Where I been

Ok, so I am sitting at a gate at O'Hare airport waiting to make the last leg of a trip to the land of my birthing and I'm typing this on my phone so will this be more disjointed than usual? Yes. And you thought it not possible.

I am listening to a young lass on her cell phone having a heated argument including the very astute observation: "DUDE. Spanish people are not Mexican. Spain is in Europe." Her debate sparring partner, judging from the way her statements continue, is not buying what she's saying for one second. Not one iota. She is remaining steadfast though, bless her heart.

Let's see, what do I need to catch you up on? Last week my friend Palindrome and her mister came to visit us in Seattle. Palindrome and I met our freshman year in college, and I have somehow managed to see past the fact that my behavior- actually my very personhood- at that time was probably the most mortifying period of my life. I was just a girl running amok, is all I have to say for myself. Palindrome doesn't spend a lot of time bringing up anecdotes of my mortifying behavior, which is big of her because I can see how that might be entertaining. Instead, we spent a couple of days catching up and you know what? Still love that lady. When it comes to friends, I really know how to pick them, even in the midst of The Mortifying Years. Good job, me.

Aside: the great debate at O'Hare continues. "DUDE. Just because you met a Mexican in Spain is irrelevant."

Back to Palindrome's visit. The downside was that Nordic Boy was under the weather for the entire time. He was trying to rally the whole time but he was dragging pretty hard, which kind of sucked. His not-feeling-wellness did cause him to be even more succinct than usual, which led to hilarity such as the following.

Palindrome: So what is the population of Seattle?
NB: The Puget Sound area is up to around 4 million I think.
Pal: Does that include Tacoma?
NB: The Puget Sound area includes everything...in the Puget Sound area.

I don't know. It was funny.

After their visit, I workity worked worked, and then this past Monday Nordic Boy went to work in Portland and I tagged along and bummed around the city. I had so much time, a list of things I wanted to do, and you know what I did instead? I sat in a bakery and read my book and stared off into space for a few hours. Then I got hungry so I walked to Clyde Common, ate, then read my book for a few hours more with more staring out the window. Then I walked to Tanner Springs Park and read/stared a little there until the sun went down. And then I went to Imelda's and bought two pair of shoes. So, to recap. Read, stare, eat, space out, read, shoes. Basically, an awesome day, no?

Update from five feet away from me: "No, like Spanish people colonized Mexico. That's why they speak the same language!" PERSEVERE, sister!

And now, I'm heading to Michigan to see my beloved mom and pops. I'm looking forward to hot weather, and the fact that humidity makes my hair look fierce. These days my visits can be more than a little melancholy, so sue me if good hair makes me feel a bit better, ok?

More soon, my dears.

Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

More soon

The bloggy suffereth this week, I know. Fun stuff is happening- more coming soon!

In the meantime, please to enjoy my lunchtime view.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Consumables #48

It's weekend time, SUCKAZZZZZ!


I am super excited for this weekend because (a) it is a weekend and really there needs to be no more reason to be excited about it than that; (b) I am being promised good weather, PROMISED; (c) I am taking at least part of the day off on Monday and hopefully the whole day off so bonus!; (d) most importantly my friend Palindrome is coming to visit me! I actually paused my typing there to do a little chair dance, which PROVES ALL OF IT.

Have you guys seen the tumblr Bill vs. Betty? It is photoshop madness whereby Billy Murray's face is put on Betty White's body and vice versa. It's more entertaining than it sounds. At least to me.

I read Common As Air: Revolution, Art, and Ownership by Lewis Hyde this week, which basically argues the case for defending our cultural/creative commons. Ah yes, my brain does work sometimes, contrary to my many blog postings about The Bachelorette. I have to say that this book was the most readable, interesting, and accessible thing I have read on this topic.

On the other end of the brainy spectrum, I was at home the other night, sitting/lying on my couch in a really impressive way. Like, if there was an America's Next Top Couch Potato competition I would be all over it. I was watching The Daily Show on the DVR, which I do pretty much every evening, but I was so ensconsced in my own Potato-ness that I wasn't even bothering to fast forward through the commercials, which is a rarity indeed. I don't know that I have seen a commercial on tv for the last 5 years, really. But the other night I was watching them, and this one came on.



And it made me laugh, and laugh, and laugh. Like, a big mouth, full belly laugh. Nordic Boy looked over at me from across the room and said "whoa! STITCHES!" and it was true. I was in stitches. Especially when the dude says "Your son Rip is on line toot." OMG. I may just be a 14 year old boy, but DANG that is funny. I really maybe should watch commercials more often?

Before you judge me too harshly, just know that Anderson Cooper and I find the exact same shit (ha ha, pun!) funny. So there.

As I said, I am being told that the weather this weekend will be great. The past few days have been actual summer around here, which is astonishing. Let's go out with a summery song, shall we? Let's shall.


Craft Spells, After the Moment

Busy Biznazz

It's Thursday? What the WHAT?

Sorry you guys, I have been on a bender lately. And by a bender I mean that I have been on a sort of spree. Not a drunken spree, nor a shopping spree. Those are the only two kinds of benders and sprees people talk about, isn't it? Or a killing spree, which, yikes. Well, there is also the Spree, by which I mean a little scooter dealie that you could buzz around on in the 80s. Wow, you guys, I just looked up Spree scooter on Wikipedia and the picture they have on that page is the EXACT Spree that my friend April had in 8th grade. The black one with the purple writing. We used to squeeze the two of us on that thing and ride around singing Janet Jackson songs. We were positive that we were the bee's knees, the cat's pajamas, and the kitty's titties all in one.

Anyway, the bender/spree I have been on is just a ridiculous chain of small life events of the completely normal variety (yard work! seeing friends! grocery shopping! working!) but somehow all piled up one after the other with no breathing room in the middle of any of it. In fact the other day I was at work and I was going from meeting to meeting, and all of a sudden I found myself running, because I had scheduled myself back to back with no room for even walking from one thing to the next. I was RUNNING, y'all. As I did this, I thought to myself: self? Is something on fire right now? Is anyone dying? I am all for Getting Things Done but really? Running? There needs to be fire, flood, or blood to justify running during my work day.

Thusly I have discovered a boundary I never thought I needed. No running at work. I am not a firefighter for god's sake. Next thing you know I will want to slide down a pole every time I answer a reference question.

Here are some parts of the normal life spree.

Nordic Boy and I have been looking for a chair for our guest room for months and months. Because we are tightwads who also want quality and prettiness (it would be so much easier if we were tightwads who were fine with crap), we tend to look, and look, and look for things for a long time. Need I remind you I am the lady who went for several years without a winter coat because I was looking so hard? So when plunking down good money for a chair, we scoured the city, y'all. I am confident in saying that we have laid eyeballs on every possible chair within a 20 mile radius of us. Big stores, little stores, vintage, thrift. When we do find the thing that we like, we often look for a while longer, just to be sure. Need I also remind you that it took us a few years of the datey/non-datey for us to commit to each other? What? It is too the same thing. How will I know? as Whitney Houston says. In my case I will know when I have kissed other chairs first, that's how. The other side of this coin is that after all the looking, BAM, all of a sudden it seems that there could never be any other chair other than the one that we looked at and fancied a month or so ago. You wake up, and suddenly... you're in love, as Billy Ocean says. That day happened to both of us on Friday. That means that we walked into the furniture store after work, acting like a couple of high rollers who were buying a chair on a whim. We walked in and were all "we'll take that chair. No, we don't need to look. We don't have any questions. And throw in the ottoman while you're at it too. Ring it up." How baller is that? Ok, so maybe ballers don't spend their dolla bills on chairs from Crate and Barrel, but if they did.

We went to a cocktail party where I continued my quest to find my favorite drink. I have never had a favorite drink, or even one that I really like a super lot, and I sort of want one, for some reason. I made a valiant effort (oh! the sacrifice!) but I still haven't found what I'm looking for, as the non-Sonny Bono said. On the upside, my friends and I decided that hotdogs were entirely too phallic and that we needed a meat product that celebrated ladyparts. We came up with a hotdog in the shape of a doughnut. One could put tasty morsels in the hole of it (grilled peppers? herbed potatoes?). Sounds delicious right? We called it a meat-ring. Ok, so the name maybe leaves something to be desired, but the cocktails were flowing at this point. I assure you we were very proud of ourselves. It is only now as I write this that I truly see how misguided our invention was.

I also should mention that Nordic Boy spent the whole day on Saturday carrying bricks that he had busted out of our laundry room out to the front yard (yes! more yard debris! we continue to be great neighbors), which was pounds and pounds of heavy bricks, and so by the time we went to the party, he was BEAT. He promptly got to the party, had a drink or two, butt-planted on a couch and took a nice snooze right in front of everyone. I used to wake his ass up when he pulls shit like this, but I have stopped doing that. He works so effing hard, all the time. It's your party and he'll snooze if he needs to.

So now, just in case you are keeping score, there was ripped out ductwork, ripped out brick, and also some remnants from tree pruning on our deck all weekend. So beautiful. Landscraping!

Nordic Boy and I had the funniest argument this week. It went just like this.

(Driving by a donut shop).
Me: I've always wanted to try a donut from there.
Him: You have. We went there years ago.
Me: No, you must have gone without me.
Him: Nope, we both went.
Me: No we didn't.
Him: Yes we did.
Me: No we didn't.
Him: Yes we did.
Me: I'm SICKA YOU making up stuff like this!
Him: I'm SICKA YOU not remembering your own life!

This made us laugh until we about died. I don't know why it was so funny. Ever since, we have proclaimed all sorts of things, just so that we could recreate the awesomeness of the words "SICKA YOU." I highly recommend it. Try it. It's funny.

Later gators.

Consumables #47

My week has gone by so fast with not much to show for it. It was a work-eat-sleep sort of time. The mix of Consumables is small and weird.


Incredible Mr. Limpet
Ok, I admit it, I am a Don Knotts fan. What? I think he's funny. This isn't his best work ever, but still, this campy early 60s stuff is so soothing to me. I can't defend it, I just like it. Deal with it.



Craig Ferguson
I loved every episode he did from Paris this week. I think, based on this alone, he just might have to go on my celebrities-who-should-be-friends-with-me list.



The XX, Islands

I love this song.


That's it! For the whole week! Can you believe that shit? GOD.

Whidbey, Take Me Away

Hey! I totally forgot to tell you about my weekend last week. Nordic Boy was super excited because he has been dreaming about taking out a non-functioning duct all summer long. Dreaming about it, I tell you. And ripping that thing out was going to cause us to rip a hole in the space-time continuum. Not really. It's actually going to rip a hole in the fabric of space. Ok, LG, stop it! It will rip a hole in our roof, which would then need repairing, but when I type the words "cause us to rip a hole in..." I just physically can not help but finish that sentence without referencing sci-fi space-time ripping. It's a typing compulsion that I cannot fight.


ENNYHOO. So this weekend, when the sun looked like it was going to grace us with its presence, Nordic Boy got his ass up on the roof, tore a huge hole out of it, ripped out the duct, and then fixed the roof. This is pretty much a perfect day to that dude of mine.

I, on the other hand, have other ideas about what constitutes a perfect day. Just because we are sweet on each other doesn't mean we have to agree on perfect-dayness all the time. The world don't move to the beat of just one drum, as the wise Mr. Seaver once wrote. The day I had in mind was to head to the Isle of Whidbey with my pal Biogirl. No ductwork was harmed in the making of our perfect day.

We took the ferry there, and I swear to you the ferry worker who helped us park the car was none other than Derek Jacobi himself! I am positive it was really him and not just some ferry worker who looked like him. It was HIM, dudes. Researching a role undercover, I just know it. We then made our way to Langley, where we walked around and had lunch at the Braeburn cafe. We made our way to Greenbank Farm, where I expanded my pie repertoire by sampling their famous Loganberry pie. Do you know that I am woefully undereducated on pies? I have only had four kinds in my whole life. Apple, peach, rhubarb, and chocolate cream. And now Loganberry. That is terrible pie representation for a lifetime of eating, people! I feel shame about this.

We also walked through some farmland that was opened up for hikers, and sort of got lost. Leave it to me to get lost in an open farm field. God.

We drove up to a local lavender farm to frolic in the purpleness. Prince would have totally loved it there, for reals.

Last stop before heading home was Deception Pass. Pretty pretty pretty.

Oh summer. You totally get me.

Avant Yarde

Last week was Seattle Night Out, a night where one is supposed to host a block party or a barbecue or some other such outdoorsy something in order to get to know your neighbors. I have always had grand dreams that when I owned a house I would be the sort of lady that would host such an event because it just seems all out of proportion saintly-like, does it not? The sort of saintly whereby you aren't really doing anything that big, but yet not very many people like to do it, and so you can do something pretty meager (hummus dip and a boom box playing 90s hits by Lisa Stansfield or something) but yet be really contributing something to building community.


As I am typing I realize two things. I have now revealed to you that: (a) I probably don't have a very good grasp of what the word "saint" means; and (b) in the deep recesses of my mind I think that party music = Lisa Stansfield. So there's that.

I love to have people over, or, as Martha Stewart wants us to keep calling it: to entertain. And the best entertaining happens on a sunny summer day in one's yard, right? However, I do it a whole hell of a lot less than I used to in the glory days of my youth because ever since we got our house, it is usually a construction zone much of the time in our yard. We are redoing one thing after another at the homestead from the day we moved in to right this very second and most likely on into unknown future years (omg it will never be over I swear to Charo), and we have decided that we are not going to do our yard and deck yet because we are still in a stage where we are tearing the shit out of the inside, and often we drag our house's poor discarded innards through the yard to make unsightly piles (you're welcome, neighbors!) and so we aren't putting in fancy landscaping yet because it's just going to get tromped on. Our motto: wait to do the landscaping until we're done with the landscraping.

So! I cannot be the patron Saint of Neighborliness and Perpetual Barbecues right now. However, that's ok because there are others in my neighborhood who will make the effort, namely our neighbors Sherry and Donna and their cutey son Elliot who live down the street from us. I had never met these folks before, at least in a for-realsies way that goes beyond smiling when we pass on the street, so I whipped up something for the potluck (well I bought a pan of brownies from Whole Foods) and my favorite neighbor (aka Biogirl) and I went. Nordic Boy was, as usual, out of town on biznazz. We met a lot of nice people and I put a lot of faces to names and I walked away with probably about 50% of the crowd thinking that Biogirl and I were a couple so that's batting about average for us.

Here is my fear about my neighbors, ready? Let's just get right into it. I fear that the neighbors are judging our yard. Because of the outflux of debris. And the landscraping. And the lack of landscaping.

This is the downside of moving into a cute neighborhood. You have to keep up with the cuteness! And we are not doing that, at least in the out-of-doors department. I am already mortified by our yard every time I approach it, and being in a party surrounded by every last one of my neighbors? Even though they are very nice people? I wanted to keep apologizing for my yard to every person I met.

"Hi I'm PCL, I think I have seen you in the bookstore a bunch of times and I've always meant to say hello. Great to meet you. Sorry about my whole yard thing. Really. Just, sorry."

Part of the reason I feel like this is because when we first moved in, our house was a serious wreck. It was unkempt, unloved, and needed a new...everything. We like to say that we are not remodeling our house, nor are we renovating it, but rather, we are rehabbing it. It was Keith Richards when we bought it and we are Benjamin Buttoning that shit as hard as we can. Hopefully we can get it to a place where it will age a la Dick Clark, is the goal. Anyway, so when we first moved in the main thing we had to do was just clean a bunch of stuff out to make it livable. When we did this? The neighbors fell deeply in love with us. The eyesore house on our street was being cared for! Looky looky! People came over to us as we left or arrived each day and congratulated us. You are doing such a great job! We are so happy someone is here to save this house!

That lasted for the first year. And yes, the house looks a jillion times better than it did. But we are not done yet, not by a long shot, and the neighbors...I don't know...I feel like I can hear their whispers through the trees, so soft, so ghostly...and they say...WHAT THE FUCK IS TAKING YOU SO LONG?

I don't know. Maybe they are still on our side, and all of this agida is just because of my own stuff. But there is agida. And so neighbors who were at the party last night, I promise you: when we are done with these shenanigans, we will have you all over for a barbecue of our own. And I promise you pleasant surroundings, and good food, and Lisa Stansfield.

But for now, there is a pile of old ducts in our front yard, to be taken to the home recycle place this weekend. Sorry. Please accept these Whole Foods brownies as a peace offering.

Love ABC Style

Hold onto yourself: I am about to talk about the Bachelorette again. I would promise you I'll stop after this, but you all know that my words on quitting are now meaningless so I shall not insult you.


I heard these two ladies talking about the Bachelorette on the bus the other day, and immediately leaned in to listen because no one in my life will talk with me about the Bachelorette because I only hang out with non-ridiculous people, unlike myself. So I am starved for someone who will agree with me that Constantine and Ben, when standing alone or with others, look normalish but when standing next to each other make me think of nothing but a giant Merry and Pippin from Hobbiton. Anyone? Anyone care? No one?

Hence, my new best friends on the bus.

The armchair quarterbacks on the bus (armchair quarterback? is that a thing? I always think I am making things up when I try to throw around sports lingo) were talking about how if the average lady or dude were set up to go on the Bachelorette, it would be really hard to NOT think that you were falling in love (or, in the parlance of the show "falling for someone" because the L word cannot be spoken before the overnight dates because that would be so trashy, OBVS) when put in the midst of such EXTREME LOVE GESTURES.

Let's just take a moment to take in the awesomeness of them coining the phrase "extreme love gestures," for Pete's sake.

They went on to talk about what an extreme love gesture is (and despite the term it is not dirty), and it made me realize that this concept alone is a big reason why I watch the show. Because I don't understand the concept of extreme love gestures, and I am endlessly fascinated with it.

Perhaps I do not understand it because I have never been under its influence. No one has ever picked me up for a date in a helicopter, flown me over the Grand Canyon, and landed me on a pedestal in the middle of the Bellagio fountain in Vegas. But apparently, if they did? I would HAVE TO fall in love with them. It would render me powerless! According to the ladies on the bus.

Extreme Love Gestures, Bachelorette style
aka How You Know You Are Feeling Love: a list

Riding an elephant or camel, maybe even a horse
Snorkeling
Repelling off a building or mountain
Bungee jumping
Tightrope walking
Having dinner at a table in the middle of a pond, fountain, or lake
Watching fireworks
Riding in a seaplane or helicopter or hot air balloon
Going on a sleigh ride, hay ride, or other horse-drawn situation
Getting invited on stage during a Broadway play, magic act, or Cirque du Soleil type show

If you have done any of these with someone, dude, you should totally be married to them by now, according to the Laws of the Bachelorette. You should also cry a lot. And also "put yourself out there." And also announce at various times that you know that your future husband/wife is "in the room right now, I just know it." And also, hot tubs are required. Lots and lots of hot tubs.

Lastly, whatever you do: DON'T MAKE FRIENDS. This is not just for romance. It's a rule for career, relationships, whatever. Friends are for suckers.

Consumables #46

Books!


Stolen, by Vivian Vande Velde
A girl finds herself running through the forest with no memory of who she is or how she came to be there. She is found by two families, one who claims to be hers and begin to call her Isabelle. They tell her that she has been missing for a long time, ever since she was snatched by a witch who lived in the woods where she was found. The witch has since disappeared, along with another baby. As Isabelle tries to piece together the story of her identity, we have to figure out what is going on as well. An interesting mix of fairy tale and mystery.

Run Far, Run Fast, by Timothy Decker
A simply told graphic novel about a young girl in Middle Ages in Europe whose village is struck by a plague. Her mother tells the girl to run away, which she does. I found the layout of the illustration panels to be a bit confusing and was distracted by this, but perhaps the young whippersnappers can read the comics better than I can.

TV!
Bachelorette
The season finale wrapped up in the motherland of Fiji, which just made it like, destiny, that I was watching it. Getting through all those hours of idiocy just to see that was worth it. Well, ok, maybe not.

Movies!
Harry Potter 7.2
We totally went to see this again because we are the biggest nerds on planet earth.

Men Who Swim
A surprisingly touching documentary about a group of men in Sweden who decide to form a synchronized swimming team. As each team member approaches middle age, the friendship they find in the team is really poignant.

Music
I'm totally feeling this song right now.


Gravity, Sara Bareilles

Ready, Set, Forget

Remember how I said that I left my phone in the coffee shop, only it wasn't in the coffee shop, but back at work where I left it? This was only one of many phone-leaving incidents of late, as well as some forgetting-of-lunch at home, as well as some forgetting to communicate with people who are emailing me, which especially galls me since that is a pet peeve of mine. Really, when did it become ok for someone to email another someone with a direct question (want to hang out this week? want these baseball tickets? could they have designed a movie poster that would make me want to see a movie less than this one?) and for that second someone to just ignore that email for weeks? It seems like that that is just commonplace these days. Acting in such a manner? Humph, I say. Except for when I do it like, um, lately. Just ignore that part though, I am way too busy being judgy to take note of my own shortcomings.


This morning all of this came to a head when Nordic Boy dropped me off at work and I hopped out of the car, leaving my wallet on the seat. "Hey! Forgetty With Meatballs! You forgot your wallet!" he said after me.

Forgetty With Meatballs! Like, my new nickname. I sort of love it.

This week has gone by in a flash. Time goes by faster when you just run around forgetting stuff. I have tested this all week and it has proved true, because that's just good science. Last weekend summer started up in Seattle for real (I know most of you have been roasting since May but we have barely seen the sun in all of 2011) so Nordic Boy and I celebrated by repainting our guest room. Because that's what summer is all about, Charlie Brown. That and ripping out old ducts. I know, it's like you can just hear The Sundays singing "Summertime" in the background, right?

We also went over to The Soggy Librarian's house for barbecue funness, and Nordic Boy was completely hypnotized by the awesomeness that is cornhole. I, on the other hand, was completely hypnotized by the sight of my other friend arguing so vehemently over the facts of Leona Helmsley's life (as you do) that her lawn chair seat broke and her butt fell through as she made her final points. There is nothing more emphatic that you can do to make a point than to fall through the bottom of your chair at the same time. I think lawyers should start incorporating this into their closing statements.

I have been having lunch outside pretty much every day this week, you guys. And it has not rained on me once! It's enough to make one do something like this.

Consumables #45: Just Ducky

I have started to use the phrase "fuck a DUCK" way too much lately. Last night, I said it one too many times and Nordic Boy had to say back "will you leave those poor ducks ALONE?" And yes, I really should leave those poor ducks alone.


In other duck fucking news (I have two whole things to say about that phrase in one day! That's weird), a long time ago I used that phrase on Facebook and people clicked Like a bunch of times and then my friend Lola said "I fooked a dook and I liked it." And so now that phrase makes me sing that Katy Perry song with those words plugged in pretty much every time. And now you will too. You're welcome, America!

In other news, can you all tell me how to properly fold a burrito? Nordic Boy and I have totally different techniques and he claims that mine looks like I am diapering something. I don't want to diaper my burritos! I feel like I need to break up with that technique, immediamente.

I shall stop talking that nonsense now and talk a different sort of nonsense. Consumables ahoy!

Movies!
Harry Potter 7.2
Unabashed LOVED IT. So many things about it to love- I'm not even going to get into it. If you are a fan, you know why it rocks, and if you aren't, my explaining the levels isn't going to make you care. I think we're going to see it in the theater again this weekend. I know- my geekometer just blew up.
So much so that I actually think this trailer that recuts HP as if it was a romcom is adorbs.



A Murder of Crows
Our house, like pretty much everyone's is surrounded by crows. I, unlike most people it seems, like them. I think they are beautiful. Yes, yes, they are a scourge, I know. But really, who are we to talk? We are so the scourgiest. Anyway, this documentary about crows was supah cool. So many interesting things about them, not the least of which is that if you cross one, they will remember your face for literally years. And talk shit about you to their friends.



Modern Views: A documentary on Northwest Architecture
Got 45 minutes to watch something about sweet midcentury Northwest architecture? I do. Delish.

Seattle Channel Video can be played in Flash Player 9 and up

Books!
Decoded, by Jay-Z
Beautifully designed book that features essays by Jay-Z on the context and history of hip hop from not every angle, but a lot of angles: political, artistic, historical, cultural. I bought a lot of his arguments, and didn't buy others. I think fans of Jay-Z would love this, as well as anyone engaged with hip hop culture. Much of the book focuses on close reads and break downs of Jay-Z lyrics.

Other stuff!
Hunger Games movie publicity
Are we concerned about this movie? I am concerned about this movie. I mean, come on. Look at the cover of Entertainment Weekly. Peeta looks like he is a bully from the Karate Kid movies. It just don't seem right, people.

I am going into my weekend with the blind and unfounded faith that it will be glorious weather and I shall frolic outside with abandon the entire next 48 hours. What? It could happen.

Happy Friday, all.

Passion Pit: Moth's Wings

Loopy Thursday

Things I have done this week to show how classy I really am:


1. Asked a friend to do something and then forgotten to respond when they said yes.

2. Worn a shirt that could only be described as Mrs. Roper-esque to a Board meeting.

3. Accidentally broke an unpeeled banana in half and gotten moist banana all over my notes at work.

4. Walked to my favorite cafe to get a cup of tea, walked back to work, got back to my desk and realized my wallet, phone and badge were no longer in my hand. I walked all the way back to the cafe and then realized that I could not have left my stuff there because I had succcessfully gotten back to my office, which I would need my security badge to do. I figured this out because I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES, YOU GUYS. I went back and found it all, right on my coworker's desk.

5. Double booked my weekend and then had to cancel on someone because of it.

6. Tried a new recipe (sauteed kale, potato, tomato and garlic hash) and made tator tots to go with them, not realizing until it was on the plate that I had two potato sides going at the same time for dinner.

On the upside, there was a lady at my bus stop wearing highwater white jeans, a purple men's button up shirt, and flourescent green tie, busting a serious move while this blasted out of her earphones. To which I say: YES, honey.

All You Need Is...

On Sunday morning.


Me: Wow, Amy Winehouse died.
Nordic Boy: She did? That's sad.
Me: Totally sad.

On Sunday night.

Nordic Boy: Did you hear that Amy Winehouse died?
Me: Yeah.
Nordic Boy: I just heard that today...somewhere. Someone told me. I can't remember.
Me: Sad.
Nordic Boy: Wait. I pretty much didn't talk to anyone but you today. Was it you who told me?
Me: Yep.
Nordic Boy: And you weren't going to point that out?
Me: Nah.
Nordic Boy: That's love right there.
Me: Or laziness.
Nordic Boy: The two keys to a successful relationship.

Consumables #45

Hello my lovelies!

 

I am feeling like a have a modicum of pep back in my step today. Not a bushel, just a modicum. (I just felt like mixing up some unit-of-measurement talk there, because I'm ker-azy sometimes). Perhaps this is because the sun came out today and I got to eat lunch on a rooftop terrace without my sweater. Actually not perhaps. It's totally because of that. I really am very easy to please sometimes.

 

Here's the week's roundup!

 

Books!

 

The Knife of Never Letting Go, by Patrick Ness

More dystopic fiction? How much more could there possibly be? When will people get sick of it? Yes, there's lots more, and people (at least me) are still licking it up. This one takes place in a world where people have caught a virus that causes them to be able to hear each other's thoughts, all the time. How can you keep secrets in a world like this? How can you lie? Turns out, you can do both of those things. Some of the reviews of this one say that it's a bit meandering in the middle, but I didn't mind that at all. Other reviews talk about how there is interesting gender stuff going on, which drives me a little batty because I want to know what kind of gender stuff? And what was so interesting about it? But now that I have read it I am also going to tell you that there's interesting gender stuff going on, but I can't tell you what because that would kind of ruin it for you if you haven't read it yet. So ha ha, the annoyed becomes the annoyer!

 

Ranger's Apprentice, Book One: The Ruins of Gorlan, by John Flanigan

I'm going to tell you a little something about my tastes. If you name a book or a movie with some Lord-of-the-Rings-meets-Rennaisance-Faire made up proper noun? I will not want to read it. I don't know why that is. "The Two Towers": okey dokey, no problem. But the Ruins of Gorlan? Ugh. GORLAN? There is nothing compelling to me about that, no matter how exciting the rest of the title is. I don't care if it's The Monster Bees of Limbus, where- no doy- I am going to want to read about Monster Bees, come on! But Limbus? I don't care if they are "of Limbus." (I just made up The Monster Bees of Limbus, so don't go looking for it in your library catalog because it sounds so awesome). For a long time, I thought to myself that I would probably like the Ranger's Apprentice series. I like rangers. I like apprentices. It's adventurey. But that Gorlan stuff just turned me right off. I finally picked it up, and I totally dug the story. So, lesson learned. The next time I see something that looks good except for the fact that it's called the Siege of Dinglegrad, I shall remember to give it a chance.

 

Movies!

 

The Real Dirt on Farmer John

Documentary about the American farm that isn't depressing. SAY WHAT? I know! The Peterson family has been farming in Illinois for generations. This documentary follows their story from traditional family farm through hard times and redemption. It's realistic but hopeful, and will make you feel super, super good about that CSA box you order every week.

 

Labyrinth

This is why I still go to my local indie video store. Because I can walk past a shelf, spur of the moment, and go OMG, I have to SEE THAT. This one especially had to be seen because Nordic Boy had never seen it before. Can you even believe that shit? Who am I sharing my life with, I ask you? How could anyone not have seen David Bowie in his Mad Max wig, playing with those silver balls the whole movie in a not at all metaphorically sexual way? "You shall love me, young lady. I shall hypnotize you with my shiny, shiny balls!" That's just good stuff, people.

 

TV!

 

Roseanne's Nuts

I love the old Roseanne show. It's one of those staple shows that I can watch here and there whenever I run across it on tv, no matter how many times I have seen it before. So, I gave her new reality show a try this week. I still sort of love her, even though the show isn't much.

Other stuff!

 

Google+

Do we care about Google+? I am trying it, but I don't know if I care about it yet. How about Spotify? Do we care about that one? I haven't gotten an invite for that yet, so if you've got one, send it my way. I'll give it a whirl.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Speaking of

Have you ever noticed that in movies or tv shows, whenever there is a little boy who is orphaned or has run away and been found or something, the people who have found him tend to refer to him as "The Boy" throughout the whole thing, even when they know perfectly well what the character's name is? "I'm very worried about The Boy. He's in shock after what happened, and he doesn't seem to be coming out of it." What is up with that? "Bring The Boy in. We have to ask him what he knows." No one talks like that, do they? Movies. They so crazy.


Speaking of the The Boy, I am seeing the new movie out (perhaps you have heard of it) this weekend about The Boy Who Lived, otherwise known as Harry PAW-TAH and I am SO GEEKY EXCITED ABOUT IT. I always say "Harry Potter" like that in my mind, because whenever anyone meets Harry Potter in the movies, that is how they greet him. They don't say hello, or wow, you're that crazy scar-head kid, they say "HARRY PAW-TAH!" It's sort of like shouting "Norm!" in Cheers. I think we should all decide to shout out people's names when we meet them. Maybe that's just how they do in England?

Speaking of England, we were driving downtown the other day, and we saw this dude driving a Segue down the street. When we saw him, Nordic Boy said, in a hoity-toity voice: "Hello, Chauncey!"

Me: Why did you just call that guy Chauncey in that voice?
Him: I don't know. People who ride Segues seem old-timey English.
Me: They do?
Him: Yes. Like, wouldn't he look perfect if he had on a butler outfit right now? With a top hat?
Me: Actually, now that you mention it, um, TOTALLY.

Next time you see someone on a Segue, just picture that for me, won't you?

Speaking of Nordic Boy's great ideas, I demonstrated one of his made-up dances (called "The Level") to my coworkers the other day (because yes, I bust out dance moves at work, SO WHAT) and my one co-worker took it to the Vancouver Folk Music Festival with her friends and got tons of people doing it. His genius is not only sweeping the nation, but it's international, baby. You've got yer Chubby Checker, you've got yer Soldja Boy, and then there's Nordic Boy.

Laters, people.

Edited to add: I realized after I published this that it's Segway, not Segue. I also realized that that is probably not the way you spell Soldja Boy, but I can't be bothered to look it up.

IDK. CINN?

You guys, I think the inevitable has happened. I have RUN OUT OF WORDS.


Actually, I take that back. I can boil my existence down to two sentences. One: I don't know. And two: Can I nap now?

I am at a place where I don't know seems to cover any and all situations in my life. This is unfortunate since my job is mostly, you know, answering questions for people. A case of the I-don't-knows is sort of not ok, so I am managing to pull out some non-I-don't-know stuff during business hours, but then after that? I don't motherfucking know, ALRIGHT?

Evidence: Nordic Boy was putting in baseboards in our guest room and we were in the lumber store and he was asking me which type of baseboard I wanted and I was all I-don't-know, just pick one. If you knew me but at all you would realize that any sort of aesthetic choice about anything is met with complete and utter decisiveness from me so an I-don't-know on a baseboard style? Proves that my world is off its axis.

My other phrase: can I nap now? is actually something that I have not said aloud but is on repeat over and over in my mind as I go through my day. I have a serious, SERIOUS jones for a nap. At all times. I have become nap-obsessed. Why? Have I been lacking in sleep? Nope. Have I been doing things that would make one over-tired? Nope. So what is up? I don't know. But can I nap now?

Maybe I do know a little. I think the way I deal with stress is to become completely dumb on every topic (I-don't-know-itis) and to go to sleep. Ever since that goddamn friendcut post, it has been one stressful thing after another in me-ville. Various people in my life acting a fool, followed up by family health drama, and then...actually that's about it. But that's enough. Those two general topics cover a lot of ground, actually. Why are people choosing to act a fool now, I ask you? All at once? When I have bigger fish to fry with trying to keep up with family health drama?

I don't know. Can I nap now?

See, it really does work in almost any situation.

I was talking to my mom on the phone the other day, and she was noticing how tired I sounded, and you know what she said to me? "You really should avoid stress." Did I mention that she was calling me from the Emergency Room? With not-great news? You really should avoid stress. Mom, I love you, but have you realized that many of the times, you and I are often standing in a shitstorm together? How can any of us in this here family avoid stress?

She probably doesn't know. And she could most definitely use a nap I am sure.

In other news, this crap few weeks has not limited my ability to giggle about stupid stuff, because that is just who I am. For instance, Nordic Boy came up with this idea that old people who usually eat dinner Early Bird Special style might also like to have a happy hour. Only problem is that if they are eating dinner at 4 pm, they will most definitely miss regular Happy Hour. So why not have their own, from like 2pm-4pm? We would call it "Pappy Hour."

Cracked me up, that one.

Ok, so maybe I have not run out of words. But still. I don't know. Can I nap now?

Oh Weekend Where Art Thou

Rattling around in my brain today...


I had dinner with Biogirl and HM, and it was one of those fancy places where they only bring you the bread after you have ordered. It's times like that when I miss the motherloving Olive Garden where it is a nonstop breadstick train as soon as you sit down. Choo choo!

I complained about this to Nordic Boy, which got us into a conversation about restaurants that we thought were way fancy when we were growing up. For instance, I thought Pizza Hut was completely out of reach. Also, when a friend had a birthday and we wanted to save up and splurge on a dinner, it was Olive Garden all the way. The fanciest, by far? Red Lobster, baby. My parents took me there the night I graduated from high school, because it was THAT special.

Met up with a friend of a friend who just moved here from Michigan. Welcome wagon! I adore meeting awesome people, and this one was top shelf.

Nordic Boy and I went for a walk, and we saw this dude riding his bike around the neighborhood, yelling at the top of his voice about some band playing at some nearby venue later that night. He was kicking it town-crier style! I was sort of digging that.

We also went to Radio Shack twice. TWICE. Once to buy something, and once to return something. When we returned our something, they seriously interrogated us, you guys. They apparently needed our phone number and address, and email, and wanted us to take a survey. All because we bought a wrong cord. I want to make a joke about Radio Shack, but I feel like that would be hackneyed, somehow. It's like making a joke about losing a sock in the dryer.

Ha ha, look at me, thinking that I have big enough britches to avoid hackery. Hack is WHACK, yo.

That's all I got.

Consumables #44

Consumables! Thar she blows!


Books!

Bossypants, by Tina Fey
Tina Fey is totally funny and smart in her book! And she can write well too! What a freaking shock, right? Jeez, way to be so predictable, Tina. Seriously it was super good. The only thing slightly eensy bit negative I can say about it is that she kind of needs to lay off on the self deprecation. Maybe in the entertainment industry she is considered not super attractive, but come on. That lady is gorgeous. And skinny. And hot. I realize it's funnier to talk about how hideous one is, but stop it Tina. Because that makes me nuts.

The Secret Science Alliance, by Eleanor Davis
Cutey cute cute graphic novel for kids about a crime-fighting nerd brigade. I loved how of the three nerds, one of them is out and proud with her nerdiness, while the other two are a tough kid and a jock who hide their nerd ways in a sort of secret agent way.

The Composer Is Dead, by Lemony Snicket
Only Lemony Snicket could get away with starting out a picture book with the words: "Composer is a word which here means 'a person who sits in a room, muttering and humming and figuring out what notes the orchestra is going to play.' This is called composing. But last night the Composer was not muttering. He was not humming. He was not moving, or even breathing. This is called decomposing."

Movies!

I Think We're Alone Now
This was a weird documentary about two obessive fans of the 80s singer Tiffany. Simultaneously really really creepy and yet still sort of sympathetic. I don't really know what to make of it. I just felt unsettled after watching it.

Teevees!

The Walking Dead: Season One
Zombies! Survival! Right up my alley, right? Well, maybe. I wanted so much more out of it. More development of the zombie idea, more back story, more everything. Maybe that is still coming up.

That's it, homies. Have a good weekend! Think sun.



And Run, by He is We

Getting Better All the Time

My life lately! Ahem.

1. I have a seriously elderly laptop. It was bought in 2004, which means that it really should be in some sort of hospice care right about now. The battery drops out of it completely if I carry it anywhere, which thankfully I don't have to do because it won't work on its own battery power anymore. It has to stay plugged in and even then it groans at me when I use it, which I try not to do, ever. Nordic Boy's iPad laughs at it, I am pretty sure. Rude ass bastard. I also have an old iPhone. (And SWEET JESUS can this post be any more bourgie hipster? I don't think so). Sometimes the ipod on it just refuses to play. The other day I was syncing the two, and they talked to each other, rebelled, and bam! All of my music disappeared from my phone, and then the sync was over, never to return. The two are On a Break from each other, which I fear is the precursor to We Are Broken, which will lead to me having no music and that means I will have a Psychic Break. I need new compooter stuff, you guys. But, to quote Nelly Furtado, I'm like a bird. Cheap. No retiring for you, gadgets! You will work until you DIE. If this were the Twilight Zone, I am pretty sure the next thing that would happen is that they would come to life and kill me somehow.

2. I went to my first ever baseball game last weekend. I am not anti-sports by any means but somehow they have just not played a huge role in my life. These are the things that fascinated me about my first ever baseball game. The knickers. It was "Turn Back the Clock" night and so the players wore their old school knickers. I think they need to bring those back on the regular. Who is carrying the knickers torch in 2011? No one! I think it's up to the baseball dudes. Also, any baseball fan that ever complained to me about soccer being "too boring" needs to re-evaluate that statement. You are allowed to love baseball and not love soccer at the same time, but the too boring criteria is no longer acceptable to me. Third, I enjoyed the game, but I think that baseball needs more bling. It's basically just the game, and a 7th inning stretch song in terms of entertainment value. I vote for dancers or cheerleaders, and some sort of mid-game show. Fourth, the stadium food I ate was straight up FOUL. I am not a choosy eater and will eat what I am given most often, but I couldn't eat that shit, people. They put fuckall in that food and charged me three million dollars for it! The nerve. My favorite things about baseball: being outside on a beautiful night with my friends. Also, they played a Michael Jackson song and put a 10-year-old kid on the jumbotron who was rocking the MJ dancing hardcore. This is what I need: sun, friends, and MichaelJackstyle.

3. Sun! It has been so sunny and nice I have wanted to make out with everyone. Be afraid.

4. I went to a 4th of July party where my one friend S (S stands for smartypants) had the rest of us play this game that was full of strategery. I don't want to insult my friends who are also smart, but we SUCKED at this game. So hard that I think S pretty much thought that we had all suffered a simultaneous brain injury. I made a delightful statement at the beginning of this whole episode when the rules were being explained. I shouted out in horror: "OH NO. Is this a THINKING GAME?" My parents would be so proud.

5. Walked to fireworks with my friends. I am not usually a fan of crowds, but the 4th of July is an exception. I love that my whole city spills out of their houses and packs the streets and looks up in the sky together. There's something poetic about it.

6. After the friendcut heartbreak of 2011 (which was closely followed by some other dysfunctional nonsense on top of it all, so double-whammy on the feeling blue), I felt like this week the universe was trying to tell me that I was still loved. That is, if I believed that the universe really has time to focus on making me feel better, which I don't. But it felt like that was what was happening, so I soaked it in. Along with the sun, which I believe I mentioned makes me so happy that I want to make out with all. Pucker up.

Consumables #43

Ok, I declare this week OVAH. Finito! Kaput! And good freaking riddance. People ain't been treating me right lately, you guys. Why that is, I do not get. Because in case you haven't noticed? I is awesome. Super for rill awesome. Perhaps you just aren't ready for this jelly? Still. Ima bring this jelly. Because as I mentioned, I am awesome. And you are lucky to know me.


I just had to have a Stuart Smalley moment with myself there. I beg your pardon. I'm done with that now.

On to things pop and cultural in my life this week!

The Answer Man
I will totally watch anything with Lorelei Gilmore in it, because I love Lorelei Gilmore. This was your typical asshole-meets-nice-lady story. You know the one. Horrible man is going through life being horrible. Then the jagoff meets a nice lady. The nice lady makes him want to be a better man, and he never quite becomes a better man (meaning he is still pretty much a jagoff), but unconditional angelic lady loves him anyway. This is supposed to be heartwarming. Did Woody Allen start this oeuvre in movies? I feel like Jack Nicholson was passed the torch there for a while (being an ass to Diane Keaton and then to Helen Hunt, remember that?). Anyway, Lorelei (Lauren Graham) is the nice lady in this one. So hey ladies! If a dude is an asshole, you can totally just be nice and then he will go from being a 100% ass to you, to maybe an 90% ass to you. That is all your saintly behavior deserves. Aw, so romantical.

God Grew Tired of Us
Documentary that follows some of the Lost Boys of Sudan as they transition from life in a refugee camp in Kenya to the United States.

Confessions of a Superhero
I don't know what it is, but I am fascinated with documentaries about people who are living their lives in pursuit of being famous, and who are living in this sort of purgatory where it isn't happening, but they just keep believing in it. This one is about 4 aspiring actors who make ends meet by dressing up as superheroes to make money by standing on Hollywood Boulevard and taking photos with tourists and asking for tips.

Camp Hollywood
This one is about a famous decrepit Hollywood hotel called Highland Gardens, where aspiring actors come to stay when they arrive in town. Supposedly Brad Pitt had a stint here, and the actor who played Mozart's father in Amadeus has lived there with his wife for a long time and still does. Other than that, it's full of young actors who go on auditions obsessively and dream super big. Why is this interesting? It just is.

I have been too busy hibernating to read books this week, so there you go. Bad librarian.

On to the weekend! Yippee! Let's dance it out.