Twilight Zone Moments

Sometimes, I feel like I take these weird trips to a parallel universe.  I arrived in Kentucky, to spend Christmas with my extended family, and I was greeted by various members of another race, known to the common folk as the "moral majority".  I am not able to put my finger on it, but, I felt like I didn't belong, being a non-white, non-Christian woman.  Now, all of these individuals, beings, if you will, had expressions that were almost manic, being rather wild-eyed and smiley or blank, like zombies.  They come in different sizes and shapes, as well as various shades of white.  Now, I had to rent a car.  Usually, when I am trying to find a radio station, I have difficulty finding one that is not Reggaton or Tejano.  However, I had difficulty finding one that was not Christian.  They even have one station called "positive alternative", so, I listened to it, for a short while.  It didn't take me long to realize that I was listening to tracks that were praising the Good Lord, J.C.  I was not going to hear Nine Inch Nails or Radiohead, but, in fact, I was hearing songs about finding oneself and loving Jesus, etc.  This went on for at least 3-4 consecutive stations.  So, the residents, all appear to have the years worn on their faces from much smoking, praising, and singing hymns.  Occasionally, I may hear someone speaking another language, but, I realized that they were just speaking English with a strong Southern drawl.  

I went to a boring Holiday Party and I found the Holy Grail--I think!

Aaah, 'tis the season for annoying people, crowded streets, long lines, and, of course, stupid holiday parties.  We fulfill the obligation to get dressed up in sparkly, glittery, obnoxious articles of clothing that cost astronomical amounts of money.  All the women are vying to outdo their friends and coworkers; everyone looks to hook-up after indulging on free booze and taking advantage of the presence of mistletoe adorning the very lit-up and poinsettia'd party venue.  I, for one, am a sucker for free food and unlimited Diet Coke.  A friend of mine RSVP'd me for a party I didn't particularly feel like attending.  However, I got dressed up, without the sparkles, fringe, and sequins, of course, and went to a party with my friend.  Of course, we didn't have the exact address, so we just looked for a well-lit home with many cars.  

This particular gathering included the infamous white elephant gift.  I was enlightened on the significance of the white elephant gift, that you bring something you don't want and someone may pick it.  However, people may decide that they want something that someone else has.  Now, the countdown to the white elephant gift was filled with shallow introductions and meaningless conversations with people who have no care or need to know anything about me.  My friend and I arrived a fashionable 30 minutes late, but, I can always count on another coworker to be even later.  Now, she burst in with hair that had just been removed from rollers and some designer duds that looked rather aged for me, compared to my little J.Crew dress (quite a steal on the price).  She has a day job as a physician and another moonlighting job as a salesperson in a shop that sells kitchenware.  She shared some very one-sided stories about her store salesperson-type experiences.  

So, I had #30 in the whole white elephant process, after choosing numbers out of a hat.  Now, the advantage of having the higher number is that you get to steal from others, if you like their gift.  One of my colleagues picked a lovely "pimpin'" stein, that said, "Hottie" in sparkle and glitter.  She had no idea that I had my sights set on that "Hottie" goblet.  Finally, I had my moment, and it was stolen fair and square.  As I thought about it more, a revelation occurred.  This thing had to be. . .the Holy Grail.  Yes, kids, I stole the pimpin' stein, which is actualy the Holy Grail.  I'm sure that Jesus took his last drink out of a goblet that had the word "Hottie" beadazzled all over.  Anyway, hopefully, having this Hottie Holy Grail may actually get me a date. . .yeah, right!

One Cold Day in Hell

Well, it happened. . .Hell began to freeze over during this landmark occurrence in Houston, Texas.  In this area that is usually around 70-80 degrees and humid around the holidays, we had the second snowfall of this millennium, with the first being Christmas, 2004 (I was out of the country).   It was pretty amazing, since I walked out of the office into what appeared to be a blizzard in South Texas standards.  I became really giddy, and I felt like a little kid.  Flashbacks of snowball fights, sledding, frostbite, and hot chocolate danced around in my head.  Houston actually will officially shut down during a snowfall, and people will "hunker down", like during Hurricane Ike.  Houston has been a hotbed of weather weirdness this year.  Being from the Midwest, it is actually fun to see it snow.  I even found myself singing. . .eeek. . . a Christmas carol!!!!  Yes, winter becomes more solidified.  I decided to go to the gym, since I really had nothing better to do.  Everyone was just watching the snow fall out the window.  Since I forgot my reading material, I also stared out the window.  However, I could actually see my reflection, so that obstructed this lovely view of snowflakes drifting down to the potholes and oil spots.  Because we never know when this will happen again, I actually took a photo of snow on top of my car and a video of snow falling.  I have to save this moment for posterity, to document these historical moments.  

The Relevance of Being on my Good Side

Currently, our nation is in an economic recession.  Everyone feels this anxiety and has many concerns plaguing their minds.  They all worry if they will be able to keep their homes, clothe themselves, and feed their children.  Now, being the holidays, it will be like Miracle on Main Street after the Crap on Wall Street.  Of course, the pervasive spirit of Ebenezer Scrooge graces our lives, as many insensitive chief executives dismiss countless employees, to save some money to fatten his/her paycheck.  

Five days ago, my department chief decided unexpectedly to dismiss my friend, who is also a social worker who works with me in my clinic.  Now, this poor young woman will not have a job in thirty days, her husband will start accounting school, and she will resume her other day job as an expert barista at Starbuck's.  All the hard work and relationships she has fostered are severed, as she will be searching for another social work position.  Of course, as her friend, I am very distraught to know that she was dismissed from a job she did well.  Obviously, we are not in control of our destinies.  Also, we are not in control of the most minute moments of our lives, such as waking up in the morning and having a job that pays a salary.  We take for granted that things won't change, and then, it all crashes in front of us.  However, in this facade of what we consider reality, there is a better truth that exists, and my friend will find that truth.  She will also have a better job and feel more respected and validated.  Interestingly, although I am directly impacted from a clinical efficiency standpoint, I was never consulted.  Instead, I was told that this would happen, and I was never given an ample opportunity to express myself.    All of that said, the chief and the office manager both made a point to say to me that they don't want me to be angry with them.  Now, for me to get angry requires genocide in Darfur, child abuse, fighting a needless war in Iraq, children going hungry, and children being deprived of education--obviously, there are more.  I was shocked and bewildered that my opinion of these two individuals actually mattered to them.  Nonetheless, though they may care if I am angry, they don't care enough to actually let my friend keep her job.  

It is a shame that the true victims of the financial crises are the people who are putting forth their 100% and being laid off from their jobs.  Yet, the chief officers can still fund their private jets, buy their office-purchased 3G iPhone, and assure that the idiots like me who remain are still agonizing over getting our never-ending work completed.  Such a travesty in our system.  Now, it seems economic hardtimes are hitting our nation's governors.  Yes, I'm talking to you, Governor Rod R. Blagojevich from Illinois.  I guess he was trying to secure a high-paying job for his wife for Christmas, as well as some bling for him. Didn't work--He has a hefty jail sentence in his near future. 

Songs in My Head

After getting out of a meeting early last week, I had this brilliant idea of going running.  I changed my clothes in the hospital, listened to a woman speak to her excrement so it would mobilize better, and went to a local 3-mile track. As I arrived and completed my stretches, I had the revelation that I had forgotten my favorite running partner: my iPod.  After a long utterance of explicatives, I decided to run any way.  Unfortunately , the last song I had heard at the time was this song about "I'm so addicted to. . .the way you go down on me between the sheets", etc.  I believe the song title is "Addicted", by a group called Saving Abel.  Now, who the hell authorizes this crap to be played on the radio.  Of course, I listen to it intently, out of pure shock and dismay, thanks to the chorus consisting of being addicted to the way some chick "goes down" on him "between the sheets".  So, as I am running in the lovely fallish winter weather, this dude in the song continues to whine about getting oral sex and not feeling complete.  Then, "Addicted" fuses with "Lollipop", to form a very disturbing song.  Now, I realize that everyone loves "Lollipop".  It has one of those catchy, repetitive, almost hypnotizing beats with the catch phrase that is pervasive through out the track.  I could only make it six miles, because I am way too codependent on my iPod, the arm strap, and my clip-on headphones.  

The song that gets in my head the most, and eventually was downloaded onto my iPod was "Hot and Cold" by that chick who first kissed a girl.  I hate to admit, this is a catchy, fun track and I think I kind of like it.  I find myself singing along to it in the car and repeating it a few times.  Metro Station's "Shake It" has the same effect on me.  I heard that Miley Cyrus's half-brother is in this particular group.  Again, these tracks have that infectious, repetitive beat with some catch phrases like "Let's Drop" and "We fight, we break up, we kiss, we make up".  Obviously, there is no true musical talent involved, and looks may be an advantage in some opinions, but, not necessarily mine.  But, on a karaoke excursion, I just might be singing the line, "You PMS, like a bitch I would know".

Moments in Coconut and Uh-Oh Oreos

As I skip my department holiday party, I am lost in reverie as I am processing the movie, "Bowling for Columbine", which I just watched on IFC for the fifth-sixth time.  It is one of my all-time favorite films, and definitely is my favorite Michael Moore film.  Mr. Moore provides the other perspective of our culture and really scrutinizes how entrenched in fear and loathing we really are.  In the film, during a conversation with Marilyn Manson, who is frequently targeted as the etiology of all that is evil with  youth, Mr. Manson actually made a wonderful point that our media really brainwashes youth with tremendous fear, which results in frivolous consumption of material goods.  We are afraid that if we don't fit into society's box of what is normal, beautiful, and perfect, then we must consume these marketed products to conform us into a being that can be accepted into society's box.  I began to ponder more about hanging out with a couple of my friends last night.  We were attempting to have a holiday party, and three of us got together at a local hotspot.  I, personally, am not a bar person and I avoid the "scene" like the plague.  I find it terribly shallow, superficial, and rather irritating.  So many people who physically fit society's standards of beauty and then are attempting to outdo each other by wearing the most expensive clothes or carry the most expensive designer accessories, all purchased on credit.  The two friends I joined were very beautiful, blond women.  Now, we work together and we happen to be pretty good friends.  There happened to be a couple of groups of Indian kids hanging out there, as well as groups of white people, Latino people, and African American people.  However, I, the very brown, Indian chick, was hanging out with very blond women.  I also was dressed pretty white.  I just realized today, that I even have a white-girl haircut.  I am sure that if groups of Indians see me with a couple of blond women, they are probably thinking that I'm a coconut--or white on the inside, brown on the outside.  If a group of white people see me, they probably think that I'm a wannabe white person.  Now, I realize, that on some level, I don't meet the societal standards of beauty, as I have brown skin, and although I am thin, I am well endowed in my bust, and I have what I like to call, a "Bollywood Booty".  White guys, Indian guys, and Asian guys appear to be more comfortable with anorexic, crack-skinny chicks, or fake breasts.  African American guys and Latino guys are more comfortable with curvy women, however, they just go about things in the wrong way.  Those of us with natural curves are desired, yet guys are intimidated by us.  Quite strange, indeed.

Therefore, should I be afraid, that because I am a brown girl, with a white-girl haircut, who hangs out with a diverse group of people, and is naturally curvy without being overweight, that I may just be single the rest of my life.  Should I consume a product, like alcohol or meat, that helps me conform into a robotic being that is appealing to guys who should like me?  I remember considering buying a Lexus, thinking maybe guys would think I was cool if I drove an expensive car after seeing many Indian chicks driving BMW's, Mercedeses, Lexuses, etc.  Of course, the momentary lapse of reason was just that, momentary, and I have been happy with my Prius for three years.

Foo'd Fighting wit Top Chefs

I have to say that one of my favorite television moments is having the current NYC Top Chefs cater Thanksgiving for the Foo Fighters.  I love to eat and cook and I love the Foo Fighters.  I have probably listened to the Foo Fighters while either eating or cooking.  There were two teams of chefs who had to compete to cook a Thanksgiving meal, which was traditional, vegan, etc. It all boiled down to dessert.  The team with the questionable desserts served a pumpkin mousse with berries soaked in maple syrup, like a, to quote Taylor Hawkins, "barfait".  They also served some warped version of a s'more.  Now, I love s'mores.  The chef, Daniel, was trying to stay true to the Foo's tour rider (very hilarious, recommended read).  But, s'mores are just heavenly, with the gooey chocolate and marshmallow and I like using cinnamon graham crackers. . .aah.  Anyway, I digress. . .he tried to put bananas, as the tour rider mentioned.  However, it was rather unsuccessful, and resulted in a no-more.  In addition, they attempted to conceal raw potatoes into some semi-cooked potatoes.  Now, I know you boil/steam them before you roast them, duh!  So, the s'mores dude had to pack his knives and go, very tearfully.  The worst part is, he missed a kick-ass concert.

Overwrought Obsessions