Like a bad 'Sex and the City' episode ...

I had a visitor this weekend who we will call Stan. Stan had met me once but was so infatuated by me that he drove to my apartment in Minneapolis to hang out. I could have been more forward-thinking in agreeing to such an event, but I also didn't really know what I was agreeing to.

Friday was fine. I was tired and feeling sick so I just kind of laid around wrapped up in my shield of a blanket. Saturday I had to work. I take my shower and start getting ready. I open my medicine cabinet door and scan the shelves for my makeup only to find an uninvited object. A male toothbrush and toothpaste were perched next to my eye shadow and a tampon.

I continued getting ready and pushed the "oh my god I am in a TV sitcom" feeling down inside. It doesn't get better. As I am leaving work, this is the conversation we have:

Stan: So, what kind of milk do you drink?
Me: Skim...
Stan: Well, I'll pick up some milk while you're at work.
Me: No. There are no grocery stores around here.
Stan: Probably at the gas station. I'll get a gallon.
Me: No, I can get my own milk Monday.

He got milk anyway. I can get my own milk.

Then I get a letter in the mail that Stan had written earlier in the week. It was too much. My eyes are definitely not crystalline and my lips are just like my art teacher in elementary school taught- two ice cream scoops and a bowl. That's it. I delay reality at work and then huddle in my freezing car outside my apartment talking on the phone for an hour.

I finally go back into my apartment and ask him to go back home to dreamland where girls aren't so fiercely independent and don't mind if you call them at work to ask where the scoop is for the litter box (which I had cleaned the day before).

As he exits stage right, he recites me a poem he wrote. It's good but kind of awkward for a girl that just told him to hit the road. Other things I have since discovered: My winter coat is hung up in my closet, my towel was draped across a hanger and hung on a door, and there is a bottle of Dr Pepper in my fridge. Oh, and some fresh milk.

Guilty on all counts

Sarah Kolb was found guilty today on all two counts murder and one count of concealing a homicide.

This is a trial I covered in the Quad-Cities for my last job. I was so relieved I started to cry at work. I am dropping the allegedly from my talk about it since there is a conviction.

Read the story at qctimes.com and qconline.com. QConline has a "Beyond Print" blog that's good to read.

It's amazing how much of my own emotion was wrapped up in this retrial. After sitting through more than two weeks of testimony - hearing about how they cut off her head, threw away her necklace, burned her legs, ate at McDonalds afterwards - I was not unaffected. After Sarah testified in her own defense, which she did not do at this second trial, I called Johanna hysterical and cried for most of the evening. I still have a tape of Adrianne singing at a talent show that I have been unable to make it through more than 20 seconds of.

The pain that both families are feeling right now is almost too much to bear. I talked with both families though not in depth. I feel for the reporters who have sat through two trials now. You write without bias but your heart is not made of stone.

Justice was served the second time around. But yet, what is fair? That despite a legal victory the Reynold's family will never see their Adrianne again? That probably this verdict, as relieving as it is, signals another ending in their journey of grieving, just surfaces more pain. Or that a 17-year-old who no doubt had potential could quite possibly spend her natural life in prison? Or that Sarah's family is forced to accept the fact that no matter what they believe happened that January day, Sarah won't be coming home for Christmas ever again.

Surely, none of that is fair.

Delete forever

In Gmail's spam box there is a button that says "delete forever." Today I did some deleting forever that was needed a long time ago. It's so final.

It's interesting how we get older that other people just exit out of our lives. Sometimes you don't serve purposes in each other's lives anymore. Sometimes you lose all your common ground. And sometimes, you stop loving someone and are forced to delete them forever because of your own health. It's not easy, but it's so cleansing.

Fun reads for Monday

I have nothing to say to you people. But other people do.

Here are my favorite reads throughout my work day.

Politics for people with dirty minds and cynical attitudes



My new favorite Web site: The Superficial, Because You're Ugly
An excerpt from a posting about the Olsen twins

Here are Mary-Kate & Ashley Olsen, wandering through the halls of the Overlook Hotel. They're supposedly modeling something. Perhaps anorexia. Definitely not breast implants. Remember that big countdown to their eighteenth birthday, when everyone thought they were going to be so gorgeous? And then the birthday came and the world collectively scratched their heads, because screwing them seems about as pleasant as screwing the vacuum cleaner. At least the vacuum doesn't complain when you use a marker to draw boobs on it.

Finally, for the journalism disciples Poynter's Romensko. Check out today's stuff about the Mohammed cartoons and Dana Milbank's hunting costume.

Don't be such a Dick

I have refrained from commenting on the fact our vice president "sprayed" his friend with pellets. However, free press issues are now being discussed, and they are calling my name.

The Bush administration sucks at disclosure and communicating with the press. Perfect example, this Bush quote from last week: "I support the free press, let's just get them out of the room." Scott McClellan, on a spectrum of 10 being a CJ Craig and a zero being a robot, leans more toward 1.5.

The fact Cheney didn't run to the press with the information that he shot a man isn't surprising. He, his staff, ranch owner woman, the local police have no legal obligation to alert the press. It'd be nice and is essential for democracy and a good press, but he doesn't HAVE to. The Bush administration has never embraced the watchdog role of the press in government. Instead, Bush would be prefer to do the spying himself.

In order to have a watchdog role though, the press has to accept the higher standards that are traditionally attached to being a member of the Fourth Estate. That means being being unbiased and behaving like professionals. The man of the hour, Fox News' Brit Hume, does not abide by these standards, not that Fox promotes them. From the Washington Post:

Emily Rooney, a talk show host for Boston's WGBH-TV who worked with Hume at ABC News, praised Hume's intuitive grasp of politics. Hume has "never hidden" his conservative leanings, she said, and Cheney "chose Brit Hume for a reason -- because he's always given a fair hearing to the Republican Party, which not every journalist did along the way."

Hiding your biases and eliminating them from your life as a reporter is admirable and expected. Ol' Brit (who names their kid Brit?) obviously is proud of breaking the journalists' code. In all fairness, it's up to the elected officials to abide by their code and be open and honest with the public.

I say we stop playing the game. Stop the partisan name-calling. Stop hiding things. Stop worrying about corrupt lobbyists' placement in White House photos. Stop pretending like we can continue to play these games and be proud of our democracy.

Both sides- JUST STOP.

Goo and mush

Everyone hates Valentine's Day unless you're a love-sick teenager in a relationship or in elementary school. All of my good memories of this blasted holiday are in one of those two stages in life. It was all fun and games when it was a day of pink frosted cupcakes and Mickey Mouse cards that you had to give to everyone, even the gross kids. The other time I was 18 and it was my first Valentines Day with a real boyfriend. It was really good but after that it's been downhill. No matter if I am in a relationship or fabulously single, the day always falls short of expectations.

It's too much pressure on guys to do the perfect thing. Girls are hoping for the perfect romantic act that will save a relationship or further it. Save it for birthdays and anniversarys. Sheesh. If you're single, as I am now, you have to listen to everyone else's plans knowing full well these plans are going to turn up being not as exciting as planned. But yet, you're really freaking jealous.

Happily half a couple: "So what are your big plans tonight?"
Me: "Umm..drinking champagne out of a coffee mug, throwing rocks at happy people and watching American Idol."
Happily half a couple: "Oh..that's..nice."
Me (wearing black): "Yeah, I am pumped." Rolls eyes, walks away.

I did get some candy though. I ate it.

Keep a secret

I read "Can You Keep a Secret?" this weekend by Sophie Kinsella. This woman gets all her secrets broadcasted on national television. Funny. Here are my secrets, well the ones you can know.

I am annoyed the name and location on the blogger pages does not include a space after the colon. I only open my pop tabs halfway because it annoys everyone and the pop doesn't rush into my mouth and get all fizzy in my throat. I can't keep fingernail polish on longer than 24 hours because I get bored and pick it all off. I used to put glue on my hands, let it dry and then pick it all off - over and over again. I listen to NPR in the morning until they talk too much about becoming a member then I switch to alternative. Label makers fascinate me. Once a month I crave strawberries however they are currently $5 a pop which is way out of my budget for fruit. I hate most fruit. I like the jeans I am wearing because I think they make me look thin in the thigh and butt. I think most of my jeans do not do this. I hate cheesy Powerpoint layouts. I adore the fact that I have a blue U.S. postal box outside my work and the accessibility of these boxes was a consideration in choosing Minneapolis. My cat's litterbox is smelly. I buy the sweet and sour strawberry Trident gum and eat the sweet pieces when I need to be cheered up. I have no spatial perspective. I got no correct answers on this section on the IQ test. I do keep secrets. I wish I could have a do-over for my first three years of college. I skipped most of my last semester in high school. I hold grudges. I can't stand when people are slow walkers, travelers or thinkers. I wish my mom lived closer. I don't always know what state or country my dad is currently in. I have to pee but am holding it because I don't want to walk to the bathroom. I did this in middle school and my whole side would be shooting pain while I walked/ran home from school. I am terrified of dentists. I love taking Tylenol PM and would every night if I could. I hate when people touch my face. Roses are cliche and I would much rather get tulips. I still love roses. I don't know that I want to be a reporter. I feel like I am wasting my writing talent if I don't. I am scared of dying. I routinely think there is someone hiding in my apartment. I was scared of the book "David" when I was little because it was about a boy burned alive by his father. The book was blue with yellow writing. My mom had to take it to my Grandma's because I was so scared of it. I am still scared of it. I can't help but think negative thoughts about fat people. I had imaginary brothers and sisters that I talked to. I didn't like Big Brothers Big Sisters. When I read Jane Eyre in middle school I skipped 250 pages in the middle. I once slapped my best friend in the face in second grade. I won't drink milk more than a day after the date. I steal music. I have never looked at porn unless it popups in my face. I think I'd be happiest running an inn in an Italian village.

Italy, I miss you

I wish I were in Italy right now. Walking down those narrow streets, finding little shops or street artisans around every corner. Sipping wine at every meal and curling the pasta in my mouth. Then stopping at a gelato stand for the most fabulous taste my mouth has ever known.



I miss the canals in Venice and those annoying little men who sell the bundles of roses. And the exclaiming at all the Venetians could fit on boats- cops, garbage trucks, buses, etc. The island Murano where the jewelry is authentic, made right there with the hot iron melting the glass into amazing shapes.



Sometimes I wish I could spend a day in the art museums in Florence again. I wouldn't mind waiting three hours this time, and I'd probably appreciate the art a whole lot more. I could run my hands across the outside walls and doors of the cathedrals realizing how ancient they are. I'd wander into more neighborhood churches and hear the Italian verses and the corners with altars to saints surrounded by the glow of candles.

And in Rome, I'd wish harder at the Trevi Fountain and I'd make sure I again threw my coin facing the wrong way so to ensure I would return to Rome again.




I'd spend at least a week eating along Piazza Navona, and this time I would have one of those guys draw my potrait. And drink many more glasses of wine that clash just perfectly with the garlic and olive oil pasta.




More than that, I want to create new memories that belong only to me.

Hooked on cable

I don't know why I even felt the need to pay close to $90 a month for cable and Internet. I can afford it, I just don't need it. But I really think I might.

Without Internet, I wouldn't be able to talk to Jo or Christi or Layne for the 20 minutes a night we actually end up talking. Or what if I need to get to a grocery store or Home Depot? Driving around til I see one isn't really any option anymore seeing as how it took me 35 minutes to drive 3.1 miles today because it had snowed a couple of inches. God bless Mapquest.

Cable TV also an completely unnecessary item I think I need. I rarely watch any shows that are actually made in the last three years. Yet, I have 100 plus channels to lure me to sit on my ass for hours on end til I am tired enough to sleep. I have justified this purchase because the Olympics start tomorrow, which I am pumped about. Tonight though I watched a doctor stop a man with a bazooka in him from exploding, everybody loving Raymond and that damn movie preview where they tell the girl the calls are calling from inside the house which prompts me everytime to search my apartment for scary men with cell phones. This is completely irrational seeing as how my apartment is the size of a minivan and any intruder would probably have to step over me to actually hide anywhere.

Diets

The NY Times reported today that low-fat diets don't help reduce the risk of heart disease or cancer. The $415 million study found those who ate whatever the hell they wanted had the same rates of breast cancer, colon cancer, strokes and heart attacks as those of us who eat fruit and whole wheat bread. So really, if no one cared what they looked like and could afford two tickets for seats on the airplane, McDonalds' profit would soar. Not that they aren't doing well for themselves now. I unfortuantely do care what I look like so I will be continuing to eat lean cuisines for lunch.

Yesterday I had the nerve-wracking experience of forgetting a plastic fork to eat my lean cuisine. It seemed rather uncooth to attempt to eat my chicken and rice with my hands on my first day of work. Luckily I found a box of plastic silverware under the microwave in the office. Starvation avoided.

It begins

I have arrived.

Friday I carried so many loads of boxes and bags to the Uhaul that I lost count. My parents got to Davenport late and we stayed at a hotel. Saturday morning we cleaned up apartment and finished loading and then drove away. It's weird to think I probably won't be back there for years, if ever. I am too young to be living in a place called Davenport anyway.

When we got to Minneapolis, I signed my leased and some boys I didn't know that don't know me but know a guy that knows my dad's grad student showed up and carried all my stuff into my apartment. Thank goodness for boys.

Sunday we went to Ikea and got me an entertainment center that actually fits in my living room with couch, chair, etc. I didn't think anything would fit but it all does minus my kitchen table and chairs. Really, I don't eat at that table so it doesn't matter.

Today my mom and I hung some pictures, practiced driving to my work and ate breakfast/lunch at the cafe where I saw the cute guy but he was not working sadly. This afternoon, after saying goodbye to my mom, I ventured to the grocery store. It was expensive and busy. I had to park half a block away and actually repacked my bags so I could bring in half a load now and another later. I am going to Alison's later to watch The Bachelor. My cable doesn't get here til Thursday night. I am hijacking a wireless internet connection which people are actually probably stealing all my personal information as we speak. Thank goodness Bush is also spying on them as they spy on me.

Tomorrow I start work. It's cold here but not miserable. If I remember to wear gloves and mittens it's even less miserable. The traffic sucks, but it's still more fun to drive in. Once I figure out where to shop and things like that, it'll be easier. I am sure I'll carry index cards around with Mapquest directions for months though.

Speeches and ulcers

This is a cop out blog of several subjects crammed together to make up one entry. It's like all the sports columnists do when they are strapped for a topic.

Protesting in the Capitol: Crazy Cindy was arrested for disrupting the House Chambers with her anti-war t-shirt during the State of the Union. I will give her props for sticking to her cause and having such courage in exercising her First Amendment rights. However, it might be more effective in advancing her cause if she reevaluated her tactics. I don''t agree with her arrest, but she should be protesting the suppression of FA rights not the war if that's the tactics she uses.

The speech: I didn't watch the speech because I was otherwise occupied, however I have seen clips and read the stories. Funniest thing had to be Bush relaying how the Congress failed to act on his social security policy and all the Dems gave him a ironic standing ovation. Then of course, Bush says entitlements are still rising and the Repubs cheer.. in your face. Kids, kids.

Mouth ulcers: I have a very uncomfortable canker sore in between my cheek and lower gum. It hurts. I also have one on my front lower lip. Herpes of the mouth. Gross. I should at least get to kiss someone to get it instead of just being stressed. OK really cold sores are the contagious ones. But pretend. I am too tired to delete this and make the change.

Tonight is my goodbye dinner with a whopping five people. These really are the only five people I like so I am OK with it. Plus I get good Mexican food and maybe some tequila with margarita mix.