The pirate, formerly know as Prince

So I'm dressed as a pirate for Halloween. Apparently NO ONE in this country appreciates a good pagan holiday anymore because as I walked into work in my ruffly blouse, red sash and bandanna I was the ONLY one dressed up. (Except for the five year old in the foyer dressed as batman surrounded by old ladies) So. Awkward. When I got into the elevator I quickly tore of my 'do rag. Now I just look like Prince or David Bowie from Labyrinth, but even with the bandanna it's a close call. My friend Stephanie said "You just had a Bridget Jones moment". Yes. Yes I did. At least I'm not dressed like a silly tart in front of Colin Firth.

You're body is a wonderland...or maybe you're just a creepy man in a bear suit

I had a dream last night that John Mayer was telling me about his excercise regimen. Apparently he thinks his body is a wonderland, and spends long hours at the gym to keep it that way. Strange that I dreamt about him since, A.) I don't care about John Mayer or his excercise regimen. (But his dream cameo may be due to my compulsive checking of People.com.) B. ) His music (Has anyone else noticed that all his songs are about his body...er... creepy). and C.) He broke the hearts of both Jessica Simpson AND Jennifer Anniston. Dirty Tramp.

Messy Bed, Messy Head

I recently heard the above maxim. And to a point I think it's true. The physical state of your world reflects your state of mind. I must be quite cluttered-up in the head, because my bed is a mess, not to mention my room, but worse than both of those is my volvo. It's a mobile junkyard. Let's exam the contents:

1. Bicycle from 1975, that's too small for me.

2. A Mural on Canvas from my High School Graduation Party; I've been carting it around for 4 years.

3. Kathy's George Foreman Grill

4. Text Books

5. About a billion cds

6. About a billion half empty water bottles

7. A bunch of junk

At least I got rid of the smashed David Hasselhoff picture and its finger slicing four inch shards of glass.
Ok so it wasn't this picture, but the real one was too scandalous to post.

We Need a War...HOL

In my rhetoric class we read a piece discussing the way that Americans talk about almost everything as if it were a war. Everything is "The War on Terrorism", "The War on Crime" "The Battle Against Breast Cancer". My own blogs are often some tale of petty warfare between myself and some unwitting person or thing. (ie: my dentist, the vending machine, etc.) Can difficult issues be reduced to good vs. bad. Aren't there more variables than that?

I realize that the things we preface with "The War on..." are soul depleting, heart wrenching and life ruining but can a personal trauma, or complex social problem be called a war? The word war makes it seem that a problem can be solved through destruction, or conquering, when it seems most problems must be addressed constructively for any change to take place. There needs to be cooperation and understanding not the need to win. When you divide issues into two camps you destroy any hope of compromise. In order to keep things in black and white, you have to deny truth if it discredits your position. Rather than solving problems we need to win. Problems that arise are no longer issues to be dealt with they are competitions to be won. Our war mentality is due to our competetive nature as Americans. And to do this we have to keep the world in black and white.

Not even my saga with the vending machine  is quite so clear cut. Sometimes the little guy antagonizes me with his obstinance, but most times he delivers my purchased goods in a timely fashion and drops me a gratis morsel now and again. So is this truly a war? It's more like a relationship with highs and lows, not man versus machine or an epic battle against good and evil. Even a black and white film has shades of gray, in fact it's the shades of gray that create a cohesive picture, without those you would have black and white stripes and splotches that made no sense.

In other news, I stopped by the Andy Warhol exhibit on campus today that was FREE instead of $8 since I'm an OSU student. Go Bucks. Boo-ya. Mr. Warhol was a strange fellow. I was uncomfortable and yet intrigued by his art. He both defined and transcended his generation. I noted in one of the film installations his muse Edie Sedgwick was sporting the ELUSIVE NAUTICAL TEE, and some person or another in each of his films wearing some version of the striped tee, not mention he often wore one himself. Yes, he was a genius.

Edie and Andy

One of the Marilyns

The King

Saw these last two today. Awesome. Iconic.

I might smack the next person who says backsplash

Let's just say some people are ridiculous. There are times in my workday where I'm required to say "backslash" in referencing a url address. For some reason no one seems to be familiar with this term. "Backsplash? Backsplash? Did you say backSPLASH??". No, I didn't. I'm sorry, but is there a key on your keyboard called a "backsplash"? Do you really think I'm saying backSPLASH? Or are you just too lazy to consider what the word might actually be? Oh yes, the "backsplash" the key inbetween a and s with a frisky dolphin doing back flips on it. If someone was serving birthday cake and said "would you like a piece of cake?" If you misheard them you wouldn't scream "APE? APE? Do I want a piece of APE?" You would think, hm, we are gathered here eating cake, does the word "ape" fit into this context? When you misunderstand someone, isn't the instinct to try to place it within context to figure out what was meant, rather than to continue to scream the misinterpreted word as if it were some kind of obscenity. BACKSPLASH? BACKSPLASH? Maybe if you continue to scream it will finally make sense.

Manna from Nestle

Is it a crime to capitalize on the forgetfulness of others? As someone who is chronically forgetful, I give it the o.k. So I took the orphan crunch bar. I did it. Yes. It was just sitting there like a little present from the nestle corporation when I jammed my hand into the vending machine flap to collect my Twix bar. I think it was a peace offering from the vending gods for all the times they've eaten my money and forced me to shuffle back to my cube sugar deprived. Or maybe someone was vended a Crunch when they really wanted Funions. So really I just saved the poor little Crunch from the landfill and a Funion lover from the Crunch. Or maybe Judy Johnston was so eager to get back to her inbox, she forgot the little guy. Or maybe the vending machine service man was feeling generous, and like every department, grocery, and drug store in America he likes to get a 3 months head start on Christmas by playing santa. So I implore you chocolate fairy, let's just cut out the middle man and have you come straight to my house. Say, around 3:00 AM on a Sunday night, rather than forcing me to contemplate a late night run to meijer and finally satiating my sugar binge with pb&j. It's just not the same.

Dentist 2: Michelle: 0

I am in a feud with my dentist. I didn't realize how long said feud had gone on until my Dad was in town a few weeks ago and said "Michelle, your dentist called me a few days ago, they said you haven't been in in two years." Today said dentist sent me a bill for missing my most recent appointment. I know I am the unreliable patient that incites the cancellation fees and unprofessional reprimands, but seriously, can't you guys cut a girl a break? I truly do want to have you poke and prod at my gums and contort my face into painful positions, but seriously, your only available time slot is at 8:20 in the morning? Arg. Dentist:2 Michelle: 0