It's the end of the world as we know it...

Politics, philosophy, the law, current events, left leaning debates, religion, baseball, football, pop culture, growing up Greek, random events in my life...whatever hits my mind at the time.


So I'm at the Indians game Friday night (we have the fireworks package; our seats are pretty sweet, about 15 rows from the field, right at right field). Anyway, there are 2 guys in front of us, and one of them has a shirt on with a bunch of writing on it. My friend asks this guy what his shirt said (we couldn't make it out). He tells us that it's the name of the guy who owned the Indians way back when, their first owner. I asked him if he had owned the Spiders (the Cleveland team first who disappeared in 1899) or literally the Indians (came into existence a couple years later in 1901.) He starts calling me ESPN Classic.

We're talking, turns out he's 22. As in, years old. But he's sweet, and comments that my sports knowledge, tongue ring, and age are all hot. So basically, he's all complimentary, and as he's 22, that's sorta fun. (Hey, I am a girl...) When my friend and I mentioned we were attorneys, he asked for our cards. I gave him my (personal) card because that's all I have on me. He asked if that was my cell number and if he could call me. Despite the fact that he's 22, I said sure. (I'm not much into age differences, either signiicantly younger or older.) During the fireworks (actual fireworks, people!) he again asks if he can call me and if I have a boyfriend. I say yes and no respectively. Game ends, we leave. My friend and I go to the bar to meet some of my friends for a birthday celebration. Fun stuff. He calls while I'm at the bar, we briefly talk but it's hard to hear at the bar and I ultimately lost reception.

The next day, he calls around 11 *am* but I'm busy (actually, I'm at the bar. But a different bar than I was when he called 12 hours earlier. I'm registering teams for a scavenger hunt. I tell him I'll call him when I get a chance, and do several hours later, leaving a VM. Around 11 pm he calls again and we are talking, He asks when I'll next be at the Indians game, and says he doesn't want to wait until mid-May to see me, can he come up next weekend. Sure, fine. (I know, I know, 22...) He then tells me to call his friend about a testical festival that he went to (I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried). Ok, fine, whatever. (By the way, I had never even heard of a testical festival so I Googled it and came to some frightening things.)

So I call his friend, and as I don't remember his friend's name (we didn't really talk at the game), when he answers, I say, "it's Stephanie, from the Indians game last night." He remembers me b/c he calls me ESPN Classic. So we start talking, and during this conversation with the friend, a few interesting things happen: (1) he reveals that the 22-year-old has a girlfriend (who, incidentally, made them come home after the game because she heard the two of them talking about us); (2) the 22-year-old calls me to see why I didn't call him back after calling his friend; and (3) the friend asked me out.

All of which leave me convinced that men are the most confusing, disturbing creatures ever.

However, women may be the most immature creatures ever. We were at dinner Saturday and our friend freaks out how he has to leave without his food because he has a date. (It took over an hour to get our food.) Big mistake. After quizzing about the girl, we spend time trying to figure out where his date is. He won't tell us, but he's not much of a poker player, so we think we've figured it out. He leaves, we eat, we go to meet some friends at another bar, and at the bar, my friend and I get this great idea to walk to the bar where we believe his date is. We don't want to say anything to him or her, we just want him to see us so that he wonders if we will. You know, make him squirm a bit. So we do that and see him at te bar, sitting by the window. We walk by slowly but aren't sure if he sees us, so walk by a second time. Slowly. This time, he sees us for sure, because he "stretches" and flicks us off. It was very smooth and I doubt she even noticed. Awesome. We literally could not stop giggling. Oh my god, we are so immature. It was awesome.


HEY CLEVELANDERS! Remeber to check out the Progress Cleveland: Regionalism event this Wednesday at 6 pm. It's moderated by Sam Fulwood III of the Plain Dealer. The panelists are George Forbes, Esq., Professor Norm Krumholtz (CSU), Mayor Tom Longo (Garfield Heights) & Elizabeth Stoops (Voices & Choices). Member admission is $10.00 (nonmember $20) which includes complementary parking and hors d'oeuvres. A cash bar will be available. You can register here.

And did you see this? A former baseball player (and current tv annoucer) said "I won't say that women belong in the kitchen, but they don't belong in the dugout."

And I have been avoiding the story of Molly, the black cat trapped in the building. I just figured that it wasn't going to end well. But turns out that I was wrong, and Molly is free after more than two weeks. Sometimes, there are happy endings...

I saw this person with two bumper stickers. The first said "Be Kind to Animals -- Don't Eat Them." The second was a US Navy sticker. So I just want to make sure I understand - killing animals for food is bad, killing people (for war, oil, whatever) is ok?

And on Friday, I was admitted to practice before the United States Supreme Court. This sounds much more impressive than it actually is, because all it really requires is doing paperwork and having someone vouch for you, then being sworn in, but at the end of the day, I'm admitted before the Supreme Court, right?

Easter was nice. I had 20 Greeks at my house (not everyone could make it.) I have done 4 loads of dishes in the last 18 hours. Fun, fun. Actually, it was a good day. My house was cleaned, there were good food, my family, card playing, lots of laughter, yelling, and nothing was broken. My cats, who are ok when friends come over, were traumatized b/c Greek people are LOUD. Singing (Christos anesti!). It was a good day. Even though the weather got thunderstormy.


I already got the bill for my emergency room visit a few weeks back. Thank god I did my taxes... But as I mentioned, there are some CHARACTERS in the emergency room at 2 am. People who talk to invisible people...

I was told to "take it easy." On Tuesday (so two days after my injury, one day after the scary hospital visit) I had rock climbing plans. And for most of the day, I assumed I could go rock climbing. But I got more and more sore, and wondered if I should. My friend said:

I might climb a fake wall with broken ribs IF there were (1) ribs and/or a perfect filet mignon and (2) gelato on top. MIGHT.
Mmm.. Gelato. I want to go back to Italy. As I already mentioned, I ended up not rock climbing that night. (Score one for logic, huh? (Clearly, that did not extend to soccer the next night, but using common sense 50% of the time is an accomplishment for me.))

So because I had to cancel, tonight I went rock climbing for the first time in 2 weeks. BUT it was a great success. The one wall that I've never made it up and it's been my goal to make it halfway up the wall...I climbed it. I mean, I climbed to the TOP of the wall. It was awesome. It was a good rock climbing night. I was more or less 6 for 6. (I started one, but never actually attempted it so I could that as no wall. I didn't realize it was a reclining wall and once I saw that, I wasn't interested.) One of my friends went for the first time and learned to belay, and then was practicing with us. So he was belaying for me (with my friend that I normally climb with backing up up) and halfway up the wall (I was cruising) I realized my arms were spent. And I mean, they were jello. I had no grip. Even worse, I was so tired that I couldn't even lift them (obviously imperative to rock climbing.) So forgetting that he's JUST started this, I tell him that I'm letting go and to hold me up there. Well, I go sailing (not his fault, where the anchor was - and truthfully, it was f'ing awesome) and I think it worried him a bit.

Last Thursday I went to a tour and beer tasting at Great Lakes Brewery. I was on vocodin, but I figured I'd be fine. I now know why I should not drink on Vicodin. Even just "tasting" wine got my tipsy. Not "drunk," mind you, but tipsy. I'm not a beer drinker by trade. And I figured, it s a beer TASTING. How drunk can you get when you taste something? Well, you are given LOTS of somethings. We got Burning River Pale Ale (this label rocked); Holy Moses White Ale (this label was awesome too - Moses is parting the Cuyahoga); Dortmunder Gold Lager; Eliot Ness Amber Lager; and Edmund Fitzgerald Porter. Now I already said that I'm not a beer drinker. Now I'm going to say something else that make you think I'm crazy...I've never had ONE of these beer before. I know, I grew up here, I'm an insult to Cleveland. The tour was way more information that I cared about at ALL.

My hair has gotten really long! Right before I started this blog, I had cut my hair to about where my mouth was, a little shorter. Now, about two years later, it's about halfway down my back. I didn't even realize that it was getting that long because I wear it up so often. I like my hair short because it moves a lot. And I like it really long because I love the feel of it on my back. What is hate is the in between mess that is about a year long. So I'll get to enoy it for a few months long - and then I figure it will be long enough to cut off again and give the 12 inches to Locks for Love. Sadly, this means that I likely can't dye my hair anytime soon - even though I use temporary dye and it's supposed to wear off in about 1 month, it generally takes me about 3 months. So I will be sporting grey hair. Actually, it's not even grey. It's pure white. Just random strands of white hair. Which always looks crazy with the dark brown mop on my head. The funny thing? My mom didn't go white (also, not really grey) until she was much older than me.

And who am I going to make fun of now that Scott McClellan is resigning? Bush is going to have to find someone who can smile and take all the administration's shit. It's no wonder that the press secretaries turn over so quickly!


Yikes! Is this good or bad??

You Have A Type A+ Personality


You're driven to succeed every single second of the day
And you don't let up on your goals, no matter how tired you are
You've already acheived a lot in your life... but it's not enough for you

Always on the go, you tend to get things done quickly and effectively
You have the personality to be a successful enterpreneur
Just remember to play a little too, even if play is the most difficult thing for you!

I'm not sure I'd agree anyway. I really tend to procrastinate.

And speaking of procrastination, my taxes DID get done. I took them to H&R Block on my way to lunch. Picked them up after lunch, gave them a check for $150 and viola! Electronically filed and I can expect a refund directly deposited soon. idea why I waited so long in the first place.

And a reminder that the Cleveland Professional 20/30 Club is holding a panel on Regionalism next Wednesday, April 26. It's at 6 pm at the Forum at One Cleveland Center. The event is moderated by Sam Fullwood III of the Plain Dealer. Panelists include George FOrbes, Esq, Profession Norm Krumholz (Professor of Urban Affairs of CSU), Mayor Tom Longo (Garfield Heights) & Elixabeth Stoops of Voices and Choices.

You can register here.

OK, I should get to bed. I'm tired. Or maybe I'm just cold - I think I need to turn the heat in my house back on. So much for an early spring. I guess it was just a fleeting moment. I played football tonight, and it was freezing. I was wearing SO many layers. The ribs are fine - what is interesting is that my knees are really hurting again. I thought they were getting better. I guess that it wasn't that, it was more likely because I was on pain medication. I was convinced I was having a heart attack and didn't think of it, but clearly when I was in the hospital I should have asked them. Not the hyperextended right knee, I know what's up with that. But for my left knee, how long can something stay bruised? It was 4 weeks on Saturday. So now we are at 4 1/2. Weeks. You can still see the bruise slightly, and it's still sensitive to the touch. And that's the *good* knee! It's not bothering me normally - it just hurts when I touch it. I solve that by not touching it. The other knee still randomly gives out on me, most often in softball (random, huh) when I'm batting and come from a standstill to sprint to the bag. I would have thought soccer would be the hardest - logically that make sense, but it's just not so. Like I said, it's just hyperextended. That's (part of) what took me out of competitive soccer in high school. One day I will know what it's like to wake up not in knee pain.

So I got a text from a friend that said, "do you still want to sleep with me." Is this really the type of question you ask via TEXT? Our generation is SO f'ed up.


Saturday was the absolute perfect day. The weather was gorgeous. I had my football game then went t o the Treehouse to sit outside. For several hours. In the sun. I actually have tan lines on my feet from my sandals. I turned my heat off, I had my windows opened in my bedroom (my cats appreciated that as well). I can't wait until it gets nice and stays nice. It got a bit cold again today, but yesterday was a little slice of heaven... (Yes, I played football, which is again before I was cleared to do so, but I was fine. And I'm cleared to play as of tomorrow anyway.)

It is now April 16. Know what I forgot to do? Umm... pay my taxes. D'oh! The annoying part is that the government owes me several thousand dollars and I just haven't gotten around to taking them somewhere to get done. I'm not sure what happens if one doesn't pay their taxes on time if they are owed money - do I still get fined?

So it's everyone's Easter today - but mine. So all the stories are closed, I didn't have soccer, or softball, or anything. So I didn't even bother to get showered or dressed today. Yes, I should have mowed my lawn today, but I couldn't be bothered. I read some newspapers, picked up (somewhat - not nearly as much as I had to) around my house, read some, downloaded some music.

On April 6, the Plain Dealer ran an article on the top 9 baseball movies.

(1) The Natural; (2) Field of Dreams; (3) Eights Men Out; (4) Major League; (5) Pride of the Yankees; (6) A League of Their Own; (7) Bull Durham; (8) Bingo Long Travelling All-Sars and Motor Kings; and (9) Bad News Bears.

First, I've never heard of the number 8 movie. Second, I'd naturally put Field of Dreams as #1. And I do love The Natural, but Field of Dreams is my classis baseball/magic movie, one of my ultimate favorites no matter the genre. Third, I was sad to see that wasn't on the list. Not as good as Costner's two other baseball movies (For The Love Of The GameField of Dreams and Bull Durham - and does anyone else think that only his baseball movies are worthwhile?) but I do enjoy it. Finally, I wonder, Major League - is the love of that movie a Cleveland thing, or does the greatness of the movie transcend that?

(Yes, it takes me a while to get to the newspaper - even when a friend emailed me to tell me that this article was in the paper b/c he knew I'd like it).


I learned why the doctor told me to take a week off sports. Actually, that's not true: the doctor told me to "take it easy." What does that mean? Who knows. Anyway, I figured that he wasn't specifically saying, "you can't play sports" so that meant that I was permitted to play sports, as long as I took it easy while doing so.

Well, turns out that's not that easy to do. The ball is there, and I can either play physical or be a wuss. Never one to be a wuss, I was physical. So second half, I collided with some guy.

Ouch. It had to be on the left side, huh?

When I'm in total pain through the vicodin and two drinks, that's not good... What can I say? I'm a moron. Anyone with half a brain would actually have taken it easy. I'll not play softball tomorrow (mainly because I already had plans to attend a beer tasting tour, not because of anything learning lessons...) Then I'll make a decision on Saturday, and Sunday I don't have softball or soccer because it's all your Easter. So that IS taking it easy... in my own Stephanie way.

And so I went to the hospital the other night at 2 am. Did I mention what FREAKS are at the hospital at 2 am? Oh.My.God. Yikes!


Remember this? Well, I have TWO cracked ribs now, and a strained muscle in my back. Both on the left side. Also from soccer. Indoor. I'm not even sure when it occurred. I know that I was playing against the boards a lot, and landed on the ground once, but I don't recall any one play where I thought, "oh, I'm hurt!" The best (?) part - other than the play where I landed on the ground - the wall plays were I evidentally got my ass handed to me was by a 14-year-old girl. Yes, I hang my head in shame... .
Hey all Cleveland area theatre lovers! Playhouse Square has just announed the 2006-2007 Broadway Series. Shows are Monty Python's Spamalot; The Light In The Piazza; Chita Rivera: The Dancer's Life; Legends!; All Shook Up; The Rat Pack Life From Las Vegas; and Dirty Rotten Scoundrels! There is even a Girls Night Out subscription... Most people know that I'm a huge supporter of the arts here in Cleveland. I think that Playhouse Square is an amazing resource we have in town. But seriously, you can't beat their series subscriptions.


When is the last time you went to a concert where the band did not play an encore? Have you ever?? Other than, of course, if you were at the Guster concert on Friday night with me, I mean.

First, the concert was at John Carroll. In the gym (at my college when we brought in bands, we had them in the theatre). Because it was a gym (and by the way, those bleachers weren't the most comfortable...) the acustics were simply awful.

But the opening act, a solo artist, was the most awful things that I've ever heard. Seriously. It was painful. There were three of us, and none of us were positive if he was even singing English. Do you know how BAD you have to suck when people can't even tell if you are singing English? All that can't be blamed on the acustics.

FINALLY, Guster gets on stage. And the crowd sucked. I'm sorry if you're a John Carroll student, but you all were awful. The crowd was not moving, not singing, they were pathetic. I think the part where the crowd was most into it was when some John Carroll student went on stage to play with the band, and totally took over the microphone from the band. So the concert ends, the band (who never even introduced themselves) walked off stage. And a few minutes later, the lights came on. No encore.

We won our soccer game tonight. We had no business winning it. We were outplayed. We looked like a bunch of children running after the ball. Seriously, we played like shit. Outdoor starts Wednesday; we play like that, and we are in big trouble.


So this party Saturday night. House party. Bring your own alcoholic beverages. So I had Smirnoff Twisted, all these bottles on the floor of the car. I also had six pounds of gummy bears soaking in vodka. (MOst excellent, by the way.)

Anywaon, on the way over, I get pulled over for speeding. The cop comes, sees all these bottles of alcohol on the floor, and immediately asks if I've been drinking. Well, no, I haven't. (Yet, maybe, but the honest answer is still no. If you want to find me drunk, catch me in a few hours...) Anyway, none of these bottles are open, but they also aren't in a package (to hard to carry them all - I was just going to toss them in a bag) so apparently the cop doesn't believe me. I explain that I am on my way to a party where it is bring your own beverage, pointing out my sleeping bag and pillow in the backseat (as I'm responsible). Nothing. I point out that sitting next to me is a container with six pounds of gummy bears soaking in vodka.

NOT what to point out. His eyes light up. Now to me, this proves I'm going to a house party because why *else* would one have SIX POUNDS of gummy bears. For ANY reason. Cop evidentally thinks that the easiest way for me to drink isn't going to a bar, isn't sitting at my house, but driving around. I'm 29. I can drink in my house. Why would I drive around and drink? Yes, there are lots of bottles of alcohol there, but give me a break.

Anyway, he is without a breathalizer (can he do that?) and so gives me manual dexterity tests. Which I fail miserably. (You sing the alphabet backwards, BUT starting with U and continuing to J. Heck, I ddin't even understand what he wanted. Or standing on one foot. I can't do that sober. And I'm pleading with him to give me a breathalizer, take a pee sample, anything at all because I haven't been drinking. Really and truly. In fact, I had one beer at the Treehouse after football, and that may have been all the alchohol I've had all week. After about 10 minuntes, a second cop car comes, and I pass the breathalizer and am sent on my way to get drunk.

And a friend sent me this email:

On Wednesday, at two minutes and three seconds after 1:00

in the morning, the time and date will be…

01:02:03 04/05/06

That will never happen again.

Fun. Though let's be perfect clear, I will be sleeping at that point. Why? Because that's what Stephanie's do. So I guess that I'll miss this momentus occasion.
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