Cool stuff.
http://www.ritsumei.ac.jp/~akitaoka/index-e.html
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Saturday, July 30, 2005
Third time's a charm
This is the third time today I've set down and tried to do this. It's not like I've had SO many things to do; I just keep getting interrupted.
Last night Erika and I took out my next door neighbor Erick for a little going-away fun. He's been accepted to the clinical psych PhD program at Adler in Chicago, and he leaves tomorrow to stay with family in Birmingham for a while as he looks for an apartment in Chi-town. We ate at the Gumbo Shop which is behind Jackson Square. Erick had eaten there before, but neither Erika nor I had been. That will be one of the places I take people when (if) they come visit me. It's not too expensive (if you don't count the small $7 daquiris, that is) and the food is incredible. By unanimous vote, we decided my crawfish and pasta in tasso cream sauce was the best dish of all three (Erika had shrimp creole which, while good, wasn't nearly as good as the creole I make, and Erick had okra gumbo -- yuck). I really wanted someone to order the alligator piquante, but Erick chickened out after I'd already ordered the crawfish. So, to make y'all hungry: imagine tender crawfish tails swimming happily in a slightly spicy cream sauce with a touch of tasso (a type of bacon) all over perfectly al dente penne pasta. Yeah, I'm ready for another dish.
After that, we headed out for Frenchmen Street, but we (read "I") got way-laid by a street performer who grabbed the hand with which I drive and proceeded to serenade me with an overenthusiastic version of Kenny Rogers' "Three Times a Lady," all the while gesticulating with his free hand in which he was still holding the gum he had been chewing before starting to sing. I am trapped there because the guy is still holding my right hand. So I let him sing and didn't roll my eyes or smack him when he kissed me on the forehead after finishing the song. He wasn't giving me creepy vibes, but I wasn't tipping either.
We finally made it to Frenchmen Street and cruised a couple of blocks to preview the music and decide where to stop. Lack of cover charge and big crowd drew us in to Bossa Nova to listen to the Bad Apples Blues Band. They ain't Jim Byrnes, but they were enjoyable nonetheless. Erick and I were really digging the music, but I could tell that Erika was a little bored. She liked the music, but she was really in a salsa mood, and salsa was pumping out of the Blue Nile bar. So I said let's go to the BN. Normally there's a $7 per person cover to see Freddy Omar con su banda, but Erika frequents the salsa night and knew the doorman, so all three of us got in for $5 flat. I really need to stop having preconceived notions of themed nights because there were proportionally more whites and blacks dancing at the BN than there were Hispanics. Even a particular gimp we all know and love was enticed out on the floor to dance half a song. OK, so I looked more like I was having mechanical problems with my chair, but hey, Freddy and his banda got a kick out of it. At one point, Erika and Erick were dancing (and you'd think a South American guy would know a little about how to salsa, but the Japanese-American girl was more familiar with it ::grin:: -- out goes another preconceived notion), and I was watching everyone and enjoying the music with a smile. Sorry, but you really can't listen to salsa and NOT smile. Anyway, this woman who had danced a couple of songs came up to me and said, "Are you having a great time living vicariously through us?"
Now, it's been a while since anyone has said anything truly stupid and insensitive to me openly in public, but she moved away from me quickly enough that I could give her my witty retort of, "Well, actually, while you were over on your barstool getting drunk off your ass, I was dancing, so p--- off." I could have probably blown off the comment, but she then proceeded to make sure she and her man danced in front of me, and she kept smiling indulgently at me like she was doing me a favor. When Erika came up and asked if I wanted to listen to one more song, I said, "No, I'd rather leave before I'm forced to deck some stupid, drunk b----." Outside, I told her what happened, and she started to go back to the bar, saying, "Oh no, she f---ing didn't!" I headed her off, saying the woman's ignorance wasn't worth it, but Erika mumbled about it all the way to the bus stop.
Speaking of bus stop, here follows the latest in Dawn's bus adventures. First, there was the creepy drunk guy who walked up behind me and just STOOD there. He made my neck muscles clench, OK? After almost a full minute (yes, Erick loses guy points for allowing the guy to stand behind me, leaning on my chair, that long), the guy finally starts asking what corner we're on and which direction is St. Claude and how far is it to Chef (Menteur) Highway. I can barely understand the guy. THEN he starts pushing on my chair and saying, "Help. Help." Erika calmly tells him I'm motorized and don't need any help, thanks anyway. That's when I start saying over and over in my head, "Go away. Head for St. Claude." He finally did.
After that, we almost got left by the bus driver because he thought "we were just hanging out on the corner." Yeah, OK. Whatever. A run stop light and stop sign later, and we were finally back on campus.
Now I'm going to bed.
Last night Erika and I took out my next door neighbor Erick for a little going-away fun. He's been accepted to the clinical psych PhD program at Adler in Chicago, and he leaves tomorrow to stay with family in Birmingham for a while as he looks for an apartment in Chi-town. We ate at the Gumbo Shop which is behind Jackson Square. Erick had eaten there before, but neither Erika nor I had been. That will be one of the places I take people when (if) they come visit me. It's not too expensive (if you don't count the small $7 daquiris, that is) and the food is incredible. By unanimous vote, we decided my crawfish and pasta in tasso cream sauce was the best dish of all three (Erika had shrimp creole which, while good, wasn't nearly as good as the creole I make, and Erick had okra gumbo -- yuck). I really wanted someone to order the alligator piquante, but Erick chickened out after I'd already ordered the crawfish. So, to make y'all hungry: imagine tender crawfish tails swimming happily in a slightly spicy cream sauce with a touch of tasso (a type of bacon) all over perfectly al dente penne pasta. Yeah, I'm ready for another dish.
After that, we headed out for Frenchmen Street, but we (read "I") got way-laid by a street performer who grabbed the hand with which I drive and proceeded to serenade me with an overenthusiastic version of Kenny Rogers' "Three Times a Lady," all the while gesticulating with his free hand in which he was still holding the gum he had been chewing before starting to sing. I am trapped there because the guy is still holding my right hand. So I let him sing and didn't roll my eyes or smack him when he kissed me on the forehead after finishing the song. He wasn't giving me creepy vibes, but I wasn't tipping either.
We finally made it to Frenchmen Street and cruised a couple of blocks to preview the music and decide where to stop. Lack of cover charge and big crowd drew us in to Bossa Nova to listen to the Bad Apples Blues Band. They ain't Jim Byrnes, but they were enjoyable nonetheless. Erick and I were really digging the music, but I could tell that Erika was a little bored. She liked the music, but she was really in a salsa mood, and salsa was pumping out of the Blue Nile bar. So I said let's go to the BN. Normally there's a $7 per person cover to see Freddy Omar con su banda, but Erika frequents the salsa night and knew the doorman, so all three of us got in for $5 flat. I really need to stop having preconceived notions of themed nights because there were proportionally more whites and blacks dancing at the BN than there were Hispanics. Even a particular gimp we all know and love was enticed out on the floor to dance half a song. OK, so I looked more like I was having mechanical problems with my chair, but hey, Freddy and his banda got a kick out of it. At one point, Erika and Erick were dancing (and you'd think a South American guy would know a little about how to salsa, but the Japanese-American girl was more familiar with it ::grin:: -- out goes another preconceived notion), and I was watching everyone and enjoying the music with a smile. Sorry, but you really can't listen to salsa and NOT smile. Anyway, this woman who had danced a couple of songs came up to me and said, "Are you having a great time living vicariously through us?"
Now, it's been a while since anyone has said anything truly stupid and insensitive to me openly in public, but she moved away from me quickly enough that I could give her my witty retort of, "Well, actually, while you were over on your barstool getting drunk off your ass, I was dancing, so p--- off." I could have probably blown off the comment, but she then proceeded to make sure she and her man danced in front of me, and she kept smiling indulgently at me like she was doing me a favor. When Erika came up and asked if I wanted to listen to one more song, I said, "No, I'd rather leave before I'm forced to deck some stupid, drunk b----." Outside, I told her what happened, and she started to go back to the bar, saying, "Oh no, she f---ing didn't!" I headed her off, saying the woman's ignorance wasn't worth it, but Erika mumbled about it all the way to the bus stop.
Speaking of bus stop, here follows the latest in Dawn's bus adventures. First, there was the creepy drunk guy who walked up behind me and just STOOD there. He made my neck muscles clench, OK? After almost a full minute (yes, Erick loses guy points for allowing the guy to stand behind me, leaning on my chair, that long), the guy finally starts asking what corner we're on and which direction is St. Claude and how far is it to Chef (Menteur) Highway. I can barely understand the guy. THEN he starts pushing on my chair and saying, "Help. Help." Erika calmly tells him I'm motorized and don't need any help, thanks anyway. That's when I start saying over and over in my head, "Go away. Head for St. Claude." He finally did.
After that, we almost got left by the bus driver because he thought "we were just hanging out on the corner." Yeah, OK. Whatever. A run stop light and stop sign later, and we were finally back on campus.
Now I'm going to bed.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
From Elizabeth
See what your hobbit name is at: http://www.chriswetherell.com/hobbit/.
Mine is Iris Frumblefoot of Bywater.
See what your elf name is at: http://www.chriswetherell.com/elf/.
Mine is Alatariel Minyatur.
Mine is Iris Frumblefoot of Bywater.
See what your elf name is at: http://www.chriswetherell.com/elf/.
Mine is Alatariel Minyatur.
Monday, July 25, 2005
Never leave Barney and Chad to entertain themselves on a Sunday
Something told me yesterday as I was walking home from the bus stop after a pleasant afternoon at the aquarium with my next door neighbor that I should stick my head in the office. I arrived today to find the grad student office and adjoining computer room COMPLETELY rearranged. ::shakes head:: Why can't boys leave well enough alone? The plus is that my back is no longer to the door, but the minus is that my back is to all my officemates. Do I REALLY trust those yahoos to sit behind me? I wonder about a couple of them . . . especially the one whose name starts with a "C."
Speaking of boys whose names start with "C," he was all worried that I would be upset about the replaced Reba pad, especially after he'd found out someone had made it for me. In case I didn't mention it before, he tried to wash Reba's bed for me while I was gone and apparently had some difficulty with the cover -- like it fell apart and/or he couldn't get it back on the pad. Then he was worried that the new bed was too small for Reba to lay on. ::shakes head again:: Dork. And no, I didn't say that to HIM. Extra point for me.
Speaking of boys whose names start with "C," he was all worried that I would be upset about the replaced Reba pad, especially after he'd found out someone had made it for me. In case I didn't mention it before, he tried to wash Reba's bed for me while I was gone and apparently had some difficulty with the cover -- like it fell apart and/or he couldn't get it back on the pad. Then he was worried that the new bed was too small for Reba to lay on. ::shakes head again:: Dork. And no, I didn't say that to HIM. Extra point for me.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Quiz
My pal Lynlee had this on her blog, and I told her I'd put it on mine. I think you're supposed to answer the questions in the comments section.
1. Who are you?
2. Are we friends?
3. When and how did we meet?
4. Do you have a crush on me?
5. Would you kiss me?
6. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
7. Describe me in one word.
8. What was your first impression?
9. Do you still think that way about me now?
10. What reminds you of me?
11. If you could give me anything what would it be?
12. How well do you know me?
13. When's the last time you saw me?
14. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
15. Are you going to put this on your blog and see what I say about you?
1. Who are you?
2. Are we friends?
3. When and how did we meet?
4. Do you have a crush on me?
5. Would you kiss me?
6. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
7. Describe me in one word.
8. What was your first impression?
9. Do you still think that way about me now?
10. What reminds you of me?
11. If you could give me anything what would it be?
12. How well do you know me?
13. When's the last time you saw me?
14. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
15. Are you going to put this on your blog and see what I say about you?
Here follows the adventures of Dawn and her return to NOLA
After waking on Friday morning from a dream in which I arrived late to the airport and had to run to catch my plane, I headed into town to buy a new battery ($69.99) and earpiece ($19.99) for my cell phone and a new portable CD player ($49.99). Mein Vater had given me $100 the night before just because, and it went a long way to the purchase of these necessities. Yes, a portable CD player is a necessity as it gives me focus during those late night anxiety attacks. Returned home to discover the earpiece wouldn't work with my phone -- contrary to the word of the Radio Shack salesman. Mom went back to town and found an earpiece exactly like mine at the Alltel store, and we threw away the old one. Remember that.
About 2:15 we started loading the van and headed for the airport. My plane didn't start loading until 3:57, so we had plenty of time to get there, check my suitcase, go to the bathroom, and get something to eat. Arrived at the airport, and while Mom parked the van one of my attendants called. I put on my new earpiece and attempted to call her back. It didn't work. WTF??? Then to make things better, we must have entered a time blackhole somewhere. As I was standing in line to check my bag and get my boarding passes (which took fracking forever because of my wheelchair -- yes I know I get on the plane first, yes I know I sit in the bulkhead seat, my batteries are sealed, I need a transfer, blah blah blah), I looked up at the clock and was astonished (actually, mortified) to see it read 3:44. I still had to pee and get through security, but forget eating. Ran to the bathroom, peed, called attendant while peeing, and ran to security. The woman who felt me up (frisked) took her dear sweet time, then we ran for the gate all the way at the end of the terminal -- all to find out the plane was delayed. At first I breathed a sigh of relief and ate some nachos, but as more and more time passed I became worried. I had a little over an hour between flights in Dallas -- was I going to miss the NOLA plane?
Turns out our plane was delayed because of nasty weather in Dallas, so needless to say ALL PLANES were running behind. The new time for my NOLA plane (originally set to leave at 6:47) was 7:17. By the time I got off the Wichita plane and got to the NOLA gate (thank the gods I didn't have to change terminals -- a first for me), the departure time was 8:08.
Then it was 8:28.
Then it was 8:45.
Then it was 9:15.
Then they didn't bother changing it anymore.
We finally started loading at around 10:00 or 10:30. As we taxied toward the runway, the pilot came on to say we had a 45 minute wait for takeoff because of the long queue. Fortunately we only had to wait about 20 or so minutes, and we were FINALLY in the air. After landing, getting transferred, Barney putting my chair back together, transferring again, and riding home, I got home at around 1:15 a.m.
But there were some bright spots to the whole thing:
1. On the Wichita plane, I sat next to a woman whose daughter was in my sister's class in high school. I told her my name, and she said, "Oh, I thought you looked familiar." Her daughter moved to Nashville a year ago to break in to the country music scene and is apparently doing rather well. She has a gig in Boston today, is opening for an act at the Fair in September (mom couldn't remember who), and has several appearances over the next few months to promote her CD. I went to her website last night and listened to a couple of song clips. She has a great voice.
2. There are still really nice people in the world. One in particular is a woman named Jane who sat across from me on the Wichita plane and was also on the NOLA plane. As we all waited to leave Dallas, she shared her pizza with me, got Reba and me water, and helped me get situated in the plane seat after the airline idiots transferred me. There were also two other ladies waiting for the NOLA plane who helped me as well.
3. NOLA now has a wc-accessible taxi!! The shuttle had shut down by the time I got in to town, but the shuttle service manager had arranged for the taxi to take me home. It is a London cab (you can see what it looks like at http://www.taxiadvertising.com/liveried.htm) with a lowered floor and fold out ramp for wc access. The service's number is now in my cell phonebook.
Now it's back to the grind of finding new attendants and thinking about writing a fluctuating asymmetry review. Oh yeah, and figuring out how I'm going to get fish for my research.
About 2:15 we started loading the van and headed for the airport. My plane didn't start loading until 3:57, so we had plenty of time to get there, check my suitcase, go to the bathroom, and get something to eat. Arrived at the airport, and while Mom parked the van one of my attendants called. I put on my new earpiece and attempted to call her back. It didn't work. WTF??? Then to make things better, we must have entered a time blackhole somewhere. As I was standing in line to check my bag and get my boarding passes (which took fracking forever because of my wheelchair -- yes I know I get on the plane first, yes I know I sit in the bulkhead seat, my batteries are sealed, I need a transfer, blah blah blah), I looked up at the clock and was astonished (actually, mortified) to see it read 3:44. I still had to pee and get through security, but forget eating. Ran to the bathroom, peed, called attendant while peeing, and ran to security. The woman who felt me up (frisked) took her dear sweet time, then we ran for the gate all the way at the end of the terminal -- all to find out the plane was delayed. At first I breathed a sigh of relief and ate some nachos, but as more and more time passed I became worried. I had a little over an hour between flights in Dallas -- was I going to miss the NOLA plane?
Turns out our plane was delayed because of nasty weather in Dallas, so needless to say ALL PLANES were running behind. The new time for my NOLA plane (originally set to leave at 6:47) was 7:17. By the time I got off the Wichita plane and got to the NOLA gate (thank the gods I didn't have to change terminals -- a first for me), the departure time was 8:08.
Then it was 8:28.
Then it was 8:45.
Then it was 9:15.
Then they didn't bother changing it anymore.
We finally started loading at around 10:00 or 10:30. As we taxied toward the runway, the pilot came on to say we had a 45 minute wait for takeoff because of the long queue. Fortunately we only had to wait about 20 or so minutes, and we were FINALLY in the air. After landing, getting transferred, Barney putting my chair back together, transferring again, and riding home, I got home at around 1:15 a.m.
But there were some bright spots to the whole thing:
1. On the Wichita plane, I sat next to a woman whose daughter was in my sister's class in high school. I told her my name, and she said, "Oh, I thought you looked familiar." Her daughter moved to Nashville a year ago to break in to the country music scene and is apparently doing rather well. She has a gig in Boston today, is opening for an act at the Fair in September (mom couldn't remember who), and has several appearances over the next few months to promote her CD. I went to her website last night and listened to a couple of song clips. She has a great voice.
2. There are still really nice people in the world. One in particular is a woman named Jane who sat across from me on the Wichita plane and was also on the NOLA plane. As we all waited to leave Dallas, she shared her pizza with me, got Reba and me water, and helped me get situated in the plane seat after the airline idiots transferred me. There were also two other ladies waiting for the NOLA plane who helped me as well.
3. NOLA now has a wc-accessible taxi!! The shuttle had shut down by the time I got in to town, but the shuttle service manager had arranged for the taxi to take me home. It is a London cab (you can see what it looks like at http://www.taxiadvertising.com/liveried.htm) with a lowered floor and fold out ramp for wc access. The service's number is now in my cell phonebook.
Now it's back to the grind of finding new attendants and thinking about writing a fluctuating asymmetry review. Oh yeah, and figuring out how I'm going to get fish for my research.
Is Katie Holmes past saving?
The more I hear about this, the sicker I feel. I used to have a small amount of respect for Tom Cruise, but I think he and Mel Gibson have joined hands and jumped off into the wide chasm of looney tunes, never to utter a sane word again. Check out the links found at http://www.adammessinger.com/2005/07/15/katie-holmes-w-interview by my pal Adam.
If I ever get this stupid over a man (assuming, of course, I ever GET a man), don't waste time trying to save me. Just shoot me in the head. Even if I survive, I'll be less brain-dead than living with a minder and giggling like an idiot and not being able to think for myself.
Maybe Katie's folks need to hire a PI and have her grabbed so they can de-brainwash her.
If I ever get this stupid over a man (assuming, of course, I ever GET a man), don't waste time trying to save me. Just shoot me in the head. Even if I survive, I'll be less brain-dead than living with a minder and giggling like an idiot and not being able to think for myself.
Maybe Katie's folks need to hire a PI and have her grabbed so they can de-brainwash her.