Happy Thanksgiving Eve

    

"What are you, a cat?" interrupts the G-Man, as he watches me climb up the back of the love seat. We were conversing about our Thanksgiving travel plans when I attempted to sprawl out across the back cushions. I had managed to wrap my arms and a leg around the cushions, while the other leg swung freely behind the love seat. 

I stopped, mid-crawl, and looked at him blankly.

"What, do you want me to come scratch your head now?" he asked.

My head perked up, and I expressed a small gasp of excitement, "Could you?"

**************************************************

If you're one of the lucky few who won't be hitting the road later tonight for a seven hour drive, then go get your drink on. It is, after all, one of the biggest nights for drinking (this fact can be verified with your friendly neighborhood bartender). 

For the rest of us poor suckers, drive safely, stay off of I-95, and don't forget your allergy meds because your sister-in-law has cats and last Thanksgiving you spent the entire night wheezing and sneezing.

Happy Thanksgiving. 

I have a point, I swear.

 

So the other day I was overwhelmed by jealousy when I read this post, In Which I Get Signed, by Badass Geek. To sum it up, he randomly scored a signed copy of Stephen King's new book, "Full Dark, No Stars" (which I'm reading right now), when he had some time to kill and wandered into a book store. I've been a Constant Reader since, well, middle school, so it's safe to assume that I'm a HUGE fan. So yeah, I was extremely jealous. 

Also, the other day, the G-Man dragged me to the mall, kicking and screaming. I really hate the mall. Alright, so maybe I wasn't kicking and screaming, but I'm sure I put up a bit of a fight, as I do every time he forces me to leave the house. Well, maybe not forces, but it comes pretty close to it, like that one time we were going to go skiing and it was so early, and I really didn't want to, and he literally dragged me out of bed and across the floor.

But anyways, we went to the mall, and after we exchanged the chipped and scratched dinnerware that we finally got around to ordering, we headed out to find some new sneaks for the G-Man, when his phone rang. It was one of his friends calling from Iraq. The G-Man's friend is a government contractor who volunteered to work in Iraq for a year in exchange for wads of money. But now he's having tons of personal issues with his wife and what not, who is still in the US, so the G-Man had to take the call. So, the G-Man found a bench to sit on while I went into the Gap to pick up some tops. 

When I emerged from the Gap, the G-Man was nowhere to be found as he had wandered off while on the phone, so... while he was conversing for the next hour, I meandered around the mall, trying to kill time, and trying not to get to pissed off since the whole reason we were at the mall was to look for new sneakers for the G-Man, who, as you may recall, abandoned me. Eventually we met up again, just in time for me to approve the color of the G-Man's sneakers. You see, he's colorblind, so he isn't always entirely sure of his color choices. Which is why I okayed the bluish-purple sneakers he ended up getting. You know, out of spite, for making me suffer the horrors of the mall on my own. Of course, he doesn't know that they have a tinge of purple to them, that's our little secret. Then again, sometimes he reads this blog, so I guess he probably does know that there is a tinge of purple in them, and now I'm probably in the dog house, but it serves him right. 

But the joke's really on him now (ha, ha!), because there is no purple in the sneakers, but now he's all self-conscious about them and wondering whether or not there is purple in them or not. Which means I'll now have to reassure him every day that they're blue and not purple. Shit. Guess the joke's on me then, huh? Back me up here guys, 'kay? No purple, right?

Right. That's our story and we're sticking to it. Speaking of stories, back to the real story...

So, I'm wandering around the mall, trying to kill time, when I decided to wander into a Borders, because, well, I can always use new reading material. While in there I picked up the new King book (see above), a couple of Neil Gaiman books, and a Christopher Moore book I haven't read yet, "Bite Me" (It's a love story).

Of course, little did I know, Borders was having this scam going on, Buy Four, Get the Fifth Free, and since I was already buying four books, they conned me into getting a fifth. Geesh. But anyways, while I was skimming the books in line, this happened to catch my eye:

Yeah, that's right, folks. I found my own signed copy of a book (and I checked, it's real, you can even see where the Sharpie bled through the backside of the page). 

And it all comes full circle.

Lost in translation.

  

The other day I had a student use the word puta in my classroom. I can only assume he thought that I, the ignorant white woman that I am, would have no idea what he was saying. Unfortunately for him, he was unaware of my extensive knowledge of foreign languages. In fact, I have have taken three different language classes. Combine that with my obvious mastery of the English language and the fact that my dad used to travel the seven seas, and you're looking at one multilingual individual right here, yessiree-Bob.

The following is an imaginary conversation I would have with someone who is just as dialectically educated as I. Enjoy. Hopefully you'll be able to learn a thing or two (oh, and in case you want to Google a translator and translate this convo, I'm providing you with a hand-dandy key to the various languages being used. Your welcome.) (My apologies to Twin in advance, who took way more French than me and hates it when I attempt to speak it.)

English

French

Spanish

Sign Language  

(What? It's a language. I have the certificate to prove it)

German

Pirate

OBG: [right hand touches chin, touches open left palm, touches inside left elbow]. Me llamo Una Blonde Chica. Donde esta el bano?

Imaginary Person of Obvious Intelligence: Gutentag, Ein Blond [rubs closed fist along jaw line from ear to chin as if tying a bonnet]. Je'mappelle Monsieur Smarty Pantaloons. No se. Donde esta la biblioteca?

OBG: Cierra la boca! Porque? Do you [places both hands palms up at hip level, draws hands in towards body while closing into fists] un libro?

IPOI: Nein. Quiero to find mi tia. Elle works thar.

OBG: Pero la biblioteca es aqui. Well, no aqui, pero down el street. 

IPOI: [smacks hand to head]! Como silly de mi. I'm [traces pointer finger down throat]. Would tu like a go a cafe shop avec moi?

OBG: No, pero estoy [forms c-shape with right hand and traces down esophagus area of chest]. Care to join moi por some wurst y sauerkraut?

IPOI: Egads! Nein, tu wench! Wurst y sauerkraut es el worst! Excuez-moi, por favor. I think I'm going to vomito. 

OBG: Foutre tu, tu scallywag!

Ah... it's like speaking our own secret language, one of which I would never expect you folk of lesser intelligence to comprehend. Of course, when one partakes in such an esteemed conversation such as this, which employs multiple languages, one can only expect a few things to get lost in translation. Especially when the pirate comes out.

(I should probably clarify, my father wasn't a pirate. The German came from him, not the pirate-speak. That came from watching Johnny Depp play Jack Sparrow one too many times.)

I ♥ Etsy! The Vintage Christmas Ornament Edition

                  

I know what you're thinking, didn't you just do an I ♥ Etsy! Halloween edition? Well, yeah, I did, but you can never start your Christmas tree ornament shopping too early! (Christmas present shopping, on the other hand, should be put off until the absolute last minute possible. Like Christmas Eve.)  

Vintage Handmade Christmas Decorations Denmark
by efinegifts

 A pony for Christmas
by bluemoonhare

 Vintage Felt Handmade Bird Ornaments
by theturniptruck

 Kitsch Sequin Beaded Fruit
by GryphonVintage

 Vintage handmade Christmas ornament blue and green
by ModishVintage

Funky Little Vintage Christmas Elves Ornaments
by ayeceaeph

What do you decorate your tree with? 

But seriously though

 

I realize I'm still a couple of months from my birthday and this post is probably a little premature, but there have been some things that I have learned, nay, discovered since turning 30.

1. Freckles are cute. When you're 3. Or 13. When you're 30, they become less cute and more like, well, age spots. Or cancer.
2. Wrinkles. Not just for the eyes anymore. 
3. Your feet are not your friends. Those two things at the end of your legs that have been hauling your sorry ass around for 28-29 years? Yeah, they've had enough. Which is why I found myself purchasing footwear for comfort the other night instead of for fashion (although I tried to accomplish both. Orthopedic cream is totally in right now, right?)
4. The sex drive doesn't really drive anymore so much as it putters.  It's like downgrading from a sports car to a golf cart.
5. Pudge is sexy. Right? RIGHT!?! Sure it is, you young folk just don't know it yet.
6. The infamous clock exists. And the tick-tocking from my womb gets louder every day.
7. Videos games are for teens and college kids. Lacking both of those in my household, however, I find it is my responsibility (well, and the G-Man's) to make up for it by playing video games my(our)self(ves). That and it gives me something to talk to my 5th and 6th graders about.
8. With maturity comes responsibility. Like only having two mixed drinks instead of three because you have to work the next morning. 
9. The 30s are the new 20s. Or so others keep telling me, the damn liars. I'm pretty sure people would rather see a 23 year old in a mini-skirt and tank top than me.
10. I am not becoming my mother. No really, I'm not. At least, I don't think I am. I mean, I don't like to gossip, in fact, I prefer to avoid all conversation with other people and hate talking on the phone. I have no desire to have sock matching "parties" or participate in the ritualistic "spring cleaning". And the thought of drinking a bloody Mary makes me gag.

Um, so it's not an extensive list, and not necessarily a overwhelmingly positive list, but at least it's something, right?

Life Lessons I Have Learned Since Turning 30

    

[chirp-chirp, chirp-chirp]

RST: Hair, Commitment, a Math Problem, a Test, and Dirty Jeans

                      

        

It's Tuesday, which means, time again for another Random Shit Tuesday! 

My randomness...

 

Not me

I have hair.  

   

Lots of hair. And when I say "lots of hair", I mean lots of fucking hair. It's a fact. No, really, it is. Blondes have more hairs on their heads than brunettes and redheads. It has to do with blonde hair being finer and therefore it requires more of it to cover the head, blah, blah, blah. Combine that with the fact that I haven't had my hair cut since that totally awesome haircut back in... oh... June, and I have a lot of fucking hair on my head.

Why do I bring this up? I'm not really sure. I guess just for conversation sake. That and I'm sick and tired of finding my hair everywhere! And so is everyone else. The G-Man finds it in his hockey gear (someplace I would never dare go). People I have stayed with find it in their houses weeks after I've left. In fact, if you happen to come within a mile radius of me, chances are pretty good you'll end up with my hair on you. Come any closer and you're apt to find it in places you never expected to find long blonde hairs. 

 

Like your butt crack. 

I'm not kidding. If you use the same bathroom as me, odds are good you will find my hair in your butt crack at some point during the day. You've been warned.

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I can't commit. 

  
This is not news to me, and most likely, not news to anyone who knows me well. However, I didn't realize how bad I had it until the G-Man and I were trying to decide on an area rug for the living room and new dinnerware. As it turns out, I'm also severely picky.

  
Or particular. 

  
I like to think I have a critical eye for good design.

At any rate, I'll save you a recount of the hours we spent online browsing and traveling to various different stores this past month or so. On Sunday I finally placed an order for some Fiesta dinnerware from Macy's (it was on sale). After much debate over the colors, we settled on Peacock, Ivory, and Cobalt (I really wanted Lemongrass and Paprika instead of the Ivory and Cobalt, but compromise won over).

  
We're still making our minds up on an area rug.

 

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A math problem for you...

 

Source

The G-Man had two tickets for a Medeski Martin and Wood concert at the 9:30 club in DC Friday night. 
 
The concert began at 10:00pm.

I had a state teacher's test the following morning in Annandale, VA. 

  
Check-in for the 2 hour exam began at 7:30am.

  
Guess who ended up going to the concert with the G-Man when Thing Two bailed on him?

  
On the plus side, we got to grab a couple of beers at Dodge City before the show (which we only saw 30 minutes of so I could be in bed at a decent time).

 

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Very cute

On a completely unrelated note...
 
I totally bombed my teacher test Saturday morning. And it had nothing to do with going out the night before. I was just totally unprepared for it. I had no grasp, whatsoever, on what the test would be like (it was an art content knowledge test).


About 80% of the test was obscure art history and the remainder 20% was about art making. I think I did well on the art making part of the test, but I know I failed the test overall. Miserably. Please don't get me wrong here, we're not talking some modest, "Oh, I don't think I did that well" speak here. I'm 100% positive I failed it. So positive, in fact, that I'm ready to register to take it again (I have to pass by March in order to keep my job).

  
*Sigh* 

  
And here I was under the assumption I was smart.

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After wearing the same pair of jeans for thirteen days, I finally decided to wash them.

Although, had the G-Man not spilled beer on me at the concert Friday night, I don't know if I would have laundered them yet.

  
Just thought I would share.

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Music Monday: MMW

    

Alive II: The Carnivorous Cruise

   

Source

This morning on the Today Show, Matt Lauer interviewed a honeymooning couple who were aboard the Carnival Cruise ship that was stranded at sea for 4 days. Unfortunately, I found myself still drinking my cup of coffee when the interview came on and was thus witness to the tale this couple told of the ordeal they endured. In case you missed it, here's a snippet of the interview that really brought home the extent of the hardship the passengers experienced. Paraphrased, of course. My thoughts to follow.

Matt Lauer: What was it exactly that you ate in order to stay alive?
New Bride: CEREAL!!! There was nothing but cereal for breakfast! Just cereal. And we had salads and sandwiches for lunch and dinner! Just vegetables! There was no meat at all!

Yes, I do believe he's picking his teeth

First of all, seriously, Matt? Seriously? To stay alive? Was it really that dire aboard the ship that the passengers were at risk of dying? They had food brought in for them for crying out loud! And free booze! It's not like they were in the Andes eating their left wing's buttocks (Google it: Andes rugby. Most disturbing book you'll ever read.).

Second of all, new bride, I don't mean to judge, but it kind of looks like eating salads and sandwiches for four days might actually be in your best interest, honey. Looks to me like you could use to lose a few (feign offense if you want, dear readers,* but you know you were thinking it too).

But you know what? I wasn't there. Maybe it really was that horrific and awful. A couple of passengers did have this to say, after all, in an interview with CBS News,  "You started seeing some peanut butter, which everybody was excited about," said Katie Sokulski. Dad Stan Allen agreed: "We didn't even know how much we loved peanut butter!" 

Source

I mean, it's not like I've ever been through an ordeal such as this, right? Although, there was that one ice storm that hit Northern NY and Canada in 1998... eh, but who am I kidding? I mean, my family was stranded in our house, in the middle of the woods, without power, for a week, and we couldn't flush the toilets, and we didn't have running water (all in the dead of winter), but hey, at least we didn't have to endure what this one woman complained about, "We were bored, we were hungry, we couldn't lay out because it wasn't sunny," said Amy Watts. 

And you know what? I bet those rugby players in the Andes were at least able to lay out in the sun while they gnawed on their homo sapien jerky.

* Apparently I'm channeling Stephen King.

In Which I Was Almost Raped and Murdered in the Produce Aisle.

  

(but not really.)

Picture this...

It's Sunday evening, around 7:00pm. I had finally mustered up the ambition to tackle the dreaded chore of grocery shopping [shudder]. I drove down the road, (about 3 blocks) to the nearest grocery store. Let's call it The Flower of a Plant (in an attempt to avoid traffic to my blog from people googling coupons for their local store. It's bad enough these phrases keep sending people my way: "swimming pool ass crack," "tater tots and whiskey shots ain't much of a menu lyric," and, my all time favorite, "blonde puke". But I digress).

Not the store I went to

I pulled into the parking lot, which looked relatively empty. I happily parked my car, far enough away from the store to not feel lazy, but close enough to not dread the walk back. I double checked for the necessities- shopping list, wallet and cell, before exiting the vehicle. With everything safe and secure, I proceeded to the entrance of the store. 

The following is a reenactment of the inner dialogue running through my head during my grocery shopping experience.

"Well, this is nice. I guess it won't be so bad. Doesn't look like it will be crowded at all."

"Oh look. That man is about to put his cart in the corral. Maybe he'll offer it to me instead."

"Or maybe not. That was a weird look he gave me. Whatever. I'll just get a cart when I get inside. Wow, grocery shopping might actually be okay tonight."

"Huh. There are quite a few people hanging out front of the entrance. That's weird. Whatever. Maybe they're all waiting for someone to bring the car around."

"Huh. So I guess I just have to weave my way around them to get into the store. That's a little inconsiderate. Whatever."

"Wait. Why are they all looking at me? Weird. Is my flannel showing? I knew I should have changed first."

"Man. That one lady was huge."

"Alright, time to get my cart... off to the produce section... where is the produce section? Oh! There it is! Wow, it sure is tiny. That's what she said! Ha! Score."

"There sure are a lot of men shopping late at night. But... uh... they don't have any carts, and they're not carrying anything... that sure is odd. Wait a minute. Are they looking at me? Why are they looking at me?"

"Wait. Is that man approaching me? Phew. No, he's just headed for the grapes."

The preferred fruit of sexual predators

"Grapes? What man goes into the store for just grapes? Huh. That's odd. Wait. Is he approaching me now? Oh, phew. No, he's just looking at the apples. Just... like... I'm looking at the apples... okay... time to move on..."

"Whoa. Where did those men come from? They weren't in the produce aisle a moment ago. And they're not even looking at the food. They're looking at me! Uh... next aisle, next aisle!"

"Phew. It's empty. Now, what was it I needed in this aisle again...? Oh, right... Pickles!"

"What the hell? Is that the same guy with the grapes? Did he...? Did he just walk by and look down this aisle? Ack! There he goes again."

"Okay. Okay. I'm just being paranoid. It's been a long day. I'm tired..."

"Wait a minute... now I know those men aren't shopping for anything, and I know they're just standing around looking at me. This is totally freaky. What else is on this list? How many more aisles? Maybe if I just move on, they'll go away"

"Phew. It worked. Time to get the chicken and ground turkey..."

As I was browsing the poultry, an employee from the meat department approached me. In broken English, he asked, "Uh... where you from?"

"What the fuck? What does he mean, where am I from? What kind of question is that."

I looked up from the chicken breasts, and answered, "Uh, down the street?" It was at this moment that I really took a look around me. Standing a little ways down were three to four Hispanic men, just milling around and talking to each other. As I looked around the rest of the store, I noticed that most of the other customers were also Hispanic men. 

And this is when my newly discovered racist gene took over.

"Oh shit. I... don't think... I... belong here. Where are all the women? Fuck, where are all the white people? No wonder everyone's looking at me. The fluorescent lights are probably reflecting off of me in a way they're not used to seeing around here. Fuck."

"Okay, I just need to get the milk and the yogurt and the cheese..."

"Fuck. I forgot the bagels. Bagels be damned, I'm not going back for them."

"Fuuuuuck. I forgot the beer. Whatever. Tonight we drink whiskey."

Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good.

And then, in surprisingly record-breaking speed, and as calmly as possible, I finished my grocery shopping, terrified of disturbing the locals, all while enduring the looks that my paranoid imagination viewed as hostile and quite possibly deadly. 

I hurried to the parking lot and threw the bags into my car, oblivious to the delicate cans-on-the-bottom-bread-on-the-top grocery bag loading strategy. And then I drove away as fast as my little car would let me.

****************************************

After relaying my experience to a co-worker the following day, she had this to say, "Yeah, aside from One Who Visits Stores in Search of Merchandise or Bargains, The Flower of a Plant is the worst grocery store to go to. My husband won't even let me go there alone. You should go to A Person or Thing of Great Size, that's the white people store."

And this is why the G-Man will be responsible for all the grocery shopping from now on.

(p.s. Remember when the only thing I had to worry about on my trips to the grocery store was whether or not the bum on the corner had peanut allergies? I kind of sort of miss that.)

Sunday Confessions : #6-8

   

Come forward and step into my confessional booth 

where all our dirty little secrets can be shared.

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 Sunday Confessions:

 

#6- I've been wearing the same pair of jeans for the past ten days. With no laundering in between. Same pair. Ten days. The level of comfort they have attained is indescribable. (p.s. Febreeze is my friend)

#7- I've stopped washing my hair. Everyday. I've stopped washing my hair everyday. What I mean is, I now wash my hair every other day.

#8- I believe chicken wings were never meant to see the light of day. Let me clarify. Chicken wings should only be consumed in the comforts of a poorly lit bar with cheap beer and good friends. Not in a well lit living room. Gross.

What's wrong with this picture?

      

It's Saturday afternoon. The G-Man is out shopping. I'm at home putting together his dresser.

What's wrong with this picture?

Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.

I'd like to start a petition to extend the year by an extra month. At the least.

   
Just for fun, I decided to check out the New Year's "Resolutions" I made in January to see how I'm doing with them. I don't really predict good things because, well, like everyone who makes resolutions in January, I forgot about them. Let's take a look and see, shall we? (my comments on the resolution are italicized)

1. do a better job of keeping up on world news Um... I know there were some earth quakes, and... some trapped miners, and... um... I'm sure somebody died, right? There were probably some elections too... In other words... FAIL

2. be more adventurous I moved to a new state, so that was pretty adventurous. And I've been exploring new bars and restaurants, and you know that's adventurous. I suppose I could use to step it up a bit with my activities' level of adventure.

3. catch up on tv and movies I've missed Actually, I'm kind of proud that I haven't done this one. It means I've actually had shit going on in my life more important and exciting than sitting in front of the boob tube.

4. listen to more music Yes

5. COMMUNICATE No

6. get in touch with old friends and maintain better contact with family (as in on the phone or in-person, NOT via facebook, email or texting) EPIC FAILURE! If anything I've fallen more out of touch with friends and family. I'm sure they no longer know what I look like nor could they recognize the sound of my voice if I were to call.

7. see people more often (at least once a month) See above

8. get my butt back into the gym I went to the gym. Once. No, wait! Twice.

9. eat more fruits and vegetables, especially vegetables Ugh. Major fail.

10. drink more water I'm trying. That counts, right?

11. do things for ME! *hanging head*

12. do things for OTHERS! (at least once a month) DON'T LOOK AT ME! I'm too embarrassed by my lack of selflessness right now

13. embrace my decisions and commit to making them work for me, even the not-so-good ones I have accomplished this one

14. NO LIQUOR (unless I am in the safety of my own home) HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA...

15. get in touch with my inner girlieness more often Inner whosit now?

16. continue to improve myself, career-wise (because a Master's just doesn't cut it) YES! I have a job now, and I'm learning all sorts of new things.

17. ask for (and accept) help when I really need it Um... still working on this one

So in conclusion, I have two months to tackle this list. Fuck.

RST: A Rally, Halloween, What's that noise?, Zombies, My Living Room, and No seriously, what the fuck is that noise?

                      

        

It's Tuesday, which means, time again for another Random Shit Tuesday! 

My randomness...

So, as I mentioned here, I attended the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear this weekend. I really wish I had more to report on the event. But alas, the day was pretty uneventful, despite the day's event.

We got off to a late start because, well, because that's just how we roll. I enjoyed a very yummy spinach and herb bagel on the road from The Bagel Cafe. Definitely a place to visit again. After meeting up with Thing Two on M Street, The G-Man, Unfortunate One, Thing Two and I hoofed it to the Mall where we were just a measly group of four in a sea of thousands. Needless to say, trying to get a decent view of the stage was out of the question. Fortunately we were able to push our way to a section of the Mall where we could at least see one of the screens.

So my take on the whole thing? The weather was nice, the crowd was overly polite*, the comedy was decent, the signs (and costumes) were entertaining, the sound system was shitty and the music was mediocre. Ozzy was certainly the highlight of the musical lineup, followed by Tony Bennett. Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow, however? Not the right venue nor the right crowd for them. In my opinion. Especially not after hearing rumors that Bruce Springsteen and Alanis Morissette were going to make an appearance.

After wards, we ventured to H Street (seeing as how any locale within walking distance to the Mall was packed) and grabbed a couple of brews at the Biergarten Haus, and, in my opinion, the best damned Goulash that have ever crossed these lips. The sauerkraut could have used more... sauer? Or maybe kraut. The Laugenbrezels were pretty freakin' good too.

After some food and beer, we headed back to M Street where we promptly... napped? Yup. This is how you know you're old folks. Halloween Eve in DC and everyone naps for about 3 hours, and upon waking, conclude that we'd rather sit in for the evening.

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Speaking of Halloween...

Oh, Halloween...

The night where we lock the doors, draw the blinds and spend the evening in the dark, hoping no foul-minded kiddies get the notion to trick us as we are clearly not intending to treat them.

It's not that I'm anti-Halloween or anything. It's just that I'm always so busy around Halloween (like, for example, moving) that I neglect to pick up any candy. 

Maybe next year.

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What's that noise?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zombies are becoming mainstream. I don't like this. That is all.

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I think I mentioned previously that we were unsuccessful in our attempts to get our couch upstairs to the living room.Which is why our living room currently looks like this...

Thank god our new couch arrives on Friday. Although, that makeshift chair on the floor is far more comfortable than you would imagine. Believe you me.

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No seriously, what the fuck is that noise? It sounds like a cross between a squirrel and a bird, and it's coming from the fire place. 

There it is again! 

I better not get attacked by some freakish squird while I'm innocently sitting here minding my own business.

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* There was a report by an employee in attendance from a certain organization with the initials 'N', 'P', and 'R' who claimed that the crowd was getting riled up and inpatient with The Roots' performance about 40 minutes in. This is not true. The sound system went out about that time, so we were chanting "Louder!" and "Turn it up!". Which was pretty reasonable, in my opinion. Of course she was located near the stage, so I imagine she had no clue what was going tens of thousands of people behind her.