There Was an Old Woman...

For a brief time I was friends with an older woman who, for lack of a strictly scientific description, had several loose screws. There were more than a few signs, but each one in and of itself wasn't particularly disturbing.

One day she bent over to fetch something from her purse, and I noticed a thong rising up several inches above the waistband of her extremely low-rise jeans. I was given momentary pause, during which I thought "Late 40s, right?" The combination struck me as oddly age-inappropriate, but being judgmental is a specialty of mine, so I let it go.

And then I read this article:
"Woman Sues Victoria's Secret Claiming Thong Injury."

And I realized it isn't just age-inappropriate to wear thongs in your later years. It's downright dangerous. And then I felt better because I realized, I wasn't being judgmental when I saw that thong. I was being a concerned friend. Which should come as a surprise to no one.

I Think I'm in Love

This guy is angry:

http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/tor/649999147.html

And I love him.

Feats of Clay

Today, I had a lot of trouble with the news. Some days are worse than others. So many people dead in Myanmar. More victims of the China quake found. The insurgency is gaining strength again in Iraq... None of that really phases me.

But today I dreamed, I mean read, that Clay Aiken is expecting a baby. I know, it stopped me too. It just doesn't compute. It's like reading "Ann Coulter becomes UNICEF Ambassador" or "Study finds fried foods speed metabolism."

But it gets weirder. I mean, for me, it was weird enough because I kind of thought he was gay. Of course, Melissa Etheridge is gay, and she has babies. And lots of gay men have a beard (a female companion who deflects questions about a gay man's sexuality) so maybe Clay has one, she got pregnant so they're conveniently claiming it's his. To be honest, I don't really know a hell of a lot about Clay Aiken and his personal life. And frankly I'd like to keep it that way. But since the headline stopped me in my tracks, I did manage to read the story. Apparently, Clay's best friend is a 50-year-old woman named Jayme Foster, sister of record mogul David Foster. Clay and Jayme live together, and Jayme has been artificially inseminated with Clay's sperm. Yup. You read that right. You don't have to make this stuff up.

And that giant crunching noise you here? My sources tell me it's the universe collapsing on itself.

"Not Everything's Black or White, You Know"

Sometimes people say that to me. Often I consider these people to be stooopid. Because duh, of course not everything is black or white. Only a moron would classify everything as being black or white.

But many things are easy to categorize. Like people. People are easy to categorize. All you have to do is say "There are two kinds of people in this world..." and then complete the sentence with whatever you think is most descriptive. Lately, I've come up with a bunch. And I'm sure now that I'm thinking about it there'll be a lot more, so feel free to check back:

There are two kinds of people in this world-

• The kind who think audience participation is fun, and the kind who wish their chair wasn't bolted to the floor, so they could use it to bash in the heads of the people who like audience participation.
  
  
• The kind of people for whom the yellow light indicates to proceed with caution, and the kind of people who are already think of explanations in case they get pulled over for running what was really barely a red light anyway.
  
  
• The kind of people who stand back and wait for an elevator to empty before entering, and the kind of people who press their noses to the metal, just waiting for the car to arrive at their floor so they can launch themselves in as soon as it opens. Because, of course, there wouldn't be anyone else on it waiting to get off.
  
  
• The kind of people who like to try new foods, and the kind of people who dry-heave at the mere mention of things like curry, or sushi, or, and I can barely type this, tofu.

My four extremely loyal blog readers can feel free to share their own.

With This Ring...

Sophocles said "One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life; That word is love." But things have changed since Sophocles' time, and today sometimes the one word even more freeing than love is bail, as in "your bail has been posted."

Maybe you don't agree, but I suspect dentist David W. Wielechowski, 32, of Shaler, and his newly betrothed, Christa Vattimo, 25, might. On Saturday night, these two lovebirds were arrested at a Holiday Inn in Pittsburgh, after getting into a brawl in a seventh floor hallway and attacking two guests from another wedding party who tried to come to the bride's aid.

The entire story is pure poetry. I can only imagine how much fun it must have been to write. My favorite line: "Wielechowski left alone, sporting a swollen eye, tuxedo pants, a bloody T-shirt and one shoe."

Takeaway? There's no more auspicious place to begin a life together than the Holiday Inn in Pittsburgh, and nothing rounds out the wedding photo album like a thoughtfully composed mug shot.

Read the whole story here: http://www.cnn.com/2008/CRIME/04/29/newlywed.brawl.ap/index.html?iref=mpstoryview
I mean really, you should read it. If nothing else it will make you appreciate your spouse.

It's a Bird

Overheard today while I waited at the social security office in Fairfax:
"Starling is a bird. You live in Sterling. Not Starling. Starling is a bird."
The SSA employee was sharing her knowledge of ornithology with a slightly bemused Indian man, who clearly just wanted to take his paperwork and go.
For some reason, no one else in the waiting area found this as funny as I did. I guess humor really is subjective.

Big Pimpin' (Or "What I Did This Weekend")

I've often heard it said that there's no prettier a place than Virginia in the springtime. Everything's in bloom. There are amazing sights to see, made all the more beautiful by nature's glory. And this weekend I happened to capture one of those amazing sights:


Notice how the flowering tree and bright green grass dramatically set off this pimp's finery. Okay, I'm not sure he's really a pimp. And to be honest, he'd have been quite a site to behold, nature's glory or not.

Of course, all of this may lead you to wonder exactly how I spent my weekend. Alas, nothing quite so interesting as researching a documentary on the world's oldest profession. In fact, it was just another bike race. And not even any place interesting. The building in the upper lefthand corner of the photo is actually my office, around which the Tysons Corner Circuit Race travels. Big points for convenience--it was quite cold here yesterday, and a warm building with internet access and a coffeemaker is not a luxury one enjoys at every bike race. More generally, it's freezing cold or getting sunburned because I forgot sunblock, and seeing how long I can wait to pee, because at literally any bike race, I'd rather pee my pants than set foot in the portable toilet.

I happened to be sitting on the curb, waiting to snap the bikers coming around again, when I heard a strange clomping noise behind me. I looked up and spotted Huggy Bear. In the most heartwarming moment of the day, two small children rounded the corner a few minutes later with their dad, laid eyes on Huggy, and shouted "Santa!" The older one gave him a quick hug around the knees before they continued on up the street.

You see a lot of weird stuff at bike races, at least when you've been to as many as I have. But yesterday definitely made the top of the list. Apparently, though, the guy was just there to watch the race like everyone else.

P.S. Ruth, I mean it. I really do know my sight from my site. Geez. I'm so embarrassed. I may never blog again...