THE LAST FIVE ...

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- Wednesday, May 17, 2006

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Music of the moment
- Wednesday, March 1, 2006

Or ... BE RANDOM!


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101 in 1001
American Road Trip, 1998


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Kitty Sandwich
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Sideways Rain
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Velcrometer


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Monday, Jan. 6, 2003 - 5:50 p.m.

Life as an eskimo

I could be a scientist at the multi-national research station in Antarctica, or an usher at Green Bay's Lambeau Field.

I could be a ski instructor in New Hampshire or a sled dog breeder in Alaska.

I could be a forest ranger in Maine or a construction worker in Chicago.

I could be a Zamboni driver at the Igloo in Pittsburgh or a mailcarrier in Minnesota.

I could have numerous other jobs where I wouldn't be as cold as I am right now.

I am � no joke � sitting at my desk at work with my fleece jacket on, contemplating putting on my gloves. I can wear them until I have to type, at least. It is freezing in here, and it's not just a cold office. The air conditioning is on. It, technically, might not be the air conditioning, but when there's cold air blowing out of the vents onto your desk ... you know, if it walks like a duck, etc.

I'm shivering. My nose is cold and may start running soon. Sniffle. The Winter 1991 cover featured on my L.L. Bean calendar ��a wintry forest scene with two deer watching a family of cross-country skiiers trek along a stream ��is inviting. It's one thing for the vents to be spouting cold air, but it's certainly another when you're sitting in the jet stream. Honestly, I think I could walk outside right now and feel warmer, and we're having snow flurries. Outside, not inside. Though I wouldn't be surprised to see some white, flaky stuff fall from the ceilings. And this building is too new to have exposed asbestos.

I'm going to get sick just from the temperature extremes between my sauna-as-a-house and Fridgidaire-as-office.

There are witches with warmer tits.

Sitting beneath the coldest vent as I am, I have heard about a dozen people walk by in the last few hours and say � either to anyone who hears them, or merely to themselves � "Man, it's cold in here." Or something of that ilk. One guy just walked over and started laughing. It's a joke. But the "Man, it's cold over here" comments are starting to wear on me. It's become the equivalent of a stranger approaching you during a hurricane and remarking, "Some weather we're having." No shit this is some weather we're having! I know it's cold in here. Why the hell do you think I'm bundled up like I'm ready for a hockey game?

I try not to be a complainer; I try not to bitch and moan too much. But this is ridiculous. I don't understand this. It seems, with all the moving and renovating in this building to accomodate our magazine, that it was all done in haste, like they didn't think this through. How can you start up a new weekly magazine and not be prepared for it? How can something like the air filtration/heating-cooling system not work properly? And how can the person in charge of such things (or at least taking phone calls regarding them, then directing them to the proper people) not respond to our repeated queries.

They'll learn their lesson when someone walks in here tomorrow morning to find us frozen in place at our desks, as if we were caught off guard by Mr. Freeze.

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