Menace To Society

so yesterday when i mentioned to huy that i had a date, he said something along the lines of THANK GOD. followed with:

any guy willing to take you out is a winner in my book. he's like a wingman to all of society. taking you off the market so the rest of us can get the good ones. mighty mighty wingman. taking one for the team so your buddy can live the dream.

WOW. the whole male race needs a sacrificial wingman to protect themselves from me. in that case...

dear men:
i require a tall, brown-eyed boy with several advanced degrees, passion for an obscure hobby, and an amazing sense of humor.
someone who thinks it's hott that i have an immense vocabulary, can't stifle a laugh, care more about college football than fashion, and sometimes forego a shower and just jump in the pool to disinfect myself instead.
deliver this to me, and the rest of you are off the hook.
<3 evil overlord kelley

despite all of my apparently obvious flaws, i am a damn good receptionist. it's probably the most hilarious job i've ever had... kelley in heels and mascara next to the switchboard repeating "good morning, PMCS, how may i direct your call?" over and over again. the people who call are amazingly ignorant. i have had to explain to several irate callers that although the sun may be high in the sky on the east coast, this is pacific time. don't be upset that someone isn't waiting at their desk for your call before 7AM. and when the boss' wife -- who apparently is quite a character -- called yesterday, i had to ask her to repeat herself after jerking the phone away from my ear in an attempt to avoid severe hearing loss from her 150+ decibel screech. when i asked her to hold please i heard her say "who the hell do they have answering the phones over there?" let's face it -- customer service (aka: taking crap from people) is not my forté. so its funny to pretend.

inbetween calls -- because the phone rings non-stop for about 5 minutes of every hour and then goes dead -- i troll the internet. so far, i have caught up on all my college football news (FYI -- clemson's QB cullen harper is 1 of only 6 of the top 100 nationally-ranked QBs that has not yet thrown an interception. i love clemson, but am smart enough not to get my hopes up that we'll win the poll), attempted to research potential 2008 presidential candidates (still hopelessly deadlocked, but confusion is better than apathy), and immersed myself in a century's worth of obscure urban legends & conspiracy theories (for example, in 1999, diazien hossencofft used tales of reptilian overlords, youth serums, a cure for cancer, cat people, and goverment-engineered superkids to persuade his girlfriends to give him money. then he talked his main girlfriend into murdering and eating his ex-wife. not surprisingly, diazien has a big curly mullet). i actually have to read PMCS off of the phone every time it rings because i forget where i am.

First Impressions

i think when you get to be a certain age -- like 25 -- you stop meeting so many new people all the time and you forget how you come across to them. then when you're back in a new place meeting new people once again, phrases like "emotionally crippled" start to creep themselves accusatorily into conversations with the roommate you've known for 3 days. i prefer the term "private." my bartender at friday happy hour told me he'd never seen a girl that was more fanatical about college football. fanatical is a pretty strong word (defined: possessed with excessive, irrational zeal; rabid) -- what's wrong with "spirited"?!? i even had a boy whisper in my ear conspiratorily, "you know, you're kind of a bitch." that's a tough one to argue. but as my own attorney, i'd separate "bitchy" out into some more flattering adjectives like honest, loyal, confident, bold, realistic, resolute ...

of course i laughed at these descriptions of myself. partly out of respect for someone who calls it like they see it. but mostly because they're true -- they're just not dressed up the way i like and the way i'm used to hearing them.

in other news, i spent the morning hiking around pinnacle peak in scottsdale. as i should have expected, the weather was unbelievably gorgeous. yep, just me and the stepford wives getting some fresh air. i didn't really fit in with all those blonds in their perfect mascara and coordinated workout dubs -- 1/2 trophy wives jogging along with their not-so-perfectly tanned asses hanging out the back of little bitty shorts (enough so that it was clear that the rays of the tanning bed did not reach the crease where their butt and thighs meet), and 1/2 volvo-driving soccer moms, hoofing it with distressed-looking kids strapped into complicated harnesses on their backs and fronts and making playdates on their cell phones half-way along the trail. and i didn't even brush my hair or tie my shoe laces before i raced out of the house at 6:30 AM to beat the heat and the traffic on the 101. i guess i didn't realize i needed to impress the trails & cactuses & big blue sky...

Call Me Fatass

here's a picture of my new home from its highest peak: camelback mountain.phoenix may just be a big ugly city, but it is surrounded by mountains and even has some random ones in the middle. and this one kicked my ass.

i will never make the mistake of thinking i'm in pretty good shape ever again. i mean, i'm not anthony famiglietti (although he is my super-secret boyfriend), but i run a lot, i like it, and i can do it (slowly) for a very long time. last time i went to the doctor, my pulse was 50, which means that my heart is nice and strong. i read in my tour book that lots of local people run up and down camelback. i wasn't going to run it (i'm too klutzy, plus i already did 4 miles this AM) but to me, that meant it couldn't be that bad. INCORRECT.

if there is a thin line between hiking and rock climbing, i witnessed it today. the trail was an almost vertical pile of rocks. some places even had hand railings and chain-link fences to keep you from teetering over the edge. there were tons of people out there though despite the strenuous terrain, and i did see many of them running. i stopped to let one guy go past and noticed he had a thermometer, the kind that you stick in your ear, attached to his pack. i guess so he can know instantly if he's overheating. another guy passed me while i was on the way down -- he continued to the top, turned around and passed me again while i was still going down, then went up again and passed me for a third time while i was still going down. he goes up and down at least 3 or 4 times a day.

BUT the weather was gorgeous -- sunny & blue skies -- i made the 2 1/2 mile round trip in a couple hours and am now attempting to never use my legs again. at least until next week -- maybe i'll make camelback a weekly challenge until i can do it back-to-back 5 or 6 times. although, it looks more like a camel laying on his back, wishing he were dead/at the all-you-can-eat ice cream parlor to me. which is how i feel right now, only less majestic.

and in other news, on my drive home, a real live tumbleweed rolled into the road in front of me. i actually said outloud: "are you f-ing kidding me?" i'm not sure i even believed tumbleweeds existed, let alone that they could disrupt traffic. is it safe to hit those things in your car? i was a real tourist and slowed down and gave it a good stare down, wishing i had my camera in my hand as i drove around it.

PB + J = <3

i have the greatest roommate. so far, 90% of our conversations have revolved around the fact that i am white and think a peanut butter sandwich is a perfectly acceptable dinner. secretly, i know huy (pronounced hweee, i think -- i'm not very good at saying in without raising my voice an octave) loves my pink heart sandwich cutter. and he is also in love with my bright pink dishes and plastic animal-shaped silverware. side note: unfortunately, noticeably absent from these photos is my plastic skull mug that is a perfect accessory to heart-shaped dinner. a picture is forthcoming. and thanks kim.

if huy's not scared off by my first night here, i don't think i'll be getting my written notice to vacate anytime soon. first, we watched a special on conjoined twins on the national geographic channel and i was NOT very sympathetic or understanding or polite or any positive adjective regarding their plight. especially the two 45-year-old women who were connected at the forehead. the leg-less one sat on a stool, while the big fat one pushed her around. and the fat one destroyed their collective cholesterol with her bad habits but always got to face the table whenever they were eating.

then, about a half-hour after i finally dragged my zombie-ed ass to bed, i had a dream that my mom was backing over me with an 18-wheeler ... which caused me to scream at the top of my lungs. huy was pretty understanding that his new roommate might be a psycho with disturbing dreams where family members attempt to kill her -- and he thought i'd just fallen out of bed haha.

other great things about huy: he rewired his whole car. (twice because he messed up the first time. :) the only decoration in the living room is a spiderman pillow. he doesn't mind taking pictures of me cutting my peanut butter sandwich into hearts. he has helped expand my vocabulary to include phrases like ghost riding the whip. and he is a clemson football fan ! although i'm not sure he realizes this yet.

next week i start a temporary job as a receptionist -- that's 7 years higher education put to good use -- while i continue looking for a job. yippy. obviously i have some untapped skills -- i can type 100+ word per minute with 0 mistakes. however, i performed miserably on a test of microsoft word.

Approximately 2211.3 Miles Later

i'm happy to be welcomed into the greatest state ever but exhausted from my 36-hour straight, flat ride over middle america.
driving across the country is often portrayed as an adventurous, life-altering activity. however, i can tell you there is nothing glamorous about arkansas. and nothing much going on anywhere else on interstate 40... there weren't even any giant roadside attractions to tempt me off the beaten path.

BUT i did enjoy some of the signs. in texas, i was reminded to drive friendly, and in new mexico, i was warned that gusty winds may exist. an interesting choice of words...
also i saw my first truck-O-mat in tennessee which still makes me laugh. lots of truck washes on 40, but only one truck-O-mat.

and FYI: nashville smells like mothballs. i don't have an unusually acute sense of smell, but i do have a strong smell-association complex. a well-tuned smell-memory. one of our hall closets at home had mothballs in it and still stinks even though mom threw them out ages ago. i HATE the smell and hold my breath anytime i have to open the door to get a new roll of toilet paper. i can understand why moths are turned off by them. also, oklahoma city smells like a rice box. (you know, like a sandbox with rice in it instead. we had one when i was in kindergarden.) weird.

T Minus 3 Days

it's almost time to hit the road ... only three days till my 32 hour drive to arizona begins! at least 25 of those hours will be spent on the same road -- I-40 -- which stretches all the way from knoxville, TN to flagstaff. i'll be passing over the smoky mountains while the leaves are changing and through 3 new states i've never seen -- arkansas, oklahoma, and new mexico -- all of which i'm sure offer beautiful, entertaining views from I-40. at least it will be easy to garnish up some frustration, the better to belt out 32 hours of punk ballads with. i'm criming my sister's car while she travels to australia and new zealand (as tara said: very piratey) which is covered in hippie bumper stickers. i've actually approached her car to find strangers standing behind it, reading the stickers for entertainment while sipping coffee or eating ice cream cones.

BUT she did let me remove the michigan sticker -- no self-respecting southern college football fan could allow that, especially after their recent (& deserved) ass-kickings. this was after i emptied it of all the science books, plastic beads, sticks with sentimental value, and purple rubber gloves. who knows.

i hate packing, so usually i wait until the last moment and throw everything i like into a bag while i'm combing my hair on the way out the door. because of this, i usually end up with a bag full of fun clothes that clash miserably and just wear my sister's sweatpants. however, i am doing a little bit of planning ahead -- i've already started packing things and i still have 3 days !! (more a product of my unemployment than any type of burning initiative) -- and its kind of a fun game to see just how much you can smash into a small space. side note: when i start complaining that i somehow made it to arizona with only a small fraction of my bikini collection, remind me that the rest of it is tucked into the open spaces of my spongebobopoly game.

Speranza Ti Adoro

sadly, italian tenor, luciano pavarotti, died this week. during my final year of undergrad, when punk began to hit a little too close to home, i discovered pavarotti's ti adoro in a tiny used bookstore, and i bought the last copy right out of the store's CD player. the fact that the lyrics are essentially meaningless to me (having studied russian in college and a few words of spanish in high school) makes the album all-the-more enjoyable -- no sloppy words to interfere with his amazing voice.

also sadly, i received this news during my morning commute while listening to the howard stern show. (maybe not the most reliable news source, but the things worth noting always seem to earn comment on the show.) according to howard, during the first 6 years of pavarotti's training, he stunk. read: he performed poorly at small, unsuccessful shows in rinky-dink towns for 6 years. when he developed some problem with his vocal cords, he decided to give it up. however, after this point when there was no pressure to perform, or perform well, his problem completely went away and he became an opera superstar.

then robin claimed that the same is true for her -- she's a really awesome singer in the shower, but not in front of people. howard proved at least the second half of robin's story by playing an old karoake tape of her singing sheryl crow's if it makes you happy. then he launched into his own rendition of italian opera, which was very memorable. needless to say, the moment of awe -- that pavarotti, and the world, may have missed out on something amazing had he not failed and given up -- passed quickly. but it's a lesson i will keep in the back of my mind as i move on to something new.

RIP pavarotti.