I have recently fallen in love with Stacy's Pita Chips and Morningstar Farms Chik'n Strips. (Though it still bugs me when meatless products call themselves "Chik'n.")
I'm now on a mission to find new favorite foods that ends in "ips."
Make that three times this past week I've run (if you assume a Sunday->Saturday week). The original plan was to run around the lake twice, just to get some distance in since I'm no longer running those long Sunday runs. But it was hot. And I forgot my iPod armband holder thingie so I had to hold it the whole time. And I didn't have any water with me. And it was hot. And I'd only eaten some yogurt and granola all day. And did I mention it was hot?
It's not that I couldn't have run around twice, easily. I hope I can get back into the mentality of running longer distances by myself. If not, or at least until the weather cools off, I hope running 3 miles 5 times a week burns as many calories as running 5 miles 3 times a week.
And I hope I can drag my ass out of bed 5 mornings a week.
I don't care that selling out isn't really selling out if you're a small(ish) band that is just trying to make some money. I don't care if it exposes you to new audiences and helps you pay for your tour expenses and hookers and drugs.
However!! It REALLY bugs me that I just heard a somewhat clever Franz Ferdinand song as the background to some hair product commercial. And the other oldie but goodie that soon followed - ""CRUMBELIEVABLE""??? The dumbest, yet catchiest, and best, (and only?) song EMF ever did is selling a goddamned Kraft product for people too lazy to shred cheese??
I know I'm repeating myself, but PEOPLE, PLEASE. This is even worse than no one making a decent, brand-new movie because all the movie makers are too lazy to create something new. Instead they just want to remake, sequel, remake, sequel, remake*.
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* Oh come on. It's been made in some shape or form already.
That's how my day was. From cover sheets on the TPS reports... to flair... to 'can I get that in cornflower blue?'...
Why does it say paper jam when there is no paper jam?
This is my life and it's ending one minute at a time.
> 1. FIRST NAME? jennifer
> 2. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? i believe my name is informally carried on from the countless virginias of the family
> 3. WHEN DID YOU LAST CRY? some bloody soup commercial, i'm sure
> 4. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? not at all
> 5. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCHMEAT? morningstar farms "chicken" patty
> 6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? most days, yes
> 7. DO YOU HAVE A JOURNAL? exhibit a.
> 8. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? who, me? neeeeeeeeverrrrrrrrrrrrr.
> 9. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? yes
> 10. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? no but i want to skydive someday soon
> 11. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL? grape nuts
> 12. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? yes - how else would I take them off?
> 13. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? most days, yes
> 14. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR? ben & jerrys peanut butter cup
> 15. WHAT SIZE SHOE? 7
> 16. RED OR PINK? neither
> 17. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? my temper
> 18. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? at the moment, riley
> 19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? raiders satin jammies (yeah baby) and no shoes
> 20. LAST THING YOU ATE? carrots and a piece of buttermilk oatmeal bread
> 21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? alton brown's new show
> 22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? cerulean - cool name, vibrant color
> 23. FAVORITE SMELL? fresh baked bread
> 24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? a friend from my unpaid job
> 25. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE YOU ARE ATTRACTED TO? left hand, ring finger
> 26. FAVORITE DRINK? a good merlot
> 27. FAVORITE SPORT? hockey
> 28. EYE COLOR? hazel
> 29. HAT SIZE? small
> 30. CONTACTS? sometimes
> 31. FAVORITE FOOD? pizza
> 32. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDING? scary movies
> 33. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED AT THE MOVIES? clerks 2
> 34. COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? white (with raiders logo... i am all about the coordinated jammies, my friend)
> 35. SUMMER OR WINTER? winter
> 36. HUGS OR KISSES? hugs
> 37. FAVORITE DESSERT? fruit... or a nice port
> 38. WHAT BOOKS ARE YOU READING? the brothers k
> 39. WHAT'S ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? a ouija board
> 40. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? behind the scenes on good eats, then a bunch of sports night episodes on dvd (i forgot what a great show that was)
> 41. ROLLING STONE OR BEATLES? beatles
> 42. THE FURTHEST YOU'VE BEEN FROM HOME? sydney
> 43. WHERE WERE YOU BORN? maryland
I wish my cousin would stop sending me these things. I just cannot resist no matter how hard I try. Or, I wish the questions were about things people might be interested in. Cupie doll for the person who asks the most bizarre question in the comments...
Four guys + one fun song + six treadmills + one take = another GENIUS video from OK Go...
I was doing a little shopping yesterday and overheard two teenage cashiers talking about the girl's failing relationship. The girl mentioned that she was going to have to end it, and joked that she might just put it on his MySpace page.
Now, I knew Kid Rock was lame, but I never thought he could be even lamer than a teenage girl's bad joke.
... exhibit #679.
Ever since I read this, it's been really hard to watch her show without wanting to throw things at the screen whenever his face appears. She adored him, clearly, and this is how he pays her back... Niiiiiice.
Woke up fairly early, spent an hour at the gym. Came home and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast before heading to the city for a facial. Did a little shopping, went to a volunteer meeting, then headed to ceramics class.
Oh yeah, I could be retired.
We interrupt this blog to bring you BREAKING NEWS!! We just had an earthquake... We don't know the magnitude, the damage or if there were any injuries. We just wanted to plant a little fear in your House-watching hearts!!
And now, back to your show.
And this was like Fight Club meets Bend It Like Beckham meets The Outsiders... Only a little more predictable.
However! At least I got my ironing done while I was watching it.
I got REALLY SICK of hearing about the Mel Gibson debacle REALLY QUICKLY... Especially being on vacation this week and doing lots of channel surfing during my extended breakfasts. Even CNN was covering the story, every hour on the hour, for pete's sake. It was all too stupid and attention-grabbing and "so what if Jesus was Jewish Mel made a lot of fucking money off that 'film'."
Then I heard that he had to halt plans for a miniseries about the Holocaust... and I just had to sigh at the irony. And hope for his swift demise. Or at least pray for a good South Park episode about the whole thing.
If there is a God in heaven, Tom will be next...
I was pretty much right on the mark on this one, only I DID get the jokes - I just didn't think they were funny. Whatever keeps Jason Mewes sober, I guess. Kevin Smith does have a knack for creating believably intimate scenes* between characters, I will give him that. (And the Star Wars/LOTR scene did make me laugh out loud several times.)
On the other side of the genre spectrum was Shopgirl. I think I liked it. Mostly, it just made me sad. But I'm liking Jason Schwartzman more and more.
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* To clarify, I'm not referring to the donkey/Sexy Stud scene - I mean the ones between Becky and Dante. (Yeah, it was that kind of movie. Sigh.)
Five things I WILL NOT miss about marathon training, in no particular order:
Tonight, I'm not really in the mood for the movies Netflix has sent me. So my choices for TV viewing are between four stupid reality shows on network TV, four stupid reality shows on cable, and fifteen reruns of Law & Order on various cable stations.
Seriously.
OK, I might exaggerate a bit on the Law & Order reruns. Some of them are actually CSI reruns...
The best thing about working when you are supposed to be on PTO is that you can constantly say out loud, to no one in particular, "I'm not even supposed to BE HERE today!!"
Yeah, I will see the sequel. I fear it will be a lot of jokes I just don't understand because I'm not quite there yet, and I will wish it had never been made, and I will go home and watch the original just to reaffirm that there was a time when Kevin Smith was in the same mental space as me.
But yeah, I will see the sequel. And tomorrow, I am ON PTO. DAMMIT.
I need to read the book. But I hear this was pretty close. And apparently a fairly timeless story, sad as that sounds.
Five movies the latest, slowest, longest movie I have ever sat through blatantly stole from, in no particular order:
Today on the bus coming home from the BART coming home from the airport (spare the air!), I was sitting near a mom and her very cute smallish child (no older than 3). They were quietly playing "guess that sound" and one of the sounds she made was a "weeeeeawweeeeeawweeeeeaw" sound, which to the untrained ear sounded mostly like an ambulance or possibly a police siren.
When she asked him what made that sound, he promptly replied, "car alarm!"
I wasn't suprised when they got off the bus near my old neighborhood...
Nice little ditty about a girl and her brother. I can relate.
With my brother, it was allllll about the music. Kiss, or Run-DMC, or Led Zeppelin. I was forced to memorize many a song by all of these bands. Fortunately I have blacked out most of the Kiss songs. But I still love Zeppelin. And I have a very fond memory of being about ten years old, playing H-O-R-S-E in the backyard, and alternating the lyrics to King of Rock over, and over, and over, and over again. (He was Run, I was DMC.) To this day I still remember most of the words. Once in a while I find myself singing this song in my head during boring meetings. It's quite empowering - "You can't touch me with a ten foot pole and I even made the devil sell me his soul!" Try it sometime.
My brother is the reason why - to this day - I firmly believe that Kashmir is the greatest song ever written, why I listen to Black Sabbath now and then, why I own any concert t-shirts (my birthday or Christmas gifts from shows he went to and I didn't - bastard), why I went all old-school and saw Pearl Jam last Saturday (and it. fucking. ROCKED).
He's also the reason I can spell "beginning," why I have a fondness for Baby Ruth candy bars, and why seeing a pile of stuffed animals makes me want to hurl them across the room. But those are stories for another day.
Her Majesty spent most of today (when she wasn't whining for food) stretched out on the tile whining about the heat. WTFE, man. I'm off to miserably hot, humid L.A. for five days. Woo-hoo.
Kidding, it will be fun. There will be lots of painting and decorating and furniture-arranging and artwork-hanging and a trip to the San Diego Zoo. And of course lots of eating and consumption of good beer. And most importantly, catching up with an old friend.
In miserably hot, humid housing that probably does not have air conditioning.
Yarg.
Recent attempts to remind Her Majesty that she's already eaten her dinner even though - YES! I am in the kitchen again! and YES! chances are likely that I will be in the kitchen AGAIN in the near future! oh, what a crazy world this is, that it doesn't revolve around YOU! - include:
OK Connie, I'll bite. Subject to change with my mood of course. (For the record, I have never found James Lipton pretentious - he seems to always laugh - at himself, or with others - how can that be pretentious? Annoyingly organized and thorough, perhaps. But not pretentious.)
What is your favorite word?
"freedom"
What is your least favorite word?
"nu-cu-lar"
What turns you on creatively, spiritually, or emotionally?
anything that lets me dive in and lose myself in it, anything that makes me forget that the world around me exists
What turns you off?
people with no concern for anyone and/or the world around them
What is your favorite curse word?
fuck
What sound or noise do you love?
whole-hearted bone-shaking laughter, the kind that brings tears to your eyes and causes snorting and gasping for breath (particularly when it comes from someone under 5 years old)
What sound or noise do you hate?
dentist's drill
What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
carpenter
What profession would you not like to do?
VP of anything
If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the pearly gates?
"so you took the blue pill, eh?"
Five things you should be ashamed that you don't know, if you make it onto my new obsession (A.K.A. how to make all these years of couching pay off), in no particular order:
A wise man once said, "sometimes, you just gotta say fuck it." Myself, I say that all the time. (Does that make me wise too?!)
Today for example, I was going to:
Everything Is Illuminated ... another book in the long list of books that never should've been made into a movie. Brilliant acting, but the story was completely butchered in translation. (Do yourself a favor, read the book.)
The Outsiders re-release w/new score and commentary by some of the actors ... hear Rob Lowe whine about every single scene where he was supposed to have more lines! Hear everyone rag on what a competitive showoff asshole Tom Cruise was! (Unlike the aforementioned - what a great adaptation of book to movie. Timeless.)
The Dying Gaul ... it had me until about halfway through. Should've been left as a play.
... I just don't think I could date a guy named "Fred." No offense to anyone named Fred, of course. I feel the same way about the name "Boris."
The plot was stupid, on the surface. But it starred Laura Linney, Topher Grace, Gabriel Byrne and Marcia Gay Harden... so I had to check it out.
Have I mentioned that I heart Topher Grace? I mean, I loved him on That 70's Show - hell, I loved them all. Well, except for Wilmer. But while the other goofballs have chosen similarly goofball film characters, he hasn't. (Yeah, okay, he's only been in a few films. And yeah, the rest of the cast hasn't really broken out in the film arena. And yeah, okay, there was The Butterfly Effect - an attempt at seriousness, I suppose.)
But it's pretty obvious, as the E! documentary about the sitcom stated, that while others were honing their partying skills, he went home and... oh I dunno, looked for good roles. (Yeah, okay, so I didn't watch the whole documentary.)
Anyway. The plot was as stupid as it might sound. But the performances were fairly moving, especially the scenes between Linney and Grace. I can't honestly say that I don't recommend the film.
Have I mentioned that I heart Topher Grace?
I really need a hobby.
Damn you, Connie! Now you've got me doing it. It's like an addiction I can't shake, and I don't even know what the purpose is. As is true for most things in the World Wide Web.
I'm probably not winning points with Hot Building Manager by making him call me to remind me to pay my rent this month. "Um, yeah hi, my bathtub is still leaking and did you know the dryer is broken oh and also I'm a flake!"
Niiiiice.
Note to readers: do not sign up to take over something of mine if you don't have the time, energy, or wherewithall to take it on with any amount of significance that will take the burden off me. Because it will only serve to PISS ME OFF.
This was actually a question on the profile thingie. "Other than your parents, who has been the most influential person in your life?" Is it bad that the only person I could honestly name was Michael Stipe?
So I'm reading through my initial profile matches and the first one I read is that of a guy I met through Match.com last year and didn't really hit it off with. BAH.
So then I go on to complete more about me... And under the "Can't Stand"s:
Do people who use eHarmony listen to Live 105? Like Fight Club? Drink beer? Ride motorcycles? Mosh?
The commercials imply not.
I guess I'll find out soon enough.
A combination of recent events, namely TV-watching events, specifically The Constant Gardener and Pearl Jam on VH1 Storytellers, have gotten me to thinking again. Never a good sign.
I think part of the reason I'm so reluctant to join the adult world is that I don't want to lose my cynicism. My drive toward the greater good. My spare time to make a contribution to something worthwhile. So many of my friends who have houses and/or kids only have time for their houses and/or kids. Both are, of course, worthwhile endeavors, don't get me wrong. Time-consuming worthwhile endeavors.
I have a recurring conversation with a friend at work about how he wishes he had more time and energy for social activism, but after a full work day, house chores on the weekends and constantly keeping up with the kid, it's just not there. So I try to stay socially active because I know he cannot.
What does this have to do with The Constant Gardener or Pearl Jam? The former, I'm not entirely sure. I don't need a cause I would die for. I just need to care about something(s) worldly, care enough to consistently dedicate time and energy toward it. Maybe Al Gore needs help organizing his global warming conferences. I can make pretty powerpoint graphs as good as the rest of them.
The latter... [If you don't know of, or care about, the grunge phenomenon you can stop reading now.] I can't talk enough (no matter how hard I try! and no matter how much people ignore me!) about how music is such a part of my life, and this particular era had a HUGE influence on me. Suddenly people cared in their angsty ways of caring, they were pissed off - and at the time, just coming out of my whitebred suburban shell and seeing some of the injustices in the world, I could relate. And then a few years later, many of those same people (those who weren't in rehab, anyway) went off, got married and had kids, and suddenly all was right with their world. (See: Ed Kowalczyk/"Heaven." BAH.)
The guys in Pearl Jam, wives and/or kids in tow, are clearly still pissed off. And I like that.
My neighbor and I have a catsitting deal which has worked out very nicely. Her furry friends are sweet and cuddly and she seems to adore Her Majesty. There's only one problem with this deal. Whenever she gets back from a trip, she brings me a thank-you gift... which of course is unnecessary in the first place. But it's becoming more and more unnecessary with time.
This most recent trip of hers won me something straight out of Country Living. (Nothing against that style - it's just not mine.) Now, I don't mean to sound ungrateful, because it's so nice that she even thinks to bring me anything. And I usually try to bring her something she might like when I go away on trips. It's just that it's hard to hide a "not-your-style" gift away in a closet when you know the person will be in your living room in three weeks to catsit. I've tried the old "you're so thoughtful to always get me something but really, it's not necessary" line before each trip... to no avail. The strangest part is that she has generally good taste, and she's seen my decorating style many, many times.
So I hereby give you all permission: If I give you something that makes you later scrunch your nose and wonder why the hell I thought you might like it, please feel free to hide it, give it away, whatever. I won't be offended. Promise.
It's true. I did. But this wasn't me.
In other movie-related news... I wonder exactly how much of the Princess Bride I can recite from memory, having watched it nineteen times on video plus every time I run across it on TV?
Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.
Julianne Moore has played her share of housewives in turmoil. But her performance in this film was remarkably engaging. It was based on the memoirs of one of the ten children, which made it even more believable (because, well, it was true).
Woody Harrelson put in a stellar performance as the alcoholic father, and the best part about this movie is that it was the first Woody film I've seen in a long time where I could watch him onscreen without thinking "tree-hugging oxygen-bar-sniffing pot-smoking vegan." Excellent role choice, sir.
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Did you know that Woody is on the board of the directors for the Ex'pression Center For New Media in Emeryville? So says IMDB.
I lost my arms and legs and all I got was this lousy iPod.
100% stolen from BWE: "He’ll need at least that many if he wants to fulfill his dream to start his very own cult."
One thing about living in California I never could stomach, all the damn Coreys.
I really don't understand how people can try to get you to sign a petition or answer a phone survey without being able to explain the purpose of the petition/survey. I just got a call from someone wanting me to answer some environmental questions, and I spent a good 10 minutes trying to understand the purpose of the survey, who it was for, what greater good the responses would serve. She couldn't answer, so I hung up.
Occasionally I get phone calls asking me to give my opinion on certain songs played on the radio. I'm happy to sit through those - especially when it means I can say "don't ever play that again" about Creed or Nickelback songs. Or "we need K-GAY more than once a year."
That what this film should've been called.* I cannot express how tired I am of the recent outpouring of films depicting minors and their engagements with sex on various levels. This film also featured a twelve year old drinking routinely, with no reprimanding from the parental units. Bonus!!
I guess this is to be expected in this day and age.
I guess this irritates me because I am just getting old.
I don't know which of those two statements is more depressing.
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* Although I have to admit that Laura Linney gave a stellar performance.
I saw Thank You for Smoking right around the time of my America: The Calendar "Meet Your Lobbyists" daily entry.
(Money given in 2000: $112,188,449 but only on a contingency basis.)
It was pretty good, to a point.
(Represents: Themselves... and very well, we might add.)
And then it got a little trite. But then it got better again.
(Recipients of their largesse: Let's see, who amongst our nation's lawmakers might have interest in the law...)
I wish I could lobby. I couldn't debate my way out of a paper bag. Well, maybe a wet paper bag.
Anderson Cooper's iTunes playlist bugged me... I mean, Smashing Pumpkins? The Clash? New Order? Come ON.
And then I read this. And it all made sense.
In no particular order...
To make up for my truly ridiculous day today, I went to my unpaid job meeting even though I was feeling kinda lousy (because of allergies, not because of my day per se). And despite the fact that I had way too much to contribute to a marketing conversation, I felt good when I left.
Afterward I went to the grocery store and when I got in line, the guy who got in line behind me only had two items so I insisted he go in front of me. The next person behind me forgot her Safeway card and they were all out of "loaners," so I lent her mine. And I brought my own canvas bag, so I didn't have to feel guilty walking out with nine thousand plastic bags, all double bagged, and no I don't need help out thanks.
I better do something evil tomorrow, lest I jinx myself with all this good-deed-doing.
1. Going to see A Prairie Home Companion - which was actually a cute little film. Before you mock - my college roomie was from Minniesooooota and therefore a HUGEMONGOUS Garrison Keilor fan, and I got to know his stuff (good and bad) - and also my dad practically raised me on bluegrass. Top off with overalls and a bandana around my hair, and I was quite at home... although probably the youngest in the theater by about 30 years.
2. Calling home afterward and hearing about all the cousins who are pregnant (and the fathers are either in jail, or "of another race and comes from a cult," or not willing to marry just yet). My extended family is like a bad after-school special. And that's why I love them.
Bee Season: the highlight was seeing the Kwik Way - read the book.
Rent: more theatrical than the play, but just not the same.
Elizabethtown: yeah, RIGHT.
Five (or so) things that make me happy today, in no particular order:
No, it's not what you think. (OK, I don't really know what you could possibly be thinking, but it's not THAT.)
It's a Fever of Unidentified Origin. Yunno, I've been watching X-Files reruns lately, and frankly I think today's vet saw the same episode I did. That is to say, he made that shit up. Which just further proves the point that I should be a veterinarian. (Can't I just substitute a semester of making shit up for biochem? Damn that biochem!)
One sleepless night of poking and prodding to make sure she was still alive, two milliliters of antibiotics and two fluid injections later, Her Majesty's FUO has subsided and she is eating again. My plot to get her to eat again involved bringing a handful of food wherever she was laying looking miserable at the time, and putting it right under her nose. She bought into it. So much so, that for a little while I thought that might be my life from there on out. But she finally remembered the food bowl, which holds much more of a bounty than my little hands can carry. Whew.
Anyway, today's vet didn't seem to think it was anything to worry about, so I'm to continue antibiotics for six more days (at 6am and 6pm - yes, that's 6am - woohoo) and all should be fine.
All this was very good news because it meant I got to see a very good play tonight, written by Alan Ball (who scripted American Beauty and Six Feet Under among other things). So you know it was funny and fucked up all at the same time. My favorite kind of story.
Well, not really. But when I got home from work today, the usually whiny-waiting-by-the-door-FEED-ME-NOW Her Majesty was sitting in her kitty bed by the balcony. She didn't get up when I walked over, and she looked awfully lethargic. She tried to stand up, which lasted about 10 seconds before she eased herself back down to laying, and I had flashbacks of my old cat Spanky who went into a coma and died from a kidney infection. So of course I rushed her to the emergency vet. (I would've done so even without the flashbacks, of course.)
Turns out she is suffering from the equivalent of a human's 103.5 degree fever, with no other symptoms, and the emergency vet couldn't offer a reasonable explanation for it. So they gave her some fluids, and she's on antibiotics, and I'm to monitor her temperature (FUN!) for the next day or so and escalate to the regular/emergency vet as needed.
She's now sleeping, or trying to sleep between me poking and petting her to make sure she's still alive.
I wish that she could talk. Or at least that she could understand me. 'Cause I would hate anything to happen to her.
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The weirdest part about the evening is that I walked out with two X-rays of my cat's internal organs. I have to surrender them to her regular vet should she become worse, but for now they're kinda interesting.
Tonight is the series finale of Everwood. Yeah, it's cheesy. Yeah, real life doesn't really work like this. Yeah, even more so since that Party of Five guy came on board. But I will miss it. And not just because I have an unprecedented crush on Treat Williams (which originates from his Hair days). That's a big reason, but not the only reason. OK, Ephram is kinda hot too. Young, but hot.
Sad but true. This is my life.
It has been BLOODY HOT in my apartment the last few days. BLOODY HOT. So I've been avoiding it as much as possible. Adding to that is my new Sunday afternoon tradition of going to a movie (two weeks in a row makes it a tradition right?). Since I run on Sunday mornings, usually by about noon I've had enough of Mr. Sun and I like to hide out in dark, cool places.
Her Majesty, as you know, does not have that luxury. And so she loafs. And stretches out on the bathroom or kitchen tile to stay cool. And whines. A LOT.
Today, because I've apparently just been too happy lately, I decided to see An Inconvenient Truth. To my surprise, I left the theater in a good mood. The film itself was interesting, there were lots of pretty graphs (and we all know how much to trust pretty graphs! - kidding, he seems to have been doing his research these last 25 years), lots of pictures of melting ice caps, some humor and just enough of a peek into Gore's life in an attempt to convince us of his conviction (but not enough so that it was personal). It worked for me.
I did leave wondering what else I personally could be doing... I mean, I recycle everything I can possibly recycle (except food scraps, unfortunately my neighborhood isn't there yet). I take the bus to work, I drive my fuel-efficient car no more than 10-15 miles a week on average, I support worthy environmental organizations, I have living breathing plants on my balcony. Right now I can't do much about energy-efficient appliances, other than use the energy-efficient washer/dryer in my building (which I do) versus going to the cheap laundromat up the street.
And then it hit me - I could be working for an environmental organization that supports animals! It could possibly give me the animal interaction I seem to crave without the biochemistry requirement. And I would be contributing to the future. Hmm. There really might be something there...
Thanks Al! Sorry you "lost"!
While you were wondering how to pass the time on Friday, I was wasting mine on these items, in no particular order:
Friends with Money: Olivia (or possibly Jane*) = me in nine years.
Junebug: Not sure what all the fuss was about.
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* (who screams at people who try to cut in line ahead of her)
Thursday I sent an email to some people saying "I'm not sure what value I'm adding to this project, I originally signed up to do this (which I was very interested in doing) and now I'm doing that (which I don't really have any experience or interest in doing)." Then I offered some suggestions for what I could be doing with my time that would a) be more interesting to me and b) be more valuable to the project in the long term.
The response I got was that I should take a few weeks off.
At least it wasn't a request to take a permanent vacation.
Stolen from someone who pretty much summarized my raison d'etre these days: "I'm not even a bridesmaid around here, more like a crazy relative no one wanted to invite to the wedding, but didn't really have a choice in the matter, let's sit her in the back row and hope we don't have to interact with her!"
OK, in addition to the author's biased intro to this clip ("Enjoy this performance of a song made famous by Elton John, George Michael and Freddie Mercury!"), the final cinch... He sounds EXACTLY like Cher.
I am SOOOOO with Kathy Griffin on this one.
(Oh and also, that was kinda my favorite Elton John song, especially since Roger Daltrey remade it for the Lost Boys soundtrack. 'Til now, anyway.)
Sweet, because today two friends announced their impending nuptials. There aren't many people I clearly see as "meant for each other"* but these two definitely fit the bill. About a year ago, after way too much whiskey at the WOW! I vaguely recall gushing to the future groom about how lovely their relationship was, and how inspiring it was to me, and how I wished the best for them, and "why the hell haven't you proposed yet?!". And now here they are. To the happy couple, huzzah!
On that note. Bitter, because I am now the last single woman standing in that group of friends. Saaaay... I should get a prize! But seriously. It just makes me wonder if I'm in the right place. Most of the time I am content. Men schmen. Babies schmabies. It's only when I'm around six or seven couples, most of whom have kids or are on their way to parenthood, that I start to wonder what this life is all about. And I remember that I often don't do things because I don't have anyone to do them with, and it's always more fun to do things with other people. I think about missed opportunities (which inevitably leads down several ex-boyfriend trails followed by a few "THANK GOD I didn't marry HIM!"s). And most importantly I wonder if my friends and I will still have things to talk about in two years when everyone's a mom and I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.
Crazy Aunt Jenny indeed. I'm a million different people from one day to the next. Veterinary school looks pretty competitive, from what I can tell. There don't even seem to be many vet tech schools around. Maybe I should just volunteer at the local shelter and call it a day.
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* a. I hate the phrase as a general concept, and b. most people tend to generally get along and then meld well together over time versus being clearly "meant" to be together.
Transamerica: I loved Walk the Line, but Felicity Huffman was robbed.
Capote: I don't use this word often, but - riveting.
Grey's Anatomy, Season One: the best thing on network TV right now.
Beck at the Fillmore: Team America puppeteers, what more could you ask for?
Thumbsucker: better than Chumscrubber.
Jarhead, Hustle and Flow, Good Night and Good Luck: couldn't watch - must re-rent during the winter of our discontent.
Magician Penn Jillette has become a father for the second time after his wife, Emily, gave birth to a baby boy on Monday.
Zolten Penn Jillette was born at a Las Vegas, Nev., hospital weighing 8 pounds, 13 ounces.
Jillette says, "Zolten is a common Hungarian name, it's my wife's maiden name and most importantly, it's the name of Dracula's dog."
The couple have an 11-month-old daughter named Moxie Crimefighter.
"Because you were referred to me, I wanted to personally invite you as my guest to attend the nation's #1 conference on Real Estate Investing & Total Asset Protection. At this conference you will learn how to: 1. Use the tools that other millionaires are using..."
WAIT, Reed West of Achieving Excellence. Am I a millionaire? Why do you, my junk mail, know that I'm a millionaire but I DON'T?
Oh and also, I've never seen a "formal invitation" with a P.S., a P.P.S. and a P.P.P.S. Reed West must also be a high school sophomore.* If so - L.Y.L.A.S., Reed!
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* Yeah, yeah. I use multiple P.S.'s in emails all the time. But that's email - not a formal invitation to be someone's VIP guest at a bloody $69 seminar on real estate investing.
My favorite excerpt from the help page of Google Trends:
Keep in mind that instead of measuring overall interest in a topic, Google Trends shows users' propensity to search for that topic on Google on a relative basis. For example, just because a particular region isn't on the Top Regions list for the term "haircut" doesn't necessarily mean that people there have decided to stage a mass rebellion against society's conventions. It could be that people in that region might not use Google to find a barber, use a different term when doing their searches, or simply search for so many other topics unrelated to haircuts that searches for "haircut" make up a very small portion of the search volume from that region when compared to other regions.Is it just me, or does that explanation seem directed at our government and Dubyah himself in particular?
Five things I really want to read/see/hear, based solely on their name, in no particular order:
(AKA my rant for the week.)
The subject could be a parody of a fairly decent song by His Majesty The Boss, a much better parody than "Born in East LA" by Cheech and Chong. But it's true. I was born in the wrong decade.
Tonight after a few Muppet viewings I remembered that the re-aired Martin Scorsese PBS special about Bob Dylan was on tonight and tuned into that instead. While remembering how totally fucking awesome Dylan is, I also recalled the sad fact that our generation doesn't really have a cause.
I mean, there's the war, but other than cringing at the news and Daily Show every day, do we as a collective society really have any more energy to put toward fighting this? My guess, from the reactions I've seen lately, is... not really. What good has our energy to date done? None. What good will it do going forward? Not much, I'm guessing.
While driving downtown last week, I saw a street protest about the war that consisted of about 50 people walking down the street waving signs and pounding on drums. They had a cavalcade of police escorts. All I could think was, "do the downtown Oakland police really have nothing better to do than escort 50 people waving signs and chanting?" I immediately felt like an old person.
It's not that I'm against collective peaceful protests, or fighting the good fight, or anything like that. I'm just feeling a bit defeated right now. I think the Axis of Evil (or Axis of Weavels, or Axes of Weebles, or whatever the hell they're called now) has won for the moment.
On the upside (because I'm all about upsides these days) I do think that people are tired. I do think we just need a little vacation before the next ridonculous governmental mandate, and then we'll be prime for the fight.
I can't say that I don't love Masters of War, particularly Pearl Jam's remake of the song. I've said it before and I'll say it again - it's a great song overall and ironically or not, it's also a great workout song. But I currently live for the day when "all the money you made will never buy back your soul" will have some impact to people who should be impacted by it.
Top five corporate buzzwords or buzzphrases I never, EVER want to hear again, in no particular order:
I was looking for a little inspiration today, after staying home to fight a bug I apparently contracted yesterday after several doses of novocaine and 30 minutes of drilling at the dentist, plus a really hot apartment for several hours when I got home, plus the aforementioned salmon debacle.
Also yesterday, my stylist had to cancel my eagerly-awaited haircut appointment to go to the emergency room (the AUDACITY!)... so that didn't really help my mood.* Plus my leg hurt from Sunday's run, so I probably couldn't have run my 30 minute maintenance run today anyway... so that didn't really help my mood. And the NSA is tracking every call I make, but no one will tell me who keeps trying to fax me something at all hours of the night... And Britney is going to rap... And they kicked Chris off American Idol... Bah, bah, bah. But hey, at least I wasn't at work.
I channel-surfed for about 30 minutes - breezing past HGTV, skipping a "raising baby clouded leopards" special on Animal Planet, not pushing the + button fast enough when I landed on "the fabulous lives of..." and FOX news.
And then I found Fat Camp.
OK, I thought - kids losing weight, that could be inspiring. Five minutes into it I realized that the actual fat camp was a side story. OH MY GOD the drama. I forgot what it's like to be 13, 14, 15 and socially awkward, emotionally volitile, and subject to the superficialities and overall jackassedness of other teenagers.
And that was my inspiration. I'm in my thirties now. Never again will I have to go through that hell. It's all gravy from here.
Or so I hear. :)
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* Of course I pray she's well. If not now, then by Thursday at my rescheduled time, so she can cut my freakin' hair. Kidding. (Sorta.)
Next time you're in Trader Joe's, and you see pre-packaged salmon in a bag, marinated with dill and lemon, and you just have to pop the bag in the oven for 10 minutes and the salmon is ready to eat... DON'T DO IT.
I have finally learned my lesson. I am never, ever, EVER buying pre-packaged fish again. It's all fancy restaurant fish from here on out. Nevermore will meat enter this apartment.
Bleeeeaaaaaahhhhh...
[Editor's belated note: in retrospect, I actually think the salmon was fine - not the greatest fish I've ever had, but edible and I didn't have to touch raw fish, which is what I was going for. I think it was the combo of a bloody hot apartment and novocaine/drilling earlier in the day that all added up to BLECH.]
Tonight I was fixing dinner while Her Majesty literally sat at my feet and whined. She'd already been fed her daily dose of squishy food, most of which was still sitting there prime for the taking. And it was the kind she tended to slurp down immediately - lobster and chicken, mmmmm. Bleah.
I kept looking at her in an exasperated manner, asking what she wanted. At some point I went against every better judgement I've ever had, and broke into that song by the Spice Girls. And I was fairly appalled at how many of the words I knew.
Then, for no explicable reason, I started bursting into random Motown songs for the next several minutes... At least I didn't burst into flames.
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She's otherwise fine, as far as I can tell. I'm thinking she just needs a permanent lap.
No reason for the subject, other than I'm watching one of her specials right now and she's totally dogging on Oprah, while admiring her at the same time. Genius.
So I'm trying to offload all my extraneous CD cases via Craig's List, and it's turning into quite the ordeal. I offered first picks to the first person who replied, who luckily lives about a mile from me, but we keep missing each other. Meanwhile about 83 people have replied asking if they are still available. Do I ignore the first replier (is that even a word?) and just get rid of this stuff? Or do I remain loyal to the first replier and play phone tag for all eternity (or until we can coordinate schedules)?
I'm currently following the latter advice. I think this explains a lot about why I'm still in my current job.
I was going to use up my last two tomatoes in the veggie taco mix I was making for dinner. They were organic, and I should've eaten them eons ago, but I hadn't. When I sliced them open, I discovered that they had other plans for their last days on this earth:
(That's the clearest shot I could get - damn this fancy schmancy camera.) I've never seen seeds sprout inside a tomato before. Tomatoprocreation. It's pretty freakin' cool.
Her Majesty, on the other hand, is indifferent to the matter.
(Cribbed from Connie who cribbed it from someone else. I'm dog tired, despite sleeping till 2pm today, but I just can't resist shit like this. And no, I didn't cheat... although it might look like I did with some of the songs that came up.)
Instructions: Go to your music player of choice and put it on shuffle. Say the following questions aloud, and press play. Use the song title as the answer to the question. NO CHEATING.
How does the world see you?
Poor Places, Wilco ("they cried all over overseas - it makes no difference to me - it's hot in the poor places tonight - I'm not going outside")
Well, I have been a bit of a hermit lately...
Will I have a happy life?
The Celibate Life, The Shins ("you'll learn to live like a mouse, searching the cracks in the floor to remember all the dregs in the crowd you barely recall")
Wow the title doesn't really bode well, and the song itself doesn't get much better. Greaaaat.
What do my friends really think of me?
Down, Pearl Jam ("won't let the light escape from me - won't let the darkness swallow me")
So I'm tough despite my weak exterior. OK, I can get behind that.
What do people secretly think of me?
Dead in the Water, David Gray ("sell it like it is - it’s like the old man says - we’re dead in the water now")
Jesus, I need some happy music.
How can I be happy?
Handshake Drugs, Wilco ("oh I was chewin' gum for something to do - the blinds were being pulled down on the dew - inside, out of love, what a laugh - I was looking for you")
Or maybe I just need some of those handshake drugs.
Will I ever have children?
If I Had $1 Million, Barenaked Ladies ("if I had a million dollars - I'd buy you a monkey - haven't you always wanted a monkey?")
Hmm... monkeys ARE as much work as small children, I hear... and I've never said "I want a child" but I have said "I want a monkey."
What is some good advice for me?
So Whatcha Want, Beastie Boys ("you can't front on that")
No fronting. Check.
How will I be remembered?
Movie Star, Cracker ("the movie star, well she crashed her car - but everyone said she was beautiful even without her head")
'Nuff said.
What is my signature dancing song?
Pacific Theme, Broken Social Scene
It's an instrumental song. But probably one of the few I would dance to without prodding, actually.
What do I think my current theme song is?
Stayin' Alive, Bee Gees ("feel the city breakin’ and everybody shakin’, and we’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive - ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive")
Yeah, that sounds about right.
What does everyone else think my current theme song is?
You Just Have to Be Crazy, Grant Lee Buffalo ("you just have to be crazy don't you - you just have to be out of your mind")
I don't think everyone knows just how true this really is.
What song will play at my funeral?
I'm Still Standing, Elton John ("don't you know I'm still standing better than I ever did - looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid")
This is just weird.
What is my day going to be like?
Window Seat, John Wesley Harding ("And I know I’ve got the whole world at my feet in my window seat...")
I can dig it.
I have no idea what's on my iPod anymore. While making a playlist today, I ran across a song by Sufjan Stevens called "Come on! Feel the Illinoise!"
Also, I just noticed the song list for a Z-Trip CD, which I got at some show a while back, that reads:
The bad news: I have been instructed by several doctors not to run the scheduled 18 miles tomorrow.
The good news: I DON'T HAVE TO RUN 18 MILES TOMORROW - YEEEEEHAW! As I sit here enjoying my glass of wine, looking forward to sleeping in and enjoying fun with friends tomorrow night, I have to say that I am very happy about that.
The other good news: There's apparently nothing seriously wrong, I just need to rest my leg and do my stretches and I should be OK. And also, I'm only halfway through the training so if I recover well from this, all should be fine for the next few months. Better to take a break halfway through, than have this hit 3 weeks prior to the marathon - or run through the pain and cause major injury.
Oh, and also - I DON'T HAVE TO RUN 18 MILES TOMORROW - YEEEEEHAW!
Nothing like spending a totally enjoyable full day at work with people you actually really like, followed by an evening at unpaid-second-job with people you really like, and then coming home to a letter stating that your $250 parking ticket appeal was denied despite your best efforts and newspaper citations/article inclusions and the fact that it was a totally bogus ticket to begin with.
BAH.
That said, other than Her Majesty replaying scenes from "She Hate Me"* for the past week because I've been coming home late and going straight to the computer to finish up things for work and then going right to bed, I'm feeling much better than I did on Monday. I'm still bummed about my leg - the prognosis from the orthopedic doctor yesterday wasn't really promising ("I've never seen anything like this... bodies weren't meant to run 26 miles... why not sign up for a half marathon instead... I'm getting you to a physical therapist... etc etc"), but we'll see what the PT says tomorrow.
In part I think I don't want to come to terms with signing up for the half (versus the whole) because I know it will blow my whole motivated regimine out of the water, and I feel like I've already gained 5 pounds this week just from "resting."
Also I have about 50 people who ask me how it's going all the time, and honestly, I don't want to let them down. It's really dumb - they aren't going to be the ones pushing my wheelchair around when I rip all the tendons and ligaments in my legs to shreds. But still they motivate me.
On the other hand, being able to walk when I'm 50 is kinda appealing...
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* No, I didn't actually watch that crap. It's just the only thing that comes to mind when I glance over and see the cold glares of annoyance radiating from the small ball of fur that is clearly resenting the fact that I'm not sitting on the couch with a free, warm lap.
Seriously.
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No kittens were drugged in the making of this video. (I hope.)
Nothing like a little upbeat Smashing Pumpkins line in the subject to set the stage for this post.
Up until recently, when I was depressed I would clean like mad. LIKE MAD. Nothing was spared - the closets, the grout in the bathroom, the windows... nothing.
Lately I find that depression equals a messy home. I can't even tell you how many clothes are in that pile that need ironing, how disgusting my oven is right now (to the point where I've unplugged my smoke detector because every time I turn on the oven, the damn thing goes off... hopefully the building won't catch fire before I actually clean it and reassemble the smoke detector), how long it's been since I vaccumed. Never mind the safety issues. Given an uber-sheddy cat who has no regard for how much spare litter she gets all over the place, and the fact that I've done nothing about it... It's quite clear to me that I'm depressed.
So today, after coming to terms with my depression, I finally consented to watching North Country. I got this from Netflix several weeks ago in an effort to catch up with my post-Oscar viewings, but haven't had the patience to sit through it until now. I've been told by various people (of the non-work variety) that I needed to watch this film because of its underlying community organizing message, but after a particularly grueling day at work today, I thought I could use some inspiration.
It was inspiring. And it was based on a true story. And I was moved to tears at the appropriate places and I think they all deserved their respective Oscar nominations. But all in all, it was a Hollywood flick with a happy ending. I am no more inspired to take grassroots efforts in order to make corporate life a better place, than I was before watching it. I'm no less inspired to stop looking for a new job in a new place that's a little more functional than the one I'm in now, and I'm no more optimistic that any other job will be any better than this one. I'm no less annoyed and antagonistic about the prospect of waking up tomorrow to get through yet another day.
And worst of all - or perhaps in addition to all this - my leg. STILL. FUCKING. HURTS. And the EasyOff I sprayed is still sitting in the kitchen sink on the oven accessories (read = burner plates, not actual oven which is a whole other project), probably destroying the lungs of myself and Her Majesty as I type, preventing me from making a tasty heated snack that I am so craving right now. And no one has called in response to the 9 million applications I have sent out over the past few weeks.
On the upside, I do have food in my pantry and water in my faucet and a warm comfy bed to retire to in a little while, with books a'plenty should I choose to read them. And Her Majesty isn't too pissed at me for taking a shitload of flash-filled pictures of her tonight as she lounged cutely on the sofa. (None turned out well, but her lounging was cute. Believe me.) And I've got motrin to accommodate the PMS I am so clearly suffering from right now. So I've got that going for me.
I just wish tomorrow was Thursday. That's all.
I just saw a repeat of the Inside the Actor's Studio with Martin Lawrence, where in the first 10 minutes he spoke so highly of the wonderful high school art teacher at our alma mater with whom I never got to take an art class.
That's the closest I've come to celebrity-ism, like, ever.
I need to start stalking Marin County.
So my leg has been hurting for a few weeks now, ever since the training program put us through 14 miles of hilly San Francisco. The regular coach kept telling me to ice and rest it, and so I did, but it continued to hurt. I should've made a doctor's appointment but I've been traveling a bit for work, so I just didn't get around to it. And I figured I'd be okay today, since we were only running 8 miles. (I'm once again the Real Slim Shady.)
After the run today, I asked about my leg and the substitute coach put the ABSOLUTE FEAR OF GOD in me by reprimanding me for running through the pain. He took quite a bit of time to tell me what steps to take next, including new shoes, icing for just an hour two days in a row (10 minutes on, 10 minutes off for 3 cycles - who knew? - I'd been leaving the ice pack on because it made my leg feel better), and cutting back on the cross-training (even though the bike and elliptical seem to help stretch my leg muscle out and they said to do 3 days of cross-training).
Part of my disappointment is that the regular coach didn't give me such detailed advice when I first said my leg was hurting. Part of it is that my opposite knee has started to hurt, probably because I'm overcompensating. Part of it is that I haven't made it a priority to get to the doctor. (Yes, I have made an appointment.)
But the biggest disappointment is the potential of not finishing this marathon in July. It's still early - only halfway through the training - but there's 18 miles ahead of me next week and suddenly things aren't looking so optimistic...
Well, actually the biggest disappointment is that the eggplant parmesan I was so craving, and hobbled to the grocery store and around the kitchen to make this evening, isn't looking so promising.
Ah, the world is right again - all things come back to food.
So first there was A History of Violence. I didn't love it - the story was a bit predictable and I don't favor gangster-type movies in general - but the actors were outstanding. All of them. Of course Viggo was great, but William Hurt really stole those scenes. And I must give credit to the choreographer, or whoever told them what to do during the fight scenes. I haven't seen anything that seamless in a long time.
Then there was The Chumscrubber. I guess it was supposed to be along the lines of Donnie Darko - teen suicide, idealistic fucked up suburbia, etc. I didn't love this one either, but again the actors were really impressive, and what a cast - Glenn Close, that kid who played Billy Elliott, William Fichtner, Ralph Fiennes (as a remarkable slowly-going-insane mayor), Allison Janney, Rita Wilson, Carrie-Anne Moss... I guess with a cast like that I expected a little more.
And then for something completely different, there was The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill. What a lovely film. Her Majesty and I enjoyed that one very much.
Three movies in one night. I really need to get a life.
Next time you are on a plane, look out the window. Don't the puffy clouds look like you could just bounce on them, like a trampoline? Aren't the green grass and brown mountains (beneath the layer of smog) lovely? Isn't it so very cool to go 10,000 feet into the air, through the overcast skies, and have the sun hit you in the face?
In case it isn't blatantly obvious, I'm tired. Too much travel + an awful dream last night = cranky me.
Yes, Timothy Treadwell, you were a very troubled man. I was with you in the beginning of this film. Who amongst us hasn't yearned for the opportunity to live with the animals in nature? (OK, well, I have, maybe others have not.) And you were bringing the beauty of nature to the children of the world, and you thought you were doing the bears good. That was your mission and I bought into it.
But about 30 minutes into it, I heard the native Alaskan guy saying that you crossed the line, that you were socializing the bears to live with humans. And that was wrong - the natives respected the bears and avoided them, and vice versa. You tried to be friends with them and every other animal in your presence. The fox on your tent was cute, but then you took it as a pet and assumed it belonged to you, and that you belonged there. You assumed that they loved you like you proclaimed to love them. And you assumed the same about the bears.
Um, OK. They're BEARS. Not domestic cats or dogs, not genteel brown bears either - they were grizzly bears, who survive on instinct. Who don't kill for fun like polar bears, but rather for survival. (Oh and also, you were just 100% fucked up.)
This might be controversial, but I have to say that I'm glad you suffered the fate you did. In some sick way, I almost wanted to hear the audio of your last encounter where you died. Almost. But then I didn't because it would just be too gross. But just for validation that your existence amongst them was utterly wrong. I have utmost respect for the director for not playing this audio on the documentary, but...
But I've been in the presence of bears in their natural habitat, and yeah - humans and bears were not meant to co-exist. They were meant, as the native Alaskan referenced, to live in constant fear of each other. The bears were here first, so they get first rights to anything. Period. And we should be scared of them. And given the progression of gun enhancements in recent years, they should be scared of us.
Oh and also, you irritated me. I'm sorry you were so disappointed with your life, but bringing that into nature and exploiting these beautiful beasts and then ultimately turning them into a monster who brought about your demise - not cool.
Why do humans insist on doing this? You're in the desert, rattlesnakes live there, you get bit by one, no one is around, you die. Period. Desert, wilderness, cool mountains, it really doesn't matter. We are the inferior species. We think we can rely on our cell phones, our medical and technological advances, our "intellect." We can't. We will lose in the end.
Perhaps I'm excessively heartless these days. Maybe. But I'll happily stay in my technologically-savvy world, you stay in your natural habitat, and if the twain shall meet you get priority. All will be fine, I will deserve any fate you bring my way.
Except for ants. I fucking hate ants. Stay out of my apartment, you goddamn fucking ants.
Simon is being nice to the people who suck. The peppy blond just made a joke about having the right shoes if nothing else. Ace is singing one of my favorite songs ever (others include this, and this, and this... hmm, maybe I will do one of these).
I have officially lost all respect for reality television. Excuse me - quote, reality television, unquote.
I only watch for Chris and Elliott anyway. Because they're hot.
I wish they would make a show about people who actually write their own songs. There's a novel concept.
Actually, I just wish I was in the mood for either of the movies I got in the mail today.
Actually, maybe I should just go to bed.
I have been obsessing for the past week over the fact that I misplaced Crazy Cat Lady Neighbor's spare keys that I use when I catsit for her. I mean, obsessing. (I'm pretty sure I threw the keys away with the trash the last time I fed the "kids" - I'd only gotten 2 hours of sleep the night before so anything is possible.)
See, she's kind of, um, particular, shall we say. A few months ago I took her dry laundry out of the dryer (all blankets) and folded it neatly and left it on the top of the dryer while I dried my clothes. Apparently the blankets fell off the dryer after it ran for a while, and she didn't know it was me who put them there, so she left a slightly catty note saying "if you must remove clothes kindly make sure my clothes don't fall on the floor" or some shit. WTFE, lady. I considered leaving a note back saying "I folded your damn clothes, kindly get your shit out on time, or leave a basket for your shit, as the sign suggests, so that this isn't an issue going forward." But of course I let it go.
Anywho. Last week she left me a note asking if I could feed the "kids" this weekend, and I was just imagining the conversation that would ensue. "How do you lose spare keys? Why did you wait so long to tell me? You're paying for a new lock."
She came by tonight to drop off another set. She was very nice. It's all fine. In general, she is very nice. She's had me over for male-bashing dinners and we've had tons of hallway conversations and the like. I don't know why I projected this insane reaction to my minor mistake.
I really don't.
Who on earth would react like I imagined she would?
The only thing I can think is that I'm feeling particularly insecure in my new "assignment" at work, and that's translating to other areas of my life. It doesn't help that I haven't heard a word about the eight applications I put out two weeks ago. It doesn't help that I have to sit in all-day meetings once a week feeling insecure the entire time. It doesn't help that I couldn't care less about failing in this "assignment" - you would think it would.
I wish I could end on a funny note. But I can't right now... so leave a punchline, will ya? :)
You would think that since I am obsessed with music, I'd offer more commentary on recent spins. I still don't go to enough shows and I still don't seek out the indie stuff often enough, but yesterday on one of the crappy local morning radio shows they were talking incessantly about Wolf Parade. And how awesome this band is, except that one of the DJs didn't think so, but apparently he was a moron, and Wolf Parade was the NEXT. BIG. THING.
So I did a little research and actually learned that their album was on a DVD of about a thousand indie bands a friend recently burned for me. All 100% legally burned of course - I sent all the bands royalty checks and everything. Um, yeah.
I'm still weeding my way through the DVD alphabetically and Wolf Parade starts with W, which is why I hadn't realized I have this album already. So I listened to it just now.
I don't know about Wolf Parade being the NEXT. BIG. THING. They're either a bit dated, or they sound sorta like Modest Mouse. I think I prefer Modest Mouse, personally.
I do concur that this particular DJ is a moron though. Just on general principal.
And speaking of moronic morning DJs, it seems that two of them on another moronic station are now properly engaged. Not to each other - that would actually just be funny - but to members of the opposite sex who do not work for the radio station. So apparently the morons are preparing to breed. Oh, the humanity.
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I suppose I should be cautious, since someone recently emailed the latter morons with a link to a blog critiquing their show, and they read lots of her posts aloud in a mocking tone. But really, I just don't care. If you have to read my blog on the air to fill the time, you've got bigger problems than my critique.
Oh and also, it drives me nuts when people bitch about radio station DJs but continue to listen to them just to complain about them ongoing. I should caveat this to say that I only listen to the morons when I'm in my car driving to/fro the gym in the wee hours, because it's easy to punch a button during commercial breaks. Otherwise it's all KFOG all the time in the mornings for me. Their musical selections aren't always great but they do at least have brains.
My work laptop has been sitting in its case, in the same spot on the floor, since the evening of 3/29. Tonight I picked the case up to put it near the door so I wouldn't forget it tomorrow morning, which I would totally do (and have done before). There were indentations in the carpet from where the case had been sitting.
Thus ends watching Molto Mario and Ellen/Oprah every day. Thus ends not knowing what day it is. Thus ends having viable brainpower to expend upon my unpaid job when normally I am all tapped out and fairly useless. Thus ends going ot the gym at 10am when it's completely empty.
During my two week stint of personal time off, I resisted the urge to check work email even though it would have been so easy to do so. I applied for at least 8 positions, 3 of which I would really love to have. I tried to spend as little money as possible. I saw no movies in the theater (none worth seeing, really). I kept up with my exercise regime. And I had a really good time seeing really cool sights with my brother, e.g.:
If I didn't have to sit in an all-day meeting tomorrow, I'd probably be okay with going back to work.
Oh, who am I kidding - I am never going to be okay with going back to work.
Is it wrong that I insist on reminding my building manager about an annoying but tolerable noise, just because I want to remind him that I live here, oh and also I live here alone? I know that he recently broke up with his live-in girlfriend who recently moved out and he's just so nice and cute and sorta my age. And he likes cats. And music. And carpentry.
I think it's time to go back to match.com.
This is just disgusting. Not only could they have done something much more meaningful with the money they spent creating this stupid thing... They've ensured that any alien beings who contact us will be akin to fraternity brats or horny old men. Note to Maxim: don't you think we have ENOUGH of those roaming our streets already? Do we really need to lure them in from outer space??
Oh and also. I don't care if it's true or not. The mere idea of it has made me officially lose all recently-gained respect for Gavin Newsom.
And finally. Wouldn't it just be oh so utterly creepy if the next big one hit on the 100 year anniversary of the first big one? I really can't stop thinking about it.
After reading an email with a laundry list of their recently-diagnosed health issues, I called my parents in a worried state to see how they were doing. I first talked to my mom, who laughed about all her health woes and talked excitedly about her upcoming trip to the beach, updated me on the extended family's cancer episodes and heart attacks, and handed me over to Dad. Who joked about his hearing aid (dear blessed lord THANK YOU he finally got a fucking hearing aid) and then handed the phone back to Mom.
They've really come a long way, from obsessing over their health issues (back when they were still smoking 900 packs a day even after having heart attacks and cancer and other terrible ailments) to now writing them off to old age and past poisons, and just enjoying life while they have it. They're still mentally so young, but their bodies are not, and I am acutely aware of that.
So much so, that I think one of these days when Mom asks when I'm moving back east, I'll actually have an ETA.
But it certainly won't be before July - not till I finish this freakin' marathon.
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I think that Six Feet Under really brings out this need to be closer to home. (I watched 4 episodes today.)
I hate it when you go to Costco with $6.50 in coupons for things you actually need, and then you forget to use them. My whole Costco trip today was premised on the fact that I had these coupons. I put them in my bag, referred to them while shopping to make sure I got the right brand/size/etc., bought a bunch of other crap I didn't really need, and then forgot to hand the coupons over at the register.
When I got to my car I noticed my oversight and seriously contemplated going back in to see what kind of hassle I had to go through to get my $6.50 back - would they just reimburse me, or would I have to return the items (two of which were large and heavy, as Costco items are wont to be) and then go back through the line...?
For $6.50 I considered it a lesson learned... one that I have repeated in the past and will probably repeat many, many more times in my lifetime. Does that make it a "lesson acknowledged" instead?
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Today's subject brought to you by Woody Harrelson.
OK, I am also probably the only person I know who saw the Beastie Boys' creative... um... endeavor. I was curious because it was the same tour I saw a few years ago, and I wanted to see how the NYC show differed from the SF show.
Not much, turns out. It was still worth my $7.50 though. The concept was definitely there - give 50 people in a stadium concert their own handheld videocamera that they use to tape the show, or the crowd, or the bathroom, or whatever, and then piece it all together... Play some good songs, and have some paid camera operators to supplement the amateur videos... It was very much akin to actually being there - except a little bumpier and with a lot of deja vu replays.
But being able to say, on any given Thursday afternoon, "yeah, I went to the gym, and then I went to Jupiter and had a beer, then I caught a movie" is the COOLEST THING EVER. This "work" thing is for the birds.
Oh and also, I'm probably the only person I know who will love Adam Horovitz till death do us part. It's a growing-up-in-the-80s-on-the-east-coast thing. You wouldn't understand.
Not to generalize, heaven forbid, but REALLY. When is somebody going to give all the bored midwestern kids something to do with their time, so that they don't get hooked on smack and go off beating up their siblings and/or killing themselves or other people or family pets? When is someone going to whack all the midwestern parents upside their idiotic heads?
Otherwise, Dandelion was a nice little sleeper. I believed the characters, all of them. Look for an intriguing performance from Mare Winningham.
