The Red Chicken Chronicles

May The Fourth Be With You

Happy Star Wars Day to all my favorite nerds out there!

I enjoy the original trilogy like any normal sci-fi enthusiast, but I would be doing a serious injustice to the true fanboys out there by proclaiming myself as anything more than a casual viewer. Basically, I don’t own any of the films, but gladly tune in if I’m bored and they happen to be airing on cable. Star Wars fans are hilarious, though, and I greatly enjoy their enthusiasm for and commitment to the rebel alliance! Bless you all, I hope you enjoy marathoning through the trilogy tonight.

While the sacking of the death star is certainly something to celebrate, the world of non-fiction is celebrating the death of a different enemy. I dozed off fairly early on Sunday evening so I missed the big announcement. After waking up I went through my typical morning routine, remaining totally ignorant for the majority of it. It wasn’t until I got to my computer and signed onto Facebook that I noticed something was awry. Almost every status was related to American Pride. Lordy, I thought. What possibly could have happened?

Did Memorial Day come early this year?

Had all of my friends turned into country music fans overnight?

Eventually the scroll bar revealed that Osama Bin Laden had been killed. I quickly left facebook, seeking out the comfort of assurance from legitimate news sources. Social media has it’s merits, but with this sort of news, I needed some professional journalist feedback. I soon found it to be true, the gangly beard-faced villain had been shot dead by a covert squad of Navy Seals.

I took this news strangely. In one moment I was simultaneously proud of everyone I know who has served or is serving in the armed forces (where is that old “mission accomplished” banner anyways?),  concerned for the likelihood of enemy counterattack, and, as an action movie fan, psyched to hear more about the badass details of this mission. And then, for some sick reason, the first thing that came to my mind was South Park.

South Park is one of my favorite shows. I could endlessly rave about the creators for being  smart, edgy and, at times, philosophical with the jabs they take at people who often annoy me. But, the real reason I love the show is because it’s genuinely hilarious and unapologetically offensive. It entertains me, period the end. The Osama drama immediately made me think of an episode from last season where Osama Bin Laden is killed. In the show, the villain is tapped for help by the citizens of South Park who are trying to ward off an invasion by New Jersey  — trust me, it’s hilarious. Anyway, the episode ends properly with the following:

I’m sure the real scenario did not involve an intricately staged thank you ceremony for Osama, but it’s fun to think that the creators of my favorite television show prophesied the end of America’s most wanted terrorist. Let’s just hope they are wrong about the HUMANCENTiPAD, otherwise I’m going to really have to start looking into those incessant itunes updates.

Probably the best thing to come out of this news is the release of the most photoshopable picture EVER.

Please photoshop me!

I understand this is supposed to be a serious photo, highlighting the tense moments in the situation room while the mission was going down, but that’s what makes it so ripe for parody! Aside from imagining all of the possible things I could digitally do here, the image is hilarious on it’s own because there is a guy who looks curiously like actor John Lithgow right in the middle of it! Seriously, scan to find him. It’s not hard. The guy may as well have dressed like Waldo — great photoshopping idea, by the way.

Dexter fans will know Lithgow for his Golden-Globe winning role as the Trinity Killer from season 4. But for me, he will forever be Dick Solomon, the alien “dad” from the late 90′s sitcom 3rd Rock From the Sun. The idea of Dick hanging out in the situation room with the Obama administration is just too much for me. I can barely glance at the above photo without giving into a small fit of giggles. I’m sure the poor guy actually looks nothing like Lithgow, the camera just caught him at the wrong (right?) angle. But I’m just so thrilled it happened that way.

It seems awful, and perhaps a tad unhealthy, that my mind relates every facet of this news into some form of entertainment. I’m sure a good therapist would love to tear the humor right out of my tortured soul, molding me into a serious and thoughtful human being. I could then write long articles describing speeches and events in a proper, analytical fashion, devoid of any irrelevant Terminator references.

Then again, thinking deeply about serious matters? Who needs more of that? For now, I’ll avoid therapy and stick to writing about my twisted correlations on anything serious.

In the words of Mel Brooks, “May the Schwartz be with you.”

Tuff Hugger

“Anybody not wearing two million sun block is gonna have a real bad day, get it?”

So go the wondrous and infamous rantings of Sarah Connor as she warns of the impending judgement day. Not that silly biblical judgement day that fanatics are always ranting about. We’re talking the fictional Terminator judgement day, when computers become self-aware, creating a machine uprising that attempts to wipe out the bulk of humanity by deploying the world’s stock of nuclear weapons onto major cities spanning the globe. That judgement day.

Will somebody please think of the children!

Of course Sarah’s rants go unheard while she is locked in a mental institution, but that bad ass bitch breaks out and helps stop that shit from happening. While it all could have ended there, in 1991, the technology-driven nature of our times could not just let a story like that pass us by. Sure the original date came and went, but it was only delayed, you see. You just can’t stop that technology. The Terminator franchise has been revisited several times since T2: Judgement Day, creating a multitude of new stories, characters and timelines.

According to a reliable source, today, April 21, 2011 is the most up-to-date reference to Judgement Day given in Terminator lore, as suggested by the television show Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles. Apparently Skynet was to have gone live on April 19, just two days before the attack. I haven’t actually seen the show (name is way too long to spell out over and over), but, despite being cancelled after 2 seasons, I have heard some good reviews and am thinking of perusing through it. It’s streaming on Netflix, so what does a girl have to lose? Anyway, it feels good to know that we’ve somehow managed to thwart those wily machines and their fictional Judgement Day once again.

I wonder if the writers were aware that they planned the attack just one day before Earth Day, or was it some sort of stupid coincidence? Either way, it’s a pretty interesting fact to ponder. Was skynet trying to send the human race a big ironic f-u, or was it trying to make an obnoxious save the earth statement by mass murdering the polluting human race? Too many questions, but not enough curiosity to explore them further. Frankly, I just want to see more epic man vs. machine battle.

I was recently amazed by the abilities of the human race. The Tough Mudder in Allentown, PA was one of the most incredible examples of brutish man-strength I have ever witnessed. And that includes all of the hard core lady competitors (they done Sarah Connor proud). The course was about 11 miles sprinkled with 25 challenges.  Most of the running took place in the woods where my fellow spectators and I could not see, which is fine because who wants to watch that anyway? We were provided with a good map though, which told us where the best observable challenges would be, and that is how we planned our day of observation.

It was a bright and Sunny day at Bear Creek, but even the spectators were able to get good and dirty because there was just no place you could go without slopping through mud. Even though I ended up totally filthy, I kind of liked it. It made me feel more connected to the event, like I earned my place watching it.  The mudder looked incredibly challenging. I don’t think I’ve ever run more than 5 miles at a time, and that’s at a nice, slow girl jogging pace, and never with an impressive or long-lasting incline. The participants were running up and down ski slopes for the last two miles, climbing over walls and hay bails and carrying logs. The final obstacle before finishing was titled “electric shock therapy,” which meant running through a series of electrical cords, some of which were powered with a high voltage. The cords hung from wooden beams like jellyfish tentacles. A few unlucky participants would fall in pain, only to feel more electrical wrath from the dangling ends…. what a way to finish.

I remain incredibly impressed with my family and friends who put themselves through this hell, but I am pretty much convinced that I would never be able to do it. The first major hill would leave me out of breath and possibly nursing an intense calf cramp.

Meg, one of my co-spectators and dearest pals felt the same way. We decided to come up with a militaristic fun course in which we would actually thrive. We’d call it the “Tuff Hugger,” an event with lots of extreme hugging. The entire thing would probably be no more than a casual three miles through primarily flat terrain. Naps are encouraged in a sunny field of grass and daisies. And there is an entire quarter of a mile stretch dedicated to shaking the hands and patting the backs of your fellow competitors, in which you exchange well wishes and encouragement for a peaceful world. We would totally rock that course!

Now I’m off for a fun weekend in CT to celebrate Easter with my family. I just can’t wait to see the stars again!

Resist the machines. And above all else, survive.

It’s on!

Last week Watson, the Jeopardy playing IBM supercomputer, payed a visit to Carnegie Mellon. Watson won the less skeptical world over in February when it appeared on TV’s Jeopary!, taking on two of the show’s most formidable human champions. Team human lost, surrendering to the machine’s superior calculated wit. Students and faculty at Carnegie Mellon played a role in developing Watson with IBM so the school was chosen to co-host the computer’s first college match with the University of Pittsburgh.

Naturally, I feared for my life and stayed in my office on the opposite end of campus for the day. It was silly to think that distance could save me, considering my lap top was logged into the same wireless network as Watson. But I remained hopeful that our species would prevail. If anyone could take a computer it would surely be the grade A nerds at CMU. These are the students that on every March 14 decorate the sprawling campus walking path with the never-ending, never-repeating  Π sequence. 3.14… that’s about all most people ever have to know and it’s the only reason why I was able to crack the mystery of why there was a random series of chalk numbers leading me to work that particular day (hint: think about the date). That level of nerdery takes commitment and I respect that. It helped me believe that a team of trivia enthusiasts plucked from this group would be able to reclaim intelligence back from the artificial.

Alas, my hopes were dashed. My nerds lost, and by quite a large amount to boot. The good news is that there has yet to be a campus-wide machine uprising, though I await the impending day when my own computer turns against me.

To counter the human race’s ineptitude in intelligence competitions I am greatly looking forward to my weekend. Friday I am taking a half day to drive North where I will meet up with my siblings and friends for the Allentown Tough Mudder on Saturday. Tough Mudder is a crazy endurance event that puts camaraderie and fun over personal performance.  In no way am I ballsy or fit enough to actually compete in this event, but I definitely support it! My brother, brother-in-law and a friend are competing together and I am tagging along to party and root for their rag-tag team, “I shaved my Balls for this!?.”

Those boys are a classy bunch and will be proudly sporting team shirts with the above logo for the event. Though there’s only three of them, they made a bulk order of the shirts to sell. I opted out of this purchase because I just don’t have room in my wardrobe for another t-shirt without sacrificing my coveted “Make 7 Up Yours” shirt. But the boys managed to find a good base of more supportive friends. My mother ended up purchasing one for my father and neglected to tell him anything about it. When the shirts arrived my father woke up to find this gem laid out on the kitchen table. Ted Blaha is no stranger to crude and often foul t-shirts, but even he was stumped about where he might don this new mysterious article. I was lucky enough to be home the weekend these events transpired and was the one to explain the entire story behind his new shirt. He was relieved to know its origins, but was still dumbfounded. “Where the hell am I supposed to wear this thing?” he asked, slightly mortified. We jokingly came up with a few inappropriate events, the most promising being my niece’s 2nd birthday party.

Though the shirts will likely get little future use, at least the team has a good and moderately entertaining rally cry for when they are entrenched in the insane Tough Mudder course. I will be on the sidelines playing supportive spectator along with my sister, and several good friends. Barring any serious injuries, we intend to stage a hearty after party out and about in the Allentown bar scene to celebrate the team’s success.

I’m comforted by the fact that Watson is incapable of competing in such an event (for now). And there’s no way that computer could hang during our after party shenanigans. Take that machines…

How I spent my Super Bowl Weekend

After a few hours of merry boozing with friends Super bowl 44 finally came to an end. The Steelers lost and everyone went home to weep and sleep. My Sunday evening was spent at the Sharp Edge Brewery in the Pittsburgh neighborhood of Friendship. I did the same thing for last year’s big game. Though, things were very different last year. For one thing, the Super Bowl came the day after a major snowpocalypse hit the city. As a native New Englander, this is nothing new – it snows. The state removes it. Done. Pittsburgh, unfortunately was not equipped for such conditions. Sure, it snows here frequently, but they rarely get more than an inch or so of accumulation at a time. The city essentially closed down for a few days to deal with the burdensome task of snow removal.  Thankfully the local bars and restaurants opened their hearts and doors to the more sociable football enthusiasts needing a place to congregate. The Sharp Edge is very close to my apartment so I trudged through the snow and met a group of friends to watch the game. The bar was not packed. Sure, it filled up a bit, but I had no problems snagging a booth with a decent big screen view. The snow may have played a small factor in keeping patrons home last year, but the bigger issue was definitely the fact that their hometown team was not playing.

This year was a different story.

The hype leading up to the this year’s super bowl was very intense in Pittsburgh. Stores were stocked with black and gold paraphernalia, neighborhood bars required reservations and people were just plain nutty over the possibility of a seventh championship ring (“Knock, knock knockin’ on Seven’s Door” was, by far, my favorite facebook status).  This sort of hysteria is not new to me. I lived in Boston for four years, during which the Red Sox won the World Series … twice. I enjoyed the Boston hysteria because I am a fan. But football? My loyalties lie with the Giants and I didn’t really care which way this superbowl went. I did, however have the urge to participate in any riot shenanigans that happened to take place if Pittsburgh achieved victory. I like to think I’ve come a long way since 2004 when the city of Boston exploded in mass hysteria after the Red Sox ALC win over the Yanks. People went crazy, yelling, climbing and breaking shit.  Boston riot police responded in kind and a college girl even died when she took a bean bag to the temple. I was one of those crazy people, running around like a flaming idiot with a “Believe” sign that was stolen from a broken storefront window. That sign is now framed and hangs boldly in my bedroom.

When it became official that the Steelers were playing in the Superbowl I regressed a little to my former self. I began investigating where the prime riot areas would be, determining that Oakland, the College part of the city, would probably offer the best anarchy scenarios. That’s where I would have to be.  As excited as I was for this, I became less so as game day approached. I started feeling sick and irritable, making my futon seem like the most attractive place to be for the game.

By the time the weekend began I was still sick so I stayed home Friday to rest and recover. As it happens, Friday was the 20th anniversary of Terminator 2 and AMC was kind enough to help me celebrate the release of one of my favorite movies – with limited commercial interruption. I frequently allude to the Terminator in almost every aspect of my life. It is simply one of my favorite stories, and T2 is my favorite of the franchise. I cannot count how many times I have watched this film, but it isn’t nearly enough because I have yet to get sick of it. I remember watching it with my dad and siblings as a kid and loving it without any understanding of the plot. It was more of a comedy to me than the supreme action sci-fi thriller I now know it to be. Aside from The Little Mermaid‘s Ursula, Robert Patrick’s T-1000 is probably the greatest cinematic villain… ever.

Just look at those eyes. Who else could corner the Connors with a glare and a finger wave? The man is terrifying, and with barely any dialog to boot. Personally, I think James Cameron is kind of a dick, but T2 is a masterpiece.

After a great night’s sleep I woke up Saturday totally refreshed, but still not feeling the post-victory riot potential I had once looked forward to. Maybe my lack of utter devotion to the team played a small part. Was I willing to get shot with a bean bag to satisfy my riot lust? Probably not. After much internal deliberation I ended up at the same bar as last year, safely nestled in my own part of town. With the lack of snow and increase in fandom, a bar booth was not available. We ended up at a table in the dining room, watching the game on a big t.v. that had to be rolled in on a cart. The lack of a decent flat screen did not ruin the atmosphere. It was a sea of black and yellow, joyous screams were accompanied with the vigorous whipping of terrible towels when the Steelers advanced, countering the tense silence brought out by any Packer achievement. In the end, the silence went from tense to depressing as Pittsburgh, after gaining so much in the second half, took the loss. Since then there has been an increase in Penguins paraphernalia around town.

While my Pittsburgh Super Bowl experience ended with no crazy rioting, at least I had the explosive action of T2 to absorb my unfulfilled aggression and reaffirm my fear of robots and technology. I’m looking at you, Keepon. You’re adorable dancing and good-natured intentions don’t fool me for a minute!

Happy 2011!

2010 wrapped up nicely for me. My bosses were sympathetic to my post graduate needs and alloted me a whopping three weeks off. I like to think of it as my last winter break ever. Winter breaks are always a special and enjoyable time because of the variety of celebrations going on. First there’s the endless string of Christmas parties, then the actual Christmas Eve and Christmas, and finally New Years. And placed nicely in the  middle of it all is my birthday, December 27th.

My siblings and friends treated me well for my 25th this year. First we got a nice dinner at The Black Seal in Essex, CT. Then we traveled a  few blocks down the road to the famed Griswold Inn for Sea Chanteys. It’s hard to describe the glory of Sea Chantey night. Every Monday a group of gentleman calling themselves The Jovial Crew band together to serenade the drunken crowd with a medley of Irish nautical ditties. As it was my birthday, I was treated to free beverages and even presented with a very special and moderately offensive series of personalized birthday songs from the band. Every girl’s dream! By the end of the night I was hoarse from yell-singing along and red-cheeked from drinking. The evening concluded at my favorite local dive, June’s Outback Pub, where we indulged in some final birthday shots. My brother then dropped me off at my parent’s doorstep where I stumbled around searching for the secret hidden key for a solid two minutes. It was like turning 21 all over again.

The next week my parents hosted a family dinner at their house so that they could shower me with the love and cake I deserve. Birthday cake is very important to me. My demands are simple, but specific. All I want is a plain Carvel ice cream cake with a personalized birthday greeting. Friendly’s is acceptable in a pinch, but Carvel is superior in so many ways. One year some genius dared to serve up a Baskin Robbins cake and it was a disaster. The greatest part of the Carvel cake is the chocolate crunchy bits sandwiched between the vanilla and chocolate layers.

a thing of beauty

It is a culinary masterpiece. Friendly’s achieves this to a lesser degree (I think they just layer it differently), but Baskin Robbins fails because they put actual cake in there. Actual cake in an ice cream cake? Total disappointment. Utter blasphemy. These are just a few phrases that come to mind at the thought. After that travesty and my subsequent years of complaining, Carvel always makes it to my b-day dinner. This year took an interesting turn, however. The cake was purchased ahead of time and safely stashed in my sister’s freezer. When they arrived the cake was left on the dryer instead of the freezer. By the time we cut into that mother it proved a bit melty. And by, “a bit melty,” I mean my father was able to slop it onto our cake plates with a spoon like he was serving after dinner porridge. Melty shmelty – It was delicious and I enjoyed every soupy bite.

The New Year celebration came and went and my break dwindled to a mere week. I tried to soak up my last few days with as much loved one interaction as possible, including a full day of activities with my momma. Alas, by the next Saturday it was time to pack my things and head back to Pittsburgh for my gainful, albeit temporary, full time employment.

I’m currently making money, searching/ applying  for jobs and trying my darnedest to not become a hermit.  Almost a month into 2011 and things are going pretty well.

Always leave a note!

If Arrested Development taught me anything during its three brief yet wonderful seasons it was all of the unique ways to call someone a chicken and to always leave a note — lest my dad hit a pedestrian causing his arm to fall off. After this weekend I find myself reinforcing the latter.

Sunday afternoon I went to see 127 Hours.

First things first, it was a pretty fantastic movie. It was directed by Danny Boyle so it’s got a nice mix of pretty scenery and coked out hyper action scenes. I do not have any climbing/canyoneering experience, but my inner transcendalist/ loner yearns to do all of these things.

Unfortunately, the lone explorer thing doesn’t end too well for the main character. He ends up falling in a canyon, his arm trapped between a boulder and the wall, and because of his independent nature he forgets to leave notice with anyone about where he will be or what he is doing. After 5 days of crazy dehydration hallucinations and failed attempts to free himself he breaks both his arm bones and cuts his arm off with a dull knife. He then secures the remaining stump with any left over supplies from his gear, rappels down a 65 foot cliff and  hikes seven miles until he meets others who are able to call for help. Terrifying, badass, and totally true!

This is based on a guy named Aron Ralston who has since continued to climb, one-handed, all of Colorado’s peaks over 14,000 feet. Damn, is all I have to say. AND, the guy is a CIT alum, majoring in Mechanical Engineering! He may have graduated over a decade before I started working here, but it’s a nice personal connection for me to bask in, however far removed.

I definitely recommend the movie. Sure there is a gross self-amputation scene that may not be suitable for the squeamish, but that’s what eyelids are for.  Just close em’ tight for a minute or two and then return to the enjoyable adventure that is 127 hours.

The movie ended after Aron gets rescued by an emergency helicopter, but there is some nice text over the credits that sums up his life since. I’m paraphrasing here, but the last line is something like, “Aron still does a lot of solo exploration but always leaves a note.” The only thing that ran through my mind after that was an Arrested Development episode where George Sr. tries to teach his kids “lessons” by setting up elaborate run-ins with his armless friend. In one such instance the kids forget to leave a note about needing milk. George Sr. is forced to return to the grocery store with the kids in tow. On the way home they hit a man, causing his arm to fall off. The children scream in terror, only to find out that it was an elaborate hoax.

The moral of both of these tales: leave a note or someone’s going to lose an arm.

Master Writer

Congratulations to me! As of noontime last Friday I am officially a Master Writer. Dash, I have a Masters in Professional Writing from Carnegie Mellon University.

To be honest, the last week was not nearly as stressful as I thought it would be. Two of my classes were already done and over with and all that stood between me and my degree were two final assignments that were already half completed. I could have easily finished them both before the week even began, but that is the attitude of a much less dedicated student than I. No, I decided to stretch out my work. Some may call it procrastinating and normally I would agree. But there was no stress associated with these deadlines. I knew I would make them and I took my time writing and designing the hell out those assignments. Procrastinating? Nay, I was savoring my last week of unpaid busy work.

The deadlines came sans urgency and my assignments were safely forwarded or printed and tucked away into the correct  mailboxes, both digital and physical.

Color me graduated!

Sure, it’s no Ph.D., but I am proud of this degree and intend to own it and openly brag for at least a few months till my impending unemployment begins to weigh in. As of now I am taking on an “externship” at the college of engineering where I currently work. This means that they will let me work full time while they either make me a real salaried position or, more likely, I get another job offer. I quite enjoy working there and I like Pittsburgh a lot, but New England is just so tempting. It will be easier to satisfy those frequent Blaha cravings if I move closer to home, but I’m staying put for now.

Rebekka Blaha, MA

Like the wind-

Well, Thanksgiving is officially over and so is my final break before the next two weeks of academic hell. Currently I am caught between feelings of uber excitement to finally have my MA, and absolute dread over the amount of work that stands between me and that sweet degree. And don’t even get me started on job applications. It’s just way too much for my frantic mind right now.

Before I resign myself to quiet study section of the library for the next two weeks I have some reflections on family, faith and flag to share. Oh wait… is that tagline already taken? Flags are lame anyway, and faith is just too personal and deep to discuss when all I want to do is be snarky. I suppose I’ll limit my reflections to family then and namedrop a couple of friends along the way. And, just to stir things up, I’ll probably discuss my favorite foods. As long as I stay alliterative, I know it will be interesting!

Thanksgiving is a big holiday for my family. We love food, booze, football and tend to enjoy one another’s company so it’s just natural to congregate and enjoy a feast. This year we decided to change things up by eradicating the formal sit-down dinner and throwing a tailgate Thanksgiving bonanza instead. Jealous? This idea has been over a year in the making. My siblings and I originally joked about how cool it would be, but the idea of sacrificing the turkey was just too much for us. My grandma stuffs a mean turkey and we look forward to feasting on it every year. But, still, Tailgate Thanksgiving was just too good an idea. If any family could commit to such a bold and tasty celebration, it would certainly be ours. About a month ago, I received a call from my sister letting me know it was on. There would still be turkey and stuffing, but the traditional side dishes would be replaced by classic tailgating food and we would spend the day eating while roaming around in sweatpants and watching football or family-appropriate movies (my little booger of a niece is now at the age where she pays attention to what we say and watch).

After learning of the best holiday ever I exalted in the idea of going home. Perhaps that’s why the 13 hour train trip was so painful. I normally love trains. It is by far my favorite mode of transportation (other than driving). Sure it takes forever, but you can’t argue with the ample leg room. Also… hello outlets! I could use my laptop whenever I wanted, but I didn’t need to because trains provide their own entertainment. I could spend hours of my time just staring out the window watching the scenery. Even the  totally ganked up areas that pop up as the train approaches urban destinations catch my fancy. However, as meditative an experience the train can be, I was ready to get the hell out of there and get on with my break.

My week home was nothing short of delightful. I bought a new car –  a 2010 subaru forester that I will be paying off for quite a while. I  finished my resume – get ready to fall in love with me on paper future employers! I enjoyed catching up with friends and family – especially my favorite little niece, who is transitioning from being the funniest baby to being the funniest little girl.  I even got to attend a good old fashioned Killingworth party at my brothers house.

My brother is a fascinating chap. I would describe him as a civilized red neck with a snarking wit and a heart of gold.  He also throws some wicked parties. The Post-Thanksgiving feast has become an annual tradition. It usually begins with some target shooting, then a Thanksgiving potluck ensues, and it all ends with a bonfire and drunken shenanigans. My dad was, of course, present. Dad is  a welcome presence at any Blaha party, no matter the average age of attendees. He’s never been that creepy old guy, even though he drives a big white windowless van. Instead he is simply “Ted,” Christina, Joe, or Bekka’s dad who always has beer and a funny new (or old) story to share. He’s a pretty common fixture in our social lives and even has a catch phrase… “It wasn’t like this is Burma.”  Dad’s never been to Burma, nor does he realize that the country’s name has changed. But I would not accept going through a night of drinking next to him without hearing him utter this phrase. Nonsensical and irrelevant? It sure is. But it’s also tradition.

Like his catchphrase, dad is also famous for simply disappearing from a party. One minute he’s there, the next you look over and his white van is gone. He’s like a phantom. Last weekend I happened to be standing in his presence when he decided to make his exit.

“Well kiddo, I’m gonna blow out of here,” he exclaimed, gesturing to his cooler to let me know he was leaving it there for me.

“See ya dad,” I responded, surprised I was getting a heads up. “I’ll let everyone know you said bye.”

“Nah, they know me… I’m like the wind.” He then gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek and walked into the darkness towards his truck.

I don’t know why, but that was definitely one of the finest moments of my week home.

Anyway I’m now back in Pittsburgh. Yesterday I attended my last class and turned in my final academic paper… ever. Next week I have two projects due that are pretty much completed. So close to being a master writer!

Another story on CIT

I just realized that one of my feature stories was published on the CIT website last week and I forgot to share it!

A few weeks ago I was asked to contact one of CMU’s Environmental Engineering Professors. He was honored as this year’s Association of Environmental Engineering and Science Professors (AEESP) ”Distinguished Lecturer.”  Though I didn’t know much about this to begin with, I swiftly found out that it’s a pretty big deal in the Environmental Engineering industry.

The Professor’s name is Dave Dzombak, and I had to interview him through e-mail because he was in the midst of his lecture tour. I initially thought this would be an issue. I always like to interview people in person or over the phone because it is easier to get immediate feed-back from them if I have any questions. But Dr. Dzombak was incredibly thorough and prompt in answering all of my questions. Maybe this e-mail interview method isn’t too bad.

Not having much/ any education in environmental engineering, I can’t say I totally understand what his lectures are about, but they sound super important. After communicating over e-mail with him I can tell he is definitely an engaging person and will have a lot to share with his audiences. Read the article!

RIP Focus

After 11 days of waiting in eager anticipation to hear about the fate of my ford focus, my dearest travel companion, I found out last night that it was declared a “total loss” by my insurance company. I had been hanging on to every thread of hope that the old girl would make it through. “It didn’t look that damaged,” I told myself over and over, thinking only about how refreshing it would be to drive her again when she was all fixed up.

The weekend before Halloween I set out on a little road trip to Philadelphia to celebrate my best friend’s little sister’s 21st birthday. The road from Pittsburgh to Philadelphia is a lot longer than most think it is. Sure, they’re in the same state,  but they are at opposite ends and PA is a girthy mother. It takes about 5 1/2 hours to drive there, but I recruited a trusty travel companion to accompany me for the ride because he too happened to be meeting up with some friends in Philly for the weekend. After 2 hours of driving we were feeling a bit peckish and decided to get off the Penn Pike and pay a visit to Breezewood, often referred to as the “travelers oasis” for its convenient location to major highways and large variety of dining and hotel options. I for one will never refer to Breezewood as the “travelers oasis.” It is an absolute cluster fuck of a town and its heinous road layout and poor signage led to the most stressful week of my life.

While seeking out a Wendy’s for some much-needed travel sustenance I realized I had mistakenly happened upon a turning lane. Wanting to go straight I threw on my blinker and waited for my opportunity to move over a lane. The opportunity never came, and before I realized it the single turning lane became two and the mac truck I was waiting to go by before I moved over turned, clipping my delicate little focus. I managed to drive my car a few more yards to moderate safety before it gave out. Thankfully there were no human injuries, but the focus would never start again.

After dealing with the cops, AAA, a tow truck, various car rental agencies and my insurance company it became clear that we would not be making it to Philly that evening. We took refuge at the Best Western in Bedford PA, right down the road from the Ford dealership my car was towed to, and went to a local dive bar. To fully describe the bar experience we had that night deserves far more literary effort that I’m willing to put into this. I’m thinking up a good short story for it because it was just that peculiar… at least in retrospect. To give you a little taste: locals + metal and country fusion DJ + skunky bottled beer + $2 cover charge + hand art + Yankees losing to the Rangers = one wild night in Bedford. After discovering the bar did not serve any food we only stayed for a few beers and then walked to the Denny’s down the street before passing out for the night.

The next morning I woke up early, determined to get my hands on a rental car ASAP. Unfortunately, Enterprise blows and was either closed for the day or too busy to deliver me a car. I ended up renting a saturn ion for the afternoon from a local vacuum shop/ car rental agency to drive myself to a nearby airport. There I was able to get a longer-term rental from Hertz. My future plan at this point was to make my friend drive back to Bedford with me when my car was good and repaired and return the vehicle to Hertz. After getting set up with a sassy white nissan we decided to not let a silly car accident and one night delay ruin our weekend plans. It was Philly or bust.

It was great to see my friends, even if the ghost tour was a little lame. After a mere 18 hours of Philly fun I retrieved my friend and we returned to Pittsburgh in the Nissan. Still not sure if it was totally worth it, but I stand by my actions.

Last week was stressful for many reasons. I had two huge assignments due, was stressed about my car, oh and my laptop cord started sparking and died, leaving me without a personal computer for a few days, and a few extra after that when Dell sent me the wrong model of cord.

Alright I’m done bitching about my life. Those assignments are now complete, the proper cord finally came in the mail and I now have some closure with my car. Tomorrow I’m driving back to Bedford to retrieve my plates and personal belongings still in the car. My insurance company will take care of the rest.

I’ll return the rental car to a Pittsburgh location next week and use the bus until I go home for Thanksgiving. I’ve already booked a train ticket. Though I’ll always remember my Focus and the good times we had, I’m a little excited to cash in that insurance money and get a sweet new car. I’m thinking the Canyonero is an appropriate choice. In the mean time there’s always the great job search to get started on… a little over a month until I graduate.