Sunday, July 30, 2006

An eyesore for sure...

My roommate and I carpool most days to work. This is helpful because the quickest route takes us through a particularly sketchy part of Memphis. One morning while I was alone and waiting at a red light, a homeless woman came and stood by my window and was muttering a language I didn't understand. I like when we carpool. Strange things don't seem to happen as much.

Every day we turn from Crump onto Central Ave. At the beginning of this road on the right hand side are two high-rise apartment complexes, nothing out of the ordinary. Between them, however, is this really strange looking manor-type house.

One day, Jessie said, "What is that?" in reference to this building.
I said, "It looks like an old run down psychiatric home where they probably performed lobotomies in the 70s, like in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest." (Seriously, I said that.)

For the past week or so, we’ve been wondering what this building is. Each day we made it a point to gather new information about it: it’s name is Ashler Hall and it says Castle on the front of it, for example.

Jessie, in her peak curiosity, found the following site. Click here, please.

This person apparently reports the history of this building, which is quite interesting. Read it to know what I am talking about. At the end of this webpage, the author writes:
“I do not know the current fate of this house.”

Well, dear lover of castles, the current fate of this house can be summed up in two words: shit bag.

Seriously, it’s a disaster. I kinda feel sorry for it because it apparently has a unique history. Maybe someone will save it from its despair. Until then, it will continue to be one of a handful of eyesores we have to look at on our daily commute.

Saturday, July 29, 2006

"No soup for you!"

Apparently, it is now illegal in the city of Las Vegas to give food to the homeless in city parks. You can't hand them a sandwich. You can't hand them a piece of fruit. You can't hand them anything. It is believed to take away from the beautification of the parks and the congregation of the homeless is said to lead to crime. You can read about it here.

This makes me a little irate.

Let's see. You can't offer someone a sandwich in a park but you can take a handout advertisement from someone standing every 10 feet on the famous Las Vegas strip peddling hookers. You can legally solicit a hooker to perform whatever sexual act you wish, but you can't give someone a piece of fruit out of the goodness of your heart.

This, in my mind, is messed up. Is it just me or is there something significantly wrong here?

Thursday, July 27, 2006

No news is good news.

My roommate Jessie said, "We're watching the news until they say something positive."

Tonight's highlights:
-a man confessed to committing 48 murders over the past 30 years.
-a murderer from Indiana is believed to be living in Memphis.
-a fake cop is pulling people over and telling them that he will let them go if they pay money on the spot (this is illegal... just ask the 60 year old man on a scooter who was pulled over)
-there is a parking scam at the redbirds parking lot.

Survey says, 9 minutes!

The happy news was that part of interstate 55 has a new name to honor Martin Luther King Jr.'s wife, Corretta Scott King, to go along with the part already named for him.

Clearly, 1 out of 5 stories is positive. Wow. What is the world coming to?

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Coffeeshops, Aliens, and Susan... oh my!

My friend, Susan, a perpetual and dedicated reader of my blog, is currently finishing the writing of her master’s thesis. She has spent the last two months or so exploring many a coffee shop in the Cincinnati area in order to indulge in caffeine while working on the beast that is her thesis. Most days, Susan IMs me at work to tell me of a particularly interesting individual who just visited the coffee shop and does something peculiar, like Old Lady who was singing to everyone. Sometimes it may just be that they look peculiar, like the Elton John Look A Like or the 14-year-old Rob Thomas. Today, she was pleased to tell me the following story. I recount it here with our IM conversation, in her words and my reaction to the occurrence:

Susan: new story
Susan: these kids just walked in
Susan: like a 4 year old and 6 year old
Susan: and their mom is wandering around and they come over to me and sit on a big comfy chair
Me: nice
Susan: so the older one tells the brother that he is an alien
Susan: he knows this because the aliens went into the little one's head
Susan: and once they get in, they wrap themselves around your brain and make you an alien
Susan: FOREVER
Me: HAHAHAHA
Susan: so the little one says "get it out of my head"
Susan: so the older one starts hitting him on the head
Me: lol
Susan: and the little one thanked him
Me: can i put this on my blog
Susan: yes
Susan: that is actually how that happened
Me: Coffeeshops, Aliens, and Susan... oh my!
Susan: they are hiding behind a wall now
Susan: so i dont know what's going on
Susan: I wonder if the alien is coming out
Me: lol
Susan: the little one came back and sat down by me
Susan: i said hello
Susan: he is now playing with his sandles
Susan: making train noises. . .
Susan: he just kicked his brother
Susan: who told him the alien was trying to kill him
Susan: and hit him
Susan: mom just told them to stop
Susan: and as they walked out
Susan: the little one said "I'm telling you. I'm not an alien."
Me: lol
Me: thats priceless

Seriously, you can't make this stuff up. Children are priceless.

I wonder if this alien theory is true. I know some people who may fit the mold...

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

It's all good...

I am not a pet person. I am pretty sure it's because I didn't grow up with any pets. We never had a dog or a cat or an iguana or anything else people allow to run around their abodes. We did occassionally have some fish in a tank, but that doesn't count in my mind as a pet.

When I was a sophomore in college, my mom bought me a beta fish for my birthday. This was during the time when betas were a big deal, and they lived within bowls with pretty rocks and perhaps a plant as a roof. It may be a fact that some betas lived better than some people on this earth. They had a whole plant to themselves, what could be better than that?

Anyway, during this time, I was studying Italian. While I could read Italian well and understand the grammatical stuff, I couldn't speak it very well. I tried in class every day, but it was one of those classes where I was intimidated by the other students and didn't want to sound stupid. So I struggled in the daily lessons. I had an awesome professor, though, and he was always overly-encouraging when I was trying to speak the beautiful words. He would praise me by often saying, "Bene, bene!" or "Molto bene!" to let me know that I did a good job or made a good effort.

I told my friend in my class that my mom purchased me this beta fish, and I wasn't sure what to name it. The whole process of naming a fish seemed odd to me since this was not something I had ever done before. My friend suggested I name it something in Italian to honor the fact that I was studying the language. The best I could come up with was to name my fish, "Bene." It seemed appropriately because it was the only word I understood in any context and at any time.

My friends would often ask me, "Carol, how's your fish?" I enjoyed answering this question. Every time, I would respond, "He's good" because, in fact, he was.

How could he have been any different?

Monday, July 24, 2006

A broken heart...

Sports have a way of evoking every emotion. Moments during sporting events bring excitement, amazement, astonishment, anguish, pain, and heartache, among other things, and these experiences provide us with varying emotional feelings. In one game, you can experience a variety of emotional ups and downs - one minute, you're overcome with joy at your team's success, and the next minute, you've overwhelmed with frustration because of someone's foul-up in a clutch situation.

Since I live in the south, during baseball season, I most often only get to watch the Cardinals or the Braves, if I want to watch some hard ball. The fact of the matter is I'd rather watch the History of the Honeycomb on the Discovery Channel than watch the Cardinals or the Braves. I'm a Phillies fan, I always have been, and I probably always will be. I say probably because on an average of three times a week, I get so annoyed with the Phillies that I want to give up on them and root for another team. But that's how sports get at you - even when you want to let go, throw in the towel on supporting your team - you can't. You're so tied to the emotions of supporting them that you stand by them through the hard times, hoping that "next season will be our season." And so this is where I find myself. It's just not all that fun.

The past few days I've lucked out because the Phillies are playing the Braves, and thus, I get to watch them. On Friday, this was amazing because my favorite player, Chase Utley, increased his hitting streak to 22 games by knocking in the game winning run. Not only did I get to watch the Phillies (a rare occurrence), but I got to see them win, which is an even more rare occurrence. Anytime I can watch Chase Utley makes me happy - I can consider for one small second what it would be like to "round second base with Chase." Oh, the emotions...

Back on the subject.

Anyway, I got to watch the Phillies again last night. I watched every freakin pitch. They were something like 1 for 9 when runners were in scoring position. Clearly, this is not helpful, and I was frustrated. Then their closer, dumbass Gordon, comes in during the 9th inning and gives up a three run homer. This was the second game in a row he gave up a homer in the 9th. Way to blow the game, morons. It was at this moment that I screamed at the tv in pure frustration. My roommate can attest to the fact that I may have called the pitcher a "wench" as it seemed appropriate.

As I watched the game slip away from the Phils, I couldn't help but feel heart-broken. These millionaires break my heart when they fail to keep their shit together long enough to actually win some games more than sporadically. I mean, isn't that what they get paid to do?

And so it is again that the Phillies are on tv tonight and I have the choice to watch them. My faith in them is so weakened at present that I don't want to watch them. I don't want to watch them blow saves. I don't want to watch them lose because I don't want to be frustrated. But like any disdained lover, I'll probably watch with pure interest, and I'll set myself up to have my emotions wrecked from every angle, and my heart broken yet again by my team.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

The Office...

No, not the fantastic comedy on the television. The actuall office in which I work. Actual conversation at today's staff retreat regarding the use of a new system at work to ensure people are paid correctly for their time spent serving as easy buttons for our beloved students:

Boss (B): On the system, I am superuser.
Second in Command (SC): I am user, but also proxy so when you are away, I am superuser.
Office Coordinator (OC): I am acknowledger.
Counselor (C): Can I get power to be superuser for certain people, then you, Boss, can be proxy for that?
B: So when SC is away, she is proxy for that?
C: Yes. Then you only have to worry about full-time staff. I would deal with part-time.
OC: I just OK everything. I am acknowledger.
SC: What am I again? Proxy? When would I change?
B: OC, you need to find out if C can be superuser for part-timers and I have proxy. And then I am superuser for everything else and SC is proxy when I am away.
C: I think it's called queue.
B: I think you're right.
SC: What am I again?
OC: I am acknowldger. I click OK.
B: So we're all set? Let's see if that works.
Me: What the hell just happened?
Everyone else: Stares blankly. Some chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all.
Me: Did each of you just create these fake titles for yourselves or was that serious?
B: Oh, it's serious.
Me: Hmm. Do I need to know any of that?
B: No. Just enter your time correctly.
Me: OK. And by the way, you're all wacked.

Seriously, this was the conversation. Who comes up with this shit?

Monday, July 17, 2006

"Jesus freaks, out in the streets..."

Thank you, music master Elton John, for these most wonderful lyrics, appropriate for the topic at hand. Last year, around this time, the parental unit and I drove to the great state of Tennessee to locate and lease what would be my apartment for the year.

It was on this drive that my interest in Bible Belt related billboards and bumpter stickers was born - an interest that has since peaked to an extreme obsession with the magical wonder of professing one's faith for all to see. For the past year, I have honored the creativity of many a bumper sticker through the "Bible Belt Bumper Sticker of the Week" on my IM profile. Occassionally, I would throw in a sighting of a billboard, t-shirt, or people doing random things aimed at spreading the great word of Christ.

And so it is on this (close to a) year anniversary that I compile for all of my wonderful friends (some of whom have contributed their sightings) the list of Bible Belt Bumper Stickers (and a few other things). These are in no particular order - all are meant to enjoy as much as possible.

My boss is a Jewish carpenter.
Are you following Jesus THIS close?
got jesus?
Jesus does EVERY body good.
Jesus loves you. Everyone else thinks you’re an asshole.
Let go. Let God.
God is Pro Life.
Yes, Lord, I will ride with you.
Jesus lives in Michigan.
Jesus: Don't leave earth without Him.
Heading in the wrong direction? God suggests a U turn.
Are you lost? God allows U turns.
Who would Jesus bomb?
Jesus is my homeboy.
Don’t let my car fool you. My real treasure is in heaven.
Russia put God in the schools. America took Him out.
No peace, No Jesus? Know Peace, Know Jesus.
God loves you whether you like it or not.
Choose Life – your mother did!
Faith goes where eyes cannot see.
Jesus had a mullet.
I proudly pledge allegiance to one nation under God.
Jesus heals and restores. Pornography destroys.
God is calling. Will you answer?
While some go for gold, we go for God.
"B.I.B.L.E.: Best Instructions Before Leaving Earth"
If you’re living as if there is no God, you better be right.
Real men love Jesus.
1 cross + 3 nails = 4given
Mosh for Jesus.
Don't take your organs to heaven, heaven knows we need them here!
We need to put God back in America.
Oh, how I love Jesus.
Faith moves mountains.
Slow down, look around, and enjoy God’s beauty.
We still pray. Have faith!
Jesus died for you.
Jesus is a liberal.
Dear Lord: Forgive our sins and heal our land.
This Christian Supports Israel.
Angels are watching.
Jesus is coming like lightning – are you ready?
Body piercing saved my life.

Who’s your daddy? Reach for Him. John 14:6 (sign a man was holding while driving)

"I am hooked on Jesus" with a picture of a fisherman's hook (t shirt)
"Jesus died for Pedro" in the fashion of "Vote for Pedro" (t shirt)

Trucker shout out: My Lord, my wife, my kids, Southern Baptists. (on the side of a truck)

Ladies in Clarksville, Route 41A, holding signs “Jesus loves you”, “Go with God”, “Honk for Jesus”


All I know is… everything. – God (billboard)
10 commandments – mile 255 on Route 40 W
Jesus cares... so do the Southern Baptists. (billboard)
What you risk by viewing porn... everything. (billboard)
Remember Clarksville, Christmas is ALL about Jesus. (billboard)
GOOD minus GOD = O (billboard)
God is coming... are you ready? (billboard - included a phone number to call Jesus)
What's missing from this word: CH CH. Answer: U R. (billboard)


I hope you enjoy the compilation of Bible Belt Blessings observed from my many adventures over the past year. Perhaps you'd even like to vote on a favorite. Someday, I hope to publish a picture book of these wonderful observations of people loving the Lord. It seems like it could be a good money maker because of the sheer volume of men and women out there who love Jesus. Then again, it is morally wrong to want to make money off this? Well, perhaps, but this is America, and I can do whatever I want, so I just might. Until then, I leave you with the following lyrics of John Mellencamp, also appropriate at this time:

"Gonna let it rock. Let it roll. Let the Bible Belt come and save my soul."

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Whoooooops.

Dear Carol:

You are a dumbass. Did you really think Schnucks on Union would allow you to just waltz out of the store without paying for your groceries? Perhaps you should make sure you have your wallet next time, moron. Maybe you should spend less time in the sun. Clearly, you can't handle it.

Sincerely,Your intelligence

Saturday, July 15, 2006

My sincerest apologies...

Dear avid readers of the blog (all 12 of you):

My sincerest apologies for the recent departure of blog entries from yours truly. I was experiencing a life change. No, I'm not talking about menopause or my quarter-life crisis (though, I am certain that is just around the corner). I am talking about the recent upgrade of my personal life.

No, I don't have a boyfriend.

But I do have a roommate, for only the second time of my life.

That's right. I bucked up and decided I needed to make some improvements to my personal life. So I moved in with my work buddy. I said "Adios" to my old apartment in the wannabe-retirement community, and and said "Hola" to a new community and a new experience.

After one week, I am pleased to announce it was a solid move.

I was content where I was living, despite the lack of personal stimulation. But when the idea was made to move, I was immediately overwhelmed by my new and improved upgrades.

The short list of upgrades includes:
-instant access to Beale St via trolley versus the 30 minute car ride downtown
-kick ass roommate instead of occassional bugs
-washer and dryer instead of community laundry room
-huge closet where another person could practically live versus a smaller one
-cooking dinner for my roommate versus having to eat leftovers for a week straight
-shower stall without tile versus shower stall with tile AND slippery floor where I was pretty convinced every morning that I would slip, crack my head off the soap dish, and die a slow death, naked for days before someone found me

There are many more, but these have risen as the top notch upgrades of the recent week.

And finally, the cable and internet connections are back and life is pretty much perfect.

I am sorry to have let my readers down this past week. I promise to post more regularly, so you professional blog readers can keep on fighting the fight.

Cheers.
Carol V

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Yankee Doodle Dandy...

I love a good opportunity to witness events that you don't anticipate ever witnessing.

Last night, I celebrated the Fourth of July in pretty standard American fashion - I went to a baseball game, ate a hot dog, and watched some fireworks. The fireworks took place from center field after the game. While set up took place, about 60 people paraded to the home plate area and participated in a naturalization ceremony. These individuals represented about 25 different countries and were taking their oath to become US citizens.

This was a quite interesting event to witness, I must say. At the end, the ceremony leader asked everyone in the stands to stand up and sing "God Bless America". I looked at my friend Bridget and said, "What if you don't believe in God?"

Now I realize this is a rarity in Bible Belt Memphis, but seriously, why do we do stuff like this? Couldn't we have sung "Proud To Be An American" or "Yankee Doodle Dandy" instead? Not that I personally get offended about the G-O-D, but I am sure such a request can alienate many people who might not believe in God.

While I recognize that God is a part of the foundation of this country, believing in God or trusting in God is not a component of becoming a US citizen and living in this great country. So why did these ceremonial leaders find it appropriate to utilize this song versus another?

Rules of the road...

Dear Ignorant Memphis Driver,

Making a left turn while at a red light is not what we call "legal" in terms of driving in this fine country. Please, for the love of all things holy, do not participate in such action again as my beloved Santa Fe does not want to suffer damage due to your inability to follow simple rules of the road.

Sincerely,
An Educated Yankee Driver

Monday, July 03, 2006

K-fun, K-food, K-flood...

Well, it's officially. For the first time in my 24 years of life, I will not be partaking in any Knoebels fun this summer. This is kinda depressing.

Last week was my chance, when I was home on “vacation”. But then that bitch Mother Nature wreaked havoc on the northeast, and flooded the beloved family fun park (among other things).

And so it is that I will not get to partake in the following:
-Cesari’s pizza (we all know how much I love that sweaty pizza place)
-Apple dumpling with vanilla ice cream
-Neapolitan ice cream waffle sandwich
-Tri Taters
-Chicken fries
-Caramel apple with peanuts

And I guess a ride on the Phoenix.

Shoot. I was really looking forward to gorging myself with all of my Knoebels favorites. I guess I’ll have to wait a whole year to do so.

But maybe, just maybe, I’ll make it home for the Bloomsburg Fair this year in September. Only that experience can make up for the lack of The Grove this summer.

"These pretzels are making me thirsty..."

The Undisputed Heavy Weight Pretzel Champion of the World is the Pretzel Log.

Hands down, no contest. Go buy some. Do it. Now.

Sunday, July 02, 2006

When will it end...

I have bad luck when it comes to the guys I like. I am not saying they are not nice people, because most of the time they are, but it usually boils down to the fact that I am much more interested in them than they are in me. Feelings are usually never reciprocated. I should probably read the book “He’s just not that into you” or whatever it’s called. I know I am not the only one with this problem, and I am quite certain I am not the only one who makes this worse on herself.

You see, nine times out of ten (for the past six years or so), I have spent my precious time finding myself attracted to guys who either
a. will never be interested in me or
b. don’t even live in my vicinity.

For most of college, I was attracted to a particular individual who no longer attended Bucknell because he already graduated. Still, though, I was convinced our communication with each other was enough that, eventually, we could actually date and it might work out to what we would call a real “relationship.”
Result: not a chance in hell.

For the other part of college, I spent my time attracted to someone who wouldn’t even give me the time of day. I knew this from the very beginning, but something about him kept me wondering if maybe someday that would change and I’d have a shot.
Result: really not a chance in hell.

I had high hopes when I went to graduate school at Miami, and I actually dated someone. This is not something I actually care to recall as it could be labeled “the worst way ever to fill a void in one’s life.”
Result: refusal to even want to date so as not to do that to oneself ever again.

When I moved to Memphis, I spent a large part of the winter months interested in someone I had never met and who lived 1000 miles away. I only knew of him because of a connection to my beloved alma mater but I often hoped for a chance meeting just to see if there may be something there.
Result: I realized I am a total loser.

And here it is, months later, and I still have the same problem. Not only am I attracted to someone who will never feel the same way about me, but he doesn’t even live on the same continent.
Result: completely and utterly hopeless.

I am not usually one who wishes she has a boyfriend. Typically if you ask me, I'd respond with saying I'd settle for a good date every once in a while. Lately, though, it seems I can't help but wonder when this problem will go away. I mean, I know it’s a long shot being that I live in a city with 600,000 people (please note the sarcasm), but when is it that I might actually meet someone within a 20 mile radius of where I live that I might actually be interested in? I don’t even look that hard in the hope of the whole “it will happen when you least expect it” phenomenon might actually have a shot in hell of working out. I am not saying I want to be in a serious relationship on the way down the aisle, but I can’t help but wonder when I might just meet someone to have a good time with now and again.

Is that too much to ask?