theeee perfume

Since everyone keeps asking...NO, I do not naturally smell like this. This is what it smells like when you crush up fairy bells, all your childhood dreams of bettering the world, and mix with Mother Nature's embryonic fluid. I only have old, very worn Swedish sleigh bells, shattered dreams, and Momma N keeps slapping my hands away when I make a move for her fluids. (Okay, eew.)(But maybe if the bells had been shattered, rather than the dreams...closer. I always get those confused.)

Un Jardin sur le Nil...is good. I'll wear it all my life. I'd bathe in it if I could - snort it, drink it, you name it. Spray it and it'll be just like I'm there with you, but invisible...so, urm, a bit more like I'm waiting in the darkness of your home, waiting to strike. Any. Minute.

NOW.

kr's take on her excellent match

K: "Ya, so he is a twin. Identical. And they used to have a hip hop band or whatever they're called...when it's hip hop."
me: "Nice."
K: "And he beat boxes."
me: "Like Run DMC, making noises with his mouth?"
K: "He says his art is [hysterical laughter][deep breath, continuing hysterical laughter] really enhanced by a mic."
A: "I love how you can't even talk about it with a straight face."
K: "He makes his living teaching physics and chemistry privately, at $100 an hour. This is actually pretty cool. And he's teaching me stuff - right now, it's about vectors. Really interesting, as you might expect."
A: "He sounds pretty great to me." She's sincere, and knowing this makes me laugh, steadily, with satisfaction.
K: "Ya, and - the best part - he hates Shakespeare. He's perfect for me!" [Laughing hard, tears in eyes, unsure of kind of tears.]
A: "But seriously, doing all that and teaching those things, that makes an interesting package."
K: "I mean, come on, of course. I'm dating this drug-abusing private physicist hip harp artist."'
[Uncontainable, delirious laughter. Imagining hip hop with harps, little ones on hips. K and I are crying, picturing this. We try explaining the mental image to A, but unsuccessfully. Like now.]
me: "Ít's like, 'Ya'll ready fo' dis? Hit it! Wheeky wheeky wee...[thrust left hip, impassioned yet tight and small plucking motions] bliiiiiinky bliiink doodiliydoo." Fairly blank stare. "No? Oh, well."
A: "So he's a hip harpist."
[K again has laughing fit, explaining the new term extra-tickled. We are all happy we are friends.]

And that's when we left to walk around and shop while drinking wine then sucking on Blow Pops. This was far more fun than is reasonable.

self-indulgent alienation, part deux

Welcome to the total douchebag conversation we were forced to endure in McCarren Park on Sunday - except this may make you laugh.

light time is the right time, for some things

Perfect sunny spring conditions = me and everyone else abdicating our Responsibility Thrones (at least at lunch) and heading outside to bask. I think the men folk need another week or so to adjust, though.

1) A crosswalk signal said stop. Fine with standing in the sun and not being splattered, I waited. Horns started honking because the person in front wasn't moving despite the greenlight. Even before the horns, that was noticeable because - hi - we'd all stopped just so he could go, and it's a major peeve of mine when people do that because as the first person in the line, you owe it to everyone behind you to pay attention and get a move on. But he finally goes. Then the guy behind him, annoyed apparently to the point of hypocrisy being a sound solution, stops TO YELL AT ME. Thanks, guy. "He sat here through half the __ light because he was too busy staring at YOU!" I learned from this that even a simple usher arm-motion can say so much and be fairly satisfying, and it was not punctuated with any special finger flourishes as D had her Zen on.
2) Sitting out with everyone else should've been nice, but then some freak business dude twice was trying to peek over my shoulder at my phone as I was messaging. DUDE. Okay, so walk over to steps and sit. Fall in love with sun. Put purse under legs and wrap straps around wrist, close eyes. Long to be on beach. Open eyes. There's significantly less open space around, which would've been okay except that when I moved my head then all the other heads looked to me and wanted to speak, and were all male. It was somewhere between feeling like birdseed in San Marco's Square (ahhh, pigeons!!!) and an awkward attempt at a 1950s "Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend" scene, except all the dancers were straight, a few overweight, and they looked like those big-ish primitive fish with pasty eyes and fat lips as they gobbled the air, trying to make words come out. I know guys! What to say? What can one say to a perfect stranger you have no excuse in the world to be bothering as she's clearly just trying to enjoy a little quiet moment to herself in the small slice of nature available? We'll just pretend that they were aware of exactly that and were trying to make me feel more at home, like I was out at the pond feeding fish or ducks or something. Aw, duck feeding. Ka-yoot-ness.

rat solution

And not a Final Solution, either, for rats are shmaht and can be kind of cute.*

Why not just train the rats to serve the food? Talk about profit margin. And who'd champion Rat Rights? Plus, they'd be cute in bitty rat gloves and fur-nets, and maintain probably about the same amount of rat hairs in our food anyway.

*In fact, a rat has hacked into D's site and is typing this.

KR's play

Cloud 9 is just an awesome play, anyway, but then you add in serious talent and boyohboy. So much is the pride in our KR. After a fabulous evening with some of our most dazzling and dear companions, we were trying to grab a cab. Given the pleasant temp, the Saturday night wait wasn't phasing us but K put her hand up and just kept it up, saying, "Something will come, eventually." We keep talking, and then this passenger says as they drive by - in full Borat voice - "Hi-a five!"

People are so lovable sometimes.

summary

I have/had so much to say, but find it all summed up in, "Haaachachacha."

Details forthcoming.

(No, they're totally not. You have to come play!)

spring?

Is that you? Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. We've just all missed you so, so much. Are you really here?

And it's going to be a beautiful weekend. The word 'beach' has been uttered. There is sun. (I've seen it and can confirm. Secondary visual verified the sighting.) I had fresh o.j. already this morning, and am going in a few for an excellent coffee and almond croissant at my Frenchy place. Now to just not die of loveliness.

little glimpses of love

There was this couple on the beach, one that normally would be dismissed as "attractive but older guy who ditched his wife and probably left his kids for 'greener pastures'" but they seemed to be having such an interactive discussion, and they'd look out on the water with the same far-away contendedness and their heads moved in a dance in every moment.

The next time I looked over at them, he was laying on his tummer, and she was up sitting on him, rubbing his back. Her face was all crinkled up, but not in annoyance; she was concertedly feeling the knots in his muscles. This level of concentration and expression of concern that he clearly couldn't possibly be aware of was so genuine and sweet, it was hard* to not go sing them a love song or a lullaby.

* - but quite feasible to refrain as while the sentiment was well-wishing, the action - nella mia voce - would be cruel and I did not want to hurt zem.

a favorite daydream catalyst

When and where would you go back to in time (say, for a week)?

'head'-line isn't the right word for this

...but I saw on AQ's link to this andra blog a headline that reads:
Advocacy Group Plans Friendlier Cavity Searches

"Hey! First round's on me!"

Imagine their meetings. First, what to advocate?

Equal rights?
Not really doing it for us.
Inequal rights?
Done to death.
Rumplestiltskin?
Hard one.
Then I know - cavity searches!
All those opposed...
[Silence]

A few weeks in:

I still think we're on the right path here, but I don't know, sometimes I feel kind of badly.
Like you're violating something?
Ya. But not in a fun way.
Ya.
Look, I'm not stopping. I don't care what you guys do.
Maybe if we just made it nicer...
[Dubious glance.] How so?
Less abrasive, classical music in the background, gentler...
I am NOT being gentler!
Okay, man, okay. Geez. How about some lube then? The rest of you - totally free to be gentler.
I guess I can lube them - after!
No, come on now, before. BEFORE. Promise us, you scamp.
Fine.
Say it.
I promise to lube them, beforehand. [Laughing fit ensues. Wiping tears from eyes, he explains.] Ohgawd, for word choice. Get it? Before hand? Oh lord. Dear, sweet Jesus milk. Oh, my stomach; it hurts. It hurts so much.

(I'd link it but the article it refers to has been removed anyway.)

ferrell child

I had to remove this posting of Will Ferrell's baby playing the part of his landlord, because it starts playing every single time the page is viewed which makes me want to slit my own throat.

blessed tax weekend

Myske, what WAS it we wanted to PhotoShop? What was that ripe fodder, I think primarily from the last bar? All that's coming to mind is talk of the new Tudor series and thinking about Henry figuratively getting fat off the flesh of his slain wives. But that's not it, as hilarious as that is. (No.)

And otherwise, here's to the best weekend I've had in ages upon ages. And sleeping only three hours Saturday night but it not even phasing me yesterday (vot?!), and having such a splendid time that even this perpetual gray raininess and taxes isn't denting the general yay-ness.

A cheers now, to tango on Thursday!

drink no

New vodka brand: No.

"What're you having there?"
"Uh, No."

"Can I have some..."
"Of my No?"

Cocktails mixed of No:
Nothing
Resolve
Standards

Also good when discussions are paired with this approach.

can't i just be a witchdoctor?

Please? I was one in my dream last night, and it was really cool - to be eloquent. I don't know that I had any obvious powers, but it felt like I knew extra stuff. And by golly, I like knowing extra stuff! I could look out from the rooftop, and 'just know' the balance of worth and potential in all the people in each gaze in whatever direction. Then it was just a matter of picking who'd actually do anything with their opportunities, once their paths were cleared a bit or issues resolved with a moment of realization. Regretfully, there's no memory of the actual details but it was pretty much pure delight to see the first bit then be struck with its solution and just think 'yes' and know it would unfold for them. It's not wrong to want to be able to do that, is it? [My non-smote, totally not cleaved-in-two existence indicates it's fine. So far.]

Plus, my hair was perpetually awesome, doing sort of interpretive renditions of my mood and thoughts. There were also jangling things, and shiny bones, pulled teeth with their elegant roots intact, and mutable tattoos. All this, without having to live in the woods with the bugs.

magic of our pearls

We did the only natural thing as JS, Emi, and I engaged in our seasonal bout of exercise (this time: pilates) and pronounced the special skills of our individual Blackberry Pearls.

JS's can perform abortions.

Then everyone stood in a triangular formation like aliens, looking back and forth at one another, smacking gum in what would be nice to imagine could be mistaken for alien-speak.

happy fertility rites day

O, Eggs! Oeufs! Uova! Eier! Eieren! Яичка! (as near as I know, phonetically: yah-eech-kah)

Ovum by any other name...are still so cool. It's Easter, it's your day. Let us rub your eggy feet, massage your nucletic temples. So while, as every day, so many eggs die, also today many eggs dye. (Preference is entirely circumstantial but it's still a dear gesture.)(Also: correctly, the eggs are dyed, and do not perform the dyeing - but I like to think of some role reversals possibly happening out there, somewhere.)

From the Eggacle:
We shall find the universe is elliptical, like you, Great Egg Spirit. Your shape is this. "Eternity is elliptical; there is no end to the holding."

Here's the Alpha. The Omegga is all you. [What just hap-pun'd? Ohgawd. It won't stop. Remember 'Leviathan' (or whatever that movie was down on a deep sea shelf...)? Like that. An invisible and diabolical soul-sucking force has taken ova...AHHH!]

And now, some dyed dead eggs from the homelands, with notes from a dear mistress of the earth:
"... my favorite were the blue & the orange. The blue was made from red cabbage, and the orange was from the skins of yellow onions. The yellow eggs were cooked in mustard and turmeric, and the pale green (they look white in the photo) were cooked in spinach. The purple eggs were simmered in 'red zinger' tea. We made the ones in the wooden bowl as hard-boiled eggs, cooking them in with the raw veggies, but the ones in the basket were an experiment... raw eggs soaked in the veggie solutions for a day or so in the refrigerator and then blown out. I did find out that duck eggs are much harder to blow out than chicken eggs..." [insert bawdy comments here]

dreamtheme conjures jackie o.

Friday night: dreamt about...my beloved-by-all old sunglasses, who only became 'former' through the twisted happenstance of extreme cold to heat and some cruel act of chance. (They met their end.) I tried to find replacements amongst their designhouse brethren, but the only that were even of interest were these










...and while the second pair is admirable, not as versatile as my lazyarse prefers. (Though, okay, they may be worth an attitude adjustment.)

Saturday night dream: am standing close to a slightly larger-than-life(-size) black/white photo of Jackie O. in peddle pushers, laying amongst books and papers, with a grand piano behind her. But then it's not a photo but movie. Then I'm there with her, and color subtlety washes into the room with us as we are laughing. The papers around us were old things we'd written, letters mostly (though mine were print outs of emails mostly, and on onion paper [favorite to type on as a child, with one of those typewriting machine things that used to exist]. We were writing letters, but then would read excerpts from our writings, old and new, to one another and comment and were having a wonderful time just feeding off each other's words, back and forth. She still sounded like herself, too, but it was Casual Jackie and a bit faster and words not bookended as much with space between one word's last letter to the next's first letter. She gave me an elastic (non-pulling) so I could pull my hair back off my face, and we talked about how much we love the boatneck line. There was a breeze from the windows but it was high enough that it never disturbed our papers, and mostly we cathappied in the sunlight, reading, and chatting, and drinking this wonderful Russian tea from the most precious yet un-emptying antique teacups.

And we were happy - quite happy.

But it was totally her love of big sunglasses, I'm sure, that called this dream into existence. The strange part actually was this AM, telling KR about the dreams, and she said, "Ohmygod. I dreamt about your sunglasses just the other night TOO."

easter bunny birthday

Arielski and I are marketing gods. GODS, I tell you.

"We have crap like Star Wars." - The Planetarium

(Happy Birthday! Don't let that fertile bunny take your thunder. The day is yours.)

come 'ere, office. roll over. gooood.

Yay! For today! (Though pre-booing Saturday's predicted 27F...sorry it won't be warm for thine visit, R.)

First, over lunch I popped into the interview with the dude who's been hounding for weeks. We sit and he launches immediately into Chinese medicine stuff, which leads to mini-Eastern discussion and he says, "I saw your resume and had to meet you. You seem as if you're a bit...esoteric." Sideglance, but smile then, "I suppose that's fair to say, yes." Then he goes into his former rockstar life but, "...I've become a musicologist, really." "Oh, fun. I took that as an elective and it was actually incredibly interesting." Dude has some of the weirdest rare music samplings...and nicely, I'm invited to hear. (Genuinely exceedingly excited.) Sure, don't vanna verk der but I love it when these strange little things happen and people of a certain ilk just seek out others, for he is one of My People. So rare are the kindred spirits, but this be one. Mark Two for such an occurrence, albeit this one is far less hot than the last. (Happy, Hoss?)

Second, I like this office. Item the First: a Creative Director turned after we were puzzling over this item and Senior Project Manager R was doing this pigpen of geometry to clarify, saying gleefully, "Thanks and go now! I release you, Geometry Gnome!" Guess what will be sticking? And he was complaining earlier that I called him simple 'pumpkin.' Oh, dally not, lest the full nicknaming be put upon thee.

Then another PM and I were IMing and since I never use my AOL one the old floating Addams Family-esque head is still on...possibly underlined by my general being...and he comes by later to present me with a Bride of Frankenstein plushdoll. Meanwhile, aforementioned SPMR brings by citrus-infused Belvedere vodkas for Sergio and I. HOW, HOW can I ever want to depart this place? Except...we know this ploy...trying to suck us in...keep us there forevski...so we lose track of days and hours and timesheets altogether.

Thank God for project tracking software! (Has our hero lost her mind? Will she ever be seen again on these sunny shores? Tune back next week...)

why males regret evolution

This is the main reason I've hesitated to get a little monkey. Gorillas probably can't pull this off (was that a bad verb choice?) but they're also a bit more dominant and we're all stocked up on Alpha Female here...which is really ample.



Still, first thanks still go to Beth for her detailed and horrific accounts when she was working at Chimp Haven.