You're so vain, you probably think this post is about you

So I'm a bit broke. Has less to do with work/jobs than it does with traveling/being financially irresponsible. Luckily, in case you are worried, there are things you can do to help.

First, send my money. I like cash. A lot.

Second, pay for my dog's food. She eats. A lot.

Third, buy me lots of birthday presents. While this won't increase my cash flow, per se, it will make me happy. I like presents. A lot.

If none of these options seems like fun, then perhaps you are a selfish person. Maybe you should think about your selfishness a little, huh? I mean, take a look in the mirror. Do you like the selfish bastard staring back? Sigh. What on earth is this world coming to? Maybe it's time you put other people first, do you think?

And guess what song is currently stuck in my head? I'll be walking into a party this weekend like I'm walking onto a yacht . . .

Phoenix, take 2

Man, I have that Blue October song "Hate Me" running through me head non-stop. I found myself humming it at the store today, which I'm sure made my fellow shoppers feel all tingly about me. Must . . . sing . . . different . . . song . . . now.

Back to Phoenix.

Friday night, after the road rage incident, Cole, his friend Pat, and I went to a different bar. One that would hopefully not feature bullets or cops. So we went to Alice Cooper's bar (oh yes) Cooperstown. The waitresses had to wear make-up a'la Cooper. It was nice.

The best part about this bar was the fact that there was a two-man singing/guitar-playing band. These guys themselves weren't that spectacular, but the middle-aged men who kept demanding eighties metal songs of them were. You just haven't lived until you've seen a guy in a polo shirt do Axel's snake dance. Sex-ay. But they were entertaining.

The next day featured a delicious breakfast of waffles. Damn, I loves me some waffles. This was followed by a trip to a truly great new and used bookstore. Where Cole might have bought me some early birthday presents. My birthday, in case you are wondering, is a rapidly-approaching mere 38 days away. I loves me a good birthday, too.

Anyways, I'm bored with Phoenix so that's about it. Caught my flight and came back to Pullman. Off to Portland in two days, and then I think I'm stuck here for the next month or so. Which *subtle hint* is about when my birthday is.

Sweet home Arizona

Ok, Phoenix does not rank for high on my list of great American cities. But I did enjoy yet another weekend out of Pullman. And in very warm weather. With palm trees.

Let's see, I arrived in Phoenix and due to my tardy flights (thanks, Southwest), I checked into my hotel and headed off right away to the stadium to watch the Diamondbacks play the Giants. My friend Cole was joining me there later, after he killed some bees and got lost in Phoenix.

Diamondback fans, for the record, are incredibly boring. Granted, they didn't have the racist props that the Braves did, but they were boring just the same. The true fun came from the drunk lady in front of me. She tried her hardest to start a wave, yelling at the crowd, and doing everything in her power to get us pumped up. I was with her, but I might have been alone in this sentiment. But that's just me, supporting all alcoholics.

The row of kids behind me were also fun, as they screamed things out at Barry Bonds for being a big fat cheater. True to my word to my father, I joined in on my boo-ing. Bonds sucks. Drugs are bad, mm-kay?

After the game, Cole and I headed back to the hotel where he had to sit through (a) my marathon ironing session because I hate wrinkles and (b) my gushing over Stephen Colbert. And I don't care what Cole says, I can love Stephen with no shame. Here's where Cole's best quote of the weekend came in. Noticing that I had a loose thread on my shirt, I asked him if he had a pair of scissors or a pocket-knife. After rustling through his bag, Cole informed me that he didn't have those, but he did have some floss that I could use.

Now, I know that I'm from Idaho so maybe I'm a bit slow, but do people often use floss to cut thread? How exactly does one use string to cut string? Cole's California wisdom at its finest.

Let's see, the next day I went to my conference which went well. Then I skipped out to see all the sights that Phoenix had to offer. Not much, as it turns out. The best thing about Phoenix was riding around in Cole's Mustang. Even though he almost killed me by going the wrong way down a one-way street.

Speaking of scary experiences, apparently all the cool kids in Phoenix have massive road rage. We were two minutes too late to see an incident, but we were just in time to see a police officer putting at least ten bullet casings into an evidence bag. That's right, some guy was cut off in traffic so his logical response was whipping out his gun (yup, I said whipped out) and opening fire. Silly me, in this situation I would have just sworn under my breath and flipped off the offending party, with my finger well-hidden under my dash. I do that since you don't know what kind of crazies you're going to run into. And Phoenix has justified this for me.

Ok, Curb Your Enthusiasm is on now, so thus endeth the Phoenix stories for one day.

Elvis returns my love

Okay, so my friend Lyndsay sent me this email test thing. For some reason, I refuse to respond to these things in an email but I will put it on my site. What you do is get out your Ipod (or open your music on your computer if you're all ghetto and don't have an Ipod), put your music on shuffle, and then use the songs IN ORDER NO CHEATING to answer the following questions.

Sad but true, I thoroughly enjoyed doing this even though it showed me that my taste in music is somewhat shame-inducing. It was still fun. Try it.

1. Will I get far in life? Earth Angel by the Fleetwoods. I like where this is going. I am a little angel.

2. How do my friends see me? Take This Job and Shove It by Johnny Paycheck. This typically is my response to working, so this could be accurate.

3. Where will I get married? Viva Las Vegas by Elvis. Swear to God this is what came up. Somewhere in Washington, there is a happy little Ace. I might have squealed a bit.

4. What is my best friend's theme song? Creep by Stone Temple Pilots. See, this is laugh-out-loud fun. You can all try to figure out which creep is my best friend.

5. What is the story of my life? Dream On by Depeche Mode. There's a lot of implications here that I choose not to go into.

6. What was high school like? Blister in the Sun by Violent Femmes. This got funnier and funnier as I thought more and more about the lyrics.

7. How can I get ahead in life? Rhythm Nation by Janet Jackson. I think this quiz is telling me to quit my job and do what I love to do most: Dance. Dance. Dance.

8. What is the best thing about me? Promises, Promises by Naked Eyes. Huh. What's up with this?

9. How is today going to be? Sympathy for the Devil by the Stones. Now, am I to be sympathizing for the dark Lord, or is this answer implying that I am the devil and people should sympathize for me?

10. What is in store for this weekend? Every Breath You Take by the Police. Apparently I will be stalked in Portland. I'm okay with that.

11. What song describes my parents? Urgent by Foreigner. Well this is all sorts of weird. Not quite sure what to do with this one, either. Although my father would be less than pleased to know that a Foreigner song was used to describe him.

12. My grandparents? Poor Little Fool by Ricky Nelson. This is kind of mean. Try not to mock my senile grandparents.

13. How is my life going? It's Only Make Believe by Conway Twitty. I don't think I like where this is going. First, Dream On is the story of my life and now apparently my life is make believe. Is this all a facade and really I'm a lunch lady in Alabama? What on earth?

14. What song will they play at my funeral? Shang-A-Lang by Bay City Rollers. This song is kind of a celebration song, so I'm not sure which worries me more: that my friends would be playing a happy song to mark my passing, or that a Bay City Rollers song in general is being used. Please to not be using this at said funeral.

15. How does the world see me? Blue Dress by Depeche Mode. Okay, what? Although this song is kind of dirty if you listen to it, so maybe it does make sense. Also, I was Devil in a Blue Dress for Halloween a few years ago. Is that what it means?

16. Will I have a happy life? Everybody Hurts by REM. Excuse me? That's a nice little ray of sunshine for this Monday. Damn.

17. What do my friends really think of me? Shattered by the Stones. Things seem to have taken a turn for the worse. Do you really see me this way? Is it because I have weird obsessions?

18. Do people secretly lust after me? Bring Me to Life by Evanesence. Whatever. I'm just glad this one wasn't Dream On.

19. How can I make myself happy? Walking After Midnight by Patsy Cline. Late-night strolls will make me happy, huh? Yes, that seems in character for me.

20. What should I do with my life? Love Me Tender by Elvis. Here's how I choose to interpret this: Elvis himself is asking me to love him tender. I read it as an imperative sentence. Is this why you all think I'm shattered?

21. Will I ever have children? Hey Mr. Tambourine Man by the Byrds. I'm getting knocked up by some guy in a band? And not even by the cool drummer, but by the guy who plays what is arguably the gayest instrument ever. Oh, god, I'm having Davy Jones' baby.

22. What is some good advice? Sowing the Seeds of Love by Tears for Fears. This actually is good advice. No sarcasm then.

23. What is my signature dancing song? Blasphemouss Rumours by Depeche Mode. Great, my signature dancing song (sigh) is a song that goes off on God. Apparently my dance moves will be aided by avoiding lightning bolts.

24. What do I think my current theme song is? Under Pressure by Queen and David Bowie. Nice, stress apparently marks my life. As an added bonus, this is the song that Vanilla Ice ripped off. This seems like a great theme song all-around.

25. What does everyone else think my current theme song is? Rush by Depeche Mode. Keeping the theme alive from question 24. This just tells me that I need to download the Brady Bunch theme song, because really I think that that would be a more appropriate answer.

26. What type of men/women do you like? You Can't Hurry Love by the Supremes. I like procrastinators. Sweet.

Why do I have to take my shoes off?

Since I've been traveling quite a bit over the last few weeks, I have come to view myself as a pseudo-expert in the traveling arena. I have come up with my "Top 5 Traveling Tips" to help out anyone who has an airport in their foreseeable future. I like to be helpful.

1. Never, ever fly on Southwest. If there were awards for the airline with the most window-lickers employed, Southwest would win hands-down. But there their success ends. First, they have no clue what that thing on the wall is or how it works. You know that thing, the round object with numbers 1 through 12 on it, and two hands that move around?

I like to call this a "clock." And in America we use "clocks" to tell "time." Thus, if my ticket has a "time" on it, I would use said "clock" to figure out when this "time" is, and when my flight will be taking off. Southwest apparently just randomly prints out numbers on their tickets with no regard for the clock. And their peanuts suck. And open seating sucks. And their overhead lights suck. And I'm sticking to Delta, thank you very much.

2. If a man invites you to be his sixth partner for entrance into the mile-high club, say no. No. No. No. Unless he's super-hot, or you're super-bored. Luckily for me, he failed on this account and I had a book to read.

3. Don't buy black luggage. You and the other 40 million people at the luggage carousel all have impeccable taste, sure, but is it really worth it to have to grab every bag that comes by you in the vain hopes that this black bag out of 5 ka-billion might be yours? Not so much.

4. Make plans or do some research for the city you're going to. I wasted a good 75 minutes wandering around downtown Phoenix trying to find a good bookstore (and feeling not a bit guilty that I wasn't at the conference). My mission was a failure, but I was able to people-watch. Quick question: when did denim shorts with a crease in the front stage a comeback in men's fashion? Or is that just in Phoenix? It's a sexy look, especially when teamed up with ultra-white legs, black socks, and sandals.

5. I don't have a fifth tip, but "Top 5 Traveling Tips" sounds better than "Top 4 Traveling Tips." Right?

I never got my Cracker Jacks . . .

On Friday, I met Laurie and Raymond and we decided to take a tour of Turner Field. Our behind-the-scenes look featured our robotic tour guide (who NEVER deviated from her script), a glance into Hank Aaron's office, entrance into the press room, sitting in the dugout, and posing for pictures at home plate.
___________
Unfortunately for my touring friends, only I remembered to bring my camera. And I just might be the worst photographer ever. Yet, ironically, I love to take pictures. So here are just a few of the over 40 (yes, forty!) I took at the field, and then later at the game we went to.

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Yes, this is what it called the "Tomahawk Chop." Can people get away with this in 2006? Yes, they can. I too could have participated in the Chop, but I was too cheap to shell out the $8 for the foam tomahawk. And I didn't really want to pay for membership into the Redneck Society Club, Georgia Division. It's classy, though, yes? This was only added to when, at the conclusion of the game, the man sitting next to me, Billy Bob (as I call most Southerners who live up to stereotypes), loudly yelled with his fists in the air, "The South shall rise again!" No trip to the South is complete without a reference to the War of Northern Aggression.

___________
I cannot believe how much fun I had at the game. Of course, supply me with some hotdogs, beer, and ice cream, and I can pretty much have fun wherever. Add into the mix around 40,000 Braves fans (of whom at least 60% were missing teeth or wearing wife-beaters or had names like Billy Bob and Peggy Ann) and I was one happy little sports fan.

___________
Oh, and the Braves won. Probably had a lot to do with my semi-coherent cheering. I'm a whistler. People should take me out in public more often. I kick ass by the truckload.

Caught in a trap

Okay, before I get to my conference/Atlanta summary, let me just say Happy Birthday!! to my brother! Singing phone call to follow later tonight.

Back to my recap of the Dirty South.

My conference went well, but, alas, Stephen King was a no-show. Probably for the best, since Lord knows I don't need yet another celebrity to issue a restraining order. But I'm pretty sure my paper on domestic abuse and King will turn into an article. That few will read, but many will talk about. Or something.

Anyways, since I was footing the bill for this trip, I had to cut corners wherever I could. One of these corners involved sharing a room with two other conference participants whom I had never met before. One of them was great--interesting, intelligent, fun, etc. The other was a fashion design student and I had to be all judge-y, but man was she ever a fashion design student. Her stated goal is to be Carrie from Sex and the City, but to me she was more Donna from Beverly Hills, 90210. She's lucky she made it out of Atlanta alive. Oh, and she was Canadian.

Best quote from Canadian Donna, while looking over a menu: "Ohmygod! Like, I love pasta, but it has so many carbs! This is the worst decision I will ever have to make!"

EVER? Even more so than how high the hem on your skirt should be or what shade of eyeshadow to wear? No!!! Sorry about this pasta-themed Sophie's choice, sweetie. Your life, Canadian Donna, is rife with extremely difficult decisions. How you struggle on, I'll never know. Whew, I'd sure hate to be you. Everyday for you must be like Truman's decision to drop the bomb--gut-wrenching and soul-searching. Carbs? Or enjoying dinner? Damn it! Too hard!

Moving on.

At one panel I attended, which discussed interpretations of Gettysburg, I sat next to this guy who kept humming the theme from Green Acres. It took everything in me to not join in. I do a killer Eva Gabor. "I get allergic smelling hay!" I did get a case of the church giggles because of this humming incident, which I'm sure impressed the presenters as they looked out and saw my shoulders shaking while I attempted to get my giggling under control. I'm such a grown-up.

Oh, I ran into someone I went to high school with at the Atlanta airport. Maybe I should say that I allegedly went to high school with him, since I have no idea still who this guy is. But he knew me by name. So that was weird.

The best panel I went to was, in my opinion, directed by God himself. It was supposed to be on popular culture reactions to WWII. One of the papers was entitled, "German-Americans in WWII," but the presenter changed his mind the day of the talk and decided to look at Americans serving in Germany in the 1950s. His focus--and here is where the divine intervention figured in--was ELVIS in Germany. What are the odds that I would just randomly go to a panel on something seemingly unrelated to the King, and end up listening to a delightful discussion of this man's personal experiences with my hero? God has thus redeemed himself to me.

God bless that panel. And Elvis. God bless Elvis.

More on Atlanta to come. I need to go listen to "Suspicious Minds."

He was catching?

And I'm back from Hot-lanta. Yes, I know that that nickname is corny and semi-annoying, but it's fun to say. Try it. And it was hot down there. And lanta.

I'll be typing up my written summary of the trip later (probably today, since I know I won't feel like doing any work), but for now I just want to comment on a few things.

A) I went from 85 degree weather to 40 degrees. I hate Pullman.

B) I have heard "U Can't Touch This" (that's right; MC Hammer) three times in the last two days.

C) Sleep deprivation truly brings out the retard in me. Just ask the kind people who tried to help me find my keys. Which were in my purse. Which I had looked through 5 times.

D) Last night's Sopranos made me laugh harder than any person ever should. WATCH IT. And be prepared for the least politically correct sentences ever. Seriously, I look excellent in comparison.

Where are the damn Mayflowers?

Pullman weather is tricky. And evil. Tricky, evil Pullman weather.

The skies were all clear and sunny this morning so I thought that I would wear a nice spring-y skirt. It's linen and cream/khaki colored (I can't really tell, but I'm pretty sure it's light-colored). I also decided to wear some heels.

The sunshine and clear skies lasted until approximately 3:15 pm. It was at this point that I was walking back to my car, a ten to fifteen minute walk. I was about halfway between my car and my office, when apparently God looked down and said, "Hmm, let's see, Ace looks completely unprepared for less-than-stellar weather, and she's nowhere near shelter. And it's Tuesday. And I'm bored. Let's see what we can do."

And the skies opened.

A torrential downpour ensued and I got soaked. SOAKED. And my cute skirt? Turns out, in case you were curious, that when wet, said skirt becomes translucent. That's right, little Ace put on a little flash show today. Wet T-shirt contest? Too tame for me. Bring on the completely-see-through-plastered-to-the-skin skirt any day.

Sex. Ay.

And then I fell and twisted my ankle.

Soaking wet and gimped out. Will I miss Pullman? Not so much. Silver lining to my cloud from a vengeful God: they make Girl Scout Cookies ice-cream! Thanks to Dwayne's brilliant tip, my evening is set. All I need is a spoon.

Oh, Tony

Sopranos + a wedding-themed episode = one happy Ace

My cable was an excellent investment. I have no regrets.

Doing my part as an American

Two stories regarding my finances.

First, yesterday a dime fell out of my pocket as I was getting my cell phone out. This was right next to my car in the parking lot, and I was running a bit late so I decided that I was too lazy to bend over and get my ten cents.

Fast forward to that afternoon and I'm back in the lot. As I'm getting into my car, I look down and see said dime on the ground. I decided to pick it up. The ass-hat parked next to me sees this and makes a comment about how cheap some people are. I felt righteously indignant. It was my damn dime! I work hard for my money! Well, I work for my money.

Second, I bought not one, not two, no, not even three, but SIX pairs of shoes today. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 . . . 6! In my defense, there is a great annual sale at Macy's, where all pairs are $14.99. Now, two weeks ago I would be having major guilt trips but I'm okay today. Why, you ask?

I wasn't planning on working this summer, since I have this horrendous exams to take this fall and I was told that studying for those WOULD be my job. But then I was offered a job teaching a great class for the first six weeks. It's in my field, it will be with seniors, mainly history majors, and it pays. So I said yes. Now I have some extra cash.

Well, I did. Now I have some kick-ass shoes.

Dirty dolls

So I went to this lecture today by a well-known Lewis and Clark historian. He's been traveling for the last three years, giving lectures for the bicentennial.

I don't remember how, but he started talking about the random Lewis and Clark souvenirs people could buy and he mentioned a doll set with Lewis, Clark, Sacajawea, York, and Seaman (the dog) that came in a canoe. Here's the kicker: the dolls all have removable clothing. Removable clothing.

The guy then said, "I don't know who would want to see Clark without his clothes." I leaned over to Laura and whispered, "Lewis."

Crickets.

But whatever, these dolls do exist. And their clothing is removable. Go see for yourself: http://shop.store.yahoo.com/monticellostore/120103.html

I can't imagine who would want these dolls, but I own an Elvis lamp so perhaps I shouldn't judge.

Radio fun

Ok, I realized I just posted but I just heard an ad for Preparation H Wipes--for relief on the go!

And I'm still laughing.

Daddy Dearest

Today's my dad's birthday and he told me the saddest thing ever: he is on a diet (doctor-ordered) and will not be having any birthday cake.

No.

Birthday.

Cake.

I live 9 hours away from dad, so lest you think I'm selfishly only thinking of myself and was hoping to get some birthday cake, I was not. Nine hours is a little too far to drive for cake. Although some cake does sound pretty damn good right now. No, I'm just sad for my father. He said he might have some yogurt tonight instead, and I spent five minutes trying to figure out how to get a candle in that. I don't think it would work. Might be worth a shot, though.

But happy birthday, dad, even though hell would freeze over before I ever gave you this web address, because you do not need to know the things that your precious little Ace thinks about. And, in a show of my daughterly devotion, I shall eat some cake tonight in honor of your birthday. And maybe some ice cream. And cookies.

Speaking of birthdays, mine is in less than two months. Let the planning commence! And by commence, I mean continue, because I'm assuming that you have all been planning since June 3rd of last year.

Here's a quick list of things I want: Sopranos DVDs (every season), my day-glo legs to be perpetually tanned, a new bike, some gift cards to Amazon.com, dinner at O'Meara's, free cable, my dog to be less neurotic, and a photographic memory. Hop to, kids, 59 days and counting and some of these items might take some time-intensive shopping.

I might be blind

Ok, so I have been sitting in front of my computer for the last 9 hours. That's right--NINE hours of my life that I will never get back. I'm pretty sure that's the only guaranteed way to make you go blind. Well, I guess there is that *other* way, but I don't want to judge anyone.

Anyways, with the minor exception of a few random phone calls, my ass has been parked right here all day until I was finished with my work. And while that might beg the question of why, since I'm done working, I'm still sitting here typing, I'll just answer that that's how devoted I am to this blog. Through my near-blindness, I struggle on for each and every one of you who reads this. Uh, both of you.

And to stop my friend Cole from bitching about me never updating.

So I've been a bit busy, but I'm traveling for much of April and I had to get ahead on all of my work. Damn, makes me proud even re-reading that. I'm such a good little worker. But so were the Nazis, so maybe I shouldn't be so proud.

On a different note, am I the only person who loves Daylight Savings? I was so excited this morning, but it appears that no one else is. I love mornings, though, and I greet each and every one with a little song and dance as an ode to the beauty that is the a.m.

And this is why I live alone.

Anyways, I'm currently house-sitting at this super-sweet, gi-normous house and I'm pretending, now that I'm done working, that I'm on vacation. I think for dinner I shall have a margarita and kung pao chicken. Because that's how I vacation. I shall partake of said dinner on my second-floor balcony, whilst enjoying the view, and pretending that Pullman, school, and work are far, far away.

Jealous? Suck it.

Reno 911

Oh, Mike Reno.

So the Loverboy concert was last night. Oh, I'm sorry, did I mention that it was a double bill and Eddie Money was also there? I'll get to him in a second, because first I want to detail all the ways that Loverboy kicks ass.

I don't care how fat Mike Reno got, and how tightly his T-shirt fit, that man can still sing. And sing he did. Sing. Sing. Sing. And little Ace enjoyed it very much, while singing loudly to "The Kid is Hot Tonight!" Damn, I'm pretty good too. Or something.

I highly recommend that everyone go see Loverboy in concert, if only for the lewd hand gesture during "My Lady of the Eighties" during the line, "She makes it easy, she makes it hard." Uh yeah, figure that one out for yourself.

And as good as the Loverboy concert was, it was only heightened by the sheer classiness of my fellow concert-goers at the Coeur d'Alene Casino. Good times.

Eddie Money, though, was no Loverboy. It is my personal opinion that Eddie had already taken his "tickets to paradise" before the concert because he was, uh, a bit out of it. It was great to see a man past middle-age try to dance, though. And someone forgot the majority of the words to his songs, and also cut the set pretty short.

It was still well worth it, though. And, for the record, there were no red leather pants. Sigh.