Barb’s Burblings

Stan Berenstain, a co-author of the Berenstain Bears books, died. I loved those books growing up; I had a ton of them. My favorite was The Berenstain Bears and the Messy Room. I so wanted Brother and Sister’s bedroom at the end, when it’s all cleaned up and their toys are in neatly labeled boxes and Brother’s reading in a little chair in the middle of the room. That’s how I wanted my room to be. Never happened. I do get a similar feeling when I go into The Container Store. I go in there and get delusions that one day my apartment can be that organized.

I love 4-day weekends. The problem with coming back after the long Thanksgiving weekend is that everyone at work has to talk about their holiday. And the thing is–and here’s where I sound really cranky and annoying–is that I just don’t particularly care. Sure, there are a few coworkers that I’d like to hear what they did. And I have no problems comparing notes with my friends. But for the most part? I don’t need to know. Really. I’m sure they all had lovely Thanksgivings and it was relaxing and nice to see family, etc., etc. Because the typical coworker isn’t going to go into how Aunt Sue ripped into Cousin Jen over the stuffing. You know?
On a more positive note, it was actually kind of nice to go back to coming into work a bit earlier. I had been coming in around 8 the past couple of weeks, but am back to 7:30. The traffic is just so much easier to deal with at 7:30.
Tonight: Barenaked Ladies!
Current song in my head:
“La Vie Boheme” from Rent–I don’t actually know it, so I just keep hearing those three words over and over and over; very annoying

The vet appointment went well last night, except for when Colin peed on me as I tried to get him into his carrier. He’s not such a fan of the carrier. In the last year, he’s lost over 4 pounds. That’s about a third of his body weight. Crazy! He’s at a good weight now. I’m jealous. I wish I could lost weight like that. I imagine that someone else having total and complete control over what you eat is helpful. It’s not like he can ever be like, “I could go for a donut. I think I’ll stop at Krispy Kreme on the way home.”
Current song in my head:
“Islands in the Stream” by Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton

I don’t mind Tuesdays, because I have the Gene Weingarten chat to look forward to (and the chat about life at work before it also entertains me). Today is a particularly good Tuesday, as tomorrow is the last day of the work week, and it will be a short day. And I went out to lunch, which was enjoyable. And yummy. Plus, there’s a retirement party this afternoon, so there’s guaranteed cake. But then, we got called over to the other side of the floor. It was someone’s birthday. There was cake. Today is a Two Cake Day. Nothing can beat a Two Cake Day. I am very happy about this. Report on the first cake: Very good. The cake was moist and the frosting wasn’t too heavy.
Colin might not agree about today being a good day, though he doesn’t know it yet. We head to the vet for a checkup this evening. Ruh roh!
Current song in my head:
“We Like to Party” by the Venga Boys

I heard on the radio the other day that the average single person goes on eight first (blind?) dates a year. I’m wondering who the people are out there that make up for me totally bringing down the curve on this one. I mean, eight? Really? Dang. I know that’s less than one a month, but still.
In practical news, here’s a chat about how to defeat the imminent robot rebellion. I love the Washington Post for many reasons, but the diversity of their online chats is right at the top of my list.
And I just realized that the name of the male non-MC lead character (played by Michael York in the movie) in Cabaret is Brian Roberts. I am excessively amused by this. Well, it is a somewhat generic American name. I shouldn’t be surprised at it popping up the way it does.
Current song in my head:
“Don’t Tell Mama” from Cabaret

Last night for dinner I had: Pop-Tarts.
That is all.

Watching Prison Break, they keep saying “Over the wall”: “We have 18 minutes to get over the wall.” “I need to get over the wall to see my daughter before she dies.” “How long before we can go over the wall?” And so on. And so now I have the song “Over the Wall” from Kiss of the Spider Woman in my head, in which they say “Over the wall” over and over and over. Ack!

Earlier this year, I complained about how I lived in DC for 5 years without ever seeing a politico; soon afterward, I found myself sitting next to James Carville at a Nationals game. Recently I was talking to a coworker about how a lot of tv shows and films shoot in DC, but I’ve never seen one (other than purposely going to an O’s game that they were using in The West Wing). Well, that changed this weekend.
As I walked from Metro Center to the American History museum, I noticed some odd cordons and banners near the Federal Triangle Metro stop. There was nobody around, and it kind of looked like there was some sort of flu shot clinic happening later on. After hanging out in the First Ladies exhibit for a while, I headed back.
Police were preventing cars from entering that block of road, but pedestrians were OK. I noticed a line of buses and there seemed to be a LOT of people milling about. And there was a huge line, stretching well past the cordons. I was about to ask the t-shirt vendor what was up when I saw the sign saying that The Visiting was filming and that if I didn’t want to be included, I should stay out of camera range. And the scene apparently was people lining up for vaccinations–from some sort of alien infection. A couple of people even had on those face masks. There were a lot of production people milling about with headsets on, and some official person was saying something over a loudspeaker about setting up. No, I didn’t see Nicole Kidman, or the new James Bond, or Jeremy Northam, but it was still neat. I would’ve stayed longer, but was feeling a bit ucky (maybe I should’ve had something to eat that day), so hastened home.
Very neat. Now I need to think of something else that I haven’t experienced around here, casually mention it, then wait for it to happen.
Current song in my head:
“The Real Slim Shady” by Eminem

I’m sorry, but what did I do to piss off the car gods? No, seriously? My front right tire had a slow leak for a while. Turns out there’s a nail in it. And how did I find this out? When driving on the Beltway, just after 270 and 495 merged, my tire just decided to quit and went flat. Whee! The AAA guy got there very quickly–apparently I was a priority, as I was on the Beltway. Hey, at least it was early afternoon and traffic was fairly light. I would’ve changed it myself, except…I was on the Beltway. No way I was trying that. So I got to get a new tire for my car. Hurrah.
On the bright side, I got quite a bit of Christmas shopping done. I’m now done with my mom and Kathy and Robert, and have gotten something for my dad. This leaves the grandmothers, another for my dad, and whoever I get in the Secret Santa exchange. Of course, this means that I spent a boatload of money today, between presents (and some shoes) and tires.
Current song in my head:
“Fix You Up” by Tegan and Sara

I went yesterday to pick up the package that had been sitting at the post office since Saturday (because my mailperson doesn’t bother trying to actually deliver them to the apartment; if I get a package, he or she just shoves the slip into the mailbox, like, thanks, mailperson, but Carrie or I was home all day). Turned out to be two packages, that looked very similar, other than the boxes being slightly different sizes. One was my jersey and the other was my present from my sister–a variety of O’s items so I can totally dork out my car in Oriole gear. It is, quite frankly, awesome. Some of it will undoubtedly wind up in my apartment or my office at work, which is also fun.
Anyway, I was so like a kid at Christmas. I wore the jersey around the apartment all night and sat there playing with my new stuff. Whee!