tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-151202702012-01-19T00:42:23.409-05:00A Life Lived Ill-at-Ease.Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.comBlogger2511100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-6271466149093358272012-01-18T23:56:00.002-05:002012-01-19T00:42:23.424-05:00

The waiting room at the dentist this morning was quiet. I've been going to this dentist in Gaithersburg for about 35 years. My hygienist today is someone I nicknamed "The Crusher" (inspired by the Warner Bros. cartoon featuring Bugs Bunny) at around 10 years old. I'm not sure whether my gums have gotten tougher or whether she's gotten gentler, but I don't think of her as The Crusher anymore. She

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-72049979981764798062012-01-04T22:18:00.003-05:002012-01-05T21:59:22.218-05:00

- Rutabaga puts the soily, undesirable "root" into root vegetables, and I don't like it. I am adding that to my list of vegetables from which I am MovingOn.org, which includes green beans, lima beans and beets.- Is that person truly boring, or have I just failed to access his or her interestingness?- I am keeping the Christmas lights up too long, just because.- The gym and yoga studio are super

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-28576271401260649242011-11-02T23:39:00.003-05:002011-11-03T00:01:00.103-05:00

A friend writes to me the other day: "so i am so addled and ridiculous and old school that i look at yourphoto on fb and then GET ONTO EMAIL to send you a note."A colleague says to me today something along the lines of:"Here's how crazed and tired I am. I saw your IM from 10AM this morning saying you were going to call me for our meeting and I thought it was from you just now at 5:30 and that's

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-23496010423423287472011-10-25T22:15:00.020-05:002011-10-31T21:27:47.182-05:00

Have you ever been able to reveal the weakest, most morally questionable aspects of yourself to someone, and never have it come back to bite you in the ass? I didn't think so.There's a window in a relationship when you can intimate that these flaws exist within your soul. This window usually lasts, oh, a few hours in the aggregate. It's a delightful time: The time when you feel you have found

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-24239857651913570062011-10-11T21:13:00.021-05:002011-10-16T08:55:21.647-05:00

Fall used to be my favorite season.I loved the change in the air, the colors, and most of all the smells: smoke, cinnamon, warming dough, pumpkin, cider, dried vegetation. The crisp wind also signaled new prospects. The school year always brought another chance to be better, to stand out in some previously unimaginable way, even though the reality was that every move I made at school was oriented

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-23564669153699927302011-09-22T10:14:00.023-05:002011-09-22T17:21:35.420-05:00

"I dunno if you were following the hearings about Google yesterday," someone typed to me today. I was not.I also did not watch the Emmys. Or the MTV Awards. I reasoned out of reading the entirety of last week's New Yorker except for the T.S. Eliot essay by telling myself, "All of these pieces will end up in some book at some point. You can read them then, if you're really interested." I only

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-38704888999538974362011-07-12T20:39:00.013-05:002011-07-13T13:44:36.262-05:00

Saw an old friend from an old job today after, I don't know, 10-odd years of living our lives and trading the occasional email. In the old days, we'd sit in the crappy Irish pub after work sometimes, drinking whiskey sours and talking about fiction-writing.Today, we sat in a middling hotel restaurant at lunchtime talking about real life -- kids, jobs, real estate, book promotion (not that I have

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-69639263717024074012011-07-11T10:03:00.005-05:002011-07-11T14:38:36.875-05:00

"Hey, can I interrupt for one second?" Coworker 1 approaches my desk, where I am sitting down and showing Coworker 2 something on my computer.Coworker 1 wants to thank me for the help I gave her in setting up a hub for some space shuttle launch coverage."Oh sure, no problem. I hardly did anything," I said."No but you gave me the foundation for understanding the code and everything, which was

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-70050017614054331362011-07-07T20:46:00.010-05:002011-07-08T12:29:58.636-05:00

So, for the last 24 hours or so, I've been intermittently listening to a podcast called The Lavender Hour, which is basically what happens when two people say, OMG our conversations are so entertaining, we should just tape them and put them on the Internets, only instead of just talking about it, they actually do it. I found it because I had just watched Duncan Trussell in Drunk History Vol. 6

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-13635744333295634502011-06-24T22:16:00.018-05:002011-06-25T10:32:34.536-05:00

It's been awhile. That's not because I have lacked for Uncomfortable Moments. It's because I have lacked for discipline.Tonight I was walking along P Street by myself, having deposited a check at the Citibank branch on Connecticut Avenue and 18th, and moving toward Whole Foods. Once again, it was past dinnertime and I was trying to figure out what to have for dinner on this Friday night alone.

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-55376808462234178072011-05-18T20:38:00.016-05:002011-05-19T10:11:28.478-05:00

The no. 5 most-popular headline today at The Washington Post was "The Trouble With Men." Well played, WaPo, well played. Even a media cynic like me, hardened as I am to cheap headline ploys, had trouble resisting such an invitation. Sure, I have my own ideas about the trouble with men (chafing stubble; blind, universal devotion to Zooey Deschanel, AC/DC and Monty Python; cigars; a weird need to

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-55530478545815780332011-05-04T22:14:00.021-05:002011-05-05T07:16:31.986-05:00

Hello, friends. How is spring treating you?I decided to usher in the season by: sneezing copiously, bitching about the unseasonably cold weather in D.C., wearing compression stockings (which is a separate post) and getting a "Sun Safety Kit" from Sephora. "Sun Safety Kit" translates to "lots of beauty samples that seem like a bargain but probably are not and yet are irresistible."For those of you

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-63253055048976748772011-04-22T10:42:00.006-05:002011-04-22T10:59:43.901-05:00

This recent piece on crying in public in The New York Times struck a chord. In the past I have noted that one of the advantages to living in New York is that you can cry with impunity on the streets. No one will care. The writer of the NYT piece, Melissa Febos, also raises another public UncMo: tripping on the street. The public wipeout elicits a different response from open weeping: you’re more

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-14595661456134429452011-04-20T22:01:00.004-05:002011-04-20T22:51:15.585-05:00

Monday, 9:45 a.m. A random bumper lies forlorn on 16th St. near the Methodist Church and P. It looks like it's waiting to be picked up. By Wednesday evening, it will be stripped of its license plate, but still sit on the sidewalk as if it means to stay.Tuesday, 9:30 a.m. A cop is directing traffic at 18th and Connecticut Sts. The World Bank and the IMF are meeting, so there are a lot of police

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-80201311222262976082011-03-29T21:15:00.015-05:002011-03-31T20:35:37.776-05:00

Recent coverage in The New Yorker of the Japan earthquake and tsunami aftermath included a mention of song requests at Tokyo FM. It got me curious about which pop songs were speaking to the Japanese at this horrible moment in time for them. I remembered that right after Sept. 11, for some reason "Trouble" by Coldplay was the song that kept surfacing in my head, and then I turned on the TV and saw

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-308118740050086752011-03-16T20:29:00.012-05:002011-03-17T00:19:43.875-05:00

My new primary care doc conveniently has a lab located right in the basement of his office, which means no annoying, separate trip to a depressing vendor like Quest Diagnostics to get routine bloodwork.Instead, I could go to a depressing LabCorp (apparently) vendor right down in the basement. In the white, laundry-room-like atmosphere (there was literally a washer and dryer on the way to the

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-18462954215209740682011-03-10T20:57:00.008-05:002011-03-10T23:07:02.475-05:00

This morning I was wondering why the interjection "Really?" has become so prominent in the last couple of years. Most recently, Bachelor host Chris Harrison invoked it to shame women who were piling onto Michelle during the "Women Tell All" installment. His "Guys! Like, really?" moment (visible at around the 6:35 mark in this clip, which is a stunning and revealing document of just how cruel

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-70720377023180335532011-02-06T21:30:00.012-05:002011-03-10T23:44:35.141-05:00

I felt like a real sham logging into "blogger" just now, because I have not been a blogger. I have been a shirker.However, some things:- I am currently blogging on another site about my attempts to reduce energy usage. Overall, it's a very cool project that also has participants from eight other countries. While you may think that phrases such as "energy diet" and "carbon footprint" are less than

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-22119931571985264522011-02-03T00:14:00.003-05:002011-02-03T00:27:16.858-05:00

Clearing your cache can lead to some unexpected discoveries. Tonight I meant to go to my blog and typed "uncomfor" -- and lo, what do you think comes up in Google's auto-suggest? It isn't UncMo, my friends. It's Uncomfortable Moments With Putin.My hat is off to this site, a compendium of awkward national leadership rivaled only by Kim Jong-Il Looking at Things.The search term "uncmo," fyi, brings

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-89214211836294085052011-01-19T22:59:00.011-05:002011-01-20T10:36:50.483-05:00

How did you first come to understand what death is?I can't remember the answer to this, myself. It probably involved a goldfish. But I can remember experiencing, for the first time, being lied to about death.My grandmother had a golden retriever that I absolutely loved when I was a kid, maybe 5 or 6 years old. Cindy was one of the highlights of my visits. She was furry and let me ride her and was

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-63361194194500359032011-01-12T22:58:00.008-05:002011-01-13T00:26:06.346-05:00

So, I faithfully watch The Bachelor franchise. I do not expect your support for this decision. It is a Personal Life Choice for me.Those of us who watch The Bachelor know, and fully anticipate, that certain ridiculous words and phrases will recur throughout each season. The show knows this, the people on the show know it, and we in the audience wait for it, so that we can wince (or drink)

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-64522088869353056072011-01-09T23:20:00.005-05:002011-01-10T00:48:38.034-05:00

"Hey, you paying in cash, right? I don't take credit cards."That was my first indication that this NYC cabbie was not like the others. Most of them have the credit-swipe machines and the TVs in the back that play light news reports and late-night talk show snippets. This guy had a gray screen and attitude.I winced and got out. But fortunately, UncMo's Favorite Person was standing there seeing me

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-19990987902072852202011-01-04T22:45:00.026-05:002011-01-06T23:30:50.093-05:00

The last time you shopped for a five-year diary, which may have been just last month or perhaps December of 2005, or perhaps never, you probably did so with some trepidation, knowing that five-year diaries -- and well, even the concept of writing anything down on paper -- have become increasingly obsolete.I just filled my sixth five-year diary (yes, friends, that multiplies out to 30 years of

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-3695827600282813702010-12-27T22:08:00.016-05:002011-01-04T22:45:34.857-05:00

How was your holiday? And by holiday, I mean Christmas? I don't know about you, but I'm always a little startled these days when someone who doesn't know me at all wishes me a merry Christmas, or asks how my Christmas was. But at the same time, I kind of like it, because it seems so, well, rebellious. We all know that we are meant to say HOLIDAY as a way of avoiding insensitivity toward other

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-45230635361864665902010-12-10T11:17:00.010-05:002010-12-10T12:16:13.764-05:00

Not sure why it took so long for a news site to cobble together a divorce section, but editors at The Huffington Post have finally done so, and my hat is off to them. The only thing that enthralls people more than a good love story is a good love implosion, which is why it makes perfect sense that, according to Ariana Huffington, many of the divorce section's readers are actually married. So

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-26337565591766527202010-12-08T21:35:00.006-05:002010-12-10T10:56:47.131-05:00

Awhile back, I announced that I was starting a blog about D.C. life called States and Circles. I wanted to write about things that I was wondering about, and for which I rarely get good answers: Where's the best place here to get a massage? Is there a pool nearby I can use? Who has the best bubble tea in Dupont Circle? How, for the love of God, can I escape the cupcake craze? (You know -- all the

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-4425722889804694672010-12-07T11:47:00.013-05:002010-12-07T12:45:38.838-05:00

The tag attached to the over-the-knee socks I bought yesterday reads:"Conveying a sophisticated sense of personal style, Passione is elegant, worldly and yet refreshingly relaxed. As at home with blue jeans and tennis shoes, as a black dress and pumps, Passione begs you to leave behind the 'I can't' mind set of the past, to live like never before. Open your heart to a love affair of possibility

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-87592540286427210482010-12-07T09:42:00.004-05:002010-12-07T09:54:42.548-05:00

From the guest book at the American Art Museum in D.C. My other favorite is just above it: "Post-apocalyptic, yet accessible for children."

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-81436727740301189642010-12-02T15:40:00.026-05:002010-12-12T15:28:03.988-05:00

The flat-screen TV on the wall at Washington Radiology Associates is playing, of all things, back-to-back episodes of The Cosby Show. This, to me, is an unexpected and inspired programming decision on the part of WRA: Who, after all, could object to The Cosby Show? Everybody likes The Cosby Show, or they did, until the kids weren't cute anymore and the show got a little too smug for its own

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-25514914111400013982010-11-30T23:14:00.000-05:002010-12-01T00:02:51.272-05:00

At one of my previous workplaces, I used to sit at a station with three other people. We all sat with our monitors facing one center, so we could see and hear each other at all times. This was both maddening and endearing. You get to know a person's mannerisms very well when you're exposed to them day in and day out. My coworkers could all be boiled down to one favorite utterance, so that if you

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-9803246205304448842010-11-24T13:18:00.017-05:002010-11-24T15:58:21.099-05:00

I'm doing more transcribing these days than actual writing, thanks to my ongoing efforts to whittle down the trove of papers sitting at my parents' house, to which I have confined my hoarding habits. I saved birthday cards, doodles, passed notes, Santa lists and anything else that was ever was written down in the history of my life, apparently. The following is an exchange I had with my friend

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-59433057907834650952010-11-23T22:43:00.001-05:002010-11-23T23:02:17.157-05:00

I recently found what must be the most low self-esteem letter to Santa ever written. I can't be sure of the date on this, but I must have been around 8 or 9 years old. The unbelievable fact that I was still entertaining the concept of Santa at this age is recounted (and yet not adequately explained) here.Dear Santa,Again this year I think I have failed to behave. I am very enthusiastic about

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-30744371653729219852010-11-17T00:39:00.005-05:002010-11-23T22:47:11.554-05:00

Spell check says I have a misspelling in my headline here. That's because unfriend is more recent and bizarre as an English word than we think. Can it really be so new? Doesn't it seem like it's been around forever? Doesn't it seem as if you've had extraneous friends -- lingering at the fringes of your subconscious, cluttering your chi, and generally weighing you down -- for ages now?All those

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-89411351748231955902010-11-08T22:01:00.005-05:002010-11-09T09:06:23.641-05:00

Six Feet Under on DVD tonight tipped me to the fact that Bonnie Raitt covered "Burning Down the House."Now, I love Bonnie Raitt. And the choice of this cover, which is a "Something to Talk About" sort of deal imposed on a multigenerational party scene, makes sense. But it only served to remind me that you do not fuck with the original.I was not really into New Wave or whatever you would have

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-44245969790917000432010-11-07T11:33:00.015-05:002010-11-07T13:43:35.444-05:00

At age 13, I went on a cruise with my family to Bermuda and met another girl on the cruise. We hung out for one completely unremarkable day. But after that, we wrote each other letters for more than two years.Not so long ago, I'd tried to look up my old pen pal, to see what she was up to. I could never find any results for her name, which seemed odd. Had she disappeared? I remembered that she'd

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-10762698917154806252010-11-02T16:55:00.013-05:002010-11-03T19:39:00.957-05:00

grumpy adj \ˈgrəm-pē\: moodily cross : surly I know someone who admits he is a grumpy person. However, he is quick to point out that he's not an angry person. "Angry and grumpy are different," he maintains. I think this is true. An angry person will let life eat away at him from the inside, will let the anger permeate his entire being. Anger is a river, ebbing and flowing but ever-present. Grumps

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-66850593028197525482010-10-20T09:05:00.017-05:002010-11-06T22:40:49.684-05:00

The evening lines at the P Street Whole Foods never stop, even when it's 9 or 9:30 p.m. Despite the recent installation of a long row of compact express registers, the store is unable to keep up with the hordes of yuppies, bougies and everyone else (ouppies? older uncompromising professionals?) who have no place else to go for their organic produce, coco water and gourmet prepared food.It's fine.

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-12913613425827214742010-10-18T22:46:00.003-05:002010-10-20T09:58:19.804-05:00

I know what you're thinking.Whoa, Christina, how did you manage to back your car into that mailbox? I mean, weren't you looking behind you when you backed up?But I managed to pull this one off without even being in the car.Top that, UncMo readers and drivers of the world!There was an ever-so-slight creaking sound when I got out of the car after parking it on my parents' short, steep driveway on a

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-57757973398811856422010-10-14T19:52:00.015-05:002010-10-18T22:13:42.383-05:00

When I'm in New York, I like to stop by Le Pain Quotidien and get their parfait of fruit, yogurt and granola for breakfast. Making myself ill on a fruit parfait is sort of a New York tradition for me, like strolling in Central Park or buying dusty things at establishments that put the "front" in storefront.Le Pain Quotidien's parfait is either $5.71 or nearly $8.00. The cashier decides for you.

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-29076426817849708572010-10-13T21:08:00.005-05:002010-10-14T21:15:12.009-05:00

1. A Sport and a Pastime, James Salter. A Yale dropout has a a love affair with a French girl, played out in French towns you've never heard of and imagined by a somewhat strange and definitely dirty narrator. The occasionally excessive prose is balanced by devastatingly real moments, sure dialogue and a saturating atmosphere. Sample passage: "There are terrible moments in which one sees love

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-60608250928803567102010-10-11T23:20:00.007-05:002010-10-14T21:15:36.890-05:00

Every once in awhile, a cabbie will shock me by actually getting out of the car immediately at the outset and ferrying my bag to the trunk, instead of a) popping the trunk so that I can hoist in my own luggage, but only after being asked a minimum of two times to open said trunk or b) watching me struggle to lug my bag into the backseat because it has taken too long for him to figure out that

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-21771664401405403262010-09-29T21:22:00.006-05:002010-10-20T09:58:53.231-05:00

"When I wrote Kitchen Confidential my business model was, 'I Don’t Give a Shit,' and I'm trying very hard to keep that as my operating business model. I never, ever think, what will they like, what do they expect, what should I do next. The business model is to not be full of shit. That's about as much as I can hope for from myself, and to write something that’s entertaining to me and presumably

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-48712967715581030702010-09-28T20:30:00.014-05:002010-10-03T00:02:56.678-05:00

I can't walk into a copy shop without thinking about this classic sketch from the Chappelle Show. Not fair, perhaps, but copy shops are like the DMV, the post office, economy flights and HMOs: You go in braced for the absolute worst.It was very quiet at the FedEx Print & Ship tonight -- like the calm before a storm. One placid-looking guy was waiting behind a confused old lady at the register.

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-40034403195402392342010-09-22T16:35:00.002-05:002010-09-22T16:39:33.048-05:00

Here's a draft of my speech from my run for treasurer in elementary school. I did not win. Pretty clear signs here that I was no Obama.Hello. As you know, I am Christina Nunez and running for treasurer. Though I have had no previous experience in this job, I think I could do it, because I am an honest, good student who can take the responsibility of handling money. I am scarcely late or absent,

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-60887906586288378812010-09-11T23:23:00.016-05:002010-11-07T11:31:06.675-05:00

Normally Saturday mornings are reserved for catching up with magazines and my couch, so it's not as if I would have turned on the TV anyway, but I really wasn't going to turn it on this weekend. Still, Sept. 11 found me. I picked up my New Yorker and there was the profile of Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, conveying all his vainglorious, devastating awfulness. Outside, there was the blue, newly cool sky,

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-59777020359887254122010-09-06T12:43:00.000-05:002010-12-02T12:44:52.279-05:00

I've been pretty sour about the whole cupcake trend in D.C., because a) I'm inclined to disdain anything that's been relentlessly hyped and b) I honestly just don't really care that much about cupcakes. But everywhere you go, and everywhere you click, it's cupcakes. Cupcake sales! Cupcake signs! Cupcake stories! Cupcake tweets! Cupcake shops! Hello Cupcake! Red Velvet Cupcake! And the mother of

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-7940587285151887702010-09-04T17:59:00.007-05:002010-09-04T18:22:19.649-05:00

I usually confine posts to my own uncomfortable moments, but this one from Arizona Gov. Jan Brewer is so transcendent that it has become the first inductee into my just-founded UncMo Hall of Fame.As a Democrat, I should be happy to see a Republican eat it this badly on camera, but the moment is so painful to watch that I feel sorry for her. I couldn't even watch it again for the sake of writing

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-62437774025521877782010-08-29T21:10:00.008-05:002010-08-30T12:08:20.317-05:00

The Whole Foods on P Street has a nice little outdoor cafe area, where you can take your very valuable healthy salad and sit for a spell. It was sunny today and a bit warm, but the tables were in shade and almost full with people relaxing and eating.The vibe was pierced by a voice near the store's exit. "EXCUSE ME! EXCUSE ME!" A woman was calling after someone leaving the store at the same time

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-91830864510118552642010-08-26T13:15:00.009-05:002010-08-26T18:29:34.109-05:00

You Just Unlocked the Badge for My HeartThere's No App for Fightin'My Inbox Is a Ghost Town (Since You Left)Text Me When You're SoberGo Check In (With Someone Who Gives a Damn)Tears on My ProfileLord, I Was Born to GoogleYour Tweetin' HeartService Outage BluesFacebook Ain't Big Enough for Both of UsCan't Help It (If I'm Still on MySpace)Any other ideas?Music: "High-Tech Redneck"

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-8086065779048978372010-08-25T12:48:00.000-05:002010-12-02T12:49:23.199-05:00

It's very easy to miss Body Co., which is marked only by an unimpressive sandwich-board sign outside an equally unimpressive office-building door on Connecticut Avenue, just south of Dupont Circle. I walked right by it -- and I had an appointment there. I'd discovered Body Co. on Yelp while looking for discount massages. I'm very snobby about my massage environments, and I feel that bodywork is

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-21951398613407722822010-08-17T17:54:00.005-05:002010-08-17T18:08:56.692-05:00

What I like about New York -- at least, today -- is that you can have the most discouraging day, full of letdowns and fatigue, noise, crowds, frustrations; and have it all turn around in the course of an afternoon. You lose a subway token, arrive late to a job interview, stammer your way through it, get lost (for a second time) on the subway, can't find an affordable sofa, and arrive back at the

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-53247200713842319512010-08-16T22:20:00.008-05:002010-08-17T11:01:56.441-05:00

"I'm sorry, but I still say they never would have dared to do this directly after Sept. 11."I usually get ignored when I make this comment during the opening credits of Mad Men, probably because the observation is a plain one. Still, I don't watch Mad Men regularly enough to get over how offensive and impossible this sequence would have been after the unimaginable events of 2001. And when I type

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-48263708050390010492010-08-07T23:01:00.007-05:002010-08-17T18:08:17.100-05:00

I have never smoked. Not once. Not a cigarette, not a joint, not a hookah.Unless you count Victory and Round Up cigarettes. I've had a few packs of those.The FDA is apparently banning candy cigarettes, which is an entirely sensible decision. Children should not be offered My First Tobacco products, priming them to take up the habit for real later. Can you imagine if it were possible to buy

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-5567837751012102182010-08-05T21:57:00.011-05:002010-08-06T14:48:17.852-05:00

So, a former colleague of mine at NPR (among others) has been tweeting about Antoine Dodson for a couple of days. And now NPR has a story that sums up the whole thing pretty well.I initially thought my friend's tweets were just about a silly rap song, because she kept talking about it getting stuck in her head. So I ignored it, because I get enough silly rap songs in my head and I thought the

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-2357921780702349522010-07-28T14:10:00.005-05:002010-07-28T15:28:52.249-05:00

Me: I just passed [coworker A] and [coworker B]Me: [coworker A] did a double take and said," Are you going somewhere today?"Me: I said no, why?Me: He said, you look all dressed upMe: [coworker B] had complimented me on my dress earlierMe: not sure how to take thatHim: wellHim: you look beautifulMe: it means either I look too dressy todayHim: so yaMe: or I look like shit most daysMe: awHim:

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-90667217841154955882010-07-26T22:32:00.014-05:002010-07-27T13:33:55.442-05:00

It was 6:30 p.m. at Penn Station and I was standing with a group of people looking at the train departures screen, waiting for my train's boarding gate to come up. I'd been staked out here on the lower floor for half an hour now, and my Amtrak Northeast Regional train to D.C. was late -- later than the screen implied. Most of the other Amtrak passengers were upstairs with the big flip-letter

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-90098683948744619682010-07-20T12:53:00.000-05:002010-12-02T12:53:40.137-05:00

OK, that headline isn't quite right, but the pun was hard to resist. If I could, though, I would have a bubble tea party every day. Until that moment in my life comes, I am content to visit two primary bubble tea suppliers in the Dupont Circle area: Teaism and newcomer Du Froyo.Bubble tea was invented in Taiwan, apparently, but I've encountered it more in Vietnamese-owned settings such as Out the

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-64085852331768018352010-07-11T21:41:00.004-05:002010-07-11T22:01:09.944-05:00

This morning I went to the Whole Foods, which is one of my favorite places and I do not apologize for that.I went in search of breakfast fruit, preferably some raspberries to have with whole milk. The first thing I saw when I walked in the door to the P St. store, though, was fresh organic mission figs from California, on sale for $2.99 a box.Involuntarily, I dropped my sunglasses and said "Oooh!

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-42621983991218726582010-07-11T21:00:00.001-05:002010-12-08T21:05:24.841-05:00

It was a beautiful June Wednesday, and I'd taken the day off from work. I wanted to go lounge outside somewhere. But where? Public parks are too... public. And sidewalk cafes are too upright. I needed a pool.Washington has several hotel pools, though many of them are for guests only. After making several calls, I decided to check out the pool at the Hilton Embassy Row, which is just north of

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-7851370205995464092010-07-11T13:31:00.005-05:002010-07-11T19:34:40.027-05:00

I have started a new baby blog about Washington and my first post is about hotel pools you can break into (for a fee -- or, if you're adventurous, not). If you live in D.C., this may be of interest to you.The thing is pretty spare right now, but I hope to fill it up soon with lots of links and posts containing (ideally) useful information for D.C. locals. Please visit and comment if you are in

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-62035634511855596102010-07-11T12:55:00.000-05:002010-12-02T12:56:15.578-05:00

If you've been to a Chuck Close exhibit, you might think you can skip this one -- you've already seen his arresting, giant portraits, mostly of himself, astonishingly rendered in pointillistic cubes that individually give away nothing of how they create such a lifelike image in the aggregate.Don't skip this one.The Corcoran lets you in on Close's media and methods, deconstructing the process. But

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-29344148943884159912010-07-08T14:57:00.012-05:002010-07-09T07:21:51.759-05:00

The girl, who looked to be about 7 years old, was standing with her mother in the locker room at the gym. Tears were streaming down her face, and she was mumbling something unintelligible. I could only hear her mother's response. "Okay, but I'm just warning you, Daddy isn't going to be nice about it."I passed them by and proceeded to get my stuff. Sobbing, yelling and whining are par for the

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-19791121342529871552010-06-23T21:07:00.000-05:002010-12-08T21:08:02.635-05:00

For the last 10 years, I've had to make the case for D.C. to both myself and to people I love. This site is not about making a case for D.C., though. It's about those of us who know we want to be here.Right now I'm on my second attempt at putting down roots in Washington. Both times living here, I've ended up in relationships where the other person wanted to be living somewhere else. I'll admit

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-88707378945950398762010-06-23T07:09:00.004-05:002010-06-23T15:32:42.119-05:00

According to one of the newsletters in my inbox, today is Let It Go Day. It's also National Pecan Sandy Day, but let's focus on the former. One description I found says: Free yourself from all negative thoughts and worries. Its time to let them go and allow the positive into your life in order to heal yourself.That's kind of a tall order. I mean, there's a lot I need to let go, and one day isn't

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-86068418329288086422010-06-18T12:27:00.012-05:002010-06-18T15:48:20.401-05:00

I'm having a little trouble letting things go today, so I'm going to write about this here and hope this post helps me let it go, like a little red balloon of rage, floating slowly away in the sky.One of the sites I work with posted a story about smart phones. I am going to write a headline promoting this story. My employer generally follows (pretends to follow, actually) AP Style. AP Style for

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-90287262043725864492010-06-17T21:36:00.007-05:002010-06-17T22:43:29.420-05:00

Lately I've become obsessed with looking for domain names for businesses that I may or may not ever start. The exact nature of these searches is confidential, but I can tell you that slacktionary.com is available. This is what happens when you read an article about some 9-year-old kid who is making money on the Intertubes selling pencil tops, of all things. Pencil tops! Well if she can sell

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-42120716659041565302010-06-08T12:50:00.043-05:002010-06-08T23:33:19.899-05:00

Recently, I came across a Craigslist ad "seeking writers for a series of web- based healthcare question and answer sets (Q&As)."For each question, the company needed a long and short answer, plus 5-10 keywords. The pay for this work would be $5 per question and answer set.$5 per question? Hardly seems worth the work, does it? But the ad helpfully pointed out that after churning out enough of

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-40141375526642871592010-06-02T12:42:00.003-05:002010-06-02T12:54:44.728-05:00

Humans achieve their peak in different ways. But whoever you are, once you're over the summit, it's downhill all the way. Nothing anyone can do about it. And the worst of it is, you never know where that peak is. You think you're still going strong, when suddenly you've crossed the great divide. No one can tell. Some people peak at twelve, then lead rather uneventful lives from then on. Some

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-217199743285645102010-05-26T14:29:00.005-05:002010-05-27T12:58:29.680-05:00

I love this sign at work because it exemplifies the optimism and enterprising spirit of America. It shows there are people out there who see a bagel toaster and say, "Toast a bagel? Well then why not a goddamned donut? They make them hot at KrispyKreme, why can't I have my own hot donut dream right here and right now? And as a matter of fact, who wouldn't love a muffin top even more when it's

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-38988954667721212592010-05-23T16:10:00.002-05:002010-05-23T16:17:00.828-05:00

[She] was curious about my work. So I told her about my interviews with would-be starlets, about my piece on restaurants in Hakodate."Sounds like fun," she said, brightening up."'Fun' is not the word. The writing itself is no big thing. I mean I like writing. It's even relaxing for me. But the content is a real zero. Pointless in fact.""What do you mean?""I mean, for instance, you do the rounds

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-11770787821181527852010-05-05T21:09:00.011-05:002010-05-05T22:54:54.328-05:00

Hi. Are you still there? Sorry, I had to take that call. Did you get that e-mail? I sent it to you awhile ago, but maybe it didn't go through.I texted you. Did you get my text?Did you see M _____'s status update on Facebook? I can tell you about it if you failed to adequately scrutinize your news feed.Are you on Twitter? I'm not on Twitter. But did you see what A____ tweeted? It was funny. But

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-47391446670143434182010-04-26T22:36:00.002-05:002010-04-26T23:13:10.273-05:00

This past weekend I was making my way up the stairs of an Upper East Side walk-up in New York. From the minute one entered the front door of the building, sound flooded the hall. At the top of the second flight, it became clear that someone was listening, at top volume on a very good sound system, to "Sacrifice" by Elton John.And they were getting STONED doing it. In the middle of the day.I don't

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-40366888384992105482010-04-21T13:17:00.003-05:002010-04-21T13:35:25.756-05:00

Lately I've noticed that, especially in the workplace, people now say "learnings" when they want to talk about someone else screwing up. Usually, it occurs in meetings and post-mortems where the intent is to say, "Someone has really f***ed up here, and I'm going to let you all know that I know someone f***ed up, but will also try to be positive by focusing on how we can do better in the future."

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-56008125773045627792010-04-02T22:35:00.007-05:002010-04-08T22:15:26.895-05:00

Moving on from the obvious point of contention in the previous post, here's another one. A piece of copy at work labeling Lando Calrissian as a villain recently incited some debate among my coworkers. "Lando Calrissian was not a villain!""Yes he was, he betrayed Han Solo.""Yes, but he made up for it in the end.""He was a Judas!"And so on. What do you think? Personally, I'm on the fence because

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-57418842171883836222010-04-02T21:43:00.015-05:002010-04-02T23:41:56.937-05:00

1. The Burberry GameIf you live in New York or Washington, or perhaps other cities in the United States, it's likely you witness (and perhaps wear) a profusion of Burberry items daily. In certain areas, the frequency of Burberry scarves approaches comic proportions, and no one ever seems concerned about the fact that everyone is wearing the exact same scarf. This led me to the idea of having a

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-68174191799378339412010-03-14T11:33:00.006-05:002010-03-15T19:31:45.811-05:00

A new and inscrutable (for me) piece of communication arrived from my apartment building's office a few weeks ago. Though a building newsletter mysteriously came and went last year, there still seems to be no shortage of news to relay, including that of semi-regular contests wherein the participants have a chance to win money off the rent.I'm all for money off my rent, but the contest terms

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-65707504497319936982010-03-04T15:40:00.051-05:002010-03-04T21:52:21.044-05:00

Do you ever look at your [insert personal possession here] and think, "I know this thing looks bad, but I just can't deal"? You realize it degrades your image, if you will, but it's functional, and for whatever reason you keep using it, even though doing so means risking public embarrassment and/or internal deflation each time. If you really had it together, you'd go out and get something new or

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-21267703061155354232010-02-10T21:06:00.022-05:002010-02-12T22:35:21.264-05:00

Not sure if you've heard much about it, but it's been snowing a lot in D.C. lately. In December we had Snowpocalypse, just last week we had Snowmageddon, and right now we are having Snowverkill or Snowverit. These are the accepted media monikers for the storms, I think, though I would prefer to lump them all together under Snowpocalypse, or perhaps SNOMG or Snowgasm, the latter two terms I saw

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-29769462637536480482010-01-26T17:20:00.046-05:002010-01-27T12:19:39.341-05:00

I'd never registered at an emergency room before Sunday night. Then again, I'd never had a leg clot, an immobilizing back injury, two consecutive tooth mishaps, or fibroid surgery before turning my current age last June. It just happens to be a half-year of new horizons for me.The first thing I noticed at this particular D.C. emergency room lobby was that it possessed no atmosphere of emergency

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-63335961200046020802010-01-20T17:28:00.009-05:002010-01-21T00:33:59.612-05:00

At work today, this story came up and we discussed replicating the language of its headline on our site.I didn't really get why HuffPo wrote "Funniest Parking Fails" instead of "Funniest Parking Failures," but didn't spend too much time thinking about it. I figured it was either a quirk of their presentation or a writer with really bad grammar (assumed the former). Someone else wanted to use fail

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-40464442145412440852010-01-06T23:02:00.005-05:002010-01-06T23:33:07.014-05:00

Then he texts, "fa sho." How do I respond to that? -- Teen girl talking to fellow teen girl at the gymThat was not an accident. You did that on circus. -- Toddler to her mother in TargetI wanted to round this out with a third instance, but once you're looking for good soundbites, you won't hear them, even if you happen to be visiting the Motor Vehicle Administration and you're No. 139 and they're

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-35369078713469197532010-01-05T23:19:00.005-05:002010-01-05T23:36:05.537-05:00

I'm too young to be catching up with a high-school classmate via his obituary. Adam Cohen was too young to be that obituary.I didn't know Adam very well and don't have any specific anecdote about him as my classmate in humanities and in Spanish at Winston Churchill High School. I do have a very vivid image in my mind of him in the classroom, and the image is of him smiling. He was always smiling

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-65036046358249566332009-12-24T21:46:00.005-05:002009-12-25T00:03:28.347-05:00

How are you doing this holiday season?I wasn't supposed to be alone tonight. Also, my sister wasn't supposed to be recovering from an emergency appendectomy that, it turns out, she may not have needed. Amazon wasn't supposed to forget to send my nephew's gift and give me a refund instead of Club Penguin for Nintendo. And my car wasn't supposed to be trapped a week past the big blizzard of '09,

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-46695120815502357032009-12-17T22:12:00.012-05:002009-12-17T23:12:49.538-05:00

Happy Birthday, America!Build Your Body Knowledge: Lymph NodesZero-Dollar Vacations ("Take one day or a whole week to do absolutely nothing. Put on your favorite music and close your eyes. Don't clean, pay bills, go shopping, wash laundry or cook gourmet meals. Just truly relax." Presumably the authors would prefer that you take this vacation from paying bills in the first three weeks of the

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-4410341398792057992009-12-15T00:15:00.011-05:002010-11-09T09:06:39.991-05:00

The first time I heard this song was on a Chris Rock concert video. The next time was on a Katt Williams video. So those two comedians had already drilled it into my head and my iPod already by the time it served as exposition in The Carter. The documentary about Lil' Wayne uses the song to punctuate his substance abuse, flashing its opening callout about "weed n' syrup 'till I die" over footage

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-59595200346694001752009-12-10T22:54:00.035-05:002009-12-15T19:23:34.155-05:00

I can't seem to interest anyone I know in this show, even though it's brilliant. When I bring it up, the responses range from some variation on "Sounds boring" to "I don't want to watch a show about people blathering about their problems." This latter response always confuses me, because aren't most non-comedic TV shows about other people's problems?I haven't watched season 2 of In Treatment yet.

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-9899857414930089442009-11-16T11:45:00.004-05:002009-11-23T22:59:37.211-05:00

So, I'm at work printing out a travel reservation for this week. I walk over to the printer and my reservation didn't make it, but I see that I have another print job -- sitting alone on the counter next to the printer -- that someone set aside for me. All of our print jobs come out with cover sheets featuring our name in big type. But the one I found this morning wasn't my travel confirmation.

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-14586959581996438122009-11-09T21:05:00.014-05:002009-11-23T22:54:54.473-05:00

I was enjoying a nice, quiet evening checking out Diary of a Mad Black Woman on BET when this nonsense came upon my screen.Let me just start by saying that I hate "real women" advertising. If I wanted to look like a "real woman," I wouldn't be interested in your product. I know it's not politically correct to say, but I prefer fashion models (or at least I do when they are allowed to still look

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-55236216988250343132009-11-04T23:38:00.004-05:002009-11-23T23:10:57.549-05:00

People can act one way to your face and another behind your back.Your body knows better than your mind does.It's never worth clicking on pictures of Lady Gaga.You will never be glad you stayed up watching Intervention instead of going to bed.Tortilla chips. God help me. Tortilla chips.Your job does not define your self-worth.Magazines are less fulfilling than books.If the meat seems undercooked,

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-22419011927013404452009-10-17T21:02:00.012-05:002009-10-19T22:37:04.452-05:00

How do you feel about Halloween?More than any other "holiday" (and I put the word in quotation marks because unless I get the day off work, it isn't a true holiday anymore, unlike when I was a kid and "holiday" could be defined as any day with special decorations and candy), Halloween transforms into something else altogether when you're an adult. When you're a kid, even if you hate scary stuff,

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-11210174222948101692009-10-15T11:44:00.003-05:002009-10-15T12:13:38.600-05:00

Sometimes the topics of debate that take place during my work day blow my mind. Here are some examples, just from today. *Is the word "panties" objectionable?Do people care about Amber Rose?Are most people aware that their gas contains ethanol?If it's a cardigan with a hood, can you call it a "hoodie"?Do people remember that Ben Affleck played Jack Ryan?Who is more interesting from The Real World

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-48259565854542226682009-10-08T22:26:00.013-05:002011-03-16T21:19:56.346-05:00

First of all, if you still even look at this URL, thank you. I apologize for not delivering much lately. That's a whole separate UncMo.A side benefit of needing to have bloodwork done at the Quest Diagnostics lab on Connecticut Avenue in Washington is that you will leave feeling better about your life than you did when you walked in, especially after being exposed to the staff there. You may not

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-90576343747116915422009-09-27T21:04:00.005-05:002009-09-28T08:34:25.192-05:00

I happened on an awesome bookstore this weekend in New York and ended up buying this book.I went from hating Curious Lists to loving it in about two minutes. The book is basically a bunch of list titles followed by dotted lines so that you can fill them out. My first reaction: "What? You have to complete them yourself? This is stupid. 'Ukelele Songs Appropriate for a Funeral?' How

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-41559154886490320882009-08-26T21:22:00.003-05:002009-08-26T22:01:15.290-05:00

All I can ever be to youIs the darkness that we knewAnd this regret I got accustomed to -- Amy WinehouseI was at the gym today, feeling pretty low about my day and myself, when this song came on. It hit me: Hey, now there's a person who knows feeling crummy. At least I'm not Amy Winehouse.I started to feel better already, moseying to the steam room and contemplating all the ways I am not like Amy

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-61596332692405094382009-08-23T15:09:00.000-05:002010-08-25T20:20:51.353-05:00

How much professional disdain can you accommodate before it overflows and poisons the personal, and vice versa?How hard do you try to comprehend a person's motives before you simply write off the individual as a bunghole, even though surely s/he has loved ones who could ably rebut this conclusion, excuse my pun, and might even say that you are the one who is the bunghole? Is it healthier to try

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-59981039525939190712009-08-16T19:10:00.004-05:002009-12-15T20:33:42.136-05:00

Dispute 1The Usage: The use of "troop" as a singular to describe a soldier. The Correction: An editor let me know that he changed my headline because I referred to a single soldier as a troop. I was confused: Hadn't I seen this all over the place? I searched around. Well.... sort of. CNN, for example, had a headline that referred to "50 troops wounded." So wouldn't that mean troop is being

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-1824934191623800072009-08-12T19:55:00.008-05:002009-08-13T08:15:43.684-05:00

This Uncomfortable Moment began at 1:48 p.m. EST today. I have uncontrollably relived it in the hours since, and will continue to do so. I submit it here for a) your enjoyment and b) my expiation.On my team at work, a lot of links to stories get sent around as pitches for things we might want to feature. Today someone sent around a link to a story about a company that offers "birthday boot camps"

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-40451123184069782732009-08-06T00:51:00.002-05:002009-08-06T01:17:09.226-05:00

Every morning I drive to a corporate campus in Virginia and am struck by how many vanity license plates I see in the parking garage on my walk into the office. Is it Virginia, or my company?It takes a certain amount of wherewithal to get a vanity plate. I don't know about you, but every time I'm at the DMV, I'm just trying to get shit done. I haven't thought about what my license plate is going

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-37958324141042151002009-08-04T18:23:00.000-05:002010-08-25T20:22:17.309-05:00

"The way you get to know yourself is by the expressions on other people's faces, because that's the only thing that you can see, unless you carry a mirror about. But if you keep saying 'I' and they're saying 'I,' you don't get much out of it. They're not really into you, or we, or they; they're into I. That makes conversation slow."- Gil Scott-HeronI can hardly bear to look at the group when I

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15120270.post-90835863405073945812009-07-28T22:28:00.013-05:002009-07-29T10:00:46.764-05:00

Here at UncMo, we like to come up with new blogovations as much as we like to come up with thought-provoking, well-written posts, which is why this is only the second new recurring feature we've introduced in nearly four years, unless you count referring to oneself in the first-person plural.Recently I was joking with someone that he should start a blog dedicated to his disagreements with another

Christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15045035862531946198noreply@blogger.com6