otpid/web huggingface dataset:
Ireland Day 6 - The Liberties   We started our day with a long walk from O'Connell St. to Heuston Station and the nearby  museum of modern art .  As with all modern art, I found it to be pretty hit or miss (though the hits were plenty impressive) but the best/creepiest part of the museum is that it's housed in an old military hospital (the Royal Hospital Kilmainham) so it's a little like looking at art in the middle of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.  The 'formal gardens' also feature some cool sculptures.  Next stop, for me, was the Guinness Storehouse, where I snapped plenty of images for use in my upcoming class this fall.     I also got a picture of a nice quote from Rupert Guinness:  We are brewers and always have been; and in our brewing we have sought, and we seek, to ally the traditions and craftsmanship of the past with the best that science has to teach us.  The tour itself was actually pretty interesting, though I suppose my expectations were set pretty low.  I particularly enjoyed the tasting, when we sniffed, swished, sniffed, then drank.  The typical pint is too full to allow for swishing to pop a few bubbles, so it was kind of cool to notice the increase, and change, in odor when that famous head goes down a bit.  The gravity bar, where you get your pint, was a bit too overrun with tourists to allow for any sort of quiet reflection, but it does provide for some nice pictures                       While I was drinking, Mom was checking out St. Patrick's Cathedral, which we'll come back to, because I trekked over to meet her and we went next door to the small  Marsh's Library , which everyone should go see.     The exhibit changes every 6 months, but the one I saw included Newton's Principia Mathematica!  Be still my heart!  I just stood there grinning like an idiot with my little sweaty palm pressed against the glass.  The librarian, and my Mom, laughed at me a bit.  But a few cases later were copies of Chaucer and Shakespeare and Mom let out a little gasp too.  After Marsh's closed we headed back to St. Patrick's     for evensong.  Now that's my idea of religion.  Seriously - the sopranos hit notes that made me feel closer to God.  And I'm not using hyperbole.  We rounded out our day, and kept up the musical theme, with some lovely authentic Irish music back at Kiely's, where I was pleasantly surprised to find a colleague of mine playing a bodhran!
My husband is away.  This means we live life a little differently than 'everyday'.  For some reason, being freed of making a 'proper' nightly meal offers me much more time to do things. Perhaps it's the time of day i'm most active ? Who knows.  So last night we had cheese and bikkies for dinner ( it's ok, there was fruit  and veg  .. okay .. just fruit then, during the day ) and watched the ultra-camp "    Celebrity Singing Bee    " ( whereas normally, the boy would have to retire to his room because it's his bedtime, and CSI would be on )       God, we had fun. It's was 80's night. I romped it in, and i'm sure the boys were impressed with my karaoke skills. Absolutely.  I pick my audiences wisely.   I hope I don't scar them for life..
Me in front of a favourite Marcel Duchamp "painting/sculpture".     Stagg on balcony of MOMA>     It really cracks me up how much Europeans like the animals in North America. This squirel was a star and he posed for pics. Most European countries killed all their bears in the Middle Ages.  So...we got into New York very early the other morning. I couldn't sleep in so we caught a 6 o'clock bus from D.C. We were going to meet up with an anthropologist for an interview.  I had tried to find some place QUIET in NYC for an interview. HA! I tried a major venue...after one of the managers offered a space. I won't say who...but they cancelled the night before. I started calling...and I thought wait...what about the Algonquin Hotel. Well a fabulous manager , named Jenna, helped us out and arranged at the last minute for the Oak Room.  This is the hotel where Faulkner stayed. Where Dorthy Parker and her pals had lively repartee. I was thrilled. So I woke up early. We had an amazing afternoon in the legendary hotel where room service took great care of us. We also saw the house hotel cat...so cute I took video. We had a greasy spoon breakfast first thing off the bus. We walked with our suitcases...and the coolers for dozens of blocks through Times Square.  (yes, I pack coolers of food, basically breakfast, like yogurt, rye crackers, cream and swiss cheese, olives, grapes and peaches...saves the hassle of finding breakfast or leaving the room...and a few bucks every day on breakfast) (this is low budget film making at its best folks...ok I'm ghetto!)  We had an amazing visit at the MOMA yesterday. The museum had a special exhibit of Dali and films. The best part of the blockbuster show was a room from  Spellbound  by Hitchcock. There was a huge matte repainting from one of the dream sequences and several oil paintings made by Dali for dset design for the film. Outstanding!           Dali loved the Marx brothers especially Harpo. To show his affection he sent Harpo a harp strung with barbed wire. In return Harpo sent Dali a photo of himself with bandaged fingers.  I have been craving soup. No seriously, I've been in heat no less than 95 degrees (305 celcius) and all I'm craving is soup. I've had French Onion soup four times this past week.  Last night we went for a manicure/pedicure...and I had a facial. Ouch. I haven't had a facial in ages. It felt liek small razors slicing my face. But today...I look ten years younger. I can not recommend strenuously enough...go for a facial once a month!!! Do not procrastinate like I did. Oh, it feels heavenly today.  We were sitting in a cafe patio having a pint at W.4th and Jones when Stagg says, "Candy, it's Steve Earle". I turn around..."For real.". We stayed cool...but Steve passed by us close enough for us to tug on his T-shirt. He was giving a tour around Manhattan with three Emos.
Well, I decided it’s finally time to get to all the hail dents on the Toronado.  Except for the fact that nobody around here sells the right color of paint.  If I were smart I would have stocked up.  But no.  I’m not smart.  Luckily Biebs was able to score some for me from Home Depot in Hays.  Saweet!  So I was looking at maybe starting the sand and fill the MANY MANY hail dents this weekend.   And then I’m heading over to drop of my rent check and the landlord is there.  She says, “Hey, here’s that paint you asked for to paint the house!”  Hooray!  Which I am also excited about.  Finally get some paint on the gawd awful trim on this house.  So that’s gonna take priority.  Except that I don’t have a ladder.  Gotta get a ladder.  Only its hard to haul a ladder home in either a Toronado, or a Mustang.  If only I had…oh…an El Camino!
First things first. I was invited to attend an Alexandria book club reading   May Day   on Saturday, and it was a blast! I was wondering where all the    smart, hip chicks (besides the ones I work with) were hiding out in this town, and now I know! Great food, great fun, great wine, and some good ghost stories. That's a Saturday night worth having, I tell you. And what really tickled me was that the host of the party lives on Britney's Lane, which was named after Britney Spears. Hee hee! She hates that. The host, not Britney Spears.   Next: I overheard this at the riddle booth at the Ren Fest and can't for the life of me solve it. Suggestions? "I have no mother and no father and was born without skin. I made a noise at birth and haven't made a sound since. Who am I?"     And finally, the local grocery stopped carrying my favorite cereal, Rice Twice, and so now I had to order a case of it online. What is this world coming to? It's delicious, by the way. Crispy brown rice mixed with puffed rice--crunchy, puffy, sweet! You should order yourself a gross and be cool like me.
The kids and I headed to Redskins Park to watch the team practice for Fan Day. It was 100 degrees and there were thousands of fans. It took us over 3 hours to get to the park and by the time we got there (it took about an hour to travel about 2-3 miles), the team decided to head in and cool off.  I didn't blame them as it was very hot, though we were told the game started around 2:30 and we got to the gate around 2:50. The dummies that were running the gate decided not to let a bunch of fans in. It was crazy that these fans had traveled all the way to see the team, buy food and drinks, buy merchandise, and even support the team as a whole, and these idiots running the front gate wouldn't let them in.  We got in, but just at the last few minutes and because we were smart enough to go around back and get out of the crowd befoe they shut off access. I felt bad for all these fans that had taken a whole day to come out and because some stupid idiot decided to not take this into account probably impacted hundreds of fans perceptions of The Redskin organization. Because these young guys at the front gate wouldn't let these fans at least come in and look at the field or see the trophies or take pictures, the negative impact is going to be felt for years.  The Redskins probably can afford to piss off loyal fans as they have plenty of them, but if you continue to run an organization with this mentality it will come back someday, and I am very confident that this day is coming, just not sure when.                                   Cold Kiwi Blog
Prof X was alone at the IB Lobby when I first saw him. He was deeply thinking, and he looked terribly baffled. He suddenly gazed at my direction when he heard me approaching, and he smiled at me. After a while, he asked me curiously: 'You're an Econ major right?' I replied with glee:'Yes, sir.' Prof X smiled again and he patted me on my left shoulder before asking me: 'You won't shift,right?' I nodded at him. 'Good,' he said, then he bid goodbye to me...   After that incident, I never had again the chance to talk with Prof X, although I often saw him at the CSS faculty room or at the IM Plaza,chit-chatting with his students, mostly fresman, and fellow professors. This happened because, one, I was quite afraid of Prof X because he was one of the 'terror profs' in the university; two, I was very busy during that time on my research on the environmental impacts of mining industries in the Philippines; and, three,  I learned from the college secretary that Prof X was conducting an intensive research on Cordilleran culture because he was invited by DLSU main campus to speak at the forum! Given these situations, i finally disposed off the idea of having a serious talk with Prof X.
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I didn’t know what to call this post because I’ve been busy and has no time to blog and as a result a host of blog posts has accumulated in my head and I’m going to put them all together now in this one post. Maybe I should call it  Rojak Post  but I think I did that once. Haha.   So, what have I been up to this week? Well, I’ve been to the  Income Tax  Dept to enquire why I hadn’t received any forms this year (yeah I know its late to enquire but I simply did not have the time). When I called up earlier, I was informed that my address on the system shows my old address.  Well, when I filed my returns last year, I had put in my new address but it did not show up. Sigh. Eventually when I turned up at the office, they said my address has been changed because they have received my last year’s returns but not my husbands. Hmmm…. We had gone to deliver it by hand last year dropping our individual forms into the box one after the other. Strange that they received one and not the other. So I got the address sorted out and they photocopied hubby’s last year’s return forms.  *grumble grumble grumble*
Like most people retelling travel stories, you're either going to be one of those people that hate it or enjoy it. I find that there's no in between, and that the latter group is a small bunch. Regardless, I'll talk about the holiday if only to provide those people who do hate the experience a way out in saying "I read your post".   The holiday started in Sydney, on the 27th of June. I was driven to the airport by my parents who were sure to see me to security. This wasn't my first holiday overseas without them, though it was my first trip outside of Australia without anyone else accompanying me. Nor was I headed to a country with family, and I wasn't meeting any pre-arranged persons until the 21st of July. What worried my  parents  mother the most, I suspect, wasn't that I was going on the holiday as a whole, or going on a tour - certainly the tour takes care of you by itself - but rather the day 'in limbo' that I had planned. I had a day to myself in Los Angeles, before the tour started, where I had to be (and this is a dangerous word to use around this house) independent. I had to make my way from the airport to my hotel, entertain myself for hours, get some sleep, then the next morning get to where the tour started.
"Is this yours?"  My friend lifted a bottle of Dreft from my shopping cart.  Problem:  I hadn't paid for it and we were now in the Target parking lot, loading our cars, my son screaming from the back seat.  I was frantic.  I hadn't seen it around the mammoth thing I call a car seat.   I nodded.  "Uh. . . uh . . . "  I stammered in my ever increasingly common brainless mommy way.  "I don't know what to do."
I had the opportunity today to visit with my ailing grandfather who is approaching his 85th birthday. Doctors have told him he has cancer, along with Parkinson’s and other breakdowns an 85 year old body can have. I was supposed to be in Guyana this week, but the Lord strongly told me not to go, but go visit my family.   My grandfather was always my hero when I was a young boy growing up. The joy of our entire summer was when we got to visit Ormond Beach for a couple of weeks during our school break. He is a man that always has a funny story or joke to tell. And he has the ability to ease the tension in any (loud) conversation. I think I may get my corny-ness from him! That’s not an indictment against him; he tried to teach me better!
A couple of weeks ago I came across my hibernating Minimalist Cardigan while I was fishing around in my yarn stash (I don't even remember why I was in there) and I had the sudden urge to work on it again, so out it came! I had set it aside about two-thirds of the way up the back, so I polished that off in a couple of days and whipped through the fronts pretty quickly.       I was going to wait to block the whole thing at one time, but I gave in to the urge and now the fronts and back have been wet-blocked and are pinned out on the spare bedroom mattress. I would have done it yesterday except my mom stayed with us last night to attend an early morning meeting. It saves her having to leave their house at the butt-crack of dawn to get down here in time. Nothing says "comfortable guest room" like "wet wool smell and pins in the mattress," am I right?  Meanwhile, I knit half a pair of Garter Rib socks:       It served  as a nice distracting from the red socks that I started, oh, a month ago. The red socks are winning and are now hibernating to think about what they've done.
I of course don't mean that.  My brother Paul, his lovely wife Pat and their fantastic two kids left yesterday.  They were here for a week and we had the  best time ever .  Imagine having company who truly and honestly hope that you've gone to no trouble whatsoever.  As long as coffee's on, there are a few magazines to read and comfy chairs they're happy.  We all went to the cottage where we spent hours at the beach, Derick took everyone out in the paddleboat, the kids fished and fought with foam swords, Pat and I got caught up on the real news in all the trashy magazines and a good time was had by all.    Back in Seattle we visited Pike Place Market (Rosie was not happy with throwing dead salmon as entertainment, but we did rub the pig's nose for luck).  And we toured downtown Seattle a bit more than we had planned due to my inability to enter the right numbers in the GPS (but I made up for it by wheeling the Canyonaro into really tight parking spots and backwards down really narrow streets).  They all left yesterday and we miss them already.
I finished the last painting for the show in my hotel room at 5pm and got it to the gallery to frame and hang by 6.15pm, just fifteen minutes before the opening party was scheduled to begin.    A fire-eater entertained guests as they arrived and waiters in my  PORNO  t-shirts moved among them with trays of  hors d'oeuvres . The gallery space filled very quickly and for the next three hours, it was never less than a capacity crowd. Unusually, everyone looked as if they were enjoying themselves and the good mood of the room became infectious. Also unusually, everyone took time to look at the work.   I chatted with collectors, posed for photographs and signed  PORNO  t-shirts. "Just so you know, you're really admired by the local lesbian community," one young woman told me.           Julianne Schultz, the editor of the  Griffith REVIEW , gave a speech from a low stage set up at one end of the gallery then I got up to thank everyone who'd had a hand in organising the exhibition. Half an hour later, singer Deborah Conway took to the stage with her partner, Willy Zygier, and did a memorable set. Afterwards, I presented her with a small, framed watercolour I painted in Thailand a year ago.     I finally slipped away around 9.45pm with my father, whom I hadn't seen for three years, and a few friends to dine at a nearby French restaurant. There were still scores of people milling around inside the gallery. Maybe next time I'll host an all-night party.
Filed under:  Screens        Okay, so   Disaster: Day of Crisis   is   definitely coming  . Nintendo just dumped an almighty batch of almost 70 (mainly new) screens on our local press site, all of which you can find  here . They mainly feature Wolverine look-a-like Ray as he takes on well-known natural disasters such as  infernos ,  flooding , uhm,  terrorists  and ...  bears .   There's still no word on a release date, though this sudden burst of media fills us with bright-eyed hope, being the naïve, optimistic fools that we are.     Gallery: Disaster: Day of Crisis                   [Via press release]        Permalink  |  Email this  |  Linking Blogs  |  Comments                          Ads by Google
Today we went down to the Children’s Museum in Indianapolis. What a great place. I hadn’t been there since I was a little kid. In fact, all I remembered from then was the ramps going from floor to floor. The kids and I had gotten up and lazed about the house a little bit. It became clear we’d go crazy if we stayed home.    The first couple of exhibits we looked at - mostly the Super Heroes one - prompted the return of  Sobby McSobs-Alot . The main difficulty was that the Batman costumes they had available were too big for him and there was no Spiderman outfit. And he didn’t want to settle for just a cape. There was some residual sobbing up on the 3rd floor at a water table where he was using a toy fishing rod. He wanted to go look at some other things in the area, but he loved his fishing rod so much he couldn’t bear the thought of someone else taking it if he left it. (Harper and I were doing a fish puzzle as he was parting ways with his fishing pole). Generally, however, he got less sensitive as the day went along. We rode the carousel - Cole got a “moose” (I think it was a reindeer). Harper opted for a sleigh chair. We built boats — some minor trauma as the sail fell off one and another capsized. (These weren’t the most seaworthy vessels to hit the water.) The Dinosaur area was a big hit. They did some excavating and really enjoyed putting on their “scientist” coats and hanging out in the paleontology area. We had just enough time to go look at the trains before the museum was about to close. They end their day by having a “parade” down the ramps, marching and waving flags. This was Cole’s favorite part.
I got a call from the camp today. I called and asked if he was okay and if he had ever received the box of candy we sent. I kept wanting to call before this, but after last year, I was reluctant to since the other camp lied to me anyway, and I assumed that this camp would as well. After all, it's not like they have any legal obligation to tell the truth or even give a shit if he is really okay.  Seriously, in Ontario, we have regulations for the people who care for our kids in schools and daycares and just about every other place----but not camps, not even sleepaway camps.  So I should hardly be surprised to find out that today he got into an accident on the trampoline, and his knee connected with his eyebrow. (Don't ask me how, it seems impossible to me as well.) He split open his eyebrow and bled everywhere. He needed two stitches, and the camp doctor put them in.  He is supposedly fine---but how can I be sure if I am not there to see? He could be dying for all I know and they have no obligation to tell me shit. Plus I am unhappy that they stitched him instead of gluing him and now he will have a scar. Long story short---because of all of Mac's mishaps I know the the current best practice is to glue cuts together with a special sterile superglue instead of stitching unless it's on a stress point, like a knee or an elbow.  And Mr.Cotta does not understand why I am upset. He thinks it's no big deal. He actually just went out and left me all alone worried and freaked out.  And he wonders why I hate sleepaway camp so utterly totally and completely? Does he even know me, or understand me at all?  And the joke is that this camp is supposed to be an excellent one, the type that caters to concerned parents who actually like their children, as opposed to the super cold WASP detached parenting camp we sent him to last year.  His face is permanently scarred now. My baby's face will never be the same, and all because of some stupid camp.
I have a funny feeling that this outs me as a closet prude, but I nearly fainted at the sight of VIBRATORS in the regular shelves of my local Rite Aid, just sitting there next to the pregnancy tests and ovulation kits. I mean, I'm all for whatever floats your boat, obviously (particularly during the time of Duty Sex), but I've never seen them just casually resting there, all sex-toy like in a small-town drugstore. And they're the PINK kind with the … well, with the thing that can only be described as a HEAD. What it boils down to is that I don't think I could buy a vibrator from the same man who knows my name and regularly fills my Synthroid prescription. I'd prefer to do that kind of shopping in a store where everyone's there for the same thing and is likely a LOT kinkier than me, you know?    Oh hi! I'm a PRUDE.
For the first time in many, many years, I’m riding in black leather over the East River toward Manhattan. Lamont, the 67-year-old man driving the Towncar, has already explained why he lives in New York: “I love the night life.” He said that he hopes to die at 94, “killed by somebody’s husband.”   He told me about all the bigshots who had sat where I was sitting. His favorite client, Willie Mays, rode with him all over New Jersey, only to pretend to forget him when they ran into each other at a hospital. Mays walked right past Lamont, and told Lamont’s buddy (who had refused to believe Lamont really knew Mays): “He’s a good fella but he don’t where the hell he’s going. We stayed lost that whole day.”
This is the single most stupefying thing to happen to me in a long time. I had no idea it was even possible, yet, here I am.   When hubby and I bought the house two years ago I borrowed money from one of the great middle class Piggy Banks of Life - my 401K. The first and only withdraw from my 401K - a down payment on a house.  Seems reasonable enough, right? Not for a vacation, not for a trivial pursuit.  But for a Home.