It is time to up YOUR [insert car name here]

This is the second time I've received an email telling me "It is time to up [my] IS". I have always been a true believer in deferring to car dealership spam. As a result, I am, of course, considering getting into debt for and/or spending my life savings on the following:

1 - 19" forged alloy wheels - $4,092
2 - Brake upgrades - $3,237 (front) $2,677 (back) 3 - Lowering springs - $934
4 - Performance shocks - $1,375
5 - Sway bar kit - $601
6 - Rear chassis brace - $481
7 - Quick shifter kit - $406
8 - Carbon fiber engine cover - $887
9 - Performance air intake - $561
10 - Performance exhaust - $1,576

$16,827? What a STEAL!

Two quick questions:

1. Could someone please tell me what all this crap is?
2. Where oh where can I get the SWEET orange paint job shown here? Black is so 2007.

Indian technology at its best

This is India, the country to which your call gets routed when you have a computer issue or problem to be "resolved" by customer service.  3 cheers for outsourcing to decrease costs!

Tuned in

iTunes = genius. Seriously.

I firmly held to my "don't sign up for iTunes" platform for years... until last night. As Ryan Seacrest foreboding-ly announced, "this years' performances will ONLY be available for download until TOMORROW night at MIDNIGHT", I found myself frenetically trying to determine if that Seacrest's version of "midnight" was EST, CST, MST, or PST. Being unable to come up with a good answer to that question, I threw care to the wind, broke out my laptop, and furiously started searching for my Idol contestants' most memorable performances of the season.

$10.89 + tax, 11 quickly downloaded songs, and thirty minutes later, I silently thanked iTunes for letting me add "songs" to my list of "unreturnable items that can be purchased from the comfort of my own home, as quickly as an impulse can form". I salute you, Mr. Jobs.

Aside from that, I feel inclined to share Karen's conspiracy theory that the entire competition is rigged, and Archie has not only been "in it to win it", but "pre-selected to win it" by the evil producers of the show who can think of no better lines to feed Randy via teleprompter than "you could sing the phone book, dawg". (Seriously? I think that's three weeks in a row, dawg.)

The EW.com American Idol cynic who reports on the show seems to agree with Karen, and presents the following for your consideration:

"And so while I could blather on incessantly about how American Idol needs to crown a hip, radio-ready winner like Rocker David, fans of Little David could just as easily (and very correctly) counter with the fact that tonight's finale was a vocal tour de force for their boy, a tidal wave of glory notes, runs, and misty eyelashes that only the most horrible kind of cynic would try to deny. (Sorry, haters, I'm not volunteering for that kamikaze mission.)

It's weird, my current lack of fighting spirit. Maybe after 41 episodes, I'm too Idol-ed out to rail against Simon Cowell for essentially standing on his seat and reconfiguring last season's Idol coronation theme into ''This Is Archie's Now.'' Maybe after getting repeatedly punched in the face by the episode's overzealous boxing metaphor, I can't get up off the mat and make note of the fact that Randy had been hand-stenciling his ''I'm an Arch Angel 4EVA'' poster for the last several weeks. Heck, even Ryan got in on the action tonight, with a ''Well said, Mr. Cowell'' only seconds after Simon declared the evening a knockout for Archuleta. (Et tu, Hostbot?)"

What do you think?

On another, more embarassing note, I was just at the copy machine whistling and singing Jason Castro's "Somewhere Over the Rainbow"... in what I thought was a soft voice... when someone sitting closeby started laughing and said, "Hey Catherine... Whatcha singing?"

I might actually need to start taking responsibility for all these embarassing experiences and awkward situations that I'm finding myself in...

Pee-O'd

This morning I was proud of myself for taking the high road when I avoided swearing at the big truck that drove by and threw up a rock that chipped my windshield. I found myself wondering why my luck had taken a sudden turn for the worst lately.

When my boss and I went to eat lunch at the Chinese dive we frequent in Draper, my fortune cookie suggested that my luck might be improving--I was happy to learn that "I will never need to worry about a steady income."

However, my luck again took a turn for the worst when I struggled to disembark from my boss's SUV after lunch while carrying a few papers, my leftover hot and sour soup, a mechanical pencil, and the styrofoam carry out container with my leftover rice and entree. My boss was examining the interior of the car parked next to him, and asking me what I thought about it when, suddenly, I started feeling a suspicious warmth in an unmentionable area of my body.

I looked down... and saw that the broth from my entree had flooded the lower half of my shirt and strategically placed crotchal-area of my pants. Good thing I'm wearing grey today, eh? Grey hides dark liquid SO well.

In any case, please be informed that the heat blowing from my space heater is doing shockingly little to dry my pants while I sit here with stickiness all over my legs and other sundry areas. Also, you may be asking yourselves what the best part of this story is... as I sit here, in my work clothes, hiding behind my desk.

Personally, I think the fact that I SMELL VERY STRONGLY LIKE KUNG PAO SHRIMP will help me make lots of progress in breaking Asian stereotypes. What do you think?

Pride goeth before the fall

Have you ever tried to hug asphalt? Have you ever thought to yourself... "I wonder who would win in a fight... hot asphalt or skin?"

For all of you inquisitive minds out there, rest assured--I, and my skin, have the answer to your questions.

Wendy and I took our longboards up the canyon on Friday afternoon for what we thought would be a nice, relaxing ride. I was apparently overly-confident as I approached the first hill... and decided to try to ride down it instead of wussing out and walking down. Unfortunately, the hill was significantly longer and steeper than I had anticipated.

Halfway down the hill, my board started shaking back and forth. This is the conversation that ensued in my brain.

"Hmm. My board is shaking. That can't be good."

"Yes, but I'm already halfway down the hill... I'm picking up significant speed, but I wonder if I can just take it to the bottom."

"That would be one alternative, but I've fallen when the board starts uncontrollably shaking before... that doesn't feel good. The faster I get, the more my fall will hurt."

"In any case, I have to make a decision... like... now."*

That's right, readers. There are many voices in my head.

As experienced boarders would tell you, what I should have done in that situation was try to get my right leg off the shaking board, drag it against the ground, and thereby slow the longboard down. Instead, however, in a rush of pure intelligence, I decided that jumping off the board would be the best alternative.

The following events ensued:

1. My board traveled away from me for a distance of about 30 feet (at very high speeds).

2. I crashed onto the ground and slid across the asphalt on my left leg and knee, the back of my left hand, and my right palm.

3. I lied motionless for about 15 seconds, until I could gather my senses, then turned onto my back (thereby removing my skin from the hot asphalt), and yelled "C-A-T-A-S-T-R-O-P-H-E".

4. A scantily-clad female runner approached steps ahead of Wendy, having heard my skin scraping against the ground and my yell... only to realize that I was laughing at this point (out of pure embarassment) and that there was nothing that she could do besides run the 60 feet to retrieve my longboard and ask if I was okay.

After a quick photo shoot of my injuries (first priority, of course), I summoned the energy to actually stand up and found a water source to wash out my wounds. The blinding stinging that ensued conveniently helped me locate all of my yet-undiscovered wounds. How nice.

Luckily, my car came with a First Aid kit (which the car manufacturer cites as evidence of how much it cares about its customers) with a "cleansing wipe" containing high alcohol content that feels GREAT against open wounds, and tweezers... an integral instrument for my longboarding buddy to removing rocks that are imbedded in wounds and broken skin.

I am sad to report that there has been a fatality--my much-loved watch pictured here, while recognizable, is unrepairable. On the upside, the deep gouges into the face of that watch protected my wrist from getting completely destroyed; therefore, despite my current state of mourning for the watch, I recognize that its sacrifice was valiant.

In conclusion, I know how it feels to hug asphalt. I also know who wins the asphalt v. skin war. Take my word for it, and listen to the voice in your head--the one that calmy reflects on past experiences and tells you to SLOW DOWN.

Asphalt, 1. Catherine, 0. Skin, -10,000.

*Author's note: I don't actually suffer from multiple personalities disorder.

To all non-law-abiding Toyota and Lexus Drivers

Disclaimer: I am a law abiding citizen.

Despite that disclaimer, however, I must pose the following question: do any of you get frustrated with the incessant seatbelt warning dinging that is standard on all newer cars? Do you really believe that the increasing frequency of the dings and their offensive loudness when you're going 2 mph out of your driveway make your ride safer?

I do not. I will monitor my own seatbelt wearing, thank you very much.

And, despite my car manufacturer's promise that the seat can tell the difference between the weight of groceries and a small human being, the car has been wrong on at least one occasion so far.

Therefore, on my first maintenance check, I pleaded with the service guys to remove the dinging from my car. Both the assistant service manager and service technician said that they would be unable to remove the dinging because "it's a safety feature". In my head, I grumbled about stupid lawyers and people suing car dealerships for removing safety features. Boo.

In any case, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Enter: Google, in all its magesty. (Thanks for the tip, Sharon). Apparently there IS a fix online for all Toyota and Lexus drivers:

1. Turn the key to the ON position (press Start 2 times, foot off the brake for IS250 drivers, or turn the key to the second accessory position right before starting the ignition with a normal key)

2. Cycle the odometer with the trip reset button until the ODO is displayed (not trip A or B)

3. Turn the ignition to the LOCK (OFF) position (or turn the car off and remove key)

4. Unbuckle the driver's seatbelt if it was buckled

5. Turn the key to the ON position (press Start 2 times, or turn the key to the second accessory position). When the dash lights have come on, press and hold the trip reset button and count for 30 seconds

6. While still holding the trip reset button, buckle the driver's side seatbelt

7. The odometer display should read "b ON" or "b OFF". Toggle the beep OFF with the trip reset button

8. The process should be completed when you unbuckle or turn the key off

In the poetic words of Gwen Stefani, "Woooo hoooooo. Yeeeee hooooooo."

Car troubles

1 - Yesterday when I went to Costco to fill up my car, I took a look at the gas prices and said (apparently too loudly) "Uuugghhh! So painful!"

Everyone within 15 feet of me turned around to look at me. Oopsie.

2 - This morning I dropped my car off to get serviced. I asked the service guy if he could get someone to drive me to work. He told me he'd give me a loaner vehicle instead because he didn't want one of his "lot technicians" taking three hours to drive me there and back (and thereby avoiding his alternative duty of washing cars) because "the customer wanted to go to breakfast and then I got stuck in traffic"...

I was pleased with the service guy until he asked me "are you 21"? Really?

On an unrelated note, either I'm going crazy or there really is elevator music that's descending into my office from above.

First ride of the season...

An accounting of my prior three summers:

S1: Working from home under intense pressure, long hours (including more than occasional work at 11pm), and serious intellectual stress.

S2: Working at a "family-friendly" firm in Seattle, billing people for 6-minute increments of my life, and commuting 2 hours a day.

S3: Working full time while studying for the bar and breaking out in shingles.

I recently found myself wondering why I was consistently out of shape and slow during the "fun, relaxing" summer months. Answer: see above. Duh.

However, I am turning over a new leaf. I will only be working a single, 40-hour per week job this summer. What a novel concept! As a result, my plan is to break out of the "out of shape and slow" mold... and actually have some fun playing outdoors during the next few months.

This past Saturday was the first installment of fun outdoorsy activities... mountain biking! After unsuccessfully attempting to navigate two trails that were beyond our skill set (note: walking while pushing mountain bikes up steep, narrow mountain trails is not fun), we actually found a fun mountain trail. We were quite proud that we were able to take this picture at the top of the mountain that we had just climbed on our trusty bikes (note: picture has now been removed under protest from one of the individuals pictured).

After we had navigated our way down the mountain, Chantal and I were riding smoothly along a paved road. Sharon, imitating a rabbit, was bouncing up and down on her pedals on this paved road... and succeeded in destroying her shin when her foot slipped off the pedal and her shin scraped all the way down that long rabbit-like bounce. Who would have thought that bouncing up and down on [metal, jagged] pedals isn't always a good idea?

If you ask her how she got this beautiful injury, she will report that she got it "while mountain biking." However, between you and me... I'm pretty sure biking in third gear along a paved road doesn't quite qualify as mountain biking.

Flash it like Beckham

After seeing Beckham from the third row behind the LA Galaxy's benches on Saturday night, I have decided he photographs very well. I wasn't overly impressed by the soccer star/model. Additionally, for the first thirty minutes of the game or so, I thought he was a pansy who didn't try very hard (especially in the midfield).

Then he got the ball close to the goal.

I now realized why he gets paid so much--that man can shoot. My mouth dropped open on both of his goals... as he bent the shots around walls of people on a perfectly-placed (with a whole lot of speed) shot into the upper left corner of the goal. Wow.

However, as I was surrounded by Loyalists (season ticket holders for the ReAl Salt Lake team), I still enjoyed (and joined in) with the fans screaming a combination of the following:

"Beckham, take off your shirt!" (many times throughout the game).

"Princess Beckham, you suck!" or, "Good work, star!" (when he would lose the ball and/or make a bad pass).

"Beckham, the Lakers suck!" (because, apparently, he and Posh frequent games).

My personal favorite which came after Beckham was hotly disputing a call with one of the unpopular refs of the match: "Beckham, why are you yelling at him? HE'S ON YOUR TEAM!!"

At halftime, one fan on the front row dared to yell "Beckham, you suck!" as he was leaving the field. Another fan from row 4 (who was decked out in ReAl gear and a mainstay of the section with his frequent heckling of opposing players) responded, "Wait now... don't say that. We know that's NOT true. The Lakers? Now they suck. That ref? He also sucks. But c'mon... you can't say Beckham sucks." Clearly, ReAl fans only yell true, fair insults at the opposing team.

However, we apparently crossed a line while Beckham was alone and close to our sideline during the second half, while most of the action was occuring on the opposite side of the field. A number of fans yelled, "Beckham, where's your wife?!?!" after which he proceeded to lift up the right leg of his shorts to an unmentionable height, then pick his bum. As my section broke out in laughter, we attributed that action to another reason why Beckham is so highly paid. Not only is he a soccer player and a model... he's an entertainer too.

Oh, and for the record, after the match ended, Beckham did take off his jersey and give it to a fan who was screaming of her undying love for him for the length of the match. I guess he was listening (and amenable to) our heckling. Good to know.

And then 12 hours in Venizia...

Agenda: St. Mark's Basilica, Bridge of Sighs, Realto Bridge (what's with all the bridges, really?), night "bus ride" around lighted Venice.

Highlights:

After arriving via train from Florence, we wandered around Venice for twelve hours until the night train to Rome left at midnight. We weren't overly excited, as we had heard nothing but complaints that Venice was overrated and overpriced. However, with our noses buried in our trusty GPS, we set out to explore every touristy spot, as well as every alley of the city... and were actually quite impressed.

Particularly notable was our people-watching experience at St. Mark's Basilica... vendors everywhere try to sell little packets of pidgeon food, and courageous tourists feed the gluttonous pidgeons for the sake of a good photo op. This older Asian couple pictured above (no relation... and no, not all Asian people are related) proved to be quite entertaining as pidgeons would land on the heads and/or any available appendages of both husband and wife, while pecking uncontrollably at any available food source.

To the left is a shot that Chantal takes credit for (though I pointed the good photo op out). We were also lucky enough to have a relaxing, three course dinner on the canal with night taxi boats driving by as we ate and rested our aching feet.

Now on to Florence.

Agenda: Uffizi Gallery, fake David, Ponte Vecchio bridge, another big-a duomo (green this time), and the bronze doors.

Highlights:

I was very excited to see the Ponte Vecchio after seeing my CFO's awesome picture of the bridge taken the last time he was in Italy. While this picture spares you from the shot I took of the bridge shortly after leaving the neighboring Uffizi Gallery (where the sheeting rain distorted the image quite well), I figure that you can make your own accurate weather forecast by looking at the bright, cheery clouds in this picture. I'm pretty sure that the rain intentionally followed us around Europe.

Nonetheless, we pressed on, saw the green duomo (which was surprisingly also "under construction" in the form of a massive cleaning requiring a great deal of scaffolding with not one cleaner in sight... tax evasion? Anyone? Anyone?), and all the other sites on our list of fun/agenda above.

Despite the many cool sites, my favorite picture from Florence is to the right--on a small Florence street, with personalities evident as Chantal very Vanna Whited-ly shows off Europe's finest, and I... attack the car.

Cinque Terra.

Agenda: Stay along the Italian coast in the famous "five cities" for a couple of days and take a "relaxing stroll" along the national park trail that connects them.

Actual quote from Chantal: "Yeah... the time in Cinque Terra will be really relaxing... we'll just be hanging out along the coast of Italy and doing that walk."

Highlights:

Walk? WALK? My strong senses of reality and justice require that I report that this "relaxing stroll" is actually a 7.5 mile climb/hike in very rocky, steep terrain. Some of the stairs are covered in green (see picture, left). Other stairs are bare and rocky, with no green (not pictured). However, despite any variety in foilage growth patterns, the stairs in all their rocky glory go on and on and on. And then you turn a corner, and they go on some more.

In any case, that "leisurely stroll" was arguably worth it for the amazing views of the ocean/cities that we got from above while on that trail. It would have been nice if I had been smart enough to wear waterproof pants on that hike, or bring an umbrella. It would have been even nicer if it hadn't started pounding rain while we were between cities two and three (Vernazza and Corniglia), with nowhere to go but up some more rocky, and now slippery, stairs. Regardless, soaked legs, destroyed calves and all... Cinque Terra is beautiful.

Additionally, I learned what a cat kingdom might look like if cats took over the Earth--in the middle of two cities, we saw a little family of three cats, a small tent set up for them, and a few feeding bowls. With no other humans in sight and the middle-of-nowhere locale, I found myself wondering where these cats (and their camping gear) came from.

Milano, the city. Not the Pepperidge Farm cookie name.

Agenda: big-a duomo, fried cheese place, gelato, galleria, opera house.

Highlights:

Milano duomo--huge and imposing with scary goth-like statues. Also, it's always under construction due to Italy's law that although churches aren't tax exempt, buildings that are under construction are. I guess people get used to the eternal scaffolding.

Chantal, during the noteworthy gelato-buying adventure (see blog, below). She willingly took one for the team and approached the gelato-selling van with her backpack strapped on and her goal firmly in mind. I was impressed at her ability to hold her own against the pushy italians, and I appreciate her commitment to our pact to eat gelato each day in Italy. Mint chocolate chip gelato never tasted better.