Why Ryan Adams sucks

Yes, that's right, I said that Ryan Adams sucks. Our love affair is over. Ever since he cancelled BOTH concerts in Seattle I see him for what he really is - a hope stealing, cigarette smoking (heroine shooting?)musician that produces too many CDs and not enough love for me. I was so ready for the concert last night. I had my outfit ready so that he would be overwhelmed by my effortless beauty and hence invite me backstage. Once there, he would realize our overwhelming compatability - how can one deny destiny - and ask me to be his bride, or at least to bear his love child. But now all of that is ruined and I don't even care. You know what, Ryan Adams? I didn't even buy your last album! What do you think about that?! Sucker.

Allow me to share with you my constitution

I am the sort of cat that not only says 'F*** you,' but says, 'F*** you . . . in the ass.'








This post is dedicated to Sean and Andy.

Kyrgyzstan Story

My host-grandmother was kidnapped by my host-grandfather. Their eldest son kidnapped his bride. Their middle son, my host-father, went about it in the more widely accepted, western way - by asking.

http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/nationworld/chi-0507240351jul24,1,1130165.story?coll=chi-newsnationworld-hed&ctrack=1&cset=true

This link provides a really interesting story on Kyrgyzstan, where I served as a Peace Corps volunteer for seven months.

'So this is a rave.'

On Friday night, I had my eyes opened. Much to my shock and surprise, techno is not only admired by e-bombed kids wearing white pants and waving glow sticks, but by Seattle yuppies as well! I went to my first techno show with friends to see Deep Dish who, I am told, is ‘pretty old-school’ when it comes to Progressive House. Huh? In my ignorance, I didn’t even know that techno had sub-forms! I made my first blunder of the night by attempting to wear flip-flops into the club. When I had located some appropriate footwear and was admitted by the bouncer, I made another mistake by saying, “So this is a rave.” My friends were peeved, to say the least. “This is NOT a rave!” They yelled. Oops. I guess I just have a hard time understanding the difference. Here’s what I’ve gleaned over the past couple of days: a)Rave – takes place in a warehouse with flashing lights, kids on party drugs, thumping beats, and crazy outfits, b)Show – takes place at a club (this is apparently a key difference) with good DJs, flashing lights, and kids on party drugs. The only thing missing is the crazy outfits, as the downtown Seattle crowd tends to dress a little more to impress. I’m not going to lie, though, it was a great time. I haven’t been so sweaty on a dance floor since 80’s Night at the 3B in Bellingham. I wish that I could post some pictures of my gnarly blisters and torn-up toes. I’m excited – now I will feel more at home in my future travels! I will no longer be intimidated by Euro trash clubs and pulsing beats. But don’t worry; I’ll leave my glow sticks at home.

Rain, rain, go away!

Above is a picture of my friend, Quinn, peeing into the abyss on Kendall's Katwalk. Note the fog and rain. Welcome to a Seattle summer! Don't blink, or you'll miss it. We have two weeks of absolutely beautiful weather, a couple days of it's-not-raining-but-it's-still-kind-of-dismal weather, and the rest is just rain, rain, and more rain. It's the same as a Seattle winter, only slightly warmer. I love Seattle, but I have begun to feel bitterness toward the incessant rain. True, the grass is always green. True, our trees always have leaves (okay, needles). Yes, you can play outside all year, as long as you don't mind a decent soaking. Are these positives a fair trade for the constant gray? I am especially upset because all week long the weather was hot and sunny, but now that it's Friday everything goes to crap. I guess I'll be wearing a poncho to my friends' barbeque and the festival tomorrow afternoon. One really good thing about Seattle weather is that, wherever you go, you are always appreciative. Blazing heat? Hey, at least its not rain! Blizzards? Still not rain! Tornadoes? Don't even talk to me about it . . .

Innocence Lost

I have no idea how technology functions. Television, for example. How do they get those pictures on a screen in my house? I'm curious as to how television works, just as I'm curious as to how the book I'm reading right now ends. Maybe I'll skip to the end and read the last page, but I know that if I do I'll lose most of my interest in the plot. It's like eating desert before dinner or finding out who won the Superbowl before you watch it (granted, you are in Kyrgyzstan and you have to wait two months for the tape to arrive, but still . . .). Yesterday, I drove down to Portland to pick up Noah the Dog where he was patiently waiting for me at the news station. My brother-in-law decided to show me around 'the compound' so that I could see what a real TV station looks like. Oh bliss! Oh lucky day! But when we got inside, it looked a lot like my office, only less nice and with lots of televisions on everywhere. Where did the magic go? I don't want to know that my local anchorman is cracking jokes to himself because no one is operating the camera. I don't want to know that on the other side of my television screen is a disgruntled, unshaved tech-guy who sits in front of hundreds of switches for hours on end, choosing which images to display. It's just too weird. I do, however, like to know that my brother-in-law sat outside some guy's house in Idaho for three hours in a van with tinted windows, waiting to get a story - now that is magical. From now on I want to know as little about TV as possible. In fact, I don't really want to watch it at all, unless it's the Laguna Beach marathon or Queer Eye for the Straight Guy extravaganza. For those I will make an exception, but I definitely don't want to visit the set and find out that Carson is actually manly and straight and making jokes about hitting-it. Ignorance is bliss.

Come and Take It!

This weekend my family celebrated not only my mother's graduation from college, but my Dad's fiftieth birthday. My aunts flew in from Texas, friends from Arizona, cousins from wherever they were in the US, and my sister and her husband drove up from Portland. It was a great party and so much fun, until the family togetherness began to wear a few of us down - namely myself and my older brother who are easily sparked.


Now, I want to precede this story with a anecdote that my father tells me every time we are driving through south-central Texas. It is the story of a small town called Gonzalez which, during the Texas war for independence, made a big name for itself. This town of a few hundred people (maybe less) was harboring a cannon owned by the Mexican army. When the war began, the Mexicans demanded the cannon back. The townspeople refused. The Mexicans again asked for their cannon, flexing their muscles and threatening attack if the cannon was not relinquished. In response, the hardy people of Gonzalez hung up a banner at the entrance to their town which read, clearly and proudly, "Come and take it!" The Mexicans came, but never got their cannon back because the Texans fought long and hard.


This little piece of history is a reflection of an argument my brother and I got into this weekend. My father has a bike. "A classic!" the REI people yell every time I bring it in for tune-ups. This bike is only ten years old, but it is vintage in the bike world and generally awesome. I love this bike. When I ride to the park, I sleep with arm across it. Sometimes I even talk to The Bike. As it happens, when I was still living in Kyrgyzstan, my father told my older brother that he could take the bike. He didn't pick it up while I was gone, but once I had returned and already replaced the seat, rewrapped the handlebars, and had it tuned-up, he demanded The Bike. I refused. Again he demanded The Bike. Again, I refused. "Fine," he said, "I'm just going to take it then," and began preparing to load the bike onto his girlfriend's truck. I felt like a fire had been lit inside of me. This is how women who lift cars off of children feel! I ran outside in my bare feet and t-shirt and jumped on The Bike. "Come and take it!" I screamed and pedaled away.


After riding around the block, I realized that I couldn't go back home with The Bike while my brother was still there, so I stashed it in a neighbor's garage and walked home. "Why don't you have your shoes on?" my Dad asked when I walked in the door. "I don't really want to talk about it," I said. But I was vibrant from my victory. Come and take it.

Me and My Swollen Eye

Something extremely mysterious is going on here in Sammamish and it has to do with my swollen eye. The mystery is, how did I get this swollen eye? Why does my swollen eye hurt so badly? Most importantly, will my swollen eye reduce in size before I leave for Las Vegas on Friday? I'm curious as to why I have only one swollen eye and not two, but I guess I should be thankful. Apparently it's not that noticeable, but I feel like Quasimodo and think that everyone is constantly looking at my eye. I hope that this is not permanent. In yoga this morning while doing the Downward Dog, I could feel the blood pumping in my swollen eye and it felt like someone punching me repeatedly. Then, while drinking a capuccino and reading at Victor's Coffee, I had to hold the book directly in front of my left eye because the other was too swollen and blurry to use. I hate my swollen eye.

Summarizing

In an attempt to more accurately focus my forward-thrusting efforts, I want to take a moment to step back and look at some things that I have accomplished in the past two years. These follow no particular pattern.


Schools graduated from: 1
Schools attended: 2
Languages learned: 2.33333337
Countries travelled to: 5-8
Time spent abroad: 1 year
Books read: Infinite
Houses lived in: 6
Boys been dumped by: 2
Boys I have dumped: 1
Been in love: 1.25
New sports attempted: 3
Car crashes: 0
Flights taken: ~34
Letters written: ~50
Classes taught: 92
Pounds of plov consumed: 110
Horses ridden: 1
Donkeys ridden: 0
Turkeys slaughtered: 2
Official government buildings viewed: 9
Jobs worked: 5
Smallest salary ever: 100$/month
Marathons trained for: 1
Marathons completed: 0
Training related injuries: 2


Hmmmm, very interesting. I wonder if achievement levels dwindle post-college?

Long Time

It's been a pretty long time since my last post, mainly because I have very little to write about. I'm back in the greater-Seattle area, living with my parents, and out of work. I've only been home for four days and have been filling my time with riding bikes and seeing old friends. I feel like I could ride my bike all day, every day, if only I were in better shape. As it is now, my legs feel like noodles every time I step off the damn thing and try to walk. Gone are the days when I was athletic and trim, though I have a feeling they are on the come-back. As to the old friends, I had totally and completely forgotten what it was like to have a social life. After seven months of spending my nights with my best friend (a heater) and our companion (a book), it seems a little exhausting to hang out with people every night. Perhaps I'm over-doing it. My social arena in The Stan consisted of Sean and Umut and a bottle of wine. After Lamar sent Sean the You Don't Know Jack computer game, we felt like our wild college days had returned - an entire hour of trivia! You have to be kidding me! After a night of You Don't Know Jack, I would go home exhausted and then sleep until 11am the next morning. Maybe sometimes I even had a trivia-induced hangover. Anyway, I'm readjusting to life here, or at least trying to, and sometimes its really hard. It's kind of like that old Kyrgyz banya when you step out of the sauna and then jump into the icy pool. Eventually it's refreshing, but for those first few moments you feel like your heart will stop beating. That's me right now, still in those first few moments.

Re-entry and isn't it hilarious to be alive?

Well, it's Saturday night and I am lame. I think that I have begun to experience reverse culture-shock, which is the term for how freaked-out you get when you come back to the United States after living in the third-world for seven months. This is why the US is freaking me out right now: This afternoon, at around 1pm, I decided to hop on the metro and head to the Smithsonian to see the Holocaust Museum. For some reason, possibly because it was Saturday, possibly because the Cherry Blossom Festival was going on (beautiful, truly), the metro was absolutely packed. I mean, Tokyo at rush hour packed. This was not a big deal. I have sat in circa 1980 mini-vans (marshukas) for hours at a time over roads paved with boulders. I have sat in mini-vans so incredibly crowded that unknown women set their babies, or chickens, on my lap. I have had drunk Kyrgyz men grope my ass. Crowded metro cars in Washington, DC where people are freshly showered and afraid of causing offence to anyone are no problem Or, at least, I thought this was the case until today. The car was so packed that I was joking about the packedness of the car with strangers. It was funny until we came to the Foggy Bottom stop - this was when The Woman decided to snap. "You are standing in the DAMN DOORWAY!" she yelled at the people clinging desperately to poles and seat-backs, unable to move because other people were standing behind them, to the left of them, breathing down their necks. This was when she started pushing the Other Woman, the innocent one, and yelling again, "Will you move out of the F-ing doorway!" The Other Woman, being normal, didn't respond. I said, audibly (snapping in my own, particular way), "Are you freaking kidding me?" People looked away. What causes people to snap like this? Obviously we have all been in frustrating situations, but this is what they are - situations. They are not life. Usually they don't last longer than ten minutes, which is enough time to remember to breathe into your abdomen and use that breath to laugh at how ridiculous things have gotten. I hope that this tendency to snap and forget the hilarity of life, the waste of this hilarity on anger, is a trait of The Woman and not of America in general. Anyway, I made it to the Holocaust Museum. I saw pictures of the children who were euthanized for being imperfect (aren't we all?). I read about women and men who risked their lives to resist imprisonment and enslavement. I listened to the story of two starving men who, after years of starvation, ran to embrace each other because they were both alive and wasn't it something to be joyful about? After seeing this shadow of tragedy, I want to say to The Woman (at the risk of sounding condescending and preachy) - suck it up, you wuss. Suck it up. You know nothing of frustration.

I get my news from Wolf Blitzer.

I was getting my hair cut today in DC when the stylist, David, who is French and utterly fabulous, leaned down and whispered that Wolf Blitzer had just come in. Apparently he had been doing work in Iraq. "Oh, was he reporting?" I asked from underneath my hair. "Non," David replied, "he is no reporter. He is anchorman (imagine the statement being made with a French accent)." Then I felt like an asshole for not knowing what exactly is was that Wolf Blitzer did for a living. To make up for my ignorance, I watched this man with the famous name very carefully. Wolf Blitzer sat down and read a magazine. Wolf Blitzer stood up and went to the bathroom. Wolf Blitzer came back and announced that the Pope had passed. "When did it happen?" David asked. "About two minutes ago," Wolf Blitzer replied. Of course, being Wolf Blitzer, he would know. What I'm curious about is, why did he wait to announce this? Was he letting the tension build by sitting to read his magazine, by going to the bathroom? Maybe Wolf Blitzer always announces world-changing breaking news when he goes in to get his beard touched-up and he was just kidding around with the stylists by making them wait. Maybe, because he is Wolf Blitzer, he does not have to honor the important information code, which is that you announce really important information as soon as you enter a room. I don't know. What I do know is, nobody questioned Wolf Blitzer when he made his statement. This was not true for me. When I got back to the hotel, I announced to the room at large, "I saw Wolf Blitzer at the hair salon and he told me that the Pope died." Nobody believed me, especially the part about Wolf Blitzer being at the hair salon. Hopefully Wolf Blitzer was not playing a late April Fool's Day joke about the Pope. First of all, because it wouldn't be funny and, second of all, because it would make me look like a total fool. But isn't that the kind of power that Wolf Blitzer has?

America is boring

Welcome to the United States. Now that I've been here for a couple days and have settled in (by this I mean: have taken several showers, washed clothes in a washing machine, and retrained myself to NOT throw toilet paper in the trash can after use) I've come to the conclusion that America is boring. I haven't seen any ass-carts since I've been here. No random drunk men have tried to fight me on the street over the state of our country's foreign policy. I haven't sat on the floor to eat in a week. Maybe it's boring in a good way, but today when someone asked me what the most interesting thing that happened to me yesterday was, I had to respond, "I saw a cute guy on the subway." If this is the most stimulating thing in my daily life then things have really gone downhill. Mostly its my own fault since I am still captivated by the readily available book stores and English television programs. Tomorrow I am determined to go see some stuff. Oh wait! Something interesting DID happen to me today! Not only did I eat at Baja Fresh, but I hypnotized myself. Yes, that's right, I hypnotized myself. Is that too weird? Is it even possible? Well, that sums up things for now. I'll update when I see George W.

So this is our nation's capitol.

I arrived in Washington, DC the day before yesterday. When I stepped off the plane, I almost cried with the wonder and joy of being in America again. Unfortunately, the customs agents didn't share my joy and demanded my passport and tickets when I said, "Can you believe it? It's America!" No one understands. Since I've been here I've gone shopping, had a massage, eaten at a deli, shopped at Safeway, and spoken English to everyone. The English part is a little bit weird. I'm not used to understanding other peoples' conversations in the bathroom and on the subway and, honestly, I find it a little disconcerting. In-country, when people would speak in Russian I always imagined they that were discussing something incredibly interesting. Now I realize that they were probably just saying, "Could you pass me some toilet paper? My stall is out." or "Did you hear about the newest recipe for plov? I can't wait to try it at our sheep slaughtering this weekend." Plus, it is exhausting to process information about other peoples' lives. Of course I always listen in and make mental notes - this one's neurotic, this one's an insomniac, this one's life is driven by work, and so on and so on. They're probably thinking: This one has a bad haircut. I have a lot of free time here and am trying to think of ways to fill it. Its an entirely different problem than the one that confronted me in Kyrgyzstan. There my options were either read a book or watch television in Russian. Oh, or sit in my room for an hour straight mechanically putting chocolates into my mouth (not that it ever happened). Here I can go to a museum, see a movie, get a coffee and read the paper - so many things to do that it makes decision making difficult. Alright, I'm going to go try and sleep again. I woke up, as usual at 5am and was wide-awake. Thank you jet-lag! Bye for now.

Still in Germany

I lied, I'm updating from Germany again because I have HUGE news - I saw a Starbucks!!! It was closed so I couldn't go in, but I saw one. I recognized the green table-tents from afar and my heart started pounding. Just seeing it was enough to convince me that I'm back in the western world. I walked around this morning looking at old buildings and eating German pastries. It is cold here right now. There is a park along the Rhine river and the entire area was covered in chilly fog, but it was nice to walk through anyway. Since last night I have met people from Malta, India, America, and, of course, Germany. Travelling is always so interesting. Alright, back to my hotel to pack up and catch the subway back to the airport. Goodbye, Frankfurt! You were amazing.

Hello from Frankfurt

I want to begin this post by apologizing for any misspellings, particularly `y` where there should be `z` and vice-versa. I'm writing this in Frankfurt, Germany and, for some reason unknown to me, the keyboard is switched-around. First of all, Kyrgzy news: the president fled the country, the opposition party took over the government buildings, the mob looted various stores around the city, and Peace Corps volunteers are consolidated. As far as I know, the only people who have been evacuated are the volunteers from Osh and Jalalabad who are now living in various surrounding villages. My home-town, Bazar-Korgon, has welcomed its fair share of volunteers recently. In response to Ian's post - BK remains peaceful and Kyrgyz-Uzbek relations remain as they ever were. By the way, I know your old host-family and they still speak of you. When militia officers were being beaten to death by an angry mob in Jalalabad City, the people of Bazar-Korgon didn't even know that there was a problem half an hour away from them. Speaking of Bazar-Korgon, it seems far away right now, considering the fact that I just ate at McDonalds, withdrew euros from an ATM, and am about to go drink some German beer. The initial plan for my medevac was to leave last night on Turkish Airlines and stop over in Istanbul; however, foreign carriers cancelled all flights out of Bishkek, so my options were limited to flying from Almaty, or taking Kyrgyz Airways to Germany. Since I don't have a Kazakh visa and the borders were closing down, Kyrgzy Airways was the better option. I should be in DC tomorrow evening. I'm feeling extremely overwhelmed right now by the recent events. First of all, I get whisked away from my village for medical. Then, while in the city, an angry mob takes over the government. I was just sitting down for lunch in a nice cafe (I had even ordered a cappuccino), when a Peace Corps staffer came running in. 'We have to go now!' she said. 'Why,' I asked. 'They're just bringing my coffee.' 'The people are coming!' she said. 'The people are coming!' We ran outside to where the Peace Corps vehicle was waiting and, sure enough, thousands of protestors were marching down the street. While I was sad to leave behind my coffee, I preferred not to be in the path of so many volatile marchers. To make up for this loss, a friend and I decided to go to the Hyatt for lunch. When we came back, stuffed and glowing from our delicious meal, we discovered that the opposition had taken over the White House and that Akaev had fled. I felt like such a tool. I was eating lunch at the Hyatt while other people were witnessing revolution. But anyway, this entire situation is just too weird. In fact, I'm really weirded out that I'm in Germany right now. I mean, honestly, Germany? Just this morning I was stoked to have a luke-warm shower at the hotel. When I asked the woman at the desk here if the rooms have showers, she laughed in my face. Apparently I have some adjusting to do. Alright, sorry this blog is so long. If you have read this far, you are a dedicated type of person. Next update will be from Washington, DC.

Escape!!!

Due to increasing unrest in the city centers (Sadie heard gunshots outside of her house and Scott saw people handing out Molotov Cocktails), Jalalabad City has been evacuated to Bazar-Korgon and Kochkor-Ata. Sean put up four extra volunteers in his apartment and life was easing and the living was free for a day or two. We played frisbee at the stadium, watched movies, and walked around. We also ate pizza. Unfortunately, it is easy to go crazy when you can't leave a village for an unknown amount of time. I was ready to bang my head against the wall, if only to knock myself unconscious and sleep for a couple hours. Myself and three other girls in the Jalalabad Oblast needed to travel to Bishkek for medical reasons, but whenever we would begin to prepare our trip something new would happen. For instance, the opposition would block all traffic from the south to Bishkek. Or, the opposition would pour rocks all over the airport runways so that planes couldn't land or take off. Finally, Doctor Yelena decided to chance the odds and drive down in the Peace Corps Vehicle in order to pick us up. We left Bazar-Korgon yesterday at noon and had no problems driving up, except for when we almost got stuck crossing the mountains, but that is another story. Now I'm in Bishkek, waiting for my appointment with the doctor. I am here indefinitely as all Peace Corps volunteers are now on Stand-Fast, which means they can't leave their sites and have to check in regularly with the office. Stand-Fast is the first step of evacuation, if the situation here leads to that. I've run into some other volunteers who are also stuck in the city. They are unhappy about it, but I say great! A hot shower every day and cheeseburgers at my disposal? I'm stoked to be here. I'll let you know how it turns out.


By the way, if you are using my blog to back up the premise that America is funding the opposition party in Kyrgyzstan, you are a fool. America doesn't even know that Kyrgyzstan exists.

Trapped and Nasty American Rumors

Well, today is our six month anniversary in Kyrgyzstan and, to celebrate, we are trapped in our villages. Thank you Civil Unrest Fest! Thank you Kyrgyz people! You have succeeded in making my life that much more boring and tedious. Things, apparently, are heating up around here. For instance, the mayor of Bazar-Korgon was captured and held hostage by angry protestors, only to be rescued by special task-force militia. Now he is in hiding somewhere, we don't know where (because he is hiding). The same thing happened in a village in Talas. In Osh city, the first reports of injuries were made when protestors took over a government building there. What is this craziness? Though it sounds interesting, things appear to be as quiet as ever in day to day life. Sean, Umut and I, strapped for things to do, ended up watching Six Feet Under on Sean's laptop for FIVE HOURS straight yesterday. I think I developed a bed-sore. We snuck into Jalalabad City today, feeling very anti-establishment and courageous, only to discover that it is alright to travel during the day, only overnight travel is restricted. Well then. Anyway, I am going crazy in my site, which should be obvious by the stress-induced hives that curiously appeared on Thursday night. There is no relief in sight, either, as we have a two week vacation to look forward to and nothing to do. Excellent.


The second half of this entry will be devoted to dispelling nasty rumors that Americans have about themselves. I was inspired to write this on our taxi ride into the city this morning -honestly, guys, Kyrgyz people KNOW about America. The nastiest rumor that Americans have about themselves (and I really hate to be the one to break it to you) is that Alaska is actually a state. It's really on lease from Russia and the sooner we realize this the better. This comes as a relief to me, because I hate people from Alaska. Another nasty rumor we have is that there are fifty states. In truth, there are anywhere from thirty to sixty-five states, depending on who you talk to. I think the numbers change based on the weather and what Arnold Schwarzenneger, who is actually the president, decide. In America, we do not have tall mountains, big rivers, or notably large lakes. We don't have snow, cold weather, or rain because California, Florida, and Texas have taken over the country. We also don't have walnuts. I don't know what it is that you're eating right now, but its not really a walnut and you should probably throw it away. Some dirty capitalist developed that walnut look-alike in an attempt to take over the world and enslave the working classes. The sooner you realize these things, the better. Perhaps you should spread the word to everyone else - we don't want to look stupid in the eyes of the world.


Alright, I've got to go back to my village and stare at the wall for a while. Check out Eurasianet.com for information and updates on the Kyrgyz situation. Don't forget to click on Kyrgyzstan.

My Kyrgyz Haircut

Well, I just had my first hair cut in eight months and, though it was much needed, I have to be honest and say that my hair looks like shit. I look like a blonde Kyrgyz woman. It's not as bad as the euro-mullet haircut that crazy man gave me in Spain, but it's similar to the bowl cut my Mom blessed me with for the first twelve years of my life. I didn't think it was so bad at first, but my Kyrgyz friend Umut saw what the woman had done and asked me, "Oh! Are you okay?" which is when I started realizing that things had gone horribly wrong. I guess this is what I should expect for paying 1.50$ for a haircut. Wondering about the reasons behind a cheap bad haircut is kind of like wondering why a bottle of 40 com vodka gave you such a nasty hang-over. Anything for a dollar is just not worth it. But don't pity me and my bad hair, I put myself into this situation and I will live with its consequences. Bye for now.

Shout-Outs

This blog entry is dedicated to the people I rarely communicate with, but think are awesome. If you feel that you are not one of these people, read no further. If you are bored by the idea of reading about people who are not you (you self-centered asshole), read no further. If you would rather watch reruns of the Real World, read no further. If you can't read at all, stop looking at this, you're wasting your time. Let the shout-outs begin!


1. Kathryn Stickney - You are awesome and I wish I had your e-mail address! Congratulations on seminary - I'm really proud of you. In Kyrgyz, we say 'ak jyrek,' which mean 'pure-hearted.' This makes me think of you.
2. Lamar Brown - Though we have never met in my life, you are my own personal hero. Thank you for the walkie-talkies and all the delicious treats you send to your son, which he then shares with me. You seem cool - I'm sorry that Sean is such a bitch.
3. Reuben Person - If I could, I would drop the Peace Corps and move to New Zealand to hang out and have adventures with you. You better not be sharing the Reuben Tiggle Jiggle with other girls, because I will kill them with my own two hands.
4. Katie Grimes - When will the old hotness and the new hotness be reunited? When?
5. Chris Patnode - Thank you for always commenting on my lame blogs and for sending me delicious chex mix. We ate it in one sitting and it was irresistible.
6. The Makers of Clone - You have remade my life from something lost and floating into something with drive and direction - the need to watch Clone every night at 7pm. My life has a purpose again.
7. The US government and all you taxpayers - Thank you for giving me a job, you suckers.
8. Ayn Rand - Even though you are dead, maybe someone will get you this message: you are amazing! I don't know how right-on the whole Objectivism thing is and sometimes I find you rather heartless, but keep on rocking for all those above-average people out there!


This concludes my shout-outs for today. Stay prepared for the next update - maybe you'll be on it.