Schadenfreude

Dear Readers,

You might recall sometime back a little posting I did about our psychotic neighbor who thought the best way to communicate with a 19 year old was to call him "Bam-Bam" and repeatedly yell "Fuck You!" The classiness of these people just boggles the mind and is made all the more entertaining by their pretensions. Anyway, they're at it again. They left this little love note on the door (the door is the entrance to a converted garage apartment off R!'s and my abode).

Couple thoughts: The fact that the 19 year old and his friends are currently practicing their guitars at a high volume (one can only assume the volume is slightly higher than it might have been before he arrived home and found the note) warms the cockles of my heart. Was the radio loud this morning? Yes. Was it really so loud as to warrant that note? No. On other topics, these people (the classy neighbors) are starting the new year with a lot of venom in their hearts. Small though their hearts may be, that just doesn't seem like a lot of fun to me. When push comes to shove, however, I could really care less. In fact, they've proved themselves to be such genuine ass hats in the comparatively small time that I've been here, I now take a devilish delight in anything that might remotely annoy them. So yes, I'm experiencing schadenfreude right now.

Happy New Year to all.

warning: water closet etiquette

Water closet etiquette. Where does one begin? First of all, automatic flushers can be quite a good thing, but more often then not they're just annoying. Perhaps I digress. So, first of all, wash your hands people. Err, uh, yeah. So, automatic flushers.... I've come to despise the automatic flushers. I'd much prefer some apparatus that could be triggered by one's foot. The automatic flusher plays tricks on you. I'm not entirely convinced there isn't a troll at some central viewing location that jokingly flushes the toilet at inopportune moments. Unsuspecting, the toilet user places the paper protective bit on the toilet seat with nary a button unbuttoned, only to have the damn ring flush away at the behest of the illogical automatic flusher. Even worse than the protective paper flush-down is the multiple flush that is totally and completely disconnected to bathroom reality.... ie: you're peeing when the automatic flusher troll unleashes his tricks. I don't care if you're a hoverer or you use the paper toilet seat covers, that's just annoying, not to mention a bit disconcerting. I don't even want want to delve into the realm of urinals. With that, I've officially said/thought too much on bathroom topics for one morning.

Danger Mouse and other doings

1. Danger Mouse was a fantastic cartoon, one of my favorites. He (DM) wore an eye patch, drove a snappy car, and spoke with a British accent. Long live the Queen!
2. Yesterday I witnessed a high speed chase at a low speed. The speed of the vehicles, at least where I witnessed it, was determined by the the 2 turnabouts the speeding car and chasing cop had to slow down to go through.
3. Mission Hug Attaaaaack: complete. Chris and Becky appeared in fine form. The visit was too short, but you take what you can get. They're now in transit back down to the land of vampires in SC.

fixed point on the horizon

Those monkey bars you thought were so tall really aren't.... though its a matter of perspective. While home we took the pooch on a walk and ended up at our old elementary school. Everything appeared tiny. This is not to be confused with my affinity for things in miniature, this is quite different. The small size of the swings, monkey bars, slides, and tire swings really provided a sneaky sense of perspective. One of life's more gentle little reminders, if you will. Perhaps the fact that over the last month or so the not-so-gentle version of life's little reminders has ruled the roost. Thus I was blown over by the disconnect between my memory of those playground toys and their actual size. I don't want to wax nostalgic about my days as a rambunctious wee one, but I do find the distance covered (in a manner of speaking) quite interesting. Most of life's reminders that we take note of, to my way of thinking, occur when there are larger things at play. Someone's life, usually in the literal sense, as an example. Those tiny toys set themselves up as the fixed point on the horizon, a tool to measure distance and direction. I know there are others out there, I just haven't noticed 'em lately.

Perhaps as an entertaining side trip into things in miniature... this walk through my elementary school yard and the size of the toys got me thinking about elementary schools in general. Though the water fountains, sinks, and toilets are essentially the same size, they are situated in such a way that makes it easy for little kids to use them. Meaning, they're quite low to the ground. You feel like a giant when you walk into a bathroom at an elementary school. Don't deny it people. You're entertained by that as well.

howdy y'all!

Well, well, well.... I braved the pass back home, just completed my spot check, and am pleased to report I made it in one piece with presents and good wishes in tow. There were a few shaky points on the pass, but the Honda performed like the well seasoned champ-ene it is.

Brief thoughts:
1. Any time with a best friend is always better than none. I realize that statement is very much on the, "yeah, duh... idiot", end of the spectrum of statements, but hear me out. Though you survive on sporadic phone calls and email, the visits are where its at. You're not always cognizant of what's lacking when you go about your little life. .. then you see your friend, have a HUGATTAAAACK, wear goofy hats, and have fun.
2. Make sure you know how to put your snow chains on.
3. Sometimes it feels really good to look someone directly in the eyes and evenly say, "Shut the hell up" and mean it.

Balls!

Satus Pass
http://wsdot.wa.gov/traffic/passes/satus/
The lastest pass reports for Satus Pass
Satus Pass - 12/23/2006 7:27:28 AM
http://wsdot.wa.gov/traffic/passes/satus/
Satus Pass US97
12/23/2006 7:27:28 AM
Temperature: 33
Restrictions Eastbound:
Chains required on all vehicles except all wheel drive, Oversize Vehicles Prohibited.
Restrictions Westbound:
Chains required on all vehicles except all wheel drive, Oversize Vehicles Prohibited.
Conditions:
Snow and ice on the roadway
Weather:
Snow / Rain mix

12/23/2006 7:27:28 AM

Huzzah! - not just for King Henry VIII anymore

Everybody needs a little Huzzah! in their life. I haven't yet decided whether 'tis better to be on the receiving end of these Huzzah!s or the giving. Not to discount the Huzzah shout-outs in my direction, but I'm finding great comfort and joy in the giving. I don't know if this is akin to the joy of giving unexpected presents (a wonderfully selfish thing to take delight in). Methinks it is different. Huzzah!s come from someplace other than gifts. Huzzah!s are for a job well done. Huzzah!s are for joy, for comfort given, for serendipitous encounters, for finding a quarter in the slot of the phone booth of life. So, my queue of Huzzah!s for the week:

• Ana: a great big, enormous, Huzzah! attached to a HUG ATTTAAAACK! for wonderfully satisfying and meaningful visit. Thank you.
• Google Search Algorithms: you work even when I don't.
• Ella D.: for the walk.
• R!: Because.
• Winter Solstice: go 'head an' rock your ice. Sunshine on the move.
• Russian Space Monkeys: a much needed laugh.
• C-Lo: ironically, my sanity reminder.
  

Proof Positive

Pure Nerd 86 % Nerd, 34% Geek, 21% Dork For The Record: A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia. A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one. A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions. You scored better than half in Nerd, earning you the title of: Pure Nerd. The times, they are a-changing. It used to be that being exceptionallysmart led to being unpopular, which would ultimately lead to picking up all of the traits and tendences associated with the "dork." No-longer. Being smart isn't as socially crippling as it once was, and even more so as you get older: eventually being a Pure Nerd will likely be replaced with the following label: Purely Successful. Congratulations! Also, you might want to check out some of my other tests if you're interested in any of the following: Buffy the Vampire Slayer Professional Wrestling Love & Sexuality America/Politics Thanks Again! -- THE NERD? GEEK? OR DORK? TEST

Sopes con Huevos

So, as you can imagine, I didn't turn into a sprite yesterday and run off into the forest. And really, is this shocking to anyone? When the only time you have to practice your stylie dance moves is in your kitchen you can go far, but just not far enough. I've decided I need a warehouse to cut loose like Kevin Bacon in Footloose. Get myself a VW Beetle, a 6-pack (of which one bottle would be angrily thrown off into the distance), blast the music, hit dashboard a few times and then dance. DANCE!

I had to console my lack of Cube dancing self with new cooking. I stretched my culinary boundaries last night and made Sopes con Huevos. Fernando, your mama would have been proud of my first attempt. Mmmm, the hot tasty sopes, black beans, chorizo, all topped with an egg. Delightful.



"We can dance if we want to
We can leave your friends behind
'Cause your friends don't dance and if they don't dance
Well they're no friend of mine."

From the Precipice

1. C.'s two cents on the PoMo inspired post: "just because there's no there there, doesn't make there any less real! or something. ack, i've been drinking for too many days straight." Welcome, my friend, to the circle.
2. Invariably, shopping for any quality food or wine leaves one with a yuppie taint. This yuppie taint is compounded exponentially by yuppie grocery stores and/or bodegas. You must accept this taint and move on, or else you're eating Velveeta and beanless chili out of a miniature crock pot.... wait a minute, that sounds familiar.....
3. The representative of Kungfuramone and Another Kind of Nerd have agreed in principle on appropriate time and place for a HUG ATTTTAAAAAAACK!!!!!
4. Today I shall approach the limits of Cube dancing. If you hear nothing from me tomorrow it is because my moves were so stylie, incorporation of the office chair and laptop bag notwithstanding, I had nothing left to achieve in this world and have taken up residence in the woods as a sprite. A rather large sprite, but whatev.

Part of the reason why...

... I had a 4:15 am bedtime last night... I mean this morning.

I had a never ending conversation with Rick about the limitations of post-structuralism and/or post-modernism. I couldn't convince him that you can take the lessons of it and move the fuck on. Really, there can be no ultimate answer, no "truth" as everthing we use to communicate those "truths" is based on language that is inherantly unstable and meaningless... that's just brilliant. I'm going to pack up my tent and go home now. On language and "knowables" within a culture.... R!: "So ultimately, its a matter of faith." Me: "No, it's a matter of acculturation and acculturation is not faith." My point that you must tie things to particular places and time did nothing to sway him. Balls! I hate arguing about the same thing and reaching similar conclusions but using different language (oh! the IRONY!). R!: "You got me drunk to talk about philosophy." Me: "I would never get anybody drunk to talk about philosophy. Oh, and by the by, you're just using language to blame shit on me."

two stories, an experiment

Cheese. Nothing but cheesiness.

Story #1
Some people think I'm crazy, but try to understand I get satisfaction out of everything I can. So Please forgive me if I act a little strange. Because Inside my head there lives a dream that I want to see in the sun... This is how it works: it feels a little worse then when we drove our hearse right through that screaming crowd.....

Story #2
Hey, shut up, don't lie to me.... Worms don't dance....
Forget about it, I'm admittin' I was wrong.


Thank you for giving me just enough rope to hang myself with. I was listening to music, drinking my amazingly strong and delicious coffee while pondering the opening lines of songs... Any good song generally has an interesting opening line, in some capacity, much like a good book. I went a little further than the true first line for some bits (*cough*... artistic license) and added a few connectors. Yeah... In case you're wondering, the first line donations came from the Dixie Chicks, David Gray, India Arie, Regina Spektor, Bonnie Raitt, Beth Orton, and finally Allison Krauss and Union Station.

the storm

Don't worry, my friends outside of the Pacific Northwest. All, err, 5 of you who actually read my blog. We're still here and at this particular moment the sky is blue (by and large). Fitting, methinks, after all the madness of wind and branches. But then again, I'm an optimist.

Mutts, presented in the manner of Ana

finally, a good concert

I went to the most entertaining concert last night. The group was fantastic. Listening to them you feel as if you're on a tour of Hollywood movie set. Their music takes you from watching the filming of a Jewish wedding to the next set over where they're filming a spaghetti western. Seriously, I don't know how they do it but they move from an eastern European sound to Spanish inspired. How could things go wrong when one considers the list of instruments?: accordion, violin, upright base, trumpet, tuba (TUBA strung with lights all around the inside!), various guitars, and drums.
The tuba really made me consider some things.... It's damn near impossible to look anything but entertainingly ridiculous while playing the tuba and simultaneously trying to dance. Methinks dancing is not so easy for a small to middling-sized gal playing a ginormous tuba. That's not even considering the lung capacity necessary for such an instrument. So, her movements on stage were confined to an Umpa-Lumpa-esque bouncing from the knees. Sometimes she mixed things up and tossed in a little side to side turning (from the waste) action. But when I considered, really considered, the plight of dancing on stage with a tuba I came to the conclusion that she did just as well as many of the people dancing in the audience. I never knew hippies could vary their dancing with such enthusiasm. There was the hippy shake, the hippy bounce, the hippy shimmy (as if at a Dead show), and (perhaps new to the world) the Hippy rave. The Hippy rave was performed by a guy clearly caught between two worlds. He had all the critical hippy elements, at least all the surface hippy elements. And yet... the guy needed to be holding those little neon lights while he swirled his hands about.

Goodbye, BB.

Last night our home acted as a funeral home/cemetery. Beatrix Bill, beloved (yet sexually unidentifiable) snail of Kristi and Preston was laid to rest in the back yard. It was a simple service attended by close friends only, as Beatrix Bill would have wanted. Unfortunately, the original request for burial at sea proved impossible for the family.Beatrix Bill, BB to his/her friends, was a homebody who loved comforts of his/her tank but was just as comfortable busting out of his/her shell. Known to Moonwalk on command after a few drinks, BB also loved filling in the New York Times crossword in ink (stubborn to the end) and the cartoon Mutts (it was the cute and zany antics of Earl the dog and Mooch the lisping cat). BB left a void in the tank that will not easily be filled.
The family wishes to acknowledge the love and support so generously bestowed by friends and family, even strangers, in this great time of trial. Instead of flowers, the family requests donations be made in BB's name to your local wetland.

nuts and bolts from the edge

Now is the time for another random doings post. Take it or leave it. Or add to it for that matter.

1. Last night a show on the animals of Madagascar was on PBS. As I was reading one of my little books at the time (holy crap, can watching PBS while reading get any nerdier) I was only able to catch snippets of the narrator and the animals. I looked up just as Lemurs entered the stage, fastidiously patrolling their territory. Oh No! There were outsiders about! The two groups of Lemurs then did their little intimidation, "best get the hell out of my territory" shuffle. All I could think of when I saw this was West Side Story, because there was a lot of bouncing and prancing.... "When you're a jet, you're a jet all the way/ From your first cigarette to your last dyin' day."

2. Any trip to the store is infinitely more entertaining after 10:00pm:

• you almost jump up and down when you spy some newfangled Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream Cones.... that's right, people, CONES! Cherry Garcia in drumstick form. Fantastic.
• you put said Ben & Jerry's cone back because you realize all you really want is chocolate milk.... mmmm, real chocolate milk out of a glass quart bottle... also excellent in coffee as it's made with whole milk.
• you gauge your mood over the next week by the variety of coffee you decide to buy
• The check-out guy enters your items, totals them, and hands over the little debit keypad all to the beat of the hippy music in the store.
• The check-out guy confirms that context is the best determinant of the acceptability of public sweatpants wearing.

3. The easiest way to avoid eating cloves in a soup is to count them as they go in, then count them as you take them out. This process is made trickier by the variety of soup. And should you bite into some clove, I'm sorry, there's nothing you can do. Just move on. I speak from experience.

hugs

I've recently (as in, this morning) come to the conclusion that I'm a hugger. Kungfuramone, you can stop laughing now. Seriously, I'm a hugger. I've resisted this compulsion for reasons I haven't quite figured out. Give me time, people. You can't delve into the depths of my psyche in a half hour. Maybe you can because apparently I'm pretty transparent, but I can still do one hell of a job fooling myself. Anyway, I've pretty much always enjoyed hugging huggers. You know who you are. Those special individuals who have some magical power to elicit hugs from other people, especially those who don't want it. Maybe this is why I always enjoyed their hugs... my inner hugging self just dying to get out. So that's the easy part, hugging huggers. Now here's the difficult part... Even though Luke could perform amazing acts in the first Star Wars movie, he still wasn't prepared to use the Force. He had to be trained. That, I believe, is where it stands for me. Now I must train my hugging ways. I recently had the opportunity to hug someone who needed it. Probably didn't want it, but needed it all the same. I caved. Couldn't do it. I don't have the hugger's fortitude just yet... the "damn the consequences" hugging attitude. In conclusion, I've officially added hugging to the list projects. Be careful when you see me, people. The time for making hugging excuses is over.

Hugger, you are.

Perhaps this could be considered mean, but....

... I can't resist. R! and I perused Craigslist last night with reckless abandon. It was a mostly horrifying project, though there were some real gems in there. Anyway, we took a gander at my hometown, the Crack (in oh so many senses), and just about died laughing. I know its mean. Really, its the equivalent of stopping on the street and pointing at someone while laughing and then stopping other people to tell them to look as well... that is, if you can tell them through your laugh induced tears. But sometimes people do the most ridiculous things. I have no problem with people trying to connect with other people on the internet. Go crazy. But people, be smart about it! And if you're not smart, well.... I don't know what to say.

Why I didn't go back to the Crack: Reason 39270-A279, provided by Craigslist.

Posted November 25th
Still looking - m4w - 49
Still looking - m4w - 49 Hello, I'm just looking for some fun and some one to hang out with.


Posted December 4th
What the hell ------? - m4w - 49
What the hell ------? - m4w - 49So what the heck IS wrong with the people in ------? No ladies in this town want to hook up? I've posted 2 ads and no replies from ------. Send me a message ladies and lets start having some FUN!

Paperwhites

Hibernation courtesy of the Black Cat Commune

If all y'all don't hear from me for awhile, I found a cave and settled in for a good, long sleep. Don't worry, I'll emerge in the Spring again as is Nature's rule....

Last night the BCC prepared a spread unmatched in realm of birthdays, at least mine. Thank you. Some of the food, in list form.

• Cheeses: Humboldt Fog & Brie (served at perfect room temperature gooeyness), cranberry stilton, havarti with dill, blue cheese with pear, and fresh feta
• Cheese accouterments: quince, grapes, pears
• dry salami - all this in a house occupied by a vegan and two vegetarians!
• homemade macaroni and cheese
• homemade lasagna- one version with cheese, one without
• homemade kase spatzle- a big shout out to my homie Nina who channels her family back in Germany every time she makes this... I should give a shout out to her mom as well for providing the recipe last year. I too shall soon harness the power of kase spatzle!
  
• Greek Salad - I had some, it was good, but really I felt guilty for eating nothing but cheese and meat all day (the potluck at lunch in the Cave witnessed two (TWO!) homemade cheese balls)

A special thanks to R! for providing the jello shots and an extra special Happy Birthday to Morgan (p.s. we don't need our birthday as an excuse to drink your rose champagne).

Huzzah for Birthdays!

All right people, pay attention, this is a big step for me. Today is my birthday. I know, I know... I had the birthday post this weekend so its not a big surprise to people (thanks for the birthday withes A. and V.) Prior to the last two years, however, I really never told anyone. Don't know why (It's my birthday, not yours). And now I'm moving in the complete opposite direction and instituting Birthday Week. It started last Saturday and will go until Thursday at the very least. While I had contemplated putting some ethereal sunrise picture up on my blog (cause, you know, I bring light to the world and stuff... errr, ah, yeah), I'll spare people the Google results for an image search of "ethereal".

Reason #36254-23 of why I have the coolest sister: Though she already contributed to a present for me, she's sending me another one for "a sense of occasion."

So Huzzah for Birthdays! Go Team!

entertaining tidbits...

1. A statement from R! earlier this evening: "It was like eating meat but tasting cheese. I'm just not into that."

2. Ella the Dog will not hunt grouse. Ella the Dog will hunt flies. Tonight she performed a feat that Mr. Miyagi would have been proud of.... she locked on to a fly, patiently waited for her opportunity, and destroyed the little bastard. It was an impressive and entertaining sight to behold.

3. Tonight R! will make Evil Jello for consumption tomorrow night. That's right people, the jello shot. I'm not entirely sure how this monstrosity got on the list of approved things for my birthday, but there you have it. All I have to say is that no one is playing Suck and Blow. No one.
An explanation... ahem: "Why is it so much fun? Well, Suck and Blow is a gelatin shooter encased in a patented plastic tube and in order to enjoy this flirtatious shot, you’ll need a partner. That’s right, it takes two to tango with this tasty treat. One person to 'Suck' and another to 'Blow. It is the interaction of two people that make it so popular."
How can anyone resist the "gelatin shooter encased in a patented plastic tube" is beyond me. I mean really. And I'm also quite glad their text is so informative because I don't think I would have understood that it was "the interaction of two people that make it so popular." Whoever came up with this invention and decided it would be a good thing to market to the masses is, in fact, an ass hat. But you never know, he or she could now be a rich ass hat.

By all accounts....

... a successful birthday outing. In list form:

• wine
• good food
• good friends
  
• discussion aplenty: deconstructing catesianism, artificially distressed wood, Jane Austen, Pinky and the Brain, 8-point Bucks, fish empathy or lack thereof, french versus american oak.... etc, etc, etc.
• The Game of Life
• vodka

Well done, players.

Narf!

I've got an In to take over the world and I didn't even know it. According to Pinky and the Brain, all I need to take over the world is a standard office microwave and powdered non-dairy creamer. I've got both of those things in spades at work. Of course, I don't work at a re-insurance company, critical to the Pinky and the Brain plan, but there's only so much I can do.
Perhaps my favorite Pinky and the Brain plan to take over the world involved Brain as a Country and Western singer named Bubba Beau Bob Brain. He hypnotized audiences with his singing prowess (imagine Brain's little mouse head on top of a normal man sized robot dressed in a pearl snap button shirt with an acoustic guitar). The plan was absolutely brilliant. In fact, I'm not convinced that Toby Keith isn't part of Brain's ultimate plan to take over. Because really, if he wasn't hypnotizing people to listen to his music would anyone actually give it the time of day? Perhaps Toby was a Pinky and the Brain fan. Maybe he's not as dumb as he appears....

Hey Brain, what are we going to do tonight?

Italian Anime Cat and Flare

A toast.....

.... to the cocktail hour. I must admit, I've had the biggest urge lately to dress up in circa 1956 clothing and offer people drinks on trays. I'm imagining some nice, flowing yet slightly clingy silk or chiffon, perhaps the incorporation of ribbon in the hair or decorative feathers. Then, once everyone was liquored up, I'd change into a slimming suit with pencil skirt because I had to go to work... as a spy.

As I don't own a silk, chiffon, or taffeta party dress I've had to settle for my normal clothes during the cocktail hour lately. And, I'm not really the one making and serving the drinks either. I don't even have a tray to serve such things. No matter. R! serves up a mean vodka & tonic if you ask nicely.

It certainly looks like snow....

Well, well, well, it appears as if Mother Nature is bustin' out the big guns before December even arrives! Madness! Eugene Madness!

Happy First Snow Day!

More Stuffing

Last night R! and I had the privilege of being included in a family-of-choice Black Cat Commune Thanksgiving dinner. The entire evening was delightful, and I must admit, tofurky is much better than I expected. Of course, that's probably more a comment on where my expectations for such things lie rather than any inherent tofurky goodness. EM did a great job with the food. Yes, vegetarians/vegans do tend to focus on the sides and all the better for it. The bounty was plentiful. I can now add... I'm over Thanksgiving dinner. I think I've even consumed far more stuffing than is healthy or rational for one individual. The horror.

uhh.... okay.

Direct from one of KFR's links, the entertaining KungFuKitten. I have no idea how to interpret this particular result. Whatev.

You are The Star

Hope, expectation, Bright promises.

The Star is one of the great cards of faith, dreams realised

The Star is a card that looks to the future. It does not predict any immediate or powerful change, but it does predict hope and healing. This card suggests clarity of vision, spiritual insight. And, most importantly, that unexpected help will be coming, with water to quench your thirst, with a guiding light to the future. They might say you're a dreamer, but you're not the only one.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

mmmmm.

Today, R! made the mistake of calling me a "stuffing connoisseur."

"No, no, my friend," I corrected him.

"I am a stuffing tramp."


Oh, by the by, deep-fried turkey is as good as they say.

Because it warrents a reminder...

Happy Thanksgiving!

$2 of fun

Holy crap, the Christmas elves have emerged before Thanksgiving and my own festivities. What cruel marketing world is this?

Update

I'm pleased to report that Crispin Glover tormented somebody else last night.

The picture of Bosco and I helped.

More than just George McFly

I had the worst dream last night... I was chased forever by Crispin Glover.

*Crispin Freakin' Glover*

Thank goodness and all that is holy in this world a torrential downpour began sometime around 5:00am and woke me up.


I have to post a picture of my god-dogger Bosco to feel better about going to sleep.

wouldn't you like to get away.....

Once again, Cliff emerges. That's right people. Cliff Clavin, your friend and mine. I don't know if this is a character flaw or not, but every now and again I channel Cliff. This phenomena occurs regularly enough that my assistant coach in college decided my name was entirely "too nice" for the likes of me and moved on to what she saw as more befitting nicknames. Delicacy dictates that I don't disclose most of these names (read: don't want to give anybody ideas). Cliff is among those I choose to share. So, why bring up Cliff?

Standing in our kitchen this evening, enjoying some tasty-tasty cheese and wine, I explained my love of the term "Viscosity" to R!. Not only do I enjoy the meaning of viscosity and all the different ways you could use the term, I really just like the way if feels in the mouth. Viscous. This is in complete opposition to the way the word "fruit" fits in the mouth. Go ahead... say it out loud, nobody will look, I promise... fruit. Fruit.

I don't know where these things come from people, don't ask me to explain the ramblings of my mind. But there must be other words out there that people object to. In conversations about this very same topic the word "moist" has also popped up. I know I'm not alone in my weirdness, I'm just dumb enough to admit it.

Question

Is calling a 19 year-old (who doesn't necessarily respond well to artificial authority figures) "Bam-Bam" an appropriate way to get said high-spirited 19 year-old to turn down his amp?

Secondary Question: Is repeatedly yelling "Fuck You!" a good follow-up to Bam-Bam?

Wow. We have jackasses for neighbors.

to my history cohort:

I'm sorry. I can no longer go on like this. The guilt is too much.... I don't know how to say it, so I guess I'll just have to just put it out there.

Last night I fed other people my chili. Please, don't walk away. Don't leave angry. Let me explain.....

There was potluck pressure. And I'm ashamed to say the chili came before vast quantities of wine. It wasn't the same, I promise. They actually talked while eating the food. There wasn't the silence of soon-to-be sated bellies. I can read the signs. I know it meant nothing to them, with their high paying jobs that can buy all the fancy foods we could only ever dream of.

I'm weak. There were delicious meatballs and white bean soup. Did I mention the authentic, direct from Chicago pizza? I know, I know. I'm making excuses.

Is there hope? Can we work this out?

The Pizza

... a pilfered image.

The horror.....

There

is

no

COFFEE

in

this

house.

For all manner of entertainment....

.... gather your friends and make sure they're armed with their respective yearbooks.


Warning: May result in fits of laughter due to embarrasment over hair, fashion, prom dresses, ex-girlfiends, ex-boyfriends, numbers currently or formerly in jail, and/or just being a teenager.

What fresh hell is this?

Why, oh why, must I find relaxing a difficult thing to do sometimes? Honestly? Is it really so difficult? This is a particularly interesting problem to be confronted with as I've never considered myself an uptight person. On average, I'd say I'm more relaxed than your average bear. But then again, perhaps I've just pushed all Type A behavior out of my mind. No. I don't think that's it. I'm going to blame this one on graduate school. Free time became a guilt inducing phenomena, unless prescribed by social ritual... and even then it was touch and go. Really, at that point, cleaning/laundry/grocery shopping/household maintenance turn into modes of relaxation, if not avoidance. I'm still walking that line.

For Camille

Is this news to anyone?

Seriously, the word "duh" came to mind repeatedly while reading this.

a little taste of Santa Cruz

I'm back. The trip ended ealy for some good reasons. This is a good thing. I'm no longer in The Land of Strip Malls. I seriously considered doing a photo essay on the vagarities of strip malls and those who frequent them. But then again, it does seem as if strip malls beget strip malls... hmmm... Prudence won out. I'll have more to report later when I'm not, you know, going on less than 5 hours sleep (a small amount for me). But for now, beautiful people and beautiful sights.

Corporate Vision Quest

The impetus behind my week long trip to the Bay area was twofold.
Phase I: I was to meet with Big Company to further cement relations, integrate myself into Big doings, and attend a corporate party I really had no cause to be at, considering the fact it was for the completion of a huge year-long project and I've been working for, you know, three weeks. I had two guides on this particular portion of the trip and I successfully completed the tasks laid out for me. I totally have the t-shirt to prove it.
Phase II: This particular portion of the trip commences tomorrow, ends Thursday, and is really very simple in terms of goals. I'm supposed to go around with my boss, attend some meetings, and do some work myself. Really, the whole point of phase II is to meet the other people who work with and for my boss. Problem: My boss, in fact, did not come down. Thus I embark on Phase II without a guide.

I've figured it out. My boss was never really going to come down here. This trip is, in actuality, my Corporate Vision Quest equivalent. My right of passage, if you will. I've been cast out into the strip mall wilderness of Silicon Valley with no tools for survival, save the laptop and my wits. In order to successfully return home, I must fast and meditate until my Corporate Animal Spirit appears and directs me on my path. Methinks it's pretty safe to assume that my Corportae Animal Spirit won't be a bear. While we're at it, we could probably take wolves, tigers, birds of prey, as well as any large and/or intimidating animal off the list.

Okay, I made it through my first corporate riff-raff yesterday.... went to Big Meeting with Big Company, visited restroom with Japanese-style toilet (heated seats, etc.), navigated Bay Area traffic without getting hopelessly lost, went to party....

Better Part: Spending day in Santa Cruz with ultra-hip friends. Things seen: Monarch Butterflies, ultra-hip friends, otters, dolphins frolicking in the waves (one of them was basically surfing), and more ultra-hip friends. Word.

And so it begins....

.... I'm off to the land of corporate big-wigs sans chaperone or guide. I must navigate Bay area traffic, corporate offices, and middling class business hotels all while defending my soul from The Man.

Reports to follow.

As yesterday was a friend's birthday, special circumstances prevailed. I opened up the Dance Moves chest that sits patiently in the corner, collecting dust, moth balls, and dance moves best left in the late eighties and early nineties, or wherever else they came from. I think some of Bill Cosby's sweaters might be in there as well....

Shake your groove thing, in list form:

• the running man
• the roger rabbit
• unnamed New Kids on the Block move
• the shopping cart
• the chainsaw
• the lawn mower
• interpretive dance

At least there was no cabbage patch, tootsie roll, or macarena. Just so we're all clear, this picture is stolen from Yale's website.

Finding Golden Nuggets

Man, I miss the world where I get to use the term heteronormative (much to the amusement of some) , read books, discuss, and write. Now I must turn my attention to finding the golden nuggets of my new job. After all, you didn't see me list grading, dealing with professors who have piss poor interpersonal skills, or telling students "don't sass me" in the list of things I missed. Perhaps I should admit that I did, in fact, enjoy telling the student not to sass me... but I don't miss the need to tell them such things. Anyway, on to uncovering the golden nuggets of my new job.
1. I earned $20 while talking about wine with my boss.
2. I have a boss I can talk about wine with and the simple pleasure of Ruth's Chris Steakhouse.
3. So far they're sending me places where The Cool Kids are.

I'm okay with the list thus far.

Posts of Convenience

Over the last few weeks I've relied upon my camera to blog without actually having to blog. This is fine. I'm not (generally) of the long or contemplative blog world. Also fine. But perhaps I should explain the previous post's photo-journalesque nature. Yesterday R! and I went out grouse hunting. The purpose was twofold. Less interesting, I purchased this fantastic oilcloth vest (not to mention the blaze orange knit hat as I planned to go out at some point) and felt the need to immediately justify* the purchase by walking in the woods. Perhaps more interesting are individuals' thoughts on hunting in general. I feel compelled to at least venture out with hunters and bear witness to all that is involved. But my hunting friends are very much of the eat-what-you-kill area of the hunting spectrum. If you want an example of an opposite end to this spectrum, think of Dick Cheney and his ilk killing around 400 pheasant of about 500 released during one "hunting" expedition on a private "game reserve." The reason I feel compelled to go out and witness is because I'll hapilly eat meat that comes in little packages from the grocery store... totally disconnected from the (perhaps not so natural) process. In that vein, R! has taken a vow to eat meat only when he personally kills a grouse/fish/rabbit/etc. this November. We're now onto day 5 and yesterday he tragically cried out, "I want a hamburger!" Don't worry, he persevered... but that doesn't bode well. But this compulsion to accompany hunters has been bouncing around in my head for a good long while. Does my witnessing without actually participating really stray from my slightly hypocritical omnivoure status? Not really. Hell, I don't even want to clean fish. But because it is slightly hpyocritical, I feel better about myself anyway. Such is life and the workings of my brain.

*Just in case anyone (LaLa) was wondering, the vest proved a resounding success when paired with a wool sweater. Drops of rainwater that fell from disturbed branches beaded on the material and rolled away, leaving me warm and dry.

blaze orange

Everyone needs a blaze orange excursion from time to time.....













You see, even nature likes the color.













Along the ridge....













Wildlife...













At the end, along the MacK

the office

First, big thumbs-up to KFR. The musical package arrived today. I'm blogging to the sweet, sweet sound of your tunes. Yes, that's Brainy Smurf (thanks, C.) with a pair of Elvis shades in the background.














Second, I brought a camera to work today. It took all the ninja skills I could muster to get it past the rigorous secuity check points, etc. Yeah....














Here's the CUBE where I now spend my days.














Hold the phone! I can't believe that killed Mr. Eko on Lost. Rat Bastards!



















Does this count as a view? At least I don't have to stand up to see outside.

Living in the Dark; or Poor Halloween Form

I'm living in the dark this evening, at least until around 9:00 when all rational parents have their ghosts, goblins, fairies, and other such little beasties indoors. I feel bad about this. I do. Really, I love Halloween. But it is a contained love. My costume of the past 3-4 years has mainly been black nail polish (Incidentally, that is basically the only time/color I will wear said polish. Don't ask me to explain.*). I love it when people dress up in really clever outfits, I just chose not to. So, when the venerable All Hallows Eve arrives and the house is sans candy, you live in the dark. I know it is poor Halloween form, especially given the fact that for the first time in 7 years I'm not in a neighborhood that is either a) surrounded by drunken droves of college students roaming the streets in costume or b) surrounded by the extras of Deadwood and on the edge of Thunderdome. But I'm totally and completely unprepared. Such is life.

R!'s comment, conveyed in a sing-song voice: "Sittin' in the dark, hidin' from the children!"


*I just had a thought... perhaps the black nail polish is, in fact, a sign of mourning as Halloween marks the last day of October, the best month of the year.

Status Report:

Limbs: still intact
Sense of Humor: debatable
Brain: mush

That's right, people... Mush. It's a lovely feeling caught somewhere between hangover and, well, hangover. This sucks for a number of reasons. First and foremost, I don't, in fact, have a hangover. The last time I checked, I did not engage in any illicit behavior or binge drinking last night (I don't know about sleepwalking). In a similar vein, I don't have any of the associated entertaining/embarrasing stories to at least offset the feeling or push me to give up the sauce. Second, I had a big enough headache (read: migraine) on Saturday to reach my quota for awhile. It was brilliant. Middle of the day, shielding my eyes from the garish sun, saying random things to R! which I can't account for. Balls. Eventually you get as good as you're going to and start to move about your day in a relatively normal way, but that took a tad bit longer this time. Do I have a third point to make? I really dislike lists that only have two points, but I can't be bothered because my brain is MUSH.

vacuum fun

The bits and pieces.

I'll freely admit it it. I'm one of those people who enjoys things like vacuuming. I don't know why, its a little twisted. But what can I say? Instant gratification. Anyhoo, today I purchased my first vacuum. Heretofore my vacuums have been either hand-me-downs or a roommate's. Now I have my very own. I even had the pleasure of assembling said vacuum. What little assemblage there was... They still managed to issue a great CAUTION for those who undertake the burdensome task.

Taking it out for a test drive.

R! gets in on the action. There's just too much fun for one person.

Perhaps one of the best parts of the whole process occured while reading through the instructions and list of parts. Some genius decided to name one of the attachments a "Crevice Wand." A *Crevice Wand*?!!!!!! Seriously, crevice wand. How does that phrase even make it out of the development process? Or perhaps this is how vacuum cleaner engineers entertain themselves. "Hey Bob, did you see that 'crevice wand' made it through the approval process? We buried that one pretty good!" Maybe James Dyson wouldn't do anything so juvenile, but he does seem a bit stuffy in the commercials.