povera stella

The Almost Trip to England

2010-02-25T14:43:00.001-05:00

This really happened to my friend JM. All of it.

Speeding because of Sculptures

2010-02-25T10:53:00.005-05:00

On a recent trip to Vermont for a sad but really worthwhile visit, I found myself driving near Platekill, NY. I like odd named things and also to find odditites while traveling. But my timeline did not allow for stopping. So when I saw a field of metal sculptures that appeared to be brothers with the newest (er?) giangator sculpture along the ben franklin parway in Philly, I became distracted. In fact, I was so distracted that I failed to look for cops.

I received a "conduct interfering with orderly/safe traffic flow" which I received due to my unfailing honesty (Yes, officer, I was probably speeding) but smart omission that I wasn't paying attention (It was because I was looking out the window trying to figure out what those brightly painted hunks of metal are in the that field over there) and the impeccable driving record I have.

Thank you Cornwell Township Policeman whereever you are for given me a semi-warning in lieu of the many points you could have instead bestowed. I will gladly pay my fine (worth a third of the total ticket) and penalties for court interaction (worth the other 2/3) once you mail it back to me.

Turns out the sculpture farm is Storm King. I thought that was the name of the horse.

post script: I have been following all speed limits religiously from that moment, much to the chagrin of the people following me thru Vermont and then NJ on the way back home.

Funny That Unlucky #1 Should Mention the Passat...

2010-01-07T17:29:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, the main blogger to this site left town for a week. In an attempt to help out costs in this economy, I volunteered to pick up the Passat in the Economy Lot of the airport so only a days worth of parking costs would accrue. I, Unlucky #2, work at the airport, so this seemed like a very easy/no stress kind of chore.

After getting passed by 2 buses taking other passengers to lot, I decided to just walk to the car. Seeming to be an easy enough task, I began chatting with my mother to distract me from the fact that it was freezing as I wandered through. About 30 minutes later, a bus pulled up to me and the driver politely asked "Are you lost hunny?" And he gave me directions to walk over the nearest bus shelter and a bus was going to pick me up and take me to the section where Unlucky #1 had told me I would find the car. I quickly ran over to the shelter and told my mother I would call her back as I stepped onto the bus and slipped my phone in my pocket. This bus driver was not as polite but he could me to the correct bus shelter nonetheless. About 30 seconds later, bus driver #2 said "This is your stop ma'am. Watch your step." As I jumped off the bus he pointed to the sign that said G22 which of course was right near where I was standing at K10-ish.

Once the bus pulled away, I began searching around section G22 for The Passat. I finally found it (the alarm was either very quiet or decided not to register that evening) and I unlocked it, sat down and proceeded to call my mother back to let her know the bus driver didn't kill me. I pat myself down and couldn't find my phone. I emptied my bag and couldn't find my phone. I started the car, turned on the lights (I forgot to mention this was around 10:30 pm) and searched the ground near the parking spot for my Nokia 6205 (which I never wish anyone to own). I traced my 1-minute journey from the first bus shelter to The Passat and found nothing.

After 30 minutes of searching I gave up. I proceeded to the exit toll lanes to pay/ask if I had any chance of finding my phone again. The toll booth manager was surprisingly helpful. "Hunny just make a U-turn and drive to the other end of the lot to the bus depot. There's a trailer there with lights. Ask one of them if they've seen it." So I proceeded to drive to the depot. On the way, I passed bud driver #1 who pulled over to me and said "Hunny, are you lost again?!?" I explained what happened and he told me that the bus driver #2 had it and had been trying to find me and to wait there and in about 8 minutes I would have my phone back.

By 11:45 pm, I was in my bed falling asleep...finally. Thank you to the Philly Airport Economy Lot Bus Drivers.

What a difference 2,007 miles makes...

2009-12-29T10:01:00.004-05:00

On Sunday evening, after an event that will take too long to blog right now, I found myself driving to the grocery store to replace groceries. When I came out, got into my car and started to drive away, I noticed people flashing their high beams at me. Startled, I checked my headlight dial which was on and chalked it up to my missing headlight. You see, my car had a headlight out and had begun telling me this Monday of last week. But when I turned onto the residential side streets, I noticed that both my headlights must be out. I go to work at 6AM. It is dark then. I knew Monday was about to become a day off.

On Thursday evening (Christmas Eve) of last week, the check engine light came on. On Saturday morning (the day after Christmas), my windshield washer fluid light came on. Now I am all for Holiday lightshows, but this was ridiculous!

Knowing that we have a trip to Boston planned, I decided to try to get the two things fixed at once and managed to schedule an appointment for Monday afternoon when I called on Monday morning.

Why, you might ask, did I not change my light bulbs myself? The answer is part bc you basically have to remove part of the engine to replace them in a Passat. (google it- you get 91,000 results) So $80 for headlights that cost around $8 a pop coupled with the check engine light automatic $98 "finder's fee" for figuring out what was wrong started off the trip to the repair shop. But when they checked the engine light and came up with a PCV Valve problem and the bill went up to $440, I thought great! I have a warranty! ONLY....

My warranty ends at 50K- my car has 52,007. I am almost certain that Karma is out there laughing hysterically right now.

Operation Agua

2009-10-25T21:15:00.006-04:00

I began my attempts to install the waterline from my basement to my in-fridge ice and water dispenser about two months ago. By begin, I mean I made my dad hole saw thru the floor and then I randomly purchased accoutrements when I remembered in various trips to the store. Last Thursday, I decided enough is enough and in anticipation of Halloween and potential ice needs, I began anew with a trip to Home Depot. (Normally I am Lowe's but we have a gift card.) Operation Agua commence!

My home has a water manifold system and all I wanted on Thursday was:
1) A plastic connector to make the 1/2" pex pipe ($16) that I bought on one of my previous trips for Halloween supplies in order to attach the pex to the port.
2) A reducer/connector to go from 1/2" pex pipe to 1/4" line on the back of my fridge.

Instead, twenty minutes later, I came home with standard plumbing items of the following:
1) 5/8" compression nut with insert $2.77
2) 1/4" compression nut with insert $1.52
3) 5/8" compression nut x 3/8" compression nut both with inserts $4.70
4) 25' of 1/4" poly pipe $6-something

Now, I blame myself partially for not having rechecked the sizes but when he hands me each package after a detailed discussion of what I needed, I left the store and came home full of vim and vigor. Only 3/8" inserts don't fit in 1/4" tubing.

So, I proceed to spend Sunday with the plumbing apprentice aka BS, my boyfriend and every tool we have in the house. Turns out the standard size 5/8" compression nut doesn't actually screw on to the port when you insert the pex into the compression fitting and as we realized this we proceeded to drop it onto the floor and break the nut so I find myself taking a trip to Home Depot to replace the two headed nut and we take the $2.77 loss plus our time plus more gas from my already low tank.

At Home Depot, I return my 5/8"x 3/8" part for store credit and head back to the plumbing aisle. I stare into the boxes of PEX related parts until the man using the threading station notices my bewilderment and proceeds to come to my rescue. Standing there with hands full of all the appropriate parts, I couldn't figure out how I was going to crimp the pipe back at the house..

And lo and behold, Rich, the Home Depot savior, pulls out the crimper..to "show me how it works in theory" and with a wink, continues to make the above, a 1/2" PEX compression fitting (the one on the left) crimped copper ring, PEX pipe link, crimped copper ring to 1/2" male adaptor... swipe the bags and grab a bag of Sour Patch Kids for my mental stress and I am out $9.30 less the $4.70 credit but am a solid hour ahead in work.
We chisel out the wood to fit our new reducer onto the manifold and turn the water on... LEAK! Guess who forgot pipe tape?? So out to Sears Hardware for $1.05 and back to re-connect the pipes and turn the water on.... LEAK! Turns out the 1/4" compression fitting has some sort of issue in the nut that is allowing water thru coupled with my shrinking patience and I find myself holding three pieces for what is a two piece component. Off I go again, back to Sears for a new compression nut and nylon sleeve with insert ($2.63).
It is now 4:00. I have missed the Steelers game, I have installed a new compression fitting and we turn the water back on....
SUCCESS!

Total Spent:
6 hours including driving time and $39.37 not counting gas but I will never need a Brita again.

Nightmare on ELM AVE..

2009-10-25T20:52:00.002-04:00

Bike Accident

2009-10-15T14:50:00.003-04:00

My friend GB of stolen bag fame has had yet another run in with bad karma...

Yesterday while riding in DC, GB was hit by a woman who the cops referred to as "ancient". He was riding in Washington Circle and thus had the right of way. The ancient (and potentially blind) woman failed to yield and instead hit him, knocking the bike and GB several yards away skipping across the pavement like a stone across a lake.

He emerged unscathed due to proper helmet, long pants, long-sleeved shirt and other bike accessories. The bike, however, did not.

handlebars- check the handlebars..

This is Maggie, not Dana... aka the Mix-up

2009-10-14T16:20:00.007-04:00

If you have ever had surgery, you know that they repeatedly ask which body part they are to be cutting and mark it several times with indelible ink. I assume it is to make sure that there are no screw-ups in the surgery process. They also confirm and re-confirm your name and other items about you.
I have come to believe this is common practice among all health related trades.

See my most recent trip to the eye doctor..

Receptionist: "Maggie, Could you come to the window?"
Me: walks to window "Yes?"
Receptionist: "Ok, just making sure. The doctor will be with you shortly."
Me: sits back down
A few minutes elapse..
Doctor: "Maggie?"
Me: looking up hesistantly
Doctor: "Are you Maggie Reed? Ok, come on back."

So on to the topic at hand...

On Monday, I went to work like any other day only to remember at 7AM as I was unlocking the trailer door that I had a dentist appointment at 10AM in the city. So... I was supposed to be in the city today. And it was for a dentist appointment. When I go to the dentist, I make a good show of it. I blame my mom and her tablets..

that show plaque where you missed it when brushing. Having done a poor imitation of brushing that morning, I found myself searching for a drugstore open at 7 AM near my jobsite. I wound up driving to a supermarket I knew was open, purchasing a toothbrush and toothpaste and brushing my teeth in the ACME bathroom.

I then traveled into the city where there was no traffic (IMPOSSIBLE on any other day when I didnt have nearly 3 hours to kill!!) and found myself next to my old apartment listening to my audiobook and creeping out the families taking their kids to school by sitting in my warm car waiting for the next thirty-two minutes. In an effort to avoid raising uneccessary alarm in people, I wandered to a nearby coffeeshop in an effort to waste the remaining 1 hour and 53 minutes left until my appointment.

It took me 57 minutes to drink one cup of tea. I thoroughly creeped out the guy working beside me as I sat listening to Sookie Stackhouse on my ipod and watching the people as they walked on past. It took another 15 minutes to throw my cup away and leave the shop and another 10 to walk back to my car because I took the long way. I sat in my car again for another 20 odd minutes and then walked to the dentist who was a half a block away.

When I arrived, the xray machine was in pieces and standing in the receptionists area. The receptionist looked like people had been bothering her and when she asked if I was Dana upon being given a chance to talk to someone who wasn't the phone, the dentist or the technicians, I told her no. I was Maggie. She commented that I was really early (22 minutes... ) and to have a seat.

Given my ability to wait at this point, I put on my ipod and flipped thru a people magazine. I became aware about 12 minutes later that a technician was trying to get my attention. I stood up, took out my headphones, and followed her back. She would proceed to say nothing to me while I sat in the chair until after she had put the bib on at which point she asked me if I had any health changes. I responded that I was on new medication and that was the last word we would say to each other for the next couple of minutes.

She was a butcher.

Let me say: I like getting my teeth cleaned. I like the scraping and the smooth feeling you have for the next couple of days without really trying. But I do not like feeling like someone has jammed stuff in between your teeth and that someone has done needlepoint on my gums. Normally, also, when you cringe or tighten fists or go tense, people stop and ask if you are ok. Not the "Meat Chopper".... I had to talk with utensils in mouth to get her to notice that I was wildly uncomfortable to which she responded she would floss them and then it would feel better.

At about this point, I became aware of footsteps and the receptionist said to "Miss pokey sticks":

"Just so you know, you are working on Maggie. (audible pause during which I am guessing the butcher made some sort of gesture or face) Dana didn't show. So you are working on Maggie. It's been that kind of a morning."

I would like to know what kind of a morning makes it ok to confuse one patient with another and not figure it out until the cleaning was almost finished. Obviously one worthy of this blog.

Buttonless Remote

2009-10-14T16:17:00.002-04:00

Manny spent an awful lot of time sitting under the bed the other night... Here's why...

DC Revenge

2009-09-08T09:53:00.004-04:00

In retailiation for my office, I ordered this kit for the assailant roughly two months ago. It arrived today... I can't wait for him to start getting the David cassidy Newsletter!

Personal Health Ass-essment

2009-08-10T09:06:00.003-04:00

Today I took my company's mandated Personal Health Assessment. I must take this in order to receive the "discounted" health insurance rate. What they failed to tell me was that I might also have to take a mental health day when I get the report back due to my BMI results.

**Editor's note: This bears a striking resemblance to a report I received in college from a nutrionist who told me the bod pod measuring my body fat percentage must be off because if my BMI is 25 (which made me overweight), then my body fat couldn't be less than 20%. (It was.)

At the time, my coach was trying to convince me to gain ten pounds of muscle bc it would make me a better athlete. That would have made my BMI 26.

Hendrika and the House

2009-07-02T14:53:00.004-04:00

No, this isn't the title of my new children's book.

This is the story of my friend MC who sent me an email about his recently lost house:

"Ms. Reed,
Do you remember back when you had some issues closing on the house because you're 'people' had screwed up and it caused some delays and some headaches, but ultimately it worked out because you got the house? And I told you that I thought I was good that my guys had already covered some of the issues you had. I felt confident that I would have a smooth settlement. You should be thankful. At least you got the house. At least your 'owner' (I assume this was the builder) was in the same zip code. Hell, at least they were in the same area code. Shit! At least you knew where they were! I cannot claim to know any information as it relates to the location of my seller except to say I don't know where she is. That's right. My seller has been AWOL since Friday, June 26. There was no settlement. There is no house in Prospect Park. I am waiting to receive my deposit back but I can't expect to get my appraisal fee and home inspection money back. Oh yeah. I'm not sure if you'll consider this happening blog-worthy, but at the very least it should be considered for two reasons. The first is that as far as closing on houses go, you have a better track record than someone else you know. The second is that there could be an argument that the reason for my bad luck closing on a house is similar to the bad luck experienced by so many of your friends: my association with you. While I really believe it has more to do with some crazy, Dutch woman whose name may be Hendrika*, I cannot eliminate the obvious connection between my recent bad luck and your usually . . . challenging (right word?) karma.

*On a humorous note, instead of moping around yesterday we went out and looked at 16 houses. Yes, 16 in one day. And we spoke with one realtor and our issue came up. We said, "We had a bad experience with a deal in Prospect that fell through today when the seller left town." She responded, "By chance, was this person's name Hendrika?" We answered, "Yes! How do you know her?" She replied, "I was her agent when she bought that house." Funny how small of a world it is.

Getting back to business, we have decided not to tell anyone (except the absolute must knows like our realtor, mortgage guy, and parents) when the next house will close. We've decided that there's a possibility that someone else's bad karma jinxed us. (And that is not a jab at you. Please note, I have had nothing but generally good luck since I've known you so I think your bad karma thing is a load of hogwash.) In the future, we will send out a note, call, whatever, when we are physically standing in the house with all papers signed and checks cashed. Only then will I feel confident enough to say "I am a homeowner."

Have a wonderful holiday weekend! I'm off to Alaska to get my head clear and start my future.

MC, we wish you the best of luck. Buon viaggio!

David Cassidy and my daily life

2009-07-02T13:17:00.004-04:00

My coworkers stayed an extra 30-60 minutes on Tuesday night just to decorate my office, hardhat, laptop and files with pictures of David Cassidy all because I requested very loudly in what might be considered an angry voice that they stop signing "I think I love you" for the fortieth time in two days.

david flowers- scientific name davidus cassidius

my hard hat

even my desk drawers..

Stealing is the new black- Updated!

2009-06-29T14:34:00.005-04:00

GB corrections are noted in red. They really add a level of flair that the post alone was missing. Thanks for the additions..

So apparently there has been a rash of stolen cars recently. My friend GB lives a horrifying similiar cell phone life to my friend DB (no relation). While DB once lost three phones in three seperate but contigious trips to chicago all in taxi cabs, GB once lost three phones in puddles and also drove over a cell phone in what I swear was a weeks worth of time .

Most recently, however, GB lost his cellphone, along with all other worldly possessions in a car in a yacht club parking lot. Like most people, the words yacht and yacht club enspire visions of granduer and exclusivity, or at least of security cameras. However, there are apparently a myriad of empty yacht club parking lots around, since my google search turned up photos like this. But he was in Anapolis, home of the Naval Academy and fancy houses so you would think at least someone would be looking out for Yacht Crime. Keep in mind being so close to Baltimore, Annapolis does have a burgeoning crime scene.

But still the car was taken in the thirty minutes it took to walk back into the clubhouse get a drink and head back out. And so was a bookbag (actually an advanced trans alpine biking backpack allowing for air circulation during quick descents from extreme altitudes - epitome of German engineering. this pack does not compare to a bookbag which will dump your lunch while riding sending apples rolling down the street) and keys and mp3 players and wallets. Unfortunate you might say, but unlucky? It's just a little car theft.

Only his roommate had just left for a week in Florida. So no back-up keys were to be found. Only a locksmith and two week's worth of new card acquistions and mp3 mourning was to be had.

The car was found, top down, windows open after our most recent bout with six weeks straight of rain with nothing inside. I think you might need a carfax before you buy this one.

To prove all is not lost and to end on a positive note, good fortune did shine on GB during a recent and related lapse of his intelligence. A bundle of important stuff including all new credit cards, id cards, new mailbox keys, and passport (only form of id he had at the time), was placed on the roof rack of his vehicle to free up his hands to load in his bike which had a flat tire due to Obama's motorcade - but thats a different story. He was lucky because there was traffic and he was not driving very fast. He was lucky to have realized in a tunnel under Washington Circle that the important stuff was left on the roof. Shouting obscenities, he stopped, got out of the car in a sea of road-rage induced honking and exhaust fumes, and safely retrieved my important stuff... he could only imagine driving over the bridge, looking out the rear view mirror, seeing everything flying out into the river...

The Really Robbed Co-worker

2009-05-26T21:13:00.003-04:00

So I have learned thru our unseen co-blogger MK that there is a co-worker of ours who deserves an unlucky and upsetting shout out...

Turns out, LF, might have worse break-in luck than I. In the last six months, LF has had:
1. Her apartment broken into and only her camera and laptop stolen. Nothing was taken that belonged to her roommate. Can anyone spell "Inside Job?"

2. Her boyfriend who lives in NYC was down for the weekend and managed to get his car stolen from right outside her apartment.

and if that's not enough,

3. Apparently, when her family was out at her own father's FUNERAL(!!), their house was broken into!!

That, my friends, is truly unlucky and upsetting.

LF, my heart and any good karma I have built up goes out to you.

Manny on a leash

2009-05-21T08:15:00.000-04:00

So this post is mostly upsetting for Manny and mostly funny for me, but KM recently wrote about Manny's most recent harness experience.

Guinea pig on a leash!

Please note this is a pig on a leash, not a guinea pig. I just thought the picture was funny.

My guinea pig bit my hair off

2009-05-12T12:26:00.004-04:00

On Sunday, after running in the Komen Race for the Cure with my friend SM, I decided to shower and hang out with Manny. I recently changed shampoo and apparently it must smell like strawberries, Manny's favorite food.

Manny is sitting on my shoulder while my hair is down and chirping away when all of a sudden I see a chunk of hair fall onto my t-shirt. Turns out, Manny was chirping while nibbling through my hair.

(Me with my new "face framing layer")

Spilled plants

2009-05-07T08:06:00.002-04:00

Today, each time I type in my number keypad, my phone keypad or move my mouse, something goes crunch. When I lift my radio to call someone in the field, tiny rocks fall out. I just took a sip of water out of my mug and got a gritty feeling in my mouth. I guess that is the price you pay when you try to save a little green space by keeping a plant in your office and trying to open your window one handed. It makes the plant take a nosedive onto your desk and cover everything with a fine layer of green roof dirt.

Free Hampster Coupon

2009-05-04T07:59:00.001-04:00

Two weeks ago, I bought a guinea pig. I have been a hampster owner since I was 3 so the switch to a slightly larger fuzzy creature isn't a huge leap. He was so cute and reminded me of Manny the Mammoth from Ice Age so I bought him.

( I know you see the resemblance)

However, in contemplating my new edition to our family, I was reminded of all the hampsters gone past.

Hampsters live short little lives, in comparison to other pets, so I have had opportunities to have more of them than, let's say, dogs.
It all started with Peaches, a pinkish orange and creme hampster who ate onions when I was 6 but managed to survive and lived at least 3 years despite having her(?) paws put in paint and being forced to run on my mom's casio keyboard to write music.

**I don't think there was anyone between Peaches and Cinnamon. Please note that I have always had cute little dwarf hampsters not those big long rat looking hampsters. Fat hampsters are always acceptable. Long hampsters are wierd looking.**

Cinnamon was the mousiest of the bunch and had less tolerance for being caged. Cinnamon escaped several times, along with two hermit crabs who were never recovered. Cinnamon also lived for a solid three years at a minimum. Cinnamon also ate plastic like nobody's business. He(?) chewed the crap out of his ball lid connection and it was often a source of his escapes.

I went hampsterless for a solid period of time, having school and dogs to take up my time, but in college, my mom decided to bring me a surprise.

It was a warm day, in late fall and she had come to watch me play rugby. I was still the proud owner of a 1973 SuperBeetle which was parked at the field and she had brought along a little gift for me. Leaving it in the car as she left after the first half, the little gift in a cage with some water, proceeded to die.
As SG, my aussie friend put it, "Oh, Mag! You have a hampster puddle!" (read that in an aussie accent and you will laugh for days!)

In tears over my new but dead pet, SG and I drove, in a dramatic fashion, back to the pet store where my mom had purchased said hampster.

When we walked in, the owner clearly had never encountered a sobbing American and a peeved Australian with a puddle of hampster before and in minutes found himself handing over, written on a cash receipt slip, a coupon for a free hampster as this one had been one of the last ones in the store and he was officially out.

Two weeks later, I received a call that hampsters had arrived and purchased Dirk Digger*, a legend in the architecture school and a true pocket hampster. The best hampster coupon story EVER!

*Dirk would one year later be killed by a few children responsible for keeping him while I was away in the summer. He was survived by a hampster whose name shall remain unsaid who bit, a lot, like I had canvas gloves for people to pick him up. I think my roommates fed him vodka before I moved to Rome.

** Author's note: Mom, if this is the first time you have ever heard of this story, don't worry. Dirk ended up being the best hampster a college architecture class could ever ask for.

I got stuck in an elevator- at Christmas time

2009-04-20T17:33:00.001-04:00

So I found this started blog post that I apparently got distracted and never finished (surprised anyone?)... and thought, "Why not share this doozy with the world?" Merry Christmas in April, folks.

This is not a big deal. I kind of like the thought of wasting a day or two in an elevator. But the elevator at our downtown office has never broken on me before. I am not personally claustrophobic so when the woman approached myself and MC, my co-worker, our reaction to her seemingly crazy question of "Does this elevator get stuck often?" was one of almost incredulous, "No... never happened to either of us and we ride it all the time."

**Please note that this was our company's Operation Santa Claus day and that MC was dressed as Santa and I as a too-tall elf (If I can find the picture, I will attach it..)

No sooner did we pack Santa, myself and our new claustrophobic friend into our elevator, than four more ladies joined us. Now, this elevator is rather large and while I run the risk of sounding prejuidiced against the jolly, I have seen many large men pack into this elevator at closing time having apparently eaten their desks before entering. Note that I had not been stuck during these trips with the un-famished. So the 7 of us, ladies chattering away about the luncheon they were heading to, MC and I trying to not sweat to death and our claustrophobic friend headed upward. But between P1 (parking level one) and L (lobby for office), we skipped S (Store level). Dramatically panicking because it had skipped her level, our new friend pounded the buttons as the elevator came to a stop and the doors did not open.

MC has recently been in charge of an elevator contract and tried to begin to explain that it was not a big deal, that we deal with elevators all the time (althought I can see after our first incorrect statement that the elevator never gets stuck, why she might not believe us) and BAM! Claustrophia starts slamming buttons and pounding the door and shouting.

In true time elapse, we might have been stopped for three and a half whole minutes. The ladies all tried to calm her down while MC stood watch over the buttons so she couldn't do anymore damage and I spoke into the speaker. Thirty-five percieved minutes later, we were returning to the parking level where we explained to everyone to follow us and wandered out and around and up the stairs from P1 to S and then where they could find (insert place they were planning to go here).

Lesson learned: Don't allow the claustrophobic lady in the elevator with the bad-luck elf.

Medical History

2009-04-10T11:16:00.004-04:00

My friend O (aka KS) has been complaining recently of shortness of breath after athletic activity. Purely joking, her roommate LR suggested that O get herself checked for asthma. A high level collegiate athlete, O has been playing rugby for 5 years at the fastest pace in the women's collegiate game with little issue. However, last weekend, after playing against a women's clubside, O found herself almost vomiting due to her lungs hurting so much.

Three hours later, while talking to her mom, O commented that her lungs had only just started to feel ok again. Her mom, very lovingly, responded that maybe O should start taking her inhaler again because of her excerise-induced asthma.
O:"My what?"
Her mom:"Your inhaler. All three of you kids had asthma..."
O:"But only my brother and sister have inhalers!!"
Her mom: "Well, they needed them."

She is now the proud owner of her brother's inhaler until after the national championship playoffs.

Maybe someone should have filled out her medical history form before she left for college five years ago.

Twins seperated at birth, only 11 years apart...

2009-04-05T20:46:00.006-04:00

My cousin Brian was bar mitzvah'd on Saturday. The youngest of the three cousins in that family, Brian is probably the coolest kid of anyone I know. Who else would pose for the nine thousandth picture that day making the same face I would??

But the big story of the day is that my cousin Lauren (same family..stick with me here) and I ended up at the same event in the same dress.
Lauren has been compared physically to me since her birth and most people would agree that it is easy to see that we are cousins. In fact, some of our photos of us at the same age are a toss-up as to which belongs to who (unless someone made a note on the back or the fashions in the photos give it away). But when Lauren walked towards me in the middle of the Fellowship Hall wearing the EXACT SAME DRESS, complete with matching shrug, we knew we had made everyone's dream of a face to face comparison a reality. Unplanned and purchased seperately and never before discussed, our matching outfits meant I was often refered to as Lauren's age (11 years my junior may I note?).

Judge for yourself.

*at least we're both girls...

inside out and upside down

2009-03-25T12:04:00.003-04:00

Monday, at my company's regional dinner, I wore a new and fascinating piece of apparel. Formerly known as the sports bra, it became the arb strops when, due to forgetting a "real bra", I had to turn it upside down and wear it as sort of a halter. It was bright orange and typical of a sport bra and the shirt I brought to change into was a boatneck in blue and white which would just really not allow for faking that I wore a tank underneath my shirt on purpose....So basically, for about four hours, I had a shelf of boobs.

What not to wear, Here I come.

Trippy

2009-03-23T08:13:00.005-04:00

(these are not actually my knees but they look close.)

This past weekend I suffered several injuries. Anyone who has been around me for any length of time knows that graceful or agile is not exactly the words which quickly come tot he tongue when asked to describe me. Instead, in a National Championship game broadcast, I was once described as "rumbling, bumbling, stumbling". Nice.

So why I was suprised that I would suffer injury trying to be lithe and athletic on Sunday is a little beyond my own understanding of myself but the whole event was rather hilarious, so I thought it should be shared...

It all started Saturday when in a fit of fake rage, I threw a punch thru a doorway with my elbow. I honestly wasn't sure I didn't break it until Sunday morning. I failed to recognize my surroundings and was much closer to edge of the closet than I realizes. When I threw said punch, I slammed my elbow into the reinforced edge of the closet causing my elbow to give since the reinforcing wouldn't and I collapsed in pain that didn't relent until I fell asleep that night. When I woke up, I still couldn't use it too well in terms of putting pressure on that arm but I was obviously not broken.*

It was a sunny Sunday so we decided to go running seperately (see above for descriptive terms of my athleticism and you'll understand why I often run with myself). I was enjoying the sunshine, listening to Sookie, and running amongst the throngs of people in town for the regatta on Boathouse row, when I found myself suddenly airborne. With reaction time close to a blind deaf slug, it was helpless to try to react and instead I allowed myself to come to a heavy stop on my hands and knees. A man doing step-ups on a bench stopped and stared. No one managed to snicker until after I stood up, an event that made me look like a lop-sided tripod due to my elbow injury from the previous night not allowing me to put weight on that arm. When the man recognized that I was able to walk, he went back to his step-ups on the bench. I wanted to throw a rock at him, but the pain streaming thru my hands was stopping me from doing anything besides blinking back tears of embarassment. I quickly started to run, toughing it out when I realized the blood streaming down my knee was probably pretty disgusting.

(I should take this moment to comment on my running attire for the day. I choose to wear bright red shorts and an almost hot yellow t-shirt. So assuming your friend missed my theatrics, you could quite easily remember and point out the girl you just totally saw bite it in the biggest way.)

I managed to tough it out another half mile or so when I saw a bench and stopped to check out the damage. A man walked past my obvious attempt to stop the bleeding and then doubled back, asking if I was ok, if I needed a ride anywhere or if not, that he had a bandaid in the car. Feeling a bit like a five-year old at the playground being asked if I would like some candy, I released my yellow shirt now stained with blood and told him I was fine and continued on my run. I made it home and washed the rocks out my knee and spent the rest of the day trying to not run into things or fall anywhere else.

*(My elbow is currently the size of two elbows and rather blue in color, in case you were wondering).

Cats crossing my path

2009-02-27T08:15:00.003-05:00

Last night I was watching "House" for a brief moment and the patient was sure he was cursed. He talked of being the most unlucky kid in the world (for full synopsis click here). I was intrigued by what he might have, being highly unlucky myself, until the first real diagnosis was Anthrax and Chase commented that Gabe might be the most unlucky kid ever. Off went the tv.

This morning two black cats crossed my path, narrowly missing my tires as I drove to work. I sure hope I don't have Anthrax....

Cops and Jury Duty

2009-02-19T13:20:00.005-05:00

Question of the Day: "Would you be more likely to believe a police officer testimony because of their job?"

I recently (Tuesday) served my civic duty of jury duty for the City of Brotherly Love. Don't get me wrong here... I enjoyed having the valuable time of my day dedicated to reading magazines I was smart enough to bring while I was shuffled back and forth between uncomfortable wooden pews.

Following a friend's advice, I arrived approximately five minutes late. Apparently, my friend gave this advice to everyone on jury duty that day as there were a plethora of people who had chosen to not quite be on time. I passed thru security with little to no issues and entered Room 101. Finding myself with little understanding of just exactly what was going on here, I grabbed my mini-golf pencil and form 1 & 2 and hustled back to the theatre chairs all the way at the back that meant a little extra leg room. I filled in the information at the top of both sheets, listening for my name to be associated with a juror number (secretly wishing for juror #4)...

Peter Bartlett: I didn't bribe anyone.

Casey Novak: (sarcastically) Nooo... that fifty thousand dollar payment to juror number four was charity.

But alas, just as I began my filling in my answers to the questions on page #1 and #2, I was given the number 6. I had made it all the way to the question with which I started my blog and a flashback started to occur...

***Enter whispy dry ice fumes....

Monday, I am driving thru downtown Philadelphia and find myself at 16th and Chestnut at 1:38PM. I must go approximately 4 city blocks until I enter a covered garage and proceed upstairs to a meeting being held at 2PM. As I pass 16th, the two cars in front of me turn left leaving me the solo driver in my lane for the next block as several cars deep are waiting to turn right on 15th. As I approach the intersection of Chestnut and 15th, three youths streak across the intersection across traffic. Please note I had a green light.

Due to the actions of these fine young men, I now find myself slamming on the brakes. Since they clear the street before I even have the chance to hit them, I now clear the intersection as it turns yellow out of the corner of my eye. I am now stuck at the next light, as lights inevitably change in unison. When the cars behind me advance, I see a cop car pull up behind me and then flash its lights.

Now. The following things are true:

1. I drive a bright red passat.

2. My age is sometimes mistaken and I have been asked unreasonable questions about my age in multiple locations (example: at 22, I was asked if I would be driving soon. True story.)

3. I believe that I am a good driver.

So when I see the lights, I think, "They should have turned at 15th. There is a lot of traffic here and a bus on my right. How are they going to get past?" Naivety.

Folks, they stopped that cop car right there, got out and approached my vehicle. Having had my car broken into twice last year, I actually did not know where my registration and insurance was at first and the lady cop to my left was very curt when she informed me to stop freaking out because I hadn't gotten a ticket yet so my attitude could go a long way towards helping that. Also, I needed to "turn my radio down!" (Note to cops out there: Please do not speak to humans in a tone used for a naughty dog. It tends to bring out the b*tch in all of us). She asked me my age (check the license lady) and asked me if I knew why I was stopped (obviously not given my surprise at your tapping on my window as I sat in traffic) and then I then sat in the left lane blocking traffic until 2:02 when they brought my papers back and told me to have a safe day.

...smoky fog clears****

Do I have any bias towards the Philly Police department who has not shown up to my car break-in and then wasted twenty minutes of my day not writing me a ticket but warning me not to try to hit people who are jaywalking while I have a green light? I think I have done enough jury duty for this city for a while.

Wardrobe malfunction

2009-02-12T08:30:00.002-05:00

My friend ON is a successfully highly motivated business woman. While relatively few unlucky things happen to her as she is the consummate planner of all things, she does have some upsetting items that have recently taken place due to her planning failing her*.

On a recent trip to DC for work to host lunch and meetings, she found herself standing at the train station at 6:57AM waiting for the train here and noticed that she had two right shoes of different black heels.

Let that sink in folks. Two black right heels. Nice. Luckily she was wearing semi-acceptable (although not for a suit) black casual shoes and not uggs.

The text I received at 6:33 PM sealed the deal on the day, however:
"I have just discovered that I have been wearing my undies inside out all day."

7 am waiting for the Acela and realized the shoes were wrong... Not to mention the incessant wedgies all day long... That is quite the upsetting day.

*Planning, I have noticed, eliminates the room for some unlucky things to happen to people. Not necessarily me as the unlucky things that happen to me often have no rhyme or reason behind them. But I am trying to take on planning as a concept to avoid some everyday mishaps and will soon have to post about my first step towards elimination of strife: the day I matched my sock drawer... Stay tuned...

ET, Phone Home

2009-02-05T08:18:00.009-05:00

Today I expect to receive my replacement phone. Replacement because two days ago my phone (bought 8/21/08) turned on and got stuck on the verizon logo. It flashed it actually, as if taunting my every attempt to reset and restart. I am not super abusive to my phones... ok this is sort of a lie. I once threw a phone off the roof I was standing on to the lower roof about 14 feet below in an arching dramatic toss of aggravation but this was after it malfunctioned in the middle of an irate call to a missing contractor. I am abusive but have good intentions and treat phones relatively nicely until they start to malfunction. This is when the throwing kicks in.
This makes the first LG chocolate 3 I have replaced but brought to mind my other cellular devices and the way in which they were replaced....

LG Chocolate Version 1.0:

I have owned three of these bad boys, one getting stuck in the open position...because there is nothing better than buying a phone for its small stylish design and then carrying a double sized bulge in your pocket. "Is that a banana in your....." You get the idea.

One got caught spinning randomly when the wheel was touched or not touched thru any number of screens, options, numbers, messages, pictures.. you name it, it scrolled... Made it awful hard to text or call or answer or well, in general use the phone at all.

And then there was the last straw. The one that pushed me to the Chocolate 3.
I had a demon phone that called people. It called people when it was shut. It called people upon opening it. When you tried to answer an incoming call, it became normal for people to wait up to 15 seconds to listen for answer because I would be maniacally hitting clear in order to stop the new call that was happening over the incoming call. I learned quickly that hitting end hung up both calls. It took over calling people about a month or so before I could update my phone for "free". About one week before the update, it also learned how to text. I owned "The Turk" of cellphones and gave it all away for functionality. Plus, I was worried about Sarah Connor coming after me to destroy it before it could become Skynet....

I don't remember much about the specific name of the phone before the Chocolate Escapades but I do remember it almost breaking in half, causing me to believe a slider phone was much more resilient. This was from overuse, claimed the insurance people. (This was a replacement I received only a month prior.) I dropped one of these in a parking lot. I left one on a train I was riding from Philadelphia to NYC that was headed on to Boston. I lost one in a bar one night. (i love the insurance program Verizon puts out. I always max out. Always.)

At the same time, I had a durable Nextel for work. At a fitness expo we were working to give Keystone Rugby a little greater Philadelphia exposure, I accidentally snapped my phone into its holster a little too strongly. It skittered across the parking lot and slide under a car, falling into the only storm water sewer basin in the entire parking lot. One hour later, a soaked KM, a non-wet RH (who had gone for help or supplies but had found kittens if I remember correctly and sort of forgot to come back for a while) and myself had rescued the phone mostly thru KM's genius, a coat hanger, some string, a pair of plyers and a couple of sticks. It never turned back on and I was told I should have just reported it stolen. The sim card was bad too.

Ah, the memories of phones gone past....

My face is getting better

2009-02-02T14:05:00.003-05:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, the time is drawing near when my skin will be clear....

This will close the facial disaster unless these last few items don't go away and I scar for life. Then we will have a whole new topic to discuss....

Aspiring to be a Proactiv Model

2009-01-28T20:47:00.003-05:00

It appears that the tides may have turned. I promise as soon as most clusters disappear, I will stop posting daily photos of my disgusting face that will need to be burned upon my healing.

A tid bit nippley

2009-01-28T08:22:00.003-05:00

Another good friend, JN aka B, shared this little gem yesterday about her recent email escapades:

"So I’ve been tanning for my friend’s wedding on Saturday. I went topless b/c I don’t want the lines. So I said to my friend that I didn’t want to burn my.... Nips... :) so she told me her fiancé said to put chapstick on them. Which to me- makes perfect sense. So I have been. Then last night, I forgot. OOPS! Well... They hurt a little. So I go to email my friend and her fiancé – who I’ve never emailed, but know he works for the state – as does she. So I take her email address: and put in his initials: .ONLY to get an email saying ‘Brian’s email is There are a lot of Bells that work for the State – you’ve now told some weirdo that you burnt your nips... B/c you forgot chapstick."

Your day could always start out like this, people...and bbell, if you are out there, we hope you at least got a smile at 7AM yesterday morning!

Un-glamour shots

2009-01-28T08:15:00.005-05:00

Last night, my sister lovingly took photos which she emailed to me under the auspicious email title of "Glamour Shots". Glamorous they are not.

Please note that as itchy as they may look, they are actually worse.

Today, however, my forehead appears to have lost all redness and one whole half of my face no longer looks like I was held under duress on a red ant hill and bitten half to death.

Facial schmacial

2009-01-27T08:28:00.005-05:00

I have googled bad facial, facial reaction, facial horror stories, and none of these things have shown me that anyone gets reactions that last for days on end...

My doctor, however, informed me of the the two following outcomes that I might experience due to my new cremes:
1. 2-3 days to go away- best case
2. 2-3 weeks to go away- not so best case

Then, like all good medical professionals, he shared the worst case scenario.

***Eerie music... enter fog....

This one time, I had a lady who had beautiful, flawless skin and went and had a bad facial experience...

***oooooOOOOOOooooooohhhhhHHHH***

And she had such bad acne from the facial that I had to put her on Accutane and she even had some facial scarring....

......fade to black******

Alright, listen up medical community. When you have a patient who has as highly active of an imagination as me, please do not tell us we could end up scarred due to one day of pampering in our measly little lives. And if you can't tell if we are highly imaginative, assume the worst.

Allergic to relaxation

2009-01-26T10:25:00.004-05:00

This weekend I joined 6 others in a spa weekend. It was more of a spa gluttony as the man in charge of the retreat called us "the group who came to OD on spa treatments". In fact, we had sooo many spa treatments that the scrapbooking retreat happening at the same location couldn't book treatments.

We enjoyed such luxuries as hot stone massages and ionizing foot baths.

And when it came time to choose facials, I was so relaxed that I allowed the lady to assist me in choosing. I had never had a facial and informed her that I did have sensitive skin. She gave a list and I chose deep cleansing ($75 when bought seperately as opposed to our package deal) as cleansing and purifying seemed to be theme.

This is my face Sunday morning.

This is my face now.

I have just returned from the dermitologist ($20 copay) who informed me that this may be

A) an allergic reaction ($25 medicine)

2) an acne flare ($30 medicine)

I have also bought a non-irritating soap to be sure my face is clean before my three applications of face creams a day ($10), so I have now paid $75 facial + $ 85 to fix the facial to end up with worse skin than I have ever had in my life. Plus, I am itchy.

I think this means I am allergic to relaxation

Underwear

2009-01-08T09:57:00.004-05:00

We have a friend, DB, who occassionally befalls bad luck. Only to us, instead of it being horrific and tragic, it always seems to lean towards the comedic.

On Monday, at work, DB visited the bathroom only to learn that her underwear had broke. That's right, folks. Broke.

The above represents the type of underwear I think she was wearing. Apparently, these being her favorite brand and style, she had worn them to the point of becoming brittle and when she pulled on them, the side piece tore.

Knowing she had little options, sitting there as she was, she proceeded to tie the broken pieces together. I think the resulting scenario would look something like this MS Paint sketch:

As you can see in the repaired sketch, it appears that approximately 1/2 of one buttcheek would be "free" for the rest of the day. Also, due to the quantity of material needed to "tie" them back together, the resultant panties were a little bit small. In fact, fearing she would never be able to get them back down or up, this trip was the last to the bathroom for the entire day until she returned home.

Obviously, feeling uncomfortable, sure that someone could tell and needing some resolve from outside herself, she emailed her sister to get some feedback. The response:

"Sometimes things happen. I just saw a cow mounting an alpaca and the alpaca looked very uncomfortable."

So ladies and gentleman, I guess that your mom was right. Always wear a good clean pair of underwear when you leave the house.

New Year, New Car, New Blogger

2009-01-05T18:13:00.005-05:00

The other poster on this blog who has been astonishingly unheard from to date sent me the following text this morning:

"So of course i try to start my car this morning to move it out of a 2 hour zone and it doesn't start. And i have apparently maxed out on AAA for this term. Didnt even know you could do that. Go f*** yourself 2009."

I can recognize bad luck from miles away but I met the Devil Car at a much closer range and I tell you that car is some bad mojo.

Last year, her 1996 green Nissan Sentra took her for a ride when the brakes didn't work and she had a small accident that resulted in an estimated minimum $1500 in body damage with an estimated Blue Book value of about the same. Fearing further costs, she acted upon the advice of her family and did not have any work done, nor did she have them look under the hood. Instead, her family acting out of love, compassion, and a misguided sense of direction bought her a car. Her green Nissan Sentra was towed to Western NY. In return, she found herself the new owner of...

EL DIABLO!!

That's right folks. A 1996 white Nissan Sentra with about 80,000 less miles on it.

Thank you Maggie, I will take it from here. Hi everyone, I am the owner of the El Diablo, or "unlucky #2." Upon purchasing El Diablo for only $2200, I thought it was a bargain since a family mechanic had been working on it so I wouldn't have to be swindled by Philadelphia mechanics.

My father graciously drove the roughly 700 round trip journey in one day, and within only a few hours of his departure back to NY, the check engine light lit up. Which made the registration and inspections difficult to get that weekend. The next week I went to get my inspection done with a disclaimer of "I know the check engine light is on, please fix that and then inspect it." Upon its retrievel, I found a bill that seemed a little cheap, but why argue with that?!?! That evening, I was driving home from rugby practice (approximately 11 pm down Broad St.) and when I turned onto Fitzwater, I felt a bump. Of course I nicked the meridian and got a flat tire. I pulled over and proceeded to change the tire due to exhaustion and impatience of AAA. After 2 whistling bike-by offers to help, I realized the lug-nuts were rusted shut much, like they had been on the previous Nissan Sentra. So I ended up calling AAA anyways, which allowed me to finally find a parking spot by my apartment around 1230 AM. The next morning I walked to my car to find a parking ticket (I was only 2 feet past the "Do Not Park Past Here" sign), and I called my fellow-blogger to explain the chain of events. As I drove and talked, I hit a bump, inevitably causing the check engine light to re-light up.

The following is a summary of problems with El Diablo since acquisition on 10/10/08:

Check Engine light STILL on
Air Bag light does not stop flashing
Brake light out (and yes I tried replacing the bulb)
Right side view mirror repeatedly falls out
Cruise Control resets to 5 mph below what is manually set at
Possible battery/alternator issue
Left front headlight slowly falling out
Apparently, no more AAA visits without a COD payment
El Diablo has ruined my driving sanity and is clearly the bus to Hell...anyone need a ride?

P.S. I was told over Christmas that the original 1996 green Nissan Sentra has been repaired for less than the original estimate and is running as good as new. My sister has been given this car for free to drive around college. Merry F'ing Christmas while you're at it.

Day of Doom Kit

2008-12-30T09:40:00.002-05:00

For those unsure of what to get me for Christmas... I found this.

Pants party

2008-12-26T13:59:00.003-05:00

I was deleting old emails from my work email inbox when I came across this little gem...

From: Reed, Margaret
Sent: Thursday, April 12, 2007 3:18 PM
Subject: Another maggie day.. also known as why you can laugh in my face tonite at practice

I was moving drawings today, large gigantic rolls of heavy paper drawings. And lo and behold, I was wearing one of my favorite pairs of work pants, a pair of nice broken in faded green chinos. (can we see where this is going?) They are about 2 years old and get worn to work at least once a week if not more and not just to do office work but out in the field also.
So here we are moving drawings and I bend down to pick up the last set and RRIIIIPPPPP! From the belt loops to the crotch exactly along the seam, my pants split. I am now wearing my fleece black jacket around my waist.
Thank you for listening.
Enjoy your day.
I am going to figure out how to get out the door without half my coat on without anyone noticing.

Just in case you actually thought that this bad luck thing was a recent development or was just related to costly events.

2007 was the year of the pants. Maybe I'll post the most embarassing moment to happen ever... only I don't really get embarassed...

PPA and the Philadelphia Police

2008-12-12T07:22:00.000-05:00

I tried to keep my car break-in posts cop neutral.

But now, I have been driven to the brink. A few nights ago, I recieved a parking ticket for being parked in a No Parking zone for longer than 20 minutes. The ticket itself is not the issue, but let me provide the back story to how I ended up in a spot where I could be ticketed.

For those of you not in the 'iladelph', last week it was raining so hard that the ever resilient KM actually wanted a ride from Drexel so she wouldn't end up soaked in her suit. KM, who often rides without air conditioning in 100 degree weather in her car stuck in Philly traffic, didn't want to be that uncomfortable. That is how wet it was last week.

But I digress, after returning from said "Good Deed" of keeping others dry, there was no parking available near my house. There were parking spaces five blocks away, in fact, there was the exact parking space that I parked in last week where my car was broken into. I am currently boycotting that block. So after a legitimate 20 minutes spent loooking for parking in a five block radius and excluding the break-in block, I decided to risk parking in an no parking zone. I was not blocking the cross walk and was still a good 7 feet from the corner (in Philly it is a mandatory 15).

Because even my illegal spot was still a block and a half away, I found myself walking in draining streets because of people parked on sidewalks. I live on a one way sidestreet. When people park on the sidewalk (ILLEGAL) and on the roadside (LEGAL), many drivers find themselves smashing driver's side mirrors off in an attempt to get thru. Both BS and EB have been victim to this crime while parked LEGALLY on the very street they live. However, on the night in question, no one ticketed the illegal parkers on my street, nor the blue car blocking the fire hydrant several cars away from me.

The police chose my car and my car alone. I will pay this ticket because I due deserve it however, I believe I have become a target due to my tirade against the PPA/Parking Violations Branch.

I have been accused of receiving two tickets on the night of 11/5/08. I only received one. I paid it immediately because I was not 15' from the corner. It was a similar night on 11/5/08 as my most recent ticket however, while that ticket was $41, my most recent was $31..... Supposedly, I was also issued another seperate handwritten ticket. For anyone who lives in Philly, you know that while it is possible to get two tickets for the same violation over the course of a day, it is highly unlikely to receive two tickets for two seperate violations. They just tick off your misdeeds and you pay the fee that adds up. I called the Parking Violations branch to tell them that I had recieved an unpaid ticket letter in error, because....drumroll please.... I have no unpaid tickets. This is when I was told I was issued (AT THE SAME TIME??) another ticket. I have requested a copy of said ticket... still have not received it... no surprise there.

I was issued a court date to fight the still unreceived ticket and I think they put an APB out on my car to ticket it upon sight. Hence, the start of this post.

But my rage is for the following...

All of the tickets in this blog(HANDWRITTEN) were issued by police... less than a block from the street where there were cameras that saw the break-in.... where I can no longer park in good faith due to previously blogged break-in... the street where I sat and waited from 6:20AM to 8:34AM for a cop to show up to take my police report... where I had to be vicious to get the PPA lady to leave my car alone and not ticket it despite the fact that the back window was clearly smashed and that I was standing right there so I could show the police the damage and the location and the fact that there were cameras... where I would sit in a car and give my police report OVER THE PHONE because no officers were sent...

So this post also could have been called "Really good use of police time."

Office Food

2008-12-08T17:02:00.000-05:00

This post is really less about bad luck than about how the generosity of others is going to cause me to not fit into my jeans.

Since the week of Thanksgiving, my office has received:
Three (3) Baskets containing the following:
-Cranberry bog frogs appx 14/box
-Guacamole Tortilla Chips, appx. 4 servings per bag (I "accidentally" ate a bag)
-Really Terrible Salsa (ok that is not the brand name but it is terrible) 1 jar
-Honey Mustard Pretzel Bites (not a chance I will eat that)
-Triple Chocolate Chip Cookies (4 can fit in my mouth at once) appx. 20/bag
-Pumpkin flavored white chocolate covered pretzels (I ate one whole bag myself)
-Bag of Cashews, appx 3 cups/bag
One tin containing the following:
-Brownies, Blondies, and Turtle Brownies each in layers of three and six layers deep in the tin, appx 54/tin (I ate three of them before lunch and we got them at 11:30)

I have no willpower.

Lyme Disease

2008-12-05T12:03:00.000-05:00

I do not have it. Let me get this out there right away.

However, if any of you are like my friend KM who lists ticks as one of her top items of fear, you might want to skip this one.

My friend from good old Historical Victorian Brookville, SM, recently suffered her own special bout with Karma. In a trip to Boston to visit a friend a month or so ago, SM and said friend decided to go skydiving. It is estimated that SM may have spent as much as five whole minutes in the grass upon landing from skydiving. She then wandered over and sat on a bench for an additional potential 30-40 minutes watching others. Under the bench, there was also grass type coverage albeit much shorter than the landing area. Over the next few days, she would suffer fevers and rashes and, thinking it was a spider bite, would visit a clinic where she would later learn she is now the proud parent of lyme disease. They caught it in time in that she is not suffering mental effects from the disease but she can look forward to doctor's visits in the future.

Now, I am not a statistician by any stretch of the word but I have to point out how slim the odds are for having spent 45 minutes in a grassy area in Boston and aquiring lyme disease.

Ticks are typically found in woodsy areas. So let's assume in a given area with a typical tick population that SM could encounter at most 11% of the population during her five minutes in high grass and at most another 8% in the low grass area. So SM could have been exposed to 19% of a given tick population in an area.

Ticks have a three feeding two year life cycle. Egg, larvae, and nymph each take several days. Googling "define several" results in: more than 2 or 3 but not more than many. Doing the same for many results in: 11 or more. Therefore, each cycle above is appx. 4-10 days. So for 1.4% of the tick's life it is a nypmh. Now, 70% of all lyme disease cases are from nymphs. So for the other 690 days of a tick's life, it only has a 30% chance of giving my friend lyme disease. As many as 50% of ticks in a high lyme disease area could carry the disease....

SO... 97% chance that a tick during it's lifetime is CAPABLE of carrying lyme disease and a contact rate of 9.5% due to the fact that only 50% of ALL ticks DO carry lyme disease. Now, 9.2% of ticks that she contacted do have lyme disease. Now take the above graph and the lesser likelihood of contraction in October and November coupled with the fact that 40% of 20,000 cases (the average annual number of lyme disease cases and divide by the weighted average. So with my office mate Matt doing some math on his sprinkler calculator...

Well, the odds are that SM is a victim of knowing me and receiving some of my bad karma.

Update on the break-in

2008-12-05T10:19:00.000-05:00

In the shower this morning, I realized that they also made off with Armor-all wipes. A requirement for the glove compartment of any car that my sister owns, Armor-all should not be confused with windex wipes. Windex cleans glass, Armor-all protects leather and vinyl. I sure hope whoever stole my stuff isn't trying to make a quick buck cleaning windshields with those....

Thanks to everyone who has shown such compassion to my current plight. I am really in quite good spirits about the whole thing now, considering I find it semi-hilarious that the thieves went through all that effort to take Armor-all wipes. Special kudos to co-blogger who has failed to post anything brought over a lovely new tote complete with goodies to try to brghten my day.

(I borrowed my office mate's camera cord. They left my books and hat...)

2 break-ins in less than two weeks

2008-12-04T15:41:00.000-05:00

On Sunday, November 23rd at 10AM, I became the victim of a non-violent car entry. Someone in State College got into my car and tore it apart looking for items to thieve. Regretfully, having lived there allowed me to be lulled into a false feeling of security and I parked behind the placid street I called home for three years. Alas, said thieves found my Garmin, Bri's Sirius reciever, and my ipod player. I wasn't the only one. In fact, the policia who was so nice laughed at how similar his previous police report for the same street was to mine. Laughter when someone is in distress is a great and acquired skill. I feel bad for people. Maybe you get that skill when you get the badge.

On Thursday, December 4 at 6:15AM, I became the victim of a violent car entry. The picture above is indicative of the damage that I came upon as I wandered to my car carrying two bags of fruit, two pairs of shoes, a cup of cereal with a teaspoon measurer because we were out of spoons, my gym bag and keys in my mittened hands. I dropped it all in shock (except for the cereal which I never did eat) when I realized that for the second time in less than two weeks my car had been broken into. $200 later, I am now the proud owner of a newly glazed rear driver's side window. I would load an actual picture but of the damage and the great fix but I believe they may have my camera cord and battery charger. I can't remember if they were in the bag. But since these thieves apparently don't know the thieves from State College, they made off with only my trick or treat tote bag*, about seven purple pens, and my planner. My PLANNER, PEOPLE!! So if I don't come to see you when I said I would, please forgive me. I don't know where I am supposed to be.

*author's note: my bag was not cute christmas. it was dark khaki green with a jack o' lantern that said trick or treat. i cannot find one like it anywhere. even when i google it.

sticking point

2008-11-21T11:26:00.000-05:00

This is my bathroom. I had the unholy desire to mop and thought I would start in the bathroom corner and work my way out. Now tiles floors are typically cold, so we have a few sticky backed rugs. Only, when I removed the first two rugs and went to pull up the last, it didn't come up. Mr. Clean with bleach soaking on all the plastic for two hours got it up....

See if I ever get the desire to mop again....

Crashing down around me...

2008-11-17T07:07:00.001-05:00

"If the automobile had followed the same development cycle as the computer, a Rolls-Royce would today cost $100, get one million miles to the gallon, and explode once a year, killing everyone inside." -Robert X Cringely

I really like this quote because it represents a common issue: the desire of the computer to blow up. I am not saying I am alone in this, just that I have been subjected to it often.

I will be the first to admit that computers don't make a whole lot of sense to me. My dad's computer, if you sign in as him, won't let him view anything with flash or embedded files but sign-in under guest and it works just fine. (??!!??)

But it seems odd that something we pay what would be 198 hours at minimum wage to purchase (aka a whole month's work) is allowed to blow up every few years and we don't throw a conniption about it.

For example, my friend KM to whom the laptop comprises one of her top five most cherished possessions is experiencing the implosion of yet another plastic box of microchips. This is at least her second to go since graduating college. Is she mad? Yes. But does she have any recourse? Not really. Computers aren't expected to live that long....

Take my computer experiences. In college, the server at school crashed, corrupting my ipod on which I was storing my thesis as I had stopped trusting computers and refused to save all of my thesis on any computer due to their propensity to crashing. The previous year I had spent many hours at the forensic lab, trying to coerce the tech team to extract the last four years of my life off the now oversized coaster formerly known as my ibook. The tech team told me I was lucky to have gotten four years out of it.

But even my distrust worked against me, as I found myself piecing my thesis together from various files on three different computer hard drives and back-up cds. I have still not finished my thesis book (I also had a broken hand at the time which is a whole separate post) and still have various pieces of thesis floating about my house in the form of zip disks (obsolete), cd's (scratchable), flash drives (very easy to lose) and a monster hard drive (most likely under-utilized because it kind of intimidates me).

My work computer, a hand me down from my boss because my old one was literally older than the amount of time I have been out of college, has suffered from a new hard drive, had two keys replaced, and about once every two months choosing to show me the blue screen of death followed by the black screen of non-commitance. "Maybe I'll turn back on, maybe I won't", the black screen taunts. "Maybe all your files will be gone or maybe I will work fine again for two more months."

This is an upgrade from the previous who was missing three keys, had had its hard drive replaced twice (once after a week of vacation where I didn't use it because I wasn't even there yet I was blamed for its demise), and who wouldn't allow you to use two office applications at the same time without requiring a restart to save what you had done. *General Note: restarts don't actually save the work you have done. You only luck out if it does that back-up save thing. It only took me twice to catch on to this little quirk...*

And now, with two keys missing (do we see a theme?), my personal laptop which I love, is starting to go. I have replaced the hard drive once. I have reformatted. I have even stopped asking it to edit photoshop files and have admitted that using imovie for a little seven minute movie will take days. I only pray that work and home don't go at the same time....I think I am addicted.

Lost wallets do return

2008-11-13T07:22:00.000-05:00

In my first post I referenced a lost purse and a $600 expenditure just to get to a city to which I already had a ticket....

It all started on Thursday. As per typical, I was running late from moment one, due to traffic on the backroads I would have taken into the city from where I work. I found an alternate route and arrived to pick up my friend JS from the southland appx. 15 min. late. She infomed me that when she had tried to check-in online, it had not let her. I brushed this comment aside, instead choosing to drive in the wrong direction until she corrected me and we headed a mere 20 min. later than original estimates back towards the airport.

Let me make the following things clear. 1. It is not JS's fault we were late. 2. Sometimes I forget how to get places even when I have lived there for years. 3. The majority of streets in the southland are one way.

So after a mini-detour, we were speeding down to the airport and trying to find Expresspark, the parking lot of choice for many of our friends. Recognizing our now narrowing time window and our general lack of directions on the location of Expresspark, we proceeded to head to Economy parking. For those of you also finding yourself in unlucky situations, you will recognize that in lives like ours, if you are a teeny bit late, it is inevitable that there will be a detour or car accident to make you moderately late. If you are moderately late and trying to fly out of town, the parking lots will be full and send you to a satellite lot where the bus will pass you without explanation and you will now find yourself significantly late.

Significantly late means we were to fly at 3:20, board at 3, and therefore be thru security at 2:50. We are a fifteen to twenty minute ride away at this point and it is 2:18. We have not checked in for our flight. Panic begins to creep up my spine but eternal optimist that I am when it comes to impending doom, I ignore it and merrily chatter away to JS about the people we find ourselves waiting with.

Arriving at check-in, because we are significantly late, karma reveals that the line is actually COMPLETELY full to the start of the human fencing maze. JS, also suffering in the past from some horrific travel luck, points out the curbside check-in. A nice man checks us in and hands us papers that say, "Please report to gate and speak to first available agent."

We should have known then, but continuing with our glass half full, we will make it, maybe they want to upgrade us to first class mindset, we head thru security. For our first break in the travel game of death, the line at security isn't too bad. Too bad the line at the gate desk is.

2:46. I know it is 2:46 when we arrived because I texted the co-poster to this site about the fact that we had just heard that everyone in line ahead of us (over 31 people) was also bumped from the flight.

A mere 2 hours later, an irate JS and myself learned the sob stories of others in line: the family who's son, an 8 year old, was booked thru with a seat but the parents were not; the man who's daughter is getting married in the morning; the woman from Rhode Island who's flight to RI had been cancelled at 1PM and she was trying to get a seat on the next flight out, and so on....

Playing bad cop, good cop on the "customer service" aka "I didn't do this and there's nothing I can do to help you" supervisor, we determined that Southwest could get us to Orlando in time to see the end of the game we were to play in THE NEXT DAY. In line, 4 phone calls to other airlines and a mere $250 got us a whole new ticket with United.

We were also awarded $158 refund for our outbound Southwest flight and a $200 voucher bringing our grand total to $358 renumerated for our 2hr 15 minute heart attack and found ourselves with a mere 45 minutes to get to our new United flight.

We arrived at our United gate with relative little fanfare given our previous struggles, picking up SB on the way who happened to be on the same flight, made it thru another short security line, and we were on our way to Orlando.

Fast forward to Monday morning...

Everyone woke up, got into the car and remembered their things from the hotel. We found a gas station to fill up the rental car and despite incredibly poor signage, found the rental car return. We had plenty of time. Enough in fact, to check luggage instead of carrying it all on, to find Starbucks, to purchase a breakfast sandwich and eat it before the first boarding call was sounded. The flight was relatively enjoyable once I put the fear of God into the four year old who was kicking and dropping his tray table attached to my seat and he sat still long enough to fall asleep. In fact, when our bags all arrived within minutes of each other thru bag claim, I thought, "Maybe our bad travel luck was a fluke." JS commented that GR, another friend who was on our return flight must balance us out.

And then the economy parking return bus took 30 minutes to arrive. JS, always ready to call for information, was informed that the 10 minute bus window was in fact an estimate. (Note to PHL: Please don't lie to people. Tell them the bus could be as much as 30 minutes. We will be nicer when we call for information.)

Our creepy bus driver who was more than a little deaf finally dropped us off in the far east known as Satellite Parking and I reached into my pocket for my keys and wallet and.....

No wristlet. None. Not anywhere. Not when we searched my carry-on. Not when I emptied my pockets. Not when i called Orlando airport and Au Bon Pain and Southwest and Southwest Philadelphia. Nothing.

So I closed all my credit cards when I got home. And cried. $358 in the form of a travel voucher, gone. My wicked witch of the east business card holder gone. My drivers license with the photo of me looking like I have no hair due to an unfortunate choice of headband on picture day, gone.

Which brings me to yesterday when contemplating my lost wallet, I decided enough was enough. I was starting this blog to change my fate. So I did. And with my spare credit card which I keep seperate from my others due to the unlucky nature of my life and the fact that it is almost inevitable that wallets will go missing/be stolen/fall into sewer grates (all have happened in the past), I went shopping.

When I left the store, I noticed a voicemail. On the bus, I dialed the 1, entered my code and listened to a slightly confusing message that said....

WE HAVE FOUND YOUR WALLET AND CALL SOUTHWEST IN PHL TO RETRIEVE IT!

So I did. $358 in the form of a travel voucher, there. My wicked witch of the east business card holder, there. My drivers license with the photo of me looking like I have no hair due to an unfortunate choice of headband on picture day, there.

So long story short, my good readers, this blog is already starting to reverse my fortune.

And always keep a spare credit card in case things get stolen/lost/dropped in a sewer grate.

A foray into the unknown

2008-11-12T13:16:00.000-05:00

Hello all....and welcome to my first foray into blogging. This blog is an attempt to clear my karma or chakras or really bad luck depending on your specific beliefs.

The blog itself is a small step towards normalacy or at least properly recording the various twists and turns which keep myself and those around me from finding themselves ever properly predicting what might happen next in our lives. The conception of the blog is rather boring, a joke between two friends about how my unlucky life seemed to be rubbing off on her. But its birth comes at a time when I appear to have rubbed off an someone I have just barely begun to know, causing us to become stuck at an airport buying yet another ticket to get to the place we already held a ticket for because we were turned away from our original ticketed flight. (In case you were wondering, we did get a flight voucher for the amount of our original outbound flight, which I proceeded to lose along with my entire purse before I left the blasted city I paid nearly $600 to get to in the first place.)

The term unlucky and upsetting, used by my college roommates to describe the various debaucles we found ourselves in, begins to scratch the surface of the events which will be described here.

There will be more than one narrator as I appear to have infected multiple people with my particular strain of crazy. But fear not, we will figure out a way to differentiate for those who care because otherwise it will seem like we are repeating ourselves as things that happen to me often seem to befall those around me shortly thereafter.

So welcome, good travelers, to a strange and scary place known as my life....