HACKED... sort of.

As most of you know, I updated the URL for this blog a few months ago. When I started My So-Called Life in 2006 I was a novice blogger who had no idea that it probably wasn’t a good idea to have the site address contain my real first and last name. So at the risk of losing loyal followers I posted a warning, waited a week, said a prayer, and switched URLs to something a bit more generic.

I’ve been really happy with the new address and it seems like I’ve somehow been able to retain the majority of my readers. THANK YOU all for sticking with me! Especially Bek from Australia, who sent me the most thoughtful message via Facebook last night...

Bek alerted me that something strange has been going on over at my old URL. Apparently, those who still have my previous site address in their feed readers suddenly began to see postings again… WHICH WERE NOT WRITTEN BY ME. Apparently, “Paul” has obtained my old site address (did I mention that it contains my first and last name?) and is using it to post his “Insurance Thoughts.” Strangely, when I go to the link I can’t see any of the posts, just the headline.

WTF?!

“Paul” has no email address linked to his profile and no information listed other than that he is a male Leo, aged 36, from the Bronx.

I find this whole situation to be a little weird and frankly quite aggravating, because I made the decision to switch URLs specifically because I do not want a site address out there containing my real FIRST and LAST name! I have no idea what to do about this. I used Blogger’s Help feature to report it as a spam blog, but I don't know if that will really accomplish anything.

Ugh, I’m annoyed.

Does anyone have any advice or can you tell me why or how this happened?

Heat Wave...

I bet some kid in Seattle tried to fry an egg on the sidewalk yesterday, and it probably worked. Seattle is absolutely baking in a heat wave. Don’t get me wrong: I absolutely love hot weather, but this is a bit much. And temperatures aren’t expected to drop until the weekend (mid-80s by Friday). I’m definitely a sun worshipper and am always willing to spend entire weekends on a lake, next to a pool, or floating down a river. And I hate to complain about the beautiful sunshine, but it’s freaking HOT.

Having to go about my day to day life in this sweltering heat is already getting pretty old. After a stuffy morning commute on the bus, I spent the entire day yesterday at my office shivering, fingers turning blue, because the dang AC was turned up so high. I had to go sit in the sun at lunch just to bring up my core body temperature! I need to remember to bring a jacket to work in the summer. In the afternoon, I made plans with my sister to walk around Green Lake after work. Toward the end of the day she sent me a text message: “It’s too hot to exercise.” I told her to suck it up and that I’d call her when I left the office. 20 minutes later, as I entered the oven that is downtown Seattle, I sent her a text back: “It is WAY too hot to exercise!!”

Washington does not have that lovely, dry, desert heat. We have humid, thick, sweltering heat that leaves your skin sticky from the moment you step out of the shower. Commuting on the bus is the worst. No AC and evening commuters packed to the gills onto the express routes. I literally could barely breathe for the entire ride home yesterday, and had to concentrate to fight off a steadily rising panic attack.

Yes, it’s hot. But it’s really not the end of the world, and I suppose beggars can’t be choosers. Seattleites complain all winter about the rain, and now we’re whining about the heat. Our condo is absolutely sweltering (Stew’s air conditioner does not fit in our new windows), so it actually sounded appealing to head to the gym yesterday for a workout… at least I could sweat in AC. I regretted this decision immediately when I stepped back outside, sweaty from a workout, into 90 degree heat. It was 8pm. This morning I planned ahead and finished my workout by 7am. It was still 75 degrees by the time I left the park.

Today I’m trying a new tactic to keep our house cool. We opened every window and door overnight and turned on multiple fans to air things out. Then this morning I shut every window and closed all the blinds, hoping it might stay at a slightly lower temperature than outside. Tonight after work I have my first LSAT prep course, which is held in a historic building in the University District – no AC is my guess. 6pm to 10pm is going to be brutal. I’m drinking tons of water, eating popsicles, and avoiding being outside as much as I can. But until the weekend comes and I can spend 12 hours a day on a boat, I think I’m going to be whining quite a bit.

Do you have any tips and tricks to stay cool during a heat wave?

One of those days…

Do you ever just have one of those days? My mom used to read me this book called Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day when I was a kid, and every once in a while karma takes a turn and I feel just like little Alexander.

My version would read: I went to sleep too late and therefore I overslept and when I got out of bed I banged my elbow and by mistake I dropped my water bottle on the floor and spilled everywhere and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

The first few minutes of my day actually weren’t all that uncommon, but it just got progressively worse from there. First I struggled through boot camp with a very upset stomach. Then I spent too long in the shower and ended up having to run for the bus. It’s never a good day when you start out by sprinting down a busy street in high heels after a metro bus.

On the way to work, I realized I had left my flat iron on, but it was too late to get off the Express bus and go back. So once I got downtown I had to borrow a co-worker’s car, turn around, and head home to turn it off. On the way, I realized I had forgotten my cell phone and a bottle of lotion had exploded inside my purse onto my iPod and camera. Once I arrived home again, I found said flat iron already unplugged.

Back at work, I checked my account and saw that the bank had erred once again. In addition, I called to see why my new debit card (replacement due to fraud) had not arrived for more than 10 days, and was told the idiot at customer service never ordered one for me.

I think I may need to resolve to move to Australia, like Alexander. I guess it’s just one of those days…

Bad Dog

I’ve never claimed to be a dog lover – I’m really much more of a cat person. But a couple years ago my parents got an adorable Miniature Pinscher named Roxy. Maybe it’s because she is a small dog, or maybe it’s the simple fact that she seems to like me, but I actually found myself adoring little Roxy. I look forward to playing and cuddling with her when I visit my parents.

However, after this weekend, I’ve decided that the dog is evil. My parents haven’t necessarily given Roxy much training, and she’s super spoiled. She goes in and out of the house through a doggie door to the back yard as she pleases, and spends a lot of her time sleeping by the fireplace or in people’s laps.

She is also an escape artist. Roxy has absolutely no idea how good she has it at my parent’s house, and bolts out the front door every chance she gets. My parents have had to resort to putting electrified mats in front of the door that shock Roxy when she steps on them. But the mats sometimes get moved (when company comes over, etc.) and then they have to be super careful to hold the dog by the collar whenever the door is open.

Many, many times when I have visited my parents, Roxy has somehow escaped. Normally, when a dog gets loose it might run for a minute, but then you call it and it comes back. Right? I thought that was the whole point of dogs. They’re supposed to be smarter than cats because they are loyal and they obey their owners, correct? Not Roxy. When she escapes, she bolts like lighting down the street as fast and as far as she can. When you call her name, she runs faster… in the other direction. I’ve never seen anything like it. It takes hours of walking/driving around the neighborhood calling her name and waving treats to catch her.

This weekend, I went down to my parent’s house for Easter. Sunday morning, we all got ready to go over to my grandma’s house. Since we were taking separate cars, Stewart and I were the last to leave. I thought Roxy was in the backyard, and stupidly opened the front door to leave. The electrified mats were not in place. Suddenly, a streak of brown and black shot by my leg and Roxy was gone. You’ve got to be kidding me!

It was absolutely POURING down rain. I had just spent an hour getting ready and was wearing suede boots. My parents were long gone. And we had to catch the dog before leaving because my mom thinks Roxy is a human child and would freak out if we just left her, loose. Ironically, we caught her within 10 minutes right outside the cul-de-sac. Roxy jumped in the car door right into my lap for a waiting slice of bacon. She was soaking wet. And covered in poop, which she had apparently rolled in. I was practically in tears while Stewart sat and laughed at me. Not funny, dude.

Back at the house, I locked the evil dog in the backyard in the cold, pouring rain. I figured she deserved it. Then I marched upstairs to dry myself off and clean up. A little while later, as I picked up my bag to finally head out, I saw something out of the corner of my eye… something brown and black, which streaked across the front yard. No. NO. NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! That’s right, doggie lovers. Roxy had escaped the backyard through the side gate. I wanted to cry.

We called Roxy’s name again and again, but she looked back at us, turned, and ran as fast as she could around the corner and out of sight. I was so furious I think smoke came out my ears. Stewart and I drove aimlessly through the neighborhood for a while, but there was no sign of her. Eventually, we just gave up and went back to the house to wait. As we neared the driveway, Stew slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting… Roxy. She jumped into the car again, happy as a clam to see us. I wrapped her in a towel and tried not to gag at the overwhelming smell of feces. Happy Easter, Sarah.

I do not like dogs. Officially.

So, I have a question…

Why, why, why do half of the people in my class raise their hand and then, when called on, start out by saying, “Um... so... I have a question…” and then pause and stare blankly at the instructor like they need him to say, “And what is your question?” before being allowed to continue?

No sh*t you have a question!! JUST.ASK.IT. I thought the general idea that in a class, when you raise your hand, it’s pretty much a given that you have a question. Or maybe a comment. But is prefacing it with “I have a question” really necessary?!?

I did the math and figure I pay roughly $50 bucks a night to take this class, and I really don’t appreciate how much of my time is being wasted by people explaining that they have a question before even asking it.

Funny how things have changed from when I was an undergrad, and any excuse to waste time in class was welcomed. I’m old.

Rants & Raves

Current things that annoy me

• Rude people. What is with men who won’t give up their seat on the bus? Not to me, I can stand, but when I see a little old lady fall over in the isle and six men don’t even look up from their newspapers or offer to give her their seat, I swear smoke comes out of my ears.
• Cell phone scams. Cell phones and batteries are designed to last about a year, but they still force you to sign a two year contract. Hence why my phone will only stay on for about 10 minutes unless it’s plugged in. And I’m not due for a new one until May.
• Doctor appointments. Every year when I go to get my annual exam my doctor thinks of at least a dozen tests he wants done. I’ve been poked and prodded way too much in the past week and a half, and this morning I have ultrasound goo in my hair.

Current things that make me happy

• Tech updates. I finally have MS Publisher on my computer, so I can quit asking my co-worker to design stuff for me.
• Party planning. This weekend I bought firefighter-themed cookie cutters for Stew’s graduation party. Super cute.
• Daylight savings. Even though I got up and went to work in the dark this morning, it was worth it because this means that spring is coming!!
• Brunch. Even though I have no social life, I've still managed to have brunch with my girlfriends for the past few weekends in a row, and just that little bit of time together brightens up my week.
• Countdowns. Only four more days until I am done with this quarter of school, and just two weeks and Stewart will finally graduate from Fire Academy!

M is for Misdemeanor

Flash back to 2002. I was a sophomore in college, just a few months shy of my 21st birthday.

According to RCW 66.44.310 it is illegal for a person under the age of 21 to enter a restricted area where alcohol is being served or represent their age to be 21 for the purpose of purchasing liquor or secure admission to an area classified as off-limits. Well… yeah. I probably knew these things were illegal… but I did them anyway.

My friends and I decided to spice up a Saturday evening by going to a local club that was notorious for letting in minors. We showed our real IDs and lo and behold, we were let right in. I was just enjoying a sip of my first drink when some unexpected visitors arrived… the cops. Of course my underage friends and I panicked, hid in the bathroom for about 45 minutes, and then tried to slip out the back. Our plan did not work.

We were cornered, read our rights (very scary!) and handed tickets for “minor frequenting a tavern or lounge.” To this day I still don’t see how they can call it “frequenting” when they catch you in there one time, but I digress.

Of course did not want a misdemeanor on my record, so my friend Sheena and I contacted a local attorney with a reputation for getting college students out of MIPs, DUIs, etc. For $300 he agreed to represent us in court and guaranteed that the citation would be dropped with a warning, a fine, and one year’s probation - thus ensuring that the violation would not end up on our permanent records. This seemed like a pretty sweet deal to me. The day of court arrived and everything went according to plan. I was let off with a warning, paid the fine, and did not receive any more alcohol related charges for one year. (In fact, I have not received on since).

Fast-forward to 2009. I was chatting with my office manager recently, talking about “the good ol’ days” in college (God, I’m getting old) and was fondly remembering this little story. Her response? “Oh, I’ve totally been meaning to ask you about that. It showed up on the background check we ran before hiring you.”

Excuse me, what?! I paid $450 (quite a large sum for a broke college student) to make sure that this thing did not end up on my permanent record, was assured that it wouldn’t, and then here it is!! To this day I can’t figure out what happened… Did the attorney misrepresent his abilities? Was there a mistake in how the court filed the paperwork? I think I shredded all the documentation last year in a cleaning frenzy so unfortunately I can’t go back and reference it.

Sure, this doesn’t seem like such a big deal now that years have passed, and obviously having this on my record hasn’t affected my ability to get a job, but I’m still semi-annoyed. Maybe I can sue the lawyer… I’ll have to look into that.

C is for Clothes, Cash and Computers

I was pretty excited on Friday when my paycheck contained time-and-a-half pay for more than 20 hours of overtime. And to compensate myself for the stress I experienced while putting in those extra hours, last weekend I took myself shopping for some new work clothes. An afternoon by myself, wandering around shopping in downtown Seattle, was exactly the type of retail therapy I had been craving. Let's just say I came home with quite a few bags.

On Sunday I needed to knock some things off my never ending to-do list, so I started the morning off by doing my taxes. This ended up being another great experience, because I discovered I will be getting almost two grand in returns this year! I immediately began planning what I would do with the money (or at least what's left of it after I pay off winter quarter tuition).

However, my day was about to take a turn for the worst. If you're familiar with Sex & the City, specifically, the season 4 episode entitled "My Motherboard, My Self" then I don't even have to go any further. For the rest of you... go ahead and keep reading.

On Saturday night my iBook froze while I was surfing the net. I immediately force quit the application and noticed a weird, "your computer will now be required to shut down" message I had never seen before. From that point on, I couldn't get the damn thing to restart, so I made a Sunday afternoon appointment at the Mac store. Diagnosis, "Um, yeah, I think your hard drive is fried. Do you have everything backed up?"

F*CK.

And there you go, folks. For those of you, like me, who have been thinking for months and months that you really need to get an external hard drive and back up your files, PLEASE DO IT. The Seattle Mac Store was not able to recover any of the data from my hard drive, so in order to recover FOUR YEARS WORTH of photos from my computer, I have to send it to DriveSavers for the bargain price of $855. Oh, and I also need to purchase a new hard drive. OUCH. Looks like my tax return just found a new home, and it's not in my savings account.

Live and learn, people. Live and learn...

Bus Sick

I’ve always been able to read while in transit. Cars, busses, airplanes – nothing phases me. However, lately I seem to have developed an annoying problem: I’ve developed an extreme case of bus sickness.

This has been a major impact on my life, considering the fact that I spend three trips, for a combined total of more than two hours, on the bus each day:

#1: Ballard to Downtown - 30 minutes
#2: Downtown to U District - 45 minutes
#3: U District to Ballard - 45 minutes

It’s quite the commute. Normally, I occupy myself with reading or studying, which makes the tedious rides a little more bearable. But lately things have changed. I get on the bus, settle in with my textbook, and begin to read. A few stops later, queasy and light headed, I slowly shut it. Then, I spend the rest of the bus ride trying not to vomit all over the person in front of me. I alternate between closing my eyes and looking straight forward, breathing deeply and chanting, “Don’t puke, don’t puke, don’t puke…” in my head.

No, I’m not knocked up.

But the whole situation is quite annoying. When you spend as much time on the bus as me, it’s absolutely imperative that I can use the ride to my full advantage. I can’t waste two hours every day sitting and staring straight ahead like an idiot. Even listening to my iPod is a waste of time… I have so much studying to do!!

I’m hitting up the drug store ASAP to see if I can buy some anti-nausea tablets or something.

Blech.

Friday Night Rendezvous

Why someone would name a restaurant “BJ’s,” I have no idea, but in any case, my friend Crystal organized a Friday night rendezvous at the brand new BJ’s Restaurant & Brewhouse in Southcenter Mall last weekend.

When our large group sat down, of course the first thing the boys did was torment our poor waitress with comments like, “So… what’s the special… at BJ’s?” followed by inappropriate snickering. Oh Lord. It seemed we had quite a rowdy group, so it was probably good that they sat us in a back area separated from the main dining room.

Even though I’m not a fan of the name, I did have a great evening at BJ’s. They had a ton of different beers and a menu the size of a novel filled with loads of yummy comfort foods. So we ordered drinks… appetizers… more drinks… food… more drinks… dessert… more drinks. We ended up staying for about four hours, talking and laughing until we basically closed down the restaurant. Yum, yum, a simply scrumptious evening.


The only downfall? Since we had a large party they automatically added gratuity onto our bill. Therefore, I did not tip on top of it. However, I just looked at my bank statement and our lovely waitress took the liberty of adding on an additional tip of her own choice amount. Ooooooh, this type of thing really ticks me right off! It’s not the $10 that bugs me, it’s the feeling that I was taken advantage of. I just called the manager and am waiting for a call back. If this is not resolved, I will not be visiting BJ’s again…

Good intentions, bad results

I went grocery shopping last night with the goal of planning out some healthy meals for the week. Even though I'm not generally a fan, I decided to include some breakfast foods. And for some reason, while walking up and down the produce isles, I decided to pick up a couple grapefruits. They just looked yummy, fresh, bright and citrusy piled there between the oranges and pineapples. And besides, isn’t grapefruit supposed to be part of some miracle diet that causes you to lose 10 pounds in 10 days or something?

So this morning at work I was feeling quite productive and healthy as I sat down with my half grapefruit and cup of green tea. Yeah… I have no idea what I was thinking. I somehow failed to remember that I hate grapefruit. It tastes very yucky. In general, it is very sour and bitter at the same time, and the tiny bit of sweetness you get is not even close to a reward. No matter how much Splenda you sprinkle on top, the taste is just horrible, kind of like drinking orange juice right after brushing your teeth.

In addition, I somehow managed to cut it the wrong way (come on Sarah, how hard is cutting a grapefruit in half?) which meant I really had to dig for each foul little bite. As a result, I now have grapefruit juice splattered all over my desk and keyboard. One nasty little drop even made it directly into my eye. This was not the morning I had hoped for. I think I have a case of the Mondays.

Fried Chicken

When my class ended early last night I excitedly rushed to the bus stop, expecting to catch an earlier bus home. Unfortunately, the bus was running late and I had to sit at the stop for 25 minutes (it was very cold) until a route going to Ballard arrived.

As we neared Ballard, a woman dragging several suitcases, carts and bags of God-knows-what got on the bus (forcing the driver to use the lift, which is supposed to be reserved for disabled people). The woman then went on for two or three minutes about why she was unable to pay the fare. Exasperated, the driver told her to sit down and we were on our way. However, Bag Lady continued to ramble. She explained to the driver that since she had not eaten all day and was very tired, it was absolutely imperative that he stop the bus directly in front of KFC. She could not be forced to drag all her items a half block from the designated bus stop. And could he please hurry up? After all, KFC closes at 9:30 and if he hustled, she could just about make it.

Are you freaking kidding me? And the most ludicrous part is that the bus driver obliged this woman! She got a free ride and a customized stop off for a bucket of chicken! No wonder the bus was running late, if the driver was taking requests all evening. Grrrr. I mean, I know I’m helping to save the Earth and everything by using public transportation, but I’m beginning to reach my limit. And now I’m craving fried chicken.

Boyfriend v. Kitty

I have written about my attention whore of a cat before, but at the request of a reader I’d like to take a moment elaborate on yesterday’s “training my boyfriend and my cat to coexist is going to be an uphill battle” comment.

I’d like to first point out that Boyfriend loves animals. However, owning pets does not quite fit in with his obsessively clean, borderline OCD personality. So the following items have been constant issues since the three of us moved in together:

• Kitty sometimes darts from one end of the condo to another – This causes Boyfriend to freak and examine the brand new hardwood floors for scratches.
• Boyfriend then suggests getting Kitty declawed – This causes me to freak, because I think declawing cats is incredibly horrible and mean.
• Kitty lounges peacefully on Boyfriend’s couch, contentedly kneading the leather – Boyfriend does not appreciate all the tiny scratches and holes in his couch this is causing.
• Boyfriend hates the idea of a litter box, but this is obviously unavoidable with an indoor cat – I’m attempting to clean said litter box on a daily basis.
• Even though the litter box is always clean, I can’t seem to stop Kitty from tracking litter all over the condo – Boyfriend (obviously) hates this.
• Boyfriend will not allow Kitty to sleep on our bed, because she leaves fur all over the bedding – However, Kitty is used to sleeping on the bed with me.
• Kitty has since been locked out of the bedroom at night – This causes her to cry, scratch at the door, and cause mischief all night… Boyfriend is not pleased (we’ve even found litter tracked up on top of our brand new dining room table… eek!)
• Kitty has managed to completely tear up Boyfriend’s area rug, using it as a scratching post – I think she does this during her midnight mischief.
• Boyfriend is constantly threatening to throw Kitty off the deck – This annoys me to no end and has caused me to start throwing back nasty comments at Boyfriend (who I generally adore).

However, apart from these general annoyances, I think Boyfriend generally likes having Kitty around. Kitty is very talkative and the two of them sometimes have quite animated conversations. Kitty also appears to like Boyfriend more than she likes me, often choosing his lap over mine when we’re lounging on the couch. It’s just all those bothersome “cat behaviors” that I’m going to have to figure out. So far, I’ve done the following:

• Researched how to trim a cat’s claws (have not gotten around to actually doing it yet).
  Purchased a cat bed, which we now place at the foot of our own bed and have trained Kitty to sleep in it (thereby alleviating midnight mischief and meowing).
• Set up a scratching box thing (not working at all, need to purchase an actual scratching post ASAP).
• Bought a “litter box rug” that supposedly catches litter as Kitty exits the box (not absolutely sure this is working yet, but it seems to be at least helping).
• Threatened to leave Boyfriend if he mentions throwing Kitty off deck one more time (I wish he thought I was serious).

Bottom line: Kitty needs to start cooperating. Frankly, she’s completely spoiled and has no idea how good she has it. I rescued her from the Humane Society for a life indoors eating all the food she wants. I even clean up after her when she shits… can you imagine a better life? I think a little appreciation is in order. Also, both Kitty and Boyfriend need to take a little lesson in, “Can’t we just all get along?”

Um… A Little Creepy.

The time has come for me to say it. It’s just getting a little too weird and creepy. As most bloggers do, I check my statistics fairly frequently. And for months now, without fail, every time I check out my stats, someone from an unknown IP address is repeatedly, sometimes a dozen times in a day, checking out my May and June 2007 archives. Most frequently, the viewer clicks on images of me at Cailin and Clint’s wedding. Please tell me… what the heck is so darn entertaining about this time in my life?

What should I make of this situation? Should I be flattered? Should I expect to one day soon stumble across my face photoshopped onto someone else’s nude body? I just don’t know what to think. Advice, loyal readers? Anyone want to fess up?

Doing Your Civic Duty... Sucks.

I spent the majority of this week doing my civic duty as a randomly selected juror for the Municipal Court of Seattle. According to the paperwork I was sent in the mail, "serving as a juror is a right, a privilege and a responsibility of citizenship." In addition, I was informed that as a reward for being such a good citizen, I would be compensated... in the form of $10 a day for my generous services. Whoop-tee-doo. Lucky for me, my company is one of those rare employers who is still willing to pay me my normal paycheck for up to five days of jury duty.

Unfortunately, I couldn't figure out a reason why the summons would cause me "undue hardship" so I reported at 8:30 a.m. on Tuesday. At first I was a little bit excited. I thought the whole experience might be somewhat interesting - trials always seem so intense on television. I got checked in, along with about 60 other people, and we were shown a video about what would happen once we were selected as jurors for the specific cases that may go to trial that week. Then, they informed us, began the "hurry up and wait" experience.

All 60 of us were told to wait in the large room full of chairs and tables until we were called. Due to a compatibility issue, my Mac iBook was not able to connect to the building's WiFi, so for a while I sat and read my book. Four public access PCs were available for use, but since there were so many other people waiting I was only able to jump on for a few minutes at a time to check my email. Other people worked on their laptops, read newspapers and magazines, and worked puzzles from the shelves of games available. Every few hours, a group of 16 names would be called, and those people would disappear down a hallway. I was not summoned.

At noon we were dismissed for our 1.5 hour lunch break. I grabbed a quick bite across the street at Columbia Center and then with nothing else to do (it was really too cold to walk down to Pioneer Square) I went back to play the waiting game. I read my book... I napped for a while... I checked my email... I read my book... I napped for a while... I called Stewart... I read my book... I checked my email. Finally, at about 2:30 p.m. my name was called. My group was taken down a locked elevator to another floor, where we were crowded into a small room and told to wait. Finally, one hour later, the bailiff lead us into the courtroom.

At this point, the judge informed us that the case was one in which a man had been accused of driving without a license. Six jurors would need to be selected for the case, but it was too late in the day to begin the process, so the judge dismissed us until the next morning. I had effectively wasted 8 hours of my life.

The next morning we returned and waited for about an hour before the bailiff brought us back down to the courtroom. At this point I was starting to get somewhat interested. The judge told us more about the case, and then for about an hour the judge, the prosecutor and the defendant asked us all kinds of questions before selecting six jurors for the case. I was not chosen. I had hoped that at this point I would be dismissed and allowed to return to work. Nope. Back to the pit. Apparently you have to be chosen to serve on a trial before you are dismissed. Great.

The remainder of my day was pretty much the same as the previous. I read my book... I napped for a while... I checked my email... I read my book... I had lunch... I napped for a while... I called my office... I read my book... I checked my email. At about 4 p.m. it was announced that we could go home for the day, and were expected to return the next morning. At this point I was going absolutely insane. I explained that I had an important client meeting the next day and it would really create an "undue hardship" to miss it, and so, thank the Lord, I was excused from a third day of service. I feel incredibly sorry for those who were not so lucky.

To me, it really seems like an inefficient system to force so many people away from their jobs to do virtually nothing for days on end. But that's just my opinion. For me, jury duty was a huge disappointment and waste of time, but I can imagine that the whole experience would have been much more entertaining if I had been assigned to a case trial. Ah well, I suppose it was nice to have a couple days of just sitting around doing nothing. But if I were you, I wouldn't jump for joy when you see the bold words "JURY SUMMONS" appear in your mailbox...

Dear Seattle

Dear Seattle,

This weekend will mark our three-year anniversary.

For years I admired you from afar, catching glimpses of you here and there. When we officially met a few years ago when I moved to the city, my childhood infatuation immediately turned into true, undying love. It was meant to be.

But, dear Seattle, I can no longer endure our relationship or the direction it is headed. Things need to change. In the beginning you embraced me with open arms. You introduced me to new friends, provided me with new experiences and expanded my horizons with an overwhelming abundance of opportunities. I was enchanted, and felt that I could really make a serious commitment to you.

Even when your rising cost of living caused an alarming increase in my rent last year, I didn’t complain – I’m used to your lavish lifestyle expectations. I adjusted my living situation to accommodate you. You forced me to pay more than $300 for my car registration – and then went back on your promise to build an extended Monorail. I tried to understand that sometimes these things happen. From my office, I witnessed a shooting right outside on your streets. I just gritted my teeth and thought, “Hey, no one’s perfect.”

But I cannot continue to make excuses for you, Seattle. You have gone from simply not caring about my feelings or how things affect me to being completely abusive. Frankly, you’ve started to disgust me. Your filthy streets leak revolting, foul-smelling steam from its drains. Homeless panhandlers shove signs and repellent tattered cups in my face as I attempt to avoid them on the sidewalk. Then they screech obscenities at me as I walk away. What did I do to deserve this type of treatment?

As I walk down the street, I often have to sidestep or risk getting hit with spit, a snot rocket or a carelessly tossed cigarette butt. I would say you don’t even bother to pay the slightest bit of attention to me, but in fact as I often innocently make my way to work or the bus stop, I am literally harassed with degrading cat calls: “Hey girl, how you doin’?” and “Has anyone stopped to tell you you’re beautiful today?” and “Hey honey, can I buy you a cheeseburger?” and “Damn girl, you so fine!” How can you speak to me in such a derogatory manner?

Even the Mounties you’ve provided to try and keep things clean and safe downtown have literally started to shit all over it. You don’t even bother to pick up after them. Your police officers lean against buildings chatting while across the street I can clearly see the buying and selling of drugs. You don’t seem to care, not even realizing how upset it makes me to see my hard-earned tax dollars pay for this so-called “protection” you claim to provide.

Honestly, what have you done for me lately? If you think teasing me with a bit of sunshine for a few days is going to make things better, you’re wrong. Right now I just don’t see a future for us. My salary has not increased significantly in over a year, and with the rising costs of homes I will never be able to afford to stay here permanently.

Seattle, I love you with all my heart and soul. But I don’t have to like you right now. There are so many amazing attributes about you that I know I will never find anywhere else. But I can only take so much. Please, Seattle, let’s try to make this work.

Hopefully,

Sarah

My Naïvety Continues

I will readily admit to being far, far too gullible. I mean come on – infomercials are one of my favorite things on television, and you can pretty much convince me of anything. But today was really a letdown.

I’m sure I’m not the only one who has started taking Airborne every few hours at the slightest hint of a sniffle in order to avoid a full blown cold or the flu. In fact, when I run out at work I never have to worry – there are at least three or four other co-workers with a trusty tablet to lend me. And up until today I was totally convinced of this miracle cure.

Always the person to bring me back to reality, Stewart has been skeptical about Airborne since the day I started making him take it. So I wasn’t surprised that he was the one to call me today and alert me of a breaking news story:

Supplement company Airborne to settle $23.3M suit

Apparently there is no credible evidence that what’s in Airborne can prevent colds or protect from a germ infested environment. It’s basically an overpriced vitamin pill that’s been deceptively marketed. And even though the company doesn’t admit to having done anything wrong, they have agreed to settle the litigation and are even refunding money to consumes who bought the product. I hope you kept your receipts.

Bummer. All this time I could have just been taking a multi-vitamin instead of spending $8 on tubes of this crap. But I really did think it cured me! In any case, at least it forced me to drink a ton of fluid, which isn’t all bad.

Why am I so naïve?!?

Jumping Through Hoops

In November, my friend Tara and I attended the Seattle Ski & Snowboard Expo down at Qwest Field. On our way in and throughout the expo we signed up for lots of free stuff and entered lots of drawings. By the next day, we had forgotten all about it.

About six weeks later I received a call… Apparently, I had won a free, all expense paid trip to Las Vegas for two – SCORE! I immediately called Stewart with the good news.

Catch #1: In order to receive our “free gift” we were required to attend a timeshare presentation on the Eastside within the next 24 hours. Ah ha. I could feel a scam coming on, but we decided to check it out anyway.

The next evening we attended the timeshare presentation, which took about two hours but was relatively painless. Frankly, I probably could have gotten out of it in the first five minutes by showing them that the combined totals of my checking and savings accounts had less than $14 in them. In any case, we got passed around to various people who continued to hard sell us on the timeshare idea. We adamantly insisted to each person that we “just wanted our free trip,” until they finally handed it over and shooed us out the door.

Catch #2: Upon looking at the paperwork, we found out what the restrictions of our trip would be. We could only fly out on a Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday. Bummer. We would have to pay upfront $95 to cover all the taxes and fees. We would have to stay at an “economy-class” hotel a.k.a. “off the strip.” Ah well. I suppose that’s what you get for free.

When sending in our paperwork we had to choose three departure days that might work for us. We chose three days in April and hoped for a Wednesday departure date. When the confirmation arrived a few weeks later, we discovered we would be leaving Tuesday, April 8. Ah well, it could be worse.

Catch #3: At this point I was starting to realize the company was going to make it as difficult as possible for us to cash in on our “free trip.” Along with our confirmation letter were some other restrictions and hoops to jump through. It did not come with any return envelopes (postage paid or otherwise), carbon copy documents, or receipts. I had to make photo copies of all the documents after filling them out and had to search high and low for the address to mail the $95 fee to. In addition, the $95 could only be paid by cashier’s check or money order – no personal checks. I also had a very hard time figuring out who to make the money order out to.

At this point I realized that they really wanted us to make a mistake that would allow them to decline our trip. So I was careful to read all the fine print and not make a mistake. It seemed that I was doing ok so far, until… enter biggest scam of all.

Catch #4: Last week I received a phone call from the company confirming our trip. This is where it really gets good. Apparently, our “free trip” consisted of the following: Flying out very late Tuesday night, spending Wednesday in Vegas and then potentially flying out as early as 6 a.m. on Thursday morning. So of course, I was then offered the “Upgrade Option for only $278!” For this extra money, we would receive preferred flights leaving early Tuesday morning and returning late Thursday night, for a full three days and two nights in Vegas. We would be upgraded to the strip (low end strip = Stratosphere / Sahara / Riviera / Circus, Circus). We would receive complimentary shuttles to and from the airport. We would be given $100 to gamble with and comedy show tickets.

Well that all sounds great. But how did our trip end up going from FREE to $373? For that much money I could have planned my own damn trip to Vegas and stayed in the hotel that I wanted and booked the flights that I wanted. But at this point we were in pretty deep. Once we did the math and realized it was only $186.50 per person we decided to suck it up and do it. As compensation to ourselves, we bought some pricey Cirque du Soleil tickets.

In all honesty, if I knew my free trip was going to be so much work I would never have gone through with it. And to top it all off, Tara ended up winning a “free trip” as well, which makes it pretty clear that they were given out to everyone in an attempt to sell timeshares.

But at this point Stewart and I are going to have a good attitude about the whole thing, and bottom line – WE ARE GOING TO VEGAS, BABY!

Jury Duty?!?

I’ve often wondered who these people are that apparently get called for jury duty. Never having been called myself, or even known someone who has been required to serve, the whole process didn’t even really seem real to me. Welcome to reality, Sarah.

I have been summoned. This week I received a notice from the Municipal Court of Seattle stating that I have been randomly selected to serve as a trial juror on March 25^th. What a pain in my caboose. I’m sure that even though I am paid salary, my office will force me to waste one of my precious personal days on this chore. Oh, but not to worry, additional payment for each day of service (as set by The Seattle City Council) is a hefty $10! Maybe this will be enough to cover my parking at the Seattle Justice Center, which is apparently “limited and expensive.” The only upside is that we are supposedly dismissed each day by 4:30 p.m. which will give me an extra hour or two of productive daylight time. Other than that…

HOW ANNOYING.

Junk Mail

I’ve always gotten a minor amount of junk mail in my work email box. For a while last summer I received a Britney Spears crotch shot about once a week. But lately it’s gotten completely out of control. This week so far I have received TWENTY-NINE emails urging me to “click here and enlarge my penis.” And it's only Wednesday morning. It’s really become quite annoying. Here are some example messages; let me know if anything sounds appealing and I can forward you the appropriate link.

• Be the stud of the party, EVERY party.
• Your throbbing powerful tool will keep her satisfied.
• Performance in bed is set to soar.
• Love the feeling of my huge manhood driving into her non stop.
• Turn the tool in your pants into a power drill.
• Lovin’ her the right way means filling her up the right way.
• The growth that I got on my manhood is AMAZING.
• A big schlong is a man’s best friend.
• The girls will go "wow" and wild.
• Thick, long tools are a woman's favorite instruments.
• Boost your confidence with your new-found instrument.
• Always wanted to shaft your shaft deeper into her? Now you can.
• Give her a ride on your ROCKET.

I’ve tried responding to the messages with “Unsubscribe” but somehow they’ve got it set up so I am just responding to myself. HOW DO I MAKE THIS STOP?!?