some thoughts on the postsecret event last night

• Frank Warren is cute. I almost said my secret is that I have a crush on him.
  
• I didn't bring my books to have them signed. It would have been pretty cool, but the line was long.
  
• People shared secrets. Some were powerful, some... weren't.
  
• Frank said he receives about 1,000 secrets a week and only posts about 20. Now we know why he doesn't post the other 980. Because they are probably uninteresting.
  
• An attractive person can become unattractive when they go up to the mike and open their mouths. Brad agrees.
  
• Frank takes it all very seriously. This is good because if it were me, I would yell at the microphone ramblers... SPIT IT OUT!
  
• The best part was learning about the SECRET secrets... the ones that didn't make it into the book because, for example, Mickey Mouse would sue your ass.
  
• The funny secrets are great.
  
• Brad, Joe and I all knew going in that none of us would be sharing a secret. Or crying (although I almost cried). It was bit of a relief.
  

Questions I should have asked:

• Has anyone ever shown up at your house? (The PostSecret address is Frank's home address)
  
• Where do you keep all the postcards? (Frank keeps all secrets that are sent to him.)
  
• Do you do all the legwork yourself? Scanning the postcards, sorting them, etc.
  

it's not a secret.

Brad, Joe and I are going to the Lifetime of Secrets event in FoCo later this month. Woo hoo!

Since we're (Joe and me, of course) already engaged, I don't think this will happen (at least not to me). But I hope there are many new secrets and that Frank will sign my book(s). I am so excited!

[Here is where a picture of the tickets would go, except Brad has them]

Chocho and the TSO

Monday: Found Cat.

This little guy topped off my evening on Monday:



We found Chocho lingering outside our door, and decided he was homeless. Since we couldn't bring ourselves to leave him loose in the night, HotCop took him over to stay in P-Hars garage. After much soul searching and anxious conversation, we decided to take him to a local no-kill shelter. He's obviously an outdoor cat, and coudldn't coexist with our indoor cats.

Tuesday: The exhaustion begins to set in.

Wednesday: 20th High School Reunion, as Monica called it. Saw a bunch of the old kids to celebrate the departure of a certain former boss.

Thursday: The exhaustion builds. Joe, HotCop, Phar and I go to see TSO.

Friday: Dinner with the cousin who got married last year. It was a Pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving.

Saturday: Laziness, laziness and more laziness.

a day at the zoo.

After spending Monday home sick and spending yesterday home with the tropical storm, I was a bit stir crazy this morning. I was especially happy Joe asked me to go with him to the Virginia Zoo. I'd wanted to go since the first time I worked at dCompany and drove by it every day (the second time I worked at dCompany I took another route, like I was driving to a different place). The Prairie Dogs are coming! Soon they will be here! Yay! Prarie dogs!, signs proclaimed.

I love zoos. For the most part, I think, they do alot of good for wildlife (mostly reversing damage caused by humans, I imagine). Loved the San Diego Zoo and perhaps you've noticed my affection for Tai Shan.

The Virginia Zoo was fun, and had going for it the fact that it was up the street--withing theoretical walking distance, if you didn't have to walk all around once you got there. Joe liked feeding the goats, for 25 cents a piece of goat food, and I especially liked the meerkats and elephants, of course.

The first time we got to the prairie dog habitat there was a sign: "The prairie dogs will return! After yesterday's heavy rains, some of their tunnels collapsed and they are busy rebuilding. We expect them to be out later!" Ah! Later! Good. After more walking and elephant peeping, and wondering if raw gazelle meat really tastes all that good to a lion, we headed back to see The Prairie Dogs! Yay! They are here! Turns out they weren't, however, and we were only treated to zoo volunteers mucking out the habitat.

Still a good day, though with three more things checked off the "we have to do this before Joe leaves downtown" list.

train in va

One of my new employer's clients is a concert pavilion here in SoVa. For the company picnic on Friday, we all got tickets to see Train. We were also VIP, and I snuck in a camera.

Here is my picture of the band. We spent most of our time in the VIP tent with the drinks but felt we needed to make a token visit to our Gold Circle seats. Life as a VIP, so hard.

During said visit, I took this photo of my coworker and her fiancé. In return, she took this one of Joe and me.

Also, my former colleague now my new colleague was very sad his wife wasn't there. I assured him the rest of us were as well.

free falling.

Worse (better?) than the actual ride part of an amusement park ride, I think, is the anticipation of it. This was certainly true of Drop Zone at Paramount's Kings Dominion.

It sells itself as "...the largest drop ride in North America, a 305-foot tower of thrills that promises daring riders a 272-foot descent at 72 miles-per-hour!" For me, it was practically a 305-foot anxiety attack. Joe laughed on the way up and I yelled at him to stop- I was too scared and needed to be able to hear myself repeating, "I'm going to be fine, I'm going to be fine."

The ride itself is so short, you hardly have time to notice it. Just as I started to think "WHAT THE HELL DID I GET MYSELF INTO??" the ride was over. Just like that, they put on the brakes.

I think my life is in a free fall right now. It's out of my control; I'm searching to find the brakes but the handle seems just out of reach.

american idol or not-- the girl can sing.

hotcop and i went to see kelly clarkson last night. air force laughed at me "i just can't forget the whole american idol thing." yeah, whatever. she can sing.

i made a prediction about the concert demographics before we got there: some girls around our age, maybe some of their boyfriends/husbands and a few teenie boppers. boy, was i wrong. there were alot of mother/daughter combinations, with some of the daughters dressed so we went "how OLD is that girl and why is she wearing a hooters t-shirt??" or "is she REALLY old enough to buy that beer?" for the older girls.

all in all, though, good show. kelly sounded almost exactly like she does on the radio/cd, with enough improvisation thrown in so we knew she wasn't faking it. the whole sounding the same thing really can be a blessing or a curse: reference tori amos (who sounds BETTER in concert) and any random pop-rock band (who sound like crap in concert).

some thoughts:

• hotcop and i are still those people who stand up and dance throughout the concert. although at the end we were like whew! the poor girl next to us asked if she could be our friend because the people she came with were like bumps on a log.
  
• we are also those people who sing along. sue me. the average age of the audience was oh, 15, so they were singing along too.
  
• when she started singing annie lennox's why we wondered if any of these kids had ever heard of annie lennox. sheesh.
  
• kelly's got some junk in her trunk. and a bit of a muffin top. but it's refreshing. BECAUSE THIS IS WHAT REAL GIRLS ACTUALLY LOOK LIKE. whew.
  
• some people thought it was club kelly, and dressed accordingly.
  
• we got free schick intuition razors, cause that's who sponsored her tour. where was my free bud light when they sponsored tim mcgraw and faith hill?
  
• the sevs (7-11) run on the way home reminded me of our crazy days dancing at bar norfolk and have a nice day cafe. sigh.
  
• pop music is fun.
  

kelly's today!

swallow me then spit me out

for hating you, i blame myself

seeing you it kills me now

no i don't cry on the outside

anymore.

it only happens to us.

hotcop + erika= trouble. Trouble, that is.

hollywood and i are just back from taking hotcop up the street to the fire station. yes, that's right, to the paramedics.

tonight was a good night. hotcop came home and we got to work--the house was covered in cat hair and dust. she mopped the kitchen 3 times and i vaccuumed and swept. we grabbed a beer each early in the night-- makes the cleaning easier, we've found. after a quick stroll up to the post office to drop some mail, we were ready to eat.

hollywood came over. we ordered pizza and chicken wings. all was grand. hotcop drank a total of 2 beers, i drank 3 (hey, i wasn't going anywhere). we packed up the leftover pizza.

hollywood and i were sitting at the kitchen table talking and hotcop was on the phone when it all went down. all-of-a-sudden i hear a BAM!!! my lovely roommate hit her head on the inside of the fridge... and saw stars. she collapsed on the floor. holy shit that hurt!! i saw stars!! she said to her boyfriend the turkey.

eh, she hits her head all the time. the next 20-30 minutes passed uneventfully. then:
her: erika? can you come look at my eyes?
me: what? there's something in your eyes?
her: no! can you come look at my eyes?
me: right now? [i was on the internet, very important email to read].
her: yeah.

i go downstairs. is one of my pupils bigger than the other? cause if it is that means i have a concussion. oh yeah, one is most definitely bigger. but i can't tell if that's cause i was looking for it. time for a second opinion.

hollywood comes to look. look at her eyes, i say, do they look the same? well, i mean, your right eye is bigger than the left one but other than that... what about her pupils? yeah, one is bigger than the other.

i've already decided we're taking her to the hospital. hollywood is doubtful. "she just hit her head!" "do you want my friend to die??" i ask him.

no no, hotcop says, i'm not going to the hospital. just take me to the fire station up the street. but i've been drinking! the chief knows my dad!

keep this in mind:
1. we are of age to consume alcohol.
2. we have not been driving.
3. neither of us are drunk.
4. she is not on duty.

i've got to find some gum, she says.
we'll make hollywood drive us, i say.

hollywood just rolls his eyes. "that's my get-rich-quick scheme," he tells me, "i'll just start a weekly site about stuff that happens to you guys. and people will advertise on it."

we get gum. i make her practice what she's going to say to the firemen. i wonder if they are going to be hot. repeat after me i have had 2 beers.

we go out to the car and she decides she wants to walk. after all-- it is just up the street! yeah, that's what's best for a concussion, hollywood says (finally! something constructive!). we pile into the DISASTR. i even sit in the back seat.

at the fire station the firemen are settled in (well, as settled in as they can be) for the evening. there are 3, two married, one single. nothing to write home about. they've got ice cream. they've got popcorn. they've got star wars.

i should pause and say that firehouses are THE COOLEST PLACES EVER. EVER. we entered through the garage and it was almost surreal to see their boots in place and the doors to the fire truck open. made me think of school field trips to the firehouse.

so we walk in, and hotcop goes "hi, do you know me? i'm a cop here. i think i have a concussion." the firemen are all over it. she sits down and one of the married ones checks her pupils and head for a bump. "i've got a huge goose egg!" yeah, no you don't. turns out she's fine, and the firemen look at us like we're crazy. i'm sure they thought we were drunk.

is that jagermeister i smell? one of them asks.
no, i say, we drank michelob ultra. ask hollywood. and we have gum.
is that right, hollywood? the married one asks. i know you from somewhere.
well, he's trouble, i say. wherever there is trouble that's where he is.

now all hotcop can do is whine. my head hurts. blah blah blah. no concussion, though, just another adventure to add to our long list of "only us."