You've made it one year!

Happy wedding anniversary, Vince and Steph! Know that I'll be drinking to celebrate your marriage all week long! This Bud's for you!

Something to look foreward to

Like I said before, I've been going though some old photos and I'll probably be posting a few on the side bar for everyone to mock. I'll tell you one thing... Going through old photos certainly does nothing for my self-esteem. Sure, I've got a couple of really great pictures -- some of which I've posted on this site. But honestly, you know nothing of the vast amount of horrific pictures hiding in the shoeboxes of my past. Be warned: I WILL be pulling them out! I'm nothing if not self-depricating.

Waxing poetic

One of the reasons why I'm friends with Russ is because he's not afraid to be different. Nobody else I know would try to call me all weekend long and leave weird messages on our family phone's voice-mail. Friday's voice-mail was a short poem, but my favorite was Sunday's 10-minute voice-mail story about some guy who died. Sorry I wasn't there to answer the phone, brotha. But know that that you did indeed brighten my weekend while at the same time confused and confounded my parents. "Who's reading a story over the phone?!" Two birds with one stone! Good stuff, Russ. Good stuff.

Out of control

Drinking and driving is a bad idea. I've heard it over and over, but what really cements it is when bizarre things like this happen. I'm not a big drunk or anything so this is unfamiliar territory for me... But how can you not realize you've just decapitated your buddy in the passenger's seat? It blows my mind that there are people that drink so much they can't even remember what they did the night before! People, get yourselves to rehab!

Ronald Reagan Rocks

She had hair under her arms
And hair on both her legs
And her hate for you was never-ending
She was socially aware, yes
And I really couldn't care less
But her chest kept me pretending
She always said that she wished you were dead
And I nodded so she'd shut up and hop into bed
But that's the part that I'm sorry for now
Because I love you more than I loved her anyhow

Ronald Reagan
Please forgive me
Too dumb to see
What you were trying to give me
Ronald Reagan
You showed me this land's mine
They said you were living
In your own B-movie
But when the Wall fell
That's not what it looked like to me
Ronald Reagan
You showed me this land's fine

We would go to demonstrations
Where she took out her frustrations
By calling you a senile fascist
But the smell of all her friends
Would leave me breathless in the end
All so smart, but they don't know what a bath is
I started thinking you might not be so bad
And when you took out Khadafi, I was secretly glad
But it all went unsaid in my hippie chick's bed
We went three weeks without sex
When I made fun of Gorbachev's head

Repeat chorus

I finally learned that my professors
Were idiots and very bad dressers
For peace in our time at any cost
And if there was a war, they hoped we lost
But I knew we'd never lose with you around
Because the flag was still there
And someone still cared
In that city on the hill
Man, that's profound

Though her arguments were raucous
I couldn't vote for Dukakis
So that's how it ended
I traded one bird in the hand
To help a Bush to lead this land
And our love could not be mended
I saw her once and said, "Let's be friends"
But she said I'd rather hang out with stupid white men
Maybe it's true
Wish I could've hung out with you
Cause you were cooler than Bowie, Springsteen or U2

Ronald Reagan
Please forgive me
Too dumb to see
What you were trying to give me
Ronald Reagan
You showed me this land's mine
Ronald Reagan
Please forgive us
When we forget
What you were trying to give us
Ronald Reagan
You showed us this land's fine

by Undiscovered Sons
Download the song here
(link via Jay Nordlinger)

Status

I really don't have too much to say this week. I've thought about taking a week off from posting but, in the past when I've announced that, the next day I've found tons of things to post.

I continue to search for a job. I'm a little irritated because I constantly find jobs I'm very qualified for except I lack an active security clearance so I can't even apply. It's a continuous problem, especially in this area.

A friend of mine has been pressuring me to get my old photos out of shoeboxes and start scrapbooking. It's a dreadful hobby that demands time and copious amounts of money. It requires standing in the scrapbooking aisle at your local craft store examining paper, stickers, vellum, and cute accessories for hours at a time. It requires creativity, lots of paper cuts, and knowing the difference between adhesive dots, photo sticker tabs, and glue sticks. I have heard that the end result of all this pain and suffering is quite remarkable though so I'm prepared to give it a try. I'm keeping those shoeboxes around in case I can't cut it in the scrapbooking business.

I'm in a nasty mood today (if you haven't been able to tell) so I'm going to quit this post now before it quickly degenerates into a complaining session. Have a good weekend, Internet. I'll try to post something a little more uplifting before Monday.

Poison running through my veins

Funny stuff in today's Reliable Source. Crazy as the man is, Alice Cooper can make a statement. Turns out he's a Bush supporter. And he's not trying to make friends with the John Kerry crew.

"To me, that's treason. I call it treason against rock-and-roll, because rock is the antithesis of politics. Rock should never be in bed with politics. If you're listening to a rock star in order to get your information on who to vote for, you're a bigger moron than they are. Why are we rock stars? Because we're morons. We sleep all day, we play music at night and very rarely do we sit around reading the Washington Journal.

"Besides, when I read the list of people who are supporting Kerry, if I wasn't already a Bush supporter, I would have immediately switched. Linda Ronstadt? Don Henley? Geez, that's a good reason right there to vote for Bush."

He's such a freak, but he makes a good point.

Politics and Pizza

Domino's Pizza is getting political with its bipartisan pizza deal. The campaign is aimed at students, specifically Democrat-Republican roommates who order any half-and-half pizza. $3 bucks off! That's big money to a college student. Unfortuanetly, the deal's only good in Maryland, Virginia, and the District. This entire area around D.C. is so politically charged it even affects the pizza.

Assholishness ensues

More than anyone I know, my friend Hartmann needs a weblog. It would be a fascinating read. I'd read it daily. I first met Hartmann when I signed up to write commentary for my college newspaper. He was a fellow columnist (as was RAD) whose talent I respected but I didn't really fully enjoy his wit and humor until a few years later. He's been there for me at some unique moments in my young life: (1) He drove my car home after I drove off the side of a mountain pass, hit a mile marker, and freaked out. (2) He drove through the entire state of Kansas on a roadtrip without being passed. (3) It was his idea to go sledding down the sand dunes at midnight on Thanksgiving during a blizzard. Thanks to him, I lost a toe to frostbite.*

Hartmann is now in law school and periodically updates a group of us by email on how things are going. Here is his latest email:

Subject: A Theory of California Driving
Even though I only live a block from school, my day necessitates much driving. To wit, I have developed a theory on California driving and drivers. I call it the Biggest Asshole Theory (or BAT for short.) It goes like this: Everyone on the road (mostly meaning interstates and freeways) is convinced that everyone else is the biggest asshole currently allowed to drive. Californian nature and competitive drive being what it is, every other individual driver is utterly determined not to let ANYONE else be the biggest anything, so they take upon themselves the the burden of proving that THEY are the biggest asshole currently allowed to drive. A downward spiral of assholishness ensues, creating traffic jams, accidents, my being late to the gym, and probably global warming and terrorism while we're at it.

Genius, I tell you.

* I lied. I have all my toes.

I love me some Wilkie

For the past few weeks, I've been reading the classic Hide and Seek by my favorite author Wilkie Collins. I love reading and enjoy many different authors but no comes even remotely close to putting together a story like Collins. He is said to be the father of the detective mystery. I have yet to read a Wilkie Collins book I did not enjoy. The Woman in White and Moonstone are two of his most popular books and are fantastic. But one of my favorites is The Haunted Hotel. Anyone who is a fan of Victorian classics/mysteries should definitely give his books a try.

I've got a complex

This weekend, I went through two large shoe boxes full of photos from high school -- one full of random pictures and the other filled with old letters and pictures of an ex-boyfriend. I threw away a good 50% of all the junk I looked through and was able to consolidate it all to one shoe box. But before I trashed them, I opened all the little notes from my ex and nearly all of them contained something similar to the following:

Allison,
I miss you. I noticed you were uncommonly quiet today and I know something's wrong. I hope it wasn't something I did but if it was I'm sorry. I know I'm not the greatest guy... blah blah blah....

I must have read...like, twenty notes and cards that all sounded something like that! What was wrong with me?! Was I always annoyed at something? I must have been the worst girlfriend ever! Geez! How do people put up with me?

A dog after my own heart

Apparently Zeke does not appreciate Tom Cruise either... And he's not afraid to show it.

A new Olympic sport

Now this is a race I need to get in on.

Management at its finest

My manager at work is half American Indian and half Italian. He calls himself a Wapahoe. I almost ran him down in my wheelchair before our staff meeting today. He's a skinny guy with old tattoos of dragons up and down his forearms. He wears a gold chain and prefers Hawaiian shirts and pink polos to suits.

He likes to talk. "I hate lawyers," he said at the meeting. "I do believe they eat their young. My grandaughter wanted to be a lawyer and I said to her, 'I didn't raise my daughter to raise children that eat their young.' And I think that they know that I hate them. That building in D.C.... Uh, not the White House... The Capitol! That whole place is filled to the brim with lawyers. How come we have people that eat their young representing the common man? I've always said we should place two aircraft carriers, fill them with gold, and float them out in the ocean -- one in the Pacific and one in the Atlantic. Eventually the lawyers will gravitate to the boats and then we ought to flip the switch that blows those bad boys up. How 'bout that? ...Allison, when are you gonna get a horn on that chair?!..."

I really like him, but he is wasting his talents working for my company. He really ought to take the next flight to Hollywood and become a screenwriter.

AI, here I come

For the past two weeks now, my mom has been reminding me daily that American Idol try-outs are coming to D.C.

"Allison, are you taking Wednesday off? American Idol tryouts."
"Allison, let's go shopping. Dress to impress. American Idol tryouts."
"Have you picked a song out? American Idol tryouts."

Mom and I watched part of last season's show and she actually enjoyed it. I think she's anxiously awaiting the next season. She's actively trying to persuade me to participate in the show this year. Can't you see me getting all dressed up in a tight halter top, belly hanging out? Singing "Turn The Beat Around" or "I Will Survive"?

Simon Cowell: So, why are you here?
Allison: Because I AM the next American Idol.
Simon: Okay. Start.
Simon: Uh... Why are you spinning around in your wheelchair?
Allison: Huh? Oh. I'm dancing.

I'd be like last season's dwarf (or little person? What's the PC term these days?) except she's a much better singer. Think of the potential... I could be this season's William Hung! My mom would get a big kick out of it anyway. I live to amuse.

I love the Olympics!

Because I am a loser and had nothing better to do on Friday, I watched the entire opening ceremony of the Olympics in Greece. The opening show was beautiful. And then I watched the teams from something like 8,000 countries (or maybe it just felt like that many) file into the stadium. I kept thinking I should turn the channel or do something else, but no. I just sat there. I disgust myself. Not only because I watched the opening ceremony in its entirety, but because I watched ALL WEEKEND LONG. I even watched rowing.

The cool thing about the ceremony is that you get to watch all the athletes for every country come in. I loved seeing Iraq there. I thought Katie Couric's commentary was stupid and very negative overall, especially right before the U.S. came in:

Katie Couric: Hmm. Let's see what kind of reception the U.S. teams get when they come in.
(huge applause)
Katie (obviously surprised): Wow. Well, you know, Greece has always been able to separate what they think about the U.S. government with the American people themselves.

Please.

My favorite event has to be men gymnastics because I like watching men in tight clothes flexing their muscles. (My friend Mike says he doesn't know many women who would admit that.) But really, their strength amazes me. They are amazing on the rings. I can't even do a pull-up. I'm also a big fan of volleyball and swimming.

I cheered when the Iraqi soccer team beat Portugal. But I laughed when I found out the U.S. basketball team lost to Puerto Rico. Don't even get me started on the tragedy that the NBA is. It's sad when pro athletes turn down the offer to play at the Olympics because it's not lucrative enough to justify the effort.

Anyhow, I'm pulling for the U.S. athletes over there now and hope they make us proud. GO USA!

A love-hate relationship

The liberation of women in Western societies and especially the U.S. is a part of modernity detested in the Arab-Islamic world. They also associate it with hedonism, decadence and pornography. The autonomy of women flies in the face of [Islamic] traditions. ...

Many people around the world crave modernity but once it becomes clear that some of its fruits or byproducts are problematic, they turn on the U.S. — the major representative of modernity. ...

— Author Paul Hollander, interviewed by Jamie Glazov, Thursday in Front Page at www.frontpagemag.com

Courtesy of John Callahan

Are my eyes deceiving me?

I left work yesterday with a full, unopened pack of gum on my desk. When I came in this morning, it was opened and one piece was missing. I don't want to name names, but I think someone is getting sick and tired of picking up after me. Maybe she figured after all that extra work, she deserved a little something in return.

*UPDATE - Actually, I'm shocked nothing else of value was gone. If I wanted something in return I'd have taken the CDs, the lotion, the printer, the flat-panel monitor...

Find the differences

I HATE these types of things!

Excuse me. I have to go still my beating heart.

Reflection

We sat facing each other on my bed. He spoke slowly and deliberately as if he had rehearsed the words that would break off our three-year relationship. I looked at him as his lips moved and tried to conjure up some feeling but there was nothing. I had said goodbye to him long ago. He was now waiting for me to say something.

"Long-distance relationships are hard," I offered. I had started dating him in 11th grade after a few months of flirting in yearbook class. He graduated a year before me and was promoted to manager of a chain restaurant. After my graduation, I headed off to college -- 2,000 miles away. Distance has a way of separating souls. Forget that bull about making the heart grow fond.

"But it's more than that," he said. "You didn't miss me. You were more excited to see your dog." He was right. I hadn't meant for that to be so obvious. I tried to tell him we were two trains on different tracks, but he just shook his head. The truth was that I didn't want to settle for what he had to offer.

Six years later, I'm thinking about him, knowing that if I'd made a few different choices, my life may have turned out much differently. I turned down his proposal, his stability, and his predictability in favor of the Unknown. Did I take a gamble and lose? Perhaps I would be a housewife in Southern Maryland with two kids and one on the way. Perhaps I'd have a husband who loved me more than life. Perhaps I wouldn't be in a wheelchair. This kind of thinking is dangerous.

Our lives are filled with seemingly insignificant choices that shape our futures. I chose to go out-of-state to college. I chose to climb into that truck with Nate on the morning of my car accident. I chose to buckle the seatbelt. After my accident, I spent a lot of time thinking about the choices I'd made that shaped my condition. It's a waste of time.

Out of every gift I received when I was in the hospital, what I treasure the most is a small card with the following written on it:

I was regretting the past and fearing the future. Suddenly my Lord was saying: "My name is I AM."

"When you live in the past with its mistakes and regrets, I am not there. My name is not I WAS.

"When you live in the future with its fear and uncertainty, I am not there. My name is not I WILL BE.

"When you live in the present, I am here. My name is I AM."

I still think about past choices I've made and I do have regrets (mostly about the ways I've treated people). But I've never regretted making the decision to move away to go to college. A true sign of getting old is when you start throwing out phrases like "I wish I could take what I know now and live parts of my life over." I think that would be nice.

I'm getting old... or maybe I'm just getting wise. :)

The life and times of Zeke

My dog Zeke has become significantly less of a weenie in the past week as shown by two separate events:

1. My friend Mike and I took him on a walk. Unfortunately, in this instance 'walk' does not mean a normal pet/owner recreational activity in which a leash is used and the dog indeed walks. No. To keep Zeke from cowering under my wheelchair, I leave him off the leash and, amazingly enough, he seems to stick with me fairly well. Nevermind that an unleashed dog is illegal in these parts -- Zeke and I are above the law! Or at least I'm disillusioned enough to pretend like it.

Anyway, we took Zeke on a paved path that leads to a lake near my development. Zeke had a great time sniffing the bird poop, the geese poop, the rabbit poop, and all other forms of poop. I had a great time trying to avoid the aforementioned poop. After the excretement excitement died down, Zeke noticed the geese. He cocked his head, sniffed the air, and yelled, "Goose movement!" before he took off full speed toward the birds. He grew magic wings and flew into the lake while squawking geese scattered in every direction.

Meanwhile, I was bug-eyed and worried about his swimming skills and Mike was on the bank muttering something about not going in to save him. Fortunately, Zeke's doggie-paddling skills are as brilliant as his computer skills. I learned two things that day: (a) Zeke loves sniffing poop and terrorizing geese and (b) I should probably keep him on a leash.

2. Apparently, I don't learn well, because two days later, Vince, Steph, and I took Zeke on another walk without a leash. Yes, folks, I am really THAT stupid. Actually, I must have retained some knowledge because we originally started out with him on a leash. But that knowledge must have drained out my ear somewhere between my house and the lake because when I saw that no one was at the lake, we unleashed him. Who can deprive a puppy of his fun?! Not me.

Again, he had a great time with the poop and the geese. Who doesn't like poop and geese? Again, not me. But this time, Zeke found something new to chase -- CARS! A road runs by the far side of the lake. A car flew by and Zeke took off after it. I've never seen a 12-lb. dog move so fast. And that was it... He was gone. Disappeared. About this time, Steph and Vince broke into a sprint after him. I've never seen a brother-in-law move so fast!

After awhile, he came trotting back with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth (Zeke, not Vince) and looked at me as if he was saying, "That car was one lucky SOB. Who knows what damage I would've done if I caught it." It took approximately 20 minutes for us to catch that little wisecrack and put his leash back on.

Lessons learned: (a) Despite what Zeke tells me, he really should have a leash on for his own safety. And (b) I shouldn't let Zeke sweet-talk me so often. I'm such a sucker for a cutie.

Slaying my backside on a daily basis

Steph and Vince came down from Philly this weekend bearing belated birthday gifts and presents from London. I gave Steph one of my excellent mixed CDs and she gave me a new brushed chrome (Vince's influence) coffee maker and Buffy the Backside Slayer exfoliating soap from London. A fair trade if you ask me.

State-swappers

As phenomenal as I think Alan Keyes is, I hate to see the conservative run for Senate in Illinios. As a matter of principle, it seems so wrong for a person to run in a state they don't even live in. But tell that to Gary Hart, who moved to Colorado, or Hillary Clinton, who certainly took some heat over her hasty New York move, or the voters who voted these out-of-staters in. It's done all the time and I don't like it one bit. As conservative as I lean, I would almost be dismayed if the good people of Illinios voted for Keyes over Obama-rama. ALMOST, I said. If I was a resident of Illinios, I'd vote for Keyes in a second. I just wish they could've scrounged up someone from the state.

Alan Keyes probably has a better chance in Illinios than his ultra-liberal home-state of Maryland. In fact, quite frequently I marvel at the political anomaly that is Republican Governor Ehrlich. A Republican?! In Maryland?! It's unheard of. It's a shame because he's truly a great man (although he seems to owe the state of Maryland some cash) and one of the most polished speakers I've ever heard. I like so much of what he stands for. I wish he'd continue his attempts to unseat Maryland's senators.

*Sob*

"Oh, Allison, you smell different today. Is that a new perfume you've got on?"
"Yeah, it's called Caladryl."

--------------------------------

I am a big baby! All I can think about is scratching. I'm having issues with my poison ivy and am using any excuse whatsoever to complain about it:

At work...
"What about you, Allison? How are you doing on those HAT tickets? What do you have?"
"I got nothin' but a bad case of poison ivy, boss."

At home...
"What are your plans for tonight?"
"My plans revolve around sitting in the bathroom and soaping down my bad case of poison ivy."

Driving...
"Do you realize you just ran three stoplights and hit a small child?"
"I'll tell you what I realize -- My bad case of poison ivy, officer."

See? It's called obsession. And the sad thing is that it's not even a 'bad' case. It's a 5-inch oval on my arm. That's not really that bad at all compared to these poor, filthy, disgusting people with huge rashes on their faces and legs! People are starving in Africa and I'm droning on about poison ivy!

I just read a whole section on remedies and treatments for the itch and discovered just how desperate people become when they're suffering. Slather it with Miracle Whip, use ammonia or bleach, rub dirt on it, pee on it, douse it with WD-40 or gasoline, use Windex (ha!), drywall joint compound (!), drink heavily, etc.

So I'm going to go home and drink myself into a stupor while concocting a mixture of mayo, Windex, gasoline, urine, and drywall. With any luck, I'll feel better tomorrow and smell even more interesting than I do today. :)

Links

For your reading pleasure, I've listed several fascinating links I know each of you will enjoy.

1. First and most important (and I'm certain as the new spokeswoman, Kim will enjoy this), Horny Goat Weed is much more than a quick fix for impotence. Read about the wonders of the herbal supplement.

2. Don't miss Ms. Wheelchair USA in all her glory. Check in on the representatives from each state and don't doubt that I could easily kick ass in this lame competition.

3. Ladies, looking for a muscular man who really knows how to move? I've got your guys right here.

4. Been dying to see any beautiful star bald? I know you have. Look no further.

Keeping State out of Church

I can't begin to tell you how many times political figures have made appearances and given speeches at Black churches in D.C. I've alway been very critical of churches that allow political discussion. To me, it's the equivalent of the church endorsing the politician or whatever that politician stands for. It's assuming everyone in the congregation votes a certain way. I would be one pissed-off white girl if my church invited Kerry or Bush (or *gasp* Rev. Al Sharpton) to speak at a service. Despite what many people think, God is not a Democrat or Republican. So why should any church officially stand behind one candidate or another? It's not the church's job to provide political advise to its congregation.

I brought this topic up this morning to one of my friends. "But what if one candidate's views on the issues aligns directly with biblical principles?" she asked. "Why can't the church endorse that candidate?" I don't like the church telling people who to vote for. That's not for the church to address. The church SHOULD address the biblical principles and allow the congregation to take those principles to the voting booth.

"But what about uneducated voters in a congregation?" Eh. Screw the uneducated voters. They're part of the problem.

So I was intrigued when I ran across this interview of former D.C. mayor and crackhead Marion Barry in the Washington Post Magazine.

Black people are not afraid to use the church interchangeable with politics because for a long time that was our meeting place, the only place we could go to socialize. We couldn't go downtown. We had our banquets there in church, our meeting place. And we had our politics. Now ministers are careful not to mix it too much, but politics is still an integral part of the black community in church.

After reading the article, I admit that I do understand the culture a little more. However, using a pulpit for political reasons still leaves a very bad taste in my mouth.

'EVVVVERYONE!'

I finally got around to watching The Professional and I must say -- Gary Olman is one of the most psychotic bad guys. I'm not just talking about Bad Guys. I'm talking about villains who are a little south of sanity. ...killing to the sound of Mozart...

Runners up:
Jude Laws character in Road to Perdition
The Creepy Guy in Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark
Jack Nicholson in Batman and The Shining
Kathy Bates in Misery
Alan Rickman in Robin Hood: Prince of Theives
Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction
Christopher Walken is pretty creepy in just about everything.

007

Oh, my! Eric Bana, you can be MY James Bond anyday! However, I am sad to see Pierce Brosnan go. He seems to fit the Bond persona very well. Apparently, the producers are hoping to reinvent James Bond as a slicker, younger, more modern hero -- a big mistake if you ask me. But since when has Hollywood asked me anything?

Itchy, itchy, itchy

I must have poison ivy. For the past two days, I've had a small, thin red line of some freaky rash on the inside of my forearm. I want to rip the skin off. So, I've been dousing it in bleach and performing other home remedies to dull the itch (i.e. chanting and banging my head up against the wall).

What completely baffles me is how I contracted it. It's not exactly like I'm rolling around in the brush in the backyard. My only guess is that Zeke the Weenie Dog was doing exactly that. He gave me The Itch on purpose! He was probably getting revenge for that time I accidently shut him in the cabinets.

*UPDATE! - I want to rip the flesh off my arm. Why can I feel the itch? For goodness sake! Why can't I at least enjoy the freakin' benfits of being paralyzed?!