Courteous Mass Kicked My Bass

It started out innocently enough...a casual email from my friend Patrick, "attached are the details of the Courteous Mass bike ride. Emily is also planning on going - it's a really easy bike ride, so if it sounds interesting, maybe you and Jonathan could plan on meeting us there."

Little did I know it would be the bike ride now known as the "Courteous Mass that Kicked My Bass."

My plan was to join in on the first mini leg of the 5-6 mile route, that would conveniently take me over to Prince, left onto Milledge, and allow me to turn right onto Hill towards the flat easy streets of my house. With my printed out map cut into a small bite-sized morsel, I was ready to bike a whole mile.



"Do you need a map?" asked one of the BikeAthens volunteers.

"No thanks, I have one," I replied.

"Do you know the route has changed? We're going in reverse."

WTF?!? That meant my plan for early departure was canned. Did I dare attempt the entire ride? Since the route was reversed, there was no mini-leg I could choose that would allow me to turn around and find myself home any quicker than the proposed route. Suddenly the grim warnings of my orthopedic doctor were booming, lecturing me on how I should stay in bed 24/7 in a drug-induced stupor or else I'd have my back fused.

"You wouldn't even make it through a beginner's pilates class," I remembered my EX-physical therapist. That memory pissed me off enough to try the entire route.

We peddled our way through downtown, and zipped our way through campus, under the bridge, around the Ramsey Center, onto College Station, then right onto Riverbend.

Then it began -- the realization I might not make it back home without divine intervention. Riverbend Road may not look hilly from the car, but according to my legs and back, it might as well been a mountain. Half way through the hill, I decided I would walk the rest of the hill. Very soon the mass of riders passed us and it was just me and a very concerned Jonathan. We made our way to Milledge and finally joined the rest of the group. Luckily, the rest of the route was flat and pretty uneventful. By the time we made it to Hill, Jonathan and I left the group to make our way home. I laid under the fan with a heating pad under my back for about 30 minutes, marveling over the fact I made it the entire 5-6 mile route. I contemplated taking a pain pill, but opted for the promise of a cold beer.

Update: Patrick thinks the route was actually 8 miles instead of 5-6 miles.

Continuing Education

I've been entertaining the idea of going back to school. Not so much for a degree, rather for the devoted study of one thing and classroom discussion. I'm torn between exercise science (my possible fellow classmates scare me) and religion (again, my possible fellow classmates scare me).

It amazes me what someone can earn a degree in UFO Investigation...

www.flamelcollege.org/programs.htm

Or you can always attend Whore College:

www.ananova.com/news/story/sm_1385068.html?menu=news.quirkies.sexlife

Modern Day Miracle

I find myself contemplating my belief system on a daily basis. Am I Christian, or am I an agnostic trying to cover all of my bases just in case?

Without question, I do believe that good and evil exist, rather than that good and evil are merely perceptions held by different people. I also believe I don't have the capacity to understand the bigger picture, and if there is a God, my human mind couldn't begin to wrap itself around the complexities of His existence. In an attempt to not drive myself batty, on most days I allow my gut-feeling to prevail, and believe there is a God and embrace the essence of Christianity, tring really hard to ignore George W. Bush and the King James preachers of the bible frustrate me. This is what faith is, right? -- believing despite your rational brain screaming, "seriously?!?"

Which now brings me to miracles. I propose that the following article illustrates a modern day miracle. I googled the word, and I'm going with Princeton's defition:

miracle: any amazing or wonderful occurrence

That's enough peeking into my mental panties...on to the article!

Police: Lions free kidnapped girl

ADDIS ABABA, Ethiopia (AP) -- Police say three lions rescued a 12-year-old girl kidnapped by men who wanted to force her into marriage, chasing off her abductors and guarding her until police and relatives tracked her down in a remote corner of Ethiopia.

The men had held the girl for seven days, repeatedly beating her, before the lions chased them away and guarded her for half a day before her family and police found her, Sgt. Wondimu Wedajo said Tuesday by telephone from the provincial capital of Bita Genet, some 560 kilometers (348 miles) west of the capital, Addis Ababa.

"They stood guard until we found her and then they just left her like a gift and went back into the forest," Wondimu said, adding he did not know whether the lions were male or female.

News of the June 9 rescue was slow to filter out from Kefa Zone in southwestern Ethiopia.

"If the lions had not come to her rescue then it could have been much worse. Often these young girls are raped and severely beaten to force them to accept the marriage," he said.

"Everyone in thinks this is some kind of miracle, because normally the lions would attack people," Wondimu said.

Stuart Williams, a wildlife expert with the rural development ministry, said that it was likely that the young girl was saved because she was crying from the trauma of her attack.

"A young girl whimpering could be mistaken for the mewing sound from a lion cub, which in turn could explain why they (the lions) didn't eat her," Williams said. "Otherwise they probably would have done."

The girl, the youngest of four brothers and sisters, was "shocked and terrified" and had to be treated for the cuts from her beatings, Wondimu said.

He said that police had caught four of the men, but were still looking for three others.

In Ethiopia, kidnapping has long been part of the marriage custom, a tradition of sorrow and violence whose origins are murky.

The United Nations estimates that more than 70 percent of marriages in Ethiopia are by abduction, practiced in rural areas where the majority of the country's 71 million people live.

Ethiopia's lions, famous for their large black manes, are the country's national symbol and adorn statues and the local currency. Former emperor Haile Selassie kept a pride in the royal palace in Addis Ababa.

Despite their integral place in Ethiopia culture, their numbers have been falling, according to experts, as farmers encroach on bush land.

Hunters also kill the animals for their skins, which can fetch $1,000, despite a recent crackdown against illegal animal trading across the country. Williams said that at most only 1,000 Ethiopian lions remain in the wild.

The Alsace Chronicles

Wow, I'm just a blogging maniac. It's just about the only thing I can trust myself to do while I'm on 500 mg of loratab and 20 mg of cyclobenzaprine.

How you doin?

Ok, so this really goes under the Germany Chronicles, but I'm not willing to figure out which chapter I am on that, so bah.

To sum up and transport you...it's December 2004, Jonathan and I are in Germany visiting Sherry and Christian. Are you with me?

First off, we all loaded up into Christian's Audi with broken headlight (remember this, because it will be relevant later on) and took the auto-BAHN through the Black Forest, and Baden Baden where people sit nekkid in hot springs (or something to that effect) and even made a pit stop at the barb wired remains of the Maginot Line before we found our way into the beautiful Alsace area. I'm a WWII buff, so the Maginot Line was a biggie for me to even be near, much less gawk at up close and personal.

So we were finally in France. It wasn't an overwhelming difference. Real shutters, brick shingles, wide-eyed and amazed Jinny. Sherry explained that the roses on the "Welcome to *insert French town name*" signs represented how aesthetically pleasing the town was by some French group that has the authority to judge that kind of thing. Some were 2 rose towns, while others were 3 or 4. Since I was in France, therefore impressed by their real wooden functional shutters and non-asphalt shingles, they were all 4 rose towns to me. Then came the almost climatic part -- the vineyards. We drove past an insane amount of vineyards, weaving their way up and down the foggy hills. I was in a Monet watercolor...bliss!

So we arrived, and I'm chagrined to report that I cannot remember which town we actually setup basecamp, so let's just leave it at we were in the Alsace.

SO I started this post on June 3rd and now it's the 14th...let's publish this pup and I'll continue later.

Roll coming attractions!

Stay tuned...there's a rude Frenchman and an odd police officer on the next installment of THE ALSACE CHRONICLES!

dog-cat

Yes, it's true. Bruce walks on a leash, and it was totally intentional.

Somewhere during his leash training, Bruce wised up that dogs walk on leashes, therefore, he must be a dog. I'm not quite sure how he came across this conclusion -- too many late night infomercials, talking to the neighborhood pets? Anyway, Bruce is 100% convinced that's he is a dog, and with the exception of using his litterbox, here is a list of his other "dog-like" characteristics.

• Understands and obeys the command "come." Even if you are on the opposite side of the house, he will come and...


• Understands and obeys the command "sit." Once he comes, you have to point to where you want him to sit or else he thinks you're crazy.


• Understands and obeys the command "back up." This is especially useful when he's near the wide open door leading out to our heavy traffic street.


• LOVES to play fetch. When we throw his toy, he runs after it and brings it back to us like a hyperactive golden retriever. Bruce never gets tired of fetch.


• Follows us around the house. He has to be nearby, and wherever we sit, stand, or lay, he must lay on the floor near us. He sometimes likes to lay near our lap, but has yet become a lap cat. Bruce has yet to realize that he's suppose to ignore us and act superior.


• He barks. No, just kidding, but he hasn't hissed EVER. I've never owned a cat that hasn't hissed.

Joe Nathan and Christian Rock!

Joe Nathan and Christian Rock!
Originally uploaded by sherryneal.

20 glasses of wheat beer

2 awesome friends

3 hours of American rock.

I miss Germany.

Redundant

Main Entry: stun
Inflected Form(s): stunned; stun·ning
Definition: to overcome especially with paralyzing astonishment or disbelief

Main Entry: surprise
Inflected Form(s): sur·prised; sur·pris·ing
Definition: to cause astonishment or surprise

From last week's Terry College FYI:

SECOND QUARTER STAFF AWARDS PRESENTED: Jinny Potter and J.K. McMullan were the recipients of the Terry College's Outstanding Staff Awards for the second quarter of 2005. Dean George Benson presented each with a plaque and a check for $500 at a reception held in their honor Tuesday, April 26, in Brooks Hall.

Potter, a web developer with the Office of Information Technology, received the Terry Achievement Award. She came to work at UGA in 1997 and has worked for Terry since 2001. On receiving the award, Potter said she was "very, very stunned and still very surprised" and thanked her colleagues in OIT for enabling her to do her job. McMullan, an academic advisor in the Undergraduate Programs Office, received the Terry Community Building Award. One nominating letter commented on McMullan's "tremendous breadth of knowledge" about the admissions process and the high regard given by her peers. McMullan started working for the Terry College's Dean's Office in 1987 for former Dean Al Niemi.

*sigh*

On the bright side, at least I didn't say, "uhhhh...I'm very, uhhh, very, ummm, stunned, and, um, uhhh still very um, um surprised."

Lumbar Spondylolisthesis

According to my orthopedic doctor, I have lumbar spondylolisthesis. After seven months of almost unbearable hip pain, I'm not sure what I was expecting the doctor to say to me. Perhaps something along the lines of, "just a muscle spasm you weak baby, buck up and go get a massage!" Instead, he informed me my lifelong battle with lower back pain was the culprit of my mysterious hip pain, and my lower back pain was actually not just weak back muscles, rather Lumbar Spondylolisthesis, which essentially means that one of my lower vertebra is slipping over another vertebra causing pressure on the nerve.

Ok, so I'm thankful I don't have arthritis, or missing cartiledge, but I can't help being slightly down that it seems my body has a slight "Made in China by sweatshop babies" quality to it. Ironically, Lumbar Spondylolisthesis is quite popular among Asians.

The really good news is that my doctor isn't surgery happy. In fact, he's amazed at how well I've managed my pain (go yoga!) so we're going to try physical therapy. Words like invasive, removal, and fusion are still ringing in my ears when he spoke to me briefly about my surgery options. Oh, and the recovery time is a speedy 6-9 months.

For more information, and images of x-rays that look exactly like mine, visit:

http://www.drdillin.com/education/basics_lspondy.htm

Mopy out

New favorite racial remark

"Look out, it's plaid and shanghai!"

Comment made to Jonathan and me last weekend as we attempted to walk around a herd of frat boys.

Jonathan was wearing plaid. I guess I had that Chinese city look about me.

An incident with the chicken

Hmm, "an incident with the chicken" sounds like a book title. I'll have to keep it in mind when I write my life's work. On to the blog!

Last weekend I threw Jonathan a birthday party. Knowing that all invitees were bonified meat eaters, I bought 20 lbs of animal flesh (for grilling, not ritualistic sacrifice).

Allow me to digress. A few years ago, a friend of mine gradually became a vegetarian. Dinner by dinner, she began not eating beef, shrimp, pork, and then finally chicken. I didn't find out about the chicken until after I cooked a meal that starred the poultry beast. I guess I should have asked before inviting her for dinner, but dropping certain foods from ones diet isn't a point of discussion that comes up regularly when you live two hours away from each other.

So I had to ask why, had she decided to become a bonified vegetarian because of her love of animals?

Her response, "I was cutting chicken the other day, and I had an incident with the chicken."

"An incident...did it start walking again? Were there extra parts? wtf is an incident?" I asked.

She gave me one of those looks that screamed "back off". "Let's just leave it at it being an incident with the chicken."

So I left it.

Fast forward to last Friday, me in my kitchen with 20 lbs of meat before me. After cutting about 5 lbs of meat, I started feeling lightheaded. 5 lbs of meat later, my stomach began churning. All I could think about was the fleshy texture under my fingers, and the smell of raw meat filling my nostils. 5 lbs of chicken later, I had to shoo my cat away because I felt like I was going to hurl at any moment. The final 5 lbs of chicken, I knew it had happened -- I had just experienced an incident with the chicken.

I didn't eat much at the party, and I've been eating more veggies to supplement my lack of meat. I haven't sworn meat off completely, but I am certainly not forgetting my incident with the chicken anytime soon.

P.S. My blogger spell check doesn't know the word blog. How odd.

Dust

I'll go ahead and preface this posting with the following disclaimer, "yes I know I'm a freak."

I have completed the tedious task of dusting off my desk and all of its contents. Somehow anything I own or inhabit, regardless of age, accumulates about 1/8 inch of dust every month to the point when I shuffle papers around, mini-dust bunnies begin an odd rendition of "Swan Lake." I find myself looking at other people's desks, mentally comparing the dust amounts. I can't decide if I'm disturbed by how aware I am of their dust, or the fact that many people's desks seem to lack dust. I was in a friend's office the other day, and to my horror, their nick nacks were totally dust free. My compulsion drove me to run my fingers across quickly to confirm. My finger could not turn up even the tinest bit of lint. What gives?!?! Am I just a dust magnet? Is it my body wash? Have others struck a deal with the devil? If I took up bubblegirl life, would I mystify scientists by being the very first bubbleperson with dust in her bubble?

I wonder...

Remembering Greg

Today Greg Whitlock would have turned 35 today. I am sad, reflecting on my own selfishness that he's no longer with us. I find if still surreal that I just placed an order for a "memorial cake" for the dedication of the UGA Intramural Fields batting cages that were constructed in his honor.

Greg was one of the most sincerely good hearted individuals I've ever known. It was a privilege to know him.

The Germany Chronicles, Chapter 1: The Welcome Wagon, Part 2

Colder than Athens? -- yeah, whatever! After about 20 motor butt Jinny steps, I was soon regretting all the new thermal underwear I had layered on my body. My perspiration was soon forgotten when I finally turned around to glance back at the enormous train station we just exited. It was my favorite kind of architecture -- old and well built. No plastic, no gaudy electronic signs, and no vinyl! I quickly started furiously snapping photos like a Sports Illustrated photographer at a basketball game (with the exception of no balls and nothing remotely animated).

As we slowly made our way into the center of the city, I continued to snap more and more photos -- "oh strange pigeon in cigarette butts", "wow, lifesize toy police car", "lookee, weird tree!" Everything, including the air, was suddenly camera-worthy. I eventually reeled myself in, remembering that I hate tourists, and worse yet, I hate looking like a tourist when I had spent hundreds of dollars on black dressy clothing to "blend" in. With map hidden in pocket, we began our search for *really* old structures. We soon found ourselves in front of a massive cathedral, complete with baby heads and grapes made out of stone. Snap, snap, snap, I made sure to capture every interesting inch of the cathedral. Snap, snap, snap, "wow, that door is HUGE and look at the age of that wood!" Snap, snap, snap, "look, more baby heads!" Finally tired of snapping photos of the cathedral, I convinced Jonathan to stand in front of the cathedral (he hates looking like a tourist too) so I would have proof that we actually flew to Germany instead of taking a week off work to watch the Jerry Springer marathon. Then *he* happened...our true German welcome wagon. Let's call him Hans for the fun of it. Our tourist ways quickly tipped Hans off immediately. He saw through our black clothing and quickly offered us every tourist's wet dream, "Picture? Together? I take!"

Hans overly broad smile revealed several missing teeth, reminiscient of a Waffle House waitress. His attire of flannel and ripped blue jeans added to his style of "hi, I'm your first German vagrant!"

"No thank you, we're fine."

"Yeah, picture!" He moved in closer.

I silently thought, "Is this guy about to steal my camera? Crap, it's really work's camera. I'm sure the state of Georgia will understand how I willingly handed over my camera to a homeless German man."

"No really, thank you but no thanks." I answered.

Jonathan had gone into Wing Chun mode and had verbally retreated, gathering his kung fu forces in case Hans attacked.

This verbal banter continued for several more minutes, until finally my fear dissipated, with slight irritation replacing it.

I had more really old stuff to see and this man was in my way.

"Yeah, fine, ok, here." Jonathan and I stood just out of reach of the camera in case he ran.

Snap.

With a big non-tooth grin, Hans proudly handed our camera back to us, nodding with glee.

"Thank you," Jonathan and I said, relieved our encounter was almost over.

Hans nodded again, and then proceeded to walk past us towards the corner of the cathedral we were a few yards from. Without warning, Hans unzipped his pants and revealed little Hans to the elements.

"Whoa!" Jonathan and I quickly rounded the corner, a little shocked that Hans was peeing on the cathedral that was the center of my photo essay. Unwillingly to let Hans dissuade me, I slowly began to continue snapping more photos of the other side of the cathedral. Then I heard it...

"Picture? Together? I take!"

*groan*

"No, really, we're fine. No picture!" I quickly said, shaking my head hoping that it was somehow a universal sign for "hell no."

Hans quickly removed the camera from my hands, and motioned for us to once again stand in front of the cathedral. My germ phobia flared, as my stomach realized that the other side of the cathedral didn't have a sink and antibacterial soap facilities and the man who just seconds ago touched his...you know what I mean.

Snap.

Hans handed me back my camera, beaming with pride.

"Thanks," I said, trying hard not to obsess over the Hans germs I knew were rapidly reproducing on my camera.

Jonathan laughed. There would be no more pictures until I found disinfectant.

It's a boy!

Everyone, meet Bruce Lee Potter.

Yes, Jonathan and I finally took the plunge and we're now proud parents of a pouncing baby boy of 8 months. I can't help but gush about how he's all love and without an ounce of haughty hissy cat attitude. Plus, isn't he a beauty?

Jonathan had blonde hair too when he was a baby.

The Germany Chronicles, Chapter 1: The Welcome Wagon, Part 1

After a pleasant 8 hour flight filled with free wine, free movies, and free food, Jonathan and I found our sleep-deprived shells in the spacious Frankfurt airport. We somehow found our way onto a bus, that led us to our luggage, and then finally to the train station where we desperately searched for the extra large lockers Sherry promised we'd find. We found them...all very much in use by someone other than us, and after shlepping around way too much luggage, we made a solemn vow to never again bring more than two bags with us to a foreign country. We eventually found a locker and managed to stuff our luggage in, and then it was onto our next mission -- call Sherry. We assumed using the pay phone would be easy enough, but after inserting a few Euros into the slot, I found myself in the most stressful phone call I've ever made. Literally, for each 10 seconds that passed by, the pay phone indicator kept ticking away my money in increments of 10 cents. It was akin to seeing a large glass of water tipping over and that urge you feel to grab a paper towel and wipe it up. I managed to get the pertinent information I needed from Sherry just before my time ran out and the pay phone cut me off without an audio warning.

My irritation continued as we found ourselves in the Frankfurt Haupthbahnhof. The token machines were somewhat in English, but not really, which was more irritating if they were entirely in German. The lack of sleep exacerbated the situation, and had me feeling like an extra fiery Kung Pao Asian. After finally finding a human employed by the train station, we managed to buy tickets and board the train that would carry us to Frankfurt Au Main. My alienation soon began to dissipate once we were on the train, but I still felt like an interloper ready to be kindly asked to leave.

New Year's Resolutions

I've added yet another new year's resolution to my list, although I wonder if I can technically call it a list when there are only two items on it...but I digress.

New Year's Resolution #2: Instead of sitting in a chair at work, sit on a balance ball.

OK, so if you're not laughing yet, you are obviously suffering for the inability to imagine this scenario. Picture a 5'2" Asian, tail wobbling around on a big purple balance ball, barely within eyeline of her computer, typing away.

Are you laughing now?

So in case you're wondering, no, I have no been recruited into a new aged hippie cult, nor have the Georgia budget cuts caused a lack of office chairs. I have just been realizing more and more that my career has me sitting on my tail way too much. Near the end of the day my lower back is aching, and this comes from someone who takes yoga twice a week and sees the chiropractor once a week. So in an attempt to challenge my weak abs and force myself to hold correct posture throughout the day, I've brought my purple balance ball to work. My abs ache, but my lower back doesn't, so I'd say I may be on to something. I don't plan on bringing my ball to meetings, nor keep my door wide open for all to see. I am not attempting to become the circus freak show at UGA. We'll see how long I can maintain a professional environment with my big purple ball. Perhaps dressing up in a black suit everyday would help balance it out.

Speaking of resolutions, I'm curious how many of you have made and actually kept your resolutions? I never make resolutions on January 1st, instead, it's within the first 2-3 months, a continual working draft. I'm happy to report that I've kept four resolutions:

1. Quit smoking -- after sustaining the habit for five years, 1-2 packs a day, I have hesitantly moved myself from the category of smoker to recovering smoker. I doubt I'll ever be a non-smoker (unless your my insurance company) since I miss it terribly. I'm in that romantic phase of fondly remembering smoking in my first NYC bar in Manhatten, and smoking a clove with some chickory coffee and beignets in New Orleans. I have to remind myself on a monthly basis that smoking is a horrible habit that took me a long time to shake. Resolution duration: 6 years

2. Take the stairs -- Unless I'm in an unfamiliar place, I always take the stairs. Even if it's hot, or I'm tired, or I'm lifting something heavy, I now take the stairs. Resolution duration: 3 years

3. Curb caffeine -- You may not believe me, but I was drinking about 12 cups of coffee a day, in addition to any tea or soda that contained caffeine. In my defense, my allergist had me on *ten* different medications. Add that to some other medical conditions, and my brain just wouldn't function without caffeine. I dumped my super large coffee cup (which held about 4 cups) and stopped visiting Starbuck's (their larges are about 4 cups as well). Over the years I've whiddled it down slowly, from 8 cups, to cold turkey, then back to 8 cups, then to 6 cups, to 4 cups. I'm now averaging 1-2 cups of caffeine (not just coffee), and sometimes splurge and have 3 cups if I'm on vacation and I need a boost at the end of the afternoon. Resolution duration: 2 years

4. Be friendlier to morning people -- I am not a morning person. I have a theory that the part of my brain that is patient and friendly, awakens appoximately 2 hours after the rest of me wakes up. I do not strive to be a morning person, but at least now I no longer plot their demise when they attempt a conversation with me. I no longer glare whenever someone enthusiastically questions me about my plans for the day. Ok, almost always. Resolution duration: 3 years

What resolutions have you kept?

The Northern States

The Northern States -- also known as anything north of Tennessee, since most of Virginia lacks the percentage of rednecks Georgia has.

I'm fresh from my NJ/NY trip. As if NJ/NY wanted to impress me, it snowed the morning after I arrived. I felt like I accidentally stepped into a Pepperidge Farm commercial, minus the Milano cookie smell. Then to further dazzle me, the weather was actually warmer than it was in Athens. I found myself stepping out with narry a jacket or gloves. I'm beginning to think that winter in the south being warmer than the north (or even Germany) is a big myth. I have yet to experience almost frozen toes, and numb fingers outside of Athens, Georgia, where to my chagrin, I have to wear thermal underwear under my polar fleece Santa-colored puffy pants that I know makes my husband's heart skip a beat. I mean, who doesn't love a lady that's layered in polar fleece? ;-)

Anyway, weather aside, my trip to the north was fabulous. I drank my first Cosmo at my first swank NYC restaurant, before my first Broadway show. I fed Central Park ducks (some that were overly hostile) a real NYC pretzel on my way to MoMa, to see the very famous and very fabulous Starry, Starry, Night. I already miss the smell of the snow-kissed pines, and the buzz of the city, but I must admit, there's no place like home. Especially if I move to Germany.

A New Yearish Resolution

The Scene: New Year's Eve, 40 Watt Club, and me and hundreds of townies...a run in with Ed, serving up a vanilla bean epiphany: I rarely pleasure read because my nose is buried in IT books.

The Realization: My brain is going to atrophy if I don't feed it something other than IT and nytimes.com. Once upon a time I read three books a month while going to school and holding down two part-time jobs.

The Resolution: Read at least six non-IT books this year.

The Details: I cannot count a book that I have already read. I must choose 1 of each from the following categories--

1. unread book on my shelf (probably from Jonathan's collection)
2. pop-culture hyped book (e.g. Harry Potter or the Da Vinci Code)
3. non-fiction
4. classic (e.g. A Tale of Two Cities)
5. how to or subject based book (e.g. how to garden or intro to psychology)
6. nytimes bestseller

Any suggestions on what should go on my list to read besides #1?

The origin of baggy pants

I have a theory that overly baggy pants originated during the days of "Please Hammer don't hurt 'em". Although all of the boys I see running around with their pants crouch down to their shins will never admit that the great M.C. may have fathered their fashion sense, I stick by my theory. However, my theory does not explain how one can comfortably get through their day in such ill-fitting attire. How can you not get extremely annoyed with the sensation that your pants are falling off? At first I theorized that perhaps they were not as baggy as I thought, but I mistakenly walked in on a baggy pants subject as he was unloading his vehicle, and he quickly had to hike his pants back up before I mocked his tighty whities.

If you have any theories, please post. I'm hoping to publish my theory to the masses.

Oklahoma was so much easier

Playing "Square dancer number #2" in Oklahoma! was such a much easier acting job that outgoing, self-assured web developer presenting in front of a crowd of peers. I'm still alive, and I can't say I remember much of what I said or did other than sweat like fried chicken under tin foil at a church supper. I find it interesting that the majority of the population thinks I'm an outtie (extrovert). I remember some self-help infomercial (the guy with huge teeth) that if you keep acting like an extrovert, one day you'll wake up and suddenly be an extrovert. So far I keep waking up with the same insane fear that I have absolutely nothing to say to anyone, and all parties around me will ask the nagging question, "is something wrong, you are quiet today???"

So back to the presentations...I guess it went decently, because someone from Emory approached me with the information nugget of the need of a web coordinator for Emory. Terry has chosen to hire me for my current position, so I doubt I'm interested, but it was nice to hear.

Moment of zen: I woke up in my daily morning panic around 4am, and decided to take a walk. It was foggy, chilly, and devoid of humans. About 30 minutes into the walk I came upon two deer. We exchanged a few stares, and continued with our silence uninterrupted.