I paid $21 to touch a piece of ice...and I loved it!

What I'm Listening To: Just Friends by Nine Black Alps

Yesterday Jim and I decided to try to get into the Milwaukee Public Museum's Titanic artifacts exhibit. Okay, we didn't plan very well, I'll admit it. It was super crowded, and even though we got there at noon, the first Titanic show with openings wasn't available 3:15 PM. Sigh. Since we didn't want to wait around for three hours, we just turned around, had lunch at Louise's (yum! I have a BBQ chicken salad weakness, you see.) and then drove home.

So that night, Jim got us reservations for an 11 AM walkthru of the exhibit for today, 12/31. The ticket prices were outrageous -- $21 apiece, plus service charges -- but we were super psyched!! We drove down to the museum again this morning, parked, and were ready to go for our 11 AM tour at 10:15 AM. We sat patiently in the museum cafe for a while, then we decided to try to kill some time with an attempt to find the famous Milwaukee prostitute hidden in the Streets of Old Milwaukee. Yes, it's TRUE!! We had heard about this whole thing from that John Gurda show about Milwaukee, and were excited to check it out.

Hey, I wanna see a mannequin dressed up like a old-tyme Milwaukee prostitute as much as the next person, so we started our quest. We searched and searched, all the while bitching and moaning about the lack of the old-tymey telephone that you could put a quarter in and it talked to you, and the disappearance of the movie theater. But alas, no prostitute mannequin. It was a big disappointment. But I gotta tell you, the Streets give me a totally bad vibe. Like there's ghosts in there. I am gonna do a blog on all the places that give me bad vibes some time. I just wish I'd seen a ghost!!!

Anywhoo, 11 AM rolled around, and Jim and I got in line for the Titanic exhibition. First they gave us boarding passes that showed who you were on the ship's first and only voyage. I was Mrs. Henry B. Harris, and my husband was a famous Broadway producer who owned the Follies Bergere! OMG, duh, of course I am in first class, because that's the way I roll. Jim, on the other hand, was some 23-year-old Scandanavian agricultural inspector dude in Steerage. Yuck! Oh well, TDB. On with the show.

We walk in, buy the audio tour (another $5 apiece, lovely!) and look at all the fun stuff. Bottles of booze, fine china and everyday plates, entire portholes, staterooms, steering bearings, old photographs, sheet music, menus, clothing, shoes, and lest I forget...the ice. There is a HUGE block of ice in one of the rooms so you can touch it and feel how incredibly cold it was in the waters of the North Atlantic. Yeah, it was COLD. Ice is COLD, people. And wet. Duh.

Then we got to read the listing of which passengers made it and which ones didn't. Of course, a first class hottie like myself makes it -- about 700 people out of 2200 did survive, btw. Jim, aka Nils Odahl, the Scandinavian agriculture inspector, does not. He was going to Peoria anyway -- he's probably better off. Ha. A lot of the passengers were supposed to be on other ocean liners or had personal or business situations where they had to get on the Titanic for some reason or another, but it wasn't their first choice. It was like a real-life version of that horror movie "Final Destination", where the kids who didn't die in the original movie's accident are somehow marked for death for the second time around. Wow. Do you think these passengers felt bad vibes on the boat when it took off? I wonder....

All kidding aside, the sinking of the Titanic was a horrifying tragedy that spurred some much-needed updates in ocean liner safety regulations. I mean, can you imagine that night? The movie with Leo and Kate doesn't even do the event justice. Seeing all those artifacts made the whole ship seem to come alive.

Afterwards we went to lunch in the museum cafeteria, and ate some sandwich that might have been tuna or chicken, we're still not sure. All in all, our day at the museum with tickets, parking and lunch included cost us a total of about $100 for the both of us. Well worth it, I say. (Even though they didn't have any ice bears in the gift shop. More about that in my review of The Golden Compass movie --wow!!)

I really recommend seeing this exhibit, which wraps up in Milwaukee at the end of May 2009, btw.

Oh, and before I forget, happy new year! :) See you in 2009.

Snowbored...sigh!

What I'm Listening To: When did your heart go missing by Rooney

I have been stuck in the house for the past three days thanks to snow. I am going insane. And it's Wednesday, which is now my official blogging day, so guess what? You get to hear about it!

When you're housebound there's only so much you can do. You can watch TV. Since we have Direct TV, we depend on satellite transmission, which is sketchy at best in a snowstorm. Luckily our dish is planted smack in the middle of our backyard, so Jim can go wade through the snow and brush the 3 inches of precipitation off the dish so we can get all 180 channels of excitement. However, even with so many channels, there's NEVER ANYTHING ON!! Seriously!!! So I'm forced to choose between watching some real estate show on HGTV where shiny happy hosts try to convince some inbred couple that having green shag carpet definitely is NOT a selling point, or my favorite, some movie that I've seen like 27 times already (uh, if I have to watch Spiderman 3 or Knocked Up one more time, I'm gonna try to impregnate myself with photos of Tobey Maguire, no kidding.)

Or I could watch my Netflix selections. I was reading that book "The Starter Wife" and figured, hey, wasn't that made into a show with that red-haired neurotic from "Will and Grace"? Why, yes, it was. So I requested a couple episodes of that -- wrong choice. It's super boring, except for the exciting discovery that Bill the Vampire from "True Blood" was in it. So that was kinda fun, for like a minute. But then I had to question why Bill the Vampire -- who, BTW, is now a Malibu homeless man in this show -- had highlights. When do homeless people get highlights? Only in California. Does he get mani/pedi's too? Sheesh, I'd give Bill a Brazilian, he is that HOT! Oh well, True Blood will be back on for their second season soon...must control self until then.

Then there's my favorite option when sitting around bored stiff -- EATING. Quick side note: Jim and I thought ahead for once and went to the grocery store to load up on snacks for this holiday week. And we're sitting there in the store and there's like a kabillion people running around like nutbags buying turkeys and all the trimmings, and I turn to Jim and I'm like, "Do you want anything special for like Christmas dinner or whatever?" and he's like, "No, veggie burgers are fine with me." And once again, I am reminded that I married the coolest guy ever! But seriously, who can resist snacking all day when there's nothing else to do around the house? And we bought these super yummy sweet potato cinnamon-flavored Pringles -- I highly recommend them. But don't come over expecting that we still have any in the house -- duh, I've already eaten them all. But you can have the rest of the pretzels if you want, 'kay?

What else? Oh, I'm reading like three books at the same time, and trust me, they're all dumb. I'm just reading one of them because it's Jackie Collins, and who can resist that crap? I've cleaned the house, but just like minor cleaning. I've shovelled snow at least 5 times now. We've taken a walk around the neighborhood in snow that came up to our knees. It was like walking on the beach, kinda. I've tried to do some online clothes shopping, but couldn't find anything I really needed or wanted. I've renewed my AAA membership, paid all my bills, done 5 loads of laundry, looked at everyone's Facebook page for stuff I might have missed in the past 6 months, and basically I'm done now. Honestly, I am almost excited about going into work on Monday.

What are you doing with yourself on this joyously snowy Wednesday? Oh, yeah. I forgot. It's Christmas eve. We aren't going anywhere, just so you know. We're visiting Jim's mom tomorrow, and then on Saturday we're gonna visit my stepdad's. I haven't bought one single present, but hey, I sent out some awesome Christmas cards!

So if you have any suggestions of stuff we can do while locked in the house, let me know! And yes, we've done *wink* that one too.

Happy Holidays! :)

Driving myself crazy!

What I'm Listening To: Believe by The Bravery

It's been snowing and sleeting and raining and basically weathering here in lovely Wisconsin for the past few weeks. And as we all know, bad weather equals bad driving. With all the examples of poor driving judgment calls begging me to make examples for you, I thought I'd put together a blog all about my favorite activity in the whole world -- driving (ha!) -- and the idiots that inhabit our roads.

As someone who failed her driving test THREE TIMES while in high school (don't worry, I finally passed!), I think I have earned the right to make scathing comments about other people's driving. According to my sister, I drive "like a grandma" (and our grandma had a temper, for sure!), and rightly so. I have had TWO accidents in my entire driving career, and both of them were someone else's fault. Top that safety record!! So come along with me as I ridicule, report and hopefully rectify my fellow road warriors' horrid driving habits.

TAILGATERS -- Excuse me, sir? If you get up my ass any more, you're going to be able to brush my teeth! So LAY OFF. I don't give a goody two-shoes where you're going, but you'll get there eventually. And driving so close to my bumper that I can't even see your headlights isn't gonna help you any when I decide to slam on my brakes so you can pick my chrome out of your teeth, you impatient ass!

One time I was trading similar driving horror stories with a friend of mine, and she's like, "You should brake check those asses!" and I was totally clueless. Turns out brake checking is tapping your brakes repeatedly so that the person gets all pissed off that you might be braking, or god forbid, slowing down. When I'm lucky these jerks just pass me and then I get to exercise one of my fingers -- guess which one?!

CELL PHONES -- Just hang up. No one is that important that you have to talk to them while you're driving. I don't care if Joe Bob left you for Mary Sue and now you think your kid might have ringworm and if you don't talk about the whole horrifying mess of human hellaciousness that is your life right now with your friend Joleene while tooling down the street in your Ford Fiesta you might just die....no one really cares, seriously!! HANG UP. Or better yet, pull over and chat away. Good luck with that ringworm problem -- I hear it's a bitch to get rid of.

NO SIGNAL -- Here's something I see every day on the highway. It's like the driver's thoughts go something like this: "Oh, I gotta get off at this next exit. Might as well just zip into this lane in front of everyone. What? Give them a signal that I'm changing lanes? Why the heck would I want to do that? Life is surprises! Get with the program! See ya!"

What is so difficult about flicking a little knob on your car's steering wheel? Is it like physically impossible for you to touch that knob? Did they not teach you about that in drivers ed? I mean, really. Coming from me, the girl who FAILED her driving test once because she didn't pull over for an ambulance, this is just a no-brainer.

SLOW TURNS -- Why is it that whenever someone wants to turn in front of me, they have to do it at 1 mile an hour? Is turning the wheel so physically daunting that you have to slow down to a snail's pace to accomplish it? It's not like we're playing Pole Position here, people. Turning a little faster isn't gonna make you spin out, even with some snow under your tires. Jeeez, live a tad!

BLIND SPOT -- Every time we drive down Lincoln and I'm getting ready to turn right onto our street, someone is just sitting there in my blind spot. What do you people do, plan this birdseed? I'm serious, EVERY TIME I drive down Lincoln. I call it the Blind Spot Curse.

Well, there's a lot more I could add, but I can't think of any right now. Usually they come to me on the road...go figure! Drive safely, and for cripe's sake, drive sanely!

Why don't you just dye already??

What I'm Listening To: Cold Water Music by Aim

See the cute family photo above? Yes, I think that's the last time I saw my natural hair color. I think I was 8 years old. No kidding. I even had to lighten the picture a little so I could remember what my original hair color that was. Muddy, dirty, mousy....BROWN. Arrrrgggh!

Ever since then I've been on a rampage to find the perfect shade of hair color that will, as the magazines all say, "make my face light up!" Just so you know, lit-up faces only happen on jack 0'lanterns, not on human beings, so all you ladies out there on the same search can call it quits now.

It started off small. In high school, I decided to be a little bold and get some subtle highlights in my spiral perm (shut up, it was the '80s. Not having a spiral perm at the time was pretty much tantamount to social suicide at Waukesha North, 'kay?) I told my hairdresser to stay SUBTLE, and she obeyed. So I come home from the JC Penneys salon and my mom was like, "I thought you got highlights!?" and I'm all like, "Uh, I did!! See?" as I dig out a couple gold strands. Well, I'll admit it, my new highlights were even hard for me to see. But I had highlights -- weren't they supposed to look natural? My mom was all like "I spent hard-earned money for the natural look?? How do I know you didn't go spend that money on something else, like clothes?" Okay, this conversation leads us to another totally different blog about my relationship with my mom, so I'll basically wrap this up by saying I never got highlights again while living at home.

My next hair debacle was during my early college years. Upon arriving at Beloit, I decided that chopping off my golden brown locks into a Louise Brooks bob was a hot look, and then to top it off, dye the whole shebang dark cherry red with a dye that I mixed myself from Sally Beauty Supply products. Yeah, it was foxy, for sure. Well, it was the early 90s, for cripes sake. Just watch "Saved by the Bell: The College Years" if you don't believe how hip and trendy I was with my cherry cola hair. I'd insert an old college photo here to prove it, but Blogger is not playing nice with me today and won't let me insert a photo in the middle of my blog, so that sucks.

Oh, and I recommend DO NOT mix your own haircolor. It is a pain in the ass, and you aren't even getting paid to do it like your stylist is, so stick to Salon Walgreens, as I will later reveal as my personal haircoloring secret.

So I kept the cherry red bob for quite a while, but then later in college I started growing my hair out, and by the time I left college to move to San Francisco my hair reached the middle of my back. After it got so long, I couldn't seem to mix the right amounts of hair color, so I was a Salon Walgreens convert from that day forward -- forget the whole Dr. Frankenstein mixing lab and color cooking in my bathroom. Pre-mixed hair color is where it's at, people! As we all know, I am lazy and impatient, and kinda a cheapskate when it comes to spending money on myself, so $7 for a box of haircolor that I can do in the shower is a total steal!!

My hair coloring odessey began with auburns and light auburns, dark auburns (too cherry for this budding professional receptionist!), and then finally I got sick of red all together. After almost 15 years of dying my hair some form of red, I decided that I was done. By now was 2004 and I'd had enough of being eclectic and funky. I just wanted to have my old brown hair back!!

Can I just tell you? FORGET IT. My hair was NOT going to forgive me for all the years of torture. "You want whaaa? To go back to my original shade?" I can imagine my hair screaming (okay, if hair could talk. I don't think it can, though, but sometimes I'm not sure) "Are you effing KIDDING ME? We don't even remember what that shade is, dahling!" So like knights chasing the holy grail, I am still searching for the perfect hair color shade that will return my hair to the color nature gave me.

I've tried "Brown", "Light Brown", "Golden Brown" and even "Ash Brown". I've tried Nice n' Easy, L'Oreal, Feria, and Garnier. It's impossible. Nothing works to bring me back to the land of plain ol' brown. Well, the color's not horrible, like my hair turns green or anything. But it's always RED in the end. Some shade or glow or highlight or undertone of red always shines through in my haircolor. I could never get a dirty brown again if my life depended on it. But I'll never stop trying!! I might even shave my head to get back to my natural color. Uh, on second thought, that would be a no. I am waaaay too vain for drastic measures. :)

Have you ever dyed your hair? What made you do it? Do you love it, or are you now a slave to the 6-8 week routine? Join the club, sista!

I have a peeve, and it's not my pet

What I'm Listening To: Pretty Green by The Jam

Question: What is the point of basting shut a jacket or overcoat's back vents? No one seems to know that this basting thread should be removed before wearing a new garment.

Answer: To annoy the bejeezus out of me, Abigail Reagan.

You know, there are some things in this world that just make you roll your eyes and utter "Eegaads!" For me, I'm set off by seeing someone wearing a jacket with its back or side vents still held together by the original manufacturer's basting thread.

Okay, so here goes (cover your ears if you want):

HELLO, PEOPLE. WHEN YOU BUY A NEW JACKET, AND IT HAS VENTS ON IT, SOMETIMES THEY ARE BASTED TOGETHER BY THE MANUFACTURER TO AID IN SHIPPING. CHECK THE VENTS BEFORE YOU WEAR IT, AND IF NECESSARY, SNIP THE EFFING THREADS, YA ASSES!!!!!

Ahh, that felt better.

I cannot TELL you how many times I have seen this in out in the wilds of Wisconsin. I have seen it on women, on men, on people who are fashion-conscious and should know better, on people who should know worse, and so on and so forth. I went to a big charity event a couple months back, and the guest of honor was wearing her vent stitches like they were the latest style. How embarressing. It was kinda funny, since she was acting like the sun shone out of her ass, so I didn't bother pointing it out. Ha!

Well, one time I did point it out to a total stranger. Shut up, I couldn't help myself!!! I saw this woman on the escalator at Macy's with her overcoat's back vent still sewn shut. So I tapped her on the shoulder and I'm like, "Okay, I'm not trying to be a bitch or anything here (this approach always works when you have bad personal news, trust me) but your vent of your jacket is still held together with the shipping stitch. You should get that cut off so the vent is open, like it's supposed to be." And she was all, "Thanks!" but in a nice, appreciative way. No kidding. So I guess I get an extra couple minutes in heaven for being so helpful, huh? Yeah, right!!

So what can one do besides have a personal conniption fit as they internally debate whether to mention to a total stranger that they are committing a minor fashion faux pas? I think that maybe this situation could be cut off at the pass by proactive salespeople. When you buy a new jacket the salesperson should kindly remind you to cut the basting thread on the vents, right? That's like the nicest thing a salesperson can do, besides giving you a bigger discount than you deserve. I mean, you would want them to help you wear the latest fashion in the correct way, right? Why not help you prepare your purchase for the real world by pointing out the details that helped them sell the garment to you in the first place? It's just common courtesy!!

But why do the basting of the vents in the first place. Well, yes, it does help in shipping, but I also found out that it aids in tailoring and fitting the garmet to your personal dimentions. When you first put on a new jacket, close it (not button it) to a point where it skims your hips, i.e., very, very close, but not enough to pull or wrinkle. Check the distance between (center of the) lowest button and (inner end of) the corresponding button hole. The inbetween difference is the amount you want the jacket (hips and below) taken in. You can't do this properly unless the vents are stitched shut.

So maybe I should shut up about this now, because really, it's not that big a deal. But seriously, watch people's jacket vents, and see how many times this winter season you see where someone forgot to cut their basting stitch. You will be shocked at your findings, and hey, maybe you'll acquire a new pet peeve in the bargain!

Happy Holidays!