Recipematcher.com -- another miracle of modern technology. This is what I needed all those years when I was single and had only a can of tomato sauce, orange marmalade, and garlic powder in my stores.
Since I used the Hedwig reference in yesterday's post title...
There's a ton of Korean Hedwig videos on You Tube... tried to get a Korean translation of Hedwig lyrics for the title, but all I could get is Hangungmal. Funnily enough, though, the following words/phrases do not have Hangungmal equivalents:
sideways grimace
Hamill
Farrah Fawcett
frizz
Aretha
misfits
molasses
waterpik
ermine
montage
grenade
unscrewin'
warps
One of my favorite books ever. Seven stories that I absolutely adore -- Henry Sugar and Lucky Break were my top two for years, the latter of which I even used for an oral interp in Jr High. Geared toward a slightly older (though still child) audience, it has some very painful stuff in it (The Swan in particular), but definitely holds up years later. Worth seeking out.
Part of me really wants to be on a reality program, mainly because of the deus ex machina properties they possess. Ugliest House on the Block redoes your landscaping, painting, etc. What Not To Wear gives you $5K in new clothes, plus new hair/makeup. Oprah's Big Give offers a chance to have your cake and eat it too. Amazing Race enables you to see the world, and possibly win $500K in the process. Clean Sweep will go through your house, get rid of your shit, and organize what you're allowed to keep. Biggest Loser is the best weight loss program going, witha chance to also win some kiznash on top of it.
I of course fear looking like an asshole in front of America. A fat lazy asshole at that. It's like the people that clean house before the cleaning lady comes -- I feel like I'd need some self-improvement before the self-improvement.
That and I HATE Carmindy.
Part of the bittersweet joy of being laid up is watching a lot of TV. Or in my case, sleeping to a lot of TV. I have become extremely adept at this -- a skill honed on airplanes. Plug in my headphones, select a film on my iPod that I don't need to see to "watch" (like CLUE), and fall asleep to the comforting sounds. Better than a white noise machine.
Problem is, you can (even in this day and age) run out of things to watch. There's several things I want to see now available on iTunes movie rentals, but many of them are films that both Gus and I want to see, so I don't want to spoil the fun by watching them first. I just sent back all my Blockbuster dvds. And I watched all of the films in my collection that are appropriate -- after all, when you're sick and want the freedom to drift off to guilt-free sleep, you don't want anything too dramatic, or suspenseful, or even subtitled. You want easy and engaging.
Hulu.com oddly has a few movies available, most of which I've either seen or don't want to see. It does, however, have SIDEWAYS, and since I am one of the few artsy-fartsy film lovers that never saw this gem, I figured it was my big chance. Took two watchings (drifted off in the middle of the double date dinner), but enjoyed it quite a bit. And then, in my desperation, I pulled AMERICAN SPLENDOR out of my personal dvd collection, figuring I'd go for a Paul Giamatti double feature.
To clarify: I won my copy of this DVD in 2004, and it's sat in my collection since. Not sure why I did not watch it before now -- there were always other things I wanted to watch more, or it seemed like not the right movie for the moment. I'm a dumb ass. This movie is amazing -- the construct of it alone is fantastic. The casting is so perfect -- even Hope Davis, whom I love to be annoyed by, was 100% the right choice. And although I saw Judah Friedlander's name in the opening credits, it took all the way til the special features to figure out who he played -- who knew he was so good of an actor?!
The special features also gave me a glimpse of Roger Ebert. Not sure if he's had his latest surgery yet, but I hope it successfully restores his voice. I had the privilege of seeing one of his special screenings as part of the Chicago International Film Festival a couple of years ago, and then again this past October saw his appearance at the tribute to him at the opening night of the film fest (KITE RUNNER). Amazing to see two such different Eberts. And I have taken since to reading his reviews in the Friday paper. Such a brilliant man -- we (and certainly he) are fortunate that he is able to continue sharing his brilliance with us in the written word, regardless of the outcome, but again, my thoughts are with him.
Now, let me finish my dinner (take out), so I can sleep to How To Look Good Naked. That Carson Kressley -- who knew he wasn't just a gay minstrel, but rather is the feel-good hit of the winter?
First day back at work. Sucked. Body not happy to be up that much. 24 voicemail messages. And my left ear is my phone ear. But I still have my sense of humor! Nertz. Back in blessed bed now. Would that I could convince people it's a political protest of some sort.
Several bloggers are doing the Hulu.com thing, and i jumped on the bandwagon -- lemme tell you, it saved my ASS with this injury of mine. Five days of being stuck flat on your back SUCKS, don't let anyone tell you different. Being able to tune in to Hulu and watch tv on the bedroom monitor? PRICELESS.
Sitting in my Dr office waiting room, for a work-you-in appt. I want to scream or cry. At least if I were waiting at home I'd be laying down and have an ice pack on my neck. Here I have nothing but waiting. Every time I breathe it stabs with pain. I can deal with a lot, but in moments like these, if it were "cake or death" I'd take death. Makes me wish life were like a soap opera - this is when I'd go into a coma and wake up as a different actress.
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless handheld.
So today I went back to work, but when the sun started streaming in my window, the combination of that and the pain in my head/neck made me want to throw up. I am not one to normally be prone to nausea, so although I'm not one of those weirdos that will do ANYTHING to keep from throwing up, I am still a bit alarmed when I feel like vomiting and there's not a good reason (or quantity of food/booze) to explain it.
To compensate, I opened the window, letting a little 21-degree air in -- that plus a little ice water helped stave off the nausea, but it made my office SO COLD that I could only keep the window open for a short while. Then close it and get nauseated again, then open it and freeze, etc and so forth. Hey, you don't think this continually-changing temp thing could be making me sick in any way, do you?
People kept coming in asking "Aren't you cold?" and "Why is it freezing in here?" -- each time, I had to explain why, and really did not want to. Something about saying the words makes it real. No likey. Finally at about 3pm I could not stand it anymore and left. I should have frankly left prior to that, but did not want to look like a slacker. [Yes, I am this dumb]
The cab ride home was touch and go. Every bump and shimmy in the road went right through my skull. I had to start long hard breaths to keep from vomiting or passing out. I came upstairs and fell into bed -- luckily the house was cold, so I felt better (if not well) fairly rapidly.
Am getting worried that I'm going to have to go to the hospital for this thing, given that this is day three. How many days does one go on with something like this before you need a shot of something?
...the pain in my neck, that is. And SPEAKING of pains in the neck, about my husband. [Insert rimshot here]
No, actually, not only am I incredibly grateful for Gus, and not only was he very sweet for my birthday weekend, doting on me and whatnot, but he's the kind of guy you can buy knives. That is, he's the kind of guy you can buy knives and not worry that some day he's going to chase you around the house with them. Which doesn't seem like something you'd have to be worried about, but...
PRO: Awesome free massage at my local spa on my birthday, by awesome masseuse Jenny. Very pleasant, a little new agey but in a non-threatening way, and did an excellent job on me.
CON: My head/neck now hurts like a motherfucker. Left side, base of skull, occipital nerve-y. Need drugs. Have any drugs? Send me drugs.*
* Dear FCC or whomever: If it is illegal to say things like "Send me drugs" online, then please just chalk this all up to some funny blog humor. No one reads this anyway, much less has the mode, power, or inclination to send me drugs. If it'd make you feel better, I can post a picture of me in my "Just Say No" tee shirt. Assuming I can get it on because of my pain pain PAIN.
Today it was cab #5249. I was immediately struck by how clean the cab was, and the lack of center divider. I got in, gave my destination, and away we went.
"So, you're off on Monday?"
This is the kind of random cab driver question that creeps me out. I never know whether to tell the truth ("yes") or to lie ("no, they're expecting me back in an hour, so don't try to dismember me and bury my corpse in a shallow grave out by the forest preserve"). In this case I weighed his race (indeterminate Asian*), his demeanor (pleasant, genuine) and his radio selection (Esquivel on the true oldies station) against any potential danger, and opted for the truth.
"No one will be downtown on Monday... no one needs cab."
Okay, now we're getting into another potential weird area: Discussing his potential lack of business. When cabbies launch into lines of conversation such as this and/or issues of personal hardship, I can never tell if this is innocuous small talk, or if this is a ploy to garner a bigger tip. I usually close off at this point, and this was no exception. My hamartia? When not able to choose well, choosing inertia.
Digression: In the "Passengers Bill of Rights" lies the statement There is no extra charge to pay by credit card or for assistance with your baggage. "Kindly asian driver, would you assist me? I have daddy issues, trust issues, low self esteem**, and did I mention my hamartia?"
Eventually, Esquivel gave way to "Little Deuce Coupe" and the conversation sprung up again: This time about the weather (five degrees is COLD), and local cable/internet/phone providers (RCN rules). As we pull up to by building, I pay the man (exact change, tipping him well) and thank him.
"Have a good day! Don't forget about Hillary! Vote... woman..."
I don't hear the rest (I try not to listen) as I pile out of the cab. The presumption pissed me off, and I stomped up my front steps muttering "I'm not voting for Hillary! Not unless I have to."
Cab #5249, ladies and gentlemen.
* I apologize for not knowing what his exact ethnicity was. Not only did I never see him full-face, but I am admittedly bad with knowing the differing facial characteristics of most Asian cultures. Besides, my bigger point here was that most serial killers are white males, not Asian. So suck it.
** While working at a mental health center, I spotted on an intake form "I hope to gain some self of steam." Best. Ever.
Dear Sephora clerk:
Perhaps if you stopped chatting on the phone long enough to properly serve me, I would have been more pleased with my shopping experience. Not that you asked.
Miss you!
~ K
One of my current pet peeves is misplaced apostrophes -- drives me nuts. It's most upsetting when I see that I've done it myself, but I was born in the '70s for X sake, and I'm allowed to boof it every once in a while. Gimme a break, Nell Carter -- I'll be 38 in a few days. However, when people older and wiser than I repeatedly misuse apostrophes, I want to smack them.
Notes:
1) Apostrophes are not used to pluralize words. It's not DJ's, gym's, the 70's, or Little Shop of Horror's. It's DJs, gyms, the '70s, and Little Shop of Horrors. It should only be used for pluralization on plural nouns: children's books, women's shoes, people's court.
2) Apostrophes show posession: Mother's milk, Jessie's Girl, and The Emperor's New Clothes. In example #1, the misplaced apostrophes imply that someone named Horror owns a Little Shop. THE EXCEPTION: Possessive pronouns. I-T-apostrophe-S does not mean "belonging to it" but rather "it is." Why? Because...
3) Apostrophes are used for contractions and omitted letters. So far I have used I've, I'll, I'm and It's. Don't you, won't you, can't you, aren't you? Shouldn't the gov't care who you'll vote for?
I don't know why this bugs me so much lately, but it does. By contrast, others are bugged by improper use of quotation marks. Sounds like we needed The Electric Company to record a follow-up single...
I hereby nominate Rita Moreno for President of the United States.
I am not sure if Ms Moreno wants the job, but she's IMHO a better candidate for First Female President than Hillary Clinton. Sure, Hillary would be the first female, the first spouse of a former president, blah blah blah, but is that reason enough to vote her in? I would love, as a woman and a Democrat, to be able to say that She's The One. But I don't think she is. I think she would do a fine job, but I think Obama would be better. I do not think setting records is the right reason to vote a candidate into office -- if it is, then again I duly nominate Rita Moreno.
10 unique reasons to vote for Rita Moreno as the 44th POTUS:
1) Latina
2) Woman
3) Tony-winner
4) Oscar-winner
5) Grammy-winner
6) Emmy-winner
7) Winner of the Sarah Siddons award for her work in Chicago theatre
8) California Hall Of Fame recipient
9) Star on the Hollywood Walk Of Fame
10) Jeff-award winner
Think she'd be too soft? How about this?
Think she'd be too hard? How about this?
Oh, and for her running mate I nominate Morgan "Easy Reader" Freeman.
This can't be worse than Bush.
Never buy or hang this poster, unless you're a walking cliche of a 1990s college student. Set dressers, please do not use this poster any longer to represent dorm room art. Can we please, as a country, wait til 2012 to use this as poster art? It can be part of the next election. Instead of the New Deal, we'll call it the New Irony.
Is there a name or diagnosis for repeatedly not knowing what day of the week it is? Not losing time per se, but that weird "today felt like Thursday all day to me" thing. For me, today is Saturday. And in a few minutes, it technically will be.
Title is from today's lost classic, so beautiful... Thanks, Zach Braff...
So there's an xmas from when I was like 10 or 11 that will go down in infamy as "The Very Garfield Xmas." I was, admittedly, amused by the comic strip -- it was not a page-turner or anything, I did not rip newspapers out of people's hands to see what Jon was up to today, but yeah, I read it. I think I owned a couple of the books. This, to my mom, equals me LOOOOOVING Garfield, and so that xmas I got Garfield books, Garfield bedsheets, Garfield books, Garfield mukluks... okay, I made that last one up, but the level of Garfieldification of that year's holiday festivities was out. of. control. It also taught me an important lesson: Don't ever casually mention "like" of any object or concept in front of my mother.
Over the years, this theory was proved out with various boyfriends (like the puppeteer that only got puppet-themed gifts) and with my own interests (such as my theatre degree, which finally resulted in a moratorium on all comedy & tragedy masks). Gus now has the cool side of my mother's myopia -- he likes to cook, so she buys him gadgets and expensive knives. I still get a well-intentioned hodge-podge of things that luckily have no recurring theme, other than perhaps the color black (always a safe clothing bet for me) or silver jewelry.
What amuses me is that now, in a mix of payback and stymification, I buy her exclusively dachshund-themed gifts. She loves dachshunds, so it's apt, but she also needs nothing, owns everything, and does not like candy or burn candles (candy and candles being my Safe Gifts for the person who has everything -- disposable items that won't add to the clutter). I draw the line at dachshund-flavored crap (tees with "I heart my weiner" on them, or doxie-shaped salt and pepper shakers), but she's definitely reached the point of trying to tell me "enough already." Problem is that she has not identified another acceptable replacement gift, so it's either more dachshunds or nada. And nada is not allowed.
Problem is, I am now developing my own fascination with them, since I am always on the lookout for doxie-themed gifts. Which has lead me to the Daily Dachshund website, and to the priceless treasure below. Word to the wise: wait for it.
Stuck with a loathesome cold since Sunday/Monday -- left sinus blocked, left ear blocked, sometimes also popping in my right ear. No real cough, nothing weird about my sinuses that lead me to believe that I have an infection as of yet, but it SUCKS. Especially when I have no energy, or when people talk to me and I can't hear them.
Have you ever been asked if you'd rather be blind or deaf? It's one of those "What if?" questions kids ask one another... I still don't know the answer to that question definitively. I suspect I'd rather be deaf, but I've had experiences with (mercifully) temporary hearing loss, and it was immensely frustrating. As much as I love to read and watch movies, I have to think sight would be the bigger loss for me, but my love of music would be the toughest part of deafness. I also have to think that loss of hearing would still leave you more able in the world than loss of sight.
Guess maybe I should have stuck with ASL classes when I took them, in case this cold takes a turn for the worse. Am suspecting that being able to finger-spell and sign the colors blue and green will be insufficient.
Messing with the layout of the blog... not 100% happy with it yet, but will keep working on it. Oh, and Kat Von Dee is not pregnant -- she was just keeeeding.
The sweet little stray we took in this past August died this morning. Having four cats already (!!?!), I suggested we call her "Bonus." I miss her so much already. She was tiny and old and sick, but we loved her and took good care of her, and made sure that the last few months of her life were happy ones. RIP, sweet girl.
...with blue cheese stuffed olives, please. The more the merrier. Actually, best was the time I was poured a very dirty Belvedere martini with four blue cheese stuffed olives, and handed a plate on the side with two more skewers-ful of blue cheese stuffed olives. Having said that, I am nonetheless very grateful for the three Grey Goose dirty martinis I had tonight, with three large hand-stuffed olives each... Yum!
Is it my imagingation, or is commercial music getting better? Music in commercials, that is. I'd like to think that it's a by-product of people with hipper tastes getting old/powerful enough to hold key positions at major ad firms. Versus it just being that I am getting old, and that they're selecting music for said spots to appeal to my demographic, whatever it may be.
To be clear, I'm not talking about things like the crap-ass re-recording of Three Dog Night's "Joy To The World" (Glade), or even the inescapable Pantene onslaught of Natasha Bedinfield's "Unwritten." I find the latter particularly sad, since "These Words" has actually been a favorite of mine since before the US release of same.
Some recent tunes that clicked with me (more so than the product they're pimping):
1) PAS/CAL: "Wake Up Wake Up Wake Up" (Payless Shoes)
Pas/Cal hails from Detroit ("Day-TWAH"), and has a wonderful poppy Beach-Boys-for-today's-America sort of sound that I'm digging on. Eff the shoes they're trying to sell. As what's been referred to as "indie-pop's least prolific band" they're allowed to have sold out twice (2002 for Saturn) in just three EPs when they sound as good as this. Looks like they have their frosh LP slated for Feb 2008 on the Le Grand Magistery label, titled I Was Raised on Matthew, Mark, Luke & Laura. Delightful. I'll buy it, just like I iTuned all three EPs after hearing them on the Payless spots. Whoever made that deal happen for you, boys (and lady), it's working.
2) LANDON PIGG: "Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop" (A Diamond Is Forever)
Firstly, what's not to love about a mug like that and a name like 'landon pigg' on a boy whose mom still cuts his hair?!? Ridiculous. This song is so delightfully plaintive that I had to pick it up -- it's finally available as a single. Album pending, allegedly. Looks like RCA is is label -- not bad. Diamonds, schmiamonds.
3) DEVO: "Watch Us Work It" (Dell)
Yes I know this is the cover for 1980's Freedom Of Choice LP, but not only is it one of my favorite albums ever, but the band is historically underrated. Check out their wikipedia entry if you disbelieve. Frontman Mark Mothersbaugh is also a god, having composed music for most (all?) of Wes Anderson's films, being a minister for the Church of the SubGenius, and having selected A Face In The Crowd as one of his films when acting as guest programmer on Turner Classic Movies. "Watch Us Work It" capitalizes on the current '80s nostalgia, while proving that DEVO still rocks, even today. Bought the single; own an HP.
Honorable mentions (songs that swept me up, but risk becoming "you know, that one song from that _____ commercial?"):
CSS: "Music is my Hot Hot Sex" (iPhone)
Sara Bareilles: "Love Song" (Rhapsody)
Feist: "1234" (iPod)
Flaming Lips: "The W.A.N.D" (Dell)
If it makes you feel any better, I am also watching this right now...
A friend of mine recently posted in her blog that she has the interests of an 11 year old girl, despite being 35. I feel her pain. Not all the time, mind you, but right now more than usual...
Yeah. I'm rocking Felicity season one right now. Slightly embarrassed about it, but rocking it nonetheless. Season one aired in 1998-1999, and is so far holding up surprisingly well. Ian Gomez' Javier is still surprisingly endearing and humane for being a gay stereotype, Ben is still hot but dumb, Noel is still geek-hot, and perennial JJ Abrams fixture Greg Grunberg is still delightfully misguided. And, personal note to Keri Russell: I liked the season 2 short hair. I mean now you've found someone to give you a good blowout, so you're working that look, but the shortie breakup cut was cute, and fit Ms Porter's character arc.
I think I just threw up in my mouth a little with that last bit.
This cover box cracks me up, though. Noel seems to be looking into Felicity's right ear with a sense of quiet strength. Ben seems pleasant but distant -- I'm choosing to imagine he's thinking about how awesome his hair turned out that day. And the mini-Felicity up left is sneaking up on the group, perhaps to mug them. It is New York after all.
...it's the second day of the year, and I'm already exhausted. Bwah. 2008, you cruel mistress.
Happy New Year... I'm hot! Or a bisexual activist...
Actually, since my last post was about "fish tacos" maybe I should have played the 'child star' card instead...
Went to an acupuncturist for the first time today -- fun! A little scary -- laughingly, though, I am more scared in these situations because I think I should be than because I actually am. Rationally I know that acupuncture is an ancient science, and dates back to the stone age, so I don't sweat it -- emotionally, I know that a goodly number of people (friends and family included) would be terrified by this and would never dream of having this done, so I get scared on their behalf. Osmotic fear? Borrowing trouble? Peer pressure? You decide.
It was relatively painless (proverbially and practically). First she asked me a variety of questions, not only about my reasons for seeking treatment (back/shoulder/neck pain and headaches) but about my general health (quality of sleep, breathing, and yes... bowel movements). We then moved on to the actual process. While I did have to unbutton my shorts and my tshirt was pulled up to my chest, I lay otherwise fully clothed, face-up on a massage table. After cleansing the target areas, she inserted a total of about 11-13 single-use needles all over my body. I had about 3 in each foot (top of foot), one in my lower abdomen, two just beneath my bra-line, one in my cleavage, one on either side of the base of my skull (behind the ears), and one or two in each wrist.
The needles are so fine (not hollow), many of them I did not even feel go in. Some I did, and only one hurt going in. Once they were all in, though, I really could not feel them -- I could feel something, mind you, and there's something odd psychologically about knowing you should not move because NEEDLES are in you, but otherwise it was a cake walk. I was left alone for a total of 15 minutes -- of the music options given me, I selected a massage tape (innocuous new-agey instrumental stuff), and did Lympatic Breathing* while I lay there. It was very relaxing overall, and I did get some almost instant headache relief.
Gus, being attended to by his harem.
Or, in a less Oedipal caption: My mother, my husband, Me and my aunt Maria.
Hilarious. More wedding pix to come!
So, a few quick links for the foodies...
Grub Hub is a quick (and best of all FREE) way to order online and centrally from a bunch of local restaurants. You can also sort by cuisine, who's delivering now, etc.
Ghetto Gourmet is a traveling dinner party and underground dining experience. Sign up for their mailing list -- when they come to your town, you order a ticket online (they show you the menu up front). They'll email you a few days before with the exact location, and you show up with a floor cushion and a bottle of whatever. Am doing this on the 4th, so will report in after.
Yelp is also a neat place to get reviews of local places -- it hasn't yet become too commercial, with corporate posts and whatnot.
Enjoy!
I must highly endorse this... so much fun!
Gus and I were lucky enough to do the March one -- a nice treat/date night out in the middle of all the wedding craziness. It's a total steal at $35 per person -- a five course meal, with wine pairings for each, and they are not stingy about refilling your glass.
Let me know if you want to go!!!
Did I mention I was a suck-ass blogger? Yeah... no posts since January?!? Okay, so fine, I got all married and shit -- like THAT'S a good excuse? :)
"Anything else? ...Anything else? ...Anything else?"
Maybe it's just a city phenomenon, but why do delivery order-takers these days only say "Anything else?" -- more accurately, why do they say it after the first item!?!?? WTF! Really?!? Do you really think all I'm ordering is that edamame? Perhaps if you quit cutting me off to say "Anything else?" you would HEAR me order the next item, Scooter. You're so far behind, you think you're first.
Yesterday, I was compelled to create a series of five self portraits:
Although I'm almost unrecognizable in brushed stainless, there's a fun Shroud-Of-Streeterville vibe about it, IMHO.
For "Four" I'm reflected in my snow-salt-stained car window. Look closely and you can see the crap. No, the crap is not the yeti in the puffy coat... that would be me. This is one of those perspective shots I love: Me, The Car Window, and Inside the Car.
"Five" -- all smiles. Me, Reflection of Me, Mirror, Inside Car, Outside of Car. Mwaaah!
A week ago Saturday, I went to see the Buffy Sing-Along. Me and about 700 of my closest friends. It was cold as tits that night, and apparently Buffy geeks love to drive, because there was no parking for blocks around the Music Box. After hauling my ass over there, snagging the will-call tix, and locating my peeps in line, we waited.
Managing to score some pretty good seats in the rear house left, we then 'enjoyed' an hour of Pre-Show. Bleaagh. It was poorly executed and understaffed, so despite the best intentions of the creator/emcee, we were all more than a little annoyed and anxious for the episode to start. Once it did? Magical. People were working their best RHPS moves on it, and it was amusing to hear what comebacks people came up with. My one big score, comeback-wise, was in the scene [SPOILER ALERT] where Dawn lets it drop to the flower-charmed Tara that Willow and T had been fighting (duh). After Tara leaves and just before Dawn sings her little pre-abduction "Lament," Dawn walks over to her jewelry box and pulls out the amulet she stole, the one that made Sweet come to Sunnydale. Knowing this was about to go down, I waited til Dawn turned to go to the jewelry box and shouted "Go look at the shit you stole!" -- much to the delight of those in earshot. If this thing does indeed become another RHPS, and that becomes an official comeback, know that it was me, ME! Mwahahaha!
The best part of the show (and one of my favorite moments, musically), was "Standing" -- Giles' solo (with slo-mo Buffy). They had everyone pull out there lighters (or, like the kids do nowadays at the rock shows, their cell phones), and sway them back and forth like they were at a Journey concert. [NOTE: Yes, I am old, and for some reason, waving your lighter makes me think of Journey. Suck it.] I wish this image properly conveyed how damn cool it looked, but it was pretty bad ass.
When did I miss the revolution in lawn decorations? A flamingo? Sure. A sunflower that spins like a pinwheel? All right. A big inflatable snowman? Okaaaaaaaay, fine, whatevs. But this? It's like a miniature version of that inflatable house that the kids get in and jump around on and sweat like hell, only this one's filled with more inflatable shit (in this case, inflatable reindeer) on a turntable. That's right -- this was actually an action shot. There's some bizarre inflatable merry-go-round bullshit going on in there. Heaven help us.
I responded today to one of those ubiquitous "iPod Music Survey" things floating around -- little did I know I was going to inspire brilliance! Christopher, a MySpacer I went to HS with, read my bulletin and was inspired to write the short story below. I in turn wrote one of my own, which appears below Chris'.
* * * * *
The goal was to take the 21 songs in order on my IPod shuffle setting and write a short story using as few words as possible that weren't part of one of the titles.This is a really a practice in creativity that my daily life doesn't always allow, so I thought I would take the advantage of an idea and an inspiration to find more creativity in my daily life. I hope you enjoy and if you feel inspired to write your own story please do.Thanks Kathe for the inspiration.
I was standing outside the BRICK and BEAUTIFUL front of my OLD LOVERS HOUSE. In the window I saw her painting of the BUFFALO SOLDIER, SITTING IN LIMBO. I only wished she would TALK TO ME, but I was told she was on a CHINESE VACATION. I headed down to THE NEW TIMER for a drink and I met ANNA MAY. She offered me REFUGE and I thought she was the one to SAVE THE DAY. She was the one who told me ANDY, YOU'RE A STAR, and I knew this was not the end of my story.In case you were wondering I'VE FOUND A NEW BABY, her name is MARTHA. We met in the park and talked for hours and I knew, she is SOMEBODY I could really love. I walked her home and she invited me in BUT NOT TONIGHT because we both knew this was SPECIAL. So, HERE IT GOES AGAIN. I have found in her my REDEMPTION SONG. Today I stand outside her house, holding 99 RED BALLOONS with a note saying I had long WISHED FOR YOU.
(So, it's a little corny but hey the IPod wrote it. ~Christopher)
* * * * *
My story... still thinking of a title for it...
I had a mean case of TRIPLE STAGE DARKNESS bearing down on my skull. I needed to get out of this WICKED LITTLE TOWN, and fast.
She had skipped three months ago with Jimmy "The KARPET KING" Webster. Gave me THE ANSWERING MACHINE BIT, let me come home to empty hangers and a collection of dust bunnies where our dreams used to be. Hell, even they knew she was leaving before I did -- they hear her record my "Dear John" message. In the beginning, she used to MAKE ME SMILE so much she nicknamed me MONA LISA. She told me I was her forever, then she left so fast it was like she'd been shot out of a MACHINE GUN. And now I'd finally tracked her.
"A letter arrived for you SINCE YOU'VE BEEN GONE." The motel clerk handed me a manila envelope full of pictures. Pictures that would make your mother blush. Pictures featuring MR WEBSTER and my wife. This whole thing was beginning to COME TOGETHER, but I needed to be road and fast if I was going to make it stick. I mean I LOVE CONDOMS, but you can't make babies wearing them, and I wasn't going to make her pay til I shrugged off this joke of a town. It's like my mama used to say, "YOU CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT, but you can HURT those who hurt you first." So I was going to hurt her. I was going to hurt MY GIRL like she'd hurt me.
"HERE COMES THE RAIN AGAIN" I growled, as the drops began to spatter my rag top. I pulled THE PARKING TICKET from my windshield, and peeled away toward destiny.
Ten hours and two packs of Camels later, I pulled up outside the house. I could see her moving around inside. She was going to make an EXQUISITE CORPSE, and the best thing was that Webster was going to fry for it. While she was on that AIRLINE TO HEAVEN, the cops were going to find the life insurance policy he'd taken out. They were also going to find the murder weapon. I figured I'd plant it in his desk, piece of cake.
I focused on her silhouette there in the window. Shooting her was going to be the easy part. I'd been a SOLDIER BOY, after all -- dropped out in GRADE 9, and eventually enlisted. I'd been trained to shoot out a crow's eye from a hundred yards, and she was going to make a much cleaner target.
After three long months of absence, I finally felt the smile start to creep back across my lips. I was about to get my revenge... WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS Smith and Wesson.
This is exactly the kind of story my Noir-y car pix would fit -- just maybe they inspired the tone of this piece.
How long did I say it would take to stop blogging daily? D'oh!
I like this one (R) a lot. In my own little Isherwood fantasies, I would wish to be able to capture images from my POV, so that you had the multi-layered realities of Me, Inside the Car, The Windshield, and Outside The Car. The one below I call "Seuratt" (the extra T is for Traffic), because it looks so pointillist to me. Or impressionistic. Hmmm. Maybe I should retitle it. Or maybe I should calm down and quit being so freakin pretentious about my new hobby. Did I mention this is all courtesy of my new Pearl? Am loving it for the multifunctionality and portability 
alone. For anyone vetting the Pearl, this should also give you a half-assed idea of the picture quality you'll get. Not amazing intrinsically, but for what it is and what it cost, pretty Fing awesome, IMHO. Of course some Photographer (with a capital P, signifying that they actually know what they're doing) will probably laugh themselves silly when they stumble upon this blog. Ah well. I've been having a blast, and I love these pix.
So I already mentioned Project 365 here -- a cool concept, but not one that I think I am prepared to follow through on. Aside from things like honeymoons and whatnot this year, I just know there are days I'll not turn on the puter (rhymes with "cooter" not "butter") and miss perfection. Until that time, here's the 2nd. Wanted to take a pic of my eye, but instead of it coming out sexy or whatevs, it came out looking a lits creepy, IMHO. That was almost reason enough for a discard ("Ooh, 2nd day of the year and she's taking creepy self-portraits"), til I realized how much it looks like a still from a Brian DePalma movie. And I love me some Brian DePalma.
If you look out your plane window, and see labels on the wing, written in what appears to be Brother P-Touch, is that bad?
This one on the right says "Boost Pump" -- good to know. I wondered where I'd left that thing.
Conversely, the one to the left says "No Step Aft", and has a line that one can only assume you should not step aft of. All good, but if you were not supposed to, oh, step aft of a particular line on a 737 wing, wouldn't you want the label to be a skosh more permanent?
Seen at one of my local Mickey D's. What happened to quality control here, folks? Times must change, but standards must remain.
I was at BFE's holiday party Tuesday night -- the annual hilarity of the Grab Bag Gift Exchange was up to its usual high standards (with a room full of improvisers, it was every bit the bit-fest one would expect). I walked away with a $15 iTunes gift card, which I traded to get (the original recipient does not have an iPod, so I gave her my girly bath stuff that I received).
The problem is, I am not an Improviser. I am not a Company Member. I am the Wife of a Company Member (okay, the Fiancée of a Company Member) -- as such, I go to a fair amount of shows and events related to The Company, and have seen all of these people Perform. So I know all their names, and have zero clue which of them know mine, or even know why I am there. Under normal circumstances, I find it hard to not act overly familiar with them -- I've seen them a million times, but as Random Audience Member.
Not surprisingly, many of them are also bloggers. And I have been known on occasion to read said blogs, and have learned all kinds of personal information about them as a result. So now, what was an already weird moment for me (being overly familiar with them just because I saw them in a bunch of shows) has become a Super Weird Moment because of all the personal details I'm now privy to. I know their kids names, where their parents live, what they ate this week, that their uncle/cousin/cat/career is dying, and other esoteric info... and the desire to comment on it when I see the bloggers in question becomes overwhelming. I want to make Overt Reader statements ("I loved what you wrote about peanut butter sandwiches - it really spoke to me") and Processed Information statements ("If it helps, our vet put the cat on the Waltham SO dry food, and it really seems to help with the seizures"). Either way, I am afraid they're going to get weirded out by the fact that I read their blogs, which is either insane of me to think or insane of them to do. Insane of me because their blog is public, and why make it public if you don't want it read? Insane of them for, well, the same reason.
It's not just BFE's co-workers blogs, though -- I have friends with blogs, friends who know I read their blogs, and I still blanche when I catch myself starting a reference to something I've read there. Why? I think it's something like getting caught in a lie -- if I say "Miette is so cute" and the blogger in question all of a sudden thinks "Wait... I never told her about Miette" then I come off as a stalker (which I'm not) rather than an information whore (which I am).
I think the answer may be Gratiuitous Comments. From now on, I am going to write comments on every post of every blog I read. They'll probably be more of Type 2 than Type 1, but even if it's just me commenting "Werd" on each & every post, at least that way the blogger in question will know that I read their shit. And THEN the conversation we'll have will be less "Wait, how did she know about my boob itch?" and more "Hey there, Inanegirl McCommentsmuch... back off a lits. Just a skosh."
So we had our company's holiday luncheon Thursday the 14th -- traditionally, it takes place on a Thursday because the post-party is at Butch's, and many have a hard time making it in to work 
the next day. This is the ceiling of one of the rooms at Butch's -- I fell instantly in love with the place because of this ceiling. It reminds me of Indian restaurants in New York City, with all the lights and lanterns and crap? The first time I experienced same, I was delighted -- arriving at Butch's, I felt much the same way, despite the substitution of Xmas-y stuffed animals for the lanterns. It's a particularly fun choice for a bar, with the sense of play it creates. They tell me the lights are only seasonal, though, which makes me a little sad.
Last year was my first holiday luncheon, and I was feeling puny so bowed out before the post-party. This year I had to therefore help make up for lost time... and I would say I did. Feeling shockingly fine today, so either I drank the right combination of things (mostly Harp and Irish Car Bombs -- thanks, Juice), or just got lucky. Could just be that because I am an extremely lucid drunk, and am not prone to drunken sloppiness.
This brings to mind the recent conversations I have had about Corporate Policy -- I've read any number of news blurbs about people getting fired for blog content, and now when I read or write blog entries, I think "Is this sentence actionable?" It's effed, but it's true. So do I blog about this post-party? Do I blog about which co-workers fell down, or peed themselves, or made out in the basement (sorry, Ho-larm)? No. Because it would be wrong. Narf.
So I broke down tonight and bought the new Blackberry Pearl. Was tired of weird glitchy things with my old 7100T, most of which may be attributable to several recent droppings thereof -- one, awkwardly, during an already strained call with my mother, caused the device to hang for about 10 mins, and even then it would not allow me to call out for another 5. I'm sure she thought I had hung up on her, and am surprised she spoke with me at all when I finally got her on the phone.
The major perk is the long-awaited addition of a camera feature -- love it. Loving this device in general so far -- set-up was incredibly easy, and now it's just about tweaking things to get them the way I like them.
And now I can finally take part in Project 365 if I want. :)
Oooh, and notice the sad glow of the cast-off 7100T in the background... that thing is so going to murder me in my sleep. In the horror version movie of my life, that is -- every pic I take with Pearl will be fine and normal, but then when I look at the image, the 7100T is looming somewhere in the background, perhaps ever closer in each image. Spooky.
