Arrogance Tempered by Humanity

Southeast Asia Takeaways

2009-05-28T11:45:00.000-07:00

In the grand tradition of Top Ten lists, here's what we think you should know about Southeast Asia, and maybe a little bit about life in general:

10. Just eat it. Many fruits in Asia are very unfamiliar to what you may be used to. Don't bother to ask what it is...just try it. More than likely it's delicious. And besides, why do you need to know the name of what you won't find at home? It'll only be disappointing.

9. There is a system - you just can't see it. Our many interactions with airport employees, hotel staff, restaurant servers, tour guides, etc. taught us to just trust in their competence (something we're not used to doing at home). Even when it appears that no one knows what's going on, you'll find that it all works out...in the end. Don't freak out and pull the andon cord.

8. You can try, but you'll never understand the Japanese. God bless em, but we encountered Japanese tourists everywhere we went, and they never failed to baffle us. From the incessant photo-taking, mask-wearing, inefficient health screening, peace-sign posing, sun-avoiding, to the readily apparent repression, we're still just very confused.

7. Have a "vacation strategy." Wisam did an amazing job of segmenting our journey into sufficient amounts of what Arianne calls "active time" and "ass time." Play and rest, then play and rest some more. You don't want to be burned out, do you?

6. Thermal scanners are worthless. Truly. Look at Japan, and see #8.

5. Don't take it personally. Besides the US, it is perfectly acceptable everywhere else in the world to stare. Unabashedly. Join in - it's pretty fun.

4. Don't judge a person by their size. Small people can be a lot stronger than they look. Cases in point: the small Thai women that kicked our asses on the massage table, and Daht, our Sa Pa tour guide who basically ran up a mountain.

3. Take a culinary tour. Sampling the regional and national food (and drink!) is just as important, if not more than, the sightseeing part of the trip. Don't worry about the after effects...it's nothing a little Cipro can't handle :)

2. Listen to your instincts. The most rewarding adventures often have objectors at the outset. Both of our families questioned our ambitious trek, but we went ahead anyway and had an amazing time.

1. A friend you can travel with (and not want to kill by the end) is a rare treasure indeed. These are relationships worth tending and nurturing.

If you're headed to Southeast Asia, let us know! We have lots of opinions and recommendations!

Day 21....Homecoming

2009-05-26T11:43:00.000-07:00

Unlike our journey into Asia, the flights were fairly uneventful. We made all of our connections and even got on an earlier flight from Atlanta to Boston, arriving safely (albeit in the 45-degree weather...that's Fahrenheit) around 8:30pm on 27 May.

Days 17-20: Ballin in Bali

2009-05-23T11:28:00.000-07:00

After a few hours layover in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, we boarded another Air Asia flight for Bali, Indonesia. We arrived late at Nikko Bali Resort and Spa. In the morning we met up with our sectionmates (BD, Mel, Lauren, Emily, and Tzveta), who had been on their own Asia trek. We enjoyed frolicking in the sun and surf. That night we visited Uluwatu temple to watch the sunset and enjoy a cultural dance show. We finished up with a traditional family-style Balinese dinner.

The next day was more of the same: sun, surf, drink, ass-time. You get the idea. In the evening we went to Ku De Ta, an uber-hip outdoor restaurant and lounge right on the beach in Seminyak. As we approached the road barricades and security, I couldn't help but think this was the kind of place filled with Westerners that a terrorist might like to blow up. I tried not to think about it and had a great time with Wisam, drinking watermelon crushes and muching on quesadillas, gyoza, and edamame.

We departed for Singapore the next afternoon, in preparation for the 20 hours inflight back to Boston.

Click here: Complete Bali pics

Day 16: Angkor Wat and a Cruise Down "Shit River"

2009-05-22T11:13:00.000-07:00

Shortly before sunrise, we met up with our personal tour guide for the day (I can't remember his name exactly, so I'll call him "Exquisite," the term he used to describe all of the temples and artwork, which is about right). Despite the cloud cover, the view was a magnificent sight to see, especially the reflection of the Angkor Wat entrance in the moat.

Exquisite suggested we also check out a floating village on Tonle Sap Lake, the largest freshwater area in all of Southeast Asia. Once on our tour boat, we learned that the citizens of the lake use it for everything: cooking, cleaning, fishing, travel...pee-pee and poo-poo. At that point, even us open-minded world travelers flinched. If there was any chance of catching malaria or some other rare disease in those shitty brown waters, this was it. Which basically took most of the fun and beauty out of the tour. Anyway, we also saw an unusual aquarium floating near the village.

After the tour we insisted on returning to the hotel to bathe and then promptly booked appointments at the nearby spa. Wisam received a massage and facial, while Arianne opted for some reflexology and a body scrub. Ahhhh...every day should be Cambodia spa day.

That night we met up with some HBS friends for a dinner at Hotel Le Paik and a Cambodian tasting menu. In the morning we would depart for our last port of call: BALI!!!

Day 15: Angkor Thom and Siem Reap Or "Tomb Raider Restaurant"

2009-05-21T01:35:00.000-07:00

We caught an early flight to Siem Reap Cambodia, the town closest to famed Buddhist ruins at Angkor. As the small puddlejumper touched down in the humid morning air, I noted the lack of major paved roads. Nonetheless, Mr. Sin, our "handler,"as Wisam has taken to calling the hotel staff that meet us at each airport, greeted us warmly and quickly ushered us to the hotel Pavillon DÓrient. We were welcomed with cool lemongrass tea and our own private tuk tuk (a motorbike towing a 2-seater rickshaw) and driver, Mr. Sai.

Mr. Sai gave us a pleasant tour of Angkor Thom and its many ruins and then carted us into town for lunch at the Red Piano, a second home for the cast and crew of Tomb Raider, starring Angelina Jolie. There is even a cocktail named for the actress. Arianne enjoyed a red curry while Wisam took down samosas and a banana fruit shake (her favorite so far). We then retreated to our hotel to escape the afternoon heat.

Later that evening, Mr. Sai drove us to the Foreign Correspondents Club for dinner. We wanted to get some rest in preparation for the early wakeup call to view Angkor Wat at sunrise.

Click here for Complete Cambodia pics

Day 14: Ho Chi Minh City Sightseeing or "Some Serious A$$ time"

2009-05-20T21:21:00.000-07:00

Over breakfast we decided that the luxurious amenities of the Legend Hotel were just too good to pass up for another visit to a museum or a pagoda, and we had earned some rest prior to traveling on to Angkor Wat in Cambodia. Wisam declared May 20th "National Chillaxin Day," and Arianne happily agreed.

After a much-needed workout and some pool time, we headed to nearby Sushi Bar for lunch and then a siesta. Had sunset drinks at Saigon Saigon, a rooftop bar at the famed Caravelle Hotel, which apparently plays host to some aggressive sex tourism. Legend Hotel, where we stayed, does not allow "visitors"after 9pm, and we saw that policy strictly enforced. Later we took in a late dinner and some in-depth girl talk at China Temple before calling it a night.

Click here for Complete Saigon pics

Day 13: "Just-in-time delivery" Or HBS Douchebag strikes again

2009-05-19T20:45:00.000-07:00

Had Wisam and I been a couple, our luxurious room and the surroundings at Ha An hotel would have provided a tempting backdrop for a very romantic stay. As it turned out, our drunken revelry the night before just made for a very restful sleep.

In the morning, we indulged in another delectable breakfast buffet, followed by what can only be described as a capitalist consumption feeding frenzy. Between scarves for ourselves and souvenirs for loved ones, we singlehandedly stimulated the Vietnamese economy. It was kind of disgusting actually, but really really fun.

We ran into our friend from the Hoi An flight, Sam, sitting alone in a cafe, drowning his sorrows in a Coca-Cola. When we asked how his night had turned out, he grimaced and revealed that his far-fetched plans with the beautiful Emma were foiled by some open-shirted, fake-n-baked, cocky Rico Suave...none other than HBS Douchebag (see Day 12 post). He lamented, "I just don't understand. We spent the whole day together. I helped her pick out a suit, we got massages and had a great dinner together, then we went to the bar where we saw you...then that guy swoops in and steals my girl." Sam looked confused when Wisam and I looked at each other and erupted into laughter. "We go to school with him," we responded. Sam searched our faces for some sort of confirmation that this dude had violated some international code of 'bro-hood. "Yup," we confirmed. "You were the victim of an international cock-block." He still looked sad, so we tried to give him a game plan for that evening, recommending that he book a room at our hotel, Ha An, which would be a very romantic locale to take a lady friend. I added, "Yea, if Wisam and I were a couple, there would have been a lot of sweet sweet lovemaking going on last night." It suddenly dawned on him that we were not, in fact, the lesbians he had suspected us to be and looked even more disappointed. But there was no time to console him. We wished Sam safe travels and went on our way.

The afternoon was jam-packed. We picked up Wisam's suit, I had a cute set of custom sandals made, and we did a second fitting for our dresses, while they promised to have the finished product ready by 4pm to deliver to our hotel. At almost 4:30pm, a woman on a motorbike delivered our package, and we headed to Danang to catch a 6pm flight to Ho Chi Minh City.

After nearly half an hour in a Saigon cab in rush hour, we arrived at the super-luxe Legend Hotel (motto: "Not a myth, but a legend." Baller!) in District 1. Really only pics can describe this place, which we will post. The hotel was a significant upgrade after some moderate "roughing it" in Hanoi and Sa Pa. The staff obviously thought we were homeless when we checked in wearing our sweaty Western tourist streetwear.

We freshened up and put on some decent clothes before grabbing dinner at steakhouse Amigos, where we dined on Argentinean filet mignon and some beef carpaccio. Another highlight: local Vietnamese beer 333. Shortly thereafter we snuggled into our comfy beds at Legend, in a room overlooking the busy Saigon River, illuminated with commercial watercraft by night.

Day 12: Hoi An Or "Buy-Everything-in-sight" Day

2009-05-18T03:30:00.000-07:00

We finally bid adieu to Hanoi and flew to Danang airport. During the flight, we sat next to a friendly American man, Sam, from L.A. In between jobs, he was traveling around Vietnam and regaled us with some of his tales. When Arianne tried to shock him with her tale of the 80% male flight to Bangkok and her strong suspicion that they were traveling for sex tourism, Sam just responded, "Well, maybe I should find a girlfriend so when I go there I won't be harassed by prostitutes." We just nodded. The flirt bait was out, but we weren't biting. Sam didn't press any further, probably suspecting that the two American women traveling together were indeed a couple.

A car from our hotel, Ha An, met us to drive the 39km to Hoi An, a beautiful seaside town largely untouched by the successive wars. Our hotel itself was set in a lush private garden just a few steps from the Old City, home to more than 500 custom tailor shops.

After a quick lunch of fish, fried spinach, and rice, we proceeded to walk about town admiring the many shops and farmers market. After scoffing about how we would not succumb to the tourist traps, we found ourselves in a random store looking at beautiful fabrics with Vietnamese women eagerly taking our measurements. $70 later, Arianne had ordered two beautiful dresses suitable for the upcoming summer wedding season.

That night we dined at Mango Rooms, a Mick Jagger favorite, according to Lonely Planet. It did not disappoint. At this open-air tiny restaurant (that allows you to walk through the kitchen, just in case you had any concerns about the hygiene), we feasted on fresh seared tuna, fresh spring rolls, a mango citrus salad, and two cocktails, Pinky (with passion and dragon fruits) and the Mango Daiquiri.

Afterward, we followed the loud music and voices to Before & Now, a pseudo-hipster Euro Pop- style bar. Just as we prepared to settle down with our Tiger Beer for some people watching, a trio of men about our age descended the steep staircase. They looked starkly out of place...and yet oddly familiar. Where had we seen these dudes before? I hadn't believed the stories to be true, but my classmates swore up and down that you could not go anywhere in the world without running into your fellow HBS-mates. Arianne groaned, having been happy to avoid the sense of familiarity for more than a week. She quickly glanced down, hoping not to be noticed, and warned Wisam of incoming trouble. Lucky for us, the threesome could not be bothered to have noticed anything more than their own hubris and did not engage us in an awkward convo. The trifecta was led by an open-shirted, fake-n-baked Rico Suave who shall not be named...for the purposes of this entry we will call him HBS Douchebag. Suddenly mesmerized, we watched as he strode up to a young (possibly American) woman who looked to be no older than eighteen. He charmed her and her less attractive friend and promptly guided them to a more private table in the back of the bar, minions in tow. Arianne rolled her eyes predictably, and glanced the other direction just in time to see our friend from the Hoi An flight, Sam, enter the bar with a beautiful Dutch woman named Emma. He was clearly smitten, greeting us and introducing her. After catching up, we went back to our private conversation while Sam put the moves on Emma.

Downing a few more drinks, we made our way back to Ha An for bedtime. By comparison, this proved one of the latest nights we spent out and about.

Click here for Complete Hoi An Pics

Day 11: Halong Bay Cruise Or Good Vacation Karma

2009-05-16T05:35:00.000-07:00

After a 4am arrival, we headed back to homebase, Hanoi Elegance 2, for a shower and breakfast prior to our boat tour of Halong Bay, a designated World Heritage site.

Our tour guide, Zoom (probably not how it's spelled in Vietnamese, but he did say "like your camera"), kindly showed us to our private car and driver...clue #1 that this would be a ballerific day. During the 3 hour drive, Zoom told us lots about the local area and Vietnamese culture:
1. Major exports (coffee beans, cashews, textiles)
2. Motorbike-related accidents per day (in Vietnam): 100. Motorbike-related deaths per day: 36!
3. Major annual rice harvests (1 in the north, 2 in Hanoi and central Vietnam, 3 in the South)
4. Vietnamese funeral rituals (in the countryside the dead are not cremated but buried - with a spoonful of rice and three coins in the mouth - in a temporary plot. After 3 years, the family visits a shaman and asks if it is a good time to gather the dead's bones. If yes, the family digs up the temporary plot, at night, and if the body is sufficiently decayed, this means that the deceased is happy in their next life/new home. If not, then that is very bad luck, and the family must return to collect the bones later. The remaining bones are cleaned, gathered into a clay coffin, and reburied in the permanent family plot. The anniversary of the deceased is celebrated each year by the family with a large party with lots of food).

Upon arrival at Halong Bay Harbor, Zoom escorted us to our private junk, where the chef, captain, and crew waited to take us on a "3 hour tour," very Gilligan's Island. We first docked at a nearby beach to visit two caves: The cave of "Heavenly Palace" and the cave of "Wooden Stakes," where a famous Viet general hid the weapons that defended the country against Mongol invasion centuries ago. The Heavenly Palace cave was filled with beautiful stalactites and stalagmites (yup, we remembered the difference!), illuminated by colored lights and fountains.

After the cave visit, our chef served a much-too-large lunch of seafood spring rolls, squid, fresh fish, stir-fried beef, ginger chicken, water spinach, french fries, and rice. Of course we couldn't possibly finish it all, despite our best efforts. Following lunch, we headed up to the deck to sunbathe and to observe the many islets and even a functioning floating fishing village. It was all very beautiful. Bottom line: Halong Bay is HIGHLY recommended.

In the evening, we were driven back to Hanoi and delivered to our hotel. It's been a long day, and Wisam already fell asleep, so I guess I probably will go to bed, too.

Click here for complete Halong Bay Pics

Day 10: More Rain in Sa Pa or "How to Entertain Yourself in a Small Town"

2009-05-15T22:28:00.000-07:00

By breakfast it was apparent to us that trekking would be wet and miserable. We opted to meet Daht, pose for a pic, give him his tip and hang out in town until our train back to Hanoi departed in the evening...hence me writing this post from the Internet cafe.

We retired to Highlands Coffee for some more Vietnamese deliciousness and played some UNO with a couple backpacking kids for a few hours. Suddenly we were both glad we weren't touring the international hostel circuit any longer...definitely too old for that stuff.

The rain stopped (shocking!) just before our scenic drive back to Lao Cai rail station. We met up with our Spaniards again and began possibly THE most uncomfortable train journey in the history of Vietnam.

Click here for complete Sa Pa pics

Day 9: Trekking in Sa Pa or "The Rains in Vietnam fall mainly on my vacation"

2009-05-15T22:18:00.000-07:00

Around 5:30am, the train stopped in Lao Cai in northwest Vietnam. The rail station is actually only 2.5km from the China border...not that there's a lot to do in a border town. According to Lonely Planet, it's not worth visiting unless you really have a thing for border towns. We were met by guides that loaded us onto a bus with a bunch of other Western tourists, and we settled in for the hourlong drive to Sa Pa town, way up in the mountains. We climbed higher and higher into the mists, enjoying the lush vegetation.

It had already begun to rain, and little did we know, it would not stop for the duration of our trip. We had breakfast and checked into the "high-end" (according to Lonely Planet) Chau Long hotel, which resembles a castle. The owner bought out competing hotels and expanded so as not to obstruct the beautiful valley views.

That afternoon we met our personal tour guide, Daht, a native of a neighboring town. He led us on a 5km trek to Cat Cat, a local Hmong village. We saw an amazing waterfall, rice paddies being planted, and the traditional life of ethnic Vietnamese. It was awesome...and wet.

After a nice hike, we rewarded ourselves with some MORE Vietnamese coffee and pastries, followed by much-needed showers and a siesta. Daht had promised us another tour if the weather let up, but it did not. So we enjoyed a nice dinner, some CNN, and quiet time, hoping that tomorrow's weather would prove better.

Click here for complete Sa Pa pics

Day 8: More Hanoi Or "Hail to the Ho"

2009-05-13T21:53:00.000-07:00

After a late start (everything in Vietnam closes for lunch), we visited Ho Lao prison aka the "Hanoi Hilton." Once known as the largest prison in Indochina, this facility housed Vietnamese political prisoners that resisted the French occupation up until the 1950s. The site witnessed unscrupulous acts of torture and abuse against Vietnamese revolutionaries. To be honest, I was too freaked out to walk down the narrow aisle of death row cells.

Thereafter, it was used to detain captured US pilots during the Vietnam War in the 1960s and 1970s. The most famous prisoner was, of course, US Senator (and not president...holla!) John McCain. On display are his flight suit, parachute and personal effects he had at the time of capture. He couldn't have been happy about that. As far as the pictures revealed, the pilots apparently didn't have it too bad. Lots of pics of them playing basketball, attending Mass, eating Christmas dinner at a set table. I don't get it.

Afterwards, we stopped at Quan An Ngon for a delicious pho lunch and some meat dumplings. Yum!

Next stop: Ho Chi Minh complex. Or as we renamed him, "H to the Izzo." We caught the 3pm changing of the guard, by accident, and were discouraged from photographing the act. Nearby was the One-Pillared Pagoda (underwhelming) and the Ho Chi Minh museum (there are 3!), which is basically a bunch of propoganda about how the Ho inspired worldwide movements toward independence...by virtue of his bringing communism to Vietnam. We intend to go to another "Ho" museum in the city named for him to see if this theme persists.

After a hot and humid afternoon, we retired again to Le Pub for some cold beers and Kindle time (why am I still reading Twilight?). This time we discovered the lemon and mint smoothie was a refreshing hit.

Our hotel sent a bellboy to accompany us to the Hanoi Rail station, where we would take an overnight train to Sa Pa in the northwest for some trekking and visits to local ethnic villages. Each sleeper car had about eight compartments with two sets of bunk beds each; we shared ours with two Spaniards named Israel and Natalia, who were lovely enough to offer us Oreos in order to bridge the language barrier. Arianne made some small talk with her limited Spanish, but sooner rather than later we all settled in for sleep and the bumpy ride to Lao Cai.

Click here for complete Hanoi pics

Day 7: Walking Tour of Hanoi or Death by Motorbike

2009-05-13T05:44:00.000-07:00

I know we keep talking about food, but it really is so much better than the crap we put in our bodies back home! The day started with fresh fruit and french toast while we watched some music videos in the hotel restaurant. Apparently Ne-Yo is a BFD here...who knew? We keep seeing his face everywhere.

Apparently all tourists here bought the Lonely Planet Vietnam guide, so we saw many "others" taking the same walking tour suggested by the book. On Hoan Kiem Lake, we visited the Ngoc Son Temple, where there is the remains of a giant (magic? good luck?) tortoise, which is 160 kilos and 2m long! No one is sure if there are other tortoises in this urban lake, and if so, how they survive in such an urban setting. But if you see one, good luck should come to you!

After a lukewarm beer at Cafe Les Arts, we hit up the famous little spot for some Cha ca, or fish grilled with veggies and served with rice noodles and a sweet sauce. Not to be missed!

There we waited out the afternoon rain showers before heading to our hotel to arrange for tickets to an evening performance of the water puppet show. This tradition is over 1,000 years old and uses a live Vietnamese musical ensemble, call-and-response, and marionettes floating on waist-deep water to tell pastoral legends and fables about the land. It was really entertaining.

For dinner, I had the BEST.FRIED.RICE.EVER and Wisam decimated her bun cha. After a mere 3 Heinekens, this jetlagged chica passed out in the middle of flossing, woke up long enough to finsh Twilight Book 3 (still awful writing) and drift off to sleep.

Click here for complete Hanoi pics

Day 6: Monsoon or Thailand gets two thumbs way up

2009-05-12T05:28:00.000-07:00

Slept in and enjoyed a late breakfast on the beach at our hotel, Waterfront Bhoput. Then the rain started. No matter, we had an afternoon flight to Bangkok, and then on to Hanoi. Just when we thought we were home free, T.M.I. Michael insisted on giving us aride to the airport.

The following is why Bangkok Airways, a low cost carrier, kicks Delta/NWA/Continental's ass with its hands tied behind its back. We arrive at Koh Samui airport an check in. Unfortunately, our flight is delayed, says the agent. But there is an earlier flight boarding now for Bangkok. Would you like to be rebooked? How much, we ask skeptically. For free. SOLD. She then apologizes that there might not be enough food for us...on this 45 minute flight. Not a problem.

We touch down in Bangkok and set about killing a few hours before our connection to Hanoi. May I say, the BKK airport is just beautiful. Lots of cool statues and very ornate decor. After an attempt at some really awful dim sum, we found some delicious fruit smoothies and checked out the duty-free shopping. Wisam educated Arianne regarding the "vacation fallacy": whatever shiny bauble you think you must buy immediately, be assured that you will see it again before the end of your trip.

Apparently it takes at least two Harvard MBAs (almost) to find Terminal F. Maybe it was lingering jetlag; maybe we're just retarded. You take your pick. But find it we did, and once I distracted Wisam with some CNBC at the gate, everything seemed to fall into place.

The flight to Hanoi was uneventful (just the way we like it), but upon arriving at immigration, we noted the health screening area (!). Silly us, we thought Vietnam wouldn't bother with such trivialities. Au contraire. The communists keep it mad real. Arianne's heart was racing because she still had the sniffles and they sat her down to take her temperature. Amazingly, we once again narrowly escaped quarantine. There's not enough Kindle time in the world to make that palatable in Vietnam.

A car was waiting for us to take us to Hanoi Elegance 2 (don't ask me where 1 is) in the Old Quarter. Again it had been a long day and we passed out promptly.

Click here for complete Thailand pics

Day 5: Feeling pukey

2009-05-11T05:24:00.000-07:00

Not much to report. Caught something (not swine flu!) on the flight and just wanted to chill by the pool with my Kindle. Oh yea, and I'm reading Twilight. Terrible writing. Compelling enough to want to finish the series, though.

For dinner Wisam ate the most amazing stirfried vegetables on the planet, pausing only to say, "This is so damn GOOD."

Day 4: Chaweng Beach or Little Thai Woman Kicks Arianne's A$$

2009-05-10T22:12:00.000-07:00

After a delicious breakfast (Michael complained that a customer said on TripAdvisor that the cook didn't know how to cook eggs, but I thought they were fine), we made our way to the white sands of Chaweng beach, apparently one of the top-rated in the world. We settled in for some Kindle reading and sunbathing with our mango fruitshakes. Yum! Arianne loved the crystal clear, warm waters. Very reminiscent of Destin, but without the rednecks.

After lunch, we decided to hit up one of the country's many many many spas for a massage. Wisam got the hot coconut oil massage, while Arianne insisted on the "Deep Thai," whatever that was. Apparently Arianne had at least a year's worth of built-up stress knots in her back, because a woman half her size took it upon herself to beat the crap out of them while she silently burst into quiet sobs, covering her mouth so Wisam couldn't hear her pain and think she was a wuss. All in all, totally worth the 800 baht ($20 USD).

We had dinner at 56, one of Bhoput's town restaurants, sampling pad thai and fresh vietnamese spring rolls. Arianne made the mistake of downing two "56 Cocktail"s, probably the equivalent of a seco limonada in Panama (rum, sugar cane and lime). Luckily she made it back to the Waterfront in time to pass out.

Click here for complete Thailand pics

Day 3: Dim Sum = Dim Joy! Or "Am I speaking too quickly for you?"

2009-05-09T22:00:00.000-07:00

Wisam dragged Arianne's lazy ass out of bed bright and early to hit up the hotel gym. Probably a good idea.

After finding our first choice restaurant closed - indefinitely, we wandered around until we found a lovely little dim sum place called Dim Joy, on Keong Seik Road in Chinatown. DELICIOUS. Especially the pork buns, pancake, and the custard buns.

We mastered the Singapore subway and visited the Thian Hock Keng "Temple of Heavenly Bliss," the oldest Buddhist temple in Singapore, built by sailors to pray to Ma Po Cho, goddess of the Heavenly sages. It was rebuilt in 1841 and is on Telok Ayer Road.

The Singapore National Museum was a favorite. In addition to the air con, we enjoyed a very cool Christian LaCroix exhibit of stage costumes, including Carmen and Othello. The Singapore historical exhibit was interesting and included a fun audio tour guide.

That evening, we took a flight to Koh Samui, Thailand. While waiting to board, Arianne checked the online news and noticed that Tokyo had just confirmed its first three cases of swine flu. The passengers on the flight with the infected Canadians would be detained in quarantine for the NEXT TEN DAYS. We would have likely suffered the same fate...BULLET. DODGED.

After some really disturbing turbulence over Malaysia, we landed safely at Koh Samui's beautiful open air airport, where we endured yet another health screening. This was becoming a pattern! The son of the owner of our hotel, The Waterfront at Bhoput, met us there and drove the 4km to our sweet little B&B. Arianne was glad Wisam could understand him, because between the cockney British accent and a slight stammer, she only got about 40% of the message. Michael, our overeager driver, proceeded to share with us on arrival, every meticulous detail of the room, including the new photograph on the wall and how the makeup mirror worked. We were tired and cranky but smiled politely. A favorite moment: when he paused and asked: "Am I speaking too quickly for you?" Arianne had to hide her chuckling. When he finally left, we settled in for a good night's sleep.

Complete Thailand Pics: http://picasaweb.google.com/Arianne.Graham/Thailand#

Day 2: Aporkalypse Now or "I had a thought..."

2009-05-08T21:52:00.000-07:00

The ANA flight to Singapore had a very cool cockpit cam, about which Arianne got extremely geeked out. She tried to entertain Wisam with random thoughts, musing every other minute: "So, I had a thought..." We decided that the much nicer plane, food, and fewer people with masks was a sign of our impending good travel karma, considering the adversity we had experienced thus far. Also, we were pretty impressed that we hadn't killed each other in the midst of our freakout. We even passed the thermal scan screening at the Singapore airport. So much more civilized.

Upon arrival, we finally located Arianne's suitcase (yay for clean clothes!) and headed to the swanky Swissotel Merchant Court in the Chinatown district.

We feasted upon curried vegetables, beef rendang, and chicken at the very chic Blue Ginger restaurant. We also enjoyed sectionmate Mogan's favorite, Tiger Beer.

After dinner, we hit up LongBar, a so-called hotspot at the ultra-luxe Raffles Hotel. DO NOT GO HERE. We were overcharged for pints of Tiger and were subjected the most hideous cover band I've ever heard, along with Americans doing some crazy, seizure-like dance...(ever seen Elaine on Seinfeld?)

Click here for complete Singapore Pics

Day 1: Or the Southeast Asia Extravaganza Kickoff

2009-05-07T21:30:00.000-07:00

Bags packed, immunizations received, and parents calmed, A&W left cold-ass Boston for Singapore, via Minneapolis/St. Paul (MSP) and Tokyo-Narita...all in all, uneventful.

We passed our five-plus hours in MSP chillin at Rock Bottom Brewery, stealing Sweet'n'Low from Starbucks for Wisam's insatiable coffee fit, witnessing victims of the recession try to relentlessly upsell everything at Brookstone (Wisam bought a highly enviable travel pillow and blankie. I recommend the slim travel speaker. We decided our Kindles are way more fab than the Sony e-reader!), making fun of Midwesterners (Man at newsstand taking my bottled water money: "Would you like a giant bag of peanuts today?" wtf?)

We also spent a ridiculous amount of time making off-color jokes about swine flu...this would prove fortuitous. Arianne (who, thinking ahead, stole some from the student health center) thought it would be funny to put on medical masks and take pictures in the airport. Indeed, many folks on our flight had them on all the way to Tokyo.

Upon arrival at Narita, the announcement is made that government authorities would board the plane with thermal scanners as a swine-flu precaution...even the flight attendants seemed surprised at this. Suddenly our jokes became less palatable. Japanese in hazmat suits walked by, scanning us and dismissing individual sections (which makes no sense, given the recycled air). A man two rows ahead of us was escorted off the plane in a hurry (!) by authorities, and those surrounding him, us included, were given red dot stickers (!) and masks and told to sit tight. Needless to say, we became quite unnerved! Still, jokes persisted - including many about the Toyota Production System and finding a way to pull the g@dd@#n andon cord!

All of a sudden, we were informed that we were free to go, after no further inspection and no added explanation. We realized we had missed our connection to Singapore, but this turned out to OK. NWA agents assured us that we were rebooked on the next day's flight and would be put up in a Tokyo hotel for the evening. After standing outside in the freezing rain, minus Arianne's bag (sad face), we defected from the group and took a rogue cab to the Radisson, where we dined with our new friend, Tim Allen (not THAT Tim Allen), a software consultant from our flight that insisted on buying us champagne to celebrate our upcoming graduation. Apparently not only HBS kids pop bottles...I've been in the bubble too long. We also met a "Main Street" woman that proceeded to tell us how Wall Street bankers and "poor people who couldn't afford the houses they were living in" had decimated her retirement fund. Ah, global financial crisis explained...

On the upside, we got to shower and get a little less frazzled before boarding another long-haul flight on ANA to Singapore the next day.

Click here for complete MSP/Tokyo Pics

Lyrical Whimsy: Or Everything I need to Know About Ari can be summed up by a James Morrison Song

2007-08-13T08:27:00.000-07:00

"Once you've had a taste there's no going back." - Under the influence

"You give me something that makes me scared alright...this could be nothing, but I'm willing to give it a try." - You give me something

"Sometimes I just feel so full of love/it just comes spilling out/ It's uncomfortable to see/ I give it away so easily." - Wonderful World

"I can't explain why it's not enough/Coz I gave it all to you/And if you leave me now/ Oh just leave me now/ It's the better thing to do." - The Pieces Don't Fit Anymore

"I've got one last chance to get myself together/I can't lose no more time it's now or never/ And I try to remember/who I used to be" - One last chance

"I'm not lost/Just undiscovered" - Undiscovered

"I can't forget her." - The letter

"I can't do nothing if I can't do something my way...call the police/coz I've lost control/and I really wanna see you bleed." - Call the police

"I'm still here/but it hasn't been easy/I'm sure that you had your reasons/I'm scared/Of all this emotion/For years I've been holding it down/I love to forgive and forget so I/try to put all this behind us just/know that my arms are wide open/ the older I get, the more that I know/ It's time to let this go." - This boy

"

Wait for the Beep: Or Why I Hate Customer Non-Service

2007-08-07T10:41:00.000-07:00

I think people on the other end of the customer service hotline hate talking to me as much as I hate waiting on hold to tell them my problem so they can fix it. Surely we can come to some sort of mutual agreement?

And whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy is it that I'm generally on hold for something my dad needs done? No comprendo.

Happy Trails to Me: Or Last Day at Work

2007-08-03T04:59:00.000-07:00

When I woke up this morning, it suddenly dawned on me that today would be my last day at work...for threeeeeeee years (okay, not counting summer internships). That seems like a long time, but I bet it will fly by so quickly.

I am quite sad at the thought of leaving my current position. I work in a hospital with a bunch of really great people, and they seem pretty bummed that I am leaving...maybe that's just because they haven't hired my replacement yet.

But I am also over-the-moon excited about all the new changes coming up in my life. Suddenly any door I want to enter could potentially swing open - and I just have to figure out where to start. Here goes nothing.

Well, maybe I'll take a little beach vacation first. :)

It's a Small World After All: Or Sangria Brings Out the Truth

2007-08-01T06:05:00.000-07:00

I am still reeling from the shocking encounter I had last night!

A few weeks ago, I went to an HBS happy hour in Buckhead to meet some alums and prospective students. One young lady, T, turned out to be a Gtown alum who was there when I was, but we didn't know each other. We swapped info and decided to meet up for drinks and tapas at Noche, one of my favorite places in Virginia Highlands. Well, after too many sangrias (for me) and some yummy dishes, the weirdest thing happened.

Last night, after we grew tired of discussing b-school applications and GMAT scores, T and I got onto the topic of growing up in Atlanta. She mentioned she went to Pace Academy. I said, "Oh! My ex went to Pace. Do you know O?" Well, not only did she know him, but her best friend, who also went to Pace, lives near him in another state and is still good friends with him. T even recalled hearing about "some girl up in DC" that O was dating. And there I was, sitting in front of her a year later! How extraordinary. The two of us could not get over the coincidence.

Straight out of the Twilight Zone, I tell ya...

It's about that time again: Or what I have done lately (Part II)

2007-07-30T11:23:00.000-07:00

It was bound to happen again, and hey, I like lists!

Recently I have:

Rented a U-Haul

Been on a roadtrip

Had trouble sleeping

Seen a funny movie with a good friend

Had a hissy fit

Hurt someone who loves me and begged for forgiveness

Been angry

Been jealous

Doubted my self-worth

Been humiliated and ignored and offended

Been cut off emotionally

Worrying and biting my nails

Been spending lots of time with Molly

Been spending lots of time with Charla

Seen Beyonce and Robin Thicke live in concert

Had too much to drink

Met a cadre of new people

Had butterflies in my stomach and alternately, that sinking feeling

Encountered a former coworker

Not been working out as much as I would like

Been trying to avoid social networking sites for my own well-being

Had a philosophical/political debate with my intellectual equal

Been tricked into a kiss, and I followed it up with a swift kick to the nads

Seriously considered the possibility that there is something wrong with my outlook on this whole love thing

Bought a laptop (er, had grandma gift one to me)

Said goodbye to a friend

Said goodbye to my favorite city, Washington, DC

Asked myself: "Is healthcare a right or a privilege?"

Wondered where the hell my money has gone

Completed four online courses required for registration in my MBA program, along with a lengthy checklist of "Honey-Do's"

Played along

Patronized someone

Wondered what the hell just happened

A long time ago, in a blogosphere far, far away: Or the Return of the Mack (the Mack being Ari, of course)

2007-07-29T07:12:00.000-07:00

The ostensible ego in me keeps drawing me back the blogosphere. Honestly, how long could I really go without talking/writing about myself? It's all just too predictable, if you ask me. Somehow, someway, I knew I'd be back...and you knew it, too.

Cliff notes: Let's recap the last year or so, shall we?

Summer comes and goes: When we last saw Ari, the healthcare practice at her ho-hum consulting job was falling apart at the seams. No, matter...it was summer, and lots of fun left to be had...including a few regular trips to Assateague Island. The best of the last few shining moments of what would be her last summer in Washington...for the forseeable future.

Professional props and pratfalls: The fall started off with a bang and a great surprise - a promotion and a long-term project in Atlanta! Ari became very excited about the prospect of seeing Moms and Pops more often and settled into a fairly cushy gig...or so she thought (to be continued)

Hoya Paranoia! The winter didn't seem too cold as the Hoyas fired up the basketball court, dominating the Big East and making their first appearance at the Final Four in a looong time! Ari didn't miss a moment as a first year season ticket holder...she even witnessed the best.weekend.ever with some fellow Hoyas in Atlanta for the tournament.

All is not lost! Poor, pitiful Ari (tongue firmly in cheek) was nearly sideswiped in March by some unexpected news: her company's practice wasn't doing so hot, so she got laid off! Not to worry, as always, Miss Ari landed on her feet and found a cool new position just a week later...but it could only get better from there...

So long, sucka!

When you wish upon a star: Unbeknownst to many (except a small, determined band of friends and family who greatly tired of hearing about it) during much of '06, Ari had been hatching a plan to leap from working to graduate school. After studying for the GMAT during the winter and working and re-working scores of essays and personal statements, Miss Ari learned her fate:

"Congratulations! On behalf of Harvard Business School, I am genuinely pleased to
offer you a place in the MBA Class of 2010."

"Congratulations! I am pleased to offer you admission to Harvard University ’s John F. Kennedy School of Government ..."

You've heard the saying that it takes a village to raise a child...well, it takes two cities, multiple prayers, countless friends and family members, and a lot of anti-anxiety medication to get Ari into Harvard! Seriously, though, anyone who has ever been through this process can attest that it is a loooong, sometimes lonely, journey of self-reflection, but I wouldn't change a thing if I had to do it all over again...except I wouldn't apply to so many schools, thus saving myself a few hundred dollars.

So, there it is: for the next three years, I will freezing my tookus off in Boston, studying both business and public policy (healthcare and international development are my focus areas). In 2010 I hope to graduate with two master's degrees and the inspiration to achieve pretty much anything I set my mind to do. I am still, four months after receiving those letters, overwhelmed, humbled, excited and terrified about this transformational experience. Just don't ask me what I want to do after I graduate...I can't even think that far ahead.

Summer 2007: All in all, it's been interesting. I've been working at a hospital with people I absolutely adore, living it up on a beach with new classmates while saying goodbye (for now) to old and dear friends, and just generally trying to mentally prepare myself for the next steps. As my parents and I can both attest: no 25-year-old should be living at home. I've definitely worn out my welcome, and I will probably have to write to the Vatican to ask that my parents be canonized for what they've had to put up with this year. They still love me and are proud of me and support me no matter how awful I've been...and for that, I owe them. Big time.

As for the blog, well, I expect this will become a place to capture my next life experiences for posterity and preservation. Hopefully I can keep up. You've been put on notice, blogosphere: The mack is back.

Gossip Folks: Or Why You Can't Keep a Secret

2006-08-14T16:50:00.000-07:00

So, today we had this big to-do over a conference call announcing the departure of two executives from our firm. No real warning, some people had suspected but not confirmed, etc etc etc.

Now, the manager officiating at said conference call says, just before adjourning, "You know how the rumor mill is here. Let's not substantiate or contribute to it." Or something to that effect. I didn't hear it all, I had to go pee.

Meanwhile, less than an hour later, what am I listening to? The girl in the next cubicle over recapping the story of the two executives...hmm, very interesting. You think this is bad? You should hear what they say when someone finds out two coworkers are sleeping together.

45 Calories and Counting: Or Why Coca-Cola Blak is the Shit, Yo!

2006-08-10T09:19:00.000-07:00

Alright, so I know I'm all late to jump on the bandwagon...but in all honesty, I was a little afraid to try it. Mixed reviews, crazy concept (uh, coke and coffee? get the eff outta here), whatever. Anyway, so I'm at a client site, bored outta my freakin mind, and I see it in the cafeteria. Gotta try it, right? Whoa...can I say love at first guzzle? I am a fan for life. You know what they say, once you go blak...

Ice Cube And Me: Or My Attempt to Rap

2006-07-28T09:07:00.000-07:00

It is finally Friday...hence my homage to Ice Cube, to the tune of "It Was a Good Day."

Just wakin up in the mornin, gotta thank God

Got my shortcomings but a nice lookin bod

Picked out a nice skirt, you'll like how I rock

It's summertime bitches, I don't need no sock

Free breakfast at the office and I eat all I can

Twenty-fo years old, still workin for The Man

Finally got a chance to go see Janelle

Gonna get my "herre did," no grease and no gel

She knows how I like it, real cute, a little sass

Just makin sure the dudes take a glance as I pass

Looked in my mirror and not a pimple in sight

And everything is alright

Got a text from ____, and he can *bleep* all night

It's just too bad I don't get down like that

Gotta get up early Saturday, lay down my yoga mat

Besides I got plans to see Miami Vice with the crew

What I'd do with Jamie Foxx, don'tcha wish you knew?

Later, you can get me on the dance floor and I'm scary

You can get with me if you're not too hairy

When it comes to a party, I just don't play

I believe it, today will be a good day (shit!)

JW Marriott, Silver Spring and McDonald's: Or the Good, the Bad and the Ugly

2006-07-27T23:00:00.000-07:00

Meg was in town for a wedding and made room for me in her schedule so we could catch up over Starbucks and chill in her luxe suite at the JW Marriott. I love that girl and always feel like everything is right with the world when I am near her.

I went on a match.com date...another one for the record books. After trucking my tired ass all the way out to Silver Spring, I had two drinks, some uninspiring conversation (though I do now know how crazy the sister of a complete stranger is...), and a ride to the Metro. He wants to see me again, of course. *SIGH*

The bright golden arches beckoned to me during my walk home, and I failed to resist stuffing my face with some McDonald's french fries. That's just ugly. This weekend should be much more interesting.

Summer of the Shoutout: Revolutionary Diva J

2006-07-25T13:39:00.000-07:00

Who else can you call on to go to a Kelly Clarkson concert, plan the overthrow of the white male power structure, drink lots of wine and cuss out your ex while destroying mementos ALL IN THE SAME NIGHT? In my mind, there is only J.

Vital Stats

Years of friendship: 3, give or take. The last year or so has been the most active.
Hometown: The Richmond area, VA
Prized possessions: A multitude of fashion accessories
Celebrity crush: Jake Gyllenhaal
How we met: Chopin Gal, who we ironically don't see much of these days. And we went to college together.
Where we've been: Destin, DC, Dur'm, Atlanta, Miami, Orlando, maybe Vegas...
Favorite memory with J: Too many to count. But I did just read her book, which is fabulous. It's heavy, y'all. Definitely not a good bedtime story.

Why I love J:

Her notable quotables: "Clearly," "Cank," "Slizzard," "Bitches", "Kushushu," "Fussin," etc.
She taught me that you should just march into any old place like you know what you're doing. 99% of the time, no one will question you, especially if you're tall like J.
She helped me plan the first and only Revolutionary Summit.
She knows a lot about Africa.
She invented "bucket punch."
She has a cute nephew who rocks rough and tough with his lopsided afro puff.
She helped me see the distinction between being crazy all over and just crazy about some things. AND why there are very few women cuter/better than me :)
She knows the words to all Michael Jackson songs and is always up for a night of dancing.

And there will be pics of her posted as soon as Blogger stops effing around. Ah, here we go:

Did You Really Need to Know That?: Why Facebook/MySpace/Friendster/Other can be bad for your health

2006-07-25T12:51:00.000-07:00

It's my own fault, really. I stumbled upon FaceBook in its infancy (when only snobby private schools were invited, before they started letting in the rif raff aka state universities. LOL), and being a senior in college with a secured job offer before fall semester exams, I clearly had NOTHING better to do with my time. You know it, FaceBook and all the other sites like it are just like online crack. There, I said it, you're no better than any Tyrone Biggums on the street looking for a hit.

There are several reasons, besides potential addiction, that you should steer clear of social networking sites:

You don't REALLY want to know about your ex-boyfriend/girlfriend's new main squeeze, let alone see the cheesy pics of them wearing t-shirts with each other's image on it. *sigh and shake head hopelessly*
Great - now the world knows you left your bra in his car.
Your grades, if you're still in school, will suffer.
Your boss, when he finds out you spend all day online, will fire you.
You too can become the victim/perp of statutory rape.
Worse, you can find half-naked pics of your little sister/cousin/babysitting charge online.
You will get mad at friends for missing out on important info - "OMG! I posted it on your wall, so why didn't you meet me for happy hour?"
You will feel the need to "add" people as friends just to avoid pissing them off.
You will become an "egocaster."
You will be exposed to terrible "music."

That being said, I am a an active and loyal member of the Facebook, MySpace, and though I seldom use it (read: never), the original Friendster. *SIGH*. Like I said, it's hopeless. Ooh, somebody tagged a new photo of me. Gotta go.

Beachy Keen: Or Ode to Assateague Island

2006-07-25T12:38:00.000-07:00

So if you know anything about me, you know that I love the beach. It doesn't really matter where on the planet said beach is located, you can count me in for a good time. Luckily, I have found in my good friend H a kindred soul that shares my love of all things sand-and-saltwater related. We headed out to Assateague Island, MD this weekend, and it was a blast as usual...even the occasional raindrops didn't stop our reckless cavorting. I'll post some picture highlights when stupid Blogger gets its shizz together and stops timing out :(

Summer of the Shoutout: Partner in Crime J

2006-06-11T14:31:00.000-07:00

Ugh, raging hangover...But as always, I have my good friend J to thank for a night of fun and frolic on the town.

Ladies and Gents, Meet J

Vital Stats :

Years of friendship: Almost 2

Hometown: St. Louie

Occupation: Sexpot and fashionista

Special talent: Bargain shopping (I'm taking notes)

How we met: How else? Abony

Favorite memory with J: The "Club AJ" Party (aka Sausagefest 2k5) in the Boom Boom Room

What's next: Who knows? According to J, "The summer is young..."

Why I love J:

She says things like: "Let's be honest. My ass is never going to look this good again."
She has impeccable fashion sense and a knack for accessorizing
She's always up for a bottle of Prosecco and dancing (hip hop, please!)
She doesn't mind if I say to the guy on the dance floor: "Actually, no, she doesn't want to dance with you."
A night out with J = No waiting at the velvet rope and VIP status
She introduces me to fun/interesting people
She knows what she's worth and has no time for men who can't recognize that.
She can turn my day from zero to awesome in 5.2 seconds flat.
She's generous with compliments ("Ari, you look RETRO hot!")
Her dad went to HBS (clearly we were meant to be friends. LOL)

Summer of the Shoutout: Best Friend M

2006-06-09T07:57:00.000-07:00

I know for sure that I am two things: easily bored and blessed with many good friends. So, without further ado, I think you should know a little bit about my peeps, starting with the end-all-be-all of best girlfriends:

Ladies and gents, meet M

Vital Stats

Years of Friendship: 10 and counting...

Hometown: ATL

Prized Possessions: iPod Nano and VW bug convertible (so hawt!)

Celebrity Crush: Dr. Phil

Secret (or not-so-secret) obsession: Starbucks

Special talent: Giving people nicknames (my personal faves: Chubs, R-Head, French Wanker, Happy Bastard, and Doobie)

How we met: 9th grade homeroom. It was just downhill from there. We always got in trouble for talking during the afternoon announcements.

Where we've gone together: Destin, Zurich, Greece, and next year - Australia!

What's next: Being bridesmaids in E's wedding. Sounds like trouble...

Favorite memory with M: Dancing at my parents' 50th birthday party

Big plans: M and I are retiring to a beach house eventually...haven't decided yet if our husbands/boyfriends/lovers/cabana-boys are invited.

Why I love M

She puts up with me, which is not always easy to do
She doesn't mind if I drunk dial her or complain about man problems
She has big dreams and a bigger heart
She loves animals
She has an awesome family
She makes me laugh and kick my feet
She misses me when I'm gone
She has grown so much in the time I have known her
She will look at this post and say, "R, thanks for the shoutout...but couldn't you have picked a different photo of me?"

Graceful Ari is the Shizz: Or a List of My More Auspicious Accomplishments

2006-06-05T16:18:00.000-07:00

Just because I felt like reflecting...I have:

Moved recently
Joined match.com (it's really not as psycho as you think)
Sunbathed on the beach while secretly hoping for more than five minutes that I would sink into the sand and never reappear
Considered a serious life change
Postponed said life change in favor of manipulating the system for a bit longer and "milk it" for all its worth
Watched way too much tv and pondered whether it really rots your brain
Sighed with happiness
Wanted to rip someone's eyes out of their head
Driven through farmland
Googled a crush...several times
Drunk way too much Starbucks coffee
Started reading a ridiculously long and academic-type book...for fun
Wanted to fly
Run for my life
Cried to my mom on the phone
Rolled my eyes at someone else's idiocy
Danced in my bedroom
Been serenaded by guitar in the woods (very romantique!)
Told my best friend I love her
Walked to the metro station
Had eye sex with a stranger
Taken a friend with benefits that is "bad for my soul" (but I told him so first)
Watched my brother graduate from high school and known that I was happier for him than he has been/will ever be for me
Seen every current movie in the theatre that I had a desire to see
Cheated the system
Watched a grown man cry...and felt inexpressable joy that he shared that with me
Been dumped...twice...and counting...
Seriously considered that I may be single for the rest of my life
Overeaten
Obssessed about my weight
Called a boy one too many times
Bought many things I did not need
Fantasized regularly
Blushed and laughed
Been called "genuine"
Sung at the top of my lungs
Seen a photograph and pondered the story behind it
Prayed
Passed a homeless person without ignoring him but lied about having money to give him
Felt ashamed of my country's leaders
Not resolved my anger over Hurricane Katrina
Cried because not everyone has access to quality healthcare
Too many pairs of shoes
Drunken Prosecco with a good friend
Watched two of my best friends make out with each other
Canceled one gym membership to join another
Lost touch with loved ones
Called an old friend
Networked my ass off
Not let go of a number of girlish crushes
Been to Greece and thought that the Aegean Sea looks like blue raspberry Jello
Argued with my parents
Considered that writing may be my true calling (and no, I don't really care for your opinion on that)
A serious addiction to Pinkisthenewblog.com
Decided that the birth of a celebrity baby does not qualify as "breaking news" suitable for distribution on a certain reputable 24-hour cable news network.
Managed to find something wrong with all MBA programs except Harvard's
Made my parents proud
Not learned to cook enough
Stopped to smell the roses (I'm not kidding. My neighbors have the most beautiful bushes...)
Asked for forgiveness
Worked really hard
Exceeded my monthly cell phone minutes
Felt lonely...often
Not been kissed nearly enough
Learned to love me just as I am

That was cathartic. I'll probably make another list every once in a while.

My New Job: Or Spitting Out Spreadsheets

2006-03-21T11:36:00.000-08:00

No, I didn't quit my job. I am, however, traveling again to hospitals and doing performance improvement consulting. So, the experience is necessarily like starting a completely new profession.

To put it succinctly, I love it. This is really the first time that I have ever felt challenged by (or even interested in) my work. My managers (I'm still figuring out why) give me a ton of responsibility and want to teach me something new at every given turn. I love it, love it, love it.

I never considered myself a datahead. Dataheads are geeky, snarky, socially awkward...right? Wrong. The dataheads in this particular area of my company are some of the most fun people you'll ever come to know. Shocking but true. They're really good at what they do, and also very entertaining. Where was I? Oh, yea, I'm no datahead. In fact, just the opposite. If I could find a profession that allows me to talk to people all day long, well, I'd be the best...whatever that profession is...you could possibly be. This current position is something else. Your best friend is a laptop, so you better snuggle down with that hard drive and get nice and acquainted. Formulas are your language of love and spreadsheets the fruit of your, um, er, nevermind. So anyway, I get to talk with the client every day, but in theory I could accomplish my whole tasklist using e-mail, Access and Excel.

My teammates and managers are all older than me: married, grown kids, graduate-degree-and-tons-of-healthcare-experience types, but they keep me in stitches. Who knew an ER doctor accidentally leaving a sponge inside the patient could be hilarious? Aw, come on: a little toxic shock never hurt anybody...except the patient. A sense of humor is a must in this biznass.

Love and Basketball: Or the Weirdest Fucking Sunday Night I've Had in a While

2006-03-20T13:50:00.000-08:00

Today is a new day.

How retarded is it that it took an unfortunate event, a minor catastrophe (trivial to the rest of the world, significant to me) in my life, to make me start blogging again.

So, yea, some shit went down last night. Your girl Ari was none too pretty and none too happy. I don't even think I will discuss it in this forum: 1) out of respect, 2) because I haven't really processed it at all. That will take more than a while. There are way too many X factors...

Anyway, this shit to which I allude went down on Sunday evening at the most auspicious of times. I was in limbo, in a good mood and also tired and also anxious to receive some news. Nevertheless, I was making the best out of it:
1) Eating Orange Chicken from Mr. Chen's Organic Cuisine (see www.campusfood.com)
2) Watching my Georgetown Hoyas DOMINATE the Buckeye Bitches;
3) Gearing up for another online test prep class with the secure knowledge that my score keeps improving, which is nice.

THEN. IT. HAPPENED.

Everything became so schizo...there I was, bawling my eyes out and certain that the world (or at least mine) would end at any moment, screaming bloody murder...but the sun was shining. And the Hoyas were winning on TV. And the world continued to be as joyous as I had found it 24 hours earlier, and I could see and recognize all of this in the midst of my misery.

Why? I have no idea, but I felt like I was having an out-of-body-experience. I highly recommend it, but I hope you never have to feel the sting of pain I did to get there.

In any case, I don't know if anyone out there is still reading, but in some capacity, I'm back. I've been cheating on you, dear blog, but I pledge to repent and be faithful once again.

It's Been So Long: Or How Hoyas Crush Blue Devils

2006-01-24T12:59:00.000-08:00

Really...what else can you say about that?

Mum's the Word: Or What Happens in _ Stays in _!

2005-10-25T12:16:00.000-07:00

Sorry I haven't blogged in a while.

It's not that I have been busy.
Or bored.
Or uninteresting.

Indeed, quite the contrary. But knowing my luck, the person(s) I really have the urge to blog about would find out...and the consequences could be disastrous.

So that's all I have to say about that.

Stir Crazy: Or How to Entertain Yourself on a Rainy Day

2005-10-12T07:46:00.000-07:00

In light of the current weather and previous blog entries, I submit to you the top ten ways to entertain yourself on a gloomy autumn day:

10. Make up a new vocabulary of verbs using various body parts.

9. Tackle the internal conflict generated by your fervent feminism and your love of hip-hop music.

8. Throw a sophisticated houseparty.

7. Listen to some Awesome Aussies make fun of silly, MTV-Spring-Break-type American kids.

6. Get blazed with a seminary student.

5. Count your blessings that you don't travel for work (or count your frequent flyer miles, your choice).

4. Go to the gym and get swole!

3. Look through old pictures.

2. Jump up and down in an elevator.

And the number one way to entertain yourself on a rainy fall evening:

1. Count the she-males on 18th Street in Adams Morgan!

Bally Total Fitness: Or How To Sell Your Soul to a Gym

2005-10-05T15:21:00.000-07:00

I suppose that's what I get for being bored one day. P convinced me, while at work, to sign up for a free two-week trial membership at Bally Total Fitness. I think she just wanted some motivation to go herself, and having a workout buddy can do that to you...and how.

So here I am, only one week into the two-week trial, and I've gone to the gym every day. Something about it just sucks you in. There's hard body hotties, and girls in cute exercise gear, there's even a flipping juice bar.

Somehow my psyche has been altered, and Bally Total Fitness has become like crack cocaine to me: Must do CardioFlex on Monday, must make it to Spinning Class on Tuesday, KwandoFlex on Wednesday, more Spinning on Thursday, lift on Friday. Forget about resting on Saturday and Sunday...you've just gotten started.

My eyelids are heavy, my back hurts, my ankles are swollen, I can't feel other parts of my body, and sometimes moving about can be agonizing. So guess where I'm going this afternoon? That's right: Bally Total Fitness.

I give up...and relinquish all control to The Bally.

World of Warcraft: Or Too Much Free Time

2005-10-04T13:45:00.000-07:00

So I was talking to a friend online today and we started discussing the different things we do to pass the time at work (work not being one of those things, interestingly enough). My friend told me that he had been sucked into the "world of warcraft," and I'm thinking, okay, he's obssessed with planes and aircraft carriers...whatever floats your boat.

Oh, no. It's better than that, he explained. "World of Warcraft" is a MMORPG, or Massive Multiplayer Online Roleplaying Game (read: Super Dorkfest...disclaimer: I can say that because I'm the biggest dork of all). Apparently the whole world knows about it, except for me. So, for those of you NOT in the loop: Here's the gist...

The storyline is based on the Warcraft game series (again, drawing a blank here). So anyway, you can create your own characters from eight races and nine classes, but the main objective is to align yourself with a certain faction: the Horde or the Alliance. From there, your "team" (as it were) I guess strategizes and works together to defeat the other faction. You may laugh and think, "Who the hell has time to do that?", but worldwide about 3 to 4 million people are playing this RPG.

What fascinates me most is that the people who are playing are most likely highly educated adults. Think about it...kids are in school most of the day, though they may play a bit at night, college students are probably another faction because they have flexible schedules, and people who do not have higher degrees may often have a job that does not necessitate the use of a computer.

You know what that means...governments and multinational corporations are PAYING people to sit in front of a computer all day, avoid doing real work and escape to a fantasyland of elves, orcs, trolls, warlocks and warriors. Plus, think of those faction names: The Horde, the Alliance. Good gravy! We're teaching people how to be subversive and rebel against injustice and oppressive authorities! Gotta love it. If pissing away your day playing Warcraft isn't a clever way of sticking it to THE MAN, I don't know what is.

Thank you, Warcraft players. I salute you for your contribution to the Revolution.

Hump Day Eve: Or Going Back to College

2005-09-28T13:01:00.000-07:00

Somehow I knew it was probably a bad idea when I got off the GUTS bus. But S had called me to say hi and see if I would be on campus. I hadn't seen her in a while and thought it would be nice to catch up. Granted, I do live live just a 5-minute walk away from my old stomping grounds at Georgetown University, but actually hanging out on campus is a different experience altogether. There's something familiar and oddly comforting about being there, but at the same time, as I get older, and the familiar faces are fewer and farther between, I feel out of place and uneasy. Nevertheless, I stopped by S's apartment just to chat for a few minutes, but I ended up staying for about 4 hours.

By the way, S has lovely roommates. I wish I'd had that kind of living situation during college. On a random Tuesday night, they were gathered around the kitchen table, gossiping and drinking (Korbel champagne and scotch on the rocks...classy!), smoking hookah, listening to music (house, "Golddigger" and "Shake it Off"), and generally just enjoying each other's company, and for a brief while, I was a part of it...and that was not mildly uncomfortable.

Then...the boys showed up. They arrived, like Santa Claus on the evening of December 24, bearing gifts of Busch Light and ping pong balls and announcing the weekly holiday, "Hump Day Eve" (i.e. the day before Hump Day, Wednesday...hey, some people don't know...). When they busted out the beer pong table, suddenly I had a single thought: I am way too old for this shit.

Final verdict: I miss college and chilling with girlfriends. I don't miss immature boys and drinking games.

Congrats, Erin and Jon: Or "Another One Bites the Dust"

2005-09-28T01:07:00.000-07:00

My good high school friend Erin recently announced her engagement to her boyfriend of several years, Jon. I am extremely happy for her and eager to know where I can find a man who worships the ground I walk on (as Jon seems to for her). I haven't met Jon yet, but I have heard lots of wonderful things, and I will be glad to know him finally.

This will be, I know, a marriage that will stand the test of time. Plus they'll have really cute kids! Furthermore, this will be a wedding ceremony at which I will inevitably cause some trouble. Drunken wedding guests only make the party more fun, right? Anyway, Erin is the first of my closest friends to prepare for a trip down the aisle, and I have suddenly realized: I AM GETTING VERY OLD.

Here's to Erin and Jon! :)

Keepin it Real: Or My Definition of Friendship

2005-09-27T10:07:00.000-07:00

I fucked up. There it is. Plain as day. She knows what I did and that I'm sorry. She already forgave me for it. That's because she's my best friend.

A best friend:

Calls you on ALL of your bullshit.
Forgives you before you've said I'm sorry.
Holds you to a higher standard.
Doesn't keep track of who did what nice thing for whom, or if those nice things are equal.
Thinks of you always, no matter the occasion.
Keeps it real. Honesty hurts but it's better than sugarcoating the truth.
Never stops loving you.

Club AJ: Or Two Hot Chicks Throw a Party

2005-09-18T09:48:00.000-07:00

AJ Productions, Inc. Proudly Presents
"SausageFest 2K5"

"Two thumbs way up!"

"I laughed, I cried. It was better than AK's housewarming!"

"A stunning first outing by fresh new talent!"

"The jungle juice runneth over..."

"Who wants to be DD?"

"For every drunken party guest, there are two hot hostesses responsible."

"How do I get invited to the next one?"

Thanks for coming out, kids. We hope you had a great time. We really enjoyed having you there.

Girlfight: Or Prof-on-Prof Violence

2005-09-16T16:56:00.000-07:00

Fuck what ya heard...Georgetown University streets are tough, and only the strong survive, homie...

http://www.thehoya.com/news/091605/news1.cfm

Professor Accused in Campus Assault By Moises MendozaHoya Staff Writer Friday, September 16, 2005; Page A1

A Georgetown professor allegedly hit a State Department worker outside Lauinger Library last Thursday, prompting the woman to bite him and the professor's wife to call her a "cannibal."
According to police accounts, Ibrahim Oweiss, a School of Foreign Service-Qatar economics professor, hit Michelina Bonnano in her face with a closed fist while she sat inside her car Sept. 10. A Metropolitan Police Department incident report said that Bonnano, a former Georgetown professor and a current employee of the State Department, responded to the alleged assault by biting his right hand.
Bonnano said Thursday that she was packing items into her parked car near Lauinger when she saw Oweiss and his wife, Georgetown French professor Celine Oweiss, running toward her. Bonnano said she got into her car and rolled her window down at which point Ibrahim Oweiss started grabbing the identification card around her neck.
"He started grabbing at my ID and pulling it and he just punched me in my face and knocked off my glasses," she said. "He grabbed me and wouldn't let go and I bit him to get him away from me."
A Georgetown student had to pull Oweiss off Bonnano, she said. She added that she reported the assault to several passing Department of Public Safety officers who took a report.
Ibrahim Oweiss could not be reached for comment Thursday because he was in Qatar but his wife insisted that he had not struck Bonnano and that Bonnano had bit him without provocation.
"We have cannibals on campus," she said. "Her car and another car were blocking the little hole leading to the library. It was urgent for us to leave and we had waited a long time."
Celine Oweiss said that her husband was only trying to look at Bonnano's Georgetown ID tag hanging around her neck when she bit him.
"He did not hit her and she has no signs of attack or anything. This is like Mike Tyson biting the ear of his adversary. It's incredible the aggressiveness we witnessed," Celine Oweiss said.
The MPD incident report said that Ibrahim Oweiss had a cut on his hand and that Bonnano suffered a cut and bruising above her left eye. Both were taken by GERMS to Georgetown University Medical Center and released, the report said.
Ibrahim Oweiss was not arrested, but both Celine Oweiss and Bonnano said that they are contemplating taking legal action.

Hoya Staff Writer Alex Schank contributed to this report.

Takin it Back to the Old School: Or a Trip Down Memory Lane

2005-09-13T08:06:00.000-07:00

Okay, you ever go through your pictures and just laugh your ass off? Or just smile and remember? Well, these pics do it for me.

Why put this together? Because I was bored and needed a laugh...
For your enjoyment, some of my favorite weird photo ops...

This is my mom. Clearly I learned to doublefist from her. I did not, however, inherit her high tolerance for the spirits.

Case in point: During the summer of 2003, I studied abroad at Oxford University. Here's me during a "wine party." (As Greg would say, welcome to the Bad Idea Club).

Here I am approximately 10 minutes after that first picture, with Liz, JR, Clare and Hemali. After that, I puked in the rose bushes outside in that beautiful courtyard and passed out in my bed by 8:45 PM while everyone else went out partying.

But Oxford wasn't all about drinking...we had some good sober times. Here are two of my very favorite people at Oxford: Kevin and Liz. Kevin's the sweetest, most considerate person you'll ever meet. Liz is an awesome cook, baker and knows more about music than anyone. They made it an unforgettable experience. That guy in the back is nice, too, but I forgot his name. Don't hate me, random guy!

Also, during a trip to Stratford (Shakespeare's birthplace), I dominated John in a DDR battle (Dance Dance Revolution, for you non-nerds).

The last few days at Oxford were to be spent studying for final exams...clearly we studied very hard...Here's my roommate Kelly jumping on the couch in our suite after a card game outside on the lawn.

Here's Arianne nude on the beach in Barcelona...GOTCHA! It's just a strapless swimsuit.

No, that's not a boy. She's one of my dearest friends, Janice. And she thought it would be wild and adventurous to chop off her long beautiful hair before senior year. Bad idea club! I was furious with her and vowed not to let her live it down...so I post the picture online for the world to see. *Sigh*

Also in the summer of 2003, I attended the Summer Venture in Management at Harvard Business School. Or as I call it, Haaaaaahvahd. There I met Ron. He's one of the neatest people I've ever met, and is better at "staying in touch" than anyone. I can count on a phone call or e-mail from Ron at least once a month. Unfortunately, while drinking and talking, he accidentally spit in my eye...hence the weird look on my face.

One highlight of SVMP was the pajama Jammy Jam. Here Alex breaks it down for the ladies...

All in all, a great program. I met a lot of great young people, learned a lot about HBS, and saw some hotspots in Beantown. Who knows, maybe I'll return to Haaaahhhvahd for grad school.

Senior year started out with a bang, to be sure. Here's yet another jam-packed house party at 3616 N St., a Georgetown University townhouse. I'm not kidding when I say the WALLS were sweating...

Here's my derivatives class buddy, Jerry. He happened to catch me before a night on the town. A couple girlfriends and I went to Dream for a Democratic National Convention event starring Bill Clinton. Hehe. It was supposed to raise funds for the 2004 election, but we all know how that turned out...

...Anyway, I think Jerry's adorable. I think he's some kind of secret agent now, so we lost touch, and I miss him. Hope you're doing well, buddy!

Ah, sweet sweet Megan. To this day, she is one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen up close. Granted, this isn't the best picture, but it is my favorite. Megan was doing a striptease for our cab driver on the way back from happy hour. Gotta love it.

Megs is now seeking fame in fortune in Hollywood. Look out, world!

One night I ditched Jerry and derivatives class to go to a lounge called Home. So I wasn't lying to the professor when I said I needed to go home...Here's my cousin Charla and I with some of her coworkers...there's nothing particularly scandalous about this photo until you check out the drunk chick on the floor. She's not posing, she FELL that way. As my friends would say, "Don't be that girl!"

Oh, my dear dear Jason...he was mad I didn't want to dance with him. So he gave me an unsolicited lap dance at Bohemian Caverns. Why yes, he is crushing me and true, it is hard to breathe that way. But we had a good night anyway.

The things we do for the sake of "droppin it like it's hot..."

For the second year in a row, I attended the Business Today International Conference in New York City in 2003. This annual event gathers 200 overachieving college students from around the world to meet with top business executives and kiss ass like it's a full-time job. They should actually call it the Drinking Today International Kiss-Ass Festival. Seriously, it's a great experience and I highly recommend it.

That year, I met Adrienne, a quiet, sweet girl from Kansas...yea, right! Once we hit the bars, Adrienne was anything but quiet! I think in this picture she's saying, "Shhh...Arianne, don't ever tell anyone you ever saw me like this..." Too late. Anyway, Adrienne's da bomb and has come to visit me twice in DC. She makes me wanna yell, "Yo, Adrienne!"

Here is another Biz Today guy...actually I met Kevin the year before at the conference, but he stopped by to say hello.

Here is what I like about Kevin: He is awesome at schmoozing. He knows everybody and will talk to anybody. He (he'll prob correct me if I get this wrong) worked for Bad Boy/BMG, then for Arista, and now works for the new online crack-cocaine: thefacebook.com ! He owns a night club in Cancun and sends me pictures of him with celebs like 50 Cent and Paris Hilton.

My favorite Kevin quote: "I hung out with Puff Daddy...Puff Daddy is the whitest black man I have ever met."

This is Buck. Don't make fun of his name; he's gonna be a senator one day. And frankly, it fits him well (Buck, I mean that in a very serious and positive way). As my fellow RA senior year, we spent countless hours bashing our hall director and generally musing about other useless topics. He came with us to Dream on the night of my birthday party, which I appreciated, and showed us all his awesome dance moves.

Plus, Buck has hot friends from his former life...*wink*...

Here's Lindsey shortly before graduation playing with my camera. Don't you think she should be a model?

During Senior Week (week before graduation), we had a Trucker Party (classy...). Anyway, Teesha and Fatty break it down on the dance floor..

o, after graduation, I had some time to party...my parents had a joint 50th birthday party down in Destin, FL, and basically 100+ black people descended on the Sandestin resort for a crazy good time (doesn't happen often there).

Pictured here is a family friend, Kevin (he was my "boyfriend" when we were like 10). No, he is not touching my boob, but I thought it was a funny pic anyway. There's Molly on the left!

I love this picture. Molly and I got drunk in Destin during my parents' party and got to playing Spit (some lame people call it Speed). Anyway, Molly is a Spit champion, and, maybe it was the Smirnoff, but I beat her that night. I rule.

She got all pissed and started throwing things. It was, in a word, hilarious.

Okay, there's really nothing funny or interesting about this pic, but I like it.

After all, September is Shameless Promotion Month. So why not promote yourself?

Okay, so after some summer fun, I started this job where they pay me a lot of money to do very little work. I highly recommend it. To boot, I met a lot of really nice people to who like to have fun.

One of my favorites is fellow blogger DC Cookie and her constant partner in crime.

Through one of my coworkers I met Osie, the hottie on the right. In the Deep Dark South, they call him Tres.

Thus began what he calls a "loose affiliation." Anyway, he's hot and silly and sweet, and that's all I have to say about that.

So, at this new job, I did what I do best...plan social events. I even got involved in planning the traditional office Christmas party. I brought Osie as my date, and we dressed up as Bonnie and Clyde.

I look so DANGEROUS!

And last, but not least, this is my little brother Max. Okay, not really...but it's an awesome picture of a crazy kid anyway.

Here is my real brother, who has the whole 9th grade girls basketball team on lock...not to mention some models and college freshmen...where do you think he learned his pimpin skills?

Tempted to Touch: Or My Weird Encounters with Men

2005-09-12T07:58:00.000-07:00

Hi, it's me again...

So, I've been thinking (scary, I know), and recent events have led me to some conclusions regarding Ari vs. The Male Species. Here is what I hold to be true:

Men find me unapproachable. Inevitably I will encounter a handsome manboy at school/work/bar/party/church, he will unabashedly stare at me, eye-fuck me, mentally undress me...and never say a word to me. I have had to become quite courageous in going up to men first (at least the ones I am attracted to, unattractive men have no qualms about seeking me out first) and beginning a conversation. At some point, said manboy will quip, "Wow, I'm impressed you came and talked to me. I was a little intimidated by you." I am still baffled as to whether I should take that statement as a compliment or criticism. Do I look constantly pissed off? Do I look like I would never acknowledge your presence if you spoke to me? (Well, truth be told I may ignore you if you a) look psychotic or b) approach me with some crass comment about the ungodly things you would do to my body) Clearly I'm attractive, but not stunningly gorgeous in my opinion...I like to think of my beauty as a sneak-up-behind-you type and very unassuming. Haha...But let's get back to the point. For whatever reason, men are intimidated by what they perceive me to be. My friends often call me their "most self-confident" companion, and that is true to some extent, but as my best friend M will attest, when it comes to boys/men/dating/sex, I can be downright terrified and highly self-critical. It really makes no sense at all. Men see a self-assured, beautiful popular woman; but oh, if they knew the dorky nerd girl that resides inside.
I must confuse men, because they deeply confuse me. Here's an all-too-often pattern in my love life: Boy meets Ari, boy get's Ari's number, boy calls Ari and asks her out, Ari accepts, Boy and Ari start hanging out on a semi-regular basis. To Ari's delight, Boy expresses an interest in continuing to see her. Ari agrees and everything seems to be going well. One day, Boy stops calling and does not return phone calls or e-mails. Boy apparently falls off face of Earth. Come on...I could understand if this happened once or twice, but really...this shit is bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S. The first couple times I thought, okay, he's just a flake. But now, there is clearly something wrong with ME. Anybody out there got any ideas, do let me know.
I have no "type." I guess that would make me slutty, but I don't hook up with guys a lot. More likely it just makes me boy crazy. I am attracted to/can find something attractive about pretty much any man I see. Any race, religion, height, weight, etc...I can name a few guys I've tried to nab. Is this really a sign I'm as open-minded as I purport myself to be...or do I just have low standards? Haha...

Stay tuned, kids...I predict my love/hate relationship with the Y chromosome will only become more interesting with time.

The Stiff-Meister: Or Why I love my roommate...

2005-09-06T18:07:00.000-07:00

No, not like that...but D and his friend Wouiza came up with a hella funny list based on Stifler-isms (You know, American Pie dude) after we cracked outselves up saying "Hang out with my wang out." So without further ado, for your reading pleasure, you could:

You could:
Rock out with your cock out
Pass out with your ass out
Hang out with your wang out
Sit out with your tit out
Rest out with your breast out
Jump out with your rump out
Wuss out with your puss out
Stick out with your dick out
Sneak out with your cheek out
Fake out with your snake out
Skip out with your nip out
Fall out with your ball out
Watch out with your chatch out
Shoot out with your coot out
Black out with your crack out
Go out with your camel toe out
Get laughed out with your shaft out
Rot out with your twat out
Tune out with your poon out
Hunt out with your cunt out
Stole out with your pole out
Blows out with your hose out
Pound out with your mound out
Cool out with your tool out
Trips/Flips out with your lips out
Bugs out with your jugs out
Leave out with your beav out
Rocks out with your box out
Eat out with your teat out
Run out with a bun out
Shut out with your nut out
Weird out with your beard out
Dork out with your pork out
Pork out with your dork out
Grump out with your rump out
Crunk out with your junk out (courtesy of DC Cookie)

We're taking more suggestions, people... :)

I take back everything bad I said about Kanye West

2005-09-05T08:13:00.000-07:00

Anyone who ain't scurred to rip Bush a new one on live tv can have my $16.99 for an album sale.

http://http://media.putfile.com/Kanye79

Hurricane Katrina vs. The Grahams: Or Why My Family Kicks Ass

2005-09-03T10:03:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I know this blog is generally supposed to be about the crazy things that happen to me and me alone...but that mantra seems a tad bit self-absorbed and self-centered at this particular moment.

Besides, I would definitely call Hurricane Katrina a Series of Unfortunate Events, much like my blog.

Just in case you've been living under a rock for the last week, i am indeed referring to a devastating hurricane that ruined much of the beautiful Gulf Coast, one of my favorite regions of America, despite being part of the deepest, darkest bass-ackward South.

For me, Hurricane Katrina became very personal very quickly. Originally, all of my folks come from Louisiana. My dad's side still has reunions in the state. My mom and her three sisters were born and raised in New Orleans, and much of their side of the family lives there, including my mother's parents, my maternal grandparents. Shirley and Joe are now 80 years old, and while dear old grandpa is alive and kicking in spite of a 66 year love affair with tobacco, Grandma Shirley is in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's Disease, and her frail 70 lb body has begun to deteriorate. Needless to say, evacuating her in preparation for a hurricane was not really an option.

Prior to the storm, my mom made sure Grandpa Joe had made adequate preparations with plenty of food and water. As Sunday night began to fall, however, and mandatory evacuations were ordered, I became increasingly concerned for their safety. Monday morning dawned, and it seemed the worst was over. Parts of Louisiana and Mississippi were devastated, but I happily learned my grandparents were safe at home in New Orleans.

Then the unthinkable happened...well, clearly it was not unthinkable, as many experts apparently foresaw a disaster of this magnitude. The levees protecting this below sea-level city (whose dumb idea was THAT?) from the ocean and Lake Ponchartrain failed the citizens of New Orleans, and the floodwaters rushed in. When we didn't hear from Grandpa Joe, we resigned ourselves to the worst. They probably did not make it out of their house alive. But a miracle occured. This is my grandparents' harrowing story as I know it to have happened:

Grandpa Joe said the flood had reached his knees by the time he knew he had to get out of the house. He opened the door to a few neighbors that helped him get grandma to a local high school with 300 other citizens. Later he would tell me that the last thing he saw as he left the house was a picture of myself and him at my graduation ceremony from Georgetown University. It broke my heart. At the high school, they had no food, water or working toilets. By grace and grace alone, my grandpa's cell phone found a signal and he called my mother, who happened to be near the phone in Atlanta. He told her of their conditions, and my father (amazing man, really) started a phone and e-mail chain that touched thousands. We were able to finally get through to CNN, Fox News, FEMA and the U.S. Coast Guard about my grandparents' whereabouts. We still do not know who rescued them from that place. After leaving the high school, the evacuees were dropped off at an onramp to Interstate 10. There they were told to walk about 3 miles to the Convention Center or the Superdome to await buses. Grandpa could not push Grandma that far in her wheelchair, so they waited along the highway with about 100 others. They slept on the concrete of a major interstate for several nights. He said that buses "full of white people" passed him by without stopping, and that conditions deteriorated to the point that he believed "they" (law enforcement forces) were "out exterminating black people" in the street (say what you want about the racial implications of this tragedy, but the simple fact of the matter is this: my grandpa was there, he lived it, you didn't, so shut the hell up. Oh yea, and the "looters" that stole groceries from stores, well they were the ones who probably kept my family alive with their stolen goods. But yea, there's really no excuse for stealing TVs and tennish shoes...). At some point on Friday we got two voice mail messages: one from a woman named Pam who had been with my grandparents at the high school and was calling from Baton Rouge. The other was a National Guardsman with a thick Southern accent, saying, "Dr. Graham, I met your father-in-law, Joe Gaspard. He wanted me to call and tell you he's okay, and to come and get him." Later that same evening, we finally received a phone call from Grandpa Joe in Eunice, LA. He and grandma had been evacuated to a tiny Baptist church in the middle of nowhere. My parents hopped in the car, drove all the way to Louisiana and back in 21 hours. Thank God. My grandparents are now safe in Atlanta.

Needless to say, it was the longest week of my life. I didn't realize how much I really do love my family until I almost lost them. As I said in an e-mail to family and friends, all the anger I had felt over the past week had dissipated. I was angry at my grandparents for not leaving the city in the first place, angry at FEMA and the Bush administration for being incompetent as usual, angry at the crackheads shooting at rescue helicopters, angry at the racist and classist talking heads all over the country that have no clue about the day-to-day life of our nation's poorest citizens, angry at the media for making me sick with worry, the list went on and on.

All of a sudden, the things I worried and obssessed over seem so minute. My job, my love life, my money...bullshit. All of it. I have life, I have health, I have family, I have faith. I am so utterly blessed, and I don't deserve any of it. I do, however, have a new and unrelenting desire to expose evil in all of its forms; be it the Bush administration, government bureaucracy in general, racism, classism and all the other "ism's"...Look out, world, you just got yourself a new champion of justice.

I'll say it one more time: If you don't believe in miracles because you've never witnessed one, then just take one look at my family's nightmare-turned-reunion. If you still don't believe after that, then I feel sorry for you. I am happy to report that the heavens are not closed and the earnest prayers of the faithful are still answered by a merciful and loving God. I only hope that the life I live will be a testament to these statements being true.

Alrighty, I'll get off my high horse now. Just thought I'd share...

Supeer Sweet Sixteen: Or a Tale of the Sloppy, Snobby Sophie-Bitch

2005-08-15T23:27:00.000-07:00

She looks mildly retarded, if you ask me. But this is Sophia, star of the premiere of quite possibly the most insipid MTV reality show yet: My Super Sweet Sixteen. But I know what you're thinking, and yes, I know: Ari had to have watched the show to deem it insipid. Guilty as charged. I was sick in bed and was quite literally sucked in (look at the pie-hole on that one, kids!). I do not usually write about things not directly related to my life, nor do I advocate watching bad reality TV, let alone on MTV, but this was just too appalling to pass up. That's saying something, because I am not shocked easily.

So here's the premise of the show. Over-indulged little snot gets to have a birthday party that usually costs more cheese than most people make in a year. This one, I'm hoping, is as bad as it gets in terms of how spoiled the kids are. Anyway, let's get on with it...

Sophie: preppy 15-year old private school snob (I can say that, I went to private school) from West Palm Beach, FL. As far as you can tell, she lives alone with her veterinarian mom who is, well, white. It's not a huge deal, but I noticed that the idea is never addressed in the show, as if someone might mention it to Sophie, she would gasp and exclaim something like, "Are you kidding? Get the fuck out! Take back that horrible insult!" and then maybe keel over and die. Because, aside from Sophie, the show turns out to be pretty much lily white, and Sophie does not register the fact that she is any different, which brings me to my next gripe...

Sophie's Hair!

Okay, it was a cheap shot, but this is seriously a close approximation. Somebody get that chick a hotcomb! Look, I know what it's like to be the one of only a few black girls and live in a place where very few hairdressers know how to "deal with" my hair. Still, that girl has more money at her disposal than any 15-year-old should, so there's really no excuse. I'm just going to blame her racial identity issues. Sorry, Sophia, it will not turn blonde and straight, so stop praying for the day that it will. You can't change the hair you were born with, but you can change a couple things...like you could drop forty pounds (those Dunkin Donuts and Moolattes go straight to your middle, apparently), and you could also adjust...

(Sophie and her blonde mom...still can't figure that one out. But for a designer dress, you could find one that don't make her boobs look fat and floppy...)

Sophie's Stank-Ass Attitude!
Once, in a department store, I saw a child slap her mother across the face for making her pick one sweater instead of buying two. I thought that woman was the worst mother in the world...until I saw Sophie's mom on TV. This woman is the obviously the source of the trouble. She lets the kids walk all over her, telling her to "shut up", "stop being annoying," and yelling and screaming all the time. Keep in mind this is the woman signing the check for the damn party.

The mother pays for the party, a new car, and whatever else Sophie asks for, despite several verbal assaults. I guess my question is, what happened to a good old-fashioned ass-whooping? Seriously, let's entertain the idea for just a second that my parents would throw such a party for me... if I dared utter a disrespectful retort, not only would the party be off but my mother would personally ensure that I could not sit down on my rear end for at least a week.

But Sophie is a bitch to everyone...so I guess her mother just takes it. Sucker.

BOTTOM LINE: If you happen to be home when it reruns, just try to watch without wanting to backhand the selfish little twit. And you know what my punishment will be for bad-mouthing her? I'm gonna have a daughter who is Sophie reincarnated. God have mercy on me.

Sowing the Oats: Or Things I Must Do Before Settling Down

2005-08-01T10:12:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot lately. I should grow up. I should settle down. With one person. Knock out a couple rugrats. Call it a day.

But before I do, there are some very important things I must take care of. Stuff I haven't gotten to in life. Stuff I'll always wonder about if I don't ever do it. So here it is, a list of five absolute "musts" before Ari retires from the playalistic life:

Live alone/Live with another girl. Don't get me wrong, I love my roomie D to death, but the thought of going straight from living with him to living with another bundle of testosterone is more than my feminine mystique can handle. I like my home clean, toilet seats down, sinks free of stubble, and everything smelling nice and flowery, thankyouverymuch.
Conquer the "hit list." Don't even act like you don't have one. You may have not consciously made it like I did, but somewhere in your mind, there's a list of people you're attracted to, a "wish list" if you will. You know for certain it probably wouldn't work out long-term, but you've just gotta find out "what if" or die trying. My hit list, I'll admit, is quite ambitious and even a tad lengthy, but I'm on it. And I'm not talking about sex, for those of you quick to slap the "ho" label on my forehead. It could be some juvenile hand holding, a make out session, or even just blurting out, "You know, I was always hot for you." It's cathartic, really. I highly recommend everyone get in touch with their inner hit list.
Go back to school. This should be interesting, since I currently enjoy not being broke and have not studied for anything in over two years, and thus lack the motivation to do so.
Own a house and/or car, all on my own. Because I gotta have my own shit together before I add my name to somebody else's bad credit.

And last but not least...

5. Spend a weekend (or longer) completely in the nude. By my damn self. Because it might be the first and last time I can do it before being tackled by a significant other...

Thank you. That is all.

Youth is Wasted on the Young: Or the Older Folks that Have More Stamina Than Me

2005-07-28T16:12:00.000-07:00

It was another long day out at the client hospital in suburban Chicago. You see, I travel four days a week and work, along with a team of 8-10 other consultants, at our client's hospital. Folks were stressed, tensions running high, but it was Wednesday, the second-to-last weekday (for us), and by the afternoon all thoughts turned to our favorite Wednesday pastime: TEAM DINNER.

Once a week our managing director takes the whole gang out to some swanky Chicago hotspot for a nice meal, a small compensation for being away from family and friends most of the week. If it's on the menu, we pretty much order it. Appetizers, salads, entrees, dessert. And don't forget the wine. Lots and lots of really good wine.

This particular week it was my turn to the pick the restaurant, and I chose a favorite of mine and my grandma (also a Chi-town resident): The Chicago Firehouse. I highly recommend it. What began as an early dinner (about 5:30pm) quickly became a marathon meal, wrapping up about 10:00pm, after my teammates became sufficiently soused.

You see, aside from me and another girl in her 20s, everyone on the team is aged 40+. I, being the lucky girl I am, had a freak allergic reaction to something in the air or in the food (still a mystery), and my eyes swelled to the size of golf balls (I put on my sunglasses since we were seated outside, and no one seemed to notice except when I attempted to scratch my eyeballs out). So why did I hang out? Well, the networking opportunities are endless, and if you're known as "that girl that bailed out early on dinner," your career just might never recover. So I sat, miserable and itchy.

As we left the restaurant, the ringleader, a director in his mid-60s (with 5 grandkids, I might add), announces that we're all going drinking. S (the other girl in her 20s) and I tried to make a mad dash for the rental car, but the director called after us, indicating the activity was not optional. S looked at me and pleaded to go back to the hotel to pack and get to bed, which was exactly where I wanted to go, exhausted and itchy as I was. We were met with taunts and jeers from the other team members (bear in mind, all grown-ass adults themselves) who called us "weak" and "no fun" as they jumped around on the sidewalk, yelling and carrying on for all of downtown Chicago to witness. Well it was clear what had to be done: S and I were going drinking with the bully consultants, swollen eyelids or not.

Thankfully, my coworkers relented long enough to let me make a mad dash for Walgreens to buy some benadryl to decrease my Quasimodo-like swelling. Then they took me to the bar and insisted on shots and beer (bastards), knowing full well I had just taken some medication. Peer pressure is a bitch. I can't believe I was being bullied by people with their own spouses, children (and some with grandchildren!) I can't tell you how many times I heard "Come on, Ari, don't be a pussy!" that night.

Final verdict: It was a good night. Didn't spend a dime, got drunk enough to forget about my itchy eyes, networked with some great contacts to further my career, and just enjoyed myself with some folks I happen to like very much.

But, seriously, why do people twice my age have twice my energy?

Hair, Steak and Houseparty: Or the Best Weekend in a While

2005-07-24T14:45:00.000-07:00

J, Ari, D and P at Mortons Georgetown (aren't they all hot?)

It was Friday, and I was tired. I didn't really want to go out that night, but S the intern reminded me that I had promised to hang out all summer and had yet to follow through. I relented, and by midnight we were on our way to Dream. Her sketchy connection C got us in for free just in time to see 112 perform, and then on to the VIP section where I met Slim. After four apple martinis, though, I don't remember what all I said to him. But that's not the story at hand...

Saturday morning I felt a bit icky, but P, my roommate's coworker and friend, came over to do my hair. He comes to my apartment to do it and charges me less than a salon (rave!) and does a fabulous job. Tell me if you want his number. He does my hair free every time I get him a new client. While chatting, we decided to try Mortons for dinner since he and roommate D are servers there and get a 50% discount. I invited my hot girl friend J, and off we went. At dinner, we were comped a bunch of side dishes and dessert, and it was only $100 for all four of us to eat (rave!)!

After that, we hit up a houseparty in Capitol Hill. The crowd was just OK, but there were plenty of jello shots to be had, so that kept us busy. Later on, our foursome hopped into a cab driven by a Sudanese dude (actually half Sudanese, half Irish, he explained, saying he was "all Irish" from the waist down. GROSS!). Roomie D suggested we take a detour to a strip club...and then...well, what did happen after that? Maybe I'll remember next time...

...But to recap: Good hair, good food, good fun? All in a day? These things ONLY happen to me... :)

Holy Crap: Or How Capitalism Raped Christianity

2005-07-05T08:08:00.000-07:00

In J's words, "I mean, I am a baller." So it was no big deal to switch my plans at the last minute and fly to Orlando for the 4th of July weekend to visit two of my favorite Gtown grads. We'll call them J-Squared.

Besides an awesome shopping spree at the outlet mall and a day of rides at Universal Studios, our happy threesome stumbled upon another interesting attraction just off of I-4: The Holy Land Experience. I'm telling you, had I not been there, no way we would have stumbled across an attraction so ridiculous.

Oh, yes. It IS what you think it is. The Holy Land Experience is a theme park/amusement/attraction designed to transport the 21st century visitor to The Holy Land. Israel. Jerusalem, to be specific. Nevermind the fact that you're not in an actual desert locale in the Middle East. You're in the middle of muggy, touristy, Disney-esque Orlando, right smack in the middle of the Red State/Bible Belt.

My mouth gaped wide open as we drove past. The Holy Land Experience? Are you kidding? My God, whose brainchild was this? And what venture capitalist agreed to finance such an undertaking? A huge replica of the Holy Temple blocked my view of the rest of the park, so my mind began to wander and imagine the types of attractions held within:

Test your agility in the "Dodge a Suicide Bomber" room! Avoid cafes, markets and public squares! Those bombers are tricky, and those who avoid getting blood and guts on their clothes WIN!
Sing along to the crucifixion! Dress up as an actual Roman guard and pose with the Savior!
Amaze your family as our holy magicians teach you to change water into wine! Great party tricks for all!
Challenge your friends to play peace broker b/t those feisty Israelis and Palestinians! Ceasefires and treaties get you bonus points, and the highest score wins!

All this and more at the Holy Land Experience!

Ok, so I'm bordering on sacrilege, but I'm trying to make a point. Christian or not, I hope most people were as appalled at this eyesore as I was. What's worse is that the park attempted to gain property tax exemption, a distinction reserved for venues such as places of worship. I feel violently ill just thinking about it. Capitalist pigs.

Riches, Rent and the Real World: Or Why Being a GrownUp Sucks

2005-07-01T13:52:00.000-07:00

That's it. Somebody build me a flipping time machine. I'm going back to the 80's and my blessed, blessed childhood innocence. I've been nostalgic for my youth (relative youth, I'm still in my early 20's) since college graduation, but a little incident recently made me long for the old days:

I called my mom for our usual weekly chit chat session. She reminded me that she, my dad and little brother would be out of town from June 27 to July 4, and that I should call grandma in the event of an emergency. I completely blanked. "What? Where are you going?" I asked, utterly confused.

"Ari, you really should pay more attention," said Mom. "I told you about this months ago. The family is going on an Alaskan cruise." What? I hadn't even packed yet! Family vacation? Alright! But wait, I didn't request off from work...and suddenly it hit me. I was not going on this family vacation. Mom clearly said "the family." But apparently she didn't mean me this time.

"Why aren't you taking me?!?!?" I whined. I want to go on a cruise!

And my mom said (and these are her words), "Excuse me, but didn't you just come back from Greece less than a month ago? And San Diego? And L.A.? (I still assert the last two don't count, they were work-related, well sort of...) You're a rich bitch now, and I don't finance your vacations, and that is all there is to say about that."

"I hope you run into a bunch of lesbian whale-watchers. Lesbians love whale-watching!" I said spitefully to my semi-conservative mom. I was mad. I was no longer entitled to the perks of being a minor and a member of my family. No more free vacations, no more free health insurance (not to mention a personal assistant to make those doctor's appointments for me, aka MOM), no more free food, no more free shopping trips, basically no more FREE stuff. Period.

When I get sick, who will make me chicken soup and watch TV with me? Certainly not my roommate. When I can't make up my mind, who will make the decision for me? Not a boyfriend, heavens, no. When I get dumped, who will tell me it's his loss and I'm the sexiest thing to ever walk God's green earth? Luckily, my mom, dad, grandma and friends all tell me this lie on a regular basis, so I'm safe.

But despite being a bright, educated, hard-working yuppie, I miss the days when no one expected anything in particular from me. I miss describing my occupation as KID, job description: playing games, watching cartoons, discovering the world (within a two-block radius, that is), and just generally annoying the bigger people around me, but in a cute/lovable way.

Now what have I got? Bills, bills, and bosses. Somebody always wanting something, expecting something, demanding something. Ari, you have to finish this today, Ari, you have to go to [insert chic new club here] on Saturday, Ari, you have to make out with [insert hot boy here] tonight, or else! Or else what? I don't have to anything but be me and die doing it.

Ugh, I'm just so tired! Tired, tired all the time...between work, happy hours, shopping, clubbing, traveling, talking, bonding, kissing, smiling, hugging and just loving life, my calendar is full!

I should just move back in with my parents. They'd accept me, just as I am. They'd feed me, take care of me...charge me rent. Make me do some chores. Ask a lot of questions about who I'm going out with, where and when. Grill me about lifestyle choices and chide me for the bad ones...

...WHAT THE HELL AM I TALKING ABOUT? There's clearly a cocktail with my name on it and a boy waiting to be smooched and to be lured to my apartment...just forget all that other shit I just said. Ciao!

Belching, Babies and Bonus Points: Or How to Make Business Travel Work For You

2005-06-20T11:50:00.000-07:00

Okay, so about six weeks ago, I started traveling for work. I asked my longtime manager, who's been traveling about two years straight, to delineate for me all the pros and cons of business travel. She laughed and said there are way more cons than pros, but there is a way to make it work for you. So far, she's been right about everything. So here are some of my observations and tricks of the trade:

Riding "bitch" sucks. You thought it was bad sitting in the middle seat of a car, but the middle seat of an airplane (in coach) is much worse by far. Why is it that the people on either side of you, Mr. Aisle and Mr. Window, whom each have an armrest to themselves, feel the need to jab their elbows into you, leaving you with not one, not two, but ZERO armrests for the duration of the flight? Selfish bastards. Here's a tip: Raise up your arms, stick out your elbows and rest them on TOP of Mr. Aisle's and Mr. Window's arms. They'll move faster than you think. Hey, just because the rest of the general population is obsessed with personal space doesn't mean you have to be. Take advantage and get TWO comfy armrests.
Bitch, get your hand off my fan! No, thank you, old mouthy woman...I do not need nor desire you to fiddle with my booklight or my fan. I am quite capable of handling both on my own. Guess what else? I really have no desire to chit chat with you about 1) your grandkids, 2) the weather, 3) that bitchy flight attendant or 4) the status of my love life. Now step, off grandmama, or I'm stealing your peanuts.
Get off your "crackberry", you're not as VIP as you think. Damn the man that invented a PDA, cellphone and portable PC all-in-one. I hate you. I loathe you. I dream about your death as much as I dream about dancing on Dr. Atkins' grave with a bunch of baguettes in my arms. You are the reason people don't watch where they're walking, have diminished social skills, and yak incessantly about NOTHING while in the airport security line, prompting yours truly to go for a swift kick to the arse and send said irritant flying through the terminal. Guess what? The rest of us don't give a crap about the TPS report, your boss' wife's cleavage, or the case of the clap you got from the cheap downtown hooker. Shut that thing off before I do it for you.
Seriously, who let you reproduce? It's not the kids that annoy me, though they come pretty damn close. It's you, the parent, that sits behind the newspaper or smiles that retarded smile, while your child(ren) raises holy hell in the middle of a crowded airport, that makes me want to scream. Wow, it is incredibly irritating that your kid is kicking my seat from behind every five seconds. And yes, it would be considerate of you to control said kid from doing so. But I can't bother you to do that...you've got three other rugrats in your arms to take care of. Ever thought of spacing them out a bit? How about using some birth control? I bet you regret that all those margaritas and romantic nights now, don't ya, you oversexed pimple on the butt of humanity?!? Get out of my way!
These Egyptian cotton sheets had better have a thread count of 3000-plus, or your ass is mine! Traveling so much makes you a really big hotel snob. I used to tease my dad about only staying in nice places when out of town, but now I understand. I am not in college anymore, and I have seen my last hostel. Period. It's the little things that make the difference between me doing my job well at the client site and falling asleep on my spreadsheet. I HAVE TO have a hotel with a concierge level, a free gym, in-room internet and a bathtub/shower combo. Don't put me by the ice machine or the elevator. Don't put me on a low floor where I can hear street traffic. I also need a personal pillow fluffer. Ok, kidding about the pillow fluffer, but not everything else. And, oh yea, if I don't get "points" (Marriott Rewards, Starwood Preferred Guest, etc.), I'm not staying.
I'm not paying that bill! You'd be surprised how often you get away without paying for something if you were dissatisfied with the service, but that's not what I'm talking about. One of my project managers took us out to dinner, and when the bill came, he flipped it over and said casually, "I'm not paying that." Everyone got nervous and looked at each other, thinking, "I shouldn't have ordered that appetizer and dessert! I can't pay the bill either! My baby mama gave me bad credit!" The project manager then smiled mischievously. "You guys better order more wine or something. That bill is way too low for me to pay!" Gotta love living on an expense account...except for the excessive weight gain...
Who do you love more? Being in your homebase only 2-3 days per week will make you savor your free time. You can't be the social butterfly you normally are and hang out with the people you would normally see all week. So what's a girl to do? PRIORITIZE! That's right, choose. Come on, admit it. You know you like some people better than others. Now you gotta be honest about it. This should also keep your friends on their toes. Sally blew you off for happy hour last week? See if that bitch gets a phone call in the next six months! Boyfriend wants to have a guys' night when you're home? Kick his ass to the curb; he had 4-5 days to be led around the world by his testosterone-fueled buddies. Dammit, I want my quality time!
Habib? Joe? Or Ali? If you take a cab or car service to and from the airport, just accept it: once in a while, your driver is going to want to make idle chit chat. You may be tired, it may be 5:30AM, but it doesn't matter: He's got stuff on his mind, and you're just the empty vessel to be filled. From "I love USA" to "All women are golddiggers"(hello, you're driving one!) to "Why you no vote for Bush?", drivers are some of the most chatty cathy's I have ever or will ever met...and talking to them was way more fun when you were drunk in college and on the way home from a bar.

All in all, I can't complain too much. I'm gainfully employed, making ends meet and doing really interesting work. But this is a fun topic, so as the weeks and months pass, I might be adding more. I'll keep ya posted, bitches!

Attack of the She-Males: Or How I End Up in Adams Morgan Every Weekend

2005-05-25T13:22:00.000-07:00

I don't care. Don't tell me I'm wrong. Don't tell me there's another way. It never fails...

Now, having been a DC resident going on five years, I consider myself educated, knowledgeable even, about the nightlife of this city. Wanna know where to grab some good Ethiopian grub? Gotcha. Mexican? Covered. How about some sushi? Just say, "Konichiwa, bitches." I'll even dress up all chic-like and escort you to Seasons or Capitol Grille, Mortons or Milano.

I've been to every cheesy club in NW. I've been to the hotspots in NE, SE, and SW...even on the evenings of various shootings (I'm telling ya, it's just my luck). I frequent the many lounges of downtown, hell...I'll even occasionally hit up the frat boy bars of Georgetown. Just keep me out of Arlington, for the love of God...I don't even wanna touch on that subject.

MASSIVE RUN-ON SENTENCE WARNING...NOW:
So, how is it, being the hip young urbanite that I am, that almost every Saturday night, rain or shine, wind or hail, presidential election or terrorist attack (pretty much the same thing in my book), when the bartender yells "Last call" and turns up the lights, I wink and slink away guilt-free from the hottie I was chatting up and from whom I took plenty of free drinks, and I then stumble to the door in a vodka-drenched stupor to...what? What's this?

OHMIGOSH! The horror! The humanity! What is this swirling leviathan of chaos? Kiddies, prepare yourselves: It's 18th Street at approximately 3:30AM on any given Sunday morning. Well, I'll tell ya, nothing sobers you up quicker than that scene. Geez Louise Almighty! Upon leaving the haven of the bar-cum-danceclub-cum-meatmarket, it hits you: the stench of 18th Street. Sweat, stale alcohol, vomit, blood, pizza, gyros and Ethiopian food mix with a not-so-subtle hint of sweaty balls in pantyhose (but I'll get to the she-males later).

I promise you, I can never quite remember how I ended up in Adams Morgan. The evening must have taken a turn for the worst at some point. It usually begins with a great meal or a cocktail in some stylish DC venue. Maybe we stopped at a houseparty and a few beers turned into a power hour, complete with jello-shots, flipcup, and drunken sorority girls, nay, sorority girl wannabes, dancing topless on couches (you know who you are, but lucky for you, you all look alike to me). Or maybe it was a really lame houseparty, and we drank all their booze just to punish them for being so uncool. Regardless, at some point we ran out of ideas, or one of my drunken friends just yelled out, "Adams Morgan!" and off we go, skipping toward the threshold of hell.

Inevitably, when I arrive on the 18th Street scene, I'm in that delightfully giddy, drunken reverie-type mood. All the people are "beautiful", even the bum by the ATM. The ladies are decked out in their cutest jeans, halter tops and stilettos, makeup flawless. The guys are resplendent in khakis and button downs, having just lacquered on some gel to keep their hair from fro-ing out in this humidity. I don't even notice the long lines outside Sake, Tom Tom or Heaven & Hell. There don't seem to be any at all...if there was a cover charge, I sure don't remember it. There's a seemingly endless wad of cash tucked in either my bra or the back pocket of my too-tight jeans. It all seems so glittery, so energetic, so perfect....ahhhh....

THEN EXPLAIN TO ME HOW IN THE HELL THIS MOSHPIT OF HUMANITY IS THE SAME UTOPIA UPON WHICH I ARRIVED JUST THREE HOURS EARLIER?!?!?!? Now, the scene is chaos. People are shoving, trying to get out of the bar, trying to get a slice of pizza, trying to get to their cars, trying to get a phone number, AND OBVIOUSLY TRYING TO ANNOY THE HELL OUT OF ME. Where are the beautiful people from the beginning of my evening? I saw them in line...I saw them dancing beside me...but they have all disappeared. The chic and fabulous are nowhere to be found. I shit you not. Upon leaving any Adams Morgan bar at closing time, I encounter only one thing: a SLEW of black men, most with more gold teeth than regular teeth at all, fumbling all over themselves to touch me, hold my hand or get my number. Now, I do not say this as if I were the hottest thing to ever walk the planet. In fact, it was positively terrifying the first time it happened, because I have never ever received that much attention from one man in my entire life, let alone a dozen all at once.

Once I break out of the Dating Game, I come face-to-face with a herd of people (most of the females looking like they skip most meals, anyway) literally wolfing down gigantic, gooey slices of pizza. You ever tried that stuff when you're sober? I promise you'll never eat it again when you're drunk. I turn away in disgust, searching for my friends, when I hear someone call my name. I whirl around in response and gasp for breath as someone grabs me in a bear hug and lifts me off of my feet. Nevermind the fact that I have no idea who it is.

"You look great!" He says, as I choke for air and struggle to remember where I've seen that face before. Oh, my precious Lord. My mind rewinds back to high school and a certain group of neanderthals that took such utter pleasure in making the lives of others (not just mine) so unspeakably miserable for four years. I know that face, dammit. He's that guy. The asshole. The one they called...

"[Insert cocky, third-generation-over-indulged-snob name here], it's been a long time. How are you?", I say, smiling my fakest smile. (He's really drunk, that's how he is. Pizza goo is hanging from one lip as he introduces me to his friend, an equally troglodyte-looking dude in those awful J.Crew shorts and a polo with, yes, you guessed it, a popped collar) Several moments of awkward silence pass after a cursory "what-are-you-up-to now" type convo, and I announce with great relief, "Well, nice running into you...(and not knowing what else to say) um, see ya at the reunion, I guess?"

"Yea, baby! October 7! Are you gonna be there? You gotta come! It will be so great! Just like old times!" I'll never know if he saw my jaw drop to the ground. I couldn't even think straight enough to remember how long I'd been out of high school, let alone remember the date of an upcoming reunion that will surely make for an interesting blog story.

"Er, um, sure." I say, waving goodbye and quickly making my exit. I quickly find my friends, including [insert hot boy who inevitably "just wants to be friends" here] and some astonishingly beautiful girl he's decided to bed down that even, er, morning, er, whatever.

After nearly having to arm wrestle some belligerent chick trying to get to her boyfriend at oh-so-holy Catholic U. while shouting expletives at me and questioning my African-American-ness repeatedly because my party didn't want to split a cab with her, I finally arrive home just in time to pass out naked on my bed. Alone. As usual.

At some point, hopefully many hours later, I'm awaked by my blaringly loud cell phone. Oh, joy. It's [Hot boy who wants to be "just friends"]. I muster the strength to speak. "So how was your night with what's-her-face?"

"Oh, yea. About that." He pauses. "I respect women, but I swear, if you tell anyone, I will punch you in the face without hesitation. She, well, she...[Astonishingly beautiful girl] wasn't really a she."

Aha. Balls in pantyhose. Gets you every time.

Birthday Cuddles and Arranged Marriages: Or Adventures in My Big Fat Greek Vacation

2005-05-15T15:01:00.000-07:00

So, my best friend M decides to go "teach English" in France for a year following graduation. Oh, really? Is that what you call an all-expenses-paid snogfest across Europe? Just kidding. Well, obviously, being the great friend that I am, I had to come and visit. One small problem: I HATE FRANCE. And no, not for the anti-Bush, anti-war reasons you Red Staters might think. I love wine. I love cheese. I love people-watching. I love fashion. I JUST HATE SKINNY BITCHY CHAIN-SMOKING SNOBS. There, I said it. You know you were thinking it. But I digress...

Well, I made it abundantly clear to M that I wouldn't come to France to visit. I suggested we meet somewhere else. Somewhere neither of us had visited before. Somewhere with culture. Somewhere with hot boys. Somewhere with beaches. Somewhere called Greece!

Here's the highlights:

Day 1:
M and I arrive in Athens in the early evening. We navigate the subway system, choose a hostel for the night, and M marvels at my newfound ability to pack light. We enjoy a yummy dinner of Greek salad (of which M and I become INSTANT fans!) and spanakopita (spinach pie). Our waiter ogles our hot bodies while telling us which islands we should visit.

Day 2:
M and I get up early to try to make our way to Rafina, a lesser-used port of Athens, but to no avail. No one speaks English and we don't speak Greek. Great. We settle for a frappe drink (Frappe: an awful, frothy, nasty cold coffee drink Greeks drink 24/7) at McDonald's (yea, no breakfast food, just frappes) before returning to the hostel for more planning. The "helpful" staff and travelers at the hostel tell us that it will be "impossible" to get to the islands via ferry that weekend because we unwittingly chose the holiday of the Greek Orthodox Easter to travel. So impossible, in fact, that we had to walk write into a ferry office, request ferry tickets, and buy them straight away...wow. Real impossible. M and I decide to not take anyone's advice for the duration of the trip.

Oh, yea. That day also just happens to be MY BIRTHDAY!!! We spend the evening with some wonderful Aussies from the hostel, including B (to read more about our Aussie friends, check out my post on "Spring Break! Wooo!"). At some point between the ouzo shots and my flaming birthday tiramisu, B asks me if I want (loose translation here) "Eh bahthdie ku'ul" in his thick Aussie accent.

"A what?" I ask cautiously. B, the gargantuan Aussie (maybe the equivalent of an American redneck), smiles his toothy grin again. "Ye know, eh bahthdie ku'ul. I wanna give ye eh bahthdie ku'ul."

Well, I don't want to be rude in a foreign country. I say, "Um, sure. That would be nice." How bad could it be? Well, B grasps me in a huge bear hug and kisses me on the forehead. "Ah knew ye'd like me bahthdie ku'ul." All of a sudden it hits me. Ooooh, he was giving me a BIRTHDAY CUDDLE. Haha. Awesome. From now on, when you see me on your birthday, look out. You're getting a birthday cuddle!

Day 3:
M and I make our way to Piraeus to board a ferry to Mykonos, one of Greece's Cycladic islands. A crazy horde of hotel and hostel owners meet us at the port, trying to get us to stay at their place. After not much haggling, and M shooting me a few worried looks, we get a place near Ornos beach, away from the main town, but still very nice. We feast on some yummy bits from the local grocery store and go into town that evening, where we witness a candlelight procession in honor of the Greek Easter...this is an interesting departure from the Mykonos (so we were told) that is the epicenter of gay nightlife in the Greek isles.

Day 4:
M and I chill on Ornos beach. We meet some American students and convince them that I am actually a business owner on vacation from Montana. My business? Funny you should ask. I own and operate a rodeo clown school. M can barely contain her laughter, but I think we had them going for a while.

Day 5:
M and I set sail for Santorini, or Thira, one of the most famous of the Cycladic islands. It is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen! We get a great room for only 10Euro per person, per night. We enjoy a romantic (too bad no boys around) dinner high atop the caldera cliffs. After having a bit of a grumple dumple mood swing on my part, M kicks my ass but then gladly accompanies me to Murphy's, an Irish pub in the middle of the Aegean Sea. Random.

Day 6:
M and I decide we love Santorini and would rather stay there for the duration of the trip then move on to another island. We take a morning cruise to the active volcano nearby and swim through freezing waters to the hot springs before lunch in Thirassia, another small island off of Santorini. Upon returning to the hotel, we run into B and T, our Aussie buddies from Athens! How random!

During dinner, M and I spy a guy eyeing us from a nearby table. He recognizes us speaking English and starts up a convo. His name is J, from Cali, and works for NASA. I think he's a nice enough guy...I find out later that M thinks otherwise...Hehe. He invites himself to walk around the town shops with us after dinner.

J, M and I stop into a jewelry store where I find some beautiful silver rings. The shop owner, G, turns out to be an American from Virginia. He's somewhat handsome, but considerably older than me. He tells us all the great places to visit on the island and absolutely insists we must visit a restaurant called Santorini Mou. He knows the owner. In fact, he says, he'll accompany us there the following evening...

Day 7:
After a day of roaming the countryside, M and I meet up with J and G at the restaurant. Mikhalis, the owner, is a perfect caricature of the old Greek taverna owner. He sits at our table with us, drinks his ouzo, and serenades us by guitar. Mikhalis and G tell us about their adventures with famous patrons of the restaurant, such as Jennifer Aniston and Green Day. Meanwhile, G makes sure my and M's wine glasses are never empty.

G, Ari, J and M

Ari and Mikhalis, Owner of Santorini Mou

After a while I'm buzzing, and I notice a small gold glint. "G, is that a wedding ring?" I ask, pointing to his right ring finger. I had checked his left already, because, as a woman, that's just what I do. G smiles, not a bit concerned as I about the fact that we had not heard a peep about Mrs. G up to this point.

"So, where's the Misses?" inquires M.

"I dunno, probably at home," says G nonchalantly. "Waiting on me."

"What about your kids?" I wonder. "Don't they care you're not home with them?"

"Kids?" G laughs. "God, no. My wife's way too young for kids. We've only been married four years." M and I blink rapidly. How old is she? we're thinking. G then elaborates, as if reading our minds. "Well, my parents weren't too thrilled with me, running off to Greece to start a new life. So, since we're Greek American, they preferred a marry a local girl. A family here on the island presented me with their three daughters, and told me to pick one. I chose the middle one, who was 17 at the time (bear in mind G is probably pushing 50), and took her to a pizzeria for our first date. After about an hour, she says, 'Okay, I love you.' I tried to agree, saying, 'Why, sure. I think I could grow to love you, too.' She cops an attidude and says, 'You think? You think you love me?' I caved in, said I loved her, and three days later I was hungover and married."

In the meantime, I'm thinking, where the hell is that cab G promised he would call for us? J, M and I were sightseeing tomorrow and needed to get to sleep soon. M is incensed at this point. She and G start debating the idea of arranged marriages. I found Mikhalis and asked about our cab. Mikhalis looks confused and says, "G never called a cab...I'll get one for you." Now, I am sketched out. G had no intention of letting us leave soon.

Back at the table, G explains himself to Molly, saying marriage is an institution necessary to procreate and maintain familial stability, but "I could be in love with many people. When you walked into my store, I just fell in love with both of you," he says, gesturing to M and myself. I laugh, thinking, Okay, G, I'm not buying any more jewelry from you. AND WHERE THE HELL IS THAT CAB? At that moment, the taxi arrived and we bid adieu to Mikhalis. J, M and I jump into the car, with G trailing on his motorcycle, no headlight on. I swear he looks like Batman, his black leather jacket flailing behind him like a cape as he follows our taxi, a scary red glint in his eye. M and I leap out at our hotel as G exclaims, "Come on! Let's grab one more drink at Bar Tropicana!" I look at my best friend and run for our bedroom door.

Day 8:
J graciously rents a car and lets us tour the island with him. We go to an ancient excavated Greek village, the Red and Black Beaches, so named for the color of their sand, made from volcanic ash. We stop at a small, almost deserted beach taverna, where the owner makes us a fresh lunch of fresh fish just caught and goat cheese made from his very own goat. M puts on a brave face, but J and I enjoy the fresh fishies.

Ari, Greek Guy, Fishy, and M

Ari and the Fishy

At one of the beaches, J can't seem to start the rental car. M almost bursts into tears laughing so hard at him when he gets out to ask a local for help. At this point, she admits to me J reminds her of Napoleon Dynamite, and that's why she's been so annoyed with him all along. Now that she mentions it, I see the resemblance too, and I can't help but laugh.

M's description of J (in her own words):

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOh do I remember... I wish (sometimes) I didn't... actually that's a lie, Napoleon Part Deux was freaking hilarious and whilst being extremely nice and informative, I found most of his "little-known-little-cared about" factoids somewhat annoying as HELL! :)

So let's start with:
1) "Did you know that artichokes are indigenous to Greece as well as California?!" - Nooooooooo brainy-ack I didn't, but don't I care... that's what you really should be asking me. And again, the answer would be an enthusiast NOOOOOOOO.

2) Then how about the 'ice plants' that he thought to have discovered on the roadside of Santorini. - Yes, I know about ice plants and the purple (sometimes pink) flowers that bloom from them. Next time I have a medal for "Plant Discoverers" I will be sure to award it to Napoleon. Oh wait - actually I don't give out medals for whacked out things like this.

3) Next up -- starting the car. Now I am not (hopefully) trying to sound judgemental when I say this... but is it particularly difficult to start a car you have been driving around all day, if -- you are a NASA employee, are in your mid 30's, and can drive a stick shift?!! I dunno, apparently it is. The "Wow, this is really interesting"'s and "Gee whiz, what the geepers is the problem with this VEHICLE"'s were so amusing that I almost wet my pants.

That combined with the fact that he thought he was discovering "ancient" rocks on the beach (but they really turned out to be broken pieces of clay vases) and completely humored himself by skipping rocks (remember how he would laugh and say "OHHHH WOW, Gee that was so swift!!") made for a memorable day.

Now I add this disclaimer... I am being bitchy by making fun of him this bad. He was a really sweet guy, someone who was really well intentioned, good humored, very accomodating, etc. so in the end that all out weighs any of the above mentioned hilarities.

Red Beach

M can't take much more of J and stays behind while I tour the town of Oia with him. He takes literally 200 pictures of a beautiful sunset while I chat up a freshly divorced Aussie who's taken off work for a month to travel the world. What a life! That night, I say goodbye to J. Whew.

Day 9:
M and I are sad to leave Santorini as we head back to Athens. We happily find that T, an Aussie friend from Athens, is on our boat. We also find out that he ditched B on Santorini...just couldn't stand traveling with him anymore. He made up some "family emergency" and fled. Some friend, I'm thinking.

Day 10:
M and I stuff ourselves with what will be the last few authentic Greek salads for a while, hop a flight to London and go our separate ways. It will be a few more months before I get to see her again in the States, so I hug her tight :) I remember that I'll be going to work on Monday and suddenly feel depressed.

Bottom line: Go to Greece. Do it. Do it TODAY! You'll never forget it.

Spring Break! Wooooooo!: Or Why the World Laughs at America

2005-04-30T11:53:00.000-07:00

It was our second evening in Athens, Greece when M and I decided to venture down to the courtyard in our hostel and meet up with some fellow travellers. What better way to ingratiate yourself with new friends then by buying a couple beers and sitting down amongst them in the fray?

First of all, everyone was sooo friendly! We found ourselves in the midst of many, many, many Australians (whom I assumed all knew each other, but none of them did), a few Brits, Canadian neighbors from up North, a Japanese, a Korean, and just four other Americans. We joined the large circle, and in true pre-school "Hi, My Name Is" style, introduced ourselves and our hometowns. Note to self: Don't bother learning people's names. You'll find, especially after a few Greek Mythos beers, that you won't remember them anyway. You will, however, know where they are from. Hence, the friends from down under are "the Aussies," the English pastry-chef turned-barman was "Johnny English," the filthy-minded nerdy girl (swear she looks just like the chick from 'The Princess Diaries') and Cassa (our roommate) were known as "Blame Canada," and somehow I remembered the one Irishman as "T." Go figure.

So anyway, as we went around the circle introducing ourselves, the Aussies kindly informed us that we must state our name, hometown/country, and then exclaim, "SPRING BREAK! WOOOOO!" M and I were still fiddling with bottlecaps, but obviously confused. Why would we pretend to be some retarded TRL'ers on Cancun Spring Break? No flipping clue. Well, to clarify, a lovely Aussie, who paused only briefly from downing her classy wine in a plastic bottle, informed us that she and her countrymen had just returned from the Greek island of Corfu in the North, where they had encountered a mercilessly unruly bunch of American (presumably college) kids on Spring Break. These Yanks apparently cannot go two minutes without screaming, um, well, you know: "SPRING BREAK! WOOOOOOOOO!"

M and I looked at each other and cracked up. How many of our own college spring break adventures had involved those infamous words, or some frat boy from our party screaming them out? But why did we do that, we wondered?Even M, more so than I, having actually lived in a sorority house and partied with the stereotypicals in question, could not really comprehend why it was Americans felt the need to scream out such things in alcohol-induced euphoria.

Regardless of why we do it, just know this, America. They're laughing at ya. Oh, yea. The whole world. You look dumb and silly and are the butt of an international joke. But given the last couple of years, this should come as no surprise. Just thought you'd like to know. :)

The Misogynist Within: Or My Secret Love of Hip-Hop

2005-04-22T06:29:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I consider myself a feminist. Not a femi-Nazi, for those of you misinformed souls out there. I believe in the inherent equality between male and female, on almost every imaginable level. Where we differ in ability, there tends to be some sort of balance. For example, you, caveman, can benchpress a small truck. I, a lady, can push a baby the size of a watermelon out of a hole the size of a lemon (*ick*, but not any time soon). I can openly discuss my feelings and emotions without anyone calling me a sissy, but you can check your emotions at the door in order to make a rational argument (especially important when your debate partner only responds to rationale). You can fart and belch without fear of reprieve, but I can flash a winning smile (or a strategically placed pout, your choice) to get what I want. I want equal pay for equal work. I want it to be publicly recognized and valued that a parent (male or female) who chooses to stay at home and raise children has just as demanding a career as their corporate attorney spouse (by the way, women who work and raise babies better not ever hear their husbands talking smack about anything). Men and women are equal in the eyes of God, and it is the manmade constructs of organized religion and patriarchy that have convinced us otherwise.

So, I'm a feminist, and it is my duty to oppose all things degrading and demeaning to women. An obvious target: rap and hip hop music. Now don't get your panties in a bunch: just as with any stereotype, what applies to the group does not necessarily apply to each individual. This genre of music covers a great many topics of interest, and plenty other genres haven't been kind to women, either. However, decades of "bitch" this, "ho" that and scantily-clad "video hoes" submissively shaking their badunk-a-dunk booties all over the place, while the rapper describes all the things he's going to do to her body (because it's an object, a mere plaything), has got me fuming.

Recently a male friend of mine began sharing with me his genuine love of hip-hop, and I must admit: I was floored. Who knew there was so much to learn? Well, obviously he did. I got to hear everything, and believe me, he knows a TON. So, in turn, I decided to give it a chance. More often I started tuning to my "Hip-hop/Rap" playlist on my iPod (most prized possession). It was only then that I started to actually LISTEN to the lyrics of the tunes I was grooving to. Then I felt ashamed. Dirty. A traitor to my gender. For you, readers, a glimpse at possibly the most offensive songs on my iPod...

*Head Sprung - LL Cool J. Presumably titled to liken a woman's head to a spring coil, bouncing up and down as she...ooh, I'm getting nauseated....
*Can I Get A... - Jay-Z. Okay, this one goes both ways. J claims women all are all gold diggers, and the chick on the track pretty much confirms it. Count how many times he says bitch....oy.
*Overnight Celebrity - Twista. I like the line about, *ahem*, "dessert condiments." Essentially, sleep with me (but you'll have to close your eyes and imagine it's Denzel, because Twista's a big boy), and I might get you a recording contract.
*Sugar (Gimme Some) - Trick Daddy. He dedicates this one to all the "nice, clean, decent women." Then proceeds to compare all the ice cream flavors (different kinds of women) he likes to sleep with. Pure poetry...
*Superman - "Put anthrax on a tampax and slap you (a woman) till you can't stand." LMAO...I mean, that is not humorous at all! Well, sort of funny...
*Spread - Andre 3000. To his credit, Andre also has a song called "Behold a Lady", which I just love. And spread does refer to what you think it does...
*It's O.K. - Slimm Calhoun. This is where Ari learned what "cutting" or "to cut" means. Apparently "all these lonely girls" wanna cheat on their man to get with a guy who hasn't had a hit record in...well, wait. Who were we talking about again?
*Big Pimpin' - Jay-Z - The opening lines are "You know I thug 'em, fuck 'em, love 'em, leave 'em Cause I don't fuckin' need 'em Take 'em out the hood Keep 'em looking good But I don't fuckin' feed em." From what I hear, video hoes thrive on sperm and cocaine alone, so I guess you don't have to technically feed them...
*What's Luv? - Fat Joe feat. Ashanti. Now, this is really Tina Turner's fault. She said first, "What's Love Got to Do with it?"
*Holiday Inn - Chingy. Video hoes + cognac + weed + economy-priced hotel chain = blazed-out-of-my-mind enough to drop my panties for TWO ugly rappers (Snoop and Chingy)? I must protest...
*Nasty Dancer - Kilo. Again, I blame Tina Turner. Kilo did sample this song from her. But he gave it an ATL booty beat and called her a "project ho." Classic.
*Love in Ya Mouth - Kilo. What he really means is he wants to kiss? Make out...right? RIGHT? Well, he does mention being really "hizzard" and not feeling her "teefez".
*Get Low (remix) - Lil John. I guess the depravity of this one doesn't really hit you until you hear your 50 year old suburban mother singing along with this one in her minivan (WHAT DID I TELL YOU? THESE THINGS ONLY HAPPEN TO ME...).
*Ignition (remix) - R. Kelly. I "remind you of" your Lexus Coupe? Didn't you do that song a couple albums ago?
*Hot In Herre - Nelly. Well, you gotta give him credit. He explicitly tells you to get naked. At least you know what you're getting into...
*Tip Drill - Nelly. This video features a credit card being swiped down the crack of a video ho's behind. Now that's art.
*Gigolo - R. Kelly feat. Nick Cannon (let's call him Kells, hehe) - Watch out ladies, ladies. He's not tryin to be your man, he's tryin to leave the club with a groupie (and get herpes, you sick SOB).
*Project Bitch - Cash Money Millionaires. The gold-toothed New Orleans clique regales us with their love of the good women who grow up in housing projects; you know, "hood rat chicks." They apparently have some amazing *ahem* skills.
*Back that Azz Up - Juvenile -"I wanna walk you like a dog." Really? And just how does that work?
*B aby Got Back - Sir Mix-a-Lot. Now, I know none of you have ever heard of this song, but seriously, it's really degrading to women. If you heard it, no way you'd ever dance to it. Promise.
*Oh Boy - Camron. He's awfully confident about being so misogynist considering he's the UGLIEST RAPPER IN HISTORY.
*Hey Ma - Camron. See above.
*Still Not a Player - Big Pun feat. Fat Joe - He "regulates every shade of that ass." How romantic. Afterwards, get your clothes, you gotta get out, biatch!

Haha. As the above-mentioned friend would say, most of this music isn't even "real" hip-hop. It's actually pop music, played in constant rotation on radio stations and in clubs...and that's probably why I like it, because it has a catchy hook and you can dance to it. Nevermind the fact that I'm essentially slapping every feminist icon in the face with my blatant disregard for their efforts...I gotta shake my groove thang on Saturday night. Sorry, Gloria Steinem, you wasted a lifetime trying to eradicate the objectification of the fairer sex because I, a female, silently approve these misogynist songs by bobbing my head in time with the beat.

What's even worse is when other women objectify themselves. Case in point, a favorite Janet Jackson track from Damito Jo:
"You need to make love to me like you don't love me. Don't have to be gentle tonight. Just be an animal tonight...Do me, baby, come on and drive me crazy. Act like I'm not your lady. Do me like you wanna do them other girls..." ~"Like You Don't Love Me"

Question, WTF is wrong with me? I must be seriously sick in the head. Somebody ought to slap the crap out of me...but in the meantime, where's my iPod?

Holy Roller: Or How to Live Among the Sinners

2005-04-18T13:46:00.001-07:00

I recently joined a professional women's organization. They're a great group of ladies, and we get together for social, educational, community service and faith-based activities. I'm really pleased with the group so far, and especially their special emphasis on birthday celebrations. Once a month we get together to celebrate all members' birthdays for the month. This past week we went to a place waaaaaay out in Largo, MD (if you read my entry about why I hate Arlington, VA...that goes double for Largo). Anyway, one young lady brought along a man that I ended up chatting with for most of the evening. Let's call him Y.

Y, it turns out, is from my hometown of Atlanta. His father is a well-known pastor of a large church down there, and, following in his father's footsteps, Y came to Washington to study at seminary. That is, he's a seminarian. That is, he's preparing to be a pastor. You know, a leader. A holy guy. Now, when I think about being a pastor, I think of a few things:
1) People suck up to you.
2) People watch their language/actions around you, lest God strike them down for acting crazy in front of a holy roller.

...and more importantly, I just have a stereotype in my head of the way a pastor (or a pastor-in-training, in this case) might comport himself...
3) That is, pastors don't drink, curse, lie/cheat/steal, use illegal substances or do any number of things the general population might label as "fun."

So, anyway, my first introduction to Y was this: We picked up him and my girlfriend and decided to carpool to the place. Y wanted to move his car first, since he had parked in a questionable spot. We drove him to it, where he promptly removed a fake parking ticket from his windshield and placed it on the car he had stolen it from! I chuckled at this, not knowing at the time he planned to lead a whole congregation of people in deciphering right from wrong. Hey, parking in DC is no joke. You gotta be creative.

While on the way to Largo, I learned of Y's studies. I thought it only fair to warn him that the ladies with whom we'd be spending the evening tend to get a little wild and rowdy. I assumed that, as a seminarian, he probably did not drink alcohol. When I inquired, Y replied (I shit you not!), "Yes, I do on occasion partake of communion." Well, the other three ladies in the car just burst out laughing, as did he. The cat was out of the bag. Y the seminarian was a bit of a drinker.

Now, I said bit of a drinker. Let me rephrase that. He drank me under the table. Granted, I had just given blood to the Red Cross that day, so I didn't drink a lot, but I swear Y's glass was never empty. We had some really interesting dialogue about seminary and about faith and religion in general. At this point, I'm simply thinking, he's still pretty pure compared to the rest of us.

Upon leaving the restaurant, Y expressed an interest in heading to Dream nightclub to blow off some steam and "grind." He wanted to go dancing. Okay fine. I know what you're thinking. Ari, this story is boring, get to the good stuff.

Well, this entry would've never made the blog except for the fact that, when we dropped Y and the other young lady at the club, he leaned into my window and asked if I had any weed on me or where he could buy some! He said that would complete a great evening!

Now, I am not naive enough to believe that many people don't partake in many of the above-mentioned activities. Of course they do...but I ask you this: You ever sit back and get blazed with Father O'Shaughnessy? Ever grind to some Neptunes beat with your Youth Pastor? What about doing a power hour with the Dalai Lama and Rabbi Schulman? Yea, didn't think so...

...these things only happen to me...

Pretty Girl Parade: Or the Men in My Life

2005-04-15T13:12:00.000-07:00

I'm a lucky girl. I have sooooo many male admirers. Don't hate. I bet you have them, too. You just don't acknowledge them and treat them right the way I do. And now, without further ado, my favorite pickup lines from homeless men/security guards/bike messengers/janitors/CVS cashiers...

"Where's the marching band?"
"'Scuse me?"
"How you gonna have a pretty girl parade without a marching band?"

"You going to a club dressed like that? It's cold out. Your momma would be ashamed. Either go upstairs and put more clothes on, or come home with me and take them all off."

"You are soooo beautiful." (This one wouldn't be bad, except I saw this guy in several different places all over Northwest. I swear he remembers me, because he always follows me for about five minutes, repeating it over and over).

"lkajflakfdjafdiudjlkvavkjoiauwgraygvnboefdudfiufj3u4297u98tnv!!!!" (This one is the crazy guy with the trumpet at the corner of 18th and H st NW. He always yells something at me when I get off the 32 bus, but I turn up my iPod so I can't hear him.)

And my personal favorite never said a word. While walking through McPherson Square, just two blocks shy of the White House, a bike messenger passed by, honked my left breast as if it were a dog toy, turned around and smiled at me before slamming headfirst into a light pole. There is justice in the world.

Lick my face: Or a Trip to the Dog Park

2005-04-15T12:55:00.000-07:00

Being that it was a beautiful Saturday, I took a trip with a friend to the nearby dog park. While minding my own business and reading a very good book, a friend of my friend shows up. Let's call her X. Now I met X on a handful of occasions before, but I was always either very tired or drunk. So this was the first chance I had to have a real convo with X, who seems like a nice enough girl.

She brought a sandwich from a nearby deli to eat. In my head I'm thinking (but will never say), good, that sandwich is pretty gooey. Maybe it will provide some much-needed moisture for her pencil-thin lips (I'm not kidding. X's lips are constantly chapped and flaking...to the point where you can't really focus on what she's saying because you're staring. My friend says it's because she drinks too much and is always dehydrated). She adjusts her two sizes too large jeans and sits down next to me to eat. Before eating, though, she goes out of her way to show me the open sores between her big and second toes from where her thong sandals had dug in. She touches it before opening her sandwich. Gross, but I've seen worse. So I continue to smile and be nice. I go back to reading.

Satisfied after taking the sandwich to the face (I'm talking maybe 2-3 minutes, tops), she curls up on the blanket we're sharing and plays with her little dog. I looked at her, horrified because several gooey gobs of some mayonnaise-based product are ALL OVER her face (huge chunks...unless the sensors in her skin are dead, no way I'd believe she couldn't have felt them). I politely inform her she has a bit of food around her mouth (I mean, entire face) and she giggles and goes, "Yea. I'm a really messy eater." Okay, fine. She then proceeds to let the dog lick the remains off of her. Only at this point am I really grossed out.

These kind of people, I think, are attracted to me...but what can you say? She's really nice, so I'll just put up with it.

Damn You, I-395: Or Why I Hate Arlington, VA

2005-04-14T13:40:00.000-07:00

Seriously, why live there anyway? It's not any cheaper than the city and you can't find any damn thing. Stick to the District and you'll be fine...until you get married, have kids and want them to go to a good school, then you'll have to have tons of cash. But I digress...

So there I was, heading to Shirlington (most useless part of Arlington) for Janice's birthday dinner. A few friends met me at work and we took the Key Bridge to 395.

I don't know how it happened (and of course it was obviously NOT MY FAULT), but we ended up exiting at Pentagon City. We got turned around, got back on 395, and somehow ended up back in the District, but in Southwest, by the waterfront. I looked for signs back to 395 South, drawing us closer and closer to Southeast DC (no matter how many nice condos they build, I will never forget what my father told me when he dropped me off freshman year at Georgetown: "STAY OUT OF SOUTHEAST, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!")

Finally, and only by the grace of God (who was done screwing with me for the moment), we found the highway and got to Janice's apartment just as Lost was beginning. Too bad it was a rerun.

When Life Gives You Lemons: Or How to Make Tequila Shots

2005-04-13T13:37:00.000-07:00

Here is a copy of the e-mail I sent to many of my coworkers after my elevator incident:
*****************************************************************************

Dear friends and colleagues,
I am writing to warn you of a potential hazard of working at [my office]. While leaving the building yesterday evening, I became trapped in elevator Number 2. I don't know what happened, but somewhere around the 2nd floor the car just stopped. I panicked, pushed all buttons frantically and finally pressed the "Call" button, where a very nice young man answered the phone on the other end and helped calm me down. Before hanging up, he told me to call back in 3-5 minutes after he called the fire rescue unit, the elevator engineer, and security. When I did, he assured me that someone would come and get me: in about an hour. So here are a couple of things you should keep in mind while trapped in an elevator:
1) It's good to have a cellphone. I called my manager hoping she would appreciate the hilarity of the situation, but she did not pick up. I called my mom, and she laughed at me but kept me company. To that end, if you have Verizon, you can still achieve decent service.
2) Make sure you are well-groomed that day. I happened to have two very handsome firemen rescue me in about 30 minutes.
3) Do not try to make jokes with the man on the other side of the call button. He is your only lifeline besides the cellphone. He at some point asked me if he could get me anything. I laughed and asked for Subway and a diet coke.
4) Make sure you do not have any after-work plans. I just barely made it to Whole Foods as they were closing.
And most importantly, #5:
Ever hear anyone tell you not to jump up and down in an elevator because it might get you trapped? Completely true. Let's just say I was ecstatic to be leaving work "early" at 8:30pm. Lesson learned.
Well, I hope we all learned something here. Have a great day and PLEASE...take the stairs.
Best,
The (un)graceful One

Ashlee Simpson: Or How I Became Trapped in an Elevator

2005-04-13T07:51:00.000-07:00

Nevermiiiind the fact that I worked 14 hours on Monday. There I was again on Tuesday, the minutes and hours creeping by precariously, the chance of watching American Idol slowly slipping through my carpal-tunnel-doomed hands.

Finally my manager and I finished up for the evening, and she gave me the green light to head home. I was damn near joyful to be leaving work "early" at 8:30pm! While waiting for the elevator, I got to thinking about my excess nervous energy...and a random stream-of-consciousness made me think of another person who probably had nervous energy. Ashlee Simpson. I thought of her lip-syncing on SNL...and even more hilarious, her little hoe-down dance that followed.

Once on the elevator, I was trying to picture the dance in my head. Ah, there it was. NOW WHAT ON EARTH POSSESSED ME TO RE-ENACT SAID DANCE BY MYSELF ON THE ELEVATOR I WILL NEVER EVER UNDERSTAND. I almost wish someone had been in there with me...maybe I would have been too embarrassed to do it. So while performing my jig, I must have jumped up and down a little too hard, because all of a sudden the elevator car shuddered...AND STOPPED.

Good Lord almighty. It didn't even cross my mind to be scared. I just frantically pressed all the buttons and waited for something to happen. I finally sat down, called the "Call" button and the security guard informed me it would take about an hour to rescue me. And I had to pee. BAD. And I had plans to go grocery shopping for my friend Janice's birthday dinner the following evening. I guess kiwis, strawberries and raspberry vinaigrette would just have to wait.

So I sat down and pulled out the cellie. God bless you, Verizon! I had service at least. I chatted with my mom (who laughed at me), and Osie (who didn't). Two sexy fire fighters got to me about 20 min later, and I made it to Whole Foods with 15 min to spare.

Chalk it up to one of the weird things that happens to me...

Sodom and Gomorrah: Or the Only Straight Girl on the Planet

2005-04-11T09:36:00.000-07:00

It was a beautiful weekend in Washington. Not a cloud in the sky! Unseasonably warm temperatures greeted my roomie David and me as we headed toward the National Mall with David's puppy Logan.

In fact, we were on our way to meet dear friends A and K (names have been changed to protect the temporarily insane), who had set up shop with a delightful picnic on the Mall. Not even the last vestiges of the Cherry Blossom tourists (most annoying ever) could dampen my happy mood.

Upon arriving at the picnic, I met several of A and K's other friends, all young women about my age. We ate and chatted, played truth or dare, and somehow the conversation turned to sex (what a shocker)...maybe this was a truth question; I don't really remember. Anyhow, the question posed was this: "Have you ever (if you are female) kissed/made out/had sex with another woman? If yes, what happened? If not, would you?"

Now, perhaps you readers need a little background about me. I don't know when this new wave of girl-on-girl action took the country/world by storm (yes, I know it's always been a popular male fantasy, but I feel it's been particularly out there as of late), but I for one am patently, ridiculously tired of seeing scantily-clad, low self-esteemed females making out/groping each other for the satisfaction of an observing male. Let me be very clear: This does not make me homophobic. If you're a lesbian, great, whatever, go do your thing. DO NOT, i repeat, DO NOT, go to a bar, get drunk, pick out whichever skeeby, J.crew-wearing-trustfund-having sorry excuse for a man you want to blow that evening, and proceed to make out with the next hot chick sitting next to you in the hopes that the object of your affection will think it's hot. Don't lie. You know that's why you're doing it. And you better hope the chick sitting next to you isn't me, because YOU WILL get a slap on the fanny (unless you think that's hot, then I'll just slap your face). Non-lesbians making out lesbian-style is not cool. Period. You're setting back feminism like one gazillion years...

Back to the story: So my answer to the question, as if you couldn't tell, was no, I had not, and no, I didn't plan to. I thought I'd have one or two of the group agree with me....NOT ONE, I TELL YOU! NOT ONE! In turn, each proceeded to reveal her hot lesbian experiment or hot lesbian fantasy, AND THEN proceeded to chastise ME for being so conservative and close-minded (meanwhile, anyone who knows me knows I lean fairly left, but anyway...)

Well, I just sat there feeling like the last straight girl on the planet...needless to say, they didn't invite me to their "naked party" (which is exactly what it sounds like).

Genesis: The birth of the blog

2005-04-11T07:43:00.000-07:00

In the beginning, there was Ari. God made Ari, just like God made all things, and saw that it was good. "It" being all creation, including Ari...that would be me.

I don't know. I have a sneaking suspicion God has a sense of humor and likes to laugh at a select few of us, especially me. Before I get to my crazy misadventures, I'd like to point out how good I've got it...

1) I'm alive and healthy.
2) I have faith.
3) I have a loving family.
4) I have friends that care about me.
5) I'm educated.
6) I'm gainfully employed.
7) The weird and quirky things that happen to me are the extent of my problems in this world.

Great. Now that we've got that over with, on to the mayhem!