Thursday, December 01, 2005
I have actually already started my Christmas shopping, but I still feel WOEFULLY behind. It turns out I can't knit 16 items a day, which I guess I didn't realize before, according to my yarn stash, anyway.
I guess I'll be baking a lot of cookies, and buying a lot of candy!
Speaking of candy....Tori's folks own Rockport Chocolates, a FABULOUS candy store, and I highly recommend any of their products, which are all reasonably priced and so good that I want to cry.
In fact, now I am crying. Sobbing into my keyboard. Because the chocolate covered ginger is so amazing, and I don't have any.
Life is hard.
Seriously, all the truffles are silky smooth, and the almond butter crunch is something that my whole family always fought over.
There are several different assortments, (nuts, cremes, jellies, etc) in both milk and dark chocolates. They will also put together baskets or specialty orders. SO, go buy some. If not for your family or loved ones, then for me. Because I am all out.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Tori, you're absolutely right, I didn't post about your wedding. I was waiting for pictures, and now I have some! Not the ones I took, of course, but the ones your HUSBAND'S (weird!) father took!
I have been to several weddings this year, but this was the one I was most looking forward too. Tori and Dan got married in the Old German Church in Waldoboro, Maine, which was a beautiful place (if somewhat adamant that you not write on the walls) and very charming. By "charming" I mean that it had an outhouse. The rain held off until most people got into the church, which was good, but after that was pretty much unmerciless. The ceremony started 30 minutes late because there was an accident on Rte 1, but eventually things started, and once they did they went off without a hitch. The readers (I was one) were pretty nervous in our little box at the front of the room, but we all got through our pieces without great embarrassment to self.
The ceremony was traditional and perfect for the couple, not too flowery, and not super religious so it didn't feel exclusive. The officiant did say, as she did at rehearsal, that Tori asked us all there that day to be witnesses (not Dan and Tori) which prompted Jim (a reader) to whisper "Just Tori", causing the readers to stifle various nervous giggles, but I wouldn't have noticed if Jim hadn't mentioned it. The couple didn't write their own vows, thankfully. There's a reason someone is supposed to prompt you, folks. It's because you're either going to be a.) too shaky to be understood b.) too quiet to be understood or c.) so sappy that we wish you weren't understood. The bride put it best herself when she proclaimed that she would NOT be saying something along the lines of "Oh, Dan, you're so great, and I love you my big warm blanket of man," a quote which Allen still hasn't stopped repeating.
The reception was at the Rockland Elks Lodge, which was very surreal (for me, anyway) as I had my high school prom there, and I'm pretty sure at least one of my uncles gets hammered there on a regular basis.
The reception hall was dominated by not one, not two, but THREE chocolate fountains, into which guests dipped all matter of sweets, and then went and sat at their tables unable to move. It was so funny watching people try not to rush the chocolate the second it came on, and then for the rest of the evening you could catch people at various tables just STARING at it, like it prehistoric man staring into the flame, or, perhaps, like wedding guests in a food coma.
The event was the first time Tori, Emma, David and I were all together in years, and it was reassuring to see that everyone fell back into our old patterns. Dave used the disposible camera on the table to take pictures of odd things in the room (have you developed those yet, Tori?), Emma's eye almost swelled shut for no reason, she fell over because her dress was too long, then knocked a drink out of my hand and down the front of her dress, Dave claimed it was bound to happen and now she had gotten it out of the way so she could relax, Tori kept disappearing to smoke, I got loud and took to many pictures, and made fun of Emma too much. (Not nice!) Most importantly, we laughed and danced and talked about how beautiful the bride looked, and how handsome the groom, and harrassed them with endless photos and hugs.
(Also we made fun of the dj, who voluntarily called himself DJ Marky Mark.)
Tori's going to read this, and will mostly likely accuse me of something or other, but I have to say that she was absolutely stunning in her wedding gown, and that together with the HUGE smile she had on her face all night made everyone who looked at her say "Doesn't she look beautiful?"
I think everyone there had a great time because we were all 100% behind this relationship. And because Dan's Uncle Dick looks JUST LIKE Tim Curry. Seriously! It's crazy!
Honestly, though, I don't know of any two people more suited to one another, who are both such worthwhile people, and who deserve so much happiness.
I love you guys! Tons!
Monday, October 24, 2005
Friday, October 21, 2005
Here is a picture (taken by Zak) of Kendra and Zak's kitten that Zak took in order to make a submission to www.stuffonmycat.com.
The kitten's name is Trinity, which is actually short for Trinity Brewhouse Effect, which is the name given to a phenomenon that many of you may have experienced. The Trinity Brewhouse Effect generally occurs within groups of 3 or more, though it can happen with 2, and I suppose with 1, but only if you have serious alcohol issues.
The Trinity Brewhouse Effect occurs when it's time to go, which means you have to finish up your beers. There is always one person who has nearly a full beer left in these situations, which means that someone else invariably is going to get another beer, you know, to drink while their friend is finishing his beer. But then someone else finishes their beer, and, after hanging out for a while, sees that HE has time for another beer, and so on, and so on, until everyone has had about 2-3 more beers than they meant to.
This also works with pitchers.
To get back on topic, this is a great cat that I had the pleasure of hanging out with for a week, and here she is with stuff on her. Albeit, a small amount of stuff. But stuff nonetheless.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
I know, I know I owe you all a wedding post. I left you hanging there. But I just had to post this because it's so damn cute and I WANT THEM. But they are not for sale, alas.
Cutest incarnation of rock band EVAR!
The crafter who created these is likely the most amazing person who has ever existed.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Then I have to go shopping because I have NOTHING to wear to the wedding (Did I even MENTION Tori and Dan's wedding??) that qualifies as WARM in any way shape or form. And I'm pretty sure I don't have any shoes, but that just means that I'm screwed because I could never find those in Maine anyway.
Basically, I will not be around all weekend. As per usual. So, I just wanted to take this time to tell all of my friends, ALL of whom I have been neglecting HORRIBLY lately, that I am so, so sorry. I owe you all long, explanatory phone calls, and visits, and cookies, and hugs, and whatever else you ask for me to be in your good graces.
I love you all, I am not mad at anyone, I am just scheduled up to my eyeballs. Apparently, I am trying to prove once and for all that I cannot be in two places at the same time.
I need a doppelganger. Actually, no. According to dictionary.com, I would be looking for a ghostly copy of myself. I was thinking that a doppelganger was more of a look-a-like type. You know, someone who looked like me, but wasn't me, so potentially everything she attempted wouldn't be a total disaster.
Anyway. It's past 11pm, and I'm pretty sure I'm shrinking something as we speak, so I will talk to you all later.
A while ago, Lizzy sent me a link to this postcard, knowing how much I love all things Mythbuster-related. Ever since, I've been meaning to post something about Jon's amazing postcards. I have read each one of them, and wish that I was cool enough to get one in the mail.
And for those of you who are sick of all my blathering on about cats, read Jon's dogblog. It is teh funny.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Jesus God. My cats would put up with this nonsense for about five nanoseconds. Actually, Loki is currently on anti-anxiety drugs (I'm jealous) and I could probably torture him for a minute or two.
One of my favorites is this picture on the left here, but there are some seriously seranged photos on this website. I also love the kitty in the pot on the stove.
What do you guys think?
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
I haven't had a chance to say much lately - not because I don't have much to say, but because there has been so much going on and I don't even know where to start. Also, I wasn't sure if I wanted this blog to occasionally turn into a full-on Angela disclosure type of thing.
I've finally decided that this is acting like writer's block, because it's really keeping me from writing at all. So, those of you who aren't interested in gory family details, please read one of the excellent webcomics I have linked to on the left.
For the rest of you - my Circus Family has EXPLODED over the past week!
Where to even begin!
During the latter half of our week in Seattle, I got a phone call from Eric that I handed off to Allen because a.) I didn't feel good and b.) I was trying to take a nap. I could hear Eric yelling on the other end of the phone...it didn't sound good. When Allen filled me in, I felt like calling my friends, telling them to sell my house, and then asking them to sell the proceeds so I could begin my new life in the Pacific Northwest.
Turns out Eric went to go visit Ivan (the other, younger brother) at work, where Ivan chose to tell Eric that he had slept with his (Eric's) ex-girlfriend, the one that Eric had been trying to get back together with for the past two months. Eric kicked Ivan's ass, then went straight to my house, where he proceeded to tell my Mom that he left Ivan on the ground, and that the cops had just showed up.
Mom took this about as well as could be expected, which means not very well. She was of course more worried about Ivan than Eric, because Eric was standing in front of her (probably foaming at the mouth) and Ivan, as far as she knew, was laying in a crummy alley on Thayer Street. Eric could not understand her point of view, and let her know that in no uncertain terms what he thought of Ivan and anyone who would even think of defending him, and threatened further violence upon his person should he run into him. Then he took off.
Mom was extremely worked up and called all of my friends (hey guys!) to rally round. She worked herself into such a tizzy that they had to take her to a clinic the next day, where a doctor told her that her heart rate was so high that she could have had a stroke. She gave Mom 3 different prescriptions, including one for an eye infection she had developed (apparently the minute we left), one for her blood pressure, and one for anxiety. She was afraid to take that one, so my friend Matt took one to show her that it was ok.
For the record, I do not approve of my mother ignoring the advice of a medical professional, and instead choosing to use my close friend as a guinea pig. Just so's you know.
Also, the day after we returned (Sunday) Mom took and extra couple of pills and slept so deeply that she didn't hear either myself or Allen come to the door for 24 hours. I thought she was pissed off and ignoring me - she was drugged out of her mind. I guess the pill anxiety wore off.
Meanwhile, Ivan claimed to be ok, but no one could see him because he had very long hours over the next few days (Read: My face doesn't look so hot and I want to heal up a bit before you see me). He did check in with me to let me know that he was able to finish his shift that night, though he kept getting dizzy and falling over, and was unable to use one arm. Of course, he didn't go to the hospital, because everyone in my family (including myself to some extent) has some "I'm fine, my eyeballs are only bleeding a little" gene. "Doctors, Schmoctors!" we always say. How any of us have reached breeding age is beyond me.
What made things even more excited is that Eric, who had been on the island of Nantucket all summer, now needed a place to stay for a couple of days (with his two kooky roommates, David and Brandon) while he sorted through all of his belongings (which were living in our basement) and chose which things to bring with him on his cross-country move to California. San Francisco specifically. To become Rock Stars.
The problem lay in the fact that the entire time Eric was in town, my Mom lived in mortal fear that he would go after Ivan. Of course, once Eric had cooled down, we all knew he would do nothing of the sort, and he even said as much, but Mom spent each day a miserable, twitchy mess anyway. And Eric kept dragging his stay out - first he was only staying Wednesday night, then Thursday, and then oh, I guess Friday too! They finally left Sunday morning, finally bringing to an end the tearful hand-wringing. And the "why don't you care about your brother?" comments. She was angry with me for being too nice to Eric, since she couldn't understand his actions and thought that I was condoning them.
For the record - I told Eric that I found his actions to be terrible, I could understand his anger, and Hell, I would have taken a swing at the kid, too, but he shouldn't have hurt him so badly, or told his mother such horrible things. Also, Ivan and the girl in question did the deed after she and Eric broke up, but before he tried to get back together with her.
When I see Ivan, I will first make sure he's ok, then I will tell him that he is a pecker-head.
And my dad was calling a million times a day, because if I don't answer the phone he keeps calling, and calling, and calling until I break down and answer the phone, resigning myself to an hour long phone conversation, during which time Mom will try to communicate with me no less than 5 times (Exaggerated whisper: "Is that Dad?") unless I hide in my room.
Allen is really pushing to begin the "Go Back To Maine" campaign on Mom - I'm not sure what to think right now. But I do know that I am jealous of Eric's cross-country move.
Monday, October 03, 2005
Tra la. Back from vaca! We had a most righteous time, to borrow a phrase. Pioneer Square, where Seattle was originally built, is a pretty cool place. As a history nerd, I found the underground tour to be fascinating. Seattle was the original Sin City, was built on sawdust and corruption, and general human stupidity. It kind of felt like being at home.
Pike Place Market was definitely all it was cracked up to be. We spent one afternoon running around and collecting the ingredients for a lovely fondue. It was so good, we blew up the fondue pot. Don't ask, I don't remember anything from Physics 101 anymore.
We shopped around, I bought some yarn, we visited the Fremont Troll. That's an actual VW Bug that he's holding.
We went to this sushi place called Blue C that has sushi on a conveyor belt. VERY DANGEROUS. So easy to eat so much sushi! But tasty! And it actually came to about $22 per person, so not so bad.
Also of mega-note to us geeks is the Science Fiction Museum, located under the Space Needle. The museum is part of the personal collection of Paul Allen, of Microsoft fame, and consists of props and first edition hardbound and paperback Sci/Fi novels. There were some excellent videos, and some great interactive displays as well. The best part was the way the museum showed how writers of Science Fiction have predicted many of the serious problems our society is facing today, and how much of Science Fiction serves as a warning against destroying the environment. It was heartening to see the genre taken so seriously. We ended the day by watching Buckaroo Bonzai, though, so I guess we were all done with that whole serious thing.
Anyway, I would like to say that it's good to be back, but - it's not. I will give you an update on Circus Family later on. Right now I am swamped at work. And depressed that House isn't back on until FREAKING NOVEMBER. Stupid Fox!
Friday, September 23, 2005
Now that I feel like I don't know my brother at all , my mom is full-on depressed mode, my dad thinks everyone hates him, my other brother is moving to California but first wants to crash at my house for several days with his buddy's, Allen is pissed because this is supposed to occur during Rosh Hashonah, which I guess is an important holiday (or something), now seems as good a time as any to tuck my tail between my legs and make a break for it.
Seattle, here we come.
Many stories and much pictures upon my return. Or, perhaps during my trip. Who can say.
Most of you know or know of my little brother Ivan. Ivan is 20 and a cook at a local restaurant. He's a great guy, very sweet, and I love him to pieces. He lived with Allen and I for a while when he was in between apartments, and all I can say is that he was the best roommate I have ever had. (Of course, if you look at my roommate history, that might not be saying much).
We have been close ever since he was a baby, and he's always been the one family member I felt like I could count on to be "normal". Generally I don't approve of normalcy, per se, valuing instead the quirkiness in others, but in my family, normalcy is in short supply.
Why am I telling you all this? Simply because Ivan totally dropped a bomb on me two nights ago.
Ivan asked Allen and I to pick him up after work (midnight, mind you) because he wanted to see us before we left for our trip to Seattle (Saturday). I thought it a bit odd, but as he had been incommunicado for the past month because he couldn't afford minutes on his damn TRACK PHONE, I had no idea what his deal was.
Turns out he met a girl. (I think really, when you get down to it, 90% of stories start this way)
They've been dating for about a week.
At the end of said week, they tried to get MARRIED but couldn't because the paperwork caused them a problem.
HE BOUGHT RINGS. They've been wearing them around.
Anyway, I felt like I had been punched swiftly in the stomach when I found out that not only did my baby brother almost get married without fucking telling me, but to someone I hadn't even met, and that he had known for such a short time. WTF.
Apparently, he'd been aquainted with her already, so though they've only been dating for a week he had "hung out with her a couple of times before".
THAT made me feel MUCH BETTER.
That was SARCASM just in case you aren't sure.
I think he was a little hurt that I wasn't all excited for him, but I certainly didn't say something like "You're making a huge mistake!!", even though that's what I was thinking.
I just kept asking him WHY??? He just kept answering that he loves her and wants to spend the rest of his life with her, in a "duh" manner. Then later, he privately told me that he felt broken, because he had been with all these girls and just didn't feel anything for them, but this one, he couldn't stop feeling all gooey inside.
I just feel so WEIRD about this whole thing. Now they are apparently holding off on their nuptial plans, but I don't know for how long. I asked him if I could please be involved in some way next time, like, could I come? Or, at least know about it in advance? And he said "of course", but it doesn't really make me feel any better. In fact, I feel like I swallowed a bowling ball.
As my friend Ian would say, isn't it fun having a CIRCUS family!!?
Thursday, September 22, 2005
For your Safe at Work amusement: I bring you the next in a series of Weirdo-Japanese Flash Games, Grow Cube! You may have already played the original version of Grow, and even Grow RPG, but I think this latest version is the best. Grow RPG is fun, but not as quick as the first or the latest version, thus increasing your chances of a.) getting caught at work or b.) feeling guilty for playing so much at work.
Of course, if you ever feel b.), then you are a giant sissy-pants.
Monday, September 19, 2005
Liberal geeks everywhere have to love these cards!
I don't think that they would be much fun to play with, though. Magic is fun because it's Fantasy, this game would just be depressing.
Kind of like that Jack the Ripper Mystery Rummy game I got my friends, who were all so into it that they went to the library to research Saucy Jack, and were all so horrified that they stopped playing.
It's all fun and games until someone cries their eyes out.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Sent to me about a MONTH ago, and I am just now getting around to checking it out.
All I can say is, if these death-by-caffeine calculations are accurate, then even Sidesh0w doesn't have anything to worry about.
(comic via www.toothpastefordinner.com)
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
In other news: It's almost lunch time. Yee-ha.
After a truly excellent epidsode of House last night, Allen and I got suckered into watching a bit of Fox News because there was a Hugh Laurie teaser during the commercial. I expected the whole "Gee whiz, can you believe this guy is British???" thing, but the only other body of work they credited him with was freaking Stuart Goddamn Little, and though I did love the book as a child, and I'm sure Mr. Laurie is excellent in all these films, I was STUNNED that this was the only think that the newscaster mentioned. I mean, I understand that all of us ignorant Americans may not be aware of his brilliance in the Jeeves and Wooster series, as it ran on PBS, a channel that most people seem to think is only there for pledge drives and Antiques Roadshow. And I'm sure that, sadly, most of us are unaware of his brilliant sketch comedy in A Bit of Fry and Laurie, not to mention several runs on Black Adder, but come on! He's been in other feature films! OK, most of them are children's movies. And character roles. In Britain. FINE! I'm taking my ball and I'm going home!
All I'm saying is that they acted like the guy just showed up on the scene, and wasn't he just PRECIOUS with his little British accent. Which was obnoxious.
I was a little saddened when I read in his imdb profile that Douglas Adams had orignally wanted him to play Arthur Dent. That would have been bloody brilliant.
Seriously, this yarn thing is out of control. I finished another hat, that makes 5 hats so far. I started another hat last night, while watching House. (Best show on prime-time TV, IMHO) I ended up dropping a stitch, so I had to tear the whole thing out because I couldn't figure out how to pick-up stitches around a circular needle. I guess I could have pulled out the dpns, but - it just seemed easier to start over.
Anyway, I had found a really good deal on some Noro yarn and made this pretty little rib knit hat out of it (I know I keep promising, but pictures to come) and now I don't want to knit with ANYTHING ELSE EVER. I bought 3 different kinds of their yarn - the hat is made out of Silk Garden, which is a wool, mohair, and silk blend. The colorway is amazing, the colors blend to gether so beautifully and I was shocked to realize that at the end of the project (which used the whole skein) there was not one repeat color!
I started working with a second kind last night, the Kureyon which is 100% wool. I imagine it would felt extremely well, as it was already a little sticky to work with. It's not as flexible or stretchy as some of the cheap-ass yarn I'm used to working with, so it was a little tricky - I kept thinking my tension was the problem, but no.
I just wanted to play with the 3rd kind of yarn, so I enlisted Allen to help me wind a skein of Iro into a ball. This is a chunky wool/silk blend, and though I haven't worked with it so far, I know it's going to be my favorite. It is so gorgeously soft and the COLORS have to be seen to be believed. The skein looked predominately black until we started unwinding it, and even Allen was impressed.
I really shouldn't buy any more right now, as I have a tremendous number of project to finish. I will be good. Now I understand, though, why people are willing to knit themselves $100-$200 sweaters. Because you would want to wear this stuff every day!
Friday, September 09, 2005
Looks like Brownie's been yanked back to D.C.
I know he won't ever be held publicly accountable, but it still smacks of "puppy-whacked-on-nose-with-newspaper", and I love it.
Fuck this guy. He's a total waste of space. In fact, I think we should break him down into his constituent atoms and fling them back out into the space from whence they came.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
I know it's a little early to be thinking about Christmas shopping, but when all the proceeds go to a good cause, why not?
www.etsy.com is a website for crafty people to sell their hand-made wares - basically, ebay for crafters.
Crafters United is a specific store on this site, to which some folks have contributed some really incredible hand-made donations. All proceeds go to benefit the Red Cross, plus you would get a lovely little something in return.
Basically what I'm saying is, all y'all gonna get presents from this place for Christmas.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Here's the first thing I ever made out of yarn that wasn't a long rectangle.
It's basically 2 rectangles and 2 trapezoids instead.
Who says geometry class wasn't useful?
The photo with the hand in it is to give you some perspective. Of course, you don't know how big the person's hand is, so this doesn't help you at all. It, in fact, does nothing but leave you with more questions.
I made it out of Red Sprinkle Lion Brand Wool-Ease, on size 7 and 8 needles, and using the world's easiest Debbie Bliss pattern.
I totally screwed it up when I first tried stitching it together - I didn't have any safety or straight pins, so I held the pieces together with souble pointed needles, which was marginally successful at best. The first sleeve was completely attached to the body before I realized that it was attached entirely to the FRONT of the garment.
Give me a break, it was almost 2am. And I finished the damn thing. And it looks fine now. The baby I made it for (Allen's niece Noa - yes, a girl named Noa, with no 'h', it's cute, shut up) sent me a nice thank you note, so I think she likes it.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
This year's Check-In event, or Opening Weekend, was not too bad. I didn't see too many train wrecks, and until the last day the time really flew. Yesterday dragged on and on for some reason.
I did manage to make a scarf and two hats this weekend - actually, all three have some finishing left, but I'm pretty impressed with myself, I have to say. I made a hat for myself that only half of the people I showed it to thought was dorky, so that's not bad. Hats are inherently dorky, but I have already frost-bit my ears once in my life, and that is enough for me. Friggin' HURTS.
Anyway, I made the hat out of the yarn on the left - The hat more or less looks like the hat on the manequin head there, except a little more knobby around the decreases on the top. Actual real picture to follow, when we purchase the digital camera we've decided to buy for our trip to Seattle. You know, so we can get action shots of the guys who throw the fish in Pike's Place.
I feel kind of awful talking about hats right now. There are so many things going on right now that I want to comment on, but that all deserves a little more time than I can give it (being at work and all). Knitting is very meditative for me and I have had a lot of time to think, but not so much get my thoughts down.
Monday, August 29, 2005
I barely even understand what I am typing right now, I am so tired. I'm at school, where I will be all freakin' weekend, for new and returning student check-in. They made us get here at 7:30 this morning, but I didn't see a single student until 8:30. Right now it's 9:50, and I've seen 2 students, and emailed Tori a bit. There was no need for us to get here so early! Wah! (I am oficially whining).
I have that so-tired-my-stomach-hurts thing going on. And I've eaten nothing but candy - guess I should try to eat that banana before it gets really busy.
My poor little blog will probably be neglected as hell over the next week, as I am forced to work a RIDICULOUS number of hours.
I should have brought some knitting. I made my first hat! It's a little short in the crown for me, but I really liked making it and I might make a couple more to send to my friend Dan, who works for the American Cancer Society so he can put them in the free hat bin. I'll have to tweak the pattern to fit my giant cranium.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
It would be a lot easier if I pulled a Tammy and ranked my players by sexiness. I actually think that there is something to that - the hotter someone thinks they are, the more egotistical they are, and ego can take you pretty far on the field.
Fuck, what the hell am I talking about. Jesus.
I will give you an update in a couple hours. Hopefully, I don't end up picking someone who gets injured in the first game, like in 2000 when I picked Testeverde and his fucking Achilles tendon blew, plus I was stuck with "Rocket" Ishmael.
It can't be THAT bad. Sigh.
Friday, August 26, 2005
Also, everyone wants me to have a blessed day. Which is a lot of pressure. I'm not sure how to have a blessed day, and, now that I think of it, titling my post as I did probably isn't the best way to start.
Uh-uh. I just checked. I have 33 messages. It's a sign!!!!!
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
My blog hero, Dan Miller (www.planetdan.net) today contemplates what he would try to save if his house were burning down.
I hate stuff like this, because it makes me feel like I should collect all my most precious possessions and put them in a box by the nearest exit, and that's just a crazy way to live.
Also, I'm pretty sure the cats would protest.
Speaking of cats, I actually have a cat exit plan, which is to grab my car keys and as many cats as I can manage (we have 3 official cats and 1 unofficial cat) and throw them in the car so they can't run away. I told Allen about this one night as we were lying in bed - I think if he hadn't been so tired he would have told me I was a giant nut bag; as it was, I just got a "What? Ok" kind of response.
I still think it's a good plan, though.
If you woke up with your house on fire, would you run right outside, or would you try to save anything? What would you save?
Thursday, August 18, 2005
I think I read this article printed in the NY Post yesterday (via www.waiterrant.net) with my mouth hanging open the entire time. I literally can't believe that a server would EVER identify a table as the "Jew Couple" or that an establishment like an upscale restaurant would think it good business to defend such a practice!
And why are there so many articulate people who can't see the difference between "being too PC" and hurtful stereotypes?
Anyway. Read Waiter Rant. It's hilarious, and will fill you with self-righteous anger, which is my favorite kind.
Monday, August 15, 2005
Allen dragged me kicking and screaming to a wedding of a friend this weekend. Getting dressed up and wearing high heels in 100+ degree heat is not my idea of a good time. What I wanted to be doing was sitting on my ass, preferrably at the beach, contemplating which book/magazine I wanted to read first and what sort of seafood to have for dinner. Instead, I was dragged to a church, where I surprising a.) didn't hate the service and b.) didn't burst into flame.
It was a bit stressful getting there, as first we frantically searched for (and didn't find) my necklace. When we finally left the house, we were terrifically late. Partway down the road, Allen realized that we forgot the CAMERA, so we had to turn around and get that, and then we were officially FRIGHTENINGLY late, as Allen had been asked to give the first reading and it would have been embarrasing if he wasn't there.
We actually made it with five minutes to spare, but I spent the first half of the service trying to a.) not throw up and b.) cease sweating. I was successful in the former, but not so much the latter.
The reception was a full two hours after the ceremony, so we went to a near-by chain restaurant and had some drinks and snacks beforehand. As I mentioned last week, I was nervous about the reception because some old roommates of mine were supposed to be there, but they no-showed, so the rest of the evening went pretty smoothly.
I proceeded straight to the bar, where I spent a goodly portion of the evening, emptying out the contents of my wallet. The first time I sidled up to order my standard whisky sour starter, there was a very serious young man of about 11 - 13 years of age just ahead of me. He pulled out his wallet, and said to the bartender, "A shot of grenadine, please." The bartender was of course horrified and, while pouring him the shot, said, "You know that's pure sugar, don't you?" to which the kid replied, "I wouldn't have it any other way."
I am proud to say that I actually managed to NOT snort into my drink at this point.
That was pretty much the most bizarre portion of the evening, except the part when the groom asked for audience participation and had everyone sing a camp song about a moose who, apparently, fell asleep in the water and then decomposed. That was pretty weird.
Also, I really had fun dancing with my friends Dawn and Ian. Dawn is pregnant and just starting to show - Ian and I kept trying to get her to order our drinks but she wouldn't do it. Ian and I were throughly digusted with the music the "DJ" chose, it was like he put in "Cheesy Wedding Songs Vol. 1" and went home. But once we each had a shot and some of the Inglenook table wine, we got our "Super Freak" on. I certainly paid for all that leaping around the next day, as I could barely walk around on my left foot.
I think I could actually use a shot of grenadine right about now.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Have you guys seen this thing before? My brother Eric brought one back from the island of Nantucket, and he says it's really huge out there.
It's a mildly diverting dice game. You try to close out numbers 1-10 by rolling dice - it's pretty mindless, but if you add shots and dollar bills, I think we might have a pretty good time on our hands.
I bring it up, because I was thinking that after the general summer horribleness is over here at J&W, I would like to start a game night. Poker, dice games, whatever. But I think that there should be money involved. Because that would make it more fun. And beer. And perhaps some peanuts.
Oh, man. I'm not sure what's funnier, the item, or the fact that it's currently being won by tesla_phan.
Which means that tesla_fan was taken, sadly.
Ok, now I'm depressed.
...but I have added a few blogs to the 'Nifty Blogs' section of MN. (I told you I was pissy today.)
Visit the Land Of Briz, home of cocktail of the week and bouncing ninja kitties.
If ninja kitties are your thing, check Drinker/Thinker. We both love cocktail monkeys.
For the more code-minded, please see check out SideShow, Web Designer Extraordinaire. I understand approximately 2% of his blog, but that 2% is pretty funny.
I don't think it's necessary to comment on every sentence spoken in a sitcom. I don't think the "information" that Fox News spouts is generally important enough to be commented on. The fifteenth time I see a funny commerical - guess what? Not Funny Anymore. At least, not funny enough to comment on.
My mom talks through every f'ing TV show that comes on. Nothing is not worthy of some comment, which leads to a story, which means that I miss what ever show I was trying to watch. And even if you smile, nod, make a "hmm? Really?" sort of comment, and then pointedly stare at the TV, she keeps going. She is completely unphased.
I don't even really care about the TV. I don't really like to watch it all the time, I feel like a slug when I get stuck in front of it for hours, especially if Allen has the remote. Then I feel like I'm watching him watch TV, because I can't watch more than one show at a time, and he can't watch less than 3. I think I just watch it as a barrier - like, maybe if I watch TV I will look sufficiently busy and people will leave me alone. It doesn't work, but I think I can get away with not being terribly attentive if I have the TV as an excuse. Reading a book certainly doesn't work, and besides, I have a million knitting projects I want to get to before Christmas rolls around.
This morning, Mom took exception with the comments of a stylist on the Today show. He said women of a "certain age" should get shorter cuts and have 'side-swept' bangs to keep their hair out of their faces. Mom thought that this was ridiculous, because she tries to hide her face with her hair. I was so aggravated - I mean, it's one thing to have that feeling yourself, I told her, because you have self-esteem issues, but not everyone does. Some people LIKE it when other people can see their face. Then I went to work. I'm sure she's pissed at me now, but whatever. I understand that she has issues, but she's the one who acts like no one else understands what she's going through - so why is she so shocked when some people are actually ok? I don't get it.
On the plus side, even though I would rather have my eye lashes ripped out one by one, I have another wedding to go to this weekend. We're not seated at the same table as our friends from out of town, oh no - we're with my old roommates from RI that I haven't talked to in months. This should be REALLY comfortable. I am looking forward to being a pissy, drunk bitch the entire time. No, not really. I will behave, for Allen's sake.
God, I am whiney and spoiled today.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Last night, I made a few pies to throw in the freezer, and I had to keep blotting my face to make sure I didn't sweat into the damn things. I stuck my head in the freezer for a minute, and that seemed to help. I made 2 4-berry pies and one 3-berry because I ran out of freakin' strawberries. I think tonight I'll just make a plain old blueberry with the last of the blueberries. We sure got a lot of mileage out of those 12 pints. I think I only have a little more than 2 left.
I plan to use a cup of them to make blueberry syrup to go over the cheesecake ice cream I made the other day. We've been so busy, we haven't had a chance to eat it yet, but I tried it and it is pretty freakin' fabulous.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Like knitting, for example. I finished my first, actual, honest-to-goodness knitted garment (pictures someday). I made my future-niece Noa a little red sweater, and even I had to admit it came out really, really well. It was so cute, once I sewed it together properly, and I am much less intimidated by the entire process. Of course, I was up until 3 in the goddamn morning, because the first sleeve I sewed on came almost all the way down the front of the garment, and wasn't really on the back at all - in other words, for some reason I thought it would be fun to make a wing instead of a sleeve. Thank God for the fact that a.) everyone else was sleeping so the didn't have to deal with me and b.) I have built up some impressivly filthy phrases to spew at moments like these, or I might have had an aneurysm.
It's too bad that I only seem to be able to make time to do the things I really like when I should be sleeping. I am pretty exhausted after last week's output - 2 nights in a row, after I got home from Allen's mum's house, visiting with screamy babies, I did ridiculous kitchen stuff. Saturday morning, I spent 2 hours running to four different stores to get things for dinner, because I wanted to make things special. Katherine, Allen's mom, retired (I'm SO jealous) and we were having a family get together. I made turkey burgers (full of roasted garlic, fresh sage from the garden, and provolone cheese) and a caprese salad from heirloom tomatoes. They looked SO beautiful, and though everyone was a little surprised at all the colors (purple, green, yellow, orange) they were AMAZING.
I also made the world's easiest, yet best, pie for dessert. It's a recipe from my favorite diner back home, Moody's. If you don't know Moody's, well, I feel sorry for you.
I will share the recipe, though, and hope I don't get sued. It's from What's Cooking at Moody's Diner, and I strongly suggest that you get it if you like to bake at all, because they make the best pies I have ever eaten. I used Pillsbury dough for the piecrust right out of the box, because it's so fast, it's good, and I've been making fucking jam and goddamn ice cream all week and I'm tired, goddamn it. Christ. Anyway:
Moody's Four-Berry Pie
1 cup strawberries
1 cup blackberries
1 cup blueberries
1 cup raspberries
1 cup sugar
2 tbsp tapioca
dash of salt
1/2 tsp cinnamon
2 tbsp butter
Put berries in unbaked 9-inch pie shell. Mix sugar, tapioca, salt and cinnamon, and pour over berries. Dot with butter. Cover with top crust. Bake at 350 degrees for 1 hour.
Actually, the recipe says bake at 325, but if you buy the frozen pie at Moody's to bring home, they say 350 degrees, so that's what I did and it came out great. You may want to put some foil around the crust so it doesn't get too dark. Also, it's best to let this pie cool completely before you serve it up, but I've never been able to let it sit for that long before someone gets into it.
I'm going to try to make a few more of these and freeze them so we can have them in the winter and dream of summer.......
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
I am almost giddy trying to decide who to send the "I'm sorry.....you're so totally gay" card to.
And every vegetarian/vegan friend that I haven't already managed to alienate is SO getting a giant meat card.
First, we made strawberry jam. This is a relatively simple jam to make - rinse, slice, and crush berries, put in pot, add pectin and sugar, put in jars, boil jars (so you don't kill your friends with scary bacteria) let cool. Boom, done. It was so simple, we were going to do more, but by the time we got around to it (read: it was too freakin' hot so we had to take a couple weeks off from standing around boiling water) it was raspberry season.
Raspberries, I thought, would be even easier than strawberries. No slicing involved! Just pick over, rinse, crush, cook, pour into jars, presto - raspberry jam. Unfortunately, I didn't realize how much work the "picking over" part was. Raspberries apparently cannot WAIT to become moldy. Their life's mission is not to spread their seeds, so much as become furry, mushy, nasty moldy little things. So, that process took forever and we only made one batch. I turned the rest of the raspberries into ice cream, which came out so well that I forgive their persistent moldiness.
This past weekend, Allen and I toddled up to Maine to visit my Dad and attend Tori's bridal shower (which I have only called a baby shower 72 times, sorry Tori) and more about that shindig later, but on the way home we picked up 12 pints of blueberries. Why? Because I am a MORON.
I thought, for some reason, that this would be the easiest jam of all! What a fool! Do you know what you have to do to little, teeny, tiny blueberries before you can crush them up? Remove the STEMS!!!!
If you haven't seen wild Maine blueberries before - well, I feel sorry for you because those giant sour things you get in the grocery store SUCK - they are about the size of a pea. Mom and I sat and picked stems off berries for hours. I know it was hours, because we had taped the knew Fox Reality-show sensation, "So, You Think You Can Dance?" and watched all three hours of it (with a break for dinner) while we fondled blueberries.
We didn't even get to the jam part, we'll do that tonight. You fuckers better appreciate this bullshit come ChrismaHanuKwanzaMass, I tells ya.
The only good thing about this, is that we didn't by TWENTY-FOUR pints. Whew. Seriously, though, I'm going to make some blueberry ice cream, and then maybe some blueberrie cheesecake icecream, so that should be good. And then, muffins. And then, the WORLD!
Anyway, I am excited to get my "I told you so" comment from Tori, who said that she would never make anything that you can buy more than 30 varieties of in the store. I still think it's fun to do some of these things on your own, though, and I like the idea of eating local fruits and vegetables year round. And there is nothing better than opening a jar of homemade strawberry jam in February, when you haven't seen the sun in weeks, and just thinking of summer. Nothing beats that, except maybe blueberry jam.
Next project: pickles!
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
http://www.single-tapete.de/maine.html (via http://imp_perfect.blogspot.com/)
The more I think about the funnier it is. I think it would be fun if they made them like giant Colorform playsets. Your living-room could be the back drop for a wild and crazy 2-dimensional party.
Personally, I can't seem to get rid of all the extra people in my house, so I can't imagine wanting to add some fake ones. Then, I also can't imagine being so depressed that I would want "Adrian" to tell me about his record collection, either.
Bu that is not the point of this post. The point is that I spent 15 minutes finding a parking space in the remote vicinity of Thayer Street (read: uphill a half mile in 90 friggin' degree heat) to get a sandwich for myself and my mom.
Unfortunately, Ivan was involved in making a sandwich for 98 identical RISD students when I came in, so some other employee made my sandwich. It sounded like it would be good - tuna on rye, lettuce, tomato, melted swiss, spinach, mushrooms, and a little bacon thrown in just so I wouldn't be feeling healthy or anything. Sadly, by the time I got home, threw mom's sandwich at her, ran out the door, and got to work, the top layer of bread was completely soaked through w/what I can only assume was spinach dampness. GROSS, in other words. And, seeing as my lunch break was technically over (by more than 10 minutes) nearly impossible to eat surreptitiously, as a sandwich relies on both pieces of bread to hold it together, and one had to be thrown away.
I can only assume that the employees of Geoff's have never been forced to eat this sandwich. For some reason, it is listed as a customer favorite. Perhaps these customers are skinny chicks who look for reasons not to eat their lunch, I don't know. Perhaps my sandwich guy put the toppings on in the wrong order, or I should have had a bulky roll. In any case, I am worried about Ivan's future sandwich-making career if this sort of thing is not nipped right in the bud. I will have to call him tonight, I suppose, and suggest some re-training or menu re-writing.
Or maybe next time, I'll just get the pb&j.
Monday, July 25, 2005
I think I'll have to go home at lunch and pat my salt cellar. http://catalog.fullpond.com/altonbrown/category.aspx?CatalogName=General&CategoryName=All+Merchandise
Friday, July 22, 2005
The concert was fab, they played stuff from Motorcade of Generosity, which made me happy, but no "Mr. Mastodon Farm", which made me sad. Such, however, is life - a series of ups and downs, punctuated by the occasional brick wall.
I would just like to send a shout out to The Sketchy Guy Who Wouldn't Leave Us Alone: Thank you for telling us we are "Smaht". I also appreciated some of the Art History discussion, and your observation that one art form can help you better appreciate other art forms was astute, if somewhat long-winded. However, once the music starts, the lips need to shut. Besides the fact that you obviously weren't getting anywhere with either one of us, you were allegedly interested in seeing this band, as you purchased a ticket. It's hard to concentrate on the music when you are busy explaining to the girls next to you that you love to people-watch the "idiot masses", but that doesn't make you an elitest. Frankly, you are lucky that the show was so very mellow. If you had been trying to yap through a more aggressive set, say, by Gwar, which I mention because you asked if we didn't think they were genuises, I would have been forced to toss your diminutive self a few rows back.
Other than that guy, the crowd was great. Everyone was thrilled to be seeing the band, since they so rarely come around. It was a surprise sell-out as well - one of the bouncers told us that before the day of show they only had 100 presales, so they all thought they could take the night off. Only 300 people were anticipated, so the band must have been shocked.
The songs from the new album, "Wheels", "No Phone" and a couple others were ok, but it was great to hear "The Distance" and "Frank Sinatra" live. Hopefully they will come back a little more often now, after the audience sang along w/every friggin' song.
Hey. That rhymed.
Anyway, we had a great time, the venue (www.lupos.com) was slick, if extremely, mind-meltingly hot, and we had a nice position right by the bar. I would go again, in the winter.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
I'm going to see Cake tonight, (www.cakemusic.com) a band I adore but have never been able to see live. I am dragging my friend Anne with me (actually, she's happy to go, but I'm grumpy so it feels like I'm dragging people along today) and I am concerned about the heat level in the venue. Allen assumed that there would be air conditioning - I told him most likely, no, in that way that meant "Honey, we'll be lucky if we don't all asphixiate by 10:30". Oh, well.
Seriously, it is hotter than Hades in here. I can feel myself dehydrating as we speak.
It didn't help that as I pulled into the parking lot today after lunch, the damn car doors wouldn't lock. I got back in the car and realized that the parking lights and left blinker were flashing. I tried to start the car, and though the air conditioning and radio and dashlights came on, the car wouldn't start, not in park, not in neutral, nothing worked. A co-worker was trying to help by saying things like "Well, if you don't get the lights turned off the batteries going to die. Look, it's just draining. It's dying. Try starting the car again. Can you start the car?" I threw the manual at her to give her something to do while I tried not to explode due to frustration. The car is a '95 Mercury Sable that Allen's dad gave us when he bought his new car, and we've only had it for a few weeks, so I am not used to it's little "I've decided to fuck with you for no reason" quirks. I know all cars have them, I just didn't want to a.) leave my car unlocked and b.) flashing.
My co-worker decided it was the panic button, I must have hit it by accident. So I hit it to show her that, unlike the past five minutes, the panic button causes the lights to falsh and the horn to go off repeatedly. I got the horn to stop, but the lights wouldn't quit flashing, flashing, FLASHING. The next oft repeated comment was "It's because of security", and I had to explain that I didn't care, because I had now called Allen 6 times on his damn cell phone and he hadn't answered, even though I knew he wouldn't be able to help, and as I didn't want to yell at my co-worker, I needed to yell at Allen.
I slammed inside to call Allen at work, because I was too pissed to remember the goddamn number for his office. He was in a good mood, which was ridiculous, because I was hot and rippin' mad. Anyway, he didn't know what to do either, but I brought him out to the parking lot, where I solved the car problem by turning the hazards on and off a couple times, and then trying to restart the car which finally worked, and the damn blinker went off.
Anyway. The concert should be fun.
Monday, July 18, 2005
The thing that is really shocking is that even though I got engaged in October, people still randomly congratulate me when they hear about it from someone else. This happens so often that when a boss walked up to me without warning last week and said "Congratulations!" because we had met a goal, for a moment I thought she meant on my engagement. It's very disorienting.
One of the things about getting married is that you are suddenly overwhelmed with a completely ludicrous number of decisions and, even worse, an insane number of questions. "What kind of dress/shoes/food/music/invitations are you going to have? What kind of ceremony? How many people?" I thought people would just pester me with "When's the date?" because that's annoying enough when you don't have one, but for some reason they still expect you to know where you're holding the damn reception! When I get these sorts of questions, I always want to say, "Lady, (guys don't really care so they don't tend to ask except to be nice, and they're pretty glad when you say 'I don't know' and they can change the subject) I'm fucking lucky I know who I'm getting married TOO let alone where the fuck it's going to be" but that's not the kind of thing to say to potential guests/gift-givers/in-laws, so instead I just grin and say "oh, I'll figure all that out some day!" Gag.
One thing I will definitely, under no circumstances, do at my wedding is toss the friggin' bouquet. I am sorry if you are a good friend of mine and are reading this post and are now incredibly disappointed. I promise I will make it up to you somehow. I just can't stand the entire process, nor do I like the idea of lining up my single friends like so much meat, nor do I like the idea of making them pretend that they are really excited about catching the bouquet because it is endowed with magical properties and somehow will help them finally, FINALLY GOD catch a man. Because that's why we're all here, right ladies? Right?
I emailed my friend Tori earlier today and told her that if I have a DJ (which, at this point, I hope I don't have to have) I will ask him to announce this in his best game-show-host voice:
"Alright, everybody! At this time, the bride would like to ask all the single (don't you hate how those assholes in their little fucking vests say sing-gell, all sleazy like?) ladies to please keep doing what ever they are doing, do not, I repeat, do not join her on the dance floor, as she will not be throwing, hurling, chucking, winging, or otherwise tossing her bouquet. She is an incredibly selfish person and wants to keep all the pretty, pretty flowers to herself. Thank you."
That's of course, if I have a DJ. Because what I really, really want is to rent a large speaker and have Ivan (youngest brother) hook up his ipod complete with a list of music pre-selected by yours truly.
Basically, I look at this whole getting married thing as a big excuse to orchestrate my own dance party.
And also I love my fiance' and stuff.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
We got to the house and upon entering the kitchen, we immediately realized that the refrigerator should not be making the loud "GRRRRRRRRR" noise it was making. We opened the freezer (for that is where it seemed like the sound was coming from) and discovered that, not only had the freezer stopped freezing, it had ceased to be functional several days ago. If you would like to experience a Funk that is unprecedented, a Funk that would make Bootsy himself (http://www.blackmeninamerica.com/Bootsy%20Collins_small.jpg) feel lame, and Funk to end all Funks, open up a freezer full of old food that ceased working several days ago.
Needless to say, in very short order we were completely incapacitated and unable to even complete cleaning it out. We certainly were no longer feeling like any "alone" time was a good idea (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). Instead, we talked, and Allen let me know that he thinks Mom is going to be with us at least through Christmas, if not longer.
Also needless to say, after this exchange I needed to go to bed immediately.
When I woke up this morning, I stumbled into the bathroom and went to switch on a light, but instead knocked an empty Dos Equis pint glass http://www.johnsgrocery.com/Catalog/ItemProfile.cfm?argPRODID=12987 onto the floor. I was standing in a towel, contacts not yet in, yelling at the cats because broken glass is apparently the coolest thing since catnip, when my Mom came to the rescue. She grabbed me a pair of slip-on shoes and started sweeping up the shards, which of course went EVERYWHERE. Of course I thanked her profusely, which prompted her to tell me that she didn't mind, she used to do this all the time, sometimes after doing hours of house work and making dinner for everyone, she would have to stop and clean up glass, usually right as she was about to start eating herself, which is why she never had a hot meal, because every time she wanted to eat SOMEthing would happen and she would have to take care of it because she never got any help and so this was no big deal. By this time she had unfortunately managed to sweep up most of the large pieces, so I wasn't able to slit my wrists. I had to resort to hiding in the shower instead.
I wonder if Allen will think it odd if I go to bed when I get home at six?
Friday, July 08, 2005
Not an appropriate breakfast, and now I am all sugar-buzzed. And flipping out. Why is it that when people leave you a message, they speak reaaally slooowly until they get to their phone number, and then they run it all together - or, my favorite - leave out entire numbers all together! Obviously, I am their best friend and have MEMORIZED their freaking phone number, right?
GAH. Ok. No more candy.
Over the years, I have made several misguided attempts to both understand her abhorrence and talk her out of it. I have listed several food items, trying to get her to admit that there is an exception to the rule.
"What about vanilla ice cream?" I asked, figuring that was an impossible thing to dislike.
"It's ok until it gets melty, and then I can't eat it."
She also wouldn't eat cream cheese for the longest time, which drove me CRAZY because I knew that if she simply TRIED it, she would love it, as it is the food of the Gods. Well, not really, but that's only because ambrosia was around first. If they had had a choice it would have been cream cheese. Or, at least, some kind of cheese.
But I digress! Anyway, she eventually tried and really liked strawberry cream cheese, which is not really the same thing but a step in the right direction.
I just think food phobias are really funny, I don't know why. I'm willing to try just about anything once. Well, maybe not something that is actually alive. I made steamer clams this past weekend for the 4th of July and was quite aware of the fact that they went into the pot very, very alive. But they came out dead, so that worked out ok.
Clams are not 100% quiet, that is the problem. But they were delicious.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
I can only imagine how many people will find this handy.
See, my Mom and Dad split up sometime last August, and Mom had been bopping around and staying with friends but was now out of places and wanted to come stay with us "for a while". So, the weekend after Mother's Day, in moved Mom. Ivan moved out a couple weeks ago, but we still have mom and she shows NO SIGNS of leaving. She has no job, no prospects, no skills....and basically I'm just trying to hold the old relationship together, which doesn't leave me a lot of screw around on the internet time. So, folks, things are about to get a whole lot more personal around here, as I am no obsessed with the fact that I am 28 years old and supporting my mother.
On the plus side, I haven't done any laundry in months.
I was tired.
Seriously, I had huge computer/time issues, which still aren't solved, but whatever. I will blog, blog on, blog my little heart out anyway.
Show this link to all your friends named Dave:
It will make him feel important.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Oh, yuck. So, does this mean that the guy's member was pretty thin, or that he had giant sausage fingers? Blech, either way.
Thursday, March 03, 2005
According to www.dreammoods.com, dreams about your teeth falling out can signify "anxiety about you appearance and how others perceive you", "fear of being embarrassed or making a fool of yourself in some specific situation", or even a "sense of powerlessness".
Well, I think that that makes a LOT more sense than all that Dream Diva jazz. Whereas that stuff was silly, though, this is all serious and no fun. Haha! I have hidden feelings of anxiety! Or powerlessness!
If anything, I think it's more work related than anything else. I'm always anxious to be perceived as a hard-worker who knows what she's doing, so that's probably most of it.
I guess I should go tell my boss to compliment me all the time on my fabulous work ethic so I stop worrying about my teeth. I need them to eat candy.
Of course, it could all be total horseshit, even if it sounds like it makes sense. I mean, the same website does say that "to dream of a Barbecue, refers to a minor problem that is affecting your social life". Now, it does state whether or not said barbecue is an event or a Webber grill, but I fail to see how either one could have a negative impact on one's social life. Unless you habitually screw up the potato salad. In which case you can't come to my barbecue.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Tres hilarious. Especially all the Lana Lang, Lois Lane stuff. And I thought Smallville was dramatic!
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Check out the clips. Insanely hilarious!
It was a very bizarre day. Her husband, Greg, called me and told me that they both wanted me in the labor room, they were on their way to the hospital, and they were coming to get me! (Hey, anything to get out of work!) The whole process took FOREVER, triage, getting admitted, going to the labor room, getting the epidural (urp) - except the actual birth. That took less than 20 minutes. She started feeling some pressure, the nurse asked if she wanted to push, and BOOM!
Man, that was weird. I think that's as close as I want to get to childbirth for a few more years.
Super cute kid, though - and they named her Mackenzie. If they had had a boy, they would have named it Logan, which would have been great because I could have bought him comic books.
The names people choose for their children never cease to fascinate me. In my work at the University, I hear all kinds of names - some very cool, some proof that the parents actually hoped their child got beat up daily. I found a blogger who is equally fascinated, and has a book about baby names and popularity of choice.
Check out this excerpt about Mackenzie:
Style: Androgynous, Celtic,Last Names First
Nicknames: Mac, Kenzie
Sisters: Kennedy, Riley, Reagan, Mckenna, Madison
Brothers: Logan, Brennan, Mason, Donovan, Hunter
'70s sitcom star Mackenzie Phillips was named by her rock-star dad John in honor of singer Scott McKenzie. It was an unconventional, aggressively androgynous choice at the time. But a generation later, the name is thriving in the mainstream. It's the standard-bearer for a whole crop of elaborate Celtic surnames for girls.
For some at-work-distraction, play with the name voyager - discover how un/imaginative your parents were!
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Just kidding! I don't know of any gerbils that were devoured by dogs. I do, however, know that my brother Eric's dumb ass dog ate a turtle, less than 20 minutes after the turtle had come into Eric's possession.
The point of all this? I have become baby obsessed lately. I dream about being pregnant all the time (thanks, Heidi) and now I find that I am thinking about it on a subconscious level, according to Lauren Lawrence, World-Renowned Dream Expert, that is. I have this recurring dream that my teeth are really loose and falling out. Find out what this means at www.mydreamdiva.com. Personally, I don't buy it. I think I am just worried about being toothless before I am 35, what with all the candy that's laying around the house since my brothers moved in. I watched Ivan eat a 5lbs bag of Skittles in 2 days not too long ago. Eric got his girlfriend Natalie an 11lbs chocolate bar for Valentine's Day.
Also, there have been Jolly Rancher's lollipops at the front counter here at work.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
I was trolling along on several sites and came across this description of a project called The Knitting Map by a group calling themselves half/angel (www.knitting.ie) :
"Above the earth there is a satellite which looks down at Cork and watches the movements of people and cars around the city. Down in the hub, small cameras watch the city in detail and meteorological equipment tastes the weather. Through a strange technical alchemy, this information is transformed into a knitting pattern, which constantly shifts – some hefty cabling during rush hour; quiet lulls of stocking stitch on Sunday mornings; bobbles of blackberry stitches for the un-quotidian gatherings of Cork mortals. Down in the city there is a long empty room, with a semi-circle of chairs, where dozens of people knit for a year. They work in relay, their knitting moving slowly into the space between them, the strips sewn together to form a single vast document of the city. The hue of yarn shifts with the weather and the descent of the year. There is a quiet chatter and the occasional comings and goings of people arriving and leaving their knitting stations like genteel relay runners. Before each of them, a small digital screen details the next few lines of knitting and they lean forward to advance the pattern. During the day, people arrive to view the installation. They hear low voices and the tapping of knitting needles. Before them this great knitted cartography moves steadily along the warehouse floor and begins to pile up in the half-light."
It sounds a little nuts, but I absolutely HAVE to see this. There is even a spot on the website where they tell you what the knitters are working on at this moment in time.
Currently, the weather has a "value" of 53, which is "represented by colour 134 Biscuit".
The website says that the installation should have been open in January, but it looks like things are running late. Hopefully, I will be able to take a peek if we travel next fall....
Thursday, February 10, 2005
So I send her $5, and she puts up this cute little drawing of herself buying and listening to a record. The thing is, there was a little note under the drawing that said "I hate you exchange rate". Now, for some reason, when I saw this, I decided that I must have sent American dollars to someone dealing with foreign currency - and because I am always doing two things at a time, I got her confused with another artist I like who is Canadian. So I replied, "Sorry, I forgot about the exchange rate!", thinking I had stiffed her a few cents or something. To which she replied that I shouldn't worry because she had never told me that she was using the money to buy a record from Britain, to which I replied - "Oh, I thought you meant the Canadian exchange rate!" which was probably about the same as saying, "Oh, purple monkey feet!" or something similar.
The chick lives in New York, for crying out loud. Brooklyn, even. I'm afraid to look at what her response is now. It's probably something along the lines of "Whaa---?"
This is the kind of dumbass thing that I like to do, that I think only the cast of Seinfeld could relate to - except for the not having any humorous aspects part. Crud.
Friday, February 04, 2005
If I'm not back by Monday, trusty readers, call the state troopers. Tell them I'm probably crashing around in somebody's back yard, and I didn't bring my orange vest.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
In other news, that adorable little marmot saw his shadow - 6 more weeks of winter!
Like winter has ever ended in goddamn February.
Punxsutawney Phil can screw himself.
Friday, January 21, 2005
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
Then, of course, I completely forgot about it until late afternoon. Now the pressure was really on - since I had taken so long to do it, I had to think of something good. Of course, I was still really busy, so this is what I came up with:
Greek Myths, Planetary Astronomy, Masters of SF, Movie Quotes, 80s Music, Culinary Terms, Potent Potables, Anagrams, Medieval Europe, Music From Car Commercials.
Pretty lame, I mean, at least 4 of those are real categories. I would really like to play them all, but there is no originality there.
In contrast, this is what Tori sent me:
LA Punk rock: 1982-1988
Ridiculous sexual orientation aside, Morrisey sucks because...
Guess the weight of these various amounts of high end candies, many of which are by Goelitz
Characteristics of dark-roast coffees
Fucking away an afternoon at home
Fundraising terms slightly more complicated than your layperson would know
The Sopranos seasons 1-3 and 5
Offensive euphimisms for menstruastion
Hilarious! Slightly Offensive! Totally expressive of her personality! Gah!!!
Now I feel like I should do it again! What a lame-o.
Monday, January 17, 2005
I'm bummed I didn't see this site in time to send out the Xmas or New Year's cards they feature, but I just might be in time for Valentine's Day.
Saturday, January 15, 2005
It's not good for me to get this mad before noon on a Saturday.
Please check out www.madwomanintheattic.com
A really inspiring story - though the artist, Jenny Howland, isn't sure she qualifies as sucessful enough to be inspiring. I think her books and collage work are gorgeous - I'm probably better off buying some artwork for the wall, though.
I'm pretty sure I would look at a journal that beautiful and just think - "hmm, what the hell do I have to say that is interesting enough to put in here?" And then it would sit on my shelf.
Hell, I'd like to bring them to school with me!
I'd really like to get my friend Tara one of the moldy ones, as she is the Mold Maven. She likes to collect it in coffee cups.
Friday, January 14, 2005
Thank you, Tammy, for the link.
The first time I heard it, I spazzed and almost got coffee on my keyboard.
Which is really a daily occurence so it's not that special, I guess.
Anyway, listen to the song it's funny.
It's something to do with her heart, but they don't know what.
I haven't been back to the hospital since my last visit, which was extended to say the least. Not excited about going back, but I would like to see her and make sure she's ok.
Bleh. I got no work done today.
But then the search for a menu resulted in the entire office getting together and fighting over where to go. I ended up having my boss change her salad order FOUR TIMES because we changed our minds - first it was Ronzio's, then Caserta's, then Ronzio's again, then Big Cheese. Of course, there is one person who refused to eat if we got Ronzio's, so we switched to Caserta's, but that was going to take too long, so we changed to Big Cheese, but the Caserta Lady was all bent out of shape. So we finally placed the order at 12:45, at which time I had to scramble around for change because everyone only had $20s.
It's now 1:11, and my lunch is over. It was fun. It didn't include food.
Jon and Philip from www.goats.com were almost exactly as I imagined them. We met at a cafe, so we couldn't have a beer with them, but they did show us the 750ml (pocket-sized) bottles of Jack that they had smuggled in. After all, Thursday is Pub Night, and they didn't want their livers going into shock! Jon drew a great picture of Fish (he lives in beer, don'tcha know) and Philip signed Matt's 25th Anniversery Brew mag, which was pretty great.
We also got to hang out with R. Stevens of www.dieselsweeties.com, who is a really friendly guy who is very kind to his fans. He was nice enough to personalize my Red Robot model, which I have yet to put together but I SWEAR I will do it this weekend.
I was able to chat w/Jeph Jacques of www.questionablecontent.net - I of course requested more of Mieville, Dora's cat. He said that he had only drawn Mieville about 3 times, but he has gotten a huge response.
I heart cats.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
We're going to the Haymarket Street Cafe' to meet with some of my favorite webcomic artists, John Allison of Scary Go Round, R. Stevens of Diesel Sweeties, Jon Rosenberg of Goats, and Jeff Rowland, formerly of Wigu and now of Overcompensating! Please see sidebar for appropriate links.
I'm not really sure what the hell I am going to say to these guys. I have bought some of their merch, but always as gifts, so I can't even be all "look, I spend money on your stuff! I help support your art!" It's more like "hur, I'm glad yer art is on the interweb so's it's free!"
Whatever. At least I subscribe to Diesel Sweeties. And I've bought some t-shirts.
I guess I'll just go and if it's a bust I'll have learned a valuable lesson - I am a crummy fanboy.
Please read all of their comics, even if it means you have to stop working to do it. They are actually much funnier that way.
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
Why not, you ask? Because the bride and groom-to-be argued about a DJ - he wanted one, she didn't - but what finally clinched it? Dan said that they could play "Dirty Water" by the Standells as their introduction.
They really, really love the Red Sox, you see.
The bride has also attempted to convince the groom to walk down the aisle to the dulcet strains of "Crazy Train" by the Ozzman himself, but the groom (sadly) was not convinced.
Too bad! I've never seen lasers at a wedding ceremony before.
Sunday, January 09, 2005
Those who think that they are silly books, full of dwarves and trolls and werewolves, are of course correct. However, Pratchett is also incredibly relevant and satirical - think somewhat along the lines of Carl Hiaasen. Anyone who likes to laugh should pick up a Discworld novel and start reading.
Well? Go on!
Those of you who already know about Death of Rats and Cohen the Barbarian might like to check out this site devoted to Pratchett's latest US release, Going Postal.
There is some incredibly beautiful artwork depicting familiar Discworld landmarks on these very collectible stamps. Check out Bernard and Isobel's site and buy some of their stuff!
Now I feel guilty because I didn't make my own Christmas cards or wrapping paper, and instead sent mass produced (but sincere! sincere!) holiday wishes.
Well, at least there's plenty of time to order some fabulous retro stamps in time to forget where I put them, find them, buy ink, and then not have time to use them before next year.