Pity The Mac Specialists At Apple Stores Today

There are many things I do not understand in life. But I really do not understand this.

Snack Attack

Well, the building did not burn to the ground yesterday, so I'm guessing everything is OK. I never did find out exactly what caused the rumor to start. I think that someone in our company had been (ironically) on a smoke break outside and saw a fire truck pull up to the curb, and drew his own conclusions. Oh, and someone else told me that they had heard running feet in the fire escape stairwell. That's about all I was able to ascertain about yesterday's possible fire. Mind you, that was still third-hand "information." Anyway, here I am again, back in the cube and not cindered. Cool.

In other (far more intriguing) news, a co-worker forwarded me an article today with the entitled "Japan's all-star speed eater suffers professional injury." If you're like me, you're probably wondering, "What sort of professional injury could a speed eater suffer?" I'm so glad you asked, because now I can say, "Just click it."

Haha, get it? It's like "Just do it", only instead of "do" you say "click" and... oh never mind. It wasn't that funny.

So anyway, I'm not going to say much about the article, but I do want to point out that the concept of eating as a competitive sport is very weird. I mean honestly, how do you "train" for it? Do you just stuff your face as much as possible every day? Or do you alternate speed training (how much you can eat in a certain time frame) with endurance training (how much you can eat, period)? Either way, my response is "gah."

Speaking of eating, I'm feeling a bit peckish at the moment, if by "peckish" you mean "STARVING." What to eat, what to eat... I can't make up my mind. But one thing I do know: the phrase "53 hot dogs" will NOT be a part of my decision-making process. Gross.

Rumor Has It

There's a rumor making the rounds of my office that the 14th floor of our building is on fire. But no one seems inclined to do anything about it, which leads me to suspect that a) this rumor is not true, or b) we will all be burned up because of our determined nonchalance.

I really hope the answer is "a" because here I am, still sitting in my cube, not being evacuated from a supposedly burning building.

In other news, I went for a jog this morning along the horse trails in my town, and ran smack into a huge spider web. Is there any better way to start the morning than with the possibility that a black widow or a brown recluse or some other equally horrible arachnid has gotten stuck in your hair? Well, in my opinion, NOT running into the spider web would have been one of those better ways. But maybe that's just me.

Speaking of jogging in the morning, I have been doing it on a fairly regular basis now over the past month, and there is one main thing that I have learned from the experience: you can train your body to wake up early in the morning, but that will not make you a morning person. Trust me.

Is It Time To Go Home Yet?

And the answer to that question, so very unfortunately, is "no." Still have an hour to kill at the office. Shall I use a machete or a rope?

Ha. But seriously, isn't that a funny phrase, "an hour to kill"? Where did it come from, the idea of killing time? If someone else would care to Google it and find out, that would be great. I'm too lazy.

In other news, I just got handed another project to proof, so I better stop blogging and start working. Boo.

TGIF

I have found a new love... it's called the pumpernickel bagel from Noah's. Mmmmm!

OK, I know. It's sad that my new love has to be a bagel. But hey, when the pickings are slim, what can you do.

In other news, my first writing packet deadline for the semester is coming up next week. Let me tell you, June 30 never loomed as ominously as it does right now. And it's pretty tough for any day in June in Southern California to achieve ominousness, seeing as how they are usually so bright and warm and sunny and all, but June 30 has done it, thanks to the fact that my procrastination skills have been in full force ever since I got back from Louisville.

Wow, that was a really long sentence.

Speaking of procrastination, I have some down time at work right now, so technically I could be catching up on my reading, or getting further along on the short story I started the other day. I could, but then I would not be procrastinating. Nor would I be writing this blog. So not only would the frogg files not be updated with the sort of important information that this post obviously contains, but I would also call my whole nature into question, because if I did not procrastinate, who on earth would I be? The implications are just staggering. Oh, what a quandarous life I lead, caught between dilemmas of duty and identity!

And if you think that sounds more profound than it actually is, congratulations! You are correct!

Sorry, my day got off to a weird start. Let's just say it included a can of Coca-Cola exploding, and I haven't quite recovered. That's the only explanation I can think of for the preceding paragraphs.

In other other news, I'm really glad it's Friday.

Yet Another Reason Why The Frogg Is Still Single

There are no doubt many effective ways to ask a woman out. The following example is not one of them.

So I was out walking yesterday evening around the Rose Bowl when a man jogged past me, going in the same direction. As he went by, he turned toward me and seemed to be trying to make eye contact, but it was hard to tell because he was wearing dark glasses, so I ignored him and pretended to be absorbed with my iPod settings. (Since my iPod is a shuffle with no display, this was probably not very convincing.)

Anyway, the guy ran a little way ahead of me, but then he stopped and turned around. He walked backward a few steps, still apparently looking in my direction, and by now he was starting to register fairly high on the Creep-O-Meter. Thankfully there are always lots of people walking/jogging/pushing strollers around the Rose Bowl, so I wasn't too worried but I was definitely getting flustered. I stared at my iPod and hit the volume up and down. He waited til I was beside him and then I saw his lips move. He was obviously trying to talk to me. Dang.

I sighed mentally and took out my headphones. A strange conversation, reproduced below almost verbatim, ensued:

"Can I walk with you?" he asked.

"Why?" I asked.

"How old are you?" (Yes, that really was his answer to my question!)

"Too old." (I meant to say, too old for you, but like I said, I was flustered.)

"Nuh-uh."

"Yes."

"Really, how old are you?"

"That's none of your business."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Wow." Pause. "You look really young, lady."

And then he jogged away. The end.

Now, I'll give him full marks for bravery, as Prince Humperdink put it so eloquently once upon a time. But if I may make a suggestion to guys out there who want to ask a woman out that they have never met before: an introduction is a nice way to start. Especially if you have creeped her out by unabashed staring for several seconds.

Actually, it's a good idea to avoid the unabashed staring. Unless you're, say, Brad Pitt. (Hey, nobody said life was fair.)

Also, the question "How old are you?" is probably not the best pickup line in the world. Although I still haven't decided if it's worse than "Hey, do you play soccer? You have really strong legs", which is another one I've heard (and hated).

So, anyone else have a fun/weird/silly pickup line story? Feel free to share!

And Now For A Little Illlumination

Last Saturday evening, I went to Huntington Beach with a friend to check out the Red Bull Illume art installation just below the pier. It's a difficult exhibit to describe, and I am feeling lazy, so I hope you'll click on the link to see what I am talking about.

What impressed me most about the installation was the fact that people stood in line to see it, because it was set up on the sand and anyone who wanted to NOT stand in line could just mosey along as if they were about to go down to the water and then look at the exhibit instead. I mean, it's not like the exhibit was small—it's a Stone Henge-like setup of giant black monoliths containing illuminated enlarged photos of various athletes in various sports-related poses.

Whoa, I think I just described it. Oops. Sorry if you already went to the website to check it out!

Anyway, my friend and I did not want to create enemies down in the HB, so we patiently waited in line like everyone else to file in an orderly fashion past the monoliths. Well, she waited patiently. I only pretended to be patient, but in fact I really wasn't at all. I was pretty much the exact opposite, because there was a stiff breeze down on the beach and I was freezing, which always puts a drain on my patience resources. Moreover, I knew it was my own fault that I was freezing, because my friend had kindly offered me one of her sweatshirts but I, in my vanity, did not want to entirely cover up the new, cute shirt I was wearing and so had opted to go with my light, zip-up fleece... which I then zipped up all the way to my chin because I was so cold, thereby effectively hiding the new, cute shirt I was wearing. So not only was I impatient, I was also cranky because I was annoyed at myself for being silly.

And yes, I know I'm pathetic. Feel free to not inform me of that fact in the comments section of this blog.

Another thing that amused me about the exhibit was that, in spite of the generosity of Red Bull in handing out well-made brochures that featured representations of all the photos in the exhibit, people insisted on stopping the line so they could take pictures of those same photos. I didn't understand this at all. At one point my pretense of patience wore thin and I said to my friend, "Do they not realize the pictures are already printed in the book, so if they have the book, they have the pictures?"

"Oh, I'm sure they do," she said.

"Then why," I said in a voice that I was trying to keep from raising, "are they STOPPING ALL THE TIME TO TAKE PICTURES OF PICTURES THEY ALREADY HAVE?"

She shrugged. "It's part of the experience."

Maybe. But that didn't stop me from nearly blowing up when, at one particularly impressive photo, the entire group of people in front of us—who all seemed to know each other—halted and whipped out their digital cameras and camera-containing cell phones to take a picture of it. All I could think was, "Have you guys not heard of EMAIL? Do you ALL need to take a picture of the SAME THING?"

People, as Echo and the Bunnymen so succinctly put it once upon a time, are strange. (And please, please, please do not ask me who Echo and the Bunnymen are. For one thing, there's Google. For another, I just turned 32 and would greatly appreciate it if you would not make me feel older than I already do. Thanks!)

So anyway, if you are in Huntington Beach or heading down there sometime soon, check out Red Bull Illume. And here are a few tips to make your experience more enjoyable:

1) Go after sunset; it's not illuminated before then so it won't be very interesting. Black monoliths usually aren't.

2) Parking in HB sucks more often than not; just go for one of the lots. The one we parked in was about a block from the pier, and would accept validations from various places. (Of course, they were all places we didn't go to—the damage for several hours was about $10.)

3) Dress warmly.

4) Do NOT kill people who hold up the line so they can take pictures of the pictures that are on display as well as printed in the little books that Red Bull gives them FOR FREE.

5) Eat dinner first, so you don't end up starving while waiting in the line, like we did. There are plenty of restaurants around that area. If you do want to eat later, lots of them will still be open. We went to the Aloha Grill around 10:30pm, which has some great grub (try the teriyaki vegetables or the pulled pork) at great prices ($6-15 most entrees), and it's within walking distance of the pier. (However, I think they stopped serving entrees at 11pm.)

6) No, I am not being paid to endorse either Red Bull or Aloha Grill. I wish.

7) Wait, sorry. That last one wasn't a tip.