VIP Weekend

How was your weekend? Blah blah, yeah, let's talk about mine.


I had a weekend that felt like weeks, which was just what I have been needing lately. I love long summer days with nothing to do but eat bon bons in the breeze. Maybe it's because I work weekend days a lot but there is something about two glorious days off in a row that just seem magical to me.

We kicked off the weekend by attending a surprise birthday party for Delium. With Delium's brother at the helm, we had all been hatching this surprise party plot for weeks, and not to put forth any impressions of our group as blabby gabby types, but it was kind of astonishing that we all pulled the surprise off. He was so surprised, I was a tad afraid his ticker would give out.

The party was in the VIP section of a club that Delium's friend owns. Ooh la la, we are in a private section above the crowd wearing our fanciest pinafores. Here's the thing about the VIP second floor terrace. On all the reality shows, that depict, you know, REALITY? The Kardashians or Lindsey Lohan (um, the definition of "VIP," obviously), you are interested in seeing co-mingle with their fancy drinks, and they always take a moment to lean over the balcony of the VIP section and raise up their glasses and say "whoooo!" and the entire sweaty dance floor masses raise up their hands and say "whooooo!" back. It is, like, the official VIP salute. And don't say that it's only because they are famous that they get the whooo salute. I was watching Holly's World the other day (yes I was WHAT OF IT) and her best friend had a birthday party and she raised her glass and got a full dance floor whooo even though no one knows who the heck she is.

I am here to tell you that no one in that club once even looked up at the terrace. In fact it is safe to say they didn't give a rat's ass about the terrace. You can raise your glass all you want to. They really don't care to whooo while they get their drinky dance on. Just one more brick falling out of the reality tv wall. Dang.

The other weird thing was that we got to have the entire club to ourselves for an hour before it opened, just to up the VIP vibe to the whole thing, and so we could scream out SERPRYZE in a semi-quiet room before crowds of people show up. I don't know that I have ever been in an empty club like that before. It was kind of eerie.

Anyway, the party was a blast and the guest of honor was surprised, and people ate chocolate cake with their mixed drinks in honor of our fair Delium, god bless him.

The rest of the weekend, we proceeded to eat a lot and walk all over my city. It rained, but it was a warm, muggy summery rain which I didn't mind in the slightest because I could still wear dresses with no leggings and not wear a coat over it to mar the whole outfit, and honestly I am not ashamed to say that in my world that counts for maybe 70% of my mood.

I went to the movies, I ate five incredible meals (yuzu lemonade is a frickin' delight), I went to not one, but two architectural salvage stores (why is junk so awesome?), I read a whole novel in one sitting (can't remember the last time I did that), I hung out with my bestie, I took a nap, I called long distance folks and friends, and I hiked around downtown, Ballard, Belltown, Sodo, Greenlake and the U District.  How is it possible that I was that busy, but yet got so much rest, all in one weekend? Because weekends are magic.

Consumables #24

First of all, thank you guys so much for all the silly stuff you sent me after my Festival of Whines the other day. You so funny!


I shall start out the Consumables with some weirdo clip that Leah posted to the blog comments. Really, what can you say about this? Nothing.

Stone Reader
Geeky book lover's documentary. A dude's favorite book is written by an author no one seems to have heard of, and who never wrote another thing, so he goes on a quest to find him. You will either really like this or be so bored you'll want to cry. No middle ground.

The Matrix
I've been half-watching movies that are showing on tv, and this was on this week. Neo and Trinity, the most stone-faced lovers in all of pop culture, yes?

Photos, by Sammy Davis Jr.
Frank, Dean, Marilyn, Lauren, Betty, Shirley, just everyone looking glamorous and gorgeous. Mm, mm, mm.

And some songs that got me through the week...

Babelonia, by School of Seven Bells

Swoon, by The Chemical Brothers
(I know they are not really saying this, but I like to sing along during the bridge by saying "here's mud in your eye" because doesn't that sound like what they are saying)?

Tightrope, by Janelle Monae

Sunny, by Ella Fitzgerald

I plan to take the weekend by the balls, and I suggest you do the same, everyone.  Happy Friday!

Total Librarian

Me, watching "A League of Their Own" (shut up) on tv.

The scene comes on where slutty Mae (played by Madonna) is teaching her illiterate teammate how to read, using a pulpy sex novel.

Teammate: (reading from the book)...he clutched at her silky, white bosom...
Other teammate: MAE! What is she reading??
Mae: Who cares? She's reading, ain't she?


Nordic Boy: Madonna's a total librarian in this.
Me: Totally.

Sir Delium, Birthday Man

Today is my friend Delium's birthday. You may know Delium as the guy with the leisure pants, or the guy with the awesome helpy skills, or the guy who pulls planes around, but he's so much more than that. Delium has been an awesome friend to Nordic Boy and me for all of our adult lives. Let's list some of his awesomisity, shall we?


1. I met Delium as a freshman in college, when we were both cast in a play together. We cracked each other up immediately. Literally, within 5 minutes of our audition, we were insta-friends.

2. We dated for a short while and when I think of the drama that we put each other through it's kind of a goddamn miracle that we were still friends after that mess. Really, it was such a mess. I am not even joking you. HUGE mess. Have I emphasized enough how much of a mess it was? Ok. But after it was over, we were all, "I still think you're cool." And that was that. We totally became Jerry and Elaine after that, sort of seamlessly.

3. Delium is probably the busiest person I have ever known. He has a full-time job, he acts in plays, he does improv, he does voiceovers, he dances, he plays tennis, he does yoga, the list goes on and on. And yet, he's a person that we have always called in a crisis. He's always there when we need him, somehow.

4. Nordic Boy and Delium have what I think is the funniest friendship on earth. It's like they are Bert and Ernie. They are so very different, but get along so well. I think they would make a great reality show. Their adventures together could definitely be termed hijinks.

5. And ok, fine, over the years Delium has grown to love Nordic Boy a little bit more than he loves me. Nordic Boy doesn't have as many friends as me, but when he does have them, they always love him more. I even recently found out that in Delium's life, Nordic Boy is his In Case of Emergency person. Not me, even though I have known him longer. I have put in the time! And not me since I am the one who is always in town and available if needed, whereas Nordic Boy is often away on business. Oh no. It had to be Nordic Boy. That lovable bastard.

6. Delium is one of the few people (there are only 4) in my life that I can say anything to. I mean anything. Unconditional, he is.

7. Delium is known for his falls. He can do a grand fall down like nobody's business. This is something he shares in common with Biogirl. I don't know why my best friends have talent in the falling down skills. Sometimes, when they hang out, they have conversations about their falls. "So, have you had any crazy falls lately?" "Why, yes. Yes I have."

8. One time, years ago, Delium had a free gift certificate for a family portrait. I don't know who's idea it was (probably his), but we thought it would be funny to go get a photo taken together. Me, him, and Nordic Boy, our little family. It started out as a "ha ha, wouldn't it be funny if we did that" thing, and quickly escalated to where we actually went and did it. We got dressed up and went to this studio, and not one of us said A WORD about what our relationship was to each other. That poor photographer was SO CONFUSED. Was I a couple with one of these boys? Were the two boys a couple? Were we siblings or something? That dude had no idea how to pose the three of us. The result is a FUCKING HILARIOUS photo that the photographer came up with, of Nordic Boy and I seated next to each other, and Delium standing behind/above us, encircling us both with his hands on our shoulders like a proud papa with his two little babies. The photo makes no sense whatsoever. It is comedy gold.

9. Delium is, through and through, a good, solid, fun, friggin' hilarious, talented, A-1 tip top friend. I don't even really think of him as my friend. I just think of him as a part of my family. He's closer to me than my own brothers, truly. I can't imagine what it would be like to not have him around.

10. Yay, Delium! Happy birthday, you old goat.

Foggy and Soggy

Just another cozy winter's day in August.

Week of Nice, Commence!

Hey there, Stressy McFreakedout here. Just wanting to let you know how this week is going to go, ok? Just some tips for you on how to help a lady out.


First of all, do not bring up the following things as they relate to me: illness of a family member, possible loss of job, library budgets, mortgages, refinancing, health insurance, and possible death of those close to me, especially kids and the elderly. Or hows about we just steer clear of death as a topic regarding any of my loved ones? Kay? Thanks.

Even if you think you're being helpful, just don't ask about any of that. If I want to talk about it, I will let you know. (Special note to Mom: every time we talk on the phone, you don't need to say "so have you found out if you're laid off yet?" I love you Mom, but that is DRIVING ME BATTY).

None of these things are new topics in my life. I am well-versed on the family long term illness one, for example. But last week the planets aligned in just such a way as to make me FREEEEEEK OWWWWT, even though there really isn't a ton of new news on that front, other than yep, things continue to suck in an ever-increasing spiral of doom. I know the freaking out is because I am tired, and if I could get a good night's sleep that would help me get back to my regularly scheduled programming of deep breathing and yukking it up Despite It All.

Which brings me to my next request. If you could arrange my life in such a way for me, so as to make it that I can get to bed at a reasonable hour and sleep until I am done sleeping, that would be gosh-awful nice of you. And if you are a new parent who is way more sleep-deprived than me, try not to punch me in the face for even asking this of you.

Also, conversations about kitties, puppies, and cotton candy are always welcome. Off-color humor is also fully acceptable.

The other thing? Don't tell me that I look tired. I know I look tired. Telling me that doesn't make me feel less tired. Also, don't point out to me that you see more gray hair on my head. That one actually happened to me last week and I wonder where someone went to charm school, with commentary like that.

The thing that I hate the worst about stress? Besides, you know, the fact that it stresses me out? Is that it makes my world SO VERY SMALL. I just think about me, me, me. It just gets reedickaless.

So, to combat the overwhelming me-ness of last week, I am declaring this the Week of Nice. I am going to do something nice for the people I care about. Send a card, make some cookies, call them up, show up at their door with an interpretive dance set to Three Times a Lady. Just something. So, friends, spotlight on you.

I am also declaring this the Week of Sleepytimes. Just because I deserve a little Nice too.

Curse Sir Walter Raleigh

You know that Beatles song? I'm So Tired? Why were they talking about Sir Walter Raleigh in that song? Anyone know? Is this something all the cool people know and I just never heard about it? Do tell, cool people.

All of my close peeps are so tired, ya'll. And when exhausted, they say some funny things.


#1:
Nordic Boy: We should go see that new new movie.
Me: Which one?
Him: You know, that one with Paul Rudd and Steve Carrell in it.
Me: Oh, yeah. Sure.
Him: What is it called again? Lunch with the Stupids?
Me: Dinner for Schmucks. Although I would totally go see something called Lunch with the Stupids too.

#2:
Nordic Boy: Save that interview show on the DVR for me.
Me: Which one?
Him: Larry Rose. He's interviewing Michael Kline.
Me: Um, you mean Charlie Rose? Interviewing Kevin Kline?
Him: That's the one.
Me: Oh my god, go to bed.

#3:
Delium: Have you guys seen that new church in the University District? The one with the really sad name?
Me: I don't think so.
Him: Oh you would remember it if you saw it. It has a name that's strange. A name that sounds depressing.
Me: No, I haven't seen it.
Him: It's like, The Church of the Unwanted Shits.
Me: What????
Him: Or something like that. I guess that's not it. But something like that.

Consumables #23

Dudes, I am so tired this week it hurts to type. Nordic Boy and I got buck wild with the home improvements and then on top of that there were other added stressors that were hella depressing and hectic and you add that all up and you've got brain deaditis. BLAH BLOO BLEE BLAH.*


The other day, Nordic Boy and I were working on the house, and the evening daylight was almost up and we weren't as far along on our project as we wanted. He turned to me at one point and said, and I quote, "Well, we can do as much as we can on this part now, and then in the twilight we can caulk."

In the twilight we can caulk. He's got the heart of a poet, that one.

So today, I am going to do Consumables a day early, because I just do not have one iota of energy to do anything else. Because of all the harried times over here, I haven't been consuming all that much in terms of movies and tv and the like. I heard that Snookie rang the bell at the NYSE and that President Obama was on The View and I ask you what sort of backwards up-is-down world are we living in? Because that seems like a pop culture switcheroo if I ever heard one.

So, no movies or tv this week, although we did limp into our house last night and make ourselves a sad, sad dinner of spaghetti made with undoctored sauce out of a bottle at 10pm, and tried to keep our eyes open while chewing half-heartedly by watching The Big Lebowski on tv. I thought working really hard, physically, was supposed to release endorphines or something and make you feel better about your troubles. And that tv was supposed to deaden the mind. Neither one of these, I am here to tell you, is true. Hopefully things will get better soon. Because this aggression will not stand, man.

Ok, so. Consumables.

The Silver Linings Playbook
The book jacket review blurb says "hilarious." It was good, but not hilarious. I found it quite melancholy with sardonic/witty overtones, which does not mean hilarious. Still, it was good. There was a large portion of the story that revolves around football and rabid football fans, and these are usually things that will make me fall dead asleep so if I still say it was good despite that, you should know that it was quite a good book.

While we have been working outside, we have plugged in Pandora and listened to some random stuff. Here's what has stuck in my brain.

Mistadobolina
There was a point where Nordic Boy was using his nailgun in exact rhythm with this song. And really, how could you not?

Living In Oblivion, by Anything Box
Oh, the early 90s. Thems was good times.

Never There, by Cake
I have a friend who used to date a dude in Cake, and after she told me about the dicky behavior I said I wouldn't listen to them anymore. That's right, SISTERHOOD, baby. They came on Pandora this weekend, and I just let it play. Does this constitute betrayal? Really, I was on a ladder in the middle of staple-gunning the shit out of my house. But I feel guilty about it.


I Put My Hand in There
My friend Jenny has a thing for Johnny Depp. I know, so do a lot of people. But she really does have a history with Johnny infatuation, all the way back to 21 Jump Street. I know, so do a lot of people. Just, in my world, I associate her with him. She also, completely separate from this, does a very uncanny Carol Channing impression. And how could you not love a girl like that? This week, this news story came out where it is being said that Johnny Depp's dream role would be to play Carol Channing. How weird is that? It's like Jenny's dream come true. Johnny AS Carol. Too much to bear. This news story made me get this song in my head and it just will not stop. And like many classic songs from musicals, the innuendo is strong, but really, Carol Channing? "Twist a little, turn a little, him a little, her a little, pressure with the thumbs, matrimony comes when, I put my hand in there!" Oh dear.
 
*tm _lovechild

Home Improvement with my Homies

Crazy stuff happened in home improvement land this weekend.

1. The troops once again descended onto our homestead to help us with our shenanigans. Biogirl and Delium clocked in umpteen hours working on that mothereffer of a house of ours. Best. Friends. Ever. I really love those guys so much.

2. Delium, Biogirl and I went into the backyard to mess with the eaves of our house, which was one of the many projects underway. When we went back there, we left Nordic Boy with a big hole where the exterior wall of our house once was. A chunk had been taken out there, for reasons that are too long to explain. When we took a water break an hour later? There was a fricking wall there. A beautifully framed out, wall of perfection. Right there. That Nordic Boy effing made by hisself. SO FAST. The three of us had barely gotten ourselves set up at that point. It's good that he is so understated because that shit could start to get show-offy after a while.

3. Nordic Boy has a pair of vintage 50's safety glasses. I LOVE THEM. I am sort of jealous of them, actually. This weekend, I got to wear them. I felt like a cross between a mad scientist and Milton the Stapler Guy.

4. There were three ladders in use all weekend, plus one large bucket that was being used as a stepstool. The four of us were going up and down these ladders every five minutes like we were moles in that Whack a Mole game. At one point someone started to sing a background song, and we all agreed that we could pitch our ladder choreography to Cirque du Soleil as an addition to their show. Granted we were all punchy and semi-dehydrated at that point of the day, but at the time it seemed entertaining to us.

5. Delium did an unfortunate ladder dance (similar to a pole dance) on top of one of the ladders at one point, which my elderly neighbor Maggie just might have witnessed. Hopefully she was enticed, rather than weirded out.

6. When Nordic Boy and I first met when I was a teeny tiny teenager baby 19 years of age, he worked at a big fancy theatre. He was like the Doogie Howser of set carpentry then- this young guy in charge of making sets and in charge of crews of people twice his age. I was in awe of him and his talent and although I was totally intimidated by him, I hid it well (ACTING!) and confidently talked to him. As an intern, I was assigned to help him work for a time, and I remember the first thing he taught me how to do was to use a chalk line. This weekend, I was helping him at one point, and we busted out that chalk line again. He held one end and I held the other, and when he said "you want to snap it, or should I?" I looked across at him and my stomach flipped a little. It sort of blew my mind that we were here, so many years later, working on our home together. It really does seem like a few days ago that I was trying to get him to eat lunch with me at that theater.

Look at me, feeling the romance over a chalk line. Shut up, I'm tired, ok?

Consumables #22

Reel Paradise

I was not a big fan of this. It's been sitting on my Netflix queue forever and I just kept putting off watching it because I knew it would piss me off. I shall spare you my thoughts on cultural imperialism and just say (and you may quote me on this): BARF.

The Bachelorette
Just when I thought I was out, THEY PULLED ME BACK IN. I haven't watched all season, but I did watch the last two episodes and I can't even believe how mind-numbingly boring these people are. Why do I want to watch boring people vying for each other's boring affection? I'll tell you why. It's because they go on "overnight dates" and use funny euphemisms for making the sex. "I am just really looking forward to having alone time with Ali. So that we can really relax. And just get to know each other more deeply." "I really want Chris to put himself out there tonight. I just really need to see who he is." What is it with the "putting himself out there," people? So many times with the "putting himself out there"! Apparently, it is the main thing one looks for in a mate. Perhaps we should be incorporating this into our vows to each other. "Do you promise to always love, honor, and put yourself out there?"

Zookeeper's Wife by Diane Ackerman
I am not usually impressed by celebrity. Large or small. Hot movie star, or brainiest professor on campus? Whatever. If you are the person that everyone talks about and oohs and ahhs over, this will most likely cause me to be skeptical of you. When I was in the THEE-AH-TAH!, the big stars that came in that everyone went googoo for? They were straight up assholes. Like, 99% of the time. So although I don't think celebrity/popularity makes you an ass, I do think the liklihood is higher. So in the library world, the biggest celebrity is a little lady by the name of Nancy Pearl. If you have ever seen the Librarian Action Figure, it is based on her. Also, you may hear her on NPR's Morning Edition or other egghead places like that, reviewing books and talking about other librarianish things. To the non-librarian, she is pretty unknown. To the librarian, she is more beloved than Shel fucking Silverstein. When she shows up to conferences and stuff, people go all atwitter. Therefore, my natural inclination toward her should be one of gaggy eye-rolling. However, in this case, I must make an exception to my skepticism. Because Nancy is the nicest lady you will ever meet in your life. Really, she is. Anyway, I got to have a long meeting with her and other colleagues this week and it was nothing but delightful. And we talked about many books, The Zookeeper's Wife being among them. So I read it this week. Which is a really roundabout way for me to talk about nice Nancy Pearl, the semi-celebrity who is unequivocally not a fuckface.

This Is It
I can't think about this title without going to the bad Kenny Loggins place. "THIS IS IT! Make no mistake where you ahhhh...."  So this documentary is just a bunch of clips of Michael Jackson rehearsing, and he is clearly only performing at about 25% effort, because it's just rehearsing. And yet, me, um, riveted. Must have been the dormant 6th grader in me who would pay money to watch Michael Jackson mow his lawn. Wait, I guess Michael Jackson wouldn't have mowed his lawn though. Well, I would have watched him make Bubbles mow it then, or something. Oh whatever.

Big Eden
Ok, so the ending was a little cheesy, but still. I thought it was sweet.

Thursday already?

Random ephemera from my life this week...

1. Yes, I just said "ephemera from my life," like a big pretentious asshole.

2. You might be aware of the fact that my aesthetic runs toward minimal. I am not a keeper of things, and clutter drives me crazy. I don't think that having things is really my issue- I think I am more of an organization nut that anything else. If things that I own have a place, neat and tidy, then I am happy with keeping them. Anyway. This is just a preface to say that my policy of giving shit away has always been a good thing in my life, overall. Except for twice. Once, a couple of months ago, when we were making tabbouli salad and hummus, and Nordic Boy was all "um, where is our food processor?" and I was all, "don't look at me, how would I know?" and then I realized that I had given it away. To Goodwill. Because we hadn't used it in a couple of months. So we had to go buy a new one. Nordic Boy chose not to give me shit about this, because he is good people. Then, a few weeks ago, he and I were going to go for a run after work together. And then I was all "where are my running shoes?" and we looked high and low. And goddamn it, they were GONE. I think I tossed them into a give-away pile recently. It's the only explanation I can think of. Nordic Boy, again, did not give me shit about this. However, Biogirl did. And I so deserve it. Don't leave any of your crap with me because I will discard it, fools. Buh'lee dat.

3. A neighbor told us that his dog and a raccoon got into a fight the other night. What kind of crap is that? We are in the CITY, people. This ain't no Marlin Perkins situation we have going on around here. All I could think about was Jasper on Little House on the Prairie. And so what if my references are all from the 1970s right now? (The dog and the raccoon both walked away from this fight unharmed overall, by the way, but I bet they are both hella pissed).

4. The other night, I was asleep in my bed (all alone, without Nordic Boy, woe is me), and the oscillating fan that we had propped up in the corner? TURNED ON BY ITSELF. Woke me up, scared me so bad my nuts pulled up, and I still can't figure out how it happened. Clearly I have dead people hanging out in my house and they are sweaty, hot dead people who want me to turn the fan on. Poltergeist! GAH.

5. I got ma'am'ed at work yesterday. Doesn't happen all that often, but when it does? Ouch.

6. You know I am one to joke about just about anything, but Mel Gibson jokes? Not funny to me. Just in case you were thinking about telling me a Mel Gibson joke.

7. Nordic Boy says that he might get to stay home for work EVERY NIGHT next week. Although he was careful to say "might" I am now officially taking it as fact. If anyone at his work undoes this now, I will have to cut someone.

8. There are many things at work that require my signature. No one ever gets my Henry Blake references when I try to use them in those situations. I fear I am becoming one of those bosses that tells bad jokes continually, hoping someone will laugh.

That's all I got.

Carry on my wayward sons.

Hair Drama

Delium came over AGAIN and rocked out with the help for like 6 or 7 hours this weekend. Now he is just gunning for Friend of the Year, methinks.

It's funny to have people over while you are doing something with your partner that you would normally only do without other people there. (Dirty!) Ok, this time I just mean that we were working on the house together with Delium there. Nordic Boy and I have been together for so long now that we pretty much have communication down pat and so working together does not raise ire or frustration or cause bickering that we need to quash in front of outsiders. And I am glad of that, because really, what is worse than being stuck at someone's house as a guest and hearing that mess from your couple-friends? So although the bickering doesn't happen, we do have quirky ways that we communicate, and having an audience can be kind of funny.

(Me, working with Delium).
Me: Where's Nordic Boy?
Delium: I think he went in the house for a drink of water.
Me: Oh. (hesitation)
Delium: Do you need something?
Me: Yeah. I, uh, just need to go express something for a second.
Delium: Oh. Um, ok. Go for it.
Me: (yelling) NORDIC BOY??
NB: (through the open kitchen window) YEAH??
Me: I COULDN'T FIND MY PONYTAIL HOLDER TODAY!
NB: WHERE DID YOU LAST HAVE IT?
Me: I CAN'T REMEMBER! MY HAIR IS IN MY FACE. IT'S MAKING ME MAD.
NB: (sounds of footsteps. Rustling of things. Drawers opening and closing).
(NB comes out of the house with a small ponytail holder).
Me: Thanks, but not that one. That one won't hold my hair. My hair is too thick.
NB: Oh. (Starting to go back into the house).
Me: You don't have to go search for it or anything. I just wanted to tell you I was mad about my hair. You don't need to fix it. I just wanted to tell you about it.
NB: Ok. You sure? I can get a barrette. How about a clip?
Me: No, really- no solution necessary. I just wanted to tell you.
NB: Ok.
Me: I feel better now.
(pause)

Delium: And that, ladies and gentlemen, is your demonstration of Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus. Thank you for watching.
Me: Shut up.
Delium: You guys are weird.
Me: Get back to work.

Consumables #21

This week I could not take reading, watching, listening to ANYTHING that wasn't silly. I just couldn't.


Planet of the Apes (1968 version)
Nordic Boy and I, because we are old fogeys, still frequent our local video rental store quite often. You know those buildings? Where there are actual shelves with dvds on display? And you walk in a door and rent them? Yeah, we still do that. And for years and years, we have had a running joke. Whenever I am being indecisive about what movie I want, and I just keep wandering around and around gathering armloads of movies when we really need to narrow down to just one, Nordic Boy has a failsafe phrase to get my ass moving. "You better pick one or we are just getting Planet of the Apes and that's that." And I go into a panic and pick a movie out immediately. I don't know what it is about the threat of Planet of the Apes, but it works. This tactic has been used for at least 10 years. This week, I noticed Planet of the Apes on Netflix streaming, and fired that sucker up. And though I hadn't seen it in a million years, the lines were burned in my brain to the point where I could recite along with it. Which actually isn't that hard, because Heston isn't exactly Shakespeare. "It's a mad house! A MAD HOUSE!"

Year One
Stupid ass Judd Apatow. I watch his movies and sort of go through the whole thing kind of being mad about the anti-lady-ness, and then the juvenile 14-year-old part of my brain kicks in and one or two things will just hit my funny bone for a second and it saves the whole experience. For instance:

Princess: (indicating a temple) I want you to enter the Holiest of Holies.

Jack Black: That's quite a coincidence, because I want you to sit on the Poliest of Polies.


We lost our shit laughing at that, I am not gonna lie.

Slap Shot
Many things not to like about this movie. But it's got Paul Newman. And also Strother Martin making a friggin' hilarious masturbation face.


For the love of Petey Wheat, I am Beavis AND Butthead this week. There is just no other excuse.

Classic jokes are still funniest

Me: I'm so lucky to have people in my life who really listen to me, you know? So thank you.

Biogirl: What?


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Food, trees, art, home

There were many things that made me frown, cringe, and feel slightly nauseated in the past few days. Rather than share those things, I shall share some things that made me smile.


Seattle Food Truck boom
The city of Seattle has made food distribution easier to do and thus, food trucks and food carts are flourishing. Gourmet ice cream, hotdogs, taco trucks, doughnut trucks, burgers, pizza, fish and chips, thai food, and more, all on wheels.

Country in the city
Last Friday night Nordic Boy and I took a hike around our city for over two hours, and at several points found ourselves in parks that seemed far, far away from any concrete and steel, even though we were steps away from it all the time.

Urban Craft Uprising
A gathering of artists who get together and sell their wares. It was heaven. I made a bunch of scores when I went this year, not the least of which was this cool shrinky dink mustachio necklace (look for it in the etsy shop called Passion Flower). While wearing it, you can even lift it up to your upper lip and it fits most faces perfectly. You know, in case you need a disguise at an unexpected moment.

Voicemail Songwriter Improv
I have friends who call me up and when I don't pick up, don't do anything other than sing a crazy song they made up, and then hang up. You know who you are, and I LOVE YOU.

Coming home

Walking in my front door at the end of my work day is among the best feelings in the world. But before I get to the front door, I walk up my front stoop, and then step onto my porch, and in that few seconds, I get a glimpse through my front window. Sometimes Nordic Boy is reading in there, sometimes he's in the kitchen whipping something up. But looking in my window, I know he's there somewhere and it's pretty rad.

I'm tired, so what?

Me: If you could do any dangerous/thrill-seeking activity and be guaranteed that you wouldn't get hurt, what would it be?

Nordic Boy: Mountain climbing.

Delium: Mine would be base jumping. No, wait. Dynamic Soaring. No, wait. I would time travel to dinosaur times and then get chased by a T-Rex.

Me: I never said time travel could be involved.

Delium: What about you?

Me: All of yours sound exciting and fun. But kind of hard. Too much effort. I think I would choose luge. Because you get to lie down for that.

Delium: I think you still have to put forth effort. To steer. Those Olympic Luge people aren't taking a nap in there, you know.

Me: Oh. Well, isn't there a style where I could just be a passenger? The real luge people could do the work. I could just ride along.

Delium: I don't think it works like that.

Me: You're just shitting on mine because I shut down your T-Rex thing.

 

Later...

Nordic Boy: So wow. You didn't even choose your adventure based on sitting down. You went for full on reclining.

Me: Yeah. I want thrills. But if I can lie down at the same time, it's a double win. Although the prospect of the not flattering outfit might outweigh the whole lying down thing. So I don't know.

Nordic Boy: You are a unique young lady.

Me: Just figuring that out?

Won't You Please, Please Help Me

I am constantly amazed at the number of people that I know that struggle, in large ways and small ways, and don't seem to want any help. What is going on around here, where people feel like they can't ask for help? Or even accept it when it's offered?


Ima go on record and say that I love getting help. And giving help. I don't see the downside either way. Well, I guess I don't like helping friends who only seem to take and take and would never think to reciprocate when I am in a jam. But if you're a person that only takes and never gives, that means you're kind of douchey. And I have a strict policy of cutting you the hell out of my life if you are douchey. Hence, I don't have any friends like that so that doesn't count.

When I typed "in a jam" right there? I accidentally typed "in a ham." I kind of like that better.

There are times when I have wondered if, when people seem like they really need help, and I offer and they don't respond, whether it's appropriate for me to just show up at their door. Aggressive helping, are we for this? I don't know. I haven't done that yet, but I have thought about it. There was a time when a friend of ours was having really serious home maintenance issues, and we knew about it, and they hadn't asked us for help, but they were drowning, so Nordic Boy just went over there and was all "here's how I am going to help you. I have my tools in the car and we're getting started today. What I can't fix, I will make a written plan for you of how to tackle the rest." BOSSY BRITCHES. But you know what? They wanted to cry they were so thankful that someone did that. But they wouldn't have asked.

So maybe bossy helpfulness is ok, sometimes. I just don't know if I have the balls to pull that off though. I have seriously thought about it, but never gone through with it. Have you?

I think the people that have the same giving methodology as mine are my friends Alli and Chis. They give and accept help all the time, no probs. I attribute this to our all being raised similarly, in the same environment. My friend The Soggy Librarian is another person who gets the whole giving/getting helpful thing. Now that she has her little sweet pea kiddo, I would totally go over there and do her dishes for her if she needed a nap or something. I guess what surprises me is the number of people that I know who would be appalled about a friend doing their dishes. No matter how tired, or buried in dishes, or exhausted-to-the-point-of-tears they were.

I am going on record right now to say that if I am crying over something like that? COME OVER AND DO MY DISHES. I will be grateful.

What got me thinking about this was my weekend. Over the weekend, Nordic Boy and I decided to do a very time-consuming house project. Outside. In the heat. And it had very specific time constraints. Nordic Boy is used to all of these conditions. I am, well, not so much. So after Saturday, where we stayed outside until about 10pm and we weren't even half way done with what I (not we) had mapped out for the weekend, I was exhausted.

Sunday morning, we got up and started working immediately. Really, Nordic Boy had told me there was no way we would get this project done in one weekend, but I wanted to believe. I was all Corey Hart: NEVER SURRENDER! By 11am, we had been working for four hours and I was tired and GRUMPY.

That's when Delium called to see what we were doing for lunch. And I was all LUNCH WE HAVE NO TIME TO EAT WE HAVE A PROJECT TO FINISH OMG IF THIS IS NOT DONE TODAY I WILL SHRIVEL UP AND THEN PERISH IN A BLAZE OF FURY.

To which he replied. "I am coming over."

And he did. He just came over and got to work. And worked with us until we all literally could barely stand up, we were so dirty and tired and sweaty and disgusting. Even though when he first got there I was using a snappy tone because I am an asshole sometimes. Even though he had work to do for his actual paying job. Even though he still had grocery shopping to do. Even though he also had dance rehearsal to go to later that I am sure he was exhausted for by the time he was done at our house. Even though we had nothing to offer him in the way of snacks. He came over, and clearly realized that I was at the end of my rope and distracted my grumpy mood all day while we worked by being funny and silly and delightful.

He's really a friggin' awesome friend to Nordic Boy and me. I wish more people were like him. And I hope I can be half as awesome as that to my peeps.

Next time someone is in a ham, go help them out, ok? Think about Delium and just go.

Also? I am so sore. Manual labor is hard.

Consumables #20

I swear to you I will get back to posting more than just Consumables starting next week. Because really, there is stuff happening in my life other than this. Sheesh.

In the meantime! This week:

Clash of the Titans (1981 version starring Sir Laurence Olivier opposite Harry Freaking Hamlin)
OUCH.

Flint #1: Choosing Sides
I saw this at the library, and how could I not read it? It's set in my own drrty ghetto fabulous hometown that I love so much. Prostitution! Basketball! Drug deals! Gang wars! Ah, I feel 16 again. Ha ha.What killed the whole thing was that the back of the book blurb tells you the whole dang story. Boo! I confess the thing I loved most about it was the design on the book cover that just had the signs for Interstate 75 and 475 on either side of the title. Holla!

This Is Just Exactly Like You, by Drew Perry
This was totally ruined for me because someone told me it was funny. Ready to laugh, I dove in. Um, whoever told me that, you are fired. If only I could remember who you are.

And lastly, I rocked out to this song while making breakfast this morning, because the sun shining in my windows just amped me the eff UP. Nordic Boy added in the background "Whoop" whenever needed. Yay summer!

I can see clearly now, the rain has gone

The week is whizzing by! Or taking a whiz by. Thoughts, musings, and perhaps a couple of actual happenings.
1. I am so grown up, you guys. It's true. I spend so much time doing grown up things, it kind of weirds me out. The other day, I was called upon to get information off of my homeowner's insurance, and I knew right where my policy was. This made me take a step back and realize that I have neat and organized files in my life. Of things like insurance, and 401k stuff, and shit like that. And I understand it. And I keep it nice and tidy and up to date. GAH.

2. It's supposed to be 92 degrees here today and I LOVE IT. I try to keep my jocularity quiet though because Seattle-ites will cut you if you are happy about the weather. Any weather. It is universally maligned, hot or cold. Seattle is not happy unless it is a perfect, hermetically-sealed bubble of 72.6 degrees with filtered sunlight and a 3 mile an hour breeze. Being from the Midwest, this seems nuts to me.

3. Let's talk about the dudes who yell out to ladies from cars, shall we? Dudes, what is that all about? What is the purpose of this activity? Approaching a lady, I get. Asking her for her phone number, I get. But driving by and yelling out the window some sort of poetic phrase such as "Aye, Mami!" or "Delicious, bay-beeee!" What IS THAT? What is that doing for you? What is the satisfaction? What is the response you would like? Really, it dumbfounds me.

4. Remember the town BioGirl and I concocted? I can't believe none of y'all told me about Dick Trickle. I think he might be the first real live person that can live in our town, and I totally forgot about him all this time. And then I remembered, and that made me think of Dick Butkus. Give those two immigration papers immediately! We need them in our town, now!

5. Have you noticed that on tv and in the movies, people seem to know when phone conversations are over and they just hang up without saying "goodbye"? Do you guys do that? I never do that. I always say bye to people on the phone. How are these tv people sure that they aren't hanging up on someone?

6. My Tivo always suggests that I watch "Kimora Lee Simmons: Life in the Fab Lane." I tried it last night and I couldn't get through it. And I think we all know me well enough by now to know that I can get through a lot of doodoo-caca in the medias. But that? No. Now I am sort of offended at my Tivo for thinking that I should watch that.

7. I did, however, watch an episode of "What Not To Wear" where they claimed that every man needed to own a pair of mandals. EVERY MAN. EVERYWHERE. MANDALS. That's all I'm going to say about that.

8. I am planning another upcoming Midwest trip and thinking about it makes me so excited I may or may not do a faux peepee dance without realizing.

Consumables #19

Consumables from last week, because I am just late with every last thing in my life these days.


Paperheart
Look up Funny and Adorable in the dictionary and Charlene Yi will be staring right back at you from the page.

Whatever Works
Another film about a cranky old guy who lands a beautiful and ditzy girl just this side of legal age who happens to adore the crankyness. OMG Woody Allen play a NEW TUNE, will you?

Shape of the Moon
I don't know how to explain this movie other than to say it follows a modern Indonesian family. And so many other things. It was slow, sad, big, and small.

So You Think You Can Dance
I was just glad that I didn't have to hear Mia Michaels say "Dance is not an art form, it's a HEART FORM," like she did the previous week. I didn't think I could miss Mary Murphy, but I actually think she was a better judge. Under all the screaming, that is.

Confessions of a Prairie Bitch
Didn't have the broader appeal of overall 80s pop culture (Brat Pack stories! Bruce Boxleitner romance! Billy Idol!) like Melissa Gilbert's memoir, but this one had more morsels for true Little House fans. Who else is going to tell you that Michael Landon wore pants so tight as Pa Ingalls that the cast and crew could tell when he was going commando? Whoa Nellie!

Smiley things

1. I was telling someone about this link that the effervescent Miss Davies had on her blog the other day, and the person I was talking to pointed out that I, apparently, do not say "McDonald's." I say Mack Donald's. With a heavy emphasis on the Mack. MACK Donald's. How is it that I have gone my whole life and no one has pointed out this ridiculousness to me? It seems that discussing Happy Meals and Chicken Nuggets turns me into an old man from the South. "What would like for dinner, Peepaw?" "Why, I do believe I would like me some Mack Donald's!"

2. I was at this training for work yesterday, and we were learning supervisory stuff (aka how to not be an asshole boss). At the end of the training, the trainer asked us some questions to review what we had learned. It was the end of an 8 hour class, and we were all totally beyond done. At this precise moment, I got called on to answer the question. The trainer said "What are the two tools that we discussed that all supervisors should have at the beginning of every year?" Me: Blank stare. Her: "They both start with a "p." Me: "Um, I don't know. Pride and Prejudice?" Everyone in the room almost puked from laughter. What did I learn at this training? Tired library types plus bad literary jokes equals GUTBUSTER.

3. Speaking of bosses, do you refer to your boss as "boss" right in front of them? As in "Let me introduce you to Joe. He's my boss." I don't know why, but that's funny to me. Why not say "supervisor" or "manager" or "library director" or "CFO" or whatever? "This is my boss" just sounds funny.

4. At my work, we have an automated system that moves books and other items around. You return your book, it goes onto a conveyer belt thing, the magic robot machine scans the book and knows where it should go next (back to another branch to reshelve? back to another location to fill a request for someone?), and then the book gets deposited in the correct bin to be taken to its next location. (See the Picture Picture style short demo here). Each of the bins has a little computer attached to it that can detach and attach to different bins as we work. We call these computers "brains." This name causes me no end of hilarity, because I get emails that say things like this: "We really need more brains at this location. We have a serious shortage of brains. Can you help?" or "We have been juggling brains here because some are out for repair. Can you help us with our lost brains?" or even verbally from the work room, I can hear staff members talk to each other, saying things like "Oops! My brain fell on the floor!" or "Are you done with your brain? Can I borrow it?" or "Why isn't this working? Oh, I forgot to plug in my brain." I have worked here for how many years now? And still. Never stops being funny.

5. I saw this sign last weekend, and I have tried to come up with an occassion that could be classified as a "Cigar Emergency." I can't think of one.

6. I was singing along to "Bad Romance" in the car the other day, and I said "I want your lettuce shredded kiss in the stands." Instead of "leather studded kiss in the sand." I guess I don't really want a bad romance, as much as I want a healthy one during a sporting event of some sort.
7. This song came on my alarm this morning and woke me up. I stayed in bed, looked out my window, and listened to the whole thing before I got up. Ever hear a song that just hits you totally the right way, at the right moment? It's nice.

Wunderbar

This weekend was titled "Stop being so goddamn glum, I am just pissing myself off now. Just stop it!"

And I did! I did stop it.

Here is my recipe for glum-stoppage.

On Friday night, I eschewed (gesundheit!) all social gatherings, grabbed a take-out burrito (dirty!), and spent the evening on my couch with Nordic Boy watching Tivo'ed episodes of The Daily Show and The Colbert Report from the entire week. And my phone rang, and I just DIDN'T ANSWER IT. I have friends who I call? And they literally never answer their phone. Ever. They get back to me later, via text or email or in person, sure. But their phones are basically just voicemail devices. Still, it never occurs to me to not answer my phone unless I am truly indisposed (meaning, I am at work, or chatting with someone else in person, or I'm in the bathroom or something). If I am just hanging out at home, I always answer my phone. Until Friday. I just didn't answer! Revolutionary.

On Saturday, we woke up, and the sky looked like this.

The sky has looked like this for pretty much the entire month of June, which is to be expected in Seattle, but the thing that was getting to me was that the forecast kept CALLING for sunshine, and then it would just. not. happen. The weatherpeople (sort of like the Village People, with less fun outfits) kept dicking me over this week, which was just not cool. So when we woke up, and I looked out the window of what was supposedly a cloudy-that-would-turn-sunny day, I was all YOU WILL NOT FOOL ME AGAIN AL ROKER and I looked at Nordic Boy and said

"Let's get in the car and drive over the mountains."
Him: Why?
Me: Because if we do? There will be sun.

I also made a joke about "There Will Be Sun" being the more cheerful version of a Daniel Day-Lewis movie, but I can't remember the joke now, so just fill that one in for yourselves.

So we got in the car and drove. No plan, no idea where we would end up. We just went. The drive started out like this:

And then became like this!

And then, by the time we started to get hungry for lunch, we just so happened to be right next to Leavenworth, Washington. Leavenworth, for those of you who don't know, is a town that is nestled right in the middle of a bunch of mountains, with breathtaking views, and also, by the way, it is totally set up to look like Bavaria. Buildings, food, music that is piped into the streets, everything. All the signs even have a Bavarian font.

I don't know what it is with me and fake German towns. When I go home to Michigan, I end up in Frankenmuth, for reasons I can never quite explain to myself. And now this. Achtung!

We had lunch and then hiked around some trails there and just soaked up the sun and looked at the mountains all around us. And maybe we did Colonel Klink imitations too. Maybe.  Aside from the fact that within the city limits of Leavenworth, there was a beer garden somewhere that had outdoor karaoke so that no matter where you walked you could hear a drunken, yodel-infused version of "Sunny Came Home," it was downright pleasant.

When we tired ourselves out, we got back in the car and headed home. And thus, gloomy be gone! Faux Germany can really be wunderbar.

(I kind of want to find a video of Howard Keel and Kathryn Grayson singing Wunderbar from Kiss Me Kate, but I'm too lazy to find it right now. Just hum it to yourself and think of that awesome yellow dressing robe she's wearing. Also very ungloomy).

Consumables #18

Thank you so much for all the sweetness and light that you commented and emailed me yesterday and today. Each and every one of those things made me smile, laugh, or chortle. I love a good chortle.


And now, just so that I have to do some of the work too, I shall list out some more awesomeness in my life at the present time. And also combine it with my weekly consumables.

1. I went to visit my friends in the hospital the other day. They just had a baby and the baby is premature so they have been staying in the hospital for the past almost-three weeks, trying to get the little guy strong enough to come home. They are doing well, and they may get to all three go home in the next few days. They are handling the whole thing remarkably well and I am in awe of them. That kid has got some great parents right out of the gate.

2. I watched Elegy the other night. Now why would I watch a depressing movie about fucked up lonely people when I was feeling glum? I don't know what it is about me, but I love stories about fucked up lonely people. I am neither lonely nor fucked up (well, relatively un-fucked up. Maybe. I don't know), but yet I feel kinship with those people.

3. I also watched This Movie Is Not Yet Rated. Jack Valenti reminds me of Lorne Greene. And Lorne Greene, rather than reminding me of the original Battlestar Galactica, or Bonanza, makes me think of Alpo. Which is sort of a sad thing, really. That's the insightful thing I have to say about that movie.

4. I always forget to mention books in my Consumables posts. What kind of librarian am I, anyway? First I don't wear sweater sets and now this. Sheesh. This week I read a book called The Rebellion of Jane Clarke. It's historical fiction, set in the era leading up to the Revolutionary War, and it was quite good I thought. The mention of Sam Adams just makes me think of beer though. First Lorne Greene and now Sam Adams. Damn you, Don Drapers of the world.

5. Last night, there was a very pretty moon out. It was low in the sky, and silvery, and there were wisps of clouds that kept passing in front of it like gray ribbons. Nordic Boy and I opened up our living room window and sat on the couch and looked at it for a while. Our conversation went like this.

Me: There's this book called Life as We Knew It, and it's about this girl who is living a normal life with her family when a meteor hits the moon and knocks it off its axis, which causes the Earth to go kind of haywire because gravity gets thrown off, and most of the population dies off.
Him: You sure know how to make a moment really romantic, you know.
Me: There are earthquakes, tsunamis, the whole thing. And she has to learn how to survive in this new reality that's created by this event. It was a really good book.
Him: Sounds interesting.
Me: It's not real though. It's fiction.
Him: Um. Yeah. Thanks.

"It's not real though. It's fiction." Really, me?

And to think I am paid to talk to people about books.

S.U.N.C.

My favorite person-who-is-related-to-me is my cousin Rosita. Rosita totally cracks my shit up, and if you can do that you're likely to make it on my favorite people list. She rocks it.


When Rosita was in her teen years, she was, as many teens are, often annoyed by people. And when she was annoyed by people, she would tell me about what they had said to annoy her. She would imitate what they said, just how they said it, in great detail. And after she would go on and on with whatever long-winded obnoxious quote that the offender had delivered, she would wind up the whole thing by an emphatic Rosita-coined phrase. "Oh my god. Shut-up-nobody-cares!"

SHUT UP NOBODY CARES.

I don't know why, but this phrase totally cracks me up. The teen angst of it. The surly nature! Old people often get the reputation for being the curmudgeonly folk in our social circles, but really, it's the teens. SHUT UP NOBODY CARES. I mean, really, right? Ouch. It's, like, the ultimate dismissal. And I wish I could convey the tone that needs to be employed with this phrase. First of all, you have to say it super fast. Shutupnobodycares! And the disdain, it must drip. And you have to mean it, so so hard. It's the only way to say it.

I would like to interject here that Rosita is no longer a surly teen (and really, when she was a teen she wasn't all that high on the surly scale to begin with) and I haven't heard her say this phrase for many years. Surly teen phrases aside, I assure you she did not grow up to be an asshole. Ok then.

One time, many years after I had heard this phrase or even thought about it, I was hanging out with Biogirl. We were going to try a new restaurant, and we arrived at the building and pushed the button to wait for the elevator. As the doors opened and we got in, I said this:

"That elevator really took a long time to come down. I mean, it's a big building, but it's not THAT big. Seems like it should have been faster. Slow service from an elevator, it's really stupid. And wow, look they have fancy art on the wall inside the elevator. That seems so hoity-toit, to have something that expensive in the elevator. Of all things to spend money on, people. I mean, I am all for art in unexpected places, but this elevator doesn't even have good lighting. So the art is totally being wasted. It's ridiculous. I mean, just look at it. Can you even see that? I can't. The person who made that decision really does not know a thing about how to hang art. OH MY GOD SHUTUPNOBODYCARES."

I shutup'ed MY OWN SELF, everyone. I was talking, and talking, and complaining about some shit that does not even matter, and all of a sudden, it was like I left my own body and I could hear myself. And WOW was I annoying. So I had to give myself the old one two punch. One: Shut up. And two: Nobody Cares. It came out of me so strong, so organically, right from my core.

The big finish phrase? Made Biogirl literally almost fall on the floor laughing.

Since then, this has become a phrase that Biogirl and I have totally revived. Whenever we go on too long about something, especially a whine of some sort, we tell ourselves ShutUpNobodyCares. A bit of tough love for ourselves. Sure, we are kind of kidding, but really, we all know when we reach that point where we are being a big whiny crybaby and truly, nobody cares. So shut it.

Well, I don't know that we all know that. And there are probably times when I am doing it and don't know it as well. But for the times that I am doing that and I realize it? Best. phrase. ever.

The past week or two, I am having multiple pre-emptive shutupnobodycares moments. Before I even start to say something, I know I am in danger of a shutupnobodycares moment, so I stop myself. Hence, my post about not really having that much to say lately, and my other post about being Debbie Downer. And also my sparse blogging this week. All of these things feel supremely uncomfortable to me. Crisis, I can deal with. Happiness, also good for me. But general worry and malaise in a sort of cloud that hangs over things? Not really my strength. I usually can buckle down when things go really wrong, or suck it up when things are just sort of not ok and see the good. One or the other. I'm good at those. But this? I just sort of don't know what to say or do with myself. I suppose I was brought up with the "if you don't have anything productive to say, don't say anything" sentiment, and whether that's a good or bad sentiment, it's in me.

So that's where I am at these days. Trying not to go to the Shutupnobodycares place. And the reason? The reason is that everywhere around me right now, it's bad news. People around me are going through stuff, I'm going through stuff, and it's all pretty glum. And I feel the danger of throwing myself a big old whine and cheese party. Which will just make me feel more glum.

So today? I am giving myself a blog style shutupnobodycares. I shall spare you any of the whine that I could dole out. (You're welcome!) Instead, I am turning the tables. I want you, if you are so inclined, to tell me something good. Comment me something positive, something happy, something funny. Send me a link that will make me smile, or point me to a source that made you feel good about what's happening in your life, or in the world. Because I need that right now.

(And please, don't be alarmed- nothing horrible has happened to me. I am just totally feeling surrounded by bad news on a personal, local, and global scale lately, and it's fricking bumming me out and I DON'T LIKE IT. That's all. Nothing earth-shattering).

So...tell me something good.

Consumables #17

This week my brain ate:


Live Nude Girls Unite!
Documentary about workers at The Lusty Lady in San Francisco who organized and became the first unionized sex business.

Robin Hood
Lately, my brain has totally been on complete overload with work and outside-work nuttiness. Because of this, I was in the perfect mindset to see this movie. As a matter of fact, I think the real title of the movie should have been Robin Hood: Calgone Taketh Me Away and Hither! Because it really does not demand a goddamn thing out of you when you watch it. It is exactly and precisely everything you expect it to be and nothing more or less. It's Russell Crowe being all Gladiator-y with bows and arrows and Cate Blanchette being all ethereal-yet-feisty and the fight scenes come on just when you know they will and the story goes just where you want it to. Nothing new in the slightest. Ahhh. My overtired brain really needed that.

Planet B-Boy
Doc about The Battle of the Year, an international breakdancing competition. This ain't no Boogaloo, peoples.

500 Days of Summer
I found this much more melancholy than I expected. Must be my mood right now.

That's all I got. Let me just express my week thusly.


Adieu, my pretties.

I Love a Parade, if I can find one

Chances are you have been to a parade in your life, right? Homecoming parade? Pride Parade? Something. You may think that the thing that you are supposed to do for a parade are along the lines of the following.


1. Get up at the crack of ass and lug your lawn chair to the parade route to save your spot.
2. Sit on your keister and watch the parade go by.
3. Perhaps holler and clap while keister-sitting.
4. Perhaps dance along as marching bands or music-playing floats drift by slowly, as if being pushed by the breeze.
5. Flash your boobage in exchange for getting pelted in the face by junky fake beads.

Well, guess what parade goers. You have been doing this ALL WRONG. Parade-spectating, which seems to be an activity with very little room for evolution, has been taken to the next level. By me. And now you can follow in my paradey footsteps.

Last weekend, I heard that a local high school marching band was going to march around my neighborhood to celebrate the end of the year, to have fun, to practice, to...whatever. I don't know why they did it, to be honest. I just heard that it was happening and was all hell yes let's parade it UP.

Parade-watching, me-style.
1. First of all, look up the parade route. Once you find it, only give it a cursory look and interpret it to mean that the parade route is going right past your house. Right past your very own front stoop, even! Disregard that the map clearly shows that that is not the case. Invite a friend over to sit on your stoop with you and watch the shit go down.

2. Gather said friend, your loverman, and yourself at the appointed time and sit on your stoop. Wait, and wait. Watch your loverman bail on this whole idea and start to do yardwork. Convince your friend that you should walk down the street to meet the parade that is FOR SURE COMING. Start to walk. And then walk some more. And then even more. Get hot and tired. Finally get to the actual high school where this whole thing was supposed to start and stand on the corner. Look really confused. Listen for music in the air. Notice that this whole time, there don't seem to be any other spectators. Watch a tumbleweed blow by. HAVING FUN YET SUCKERS?

3. Continue to walk some more in a random direction. Start to give up hope. Suddenly, your friend will claim to have heard music. "I think it's coming from that way!" Start to speed walk in that direction.

4. Walk up and down blocks and hear parade music drifting in and out of range. Wonder if this is how those people who walk along the beach with their metal detectors feel. Also, think about the futile journey of life.

5. Start to hear louder music. Break into a run toward it. Know it's here somewhere! SOMEWHERE.

6. Discover the marching band playing "Pinball Wizard" while standing in a drugstore parking lot. Note that they are clearly not marching and they are not in your neighborhood but at all.

7. Stand and watch for a while and wonder how all of the customers of the drug store must feel because their cars are trapped in this parking lot. Hope that there isn't some sort of pharmeceutical emergency that is being held up.

8. The band director dude will then announce that they are going to start an actual parade now. And then watch as the band takes off like they are ON FIRE. Which they just might be, considering it is 78 degrees and they are wearing full suits that look like a poly-wool blend. This is not merely a marching band, everyone. It is a band that only has two speeds. Drugstore-Stand-Still and Carl Lewis.

9. Follow along as a crowd of onlookers begins to literally chase the band down the street. If not full on running, at least speed walking. Because parade watching equals hauling ass as if we are running with the bulls. Only they are the bulls and we seem to be chasing them. Der.

10. After blocks and blocks of chasing, decide to turn off the parade route and circle around so that you might, as they say, cut them off at the pass. You kind of want to see them marching from the front.

11. As you turn off from the path of the rest of the crowd, feel as though you are outsmarting all those other parade goers and think to yourself that you would be awesome on The Amazing Race, if strategizing about frontal parade viewing was part of that show.

12. See the parade from the front. Act like this is a HUGE accomplishment. Feel smug. Take a photo.

13. Drag your ass home.

PARADE WATCHING, REINVENTED.

Now is still good

I have been a bit of a Debbie Downer lately, I must admit. Not because of anything that has happened. Instead, I've found myself worrying too much about things that are looming in my future. There are tough times on the horizon and when that is the case it's hard to stay in the moment (woo-woo hippie talk, please forgive) and enjoy it when there's that goddamn impending doom. Having a sick papa for a while now, I have thought myself quite the Jedi master when it comes to dealing with impending doom. Seriously I felt like I could give lessons in doom dealing, but add a few more doomy horizon things on top and I'm all OK FINE UNIVERSE I'm worrying. Which is stupid, I suppose, the worrying. It's like being sad in advance, and who needs that?


I remember when Biogirl was going through a similar sadness-in-advance time a few years ago, and she was sitting over at our house one night and she and I were talking about it, and talking about it, and talking about it some more. There were tears, and it was seriously not a good scene, man. When we had talked ourselves completely out, we sort of looked at Nordic Boy, who hadn't said a word. Feeling on the spot, I suppose, he busted out with something to say, just to contribute. "Yeah," he said, "sadness...is badness." That made all three of us crack a rib from laughing, which brought us right back into the present, the non-sadness-in-advance place. Since then, whenever Biogirl and I get ourselves into that headspace, we can always still get at least a little bit of a chuckle by saying "sadness...is badness" to each other in our best Nordic Boy voice.

So, this post is just to remind me. No sadness in advance. It'll come when it comes.

Mad Men Babies

Yesterday, the gaggle of neighborhood kids that live on my street set up a lemonade stand. The ages of the kids range from 5 to 14. During the course of the afternoon, they exhibited just about every form of lemonade Public Relations that you can think of. I swear to you every single one of these was shouted up and down my street. It was cracking us up. It went on for HOURS.


1. Straightforward.
"Lemonade! Seventy five cents! Lemonade! Seventy five cents!"

2. Repetition
"Lemonade! Seventy five cents! Lemonade seventy five cents lemonade seventy five cents lemonadeseventyfivecentslemondadeseventyfivecents..."

3. Gossip Girl-ish
"Lemonade! You know you want some!"

4. Price Wars
Kid #1: "Lemonade! Seventy five cents!"
Kid #2: "Lemonade! $35 cents!"

5. The Hard Sell
"LEMONADE! BUY OUR LEMONADE. BUY IT!!! PLEEEEEASE!"

6. The Personalized Approach
"Hey there. Hi. Do you want some of our lemonade?"

7. Greenwashing
"Organic Lemonade! Seventy five cents! It's fresh!"

8. Too Cool for School
"Lemonade is here, if you want. Only if you want though."

9. Jingle
"Have a lemonade raid! Have a lemonade raid! You'll have it made! You'll have it made!"

For all that? Only like three people stopped for lemonade. And two of them were me and Nordic Boy. Dang.

Consumables #16

There has been an epic battle in my town weather-wise this week. It rains, and then gusts of wind blow the clouds away, for like five minutes. Then it's rainy again. And on like that. The weather report promises a sunshiney weekend, but I will believe that when I see it. Right now, I feel like this dude.

Found at alyoisiusspyker's etsy shop

Barenaked Ladies
OMG The Barenaked Ladies were guest stars on The Bachelorette this week, you guys. What kind of shit is that? (See how I judge them for being on it, but I don't judge me for watching it? I'm a clever one, I tell you).

Facial Expression Babies to Teens
I could look at these art books all day long.

So You Think You Can Dance is back, but nothing of note yet. Still, it makes me deleriously happy. Let's hearken back to an old piece from a previous season, yes?

Most polite graffiti ever

I went to City Hall today, as I sometimes have to do, for work. Rather than tell you some anecdote about what I was doing there, or something about the Mayor, or something of any import whatsoever, I shall just give you this photo that I took inside the City Hall restroom. This sign was posted directly above the toilet. Inside the stall, on the wall.

In case you cannot see what is happening here, the sign says that rainwater is used in the City Hall toilets, yadda yadda. And yes, we are all indeed a bunch of damn pinko commies in Seattle who want our peepees to go into rainwater, bu that is neither here nor there.  Someone has taken it upon themselves to asterisk the sign to say that the discoloration sometimes found in the rainwater "looks like piss."  Someone else, clearly wanting to provide a rebuttal to this very important debate gauntlet that has been thrown down in the toilet stall graffiti community, comes back with the comment "It's great that we aren't using our amazing drinking water to flush toilets- this should be a Best Practice on all new buildings."

This sign is printed on regular printer paper and then slipped into a plastic sleeve which is stuck to the wall. The person who started this whole war of words didn't just take out his/her pen and start writing on walls, no sir. They took the time to slip the sheet out of the plastic to write on it properly, and then slipped it neatly back in. Not only that, they didn't just scribble across the sheet. Or even scribble across the bottom of the sheet. Nope. They wrote across the bottom in a straight line, as if on lined paper, in legible writing. And, in perhaps my most favorite touch, they asterisked the exact word to which they were referring their piss appearance comparison. Just so we weren't confused, I suppose. Why just graffiti something on a sign when you can footnote it instead?

The person who wrote back did not deface the original comment. Instead, they skewered this rube by unfurling the double asterix! Awww, snap!


Oh Seattle. I love you.

Common

Weekend, my weekend. To quote that bard from Hobbiton, Josh Groban, you lift me up. Or, shall I say yoo leeft me aaaaaaaahp. Yes, yes I shall.


This weekend, I saw a bunch of my pals. And I was thinking about the diversity of my pal group. Not just ethnic diversity, but just that I have close friends of many ages, stages in life, and life experiences. It got me thinking about what I base my friendships on. Common interests? Not really. Age demographic? Nope. Profession? That's not it either. I mean, sometimes there is something to all of those things, but that's not really what brings my crew together. What is it then?

I have this one friend who throws parties sometimes, and whenever I go to those parties, I always notice that everyone at the party seems sort of the same. All really nice people, but they are all in the 30-35 age group, white, all married, all with little kids. I am not much different than these people, except for the kids thing, and the white thing, and even that is enough to make me feel like an oddball. In a situation like that I guess it's normal that I feel the differences highlighted, right? Not really that surprising.

And I think we all have those people in our lives who only seem to associate with people they know from work or who are of a particular profession. So if you show up to a party, it's 100% librarians, or 100% computer programmers, or whatever. Granted, I have a lot of librarian friends, so I see how this can happen. But at or near 100%? How do you get yourself into a space where that's all you've got? I don't know how that happens.

There is this other person that I knew, who seemed, on the surface, to sort of be my doppleganger in terms of common interests. Same (sort of) career, same age group, same family structure (hetero couple, no kids), same artistic sensibilities, same interest in dance, same interest in design and art, partner who (sort of) works in a Nordic Boy-related field, blogger, all around nice, kind person, vegetarian, pop culture interest, and on and on and on. She even had a parent that was really ill and had to find ways to deal with that. Um, yeah, ME TOO. Really, it was even down to things like the fact that she and I only wear skirts and are not much for pants. Come on, right? It seemed like we SHOULD be friends. And to be honest, I was sort of into the idea of us being friends and gave it a few earnest shots. But for whatever reason, she never was into me for friendship. I don't know why, but my friendship overtures never were reciprocated much and we seem destined to remain friendly acquaintances. I still think about her (we are still friendly acquaintances) and I wonder why, with so many things in common, we didn't click. It was my one attempt at connecting with someone on the basis of OMG SO MANY THINGS IN COMMON. And it was a total failure. I guess I just don't do well with those standards. I don't know. I am still sort of confused about it.

Anyway, I was just thinking about this whole idea about how we choose our friends because I saw so many of my most favorite peeps this weekend, and I am so thankful for the fact that we have different lives and different things going on. I love that it's all mixed up and that we all love and include each other no matter what our lives look like and that the common denominator is just that they are all kick ass, kind, lovely people. Do I miss out on having friends that have more things in common with me? Maybe I do, and I just don't know. Maybe I could be getting all sorts of support from pals who are just like me, or at least are more like me. I can totally see how that's true. My friend Alli and I have the most things in common out of all my friends, and I really do value that and see how awesome in-common-ness can be. But that's not the way things happen for my friendships on the whole. For whatever reason.

So rather than give you the rundown of my weekend, I shall just say this:

This weekend, I saw some of my closest peeps. Among them were single people, married people, coupled but not married people, people with babies, people with teenaged children, people with grown children, people without children. There were gay people and straight people, and people of different ethnicities. There were people in their 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s and 60s. Artists and librarians and service workers and retired people and moms and dads and techies and musicians and people without jobs.

When I think of my best friends, I don't think about them in terms of what I have in common with them. I don't care if they have kids and I don't. I don't care if they are 65 and retired. I don't care that they love mountain climbing and you wouldn't catch me doing that in a million billion years. I am just on the lookout for awesomeness. And if you're awesome, I want to be friends with you. That's all.

What is the top thing that you share in common with most of your best friends? Just curious. I don't mean this post as a way to dismiss friendships based on stuff y'all have in common. I just want to know what's happening out there. Do tell.