The Tip is in the Water

So, this week was an exciting week for me, relatively speaking. I was graced by the presence of my lovely past and future roommate Coleen* for a couple of days, and we enjoyed thrifting and hanging out with various peeps from A---, where I live.

However, this evening was not so wonderful. Coleen, my friend Marissa, and I decided to go out to dinner at this cute little place we had seen downtown earlier that morning. It was an Italian ristorante called O---. We hopped out of the car, and the restaurant appeared completely empty, despite it being seven o'clock on a Thursday evening, and we hesitatingly decided to go inside anyway. *Cue chilling orchestral music.*

We were indeed the only people in the place, aside from the servers and the cooks in the back. The decor was very pretty, and looking at the menu, it seemed like what I would have expected to find at any typical restaurant from when I studied in Italy. Foolish children that we were, we were heartened by the interior and menu. Our vaguely creepy waiter offered us a tempting array of waters, and I was suckered into ordering some of the sparkling variety.

While that was in the works, Coleen and I excitedly discussed menu options, while poor Marissa seemed a tad lost amongst the Italinate language of the food descriptions. Then we realized that the vaguely creepy waiter was someone from Marissa's past--the very SAME creeper waiter who had hit on her dining buddy for a solid 20 minutes at a DIFFERENT restaurant, ignoring all other customers including Marissa herself. Well, if the complete emptiness hadn't made us suspicious, this character's shady past sure did.

I suppose I should identify what made this particular server creepier than other servers at ordinary restaurants. He is one of a disturbing trend of overly attentive (in a bad way) waiters who insist on doing things like putting the left-overs in a doggy bag for us, or kneeling down to take our orders, or making awkward small talk, or leaning over the table for any reason whatsoever. Now, lest you naysayers cry "nay" upon me, I have several friends who have at one time or another worked in the food service industry. I have a great respect for the immense load of crap that servers have to put up with on an ordinary basis. So when I complain about a server, it is not without great cause. Also, I always tip 20% percent unless there is a very good reason not to. So don't even start complaining, O Faithful Readers mine.

Anyways, back to the story. Coleen made awkward small talk--admittedly initiated by her--and she and I ordered appetizers. They came shortly thereafter, once the waiter had reached over me to pour my personal-sized water. Well, two appetizers arrived. One was the caprese salad we had ordered, complete with a hair on the plate. Yum! The second was a house salad that I don't even think was on the menu. That was sent back and our tomato tart was brought out. It consisted of a stewed, peeled, testicle-like tomato on top of goat cheese and a tart thing. You can't really mess up caprese salad, since its just tomato, mozzarella, and basil, so hairs aside it wasn't too bad. The tomato tart thing was just too weird to be enjoyed. Maybe someone with a more "sophisticated palate" than I would have appreciated it. Unbeknownst to Coleen and I, Marissa doesn't like tomatoes, so she did not partake. (Sorry, Marissa.)

Then we ordered dinner, hoping it would improve. Marissa and I decided to split a cannelloni with Italian sausage and ricotta. Coleen got shrimp and spaghetti. Unfortunately, I had forgotten how spicy Italian sausage is, and Marissa doesn't like spicy food. She was all set to switch with Coleen, except that she doesn't like shrimp. (Marissa is NOT a picky eater; this was just an unfortunate combination of ingredients.) So my poor friend, on top of being embarrassed about our encounters with the waiter, only ate noodles for dinner. : (

The actual dinner food wasn't too bad, but definitely NOT worth the $17 per portion. I mean, noodles, red sauce, ricotta, and sausage do not $17 make. And that's not including appetizers. And then we got the bill.

My sparkling water, which I had so enjoyed, which had been creepily poured for me not once, but TWICE by a leaning waiter, was FOUR dollars. For a 16 ounce bottle of WATER. What the FRICK.

Well, that was the final straw for me. For a dinner that was unenjoyable at best, my overpriced beverage was just too much for my poor student self to handle. Unfortunately, law required us to pay the bill. We slapped down some cold, hard, anonymous cash on the table. There was no tip, however. I really, REALLY wanted to write "The tip is in the water" on the check, but my BFFs wanted to bolt.

...

Then we got ice cream. The kind with chocolate and peanut butter. And all was well.


*All names have been changed to protect the anonymity of my BFFs. And also the crappy restaurant where we ate. (I just typed "where we hate". Freudian slip? I think so.) Because I'm decent like that.

Walkin' Along with My Fruity Oaty Bars

Shew. It has been WAY too long since my last post. I have had a lot of lazy summer nothingness going on, which I suppose could be a testament to my idleness OR a reason not to write blog entries about nothing. You choose.

I have, however, started exercising, walking three miles a day. I'm not one for working out, but I've realized that, however much I weigh, I do need to at least be in shape. My boyfriend and I have been keeping it up for the last three weeks or so, and already I feel as though I have much more energy (being usually a lethargic, lounging type person) AND I even want to start jogging.

Today was the first day of my jogging adventures. I'm trying to work my way up to a mile, which will be a big deal to me, since I've never been able to run that far in my life. (First, however, I must invest in a decent sports bra. These D-cups can't handle a mile's worth of up-and-down.) Naturally, my already swelling runner's ego is telling me that I need to start eating things like power bars that have lots of nuts and oats and other things made by woodland creatures. Also, my walking buddy/boyfriend was complaining about cereal sloshage, so I wanted to make him something...stickier...for a pre-workout meal.

So after an arduous afternoon of clicking around on the internet for recipes, I ambled on over to Kroger (Ha ha! Just kidding. I got a friend to drive me. My workout for the day was over at 11 a.m.) and purchased the necessary ingredients. I proceeded home and made a double batch, leaving a sinkful of soapy dishes for one of my parents to deal with. (Ha ha! Sucks to your asthmar, Mom and Dad!...I mean, thank you for buying me food and letting me mooch during the summer.)

Here is the recipe I used:


Peanut-butter Oatmeal Energy Bars

cooking spray
1/2 c. honey
1/2 c. peanut butter
2 tbsp. maple syrup
1 tbsp. canola oil
1/4 c. light brown sugar
1/4 tsp. cinnamon (I used a whole teaspoon, because I LOVE cinnamon)
1 tsp. vanilla
2 c. rolled oats
2 c. crisp brown rice cereal
1/4 c. toasted wheat germ (for protein!)
1/2 c. chopped roasted peanuts
1/2 c. chopped dried apricots
1/2 c. chopped dried figs (I used raisins, since I don't like figs)
1/2 tsp. kosher salt

1. Spray a 9 x 13" baking dish with cooking spray and set aside.

2. In a small saucepan over medium heat, combine honey, peanut butter, maple syrup, canola oil, brown sugar, cinnamon. Stir and cook until mixture just begins to bubble, about 3-5 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in vanilla.

3. In a large bowl, combine oats, rice cereal, wheat germ, peanuts, apricots, figs, and salt.

4. Pour peanut butter mixture over oatmeal mixture and stir gently with a spatula until well combined. Transfer to baking dish, cover with parchment paper and press firmly into dish. Allow to cool completely (this goes faster in the fridge). Cut into squares or bars.

Makes around 14 bars.


I didn't press them down terribly firmly, so they're a little crumbly, but very delicious. They're very moist, and while it's cooking, the peanut butter mixture smells AMAZING. These were a big hit with my dad, who likes all things trail mix. They're 240 calories each, which I think is perfectly acceptable for breakfast or a snack before a run, especially since they're loaded with protein.

So while I may not become a health nut anytime soon, I think I could definitely be converted to liking wheat germ, whatever the heck that is.*

*Actually, according to Wikipedia, wheat germ is some part of a seed that contains 28% protein. You can add it to lots of recipes for an extra protein boost. Look for wheat germ in the oatmeal section.

Summer School Blues

*Note: "Blues" in the titles of this post refer to a genre of music, not an emotional description or series of paintings by Klein.

So, I'm taking summer school. This is the first time I have ever taken summer school. It has its ups and downs (which I am about to chronicle here in case you hadn't guessed.)

The DOWNS (not the syndrome. That would just be mean.)

1. I can no longer sleep until noon every day. This is a big one for me, since I often sleep until noon even during the school year. I like to think that I'm merely on a different schedule than everyone else. You know, like people in California. They are pretty much on the same schedule as I am. Well, actually, Hawaii might be more accurate. The point being, I have to wake up before noon if I am to arrive at class on time, and it's weirding me out.

2. The commute from my house to the university is long. Ordinarily, I do not think of it as long, since it is only an hour from my house to the parking lot, but ordinarily, I do not drive this route more than once a month. Now I drive it every day, and it's boring. I'm running out of music, and I can't read while I'm driving because that would just be silly. My mom has tried to foist her books-on-tape on me (which she stole from my godfather), but the only things she has are John Grisham and others of his ilk and Harry Potter. (I love HP, but I have already read those books about 8,000 times apiece.)

3. My homework takes a long time, and we have a quiz every day. Except for the days we have tests, of course. I have taken to studying for the quizzes before class and during our bathroom break. It seems to be working fairly well.

4. Parking is a bitch. You would not believe how hard it is to find a good free space. I'm one of those paranoid people would normally refuse to park anywhere that is not completely legit, but summer school is wearing down my standards. I have taken to parking in the lot reserved for the freshers and their parents during orientation, which is going on all month. From there it is a 30-minute hike up a small mountain in 105 degree weather to class. AND the other day, the brilliant university had turned this very same parking lot into a handicapped-only parking lot! (Which makes me wonder if they decided to have all the handicapped come to orientation on the same day. I think that's racist.) I parked there anyway and narrowly avoided a ticket, pealing out of the lot right when Mr. Parking Ticket Man started his rounds. Shew. Now I just park in one of the reserved garages which, still illegal, is at least in the shade. And my new spot is technology-center adjacent for when...

5. ...my computer gets a horrible virus that destroys everything. My laptop caught a virus from my desktop computer via a corrupted USB drive. (I feel many STD-related jokes could be made about unprotected ports, but I'll refrain.) Today I had to take dear ol' Lappy to the technology nerds at the technology center for their omnipotent wisdom. And I must say, they have a pretty sweet setup. Which leads to number 6...

6. I don't work at the technology center. Let's set aside the fact that I do not possess the skills to work in IT, and contemplate the fact that they have a 20-foot projector screen and get to watch Iron Man all day. AND they get paid! Sigh. I'm in the wrong field.

And now for the UPS (not the postal service. Maybe I should give up on all caps.)

1. My class is tiny and all the people in it seem pretty cool. I like classes that are nice and intimate, and there's nothing like an archaic language to bring people together in a bond of hate and frustration so tight you would think that they were family. For who else but family would whisper the answer when you forget what the pluperfect conjugation of "to wish" looks like. Or help you remember what the passive periphrastic is? We must love each other a lot.

2. Long-term rewards. Now, I know we humans like to THINK we're so much better than all other of God's humble creatures because a Titan named Prometheus blessed us with the ability to look into the future, but...

Myth Time

Long ago, at the beginning of time, the Titan Prometheus, whose name means "fore-thinker," decided to make humans. So he did. Everything would have been fine if it hadn't been for Prometheus' dumb-ass brother Epimetheus, who he enlisted to help. While Epimetheus pounded on the clay that was to become humanity, some of his idiocy wore off, and we inherited it. Epimetheus' name, consequently, means "he who acts before he thinks." As a result, humans have the ability to plan ahead, but it is clouded by our Epimethean judgment, which seeks instant gratification. And that is why we now have high-speed internet, but it is also why we do stupid things that will hurt us in the future.

Channeling my Promethean heritage, I opted to take this summer school class so that I would get ahead in my studies. And I'm glad I did. It's just that Epimetheus, on my other shoulder, sometimes makes me forget it.

And now I should probably do my homework.

Neuroses and Nymphets

Well, it’s almost summertime, and summertime means I do lots of reading. Especially at the beach. That’s my favorite. No beach yet, but I do have a whole stack o’ books from Amazon to read, and one of them is Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov. Intending to read that made me think about last summer when I read Lolita, Mr. Nabokov’s most famous novel.

I think Vlad was quite ahead of his time when he used the term “nymphet” and chronicled Humbert Humbert’s obsession with a tweenage girl. Bear with me as this train of thought leaves the station. Lolita was written in 1955. The first supermodel, Twiggy (sorry Janice Dickinson, but you know I’m right.), rose to fame in 1966. She changed the shape of modeling with her thin, androgynous look, which has been prominent in high fashion ever since. Models have long been considered the ideals of beauty in our society—though many today would argue that statement. Could Nabokov have predicted that, fifty years after the publication of his novel, the world would be populated by Humbert Humberts? Popular culture and the media are currently obsessed with androgynous stick people; these people are nymphets.

Kind of sickening, right? Lolita is scandalous specifically because it is so bizarre that a man could be obsessed with an age and a shape that has not yet become truly female. You see, a “nymphet” (according to Nabokov) describes not only a girl between 9 and 14 years of age, but also one whose figure is decidedly undeveloped.

Have you seen some of those models? Often they enter the industry in their early teens, around 12 or 14 years of age. After their adolescence, models (and celebrities) are under constant pressure to maintain the same body type they had when they were pre-pubescent.

Now, Twiggy was naturally thin. Some people are. There is nothing wrong with that. Also, as an artistic individual, I understand that clothes hang better on people who are shaped like rectangles. They stay nice and smooth. I understand why fashion designers might prefer slender models. There is something wrong, however, when society pressures all women to adhere to a body type that is not their own natural shape. Most women are shaped like, well, women. There are most likely curves involved.

Now, ask most people off the street, and they will tell you that they like curvy women (and I’m talking about women AND men). Soooo…why is nothing being done about it? Why are celebrity gossip magazines constantly criticizing celebrities in bikinis (a la Jennifer Love Hewitt)? Why does America’s Next Top Model constantly flip-flop between thinking plus-sized models are acceptable or the bane of the industry?

Sometimes my dad is forced to watch ANTM against his will. Whenever this happens, he always says, “The only people who are trying to force women to be stick-people are other women and gay men—who don’t even like women!” (He says this because he is a good daddy who makes his daughters feel secure about themselves, though he is entirely un-PC.) I think he has a point.

Let’s spread the love. Let’s value actresses (excuse me, “female actors”) for their acting ability and let them take their vacations in peace. Let’s like ourselves and our shapes, whatever they may be. It’s not going to happen unless the common people stop paying attention to US Weekly and stop using the word “skinny” a compliment*.

And when we do that, maybe we can conquer the evil that is bikini waxing.

*Positive adjectives for your convenience: slender, svelte, lean, lithe, willowy, and trim.

It's a Double Feature!

I think a lot about movies. I come from a family of movie-watchers. One of our favorite games is to match actors to their roles in other movies. As we get older, the game grows more obscure. While watching a movie, we might shout out, "I know where I've seen that bellhop before! He's Extra #3 from The Magnificent Seven! You know, that Mexican who hands Yul Brynner his pistol right before being shot by Tuco from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly."

Anyways, I think I've got pretty good taste in movies, so I've chosen to do a Double Feature! review of the two movies I've seen in theaters lately: Sunshine Cleaning and Star Trek.

Sunshine Cleaning (4 of 4 stars)*

This excellent and poignant film follows the lives of two quirky sisters. Amy Adams plays a single mother struggling to provide for her son working as a domestic maid while trying to maintain her affair with her married high school sweetheart AND aspiring to get a real estate license. Emily Blunt is her apathetic younger sister who has yet to truly come to terms with her mother's suicide and find her place in the world. Both actresses' performances hit it out of the park. Adams is her usual charming, slightly disheveled self. You kind of want to give her a hug and a day planner. Her acting goes much deeper than that, however, as you forget that she is that chick from Enchanted and start worrying about her troubles along with her and celebrating her triumphs. Blunt is snarky and funny, and her performance takes her character in a dark, psychologically profound direction.

The two sisters, on a tip that they can make a lot of cash, decide to go into business cleaning up crime scenes. The movie realistically follows the sister's mishaps as they enter the business with no prior knowledge, and it is funny, tragic, sympathetic, and real the entire way through. It is beautifully paced, with just the right amount of catharsis. The leading actors' performances are all stand-out, and they include Alan Arkin as the sisters' kooky salesman father and Jason Spevack as Adams's son. Spevack's performance is nuanced and in no way relates to Hollywood's typical smart-aleck, "cute" children from movies like Sleepless in Seattle. (Sigh of relief.) Another great character is Clifton Collins's portrayal of the one-armed, model airplane-building, industrial cleaning supplier who inadvertantly gets ensnarled in the family drama.

As someone who has a sister myself, I really enjoyed this movie, which at its heart is about the relationship of love and annoyance that exists between siblings. At its emotional high points, the movie is laugh-out-loud funny, twisted, and bizzare; during its lows, it is tragic and complicated. If you have a family of any kind, you will relate to and--hopefully--love this film.

Star Trek (3 of 4 stars)

Just to explain, I don't do half stars, and I don't give 4 stars to a film unless it is absolutely oustanding, so you Trekkies out there needn't be offended. I liked this movie a lot.

Now, I am not a Trek fan. The only reason I watch Star Trek is to see William Shatner, who in my opinion, is a Golden God. I was hesitant to see this film at first, fearing its tone would be too serious and out of keeping with its predecessor. I was pleasantly surprised. I enjoyed the character development early in the film, and the casting was excellent. The most intriguing character was Mr. Spock, played by Zachary Quinto. I don't know much about Spock's history, but I felt the film gave him complexity when he could have easily been a one-dimensional person...er, Vulcan. James Kirk, as played by Chris Pine, is enthusiastic and full of energy, though he doesn't hold a candle to THE Captain Kirk, thankyouverymuch.

Zoe Saldana's Uhura was fiesty and a strong female who stood out in the boys' club that is The Enterprise. Karl Urban (whom I love!) is spot on as Bones, and Simon Pegg (that guy from Hot Fuzz) plays Scottie, who--though appearing late in the film--is thoroughly enjoyable. I wish Mr. Sulu (played by John Cho) had gotten more screen time, and I'll confess, the inner geek in me squealed in pure delight when he whipped out his fold-up katana. Anton Yelchin is really cute as the 17-year-old Chekov, who I didn't even realize was a character, but that tells you how much I know.

My main complaint about the film is the villain. Eric Bana is not recognizable as himself, and I think the extensive make-up somehow covered up his acting, too. (What would have been wrong with letting the bad guy have an Australian accent?) He mainly lurks in his pointy ship until someone from Star Fleet arrives, and then he stomps around, yelling. His motive for being a bad guy is too rudimentary to harmonize with the rest of the plot. As my dad always says, "You can judge a movie by its bad guy." I'm inclined to agree.

My other complaints are more self-indulgent. What is up with that green alien chick that Kirk was sleeping with toward the beginning? Couldn't they think of something better than making her just green? Is THAT what teenage nerds fantasize about? (I daren't think too much about THAT.) Also, *SPOILER* why couldn't Spock and Uhura get it on? Now THAT would have been interesting.


*Star graphics coming soon. I promise.

P.S. While taking a shower, I realized I had inadvertently mistaken "Dr. Spock" for "Mr. Spock." Lest I be informed of this by my wretchedly smug friends, I have chosen to preemptively correct the issue. Allow me to offer my sincerest apologies to Leonard Nimoy, Zachary Quinto, and any individual whose parents thought that Dr. Spock's Book O' Babies was a legitimate parenting strategy. You are likely insane and under enough stress as it is.

Best of the Worst...Internet Quizzes

This is hopefully the first of an on-going series of lists about the "Best of the Worst" of things I think about. Since it's summer, I've had more free time than usual, and more free time means more useless quizzes on the internet. The following are quizzes that, while completely asinine, are nevertheless fun to take (and mock) on a lazy summer afternoon:

Best of the Worst...Internet Quizzes

1. Personality Disorder Test

Okay, I'm sure you all have heard of this one. Why pay a legitimate psychiatrist to diagnose your psychological disabilities when the internet can tell you for FREE! Gosh-darned if I know!

My result: Moderately Obsessive-Compulsive. I DO like to fold Reese's wrappers and straw wrappers in neat little squares.

2. Country Quiz

How well do you know geography? This is a "best" because it quizzes legitimate, useful knowledge about our globe. This is a "worst" because it's pretty boring.

My result: 6 of 10. I don't remember South America very well.

3. How well do you understand men?

Ladeez, I know you've been dying to know about this one. See how well you understand the mystifying language of men.

This quiz is brought to the internet populous by iVillage. As my sister says, this is a site for bored pregnant women. 'Nough said.

My result: Native speaker. Okay this was oddly satisfying, since I got the highest possible result. The only drawback was that I was completely guessing on all of them, so it MIGHT have been a fluke.

4. Which internet meme are you?

The only reason this made the list is because of my entirely upsetting result.

My result: I am a Chuck Norris joke. Sigh.

5. Am I pregnant quiz?

This is a link to one of MANY similar quizzes on the internet. If you’re relying on an internet quiz to tell you whether you’re pregnant, you’re either completely addicted or completely helpless.

My result: I hope you don't have to ask, though you probably will anyway.

6. Which kind of cookie are you?

I love cookies, but this result is just sad.

My result: I'm a jam cookie. I don't even know what a jam cookie IS.

7. Are you addicted to the internet?

If you’re reading this blog, the answer is YES.

But seriously, I feel it is always an interesting moment when a subject starts to become self-introspective like this. For example, I study Anthropology, and there are some anthropologists who study the anthropology of anthropology. I always feel like when this happens, the subject is one step closer to becoming self-aware. Kind of like Hal in 2001: A Space Odyssey. Maybe the internet is going to crawl out of our computers one day and destroy the universe, or maybe I watch too much sci-fi.

My favorite question from this is "Do you block out disturbing thoughts from your own life with soothing thoughts of the internet?" OMG! ALL the time! How does it know?

My result: I am not addicted to the internet! Hooray! Now I can write a blog about it! Oh, wait…

Thank you for watching! Tune in next (insert temporal unit) for the next installment of...

The Best and the Worst

Our Crazy, Lazy Language

For those of you who don't know, I am currently teaching myself some Latin in preparation for summer school. When learning a new language, I find myself thinking about my own language. Having to memorize the oddities and exceptions of a beautiful, awkward language like Latin really makes me sympathize with people trying to learn English for the first time.

The mandatory fluency in English for immigrants to the U.S. is a topical issue in current society. I'm generally of the "all or nothing" mindset. Either we have signs in only English, or we post them in all relevant languages. Think that's unfeasible? Just go to Italy or any other European country where every sign is in four or five languages. It can be done. While I believe that people who come to live in a country should learn its language, I do think we natives could be a little more compassionate for those trying to learn. It's not an easy thing to do.

And besides, English is weird. Full of weird words. Weirds. Werds. Wirds. Wyrds. Anyway...

Some of you may remember an episode of the T.V show The Soup that spoofed reviews for the 2007 movie How She Move. The tagline was "How She Move revolutionize grammar." And really, it makes sense. Think about it.

I move, you move, he/she/it moves, we move, y'all move, they move

Notice any odd ones out? Why can't we regularize these outliers, instead of having to memorize infinite irregularities of our mother tongue?

Along that same line of thought, why do we have a contraction for "aren't" but not one for "am't"? We're forced to ask, "I'm verbose, aren't I?" when the un-contracted form (are not I) doesn't grammatically make sense.

In high school I studied German. I've always loved German because you can create a legitimate new word by mashing together any number of words that describe the object. Invent a device that can vacuum, dust, mop, and sweep? Staubsaugerstaubtuchbauschauskehrerding. It's now a word. Pretty sweet, eh?

There are over 600,000 words in the Oxford English Dictionary. According to the BBC article "The words in the mental cupboard," the average English speaker knows between 50,000 and 75,000. This strikes me as incredibly depressing. They say that the study of Latin expands a person's vocabulary by around 80,000 words. In the five months I've been studying Latin, it has given me great delight to announce the roots the words I'm learning anyone within earshot. (The reaction when I proclaim, "Ah, probity. From the Latin probitas, meaning honesty," is usually rolled eyes, but it makes me feel all smart and classical.)

What is the point of my musings? I wish to encourage all of the potential word-smiths out there. Let's get off our posteriors and get creative with our language. Wouldn't our world be a lovelier and more interesting place if our daily vocabularies were varied, rather than the inane drivel that mass-media forces upon us?

And that's how she think.



Want to know how many words you know? Here is a link to the BBC article "The words in the mental cupboard."
news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/magazine/8013859.stm

You can view the aforementioned clip of The Soup here:
www.youtube.com/watch?y=oTmmzGaelX4

AYO Technology, Part 2

SUCCESS! It was touch-and-go for a while, but I have succeeded in installing the thingy to the whatsit. End result = INTERWEBS!

So, I suppose I have already spoiled the cathartic ending by telling you the result, but allow me to recount the tenseness of the situation:

For whatever reason, I decided to install the adapter last night before going to bed, instead of waiting until this "morning" (Read: noon) when I woke up to do so. I popped the instructional CD into the drive, it "whrrrrred," and finally produced a menu.

Step 1: Choose the correct product number. Let me note, all of the numbers of the similar products made by this company--Encore Electronics--are EXACTLY the same, with the exception of ONE letter hidden in the middle that is different from all the rest. Beware the unobservant, for ye shall fail. Anyways, after staring blankly at the box for a while, I figured out that mine was the one with "L" in the middle and duly selected it. Check.

Step 2: Find the instructions. Of course, when I opened up the instruction manual, apprehensively hopeful, all it said was "Step 1: Install the adapter. Step 2: When the adapter is installed, the computer should automatically detect new hardware." Argh! So no information about how to actually install the adapter inside the computer. Not to be dissuaded, I moved along to Step 3.

Step 3: Pop 'er open and see what I can make happen. I am the kind of person who likes to get things done, so I decided to forge ahead without any supervision, much like a three-year-old heading for the highway. Squatting like Cro Magnon woman in my underwear at 2 in the morning, I seized my tiny screwdriver and let my computer have it. Step 3 1/2: Remember which translucent board covered in 80,000 miniscule prongs and knobs is the motherboard. This one ALMOST threw me, except at the last minute I remembered my motherboard is green and my similar-looking video card is red. Were I colorblind, this would have been a toughie, but I prevailed.

Step 4: Plug the adapter into the motherboard slot without breaking off any of the 80,000 prongs that connect it. This took a few tries. I am extremely nervous attaching things to delicate machinery. I always expect to hear some "crunch!" or "snap!" and then have a heavenly voice shower down around me, informing me that I now have to pay $150 for whatever part I just broke.

Step 5: Close up the case and turn on the computer. In my case, I have to add "and furtively wait lest the computer emit some horrible electronic death scream." (Think R2-D2.) But it did NOT die in agony! And, like the manual promised, the computer did the rest and installed the appropriate drivers. ("Drivers" makes me think of little men driving e-cars around some unseen track in my computer to make things work.)

Lo! The internet! It connected! My wireless adapter is now installed. For a piece of electronics, it's pretty cute. It has three antennae, though, which makes me feel it was probably a freak in the adopt-an-adapter bin before I gave it a home. But it is now my little freak, and it is bringing YOU this post.