I don't know why, but I've always loved gadgets. Not like those crazy gadgets "as seen on tv" that can be yours for one small payment of $19.95 (plus shipping and handling), but real gadgets like my iPhone and my camera and other cool electronic gear.
I recently watched Ocean's 11 and it was at the part *spoiler alert* where they blow up the vault door using those little stones that look like giant emeralds... Anyways, Danny has this cool little trigger device that sets off the bombs, and, call me crazy, I want one.
Now if you are from the FBI and you are reading this, I assure you you have nothing to worry about. I don't want to blow anything up. I just want one of those trigger things to do something amazing like start my dishwasher or dispense my laundry detergent. I just feel like life would be way more exciting and dramatic if I had a button that took care of these menial tasks.
Aw, geez. Now I sound lazy. Go ahead, world. Judge me. I'm still putting one of these on my Christmas list.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
More Character Encounters
As "great" as the Fonz was, he was no match to the character sitting on the other side of my lovely middle seat on my 3 hour flight last weekend.
Folks (or folk), I would like to introduce you to Holly Hangover. Holly was probably in her early 40s. She entered the plane with her sunglasses on and her puka shells securely fastened around her neck. She was sporting a black tank top, a cute little skirt and some serious bed-head hair. Holly needed to sleep. She knew it. I knew it. But unfortunately, the Fonz was out of the loop.
Turns out Holly was on the same cruise the Fonz was on. It was destiny. They chatted for a few minutes about how great everything was, while Holly safely stowed her brand new over-sized straw bag under the seat in front of her. Once they had finished their small talk about the cruise, the Fonz (who was a master of the obvious) looked at Holly and said, "So did you have a little too much fun?" Holly gave him a half smiling, half "if-I-had-a-Dramamine-I-would-drug-you-just-so-you-would-stop-talking-to-me" kind of look and laid her head back on the headrest.
When the drink cart came rolling by, Holly opted for the Bloody Mary mix. Those expensive little bottles of vodka were calling her name, but her body was threatening to go on strike if she took another drink. She had been sentenced to a slow and painful death by hangover, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Throughout the flight, it became more and more difficult for her get comfortable. She was in pain, and it showed. She became progressively more and more bent over, until her head was resting on the lovely touchscreen in front of her. It was pretty funny to watch her forehead accidentally push buttons. I swear I'm not a mean person, and I don't like seeing other people suffer - but every time her head pushed a button, the picture on the screen would change and it would shine in her eyes. She was so confused and so miserable. It was difficult to witness.
By the time the plane landed, Holly's head was in her lap, and every breath she took was accompanied by a painful groan. She gathered all her belongings and her straw bag and made her way down the aisle, using every row of chairs to support her along the way. I felt so bad for her.
But I would have not even mentioned Holly if it weren't for what happened next: as she was leaving the plane, the Fonz asked if she would be on the same cruise again next year. She turned, smiled as best she could and said "Hell, yeah!" and walked off the plane.
She had had a great time. It was obvious. There's no way she was missing out another experience like this one.
People make so much sense.
Folks (or folk), I would like to introduce you to Holly Hangover. Holly was probably in her early 40s. She entered the plane with her sunglasses on and her puka shells securely fastened around her neck. She was sporting a black tank top, a cute little skirt and some serious bed-head hair. Holly needed to sleep. She knew it. I knew it. But unfortunately, the Fonz was out of the loop.
Turns out Holly was on the same cruise the Fonz was on. It was destiny. They chatted for a few minutes about how great everything was, while Holly safely stowed her brand new over-sized straw bag under the seat in front of her. Once they had finished their small talk about the cruise, the Fonz (who was a master of the obvious) looked at Holly and said, "So did you have a little too much fun?" Holly gave him a half smiling, half "if-I-had-a-Dramamine-I-would-drug-you-just-so-you-would-stop-talking-to-me" kind of look and laid her head back on the headrest.When the drink cart came rolling by, Holly opted for the Bloody Mary mix. Those expensive little bottles of vodka were calling her name, but her body was threatening to go on strike if she took another drink. She had been sentenced to a slow and painful death by hangover, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Throughout the flight, it became more and more difficult for her get comfortable. She was in pain, and it showed. She became progressively more and more bent over, until her head was resting on the lovely touchscreen in front of her. It was pretty funny to watch her forehead accidentally push buttons. I swear I'm not a mean person, and I don't like seeing other people suffer - but every time her head pushed a button, the picture on the screen would change and it would shine in her eyes. She was so confused and so miserable. It was difficult to witness.
By the time the plane landed, Holly's head was in her lap, and every breath she took was accompanied by a painful groan. She gathered all her belongings and her straw bag and made her way down the aisle, using every row of chairs to support her along the way. I felt so bad for her.
But I would have not even mentioned Holly if it weren't for what happened next: as she was leaving the plane, the Fonz asked if she would be on the same cruise again next year. She turned, smiled as best she could and said "Hell, yeah!" and walked off the plane.
She had had a great time. It was obvious. There's no way she was missing out another experience like this one.
People make so much sense.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Character Encounters
I've said it before, but I'll say it again: I love traveling. You meet and see all kinds of crazy people. Last weekend I was traveling to a conference and met several such characters. I think I will dedicate the next few posts to introducing you to them.
I think we will begin with my friend from my 3 hour flight. We'll call him "the Fonz." He sat next to me in the window seat. He was around 60 years old, but he still had dark curly hair and a dark mustache. He had on gold rimmed glasses, a gold watch and a gold chain necklace, as well as a muscle shirt covered by a Hawaiian print shirt and a brown suede jacket.
Like most of the people on the flight - except for me, of course - Fonz was returning home from a week long cruise. But not just any cruise, he went on a Rockin' 50's Cruise. Apparently they only play music from the 50's and you just dance your life away. The Fonz loved it, except he now had a song stuck in his head and he couldn't get it out. I know this not only because he told me, but also because he sang it for a good part of our time together and it was then stuck in my head. "There she was just a walkin' down the street, singing do a diddy diddy dum diddy do..."
Now, in order for you to fully understand my interactions with the Fonz, you must first know that I had gotten about 4 hours of sleep the last night of the conference and I was not in my usual conversing mood. So, I plopped down in the chair next to the Fonz and he looks at me and says, "I'm sorry if I snore, I'm so tired and I plan on sleeping the whole flight. I'm exhausted and slightly hungover. Oh and I have to keep these shades closed because I'm extremely photosensitive." Fine by me. I had headphones and planned on zoning out as soon as the plane took off. I was, however, a little confused as to how his photo sensitivity
affected his time on the CRUISE SHIP, but whatever....
The wheels leave the runway and I reach for my headphones so I can watch a movie on my personal little screen built into the seat in front of me - side note: Continental Airlines is my new favorite. They have actual food and On Demand video, meaning you can start and stop any movie whenever you want. And they actually had a really great selection. - Anyways, I started watching my movie and saw that the Fonz was playing with his screen too. The only thing is, he didn't have headphones, and he wasn't going to drop a whole dollar on the ones they sell on the plane, so he was limited to the games. Turns out the Fonz is very passionate about inflight electronic games. I felt so sorry for the person in the seat in front of him because he was literally punching the "touchscreen" on the back of their headrest. He was doing very well at checkers. I know this not because I was watching his screen, but because he did a fist pump after each good move he made. No joke. He would do the fist pump and then say "yes!" and look at me. I, of course, smiled the first few times but then quickly learned that it would be to my benefit to pretend that I didn't notice.
After he tired of checkers, he gave bowling a try. Bad idea. He couldn't figure out how it worked, and he wasn't happy about it. His frequent fist pumps turned into exasperated gestures. At one point he threw his hands in the air and over the back of the chair and grabbed onto his headrest and started shaking it. The only problem with that - aside from the fact that he was behaving like a two year old - is that he messed up the screen of the person behind him. That poor soul actually had to tap him and ask him to move his arms. All for a bad game of bowling...
Several games later, the Fonz got bored with his little screen. I thought maybe he would make good on his talk of snoring, but I'm not that lucky. Instead of sleeping, he took a vested interest in what was playing on my screen. Awkward. First off, there's a glare coming from the window behind Fonz, so he has to lean toward me to watch MY movie, without sound, and totally violated what little personal space I was entitled to in seat 26B. Secondly, he would look at the screen and then look me expecting some kind of reaction to what was happening in the movie. So so awkward.
Needless to say, I breathed a sigh of relief when my time with the Fonz was over. What planet do these people come from?
I think we will begin with my friend from my 3 hour flight. We'll call him "the Fonz." He sat next to me in the window seat. He was around 60 years old, but he still had dark curly hair and a dark mustache. He had on gold rimmed glasses, a gold watch and a gold chain necklace, as well as a muscle shirt covered by a Hawaiian print shirt and a brown suede jacket.
Like most of the people on the flight - except for me, of course - Fonz was returning home from a week long cruise. But not just any cruise, he went on a Rockin' 50's Cruise. Apparently they only play music from the 50's and you just dance your life away. The Fonz loved it, except he now had a song stuck in his head and he couldn't get it out. I know this not only because he told me, but also because he sang it for a good part of our time together and it was then stuck in my head. "There she was just a walkin' down the street, singing do a diddy diddy dum diddy do..."
Now, in order for you to fully understand my interactions with the Fonz, you must first know that I had gotten about 4 hours of sleep the last night of the conference and I was not in my usual conversing mood. So, I plopped down in the chair next to the Fonz and he looks at me and says, "I'm sorry if I snore, I'm so tired and I plan on sleeping the whole flight. I'm exhausted and slightly hungover. Oh and I have to keep these shades closed because I'm extremely photosensitive." Fine by me. I had headphones and planned on zoning out as soon as the plane took off. I was, however, a little confused as to how his photo sensitivity
affected his time on the CRUISE SHIP, but whatever....The wheels leave the runway and I reach for my headphones so I can watch a movie on my personal little screen built into the seat in front of me - side note: Continental Airlines is my new favorite. They have actual food and On Demand video, meaning you can start and stop any movie whenever you want. And they actually had a really great selection. - Anyways, I started watching my movie and saw that the Fonz was playing with his screen too. The only thing is, he didn't have headphones, and he wasn't going to drop a whole dollar on the ones they sell on the plane, so he was limited to the games. Turns out the Fonz is very passionate about inflight electronic games. I felt so sorry for the person in the seat in front of him because he was literally punching the "touchscreen" on the back of their headrest. He was doing very well at checkers. I know this not because I was watching his screen, but because he did a fist pump after each good move he made. No joke. He would do the fist pump and then say "yes!" and look at me. I, of course, smiled the first few times but then quickly learned that it would be to my benefit to pretend that I didn't notice.
After he tired of checkers, he gave bowling a try. Bad idea. He couldn't figure out how it worked, and he wasn't happy about it. His frequent fist pumps turned into exasperated gestures. At one point he threw his hands in the air and over the back of the chair and grabbed onto his headrest and started shaking it. The only problem with that - aside from the fact that he was behaving like a two year old - is that he messed up the screen of the person behind him. That poor soul actually had to tap him and ask him to move his arms. All for a bad game of bowling...
Several games later, the Fonz got bored with his little screen. I thought maybe he would make good on his talk of snoring, but I'm not that lucky. Instead of sleeping, he took a vested interest in what was playing on my screen. Awkward. First off, there's a glare coming from the window behind Fonz, so he has to lean toward me to watch MY movie, without sound, and totally violated what little personal space I was entitled to in seat 26B. Secondly, he would look at the screen and then look me expecting some kind of reaction to what was happening in the movie. So so awkward.
Needless to say, I breathed a sigh of relief when my time with the Fonz was over. What planet do these people come from?
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Family Encounters
It's the holiday season. And along with my annual servings of turkey, mashed potatoes, ornaments, gifts and general Christmas merriment, it's also time for a heaping dose of.... family.
There's nothing quite like Christmastime in my family. I'm sure we're pretty much like most other families who spend holidays together. That is, of course, assuming that most families can relate to the scene in "While You Were Sleeping" where the whole family is gathered around the table and each person is engaging in their own off the wall conversation. One of my favorite pastimes is to just sit back and listen to how many different conversations can go on at once. I think the record was 9, which might not seem like a lot, but you have to keep in mind there were only 7 people at the table. We might be small in number, but we have more than our fair share of quirks. That's not to say I don't bring my own truck load of idiosyncrasies to the table. God knows I have to if I want to fit in - not to mention survive.
Anyways, all that to say, there's never a dull moment during the holidays with the fam, but that's not good enough for us. No. We can't just let it go and have everyone go on with their crazy little lives. Instead, we force ourselves to do the one thing that especially tends to accentuate our insanity: we play cards. Not Hearts or Spades, or even Bullshit - no, we play a game called Shanghai. Heard of it? Didn't think so. I think they outlawed it in most cities because of its tendency to rip families apart. It's not that it's a complicated game with a massive amount strategy involved - it's far from that - it's just that when we play cards, we pick each other apart. We beg shamelessly for cards that we need to complete our hand. We bring up past grievances and cast "you owe me" glares across the table. (I'll admit it; I often play the "perfect daughter" card in order to get what I want.) We steal cards from people simply for the sake of depriving them of something they need. "Cards is cards," we say, and then five seconds later we beg like 3rd graders for something we want. It's pathetic. It's family.
The best part is, we often invite guests to join us in our friendly card games. If you play cards with us, you're in for good. It is then, and only then that you see our true colors. We get vicious. There's often yelling involved, and there's always cheating. Just this last weekend, I was home for Thanksgiving, and of course we played cards several times. One night, my Sitti (that would be a word for "grandma" in Arabic), who is one of the most gracious and kind people I have ever met, tried to cite a rule that had never been mentioned in over 20 years worth of card games. "It's a rule!" she exclaimed. "What? We've never even heard of that!" everyone else shouted. And the argument went on and on and on. All I know is, it's a good thing my dad enjoys playing bartender, because you need a drink or two to make it through a game of Shanghai. (In case you are wondering, I looked up the definition for the word "shanghai," here's what I found: (verb) "to enroll or obtain (a sailor) for the crew of a ship by unscrupulous means, as by force or the use of liquor or drugs." Yep. Sounds about right.)
Oh, Shanghai. Such a wonderful holiday tradition.
There's nothing quite like Christmastime in my family. I'm sure we're pretty much like most other families who spend holidays together. That is, of course, assuming that most families can relate to the scene in "While You Were Sleeping" where the whole family is gathered around the table and each person is engaging in their own off the wall conversation. One of my favorite pastimes is to just sit back and listen to how many different conversations can go on at once. I think the record was 9, which might not seem like a lot, but you have to keep in mind there were only 7 people at the table. We might be small in number, but we have more than our fair share of quirks. That's not to say I don't bring my own truck load of idiosyncrasies to the table. God knows I have to if I want to fit in - not to mention survive.
Anyways, all that to say, there's never a dull moment during the holidays with the fam, but that's not good enough for us. No. We can't just let it go and have everyone go on with their crazy little lives. Instead, we force ourselves to do the one thing that especially tends to accentuate our insanity: we play cards. Not Hearts or Spades, or even Bullshit - no, we play a game called Shanghai. Heard of it? Didn't think so. I think they outlawed it in most cities because of its tendency to rip families apart. It's not that it's a complicated game with a massive amount strategy involved - it's far from that - it's just that when we play cards, we pick each other apart. We beg shamelessly for cards that we need to complete our hand. We bring up past grievances and cast "you owe me" glares across the table. (I'll admit it; I often play the "perfect daughter" card in order to get what I want.) We steal cards from people simply for the sake of depriving them of something they need. "Cards is cards," we say, and then five seconds later we beg like 3rd graders for something we want. It's pathetic. It's family.The best part is, we often invite guests to join us in our friendly card games. If you play cards with us, you're in for good. It is then, and only then that you see our true colors. We get vicious. There's often yelling involved, and there's always cheating. Just this last weekend, I was home for Thanksgiving, and of course we played cards several times. One night, my Sitti (that would be a word for "grandma" in Arabic), who is one of the most gracious and kind people I have ever met, tried to cite a rule that had never been mentioned in over 20 years worth of card games. "It's a rule!" she exclaimed. "What? We've never even heard of that!" everyone else shouted. And the argument went on and on and on. All I know is, it's a good thing my dad enjoys playing bartender, because you need a drink or two to make it through a game of Shanghai. (In case you are wondering, I looked up the definition for the word "shanghai," here's what I found: (verb) "to enroll or obtain (a sailor) for the crew of a ship by unscrupulous means, as by force or the use of liquor or drugs." Yep. Sounds about right.)
Oh, Shanghai. Such a wonderful holiday tradition.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Intellectual Property Encounters
Last night I attended a high school fashion/variety show - I know you are jealous. As fascinating as the actual show was, the person I went to see was only in about five minutes of the hour and a half program, so naturally I found other things to capture my attention. Luckily, I didn't have to look too far.
There was a group of girls who were sitting right in front of me enjoying the show. They were your typical high school senior bunch - laughing at inside jokes and screaming at inhuman volumes for their 75 best friends who were on stage. But one girl stood out among the rest. She knew every word to every rap song they played, as well as the dance to go along with it. However, as impressive as her lyrical prowess was, it was her commentary on the show that I found most amusing.
The students in the skits kept using popular phrases like, "that's so legit," and other
teen-speak, and every time they said something like that this girl would freak out and say, "Man! They keep stealing all MY phrases!" or, "Ugh! That's my word!" Yes, ladies and gentleman, last night I met the author of half of our modern catch phrases - jealous again, aren't you?
Now, it's been a while, but during my undergrad, I took a class on Mass Comm Law and we studied all kinds of things like intellectual property and trademarks and copyrights. I might not remember very many specifics from the course, but I did get an A and I'm pretty sure that the girl from last night would have a legal nightmare if she actually tried to claim all "her phrases" in court.
On the other hand, I wonder how much all eBayers would be willing to pay for an autograph from the creator of the word "legit"?
People can be so funny sometimes...
There was a group of girls who were sitting right in front of me enjoying the show. They were your typical high school senior bunch - laughing at inside jokes and screaming at inhuman volumes for their 75 best friends who were on stage. But one girl stood out among the rest. She knew every word to every rap song they played, as well as the dance to go along with it. However, as impressive as her lyrical prowess was, it was her commentary on the show that I found most amusing.
The students in the skits kept using popular phrases like, "that's so legit," and other
teen-speak, and every time they said something like that this girl would freak out and say, "Man! They keep stealing all MY phrases!" or, "Ugh! That's my word!" Yes, ladies and gentleman, last night I met the author of half of our modern catch phrases - jealous again, aren't you?Now, it's been a while, but during my undergrad, I took a class on Mass Comm Law and we studied all kinds of things like intellectual property and trademarks and copyrights. I might not remember very many specifics from the course, but I did get an A and I'm pretty sure that the girl from last night would have a legal nightmare if she actually tried to claim all "her phrases" in court.
On the other hand, I wonder how much all eBayers would be willing to pay for an autograph from the creator of the word "legit"?
People can be so funny sometimes...
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Delayed Encounters
I don't want to brag or anything, but I have always been a fairly successful procrastinator. I can put things off for days or weeks and still have everything turn out great. I never did homework and always got good grades. Call me crazy, but doing, well, anything that wasn't studying was always more important to me when I was in school.
Yes, I'm one of those kids who skated through my academic career with little to no effort and only one B - stupid criminal justice elective... - but life has finally caught up with me. That's right, I have finally found something that destroyed my perfect procrastination record.
People (or person), listen to me carefully. You cannot, I repeat, CANNOT procrastinate when it comes to taking care of these two things: TOILET PAPER and TOOTHPASTE - especially if you don't have any roommates you can steal from. So, just don't try, ok? I promise, you'll thank me later.
Yes, I'm one of those kids who skated through my academic career with little to no effort and only one B - stupid criminal justice elective... - but life has finally caught up with me. That's right, I have finally found something that destroyed my perfect procrastination record.
People (or person), listen to me carefully. You cannot, I repeat, CANNOT procrastinate when it comes to taking care of these two things: TOILET PAPER and TOOTHPASTE - especially if you don't have any roommates you can steal from. So, just don't try, ok? I promise, you'll thank me later.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Favorite Encounters
Being a logophile - that would be a lover of words - I often find myself puzzled by the words people choose to use in their day to day conversation. I'm not so much interested in the extent of their vocabulary, or even their grammar, I'm just intrigued by the words they use to convey their point or make their stories more interesting.
Lately, I've noticed that people take words that are supposed to be very meaningful, and they beat the meaning out of them by kicking them around like an old pair of tennis shoes that you don't have to untie to put on or take off.
For example: let's consider the word, "favorite." If used correctly, we should all only have one favorite thing. Of course, we are also entitled to a favorite movie, a favorite food, wine, song, etc. But really, only one favorite "thing." In the last week, I have had several people tell me something is their "favorite thing." One person even claimed four different favorite things in the span of two hours.
Favorite doesn't really mean favorite any more. Nowadays it's just an adjective used to describe any number of things a person happens to enjoy. It has lost its emphasis, and it makes me sad.
One man said his favorite thing was to rearrange furniture. While I don't doubt his odd, but sincere love for moving heavy pieces of furniture, I somehow doubt it is actually the one thing he loves to do in this world more than anything else. As much as I try to separate my facial expressions from the ponderings of my inner monologue, I highly doubt I was able to keep a straight face while he was talking to me. I just kept thinking to myself, "Really? THAT'S your favorite thing in the world? I mean, if you had a bumper sticker on your car, would it say 'I'd rather be moving furniture'?"
Don't get me wrong, people are entitled to love whatever activity they want to - I don't have to agree or even understand - but please, people, be stingy with your favorites.
Lately, I've noticed that people take words that are supposed to be very meaningful, and they beat the meaning out of them by kicking them around like an old pair of tennis shoes that you don't have to untie to put on or take off.
For example: let's consider the word, "favorite." If used correctly, we should all only have one favorite thing. Of course, we are also entitled to a favorite movie, a favorite food, wine, song, etc. But really, only one favorite "thing." In the last week, I have had several people tell me something is their "favorite thing." One person even claimed four different favorite things in the span of two hours.
Favorite doesn't really mean favorite any more. Nowadays it's just an adjective used to describe any number of things a person happens to enjoy. It has lost its emphasis, and it makes me sad.
One man said his favorite thing was to rearrange furniture. While I don't doubt his odd, but sincere love for moving heavy pieces of furniture, I somehow doubt it is actually the one thing he loves to do in this world more than anything else. As much as I try to separate my facial expressions from the ponderings of my inner monologue, I highly doubt I was able to keep a straight face while he was talking to me. I just kept thinking to myself, "Really? THAT'S your favorite thing in the world? I mean, if you had a bumper sticker on your car, would it say 'I'd rather be moving furniture'?"
Don't get me wrong, people are entitled to love whatever activity they want to - I don't have to agree or even understand - but please, people, be stingy with your favorites.
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