I reckon it’s about that time. This born and bred Houstonian is off to Dallas tomorrow morning. Tall buildings and whatnot. Houston has it’s share of skyscrapers, but Dallas just has this vibe. The finance industry. The Federal Reserve. Those crazy highways. Hopefully big city life won’t corrupt me.

Who am I kidding.

there is now an archives page. check out the "archives" link under mumbo jumbo (top right of this page).

Dallas proper is actually smaller than Houston. I’ve spent one day here and I already feel like I have a solid feel of how to get around. I live down the street from every business establishment I could possibly need. Central Market. Bike shop. Haircut place. CVS. A plethora of restaurants. I could and probably will ride my bike or walk to these places whenever possible. A rail station is also down the street so I can take the train to work and save money on gas.

I met up with some old UT friends that I haven’t seen in ages last night and saw the Al Gore movie. My conclusion is that I would have rather read an academic paper or seen the actual lecture instead of sitting through two hours of what was essentially bits of the Al Gore slideshow interspersed with Al Gore autobiographical background. His message was meaningful and heartfelt though, and backed by solid data, so it gets my overall approval. See it. Be prepared for lots of charts and graphs. Al likes charts and graphs.

Today I also hung out with another UT friend that’s been in Dallas a few years. We’re going to watch the Mavericks game at a pub with some of her friends. I don’t know a damn thing about the Mavs or the basketball season in general, so I’m mainly going to hang out and meet people. And drink lots of beer of course. Tomorrow morning we’re going for a bike ride around White Rock Lake with a couple of her biker friends. Ride time is set at 9 am. Cross your fingers and pray I actually make it.

Oh yeah, and the apartment. I’m subletting from a law student who is spending the summer in DC. She cleaned the place up and left all of her furniture here. It’s a nice place. And did I mention clean? I feel obligated to keep it tidy while she’s gone.

Work starts Monday and I’m psyched. Happy Saturday night!

I went mountain biking today and introduced myself to a friendly couple I saw in the parking lot. This was fortuitous because I would have had no idea where I was going once on the trail. I also managed to make two new friends – friends that like mountain biking.

The first trail was at Cedar Hill State Park. It was twelve miles of tight switchbacks and narrow passes; not the ideal environment for my extra-huge 29”-wheeled bike. This bike likes wide open spaces. Navigating through the switchbacks was a chore; the trail took a sharp turn just as soon as a straight-away presented itself. I missed my smaller 26” bike. Score Dallas trails: 1.

Then I ran over a prickly pear and got a flat tire. Score Dallas trails: 2.

Then, angling for revenge, I suggest to my new friends that we ride another trail they mentioned. This one – Boulder Park – was a few exits down the highway and much more fun. There was more space to maneuver, more downhills to speed through, and more climbs to grind up. Good times.

But the Dallas trails were not through with my first day of mountain biking here. While attempting to negotiate a particularly gnarly rooty section of trail, my front wheel got stuck and I nearly endo’d. I thankfully managed to avoid the endo but the bike did come down and hit something, maybe a tree stump. Either way, when I came to and looked at the bike, I noticed that my brakes looked funny. Keep in mind this was only minutes after we started riding and I was anxious to see the rest of the trail.

Before I go further, I have to explain something about this bike. You know how cars and motorcycles have disc brakes? A metal rotor attaches to the center of the wheel and hydraulic fluid forces pads in a caliper to squeeze on the rotor, thus slowing the wheel. Some mountain biking yahoos several years ago decided mountain bikes needed disc brakes too. In my opinion they only add cost, complexity, and weight to the bike. The original brakes that squeeze pads against the outer rim of the wheel work just fine for my taste. But as it turns out, more and more mountain bikes are coming stock from the factory with disc brakes. Mine is one such bike. I don’t like the disc brakes, but I’ll live with them since they’re already there. Or maybe I won’t…

So, I looked at my brakes and noticed that the rotor on the rear brake looked bent to hell. I spun the wheel and – lo and behold – the rotor was so bent that it wouldn’t spin through the caliper. I now had a non-functional rear brake.

Option A: call off the ride and walk back to the car. Option B: render the rear brake superfluous and ride with only a front brake. Which did I choose?

Option B. I removed the disc rotor and stuck it my Camelbak. Viola. No more bent rotor getting stuck in the caliper. This also means I rode the rest of the trail with only a front brake. So I guess it’s Dallas: 3, me, 0. But I did manage to keep the bike in running condition. I think Dallas: 3, me: 1 is fair.

I’d really like to get rid of the disc brakes now. I'm going to try to bend it back into shape, but if i can't, a new one will run $40. I can’t use older style brakes because the bike frame doesn’t have the proper mounts. I could buy a new frame with the proper mounts... But that would cost a lot more than $40.

I must admit though – riding with one brake does add a new level of challenge (insanity?) to this mountain biking thing. Imagine driving a jeep down a rocky downhill section of off-road trail with only front brakes. You do the physics.

Went out Tuesday night to celebrate my friend’s last week in Dallas. He’s going to another law firm for the rest of the summer back in his home town of Baird, Texas (aka BFE). His older sister came along and she basically knows everyone. We started out at a sushi restaurant and she knew the bartender. I had three (or four?) long island ice teas. I was feeling quite happy. The sushi was great as was the people-watching. After that we went to another chi-chi bar that specialized in tequila. Before I can say “in over my head” my friend’s older sister is talking to a guy in a blazer who turns out to be one of the owners. They’re friends. So I get another long island, this one on the house. Then we see Don Nelson, former Mavericks coach. He’s totally sloshed. The next hit is some bar I can’t remember by now. I tried to drink a 7 and 7 but it wasn’t happening, so water became the beverage of choice. Then we run into Tim Cowlishaw, who my friend claims is a sportswriter for the Dallas Morning News and sometimes-guest on ESPN. My friend ogles Tim. I ogle the flashy-looking girls walking around.

Went out again last night but kept things in check. Two beers, no celebrities, just a safe Jewish happy hour. I was home by 11.

The firm is throwing a happy hour tonight and ANOTHER tomorrow night. So that will make it four nights in a row of going out. After this run I may have to go on a dry spell to make sure my liver and I are still on good terms.

And now it's 8:00 am and I gotta run to work.

i changed the charity for my particleman and particlegirl stores. while the red cross is good, i don't think it was motivating people. i've chosen a charity that means more to me. the Mr. Holland's Opus Foundation raises money for music education programs throughout the country, including 15 schools right here in Tejas. let's get those kids playing a new double bass, trumpet, sax, or some other instrument that might get them cool points. the links are at the top-right of this page. thanks.

I went to a BBQ with another portion of the Dallas Jew Crew and found that none of them were actually from Dallas. Maybe one was, but mostly I remember places of origin ranging from Russia to Mexico to Houston to Atlanta. Being a fan of accents (I don’t have one*), I had a particularly good time talking to the woman whose family fled Russia for Israel in 1990 and is in Dallas for school. She and her fiancé are now angling to get back to Israel. There’s nothing quite like the accent of a Russian who spent over half of her life in Israel. Listening to her talk brought back a lot of old memories.

I sat the last Mavs game out so I’m off to a pub to check out tonight’s match. We’re meeting at The Gingerman. I couldn’t be happier.

*You know, except for the whole “y’all” thing, and the git er done thing.

The floor below ours is undergoing remodeling and we think the workers flipped the wrong switch today. The lights went out in half of the office and the internet went down. So what happens then? Everyone congregates at the receptionist's desk, shrugs, and someone inevitably says, "Since we can’t work, we might as well make ourselves drinks."

Unfortunately, the lights came on a couple of minutes later and the internet followed soon thereafter. Impromptu happy hour at work averted. Damn.

My ipod has been playing a lot of Billy Joel lately. I only have 14 Billy Joel songs (out of more than 600 total songs) but they somehow keep coming up in the mix. I leave it on shuffle and listen to whatever it chooses. Lately, it’s been a lot of Billy Joel. I think ipod is trying to tell me to get in touch with my Bronx self.

Fuggedaboutit.

It’s not just the work. Or the new city I get to explore. Or all the cool people I’m meeting. There have been many moments when I knew that I found the right bunch of people, but there is one that stands out.

The other intern and I were hanging out in our corner of the office and the main attorney we work for came over to chat. The movie Napoleon Dynamite came up in conversation and before you can say ughhhh the attorney and I are exchanging one-liners from the movie. We basically reproduced the entire script right there on the spot. I even busted out my butterfly move.

If they get me drunk enough I might even have to break dance.

My friend (let’s call her O) and I skipped the Mavs game and opted for sushi and then beer with the Jew Crew. One of the girls was celebrating her last weekend in Dallas and the result was a Jewtastic party at a local bar. I had my introduction to the Dallas Jew scene, and I must say, there are lots of them and they travel in packs.

The bike ride this morning was awesome. It’s 9-mile loop around a beautiful lake complete with sailboats. It’s pretty flat but sufficiently twisty to keep things interesting. After one lap with O and her friends, I rode one more lap alone when they left to play softball. I then went to Richardson Bike Mart to scope the bikes they carry. I asked if they carry Lemond, and the salesman guy smiled. Apparently, Greg Lemond talked smack about Lance Armstrong using drugs to stay competitive. Since Richardson Bike Mart is where Lance got his start in cycling, Richardson isn’t crazy about selling Lemond bikes anymore. The Richardson owner called Trek (parent company of Lemond) and bitched. Hence, the salesmen said he could probably get me a Lemond, but there sure are lots of other bikes to look at…

Then I spent the whole afternoon catching up on season one of 24 (the tv show).

Sorry if these posts are starting to read like play-by-plays of my life.

Oh yeah, and then I made spaghetti with ground turkey for dinner. Now you have a complete play-by-play of my weekend. Come back tomorrow for details about my first day of work.

The Dallas Mavericks lost the NBA Championship. Of course the finals were kind of a big deal here being that the locals are crazy for their Mavs. I would have liked them to win since they are a Texas team, and even despite the fact that their owner tends to be a spoiled brat. It was apparent by game five that there was a pattern. I watched the first two games, and the Mavs won those first two games. I did not watch the next three games, and the Mavs lost those three games. Thus, when I watch, the Mavs win. I’m clearly the deciding factor.

I informed my colleagues about this theory and they all agreed that I had better watch game six. I acquiesced.

Not only did I watch the game, I watched the whole thing. There was no slacking going on. No channel flipping. No phone calls. No nothing. I sat on my tuchus and watched. Things started out just fine as the Mavs took an early lead. Good, it’s working. Now they just have to hang in there with me and all will be well. But no, they had to go and get careless. Bad shots. Bad passes. Bad decisions. And they totally had it too. Gary Payton was useless to the Heat. He basically gave the Mavs the ball on several occasions. Shaq, as usual, was no more than a moving wall. What happened?

I don’t know, but I did my part. It was a good run and there’s always next year. Congrats to the Mavs for getting as far as they did.

I woke up this morning, my first day or work, and took a quick shower. Then I got ready to shave. I shook the shaving cream canister a little and pressed the button. Nothing. No shaving gel. Nada. There I stood, wet and ready to shave, holding an empty can of shaving cream. I tried to keep myself from freaking out. Showing up to work with two days’ worth of stubble is no good even at my beard’s teenage growth rate.

Then I think: “Hey, the girl who lives here must shave.”

Ladies and gentleman, I shaved this morning with Skintimate Moisturizing Shave Gel, Citrus Sun Tea scented.

It wasn’t even that good of a shave. I highly suggest the ladies out there switch to a men’s shave gel. Get yourselves a can of Gillette Complete Skincare Multigel. It even comes in a fragrance-free variety so you don’t have to worry about smelling like a dude. Trust me on this one. If my face likes it, your legs and whatnot will like it too.

Otherwise, work today was good. Lots of the usual first-day here’s the copy room, there’s the kitchen, that’s your desk. They took us out to lunch and it was good. I can’t talk about work because, you know, rules and stuff. But my view rocks. Fifty-third floor! Oh yeah, and there was a jumper on the parking garage next door. That was kinda weird. Some lady that apparently wasn’t too happy with her state of affairs perched herself at the top of a parking garage for a few hours, and we could see her and the cops that surrounded her. They eventually talked her down.

Tomorrow I have lunch with my old San Antonio buddy who I suckered into going to law school. I mean, who I suggested take the LSAT just for the hell of it and eventually went to Baylor, which he hates, but which also allowed him to meet his fiancé. Life is funny like that.

I went for a ride around White Rock Lake last night and watched the sun set on the water. It was beautiful. Sailboats docked at shore, couples walking hand in hand, kids on rollerblades. I brought my lights so the few cars that drive on the lakeside drive would see me. After the sun set, I noticed that the road became deserted. I figured at least a few die hard cyclists would ride past sunset, but I was all alone on the road. I found out pretty soon why.

Bugs. It was like the 11th plague.

"And the Lord said: I will send down swarms of obnoxious foul-tasting bugs upon any straggling cyclist left circling my pure waters after sunset. The bugs will hit him head-on like hail falling on the earth. He will have to cast his face down and away from the headwind to avoid eating the creatures. The cyclist will gaze around him and behold that he is alone in his soulless endeavor. Staying in shape is futile and unholy. But since I pity him, I will place protein in the creatures, so that when the bugs are forced down the cyclist’s throat, he will get some nourishment, which the skinny bastard needs anyway."

I thought my car had done broke, but it was only this thing called a Speed Sensor and not that expensive to fix, so all is ok with the Honda. On the other hand, my brother-in-law brought home his 2004 BMW 330i today and i took it for a spin around the neighborhood, and now I want a BMW 330i. Man, that thing could corner. I was doing 80 in the rain down a winding street and the tires only broke once.

In other news, the radio station 101.5 in Austin has a "Lunchtime Flashback" where listeners can call in requests for flashback songs - ie, songs from the previous era, or what have you. Usually they play songs from the 70s and 80s that really are from before my era. But today, some dude asked for Aneurysm by Nirvana. WTF? I still listen to that. It's not a flashback. I have three versions of that song on my iPod: the original studio version, a B-side version, and a live version. So what if the song is basically 15 years old. Does that make it a flashback? Obviously, the correct answer here is No.

Working till 6:30-ish and then going out means you get home at 11 and crash. Saw the Arctic Monkeys and We Are Scientists last night. AM were a lot better than I imagined and WAS were not as good as the last time I saw them. I think it was mainly the sound guy. All I heard was mud. No notes. AM are talented song craftsmen and the execution was tight and organized. I was very impressed considering they’re all 19 or 20 years old.

At one point, the AM singer was jabbering at us about something and I thought to myself, “I can’t understand a word this guy is saying. Those crazy Brits.” Then he says, “You know, I’m speaking very clearly for you guys.” If he was, I couldn’t tell.

Also, i bought new shaving cream.

the cabbie asked me how old i was. i said, "guess." he responds with, "i don't know, maybe 28? you look like you been around the block a couple times." AROUND THE BLOCK?