<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7085312708124191695</id><updated>2012-02-16T02:02:02.324-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Rasche of Excitement</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Tuhina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>14</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7085312708124191695.post-8101808528291665289</id><published>2008-06-24T07:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T07:14:12.439-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lists!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Entertainment&lt;/span&gt; Weekly released their 100 new classics for books. Here is the list...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;1. &lt;i&gt;The Road &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Cormac McCarthy (2006)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;2. &lt;i&gt;Harry Potter and the  Goblet of Fire&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, J.K. Rowling (2000)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;3. &lt;i&gt;Beloved&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Toni Morrison  (1987)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;4. &lt;i&gt;The Liars' Club&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Mary Karr (1995)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;5. &lt;i&gt;American Pastoral&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Philip Roth (1997)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;6. &lt;i&gt;Mystic River&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Dennis Lehane (2001)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;7. &lt;i&gt;Maus&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Art Spiegelman  (1986/1991)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;8. &lt;i&gt;Selected Stories&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Alice Munro (1996)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;9. &lt;i&gt;Cold Mountain&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Charles Frazier (1997)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;10. &lt;i&gt;The Wind-Up Bird  Chronicle&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Haruki Murakami  (1997)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;11. &lt;i&gt;Into Thin Air&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Jon Krakauer (1997)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;12. &lt;i&gt;Blindness&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  José Saramago (1998)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;13. &lt;i&gt;Watchmen&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Alan Moore  and Dave Gibbons (1986-87)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;14. &lt;i&gt;Black Water&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Joyce Carol Oates (1992)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;15. &lt;i&gt;A Heartbreaking  Work of Staggering Genius&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Dave Eggers (2000)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;16. &lt;i&gt;The Handmaid's Tale&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Margaret Atwood (1986)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;17. &lt;i&gt;Love in the Time  of Cholera&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Gabriel García  Márquez (1988)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;18. &lt;i&gt;Rabbit at Rest&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  John Updike (1990)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;19. &lt;i&gt;On Beauty&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Zadie Smith (2005)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;20. &lt;i&gt;Bridget Jones's  Diary&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Helen Fielding (1998)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;21. &lt;i&gt;On Writing&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Stephen King (2000)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;22. &lt;i&gt;The Brief Wondrous  Life of Oscar Wao&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Junot Díaz (2007)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;23. &lt;i&gt;The Ghost Road&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Pat Barker (1996)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;24. &lt;i&gt;Lonesome Dove&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Larry McMurtry (1985)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;25. &lt;i&gt;The Joy Luck Club&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Amy Tan (1989)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;26. &lt;i&gt;Neuromancer&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, William Gibson (1984)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;27. &lt;i&gt;Possession&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, A.S. Byatt (1990)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;28. &lt;i&gt;Naked&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, David Sedaris  (1997)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;29. &lt;i&gt;Bel Canto&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Anne Patchett  (2001)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;30. &lt;i&gt;Case Histories&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Kate Atkinson (2004)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;31. &lt;i&gt;The Things They  Carried&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Tim O'Brien (1990)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;32. &lt;i&gt;Parting the Waters&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Taylor Branch (1988)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;33. &lt;i&gt;The Year of Magical  Thinking&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Joan Didion (2005)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;34. &lt;i&gt;The Lovely Bones&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Alice Sebold (2002)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;35. &lt;i&gt;The Line of Beauty&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Alan Hollinghurst (2004)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;36. &lt;i&gt;Angela's Ashes&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Frank McCourt (1996)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;37. &lt;i&gt;Persepolis&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Marjane Satrapi (2003)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;38. &lt;i&gt;Birds of America&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Lorrie Moore (1998)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;39. &lt;i&gt;Interpreter of  Maladies&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Jhumpa Lahiri  (2000)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;40. &lt;i&gt;His Dark Materials&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Philip Pullman (1995-2000)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;41. &lt;i&gt;The House on  Mango Street&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Sandra Cisneros (1984)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;42. &lt;i&gt;LaBrava&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Elmore Leonard  (1983)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;43. &lt;i&gt;Borrowed Time&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Paul Monette (1988)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;44. &lt;i&gt;Praying for  Sheetrock&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Melissa Fay  Greene (1991)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;45. &lt;i&gt;Eva Luna&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Isabel Allende  (1988)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;46. &lt;i&gt;Sandman&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Neil Gaiman  (1988-1996)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;47. &lt;i&gt;World's Fair&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  E.L. Doctorow (1985)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;48. &lt;i&gt;The Poisonwood  Bible&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Barbara Kingsolver  (1998)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;49. &lt;i&gt;Clockers&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Richard Price  (1992)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;50. &lt;i&gt;The Corrections&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;,  Jonathan Franzen (2001)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;51. &lt;i&gt;The Journalist and the Murderer&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Janet Malcom (1990)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;52. &lt;i&gt;Waiting to Exhale&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Terry McMillan (1992)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;53. &lt;i&gt;The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier &amp;amp; Clay&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Michael Chabon (2000)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;54. &lt;i&gt;Jimmy Corrigan&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Chris Ware (2000)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;55. &lt;i&gt;The Glass Castle&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Jeannette Walls (2006)&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;b&gt;56. &lt;i&gt;The Night Manager&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, John le Carré (1993)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;57. &lt;i&gt;The Bonfire of the Vanities&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Tom Wolfe (1987)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;58. &lt;i&gt;Drop City&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, TC Boyle (2003)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;59. &lt;i&gt;Krik? Krak!&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; Edwidge Danticat (1995)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;60. &lt;i&gt;Nickel &amp;amp; Dimed&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Barbara Ehrenreich (2001)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;61. &lt;i&gt;Money&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Martin Amis (1985)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;62. &lt;i&gt;Last Train To Memphis&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Peter Guralnick (1994)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;63. &lt;i&gt;Pastoralia&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, George Saunders (2000)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;64. &lt;i&gt;Underworld&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Don DeLillo (1997)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;65. &lt;i&gt;The Giver&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Lois Lowry (1993)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;66. &lt;i&gt;A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, David Foster Wallace (1997)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;67. &lt;i&gt;The Kite Runner&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Khaled Hosseini (2003)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;68. &lt;i&gt;Fun Home&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Alison Bechdel (2006)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;69. &lt;i&gt;Secret History&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Donna Tartt (1992)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;70. &lt;i&gt;Cloud Atlas&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, David Mitchell (2004)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;71. &lt;i&gt;The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Ann Fadiman (1997)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;72. &lt;i&gt;The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Mark Haddon (2003)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;73. &lt;i&gt;A Prayer for Owen Meany&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, John Irving (1989)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;74. &lt;i&gt;Friday Night Lights&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, H.G. Bissinger (1990)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;75. &lt;i&gt;Cathedral&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Raymond Carver (1983)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;76. &lt;i&gt;A Sight for Sore Eyes&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Ruth Rendell (1998)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;77. &lt;i&gt;The Remains of the Day&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Kazuo Ishiguro (1989)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;78. &lt;i&gt;Eat, Pray, Love&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Elizabeth Gilbert (2006)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;79. &lt;i&gt;The Tipping Point&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Malcolm Gladwell (2000)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;80. &lt;i&gt;Bright Lights, Big City&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Jay McInerney (1984)&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;b&gt;81. &lt;i&gt;Backlash&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Susan Faludi (1991)&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;b&gt;82. &lt;i&gt;Atonement&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Ian McEwan (2002)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;83. &lt;i&gt;The Stone Diaries&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Carol Shields (1994)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;84. &lt;i&gt;Holes&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Louis Sachar (1998)&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;b&gt;85. &lt;i&gt;Gilead&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Marilynne Robinson (2004)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;86. &lt;i&gt;And the Band Played On&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Randy Shilts (1987)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;87. &lt;i&gt;The Ruins&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Scott Smith (2006)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;88. &lt;i&gt;High Fidelity&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Nick Hornby (1995)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;89. &lt;i&gt;Close Range&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Annie Proulx (1999)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;90. &lt;i&gt;Comfort Me With Apples&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Ruth Reichl (2001)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;91. &lt;i&gt;Random Family&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Adrian Nicole LeBlanc (2003)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;92. &lt;i&gt;Presumed Innocent&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Scott Turow (1987)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;93. &lt;i&gt;A Thousand Acres&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Jane Smiley (1991)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;94. &lt;i&gt;Fast Food Nation&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Eric Schlosser (2001)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;95. &lt;i&gt;Kaaterskill Falls&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Allegra Goodman (1998)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;96. &lt;i&gt;The Da Vinci Code&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Dan Brown (2003)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;97. &lt;i&gt;Jesus’ Son&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Denis Johnson (1992)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;98. &lt;i&gt;The Predators' Ball&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Connie Bruck (1988)&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b&gt;99. &lt;i&gt;Practical Magic&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Alice Hoffman (1995)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;b&gt;100. &lt;i&gt;America (the Book)&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, Jon Stewart/&lt;i&gt;Daily Show&lt;/i&gt; (2004)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7085312708124191695-8101808528291665289?l=traschey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/feeds/8101808528291665289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7085312708124191695&amp;postID=8101808528291665289' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/8101808528291665289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/8101808528291665289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/2008/06/lists.html' title='Lists!'/><author><name>Tuhina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7085312708124191695.post-8046955960906742758</id><published>2008-02-19T21:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T21:45:08.412-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stupid Ben. Stupid Jerry.</title><content type='html'>One of the best parts about being an adult is eating ice cream for dinner and no one telling me "no."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, one of the worst parts of being an adult is eating ice cream for dinner and no one telling me "no."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damn you Ben &amp;amp; Jerry's. Damn you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7085312708124191695-8046955960906742758?l=traschey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/feeds/8046955960906742758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7085312708124191695&amp;postID=8046955960906742758' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/8046955960906742758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/8046955960906742758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/2008/02/stupid-ben-stupid-jerry.html' title='Stupid Ben. Stupid Jerry.'/><author><name>Tuhina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7085312708124191695.post-5400445913557013012</id><published>2008-01-31T16:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T16:54:29.966-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Paternal word vomit</title><content type='html'>So I love my dad, but he drives me crazy to no end. Karl and I got back from India nearly two weeks ago. We were there for two weeks, and those two weeks were spent almost entirely with my parents. My dad has a loud voice, a loud personality, and generally a loud sense of being. All in all, he's just a loud man. This is in contrast to Karl, who is one of the most reserved people I know. It's safe to say I married the polar opposite of my dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad also suffers from something I would like to call "word vomit." Things just come out of his mouth without him thinking about it. Sometimes, I wonder if he really thinks at all, but that is another post for another time. I was directly hit by some of this word vomit waiting for the train from Agra to Delhi. After a wonderful day of seeing every sight BUT the Taj Mahal (it was closed damn it!), I was thinking the train ride to Delhi would be nice and peaceful. Alas, the word vomit came out as we were in line to buy a bottle of water:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why are you going back to school? Karl has a good job! You already don't work. You should think about starting a family."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a bit taken aback. My parents were second on my phone list when I got my accceptance letter to go back to school. They said they were happy and proud of me... I specifically took so much time off from my life to figure out what I needed to do and where I needed to go. It took me a full year to decide to go back to school, which included campus visits, talking to professors, talking to alumni, and talking to (some) family. It wasn't a decision to be taken lightly since I had such a hard time functioning as a rational human being at Clemson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my dad whittled most of my worth down to baby-maker. Not that I don't want to be a baby-maker, but yet again, another post for another time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, I really just wish I could word vomit all over him someday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7085312708124191695-5400445913557013012?l=traschey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/feeds/5400445913557013012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7085312708124191695&amp;postID=5400445913557013012' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/5400445913557013012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/5400445913557013012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/2008/01/paternal-word-vomit.html' title='Paternal word vomit'/><author><name>Tuhina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7085312708124191695.post-6266466831259986855</id><published>2008-01-02T05:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-02T06:01:15.260-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Resolving to do nothing, really</title><content type='html'>It's now January 2nd, and I'm thinking that I'm a slacker. Or at least I sometimes aspire to be a slacker. I would make a lot of resolutions to prepare for the New Year. Most would consist of better time management, but my actual efforts wouldn't last more than two days. Some see the new year as a new start, but in the grand scheme of things, isn't it really just another day? I've never experienced the phoenix rising from its ashes at the stroke of midnight on December 31st. I only knew I was tired and ready for bed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If my resolution is to do nothing, is it really nothing?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7085312708124191695-6266466831259986855?l=traschey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/feeds/6266466831259986855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7085312708124191695&amp;postID=6266466831259986855' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/6266466831259986855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/6266466831259986855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/2008/01/resolving-to-do-nothing-really.html' title='Resolving to do nothing, really'/><author><name>Tuhina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7085312708124191695.post-6841487501430802836</id><published>2007-12-06T09:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T09:20:53.255-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mean person Pictionary</title><content type='html'>Karl and I get together with friends every other month to play board games and eat junk food. Alas, the power went out where we had our last board game night, which then led to a bout of candlelight Pictionary. Here were some of the things we had to draw:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;blasphemy&lt;br /&gt;Reganomics&lt;br /&gt;existentialist&lt;br /&gt;epileptic&lt;br /&gt;Charlie Sheen&lt;br /&gt;World of Warcraft&lt;br /&gt;transition&lt;br /&gt;iconolcast&lt;br /&gt;teenage pregnancy&lt;br /&gt;post-partum depression&lt;br /&gt;alter ego&lt;br /&gt;truth&lt;br /&gt;schmuck&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are more, but my brain already hurts thinking about last weekend's drawing exploits.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7085312708124191695-6841487501430802836?l=traschey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/feeds/6841487501430802836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7085312708124191695&amp;postID=6841487501430802836' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/6841487501430802836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/6841487501430802836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/2007/12/mean-person-pictionary.html' title='Mean person Pictionary'/><author><name>Tuhina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7085312708124191695.post-2794274639902377501</id><published>2007-11-09T09:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-09T09:34:16.447-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Upper dater</title><content type='html'>There's not really much to update. Karl and I survived the resulting haze from all of the southern California fires. We went to a wedding. We returned from the wedding, desperately wanting to move back up to northern California. The WGA is on strike, but not in front of Karl's office. Most of their scripts are "in the can" and already voiced. I'm going back to school next year, so I'm both excited and terrified at the same time, being that I'm pretty gun shy from my last attempt at graduate school. Karl and I are also headed to India for a couple of weeks. I'm looking forward to the trip, but it will be bittersweet. The last time I visited was in 2002. I won't be able to return until maybe 2011. A lot will have changed. A lot has already changed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also used my sewing machine for the first time. The inaugural project was a Winnie the Pooh baby blanket for a dear friend who is also an expectant mother. I spent two weeks cross stitching the pattern, and when I ran the sewing machine to finish it, I was thrilled. I now feel like my hands have gone arthritic with so much continuous stitching, which makes typing pretty painful.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7085312708124191695-2794274639902377501?l=traschey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/feeds/2794274639902377501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7085312708124191695&amp;postID=2794274639902377501' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/2794274639902377501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/2794274639902377501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/2007/11/upper-dater.html' title='Upper dater'/><author><name>Tuhina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7085312708124191695.post-236618311766944170</id><published>2007-10-14T12:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-14T12:24:23.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Momma dropped me on my head and look what she did!</title><content type='html'>Karl and I are headed to San Jose at the end of the month for a family wedding. It happens to be the second one in as many months. The first was in Cleveland over the Labor Day holiday. The last time I was in Cleveland was for, surprise, a wedding, in 1994. That would make me 15 at the time. Over Labor Day Weekend, many family members approached me, "You may not remember me from the last time you saw me, but I'm your [insert family relation here]." You would think they have to constantly remind me about their identity because I was dropped on my head as an infant. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sad thing is, I *was* dropped on my head as an infant.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7085312708124191695-236618311766944170?l=traschey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/feeds/236618311766944170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7085312708124191695&amp;postID=236618311766944170' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/236618311766944170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/236618311766944170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/2007/10/momma-dropped-me-on-my-head-and-look.html' title='Momma dropped me on my head and look what she did!'/><author><name>Tuhina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7085312708124191695.post-7512336163122219615</id><published>2007-09-28T18:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-28T18:46:18.458-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You down with MPP, yeah you know me.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.mpp.org/site/c.glKZLeMQIsG/b.3049335/k.4A2F/Aaron_Houston_on_the_Colbert_Report.htm" TARGET="_blank"&gt;I went to my prom with this dude.&lt;/a&gt; No, not Stephen Colbert. Wait for it, wait for it... yeah, that dude.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7085312708124191695-7512336163122219615?l=traschey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/feeds/7512336163122219615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7085312708124191695&amp;postID=7512336163122219615' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/7512336163122219615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/7512336163122219615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/2007/09/you-down-with-mpp-yeah-you-know-me.html' title='You down with MPP, yeah you know me.'/><author><name>Tuhina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7085312708124191695.post-3581203121358764445</id><published>2007-09-24T19:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-24T19:49:39.932-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's your soundtrack?</title><content type='html'>A little over a year ago, I was sitting in Safeco Field in Seattle with the husband's high school friends. Karl's best friend asked us what song would serve as our intro onto the field to bat. I cannot remember what the responses were, but I was at a loss for an answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little over a year later, I think I have an answer. For me, it would have to be Huey Lewis and the News's "Hip to be Square." I can see it, bat in hand, sauntering to home plate as the lyrics play...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Don't tell me that I'm crazy&lt;br /&gt;Don't tell me I'm nowhere&lt;br /&gt;Take it from me&lt;br /&gt;It's hip to be square"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It may not be the coolest song, but it works for me. Thank goodness I'm not a professional ball player.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7085312708124191695-3581203121358764445?l=traschey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/feeds/3581203121358764445/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7085312708124191695&amp;postID=3581203121358764445' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/3581203121358764445'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/3581203121358764445'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/2007/09/whats-your-soundtrack.html' title='What&apos;s your soundtrack?'/><author><name>Tuhina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7085312708124191695.post-8170160802889986224</id><published>2007-09-19T13:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T17:55:52.162-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything is coming up babies...</title><content type='html'>So here is a list of our friends who recently became parents.&lt;br /&gt;1. Alexandre and Rachael had a beautiful baby boy on May 6, 2007.&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Adrineh&lt;/span&gt; and Edmond had a beautiful baby boy on May 19, 2007.&lt;br /&gt;3. Eric and Jill had a beautiful baby girl on September 2, 2007. Karl and I were actually visiting Eric and Jill in Cleveland, OH when Abigail decided she wanted to meet Karl and me while we were in town. That was crazy, but another story for another time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is a list of friends who are going to be parents soon.&lt;br /&gt;1. Holly (The Original Mrs. Ho-Nasty) and Jay are going to have a baby boy sometime around November 8&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;2. Peter (otherwise known as my sexy bitch) and Melissa are going to have a baby girl sometime in early January.&lt;br /&gt;3. Phil and Angie are going to have a baby girl in mid-January. Abigail is no longer on their list of names.&lt;br /&gt;4. Mandy and Billy are going to have a baby around February/March (I'm so sorry about my fertility goddess skills, Mandy. I had no idea until Eric mentioned it).&lt;br /&gt;5. Brian and Annie are going to have a baby in February/March.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's a lot of people. That's a lot of people I know. That's a lot of people that are going to have more people...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the other story for the other time. Karl and I went to Cleveland, OH for the Labor Day weekend. Our itinerary consisted of attending my cousin's wedding and reception, attending a Cleveland Indians game with Eric and Jill, and taking Eric and Jill out to dinner. Friday was uneventful. Karl got a haircut. We fought traffic to LAX. We actually were fed on our flight. We rented a car and drove to Eric and Jill's house, where we promptly crashed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the grand scheme of things, Saturday was also uneventful. Karl and I had breakfast with Eric and Jill on their back deck. I tried to get out of going to the wedding, but alas, Karl and I got ready and were out the door. Eric played the Michigan fight song for us not once, but twice, on our way out the door. Jill officiated a wedding later Saturday. Karl and I arrived early Sunday morning at Eric and Jill's and, yet again, promptly crashed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday was not normal. The agenda originally was to wake up late, go downtown, see a baseball game, go out for dinner, catch up on goings on, and go to bed. The agenda changed at 9AM. Jill woke us up and mentioned there was much adventure in the middle of the night--she had contractions all night and into the morning. She and Eric were off to the hospital. Karl and I sat around  Eric and Jill's house in some sort of a daze. Contractions? That did not register in our fuzzy minds... Karl and I sat and waited. Eric called and said Jill was under observation, but still wanted to go to the Indians game. The doctor said that was out of the question. Karl and I didn't want to go to the Indians game without Eric and Jill, so we trekked over to my aunt and uncle's house on the other side of Cleveland. While eating leftover wedding cake and good Indian food, my cell rang. I thought it was Eric, but no, it was my brother, calling to tell me there was an earthquake in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;SoCal&lt;/span&gt;. My aunt was coming to yell at me for being on my cell, so I had to hang up quickly. Here is the conversation that transpired:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Zubin&lt;/span&gt;: "Hey, I just lived through an earthquake!"&lt;br /&gt;(My aunt spotted me on the phone... now walking over to yell at me to get off)&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Um. I need to know if you're okay. Don't think that I don't love you, but I have to hang up. Like now."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Zubin&lt;/span&gt;: "Yeah, I'm okay. What's going on?"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "Auntie is headed over here and she's not looking happy..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Zubin&lt;/span&gt;: "Whoa. Yeah, you need to go. Bye."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Zubin&lt;/span&gt;, understanding the dynamic of Indian families, hung up. I tossed the phone to Karl and gave my aunt my most innocent look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a nice ceremony welcoming my cousin and her husband back to her childhood home, my phone rang again. This time, Karl answered it since it was in his possession. He nodded his head a few times, hung up, and told me we had to leave, Eric and Jill became parents and we should give them their house key. We said our goodbyes, jumped in the car, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;sped&lt;/span&gt; down the Ohio Turnpike. We stopped at a grocery store to stock Eric and Jill's fridge with ready-made food and to get a bouquet of flowers. We stopped at the house, unloaded the car, and then drove off to the hospital. But before leaving for the hospital, I had to alter a card attached to a present we got for Eric and Jill. The card originally read, "Jill, Eric, and Baby," and was changed to "Jill, Eric and &lt;strike&gt;Baby&lt;/strike&gt; Abigail."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karl and I arrived at the hospital. Abigail, Jill, and Eric were doing well. Abigail was fast asleep. Jill was pretty talkative, but she said it was probably the drugs. Jill theorized that being on her feet for an hour officiating at the wedding the previous day was probably not the best thing for her. Eric was pretty darned excited, even if Michigan lost to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Appalachian&lt;/span&gt; State the previous day. We spent some time with them, held Abigail and told her funny stories, then headed off to find a hotel for the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that was the trip to Cleveland.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7085312708124191695-8170160802889986224?l=traschey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/feeds/8170160802889986224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7085312708124191695&amp;postID=8170160802889986224' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/8170160802889986224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/8170160802889986224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/2007/09/everything-is-coming-up-babies.html' title='Everything is coming up babies...'/><author><name>Tuhina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7085312708124191695.post-3410557736685369460</id><published>2007-09-13T21:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T21:23:07.554-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't wanna work, I wanna bang on the drum all day!</title><content type='html'>To prove how well standardized career tests work, I'm posting Karl's results. I totally think he needs to reevaluate his career goals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Water Treatment Plant Operator (ooh, taking poo out of people's water)&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;2. Film Processor&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;3. Power Plant Operator (it was always his dream to emulate the great Homer Simpson)&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;4. Explosives Specialist (What guy doesn't want to blow shit up?)&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;5. Stationary Engineer (Whaaa? An enginner that doesn't move?)&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;6. Database Developer      &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Web Developer&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;8. Manufacturing Machine Operator&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;9. Business Systems Analyst  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Avionics Tech&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;11. Video Game Developer      &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Computer Programmer&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;13. Multimedia Developer&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;14. Optical / Ophthalmic Lab Technician&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. Dental Lab Tech&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;16. Animator      &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Fashion Designer&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;18. Computer Animator&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;19. Graphic Designer&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;20. Artist&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;21. Upholsterer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. Electrician      &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. Medical Illustrator&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;24. Musical Instrument Builder and Repairer      &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. Physicist&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;26. Environmental Engineer&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;27. Computer Engineer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. Electrical Engineer&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;29. Biomedical Engineer&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;30. Film Editor      &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. Computer Support Person&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;32. Printing Press Operator&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;33. Aerospace Engineer&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;34. Bookbinder      &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. Desktop Publisher      &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. Electrical Engineering Tech&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;37. Electronics Engineering Tech&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;38. Cartoonist / Comic Illustrator&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;39. Industrial Designer      &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. Craftsperson&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7085312708124191695-3410557736685369460?l=traschey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/feeds/3410557736685369460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7085312708124191695&amp;postID=3410557736685369460' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/3410557736685369460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/3410557736685369460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-dont-wanna-work-i-wanna-bang-on-drum.html' title='I don&apos;t wanna work, I wanna bang on the drum all day!'/><author><name>Tuhina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7085312708124191695.post-73470380515951702</id><published>2007-09-12T18:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-12T18:10:55.175-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match! Find me a find! Catch me a catch!</title><content type='html'>I just took a career test. Here are the results, ranked by my interests. Some hit the nail on the head. Some really leave me wondering...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you curious to do so:&lt;br /&gt;-go to http://www.careercruising.com/default.as&lt;wbr&gt;p;&lt;br /&gt;-put in Username: nycareers, Password: landmark;&lt;br /&gt;-take their "Career Matchmaker" questions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Anthropologist&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;2. Website Designer&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;3. Sport Psychology Consultant (Huh? Being that I'm not all that athletic, and consultant is such a shady word...)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;4. Lobbyist&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;5. Rehabilitation Counselor &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Historian &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Desktop Publisher&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;8. Humanitarian Aid Worker &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. Industrial Designer &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Animator   (Yes, of stick figures!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. Cartoonist / Comic Illustrator   (Please refer to the detail in number 10)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Mediator   (I already hold this job in my crazy family)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Interior Designer &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. Criminologist (Did I ever mention how CSI makes me cringe?)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;15. Dental Assistant (Jeebus! Stick my hands in other people's mouths? I think not!)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;16. Fashion Designer   (I actually seriously considered this option when Karl and I moved out west)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. Industrial-Organizational Psychologist &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. Multimedia Developer &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Addictions Counselor   (funny, I'm waiting on an acceptance letter to get this degree...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. Costume Designer&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;21. Human Resources Specialist &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. Religious Worker &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. Community Worker&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;24. Activist&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;25. Graphic Designer&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;26. Artist&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;27. Computer Animator  (Karl would be so proud)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. Psychologist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. Print Journalist&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;30. Communications Specialist &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31. Political Aide&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;32. Archivist&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;33. Writer&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;34. Public Policy Analyst &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. Exhibit Designer &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;36. Critic (of life?)&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;37. Library Technician   (Is this a fancy term for librarian?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38. Dispatcher  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;39. Translator   (I did this one for awhile. Boy, some funny mistranslation stories to tell...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;40. Market Research Analyst&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7085312708124191695-73470380515951702?l=traschey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/feeds/73470380515951702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7085312708124191695&amp;postID=73470380515951702' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/73470380515951702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/73470380515951702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/2007/09/matchmaker-matchmaker-make-me-match.html' title='Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match! Find me a find! Catch me a catch!'/><author><name>Tuhina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7085312708124191695.post-2953116555543113892</id><published>2007-08-24T08:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-24T08:46:46.415-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Virtual Reality Insanity</title><content type='html'>You would never know this, but I have issues with reality television. Yes, I have watched my fair share of trash. I remember the year Karl and I were glued in front of the television to watch "I Want to Be a Hilton" and "Average Joe 3: The Joes Strike Back." Christi had me addicted to the first season of "The Apprentice." I also harbor the guilt of watching every show from the first season of "My Super Sweet 16" (this was a low point in my life physically, emotionally, educationally, and psychologically).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, loosely relating to Kenneth Burke, what is "reality"? Our terministic screen messes with reality since it's perceived in so many facets. What really happened? Did it really happen? With reality television, the wonders of editing can make the sweetest person look like a bitch. My favorite editing snafu as of late was a BBC special on Queen Elizabeth II. The dear Queen was in a photo shoot with famed photographer Annie Leibowitz. The special shows the Queen leaving the shoot in quite a huff, appearing to be rather ticked with Leibowitz. The BBC apologized to the Queen for misrepresentation in editing. So what happened?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, back to the gripe of reality television. CBS will be airing a program called "Kid Nation." My primary gripe with this is that, at least in my silly brain, has a scary resemblance to "Lord of the Flies." My other weak question: what good can come of this? Will I totally misinterpret this show like I did with "Dancing with the Stars"? I was sure "Stars" was too absurd and bound to flop. Oh, how wrong am I, five seasons later?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7085312708124191695-2953116555543113892?l=traschey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/feeds/2953116555543113892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7085312708124191695&amp;postID=2953116555543113892' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/2953116555543113892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/2953116555543113892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/2007/08/virtual-reality-insanity.html' title='Virtual Reality Insanity'/><author><name>Tuhina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7085312708124191695.post-8295796815940791135</id><published>2007-08-23T16:04:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-23T16:13:10.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Not yet a girl gone wild, not yet sedate</title><content type='html'>Ever since Karl and I established a land line, we've been getting telemarketing calls just like the rest of the world. Our cell phones still serve as the catch-and-release tags for our family members. On our land line, we've gotten the regular calls for steam cleaning (not our responsibility, living in an apartment), refinancing our mortgage (owning a house out here... we'd have to give up a few organs and then some for a down payment), and for vacations (stupid Redondo Beach hotel selling our information). The best call, though, came from the esteemed organization of Girls Gone Wild, asking to talk to Karl...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This takes me back to when Karl and I first met. One of our first dates was to a GameCube launch party in Atlanta. He failed to inform me that it was sponsored by Maxim. As we enter, there are scantily-clad girls draped over large-screen televisions. The tragedy of the situation was that they were receiving no attention. At all. All but two of the party attendees (being Heidi and myself) were addicted to playing preview games and talking about graphics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I'm still wondering about Girls Gone Wild... and being in Los Angeles, you never know...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7085312708124191695-8295796815940791135?l=traschey.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/feeds/8295796815940791135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7085312708124191695&amp;postID=8295796815940791135' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/8295796815940791135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7085312708124191695/posts/default/8295796815940791135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://traschey.blogspot.com/2007/08/not-yet-girl-gone-wild-not-yet-sedate.html' title='Not yet a girl gone wild, not yet sedate'/><author><name>Tuhina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
