Wee Bairns

There were at least 7 babies on my flight back from Phoenix yesterday. I was in the window seat, with one right next to me. There were also 2 in the 2 rows in front of me. I was sure it was going to be a miserable 4 hours. I've never been one to ooh and ah over other people's offspring. When I waited on tables with infants I felt obligated to make a nice comment to help the tip along, but it was always awkward because I couldn't care less. Give me a puppy over a baby any day.

But these babies cornered me! They were relentlessly cute. I was ashamed of myself. When I noticed the little girl next to me staring at my earrings I pulled my hair back for her to see them better. When she liked my shiny bookmark I handed it to her and she promptly slobbered all over it. When the little boy in front of me popped up over the seat and screamed to surprise me, I was genuinely amused and engaged in gross small talk with his mother--and enjoyed it.

I hate it when women my age say their biological clock is ticking and that's why they obsess over babies. Maybe because I don't want to believe I'm becoming victim to it, too. But no, it's not true. I'm only in a mothering mood because I'm mother to a new baby kitten. Emberzetta, named for my great great great great aunt, is sitting right here next to my laptop now. And SHE sleeps through the night. She even helped me trap a cockroach last night. Try and get a baby to do that.

Greetings from New Mexico

Finally. Internet. I'm such a specimen of the people I think are just sad. Who check their email every 5 seconds and whine when they can't. Actually no, I'm not. I'd much rather be out hiking looking for scorpions and cactus plants and grizzly bears. OK, Ali, my road trip companion and friend of 17 years, told me grizzly bears don't really hang out in Albuquerque. But in my vision of "the West," they do. I'm just getting the North-South part a little off.

Anyway, some people didn't think this trip was a good idea financially. True, I don't have a job yet in Atlanta. But some things I've done so far that have made it all worth it:
1. Drank hand grenades while walking down Bourbon Street in New Orleans, then met and chatted with a stripper in one of the classier strip clubs (according to the concierge at our hotel)
2. Met an animatronic LBJ in Austin
3. Hand fed giraffes in Abilene

Tomorrow we're going to try and visit some American Indian (Native American?) pueblos. All political correctness aside, I LOVE Indians and I have a feeling this is going to be the highlight of my journey.

As if it couldn't get any better, I just found out from my sister/roommate: two kittens will await me when I get home!

Pale is the new tan

Twice in one day I was complimented on my pallid complexion by total strangers. While I was walking down Forsyth Street from the Five Points station yesterday, a man addressed me. "Hello," he said, obstructing my path to the crosswalk as he sauntered in my direction. I wasn't sure what he wanted with me, so I probably looked confused. "You, with the alabaster skin," he said with a smile. He was still talking about the beauty of my pasty face as I crossed the street. I wasn't weirded out--I love creepy hilarious things. I laughed out loud for the next three blocks.

Later, on the same street, a man passing by looked at me and said, "Hey, snowflake." A girl who overheard him looked at me bizarrely and asked, "Did he just call you snowflake?" I said, "Yes." He turned around to make sure I didn't take it the wrong way. "It's a good thing!" he said and waved. Now that gives some validity to the earlier man's comment, I think.

Some people will capitalize on anything...

Even though this picture is creepy, it definitely makes me laugh. They've done their job. I'm probably just being cynical, but how is it that someone has found a way to make money off of laughter without actually having to have comedic talent? These illustrious disembodied heads which emanate concentric circles of giant HA's charge $199 to train you to become a "Certified Laughter Yoga Leader."

"Laughter Yoga combines unconditional laughter with yogic breathing (Pranayama). Anyone can laugh for no reason, without relying on humor, jokes or comedy. Laughter is simulated as a body exercise in a group but with eye contact and childlike playfulness, it soon turns into real and contagious laughter. The concept of Laughter Yoga is based on a scientific fact that the body cannot differentiate between fake and real laughter.One gets the same physiological and psychological benefits."

Actually I kind of like the idea of it. I *might* be writing a story about this for the magazine I'm interning at...but that is yet to be determined. I just like playing devil's advocate on here, it's fun. So is pasting random ass pictures.

"Breaching decorum"

Kanye West ripped the microphone out of Taylor Swift's hand at the VMAs to praise Beyonce's video. Serena Williams cussed out a lineswoman at the U.S. Open. Joe Wilson yelled "You lie" during Obama's speech to Congress. I feel like something's gotten into the water. I kind of like it though.

Kanye spoke his mind and defended his girl Beyonce even at the cost of appearing, well, like a rude fool. That's at least courageous. Serena Williams was just practicing serenity now and not letting her anger bottle up. I would've been mad about such a jackass call, too. Ann Killion for Sports Illustrated noncommittally tried to make some sort of plug for women's equality like because Serena's a WOMAN and got all scary and used profanity, it's okay, or breaks new ground for women? Why does it always have to be about feminism? That's not why I liked it. And Joe Wilson, well. Republican antics are always entertaining. And only helpful when they're like this.

Even worse than all these breaches in decorum which CNN reporters like to roll their eyes at (I roll my eyes at YOU, CNN, for looking down your nose at popular culture but inwardly relishing it and ruining the journalism industry with it at the same time), there's yet another murder on a college campus. A grad student was found dead inside the wall of the Yale lab she worked at. On her wedding day. How inappropriate. How Poe.

But seriously, it's really sad. What the hell? I never used to follow the news...

A room of my own

Never has a microwave chicken alfredo dinner tasted so good. For four long days, I was without a microwave in my new apartment, and it was uncertain when, or even IF, I would be able to bask my food in those glorious, less-than-60-second-cooktime rays of radiation again. Buying frozen food over beautiful fresh vegetables and meats is just the sort of thing I would gripe at my Dad for when I lived with my parents. Of course, that easy fix is exactly what I crave now that I'm on my own and have big people things to worry about. Like buying toilet paper and paper towels, which run out in like, a day. All this, along with wondering if Internet at home is going to become a luxury of the past (thanks a lot, Comcast). Welcome to Atlanta!