Emily and James Blunt

Today during my lunch hour, I was standing in line at the drug store, and this man in line was singing softly along to the piped in music. It was "Juke Box Hero" by Foreigner, in case you were wondering. The woman behind him thought he was talking to her, and so she said "excuse me?" to him. Instead of saying "nothing," which seems like the expected response, he said all loud and proud "I am SINGING. I love to SING."

Then, I was walking down the street, and there was a lady on the corner who was trying to stop people to sign some sort of petition or something. You know how that goes- people hurry by, trying not to make eye contact, and the most petition lady can hope for is for the more polite people to mumble "sorry, not today," or something like that. I heard her say "do you have a minute to talk to me today?" and a woman responded "Yes, I do have a minute, but I just don't feel like talking to someone I don't know about something political."

So you guys, obviously this is Blunt Honesty Day and no one told me.

I am trying to think of something Bluntly Honest to tell you. I feel like honesty is easy, it's coming up with something sufficiently blunt that is harder.

Here are some honest facts.

Someone flipped me the bird when I was walking down the street the other day. It made me think about the fact that I don't often see bird flippage outside of a vehicle, just out on the street like that. I actually don't know what the bird was for- I was walking around minding my own beeswax and I don't think I was doing anything annoying. But some dude looked me dead in my face and boom. Bird. It was funny and also did not make me feel good, somehow at the same time. Kind of like watching Toddlers and Tiaras makes one feel.

In the past couple of weeks I have had people I admire on Twitter tweet something at me or Favorite something of mine. I feel all kinds of stupid that: (a) I admire people on Twitter, and (b) that I would get that excited about getting Twitter-acknowledged. That can't be healthy, right?

Anna Breslaw on Jezebel described Louis CK as the "Lethargic Husky Dream Man of men and women across the nation" and that made me want to die from the funny.

I realized this week that I became the "Loudly Sighing Lady" at work and made a note to STOP IMMEDIATELY.

I don't know if that was blunt, but it's all I got. I hope you have a lovely weekend!

Consumables #64

Hey wow, you guys. Just when I write something pretty grumpy, you come back at me with such niceness and making-me-feel-better-ness. I got so many lovely emails and messages. Just goes to show you that despite all my complaining, people are so lovely. At least you are. Thank you so much. If you wrote me, I promise I will write you back- I am still catching up with that.

My dad is out of ICU as of yesterday (woo hoo!) and so although he's still in the hospital for now, things are back to normal levels of freaked out, rather than feelings-of-pukiness levels of freaked out. Which hey, I will so take that.

I don't know quite how to transition from that into talking about the teevees and what's silly in my world, but hey, you know me, I will just babble into it. Back to our regularly scheduled doofiness. My weekend was pretty low-key- the kind where I pretty much stayed in my house all the livelong day each day, but I did make it out to the first barbecue party of the year, and dudes, I had to leave by 8pm even though I was having fun, solely because I was turning into a popsicle. Seattle summers don't often start before July every year (despite the entire greater metropolitan area bitching and moaning about it in perfect unison starting in March, but- not to get all sciencey on you- did you know that the weather systems do not change based on the sheer force of complaints it receives? At least that is my understanding but do not ask me to show my work on that story problem). Anyway, we all got our asses outside and barbecued it up, wearing coats and gloves and scarves. I am always a bit jealous of those warm-blooded people in these situations, who don't seem bothered at all and show up in their sandals when it's 50 degrees out, while I fold into a ball and cry ice cube tears.

Ok, shut up about the mothersucking weather and get to some Consumables! There are so many! I am so backed up on Consumables! I need Correctol for ladies for my Consumables! (gross)

In the Teevee!

Flying Wild Alaska
Ok, I know that this seems like another one of those reality shows like Ice Road Truckers or whatever, and yes, it totally is that. So if you don't think that watching bush pilots in Alaska who have to fly in crazy weather conditions appealing, maybe not so much. But here's the thing that hooked me about the show- it does a really great job of highlighting the communities in this part of Alaska and how they live. Like, if someone gets sick on a reservation and they need to go the hospital, they depend on these bush pilots to get them there. Or, if they want to eat strawberries, like, ever. Also, I find the daughter of the main two pilots, Ariel, totes adorbs.

Game of Thrones
I have been putting off starting this series because just based on what people say about it, I knew that it would be one of those things that I would glom onto and not be able to look away from for days and days in a way that is probably not healthy. And, yes. This has happened. I have only watched about 4 episodes and I can't wait to get back to it. Goodbye other things in life. See you when I am caught up on Game of Thrones. (As an aside: please tell me that things will get more complicated with the Dothraki folks, because dudes, that shit is racist so far).

Birdsong
Fleur Delecour/Eva from Gossip Girl gets romantical with a young soldier. It's unrequited, it's WWI, it's Masterpiece Theatre, you get the picture.

Movies!
Left by the Ship
This documentary follows 4 adults (out of thousands) in the Phillipines who were fathered by US soldiers. Unlike many other countries, where the US has recognized similar populations of children, Filipino children are not recognized. The film did a good job of showing what the lives of the 4 children look like and how the circumstance of their birth affected them personally. I would have liked it more if it had gotten into more of the legal and political background of the situation.

Carol Channing: Larger Than Life
From the interviews and clips in this documentary, Carol Channing is as awesome and endearing as you might imagine her to be. I am fascinated with performers who are actors who really don't act, or singers who really don't sing. That whole "Carol Channing" thing that she does on stage? That's really just how she is, for reals, if you can believe that, which I do. I am not saying there's anything wrong with it- I am a fan, actually. I just find it totally intriguing that one could make a whole singing/acting career out of being a kooky lady. A hardworking kooky lady, don't get me wrong, but you know what I mean?

Woman of the Year
I don't know if I can express the joy I get out of a Spencer Tracy Katherine Hepburn movie. It's just so delicious to me. And dang, that lady can rock a pantsuit like nobody since.

Barefoot in the Park
There is really nothing to this movie except for Jane Fonda and Robert Redford being gorgeous (sorry Neil Simon), and you know what? That is good enough for me.

Page One: Inside the New York Times
I don't know that this illuminated me on anything in particular (newspapers are struggling, will the New York Times survive, what is the role of bloggers and tv news in relation to the NYT) but I still found it fascinating in a behind-the-scenes way. Just watching David Carr and Andrew Ross Sorkin et al run around doing their thing was cool. (Hi, nerd alert).

Books!

Washington Square, by Henry James
This was the book I took to New York with me, just because I wanted something extra New Yorky. I had never read any Henry James before, and for some reason I somehow got it into my head that he was (embarrassed librarian bomb about to go off, get ready) a sort of spooky writer, kind of like an Edgar Allen Poe type person. Where the HAIL I got that idea I don't even know. So anyway, I really liked the book, but the entire time I was reading it I kept thinking "yes, yes, social manners, but where are the ghosts and stuff?" Turns out, I was thinking of M.R. James. Not Henry James. Major oopsy.

Stories I Only Tell My Friends, by Rob Lowe
As far as celebrity autobiographies go, it wasn't the best, and it wasn't the worst. Anyone who has been famous for as long as Rob Lowe has been has a vast collection of celebrity-filled stories. He dated Cary Grant's daughter as a kid and hung out with her and her dad at their house. He knew John F. Kennedy Jr. He's childhood besties with Charlie Sheen. However, he spends way, way too much time on his experience with The Outsiders. He also barely says anything about dating Melissa Gilbert for years which (1) Little House on the Prairie fans SERIOUSLY want to know about, and (2) has to suck for Melissa because in her autobiography she talks a lot about how much she was in luuuuuuv with that guy and now she barely gets a mention back? Ouch.

Doctor Proctor's Fart Powder, by Jo Nesbo
Part of the reason I read this was because I knew I would be seeing Nesbo speak in New York, and I didn't really want to read any of his grown up books at that particular time, so I went for his kid series. There is adventure, friendship, and farts. I know a lot of kids (hi, nephews) who would love this book. And some adults.

Fifty Shades of Grey, by E.L. James
Let me just say that I wanted to see what all the fuss was about, and now that I have read it, I still don't see what all the fuss is about. It's a mediocre romance with some spanking thrown in. Ok. I kept thinking... "and?" Chalk me up for I-don't-get-it, party of one.

Breadcrumbs, by Anne Ursu
I probably should have written about this one first, because let's face it, after all that mess up until now, who is still reading this? Oh well. If you've stuck with me this far, here's what I have to say about this book. I loved it. It's a kid book that transcends age, and a fantasy book that transcends genre. I felt like this book was talking to me and shit. Like, I was reading it, and thinking "book, can you see me?" If you have ever had a friend so super close that they felt like a part of the inside of you, and then that person didn't want to be your friend anymore, and you had to ask yourself, "how hard am I willing to try to get this person back? Or do I just let them go?" this book may be talking to you too. I read it in a restaurant by myself and cried, like, right out in public and stuff. I am sure the waiter was concerned.

Hoo wee! That is all. Have a lovely week!

This and That

By this point in my week, my thoughts are no longer cohesive. So, you get Weird Lady Brain Potpourri today! Aren't you so excited?

I saw the security at a drug store totally nab a shoplifter today! They chased this guy out onto the street (there were TWO officers! Like Chips! Only nothing like Chips!), and tackled his ass, and then cuffed him, and then pulled up his shirt and bam! There was a shiny new Bic pen pack tucked in the guy's waistband. Bad boys, bad boys, what you gonna do when they come for you? And your Bic pen pack?

Yesterday, I made the executive decision to eat ice cream for lunch. The perks of being a grown up! I can decide to eat ice cream for lunch! And then well. I felt shitty for the rest of the afternoon. Grown-up-ness: proving less than awesome once again.

I have had a week full of bad hair days and I am not above telling you that this seriously bums me out.

I bought new glasses, and although I loved them in the store, I now have a fear that I went straight into Velma from Scooby Doo land. Jinkies!

I bought plane tickets for an end-of-summer vacation, using mileage that made the entire thing free. Is there any better feeling than that? I do not know of one.

Biogirl made up a totally disgusting sexual term called "dental spelunking." I love that girl.

Speaking of disgusting, my office chair at work has started doing this thing where every time I swivel, it makes a farty noise. Class out the ass, people.

Last weekend Biogirl and I went to Bellingham for the afternoon. It was the prettiness.

Where every reference I make is over 20 years old

What happened to July? Gone, in a puff of Doug Henning type smoke.

Why lead with a Doug Henning line? I don't know.

You know what I have had lately? A bad attitude. Just a crusty, janky, uncalled for crap outlook. I am not a moody sort, so when I get into a bonafide mood, I feel not myself and just...weird. Well, a different weird than my normal weird. I need, as the drive-time deejays used to say (and maybe still say?) an attitude adjustment. But is there anything that will make you feel less like having a better attitude than the words "attitude adjustment?" Prolly not. I have been soothing myself by binge-watching old Mad Men episodes in the evenings and having internal debates on which cast of characters- the Mad Men people or the Game of Thrones people-- have a more difficult time keeping their junk to themselves. I mean, seriously, it should be Unclad Men. Or Game of Bones. I know I am not the first person to say that, but in my mind? I am still hilarious.

Oh hey, you know what else happened? I had a Leonard Nimoy sighting. I do not know why this seems mention-worthy, because there is no accompanying story or anything, but still. My eyeballs rested on Spock. Well, not my eyeballs. My eyeball rays rested on him. I am sure he would be proud of me about this description, as it points to my obvious understanding of science, for which, to quote Peter Cetera, he's the ins-pee-ration.

Doug Henning, Peter Cetera, Leonard Nimoy. Ooh, me so timely!

(That was a little 2 Live Crew there, just to add to the currency). I am meta-outdated!

I went to this party last weekend (I really cannot be bothered with transitions and segues right now), and the friend who was throwing it had the most gorgeous yard. Le sigh. Some day I will have a yard where I can throw parties and guests will tell other people how pleasant my yard is, right?

Fifthly (yes, I am counting the Doug Henning thing as a topic), I feel that I am the only person I know that is not watching the Olympics. I hear that the commentating is as irritating as ever though, so that's nice. I remember every time the Olympics were on, my entire life, my family would gather around the tv for the parade of nations and wait for the Fiji team (all 2 of them, usually) to get their turn in the spotlight and then it would happen and the commentators would be all "Fiji, yep...NEXT" and we would always feel crestfallen, even though we knew it was coming.

I am going to Vancouver BC in the great land of Canadia this weekend. Anyone have any recommendations on where to go, what to eat, stuff to see? I have a whole lot of nothing planned, so I need help. Bring it, if you please.

When next I post, I promise you a new attitude.

(Imagine the Patti LaBelle video here, because embedding the link is being a bastard).

Consumables #63

I am back from New York City, which really should be called New York Walkie (get it? city? sitty? Ha ha haaaa I am clever just shut up). I packed this trip to the total gills, people. From sun up to way past sun down I was on the move, taking it all in. The result? I am back doing the work/home thing with a cold, which I crashed with as soon as I got home. But you know what? Worth it.

So instead of my usual Consumables, I shall tell you some things I did on my trip. I don't know that it really makes sense as a Consumable post, but it's my bloggy and I'll be nonsensical if I want to. Ready? Ok. In no particular order:

Guggenheim Museum: Best museum in which to stage a chase scene for a movie, right? Thankfully Nordic Boy and I restrained ourselves.

Brooklyn Bridge: We walked across on a blustery day and got lots of photos of us with crazy hair standing straight up.

World Trade Center Memorial: I am convinced that I would have thought this even if I hadn't known where I was: the design of the park, especially the water features, was really sad. It made me think about design and how the combination of water and stone and shapes were put together so artfully to evoke sadness. I found it amazing.

Book Expo: This was the work-related reason I was in New York. The highlight was getting to see this panel of authors: Junot Diaz, Barbara Kingsolver, Jo Nesbot, and Stephen Colbert. Each one of them were interesting, funny, compelling, and inspiring.

Center for Architecture: We saw some architectural concept drawings the blew my frigging mind. Plus, we were in Felicity country which made me want to sing "hah-dee-hay-ho" in a somber voice the entire time. I didn't though. At least not out loud.

Times Square half-price Broadway ticket booth: This was the very first time that Nordic Boy had ever been to Times Square for realsies. It's sort of amazing to watch someone take in all the gaudy.

Museum of Arts and Design: I loved just about everything I saw here, including this guy's work, and also these smoke paintings.

Phantom of the Opera: Embrace the cheese! We did.

Wall Street: I still can't believe that they stand on the floor of the NYSE and lose their shit like that, like, as a real thing.

Battery Park: It's so "Desperately Seeking Susan" there.

Chelsea Market: The gelato. Oh honey.

The Highline: We walked it with blog friend Annie! Who I guess can be referred to as a real-life friend since we have hung out in the non-internets several times now.

Metropolitan Museum of Art: A special exhibit comparing Prada clothes and Schiaparelli clothes. Magically delicious!

Blog-friend-turned-real-friend Maddie took us to dinner and then to a standup show in an unmarked room in the back of a bar. There was only room for like 30 people in there, and the lighting in the waiting area was spooky, with red light bulbs and a scary black door. I am glad Maddie was not trying to murder us, because that would have been a total bummer. Turns out that behind that door were SNL writers and Kristen Schaal and other such people being super funny, for free. It was like a private show just for us. Only it wasn't. It just felt like it was.

A delish dinner with Maddie and yet-another blog/real friend, Rachel. Awesome people everywhere!

Window shopping in Nolita was also notable. I couldn't afford anything but the clothings sure was purty.

Plus, we ate a lot. Like a lot a lot.

So, all in all New York City gave me a long, hot, sloppy kiss. And I groped back.

This is a story about control

Hey guys, guess what? My week has been stone cold shitty. (And wow, can we just marvel at the awesome disgustingness of that phrase? Shit that is stone cold. Ew! And also, ha ha). I know that I don't get all up into the details about this part of my life, but I think you all know that my dad isn't great health-wise and hasn't been so for a few years now. It goes up and down, but when it's down it is way, way down. Like, death's door has been knocked on more times than I can count. Thankfully, so far he's come through, but it's painfully obvious that it's just a hair's width away from the outcome being very different. Every time we're in one of those times (like now), I think: ok, is this it? Is this the time that I lose my beloved pops? Because my pops is truly my beloved. My mom is my backbone and my dad is my heart, is the clearest way I can put it. They are the two best human beings I have ever encountered. I know, it's annoying, I'm one of those people. Anyway, this week is one of those times where things look really bad. There is a lot of waiting. Things change by the hour. It's horrible, but also every hour, every day that he's still here, still with me, I feel so grateful.

So anyway, I don't mean to get into the details about that, but I just have to tell you all something, on a related tip, as the kids say, in the hopes that you will take it forward into your life and remember it when you know someone who is in the state that I am in now. I know I am about to say something that has been said, many many times, but the reason it's said so many times is because apparently no one listens when it's said, ever. Which makes me think no one's going to listen to me either, so crap. Oh well, here it is anyway. Ready? Ready for some unoriginal Dear Abby bullshizz? Here it comes.

When people are having devastating times? Giving them advice (ie telling them what to do) does not help them.

I know, REVELATORY. However, trust me on this. People are confused about this point. I would like to point out, before I go on, that I know people mean well. They are good people, trying to find the right thing to say in a bad situation. All the more reason that I would like to be helpful about what might not be the right thing to say. Rest assured that if you do say the following things, I know that you're doing the best you can and I appreciate that.

So, like a very badly produced training video, let's go through some scenarios, shall we?

You: I can't believe you are still here, at work! You should be home. Why are you here? What is wrong with you? You are carrying on with your life! You are obviously dead inside. Beep-boop-boop, you effing robot.

I am not comforted! Try again, please.

You: Have you cried yet? How often have you cried? You are so put together! You should be crying! Why aren't you crying? CRY LADY CRY NOW.

Nope! Your demands for sobbing as proof of sadness does not bring succor to the forlorn. Give it another go?

You: My dog/friend/parent/sibling died a few years ago. I didn't go to her while she was sick, and then she died, and I wasn't there, and I have regretted it ever since. If you do not go to your loved one's side immediatemente before they go kaput, you shall rue the rest of your life. And also that would make you a horrible heartless human. Are you packing your bags yet? Get on the plane, asshole.

I am so sorry that you have been through this, because this is awful. Oddly, I do not feel better from your speechifying. Weird.

I guess we all know this (but really, I have evidence that we don't all know this), but everyone's experience is different. We all cope in different ways. We all are doing the best we can. And for every choice we make when we're in the middle of a shitstorm, there are probably better choices we could make, or worse choices we could make. Telling someone their choice is wrong does not help them. At least it doesn't help me.

Each and every time the shit hits the fan (the stone cold shit, obvs) for my pops, I have to deal with it how I deal with it, which means, for me, that I look it right in the face and I don't blink. That's just my way, it's how I was raised, it's what feels right to me, and my dad of all people would understand that better than anyone. The situation sucks, but all there is for me to do is eat it, face it, talk about it with my closest peeps, and keep living my life, even when I am marinating in sadness and worry. I have to pay my bills, and go to work, and make sure I eat, and try to laugh sometimes, and let myself sleep a lot, and kiss my honey, and get weepy whenever I get weepy. Partly, that's really hard- sometimes almost impossible to do- and partly, it's all that keeps me together, to have to do those things. I figure, all I can do is listen to what my brain/body/soul needs and do that. And trust me, that's what I'm doing. I'm sorry it's not your way, and I'm sure your way is good too. It's just not mine.

So just do me this solid: next time you talk to someone who is having a devastating time, don't tell them what to do. Don't tell them what you did, or what you think you would do. Don't fight the shittiness with advice and wanting to control this or the discomfort you feel that you know about the situation and you feel like you have to say something to diffuse your discomfort. Just look at their eyes and take in the sorrow that's happening, with them.

And to the people who do that for me: you're amazing.

I guess I just gave some advice about not giving advice. Let's ignore the irony.

Soy sauce? More like no doy sauce!

Hey, here's a bad idea. White dress, sushi for lunch, soy sauce. Yet I'm about to do this.

New York Grub

I can't believe I ate the whole thing.

It's what's for dinner

You heard me.

Waiting

It's late. I'm tired and happy. New York kinda likes me, I think. Gotta go, here comes my ride.

Operation Outta Here

This week was weird. So, I haven't felt much like writing.

However! I am perking back up, and just in time, because Nordic Boy and I are leaving on a jet plane tomorrow for York de la Nouveau. I'm ready for some joy.

Photos and commentary will be forthcoming aplenty.

Go hug your loved ones. That is all.


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