Monday, September 29, 2008

Don't fail me now, oh shit, you did.

So, the economy is broken.

My bank went under.

Prices are sky rocketing.

Good thing I am pretty accustomed to life on the edge of poverty.

In the office we were comparing our depression to the great depression.

Oh shit.

They had a war to get them out. We are already at war. That won't work.

The new 'New Deal'? The Newer Deal? The 'Oh Shit' plan according to Mr. Boss.

We've contemplated leaving the country.

We've talked about growing our own vegetables in our existing potted plants.

I might go buy a giant bag of rice. Half the world lives on that shit, I could too.

We will probably have to start drinking moonshine.

In November, after the election, what shall I do?

I just hope that we (the US) feel a little more inclined toward big government (like after the great depression) and a little less inclined toward big business, which has failed us.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Paris Hilton would be jealous.

This weekend, Jackie Kennedy (Onassis) was spotted dancing with Marilyn Monroe to a honky tonk band. If you were curious about the concept of two deceased women, who were not the best of friends, might have been dancing the night away in an Alaskan bar (the Alaskan) to a band called Honky Tonk Habit, you should rest assured that the zombie uprising is not upon us.

For my Hollywood party, my darling friend, Miss C dressed up as Marilyn Monroe, platinum wig, beauty mark, and all. I dressed up old Hollywood glam, which actually turned out to be very Jackie O. Looks like, even in costume, I can't escape politics.

At first, things were looking bad. Miss D called me about decorating. How it hadn't been done. I texted the usual decorators and they were MIA. Miss J wasn't even going to make it to the fete. I realized that, between the time I got off work and the time the party was set to begin, I would have to decorate the bar and myself. This would have been less of a daunting task had I not crawled out of bed that morning just in time to put on clothing and a hat and trudge to work with a mild hangover. Or had I not canvassed all day and come back damp and sore-footed with terrible hat hair. But alas, I accomplish things, that is just what I do.

I invented the star bola. It increases decorating efficiency by allowing me to hang two stars at a time by throwing one end over something and then letting the similarly weighted stars keep them there hanging. Brilliant. Mr. E and his girlfriend, Miss D, Mr. K and I managed to hang sparkly stars (thanks Miss D for finishing those) and lay out the red carpet, leading to the bar. The place would have looked even nicer if the Lucky Lady had been open to serve its purpose as the trash receptacle for Juneau's ugly, creepy, drunks, but alas I can ignore them. I suggested hip hop as a music to drive them out, but by 10pm they are impervious to the world, so saturated with the liquor or cheap beer.

Miss C met me at the bar and we went back to my place to get ready. Miss T showed up as well, and we all headed to the party together, looking very sexy, indeed. Miss A was dressed like Mary Kate, Mr. L was a porn star, Miss L was a Hollywood hopeful... we had a great mix and a great crowd. Miss L and I consulted on music, even designing the most glorious Pandora station with the dance music I wish would get played at the Imp or the Viking. We didn't get to listen to it. I put on techno. That was awesome. Miss C and I drank champagne. And by champagne I mean Cook's.

The highlight at the 'Vous was that this drunk Coastie was trying so desperately to seduce me. He kept trying to kiss my cheek and tell me I was so beautiful and all sorts of things. I told him that behind my big sunglasses I only had one eye, and he said that was okay. He was adorable and probably a nice enough guy, but I wanted nothing to do with drunk hookup mode Coasties. When we finished the champagne we went to the Alaskan for some lovely live music and libations.

At the Alaskan, there was a lot of dancing. I even made Mr. CPP dance with me. I danced with Mr. S, who is a delightful person. I danced with Mr. SS, who is also wonderful in his very particular way. I danced until my leopard print pump clad feet were well past the point of feeling nice. In my last post, I mentioned a blog rating which will now go from PG 13 to R. I felt and looked good last night, and I mean, not to brag, but I looked really good. The Jackie O look apparently suits me. I wasn't the only one who thought this, because the drunk Coastie thought so, pretty sure Mr. CPP wasn't upset when I reached down his shirt to check if there was hair, and I even had someone say the dirtiest thing anyone has ever said to me, something like this: 'makes me want to take you into the bathroom and fuck you.' Oh my. Now, if you read this, you likely know me, and if you know me, you know that I'm no prude, but WOW. How does one respond to a comment like this? I didn't know, so I didn't say or do anything. For all that flirting I still went home by foot in my cute crocs which have taken me on many a canvass, with Miss C to crash in my messy room and stumble to work tired again the next day.

Friday night, though not quite as fashionable, was fun as well. We went out to eat in honor of the leaving Mr. C, played pool, and had a power hour. The boys did the power hour, I managed a half hour. We then went out, again placing me at the Alaskan to dance the night away with Mr. S, Mr. B, and various other misters. I narrowly avoided dancing with the oddest person I've ever seen. Imagine an older guy with a big mustache dressed in flashy gangster clothing. Surely, he must be a nice guy, but surely I do not want to throw myself into his arms. I wore my cowgirl boots out that night, in honor of Honky Tonk Habit, but the shoes are slick and the roads proved slick and I now sport a nice road rash on my left leg. I always slip in the same place, always with at least one car to witness my lack of grace. Oh well.

Things I will undoubtedly do...

This happens to, by its nature, highlight some things that I do not do or have not done, some of these things may be a little absurd or even embarrassing. Oh well.

These are things that I will do before I leave Juneau. I've decided that I should stay for at least another year. One more fall, winter, spring, and summer.

I will snowboard. I have the board, I just need the other fixings and the will power to go.

I will snowshoe. Should have done this before, would have been easier than the army crawl over feet of powder.

I will go fishing (I've been fishing, just not Alaska fishing).

I will ride a bike. It sounds strange and they do always say that it is something you never forget how to do, but I haven't ridden a bike since I was in tenth grade. It is something I look forward to and dread at the same time.

I will go to the rock dump and finally try climbing.

I will hike the other glacier trail.

I will peak Mt. Roberts, Mt. Juneau, and Mt. Jumbo.

I will try cross country skiing.

I will jump all the way into the cold, cold water.

I will paint again.

I will make a graphic novel about my time in Alaska.

I will go camping for real in tents.

I will go to more bonfires.

I will trek on the glacier (before it melts to nothing).

I will fly in a float plane!

I will fly in a helicopter.

I will clean my room.

I will work in the legislature. I mean, seriously, they've got to hire me, right?

I will get a democrat elected to the US Senate.

I will play beerball again.

I will have a life.

I will get in shape.

I will visit other places in Alaska. Places like Sitka, Fairbanks, and maybe Nome or Barrow. Definitely Denali.

I will see a moose.

I will ice skate.

I will add more to this list, but I think these are definitely possible to accomplish. That's right. Mission: Possible.

I can't let the most Alaskan thing I've done be a mountain man.

And with that, the rating for my blog went from PG to PG-13 with some sweet innuendo.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Poll Etiquette: A bit of a rant

I spend much of my long days working on the phone, I spend hours and hours dealing with people who seem to think that common etiquette is not required when you are talking to a "pollster" or who believe that, even if they are not speaking to a recorded voice, they are not speaking to a human.

  • When you hang up before we even say a word, we will call you back.
  • If you say you are to busy to answer even one question (most of the time your excuse is longer than the response we request of you) we will call back later.
  • Weren't you raised with manners? Do you interrupt everyone like that?
  • When you provide us with stupid fake answers, no matter how polite we sound, we know you are trying to throw off our poll and we aren't taking your answers down.
  • When you fuck with us, don't be surprised if we fuck with you and call you back.
  • If you politely decline our poll, we will remove you from the list, if you decline our poll in a less than a polite way, whether we remove you or call you back is at our whim.
  • When you interrupt us, you have to account for the fact that stopping mid word may have our voices still carrying even after you finish your rude interjection, no need to repeat yourself.
  • Our ears work just fine, there is no need to yell.
  • Your verbal assaults on the party or candidate we represent will not get back to anyone of importance, don't waste your breath.
  • There is no need to use four letter words.
  • No, there is no rule that says we need to state that it is a survey, we are asking questions, isn't it obvious?
  • No, there is no rule that says we need to stop calling at 8pm. We wish there were such a rule more than you do, guaranteed.
  • No, the constitution does not say anywhere that we cannot ask you who you support, you have the right to decline, but do so politely.
  • Oh hey, we don't know what your job is, so if you are obligated to remain nonpartisan, just say so, don't yell at us for asking.
  • If you hang up without saying a word, we are certain that we just got disconnected, we'll surely get back to you.
  • If you list your candidates of choice as Mickey Mouse or Donald Duck, we will probably call you back when you get back from disneyland.
  • Dog commands are insulting, not effective.
  • Just because we have a shitty job doesn't mean we are stupid, chances are we are at least as well educated as many of you if not better educated. We all have shitty jobs because we all have four year degrees in things like politics or international studies or history...
  • Believe it or not, in a year like this, there is more than one organization asking you about politics. Doing one doesn't help the rest of us. We'll probably call back.
  • Personally, we don't care who you are and who you are voting for unless you want to volunteer to do these calls with us.
  • When you get upset and you yell and your voice cracks, you sound like an ass.
  • When you get upset about the number of times you've been asked, you should think of the number of times we have to ask... And we will do it again.
  • Don't try to be witty in your refusal or answer, you'll be the only one to appreciate it, or maybe your buddies that you brag to while watching NASCAR.
  • We want this to go quickly more than you do, don't draw it out. Please.
  • Save you sob story for someone who can do something about it, as much sympathy as I may feel for you, there is nothing I can do.
  • When you waste your breath trying to insult me over the phone, that's all you're doing: wasting your breath.
  • I don't get paid well enough to be polite, you are just lucky that I have better manners than you do.
  • Why the hurry to hang up? If you say you don't want to take the poll we aren't going to try again, and usually we're wishing you a good evening and not trying to curse you.
  • We don't care how much you like or dislike either candidate, don't elaborate.
  • If you don't want to talk to us after 9pm, try not answering your phone. Doesn't everyone have caller ID these days?
  • Quit being a little bitch, nobody likes this. It's just part of life. During the campaign season. It'll be over November 5th.
It's not all bad though, some people are delightful and we love our supporters and volunteers and even the people who at least decline politely. Simple pleasures.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Coming to terms:

Today, a local celebrity commented that she had discovered my blog. She also mentioned that she had never understood blogging, so I tried to explain to her that it was how I kept in touch with friends. It's not only that though, it is my way of being an exhibitionist. She has the talent to get on a stage and belt out brilliant song after brilliant song, looking wonderful and working the crowd. I have... a blog. A blog that very few people probably read, but it is my way of showing off. I think that my life is fairly interesting (sometimes) and even when it is not interesting, I can at least put the mundane details of my life into some nice words. So, to my crowd, when nobody is looking, applaud. Pretend I've done something magnificent. Maybe I'll feel the breeze from hands clapping someday when I'm feeling dull and unimportant.

Tomorrow I have a meeting with a student at UAS who will be helping me with the young dems club on campus. I made the mistake of trying to joke around on gchat with someone who is unfamiliar with my sense of humor. I think he thinks I'm neurotic.

I've been working a bunch still, though we get the occasional morning off now, apparently. Tomorrow would mark the first of those, but I was informed that due to my tardiness on Friday, I'd be coming in at the normal time.

Thursday night, after consuming cheap beer in the office, we went out to the bars. I managed to consume more alcohol than I really should have, especially considering the antibiotics I'm taking. There was no special occasion, it was just a fun night. Mr. E is back in town and we managed to take a few shots together. Then I stumbled home, went to bed, and awoke to my alarm, far enough away that I could ignore it. I slept late, went to the office around 10:30, around the time the big boss showed up apparently. At noon, right after chatting with a vol, I went to the office bathroom and puked. Talk about class.

Lesson learned.

Friday night we went and saw The Government Inspector, which was fantastic, and then I went and had soup and watched The Whitest Kids You Know clips with the boys. Then I went home. I had vowed not to drink with the antibiotics.

Saturday was Miss S's big going away party. It was a real crazy time. I was sober, though I did partake of a shot or two (research shows two would be okay). I danced, had fun dressed as a pirate wench, and as the night wore on and people got drunker, I ended up exercising my maternal instincts, tending to Miss S as she expelled the alcohol she had consumed. Poor girl, went out with a bang.

Sunday I showed up to work, grabbed my canvassing packet and went to breakfast with Miss S and co. for the last goodbye before the airport drop off. We couldn't fit the party at the Piper so we went to Henry's in the valley. I had been concerned about my timing for work, but said "fuck it" a number of times in deciding to go to breakfast in the first place and then deciding it would be okay to trek out to the valley. I had Mr. EE drop me off around 2 mile in North Douglas, where I zig-zagged from house to house gathering contacts. I pet at least 5 dogs and a cat. Made it back to the office and all was well.

I'm pretty excited for my birthday party this weekend. I hadn't wanted to put it off until three weeks after my actual birthday, but alas, timing wouldn't have it any other way. Between the anchorage trip, people being gone, and other events it got put off until this weekend. I am glad it wasn't this past weekend though, due to the antibiotics thing. By the time of my party, I can go as crazy as I want. I have to do some planning with Miss D, but it sounds like Miss T may have a red carpet (wow) and she has even offered to bake a cake! I have invited pretty much everyone worth inviting, I think, so I hope it turns out well!

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Remember when we used to sing...


I'm getting nostalgic for a month ago. For two months ago. For my last day off. I'm getting nostalgic for the last time I went out with my friends.

I've been way tired lately, partially due to an ailment, which got me out of the office long enough to go to the doctor so I wouldn't get so sick I couldn't come to the office.

I am currently incredibly amused by the antics of my male co-workers. Boys are silly. We are drinking Natty Ice. Waiting for the conference call.

My life is not really worth writing about right now. Why am I torturing you, my loyal reader(s) with this drivel. Damnit.

I guess I just wanted to state that I was still alive.

Monday, September 15, 2008

A-town Down.

With the return of the purse, the trip to Anchorage was made possible.

Now, many people I know really like Anchorage. They talk about the many wonderful things about Anchorage. Things like nicer weather (at least in the summer), things like places to shop, things like roads leading out...

Maybe it is just that when I have been in Anchorage the weather has been the same, I haven't had a chance to shop, and I don't have the time or liberty to have a nice Sunday drive...

But Anchorage is an ugly, strip mall town with not much more to offer than Juneau aside from some strip clubs.

Speaking of Strip Clubs, I went to the Great Alaska Bush Co. on Saturday night. I was disappointed in the lack of a pole, the less than exciting choreography, and the fact that at least half the strippers showed the coochie before they even removed the top... I was told that the pole was unimportant and that nobody went for choreography, but still...

But for a more chronological overview:

Friday afternoon we flew from J-town to A-town, where we were picked up by the boss' boss, who was less lanky and awkward than I had expected. We almost immediately ended up going out to canvass in Eagle River, which was not that thrilling since it was raining and those of us who flew had only a 3 x 5 cm bag of pretzels for lunch. Once we returned from that and tallied the numbers we went to the Moose's Tooth for dinner and some beers, followed by Crossroads for the ultimate bitch-fest. We spent basically the entire night venting about our regionals, drinking, and getting to know all the other F.O.'s.

Saturday we started training and we spent hours learning about policy and methods and hearing about how important what we do is. It was good to hear. We had a conference call with Senator Tester (D Montana) and we heard from a lot of people who deal with strategy and policy on the campaign. After the training ended we went to a barbecue (and kegger) at the house of one such of these higher ups. We had the best meal we'd had in a long time and the best meal we'd have for a long time. We had lots of wine or beer and mixed and mingled with the actual campaign staff, our campaign staff, and other well known democrats. After this a group of us went to the B-Co, as mentioned above. A guy kept walking past me and every time he would touch my waist or something, and one time he actually rubbed my shoulders and made some comment along the lines of, "I've walked past you so many times, I thought I ought to pay you." Ummm, hello, not an employee, note the clothing... Mr. G bought Mr. A a lapdance. Mr. A spent at least half the time talking to the girl and looking rather uncomfortable. He came back talking about how she is from Sweden and believes in universal health care. Hilarious.

Sunday was the last day of training. We got to hear from the candidate and we spent a lot of time in our groups consisting of, generally, one representative from each region. We had representation from J-town, the Matsu, The Banks, The K-Pen, and A-town. Our group was hilarious and fun and we have named ourselves Team Falcon.

After training we went back to the A-Town office and all had to make calls before heading home. We got on the plane and ran into numerous Juneauites, also heading back from A-town. We finally got a cab back downtown after at least a half hour of waiting in the rain, then it was bedtime for me!

Now it is back to the way things were, only with even higher goals. Ouch.

50 days to having my life back. 50 days.

Then I can say, win or loss, that I worked on the most competitive senate race in the country.

Friday, September 12, 2008

Panic at the Disco...

Not the band. Literal panic. Literal disco.

Last night we went to the Imperial. It was Disco night. We had started drinking at the office. I was already buzzed when I arrived at the Imp and added one more drink to that. It was me, the other Begich guys and the Obama kids. We danced some. We had fun. We, along with afro bedecked Miss C, crooned Sweet Caroline. So good. So good. So good.

When bar close came around, I went to grab my purse. It wasn't at the table. It wasn't near the table. It wasn't behind the bar. It wasn't in the bathroom. It wasn't in trash cans. It wasn't behind speakers. It wasn't under tables. It wasn't under billiards. It wasn't in the Imperial. It wasn't in a trash can outside the Imperial. It wasn't on the street. It wasn't at the office (I knew it wouldn't be). It wasn't at home (I knew it wouldn't be).

It was gone.

It was stolen.


At. The. Disco.

Mr. C called Mr. B to get Miss R's number. Miss R was drunk.

"Did you grab another purse?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"We're in front of the Imperial, will you bring it?"
"Be there in two minutes."

Relief and celebration.

1 minute.
2 minutes.
3 minutes.
4 minutes.
5 minutes.
6 minutes.
7 minutes.
8 minutes.
9 minutes.
10 minutes.
11 minutes.
12 minutes.
13 minutes.
14 minutes.
15 minutes.

"Hi. Where are you with the purse?"
"What purse?"
"Miss R said she took an extra purse."
"We don't see a purse."



We walked up the hill to the office. Then toward home. We decided to call my phone. It went through.


Background noise.


>insert exceedingly ridiculous string of profanity from Mr. A<

>insert pleaing from me<

>insert exceedingly loud and exceedingly angry string of profanity from me<

All of this is taking place within a stone's throw of the Governor's mansion.

Three slightly intoxicated, panicked, angry twenty-somethings screaming, roaring, and whimpering into a cellular phone.

Defeat. Again.

I pounded on the door of my apartment. I was yelling into the cracks.

Miss J cracked the door, looking scrupulously out before opening it fully. I apologized profusely and explained my dilemma.

I went to bed.

I awoke to 80's music on KXLL and hit the snooze button a few times. I didn't sleep more, I just thought. Thought about packing. Thought about what to wear. What to bring. How to get ID.

We're flying to Anchorage today. ID is the most important thing. I could be poor, I could be phoneless, but without identification I could not be.

I managed to clean up, pack, get ready, think out a plan, and get to work one minute early.

"Mr. C," I said, "Don't freak out..."

Any conversation that starts with "Don't freak out" is a conversation that will lead to freaking out.

"My purse was stolen. It has all of my ID." . . . "I'll fix it."

"Fix it before 10:30, that's when I'll start really freaking out."

9 am to 9:30ish am was full of barked orders, frantic calling, web searching, connection calling. We were using every resource we had between us. We were panicked, frenzied, frantic...

Then Miss R's friend walks sheepishly in. He stands in the doorway holding the purse.

"Miss R says she's really sorry."

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Drei un zwanzig Jahre sind vorbei...

It's official now: I've survived twenty three years, plus the celebration of reaching that 23rd year, plus more grueling hours of field organizing.

The weekend before my birthday was nice. No big deal. Stayed in one night. Went out another night. Got my hair cut. Went to Rock the vote, which had great music (mostly) but a disappointing turn-out.

The day of my birthday was pretty nice. Miss T took me out to Sushi and got me a really pretty pair of earrings. It was nice to take a long lunch and spend some time with someone other than the co-workers, as much as I may like them. After work, which I left somewhat early, I went to dinner with Miss J, Miss B, and Miss C, to be joined later by Miss L and Mr. L, Mr. C remained distant - probably because we are consistently awkward. Miss A was our waitress and another Miss T was our bartender. This last bit of information was only relevant when Mr. L bought me a blow job shot. I thought the novelty shots were for 21st birthdays and bridal showers...

We went to the 'Vous after dinner and I found myself surrounded by friends and turning down alcohol because everyone was generously buying me shots. I had such lovely drinks as Kamikazes and Sex with an Alligator and some Whiskey with Miss K. The boys came out as well, but I think I was the only one who was really running around being social and tipsy. On our way home, Miss J, Mr. H and I ran into a fat-lipped Mr. K who had apparently been the victim of a random act of violence. Some drunk guy had just walked up to him and punched him and Mr. K had him pinned down and called the cops. We missed all the action but did get to see the splatters of bright red blood on the sidewalk.

The day after my birthday was a day of working a full day and then relaxing at home once I got there. I watched part of the sequel to Underworld, though I hadn't seen the first one at all.

Today I had lunch with Miss A. We chatted about stuff and had a good time. Mr. D had often tried to introduce us, but we have this habit of missing each other. I can think of at least three occasions when we nearly crossed paths or enjoyed an event together but due to timing or other phenomena things didn't actually work out that way.

I also went to a NOW meeting which focused on domestic violence and sex crimes. The talk was really informational and really made me think. It made me think about the situations of domestic violence or non-consensual sex that are never reported by the victims. Instances when the victims feel guilty, ashamed, embarrassed. I know there are so many women dealing with this and I am disappointed in a society which causes these feelings to well up in the minds of women. Tomorrow I'll be attending a meeting regarding the planned parenthood that is opening here. I get to attend these meetings because I have a vagina. Otherwise I'd be working through them. Sarah Palin is anti-abortion, even in the instances of rape or incest. How awful is that? Do we really want a woman who doesn't believe in women's rights to have so much power in our country? NO. Having a woman like Sarah Palin in office will only continue to oppress women, continue to leave women feeling like they have no options, like violence against them is deserved or at least unavoidable. She will be filling the cracks in that glass ceiling, not shattering it completely.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Is wondering what 23 will bring.

23 years of life.

What are the highlights?

I was born on September 8th, 1985 at 6:05 am in the Kaiser Permanente hospital in Hayward, California. My mom, biological father and I lived in an apartment in Oakland, California where the rats ate my baby blankets crocheted by my grandma.

I spent most of my first 12 years living in the East Bay, attending East Avenue Elementary. I was chubby, nerdy, and wore overly large glasses for most of those years. I didn't have that many friends, which my stepdad likes to point out sometimes. Mostly I spent my days with my nose in a book or drawing for hours on end.

My sister, often referred to as Schwesterlein, was born when I was almost 2. She and I used to fight a ton, but these days we get along much better. We used to play together a lot, we usually got stuck with shared birthday parties and we always shared a room until I went to college.

My mom and biological father divorced when I was probably around three or four. My mom married my stepdad when I was seven, but they started dating before that. My sister Chele was born not long after they got married. About 9 months after, actually.

We moved to Oregon two weeks before my 12th birthday. The first day of school was also my 12th birthday and I made a new best friend that day. She moved 6 months later.

There is pretty much the first half of my life. It included a trip to Disneyland, moodiness, and finally getting contact lenses.

More on my history tomorrow, maybe. Or maybe the day after.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

I go back and forth between wanting to shoot myself in the face and thinking it's not so bad...

Is consistency nice?

Is it better to have someone be an asshole consistently or to bounce back and forth between complete and utter douchebaggery and tolerable or even nice behavior...

Ah, if only.

Started a college/young dems at UAS today. I don't go there.

The R Club had a table there too, we kicked their ass in terms of numbers. I couldn't help thinking that I wouldn't be excited to go and sign up there either. I think that even if everything else is the same, at least I was a dynamic personality in the leadership position. At least I could excite and interest people. At least I had enthusiasm. I wish I weren't still bitter, but DAMN. The pres is a great guy, don't get me wrong. My real bitterness lies with whomever couldn't stand to have me maintain my office. The thing is, it is most likely the person who didn't do her job at all, the person who left town anyway, the person who isn't even seeing the difference or lack thereof in leadership...

I don't know, as pissy as I can be about certain things, I can't seem to really be in a terrible mood, it is as though I really want to be in a miserable mood, but something is getting in the way and I am not unhappy. I guess that is good?

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Man, what a taxing weekend.

Between drinking, making an ass of myself, poor decision-making, making new friends, and hiking... I had a very long weekend with some highs and lows.

Thankfully 22 year-olds are still expected to be dumb.

Friday I went out with the co-workers after a long night in the office. We went to the Imperial which always bodes ill for me.

Saturday was Miss J and Miss T's 70's Funk Party, which was kind of a hit, though the biggest hit of the night was a tie between Miss J's costume and Mr. H's cake that looked like funky platform shoes.

Sunday was another day at work, as all the other days were, but I actually relaxed that night.

Monday I had off. Days off are rare in this field and will become increasingly more so. I slept in until nearly noon and woke up to rain. I called my new friend Miss M and we decided we were going to brave a trail despite the weather. We were almost out of breath by the time we got to the Mt. Roberts 6th Street trailhead, but we tread on. We hiked as far as the tram and evaluated the time, distance left to the peak, and our speed. We decided to take the alpine loop (which had some nice views but was packed with tourists) and grab a bite at the Tram restaurant before hiking back down. We were sopping wet, muddy, and covered in bits of pine needles but we were served anyway. We sat on the mats. When we made it back down, we found ourselves at a different trailhead but I recognized the Flume trail and took us on that. I managed to pass the Cope Park trail and we ended up on 12th street, then wandering down stairs and random streets until we happened upon an area we knew. We then went back to Miss M's place and watched cartoons and college football while our clothing dried and we ate pizza. Great day off, overall. I then went to bed early, dreading the inevitable soreness of my legs.

We didn't have to canvass today, I was fine.

We called North Pole, Alaska today. We listened to Christmas music.

Today is Mr. Z's last night in town, I'm headed to the 'Vous to say goodbye and have a bit of fun.

Also, I seriously thought that at some point I would wake up and discover that this whole Sarah Palin as Veep pick was a horrible dream. Either I haven't woken up or the Republican party is stupid. I guess I know what the answer is...