You know what's wrong with "lost pet" flyers? Lack of follow-up. I want to know if Oscar the cat was ever found, or if the puppy those hippies downtown didn't put on a leash (because, presumably, all creatures deserve to be free) ended up getting crushed by a car like I predicted. I am addicted to watching Animal Precinct, and they always provide me with closure: That dog died from starvation, and here's the asshole responsible, going off in handcuffs. This dog got its leg amputated but now has a happy new home. Stuff like that. But these lost posters, they just hang around on telephone poles and parking signs until the tape deteriorates and they fall off in the rain. It's very unsatisfying.

Speaking of telephone poles, I had to go to Hadley this morning, and several crews of electricians in those bucket-ladder trucks (I'm sure there's a name for them, but I'm not a five-year-old boy, so I don't know what it is) appeared to be connecting the power lines in the new row of poles on Rt. 9. They're widening the road there, you see, which means the telephone poles that once were snug against the roadway had to be moved back about 8 feet. So for months there's been a double-row of poles and wires. And now, progress!

It's spring, and in the spring I always want to 1. buy a house or a condo, and 2. get a dog. So far I haven't taken any steps in either of these directions, which is probably a very good thing. But it doesn't mean I won't waste some time on Petfinder (look at this guy! Or this cutie, or this one. Ow, my heart hurts...) or on the MLS searches, doing a little virtual window shopping. Sigh...

Non-sequitur P.S.: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

So, I Learned About Diversity. And while there was some obvious stuff about how hearing diverse voices makes our product better, it was relatively non-patronizing. They were very into us tapping the very-quickly-growing hispanic market. And by "us" I mean the other, bigger magazine that shares its office with ours. There was only one instance where a co-worker said, "I mean, when I was a little kid my best friend was black. I didn't care what color she was!" Which is just such a cliche. Everyone has had that experience -- well, maybe not the people who grew up in Whitey Hills, where I live how. But still, it doesn't mean you are more open-minded or special.

There was one activity where we broke into five groups, each one being a different station on the "scale of tolerance." We could pick where we went, so of course I raced right over to number 5, Repulsion. Then the leaders read out scenarios about a fictional co-worker, and we were to write down a response to match the level of tolerance we were at. All of the old-timer cynical snarksters had run over to Repulsion with me, so our responses were pretty awesome. We hated this fictional co-worker so much that when he'd say something in a meeting, we'd start shaking our heads in disagreement as soon as he started to speak, and once he was finished we'd cut in with a "That would never, ever work." At the end the leaders had us rate this fictional co-worker's chances of success in the company, and of course we were supposed to say "0-10%" or something. But the members of the Repulsion team are so jaded and bitter that we ended up answering "50%, because obviously someone liked him enough to hire him in the first place, so there's a good chance he'll get promoted to management."

I'm not sure what the point of the exercise was.

All in all it was pretty painless. And now I can say I've been trained in diversity!

Wow, it's been a week already! I have been sick, so between all of the extra napping and tea-and-soup eating and the not-leaving-the-house, it's like no time has passed (or that ALL time has passed...). I am assuming I caught something on my Florida trip, which makes me afraid of what will happen on the big family trip I'm taking over the week of Memorial Day. It will be my first real vacation, well, ever in my adult life (and it's with my parents and my sister -- how fucking sad is THAT). I'll have to try that Airborne crap, even though echinacea has finally been proven to be bullshit. Zinc and C still work, though.

It's all pretty out. But I still feel like shit. A week ago I was looking forward to beginning my after-work bike rides in the countryside, but because my body is filled with ague, my bike remains crammed into my storage space in the basement. I didn't go out at all on the weekend, so I missed whatever spring-fever/full-moon deliriousness might have been happening downtown. Last night in bed I had a horrible tickly sore throat problem. It took me forever to fall asleep, and I had to be on my stomach with my face planted in the mattress so there'd be no post-nasal drippage. And then I woke up at dawn with my throat so dry and tickly and painful that I could not stop coughing and gagging, and I had to pop a Hall's and fall asleep with it in my mouth. I woke up with a sliver of it still undissolved on my tongue. Good times.

Diversity training is this Thursday. I can't wait. I will give you a full report.

I have recently heard from someone in the know that the janitorial staff at my office doesn't recycle. Oh, WE recycle, but THEY take our blue bins full of paper and dump them into the bags containing the regular trash. This happens in the evening when everyone has gone home and they can do their dastardly deeds in private (save for the aforementioned someone-in-the-know, who works late). I want to write a note and tape it to the top of my blue bin that says, "Why do you hate America?" Or maybe "God knows when you lie about recycling." Or "Every time you throw away office paper, a kitten dies, screaming." Maybe all three, over a course of a week.

My trip went well. It was wonderful to wear shorts, a tank top, and sandals, and still feel warm. I saw some b-list celebrities, I went on a whole bunch of rides, ate free food and drank a couple of free drinks, walked for miles, swam in a pool, saw a bunch of wild animals... Pretty good for a one-night trip. At the evening reception thingy for all of the media people, I met a guy who recognized me from a first-person article I wrote (and was photographed for) in the old magazine several years ago. I've been waiting to be recognized from that article for years, and finally my dream has come true. I did chat with a few strangers, but it was actually kind of nice. They were all gregarious people who approached me (sitting/standing alone) so that probably had something to do with it. I only talked about the snow with a couple of guys from Boston.

Between that trip, doing a bunch of spring cleaning on Saturday and then dancing at the Steamtrain show, and going on a marathon trip to Ikea yesterday, I feel like now is the time to get back into exercising for reals. I have more house work to do tonight, and then I'll have to keep up the activity some other way. I finally discovered how beautiful and desolate and big the "meadows" are (I think it's the meadows... they're mostly corn fields, though, right? Near the dike? I hope a local can back me up here) when I rode my bike around there last year, and I want to explore those dirt roads more. I would enjoy it more if I had a bike seat that doesn't make my womanly parts "fall asleep". (Was that too much information?)

Ikea was great by the way. We thought we'd just be there a couple of hours but before we knew it almost 4 hours had passed. Oh so much tiredness at the end of it all. As usual, a couple of the things I really wanted were out of stock. Luckily, I found one of the out-of-stock things in the scratch-and-dent section. I still managed to spend $250 ($150 of that was one chair-with-footrest; both Vena Red, beech veneer). I have been reading Apartment Therapy a lot lately, and there are many Ikea devotees there. I saw a bunch of items I recognized from their "smallest, coolest apartment" contest. The commenters on that site would probably say I have too many colors going on in my living room, and they would be right. Perhaps I need some throw pillows that pull together the red Ikea chair, the orange office chair, the blue lamp, and the purple sofa together... Sigh.

I woke up this morning and looked outside, and it was snowing. There was snow coating all of the trees and the bushes and the leafy buds on the trees and the bushes (lots of leafy buds, since it is, after all, April). It made me happy because now I have a good topic of conversation during the press event I'm attending tomorrow. I love to travel on someone else's dime but there's always shmoozing involved. I find that to be hard work. I am a quiet person until I feel like I really know someone, but in these situations I have to be chatty -- at least a little chatty, until I think up a way to escape and go off on my own. This particular event involves riding a new ride, and I really don't want to get stuck riding it with one of my "contacts," because on this ride, screaming will be happening, and that's just kind of strange and icky and too intimate to do with a person with whom you have only a professional relationship.

Anyway, it's very cold out today, and I had to break out the legwarmers (to wear under my jeans) for one last time. Did you know that not only are bubble skirts back in style, but leggings are, too? I can't believe that 80's fashion trends are back. I am going to assume the leggings-with-tunic look is not going to be worn by anyone over, say, age 25; some trends, like the shrug, or fake-vintage t-shirts, don't usually rise up into my age range, probably because people in their 30s like me wore bubble skirts the first time around (and they looked ridiculous back then, too) and have t-shirts that are old and worn-out enough to be genuine vintage. I don't think I ever owned a bubble skirt, but I do still have a pair of leggings I got as a teen from Contempo Casuals (which was very hip in my high school). They're black and have lace trim, and Urban Outfitters is currently selling an exact replica of them. Perhaps this means I can liberate them from underneath my pants! Except I don't want to look like that too-skinny blonde woman on South Street who appears to be in her 40s but dresses like she's 16. Hmmm...

One good thing about this season's fashion for girls/women: The shirts are very forgiving. They're long, and often they're not tight -- in fact, most of them are quite flowy and poofy. You can see what I mean here and here and here.

However, note that the worst trend of 80's fashion has appeared: The geometric graphic. Look at this shirt, and despair.

Another Spring sign: Rich people have taken their convertibles out of the garage and are driving them around town. I've seen two already (both little Jaguars, I think). It's only a matter of time before we see Zeke in his tiny orange car.

A friend just told me a rumor that Smokin' Lil's, the really awesome BBQ place downtown, is closing. I am very unhappy and am currently choosing to be in denial about it. The place is never crowded when I go, even on weekends when there's an hour and a half wait at the neighboring Eastside, so I suppose the writing was on the wall. Lil's is fabulous, though, and I've never gotten a bad meal there. Damn it! If only a few of those Longmeadow/Connecticut people dining at Eastside decided to try Smokin' Lil's instead, this would never have happened.

It's a lovely day. Jill Carroll was released, the weather is gorgeous and warm, everyone is wearing a skirt (if the person is a gal) or a cool shirt (if a fella), and I "had" to recipe-test apple turnovers at work earlier and they were delicious. People are walking down the street eating ice cream cones. Tulips are coming up. Tonight I am going to have to swap my down comforter for my cotton blanket combo. It's all happening, people!

I think someone should put a Dairy Queen or a Carvel in the space where Coldstone used to be, on Main Street. I know, they're just as bad and corporate as Coldstone, and would hurt Herrell's business somewhat. But I am tired of having to hop in a car or bike a long way (long = a mile) just for some soft-serve. I needs my soft-serve in the summer, people. The other weekend it was chilly and rainy, and I went to the mall with a friend and we got some vanilla soft-serve at the brand-new DQ in there. It was a delight. There's a soft-serve shack by the seafood restaurant next to the bike path, and they do that "87 flavors" thing where they somehow add ribbons of colored/flavored syrup to vanilla. I don't recommend anything but the true chocolate and vanilla. The syrup adds even more sugar to the already-sweet-enough vanilla, so it's kind of too intense.

Last night DG asked me where "Oh snap!" came from, as my brother-in-law says it a lot. I said, "um... black people?" but the answer didn't satisfy him. He wanted to know if it was originally from a particular movie or song or something, but I honestly don't know. I mean, where did "doy!" come from? Or "junk in the trunk"? Or "dude!"? Some grad student must have done this research somewhere, right?

I was home sick yesterday, which meant I watched some very, very bad television. I could have watched something of quality on DVD, but I feel guilty if I actually enjoy myself when I've taken a sick day. So it was Maury, who got help for some 13-year-old hoes, and then Springer, which has become even more cartoony than it used to me a few years ago. Springer now has this pole on the side of the stage, and when an audience member says something particularly mean and funny, they're urged to go hang out on the pole, and stripper-dance with it or something. It seems to be a bit of an honor. My mind's a bit hazy on the pole thing, to tell the truth - I was half-awake by that point.

The only other thing of note that happened yesterday was that I got a work email saying that we were soon to have mandatory Diversity Training sessions. I actually thought it might be an April-Fools' Day joke, but no. Apparently my uber-uber-boss has never seen The Office, or she has seen it, but didn't understand that it was a comedy. I am going to have a very hard time taking this seriously. First of all, my office is 95% white; I live in a very white (though very liberal) area of the country. If we had more applicants of color, we would hire them, but we don't. (A similar problem happened when I was at college, and they were desperately trying to find a minority professor for the art department, but got very few minority applicants. They were so hard up that one of the finalists was a white guy who happened to have an amputated foot.) True, some people here may be unaware of their "white privilege" but I bet they're few and far between. Maybe I'm giving people too much credit, I don't know. But I do think that the kind of ingrained racism people here might have wouldn't show itself in the workplace.

I predict the workshop is going to teach me that having input from a diverse group of people will make the organization stronger and more creative. If it turns out I'm correct, can I get that day of my life back?

I know it doesn't feel like spring outside, but I have proof that spring has begun. Go to Trumball Street, near the corner of State Street, and find the dripping tree. There's a huge maple with a broken branch up high, and it's dripping sap onto the grassy median between the sidewalk and the street. I walked past the puddle and thought, that's weird, a puddle and stuff dripping into it, even though there's nothing above but tree. So I turned back and let some of it drip into my hand, tasted it, and hey! Sweet-ish liquid. Nice. Someone should put a bucket out there to catch all the sappy goodness.

Also sweet? Yacht Rock, the current hit show of Channel 101. I love Yacht Rock. I love that it's made by guys who are genuine music nerds (just go to the Channel 101 forums and read the Yacht Rock threads), so while they're making fun of "smooth" music, they also really love it. Because it cannot be denied that "What a Fool Believes" is both cheesy AND an awesome song. If you must know what the show is before viewing it, visit the wiki article. And then go watch some YR. Episode 2 is my favorite but they're all worthwhile.

Things I have been busy doing:

1. Singing. The convention was fantastic. Lots and lots of great singing. My voice gave out eventually. I saw Mr. Tits McGee poking his head in, don't know if Miss Tits was there too. I was one of the coordinators for the event and my task was completed well, with a minimum of problems (though there are always problems). There was a "memorial lesson" on Sunday, and it was led by a couple who had lost a son in the past year. It was very moving and heartbreaking, and after they had read off the list of people in the singing community, as well as their friends and relatives, who had died in the past year, they ended with the name of their son, Mark Seiler. I got chills at the name, as that guy was a part of another obscure "family" of mine, kids who went to Powell House. I had forgotten that I had gotten obituary notices via email by both a Quaker source and a singing source. I never met him, strangely; he was younger than me by just enough that our paths wouldn't have crossed at PoHo. Very sad.

2. Working. Work is very very busy and complicated right now. Not as bad as the fella's, though; he emailed me at 10 this morning to say he was going to sleep, having been up all day and night doing some big technical thing at his job. I could probably remember what exactly he's doing if I worked my brain hard enough, but I'm saving those neurons for work. Worky work-work work.

3. Playing Roller Coaster Tycoon. I have a problem.

4. Feeding Brian's cat, getting my car inspected, going food shopping... Life. You know.

5. Agonizing over, then deciding and buying a new cell phone. I'll miss my 2.5-year-old LG, but I wanted to upgrade to a phone with a camera in it, mainly so I can receive photos on the fly (my sister and bro-in-law like to send me pics). I got very close to buying a Razr, but ended up with a Motorola 815. I need to play around with it some more, but so far I really like it. I got a free month of that stupid-ass V-Cast stuff on all of the ads (the ads that get "My Humps" stuck in my head for hours) but the service isn't even available in my town. So now I gots to remember to call and cancel it, otherwise they'll start charging me for it. Whatta scam.

6. Enjoying the crazy weather. Right now the sun is shining in the middle of a snow squall. A couple of nights ago we had a thunderstorm. The crocuses and snowdrops are blooming.

What are you doing this weekend? During the day, I mean? Besides sleeping, eating, and doing chores? Well, you could come to the Western Mass Sacred Harp Convention! I will even be there at the ungodly (for a Saturday) hour of 8:30 a.m. for an hour-and-a-half stint at the welcoming table. The convention is very amenable to "just stopping by" -- that's how I first got into this whole shape-note singing thing in the first place, I stopped by for a few minutes just to listen. The welcoming table people may try to encourage you to take a book and participate (because it's all about the participating, there's no audience). So if you want to experience the spectacle of 200-300 people singing four-part harmonies at the top of their lungs, and embarrass me a little bit as a side-effect (because singing makes me feel dorky), come on by.

Some advice:

"Passed" and "past" are not the same words. They sound similar, but are not spelled the same way, and do not mean the same thing. At all.

Same goes for "lose" and "loose," which don't even sound the same.

If you are going to be drinking a lot, to the point where you must throw up, please do so in the gutter and not on the sidewalk next to my office building (or the bank, or the clothing store). I really don't enjoy stepping over dried-up, chunky puddles of whatever you ate just before going out for Bud Lites at Tulley's. Plus: Have some fucking dignity.

Perhaps you haven't shopped anywhere other than WalMart, ever, in your entire life. You may be surprised to discover that prices at Target are a few cents higher than what you are used to. This is not a good reason to loudly state your complete shock at how expensive the Lean Cuisine entrees are. Please keep it to yourself and your long-suffering husband.

Homeless (?) lady: As I walk down the street with my boyfriend, don't talk right over our conversation with a request for money; I'm stupid and lose (note word usage) my train of thought easily, and so when you interrupt me I get pissed. Also, when I ignore you and continue talking, it doesn't help your cause to add a "have a lovely evening" after I walk past (note word usage).

Some advice, Oscars section:

Reese Witherspoon: You're cute, and you aren't Renee Zellweger, but still: Shut up.

Salma Hayek: You have an awesome body. Don't let some stupid designer stuff you into a weird boob-bisecting dress ever again.

And finally, Charlize Theron: WTF.

My slackittude has produced a post! I've discovered, via apartment therapy, a way to actually use old flea-market frames. Here's a place online where you can order mats cut to your specifications - both the outer dimensions and the inside window (for the artwork), for a reasonable price. Awesome.

And if you're in need of artwork to frame, visit boygirlparty. I have a tiny painting of susie's, bought at the Giant Robot store in NY. I accidentally linked to her recently -- instead of a previous post like I meant to do -- with the words "creepy naked guy" or something like that (it has been fixed). Which was a mistake I made due to my lame method of html coding, where I copy and paste a link example I have saved on a stickie on my desktop. I've since changed my "example" link from boygirlparty to a fake url. And now you know all my secrets.

Edited to add: Apparently the link never got changed at all, providing boygirlparty with a lot of interesting referral links, I'm sure. D'oh! Stupid Blogger, I KNOW I made the change. Anyway, it's all kosher now, unless Blogger is lying to me once more.

I know I am overdue for a post but I just don't have anything to report. Maybe I'll try writing anyway. Currently, I am sitting on the sofa in front of the TV, my laptop on my actual lap. I bought some pretty boots on Zappos and they're way too narrow, so back they go. My dream boots are yet again but a dream. In other news, my cat is adorable. And it snowed really hard for about 45 minutes today. In addition, oh my GOD this toe nail fungus advertisement should be AGAINST THE LAW! Horrifying! Sorry. I am in front of the TV, half-watching a PrimeTime Live show about a polygamist cult in Colorado. This woman escaped it and now she's going back to confront the life she left behind, where she had 55 siblings (!!!) and ended up marrying a man who already had a wife - one of her sisters. I can't decide if I should keep watching this, or switch over to Animal Cops, which rouses my indignation in a different way, though at least when I watch Animal Cops my cat gets a lot of extra attention.

Animal Cops it is. Oh my god, that dog's coat is so long and matted and filthy it's a wonder he can even move! Poor little guy! So they just shave him and give him back to his clueless owner? What the fuck is that?

Okay, now it is Friday morning. This week has been long and hard, but I was so resigned about it lasting forever that I kind of can't believe it's about to be the weekend. Today I am wearing the nice Anthropologie shirt I got on sale the last time I was down in NYC, even though it's too cold to wear it and I have to cover it up with another shirt.

Do you see? Do you see how boring? Stupid winter, keeping me inside, in front of the TV...

I had something to post that I thought of yesterday, but now I've had a glass and a half of wine and I can't remember anything, except that I had an idea once. Oh! I remembered. I went to the mall yesterday, which has a new Orange Julius/Dairy Queen (excuse me - DQ) combo. I used to love Orange Juliuses when I was a teen, though I was too poor to enjoy them more than a handful of times. I didn't have one yesterday either, but that's not the point here. On the Orange Julius smoothie-making counter is a bin of white powder with a label saying "Flavor Enhancer." Now, if the place served savory food, I'd assume it was MSG (and it was 1965 or something). But it's for sweets, and it's today.
So I went to their corporate website and found this:

Julius Flavor Enhancer, Orange Julius® Compound: A dairy-based flavor enhancer blended for taste and texture.
Ingredients include dairy and egg products, specifically whole milk powder and egg white solids.

...which sounds kind of gross. And sounds like it's more of a texture enhancer than anything. Either way, they clearly need a more appetizing name for it. Judging by the ingredients, they could call it "protein powder" and get away with it. Or how about "Texturator"? "Improviepowder"? "AWESOM-O"? Wait, I know: "Angel Dust"! Perfect.

On my way to work this morning, I walked past what I believe was a genuine, in-the-flesh hobo. Not just a homeless person, but a hobo! He was sitting under the railroad overpass, dressed in bulky camouflage, had a knapsack and a beard, and was playing the same short and fast melody on a harmonica over and over again. I was especially excited to spot a hobo in the flesh since I had just read the 700 Hobo Names in John Hodgman's book a couple of weeks ago. I was too shy to ask him if his presence meant the hoboes were indeed going to overthrow the government.

I'll post something about the big Toy Fest (name changed to avoid google matches) soon. But I had to mention that this Jennifer M post reminded me that I have recently seen creepy nude-photo personals guy in town (unfortunately for me, he lives and works here). And the horrible part is that I think he recognizes me, because there have been smirky looks thrown in my direction. If anything, I should be smirking, since I'm not the one who posted a photo of myself lying face-down on the floor with my ass in the air, or a photo of my chest/abdomen with my pants half-undone. But instead I am embarrassed for him, even though he's clearly too cocky to see that.

I traveled to NYC for the big black-out of 2004, and I traveled to NYC just in time for the biggest blizzard of city history. It's a wonder I was nowhere near the place during 9/11.

The restaurant downtown with the "Your so sweet" sign has actually corrected and replaced it! I am in awe. This never happens! But there it is in the window, "You're so sweet" etc. Exciting.