How are you today? I'm superfantastic.

So long suckers! I'm set for life!

Dear friend,

I am Mr. Chu Sengchen , Branch Manager. I have urgent and very confidential business proposition for you.On November 6, 2000, a British Oil consultant/contractor with the Chinese Solid Minerals Corporation, Made a numbered time (Fixed) Deposit for twelve calendar months, valued at US$30,000,000.00 (Thirty Million Dollars) in my branch. Upon maturity, I sent a routine notification to his forwarding address but got no reply.

After a month, we sent a reminder and finally we discovered from his contract employers, the Chinese Solid Minerals Corporation that he died from an Egyptian air crash. On further investigation, I found out that he died without making a WILL, and all attempts to trace his next of kin was fruitless.I therefore made further investigation and discovered that he did not declare any kin or relations in all his official documents, including his Bank Deposit paperwork in my Bank. This sum of US$30,000,000.00 is still sitting in my Bank and the interest is being rolled over with the principal sum at the end of each year.No one will ever come forward to claim it.

  According to Laws of Republic of China, at the expiration of 6 (six) years, the money will revert to the ownership of the Chinese Government if nobody applies to claim the fund.Consequently, my proposal is that I will like you as a foreigner to stand in as the next of kin to the man so that the fruits of this old man's labor will not get into the hands of some corrupt government officials. This is simple, I will like you to provide immediately your full names and address so that the attorney will prepare the necessary documents and affidavits that will put you in place as the next of kin.

We shall employ the services of an attorney for drafting and authorization of the WILL and to obtain the necessary documents and letter of probate/administration in your favor for the transfer. A bank account in any part of the world that you will provide will then facilitate the transfer of this money to you as the beneficiary/next of kin. The money will be paid into your account for us to share in the ratio of 80% for me and 20% for you.

There is no risk at all as all the paperwork for this transaction will be done by the attorney and my position as the Branch Manager guarantees the successful execution of this transaction. If you are interested, please reply immediately via my confidential email address: mrchen_seng@yahoo.com.cn

Upon your response, I shall then provide you with more details and relevant documents that will help you understand the transaction. Please send me your confidential telephone and fax numbers for easy communication.Please observe utmost confidentiality, and rest assured that this transaction would be most profitable for both of us because I shall require your assistance to invest my share in your country.

I await your urgent response via my confidential email address: mrchen_seng@yahoo.com.cn

Thanks and regards.

Mr. Chu Sengchen

I hope Mr. Chu Sengchen won't sue me for plagiarism!  Or get mad that I told you, because he did choose me specially.  If you want to take advantage of this offer, you had better get a move on because I am drafting an email already!

Do people really still fall for these things?  And do you think I can fulfill my responsibility to send an angel forward to at least 10 people by posting it here?  Because it will bring me good luck (Something good will happen outside of school or on Instant Messenger!  No really, it said so!) unless I delete it and then my whole life will go to crap and Jesus will know that I don't really love him.  What if I don't forward the angel and then Mr. Chu Sengchen decides not to send me the money?  Excuse me, must go email...

Oh Goodness

Subtitled: What Have I Done?

Not titled (although it was briefly considered): Oops, I did it again.

Before

After

It is very challenging to take one's own picture and simultaneously appear to have a neck.  But James, my new stylist, told me that of course I should cut my hair so short to show off my great neck.  I applaud James for not going with the traditional hair stylist lie "you have such great hair!" and yet this neck compliment business did nothing whatsoever except frankly to improve his tip.  And convince me to let him shear off most of my hair.  Well played, James. 

All of that to say, here is a photo which includes my neck and also some of my bathroom.

I swear, my hands are not gargantuan, just closer to the mirror. 

As much as I may like to blame James and his tricksy neck complimenting, really this is all Holly's fault.  See, Holly got a really incredible haircut.  People cannot stop talking about how great Holly's hair is.  So I thought maybe I should get a great haircut too and then I will look as good as Holly!  Except she is able to make her hair achieve the proper style.  I, on the other hand, have no talent for doing hair and have hair which is remarkably uncooperative.  Also, I am very lazy.  So I normally know better than to get a cut which requires actual doing.

I also blame Emily, and as I indicated in my comment, this photo.  People with cute hair should come with a disclaimer which reads Warning: Your hair will not, under any circumstances, look like this.  Even James was willing to admit, as I showed him that particular photo, that my hair was far too fine to wind up looking similar.  (Why do they call it "fine"?  It's not fine with me!  The opposite of thick is not fine, folks, it is called thin.)

I decided not to cheat and use as my after photo the picture that Amy took when I got home from the salon.  Because we all know that my hair will never look that good again.  So the above photos are from today since yesterday it looked awful.  I am not exaggerating.  It was flat and horrible and looked as if I had hacked into it with my own kitchen scissors or possibly a Swiss army knife.  Today, much better and even doing that little flippy outy thing in back.  Whew.

You'll be happy to know (or at least I was) that apparently it makes total sense that I run though hair dryers like nobody's business.  Because just like all of his predecessors, James at one point announced "you have got A LOT of hair."  I don't really understand this since it seems to me to be pretty much the standard amount (enough to cover my head) but then when I said the thing about constantly killing hair dryers, James nodded knowingly.  This did not surprise him.  He was, however, surprised to hear that my most recent hair dryer actually began to produce smoke.  Mmm-hmm, smoke.  That would be the one I bought about 2 weeks ago.  Wimp.

Have I gone on long enough about my hair?  Yes, I believe I have.

On an unrelated note, I have realized that last Friday was my one year blogiversary!  I had planned to post about it once the date rolled around, but then I forgot to pay attention.  Which is funny since my very first post concerned specifically that flaw of mine!  See, despite all of the fame and fortune that this website has brought me in the past year, I'm still the same Lori.  Comforting, isn't it?

If you like pina coladas...well that wouldn't so much help you here since I hate them.

Amy and I are on our way to church, walking from the parking lot and are pretty close to the doors.  We're talking and in the middle of a sentence, I use the word "damn" fairly loudly, then clap my hand over my mouth and (I assume) turn quite red.

"Maybe this is why I'm still single," I say.  "I'm too churchy for the regular guys and not churchy enough for the other ones."

And scene.

I therefore present my very own personal ad, posted for free here on Superfantastic:

The Lord Made Me Hard to Handle*

SWF seeks intelligent sarcastic liberal Christian b/w ages of 25-35 for dinner, movies, football-watching, and occasional cussing.  Interest in books, politics, travel a plus.  Good manners, grammar appreciated.  Football player build preferred.  Pompous, judgy, and/or superfastmoving commitment types need not apply.

*This is a song lyric.  I've said since the song came out that if I ever had a personal ad, this would be my headline.  For the record, I did not think I would ever actually have a personal ad.

Anybody know this guy?  If so, you could ask him to use the Email Me link on the right left.  You could also encourage him to use spell check before sending his message.

Do you think I need to disclose here that I do not have a cheerleader build?  Or specify which positions of football player I have in mind, build-wise?  Because I'm not looking for, say, a center.  And I fear that I might outweigh some of the kickers.  I will not, as a rule, date a guy I think I could take in a fight.

So now, where my singles at?  Because I am offering a limited time offer wherein you too can post your free personal ad here!  Unless you are also looking for the above-mentioned man, in which case I reserve the right to refuse service.  Because, you know, dibs.

Yes, one half of my pictures are of cake products. Do you have a problem with that?

Jenny apparently doesn't think I can pass for 24 anymore.

But she still makes one hell of a cake.

Amy skirted the age issue all together by making capuccino mug cupcakes.  See, it's a chocolate-covered wafflebowl with a chocolate cupcake inside.  And lots of frosting.  Which really is the important part.  Don't you think?

Not edible, but pretty.

It's possible that I already spent all three of the Target giftcards that I received.  I started with this.  Then I got this, this (but in pink) and this.

Then on Sunday, we rested.

The end.

In which "drove a tank" is not a euphemism for anything.

I really did drive a tank once.

A friend of mine in college, Jason, was in the National Guard.  His unit was having a recruiting day and Jason invited me as well as our friends Heath and Kathy.  You should know that by inviting us, Jason was in no way advocating that we actually join the National Guard.  See, during Basic Training Jason developed some sort of foot problem which the Army doctors decided would be best treated by removing both of his big toenails.  I don't care who you are, that procedure is going to sour your military experience.  Anyway, Jason invited us knowing that in order to persuade us to join up, the Fort Atkinson National Guard was going to let us drive its tank.

So Jason and some buddies arrived at our dorms in a camouflage Humvee that Saturday morning to pick us up.  We were shown to the recruiter's office and he started out by asking Heath, Kathy, and I why we were interested in joining the Guard.  Crickets chirped, tumbleweeds rolled through the office, and finally I answered "to get money for college!"  Heath and Kathy audibly exhaled and then agreed.  Yes, Sir we were there for the college money. 

The recruiter went into his spiel which included explaining to us that we could be helicopter pilots in just 52 weeks!  Now, my math skills are certainly not what you might call "top notch" but even I realize that 52 weeks equals one year.  Is this fooling people?  Are there really folks three months into pilot school thinking, "Dagnabit, I thought sure I'd be a pilot by now!"

Then he asked Heath whether he liked to blow things up.  Heath surprised us all by answering no, he didn't really like to blow things up.  When I asked him about that later, Heath told me that if he'd said yes, the guy would have put him in the Infantry.  Yes, Heath, except WE'RE NOT ACTUALLY JOINING.  We kept a close eye on him after that, just to make sure he didn't accidentally sign anything.

So after our meeting with the recruiter, we got to throw some fake grenades and play a video game with a fake bazooka, and then finally it was the moment for which we had gotten out of our dorm loft beds before noon on a Saturday...time to drive the tank.  Actually I believe it was called an Armored Personnel something (Vehicle?  Carrier?  I don't know.)  We were loaded up standing in the back of the tank and given helmets and then driven through residential Fort Atkinson to a park.  And then they let us drive.

Heath went first and then I think I was next.  It's a pretty bizarre experience since you can't actually see where you're going.  Jason stood behind us and told us which way to go, when to speed up, slow down, etc.  It was fun.  Or at least we thought that part had been fun.  Then it was Kathy's turn to drive.

Kathy didn't have a car at college, so we hadn't realized that she was, in fact, the worst driver ever.  I know that you are thinking that I am only under the impression that Kathy was the worst driver ever because I don't know [insert name of person] whom you know is certainly a much worse driver.  I respect your opinion, and yet you would be wrong.  Kathy may be an excellent driver today (I doubt this) but we were 19 at the time and Kathy hadn't been allowed to get her license until she was 18.  And since she didn't have a car, she'd had gotten very little practice since that time.  With the result that when Kathy drove up the small hill in the park, she heeded Jason's advice to gun it going up and then ignored his advice to let off the gas at the top.

The tank was briefly airborne.  Yes.  Tank.  Airborne.  I shit you not.

Our feet left the ground and our helmets flew off.  Now that is fun in a tank.  Shortly after that, Jason told us that the neighbors had complained too much and they were no longer allowed to take people out tank driving.  I can't say for sure that it was Kathy's driving that did it, just that it is one heck of a big coincidence.

And that is the story of how I managed to drive a tank.  Coming soon...Birthday weekend photos!  I am a little disturbed now, realizing that my 30th Birthday is just 52 weeks away!  That's like, what, a couple of months?

You say it's your Birthday? Well, it's my Birthday to(morrow).

It would be tempting, as I face down this 29th Birthday, to dwell on the things I don't have (say, for instance, a permanent job) or haven't accomplished (e.g., finishing a novel, getting married, skydiving) so I have decided to compile a little list of accomplishments in order to make myself feel better about my newly advanced age.  Here is Lori's Birthday List of Achievements and Interesting Life Experiences So Far.

Visited 32 states and one federal district.  Coming soon...Nevada!  (If you live in Alaska, Hawaii, Washington, Oregon, Idaho, Utah, Montana, Wyoming, North or South Dakota, Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island, or South Carolina, can I stay with you?)

Stepped foot in 1 ocean, 1 gulf, 2 seas, and 3 Great Lakes.

Been to 3 continents and 12 countries (if you count Belgium, which I do, despite only having ridden through on a train).

Seen 2 natural wonders of the world (Niagara Falls and Grand Canyon).

Attended professional football, baseball, hockey, and soccer games, and rodeo.  (Also attended professional wrestling match as a child, but this hardly seems to fit in the same category.)  [And basketball!  I knew I was forgetting one...]

Drove a tank.

Attended Inauguration, Senate confirmation hearings for Colin Powell and John Ashcroft, and saw Supreme Court in session.

Appeared numerous times in The Janesville Gazette, the paper of record in Central Rock County.

Attended live taping of 2 TV shows.

Sold 1 magazine article.

Been to top of Sears Tower, Hancock Building, Empire State Building, Washington Monument, Eiffel Tower.

Watched Packers win Superbowl (seems likely to be a once-in-my-lifetime event.)

Saw several shows on Broadway and many more off.

Brainwashed Indoctrinated Educated hundreds of students.

Frolicked in rain.

Had 3 distinct hair colors (although 2 were short-lived).

Read a lot of good books.

Had picture taken with John Edwards, Sterling Sharpe, Mickey Mouse (not all together).

Authored wildly popular weblog.

Attended Christmas Tree lightings at White House and Rockefeller Center and Macy Day Parade.

Ran around on hallowed sod of Lambeau Field without shoes.

Ate the perfect pain au chocolat while walking down Champs Elysees.

Met, befriended, and loved many wonderful people.

And now Lori’s Birthday List of Things to Accomplish By Next Birthday (The Birthday Which Shall Not Be Named).

1. Get job in chosen field.
2. Skydive.
3. Try Korean food.

And finally, Lori’s Birthday List of Things to Accomplish on Birthday Weekend

1. Consume tasty beverages.
2. Eat cake. (Which, since I am the admin and choose the date of the monthly Birthday celebration, can be easily accomplished by close of business tomorrow!  Am Birthday overachiever!)
3. Enjoy company of family and friends.
4. Gracefully turn 24 years old for sixth consecutive year.

Woe is me & etc.

NOTE: Written and posted last Friday.  But it seemed time to have something else at the top, so I'm moving this one up.  New post coming tomorrow...

So that [Tell me something good] post wasn't intended as an Affirm Me for the Love of God exercise.  I really thought more of you would just tell me jokes or delightful anecdoes.  Not that I am complaining about the nice comments.  You really are very sweet, Internet people.  What you didn't see (but are about to!) is what happened after I left work just after posting the Lamest Post in the History of Posts.  Crabby, crabby, crabby with a little bit of crazy thrown in for good measure!

I was sitting at an intersection when I saw a person coming around with a bucket collecting donations.  I've seen kids here before collecting for youth groups or football teams and my reaction yesterday was, "In my day, we did real fundraisers."  Which got me wondering, when exactly did I turn one hundred years old?  In MY DAY?!?!

This ocurred as I was on my way home from Target after discovering that apparently when I was off not paying attention, society had come together and decided that we were no longer using leave in conditioner in spray form.  (You wanna dance, Society?  I will meet you at the bike racks after school and you had better bring it!)  Because while I sort of randomly started using the Thermasilk leave in conditioner spray a few years ago, running out of it has clearly demonstrated that my hair REQUIRES the leave in conditioner in spray (not gel!) form in order to do that voodoo that it do so...ok, not well, but also not staticky and stuck to my face or limp, dead, and dirty-looking.  In three entire aisles of hair products, I came across only one bottle of spray leave in conditioner, it being Dove.  (I haven't tried it yet since today I am sporting an oh-crap-I-snoozed-too-many-times ponytail.  Yes, I am a grown up person wearing a ponytail to work.  Shut up.)  I also picked up a new hair dryer since I killed yet another one.  I am the Hannibal Lechter of hair dryers.  Except not, because I don't eat them.

And finally, on to what I almost did eat, namely Pop Tarts for breakfast.  Except I didn't buy them since my justification for buying unhealthy breakfast treats did not hold up so well upon examination.  The thing is, I've been losing weight recently, not due to any extra self-control or exertion on my part so much as just not having been particularly hungry for about a month.  (Before anyone freaks out, allow me to say that I swear, I am still eating.  Just not so damn much all the time.)  So the new jeans that I just bought are already getting fairly roomy.  And as I stared at the Pop Tarty goodness, I thought to myself, "hey if I bought Pop Tarts, maybe my jeans would fit again!"  Which, allow me to say myself, is some screwed up thinking.  And then I backed away from the Pop Tarts.

And now, thanks to good Internet mojo, it being Friday afternoon, and that nectar of the gods known as Free Diet Dr. Pepper, I am feeling much better. 

The End.

Five

I debated writing about this day.  I didn’t want to do something maudlin or suggest somehow that my particular experience was in any way extraordinary.  But it also doesn’t feel right to just offer you the usual self-involved schtick (see below—posted Friday afternoon even though no one reads blogs on weekends because it was already written and I knew I couldn’t bring myself to post it today.)  I wish I had some insight to offer, but I don't so I’ll tell you my story instead.

I was between full-time jobs at the time.  I had been teaching kids to read all summer and my contract was going to start in October for another year as an instructor with a non-profit that brought high schoolers to DC from all over the country for a week-long civics program.  So I was working about twelve hours a week in the after-school hours at the reading place and being careful not to spend any money on anything.  I slept in since I didn’t have to work until afternoon.  My mom called and woke me up to tell me to turn on the TV – a plane had apparently flown into one of the World Trade Center towers.

I stumbled into the living room and found my roommate Vicki watching TV.  She worked in the office of the non-profit and just happened to be going in late that day.  We watched in horror as everything fell apart.  We saw the second plane hit, saw the buildings crumble, saw footage of the Pentagon.  Eventually, we turned off the sound on the TV and listened to the radio since they were going back and forth between channels, giving us the latest update on everything.

We heard there was a car bomb at the State Department.

We heard the Capitol had been hit as well.

Then our apartment shook and we wondered what now?  Like all of our neighbors who were home, we went out on the balcony to look around.  What was there in Alexandria, Virginia?  We thought the whole area was under siege.

We figured out later that it must have been a sonic boom from fighter jets flying over.

We watched TV and cried and called our parents over the Internet since our phones wouldn’t work.  Later that night we went over to Vicki's friends' house in the outer suburbs for dinner and took a walk around their neighborhood, just to get away from the TV for a while.  But the rest of the week, I couldn’t turn it off.  I felt guilty about not watching.  So I watched, and cried, and worked my few hours.  I drove past the Pentagon on my way to work and saw the black smoke still pouring out the next day.

Eventually, Vicki was laid off by the non-profit since no one wanted to send their kids to DC.  My contract start date was delayed indefinitely and so began my temp career.  They finally brought us back to work in January.  The Capitol Police started carrying huge guns and I used to know the threat level color every day.

One year later, I was living in NY and I finally convinced myself that I didn’t have to watch the coverage.  I didn’t owe it to anyone.  But I saw the empty chairs lined up in Bryant Park.  I saw the flowers and pictures people left in them.

I'm not going to watch this year either.  But I don't have to.  I remember.

Tell me something good

So.  I've been feeling sort of blah lately.  Could be the cubicle.  Or the sitting in it for eight hours a day.  Or the not getting any calls from any of the thousands of permanent job people to whom I've sent my resume.  Or the week-long series of Very Bad Hair Days.  Or maybe it's just the mean reds.

In any case, there's no Tiffany's in walking distance, so I am asking you, dear readers, to literally make my day.  Tell me something good, Internet.  Whatever comes to mind.

Pondering

As I sit here in my cubicle, slowly freezing to death, I can’t help but wonder…what if I were skinny?  Like, what if Nicole Richie worked here?  Might she actually die of the cold?

Maybe Nicole would be fine and it really is just me.  I do tend to be cold-natured (temperature-wise only…at least as far as I know.)  Would this be exacerbated if I got thinner?  Would I be roasty-oasty warm if I went ahead and got really fat?  Like a cubicle-dwelling seal or polar bear?  Or maybe it would make no difference whatsoever. 

Like most things of this nature, I don’t really understand the science behind it.  I do not intend to experiment with the really fat question.  But if Nicole Richie wanted to stop by and let me know how it feels to her, I would give her candy from the candy bowl.  Or take her to Subway even for a nice sandwich and Baked Lays.

For now, I think I'll settle for going home for lunch and changing into non-sandal shoes due to concerns I have regarding the loss of toes to frostbite.  I did just paint my nails, after all, so it would be a real shame.