Blossom

Did you think, from the title of this post, that I was going to talk about Mayim Bialik as Blossom and her shenanigans with Six and Joey and the gang? Alas, it is not to be today. Sorry to disappoint as that would probably be more entertaining.


The other day a photographer was at my work doing some professional photography biznazz, and as he was setting up me and two of my co-workers posed it up for fun and did a damn good recreation of the original Charlie's Angels logo. You know the one.

I was the middle angel. I'm thinking that was supposed to be Kate Jackson, who was the smart one, who I feel like should have been my favorite, but my actual favorite was always Jaclyn Smith, just because I thought she had the darkest skin. Listen, little brown girls have to make do with whatever cultural representation we can get sometimes, including reassigning ethnicity to white people when needed. Necessity, mother of invention, you know what I'm talking about. 


(I also want to point out that contrary to what this blog may tell you, I actually do a lot of working while at work. Like, a lot a lot. I know I tend to tell you about the posing for silly pictures and cheerleading in my office and singing Friday songs with my coworkers, but there is mostly actual work happening, like 99% of the time. Just to be clear).


Anyway, the photographer emailed us the photo later, and you know what?  I could not have been more pleased with myself in that snapshot, you guys. It was like I had waited my whole life to be the center of the Angels trio. I simultaneously love that and am heartily appalled as well.


Let's see, what has been going on this week in non-Charlie's-Angel-posing news? I went to see the Hunger Games (more on that in Consumables) at the Seattle Cinerama where they make chocolate popcorn which causes the whole theater to smell like fresh baked brownies, which is a reason enough to go to the movies if you ask me. I also went to a waffle brunch at a friend's house where the ladies engaged in a great debate on whether or not The Rock is hot or not. There didn't seem to be much room for gray area here- it was a divide akin to the Grand Canyon, we found. Also discovered? Peanut butter waffles are delicious. Some things are unanimous.


We also had one warm, sunny delightful day in the past week. Everyone in Seattle immediately ran outside to find something to do just to be in it. What I decided to do was head over to the University of Washington campus to see all of the cherry blossoms in bloom. I just went, and strolled, and sat, and it was perfection. Seattle people, go do that before the bloom is over!


I have high hopes for this weekend, despite not so great weather reports. "In my opinionation, the sun is gonna surely shine." Aw snap! I brought it right back around to Mayim Bialik, dudes! Full circle post, wut wut!

All I Am Saying, Give Chauncey a Chance

It's still cloudy and sprinkly in Seattle, but spring has definitely sprung. I am one of the few people in this city that doesn't care about sun as much as I care about warmth. And the thermometer shows that we are not in danger of any freaking snow any time soon which is all I care about. Rain, I can handle you just fine. I just prefer spring rain to winter rain. Summer rain is even better.


I can't think the words "summer rain" without thinking of that Belinda Carlisle song. That is one of those facts that straddles the line between pathetically sad and unbelievably awesome.


Subject change! (I know. Great writing technique. Dispense with transitions and just yell "subject change!" at will).


I know this dude- well, I sort of know him. He knows who I am, is really the extent of it, but he probably couldn't pick me out of a line up, and to quote Madeline Kahn in Young Frankenstein, the feeling is mooch-ell. We nominally know each other. I'll call him Chauncey. Just because whenever Nordic Boy wants to denote fanciness in a person, he for some reason calls them Chauncey. It is a universal hooty-tooty name, I guess. Chauncey is bonafide fancy, for reals. Lots of fancy degrees, lots of fancy jobs. Like, a lot of jobs, simultaneously, which I sort of don't get. How do these fancy people have so many jobs? Chauncey holds a high post at the UN, and he also teaches regularly at NYU, and Wharton, and some business school in France. Each year, he is doing all these things. He is also a really active trustee on a few foundations and boards that you have heard of, but I don't want to name. He plays classical piano. He engages in polo and other equestrian type things. He's just such a...Chauncey.


Anyway, the fanciness is not even what I want to talk about. I want to talk about the busy-ness. So many things! So many places! I don't get it. And what I don't get, even more than that, is this dude's ability to be responsive. I have cause to email Chauncey maybe once a year or so. It's too complicated to even get into how the hell I even know this person, and plus it's boring. But whenever I email him, you know what? He emails me back WITHIN TEN MINUTES. Granted, his emails back are not wordy, but they are pleasant, and do not sound rushed, and always warm and personal. At first I thought maybe it was his people- like he had a secretary or something that was emailing me back for him, but nope. I can tell from the content of the email that it's really him.


This morning I emailed him and then closed out my email and started doing something else, but a couple of minutes went by and I started to feel like I had to get back in there to see if he did it again. And he did! By the time I logged back in he had already gotten back to me.


I hate to say this, but I live in a world where you email someone and you're lucky to hear back from them in a couple of weeks, let alone a couple of days. I am not saying we all need to be like Chauncey (who I suspect has a Blackberry grafted directly onto his hand), but I think we can all do a bit better with responding to people, don't you? I think I am above average on this front, but I flake out sometimes. I know I do. And I feel like it's not out of the ordinary for some folks to straight up make a habit of forgetting to ever get back to people. Or leaving their friends hanging but always having a breezy apology weeks later. As a matter of fact I just witnessed some straight up bullshiz on that front last week, albeit it was secondhand and not directed at me so technically none of my business but I was still silently offended on behalf of the person I saw it happening to. It was some serious flakage happening, people. Frosted flakage.


Anyway, Chauncey just made me think. If someone talks to you in person, you talk back to them. You don't ignore them for a month and then say oh hey girl, sorry about that, what did you say again? It should be the same with the technologies too, right? At least for the majority of the time, yes? Why do I feel like I am saying something too radical, and I need to tone it down?


At any rate, Chauncey blows my mind on this on an annual basis. Maybe the trick is to only talk to each person you know once a year.


Aw, I don't know. Let's just watch this Belinda Carlisle video and ponder this together.

Speaking out on spring time

Today was sunny, and like a total doofus I woke up and thought it was spring and wore a spring outfit. No tights, half sleeves. Then I proceeded to freeze my nuts off for the rest of the day, because sun does not equal warmth, necessarily. See, when you live through a Seattle winter you forget that. Fire ball in the sky? It must be 70 degrees out! No, dipshit, it doesn't mean that.

However, I do submit that drinking in some sunlight after a long time without it makes you drunk. Like loopy drunk. One of my coworkers did a full-voice cheer today. Like, as in, cheerleading was happening in my office. Also, I was in two meetings where people, including me, laughed until they cried. I mean, funny stuff happens at work, sure, but the library ain't that funny, people. Lastly, although I am a loving soul by nature, I was overly full of love today. I was just feeling the lovey feelings for every last person I saw. Not in an icky way, don't be dirty. Just in a drunk "I LOVE YOU MAN" sort of way.

One thing that I don't love though? The term "speaking out." Also "breaking his/her silence." Why are headlines always saying that people are speaking out on things? Especially things that are of little consequence? I feel like if you are Greta Garbo or JD Salinger or something, and then someone said that you went on a puppy kicking spree or something, your granting an interview to clear your name would be breaking your silence, and also be speaking out. But like today there was a headline that Kris Jenner was speaking out about Kim Kardashian getting flour bombed. That is not speaking out, people! That is just speaking. Next thing you know we will all be expected to pay attention because Donald Trump has broken his silence.

Ok, so apparently I am ceasing to be an I Love You Drunk and turning into an I Am Surly Drunk.

That is all I have to say to you for today. Stellar writing craftsmanship once again, I know! I am amazing.

Have a lovely weekend, all! I LOVE YOU GUYS. I must break my silence to make that point.

Also, here is the song my coworker and I insist on singing to each other on Friday afternoons. Click and enjoy.

Consumables #60

A co-worker came to my office on Friday and simply said: "There's a little bit of sun peeking through out there right now! If you want to see any, go now! GO NOW!" And I dropped what I was doing, put my coat on, and went outside. It was still butt cold and windy, but I got that sun while it was here. I got you, sun! I got you! HA HA HA HA HAAAAA.

This is the state of mind I had when entering my weekend.

It turned out pretty dang good- I had not one solid plan for the whole weekend which felt really lovely. I usually like to have a plan or two in the hopper but this time around I really needed to just freeball it. And ew, sorry I just said freeball it.

Freeballing (and is it just me or can that term not be used without a paralyzing desire to sing Tom Petty? Now I'm FREE! FREEBALLIN'!) consisted of lots of take-out food and couch time, two brunches out (one with Biogirl and the other with Biogirl, Nordic Boy and Delium), a teatime meet up with Jenny where she accidentally shot a pony tail holder at a man at the next table, and that's really about the perfect level of excitement that I needed.

That's about all I have to say, so let's talk about what's happening with me and the pop cultures lately.

Project Runway All Stars

It hurts me when Mondo acts like a whiney buttmunch. Stop it Mondo! Go back to being adorbs.

Being Elmo

Documentary about the muppeteer who plays Elmo. I think it must be my generation but I am enthralled by most things muppet. I don't think this was the best documentary ever in terms of how it was put together and there were things that I wished they would have asked Clash about and they didn't, but still, I was all over it.

Staying Alive

I was in a grumpy mood last week and so I fired up this puppy, and man, did it do me right. Stallone directs Travolta in the sequel to Saturday Night Fever! Travolta gets oiled up and puts on a headband and a speedo-sized dance belt and does horrifying contempo jazzercise moves! There are smoke machines, and cage dancing! Oh it's masterful.

My Week with Marilyn

As a person who has watched classic movies over and over again, including everything Marilyn Monroe was ever in, I was super excited to see this. The Prince and the Showgirl (which is the movie that is featured within this movie) is interesting to begin with not because it's a great movie- I don't think it is although that can be argued for sure- but because it brings together Olivier and Monroe. The behind the scenes stories about this collaboration are legendary by now, and so trying to make My Week with Marilyn seems like such a daunting thing to do, and so I want to give it a pass on what I thought were some weak points. I thought Kenneth Branagh as Olivier was awesome, and I wanted to believe Michelle Williams as Monroe and sometimes I did, but other times I didn't, but maybe I was being a dick about that, I can't decide. Also, I think they overplayed Monroe's insecurities. Not that I think that she didn't have them and ultimately was probably ruled by them, but I wished they would have explored that in a less obvious way. Wow, this is getting dangerously close to a sort of review of the movie and we all know I don't really do that, so I'll stop. Oh, one more thing, and now you know I am getting way nitpicky, but Marilyn Monroe was not that skinny. I know we don't seem to have anything but waifs on the screen anymore, but seeing tiny Michelle Williams as Marilyn Monroe seemed really odd to me.

Kingdom Keepers #1, by Ridley Pearson

The first in a series about a group of kids who can turn themselves into holograms (sort of) and transport themselves into Disneyland at night after it has closed, where they battle the evil Disney characters who come alive. It's better than it sounds. I admit it did not appeal to me as an adult lady but I can see the kid appeal for sure, especially if they have been to Disneyland or Disneyworld or whatever.

Parade's End, by Ford Madox Ford

This book is about 7.4 million pages long with tiny font so technically I have not finished it yet, and I will likely read it in chunks throughout the year, but I have read enough of it to talk about it now. It is a book written for my inner old man (there is a part of my reading taste that is 80 years old) so if you have that part of you you will like this, I think. It's set during World War I in England, and there are class divides and political upheavals and some romance too, although it's not romantic. Think of it like Downton Abbey but less soap opera-ish and with lots more long-winded discussions of Tories and the disintegration of moral codes and the like. It's going to be made into an HBO/BBC tv series soon, so if you don't want 7.4 million pages, wait for that.

Fashion lectures

For the past couple of months Biogirl and I have been spending every other Thursday night attending a series of fashion lectures at the University of Washington museum (the Henry Gallery). The lectures were focused on the first half of the 20th century, so we got to hear about everything from the decline of corsets to the rise of the little black dress. The lectures were more philosophical and historical than anything, and I wished the lecturer would have blitzed us with a ton more slides (people who are interested in clothes want to hear about clothes, yes, but really we want to see lots of clothes more than anything). I don't have much to say on this other than to plug the idea of doing something like this on a topic that interests you. It's worth the time to try it.

Have a good week, everyone! Seattleites, take heart. Marvember will not be here much longer.

Sogfest 2012

So, I did end up going to the roller skating party last weekend, but my ankle was still busted up, so I got to play the part of the 5th grade nerd that sits at a table the whole time and watches everyone's coats while they whooped it up without me to Milli Vanilli. On the upside, Nordic Boy is the cutest rollerskater on planet earth, so at least I had something to entertain me. I have been to a few rollerskating venues as an adult and those things do not get updated, you guys. They are decorated the same as when I was a kid, playing the same music, serving the same food (that last one may actually be literal). It seemed crazy, but right. Why would you update a rollerskating place? And if you did, how would you? They should make that a design challenge of some sort.

My ankle seems to on a slow mend. I am back to sporting heels so we will see if I regret that by the end of the day. That bowling injury was not a joke. Granny needs to be more careful. Also, Seattle truly has turned into a Noah's ark Atlantis situation. Yes, both. There comes a time in the year where I start to disbelieve that a non-soggy existence is even possible. It just becomes The Way Things Are. Sun? What is that?

So on this dreary, windy, rainy, ankle-tweaked day, these are some things that are making me feel, if not like a million bucks, then like at least a few grand.

Misheard lyrics. Why are misheard lyrics so funny? Like when I thought Wanna Be Starting Something lyrics were: too high to get over, too low to get under, you're stuck in the middle, and the penis finger? Or when Delium thought the Police were saying, instead of Every Little Thing She Does is Magic, it was Reverend Simpson Does His Magic? PURE COMEDY.

The other day we were in the car and "We Found Love in a Hopeless Place" was on. And when Rihanna says "Yellow diamonds in the light," we said this.

Nordic Boy: What is she saying? Yankee dingos in the night?

Biogirl: Yankee dingos???

Me: Yeah, didn't you ever learn about the great dingo migration of 1775, when dingos invaded New England?

Biogirl: Oh yes. That was when Paul Revere said "the dingos are coming! the dingos are coming!"

Nordic Boy: To eat your bay-bees!

We just about busted our guts over that one. I don't even know why it was so funny.

Let's just go ahead and expand the misheard lyrics category into Saying Weird Things. Saying weird things makes me happy. Like last night, Nordic Boy was playing solitaire, and I don't know what came over him but he was getting vocally competetive with hisself about the solitaire. "Aw yeah! I am OWNING THIS!" I heard him say. And then he says the following: "I am so going to win this game. Winning is happening! I AM WINNETH PALTROW!"

Winneth Paltrow! Goddangit I love that man.

Kindred

How many times in your life have you met (as Anne Shirley would say) a kindred spirit? I don't know if I believe in past lives or not, but the times when I have met those people for me, I have had the thought that I must have known them before or something, because how could they see who I was so well? How could they get to the core of my soul the way they do?

 When I was in college and working at the canoe rental place (I still find it so weird that I did that), I had to work a late shift with Jenny. We didn't really know each other at all- it was one of my first shifts at the job, but we laughed and talked and pretty much told each other our whole life stories including our secrets that very first time we talked. I remember we did each other's MASH fortunes and I felt like I was 10 years old again talking to her. From day one, we were homies, no questions asked. Sometimes, finding a kindred spirit doesn't happen on the first day you meet. Biogirl and I worked together for about a year, and liked each other, but didn't really hit it off until we made our first friend-date outside of work. That first date lasted the entire day, from morning until a late movie. It was like all of a sudden- click- she came into focus for me. We hung out and we didn't want the friend-date to ever end. And to this day, it sort of hasn't. The first time I hung out with Nordic Boy was another one. It sounds cheesy, but there was something that came alive in me (much like Peter Frampton) the very first time we hung out after work. I felt like he just looked right through every dumb game I had ever played with people and just saw me.

There's a part of my brain (the old, crotchety, cobwebby part) that thinks that the phase in my life where I get to find soul mates is over, not because I am older but because I am all stocked up. I have gathered up my most cherished people already and I will hold them close, but really, that's all I get. I still feel like I will find new people to love- I do that pretty regularly because awesomeness seems to find me- but kindred? A soul twin (kind of like a hand twin only less lucrative)? I don't know.

Except, actually, I do know. I was having this conversation the other day and I felt like I was getting hit with a pie in the face (ok, so I know that actually getting hit in the face with a pie does not sound like a good thing, and it probably isn't when it's physically really happening to you, but pie-face as an abstract idea...come on, delightful, right? Your whole face! In a PIE. That's a really lovely thing). And it was a kindred spirit pie. It's such a strange feeling due to the fact that one doesn't have it anew very often. For me, less than 10 times in my life, which granted, is kind of a lot. I know some people don't get it at all. But still, less than 10 times out of the thousands of people one meets: it's quite a rare thing. And kind of a small thing. After all, it's just a feeling. A feeling that I would express thusly: this person...gets me. WEIRD. That's pretty much it.

So, I guess I'm not done with finding kindred spirits after all. It may sound dumb, but it feels really lovely to be shown that.

That's not the only reason I have been thinking about this. I've also been thinking about my lovely Neighbor J and the few years we spent living next door to each other. When I first moved in she had me over for tea, and we had the first of many chats that would go on long enough to make us both hoarse. We both invested in dorky looking headset phones because of our friendship: we would literally spend 2-4 hours a day on the phone with each other talking, talking, talking. We never ran out of things to say to each other, ever. We talked while we cooked, we talked while we did laundry, we talked while we watched the same movie on our tvs, like Harry and Sally. We ate lunches and dinners together in our shared backyard, and when I got home from grad school class I would walk in my door and she would yell "Hi Neighbor!" through the wall to me. Aside from Biogirl Neighbor J takes the prize for joined-at-the-hipness with me. It was a really golden, really happy time in my life, and lots of that was because of Neighbor J. Kindred spirit.

On Sunday, Neighbor J and her hubs Neighbor B welcomed a brand new little neighbor into the world: their daughter, Neighbor E. Yahoo! Kindred spirits come in all sizes.

So, that's what I am thinking about this week. Kindred spirits, old, brand new, and just born. What about yours?

Be a sport

Ok ok ok ok. I have seriously got to get out of the blog lull. I need Cher to come over and smack me across the face or something, I don't know. Add to the writing ennui the fact that my innernets are jacked up at my house and I am having to write this on my phone and that is a recipe for blogger disappearance. To that I say: fergit it! I shall persevere!

You may think that concludes Dumbest Whinefest Ever, but wait, there's more! I went to this bowling party recently and decided that what my bowling technique was lacking was that I wasn't getting low enough. You'll be happy to know that I did not wear any apple bottom jeans to help me in my getting low endeavors, however I did commit to my new stance, and for my trouble I got an effed up ankle. A BOWLING injury, people. There is nothing quite like it to make a lady feel Methuselah-esque. On the upside I killed it on the bowling scores. Lifetime best! Ok so that just means a 120 but do not mistake me when I say that there was a lot of end zone dancing that occurred, even in my gimpy ankle.

The other thing I have to report is that I have continued my quest to find my favorite cocktail. So far the mojito is in first place, which is making me sorely disappointed in myself. So boring, right? I refuse to give up on this and stop there.

In other sporty news, I went to this thing called Smashputt. Basically some artists get together and build a crazy mini-golf course in a warehouse. (An aside: I saw not one, not two, but three people wearing big military style hats. I wasn't close enough to them to see if it was more a Colonel Klink thing or more of a Captain from Captain and Tenille thing, but they were in that sartorial vicinity. To which I say: is that a thing now, hipsters? Please tell me it isn't.) Anyway, I suck at the golfing at about the exact levels as I do at bowling, but no injuries were sustained so at least there's that. Before we went to golf we had to sign this crazy golf waiver that basically said we might die from electrocution or the like from the course and if we did die it's on us, so I guess if I was supposed to get injured anywhere it really really should not have been from bending my knees excessively while gently releasing an 8 pound ball. I got it backwards as usual.

The coolest thing about the golfing was the crazy take one artist did on a "golf range." in this version, you get to put this big welding type mask in your face (in case something backfires?) and sit down with this big ass pneumatic rifle and a bucket of golf balls. You liad up and you shoot a bunch if aural targets. There was a piano on its side you could hit, some cymbals, an empty scuba tank, just all kinds of loud stuff. And I have to tell you that I have the least amount of interest in guns ever but GODDAMMIT that was fun.

This weekend we got invited out to go roller skating (we'll see how grandma's ankle is doing) so I am not sure how my life has turned into a series of semi sporty events, but there you go.

Have a lovely weekend, all. And my advice to you is: get low, just not too low.

Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Consumables #59

Hey you know what? I've totally been feeling like...well, I don't know how to explain it really. Maybe a sound says it best?

No, that's not it exactly. Maybe I feel like life is like a box of Nelson?

No, that's not it either. Um, something?

Oh I don't know what I'm even saying.

THE POINT IS. I'm having a weird week.

I have no consumables to really report because apparently when I feel this way I lose all ability to pay attention to things. No books, no movies, no nothing. Cutting for Stone came in for me at the library and I swear my brain looked at me from behind my eyeballs and laughed. You think you are reading that? Do you see how many pages that is? If you think I am helping you out with that this week you're a fucking moron. My brain can be a total dick sometimes. I also have the book that all my teen librarian friends are talking about: The Fault in Our Stars sitting on my table at home and I just can't do that either. I don't know if that's because of my weird week or if it's because it's about cancer, which I didn't realize. There's something about having a loved one with cancer that makes me not want to read about cancer in my free time, like, for entertainment. So that was out. I did read The Downside of Being Up, which is a tween fiction book about this kid who gets kicked out of school because he gets a boner. Not since Then Again Maybe I Won't has pubescent dingdong fiction been on my radar.

I continue to watch Felicity episodes on Netflix streaming because that takes up just about as much brain power as boner books. I had always heard about Felicity but I never had watched it before, and I have something I would like to say about it. Because I am nothing if not a person who gives ever so relevant commentary on shows from 2001. I ask you how many pregnancy scares can one show have? Everyone is constantly thinking they are pregnant, and some of them end up actually being so. This is the most fertile group of 5 teens I have ever seen in my life.

I also continue to watch the Walking Dead although Nordic Boy and I are full on Team Zombie at this point. We really don't like those people and we kind of want them to all get their brains eaten.

I also watched the Grammys and the Oscars, which I love and will watch no matter how crap they get, but I really wish that each year one person or movie didn't just sweep everything. I just feel like the industry in question decides as a group that it will be the Year of Adele or whatever, and then that person gets every last thing, which gets boring. That said, I love Adele and I loved Hugo too so there you go.

Speaking of loving things, I saw the movie Pina and oh my god you guys. It was the best thing ever ever ever. I love Pina Bausch's work so much and to have this gorgeous movie made of it, I just almost couldn't believe it was happening. So good. I wanted to freaking EAT IT.

I mean seriously, watch this: