NO, REALLY, WE'RE JUST FRIENDS

Every year, particularly during the holiday season, several acquaintances seem to feel the need to "fix me up" with someone. I can almost hear the inevitable tongue-clicking from well-meaning people who assume that, because I've been partner-less for some years now, I'm lonely. Anyone who's widowed knows precisely what I'm talking about; the sad gaze from people who hear you've lost a spouse who assume you're in a perpetual state of grief and therefore require a replacement mate as soon as possible. As annoying as their presumption can be, I really can't fault them; I'm sure their well-intentioned reaction is based on how they would react themselves in my situation, but they obviously don't know me well. If they did know me well, they'd know that I have an active social life, with plenty of friends for company.

One of my favorite friends is a man who I will call Richard, which is a good idea because that happens to be his name. Richard is great fun to be around, intelligent, witty, thoughtful and an all-around gentlemen. He is also tall, lithe, non-gay and extremely handsome, which is a positive bonus for my ego, and means I don't have to wear flats whenever we're out together. Let's face it, we're a stunning pair, Richard and I. It's a convenient arrangement as well; we're not a couple but we go to social functions together from time-to-time. We interact well with each others friends, enjoy many of the same activities and at the end of an evening, we're off to our respective homes in good spirits with a friendly peck on the cheek serving as a goodnight kiss.

Where the arrangement gets awkward however, is that sooner or later the question of our relationship status pops up somewhere in conversation and it's a tricky question to answer. As we've found from experience, there seem to be a lot of folk out there who don't believe that men and women can simply be friends. At least, we assume that's what it must be, because our standard answer to the relationship question, "we're not a couple", usually produces one of three looks; awkward glances from real couples, looks of confusion from men (as in, "are you gay?) and from the ladies, hope-filled smiles at Richard, and what they're actually thinking, I can probably guess.

In truth, it's not difficult to be close friends with a member of the opposite sex but the key component is that you cannot enter into such a friendship with the expectation of something more, and Richard and I don't have those expectations. Surely, if he was looking for romance, he could find it practically...well, anywhere, based on the amount of female attention he gets, and I could have my share of admirers as well provided I ever saw fit get up off the sofa. But for us at least, at this time in our lives, its much nicer to have the friendship of someone of the opposite sex without any of the pressure but with (almost) all of the benefits, namely companionship, caring, someone to do emergency repairs about the house (him), and someone to cook (me). Richard's simple explanation for me is "she's just like a 'mate', except better looking", and I simply say "he's my friend", and that's a basic enough explanation for anyone to understand. Can a personal relationship like this stand the test of time? If we're honest it will, of necessity change if or when either of us finds true love (whatever that mean) but for now, it's a perfectly satisfactory arrangement that I encourage anyone to try.

Now, I'm sure some readers, particularly the women-folk are asking, "wouldn't you like to be involved with this man?", and my answer is that I already am, but I'm practically certain to become more involved would probably lead to the end of a beautiful friendship.

SNOW, SNOW, HORRIBLE SNOW

As I write this, it's the wee hours of a Saturday morning. I'm in wind-down mode after working a wonderful performance of Handel's Messiah at The John F. Kennedy Center Concert Hall, enjoying a cold beer, watching the warm glow of the Christmas tree lights reflected in the glass and mirrors in the room, and gazing through the window at the snow that started falling shortly before I made the drive home roughly two hours ago. However, if you're reading this and thinking what a delightfully tranquil mood I must be in, you're quite wrong and the reason is, the snow.

As a rule I enjoy a bit of snow, especially this time of year. Who wouldn't like to hear Bing Crosby sing White Christmas while actually seeing it in person for a change? The problem is, this particular snowfall is an official Winter Storm Warning with an approximate accumulation expected of 12 inches, and perhaps more, and I think it's going to be bad. The first warning sign was the trip home. Normally, the trip from the Kennedy Center takes about 10-15 minutes but tonight's trip took thirty minutes, and I passed no less than three auto accidents en route and the snow had barely begun to fall. If this is any indication of what the next 24 hours of expected snowfall means to the Nations Capital, I am in a state of absolute dread.

If you live in one of the more snow-hardened areas of the world you may be wondering what all the fuss is about, but the simple truth is that Washington DC and snow simply do not mix. There isn't the amount of equipment and manpower in place to keep the area moving if there is more than a snowfall of say, five inches or more, and even that small amount can bring the city to it's knees. Add to that the constant minute-by-minute coverage from the television finger-to-the-wind boys warning us of all the hazards of driving in snowy conditions, and you have a sense of city-wide panic probably not felt since that of Grover's Mill, New Jersey when they thought the War of the Worlds radio broadcast was real....

It is now twelve hours later, and I'm gazing through the same window, watching what should be the lovely sight of gently blanketing snow, but I can't, because I'm watching the local 24-hour news channel feed me live coverage of cars getting stuck on the major highways, walk-by citizens being interviewed on camera saying how unsafe it is to be out at all (so why are you, then?), and updates on how much more snow is expected to accumulate before we can all breathe a sigh of relief and sort out how to dig ourselves out of this mess. Again, if you're not from this area, you haven't experienced the pain of watching "cowboy" snowplows making a quick buck piling six feet of snow behind your car or worse for people living in DC proper, waiting four or more days for City services to come plow the side streets...

It's now Sunday evening and I'm happy to say that, with the help of two very nice gentlemen who took pity on me, I was able to dig my car out from under the expected six feet of snow piled behind my car by the "cowboy" snowplow, but since the men only showed up at the end of the two and a half-hour chore, I'm still taking credit for all the major shoveling. So, at least I know I'm mobile again but the next worry is how to deal with the Monday morning commute surrounded by people who have absolutely no conception of how to drive when there is a bit of hardened moisture on the road. It's not terribly difficult; maintain a steady speed, keep a safe distance, put your cell phone down, wait until you get to the office to apply your make-up, and just drive the car.

All this snow should be a pleasant experience, but unlike the Hollywood depictions of snowfall in films such as in White Christmas it simply isn't, at least not in this region. The one crumb of satisfaction I have is courtesy of Chicago-based, snow veteran President Obama; last year DC schools were closed because of a four inch accumulation of snow, and he stated on record he couldn't understand why. I remember having a chuckle and thinking, "don't worry, you will".

I think he may understand now.

WANTED: ONE REAL VACATION

According to the Compact Oxford English Dictionary, a vacation is simply defined as "a holiday" (they're British, after all), but it's clear that whoever wrote that entry didn't spend last week's "holiday" with me.

With the economy in it's uncertain state, I wouldn't expect to be able to take a proper vacation (for instance something involving travel, excitement, fun, romance or having a nice meal that doesn't arrive at the table immediately following the "ding" of a microwave); it just would have been nice if I didn't have to do any sort of work. I don't mean "from the office" type work, I'm referring to the personal things needing done that those of us who have jobs simply can't get taken care of when working 8am-5pm Monday thru Friday. Combine a full work schedule with a boss who thinks that, other than himself, nobody has any errands to attend to, and you have the vacation I enjoyed last week. Had I bothered to write down a schedule in advance, it would have looked like this:

MONDAY

0800-1200 - plumber due to arrive, watch trash television to kill the time

1200-1400 - still waiting for plumber, watch "daytime drama" to kill the time

1500 1530 - plumber arrives but is missing a part; goes to hardware store to purchase

1700 - plumber completes work

TUESDAY

1000 -appointment with veterinarian

1030 - still waiting for veterinarian

1115-1145 - veterinarian's appointment complete. Wait to pay for appointment and three doggie prescriptions.

1200-1215 - light lunch al fresco (read: quarter-pound Big Bite hot dog in the car on the drive home)

1400-1630 - retrieve holiday decorations, assemble tree and disentangle lights, watch re-runs of Gordon Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares to pass the time. Wish Gordon Ramsay would buy me dinner in one of his restaurants.

WEDNESDAY

0800-1700 - Wait for and supervise plasterers, and then painters, sent to repair damages caused by plumber who occupied all of my time Monday. Watch old movies and re-runs of Gordon Ramsay's The F Word to pass the time. Wish Gordon Ramsay would take me away from All of This.

THURSDAY

0800-1300 - engage in marathon house cleaning that can't possibly be done whilst working two jobs, including but not limited to: washing interior and exterior windows and window treatments, shampoo area rugs, keep dog off wet area rugs, wash and wax kitchen and bathroom floors, keep dog off floors until wax dries, sweep and mop hardwood floors, keep dog off damp hardwood floors and finish assembling holiday decorations. Watch old movies and Speed Channel to pass the time. Wish I could drive a Bugatti Veyron at it's top speed away from All of This.

1430-doctor's appointment

1500 - still waiting for doctor

1530-1545 - wait to pay for doctor

1615-1645 - take blood tests and wait to pay for lab work ordered by doctor

FRIDAY

nothing scheduled - go to shopping mall. Decide holiday shopper volume is too much and wish I would have stayed home and shopped on-line. Spend rest of day in deep depression wondering what happened to my vacation.

Now, I'm not exaggerating; this is actually how I spent my vacation, and I have no doubt that when my next one comes 'round in June, I'll be doing many of the same activities that week as well. But who knows, one of these days I may actually take a proper vacation with real travel, glamor and excitement, just like the ones I saw advertised on the television while I was passing the time. If I'm honest though, I doubt it will ever happen. After all, who would run my errands while I'm gone?

WHOSE COLUMN IS IT, ANYWAY?

Here it is, Thanksgiving week, and because I'm deep in the holiday spirit (read: lazy), there will be no spleen-venting. Instead, I've decided to give thanks to readers of Notes From The Light Side; not only is it tremendous fun for me to write but it's introduced me to some very nice people who appear to be regular readers. Even readers who don't necessarily agree with me seem to enjoy what I have to say enough to keep reading and criticizing me every week.

I think one of the reasons I have readers in the first place is because of on-line magazines. Since I started this column, it's been picked up by several "e-zines", which is quite flattering considering I expected I would be the only person reading this. Most of the e-zines are automated systems that "ping" your blog from time-to-time to check for, then publish updated content (techno-geeks, correct me if that's the wrong description), but of all the e-zines, the one I really pay attention to is a major one whose name you can get if you Google me on the internet. This magazine keeps very thorough stats, telling how many views each article has had, how many times an article has been published electronically by other publishers, how many people have accessed your profile, what reader "rating" each article has received and how many people are redirected to your actual blog to subscribe and, amazingly, all these services are provided absolutely free-of-charge to authors they choose to publish. Another reason I pay attention to it is, as far as I can tell, the only e-magazine that has actual live human beings editing content before publication. Before anything gets published it faces not one but two reviews; "initial" and "quality control". The process can take up to a week to complete, hardly surprising considering the amount of content in their magazine. The editorial staff is efficient of necessity, and are a very intelligent group of individuals, an opinion that has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact they've only kicked two articles back to me for revisions.

As much regard as I have for them though, I was a bit irritated last week when they published my article, Strolling Down Memory Lane... At 55 MPH. You see, I'd specifically tagged this as an "automotive" piece, but in their editorial process, it was changed to "self-improvement". Self-improvement? Nonsense, that wasn't my intent at all; that piece was meant to be about escaping the pressure of everyday existence behind the wheel of a car; the idea of, "clear your mind on the open road as I do" (without sounding quite that silly). I suppose I could have made the automotive angle stronger if I'd written "......behind the wheel of my 2.5 litre, 170 brake horse power 4-door "Limited Edition" with full-time AWD and double wishbone suspension that does 0-60 in 9.7 seconds", but not only would that have spoilt the mood, it would have sounded like I freelanced for Motor Trend in my spare time.

I got quite a bit worked up over the change, thinking, "I know what I was writing about, not them", and wondering if they would have changed the classification from automotive if my name was Billy Bob Huggins, until I realized I was getting worked up over absolutely nothing. Did the magazine change one word of the article? No. Did they change the title? No. All they did was move it to what they thought was a more suitable classification, and, with head bowed I can say they did the right thing. Twenty-four hours after Strolling Down Memory Lane...At 55 MPH was published, it ranked fourth most popular of all my articles, and the "view" numbers continue to grow each day.

The lesson learned is a simple one, each of us has a job to do so let's just get on with it. Their job is to edit, and they've been doing quite nicely for nine years without my interference, thank you. And my job? Easy. All I have to do is shut up and write.


(Notes From The Light Side will return the first week in December.)

PASS(WORD) / FAIL

It's difficult to believe that only five or six years ago, I had little interest in the internet. I was one of those old-fashioned folk who believed the World Wide Web was useless to me, in much the same way I thought ATM's were useless 20 years ago. Of course now I consider both of them indispensible; I can't remember the last time I was in the local branch of my bank to conduct any financial business, and nearly all of my reading, shopping, communication and recreational pursuits are connected in one way or another to the cobalt grey slab of metal from Mr Hewlett and Mr Packard. If I hadn't acquired a taste for the internet you wouldn't be reading this now, but the jury is still out over whether or not that's a good thing.

The bad news is when things go wrong with technology, they can go horribly wrong, as proved Monday morning when I misplaced my pocket-sized telephone and address book. No, it doesn't contain names and addresses of my nearest and dearest (who writes letters these days?); it contains all my internet account user names and passwords. Sure, I can remember a few user name/password combinations such as email and my bank account, but what about all the others, the ones you don't use enough to warrant a permanent slice of brain space? I learned in a terrifying 30 minute search that the loss of the 21st century's version of the "little black book" could mean hours of frustration spent with countless Customer Care Teams trying to sort everything out, and that was a best-case scenario; what it was truly lost only to be found and then used by someone else? That prospect brought on a panic I haven't experienced since I lost my contact lenses three weeks after the expiration of my vision-benefit plan.

Just like the contact lenses though, the book did turn up, found tucked away in the torn pocket lining of a jacket I'd been wearing, but as relieved as I was to find it, I was also troubled at how the loss of this book could cause so much anxiety and chaos in my life. The truth is that practically everything we do online these days, email, banking, mortgage, insurance plans, shopping, forums, newsgroups, ad nauseum is done at the mercy of multiple username and passwords, the volume of which the average person can't possibly be expected to remember. Until someone comes up with a better plan, we're stuck with it though, but to avoid a possible catastrophe, I've devised a back-up plan. Along with my other important papers, I'm keeping a separate list of all my passwords in a fireproof combination-lock box I've just bought.

Hopefully, I won't forget the combination.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS, LOVE, THE I.R.S.

Bang on November 1, it started; strange noises emanating from the television set sounding suspiciously like Christmas music. At first I thought I was imagining things because I had just tucked into a piece of leftover Halloween candy, but on setting down the dust rag and taking a peek at the set, there it was, a major retailer reminding me that Christmas is the season for buying.....oops, I meant giving. That's right, Christmas advertising (or "pre-Christmas gift-sellers", if you want to sound like a pro) has already crept its way into our lives.

Now, I really do enjoy the holiday season, but every year it gets longer and longer. I thought it was bad when the selling started after barely digesting Thanksgiving dinner, but now we don't even have time to finish off the pumpkin-shaped marshmallow Peeps none of the kids wanted on October 31. I'm beginning to believe that, in the course of my lifetime, the Christmas season will begin shortly after my birthday in August; it's only a matter of time. Nevertheless, we're stuck with the bombardment of ads until the January "white sales" come around and we will be encouraged to spend even more money we don't have.

On the plus side of this extended holiday season, I got an early Christmas present in the shape of an envelope from the Internal Revenue Service. In as nice a tone as possible, and with as much warmth as the Government could muster, they informed me it's possible I'd made a minor mistake on my '07 tax return, and could they please have the additional $476 I owe them by December 24, thank-you-very-much. I was prepared to meet this governmental onslaught with all the courage and conviction that a woman about to lose $476 could, until I realized that they were right. I had made an error on my '07 tax return, and it was not a minor one. In fact, it was so glaringly obvious I expect to be investigated for tax fraud in the near future.

What surprised me though was just how darned nice the I.R.S. was about the matter. The tone of the notice was almost, dare I say, pleasant. Over the six-page document they explained why I was receiving the notice, what steps I needed to take, what would happen if I didn't respond in a timely manner, and what my payment and dispute options were. They supplied me with the exact information I needed to determine where I was at fault on my original filing, and even told me I may qualify for a discount on the $476 owed based on the information supplied by my financial institution. Christmas came to Huggins House because the information handed me was so thorough that even Donner or Blitzen could have understood it. The parting gift was the name of an actual human being assigned to my case; I did call with a question, and the lady was extremely nice and helpful. She even told me how to save an unnecessary $105 fee by filing paperwork different from what I was planning to file. Happy Holidays, indeed.

So, with holiday-cheerful resignation, I'll pay the taxes owed, but as tempted as I am I don't think I'll be smug and send it to them in a Christmas card to meet their December 24 deadline. In what I can only assume is their best holiday spirit they've been nice this time, but if I irritate them and they discover I've made the same error on my '08 return that exchange may well turn into a July 4 fireworks display.

STROLLING DOWN MEMORY LANE....AT 55 MPH

For as long as I can remember, falling asleep has been difficult. Over the years I've employed a variety of methods to get the job done including prescription sleep aids, working a second job, staying up 'til all hours behaving raucously with friends, and reading the latest edition of The Wall Street Journal online. Each method has worked with varying degrees of success, but lately the simple task of sleep has become more elusive than ever.

I think I may be in good company because many of the things keeping me up nights are most likely shared by many; possible unemployment, financial instability, deadlines, health issues, the upcoming holiday season, and general concerns over the future are probably sending more than a few people to join me for a midnight read of the WSJ.

A few nights ago though, none of the usual sleep aids seemed to work and I again found myself pacing about the house at 1 am. So in absolute frustration, and with the feeling of the house closing in around me, I did something I haven't done in ages; I threw on some slightly grubby clothes, grabbed my drivers license, a few dollars and my keys, and went for a drive.

I used to do this quite a bit when I was younger, and that night I was reminded of how refreshing it is to leave the trappings of day-to-day life behind, albeit only briefly, driving about on the empty roads with only your own thoughts and whatever music is coming from the stereo system. That night my musical tastes were geared for what are now called "golden oldies" (I prefer to call them "timeless classics"), and perhaps because there weren't the usual daytime distractions, some of the tunes brought back instant memory flashes of similar drives many years ago.

The Spinners Games People Play came blasting out of the sound system, reminding me of a midnight drive when I worried how I was ever going to be able to afford the $95.00 monthly rent on my first apartment. Following not far behind on the playlist was Kenny Loggins' I'm Alright, a song that seemed to play continuously on my cross-country move to Los Angeles; a drive memorable not for the sights and adventure of the trip, but for the fact on that drive I worried how I was going to find a job, where I was going to live, and how I was going to eat... From Dionne Warwicke's Heartbreaker to Michael Jackson's Human Nature, it seemed no small coincidence that each song filling the car's interior had some connection with past midnight drives spent with good tunes and a chance to think through life's concerns.

This went on for about an hour, and with gas running low, and the thought of sleep at last not a scary thing, I headed home to the tune of Electric Light Orchestra's Mr Blue Sky, a song that's impossible to hear and not be happy. Then, when I finally pulled into the parking lot and turned off the CD it hit me: the worries and stresses that keep me awake nights now are the same worries and stresses that kept me awake nights then, and despite everything I thought could possibly go wrong with my life, I'm still here.

I don't think I'll wait so long to take another trip down memory lane at 55 MPH. With good music, empty roads and nothing to clutter your mind, it's easy to put things into perspective and remind yourself that, as confused and uncertain as things might seem at the moment, life is going to be just fine, after all.

THE TRUTH BEHIND AIRLINE COUNTER DELAYS

I've been in love with air travel since I can remember, and my first recollection of flight was in the early 1960's on a MATS (Military Air Transport Service) plane en route to join Dad who was stationed in Naples, Italy. The aircraft was prehistoric by today's standards; for example the seating arrangement was to arrange to sit wherever there was a space. The consolation prize to Uncle Sam's Discomfort was my sister and I discovering a serviceman in possession of candy and chewing gum, which we mooched successfully until Mom came to the rescue of the poor Marine. My first recollection of a commercial flight was with with the family en route to somewhere (we were military, after all), and it was, compared to MATS, strictly deluxe; a Pan American prop jet with pretty ladies wearing hats and gloves who were handing out drinks and snacks and free "future stewardess" pins for the girls.

My fascination with air travel was cemented in 1970 when the grand-daddy of all disaster films Airport arrived at my local theatre. With the exception of a mad bomber who blew up the plane at 30,000 feet, the film depicted airports and airlines, and all the people associated with them as a romantic, glamorous, exciting way of life and I decided that at some point, sooner or later, I was going to be a part of it. Unfortunately by the time I became a "part of it" and joined American Airlines some 25 years later, the glamour days of air travel had long gone. In it's place air travel became (to borrow and old theatre term), a "fill and spill"; get as many passengers on an aircraft and do a turnaround trip as fast as possible to maximize profit. Gone were the silver service meals, free postcards and stationary or free "future stewardess" pins. In it's place was, depending on the length of the flight, a meal or light snack, and many travel delays.

Before I worked for an airline I used to complain about air travel delays, but I don't do that anymore. Now I know if there's a delay at a security checkpoint it's more often than not a result of one or more passenger's inability to follow simple instructions such as "have your tickets and identification ready please." I know if the aircraft is late out of the gate it's at Captain's discretion, and it rarely happens unless there's a possible safety issue with the aircraft, and no one should complain about that one. I know if there's a delay at the ticket counter, it could either be a system slowdown, high passenger volume or just possibly a ticket agent trying to find alternate routing for a passenger who's the unfortunate victim of a canceled flight, or some other unforeseen circumstance.

And, if a bag is missing or delayed en route you might be surprised to know that there is an entire network of people dedicated to tracking down missing or delayed baggage using an industry-wide system called BMAS (Baggage Management Analysis System) to keep score. While it's a very effective system, it's not exactly simple so if you're delayed at the Baggage Service counter of any airline, it's because some miserable agent has to type in the acronym-version of Gone With The Wind before your "tracer" is initiated in BMAS.

If you're a frequent flyer out of St. Louis, Boston, Miami or Seattle-Tacoma, then, unfortunately, you're probably familiar with BMAS and don't mind the wait. But for those readers who have never had the BMAS Experience and wonder what's taking that idiot behind the counter so long, here's what a real agent must manually input before a trace on your bag can begin. Bear in mind, this is inputted after the agent has entered the information on you, your location, your contact details and your preferred method of delivery. For the purpose of this demonstration, you are Mr Landau, who traveled from Dallas-Ft Worth to Reagan National Airport in Washington DC on flight 1598 on the third of May:

Here's your passenger itinerary: 1 AA1598Y03MAYDFWDCA2344569200324

Here's a description of your missing bag. If we're lucky, it's only bag one per passenger, not ten as I once had to do. Oh, heck, I think Mr Landau lost three items:
1 DB/L/RD22PSW/LEATHER/GUCCI/LL/LANDAU/SHOES CLOTHES CDS
2 DB/L/BK22/CANVAS/NONE/DL/LANDAU/CHILDRENS ITEMS
3 DB/L/GR70/CLOTH METAL/AL/LANDAU/BABY CART

Here's your check-in counter information from DFW: K/03/00/C/0090/DFW

And, your flight information:
FLIFO*1598-4DFW/OUT0818 OFF0839*0840 2DCA/IN1139 *1147 DCADRD.03MAY.1405

While Mr Landau is yelling at me over the counter because I'm too slow, I check the information from Baggage Service in DFW. Most delays are due to weather conditions or missed connections, but for this demonstration, someone at DFW forgot to load the bags onto the flight, so "oops, we missed the flight so we put 'em on flight 1409" is translated into:
5 BIS ON HND CONF TOT3 BAGCHKD TO AA1409 DFWDCA

Unfortunately, that flight will arrive after Mr Landau has left on another flight to Gatwick Airport in London, so I have to sort out the best way to forward his bags. After some checking, I decide to send the bags on to London on a (fictional) US Airways Flight 232 to New York with a transfer to a (fictional) British Airways Flight 2442 is best, so I enter this:

BO1/AA1598/LANDAU/L/US232/03MAY/JFK/EXP3295728/AA1598/03MAY
/US232/LANDAU/L/BA2442/04MAY/LGW/EXP223298/US232/04MAY
BO2/AA1598/LANDAU/L/US232/03MAY/JFK/EXP229092/AA1598/03MAY
/US232/LANDAU/L/BA2442/04MAY/LGW/EXP240157/US232/04MAY
BO3/AA1598/LANDAU/L/US232/03MAY/JFK/EXP244277/AA1598/03MAY
/US232/LANDAU/L/BA2442/04MAY/LGW/EXP244298/AA1598/03MAY

Done. Now Mr Landau can leave the counter with a receipt (that contains none of this information) and hopefully there are only a few more passengers left waiting behind him.

There's the real truth behind ticketing and baggage counter delays. Airline employees aren't slow, lazy of stupid (I've been called all three names, by the way). For the most part they are thorough and accurate out of necessity, and you can rest assured the fictional person at DFW who made the mistake with Mr Landau's bags will be in seriously hot water over that error. That may not be much consolation as you wait in line, but it may give you a chuckle later, after you've calmed down.

Now, enjoy your flight.

NEED AN ANSWER? ASK A FORUM.

I'm happy. Very happy. Over the past weekend, an on-going problem I've been having with the old HP Pavilion 5700 (that I refuse to part with, thank you very much) finally got resolved. It didn't get resolved by HP tech support who were, frankly, useless. It didn't get resolved by the IT support group used by the company I work for, and it didn't get resolved by following HP's on-line troubleshooting tools. It got resolved by two guys on an internet forum.

"evil_bob" and "Camaro Guy". gave me the answer to my problem within a half-hour of my asking the question on an online forum dedicated to solving PC-related problems. It turned out to be a CD-ROM driver issue that, even though I know nothing about "drivers" took no longer than ten minutes to fix myself, with the help of their step-by-step instructions. There was an additional five minutes spent while they reassured me that the driver would, indeed, re-install itself on start-up, but I won't include that in the repair time. After thanking the forum members in a style of English that must have made them instantly aware I was old enough to be their Mother, I pressed my luck and asked how to change a DVD player to "multi-region", meaning it can play DVD's manufactured in other countries. This time it was "teenychinagal" who responded with a link to her own amateur video tutorial on how precisely to resolve that issue. I spent five minutes watching the video, and three minutes to make a simple change to some hardware settings, and the job was done. Total time spent to resolve both issues? About two hours from diagnoses to "fix". Total cost? $0.00. Total respect from me? Absolute.

While I'm thrilled with the outcome it's also a bit of an embarrassment for me because I have a tendency to bang on about how the internet has depersonalized society. In fact (and I am not making this up) the article I started this week had to do with the role of the internet in effectively "killing" customer service, but it simply isn't true. The problem is me, because I've clearly been visiting the wrong sites. Where the combined wisdom of HP and several highly-trained professionals failed, people who I will never know, and who have absolutely nothing to gain but the fact they were able to help, succeeded.

Come to think of it though, maybe my first column idea was only half wrong; while the internet hasn't killed customer service it's brought to the fore that customer service, real customer service has been dying a slow death for some time. That would certainly explain the existence of on-line help forums in the first place. I would like to think that the people who helped me became so exasperated with the same "technical support" I received that they got together one day and said, "sod all, we can do better than this and we can use goofy screen names at the same time". They certainly did do better than traditional customer service because forums don't just give you an answer, you can get an explanation as well and knowing what causes things to go wrong is the best way to avoid and solve a problem in the future. I would never get a proper explanation from an IT professional, after all, why would they give that information away free of charge? And, I most definitely wouldn't get an explanation from HP tech support because, well, they probably don't have an explanation.

The lesson learned here is that, for a frustrating, unpleasant experience with an unsatisfactory outcome, try traditional customer service. For real knowledge and first-hand experience from people with no agenda, ask your question on a forum. I'm going to start looking for a Subaru forum next week. I'm having trouble with windshield wiper noises in the Outback, and I know there's a Subaru owner somewhere in cyberspace who can tell me best how to fix it.

SEARCHING FOR A JOB? GET TO WORK.

Now that the recent unpleasantness of partial-unemployment is behind me (having been resolved by acceptance of a rather tasty job offer), I've had time to take a deep breath, review the events connected with being unemployed and make an honest assessment of it all. The conclusion I've come to after hours of beer-filled contemplation is simple: everything about being unemployed is the pits. While this in itself may not be a revelation worthy of publication by The Huffington Post, it does give me an opportunity to offer some realistic observations and tips in the event any readers are or shortly will be among the ever increasing number of job-seekers .

Plan Ahead - If you suspect there may be trouble at your place of employment, it's probably because there is trouble. Don't assume everything is fine simply because your supervisor/co-workers/human resources department says so. Planning ahead is essential in order to take some of the stress off your job search. I'm speaking common sense here; pay down charge cards; avoid making any large purchases and plan where you can make cuts to your budget should you need to. At the very least you'll be prepared, and, if nothing else, you will have reduced your debt.

The Best Time To Look For A Job Is When You Don't Need One - Some wise soul told me this many years ago, and fortunately, I remembered it. I started registering myself on online employment sites and sending out resumes long before I was ever unemployed. It paid off as well; registering for employment sites is time-consuming. Re-writing and tweaking a dusty resume is time-consuming (I re-tooled mine three times before I was satisfied with what I was sending out), and generally taking your time in the beginning will make you more informed about the types of positions that are being advertised.

Avoid Agencies, If Possible - Now, this came as a total shock to me because, in the past, I've always been able to secure at least temporary employment from an agency. This go-round, however, I found I couldn't get so much as arrested, much less an interview, from an employment agency, despite having a vastly-improved resume. I'm not sure why that is, but I expect with a surplus of unemployed willing to work cheaply, the agencies were turning their attention to recent college grads. I continued to send my details into the agencies but got nary a nibble out of it all.

A First-Rate Cover-Letter is Essential - I don't know if this fact is being taught, but if not, you've heard it from me: your resume should be no more than one-page in length, and should be used to outline your basic experience and qualifications. Where you "sell" to a potential employer however, is the cover letter. I always made a point to ask people with whom I was interviewing how many applications they received, and it generally ranged from between 125-175. Now, think of it from a potential employers point of view; after reviewing the third or fourth application it must be a fairly mind-numbing experience. Use your cover letter to grab their attention; refer to your resume and state why you feel your past experience would be an asset to their current job opening and cite parallels between positions, if possible;it will demonstrate you've paid attention to their brief of the position. Your cover letter should also state your salary requirements; no need to get through to the interview stage if you and your potential employer won't be in agreement on this basic matter.

Be Prepared To Be Brutally Honest - In your cover letter and interview, don't be afraid to point out your weaknesses as well as your strengths. If the brief calls for "proficiency in XYZ computer software" and you've only had a passing acquaintance with it in the past, say so. Being honest and expressing a willingness to "bone up" on a particular subject will carry more weight with them be more comfortable for you, and is easier than trying to blag your way through, trust me.

Interviews Are Like Dates - and I never particularly cared for dating. But, what I've learned over the years from dating stood me in good stead for the interview process. Don't assume because you had a good telephone interview, the personal interview will go quite so well. Like dating, the person talking to you may have a completely different mental image of who is on the other end of the phone. Unfair? Yes. An undeniable fact? Also yes. It's important to be on your best behaviour in an interview, but also be yourself. Remember that the person you're speaking to you may be potentially seeing you five days every week for quite some time. Allow your natural self to peep through; it may be exactly what they're looking for. Most importantly though, don't assume that because your date...oops, interview went well, you'll hear from them again. I had several excellent interviews where I was specifically told I would be back for the second selection process, and I never heard from them again. It's sad, but, just like dating, there's plenty of competition out there. Move on.

The Bureau of Labor Statistics stated that there were a reported 15.0 million unemployed in the United States in May, 2010 so if you are currently (or soon to be) unemployed, take small comfort in the fact you're not alone. But, be aware that looking for work is, in itself, work. I hope my own experiences in the employment piranha-pool will save you some steps, provide some ideas, or both. Sermon over. Normal service will resume (no pun intended) next week.

CONFRONTATION, ENTERTAINMENT AT ITS BEST

Since the flu bug I picked up last week is still with me, I've had a lot of time to lay about the house feeling miserable and sorry for myself. As much fun as this can be at times it can also be pretty boring so in an effort to be productive I tried something new; I became addicted to BBC's The Apprentice.

I don't typically watch this 12-week reality series because of an unpredictable schedule but also because it's so unreal. If we're honest, is there anyone who believes that the candidates are selected for their potential as employees and not for the group dynamic and personal conflicts that the producers are hoping to promote for the sake of ratings? Of course we don't believe it. However real or unreal, the formula does work. Take me for example; thanks to an enforced confinement and the generosity of a person called "ebeleys" at a certain video-sharing website, in the past two days I've watched the complete first series and I'm halfway through series three. I'm hooked.

For sheer entertainment, you can't beat it. First, there are the candidates. In series one (as in most series probably), it was a fairly mixed bag of individuals including managers from all sectors; communications, direct sales, hotel, retail, etc. I believe some of them were really in it for the advancement opportunity and larger salary but on the other side there was an investment banker, a property developer, a financial analyst and an internet entrepreneur. Each one of these candidates waxed poetic about what successful businessmen they were, but how successful are you really if you would give up your lucrative business to work as an apprentice to Sir Alan Sugar for a paltry 100,000 quid a year? Can you say "launchpad to bigger things"? I can.

Nevertheless, the premise of the show is that each candidate demonstrate their intelligence and business acumen by going through a series of tasks arranged by Sir Alan to prove who is the best qualified. I have respect for the candidates because some of the tasks looked extremely difficult, but if we're honest, that's not why we watch. The real reason we watch is for the confrontation between the candidates, and Sir Alan does confrontation very well. All the participants live in the same house (confrontation). Initially they are paired off into "boy" versus "girl" teams (confrontation). After a few tasks and no small amount of backstabbing, Sir Alan shifts groups around (confrontation) and each losing team leader must select two team members to go with him/her to "the firing line" (confrontation). Let's face it, The Apprentice is a twelve-week train wreck, and we can't not watch.

Despite all the education and experience professed by the candidates, the smartest man by far is Sir Alan Sugar himself. He really is my type of boss. A self-made millionaire who left school at the age of sixteen, he has a brusque East End accent, he says "bloody awful" a lot, he calls people "nutters" (among other things), and most important to my viewing pleasure, he cuts to the quick any nonsense being talked by the candidates (more confrontation). I know bulls**t when I hear it, and I sit grinning on the edge of my chair waiting for Sir Alan to verbally dismember the candidates and unceremoniously hand their heads back to them (third-party confrontation).

Maybe that's why we enjoy The Apprentice, and shows like it, so much. We can root for the best, 'hiss' at the worst, enjoy a little confrontation, and in the comfort of our own homes, no one gets hurt.

READ ALL ABOUT IT! (WITHOUT BEING BORED).

If you have read more than one or two of my columns, you've already sorted out that I'm no student of serious journalism. Certainly I can string sentences together fairly well and I'm also quite proficient in the art of spell-check. I write in what's been described by people who owe me money as a "light hearted" and "enjoyably readable" style, but if I was challenged with writing a serious piece of journalistic work on any subject, you may have a long wait. I have no doubt I could deliver the goods, but the topic would probably be obsolete by the time you had the chance to read it.

This isn't a reflection on my ability but to me, "journalism" means "serious", and I leave that to those more talented than myself. Even Messers Meriam and Webster define journalism as "writing characterized by a direct presentation of facts or description of events without an attempt at interpretation", which means I am automatically disqualified.

Fortunately, there are plenty of others who take their journalism seriously, and I read quite a bit of their work. Living in the Nation's Capitol means having access to most hard copy newspapers (Washington Post, Baltimore Sun, Philadelphia Enquirer and New York Times are all available at the corner store), and of course, unlimited resources on the internet. I read, or try to read, one newspaper a day and two, if I can manage it. Typically, it's the Washington Post and (British newspapers), the Telegraph or Express; they all present factual articles in a simple, unbiased and straightforward manner. So simple and straightforward in fact, that at times it can be a bit of a bore. Here are some article titles from the 1 October edition of the Washington Post:

News
U.S., Allies, Begin Nuclear Talks With Iran

Health Care Reform: Panel Expects Vote Next Week
Courts To Decide If State Gun Laws Violate Rights
Number Of People Receiving HIV Drugs Rises
Al-Maliki Forms New Coalition Ahead Of Elections

Sports
Dodgers Fail To Win NL West
Griffey Homers, Morrow Pitches Seattle Past Oakland
Redskins Allow Lions To End 19-Game Losing Streak

Lifestyle
Spielberg, Lucas, Bring Rockwell To Museum
The Brain That Won Us The Cold War
Art Auction Price May Be Local Record
Gospel-Choir Competition Brings Pitch-Perfect Praise to Verizon Center
Taking A Shine to a Museum Photo Project
Home Front: Your Design Dilemmas Solved

No matter how informative and important these articles may be, the titles aren't likely to pique your interest after a hard day at the office. When your attention span and threshold of boredom are low you need a real attention-grabbing title to make you sit up and take notice, and for that you need go no further than my guilty pleasure, the British newspaper Daily Mirror. One look at their titles and you know you're in for a good read. In contrast to the Washington Post, here are some titles from the 1 October edition of the Mirror, and I am not making any of them up:


News:
Top 10 Most Bizarre Items For Sale On Ebay

Paris Jackson Blames Gig Chiefs For Father Michael's Death
Labour Launch Election Battle With Hell-Vision of Britain Under David Cameron
Strange Maps of the World
Arm Transplant Dad Tells of Amazing Operation
Safe Sex for the over-50's

Sport:
If Arsenal Wenger is the Daddy, Who's the Embarrassing Uncle?
Charm School Could Give Gosden a Hat-Trick in Cambridgeshire
Miracle-Man Massa Back on Track

Lifestyle:
Chocolate Heidi: Find Out Why Pregnant Heidi Klum Is Covered in Chocolate.
You Really, Really Don't Want To Know Whose Camel-toe This Is
What Do Kids Really Know About Sex?
Our Babies Will Have Two Mums and One Dad!
Diet Like it was 1959.
Why Do People in Relationships Cheat?

Alright, so it's not Pulitzer Prize-winning material, but the Mirror is still a legitimate newspaper with a circulation of over 1,324,000 daily, and while you may not be as enlightened after reading the Mirror, you're certainly more entertained. The Mirror has got it right with the titles as well. If given the choice of reading these two articles from 1 October, Art Auction Price May Be Local Record or Top 10 Most Bizarre Items For Sale On Ebay, honestly, which one will you read first?

So, Washington Post and similar newspapers, take a tip from the Mirror and de-bore your titles. Instead of Courts To Decide If State Gun Laws Violate Rights try Will Court Hitmen Take Pot-Shots at Gun Control?, or something equally silly. I'm sure you'll attract the attention of more readers.

Unlike me, your writers can do it. They're all serious journalists.

NORMAL SERVICE WILL RESUME....TRUST ME

This week I wrote a column that I decided was nothing short of brilliant. Unfortunately, I have flu and was running a high fever at the time of my epiphany, so my judgement may have been a bit off and the article may not be as good as I think. Nevertheless, while under the spell of illness I decided, because of the subject matter (newspapers), I should submit it to The Washington Post for inclusion in their Op-Ed section.

Unfortunately, one of the requirements of the Washington Post is that anything they consider for publication cannot already be published in any other medium, including a personal blog, which means I can't post it here tomorrow as scheduled.

But don't despair, readers. I'm sure the professionals at the Washington Post will do the right thing and kick it back to me with the usual "Thanks, but no thanks" at which time I can publish it here. If they have well and truly lost their minds and decide my bit of nonsense is exactly what the Washington Post is looking for, after picking myself up off the floor I will include a link to it at that time.

At any rate, normal service at Notes From The Light Side will resume next week.

E-COMPATIBILITY = INCOMPATIBILITY

If you watch any amount of cable television during the course of a week, you've seen this ad: couples lovingly talk about how an on-line dating site brought them happiness beyond their wildest dreams and only through the thoroughness of the on-line questionnaire were they able to find true compatibility. I won't say the name of the site, but it starts with 'e" and ends with "h-a-r-m-o-n-y".

I'm very happy for the people I see in the ads. They seem to enjoy each other and believe in the service they were provided and in fairness they are compatible; each couple seems to have a desperate need to be on television.

I'm not convinced with the service though. Maybe I'm just old-fashioned, but I believe that the process of personal discovery plays a large role in the establishment of a long-term relationship; getting to know each others personality and strengths while exercising tolerance with what you may find annoying is part of the whole "relationship" package. As an added bonus, it's just plain fun. So, where's the fun in finding that out by taking the equivalent of an SAT? It's definitely not of interest to me, but in fairness to That Site and, if I'm honest my own curiosity, I decided I needed to find out what's what by going through the application process myself.

I registered on the site, and I am now a 55 year old male from California called Robert. The lengthly questionnaire starts with the most basic information; how much money I make, what's my religious belief, and the all-important description of my appearance. Fortunately, the questions are gender non-specific, so I didn't have to fib. You are also asked to fill out your criteria for the wealth, religion and appearance of your future partner. Once that's done, the real fun begins because you are met with page after page after page of required information divided into the categories of Self Description, Personal Characteristics, Relationships and Values, Important Qualities in a Partner, Personal Interests, Basic Living Skills and Basic Matching Information. Some questions are answered either True or False, but the majority of information is answered by degrees graduating from "Strongly Agree" to "Strongly Disagree". It's nothing if not thorough and because there are over ten pages of information to be completed I won't go into detail about what's asked; after all, I'm doing this so you don't have to. I can tell you one of my favorites was "I waste my time". I answered "Strongly Disagree" and fortunately my boss didn't see what I was up to and strongly disagree with me. After that process is completed there are quite a few essay-type questions, and the answers supplied show up verbatim in your profile in the event your future partner wants to check you for spelling and grammar I suppose. Once the essay portion is completed, there's the matter of reviewing the five page, small-print Terms of Service Agreement, then deciding which "Subscription Plan" you want. Depending on the length of subscription, the price can range from $23.95-$44.95 per month, but, shamefully, the network went down before I could complete my payment.

The entire process was so mind-numbingly tedious, I think I would have preferred to transcribe the O.J. Simpson Trial. Nevertheless, as not to corrupt the results, "Robert" answered all of the questions with a reasonable degree of honesty and effort, and according to the eight-page profile created for him in only two hours based on my answers, he's really a nice guy. He is described as sensitive, responsible, democratic, contemplative, fair, proper, self-aware, accepting, rational, witty, charming, passionate, diplomatic, able to cope, receptive, reliable, organized, dependable, genuine, amiable, relaxed, poised, temperate, solid and laid-back. Face it ladies, he's quite a catch.

I'm still not convinced though. I truly believe that attraction is a chemical reaction based on the five senses, and in the "courting" process, you discover the rest. In contrast, e-compatibility is an academic exercise, as refreshing as stale beer, and not altogether reliable. Look at the case of "Robert"; no matter how much Joan in El Segundo or Sara in West Hollywood ** are convinced of their compatibility with him, they still don't know "he" is in reality, me.

**Since I didn't complete the payment process, no females were harmed in the writing of this column.

BOND VILLAIN NOW HIRING

Good old BBC America. Every now and again, say after showing their smash reality show My Big Breasts and Me for the 51st time, they come through with something I enjoy. This month they are replaying selected James Bond films and that's great news for me because I love a Bond film. Any Bond film. Even one with Roger Moore as 007, which is what BBCA is showing.

Unfortunately, I have a love/hate relationship with their latest offering, Moonraker. On one hand I love it because it has a great evil genius, Hugo Drax (shown, played by Michael Lonsdale). Then there's the character of "Holly Goodhead", an astronaut-slash-Bond Girl with a name second only to Goldfinger's "Pussy Galore" in terms of improbablility. It also has a good musical score with a lovely theme song performed by Shirley Bassey. The problem with this film though, is somewhere in the middle it appears that the director and/or screenwriter started experimenting with the fumes from model airplane glue because, for no apparent reason, the wheels start to come off. The film dissolves into a series of farcical gags featuring the steel-toothed henchman, called "Jaws" trying his best to kill Bond while generally acting silly and pulling faces that would have made Tommy Cooper, Red Skelton or any one of The Three Stooges proud. It's a complete embarrassment to watch, so you go for coffee and a sandwich until the production team sober up and get on with it, which they eventually do.

If you're not familiar with Moonraker, here is the plot in a nutshell. Hugo Drax, evil billionaire and genius, decides to take out the entire human race (as you do) by escaping to his personal space station with six space shuttles and a group of hand-picked couples a la Noah's ark. His plan is to launch a necklace of satellites around the earth to release a deadly poison into the atmosphere fatal only to humans then return to start a New World Order. No, really, that's the plot but surprisingly, the film is not bad.

With such an ambitious plan you can imagine in order to carry out his dream of world domination, Drax has a very complex system of companies employing what must be thousands of people around the world, and maybe because of the current economic climate (but more, I suspect, the beer I was drinking) while I watched the film this time, I wondered: where does he get his help? Does the Drax HR Department outsource? Hire temp-to-perm? Use professional headhunters? Maybe they do things the old fashioned way and advertise in the local newspaper but I have to think that given the nature of his operation the ad would have a few warning signs. How far in arrears on your mortgage payment would you have to be to answer this:

COME JOIN THE DRAX TEAM! If you are an enthusiastic, team player with an eye toward the future, the Drax Corporation want to hear from you. We are beginning work on an exciting new global project, and qualified candidates are being sought in the following areas: terrestrial and celestial construction, manufacturing, import/export, supply management, heavy goods transportation, real-estate acquisitions and development, multi-media and computer specialties, travel services, administrative (all areas), aircraft piloting and maintenance, aerospace technology and logistics, hazardous biochemical systems delivery, space shuttle piloting and maintenance, security (special training provided), and attractive females with experience in seduction and treachery.

Employment is offered in our branches in Los Angeles, Rio de Janiero, Rome and Outer Space. Length of employment varies on location; long-term employees will be required to relocate temporarily to the Drax Space Station.

Our generous benefit package includes salary commensurate with experience, weapons training, free travel, free uniforms and free burial services for terrestrial-based employees. Room and board, employer-sponsored health care and 401(k) plan provided to long-term, celestial-based employees and seductive females only. The Drax Corporation is an Equal Opportunity Employer.

No phone calls please.

It doesn't sound very promising but with current national unemployment at an approximate rate of 9.5 percent, I'm sure Drax would have no shortage of applicants. And, there's one benefit the recruiters didn't mention; the possible chance to seduce James Bond, 007.

Gentlemen, my application is on its way.

WASHINGTON DC, LAND OF THE LOST

A few months back I mentioned in a column that I think SatNav is a useless toy in a car, but I'm beginning to doubt that now. If anyone needs SatNav, it's anyone living in Washington DC and its environs.

For a start, there's the traffic. Washington DC is, according to which survey you read, either the fourth or fifth most congested city in the United States, although anyone sitting in DC traffic will argue that it's undoubtedly the first. Interstate 495, also known as the Capitol Beltway, the major ring road feeding traffic in and out of the city is a daily commuting nightmare. Even in the best weather conditions and no accident delays, the sheer volume of cars attempting to navigate the roads ensures a lengthly stress-filled journey . That's a good argument for SatNav right there as it's wise to have a minimum three alternate traffic avoidance routes to get to your destination.

But the real joy, and where SatNav is almost a necessity, is when you finally arrive in Washington DC proper, as proved once again the other evening when I got lost on a seemingly easy journey. I truly believe the city layout was designed under the geometric principle that the shortest distance between Point A and Point B is a cube.

Now, I have to say I have a very good sense of direction. In the years I lived in Los Angeles, London and Philadelphia, I never got lost. Never. I did once get lost in Cincinnati, but probably because I was hoping to permanently find a way out. However, in Washington, unless I know the exact route I need to take, I can almost guarantee I'll guess wrong and end up on a dead end street, or the Anacostia Freeway, which in my opinion is the same thing.

At this point I was going to give you my own description of Washington's street layout but after the fifth draft I was totally befuddled and longing for Cincinnati. So I'm borrowing the following abridged, but very accurate description from Wikipedia. Brace yourselves readers, this is the simplest description I could find:

"At the center of the design is the U.S. Capitol, from which four quadrants radiate along the four compass directions, Northwest, Southwest, Northeast and Southeast. The four quadrants are separated by North Capitol Street, South Capitol Street and East Capitol Street, with a line travelling due west serving as the fourth demarcation line. Streets that are oriented north/south are designated by numbers and count upwards from east to west in the
Northwest and Southwest quadrants of the city, starting at the Capitol; these streets repeat in the Northast and Southeast quadrants, counting upwards from west to east going away from the Capitol."

Confused yet? Wait. It gets better.

"Streets that are oriented east/west use a single letter of the alphabet, thus, east-to-west
streets "count" upwards from south to north in NW and NE and likewise repeat in the opposite direction from SW to SE. Street numbers count upwards travelling outward from the dividing lines of the quadrants. "A" Street, as named, is only found in NE and SE. in NW and SW,
the roads that would have been known as "A" Street are known as Madison Drive NW, and Jefferson Drive SW."

And, for sheer folly it seems, the city planners did this:

"There is no "J" Street in any quadrant. North of the Mall, the road that once was "B" Street NE and NW is now named Constitution Avenue; south of the mall the corresponding street is named Independence Avenue. There is also no "X", "Y" or "Z" Streets. "I" Street, "Q" Street and "U" Streets are alternately called "Eye", "Que" and "You" Streets to avoid confusion with other lettered streets."

After reading that I imagine some are thinking, "How can she be confused by that? There's nothing to it.". To which I reply, come to Washington DC without SatNav or a navigator (read: wife or girlfriend), anytime between 0700 and 2000 hours, or whenever there is inclement weather, a parade, a demonstration, a free concert on the Capitol lawn or a marathon. I'll wave to you as you drive by the third time trying to sort out where you need to go and how best to get there.

As an interesting sidenote, while looking over the internet I've found there are some very committed citizens who believe the city's quirky configuration is the result of architect and Freemason Pierre Charles L'Enfant's efforts to hide certain occultic and Luciferic symbols within the layout of the city. Whether this is true or not is the subject for a possibly heated Masonic debate, but anyone trying to navigate Washington DC without knowing precisely where they are going will probably agree that the confusing streets may well be the work of the Devil.

UN-FAIR HOUSING

I'm afraid I'm going to be a bit irritable and politically incorrect this week, and you can blame it on my neighbor. Her name is Jennifer, but I call her the "Good Humor Lady". She always carries a keyring so chock full of keys it would make a building superintendent jealous and since she doesn't work she's in and out of her unit at all hours, playing a chorus of "Jingle Bells" as she walks down the lengthly corridor.

GHL greted me this morning as I was rushing off late to work and announced, "Have you heard? They're moving all of us to different units!" Not your normal "hello" mind, but then, you don't know Jennifer.

The "all of us" she was referring to meant the tenants living in my condominium complex under Section 8, the subsidized housing arrangement sponsored by my city of residence. In my 476-unit complex, approximately 25% of the units are owned/operated by the city and rented out at reduced rates to disadvantaged citizens.

GHL went on to tell me that the reason for the tenant movement was because the city was completely remodelling all of the Section 8 units in the complex, installing new cabinets, bathroom fittings, carpets, window treatments, the lot. She told me she had already seen one of the re-decorated units, described in detail the new countertops in the kitchen, and then she made the mistake of asking, "Isn't that great"? My reply was less then cordial and I answered "Yeah, its great for you ."

I'd like to think my ungracious attitude was because it was early and I was running late, or the fact Jennifer is annoying at the best of times, but I'm rather more ashamed to say, I'm angry. I'm angry that my neighbor, who can work but doesn't (I know this to be fact; she collects Social Security Disability and once told me she doesn't want to work if she doesn't have to) has a unit nicer than my own courtesy of the City, and is shortly going to get a better one. I'm angry that I have to pay for condo maintenance and she doesn't, courtesy of the City. I'm angry that her monthly rental is approximately 35% less than my mortgage payment, courtesy of the City, and I'm angry of the fact that, despite holding down two jobs, I couldn't possibly afford the home improvements she and the other Section 8 tenants are getting free, courtesy of the City. The icing on the cake is I get to pay the City, in the form of tax dollars, for all the anger I'm feeling.

Before I get bad mail about this, let me say that I know many of my Section 8 neighbors and I'm quite fond of a few of them; there's the man who lives down the hall, retired from Amtrak who suffers from diabetes. He always has a nice word to say and talks to my dog while she sits on my balcony waiting for me to come home; there's the elderly lady who used to live in the unit that GHL occupies. She was close to my late partner and me, and brought food over to me more than once after his death because she thought I wasn't taking care of myself properly. Then there's the wheelchair-bound lady who never seems to have a bad mood, and who made my Mother's day once by saying she thought Mom and I were sisters....

Hang on, maybe I've got this wrong. It's not Section 8 or the remodeling that I have a problem with at all. It's Jennifer the GHL, and people like her who work the System, take unfair advantage of it, and then remind the rest of us that it happens that makes me angry.

And the person I'm most angry with right now? Me, for letting it get to me in the first place. Rant over.

THE 80'S ARE BACK! GREAT.....I THINK.

When it comes to shopping for clothes and shoes, I'm a bit simple. I know what I like to wear, I know who sells it, I know which sizes of which items fit me best so on the internet I go, click-click-click and there. Clothes shopping done. In fact these days the only time I seem to go out to do any shopping at all is when an item just can't wait, like something for the house, or a new DVD I want. Since I haven't done any proper clothes shopping for ages, I really don't notice fashion trends, so I was completely surprised to recently hear two women talking about how fashions of the 80's are coming back in style.

I was very excited to hear this because the 80's was my favorite decade. For everyone there is a time in life where the world is all excitement, fun and new experiences and the 80's was my time for that. I lived in a new city, had a new career, new friends, fun aplenty, and since the city I'm talking about is Los Angeles, people had to look gooooood.

It was easy to look good in the 80's because, well, there was so much to look at. A quick check into my 80's wardrobe closet would have revealed at least 10 different electric colored jackets, blouses, slacks, skirts, oversized knits and leggings of varying prints and patterns, all interchangeable of course. Naturally, there were the matching leg warmers, matching floppy socks and matching shoes and boots. If I wasn't tidy, the bottom of my wardrobe might well have looked like an explosion at a paint factory. Then there were the obligatory hair accessories, plastic bracelets and ear rings (again, in all colors), ripped sweat-shirts a la Jennifer Beals in Flashdance and studded leather jewelry and fishnet gloves a la Madonna. Other than the designer brands, jeans were non grata, and flat shoes outside ankle boots were absolutely verboten. For anyone who wasn't fully grown in the 80's and can't quite comprehend the nature of 80's fashion, here's a tip: rent the movie Purple Rain. It'll become crystal clear to you, believe me.

I was well dressed in the 80's. My job required it, I enjoyed it and despite it looking a bit complicated, it was surprisingly comfortable as fashion goes. It could even be practical. Having a bad hair day? No need to worry, just apply some spiking hair gel or spray and, way-hey, a new style is born. So, would I wear these fashions today? Absolutely. Would it still feel comfortable? Yes, I think so. Could I get way with it? Ummm.....in a photo-shoot with ten or more 1980's models wearing the same fashions, probably, but on my own at a local Chinese take-out, probably not. I think I'd look like one of those school chaperones who gets up to dance with the kids.

Still, these fashions looked good then, they look good now and I'd like to wear them again. So, Christie Brinkley, Paulina Porizkova, Elle MacPherson et al, let's show the world that 80's fashions are fun whatever your age. We know. We dressed that way...in the 80's.

A CLASS(LESS) REUNION

Some time ago, while either very bored or very drunk, I registered with my graduating class of 197? on the website Classmates.com. Typically social sites don't have much interest for me but I probably had a moment of nostalgia after hearing music by Earth Wind & Fire or England Dan and John Ford Coley. It's unusual that I registered with this social site in particular because, there's no other way to say it, I absolutely hated high school.

My memories of high school consist mainly of mind-numbing tedium and desperate unhappiness at being a social outcast and the butt of ridicule and taunts (I was a bit of a fattie). High school wasn't a happy experience, it was something to be endured; a requirement I had to fulfill before I could go out and get a proper job. There was the occasional break in the clouds though; the drama club, where I won a Best Supporting Actress award one year, the fencing lessons, the orchestra and marching band (thanks Uncle John for the use of the clarinet), and the college-level sociology class I took in my senior year, memorable for being a "by application only" class and one of the very few courses where I felt challenged and never ditched.

Given my dismal high school experience I was expecting not to recognize the names of anyone who had already registered on Classmates.com but surprisingly I did. My name must have jogged a few memories for others because several people have signed my guestbook; sadly the site makes you pay extra to read them and I don't want to dole out the cash. Never mind, because if people want to reach you they can email you from the information on your profile. Since registering I've received several emails; one from someone telling me of an upcoming Band reunion (meaning I must be on a list in someone's house), and recently I've received an email from an old classmate asking if I'd like to participate in an upcoming class reunion activity. Now, that's a problem for me. You see, up until now I've never attended any of my class reunions. Either I wasn't living in the area or as in the case of the latest reunion, I didn't find out in time. Now, thanks to high tech if I choose not to participate I really have no excuse...now they know where I live.

Some friends say that I should attend and if I'm honest part of me is curious, but then the other part of me asks, why on Earth would I want to? I'm sure many of the participating alumni stayed friends over the years or at a minimum, kept in touch. They probably have many good memories of the high school experience and see the reunion as chance to rekindle old friendships. On the other side of the coin there's me, who intentionally put high school as far out of mind as quickly as possible. I keep in touch with one close friend from my school days (she was a social outcast as well), but as for the others, my memories of them are vague at best and painful at worst. "Maybe you need to go now -- put it all behind you", said one of my friends. Frankly I put it all behind me years ago. But for Classmates.com and an email from a seemingly very nice lady high school would be light years from my mind.

If I go to the reunion I think the most I can expect is a mildly pleasant evening. Mind you, not because of any resurfacing painful memories of high school but for the simple fact that time has passed and I've moved on. I think that now, just as it seemed to me then, my former classmates and I probably have nothing, absolutely nothing in common.

So despite my curiosity I think I'll pass on the reunion this time and instead spend a pleasant evening with some people who actually know me. It'll be less expensive, less stressful, and I won't even have to wear make-up.

IF THERE'S CASH FOR CLUNKERS, I'M A MILLIONAIRE.

As my many faithful readers (cough) will remember, last month I wrote about new cars and new car shopping (What's Wrong With Just Driving?) and in my continuing quest for automotive education, I've been reading up a bit on the government-sponsored stimulus package, the Car Allowance Rebate System (CARS). Real people like me call it Cash for Clunkers.

Without going into too much detail -- it is a government-sponsored plan, after all -- the Bill was introduced by the House and Senate as an incentive for consumers to purchase more fuel-efficient vehicles. I suspect getting people into a showroom to spend money had something to do with it as well, but the government won't tell you that. In the Bill, the new-car buyer receives a rebate provided their trade-in vehicle and purchase meet the following guidelines:

- the trade-in value of the used car is less than $4500
- the trade-in vehicle is less than 25 years old
- the trade-in is rated on the government website www.cars.gov as having a combined MPG of 18 MPG or less

If the trade-in vehicle fulfills these requirements and

- the new vehicle has a combined MPG rating of 22 or higher, the buyer receives $3500 or,
- the new vehicle gets a combined MPG of 10 over the MPG of the trade-in, the buyer receives $4500

The Bill calls for all "Clunkers" turned in to be hauled away as scrap, which has the environmentalists up in arms, but that's up to the talking heads in Washington to debate. Besides, who cares about the environment when someone waves $3500-$4500 under your nose?

Reading up on the plan got me thinking about all the ancient pre-owned cars in my life, and I came to the conclusion that if Cash for Clunkers had always been around, I could have made/saved a small fortune. Here, in order of purchase, is the Huggins inventory of Clunkers past.

1964 PLYMOUTH VALIANT - my favorite car of all, probably because it was the first. Bought for $75, we used to joke that the car was so indestructable, it could drive over a dumpster undamaged. Built before the days of undercoating, my foot went through the bodywork of the rear panel while I was kicking snow away from the tire one morning, but it still had four wheels and was warmer than the bus shelter. Sold it for $75.

1965 PLYMOUTH VALIANT - If a Valiant worked once, I figured it would work again. Painted a lovely gold color with only minor staining on the seats, this one even had a radio and a working heater.

1971 FORD PINTO HATCHBACK - What substance was I smoking when I bought this one? Lime green exterior with a forest green interior in lovely vinyl, it had the popular Landau roof that so many cars had those days. But it did look modern compared with the two Valiants and I was so anal about this car I dragged my stepdad to a junkyard because the badge was missing from the back. Finding a replacement was easy, there were a lot of Pinto's in the junkyard. I didn't learn my lesson though because my next car was a,

1979 FORD PINTO HATCHBACK - Yes, I can't get enough of a bad thing. To be honest, this was quite a good car. By 1979 Ford had fixed the Pinto's pesky exploding gas-tank problem and it never had a breakdown. This little car got me and everything I owned all the way from Washington DC to Los Angeles when I moved to L.A. in the 80's, and ran many, many miles after that with only regular maintenance. Why is it in the Clunker category then? It had a burnt-orange exterior and a light orange interior and it was.....a Pinto.

1983 TOYOTA COROLLA - Toyota's have a reputation for good quality, but they must have forgotten that when they made the second-hand one I bought. Rough handling, jerky transmission and an uncomfortable ride all 'round, I sold this to a dealer for cash (and with money out of pocket) just to get rid of it.

1982 VW RABBIT - A great little car this, but it really qualified as a clunker because it had a diesel engine and was incredibly awkward to shift gears. Being a diesel, it sounded like a truck, and when I moved back to Washington, I realized diesels + cold weather = bad news. It met it's end when the engine hydrolocked about 100 yards from the entrance to the Baltimore Harbor Tunnel.

And, the best clunker of 'em all,

1993 FORD FESTIVA - After the 1964 Valiant, my absolute favorite car. Fun, easy to drive, inexpensive to own, this car could navigate snow and ice almost as good as my current car, the Subaru Outback. My mechanic once told me that the engine on the Festiva would still be running long after the body rusted away. I hope the couple I foolishly sold it to are taking very good care of it. Why then is it a clunker? Cut and paste this link to find out:

http://www.atozautolights.com/images/AutoPhotos/FOFE8893.jpg

Mind you, these aren't all the cars I've owned, these are just the clunkers. So, President Obama, members of the House and Senate, please make Cash for Clunkers 25 years retroactive. I could pay off a lot of bills.

Or buy a restored Ford Festiva.