Work is one thing. Working off site? Another. "Working" out of state? Can get to you.
I managed a speedy scramble in the hotel gym, growing flustered when the built in TV doesn't seem to pick up any reception and I'm forced to listen to the grind of the track instead of tuning out to whatever is playing. (Eventually, 2.5 miles into 3 I find a channel...Stock Reports. Fun.) I'm running late as usual and I'm supposed to meet my co-worker in the lobby in 15 minutes. I make it back to the room swilling coffee and water before taking a very fast shower and heading down to the lobby. It's here, where I should mention the travel hairspray I purchased works very well- by which I mean to say it kept my hair pasted down and immobile in spite of my attempts to "floompf" it out. And I was still sweating profusely when we got to the office. It would be the 2nd time in my working life when co-worker looked at me to see if I'm okay when it's just "I was doing speed-work an hour ago!" Frass.
We attend a few meetings before performing some "shadowing" and...it's here I need to derail for a sec:
1) It's interesting to interact with Vegas "residents" proper. The one's who avoid the strip, the tourons. That go to work, then the grocery store, then home. Nevada is their home. Not that this is a huge deal. Just worth noting that most folks dealing with Vegas only tend to know the strip. They're people. And...
2) It struck me that, in a state that can provide outdoor type activities- year round- in a 4 state area? It seemed that a lot of them weren't very active. It was qualified to me that most people can only manage 1.5 mile walks at a time 9 months out of the year...still. We don't like going outside 6 months out of the year...and we seem kind of. I don't know. More active? Ambulatory? Willing to get outside to enjoy nature?
Through happenstance, I shadowed with a dude who was a runner and heading to Long Beach for a 1/2 Mary and he made these comments to me. (He lives 1/2 mile away but biking was out of the question, stating he'd be sweaty- then inside the blasting a.c. and miserable for the rest of the day while he dried) The guy was cool, and actually invited me to the UNLV track to do hill work with the running club he was a part of. Tempting. But we had plans. Next time, I exclaimed. *
After lunch at Super-Tex and a few more meetings (Whyyyy? Corporations, hear me. Do NOT schedule meetings right after lunch. During? Sure. The rest of us will be propping our eyelids open with paper clips) we finally made it back to the hotel after a very long day. My reward for this productivity: My co-worker wanting to meet in the lobby at 5pm to figure out dinner. (I balked and said 6. And that if we weren't getting sushi- my first choice- then we were getting seafood.)
And finally...your buddy gets his hot tub. In the rain. And I didn't care.
Showing posts with label WTF. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WTF. Show all posts
Thursday, October 06, 2011
I don't remember those people...(pt 3)
I like to nap. A lot. And after a mildly stressful day, I felt it my civic duty as a resident of the state of MN to diplomatically bring the nap to the Southwest. (And really...it was an attractively large bed.) We had agreed to meet up and make a plan for dinner and after I had tucked myself in and checked my online business- I got busy burying myself in the sheets...
Until the phone rang at a decibel level reserved for 12 year olds on the roller coaster. It was the front desk. Making sure I was checked in and settled in all right. Yes, I said. I was just downstairs procuring my key not 20 minutes ago. Thank you.
And then my cell. My boss wanted to know if we'd settled on anything for dinner. (Again, with the settling.) After a flurry of texts, she bowed out and left it up to my co-worker and I to figure out. I pulled the sheets back up, started to fade again, when the screaming ringer went off on the phone. Again. This time it was the co-worker asking if I'd came up with any ideas for dinner. I said I'd meet her in the lobby in 15 minutes and after checking to see that I hadn't wet the bed due to being startled a second time, we headed out.
I decided that instead of picking something close to the hotel we'd drive toward the strip and see if anything floated our fancy. This parlayed into a trip down the strip and...wow. Every time I go to Vegas, it feels like the strip gets longer. (Mostly this can be attributed to traffic, but as it was a Monday night ,traffic was reasonably light) While snapping camera pics she asked me where "downtown" was. So I said "let's go". And go we did. (Sad note- "The Sahara" is now gone baby gone. No particular memory of that place, just kind of sad seeing a big, dark casino with the unused roller coaster in front.) We passed the glut of bail bonds offices, nasty hotels, and drive-through casinos before hitting downtown proper, circling the block, and finally parking at the 4 Queens.
And WTF...
Downtown is a great place to "come down" after an all day gamble/party binge. I stayed at the Nugget a few years back and while it wasn't the popular part of town, I liked the old-school chill feeling. And while it still retains some of that, it's going through some growing pains experienced by the Vegas Strip "proper". Namely...the characters. And not the tour-ons. I mean how I had to slam on the brakes in the rental to let Jack Sparrow cross "drunkedly". Earlier, my co-worker asked why I don't take a theater gig in Vegas. Reasons aside, I told her that the good Captain there was probably the best role someone like myself could hope to land.
Except it didn't really end with that...weird...anachronistic dude. We had, in addition to the showgirls who posed for pictures:
The Blues Brothers
The Mad Hatter (from the "Alice" remake)
Some guys that looked like the Rat Pack waaaaaay past their prime
Spider-Man...in one of those costumes in a bag from around 1998. (I later bumped into Spidey who had taken off most of his costume, where it was being worn almost like a scarf. I guess he was off-duty)
It just didn't make sense. After dinner, where we eavesdropped on an East Coast family yelling at each other ("If I had my way, I'd feed you to a wood-chipper and am it at the Hudson!") we meandered a bit before realizing that we hit a two-beer wall and needed to go home. (It was "only" 10:00 pm...but we were still rocking CST time) We were released from the parking ramp for free (I didn't know it needed validation, and the guy was offended we didn't do any gambling in the casino) And we slowly ambled our way back to the Marriott via the back roads to avoid the Strip...long and loud bolts of lightening mottling the sky.
Until the phone rang at a decibel level reserved for 12 year olds on the roller coaster. It was the front desk. Making sure I was checked in and settled in all right. Yes, I said. I was just downstairs procuring my key not 20 minutes ago. Thank you.
And then my cell. My boss wanted to know if we'd settled on anything for dinner. (Again, with the settling.) After a flurry of texts, she bowed out and left it up to my co-worker and I to figure out. I pulled the sheets back up, started to fade again, when the screaming ringer went off on the phone. Again. This time it was the co-worker asking if I'd came up with any ideas for dinner. I said I'd meet her in the lobby in 15 minutes and after checking to see that I hadn't wet the bed due to being startled a second time, we headed out.
I decided that instead of picking something close to the hotel we'd drive toward the strip and see if anything floated our fancy. This parlayed into a trip down the strip and...wow. Every time I go to Vegas, it feels like the strip gets longer. (Mostly this can be attributed to traffic, but as it was a Monday night ,traffic was reasonably light) While snapping camera pics she asked me where "downtown" was. So I said "let's go". And go we did. (Sad note- "The Sahara" is now gone baby gone. No particular memory of that place, just kind of sad seeing a big, dark casino with the unused roller coaster in front.) We passed the glut of bail bonds offices, nasty hotels, and drive-through casinos before hitting downtown proper, circling the block, and finally parking at the 4 Queens.
And WTF...
Downtown is a great place to "come down" after an all day gamble/party binge. I stayed at the Nugget a few years back and while it wasn't the popular part of town, I liked the old-school chill feeling. And while it still retains some of that, it's going through some growing pains experienced by the Vegas Strip "proper". Namely...the characters. And not the tour-ons. I mean how I had to slam on the brakes in the rental to let Jack Sparrow cross "drunkedly". Earlier, my co-worker asked why I don't take a theater gig in Vegas. Reasons aside, I told her that the good Captain there was probably the best role someone like myself could hope to land.
Except it didn't really end with that...weird...anachronistic dude. We had, in addition to the showgirls who posed for pictures:
The Blues Brothers
The Mad Hatter (from the "Alice" remake)
Some guys that looked like the Rat Pack waaaaaay past their prime
Spider-Man...in one of those costumes in a bag from around 1998. (I later bumped into Spidey who had taken off most of his costume, where it was being worn almost like a scarf. I guess he was off-duty)
It just didn't make sense. After dinner, where we eavesdropped on an East Coast family yelling at each other ("If I had my way, I'd feed you to a wood-chipper and am it at the Hudson!") we meandered a bit before realizing that we hit a two-beer wall and needed to go home. (It was "only" 10:00 pm...but we were still rocking CST time) We were released from the parking ramp for free (I didn't know it needed validation, and the guy was offended we didn't do any gambling in the casino) And we slowly ambled our way back to the Marriott via the back roads to avoid the Strip...long and loud bolts of lightening mottling the sky.
Monday, October 03, 2011
Vega...wow...it's still hot. pt 2
(Part two)
So in spite of being violated, spilled-on (a woman dropped her latte' in the terminal and it ran down the back of my leg) and wedged in a teeny seat, the flight was on-time and underwhelming. I ended up making small talk with the woman next to me. (Nursing doctorate that works at Mayo in the pediatric ward, attending a convention at the Hilton. For five days. My idea of hell, but that's just my opinion...man) I gave her some show ideas that I'd enjoyed in the past (gently advising against "Thunder from Down Under"), talked business "self-help" books (She was reading "Who moved my Cheese" and I said that- for my money- "Gung Ho" was both satisfying and helpful without being too cloying)
I did get up to make potty once on the trip. I didn't really have to go, mind you, but I was itching to see what was in that envelope that had (clearly) been stashed since 2006 or so. So locked in the Delta flight 1517 toilet I ended up making the "discovered cash in a pocket" discovery of the year. I rarely get to brag, and am frequently poor- having just spent $450 on my car before I left...and while it wasn't close to that, it gave me enough folding money to cover meals on my own, and even a show/craps table if I wanted to play. I closed my eyes and thought a very sincere "thanks, dad" before returning to my seat.
When we landed, we hit a 'Bucks for some wake-up juice and both were lamenting that we were both sweating balls. Big-time. I had spent the first hour of the flight leaning forward in my seat while back-swass ran down and pinching open my shirt front to let the cabin fan do some work. We booked it to our rental place where we waited in line for nearly an hour- joking with other patrons, making fun of the Vegas Plastic Surgery commercial on the TV hawking ass implants ("Sometimes...you want to take the wallet OUT of the jeans and set it on top...") We then hurriedly sent to the garage...where we proceeded to wait. Some more. ("There's the GD Hyundai right there. Right. There. What exactly are we waiting for?" Please note, we both were getting more and more surly the more we had to wait. It was nearing 1pm and neither of us had eaten anything since before 7am) Sure enough, after group upon group had been given their chariots, someone finally looked at our receipt and was all like "Ohhhh. That silver Hyundai over there is yours!" No. F#cking. Shit. Vegas, you were winning at this point. I admit.
We ended up getting lost (her GPS on her phone sent us in the opposite direction of our office. This did, however, get me re-acclimated with the streets again. Nothing says helping your "internal GPS" like getting lost in a town and being forced to find the right way again. Did I mention I was playing Maverick to her Goose because, and I quote: "My husband thinks it's a good idea if you drive. I'd get way too mad. At everyone"
We finally found our office. We finally found the restaurant. The weather was cooling off from the high-80's (when we left home, it was 50 degrees at the airport) and...wait. Why does it smell rainy?
Kaboom. You know in Minnie when we have a thunder boomie storm? Sure it'll like up the sky. Sure it'll wake you up sometimes when it's right over head. In Vegas? It's like you stare right into a camera flash while someone hits a pair of cymbals behind your head...and then? It rains.
A lot. And the rain has no where to go. In Minnie, we freak out a lot when underpasses are submerged. We saw pics of NE Minneapolis and Uptown where cars were submerged up to their wheel wells and thought "Whoa!" And if you've been here, or heard stories about Vegas rainstorms then you know they're rare and only last for a few minutes. Well here now, at 6pm Pacific time...it's dumping rain. And driving in it? Peeps, there are NO streets that AREN'T submerged. At one point we both looked around for parking lots that might be on a hill. I even started frassin' about my brakes.
Eventually, we made it to Albertsons (think "Kowalskis"). And I procured hairspray. We're nearing civilization, now. And it's here I should mention that, in going through my packing I packed more running/gym clothes than I did work clothes.
So in spite of being violated, spilled-on (a woman dropped her latte' in the terminal and it ran down the back of my leg) and wedged in a teeny seat, the flight was on-time and underwhelming. I ended up making small talk with the woman next to me. (Nursing doctorate that works at Mayo in the pediatric ward, attending a convention at the Hilton. For five days. My idea of hell, but that's just my opinion...man) I gave her some show ideas that I'd enjoyed in the past (gently advising against "Thunder from Down Under"), talked business "self-help" books (She was reading "Who moved my Cheese" and I said that- for my money- "Gung Ho" was both satisfying and helpful without being too cloying)
I did get up to make potty once on the trip. I didn't really have to go, mind you, but I was itching to see what was in that envelope that had (clearly) been stashed since 2006 or so. So locked in the Delta flight 1517 toilet I ended up making the "discovered cash in a pocket" discovery of the year. I rarely get to brag, and am frequently poor- having just spent $450 on my car before I left...and while it wasn't close to that, it gave me enough folding money to cover meals on my own, and even a show/craps table if I wanted to play. I closed my eyes and thought a very sincere "thanks, dad" before returning to my seat.
When we landed, we hit a 'Bucks for some wake-up juice and both were lamenting that we were both sweating balls. Big-time. I had spent the first hour of the flight leaning forward in my seat while back-swass ran down and pinching open my shirt front to let the cabin fan do some work. We booked it to our rental place where we waited in line for nearly an hour- joking with other patrons, making fun of the Vegas Plastic Surgery commercial on the TV hawking ass implants ("Sometimes...you want to take the wallet OUT of the jeans and set it on top...") We then hurriedly sent to the garage...where we proceeded to wait. Some more. ("There's the GD Hyundai right there. Right. There. What exactly are we waiting for?" Please note, we both were getting more and more surly the more we had to wait. It was nearing 1pm and neither of us had eaten anything since before 7am) Sure enough, after group upon group had been given their chariots, someone finally looked at our receipt and was all like "Ohhhh. That silver Hyundai over there is yours!" No. F#cking. Shit. Vegas, you were winning at this point. I admit.
We ended up getting lost (her GPS on her phone sent us in the opposite direction of our office. This did, however, get me re-acclimated with the streets again. Nothing says helping your "internal GPS" like getting lost in a town and being forced to find the right way again. Did I mention I was playing Maverick to her Goose because, and I quote: "My husband thinks it's a good idea if you drive. I'd get way too mad. At everyone"
We finally found our office. We finally found the restaurant. The weather was cooling off from the high-80's (when we left home, it was 50 degrees at the airport) and...wait. Why does it smell rainy?
Kaboom. You know in Minnie when we have a thunder boomie storm? Sure it'll like up the sky. Sure it'll wake you up sometimes when it's right over head. In Vegas? It's like you stare right into a camera flash while someone hits a pair of cymbals behind your head...and then? It rains.
A lot. And the rain has no where to go. In Minnie, we freak out a lot when underpasses are submerged. We saw pics of NE Minneapolis and Uptown where cars were submerged up to their wheel wells and thought "Whoa!" And if you've been here, or heard stories about Vegas rainstorms then you know they're rare and only last for a few minutes. Well here now, at 6pm Pacific time...it's dumping rain. And driving in it? Peeps, there are NO streets that AREN'T submerged. At one point we both looked around for parking lots that might be on a hill. I even started frassin' about my brakes.
Eventually, we made it to Albertsons (think "Kowalskis"). And I procured hairspray. We're nearing civilization, now. And it's here I should mention that, in going through my packing I packed more running/gym clothes than I did work clothes.
Thursday, June 02, 2011
Mama called them my MAGIC shoes...(Race day)
Pictured: "Team Awesome"- Moda, Cap'n Dawn, Matthus, and some dude wearing a chopped up Spider-Man T-shirt in the interest of standing out and looking cool. Also note the MP3 player, slowly on it's way to working loose and being held for the remainder of the run. (ps- This was about mile 2 or so. So we're still pretty fresh and smiley) From the Mpls Half-Marathon 2010.
Well coming up on another half-Mary this Sunday and I've been getting more and more excited. Moda, Feej, and I will be carbing up on Friday. Packet Pick-Up will be on Saturday. And I'll be up and biking to the starting line bright and stupidly early on Sunday. Hooray!
My propensity for waxing nostalgic notwithstanding, I gotta say that it feels (this time around anyway) pretty chill going in. What I mean is, last year around this time I was a little nervous and not what you'd call the "Acme of Anticipation". Kind of the opposite, actually. And what happened? It wasn't what you'd call "calamitous"...(Oh...was it another bullet list you wanted?) Well, to recap before the race...
-I had only been "Training" training for a little over 2 months, with my longest run up until that point having been an 8-9 mile trail trot that I half-walked.
-The longest race I'd completed was the GIG 10K.
-Papa wanted himself a GOOD night sleep, so on top of the pre-race carbing and beers he made sure to put back a few V and T's.
-Papa ate himself a nice big breakfast and over a gallon of water. Then shotgunned another beer for some extra carbs.
-And we biked in the chilly morning over to the Depot SUPER early. Papa stretched and bitched and frassed and finally made two potty stops before the race began.
As for the race itself? Well the 1st four miles or so were okay. A+D were there to cheer. At mile 3 I was all flexing my arms for the friends I saw and just trying to keep pace with my group. By mile 5 Moda had powered on. By mile 6 I thought "This is nearly a 10K distance. I feel like I'm going soooo far". Also, this is where some of the half-marathoners were already powering back) By mile 7-8 I had already started (mostly) walking and having trouble taking deep breaths. By mile 12-13 I was hallucinating that non-existent friends were cheering me on and regretting the GU packet I swiped at the last water stop. (My bottle you see in the picture above? Bone dry)
I nearly crawled over the finish line. (I was happy I didn't puke.) I could barely stand and found myself quietly resentful that we had decided to bike there in the first place. The only things that made it worthwhile (besides sitting down) was the applause from some people who saw us at the Bulldog afterwards and recognized that we had just ran the race...and the dumb heavy-ass medal. (BTW- I finished in a little over 2:40, I think) And while they weren't bleeding...it certainly felt like someone had given me a titty twister. Ouch.
So why've I flipped? I don't know. I had an analogy in mind regarding people who jump out of an airplane for the first time and are scared but who then love subsequent jumps. So it's kiiind of like that? There's the prep. We've put up some heavy miles over the last year or so. I've logged quite a few more 12+ milers outside now and have actually ran them versus stopping to puke/walk. I've felt better on hills. We've run parts of the course again during training. I've been rocking the minimalist shoes and Vibrams. I've got some very good friends running it (for the first time. We'll have many high-fives to trade, Feej) And as opposed to last year with the dreaded fatalist mindset of "I just want to finish" I have a few new ones I've adopted for this year:
"I want to run the whole course and not walk"
"I'm not trippin' about my PR, but will be happy to finish sub-2:25 or 2:20" (I have a matinee, you see)
"I want to finish strong"
"I'm running my own race for me"
Pretty straight forward. I'm really digging on the Half-Mary's. I read an article in RW that they've been picking up momentum as the "challenging race of choice" for people who are on the fence about running a marathon or just want to get their toes wet in the running world. And who knows, maybe I'll eventually nut-up and try a full-Mary. (Gods know I'm proud/excited/worried for and about Moda doing Gramma's Mary the following weekend) It's just nice to know I have the option. Nicer still to know that in my head, I'd like to keep doing long-runs on the weekend with buddies around the nabe, around the lakes...just in case there's a half-Mary lurking around this summer we wanna jump into. Ha-HA!
So I'm hoping (fingers-crossed...barring an accident or injury) that the following picture you see below? The one I'll ask to take post-race this year? That'll be me, except standing up and smiling. Not squatting and grimacing in pain.
ps- I lied. There was a 3rd thing that made the run worthwhile and I would be remiss to forget to mention it: The people who come out to cheer. Last year I might've veered off course or knocked someone out of a wheelchair so I didn't have to run anymore if it wasn't for the people cheering us on and holding signs. Race fans improve the morale of the runners (IMO) exorbitantly, and I'd go so far as to say we really depend on that energy when we're digging deep. So if you're downtown this Sunday in the early a.m. Bring a chair, cop a squat, and clap yer hands. You'll have thousands of people grateful that you did.
Well coming up on another half-Mary this Sunday and I've been getting more and more excited. Moda, Feej, and I will be carbing up on Friday. Packet Pick-Up will be on Saturday. And I'll be up and biking to the starting line bright and stupidly early on Sunday. Hooray!
My propensity for waxing nostalgic notwithstanding, I gotta say that it feels (this time around anyway) pretty chill going in. What I mean is, last year around this time I was a little nervous and not what you'd call the "Acme of Anticipation". Kind of the opposite, actually. And what happened? It wasn't what you'd call "calamitous"...(Oh...was it another bullet list you wanted?) Well, to recap before the race...
-I had only been "Training" training for a little over 2 months, with my longest run up until that point having been an 8-9 mile trail trot that I half-walked.
-The longest race I'd completed was the GIG 10K.
-Papa wanted himself a GOOD night sleep, so on top of the pre-race carbing and beers he made sure to put back a few V and T's.
-Papa ate himself a nice big breakfast and over a gallon of water. Then shotgunned another beer for some extra carbs.
-And we biked in the chilly morning over to the Depot SUPER early. Papa stretched and bitched and frassed and finally made two potty stops before the race began.
As for the race itself? Well the 1st four miles or so were okay. A+D were there to cheer. At mile 3 I was all flexing my arms for the friends I saw and just trying to keep pace with my group. By mile 5 Moda had powered on. By mile 6 I thought "This is nearly a 10K distance. I feel like I'm going soooo far". Also, this is where some of the half-marathoners were already powering back) By mile 7-8 I had already started (mostly) walking and having trouble taking deep breaths. By mile 12-13 I was hallucinating that non-existent friends were cheering me on and regretting the GU packet I swiped at the last water stop. (My bottle you see in the picture above? Bone dry)
I nearly crawled over the finish line. (I was happy I didn't puke.) I could barely stand and found myself quietly resentful that we had decided to bike there in the first place. The only things that made it worthwhile (besides sitting down) was the applause from some people who saw us at the Bulldog afterwards and recognized that we had just ran the race...and the dumb heavy-ass medal. (BTW- I finished in a little over 2:40, I think) And while they weren't bleeding...it certainly felt like someone had given me a titty twister. Ouch.
So why've I flipped? I don't know. I had an analogy in mind regarding people who jump out of an airplane for the first time and are scared but who then love subsequent jumps. So it's kiiind of like that? There's the prep. We've put up some heavy miles over the last year or so. I've logged quite a few more 12+ milers outside now and have actually ran them versus stopping to puke/walk. I've felt better on hills. We've run parts of the course again during training. I've been rocking the minimalist shoes and Vibrams. I've got some very good friends running it (for the first time. We'll have many high-fives to trade, Feej) And as opposed to last year with the dreaded fatalist mindset of "I just want to finish" I have a few new ones I've adopted for this year:
"I want to run the whole course and not walk"
"I'm not trippin' about my PR, but will be happy to finish sub-2:25 or 2:20" (I have a matinee, you see)
"I want to finish strong"
"I'm running my own race for me"
Pretty straight forward. I'm really digging on the Half-Mary's. I read an article in RW that they've been picking up momentum as the "challenging race of choice" for people who are on the fence about running a marathon or just want to get their toes wet in the running world. And who knows, maybe I'll eventually nut-up and try a full-Mary. (Gods know I'm proud/excited/worried for and about Moda doing Gramma's Mary the following weekend) It's just nice to know I have the option. Nicer still to know that in my head, I'd like to keep doing long-runs on the weekend with buddies around the nabe, around the lakes...just in case there's a half-Mary lurking around this summer we wanna jump into. Ha-HA!
So I'm hoping (fingers-crossed...barring an accident or injury) that the following picture you see below? The one I'll ask to take post-race this year? That'll be me, except standing up and smiling. Not squatting and grimacing in pain.
ps- I lied. There was a 3rd thing that made the run worthwhile and I would be remiss to forget to mention it: The people who come out to cheer. Last year I might've veered off course or knocked someone out of a wheelchair so I didn't have to run anymore if it wasn't for the people cheering us on and holding signs. Race fans improve the morale of the runners (IMO) exorbitantly, and I'd go so far as to say we really depend on that energy when we're digging deep. So if you're downtown this Sunday in the early a.m. Bring a chair, cop a squat, and clap yer hands. You'll have thousands of people grateful that you did.
Wednesday, April 06, 2011
How I know the world is going to hell...
Some bastard has requested they change the programming on my ("my") treadmill from NBC to CBS. Unfortunately, what this means is that instead of my steady stream of news reporting that I'm accustomed to watching (It meant that, while funemployed, even if I hit the gym at 8am I was guaranteed another 2.5 hours of local and national news.)
Well now it seems that the programming ends at 9 and we're served up a pile of talk-show in the form of "Ellen". I have nothing against her, mind you. I think she was funny when she did stand up, had an unfortunate run of a luke-warm sit-com when hit sit-coms were starting to peter out creatively. And her show was actually kind of funny- Until I found out she pulls "Jackass" level stunts on her studio guests for her own amusement.
i.e. She's kind of a dick. She might as well find new ways of throwing Bam Margera into a snake pit.
Anyway, out of my peripheral vision from my ("my") treadmill I can usually rely on the noise provided by CNN which gives soundbites of news followed by hours of commercials telling us how awesome their reporters are, when they had a commercial showing their next segment about the tragedy in Japan, the radioactive waste leeching into the ocean, and their special correspondent (wait for it) "Bill Nye the Science Guy" was going to share his thoughts on the subject.
This is akin to interviewing Ronald McDonald about the a large recall of salmonella tainted beef. And apparently, it's news. *
*Speaking of beef, I guess the Porky's is gone the way of the dodo. I understand the sentiment that goes with a neighborhood restaurant closing and how it affects the community as well as long standing patrons. HOWever, the abruptness in which it announced it's closing and the subsequent mobs that turned out (yes. Mobs. Complete with pitchforks, torches et.al.) feels like they cheapened the event and could have maybe planned their swan song a little bit better- meaning gotten a lot more dough. Instead, they decided to create a scene. And I guess I don't approve.
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