Flying Dogs
My pets are like my babies. I always feel guilty any time I go anywhere and I make it a point to take them whenever possible. I know that it isn't always reasonable, but I can't help but worry about them when I'm away.

The worst is when you have to leave them alone when you go out of town. You either have to find someone to watch them or board them in a kennel. I will not board them in a kennel. I think that they are already stressed enough by being left alone and taking them away from familiar surroundings is just cruel.

What really bothers me is that airlines don't make it easier to travel with pets. Particularly small dogs. They should be allowed on the plane as they are no more of a nuisance that the guy that snores as he is drooling on your shoulder. Actually I would much rather fly with a dog than a snoring and drooling stranger. I would even be willing to buy a ticket for my pet and pay full price, but you can't. I know that most airlines allow you to take a small dog or cat in the cabin, but there can be only one small dog on that flight and they have to lay there cramped under the seat in front of you and you are not allowed to take them out! Why? I think that it is totally fair that your dog be restrained, but come on, isn't that cruelty towards animals to force them to lay cramped under your seat. It is only slightly less cruel than making them travel as cargo. Where is PETA when you need them?

Not only are the airlines being cruel to our pets, they are being cruel to us by discriminating. When you think of all of the annoying people on an airplane, the kid that kicks your seat, the aforementioned drooling snorer, crying babies, loud teenagers, women with too much perfume, and the many, many others, why can't my little dog, who would only sleep (with the possibility of drooling) travel like the rest of us. It is a travesty, a sham, and a mockery. It is a traveshamocery.

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P.S. They could at least offer a doggie passport that shows that your pet is fly-ready and does not have problems in the air.

Free Martha
Update: Things with Lump have not gotten any better. I'm about to saw my own arm off just so I have an excuse to not be here anymore. Oh the agony. Let's not let Lump ruin our day though...

And now... Martha

I'm having house guests very soon. They are actually going to stay for quite some time, so I am both excited and anxious. I am more excited than anything else though. I can't wait for them to get here.

Getting ready for house guests isn't quite as fun as actually having them. I still have to get everything in house guest condition, and because of the fact that I aspire to be like Martha Stewart (as a homemaker/hostess, not as an inside trader... if she even did it...which I doubt... FREE MARTHA!). Anyway, being a host like Martha isn't nearly as easy as she makes it look on TV or in her magazines and books. I always sense that whatever it is that I am doing, Martha could be doing a better job. Actually, I don't just sense it, I know it. Martha is a better hostess than I could ever aspire to be.

I do, however, aspire to be a pretty awesome hostess. I make sure that my guests have everything they could possibly want from toiletries to fresh towels, but above everything else, the presentation is the most important part. I know, I'm a dork, but I can't remember the last time I made a meal that didn't include some kind of garnish. Parsley is extremely underrated. Anyway, my obsession with accruing good skills as a hostess means that not only do I have to wash towels, but I have to arrange them in a way in which is pleasing to the eye (can you imagine what I'm like when I get into a decorating kick?). Depending on who the house guest is, this could mean anything from creative folding to stacking a bath towel, a hand towel, and a wash towel on top of each other and tying a ribbon around them (like I said, I'm a dork).

The guests that I have coming are some of my favorite house guests to have, so I am putting extra pressure on myself to make sure that everything is perfect. I'm even shampooing my carpets. Even though my house doesn't look like it does now the majority of the year, when people come over, I make sure it looks like a Stepford wife lives there. I'm even making a special cake for one of my guests. It is a cake that I have never attempted before and it has a tricky frosting. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it will turn out because I don't have time for a trial run. If not I'm going to have to haul my little behind down to the local bakery and try to pass it off as my own (you know you've done it).

Ciao!

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Lump

I almost didn't go to work today. Not because I'm sick, but out of protest for the way I've been treated. I wish I could get into more details, but there is no way at the moment. I will tell you the little bit that I can. I can't stand someone that I'm working with (this person is in charge of the whole project and for the sake of story telling they will from here on out be referred to as "Lump"). Sometimes my situation with Lump is okay, and I think we're getting along, but then Lump turns into the most hoity toity ass hole! Lump wines, sulks and complains incessantly. Nothing is ever up to Lump's standards, ever. Then there is the fact that Lump has to have everything spelled out, and slowly, over and over again before anything is understood. Then you find out later that Lump never really understood, so it's really your fault that Lump messed everything up.

My history with Lump has constantly been up and down. Sometimes I would really like Lump and think that they were a great person, but then Lump would turn into a belligerent drunk and I wouldn't want anything to do with them (No, Lump is not someone that I have ever dated or would ever date under any circumstance, so you can stop making assumptions). Lump can turn from quiet and agreeable to cold and callous in a matter of seconds.

Unfortunately because of my personal connections, Lump is a much larger part of my life than I would like at the moment. Not only do I have to see Lump at work, but also away from work at social engagements (maybe you will eventually understand why I the days that I enjoy the most are the days that I can be at home away from people in general). I am all Lumped out. To make matters worth, with some things that are coming up, I may be forced to see a whole lot more of Lump and Lump's significant other (which is a whole other story).

I fought going to work today, but the person closest to me made me go. They said that I should be tough and be the bigger person. I refused, and it wasn't until I discovered that I would only have to be in actual contact with Lump for a miniscule amount of time that I finally decided to come. I still wonder if it is the right choice. I guess I won't know until the end of the day. So far, so good (except for the headache).

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Read 'em and weep!
Why is poker so addicting? It is especially addicting when you're playing Texas Hold `em. I have always been a big card player and I've been playing for money since I was very young (read: three). I love sitting around talking and just having a good time with friends or family. It can also be fun with strangers or by yourself on a computer.

Anyway, Texas Hold `Em is my new obsession. I know several guys that get together for a regular game usually with either a $10 or $20 buy in. It's a lot of fun to play with them, and it is also fun to watch. I enjoy looking for their "tells." You would be surprised how easy it is to figure out how good someone's hand is. I also enjoy observing the way in which they bet. The best players change their betting ways all the time so that you can never be sure how good or bad their hand may be.

An interesting discovery I have recently made is that since poker tournaments have become popular on TV and so many people playing in these tournaments wear sunglasses, the people I play with have started wearing sunglasses too. This is fine for me, but they might want to consider holding their cards differently because it isn't hard to read cards through someone's glasses (something I learned one night while playing cards with my grandparents).

I have never been a big Vegas-style gambler (I have been to Vegas and I have gambled there) but I love gambling at home or at someone else's home. Long live poker night!

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P.S. Long live Bartles and James too! Poker night just wouldn't be the same without them. That's right, I said Bartles and James.

Cinephile
I am, for all intents and purposes, what one might call a cinephile. I love movies. I'm not obsessed, mind you; I'm intrigued, inspired and often just entertained by them. I'm not a particularly picky person when choosing my films, as many of my close relations can attest. Sometimes I want a serious drama while other times fart jokes will suffice.

I have a couple of movie buddies who make it fun to watch just about any movie. When I say, "just about," it is only because I have seen some terrible movies. We tease each other because we can almost always find some redeeming quality in even the most mundane movies. At first we laughed that we were movie critics, but we later decided that we didn't have the heart to be critics. I don't like saying bad things about people in print (that's not to say that I won't ever, or haven't ever done it... I just don't like to). I can't imagine making a living doing it.

Anyway, I met a few people a couple of years ago and they introduced me to some movies that I would have never even thought to see. A lot of old films and foreign films and some films that were both old and foreign. I became interested in seeing remakes of old movies and the original films that the movies were based on. You would be surprised at how many great movies are out there, even if it is purely for their novelty. There is a Romanian movie, which I remember very little about other than the fact that it had a Pig eating this car that is called the Trabant. A pig eating a car sounds astonishing until you realize that the Trabant, an Eastern European car (I think it's Czech, but don't be mad if I'm wrong) has only two cylinders and is basically made out of a form of paper mache. I kid you not.

You are probably scratching your head wondering when this is going to get to a point. I'm sorry to say that it is not. I felt compelled, for some reason, to share the fact that I like movies.

Anyway, enough for now.

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Good times, bad films.
What is it about certain bad movies that you can't help but watch them? I don't mean just one time either. I'm talking about over and over again. There are some movies, that, while you acknowledge that they are rotten to the core, you can't turn them off.

I am in the middle of watching one of these films right now. It has all the elements that could make a good film: the right actors, the right settings, action, good one-liners, but the film is a flop, a failure. Why? Simply put, because it doesn't work. It isn't put together well and it isn't convincing. Not only that, normally good actors are terrible.

Why do I watch? Maybe it's because I enjoy mind-numbing stupidity. Possibly it is because I have nothing better to do. I can only offer one explanation that makes any sense to me. I am a cinephile. I'll explain more at a later time. I have a bad movie to finish.

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A Token of Affection
Don't you just love getting gifts from other countries? I mean, getting gifts is always cool, but there is something extra special about getting something from another place, be it from someone who went on a trip or someone living in a far off place. I have been lucky enough to get gifts from three different countries recently. Actually, if you count the package I got a few weeks ago, four. I don't know why I was deserving of these gifts, but the people who brought or sent them feel that I am, and who am I to argue?

I can remember being little, and the pinnacle of my existence, of my happiness, always came from someone bringing back something from the airport. I didn't care if it was those little eye covers that they give you on the plane. I only wanted the memento. It wasn't that I was a greedy child. I wasn't. It was the fact that the keepsakes made me feel important, worldly. I would imagine where my little trinkets had come from and how they came into my possession. I would dream about the far off places that I would someday go when I was grown up, and I knew that I would always bring back little souvenirs for everyone that I love.

I haven't traveled as much as some, but I have been to a lot of different places, and I always try to bring back something for the important people in my life. I found out that the most important part about gifts from other places isn't receiving them, it's seeing the faces of your loved ones when they first open their gifts. Remember that the next time you travel.

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P.S. Someone told me that, while still keeping with anonymity, I should reveal that I am of the female persuasion. So if you hadn't figured it out already, rest assured that I am a girl.

Whispering Bells...
I am speaking to you now in a whisper. Not really, since this is typing, but everyone who comes in contact with me today will be spoken to in a whisper. Why? I've lost my voice. The bad part is that I lost my voice not due to excessive partying or shouting but because I have a head cold. I woke up this morning with a killer sore throat and it has progressed to the point that my voice is almost gone. Try making international calls when you're unable to speak. It's not an amusing task (unless you are in no way involved and hearing the story from someone else).

Needless to say, I'm at home. I was at work, but I came home because I was little use to anyone there. It's strange to be home when you don't expect it. Usually I can tell when I'm starting to get sick, so I can plan ahead that I may or may not be at work the next day. You know, hit up the local Blockbuster for flicks and the local market for some sick food comme Ben & Jerry's (actually Dryers has this new light ice cream on the market that tastes as good as the real stuff, especially the Butter Pecan). I didn't have time to plan though, so now I'm stuck here with nothing fun.

Don't feel too bad for me. A very generous person, who had the day off before I got sick, is going to take me out and be my voice for the day. Actually he had to run some errands and asked if I wanted to get something to eat and go along. I agreed. It's not like I have anything better to do. I actually don't feel that bad other than my sore throat and the fact that I can't talk. Oh well.

Right now I'm listening to Crazy Mary by FM Static. I have never heard their music before (until about two minutes ago I didn't even know who they were). It's fun when you haven't seen someone in a while and they introduce something new to you. I like these guys enough that I might see if they have a CD and I've only heard one song. That is unusual for me because I'm a bit cheap.

Anyway, I'm off to eat, drink, and whisper to my lunch companion. Have a great day.

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Off Kilter...
What is off kilter? Off kilter basically means something that is a bit askew, out of whack, or off balanced. In general, the kind of things I like to write about, hence the blog name.

Until recently, I didn't know what a blog was. My friend had to explain it to me. I then realized that I had known what it was all along, but I was unaware of the terminology. I don't really have a specific reason for starting a blog. A close friend of mine has one and I thought it was interesting. I guess that's reason enough for me.

I have decided that I am going to keep this blog anonymous (well, to most of you out there, the guy that set it up and a few other people know who I am). There are a few reasons that I have chosen anonymity. 1.) There are some sick people in this world and I would prefer it if they didn't know who I am and what I like to eat for breakfast. 2.) I'm paranoid. (kind of the same as # 1, but I'm really paranoid). 3.) I have a lot of interesting stories to relate, and a lot of people might be a bit perturbed if they found out that I was the person revealing these stories (not that this would have much effect on my life, other than the fact that people would be mad at me, and I don't like it when people are mad at me). 4.) I like anonymity. I can actually be myself, which is fun. Sorry, if at times, this means that the details I give are a bit vague.

Have fun reading and I'll write more soon.

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