Political Quarters?

 

It's D.C. day here at Delusions of Grandeur.

 

I've always been amused by D.C. license plates, which say, as you can see above, "Taxation Without Representation."

 

But, apparently, trying to put that on their "state" quarter didn't work out so well for them. The U.S. Mint rejected the idea today. Though I especially like the comment that suggests putting the Boston Tea Party on the quarter. And then they could use the old Snapple bottle illustrations. Who remembers those?

 

 

I'll Take Rats With My morning Coffee Any Day

 

After spending many summers in D.C., I wholeheartedly agree with this rant against the D.C. Metro system and their subtle (?) jab at the NYC subways.

 

"Washington's system may be rat-free, but its subway map also has all the sophistication of Fisher Price." Indeed.

 

And not being able to drink your morning coffee on the Metro seriously stinks.

 

Though, I would note I am skeptical about the pigeon article linked. I often frequent the Far Rockaway a train stop, and I don't think I've ever seen a pigeon take the A train. 

Here in This Paper Bag

"But someday we'll all be old
And I'll be so damn beautiful"

 

I've always been a bit self-conscious about the way I look. I won't go outside without eye liner and some attempt at making my hair look decent. I spend a lot of time picking my clothes out in the morning and obsessing over the right shoes, etc. And I won't feel self-confident if I don't feel that I look nice.

 

A character flaw perhaps, but true all the same.

 

Anyhow, I have a specific feature that never used to bother me but has started driving me insane lately. It bothers me every time I look in the mirror and has started making me really self-conscious.

 

(I'm not naming the feature because I don't want those of you who actually know me to spend time staring at it now that I've called your attention to it. So, yeah, stop trying to figure it out.)

 

I've decided I want to fix it. (Note: this does not involve plastic surgery or somesuch thing.) Only thing is, fixing it is really expensive. It's money I have (probably--there's a chance that it could be so expensive that its affordability would be a stretch), but, well, it's a lot of money for something purely cosmetic.

 

Part of me feels silly caring so much. I mean, I don't think it's had any negative effect on anything I've ever done, but lately it makes me feel so ugly.

Best Correction Ever

Find it here.

The Field Notes column last Sunday, about the influence that destination weddings are having on bridal gown design, misspelled the name of the country in which Katherine Farkas plans to marry in July. It is Colombia, not Columbia.

And, yes, I am dorky enough to have a favorite correction. But, in my defense, I am clearly not the only one. This Web site is dedicated to corrections. And this is a whole book on corrections. (Best one: "In yesterday's issue, The New York Times did not report on riots in Milan and the subsequent murder of the lay religious reformer Erlembald. These events took place in 1075, the year given in the dateline under the nameplate on Page 1. The Times regrets both incidents.")

So, I'm not the only dorky one out there. I'm not sure how much of a comfort that is.

Going Green = Paying To Not Be Spammed?

This from today's e-mail:

Subject: Go Green with Columbia College!

If you support the Columbia College Fund by February 27, you'll be removed from all of our remaining Fund mailings for the fiscal year. That means no more mail through June 30!

Why is Columbia asking me for money before I have any money to give them? I mean, can't they give me a few years to make some money before they come hounding me?

Also, paying Columbia to not send me junk mail counts as going green? It sounds like a bribe to me.

(Though I would note that since my mail from Columbia goes to my house and I don't live at my house anymore--a fact much contested by my 5-year old brother--really my parents should donate to Columbia so they stop getting junk mail.)

If You're a Copy Editor and You Know It...

Best. Article. Ever.

A Football Player Standing on My Teeth

I grind my teeth in my sleep. I think it's related to stress, though who knows? I do know that I woke up on Sunday night at about 3 a.m. after an awful dream in which I did not get into grad school, grinding away. And I consistently wake up with a sore jaw. I am convinced that I am going to end up without any teeth at this rate--and this is me not so stressed out.

 

This article, which notes that grinding your teeth is "like having a large football player standing on the tooth," is thoroughly amusing. And I must agree with the author's assertion that "Even if I wanted a football player in my bed, I certainly wouldn't want him standing on my teeth."

 

Here's hoping the stress abates (thought a friend of mine recently said she thinks I just like being stressed out--it is generally my state of existence), and I get the football player out of my bed...