Picture Report: Interlaken

I have been a shell of a human for the past week. Despite my best efforts, I have been unable to convince anyone (including the sun that all of a sudden won't set) that 7pm is an acceptable bedtime. As a result, I usually take a short nap after dinner to give me enough energy to last until my "reasonable" 9:30pm bedtime. I'm living on the edge, friends. That's right, living on the edge.

On the upside, despite my clearly weakened and exhausted state, I haven't yet been fired from my job for excessive vacationing or diminished mental acuity (aka "stupidity"). I can't complain--life is good.

I finally compiled and arranged all of my pictures on Sunday, which I am now prepared to share with the world (that's you). Above, you see a shot taken from a street in Interlaken with a pretty budding tree in the foreground and the Alps in the background. Interlaken = gorgeous. Well, let's be honest. Most of Switzerland = gorgeous. We got to know the streets of Interlaken well... as we wandered around in search of food.

And, as if that weren't enough, we also learned how to stop a smoke detector from doing its job (detecting smoke) from the handy dandy display on the ceiling in our room. I live to learn.

What's YOUR prime concern?

Some report I was listening to on NPR this morning reported that "paying for gas" was the prime economic concern for Americans... other concerns such as paying for food, paying the rent/mortgage, and finding a well-paying job fell behind "paying for gas" on the worry scale. Interesting.

Conveniently enough, I also fell upon an interesting article on MSN Money Central today addressing the oft-asked question, "Is there something that consumers can do now to immediately drive prices down?"

I am sorry to report that the answer to that question is "no". Apparently, "as with weight loss, there is no quick fix, and the only answer is predictably not sexy: Consume less. Choose fuel efficiency, car pools, public transportation, your legs. With time, an across-the-board, consistent drop in demand should equilibrate prices." Steven D. Levitt, author of Freakonomics (which tops my list of book favorites, by the way), called the recurrent one-day boycott idea a "new low in economic thinking." So a recession AND a new low in intellectual thought? Awesome.

In other words, to decrease gas prices, we should all promise to stop joining those popular Facebook groups that call for boycotts of gas on specific days, sell our Hummers or gas-guzzling SUV (if we can), and take a walk to Walmart to do some grocery shopping. I'm in.

I don't do this... promise.

Last pictureless blog

My blog has become quite drab without any pictures lately. Nevertheless, I will press on... I'll get my trip pictures uploaded eventually.

Ancient Rome, Italy: Ancient Rome is cool and deserved its own day of endless walking. The Colloseum was my favorite part of the trip. However, that visit solidified my opinion that the Roman Empire was destined to fall as all art, memorials, buildings, etc. represent that the civilization was concerned only with power, prisoners, and war. Silly Romans. Additionally, pretty much any life, bodily, or attitude ailment can be cured with a single dose of goodness from Rome's famous Gelateria. How I miss that place.

Naples and Pompei, Italy: Erupting volcanos are quite destructive, and create some disturbing castes of people who were killed quickly then buried in ash. (Sorry, but it was kind of a dreary trip to those places.)

In any case, I'm back from my rockin' trip.

Lessons learned include:

1. Air quality is severely affected if every person around you chain smokes an endless amount of cigarettes,

2. Knowing the general sleeping/store closing schedule of your town is integral if you don't want to make meals of smashed Cheese Nips, tap water, and beef jerky,

3. It is safe to assume that any drink you are "treated" to on the house will contain copious amounts of alcohol,

4. Bathrooms on trains will not smell of waste when "flushing" causes such waste to dump directly onto the track and air from the moving train to blow up the toilet opening,

5. Making out at public places including: any plot of grass or bench with a view of the Colloseum, the Trevi fountain (especially at night), or on any Metro train is a totally appropriate activity, and

6. Avoiding pickpocketers is easy if you recognize the threat, change your walking speed erratically through the Metro station, move to the side to let the potential pickpocketer pass, and, when all else fails... stare him down with beady Asian eyes.

Pictures will be forthcoming.

Blog for Suzy, wife of Owen.

I've been reprimanded for not appropriately keeping up with my blog, despite two important facts: 1) I cannot possibly write entertaining blogs about my crusades around Europe without appropriate pictures and commentary, and 2) I am going to need my brother to perform surgery to stop the hand tremors caused by typing on the tiny keys of my crackberry. However, in a spirit of loyalty to Suzy and the blog world in general, here is a quick list of lessons I have learned from the random cities I have visited over the past week or so.

1 - Zurich, Switzerland. Flying into Switzerland sure is nice. However, when the first thing you do upon disembarking the plane is shell out $220 for train tickets within the country, I'm going to admit... you are left with a bit of a bad taste in your mouth.

2 - Interlaken, Switzerland. Bongo-like drums can accompany piano and vocal solos at any hour of the day or night. 1 am is a prime concert-starting time, and any casual inquiries from weary travelers may be adequately dismissed with the comment 'welcome to the world of backpacking.' Precious.

3 - Grimmewald, Switzerland. The Alps rock. Snowboarding on the Alps might have been even cooler, but taking pictures and wandering around the Park City-esque resort town can be quite relaxing.

4 - Lucern, Switzerland. The combination of a charming city, random bridges over water scattered throughout town, and Swiss chalets on rolling green meadows against the backdrop of lakes and the Alps in rural towns outside the city limits are breathtaking. However, if you think you will not have to buy a $6 McDonalds milkshake after eating a teeny $150 'dinner', you would be wrong.

5 - Milan, Italy. Visiting the main tourist sites in Milan over the course of 3 hours and with a 22 pound pack strapped to your back is totally possible. However, chances are good that you will be laughed at by a number of Italians in the process (see prior blog).

6 - Cinque Terre, Italy. The 5 cities nestled in the Italian coast are awesome, picturesque, and so worth the hike. However, if you do choose to do the 7 mile hike between all 5 cities, you will face a ridiculous (- ridiculous, + charming) amount of rocky stairs, which are better managed when rain is not pouring down all around you (lack of rain comment is not based on actual experience).

7 - Florence, Italy. The Uffizi Gallery has some pretty great paintings and sculptures, though I must admit... the painted and sculpted women from whatever period was represented in the Uffizi cannot be considered even mildly attractive according to modern standards. The Ponte Vecchio bridge is pretty, filled with hoity toity shops, and perfect for buying a charm of none other than a miniaturized Ponte Vecchio bridge.

8 - Venice, Italy. Boats as taxis and ferries as busses? Venice is a must-see city. However, if you think you can get your daily gelato fix at 11 shortly before boarding a night train to Rome and not freeze to death while waiting in the train station until midnight, you are once again, sorely mistaken.

9 - Rome, Italy. No tourist experience is complete without getting pickpocketed on your first ride on the Subway, then waiting on the floor for almost two hours outside your locked B and B for the manager to arrive, while fending off stares and angry words by old Italian women living in the same building. Welcome to Roma.

10 - Vatican City. The 'Garden Tour' actually gives you a detailed tour of the whole city, which basically houses the Pope and his entourage. St. Peter's Basilica is the largest, most ornate piece of artwork I have ever seen, and Michaelango's La Pieta is amazing, though now housed behind bullet-proof glass and therefore hard to catch on film because of a stupid, rowdy tourist. Oh, and the Sistene Chapel? Worth the aching feet, endless droning of the tour guide, and seven million other pieces of art you must first wander through and view.That's a report of the first ten cities... just a few more before my feet have any chance of returning to normal size.

Europe Adventure: Part Two

Today I have done a couple of notable things including: 1) riding on the train for around 8 hours from Lucerne to Milan, then from Milan to Monterosso in Cinque Terre, and 2) wandering around Lucerne (a very pretty city) and Milan (also pretty, with a huge duomo with more statues affixed to it than I have ever seen in my life, some of which are quite creepy) with my 22 pound pack strapped to my back.

While riding on trains, I have found myself anxiously engaged in one of two activities--reading an entertaining Bill Bryson novel, or trying to prevent my head from bobbing too much and waking me up from my unconscious stupor via a sharp head jerking motion when the train brakes, accelerates, or moves in general (flashbacks to student life anyone?). According to that book published in 1998, the average American uses a car for 93 percent of all trips outside of the home. As a result, on average, all walking during the course of the week adds up to 1.4 miles per week, or 350 yards a day. I am sad to admit that my normal movement is probably less than that, as my steps are limited to walking from my car into work, back to my car, and random errands in various shops around town.

However, I have become a temporarily changed woman. Despite our long travel times today, we still managed to log around 15,000 steps, or 6 miles-ish in the course of wandering around Lucerne and Milan. Because of that increase in activity and the fact that any eating establishment without the primary goal of intoxicating patrons deems 6pm an appropriate closing time, I have seriously adjusted my eating habits. I now try to cram as many calories as possible into every meal.

Accordingly, we stopped for gelato after lunch in Milan today. My mint chocolate chip gelato purchased from a van beside the duomo was excellent. However, I did learn that if an American wearing a giant backpack tries to pay for gelato with Swiss Francs, that payment method will be rejected, the three men serving up the gelato will stop service for a couple of minutes to discuss that event and laugh at the silly American, and the pushy crowd trying to order their gelato will also temporarily stop pushing to point and gesture. Awesome.

European Adventure: Day 1

Forgive me in advance for any typos or grammar mistakes. I am currently "functioning" on between eight and nine hours of sleep acquired over the past fifty four hours. (The mouth of anyone who knows me well should be gaped open at this point.) Oh also, I should be coming down from my Provigil-induced high (what I like to call "legalized speed") at any time, which prescription drug is designed to keep narcoleptics awake during the day. I plan to chase the Provigil with a dose of Lunesta pretty soon...

In any case, I am of the opinion that Americans used to be able to travel in style... and even feel rich when traveling abroad. However, due to our weak economy and falling dollar, Americans have recently fallen to the bottom of the food chain. Welcome, my friends. It is a pleasure to be bottom dwellers with you.

I am 'pleased' to report that following our arrival in Zurich, Switzerland at 9am this morning, we traveled to Bern to do some sightseeing and eat lunch, Interlaken to check into our hotel and take a look around, and Thun to visit a castle in weather that could only be defined as 'blowing rain' by that point. Still running on 'just arrived in Europe' adrenaline, we then proceeded to spend an hour looking at authentic Swiss Army knives for Chantal's special Swiss purchase.

Little did we know... Interlaken shuts down at 6pm, even on Friday nights. And that, my friends, is the time we started hunting for dinner.

For a moment, you will have to suspend reality and the fact that I am traveling with a successful doctor and teacher, typing this blog on a $400+ iPaq and $100 bluetooth keyboard, both of which were electronic toys purchased by the doctor for this Europe trip. Upon rejecting wholly ubappetizing entrees suggested by our tour book for 'budget-minded travelers,' we proceeded to wander around town... in the rain... endlessly. One would think 2 or 3 grossly overpriced restaurants would have dissuaded us from our search and sent us back to our hotel room to eat our beef jerky and cheese nips.

Instead, two and a half miles later (as measured by Chantal's pedometer), we walked into McDonalds cold, wet, and dejected, only to find that a Big Mac meal cost $11. Of course, our conscience required that we reject that choice for dinner for our first night in Europe. To make a long story shorter than it could be, we all returned to our hotel slightly shaking from the graceful combination of sleep deprivation and hunger with 5 chocolate bars, a box of chocolate madelines, two cream puffs, 2 hazelnut yogurts, and the fixins for ghetto-fabulous sandwiches purchased from a local supermarket.

Lest you think my cheapness was the overriding factor here, let the record show that when the hunger shakes ceased and I asked my travel buddies if we should have just forked out the cash for dinner, they answered 'no!' together, loud and clear.

Day 1 of European Adventure. Complete. Bring on day 2.

The apple will fall far from the tree. Hopefully.

Update:

After reading the quadrilaterial quiz blog below, my very, very smart and math-minded buddy ("MMB") had this conversation with me:

MMB: I am going to suffer the same way my parents did.

C: What do you mean?

MMB: Well, I would ask them for help and they would say "I don't know. I don't do that anymore." Then I'd ask, "Mom, Dad... how do you expect me to be smart when you are so dumb?" It's going to come back full circle. I'm not going to have a clue how to answer those questions for my kids.

Our rising generation is in trouble. Well, at least my and MMB's future kids are...

Exploited!

As the best roommate ever, I often help Chantal grade her 5th and 6th grade students' papers. For the record, I'm all about efficiency and saving the underpaid teacher's time--I say, have the kids exchange papers and help you grade them immediately following the exam. Any 10-11 year old smart enough to try to get a potential tattle-tale classmate to collude with them in favor of a higher grade deserves a good grade anyway. But, I digress. Back to the subject at hand.

A couple of days ago, I mistakenly took up Chantal's challenge to take the 5th grade "Quadrilateral Quiz" she was writing. I like to think I'm pretty good at math, having suffered through a calculus-based Econ major. However, my ego suffered a major blow as Chantal refused to tell me exactly what a "rhombus" was before I took the quiz. My mistaken assumptions proved fatal as I answered the following questions:

True of False:

1._____ A rhombus is always a parallelogram.
2._____ A square is always a rhombus.
3._____ A trapezoid has two pairs of parallel sides.
4._____ A rectangle is sometimes a square.
5._____ A rhombus has four ninety degree angles.

What am I?

6. I have two pairs of parallel sides that are all the same length. I have at least one right angle. What am I? _________________________________

7. I have one pair of parallel sides. I have two acute and two obtuse angles. What am I? ____________________________________

8. I have two pairs of parallel sides. My sides are not all the same length. I have no right angles. What am I? _____________________________________

9. I am always a parallelogram. All my sides are the same length and I have no right angles. What am I? ___________________________________

Short Answer

10. What is the sum of all the angles in a quadrilateral? _______________________

Needless to say, I... ahem... failed. Further, my (logically flawless) argument to Chantal that I had not recently reviewed the subject matter fell on deaf ears.

The following day, Chantal reported my score to her math class, and told them that if they could beat my score, they were smarter than an attorney. To add insult to injury, she then handed the test out to all her fellow math teachers and relayed that same message to them. I am glad all of Westridge Elementary knows that I am a doofus who failed a fifth grade math quiz.

Yes, that's right. I have been exploited. I wonder if I could sue...

Life as an heiress is hard

Once again, I've chosen the wrong course for my future. Boo. Here I am, worrying about rising gas prices... as Paris Hilton clearly doesn't suffer with the same concerns.

Here is her schedule taken from photo a couple of weeks ago:

"TUESDAY March 18
TRAVEL - LAX to London

WEDNESDAY March 19
TRAVEL - London to South Africa

FRIDAY March 21
Good Charlotte Concert (Johannesburg)

SATURDAY March 22 - SUNDAY March 23
Safari (Cape Town)

MONDAY March 24
Good Charlotte Concert (Cape Town)

TUESDAY March 25
TRAVEL - South Africa to Germany (Munich)

WEDNESDAY March 26
TRAVEL - Munich to Istanbul

THURSDAY March 27
Judging Miss Turkey 2008

FRIDAY March 28
TRAVEL - Istanbul to Germany
Good Charlotte Concert (Saarbrucken)

SATURDAY March 29
TRAVEL - Saarbrucken to Cologne
PA - Wetten Das (time TBA, via private jet)

SUNDAY March 30
TRAVEL - Cologne to Prague
Good Charlotte Concert (Prague)

MONDAY March 31
TRAVEL - Prague to Budapest"

Can I sign up for that schedule? Maybe Paris should write a "Becoming an Heiress for Dummies" book!

Got gas?

I filled up my new car for the first time yesterday. My dad will be coming to pick up the Civic this weekend, which means I'll have the privilege of driving this premium-fuel vehicle everywhere. I'll be honest... I'm a little scared.

Fifty-two dollars and fifteen gallons of premium fuel later, I find myself wondering why our government is providing subsidies to large oil companies. These giant corporations justify the subsidies by arguing that they "allow" the corporations to allocate funds to research and development. Um, maybe I was sleeping that day in Econ 101, but isn't that what "profit" is for?

In any case, I say recession shmeesession and proudly upgrade myself from laughing out loud, to yelling... "what the freak!" everytime I go to the gas pump. How glamorous.

Et tu, BYU.

Back during my law school days, the administration brain-washed us--apparently, we would be constructively stealing from the school if we neglected to give just one measly dollar to BYU's Annual Fund. After all, every dollar that we contributed was matched with FIVE dollars by an alumni! As you may have guessed, the law students embraced the administration's urging and turned the whole Annual Fund donation idea into a war among classes. [Law students? Competitive? NEVER!]

Each class, separated into 1Ls, 2Ls, and 3Ls, had a competition to see which class had the most "school spirit" and could have the highest percentage of the class participate. I think the winner was awarded a BYU creamery sheet of brownies or some other random [worthless] prize. By what would be considered my 3L year, I was incredibly busy and rarely at the law school--however, I still received an email from my class representative, asking that I donate at least $1 to the Annual Fund. Waiting 24 hours before responding was clearly too slow for the impatient sender of my email... and my own $1 donation was trumped by some psycho in the class who donated $50 on behalf of 50 members of our class who weren't quick enough with the $1 donation. I thought it would end there.

Some of you might know that I accepted an offer to work at my current company, which was then rescinded during my Christmas vacation after graduation. Luckily, everything turned out better than expected with that situation. However, it gave rise to the following conversation. [AFT = Annual Fund Telemarketer]

C: Hello?

AFT: Hi, Catherine! My name is AFT. I'm calling on behalf of BYU's Annual Fund! I see that you made a donation last year, and that you just graduated from the law school here!

C: Yeah.

AFT: Well, we thank you SO MUCH for your donation last year. And, we're wondering if you would be able to donate this year.

C: Well, I have no money because my job offer has just been rescinded. So, I'm unemployed with a whole bunch of debt that I have no money to pay.

AFT: [stammering] I'm ... sorry to hear that ...

C: Sorry. Goodbye.

Surely, it would end there, right? I was wrong again.

Apparently, "encouraging" students to donate is a ploy to get student information into the Annual Fund database... for yearly calls requesting donations to this Annual Fund. Just this week, in fact, I received another call while I was engrossed in an episode of American Idol.

C: Hello?

AFT: Hi, Catherine! My name is AFT. How are you doing today?

C: Fine.

AFT: I see here that you graduated from BYU! How did you like that?

C: Uh, it was fine?

AFT: I see that you were in the college of Family Home and Social Sciences. That's the school that I'm in too! What program did you graduate from?

C: [realizing the commercial break was quickly coming to an end] Econ.

AFT: That's great! What a great program! What have you been doing since you graduated?

C: Um, I'll tell you what--my wallet just got stolen, so I have no credit cards. If you call me in a week, I WILL GIVE YOU MONEY.

AFT: Well, that's great! Actually, we can send you out a pledge form...

C: That's fine. Ok... thanks...

AFT: ... But we need to get an amount you want to pledge!

C: Okay. Put me down for [dollar amount].

AFT: That's great! Now let's verify your address... and do you have a certain college you want this donation to go to?

C: [thinking... LET ME GET OFF THE PHONE.]

Is it me or could I have filled all that information out myself? In any case, I am now prepared. I wonder if I can program my CB to BLOCK all 801-422-**** numbers. It's definitely worth at least looking into.

What's in YOUR wallet? (and is mine hiding in there too?)

At the risk of detracting attention from the post below (please continue to vote. I still have faith that my choice will win out in the end)... I am sorry to report that I have lost my wallet. Well, actually, I tell people that it was stolen (could be true), which definitely makes me feel less dumb about my current money-less status.

However, let us commiserate for a minute. If you have ever been blessed enough to lose your wallet... and been SMART enough to keep a spare check in there in case of an emergency, you realize the pain and suffering that goes along with trying to identify everything that was in your little money pouch, verify your identity to your card companies, replace your driver's license, and close your checking accounts... with no identification or record of your card numbers.

I present the following questions to you, Mr. Corporation who has my account hostage:

1. How am I supposed to provide my debit card or credit card number to you if I cannot find my wallet? You know that number you're looking for? Well, it's printed on my lost card! Your silly minions got me to sign up for e-statements to save you the $0.41 per month that it costs to send out my paper statement... and when I sign into my account online, you block out my card number. What do you want from me?!?

2. Why, oh why, will you not respond to me jamming "0" or yelling "operator/representative!" into the phone over and over? Since when did you think that "I'm sorry, that is not a valid response. Please choose from the following menu..." was a customer service-oriented response?

3. How am I supposed to present to you two forms of picture-ID when all of the ID in my wallet has been stolen? S-t-o-l-e-n. I-no-have-it.

On the upside, because identity theft is so rampant nowadays, it has become quite easy to add a "fraud alert" to your credit file and stop those theives from opening up a Mervyn's card in your name. Additionally all these phone calls have allowed me to quickly determine which companies have decided to cut costs by sending my call to India.

Mr. Corporation, let me say this: please, oh please, just give me my new piece of plastic so I can join the rest of America and overleverage myself while paying you an exorbitant interest rate. Is that really too much to ask during this recession?

He must decide, he must decide... even though I made him up he must deciiidddeeee

Please, help me.  My roommates and I fundamentally disagree on the answer to the following question--is this Rhino:

a) Running because he wants to look like the unicorn, or

b) Running to get in shape to be with the unicorn.

So far, I have asked three people what they think, and all of them have disagreed with me.  I still maintain faith in my position, however.  Therefore, the question is... what do you think?

Adventures of a Power Ranger

This weekend, went snowmobiling at a place about 30 miles east of Park City, aka "the boonies." The first thing we saw when we pulled up was a beautiful fleet of snowmobiles. Behind that fleet was a giant tent-like structure with an "office" inside (aka a cash register used to precisely determine your ability to pay, then suck all discretionary funds from you), a fake fire in the middle of the room, and a wide array of helmets, goggles, snowsuits, gloves, etc. After donning our sweet helmets, I commented that we all looked like Power Rangers (good guys), while Tom held true to his theory that anyone riding a snowmobile looks like a bad guy. Despite our differences in opinion, we made nice and hopped on the same snowmobile for our adventure.

Before departing on our guided, two hour snowmobiling adventure, I briefly considered using one of the two Port-a-Potties next to the office. However, my queasiness and hatred of all things unsanitary got the best of me, and I determined that I should be safe for the next 2.5 hours or so.

1.5 hours later, we stopped at a scenic outlook. The tour guide mentioned that we could sit inside the "lodge", which was more than slightly suspect and had an interesting 'aroma', or use the "bathrooms" on the side of the lodge. By "bathrooms", the tour guide was referring to the single Port-a-Potty ("chamber") conveniently dumped to the side of the lodge. Grudgingly, I got in line, and tried to pep talk myself into entering the dreadful chamber. When I had only a couple more people in line in front of me, I exited the line, told Tom "I can't handle this emotionally," and excused myself.

Seven minutes later, I found myself returning to the now very-short line, and realizing that using the chamber would be my best alternative given the circumstances. When it was my turn to enter, I realized that the "door" of the chamber was immobilized by piled snow. That meant that you could neither widen the entrance to enter the chamber, nor close it whilst accomplishing the task at hand. [I wonder if a fat person could sue for insufficient and discriminatory facilities.] Additionally, the chamber had three different signs on the outside:

1 - "No parking" within 22 ft or 7 meters, for which I suppose I should be grateful for (given the privacy provided by the open door),

2 - "Clean Portable Restrooms" where portable is certainly true and "clean" is certainly a lie, and

3 - "Hand sanitizer inside", which is also fundamentally untrue.

Let the record show, however, that I am a woman of much strength. I shed all clothing articles that could possibly hang down or inadvertantly become immediately disposable after making contact with the chamber's interior, squeezed my way past the door and two protruding screws whose purpose was to shred any unsuspecting skin or clothing with which they made contact, searched frantically for the promised hand sanitizer, and washed my hands with snow after the deed was complete.

Who would have thought that the most adventurous thing I'd do on a snowmobiling adventure expedition would be to use a Port-a-Potty?

What kind of weed do YOU like?

Actual conversation my friend (F) had with her 5-year old daughter (D):

F: What do you think of those boys?

D: [frankly] Those boys are bad. They smoke weed.

F: [taken aback] What? Do you know what 'weed' is?

D: Mooooommmmmm.

F: Do you?

D: Yes.

F: It's drugs.

D: [shocked] Really? I thought they just picked grass and smoked it.

Alas... the rising generation. Learning so early about weed. Warms your heart a little, doesn't it?

GIVE ME A NAPKIN.

Have you ever been eating at a food court in the mall when you suddenly realized that you desperately needed a napkin?

Have you ever wondered how much more fun life would be if it were a musical?

Wonder no more, my friends, and realize that you are not alone. The following video [click on that video link... watch it... you will NOT be sorry] comes from the rockstars at "improveeverywhere," with the following description:

"For our latest mission, 16 agents staged a spontaneous musical in the food court of a Los Angeles shopping mall. We used wireless microphones to amplify the vocal performances and mix them together with the music through the mall’s PA system. We filmed the mission with hidden cameras, mostly behind two-way mirrors. Apart from our performers, no one in the food court was aware of what was happening."

Genius! If anyone wants to stage one of these "spontaneous" musicals, please advise--I am SO IN.

CB. The saga continues.

I'll be honest with you--I missed my CB when I was in Taiwan. 8 days completely devoid of the cheerful tones that welcome emails and text messages into my life... my old school ringtone not going off for days... actually waiting until I was in front of a computer terminal to respond to emails. I felt like I had practically returned to the dark ages. [Shudder] Despite my apparent removal from my ultra-hip and modern life during that trip, however, I made sure I stopped in my mom's office to respond to work emails at least every 36 hours.

Next month's agenda: Europe. 12 days. 8 days of "vacation" from work.

Eager to remain out of the dark ages, I found myself calling Verizon's Global Department yesterday in an effort to determine my options for my CB Pearl. Brian of Verizon mournfully informed me that since my CB isn't a "global edition phone", I would be unable to get global service. I could consider a rental phone at the rate of $15/day or a global satellite phone ranging from $11.50/day to $75/week, which does not even include charges for phone calls. Believing that my "availability" certainly could not demand that type of premium, I sent the following message to my boss:

"I called Verizon to price out getting email access on my trip to Switzerland/Italy. Verdict: insanely expensive. And, given that I’m backpacking, I’m not going to have a laptop on me. My trip will last 12 days. Are you going to die? Any other suggestions?"

That email spurred the following serious discussion today:

B: "You lazy, why can't you just carry a computer around Europe?"

C: "Uh... buddy? I'm going to be bringing like four shirts for my twelve day trip. I'm so not carrying my laptop."

Boss conceded the point, and asked if I would consider stealing the CFO's new i-phone instead. Always guided by my moral compass, I turned Boss down. We then turned to our head of IT as a last resort, who once again came through.

Good news: I will be borrowing a currently-inactive CB 8830, world edition, and upgrading to a world data plan for my 12 day trip. Wait, what does CB stand for again?

Status Check

comic link

Facebook ("FB") has changed my life.

Initially, I firmly fought joining this social networking website. I pretended to take the moral high-ground by alleging that Facebook was like all the other scandalous and/or silly networking sites on the web (think: MySpace). When it comes down to it, however, perhaps I was truly dissauded by the fear of not having any friends on the site and thereby being dubbed a "Facebook loser". *Gasp*

However, I will admit--the potential to legally stalk individuals while remaining untraceable trumped my moral high-ground, and I joined up.

Now that I have been fully integrated into the FB community, I realize how GREAT Facebook has been in accelerating relationships! Before FB ("BFB"), relationships had a much longer winding up period.

BFB: When my roommates or I found a potential crush ("PC"), we would be forced into complex operating tactics to determine the relationship status of our PC. We would offer up a friendly smile, strike up a "casual" conversation, or... if dire and risky measures were required... break out the "touch the elbow" tactic. Such risky measures, of course, would be followed by the requisite, severe over-analysis regarding the magnitude and content of the response we received from PC. On certain occasions where the response continued to be ambiguous, we would resort to the middle school-esque tactic of cornering one of PC's roommates or friends, swearing that individual to secrecy, and asking if PC was, in fact, single. However, we have taken the leap into a new generation, friends. Introducing: After FB ("AFB").

AFB: FB has introduced something revolutionary--relationship status. Not only can we now specify our own gender (which has become increasingly useful given modern gender-neutral names and the blurred line between what constitutes an acceptable man and woman), but we can also use FB to profess our relationship status to the world! The following categories are available:

1. Single
2. In a Relationship
3. Engaged
4. Married
5. It's Complicated
6. In an Open Relationship

Setting aside for a moment the PCs who list their status as "single" when their current significant others would in fact disagree with that status, and those PCs who leave just enough ambiguity on their profiles (in the form of opposite gender flirtatious wall posts and/or photos), the world is now a safe place for the elbow tactic. Go ahead. Trust that profile. Make a move.

When in France... or in China...

I have been known to be overly dramatic on a prior occassion or two. Friends who know me well will recognize such frequently-used phrases as: "I'm going to poke my eyes out" and, more frequently, "I am going to die" and/or "Please, kill me."

Recognizing the potential effect such phrases could have on my success as a missionary, my oldest brother reminded me before I left for Taiwan that I would need to keep the death references (or requests) to a minimum, for fear that my overly-anxious companion would call the mission president and report my suicidal tendencies.

Mayor Gerard Lalanne of Southern France would scorn my flippant attitude--in response to a full cemetary and an unsuccessful attempt to adjoin private land that would extend the cemetary, Lalanne executed the following threat:

"[a]ll persons not having a plot in the cemetary and wishing to be buried in Sarpourenx are forbidden from dying in the parish... Offenders will be severly punished."

He followed up his decree with stating, "It may be a laughing matter for some, but not for me."

Don't mess with death. Or France. Or Lalanne.

Clearly, this is no laughing matter. But, for those of you who want to go out in a blaze of glory, I hear China's terminating technology is pretty good.