Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Baseball Like/Don't Like

The post-season is upon us and I feel like it is time for a little lesson in Baseball Like/Don't Like. I'm feeling really great about this post-season for many reasons:

1.) The Dodgers are in it.
2.) The Yankees are not in it.
3.) The Angels are in it.
4.) Every other team in it, with the exception of Tampa Bay, I like (I'll explain later about TB). Even the yet to be decided ALC is great because I like both the White Sox and Minnesota. Although I'm rooting for Minnesota.

Let me explain.

There are teams that I love (The Dodgers, #1 in my heart 4-ever; followed by the Angels) and then teams that I hate (the Yankees, the Giants, the Braves). But then there are all these other teams that for whatever reason, I either like or I don't like based on a myriad of factors.

In general I like to stick with the National League because they don't have the designated hitter. The DH is for sissies. I also like to stick with teams that have been around for a while. I am very suspicious of teams who were created during my lifetime, like the Diamondbacks. And I don't like teams from Florida. Or Texas. Or other parts of California. If you're keeping score that's 3 strikes for Tampa Bay (AL, new team, Florida). I also don't like the Padres just for the fact that they have changed their colors a few times and are now using blue and white. I would like to point out to the Padres that there is already a Southern California team using blue and white. And I would like to point out to the Angels (even though I'm a fan) that there is already a Southern California team using LA in their name.

I like to root for old-timey teams like the Pirates. Or teams that haven't won a World Series in a long time, like the Cubs (It's just a shame that the Dodgers have to stand in their way this year. Sorry Cubs.) Or the scrappy underdog. Or enemies of enemies like Boston. Or teams from funny places like Minnesota (for some reason Minnesota seems totally hilarious. I think it's their accent. I spoke with a gal from there on the phone this morning and she kept saying, "Okay" with a really thick accent and it had me rolling.) Or who's on the team - there was a time a few years back when I liked most of the players on the Yankees and only hated the team out of principle. And then there's always the gut. If I like a team, just because, then I think that's a perfectly valid reason to root for them if none of these other factors come into play.

So, once the Mets were out of the running (I also don't like the Mets...just because.) and I saw the match-ups for the post season I felt really good about October. I can root for all the teams, once Tampa Bay goes back to Florida, and be happy with whomever wins.You're all welcome to come over and watch a game with me. Bring chocolate. And if the Dodgers make the World Series, be prepared for a big hullabaloo.

* 5.) At the end of it Camille comes home from her mission. Wahoo!

Thursday, September 25, 2008

I would tell you if you looked homeless

Remember that woman I mentioned with the mustache? Well, I neglected to describe other things about her that are crucial to this story. She is a Theater Type Person which means that she regularly dresses flamboyantly. And she has rather wild hair that is held up on one side by a huge clip while the other side flows free. It all makes sense when you talk to her but at first glance she looks a little rough.

So today she was sitting in the lobby while her daughter was being worked on and she was schlumped over in the chair and nodding off a bit and snoring at times and another patient of ours who is German (I mention this because Germans are nothing if not straight forward) was in and she asked for a piece of paper and a pen. So I handed them over and she proceeded to write what I thought was a note to herself. But when she was done she very slyly handed the note to me and it read, "Is that woman sitting over there homeless?"

I looked over at the mustachioed lady and she did, indeed, look like a hobo just trying to get a little nap in a cool place.

Isn't that horrible! Has she no friends? How come her daughter hasn't said anything to her? Should I have told her that she looked homeless and that she should maybe spruce herself up a bit? Or, at the very least, shave?

And let's all do a big blogger hands-in right now that if I look like I make my living digging through trash you will tell me. I promise to tell you. Because we're friends. And if that is not the definition of a friend then I don't know what is.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Things are not right

Things are not right. Not at all. The exact opposite of right as a matter of fact.


1.) I couldn't fall asleep last night until about midnight. And...
2.) I woke up at 4am. As in 4am in the middle of the night. And...
3.) Instead of going back to sleep I decided to go to the gym. And...
4.) I actually went to the gym. In the middle of the night. When normal, happy people are sleeping. Well, I had to wait until it opened at 5 but it was still dark outside, which, in my book, constitutes the middle of the night. And there were people there. Not vampires but real human beings who were chatting with each other as if they always workout together in the middle of the night. And I would like to point out that it was still the middle of the night when I finished my workout. There were still stars in the sky, for crying in the mud. There was just a slightly lighter shade of black in the east.

No. Definitely not right.

Friday, September 19, 2008

Three Things

Three funny things:

1.) All morning I was STARVING. Every time my stomach would growl I would wonder why I was so hungry. I ate a very good breakfast this morning.

Except that I didn't eat breakfast. I made breakfast. I was running late so I made my usual yogurt/berry/granola breakfast and put it in a cup and carried it out to my car and put it in a cup holder and immediately forgot about it. So by the time I dragged myself out to my car to go get lunch, still so confused as to why my stomach was beginning to snack on itself, the mystery was solved by the very distinct smell of yogurt that has been baking in the sun in an enclosed car for 5 hours. Lovely

2.) A direct transcript of a conversation I heard at work:

Mother of Kid Getting Treated: How do I know if he's out of alignment
Doc: Just check his crease.
MOKGT: His crease?
Doc: Yes. His crease. Check his crease. If he's out of alignment his crease will be crooked.
MOKGT: His crease?
Doc: (turns around and vigorously runs her fingers up and down her butt crack.) His crease.
Me: (snort)

3.) I guess this is my week to spot ladies with facial hair because there is a patient that was in the office today with the fullest mustache I've ever seen on a woman. I mean, it looked like she was entering a Magnum PI Look Alike competition. There was no sign of even an attempt to bleach and if she's waiting to grow it out a little to have it waxed she's about 6 weeks behind. Poor thing.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

More Mysteries

I went back to the fair last night (For research, Valerie. RESEARCH!) and while there I realized that I had neglected to share a few more mysteries with you.

The Mystery of the Guy or the Girl: While driving to the fair on Saturday we were stopped at a red light and Katie yelled out "Guy or girl?!" and pointed to a pair of college kids on the corner. One of them was clearly a girl but the other one we weren't quite sure about. She had all the appearances of a girl: hips, chest, long hair, fashionable bag. And she looked really feminine. Except that she had a goatee. Well, more of a soul patch. Or maybe is was a rather unfortunate mole. What I'm saying is that there was definitely a large-ish patch of hair on her chin and it looked like she could have been a guy. For a sec I thought that maybe she was like my friend Shim at Barnes and Noble but then I thought if he's transitioning into a woman then why the facial hair. And if she's transitioning into a man why the tight t-shirt emphasizing the boobs. Such a mystery! We stared at her for as long as the light was red but drove off as confused as ever.

The Mystery of the Chocolate Covered Bacon: Yes. They sell this at the fair. I did not try it but if someone had offered I would have taken a bite. Because I'm tuff like that. And bacon and chocolate are two of my all time favorite things on the planet. The only real mystery is why it took so long to get there. There's no doubt in my mind how it got there though. No doubt two guys were sitting around and were all, "Dude, the fair is awesome. Everything is fried or on a stick. It's like Man Food Heaven." And the other one was like, "Yeah, but there's no bacon." And then Guy 1 was all, "But you can't just sell bacon and it's already fried and it won't work on a stick. How would they make it better?" And then they were both like, "CHOCOLATE COVERED BACON!" And the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders came prancing out and showered Mardi Gras beads and Gatorade over them while Van Halen's "Right Now" played in the background. Or, at least that's how I imagine it happening.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

The Adventures of Rachel Knecht -- Girl Sleuth

Titles and brief plot summaries of future books I plan to write once I turn my life into a teenage mystery series:

1.) The Mystery of the Amway Sellers for Jesus - The apartment across the way from mine appears to be vacant. I never see anyone come in or out. But about once a month a group of people show up, turn on all the lights, open the blinds, and stand around and sing. I always just assumed they were a roving band of beat-niks or something but then yesterday when I was coming back from the laundry room I saw that the lights were on in the apartment and inside was one guy with a guitar and several others with their hands in the air. Okay, now we're getting somewhere...they're a praise team. But then Katie went down to the laundry room a few hours later and reported back that they were now watching a dvd and she thought that maybe they were selling Amway. Mystery! I will solve this case by convincing Flo that I need to get into the apartment (possibly by tossing something valuable onto their balcony - like a tub of ice cream.) And then hide out in a closet until their next meeting, (definitely a tub of ice cream. I could live off of ice cream for a month, right?) and them casually step out with my tambourine once the singing begins and make friends in order to get more information. (Note to Self: Remember to toss tambourine into the balcony with the ice cream).

2.) The Adventure of the Killer Dragon Flies: As I was aging 50 years in traffic this morning I noticed that there was a swarm of dragon flies buzzing above the cars that were not moving on the freeway. I initially thought, "How cute," and was grateful for the uplifting sight because I was about to drive my car off the road and into the Wal-Mart parking lot below (except that I couldn't actually move my car because, did I mention, we were not moving). But then I noticed that they weren't so much buzzing as they were dive bombing. There were probably about 15 of them and they looked a little angry. Probably because they too had to get off on Grand and then found out that the Grand exit was mysteriously closed. I will have to hire a insect loving person to solve this one as I do not like bugs. Oh, and talk to Cal-Trans about the exit sitch.

3.) The Case of the Missing Zipper Foot: I pulled out my sewing machine the other day and discovered that the zipper foot was not there. And as the zipper foot has only one place where it would be my only guess is the World's Largest Collection of Felt got its hands on it and is holding it hostage. But a girl can't wait for a ransom note forever so I went on the hunt for a zipper foot. And no one had one! Where did all the zipper feet go? I know that fancy sewing machines require fancy feet but mine is a pretty standard one and I've seen loads of machines that have similar foot attachment thingies and I just assumed that a place like Joann's Fabric, a store that has a sewing machine accessory wall, would have a universal zipper foot. But none of them did. I finally had to go to the Joann's Super Store that had a Viking outlet (where I kind of wished the sales ladies had been dressed up as actual vikings) and convince them that even though I don't have a fancy sewing machine I still deserved to put in zippers. So they plugged their noses and rummaged through what essentially looked like a trash drawer and found one for me. But that still does not answer what has happened to all the zipper feet. I'll have to contact the Zipper Foot Council of America or something.

4.) The Case of Rachel and the Rednecks. How is it that a booming metropolis like Los Angeles can produce so many rednecks? Or is it the fair that turns otherwise high class people into beer swilling, cleavage exposing, butt scratching, turkey leg gnawing hicks? You know my deep love for the fair. Every bit of it is great, even the hordes of people. But I felt slightly assaulted by the amount of redneckedness I saw there on Saturday. Now it was 180 degrees with a billion percent humidity so I can understand how some girls would think it appropriate to dust off the old tube top. But Knights of Columbus I saw a lot of cleavage that day. I'd like to blame Fontana but I think I will need to go back to the fair to get to the bottom of this. And possibly ride the Big Yellow Slide a few more times. You know...for research.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Keep them away from the knife drawer

Dear Man Who Saw the Look of Horror/Disgust/Confusion/Panic on my Face Yesterday Somewhere Near the 210/57 Interchange in Glendora,

That was not meant for you. I'm sorry that I scared you.

You should know that I don't really like dolls. I've never owned a Barbie or a Cabbage Patch Kid and I have never been able to understand why people like them at all. They just sit there, staring at you, probably plotting to kill you in your sleep.

So, you can understand why hearing this on NPR yesterday would make me have that look. I'm sorry that it happened just as I turned to see if the lane next to me was clear and there you were, staring back at me. You can't tell from the transcript so maybe you should listen to it, because you will want to hear the tone of voice these women use when talking about their dolls - like they have shelves of scrapbooks dedicated to them. Right next to the shelves of crazy pills.

Again, my sincerest apologies. But by now you understand.


Tuesday, September 9, 2008

10 to 15 samples of ice cream

I went down to the Fam's house on Sunday for the usual hamburger/popcorn fest (with a bonus of the Folks from the North showing up on the computer. (Fact: Nephews look just as cute on the web cam as they do in real life. But kissing their faces on the computer screen is not nearly as rewarding.)) and before dinner my mom said, "Did you hear that Bert & Rocky's is closing."

Baby pandas burst into tears. Angels fell from the sky in despair. A lone unicorn died with a heavy sigh. And my heart broke in two.

She quickly amended her statement and said that just the Upland shop was closing but the Claremont shop would still be open. Phew! Only the baby pandas cried for that.

But I'm still sad. Because Upland is my shop. Ah, those many, many nights when Amanda and I would be sitting at home and one of us would say, "I want some ice cream," and without even needing to say anything else we would get up, put our bras back on and head down to Bert & Rocky's. THAT'S HOW MUCH WE LOVED IT. We would walk in and say hi to all of our favorite scoopers and chat with the owner and sample 10 or 15 flavors. Then we'd both inevitably settle on chocolate orange and head home and watch Gilmore Girls.

The Claremont shop is only just a little farther away and it still has all the same flavors but it's more cramped and it's harder to find parking in the Village and the flow of the ice cream counter is bad (it's like an entire case is hiding behind a bunch of tables) and it's just not the same. Wah. But have no fear, Bert and Rocky's, I will still come and sample 10 or 15 flavors before getting my chocolate orange. I love you. Enough to put on a bra.

Thursday, September 4, 2008


Dear Rachel,

That warning voice, the one you hear in your head every time you are about to say something that will get you into a sticky sitch, the one that comes with sirens and flashing lights and railroad crossing gates coming down and little green army men screaming orders at you, it's there for a reason. It is yelling at you because it knows that the reason why you don't talk about politics with people who do like politics in general and their political party specifically is because those people generally have very distinct ideas about politics and they're not exactly willing to hear your side of the story or really even give you a fair and unbiased reason to listen to theirs.

So please stop talking.

Do not get into it with a person who's views make you look like a tree-hugging, granola-munching, paper-recycling, hairy-legged liberal (in a bad way). Even though you do love trees and you had granola for breakfast and you have been known to recycle and you didn't have time to shave your legs this morning but you're wearing pants so it's no biggie, you're conservative enough to recognize that when someone essentially calls you that, it's meant as an insult.

And do not take it personally that you are called an ignorant sexist when you remarked that it was your personal belief that when a woman decides to have 5 children her first priority should be with them and that possibly having the second highest office in the nation may be a little too distracting, even though you were clear that it had no bearing on her credibility as a leader, or her right to seek after that office, nor would it sway you in choosing whom to vote for. Because you haven't made your decision yet and you were just stating your own personal feelings on the matter, which, let's face it, was a HUGE mistake.

And do not think less of a person for comparing a presidential candidate to Hitler and saying that he associates with "terrorists and Muslims." Everyone is entitled to an opinion. Even bigoted.

Just be kind to people and laugh at their foibles because you have plenty of them too, and we all know how very opinionated you are and how somes times you can be too bold. But most importantly keep your mind open and your mouth shut. Especially your mouth shut.

Hugs and Kisses from Your Pal,

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

What's that I smell?

Dear Neti Pot,

I love you.

This morning I woke up for the first time in...um...hold on while I do the math...MY ENTIRE LIFE without being congested. I've only used you once and already your magic is working. Your sweet, beautiful magic.

At first I was a little turned off by the concept of you because, really, that's gross. Warm salty water up and out the nose? Ew. But I'm a believer now, honey. I'm a believer because I wasn't joking about the morning congestion. Every single morning. For 33 years. 33 years of sounding like a man in the morning. Not to mention the whole not being able to breathe part.

But this morning I woke up with the smell of victory in my nose. Victory over impacted sinuses. And you know what? It smelled good.

Hugs and Kisses,