Don't Shake the Baby

The Heat

2009-07-29T08:02:00.000-07:00

My home range has been reduced to the area of a double bed. Like everyone else in Seattle, I can't handle the heat. This means we are confined to our basement room with ceiling fan on high, venturing out only to grab cold liquid or popcicles from the sauna upstairs.

Banshee is the only one who remains on the top floor proving how deeply disturbed she is. Banshee is a black cat with developmental issues, her current MO is laying in the hottest part of the house in direct sunlight mewwing intensely as if to say, "HELP I'm BOILING." And while I would love to help, I refuse to lock her in a nice cool space if all I get for it is some scratches and fur cloud large enough to black out Corpus Christi. Suffer, little dumb one, suffer.

Cutting the Fat

2009-07-23T13:08:00.000-07:00

Cake gone and flowers out. Saving about 500 dollars. Not bad. Instead there will be cupcakes and with any luck I won't be thrown in the slammer on my wedding day for stealing the hydranges from the neighbor, "That would be something BORROWED officer."

Here's hoping Matilda learns to walk in 52 days.

TMI

2009-06-16T14:30:00.000-07:00

There is an expiration date on the human body, we all know this, literature is written about our mortality. There are paintings, songs, yachts for the psychoanalyst. The much less discussed, “best if used by” is the date that most consumes me these days. I believe mine has come and gone...likely some time in April or May of 2009.

Since that date, I have been hit with a massive flu that took about 4 weeks to fully recover. Follow that up with a crushing depression that must be hormone related but it comes at the wrong time of my cycle. Began having joint pain regularly. Got a case of the yeasties and now to top it all off i have a lump in my breast.

FU forty. FU and the horse on which you ride.

Shake the Baby

2009-06-04T09:33:00.000-07:00

A friend reminded me that this blog exists. Turns out since its inception I have my very own baby to shake...don't worry I use this. M has been around for about 7 months now and lucky us she was a sleeper from the start, so I have to say the whole baby things appears to be easy cheesy from my POV (waiting for anvil to fall on my head).

The hardest part is letting go of the freedom. I miss being able to do what I want when I want. Life is still possible it just requires a lot more coordination. And if coordination isn't possible I just slip in elements of my past life packaged up in 15 minutes increments throughout the day. Who knew that a taking dump would be viewed as a bit of a break? Throw in the new Maker or VF and it's a freaking spa day.

I suppose I should say I wouldn't change a thing and mostly that is true. Still I wish someone would invent a baby storage locker. I mean they are just sleeping its a sort of suspended animation, why not use that time for a little adult recreation? Perfect time for a cocktail and a show. What they don't know can't hurt them right?

Oh the pressure.

2007-07-31T08:48:00.000-07:00

My weekly trips to the grocery store always include the great hunt for sales on meat, stocking up on bubbly water and the purchase of a modest amount of fresh vegetables.

Vegetables generally purchased are broccoli, romaine lettuce, string beans, english peas (in season), radishes and scallions along with carrots and celery when necessary. Occasionally there will be a kale or squash product that makes the cut.

Lately I've noticed that none of these are being eaten. I open the fridge and avoid eye contact with anything green or leafy.

This morning I believe I saw an ear of corn mock me from the depths of decomposing murk.

Send Pinkie Right Over

2007-07-28T10:28:00.000-07:00

I am a huge fan of public art.  San Francisco has some of the most beautiful murals just hanging out in various nooks and crannies.  When I lived there I went on a bike tour of the mission to see some of the most stunning homages to society ever made. Diego has a couple, but they are tucked neatly away in buildings. My personal favorite is the Woman's Building on 18th. The entire exterior of this four story building interweaves common female archetypes in a colorful cyclone of movement and wisdom.  The first time I saw it was after it's restoration in the late 90s.  I just stood across the narrow alley breathing in the waves of civic responsibility endowed to me by the artists.

In Seattle we have a sculpture garden, I haven't officially visited, but there is a giant rolly eraser just off Elliot that makes me giggle each time I pass it.  And I was dumb founded by the Yellow Arrow Project based in New York City where people posted yellow stickers with numbers on them.  If you found one, you text the number to yellow arrow and back would come the posters composition regarding that space, building or view.

I've wanted, for quite some time, to create something, perform something or build something of a public nature.  I have lots of ideas but I've got a motivational disorder, ha!  But yesterday, I had the best time ever when a group of friends and I played a spontaneous game of Red Rover in old Ballard outside of Kings Hardware.

Since we are not allowed to smoke in bars anymore, we were gathered outside the building chatting and smoking.  I started "popping and locking" (in a way that proves my severe lack of popping and locking know-how) for the people sitting in the window.  This some how became a group activity and without prompting quickly evolved into the linking of hands and the school yard chant, "Red Rover Red Rover send Checkered Shirt right over"  This request was sung out to complete strangers has they walked down the sidewalk.  Some would walk around, but the vast majority heard the call, set their mark and dashed into our linked arms.  Grown adults, men and women.

The best part was, of course, our ability to  block even the most  aggressive attempt thus maintaining our undefeated status...  really it was the recognition in peoples eyes when they heard of call.  You could almost see the memories fire up and the complete joy grade schoolers seem to have cornered the market on, surge through the body as our competitors took flight.

I highly recommend the activity to you all.

Nothing in Life is Free

2007-07-27T10:00:00.000-07:00

I really hate cellphone companies. Why is it that we have to buy new phones every freaking year? I've had Cingular forever since I get this awesome corporate discount. Basically I get 700 anytime minutes, two lines, free calling after 9 and free mobile to mobile and I pay 50 bucks a month. I'm not a big phone talker, so this is a good deal for me and my mom, who, by the way is still afraid to use the cellphone too much. She calls me everytime she's been on the phone for more than 10 consecutive minutes talking with my aunt on a weekend who is also on our network...sigh.

So Cingular buys AT&T and then they become the NEW AT&T and now they want me to upgrade my network becasue, get this, it's faster. Faster? Yes, faster. So, I can hear people faster? On the phone? Faster.

Um okay, so what do I have to do? Well, sign up for another two years, pay MORE money and we will make you pay for incoming text messages, how's that? uh...I'm thinking no. But explain how this is good for me again?

It's Faster.

Right. I'm hanging up now.

The Gnomes Have It.

2007-07-26T14:39:00.000-07:00

The holiday known as the Birthday is my absolute favorite. I love celebrating my friends usually with random acts of public embarrassment, chocolate cake shots and home made crappy gifts. It is particularly enjoyable when I find that perfect gift. Earlier this year I when to knitty.com and found these badass space invader socks that I KNEW must be made for my friend Shanny. If you know her then you know I'm right. She's an absolute total old skool video game dork....and a scientist. That's right a Scientist. But now she's a scientist with SPACE INVADER SOCKS!!!! She'll probably get a raise.

So I love me some birthdays. Especially when it is mine. Take for example....TODAY. SAAAWWEEEEEET! And like all self respecting Leo's I always have a great time on Kelly-mas, in no small part due to my friends. Like, Shanny, who created a photo omage of the life and times of the lowely tea light gnome:

Did I say my friends were awesome?

Wonder Twin Powers Activate

2007-07-24T10:55:00.000-07:00

In the form of a Blog. Shake the baby and throw out the bath water, we are back and ready to write.

I have only this to say, A Capella karaoke is the way of the future. A beautiful social experiment that requires mp3 player, ear phones and a party of 15 fully loaded and ready to rock....oh and a microphone. The beauty of it all is that only the singer with the earphones hears the music. The crowd provides their own internal drum track and bleat out the back up vocals and guitar riffs.

Do it.

You win some, you lose some

2006-12-14T08:52:00.000-08:00

Oh crap.

Thank god.

Please try our nachos

2006-06-26T19:30:00.001-07:00

I started this post in June, and then saved it to finish later.
Now I can't remember for the life of me why I chose this title.

What nachos? Who was asking me to try them? Was I high when I started this entry?
Holy jeeze, so many unanswered questions and I'll never know.

These are the days of my lives. Err, life.

...and 3 Ugly Ones

2006-03-21T12:12:00.000-08:00

I've never been much good at being a girl. Growing up, my brother was who I spent most of my time with simply because my two sisters were 4 and 6 years older (and thus, way too cool to be seen with me).

As a result, I was quite a tomboy. I played every sport you could think of, even playing on a YMCA basketball team in the 2nd grade because there weren't enough girls to form a YWCA team. I wanted a BMX instead of a Schwinn, turning my nose up at any bike that would look stupid going over a dirt mound (which we considered "ramps"). I could climb almost any tree faster than most boys at my school. My grandmother once told me to quit picking my scabs because 'when I was a young lady and wore stockings I would be sorry I had all of those scars'. I remember turning away and scornfully muttering to myself, "I will never be a young lady". You get the idea.

Through most of college and into my post-college years, I never really wore makeup, never gave a shit about how my hair looked, and only painted my nails when I wanted to avoid studying for tests. And yet I wondered why boys never paid attention to me. After all, I was funny, goddammit. And smart. And would do my damnedest to beat them at arm wrestling even if I knew I couldn't.

And then, came my epiphany.

A co-worker of mine knew I liked going to see bands, and she had a crash on a boy. In a band. Would I please come along as the wing[wo]man?

I'm a supportive friend, so of course I did. We agreed to meet outside the club at 10. I arrived in my standard uniform: Chuck Taylors, check. Jeans, check. Ironic little league tshirt, check. Hooded sweatshirt? Of course, it's cold out. When I got there, she was standing outside, shivering in a tank top, tight black pants, high heels, and a crocheted sweater. Her hair had been curled into ringlets, she was in full makeup, and she was surrounded by boys.

Ahhhhh...I think I get it now.

After that night, I dabbled a bit in the mascara. And then I worked my way into the lipstick, which was generally of a soft pink color so as to not to make me appear hoor-ish. Eventually I made my way into blush, perfumes, eyeshadow, and waxing. I am now a legitimate girl, yes?

So legitmate, in fact, that my husband frequently rolls his eyes when I bring home a new product. But I know that I have officially entered girlyhood when I start to swear by certain products and companies.

For example, I only allow myself to be waxed by Belinda. I only get facials done at SkinLogic because they aren't too foofy, and because I spend most of the time laughing my ass off with the estheticians, who are hi-larious. Benefit makes the best blush ever (it smells like roses, and works on your lips too), and I only use their mascara. I am a recent convert of this product (thanks, Shelly!), which smells of lavender and makes my skin look great. Oh, and adidas makes the best anti-perspirant ever. I am not kidding.

But yesterday I truly blossomed into my emerging womanhood. For I bought myself an ionic hairdryer.

For all of you women who wonder why your hair is so soft after you leave the salon? It's not the shampoo they use, nor is it their fancy conditioner. It's not even the fact that they comb your hair a billion, trillion times. It's this thing.

Now mind you, I stood in front of these stupid blowdryers yesterday for a good 5 minutes, then paced around the store for another 10, trying to talk myself out of this purchase. But I did my homework and read as many reviews as possible, and they all seemed to say the same thing: believe the hype. These things will rock your head in a way you never thought possible.

So finally I broke down and grabbed this dryer, because if I was going to be a sucker, by God, I was only going to be a $130 sucker (you can spend as much as $300 for these things). And also? I could be a traveling sucker as well because it folds up. Isn't that handy? Then I got in line, where I continued to curse myself for my stupidity and basically feel like an asshole.

But today, I am a changed woman. After showering I begrudgingly plugged my new dryer in, and went to town. And I gotta tell you, this thing really is awesome. My hair dried really fast, and it is incredibly soft. And smooth. With fewer flyaways. Just as advertised! Just think what it would be like if I'd spent $300! Oh, to know the bliss!

So here I am, proselytizing to the masses. Because if a non-girl such as myself believes in this shit, it's got to be good.

Now if only I could find a pair of heels that don't make me want to cut my own legs off....

Kill the Wabbit....

2006-02-14T12:06:00.000-08:00

I don't want to belabor the whole Dick Cheney shooting incident too much as people far funnier than I have already commented on it, but I think Scooter Libby might want to think twice if Dick invites him out to his cabin for some hunting.

I'm just sayin'.

Bovine S&M

2006-01-20T08:44:00.000-08:00

Today our cafeteria has a "Braised Pot Roast" special for lunch.
I glanced at the sign quickly on my way in to grab some cereal, and I could have sworn it said "Bruised Pot Roast".

Braised, bruised, po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe. It doesn't matter. It's bound to give me food poisoning either way.

Everything I know is wrong

2006-01-15T19:54:00.000-08:00

My friend Conor and I have longstanding argument regarding which is funnier, a duck or a monkey.

I've always argued that a duck was funnier than a monkey, and here is my rationale:

Say 'a monkey walks into a bar'. Now, that is pretty damned funny, no? I can't deny that a monkey walking into a bar is funny. But here's what doesn't clinch the monkey for me--I can actually picture a monkey walking into a bar. Maybe it's because I've seen too many sitcoms or bad movies with a monkey in them, but for all I know that's actually happened before.

Now. Say 'a duck walks into a bar'. I instantly start giggling. Because let's face it, I've never seen a duck walk into a bar, or into any other sort of that establishment for that matter. It may never happen, and even if it did happen, that duck would have the blankest expression in its beady little eyes and a fat little waddle to his step. And now I'm cracking up (quacking up?) all over again.

So the duck wins it, right? Maybe not. I realized the other day that all this time I have ignored the cousin of the duck, the chicken. Where does the chicken fit into the humor gradient? Kind of throws a wrench into everything, doesn't it?

Shootfire. I got me some thinking to do.

Nanny Nanny Boo Boo

2005-12-22T10:11:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, while smoking under an overhang at the end of a building on my company’s campus, I was told to move. It was pouring rain.

This is happening because I-901 passed in Washington State. The initiative bans smoking in all public spaces and inside all work places and prohibits smokers from smoking with in 25 feet of any vent, air intake, or entrance that people may use to enter buildings.

Now I’m the type of smoker that won’t smoke in my own house, because it’s just stinky. I vote for tax increases on cigarettes and most likely would have voted for I 901 had it not been for the 25 foot rule…which is absolutely ridiculous.

Anyway back to yesterday’s incident. The person that told me not to smoke was our Facilities Manager, who didn’t accidentally run into me out there, but was looking for me. I could tell this because she was running around in the rain trying to figure out where exactly I was. See, I choose this little nook that is as far away from the door as possible and is obscured from view from all sides except for one.

Do you know how many people hang out at the end of a building in the freezing rain (did I mention I live in Seattle) on a typical day? No? Me either. But I can tell you that if I’m there (and I’m only there because I’m smoking) the number of people I’ve seen with in 25 feet of me is zero. None, nada, zip.

So someone ratted me out. Maybe saw the KNOWN smoker exiting the building. Why? Because they were standing next to me and were being impacted? No. Because the smoke was entering the building? No. Because they are little people with absolutely nothing else to do? I’m thinking yes.

Ah well, that’s fine. If them following me around to see where I smoke works for them, then it works for me. Because if I want a fag in the middle of a torrential down pour, screw you. Go the f#*k back inside.

WTF?

2005-09-16T13:48:00.000-07:00

Dear Editor.

I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t buy this month’s issue. I had been waiting for the October issue of Vanity Fair to be released with anticipation, but when it finally hit newsstands, I couldn’t believe by bad luck. Why on EARTH would you put that woman (and I use that term loosely) on the cover?

Now, I would call her a no talent ass clown, but that would prevent you from publishing my letter, which I wouldn’t really mind, since my very writing this gives her the one thing she seeks most, the same thing I wish to prevent: more publicity. I mean really, what has she done for humanity that she deserves the amount of attention she receives? I can think of nothing, unless you count becoming an icon of emptiness or starting the unbearable trend of dawning rat dogs as accessories…oh right, she was in a porn video, how novel.

Thank goodness you have spent precious space on this modern day poor little rich girl, lord knows we can all use a break from the drudgery of presidential deceit and incompetence. Taking in the horrors of Katrina is all that much more bearable knowing that the Student Body President of My Daddy U is back from vacation.

A Simple Plan

2005-09-08T10:59:00.000-07:00

I have been doing some reading on Karl Rove. Everything that I have been able to pull together makes me realize he is one giant dweeb. This is the kind of guy who would have become a serial killer had the socio path synapse attached itself one neuron to the right. But it did'nt, it landed squarely on top of the Competition cortex. Single minded, systematic and very very savvy.

What's frightening about Rove is that you can'tt appeal to a higher moral character, it simply doesn't exist. He is a cyborg programmed only to WIN. If people get hurt, careers destroyed, or the public misled, that is all just part of the process of coming out on top.

How do you fight someone like that? Someone who does not care about the issues only that his candidate comes out on top? It is practically impossible if you choose to take the ethical path. Fighting fire with fire will not work if you plan to exit the competition with even a small part of your soul.

The Plan:

Watch him, watch him closely. Whenever a big story breaks about a candidate, read anything BUT that story, somewhere, somehow, something big is going on that Karl does not want us to know about. Whisper campaigns are a common tactic he uses...Was Kerry really a war hero...I heard that Govenor Richards is a lesbian.

Look for fliers and direct mailings. He's been purporting as saying that this is the media that often flies under the radar.

Don not blink, pay attention! And then report. Report. Report. Report on your blog or local talk radio. Talk about him ALL the time, his history, is tactics. Keep it in the public consciousness.

A simple plan, lots of work on our parts, but we can cut him down.

No Inspiration

2005-09-07T09:39:00.000-07:00

How do people blog every day? I’m more of a lightening strikes kind of person, can’t really get the ol’ keys a clacking unless inspired. But I’m going to give it a go, a daily entry that will hopefully drum up some readership.

Last night, in lieu of sweeping the floor that currently is home to a warren of dust bunnies and a dried skin or two of onions, I watched a couple of documentaries. FYI- I am a documentary junkie. I LOVE them. Radio, Film, Books, TV you name it, I’m into it. And I’m not a snob about it either, “E True Hollywood Story, Meg Ryan” is right up there with “Fog of War”.

Documentary number one: Inside the Celluloid Closet.
This is a movie about the portrayal of homosexuals in films throughout Hollywood’s history. Amazing how we move from the freedom to express intimacy between people to a more rigid implied intimacy. I would say this applies to all relationships, M/F, M/M, F/F, but most markedly in the physical expression of tenderness between men. We move from soft touch to couched looks in the early years. The screenwriters became masters if implication. Even more interesting was how closeted audiences learned to decipher this language of silence. Definitely worth watching…I ended up adding most of the films they discussed to my NetFlix Que.

Documentary number two: Bush’s Brain.
Fuckin’ Karl Rove. What a douche bag. I will write more on this later…so much bigger than all of us. I have a plan for next election.

All right, I’ve done my duty. I’m out, until tomorrow.

This is Bull Shit.

2005-09-02T11:34:00.000-07:00

I am so fucking mad. Mad mad mad mad. ARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!

What the fuck? I mean REALLY. What. The. Fuck.

So mad, I can’t think, just walking around with goose bumps on my skin, thinking. How can I get to New Orleans? What skills do I have that will help? Could I relieve some other tired aid workers? I can hand out water. I can cook. Shit, give me a big ass pot and a tank of propane and I can feed a hundred people for $50.

I’m strong; I can drive stakes into the ground. I know CPR and how to make a compression bandage. I can help, I know can.

I’m a pretty good organizer too. Give me a two-way radio and I will rally all small boat owners in the gulf coast to put in and get thee to New Orleans....Carnival Cruise lines has a fleet of ships just off shore, waiting to take people to safety. Drug companies have donated resources and one ship is a floating hospital.

The Ducks have been pulled from their normal tourist routes and are currently pulling patrols around the city. Each is staffed with certified scuba diver, a barrel of water, a chain saw and a gun club sharp shooting champ. Civilian pilots from their Sesna planes are dropping additional resources.

REI, Colman and North Face have sent tents, sleeping bags and water purifiers. Student nurses have descended on mass. Greyhound busses are arriving around the clock and 4 Season’s Hotels have opened their doors.

It’s not that fucking hard. So come on you fuckers, instead of worrying about your TVs and Porches being looted, throw them the keys to your stores and let them have at it. A jackass is a jackass let them sink under the weight of their soggy 54” plasma HD TV. But don’t tell me there aren’t resources….this is THAT all mighty god damned AMERICA we are talking about here.

Land of plenty, my ass. Land of "how can I cut my losses" more like it.

Now either put up or shut up.

Click Here to Hear New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin on sister station WWL as heard on Air America.

Panic Attack

2005-08-12T12:27:00.000-07:00

Does anyone else ever do this?

I went downstairs to the cafeteria at work just now to buy lunch. As usual, there was very little offered down there that I wanted to put in my mouth. And frequently, even when something sounds good, it actually isn't good at all.

So I panicked and just started grabbing: a cup of soup, a peach, a tomato and cheese sandwich, and a fizzy water. 7 freaking dollars later, I'm walking back to my desk thinking 'Goddammit. I don't want any of this. Well, except maybe the fizzy water'.

I should have gone out for pho with you guys after all. Sigh.

Human Tessla Coil

2005-08-11T09:31:00.000-07:00

People who know me would probably describe me as a bit tough. Not a super butch chick, but the kind that can get a nail shoved through her arm while remodeling and stick a bandaid on it. I'm pretty callous emotionally too. I think my friends both love and hate my pseudo tough love thing I pull on them from time to time. I get all logical when what they really want is someone to agree with their plight.

But I'm fairly sensitive too. I have a lot of empathey and am really sensitive to "energy" in both my friends and myself. With out getting all Crystal-Ly let me say that I'm am a believer in concept of the healer, a person with strong empathetic abilities and a talent to manipulate other people's blocks. Good massage therepists are that way, as is my doctor.

For years my back has been completely messed up. I have this chronic pain in my lower back that plays like the sound track to my life. A good day is when I don't have to chew advil like candy.

Yesterday I started a new round of therepy with this Natural Path. He's pretty hot, so i don't mind it when he "manipulates my energy feilds". Yesterday, for the first time in my life I underwent acupuncture. It was freaking crazy. Little needles in my back and legs. S C A R Y shit.

But that wasn't even the weird part, Dr. New Age then attached these electrodes to the some of the needles and sent current through them. That is just INSANE. I could feel these waves of current jumping around the perimeter of my body like i was some giant Tessla coil.

Not sure if it helped. All I know is that my back freakin hurts today.

Random Thoughts About My Week-So Far

2005-08-09T09:17:00.000-07:00

I've been getting in to work late these days, mostly because the boy tends to turn off the alarm rather than hit snooze. That's how my Monday started, we a ultra jolt to the system realizing I only had 15 minutes to shower shampoo and shine.

Next day, i actually get into the gym, but realize I forgot I had to take my car to mechanic. This is the '63 valient and she didn't start that morning, so I called AAA. They tried to give her a jump, but the gas leak from the filter hose seemed to be a problem....why he got all worked up about gas dripping on the exhaust manifold I will never know.

Any who, while Mr. AAA is hooking up Ruby (that's the car) I'm getting my stuff together to leave the house....only to lock my keys in the house. Great, so now I have a tow truck driver and a dead car and the friggin keys are AWOL. Can I just mention that it is NOT EVEN 9am at this point?

Okay, break into house, grab keys and change pants that have been snagged by and errant nail while climbing through window. Follow car to mechanic. Watch two truck driver turn into a dead end ally with car. Prey he doesn't smash her into the garbage truck now behind him.

When I finally get to the mechanics, who appear to still be asleep, I leave Ruby behind to head off to work. Only to realize when I'm halfway there that I forgot to leave the bloody car keys.

mmmmmmmmmmmm.

Okay fast forward to work where I come into a box of 500 promotional magnets I had made only to find that though very nice looking...don't have the ALL IMPORTANT PHONE NUMBER on them.

Happy Fucking Tuesday.

Actualizing Simultaneous Attenuation Potential

2005-07-29T14:49:00.000-07:00

I am under the belief that most people are at least aware of the phrase "asap" if not having actually used it themselves. However, what I'm also starting to believe is that very few people use it for what it actually means, and that's really starting to piss me the fuck off.

As. Soon. As. Possible.

That's what it stands for. I think we all know it's an acronym, right? And what "acronym" means? Sure. And the good intentions of the word's creators are pretty evident, I would think. There is a need for saying, "Hey there, good buddy, could this be put in the ol' pipeline and finished up?" Sure.

I'll tell you what it doesn't mean. It doesn't mean Now, it doesn't mean Right Now, and it sure as hell doesn't mean IMMEDIATELY. If I see "Please do ASAP!" on another menial email that would have taken the sender an extra ten seconds just to do whatever it was themselves, I'm gonna start cookin' up an extra large batch of neck-punches for everyone.

Bottom line:
You'll get it when I'm goddamn good and ready to give it to you. Sons of bitches.

My Weekend

2005-07-18T10:39:00.000-07:00

Friday:

4pm left work
4:07 laid on couch, cat nappped
4:38 rudly awoken by some a-hole trying to save the world by asking me for money
4:40 awake on couch trying to fall back to sleep
4:45 gave up and finished, "she climbed across the table"
5:30 moved stuff off deck, swept and scrubbed deck for painting
6:30-9:30 experienced a loss of time, probably slipped through a black hole
9:45 picked up seth

Saturday:

drove seth to bus stop
went to U District farmers market
madee blackberry cobbler
ate most of cobbler
painted 2/3 of deck when found that second can of paint was wrong color
went to pick up correct color, but they were out of stock
picked up seth in lynnwood
decided there were no good movies playing at lynwook giganta plex
ate at the claim jumper
came home...another time warp, must contact NASA

Sunday:

drove seth to work after coffee and cigarettes with petie cat (he should really cut down)
went to shoreline paint store only find they were closed on sundays
shook fist at universe and asked, "why don't you want my deck painted?"
elham invited me to go boating
went boating
drank beer
swam in the sound in my panties
drank beer
took off panties so as to not soak shorts
drank beer
got to drive boat across the sound...no injuries reported as yet.
picked up seth from bus stop
made stake potatoes and peas fresh from market
passed out

Funky

2005-07-15T13:14:00.000-07:00

Below is an email and data from the Divine Hammer:

OK, do you guys have any serious advice for how to deal with an officemate who stinks? This is getting out of hand, and I can think of no polite way to bring it up. Any suggestions?

For 3 consecutive weeks, I recorded his stink (in arbitrary Hobo Power Units, or HPUs), as well as kept track of which shirt out of his collection of 3 shirts (yes, 3 shirts) he wore on any given day. The fact that he only owns one pair of jeans rendered pants-tracking useless.

The chart is self-explanatory, and indicates that showering does not occur during the work week.

The shirt color data are provided as a heat-map, if you will. I thought I was detecting a shirt-color pattern, with Friday shaping up to be his Black Shirt Day - but he threw me for a loop when he wore his green shirt on the last Friday.

Big Blue Ball

2005-07-08T15:30:00.000-07:00

While sitting on my deck last evening, I noticed a very large blue ball had found its way into my back yard. One of those exercise balls, palates ball, yoga ball…what ever you want to call it. I saw it just as I was drawing on my American Spirit mulling over the possible suspects in the recent Hinge Screw case (see posting “For Guphy”).

Life is clicking along all ordinary and what not then suddenly for no apparent reason, odd things appear. You either ignore them or allow them to inform your thoughts. And if you are informed by life’s non sequitur, you could very well loose your mind. Like Jonathan Noel in the Patrick Suskind’s, “ The Pigeon”

What would you do if one day you open your apartment and blocking your path is one steely-eyed pigeon? Or a giant ball infiltrates the back yard, or some completely normal looking guy in a truck with his 7 year old son motions for you to role down your window while parked at a stop sign? Need directions? No, no he didn’t, he needed to make monkey sounds and Monty Python French Solider gestures.
Jonathan ripped his pants and panicked. I wrote a blog entry.

Not even cats

2005-07-08T13:06:00.000-07:00

Every once in a great while, I like to push myself a little bit and try something just to see if I can do it. It's because of this idiotic tendency that I've done things like run a half marathon, play in a band, and marry my first husband.

So it's really no surprise that recently I decided to try to be vegetarian. After all, I've said for years that I could probably do it since I love veggies, get a little freaked out over chicken in general, and beef is too expensive. There's just one little thing--pork products.

I love all things pig. I love Easter ham. I love hot dogs, and no, I don't care if they're the all-beef kind, pig assholes taste just as good as beef assholes. My favorite thing to order at the taco bus on Rainier is the sweet, sweet carnitas (try them, they kick so much ass). But most of all, I love bacon. Oh sweet jeebus, do I love bacon.

But you know, I've discovered that for the most part, this all vegetarian thing isn't so bad. I'm managing to get lots of veggies that taste good while laying off the carbs, and while I'm skipping the cow, chicken, and pig, I'm still eating the little fishies. And on the side, I've been checking out the assortment of fake meat products that are currently available, thanks to all the hippies. Soyrizo is exactly what you'd think, a fake chorizo product, and it tastes pretty dang good. We've scrambled it with eggs and made a great black bean soup and our tastebuds were no worse for wear. Morningstar Farms makes some great fake meat too, everytime I have the breakfast sausage patties, I could almost swear I'm eating the real thing and their chicken nuggets ain't half bad either.

So as I'm sure you're all guessing, the problem is the bacon. There is no way to fake bacon in a convincing manner, I'm sure of it. But a friend recommended that I try the Smart Bacon bacon.
Did you click on the Smart Bacon link? Do you see the picture of the happy little pieces of bacon, curling up like a piglets tail on those [possibly fake] eggs? Smart Bacon (hereafter, "S.B.") does not look like this. SB is approximately the same shade as a piece of liver, and is perfectly flat.

But being an optimist, I went ahead and cooked the SB. You have two options in the preparation of SB: fry it up in a pan ('cuz I'm a wooooman, yes, yes) or pop it in the oven for 5 minutes at 450 after you've sprayed Pam all over it. Because I'm lazy, I went for the oven option. Reinforcing my optimism, it actually smelled like bacon cooking in there! Huzzah!

But no, SB is not bacon. SB remained flat and darkish red even after the cooking, and never got crispy in the oven. Do you know those pads of scratch paper you grandparents used to keep by the phone for messages? There was a gray piece of cardboard on the back for reinforcement, and when I put SB in my mouth this is the first thing I thought of. Gray cardboard that had been left in the rain, and then heated up in the sun before being put on my plate.

My boyfriend said it's exactly what he imagined dog treats would taste like, so I figured what the hell--let's give some to the cats. My cats are waaaay too smart for this. They looked at me like I was nuts, and left the kitchen.

Maybe the cats have it right. Fuck it, I'm getting carnitas for dinner tonight.

oh so poetic

2005-07-08T08:28:00.000-07:00

The worries of tomorrow plague my frontal lobe. Or at least i think it is the frontal lobe. My expertise comes mostly from discovery, a channel of beta waves aimed directly at my visual cortex.

For Guphy

2005-07-07T16:43:00.000-07:00

okay, this is some thing I've been meaning to bring up for a while....last month there was a Hot Roller's show at the Sunset in Ballard. i had a prefunk at my house complete with drinking of mango dacquaris, covhorting on the deck and corsette swapping. pretty normal all in all except that the morning after said soiree, this little cabinet I have above the commode in my bathroom developed a case of missing hinge screws....funny.

my friends are funny.

now i'm not saying that somebody did this on purpose. this cabinet, though i've had it for years and moved it multiple times and use at least weekly (it stores the extra roles of TP) could very well have NEVER had screws. the door may have stayed attached by sheer force of will. it's possible.

what i want to know...david, lisa and greg...is that while you were all alone at my house, did anyone notice Petie-cat using a screw driver in the bathroom?

Wheeeeee!

2005-05-03T08:19:00.000-07:00

Know what' s fun? Getting to the house of the friend you're dogsitting for and realizing you're down one dog. Not downward dog, which might actually be fun if you're into that whole yoga thing. Down one. As in gone. Missing. Hasta la vista, perro.

Rev., please tell me someone named Kimmy (which is a truly delightful name) still has him?

Asa sends his love, and licked Keppler's head to comfort him. If only he'd licked mine too.

What a Gas

2005-04-29T13:35:00.000-07:00

You know the sound the wind makes when it blow over the open end of a large pipe? The deep vibrating HMMMMMMMMMMMM. I love the resonance, can feel it in my chest area. Autoclaves sometimes make the same sound when exhausting steam.

Today I went to the bathroom to pee, had a little gas and decided, since I was alone in the restroom, I would let it out. It started off normal, not too loud, not very forceful, but then it just kept on going.

Whhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

For like a whole minute.

They say the world is always speaking to us if we just listen. I wonder what she was trying to say?

Dit is zo gebeurd en het is gratis!

2005-04-29T13:08:00.000-07:00

So, we're in Amsterdam. Accordingly, Lisa, myself and Anne would like to present:

Top 10 Things We've Learned About the Dutch and Amsterdam (without really trying)

10. Dutch people are tall. Lots of them. Almost freakishly tall.

9. Dutch people are also kind of loud. We can hear about six of them right now, two floors up and through a wall.

8. The flat we are staying in was advertised as being in a "quiet little neighborhood" but is literally 7 feet from a bar. See number 9 above.

7. Although everyone here rides a bike, the cars seem oblivious to this and we've already been a witness to a collision. Crushed bike tire, traffic jam, ambulance with weird siren going the wrong way up a one way street. Wonderful.

6. There are canals everywhere. Which is great, except for our first guess on the fecal coliform count of the water would be somewhere around a million parts per million. Tasty.

5. Lisa is pissed as they seem to not serve milk. Fuckers.

4. Dutch has lots of aaaags and grrrs and yuuuks in it. Despite this, many pleasant folks speaking it also happen to speak perfect English.

3. Pedestrians in the US have the right-of-way. In Amsterstam, they have the wrong-of-way. And everyone driving anything with an engine wants to make sure that you know it.

2. Anne wants to have boiled potatoes at least once before she leaves. Swear to god.

1. Most of the house stairs here are for novelty purposes only. The steps are about 1 1/2 inches deep, all require serious hand railings to prevent death, and are like a staggered, wood-covered drop-off that stands between you and your destination. Plan your trips about the house wisely.

Photos to come. Drive safely. Watch for taxis. And for heaven's sake, inside voices ONLY.

Nobody's home

2005-04-27T08:41:00.000-07:00

An Asian mini-mart down the street from me is closing, and this is what their sign says. It makes me laugh:

GO AWAY SALE!

EVERYTHING 10% OFF

EXCEPT RICE AND BEER

We gave you 10% off of that damn Twinkie. Now seriously. Go away.

Deflated

2005-04-13T08:35:00.000-07:00

I can't believe I forgot to post this and/or tell everyone I know about this yesterday:

I was on my way to work, driving N on 99 as usual. And there, at the Western Ave exit, I saw her. Head and arms thrown back in ecstasy, pink mouth open to the sky, brown hair cascading down, crumpled body leaning against the rail.

It was a deflated blow-up doll somebody had thrown out the window, and left at the exit ramp.

Damnation, I gotta start carrying my camera with me. That was too funny.

Stuck at Work

2005-04-09T10:45:00.000-07:00

Babysitting freezers. Wanted someone to know....

hello?

...sigh...

okay then.

Zero to Six

2005-04-09T10:10:00.000-07:00

Strippers in Seattle suck, figuratively I mean. Athletic, yes. Big titties, yes. Blond hard bodies, yes. Stage presence, ZERO. I guess as a girl, I need bit more than the jiggle, wiggle, blank stare, grind thing. I want fantasy, personality and sex appeal that comes from someplace deep inside.

Vancouver BC was my first introduction to strip clubs and most likely will be forever my gold standard. Since then I’ve been to about three clubs in the last three months looking to find that same vibe that gave me the night sweats. See, there was this sassy little chica in BC that bumped and ground my Kinsey Scale number from a 1 (predominantly heterosexual, incidentally homosexual) to a 3 (equally heterosexual and homosexual).

….don’t you love the idea of incidental homosexuality? Bread, milk, eggs, pussy, toilet paper….but I digress….

She wore this little pleated plaid skirt, knee highs and white button down shirt. Pretty typical catholic school girl get up. She set about strutting prancing and leveraging her body at odd angles off the pole. Impressive, okay. Well, about a quarter of the way through her little dance, she turned her head, broke the 4th wall, stared directly into the audience and stuck her tongue out. I’m not talking that pseudo sexy, “I’m licking something naughty” bit, I’m talking scrunchy nose, pointy tongue, “nanny nanny boo boo” !!!!! My jaw hit the floor not to mention the ramping up of other sympathetic biological responses. In the blink of an eye she transformed from this 20 something stripper to this sexy little brat that I wanted to drag home by the hair. She had a great body, but so did the others. It was the simple act of dropping deep into character that took me from observing a sexy woman to becoming engaged whole hog in the fantasy.

I flipping hate dilettantes.

So ladies, when you are on stage jiggling your titties and flashing your whoha, could you act just a little bit as if you like it. I want to like you, I want to give you lots of money, but that’s just not gonna happen if I’m fast asleep in the front row.

On Poop

2005-04-07T10:50:00.000-07:00

Sooooo....am I in the minority when I say that I am a very conscientious public pooer? I try to not do it when others are in the bathroom (though in dyer emergencies this may be a bit rough). If the dump is odoriferous, I take action to minimize the funk. When I’m done, I confirm that all physical evidence of said expulsion is eliminated.

That’s what I do. Not too much effort.

SO WHY THE FUCK DO I WALK INTO A STINKY SKID MARKED NAPPY TOILET PAPER STICKING TO THE SEAT STALL ONCE A DAY????????

Tips for Public Colonal Evacuation:

1. If more than two stalls, take one on the end. This allows interlopers to choose a stall with a little distance.
2. Should someone come in during your process, give a cough or a little shuffle ball change to let them know you are there.
3. The courtesy flush is your friend, this helps keep down the smell and can cover any particularly forceful movements. USE IT.
4. Upon completion remember the F I R….Flush, Inspect, Repeat when necessary. That’s right your job is not complete until you INSPECT the bowl for any skid marks, floaty bits or errant hairs.

Take the time to make the world a better place.
Thank you and good day.

Death by Blowtorch

2005-03-31T13:17:00.000-08:00

So, I already told several friends this cute little story, but I want the world to know. THE WORLD, I SAY!!!

My friggin' purse was stolen last night out of my car while I was in my welding class. Immediately after realizing it was gone, I had lucid fantasies of catching the purp by throwing a rod of steel at his feet while he was running down the street and making him fall, or even better, flinging a 16-gauge piece of sheet metal at him that would neatly slice his head off, or EVEN BETTER - taking my acteylene torch and burning the fuckers eyeballs out while the dudes in my class hold him down for me. And I know my fellow welder boys would do it, since I'm the only girl in the class and I'm sure they all have crushes on me. I'm sure of it. HUGE, painful crushes.

And now the world knows.

I (heart) American Chopper

2005-03-26T00:39:00.000-08:00

Okay, so, honestly: I _LOVE_ American Chopper. On the average television on the Discovery Channel. In Seattle on cable channel 8.
If you know me, you already know this. If you don't, or weren't paying attention, and you haven't seen American Chopper yet, roll out of the cave, find a TV, steal cable, or satellite, possibly a real good telescope, whatever, and watch this show. At least twice. If you don't love it, fine. Go back to the yurt.
I mean, we can probably hang out and whatnot, but it's all pretty much suspect at that point. This show is just fucking lovely to me. I like motorcycles quite a bit, and I really don't care for choppers all that much, and Harleys/the whole road-gang scene in general isn't really my thing, but the show just has it, man. Every bit. It's what TV is all about for me.
And a few things:
I don't care if the Senior/Paulie arguments are faked.
I don't care if they do a sum up kind of montage thing for each episode but yet have totally different facial hair and look a few years older when they do it.
I don't care if 8 weeks of the whole process is compressed into just 1 or 2 hours.
Honestly, I don't care. I just love every second of it.

Are they going to get the engine on time? Will Paulie piss his dad off just enough to make him go home? Can Vinnie get the bars straight? Can Campo fuck something up just skillfully/ugly enough for it all to come together? Can Mikey just be in five more seconds so I can love the whole thing just that much more? Yes, please.
I wish I didn't love a show on TV this much, but I do. I just do. So sue me.

Spotty at best

2005-03-21T21:45:00.000-08:00

Warning: if you are a male who is uncomfortable reading about women's "cycles" it's best you turn away now. May I recommend going here in the meantime?
http://www.strindbergandhelium.com/

Dear body,
Hi, it's me. Your owner. And I think it's high time you and I sat down and had a talk.

See, here's the thing. Once every 28 days I'm supposed to do this thing, and the deal is I'm not supposed to do it anywhere in between those goddamn 28 days. You can't just show up to say hi, only to disappear again. No popping out to say, "Hah! Psych! OK, see you in a few" on day 11, only to come back 10 days laer.

You know those little pills I take every day at about the same time? Oh, you know the ones...they're small, they range in color from white to light blue and every once in awhile they turn green. Yeah, those are called "birth control pills", asshole, and they're essentially a promise that for 21 blissful days I won't see you around. It is a fucking contract between you and me and the pharmaceutical industry. Do you see where I'm going with this? You are pissing me off, and I'm not taking it anymore.

We've been over this how many times in the last 17 years? You think you'd have it down by now, like some sort of system. Some sort of, oh, I don't know... reproductive system. But no, that'd be too easy, wouldn't it?

I guess what I'm saying is, straighten up and fly right. Don't make me switch to that Seasonale bullshit, I swear I'll do it. 4 times a year, mister. Then who'll be laughing?

Thank you for your consideration,
Heidi

Thank you for touring my uterus on the information superhighway. We'll now return you to the regularly scheduled "Don't Shake the Baby" program. Please watch your step as you get off.

Million Dollar Baby

2005-03-16T13:09:00.000-08:00

Not very often do I agree with "The" Academy. But 2004 was definitely the year for Clint.

I am one of those movie watchers that love to be swept away. I'm the loud laugher that spills popcorn or the woman sniffling into her shirtsleeve one seat in front of you. But there is swept away and then there is tsunami, rip your ass out to sea, pummel you on the reef and spit your tired broken body onto a scorching shoreline. So when I tell you that Million Dollar Baby put me into a fit of sobbing that lasted 15 minutes past the credits, believe me when I say that this was truly a Great movie.

I think, overall, it is about loyalty. And how loyalty above all else requires sacrifice. Not blind faith. But purposeful, justified, well thought out commitment to people and beliefs. In a time when people are so distracted by the least important aspects of society, it is beautiful to see a movie that exalts humanity's broad range. The depth of courage that honors personal truth, despite the painful path.

Opossumbilities

2005-03-15T09:03:00.000-08:00

So I'm driving to the store last night. I'm headed up this basically residential street, and it just so happens something's in the road. Now, as most people know, your basic cat will just haul ass right out of there as soon as a car comes by, but as I pull right up to it it's obvious this isn't a cat. For one thing, it's an opossum. Or 'possum. You choose.
And for another, this sucker is just zipping itself around in a tight little circle. I'm a concerned fellow, a giver much like yourself, so I stop, put on the hazard lights and get out. It's still doing its little circle. But it doesn't look to be injured, and I'm no genius so I just sort of sat there and thought about it.
a.) I didn't have any heavy gloves in the car with which to grab the thing, and
b.) I know next to nothing about 'possums. Other than that they are North America's only living marsupial, the knowledge of which was not helping me at this particular moment.
I reach down to try and possibly pick it up, or to just sort of pass on the idea that perhaps the middle of a street isn't the best place to practice circular walking, and right about then it decides to do something. It opens it's mouth and hisses at me.
Due mostly to b.) above, I had no idea that these fuckers have a HUGE mouth with about 14 thousand sharp little teeth in it. A tad off-putting. So I decide to just let it be.
That's when the three cars, two of them nice big dirty useless sports cars that had all been waiting a total of twelve goddamn seconds, decide it's the time to start repeatedly wailing on their horns. No questions. No getting out to see what the furry little thing at my feet might be or why it chooses to walk in a circle. So I get back in my car, back up, and let them by after giving each the universal "hello? you? douchebag?" look, then drive carefully around our little 'possum friend.
Sometimes I truly loathe the American public. This was one of those times.
Merry Tuesday.

Screw Toby

2005-03-10T11:15:00.000-08:00

Bunnies? Yeah, Bunnies were made for eatin.

But Lisa? Though she always smells good, I'm not sure she's dinner material.

Well if you wanna save Lisa you have to give us money. And when i say money I mean crisp, hard American dinero. If we don't raise enough money to buy a case of PBR, The Shaking Babies are turning Lisa into soup.....already bought the onions....so look out!

We mean it. Serious. Okay, a 6 pack will do.

2005-03-10T10:48:00.000-08:00

Help Save Lisa!!

A Punk Rock Dali Lama

2005-03-07T11:02:00.000-08:00

I have so many things that I “want” to do. Be an actress, sing in a band, create audio documentaries, clean my house, plant a garden. But all I ever seem to do is get over whelmed by all the things I am NOT doing. God bless TV, sucks all the feelings right out. Depression becomes submission in less time than it takes the King of the Hill theme song to play.

For as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to be an actress. And for the same length of time I figured I never could be one because of my weight. Over time I’ve gotten more comfortable I guess. I mean, I am who I am. A smoking, drinking, loud talking chick who can run 3 miles, bike a century and shops at Lane Bryant. Never did fit the mould.

I was going to say that I’m of the age when introspection is natural. The mid age period where career changes are normal and most divorces happen. But truth be told I’ve never been content. If happy…why not sad? If I’m angry, why am I not accepting? I have never been good enough for me. I want to be the fucking punk rock Dali Lama. What the Hell?

Even as I bitch about this, I know somehow that it is this very dichotomy that is most profoundly me. It is the ability to be a fool and recognize it while continuing to act foolishly, that defines me. If I found a bottle with a genie, I would ask for fearlessness. The ability to answer the call of creativity without fear of failure or judgment is something I would be willing to sell my soul for.

But then perhaps living with out fear is just that. Soulless?

Hello.

2005-03-03T13:09:00.000-08:00

I just moved into a new cubical at work. In under three days I have learned everything there is to know about my neighbor. Why? Because she tells me….everything.

Hello is a seemingly innocuous term. It can open conversations or be the conversation in and of itself. I did not know however that it could lead to learning minute intimate details of a woman who’s name I only remember when I walk by her cubical label.

I know she is caring for her grandchild. I know that her son in law is an alcoholic. That said granddaughter is in therapy and that she sleeps late…often until 12 in the afternoon (gasp!). I can tell you where they will be this Saturday between the hours of 9 and 11am. I also know that Internet gaming and web surfing are very, very important to my neighbor as are alone time, early rising and Wal-Mart.

What I don’t know is why I have been blessed with this knowledge. Could be my new perfume, only started wearing it since I moved cubicles. Might have to return it.

Great 19th Century Poet

2005-02-28T08:57:00.000-08:00

Dogs delight to bark and bite
And little birds to sing
But all that flies can find to do
Is shit on everything

They buzz around from noon till night
And do not rest a bit
Unless it be a moment when
They stop to take a shit

In every room about the house
You find the pesky fly
They shit and shit and shit and shit
And shit until they die

This poem, found last night in an old writing desk of my dad's, was written by my grandfather John Hammerle (1880-1940). I have taken certain editorial liberties, however: instead of writing the word "shit" throughout the poem, he drew little piles of shit in the form of dots.

Where Have All the Heroes Gone?

2005-02-22T09:19:00.000-08:00

Shit. Another one down. First Spalding Grey, who happens to be the best story teller on the planet and now Hunter S. Thompson. Why are all my college era influences “offing” themselves? Granted, Hunter could have accidentally shot himself…he’s been know to mix fire arms and altered states of consciousness on more then one occasion.

Is rebel to suicide the only through line? Must we become our parents to survive? Is there any way to keep allegiance with the truth of our youth while continuing to progress to adult hood? Or is it grow up…sell out?

My prediction for the up coming year…

1. Michael Moore will run for office, accepting special interest money.
2. Wes Anderson will no longer work with Owen and begin to make film sequels,
aka Beaches 3, Weekend at Bernie’s 8 and The Princess Diaries in Cancun.
3. Neil Young will reunite with Crosby Stills and Nash….forever!

Yatzee Otzi!

2005-02-17T12:22:00.000-08:00

For some interactive fun with the Italian Iceman.

Holy Crap!

2005-02-17T12:08:00.000-08:00

That is the phrase I most enjoy being uttered from my friend Heidi’s mouth. She says many funny things, but the way her voice kinda goes up in tone and all raspy at the same time cracks me up.

Yup, yup, she’s one super hot cutie. Lucky you, her band The Hot Rollers is playing Friday night in Seattle, so I thought I would put in a promotional plug on this blog…is that a Plog? or Blomotion? Hehehehe I kinda like blomotion, makes me tingly.

Anyway here’s the deal:

Friday, February 18
Chuck Yeager
The Hot Rollers

Mars Bar
609 Eastlake E
South of REI, North of Fred Hutch

No costumes, just rawk!!! OK, that's a lie.
Chuck Yeager wears costumes and we hate to be shown up.

http://www.cafevenus.com/
http://www.chuckyeah.com/
http://www.thehotrollers.com

And if you didn’t already know, The Hot Rollers are accompanied by the Rollettes…hot chicks on trampolines.

Need I say more?

The Green Room

2005-02-16T22:31:00.000-08:00

So, as some of you know, I recently had my kitchen walls painted. Painted by a man named Pepsi, no less. After viewing what seemed to be hundreds of paint chips of some variation of green, I proudly chose a shade called "Hidden Meadow". Now, you'd think by using the word "hidden" to describe the "meadow", it would mean that the shade would be somewhat subdued or, shall we say, "not in your face so much".

Well let me tell you. No really. Please let me. As I was standing outside my front door with Kelly during the recent Karaoke party at my house, looking into my newly green-painted kitchen, it looked as though everyone standing in the kitchen had the flu. As well, the otherwise white appliances and tile floor displayed a dreamy avacado reflective glow. mmmmmm....Hidden.....Meadow......greeeeen.....sickness.......

Maybe it's one of those things that people eventually get used to? Like your grandmother's mustache, or that weird skin-tag thing usually found near your armpit, or other things you become accoustomed to noticing and/or fiddling with?

Yeah. My kitchen's really green.

I Have Seen the Light...

2005-02-16T16:24:00.000-08:00

...and now my retinas are scorched beyond repair, and I "see" large blue and purple blobs in the shape of the sun when I shut my eyes.

I'm thinking of investing in a special pair of work sunglasses to wear while walking down any hallway in a westerly direction. The type that old ladies wear after cataract surgery.

Now that'd really be something.

Mass Transit Sucks pt. deux

2005-02-15T20:46:00.000-08:00

At one time I thought a blog would be a great idea. When I was a young lass, like most young lasses, I used to write in a diary. Then when I went to college it became "journaling" which is basically the same idea, but done in a coffee house in hopes that you'll look smart and deep and get laid. These days I mostly just get drunk and bitch to my friends. But there was a point--possibly after my third bourbon drink--when a blog seemed perfect; a place to rant, rave, and vent. A veritable hook upon which to hang my dry wit and my droll daily observations.

Oddly enough, now I have one and it seems I have nothing to say. Everytime I think I should post something all I hear is the sound of crickets in my noggin. So, as I am prone to do, I made a list of possibilites why I am not blogging as often as I thought I would. And away we go:

1. I really don't have anything to say.
2. I'm really busy at work, and really tired when I get home.
3. I don't drink as much as I used to, and as a sober individual am finally facing the fact that I am possibly neither dry nor witty.
4. I've lost my fingers and haven't figured out how to type with me toes yet.

But by the time I'd gotten to number 4 I read swankgrl's post about mass transit sucking and that's when it hit me: I have no stories because I don't ride the bus anymore.

From 1992-1997 I didn't have a car. I rode the bus everyday rain or shine and I liked it, goddammit. Then in '97 when I bought a car I still kept riding the bus because, well, it was easier and cheaper than driving everyday. It wasn't until 2004 that I finally decided that commuting 1 hour each direction sucked ass and I should start driving.

But with the bus riding went all the amusing and sometimes downright disgusting tales of everyday life. In my 12 years of bussing I saw some amazing things--public shittings, public hygiene (that includes flossing, nosepicking, and nail clipping), and public puking.

I've had to get off the bus on a hot day to throw up because the man next to me had both wet and crapped his pants, and was now sitting by my side, giggling. When I was unfortunate enough to live in the wasteland that is Shoreline my bus route went by a sanitarium and picked up at least one or two crazies on a daily basis. I swear to God one of them was Murph from Dinosaur Jr. He talked to himself and would suddenly turn, stare at you, and stomp off as if you'd said something about his mama. Then he would perch in his new seat, rocking back and forth as he stared at you and muttered under his breath.

I've seen a woman have a seizure, tried to ignore a girl getting finger fucked in the back of the bus, and met a guy who had answered a personal ad I'd placed years before (we'd never met in person before that because instead I began dating the man who would go on to be my husband. And then my ex-husband).

I also seem to have a disposition that says "Please, sit next to me and talk to me". Strangers, particularly those not quite right in the head, love to tell me their life stories. I've tried to wear headphones, I used to carry a book or a crossword at all times, I've even tried to look downright mean, all to no avail. One gentleman on my local bus liked to tell me his philosophy on the timing of "walk" and "don't walk" signs. The last time I had to take mass transit, he was still there and he'd developed a new strategy--it's called jaywalking. Who knew?

Of course, the bus wasn't all bad. It's some prime people-watching territory, I got a lot more reading done back then, and I sure as heck got a lot more exercise. Best of all, I often developed crushes that typically lasted no more than three stops before he got off the bus and we had to break up. Apparently he wanted to see other people.

Nobody Here

2005-02-15T13:56:00.000-08:00

Some of you may have seen this already, but it's different everytime I check it out.

Just start clicking everywhere.

http://www.nobodyhere.com/justme/me.here

Badger Badger Badger

2005-02-14T16:00:00.000-08:00

Must watch for long time.

http://www.badgerbadgerbadger.com/

And now for your listening pleasure

2005-02-14T15:25:00.000-08:00

I give to you, the Llama Song---

http://gprime.net/flash.php/llamasong

Happy Valentine's Day Mother Fuckers!!

2005-02-14T09:52:00.000-08:00

Yeah, that's pretty much all I've got.

Dig Me Out

2005-02-14T09:34:00.000-08:00

I have so much crap. Unbelievable really. My house is tiny and yet I was able to fill the back of my station wagon with donatables. The plan for Sunday was to clean out the basement rooms. One is an office of sorts and the other is the tool shed, both deep in clutter as a result of a massive remodel last spring. Yeah, I said LAST spring. I am the queen of procrastination, which is why I post so much to this damn blog.

I was only able to get through the office.

The hardest thing to decide is what to keep and what to trash. I always thought I was pretty ruthless in these situations. Bread maker—GONE! Paper shedder that sucks---OUTTA HERE! Crappy linens---POOF!

It’s the little shit that drives me crazy. I finally just tossed this old iron-on “Redwood Forest- CDFC” patch. This swag has been with me since 1989. I can’t even remember how I acquired it. And why does anyone need an entire box of rocks, twigs, leaves and lichen? Jesus! Just walk outside.

Turns out I’m not such a toughie after all. The following is a list of things I apparently cannot live with out:

Jars of various shapes and sizes obtained through the years, dirty, never used in my hands with no caps
Soap molds from a project I started 5 years ago.
One giant block of wax, wicks and aluminum wick tabs (see previous entry)
A calling card from the George Bush the 1st era, with Newt Gingrich’s head on it???
Various beads, chains, rings and single earrings
5 pairs of sunglasses missing a single screw
4 wigs
3 cigar boxes
Two leopard print jackets ( TWO!!????)
One badly made dress ala Marie Antoinette

You will recognize me when I'm old and homeless, just look for the cigar smoking, cheetah clad French aristocrat calling Newt from a pay phone....hair styles may vary.

Mass Transit SUCKS!

2005-02-11T13:29:00.000-08:00

Does wanting to visit grievous bodily harm on my fellow citizens at 7:30 in the morning make me a terrible person? Is it my fault that the only circuits firing in my head so early are dedicated to hatred and contempt? Perhaps I should have coffee before boarding the bus. Maybe then I could sparkle with such things as patience, compassion and hand-eye coordination. But this morning, I had no coffee. This morning I boarded my bus of the damned (Metro 3 or 4!!!:)) armed with neither Walkman nor copy of Vanity Fair—tokens that may have blinded me to the festering horror that was the Cripple of Jefferson Street. First the one legged wench wants to board the bus half way between stops. That’s fine—it’s a bit of a hill, that stretch of Jefferson. Then it takes her a good couple of minutes to get strapped in just right so that she can wheel back on my toe or go crashing into the person in front of her (depending on the tilt of the hill). Alright, that’s fine, she obviously has a tough life and who am I to judge? But then the bitch starts hacking and horking and coughing and spewing god-knows what mixture of emphysema and Tuberculosis all over the front of the bus. And while I appreciate that her one good leg doesn’t work—her goddamned hands do, so why doesn’t she cover her fucking mouth! And did she get off at Harborview? Of course not. Instead, the other members of her TB recovery club join her, and the whole bus is filled with the most god-awful, phlegm chorus this side of a plague convention. Do ANY of them cover their mouth? Do ANY of them carry a simple Kleenex? This, my friends, is the best part of having a completely frayed security net. Homeless? Ride Metro! Totally Psychotic? Ride Metro! Uninsured? Ride Metro to Harborview where they will give you some antibiotics and send you on your Typhoid Mary way!
I have got to start driving to work, environment be damned.

Thank You Lord

2005-02-11T10:10:00.000-08:00

I...I...I don't know what to say, close to tears really. This IS the reason the internet exists.

A Safe Place for Drunk Dialing

I particularly enjoy the rating system.

I have half a mind to set up my own service. You buy me beer, I drink it and then call people from your phone! This could take off people, i do believe there is a niche out there for me.

We Rock!

2005-02-10T16:29:00.000-08:00

We have a fan! Holy Cow! Apparently Arizona is Amish Country, had no idea, but hell, I was schooled in the US, what the heck do I know about geography. Anyway, let’s give a big hello to Janis!

HI JANIS!!

Since we have reached the dizzying heights of fame, there has been some behind the scenes discussion of disbanding. And after a lot of soul searching, some midi karaoke and a couple cases of beer, Janis will be happy to know that we intend to carry on despite the inevitable possibility of shark jumping.

Is it wrong of me to find this amusing?

2005-02-10T11:10:00.000-08:00

The link is embedded in the title....cause it was throwing off the layout....i'm
soooo bitchy....and this is NOT the Hammer.

hahahahahahahahahahaha!

You want random? I'll give you random...

2005-02-10T08:51:00.000-08:00

So here's something that's been bugging me. I've got a John Kerry for president 2004 sign in my front yard. After the election was all said and done, I was still so pissed that Bush actually won (he had a mandate, no less) that I decided I was going to leave my John Kerry sign in the yard for the next 4 years in protest.

It's what now...February? The sign is still there, and looking pretty sharp, I must say.
It's one of 'em plastic ones so it doesn't get torn to hell in the rain and I'm quite impressed that the colors are still so blue. And, uh...red. Anyway, ignore all that. The sign is there. Now.

I was walking up my front steps last night, and wondering to myself what other people think when they see that sign still in my yard. Do they see it as:
1. the defiant act of a pissed off American that I meant it to be?
2. a sign that I am a very lazy person
3. the last stand of a sore loser?

I mean, I see 'Dukakis for President' stickers on cars and can't help but chuckle. Poor Mike Dukakis. He comes from a swarthy people. Anyone remember that SNL skit?

OK, I digress. The amazing thing to me is that no one has fucked with the sign. Maybe it's because you have to really want that sign. You have to go up a bunch of steps and walk into my yard to maul poor John Kerry.

I just don't think I can bear to fold up little John and throw him away. In my little mind it's akin to admitting defeat and I can't do it. Please, someone come over to my house and do it for me, will you? Save me from myself.

Am I going on a trip?

2005-02-09T13:48:00.000-08:00

I just opened two fortune cookies and looky see:

VIP treatment will add the magic touch to your trip
Show appreciation to those who help make your trip a joy.

So where're we goin'?

Cat Haiku

2005-02-09T10:18:00.000-08:00

The food in my bowl
Is old, and more to the point
Contains no tuna.
----
So you want to play.
Will I claw at dancing string?
Your ankle's closer.
----
There's no dignity
In being sick - which is why
I don't tell you where.
----
Seeking solitude
I am locked in the closet.
For once I need you.
----
Tiny can, dumped in
Plastic bowl. Presentation:
One star; service: none.
----
Am I in your way?
You seem to have it backwards:
This pillow's taken.
----
Your mouth is moving;
Up and down, emitting noise.
I've lost interest.
----
The dog wags his tail,
Seeking approval. See mine?
Different message.
----
My brain: walnut-sized.
Yours: largest among primates.
Yet, who leaves for work?
----
Most problems can be
Ignored. The more difficult
Ones can be slept through.
----
My affection is
conditional. Don't stand up,
It's your lap I love.
----
Cats can't steal the breath
Of children. But if my tail's
Pulled again, I'll learn.
----
I don't mind being
Teased, any more than you mind
A skin graft or two.
----
So you call this thing
Your "cat carrier." I call
These my "blades of death."
----
Toy mice, dancing yarn
Meowing sounds. I'm convinced:
You're an idiot.

Help, I'm thinking again!

2005-02-09T09:55:00.000-08:00

I'm new to relationships. I'm 37 and I still don't know how to do them. I guess that's not big news or terribly out of the ordinary. I like being in the bubble of newness…when the farthest distance you can stand to be from him is the distance of one atom from another. When the breathe of your lover is like an ether that envelops and transports you to the land of unicorns and fluffy kittens.

I can even handle the passionate sparing that burrows us ever deeper into each others darkness.

The thing I suck at is the static place where nothing is wrong and nothing is grand. That day to day. I tend to struggle and push here. I want to make it one or the other or anything other than the norm. I get scared here. How does one manage the relationship steady state. Is it the beginning of the end? The dinners in silence? The quiet that precedes boredom? The moment before betrayal.

Or is this the pulling back of the ocean just before the powerful wave that pulls us into forever?

Whooshing sound

2005-02-08T17:27:00.000-08:00

Read entire article - very funny.

link embedded in title

Otis Redding and Black History Month

2005-02-07T11:08:00.000-08:00

For anyone who's interested, KEXP is playing tons of Otis Redding this morning. And I heart Otis Redding.

OK, well right now they're playing Whiskeytown... dammit! I should have posted this earlier in the morning when the Otis started.

And F y'alls Y: Allow me to check "Paint my Kitchen" off my 2005 To-Do List! I'm hiring a nice man named Pepsi to paint it for me this week! I'm thinking green.....

Mona's Womb

2005-02-04T14:43:00.000-08:00

I don't know about you guys, but I've always wanted to live inside a lunar cardboard enclosure topped by a glass fruit cup.

"Hydroponic ponds ( fertilized by human feces ) inside the structure would be used to grow non-edible plants."

http://www.sixpoints.org/

Speaking of Bitches

2005-02-04T14:12:00.000-08:00

This is my new canine obsession. I just met the 3 Staffordshire Terriers that Dave Fitzpatrick has, and they are hilarious:

http://www.dogbreedinfo.com/americanstaffordshire.htm

LISA

2005-02-04T11:52:00.000-08:00

Finally I understand my purpose in this world:

http://lisa.jpl.nasa.gov/index.html

Shallow Thoughts

2005-02-04T08:55:00.000-08:00

I’m wearing a pink puffy sweater today. The kind with little tendrils of hair growing out of it, sort of like some of my t-shirts post Sunday morning hang out with the cats. The little sprouts get caught up by the wind and float in the currant like sea grass…sort of calming even if the pink is that of Bubblicious Bubble-Yum.

I am a créma puff, no?

Water heaters break and require checks taped to the empty carcass. Seattle’s favorite plumber is always sick, he had a sinus infection this time, but the job was still complete even if the shell takes up residence on the lawn.

Boyfriends are complicated, maybe it’s just relationships. We all have our histories, mothers who broke our hearts and fathers never there or too there. Oprah visited the Cleaver house yesterday, apparently they moved out.

It’s Friday and I’m rambling. Little thoughts that ebb and flow in the confluent tides of caffeine and adrenaline.

The Puppet That he Is.

2005-02-03T09:19:00.000-08:00

Fun with GW.

http://www.actofme.co.uk/bush_speech/bushspeechwriter.html

"The US has a deep hatred for civil rights."

You know what he says, now you can make him say what he means.

Big Ass Fear

2005-02-02T23:47:00.000-08:00

I'm somewhat frightened of bugs, but only when they crawl on me or menacingly chase me into a corner. The house spider here in Seattle is a giant brown hairy monster that has relegated more than one pair of my shoes to the dust bin post-encounter.

Then there are scary movies, bad dreams and the smell of gin...all give me goose bumps, but generally the feeling is passing. Sometimes I think of what it would be like to loose my mom and live in this world alone.

But today, the thing the scares the crap out of me to the point that I've cancelled all my colonic appointments for the foreseeable future is the prospect of riding my bike in the STP.

Screw you Betagal and your crazy "to do" list!!!

Shall we play a game?

2005-02-02T10:47:00.000-08:00

Guess the movies that these quotes come from. The person who gets the most correct answers wins a fabulous prize.

1. Now will you get out of here, I have to sleep in this room. Out of the Past

2. Fuck you! I'm fuckin dyin over here. Reservoir Dogs

3. It's a thin line between clever and stupid. Spinal Tap

4. You can't leave. All the plants will die. Stripes

5. You take the blonde, I'll take the one in the turban. Young Frankenstien

6. I AM in a world of shit. Full Metal Jacket

7. I felt like destroying something beautiful Fight Club

8. He'll cry himself to sleep tonight on his huge pillow So I Married and Axe Murderer

9. I killed him for the money and the woman. I didn't get the money ... and I didn't get the woman. Double Indemnity

10. Jack, please, I'm only an elected official here. I can't make decisions by myself. Nightmare Before Christmas

Congradulations to betagal. Your fabulous prize will arive in the next few days

Exes and ohs

2005-02-02T08:42:00.000-08:00

Here they are, in chronological order. A list of the nicknames I've come up with for guys I've dated so my friends can keep them straight. Ready?

1. Big head/Dorkus/Atari boy (he was so terrible, he earned three).
2. Rocker Aaron
3. Ted
4. Pig Farmer
5. Rob
6. Bear mauled guy
7. "You remind me of my sister" guy
8. Dead bird guy
9. Soup boy/Foam boy
10. "I broke up with my fiancee two weeks ago but I'm totally over her" guy
11. Lime boy
12. Stevel Knievel
13. The flake

Anyone without a nickname was obviously not noteworthy, and therefore not worth mentioning.
If you require further elaboration on any of the names, let me know. I've got a dossier on each.

The Big Dance-Off 2005

2005-02-01T21:34:00.000-08:00

Anne and I are here after several glasses of wine, practicing (choreographing) our dance routine for the The Big Dance-Off 2005.

Watch your back, suckas.

Lisa and Anne

What the ....

2005-02-01T15:24:00.000-08:00

HELL is going on here?
As if I dont have enough distraction to keep me from working.
Well, actually, I don't.

2005-02-01T15:05:00.000-08:00

This is a photo of a really weird guy I went out on a blind date with once. The photo is very cool, however.

2005-02-01T15:03:00.000-08:00

Gum wall in the alley near The Alibi Room.

Pick-up

2005-02-01T13:08:00.000-08:00

OK, this is a call for all the worst pick-up lines you've ever heard from a guy.
Or hell, from a girl for that matter.

It's for this thing I'm doing. Ahem.

No, but really. I think my favorite ever was:
"With legs like that, it's like you were born to walk"

An aside--when I heard this, I had so many come-backs pop up in my head I literally cramped up and just uttered a weak 'thanks'.

2005-02-01T12:20:00.000-08:00

I like to drive.

Shake it, Baby.

2005-02-01T09:39:00.000-08:00

Had my abdominal ultra-sound this morning. Apparently, I have a nice gall bladder.

And we're off....

2005-02-01T09:35:00.000-08:00

Generally speaking, I'm not much of a writer, or very creative at all. The one thing I'm good at is surrounding my self with exceptionally intelligent, witty and broad minded people. Sort of a cultural vampire I suppose.

So the point of this blog (if a point must be assigned) is general amusement...mine to be precise, though I expect others will be amused as well, since said contributors (minus me) will be, as indicated above, up-to-date on all current (+/- 10 years) trends, political goings on and recent ice cream flavors.