Monday, June 27, 2005

Dribble

I'm so good at making first impressions.

This weekend, I was back in Columbus for work and Gus and Val were kind enough to not only house me for the weekend, but provide me with entertainment as well. On Friday, Gus and his friends took me to a rock show--and ended up putting on quite a show of their own. Then on Saturday, we went over to a small birthday party for another of their friends.

I was feeling sassy, so I brought out the new skirt I had bought the weekend before. I had fallen madly in love with it at TJ Max--knee length, white linen with a faux "fold-over" panel hemmed with big, round silver sequins. It sounds hideous, but it's actually quite adorable. I busted it out. I fussed for 10 minutes over what to wear with it. When I came down the stairs, ready to go out, Val complimented the skirt and I almost--almost--made a joke that wearing white is a dangerous game for me.

Ah, the irony.

Over at Bart and Hope's gorgeous house, I introduced myself, chatted a bit about DC, munched carefully on tortilla chips and seven layer dip. I sipped slowly at my red wine, being mindful not to dribble down my shirt.

Then I saw one of their three dogs padding happily around the kitchen. She was so adorable, and I am such a sucker for dogs, that I couldn't help myself. As gracefully as I could, I squatted down to scratch her ears and pat her head.

As I rose back up to join the conversation, still looking down at the dog, I suddenly noticed a rush of red coming down my left shoulder and onto--yes--my brand new, first-time-out-of-the-closet skirt. And since it was red, I was immediately sure I was bleeding. Badly.

I couldn't speak. I think a muffled kind of "ah! ah!" sound came out of my mouth, but I couldn't react to what I was seeing. I was frozen with shock. By the time I realized what had actually happened--that my long curls had settled into my wine glass when I knelt down, sopping up a good deal of liquid before dribbling it down my breast and onto my skirt--the others in the room saw the disaster and rushed to my aid.

But it was too late: Angry red lines streaked down the fabric of the skirt.

We stopped what was left of the hair hemorrhage, but the damage was done. Hope graciously gave me a bleach stick in hopes of combatting the stain, and the stains seemed to fade after initial application. Of course, we won't know until the dry cleaner has his say.

You can't take me anywhere.

Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Two minutes ago...

This conversation happened between a female co-worker and me.

FCW: This may be a stupid question...

YT: Ok....

FCW: What's the name of that round building with the point on top?....

YT: [silence]

FCW: Is it the state capital?

YT: [grimacing] You mean the nation's Capitol Building?

FCW: Oh, yes, don't laugh at me.

YT: [still grimacing]

Friday, June 17, 2005

No fun

Thats a horrible movie experience, Sarah. I'm a movie snob, I HATE when something is off in the theater (people talking, not enough room, not loud/quiet enough, too many lights...)

To make the Star Wars experience a little less uncomfortable, check out this, its a great 5 minutes of fun.

Thursday, June 16, 2005

Muted

I finally got my ass in gear and went to see the new Star Wars movie last night. Though I haven't been a huge fan of the new trilogy series, it wasn't bad--the story felt a little stilted and some of the acting was still not so great, but that's not so different from the original movies, right?

Anyway, I was enjoying it well enough, and we were progressing rapidly to the climax of the movie, where Padme confronts Anakin about what's happening and then Obi Wan and Anakin start fighting. And just as Obi Wan appears... silence. The sound cut completely out.

There were only a handful of us in the theater, and several people yelled to the nonexistant person in the booth. Finally, after a painful attempt at lip-reading, a few angry patrons charged to the aisles to get someone to fix the problem. The sound came back on after about five minutes, only to keep blanking out at the most important dialogue moments, almost like someone was gleefully hitting the mute button on the remote.

So now I'm stuck. I didn't like the movie enough to go see it again (even though the theater gave us free passes), but I feel really cheated that I don't know what Obi Wan said to Anakin, or what Anakin said when he burst into flames, or what Padme's last words were. I guess I'm going to have to rent the damn DVD when it comes out next year... Sigh.

Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Ant Update: Victory At Hand

So since YouTwo asked me at dinner last night how the ants were, I thought I should provide an update to all.

In short: they are gone.

Shortly after writing the original ant post, I went on a trip up to Wisconsin. YouTwo was kind enough to help out with Casey. On my return, he informed me that he had killed several ants on her bowl and a few more on the counter. And they were still hanging out, so I could see my problem was not yet over.

Then they just vanished.

I'm not sure if it was the hot weather, or the exceptionally high air conditioning in the house, or if they just conceded defeat. But they're gone. I'm hoping they aren't just on vacation, throwing back mai tais and eating kabobs on the beach, waiting to catch the next train back up the coast and get back to work, but it definitely has been a loooong vacation if that's the case.

Friday, June 10, 2005

The meaning of Six

On the way home from a softball game last night, I took the train back to Virginia with a new teammate I'd never really chatted with before. We made small talk about our jobs, our neighborhoods, the quirky city that is DC.

"How long have you been here?" he asked.

"Oh, about six years," I said.

"Wow," was his response. Wow indeed. I tell people all the time when they ask how long I've been here, but never before did it make me feel so... rooted.

Six years. It's longer than I spent in Athens, back during my college days. It's longer than I spent in the town where I was born, and even the town after that. In fact, the only place I've been longer than six years is my hometown, Mansfield. It felt weird.

It's felt equally awkward filling out all my information as I start submitting paperwork for school. The "hometown" and "permanent address" questions always give me pause. Yes, I grew up in Ohio; yes, my parents and most of my family still live there; but is it my hometown? Can I justifiably write my childhood address, knowing full well that it will never again be a place I call home?

I guess in these six long years, something strange has happened: DC has become my home. As much as this town frustrates me with its traffic, its snarky commuters and bitter citizens, its narcissistic self-importance--it's also been the place where I've met friends who have become my family, had my heart broken and mended again several times over, where I've figured out who "Sarah" really is and what she really stands for. It's the place where I've found career direction and on-the-side passions.

It's the place where I've grown up.

Looking foward to the future, to Chicago and school, I can't help but feel I'm leaving home all over again like I did 10 years ago when I packed up my room and headed to Athens. Only this time, there's no permanent address to come back to. And that thought is almost enough to break my heart.

Whoever knew I could actually love this stinky little town.

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

I'd drink moonshine every night

Someone has my dream job.

Ants Marching

I have a small ant problem.

About two years ago, I was standing in my kitchen when I noticed a tiny little ant crawling across the counter. And then another. And another. As my eyes followed the line of ants marching determinedly single file up the wall and through the crack in the door, I realized it was more than just an ant problem, it was full-scale invasion.

I declared war.

I bought an industrial size can of Raid; they hid out for a day until the fumes cleared. I bought fancy little ant motels they never checked into. I scrubbed every inch of my counter with bleach; they held a parade to celebrate. One morning, as I hurried to get ready for work, I poured myself a bowl of my beloved generic raisin bran cereal. Out poured hundreds of the little buggers, who had somehow found their way across the floor and up the shelves to the box.

Finally, after several weeks of intense battle, they started to disappear. Until this spring, when they began to show up again in the sink. It's like Ant War II, except this time they've recruited more troops and bought bigger guns. Not only are they in the sink and on the counter, but they're up in the bathroom (!?) hanging out. They've taken a liking to Casey's dog food, and every day I have to fish ant caracasses out of her water dish. (If it's any consolation to me, I think she just eats the damn things.) But the worst insult came last night, when I walked to the kitchen door to make some dinner and saw...

...a literal SEA of ants spanning the entire kitchen floor.

All right, you little assholes, it's war you want? It's war you've got... the assault begins NOW.

Bring it.