Pink Teeth

secondary programming

2008-11-30T23:00:00.004-05:00

Do you think that animals feel the way we do when we see things like this? Like, do they see our human babies and roll their eyes from internal melting?

I'll grant you, it's not the cutest, but in a disappointing hunt for available (<- key qualifier) polar bear holiday cards, this was found here.

cheerQ

2008-10-16T21:28:00.003-04:00

You know how cheerleaders do this, "When I say X, you say Y" thing?

Why don't people actually do that, and yell with the cheerleaders - simultaneously? I promise it would in no way lessen my excitement.

sarah palin

2008-09-01T14:12:00.009-04:00

McCain's selection of Sarah Palin marks him clearly as unconcerned with our country's future.

McCain's choice of a former pageant contestant whose greatest experience is as a PTA member, denotes at best self-concerned irresponsibility. Should something happen to him, this is honestly who he thinks would be the best leader for our nation? Someone who's even more extreme than him, who disregards separation of church and state in favor of teaching Creationism in public schools, and takes a more radical stance on abortion than a conservative male Republican?

If this VP candidate sways the disgruntled Hilary voters to his ticket, then the women of this country are slumped back not just one century but two - to a time when most women in America were illiterate, lacking any analytical training. And worse, if women blindly support a candidate because of gender, they practice a shallow bigotry. Such support would mean the majority of our U.S. women have either a tragic ignorance or shameful disregard for the sacrifices of all the heroines of the past who gave over their comfort, their safety, and sometimes their lives, so that we would be free to impact our own situation, to realize our potential, to contribute as we choose.

The irony is that while Sarah Palin benefits from these sacrifices now more than most American women, she wishes to stand on the backs of our saviors to keep others down. There is no surer factor for a woman's life to be impoverished than early motherhood.

Instead of progress, Sarah Palin's position indicates women in this country are this very day considered such simpletons that we'd fall for this ploy - that we'd sooner have a moment of false pride at the expense of our daughters' futures, that we're fools enough to prop a crowned Palin up on our shoulders while she whips away our pride and possibilities.

zoo

2008-07-21T15:26:00.003-04:00

LZP and I thought it would be a good idea to go to the zoo.

That part was. Being there when other people were? [Doubtful mouth-scrunch]

Learn from our experience, that our suffering be not in vain. (Suffering in veins is unavoidable. It's called family, it's in your blood, yo.) Do not make the mistake of going to the Bronx Zoo on a Wednesday, the designated "suggested donation" day. It's great that it's there, though it seems to have little impact on education [shame in own species, engaged] - but really, just let the almost $30 entrance fee segregate as intended. IT IS WORTH IT.

We heard a woman telling her daughter, in all earnestness, that a red panda was a teddy bear. People were standing on one side (the wrong one) of open-air cages screaming, then being baffled that the animals wouldn't come near, then not notice that when people were quiet the animals would start moving closer. A boy aged about nine years pounded maniacally on the not-as-thick-as-you'd-think glass at the gorilla cage, with an adult female right next to the glass. LZP and I became progressively more liberal selecting children for deposit in the gorilla pits, lion fields, gator ponds, etc.

But there was one overheard highlight.

Adult Male to Presumably Have Fathered Boy: Do you know why flamingos are pink?
Boy Child: Because they're stupid. [statement]

we be schprechen american he'ya

2008-07-21T15:24:00.001-04:00

Hey! I took two seconds and figured out 1) the font my blog wouldn't stop defaulting all attempts at text entry to was Hindi and 2) how to fix it.

This does, however, beg the question of HOW THE F DID MY BLOG TEXT DEFAULT GET SET TO HINDI?

'Tweren't I.

ihavetotypethiswayoritturnstoarabic

2008-06-11T09:44:00.000-04:00

ewokgospel

provincial asshole-ness a modern invention, oh my!

2008-05-30T11:20:00.002-04:00

From National Geographic regarding recent Stonehenge findings:

Furthermore, fragments of the same type of Welsh stone were identified from the nearby Stonehenge Cursus—a long, cigar-shaped ditched enclosure. The Cursus had been created centuries before the stone circle was constructed.
"It's making us think that this connection with Wales might really have been quite long lasting and not just to do with Stonehenge," Parker Pearson said.

Read all the razzle dazzle here.

chin marionette

2008-05-16T13:44:00.004-04:00

This is the best idea I had all week (probably need more vitamins, true). The little be-string'd body could be dangling beneath the chin as live being sticks head out from behind backdrop and LO! the fun.

Introducing - the chinionette!

slightly asian, non-cajun rage

2008-03-21T14:29:00.005-04:00

Another valuable bit of self-knowledge was realized on the train platform this morning.

Though incessant days of (cold) high winds likely play a part to some degree, apparently a young adult girl sporting a Dorothy Hamil haircut (a la bowl) incenses me. To urges of violence. On sight. Like a junkyard dog.

The band instruments in tow by her and an obnoxious co-tow-er didn't help.

Co-: Ohmuhgawwwd! We have to get off on the other side!
me: It's okay. We're probably all getting off here.

And when the doors opened, they still flew into a panic and pushed their tourist arses through everyone else exiting, knocking throngs with gigantic encased band instruments. Hair judgment? Justified.

god-sitters

2008-03-19T16:29:00.003-04:00

Wouldn't this have been a way more interesting gig, the god-sitting, than any of the little (allegedly) mortal children we were paid meager hourly wages to keep safe?

GS: Okay, you little god, go brush your teeth.
LG: But I don't wanna go to bed!
GS: You can choose your bedtime book.
LG: But I don't need to sleep and I know all the stories. Ever. Every last one. And most aren't that good.
GS: God's teeth!
LG: Will not be brushed!

ventro-ventral with our animal friends

2008-03-19T16:22:00.007-04:00

Ventro-ventral copulation that is.

I was trying to find video of the missionary position gorillas (more endearing than missionary gorillas running us down to convert, yes). Alas, only still photo mentions have been found. The female gorilla, Leah, did what us hetero-girl-types do and went for the alpha male. Of her and her silverback, a scientist commented, "It is also interesting that this same adult female has been noted for innovative behaviours before." The innovative behavior referenced? Her 2005 testing the depths of the waters. (Just beginning or intentional humorous foreshadowing?) Oh, Leah! What would Victorian scientists have had to say of you? You are both a primate and a female, yet so clever.

Of course, Leah might've grabbed the little Victorian men's arms and torn them a new, erm, asunder. Me? Here? Ya, completely fine with that option.

But on this same animal "friendly" note, an excerpt of classic conversation from last night:

Junie: The little guy* I'm dog-sitting? I leave NPR on for him when I'm gone, which is - as you both know - most of the time.
Julia: Great, so he'll wind up writing a book. On neglect.

* I'm pretty sure she is dog-sitting a dog.

correction

2008-03-12T14:45:00.002-04:00

It's spelled Godd.

one step above a crack whore

2008-02-26T18:50:00.001-05:00

Today I had the best prescriptive experience of my LIFE.

The convo with this wondrous doc went something like this (and he wasn't being sleazy, just joking):
me: What else can you give me?
he: Let me think...
me: [probably agreed to let him think]
he: Well, let's also do [laundry list] so you have them but then if you take this antibiotic then you probably will get a yeast infection...
me: So Diflucan?
he: That'll work, yes. Wow, look - we've knocked down a whole forest for your stack of prescriptions. But remember the antibiotic classes so only Z-pack...
me: for bronchitis and nothing short of that or it's a waste! [muppet smile] Didn't you mention also the Cipro?
he: Want that? I can't actually write these two together, though, so...
me: Just leave the date blank for the Z-pack and I'll fill it in when needed.
he: Okay. But really. I can get in trouble. So...We can couple Cipro with the diet change and nasal stuff and...
me: YES.
he: If this doesn't do the trick, then we'll do a CAT Scan and...
me: If there's some procedure to make this all go away, I WANT IT. Also, Ambien?
he: I don't write those.
me: I don't abuse it. Truly. Only when really needed.
he: You know they can track these now, and I could lose my license.
me: Please?
he: Okay. But then if my wife won't come see me in prison, you have to.
me: Okay.

inter-nipple dependency

2008-02-21T14:11:00.005-05:00

Maybe it's wrong, but this query result was surprising:

Consider that 1) nipple response to stimulus is involuntary but 2) some of us have noted only one nipple reacting on occasion.

So would a stroke victim who's suffered full loss of one side of the body have a consistently unresponsive nipple, or would stimulus still arouse it - or would it respond in conjunction with the "unaffected" nipple as an involuntary neuro-response?

bountiful bootie(s)

2008-02-12T13:08:00.000-05:00

Would it not be hilarious to make little baby booties that look like WHALES?

[Stewy knee-slapping laughter]

Also, I fully intend to put a little Sulky Hat on pouty-faced baby at some point. (It doesn't have to be mine.) "See hat sit. Hat is inanimate!"

But wait, wait. These pants can go on, too.

Want your own? I found these here, while looking for baby gifts for my cousin's fetal male. These would not be appreciated there, but they are here.

They are here.

catholicism makes me feel guilty, too

2008-02-06T17:01:00.000-05:00

You know how sometimes you say something that you mean as maybe a slight, itty bitty, little dig but then it sounds WAY WORSE?

Today: Ash Wednesday (Ash Odinsdag is not going to take. It's been verified.)

And I said to my [Catholic] boyfriend, "Okay, so go to church and get your Catholic facial."

[wince]

mrs. dalloway goes to daffy's

2008-02-05T16:00:00.001-05:00

I need, in the need-zone of Want, a new dress for Valentine's Day. Fuchsia? Maybe. Something in a red/pink hue with blue undertones. Givenchy used to have a "miroir" line of cosmetics, with the lipstick packaging looking like a small (vibrating) rocket but the important thing was this one shade - #701 - that was (not arguably) the greatest lipstick shade ever used upon these lips; it was a pink that was strong but not eclipsing all else with distinct blueness that accentuated my (now some scientists claim mutated-ly blue) eyes.

Last night on my way to the Benjamin Cho show, I walked by Daffy's and, having almost ten minutes to kill while awaiting my co-attendee, ducked in. There was potential. New things were in. New designer-y things. And shoes.

SHOES - was my first word. Honest.

Today during lunch 18 dresses found worth giving a go, four of which were actually of the necessary level of formality sought. None of the four worked well enough, and I know this by way of my heart remaining un-singing in my chest. However, one among the 18 had made me suck in a deep breath upon first sight. So splendid was its detailing and so in keeping with my own aesthetic that I was mumbling to myself in a magical daze of disbelief. It was the only one, and it was in my exact size. [Mental ritualistic thanks given to pretend Ancient Egyptian shopping deities.]

Up to the register with two dresses I sprang, fairly literally, such was my high. But lo! What presented itself before me, but a glistening pair of Italian shoes with such a unique yet subtle treatment of the leather that again it seemed as if life had been overtaken by a djinni, circa 1960 sitcom, mixed with maybe a Lichtenstein-cum-Target ad.

A razzle
and
a dazzle,
sirrah.

Then, when it seemed nothing could possibly improve, on display at the very front was The Dress.

"O! That dress. Do you know if there are more?"
[Miss Squinty Squinterthon gazes afar.] "I think there's two more, there, in that grouping."
"Then I may not be quite ready but will be back soon!" which loosely indicates, 'So don't go wandering off after I just had to stand here staring around, waiting, for a good five minutes while this fashion buyer lady kept exclaiming over and trying to finger my goods, and I'm not sure she was going to stop with stuff not physically on my person.'

Make haste!

[Beat.]

Haste was made but it became apparent the display dress was the only one of that making there.
Miss SS changed into Miss Furrah Furrowbrowton and asked, "Oh no, there really aren't any more?" Was she disappointed in the luck or in her inaccuracy? We'll never know!

Still, I answered at the time, "There really aren't. Is it possible, if that's the right size, to take it down?" She smiled heroically and began with painstaking attention to examine its display trappings, pulling away obstacles, and finding the tag while the lady in front of me stays by just to wait and settle the suspense that understandably would've haunted her throughout the day, if not the fashion season and shares, "It looks small. You're small. Bet it's fine."

"If it's a zero, though, I'm screwed."

"It's a 2."

Glorious day!

"Okay, before getting it off there, can we see how much it is, because that matters...no matter how much I wish it didn't." Throughout my life, I have had this 'ability' to see nothing of any interest and when I see something I DO like then it's 99% of the time the most expensive thing in the store. But, while this was pushing it a bit, it was The Perfect Dress - nearly the 701 shade, in a matte silk, and somewhere between a 1950s party and a tropical gypsy dress. Yes. That good. That made for me.

So it was taken down, and you'd really think at this point the matter was settled, but Fate had smiled on me enough (says Fate) for today. As Miss Heroic Smile was unzipping the back, closely fingering the components, coaxing lovingly if a bit devilishly, Miss FF returned and furrowedly pronounced, "There is a hole, here, by the zipper. If I pull," scientifically calculating, "then it will worsen and tear the fabric this way." Yes, she had determined the exact path of damage. She was glorious.

"Well, if there's a hole, I guess I don't want it, anyway - break my heart though it does."
"I know," sympathetic look lasting just long enough to convey sincerity before becoming uncomfortable, "I know."

And so the dress hunt will continue, but this day will go down as a great one in D's Shopping History. [Mentally chiseling shopping glyphs into metaphysical tomb wall located far off from civilization, painting it, and leaving during the night to minimize observer interest and preserve the record for the ages.]

impossible to pick best part

2008-02-05T15:52:00.000-05:00

In one of the greater convolutions of information passing that I've been involved, allow me to share (AP sent me this, from Dlisted, quoting Daily Candy) -

From Dlisted.com:

Daily Candy today sent out the funniest e-mail on ass bleach today. Ass bleach is always funny. This cream is from South Beach Skin Solutions and it's lightening gel for "sensitive areas." The sensitive area they are talking about is definitely your asshole, because I doubt you want to bleach your vag lips or peen head. Maybe you do? I don't know what you all are into these days.

One of the testimonials on the site is from Tran, "I bought the lighten gel and applied it on my underarm a week ago. Now I am happy to see that it really works and the skin on my underarm started to get whiter." Good try Tran! If your armpit is in your asshole, you really should seek medical attention.

Daily Candy wrote: "Van Morrison wrote the song "Brown Eyed Girl" as an endearing ode to a former love. And while some will always argue that brown eyes are classic, others are looking for a change. It has come to our attention that it is no longer acceptable for your bunghole to be, well, brown. (Yeah, we said bunghole.) And South Beach Skin Solutions has developed a lightening gel that is safe for that sensitive area (no, we have not tried it). The natural product claims to give your poopshooter "a fresher, more youthful look" by making it blend in with your natural skin tone. (Seriously?) Here's how it works: The gentle formula first exfoliates then naturally depigments and whitens the backdoor by reducing the activity of tyrosinase (an enzyme responsible for darkening) in the skin. They claim you'll see results in just a few weeks, or else you get your money back."

That e-mail really sounds like it came from my last date. Sorry folks, but my girl will remain brown-eyed. Actually, she has a little pink eye. Oh forget it! You don't need to know me...LIKE THAT.

{fini}

My mind is spinning. O! - had this writing only been seen by my fifteen-year old self...actually, considering that I thought whisperings of "pearls" (the kind people lube) were creations of my guy friends to try to sicken me, my head might've exploded from this tidbit/tuddbutt.

Still, it's leading to questions of greater meaning, like:

Are we to infer that darkness of Hole denotes aging?

Will people start getting bunglifts?

fried green what, fatty pancakes

2008-02-05T11:51:00.000-05:00

I don't like looking at fat any more than Mississippi law-makers (nay, I reckon less), and have even picked off every little bit of it from my food for my entire life, but did you see this about a law proposed in MS trying to ban restaurants from serving obese people?

I immediately thought of one of my comedy writer friends (AP!) doing a truly hilarious piece based upon it.

MS-ians say with pridefully billowed chests, "Don't tell me who I can serve. We've come a long way. I decide who I discriminate against."

Law-makers explain, "We've just been without discrimination for so painfully long now, and if we can't do it by race or gender, at least we can all get behind hating fat people."

special city

2008-02-01T11:50:00.000-05:00

Suckopolis

couture spring accessory inspireds

2008-02-01T11:39:00.000-05:00

1. bright, light lilac tights
2. gradient blue tights
3. natural pearl armband
4. more armbands
5. a simple Victorian-esque push-forward hat
6. lace in hair
7. extreme gloves and "sleeves"
8. b/w patterned platforms

...so far.

italia

2008-01-25T10:46:00.000-05:00

You were wondering why Italy is the birthplace of opera and is known for being, shall we say, dramatic?

goodie pink - the modern puritan creation

2008-01-23T20:06:00.000-05:00

Goodie Pink. Yes.

Introducing, the nipple scarf.

special edition for javier, c. 1999

2008-01-23T19:59:00.000-05:00

In the inescapable boredom of the Underwest, it was not unusual for college friends and I to spend a little more time than one can be proud about attempting to antagonize one another. Case in point:

THE TWELVE STEPS OF Catholics Anonymous (CA)

Step 1. We admitted we were powerless over Catholicism - that our lives had become un-enjoyable.
Step 2: We came to believe that a Power more reasonable than the Holy Catholic Church could restore us to sanity.
Step 3: We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of anyone but our priests, as we neither understand them, nor they us.
Step 4: We made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
Step 5: We admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being that our inventories were on a short list as we have few internalized morals.
Step 6: We were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character, but decided being empty inside was too scary. Instead, we asked God to clarify contemporary definitions of sin.
Step 7: We humbly asked Him to remove these shortcomings, and replace them with more logical and fascinating ones.
Step 8: We made a list of all the persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all, even women and homosexuals.
Step 9: We made direct amends to such people wherever possible, even in public, except when to do so would injure them or others, carefully avoiding our former behaviors based on the notion that injuries brought by amends should always be indirect so no blame may be laid.
Step 10: We continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it, and did not flog ourselves (even mentally) or seek absolution.
Step 11: We sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understand him, praying only for knowledge of his will and the power to carry that out.
Step 12: Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to others, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

"The only requirement for membership in CA is the desire to stop being Catholic."

way ahead of pirate curve, c.1999

2008-01-23T19:56:00.000-05:00

Below is the Pirate Checklist. Check all those that apply:

I find myself trying to make others walk planks.
Raping and pillaging sounds ho-hum to me.
‘Argh’ finds its way into my vocabulary on a daily basis.
I do not have friends, but hardies and maties.
All I value is buried.
‘Bootie’ has multiple meanings for me, all of which are pleasing.
All of my maps have at least one large, hand-drawn X on them.
I keep dying my chin blue in hopes of it appearing as such a hued beard.
Peg-legs and patched eyes are aesthetically appealing, even if the two combined on one individual seem like overkill.
My best friend is a foul-mouthed parrot.
When I look at clouds, I often see skulls, treasure chests, and the Queen’s Navy.
I’ve fantasized about slicing that braggart in Old Bartelby’s Pub.
I’m actually responsible for Queequeg’s tattoos.
Men who don’t have both ears pierced I know to be both poor seamen and faint of heart.
The people I care most about I caution to, “Be sure to have plenty o’ lime, or yew’ll be gettin’ the scurvy.”
My Freudian slips usually involve large metal hooks, flesh, and gold.
People who don’t make lewd jokes about shivering ‘timbers’ are no friends o’ moin.
Land pisses me off.

leaving L.A. trip for Grandma Josie's funeral: found file

2008-01-23T19:44:00.000-05:00

And here's what was apparently going through my mind as I sat dumbstruck at the first grandmother death:

The strangest thing about looking in the mirror isn’t frequently being disgruntled by our appearance, or that we may on occasion even find ourselves quite – almost unbelievably – beautiful.

Instead, the strange thing is looking at the face, the head with its bigness, seeing we are not children or featureless expressions of our true inner-selves, but contained. And, in fact, these containers can seem to bare no earthly semblance whatsoever to the _____ we carry. Not a one of them. Even looking down at my own body, it is not uncommon for me to be still amazed I have breasts, muscles, and this adult body – completely simply by way of having been born, and continuing.

summer rain '06: found file

2008-01-23T19:41:00.000-05:00

As I'm transferring a bit around here for my smashing new laptop, whose name remains tbd, this was found:

I feel absolutely today like I should be at sea, head wrapped in seal skin, staring out over a grayness so vast it’s difficult to see where sea and sky separate and the whole of the world seems in danger of evaporation. I should be out, solo, on a Viking ship, red sails full in the wind – one haunted with the floating smirks of those who delivered the first or the best hugs, curses, lullabies, tricks. Waves would slap the sides of the ship and we’d sit listening, content yet wondering, eager for the end of time - eager to see all that will be before the sun runs out.

getting brained

2008-01-17T15:31:00.000-05:00

Why?

Why couldn't they have had these when I was a kid?

feelings - the real

2008-01-16T16:13:00.000-05:00

Two new emotionally tailored terms have been developed today in exchanges with dear Arielski:

Underwest - n. American region commonly referred to as The Midwest, but better conveying personal sentiments. Ex: I am flying back to the Underwest for sheer love of Mother. (Germ-Anglish - Untervest.)
Budslothers - n. largest population of Americans, drinkers of Budweiser, better conveying personal sentiments; non-appreciators of any poetry aside from that of Maya Angelou, de-valuers of history; people comfortable with any of Bush's policies, ever, yet likely still more intelligent than Bush yet known to Bushites as, "[his] awesome, totally expendable population." (See also: military state, Ancient Rome, Third Reich.)

-ump Day

2008-01-16T11:56:00.000-05:00

That's a capital hyphen.

Our coat closet has B.O. - or, more likely, someone who's placed a coat inside does. I went to grab my cellphone from my coat pocket, and it was so rank in there I may have swooned. If I didn't, then the fumes altered my brain chemistry enough that I distinctly thought I experienced a swoon.

I daren't attempt a rescue. Does anyone know the rate of stench dissipation in a closed space? (It's not air-tight. There's a good inch at the bottom of the door, and likely a 1/4" at the top, with periodic airings via door openings.) Should I just skip lunch?

But hey, I also found my favorite unrecognized female historical figure of the week. Ya, she's Mary Anning. She dealt in dinosaurs. There be love.

There also be terror in the horrible aesthetic sense of almost every other website 'dedicated' to her. (Note: tributes are more effective, people, when they aren't visually repugnant in their pastel-ity. Jesus, did someone blow up Barbie?)(OK, that would be awesome. If you did, then here's some Wiggle Room [trial version].)

atypical morning

2008-01-16T11:11:00.000-05:00

After waking from a dream where my mother turns out to have decided not to tell me that I had a baby when I was three years old, the morning didn't seem off to a particularly stellar start.

But then I got a seat on the subway. That's right - on the L, in the morning rush. I know! (Granted, this was after two people pushing me out of the way to get on the first train, which never has happened, despite the fact that I'd been there longer, having just missed the previous train. Where is your Commuter Etiquette, W'burgers? Where is your shame?) But the seat. Yes.

Getting off the train, there was an unusually high number of cops supervising the platform. I looked at the one by the nearest stairs, doing a quick body language check to see if I should perhaps consider another path, and got a bit more reassurance than expected or necessary.

Cop: An angel walks before me.
Me: Dude. [Begins skirting a bit in approach to stairs.]
Cop: You look like, "They know not what they do."
Me: You've got me there. [And we have stairs.]

I'm assuming the fact that I was bundled nella mode 'Inuit' left only my face as a definable shape, and that most of that bundling was eggshell/feathery white, had more to do with this impression of said officer's. Wings? Halo? Under my Northface, and I do mean my North Face.

Then crossing the street, an old man was almost pacing me despite pulling a massive wheeled suitcase. The peripheral eyeball noticed he had, however, gotten stuck on the curb. The deeply (self-)ingrained from childhood "Help those who are weaker" kicked in, so I halted and turned. Eye contact - point blank. Up came his suitcase, but he was so pleased to see someone had been willing to help him, that I was showered with praise. I walked off translating all this into a whelming sentiment of, "Being not a complete asshole made his day. That's nice."

And then I came into work.

fortunate influx of friendness

2008-01-11T12:13:00.000-05:00

However many times it happens, I remain un-condition-able when it comes to leaving behind doggie bags. In light of this self knowledge, when JB handed me his manuscript the other night at dinner, I said, "Please, REMIND ME, like make sure, that I take this when we leave."

"Just put it in your bag."
"It won't fit."
"Put it on top."
"It won't matter. Trust me." But I put it on top, with him saying he'd remind me.

[Fast-forward two hours.]
I sit straight up on the couch as a few of us are sitting around talking. Heads turn, startled.

"The manuscript."
"No. You couldn't have. It was right on top. You had it in your hand."
"But had to put it down to get my coat on and button it!"
"Maybe you left it at the dry cleaners?"
"No. I don't remember carrying it at all. Dear god."

I call the restaurant. A guy with a thick French accent answers, so that narrows it down to every guy who works there. My forced-calm and guilt-laden voice begins, "Hi. This is D. We were in there just a bit ago..."

"I remember you."
"...and I left a manuscript on the table."
"Yes, it is [audible effort to make 'h' sound] 'Heroes.'"
"Yes! Can someone pick it up tomorrow?"
"Yes, sweetheart, it is okay..." [continuing French scheduling details]

KR offered to, and did in fact, pick it up.

That was yesterday.

This morning, I was nearly into work and realized I'd forgotten my cell phone. There are only a few things I fear ever leaving behind .

Worst Possible Thing to Leave Behind: a baby, particularly on a car roof (I've done it with [virgin] drinks - so leaving a virgin human is at least a possibility).

Leaving behind my cellphone is not far behind, in terms of freak-out factor.

An email was sent out. KR responded, and - bless her - brought Pearl to me.

All is well, and I am thankful for so much and many.

:)

have some scents, over there, little further please

2008-01-09T15:25:00.000-05:00

This morning as I was getting off the train, this woman starts flapping her arms and complaining loudly, "Damn. Somebody got on some of that Stink Perfume!"

I like to imagine this as the new Britney Spears scent, in a shiny, pink bottle with glitter.

(I know it's not necessary, but...)

wording con-choice

2008-01-03T16:44:00.000-05:00

Oh.

Yes.

I was just documenting something at work and wrote, "...will not be allowed via the client's back-end."

...as in back-end development, which doesn't really sound much better, dooo eet?

serious advertising fun

2008-01-03T15:58:00.000-05:00

Yes, I work in a field of high turnover and higher inter-agency incest - advertising.

With this in mind, I have just proposed (in my office) the creation of a sort of fantasy football league of our past employees.

It's called "adding value." Yep, that's what I've just done.

verbilination

2008-01-03T15:43:00.000-05:00

Or verbalienation.

Anywho, I'm entertaining myself with two of my favorite sites - this one which is the bastard child of a site of godlike importance.

hangover edge or lack thereof

2008-01-03T15:16:00.001-05:00

Four of us brunched together, three were hungover. One of us hoped to amuse the group. (Don't you love how the past tense of 'to hope' intrinsically implies failure?)

item #1:
JS mentioned her parents are having issues at their home with wolves. MG exclaimed her parents are now, too, because while wolves had been hunted in France they had simply gone to Italy but have returned - making these sound like vacationing wolves. So, here's my comment (of which I am obviously still proud) that fell nearly flat to my dearly hungovers gathered together.
"Yes, the wolves came back to France and were all like, 'Ciaooooooooooooowww.'"
[ba da bing!]

item #2:
We were discussing this year's theme for our home's third annual Most Depressing Day of the Year Party.
me: Should we dress only as our favorite people who also committed suicide, or include people we're most happy committed suicide?
[Blank stares. AP pokes her grits.]
nearly unintelligible voice of friend: What do you mean? Like what?
me: Like I love Virginia Woolf and will ever be sad she is gone, but am glad Hitler killed himself.
JS: You could combine them.
[Silence, during which certainly almost no consideration was given to the notion.]
me: Ya, put rocks in my pockets, wear an ugly little mustache and walk around with 'A Reich of One's Own.' [Happy Fragle muppet face!][Return of blank stares.]

And that's why we shouldn't drink.

But we're totally having our party. And drinking. Probably a lot.

But I'm also probably still working my joke into the invites. (Hold your applause.)

what honestly crossed my mind last weekend

2007-12-18T10:00:00.000-05:00

While I don't know the rationale of the claim that 70% of an average person's body heat is lost via the noggin, if we go with that then it's safe to assume some of us with what some may deem a disproportionately large head lose more heat at this area of the body.

Self-question:
If I just super-bundle my head and neck, do I even really need to wear a winter coat? I mean, within reason, could it be?

Self-answer:
No. And with these crummy, weak, scarred lungs of mine the theory mustn't come close to being tested.

[Scene: Brady Bunch opening screen with the nine squares. In place of Mr. Brady - my brain. In place of Alice, my lungs, right there in the middle waving and smiling, messing everything up. My Brain is not Mr. Brady, however, and first growls then roars and throws itself lobe-long at Lungs. Lungs stare into the gaping maw between Brain's hemispheres and shrieks. Brain finds those little black lines dividing them to be more an issue than one might expect, gathers self together, determined to maintain its dignity.]

cha-i-rity

2007-12-17T15:53:00.000-05:00

I was telling Polsky how LZP is currently dating the worst-named-to-date-LZP person imaginable. The formula for this, you ask? Ah, it is quite simple:
sibling's first name = date's first name
+
date's last name rhymes with female subject's first name

She cannot take his last name, and he cannot take hers because then he'd...have her brother's name.

Also, he has a beard, but has been alerted that its removal is vital.

To this Polsky shared that her visiting friend from L.A. showed up last week with a two-foot long beard.
[her face: shameful admittal/visual lust of reaction.
my face: disgust.
her face: acknowledgment of shared mental anguish]
His excuse is that it's for charity.

But can there be, even in the further reaches of the intellectual universe that is L.A., a charity for people to donate to those with less fortunate chins?

eyrror

2007-12-17T15:31:00.001-05:00

That is when my eye makes an error, and is not the retarded cousin of the donkey in Winnie the Pooh. (There's still no excuse for naming him Pooh, though. Regardless of slangination, 'pooh' sounds icky.)

Anypooh, I was poking about in the blogger utility navigations and thought it somehow read 'Dashbort' where Dashboard appears. Dashbort could only be a hurried abortion. That is not what I was looking for.

And probably is not the sort to have, especially in place of looking at your blog(s). "Darnit. I meant to create a new post...Rather impressive functionality, howevah."

a date with breastiny

2007-12-14T09:57:00.000-05:00

My f'ing gawd - they're even bigger today.

How do people stand this?

hermones

2007-12-13T16:43:00.000-05:00

My boobs hurt.

They won't stop.

I do not feel like my boyfriend's friend who declared last weekend at dinner that his four-year old son is his nemesis, mostly because I do not feel my breasts are bound to grow into better versions of myself.

Hello, old friends, rooted mightily to my rib-region. I miss what we used to have - the quiet walks in the park, bounding painlessly down steps, snuggling up on a cold night just keeping each other warm. Remember? I don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with. Let's just do what feels good, and comes naturally, to both of us.

Reduce yourselves! Stand down! It can be like it used to be for us.

It can.

some say award-worthy, some say lawsuit

2007-11-08T18:21:00.000-05:00

This is the dumbest, most clearly male-invented shoe in the Western world.
I'm sure it is tempting on a daily basis to point out to people what a simple little bunch of sheep we most often, despite our supposed desire for 'individuality,' are. But, Marc Jacobs, must you push it quite so far?

another fantastical power shot to hizzel

2007-10-03T14:45:00.000-04:00

If voodoo could work, wouldn't we use it for pleasure at least as much as pain?

Safe sex and masturbation could go to new levels.

pre-speak

2007-08-30T18:13:00.001-04:00

Last night, I used the phrase "mice hex" in conversation. A moment later it hit me what that sounded like.

nothing needs be said

2007-08-30T11:37:00.001-04:00

miss south

2007-08-29T15:16:00.000-04:00

She wowed them in South Carolina, mastering advanced classes like:
Religion
Highlighting (markers)
Highlighting (hair)
Prepositional Magic
Creative Cartography

And inspired a nation.

Osama us bin making better uses of our time than others.

sweet, nourishing michael ian black

2007-08-29T11:45:00.000-04:00

(Foreword: I am still mourning the loss of the Stella Show, and eager to once more relive the magic that was the Migrant Worker episode.)

We were so close last night, Michael Ian, though I have created situations that visually made you appear closer. But that was long ago. We needn't dwell.

Your head? So big! It's really so, so big. [Sigh.]

And LZP will likely continue to attempt brainwashing me into believing you did look right at me when waving goodbye at your Exeunt Stage Right. So I will continue telling her your eyes said, "Sure, my son is a disappointment - but I want to have my less disappointing child with you."

Our baby? Not as good as the pending Darlana (coming: next future!), but still a better knock-knock joke writer.

genius beggar

2007-08-28T14:40:00.001-04:00

This is one way to get people to give you clothing.

sure-fire ways into wikipedia

2007-08-28T12:13:00.000-04:00

1) the spaghetti dance
2) invention of "koi dressage" - which will most importantly consist of the fish head sticking out from the water, and carrying out the blowing of a kiss with fantastical coordination of a fin and fish lips. This can be performed singly or in battle formation.

i'm sorry. my id seems to be on your ego.

2007-08-23T18:05:00.001-04:00

It wasn't me. Sometimes the id just has these more muscled-imp moments.

[Trapped listening to a conversation so tedious it was painful to drudge up memories of its competitors...]
dude: "You look like you're thinking about something."
me: "I do that." (Congratulate self for not blurting out cheap and obvious, 'Unfamiliar expression for you, isn't it?')
dude: "So, what're you thinking about?"
id: That question requires punishment for multiple reasons.
me: "I was debating internally if the mere challenge of determining anything equal in sheer dullness to this entire interaction was, beautifully, actually making it intriguing. Or not."
dude: "I don't get it."

See. So I don't even have to feel badly.

Because that was straight, cold-ass bitch.

the photos, they speaksies

2007-08-21T17:13:00.000-04:00

Just living a full life, along with all y'all.

dear future dependents

2007-08-21T12:48:00.000-04:00

I just wanted to let my potential eventual berbies know that at one time their mother had to handle such serious issues as this, from my co-worker:

Hi Everyone,

If you have my voice changing megaphone please return it to me…no questions asked. The future of this company depends upon it.

Best,

Keith

So, berbies, I guess you should totally expect me to be able to handle all else quite adeptly.

self-filter: off

2007-08-17T14:58:00.000-04:00

Danger.

Danger will rogers you blind.

So as I was texting and waiting to cross the street last evening, I apparently had offended Mr. Thuglife Extraordinaire by standing precisely where he had hoped to walk into. Peripherally (avec mon giant peepers), I could see him standing directly in front of me, hoping to intimidate me into getting out of his precious way. Jarred unexpectedly from my engrossing text response, some Internal Dialogue slipped out.

"Oo, I'm so impressed with your little display of aggression." GLARE.

Grit teeth.

Okay, that's probably more than just the filter being off, but whatevs. Sometimes a person responds on an animal, instinctual level to an implied threat. Sometimes a person snarls. It's to be expected.

when least expected

2007-08-17T12:00:00.000-04:00

So I'd been wanting to see Emi's commercial, to the extent that I'd even taking to watching t.v., but given that we don't have cable* and all of four channels, I'd fairly given up.

Then, the other night, I was actually eating something at home - making an actual dinner, in my own kitchen [gasp!] - and I heard, "Hey." Emi?

I turned just in time to see her on the tube, as in television, not the 'Mind the gap' variety. But we're still fairly fascinated that one little word was so distinctly identifiable.

*(because we "don't exist" according to the cable/internet company, and because when they realized we DO exist, they used this opportunity to fail repeatedly and suck up hours of my life and cell minutes, only to decide we - in fact - do not exist.)

finally - a thought i'm ashamed to have had

2007-08-16T15:34:00.000-04:00

So in reading this article (alerted in AQ's blog), when I read this part:

Iraq accounted for the overwhelming number — with 27 of the suicides coming from that conflict and three from Afghanistan. Also, there were 948 attempted suicides, officials said, adding that they didn't have a comparison for previous years.

And thought, 'It's a wonder we aren't being decimated. These guys aren't even good at killing themselves.' Then, 'WOW, am I an aaa-haaaa-ass-HOLE.'

Not proud. But, what is the descriptor for this feeling?

poor choice in pre-proposition conversation

2007-08-16T14:28:00.000-04:00

"c"/o a male cultural anthropologist

A: ...That's why men can't help how they are, not that they can't exercise self-discipline.

me: There's that.

A: It's just that by nature we, as males, are driven to spread our seed - to propagate the species - so must have many mates. Women, on the other hand, are after finding the strongest hunter/provider to reproduce with who then will also be able to protect her and their young.

me: Except, of course, that that's faulty logic because under that supposition each woman should also be looking for multiple mates so she could essentially develop a team of protectors. In theory, the female could also require all her mates to protect all her offspring equally well, using the safety of each male's offspring as leverage against the male, should he fail or attempt to decline.

A: That's an interesting point. [He looks away, moving his nearest shoulder away a good inch.]

me: Maybe that's just me.

A: Can I get you another drink?

me: [It won't help.]

celtic grotesque, almost

2007-08-14T17:24:00.000-04:00

Baby, it's like...I can't tell where I end and you begin, or where I end, except that it really, well, it kind of hurts.

SOMEday...

2007-08-09T14:10:00.000-04:00

I must have a brilliant baby. (Yuka, you still have dibs on any and all retarded berbies issued forth from this womb. Fret not.)

I needs me a smart 'un for to teach it to say things like this:

Scene 1, Ex-act 0:
A three-year old is learning to play catch. The adult is throwing balls gently, lobbing them with a soft arch. The toddler misses as the audience looks on, but then...

Toddler: Hey! I caught something! And this time it's not viral!

bacon strips displace brain in heat wave

2007-08-07T14:28:00.000-04:00

1) The thought I'm most excited about for the entirety of the day is: Victorian squid wallpaper. (It's important to note that the squid be in an elaborately flourishing Victorian style, and not the remains or photos of squid from the Victorian Era. Thank you.)

2) My Creative Team and I are pretty sure that while dogs dream in b/w, and we dream in high-resolution CMY color, Paris Hilton's dreams occur not in b/w but the monochromatic hue of pink, and all actors within are drunken chihuahuas.

goodie sara brown

2007-07-30T15:08:00.000-04:00

The Puritans' search engine of choice:

Goodle

myspace, it's like you really 'get' me

2007-07-26T18:30:00.000-04:00

Why that IS how I'm feeling! Mood-less and then some!

You amaze me, even if outwardly that is not apparent.

But you know this.

You always know how to cut to the quick, scamp that you are.

Now wipe that smile off your face and sit here stoically with me, for hours - effortlessly, and emphatically expressionless.

"thriller" ending takes on newly dubious element

2007-07-20T13:41:00.000-04:00

This is the world in which we live, but putting this in a time capsule would likely not convey to the only partially-informed future generations its full awesomeness.

fo' pope shizzle

2007-07-14T10:46:00.000-04:00

This guy? Hilarious.

As is this photo. I swear this is how it appeared on msn.com, so any Fun With PhotoShopping was not my doing. There's something distinctly Blazing Saddles about this, though.

Wait. Is Mel Brooks the pope? (Can we just switch him in? It'll be so much better.)

The best part is that it's true that there's only one true church - it being the world. There's also only one god, because it doesn't matter what you call it. By definition, if there IS only one, everyone is praying to The Same.

The superAwesome part is the demonstration of what piddliness is at the heart of institutionalized (and I do mean that) religion.

flight + rap + acoustic guitar

2007-07-09T15:30:00.000-04:00

Something we can get behind, if only because getting in front would require a lot of looking over our shoulders.

friday in july

2007-07-06T15:16:00.000-04:00

Polsky has moved - partially against her will - to the Upper West Side.

Marie is still in France.

Still.

KR is being Ophelia off in the mountains of Colorado.

But at least we have talk of an Office Falcon, octopus-squid lovin' (a more romantic thought than mere evolution), astronauts needing some sugar, and this:

post-Sweden: some rarely blogged sincerity

2007-06-30T08:09:00.000-04:00

Sweden appealed to all the quiet peace in me. Granted, 'the public' may not be aware but this part is just as strong as any other inside, and provides at least as much happiness as Entertainer D. So many things reminded me of my dear little Gramma Hilma, especially people's twinkles. And there's water and things to explore everywhere; better yet, much of the exploration is near or via water. We found shire-likes, moss everywhere, and a kind of tree we're calling a willow birch (note: and watch out, willow birches, because you are ear-marked as my ideal tree to give birth against, Viking style...though I don't think anyone thinks I'm serious, give me half a chance to slip off and do it old school, and I'm out). Even the rocks are smooth and rounded in their craggliness, kind of like giant old people faces peeking out of the ground to go snuggle into while they tell you how there's really nothing to ever worry about, it'll all be okay.

So for ten days I lived with music being made around me one way or another, light in the sky that moved from a gray petulant enough to make pink sexy to a golden layer gently laying over the horizon in hours typically black, and a fairly perpetual reassurance from the water, though I don't know what it'd say..."I'm right here, you will not dehydrate, and if need be, just jump in me. I'll take you...away." Maybe not. But it's soothing anyway, feeling it close by. And until you've been dancing with the swirling fallen leaves (not that I have since I was little either), don't knock my dippy love of this stuff. M'kay?

Walking in the woods drummed out my favorite little verse from when I was 15, by Lord Byron (slightly edited):

"There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
Rapture on the lonely shore,
Society, where none intrudes;
By the deep Sea, and Music in its roar,
I love not man the less, but Nature more.

(That's where I tend to stop, but it continues, so in the interest of moderate accuracy...)

From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal."

But what's to conceal? Strip down, man! (Because you're not fooling anyone. We've been totally onto you for some time now.)

It was extra perfect also that on our accidentally-themed day of death, following the Bronze Age Burial and visiting general graves and one specifically, as we walked through mist along the road to a rune stone, the little flowers Gramma would eat with us on walks sprouted up in our path. So we nibbled on a few of them, realized we couldn't make out the characters on the stone, and rather than think it was one of the duller inscriptions, J made up something dazzlingly gory. This, all, I loved.

For these reasons and more, it was not easy to leave. (Although I'm fairly sure my feelings would be different were it winter.)

mine are a proud and notably large-headed people

2007-06-16T08:56:00.000-04:00

Yesterday before lunch I was so tired I was shaking a little, but per usual, some of us in our office feel the summer must be enjoyed. In a sort of beached whale version of a flash, I motioned for a Nap in The Park. Yay! Nap! Sleepy time!

We kerthunked ourselves down in the grass. As exhaustion had turtled my judgement, I'd overlooked that I was there with MB which = we will be perpetually talking. I think he'd just finished telling me the title of my autobiography should be Terrifying and Kind of Attractive: the DM story. Better would be if HE writes these stories, as his perspective on The Terror would be entertaining, at least in a sadistic sense. But I digress...

MB'd said earlier how he likes bald babies, and thinks they should stay that way much longer - like until they're eight at least. The catalyst of this thought train was this wobbly baby, a little over a year old. It's head was bald, and impressively sized. Later, MB starts talking in this high-pitched friendly voice. What!? Friendly? So I look up and over. The target was spotted, and it had its mother along.

MB: "Hey there. Come say hi?"
Giant-headed Baby: [Tip of tongue protrudes; stares blankly.] (This kid has a great future as a poker player.)
MB: "Although I can understand, Mom's pretty good too, probably."
GhB: [Lets go of mother's knees and reaches out, trying to take a step towards us but is being foiled again by that clever grass stuff; resumes wobbling, worriedly reaches for mother's knees.*]
GhB's MOTHER: "You look more like her parents than I do."
my ovum: Reinforce the walls! We will not be overtaken! Go not lightly into that dark night!
MB: "Ya, especially this one. [Gestures at me. Then whispers over at me,...] 'I mean, look at the size of that head.'"
GhB's Mother: "Are you Swedish?"
me: "Why, yes I am."
GhB's Mothers: "Her father is Swedish. His head is huge, too. He looks like you. [Pause.] I'm Portuguese."
me: "Ooo, what a cool mix."
MB: "That is awesome that your people are renowned for huge heads."
me: "Ya. And some other stuff." [Norseman death squint.]

*We should make knee puppets for moms to wear. Sure, it sounds cray-cray but studies will back me up. As will lonely knees.

powerful deli man

2007-06-07T09:40:00.000-04:00

We were on our way to see Paprika and I went into some deli to get a juice (V8, long may it live). The guy behind the counter says, "You are a princess, the most beautiful princess."

"Thanks."

"No, no, miss. You really are. You ARE a very, very beautiful princess."

Apparently he has that kind of authority. So, hey, yay for me. I didn't have to buy it or marry for it. I am titled. Va-voom. My principality probably includes the Angelika Theater, and expands to I know not where. Next week I'll go back for a root beer and find out.

vague insult of chickens

2007-06-07T09:26:00.000-04:00

We're ordering breakfast. My bud wanted eggs. I offered him mine, like my ovum.

S: "Do you think you could make an omelet with them?"
me: "I hope so. If chickens can..."
S: "I wonder. But I think I'm going to puke."

compliment?

2007-05-31T10:13:00.000-04:00

I never know quite how to take this one:

"You look so amazing ON FILM."

week's highlights

2007-05-11T09:20:00.000-04:00

1) Last Friday, Anne did what Anne does and was wanting to slap my posterior. I saw the look in her eye! So, I wiggled it in her face and told her to go ahead (yes, we'd been drinking and dancing). She swats me and instantly looks up and says, "How's Lauren been?"

Ass-ociation.

2) The other day, I was telling Anne how bad my next day was going to be...to the extent I was programming in a reminder to myself to eat at lunch. "What else could I forget that's vital?"
"Brush teeth. Bathe."
"Sleep."
"Remove tampon."
"No, I'm keeping that."

3) The coffee and tea companies are getting serious about their copy. The San Lorenzo Dark roast is "bold, dark, exquisite." Gimme summa that! And then there's the Lemon Blueberry PASSION tea. Hey, I have lemon blueberry passion! It's like we were meant to BE.

crying from desire

2007-05-04T11:35:00.000-04:00

This has never happened to me before, though I've sort of wanted it to. It's true, too; my eyes are watering from Want.

But it's a worthy cause. Meet the cocoa bar. Specifically, it was this that did it to me - : rasberry truffle cake :. As if that's not enough to liquify my brains and have them run down...well, nothing sounds good here and I do not want to ruin my appetite, but the point is that the new one is right by my darling LZP's.

Okay, the thought of doing our margaritas-to-go and eating some of these chocolates and then some blood orange and grapefruit gelati with Pelle in the dogpark just made me get misty with anticipatory joy. Oh sunshine, we've missed ye.

iscream, lover

2007-05-03T17:31:00.000-04:00

I've never been able to talk dirty to a lover, but judging by the filth that was just coming out of my mouth as I sat un-observed talking to my ice cream, I think I know what I need to imagine if I want to possibly pull off Le Dirty Parle.

the ghost of william's testicle

2007-05-01T21:22:00.000-04:00

I admire the aplomb with which my dear friend (with the help of his many and wonderful friends who are not me) handled his diagnosis of testicular cancer and resulting surgery. It's not surprising, but typical. Still - appreci-a-ti-on.

Apparently this was bothering me more than I was aware, however, and made itself be known in dreamland last night - and, fittingly, in a most appropriately annoying way.

IN THE DREAM, Balls (long ago referred to as TMS, in keeping with blogging naming constraints) was there. I call Balls Balls because he would say it as an exclamation, and he climbs crazy high things and is generally balls-out. Of course, initially it was to try to get him to stop exclaiming, "Balls!" but we know how those things play out. One of the last times I saw Balls, I believe between trips to the Himalayas and to partake of the TransSiberian Railroad, he was all chatty about wanting to have kids. As I recall, I had spontaneous and temporary Parkinson's develop, being unable to stop shaking my head 'no' as he talked. ("Hello sweet baby. I know it's my fault who your dad is. Or was. Since he died trying to backflip off Everest. And Aunt Emi and Aunt Anne totally have alibis. Wink wink. Urm, sorry, though. I goofed. You got me.") Also, he always had at least 1/8" of facial hair. Why? Why?! And usually at least 1/4". Outside of the Arctic Circle, no one should have facial hair - or certainly not on a regular basis.

Anyhairroot, Balls has shaved (so many layers of meaning - totally), and is attempting to make himself appealing as a mate. As he keeps talking, I start making a case for how serious reproductive stuff is, and tell him about how William had this particular cancer, and his funny photos, and how so many people began judging his sperm and leaving comments as to their appearance/destiny. Balls is un-phased, and counters. He has had this testicular cancer so had his manstuff frozen. All I have to do is agree and he can have me knocked up with more surety than an average male. (This would appeal to him, so the thought will never be shared. With him. Who doesn't know diddly about this blog.) More insidiousness ensued, but unlike so many other things I'd gladly forget, this bit my brain has mercifully blocked from memory.

hey hey hey, it's may day

2007-05-01T21:08:00.000-04:00

Remember how nice it was when you were little and you'd wake up on May Day and be all, "Weeeee! Where are my lace doilies?! [Then, more manically...] I must make May Day baskets for all our old neighbors and leave them on their front doors, and it will be a total surprise and make them so happy and and andAND AND..." [spinning girlishly, giggling and being in love with the sky and sun] "I have to start picking flowers THIS INSTANT."

Then the careful selection of which blossoms had reached their prime and it was justifiable to sacrifice, keeping them watered as the bouquets were prepared, and then matching them up in what were essentially floral death ceremonies. (Oh, stop. I know, I know - such the Romantic. Sweet youth!)

Finally, walking them discreetly down the block, a smaller crop each year, as I realized how few of our neighbors I actually considered worthy. Halloween? Carefully noted. "You-a give me a leetle sumthin' sweet, and I'll-a give-a you a leetle bit a dees [flowers]..." Then, in the end, the disappointment that the purity of the sentiment was getting colored, and probably at least ten to thirty minutes of self-criticism before resolving to Put Things Right and put some bouquets even onto the doors of total strangers.

To regret later.

Yay! May Day!

good at being pretty and that's all they see

2007-05-01T20:59:00.000-04:00

That's our house.

I love it that I just found this note on my bedroom floor (sounding so much spicier than it is), have absolutely zero idea of where it came from, and after reading, "You are so beautiful that I want to kiss you," my first thought was, 'I wonder if this is mine or if it was for KR or JS.' There's no telling. It could've gotten swept in under the door. The paper? Somewhat familiar looking. The handwriting? Girly. The wording? Unspecific.

Go to it, supersleuths. Nancy Drew, we need you!

theeee perfume

2007-04-27T18:31:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-26T22:18:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-25T16:56:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-25T12:06:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-25T11:53:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-22T23:38:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-22T11:29:00.000-04:00

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?

2007-04-20T07:57:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-19T12:18:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-19T11:47:00.000-04:00

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

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

2007-04-18T09:39:00.000-04:00

...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

2007-04-16T13:57:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-16T11:54:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-11T12:11:00.000-04:00

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?

2007-04-11T11:40:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-10T17:42:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-08T13:34:00.000-04:00

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.

2007-04-08T12:47:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-06T09:56:00.000-04:00

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.

2007-04-03T22:30:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-02T21:11:00.000-04:00

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.

det finns altid

2007-03-31T13:46:00.000-04:00

So...so...many bizarre conversations. Because we need them.

In one spawned by Jav's guilt over possibly destroying a man's career yesterday, he recounted for the others one of my favorites. In some conference call, this dude was being an arseholio and they were butting heads a bit then the guy says, "Look, we can do this all day, and call each other names back and forth...," so J says, "Okay, you're a jerk. Your turn." Dude doesn't appreciate. Point proven - but missed. Womp.

Then, Crowley and I were bemoaning the ongoing issue with smoking still being allowed out here in Chicago. "Come on. The issue's that it affects others. Are these the same people who think pregnant women should drink? It's not like smoking is being made illegal."
"We aren't even restricting how much they smoke. Or who they subject to their smoke on their own property."
"Ya. 'It's okay. You can still lay in bed and smoke even.' But [light going off] maybe they should only be allowed to smoke in bed." And once we worked out a few kinks, came up with pretty good supporting arguments.

On another note - at once fulfilling and alarming - Ajmal has begun to exhibit nearly human-like behaviors. He clarifies they are illusions for the sake of profit, but the outcome is the same so I it's still progress for my little golem of a friend. (Ajmal has been the Pakistani Alex P. Keaton his whole life, as far as anyone knows.) At the same time, there are some political areas where we are in agreement. Neither of us knows how to process this.

Earlier yesterday, Jav wanted to finally get his Aztec tattoo, and we almost got a telescope, but then he didn't think there was time for the tattoo, and said he knows it disappoints me and he's sorry because he knows I want him to suffer. "No, not that so much. How about some acupuncture though?" No. "Need any vaccinations?" Nostril flare. "Can we say you were poisoned and need to be inoculated? Don't look at me like that. We won't really poison you." So he kept whining and telling everyone last night to check in on him every now and then, just in case. Today, however, he says, "Hey, D! Let's weigh your head!" "We'd have to cut if off, Jav." He smiles.

Meanwhile, there's a general consensus that it's abnormal-in-a-nice-way how much Augie-ites stay in touch and are good friends still. Ya, decapitation. Touching.

enviable

2007-03-30T11:11:00.000-04:00

...my host is not.

Since arriving at my friend's, I have:

run into a doorjamb last night, which somehow caused

a frame to fall off the wall and break glass all over the floor, (but wait - that's not all!)

when the frame fell it also hit a lightswitch and somehow cleanly broke off about 1/3 of it

distinctly heard friend state preference for a taking of the coffee black but then watched self start slowly putting sugar into coffee while the bloated hamster on its wheel that is my brain processed it was not my coffee being so assaulted with sweetening agent
thought I'd be nice and do a bunch of laundry but neglected to check pockets so now the shredded remains of a cab receipt and apparently a novella and a ton of matches are having a party all over the laundry

If I were a dog, they'd put me down.