To E (A: Definitely Dish) - scroll down for pic

My hunch paid off, and the second clue helped a whole, whole lot.

A pass, a dime
round-ball assist (all basketball plays)
plate or bowl
can all be this (dishes)

It's near a square (Overton)
Think opposite of old (Young Avenue)
At a rubber tire company (Cooper Street)
Maybe sterling, maybe gold

I don't get the sterling/gold references. No matter. Objective met.

Oh my gosh! Objective met! This actually does feel a lot like a real-world version of The World Ends With You! :-)

So, as I recall, I get one question -- huzzah! I'm actually going to give you two questions from which to choose. If one of them narrows it way down and effectively brings things to a close, answer the other one. Once I figure this out, I do have a couple of questions and maybe a favor. Make a fake account or something; drop me an e-mail at katesink AT gmail DOT com. Yes, there's a reason. All will become clear shortly.

Question option 1: From where do I know you?
Question option 2: How long have I known you?

Very nice person indeed

This is the note I mentioned in my blog a few days ago, from Michael H. (who I don't remember). The note has been in my childhood bedroom a long time.

I love how it says "Kate" at the top, like that's the name of an assignment. "Okay, let's see here. Kate. Must think of something nice to say about Kate. Are we being graded on this?"

If you can't read it, it says: Kate. Kate is one of the nicest people I have ever met, even though she is very quiet! I believe she is a beautiful person inside and out, and I hope she stays that way. -- Michael H___. P.S. Can't wait to read your book! :)

Theories as to who this guy is and why he was assigned the task of saying something nice about me?

So I went to Dish ...

... because you can dish the ball AND a plate and a bowl are both dishes. Oh, and because it's on Young Avenue (opposite of old). So there you have it. Best guess. I had a couple of people brainstorm and we all came to the same conclusion. So thanks to those folks. We're either all right or all wrong together.

While we were in Midtown snapping pictures, we stopped for dinner just down the street at Celtic Crossing on Cooper. First time there. Paul and I used a gift certificate I won at the corporate spelling bee last October. (Hey, I don't make it to Midtown very often.) I had the pork tenderloin; Paul had the shepherd's pie. We had some cash left over, so we got a creme brulee and a bread pudding to go. Good stuff.

Here's a pic of Dish, site of the past two office Christmas parties. Caused some confusion with Paul the first year when I told him we were going to a tapas bar for a party. Tapas, not topless.

Clue-related brain drain

I've been on a jewelry blitzkrieg -- a couple of pieces for friends, then wrapping some crystals and stones I bought earlier this week.

Packing is slow because I keep getting distracted, and not just by jewelry (although that does have a huge impact). I'll start off with the best intentions of sorting through a box, then I'll come across some cool stuff and ... well, there goes my productivity.

Example: I have a huge box of wedding cards from bridal showers and whatnot, but last night I found a bunch of cards that had been separated from the pack. So I started looking through them. We have the sweetest friends, for real. I really should scan some of these things. (Something else to distract me from packing. Sigh.)

Okay, so I'm having a bit of trouble breaking down E's clue, and today's the last day for me to finish it and get a l33t bonus. Here's the clue part of his comment:

a pass, a dime
round-ball assist
plate or bowl
can all be this

its near a square
think opposite of old
it can be round
and opposite of gold

Hurm. Random thoughts. A pass and an assist are basketball terms. A dime is another term for an assist, if I recall. So what can basketball plays be? Good? A good pass, a good assist? Dropped? You can drop a pass (etc.), as well as a plate or bowl.

What are some local squares? Well, there's Overton Square (the obvious), Court Square (the next obvious), then Collierville and Bartlett town squares. I assume Germantown has one too.

Opposites of old are young or new or modern. The only opposite of gold I can think of is silver.

Thoroughly stuck. Must think harder.

By the way, E: I've never been to the Tower Room, so I didn't realize there was a lounge there. As in a not-going-to-break-the-bank lounge -- which was my whole problem with the restaurant. Someone clued me in way after the fact. (Oops.) So my "I'm not going there; it's too expensive" argument is kind of moot, but I didn't know it at the time. So, yeah, the shot of vodka's on me. :-)

Oh, and ... if I don't have the answer by, say, Monday night, I'll forfeit my question in favor of another hint to this place. This is the first one that's really tripped me up. Ran it past the usual crew; none of them could get it either. Will keep thinking.

Matthew's coming over. Must go.

(Beep) Paging Jerome with the cat named LemonKitty

Highlights from an actual chat. Just read it. Did I talk that way in middle school?

9:20 PM xvolleyballxchix: hey

me: ... hey?

Who is this?

9:22 PM xvolleyballxchix: carley

me: Well, hi, Carley. I don't think I know you.

xvolleyballxchix: you dont

9:23 PM me: ... okay then ...

xvolleyballxchix: what school do you go to

me: I've been out of college for, hmm, six years now.

9:24 PM xvolleyballxchix: what is your name
[[snip]]

me: Why do you want to know?

xvolleyballxchix: your name

me: Why?

9:26 PM xvolleyballxchix: jw

me: Did Matt put you up to this?

9:27 PM xvolleyballxchix: no

hi Jerome

me: Oh for goodness sake. I really don't know you.

9:28 PM xvolleyballxchix: how old are you

me: Apparently quite a bit older than you.

xvolleyballxchix: no your not

what was you middle school

me: And I'm not quite sure why I'm still having this conversation other than I'm really effing bored and have nothing better to do

xvolleyballxchix: so what

9:29 PM me: ... My name's Simone.

There, are you happy?
[[snip]]

9:33 PM xvolleyballxchix: are you really not jerome who sta middle school in the sixthh grade

9:34 PM me: ::laughs:: Really really.

Why would Jerome have the name "lemonkitty"?

9:36 PM xvolleyballxchix: bc thats his cats name

and why would simone hhave the name lemonkitty

???

9:37 PM yo

yo

yo

yo u there

simone

9:38 PM YO

me: Oh, I'm here. Sorry. Hubby sent me a video of a cat.
[[snip]]

9:39 PM xvolleyballxchix: omg stop it

9:40 PM you are jerome

me: ... How can I prove to you I'm not?

xvolleyballxchix: fine if you already went to college

then what was you major

me: Journalism, News-Editorial.

Minor in sociology.

9:41 PM Married to an analytical chemist.

xvolleyballxchix: whta job do you do now

what her name

me: I'm a research analyst for a newspaper.

xvolleyballxchix: whats you wifes name

me: I'm not telling you his name!

I'm a woman.
[[snip]]

9:44 PM xvolleyballxchix: stop

you havent toldme anything that couldnt make you jerome

9:45 PM me: ... Well, hopefully, I haven't told you anything that could make me Jerome, since I'm not.

xvolleyballxchix: so be honest

me: I'm not giving out a bunch of my info, for real.

xvolleyballxchix: your jerome

9:47 PM me: Okay, let's assume I am.

Then what?

9:49 PM xvolleyballxchix: well then you wouldnt be a lying git

so admit it or

9:50 PM me: git?

xvolleyballxchix: ya git

me: What the heck is that?

9:51 PM xvolleyballxchix: like a person like a bitch but a nicer word

so admit ut

9:52 PM me: I just realized you're probably, like, 14. Crap -- sorry about the bad language.

9:53 PM xvolleyballxchix: dont worry im used to it

9:54 PM me: Oh. Good, I guess. ... Though you probably shouldn't be at your age. ^_^

xvolleyballxchix: nbo its not that

i hate it

i dont use it

9:55 PM so your really not jerome

me: I'm really not.

xvolleyballxchix: ok

me: Though, again, he sounds like a nice guy.

With a nice cat.

xvolleyballxchix: ya

i guess

and im sorry

me: No worries.

9:56 PM xvolleyballxchix: will you be my friend though

me: I'm like twice your age.

9:57 PM xvolleyballxchix: so

9:58 PM me: I can't imagine we'd have much to talk about ... but I guess so ...

xvolleyballxchix: thank you

we can look bac and laugh about tonight

me: Yeah, it's going on my blog.

Hiring movers: $3,121. Getting to Charleston in one piece: Priceless.

First things first: The car’s fixed. The phone’s replaced. So, for at least this moment, all my electronics are functioning as intended. Yay!

Paul and I got the estimate today from the moving company that’ll be accompanying us on our journey to South Carolina.

The damage: $3,121.05. Paul’s moving allowance: $2,000.

The estimate is based on the weight of what we own, as well as packing, unpacking and insuring breakables such as my china and crystal. But the moving company (which, by the way, is a national chain and comes highly recommended) estimates our worldly belongings – well, the belongings we’re choosing to move – at 4,500 pounds.

We own a lot of heavy stuff! Half of that weight likely is the 50-inch, rear-projection TV we got over the weekend when Paul’s parents bought a Sony Bravia. A quarter is the entertainment center that’s no longer in use because of said TV but that I love too much to sell. And the other quarter is our king-sized, decorative iron bed. I know it’s heavy because of a recent incident involving a cat, a leash and a storm door. Really.

Despite the potential $1,200 out of pocket, there’s another positive aspect to hiring movers: They help unpack. This is mucho important because it likely will save me the surprise I got last year: finding several boxes of hoodies and whatnot four years after we moved.

And as soon as we unpack, the parties begin. (Yay!) Johanna’s booking a trip – hopefully for September? – using frequent flier miles. Mattie asked me last night when it would be okay to visit. (“You weren’t thinking I was going to not visit you, were you? I promised,” he told me.) And Mom and Dad are coming in October in what normally would’ve been our week in Destin.

Presumably at some point I’ll get a job. I was in this situation after Paul and I got married – not rushing to find a job – and it only took about six weeks for me to get really bored and start working at a bookstore until I found an editing gig.

Also on the right-after-we-move sched: Paul and the other new faculty (are they considered knobs?) will be taking a day trip to Fort Jackson to be fitted for uniforms. Unfortunately, much to my disappointment, faculty no longer get to wear “canoe hats.” Now they get berets. Imagine Paul in a beret. Yeah, that’s going to be fun.

No car ... no cell ... how did people live in the 1970s?

I listen to a lot of Coast to Coast, so I know it's an indisputable, scientific fact (ha ha!) that some people have psychic energy that zaps batteries and whatnot. Again, it must be completely true; otherwise, why would they put it on the radio?

... And I'll just keep believing that until our reptilian overlords bring their mothership back to Earth.

Now that I've got the joking out of the way, I can get to actually explaining my annoying problem. The battery in my new Charleston cell wasn't holding a charge. (It was supposed to have a 212-hour standby time, and I got 13 hours.) So, after some wrangling with two extremely nice Verizon CSRs and one extremely rude supervisor, I packed up the whole box o' stuff they sent (USB connector, charger, 14 manuals) to take to the Verizon store.

Paul and I started driving that way, and ... here it comes ... the Vue started acting up. The RPM meter stopped working, the hybrid "Eco" function stopped, and -- perhaps worst of all -- traction control turned off. The last definitely worried me the most; I've heard stern warnings from my father-in-law about making sure my TC is always turned on. He turned his off in his beautiful blue Sky so he could drive like a complete maniac (look, you'd have to know him to understand), and totaled his car. So, in my mind, no TC = imminent danger.

So we turned around from heading toward the Verizon store and drove to Saturn to drop off the car. Mom and Dad carted us to lunch and Verizon, so the good news is I have a working Charleston phone; the bad news is I've got a loaner car. Boo. Hopefully, I'll know the diagnosis on my car today. The Saturn shop was waiting until someone who is knowledgeable about hybrids came back to work. (The wait sucks, but I'd rather a hybrid specialist look at it anyway.)

And all this because my psychic power is sucking energy from batteries and light bulbs and ... human souls ... heck, I dunno. :-)

P.S. No offense to people who remember the 1970s and were not amused by my subject line. I'm just pushing your old-people buttons.

To E (A: Clark Tower/Tower Room)

Morning, E!

I kinda, sorta, maybe-just-a-little cheated on this, because I think your clue was pointing to Tower Room, and I just took a picture of Clark Tower. (But there's a bonus pic of the adjacent White Station Tower with the spinny top here.)

There's a good reason. Tower Room is mucho expensivo for a girly who's watching her pre-moving cash. I checked the menu online and almost immediately nixed plans to go, if there's no special reason to eat there. That's not to say we're not going to go before we leave town. Paul and I presumably will be celebrating something big the first week in July (wow, that's vague, isn't it? Or do you guys know what I'm talking about?), and I'm not sure if we're going to Texas de Brazil or elsewhere.

All that said, we've got that big thing in early July, then our anniversary in mid-July. I didn't want to have to wait that long to get my next clue. So, with your permission, this will have to do for now.

I don't have a ton to say about Clark Tower itself other than what I said before. Namely, I think it's cool it has its own ZIP code. ^_^

Oh, one more thing that's been on my mind: Some clues I get are really different from other clues. I mean, the styles, etc., are really different. So did you actually leave me the clue "u will find me wearing a tie...in an alternate universe"? I have no way of separating your clues from potential imposter clues. ... Of course, I guess there's really no way to figure out what's real online ... ever.

Garage sale-abration

Hopefully my very, very last appointment at UT Cancer today. I know, I know ... I said that last time, but they decided to run a couple more tests. Eh, whatever floats their boats.

I've heard a LOT of surprise about the July 4-5 garage sale plans. You're really going to have a garage sale on the Fourth of July?

Here's my reasoning:

• The die-hard garage-sale shoppers go on Friday
• That Friday happens to be July 4, but it works in our favor because ...
  
• Paul, his lab-partner Mike (who's piggy-backing on our sale) and I are all off work
• Hopefully some potential shoppers are off work, as well
  

The only downside, again, is that it is, indeed, July 4th. But once I share my reasoning with people, they've generally said, "Oh, yeah, that does make sense." And I don't think they're saying it just to be nice, though I am kind of oblivious to such things.

... So, seriously, does it still sound like a bad idea? I mean, I guess we could change dates since it's still a couple of weeks away. Yes, no, ambivalent?

On "Michael" (?), posters and high-school crushes

Paul and I spent a couple of hours Sunday night working on the three-pile packing method: keep, toss and sell. Overall, I was pleased at how much we agreed to throw away. There are just some things -- such as a pink "Princess" cell phone case for one of those huge old-school phones -- that we don't need and, in my opinion, shouldn't unleash upon the world.

I think our garage sale (July 4-5 at my house! Stop on by!) could consist solely of books and we'd still make a sizable sum of petty change. Space-wise, if we can cut our book collection in half, we'll be doing well.

In all the cleaning out, I found some Christmas, birthday and wedding cards. I'm the world's biggest sap and hold onto cards forever -- they just manage to migrate to various places in the house.

Out of all the cards, et al., was one that left me a little bewildered. It's written in pencil on a yellow index card and says something to the effect of: Kate is a very nice person, but she is a little quiet. It's signed by somebody who, even after two days, I cannot recall from the depths of my memory. His name is Michael H. (It says his whole name, but I won't list it here. It'd be just my luck that he'd be ego-surfing, read this and be angry I don't remember him.)

So there you have it. Michael H. thinks I'm nice and quiet.

I also found a poster that was given out with our class rings during my junior year of high school in 1996. Anybody know the poster I'm talking about? One side is for 100 signatures of people who turned your ring. (What is the significance of that?) Another has a little questionnaire, e.g., Weather/mood (my answer: Sunny/happy) and What I am wearing ... (answer: My fave jeans and flannel shirt). Some things in life change; jeans and flannel shirts are forever.

I saved the poster despite the slightly embarrassing, cryptic notes in the margin. For example, under a question about my grades, I wrote that I made mostly A's. Next to it, someone scrawled, "... except for in Latin." (I barely scooted by in Latin, probably because I suffered from a bad case of the I Don't Cares.)

I have no idea who made these margin notes; it was like my Mr. E quest of 1996. For the most part, they're true. On the line asking what my friends say about me is written "Psycho" (which is what I wrote) and "Lazy" (which is what the mystery writer wrote). Very funny.

And for the question, "Who has a crush on you?" I answered, "Nobody."

Next to it is scrawled, "Well ..."

Hmm ... no. The neurotic girl in the flannel shirt and worn-out blue jeans has never really been a crush magnet.

I mean, even Michael H. could only go so far as to call me "nice" and "quiet."

You know you live in the South when ...

... your pickup truck comes with a free gun.



If you hold out for the model-year-end clearance sale, I bet they'll throw in a coon dog and a duck decoy, too.

Weekend miscellany

It’s been a few days since my little mental health rant, so I’ve had a little time to process both the idea of taking a new med as well as the first few incredibly nauseating pills. I’ve always been very frank about my BPD in my blog (something I think I learned from Jerod at Crazy Meds).

I’m not nearly as shell-shocked as I was Tuesday. I was pretty upset then about being prescribed an anti-psychotic. A couple of days ago, Mattie asked me how I felt about being on it, which was probably the first time I’d thought about it since Tuesday. And I realized it’s not so bad. One, I’ve found a medication that’s kept me mostly stable for three years or so, to the point where people question whether I’m really bipolar at all. Two, I might get to quit it once I move and get settled in (in other words, when life calms down).

I’ll admit it’s frustrating. Like one of the articles at Crazy Meds says, you just have to come to terms with the likelihood you’ll be medicated for the rest of your life. And, really, it’s not so bad. I don’t have a terminal disease (assuming my liver holds out for that whole “lifetime of medication” thing :grins:) and I feel just fine. I sit in the waiting room at the psych office and feel positively normal. But days like Tuesday, when a doctor throws it in my face that I do indeed have a mental illness, aren’t easy. And that leads to blog posts like the one I wrote that afternoon!

--

Moving on now. De, you asked about my “stalker.” I haven’t really regretted the photo hunt – after all, it was my suggestion – except on the rare occasions when someone else warns me to look out for a serial killer. Yeah, most serial killers are clever, but I’m not sure they’re into silly poetry and cryptic clues.

I met my husband on the Internet. I’m not really scared of people online. I’m a smart cookie when I decide to implement the use of my brain, and I fight like a bat out of hell when I’m mad.

... And E has never peed on my car, as far as I know. ^_^

I’ve actually got to get that photo this weekend, while I’ve got some free time. Tough clue, E. Did you know that building has its own ZIP code? For real.

And Smacky, thanks for the constipation jokes. Very funny.

And E, it's been a very long weekend indeed. Hanging out with friends, friends of friends, being really tired, and -- oh yeah -- packing some stuff to move or sell. Soooo ... photo forthcoming, hopefully. :-) Clever clue, by the way!

Side effects may include ...

I just got home from the doctor's office with a new prescription (okay, it's an anti-psychotic, which makes me a little bit sad -- is there something I need to know?) and one of those booklets with bright colors and patient information written on a 3rd-grade reading level.

This booklet is very pretty. It's yellow and blue. The front of it has a picture of a woman in a red dress staring into a pretty green field, with cloud-covered hills rising in the background.

... And that's about the extent of its usefulness. As with most patient booklets, it's pretty, but all it gives you is some basic information and a Top Ten list of side effects, leaving all the rest of the pertinent info to the clinical booklets with the magnifying-glass-worthy print.

In this case, the basic information wasn't very informative ("The exact way [this medicine] ... works is unknown"), and the side effects mostly included the usual -- nausea, vomiting, thoughts of giving up one's day job and joining the circus. But one of the common side effects got my attention:

The most common side effects ... were: an inner sense of restlessness or need to move (akathisia), constipation, and accidental injury.

I'm not quite sure how doctors pin accidental injury on a pill (I mean, it is an accident ...), but in any case, it's a perfect cover for my innate clumsiness. I run into things a lot. Doorways seem to be a favorite target, even ones I walk through every day.

So now I have a good excuse when my inner sense of restlessness causes me to do something dumb, such as run into a doorway and/or bump my head. It was the medicine, I swear!

Hosed!

Thursday’s Wall Street Journal featured an On Style article about pantyhose in the workplace. The article is titled “Bare-Legged Ladies: Hosiery Reveals Office Divide.” Story and video here.

The story describes the generational divide between hose-wearers (hosers?) and non-hose-wearers. Second graf: “For women who entered the work force before the 1990s, hose were considered as necessary as underwear. But many twentysomethings have never worn panty hose at all.”

I’m in my late 20s. I’ve worn hose. They blow.

The extent of pantyhose’s usefulness is to keep your legs warm in winter, and a more effective way to do that is just to wear pants. The rest of the year, hose serve one purpose: to annoy.

Don’t believe me? Try wearing them. Even you, boys. From mid-way through the article: “As for fairness, it's hard to say whether (neckties) or panty hose are more uncomfortable. One male reader of this newspaper, after making a bet with a female co-worker, attempted to discover the answer by secretly wearing panty hose under his business suit for several weeks. He claims ties are worse.”

Now, that’s self-sacrifice in the name of research. Too bad his findings were way off the mark.

I’ve heard the argument that pantyhose smooth the legs and make them look tan. True, until:

• They slip down
  
• They bunch up

... or ...

• They snag – the worst of all offenses, because everybody then knows you’re wearing hose and you have to shell out dough to buy another pair.

Also, they kind of lose their “I just tanned” efficacy when your legs are three shades darker than your face and hands.

I say we abolish pantyhose (hose the hose?) from workplace dress codes – heck, all dress codes – and keep them where they belong: Over the faces of bank robbers.

Testing the waters

Congrats to Paul, whose research professor and team were written up in the June issue of BusinessTN Magazine.

... University of Memphis chemist Gary Emmert is busy perfecting a device that you probably thought America's utilities have been using for years—a real-time, online monitor that tracks the levels of Trihalomethanes (THMs) and Haloacetic Acids (HAAs), both carcinogens that appear in drinking water as byproducts of chlorination. ... While patent on the device is pending, it is being licensed to a company in Texas, which anticipates a $300 million market among utilities in the United States and Canada alone.

Congrats, too, on the licensing deal. I'm so proud of my boy, I just might bump fists with him. :D

Rest of the brief article here.

On the "fist-bump of hope"

Paul and I bump fists all the time. What's so wrong with that? :-)

Slope dopes and phone groans

My Charleston cell is working out great … except I got my first wrong number call yesterday. My very first call on the phone, and it’s a wrong number.

For those who don’t read my Tweets (shame on you!), my phone number is the same as a popular ski resort. I guess I probably shouldn’t say any more than that or I’d be giving out my phone number and I don’t want any of you creeps tracking me down.

Ooh, did I say that out loud? My bad. Most of you aren’t creeps, I swear! You’re ... special! (Seriously, I love you guys.)

Anyway, my phone number spells out the name of a popular place to ski, and at least TWO resort-related companies use the same number with slightly different area codes from each other ... and both are just a slightly different area code from mine.

Having absolutely no faith in common sense, I’m readying myself to field a few calls from wayward skiers looking for a platinum-rated chalet with contemporary décor and spectacular views. (Yes, I’ve read their literature.) I’ve prepared a few replies for when the calls roll in.

• Yes, we do offer lessons, but in an effort to appeal to a younger generation, we have replaced our ski instructors with slope-friendly Wiis loaded with We Ski
  
  
• Our mountain rescue team is a little shorthanded this season, so we’re requiring all skiers bring their own Saint Bernard as a precaution. We do not recommend it, but it's also permissible to bring a team of Siberian huskies and a sled.
  

Or just:

• Why, yes, we do have room in our platinum-rated chalet with contemporary décor and spectacular views! Come on out … and don’t forget your Wii balance board and required canine!

It's not like I'm even going to be close to mountains or skis or chalets. I'm moving to a coastline where the average temperature in the coldest month, January, is a high of 57 and a low of 42. Apparently, the area gets minor snow accumulation once every five years, and there's a 1 in 3000 chance each winter day of seeing a big snow event.

And yet our lease agreement included a clause forbidding us from ice skating on the creek.

Not a problem for me. I've tried skiing and have come to the conclusion I couldn't do it to save my life. Guess I'll stick to hanging out in my sticky-warm living room in a Deep South coastal city, answering misdirected phone calls and playing We Ski.

On shedding the '80s to embrace the '90s

I spent a couple of hours last night lost in YouTube land, watching movies that remind me of my childhood ... and technically a few years after my childhood.

The goldmine was a three-part series titled "'90s kid! Remember?" that features title screens and character shots from popular '90s TV shows (links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3). I wasn't surprised that I knew most of the characters -- I'm a cartoon fiend -- but I was surprised that Paul could name almost all of them, too!

But here's my source of guilt: I was born in 1980, so I'm firmly planted in "Child of the Eighties" territory ... and presumably born at least an entire decade before the creator of the "'90s kid" videos. Ouch.

So I reasoned that if I was so in tune with the 1990s, I must be a freaking expert on '80s pop culture. So I looked up and watched a video called (appropriately) "Child of the '80s." I recognize most of the people and things in that montage, but frankly, I wasn't into the majority of them. Duran Duran has little appeal to a 4-year-old.

My apologies to the people I know who are very proud to be Children of the Eighties. I'm just not feeling it.

My barely-holds-water defense is that I'm a Millennial -- a member of GenY -- so I relate more to their culture than to the GenX culture. Truth be told, though, I just have a soft spot for early '90s shows such as Clarissa Explains it All" and "Salute Your Shorts." :-) Paul says I shouldn't feel bad because the shows were geared toward our age group anyway. Thanks, hon.

A lot of the intros for non-cartoon Nick shows are in this video:


... but it's missing one critical component:


"Beware of those man-eatin' jackrabbits and those killer cacti." Hee hee!

Talk about a song that gets stuck in your head. Ack.