...That vase

I'm home! It's very exciting. Already I have seen mother and sister, had lunch, shopped for last minute gifts and watched upwards of 90 minutes of television (Sister controls remote. Best Week Ever it is).

It's really nice to be home. Oh, don't get me wrong: I like the hustle and the bustle and whatnot-le of the big city, but this suburban pace really has a lot to it. Granted, it's sort of boring and the green spaces all lead to ugly houses or awful office complexes, but they're not teeming with people. God! Those people. Everywhere. The Park, Macy's, that goddamn faux-flea market in Union Square (over tomorrow, thank GOD), even near the WTC. Who are these tourists who say, "Christmas time! Let's go make awkward overly-loud and self-conscious chit-chat at the scene of the most awful thing that has happened in America in...like...a long time" and what are they doing there? Go HOME, people.

Also, if I were in New York, I wouldn't be able to see Miss Nevada looking rough as rocks crying on my local newscast. If you'll excuse me, I need to go watch the weather guy's banter.

Merry Christmas, Sweettits!

The Reason for the Season

Recent outcry from our angry readers demands a new post to the FogelBlog. Well, okay, only one person said something like "aren't you ever gonna update that?" And here you have it -- the post that will land these bloggers a book deal! Actually, the reason the blog hasn't been updated in some time is that we Fogelpeople have nothing to do as of late! Work is boring, we're free from school obligations, and neither of us has ever had a social life, so there's really nothing about which to write. If the other Fogelperson has any complaints about the assertions made in this entry, he should take it up with his editor.

Anyway, I guess there's nothing left to discuss but the events which fill us all with anxiety and dread at this time of year -- the HOLIDAYS!! Having gone shopping 2 of the last 4 days, one of which in what must be one of the busiest shopping areas around, I can say that my anxiety levels are at an all time high. Yes, I've made appropriate purchases for many of my family members and loved ones, but now I have them hidden away in my closet and am counting down the minutes until I see the looks on their faces which register with me later as having meant "I know we all say it's the thought that counts, but you really thought I would like this? Jerk." On top of that, I have yet to acquire gifts for people who play a tertiary role in my life, but have INEXPLICABLY decided that they will be getting me Christmas gifts this year. My concerns about the commercialism of this great day have been replaced by the dark cloud of impersonal and frantic gift giving.

I suppose it is only fitting to have some kind of resolution to this blog entry, but as of yet I've got nothing. Any loyal readers (as we know there was at least one) who have tips for what to buy for those people about whom you know pretty much nothing can provide a kind of interactive conclusion to this one, and ease my troubled mind. Happy holidays, everyone!

On Savings

I'll be really honest with you on this one: I'm not the best at saving money. I know, I know. It shocked me too when I first realized it. I think that was when my net worth was $5.68 in my checking account during college.
I've improved some since then, and a quick perusal reveals that I have $303 in two savings accounts, upwards of $20 in two solo cups devoted to change and $814 in my 401(k). Checking and credit card balances would be a bit too revealing. This is a public blog and, frankly, I'm a little creeped out that you were wondering.
So I was just looking through my documents and I came across a receipt from my trip to the Pathmark on Sunday night (highly recommended, though the closer Pioneer supermarket gets more of my business). Total spent: $32.48. Total saved: $8.02.
I'm 25% of the way there! The goal (I learned this from my friend Gareth) is to save as much as you spend on a $25+ trip to the supermarket, any way you can: coupons, preferred customer cards, buy one get one free things, etc.
The challenge is ours, humble readers. Let's play some supermarket sweep. First one to show a receipt with more savings than spending wins. Early advantages to our New York and Minnesota friends who don't have to pay sales tax on groceries.

Turning Over a New Leaf

I'm turning over a new leaf! In this nameless, faceless city, I have begun to realize I must distinguish myself. Because I have pretty much nothing going for me, I've decided to develop a new trait, one which will wow and amaze. I call it a "work ethic." No doubt it's ironic on some level that I announce this by blogging mid-day, but I stand by its truthfulness. I will no longer watch television until my vision blurs, go to bed before primetime television starts, or have crazy adventures mid-week when work looms over my head. I will manage my time and plan ahead! Years from now, people will read this blog and say, "Gee whiz, she must have had great time management skills to share such entertaining blog entries while working full time and getting a Masters degree." Audience, I tell you now, you will be amazed.

The loneliness of the tights-wearing runner

I started the wake-up process around 4:30 this morning. I'm not sure why: this just seems to happen on Mondays. It's never a nervous feeling; more of a slow, anticipatory rousing that's gotten me to that half-asleep/half-awake state before 5am three Mondays in a row. Today's was different, though.
I fell asleep with the window open a crack last night and by the time I started to get up, it was bitterly cold, a cold that had me huddling under my beautiful new sheets and my old $30 Target comforter. This was exciting. Finally, a chance to bring out the tights! When the alarm finally sounded, it was in the thirties with gusty winds out of the north. The time had come.

Long story short, it was just absolutely awesome. Tights! Who knew? I felt great, I felt loose quickly. Most of all, I felt totally comfortable and warm and not at all like a man in tights would typically feel on Seventh Avenue at 6:15am. Tights, ladies and gentlemen.

In Which We Learn the True Meaning of Irony (It Doesn't Exist)

Today I would like to discuss what I consider a shocking juxtaposition: technology and grammar (read: I can't work a computer and I try very hard to work the English language). After struggling with WiFi for 13 hours (wireless fidelity? faith! hah! another language game), I finally was able to connect to a network I believe to be owned and operated by a local food bank, though I had purchased food in an establishment which advertised its free WiFi (please make a note of the mirroring of the food/WiFi issue -- eat or blog?). Stealing from a charity, that got me feeling low. Later, I returned to my Corporate Network, which was working efficiently for once, and attempted to draft an email. Therein, I began to tweak and fiddle with the language I used and its minutest details. Would sentences end with prepositions? No! Would collective nouns be singular? Of course! Would the meaning grow muddled and murky in the process? You bet! In closing, precision of language confuses things and technology does not work. I think you can draw your own parallels.

They call me a "fancy lad"

I am a man who owns tights. Thanks to an unseasonably warm autumn (it's 68 out right now on November 30), I've been able to do all of my morning runs in shorts and a REALLY stinky long sleeve shirt. But this isn't going to last forever: even when the glaciers are all gone, Denver is our national capital and my morning run down Seventh Avenue is a breaststroke, winters will still be cold and my short shorts won't be coverage enough.
So I did it: with very mixed feelings, I bought a pair of navy blue Nike tights the other day. I haven't worn them outside yet, but I had them on for a few minutes in my bedroom the other day. One thing became clear: I look AWESOME in tights. Just awesome.
Come on, winter, do your worst: I'm ready to face you and have my calf muscles dazzle you in the process.

The Hopes of a FogelPerson

I have been told that I must post to the FogelBlog on this, its inaugural day. Though I have not dropped anything in my crotch today (though I did just eat a chip off the floor), I too would like to welcome all those who have been lured here. I offer you the following promises about my end of this here weblog:
1. I will attempt to keep my fixation on celebrity news out of the picture here, though it does color many of my observations and values (e.g. K-Fed slept with a porn star while married to Britney: against my values).
2. Not all my entries will be 100% fixated on meals and/or snacks.... just 98% Daily Value.
3. I will maintain an air of professionalism and dignity throughout.

After all those negatives, it may be difficult to get a handle on exactly what will be a part of this blog. Like you care. You read 12 blogs a day obsessively because it's the only thing that keeps you going in your antiseptic cubicle. In the immortal words of Charles: "Whenever inspiration strikes, we FogelBlog it."

Things I have dropped in my crotch today

Two pens, piece of pineapple, chicken salad, lettuce, iPod, bottle of water, rubber band, post-it note, M&Ms.

A Bold New Era in Non-Journalism

Soon you will be weary and beaten from endless holiday cheer, from leaving work after the sun sets and from holiday parties that always seem to end with you singing Christmas Carols after you’ve clearly overstayed your welcome.
Then it will all be over, and you’ll wake up in January; fat and with a list of resolutions you’ve already blown strewn amidst the wreckage of holiday-themed Cheez-its and Pringles. You’ll turn on the TV and it will be all about how we’re at war and the economy is withering and Lou Dobbs is shouting about how Mexican al-Qaeda operatives are overrunning the country. Pretty soon your carb-coma will start to wear off and you’ll realize that you’ve spent 11 months living your life, such as it is, and now it’s time to do it all over again.

These times demand the FogelBlog.