Best Site in the World

translate.google.com

I am working on a project for which I have to name a program that will be deployed internationally. In these instances, it is imperative to ensure that whatever that name is, it will translate effectively into other languages. So in my quest to research this, since I clearly don't speak other languages and rarely speak English properly, I stumbled upon the Google translator. This site will translate anything you type in instantly into a number of different languages... including Icelandic, Yiddish, and Macedonian. People still speak Macedonian?? This really came in handy this morning when I instant messaged Andrei "hola" not realizing we were going to have an entire conversation in Spanish, a language neither of us speak. He also didn't realize I was cheating.

Andrei: como estas?
Jessica: bien, y tu?
Andrei: estoy bien
Jessica: me llamo jesseeeka, no habla espanol
Andrei: me llamo andres
Jessica: me gustan los gatos
Andrei: que?
Jessica: donde esta la biblioteca?
Andrei: donde esta mi pantalones?
Jessica: en el parque de casas rodantes
Andrei: con queso
Jessica: aj, ako su syry
Jessica: that's Slovak for I like cheese

The Birdcage on Ice

I have a confession. I’ve sinned. My last confession was well... Never. So, we could be here all day. This one is fairly minor though. I confess that I haven’t watched any of the winter Olympics. Like not even a minute. I am NBC’s worst nightmare. Although that may be an overstatement considering everything else that network has gone through recently. I just haven’t really found my Olympic spirit this February. I’ve never been much for winter sports, even though I did a couple of involuntary, completely ungraceful ice dances on my way home last night and nearly wiped out many, many times. However, back in the day I used to truly enjoy watching figure skating and yelling “TOE PICK.” It’s so not fun now that noone is getting clubbed in the leg anymore.

But after I heard from many coworkers, including an impassioned plea from Andrei, that I HAD to watch the men’s short programs from last night... I decided to do some investigating. Can I watch this shizz online? YES! Yes, I can. (After I sweet talk the IT guy into upgrading my HD video capabilities.) Jackety pot. Welcome to my afternoon. If you like spending the afternoon at The Birdcage on Ice. Hank Azaria would be so proud.

First up, Johnny Weir. Oh sweet Jesus. Who picked out your costume? Fredericks of Hollywood? That is indeed exactly how Andrei described it, a “pink and black corset.” Except it has ruffles... And one tassle. I really hope nobody can see my computer.

How can that possibly be topped? Evan Lysacek in black sequins and feathers. I am not necessarily a fan of a man in tights and feathers, however I am a huge proponent of the scruff. Well played Lysacek, well played. I feel a tiny bit less embarrassed watching this than you’re pink laced up teammate’s performance... I said a tiny bit. I think we’re done here...

Top Ten

Love stinks! Farmer creates manure Valentine

Top Ten reasons why this is a great headline:

10) The words love, Valentine, and manure will probably never appear in the same sentence ever again.

9) Is there really anything besides fertilizer that is worth making with manure?

8) I am not ungrateful, but it's the thought that counts has never seemed like a lamer excuse.

7) That definitely beats the pants off a new Lexus with a life-sized red bow.

6) This is probably one present best observed from afar.

5) My high school boyfriend sent me flowers a couple of days before Valentine’s day one year because it was cheaper. And I thought that was shitty.

4) This dude clearly has a very loose interpretation of the word “gift.”

3) First guy who assembles city sidewalk dog shit into a heart will win my eternal devotion.

2) On second thought, I very much enjoy being single.

And the number 1 reason why this is a great headline...

1) What’d you get for Valentine’s day? Shit. Oh like nothing? No, actual shit. Oh, that sucks.

A Whole New Meaning to J. Jew

In advance of my forthcoming 30th birthday, I believe you will find it hilarious that I used my undergraduate college ID twice this week to secure student discounts at J.Crew. Before execution of the plan, I thought long and hard about the ethics of this. Would this be wrong? Well, yes... But how wrong? How wrong is too wrong? Isn’t paying more money than necessary also wrong? Do my 2 wrongs make a right? Then I asked some of my coworkers if they would judge me. The overwhelming consensus revealed that by taking advantage of the 15% discount offered to me solely because my Syracuse ID has no graduation date on it and I still look like I’m 17, I would, in fact, be a student of divine opportunity, coincidence, and manipulation. Therefore, I’d be doing nothing wrong. Do they have continuing education courses on those topics because I’d really like to sign up...

Of course, I am a play by the rules kinda girl. So whenever I bend the rules slightly, which rarely occurs, I always get nervous that something is going to go wrong and I’m going to get caught. Like the time I told the gym that my roommate was my half sister so that I could take advantage of the amazing family deal they were running for membership. I prepared answers to every possible question. Why do we have different last names? My mom married her dad. She’s adopted. I legally changed my name. It didn’t matter, they asked me nothing and I have a half price lifetime membership. Exactly what happened when I shyly inquired whether or not J.Crew still runs their student discount and plopped down my Syracuse ID. The sales lady glanced at it and I got an instant 15% off. Sometimes it really does pay to not be such a goody-goody...

Snow Job

Let me tell you the story of a little girl who went to sleep all snug in her bed last Friday evening dreaming of awakening to a winter wonderland filled with fluffy white snow. That little girl would be me, and the fact that I would even care to see snow after spending my college years in Syracuse is quite peculiar at best. However the point of the story is that upon daybreak, ok fine afternoonbreak, there wasn’t a flake to be found. I don’t like being lied to, and we all know what happened to that little boy who cried wolf. Well actually I forgot, but I think he got eaten.

If I was wrong at my job as often as meteorologists are, I wouldn’t have one. And I’m working with pure intellect, creativity, and maybe a thesaurus and dictionary every now and then. These are far rudimentary tools compared to fancy ass Doppler 5000, NEXRAD satellite supercomputer radar models. Accu-weather my ass. You’ve got a lot of nerve calling yourself that. I’d advise potentially adding a question mark to the end. Accu-weather?, seems more accurate. Your forecast for tomorrow’s “snow event” looks like the ramblings of crazy people. Crazy people who are very careful to use the most unabsolute language known to man (ie, lawyers.) The maps “suggest”, “could see” snow mixed with sleet, “accumulation potential”, “must not be completely ruled out”... that it will be 80 and sunny tomorrow. Oh you’re good Bill Evans, real good. You’ve got me totally snowed... tell me more, I’m intrigued.

Thesaurus: my favorite dinosaur

Tool: instrument used to shape, form, or finish
gadget, gizmo, implement

Tool: person who allows himself to be used
chump, creature, stool pigeon

Really? REALLY? Which one of these was I not expecting to see as a listing? Yea I'm pretty sure that's self-explanatory.

The Daily Bailey

They say the early bird gets the worm and even though I don’t think I like worms, although I never tried one, I’d still like to see if I could get one. So today I woke up at 3am. And alas, I didn’t find any worms, instead I found an extremely angry Mommy. She’s apparently been formulating plans in her head ever since the whole Frankenstein incident about what her next course of action would be if I continued to rise before the sun. It seemed this morning’s genius plan was to put me in the LIVE ANIMAL carrier that I’ve been using as a step stool to get to my window perch. I haven't been in there since the day I was brought to this dump, so when she finally figured out how to open it, after 10 minutes of unsuccessfully trying in the dark and eventually turning the light on, my curiosity got the best of me and I stuck my head in only to be shoved and locked in. Damn you. I really should have seen that coming.

Once inside, I promptly decided I wanted out. It was in no way as fun or interesting as I imagined it would have been. But my constant thrashing and scratching only served to get me airlifted to the bathroom and the door shut. 2 hours later, after I’d shredded every last piece of newspaper that was in the carrier, I was finally set free. SHE barely looked at me, then left in her gym clothes. Upon her return, she greeted me “Hello Bailey” the way that Jerry guy talks to Newman on that show I once watched at the resort. Sooo, I suppose this means she’s angry with me? How could anyone be angry at this face?...

Hungry Hungry Hippo

Recently, my team decided to try and compress all of our meetings into a couple of hours in the morning to enable us to use the rest of the day to get work done at our desks. In theory, this sounded amazing. However, in practice, I sit at my desk all day watching the minutes drag by while eating everything in sight. It’s not even lunch time and I’ve already had oatmeal and a granola bar, drank a liter of water hoping it would fill me up, and started dreaming about what I can cram in my craw for lunch.

My thoughts of food don’t end at lunch. I am also unashamedly thinking about how badly I want to eat a pound of pasta with clam sauce for dinner. This may seem random and/or excessive, but know that I did exactly that a couple weeks ago (and then subsequently had the worst stomach ache). Regardless, it was an "I'm alive" moment. Forget jumping out of planes or riding motorcycles, I want a Cinnabon or a big ole grilled cheese sandwich. Extra cheesey pizza or that ginormous croissant that the coffee cart man sells that looks like a giant crab. Jelly Beans. Bagels. Sour cream. Frosting. Double stuf Oreos. And no I am not pregnant.

Kate Moss once said "nothing tastes as good as being skinny." I beg to differ. Being skinny is the hardest thing I've ever done precisely because everything that helps you stay skinny tastes like shit. Additionally, if you’ve ever seen the exercise equivalent estimate for certain foods, you would never eat again. To burn off that donut, you practically have to do 12 hours of housework, a triathalon, or swim 3,000 laps. It’s a daily losing battle that I have been losing badly lately. Short of having my mouth permanently wired shut, I will need to figure something else out since I have another 6 hours of sitting here, and getting up to go to the bathroom every 1/2 hour just to have something to do... Isn’t working.

I Call Bullshit

I find things that are sold on tv to be extremely interesting. Why are they exclusively sold on tv? Why can’t I buy them in a store? Because stores don’t want to stock these items since most likely nobody will buy it? Because it’s special? So special that I should pay extra to have it shipped to me and purchase it sight unseen? It took me like 5 years to figure out what the hell “No COD’s” meant and it’s obvious I still have many burning questions about tv products.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not opposed to these items and I even own a few, but I never called and ordered them off the television. I waited until they were available in stores. It’s always some ingenious invention that’s going to work miracles like the Ab Roller or the contraption that holds your bra straps in place (both of which I own, but don’t use.) However for all of the ones that seem truly amazing, there are more of them that truly border on the uncomfortably ludicrous. Ones like the Neckline Slimmer, of which I saw a commercial for while I was on the treadmill the other day.

The Neckline Slimmer is a gadget that has springs in it and basically allows you to do what looks like sit ups for your neck. I can firm, lift, and smooth my neck in just 2 minutes a day! What ever has my loose, droopy, coarse neck done without this?! I wonder if it works as well as that exercise they did in the 50’s while singing “I must, I must, I must increase my bust.” The website has the usual testimonials and most likely doctored before and after photos, but I do have to say I was pleased to see no uses of the term “turkey neck.” Too bad Heidi Montag wasn’t aware of this nifty device, it could have spared her the trouble of undergoing neck liposuction. We are a seriously twisted and sad society.