Fox News.

This weekend, TheBoy and I went for a little 4 mile hike in the woods. It was all my idea and i was really psyched to get out and go hiking because it's gotten way too long in between days in the woods, and i love hiking. Love. Yet by the time we hit mile 2, i wanted someone to come pick me up and drive me back to the car. I was beat. Which was totally sad since it wasn't even that hot out.

Also, i was a little bored. Which is totally strange. I'm not sure what to attribute that to.

Maybe it was the fact that we were 'hiking' down a bridle trail - which is not hiking at all, but walking. In the woods. The bridle (not bridal - that would be something totally different) trail is really soft sandy-dirt and the uneven, soft ground was driving me crazy (but woo! workout!) with very little scenery at all. I know, what the hell am i expecting, right? Yeah, i don't know. The lack of anything going on around us caused us to use all the strategically placed piles of horse poo as major sources of entertainment; every time we passed one TheBoy would make fart/potty noises which amused us both to no end. Farts=funny, people. There's no denying that.

Once we finally made it off the bridle path and onto a real, solid path, things brightened up a bit. There were creeks! And chipmunks! A rabbit! A deer hiding in the trees! So many things more interesting than horse shit. I know it's hard to fathom.

Somewhere halfway through, we stopped to sit on a bench that was set up in a clearing by the fish hatchery. TheBoy was making a phone call (cause what's a hike without your Blackberry, eh?) and just staring off into space when he saw something, that at first registered as a 'dog', walking on the path we had just come from.

"That's a fox!"

Shocking! I've never, ever seen a fox (i don't think.. that i can remember..) in real life. It was a lot bigger than i thought it would be - like the size of a cocker spaniel, i guess. So we gauked at the fox and it stared back at us, until it decided that we were way too excited to see it and he ran away.

And i'm sure some of you are like, "yeah, whatever, Claire. I've got a fox sleeping in the marigolds out front," To which i would respond, "wow," and "that's really interesting," but this is my story, and i've never seen one in person, and it was kind of exciting for me, if you don't mind.

Don't steal my fox thunder.

By the time we wandered out of the woods, i wanted to fall down in the parking lot and go to sleep, but overall, a nice hike... or walk. You know.

A LETTER FROM THE PAST! (oh god, i'm so embarrassed.)

A couple of weeks ago, i got the bug to go through some of the things i left behind at my mother's house. Most importantly, i was looking for my journals. Journals that had been crammed into every unsuspecting corner of my bedroom, hidden in such ways that i had to remember where they all were - and there are quite a few. I was good at keeping this stuff a secret by writing in old class notebooks; at the ends when there were always a couple of sections left empty if it was from a class that didn't require much note taking. So i would fill up the remainders of spiral notebooks and then put them right on my bookshelves in plain site. Very sneaky.

The trouble in finding them, is which notebook is really just Trigonometry and which has the details of that day in my junior year when i ditched school and walked to the stores around the corner instead of the bus stop to wait, crouched in the bushes by the deli so that my mother wouldn't see me when she drove past but keep an eye out for my friends who were going to pick me up and take me to the beach? Which notebook is that filed in? Hard to tell, is what i'm saying.

So i found a couple of them, some in spiral notebooks, others in yellow legal pads which were my note taking medium of choice when i started college (the first time). Probably because they were cheap and i had no money whatsoever.

This is so not the point.

The point is: I remember a lot of this stuff being kind of racy. And the idea of leaving my teenage thoughts lying around my bedroom unsupervised had kind of given me the heebie-jeebies for, oh i don't know, ever. This is stuff Mom should never, ever see. Ever. Even when i'm 50, mom should not accidentally come across my journals. You might think i'm being dramatic, but i just don't think she could ever look at me the same. It's not worth it.

The earliest one I unearthed is from 1998 and DAMN, THE DRAMA. I turned 18 that year, and I know that this is not the first one. I know this because it starts: "August 1, 1998: I guess i'll be starting in the old math notebook now..." and if you flip towards the front, you see... oh look at that. Trigonometry. Good guess, i had up there. I was just pulling something out of my ass...

ANYWAY.

I've found some really interesting things that i probably can't share here, unfortunately. See this post about telling people i know about having a blog. Sucks. There is possibly some incriminating dirt amongst the driveling, world-weary bullshit. It truly is amazing how difficult and heart-crushing it is to be 18.

After much persistence, i was able to find the one thing that i know i can share because i wrote it. On February 13, 1992. I was 11.

Inspired by Metalia in this post, i wanted to find some kind of notes from the way back to show what was going on in my head. And then i thought of this letter that my 6th grade English teacher had us write - to ourselves. A LETTER TO THE FUTURE!

We wrote a bunch of crap that was going on in our 11 year old lives, sealed and addressed them to ourselves. They were dropped into Ms. D's file cabinet and were scheduled to be mailed out 10 years later when we least expected it. According to the postmark, i received this in June of 2000 so i'm not sure what happened there, but i have a feeling Ms. D retired and decided that she wasn't going to be responsible for dealing with this shit after she was done and just sent them all out to the world. Not important.

Ready for this? Oh god, here we go:
My comments will be italicized. Because i cannot just post this and not beat the shit out of myself. I mean, come on.

2/13/1992

Dear Claire,

Hi! How am I? {That's a little LETTER FROM THE PAST humor}.
I'm in 6th grade at [name of jr high school].

This past year, the U.S.S.R. (Union of Soviet Socialist Republics) {yeah, I really spelled it out. And underlined it. Just in case} just broke up and became their own countries. That took place January 1, 1992. There was a war in the middle east last year. The Berlin Wall came down last year. {i have a strange feeling that our teacher wanted us to say all of this - i don't remember being that up on my current events at 11. not like we could miss any of this stuff, i just don't buy that this was my idea.}

Enough about news, lets talk about styles. {oh yes, lets} One of the great styles this year are overalls with one or both straps down {gah, hello, 1992. I don't even know why i would mention this since i DIDN'T ACTUALLY OWN OVERALLS. I was SO not cool.} Another are button-down shirts that have sheer sleeves {also did not have any of these} Last year and this year Z.Caverrichi's [sic] are in style. {I certainly didn't have a pair of these. WAY too expensive and mom did not understand my need to be trendy. so i wasn't. I wore jeans - Levi's, most likely - that were tight rolled at the ankle and lots of socks. Also, leggings (so flattering) and giant ugly sweatshirts to cover my ass. I believe Keds were involved.}
Music that everyone likes {everyone? really?} is really a lot of rap. {i was so misguided in the 6th grade. and a sheep. baahh.} Like Boyz-2-Men, Club Cheatin' {who? i don't think i knew who this was back then, either}, Naughty by Nature (O.P.P) {Yeah, you know me}, Marky Mark {and his Funky Bunch?}, Iced Tea [sic], Ice Cube. {This is all so contrived i can't stand it. I was actually trying to fake being cool in a letter to myself. Hello, low self-esteem!} I like Boyz-2-Men, Good Vibrations (Marky Mark), O.P.P, Deee-Light[cough, sic] and B-52's. Vanilla Ice is totally out. {Like, ohmygod, TOTALLY OUT. He was like, so LAST YEAR.}

My best friend is Laura. She is here right now helping me write this letter. {oh. that's where the music inspiration came from. Laura had older sisters. We would pretend we were homeboys. Oh yes we did. Wrapping our arms across our chests with our hands on our shoulders and lean back just a little? You know. Word to your mom. I think she has pictures} Pretty cool huh? {It certainly is.}

My two very, very good friends are Angela and Kim. {Sadly, after i wrote this letter to myself, a huge fight erupted in which i lost these two "very, very good friends". They stopped speaking to me aaannndd prevented the rest of the class from speaking to me as well. The second half of 6th grade sucked ass.}

This year the 1992 Winter Olympics are goin' on {i'm hip} in Albertville, France. {yes, they certainly were. i looked it up, just to make sure.} We have about 11 medals. (Cool, huh?) {so cool.}

Well, I better go! {I must have had a lot of absolutely nothing to go get started on. Maybe perfect my Dance Party USA moves; listen to some BelBivDeVoe}

Bye! Talk to ya later!
Claire [full name - including middle name]

And then there are some doodles at the bottom, including a BEST FRIENDS 4 EVER thing that is in Laura's handwriting, also a "Right now I like Philip [full name, including middle initial]" with his name encased in a heart. Phil sat in front of me in all of my classes. Alphabetical order was good to me that year. And lastly, this gem written by Laura: "Oh Yo! Wonder if were still best friends? I really hope so!"

To which i say, "then you shouldn't have fucked me over at Friendly's after we went to see "Fried Green Tomatoes" with Kim and Angela, eh? EH? Perhaps we would still be best friends if you didn't start telling people not to speak to me. That could have been helpful. Is all i'm saying." Meh, doesn't matter. We made up that summer. Kids.


And now this is on the innernets for all the world to see. I am so, so proud.

Monkeys, cocktails and Her Majesty the Queen.

And here's where i apologize AGAIN for being such a stranger.

I'm sorry.

Okay, then.


I've become a bit more adjusted to life on the second floor. It's still unbearably quiet, but at least now i know that it's not just me that thinks this is a totally bizarre business atmosphere. Most of the people up here have commented to me about the sheer, pin-dropping silence i've been experiencing up here, so i've learned to just deal with it and try not to let it effect my neurosis.

Which it is.

But hey, i'm trying.

Also - there have been a few people asking me to e-mail my last post to them, so if you're interested (but really, it's not THAT good) and you don't work for the Overlord (specifically in HR) just let me know and i'll send it along to you. If you don't know what the hell i'm talking about, see here.


Now on to some actual CONTENT:


I don't know if there are still any Brits reading here, and while i suspect not, i'm still going to talk about a TV show that no one here in the US has seen, unless they are illegally pirating it (YARR, YARRR) like we are.
I'm talking about "Britain's Got Talent".
I know. You're saying, "Claire, why in the hell would you want to go through the trouble of downloading a shitty reality talent show when you can watch the one we have right here in America?"

To that i say, "I really have no idea."

Except that it was there, on the internet, and that is pretty much how we watch all of our TV because it's almost better than Tivo. You know, almost.

So, in the queue went "Britain's Got Talent" last week, and then everyday until it was finished. They only aired it for about a week and a half - it was on every single night until they called the winner - and i have to say, it is actually a lot better than the American version. I don't know if it is because there is an actual point to the whole competition (the winner gets to perform for the Queen at the Royal Variety Show (who knew the Queen enjoyed crap variety shows)) or because there is no mention of The Hoff anywhere on it.

My vote goes for No Hoff. Cause he bugs the shit out of me.
Instead, they have Simon Cowell. Obviously.

Why am i talking about this? Good question. I want to share with you, my 3 fine readers, the wonder that is a good Monkey Puppet Act. Never have I enjoyed a Monkey Puppet Act, but this? This is something. Use your speakers:



Brilliant.

And? Damon Scott? Hot.
Yes he is.

He made it to the finals, which i thought was pretty impressive for a Monkey Puppet Act, but was a little touch-and-go during the semi-finals where everyone pretty much told him that the performance he gave was total shit.

To see the look on his face when everyone was telling him he was a loser who probably touched monkeys in an inappropriate manner, was probably the saddest i have ever felt for someone on the TV EVER. I wanted so very badly to just reach through the television (or rather, computer monitor - pirates, remember) and give him a hug. He looked CRUSHED, absolutely CRUSHED. I felt terrible for him. Come to mama... bring the monkey... i'll make it all better..

*Ahem*.

They did give him another chance, which was nice and uplifting. Certainly seemed to make him feel better, which of course made me happy. It was nice to see him smiling again, instead of looking like someone kicked his puppy down the stairs. Or rather, monkey, i guess.
But of course he didn't win. I mean, it's a Monkey Puppet Act, for chrissakes.

Instead, it was opera singer, Paul Potts, who won - and rightly so. He's quite amazing and i'm sure the Queen will love him and whatever. But he didn't have a monkey, so i'm not spending any time talking about him.
No monkey, no press. That's what i say.

If there IS anyone from the UK still reading here, can someone explain to me why the judges thought the bar flair guys were so exciting and "different"? Did they not have the movie "Cocktail" over there? I mean, sure throwing bottles and shit around can be fun to watch, but it's not like its so damn innovative.
"Cocktail", yo. Tom Cruise did it. Like in the 80's. Before he was buttfuck crazy.

Open letter to members of my ex-department (caution, angry):

This post has been removed to protect the innocent me.

Yep, just me.

Shhh.... everyone can hear me...

Yay! I'm a real person now! In my new job! There's no one hanging over my shoulder looking at what i'm doing or trying to rat me out for doing something other than work. Hell, my boss told me yesterday that once i get my laptop (eee!) i can watch dvds at my desk if i want. Which is a little weird for him to be telling me that. But then, he reminds me that my transfer is a lot like going from high school to college (considering the petty, juvenile CRAP that was going on in my old department) and like going to college, no one is going to be on top of me to make sure i've done my homework. As long as i get my work done, it doesn't really matter how you get there. Or something like that. Whatever, the point is - no one is trying to rat me out anymore. For anything. Yet. That i know of.

And i don't have to let anyone know when i'm leaving my desk to go to the bathroom. You don't know what that means to me. NO REALLY.

However, since i've been moved to a new location, i'm having trouble getting comfortable in the new environment... it's like creepy-quiet in here. QUIET. Like all you can hear is the sound of my typing which is all of a sudden VERY VERY LOUD. I don't like this. It's weird.



And last weekend, we went to Maine as mentioned in the last post which was like a month ago by now because i'm having a real hard time keeping up with everything and what with the new job and all. But that's enough bitching.

Maine! Was lovely! And HOT! Much hotter than i anticipated which was why i brought so many damn long sleeve shirts and was severely mistaken. But otherwise, was lovely. We spent some time driving (oh so much driving) and walking around Bar Harbor and hiking and climbing and eating and walking and eating.
We went to Acadia, as planned, and drove the road that circles the park, which was beautiful. Then we drove to the top of Cadillac Mountain. Yes, we drove, even though TwoBusy claimed it wasn't a hard hike, we got there around 4:00pm. I just didn't think it would be smart to hike up and down a mountain that late in the afternoon. That and because... we're just damn lazy. But the shitty part about all that is once we got to the top and parked and started walking around up there, we sat in a spot on the top of the mountain where all of the actual hikers would appear and disappear out of view, whether they were going down, or coming up. There were all kinds of people doing it - old people, young people, fat and skinny people. It was a little upsetting, knowing that just about anyone could do this hike, and we fat-asses were just sitting up there enjoying the view. Which wasn't half-bad, by the way:

click for bigger

See how hazy it was out there? Luckily, it was a little chilly on the mountain, but it was HOT down there at the bottom.

Also, there was a cruise ship in the harbor when we got into town on Saturday morning and MAN WAS THE PLACE PACKED. It was actually really hard to get into any restaurants for breakfast because of all the tourists (not like us, natch) that were poured onto the streets. I mean, Bar Harbor isn't exactly a big town. Like at all. So, it was packed is what i'm saying.
Well, here's the boat:


Bar Harbor is the mess of white specs stretching towards the water. In case you were wondering.

This is probably the lamest 'long-weekend wrap up' you have ever read, but i'm kind of on a schedule here. And i think it's time for oatmeal...

Also, no proofreading. No time.
Suffer.