Oh, Canada!

For the duration of the women’s figure skating competition, I will be cheering for Joannie Rochette of Canada. Will she win? Highly doubtful. After the short program she’s currently in ninth place. All three Americans placed well above her. In fact, Sasha Cohen is a whole 10.88 points better.

So, why, you may ask, would I be cheering for a woman who will most likely lose and is not even from my home country?

Simple.

Rochette's choreographer, David Wilson, got her to use an orchestral version of "Like a Prayer" for her short program. This makes me happy and wins my cheering support. To heck with talent. Music matters to me. It was pretty darn fantastic.

So, I’d like to thank David and Joannie for bringing Madonna to the Olympics. May they be able to have the longevity of Ms. Ciccone herself.

End Blog.

Bobsled or Bobsleigh?

Yes, I have very odd concerns. I’ve been talking about the bobsled event for several days. Okay, maybe not directly, but it’s been mentioned more than once in recent blogs. Everybody calls it bobsled. Bobsled bobsled bobsled. That's all you hear the commentators say.

And then I see it labeled on tv during the bobsled event. “Bobsleigh”.

What now?

Shouldn’t that be pronounced "bob-slay"? What the hell is up with that?

So, of course I had to look into it. The following is a public service announcement for all:

Bobsledding was invented in Albany, New York and then introduced to Switzerland. In the United States and Canada the sport is known as bobsled, everywhere else, bobsleigh.

So, living in the United States… I was right. Go me. And, considering that NBC is broadcasting to us here at home in America, they are wrong. They are titling the event as if I lived somewhere else (excluding Canada). They are wrong. Wrong wrong. Wrong.

I’m going to write a letter. Look for changes in 2010.

Oh, also, while we’re at it… Torino v. Turin. Dude, just pick one. At this point I don’t even care which one, although, if you’re really asking, Torino sounds prettier and Turin makes me think of the relic those insane religious folk actually think was Jesus’ burial shroud. And it sounds like urine. Okay, I do care.

Just stop using Turin already!

Things I’ve outlawed from the stations controlled by NBC: Bobsleigh and Turin.

I’ll keep you updated should there be more rules in the future. That is all.

End Blog.

Blog About Us, Too!

Okay, so I got a call from the US Women’s Curling team asking that I please comment on them, or their sport, and to be my witty, wonderful self. So, I watched the curling team do their thing today, with the hog line and the hammer and the rocks in the wheel house and peeling of the guards during a spiel. Or something. I’m nearly certain they speak a different language.

Not only do I not really understand all there is about this sport, but it’s very boring. It’s also something I think I could do, especially if there aren’t rules against like… shoving the rock down the ice and trying to hit as many of those things as possible. That would be more fun. There are probably rules against that.

Now I understand why they wanted me to bring attention to their sport. Because most people watching fall into a coma. I saw a few people in the stands with ventilators and heart monitors and IV lines. The team travels with a staff of doctors and nurses specifically for their fan base.

But you know the hardest thing for them? Being in the Olympic village with all those other thrill-seeking luge and skeleton and downhill skiing adrenaline junkies when they’re just so vanilla. So, to fit in – and under the ruse of raising money and bringing attention to the sport – some of international curlers have made a calendar where they’ve posed nude.

So, I can’t complain. Maybe all curlers have a uniquely wild side that’s usually hidden. And although sisters Jamie and Cassie Johnson of the US team weren’t part of the photo shoot, I suggest the organizers find out if they’re interested for the next calendar year. Because they’re both rather hot. They could be in a nudie, tastefully done calendar.


In other completely unrelated Olympic news...

Why does the bobsled race look so much slower than the luge or skeleton? They're still going over 80mph, but they look to be traveling at about 30. Damn you crazy maniacs! You've ruined watching bobsled forever!

End Blog.

PS - I'm not dead. The ticking was my cordless phone that was unplugged and packed away in a box. Apparently it ticks when it's unhappily losing its charge. Or it ticks when it's in a box. I have a claustrophobic phone. It figures.

Quick! Duck and Cover!!

For those of you living in a bubble... I'm moving. Almost 1100 miles and the trip will most likely take slightly more than 2 days with the moving truck. Which brings me to my current position:

Not only does my room look like a disaster area because of all the packing, but today I realized that there is actually something ticking in the middle of all of this mess. Now, I don't own anything that ticks. I have no idea what could be ticking.

Therefore, should you not see another post from me on here, I'll let you assume that someone planted a bomb in my room and now it actually is a disaster area.

I ask just one thing:

Tape it if it makes the news.

End Blog.

Yay! Just What I Needed!

More insects in my diet. Because, I hardly ever eat them. Okay, okay, I never eat them. I admit, I’m not that great when it comes to healthy eating habits. So, sneaking in good foods into things that I actually like is a good thing. You know what I’m talking about – tomatoes chopped up and well hidden, fruit covered in chocolate, beetles in my yogurt and juice. It’s nice that someone’s looking out for me. Left to my own devices I’d eat a box of cookies for dinner and go to bed.

Dannon, Tropicana, Hershey, Pespi – I thank you for helping me eat natural products. Way to keep me healthy!

Don’t let those vegetarians and kosher following individuals get you down!**

End Blog.

**Everything causes cancer. Get over it; we’re all dying no matter what we eat. Apparently Teflon (or, at least, perfluorooctanoic acid) is everywhere.

Women’s Downhill Hopeful

Lindsey Kildow may not be winning metals, but she’s got the absolute right idea about national television. Sure, she would’ve gotten screen time being at the Olympics. And yes, she would have even gotten interviews and stuff if she had done well.

But America loves an underdog, especially if it’s them, just as much as they love winners. But, I think, they also love to see people fail and are fascinated by pain, disappointment, and even perseverance.

So, here’s my new plan:

1. Get to the Olympics. 2. Get semi-hurt so that I can still compete. 3. Win the hearts of millions. 4. Get the most screen time of any athlete there.

Think about it. How much have you seen Lindsey on tv? Lots. You see the fall. You see the fall in slow motion. You see her ski. You see her ski in slow motion. You see a close up of the edges of her skis in slow motion. You see the fall. You see the fall in slow motion. You see her giving interviews. You see her talking about her injuries. You see her talk about the wonderful drugs they gave her. You see her say that she’s going to try her best. You see the fall. You see the fall in slow motion.

She’s already gotten more than her fifteen minutes of fame, more than all the other athletes there in Tornio. Sure, we’ll forget about her eventually. But look at all the exposure she’s getting. And in four years, if she comes back, you better believe she’ll have a highlight reel and we’ll see the fall. And we’ll see the fall in slow motion. And we’ll see interviews with her on how she’s overcoming it, overcoming the odds, getting her head in the right place to compete, how she’ll prove her abilities this time. And then we’ll see the fall again.

Lindsey Kildow is brilliant. She knows all about the “agony of defeat”.

And the only reason we might not remember her like we remember Picabo Street is because her parents totally messed up when they gave her an ordinary name. But, you better believe that she’s got a Chapstick commercial in the near future.

End Blog.

The Search Continues…

…for the most insane Olympian. Now, I thought those lugers were nutters, but I’ve found a woman who has taken over as the current most insane sportsman, ever. I am sure, given that I continue to watch these games, that there’s someone more fanatical out there. But for now…

I’m going with this woman who competes in skeleton – which is like the luge except you get to fling yourself down the track head first. I didn’t catch her name or home country, which I apologize for because I certainly want to know, but not only is she involved with this sport, but she’s still doing it while two months pregnant.

So, pregnant, running on ice, jumping stomach first onto a hard sled, and speeding head first down an icy mountain where it’s a miracle every time you don’t die. Who cares about metals? These people are actually alive at the bottom of the hill! Everyone’s a winner!

So, barring any unfortunate mishaps on the ice, I fear this kid of hers will be the ultimate thrill-seeker. And then he or she will end up topping this list someday when they invent the newest sport using the bobsled track called “Suicide” – where you go down head first, on your back, looking up at the sky, blindfolded, without a sled, while shooting heroine and playing Russian roulette. The person to kill themselves in the fastest time as they reach the bottom of the hill, wins.

Don’t think it won’t happen.

End Blog.

Nothing Will Ever Top 02/14/2005

So, this Valentine’s Day was not as cool as last year when I went to the morgue. Not even a little bit… but, things did get accomplished today. I…

1. Cancelled my phone line service
2. Cancelled my DSL
3. Cancelled my cable (all effective on the 28th)
4. Gave my leasing office my move-out date
5. Bought plain white paper for packing breakables
6. Faxed an application to the apartment I want to live at
7. Informed my two bosses what my last day would be
8. Oh, yeah, and I worked at work as well

And now… to acknowledge that it’s Valentine’s Day, I bought myself Chipotle. And I’m going to eat my chicken burrito with black beans with an icy cold Dr Pepper and at least take solace in the fact that I’m not leaving behind one of those significant-other-type-people when I move.

At least I know how to take care of me and make it a good Valentine’s Day. So, should you ever want to make my day remember – Chipotle and Dr Pepper. If there’s a heaven, I’m positive that they’ll both be there in abundance. And there won’t be a line.

End Blog.

The Silver Bullet

The luge is the strangest sport around. Not that I’ve thought about all the sports around, but, hurtling yourself down a really hard, super twisty ice hill at speeds over 80mph is just insanity. And not only that, but you’re lying down, on your back, in a position where you can’t really see where you’re going all that well.

Then there’s the commentators telling me that the competitors need to relax and absorb the bumps in the track to go faster. Are you kidding me? Relax and go limp at 85 mph? I can’t even do that when I’m riding as a passenger in a car going that fast on a twisty mountain road. With a seat belt and an air bag in really good weather where there’s some security that I’m not about to die.

And Armin Zoeggeler of Italy is the craziest of them all. Not because he goes the fastest, not because he won the gold medal, not because he crashed during practice and continued to compete… but because of his super shiny silver helmet. What in the world is this man thinking? Doesn’t he have someone in his life to tell him it was a bad idea?

I want to rip that helmet right off of his head.

What’s the reason for that ugly, gaudy thing anyway? He’s a gold medalist. He got one last year. NOT that I want the helmet to be gold. That would be worse. That would be like the gold running shoes of that track star guy… whatever his name is. Why can’t he have a nice black one? Something normal. All the other lugers at least understand that if they die flying down that hill, at least they won’t die in a really awful shiny silver helmet.

End Blog.

Thwarted

My plan to influence the Neilson ratings single handedly has been found out. This is what happens when you post your secret conspiracy plans online – Your cable goes out. Let this be a lesson to all of you.

How will I ever be able to watch all of the Olympics coverage now? I’m not, that’s how.

Every single channel is static.

I’d blame the crazy winter storm, except at this point in time we only have minimal amounts of snow. The weather forecasters must know the Olympic opening ceremonies coordinators. I bet they all swim in liquid crack together on a regular basis.

End Blog.

I Don’t Watch Sports

But I love sports movies.

There, I said it. Why? Because at the end, during the big final game where they’re struggling to win (but in the end always do) - I get goosebumps and have to hold back tears. I’m so proud of them, those fictional underdogs.

And this is why the Olympics rock. Maybe not so much the actual events, but the stories of struggle that show how people got to the most challenging, prestigious sports championship of their lives where they get to put their skills on the line against all the other people at the pinnacle of the sport from all over the world… that’s what I like. It’s like hundreds of mini sport movies played on TV for a few weeks.

Really, which sport doesn’t matter. I could care less. I’ll watch speed skating. I’ll watch downhill. I’ll watch bobsledding. I’ll watch curling. I’ll watch ice skating. I’ll even watch women’s ice hockey even though there’s no body checking.

I watched the biathlon. (It was on this morning.)

Okay, Now I have your attention. Now you understand.

I will watch whatever they put on. In 2004, I watched race walking. The whole race. At 4am.

I love the Olympics. And I will watch extra to make up for all the people who only like the Summer Games. Take that!

Single handedly, I, Nikki Blackwell, shall influence the Neilson ratings and watch NBC, USA, CNBC, and MSNBC any time they’re showing Olympic coverage.

And do you want to know why? Because the policy of some of those channels is that anytime the US is playing, there will be no commercial interruptions. Do you know how much hockey games rock without commercials?

I do.


End Blog.

Star Studded Event

Whoa... what happened? All of a sudden there are celebrities all over the place. Susan Sarandon, Sophia Loren, Yoko Ono, Peter Gabriel. Isn't the Olympics about sports? I forget.

But let's just talk about the people on wires climbing about for a moment. I know they were supposed to look like snowflakes. My head understands that much. But, you know what? They were creepy. And they looked like spiders in complex webs. Being creepy.

Even when they made the dove at the end... it was creepy.

Creepy Spider people on wires. Obviously plotting against me. Damn those crackheads. They take my demands and make them into something from nightmares. Someone was on a bad trip. Maybe they also took some acid or something.

Meanwhile... wouldn't it be funny to see one of these last torch bearer people fall while they were running? I mean, horrible for them, but I'd laugh all the same. Probably the flame isn't supposed to fall on the ground either. I suppose it's a good thing no one fell.

Anyway, I think the lighting of the torch was worth the wait. Sure, it was really fast, but it was fancy and flashy. I like things that sparkle. *places stamp of approval on the lighting* Good job.

Plus, the fireworks were cool. The spiral around the stadium? Totally looked like a slinky in the air. Now that's something I can get behind... a slinky event.

Think if you lick a slinky in the snow your tongue would stick?

Okay... with that thought, I'm going to bed. But I'd like to state for the record that the creepy spider snowflake people will most likely haunt me in my dreams for the next lifetime. Not even slinky fireworks can erase that image.

End Blog.

Oh My God, There's MORE

I posted prematurely. I don't know what I was thinking. There's more crackpot mayhem on TV now.

A woman in an oyster shell. I want to make a joke about her hidden pearl... but am refraining. A floating sun and moon with people attached and hanging from wires. A man who's become the embodiment of the human circulatory system. A racecar (spelled the same frontwards and backwards). Think about this... a racecar at the Olympics... doing doughnuts. For no discernible reason.

None of this makes sense.

Although, I'm no longer disappointed by the lack of people hanging by wires.

It's as if I can speak to them and they can hear me.

I half expect someone to run around with the Shroud of Turin. Top that Crackheads. The Shroud of Freakin' Turin.

Viva Torino!

End Blog.

Crack Pot Olympics

I’m excited to watch the opening ceremonies of the Winter Games tonight. Because I like to marvel at how the people who created and choreographed it must have been on crack.

So, as I’m waiting for them to start, I’ve decided to start this blog so that I can give you a play by play. Now, as a person who is not on crack, it is likely I will not understand what the hell is going on. Crackheads, bear with me. Your world is strange and new and I only get a brief glimpse of it every other year.

It has commenced. I believe they’re showing me that the Olympics is like a giant flaming roller derby. Somehow. And it’s changed into a giant kidney. And the rocketeer made an appearance.

Then it started to snow and these men played the big Ricola horns and they called upon the giant walking, dancing Christmas trees. Which lead to dancing cows. Because cows get happy when the trees dance. Don't look at me like that. This is crackpot logic. You have to just go with it.

This must be top quality crack.

Why is there always lots of fire and ice used in the opening ceremonies? I’m just waiting for the ice to melt. Although, I do enjoy the contrast.

Okay, so we’ve changed over to silver clad, disco miners with lights strapped to their foreheads.

And… I… can’t even describe what’s going on. People are making a picture of a man ski jumping. He’s animated. I might have to say this is the coolest thing a crackhead’s ever done.

This is the coolest thing a crackhead’s ever done.

Okay, now this could get interesting. There’s scaffolding and many people tethered together. This is like a Madonna concert performance waiting to happen. And yet, it wasn’t. That was highly disappointing, my little druggies. All I got out of that was the Olympic rings. Maybe I’ve been to one too many Madonna concerts.

I suppose I can forgive them since my mind is still trying to wrap itself around the 900 people that made up one ski jumper. I think I had a flashback to drill writing in marching band and my head exploded. I’m pretty sure my drill would have been even better had I known about the power crack had on the final product.

So, let’s recap: in the crackhead’s mind, this is what the Winter Olympics means to us – It’s a flaming roller derby with dancing trees and cows, lots of fire, miners – possibly to supply the fires, and ski jumping. The Winter Olympics is all about ski jumping.

Good to know.

And the countdown begins… two more years until I get to see top quality entertainment on crack again.

End Blog.

I Statements... for fun

I am not: dead. Yet.
I hurt: people accidentally because I’m not as empathetic as I’d like.
I love: fiercely. And possessively. It’s probably unhealthy.
I hate: trying to be patient for six months.
I fear: that after all the work to make a new life, I’ll be unhappy and alone.
I hope: that moving to MO is the best decision I’ve ever made.
I crave: someone to love me back just as fiercely.
I regret: not taking more chances. You only live once.
I cry: easily. It’s sometimes a very bad thing when you can’t stop them.
I care: about my friends. My job. Where I live. Money. Stupid things that shouldn’t matter.
I always: drink Dr Pepper.
I long: for a companion. Possibly of the canine persuasion.
I feel alone: at night. When I can’t sleep. And it’s dark. And I’m alone.
I listen: to you. Really, I do! … Huh?
I hide: eggs at Easter. Well, I could.
I cause: forest fires.
I sing: at work. It’s annoying to everyone.
I dance: badly.
I write: when I have a genius idea and get excited about it. So, hardly ever.
I breathe: in and out everyday. Continuously.
I play: with water in the shower. I like water.
I miss: my college girls.
I learn: rather quickly. It only took me 18 years to realize that I could stop going to school.
I feel: lonely a lot.
I know: many useless things.
I say: things in my head that I’d never say out loud.
I succeed: by accident and luck.
I fail: myself probably everyday. But I also forgive easily.
I dream: about three things – water, cars, and dogs.
I wonder: about many things. I have a pretty curious nature.
I want: to win the lotto. I should play the lotto.
I worry: about moving. Daily.
I wish: that I knew the start date of this new make-believe job I sorta have.
I have: much to be thankful for that’s taken for granted.
I give: myself to my friends.
I fight: hardly ever. That’s lots of energy. I’d rather be passive aggressive.
I wait: to hear from KC. Everyday. Wait wait wait.
I need: a social life.
I live: for the little things, but mostly laughter. We should all laugh everyday.

End Blog.

When You Wish Upon a Star Your Dreams…

I’ve been having the weirdest dreams lately where really odd things are happening and I refuse to wake up because I can’t imagine what I’ll do next, it just feels so bizarre. And I know it’s a dream but I don’t want to pull myself out of it because I know it’s more interesting than anything else going on.

Tracey’s appeared in two of these dreams. She’s grown and still appropriately older than me, but I really know nothing about her. She’s just there or follows me as I wander about without purpose. We’re doing random things. You know how dreams are… we’re in a hurry but I can’t determine why, we can’t find something, we’re in a maze… stuff like that.

But this morning my dream consisted of us looking at lots of different dogs because I think I wanted to buy one. Dad was there “helping” but providing us with facts and ideas that weren’t helpful in picking one out. For example – there was a big hullabaloo about how I needed a dog who knew how to swim. I didn’t think this was a big deal, but Dad insisted that we toss them in water to find out. And he picked up this big, brown, kinda curly dog, which I still don’t know what breed it was, and threw him in the lake.

And slowly… slowly… the dog just sank. Didn’t even try to swim or struggle, just sank below the water. Tracey and I screamed and made Dad go save him. And when he pulled him out of the water, he told us you could teach them how to swim by nearly drowning them repeatedly. Which he set about doing, rather violently, much to our horror.

And it was super peculiar – not because he was doing it, but for the fact that I didn’t want that dog, so it didn’t matter if it could swim or not. So I watched for awhile, asked him to stop – which he ignored, and then gave up on talking to him. Tracey and I ended up leaving him behind, wandering down this hall (that appeared from nowhere) on our own, and I found that we were in what appeared to be a long abandoned zoo.

The display in front of us was for a polar bear, who had two little baby cubs. It took me a while to find them, but I did. They were sleeping behind a huge pile of dead fish and big, heavy rope. I don’t know why they were there.

And then I realized the glass was missing and took a step forward. And the cubs woke and came to me and I was petting the cutest little polar bear cub, ever. To which I insisted Tracey take a picture, so I could show it to Janelle and tell her how she should have been there.

More happened previous to the weird dog scenario, I think it involved an amusement park and my mom dancing in a blue feathered dress wearing a blue wig and sitting on my father’s shoulders. Wacky strange craziness all around.

I’m not sure what’s going on with my mind. I don’t usually remember my dreams, but when I do, they usually involve water or cars or dogs. It’s nice to know that I still am not letting myself down on that and even managed to combine two of them this time. (That is, a new combination of two. Usually it’s driving along a river. I’ve had that dream a few times.) And if in fact dreams are Freudian and represent things… it’s nice to know that I still continue to have the same issues reoccurring for the past several years. Apparently I’m not growing emotionally. At all.

But, it’s time now that I go to sleep again (after 2am), into that hazy fantastic world of water and driving and dogs.


End Blog.

Futurama

Disclaimer to the Universe:
Please do not jinx me for finally being optimistic about this job. Thank you.



I’d like to write something overly simple and yet extremely intelligent to tell you what exactly I’m feeling right now, but I find that I’m pretty much incapable of putting together thoughts in a manner that represents the emotions I’m currently having.

I’m nearly certain that I’m going to get this job that I interviewed for back in August. (See, Universe, I said nearly...) Now, while this is good news, there are still a myriad of things that require my attention. Like… giving notice I’m moving out – but on what date? And how exactly will I work that out with my current roommate? And packing my things to move half way across the country. And renting a truck to do so. And coordinating time off with my parents and using them for help... again. Then there’s also getting my car ready for the trip as well. Not to mention my dwindling savings account and how much this will all cost. And how wise it is to continue putting things on my credit card? How quickly will I be able to pay it off?

Then there’s the whole getting a new apartment – and how can I make sure it doesn’t end up like my current apartment? How do I make sure I pick a good place that I can afford and yet still not get anything stolen? I mean, crime is good for the job but not for my personal well-being. And then the whole getting approved financially to live there without the support of my co-signing parents. It seems weird to think of myself as an adult. In my mind I'm so far from adult.

Not to mention Tracey’s upcoming birthday, which always sorta puts me in a funk because it reminds me how she would have been such a great example to follow after – and then reminds me of all the things she didn’t get to do. Like have a first real job. Or drive across the country. Or frickin' go to grad school.

Then there’s my own birthday on its way. I’ll be turning twenty-five. Which seems like a milestone in acquiring responsibility. So, it’s good that I’m most likely getting a job. A real job. With a retirement plan and healthcare benefits. A career. Adult things.

But with all of these things running through my mind, the one that hit me hardest today while thinking about starting to pack up my apartment…

I realized just how far away I’ll be from the place I grew up (I mostly mean college), from the friends I grew around and from the people that understand me most. Sure, I might not see them often (or ever) now, but I knew they were only three hours away. Visits were possible. And I wonder: If I feel isolated now sometimes here in DC, will KC be able to change that, or change me? I’m sure it’s my fault I’d rather stay in than go out, but of course being more financially stable will help remedy some of that. Being poor and broke is seriously limiting - especially in the social life department.

But I’ll miss Thanksgivings in New Jersey, although the possibility of being closer to family and having the money to spend that time where I should be – at home… feels right. The job feels right – an opportunity like none other – doing something I truly believe I’ll love.

To be happy going to work everyday is, I think, something we all strive for and the promise of having that at such a young age… I’m probably ahead of the pack. I know what I want. I’m very close to getting there. It’s just a matter of not letting the loneliness and isolation of an entirely new place get to me. To be able to assimilate myself into a new group and find good, honest friends… and hopefully someday someone to love. And split the rent with. Who likes dogs.

Just a few more obstacles in my way… before I turn twenty-five and start a future that will be the rest of my life. And although I’m scared, I also think I’m incredibly lucky.

It’s an odd feeling to be so hopeful and scared and uncertain about something I’m so sure is the right choice for me. I guess I’m just conflicted about growing up and gaining responsibility.

But, if I’m lucky, I’ll skip the quarter-life crisis that so many of my peers are going through.


End Blog.

Evolution, Schmevolution!

Recently the school board in Dover, PA ruled that intelligent design could be taught alongside Darwinian evolution, in science classes - until a group of 11 parents decided to challenge the decision in court, on the grounds that intelligent design is merely creationism in disguise, and is therefore unconstitutional (the grounds being separation of church and state).

The Dover parents that took the situation to Federal Court heard the testimony of a leading architect of the intelligent-design movement defend his ideas in the courtroom and acknowledge that under his brand new sparkly definition of a scientific theory, astrology would fit as neatly as intelligent design.

Um, yes, but see, that's exactly the problem, Dumbass. Astrology isn't a science either. By expanding the definition of "scientific theory" to include intelligent design, you’re admitting that intelligent design is, as it stands now, NOT a science.

See, scientific theory requires that hypotheses be tested, so that they can be discovered as true or false. In other words, any scientific theory must be falsifiable (i.e. what you’re doing to Darwinian Evolution, making it a science). Intelligent design, which attributes the origins of life to a mysterious intelligence (God - wink, wink) is not provable or disprovable. AND THEREFORE NOT A SCIENCE!

*Rampages*

It seems the definition offered by the National Academy of Science, the largest and most prestigious organization of scientists in the Western world, was inadequate to contain the scope and splendor of intelligent design. So… they just up and changed the definition of science entirely. Good decision. Excellent choice.


Today I give a big shout out to my old home state of Pennsylvania for finally doing the right thing on Election Day. On Tuesday, all eight school board members up for re-election were booted out. In their place are those who campaigned against the teaching of intelligent design in science class.

I cheered when I heard the news and proclaimed that it indeed was "a great day for education" (what the KS BOE said after they voted to make the teaching of the principles of intelligent design mandatory).


*goes off on a tangent*

Speaking of the Kansas Board of Education…

Listen, if you want to discount evolution and fossil record, go ahead. Evolution is a theory, and though well based in scientific facts, there are a few problems and missing links in the fossil record. This is why it’s a theory. But it’s still science.

Meanwhile, if you must make the teachings of intelligent design mandatory, it should be done in a religion or philosophy course, where it belongs. The fact that evolution is too complex for you to understand doesn’t mean it needs to be attributed to a higher intelligence… it just means you’re not all that smart. I mean… Science class is just not the proper venue for this subject. Teach it elsewhere.

When your kids grow up and move on to college, they’re going to be in for a rude awakening. Colleges and universities will not teach alternatives to evolution in their introductory biology courses. And most philosophy classes are going to question existence entirely. Don’t be so closed minded as to influence young minds so early.

And if that is what you think the science class is doing, I suggest a whole new course devoted to this subject. Teach every theory out there. Evolution, intelligent design, creationism, the beliefs of those that follow the Flying Spaghetti Monster (http://www.venganza.org/) … all of it. In a class not labeled as science.

I wasn’t lucky enough to learn about evolution in school. My school board thought it necessary to completely shirk the issue. Avoiding it is also not the answer. I wasn’t introduced to evolution until college… and trust me; it was more difficult to handle, never having a background on the information. This is also not the way to go. Boo Blue Mountain. Boo on you.

*goes back to original topic at hand*


But anyway… back to Dover…

Today, on the news, I heard this: (it just keeps getting better)

The Reverend Pat Robertson told Pennsylvanians who voted the members of the Dover Area school board out of office for supporting intelligent design have also rejected God as well.

He’s quoted as saying, "If there is a disaster in your area, don't turn to God. You just voted God out of your city."

Now, I don’t know much about anything religious… but I was always under the impression God was the forgiving sort. And just because the town’s voted to teach science in the science classroom doesn’t mean that they are not religious folk. I’ve gotten the opposite impression living in the region.

But the fact that Robertson is even suggesting the area be struck by disaster in the wake of Katrina and Rita and Wilma and the tornadoes in Indiana is insensitive and obtuse of him. It's frustrating. This dude totally needs to shut the hell up. Yeah, I said hell in regards to Reverend Pat Robertson. He’s not spreading God’s ideals, he’s being an asshole.

Besides, God isn't going to smite his followers because of a silly election. And if he does, who would want to believe in that kind of God anyway?

*Rampages more*

I am and always will be a scientist at heart. And while I am proud of the voters in Dover, I am still sad for the state of affairs in Kansas. It’s a giant step backwards in science education. And although I encourage questioning and curiosity for advancements in the field, this is not the way to go.

*Heavy sigh*

End Blog.

I Spy

From my vantage point in front of the computer, I spy, with my little eyes something that ...

[1] Is red: *looks around for quite some time until…* The red key fob on my spare key to the Escape. *realizes I overlooked a Dr Pepper can and red pen sitting right under my nose*

[2] Is shiny: A small blue mirror on my desk reflecting light from the window. Ooo, shiny.

[3] Is ugly: The mess that is my desk. Especially the junk sitting in the plastic bin in front of me. And also the frame on that Madonna poster. It’s coming apart. I should fix that. Oh, and my LVC diploma frame that is still sitting with nothing in it.

[4] Is made of wood: My desk! Easy peasy.

[5] Is sharp: My pocket knife. That really shouldn’t be sitting open, now should it? I could cut myself and bleed out and… ooo, that’d be something red.

[6] Is blue: A matchbook from Continental, a pool lounge in Rosslyn. Not like lounge by the pool with a drink, more like a lounge that has drinks and a pool...table.

[7] Should be in the garbage: The empty Dr Pepper can and cottage cheese container. I have stuff that should be in the dishwasher, too. And the medicine cabinet. But I’m not telling you about them.

[8] Makes you smile: The picture of Savvy as a little baby puppy, taken before we could bring her home. Wanna know what makes me sad? LVC didn’t send me a new calendar this year. *looks at calendar stuck on August* So sad.

[9] Doesn’t belong: Other than the garbage? My toothbrush. How’d that get in here?

[10] You doubt anyone else will have from their little vantage point: A ticket to Madonna’s Drown World Tour and one to the Re-Invention Tour. Or a tennis ball with a smiley face drawn on it. His name is Dunlop. Ooooor... BOTH!

End Blog.

Because I'm bored. So, why not?

10 years ago:
1. I was the Energizer Bunny in the Halloween parade. The costume made an appearance every year afterward, because what else can you really be with a bass drum strapped to your chest?
2. I found my pure love of biology class and had the highest grade without much effort.
3. Mr. Evans threw a chair at Bumper Peters in the middle of Spanish class.
4. I dated Josh again, because he was the only boy to ever have much interest in me.
5. I was taking Algebra II with Hendrix - the ball carrier, a bunch of seniors, and Alison. I hated it with a passion and failed the final because I'm slow and didn't finish due to a well hidden learning disability of some sort. I got my one and only high school C in that class. It also kept me from the math honor society until senior year. I’m still not bitter over one freakin’ test... really. (Although, I would like to note that completely failing a final and still getting a C is mighty fine work on my part.)

5 years ago:
1. I was living with Kara who turned out to be an awesome roommate and funny as hell. Plus, she helped me annoy J with the Hippopotamus song.
2. I was taking Organic Chemistry and cursing its existence.
3. I met Claudia and Cristina, but never saw them together and still couldn’t tell them apart. What was my problem?
4. J became my bestest friend in the entire world.
5. I was crushing over an adorable freshman named Kyle who eventually dropped out of college and fell off the face of the planet.

1 year ago:
1. I thought I was going to die in the Mustang when the brakes went out and I made the worst decision of my life – to continue driving it to the mechanic.
2. I finally came to terms with living in DC and wasn’t so miserably annoyed with life.
3. I started my job at the Secret Service (which is most likely linked to 2).
4. I was consoling Mandy about Paul being so far away.
5. I slept through Criminal Law II nearly every class and still managed a B, although it did wreck my 4.0 at GW.

Yesterday:
1. I watched the X-Files.
2. Alison called me twice for advice.
3. I ate leftover Thai food.
4. I watch Erin Brockovich on TV.
5. I didn’t see my roommate at all.

5 snacks I like:
1. Pizza goldfish
2. Chocolate ice cream
3. Potato Chips
4. Granola Bars
5. Fruit roll ups

5 songs I know all the words to:
1. Like a Prayer - Madonna
2. Guttermouth – Bree Sharp
3. Collide – Howie Day
4. Goodbye Earl – The Dixie Chicks
5. Least Complicated – Indigo Girls

If I had a million dollars:
1. I’d pay off all my school debt.
2. I’d give a large chunk of money to my sister and parents.
3. I’d find someone to help me invest it wisely.
4. I’d give a portion of it to the Leukemia and Lymphoma society.
5. I’d buy a house somewhere and get a dog. And then I’d sing the BNL song “If I Had a Million Dollars” continuously.

5 things I would never wear:
1. A bikini.
2. A belly button ring.
3. A wig.
4. Lots of makeup.
5. Braces.

Favorite TV shows:
1. Friends
2. X-Files
3. Buffy the Vampire Slayer
4. CSI, if only to be angry with it
5. A marathon of just about anything. Seriously, put something on 3 times in a row and I’m in.

5 bad habits:
1. Laziness
2. Letting my apartment become a mess
3. Procrastination
4. Distractibility
5. Being a hermit

5 biggest joys:
1. Friends who know how to make me laugh
2. Spending time with family
3. Staying up late into the wee hours with someone when it feels like you’re the only two people alive
4. Curling up and sleeping next to someone
5. Big dogs

5 fictional people I want to date:
1. Chandler Bing, from Friends
2. Luka Kovac, from ER
3. Maggie Stone, from All My Children
4. Nick Stokes, from CSI
5. Willow Rosenberg, from Buffy the Vampire Slayer

End Blog.