Has anyone noticed the new theme in spam messages?
I was looking today because I thought something may have gotten sent to my spam folder on accident, and it seems that spammers have started cutting and pasting excerpts from literature BEFORE they begin to advertise how you too can be longer, stronger, and more manly, or you can buy Cialis legally off the internet.
Here are some choice phrases I've discovered today:
SUBJECT: My pearls and jewels.
CONTENT: His wrapper of scarlet flannel! link
SUBJECT: Cold and weary
CONTENT: When he reached the door
SUBJECT: HE kills you, he eats you
Why would I buy that product?
SUBJECT: Hey
CONTENT: bora rehear chatty rant! tubby welt. tote shrug. led shuck. bluffy whale a blush rehear! driven repent. suffix tinman iritis rehear! uneasy hodman chatty blimey?
SUBJECT: Where her ass is?
SUBJECT: In the middle of the woods
CONTENT: With the other frogs?
I realize most of these are not 'literature' at all. There was one with a full on book cut-and-paste job, but I deleted it before I realized 'hey, this is blog fodder!' DAMMIT.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
Stitching v. Reading: Round 1
I've been on a recent reading binge, pretty much to the exclusion of all else. "What did you say, husband? You've been feeling neglected, and are beginning to flounder in the pile of dirty laundry that's accumulated? I can't hear you, I'm reading the Orson Scott Card book you told me to read, and your head is buried in all the towels you've used in the last 2 weeks. Sorry."
I think I've read 6 books in the last 3 weeks, in addition to working full time and attempting to go to school, where they will assign me more books to read that I really don't want to, like "Native American Oral Literatures." That is not so engaging, I fear, as "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime."
In addition to this overwhelming urge to sequester myself in the very corner of the futon whilst yelling at Jesse to please turn down his play-by-play poker narrative, I've decided that I'd like to return to all my crafting glory. It hasn't really happened since we moved into this new place, in some large part due to the fact that what used to be my craft table is now where Jesse unloads his backpack every day after school, so that wood is no longer visible. At least in hardwood form. It is visible in paper form.
I decided, after perusing the pages of Mr. X Stitch, that I wanted to do a snarky stitch of my own, so I have begun. You will see the fruits of my labor after I wage war with myself what is more important: cleaning up after Jesse (and sometimes myself), reading the rest of BOTH "The Interview with the Vampire" and "The Kite Runner," or completing my slightly snarky, mostly silly cross-stitch sampler. Or starting a beaded bracelet I promised my friend I would do for him, for a small fee. Which he asked me to do like a month and a half ago, and I haven't even started creating the pattern for. DECISIONS.
P.S. While I was thinking about cross-stitching, it occurred to me that unlike normal children, I had the patience for this craft BEFORE I TURNED FOUR. I remember sitting down at my grandmother's house in Santa Barbara, begging my mom to please undo this knot I made so I could continue. I made a small pillow. How did I do that before I could read? I don't even know. I astonish myself with my youthful intelligence that somehow panned out into me making a lot of spreadsheets for a living.
I think I've read 6 books in the last 3 weeks, in addition to working full time and attempting to go to school, where they will assign me more books to read that I really don't want to, like "Native American Oral Literatures." That is not so engaging, I fear, as "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime."
In addition to this overwhelming urge to sequester myself in the very corner of the futon whilst yelling at Jesse to please turn down his play-by-play poker narrative, I've decided that I'd like to return to all my crafting glory. It hasn't really happened since we moved into this new place, in some large part due to the fact that what used to be my craft table is now where Jesse unloads his backpack every day after school, so that wood is no longer visible. At least in hardwood form. It is visible in paper form.
I decided, after perusing the pages of Mr. X Stitch, that I wanted to do a snarky stitch of my own, so I have begun. You will see the fruits of my labor after I wage war with myself what is more important: cleaning up after Jesse (and sometimes myself), reading the rest of BOTH "The Interview with the Vampire" and "The Kite Runner," or completing my slightly snarky, mostly silly cross-stitch sampler. Or starting a beaded bracelet I promised my friend I would do for him, for a small fee. Which he asked me to do like a month and a half ago, and I haven't even started creating the pattern for. DECISIONS.
P.S. While I was thinking about cross-stitching, it occurred to me that unlike normal children, I had the patience for this craft BEFORE I TURNED FOUR. I remember sitting down at my grandmother's house in Santa Barbara, begging my mom to please undo this knot I made so I could continue. I made a small pillow. How did I do that before I could read? I don't even know. I astonish myself with my youthful intelligence that somehow panned out into me making a lot of spreadsheets for a living.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Bad Style Choices
Working in the fashion industry and having plenty of time on my hands these days, I have assembled a collection of things you should definitely not wear, and should probably ridicule anyone who you see actually wearing who is not homeless:
1) Bra over T-Shirt, sold as one piece: Just, WHAT? There is a reason brassieres are in the UNDERwear category. They are worn UNDER your clothing. Not on top of a plain T-Shirt, sold elsewhere on the web site for $6.00, and then sold for $28.00. Not even homeless people are crazy enough to wear this.
2) We'll combine 2 in 1 here. Firstly, the Oops-I-Dropped-Bleach-ALL-Over-Myself wash, which I will tell you is going to be coming back soon (remember the 80's and how we have scorned the excess? Why would you want to wear something the whole world unanimously decided was a bad idea? WHY?) Secondly, the Oops-I-Cut-My-Cutoffs-Too-Short-And-Now-My-Pockets-Are-Hanging-Out shorts, which I can also tell you will be coming back next summer. Boo to the world. What are you thinking? Why are white trash fashion accidents becoming the new en vogue idea? This reminds me of Zoolander a little too much. Derelicte!
Note the peep-toe ankle booties. Like Hansel, they are so hot right now.
3) I have nothing to say about this. My snark does not cover.
4) Aaaanndd.... last but not least, let us not forget harem pants, shown here in overall form, which are ACTUALLY showing up in stores soon. Apparently, women want to look like they lost 400 pounds just off their thighs, but show off their shapely ankles as well. Such a conundrum before, but now that you can add 3 yards of fabric instead of skin, your style future is set!
Just a side note to the above WTF back to the eighties comment - American Apparel has resuscitated the whole hyper-color T-shirt phenomenon. Because that was also an awesome fashion choice in 1989.
1) Bra over T-Shirt, sold as one piece: Just, WHAT? There is a reason brassieres are in the UNDERwear category. They are worn UNDER your clothing. Not on top of a plain T-Shirt, sold elsewhere on the web site for $6.00, and then sold for $28.00. Not even homeless people are crazy enough to wear this.
2) We'll combine 2 in 1 here. Firstly, the Oops-I-Dropped-Bleach-ALL-Over-Myself wash, which I will tell you is going to be coming back soon (remember the 80's and how we have scorned the excess? Why would you want to wear something the whole world unanimously decided was a bad idea? WHY?) Secondly, the Oops-I-Cut-My-Cutoffs-Too-Short-And-Now-My-Pockets-Are-Hanging-Out shorts, which I can also tell you will be coming back next summer. Boo to the world. What are you thinking? Why are white trash fashion accidents becoming the new en vogue idea? This reminds me of Zoolander a little too much. Derelicte!
Note the peep-toe ankle booties. Like Hansel, they are so hot right now.
3) I have nothing to say about this. My snark does not cover.
4) Aaaanndd.... last but not least, let us not forget harem pants, shown here in overall form, which are ACTUALLY showing up in stores soon. Apparently, women want to look like they lost 400 pounds just off their thighs, but show off their shapely ankles as well. Such a conundrum before, but now that you can add 3 yards of fabric instead of skin, your style future is set!
Just a side note to the above WTF back to the eighties comment - American Apparel has resuscitated the whole hyper-color T-shirt phenomenon. Because that was also an awesome fashion choice in 1989.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Captain's Log
Sometimes I wish I just logged my life, so that in the future I could look back and remember all the tiny things that happen that I know I'll forget. Like the slightly crazy woman near me at work who tends to talk to her computer for most of the day and occasionally has outbursts of maniacal laughter at statements those of us around her make that are not intended to be funny. Also, she says "flabic" and "no ploblem", which are eternal sources of amusement for my sorry self.
Or the time Natalie, who is visiting this week, accidentally visited us for a whole week last year when the girl she was coming to LA to visit decided to fly to Guam on a whim and get married, forgetting that she was supposed to pick Natalie up from the airport. That was a fun week, except for the Guam girl, who is now getting divorced, I'm betting because it's not a good idea to go to Guam on a whim. I cannot speak about getting married on a whim, because I was only engaged for about 20 hours.
I suppose I could write in a diary, because, you know, that's what diaries are for. I used to - now I forget that I have time to do that, because I'm too busy checking my facebook and playing internet tetris. As I think about that, as I blog along, I suppose that facebook status updates are basically just that - a day by day log of all the mundane things you do during the day that you don't want to forget, and you dont' want anyone else to forget either. I should remember to update people on the fact that nearby coworker just cursed dentists to eternal hell for their rates, in her tiny little asian voice in a tiny little asian frame. Except she's my facebook friend, so she'd see.
Or the time Natalie, who is visiting this week, accidentally visited us for a whole week last year when the girl she was coming to LA to visit decided to fly to Guam on a whim and get married, forgetting that she was supposed to pick Natalie up from the airport. That was a fun week, except for the Guam girl, who is now getting divorced, I'm betting because it's not a good idea to go to Guam on a whim. I cannot speak about getting married on a whim, because I was only engaged for about 20 hours.
I suppose I could write in a diary, because, you know, that's what diaries are for. I used to - now I forget that I have time to do that, because I'm too busy checking my facebook and playing internet tetris. As I think about that, as I blog along, I suppose that facebook status updates are basically just that - a day by day log of all the mundane things you do during the day that you don't want to forget, and you dont' want anyone else to forget either. I should remember to update people on the fact that nearby coworker just cursed dentists to eternal hell for their rates, in her tiny little asian voice in a tiny little asian frame. Except she's my facebook friend, so she'd see.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
smASH it!
On Tuesday, Jesse's new dentist asked him if he'd ever been hit in the mouth with a baseball bat or the like. Jesse said nope. The dentist said "Are you sure?", so Jesse reiterated no, so the dentist said "Yeah, I guess you'd remember something like that."
Though I'm sure that's not the word-for-word recap of the exchange, which was prolly more like "have you ever had an impact to your jaws?" or something even more clinical that Jesse embellished for the sake of a good story (I would have embellished it as bitter rival punch to the face), but regardless, this sorry day marks the end of my dreams of days of leisure.
I hadn't written about it much because no plans were certain, but I'd been planning on going back to school full time this semester, lazing about with relative ease while I mastered the language of English and the art of cooking food every night for my husband. I've even filled out the loan documents, gotten the government to waive my fees because I'm poor, and done EVERY requisite that I knew of (I have never done this for any college before). It starts Monday August 17th. And Jesse's non-baseball-batted mouth and our lack of dollars has dashed my dreams to the floor like so many broken bicuspids from a baseball bat.
Now that he needs over $2000 of dental work from not being hit in the face, it's just not quite feasible for me to go without insurance or income. Boo, to the max! I can't tell you how disappointing it is to have all your tentatively crafted plans crumble. I was so upset I cleaned out my car, which for anyone who's seen my car, means really upset.
I think I will still try to take a few classes at night - I only have 9 units / 2 classes left until I qualify to transfer to a university. Instead of getting easier, lounging around and prosing and cooking, I have added MORE work to my life. This is not what I signed up for. Pthooey.
Though I'm sure that's not the word-for-word recap of the exchange, which was prolly more like "have you ever had an impact to your jaws?" or something even more clinical that Jesse embellished for the sake of a good story (I would have embellished it as bitter rival punch to the face), but regardless, this sorry day marks the end of my dreams of days of leisure.
I hadn't written about it much because no plans were certain, but I'd been planning on going back to school full time this semester, lazing about with relative ease while I mastered the language of English and the art of cooking food every night for my husband. I've even filled out the loan documents, gotten the government to waive my fees because I'm poor, and done EVERY requisite that I knew of (I have never done this for any college before). It starts Monday August 17th. And Jesse's non-baseball-batted mouth and our lack of dollars has dashed my dreams to the floor like so many broken bicuspids from a baseball bat.
Now that he needs over $2000 of dental work from not being hit in the face, it's just not quite feasible for me to go without insurance or income. Boo, to the max! I can't tell you how disappointing it is to have all your tentatively crafted plans crumble. I was so upset I cleaned out my car, which for anyone who's seen my car, means really upset.
I think I will still try to take a few classes at night - I only have 9 units / 2 classes left until I qualify to transfer to a university. Instead of getting easier, lounging around and prosing and cooking, I have added MORE work to my life. This is not what I signed up for. Pthooey.
Friday, July 24, 2009
My Life! It is so hard.
I wrote a blog at the very beginning of... this blog, in which I described how much extra time I had at work to read fluffy magazines and gorge myself on useless information on what is in/out, and how to be thin if only I had time (**note: reading magazines is a valid excuse for not exercising), and other such inane, highly colorized and photoshopped shmaltz.
Since then, I have been promoted. NOW, I can read WEBCOMICS. Because it's more obvious if I have US Weekly stolen furtively from the lobby sitting in front of my keyboard, even if it's covered by a fancy-looking spreadsheet that I created for just such a purpose. I have given up on reading these magazines at work. Now I merely roll them up and sneak them home so that I can read them in bed and think "I wish I had a pair of excessively short black shorts that I could wear over sheer black nylons with 4" ankle boots and a see-through lace top. Why is my life so HARD?!" Then I roll over and continue eating bon-bons and lamenting my difficult, difficult life.
Seriously, though. I have had little enough to do over the last month that I have read the complete back archives of Questionable Content, and am working on the back logs of The Book of Biff. I have stalked every single one of you on facebook, added tons of friends from high school just to see what they've been up to, filed 6 month's worth of purchase orders, and read the leaked into to Midnight Sun. I've look up countless recipes that I'll prolly never make, pined after products on ebay that I'd feel too guilty to buy, and browsed nigh upon every list on oddee.com.
I am so full of useless information, saved links, and complete bull right now that I almost feel bad. Not bad enough to stop doing it, but bad enough to go home early most days. So hard!
Since then, I have been promoted. NOW, I can read WEBCOMICS. Because it's more obvious if I have US Weekly stolen furtively from the lobby sitting in front of my keyboard, even if it's covered by a fancy-looking spreadsheet that I created for just such a purpose. I have given up on reading these magazines at work. Now I merely roll them up and sneak them home so that I can read them in bed and think "I wish I had a pair of excessively short black shorts that I could wear over sheer black nylons with 4" ankle boots and a see-through lace top. Why is my life so HARD?!" Then I roll over and continue eating bon-bons and lamenting my difficult, difficult life.
Seriously, though. I have had little enough to do over the last month that I have read the complete back archives of Questionable Content, and am working on the back logs of The Book of Biff. I have stalked every single one of you on facebook, added tons of friends from high school just to see what they've been up to, filed 6 month's worth of purchase orders, and read the leaked into to Midnight Sun. I've look up countless recipes that I'll prolly never make, pined after products on ebay that I'd feel too guilty to buy, and browsed nigh upon every list on oddee.com.
I am so full of useless information, saved links, and complete bull right now that I almost feel bad. Not bad enough to stop doing it, but bad enough to go home early most days. So hard!
Monday, July 13, 2009
Jesus Hates Page 712.
Apparently, Jesus has decided that tonight will be, as Jesse has aptly described it, "a big bucket of fail." Not that two things going wrong are infinite failure, but two things of such temporarily esteem-ruinous size are enough to beleaguer me into an evening of the melancholy sadness. SIGH.
Firstly, I was supposed to mail off a pair of jeans to a distant friend last week, but was seriously hampered by the hours of FedEx, the arrival of guests, and the swift departure to places north. In my semi-guilt, I went to FedEx tonight to overnight them to said friend, thinking they would arrive to him the day before he leaves town. I was wrong - they will arrive after his departure. So not only have I failed in my pants responsibilities, I have wasted AS MUCH MONEY AS THE PANTS COST on postage. This, in the times where Jesse and I are so tight on money that we can't go see movies, can't go out to eat, and can't go dancing. That postage was a week's worth of entry into dance events. I am very upset with myself for not checking BEFORE I mailed the damn pants. New rule: if you are going to purchase pants from me at an extreme discount, you have to pay the postage up front. It doesn't seem fair that I should pay to mail your jeans that I got for you at a discount. I hadn't thought much of it before, but now I am POOR.
Secondly, I have been avidly reading Gone With the Wind for a couple weeks, so avidly that I dream about Scarlett at night and think about what I would have done having been stuck in the middle of the civil war. (Answer: I would have died). So, in the aftermath of Federal Express sorrows, I decided to sit down with my newly beloved tome and spend the rest of the night. Until I came upon this paragraph: "Yes, he is my legal ward and I am responsible for him. He's in school in New Orleans. I go there frequently to see him. Bureau in a distant state had been highly lucrative at the expense of the ignorant blacks they were supposed to protect;"
WTF?
My copy of Gone With the Wind skips directly from page 712 to page 813 without a second thought for the poor girl who was just trying to lick her wounded pride from overpaying the Federal Express. Again with the upsetness. BAH! This leaves me with no choice but to write a blog whilst shaking my fist at the heavens and googling whether or not this has happened to anyone else and if I can get my money back. Stupid Scribner.
Firstly, I was supposed to mail off a pair of jeans to a distant friend last week, but was seriously hampered by the hours of FedEx, the arrival of guests, and the swift departure to places north. In my semi-guilt, I went to FedEx tonight to overnight them to said friend, thinking they would arrive to him the day before he leaves town. I was wrong - they will arrive after his departure. So not only have I failed in my pants responsibilities, I have wasted AS MUCH MONEY AS THE PANTS COST on postage. This, in the times where Jesse and I are so tight on money that we can't go see movies, can't go out to eat, and can't go dancing. That postage was a week's worth of entry into dance events. I am very upset with myself for not checking BEFORE I mailed the damn pants. New rule: if you are going to purchase pants from me at an extreme discount, you have to pay the postage up front. It doesn't seem fair that I should pay to mail your jeans that I got for you at a discount. I hadn't thought much of it before, but now I am POOR.
Secondly, I have been avidly reading Gone With the Wind for a couple weeks, so avidly that I dream about Scarlett at night and think about what I would have done having been stuck in the middle of the civil war. (Answer: I would have died). So, in the aftermath of Federal Express sorrows, I decided to sit down with my newly beloved tome and spend the rest of the night. Until I came upon this paragraph: "Yes, he is my legal ward and I am responsible for him. He's in school in New Orleans. I go there frequently to see him. Bureau in a distant state had been highly lucrative at the expense of the ignorant blacks they were supposed to protect;"
WTF?
My copy of Gone With the Wind skips directly from page 712 to page 813 without a second thought for the poor girl who was just trying to lick her wounded pride from overpaying the Federal Express. Again with the upsetness. BAH! This leaves me with no choice but to write a blog whilst shaking my fist at the heavens and googling whether or not this has happened to anyone else and if I can get my money back. Stupid Scribner.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Being Married makes you Unprepared
I was innocently doing my job the other day, walking things back and forth from my desk to the desk in Design wherein they belonged, when suddenly, out of the blue.... I was flirted with.
A tall, British-accented man made various comments that appeared innocently flirtatious. A girl should not be unprepared for this, especially one who doesn't wear her wedding, right?
Wrong.
I basically pulled a ninth-grade reaction to being partnered with a crushable boy in English class; blushed embarrassingly, giggled a little, and fled immediately.
Where is the sharp-tongued sassy girl that laughs in the face of comedic verbal sparring? Where is the used-needle sharp wit of a young woman who can banter at will with anyone, provided the subject matter stays above the belt and below the particle-physics plane? Not in that room that day. It was more like... "Nuuurrrrrr."
Pathetic.
It makes me feel better, though, that even in the whole day after the singular occurrence, I haven't yet thought of something that I could have said that would make me sound intelligent and yet simultaneously not be overbearingly and undermarriedly flirtatious in return. I usually kick myself afterwards for having thought of something too clever, too late. But this time, I suppose "Nuuurrrrr" will have to suffice, and hope that it won't happen so embarrassingly again.
A tall, British-accented man made various comments that appeared innocently flirtatious. A girl should not be unprepared for this, especially one who doesn't wear her wedding, right?
Wrong.
I basically pulled a ninth-grade reaction to being partnered with a crushable boy in English class; blushed embarrassingly, giggled a little, and fled immediately.
Where is the sharp-tongued sassy girl that laughs in the face of comedic verbal sparring? Where is the used-needle sharp wit of a young woman who can banter at will with anyone, provided the subject matter stays above the belt and below the particle-physics plane? Not in that room that day. It was more like... "Nuuurrrrrr."
Pathetic.
It makes me feel better, though, that even in the whole day after the singular occurrence, I haven't yet thought of something that I could have said that would make me sound intelligent and yet simultaneously not be overbearingly and undermarriedly flirtatious in return. I usually kick myself afterwards for having thought of something too clever, too late. But this time, I suppose "Nuuurrrrr" will have to suffice, and hope that it won't happen so embarrassingly again.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
On being an "Adult"
There is quite the racket going on in the neighbor's pool this afternoon, with the screeching and the splashing and the whooping... I don't mind in the least - it's the middle of a hot day after the fourth of July (i.e., the fifth of July). The interesting thing is that the various rackets are being made by people over the age of pubescence.. also which doesn't bother me.. but leads me to think. "What on earth do people do in swimming pools?" I mean, I hooted and hollered and screeched and splashed and turned brown like a nut every summer until I grew breasts. At which point I'd get in and be all... soooooooo.... what next? It's boring, I think, limiting yourself to a little variegated-depth kidney bean with no diving or running.
This (in addition to terrible swimsuit self-esteem) is the main reason why I haven't owned a swimsuit in over 4 years. I can understand having a swimsuit at the beach... there are waves there to contend with, and boys (if that's what you're aiming for), and sharks, to boot. You can swim faster without full regalia, though dudes in shorts swimming around tend to look less like seals than nearly-naked ladies.
Back to the folks next door... I wonder, really, where the line between post-pubescence and actual adulthood is drawn. Does splashing around in a small organ-shaped pool make you a child or an adult? What about if you have a beer in your hand? Does sitting in your apartment next door writing blogs about them make you a child, an adult, or a nosy geriatric?
How about going to Vegas with a nearly complete stranger? What does this make one?
Answer: Adventurous and/or an idiot. I feel in our case it was only the former.
Our adult behavior last weekend included spending most of the day Saturday cleaning our old apartment in Long Beach to get it prepared for the walking out, then rushing home to pack in 15 minutes and meet our young bank teller, escorted by his friends to make sure we're "not the rape-y type", and drive straight off to Las Vegas, to stay in a hotel room with his other stranger friend.
Does this make me juvenile?
Regardless, the trip was well worth the expenditure and effort that it took us to complete it. Our two stranger friends couldn't have been better Vegas partners. Like, not good enough friends for us to have to spend any time catching up on stuff or having expectations of behavior or feeling indebted to do things together, but still totally awesome enough to be the perfect source of energy for mad taxi rides, debaucherous behavior, and general good times. Additionally, it was the World Series of Poker, so I'm sure those of you who have seen Jesse's facebook posts know what kind of extreme glee this would bring him. Ridiculous kinds of glee. Giggles, even.
It was also Jesse's first time in Vegas - so overwhelmingly crazy. I'm not sure if you would figure this out in casual conversation with the man, but he and Las Vegas were built to meet each other. If he wasn't already married to me, he would probably marry the city and elope to a foreign continent where hookers are legal.. so Antarctica. I guess that wouldn't work. But you get the idea. Vegas+Jesse Smith=LURV.
This (in addition to terrible swimsuit self-esteem) is the main reason why I haven't owned a swimsuit in over 4 years. I can understand having a swimsuit at the beach... there are waves there to contend with, and boys (if that's what you're aiming for), and sharks, to boot. You can swim faster without full regalia, though dudes in shorts swimming around tend to look less like seals than nearly-naked ladies.
Back to the folks next door... I wonder, really, where the line between post-pubescence and actual adulthood is drawn. Does splashing around in a small organ-shaped pool make you a child or an adult? What about if you have a beer in your hand? Does sitting in your apartment next door writing blogs about them make you a child, an adult, or a nosy geriatric?
How about going to Vegas with a nearly complete stranger? What does this make one?
Answer: Adventurous and/or an idiot. I feel in our case it was only the former.
Our adult behavior last weekend included spending most of the day Saturday cleaning our old apartment in Long Beach to get it prepared for the walking out, then rushing home to pack in 15 minutes and meet our young bank teller, escorted by his friends to make sure we're "not the rape-y type", and drive straight off to Las Vegas, to stay in a hotel room with his other stranger friend.
Does this make me juvenile?
Regardless, the trip was well worth the expenditure and effort that it took us to complete it. Our two stranger friends couldn't have been better Vegas partners. Like, not good enough friends for us to have to spend any time catching up on stuff or having expectations of behavior or feeling indebted to do things together, but still totally awesome enough to be the perfect source of energy for mad taxi rides, debaucherous behavior, and general good times. Additionally, it was the World Series of Poker, so I'm sure those of you who have seen Jesse's facebook posts know what kind of extreme glee this would bring him. Ridiculous kinds of glee. Giggles, even.
It was also Jesse's first time in Vegas - so overwhelmingly crazy. I'm not sure if you would figure this out in casual conversation with the man, but he and Las Vegas were built to meet each other. If he wasn't already married to me, he would probably marry the city and elope to a foreign continent where hookers are legal.. so Antarctica. I guess that wouldn't work. But you get the idea. Vegas+Jesse Smith=LURV.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Internets Be Damned
I've spent my ENTIRE workday today looking at interesting, useless, and utterly not related to fabric or shipping list-type websites. I don't quite know how I got on this track, but it's been utterly engaging and I'm sure scores of co-workers have walked by me wondering what the crap I'm so absorbed with. Except that they can see because my walls are made of glass... so no mystery there.
This is my favorite of the day
Soo.. the internet is not particularly "working" at our apartment. You would think that this would make me more efficient in the home, having no facebooks to look at or random things to research. YOU WOULD BE WRONG. Instead, I sit futilely looking at the upper right-hand corner of my laptop, watching the swirling dots of the firefox waiting icon go round and round, hoping that there might be just enough of a jump in bandwidth to allow me to see if my financial aid records have been processed, or how long I should keep the chicken in the oven so as we don't get poisoned. It sometimes happens, but I've wasted SO much time just waiting and waiting and playing Freecell that I'm starting to get a little melancholy.
So I resolve that tonight, tonight I will not waste any more time on the spitefully malfunctioning internets than is absolutely necessary to ascertain correct directions to Molly Malone's to see my dear friend/hairdresser play in his band. I will spend time (if Jesse ever makes it to the bank to get quarters) doing the mad piles of laundry that have been just WAITING for quarters to get did. Maybe I will cook something. Maybe I will unload the dishwasher. Maybe I'll just read another chapter of Middlesex, - I didn't ever really stop to think that maybe the title of that book was actually a descriptive noun instead of a location, but it's good regardless. I will do SOMETHING besides be harnessed to that hypnotically rotating icon, telling me that maybe, just maybe, it will process my request. Firefox, you taunt me.
This is my favorite of the day
Soo.. the internet is not particularly "working" at our apartment. You would think that this would make me more efficient in the home, having no facebooks to look at or random things to research. YOU WOULD BE WRONG. Instead, I sit futilely looking at the upper right-hand corner of my laptop, watching the swirling dots of the firefox waiting icon go round and round, hoping that there might be just enough of a jump in bandwidth to allow me to see if my financial aid records have been processed, or how long I should keep the chicken in the oven so as we don't get poisoned. It sometimes happens, but I've wasted SO much time just waiting and waiting and playing Freecell that I'm starting to get a little melancholy.
So I resolve that tonight, tonight I will not waste any more time on the spitefully malfunctioning internets than is absolutely necessary to ascertain correct directions to Molly Malone's to see my dear friend/hairdresser play in his band. I will spend time (if Jesse ever makes it to the bank to get quarters) doing the mad piles of laundry that have been just WAITING for quarters to get did. Maybe I will cook something. Maybe I will unload the dishwasher. Maybe I'll just read another chapter of Middlesex, - I didn't ever really stop to think that maybe the title of that book was actually a descriptive noun instead of a location, but it's good regardless. I will do SOMETHING besides be harnessed to that hypnotically rotating icon, telling me that maybe, just maybe, it will process my request. Firefox, you taunt me.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Los Angelemma
Only in LA can you be sitting, minding your own business, chatting with your mom online, and then watch a sobbing stripper march barefoot in her underwear by your living room window with a leopard print bag larger than her body. Hm?
Also, the bumblebees here are larger than my big toe. No joke. I can't wrap my head around how they fly. It's like allowing a potato gnocchi to be suspended in flight by two parsley leaves. Unfeasible.
Obviously, all this is taking place while sitting on the couch in my living room, staring out the window at whatever passes by. Because I am become lazy, and have had guests for 3 weeks, and don't want to clean up my house, and am instead going to sit here. Watching strippers.
I have, however, - regardless of visitors, actually going out and dancing, eating out far too often for finances to allow... I have finished Jane Austen's Emma. Which took FOREVER, but I enjoyed it regardless. It was Long. Friends who saw me at do Something Blue on Friday night (none of whom know I have a blog, or prolly even a last name) would notice that I spent the entire time being slightly embittered about being at THE CLIMAX of the book, wherein love is finally being declared and understood, wherein everything exciting happens, whereas I was forced to put it down and leave to go dancing. BAH! I was frustrated at the hovering anticipation of lurv and happiness.
Also - I'm worried about being a potential English major for this single reason: having to analyze. I made ABSOLUTELY NO CONNECTION between the book Emma and the movie Clueless until I read the end "inspired by" notes. This lack of connection worries me. How could I miss that? I can't say that I ever would have figured it out, either. Clueless has never figured prominently in my life experience, but still ... they are the same thing. I feel like a remedial English student whose first language is Slavic, here.
Also, the bumblebees here are larger than my big toe. No joke. I can't wrap my head around how they fly. It's like allowing a potato gnocchi to be suspended in flight by two parsley leaves. Unfeasible.
Obviously, all this is taking place while sitting on the couch in my living room, staring out the window at whatever passes by. Because I am become lazy, and have had guests for 3 weeks, and don't want to clean up my house, and am instead going to sit here. Watching strippers.
I have, however, - regardless of visitors, actually going out and dancing, eating out far too often for finances to allow... I have finished Jane Austen's Emma. Which took FOREVER, but I enjoyed it regardless. It was Long. Friends who saw me at do Something Blue on Friday night (none of whom know I have a blog, or prolly even a last name) would notice that I spent the entire time being slightly embittered about being at THE CLIMAX of the book, wherein love is finally being declared and understood, wherein everything exciting happens, whereas I was forced to put it down and leave to go dancing. BAH! I was frustrated at the hovering anticipation of lurv and happiness.
Also - I'm worried about being a potential English major for this single reason: having to analyze. I made ABSOLUTELY NO CONNECTION between the book Emma and the movie Clueless until I read the end "inspired by" notes. This lack of connection worries me. How could I miss that? I can't say that I ever would have figured it out, either. Clueless has never figured prominently in my life experience, but still ... they are the same thing. I feel like a remedial English student whose first language is Slavic, here.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Boo ring
I feel as if I have nothing exciting to write about these days. I pretty much just go to work, dream of the day upon whence I become a trophy wife to a successful chiropractor, and join a scooter gang. Also create my own craft mafia. But dreams do not successful blog posts make.
We've had guest(s) for a few weeks now, which has seriously cramped my sit-and-home-and-think-about-stupid-things time, while actually engaging me in conversation and public appearances and exercise, none of which have resulted in any remotely humorous bloggable situations. I went to a fancy awesome bar in Los Angeles, where I had a drink. I went to Lindygroove, where I danced. I went to Disneyland - OH YEAH I WENT TO DISNEYLAND. I had forgotten. Apparently it did not embed itself in my memory as an oh-hot-damn moment. This is what happened at Disneyland: I MORE THAN DOUBLE JESSE'S SCORE ON THE BUZZ LIGHTYEAR RIDE. That is how much laser-gun ass I kick. DOUBLE. (boo-yah)
I was sick at home from work for an entire week (boring). I did chores and errands (ditto). I wished to never go back to work in order to stay at home all day and eat bon-bons. I tried sewing (as previously mentioned). Do you SEE how un-crazy this all is? Pssshh.
Although we did, however, venture all the way to Hollywood (60 miles!) in order to purchase $1.25 giant pick-you-own-flavor ice cream sandwiches at Diddy Riese, which was an adventure. I spent $5.00 of gas and like 4 hours just for a buck and a quarter ice cream sammich I could've made at home - but we had the EXPERIENCE of Diddy Riese under our belts. w00t! And of Hollywood. And of credit card parking meters. And iPhone GPS madness - I almost DIED in traffic. DEAD of cars.
We've had guest(s) for a few weeks now, which has seriously cramped my sit-and-home-and-think-about-stupid-things time, while actually engaging me in conversation and public appearances and exercise, none of which have resulted in any remotely humorous bloggable situations. I went to a fancy awesome bar in Los Angeles, where I had a drink. I went to Lindygroove, where I danced. I went to Disneyland - OH YEAH I WENT TO DISNEYLAND. I had forgotten. Apparently it did not embed itself in my memory as an oh-hot-damn moment. This is what happened at Disneyland: I MORE THAN DOUBLE JESSE'S SCORE ON THE BUZZ LIGHTYEAR RIDE. That is how much laser-gun ass I kick. DOUBLE. (boo-yah)
I was sick at home from work for an entire week (boring). I did chores and errands (ditto). I wished to never go back to work in order to stay at home all day and eat bon-bons. I tried sewing (as previously mentioned). Do you SEE how un-crazy this all is? Pssshh.
Although we did, however, venture all the way to Hollywood (60 miles!) in order to purchase $1.25 giant pick-you-own-flavor ice cream sandwiches at Diddy Riese, which was an adventure. I spent $5.00 of gas and like 4 hours just for a buck and a quarter ice cream sammich I could've made at home - but we had the EXPERIENCE of Diddy Riese under our belts. w00t! And of Hollywood. And of credit card parking meters. And iPhone GPS madness - I almost DIED in traffic. DEAD of cars.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Sew Not Good
Instead of going out to The Juke last night with Glen and Molly (and Jesse), I decided to stay home, not spread the disease that has plagued me for an ENTIRE WEEK, and attempt to sew.
**Note how I did not say "sew". Due to the fact that the product is already un-presentable, I will not really count it as a success. This is what I attempted (the one on the center left with the handles):
What eventuated was NOT anything really like that at all. BOO!
However - I am not discouraged. I learned valuable lessons in the process. I will try it again, and prolly fail again, at which point I might give up on that particular purse and try the one below it.
What this DOES mean, though, is I got my sewing machine back from the shop in fab'lous working order. Hoo-RAY! It was expensive, but my lil' (GIGANTIC) wonder machine now hums along like it did when my grandma started using it over thirty years ago (surely not! No one was alive then!) It also weighs 48 pounds. So I'll gain skill AND triceps. And maybe some of those bird-with-banner or heart-with-arrow tattoos that seem so prevalent with the "I'm a crafter" mafia set these days. I mean - if I want to be taken seriously as a crafter, I have to have the look, right?
**Note how I did not say "sew". Due to the fact that the product is already un-presentable, I will not really count it as a success. This is what I attempted (the one on the center left with the handles):
What eventuated was NOT anything really like that at all. BOO!
However - I am not discouraged. I learned valuable lessons in the process. I will try it again, and prolly fail again, at which point I might give up on that particular purse and try the one below it.
What this DOES mean, though, is I got my sewing machine back from the shop in fab'lous working order. Hoo-RAY! It was expensive, but my lil' (GIGANTIC) wonder machine now hums along like it did when my grandma started using it over thirty years ago (surely not! No one was alive then!) It also weighs 48 pounds. So I'll gain skill AND triceps. And maybe some of those bird-with-banner or heart-with-arrow tattoos that seem so prevalent with the "I'm a crafter" mafia set these days. I mean - if I want to be taken seriously as a crafter, I have to have the look, right?
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Hooker Rant
Why must every model in the American Apparel campaign look as if she is:
a) Malnourished
b) Barely Legal
c) About to have sex with the cameraman
d) Dressed very poorly
e) Give you the general feeling of unwittingly watching amateur porn
?
I absolutely hate being bombarded with American Apparel ads. As if seeing an eighteen year old girl wearing a swimsuit not even baywatch babes would dare to wear (you know, the kind where the V neck goes all the way to the belly button and the only thing covering her nipples sort of is the strap? The kind that they wore in 1980's workout videos OVER another leotard?... As if seeing THAT would make me want to buy scrunchies. I would never buy scrunchies (again), and now I ESPECIALLY won't buy them from American Apparel.
However, they do carry sparkly leggings for toddlers, which I think is TOTALLY appropriate.
But as for everything else. I dare you to look at the home page. It is (as of today) a girl wearing only sheer leggings, posing in 17 pages of various predatorial poses, full nip, NOT COOL. I do not support! **Note: I only went to the page to look for the above leggings! DON'T YOU POINT YOUR FINGER!
a) Malnourished
b) Barely Legal
c) About to have sex with the cameraman
d) Dressed very poorly
e) Give you the general feeling of unwittingly watching amateur porn
?
I absolutely hate being bombarded with American Apparel ads. As if seeing an eighteen year old girl wearing a swimsuit not even baywatch babes would dare to wear (you know, the kind where the V neck goes all the way to the belly button and the only thing covering her nipples sort of is the strap? The kind that they wore in 1980's workout videos OVER another leotard?... As if seeing THAT would make me want to buy scrunchies. I would never buy scrunchies (again), and now I ESPECIALLY won't buy them from American Apparel.
However, they do carry sparkly leggings for toddlers, which I think is TOTALLY appropriate.
But as for everything else. I dare you to look at the home page. It is (as of today) a girl wearing only sheer leggings, posing in 17 pages of various predatorial poses, full nip, NOT COOL. I do not support! **Note: I only went to the page to look for the above leggings! DON'T YOU POINT YOUR FINGER!
Monday, June 8, 2009
I am the Worst...
Hostess: We have had a PLETHORA of guests in the last couple weeks. (Would you say... a plethora of pinatas? I picked up Glen on Thursday two weeks ago, Molly arrived the next day, and Jesse's ENTIRE family arrived the following night. WHERE DID YOU KEEP THEM ALL?, you say, and I say I DID NOT. I forced our initial two "We were here first" guests to sleep outside on the porch (also known as Molly's brother's house in Pasadena) whilst I engaged to prove a worthy wife to the in-laws and pretend that Disneyland was always where I have dreamed of going. (Note, I have NEVER dreamed of going to Disneyland, but it was still pretty fun). I'm always worried, groundlessly, that the in-laws will leave with these words on their lips in the car: "Can you believe Jesse's wife (insert lacking here)?!" i.e. Didn't have the vanilla pudding mix to make this 10-day Amish Friendship Bread I randomly brought? .. Didn't have enough towels to cover SEVEN people so she had to go buy some? .. Killed an ENTIRE houseplant during our stay!?. I know they aren't thinking of or talking of these things, but I worry nonetheless.
Friend: While the famoo was here, sleeping and Disneying and generally just being around, my poor friends were relegating to the other happiest place on earth, Pasadena, to enjoy themselves and generally decide that actually, Pasadena is way better than my house and they were prolly going to stay. Molly was originally going to spend the summer with us, but she found work in Pasadena instead and will now only visit. AND I AM UPSET. MY PLANS ARE DISRUPTED. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LEAVE MY HOUSE WITHOUT MOLLY MAKING ME?????? Baaaaahhhhhhhh. At least we drove Glen all the way to West Hollywood just to eat a cookie. I think that a 60 mile drive for a $1.25 Diddy Riese cookie sandwich merits a friend token.
Worker: I'm seriously seriously seriously thinking about starting school up in the fall. I'm utterly useless at my job. Not utterly, but I want to be utterly useless. I don't want to work. I have lost my denim gumption. I am home today because I think I swallowed a golf ball with my neck, and I feel that they will do all right without me. Which leads me to believe that perhaps my time in premium denim is drawing to an end, and my time as a debt-ridden student should finally begin. I can't decide... this has been a FAB'LOUS job to have while Jesse goes to school - I have put food in our mouths and jeans on our butts, and gained some semi-valuable Microsoft Excel experience along the way, but really.... this job is preparing me for NOTHING. I'm going to visit an academic and a financial aid counselor in the upcoming days. We shall see the viability of this.
Daughter: I told my family I could go camping with them this summer, and now I can't because of training at work. HOW STUPID IS THAT?
Housewife: We have 2 weeks worth of dishes languishing in the kitchen because it turns out our brand new dishwasher can't actually clean anything. And I haven't done anything about it but stare at them. I feel slightly vindicated because none of them are mine but one saucepan and a fork, but it's kind of my job to do the dishes.... and I'm not. I need a new scrubber!
All in all... I still feel pretty good about myself anyway. Ha!
Friend: While the famoo was here, sleeping and Disneying and generally just being around, my poor friends were relegating to the other happiest place on earth, Pasadena, to enjoy themselves and generally decide that actually, Pasadena is way better than my house and they were prolly going to stay. Molly was originally going to spend the summer with us, but she found work in Pasadena instead and will now only visit. AND I AM UPSET. MY PLANS ARE DISRUPTED. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LEAVE MY HOUSE WITHOUT MOLLY MAKING ME?????? Baaaaahhhhhhhh. At least we drove Glen all the way to West Hollywood just to eat a cookie. I think that a 60 mile drive for a $1.25 Diddy Riese cookie sandwich merits a friend token.
Worker: I'm seriously seriously seriously thinking about starting school up in the fall. I'm utterly useless at my job. Not utterly, but I want to be utterly useless. I don't want to work. I have lost my denim gumption. I am home today because I think I swallowed a golf ball with my neck, and I feel that they will do all right without me. Which leads me to believe that perhaps my time in premium denim is drawing to an end, and my time as a debt-ridden student should finally begin. I can't decide... this has been a FAB'LOUS job to have while Jesse goes to school - I have put food in our mouths and jeans on our butts, and gained some semi-valuable Microsoft Excel experience along the way, but really.... this job is preparing me for NOTHING. I'm going to visit an academic and a financial aid counselor in the upcoming days. We shall see the viability of this.
Daughter: I told my family I could go camping with them this summer, and now I can't because of training at work. HOW STUPID IS THAT?
Housewife: We have 2 weeks worth of dishes languishing in the kitchen because it turns out our brand new dishwasher can't actually clean anything. And I haven't done anything about it but stare at them. I feel slightly vindicated because none of them are mine but one saucepan and a fork, but it's kind of my job to do the dishes.... and I'm not. I need a new scrubber!
All in all... I still feel pretty good about myself anyway. Ha!
Friday, June 5, 2009
There Will be an EXPLOSION
Of things with flat seams!
I just found out (and checked out) that IKEA has fabric. And, my friends, who does not want an apron or a small purse or a pillowcase made out of IKEA fabric?:
Answer: if you don't, you're not my real friend. With my distaste for things floral except for real (live) flowers, this is PERFECT. Barely a flower in sight, and not a one like a lil' ditsy print or reasonable imitation of something my grandmother would wear or my mother would put in a quilt. Not that I'll ever actually get to an IKEA because my husband is wily and wise and reasonably attached to our money. So fancy-pants (or skirt) fabric remains a distant dream, only to be capitalized upon if I sell something I made or an organ.
However: someone stole my $100 I saved up for sewing-machine repair out of my purse. Now I can't sew until I save it back up. DANGIT DANGIT DANGIT
I just found out (and checked out) that IKEA has fabric. And, my friends, who does not want an apron or a small purse or a pillowcase made out of IKEA fabric?:
Answer: if you don't, you're not my real friend. With my distaste for things floral except for real (live) flowers, this is PERFECT. Barely a flower in sight, and not a one like a lil' ditsy print or reasonable imitation of something my grandmother would wear or my mother would put in a quilt. Not that I'll ever actually get to an IKEA because my husband is wily and wise and reasonably attached to our money. So fancy-pants (or skirt) fabric remains a distant dream, only to be capitalized upon if I sell something I made or an organ.However: someone stole my $100 I saved up for sewing-machine repair out of my purse. Now I can't sew until I save it back up. DANGIT DANGIT DANGIT
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Stacks and Stacks
Also the name of a good organizational products webstore. Hrm. How contrary.
My life is surrounded. At work, I am slowly becoming surrounded by files, stacks of tiny 3x5 cuts of various fabrics (or as my Korean coworker would say "flabics"), 4" locking binders, and 1 yard pieces of other, less various fabrics. And paper to be recycled that is generally floating around my feet like nefarious toe-eating insects. Who gets paper cuts on their toes?! (A: I do).
At home, I am surrounded by boxes of things that have no place. Actually, we've discarded the boxes, so now I am only surrounded by THINGS. They taunt me with their unbelongedness - such is the hazard of being an impetuous purchaser married to another impetuous purchaser/student with books and looseleaf liability - the grievous buildup of things you have once wanted and might yet want again, but currently would rather stash in the back of a cupboard until such a time comes again. Or hang on a wall BUT WHICH WALL I DON'T KNOW I'LL JUST LEAVE IT FOR THE TIME BEING.
Note: I have placed stacks and stacks of bracelets upon my arm today in hopes of being in tune with my surroundings.
I have diminished my stacks at work quite a bit today - however, my stack reducing timetable has been greatly diminished at the new apartment due to the imminent arrival of the in-laws. Now, I have a friend arriving today, and another tomorrow, but really - they are my friends. They (I hope) do not care if there are 5 bamboo table runners in a pile waiting to be transformed into glorious decorative pieces, or weird chiropractic books open on the couch involving mulleted men in boxer shorts being poked by be-coated guys with spectacles and mustaches. However - this is the first time the mother in law will have seen any of our places, and I want her to think that I am taking care of her first-born, not forcing him into a squalor much like that of any bachelor.
The good thing is, I think, that he was messier even when he lived at home. So no matter what, the fact that the mess is even slightly controlled is better than previous track records. At least that's what I like to think.
My life is surrounded. At work, I am slowly becoming surrounded by files, stacks of tiny 3x5 cuts of various fabrics (or as my Korean coworker would say "flabics"), 4" locking binders, and 1 yard pieces of other, less various fabrics. And paper to be recycled that is generally floating around my feet like nefarious toe-eating insects. Who gets paper cuts on their toes?! (A: I do).
At home, I am surrounded by boxes of things that have no place. Actually, we've discarded the boxes, so now I am only surrounded by THINGS. They taunt me with their unbelongedness - such is the hazard of being an impetuous purchaser married to another impetuous purchaser/student with books and looseleaf liability - the grievous buildup of things you have once wanted and might yet want again, but currently would rather stash in the back of a cupboard until such a time comes again. Or hang on a wall BUT WHICH WALL I DON'T KNOW I'LL JUST LEAVE IT FOR THE TIME BEING.
Note: I have placed stacks and stacks of bracelets upon my arm today in hopes of being in tune with my surroundings.
I have diminished my stacks at work quite a bit today - however, my stack reducing timetable has been greatly diminished at the new apartment due to the imminent arrival of the in-laws. Now, I have a friend arriving today, and another tomorrow, but really - they are my friends. They (I hope) do not care if there are 5 bamboo table runners in a pile waiting to be transformed into glorious decorative pieces, or weird chiropractic books open on the couch involving mulleted men in boxer shorts being poked by be-coated guys with spectacles and mustaches. However - this is the first time the mother in law will have seen any of our places, and I want her to think that I am taking care of her first-born, not forcing him into a squalor much like that of any bachelor.
The good thing is, I think, that he was messier even when he lived at home. So no matter what, the fact that the mess is even slightly controlled is better than previous track records. At least that's what I like to think.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Hint Taken
I received a comment on my last post saying "Keep up the good work". I assume this means, "I noticed you haven't posted a blog in the lifetime of a turtle. WTF"
Primary Main Disappointment Reason: Jesse and have moved! Yayyyy!!! But getting boxes of binders out of the middle of our new wood-patterned linoleum flooring has taken priority over sitting on the couch writing blogs while Jesse gets frustrated at my refusal to help. P.S. We have SO many binders.
Secondary Main Disappointment Reason: Apparently I only have hourly internet access. As in, it works during the day and on weekends, but it DOES NOT GO in the evening, which is when I most particularly want to sit down and type.
Tertiary Non-Main Disappointment Reason: The longer you go without posting a blog, the easier it is to be all "well, I haven't written anything in (couple days, week, month), what's one more day?" I fell into the self-propagating trap.
In other news... they laid off my only coworker. And like ten other people. That was exciting.
I'm going to post some sweet photos of our new place soon. As soon as I can figure out where to put all of the hordes of binders. And get a laundry basket. And do the laundry. Etc.
Primary Main Disappointment Reason: Jesse and have moved! Yayyyy!!! But getting boxes of binders out of the middle of our new wood-patterned linoleum flooring has taken priority over sitting on the couch writing blogs while Jesse gets frustrated at my refusal to help. P.S. We have SO many binders.
Secondary Main Disappointment Reason: Apparently I only have hourly internet access. As in, it works during the day and on weekends, but it DOES NOT GO in the evening, which is when I most particularly want to sit down and type.
Tertiary Non-Main Disappointment Reason: The longer you go without posting a blog, the easier it is to be all "well, I haven't written anything in (couple days, week, month), what's one more day?" I fell into the self-propagating trap.
In other news... they laid off my only coworker. And like ten other people. That was exciting.
I'm going to post some sweet photos of our new place soon. As soon as I can figure out where to put all of the hordes of binders. And get a laundry basket. And do the laundry. Etc.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Excuse me While I Barf Clothing
I have had this idea in my head for like three days, and now I hope I will forget about it because it is posted for public consumption and future personal reference. I won't get all philosophical on the color juxtapositions or nothin', but I really think it's purdy. I ALSO really apologize to any male who might have been thinking that "sometimes this chick is funny. I'll check back" who is now never going to check back because all I've been posting recently is pictures of stuff I want because I'm too tossed from work to post intelligently anymore. Sigh.
White Dress:
Dramatic Turquoise Jewelry, like one of these on each wrist:
or
And equally dramatic neckwear, such as this:
Or, most belovedly, this:
I'm going to go dye my hair and think about which kind of >5 pound dog I should, like, totally buy and dress up in cute little parkas even though it's LOS ANGELES.
White Dress:
Dramatic Turquoise Jewelry, like one of these on each wrist:
or
And equally dramatic neckwear, such as this:
Or, most belovedly, this:
I'm going to go dye my hair and think about which kind of >5 pound dog I should, like, totally buy and dress up in cute little parkas even though it's LOS ANGELES.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
It Ain't Easy Being Green
I've been making a conscious effort to be a little less wasteful these days... to buy things that don't come in fatty packages, to buy things made from natural and/or sustainable ingredients, to recycle as much stuff as I can. You know. Be TRENDY.
Fail:
I bought a simply-packaged lotion from the local store, where it was displayed in the "natural" section, but when I visited the website, it's this HUGE chain of lotion and cosmetic anti-wrinkle lotion brands, and is just regular lotion with a boring label. But I have to use it, because it would be EVEN MORE WASTEFUL not to. AND, the pump wouldn't come up. Damn big-box lotion pump-top. At least it smells OK. Like chemical fruits.
Fail:
I also bought a bamboo shower poof, as my old one was shredded to bits from my apparently shark-like skin. It had a name like "ECOPOOF" or something with a recycled label and green edges. OH FICKLE SELF, HOW EASILY YOU ARE FOOLED BY GREEN THINGS. Come to learn, contrary to popular propaganda, though bamboo is indeed sustainable, so is cotton, and bamboo takes FAR more chemical processing to render into soft fibers for bath poofs. Also, my ecopoof is still 20% cotton and 7% nylon, as evidenced by the tiny label tucked deftly into the folds. ALSO. Adding water to a bamboo poof is much like adding water to a 3-foot wad of paper towels hanging on an ECOSTRING. It turns into a solid, unmalleable hunk of fabric, unable to hold the smidgeniest particles of soap or do anything but beat your skin into cleanliness submission. I kind of doubt the cleanliness of that beating, though.
So I'm going to use my ecopoof until which point I run out of liquid soap, and switch to bar soap because a) less packaging, b) no ecopoof of death, and c) I can buy them at farmer's markets in myriad flavors. Stupid poof.
The moral of this story: if you're trying to live a little better, read up on the subject first, and buy things at health-food stores and Trader Joe's, etc. BAH
Fail:
I bought a simply-packaged lotion from the local store, where it was displayed in the "natural" section, but when I visited the website, it's this HUGE chain of lotion and cosmetic anti-wrinkle lotion brands, and is just regular lotion with a boring label. But I have to use it, because it would be EVEN MORE WASTEFUL not to. AND, the pump wouldn't come up. Damn big-box lotion pump-top. At least it smells OK. Like chemical fruits.
Fail:
I also bought a bamboo shower poof, as my old one was shredded to bits from my apparently shark-like skin. It had a name like "ECOPOOF" or something with a recycled label and green edges. OH FICKLE SELF, HOW EASILY YOU ARE FOOLED BY GREEN THINGS. Come to learn, contrary to popular propaganda, though bamboo is indeed sustainable, so is cotton, and bamboo takes FAR more chemical processing to render into soft fibers for bath poofs. Also, my ecopoof is still 20% cotton and 7% nylon, as evidenced by the tiny label tucked deftly into the folds. ALSO. Adding water to a bamboo poof is much like adding water to a 3-foot wad of paper towels hanging on an ECOSTRING. It turns into a solid, unmalleable hunk of fabric, unable to hold the smidgeniest particles of soap or do anything but beat your skin into cleanliness submission. I kind of doubt the cleanliness of that beating, though.
So I'm going to use my ecopoof until which point I run out of liquid soap, and switch to bar soap because a) less packaging, b) no ecopoof of death, and c) I can buy them at farmer's markets in myriad flavors. Stupid poof.
The moral of this story: if you're trying to live a little better, read up on the subject first, and buy things at health-food stores and Trader Joe's, etc. BAH
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
On Getting to Work Early
I got to work today at 7:45, and last week one day I got here at 7:00. Which I actually really like, because it gives me time to catch up on stuff without people bugging me to get something for them, and also to post blogs.
However.
Apparently, arriving before anyone else gives the Mexicans leave to tap on the glass and wave at you like you were an anomalous fish in a giant well-stocked-with-paper bowl. And it's only them... the Koreans, the Chinese, the White Folk... smile sometimes, maybe wave, maybe ignore you, but EVERY Mexican guy that walks by has to stop and tap. DUDE. I got here early so I could post on my blog. Not attract you with my feminine wiles. SHEESH.
There's this one guy, whose name I do not know, nor do I know where in this vast maze he works or what he does or why he knows me.... who thinks we have some sort of intimate bond that transcends the barriers of race and speaking the same language (he does NOT know I speak Spanish and I hope to keep it that way and me being married. It's SO bizarre. Every gathering there is at work, be it a company-wide meeting about survey results, a Halloween party where everyone seems to dress up as Cantinflas, or a bowling party - he brings his camera so he can take a photo with me. But not just one photo - like 12, because he needs just the right one. SO bizarre. This guy must have like 42 pictures up in a shrine with some of those candles in glass jars with pictures of saints that look like George W Bush that you can get at Food 4 Less. That is what I imagine in my head.
Anyway - people are beginning to arrive, and duty calls. That and I am surrounded by glass. Everyone can see the distinctive blue and orange of a blogger post page. I must go.
However.
Apparently, arriving before anyone else gives the Mexicans leave to tap on the glass and wave at you like you were an anomalous fish in a giant well-stocked-with-paper bowl. And it's only them... the Koreans, the Chinese, the White Folk... smile sometimes, maybe wave, maybe ignore you, but EVERY Mexican guy that walks by has to stop and tap. DUDE. I got here early so I could post on my blog. Not attract you with my feminine wiles. SHEESH.
There's this one guy, whose name I do not know, nor do I know where in this vast maze he works or what he does or why he knows me.... who thinks we have some sort of intimate bond that transcends the barriers of race and speaking the same language (he does NOT know I speak Spanish and I hope to keep it that way and me being married. It's SO bizarre. Every gathering there is at work, be it a company-wide meeting about survey results, a Halloween party where everyone seems to dress up as Cantinflas, or a bowling party - he brings his camera so he can take a photo with me. But not just one photo - like 12, because he needs just the right one. SO bizarre. This guy must have like 42 pictures up in a shrine with some of those candles in glass jars with pictures of saints that look like George W Bush that you can get at Food 4 Less. That is what I imagine in my head.
Anyway - people are beginning to arrive, and duty calls. That and I am surrounded by glass. Everyone can see the distinctive blue and orange of a blogger post page. I must go.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Things I Love: Fashion Time
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Explhaustion and Fragrances
MAN ALIVE. Though I don't know what that phrase actually refers to, just MAN ALIVE has this been a busy three weeks at work. Like, so busy that my desk looks like a shred-it machine barfed all over it before it had a chance to digest. As seen here:
It is full of things. Mostly things that I haven't yet finished and should have finished last week, or things that I'm not even allowed to sort and file yet, but will find myself in hot water if I do not at least sort and get a general sense of the topography of the paper landscape. Also note that THE WALLS ARE MADE OF GLASS. This does not promote quiet thought, concentration and focus, or browsing the internet at any point. It does promote getting waved at by every person I've ever met, and having the glass next to my desk tapped on as if I were a fish in an aquarium. A highly stylish aquarium.
Hence the rarer blogging. It's harder to justify sitting down in my limited at-home time and writing about how many cells I entered data into on one of my forty-two spreadsheets today. Or how I GOT GIFTED BVLGARI PERFUME this week by a contractor. Right after we'd splurged and each bought ourselves perfume, too. Now I have two. I can smell of a "crisp, floral green scent that arouses a spirit of fresh floral emotions and embodies the natural, distinctive young woman seeking a sensual signature essence as pure and enticing as the first spring blossoms." I TOTALLY WANTED TO HAVE FRESH FLORAL EMOTIONS. That's what all the Prozac had been for!! Or, I can smell like myself... that is to say... "outrageous, but always charming and unpredictably sexy. Fresh and playful, the fragrance is a classic, green-oriental blend of lush fruits, sweet nutty essences, and soothing amber, vanilla, and Tonka bean. And everyone know what a sweet nutty essence I am. I'm glad I'm not a perfume verbage artist.
It is full of things. Mostly things that I haven't yet finished and should have finished last week, or things that I'm not even allowed to sort and file yet, but will find myself in hot water if I do not at least sort and get a general sense of the topography of the paper landscape. Also note that THE WALLS ARE MADE OF GLASS. This does not promote quiet thought, concentration and focus, or browsing the internet at any point. It does promote getting waved at by every person I've ever met, and having the glass next to my desk tapped on as if I were a fish in an aquarium. A highly stylish aquarium.
Hence the rarer blogging. It's harder to justify sitting down in my limited at-home time and writing about how many cells I entered data into on one of my forty-two spreadsheets today. Or how I GOT GIFTED BVLGARI PERFUME this week by a contractor. Right after we'd splurged and each bought ourselves perfume, too. Now I have two. I can smell of a "crisp, floral green scent that arouses a spirit of fresh floral emotions and embodies the natural, distinctive young woman seeking a sensual signature essence as pure and enticing as the first spring blossoms." I TOTALLY WANTED TO HAVE FRESH FLORAL EMOTIONS. That's what all the Prozac had been for!! Or, I can smell like myself... that is to say... "outrageous, but always charming and unpredictably sexy. Fresh and playful, the fragrance is a classic, green-oriental blend of lush fruits, sweet nutty essences, and soothing amber, vanilla, and Tonka bean. And everyone know what a sweet nutty essence I am. I'm glad I'm not a perfume verbage artist.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Ugh
The longer I go without posting, the easier it is to be all "Meh... I haven't posted in 400 days... what's another day to add to that? No one will care." Perhaps this is true. Perhaps not.
Our good friend Molly stayed with us on our pea-green superfuton last WEEK, which was pretty much the greatest. She can be our fifth futon roommate anytime, or all the time. She even got up with me at FIVE in the MORNING to go on walks before I had to leave for work. That is hardcore. I went for a walk by myself at the five in the morning yesterday, and it was the lame. I even carried my pepper spray in plain view because, even though I've never really been approached or even have a reason to think I might be, I'm still scared some dude will come up and try to sweet-talk me and then throw me to the ground on the side of one of the busier streets in Downtown Long Beach. I'm scared of the bums, too, but I was thinking on my walk alone yesterday about how it's really way less likely for a bum to rape you, because rape is really all about power and control, and obviously if bums were lusting after power and control then they wouldn't be bums. But I steer clear generally, regardless of this thought, because bums are oftentimes crazy.
I did not get up at five this morning to walk because Jesse and I stayed up late(r) last night to put together the new BED FRAME he got off craigslist last night. This is the first time I won't be sleeping on a mattress on the floor since I moved out of my parent's house!!! This also signifies the beginnings of bruised shins and stubbed toes, because while it doesn't matter how hard you round the corner of your floor-mattress in the morning, it really does matter when the corners are made of wood. Or particleboard. Still. I have to give the hubbin props - when I got home from sewing class, the bed was fully paid, transported, and assembled in the bedroom. All I had to do was help shove the mattress on top. The best husbandly thing EVER. I bet now I have to cook actual meals for like a whole two weeks in gratitude. P.S., that may not be the best form of repayment. Just a warning, you who eat my cooking.
Our good friend Molly stayed with us on our pea-green superfuton last WEEK, which was pretty much the greatest. She can be our fifth futon roommate anytime, or all the time. She even got up with me at FIVE in the MORNING to go on walks before I had to leave for work. That is hardcore. I went for a walk by myself at the five in the morning yesterday, and it was the lame. I even carried my pepper spray in plain view because, even though I've never really been approached or even have a reason to think I might be, I'm still scared some dude will come up and try to sweet-talk me and then throw me to the ground on the side of one of the busier streets in Downtown Long Beach. I'm scared of the bums, too, but I was thinking on my walk alone yesterday about how it's really way less likely for a bum to rape you, because rape is really all about power and control, and obviously if bums were lusting after power and control then they wouldn't be bums. But I steer clear generally, regardless of this thought, because bums are oftentimes crazy.
I did not get up at five this morning to walk because Jesse and I stayed up late(r) last night to put together the new BED FRAME he got off craigslist last night. This is the first time I won't be sleeping on a mattress on the floor since I moved out of my parent's house!!! This also signifies the beginnings of bruised shins and stubbed toes, because while it doesn't matter how hard you round the corner of your floor-mattress in the morning, it really does matter when the corners are made of wood. Or particleboard. Still. I have to give the hubbin props - when I got home from sewing class, the bed was fully paid, transported, and assembled in the bedroom. All I had to do was help shove the mattress on top. The best husbandly thing EVER. I bet now I have to cook actual meals for like a whole two weeks in gratitude. P.S., that may not be the best form of repayment. Just a warning, you who eat my cooking.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Upcoming Events
1) Drinking terrible coffee for several months straight. I don't know why I did this - well, I do know why I did this, but in retrospect, I don't know what sort of rationale made me believe myself... I bought a vat of Yuban coffee. "Why!?", you ask. "Why would you buy church (of discomfort) discount coffee in a 700-serving size?! Do you wish to torture yourself to prove that you're tough?!" Answer: not initially, but I'll power through, and then you'll be forced to respect me. For drinking a whole vat of Yuban. The rationale, p.s., was that Margaret first suggested a vat of Maxwell House (served by the po' church of vexation of spirit), then a cheerily colored vacuum-pak of Dunkin' Donuts coffee, so I grabbed the nicely-colored Yuban and ran, never looking sideways at all the winking packages of Starbucks and Ethiopian Yrgacheffe wondering why I had forsaken them.
2) Molly is coming to visit for a WEEK! Who knew my futon was so comfortable? And she's even sharing it with her travel buddy. WIN for green futon! We're so broke that we aren't going to be able to show her any sights except whatever is along the free bus route and "things Jenny has never cooked but is attempting today." Should be an exciting trip for her - I mean - foodwise, at least. Maybe not so much adventurewise.
3) Reno Dance Sensation ( www.renodancesensation.com). Still not 100% decided on going, actually. Wouldn't it be cooler, really, if instead of spending several hundred non-existent dollars on a hotel room and staying up for four days straight, we instead came HOME the next weekend and spent several hundred HOURS (or 100 hours) hanging out with all our friends in an intimate, exhaustion-and-alcohol-and-rockstar-free environment? Quite possibly involving wine? And sleep during the night? Again - not sure. Jesse really does love sitting next to the craps table and watching, hoping to be tapped again for the AAA magazine photo shoot so he can feel important and get free booze. (As if you don't get free booze by watching craps).
4) Jon and Marg may be extending their stay for another couple months, so I don't have to worry about packing all my shit into boxes with numbers for at least another couple months. I'm down. I prefer Long Beach over all the other terrible smelly cities in the greater Los Angeles area.
5) If Jesse ever fails a class, it means we have to stay in LA another 8 months. No pressure.
2) Molly is coming to visit for a WEEK! Who knew my futon was so comfortable? And she's even sharing it with her travel buddy. WIN for green futon! We're so broke that we aren't going to be able to show her any sights except whatever is along the free bus route and "things Jenny has never cooked but is attempting today." Should be an exciting trip for her - I mean - foodwise, at least. Maybe not so much adventurewise.
3) Reno Dance Sensation ( www.renodancesensation.com). Still not 100% decided on going, actually. Wouldn't it be cooler, really, if instead of spending several hundred non-existent dollars on a hotel room and staying up for four days straight, we instead came HOME the next weekend and spent several hundred HOURS (or 100 hours) hanging out with all our friends in an intimate, exhaustion-and-alcohol-and-rockstar-free environment? Quite possibly involving wine? And sleep during the night? Again - not sure. Jesse really does love sitting next to the craps table and watching, hoping to be tapped again for the AAA magazine photo shoot so he can feel important and get free booze. (As if you don't get free booze by watching craps).
4) Jon and Marg may be extending their stay for another couple months, so I don't have to worry about packing all my shit into boxes with numbers for at least another couple months. I'm down. I prefer Long Beach over all the other terrible smelly cities in the greater Los Angeles area.
5) If Jesse ever fails a class, it means we have to stay in LA another 8 months. No pressure.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
New THING!!
The produce-things bug has stricken again, and this is the welt it produced:
One fancy-pants, poorly photographed pearl necklace. More to come.
One fancy-pants, poorly photographed pearl necklace. More to come.
Friday, March 6, 2009
I Remember why I Only Listen in the Morning
My coworker was able to tune our radio into an ACTUAL RADIO STATION yesterday, through many many layers of sheet rock and that silver metallic duct-y tube and old pigeons and being removed from planet earth by a hallway as long as God. That station was KIIS FM, which I have mentioned before in my references to Ryan Seacrest in the Morning who interrupts Everyone Ever Born except for Michelle Obama, which was awesome.
Listening to this radio station reminded me just WHY I'll only listen to today's hits (but not yesterday's favorites) for the half hour it takes me to sling my little car to work in the morning (but not in the evening)... if I EVER hear "pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face. pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face. pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face. pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face. pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face. pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face. pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face. pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face. pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face. pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face. pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face." again, I will personally find "Lady" Gaga and pa-pa-pa-poke her face. With my fist. And maybe the brass knuckles that I'll craft for the occasion out of recycled chewing gum wrappers, sequins, and death. Srsly. I heard it EIGHT times yesterday. If people want to hear it that much, they can go buy her CD. Or steal it off the internet. Something that would remove it from constant repetition over the airwaves. Also, that song that stole the melody from "You Spin Me Right Round (like a record)". Not only is the song dirty in and of itself, it also hearkens consistently back to meatspin. Really, dude. My roommate covered that a year ago.
I watched Ryan Seacrest on American Idol while we were eating sushi last night, and it occurred to me that Ryan Seacrest is probably a vampire. There's no way he could possibly have enough hours to do all things he does and still sleep. He Idols, he does his radio show from 5 - 10am, he shows up in random places to stick his weird face with extra-wide mouth into random photos, he goes out with the mean guy from American Idol and picks up chicks, he does things with only attractive women that I don't want to think about, he shows up on Jimmy Kimmel... and the only thing about him that isn't ordinary is his work ethic. I could interrupt people for 5 hours a morning. I could host American Idol but my teeth aren't shiny enough. I could pick up hot chicks at a bar with a guy who is mean-bit-british so it's ok. However - I would NOT do all of these things simultaneously. This is where Ryan Seacrest and I differ - also the genitalia. But more the work ethic. He REALLY wants to be important. He wants to be a global brand. I really want to not work. And there you have it. The END.
Listening to this radio station reminded me just WHY I'll only listen to today's hits (but not yesterday's favorites) for the half hour it takes me to sling my little car to work in the morning (but not in the evening)... if I EVER hear "pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face. pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face. pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face. pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face. pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face. pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face. pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face. pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face. pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face. pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face. pa-pa-pa-poker face, my pa-poker face." again, I will personally find "Lady" Gaga and pa-pa-pa-poke her face. With my fist. And maybe the brass knuckles that I'll craft for the occasion out of recycled chewing gum wrappers, sequins, and death. Srsly. I heard it EIGHT times yesterday. If people want to hear it that much, they can go buy her CD. Or steal it off the internet. Something that would remove it from constant repetition over the airwaves. Also, that song that stole the melody from "You Spin Me Right Round (like a record)". Not only is the song dirty in and of itself, it also hearkens consistently back to meatspin. Really, dude. My roommate covered that a year ago.
I watched Ryan Seacrest on American Idol while we were eating sushi last night, and it occurred to me that Ryan Seacrest is probably a vampire. There's no way he could possibly have enough hours to do all things he does and still sleep. He Idols, he does his radio show from 5 - 10am, he shows up in random places to stick his weird face with extra-wide mouth into random photos, he goes out with the mean guy from American Idol and picks up chicks, he does things with only attractive women that I don't want to think about, he shows up on Jimmy Kimmel... and the only thing about him that isn't ordinary is his work ethic. I could interrupt people for 5 hours a morning. I could host American Idol but my teeth aren't shiny enough. I could pick up hot chicks at a bar with a guy who is mean-bit-british so it's ok. However - I would NOT do all of these things simultaneously. This is where Ryan Seacrest and I differ - also the genitalia. But more the work ethic. He REALLY wants to be important. He wants to be a global brand. I really want to not work. And there you have it. The END.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Wine-O, Mine-O
We went back home this weekend!
OH, how I miss having friends with whom to sit around and eat unhealthy things and not worry about waistlines and whether or not after eating something you will continue to fit into next season's daring fashions. It was like visiting another, happier planet, where friendship matters more than fashion. It also helps, I think, that everyone lives withing 10 minutes of each other.
Jesse's mom made us corned beef and cabbage for the special occasion of our visit - while I appreciate the MAD effort and time that goes into making a 3 pound hunk of otherwise unusable cow into a salty brothy concoction ... this does not really count towards the "food" category of things in a kitchen. I do not like it, Sam I Am. It made Jesse sick for a whole day due to the richness (fattiness). Maybe that means he won't lust after me making it for special occasions. Which I wouldn't anyway. Guess what he's getting for graduating from doctor school? NOT IRISH FOOD.
It was so nice to sit with a group of 4 friends and my lil' (BIG) brother and just drink 3 bottles of wine and eat bread with oil and balsamic and baked brie with brown sugar and with bleu cheese, and then play Yahtzee because no one will play word games with me. It was nice to sit with friends, period. Drinking 3 bottles of wine and eating 2 loaves of bread and a wedge of cheese just isn't the same when it's only you and the person you're with EVERY DAY. You get fatter that way, and sometimes have wine hangovers, which are less rumble-gutsy but more headachey than other hangovers. It's like your body is like "these are grapes. Grapes are natural for human consumption. WAIT. THESE GRAPES HAVE GONE BAD. I'll teach you not to eat bad grapes. Here is a headache lesson."
And so. Wonder of wonders. I miss small-town life quite a bit. Though I might not have gotten up the gumption to take up sewing if I still had friends. So there is that.
OH, how I miss having friends with whom to sit around and eat unhealthy things and not worry about waistlines and whether or not after eating something you will continue to fit into next season's daring fashions. It was like visiting another, happier planet, where friendship matters more than fashion. It also helps, I think, that everyone lives withing 10 minutes of each other.
Jesse's mom made us corned beef and cabbage for the special occasion of our visit - while I appreciate the MAD effort and time that goes into making a 3 pound hunk of otherwise unusable cow into a salty brothy concoction ... this does not really count towards the "food" category of things in a kitchen. I do not like it, Sam I Am. It made Jesse sick for a whole day due to the richness (fattiness). Maybe that means he won't lust after me making it for special occasions. Which I wouldn't anyway. Guess what he's getting for graduating from doctor school? NOT IRISH FOOD.
It was so nice to sit with a group of 4 friends and my lil' (BIG) brother and just drink 3 bottles of wine and eat bread with oil and balsamic and baked brie with brown sugar and with bleu cheese, and then play Yahtzee because no one will play word games with me. It was nice to sit with friends, period. Drinking 3 bottles of wine and eating 2 loaves of bread and a wedge of cheese just isn't the same when it's only you and the person you're with EVERY DAY. You get fatter that way, and sometimes have wine hangovers, which are less rumble-gutsy but more headachey than other hangovers. It's like your body is like "these are grapes. Grapes are natural for human consumption. WAIT. THESE GRAPES HAVE GONE BAD. I'll teach you not to eat bad grapes. Here is a headache lesson."
And so. Wonder of wonders. I miss small-town life quite a bit. Though I might not have gotten up the gumption to take up sewing if I still had friends. So there is that.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
100 Books that British People Love
Circulating on facebook at the moment is this list, with the information reading "Apparently the BBC reckons most people will have only read 6 of the 100 books here."
Instructions:
1) Look at the list and put an 'x' after those you have read.
2) Add a '+' to the ones you LOVE. NOTE HOW I PUT PLUSSES AFTER ALL OF THEM. THIS IS BECAUSE I AM A 'TARD AND DIDN'T READ THE INSTRUCTIONS.
3) Star (*) those you plan on reading.
As for that BBC reckons that peeps will have only read 6, the BBC reckoned no such thing. This was a list compiled over a year of BBC subscribers' favorite books. As such, having only read 6 out of 100 of people's CURRENT favorite books actually means you a) are illiterate, b) read only trashy romance novels (female) Star Trek books (male and my sister), c) are an American Youth, d) only watch movies once they make it onto the big screen. I say big screen because the only people who watch books that were made into TV series are the people who have already read those books (i.e. nerds and romantics).
1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen +
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien+
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte+
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling+
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee+
6 The Bible +
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte+
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell+
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman+
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens+
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott +
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller+
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare (WORKS!? That's 37 books, not to mention collections of poetry. Plus, Hamlet is listed again later. I refuse)
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier+
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien+
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger+
19 The Time Traveller’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell +in progress
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald+
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams+
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck+
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll+
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame +
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis (Again with the multiples)+
34 Emma - Jane Austen
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis THIS IS THE SAME AS 33!!
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Berniere
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne +
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell +
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown +
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez +
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins + I LOVE THIS BOOK
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood +
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding +
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens+
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez+
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck+
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold+
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie+
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville+
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens+
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker+
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett +
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce
76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens +
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker +
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White+
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery+
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams +
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare (Isn't this in his "Collected Works"?)+
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl +
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo (I've tried. I've failed)
45 out of 98. Not bad. Let's just consider the rest to be *starred* for future reading, except Les Miserables. I've watched that movie, at least. Mmm.... Liam Neeson.... I've been looking for a list of classics (and apparently Harry Potter) that I ought to read, and if the BBC readers love these books most, well... I'll take that into consideration.
Instructions:
1) Look at the list and put an 'x' after those you have read.
2) Add a '+' to the ones you LOVE. NOTE HOW I PUT PLUSSES AFTER ALL OF THEM. THIS IS BECAUSE I AM A 'TARD AND DIDN'T READ THE INSTRUCTIONS.
3) Star (*) those you plan on reading.
As for that BBC reckons that peeps will have only read 6, the BBC reckoned no such thing. This was a list compiled over a year of BBC subscribers' favorite books. As such, having only read 6 out of 100 of people's CURRENT favorite books actually means you a) are illiterate, b) read only trashy romance novels (female) Star Trek books (male and my sister), c) are an American Youth, d) only watch movies once they make it onto the big screen. I say big screen because the only people who watch books that were made into TV series are the people who have already read those books (i.e. nerds and romantics).
1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen +
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien+
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte+
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling+
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee+
6 The Bible +
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte+
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell+
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman+
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens+
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott +
12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller+
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare (WORKS!? That's 37 books, not to mention collections of poetry. Plus, Hamlet is listed again later. I refuse)
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier+
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien+
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger+
19 The Time Traveller’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell +in progress
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald+
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams+
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck+
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll+
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame +
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis (Again with the multiples)+
34 Emma - Jane Austen
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis THIS IS THE SAME AS 33!!
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Berniere
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne +
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell +
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown +
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez +
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins + I LOVE THIS BOOK
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood +
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding +
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens+
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez+
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck+
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold+
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie+
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville+
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens+
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker+
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett +
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce
76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens +
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker +
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte’s Web - EB White+
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery+
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams +
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare (Isn't this in his "Collected Works"?)+
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl +
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo (I've tried. I've failed)
45 out of 98. Not bad. Let's just consider the rest to be *starred* for future reading, except Les Miserables. I've watched that movie, at least. Mmm.... Liam Neeson.... I've been looking for a list of classics (and apparently Harry Potter) that I ought to read, and if the BBC readers love these books most, well... I'll take that into consideration.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Purchased Pincushion (due to lameness)
I finally just bought a damned pincusion. This is Katie the Cactus. I purchased her from the Etsy store of Crystal's Creations and Gifts, and I LOVE her. I haven't even gotten her in the mail yet, but when I do... let me tell you. I'm going to stick her like a voodoo doll.Sunday, February 22, 2009
Sorry for the Lameness
I haven't posted in a few days (some peeps I'm sure are thinking PHEW!). Mostly due to lethargy, a little bit due to it being the weekend and not having anything interesting happen, and the last bit due to my attempting several times to make a mother$#*&ing pincushion in which to put my pins and failing miserably EVERY DAMNED TIME.
I was going to make an adorable hedgehog pincushion with the pins being the spikes and name him Prick in honor of Jesse, but I ended up with this fraying abomination that could be bested by a 5 year old in a special needs kindergarten class. It's hideous. It's terribly embarrassing that these hands that can produce the tiniest solder joints can NOT produce something from a pattern with instructions written for above-mentioned 5 year old. It's sitting in the bedroom because Jesse, for some reason that I'm sure includes "ammo for future blackmail", is apparently so in love with it that he won't let me put it out of its misery. No, you cannot see it. Ever, regardless of how good of friends you really think we are. Not ever. If Jesse offers to show it to you, know that it will be the last time you see him with both testicles. Just think of that when he says something about the hedgehog pincushion. SAVE HIS FUTURE BEES.
Then, I tried making an adorable cupcake pincushion like these, but I ended up instead with something that resembled my efforts when I was 5 to microwave flour paste in my pink plastic (insert 80's doll that came with a) muffin pan. Large, overblown, pasty-white, and completely useless. Finn can attest - he witnessed the frustration and ugliness.
Then, I thought to myself, "maybe I'll just do what I did for my very first pincushion when I was 5." I could cross-stitch something cheeky and/or snarky in a general square and then sew it together. Then I remembered: I'M IN ADULT BEGINNING SEWING: THE APRON". I can't sew things together yet. Even if I could, I'd have to wait until class ANYWAY, which is what I need a stupid pincushion for ANYWAY. UGH.
Although, in searching for cheeky and/or snarky things to stitch onto a pincushion, I happened upon this, from the blog author of Snarky Stitching, which in turn led me to watching Dr. Horrible's Singalong Blog, which I think is the best thing that has happened to humanity since the advent of Neil Patrick Harris being cool again. SRSLY - if you haven't watched it yet, you're not one of the cool kids like the whole rest of the United States and probably France. I knew I should have watched it sooner, and NOW it turns out you only have until July to watch it, at which point it will be gone forever. I don't know why.
Now, go watch Dr. Horrible and make sure not to think about Hedgehog Pincushions, because Jesse's future reproductive capabilities depend on you.
I was going to make an adorable hedgehog pincushion with the pins being the spikes and name him Prick in honor of Jesse, but I ended up with this fraying abomination that could be bested by a 5 year old in a special needs kindergarten class. It's hideous. It's terribly embarrassing that these hands that can produce the tiniest solder joints can NOT produce something from a pattern with instructions written for above-mentioned 5 year old. It's sitting in the bedroom because Jesse, for some reason that I'm sure includes "ammo for future blackmail", is apparently so in love with it that he won't let me put it out of its misery. No, you cannot see it. Ever, regardless of how good of friends you really think we are. Not ever. If Jesse offers to show it to you, know that it will be the last time you see him with both testicles. Just think of that when he says something about the hedgehog pincushion. SAVE HIS FUTURE BEES.
Then, I tried making an adorable cupcake pincushion like these, but I ended up instead with something that resembled my efforts when I was 5 to microwave flour paste in my pink plastic (insert 80's doll that came with a) muffin pan. Large, overblown, pasty-white, and completely useless. Finn can attest - he witnessed the frustration and ugliness.
Then, I thought to myself, "maybe I'll just do what I did for my very first pincushion when I was 5." I could cross-stitch something cheeky and/or snarky in a general square and then sew it together. Then I remembered: I'M IN ADULT BEGINNING SEWING: THE APRON". I can't sew things together yet. Even if I could, I'd have to wait until class ANYWAY, which is what I need a stupid pincushion for ANYWAY. UGH.
Although, in searching for cheeky and/or snarky things to stitch onto a pincushion, I happened upon this, from the blog author of Snarky Stitching, which in turn led me to watching Dr. Horrible's Singalong Blog, which I think is the best thing that has happened to humanity since the advent of Neil Patrick Harris being cool again. SRSLY - if you haven't watched it yet, you're not one of the cool kids like the whole rest of the United States and probably France. I knew I should have watched it sooner, and NOW it turns out you only have until July to watch it, at which point it will be gone forever. I don't know why.
Now, go watch Dr. Horrible and make sure not to think about Hedgehog Pincushions, because Jesse's future reproductive capabilities depend on you.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Because 5am is Where All the COOL Kids Hang Out
Jesse and I have discussed, and agreed upon (!), a new schedule. Seeing as we have the social lives of certain predatory birds, it makes no sense to stay up late and just wait around for bedtime by playing video games/facebook and spooling out that last reserve of energy until we're drained like a functional bathtub.
SO.
Starting Tuesday of this week, we are instead wasting our time in the morning, at FIVE O'CLOCK. Voluntarily. This is of about the same normalcy level as Jesse getting pregnant. With a gerbil. These past two mornings, I have spent my reserve three hours doing the following: facebook and crafts. The selfsame things I did in my post-work three hours. HOWEVER, I did these things without feeling guilty about not actively pursuing house-cleaning responsibilities instead. Because NOW, I can justify not unloading the dishwasher with "that would be so noisy for Jon and Margaret. I wouldn't want to wake them up with clanking dishes at (5am - 8am)." So I don't. I facebook without shame. Though at the same time, I am prevented from hammering on crap for the same reasons. Because I'm nice.
I thought I wouldn't like this super-early hour. Instead, I find I REALLY LIKE IT. I like having a cup of coffee or two and/or spilling it on my leg before brushing my teeth. I like sitting quietly across from Jesse while he reads and I do tiny things while I still maintain a semblance of good vision and not-carpal-tunnel hands. Someday I'll have old-lady-claws, so I'd best get this in before my knuckles look like tree knobs.
SO.
Starting Tuesday of this week, we are instead wasting our time in the morning, at FIVE O'CLOCK. Voluntarily. This is of about the same normalcy level as Jesse getting pregnant. With a gerbil. These past two mornings, I have spent my reserve three hours doing the following: facebook and crafts. The selfsame things I did in my post-work three hours. HOWEVER, I did these things without feeling guilty about not actively pursuing house-cleaning responsibilities instead. Because NOW, I can justify not unloading the dishwasher with "that would be so noisy for Jon and Margaret. I wouldn't want to wake them up with clanking dishes at (5am - 8am)." So I don't. I facebook without shame. Though at the same time, I am prevented from hammering on crap for the same reasons. Because I'm nice.
I thought I wouldn't like this super-early hour. Instead, I find I REALLY LIKE IT. I like having a cup of coffee or two and/or spilling it on my leg before brushing my teeth. I like sitting quietly across from Jesse while he reads and I do tiny things while I still maintain a semblance of good vision and not-carpal-tunnel hands. Someday I'll have old-lady-claws, so I'd best get this in before my knuckles look like tree knobs.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
American Teenage Slaughter of English (as evidenced by Taylor Swift)
I won't even go into the likes of English slaughter by the genres of "Rap" and "Hip-Hop", because it seems as if they are barely speaking the language in the first place, and that the whole point is kind of "who can make the biggest mistakes on purpose?" OOH. I KNOW. I'LL THROW MY HANDS IN THE AYER, AY-AYER, AYER. Because "air" now has two syllables.
Anyway. I've spoken of KIIS FM, Ryan Seacrest in the Morning, which is where I heard "Love Story" by Taylor Swift. She has it all - fame, fortune, a body worthy of posing on Women's Health even though she hadn't but barely reached her legal maturity. Look at this! female readers of a health magazine! This could all be yours! If you only but had the metabolism of pubescence that you wasted eating pizza in high school with your friends and forging lasting bonds instead of touring the country on a bus and connecting through myspace! I don't actually mean to bust on Taylor Swift, though. I think that she's rather talented, all considered.
BUT!
"You were Romeo, I was a Scarlet Letter?"
I just about scowled aloud at that. "You were the most romantic hero of all written history" - which I can dig - "I was the flamboyantly embroidered punishment symbol of a puritanical harlot who cuckolded her husband and brought about the death-by-shame of the man I loved and sinned, who was the heart and spirit of a whole town?" Does she know what "The Scarlet Letter" was about? And then the next line is "and my Daddy said 'stay away from Juliet'". So she's both aforementioned parole punishment and also the Shakespearean romantic heroine who saved herself only for Romeo? You can't be both.
Pardon my irritation. I know it's a dumb subject for a blog. It just drives me insane. Also - please notice that she switches audiences in the last stanza. Bah!
Also also notice: I knew all the words without looking them up. Guess who hums it to herself in the car?
Anyway. I've spoken of KIIS FM, Ryan Seacrest in the Morning, which is where I heard "Love Story" by Taylor Swift. She has it all - fame, fortune, a body worthy of posing on Women's Health even though she hadn't but barely reached her legal maturity. Look at this! female readers of a health magazine! This could all be yours! If you only but had the metabolism of pubescence that you wasted eating pizza in high school with your friends and forging lasting bonds instead of touring the country on a bus and connecting through myspace! I don't actually mean to bust on Taylor Swift, though. I think that she's rather talented, all considered.
BUT!
"You were Romeo, I was a Scarlet Letter?"
I just about scowled aloud at that. "You were the most romantic hero of all written history" - which I can dig - "I was the flamboyantly embroidered punishment symbol of a puritanical harlot who cuckolded her husband and brought about the death-by-shame of the man I loved and sinned, who was the heart and spirit of a whole town?" Does she know what "The Scarlet Letter" was about? And then the next line is "and my Daddy said 'stay away from Juliet'". So she's both aforementioned parole punishment and also the Shakespearean romantic heroine who saved herself only for Romeo? You can't be both.
Pardon my irritation. I know it's a dumb subject for a blog. It just drives me insane. Also - please notice that she switches audiences in the last stanza. Bah!
Also also notice: I knew all the words without looking them up. Guess who hums it to herself in the car?
Saturday, February 14, 2009
First Attempt at Bead Embroidery. Maybe Last.
I have spent so many hours sitting in my little "mod" chair creating this damnable, yet beautiful bracelet. Whilst I am proud of myself for not giving up, my shoulders do not thank me. Neither can I forgive myself for making it a little too big so that it's hard for me to wear. NEVERTHELESS! An artiste is never completely satisified, so that is what I must be. For another moment of self-gratification, here's a side view where I had glued another cabochon on each side until I remembered that glass doesn't bend. Obviously, I had to rethink my strategy:
Friday, February 13, 2009
Shallow Like Spilled Milk (there's no use crying about it)
I've developed a recent interest (that's a less-creepy word for 'obsession') with reading blogs and looking at pictures on the internet of eternally shallow subject matter, i.e. fashion and blatant narcissism. (Speaking of the narcissism word, I hear Madonna has an upcoming 48 picture spread in some magazine). This comes after a past 'interest' in reading magazines and looking glossy spreads of eternally shallow subject matter. What else is there to do as the receptionist at a large fashion company with time on my hands and Italian Vogue on the table? P.S. Italian magazine are totally down with nudity as a fashion statement.
There's one blog in particular that I won't link to because a) it's embarrassing to admit, and b) I don't want anyone else to get sucked into that kind of narcissism that features a thirty-something LA woman eternally talking about what she's wearing to work that day, and things she has worn in the past, and how she does her makeup. Each post features at least 6 - 10 photos of hers truly posing in today's outfit, many of which are horrendous but are carried solely on her own pomp and good hair. And even though I can't stand her horrific and embarrassing obsession with her own external self, I can't help but look at her blog every few weeks and ogle all the strange things she has done with a thrift-store sequin dress. It's like listening to Ryan Seacrest in the morning.
I don't know why I consistently subject myself to people who are like "look at my new (insert $700 purse name) bag for this week! It's so now!!" and then doing the same thing the next week. I hope I never develop this need for an over $10k/year shoe budget (Jesse - never let me do this). Perhaps I just look to see what looks I can create from shopping at Ross and Nordstrom's Rack and Payless Shoe Source. And the whore stores, which are great! I just make a pact with myself to never buy anything in them that involves the following: Ruffles, nylon lace, neon colors, metal trim, really big rhinestones (unless in belt buckle form), sequins, see-through-ness, plunging necklines, miniskirts/shorts, or those jumper-dress-things that are like a skirt with suspenders that seem to be popping up in windows everywhere. So that leaves me with about 4 things to choose from, which is a pretty good narrowing-down, I think.
Just a side note on the purse thing above: I have had the same purse for 3 years. And before that? The same purse. I just replaced it with a new the same purse. It has a cell phone pocket on the outside, which is all I really want in an accessory. I mean really. How do you find your new uber-cool cell phone when it's buried in a bag that would serve well as a parachute in a plane-crash emergency? Jesse need not worry about making a bag budget in the future. Just EVERYTHING ELSE.
There's one blog in particular that I won't link to because a) it's embarrassing to admit, and b) I don't want anyone else to get sucked into that kind of narcissism that features a thirty-something LA woman eternally talking about what she's wearing to work that day, and things she has worn in the past, and how she does her makeup. Each post features at least 6 - 10 photos of hers truly posing in today's outfit, many of which are horrendous but are carried solely on her own pomp and good hair. And even though I can't stand her horrific and embarrassing obsession with her own external self, I can't help but look at her blog every few weeks and ogle all the strange things she has done with a thrift-store sequin dress. It's like listening to Ryan Seacrest in the morning.
I don't know why I consistently subject myself to people who are like "look at my new (insert $700 purse name) bag for this week! It's so now!!" and then doing the same thing the next week. I hope I never develop this need for an over $10k/year shoe budget (Jesse - never let me do this). Perhaps I just look to see what looks I can create from shopping at Ross and Nordstrom's Rack and Payless Shoe Source. And the whore stores, which are great! I just make a pact with myself to never buy anything in them that involves the following: Ruffles, nylon lace, neon colors, metal trim, really big rhinestones (unless in belt buckle form), sequins, see-through-ness, plunging necklines, miniskirts/shorts, or those jumper-dress-things that are like a skirt with suspenders that seem to be popping up in windows everywhere. So that leaves me with about 4 things to choose from, which is a pretty good narrowing-down, I think.
Just a side note on the purse thing above: I have had the same purse for 3 years. And before that? The same purse. I just replaced it with a new the same purse. It has a cell phone pocket on the outside, which is all I really want in an accessory. I mean really. How do you find your new uber-cool cell phone when it's buried in a bag that would serve well as a parachute in a plane-crash emergency? Jesse need not worry about making a bag budget in the future. Just EVERYTHING ELSE.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Work Blog
I just got done sitting my ass through a 45 minute "Survey Review" meeting at work. "Survey Review" means just just that. There was a survey in October. They made a powerpoint of the results, and it was narrated by an exceedingly soft-spoken hispanic woman who mostly said "umm" and read off the screen. And the survey says.... people want better training, but they would like to keep their jobs. Jenny says... duh.
I did find out that my sister has to take the same survey because right in the middle of the "Review", the survey company was all "LOOK WHAT WE CAN DO" and listed her major corporation along with the other major corporations they survey. After all this surveying... shouldn't this company pretty much know what people want? I think the corps just want to be able to say "in the last 18 months, 1% of our employees are more likely to stay for plus or minus another 2 to 3 years".
The "Survey Review" was so traumatic and cold that I had to buy myself warm food instead of cold salad at the uber-hip lunch truck, so called because the little old Asian man who hasn't been cutting his hair recently and wears 90's-era "sporty" sunglasses with reflective lenses and a camouflage dollars apron listens solely to KIIS FM, the same station that plays mostly Chris Brown (not anymore!!) and Lady Gaga all day. It also plays Ryan Seacrest in the Morning, a show so terrible and shallow that one cannot HELP but listen to it. There will be another blog about this. I wanted so badly to segue to a completely different subject, but then I'd have to think up a title that would encompass cold misery + delicious pasta + my love/hate relationship with Ryan Seacrest in the Morning.
Pasta = orgasmically good. Not any pasta. Most is boring. But uber-hip truck pasta is almost worth letting myself go for. The only reason I refrain from buying it everyday is because then I would blow my budget for hookers and blow.
So I'm eating my pasta at my desk, (pathetic? maybe), writing a blog, and researching the bizarre names that people in Turkey and Italy think up for their denim fabrics. In English. I mean, it would be understandable if they named things oddly because Turkish is an odd language - I think. But to name a certain line of denim one of the following is just... oh, ESL:
MARVEL LIZARD
DRAKE HAZZARD
SKUNK CRISPY
DICKERSILVER (ITALY)
And, my personal favorite:
COWPUNCHER SECONDHAND STRETCH (TURKEY)
I did find out that my sister has to take the same survey because right in the middle of the "Review", the survey company was all "LOOK WHAT WE CAN DO" and listed her major corporation along with the other major corporations they survey. After all this surveying... shouldn't this company pretty much know what people want? I think the corps just want to be able to say "in the last 18 months, 1% of our employees are more likely to stay for plus or minus another 2 to 3 years".
The "Survey Review" was so traumatic and cold that I had to buy myself warm food instead of cold salad at the uber-hip lunch truck, so called because the little old Asian man who hasn't been cutting his hair recently and wears 90's-era "sporty" sunglasses with reflective lenses and a camouflage dollars apron listens solely to KIIS FM, the same station that plays mostly Chris Brown (not anymore!!) and Lady Gaga all day. It also plays Ryan Seacrest in the Morning, a show so terrible and shallow that one cannot HELP but listen to it. There will be another blog about this. I wanted so badly to segue to a completely different subject, but then I'd have to think up a title that would encompass cold misery + delicious pasta + my love/hate relationship with Ryan Seacrest in the Morning.
Pasta = orgasmically good. Not any pasta. Most is boring. But uber-hip truck pasta is almost worth letting myself go for. The only reason I refrain from buying it everyday is because then I would blow my budget for hookers and blow.
So I'm eating my pasta at my desk, (pathetic? maybe), writing a blog, and researching the bizarre names that people in Turkey and Italy think up for their denim fabrics. In English. I mean, it would be understandable if they named things oddly because Turkish is an odd language - I think. But to name a certain line of denim one of the following is just... oh, ESL:
MARVEL LIZARD
DRAKE HAZZARD
SKUNK CRISPY
DICKERSILVER (ITALY)
And, my personal favorite:
COWPUNCHER SECONDHAND STRETCH (TURKEY)
Monday, February 9, 2009
Saturday, February 7, 2009
:The Apron
I just signed up for an account with the Long Beach Parks and Recreation, so that I can take an "Adult Beginners Sewing:The Apron" class. I just missed ":The Tote Bag", which I would maybe have rather made than :The Apron, but then again maybe not because
I want to wear pretty wings somewhere too! (furious internet searching). Hm. I'd have to find somewhere to wear them to. (more searching, coming up empty). Hm. HALLOWEEN. Also, questions to husband about his interest/loathing of Renaissance Faires. He would only go if there was mutton involved - no joke.
Then:
I can't wear ONLY wings. I want to wear a PRETTY DRESS. (furious internet searching, coming up with whores and fat ladies, and one good website with ideas) There is a dearth of non-prostitution-related dress availability - I will have to MAKE one! Yay!! (more furious searching for patterns). WAIT. I don't actually know how to sew more than a semi-straight line, usually not actually attaching the fabric pieces to each other. UH OH.
HENCE, the current furious internet searching for local sewing classes, and my future :The Apron. I'm hoping that I get the pin number RIGHT NOW, so that I can sign up for classes RIGHT NOW, and by October or so, I might be able to actually understand how to attach a sleeve to anything. Also, so that I won't lose interest when next week I decide that I'd rather take a crash course on applying facial tattos.
- the husband has an obsession with :The Tote Bags, and I would NEVER have been able to get rid of it
- I think we could use a :The Apron around the house, and
- I bet that sewing a :The Apron would involving making :The Ruffles, and since my recent interest in sewing is long and convoluted and like a ruffle (also involving potential ruffles), it might be a little more apropo.
I want to wear pretty wings somewhere too! (furious internet searching). Hm. I'd have to find somewhere to wear them to. (more searching, coming up empty). Hm. HALLOWEEN. Also, questions to husband about his interest/loathing of Renaissance Faires. He would only go if there was mutton involved - no joke.
Then:
I can't wear ONLY wings. I want to wear a PRETTY DRESS. (furious internet searching, coming up with whores and fat ladies, and one good website with ideas) There is a dearth of non-prostitution-related dress availability - I will have to MAKE one! Yay!! (more furious searching for patterns). WAIT. I don't actually know how to sew more than a semi-straight line, usually not actually attaching the fabric pieces to each other. UH OH.
HENCE, the current furious internet searching for local sewing classes, and my future :The Apron. I'm hoping that I get the pin number RIGHT NOW, so that I can sign up for classes RIGHT NOW, and by October or so, I might be able to actually understand how to attach a sleeve to anything. Also, so that I won't lose interest when next week I decide that I'd rather take a crash course on applying facial tattos.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
What the Funch? (Lameness, past and present)
Funch, by the way, is a substitute curse word I found on this website:
Utah Baby Namer
Which was brought to my attention by my Texas bff, who found a link from Dooce, the most entertaining blogger in the world.
This website in motherfunching hilarious. Be sure to click on the "Polygamy Pin" link.
I've since been renaming all of my friends Mormonames on g-chat. I now hold frequent conversations with Bridger A-10 Grandfield, Merzaydee Williams, Jnard Stimatze, and Abcde Mack. I'm particularly proud of the names selected for myself: Jennyfivetina, and Jessit, both of which are exceedingly appropriate, I think.
I don't know where this penchant for renaming things temporarily in a social'tard manner comes from, but I've been doing it my whole (adult!) life. Two particular other instances stand out: at one point, for a reason I cannot remember, we all named ourselves after beans. I was Pork'n, if I recall. I had friends Navy, Pinto, and Lima. We never once used these names, but I distinctly remember this happening.
The other time, I remember, was for a very specific purpose: a friend was having a competition with some myspace ninny to see how many people they could each give to re-title their myspace moniker with a name involving bread or bread products. The group was called the "loaf legion". I was Wry Bread (CLEVER!!!), with friends Flat Bread (guess her general cup size :), Loafthansa, Stale Crusty Loaf, Pita Bread, Banana Bread, and the most clever name: I Like Bread. I know there were more, and more clever, names, but this was so many years ago I can't recall. I know he won, and interninny never showed her face on his profile again.
What does this say about me, this naming of things and friends in clever-yet-socially-restricted ways? Prolly that I wasn't popular in high school. (So true!). It also says my pets will always have ridiculous names, though they may be repeated once I get old. It says that if I'm willing to blog about it, I must STILL be a little bit of a social retard on the inside, while floundering in my small-town sense of style on the outside.
Utah Baby Namer
Which was brought to my attention by my Texas bff, who found a link from Dooce, the most entertaining blogger in the world.
This website in motherfunching hilarious. Be sure to click on the "Polygamy Pin" link.
I've since been renaming all of my friends Mormonames on g-chat. I now hold frequent conversations with Bridger A-10 Grandfield, Merzaydee Williams, Jnard Stimatze, and Abcde Mack. I'm particularly proud of the names selected for myself: Jennyfivetina, and Jessit, both of which are exceedingly appropriate, I think.
I don't know where this penchant for renaming things temporarily in a social'tard manner comes from, but I've been doing it my whole (adult!) life. Two particular other instances stand out: at one point, for a reason I cannot remember, we all named ourselves after beans. I was Pork'n, if I recall. I had friends Navy, Pinto, and Lima. We never once used these names, but I distinctly remember this happening.
The other time, I remember, was for a very specific purpose: a friend was having a competition with some myspace ninny to see how many people they could each give to re-title their myspace moniker with a name involving bread or bread products. The group was called the "loaf legion". I was Wry Bread (CLEVER!!!), with friends Flat Bread (guess her general cup size :), Loafthansa, Stale Crusty Loaf, Pita Bread, Banana Bread, and the most clever name: I Like Bread. I know there were more, and more clever, names, but this was so many years ago I can't recall. I know he won, and interninny never showed her face on his profile again.
What does this say about me, this naming of things and friends in clever-yet-socially-restricted ways? Prolly that I wasn't popular in high school. (So true!). It also says my pets will always have ridiculous names, though they may be repeated once I get old. It says that if I'm willing to blog about it, I must STILL be a little bit of a social retard on the inside, while floundering in my small-town sense of style on the outside.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
The MotherFunching Facebook 25 Things.
You know you like it. You know you read it already on facebook. Now it is recorded here for future "posterity" and not wanting to write two things in one day:
Random Facts:
1) Both sets of my grandparents, maternal and paternal, have named their dogs serially since I can remember. I.e, Dad's have had Racci 1-4, and Mom's have had Pixies 1-8. This forebodes poorly for my future pets.
2) I have no middle name. This was ostensibly so I could take my last name as my middle name once I got married. Only now, if I were to combine the names, I would be Jennifer Crist Smith. Say it out loud. I dare you. Preface it with the first name "Mary." Not plausible if I ever wanted to be taken seriously.
3) As with Megan, when I first started Lindy Hopping, I would stay out and practice and cavort at a house with a dance floor until 3 or 4 in the morning 3 or 4 nights a week and then work the next day, leading to a lethargy I didn't even know I had until I actually started sleeping. I toned it down in later years, but those times were INCREDIBLE. That's also where I met Jesse for the first time.
4) I had a breast reduction when I was 21. I lost 8 pounds.
5) I lived in Paraguay for 6 months right after I graduated high school, not having ever taken a Spanish class. It was culture shock, and looking back now I can't believe I jumped into that not knowing the basics of how adulthood worked. I didn't know anything about boys, about socially acceptable behaviour, about saying "no", about true and real boredom, or about myself. While I learned one or two of those things while I was there, the rest were regrettably learned much later in life than ought to have been the case. **Note: the Spanish remains handy.
6) I worked in private aviation for 4 years right after that. Let me tell you! Being cute and working near airplanes gets you places, literally. One time I flew to San Diego, ate at Claim Jumpers, and flew back. Another time, I got a crush on a crew member of a WWII bomber - a B-24 - that was flying around the country. After he left on the other plane - a B-17 - while the B-24 stopped for repairs, I decided it would be fine to just hitchhike on a WWII bomber with a bunch of semi-strange men to meet said crush in Oregon, with no real idea of a way home. It was AWESOME. Another other time, I rode passenger in a helicopter that could fly sideways. We chased cows.
7) I can squirt water through the gap in my teeth over 6 feet.
8) I have the worst hand-eye coordination of anyone you've ever met. I can't catch, and I sure as dirt can't throw. It is the bane of my father's child-rearing days, that he spawned children and one of them is utterly useless when it comes to anything that involves aim. You can ask anyone who's ever seen me - it's like I'm trying to throw it at the target, and my hand thinks otherwise and tosses it weakly across my body, only to spin lifelessy and angrily at least 35 degrees off from the direction I intended.
9) My sister are nothing alike except for our intelligence, we both have freckles (but they're different), and the line of our nose in profile. And yet, we never fought.
10) I have never been to Disneyland within memory
11) My favorite friend at work calls me Whoaday, because her daughter at one point decided that yelling "Put me down, Whoaday!!!" was the polite way to ask. The moniker has just stuck since then.
12) The only people from high school who would recognize me on the street are Jonathon Wolheim because we live together, and Sy Olson because we had lunch a couple of times in college. And Jeremy Walsh, because we developed a mutual friend. I was friends with none of these people in high school.
13) I work at a high-end fashion denim company, but I never wore jeans before I started there. In fact, most days I feel like an utter frump because my creativity with clothing does not extend beyond "things that generally match." This was never a problem anywhere else in the world, but now I look like what I am: from a small town. It makes me self conscious sometimes, until I go home.
14) I took ballet for 7 years until I developed human hip dysplasia. Not really, but something went wrong up in there. Who knows why dancing swing isn't as lethal as ballet, but I won't complain. I've been swing dancing on and off for 8 years - I knew Cid when he had his anime haircut and TA'd at Chico State.
15) One of the reasons I know that forces outside of just humans are working in the world is the little old lady we take care of. Story: Back when I worked as a jewelry designer in Chico, I did a diamond upgrade on the wife-ring of a prominent chiropractor in the area. Small-talking, which is my forte, I mentioned that my boyfriend was thinking of attending the same college in LA that he had attended. Fast forward a month or two, to a visit back home. Jesse is talking about going and meeting some chiropractors to get his foot in the door and learn some things, most specifically about this chiropractor who is friends with the jewelry store owner, because of his impressive resume and seemingly great practice, and the fact that he knew the owner-man. He never did it, but he always was thinking about it. Fast forward again to 7 months later, when I receive a call out of the blue from an utter stranger. Who is it? You guessed it (or not) - THE chiropractor. He remembered me from my small-talk prowess and utter trustworthiness and boyfriend going into chiropractic. His mom lives in the same town as the college, and needs a little takin' care of. So now we take care of her, and have dinner dates with the (exceedingly wonderful) chiropractor and his wife on visits to Chico. If this random series of events an occurrences does not evince some sort of supernatural fate-meddling, I don't know what does.
16) When I was youngish (16), I always imagined I would die before my 21st birthday because I literally could not fathom a life beyond that. I was convinced that my fate was short, and had accepted that. My lack of imagination did not kill me, as I thought it would.
17) I have a trade degree in Advanced Jewelry Design and Manufacture (II). I can solder very tiny things with very high melting points very well. Prolly not so well anymore, as it's difficult to maintain your soldering equipment in a second-story apartment.
18) I watch only about 10 or fewer movies a year, because I hate going to movies or wasting my at-home time watching them. Apparently, making facebook lists is less of a waste of my time.
19) Even though I have only been in his presence for a total of maybe 4 or 5 months over the span of 4 years, and communicate solely via g-chat, I would still count Glen Hinkle as one of my best friends. He's seen me grow up, and vice versa.
20) As gregarious as I can seem, on the inside I am still very shy and only let people so far in for fear that they will not accept what's underneath. This is, sadly, true for most everyone I know.
21) My husband REALLY didn't like me when we met, and for a year or two thereafter. I grew on him, apparently.
22) I have a serious addiction to craft supplies. I always want more, as if there were some way I could actually USE all of it at any point in my life. As if there were a natural disaster, and my preparedness plan would include 5 kinds of glue, infinite marking utensils of infinite colors, paper scraps, a length of aquarium tubing, some barbie parts, a tiny hammer, and a box of acrylic paint with a broken french coffee maker for a brush holder. Also some fabric for a fairy costume. Lookout! Someone is bombing Los Angeles! OH NO! LET ME USE SOME OF THIS WATER-BASED (archival quality) GLUE TO SAVE YOU! I'll make a rope out of this airy, silver fabric and you can lower your children to me! I can entertain them for DAYS!! I can use this non-toxic acrylic paint to staunch the bleeding!
23) My husband has never given me a single item. Not even a wedding ring.
24) I did not wear pants from the age of 6 to the age of 14. Not once. Not even when it snowed. I wore those cable-knit tights under my dress.
25) Sometimes I feel like my love for other people is a palpable blanket that extends from me to them. I don't know why I think this, but it seems like something I can tangibly feel, and that they ought to be able to feel it too.
Random Facts:
1) Both sets of my grandparents, maternal and paternal, have named their dogs serially since I can remember. I.e, Dad's have had Racci 1-4, and Mom's have had Pixies 1-8. This forebodes poorly for my future pets.
2) I have no middle name. This was ostensibly so I could take my last name as my middle name once I got married. Only now, if I were to combine the names, I would be Jennifer Crist Smith. Say it out loud. I dare you. Preface it with the first name "Mary." Not plausible if I ever wanted to be taken seriously.
3) As with Megan, when I first started Lindy Hopping, I would stay out and practice and cavort at a house with a dance floor until 3 or 4 in the morning 3 or 4 nights a week and then work the next day, leading to a lethargy I didn't even know I had until I actually started sleeping. I toned it down in later years, but those times were INCREDIBLE. That's also where I met Jesse for the first time.
4) I had a breast reduction when I was 21. I lost 8 pounds.
5) I lived in Paraguay for 6 months right after I graduated high school, not having ever taken a Spanish class. It was culture shock, and looking back now I can't believe I jumped into that not knowing the basics of how adulthood worked. I didn't know anything about boys, about socially acceptable behaviour, about saying "no", about true and real boredom, or about myself. While I learned one or two of those things while I was there, the rest were regrettably learned much later in life than ought to have been the case. **Note: the Spanish remains handy.
6) I worked in private aviation for 4 years right after that. Let me tell you! Being cute and working near airplanes gets you places, literally. One time I flew to San Diego, ate at Claim Jumpers, and flew back. Another time, I got a crush on a crew member of a WWII bomber - a B-24 - that was flying around the country. After he left on the other plane - a B-17 - while the B-24 stopped for repairs, I decided it would be fine to just hitchhike on a WWII bomber with a bunch of semi-strange men to meet said crush in Oregon, with no real idea of a way home. It was AWESOME. Another other time, I rode passenger in a helicopter that could fly sideways. We chased cows.
7) I can squirt water through the gap in my teeth over 6 feet.
8) I have the worst hand-eye coordination of anyone you've ever met. I can't catch, and I sure as dirt can't throw. It is the bane of my father's child-rearing days, that he spawned children and one of them is utterly useless when it comes to anything that involves aim. You can ask anyone who's ever seen me - it's like I'm trying to throw it at the target, and my hand thinks otherwise and tosses it weakly across my body, only to spin lifelessy and angrily at least 35 degrees off from the direction I intended.
9) My sister are nothing alike except for our intelligence, we both have freckles (but they're different), and the line of our nose in profile. And yet, we never fought.
10) I have never been to Disneyland within memory
11) My favorite friend at work calls me Whoaday, because her daughter at one point decided that yelling "Put me down, Whoaday!!!" was the polite way to ask. The moniker has just stuck since then.
12) The only people from high school who would recognize me on the street are Jonathon Wolheim because we live together, and Sy Olson because we had lunch a couple of times in college. And Jeremy Walsh, because we developed a mutual friend. I was friends with none of these people in high school.
13) I work at a high-end fashion denim company, but I never wore jeans before I started there. In fact, most days I feel like an utter frump because my creativity with clothing does not extend beyond "things that generally match." This was never a problem anywhere else in the world, but now I look like what I am: from a small town. It makes me self conscious sometimes, until I go home.
14) I took ballet for 7 years until I developed human hip dysplasia. Not really, but something went wrong up in there. Who knows why dancing swing isn't as lethal as ballet, but I won't complain. I've been swing dancing on and off for 8 years - I knew Cid when he had his anime haircut and TA'd at Chico State.
15) One of the reasons I know that forces outside of just humans are working in the world is the little old lady we take care of. Story: Back when I worked as a jewelry designer in Chico, I did a diamond upgrade on the wife-ring of a prominent chiropractor in the area. Small-talking, which is my forte, I mentioned that my boyfriend was thinking of attending the same college in LA that he had attended. Fast forward a month or two, to a visit back home. Jesse is talking about going and meeting some chiropractors to get his foot in the door and learn some things, most specifically about this chiropractor who is friends with the jewelry store owner, because of his impressive resume and seemingly great practice, and the fact that he knew the owner-man. He never did it, but he always was thinking about it. Fast forward again to 7 months later, when I receive a call out of the blue from an utter stranger. Who is it? You guessed it (or not) - THE chiropractor. He remembered me from my small-talk prowess and utter trustworthiness and boyfriend going into chiropractic. His mom lives in the same town as the college, and needs a little takin' care of. So now we take care of her, and have dinner dates with the (exceedingly wonderful) chiropractor and his wife on visits to Chico. If this random series of events an occurrences does not evince some sort of supernatural fate-meddling, I don't know what does.
16) When I was youngish (16), I always imagined I would die before my 21st birthday because I literally could not fathom a life beyond that. I was convinced that my fate was short, and had accepted that. My lack of imagination did not kill me, as I thought it would.
17) I have a trade degree in Advanced Jewelry Design and Manufacture (II). I can solder very tiny things with very high melting points very well. Prolly not so well anymore, as it's difficult to maintain your soldering equipment in a second-story apartment.
18) I watch only about 10 or fewer movies a year, because I hate going to movies or wasting my at-home time watching them. Apparently, making facebook lists is less of a waste of my time.
19) Even though I have only been in his presence for a total of maybe 4 or 5 months over the span of 4 years, and communicate solely via g-chat, I would still count Glen Hinkle as one of my best friends. He's seen me grow up, and vice versa.
20) As gregarious as I can seem, on the inside I am still very shy and only let people so far in for fear that they will not accept what's underneath. This is, sadly, true for most everyone I know.
21) My husband REALLY didn't like me when we met, and for a year or two thereafter. I grew on him, apparently.
22) I have a serious addiction to craft supplies. I always want more, as if there were some way I could actually USE all of it at any point in my life. As if there were a natural disaster, and my preparedness plan would include 5 kinds of glue, infinite marking utensils of infinite colors, paper scraps, a length of aquarium tubing, some barbie parts, a tiny hammer, and a box of acrylic paint with a broken french coffee maker for a brush holder. Also some fabric for a fairy costume. Lookout! Someone is bombing Los Angeles! OH NO! LET ME USE SOME OF THIS WATER-BASED (archival quality) GLUE TO SAVE YOU! I'll make a rope out of this airy, silver fabric and you can lower your children to me! I can entertain them for DAYS!! I can use this non-toxic acrylic paint to staunch the bleeding!
23) My husband has never given me a single item. Not even a wedding ring.
24) I did not wear pants from the age of 6 to the age of 14. Not once. Not even when it snowed. I wore those cable-knit tights under my dress.
25) Sometimes I feel like my love for other people is a palpable blanket that extends from me to them. I don't know why I think this, but it seems like something I can tangibly feel, and that they ought to be able to feel it too.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Denesting
I'm finding more and more areas of my life that, when viewed from the perspective of someone normal (i.e. not me), resemble more the neatly boxed ravings of a faded and hysterical housewife/crazy cat lady than items belonging to a 27 year old occasionally hip newlywed. I believe I have mentioned my whole plastic shoebox of Sculpey.
In rebellion of my future fluffy-bathrobed self, I chucked at least three boxes of "things" that I have rarely/never used, and stared longingly/loathefully at others that I know I prolly won't use but CANNOT get rid of because I like them so much. I did, however, chuck the Sculpey and the 1 gallon bag of brightly dyed maribou feathers that have been gathering dust. When I say "chucked," I mean "donated to a friend with a 3-year-old daughter", which is about the age appropriateness of some of my belongings. Feather boa, anyone? No? How about a package of Barbie accessories that I once thought would make cool earrings? Still no? Hm.
I found the BOX of photos and crap that I brought home with me from my sojourn in Paraguay that have been slowly disintegrating from lack of love and album. So I went to the trusty big-box store down the street to get one of those photo-albums like my mom always had where everything is held in place by STATIC. Did you know they don't make those anymore!?! Did you also know that M.F.ing scrapbooking has taken over the females of America like a Borg hive-mind?!? You can't even buy REGULAR photo albums for less than a scrapbook album with NO HELP in attaching your pictures. This, my friends, is a scam. A very crafty scam.
Now I have to GLUE DOWN the photos of me with various dark-skinned men drinking tea out of cow horns, and the heavy coins, and the brainwash books they taught the children there. I have to invest in sticky bits to position my 4x6 photos of children flipping off the camera in a grid, instead of sliding them in. THIS IS CRAP. If I'd have wanted to start scrapbooking, I would have started selling plasma years ago and I wouldn't be married. I would already be wearing the fluffy pink bathrobe, gluing together paper to form memories of events that I would never have participated in. A whole page for my cat Dingo. Another for the cat Taco. You see the trend. THIS IS SCRAP.
In rebellion of my future fluffy-bathrobed self, I chucked at least three boxes of "things" that I have rarely/never used, and stared longingly/loathefully at others that I know I prolly won't use but CANNOT get rid of because I like them so much. I did, however, chuck the Sculpey and the 1 gallon bag of brightly dyed maribou feathers that have been gathering dust. When I say "chucked," I mean "donated to a friend with a 3-year-old daughter", which is about the age appropriateness of some of my belongings. Feather boa, anyone? No? How about a package of Barbie accessories that I once thought would make cool earrings? Still no? Hm.
I found the BOX of photos and crap that I brought home with me from my sojourn in Paraguay that have been slowly disintegrating from lack of love and album. So I went to the trusty big-box store down the street to get one of those photo-albums like my mom always had where everything is held in place by STATIC. Did you know they don't make those anymore!?! Did you also know that M.F.ing scrapbooking has taken over the females of America like a Borg hive-mind?!? You can't even buy REGULAR photo albums for less than a scrapbook album with NO HELP in attaching your pictures. This, my friends, is a scam. A very crafty scam.
Now I have to GLUE DOWN the photos of me with various dark-skinned men drinking tea out of cow horns, and the heavy coins, and the brainwash books they taught the children there. I have to invest in sticky bits to position my 4x6 photos of children flipping off the camera in a grid, instead of sliding them in. THIS IS CRAP. If I'd have wanted to start scrapbooking, I would have started selling plasma years ago and I wouldn't be married. I would already be wearing the fluffy pink bathrobe, gluing together paper to form memories of events that I would never have participated in. A whole page for my cat Dingo. Another for the cat Taco. You see the trend. THIS IS SCRAP.
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