Full country Name: Eritrea (er' uh' TREE' uh)
Area: 124,320 sq km
Population: 4.4 million
People: Tigrinya (50%), Tigre; (30%), Saho and Afar (10%), Hedareb and Bilen (4.5%), Kunama, Nara and Rashaida (4%)
Language: Tigre, English, Tigrinya, Afar, Arabic
Religion: Christian (50%), Muslim (50%)
Government: nominal constitutional democracy
Head of State: President Isaias Afwerki

and per our Eritrean cabbie in Columbus:

Tourism: Italian fishermen, largely.
Noise-Pollution: Suzuki-Riding GI's
Drunk Driving: Encouraged
Law Enforcement: Quasi corrupt, and fond of a pint or seven pints or where am I?
Cabs: Possibly floored with cardboard (and outfitted with seating of the same material . . . like in Michigan, potentially?)
Ex-Patriots: Fond of perpetuating feuds betwixt midwestern (i.e. Kentuckiana vs. the Buckeyes) U.S. cities

Today is September 23rd! In an ideal world it would be Micvatrietta's birthday. But, sadly, it's not. Some thoughts:

--> "The mustaches! No! Not on the young! Mustaches are for people's fathers, and, sometimes, ugly porn stars, and also Tom Selleck, but that is it! Enough!" - A wise soul indeed

--> One of the female contestants on this season's HOT premier of ABC's The Bachelor used the word nilch as a synonym for zero. Sadly, sugarlips, 'tain't a word . . . mercenary anyone? Doesn't that mean, like, someone who shares all if not most character traits with Mother Teresa? I though so. If I find myself back in the pines of Northern Michigan next summer, rest assured that these words and non-words with their respective definitions and non-definitions will find their ways onto the HQ door alongside pictures of David Bowie standing akimbo.

--> I loved High Fidelity the second time around. I hadn't seen it since high school, and I don't remember liking it as much as I did this time. Thanks Blockbuster! Oh John Cusack. On an only slightly related note, Eternal Sunshine comes out on DVD in five days.

Yesterday I was chopping onions for this amazing salad I made, and I was really enjoying it. Chopping onions -- it ranks up there on the scale of enjoyability with blowing a perfect snot-rocket, burying one's nose in warm, freshly laundered sheets, pouring thick cream into coffee, and making a successful campfire. Totally. Living the "simple life," if you will, which I am now, I have become keenly aware of the little pleasures that make temporarily cohabitating with Karen and Rick Luther a tolerable experience. I experienced all of these this weekend, to complement a leisurely lifestyle that included biking all around the mitten on Saturday, reading at coffeeshops, napping on a courderoy chair in front of NCAA football, defending ND against aging MSU fans at church, hiking and painting my toenails at Pyramid Point, making hummus, and spending money online. pathetic? maybe. But I feel I am handling my at-home stint with ease and grace, or ease at least. Whatever.

Delightul: Rufus Wainwright is performing on October 13th at the Vic in Chicago and I bought tickets. Sweet.
It's no Burbank: New Moon Records has closed. It was the only place on Front in TC with a badass, retro neon sigh, and its absence creates a void in town for venues that sell used cds and/or vinyl. Sad. I never bought LPs there, but some people did, I guess. Additionally, now my (and everyone else's, I suppose) cd punch card -- buy 15, get one free = worst deal ever -- is void. Poo indeed.
The best Manpower misdemeanor ever (confidentiality is for chumps): A guy who came in today and asked if a misdemeanor for which "my pigs escaped" would show up on a background check. Awesome.

and Green Mints. A tribute to all things minty. Heart, Eliz

I was just reminded, fondly of course, of ASG/IGM Headquarters' summer resident, Tito, when a woman named ROMAINE JACKSON walked into Manpower today. Seriously, if she isn't the long lost (and probably adopted, too, given racial indicators) sister of the Jackson 5 and offspring of Joseph the raccoon, well, I'll be damned. What's truly worth reporting about about this scenario is that one of the employees here, Marianne, used the weird-name situation as an excuse to start up a conversation about her preferential treatment of romaine vs. iceberg lettuce. She was all, and I quote, "In my salads I typically use about 3/4 romaine, and 1/4 iceberg . . . for the crunch. But I used to buy only iceberg [horror!]." Oddly enough, ROMAINE's patterns of romaine use are the same!

What are the chances? And all this is brought to you by just another day at the office. Peace out, says the boss.

I just spent a lovely week in the middle of Michigan's upper peninsula, sitting around/looking around, reading things by Tolkein, doing crossword puzzles, playing Scrabble, off-roading on my mother's bicycle and thereby damaging my haunches for life, drinking calimochos, and catching up with folks, namely my brother who I probably won't see for an eternity of sorts. Highlights of the week, aside from the deluge of word-games and other word-related activities, included watching my brother drink all my dad's beer, and listening to the last half of the ND vs. BYU game alone in the car. Sad.

It was a delight, though not quite as delightful as getting to see a number of friends and/or Interlochen folk in Ann Arbor at the beginning of the weekend. Hagan let me stay on her couch and use her bathroom excessively, thereby leaving her boyfriend with an AMAZING impression of me, I'm sure. Plus, I got an inside tour of UM Dearborn (mostly of its bathrooms, too, though I did see some copy machines. And the food court.). *AND* the "bday throwdown" of sorts was entertaining in many ways -- to continue the bathroom theme, I endured an interesting experience during which I was stuck inside Shaw's because his butter-flinging roommate had removed the handle. Awesome.

The winner of this whole bonanza of the past week's activities, though, is the ND/Mich game yesterday, which I listened to in the car with Dave all the way home. The entire day, because of its lovliness and lazy-college-Saturday feel, which I haven't experienced in ages and ages, made me kick myself for missing out on an ND bonanza, including Slobs & T.C. #4, a Think Pink shirt of incredible quality, and an unparallelled football game. Blarney! So be it, idiot. Go Irish.

Sparked by recent contact with the one and only TC #4, I am inspired to stand on this enormous soapbox in order to promote the one acronym that really trumps all others (save WWJVDBD?). What is this acronym, you ask, and what is the source of its greatness? 'Tis "TC," and its greatness transcends explanation. So, without futher ado, here they are: The top 10 TC's ever, in no particular order. Know them and love them.

10. Tim Cibor
9. the Twin Cities: Home of Brian Vnak. Hmmm. It's a stretch.
7. Turtle Creek
6. Technetium
5. Traverse City
4. Taylor Clary (a la Bookstore 2004. As if that's not enough.)
3. The Cheat
2. Too Cool for TC? probably.
1. Tim Calhoun says that his sexual history is irrelevant, and that America needs another big lake. Which it does.

Heart, Eliz