Digi-Scene

I'm trying to use the small gym here at the office on a more regular basis now and I happened to get there right at 12:00 today before everyone else arrived. Sweeeetttt! That meant that I could turn on the TV and satellite feed to whatever channel I wanted. I wanted to see what the latest news was on Hurricane Rita, so I turned it to MSNBC.

A few minutes later a couple of 20-something workers from the other company that share our building came in and started fiddling with the other TV set to find something to watch. From the 100's of choices on satellite TV what did they choose?

People's Court.

OK, I'll say it. I'm definitely afraid for the future of this country....

Remember those beds they used to have in cheap motel rooms that you put a quarter in and the bed would vibrate? Wish I had access to some magic fingers right about now....

1. Return overdue library book or wait until I move again.
2. Send audition tape to RealWorld or Elimidate.
3. Break up with boyfriend or change phone number.
4. Hire a maid or a personal trainer.
5. One baby and two dogs or two babies and one dog.

The company I work for is consolidating the rest of our office from two floors to one floor. Somehow they've figured out this means that there is a surplus of plants, so I now have planters on top of my cubicle walls with this vine type plant that is growing DOWN into my cubicle. The shoots are on top of my monitor and obscure at least half of my whiteboard.

The feeling of being a contestant on Survivor is now complete.

*beep*

"Kim? This is your Mom calling. No special reason and you don't need to call me back."

Dammit Mom, you know that I'm on a frickin' dial-up connection here and whenever you call and leave me one of these asinine messages it knocks my computer offline without me knowing it. I had written a most eloquent essay for my blog that was going to win me the praise and admiration of the entire blogosphere and when I pushed Publish, I got the dreaded Page Not Found error message.

*beep*

Oh, bloody hell! I forgot to wait for the beep and this message too is somewhere floating out in space somewhere....

I don't claim to be a particularly good photographer, but with a subject like Nicole, how can you possibly go wrong?

Well, it looks like the blame game has begun in earnest over Hurricane Katrina and the response, or lack of response by government agencies. I'm not going to get into my feelings about that here, but like so many others I've been watching in stunned silence the wave of misery that is pouring out of the Gulf Coast area. I've donated money of course, but I still feel helpless.

I was inspired by this article from a doctor on the frontlines so starting today I'm going to be looking for volunteer opportunities here in San Diego that may help. I'm mandated by my employer to take off from December 23 - January 3 for the holidays and I'm hoping to convince a number of my co-workers to spend at least part of that time in Mississippi with me helping with the rebuilding effort.

Even if we can't do much, we should at least do what we can...

I've always thought of myself as a low maintenance woman.

I'm definitely not a high maintenance woman who has to have acrylic fingernails and a spray-on tan. I don't buy designer clothing. I don't get anything lasered or waxed. I don't expect the man I'm dating to be available to cater to my every whim (and with an open checkbook to boot).

I'm also not a no maintenace woman either. I shave and pluck on a regular basis and not just because I might be getting some horizontal action with a man. I do my own manicures and pedicures and treat myself to a trip to the spa on occasion. I get my hair cut and colored every 6 weeks mainly because it needs it. I buy nice clothing, but usually when it's on sale.

Lately I've been rethinking whether I truly am a low maintenance woman or not. Maybe I'm a high maintenance woman who is lazy. My life is pretty busy with things already, but if I really wanted that fake tan, couldn't I find the couple of hours a week to get it? Probably. If I really wanted a designer outfit couldn't I buy it? Sure.

My problem is that I'm unwilling to give up things I find interesting and fun in order to make time to read fashion magazines, go to the mall, and lay still while someone lasers a landing strip into my bikini area. Do I want to go to the park to take photographs or do I want to let some random woman at the Clinique counter in Nordstrom's draw on my face? The answer to that question is no contest.

I guess what I am is a high maintenance woman with common sense (and a limited amount of cash)...

I admit it. I'm thinking about turning into a hair whore.

Lately I've been seriously considering sneaking around on my current hairdresser of 4 years. I mean she's OK and everything, but where's the excitement? The newness? The wild and crazy stuff of bygone times? She and I have gotten into a rut and I'm seriously contemplating letting someone else touch my bangs (and maybe more if I like that). Me bad?

This all started when I woke up one morning to get ready for work and realized that somehow my hairdresser had introduced the Carol Brady flip into my hair without me knowing it. We used to be able to talk about things like this. She used to take my opinions seriously. Where, oh where did it all go so wrong?

I know I should do the right thing and break it off with her BEFORE I go out and start shopping around for her replacement, but I think it's only fair that I get to test drive a new model before I commit to it. Right? I mean what if the next one isn't as good as she is? Then I'd be totally screwed, you know what I mean?

I will do the right thing however, and not sneak around with Michael, the gay guy at the next station. That's just wrong to flaunt a new relationship in front of your old one in that way. If she happens to notice that my hair color is a little more red than the last time she colored it, I'll have to somehow come up with a convincing lie. Can the sun bleach your hair redder?

I'm not a good liar. At all. *Note to self: take up poker playing BEFORE turning into a hair whore.

...but only because when I scroll the directory on my phone, looking for someone to call and commiserate about my day with, it's the same 5 people who always seem to get a call from me at 5:45 pm saying, "Whatcha doing? I'm sitting in traffic and I'm bored so I thought I'd start dialing..."

Just went back and corrected the grammar on my previous post. Spelling and grammar are important to me because I think that you should care enough to choose your words carefully to express your ideas. I regret the trend in this country that text messaging and other forms of electronic communication have reduced us to. Yes, communication is possible in these shorthand times, but I feel that we lose the richness of language that weaves a beautiful tapestry around our experiences by succumbing to the temptation to take shortcuts like these. Am I out to lunch on this? Can I get an amen out there?

I especially find it irksome among the men online who are looking to meet quality women. Hasn't someone told them that it's kind of important that they don't look like a 3rd grade dropout if they want to meet that intelligent and witty woman of their dreams? I'm going to continue to keep my standards high in this regard and anyone who uses 2 when they mean too, will automatically find themselves in the reject pile.

(This is not directed at my friends who speak English as a second language. I'm actually in awe of your ability to negotiate the quagmire that is English).

My pathetic gardening efforts have resulted in a lone, golf-ball sized tomato that is finally ready for harvesting. As you can see from the grave condition of the plant itself, the patient isn't expected to live much longer, but at least it can die now knowing that it will return to its Creator having fulfilled its purpose in life. And no, its purpose wasn't to produce a beautiful fruit for me to enjoy, but rather that it taught me that even a little bit of love and care can produce beautiful results...

Update: The tomato was sweet and juicy but still the flesh was firm. I'm not a huge fan of tomatoes, but I've also never enjoyed a tomato more.