More photos, Chiang Mai

Chiang Mai is Thailand's second-largest city and is known as the capital of the North. It's about 450 miles north of Bangkok, and is the place to go for anything outdoorsy. I did a one-day trek with hiking, whitewater rafting and bamboo rafting. Then I spent my next day there wandering around looking at temples. It's also the place where I got a traditional Thai massage -- at the Chiang Mai Women's Prison.

Riding on Hanoi the elephant. She's 10 years old and lives in the hills in Chiang Mai province, outside of the city. They seem to treat her OK. Elephants in Thailand have tough lives because at one point in history they were really useful to people, so people breeded them a lot. Then as automobiles became affordable the elephant as a tool became obsolete. So in some of the country, they've been reduced the beggars -- people ride around on elephants with blinking lights tied to their tails and charge tourists for feeding them bananas. It's all pretty sad. But in Lampang Province, which neighbors Chiang Mai, there's an elephant sanctuary where they have an elephant hospital and take really good care of the elephants.

The hike in Chiang Mai was more challenging than I'd anticipated given that half the participants were middle-aged. But seriously, they fell less than I did.

We hiked to this waterfall and they said we could swim if we wanted. Most of us didn't, but a 50-year-old Chinese man named Mr. Woo stripped down to his panties (yup, they were panties) and stood under it. I think I'm the only one who noticed when the panties nearly came off from the force of the waterfall. I was definitely the only one staring in awe.

We crossed this river in a weird cage thing that zipped across a rope. It was all very odd.

The North of Thailand is the home to six different hilltribes, which have their own languages and support themselves by selling simple handicrafts. I'm unclear about who buys their handicrafts since their villages are all so far out of the way from everything, but they seem to be happy enough.

Hilltribe, Chiang Mai province

Members of the hilltribe in front of their shops

The city of Chiang Mai is huge and very Westernized. It's supposedly also easier to get around than Bangkok because it's actually planned, but that didn't stop me from being perpetually lost.

Wat Chiang Mun, which is thought to be the oldest temple in the city. It has a stone slab engraved in 1581 and bears the earliest known reference to the city's 1296 founding. The guy who took my picture seemed to be the temple's keeper of sorts, just standing there and making sure visitors respected the Buddha and such. He liked me immediately when he saw me drop some money into the donation box, and I figured I'd capitalize by asking him to take my picture.

Inside Wat Chiang Mun

I'm not sure that Wat Phan Tao has any remarkable stories to its name, but it's kind of cool looking, I think.

Wat Phan Tao

Inside Wat Phan Tao

The Three Kings Monument commemorates the three most revered northern kings -- Ngam Meuang, Mengrai and Khun Ramkhamhaeng. You can see a guy kneeling in front of the monument -- locals often bring offerings here in hopes that the spirits of the kings will bring them good luck.

Wat Chedi Luang is a temple complex that is partially in ruins and partially still in use. It's also the site of a monk school, and they encourage English-speaking visitors to stop by and talk to the monks so they can practice their English.

Wat Chedi Luang

Talking to monks at Wat Chedi Luang. They're all from Laos and around 21 years old. The one on the left wants to go back to Laos and become a journalist who writes about Buddhism. The one on the right wants to return to Laos and teach English. The one taking the picture wanted to know if I lived near Las Vegas. When I finally understood what he was asking me and said, "Las Vegas? You're asking about Las Vegas?" they all repeated "Las Vegas" under their breath, seemingly committing it to memory for some big monk hurrah... or something.


Next to the Chiang Mai Women's Prison is a prison shop, where you can buy little crafts made by the prisoners or get a traditional Thai massage. All the money raised goes toward the prisoners after they get out. I got a massage, and the girl doing it seemed really nice. She was shy and was very flattered when I complimented her on the massage. The women doing the massages are due to be released within six months, according to Lonely Planet. I'm not sure what their crimes are, but I haven't heard much about violent female criminals in Northern Thailand...

The Chiang Mai Women's Prison (the massage shop is just down the road)

Last pictures: Ko Samet

I spent my last two days in Ko Samet, and did absolutely nothing. It's the northernmost island (only takes about four hours to get there from Bangkok, including the ferry ride), and is also a national park so there isn't as much development as in the rest of the islands. Dogs roam around everywhere, but they haven't gone wild so they're nothing like the packs of wild dogs in Kanchanaburi, where on multiple occasions I actually wondered if I was about to get mauled. But as long as no one does anything to curb the dog population, it won't be long until it gets really out of control.








So that's it. If you want more, you can check out the MySpace pics, but I'm assuming this is enough for just about anyone. Holy shit that took a long time...

Ko Samet

I'm not going to post much because the sun just came out and I'm at the beach. I just have a little time to kill before my new friend gets back fom the bank and we can walk back to the guesthouse.

Ko Samet is one of the less-developed islands in Thailand, but resorts still seem to be sprouting up around it. There's still just one dirt road (or, more accurately, one mud road filled with puddles spanning the width of it, since it rains every night) running the perimeter of the island, but my guess is it'll be paved within two years. Last night I stayed in a little bungalow with a fan, public bathroom way out of the way, mosquito net (complete with gaping holes throughout) over the bed, and the sound of Justin Timberlake, Shakira and bullfrogs outside throughout the night. All at the same time.

Tonight I'm springing for the more expensive bungalow down the beach, on the beach with more old people and fewer backpackers. British people seem to have the worst taste in music. (Sorry UK Paul, if you still read this thing)

Anyway I was talking to this girl Sabrina, who's from Ireland, and she helped me come up with a decent story idea about how tourism in Thailand has changed over the last five, 10, 20 years. I think it's actually an interesting story, especially when you consider that *everything* was in English up in Chiang Mai, which I guess I wasn't expecting -- at least to that extent. Everything is becoming Westernized, which I guess helps their economy some, but they continue to struggle and now a tourist can come here and successfully avoid all Thai culture -- even outside of Bangkok.

It's still there though, if you venture out and look.

I got the e-mail address of a British guy who came here five years ago and has seen a lot of these changes, so I can talk more to him if I decide to do the story.

Anyway my last day in Chiang Mai was cool... I chatted it up with a few monks at one of the temples. They sit outside and you're supposed to go up and talk to them so they can practice their English. All three were from Laos and wanted to return there after finishing... monk school? They all had one year left, and one was 21, so I'm assuming the others were as well.

So one wanted to be a journalist who writes about Buddhism (I guess they have those in Laos?), one wants to be an English teacher back in Laos, and the third wanted to know if I lived near Las Vegas.

The temples in Chiang Mai were pretty cool -- they date back pretty far but my notes are in my bag and I don't feel like getting them out -- plus I doubt that any of you care too much about the details of Chiang Mai temples or the archaeological findings up there.

OK, I'm headed to the beach now. I was going to go snorkeling but have since decided that I'm way too tired to do anything but lay out on the sand and eat whatever the people pass by with to sell. Can't believe I'm leaving tomorrow...

Chiang Mai

Holy crap I'm tired.

I was just on my way to the Night Bazaar in Chiang Mai, but then it started raining so I ducked into an Internet cafe instead to wait out the rain. It's since occurred to me that the rain may only get harder, in which case I probably should have just walked all the way to the Night Bazaar and ducked under the tents. Now I'll have to walk the rest of the way in the pouring rain.

Anyway after getting the overnight train from Bangkok up to Chiang Mai last night, today I rode an elephant, went hiking, went whitewater rafting and rode a bamboo raft. There are all kinds of treks like that you can do from Chiang Mai, so I decided to do that instead of just rock climbing. The elephant I rode was named Kanoi... or maybe it was Hanoi... I don't remember. Anyway she's 10 years old and much smaller than all the other elephants. I think the guy said elephants don't reach full-grown til they're 20, but that didn't seem right to me... maybe there was a miscommunication with the whole language thing.

So Kanoi/Hanoi seemed happy enough. She stopped a lot along the trail to eat bamboo and they seemed to treat her well enough. The Thai have a deep respect for elephants, but since automobiles became so mainstream they've had less use for the elephants, which means a lot of them don't live very good lives. There's an elephant hospital up here in Chiang Mai where they take really good care of them, but I won't have time to visit.

The hiking and whitewater rafting weren't exactly expert-level, but that's probably best since I was having some trouble with the easy hiking trail we took anyway (my gimp knee and ankle causes me to fall... a lot). The rafting guide sort of pissed me off because he kept implying that women were weaker and couldn't row as hard as men. I wanted to thwack him in the head with my oar ("Ooops! I'm just a helpless little girl! I just don't know what I'm doing!") but then I thought he might fall into the rocks and the three of us left in the raft would be left to our own devices. And the two others on the raft were men who seemed generally amused by Clueless Sexist Guide, so they might have taken his side.

I think the rain stopped. I wonder if that'll last. It's rainy season here -- especially in the north -- so downpours start and stop out of nowhere.

So tomorrow I'm going to wander around Chiang Mai to visit some temples, and then maybe get a Thai massage at the women's prison where they save all the money the prisoners make and then give it to them when they get out (don't worry -- they don't put you alone in a room with the violent criminals... I don't think).

Then I'm taking an overnight train back to Bangkok and a few different buses and a ferry to Ko Samet, which is my last stop here. I can't believe it's almost over...

OK, on to the Night Bazaar...

Kanchanaburi

OK I see that people are checking this thing... where are the comments?

I hit up the Tiger Temple today. I guess I was expecting to be disappointed but hoping to be surprised, if that makes sense. In the end, I was disappointed, which was really sad even though I was expecting it.

I'm pretty sure the tigers are drugged. The whole thing's become so commercialized that the volunteers lead people in and out of the tiger area in a constant stream. And if they treat the tigers anything like they treat the visitors (they pull you by the wrist from one tiger to the next), the tigers have to be annoyed at best, and really fucking pissed off and defeated at worst. They're chained. The tiger cub seems happy - he runs around and plays sporadically and seems to have a pretty good repor with the monk who was chillin' there today.

Some of the older tigers seem content enough, too. But one was pacing back and forth, clearly done with the whole thing, and they kept squirting him with this yellow liquid from a water bottle. I tried to ask them what they were squirting him with but they kept thinking I was saying I wanted my picture taken with him and wouldn't listen. A German guy on my bus there said he heard on a German news report that the yellow liquid was an all-natural thing to calm them down. He said it's very common and that people use it all the time and cats love it, but he didn't know the English word for it. He made me stop guessing after a while because, well, everything I was guessing was clearly wrong. Liquid catnip? Chamomile tea? Warm milk? (yes, I seriously guessed all these things)

The German guy said the news report interviewed a bunch of tiger experts and they all said they didn't understand how the monks kept these tigers so docile. I don't either. I thought maybe the tigers would be playing around and you'd just take a picture with whomever was resting when your turn came up, but they're all on short chains and perched sadly in their little spots.

The whole temple is a strange place. At feeding time they throw the food out and animals come out from all directions to eat. You have everything from deer to wild hogs to chickens to other birds to horses all running around in the same area. They kept the tiger out, chained down, while the other animals ran around and ate. His instincts are there even though he was brought up in captivity -- he got down low and stalked the animals that were close to him.

The cub, at least, seemed happy playing with the monk. I have some pictures of that (OK, I have 70 pictures of that), so I'll pick the best ones when I get home and post them. Another tiger seemed content enough, too. I walked alongside him and pet him for a while to see. (there's a very blurry picture of me walking with a grown tiger and a monk)

In the end, I kept trying to tell myself that these tigers are better off here than left at the hands of poachers. They have to spend four hours a day enduring obnoxious tourists (it was even worse today because it was raining and cats hate water, so if they were in their natural habitat, they'd seek shelter), but maybe it's better than the alternative. Maybe the monks are also figuring it's an ends-justify-the-means sort of thing (are monks ends-justify-the-means sort of guys), because once they raise enough money they can build a big new reserve for the tigers and the tigers can be happy. Maybe.

Anything the trek from downtown Kanchanburi to the Tiger Temple is about 25 miles. I took a guesthouse-sponsored tour vehicle, which ended up being a backless pickup truck with two rows of seats along the sides, facing each other. The other people on my tour were the German guy (who, incidentally, visited the temple four years ago and said it was a totally different experience back then); a couple with a Thai girl and a guy whose nationality I couldn't place; and two Australian men who I'm assuming were a couple based on their matching fisherman's hats, matching bags and shared giant pink umbrella with flowers. We all got very wet because it was pouring rain, but one of the Australians held the giant umbrella out in a well-meaning attempt to shield us from the muddy water spraying up from the back tires.

So when I got back from the temple I'd had 45 minutes to think about the tigers and I was pretty sad. But then I dropped my stuff in my bungalow and when I stepped back out onto the deck in front of my door there was a little brown and black cat sitting on the chair. So I told it to stay there, got my camera from inside and took a picture. Then I sat in the other chair to write in my journal and the cat jumped up in my lap. And then its friend, a little black cat with an injured tail, jumped up on my lap, too. The black cat soon relocated to the other chair, but the brown and black one stayed a while. And despite the tiger-sadness, I thought about the fact that I was sitting in Thailand with a cat in my lap and I'd just watched a baby tiger play with a monk -- and I realized that there was really nowhere in the world I'd rather be at that moment. Which is pretty cool.

So a quick outline of Kanchanaburi before I sign off...

This is the site of the bridge over the River Kwai and where about 7,000 POWs are buried after being killed while working on the railway during WWII. There's a relatively extensive museum here with a pertty balanced history of the war, so I checked that out and also walked through the cemetery with all the POW graves. They're mostly Brits and Aussies -- the few Americans who were killed were brought back to the U.S. for burial.

There's a lot more to see and do here but I'm not going to have time. I'll getting an early bus back to Bangkok tomorrow morning (I was gonna do the scenic train over the River Kwai but then decided there's no way I'll get to the station in time for the 7:15 a.m. departure), and I'll spend the day in Chinatown before getting an overnight train up to Chiang Mai where I'll hopefully do some rock climbing, go to a spa and do a night safari. Then I have an overnight train back to Bangkok and a day-long assortment of buses and ferries from Bangkok to Ko Samet. I was going to do Ko Chang (for the elephant trekking and scuba diving), but I realized last night that I won't have time.

Oh well...

Now I'm going to grab a quick drink at "No Name Bar," a backpacker hub with a sign outside that says "Get shitfaced on a shoestring."

Not sure when I'll be able to post again. I realized that beginning last night, I'd be spending the night in seven different beds/chairs/sleepers over eight days.

I might post from Bangkok tomorrow if I get tired of Chinatown...

Bangkok

Tonight's my last night in Bangkok. I'm getting up at the asscrack of dawn tomorrow to make my way to Konchanaburi for tiger-petting! I figured I'd spend the night there and then come back to Bangkok in the morning to spend some time in Chinatown before catching the overnight train up to Chiang Mai. I'm insanely tired, and I'm guessing this four-different-beds-in-four-nights thing isn't gonna help. I *so* wish I were Australian. The government there mandates that they get four weeks of vacation per year. Lucky bastards.

But I digress...

I spent my birthday yesterday visiting all the main sites in Bangkok. I took a ferry to the Grand Palace and then walked from there to Wat Pho. I also spent a lot of time wandering through the Amulet Market, which is a long line of street stalls selling random stuff, ranging from traditional medicines to little keychains to small-potato-looking fruits. The Grand Palace is massive. You wander through the whole thing and then take off your shoes to go inside the room with the Emerald Buddha -- and the Emerald Buddha is so small you can barely find it among the surrounding gold and jewels.

On the other end of the spectrum, the reclining Buddha in Wat Pho is so big it looks like it's going to explode out of its little holding space.

While I was in the downtown area (I'm sure that's not what they call it), I stumbled into this festival-type thing. I initially thought it was a market but then saw what looked like a date range on a sign outside, so I figured it must be a festival. I wandered through there for a while and tried to find vegetarian food. Turns out, the word "vegetable" is really difficult for non-English speakers to say (and thus, to understand), so I ended up trudging along to all the different stalls, pointing to "I only eat vegetarian food" in my Thai phrasebook. This prompted many polite "no's" and I eventually settled on a stall with some noodle-looking things on display and asked the lady for what the person before me had. It turned out to be a concoction of cabbage-like noodle-looking-things, tomato, cabbage, spices and shrimp. The lady mushed it all up in a big cauldron-looking thing and put it on a plate with something that looked like green branches on top.

When I got back to my guesthouse yesterday around 5 p.m. I figured I'd relax for a little while and then head out to get dinner and more blister pads from the Really Expensive Pharmacy For Foreigners. I half woke up a few hours later and decided I wasn't going anywhere. Apparently I'm getting very, very old.

This morning I went to the Chatuchek Weekend Market, which is this sprawling metropolis of stalls selling everything from shirts to incense to food to underwear. One stall sold both food *and* underwear. The vendors here are way less aggressive and pushy than the ones in Morocco and China, where they yell at you and try to pull you into their booths. I was a little surprised by the chill factor given how pushy the tuk-tuk drivers are.

Tuk-tuks are motorized three-wheelers with back seats. They're kind of like taxis but they're not metered so you negotiate a fare before getting on. The drivers are notorious rip-off artists and often take people to guesthouses, etc. that give them commissions. They also like to hang out by bus stops and try to get people to use them instead. One wanted me to get in his tuk-tuk for "10 baht anywhere," but I'm sure he would have tried to charge me more if I took him up on it.

I've actually sort of figured out the lay of the land here. I took the bus to the subway today to get to the weekend market, which is on the outskirts of town. That was easy enough because the fare-collecting girl on the bus was nice enough to tell me when we were at my stop. I thought I'd have a lot more trouble on the way back, because I didn't know the name of the bus stop and the fare-collecting-guy was considerably less friendly. But I totally surprised myself and got off at the exact right stop and even walked in the right direction to my guesthouse on the first try. Because I'm just that awesome.

So I guess that's all that's worth telling. Oooh except I forgot to tell you people about the best part of the flight here. The plane had individual TVs at each seat, and there were options for television shows, movies or video games (I played Super Mario Bros. till my thumbs blistered. The best part: The TV shows option had three categories -- Comedy, Hits,and Grey's Anatomy. That's right -- I had 10 episodes of Grey's Anatomy to keep me occupied. I love the Thai.

Tigers tomorrow. Maybe I'll update from Konchanaburi.

In Thailand

I'm finally in Thailand... I started in Ayuthaya, which was the capital of Thailand until sometime in the 1700s, I think. I made the decision to start there because the Lonely Planet book I had told me there was a train that went directly from the airport. That seemed like the easiest option, rather than having to navigate through Bangkok after a 17-hour flight.

Had I looked at the book a little more closely, I would have learned that Bangkok recently built a new airport. With no train access.

It took me about two hours to get through customs and then navigate through the airport. Then I had to take a shuttle bus to the nearest bus station, a minibus all the way across Bangkok to the northeastern bus station, and a long-distance bus to Ayuthaya. All said, about a four-hour trek.

I met some nice Thai men on the buses, so each of them helped me find my way through the bus depots and onto the right bus. The first guy knew English pretty well, so that ended up being really easy. The second guy knew some English words but wasn't too sure how to string them together. We had an hour-and-a-half long conversation on the bus ride across Bangkok and I have absolutely no idea what we were talking about.

When I told him I was going to Ayuthaya, he said,
"Yes. Where are you going?"
I tried again, "Ayuthaya."
"I am," he said. "Where do you go?"
"Ayuthaya?" I asked, trying a different inflection.
"Yes," he said politely. "I am Thai. But where are you going?"

This is when I figured out the problem. Me saying "Ayuthaya" apparently sounds like "Are you Thai, ya?" It was like an unfunny version of Who's On First? I got out the tourbook and pointed at Ayuthaya, and he said, "Oh! Ayuthaya!" That's when I realized the Thai writing in parts of the tourbook was going to be an invaluable resource.

I lost the tourbook less than 24 hours later.

After a night and morning in Ayuthaya, I walked to the ferry to cross the river to the train station so I could get a train to Bangkok. The dock-like thing to wait for the ferry was scary because you had to cross this rickety wooden plank to get to it. Then you just sort of jump into the little boat as it floats in and out and I'm assuming I forgot the tourbook sometime during my fear-ridden state of falling into the water.

Anyway it worked out OK in the end -- there was an expensive-as-hell bookstore at the train station in Bangkok, and I was able to buy a new Lonely Planet book there for 975 baht. (about $30) For comparison's sake, that's more than the three-night stay at my guesthouse in Bangkok will be.

So the information desk people at the Bangkok train station were incredibly helpful (unlike the information people at the airport who are... not), and I easily found a bus to Banglamphu, where I met a nice Aussie who walked me from the bus stop to the guesthouse where he's staying. It overlooks the river and is supposed to be a relatively quiet neighborhood, but still close to everything in Banglamphu. He also pointed out some of the sites en route from the train station.

I just got back from a vegetarian restaurant hidden just off Khao San Road. I was just about to give up on finding it when it was suddenly right in front of me. That kind of thing's been happening a lot over the past day and a half, it seems. Either that or I'll unintentionally walk in a complete circle and have to start all over again.

Maps seem to be useless here. There are very few road signs; and when there are road signs, they rarely include the Roman spellings; and in the rare instances when they do include the Roman spellings, it's spelled so differently than what's on the map that sometimes you don't even know it's the same road.

It's a little better in Bangkok than Ayuthaya, at least. Although I'm sure I'll get completely lost tomorrow when I try to go to the Grand Palace.

Ayuthaya, incidentally, was interesting. It's full of ruins of ancient temples that you can walk through. For some of the temples, the ruins are so extensive that it looks a little bit like the remnants of a tiny village.

I got into Ayuthaya after dark, so after making my way to a guesthouse, I ventured out to the night market for dinner. It's completely not-touristy, so I realized quickly that ordering food was gonna be tough. I walked to the food stall with the most vegetables on display and I asked the lady if she knew any English. She gave me a menu with English on the back and I thought I'd hit the jackpot. I ordered glass noodles with vegetables and got glass noodles with calamari, shrimp, chicken and a bunch of other meat-type ingredients I didn't recognize. So much for vegetarianism here. On the plus side, a Very Nice Man brought me a glass of ice water just as my mouth was starting to feel like fire.

I wandered through ruins all morning today, and then headed to Bangkok and lost my tourbook. The minute I got into my room at the guesthouse in Bangkok I turned on the fan, stripped off all my clothes and lay spread eagle on the bed while the fan blew on me. It's SO HOT here. And humid. My skin is perpetually sticky from an amalgamation of sweat, mosquito repellent and sunscreen. It's damn sexy.

So I guess that's about it, so far. Tomorrow I'll spend my birthday at the Grand Palace, Wat Pho, and a bunch of other famous Bangkok landmarks. Sunday I'll check out the Weekend Market and Monday it's off to the Konchabari Province to pet tigers. Then I'll hit up Chinatown back in Bangkok on Tuesday and get an overnight train up to Chiang Mai.

I'll post again at some point...

Leaving in a few hours

So I'll be leaving for Thailand in a few hours. My flight leaves JFK at 11:35 a.m. today (Wednesday), and I'll get into Bangkok 17½ hours later, hopefully not long after the Xanex has worn off.

I'm going straight from the train station to Ayuthaya, a province north of Bangkok that was the Siamese royal capital from 1350 to 1767. It has a bunch of ancient temple ruins, and a night bazaar that's supposed to be pretty cool.

Anyway the plan is to spend the first night in Ayuthaya, check out the night bazaar and some of the temples at night, then wander around and visit some temples during the day before catching a train down to Bangkok. So at least the first time I have to maneuver my way through Bangkok will be in the light.

I'll update this thing when I can. And I'll be back with all kinds of pictures. Of Tigers.

"In today's world, pants are worn fairly loose"

Taken directly from the AP, because A) I'm lazy and don't even feel like writing the stuff I *should* be writing, and B) I'm just not sure I can do any better...

DULUTH, Minn. (AP) — A man who allegedly tried to burglarize a home lost his clothes in a scuffle with the 69-year-old homeowner and then tried to streak away before he was arrested.
Wayne and Kathie Boniface returned home from dinner Thursday night at a neighbor's to find the man in their house. Wayne Boniface said the man made the mistake of grabbing his wife.
"As soon as he grabbed my wife, I had him in the kitchen wrestling him to the ground in a headlock and arm-lock,'' Boniface said.
First, Boniface said, he ripped the man's shirt off. Then, "his head was down over the railing, and in today's world, pants are worn fairly loose. I pulled his pants, and his pants and underpants and shoes came completely off. He was completely nude.''
When police asked Boniface if he could identify the suspect, he said: "Oh, yeah.
I believe he's the only guy running nude in Duluth.''
The 20-year-old man was apprehended about 20 minutes later. He has been charged with two counts of first-degree burglary. The man's name was not released.

In other news, I'll be en route to Thailand in less than 48 hours. Don't hate me because I'll be petting tigers and you won't...

What local law enforcement has cum to

A San Rafael, Calif. man is suing the police department there for his $10,000 porn collection, which they took during an investigation, according to the Associated Press.

Dennis Saunders, 59, was arrested in 2002 for taping a 45-year-old woman and 16-year-old girl in their bedrooms and bathrooms. He was sentenced to more than eight years in prison, but was released last month for good behavior.

Now he wants his 500 porn movies and 250 porn magazines back from the police. The police department is refusing to part with this evidence.

I'm sure it'll all work out in the end. He can always dust off the old video camera and make some homemade porn. There must be some new 16-year-old girls in his apartment building...

Ya come here often?

OK. So I recognize that it's incredibly difficult for guys to approach girls in public places and try to drum up conversation. But there are, at least, venues at which we're more likely to be receptive. A bar, for example. Or maybe a party. Or a coffee shop. Hell, at the tiger exhibit at the zoo. But not the beach. Not while I'm lying there in a bikini, feeling a little exposed anyway, and I can see your hard-on under your shorts.

Old Becky and I were at the shore today, being unusually unobnoxious for us. We were lying out reading, when all of a sudden something cast a shadow over my sun.

I looked up from my New York Times Magazine, and a guy smiled down at me and said, "Ya readin'?"

"Um... I was?" I said.

"Whaddaya got there? The New York Times Magazine?" he asked.

"Yup."

He smiled and leaned closer to me.

"I'm Steve," he said, extending his hand for me to reach up and shake.

Please keep in mind that I was not sitting in a chair or in any sort of position that would allow for this not to be an awkward position.

"Erica," I said, quickly shaking his hand before returning to my magazine.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

And I hate that question. Because I'm *from* L.A. I *live* in New Jersey. Which is probably what people mean most of the time they ask where you're from. But I'm conditioned to respond to that question with, "L.A.," which tends to cause confusion. So...

"L.A.," I said, and quickly realized that that was the wrong answer because it would bring the inevitable what-are-you-doing-here question and elongate this already unwelcome conversation. "But I live in Edison now."

"Ohhh!" he said, excited because he apparently decided this means we have a connection after all. "I used to live in New Brunswick!! One town over!!!"

"Actually it's two towns over," I said.

"Oh." A pause. "So do you come here often?"

"No," I said.

At that point Becky burst out laughing.

"Oh," he said. "I come here sometimes. So what kind of music do you like?"

I put an end to the atrocity right about then, telling him I liked all kinds of music but that I really didn't want to talk about my musical tastes. I ensured him it'd been great meeting him and all but I really did want to find out what was going to happen next in the magazine I was reading. He looked confused for a second and then walked away.

Now. Again, I respect that it's difficult to come up to a girl, and I recognize it's difficult to know what to say once you *do* come up to her. But I'm not sure what makes someone think that approaching a girl lying on the beach and reading, and asking her if she's reading is a good idea.

It baffles me. That's all.

Change for a 10

A robber in Greenburgh, N.Y. forced his victim to go into a pizza place and get change for a 10 because the robber only wanted $4.

James Mitchell, 48, of Mount Vernon, held an 18-year-old kid at knifepoint and told him he wanted a plastic rose the kid had just bought and $4. When the kid said all he had was a 10, Mitchell told him to go into a nearby pizza place and get change.

Greenburgh police Capt. Joseph DeCarlo, as quoted in the AP:
"He came out of the store and was approached by the suspect, who said,
'Give me the rose,' DeCarlo said. "The kid told him, 'Go in there and get one.'
But the suspect says, 'I want that one, and your money, too,' and pulls out a
knife. All the kid has is a 10, and the perp says, 'I only want $4.' He tells
the kid to go into the pizza parlor and get change. Then the kid comes out, he
takes his $4 and he leaves.''

Mitchell was apprehended by police a few blocks away.

When I was a kid, I totally earned $5 by singing "Leavin' on a Jet Plane" on a corner at the Third Street Promenade (I *really* wanted to see Terminator 2 and my mom said if I wanted to see it that night I'd have to earn the money myself. She, incidentally, still didn't let me see it that night.) Anyway, the dude totally shoulda just done that.

A new kind of trail mix

I was just cleaning out my car and found way too many In N Out french fries given that I haven't lived in a state with In N Out since February 2006.

Mixed in there, I also found very old versions of the following: Skittles, Pringles, cat food kibbles, nacho cheese Doritos and a Craisin. Any takers?

Clothing optional (again)

My regular readers (reader?) might remember a post from a while back about Brattleboro, Vt., a town that previously allowed all public nudity. After an old man from Arizona visited the town's monthly art fair specifically so he could stroll naked down Main Street, the town Selectboard passed an emergency ordinance banning nudity in certain areas (other areas of town continued to allow it).

Now, in what may be my first blog follow-up ever (and note that I'm similarly forgetful and unmotivated when it comes to my actual job), I am posting to let you know that the temporary ban on nudity will expire next month and the Selectboard has voted not to make it permanent.

One board member proposed an amendment to strike the words "breast" and buttocks" from the language of the ordinance, thus paring down the ban solely to "genitals," but the ordinance with the amendment was defeated 3-2.

So if anyone wants to walk around naked in public...

Brattleboro Reformer story here.

Welcome Home Hessy Day

I would like to officially extend my congratulations to myself on getting my car back.

For those of you who don't know, Hessy Honda spent three weeks in the Highland Park impound lot after an overzealous, bored, and under-his-monthly-quota Highland Park cop pulled me over for expired California registration. I was quite polite to him (until I wasn't anymore), but he decided to give me a ticket and tow my car to the impound lot (he also called for backup because I was being mean to him).

This was on a Saturday, so initially I was angry because I wouldn't be able to get my car back until the DMV opened on Monday. This was because I needed to renew my registration to get my car back, and I couldn't renew it online in California because it needed a smog check.

So I got to the DMV the following Monday and after waiting in various lines and giving various people various forms of identification, a lady told me that I couldn't get my NJ registration until I got an NJ license and I couldn't get an NJ license until I got a clearance letter from Connecticut.

Yes, the speeding ticket I got in Connecticut three years ago and was waiting to pay until at least three years passed to avoid getting points on my insurance officially came back to bite me in the ass.

Now.

Me: How do I get a clearance letter from Connecticut?
Lady: Call Connecticut.
Me: What's the number for Connecticut?
Lady: It's on the slip of paper I handed you.
Me: *looks down at slip of paper* The only thing on this paper is my name.
Lady: So find the number yourself.
Me: How do I do that? Can't you just tell me the number?
Lady: 4-1-1
Me: *possibly not in the most polite tone* I'm supposed to call 4-1-1 and ask for the number for Connecticut?
Lady: Yes.

So I went home and looked up the number for the Connecticut DMV, which put me on hold for half an hour before transferring me to the clearance letter department, which put me on hold for half an hour before a woman picked up. She told me to call the courthouse that dealt with my ticket, that they would forward my info along the the DMV and that the DMV would send me a clearance letter. Is there any way to expedite the process? I asked. No.

So I called the courthouse, and the lady there told me I owed them about $350 to reopen my case and to pay my ticket. I took out my credit card.
Lady: We don't take credit card payments. You need to send a money order.
Me: What about debit cards? Can you approve that over the phone?
Lady: No.
Me: Checking account and routing number?
Lady: No.
Me: OK, so I'll send my payment and then you'll forward along the info to the DMV?
Lady: No.
Me: So how do I get the clearance letter?
Lady: You need to send the receipt we send you to the DMV. Along with a special clearance letter request form. And $125.
Me: Oh. Is there any way to expedite this?
Lady: No.

So I did everything as instructed, using priority mail in all instances and convincing myself that that was almost as good as expediting it, and the clearance letter finally came Friday. I spent Monday at the DMV, the car rental place (I've been driving a PT Cruiser), the impound lot, the inspection station and the cars of two different co-workers who were nice enough to give me rides where necessary.

In the end, after the car rental ($1,600), the impound fees ($565, in cash), car repairs and inspection certificate ($1,100), Connecticut ticket fees and clearance letter, and New Jersey registration, title and license fees, I'm about $3,000 in the whole.

But at least I'm no longer driving a PT Cruiser.

And if anyone wants to give me a million dollars for my upcoming birthday... well, e-mail me and I'll tell you where to send the check.

Becky's first (right?) published reviews

So Becky reviewed her first two plays for offoffonline.com at the Fringe Festival over the weekend. For those of you who know as little about this as I do, said Web site is "Your comprehensive resource for New York City off-off-Broadway theatre listings and reviews" -- at least, according to said Web site. In any case, she's pretty good at this writing thing...
Death and Dreams review
http://www.offoffonline.com/reviews.php?id=1104
Greek Tragedy as Performance Art review
http://www.offoffonline.com/reviews.php?id=1107

Only because I've been a lazy-ass blogger lately...

If you're still checking this thing with the hope that I'll get off my lazy ass and start updating it again (with something more than a minimally funny Denis Leary quote), I'll humor you. Or more specifically, direct you to a place where you can be bored to tears by a story that took up all my time last week. I think it's an important story, but I didn't exactly do a good job of keeping it entertaining...

Ex-convicts face uphill battle for jobs
and the even-less-interesting-to-read sidebar (which I'm just realizing has a mistake... maybe you'll read it and play the find-the-mistake game. I hear it's quite fun.)

Also, in during my stretch of laziness-related lack of blogging, I never officially and publicly congratulated Brian on his engagement. So here it is. I would like to publicly extend my congratulations to Brian on his recent engagement to Amy. Here's to a wedding with an open bar. *clinks champagne glasses*

Done and done.

OK. That's all I've got for you. Maybe I'll post more next week. Or maybe not. I'm quite boring, it seems.

Quote of the day

"You have to be nice to your Jewish friends because they might be your prostate doctor someday." -Denis Leary on the Daily Show yesterday

Why does this brain stem say "No. 2" on it?

Remember that episode of the Simpsons in which doctors discover that Homer has had a crayon embedded inside his brain since he lodged it there while sticking a box of crayons up his nose as a child? Yeah... not exactly the same thing, but...

Woman has pencil removed from head

Women out-earning men

A study by a Queens College demographer found that twenty-something women in some big cities are making more money than twenty-something men. The report shows that women of all educational levels ages 21 to 30 living in New York City and working full time made 117 percent of men’s wages. In Dallas that figure is 120 percent. Women in their 20s are making more than men in Boston, Los Angeles, Chicago and Minneapolis, too.

Experts in the New York Times story (linked above) speculate that since more women are graduating from college than ever before, they're moving to big cities rather than staying in smaller towns, and thus drive up the number of female college grads in the bigger cities, thus driving up the salaries.

Nationally, women still lag, with women in their 20s making a median income of $25,467, compared with $28,523 for men.

They also lag in older age brackets.

I think the salaries will even out and eventually drop below men's averages as the women reach their 30s and 40s and start families, because other studies have shown that most women prefer to either not work at all or work part-time in the early years of their kids lives. So I don't see this as a giant trend in women's progress in this country. But it's still kind of interesting... read the story for more.

I'm sticking with the idiots on this one...

A ballot question in New Jersey's November election will ask voters if they want to reword the part of the state Constitution that says an "idiot or insane person'' cannot vote, and replace it with a "person who has been adjudicated by a court of competent jurisdiction to lack the capacity to understand the act of voting.''

Reminds me of the Chinglish rules and regulations posted alongside the Mandarin rules inside taxis in Shanghai, mandating that "psychos", "psychopaths", or "schizophrenics" may not ride taxis without supervision. (Actually, each taxi used only one of the three options... I spent my time there looking for one that said "crazypants" or something equally amusing)

The joys of Highland Park

So with everything else I've had going on over the last couple of months, I let the California registration lapse on my car. Interestingly enough, I actually had every intention of obtaining a Jersey registration -- and driver's license -- on Monday.

Of course, Highland Park cops sometimes get bored of sticking their thumbs up their asses and one of them had another idea.

I was on my way to my assignment this morning when I got pulled over about a quarter mile from the bridge to New Brunswick. I actually wasn't speeding for once.

The cop took his sweet time before asking for my license, registration, proof of insurance -- your standard crap. He asked if I knew my registration was expired. I was very polite, apologized profusely and reassured him that I would renew it on Monday. He asked where I was going. I told him I was on my way to an assignment in New Brunswick. He said I'm not allowed to drive a car with an expired registration. I reassured him againt hat I had every intention of renewing it on Monday. He said he couldn't let me drive without the registration. I told him the truth about why I'd been so busy for the last two months and didn't get the registration renewed. He either didn't believe me or didn't give a shit. He reminded me it's illegal to drive with an expired registration.

I promised I would get it renewed first thing Monday. He said that was too late. I said there were no other options.

Apparently, there were.

Despite my stomach-curdling politeness through the whole ordeal, Douchebag Cop had my car towed to an impound lot. The impound lot, of course, is closed Sundays, which means they can charge me up the ass when I go to pick it up on Monday.

Douchebag Cop also, incidentally, called Douchebag Sergeant somewhere along the line for backup, because he felt I was being disagreeable. Well. No. Shit.

And this little piggy went ALLLLLL the way to the state Supreme Court

An oral surgeon in Washington state was just awarded $750,000 from his insurance company by the state's highest court after the insurance company refused to cover a lawsuit filed against him when he implanted temporary tusks in the mouth of his assistant whose family raises potbellied pigs. Here's the back-story:

The oral surgeon, Dr. Robert Woo, implanted two tusks in his assistant's mouth while she was under anesthesia to replace two of her teeth with implants. He snapped photos of her with the tusks -- some with her eyes propped open -- and then removed the tusks and finished the procedure normally. When she woke up, everything was normal, but eventually the photos made their way around the office and back to her. She quit. And sued.

The insurance company refused to cover the lawsuit, saying that practical jokes aren't covered by his plan. Dr. Woo settled out of court and paid the woman $250,000.

Then he sued the insurance company.

A county superior court jury ordered the insurance company to pay Woo $750,000 plus the out-of-court settlement.

The insurance company appealed. The state Court of Appeals sided with the insurance company, agreeing that the prank had nothing to do with Woo's dentistry.

Woo appealed. And on Thursday, the state Supreme Court ruled in favor of Woo. In a 5-4 decision, the court ruled that that "Woo's practical joke was an integral, if odd, part of the assistant's dental surgery and 'conceivably'' should trigger the professional liability coverage of his policy," according to the AP.

The death cat

A cat living in a Providence hospice can apparently predict death.

From the AP: The 2-year-old feline was adopted as a kitten and grew up in a third-floor dementia unit at the Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center. The facility treats people with Alzheimer's, Parkinson's disease and other illnesses.

After about six months, the staff noticed Oscar would make his own rounds, just like the doctors and nurses. He'd sniff and observe patients, then sit beside people who would wind up dying in a few hours. Full story here.

Shea cats

Shea Stadium houses a feral cat colony with 20 to 40 cats, according to a cat rescue group founder quoted in the New York Times. Here's the story.

Photo from the AP via the New York Times.

Bust out your balls and find a blower

For the record, the machine that tumbles bingo balls around is called a blower. And I really wanted my lead for this story to be, "The balls are back in the blowers and bingo is back in Edison." Unfortunately, I don't write for the New York Post.

Edison seniors again yell "Bingo"

Because everyone loves a naked old guy

An old man strolling down the street in nothing but sandals and a fanny pack spurred an emergency ordinance banning nudity in certain public places in Brattleboro, Vermont.

The Brattleboro Selectboard voted 3-2 Tuesday night to pass an ordinance "prohibiting people from going about in the nude," according to Reuters. Anyone caught violating the ordinance faces a $100 fine.

The ordinance applies only to certain main corridors, and doesn't include breastfeeding mothers.

"I'm not looking for a townwide ban in every nook and cranny," one Selectboard member was quoted as saying in the Brattleboro Reformer. "We thought we would start in a smaller region. This is the primary area of concern."

The genesis of the naked trend came during a hot spell last summer, when "a couple of dozen teens took to holding hula hoop contests, riding bikes and parading past stores wearing only their birthday suits," according to Reuters. Town officials assumed the nudity would dwindle with the temperatures, but it returned with a vengeance this summer. Officials decided to take emergency action after a senior citizen from Arizona visited Brattleboro specifically to stroll naked through Gallery Walk, the town's monthly art exhibit along Main Street.

At Tuesday's Selectboard meeting, one woman spoke against to the ordinance. Her son had been arrested for lewd and lasciviious behavior when he was caught dancing naked in a puddle: "He is a kind-hearted young man," she was quoted as saying in the Brattleboro Reformer. "He just wanted to express himself as a human being."

Brattleboro Reformer story here. Reuters story here.

All the polite people...

I'm wearing a new shirt today, and I just realized that I've been walking around all day with an "XS" sticker smack in the middle of my left boob.

That is all.

Rupert Murdoch and full disclosure...

Those of you who read Jack Shafer have probably already seen this, but just in case...

In his take on how the Wall Street Journal would respond if News Corp. got control, he talks about the already-unusually-long disclosures the Journal runs in any story that mentions an organization associated with Dow Jones. According the the WSJ stylebook, the writers have to explain the extent of any such business relationship. So then, what would happen if News Corp., which owns half the world, also acquired Dow Jones? What disclosure would have to be tacked on to the end of every story?

Shafer writes:

News Corp. publishes the Wall Street Journal and its international and
online editions, Barron's, the Far Eastern Economic Review, MarketWatch, Dow
Jones Indexes, and the Ottaway group of community newspapers. News Corp. owns
Factiva and co-owns SmartMoney with Hearst Corp. News Corp. owns 20th Century
Fox, Fox Searchlight, Fox Broadcasting Company, MyNetworkTV, Fox Sports
Australia, television stations of the Fox Broadcasting Group, as well as
stations in Eastern Europe and other cable channels around the world. News Corp.
owns or has large holdings in the satellite broadcasters DirecTV, STAR, BSkyB,
Foxtel, and Sky Italia. News Corp. owns or has large holdings in a dozen cable
channels, including Fox News Channel, FX, Speed, Fox Reality, Fox Sports Net,
Fox Movie Channel, Fuel TV, and the National Geographic Channel. News Corp. owns
two dozen newspapers around the world. News Corp. owns or has large holdings in
the Weekly Standard, Gemstar-TV Guide International, and many magazines. News
Corp. owns MySpace, FoxSports.com, and many other Web sites. News Corp. owns
HarperCollins Publishers, Zondervan books, MySpace Records, and News Outdoor
Group (billboards). News Corp. has a large holding in the National Rugby League.
News Corp. also owns businesses too obscure to describe here, such as
Broadsystem ("Closer contact. Great insight."), Milkround, and NDS.

Why can't *my* sources be this concise?

Jeremy Roenick announced his retirement by texting a Philadelphia Inquirer reporter, "I'm retiring; is that still news?"

Roenick, a center, was most recently with Phoenix; before that he spent three seasons with the Flyers, and has also played on the Blackhawks and Kings. If you're interested, the full story's here.

Now, I know most of you pnineple don't follow hockey at all -- I clearly don't either... Roenick announced his retirement 10 days ago. But I still think every other source should take this as a lesson that texting is much better than calling a reporter and yapping for an hour about various aspects of life.

That is all.

In case you were wondering if I could get any cooler...

Gizmo's "Catster" page: http://www.catster.com/cats/581780
A.M.P.M.S.'s "Catster" page: http://www.catster.com/cats/581793

At the time of this post, they have 16 friends each, but I'm hoping their many pending requests will be accepted, as they're much more creative than other cats "I think we'd make purrrrr-fect friends!" messages.

Oh, and in case you're wondering... You're right -- Giz *doesn't* write that well. A.M. wrote his profile so potential friends wouldn't think he was a tard-cat.

Signs of the Times (and more)

From an AP story on how many newspaper editorial pages have taken the leap from just criticizing the war to calling for an immediate pullout:

On the Times Web site Monday, Sunday's editorial was only the fifth
most e-mailed article, topped by an article about hip librarians and one on wine
tastings. By Tuesday afternoon, it was knocked out of the Top Ten; two of the
Times' 10 most e-mailed articles were about fictional wizard Harry Potter.

And speaking of Iraq, Everyone's Friend Cindy Sheehan has announced that she plans to run as an independent against Nancy Pelosi in 2008 if Pelosi doesn't move to impeach the president. This comes less than two months after Sheehan announced she was ending her role in the antiwar movement and cutting ties with the Democratic Party.

Now. I'm sorry her son died, but why don't these people realize there are effective ways to accomplish things, and then there's flat-out stupidity... Why do they always choose the stupidity?

In completely unrelated news, Merriam-Webster will add "ginormous" to its latest collegiate dictionary, coming out this fall. There are people who are *very* angry about this decision: More pilfering from the AP:

One of those naysayers is Allan Metcalf, a professor of English at
MacMurray College in Jacksonville, Ill., and the executive secretary of the
American Dialect Society./p ""A new word that stands out and is
ostentatious is going to sink like a lead balloon,'' he said. ""It might enjoy a
fringe existence.''

I mean, seriously. Those dudes at Merriam-Webster are being ginormous douchebags. Someone oughta put the smackdown (also being added in 2007) on them.

Remember "Operation," where you had to use those electrified tweezers to pull the bucket out of the knee?

As I'm sure most of you don't know, I've been having a lot of trouble with my left knee for almost two weeks now. I'm pretty sure I sustained some sort of injury, but I have no memory of anything happening.

So when I woke up one morning with my knee swollen to twice its normal size and lots of hurtiness, I figured I'd give it some time to get better on its own. When it didn't, I went to an urgent care facility on July 4. The "doctor" there told me I had "inflammation of the knee." Then he proceeded to try to prove to me that I had inflammation of the knee. He held my hand against my inflamed knee and said, "See? You can feel how it's inflamed, right? That means you have inflammation of the knee." I asked him what this meant. He told me it meant my knee was swollen. I rephrased and asked him what was causing the inflammation. He told me it was a big mystery, gave me an anti-inflammatory and sent me on my way.

Five days of anti-inflammatories later, nothing was getting any better. So I went to my regular doctor today, who told me the urgent care guy was full of shit.

Apparently, I'm full of something else.

My regular doctor sent me to an orthopedist, who stuck a giant needle in the side of my knee and drained out 60cc of pee-looking fluid.

So the urgent care doctor may be full of poop, but me -- I'm full of piddle.

Tiger-petting, here I come!

I have officially booked a trip to Thailand for Sept. 12 through 24.

There's gonna be, like, so much tiger-petting, it'll be craaaaazy. Oh, and I'm open to any suggestions for non-tiger-related activities as well.

Huzzah!

I shit you not.

A 6-year-old Minneapolis girl had part of her small intestine sucked out of her asshole by the suction in a wading pool drain.

The girl was sitting on the drain of the wading pool when the drain's suction caused a 2-inch tear in her rectum and "pulled out much of her small intestine," according to the Associated Press.

She'll spend the rest of her life being fed through a port, which will be implanted tomorrow.

Full story here.

Sorry, grandmas

I know I could have done so much more with this, but you people will still appreciate the premise:
Edison seniors want bingo back

Freefalling

John McCain is expected to cut as many as 80 to 100 campaign staffers in the aftermath of an abysmal second-quarter fundraising effort, according to the Associated Press.

McCain raised just $11.2 million in the past three months, and has just $2 million cash on hand. Other candidates haven't released their numbers yet, but McCain will be eons behind Mitt Romney and Rudolph Giuliani. And in terms of polls, he's already trailing Fred Thompson in some of them -- and Thompson hasn't even made his candidacy official.

So none of this is a surprise given the low approval ratings for the war and the obvious backlash that goes along with the immigration bill, but it does beg the question -- With the flip-flopping Mormon from Massachusetts and the pro-abortion, anti-free-speech New Yorker having no real shot at the GOP nomination, will the Republican presidential candidate come from Law and Order?

There may be a real chance...

Where are your pants?

The Baltimore Police Department has run out of pants.

Officials have placed an emergency order for the department's most popular sizes, 36 and 38, and are waiting on the shipment. New officers receive four pairs of the standard-issue navy pants each upon being hired and other officers may trade in their old pants for new ones at any time.

"We are officially out,'' Officer Troy Harris, a police spokesman, told the Associated Press. "We're putting in an emergency order for those two sizes.''

Until the emergency order goes through, each new officer who is a size 36 or 38 will have no pants. Having recently hired 240 new police officers, well, that's a lot of pantsless police.

Why I'm in love with Linda Greenhouse...

In her Supreme Court Memo in yesterday's Times, she was talking about how often the Roberts court might overturn precedents, and she referred back to Arlen Specter's line of questioning in Roberts' confirmation hearings. Specter had asked Roberts if he agreed that Roe v. Wade was more than just a precedent, but a "super-duper precedent," because it had been revisited and reaffirmed in 1992. Then:

The nominee obviously knew exactly what Mr. Specter was driving at, but he gave
away nothing. He acknowledged the historical accuracy of the senator’s
chronology, but would not follow him to the land of “super-duper” precedents.

And this is why I'm in love with Linda Greenhouse.

(Incidentally, the lede was pretty awesome too: No Supreme Court nominee could be confirmed these days without paying homage to the judicial doctrine of “stare decisis,” Latin for “to stand by things decided.” Yet experienced listeners have learned to take these professions of devotion to precedent “cum grano salis,” Latin for “with a grain of salt.”)

Full story here.

I'm sorry, you're just not good enough for our poop.

I just essentially got rejected for a volunteer gig called "Kitten cage cleaner" with a cat rescue group.

Step aside, Tony Snow

I was just on the phone with the spokesman for, let's say XYZ Co. I was trying to find out some information about a project that began about a year ago but is making its way into a town in our coverage area next week. My conversation went something like this:

I asked a general question about the project. He said XYZ Co. had a press conference a year and a half ago and if I wanted this information I should have come to the press conference. I said that I wasn't here a year and a half ago, and it would have thus been very unlikely for me to attend his press conference.

He said someone at our newspaper should have attended it. I said I understood his concerns but this story has been assigned to me and I can't find any information in our archives about this project. Could he please just give me some information?

He said he had a plane to catch soon.

I asked if there was someone else who might be able to provide some information, or if I could find it online. He said he was the only one who was allowed to provide information.

Then he proceeded to lecture me about how there's no point in holding press conferences if we're just going to call him and ask him questions. I eventually stopped him and said maybe instead of spending his obviously valuable time arguing with me he could answer one or two of my questions. This didn't sound like fun to him. He answered everything with, "I don't have that information at my fingertips."

Eventually, something I said must have registered. As I was writing this post he called back with the information.

But seriously... I've never had this much trouble getting standard information about something not police-related.

I really think Tony Snow has met his match.

Maybe if I were lumpier...

While I was picking up prescriptions at Rite Aid yesterday I saw a woman carefully looking through all the options in the condom aisle. Picking up each box, comparing written descriptions, turning the boxes over in her hand to inspect every side. Considering colors, flavors, textures -- everything.

She was in her mid-forties or early fifties, was very lumpy and had short, frizzy, awkwardly-dyed-reddish-brown hair. She was wearing black tapered sweatpants that were somehow tight from ass all the way down to ankle (maybe *she* was also tapered) and the lumps of cellulite seemed to be trying mightily to come out for air. She was also wearing a bright red T-shirt.

Last month, I think, I would have been happy for her.

But all I could think was -- seriously? *She's* getting sex and I'm not?

Yeah...

Zippity doo da

There's nothing like writing a story about euthanizing kittens to make a shitty day That Much Worse.

I see London, I see France...

Anyone caught "sagging" their pants in Delcambre, Lousiana, is likely to face a $500 fine and/or six months in jail.

The town council there passed an ordinance that will go into effect once the mayor signs it (and she has confirmed that she plans to sign it). The ordinance reads:

“It shall be unlawful for any person in any public place or in view of the
public to be found in a state of nudity, or partial nudity, or in dress not
becoming to his or her sex, or in any indecent exposure of his or her person or
undergarments, or be guilty of any indecent or lewd behavior.”

Essentially, the ordinance is saying that showing body parts in public shall be illegal, and the underpants count as a body part.

In addition to the possibility of being arrested by an officer who gets a peek at your peeper, you can also be arrested if a resident files a complaint against you and signs a sworn affadavit confirming that he/she witnessed the offense.

So. Much. Fun.

And if you're interested in the full story, here it is at the Daily Iberian, apparently the town's "official journal."
http://iberianet.com/articles/2007/06/13/news/news/news56.txt

"The Gamete Games"

In trying to find a new angle on Father's Day, the New York Times decided to do a story on sperm. How they're produced, what they look like, how they work. Just a straight-up, detailed account of the inner workings of the male reproductive system.

It starts like this:

We are fast approaching Father’s Day, the festive occasion on which we plague
Dad with yet another necktie or collect phone call and just generally strive to
remind the big guy of the central verity of paternity — that it’s a lot more fun
to become a father than to be one. “I won’t lie to you,” said the great Homer
Simpson. “Fatherhood isn’t easy like motherhood.” Yet in our insistence that men
are more than elaborately engineered gamete vectors, we neglect the marvels of
their elaborately engineered gametes. As the scientists who study male germ
cells will readily attest, sperm are some of the most extraordinary cells of the
body, a triumph of efficient packaging, sleek design and superspecialization.
Human sperm are extremely compact, and they’ve been stripped of a normal cell’s
protein-making machinery; but when cast into the forbidding environment of the
female reproductive tract, they will learn on the job and change their search
strategies and swim strokes as needed.

Sperm are also fast and as cute as tadpoles. They have chubby teardrop heads and stylish, tapering tails, and they glide, slither, bumble and do figure-eights. So while a father may not be entitled to take the same pride in his sperm as he does in his kids, it’s fair to celebrate the single-minded cellular commas that helped give those children their start.

And then proceeds to turn into a science textbook. Not judging the writer here... I would have no idea how to write an article about sperm with no news hook beyond Father's Day. But... well... sperm.

The missing toilet paper was being hidden by Butts the whole time!

A woman whose last name is Butts faces up to three years in prison for stealing toilet paper from an Iowa courthouse.

Suzanne Marie Butts, 38, was caught taking three rolls of two-ply toilet paper from the storage closet at the courthouse. The discovery came after workers had noticed the toilet paper was disappearing more quickly than usual.

Butts, who is not a courthouse employee, acknowledged taking the three rolls but insisted it was her first time.

The fifth-degree theft charge, a misdemeanor, normally carries a sentence of less than a year in jail. But Butts could face more time if convicted under the state's habitual offender law because she has prior theft convictions, according to the Associated Press.

Because transforming the Democratic Party is like a baseball game

So I was Googling myself and saw that someone blogged about a story I wrote about the Edison primary, which has been running the last two months of my life. The only part of the blog entry that showed up in the Google summary was "In the middle of Erica Harbatkin's coverage of the Edison election results..." and I was intrigued to find out what that was. Turns out:

The entry, from a blog called "Laughing at the Pieces :

Choi at the Bat

I’m sure they’ll fix this on the main site, so I’m pasting a bit of it here for posterity. In the middle of Erica Harbatkin's coverage of the Edison election results in the Home News Tribune (mayor Jun Choi’s handpicked slate of newcomers won), something strange happens. Take a look:

EDISON — Mayor Jun Choi's slate of candidates won the Democratic council primary on Tuesday, giving the mayor control of the township's divided Democratic party.

Choi's Edison Democratic Party slate, which was full of political newcomers handpicked by the mayor, beat out the incumbents on the council and a third ticket headed by former Councilman Bill Stephens for the Democratic Party line in the November General Election.

The winning slate is composed of Washington Elementary School Principal AnnMarie Griffin-Ussak; former Edison boys baseball coach Wayne Mascola; Edison Township Education Foundation founder and President Melissa Perilstein; and Sudhanshu Prasad, an internal-medicine specialist and former chairman of JFK Medical Center's Department of Medicine.

Official numbers were not available Tuesday night because District 26 had a zero tally sheet, but results without those numbers had Griffin-Ussak with 3,607 votes, Perilstein with 3,486, Prasad with 3,500 and Mascola with 3,389.

"We started this movement two years ago and onto the diamond for the top of the sixth. But Randolph, which was down to its final strike in the sectional semifinal on May 29 and came-from-behind to win the sectional final, turned four hits, including a triple and two doubles, two walks and an Edison error into six runs.

HUH?

I follow American politics, so I’m no stranger to the labored sports metaphor. But it’s usually not this long. Sure, there’s a baseball coach among the winners, but Jack Kemp didn’t talk about football this much.

Let’s continue, shall we?

Senior catcher Rob Kral, who homered four times in Friday's sectional final, hit a grand slam in the top of the seventh for Randolph (23-7) to conclude the scoring. Winning pitcher Steve Zavala (13-1) homered in the first at bat of the game and went 3-for-4 with four runs and three RBIs to help fuel the Morris County school's 14-hit attack…

And it goes on for three more paragraphs, before resuming the election coverage.

Um… go Eagles? And congratulations, councilmen-elect?

I’d prefer a few more checks and balances in my soup, but I have hope that Mayor Choi and his handpicked team of councilmen govern responsibly, and don’t run on a pop fly unless there are already two outs.

Rob

Yup. That's my paper.

The Prez

(the man, not the cat)

I covered an event with President Bush in Edison yesterday, and was officially a member of the White House press pool... for a grand total of about three hours.

For two of those hours, I was roped inside the little press area, where we weren't allowed to move from while we awaited the president's arrival. I read a book. I spent about half an hour making my way around after the speech talking to people who paid $300 to $5,000 to see the president speak. And exactly 27 minutes of that time was spent watching the president speak, trying to see over the Very Tall People who paid $300 to $5,000 to be there.

When I arrived at the Expo Center, I received the following credential, on which the man wrote down the wrong name, crossed it out and then made an attempt at writing my actual name. So it looked kinda like I found a press pass and colored it in myself.



Yup. I'm that important.

Oh, and I wrote this crappy story while I was there.

And they say camels rarely get dehydrated...

I visited Nicole in Rhode Island last weekend, and we went to the Roger Williams Zoo. This is what we saw:

We were looking at a couple of camels, who were standing there being camels, when I determined that the camel on the right looked a little like one of my ex-boyfriends. Just as I vocalized that observation, the camel on the left started to pee. Well the stream came for a long time, and eventually Ex-boyfriend Camel saunteredto the back end of his friend and started licking the pee out of the air.

Nicole and I stared in awe for some time before we started laughing. Then it was over. Ex-boyfriend Camel walked back to the other side of his friend and stood where he'd been before. But Friend Camel's pee continued to flow, and Ex-boyfriend Camel decided to go back for more. So he returned to the back end of Friend Camel and licked some more pee from the falling stream.

Then Ex-boyfriend Camel took a few steps backwards and tilted his head all the way up, so his face was in the air and he appeared to be gargling the urine.

Now Nicole and I were more entertained than ever, and as we laughed I heard the words, "Ya like that?" from someone standing to my left. I looked over, and there stood a little man with eyeliner who apparently wanted me to lick his pee. I grabbed Nicole and said it was time to go.

And that was our day at the zoo.

Oh, and llamas poop in a neat trajectory, allowing them to stand upright and excrete without getting any poo on themselves.

Because being questioned by Congress is like a flower on a warm, wonderful summer day

Monica Goodling's Web site from college (click around... it's good stuff)
http://web.archive.org/web/19991008153443/home.regent.edu/monigoo/

Some of my favorite snippets:
Send me an e-mail if you want... I love to get mail.
And smile, the world can be a good place or a bad place, depending on which way you look at it. But it's a lot better when you're smiling.

Cassiopeia, my darling puppy, is only happy when she is chewing on someone's shoes. She's not picky, one doesn't even have to take off his or her shoe!

Friends are those things which make a day pass from mere existence to life itself. Their laughter, smiles, and love make all the difference.

Thanks for visiting, and have a wonderful, wonderful day.

Frisky young Jews...

I was running around my neighborhood this evening, a neighborhood filled with Orthodox Jews and some Orthodox Jews. It's the first place I've lived where I've actually felt comfortable running in after dark (although today it was still light out). Anyway I usually wear baggy running shorts, but tonight I was wearing a cotton tank top and spandex shorts. Three different little boys tried to talk to me.

It wasn't like the icky cat calls I've gotten in the past, but very polite greetings. In all cases, their ages couldn't have been into the double-digits.

The first was a little boy on a bike saying hi. The second a boy playing with his friends, who stopped what he was doing and very nicely said, "Nice shorts." The third, a boy running around with his friends who ran toward me for a few seconds and kept saying, "hey."

It was all very strange.

In other news, I've decided to go to Thailand this summer. Hooray tigers!

Lord of the Flies, anyone?

CBS unveiled its fall lineup today, featuring a new reality show called "Kid Nation," in which 40 kids (ages 8 to 15) live for 40 days in a New Mexico ghost town. They'll try to set up their own 19th-century society (complete with outhouses, a saloon, etc.), creating businesses and government without adult supervision.

My question is what parents will sign their kids up for this? You'll have the Hollywood-wannabes who hope this catapults their kids to stardom... who else?

No one can be voted off, but CBS never said murder and heads on stakes weren't involved.

Alien balls

From a wizarduniverse.com interview with Futurama co-creator David X. Cohen on the upcoming new episodes:

Q: Are there any new characters being introduced in the new season that you’re excited about?
COHEN: Yes, particularly Nudar, the evil alien nudist. We’re not sure what the censorship issues are as far as showing unrecognizable alien reproductive organs. I guess we’ll just put it on the air and see what happens.

Fiver!

If you could just tell me the make and model of your maternal grandfather's first car...

So I understand the need for security questions, etc., but...

I called to activate a new credit card I received in the mail after the old one expired, and they apparently had my old phone number, so the automated system transferred me to a live person since I wasn't calling from my "home number." Fine.

So I talk to the first "live person," who punches a bunch of things in the computer and then says he can't help me and I need to talk to a new live person.

So he puts me on hold for a few minutes and then tells me I'm on the phone with "Inez," my new live person. Who proceeds to politely interrogate the hell out of me.

What's your name?
What's your mother's maiden name?
...... I'm OK with these, but she continues...

In what state was your social security number issued?
.... Fine....

You may have gone to a college a few years back. Do you know what college it was?

Ummm.... UNCW? I mean, UNC-Wilmington? Or do you have Emerson College down there? In fact, I may have registered at Santa Monica College one summer thinking I was going to take classes but then didn't. Is that the one you have?

Through this whole thing, Inez has apologizing for the inconvenience and saying, "One moment," very politely, over and over again. In response to this answer, she sighs, says "Nevermind" and proceeds with "One moment."

You say you used this 1959 Cloverfield as a "permanent address?" Can you tell me the name of one of your neighbors?

You want me to name one of my neighbors?

Well you did say you lived there a while.

Yeah, that doesn't mean I can name neighbors. I can name people in Santa Monica. Do you want me to start naming people in Santa Monica?

Why would I want you to name people in Santa Monica? I need you to name neighbors. You said you lived there a while. You should be able to name neighbors.

I don't talk to people. Certainly not neighbor people. I'm antisocial. My brother, Daniel, lives at that address. Can he count as a neighbor?

*Sighs* One moment. *clicketly clack of the keyboard* Do you know this "Daniel's" year of birth?

1980.

Somehow, that did it.

But seriously? I understand the need for security, but a social security number, mother's maiden name and question about the name of my first pet really should do the trick. And what else do they know about me and all of my "neighbors" in Santa Monica?

What were you doing when you were 14?

In Dallas, kids are getting hooked on a mixture of Tylenol P.M. and heroin called "cheese," according to an AP story. The AP reported that it's been linked to 19 teenager deaths in Dallas, and the average age of those arrested for possession is 14.

Seriously? At 14, I was watching Animaniacs and going to parties at my friends' swimming pools.

In other news, I'd like to congratulate Eric and Brian on their new kitten, Stache. Go to Eric's comment on my MySpace page for a picture. And know that he has promised more pictures as well.

So that's all I've got. My life is boring...

Cat piddle and dead mice

So I decided to try this remove-frizz-for-a-whole-month hair product which promised on the box to, that's right, remove frizz for a whole month. It didn't work. What it did do, however, was make my hair smell like a dirty litter box. Hooray!

In other news, this amused me (in a sorry-this-lady-died sort of way)
JANESVILLE, Wis. (AP) — A couple checking out a house for sale were shocked to discover the 55-year-old homeowner dead in her bed. Authorities said foul play was not suspected.

Real estate agent Linda Chabucos-Galow stood in the dining room while Justin and Colleen McKeen walked through a house Monday night. Before long, she heard Colleen McKeen scream.

"I thought, 'What's wrong?' Maybe it was a dead mouse or something,'' Chabucos-Galow said.

But then she peered into the bedroom and saw the body of Linda L. O'Leary.

...

Hillary Clinton speech

So in the process of neglecting my blog, I totally forgot to brag:
http://www.thnt.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=2007704210409

Incidentally the bragging's *so* not about the crappily written story - just the getting to see Hillary Clinton part.

The quote I couldn't seem to work in there dealt with her hair and clothes, and how the media analyzes the hell out of everything she wears. But I'm not sure where my notebook is where I wrote down the quote, so this makes for quite a pointless story.

In other news, my hand has been all tingly for the last week or so. Any ideas on how to fix it?

Cat-petting morning

I started my day today as everyone should -- petting cats. Two municipalities are entering into a shared service agreement with their animal control services, cutting costs and therefore property taxes, etc., etc., etc., and I was able to use the opportunity to pet cats.

There was one awesome one, a white and brownish-grey stray that came in two days ago and I'm sure will get adopted very quickly. He/she (I dunno because you can't hold them until the eight days passes) rubbed up against the bars of its cage all sexy-like and even batted his/her little paw at me when I wasn't providing enough love.

Of course, for every good story...

Another cat there, a long-haired grey adult cat had been dropped off by her owners. Apparently they didn't want to take care of her anymore, for whatever reason. She was laying quietly up against the side wall, looking out the front of the cage. She was very skeptical of visitors, and I don't blame her, given that her family just deserted her. The shelter guy assured me that they'd find a home for her (and judging by the empty cages around the room, she's probably OK for now), but the fact that people don't take responsibility for their pets is sickening. Can you imagine just pawning a life off on a government service? Just walking away and figuring that that life isn't your responsibility anymore?

I just don't understand how a person can do that...

Google-maps me

This stolen from Nipole's MySpace bulletin:
Google-map directions from New York, New York to Paris, France.
Read through them... or at least to Line 23.

Not that Jersey isn't all it's cracked up to be, but...

People I know/knew all seem to be traveling and asking me for advice, and now I'm insanely jealous of all people I know/knew. Who wants to give me large sums of money and large amounts of time off from work? Anyone? You can come with me...

Tiger-petting

A kid I knew in high school went to Thailand, and visited a Buddhist temple where you can pet tigers. The monks at the Tiger Temple saved these tigers from poachers, and brought them up on this reserve at the temple.

During the day they let the tigers out, and people can walk right up to the tigers, with just a rope separating them. The monks and volunteers at the temple then let one visitor through the rope at a time to pet the tigers and take pictures.

There has been some controversy about why the tigers are so calm -- some people believe they must be drugged. But the monks maintain that they're calm because, a) they're nocturnal, and people see them during the day (before 6 p.m.) when they're at their calmest, and b) they've been raised by monks, and they trust people.

I pulled the photo off a travelhappy post. Now, who's coming with me to Thailand?

"Something fishy" has nothin on this lede

The lede from an AP story about New York City's revamped free condom distribution program:

NEW YORK (AP) — The city's new official condom is a "sensation,'' according to Mayor Michael Bloomberg's administration, which announced Wednesday that City Hall gave away a record 5 million in the first month of a distribution program.

The condoms involved in the revamped program have wrappers that say "NYC CONDOM" in the same font and bright colors used on city subway maps. The city distributed a record 5 million in the program's first month, about a 3.5-million increase over previous months.

That is all.

Perpetuating stereotypes

So I have this tendency to follow the car in front of me, regardless of who is driving that car or where he/she is going. Well I was in Carteret today waiting to get on the turnpike, and the truck in front of me merged into the right lane by slipping through the line of orange cones. I noticed a sign way up ahead that seemed to imply the Turnpike entrance was to the right, so, naturally, I followed the truck in front of me through the orange cones.

About 15 seconds later, I found myself in a muddy construction pit, and realized there were people directing traffic because of said muddy construction pit. Upon realizing there was no way out other than to turn around and try to cut in front of the stopped line of cars, I did that.

At which point the dude directing traffic got Very Angry.

Apparently there was an operational train track buried in the mud my car was sitting on, and the traffic guy started screaming at me. I opened my window to explain to him that I was clearly confused and ask where to go next.

All he did was scream over and over again, "What are you doing? Why would you do that? Get off the train tracks! You're sitting on the train tracks! Go park by the Volkswagen!"

So now that I finally had instructions, I looked for the Volkswagen I was supposed to pull up next to. This made him very unhappy as well.

"What are you waiting for?? Go park by the Volkswagen! Why are you sitting there? What are you doing?"

Now I was annoyed.

So, with my California plates, I inadvertently perpetuated every stereotype about Californians.

"DUDE!" I yelled out my window. "YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO CHILL."

He shut up.

Dream

On Friday night I dreamed that I was on a road trip with a bunch of Mennonites and we went into a Sports Authority where the Tamil Tigers' child soldiers were working overtime.