So the trip did not get off on the best foot. We were scheduled to take off from Portland at 8:45 am on Friday, stop in Dallas and then Chicago with an hour and a half layovers in each, before flying to Dublin and arriving Saturday morning. Mother Nature and American Airlines had other plans though.
There was serious lightning storms in Texas so all flights in and out of Dallas were delayed. We were assured by American Airlines that this meant that our flight leaving Dallas was delayed too so we would not miss that flight, and all flights out of Chicago were being delayed for those coming from Dallas so we wouold not miss that flight either. All in all the only change would be that we would get into Dublin a half hour late...
Um, yeah. They lied.
Friday August 21st
8:45 am: Scheduled to leave Portland.
10:00 am: Actually leave Portland
3:25 pm: Regularly scheduled departure time from Dallas to Chicago.
3:45 pm: Our flight's actual departure time from Dallas to Chicago.
3:50 pm: We arrive in Dallas. Doh!
4:00 pm: The departure time for the next flight from Dallas to Chicago. Unfortunately it was then cancelled. Doh, again.
4:50 pm: Take off on the next flight from Dallas to Chicago.
7:15 pm: Scheduled departure time for our flight from Dallas to Dublin.
7:20 pm: Our flight from Dallas arrives in Chicago. (Are you starting to see a trend here?)
The next flight from Chicago to Dublin does not take off until 7:15pm the next day so they rerouted us to London and then to Dublin.
9:45 pm: Scheduled departure time from Chicago to London.
12:00 am: Actually take off from Chicago. (The worst part is we were sitting on the plane for the entire 2+ hour delay. That is 2+ hours sitting on a plane before a 7 hour flight.)
Saturday August 22nd
1:25 pm: Scheduled departure time for our flight from London to Dublin.
1:05 pm: We arrive in London.
Now you are probably thinking that we have a chance of making our flight. Well you obviously have not caught on to the theme of this trip.
1:25 pm: Due to technical difficulties with trying to line up the gate with the door, this is the actual time we leave the plane. Yes, we just missed our third plane by 5 minutes or less.
3:50 pm: Scheduled to leave London for Dublin.
5:10 pm: Actually take off from London. (YES. I do not joke. Our plane was delayed.)
6:20 pm: Arrive in Dublin.
It is now 10:20 am in Portland. We have been flying, running through airports, and standing in customer service lines for over 24 hours. We have been awake and in the same clothes for 29 hours. We have been booked on 8 flights, 4 of which were delayed, 1 was cancelled, and 3 we missed.
We are 10 hours late (NOT a half hour) but by God, we are here!
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
I'm back (part two).
I lied. Sort of. This next post will have a different tone as promised; it just will not have anything to do with Ireland and Scotland. I have actually been keeping notes for this post for over a year now and even though I have not been caught in this situation for a while, just reading my notes I am immediately incensed.
This post is about public transit etiquette.
1) If you are sitting in the first row of seats and an elderly person or someone with small children gets on the bus, move.
If the bus is not full then get up, offer your seat, and you be the one to walk a little ways down the bus to the next seat. You will be seen as a compassionate awesome person whom people hope their children grow into.
If the bus is full then stand, offer your seat, and grab hold of a railing. In this situation you will be revered, near sainthood, depending on the denomination of the observer. If you don’t, then you are THAT ASSHOLE. Emphasis fully intended.
Anyone who makes an elderly person, pregnant woman, or person with a small child, stand in the middle of a crowded bus/trolley/tram and try and stay upright through all the swaying, stopping, and staring, all while comfortable sitting on their butt and resting their able legs and arms, is an asshole.
My biggest pet-peeve are those who walk onto the bus or trolley when it is almost empty and sit down in those front seat (which are clearly designated) and then do not get up. I mean come on. That is just lazy and rude, and your excuse for being rude is being lazy.
2) If you are standing on public transit, please be cognizant of your body parts and accessories attached to yourself while swaying, walking, or shifting. Especially your butt, please.
If I am one of the lucky ones sitting, I don’t want to have to be leaning into my neighbor as if we are long lost lovers just because every time there is a tilt your purse, elbow, backpack, or worse, rear-end, invades my personal space that only family, friends, or doctors should be in.
Worse is when your body or accessory connects with some portion of my body and you do nothing to prevent this from happening again. You expect me to move to allow you the extra room you require for unhindered swaying or tilting. Not cool.
3) Number three is my most controversial complaint and I’d say only half of the people I mention this to agree. The other half really don’t want to talk to me for a while afterwards, so here goes.
If you have not showered or changed clothing for more than three days, don’t get on public transit during rush hour. This goes for people suffering homelessness or those going through an au natural period in their life.
I know that sounds rude but here is my honest opinion. If either by choice or not, you smell like a port-a-potty that has been sitting in the sun, you probably don’t have a job that requires you to ride public transit during rush hour. If you do, you are about to get fired. If you smell that bad you are most likely not heading to a job interview or job training that requires you to ride public transit during rush hour. In fact I am hard pressed to find a reason that you are on public transit during rush hour, but I do know that you make about 25 people already squished against each other extremely uncomfortable and in some cases nauseated. It is especially angering when you are lounging across two seats because no one can sit next to you without fainting.
This may seem rude, but dude, you have no job, you can ride public transit to wherever you are going at whatever time you want, but you choose rush hour.
So there are my three biggest pet-peeves with public transit. Loud cell-phone conversations and screaming kids are not included because I listen to podcasts and do suduko puzzles while on public transit. Which might make a few of the above that more infuriating…
4) Don’t mess with a girls’ daily suduko puzzle!
This post is about public transit etiquette.
1) If you are sitting in the first row of seats and an elderly person or someone with small children gets on the bus, move.
If the bus is not full then get up, offer your seat, and you be the one to walk a little ways down the bus to the next seat. You will be seen as a compassionate awesome person whom people hope their children grow into.
If the bus is full then stand, offer your seat, and grab hold of a railing. In this situation you will be revered, near sainthood, depending on the denomination of the observer. If you don’t, then you are THAT ASSHOLE. Emphasis fully intended.
Anyone who makes an elderly person, pregnant woman, or person with a small child, stand in the middle of a crowded bus/trolley/tram and try and stay upright through all the swaying, stopping, and staring, all while comfortable sitting on their butt and resting their able legs and arms, is an asshole.
My biggest pet-peeve are those who walk onto the bus or trolley when it is almost empty and sit down in those front seat (which are clearly designated) and then do not get up. I mean come on. That is just lazy and rude, and your excuse for being rude is being lazy.
2) If you are standing on public transit, please be cognizant of your body parts and accessories attached to yourself while swaying, walking, or shifting. Especially your butt, please.
If I am one of the lucky ones sitting, I don’t want to have to be leaning into my neighbor as if we are long lost lovers just because every time there is a tilt your purse, elbow, backpack, or worse, rear-end, invades my personal space that only family, friends, or doctors should be in.
Worse is when your body or accessory connects with some portion of my body and you do nothing to prevent this from happening again. You expect me to move to allow you the extra room you require for unhindered swaying or tilting. Not cool.
3) Number three is my most controversial complaint and I’d say only half of the people I mention this to agree. The other half really don’t want to talk to me for a while afterwards, so here goes.
If you have not showered or changed clothing for more than three days, don’t get on public transit during rush hour. This goes for people suffering homelessness or those going through an au natural period in their life.
I know that sounds rude but here is my honest opinion. If either by choice or not, you smell like a port-a-potty that has been sitting in the sun, you probably don’t have a job that requires you to ride public transit during rush hour. If you do, you are about to get fired. If you smell that bad you are most likely not heading to a job interview or job training that requires you to ride public transit during rush hour. In fact I am hard pressed to find a reason that you are on public transit during rush hour, but I do know that you make about 25 people already squished against each other extremely uncomfortable and in some cases nauseated. It is especially angering when you are lounging across two seats because no one can sit next to you without fainting.
This may seem rude, but dude, you have no job, you can ride public transit to wherever you are going at whatever time you want, but you choose rush hour.
So there are my three biggest pet-peeves with public transit. Loud cell-phone conversations and screaming kids are not included because I listen to podcasts and do suduko puzzles while on public transit. Which might make a few of the above that more infuriating…
4) Don’t mess with a girls’ daily suduko puzzle!
I am back!
So, um, I have not posted in a long long time. I got a little busy, okay?
No really, I have been busy this last year. As can be predicted, school started up again in September so there is my first excuse.
I also joined a fraternity. Let me clarify, it is a business fraternity – co-ed of course. Actually let me clarify again, I did not actually join a chapter of the fraternity, I signed up to create a chapter at PSU. Oh, and did I mention I have the position of VP of Membership. Yeah, second really big excuse for being busy.
Oh, and I joined the honors program at the business school at PSU. It was not that difficult to join, just a 3.75 GPA, and all I need to do is maintain that GPA and take 6 extra workshops/classes. What is that? Why yes! Yes, I am a masochist. Why do you ask?
So you probably think that I am a nerd with no life outside of school. Well you might be right if it weren’t for that whole masochist thing we just discussed. (Cue maniacal laughter.)
No I did not take on world hunger or something like that, just poor feral cats. There is a non-profit in Portland that helps people to trap, neuter, and return feral cats that they are feeding. I was feeding close to 15 feral cats and growing so it was a perfect fit. The trapping only took a night and the clinic was the next day, buuuuuuuuuut, there were the two small kittens that were part of the colony. Yeah, if you know me, then you know those little ones were not being released, but were going to be socialized and found a good home.
At this point please do not think I am some wacko who thinks having a social life is being a cat-lady. Oh no, after a year of being on my own in a new town, Derrick moved down. I am still unsure how we did not kill each other living together in my small one-bedroom apartment with three cats for a couple of months.
Well anyways, I leapt into relationshiphood. (Word does not seem to want to acknowledge that as a word, but I have never really had high regard for Microsoft so I don’t feel that bad about ignoring the red squiggle lines… well except that I can almost hear my Dad’s voice and the words dictionary and grammar floating around in my head. And now I realize that I have written way too much to be acceptably contained in parentheses. Eek! And I just started a sentence with ‘and’! Oh no, I just did it again! For the love of God, close the parentheses!)
Phew.
So Derrick moved down to Portland and we moved in with each other. This of course was not a major ‘thing’ and is barely worth mentioning because I was so calm throughout the whole thing. Hell, I barely noticed that change! Can’t you tell?
So that has been my year - scuse the phrase but - a shit load of school, cats and kittens, and the mixing, melding, and compromise of sharing a kitchen with someone who fundamentally cooks differently than you.
This Friday I am off to Ireland and Scotland so the next update will be a completely different tone. I promise.
No really, I have been busy this last year. As can be predicted, school started up again in September so there is my first excuse.
I also joined a fraternity. Let me clarify, it is a business fraternity – co-ed of course. Actually let me clarify again, I did not actually join a chapter of the fraternity, I signed up to create a chapter at PSU. Oh, and did I mention I have the position of VP of Membership. Yeah, second really big excuse for being busy.
Oh, and I joined the honors program at the business school at PSU. It was not that difficult to join, just a 3.75 GPA, and all I need to do is maintain that GPA and take 6 extra workshops/classes. What is that? Why yes! Yes, I am a masochist. Why do you ask?
So you probably think that I am a nerd with no life outside of school. Well you might be right if it weren’t for that whole masochist thing we just discussed. (Cue maniacal laughter.)
No I did not take on world hunger or something like that, just poor feral cats. There is a non-profit in Portland that helps people to trap, neuter, and return feral cats that they are feeding. I was feeding close to 15 feral cats and growing so it was a perfect fit. The trapping only took a night and the clinic was the next day, buuuuuuuuuut, there were the two small kittens that were part of the colony. Yeah, if you know me, then you know those little ones were not being released, but were going to be socialized and found a good home.
At this point please do not think I am some wacko who thinks having a social life is being a cat-lady. Oh no, after a year of being on my own in a new town, Derrick moved down. I am still unsure how we did not kill each other living together in my small one-bedroom apartment with three cats for a couple of months.
Well anyways, I leapt into relationshiphood. (Word does not seem to want to acknowledge that as a word, but I have never really had high regard for Microsoft so I don’t feel that bad about ignoring the red squiggle lines… well except that I can almost hear my Dad’s voice and the words dictionary and grammar floating around in my head. And now I realize that I have written way too much to be acceptably contained in parentheses. Eek! And I just started a sentence with ‘and’! Oh no, I just did it again! For the love of God, close the parentheses!)
Phew.
So Derrick moved down to Portland and we moved in with each other. This of course was not a major ‘thing’ and is barely worth mentioning because I was so calm throughout the whole thing. Hell, I barely noticed that change! Can’t you tell?
So that has been my year - scuse the phrase but - a shit load of school, cats and kittens, and the mixing, melding, and compromise of sharing a kitchen with someone who fundamentally cooks differently than you.
This Friday I am off to Ireland and Scotland so the next update will be a completely different tone. I promise.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Camping in Cana-er-Washington
Last labor day weekend the plan was to go camping and rock climbing in Canada. What actually happened was a comedy of errors.
It actually all started out looking like everything was going our way. We were first daunted with the task of trying to fit five people, all of the camping gear AND climbing gear all into a Honda Civic. But we succeeded! Of course we all (except for Derrick, the driver) had something stowed behind our feet, in between our legs, and on our lap, and were basically squished in like sardines. But it was only going to be a three hour drive, right?
Well lets get straight to where things went wrong. To start, we were not allowed into Canada.
We were (supposedly) randomly picked to be one of those unlucky cars made to pull over for further inspection. Strike one. Standing in line, the next available agent was Mr. Asshole-the-size-of-Texas. Strike two. I have a lack of respect for assholes, this guy lives and breaths for his power-trips, and there is a bullshit rule on the books written only in an attempt to gain more money. Strike three.
Strike three will be detailed in another blog, but regardless, we did not make it into Canada. Oddly enough, upon explaining to the US border control agent on our way back why we had only been in Canada for an hour, he just shrugged, but then excitedly gave us directions to a place where we could find rock climbing on this side of the border. We decided to give it a go, and thus continue our comedy of errors, the rest of which I think I will tell in pictures. But first...
We ate some lunch before heading back towards Seattle and three prospective campgrounds.
Unfortunately we got to the first campsite five minutes too late and we could not find the second one, so we settled on the third. After setting up the tent we headed out to find a grocery store. But...
We got a little lost. Partially due to bad directions and partially due to some pretty bad ass fog.
At one point while rolling through one of the 100 people or less towns along the freeway, we happened upon some locals. Note to self, never, never, ever again, talk to the locals. The mother and child duo we happened upon had the same monotone voice and hollow stares as the children of the corn, and despite all of our attempts to find out where they themselves got groceries, they kept eerily beckoning us to go to the restaurant. We decided that we did not want to find out what they did with out-of-towners at the "restaurant."
We eventually found a grocery store and now after not three, but nine hours in the car...
We did what anyone would have done.
We started drinking.
Really drinking. :)
Oh. But first we had to start a fire. Uh, but we forgot to bring any kindling or paper to start the fire. No problem. We have the paperwork and forms given to us by the 40 year old virgin, Canadian border patrol agent from hell. :)
The next morning we thought we had started anew and could handle anything fate threw at us. This feeling prevailed through our realizing that we had forgotten to buy cups at the grocery store for our coffee.
So we used used last night's beer bottles (rinsed out of course).
Sufficiently caffeinated we headed out to do some rock climbing.
Except there was one small problem. (Are you starting to see a trend here?)
The rocks were too wet from rain to climb. Doh!
We explored the area looking for any dry spot to climb but only found moss, mushrooms, a frog, and...
A door?
I shit you not. We found a huge door set in the middle of the cliff face, and yes, with a picnic bench parked outside. There was a humming sound coming from the other side of the door but all electric cables leading out of the rock were severed and not live. The entire thing was covered in layers of rust and tagging, yet, the door had a brand-new padlock on it. Cue eerie music.
(We later found found out that this had been a testing site for a giant drill that may have been used to dig the chunnel. Did they use it? How far in did they get? And what is the noise coming from inside? Nope, the above explanation is all the man could tell anyone.)
Well after coming to the realization that the main reason for our camping trip was now a no-go, we headed back to the campsite. But not before stopping to pick up some vodka. Oh, and a tarp, because it had started to rain.
Yep. That is a picture of Matt, Melissa and Hillary trying to light a campfire under and umbrella.
What you can not see is the rest of us trying to put up tarps over the BBQ and table, in the middle of the rain, at a campsite with trees only on one side. The resulting lean-to style seemed to work just fine though.
That all being done, we decided to start drinking again.
We did luck out in the fact that our immediate neighbors on either side did not show up the first night because of the rain (silly them), and the next night did not really care about us being loud and obnoxious.
I lucked out in the fact that Hillary is a very understanding person and did not mind when I accidentally tried to climb into bed with her husband, Chris. Word to the wise, before it is dark and you are drunk, pop your head into the tent and take notice of where your sleeping bag is located. With six other people in the tent, you have poor odds at picking the right one.
The next day we decided to go on a hike to see some waterfalls, and everything was going great.
Until Derrick mentioned something about it not raining anymore.
It was a beautiful hike though and we saw some beautiful waterfalls and a mouse half the size of your thumb.
We decided to cut our camping trip short a day and head back to Seattle to have a night on the town, a nice dinner, and do some sight-seeing the next day.
Dinner and a night on the town went great. Sight-seeing? Well besides the unseasonably cold weather and most tourist spots being closed on Labor Day (go figure) we had a blast walking around, uh, looking at things... that were closed...
We spent the rest of our time doing what any Seattler would do. Drinking coffee and sitting out in the misty weather.
The end. :)
It actually all started out looking like everything was going our way. We were first daunted with the task of trying to fit five people, all of the camping gear AND climbing gear all into a Honda Civic. But we succeeded! Of course we all (except for Derrick, the driver) had something stowed behind our feet, in between our legs, and on our lap, and were basically squished in like sardines. But it was only going to be a three hour drive, right?
Well lets get straight to where things went wrong. To start, we were not allowed into Canada.
We were (supposedly) randomly picked to be one of those unlucky cars made to pull over for further inspection. Strike one. Standing in line, the next available agent was Mr. Asshole-the-size-of-Texas. Strike two. I have a lack of respect for assholes, this guy lives and breaths for his power-trips, and there is a bullshit rule on the books written only in an attempt to gain more money. Strike three.
Strike three will be detailed in another blog, but regardless, we did not make it into Canada. Oddly enough, upon explaining to the US border control agent on our way back why we had only been in Canada for an hour, he just shrugged, but then excitedly gave us directions to a place where we could find rock climbing on this side of the border. We decided to give it a go, and thus continue our comedy of errors, the rest of which I think I will tell in pictures. But first...
We ate some lunch before heading back towards Seattle and three prospective campgrounds.
Unfortunately we got to the first campsite five minutes too late and we could not find the second one, so we settled on the third. After setting up the tent we headed out to find a grocery store. But...
We got a little lost. Partially due to bad directions and partially due to some pretty bad ass fog.At one point while rolling through one of the 100 people or less towns along the freeway, we happened upon some locals. Note to self, never, never, ever again, talk to the locals. The mother and child duo we happened upon had the same monotone voice and hollow stares as the children of the corn, and despite all of our attempts to find out where they themselves got groceries, they kept eerily beckoning us to go to the restaurant. We decided that we did not want to find out what they did with out-of-towners at the "restaurant."
We eventually found a grocery store and now after not three, but nine hours in the car...
We did what anyone would have done.
We started drinking.
Really drinking. :)Oh. But first we had to start a fire. Uh, but we forgot to bring any kindling or paper to start the fire. No problem. We have the paperwork and forms given to us by the 40 year old virgin, Canadian border patrol agent from hell. :)
The next morning we thought we had started anew and could handle anything fate threw at us. This feeling prevailed through our realizing that we had forgotten to buy cups at the grocery store for our coffee.
So we used used last night's beer bottles (rinsed out of course).Sufficiently caffeinated we headed out to do some rock climbing.
Except there was one small problem. (Are you starting to see a trend here?)
The rocks were too wet from rain to climb. Doh!We explored the area looking for any dry spot to climb but only found moss, mushrooms, a frog, and...
A door?I shit you not. We found a huge door set in the middle of the cliff face, and yes, with a picnic bench parked outside. There was a humming sound coming from the other side of the door but all electric cables leading out of the rock were severed and not live. The entire thing was covered in layers of rust and tagging, yet, the door had a brand-new padlock on it. Cue eerie music.
(We later found found out that this had been a testing site for a giant drill that may have been used to dig the chunnel. Did they use it? How far in did they get? And what is the noise coming from inside? Nope, the above explanation is all the man could tell anyone.)
Well after coming to the realization that the main reason for our camping trip was now a no-go, we headed back to the campsite. But not before stopping to pick up some vodka. Oh, and a tarp, because it had started to rain.
Yep. That is a picture of Matt, Melissa and Hillary trying to light a campfire under and umbrella.What you can not see is the rest of us trying to put up tarps over the BBQ and table, in the middle of the rain, at a campsite with trees only on one side. The resulting lean-to style seemed to work just fine though.
That all being done, we decided to start drinking again.
We did luck out in the fact that our immediate neighbors on either side did not show up the first night because of the rain (silly them), and the next night did not really care about us being loud and obnoxious.I lucked out in the fact that Hillary is a very understanding person and did not mind when I accidentally tried to climb into bed with her husband, Chris. Word to the wise, before it is dark and you are drunk, pop your head into the tent and take notice of where your sleeping bag is located. With six other people in the tent, you have poor odds at picking the right one.
The next day we decided to go on a hike to see some waterfalls, and everything was going great.
Until Derrick mentioned something about it not raining anymore.
It was a beautiful hike though and we saw some beautiful waterfalls and a mouse half the size of your thumb.We decided to cut our camping trip short a day and head back to Seattle to have a night on the town, a nice dinner, and do some sight-seeing the next day.
Dinner and a night on the town went great. Sight-seeing? Well besides the unseasonably cold weather and most tourist spots being closed on Labor Day (go figure) we had a blast walking around, uh, looking at things... that were closed...
We spent the rest of our time doing what any Seattler would do. Drinking coffee and sitting out in the misty weather.
The end. :)
Thursday, August 14, 2008
A day in the Life of Being Cute
Okay, lets get two things out of the way...
One, people who are considered good-looking by society have their gripes, which can be countered by those who are not considered good-looking, and vise-versa. It is this with many different cases. One does not trump or cancel the other. In fact, one of the things I hate most is when someone says, "Well you think you have it bad, well..." or something along those lines. If your response to someone after they have complained about something is to tell them how they have it better, then (to give a list within a list) you one, did not actual listen to them, and two, just marginalized their feelings. Both of which, no one would ever want done to them.
But getting onto my first list...
Second, I realize that I bitch a lot on this blog, actually I mainly only complain. But it is my blog. It is my sound board. The good things in my life I prefer to share with people personally. Dear God, if you know me, you know how much I love to talk.
So anyways...
The bitch about being cute or good-looking is that if you want to be seen as anything different than that, you REALLY need to be different. If you want to be taken as smart, you have to come off as fucking genius. If you want to be taken seriously with sports, you need to know every name, stat and year. If you want to be known as having a spine, well you better start a fight with anything that fucking breathes. You get my point?
The thing is, this is not who you are. I am not that smart. I do not keep up to date with sports every day. I do not have the spine and attitude that so many think I have.
But say I fail in being able to understand and learn something. Say I mix up a player and their team or forget a stat. Say I just feel sad one day and do not feel like showing any spunk. Well to those who don't know me, then they just see me as that cute girl. And those who do know me, they are confused by my behavior. Because all they know is the person who is trying her damnedest to not be seen as that cute girl.
One, people who are considered good-looking by society have their gripes, which can be countered by those who are not considered good-looking, and vise-versa. It is this with many different cases. One does not trump or cancel the other. In fact, one of the things I hate most is when someone says, "Well you think you have it bad, well..." or something along those lines. If your response to someone after they have complained about something is to tell them how they have it better, then (to give a list within a list) you one, did not actual listen to them, and two, just marginalized their feelings. Both of which, no one would ever want done to them.
But getting onto my first list...
Second, I realize that I bitch a lot on this blog, actually I mainly only complain. But it is my blog. It is my sound board. The good things in my life I prefer to share with people personally. Dear God, if you know me, you know how much I love to talk.
So anyways...
The bitch about being cute or good-looking is that if you want to be seen as anything different than that, you REALLY need to be different. If you want to be taken as smart, you have to come off as fucking genius. If you want to be taken seriously with sports, you need to know every name, stat and year. If you want to be known as having a spine, well you better start a fight with anything that fucking breathes. You get my point?
The thing is, this is not who you are. I am not that smart. I do not keep up to date with sports every day. I do not have the spine and attitude that so many think I have.
But say I fail in being able to understand and learn something. Say I mix up a player and their team or forget a stat. Say I just feel sad one day and do not feel like showing any spunk. Well to those who don't know me, then they just see me as that cute girl. And those who do know me, they are confused by my behavior. Because all they know is the person who is trying her damnedest to not be seen as that cute girl.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
NFL's new Fan Code of Conduct
I am so screwed!
The following will get you kicked out of the stadium and basically banned from coming back!!!
The following will get you kicked out of the stadium and basically banned from coming back!!!
» Behavior that is unruly, disruptive, or illegal in nature.
» Intoxication or other signs of alcohol impairment that results in irresponsible behavior.
» Foul or abusive language or obscene gestures.
» Interference with the progress of the game (including throwing objects onto the field).
» Failing to follow instructions of stadium personnel.
» Verbal or physical harassment of opposing team fans.
"Any fan in violation of these provisions will be subject to ejection without refund and loss of ticket privileges for future games."
First off, unruly and disruptive. That is so vague! Who defines if it is unruly or disruptive? Heaven forbid that some tea-toting soccer Mom goes to a game; whole sections would be considered unruly and disruptive. Hell, some stadium's security can't even get all their employees on the same page on who can, and who can not, kiss who at a game. This is just asking for trouble right off the bat.
The second one I don't have any problem with; it is basically already the norm. If you get drunk and try to jump off of the edge to the lower seats, you will get yourself ejected. Oh, well, or sent to the hospital if you actually make it over the ledge.
Onto the next rule... Wait, what! No foul language or flipping the bird! What the *bleep* are those *bleeping* *bleeps* smoking? (Yeah, doesn't have the same feeling to it, does it?) So if my team throws an interception, what am I going to say? Darn it? When asked about the Cowboys am I suppose to say, "I really dislike that team." Or when asked about Brett Favre I should say, "I really don't care for him as a person." Fuck no! I hate them with a passion, why the fuck would I dilute that you dumb-ass nfl morons. (See, how that last sentence got my point across so much better.)
The fourth and fifth rules are also already the norm and pretty much make sense. I only say pretty much, because to the people who have been thrown out games before for breaking these rules, they did not make sense to them. Well at least they didn't at the time. Either that or they were only trying to save face by yelling and screaming that the rules are stupid and unfair while they were being carried out. I have a positive outlook on humanity so I like to think this is the case, either that or the next morning when one of their friends tells them what they did and shows them the videos posted on Youtube, they realize that no, the rules aren't stupid, they are.
And finally, why I am screwed!
"Verbal or physical harassment of opposing team fans."
Ah shit.
This next season I am going to the Patriots/Niners game at Candlestick so I think I am safe - for now. I am going to bet that I get banned from Qwest field first. At first I thought it was a fair chance at it being either Candlestick or Qwest, but I just can not bring myself to believe that Candlestick staff would chuck little old me out. In past games a Niner fan practically had to beg to be thrown out, and those were not even the Raiders or Cowboys games.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Better late than never I guess.
I know this a rather late post on the outcome of the primaries but it is something that has been stewing and stewing in me, and I think I need to get out because it is something I should be over, but am not.
I voted for Hillary in the Washington state primaries. I actually had an opportunity to vote a second time for Hillary in the Oregon state primaries but decided against it out of fairness, but that is a different interesting topic. Either way, Obama won the most votes in the Democrat’s primaries and is now the pre-emptive Democrat candidate. And I am bitter.
Not only was I upset when it became evident that Obama had won, not only did I become bitter days afterwards, but more than a month later I am actually more upset and bitter with each week. In the beginning I blamed the media. Soon afterwards I blamed not only the media but also this countries hidden sexism. That soon expanded to Obama’s supporters. Through all of this though, I staunchly proclaimed that, “I am first a Democrat and second a Hillary supporter. I will vote for the Democrat’s candidate.” But lately I have found myself starting to extend my anger even to Obama, to think of him as the lesser of two evils, and even have the thought (even for a moment) enter my head of abstaining from voting.
A few notes: First, this is an emotional post, so the use of the word ‘blame’ does not always mean quilt, although if you read further there are some that I truly do blame with the accusation of quilt. Second, I do not clump all of Obama supporters into one group, but I do worry about his ability to control the extremist mob that has formed around him. And third, I am in no way leaning towards McCain.
After those disclaimers, onto my bitterness and their roots and manifestations…
It first began during the primary running. I did equally notice the racist rhetoric and deviousness of the media and some republican groups, but being female and not African-American, I of course felt and particularly noticed the times of underhanded sexism during the primaries more. There were lengthy debates on Hillary when she teared up when a woman asked her how she handled it all and kept on going. Debates on if she could handle the job of presidency because she shed a tear? Meanwhile many throw comments about how impersonal and out of touch politicians are? Oh, and please do not get me started on the debate of whether she was faking her tears! Obama gave a wonderful speech on racism and the need to overcome it, yet even all those so backwards to have been commenting how he was not black enough or how he was too white did not question his speech and how real it was. Sorry, I did get going on that topic, didn’t I?
There were many, many times where I was struck by with minimally blanketed sexism of the media coverage. Each time was a cold bucket of water to the face followed by a slap. Each was a steady squish to my (innocent and naïve maybe) ideology of this countries culture, like that of the twist of the ankle when squashing a bug on the ground. The moment I no longer became aghast or shocked but down right angry was when Olbermann (a journalist I admired) did not give a ‘special comment’ on the incident with Obama’s preacher and his angry rhetoric. For you see, just a month ago a woman from Hillary’s camp had made hateful and angry comments. Hillary did not denounce these comments, but stated that those comments were those of the person who had spoken them and not her own and every person has the right to their opinion even if she herself does not share them. That earned Hillary a grilling special comment from Olbermann. A few days after this statement from Hillary, she accepted the resignation of this women. Yet, just a month later, Obama’s pastor (a man) was found to also have made hateful and angry comments. Obama also did not immediately denounce this person; in fact he did not do so for a month. And yet, no special comment from Olbermann, only in depth discussion on the impact that this would have on his candidacy.
So it is safe to say that when it was evident that Obama had won the primary I was a little disgruntled. Hillary’s speeches of what had been accomplished for women made me think instead of what had actually been uncovered. My life I have advocated for those who are not seen equally because I thought I lived the life I wanted because of others who fought for my equality. My life I have never thought myself a suppressed or discriminated against person. Yes, there are a few barriers left to be broken, but the war had been won, there were just a few battles left to seal the deal. Not after this. My world had been turned upside down. And it continued.
When I watched the new candidate that I was now backing being introduced by a former Hillary supporter and the people in the audience booed when hearing Hillary’s name, I was stunned. Shocked. Silenced. But when Obama himself got up on the stage and they booed when he mentioned Hillary, that quickly changed. I was angry. Furious. Felt stabbed in the back. Turned upon.
My thoughts: Nice way to support your candidate guys, boo the other Democrats. That will really get him elected. I see now that it is not about the issues. It is not about the party. It is about your candidate.
Yes. That is where me thoughts took me. It was not our candidate, but their candidate. I know that the preceding feelings and emotions described in my previous paragraphs played a large part in the train of my thoughts but I would not like to offer that as an excuse to them. When they booed, they were not booing Hillary; they were booing her followers too. If they did not realize that then that is even more their fault. Those who booed (in not just that, but a few rallies) were no longer rooting for the party, the issues, and the causes; they were booing a person and rooting for another person. Together we were Democrats but in those moments they put it to a level of you guys and us. Maybe that is a fallacy of the Democrat party that has even been joked upon, but I don’t think it has ever been taken to this level.
There was a lot of discussion and debate regarding what Obama was going to do to win over the Hillary supporters, and I think he really has tried extensively. But his tactic has been of praising what Hillary did and how much she accomplished; it did not address or even speak of the hurt that many of her followers feel or why. The root causes of the anger and bitterness have not been addressed, hell even spoken of. A wound that is left untended festers, and that is exactly what has happened to me.
The sexism I viewed during the primaries made it difficult to separate Hillary’s campaign for the presidency based on her political views from a separate campaign against underlying sexism in this country. Her campaign became so much more than just a want for a Democrat in the Oval Office. It became so much more than a hope for a woman candidate. It became a battle for all of that, but also against the ignored and accepted sexism in this country. Her campaign becoming that maked it equally as hard to not see Obama not as the winner of a primary election, but as the victor against the battle I just described. Then to not have the wounds and the hurt that I experience addressed only let the animosity to remain, just under the skin, so that every move and word was analyzed to try and find any fault and any further insult. Unfortunately Obama’s supporters provided those moments without much analysis needed.
I think it is safe to assume that most would think that my perceptions and logic have been degrading at an exponential rate through this, but again I state that this is an emotional piece. While I usually put more stock in facts (and of course, numbers) my point at the end of this is that this is no longer just a logical issue. Beyond just the emotion of just fear based advertising or mud slinging, this campaign has conceived more deep seeded emotion than (sadly) most ever have, and that needs to be addressed.
I am angry. I am not bitter, but angry. I feel betrayed by the public of my country and then I feel betrayed by my party. I have over and over again told myself that all of this is separate from Obama, but each time it is harder and harder. Illogical? Yes, but it is there, and I think that had Hillary won, many African-Americans might be having a similar debate with themselves like I am.
I voted for Hillary in the Washington state primaries. I actually had an opportunity to vote a second time for Hillary in the Oregon state primaries but decided against it out of fairness, but that is a different interesting topic. Either way, Obama won the most votes in the Democrat’s primaries and is now the pre-emptive Democrat candidate. And I am bitter.
Not only was I upset when it became evident that Obama had won, not only did I become bitter days afterwards, but more than a month later I am actually more upset and bitter with each week. In the beginning I blamed the media. Soon afterwards I blamed not only the media but also this countries hidden sexism. That soon expanded to Obama’s supporters. Through all of this though, I staunchly proclaimed that, “I am first a Democrat and second a Hillary supporter. I will vote for the Democrat’s candidate.” But lately I have found myself starting to extend my anger even to Obama, to think of him as the lesser of two evils, and even have the thought (even for a moment) enter my head of abstaining from voting.
A few notes: First, this is an emotional post, so the use of the word ‘blame’ does not always mean quilt, although if you read further there are some that I truly do blame with the accusation of quilt. Second, I do not clump all of Obama supporters into one group, but I do worry about his ability to control the extremist mob that has formed around him. And third, I am in no way leaning towards McCain.
After those disclaimers, onto my bitterness and their roots and manifestations…
It first began during the primary running. I did equally notice the racist rhetoric and deviousness of the media and some republican groups, but being female and not African-American, I of course felt and particularly noticed the times of underhanded sexism during the primaries more. There were lengthy debates on Hillary when she teared up when a woman asked her how she handled it all and kept on going. Debates on if she could handle the job of presidency because she shed a tear? Meanwhile many throw comments about how impersonal and out of touch politicians are? Oh, and please do not get me started on the debate of whether she was faking her tears! Obama gave a wonderful speech on racism and the need to overcome it, yet even all those so backwards to have been commenting how he was not black enough or how he was too white did not question his speech and how real it was. Sorry, I did get going on that topic, didn’t I?
There were many, many times where I was struck by with minimally blanketed sexism of the media coverage. Each time was a cold bucket of water to the face followed by a slap. Each was a steady squish to my (innocent and naïve maybe) ideology of this countries culture, like that of the twist of the ankle when squashing a bug on the ground. The moment I no longer became aghast or shocked but down right angry was when Olbermann (a journalist I admired) did not give a ‘special comment’ on the incident with Obama’s preacher and his angry rhetoric. For you see, just a month ago a woman from Hillary’s camp had made hateful and angry comments. Hillary did not denounce these comments, but stated that those comments were those of the person who had spoken them and not her own and every person has the right to their opinion even if she herself does not share them. That earned Hillary a grilling special comment from Olbermann. A few days after this statement from Hillary, she accepted the resignation of this women. Yet, just a month later, Obama’s pastor (a man) was found to also have made hateful and angry comments. Obama also did not immediately denounce this person; in fact he did not do so for a month. And yet, no special comment from Olbermann, only in depth discussion on the impact that this would have on his candidacy.
So it is safe to say that when it was evident that Obama had won the primary I was a little disgruntled. Hillary’s speeches of what had been accomplished for women made me think instead of what had actually been uncovered. My life I have advocated for those who are not seen equally because I thought I lived the life I wanted because of others who fought for my equality. My life I have never thought myself a suppressed or discriminated against person. Yes, there are a few barriers left to be broken, but the war had been won, there were just a few battles left to seal the deal. Not after this. My world had been turned upside down. And it continued.
When I watched the new candidate that I was now backing being introduced by a former Hillary supporter and the people in the audience booed when hearing Hillary’s name, I was stunned. Shocked. Silenced. But when Obama himself got up on the stage and they booed when he mentioned Hillary, that quickly changed. I was angry. Furious. Felt stabbed in the back. Turned upon.
My thoughts: Nice way to support your candidate guys, boo the other Democrats. That will really get him elected. I see now that it is not about the issues. It is not about the party. It is about your candidate.
Yes. That is where me thoughts took me. It was not our candidate, but their candidate. I know that the preceding feelings and emotions described in my previous paragraphs played a large part in the train of my thoughts but I would not like to offer that as an excuse to them. When they booed, they were not booing Hillary; they were booing her followers too. If they did not realize that then that is even more their fault. Those who booed (in not just that, but a few rallies) were no longer rooting for the party, the issues, and the causes; they were booing a person and rooting for another person. Together we were Democrats but in those moments they put it to a level of you guys and us. Maybe that is a fallacy of the Democrat party that has even been joked upon, but I don’t think it has ever been taken to this level.
There was a lot of discussion and debate regarding what Obama was going to do to win over the Hillary supporters, and I think he really has tried extensively. But his tactic has been of praising what Hillary did and how much she accomplished; it did not address or even speak of the hurt that many of her followers feel or why. The root causes of the anger and bitterness have not been addressed, hell even spoken of. A wound that is left untended festers, and that is exactly what has happened to me.
The sexism I viewed during the primaries made it difficult to separate Hillary’s campaign for the presidency based on her political views from a separate campaign against underlying sexism in this country. Her campaign became so much more than just a want for a Democrat in the Oval Office. It became so much more than a hope for a woman candidate. It became a battle for all of that, but also against the ignored and accepted sexism in this country. Her campaign becoming that maked it equally as hard to not see Obama not as the winner of a primary election, but as the victor against the battle I just described. Then to not have the wounds and the hurt that I experience addressed only let the animosity to remain, just under the skin, so that every move and word was analyzed to try and find any fault and any further insult. Unfortunately Obama’s supporters provided those moments without much analysis needed.
I think it is safe to assume that most would think that my perceptions and logic have been degrading at an exponential rate through this, but again I state that this is an emotional piece. While I usually put more stock in facts (and of course, numbers) my point at the end of this is that this is no longer just a logical issue. Beyond just the emotion of just fear based advertising or mud slinging, this campaign has conceived more deep seeded emotion than (sadly) most ever have, and that needs to be addressed.
I am angry. I am not bitter, but angry. I feel betrayed by the public of my country and then I feel betrayed by my party. I have over and over again told myself that all of this is separate from Obama, but each time it is harder and harder. Illogical? Yes, but it is there, and I think that had Hillary won, many African-Americans might be having a similar debate with themselves like I am.
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