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.

And I was worried

I was sitting in the corner eating pasta salad with a coffee stirrer when the extent to which I didn't belong at the foster care event thing became comical yesterday.

It was the lunch break, and the other reporters there -- all of whom were based in the city and most of whom were big-name magazines, big-name TV stations or the Associated Press -- were all talking amongst themselves. They all knew each other, and I'd already gotten a what-the-hell-are-you-doing-here look from the Newsweek guy, so I'd given up on trying to join the conversation.

Then, to make everything that much more Fun, the only vegetarian option with lunch was pasta salad, and they'd forgotten forks. Hence, the coffee stirrer.

In other news:
Some Cincinnati pizza places are decorating their pizza boxes with photos of parents who are delinquent in child support payments.

My IQ is 24, just like your jersey number for the Knicks!

So I went to see Bill Bradley promote his new book, The New American Story, at the Princeton Barnes and Noble. He spoke for about 20 minutes, answered a formulaic question about the electoral college asked by your standard pretentious I-think-I'm-a-scholar man and then signed books.

I got to the front of the line for the book-signing and became your standard tard.

I believe I said something along the lines of, "Hello sir Mr. Bradley, Senator Bradley, er, former... Erica? E-R-I-C-A? With a C? Yes that's good. THANKS!"

In the midst of that jumble of nonsense, which I believe took me all of half a second to say, all he said was "With a K?"

Now what I'd meant to say was that I'd seen him speak about seven years ago at the YWCA in Santa Monica about Title IX, and that I really admired him.

Maybe he understood...

***

Anyway his talk was pretty interesting. He discussed the $1 gas tax concept (where it cancels itself out by going toward social security while social security is taxed less from your paycheck, combined with more stringent fuel-efficiency standards for cars.) He talked about combating gerrymandering with citizen committees to draw Congressional districts, and then having those districts either approved by a panel of judges or voted on by the general public. He also talked about funding campaigns with taxpayer money -- although I wasn't so sure about that one.

He discussed his theory on the social security crisis, saying it could be solved by raising the minimum age to receive benefits to 70 (phased in by one month every two years until 2099); making 2 percent of the 6.5-percent of social security tax apply to all income (right now social security only taxes income up to $94,200), bringing state and local government employees into the system (this would only apply to new employees and would be phased in over five years) and basing the cost-of-living increase on the chained consumer price index (I don't completely understand that part, but it's supposed to be more accurate than the straight-up cost-of-living index because it takes into considerations the substitutions people make based on price increases... but I'm sure Aviva will tell me if I'm completely wrong in my understanding of that one).

So that's my Bill Bradley experience.

Tomorrow's that foster care roundtable in New York... wish me luck...