Why we're *awesome*

Headline on Rich's A1 story today:
Schools targeting violence with guns

Personally, I think it ranks right up there with "Motorcycle breaks leg."

Born to hand jive, baby

Becky and I were wearing giant sparkly blue shirts doing the hand jive in the back corner of a swanky Manhattan restaurant when the extent of our coolness became very, very clear Saturday night.

We decided to go the non-traditional route for Halloween (rather than returning to our roots -- the Infamous Devil and Cat Fiasco of 2002 in which I ended up throwing up on myself on the cab ride home and she went home with a hairless, eyelashless freak... and that wasn't a costume). So we found these giant sequined blue shirts at a thrift shop, sprayed our hair blue and decided to be toothpaste. Think about it... think... think... yes. Crest.

So we traipsed through the city in our big sparkly blue shirts and made our way into the restaurant where someone we kind of know was having a birthday/Halloween party. She had rented out a room in a posh restaurant on 57th Street and we figured it couldn't be all that bad.

We walked in, being toothpaste, and found everyone else in traditional Halloween attire (sexy cat, sexy tiger, sexy Alice in Wonderland, sexy fill-in-the-blank, etc., etc., etc.). So we figured the drunker we were, the better -- but after the first gin and tonic set me back $11 plus tip we realized we probably should have pregamed.

After talking to a few different people (one of whom asked Becky why she didn't just find a big strong man to support her financially), it happened.

We were toothpaste sitting in the back corner of the room, eating cake and doing the hand jive. And the answer to your inevitable follow-up questions is no. No, the hand jive song wasn't playing. And no, no one else was doing the hand jive. We just suddenly started doing the hand jive for no apparent reason. We're not sure why ourselves.

We left soon afterwards, changed out of our toothpaste and finished off the night at a sports bar with the final innings of Game 3.

The impending Pimp and Ho Adventure of 2008's gonna have nothin' on last Saturday...

I'm not a reporter -- I just play one on TV

You know those people who like to ask themselves questions and then answer them ("Am I happy about being a schmuck? No. But have I come to accept it as a part of life? Sure.")? Apparently FEMA gave a whole new meaning to that...

FEMA held a press conference Tuesday in its southwest D.C. offices (nowhere near downtown or Capitol Hill, where the reporters are) with Deputy Director Harvey E. Johnson to discuss the California fires. Unfortunately, reporters only received 15 minutes notice about the press conference and no one was able to make it to the office on such short notice. So the reporters who weren't able to make it were given a call-in number on a "listen-only" line, meaning they could hear the press conference but wouldn't be able to ask any of their own questions -- much like Joe Blow watching it on Fox News.

Well the questions asked were like softballs in a senior citizens slow-pitch league. (What "commodities" are being shipped to Southern California? Are you happy with FEMA's response so far? Does the quick response to the fires show that you've learned lessons from Katrina?)

This from the Washington Post:

He was apparently quite familiar with the reporters -- in one case, he appears to say "Mike" and points to a reporter -- and was asked an oddly in-house question about "what it means to have an emergency declaration as opposed to a major disaster declaration" signed by the president. He once again explained smoothly.

Turns out, there was a good explanation for the smooth-as-a-baby's-butt press conference. Because of the impossibly short notice, no reporters could make it. Turns out, the "reporters" who showed up were actually FEMA's deputy director of external affairs, FEMA's deputy director of public affairs. FEMA's director of external affairs and one of FEMA's press aides, according to the Washington Post.

Al Kamen broke the story in his Washington Post column (from which I pilfered) here.

After standing by their decision through the week, FEMA apologized today. They also acknowledged that no actual reporter attended the press conference.

Reuters story on apology here.

What to do if you're attacked by monkeys

The best monkey story (and, OK, most morbid) I've ever heard involved monkey spluge in the eye leading to death. A young biologist had the noble job of holding a fake monkey vagina up to a male monkey's cage and letting him do his business so the biologists could collect the splugey specimen. But said biologist forgot to wear protective goggles, some spluge squirted up into his eye and the guy died a few days later from a resulting infection.

But monkey-related deaths and injuries occur more often as a result of a monkey attack. Most recently, The deputy mayor of New Delhi fell off his balcony and died Sunday after being attacked by wild monkeys.

According to Slate, monkeys generally attack because they think you have food. So if you're ever attacked by monkeys, you should either fork over the food (sorry, Fatty), or hold out your open palms to show them you don't have any food. If that doesn't work, you can try to chase them off with a stick. (because who doesn't carry a stick in their back pocket?)

Here's Slate's Explainer's take on How to Fight Monkeys.

On watching the ALCS with cats

I tried to put the Red Sox hat on A.M.'s head but it didn't fit so well and that made her very unhappy.
So she violently squirreled her way out of the hat and wanted to run away. But luckily, she's a very lazy cat and instead decided to just roll a little to the side and yell at me for a minute.

She remained unhappy about the hat being on top of her (she's kind of a control freak), so we compromised by having her cuddle with the hat instead.

The End. (hooray!)

It's "called underwear for a reason"

The Port Allen, La. city council has joined a bunch of other towns throughout the country banning baggy pants. It's the eighth Louisiana municipality to pass such an ordinance.

The council passed the ordinance on Monday, creating a $25 to $250 fine for a first offense and a $250 to $500 fine for subsequent offenses.

From the AP:
Councilmember Hugh Riviere said he didn't want to view other people's
undergarments, saying it "is called underwear for a reason.''

Another councilmember said she voted for the ordinance because many of her constituents believe baggy pants are a fashion faux pas.

AP story here
Local newspaper story here

So Piscataway's the new Crenshaw...

(It has, incidentally, occurred to me that my L.A. readers won't get the Piscataway reference; the Jersey readers won't get the Crenshaw reference; and the North Carolina readers won't get any references at all. So I apologize for that. And I double-apologize to Brian and Eric, who have no idea what any of these places are.)

That said...

My coworker Dave had had a bad week, and since I'm such a nice guy I decided I'd be the DD for once and drive to and fro the bars Friday night. After a long night of much drinking and an hour at Nuebies sobering up enough to drive home, we got into the car and I started driving him back to Piscataway.

Well the street he lives off of is essentially invisible and very easy to miss while driving 45 mph at 3:30 a.m., so I was driving a little under the speed limit and I noticed a car following close behind. I hate when people follow me close behind so I continued to watch from the rearview mirror.

Then I turned onto the street he lives off of -- which is not, incidentally, a major thoroughfare -- and the car turned also. I made the next turn onto his street, and the car turned again.

I locked the doors and pulled to the side of the road, hoping the car would continue past and everything was just a giant coincidence. The car pulled over, too.

I turned off my headlights. The car behind turned off its headlights.

At this point I was convinced we were about to be stabbed.

While Dave was calling the cops I was able to get a very fuzzy glance of the person driving the car and it appeared to be a blond chick. This made me feel less scared because apparently I'm a racist sexist asshole who assumes that blond girls can't be murderers.

So after a couple of minutes the dispatcher told us to drive forward and then make a left at the next block. I did. So did the car behind us.

At that point, two cop cars intercepted it at the corner and I pulled over half a block up.

The girl told the cops she was trying to follow someone else and must have gotten confused. It all seems very suspicious to me. The cop seemed to think that maybe she was a confused and/or bad private investigator.

So now I'm waiting for Dave's psychotic girlfriend to stab me in the head because she gets insanely jealous of any female in the same room as Dave and often refers to me as "the little bitch," even though I was disgustingly nice to her the one time we met. I don't trust that one...

Wow. That wasn't a good story at all.

Neither is this:
A.M. had a *giant* dingleberry this morning and was so terrified of it that she sprinted all over the apartment in a panicked -- and futile -- attempt to run away from her poo.

Like, OMG, totally!

So I generally try to sit quietly during haircuts, allowing the people at the hair salon to have their hair-salon-type conversations without me. Since they generally talk about pop culture, hair, fashion and other things I know nothing about, I've found that this strategy is best.

But on Saturday, they tried to include me in the conversation. Said conversation dealt with reality television, and the only time I've watched reality TV in the last three or four years was when Sparkley made me watch "America's Next Top Model" the other weekend.

Which is what I should have said.

Instead, I started ranting about how "Kid Nation" is a serious disappointment given the lack of a Lord-of-the-Flies, heads-on-stakes, ganging-up-on-fatties-named-Piggy atmosphere. I continued to ramble about how great that show would be if there were wars and a gang of kids trying to kill a fatty with broken glasses. I heard they cut the head off a chicken in one episode, I continued, but wouldn't it be better if they cut the head off a kid instead?

Apparently no one agreed. The salon was eerily quiet and I had to say something along the lines of, "J/K! You know what show's awesome? America's Next Top Model! Like, OMG, awesome!" just to get them to stop staring at me in horror.

The conversation eventually shifted to Halloween costumes and I limited my participation to periodic, "That's soooo cuuuute!" comments, which went over much better with the apparently-anti-child-killing crowd...

Still on the politeness rant...

I spent two hours in the doctor's office waiting room today, it turns out, because the nurses had "accidentally" recorded me as a "no show."

This comes on the heels of flipping out on a nurse who refused to refill my prescription (but told me she already had, thus sending me on a pointless trip to the pharmacy to pick it up), and writing a detailed e-mail to the doctor about the negligence of his staff. When I was finally called in today, I saw that the e-mail had been printed out and placed in my file.

I asked the doctor to explain his staff's negligence, and he hinted around the fact that the nurses dislike me. At first I tried to explain that I'd been very polite to his nurses for the first three phone calls, but I quickly realized this was a pointless explanation, because the doctor dislikes me as well. He was less concerned with my problems and more concerned with how I'd gotten his e-mail address. (Me: "I looked it up." Him: *looks at chart* "Ohhhh. You're a journalist. Maybe we should be nicer.")

Maybe I'll move back to Boston where I had a doctor who wasn't a douchebag... Anyone want to give me a job at the Globe? Anyone?

Done being polite.

You heard me. I'm done with it. It gets you nowhere. Cases in point:

1. The waitress spilled half a pitcher of ice water on me Sunday. The manager saw it happen and apologized profusely. I told them everything was fine and calmly blotted at my clothes with the damp towel they gave me. In the end, they gave us the check -- and comped *nothing.*

2. I spent last week politely calling the doctor's office to renew a prescription for a pain medication. They spent the week dicking me around. The long weekend came, I ran out of the pain medication and they still hadn't called the refill into the pharmacy. So I had to go through the weekend in serious pain and couldn't do shit about it. Then I called again today and politely reminded them that they were dicking me around. The woman tried to tell me that my other medication (an anti-inflammatory that does jack shit for pain) is "the same thing" as the pain medication. This is when I flipped out. She apologized and said she'd call the prescription in immediately.

But then, flipping out didn't work either. I went to the pharmacy to pick it up and they said nothing had been called in.

3. Last week I politely told my editors that my circa-1990 computer blows. They said I was next on the list for a new one and that I'd get said new one last week. A week later, I still have the same circa-1990 computer and when I came in today it refused to start up. So now instead of having a barely-working, no-memory piece of crap, I have no computer.

After sitting at my desk, reading the New York Times, waiting for the "help desk" to call from Neptune (the town, not the planet... I'm told) for hours, I said fuck it and told my editor she could call me at home if she needs anything.

So yeah. I'm done with politeness. I'm done with everything. Maybe I'll move to Thailand and open my own brothel...

Woo-hoo!

I just signed up to coach youth basketball again! My team's gonna be, like, *so* awesome. Maybe they'll even beat my first-ever team's 2-10 record. Because my coaching is Just That Good. Huzzah!

As promised...

Here are some Thailand pics. This is a very pared-down sampling -- for an overwhelmingly large album, visit my myspace page (also harbatkat)...

AYUTHAYA

The first photos are from Ayuthaya, which was Thailand's capital from 1350 to 1767. The name is Sanskrit for "unassailable" or "undefeatable." Four hundred temples were constructed throughout the city, but now it's a collection of ancient ruins. Many of the Buddha's were beheaded by looters for overseas antique collectors, and I was told after visiting there that there are signs instructing people not to have their picture taken standing behind the beheaded Buddhas. Apparently the city has had a problem with Western tourists pretending to be Buddha. It makes me sad that I didn't see these signs.

The first three pictures are of Wat Phra Mahathat, which was built in the 14th century. It's one of the most famous temples in the city. To the right is a Buddha head intertwined in tree roots.

The fourth photo is of Wat Ratburana, built in the 15th century for King Borom Rachathirat II's two brothers, who killed each other because they each wanted to assume the throne. I barely got any photos of Ratburana because I accidentally used up all my camera battery taking pictures of Giz before leaving. Ooops.

The last Ayuthaya picture is of the stall where I ate my first Thailand meal. It was at the Night Market, and I have no idea what it is. I only know that it was very, very spicy.




































BANGKOK
I spent about three days in Bangkok -- the longest I spent anywhere. The first photos are of the Grand Palace, which includes Wat Phra Kaew and houses the Emerald Buddha. The Emerald Buddha is supposedly really famous, but it's so small that it's hard to see in the midst of all the decorations surrounding it. Anyway the Buddha has a different-colored robe for each season, and the king changes the robe himself.

Grand Palace

Grand Palace

Grand Palace

In the same neighborhood as the Grand Palace is Wat Pho, which is famous for its giant reclining Buddha and its Thai massage school. I didn't get a Thai massage there, but I did see the reclining Buddha...

Giant reclining Buddha, Wat Pho


Wat Pho

Wat Pho

Across the river from the Grand Palace and Wat Pho is Wat Arun (above), which was the site of the royal palace after the capital moved from Ayuthaya and before the Grand Palace was built. Construction of this tower began in the early 19th century.
Wat Arun

The Amulet Market lines the streets near all these temples in Bangkok. Basically, a bunch of people lay down towels/blankets/whatever and sell random things, ranging from small handicrafts to batteries. It also seems to be a popular hangout for cats...

The Amulet Market, Bangkok

The Chatuchak Weekend Market is held in the northern part of the city every weekend. It's a claustrophobic collection of stalls selling clothes, food, bags, handicrafts and basically anything you can think of. It seems to draw a 50/50 mix of Thais and travelers.The Chatuchak Weekend Market, Bangkok

The Chatuchak Weekend Market, Bangkok

More photos, Kanchanaburi

Kanchanaburi is about two and a half hours west of Bangkok, and is the site where the Japanese imprisoned thousands of Australian and British POWs and forced them to build a railway to Myanmar. Conditions for the POWs were a lot like conditions for prisoners at the concentration camps, I think. They were crammed into closed freight wagons for four days and nights and didn't have enough room to lie down. They slept on lice-infected bamboo mats with blood-sucking insects, and their food rice infected with lime, kerosene, dirt and rat feces. When they got meat and fish it was filled with maggots -- prisoners skimmed the maggots off the top of the stew before serving.

Their chances of survival correlated directly with where they were placed. In the Tonchan Spring camp, 29 of 600 prisoners died. In the Songkurai camp, 1,200 of 1,600 died.

The Japanese wanted to construct this railroad in a year, even though architects told them it would be impossible with the 2,000 men they'd originally planned to use. So they installed 55 prisoner camps along the railway and put thousands of POWs to work.

Kanchanaburi is the site of the Bridge over the River Kwai, which had a book written and a movie made about it. The bridge was bombed by the Allied Forces in June 1945. Along the entire railway, about 15,000 POWs and 10,000 civilians died of sickness, malnutrition, exhaustion and mistreatment.

The Kanchanaburi War Cemetery is one of three on the Burmese-Siam Railway, and is the site of nearly 7,000 graves of POWs. Most are British, Australian and Dutch.


I passed the Bridge on the River Kwai but didn't get a picture. Then I was gonna go back later, but it's a little ways out of town and I didn't want to walk/ride there in the rain.

Anyway, Kanchanaburi is also the site of Wat Luang Ta Bua Yanna Sampanno, A.K.A. the Tiger Temple. It's about 25 miles out of town but still located in Kanchanaburi Province. The idea is that the entrance fee (300 baht, or about $9) goes toward building a big tiger reserve. So supposedly the tigers will be able to roam free once they raise enough money, but people have their suspicions. I've already said all I have to say about the controversy in a previous post, so I'll just post the photos below and let you decide for yourself.


This is the basic setup of the temple. The tigers spend about four hours a day in this area, on relatively long chains attached to the ground. Mostly, they sleep (or at least relax), but you can see the ones to the right are pacing a bit.


This guy was pretty chill. He spent most of his time sleeping and then was the last to go back to the reserve at the end of the day.

This is the baby. He liked playing with the monk and seemed to have a pretty good repor with some of the volunteers. But there were other volunteers I didn't trust...

Walking with the tiger (with cat-like speed, it seems)...

Playing with the monk...

It's a very weird place. At the end of the day they bring all the animals out together, and they run around and eat. They all live together and roam around like friends. It's all very odd...

And finally, you might remember the story about the cats hanging out at the bungalow. They were very cute...

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...