A Tree Grows in Fairmount

2009 is going to be a year of growth and life for me. And Yesterday I got a jumpstart on my New Year's goals and embarked on what I know will be a wonderful and transformative experience. I am going to bring life into this world: I am going to grow a tree. Several trees actually. They will start as small little seedlings in my apartment. With proper love, care, and water they will grow into full-blown trees like you might find in nature!

The particular tree I am growing is called Solanum Quitoense it has a beautiful purple star shaped flower and produces a delcious fruit called the Lulo...a Costa Rican specialty!! I will be testing several methods for growing my lulos. I will start one batch from seeds ordered from the Internets, another batch from baby Lulo plants (also ordered on the Internets), and a final batch from seeds that I intend to smuggle home from my upcoming trip to Costa.

Though the seeds have yet to arrive and these bad boys take a solid six months to grow, I already have visions of me in a big hat with a water can out on my patio tending to my crops. And by my calculations I will be stepping out back to pick fresh lulos for breakfast by July!

Stay tuned for Lulo updates!!

Candy House 08

This creed governs the work my family does every year on the day after Thanksgiving. It is a holiday tradition that rivals anything Martha Stewart can come up with. It is: Candy Houses. But much like any endeavor my family takes, it is done with our own unique style. For one, we can not be bothered with the architectural limitations of standard gingerbread so we, instead, rely on meticulously constructed cardboard frames (as pictured in the "before" photo).

Despite the Better Homes and Gardens appearances of our fine holiday tradition, competition is what drives us to confection perfection. Where some families have warmth, we have acerbic wit. Where other families have support and tenderness we have cut throat competition. Where some families have "at least we're all together" we have I will hurt you if you don't give me back that pez.

Though there was no official judging of the candy houses this year. I had the best house. YAY! I love winning!!!!!

Before
A Work in Progress

The Winning House (oh, and my teammate alex)
The Magical Candy City

Final Dispatch from the Country

Sorry for the dearth of posts lately. I have been frantically readying to move out of the country and re-enter both the city and independent adulthood. As you might imagine, this is a very time consuming process. There are walls to be painted, bags to be packed, and of course U-Hauls to rented. It will be a done deal come Saturday and then I will be able to bring everyone up to speed on the many exciting things that have been going on in my life.

Until then, I will be enjoying one last night in the country filled with dogs, food, family members.

22

There have been a few times in my life when I have spent extended periods of time with 22 year olds. The first came when I was 22. I was living in DC and unconcerned with career advancement. I spent most evenings drinking until things were blurry surrounded by a happy band of fellow 22 year olds. I worked 12 hour days hungover and once arrived to work wearing an ill-fitting sweatsuit which caused the receptionist to confuse me with the cleaning lady.

The opportunity to hang out with 22 year olds came again when I was 25. I was working on a campaign and spent easily 20 hours a day with 2, 22 year olds. I again worked incredibly long hours on precious little sleep and had my fair share of hangovers. It was during this time that I remembered just how good I am at flip cup.

This weekend I, once again, had the opportunity to share the company of 22 year olds. This time it was at dinner in NYC. Said 22 year olds were of the blonde, seniors at the University of Southern California variety. This time though I was not so easily able to join the pack. Instead I was seated firmly on the grown-up side of the table with 3, 30 somethings (one of whom is dating one of the 22 year olds). It was at this end of the table that I engaged (or rather sat silently through) a conversation about credit default swaps and how positively annoying it is when people call them CDSs. At the other end of the table (and a world away) were the 22 year olds. Not an entree to be had between them (though one did risk shame and ostracization and ordered a salad). Though actual dinner was not to be had at this outing there were shots to be ordered...to the table. Fearing crossing to the dark side of 30 and momentarily forgetting how much i hate shots, i was goaded into sucking down straight vodka.

By comparison, 30 can't be that bad.

White Zin

White Zin is underappreciated and ridiculed by most wine drinkers (at least those under the age of 80 and living outside the confines of a trailer park...though there is nothing wrong with being old or living in a trailer). But I think we can all remember a time when White Zin in all of its rosy glory has brought us happiness, comfort, and good times. Its sort of like Green Eggs in Ham: "I will drink it from a box, I will drink it from a jug".

My most memorable experience with White Zin came by chance when I was seated next to a soon to be friend on a flight to vegas. Dreading both the flight and my final destination, I ordered up a drink just as soon as was permissible. Finding there was no Chardonnay or other white wine, my seat mate and I hardly hesitated before ordering up a little bottle of the pink stuff. We, in fact, kept ordering them until there were no more little bottles of the pink stuff on the plane. And that kids, is how a friendship was formed.

I was reminded of this while at dinner last night at a cozy Italian BYOB. Well it was cozy until the entire Penn basketball team rolled in, each with a date carrying card board boxes filled with wine. Not your average liter bottles either. Giant jugs of White Zin placed at the ends of each table. It was going to be a good night for them. My initial warmness toward them faded though when they started chanting each players name (remember, cozy Italian restaurant). Much like at the premiere of Mean Girls I was forced to intervene, tapping the young gentleman behind me on the shoulder and saying "dude, everyone knows his name is Larry now. shhhhhhhh". real cool.

Two Adults and One Student

That's what the teenaged ticket window dude said when my uncle went to buy three tickets for Role Models. I knew family date night was off to a great start. The joy of being taken for a student was enough to erase any sadness I felt about going to the movies with my aunt and uncle on a Saturday night in New Jersey.

Role models won out over Quantum of Solace after a friend of mine had this to say about the latest Bond film "I am not sure if the lack of any real drama in the movie made it boring or beautiful"...uhh pass, Role Models it is.

Role Models with its base humor and cheap laughs once again proved that the New York Times should no longer be allowed to review movies. That liberal, elitist rag has no clue what is entertaining to real, main street, Americans.

You might remember it was that hateful A.O. Scott, in the employ of the New York Times, who panned 27 Dresses (a perfectly lovely film) and then sent me into the 2 hours of torture that was Don't Mess with the Zohan. Well this time it was Scott's similarly out of touch colleague Stephen Holden who tried to dissuade me from a night of real laughs by calling Role Models "the newest entry in the increasingly worn-out 'boys will be babies until they are forced to grow up' school of arrested-development comedies".

Turns out, 'boys being babies" is really f-ing funny sometimes. What part of a using ambien as an aphrodisiac and endless jokes about boobies and other lady parts isn't funny? Loosen up New York Times.

Date weekend with my aunt and uncle continues this evening with a romantic dinner at a lovely country restaurant. Just the three of us.

Damn You Aaron Sorkin

I settled in for my return flight from Chicago on Monday, armed with my laptop and Season 2 of the West Wing to help me through the flight. The West Wing Episodes are kind of like Julia Roberts movies for me, I have seen them all many times but they still haven't lost their punch! I arrived to the airport early and was looking forward to catching an episode before boarding.

To set the scene, the terminal was quite crowded (I had no idea so many people get to the airport with so much time to spare). The only seats available were the ones painted bright red and clearly marked and reserved for "Passengers Needing Special Assistance". There was an open bank of 4 of these seats with not a single person in them. So, I planted myself in the end seat, opened up my laptop, and told myself I could just get up if someone needing special assistance seating arrived. I could feel the eyes on me. The scorn and disapproval of my fellow traveler's based both on their disbelief that I would deprive a Special Assistance person a seat and that they had not been bold or clever enough to sit there first and were now seated next to the eleven year old restlessly rocking back and forth while playing his PSP.

Ultimately, the passengers in F8 broke me. I cracked. After having lost the pyschological test of wills I settled to the floor, precariously perched upon my overstuffed carry-on.

It is from the floor that I watched 2 gunmen try to shoot and kill President Bartlett. It was in a huddled mass at foot-level that I noticeably sobbed and cried as Mr. Sorkin recounted with wit and heart how that happy group of fast-talking politicos met back in New Hampshire to get "the real thing" elected. Once again, Mr. Sorkin reduced me to a tearful mess.

Puppy Porn.

I frequently check the links that people post on their gchat sites. More often than not, (given my nerdy friends) the best I can hope for by following these links is a thoughtful editorial or some clever dig at a republican. But given the many hours I have to spend in front of a computer I click on them anyway. Thanks to Colleen, all of that changed today.

Not since Christian the Lion has something so thoroughly warmed my heart. It's like a little gift waiting for me inside my computer to distract and transport me from a world of cubicles and fluorescent lights into puppy heaven.

Happy Halloween.

This weekend I missed out on the Phillies mayhem here to celebrate Halloween in NYC. Despite a terrific suggestion to go as my male twin Cole Hamels, party dress code requirements dictated that I dress up as a pirate.

What they say about NYC is true, they really do have everything there. My co-pirate and I were able to cobble together a complete pirate outfit in less than one hour, not stepping foot in an actual costume shop. Due to limited resources and options and following modern halloween custom, our outfits ended up being some sort of cross between pirate and prostitute. My pirate skirt, for example, was a random piece of red fabric dug up from the closet and secured around my waist with 2 safety pins. It barely stood up to a mild breeze and certainly would not have been sea-worthy.

Dressed as sea sluts, we ventured to Brooklyn to partake in the pirate festivities planned for the evening. There were good costumes, great wine, and an impromptu (and in retrospect ill-advised) rum tasting.

Argh.

Cole vs. Carly

The other day at work the dude who sits in the cube behind me (you know, the one who loves oBAMa, all things American Idol, and most recently the Phillies) asked me whether or not anyone had ever told me that I look like Cole Hamels. I looked at him quizzically (as I often do) and was ready to dismiss the question as crazy talk. I responded in the negative yet he persisted "No, for real, like, he could be your brother or something. Seriously, where were you born? You born in San Diego?".

Turns out crazy cube dude had led off what would be a string of people telling me how much I look like Cole Hamels and wondering if we were of relation.

Not trusting the mirror, I looked into the photo archives to see if there was a likeness. To my dismay, I am no longer baffled by these questions. I look like a dude. Judge for yourself:

Cole Hamels in a dress?

Carly Pumpkin in a Phillies costume?

Maybe if more than 7 people read my blog I could get tickets to the world series or at least be featured on the local news.

Race update

I know you all have been waiting with bated breath to hear how the race went last weekend so I am here to report that it could not have gone better. I finished WELL under the one hour mark and positively SMOKED a 75 year old arthritic woman right before the finish line. More importantly, a good time was had by all and I was able to celebrate my victory with a bloody mary.

Below you will find some highlights. My race partner/future accomplished photographer captured some truly spectacular action shots. Please note the look of utter exertion on my face, races are no joke.

Which one of these is not like the others? That's me entering stage right after and abrupt U-Turn to run a few paces with the leaders. Those guys aren't that fast.

If you like 5Ks put your hands up.

Nick and I off to a solid start. Look at how we are breaking away from that sickly looking child. Taking an early lead was key to our race strategy.

Taking some time to take in the autumnal displays. That's me showing some love to a scarecrow perched mightily upon that giant mailbox.

Today I became a true Democrat.

I donated to NPR.

As I have mentioned in previous posts I have a committed relationship to NPR. We start our days together most every morning. I often check in with NPR throughout the day just to see what's new. But like most relationships, it could not stay casual forever. NPR, feeling some level of insecurity I imagine, had begun entreating me to define our relationship in more concrete terms. NPR demadned that I quantify my love and committment. So in order to make NPR happy and more importantly to get it to shut up and stop shilling for my dollars instead of giving me "Marketplace"; I solidified my committment and pledged my support.

I think this completes my repentance for voting for W. in 2000.

You might not believe this, but i can run like the wind blows

The above statement is perhaps a bit hyperbolic. Although I will say things like "I went for a run this morning" or "I am going to go for a run", the more appropriate (read: truthful) phrase is probably "I am going to go out for a brisk waddle later". Though I am not fast and really can't run that far, running is one of my favorite physical activities. It is good for all sorts of things like preventing me from becoming a contestant on the Biggest Loser, clearing my head, and getting me outside. Here in the country I have been running quite a bit, so much easier when there are not homeless people in your path and the dogs are an added bonus...often playing the role of personal trainer and glaring at me when I lag too far behind.

Next weekend I am taking my running show on the road to Delaware. Technically, I will be running in a race. Please do not let that title give you any ideas about my speed or visions of me triumphantly bursting through the finish lane. Usain (not hussein) Bolt I am not. In fact, I run not one second faster during a race than I do on a casual sunday run. The last race I entered I finished well behind a 70 year old dude though comfortably ahead of a pudgy middle-aged woman with a bandaged ankle. Added bonus of this run is that I will be pushing my physical limits for a cause, check it out (and DONATE if you are feeling so virtuous).

Baseball and such

Driving into work this morning my friends on NPR told me that it looks like the Phillies might make it to the world series! I have to say this kind of snuck up on me! What with the global financial crisis and my not liking baseball that much I hadn't realized that Philadelphia (with its history of crushing sports defeats) was about to get another shot at glory.

As anyone in Philadelphia knows, the city is championship-starved. We have professional teams in all the major sports and not a single championship in ANY of them in over 20 years (I realize the Philadelphia Soul just won, but I am leaving them out of this...at least until Bon Jovi follows through on that free concert promise). The last time the Phillies even had a shot at the title, I was still wearing head gear to bed at night (i.e. the good old days).

I am really excited for the Phillies and for Philadelphia. When I was maybe 3 or 4 I remember I had a Philly Phanatic birthday cake... so I can say with confidence that, although my dedication may have waned recently, I am a longtime Phan!

Update from Cube World

The fellow in the cube behind me...you may remember him for his love of cell phone tunes and American idol...is currently asleep at his desk. Dressed in his brighly colored zoot suit and bright white basketball sneakers, he is in full recline position in his chair. snoozing.

If only I could find a way to tent my cube, I bet I would really enjoy an afternoon siesta.

I hope he isn't dead.

Feel the Burn

When I was in college one of the soundtracks that marked my senior year was a mix CD distributed by a local DJ auspiciously named DJ Toad. The Toad CD was perfect in its versatility. We put it on after class for drinks on the porch swing. The same tracks could then carry us through to getting ready and would be there waiting for us when we stumbled (or ran) home seeing double and speaking at unacceptable volume levels. One could argue that this is the preferred state to listen to J.Lo and Ja Rule duets.

I thought of the perfection and versatility of the Toad mix recently when trying to compile a new workout mix. Of course, now, a mix is really an iTunes playlist, but the same challenges remain. It has to be something that can fit a variety of occasions (the days you feel great about working out AND the days that it is a true battle to get yourself through the doors of the gym). It also needs to stand up to repeated playing without losing any of its potency. The perfect workout mix is up there with a great pair of jeans or a delicious wine under $20...essential and basic but really tough to come by.

So here is my latest incarnation:

This playlist will have to last me awhile...I just found out TI won't be making anymore hits for about 12 months while he serves out his jail term stemming from weapons violations...

JK

Ummm, please disregard the last post. I will be in the country until further (and hopefully final) notice.

9.

This weekend I found myslef a little pumpkin patch in the city. It is small but nice and in a great hood. Anyway, big apts are so 2007, everyone knows that in this time of economic and environmental crisis small spaces are the way to go.

The discovery of this new pied a terre also signals the approach of move #9!! I wonder if there is "Frequent Mover" card offered by UHaul that I could get in on? Or maybe they would like to feature me in their ad campaign. I could do for UHaul what Regis has done for Sweet N Low: "Yeah some people say moving sucks and is a major pain...not me. I love UHaul!!"

In addition to meeting my requirements of having a dishwasher and laundry in the building. The new patch also allows dogs! And so begins the search for a commensurately sized pooch to be my new roommate in my petite digs!

Fannie, Freddie, and Twitter

Ummm, what the hell is Twitter? I know that I am not what most would call an "early adopter" but I facebook, gchat, AIM, and helllloooo....I am a blogger! I still, however, have no flipping clue what the Twitter is though. My 52 year old aunt, however, is ALL about it. Between sips of wine and screaming obscenities at John McCain on TV she is twittering through the debate!

I, feeling the need to compete and prove that I am "with it", have pulled out the ol' macdaddy to blog about her activities. My uncle is remaining faithful to his Debate Drinking Game...too busy to blog or twitter!

PS: Is Palin for reals. Her interviews are AWKWAAAAAAAAARD
PPS: I thank you all for checking back to the carly pumpkin blog despite the "recent suspension", as I am sure you can understand there was a financial CRISIS I had to handle.

8.

8 is the number of times I have moved since I graduated college 6 years ago. Putting my economics degree to use, that comes out to about 1.33 moves a year. I have lived in studios, on couches, fancy apts, and have been a squatter with family members. When I moved from DC I remarked, with some disappointment, that my entire life fit into the smallest truck Uhaul had to offer with room to spare.

I have since upgraded to the next level of Uhaul and it was pretty flipping full...not nearly as exciting as I might have expected. I expect move number 9 to take place sooner rather than later but until them i will happily blogging from my country home!

adios

I realize you all may be tired of reading posts about Rafa...funny thing is, I am not even close to tired of writing about him. Yesterday I returned home just in time to watch the remainder of his rain delayed semi-final match against Andy Murray. It was a sad showing and ultimately my rafa was unable to pull it off (maybe i wasn't cheering loudly enough, who knows). That loss marked the end of what has been a phenomenal tennis season for my amigo who is now numero uno.

let's be honest, I wrote this post so I could use this picture and provide you all with this link: http://nymag.com/fashion/08/fall/49256/ (please ignore the ridiculous title of the article).

Whoa.

This may not seem like such a feat to many people but for me I feel liked I just cracked a top-secret code. I got my AIM contacts to appear in my gchat!!! This is one of those times when technology just seems like magic to me.

The internets where I work are very heavily protected (it's amazing I can get to my blog...I consider it a little gift) so I can't download anything-like the application to use AIM. But now I don't need to!!!!!!!!! I can just use my trusty gchat.

Back to the techie part of this. I had heard mention of this IM glory before but dismissed or forgot it...until NOW. In the end, it was as simple as clicking on the "sign into AIM" link on gchat and remembering my password. I, neverthless, feel incredibly accomplished!!

In the Land of Cubes

I have recently begun working in the Land of Cubes. It is a strange place with its own customs, mores, and behaviors. Upon walking through the double doors of the new land, one is greeted by an overwhelming labrynth of metal and fabric squares: the modern day cubicle.

Each of these compartments houses a unique creature who is able to fully come to life inside the cube. Though the close quarters would suggest a need for modesty and discretion to the uninitiated, this is not the law of the land in cube world. Instead, it appears that 3, four foot, walls provide all the privacy and soundproofing one could possibly need here.

Let's take exhibit A, the cube-dweller directly behind me. Judging from this dude's cube decorations, his love for Obabma is matched only by his love for American Idol. The pictorial displayed on the side of his cube is updated daily. This cube-dweller is a busy little bee, frequently leaving his cube...which allows his phone to ring (at full volume) unanswered at least a dozen times a day. Adding to the cacaphony, is his cell phone which even when he is there goes unanswered. In fact, it just rang and he didn't answer it or silence it but rather let it ring and just danced in beat to his ringtone.

That is the way in the Land of Cubes, I suppose.

The Pants

Just when I thought the didn't make quality films anymore a gem like the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 comes along and surprises me. In a surprisingly full theater I sat in the front row with my aunt, uncle, and cousin (great pick jen) and watched as this beautiful film about four young women unfolded before me.

They laughed, they cried, they fell in love and when they would look as though they were about to veer off course I knew it wouldn't be long before those pants instilled some sense in them and they were back on track.

Furthermore, these girls seems to be loaded and are not bothered by the typical constraints of reality. You loose your pants, of course the natural response is to book flights for the next day to go to Greece to find them. I think other films would be a lot better off if the didn't worry so much about plausibility...it's really kind of a drag.

On my list of things to do today after running and possibly while poolside is read the first pants book. With a sequel this good I can only imagine how amazing the original is.

J-Roll

Last night my roommate and I partook in our nation's pastime and went to the Phillies game. It was the perfect night for a game: great weather, great seats, good weiners, and beer (coke for the roommate).

As you may or may not know, the Phillies' star player has been receiving a little heat lately for calling Philly fans "front-runners" meaning, when the team is doing well we are all about it, however, if they stumble the team does not get additional support from the crowd to encourage them, but rather merciless boos and yell from the stands. As my roommate says, those players are there to do a job and need to know when they are not doing it well. I, for one, think I would really respond well to a boss who simply booed me when my work was not the quality it needed to be!

So, in true Philly fashion, the fans did not disappoint last night. Rather than trying to prove J-Roll wrong they acted to exceed his expectations of their "front-runnerness". Every time he was up to bat the entire crowd booed in resounding unison. I said to my roommate "aw, I wish I could give Jimmy Rollins a hug" To which he responded "I wish I could kick him in the dick".

What Would Oprah Do?

Over the last few months, I have perfected the arts of cynicism, whining, complaining, griping, and general belly-aching. My displeasure with my job has given me ample opportunity to perfect these skills. Then yesterday I read this article about a woman who has decided, for one year, to live her life like Oprah. Now, this broad seems totally bat shit crazy to me, but I thought maybe there is something to learn here. What if, instead of complaining for the 1,000th time about the unpleasantness I face at work everyday, I took a moment and thought to myself "What Would Oprah Do"?

Oprah, it turns out, has many tools to rely on during times of stress and uncertainty. She has Maya, Nelson, Gayle, and of course Maria Shriver...all of whom offer some level of Get Better Guru-ness. Luckily for me, Oprah, and her fellow spiritually fulfilled folks put their tricks of the trade on the Internets. Google can show me the way to enlightenment!

Of all of the Oprah-endorsed books that guarantee inner peace, I was most intrigued (much the same way I am intrigued by people who work at Whole Foods with those wooden discs in their ears) by The Secret. This gem of wisdom was penned by a former TV producer, obvious credentials for instructing people on how to live their best lives. The gist of it is: if you think/visualize positive things they will happen. You have to go about life thinking that what you want is already real. That's it, all you have to do is want it enough in your mind and sooner or later it will materialize in real life. The flip side of that, of course, is that if something bad happens to you like say war or an incurable disease than maybe your just weren't thinking enough positive thoughts.

All I can say is I love my new job, puppy, car, and vacation home so much I could almost burst.

Wild World of Tennis

It has been a big week in the world of tennis, I hardly know where to begin. Let's start with the Olympics. Roger Federererer once again demonstrated that the last four years of his supposed tennis supremacy have been nothing but a joke, a facade, a ruse distracting fans from the Nadal's greatness. He blew it, AGAIN, in the Olympics...opening the door (not that he needed it) for my Rafa to grab gold. I realize the Olympics are supposed to be a great time of nationalism and zealotry for one's country, but I think the only way I could have been happier was if I had won the gold myself. As if growing up on a small island off the cost of Spain and making it all the way to Olympic gold wasn't enough: my boy Rafa is finally No. 1 in the world!!!!! Even Michael Phelps realizes this guy's greatness.

Rafa wasn't the only one picking up victories this weekend. My coach and I won our first doubles match on Saturday. Our opponents were tough but with my serve and my coach's hustle they were no match. Our arsenal of skills, tricks, and moves proved too much. Watch for me in 2012 in London. If Dara Torres can do it, so can I!!!!

Up Up and Away

I realize I have taken a bit of an extended hiatus...please forgive me. All of my creative juices have been diverted to other areas lately and this here blog has been the main victim. But I AM BACK.

In the past, I have tried to steer these little posts away from being cynical rants- I can restrain myself no more. The source of my ire is shared by so many it has almost become cliche, but I just can't keep quiet anymore. These flipping airlines have gots to go! I would like to detail here all of things I would like to do to airline executives and the TSA, but I don't need to have all future flights include my being detained endlessly in that plexiglass box.

I was in Chicago this past weekend visiting friends and family which meant I had to subject myself to the mercy of the airline industry (United in this particular instance...but they are all indistinguishably miserable). I remember,when I first started traveling abroad, how there just seemed to be crowds and lines everywhere. And in America things seemed orderly, calm, and easy. Well now I can find that mass chaos of crowds and confusion right here in Philadelphia!! It is no longer possible to be a civilized human on a plane...the stakes are just too high. Whereas, once I would gladly be the last person on the plane to spare myself the rush to hurry up and wait on that little connector thing. Those days are gone!! In order to attain coveted overhead storage space (packed now b/c of baggage restrictions) one must can all that one can to get on to that plane as soon as possible, whatever the cost. This new law of the land was demonstrated by the 50 year old dude who pushed me out of the way to get in front of me for the 8 feet separating me and the ticket agent.

The flight home was no treat either. Thunderstorms in Philly caused a cancellation of my flight and an automatic rebooking on the 6am flight this morning. Great way to start the week!!

The weekend was fun though and I will be back with sunnier posts real soon. Just had to share.

Awww

I realize I am a bit late on getting the scoop on this story as about 10million people have already viewed the video on youtube. The video, of course, is of Cristian the lion. A lion purchased as a pet, set free, and then gloriously reunited with his owners. I wanted to include the video but I can't because youtube is blocked (and I don't know how to put videos into posts). The video's heartwarming qualities should have been mitigated by the Whitney Houston soundtrack that plays...but they were not. at all. In fact, I seemed to really let the water works flow, in step, with that crackhead's crescendo. and IIIIIIIIIIIIII ey I will always love youuuuuuuuuuuu.

I was really touched and happy, then enter my ever sympathetic roommate who approaches the scene, sees me crying and then begins cackling wildly (as he is known to do) and proclaiming the video a fraud. I now have proof that Roommate's heart is black and shriveled. This story and video are amazing.

I have long worried because I just do not think babies are as cute as animals and this video did nothing to assuage those worries. mannnn, do I want a lion.

Mad Men and Mad Cool

Unaware that the series is available On Demand, I filled up my Netflix queue with the first season of the AMC series Mad Men. Even if you had never heard of or seen this show in the last year, you have undoubtedly been hit with the recent deluge of praise being lavished on it everywhere. The style! the characters! The accuracy! Everyone it seems thinks this show is great. I hate missing out on stuff like that, so with no delay, I started watching last night. I made it through the first two episodes (which right there says a lot) and it is good. Not glued to the television like The Wire good, but still really good.

The overt sexism, racism, anti-semitism, adultery, smoking, and day drinking make it a real pleasure to watch. The working world before PC entered the lexicon and HR manuals everywhere. I can't claim to love going to work everyday but at least sexist comments are, for the most part, made behind closed doors.

In my continuing quest to discover emerging blog talent I bring to you If You Got It, Flaunt It
very smart and funny, and the author throws around words like "mad" and "hype" which I really like and would do on this blog if I wouldn't seem like a supreme d-bag for doing so. The blogger also knows how to do cool techie stuff like putting captions under pictures and placing pictures in locations other than the top let hand corner. It's pretty dope.

Go Fish

Today's post comes at the suggestion of a faithful blog reader from Colorado. I am struggling here for a segue into this topic....As if it wasn't uncomfortable enough having non-english speakers spend an hour handling your feet during a pedicure the awkward and frankly strange factor appears to have increased dramatically.

The picture shows a fish pedicure being offered in the DC metro area (kitten, were you aware of this)??. The deal is you plunge your tootsies into the foot bath as normal except, in this instance, it is filled with tons of little carp fish that nibble at your toes and soles, snacking on your dead, rough, callused skin. totally f-ing disgusting. They say this has been done as an alternative because the razors once used for this purpose are now considered un-hygienic by many health boards. I remain skeptical that this is a better alternative! PETA should stop whining about my eating meat and rally around putting an end to this inhumane fish slave labor!

Springrolls Are for Suckas

My culinary reputation suffered a major setback last night. I attempted to make a healthy version of the spring rolls offered by a neighborhood bar...with little success. They were pretty repulsive to look at and did not taste much better. They came up short in the categories of form (totally unappealing), function (gaping holes on the bottom causing contents to cascade out when picked up), and taste (ick). I view this as a lesson better learned in close company than in front of my live studio audience (seats still available, by the way, for the first taping).

In any event, the foulness of my dinner became a distant memory when I checked out this site: www.puslovers.com totally and unbelievably foul. There must be a real sick-o behind this pus-fest.

I'm Back

After a week of sun soaked activities I am BACK!!! (sigh). The shore was great and I was able to darken my skin color by a few shades while my roommate conquered the mighty waves of the atlantic in a kayak. A week of beach, swimming, tennis, reading, and ice cream achieved its goal of fun and relaxation.

A note about the reading part: instead of reading Not Well Advised for school I read The Sex Lives of Cannibals which was far more entertaining albeit slightly less helpful in writing this week's assignment for class. I think travel writing could be my new calling so stay tuned for the carly-pumpkin world tour.

Upon my return from the land of sun and sea breezes I found myself back in may apartment with plenty of the former and NONE of the latter. Our AC is really not up to the task of keeping our place cool when the temperature is 8,000 degrees. So I spent the day as motionless as possible (save for the energy required to fruitlessly call Comcast to get the Tennis Channel added to our package). In the evening, my roommate and I found sweet relief inside the movie theater to watch the Dark Knight. As you know, action films are not really my thing as they tend to be awfully short on choreographed dance routines and Julia Roberts has yet to really break into the genre. The movie was also off to a bad start with a running time of about 2.5 hours. WAY over my typical attention span. At best I was hoping to not be bored. I was not bored. I was captivated, totally mesmerized by the duel for Gotham between Batman and the Joker. Followed it up with Batman Begins last night on TV.

So, that's all for now.

I'm Outta Here

A Convert

I tend to be anti-clothes for dogs. I am a recent convert to being a little-dog fan but have not gone fully to the dark side and embraced canine couture. This aversion is largely attributable to the fact that the dogs I grew up in were too big for my clothes and therefore not candidates for little shrunk down puppy outfits.

This has started to change. Of the many great finds that Target's dollar shelves have to offer (the makings of Fiesta in a Box for example), we found a truly spectacular treasure there over the weekend. A puppy parka. Parker DESPISES the rain. He sits down and refuses to budge (not much of a fight given his small stature) but mentally he is fighting all the way. For a pooch who tiptoes around puddles, he would certainly risk the pain of holding it rather than being drenched on a walk. It could be his fear of being wet or he might know that he looks more rodent than canine when wet and his vanity gets the best of him. Either way, the parka we found has a hood and a clear visor and everything. We need some velcro and bungee cords to make it stay but I know it is going to be a hit!

Then J.Crew with its crewmuts!! it's ridiculously overpriced and actually costs more than the people version, but if Parker plays his cards right he could end up with a J.Crew wardrobe to match mine. And, NO, i will not be embarrassed or ashamed that my dog wears clothes.

my day off: kitten, meat, and weeds

I'm back. I took the day off yesterday for various reasons, one of which was to rest and under my strict definition of the Sabbath that meant no blog either.

My kitten paid a visit during a stop-over of her old-time rail tour of the keystone state. We went to Lolita and dined from a fixed price menu titled simply: meat. meat. meat. (moo). Delish! We washed it all down with blood orange margaritas. My roommate was there too and he seemed to enjoy the meat but his alcohol-free watermelon margarita almost surely put him off drinking for another 28 years. He actually said the taste of that made him lose respect for all drinkers. harsh, I think.

The evening was followed by a nice day at the pool (i was shocked that I was not the only one there...who are these peeps who get to hang poolside on a tuesday? and what do i need to do to get in that club?) and a dinner prepared using ingredients from my organic vegetable subscription. One of the goals of getting this subscription was to cook and eat new vegetables (you don't get to pick what is in your shipments). Well, this week that meant dandelion. Yes, the weeds that grow in gardens. I followed the cooking directions I found on the internets and the taste was what I imagine poison tastes like. After prolonged gagging with the offending weeds in my mouth i finally made my way to the sink to spit them out and start the painful process of forgetting it ever happened. Those dirty hippies must be REAL high to eat those things.

In other news, I am not even finished the article yet but already this is one of the most disturbing things i have ever read.

I Can't Believe I Did It.

I cheered Rafael Nadal all the way to a Wimbledon Victory. It took me nearly 7 hours but I did it. My throat was hoarse and my head hurt from the sound of my own shrieking voice, but he won and it was all worth it. I screamed "vamos" and threw fist pumps in the living room more times than I am comfortable admitting. My roommate even helped out with shouts of "bailamos" or "let's dance".

Reading the papers this morning people have called the greatest match in Wimbledon history, a classic. For me it was just magic, watching that little monkey scurry, leap, swing, and scream for 5 hours across that court.

Normally, I always feel badly for the losing team, to the point where it measurably detracts from my joy for the winning team. I think about how much it must stink to go home that night and how crabby and unpleasant they must be the next day. I read this quote from Federererererer "Probably my hardest loss, by far; I mean it’s not much harder than this right now...I’m disappointed, and I’m crushed...This is a disaster. Paris was nothing in comparison". I felt nothing but sheer joy that those words were coming out of RF's mouth and not Rafa's. This victory has really changed me. VAMOS!!!

God Bless America and the 4-day workweek

As soon as i put in my obligatory hours at work I will be headed for a long weekend in the country. Going for weekends in the country is like being at summer camp but with wine and better food. This weekend will be no different. My aunt and uncle will be playing host to my roommate,parker, and me as well as a rotating cast of other visitors. We are expecting my sister (her b-day too) her husband, amanda, jordan, brie and rossome...in addition to country residents (various aunts, uncles, cousins, and dogs). Many many campers to play with!!!

Already scheduled are pool time, tennis (no lynnie vs. pumpkin rematch yet...i need to be ready), fireworks, yummy yummy meals, and last but not least Cheetahrita mix-off: take 2. The cheetahrita is perhaps the worlds most delicious and satisfying blended drink. It is refreshing and sweet (in a non stomachache-inducing way) with a sizable punch. So far, this delicious libation has been issued in a very limited release and getting your hands on a glass of one typically required a trip on NJ Transit. So this weekend, with all of the experts in town, we are going to perfect the recipe and make plans for broader distribution.

Google, what??

This day is totally ending on a high note. I just checked my google analytics report (I know I usually check in the morning but I didn't think it was worth it since I hadn't posted yesterday: WRONG).

After parsing the data (I take this very seriously) I noticed a spike in the "referring sites" numbers. Meaning the number of people who have found my blog by searching for it (intentionally or not).

A while back I tried out some techie stuff and did something like "registered" my blog to be searchable on google..turns out it WORKED. unbelievable. I realize you may need a magnifying glass to see the proof, but just trust me...or google it for yourself.

A Change is Gonna Come

Here is a recap of yesterday (since there was no post from me to keep you otherwise informed).

7:30am: Alarm sounds with digital melody of "Big Poppa" from Notorious B.I.G. This actually serves as more of a reminder than a wakeup call as Parker has already sat on my head and licked my eyes at least twice at this point.

7:30am-8am: Breakfast and daily grooming

8:30am-5:00pm: Work and simulated work activities

5:30pm: Walk Parker

6:00pm: manicure

6:30pm: Whole Foods

7:00pm-7:30pm: make dinner

7:31pm-7:34pm eat dinner (I was REAL hungry)

7:35pm-10:00pm: clean apt, do laundry, look at facebook, walk Parker again

10:15ish bed.

Are you still with me? Have you died from boredom? Recounting this day is almost as boring as experiencing it. I write all of this to say: I need to kick things up a notch. Answering the question "what have you been up to lately" with a heart breakingly honest "ehh, not much" is not cool. I have a few things (trips and such) lined up for later this summer. But until then I am going to actively start trying to be more entertaining to myself (and by extension to the blog readers). I don't know that I will start base jumping, smoking crack, or walking through North Phillly on my way home, but there will be more excitement and enthusiasm in the day to day! I will not be 24 forever and so I need to carpe diem while i can!!!

suggestions welcome.

Stars and the Moon

Stars and the Moon. That was the name my friend Rachel and I gave to a boy a grade above us in grade school. His birth name is Aaron Star, but with our clever code we could talk about him (as he was the object of my affection) without him having ANY idea. The crush was incredibly short-lived, in fact not sure it lasted much past us coming up with the cryptic code name. Anyhow, he went off to boarding school and I moved on as well.

The summer after my freshman year in college I lived in the Outer Banks with some friends. I had an ill-fated job as a kayak instructor which had the huge upside of cash tips which could be given directly to my "of age" downstairs neighbors for beer. One day at work, who do I see? Good old Stars and the Moon, Aaron Star. We chatted a few times throughout the summer and that was pretty much that.

Fast forward to present day, I live in Philadelphia and see this kid everywhere!! Walking to work in the AM, at the train station, on the street. Last night we saw him when we were sitting outside eating dinner and then AGAIN on the way home. After having already had one chance encounter with this kid I feel like another would be too much and too awkward for me to handle. So I hide, turn away, or cover my face whenever he walks by. Not too different from when I was in 7th grade and had a crush on him.