Read This

"The Uptight Seattlite" is seriously the most hilarious advice column ever. The holiday issue is particularly special. Make sure you read the second page as well.

http://www.seattleweekly.com/2007-12-12/diversions/ask-and-uptight-seattleite.php

A Very Rough Draft. (Feedback, Please)

My résumé may never land me a high paying job or a prestigious fellowship, but it made a damn good Halloween costume.

I normally don’t really do Halloween; I’ve never been into creative costumes. It was just a means to an end. I loved candy. I loved walking around on the crunchy leaves in the New England dark (a dark which was often cold and rainy, which is why my twin sister and I frequently dressed up as fishermen). As such, costumes were either practical (i.e., foul weather gear and lobster nose) or fantastically simple. It was not that my mom wasn’t creative. When I was a raccoon in the 2^nd grade play (I was always some random animal in the background) my mom made a costume out of black electrical tape and brown corduroys and made a cow costume for my sister cutting holes out of a white t-shirt to layer over a gray sweatsuit. She was not one of those mothers who superglued or stapled the merit badges onto our Girl Scout sashes, but she also was not into sewing or purchasing elaborate costumes. So when we were five, she helped us make our own costumes. We were trees—paper bags with leaves glued on. A few years later we were coneheads, which basically consisted of wearing cones made out of poster board.

But this year, I finally thought of that elusive clever costume. I was right in the middle of a job search, I was painfully aware of how all over the place my résumé was and how many random jobs I’d had. It would make the perfect costume. And best of all it was free (nice, being unemployed and all).

My most recent job was as a captain with Ride the Ducks of Seattle, so I wore my white short-sleeved captain’s shirt (complete with the shoulder bars) and a plastic yellow duck bill quacker around my neck. After duck season slowed down and there weren’t enough hours for all the guides, I had been with the photographers at the Ducks while I looked for another job, so I wore my SharpShooter nametag. A button and a “VOTE” wristband symbolized my three-month stint with WashPIRG running voter registration drives. A brown beanie was all I got to keep from my three weeks with UPS as a seasonal driver helper since they made us return everything with logo, but I taped a UPS label on it. Running around delivering packages last winter gave the motto “What Can Brown Do For You?” a new meaning for me.

Already I was pretty decked out, and this was only the jobs I’d held in the last year. For my summer job for six years I worked at Manchester Marine, a small boatyard in my hometown. To represent the concept of yachting, I wore my preppiest baby blue pants, a whale belt that I actually purchased on Martha’s Vineyard, and a pair of flip-flops. In my shirt pocket, I added a mechanical pencil from the Society of Industrial and Applied Mathematics, where I proofread applied math manuscripts for a year after I got back from backpacking through Europe, and a pen from The Dartmoor School, where I taught English literature for a few months this spring. These were the only two jobs I’d ever I’ve ever held where the attire was office casual.

It was amazing. I was a physical representation of my job experience.

I think it says something to be so versatile. I can drive an amphibious vehicle. I can file. I can think. I think more employers need to see the benefit of an eclectic résumé. I think we should go to interviews as 3D representations of our résumés. Would you hire the guy in a suit or the girl in the funny hat with the duck whistle around her neck? (OK, don’t answer that question.) But think about it. There is a benefit to being versatile. Jack of all trades, master of none. I wanted to use that line. A quack of all trades. But it never came up. No one really seemed to care what iI did when I wasn't driving ducks.

This Halloween I dressed as my résumé. Next year I’m going to wear the same costume and go as a liberal arts grad. We’re all prepared to do whatever we want. Some of us just take a little longer to figure out what that is, gathering some good stories, and a couple of funny hats, along the way.

Welcome to December.

So I am delinquent. I was going to write tonight, but somehow got sidetracked by many important things. Like looking for a drum set on Craig's List, trying to download episodes of 30 Rock (which is the funniest show since the now-defunct Arrested Development), and taking meaningless (but worse, inaccurate) quizzes on Brainfall.com. I think this might be the same site that decided Pam and Shaw were both cut out for state schools where they could go to keggers instead of classes. Shaw and Pam. Anyway, it told me that I:

1. Should live in New York City.
2. Should have majored in art.
3. Was a cockroach in my former life.
   
4. Am a mix between Carrie and Miranda on Sex in the City.
   

Well, I do have to agree with that last one. Anyway, it's been a while. What have y'all been up to?

Fifty Thousand Words

My New Office

Happy Thanksgiving.

Quantity II

For some reason, Louis, the head mechanic, was obsessed with the fact that I went to college. I think he mistakenly thought that I was the only duck captain to graduate with a four-year degree. He was also impressed by the fact that I went to a “good school” although he was never quite sure which one it was since no one out here has heard of Brown, unless they’re into that sort of thing. I think once he misheard my school as “Graham” (I guess I do have a mumbling problem) and I didn’t bother to correct him. This was even weirder, that he was impressed by me going to a school that he had never heard of because it didn’t exist.

He thought my captain name should be Sarah Bellum and my schtick should be that I was smart. While I appreciated the pun, I didn’t think the intelligence act would go over so well. First off, if I ever got any intelligent people on my duck, they would hate it even more. They would pity me, perhaps. (There is nothing worse than someone pretending to be intellectual, especially when they are driving an amphibious vehicle and wearing funny hats.) And everyone else would feel like I was being condescending.

It depended on the tour. I would literally say at least three times over the course of the 90-minute tour that the Space Needle was 605 feet tall. It was kind of a running joke that the Space Needle was so omnipresent and all. Although it’s better than the Liberty Bell. At least the Space Needle is somewhat impressive to look at. The Liberty Bell has ridiculous security. I almost got the mini-Swiss army knife taken away when I had made it through airline security with it on my keychain just a week before. And then at the end of the tour I would do a little quiz. Sometimes before I even asked the first question, someone would say “How tall is the Space Needle?” Sometimes I would actually ask the question and people would blurt out all kinds of incorrect answers. The funny thing is that I really wanted people to learn something about the city. I felt like I was letting them down if I didn’t share with them at least one fact they could throw around at their next cocktail party. They didn’t seem to care, though. I was really not sure what people were expecting when they bought tickets. I think I tend to project and so I imagined that everyone was like me, skeptical of the cheesiness. But that didn’t really make sense. If you knew what you were getting into, why oh why would you ever buy a ticket? So then I started thinking that they were just normal people looking for a normal tour of Seattle. But what I realized is that those people were on the Gray Line tours, the people who wanted to learn about the history and all that. People on the ducks, by and large, wanted to have fun. They wanted to buy the fun we were selling. They wanted me to make them dance to cheesy ‘70’s songs. It was kind of a paradox. (What do you call two doctors?)

Quantity

During the first two weeks of this month, I have probably done more writing than I have in the past three years. So it is somewhat ironic that November has the fewest blog posts so far. This is because the emphasis placed on sheer volume of words by NaNoWriMo has freed me from the paralyzing self-doubt that the blog sometimes inspires (is anyone going to want to read this crap?), but has also meant that I haven't produced anything to post.

Now, as you know, it's not like I have very high standards for these blog posts of mine. But (and ,again, you probably can't tell) I actually do edit them to some extent, as in it's not just the words that spew out of my brain unfiltered. I figured that I could wait until I go back and edit my "book" and then post excerpts. This could be years from now. So I thought I'd post a short unedited excerpt today to celebrate the halfway point and 25,000 words and me actually staying on track. (It will make the rest of my stuff almost look good in comparison.) Here goes.

my first duck ride

My parents were coming to visit for the weekend. In terms of tourist activities, Philadelphia is pretty much limited to a small selection of Birthplace of Democracy sights and museums and a giant clothespin. I thought something outside would be a nice. Since my parents love to sail and spend their entire summers on the water, I thought a duck boat tour would be great. We could drive past the requisite historical sites, and then have a nice water cruise. Granted the water cruise would be on the industrial Delaware River, cut off from the downtown area by I 95, but still. Why not?

I didn’t know that duck tours were the cheesiest things ever. In fact, I didn’t have much experience with tours. I wasn’t sure that I had ever even been on a tour before.[1] My family didn’t really do tourist traps. We went to Disneyland once when my sister and I were in fourth grade. We stayed at the Caribbean Beach Resort—it was one of the budget ones—we didn’t have breakfast with Mickey. We missed the Electric Light Parade because of what has become known as “The Automatic Flushing Toilet Incident.”[2]

I knew that all tours were pretty touristy—but I didn’t really mind that. Obviously you are riding around on a tour vehicle, you look like a tourist. The doubledecker bus tour went right past our second floor apartment on Antique Row. Occasionally I could overhear the moderated tone of the tour guide talking about the antique shops. (I wonder if at any point in the tour they explained what the deal with Philly and rows is. Not to mention the rows and rows of rowhomes—which were built skinny with floors stacked vertically because property tax was based on the width of the houses on the street—but everything in Philadelphia is on a row, not just the antique stores. We also have Jewelers’ Row, Boathouse Row, Restaurant Row, Fabric Row, etc. ) So my idea of a tour was quite tame. The guide tells you some fun facts about the city, points out the sights, right? It did not occur to me that a tour would in any way involve dancing the Macarena while driving down South Street.

---

[1] Actually, I have to take that back. I did go on a tour once but it was so bad that I think I’ve attempted to block it from my memory. The one tour I went on was when my sister and I were backpacking through Europe. We were the ultimate budget travelers, and it never occurred to us to spend money to see a city that we could walk around and see ourselves. Unless someone or something was physically preventing us from seeing something, we were not going to pay to see it. But when there was a free tour offered through the hostel in Berlin, we decided why the heck not. The problem with our tour guide is that he was trying to be funny. And it was painful. And I also thought it was vaguely inappropriate when he took us to see the apartment building that had been built on the site of Hitler’s bunker. There is nothing marking it because the government didn’t want it to become a shrine. Let’s just take people on tours and point it out instead. Then our tour guide attempted a comedic dramatic re-enactment of Hitler’s last hours. For some reason, it really annoys me when I don’t know whether or not something is true. Like Hitler could have had a German shepherd named Heinrich. Did he, or was this a joke?

[2] Basically what happened is that back in 1991, automatically flushing toilets were not commonplace. They were a new invention that apparently freaked my sister out because she started crying and when I went over to her stall to see what was wrong she slammed the door on my finger and the lock caught me on the knuckle. With me bleeding and Pam wailing, my mom decided there would be no Electric Light Parade for us, and we walked against the tides of tourists, the only ones heading toward the gates what with all the magical excitement happening inside the park.

In Case Anyone's Still Reading

This month I have decided to funnel any writing energy that I might have into a larger project of writing 50,000 words by the end of November. Caroline (the Young one) and I have decided to jumpstart our respective writing careers by taking part in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I'm not actually writing a novel, of course, since I suck at making things up. But I figured I could use the opportunity to force me to write something substantial, or at least get a lot of words out there to work with later.

You can track my progress here. If I am slacking off, please feel free to offer encouragement and/or threats since I really want to actually do this.

Thanks for Reading

And thanks for your comments. Just send me your mailing address and I'll mail your prize out within 3-5 business days.

It's November. Hope y'all had happy Halloweens. I'll write more later.

Guess.

This is a picture of me and Diana in our Halloween costumes. Diana is a cop. What am I? Prize to the first person who guesses correctly. Actually, I will give a prize to anyone who writes me a comment.

Job Search

• Best Euphemism I've Found Today: "Environmental Services Supervisor" = Janitor
  

Excuses

So this morning I wake up at a reasonable hour and sign into Gmail to get a start on my job applications. What I find is an email from Laura alerting me that for only $386 I could take a four-day vacation in Hawaii (and since I'm unemployed it's the perfect time to take advantage of this). A quick gChat with Pam and she has convinced me to help her try to get World Series tickets by constantly hitting refresh on this link. Seeing as vacuuming is more appealing than writing cover letters, Hawaii and the World Series have clearly won.

Preview of posts coming soon (hopefully):

• Ozzy Osbourne: Live (sort of)! in Concert
• Beautiful photos of Deception Pass (yes, AGAIN! you know you love it . . .)
• A Masshole makes a pilgrimage to the homeland
• Cecil's latest adventures in random employment

The Power of Positive Thinking

Clearly because of the non-blog color change (and with a little help from a few clutch hits from Pedroia and Youkilis), the Sox are headed to the World Series after coming back and winning three straight to clinch the American League pennant.



Believe.

Centered

It's Almost 3 pm

And what have I accomplished today?

• Made ramen
• Ate ramen
• Investigated how to make worm bin
• Thought about updating résumé
• Showered
• Made "To Do" list

How's the Job Search Going?

Thanks for asking. I'm so glad you did. Please, can we talk about what a failure I am? Although I did get an interview offer today. Ok, fine, so the subject of the email was "UPS is Hiring Seasonal Driver Helpers." Maybe it's a sign.

In other fantastic news, the Sox lost tonight, 4-2, despite that fact that Shaw is now on our side. This means they'll really have to step it up tomorrow night as the Indians now lead the series 2-1 and I'm starting to get nervous.

Go RED . . . Sox

The new palette was meant to evoke the Red Sox color scheme in support of our team as they take on the Indians in the American League Championship Series this week. After a disappointing loss last night in the 11th inning, which I did not witness because I was attending a cocktail party with other former Ivy Leaguers who are now all Microsoft employee twentysomethings instead of unemployed slacker twentysomethings, the series now stands at 1-1. The party that dragged me away from the TV in the 7th inning was hosted by Ginger, and it was quite impressive as she had made jelly cocktails, which are apparently the newest thing in LA restaurants these days. Basically you make a cocktail and add gelatin to create really classy Jell-o shots. I had a shot shaped glob of mojito (with mint leaves suspended) and a mudslide jelly parfait and a couple of baked brie and raspberry bites.

Yesterday I:

• Woke up (before 9!)
• Put away 1/2 of clothes.
• Washed dishes.
  
• Walked to library and PCC Fremont.
  
• Borrowed glue gun.
• Rode the 358.
  
• Ordered $30 pizza.
  
• Watched Red Sox kick ass (10-3) in ALCS opener.
  

Déjà Vu

I was on vacation for a week and a half and now I'm just unemployed. It's a familiar feeling since it has only been 8 months since my last bout of unemployment, but this time I am going to take advantage and use this opportunity to turn the Non-Blog into a full-blown actual blog. After all, being unemployed means that I will spend a lot of time sitting in front of the computer. And since I'll be wasting time by myself instead of working a ridiculous job, I'll have nothing interesting to write about. This means I can update the blog constantly with details of my excruciatingly boring existence, making it more like all those other blogs that made me hate the whole idea of blogs.

welcome to the blog.


Today I:

• Woke up. (yes, this is an accomplishment)
  
• Took clothes out of closet and piled in middle of floor.
• Used ratchet screwdriver to construct pre-made plywood shelving unit bought at Fred Meyer.
  
• Considered putting away clothes in new storage bins.
  
• Paid credit card bills online.
  
• Wasted time.
• Stared at extraordinarily messy room.
  
• Wrote bulleted list of daily activities without using articles to practice for résumé-writing.
  

Left Coast

Just got back to Seattle. Retrospective dispatches from New England coming soon. Apologies for the delay.

Right Coast

Things I have missed about home (and that I am now currently basking in):

Ice cream. Boston accents. Italian food. Sarcasm done right. Lobster. People who know who Paul Revere is. Jaywalking culture. Friends & family (awww).

Drunken Mini-Golf

Our team picture made it on to the Drinks on the Links website.

Deception Pass (again)

Love a good s'more. Like all good camping trips, this one involved way too much food and just enough alcohol.

I made some quality BBQ chicken over the campfire. How did I get here? Well, last week I made an appearance at a "Girls' Night" held by some of my female (semi) co-workers. And by that I mean while I was the only duck captain there, the rest of the people work at the Ducks, either for the "Sharpshooters" (who take pictures of the tourists before they get on the duck) or in the ticketbooth. Anyway, I got drunk and decided we should all go camping. Amazingly enough, it actually happened and on Monday night six of us girls and Travis headed up to Deception Pass, which you may remember as the site of basically all my camping experiences.

So one benefit of camping with three professional photographers is that there are probably over 500 photos of the two-day trip and most of them are already uploaded on MySpace, so I can post these pictures the day after I get back. Also, between the cameras, not a minute of the trip went undocumented, including the half hour or so I spent lighting a stick on fire and spelling out everyone's name in the air. (It took me several times to get "Tina" right, for some reason.)

There is a much better "Merry Christmas from all of us" shot that I'll post later when I get it, but this one is good enough for now. Me, Margot, Shauna, Tina, and Travis after packing up on Wednesday morning. I saw five shooting stars the night before.

This Is Amazing

Stoptheduck.com

OMG. (pronounced: oh-em-gee.)*
I need one of these t-shirts. Amazing.
http://stoptheduck.com/



*Yes, really. I lived with Pam for an entire summer.

FYI

I am going to start an on-going list.

Situations Where You Should Tip Your Tour Guide Whether or Not You Enjoyed Your Tour Guide's Overly Sarcastic Tour of Seattle

• Your four-year-old pees on the floor of the tour vehicle

Numbers for 8/18/07

Total number of $2 bills I've received as tips so far this season: 3
Number of dollars I am considering donating to MoveOn.org to get a t-shirt that says "Karl Rove ruined my country and all I got was this lousy t-shirt": 25
Ratio of Subways to McDonalds in Seattle: 2:1
Height of the Space Needle (in feet): 605
Number of horsepower it takes to turn the revolving restaurant at the top of the Space Needle: 1
How many times I played "L.O.P.O (the Y.M.C.A. in German)" today: 4
The amount of pleasure this gave me: unquantifiable
The amount of fun that the average passenger on my Duck took from same experience (on a scale of 1-10*): 2.29
Number of hits to the non-blog since 31 Jan 2007: 2,139
Estimated percentage of those hits that were me checking for comments: 57%



*For reference, 1 is as much fun as you might have during an average root canal and 10 would be attending a free outdoor concert in Freeport, ME featuring Brandi Carlile and the Indigo Girls

Sunset

There was an amazing sunset tonight but I didn't have my camera with me as I walked down the hill to Blue Moon Burgers. My plan was to get a burger & beer and sit there and read for a while since I'd spent the past four nights hanging out in my room by myself and figured that if I was going to hang out by myself again tonight I needed to get out of the house at least.

The plan was going well. Like I mentioned before, I caught a glimpse of an awesome sunset. The cheeseburger was good, they had Sam Adams Summer Ale on tap, and I was sitting outside reading the Seattle Weekly when I saw that The Be Good Tanyas were playing at the Zoo (like a mile from my house) tonight. There was no showtime listed, and at this point it was 8:37 pm, but I thought if I ran home, jumped on my bike, I could make it for the second half at least. So I chug the rest of my beer, speedwalk home, look it up online and the zoo shows start at 6 pm and end "no later than 8:30 pm." Damn, now I am so disappointed about having missed it.

This photo is from camping trip #1 to Deception Pass.

Yet Another Employee Review

CAPT SPARROW (CECILIA)

AUGUST EVALUATION

8/8/07 WED 4:30PM

OVERALL:

Every tour of Capt Sparrow’s gets better and better. She did it again. In past tours, her strongest asset was her likeability and her weakness was a lack of levity. She has make great gains. She added a little more humor, cheerleading and music placement for clapping, dancing, etc. As her confidence grows, so does her tour. Very well done.

GOOD STUFF:

Info was accurate, complete and delivered in a fresh and interesting way. Her energy is going up and up. Her music placement is on the money as are her music choices. Good baseball bit. Dry, but funny humor throughout. Great interaction with child on the water.

Great recap near end. Strong close.

STUFF TO WORK ON:

The biggest thing is the open. It was humorous, but a little low energy. It should explode with energy and noise. No Underground info given in Pioneer Square. Probably an oversight.

ACTION PLAN:

• Concentrate on an energetic, fun and noisy open.
• Congratulate yourself on steady and effective progress. Well done.

Bumper Stickers

The other day I saw a white van with a bumper sticker on the back that said "One Less Fixed Gear." It was amazing.

KAYAKING

is my new favorite thing.

Rabbit

I'm kind of in the habit now of posting every night, so I guess I'll keep doing it for the time being. Especially because I have nothing else to do right now since Pam is buying a plane ticket (which obviously includes verbally listing the pros and cons of each flight option) and I don't have a TV.

It's been almost a year now since I've been without television. All in all, it's been good and I think I've definitely read more than I would have. But I've also watched more DVDs, which requires the same lack of brain activity but in a weird way, watching TV alone makes me feel more connected to the world then any other activity I would do alone in my room, which is how I spent a large percentage of my evenings over the last year. I was thinking the other day that it might be fun to watch Will and Grace or Friends sometime. Those were the two shows that I completely overdosed on last year when I watched far too much TV and despite having access to way too many channels on DirectTV, there was usually nothing else on other than reruns of those shows. In fact, I once had a dream that was a Will and Grace episode. I also once wrote an Indigo Girls song in my dream.

I realized that I am essentially living in a dorm room right now. I don't usually realize that I am not living in a real house or apartment because I am living in a real house in the sense that Diana and Kelli upstairs have a normal house with multiple rooms and even a washer/dryer. But I live in a room in the basement, so it's actually weirder than living in a dorm room or a studio because while it is not attached to the real house, it's also not in an apartment building. I don't really think about this except when the pizza delivery guy comes (which happens frequently since part of living in a room means I don't have much of a kitchen) because the "front door," which is like six inches away from my bed, opens up to show four bikes, and bureau, and a microwave and mini-fridge, which are all things that are normally found in separate rooms.

My days off are starting to follow a definite pattern: wake up, bike to library, bike to bank, feel sketchy about depositing wads of ones that I take out of a ziploc bag, buy cupcake, bike to Golden Gardens, lie on beach and read, consume cupcake, run into freezing Puget Sound, dunk, run out, read some more and deepen my hot sunglasses tan, bike home.

The reason this post is called "Rabbit" is because it rhymes with "habit."

Random

So today is the last day of July. Well, technically it is now the first day of August, but I need to post the final post for post-a-day July. I don't think August will be a repeat. In fact, I might take a little break from the blog and work on producing a zine. Haha, I just realized how ridiculous that sounded. Seriously, though, I think it would be fun. I'll keep you posted.

A choice bit of dialogue from my last tour today:

[Context: I have just played the song "Tequila,"* which is my favorite one to quack along to. Yes.]

Adam (a very talkative/obnoxious twelve-year old British boy who sort of reminded me of one of the kids in Willy Wonka, or maybe a combination of several): But isn't tequila a beer?

Me (Capt. Quack Sparrow): No. It's a liquor.

*For those of you not familiar with the song, it is a catchy instrumental piece with a single lyric--"tequila" yelled after each chorus.


But as a P.S. Inquiring minds (Alisa) want to know, who is Bob?
Well, he was the random man that was hanging out at the sailboat rental place who happened to have a boat that he didn't like to sail by himself (which we assumed was because it was a larger boat that would be difficult to manage especially on a windy day, but it was really because he didn't really know how to sail it--not that he told us this, but it was a fun fact that we found out as we were rigging the boat with the first clue being that tying off lines on a cleat was clearly not a motion that was second-nature for him.)

Good Night

Maybe I'll write a real blog post in August, which is almost here. Craziness.

More Later

Sailboat rental: $75
Kayak rental: $25
Sailing with Bob: FREE

Today Involved

Go-karts, a 6-mile "bike ride" that mainly consisted of an ice cream cone & cupcake, a concert in the park (The Fray @ Marymoor), crab cakes, drinks at a bar named Vito's that actually had red leather booths and (apparently*) a mosaic of a naked woman in the men's room, dancing at R Place, and pizza at Hot Mama's.

Tomorrow will (hopefully) involve: kayaks.

There are only two more days in post-a-day July.


*according to Luke.

Yes, This Is My Post

and this is Brandi Carlile.

One Thing

Happy Birthday, Laura!

Day Off

The one objective I had for the day was to lose my sunglasses . . . tan, but as I lay in the sun on the beach at Golden Gardens, enjoying the beautiful view of the Olympic range (I don't think the beach/mountain thing is going to ever get old . . .) and eating cupcakes, I realized I could either read a book or just lie there and think thoughts. Did you know that Seattle sells more sunglasses than any other city in the country?

Not Much II

Biking back from trivia tonight, I can see the Space Needle hiding behind Queen Anne Hill. I can only see the top glowing, like an illuminated cupcake.

Cupcake Royale has delicious cupcakes. When I went to the one in West Seattle, we were just killing time while waiting to eat at the best sushi restaurant ever (and can we just point out that their website is www.sushiwhore.com) and so I just got an Italian soda. There's a Cupcake Royale location in Ballard, too, and Ballard is my new favorite place to hang out, so I went there the other day. Now usually I don't get too excited about cupcakes, but these mini-cupcakes were definitely worth the $1 I paid for each of them. Seattle might not have good ice cream and might also be lacking in quality pizza joints, but the baked goods are amazing.

And the library system is awesome, too, but I think I have already mentioned that. I heart libraries.

Not Much

• The harmonica on the last track of Ryan Adams' new album (Easy Tiger) reminds me of Brokeback Mountain.
• At the gas station this evening a middle-aged man sees me get off the duck and says, "I thought girls weren't supposed to drive those things."
• I am too tired to write a blog post about either of these things.

Mount Si

Apparently it is the most hiked trail in Washington, but it wasn't overly crowded today by any means. Not sure if the rain kept the crowds down, or if, having grown up hiking in the Whites, my perception of a crowded mountain is skewed.

"Mount Si is like the Disneyland of Seattle hiking."
"It's a great hike if you don't mind hiking with half of Seattle."
--NWSource review

Nonetheless, it's been a while since I've hiked and it was amazing to be out again. Highlights of the day included scrambling up the "haystack" at the summit and eating at Twede's Diner post-hike, which apparently was the diner they used in the TV show "Twin Peaks," which I've never seen.

Cracker Jacks

The Cracker Jacks' box says "Tastes as good as you remember." For some reason this makes me really sad. Like when I see run-down amusement parks. And I think the combination of sad and Cracker Jacks makes me miss my grandma, too.

I like how MySpace now has a "status update" section where you can choose your mood from a pull-down list. Not that anyone ever looks at my MySpace page, and I think only a very small percentage of my 44 "friends" would actually care whether I was feeling "melancholy" or "nerdy" or "pissed off." But for some reason, I really enjoy filling out surveys and taking multiple choice tests to determine my personality, and this is the same idea. I like having my options artificially narrowed for me, as if by choosing from a set list of adjectives to describe my emotional state, I can actually reduce complex feelings into something more manageable. The options range from "thirsty" to "morose" to "happy" to "quixotic" to "recumbent," but for some reason the list does not include "angsty." I mean, come on, MySpace is not only an outlet for but also a source of teen angst and so I can only imagine that at any given point in time, over 87% of MySpace users are feeling angsty. I choose "nostalgic," which for some reason is represented by a frowny-face emoticon with question marks floating above its head.


I think it's interesting that nostalgia has been so clearly designated as a negative emotion. I also think it's interesting that I need to look up one of the mood choices because I don't know what the word means. So apparently "exanimate" means "inanimate or lifeless." It seems dumb that "inanimate" and "exanimate" are synonyms while "internal" and "external" are antonyms.

Two Things

1) Happy Birthday, Shaw!


2) And this is for Tom.

Ha.

Magic

Last night I went to a bar and this was this old man in a very faded tux with a colorful vest (also faded) doing magic tricks. He made crumpled up dollar bills go through plastic cups and then had a can of Rainier beer appear beneath one of them. Then he did one where he had us all write our names in Sharpie on a card and then he threw the cards on the floor and the one with our names ended up on the ceiling, where it remains. I am still amazed just thinking about this.

(Sidenote (or is that redundant since the fact that it's in parentheses already means it's a parenthetical remark (read: sidenote):"They're illusions, Michael. Tricks are what whores do for money . . . or cocaine." Ahh, Arrested Development. Best show ever.)

Review #2

Fortunately today's blog post has been provided for me, compliments of the fact that I have an employee performance review like every other week. Here's official review #2.

CAPT SPARROW (CELIA)

JULY EVALUATION

TUES 7/17/07 NOON

OVERALL:

Capt Sparrow has a quality tour with energy and humor. She has a comfortable charm and delivers her info with enthusiasm and freshness. Her music technique is smooth and she has added hats and props. The next step, as mentioned before, is a stronger sense of levity and wackiness. This can be done with strongly encouraging passengers to make more noise; sing, clap, cheer at passing Ducks, etc. It’s really the only soft spot in an otherwise strong tour. Progress, however, is being made. Good job.

GOOD STUFF:

Her open speech is energetic, succinct and fun. She sets the tone. Her enthusiasm while talking about POIs is contagious. She had great jokes about Cowgirls, Inc and Seattle’s status as the nation’s leading library card-holders (“yep. We know how to party.”) Excellent music placement. Great Pioneer Square info. She previewed POIs well keeping people’s interest. She has a natural, dry joke delivery. She earned laughs throughout. She’s very likeable.

STUFF TO WORK ON:

Encourage more noise. For example, yelling out Tequila, “cha-ching” for every Starbucks, cheering when passing Ducks, clapping and singing along with more songs, etc. She should add at least three more songs. Recommend on 1^st Ave after Utilikilts to SAM and two or three places on the water where music was lacking. Play Sponge Bob for the kids, plus Love Boat, etc. Lose the unapproved song while approaching water. Remember, the tour is geared for families. Repair or replace the cowboy hat.

ACTION PLAN:

• Make above adjustments right away.
• Pat on the back for improvements thus far.

For all of you wondering, the "unapproved song" was Modest Mouse "Float On," which I love for several reasons. First, Modest Mouse is from Seattle. Second, I play it right before we "float" on the water. Third, it's a quality song unlike, let's say, "Love Shack" or friggin' "Sponge Bob," which is now stuck in my head after just writing it. But according to Dean, "Float On" does not pass the three F test: Family, Familiar, and Fun. And to that I say, I know another word that starts with F . . . yeah. Fuck your F test. But of course I don't say this, because that would decrease my "likeability" score.

And, in conclusion, can I just say, good God, I was pictured on the front page of the Seattle Times wearing a fucking plastic viking hat. I have no shame left. I have reached far beyond what I initially though my "wackiness" potential was, folks. We do not get any wackier unless we have consumed several alcoholic beverages, which would impede the other part of my job-- driving a tank through the narrow hilly streets of downtown Seattle.

Ridiculous: A 2 Part Series

A.
A middle-aged woman disembarking the Duck after my first tour tells me, "You're funny." And then she pauses for a second, makes a weird face, and adds,"Kind of like Ellen Degeneres."

B.
I'm just pulling out of the ticketbooth to take the Duck back to the Nest after my last tour and I'm stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic three cars across at the first stoplight out of the parking lot. I'm attempting to check my voicemail, when I look over to my left and see a couple, probably mid-thirties, in a Jeep. The woman, very blond surfer-looking type, is trying to get my attention and when I look over, she starts talking to me.

"We met your husband in Cabo."

This is probably the most bizarre thing that anyone has said to me. I don't know quite what to do with it.

"Really?" I say. I think that she must be joking, but I have no idea what the joke is.

Now, I wish I had Kate's talent for reconstructing dialogue, because I am definitely not doing this justice, but it went sort of like this:

"You know Candy and Jim, right?"

I think I give her a blank stare. I don't, in fact, know anyone named Candy and/or Jim, and definitely not in that combination.

"Your husband-- his name is Chris?"

"Um, I don't have a husband." I figure it is time to get this out on the table. I've never imagined that I would ever have to spell this out for someone.

Anyway, at this point it gets kind of awkward. I sort of pull ahead in the traffic line, and the woman looks really confused. And she's turning to the guy driving, talking to him, like she can't believe what is happening. Like how can I not be Candy and Jim's friend Chris' wife.

What?

summer night--
"how to haiku" book
rests on bed

Deception Pass

This weekend was the third time I've been there in the past three weeks. Which is sort of ridiculous. But you can see how it could happen.

Camping

So no post tonight. But a campfire. Sweet.

Polo

So it just happened to come up on my first tour today that I was from Manchester-by-the-Sea. At the beginning of every tour I always start out by asking if there's anyone from out of town (and then when almost everyone raises their hands I say with mock surprise, "Wow. Almost the whole Duck. That's exciting. We rarely get tourists on these things so it's always kind of fun when we do.") and then I ask people where they're from. No one had mentioned that they were from Massachusetts. But then by the stadiums when I asked what baseball teams my passengers cheered for (as you can see, I like to make my tour interactive. This mostly backfires, much like it did when I would use the Socractic method exclusively back in the day when I was a pseudo-teacher), I heard "Red Sox" and that lead to a brief back-and-forth when we established we were all from Massachusetts but apparently at the beginning of the tour they had said New Jersey because they were with a group and half of them were from NJ or maybe they moved there recently or something or other. So I'm like, "Oh, I see, you're from MA but you're embarrassed, so you tell people that you're from New Jersey instead." I thought this was a funny thing to say.

Anyway, in the midst of all this, I mentioned that I was from Manchester. After the tour the couple gets off and they look like they could have walked straight off the Manchester Yacht Club launch-- sweater around the neck and all. And the man asks me if I grew up in Manchester and if so, did I know the Littles? When he added that they were "polo people" (which was highly unnecessary because I knew that whether it was polo or yacht club or Essex County club, anyone that this man would claim as a friend was running in one those concurrent circles that in no way intersected with my life, except that I might have washed one of their friend's yachts), I wanted to say, "No, sorry, I don't think I know them. I went to public school."

Can't Punk Out 2 Days in a Row

So I guess I'll have to think of something to write tonight. This hasn't been going as well as I hoped.

Can we just talk about how pretty Vancouver is instead?

No Post Today

I can't think of a single thing to write. [It's too hot.] And now it's tomorrow anyway.

Lists (3-2-1)

Fun facts I've learned from people on my tours
--Palm trees are not actually trees. They are the largest members of the grass family.
--An elephant's tooth weighs more than a bowling ball.
--Mel & Linda got engaged at the Old Spaghetti Factory.

Things people say to me with enough frequency that I really should come up with a witty response
--When I get on the duck, they ask me if I have a ticket.
--"Are you from Canada?"

Other
--The other day one woman couldn't believe that I was too young to have ever seen Love Boat and she asked me how old I was. When I said 25, she looked surprised. I must look older when wearing a child-sized plastic Viking hat.

Vancouver

Some days you don't feel like writing and you are glad that blogging is a multimedia endeavor.

Short Rant

I need a job that makes me want to write when I get home, not shut my mind off completely because I am so sick of my own voice that even hearing thoughts in my head is too annoying. But I have realized that this job is the one that I need to write about because, seriously, I am going to write a book this time because of all the ridiculous jobs* I have had this is by far the most ridiculous and there are so many ridiculous things that happen on a daily basis that it would be a shame to waste the opportunity to write a ridiculous book about the experience. So the motivation behind July post-a-day is to force me to get over this and write when I get home from work, which obviously didn't work today, but I think I just needed to get that out of my system.

*This is what my resume from the past two years looks like: proofreading applied math manuscripts, transporting customers to a sketchy floating restaurant, standing on a college campus with a "VOTE" armband and a clipboard, being a "driver's helper" for UPS, and teaching high school boys how to write essays at a fake school.

Almost Famous

"There is nothing cooler than an ill-fitting plastic viking hat."
-Capt. Quack Sparrow

And now, thanks to a front page article in the Seattle Times today, the world can see.

Showdown

Mr. Chase's House vs. My Current Residence:
Worth paying $75/per month less for the new place? You Decide.


ROUND ONE: Exterior



















ROUND TWO: Welcome . . .






















ROUND THREE: Interior


















FINAL ROUND: Bathroom

7.07: A Post a Day

Keeps the dr. away.

So daily posts in July. This is my goal.

And this is not a blog.

Spellbound

The movie was hilarious-- the kids because they were cute (and heartwarmingly nerdy) and the parents because they were, for the most part, completely crazy. Real people are so funny. Seriously, I laughed out loud a lot more than I thought I would watching a documentary about spelling bee contestants.

And for those of you wondering about the unrelated but identically titled book I am also reading, an interesting fact. You know when they use "ye" instead of "the" as in "Ye Olde Candy Shoppe" or a Seattle favorite "Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe" (an interesting mix of tacky souvenirs and shrunken heads)? [The sad part, given that this is a post about spelling, is that I just tried about 17 different combinations of e's and i's before I finally got rid of the red line under souvenirs.] Well, it's actually supposed to still be pronounced "th" and not "y," as "ye" was ye olde second person. In fact, it came from a symbol (called "the thorn") that used to also represent the "th" sound, and since it looked kind of like a y, that's why they used it.

Kind of Funny

So this is a fun game that Max posted as a mySpace bulletin, that I thought I'd share with you all in case you're bored (which you probably are because after all you are checking my blog). I erased her answers and put my own and it was really freaky because we both got the same song for "What is 2+2?" (We Will Rock You).

RULES:
1. Put your iTunes, Windows Media Player, etc. on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS.

IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY" YOU SAY?
Brooklyn Stars

HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE YOURSELF?
Satisfied Mind

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Damn Love Song

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
The World at Large

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
Jacksonville

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Tragedy

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Say You Love Me

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Out of Your Mind

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT OFTEN?
You're Missing

WHAT IS 2 + 2?
We Will Rock You

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Hey Jane

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Angel from Montgomery

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
More Love

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Favorite

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Clap Your Hands!

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Rock N Roll

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Old Time's Sake

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST??
Sugar Boy

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?
La Tortura

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Bright Future in Sales

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Forever Young

Part II

These photos were taken on the ferry ride out to San Juan Island.

The Oregon Coast

Got my photos developed and I'll post the promised San Juan/Vancouver shots in my next few installments of why I fucking love the northwest. But first these ones at the beginning of the roll that I took when I went camping in April on Cape Lookout (near Tillimook).

A Little Late Now

I just took an informative quiz called "What should you have done after high school?" Apparently I should have done one of two things. Of course, I didn't do either.

They also had one called "What college major are you/should you be?" It was obviously geared towards those in college/about to go to college and not those 3 years out of college retrospectively evaluating major life decisions, but I thought I'd take it anyway as it might validate my decision to major in English, even though my decision to attend an Ivy League school had been way off base. But no, apparently my choice of concentration was also misguided.

Miscellanea

• I have two items currently checked out of the library titled "Spellbound." One is a recent documentary about spelling bees and the other is a book about the "surprising origins and astonishing secrets of English spelling" ("Why doesn't 'cough' rhyme with 'dough'? Why don't we spell words the way they sound? Is there a rhyme and reason to the English language?") Yeah. I'm not a nerd at all.
  
• Thanks to Lindsay, the original wacky hat is now back in my posession. Now, how to work Uncle Sam into my duck tour?
• For all of you keeping tabs, the Speedster's odometer now reads 1375.9.
  
• Emily Saliers (1/2 of the Indigo Girls, for all of you who aren't quite as obsessed) jogged right past me the other day as I was showing my parents the Seattle waterfront.
  

Two Rolls of Film

And all of the pictures are going to look the same--mountains, ocean, sky. Can't get enough.

San Juan Island & Vancouver.
I'll post pictures when I get the film developed. I should get a digital camera.

The 'Rentals Are Here!

Ducking Out of Work

So I called out sick for work tomorrow because I sound like a frog, not a duck.

Sorry, this strikes me as funny because I just got back from dinner at Becca & Emily's new apartment on Capitol Hill, and while they make very good food (a Chinese tofu & brown rice dish where one of the letters is either a "p" or a "b" and homemade mint chocolate ice cream), they also make very bad animal puns (somehow a slightly askew lid on a mug reminded them both of steaming porpoises).

Another Duck Day

After my third tour today I'm hanging out in the ticket booth when Ryan (the operations manager) says to me, "So, do you remember on your 12:30 tour . . ." and I freeze, thinking he's going to tell me that I hit another car without noticing. ". . . there was a tall guy with blond hair," he continues. Now I'm thinking the guy complained or something-- maybe he was offended by one of my jokes or maybe he had his hand out the window and lost an arm when we turned a corner, I don't know. "Yeah, did anyone tell you who he was?" I didn't remember anyone on my second tour except for the twenty or so little girls with blond hair and freckles who all looked like sisters, or at least cousins. Well, there were probably only eight or so, but they were all wearing pink and it was a little overwhelming. My tour is not generally a hit with small children, especially when they ask me questions, like "What does that red button do?" and I say that it makes us fly. Yeah, don't ever tell a six year old boy that the Duck has a magical flying button. Anyway, I digress. Apparently the father of several of these blond girls was someone who used to play for the Mariners. That's one of the downfalls to being a Seattle tour guide that moved to Seattle approximately three months ago. I had no idea who he was, which is probably good. I can't imagine having a famous person on my tour. It's hard enough entertaining regular people.

So then I see Dean-o (the critic/comedian) hanging around right before my next tour and I'm hoping he's not riding on my tour yet again. Well, he's not, but it's worse. He has told his Australian friends that they should take my tour and he tells me I should do a joke about how I could move the steering wheel to the other side. Of course, I try to switch it up a little and so I end up saying something about how I like to have Australians riding on the duck because if I ever get pulled over for driving on the wrong side of the road I can just say, "Sorry, officer, see they're from Australia and I just wanted to make them feel at home." Wow. Only after typing that up do I fully realize how awful that "joke" is; even if I hadn't completely butchered the delivery I'm sure I still would have got the same blank stares. Oh well.

Why I Love My Mom

Her most recent envelope of newspaper clippings and other assorted reading material included: an article called "The Shaker Spirit: Hands to God," an EnvironmentMassachusetts newsletter,
an interview with a woman who wrote a biography on Edith Wharton, the latest Boldly Brown fundraising newsletter, "Souls of the new machine: how our reliance on the online universe can endanger the vital tool of narrative," and an obituary from the Globe of a pioneering lesbian journalist.

The Sea(/Land) Adventures of Captain Quack

We begin with Captain Quack's first official employee performance evaluation. Obviously quite different than the ones she received at SIAM, with the one exception being that she gets points for being "smart," which kind of makes her a little sad.

CAPT. SPARROW (CELIA)

Sun 5/20/07 11am

OVERALL:

Capt. Sparrow is charming and knowledgeable. She delivers her information and jokes concisely and with a good attitude. She’s smart with a dry sense of humor and it works. It definitely time, however, to take her tour to the next level with more levity, wackiness and fun. Her tour is sorely lacking fun music cues, sound effects and props. Adding these elements to her tour immediately is well within her abilities. She must do so to keep the tour from getting too dry. Adding these elements right away would put her in the running for Rookie of the Year. She has the talent.

GOOD STUFF:

Capt. Sparrow knows her facts and makes them interesting. When she uses music cues, she uses them well. She delivers jokes well and received several out-loud laughs. She has a natural smile in her voice and a bright attitude which “sells” the city and its attractions. On the way back to base she had the entire Duck singing and dancing to YMCA.

STUFF TO WORK ON:

There is a dynamic and entertaining captain living within Capt. Sparrow dying to get out, but her slight shyness gets in the way. When she decides to “flip the switch,” it‘ll be fun for everyone…including her. She must take full command of her tour. Energy up, volume up, props, hats, music, etc. Her energy lagged on the water portion. She was much too far away from the Sleepless house. Below is an action plan that would go a long way towards fixing all issues immediately and easily.

ACTION PLAN:

Before next tour--

1) Buy three wacky hats.

2) Write down three additional places for passenger interaction. E.g. clapping, singing, dancing, etc.

On NEXT tour--

--Add above two elements

--kick energy up 2 notches

--use mic for open speech

--Increase speaker volume 2 notches

--Become a cheerleader for the tour by encouraging quacking, waving, clapping…especially while pulling out of driveway and returning.

OK, so this is definitely a better review than I was expecting considering he rode on my first tour the morning after hitting the car and I was freaking out about potentially hitting another car unwittingly. But, like Kenli* said, hitting cars with these things does happen all the time so it really isn't that big of a deal. Except that it's completely nerve-wracking to realize that you took a chunk out of someone's fender and didn't even notice.

So I did actually buy two funny hats (and, at Pam's suggestion, used my bike helmet as well, bringing up the wacky hat number to the required three). Interestingly enough, I purchased these hats at the same party store where only a few months ago (or maybe ten), I purchased a gigantic Uncle Sam hat for my first ever PIRG voter registration event back when we were training in Seattle (wish I still had that one; it was the definition of wacky hat). This party store just happens to be just up the road from my other job, oddly enough. Now, the wacky hats don't seem to be increasing my tips at all like promised, but that's ok since I spent a grand total of $5 on a child-size plastic viking helmet and a straw cowboy hat. Such a deal.

But back to my third evaluated tour (basically one evaluation per weekend so far). This was probably my worst tour ever. My energy was at an all-time low since a week of being generally hungover and sleep deprived (oops) while working 10-12 hour days is not the way to prepare you for a day of tour guiding, especially when you have your first 10 o'clock tour of the season. So I show up and have about 2 minutes before my first tour because Louis (the mechanic) wanted to put air in the tires before I left the duck nest. So I had figured that Dean(o) (the reviewer, and also apparently a semi-famous comedian and commercial actor who apparently would be nationally famous by now, according to my boss and his best friend, if weren't for the drug troubles he got himself into a few years ago. I got to hear all this the other day while getting a ride back to the duck nest in my boss's BMW after the previously mentioned hitting the car with the duck incident) would probably be on my first tour since that's just my luck, and of course he was. So it got off to an okay start, but really all I wanted to do was take a nap, and so naturally I felt like I was putting everyone to sleep, which is not a good feeling. (Although no one on the tour actually feel asleep. That didn't happen until my third tour when one girl did literally take a nap for the last 45 minutes).

I don't really remember how the middle of the tour was, but my mic started cutting in and out, so basically out of my 3 jokes that actually consistently get laughs, the mic shut off in the middle of two of them and I forgot to tell the third one. But I do clearly remember the end of the tour when I got lost yet again. We were already behind schedule since we're now taking a new route back over the Fremont Bridge, and not only does this bridge supposedly hold the world record for most frequently opened drawbridge (it averages 35 times per day), but even when it's actually down you have to wait at what has to be the world's longest stoplight. This was the first time I had done this route since it had been undergoing construction for the past year so we haven't been able to use it until this weekend. I remember Ryan (the manager), when describing the new route, telling me to just take a right at Buca di Beppo, so I did that. Now unfortunately there is a hard right and a soft right at the corner of Buca di Beppo and Broad St. and of course I took the wrong one, and obviously there was no easy way out once I realized my mistake. I could see the Space Needle, and we were so close, but it wouldn't let me take the right turn so we had to do a ten-minute loop around the crappy semi-downtown area (although it was at least somewhat more scenic than the crappy semi-downtown area just south of the city since we did get to swing by Lake Union again for a final look). Ha. At this point I again was running out of cheesy 70's music and I was so stressed about trying to find a way out of the situation, afraid we'd actually never get back to the parking lot, which we finally did about 3 minutes before my next tour.

Now the day did get better after that when I had the chance to drink my Trader Joe's orange energy drink and power shake (21 grams of protein! and for a mere 59 cents more you could even get 35 grams). In fact, the highlight of my week was on the next tour when I got my first laugh at one of my jokes. Now since I've been doing this for about four weekends now, I've probably told this joke at least 23 times before and not once has it gotten as much as a chuckle of recognition. Now according to the principles of show business (which I am becoming more familiar with than I'd like), I should have cut this joke long ago. But despite the fact that it's not funny, I like it and I knew one day someone would laugh at it, or at least maybe someone would laugh at something their friend in the seat next to them said at about the same time that I delivered the joke, which is probably what happened today.

So sometimes I'll see kayakers out on the lake and point them out. "Now over on the right (this is my favorite tour guide phrase)," I say, "you'll see some kayakers. There are a lot of kayakers out here on Lake Union and they're a lot of fun, but they're only worth one point." Now this joke is pretty bad itself, but generally there'll be a few people on the Duck that get it. So I should just quit while I'm (sort of) ahead, but of course I don't so I usually follow it up with: "Now there are usually a lot of rowing shells out here as well, and they're even better because they're worth 8.5 points. Yeah, that's right, you only get a 1/2 point for the coxswain."

Anyway, I'll post this next review when I get it. Although it probably won't be too harsh because Deano is actually a very nice guy who keeps telling me to stop being so hard on myself and to not beat myself up. He said if that was my worst tour, then I'm doing fine. Although I keep worrying that he's going to be disappointed when he realizes that maybe I actually don't have that "inner wackiness" that he is expecting to see when I get over my "slight shyness." Ha. I am definitely weird, maybe even "quirky," and I can definitely be a jackass (especially when I'm drunk), but as for "wacky" that's one adjective I've never found applied to me. I don't like funny hats. I don't even like dressing up on Halloween. I mean, I actually drive a Duck and on top of that, I dance to the YMCA while doing so. What more do they want? Already my self-respect level goes down in inverse proportion to the increase of my tour guide pep level, and if it weren't for the ironic detachment that I cling to, I would have nothing left.


*Kenli, I want to thank you for your recent comments, and I hope that you didn't actually think I was disappointed in your lack of commentary, since I am not that much of an asshole and am honored that you actually check the blog at all since I do realize that you are currently living in rural Kenya.

What Fruit Are You?*

I figure I'm qualified to teach study skills; not only do I know how to study, but I also used to date a professional study skills instructor. Furthermore, study skills as a concept is complete bullshit.

Anyway, I'm teaching a study skills class, and not only do we have to go over how to manage a long-term project and keep a planner (um, writing down your assignments legibly is a good first step for both), the curriculum also covers turning Evan into a "highly effective teen." We do this by going through The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Teens. This is hilarious.

First off, it's a self-help book. Second off, it's one of those cheesy overly self-referential "yo, teens, I speak your language and I know you're superskeptical of me cause I'm an adult but I used to be a teen just like you who hated to read blah blah blah" self-help books. Now I used to just make Evan read the chapters so we could have brief discussions and then check off the various habits, but that was boring because I just sat there and watched him read, or really pretend to read. And I could sense that 7 Habits was full of gems, so I decided it would be better if I read it aloud, like storytime. The only problem is I can't keep a straight face reading about 86% of the text. But the best was the other day.

We had just done a little exercise for Habit #6 ("Synergize") about different personalities. (For some reason, I love taking multiple choice tests that tell me what type of person I am.) Anyway, each of the four personality types was labeled with a fruit (doesn't that seem more appropriate for 7 Habits of Highly Effective Toddlers?) Evan was an orange while I was just slightly more grape than melon. As a grape, apparently I find it difficult to give exact answers. Evan agreed that assessment was right on. (He also has me for English and Spanish class.) Anyway, I would like to share the paragraph that followed this exercise in its entirety since I don't think paraphrasing will do it justice.

So it's talking about how everyone is different (humanity is a veritable fruit salad) and then:

That's why you shouldn't feel so bad if a member of the opposite sex (whom you are just dying to go out with) doesn't go for you. You may be the most luscious and mouth-watering grape around, but he or she may be looking for a banana. And no matter how much you want a change of fruit, you're a grape and they want a banana.

WHAT?


*I am obviously the most luscious and mouth watering grape around.

Barbeque

I had a BBQ, and despite an early carbon monoxide threat, it was a success. There were probably 20 people total, which is pretty good considering that I don't really know anyone here in Seattle. So that was fun and we made s'mores and drank some beers. And I have an 18 pound bag of charcoal, so there will be more barbeques. Meaning y'all should come visit.

And thanks Shaw for commenting =)

We Value Your Feedback

OK, so I like comments. They're like crack but not able to be detected by the employer drug testing program that I happen to be enrolled in. And I will basically do anything for a comment. (I would say I'm a comment-whore, but I hate expressions like that, kind of like how I hate when people say "shit-ton.") For example, in my second-to-last post, I shamelessly threw in a concluding sentence that had absolutely nothing to do with the rest of what I had written (like I said, my new writing style is "high school freshman"), but it was a sentence that I thought was somewhat shocking, at least compared to the boring crap I usually write about. I thought for sure that by throwing in that "I hit a car with the duck" someone would say something, like maybe an OMG or a "what?" or a "For serious?"

Feels just like I'm walking on broken glass.

So Much To Write About

When it rains, it pours. Actually, it usually doesn't pour here in Seattle, just a constant drizzle. Except when I have out-of-town visitors. Because of course Pam's first 24 hours in Seattle should include the heaviest downpour I've seen since I got here since I told her it never rains in Seattle in the summer to convince her she should come here. And I don't think I would have ultimately been successful in convincing Caroline and Peggy to stay an extra day in Seattle even if it had been beautiful and sunny and 70° F (21.1° C) like it had been for the previous two weeks. But we did make the most of our 12 hours together by not wasting really any of it on sleeping but instead lots of sushi, beer, a woman dancing with a sword (the w may or may not be silent) on her head, another beer(s) and a shot that may have been red or cranberry flavored, but probably not, followed by Caroline's karaoke rendition of some song that we made her do and she agreed to on the condition that Peggy and I would "harmonize" and I don't remember what song she chose but I remember as being vaguely 80's and I was only vaguely familiar with it, but I think we made up for the lack of harmony it with our spectacular dancing. So, in conclusion, it was amazing. And when it rains, it pours.

Another example of this cliche being true is my jobs. (I am now going to start writing in the style of a high school freshman. I can't decide whether that is better or worse than a non-native English speaking applied math professor--you be the judge.) After complaining about not having a job forever I am now overemployed. But not overpaid, fortunately :-P (omg, I now think in emoticons, among other things, like AIM abbreviations, apparently.) And the best part about my jobs is, as Alisa realized the other day, both of them require me to talk all the time (and maintain an unreasonable level of peppiness) while her job is not talking at all, except for occasionally repeating words in a questioning tone. We need to change this.

Oh, and I hit a car with the duck the other day.

I'm a Winner (But You Knew That)

Getting hopelessly lost is something I do quite often. Although usually I don't have a duckload of people along for the ride.

Anyway, so, there was a Mariners game tonight. I knew this. I had been driving past the stadium all day and had seen everyone setting up. I had made jokes about how I hoped they beat the Yankees again tonight. But I'm on automatic pilot after three tours already that day. As soon as I take the turn and see the ocean of people, I knew I had made a terrible mistake. It's like driving a duck down Yawkey Way during a Sox game.

So I finally get through the mob and it would have been salvageable, except I try to circle around to what I think will lead me to Pioneer Square. Only it shoots me right back into the mess again. At this point, I have been silent for what feels like hours-- no witty banter, no music, no nothing. I'm freaking out. I want to cry. I turn on "Born to Be Wild." "Get your motor running, head out on the highway . . ." We are stopped dead in traffic. So at this point we're like forty five minutes into the tour. I'm going to have to bypass the rest of downtown and just get on Highway 99 to shoot up to Lake Union so we can go in the fucking water. Only I drive parallel to 99 for a couple miles and there is no on-ramp At this point we are so far from downtown we are bouncing over dilapidated railroad tracks, past abandoned warehouses in the industrial area south of downtown. By the time I get onto the highway, I have almost run out of bad music. I play "Love Shack." I play "Tequila." I want to jump out the window. I play "Smokey and the Bandit." I don't even know what Smokey and the Bandit is.

We eventually make it back to the parking lot. I actually made more significantly more in tips than I had on my previous three tours. So sad on so many levels.

*I apologize for the flagrant lack of consistency with tense here. I don't feel like editing. 'Cause basically this is the online equivalent of me going "arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh."