An excerpt from the book I’m going to write about my PIRG experience

And by excerpt I mean the only paragraph I actually managed to write when I sat down sometime in November and typed away in a Word document I optimistically called “The Book I Wrote Instead of Getting a Job.doc”

I thought it would be fun if we all came up with sentences for the acronym to make into t-shirts. Have you seen those commercials for Emerald nuts? We could have pictures of pigs wearing yarmulkes for “Pigs In Religious Garb.” But it never got to that point. I never built my little PIRG following. I never held team dinners before a big rally or took my PIRGers bowling. Although apparently there may have been some sort of sentiment in the Evergreen lesbian community that I might almost be cute enough to get them to actually go to a WashPIRG meeting, but that definitely did not pan out. Not that I didn’t try to work that angle—I didn’t have much else going for me—but all that led to were super-awkward encounters where my attempts at simply being friendly were met with blank stares by the awkward co-chairs of the Evergreen Queer Alliance, who were both short with short blondish hair (or maybe one had brownish hair), and seemed to travel as a pair, but not in a coupley way, more of the asexual conjoined twin way. Although I was not completely unsuccessful on that front as I did manage to briefly date one of the senior coordinators, who I could have sworn hated me the first time we met in the Student Activities office. After sharing a bottle of very cheap champagne on Halloween, she asked me if I remembered the first time we met and I told her yeah, I thought she hated me, which she denied, saying that right after she was introduced to me she told her friend, “She’s cute, but she’s the WashPIRG organizer.” Which I think sums up exactly how I felt about myself at that time.

Naming Captain Cecil

I know I seem very demanding lately (write on my blog, damnit) and also maybe obsessed with captains, but I really need your help on this one, for my other captain role this time. I just realized that I need to pick out a "captain name" for my Ride the Ducks persona. Judging by the names of all my co-workers, this name should be a bad pun. Other captains include: "Cody Pendent," "Rusty Steele," "Al O. Yula"* and finally, the only other female captain supposedly goes by "Helen Wheels," which reminds me of a quality blog post I once read.

Ashley had the brilliant idea of looking at Roller Derby names** for inspiration. Although most would probably need a little adaptation since the point of roller derby is causing pain and being sexually suggestive while doing so, which doesn't seem to fit that well with the "wholesome family entertainment" image that Ride the Ducks of Seattle is going for.

So, please feel free to leave any and all suggestions. And if you need any more incentive other than helping me out, I'll give the winner a cut of any tips that the name generates ;)

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*Yeah, I didn't get it either. Supposed to be like "Hallelujah."
**I've only looked at the Gotham Girls Roller Derby teams so far and already there are some great ones: Carmen Monoxide. Beatrix Slaughter. Beonslay.

Team Non-Blog?

Last night I went to my second rugby practice with the Seattle Breakers. We had fitness testing and then went to the pub to nominate captains, which made me think. Not only about how ridiculous the captain election process is on most women's rugby teams and fact that I am a perma-rookie, in sports and life (perma-entry level), but also about captains. I realized that I am captain of my own team-- the blogging team that I recruited a few weeks ago. The rookie class looked very promising. But then. Well, I don't know, but I think it's time we all get back in the game.

[Insert pep talk here]

As you can see, we currently have four members of Team Non-Blog and I am the only one posting. Despite the fact that I have to walk a mile to the library or pay $2 for a hot chocolate every time I want to access the internet. Last time I checked, Laura was sans camera but posessing plenty of blogging material (witnessing shoot-outs with prison escapees) and Caroline, the 632nd person to join Facebook, has even started reading books just so she can waste more time on the internet. Why not reminisce about our junior high reading list on This Is Not a Blog? I think Becca is the only one with a valid excuse for sitting on the metaphorical bench right now, so come on. Step it up and don't make me call in the JV players.

The Day After Valentine's Day

It definitely made my day today [Ed. note: "Today" was 2/15/07, the day after Valentine's Day, when the author wrote this] to see a red card-sized envelope addressed to Ms. C. E. Kiely and adorned with heart, cloud, and Winnie the Pooh stickers sitting on the communal mail table. Inside was a funny card and a check (memo line reads: “Valentine beer?!”). Awwww. But, of course, like anything ever sent through the mail involving my mother, the card did have its quirks. This is an approximation of what the inside looked like:

CEK— (written in my mom’s handwriting in a blue ballpoint)

Happy Valentine’s Day (the card people printed this)

Love,

Dad (dad’s writing, blue felt tipped pen) & Mom (mom with a red pen)

The check was written with a black ballpoint but the envelope addressed with the blue felt tipped one, which means that two different people and at least four distinct pens were involved in the composition of a card that contained a grand total of five words, if you count my initials and the ampersand as words. With my mom it’s hard to tell whether the multiple pens were used for artistic effect or whether she just completed all these tasks at different times, perhaps on different days. Regardless, I think I know where my ADD tendencies come from.

Fred Meyer

As I waste away yet another day (3 in a row!), I figure I might as well update you all on my life. I know you all have been waiting with baited breath (or is it bated?).

Anyway, the last productive thing I did was Monday. I drove the Duck for the first time. We just drove it around the Fred Meyer* next to the Duck Nest**. It was like trying to drive a boat down a street. (No, really?) If you take a right hand turn from the right lane, you will hit the car in the left lane. I can't wait to drive it downtown Seattle tomorrow.

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*Fred Meyer is a grocery store chain, like Shaw's or Stop & Shop for you New Englanders, but they also have a wide selection of low-end clothing, so maybe more like WalMart, a chain that I still refuse to set foot in, even though I heard recently from a source who shall remain unnamed (as will the enviromental group that employs her as a lobbyist and a beacon of smart growth and sustainability in a land of sprawl) that "everything is so cheap!" there. Since grocery stores are the only chains to remain regional, I had no idea what Fred Meyer was when I first heard the name. I was canvassing in the most over-canvassed neighborhood in Portland. I had been in the Northwest a grand total of two weeks but I was already very concerned that already we could see the effects of global warming with melting snowpack in the Cascades (that was the correct mountain range, right?) was threatening "our" water supply. The canvass directors told us that they basically canvass those blocks every three months, and over half the houses on the block had caught on and put up "No Soliciting" signs in a futile attempt to cut down on solicitations since we were told to knock on those doors anyway. One nice lady said that she understood this was my job, but that seriously people were knocking on the door so much her house felt like a Fred Meyer. I thought maybe Fred Meyer was the Publisher's Clearinghouse guy or something.

**The Duck Nest is what they call the warehouse where the Ducks are stored. Awww, cute.

Multiple Choice

Which of the following true things is the saddest:

a) I actually burnt skin off my face when a piece of ham swung out of my Lean Pocket onto my chin.

b) The other night I didn't feel like walking to the bathroom (not because it's far, but because it's so dirty) that I actually brushed my teeth like I was camping, taking a sip of water from my Nalgene and spitting the toothpaste out the window.

c) I sit in my room watching the thermometer and get really excited when it gets up to 64° F.

d) The highlight of my nightlife this week was watching a movie starring Kevin Costner as a washed-up baseball player and Joan Allen as an alcoholic who thought her husband left her to run away to Sweden with his secretary but really, as they found out months later, he had just gone for a walk in the woods behind their house and fallen into an old well. The movie also featured Kerri Russell (you may know her as Felicity, but in this movie she was playing a completely different character since she had straight hair) as one of her four daughters.

A Preview of Things To Come

Monday I drive the duck.

Wish me luck.

That rhymes.

Maybe I should make this into a poem.

Or not.

By the Numbers

In the past year, I . . .

• Lived in 3 different states (PA, MA, and WA-- which only leaves California, Georgia, Iowa, Louisiana, and Virginia to complete the pattern)

• Lived in 2 cities and 2 small towns (one small town being a hyphenated seaside village and the other a small town posing as a state capital)

• Lived in 2 places with cool nicknames (Philly & Oly), 1 not so much (Seattle . . .), and 1 with a real name so ridiculous it doesn't even need a nickname (although we do like MBTS)

• Called 2 different houses on Washington Street (#3 and #2209) home

• Worked for 3 acronymed companies (SIAM, WashPIRG, and UPS) and 1 company so disorganized they wouldn't have been able arrange their letters into an acronym even if they had a long name, which they didn't (The Rockmore)

• Saw the Indigo Girls 3 times (although that's about average for me in a 12-month span ;)

• Ate 4 Krispy Kreme doughnuts (all yesterday)