NoSalesTax

Two Elon alumni (2002) have pooled their talents to bring excitement and joy to your day. One is a classy woman who combines her Italian and feminine powers to influence men of all shapes and sizes. The other is a tall blond man who relies on wit and boyish good looks to impress women, especially when they're drunk. Join them in their epic pursuit of the phenomenon known as adulthood. NoSalesTax side effects may include addiction and abrupt laughter as colleagues look on in confused jealousy.

Friday, January 14, 2005

In response to monotony

I can understand what you’re saying, J-Mazz, but I would volunteer the notion that maybe you might try looking at life from another perspective.
I sit at a desk every day, as well. And while I do enjoy writing, reading, conversing with people, and recruiting, it does get a bit monotonous. However, when things start to get dull I like to remind myself, that while I spend 7.5 hours a day at work, I get to spend the other 16.5 hours a day any way I want.
Sometimes this means putting on comfy pajamas and laughing my ass off with my roommate at bad TV. Sometimes it means watching my boyfriend play darts while his friends buy me beer. Sometimes it means cooking a wonderful meal, crocheting a hat, and reading a book. Sometimes it means going to the gym.
When I get done at work, I genuinely look forward to the hours yet to come. They are mine, I do with them what I please.
I recognize that without that 9 to 5 (or 8 to 4:15 in my case) I wouldn’t be able to relax, workout, create or love….I’d have no money. I’d have no where to live, no heat, no food. (And let’s face it, no food is a friggin tragedy).
Office life is not for everyone. Many days I look out the window and wonder if my time might be better spent combing beaches in Thailand for bodies, teaching Japanese kids how to speak English, creating my own clothing line, or even laying on the couch, all day, watching Maury Povich. It is these times when I remind myself that this job, this 8 to 4:15 is what lets me do whatever I want between 4:16 pm and 7:59 am. My job gives me the freedom to wear want I want, cook what I want, go where I want, see who I want. It gives me the means to provide for myself, to live. It gives me a reason to get that much more excited about the weekend. It makes me look forward to, and plan, the hours I spend outside the office.
I’ll admit that I don’t use all the office hours working on “office junk”. I find time to blog, to IM my roommate and to surf craftster.org. Hey, everyone needs a break every once and a while.
Maybe you are made for the great outdoors, maybe you will find your life’s work exploring a cave or teaching a child or fighting a fire. But for the time being, enjoy what hours you have outside of work, be creative and live.

The World Weeps

It's been a sad few weeks for the world. First, the unthinkable wave of tsunamis demolishing Indonesia and its neighboring nations. California's steady rainfall and ensuing mudslides followed. And just yesterday, the Britney Spears cover on my workout notebook fell off at the Y. I'm scared to think of what will happen next.

The End of Adventures?

The Internet’s down today, at least as of 850am. So instead of getting some work done, I decided to find other ways to waste time. Typin a blog entry on Word is the first activity. One day after a lovely 70-degree afternoon, DC has returned to its miserable winter weather, which consists of rain and wind. In fact, this morning while running to cross the street before the light changed, my hat went flying off my head. I looked like Hideki Matsui every time he prances after a foul ball in leftfield. It is that windy today. Luckily, my hat landed in a puddle, making the experience even more pleasurable. I can’t wait to get back to snow country in a couple weeks.

After sitting here for more than five minutes, wondering what to write about, I realized my life has become a lot less adventurous. Instead of spending my days building fences on Catalina or fighting fires in the Eldorado, I now find myself relegated to discussing naked men I encounter in the locker room each day. My friends used to love hearing my stories from AmeriCorps, packaged nicely in a mass email sent once or twice a month. Now, I don’t even bother to discuss my daily routine, which is just that—routine.

I will begin my first career at the end of this month. I’ve met my future supervisors and they’re awesome, and I’ll be working at a YMCA, which is like my sanctuary. Imagine Michael Jackson getting a job at a kiddie porn store. That’s how happy I am to be working at the Y.

But there’s still a slice of me that longs for the everyday adventures that come with unusual jobs. Two years ago, my days consisted of teaching kids how to read, leading after-school programs w/ the sister I never had, and building a community garden with some of my best friends. For the past year, I’ve sat in front of a computer each day, slowly becoming another American stuck in a monotonous job.

Is it normal for our lives to slowly tame as we get older? Or am I squandering valuable moments of life during that small period of time where one is completely independent? Once a creature of consistency, I’ve become somewhat of a wanderer. Friends call me a nomad. I’m not sure if this is because of my AmeriCorps experience or the girl I loved during that time. All I know is I’ve lived in DC for exactly 365 days, and I am ready to get out. I’m not knocking the city, which has supplied some good times (Pizza MAAAAAAAART). In fact, I’d probably be sick of Atlantis if I discovered it and lived there for a year.

I recently devised a plan to inject some excitement back into my life. I’m gonna tackle my new job with plenty of energy and creativity. I never thought I’d say this, but work will be my top priority. And after a few years, once I’ve left my stamp on the Y and done all I can to improve its programs, I’ll take a break from “real life.” Maybe I’ll become a forest ranger, or live in Europe for a while (I have dual citizenship thanks to my French mom). Whatever path I choose, I’m sure it will offer more adventures than has the past year. I’m sure it’ll make for more better blog entries, as well. But I’m sure gonna miss the strange locker room tendencies of naked men.

Girls get naked, too

Taking a cue from J-Mazz, I will write about my locker room experience yesterday.
I saw a lot of boobs.
I had to scoot by some boobs because the boobs were right by my locker. I came pretty close to brushing against some boobs because the owner of the boobs apparently didn’t want to move. I mean it’s a free country, stand still if you will, but personally given the choice to have or not have a stranger rub up on my boobs, I’d pick not….and I’d get out of the way.
Point being, it’s not just men that bear all in the locker room. It’s ladies, too.
I am one of those careful locker room dressers that usually figures out a way to cover various tids and bits by maneuvering my shirt in such a way that is probably not very attractive. But let’s be honest- if I was trying to be cute and impress other locker room ladies, I’d just show them my boobs, anyway.
Just a little locker room story. The end.

Thursday, January 13, 2005

Quote of the Day

"Even though you're an a**hole, I'm really gonna miss you." -- fellow TTP survivor Emily

Ode to the Mazz

When my radio/blog co-host told me he was leaving, I was excited for him. Living here in the district hasn’t been the best experience for him (although he has had many a memory made at the Y and on his block with the vagrant posse who yells at him). I think a new start in a new place might be the way to get a new mindset. Maybe that’s what DC was supposed to be, but maybe he is really ready now.
I don’t get to see my bro as much as I’d like, we are both busy and I am happily rammed up my boyfriend’s butt much of the time….plus if we spent more time together, J-Mazz might not have all the rewarding locker room experiences he has written about. Far be it from me to hinder locker room experiences.
But isn’t that what friends do? See each other scarcely and talk about how great it would be to see each other more?
Oh, that’s just me? Crap. I’ve been a bad friend. Let me see if I can make it up to you, J-Mazz, with this little poem….

We met with a shot in the chest
We bonded over grunts and nods
Who knew I’d learn you were the best
At making laughter flow like….a god?

The position master, residence life
The Big Kahuna, the boat
Spiky blonde hair, guide me through strife
Your Patriots and Red Sox gloat

Posing for the sports tip of the week
Eating pizza at 3 am
Steeling a wheel chair off the street
The Pendulum- never the same again

99 cent margarita night
free chips till the Real World comes on
Ending bad dreams- you showed me the light
Peeing on my neighbors lawn

Good luck- new city, show him the way
Get him a woman and a new dream
Make a new start, but remember old days
Don’t forget the Phoenix scream

Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeekkkkkkkkk!!!!!!!!!!
(And then Padgett puts his head in his hands and tries to figure out how he can get us switched into Byung’s class)



Wednesday, January 12, 2005

Today at the Y

Played ball w/ one of Len Bias' former teammates today. He was even wearing Maryland shorts. Another guy told me he was supposedly in the room w/ Bias the nite he died. I didn't bring it up, though.

After getting poked in the eye twice today, I'm contemplating the purchase of basketball goggles. I already look really cool wearing my mouthguard every time I play. Then again, once you get your teeth knocked in, you don't really mind what you look like as long as your teeth are safe. An hour after getting poked a second time, my right eye is still a bit blurry and I'm experiencing a bit of pain in the top of my eyeball. Whoever says basketball is not a physical sport should try playing down low for a game. Maybe my eye injury will allow me to leave work early today. Then again, maybe not.

Today's strange locker room incident occurred in the shower. Keep reading, it's nothing graphic. While showering in my stall, I noticed the guy next to me had his hand on top of the wall separating our stalls. Since I'm tall, I can see over all the stalls, and noticed his other hand gripping his stall's other wall. His thumbs were facing away from the showerhead, which made me wonder if he was giving himself a quick enema. I'll end w/ that.