an Open Letter

An open letter to the photos from a disposable camera I used sporadically over a ridiculously long period of time

Dear Photos,

I was so happy when I finally finished your camera. I was so curious as to what you would reveal, having been in my possession for so long I couldn't even remember when you came into my life. I knew, of course, that a few of the photos would show my bandmates and me in a recording studio in various stages of diligence and sleep. I also suspected that there might be more than a few featuring my ugly-cute dogs, most likely in the napping state that is the only guarantee of non-blurry dog portraits.

Little did I expect that you would reveal photos of not just my most recent boyfriend, but the previous one as well. I do have some fond memories of both of these fellas, but it was quite shocking to witness the utter bliss written all over our faces. Having been the one to end up heartbroken in both of these relationships, I feel that it is utterly unfair of you to show me these images of happiness and harmony.

How is it that you do not have a failsafe - that photos over a certain age or containing such potentially disturbing images are not automatically wrecked, thus sparing the viewer? It saddens me to think that you couldn't have taken the minimal effort it might've taken to expose a little light to those negatives.

I suppose you'd say that I'll appreciate them later in life, when the heartbreak has faded completely and I'm happy to be reminded of the good times I had as a younger person. 'Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all' and all that. Well, I don't want to hear it. Go hide yourself in an envelope somewhere until you can come back with some perspective.

Sincerely,
Anne Heathen

fake news anchor fresh

Is there anyone funnier than this man?

update

Andy blogged about his take on the whole mixed-up logins things from yesterday. This kind of thing is just so typical. I'm glad that Andy, among others, will attest to my intelligence, because ditsy things like this happen more often than I'd like to admit, and I'm really not an idiot.

nice shooting

So for an hour or so this afternoon/evening my life turned into a wacky, madcap sitcom. My pal Andy and I were IMing and throwing personal ad links back and forth. I decided to send a message to a person who'd made contact with me through the personals site. I wrote a quick message, double-checked to see that everything looked good, and sent it. A moment later, Andy messaged me to tell me he had gotten a message from someone on the site, coincidentally named Anne. But no. Turns out, that message was a confirmation of the email I had sent, somehow logged in as him. I looked back, and sure enough, I was logged in as Andy! We both freaked out a little bit and then saw the utter hilarity in the situation. I dashed off an apology message, clarifying that I am indeed myself, not Andy. I can only wonder what the recipient of these messages is going to think.

I logged out and logged in as myself, and went to send a message to another person on my list of people who've expressed interest. I quadruple-checked the headers of this one to make sure it was coming from me, and everything was kosher, until the confirmation of message sent screen came up and Andy's screenname was there, indicating I was logged in as him. AGAIN! I couldn't believe it. I then cleared the cache and restarted the browser. I sent another apology/explanation email and just about died laughing that this could've happened twice in a row.

Needless to say, Andy and I have decided that we won't send links while we're logged in anymore. I guess this will be a good test of the recipients' sense of humor. Andy and I think that this may just be the newest trend in online dating - a wacky, sitcom-worthy mix-up to break the ice. Of course, the recipients of my messages may decide that I'm too ditsy to be worth their time. Hopefully not.

This all just seems to me like something that would have happened to Ross about halfway through the run of Friends.

you can't kill the rooster

I've been dying listening to David Sedaris Live at Carnegie Hall while working on the double-strand pixie hat. My eyes are tired from laughing so hard. I've got to re-listen to Naked one of these days. I didn't make too much progress on the hat - about eight rows - and I'm too lazy to take photos right now. It's one of those projects that doesn't look like what it is until you get all done, so I'm not sure how edifying any photos would be.

today

Ah, the Internet. So informative yet so creepy.

I recently posted an online personal ad. I've not had a ton of experience with them, but the experiences I've had have eventually led to heartbreak, so I've been a bit wary. I have no evidence that it's related, but the two people I met through personals online turned out to have a few psychological issues in common, none of which were good for me (or them). So I'm not too optimistic about the people I might meet. But, I was idly browsing recently and noticed an ad that I liked, so I thought - what the heck. The result of that is yet to be seen.

I have gotten a few responses from other people, though, one of which included a fairly detailed written message including an email address. The combination of my curiosity, affinity for research, and apprehension/mistrust led me to google the person's userid. I found out way more than I ever wanted to know about this person. I have never met this person; I spent about ten minutes looking at the first search result, and I now know the following about X:
--occupation
--educational history
--totally unconventional and fairly controversial religious beliefs
--a certain hobby that means that X is/was certainly a friend of my most recent ex
--X's apparently self-diagnosed psychological maladies
--several other details so personal I feel that I shouldn't mention them here

Sheesh.

this entry contains spoilers

Just returned from a matinee of The Day After Tomorrow. The verdict: four out of five stars. SPOILER WARNING: I'm going to talk about the movie here, so if you haven't seen it yet, don't read this yet.

If for nothing else, I'd recommend seeing it for the astoundingly cool visuals. I'm big on the visual - it's one of the ways I learn best (tied with kinesthetic, tho it could be argued that the visual is part of kinesthetic), and in general, the visual leaves a more significant impression with me than most other senses (it's either a tie with or close second to aural). I think that CGI is no less an art form than many of those more established forms, and this is a great example. Watching the destruction of infamous landmarks and icons - there's a genuine beauty in annihilation.

The end of the movie was slightly preachy, but since I'm effectively in the choir, I didn't mind. One could say that the underlying message is that industry will be our undoing, but that science (along with movie requisites love and persistence) will be our savior.

Funniest thing: the head-up-his-ass Vice President bears more than a passing resemblance to Dick Cheney.

There were, of course, some things that didn't work - the CG wolves were terrible (even their brief presence made little sense as anything other than a plot device), some of the characters repeatedly gave up at the slightest sign of failure and then regained their faith in the attempt with only a one-line reminder from their inspiring counterpart, the destruction shown focused almost entirely on NYC and LA despite supposedly taking place throughout the entire northern hemisphere (this, though, I think is fine - it's an American summer movie).

It was also really interesting to see them taking refuge in the NY Public Library. I wish they'd had more time for the discussions the characters had about authors, books, the written word, etc. But there was so much going on, I can see why they kept it to what they did. And the librarian wasn't even too stereotypical. She balked at burning books, but what self-respecting librarian wouldn't?

Two actor bonuses: Ian Holm, who brings truly good acting along with his credibility. Dash Mihok - mmm, that's good Benvolio!

I'll grow old, start acting my age

I'm officially able to listen to Brand New again. Woot for moving on, piece by tiny piece though it may be. I've been avoiding sad feelings by ignoring everything that prompts them, but if I'm going to live up to this whole being-okay-with-having-feelings thing, I'm going to have to actually do it. And I feel like it's time for that now.

I'm heading out shortly to meet up with a pal at the Bird. I've gotten a bit of a headstart - got my drinkin' shoes on - and damn! Vanilla Smirnoff is good! I bought some ages ago but hadn't tried it till tonight.

As the kids say--
Mood: resolute
Listening to: Brand New, Deja Entendu

Matchbook Romance

I've been listening to Matchbook Romance nearly nonstop for a few days now, and damn is it good.

I went to pick up some photos at Target, photos from disposable cameras that had been hanging around my house for who knows how long. Well, now I know how long. Not only were there pics from the object of most recent heartbreak, but ones from last Halloween which include the heartbreak-guy-before-that (bear in mind there really haven't been very many heartbreaks. These are two out of probably four over the course of the last 15 years.). Seeing the photos from last Halloween wasn't bad - I already had a bunch from other cameras so they were basically just more of same. Those featuring the recent fella, though, are really hard to look at. He's playing with the dogs in most of them, and his expression is just pure joy. There's a nice one of the two of us, too, in which we look utterly blissed.

Stupid happy times, so happy and...not here anymore.

vocabulary

How many of these statements can you interpret?

1. It is fruitless to attempt to indoctrinate a superannuated canine with innovative maneuvers.
2. Scintillate, scintillate, asteroids minified.
3. Members of an avian species of identical plumage congregate.
4. Surveillance should precede saltation.
5. Pulchritude possesses sole cutaneous profundity.
6. It is fruitless to become lachrymose over precipitantly departed lacteal fluid.
7. Freedom from incrustation of grime is contiguous to rectitude.
8. The stylus is more potent than the claymore.
9. Eschew the implement of correction and vitiate the scion.
10. The temperature of the aqueous content of an unremittingly ogled saucepan does not reach 212 degrees.
11. All articles that coruscate with resplendence are not truly auriferous.
12. Where there are visible vapors having their prevalence in ignited carbonaceous material there is conflagration.
13. Sorting on the part of mendicants must be interdicted.
14. A plethora of individuals with expertise in culinary techniques vitiate the possible concoction produced by steeping certain comestibles.
15. Eleemosynary deeds have their incipience intramurally.
16. Male cadavers are incapable of yielding any testimony.
17. Individuals who make their abode in vitreous edifices would be advised to refrain from catapulting petrous projectiles.
18. Neophyte's serendipity.
19. Exclusive dedication to necessitous chores without interlude of hedonistic diversion renders John one habitudinous fellow.
20. A revolving lithic conglomerate accumulates no congeries of a small bryophyl plant.
21. The person presenting the ultimate cachinnation possesses thereby the optimal cachinnation.
22. Abstention from any aleatory undertaking precludes a potential escalation of a lucrative nature.
23. Missiles of ligneous or petrous consistency have the potential of fracturing my osseous structure, but appellations will eternally remain innocuous.
24. Persons of imbecilic mentality divagate in parameter which cherubic entities approach with trepidation.
25. Elementary sartorial techniques initially applied preclude repetitive similar actions to square of three.

it's funny cause it's poison

Found some tres interesting mushrooms in the backyard. Guess this is what you get when it rains every day, ever.


Not so scary:


Really grotacious:



I've also got some cute little flowers scattered throughout the yard. Again, if anyone knows what these are, I'd love to know. I'm hoping I can transplant them somewhere out of the way of the mower.





I've started knitting this hat again. I'm hoping that this time it'll turn out the right size (instead of about ten sizes larger than anticipated, which is what happened the last time). I'm not sure why it turned out so much larger than it should've. I was using needles one size larger than the pattern called for, but that shouldn't have made such a huge difference (the pattern says it'll fit babies 3-6 months, and it would've been too large for me). So this time I cast on with far fewer stitches. I'm doing it with a pink-with-shiny-white-accent baby yarn along with a basic black. I'm only slightly into it, so it's hard to say what it'll look like.

change

It's really disconcerting when you find out that someone you knew quite well has changed their opinion about something truly fundamental. Lately I've been considering the way people view change. For me, it's always been a 'good thing' to be a steadfast person - loyal and true to yourself - which meant not changing who that is, not substantially or at least not often. This is what I grew up believing and still do. Perhaps it's related to a desire to not be perceived as flighty? A person I've known recently professed proudly to be a very changeable person and considers this to be a good thing, which struck me as odd. Flexibility is good, but changing who you are? Can it be healthy to do that all the time? I just found out not too long ago that someone I knew very well and was very close to changed his mind about something that I consider really fundamental, something he was always (when I knew him) very opinionated and sure about. It baffles me. Thoughts, anyone?

some people's kids

Just returned from a walk w/el pooches. This makes 2 of the last 3 walks we've taken during which someone's loose dog came running up to mine and hassled them. Rar! It makes them (Brodie and Logan) so F nervous, they totally freak out. Hair starts flying off of Logan of its own accord, and Brodie starts fighting with the air near his face so that anything in proximity gets what it gets if it gets too close. It makes me F pissed, because there's no earthly reason that people should have their dogs off a leash in the city. It's an ordinance, even, that they can't have their dog off its leash. I sort of feel like their dogs should get close to Brodie, because maybe that'd teach them.


Here's the house today, all done with working gutters and downspouts and all:


The bay window also got new shingles, and I made an attempt at trimming the hideous bushes the other day:


I've got a couple planters with random things in them, mostly weeds as far as I know, but some actual flowers came up this year:


Can anyone identify these?

best in show

I'm half-watching a dog show on Animal Planet, and Ron Reagan just proclaimed a poodle to be "reeking with quality." F.

modernity

Took this photo on Thursday's walk. Ah, Mount Pleasant near dusk.




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My mom brought over some stuff from the grandrents' place clean-out on Friday - I now have two chairs in the front room and it's looking almost like a usable space. ! I already had a little table in there which came from the grandrents' place some time ago. They had a lot of great modern furniture left from the 60s which is somehow still in great shape. Once the hideous wallpaper is gone and the floor's redone, I think this room'll be a nice place to be in as well as a good first impression upon entering the house.









I'm so itching to do home and yard improvements these days. Alas, I have no funds at present. I am attempting to make this a positive in that I can formulate plans and determine what I really want before jumping into the actual doing. Hrmph.

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more from Killing Aurora:
p.96
She knows exactly what will happen now. It can't be avoided. It's one of the outer suburbs of hell, where the same ridiculous, pointless scene hiccups over and over again. This could be last night, it could be tomorrow night, it could be the rest of eternity. It may as well be.

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"I have a very 'can you start my orange' approach to life." --Janeane Garofalo

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I am loving this ad.

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Today I read a novel, The Song Reader by Lisa Tucker. On the whole, I really enjoyed it. The premise is great and there's lots of interesting commentary on the nature of our relationship with music. Some of the drama was a bit much for my taste, but without it, I'm not sure that it could've been a success as a novel.

p.9
"Most people," she said, "ignore the wound, put a Band-Aid on it, and forget it. Only the gutsy ones can look right at the blood, stare into the pain, and risk losing their minds to know what's what."

p.18
"You know, I bet you can tell an awful lot about a person from the songs they sing. I don't mean if they're in love, it's a happy song; if they've broken up, a he-done-me-wrong song. I mean something else. Something in the brain maybe, that lets the music slip past all the things you think you know, and wish you believed to what you really are." She glanced at me. "It's kind of strange, don't you think? Those same words would be ignored if someone tried to just say them to you, but when they're in the music, it's different - you can't help but open up. And then you start singing them, too, and it's like your voice is telling you something you still don't know, but need to. Like you're stuck on a particular song and you can't get it out of your head for a reason."

p.29
"There has to be a soul connection, an unbreakable tie to your heart that can't be confused with hope. When you find that, trust me, you'll know."

p.34
You can't trust anyone who has a favorite song. "There's too much out there to love," she explained. "Any person who can choose just one song must be deaf to the rest of them. It's like a man who likes a woman only for her looks. It's nice at first, and she feels great, but give her enough time, she'll realize she can't trust him because he's blind to the rest of her."

p.227
"People don't lust after Linus."
"Think about the choices here. Charlie Brown is bald. Pigpen stinks. Schroeder's like such an egomaniac. Who wouldn't pick Linus?"

P.266
Music could be the most loyal friend, always taking your feelings seriously but transforming them, too, making things better just by naming them and giving them a melody.

oh yeah

Took the doggeders for another nice brisk walk this evening despite the (apparently) Floridian mugginess (Floridian according to a pal of mine who's actually been there). Managed to get flirted with by a bunch of teenagers at the skate park, but not by any of the actually of-age fellas hanging out in the rest of the park. F.

When I left the house, that creepy home organ music was coming from the neighbors' again.

I forgot to tell the Most Odd/Dreadful Thing Ever that happened yesterday. I was leaving work and was stopped at a red light. A teenager in a wheelchair was kitty-corner across the street from me waiting to cross. He was doing all these little wheelies and stuff in his chair, sort of on/near the curb. I made my turn and after turning, when I looked back in my rearview mirror, he was about 1/3 of the way out into the crosswalk and he tipped over and fell out of his chair. I freaked out and tried to find a place to pull over without messing up traffic, but then some other people were helping him the next second I looked back, so I kept driving. It was really terrible. I mean, imagine being in a wheelchair and falling the F out of it in the middle of traffic. Yipes.

samba bossanova tango

I just had the most surreal experience. I was returning from a walk with the dogs and was passing by my neighbor-a-block-away's house and from the window I hear music. Not just music, but one of those organs like the freaky religious lady from Edward Scissorhands played. Totally blasting! It was a true suburban moment.

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This morning at work was an adventure. About 10:30am the fire alarm went off, so we ushered everyone outside while assuring them that there was no reason to panic. We're having roof work done so we all assumed that the roofers inadvertently triggered the alarm, which of course they denied until it went off for the THIRD time in a row and we discovered water running - not just dripping - THROUGH one of the fire alarms. Of course we had to have the public leave each and every time the alarm went off, which made everyone just pleased as punch. One patron in particular was terrible but I'm going to save that story for the time being. I'm too tired to recount it right now.

poocherinos

What is up with all the Boston Terriers on TV these days? I hope this doesn't become one of those things where they become all trendy and a bunch of people get them and then they end up ditched in two years when they're passe. Though I sometimes wish Brodie & Logan were better behaved, they are still the best dogs.

Believe it or not, they fell asleep like this on their own.


Brodie being still for one millisecond.


Logan's yawning in this one and it makes her mouth look all crazy-go-nuts.

roof day

Today the roofers started working on my house. Of course it was intermittently thunderstorming all afternoon, so they only got half done.

In progress:


The back is all done:


The front will *knock on wood* be finished tomorrow:


Also of course, I had to miss another day of work, but I was able to do a meeting over the phone and some other stuff from home and so got about 4 hours of work done. I only had nine voicemails waiting when I stopped in at work.

One of my neighbors has a friend who visits often who has the most artfully crappily painted car I've ever seen.


Yesterday I started reading a book that was sent to me as a gift a few years ago and somehow got lost among other stuff while I was moving. Killing Aurora. It's apparently out of print now, at least here (it was published in Australia) but I'm enjoying it quite a bit so far. So far it's about a teenage girl whose parents transfer her to a private school after she's caught making out with a boy from her public school.

p.12
By the window the Christians chat over tea they brought from home in tartan thermoses, congratulating themselves on being saved and eagerly awaiting their deaths.

In other news, Mom and Sistrah have been calling every so often asking if I want various objects from the grandrents' townhouse clean-out project. So far it looks like I'll have a new (to me) set of lime green modern armchairs for the sun room, a blender, a mixer, some watering cans, some art, and something else I can't recall.

Harlot Mode

This morning was the hair show. Because of my home-sick sleeping schedule, getting up at the asscrack wasn't as hard as it normally would've been - we had to be there at 7am. I'm really pleased with the cut and color (neither of which are anything radically different from how my hair usually is), the Guest Artist was very good. I was so weirded out by all the makeup they put on me (and they did my make-up "conservative"ly, as opposed to the all-out drag queen make-up they put on everyone else) that I had B. take some pics of me after I was done. He said I was in the aforementioned Harlot Mode, everyone else should feel free to make snide comments.










The hair guy has some impressive credentials - he did the hair on the TV show Homicide for a few seasons, he did Dave Navarro's hair recently, and (this is the one that impressed me) Johnny Depp's hair on Cry Baby. Cry Baby! Of all the movies, it happens to be one of my all-time favorites. Plus he was really friendly and had some nice tattoos.

Go ahead and take it

Take a guess at how old I am. Or, since you probably know it if you're reading this, guess some other people's ages while you're there.

Weakfest

I'm not too hot on the way Blogger does comments. Having to log in? Lame. I'm going to give it a shot until I get too irritated and go back to the Haloscan comments. If you feel strongly about it one way or the other, let me know.

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This morning I had a ton of really intense dreams. By intense, I mean that the feeling I had during them was that of pressure combined with powerful emotion. In one, I was at my parents' house and the fam was there, and oddly, T's mother was there. She was holding flowers (which were for me but it seemed that I'd declined to accept them) and crying because she was going to miss me so much. Everyone was watching this interaction take place. She was backing down the stairs to the landing and I was watching her from the top of the stairs. In real life I only met her twice, and while she seemed really nice, I didn't get the impression that she felt any undue fondness for me. Any analyses from the Peanut Gallery?

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I've just had a minor epiphany regarding people's perceptions of me based on the visual. I'm going to ask a question here and I'd appreciate some honest responses. I'm not going to go into detail until after I hear what people have to say so I don't skew the results. What, in your mind, is the relationship between Anne and Goth(ness)? If you know me well, think about when you first met me. You can email or use the comments.

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So as today is the umpteenth day of rain in a row, I'm beginning to wonder if I'll have my new roof by the time SRP starts. In related weirdness, I stumbled across my roofer's personal ad the other night. I know way more about him now than I ever needed to. What a delightfully information-drenched age we live in.

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Sometimes I find it unbearably depressing when I'm reminded of how small and unfashionable this town is. I just saw an ad for a local body shop (which is part of the dealership where I bought my former and current cars) and the woman who works at the rental car desk is prominently featured. Now, this woman is moderately attractive and dresses well, but in an unmistakably small-town way. Her J Crew/LL Bean/Old Navy clothing and Friends-from-five-years-ago highlights are just too saddening for words. I really must find a way to be around fashionable people more often. Perhaps I can take over the town in a Stepford Wives sort of way, except I'll turn people into cute hipsters with great taste in culture instead of automaton trophy wives.

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I really, really, really want to smack the singer from The Rasmus. And not just sometimes.

New format

Hey people. I adopted a new template for this thingy-dingy, and now comments are included (not that anyone cared that they were coming from another source before). Leave comments and let me know what you think. I'll be making adjustments over the next while.

Today is another day of bleh. I predict a bunch of unrelated thoughts partially due to too-much-allergy-medicide-head.

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I'm trying to eradicate the word 'boy' from my vocabulary, at least in reference to those I date. T. hated being called a boy, and as I was attempting to remember not to refer to him as one, it did occur to me that I've been using it in a fairly derogatory way. Boys are/were expendable and did not require any sort of emotional investment on my part, therefore who cares what I called them, right? At any rate, I've been not to refer to the fellas in my life as boys anymore. Unless they're under 18, and then they can be rightly called boys, and more than likely they're patrons at the library and I'm not dating them, obviously, and this whole thing just got way too convoluted and near-creepy. Today I was reading the archives of one of my favorite blogs and ran across this post in which the blogger (Wendy - I feel weird referring to her by name casually, as if I know her well, which I don't, though she does come across as the sort of gal I'd get along with - but I hate to just call her 'the blogger' like she's some kind of cultural phenomenon creature) speaks of her dislike of said word. So, boy begone.

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So I got an email asking if it was okay for people to ask me questions, and if I would answer them. For the record: yes, go ahead and ask, and if I want to answer them, I will.

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It's been raining practically nonstop for what seems like the last month. I mowed my lawn less than a week ago. Mowed it on the shortest possible setting my lawnmower offers, mind you, the level that makes the lawn resemble a five o'clock shadow on a seventeen-year-old, and my lawn is already at least five inches tall. Granted, it's less grass than dandelions and assorted weeds, but dammit, people. This is why I hate lawns. Of course, my yard is nothing compared to the Dead Lady House across the street, where nothing has been touched since last year in July or so. I shudder to think what's living in that jungle.

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Apparently if I were virtual, I'd look like this:



Creeptastic!

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So tomorrow evening I'm heading over to the casino for a meeting, the purpose of which is to determine whether I will "make a visible change with haircut and/ or haircolor on stage" during a hair show next week. I think I'm game, unless they want to dye it blonde. I am way too pale for that.

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I've rediscovered the joy of string cheese. Remember how when you were a kid you'd have string cheese in your lunch and you'd take as much time as possible, eating it piece by tiny heavenly piece? It's still that much fun.

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Apparently my blog entries alternate gender. I analyzed the past couple of entries (quotes from books not included), and I'm half the time female, half the time male. Interesting.

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Is it just me, or is anyone else tempted to let their house get really, really messy so that Clean Sweep will come fix it?

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Woah! This happens to me at work every now and then. I'm glad it's not a big deal.

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Here's the best sentence I've heard all week, and it's officially becoming part of my everyday life:

"It's like getting a squirrel confused with a mailbox because they're both on the sidewalk."
--Wendy, Pound

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Irony o' the Day: the Blogger.com spellchecker doesn't recognize the word 'blog.'

Bleh. I am sick. Yesterday the roof work at the 'brary included the delightful side bonuses of a constant rain of dirt and dust from the ceiling onto all surfaces in the library (including people), ear-splitting sawing noises, noxious fumes, and the appearance of the sun through my office ceiling. I left feeling only 30% crappy but by the time I was ready for bed my sinuses felt gross so I took some NyQuil to knock me out. So today I made the executive decision to stay home sick (1/2 preemptive strike, 1/2 laziness) and I am still feeling gross. I think I'm mostly gross because I still feel all NyQuil-y (yes, it's been approximately 13 hours since I took the last dose but apparently it's still in my system). I sort of think it'd be a good idea to drink a ton of Coke to wake myself up, but I am out of Coke and until I get up the energy to take a shower I am not fit for the store.

Is Avril Lavigne Liz Phair Jr.? Speaking of Ms. PunkyPants, at the conference a couple weeks ago I picked up an ARC of this book, which is a novelization of the song Sk8r Boi. I have yet to bring myself to actually read it.

Watching crappy TV seems to be using up all my energy right now. Just saw an ad in which a couple are out in a boat with a leak and she handily fixes it with one of the Entire Box of Twenty-Eight Freakin' Tampons she just happens to have in her purse. An ENTIRE BOX, people. No one needs that many tampons at a moment's notice. Unless, I guess, you're in a boat with 28 tampon-sized holes in the bottom.

I ended up going to the Cabin w/Bill and his former roommate and a bunch of other people on Saturday night. It was great fun - drank too much, found some sorbet, and met some fun people. I attempted to meet up with another pal at the Bird halfway through the night, but timing was off and the crowd made it a challenge, so I ended up back at the Cabin. Most enjoyable.

We finished up mixing another five songs yesterday, leaving us with just a handful to finish tonight. I am mega geeked to get this CD out, but it'll probably be a bit before it's all said and done. Dan and I were making little drawings in this notebook I had with me while Scotty was working on the parts where our input isn't needed - I'll see if I can get some of 'em scanned in before too long. All three of us were running on not enough sleep, so we were all loopy and taking quick bursts of nap when we could.

Last night I dreamt about being chased for the first time in forever - actually, it wasn't really a chase. I got away before the chase had a chance to really start, but it was the first time I can remember actually getting away. I hopped into my car and drove off. Woot.

Started reading The Metrosexual Guide to Style: A Handbook for the Modern Man by Michael Flocker, but got distracted by other things to read very shortly. The MGtS is one that a librarian friend of mine picked up at Midwinter and we've all been passing around. I'll have to give it another shot.

Also just read Savage Love by Dan Savage, which was laugh-out-loud funny at times.

Just finished The Between Boyfriends Book: A Collection of Cautiously Hopeful Essays by Cindy Chupack, who wrote for Sex and the City.

p.5
Youc can spot a woman whose relationship is disintegrating because her answering machine gives hourly updates of her whereabouts.
--Too true, not so much answering machine, but IM. This is one of those ridiculous habits I've been trying to break forever. I don't do it all the time, but whenever I do it, it irritates me.

Chapter Two
Sexual Sorbet: The first person you sleep with after a breakup; a palate cleanser to remove the taste of a failed relationship.
--I should be about ready for this. Not sure if I am, though.

Chapter Thirteen
Relationship Reruns: A sobering stage (usually occurring around age thirty) when you realize that the men you meet are basically repeats of the men you've already dated.
--This is uncannily true. Makes me Weirded Out.

p.110
No one is entitled to use the term 'hustle' unless he or she is in an official coaching capacity.
--Not that anyone uses it around me, but I've always hated the word. It makes me think of towels being snapped in a locker room, or of people trying to encourage totally unathletic types like myself into some sort of miraculous sudden ability with their enthusiasm.

p.128
Even though you go through life thinking you are in your own movie, occasionally you realize you've stumbled into someone else's movie, and you are not, in fact, Julia Roberts. At best you're one of the Arquette sisters - in for an act or two, a catalyst for someone else's story. Things will not necessarily end happily for you. Your character may not even learn a lesson.
--This feels like my last several relationships. It makes me feel bitter when I'm frustrated - I've been through a bunch of crappy hard figuring-myself-out stuff, why haven't these men done the same already?

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Listening to: Avenged Sevenfold - Waking the Fallen

Met up with Dan, Bill, and Chris last night and we headed to the Bird. I was in the mood for beer and conversation, but when we got there it turned out that army/navy were playing their 'last show ever' so for some reason the Bird allowed them to play there. That kind of irritated me, since I'd love to have bands play there all the time like in the old days. So they were way too loud for conversation and they were fairly irritating musically (way too much calliope-style keyboard. Reminded me why that Doors phase everyone goes through is just a phase). Plus the fact that some guy from army/navy once talked shit about Sk88, and I was just not in the mood for it. Saw Brian, a fella I went to school with from about jr. high on - he knows Todd who I used to be in marching band with at CMU who was hanging with us. This town gets smaller every day. We were all figuring out how we know each other, and Brian said something about how he and I danced together in 7th grade, something I totally didn't remember. I still kind of don't , although I think I do remember a dance around that age where I danced with a bunch of my pals, so that must be it. My memory.

Dreamt a ton of really intense dreams last night/this morning. In the one right before I woke up, I was a ballet instructor, helping another ballet instructor teach lessons to a bunch of girls of various ages. Some were young, and some were in high school and were students at an arts boarding school. For some reason I was wearing tap shoes. Then all the other teachers and I were gathered to discuss the fact that yet another student has committed suicide in their room. It was some sort of epidemic, and no one was sure what to do about it. Weird. According to some dream symbol info I just perused on the web, the suicide thing probably indicates that I feel like people around me are making changes and moving on, progressing in their lives while I stand around and watch without a clue as to why or how. I can see that. Dance is defined in a lot of different ways (in my completely non-meaningful Google search, looking at pages with no sources, etc.) but generally seems to mean good things for social and love relationships. Or it could be that the word 'dance' was used a number of times at the bar and it got stuck in my head. Half the time I'm interested in knowing this stuff, and the other half I think it's a bunch of f-ing bullshit.

Choose a band/or artist and answer only in song TITLES by that band.

Here we go, I'll go with: Slayer

Are you female or male: Spirit in Black (no Slayer songs refer to females in the title)
Describe yourself: Born of Fire
How do some people feel about you: Angel of Death
How do you feel about yourself: Aggressive Perfector
Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend: Evil Has No Boundaries
Describe where you want to be: Behind the Crooked Glass
Describe what you want to be: Black Magic
Describe how you live: Hell Awaits
Describe how you love: Desire
Share a few words of wisdom: Read Between the Lines

Choose a band/or artist and answer only in song TITLES by that band.

Here we go, I'll go with: Tori Amos

Are you female or male: Girl
Describe yourself: Spark
How do some people feel about you: Crazy
How do you feel about yourself: Strange
Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend: Gold Dust
Describe where you want to be: 1,000 Oceans
Describe what you want to be: Happy Phantom
Describe how you live: A Sorta Fairytale
Describe how you love: Another Girl's Paradise
Share a few words of wisdom: Mrs. Jesus

Choose a band/or artist and answer only in song TITLES by that band.

Here we go, I'll go with: u2

Are you female or male: Mothers of the Disappeared
Describe yourself: One
How do some people feel about you: Mysterious Ways
How do you feel about yourself: Even Better Than the Real Thing
Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend: Stranger in a Strange Land
Describe where you want to be: Until the End of the World
Describe what you want to be: With or Without You
Describe how you live: Like a Song
Describe how you love: Love is Blindness
Share a few words of wisdom: Trip Through Your Wires

Choose a band or artist and answer only in song TITLES by that band.

Here we go, I'll go with: Stray Cats

Are you female or male: (She's) Sexy & 17

Describe yourself: Baby Blue Eyes

How do some people feel about you: Crazy Mixed-Up Kid

How do you feel about yourself: Rebels Rule

Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend: Runaway Boys

Describe where you want to be: 18 Miles to Memphis

Describe what you want to be: Built for Speed

Describe how you live: Rock This Town

Describe how you love: Rev It Up and Go

Share a few words of wisdom: Lookin' Better Every Beer

Choose a band or artist and answer only in song TITLES by that band.

Here we go, I'll go with: REM

Are you female or male: She Just Wants to Be

Describe yourself: Bittersweet Me

How do some people feel about you: Pretty Persuasion

How do you feel about yourself: World Leader Pretend

Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend: Turn You Inside-Out

Describe where you want to be: I'll Take the Rain

Describe what you want to be: Nightswimming

Describe how you live: I Don't Sleep, I Dream

Describe how you love: Strange Currencies

Share a few words of wisdom: Talk About the Passion (and no, I do not mean the movie)

DDB passed me this sweet quizzie. I'm going to have so much fun with this.

Choose a band or artist and answer only in song TITLES by that band.

Here we go, I'll go with: They Might Be Giants

Are you female or male: She's Actual Size

Describe yourself: I've Got a Match

How do some people feel about you: Wicked Little Critta --tied with-- She's an Angel

How do you feel about yourself: My Evil Twin

Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend: Everything Right is Wrong Again

Describe where you want to be: Nightgown of the Sullen Moon

Describe what you want to be: Lucky Ball & Chain

Describe how you live: I Should Be Allowed to Think

Describe how you love: S-E-X-X-Y

Share a few words of wisdom: Alienation's for the Rich

I'm surfing around wasting energy while I'm watching Tough Crowd - and just ran into a personal ad titled "God's Guy Seeks Holy Hottie". Goddam.

Finished Lullaby last night.

p.34
The trick to forgetting the big picture is to look at everything close-up.

The shortcut to closing any door is to bury yourself in the little details. The facts. The best part of becoming a reporter is you can hide behind your notebook. Everything is always research.
--I find this true, and I find the opposite to be true. For me it tends toward the opposite - I'll avoid closing the door by burying myself in the little details. Researching the little details is what keeps me from moving on. I have to actively stop myself from that sort of research in order to move on.

p.148
No matter how much you love someone, you still want to have your own way.
--Too true.

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Janeane Garafalo was just on the Daily Show and she totally went off on Dubya. She said he's "cocky with christ" - f-ing hilarious.

Great article from Salon. GRRRRRR!

Took the dogs for a walk this afternoon, out by the CMU industrial park. It was uber-windy but not unpleasant.

Took some pics of the flowers out front:







I'm all geeked that they're coming up of their own accord this year, especially since I planted them so haphazardly last year.

Went out w/Dan and C. tonight to the Bird. Saw some various people I hadn't seen in awhile. It was pretty fun until a sorority came in on a pub crawl and filled the aisle with obnoxiousness. Also one of T's friends was there and looked me right in the eye and didn't acknowledge or greet me. Totally weak. Overall it made me feel old but I'm glad I went out anyway. I wonder who all the people who read this are who never leave comments. If you're reading this, leave comments, people!

Got back all tuckered out last night from SI - too pooped to party, which sucked, since it was the Halfway-to-Hallween fete at Diablo's. C'est la vie.

Has anyone else seen the new ad for Cheez-It Twisterz? Is that Moxy Fruvous?