Still in Texas, Mofo's!

Would you like to pet my adulthood?

2008-05-22T15:39:00.002-04:00

1.) Accepted a job. I start June 3rd. I will be a tax consultant (swallow that one).
2.) There is a boy in my life. He has a job, a car and a house. He has never been married, has no kids and has never been to jail. He might be smarter than me and perhaps funnier than me. I worry a bit about these things.
3.) I consistently wear make up and often don't have holes in my jeans. I even own shoes that aren't flip flops. Bras have become part of my everyday life. I have cut down to a once-a-week pigtail habit.
4.) I go running everyday instead of drinking everyday.
5.) I golf and play tennis often - these are called "life sports." They are for adults.

Who is this girl? And what has she done with my friend Abby?

Abby v. Fence, Part 2

2008-04-29T00:52:00.002-04:00

It has been almost a year since the original falling off the fence in San Diego, so in celebration, I figured I would write about a more recent battle with a fence. This is a very long, multi-faceted story, so bear with me.

Houston has the biggest rodeo in the United States (second biggest in the world) and I can only describe it as cowboy mardis gras. The opening weekend of rodeo is referred to as Cook-Off. This is where a ton of companies sponsor a ton of tents in the parking lot of Reliant Stadium and cook barbeque and serve free alcohol. You have to know people to get wrist bands to get into each party and, fortunately, my friend P worked at a company that sponsored a tent. She left the wrist bands for H, Z and I at her house as she had to get there early to do her networking. We were to meet her later.

H and I get in full on cowgirl gear (buckle and boots, oh my!) and break into a couple of Sparks while we wait for Z to get home from work. When he gets home, he changes and we hear from associates that parking and driving is a bitch, so we decide to take the train. Z drives us to our friend’s house who lives near a train stop to park the car. We park, pee in his lawn, and mosey down the road to the train stop. About a quarter mile into the walk Z tells us he needs to stop at the convenience store, which is strange since we all just peed, had cash and had cigs. H and I pester him and he is forced to admit he just farted and may have shit himself a little. Hilarity ensues, Z wipes his butt, H and I take pictures in the middle of the road. We move on.

Got on the train, tied a kid’s shoes , high-fived his brother, got off the train.

We hustled a ride from a cop from the train station to the rodeo entrance (H is a cute blond…) and then incompetently followed a map to where we were supposed to meet P. This took three times as long as it should have and, oddly enough, when I took control of the navigation, we did not end up at BWI. We found P, swilled some beers, ate some buffalo burritos (the animal, not the sauce) and went to the tent where P’s company was doing their thing. On the way (surprise surprise) we ran into an old college buddy of mine. He was there with some friends of his visiting from Atlanta and all boys present were very cute. P tried to call dibs for flirting privileges on the MIT guy (who we will call Boy 2), but I felt that I was grandfathered into that one. H picked the tall one, and P decided boys were not important that night. They partied with us a little, but Boy 2 had a reserved a table at this “hot spot” club for him and his crew. He told us to call when we left and maybe we’d meet up. They left, we went to another party tent - drank some deadly mudslides until they were closing down the event.

We made it back to the car (P was not drinking because she was working) which involved Z getting lost at the port-a-potties, spraining his ankle, falling behind and ultimately pissing off P (sidebar - P and Z are brother and sister). Somehow I acquired some beads on the way to the car, too. Z finally makes to the car; him and P fight; P kicks him out of the car; I chase him down the road and tell him to get back into the car; they scowl at each other; we drop Z off.

P, H and I decide to meet Boy 2 and crew at the bar. What makes this funny is that this establishment is the kind of place where boys have to wear black pants and girls have to dress like sluts. We decide that we need to go dressed like cowgirls. Surprisingly, they let us in and we find the boys. Dancing and drinking ensue and somehow we lose Boy 2, et al. We leave, call them (let the night-fighting begin!) and they are going to an after hours place down the road.

We go there and they are all just hanging outside, so we just hang outside. Then we saw a girl passed out on the sidewalk and her boyfriend is trying to get her into his car, so I help and consequently get covered in puke. The bouncer at the after hours bar (which we never entered, just loitered outside of) gave me a wet towel to clean up, thanked me for my help and gave me a free pass to get in. Woo eee!!

The loitering gets old so Boy 2 decides we should all go to his town home, which is a few blocks down the road. We get there and he realizes he hid his key outside his front door, which incidentally is located behind a locked wrought iron fence. An 8 foot wrought iron fence.

Obviously, I volunteer to hop the fence. With the help from one of the crew (though H though I just Supermanned over the damn thing all by myself) I scrambled up but then my damn cowboy boot got caught in the top as I was starting my decent. If these were normal shoes, I could have slid my foot out of it and been ok, but my boots go about ¾ of the way up my calf. And so there I was, dangling face down from a fence as my foot slooooowly crept out of the boot, leading to the inevitable faceplant. Hilarity ensued and Boy 2’s roommate came out and opened the fence (why he didn’t call her in the first place, saving me some skin and blood, is unclear). I was given a band aid, a beer and then I think I may have done the electric slide or something to some Latin music. The girls were successful in their night fight and I built a wall of pillows down the middle of Boy 2’s bed and went to sleep (as it turns out, I was kind of creeped out at the thought of kissing my old lab partner - sorry P!!).

The End (kind of…)

Ouchy Ouchy Ouch Ouch

2008-04-28T14:21:00.004-04:00

Sweet shit - if you ever want to be in the most pain of your life - play kickball for a few hours and then go bowling. Also, the key is to suck down a steady stream of beer while doing this to maintain dehydration and kick up the lactic acid build up a notch.

I feel bad for my co-conspirators in Super Sports Saturday...they had to go work today while I can moan and groan and cyber-complain to my hearts content.

PS -- There are rumors I might accept a job this week...

There's a $4000 fine for knowingly serving to minors in Texas...

2008-04-16T17:43:00.003-04:00

My friend Zach moonlights as a waiter in a Mexican restaurant but is very busy doing his big kid job during the day - something about financial planning. Because I have so much time on my hands during this current stint of unemployment, he asked if I would take the Serve Safe test required by the state to sell alcohol. It was online, and it didn’t seem like anything I could fuck up, so I agreed to do it. Ha ha. Let me break down the steps to the ultimate failure of this project.
1.) Before Z goes to his big kid job, he calls the TABC (Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission) to register. He gives them his social, driver’s license number, etc…and a few details from his driver’s license. Height, weight, address, eye color… I was drinking coffee as I listened and laughed when he was like, “My eye color? I don’t know. Blue? Brown? No, they are gray definitely gray.” Z took off for work, and I popped in the DVD. Actually, I tried to just take the test, but it is timed so that you “have” to watch the video. I figured, what the hell, I had nothing better to do than watch a cheaply produced DVD from 1993 about alcohol sale safety.
2.) I finish the first section as Z’s sister, P, wakes up and asks what I am doing. I was supposed to go run some errands with her that day, but told her I was dedicated to the task at hand. Plus the movie was bitchin’. She told me I was stupid and took off to take a piss test. I digress… Watching the video proved worthwhile as the first part of the test asked questions like, “What color was the customer wearing in the second segment of part one of the video?” I get all the questions right and move on to parts 2, 3, 4 of the DVD. I have now pissed away about 3 hours of my day.
3.) In the final set of questions, they ask, “What is your SSN?” As the clock on the computer started ticking down (you only had 60 seconds to answer each question), I panic, but then P finds Z’s tax return documents and I type in the number with 1 second to spare. Phew. That was close.
4.) All questions are done and I hit “Submit” and the following disclaimer pops up: “To complete certification, immediately call 1.800 blah blah blah to talk to a test administrator. This must be done immediately, or test will not be valid.” Crap. I try to contact Zach to have him call this number, but he is still in a meeting. I confer with P and decide its not a big deal if I call and use a deep voice. I’m sure they just want to give me a confirmation number or something. P has to go in the other room so we don’t laugh (my “deep voice” is ridiculous).
5.) I call the number and here is the resulting conversation:

LADY: What is your SSN?
ABBY: ###-###-####
LADY: And who is this calling?
ABBY: Zach W.
LADY: This doesn’t sound like Zach W. I spoke with him this morning when he registered and I don’t think you are him.
ABBY I don’t know what to tell you. I am definitely Zach W.
(Shit shit shit!!):
LADY: Hmmm. Okay, well then maybe you can answer a few questions for me. What is your address?
ABBY: 6... No wait…3333 Cummins, blah blah blah
LADY: Good. What is your birthday?
ABBY: Uhhh… April ninth. Nineteeen eightyyyyyy, ummm, eighty-one.
(Oops, almost fucked that one up)
LADY: Uh-huh. Okay. What is your eye color?
ABBY: Gray. Definitely gray.
(Booyah!!!!!)
LADY: And how tall are you?
ABBY: 6’1”
LADY: I’m sorry. That does not match the information you gave me earlier. I can not verify this is who you say you are.
(CRAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
ABBY (without deep voice): Ok. You busted me. I am his sister (more lies!!!). What do we do now?
LADY: Z will have to retake the test himself. Have a nice day.

The best part is that when Zach retook the test a couple of days later, I was hanging at his apartment and decided to again watch the DVD with him.

Welcome Back, Kotter!

2008-04-16T17:28:00.004-04:00

Once again, I am going through a major life change. I have been unemployed (in Houston) for about 8 weeks now and a lot of shenanigans have happened during this time. I really need to be sharing these shenanigans (one more time to bring on the pistol whip) with the public. I am going to try and start remembering some stories to post as I keep a current events log as well. Be prepared to laugh...cry...it should be better than Cats.

I had a "story" occur to me today that inspired this reactivation of the blog. As I said, I have been unemployed for about two months, so it is really time to start looking for a job again. In the interest of laziness, I posted my resume on monster.com and have just allowed recruiters and such to call me. One of which is a recruiter from New Jersey who is trying to get me to take some contract work in Dallas. I need to make an aside, and say that I have been having fun with the recruiters (because they really are glorified telemarketers) and have been a bit mouthy and sarcastic - you know, standard Abby behavior. This either ticks them off, or enamors them to me. So, NJ recruiter found this charming and funny, so anytime we talked about interviews and what not concerning the Dallas job we would chit chat a bit. Basic stuff: weather, plans for the weekend, baseball (he's a Yankee fan - blech). I started to get the impression he was flirting with me over the phone...

So, today I had the phone interview with the company in Dallas (Painful. Why are engineers so hard to talk to?) and I get an email from him afterwards:

"congrats on your interview! i'm sure you'll get the job. whether you take it or not is the real queation! i didn't want to be the inappropriate one, but now that im emailing you outside of work, i guess i can be honest. i think you're a total cutie. i am quite direct, i know. just thought i'd tell ya. talk to ya soon :)"

My buddy suggested I sue him for sexual harassment so I can put off working a couple more months. Hee hee!!!

Would you like fries with your McShizzel?

2007-10-15T15:19:00.000-04:00

I recieved an email from a customer (one of the NPS guys from the casino trip) on Saturday night about work stuff. The resulting dialogue was pretty funny (names have been omitted to protect the innocent):

XXXXX wrote:
Right on! Whazzup with the Saturday night email...aren't you watching the Rock of Love reunion? Let me explore the bad juju with the bean weenies here...

(bad juju and bean weanies are referring to the work stuff)

Abby wrote:
Sox/Indians game
Is there really a Rock of Love reunion on? I'll have to catch that on reruns!!

XXXXX wrote:
C'mon girl, you are killing me...baseball is like weak sauce!!! Rock of Love reunion is the McShizzel...damn Jes Rickleff let my boy Brett Michaels down...what a scam! He should have picked Heather... I knew Jes was not down for him on the show. Thank goodness for I Love New York 2.

Abby wrote:
Did you just spoil it for me?
Obviously, Heather was pure 80's rock skank material, but Jes was hot and if you were a 40 year old burnout with a mysterious hairline, wouldn't you pick the 23 year old chicky?
Don't get me wrong, I love Bret Michaels. Maybe I'll try out for Season 2.
I am sure heather (or crazy Lacey) will get their own show a la New York.

As far as McShizzel's go, its the playoffs, Red Sox are going into extra innings. That's good stuff. Surprisingly, my auto-spell doesn't recognize McShizzel.

XXXXX wrote:
Hell no! Heather was fat...and Jes is a freaking ice cube...what we call a Starfish...easy on the 40 yo burnout...you are describing me to a tee! My hairline is not suspect though. Totally solid!

On another note, I met Tracy McGrady on Sunday while I was at the bar watching the Pats game. Whoop dee do.

It's Hammertime!

2007-10-11T15:42:00.000-04:00

I am taking a quick time out from a three day CAD marathon. Today's annoyance: last night my computer ran automatic updates for Windows and itunes. Now, itunes doesn't work. It thinks it's playing a song, but it's not. I tried all iterations of install/uninstall and it still won't work. Couldn't find any threads on the web that helped. So not cool, because I had a taste for some Jon Secada. And I'm not making that up, either.

I suppose I should debrief on the dry casino adventure. The people there were all really cool and someone snuck some beer into the hotel. Twenty of us packed into a hotel room swilling Budweiser in a can, keeping our voices down when we heard a noise. It felt like sophomore year in high school all over again.

Night two, we ventured off to a dive bar. Kind of like Roadhouse, but on an Indian reservation. The Laguna Indians are awesome as they welcomed us with open arms into their establishment. The night got crazy and words can hardly describe the fun I had. One shining moment from the evening can kind of sum it up: I sang a karaoke duet with a 22 year old Navy ensign to...2 Legit 2 Quit by MC Hammer. Yes, I did the typewriter.

Do do do do...Do do do do (Theme to The Twilight Zone)

2007-10-03T18:10:00.000-04:00

I am stuck in the desert with...hold your breath...no alcohol. This casino/hotel is in an alcohol-free zone. And from some internet research would indicate its an alcohol free zone in all directions for 20+ miles. What self-respecting sailor would have a conference where there is no booze? I was planning on nursing a hangover all day tomorrow until the meetings started up again in the evening. Now, I am not sure what to do... Oh yeah, there is no golf course, either. I take that back, there is a mini-golf course. Someone shoot me in the eye.

Field Trip!!

2007-10-03T17:59:00.001-04:00

Writing to ya'll (yee haw) from the Houston Airport (Hobby, if you're curious). Miraculously I haven't fallen, cut myself or done anything majorly stupid since last we chatted (or I chatted, and you read). However, I am, once again, having car troubles. While I love that Volvo when she's running, she seems to give me quite the headache sometimes. I guess I just need to budget at least $1000 a year in repairs. For those of you who have driven in Houston, you know that the roads need some new pavement...stat. I took a pothole like a whore in church (probably not the appropriate simile) this week and now my car makes the most awful noise when it hits any sort of bump. You know when a 90 year old lady who's hooked up to an oxygen tank starts hacking up a lung and it just makes everyone uncomfortable - yeah, that's the noise my car is making. So I took it to a shop (oh, PJ's, how I miss you) and waited 4 hours (4 HOURS!!!!) for them to diagnose the problem - new struts. Fine, but 4 hours?!? I could have rebuilt the car from scratch in that time. After reading the last 4 years of back issues of Esquire magazine (if it took any longer, I was about to delve into the Transmissions Monthly stash), I set up an appointment to have the struts replaced on Friday. Now, as I was driving back to work (have I mentioned - 4 hours later?) my gas light came on. When I was driving to the garage I had noticed my dash telling me I have 80 miles to go until empty. My gas light comes on at 25 miles to go. That's a lot of miles gone...makes me think of Ferris Buellar's Day Off. But why would you want to joyride in a 2001 Volvo S40 that goes ker-chunk every two seconds? Beats me.

Now, you may ask, what are you doing at the airport? Well, duh, I am writing a blog. No, I am headed to some Indian Reservation/Casino outside of Albuquerque (damn that word!) for a "think session" with some Navy Postgrad School teachers, students and other industry liaisons (I would be considered an industry liaison) (The word "liaison" has a lot of vowels). Woo eee. Now, I figure: me, a bunch of Naval officers - in the middle of the desert. I smell some Tailhook. I can only hope and pray!! The meeting take place from 6pm-10 pm on Wednesday and Thursday night. Sounds like a boondoggle golf trip to me!! This sucks, though, because the MLB playoffs are starting tonight. Due to time zones, I will be able to watch the first half of the Sox/Angels game, but will miss the ending. Members of the New England Refugees of Houston will be texting me. Hopefully Mr. PowerPoint-Presenter-That-Is-Sure-To-Be-There won't mind my half-assed attention.

Oh! Another entry in the "small world" category. A guy I dated in college (once again, not the freak) (in fact, he's the friend of the guy who dated the girl who's uncle I watched the Pats game with...follow?) sent out a mass email that he's engaged. This being something of a small miracle for this guy (get out your winter coats, boys and girls, hell might freeze over!) I felt the need to send a harassing email back. I hadn't spoken with him in about 3 years and he wrote back asking if I was still in Maryland. I gave the brief saga of my life (two sentences, I swear: "Nope. Was in Cali, now in Houston.") and it turns out, he lives in Houston. Well, part time. He works in Houston M-Th and spends the weekends in Michigan with the girl. But, that's good enough for me to sing, "One of my exes sometimes lives in Texas..." (For those who didn't get my joke, that was a take on the song, "All my exes live in Texas. That's why I hang my hat in Tennessee...") O'Doyle rules.

Laid Back, With My Mind on My Money...

2007-09-27T19:46:00.001-04:00

Because my life is kind of dull these days, and the sweaty/fence story made you all so happy, I was thinking about reliving some of my favorite other stories. As I started to write about the infamous Delaware story (some of you have heard this) it occured to me that I haven't been fully honest with the Maryland folks. I had a similar blog that I was keeping for my non-Maryland friends before the move (I only write for this one now, however). It starts off slow, honestly, I would only read from June on (plus, prior to that I take a few harmless digs at work and st. mary's), but it goes through the great Volvo/mouse/truck story and others. It should keep you occupied (and yes, I am talking directly to you, Mandy) for a bit.

http://needalifecoach.blogspot.com

Keep in mind, there is some artistic embellishment (as always) to make me look better (or worse, depending) in the reader's eyes. Don't call me out. It wouldn't be cool! Hee hee!

It's A Small World After All...

2007-09-26T19:01:00.000-04:00

After a number of coincidences (or perhaps not) I have decided that I am, in fact, the center of the universe. Two weeks ago (Sunday, 16SEP) I went to a local sports bar to watch the Pats and Sox play. It was a total sensory overload at first, taking in baseball to the left of me, football to the right (stuck in the middle with you...) but once the Pats had everything under control, I was able to focus on the Sox/Yankees heartbreak...but I digress. Being in Houston, I was excited to see a couple wearing a Nixon jersey (outdated) and a Bruschi jersey, and I introduced myself. They turned out to be a brother/sister combo from Rhode Island who were members of a New England Refugees of Houston group (I made that name up) who frequented this bar to watch games. The following week, I returned to watch the Pats game.

****Quick aside. The company I work for is made up of Canadians, Chinese, French and Germans. It is strange that no time is spent on Mondays discussing the NFL. High productivity, but the poor American girl misses her chit chat.*******

At this gathering, there were 20+ New Englanders. It was great! People were coming and going out of the group and a newcomer was introducing himself and low and behold he was from Derry, NH!! Quite a few years older than me, but we talked about the town and teachers from the high school we had in common. Moments later a guy joined the table I was at. He was from the Armed Forces All Star softball team (River Dawgs ain’t crap, huh?) and was in town for a tournament or something. He is stationed at Norfolk, but was going to Pax River (tad) after the softball thing was over. Then…an old dude came over and introduced himself and the previously mentioned sister tells him I went to Bunker Hill CC and he says he has a niece who went there. Turned out she lived on my floor my freshman year and we dated a pair of best friends at the same time, so I knew her kind of well.
This, on top of the fact that there was a quote on my Starbucks cup from a chick I went to school with only proves that I am, in fact, the center of the universe.

****Another aside. When I was leaving the bar after the game I totally wiped out. Keys, cell phone went flying. I went head first into a chair. If only I were drunk so I didn't look like such a tool. Even in Texas, I am a clutz.*****

Also, I find it interesting that a washer can be called a washing machine but a dryer is not called a drying machine. I did battle with my drying machine this weekend. Minus almost getting stuck behind it, I kicked its ass. Boo ya.

Cooler than a Commodore 64

2007-09-18T08:20:00.000-04:00

Stupidest thing heard on the elevator at work: "Man, this elevator's so slow, it must be running Windows 1.0"
Do I even need to mention that the guy was wearing wing tips and a Hawaiian shirt?

Bras, poop and zits, oh my!!

2007-09-15T14:38:00.000-04:00

So, I am back to my old ways – working all day, all night and yes, I am in the office on a Saturday. You may ask, why are you getting your blog on when you could be working so you can go home and I say to you: my other computer is saving a big file right now and it is slow as shit, so I am keeping myself busy instead of staring at the hour glass thingy. Hah!
As a result of the workaholism, my antics have been scant. But here are a few updates:

1.) I am sleeping on a bed as of Thursday instead of an air mattress. Yay!!

2.) I have a zit in the dead center between my lip and nose (where a mustache would grow if I were a hairy beast), which I have shown great restraint and not touched because having a big open sore near your mouth is never a good idea. I have, however, annihilated one on my forehead. Gotta pick at something, right? I miss the days of the belly button tumor…

3.) I have pooped at work. That’s a big deal.

4.) Boy is more neurotic than me, which makes me feel better about myself. I am rethinking my goal of making him love me…

5.) For those of you keeping track of the “how many days will Abby last wearing big kid shoes to work tally…” the answer is: Crocs on Thursday, Birks on Friday. I am so weak. Big sis – I let you down, I know. But I have worn a bra (a big kid bra) everyday. I am even wearing one now!! Big sis – Holla!

6.) Seriously, the file is still saving. My instinct is to shut down that computer, but then the work is lost and…wait…I’m back. It finished up saving as I was typing about it finishing up saving. I want a pony. I want a pony. I want a pony. Damn, that didn’t work.

The stars at night, are big and bright, (clap, clap, clap, clap)

2007-09-10T16:51:00.000-04:00

Quick debrief: I moved to San Diego. I quit my job after two weeks. I hung out on the beach for a month. I found a new job. I moved to Houston.

Must Reads: I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell by Tucker Max, The Game by Neil Strauss

Now that I have re-entered the real world, hilarity is once again ensuing. Let me tell my latest story…

10 years ago, in a land far away called MIT, I met a boy we shall call Boy (anonymity will no doubt be lost based upon the story, however, for liability’s sake, I can pretend – and no, this isn’t about that freak I used to roll with). I had a crush, then uncrushed (enter freak) then a year after graduation (this is still in contention, I think it was the summer of ’01, Boy thinks it was summer ’02) Boy and I had a conversation of mutual re-crushes. And then he moved to Houston to play big kid and work. I moved to New Hampshire to play dirt bag and bartend.

When I got the new gig in Houston, I called Boy out of the blue to ask for apartment advice. It was my understanding that he had relocated to Ohio, but as it turns out he is back in Houston. He was helpful in my home-hunting and agreed to meet for drinks once I arrived. Of course, all crushy feelings returned as I drove from San Dog to Texas and so last Friday evening before we were set go out (with his friends, this was not a “date”) I got all wiggy trying to figure out what to wear, what to say, whether he was fat, whether he was married, had I put on enough deodorant (Maryland folks know I have a sweating problem - speaking of, I need to acquire an emergency pit stick for work now that I have no Mandy). Needless to say, I had worked my way into a neurotic-first-appearance-totally-unnecessary frenzy.

Well, I looked fine, smelled fine, etc… but then my retard syndrome took effect. (First, let me give a little background on my new digs. I live on the top floor of a mid-rise, which has a parking garage for each floor, so every time I went to my place I drove via the spiral of the garage. I did not know how to go straight down via my feet.) Boy called (he was picking me up) from in front of the building. I found a stairwell close to my door and went down. This was a bad idea. After walking down 5 stories in Houston’s 90 degree/100% humidity I was a bit soggy. First impression quality has now been reduced in half. Ah, but it gets better. The door I exited closed behind me as I realized I exited to the rear of the building, which is fenced in, on all sides, and the door behind me locked, and my key didn’t work. Oh damn. I call Boy and tell him I may be a few minutes as I explained my situation. I don’t think he understood as he offered to drive around and pick me up. I explained that that wasn’t an option and told him to back up 300 yards and look to his right. First impression: sweaty and stuck behind a fence. That was actually what I was going for all along. It gets better. With no other solution then to hop the fence, I throw my shoes (pretty ones, too) and purse (also pretty) over the fence, climb onto an air conditioning vent (or something like that) and attempt to jump the fence. Boy is now on the other side and I fall onto him with all my massive sweaty glory. Second impression: sweaty, barefoot and careening into me. Awesome.

Boy was very nice about the whole ordeal (to which I thanked him by commenting on his graying hair; I am not known for my tact) and we went on to meet his friends for sushi and the three accompanying martinis: one for me, one for the sweat and one for the fence. And you people wonder why I can’t keep a boyfriend…

New Address

2007-07-20T14:02:00.001-04:00

*******updated to the correct addy********

My new address is:
5038.5 Muir Ave
San Diego, CA 92107

Day 6

2007-07-18T00:51:00.000-04:00

I am verrry tired. Today, I drove 400+ miles and also played tourist. Because I don’t feel like thinking and I have to be quick because I am doing laundry (in a hotel…sweet) and want to get this done before the washer is done. By the way, it is night and Phoenix is still 105 deg. It feels like a hairdryer.

The drive:
1.) I had a lead pipe fall of an 18-wheeler and come straight for my windshield. I was able to dodge it but the image of it keeps replaying in my head. Very scary.
2.) I saw a bird fly into the car that was driving ahead of me on the highway. The bird exploded like a water balloon. It made me laugh, but I bet the driver wasn’t too thrilled – it’s gonna be a bitch getting the blood off a white car!

The tourism:
1.) I had to stop at an Indian trading post. I got some earrings. In return, I gave them back New York.
2.) The Painted Desert. Holy crap, everyone: you must go. It is the most amazing thing I have ever seen. I took a ton of pictures, but they do not compare to the experience. It is breathtaking – like watching a live-action IMAX theater.
3.) Petrified Forest. Not as “wow” as I thought it would be. Just a bunch of stumps that upon close inspection, are made of quartz. Cool, but followed the Painted Desert, so it was bound to disappoint.
4.) Meteor Crater. Lame. Had to pay $15 to look from a not so aerial view inside the museum/tour guide talks too much place. Couldn’t go play around in the crater or look in it from outside. I did research before I paid the $15 (i.e. – asked someone leaving: He said it was like a 4th grade field trip), so did not enter the museum. Got a crappy picture from outside the crater, though.

Get this: When I was in the Painted Desert, I saw a car with NH license plates. I located the couple and it turns out they are from Londonderry, which is next town over from where I grew up: Derry. The lady works about 500 yds from my parents’ house. Small world, eh?

Check out the pictures: they are cool.

Day 5

2007-07-16T19:38:00.001-04:00

I was able to make it to Amarillo by morning (11:00 am to be exact) despite pretty bad rainstorms at the end of Oklahoma. Texas went by quickly, though I was able to see some buffalo roaming…oh, give me a home.

I crossed the Mountain Time line into New Mexico and got to see a landscape I had never seen before: mesas!! It was pretty cool and made the drive easier. I was making really good time (and had left early this morning…blah blah blah…Amarillo…) so I was going to land in Albuquerque way before my friend was ready for me. Oh yeah, I am staying with Misty (“shiny t’s” for you Maryland folks) tonight in Albuquerque (okay, I am sick of typing that, from this point forward, I will refer to the city in which I am currently sitting as “Que”). She has an MBA meeting (yup, another one of my friends who wants to be “the Man”) at 5:30 and I was set to land at about 3:30, so I had some time to kill.

Along my drive I saw a sign for Santa Rosa Lake State Park. I figured I could get some more cool pictures of the landscape, so I got off the exit. I did get cool pictures and I decided to go swimming, too. There wasn’t a sign that said I couldn’t and I was hot and had time to kill… Now, let’s just hope its not like St. Mary’s water and I get some sort of itchy rash.

Anyway, I still made it to Que an hour early, so I am sitting a coffee shop where Misty wanted to go to dinner having a coffee and typing. I could start rambling on and on just to keep myself occupied and to drive you all crazy, but instead I will start on my gas price map. It is getting expensive!!!

Day 4

2007-07-15T22:56:00.000-04:00

(Day 3 addendum: I stayed in hotel room #314 in Little Rock. You should all know why that makes me so happy!!)

I am currently sitting in a hotel room in Elk City, Oklahoma. Elk City, OK is interesting because it is the last city before Amarillo (after Oklahoma City) that has hotels. Might I mention that Amarillo, TX is 200 miles away? It is obvious that Elk City is a happenin’ place in that my hotel has a mini-golf course in the lobby and people are playing who aren’t staying at the hotel.

You may ask, “Why didn’t you just go to Amarillo?” Well, duh; you can’t get to Amarillo by evening; only Amarillo by morning. And that, I kid you not, is why I am in Elk City.

Today I got out of Arkansas and almost all the way through Oklahoma. A couple of things I saw on the way:

1.) Alma, Arkansas: The Spinach Capital of the World (http://www.roadsideamerica.com/tnews/NewsItemDisplay.php?Tip_AttrId==15403 )

2.) Checota, Oklahoma: The hometown of Carrie Underwood, 2005 American Idol Winner. (There was a big sign on the side of the highway; not a billboard, but a green highway sign.)

3.) X-Mart, “The Wal-Mart of Adult Stores” (what is with these people?)

I hit Oklahoma City in the early afternoon and tooled around a bit to stretch my legs. Pretty typical city – good cross section of America. Nothing interesting to report and no one weird enough to make fun of. Bummer.

About 75 miles west of Oklahoma City, I found a pretty cool thing in the farmlands. Windmills. Hundreds of windmills. I had to stop and take photos (the rest are on my photo page). I think the interns can take the photos and scale them and get to work on the Tomasic Power Plant of Southern Maryland.

Well that’s about it. There was a lot of driving today and I am tired. I have to get up early, too so I can make Amarillo by morning (yes, I know, I am beating this joke to death…) and Albuquerque by evening.

Day 3

2007-07-14T23:59:00.001-04:00

Today I crossed the Mississippi River and met Arkansas.

Let me tell you a thing or two about Arkansas: there is nothing as far as the eye can see. I am not sure why anyone would live here unless they worked for Maybelline (headquartered here), was a tractor-trailer repairman or farmed. But I didn’t even see too many farms. It is funny, however, that the American culture has still reached the area. I will get to that in a minute. First of all, on the highway there are billboards with Commandments on them. I could understand if in fine print it said “sponsored by Southern Arkansas Baptist Church” or something, but I saw one that just said, “Thou shalt not commit adultery.” That was it. Perhaps the folks driving down 40W to see their lover have thought twice. The creepiest one said, “If you got in a car accident and died right now, where would you spend eternity?” That’s a bit morbid, I think.

I got to Arkansas and the hotel Tom-Tom picked for me didn’t have an eating establishment within walking distance (I don’t count a Waffle House as dinner-type food – maybe drunken-stupor type food, but definitely not driving-all-day-need-a-steak type food), but fortunately the hotel had a sign in the lobby that said, “Hotel van comes at 6:00 and 7:30 and goes to TGI Friday’s and/or Olive Garden.” While neither of these options was going to give me the local flavor I desired, I certainly wasn’t going to drive anywhere and apparently a cab was a difficult option according to the “concierge.” I had arrived in Little Rock just past six, so I had to wait until 7:30, which turned out to be 8:15. While I waited in the lobby for 45 minutes, I read the local “Little Rock Today” rag. It happened to be the “best of…” issue. I was amazed that there was a Best Porn Shop, Best Adult Toy Store, Best Lingerie Store…to name a few. This is Bible Belt territory after all (However, I did fail to mention, a few miles after the “If you died now…” billboard, there was a billboard for “Arkansas largest adult film, toy, apparel outlet…”). There also appeared to be a strong gay community in Little Rock. I did not expect any of this. But even more surprising was the amount of gang violence. What do they get mad about? My harvest is bigger than your harvest? I have an 18-wheeler and yours is just 16 wheels? Also, you can buy a 4 br, 3.5 ba house on 2 acres of land for under $300K. Wow.

Anyways, I made it to TGI Friday’s, had a steak and a beer and am back at the hotel having had a truly genuine Little Rock experience. I wish I were at the Candlebox concert with Steve (which I had tickets for and then decided to move across the country). I, however, do not wish I had gone to the lawn mower races with Chuck in SoMD.

Tomorrow, I meet Oklahoma.

Day 2

2007-07-14T19:16:00.000-04:00

Part I
Well, I wanted to get to Memphis, but instead I am in Nashville. Today I hit some snags, which is why I gave myself 8 days to do this trip!!
The weather was crap for the first part of the trip. And, how is this for irony: I had the heat on in my car! I was making good time and got to Asheville, NC where I got my oil changed and grabbed a sandwich. I tried to check out the Biltmore Estates, the countries largest private estate (whoop-dee-doo) but they were charging money for that, so I moved on. This is where it gets ugly…

Apparently, right over the Tennessee border (6 miles in) a tractor trailer got into an accident involving sheet rock ( http://www.knoxnews.com/news/2007/jul/13/tractor-trailer-crash-near-nc-border-shuts-i-40-we/ ) which had traffic at a standstill about 7 miles into North Carolina.
It took me two and half hours to get to an exit so that I could take back roads past the accident. When I did get to the exit, I fell into a little God-fearing river town where I really wanted a coffee but had to settle for a Cherry Coke. The economy of this town (whose name I don’t know) is river rafting and kayaking. This caught my interest and for a quick second thought about unpacking the ‘yak off my roof – Ha ha! Just kidding! Actually, I thought about renting a kayak and giving up on driving for the day. I knew I wasn’t going to make it to Memphis and the caffeine from the Cherry Coke hadn’t hit me yet. But…all the rental/guide places were closed. I went down to the river and saw why…water was too low. I guess they need some rain around here.

I found a little country road that took me 4 exits past the accident (Yay for Tom-Tom!!). The sun was now shining, I was feeling good, everyone on the highway was keeping a great pace (we were all behind from the stupid border nonsense). I crossed the time zone line and then…old ding-a-ling here forgot to pay attention to her gas gauge. Don’t worry, mom, I noticed the light on while I still had 15 miles before I ran out. I was cutting it close, but I made it.

Now, I am in downtown Nashville for the night. Might try to get into a little Dixieland delight or something. Yee haw!

Part II
Went and played in Nashville tonight. (Let me start by saying that Part I was written when I first arrived. My hotel room does not have wireless and the high-speed is all jacked up. Therefore, these will be posted ex post facto.) I wanted to go to one of those songwriter’s nights like in Coyote Ugly (the movie) that Nashville is famous for. I found one, listened to the music, ate some grub (fried pickles, yum!) and will now comment on this experience:

First of all, people come out who are singers and/or songwriters. I would like to believe I could tell the difference based upon talent level or the quality of the song, but honestly, not so sure. It was definitely BYOG (bring your own guitar) night at Commodores (the pub I was at). Perhaps it was my apparel (sweats and tank top), my accent (or lack there of) that made me stick out like a sore thumb, but I am sure the fact that I had a purse (I mean utilitarian satchel) instead of a guitar case that indicated that I am not from around here. I have never claimed to not be judgmental so why start now: the girls who performed were all about 20 years old, wore dresses and cowboy boots and hiked up their boobies as best they could – all trying to be the next Carrie Underwood. Which brings up the interesting point – they all kind of sound the same (the singers, not the songwriters) and they all kind of sound like Carrie Underwood, ergo they are really just selling their appearances. Not so for the boys. Any guy under the age of thirty looked like a Bad News Bear (the originals, not the new stuff); anyone 30+ looked like an extra from the movie From Dusk ‘Til Dawn. No cowboys, just freaks.

The singing wasn’t too bad; but the song writing… First of all, the lack of creativity in the music part of the songs: I heard the music to …I wish I had a pencil thin mustache…, Hit the Road, Jack, and This little light of mine… (a Kingston Trio song, for those who don’t know). The only lyrics that were memorable came from a song whose verses were anti-internet/technology and whose chorus was “JC rocks. JC rocks. JC is a rock.” The large cross around the dude’s neck makes me believe he wasn’t talking about the former member of ‘N sync. Perhaps we should add a commandment: Thou shalt not email.

After the performances, I was curious about how the whole gig worked so I forced myself into a conversation with two of the performers. While it appeared the audience was made up of family members and other artists (and one random girl from New Hampshire via Maryland), they assured me that there were many talent scouts there. Some chickie piped up that Trisha Yearwood’s latest song came from a Songwriters night at this establishment. I would consider taking that seriously except that one of the dudes I was talking to told me he wrote and produced an Elton John song. Sure thing, buddy, you don’t look at day over 25 (bad news bear looking dude, by the way) and EJ hasn’t done much new since the Princess Di redo of Candle in the Wind, which I am sure you didn’t write. Drrrr… (But he did have a Martin guitar, so you never know…).

Anyway, I don’t think anyone I saw is going to make it big, but it was a good experience. I don’t think you can see something like that anywhere else.

P.S. If you hadn’t noticed, the sidebar has a link to all pictures.

Day 1

2007-07-12T21:36:00.000-04:00

Well, the final packing and cleaning of the attic took longer than expected (I feel that it probably was not my responsibility to scrub the carpet from the mess that the hole-in-the-ceiling-fixer-guy left, but whatev) and I did not hit the road until about 2:00 pm today (Thursday, July 12th). I had to take the requisite dorky picture for the mom:

That car is jam packed with stuff. Big shout-out to Jeff for the idea of using the kayak as storage - you aren't as dumb as you look!! Hah! Also, big shout-out to the boys at PJ's Auto Body for hooking me up with some A/C!! (Moreso, big shout-out to Mandy for cracking the whip!) And, big shout-out to Steve and Chuck, who I know will get jealous of the other people's shout-outs and for making sure I didn't throw out the back or spaz.

I drove about 6 hours today and have arrived at a Holiday Inn-Express (got to get smarter for this new job, afterall!) in Winston-Salem, NC. Pretty uneventful ride, though my voice is a little horse because I sang non-stop for these six hours. I need to reformat my hard drive (and by hard drive I mean brain) because too much memory is wasted by song lyrics, even if I am making half of them up.

Thoughts on my drive thus far:
1.) In Virginia, there is the Powhite Expressway. I feel bad for the dudes who have to do community service (not "national honor society community service", but "I committed a crime community service) because they spend all day picking up Powhite trash and then go to the bars at night and continue to pick up Po' White Trash. Ba dum ching!

2.) In North Carolina there is a Tar River, which I am sure has to do with why the Tar Heels are called the Tar Heels (UNC reference, for you non-sports-liking people) but I prefer to think of it as the world's biggest spit cup for tobacco chewers. Gross.

I am sure the above is not as funny as I think it is, but it's okay because I am tired and my belly is full of good quality North Carolina Mexican food (tried to find some bbq, but...) which I ate about an hour ago and still haven't had a BM, so they obviously use different ingredients than Monterey's.
"Thanks for sharing, Abs."
"Hey, no problem!"

Tomorrow the goal is Memphis. Also, more pictures.