Friday, May 30, 2003

While in college, I lived in the city of Willimantic. With more Victorian houses per capita than San Francisco and a wide-scale resurgence in the arts, music and poetry, Willimantic has undeniable charm. It's also known as the heroin capital of Connecticut.

To promote tourism, residents have been dressing up like frogs and passing out candy and travel brochures throughout the East.

Come see our frog bridge and thread mills, they encourage.

Enter, my favorite quote from the article mentioning said tactics:

York wants people in other communities to know that Willimantic has a lot more to offer than a reputation for heroin trafficking and prostitution.


Thursday, May 29, 2003

I've never been one to follow rules. Protocol doesn't apply to me, I've always thought. I'd rather do things my own way. Occasional offenses aside, my way has always worked out for me.

So why do I get so annoyed when someone else can't obey simple rules of traffic, grammar or spelling?

It drives me crazy when a car doesn't heed its appropriate right of way. Keep up with the posted speed limit and please, for the love of all that is good, take those freaking beanie babies out of the back window of your car. The open road is not the time to assert your quirks while you hinder your driving vision.

I shudder when someone overlooks the difference between a semi-colon and a colon or has no idea that one exclamation point is just as effective as four of them. The excitement of a statement does not grow exponentially with the amount of punctuation marks ending the thought.

Don't even get me started on spelling. To, too, two--recognize that there is a working difference. The power of your word is lost on me when it is spelled wrong.

Imagine my disdain at the email I received yesterday afternoon:

you know that old story about the one who throws the first stone? its the one who has never made a mistake before.. or a bad decision....
you could have just not e-mailed me back...
and if you think that i feel in any way good right now.. you are wrong...
but that is probably what you want...
i wish you well...

Never mind the content. It's just a guy who is angry because I called him out on his devastingly offensive behavior toward a friend last week. In any event, I couldn't even absorb the meaning of his message as I was distracted by all those damned ellipses. Improperly used ellipses, I might add.

Ellipses are three spaced dots, used to indicate that part of a quotation has been omitted. They are not used to connect thoughts. Ellipses are not the lazy man's transitional phrase.

Come on, America. Get it together.

Tuesday, May 27, 2003

DeVotchka played at the Bluebird Theatre in Denver last Friday night. I can barely describe the involuntary euphoria I felt throughout the show. There were times when the combination of words and music caused blissful tears. Colorado-based and named from A Clockwork Orange, DeVotchka is comprised of four very talented, very versatile musicians.

The show began with the lights dimmed and two powerful trumpets pulsating off the balcony above the audience. Evoking silence and chills throughout the crowd, the trumpets sounded off while an upright bass and a violin played on-stage. As the group finally joined together, the instruments were replaced with an accordian, a sousaphone, drums, a harmonica and a guitar.

With lyrics in English, the band produces a vaguely-Latin-esque musical sound, blended with both Russian Folk and Middle Eastern Arabesque melodies. Pair the impeccable harmony with the 1950s-esque croonings of the sexy lead singer and you have a stunningly unforgettable performance.

[DeVotcka is: Nick Urata--Vocals, Guitar, Trumpet; Tom Hagerman--Violin, Accordian; Jeanie Schroder--Sousaphone, Upright Bass; Shawn King--Drums, Trumpet]

Thursday, May 22, 2003

I think I want Colin Powell to be our president. A strong, sensible well-spoken leader. I think we should demand his presence in the next election. Can he switch to the Independent ticket? He knows what is what.

He may not have a Presidential Ego but he his sense of dignity, morality and clarity are enough for me

The end.

Wednesday, May 21, 2003

My high school's ten year reunion is this August. I don't know that I want to go. For what? To score one for victory at the expense of all the girls that got really fat with seventeen babies and a drunk, unfaithful husband? To feel better about myself because I didn't wind up that way? To be hit on by a bunch of lame almost-30-year old men in whom I wasn't interested ten years ago and assuredly won't be now? To laugh at everyone with the friends I still talk to? Okay, okay, so that's the real reason for going. How awful.

I told Stephanie that I would only go if I can get really drunk and swear a lot.

Tuesday, May 20, 2003

Janine and I went out for a drink on Sunday.

I ordered my usual: vodka tonic with a lime:

waitress: what kind of vodka do you want?
me: well is fine.
waitress: you don't want a particular kind of vodka?
me: no, well is fine.
waitress: you don't want Smirnoff?
me: isn't it more expensive?
waitress: yes, but only 25 cents more.
me: no, really. well is fine.
waitress: okay. i need to see some id.
[i hand her my license. she examines it.]
waitress: hey, we have the same birthday.
me: yeah, but you were born in 1981 or something, weren't you?
waitress 1982.
me: same thing.
[waitress walks away.]
janine: how did you know she was so young? she looks older than us.
me: because she was convinced that spending 25 cents more for crappy Smirnoff vodka is worth it.
janine: oh.
me: if i ask for well, it's because i want well. if i want to pay for vodka, i'll ask for Grey Goose.
janine: good point.

Monday, May 19, 2003

I watched the Bachelor last night. My first ever complete viewing of a reality show, save for The Real World circa Puck. It was gut-wrenching, that final episode was. We were rooting for the nice girl, the girl we could all be friends with. We hissed and booed when that mean old Kirsten entered the scene. If she wins, we told each other, it means we have lost. If that guy, seemingly stable and sweet, picks the spite-filled and catty yet gold-digging primadonna, it means that there is no hope for any of us. It means our years of efforts to be sweet and considerate, educated and well-spoken--that all means nothing. Because we will lose.

Luckily, our television hero did pick the girl on our team, after many a suspense-filled commercial break.

Also to note that since this is a reality show I know something about, I can contribute something to office conversation. Usually I just duck my head and mutter something about not watching television. Not today.

Today I can begin a conversation with, 'Did you see the Bachelor last night? I thought I was going to throw up when it looked like Jen was going to lose!'

Naturally, lively conversation ensues. Finally, since the time when the New Kids were hanging tough, I understand what it's like to be part of popular culture. Giddyup.

That's real fucking clever, you fucking idiot.

Stop it.

Tuesday, May 13, 2003


Admire our newly colored twenty dollar bill. Are we trying to one-up Europe? That's their thing, not ours.

Countdown to statistics final continues. Imagine me, trying not to collapse from angst. Reviewing everything from the beginning, avoiding all distractions, study, study, study and... nothing. Still not there. Am destined to be a statistics moron. I don't need you or anybody. Stupid statistics. You're nothing to me.
The end.

Trans Fatty Nothing.

eat me.  eat me.

These babies are just plain good.

We are moments away from mind control. Get ready. Stop thinking. Now.

trying to work this all out.

i will know vengeance.


Monday, May 12, 2003

Isn't this called gerrymandering?
Isn't this illegal?

It's me on my birthday.
Flowers from Jenni.

Interesting how many Britons who made the cross-over to American celeb are on the list.

On second thought, isn't this a list of every British celebrity?

referred by Nik Rawlinson.

Friday, May 09, 2003

Another thing they were interested in was in defecating and urinating all over the keyboard.

Ha. Give monkeys the chance and they will tell you what is what. They're not going to waste their time on Shakespeare. They'll get down to business.

Thursday, May 08, 2003

Recent phone call from dear East Coast cousin vacationing in sunny Las Vegas:

me: hello?
Jenni: hi.
me: hi.
Jenni: Becky, the thing is, the thing is... are you near Adams County?
me: um, I think so. Why?
Jenni: There are tornadoes touching down there. They're headed to Denver.
me: okay. the sky is pretty gray.
Jenni: okay. I'm in Las Vegas. I thought you should know about the tornadoes.
me: thanks.
Jenni: bye.
me: bye.

Update: coworkers inform me that we are in Adams County. these tornadoes are buzz of office talk this afternoon.

Update: thunder is shaking building.

Today's Morning Radio Surprise Song:
Down by the water.
come back here and give me my daughter...

The note from my landlord/houseowner last night read: We're getting satellite television tomorrow! I know you don't watch a lot of television... Over 200 channels!

My note back read: I am going to start watching a lot of television now.

Wednesday, May 07, 2003

Today's Morning Radio Surprise Song:
Rabbit in Your Headlights by u.n.k.l.e.
Performed by Thom Yorke.
fat bloody fingers are sucking your soul away...

This morning saw the continuation of my marathon initiative. Am working toward consistent six minute miles. Am close. Can feel it.

[ed. note: Shawnna has just reported to me that my dream of six minute miles is not as easy as two consecutive weeks at the gym. that can't be so, i insist.]

Tuesday, May 06, 2003

Today's Morning Radio Surprise Song:
The Whores Hustle and The Hustlers Whore.

Today's Greatest Annoyance: People repeatedly ordering me to 'Smile!' Why do I need to smile so you feel better? What if I want to frown? What, I can't frown?

Why Being Told to Smile Bugs the Heck Out of Me by Rebecca:

  • I don't go around telling fat girls to lose weight.
  • Smiling all the time is for crazy people.
  • Perhaps I was in deep thought, interrupted by your trite command to 'smile!'
  • Don't you tell me what I need to do.
  • The end.

    P.S. If you tell me to smile and I don't want to, don't challenge it. I've obviously decided I don't want my facial expressions to be commanded and don't want to hear, 'But you're such a pretty girl when you smile!' What the fuck.

    Monday, May 05, 2003

    After I got back from the gym this morning, I thought I'd see what early morning television had to offer. Mtv had its 21st century edition of Yo! mtv raps or something so I gave that a watch for three or six minutes. Imagine my surprise at the junk being offered our youth at six in the morning. It was awful!

    There was this horrifying Jennifer Lopez video, filmed under the guise of an audition, which of course gives her an opportunity to prance around Jennifer Beals circa Flashdance style in a leotard and little else. Occasionally wet. Of course.

    Then there was this astoundingly bad video in which three or four very attractive women stand in front of a Las Vegas-style sign lit by lightbulbs, reading DAMN. Cue to the rapper, who would say a word or two. Scroll back to the ladies, who harmonize Damn, then rapper repeats Damn, then ladies say Damn again.


    The one morning's redemption was a great song called something like I Can by somebody big but I can't recall who. Not Nelly. Oh! Nas! It was all motivating and telling girls not to dress slutty and telling youths they can be anything and not to do drugs and remember: Africa was once ruled by kings. Africa is where it all started.

    I think it's a great trend for rap. Come on, role models. Come out, come out.

    If the truth is told, the youth can grow

    They learn to survive until they gain control

    Nobody says you have to be gangstas, hoes

    Read more learn more, change the globe

    Ghetto children, do your thing

    [ed. note: I see that this video has been released for over two months. Um, I should really try to watch Mtv more often.]

    Friday, May 02, 2003

    Happy birthday to me.

    Every year, I vow to be a beacon of hush on my birthday. I'm not going to tell anyone it's my birthday, I think to myself. I imagine that three weeks from now, someone finds out that my birthday was three weeks ago and exclaims in surprise, "You Didn't Tell Us It Was Your Birthday!" Mystery will surround me.

    It never works though.

    This morning, the first question posed to me is "Rebecca, why are you so tired this morning?"

    um, out late last night, i answer.

    "Rebecca, you need sleep. You still haven't adjusted to the time change. What are you doing going out? You're going to make yourself sick!"

    um, I answer, [thinking: mystery, mystery...] it's My Birthday! [end mystery.]

    Thursday, May 01, 2003


    Read this: AP Headline Casts Palestinians as Victims of Tel Aviv Terror Attack

    And then read this: Israeli Troops Kill 12 Palestinians

    I'm not saying any of it is fair. Or right. Or makes sense. But jeez, be consistent. The first article is fairly astounding and second article fails to mention in its headline that the Palestinians were 'masked gunmen.'

    Down with media slants.

    Oh! A new Yahoo article! Israeli Troops Raid Gaza; Infant Among 12 Palestinians Killed

    Compare that story to this one: Chicago Tribune Headline Bias.