I Stole The TV.

who's up for pretending to ride a bike while laying on a bed?

2009-12-03T11:00:00.001-05:00

Anyone? Anyone? Buehler?

Although it is not unusual for me to completely drop the ball w/r/t blogging, this might be the first time I have ever had a really, really, really good reason.

In a nutshell...

Two days after my last post, I spent the day in the ER and almost died because of the swine flu. But not really. I was in the ER all day, but it was not because of the swine flu. Not sure exactly what it was yet. I go back in for some more follow-up shiz this upcoming week. Cross your fingers.

I'd like to wait until then to broadcast anything more.

Anyway!

I thought I'd break back into blogging today. Why not? Thursdays are awesome. Not as awesome as Fridays, but they're pretty damn close, if only logistically.

For my first effort this round, I'd like to re-visit one of my favorite passive aggressive encounters of all time.

Once upon a time, I bought a margarita pizza from Maria's in Ferndale and it was delicious. I brought the pizza home and wanted to ensure that my abundance of leftovers would at least make it through the night and hopefully a few days beyond that. So. I left a note on the top of the box, on top of the stove and then went to meet some friends for drinks. This is the note:

When I came home, I thought to myself, "you know what would be really delicious right now? some effing margarita pizza."

I went straight for the box and opened it up to find it completely emptied of pizza with this note in its place:

You may or may not recognize the handwriting. It was Paul's. I became so insanely angry in one second that my head started hurting. I exclaimed aloud, "mother fucker! where is my goddamn pizza?! I KNEW IT!!! I swear to god and all that is holy... Mother F! Ugh..." and so on and so forth.

And then, when my cheeks were nice and rosy from my verbal fit of rage I heard laughter. I thought to myself, "oh, what in the holy hell now goddammit."

Paul came walking into the kitchen laughing hysterically. "I am so sorry hahahaha but you should have heard yourself hahaha and you your face hahaha oh man that was totally worth it hahaha i put your pizza in a bag in the fridge. i'm sorry hahaha i just couldn't resist."

"Wait. What? The pizza's in the fridge?!"

"Yes."

"Sweet!"

and now for something lovely...

I may or may not have posted this on here before. But that's ok because I love it so much. And you know, on second that, I hope this is at least the third time I've shared it. It makes me that happy.

Enjoy!

this is least like a bee...

2009-11-03T12:04:00.000-05:00

Today is my last day of house arrest/quarantine. I still have the hacking cough but the chills and body aches are almost gone completely. Woo! I've watched a lot of Ugly Betty and a decent number of movies. It's kind of impressive when you think abut it, because I've also slept for what feels like 100 hours.

One of my favorite movies to watch is Best In Show. I've watched it three times in the past 5 days or so.

The above photo was sent to me by my mother a while back. It is in reference to the following scene:

Fun Fact: If you want to get tested for the H1N1, you have to go to a hospital.

Oh, and everywhere I checked, they were out of vaccines. Woo! So, if you're like me (and millions of other Americans) and you don't have health insurance, you'll be told that it's too expensive to get checked unless you feel like you're dying. Preventative medicine? Not so much.

It all felt very Children of Men to me.

Anyway! I'm getting better. I hope you are too or that you're not sick. You know the drill: wash your hands, don't touch your face unless you have, cough into your elbow blahblahblah. IF you do get sick, TheraFlu helped me a lot. And when I say TheraFlu, I mean the store brand version. Oh, and rest a lot. When you think you feel a lot better, rest for one more day and then you will for sure feel even better. Trust me.

Also... I'm almost done editing the band VLOG we shot on Sunday. I am still working on the Columbus VLOG series. Those should be ready by Monday.

maybe you should come back later...

2009-11-02T15:13:00.000-05:00

A few months ago, my iPod adapter cassette thing took a dump on me, so I made a quick stop at a Radio Shack near my house before heading into work. The moment I stepped out of my car, I saw this parked next to me:

"Can you say: ridiculo?!"

2009-10-30T12:34:00.007-04:00

I am home sick today with the NON H1N1 flu. My entire body aches like I've been run over by a group of angry lineman.

Last night, I scraped myself out of bed to go to the store and pick up a few "remedies" like tea, TheraFlu and a shit ton of juice. As I was standing in line, I noticed some of the clever, last minute, impulse buys displayed near the registers.

There are Magic Gloves

What makes these gloves so magical? I have no idea because the packaging did not include an explanation and/or a list of features. But don't worry, because I could've just bought little Dora socks with feet already in them.

Way to take out the middle man, Ferndale Foods! And lastly...

Yes, you're reading that right: French Toast Children's Tights.

What. The. Hell.

Suzy is pissed.

2009-10-29T13:56:00.005-04:00

Location: Employees Only entrance at a downriver 7-11.

There are two sure fire signs that you are awesome at life (besides having a happy bunny keyboard).

1. You get written up for putting bottles and cans in the wrong boxes and/or
2. You take a page from the 7-11 manager Suzy playbook and you are bat shit crazy.

Also...

I heart random capitalization, and possessive cans. Kudos to Suzy for spelling "their" correctly on her second attempt.

thank you?

2009-10-28T11:49:00.000-04:00

This one comes with a story...

Not too long ago, Clare found herself the victim of theft. Some sweaty bastard that she works with in NYC stole her Metro card right out of her jacket pocket. She suspected him almost immediately and "confronted" him passive aggressively. It went a little something like this:

CLARE: Hi.
SWEATY BASTARD: Hi. How are you?
CLARE: Shitty. Someone stole my Metro card today and I just put, like, $90 on it. Worst day ever!
SWEATY BASTARD: Wow. That's terrible. I'm sorry to hear that.
CLARE: Thanks. I'm so mad. I mean, why would someone do that?
SWEATY BASTARD: I have no idea. [long pause] I don't even take public transportation. Not a bus or the subway or anything. I ride my bike.
CLARE: [confused] Riiiight...

So, she got an empty card and placed it in her jacket pocket again with the cute little note pictured above.

comb.

2009-10-27T13:57:00.000-04:00

Yes, that's a comb sitting on the moulding in a hallway at Domino Farms. Why is it there? You guess is as good as mine.

Maybe it's post-post-post-modern art and I'm just missing the point.

eff you!

2009-10-26T11:50:00.005-04:00

I don't know about you guys, but I am still tired from this weekend. It was ridiculously busy, but soooo much fun. It was chock full of friends and family and music and alcohol AND! I crossed "meet Kelly Clarkson" off of my bucket list. I did not have "also, hug her" on there, but I added it real quick and then crossed that mother off too.

I would like to take this opportunity to announce that, contrary to popular belief, Kelly Clarkson is NOT fat. I repeat: NOT fat. She's short and curvy like most of the women in my family. If she is fat, then I am also fat. Seriously. She was gracious and lovely and sweet and down to Earth.

For as ecstatic as I was (and still am) about meeting her, I was also really bummed out. It really drove home the whole body image/low self-esteem bull shit that's constantly re-enforced on the teevee and newsstands and in theatres everywhere across America.

And you know... I understand that it's important to be healthy and that obesity is a serious issue in this nation. BUT, Ms. Clarkson looks normal and healthy. I feel like she only looks fat in comparison to her peers who are more or less twigs.

Take for instance, Brandi Carlile...

First of all, I adore her. I think she's a force of nature and quite possibly one of the greatest artists of all freaking time. But she is so damn skinny, that if she turned sideways, she'd straight up disappear. She looks so "normal" in press photos and videos online that seeing her in person had a jaw dropping effect. 5'3"-ish and 90 lbs. is not "normal".

But, hey. Maybe I'm way off here. What do you think? And please, allow me to preface the following side-by-side comparison with this: 95% of the women in my life are the same size, if not larger, than Kelly Clarkson. I can count the number of "Brandi Carlile"s I know on one hand.

Observe:

I guess my point with all of this is to say that:

1. I love Kelly Clarkson (with all my heart)
2. she is not fat and
3. for the love of all that's sacred, love your curves!!

And now onto what felt like a very appropriate photo-opp for today...

This one goes out to the bitches in the entertainment industry who make us feel like shit, to Mondays, annoying co-workers and to the people who ruin my life every day in the parking structure. You know who you are...

I found this in a nursing administration office. Something tells me, they do no not like their job and/or life.

$200 BEEr

2009-10-23T12:03:00.000-04:00

If that beer is not literally the nectar of the gods, you are overpaying.

Happy Friday, bitches!!

May you find cheaper beer than I did.

and on a more serious note...

The Matthew Shepard bill has passed.

There's a lot that I'd like to say on the matter. At present, I am far too overwhelmed to process any of it coherently.

So.

Tonight... If you're feeling so inclined, join me in spirit by raising your glass to progress.

food.

2009-10-22T12:00:00.000-04:00

You don't even want to know what was in the other fridge. Let's just say that retrieving the contents required a haz-mat suit and very thick gloves.

pump it like you mean it!

My mother emailed me this sign she found at a gas station. It should be noted that she found this in the same city as the COPYS sign. It has led me to believe that spelling and grammar are not exactly the forte of Trenton gas station owners and/or employees.

desperately seeking susan...

2009-10-21T11:30:00.002-04:00

I submitted this to you suck at craigslist dot com, but they haven't posted it and I don't know if they will. So... Here's a little gem I found:

Looking for a guy that collects vintage/retro (ferndale)

Reply to:sale-s7dv8-1181385253@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
Date: 2009-05-21, 12:03AM EDT

what do you collect? This is the barter section, and we have a great space for display and selling of vintage, retro, collectible stuff in exchange for helping us out on a shift or two.
Fun easy place to work, and we sell your stuff everyday, open everyday, and special events like the ferndale art fair and the dream cruise and pridefest.
what do you collect? male anything retro? Looking for stable down to earth guys that are non smoker and drug free. addicted to garbage picking? garage sales? fine. No drugs.
well, coffee and plenty of it.

Location: ferndale
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 1181385253

Do you have a nicotine addiction? Go fuck yourself. Do you have an addiction to leafing through disgusting garbage? High five! Call me asap!!!

And "male anything retro"? What in the holy hell is that supposed to mean? At first, I thought: spelling error. However, "make anything retro?" is physically impossible. It has to exist for quite some time before it can be considered retro. You can make something retro-style or -esque perhaps. But to straight up make something retro is just ludicrous.

My head hurts.

road trip!!

2009-10-19T11:45:00.003-04:00

First venture to Columbus, Ohio this weekend...

There are many, many photos of actual people and places and there's also a ridiculous amount of video footage to be cut down into manageable bites. I am still completely exhausted and if this gd headache does not go away soon, I will smackabitch. Or something.

Until the series of VLOGS is complete, this station will continue with its regularly scheduled programming.

not Benny & Joon's

Did I just get that "500 miles" song stuck in your head? No? How about now?

I found the following photos in a diner called Jack & Benny's right on the outskirts of downtown Columbus. We were promised a delicious breakfast and that is exactly what we received. It was the perfect hangover fix. They had vintage arcade games like Pac-Man and this request, posted just inside the door, next to the hanging clipboard we were instructed to sign in at.

This photo watched over us as we ate:

I'm hoping someone can help me identify this man and tell me why, what appears to be a newspaper clipping of his arm-less bust--a la Venus de Milo--is floating on top of a carton of eggs. If you have any information, please send it my way: i.stole.the.tv.blog@gmail.com . kthxbye.

note to self:

2009-10-16T13:22:00.002-04:00

Guess who wrote this note?

My Dads like to leave notes (passive-aggressive and otherwise) all over the house. They leave them for themselves, for each other and for me. Recently, we had a plumbing issue in the house. The pipes were backing up, so a plumber was called.

Today, I received the following email from my Dad:

My darling daughter's,
Today I rushed home to meet with the plumber so he could snake out the drain (thankfully that I have a job that I can do this). I have had to do this every couple of years due to the big maple tree roots that have somehow got into the main drain in the back yard. Mind you at a cost of $129 (thank god for yellow pages coupons or it would have been $151!). I had a lively conversation with both of them as they did their disgusting job but which is most appreciated by the general public. When I was expecting a bucket of roots to come out when they retrieved the snake from under the back yard. It ended up being a few of the affor mentioned "MUFFIN PLUGS". I have no idea how long they had been there or who did it, weather it was Elida or her friends, [redacted] or for that matter [redacted] when she was here for a day. For my sanity and the protection of your wallet ( I am actually only talking to you Elida other wise I would day purse).....NO MORE FLUSHING YOUR MUFFIN PLUGS!

Love
DAD

P.S.
This better not show up on passive aggressive notes.com

He never said anything about posting it on my blog. He sure paints a lovely picture, doesn't he? Turns out, Paul wanted to leave a sticky note in the bathroom that read:

NO MORE FLUSHING MUFFIN PLUGS!!! Love, Paul. :)

I really wish he would've done the latter.

Also, I have no idea what he meant by "day purse" and/or how that's a verb.

Happy friday, bitches!!

fountain etiquette

2009-10-15T11:47:00.000-04:00

How about sanitary napkins?

meow.

2009-10-14T08:14:00.000-04:00

Sexy cat costumes, anyone? They're on sale...

wow. just... wow.

2009-10-14T02:06:00.004-04:00

Found this at a gas station in Trenton, MI.

also...

The video editing is coming along, slowly but surely. I'd like to have it wrapped up and ready to go for next week. I'm feeling especially short on words today. Shocker! Anyway... Here are some videos:

(ps: i love Ugly Betty)

rinse and repeat.

2009-10-13T14:21:00.015-04:00

Found this last night in the Traffic Jam bathroom. This hand dryer comes with very specific instructions. They read as follows:

1. SHAKE EXCESS WATER FROM HANDS
2. PUSH KNOB - STOPS AUTOMATICALLY
3. RUB HANDS LIGHTLY AND RAPIDLY
4. TURN LOUVER UPWARD TO DRY FACE

Got it? Good.

Also...

If you haven't done so yet, check out The Laramie Project. Rent it, stream it, hit up youtube, whatevs. You need to see it. Last night I went to the Hilberry to check out The Laramie Project : Ten Years Later (An Epilogue). I've been sticking to the ridiculous lately, so I don't wanna suck all the fun out of, what I can only assume, has been an extraordinary tuesday for you. But it IS important, so read about it here.

Lastly...

I've watched this video maybe 28 times and it still moves me. Who's excited for fourth row KC on the 25th? (!!!) Life is good.

the final countdown.

2009-10-12T15:14:00.000-04:00

Another cube rat white board. Please note the other countdown to a wedding. The bubbly hearts suggest that it will be their wedding. But they also used the same hearts to DOT THEIR I's for Taylor's name. Who does that past the age of nine?

Oy vey.

Age of employee: 37
Photographic evidence of a child they might be taking to the upcoming concert: none.
Creeper scale (1-10): 9.5

and God spake unto Moses...

2009-10-09T13:26:00.000-04:00

Here's a little backstory:

I spent a few months working at Domino Farms on a project for U of M. The office complex is ginormous. Seriously. It's nearly a mile long and I walked that mother effer every single day. Inside the massive structure, you will find a post office, radio station, convenience store, cafeteria, church, several clinics, offices, top secret labs and a Domino's Pizza store.

There are also plenty of bathrooms. Praise Jesus.

In one such bathroom, the women who worked at the Catholic radio station purchased what I'm guessing was "fancy" hand soap. At some point, the soap started disappearing, so the cute old ladies began striking the fear of God into the would-be thieves.

happy bunnies

2009-10-08T12:33:00.000-04:00

I was under the impression that the whole "happy bunny" craze was over. I was very, very wrong.

Please observe the keyboard of one of my co-workers:

Guide to being awesome at life:

1. buy happy bunny stickers (keyboard, standard edition)
2. await their arrival anxiously
3. they arrive, tear open package feverishly
4. take to work in super cool happy bunny tote
5. get to work, update facebook status ("at work. ugh! lol")
6. spend one hour placing each individual sticker on every. single. key.
7. collect paycheck
8. smile

yak.

2009-10-07T14:48:00.001-04:00

This is Phoebe:

She spends roughly three hours staring at her water bowl every day. Cats are smart like that.

Her other favorite thing to do is puke on porous surfaces regularly. She favors blankets, rugs, mats and pillows. Again, she is very smart. Either that or she harbors a lingering resentment for the people who feed her, give her treats and pet her. She leads a rough life.

So, one night she pukes (aka "yak"s) on the kitchen floor. Rather than clean up the cat yak, a paper towel was put in place to cover it up and then a note was attached.

Problem solved.

REALLy?

2009-10-06T10:43:00.000-04:00

The story goes like this...

I like to snack on pepperocinis. I eat them the way most people eat chips or pieces of candy. One night, I left out the little bowl I was using to put the stems in. I did so with the intention of disposing of them when I woke up the next day. Paul went to bed much later than I did and left me the following note:

Also, please notice that my little bowl was not the only item left on the counter that night. In fact, the glass right next to it is Paul's.

Wonkavator

2009-10-05T14:24:00.004-04:00

Where does this elevator go, exactly?

"your welcome" kthxbye

2009-09-23T11:34:00.017-04:00

Last night, McMannus and I went to the Kings of Leon concert at the Palace. It still blows my mind that they played there as the headliner. I mean, seriously. That place is ginormous and they have ONE song on the radio.

They packed in a shit ton of people, although I suspect that a substantial portion of them were there to hear, either, "Sex On Fire" or "Use Somebody". My theory may or may not have been proven correct due to the amount of people that swarmed the exits after each song was played.

The show itself was alright. I think they'd do much better in a smaller venue. Maybe The Filmore or The Fox. No lie, I started falling asleep during their first encore song. I have no idea what it was called (i was part of team "all i wanna hear is "Manhattan") but it dragged on and on and on.

The bathrooms were super interesting at the Palace and at the Post bar across the street. Never mind that there were exactly 435-ish bump-it sightings, the bathrooms were the place to be.

your welcome!

In case you can't read the bubbly 14 year-old girl pen scribble, one thoughtful patron scrawled the following in a ball point pen:

I wright
on bathroom
stalls so you
have Something to
read while you pee!
Your Welcome!

Worst e.e.cummings poem EVER.

She returned sometime later to add another blurb below...

Bill Nye would be sooo proud.

Hey I'm back
did you know the
Best hangover cure in
the world is to eat pickles
& drink water the next morning!
try it - it works!

Somewhere between the shuttle ride across the street and a quick stop at the over-priced bars in the Palace turned some lovely bump-it sporting ladies into Jean Claude Van Damme/MacGyver rage-aholics.

call me an elf one more time...

tampon? check. razor blade? double check.

it must be italian...

2009-09-21T12:09:00.031-04:00

It has been exactly 642 days since my last confession...

Seriously, it's been a while. How are you? I hope you're doing well. We have a lot to catch up on. Rather than expound upon every little detail or give a broad stroke account of the last 9 or so months, I'd like to simply change gears.

Let's just look at some photos, shall we? Great.

Welcome

Earlier this summer I was working on a project in a few satellite U of M buildings in Ann Arbor. In a tiny tucked away corner of one such building, I found a fantastic white board that the department staff had animated with a series of grievances and warnings.

"...so take off all your clothes."

It really was sweltering in that office. So hot, in fact, that I was dripping in sweat standing still.

exhibit A.

Seriously.

Umm...what?

This one set my internal danger level to orange. What in the hell was going on in that office? Cockroaches? Their entire families? Were they responsible for "killing" the fake plants? Probably.

yeah, that pretty much covers it.

hail mary, full of grace...

And last, but certainly not least... This little gem was taped to the side of a moving box at the Nissan development headquarters in Farmington Hills, MI. They really, really want you to be careful with the contents in this box:

Dear Mama Chaiken (aka Ilene, Mama C, the devil, etc.)

2009-03-09T02:15:00.014-04:00

This probably needs some editing, but i'm fired up/on a mission, so it's getting posted now...

Once upon a time, this girl (me) was trying to play it straight, when i found myself wandering through the DVD section in Target and i happened to come upon this gem:

Obvs i bought it and ran home and watched the entire season in maybe two days. I was hooked.

For me, the L word totally changed my life. I mean, this show, this one that i now loathe, made me feel like it was ok to be gay, like maybe, just maybe my options stretched beyond flannel and mullets.

Today (or really, yesterday) the series ended and I am so completely pissed off that the show has gone so completely off the deep end i can barely stand it.

No, i take that back. I can't stand it. I really can't. I think that Ilene Chaiken is a self-righteous asshole/terrible writer. She took a really amazing thing, which, ps, was totally her idea in the first place and let it mutate into something that i feel embarassed to associate myself with. The L word is now, to me, something i can barely stomach, like that god-awful Shot At Love show people keep telling me about. It's really an effing shame that it had to go like this.

The writing has gone so completely down hill that I cringe, literally CRINGE when i watch the credits and see: "WRITTEN BY ILENE CHAIKEN". Wanna know why? Because she is a terrible writer. She is sooo bad at telling stories it nearly makes my ears bleed.

I dunno. I guess I'm just pissed b/c I used to feel like the show stood for something, like i had this one great thing i could call my own that was an important representation of our "community". And now...

Tonight was the last episode, and thank g-d, because it was getting pretty rough. This entire season, and most of the last two seasons have been so bad i wanna gouge my eyes out. I kind of feel like they jumped the shark when they killed Dana/left Carmen at the alter. I mean... Really, Papi? Really?!

Who would leave her at the alter?

The answer is NO ONE.

Also, early thirty-something tennis pros do not get diagnosed with an early stage of breast cancer and then die like, two months later. It just doesn't fucking happen. You know what else doesn't happen? Um... Transmen who are nearing the end of their transition do NOT get fucking pregnant, even if they have unprotected vaginal intercourse with their gay boyfriend. Which, i mean, HELLO! So much of that (second to) last sentence doesn't make any GD sense.

She should've lived.

He should NOT have been forced to sport ANY facial hair b/c we can all safely say that none of it worked.

Ilene! You are killing me.

Scratch that. You killed Jenny. Or maybe Sounder did. Although i kind of feel like Mark did b/c Jenny obvs stole his camera for her cute/ridiculous "farewell video" or whatever the fuck that was supposed to be, aka the vagina tease that showed 2.5 seconds of Carmen off somewhere being hot/NOT having sex with Shane. I mean, SERIOUSLY!!

This shit has gotten so bad i feel embarassed for everyone involved.

(makes me miss the soul patch and i never, EVER thought i'd say that.)

Tonight, my friends and i gathered to watch the show armed with a drinking game that was totally awesome and was basically the highlight of the night (thank you, Chelsea!). And it's sad, b/c the highlight should've been all the warm fuzzy feelings we had about a show that changed us all in one way shape or form, FINALLY coming full circle.

But you know what? The show didn't even kind of come full circle, unless you count the cute deja vu moment that happened when Shane was coming home in the AM and Tina and Bette were sitting on the porch just like they did in the very first episode. You know, back when the show used to be good.

(ps: thank you Dorothy Surrenders for making these)

There was absolutely no resolution. In fact, i would say, of the few shows i have ever seen all the way through, i feel like they left way more loose ends than they tied up. I mean, even the series finale of Arrested Development felt like it concluded in some fashion b/c they were at least (!!!) closing one chapter, leaving the possibility for another one to follow.

But tonight, they just started a whole mess of shit and asked a lot questions that were never answered and only alluded to Jenny's death. THE WHOLE ENTIRE CLIFF HANGER OF THIS G-D FORSAKEN SEASON WAS ABOUT WHO KILLED JENNY AND WE DIDN'T EVEN SEE HER DIE!!

I mean, who should i have blown to get a good story out of Ilene? Worst episode ever, except maybe the one where nothing happened. Wait... that was like half 12 episodes. Or maybe the one where they threw the baby shower and everyone was talking at the same time about birthing plans for no reason whatsoever. Or every single episode beyond giving Max facial hair, or after Jenny went mean crazy and not funny crazy. I mean, W? T? F? Ilene, Ilene, Ilene...

You killed me softly tonight. You really did. Thanks for ruining something i really loved. Thanks for ending a show that changed my life in the worst way possible. Thanks for being a vagina tease all these years. Thanks for mis-representing trans issues. Thanks for killing Dana. (Thanks for at least admitting that that was a horrible idea.) Thanks for never placing value on character backstories. Thanks for Papi. Thanks for writing horrible dialog. Thanks for changing everyone's personalities constantly. Thanks for sending characters into the vortex. Thanks for making all of us want to pull out our hair out every episode of late. And most of all, thanks for being really self-righteous about it the entire fucking time.

You are a horrible, horrible writer and i am very, very disappointed in the way you handled the "conclusion" of a really fucking important show.

Thanks.

Talk to you never,
Elida

today, my number one feeling is: orange. because nothing rhymes with orange, or so im told. i really haven't looked into it.

2009-02-19T16:42:00.009-05:00

When I was younger I spent a lot of time inside my head plotting grand schemes and adventures and predicting my future. I was the weirdo kid who drew up business plans, hand crafted musical instruments out of paper towel rolls, rubber bands and shoe boxes , sketched out the blue prints for the house I was going to build and took a mob-like approach to a lemonade stand that I ran for only one, albeit, very successful day.

I was convinced that I was fully capable of coming up with a flavor of chewing gum that would revolutionize the industry, that I would write an Oscar winning screenplay at the age of 12 and that one day my family and I (because of our infinite talents and irresistible charisma) would all be famous like the Kennedy’s, except w/o the curse part.

I was always taking notes; having started a journal in the fourth grade b/c my teacher told me it was a good idea. I noted the way my parents raised me, the decisions everyone made around me and I told myself I would learn from everyone’s mistakes, thus eliminating the hassle of making my own. It would free up an awful lot of the time necessary for achieving the laundry list of shit I felt was completely within my grasp.

As the years have rolled on, I’ve had the wind knocked out of me enough times to know that with all my high hopes, I am still capable of a lot of the silly ideas I had, but I am not however, exempt from making roughly one billion mistakes along the way.

Some of my greatest (aka, favorite) ideas i've had along the way are things that I still plan to do one day.

1. Build a tree house like the one in Swiss Family Robinson.

That movie changed my life in so many ways. Have you seen the film? I still, STILL love that movie as much now as i did the first time I saw it. They live in the most amazing tree house of all time. It is my plan, to one day, build a tree house exactly like the one in the movie.

I used to throw the movie on and pause it at the appropriate times so I could fine tune the blue print I was drafting. I drew side views and front views and planned where the furniture would go and studied our Atlas for potential uncharted islands where I could set up my little get-away.

Unfortunately, the sketches I made were lost in one of our moves. But I still plan to build a tree house like theirs one day. And it won’t be one of those stupid ones I keep finding online. It has to be half fort, half house and the coconut grenades will absolutely be part of the equation.

2. Run my own company.

Technically, technically, I have already done this one. Jarvis and I started up a film company that is still in existence. However, because we have yet to finish the two films we shot and because we rarely see each other anymore, I cannot officially cross this off my list, which is why it’s here now.

In my weirdo dreams as a tot I owned a fake company with my cousin David. We named the company D.E. Electronics and to this day I have no idea what we were pretending to sell. But in the lengthy infomercial like commercials we produced, you would think we had that shit nailed down. I produced graphs and charts comparing our company to our “competitors” and explained in clear plain English, that our company was simply the best blahblahblah. I should dig up those videos.

My point is, I was practicing for the two jobs I would hold one day. The first being my job for Valassis, aka corporate America, aka the man, the second one is my current job at BPI Information Systems, which, ps, I have a hard time explaining to people just like I did w/the fake electronics company I had when I was 13.

3. Be in a band.

Ok, technically, I also did this one too/am doing it right now. BUT, since I am not in a band called Hanson, this one is also technically not completed yet.

I started guitar lessons when I was maybe 5 and then I started piano lessons maybe a year or so later that would continue for more than a few years. I have since forgotten pretty much everything I ever learned on the piano and regret that I didn’t stick with is. But, I only half regret it b/c I picked up the drums a few years after and I like the drums a lot more, so whatever.

Anyway, I was obsessed with Hanson when I was younger. They rocked my world like whoa, and I will always, always, always love them for that.

When I was younger I would very frequently cancel plans with friends or tell them I couldn’t hang out cause I was “busy” so that I could escape to my room of handmade instruments. I already owned a midget guitar, or wait… sorry--a "little people" guitar--but I needed a bass so I made one out of shit I found around the house and then made a drum kit out of pots and pans and banged on them with the handles of wooden spoons.

I had a boom box that I would record my songs on and often times I would force my sisters to play along b/c it was pretty much impossible to play all of the parts by myself and all at the same time. Oh man! I forgot about my Casio keyboard! That thing was, I am not kidding, the coolest thing ever. I also used that for my fake band and cursed my sisters for not possessing the necessary musical talent, the desire to play music with me in the first place and the dream of one day being on TRL.

Sidenote: I loved TRL when it first started. I used to tape the show and study it for my other future career…

4. Be a host on TRL and/or a radio DJ.

The boom box did double duty and also served as a tool I would use to make my own radio shows that I would spend two weeks writing, recording and producing. I would then force my mother to listen to it on her way to work and force my dad and my sisters to listen to it on our way to his house on the weekends we'd spend with him.

I would include weather forecasts and hot news stories and little anecdotes that I thought were very clever. I wasted roughly 10,000 trees drafting and revising my scripts and the different components that made it up.

I also wrote, produced, directed and edited a fake TRL I made with my BFF from middle school. We took turns hosting and there was a period of time when I was obsessed with speeding up and slowing down the film, during which time I may or may not have aimed a fan at my BFF for a fake hair product commercial.

Also, this dream will never come true b/c they cancelled the show. Boo.

5. Own my own newspaper.

Around the holidays I used to put out newsletters. And when I say “put out”, I mean I would show up at my grandma’s house and race into the den to start work on it. I would write, edit and print out exactly too many copies of my newsletter and then force everyone to read it after dinner. They always had clever titles like the “Gobbler Gazette” and the one I did at Christmas time that I can’t recall right now, but was probably equally lame.

I’d put in word searches and word scrambles and articles about whatever holiday it was inter-spliced with fake advertisements so they would know I was legit.

Ho hum.

I may or may not continue this list. Right now, i have to get back to "work". In the meantime, what were some of your crazy ideas and do you plan on ever crossing them off your proverbial list?

Discuss.

everything i needed to know in life, i learned from a cookie.

2009-02-11T13:23:00.008-05:00

Sometimes I forget that I live in a cozy little bubble. When I venture beyond it, I am reminded of how far we have yet to go as a people.

When I see shit like this:

"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.

…I have a hard time wrapping my head around why anyone would ever want to aggressively impede another person’s happiness. I just don’t get it.

So, help me understand. I doubt anyone who’s reading this right now is the kind of person who would do that, but in case any of you are, please, please, please fill me in.

REPENT!!

I wanna know what makes a person feel entitled enough to tell millions of people that they are less than, inferior and do not deserve equal rights. Is it fear? If so, is it fear of the unknown? Does it gross you out? Does it make you feel threatened? Cause last time I checked ya’ll SUCK at the marriage thing. What’s the statistic up to now? Help me remember…

Is it a religious thing? Cause I’m pretty sure the main pillars of Christianity are about love and respect and NOT judging other people. I’m pretty sure the Bible is very clear about the proverbial “us (i.e. YOU)” having no authority in that department. Isn’t that supposed to be the job of the big guy upstairs? Maybe I read it wrong.

And I know there are passages about “homosexuality”, but we could go rounds there too. Cause there’s an awful lot of contradictory shit in the b-i-b-l-e. and it’s fine if you cherry pick for what you want out of it, cause I’d probably do the same thing in your shoes. We could talk about the context with which the Bible was put together, why certain things are in there and certain things aren’t, or about how it might be—and I could be going way out on a limb here-a liiiitttle outdated.

If it’s not religion, than what is it? And even if it is religion that wigs you out, then what gives you the right? Yeah, I guess that’s what im asking. The old schoolyard adage of “who died and made you king? I’m pretty sure the answer is no one.

So, stop it.

believe it or not, this was taken BEFORE i was ready to talk about "it"

You see, when I came out to my family and friends it took me a long time, because I was afraid. I was scared shitless that they would treat me differently, that they might love me less because of something that is completely out of my control.

And, while we’re dancing around the subject I just want to quickly mention that it’s not a choice, trust me. Why would anyone choose to be hated?

Anyway, everyone was fine with it. A lot of the convos went like this:

ME: …I’m gay.
THEM: …and?
ME: that’s it. Im gay.
THEM: Oh. Ok. ::shrugs:: Sorry, I thought there was more. Well that’s cool. I mean, whatever makes you happy.

And then we’d hug it out for good measure.

It took a while, but eventually i told everyone, they figured it out on their own, heard it through the grape vine or just kind of always assumed. And none of them treated me like a weirdo, made me feel like shit, told me I was a freak, tried to change me... none of that stupid, pointless shit.

Some people in my family don’t know, and who knows, maybe they’re reading this right now. Ha.

Anyway, they either don’t know or pretend not to know and at this stage in the game, I don’t really think there’s any point to upsetting my 80 year old Pat Robertson-loving grandparents. They would most definitely freak out and they are probably 100% supportive of the discrimination they’ve legislated all over the country.

I wish I could pick their brains about it, but I’d have to tell them first, which is not happening.

One of my favorite stories w/r/t the little dance I do with my grandparents is this:

A couple winters ago I was visiting them at their home. We were chit chatting and telling stories and then I noticed a plate of cookies sitting on the counter tucked in the corner. They were on some sort of holiday themed paper plate, covered in cellophane. They looked delicious.

“Ooooh! Can I have one of these?” I asked.

My grandmother reached her arm out towards me like I’d just thrown a lit match into the gas tank of their Cadillac, “NOOO!! You don’t want those cookies.”

“Oh.” I pulled my hand away from the plate. “Are they old or something?”

“No they’re not old. They’re from,” she lowered her voice, “ the neighbors.”

I lowered my voice too, “are they terrorists?”

“No,” she said, “they’re… lesbians.”

Um… what? I was puzzled. Why the hell should that matter? They seriously looked really, really good, those cookies.

“Are they also terrorists?” I pulled the plate towards myself, “Did they put anthrax in these cookies?” I began to un-wrap the cellophane.

“Didn’t you hear me? They’re…” she lowered her voice again, “they’re lesbians.”

“They’re just cookies. You can’t catch gay from a cookie.” I picked up a cookie and raised it to my lips.

She shook her head and sighed a great big heavy sigh that said, well… at least I tried…

I ate that damn cookie and it was delicious. And I can tell you with utmost certainty that the delicious, homemade, “lesbian” cookie, that was lovingly delivered to my grandma’s front door, along with a holiday card, did not turn me gay.

Cookies cannot make you gay. Sharing a glass w/a gay person does not make you gay. Shaking hands with and/or hugging a gay person does not spread gay either. If that were the case a LOT more people would be gay. In fact, we’d all be gay. You wanna know why?

EVERYONE knows a gay person.

Statistically, we the gays, make up a tenth of our population. That means that we work with you, we’re in your family, we’re your friends, we’re your neighbors and we are no different from you on the inside. Our love just takes a different form than yours.

And I swear, we mean no harm. We’re trying to do the same shit you are. It’s just a little tougher for us, because so many people STILL think we’re freaks.

That’ll all change with the passing of time with an evolution of sorts. The older, less accepting generation will slowly die off and then it’ll be just like anything else.

Until that day, I urge you to do one of a few thing:

1. If you are gay. Keep being true to yourself and show, by example, that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

2. If you are not gay, but there’s someone in your life who is and you are totally cool with it, show your support whenever you can. It means more than you think is does, and we could really use the help.

3. If you are not gay but you hate gay people or are scared of them or think that I am crazy when I say that someone you know is gay… first of all, wow. Second of all, open that little heart of yours and let us in, yo.

Life’s too short to walk around carrying all that hate on your back.

And to my fabulous friends and family, I love you more than I could ever express adequately in words. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for never treating me like anything less than the hopeless smart-ass-nerdy-goofball that I will always be. I love you.

Let freedom ring ya’ll!

...i am still just a rat in a cage.

2009-01-26T16:47:00.002-05:00

When I was in high school I had a lot of rage issues. I was pissed off ALL the time. I was incredibly bitter and mentally unhealthy. Amidst all of my teen angst, I made what I refer to as “the list”.

The list began with only one person. At the end of high school, there were four people on it. It wasn’t a Columbine type list. I wasn’t out for blood. But I was definitely enraged. The names on the list were people who had done things I considered really shitty/unforgivable. Usually it was betrayal and I do not possess the capacity to overcome such a thing. I stay bitter and it’s really best if I never see that person again cause then I feel like the Hulk and I wanna throw cars at them.

This past week/end three new people were added to the list.

Sidenote: there were seven names on “the list” before Thursday.

Thursday night…

The ladies and I had band practice and then we decided to venture out to the new pool hall in Ferndale. We have come to love that establishment, despite of or maybe b/c of it’s ridiculous name (Loving Touch). If you haven’t been there yet, I recommend it. Just, maybe keep your eye out for the guy that roofied Kelly.

At some point during the night Kelly was drugged. We didn’t realize it until later so there’s not much we can do about it.

She wandered off like she always does and when I went to find her she was chatting it up with a big guy who was built like a starting defensive lineman. I put my arms around her and he gave me a dirty look. In my head, I thought, “um… fuck you asshole.”

Kelly was acting weird. This guys a few seats over gestured towards me, so I walked up to him.

ME: (slightly annoyed): what’s up?
HIM: is that your friend.
ME: yeah.
HIM: don’t leave her alone with that guy he’s trouble.
ME: seriously?
HIM: yeah.

So, I took Kelly away from the creeper and brought her back to our table. She was wound up and crazy and we sort of assumed she was drunk. Shortly thereafter she lost muscle control and assumed the position of a raggedy Ann. We carried her out and she spit up foam.

Thank god she made it through the night and that asshole from the bar didn’t have a chance to do anything to her.

My question is this… what in the FUCK is going on in the head of a person who drugs girls? I mean, really. How do they twist their own personal logic into thinking that it’s ok to do that? And why the hell would they want to have sex with a person who is limp and lifeless and spitting up foam? Sick motherfuckers.

So, dude from the bar… I have the memory of an elephant and I could pick you out of a line-up w/o my glasses on. You should know that you’re on my list. And if I see you out somewhere, so help you. You are in for a world of pain, fucker.

Also, in case you are wondering, I looked after her until the next day. She was shaky but ok.

Saturday night…

A group of us were at soho enjoying a few adult beverages and some delicious pizza. McMannus walked up to me way more calm than she could’ve been and announced, “um… I think some guy just stole my purse.”

The cops were called, our night came to a screeching halt and McMannus has now lost some very important possessions like an external hard drive with very important information.

The cops think they have a pretty good idea of who it is, which is absolutely fabulous b/c I wanna kick his teeth in. The first purchase he made was at the CVS down the street. He bought cough drops, cigarettes and a Verizon gift card. Really, Papi? Really?! Cough drops?

McMannus and I spent Sunday afternoon digging through trash cans and dumpsters up and down 9 mile and the back alleys, hoping, against all odds that we might find her discarded bag. Unfortunately, we did not. But we did learn a lot about my neighbors in Ferndale. Among countless treasures, we found:

1. a bouquet of flowers
2. a winter coat
3. expensive chocolates
4. nearly finished bottles of vodka and whiskey
5. and about a million coffee cups and McDonald's bags

We also discovered that the dumpster behind hungry howie's smells really, really good.

So, douche bag potential heroin addict who stole McMannus’ purse, your days are numbered, b/c you just made the list too.

I don’t know which day this happened

…but Annabell’s car was stolen. She has finally gotten in back, but they jacked it up pretty bad after taking it from in front of her house.

Speaking from experience, I can tell you that having your car stolen is really effing shitty. It happened to me once and probably happens to a lot of people who own Crysler’s. They’re pretty easy to steal, or so I’ve been told. Does that make it ok? Of course not.

We should all be able to buy whatever effing car we want and park it in front of our houses expecting to find them in the morning.

everyone needs to chill the fuck out

A part of me feels like everyone is wigging out an extra special amount b/c of the rate in which our economy is tanking. But, c’mon… Everyone needs to chill the fuck out. If you are short on cash, do not take someone else’s purse and/or wallet. That is not the answer. If you think it is, I hope I never see your face EVER, cause you’re only gonna be able to crawl away.

That also applies to stealing cars. Don’t do it. Breaking out my windows for spare change is also completely unacceptable. That has happened to me twice and it’s entirely unnecessary.

Oh, and if you’re having trouble getting laid, pick up a hooker. Do not try and drug others into having the worst, most horrifically scarring sex of their lives. You are a total fucking monster if that even crosses your mind.

the moral of the story is this…

We are living in what my grandmother refers to as “the end times”. Personally, I think it’s been a lot scarier before and it should also be noted that she’s been saying that for roughly 50 years. Anyway! My point is this: times are shitty and you need to keep your guard up.

Accept that it’s a little scarier than normal and keep an eye on your shit. Double up on any normal precautions you’d take in any situation:

If you go to the bar, don’t leave your drink unattended.

If you carry a purse, keep it on your person always.

If you drive a car or ride a bike or donkey or something, make sure you lock it up and don’t leave anything of value in plain sight (i.e. stereo face plate, change, iPod, movies, cd’s, etc.) People will steal the craziest shit.

Oh! And a really important thing my mom taught me ages ago… If you ever have mail in your car, even if it’s a magazine you subscribe to, make sure it’s face down or in a bag of some sort. If someone sees your car in a lot and likes it, they could find your house and take it in the middle of the night way easier if they know your name and address. Lord knows what else they might do.

For Christ’s sake, be safe.

VLOG is spanish for... The McMannus Edition

2009-01-08T15:01:00.008-05:00

Hello. Hi.

This week has been a little weird. So far this year (keep in mind we are only 8 days in), i have been in TWO car accidents. Count 'em, one. two.

tuesday

I was on my way downtown and everything turned to black ice. It happened so quickly i didn't even see it coming, didn't see the road beneath me glazing over in a sheet of scary fucking ice. The entire road was an ice rink. Just around the bend i could see tail lights. The highway lit up like Christmas and so the the pack of traffic i was in began to slow down. But the ice, the stupid fucking ice that we were unaware of sent us all spinning and swerving. There were a dozen of us trying to hold our wheels steady and failing.

People were hitting each other and the guard rail, and i started to fish tail. A car just ahead of me was spinning and spinning and we just missed each others' front ends as my back end whipped around and slammed into the median.

Holy shit... i thought.

wednesday

McMannus guilted me into going to Como's even though i felt like poopy shit and still kind of do. My neck HURTS and so does my back because whiplash is a motherfucker. My dad is strong arming me into going to the chiropractor tomorrow.

Anyway, so my organs felt a little rattled all day yesterday and i felt nauseous most of the day and it didnt exactly wear off as the night wore on. But i went with her cause that's what best friends do, they drag each other to once a month lesbian nights even when they dont really wanna go.

After we left stupid awkward Como's, we drove Noel to the parking lot where she left her car. McMannus started to step out of the car to give Noel a proper hug and then quickly jumped back in, closing the door, saying "um..."

And then BAM. We got t-boned. Some douchetard was backing out his space like a bat out of hell without even looking and smashed into us. Thanks!

For anyone keeping score, that's two accidents in 24 hours. Holler!

we VLOG because... we can.

Between car crashes McMannus and i vlogged. You guys.... it was kinda hot. I mean, you can totally make your own assessment. But i'm telling you, when you put two weirdos in a room with iMovie, props, hats and wine, you get some really ridiculous results.

We told some really long stories and have roughly 1 hour of footage. So im thinking i might do this in installments. The first one has absolutely no theme and/or common thread whatsoever.

Sidenote: While editing the footage i couldn't help but notice how often we break into song. It may or may not have something to do with the fact that she's a radio jock and i am in a band. I could be way off. Samsonite.

I will probably edit most of the rest of the footage into two more videos. We'll see. I think we all know how good i am at following through with creative ideas that require any more than a couple hours of work.

will post pics later... or now.

2008-12-22T22:04:00.009-05:00

Once upon a time, Katrina Gulligan and i filled out a myspace survey together. Today, we are going to do that once again. Unlike last time, we will also be writing the questions b/c all of the myspace surveys have been uber lame lately.

Who is someone that can always make you laugh?
E: Kat
K: Sarah Palin

What were you doing at 10am this morning?
E: On 8 mile dropping off my paid for lady friend from last night....needless to say i was late for work.
K: I was walking on sunshine!

What were you doing an hour ago?
E: Picking up another hooker
K: Eating mushroom soup.

Do you plan on moving within the next year?
E: Yes. I plan on moving back to Zimbabwe, my homeland.
K: Moving on up... to the east side.

Are you wearing anything on your feet?
E: Stripper heels with the fish still in them...
K: 3 pairs of socks because it's ccccold up here. Gay.

What are you looking forward to in the next 3 months?
E: I'm looking uh forward to uh the uh um...winning the nobel prize um for uh white water rafting.
K: I'm looking forward to the age of aquarius.

Do you remember your dreams?
E:(Clearly not because she's taking forever to think of a single dream) Sometimes (I waited five minutes to type that answer)
K: Yes.

Where did your last hug take place?
E: Since my hug monitor (Kat) couldn't verify my last two hours in the hug log...i'm going to say Kat in an alley.
K Actually it was in a foyer.

Have you been to a baby shower?
E: I'm mexican what do you think?!
K: No, and baby's raining would be all sorts of weird.

What cell phone company do you use?
E:
K:

What color is your hair brush?
E: Glittery rainbow.
K: Mauve

Do you watch the Super Bowl?
E: Do a dogs lips move when he reads?
K: Shit son. Not since dinosaurs roamed the earth.

What about World Cup?
E: No. I don't believe in soccer.
K: Yes, when that girl took off her shirt like 10 years ago.

Do you sleep with a teddy bear?
E: Maybe....who's asking?
K: No....only a mermaid.

What is the last movie you watched?
E: Debbie Does Dallas
K: Debbie Does Dallas Again.

What movie do you think everyone should watch?
E: Debbie Does Dallas
K: Debbie Does Dallas Again.

What is your middle name?
E: Consuela
K: Diane Neal

Do you have your future children's names picked out?
E: But of course - ready? Ok: Malachi, Ezekiel, Jeremiah (like the bullfrog), Templeton, Gert and Huey.
K: Gulliver, Xanga, Dotcom, and Thor.

What color is your mailbox?
E: Gold??????????????????????????????????????????
K: Whatever color it wants to be that day

Do you have to drive over a bridge to get home?
E: Only a bridge over troubled water unless the levee breaks.
K: Some bridge to terabithia

How many cars can fit in your driveway?
E: 13.43333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333333
K:1975.32 (you can stack them)

Who was your Kindergarden teacher?
E: My grandma, actually
K: Miss Moaner

Are you taller than your mom?
E: Only on tuesdays and thursdays (see stripper heels above) which is why i visit on saturdays
K:No, but I'm taller than your mom. I talled your mom last night actually

Do you have any bruises right now?
E: Yes...i was in a cage fight last night....but you should have seen the other guy....you can still see his dental records, but that's about it.
K: I'm the other guy.

Are you cold right now?
E: No, i'm sitting in an oven. I keep my room at Hansel and gretal temperature. It's roughly 140 degrees celsius right now.
K: I'm sweating my proverbial balls off

Do any of your close friends have kids?
E: Just your five kids
K: No....i have a strict rule against procreation that I enforce with homosexuality

Do you know anyone who is pregnant right now?
E: Well, me.
K: Yeah 3 people! And i might be a god mother....oh geez

How many years older and younger than you are you willing to date?
E: 53 Years give or take
K: 2 months younger....50 years older

What brand are your favorite jeans you own?
E: Osh Kosh B'gosh
K: Gloria Vanderbilt

What is the closest red object to you?
E: Mars
K: A Panda

What is your favorite video game?
E: Original Mario Brothers
k: Oh geez. Mario Kart, Beetle Adventure Racing, Cool Boarders 3, Wave Race....SPYRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!, Goldeneye, Perfect Dark. Toy Story, Mario Part. Super Mario Brother 3

Do you play games on your cell phone?
E: I don't play games. Period.
K: You keep saying to quit playing games with your heart.

Do you look more like your mom or dad?
E: I look like the milk man
K:I look like i'm adopted

Have you ever broken a pinata?
E: I'm mexican....I can't afford a pinata
K: I merked that bad boy.

If someone doesnt like you its probably because:
E: Because they're busy hating the player and not the game
K: They're jealous of the perfect package
just kidding.

Who was the last person in your bedroom?
E: your girlfriend
K: my girlfriend

Have you ever crawled through a window?
E: Yeah!!! OMG I had to break into my house, two weeks ago....it wasn't until I tried to take the tv out of the house and the police were called that I realized it wasn't my house. it happens a lot.

Do you lose your keys often?
E:No i keep them on a hook i had that i had implanted into my uh neck...but it's magnetic so even if i bend over it doesn't fall off
K: I don't want to talk about it

When was your last encounter with the police?
E: Undercover cop. drugs. prostitutes may or may not have been involved.
K: It was when I got kicked out of canada....please.

Do you sing in the shower?
E: YES! Showtunes!
K: No.... I don't have a shower....or vocal cords for that matter.

My three favorite things today:

Eric's mustache.

JP:

And hanging out with Kat.

it's about effing time.

2008-12-19T15:37:00.010-05:00

Guess what? I may or may not have started, stalled and then abandoned 15,000 blog posts. Holler for ADD and indecision! I have no idea how to combine all of them and/or edit them so I’m just going to start from scratch and do a “this is crap I am basically in love with right now” post. I’d do a “year in review” post, but I don’t really wanna talk about 2008. We’re still in a fight.

1. Fourfour

I found his blog through Riese many moons ago and I love it. I had been a little sluggish about my online reading which had a lot to do with number nine on this list. Fourfour does recaps of America’s Next Top Model, a show I’ve watched a handful of times. His screencaps paired with commentary are so spot on and hilarious that I have read nearly all of them. And I’m fairly certain that show has been on since the Brady Bunch did their variety show. Funny. Very, very funny.

2. This article

It’s called “15 Favorite Most Ridiculous Women” aka “15 Women Gay Men Love”. As the daughter of a gay man I understand the sort of unspoken obsession/love one has for people like Madonna and Liza and Whitney and Kathy Lee. It’s on par with watching/singing along to ‘Hello Dolly’ and possibly doing the can-can in the living room and maybe also watching ‘p.s. I love you’ with a box of Kleenex and cookies.

Much like the aforementioned activities, appreciating divas for their general fabulousness is undoubtedly coupled with watching their train-wreck selves say stupid shit and throw compacts at Madonna a la Courtney Love. This article is the pies de resistance, the best of the best, the homecoming court of crazy, if you will.

3. Riese’s Blog

She’s basically my hero. Reading her blog feels like going home. And as a person who doesn’t really remember what that feels like in real life, I really appreciate the shit out of finding it with my eyes on the internets. She’s made me laugh and she’s blown me away. It’s better than CATS, which, ps, I hate. (see also, The Phantom of The Opera, Romeo and Juliet and a play I did at HFCC a million years ago called 24 Hours to Live?)

Right now, she has a blog up about her hilarious mothers and their Chanukah wish lists. I was fighting the urge to roll on the floor laughing my ass off when I read it yesterday. I’m telling you, she’s funny.

4. Gmail, Gmail Chat, etc.

I heart Gmail. It’s just fabulous. It has its quirks like any other free web mail provider (i.e. you cant sort your email into file folders) but mostly it’s just awesome. It’s fast and the junk mail filter is awesome and they offer Gmail Chat which is about a million times better than any other chat program. I don’t even wanna talk about Facebook chat. We’re in a fight too b/c it fucks up all the time and makes me wanna pull my hair out. But Gmail, they got it right. The chat rarely times out, does not putz regardless of your internet speed (which is a big deal in my house now) and if you turn on the sound the little chime is not even slightly annoying.

5. Pepperocini’s

One of my failed blog entries was filled with three pages of me waxing crazy on how much I love pepperocinis. I really do love them a lot. I brought a jar of them to our recording sessions in Algonac and Chelsea looked at me like I had opened a jar of monkey testicles and started putting them in my life. I swear to you, pepperocinis are delicious. Theyre spicy and pickled and delicious. Holler!

6. This incident:

11.04.08

I engaged in one of the strangest text message convos of all time with the contact labeled in my phone as “Jay (soho)”. The following has been edited to spare any permanent emotional scarring:

ME: get your ass out and vote!
JAY: sure will! Who is this?
ME: It’s Elida.
JAY: ok cool. I’ll add you to my contacts.
ME: cool. :)

Then I received a call from him the following morning, which I missed b/c I was taking a shower. I thought it was weird and then…

JAY: Call me.

I looked at my phone and thought, that’s weird. Jay never calls me. But it can’t be that important b/c he didn’t leave a voicemail. Then, he called me AGAIN. I was annoyed so I ignored it. Of course, he decided to text me again.

JAY: Call me.
ME: Can’t. I’m at work.
JAY: What, you don’t eat lunch?

I mean, really, who asks that? So I decided to be a smart ass.

ME: Nope.
JAY: When do you get off work?

Then I thought, ok, what the fuck? Who is this guy and why is he pestering the shit out of me. There’s no way this is the Jay I know. Maybe Jay changed his number and I am somehow communicating with some random person. So, I decided to make shit up.

ME: I’m working late. I have a big project. I’m probs be burning the midnight oil.
JAY: Where do you work?

Really, Papi? Really?

ME: Deloitte. (hi, Michelle!)
JAY: When do you get off work?
ME: Where do you work?
JAY: When do you get off work?
ME: Answer my question.
JAY: What question?
ME: omg, where do you work?
JAY: Bridge Water.

Bridge Water? I googled it. Nothing came up.

Then several hours passed. He sent this:

JAY: So, I really want to figure out how I know you.
ME: I really don’t see the point.

I mean, really? What’s the point? I could tell he was a dude cause most dudes usually are waaayyy more aggressive and forward, especially via text. And then, he sent this:

JAY: Well, I’m single and looking for my queen. Could that be you?

I literally LOL-ed so intensely that I spit all over my phone. Cheese-tastic!

ME: Sorry but im a gay lady.
JAY: And?

Oh, gross. I HATE when straight guys think they are god’s gift to every woman on the planet. To those guys, the obnoxious ones like this guy, being gay means nothing to them. They don’t get it. They see a lesbian and they think: how can I get her to sleep with me and her lady friend at the same time? Newsflash to every straight guy everywhere: Lesbians do not want to have sex with you. If they wanted to, they’d be bi. So stop asking/alluding. Thanks. I digress…

ME: And I only date other gay ladies.
JAY: What’s wrong? Can’t handle a real man cant add real meat instead of plastic?

What? The? FUCK?! I was all, “aww heeeelllll noooo!” I slammed my phone shut and tried not to puke. Gross. Gross. Gross. And how fucking forward. What was he thinking? Omg. Omg. Omg.

ME: gross. I just threw up in my mouth.
JAY: hey, don’t you play guitar?

Dum. Dum. Dum.

I reeled back. What did he just ask me? How does this bastard know me?

ME: yeah.
JAY: I know how I me you. It was at a concert. We talked about playing a show together w/both our bands.
ME: hahaha. Wow.
JAY: we should jam together.

Hahaha. No thanks, Jay. You are officially cut off and furthermore, you should not really be allowed to talk to people. You are a creep ass. I’m still a little confused as to why he insists on texting me almost daily, at least once to say, “hey sexy.” I mean, c’mon. It’s been WEEKS since his disgusting comments and I have yet to respond to anything.

And then he sent me a picture via text message. This was maybe three days ago. I open my phone and see that it’s from, sick ass Jay and I rolled my eyes. Picture message? I braced myself and opened the message.

Of course, it was a picture of an 8 person orgy and the message read: “if u were 2 walk past this wud u walk away or join in? pass this on and find out who ur freaky friendz r!!!”

Ew.

7. This Snow!!

A soon as I leave work in t-minus 15 minutes, I am heading home to bundle up and then I plan on rolling in the snow til dinner time. A sled may or may not be involved. I mean, have you looked outside today? It’s amazing!

8. The Dark Knight

I’ve been watching that movie on loop, Blockbuster video store style since I got my hands on it a few days ago. Love it. It’s so good and it gets better every time I watch it. You know what probably doesn’t get better every time you watch it? “p.s. I love you”. That was the saddest effing movie I have ever seen. I cried through almost the entire thing. I mean, Christ. I cannot remember the last time I laughed whilst crying so hard I was choking. Saddest movie ever.

Wanna know what movie wont make you cry? Um… The Dark Knight? Why? Because there’s no crying in baseball. Wait… That’s not right.

9. Backgammon

I have already accepted the fact that I am 80 years old on the inside. The sooner you do too, the better. I play backgammon every single day and I have no idea why. Well, I mean, clearly I’m in love with it, so that’s probably why. But, the game is really not that amazing. But my brain seems to think so. I sit down at my computer and I think to myself, “you know what I should do right now? Play backgammon.”

In case you’re wondering, absolutely no one will play the game with me, so I have to play the computer, which is fine cause shes an animated lady and shes kinda pretty. So, I mean, that’s fine. Val tried to play with me while she was home and then accused me of making up the rules, even though she hasn’t played since the early nineties when she was practically just hatched. For real, val, I would not hussle you at backgammon cause I love both of you so much.

Even after I pulled out the official rules she claimed that I made those up too, “yeah but you found those on the internet,” she said.

“I got these from, like, the official backgammon society or whatever. It’s legit.”

Shaking her head, “I don’t wanna play anymore. This game sucks. And you’re cheating.”

10. Life

I couldn’t think of anything to put for number ten besides my favorite on-ramp. And I would’ve included that, but it’s closed for construction right now, so… It doesn’t get to make any lists until it re-opens and starts bringing joy to my life again.

But, it’s totally all good cause I’m so high on life I barely noticed. Holler! And I know that might sound crazy, and it’s probably annoying to be around, but I am really happy to be alive and writing this and working and breathing and drinking this bottle of Aquafina. I’d like to close with one of my favorite movie quotes of all time:

it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life... You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry... you will someday.

Merry Christmas ya’ll! Wheee!

"The time has come," the Walrus said, "to talk of may things."

2008-10-09T16:01:00.056-04:00

I've been feeling very quiet lately, which is probably why I haven't posted in a while. I'm not sad or super happy, I'm somewhere in the middle. I feel the sort of contentment you do when a lot has changed but you come out the other side of, yet another failed something or other, and you've survived, so it's ok.

I'm living with my dad(s) now officially. I'm all unpacked and I absolutely adore living there. It's really, really lovely. I like spending the time with my dad(s) and there isn't a lot of overhead lighting. I'm surrounded by beautiful things and there's always something on the stove or in the fryer.

I was walking through downtown Ferndale the other day and I felt really content. I love fall and I love this town and all of the people in it. I feel like I've taken some sort of happy pill/sedative combo. I have no idea what i want out of anything, from anyone or what i want to do with my life. And I'm really ok with that.

Right now, not knowing is the greatest feeling ever. I've known too much this year, carried so much weight on my shoulders that a break from that sort of responisibility/anxiety is so incredibly fabulous, I'm having a hard time expressing it w/o sounding incredibly cheesy/lame.

I thought about throwing my phone in the pond yesterday and not to be emo or dramatic; it just seemed like a good idea. But if there was an emergency id be fucked/out of the loop, so i didn't. But I really like this sort of disconnect I've felt these past few weeks.

It's even stranger b/c of the election and the state of our nation/the economy. There are so many things to freak out about. But I've done the best I can thus far and I will do my part again in november and there's not much i can change beyond that, so why get all worked up?

See, what I mean? It's creepy how calm I've been lately. Although, I should specify that by "calm", I mean I have basically avoided anything that would upset me.

For instance... any and all serious conversations are pretty much avoided completely whether they are via text, in person, over the phone (ps, i HATE talking on the phone to most anyone save for the people who live out of state who i never get to see) or email or whatever. I drop everything even slightly scary like a hot potato/bad habit/some other cliche and walk away. I just don't care.

I don't think I have the capacity to care for much right now. I'm a little tapped out in that department.

Lately, I identify a lot with this guy:

I've got sort of a hallow-tin-chest thing going on. It's really nice, though. Trust me. This is me being honest, not emo. I feel fantastic.

A lot of shit has gone down this year and I feel like I'm finally seeing a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. I feel like I'm doing a good bit of growing up too, which is pretty awesome.

I spend most of my nights at home working on music and watching my girlfriend on the teevee.

[Sidenote: I stage managed a production of The Wiz once. It was pretty awesome. When i went searching for a picture of The Tin Man, I thought back to the show I worked on at HFCC (ps: i think i learned more there than i did anywhere else even though i hated being there. they were underfunded and the director was a jack ass and everything smelled like a rotten appendage. but, dammit, i learned how to run a show and adopted a newfound aversion to sardines, almonds and shirts with holes in them. Anyway, here's a picture from that production.]

As of late, I have been fighting a bitch of a cold. I have officially annoyed the shit out of the few people I work with because of my incessant coughing. I have promised them on a number of occasions that I am doing everything in my power to fight the coughing. But still, the coughing continues. I'd stay home from work, but I'd rather be making money. And I've always had this rule, first put in place by my mother: "if you're not projectile vomiting, you're fine. go to work/school/wherevs". And she's right. I mean, personal obligations, like dinner plans or a movie or something, I've been cancelling those left and right cause I'm basically a walking sess pool of germs. But I will not skip out on work. I've never skipped out on work for a cold in my entire life.

Once, I had a tooth pulled on my lunch break, went back to work and finished out the day, gauze and all. Another time I lost my voice for three days in a row and I still went in every single day I was scheduled. I had my wisdom teeth pulled on a friday and by sunday i was still really swollen and miserable and the power was out in our house and most of our town and it was the dead of winter, but I still went to work because I was scheduled and we had generators to sell.

So, I definitely did not give even a moment's thought to not coming in to work. I don't care how annoying I am with my coughing. I want a normal paycheck, dammit. And since they won't put me on the health care plan yet, I feel like they deserve to listen to my cough.

One good thing about staying in and not getting sloshed on an all too regular basis is that I don't wake up feeling like shit anymore. Even with the cold, I feel better in the morning than I have in years. I know it's not rocket science, but some of us(mostly just me, probably) are a lot slower at learning some things.

I've become a little loopy and a lot goofier, I think. Exhibit A: band practice this past friday. I was swaying around a lot more than usual and doing a sort of interpretive dance to a couple songs. I think I probably acted a lot like I do when I'm drunk, just a lot quieter.

So, let's play catch-up on everything that you've missed since I last posted something here (a month and a half ago, ps)...

My dad's birthday was a hot mess. This photo really captures how ridiculous/fun that night was.

Then, less than a week later, I had my birthday. Jack Sparrow made me a hat. It was supposed to be a platypus.

Then, McMannus had her birthday. It started with hand made unicorn costumes...

and ended, like so many other nights at Soho do: on the 9 mile pony...

Roughly a week or so later (give or take, my memory is cloudy), I invented the bluetooth. You're welcome.

A few weeks after that, someone wrote this on the bathroom stall. And, ps, as of a few weeks ago, Soho started smelling absolutely awful. I mean, make you wanna vom, awful. It basically smelled like musty basement, wet, stale cigarettes, 3 day old caramelizing beer, and poopy shit.

The women's bathroom smelled like crotch rotch. And i apologize for using the term, but it is completely and totally accurate. I threw up in my mouth a little bit and i only had one drink. Trust me. It was bad.

I think it was because no one was cleaning the bathroom. There was a red shirt in the big handicapped stall that remained there for at least a week. I know, because i took pictures of it on my phone and sent it to Chelsea.

the nasty ass shirt:

the writing on the wall:

The other night at band practice, I caught Noel's cat Onyx drinking out of the toilet.

Thanks, to a one, Ms. Chelsea Fucking Carter, I have been listening to Adele somewhat obsessively. Now, before you start talking crazy, I am still madly in love with Missy Higgins and I've been playing "Secret" a lot lately (on the guitar. it's 3 notes, ps. ha!). But! I cannot get this song out of my head:

"Cold Shoulder" - Adele

And can we talk about how amazing Amy Poehler is at rapping?

I literally LOL-ed when I saw this the first time. Love, love, love it. I mean, she's soooo ready to pop and she's rapping with guys dressed up as Eskimos while shooting a different guy in a moose costume. I can't believe she's still on the show cause that kid is gonna come popping out in 2.5. Seriously. I feel like her water's gonna break in the middle of a show. And how funny is that kid gonna be? For anyone who doesn't already know, she's married to Will Arnett from Arrested Development (one of the greatest shows ever, ps) and Blades of Glory. They played husband and wife in the former and brother and sister in the latter. Both were hysterical.

Remember when "that's what she said" entered popular culture? Yeah, I do. It was funny, maybe the first 100 times I heard it and then a good friend of mine (for the sake of anonymity, we'll call him "Joe") picked it up and decided to run with it. I am not exaggerating when I say that, for the better part of a year, he could be counted on to say it after every single slight innuendo that would come up in conversation.

When he started saying it before anyone spoke, we knew it was probably time to cut him off.

Now, it's been quite some time since I've heard anyone throw the phrase around, but I made the mistake of talking about how much I hate it the other day while emailing Dave and Jen. This is what transpired after:

JEN's FRIEND: I had some fries today, for shame. I didn't eat too many, though, b/c they were thick and I like skinny, crispy ones.
JEN: Where did you go?
JEN'S FRIEND: Campus.
JEN: Jealous. I like the big thick ones.

JEN'S RESPONSE (to her own comment): That's what she said.

And then I heard from Dave...

JEN: Elida hates when people end things with "that's what she said". We have to be sure to start doing it around her a lot.
DAVE: That's what she said.

I can honestly say that I literally LOLed at their emails. Oh, btw, I think they stand a good chance at posing as the couples inside picture frames. Exhibit A:

I <3 Dave and Jen!

So, it's fall and the leaves are turning colors and I want to go for a walk or go to a cider mill or something. Oh! And i wanna bake apple pies. I freaking love apple pies. I would sell my first born into slavery for one of my mom's apple crisps. I swear to allah, i would totally do it.

I'd like to leave you with the following three videos:

1. "Run So Fast" Missy Higgins Live @ The Blind Pig 10.12.08: Chelsea took this video with my camera. Missy is so damn good and you won't find this song anywhere else yet...

2. Rachel Maddow (aka my gf): she rocks my world.

3. Julia Nunes: this girl tears some shit up on the ukulele. Check out her cover of "Survivor" by Destiny's Child:

you are so cut off.

2008-09-03T14:32:00.023-04:00

I have something important that I want to say.

If you get angry/mean/antagonistic when you're drunk and the only person every laughing is you, please do not drink around me. Ever.

For some reason, the mean drunks like to pick on me and it's really annoying. Last night, for instance...

After dealing with a very emotional phone call from a certain friend I made my way to Soho to join my father in his pre-birthday celebration. P-freaking-S everybody!!! My dad's birthday is today. Happy Birthday dad!!

So we were up at Soho last night and i felt like it was Dean 2.0 or something. some guy my dad sort of knows through Angela started harassing me like crazy. i sat down and within two seconds he started up:

HIM: i feel like I've met you before, but i don't remember your name.
ME: Yeah i dunno. I'm not great with names either. It's all good.
HIM: well we're meeting again now, so, this time make yourself memorable.
ME: [pause] um, ok. [sarcastically] ready? go!

Now, before i continue, let me give you a little preface of sorts. The words that left this guy's mouth were almost entirely saturated in a condescending tone. Every word sort of oozed from his lips and his body language said that we were lucky to drink in every word.

However, i respectfully disagree. It's the same story I've told maybe a thousand times, just with different players. Man #1 is "normally" a nice guy, until he gets drunk and/or high and then he's an asshole. To me, this excuse is tired and annoying. If you turn into a monster when you get drunk, don't get drunk. It's obnoxious and then people stop returning your phone calls and turning their backs on you in public places.

Yeah, I've stop talking to people like that. It happens.

Meanwhile, back at Soho...

HIM: So, what are you going to school for?
ME: computer science.
HIM: yeah, but i mean, like for what?
ME: i work in IT, so I'm finishing up my bachelors so i can make more money and have a little more job security.
HIM: yeah but what's your specialty?
ME: networking.
HIM: what kind?
ME: network management.
HIM: meaning?
ME: you know, i don't really like talking about work.

Remember the tone!!! It's all about the damn tone.

Later on, we were standing at the bar asking for another drink...

HIM: how long does it take you to do your hair?
--time the hell out! does this sound familiar to anyone but me?--
ME: (!!!!!!) ha. um, i dunno, a few minutes.
HIM: you're lying.
ME: Ok.
HIM: seriously, how long does it take you?
ME: a few minutes.
HIM: you're lying.
ME: whatever.
HIM: you have very small ears.
ME: ok.
HIM: do you like having small ears?
ME: im fine with it.
HIM: really?
ME: yes.
HIM: but they're so small.
ME: so what? i don't care. (this is where i start biting my nails b/c I'm annoyed)
HIM: don't bite your nails.
ME: listen, don't tell me what to f**kin do.
HIM: oh, god. you and those small ears.

later on, at the table...

...and in between him starting to make a comment and my dad telling him very sternly, "watch it.":

HIM: [to me, from across two tables] your ears are so small.
PAPA BEAR: so f**kin what? I said, 'watch it'. quit talking about her damn ears.
HIM: [ignoring him, adressing me still] I've never seen someone with ears so small.
ME: Ok.
HIM: what's wrong? you seem upset.
ME: I'm not upset. i don't know what you're trying to do, if you're trying to get a rise out of me or something, but you're barking up the wrong tree. i don't give a damn what you think about my ears or my hair or my name or whatever.

I was smiling the whole time he was trying to get a rise out of me. It was bizarre. My dad asked me later why i didn't talk about his hair, b/c it was disgusting. I just told him i really didn't want to give him an excuse to drag out another stupid conversation.

I'm only sharing it now as a sort of public service/case study. This is Exhibit 842: another drunk asshole bugs the shit out of me on the patio.

It's weird how certain men will sit down with us, get wasted and then start picking on me. I feel like maybe they're projecting or something. As far as I'm concerned, if your friends have to walk out after you, turning back and saying, "i swear, he's normally a nice guy", you should probably stop drinking.

I know this was short, but I wanted to post it quick so it won't get lost in the post i will be doing tomorrow or the day after. It's gonna be chock full of whatever happens tonight.

I'd like to leave you with this:

This is me and Val sword fighting with bread sticks. I think it was two Christmases ago. Miss you Val!!

omg this weekend, you guys...

2008-08-25T02:21:00.046-04:00

I had the best weekend ever! (last weekend of course. Sorry for the delay in posting)

But before I get to that I would like to share something with you.

I am a voicemail pack rat. It's hard not to be when you have friends like Kat and Chelsea and Eric that leave you ridiculous voicemails that you can't bear to part with. The trouble is, I save so many of them that my mailbox fills up, like a lot. All the time. My actually mailbox is kind of like that too. But only because I hate opening mail.

When I was little I used to love getting mail. I'd get Highlights or something and I was like, "OMG I JUST MAIL!!" Imagine how excited I was when AOL first came out. You know, "You've got mail." Holla!

Anyway I hate mail now. It makes giant piles and I dread digging through all of it. But voicemails I save cause they're too funny not to.

So, my voicemail inbox has been full for...we're probably going on a few days now. I went through the three new ones and erased them. I didn't have room for much else, apparently. And because of that fact, I decided to do a little house/phone/voicemail cleaning. End of summer closeout, if you will.

Among all sorts of good stuff that I could not part with was one from Eric that I must've received when I was drunk. I have no recollection of hearing it a single time before today. He must've been drunk when he left the voicemail. And I quote:

Hello Elida Harris. I thought I would call and Harris you.
And by Harris, I mean harass
And by her ass, I mean her booty
And by her booty, I mean her badunk-a-dunk
And by her badunk-a-dunk, I mean something to put your mug on
And by something to put your mug on, I mean coffee table
And by coffee table, I mean mahogany wood
And by mahogany wood, I mean ancient forests
And by ancient forests, I mean Sasquatch territory
And by Sasquatch territory, I mean some very dirty lesbians
And some very dirty lesbians, I mean some very fun times
And that is all I have to say. Good night.

I love Eric a lot.

Let's start at the very beginning/a very good place to start...

Friday was our show in Chesterfield. That place was nothing short of amazing. Let the record show that NY/NY was a spectacular venue. I must admit I was a little skeptical due to the location (the middle of nowhere) and the fact that it was in a strip mall (and basically looked like a Halloween USA from the outside).

Sweet Jesus, once we were inside our jaws hit the floor. Look at the stage we played on:

NY/NY is easily the best venue we've played yet. They served food and alcohol and the smoke eaters made it so the whole place felt like a non-smoking section regardless of your proximity to an actual lit cigarette.

The lights were intense. I had, without exaggeration, 100 different ADD moments while up there. Which reminds me, Emily said something to me the other night that was so dead on I felt like she could read minds. She said, "what do you think about when you're onstage? Cause it looks like you're thinking about a million other things that are completely unrelated."

She's right. My mind wanders. I try super hard not to let it, but with the lights and shiny things all over the places we play, it's hard not to.

Regardless of the distractions, the show was great. The crowd was great. I was on cloud nine. And! They had the most delicious spinach and artichoke dip. Ever. It was damn good I wanted to marry it. But not really, cause, you know, gays can't marry.

POP!

Saturday was interesting. I think it was the longest we have ever been in a venue before we've actually gone on for our set. Total time spent between arrival and actual performance: almost 5 hours.

Once we got onstage it was totally worth the wait. The audience made up of mostly theatre kids got really into it. There was clapping, swaying, dancing, fake moshing and Chelsea ended up with underwear on her head. One of the guys threw them onstage.

The stage:

The crowd:

We even got called back for an encore, which has never happened before. AND we got asked to sign autographs. We received the request from an older gentleman that was inexplicably in attendance. I don't think he knew anyone involved in the play or the film. We had certainly never seen him before. During our set he was jumping around in his chair, (sort of) keeping time, slapping his knee over and over.

While we were packing up, he approached Chelsea and then we all took turns signing. Here's me signing my fake name:

PS: A special thank you to Kyle for always taking pictures of us, for coming to all of our shows and for being awesome in general.

Anyway, so we all signed our autographs on the back of the program and he took a flyer with our band contact info on it. Today, I was checking our band email and found this little gem:

Subject: Curious & Interested ;~

Hello Elida Quesada.

This is Eugene, you signed an autograph for. I am curious if you meant what you wrote me, when you sign your autograph. Just to jog your memory a little, you
wrote: I <3 Eugene. Would you be interested, also? You may reply to:
takemydog0123@yahoo.com This is my address. Hope to hear from you. Tell
Chelsea, Noel & Kelly I said hi.

Take care!
May God bless all of you!
Eugene

[sindenote: It goes without saying that I changed his name and only slightly altered his email address b/c I thought it was so funny.]

This, I am hoping, is the beginning of something even more spectacular than I had envisioned when the ladies and I started playing together. You see, "Eugene" was an older guy. If I had to guess, I would say that he's in his early 70's. What little left he has of his snow white hair was swept over his scalp in a comb over. Total hottie.

Now, I want to make it clear that I really do <3 Eugene. His enthusiasm during our show made me really happy. But I am a gay lady and I am not interested in, say, going to dinner with him. I do sincerely hope that more people will ask for my autograph and then ask me out via email. Especially old dudes. Bring 'em on!

hello pot, this is the kettle...

I forgot to mention this story before. Not sure why, but it just popped into my head so I am going to share it with you now.

A few weeks ago I was up at Soho w/the usual suspects. We were sitting out on the front patio telling stories and joke and enjoying what little there is left of summer. At one point I told a joke and my dad started cracking up. He sat back in his chair, head up, laughing his ass off.

At that same moment this crazy bastard came walking out of the bar. Everyone calls him Groucho, because he has big, thick, cartoonish eyebrows tattooed to his forehead. He's rail thin, average height with a clean shaven head that is covered in tattoos that look like hair. I am almost positive that he does not have Alopecia because he has hairy legs.

He wears skin tight sleeveless tshirts and even tighter spandex biking shorts. The shorts make him, in essence, a walking anatomy lesson. He has been known to get a little crazy, yelling at total strangers and launching into stories about getting kicked out of Como's for dressing "inappropriately". Frankly, I'm surprised they would kick anyone out of Como's.

I digress.

So, just as my dad was throwing his head back in laughter, Groucho walks out the front door, through the patio and onto the sidewalk. He stopped at my father and leaned in saying very clearing, "Eat shit and die you fuckin' Nazi."

Groucho started walking away and my turned to him with a flabbergasted look on his face, mouth open hands in the air as if to say, "what the hell are you talking about".

Apparently Groucho is a mind reader, paused, turned around and said, "oh, like I don't know."

My dad's eyebrows narrowed, "Fuck you."

Groucho smiled placing his hand over his heart, "oh yeah, I'm real hurt," and continued walking away.

We all sort of looked at each other, like "what the hell?"

Darryl chimed, "that man is crazy."

Fast forward to two weeks ago

Darryl, Steve and I were sitting at the exact same table out front having a few drinks, shooting the shit. Groucho appeared again, as if from nowhere (like always) and walked up to our table. I guess he was kicked out of Como's again for being dressed like he always dresses. You know, the anatomy lesson costume... None of us really had anything to say.

Steve is such a nice guy that will sometimes entertain the craziest of crazies, including Groucho. Steve conversed with him, not sure of what to say, other than "hmm." I was trying not to laugh so I grabbed my phone out and started texting.

Steve and Groucho's convo went like this:

GROUCHO: So, I walked into Como's and that skeletor bitch owner stopped me just inside the entrance. She told me I was dressed inappropriately, that I could only come in if I changed my clothes.
STEVE: Hmm...
GROUCHO: So, I says, "fuck you. your food sucks anyway." And i came back here cause there's nothing else to do in this shit hole town.
STEVE: [nervous laughter] Yeah, i don't know what to tell you. That sucks?
GROUCHO: Well, fuck them. I'm debating whether or not I want a drink.
DARRYL: [muttering under his breath] Go for it, honey. But you can't sit with us.
GROUCHO: What's that?
DARRYL: [sharply] I said, go for it honey.
GROUCHO: Oh, really? Darryl, you are such a bitch.
DARRYL: [wide smile] Thank you. Thank you.
GROUCHO: Oh, fuck off, Darryl.

Groucho started walking away and just as he was about to go out of ear shot Darryl shouted, not looking up from his Real Detroit, "CUUUUHHHHHRRRAAAAAAAZZZZZZYYYYYYYY!"

We wanted to kill Darryl and also thank him, because I am very sure now that Groucho and his gross ass pants and crazy Nazi accusations will stay the hell away from us.

i take a whiskey drink. I take a vodka drink...

Sunday night was a fabulous way to put a bookend on the weekend. It was one of those nights when we've only intended to stay for one drink and then all of a sudden "the bar is closing in 20 min".

It was a nice little motley crew: my dads, Jen, Dave, Darryl and Jeremy was kind of in an out. It's hard to recount the night without doing so in a sporadic manner.

Dean ended up sitting with us for one reason or another. To put it simply: I cannot fucking stand Dean. I wouldn't say I hate him, but he's awfully close. My dislike for Dean has been long running. It began just over a year ago. I had just chopped all my hair off and he was super toasty drunk.

Dean is a mean drunk. I was sitting at the bar with my dad and a few others and Dean started talking to me. I had never met the man before. He sort of skipped right past any formal introduction and asked me what kind of product I used in my hair. I told him and he rolled his eye, "you don't know what you're doing."

He leaned forward in his chair, stretched his arm out and ran his hand through my hair. His fingers got caught a little and he sort of yanked them out. I had a shit ton of hair spray in my hair, because it's thick and wavy and I have to force it to be anything but. He totally jacked my hair up and I wanted to kill him immediately.

"See, I should be able to run my fingers through your hair. You're using too much product and the cut looks like shit." He took a long drag from his cigarette and sat back.

I was instantly fuming, "Okay, listen. What's your name again? Don't fucking touch my hair. Ever. I will chop your fucking arm off. That was rude and you're an asshole. Fuck off."

Dean is the kind of guy who will sit at your table uninvited and do whip-its mid-sentence or excuse himself to do poppers in the bathroom. All the while he is usually already blindingly drunk. And he's mean when he's drunk. I always want to punch him when I see him and notice that he is intoxicated. One of these days I'm going to and he won't be ready for it.

One time he was doing whip-its in front of everyone while lecturing us about the dangers of smoking. He had quit maybe two months ago and thus became an expert on the subject. If he would've taken his own advice, he wouldn't have started back up again maybe a week later.

This past Sunday, he ended up at our table nearing his angry drunk state, smoking and rambling on about his extensive knowledge of nappy hair.

Let me back up again really quick. Dean's hair is disgusting. He's a hair dresser who looks like he has not washed his hair since bell bottoms first hit the scene. It's really, really gross. It hasn't been cut in months and it's the color of straw. That's why I get so mad when he gives hair advice cause he looks like such a piece of shit.

Anyway, for one reason or another he started talking about Darryl's hair and how it was nappy and he was all of a sudden an expert again, even though he's never cut African American hair. I wanted to pour his drink on him. He kept saying "nappy" and it enraged me something fierce.

I said, "Dean, what the hell are you talking about? You don't know shit about 'nappy hair'. In fact, you don't know shit about most things, but you insist on running your mouth. No one gives a damn, Dean."

He brushed me off, "you're young and stupid. You don't know shit from shit."

"Aw, thanks, Dean. I hate you."

"Can I bum a clove?"

"You've got to be kidding."

"C'mon. Just one."

"You're out of your mind. Fuck off."

He started laughing. Then Loud Paul came outside. I also like to call him Seattle, mostly because the only thing he could really think to say was, "FUCK SEATTLE, man."

He sounded like a California stoner, but looked like a jack Russell terrier in human form. He was short and stocky and looked like he liked to bang his head on things, which probably explains his limited vocabulary.

Dean invited him to sit down, of course. And then Loud Paul started "talking". I put "talking" in quotes because it was more like yelling. Everything he said was in big bold capital letters followed by an excessive amount of exclamation points.

FUCK SEATTLE!!!!

Jen was drunk for the first time ever I think. It's not that she's never been drunk in her whole life, that night just happened to be the first time I'd seen her that way. And it was more amazing than I could have ever dreamed.

You see, that was the night that she discovered Cosmopolitans. After taking her first sip she said, "it tastes like Kool-Aid." And that's pretty much where it all started.

It didn't take much for her to get tipsy. She kept flipping straws out of her glass, trying to find them with her mouth. The ground was littered with them by night's end. Her Kool-Aid also inspired her to come up with some great one liners.

It's kind of hard to describe Jen without sounding too simple. She's absolutely lovely. She's a very petite Canadian with brown hair that's always pulled back perfectly, her bangs sort of sweeping across half of her forehead. She's very smart and that night in particular, she was very annoyed by what she feels is a misconception about her. People say she's reserved. I'd have to disagree. She can seem quiet if you don't know her, but not in an uncomfortable, "what's going on? i'm out of my element? omg someone just made eye contact!" kind of way. She's just smart, one of the few people I know who don't speak unless they really have something to say.

Here's a picture of Jen (middle, dark hair), Dave is standing to her right w/the glasses. Oh, and that's Rich. Also fabulous, of Chuck & Rich. Behind them: Becky and English.

Anyway, Sunday evening, the filter was removed and she offered these gems:

When my dad's neighbor asked him if he like Cosmo's and poured half of his drink into my dad's glass, Jen said, "do you like to wear Cosmo's?"

Earlier in the night, Jen was hungry. She did the girl thing, where she mentioned that she was hungry a couple times, prompting her husband Dave to walk down and get her a sandwich. Dave was either unaware or ignoring her. Either way, she started getting grouchy. My dad threw his arms up and went down the street to get a sandwich for her. Since she's a vegan we yelled after him, "EXTRA CHEESE!!"

Darryl got up and followed because he wanted a hot chocolate and Dave got up and followed after to make sure cheese wouldn't be put on the veggie wrap.

Oh, here's a picture of (L-R) Darryl and Tony! [<3] and Dave!

Later on that night we brought it up again and my dad said, "i don't know why you wouldn't just go get her a damn sandwich."

Jen piped in mid-sip, "yeah. why didn't you just go get me a sandwich, asshole?"

FYI: she was totally kidding. But she delivered the line dead pan, so it was brilliant. She was quick to follow it with, "oh my god, I'm kidding, honey. i love you. thank you for the sandwich. it was delicious."

Jeremy was in an out of the bar singing Karaoke. He put on quite a show for us. He did his usual Cher that Jen sang along to with vigor, her fist in the air like a soap opera character.

At one point, Jeremy grabbed a hold of the door frame and pumped his knee up and down to the tempo of the chorus. I would kill to know the name of that song right now. The point is, it was hysterical. Oh, and btw, Jeremy does the best Cher. I mean, he's no Sean Hayes. But who really is?

So, let me get back on track. You have to picture all of this happening at once: my dads and I with our belly laughs and Jeremy singing and jumping around and Dave laughing in a pitch so high only dogs could hear him and Jen's spitting straws and her fist's in the air and Dean is sloshy and bitchy and then Loud Paul walked out and ruined everything.

I mean, we still had fun I guess. But the fun changed. It became us, versus him and his obnoxious decibel level. My dad started it and everyone followed suit. We all started talking as loud as we possibly could and then Loud Paul would pause and realize that someone was actually louder than him. He would lean back and go, "...right on."

And then he started talking about his penis...

Now, I know what you're thinking, but that's not the angle he was going for. Instead of the chest pounding alpha male declaration of enormity, he started telling us about how small his penis is. Never in my life have I witnessed such a thing.

"MY PENIS IS SO SMALL!! I MEAN, IT IS LIKE, REALLY SMALL!!! MY PENIS IS REALLY SMALL! IT'S FUCKING TINY!! NOBODY WANTS A SMALL PENIS, BUT I HAVE ONE!! YOU CAN'T DO SHIT WITH A SMALL PENIS!!"

Loud Paul was sitting right next to me, so I got the brunt of his yelling. I turned to him roughly every two minutes and said, "dude my ears are seriously this close to bleeding."

He would apologize, but it would be a matter of seconds before he was at it again. Eventually Darryl got so pissed that his mama bear came out.

"Oh no, honey. Miss Elida is not gonna sit here and listen to you yell about your small penis. She's a lady."

So, they kicked him out. And we laughed all the way home cause Jen was still drunk.

There's something really fun about seeing someone who many people would consider reserved, really let her hair down for a night. It was fantastic, and since they are still on vacation until Tuesday, I'm sure there will be more to come.

One last thing...

My cousin jen sent me this. It's a picture of her son and we totally have matching hair. :)

hallelujah, holy shit

2008-08-19T12:50:00.024-04:00

...it has been a while. Too long. Instead of writing about my big bag of crazy (that's full of tons of things best saved for a drunken ramble) I am going to write about random crap.

I love starting blogs when I have less than an hour left of work. For some reason, that's when my brain wakes up after spending the great majority of the day in cruise control. Anyway...

I figured I would compile a list of people/places/things I'm interested in right now. Basically, it will be a list of nouns w/verbs and modifiers thrown in to spice things up. Oh, and probably some articles too. OH! And this is going to be a two-parter. The first part is random crap and the second half is a list of suggestions for the AfterEllen Hot 100.

(omg i'm lame) Moving on...

The Olympics

I feel like I probably get more and more excited every single time I watch them. Sunday, JP came over and we watched gymnastics and it was awesome. Right at the point when we were getting ready to make our peace w/not seeing the rest of the event because our eyes were getting heavy, the NBC desk guy gave us some helpful tips. Basically, he was addressing the shitty time difference. And when I say shitty, I mean shitty for us, even worse for L.A.. Those of us who want to watch the games end up staying up way too late cause it's lunch time in Beijing. In no way do I express the same sentiment as some random dude they interviewed on the street who said, "Man, the time difference really sucks. China should've done something about that."

It's moments like these when I stop wondering why half of the world hates us.

Anyway, I think the news guy's name is Bob something-or-other and he read his list of things you can/should do to endure the huge time difference/sleep deprivation/etc. that included the following:

"Listen to whatever Michael Phelps does on his iPod."
"You really only need four hours of sleep, really."

...and

"Don't go to work, the Olympics are more important. Your boss will understand."

Awesome.

I read this yesterday:

It's a quote from a mother of a transgendered boy commenting on a show that ABC aired about a month ago called "Understanding Transgendered Children". The show was amazing. I totally teared up more than once. It was so good they aired it twice. Here's part one of five. I think it's worth checking out.

Anyway, here's a comment response from a woman who watched the program. I found it on one of the forums and I thought it was beautiful:

I have a daughter (born a girl) who identifies as a boy, and though "he" has chosen to have his breasts reconfigured as a male, he insists he feels no need to go through the entire gender reassignment because he believes that there is "everything inbetween" - that we are not necessarily ordained to be either a boy OR a girl! If you can be born as a boy or a girl, "in the wrong body", then's what's to say the same mix up isn't responsible for giving you just some of the genes of each. He feels completely comfortable being "twixt and between", totally adrogynous. When he was a child, he was a tomboy, for sure, always competing hard with his twin brother, and told us he was seriously interested in girls during the highschool years. In undergraduate school, I just about got used to his being a lesbian, when the trans-gender thing was sprung upon me! Sure, it caused some recoil, but I love that child so completely that NOTHING would stand between me and trying to understand. I'm not sure I'm all the way there, but consider myself completely educated in the matter, at this point, and MORE to the point - totally accepting of him just as he is. Happiness IS everything, and watching this amazing PERSON evolve, despite it all, into a productive and high achiever, has made me the happiest parent on earth!

you guys! the first 48 was so good the other night!

Tangent: This morning, my therapist asked me if I had any addictions and I swear to god the first two things that popped into my head were: cereal and the first 48. I almost shouted them out all excited. I am very special.

It was sort of true though. I effing love cereal. Ask anyone who's shared a living space with me (mom, dad, pat, sisters, eric, jessy...) I love cereal. Here's a list of my favorites:

Corn Flakes
Rice Krispies
Special K (haha, cause i'm special)
Cheerios
Crispix

God, I love cereal. And you know what's even weirder than my obsession? I don't even like milk. I buy the most watered down kind i can find and only use it for bowls of cereal, never for just a glass or whatever. Also weird: i eat my cereal backwards.

STEP ONE: pour milk into bowl

STEP TWO: pour some cereal in, just enough so you can't really see the milk, letting all the flakes sort of float at the surface.

STEP THREE: eat cereal w/as little milk as possible til gone. DO NOT DRINK THE MILK THAT IS LEFT OVER.

STEP FOUR: Repeat steps two and three until there's less than a spoonful of milk at the bottom.

STEP FIVE: rinse out and leave in sink

Everyone says I eat my cereal backwards, but I say eff you kind sir. I eat it the awesome soggy-free way. Holla!

Back to my show...

My favorite detective is Caroline Mason from the Memphis PD. She's such a bad ass. She gets cold blooded killers to cry. It's awesome. She'll look them right in the eyes and say stuff like, "I'm not playin witchoo. What would yo mamma think of ya'll bein up in here? You know what she'd say? She'd say, tell the truth son. Cause the truth will set you free. And Jesus is watchin too. [long dramatic pause] I know you'll do the right thing."

And then they totally break down and cry and beg Jesus and their Mama to forgive them and she'll hold their hand while they confess to killing some old dude for crack. Then she'll stand and say that she's proud of them for confessing. Once the door closes behind her, she brushes her shoulders off (figuratively, of course) and smiles, "We got another one."

OMG she's amazing. OH! And I found this little video tribute to her. I promise I didn't make it myself.

confession time

Ok guys, I have to let you in on a little secret that I'm fairly certain I have not been entirely vocal about yet. I have a minor obsession with The Gilmore Girls.

Let it sink in for a sec.

It all started a couple months ago when I was "forced" to watch a couple episodes as part of an agreement btwn Rori and I. I sighed heavily, "fine. but then we get to watch another crime show."

I seriously did not expect to like the show. I used to make fun of it constantly. I'd roll my eyes at the mere mention of the show. I mean, Christ, they talk so fast and they play it on ABC Family or something and probably Lifetime too. I should not enjoy this show.

But I do. I really, really do. They make references to all sorts of crap I like, a lot of which are obscure old movie references. In one episode Loreli cannot wrap her head around the thought of someone still living on w/out having seen Casablanca. I mean, she's totally right. It's a classic and I love it. Did it bother me that she kept mispronouncing it? Yes, a lot.

The show has gotten a little crazy. So far, I've made it half way through season five. I wasn't kidding guys, I love this show. Rory is a total tramp and I want to kill Taylor by making him choke on his stupid hat. Loreli is hot. Always. In every single episode I think to myself: damn. she is very attractive.

Sidenote: I call Rori, "Rori" b/c she used to talk super fast. Little did I know I'd been spelling it wrong all this time. But we left it b/c we'd gotten used to it.

Elida's HOT 100 suggestions for AfterEllen.com

So, AfterEllen.com spawned from AfterElton.com. Basically it's a site where you can get all the lesbian news you could ever want. It's awesome and usually funny and I love it. Every year they do a HOT 100 list because the men's magazines suck at picking hot women. Sorry, let me elaborate...straight men tend to pick differently than women do. They usually pick under-fed russian and asian girls they found online searching for free porn.

The AfterEllen list is slightly different. Since gay ladies contribute, age is not an issue, and it's usually more important for the women on the list to have brains, unlike the other list. Do you get what I'm trying to say? Anyway...

Here are my suggestions in no particular order:

Lauren Graham

Never had a clue who she was before the Gilmore Girls. Thank you Gilmore Girls.

Mariska Hargitay

Seriously guys, she's the shit. She's a total bad ass and SVU is my fav.

Rachel Weisz

She is a perennial favorite. After I saw her on the cover of Esquire I knew for sure I was gay. I had a pretty strong inkling, but that sort of put me over the edge. And for that Rachel, I say thank you. This is the picture I saw on that fateful newsstand:

Sarah Shahi

The L Word is basically unwatchable w/out her. I mean, Alice is the shit and all. But stupid Shane left Carmen at the altar and then they killed off Dana. Stupid Ilene Chaiken. I miss Sarah Shahi. Like, a lot.

Kate Beckinsale

OMG I totally almost drank Diet Coke just because she was selling it. And how hot is her accent? I know, totally. It's super hot.

Salma Hayek

She is quite possibly one of the most genetically perfect women walking the planet. And that accent... Wow. She's something.

Clearly, I have a thing for middle aged women and I had no idea. Hooray! Anyway, they're hot and smart and I'm gonna jet now. Check back soon, this weekend is primed for a schmorgasbord of random crap.

I would like to close with this:

I hope you weren't eating while you read this. Enjoy your day/weekend!

hickeyhickeyhickey

2008-07-28T14:02:00.021-04:00

[update: the word of the day/this post is "ridiculous". if you turn it into a drinking game where you take a shot everytime I write it, you'll be wasted by the end. Trust me.]

This weekend was ridiculous. I know that the new weekend is upon us, but it's taken me a while to get this one done. You see, I started out by writing this extremely long, incredibly vivid recap of everything, only to discover that I couldn't bare to continue on that way. I mean, if I get bored re-reading what I've written, chances are you will too. And what's fair about that? Nothing. Exactly.

Friday: Band Practice

It didn't last very long. Chelsea's voice was busy hating us, so we didn't squeeze in as much time as we probably should've. But it was all good, cause I got a pizza from Hungry Howie's before hand and it was delicious. I freaking love their pizza and Noel lives really close to one. Thank you, Noel.

The Pub Crawl

Never take directions from English. She'll just lead you in circles that will repeatedly spit you back onto Woodward. You'll get mad and want to punch her and then you will punch her and then the next day she'll say, "I was washing my arms this morning and I thought, 'did i get sunburned?'. Nope it's just a bunch of bruises from Hickey." Btw, she calls me Hickey.

see the girl taking a bite out of the other girl's ass? that's english.

The first bar we went to was this uber pretentious place called Bosco that I thought was really lame. I mean, it was pretty or whatevs, but it was too modern and loud and expensive and dark.

While there I spoke with a man who was talking non-stop about how bad he wanted a cigarette. Apparently, time does not help at all. That dude hadn't had a cigarette in eight months. So, either, he was lying about how long it had been or quitting smoking is really, really hard.

It wasn't long before we ended up at Soho. That was our second of two stops for the night. Well, let me elaborate. English and I got there late, so everyone else had already seen $10 worth of drunken fools. I'd say, we saw maybe $1 worth, but paid full price. Whatevs. I love Soho. I'm totally not complaining and here's why:

There was a fight.

While at Soho I witnessed the sissiest fight ever.

OMG, but before you do that, please go here. I went looking for a picture of a dyke fight and I stumbled upon this gem. Please click the damn link. You will die. It's some band in the UK whose music is: Christian Rap/Death Metal/Bluegrass. I swear to you I'm not making it up. Their headline reads: "Music Banging In Your Ass Soon."

That just made my day.

You're welcome.

Let me sort of preface the fight I saw with the fights I've seen very recently. I go to Como's on a regular basis for their Ladies Nights. Now, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that putting a whole bunch of drunken lesbians in one big room will lead to drama. And not just any kind of drama: dyke drama.

Dyke drama is awesome to watch, but absolutely horrible to be involved in. I've been on both ends and it gets out of hand really quickly. All it takes is one wrong word, or even a look and drinks are flying, fists are out and very butch girls are being torn apart by enormous men.

It can get ugly.

I've witnessed tons of fights, and they were never the hair pulling/scratch fests you might typically imagine from a bunch of ladies. They have always been very intense and look painful. I'm talking fists, elbows, feet, knees, beer bottles, etc. Those girls get crazy.

Now, gay boys are totally different. I feel like most of them would rather have a dance-off or something instead of breaking out into a brawl.

The boys that fought that night at Soho were ridiculous. They were medium height, rail thin, pretty boys who started a sort of slapping/shoving match. Somehow one of their drinks fell to the ground. Just after the shattering of glass, the boys went sort of skipping off into the alley. They were chasing after one another, but they were so light on their feet that it looked like skipping.

I almost laughed myself retarded.

I got hungry.

English and I left the bar around close and walked back to her house. She was all sorts of wound up. When she drinks it's kind of like giving speed to someone who is already heavily sedated. She kind of runs around slowly, but all smiles and will not stop swinging her fists at me.

During the walk back, she made it a point to jump and smack every single hanging plant and street sign.

We ended up in the car in search of food that led us, somehow to Detroit. I really couldn't tell you how that happened. One minute we were in line at Leo's in Royal Oak and then next we were pulling through my old favorite drive-thru coney place in the heart of a really shitty neighborhood.

Now, I've spent a decent amount of time in Detroit and I'll fight you to the death over the city. It's not scary. I mean, it should be, if you're an idiot. But, if you're smart and careful and aware you'll be fine. Bums and lowlifes are akin to dogs and bees. They can smell your stinky fear from a mile away.

Anyway, we drove back to her house and watched some random non-porn lesbian movie with British people in it wearing period clothing. I don't really remember all of it. I was too busy laughing at English while she tried not to fall asleep with a plate of french toast balancing in her hand.

It was awesome.

Saturday: the show in Toledo

Before we left for the show @ Rick's, I made a stop at my cousin's house. Her stupid brother downloaded a million viruses onto her computer. And Dennis, if you're reading this...I mean, I doubt you are because you hate reading and never go on the computer for anything that is not porn...just know that we know what you did. The computer was jacked and Jenny wants to beat you with reeds.

We drove to the show in two separate cars. Chelsea (old lady driver) and Tan Bone in the Jimmy and English, Noel and I in Louise (my car). We sweat our asses off in my stupid non-air conditioned car. But it was all good cause English pimped out my back seat. She took all the glow sticks left over from Audrey's birthday and stuck them to the ceiling. Oh, and she also took a tampon and put that with the glow sticks. And it was open. An open tampon. Unused, but open.

Anna's

We stopped and got food at this little diner down the street from Rick's. It was quaint. I think I terrified our waitress at first. You see, I was wearing a gift that Audrey had purchased for me about a week before: a boob whistle.

I tried to do a Google image search for a picture to show you, but that was ridiculous. Don't ever search for an image of a boob whistle when you're at work. Just don't.

Anyway, the whistle is awesome.

During our meal Tan Bone was already getting wound up. I love it when she gets hyper. She started bugging me about not eating meat. And, you know, i find it strange, because I NEVER bug people about eating meat, but i find myself being badgered by people who can't understand why I don't. I mean, who the hell cares? You do, I don't. It's kind of like sex with boys. Just leave it alone.

Anyway, she had some very profound things to say, such as:

"What if you landed on a deserted island and all there was to eat was grasshoppers. What would you do then, huh?"

and

"Ok, you eat eggs because they're unfertilized, but would you eat an unfertilized baby turkey?"

Yeah. I probably don't have to bother with explaining why both of those questions are stupid. They're funny as hell, but they're ridiculous. I think I might love her even more for them.

The show, sort of

The show went really well. Somehow we had more people there for us than any of the other bands, which doesn't make any sense. I mean, they actually live nearby and they couldn't round up a few troops? We drove over and hour and so did everyone else that came top see us. I mean, Christ.

Anyway, we made some new friends and almost died during the last act. The lead singer was probably in her late twenties, early thirties and she danced around during their whole set. And when I say dance, picture some cross between Elaine Benes, Marsha Brady and a belly dancer. It was that amazing.

We don't want to sleep tonight...

After the show we went out to the parking lot and stood around being stupid. All of us were stone cold sober, but we were wicked slap happy. Tan Bone had switched it into high gear and danced around the parking lot like Tina Turner having a panic attack. I couldn't stop laughing.

Stop breaking the law, asshole.

I saw this little animated graphic thing on a website with text that fades in and out and it read:

Before there were lawyer ads on TV...
Before there were lawyer shows on TV...
Before there was TV...
There was Sam Bernstein.

The only things we had before TV were dinosaurs.

I want to have babies with Missy Higgins.

2008-07-22T12:15:00.028-04:00

A brief note: I wrote most of this the day before yesterday and totally forgot to post it. So, I opened it back up today, added a couple things and ta-da. It's done. Not great, but done. I debated scrapping the damn thing and starting over with something else, but decided to post this one, only because I have tossed so many nearly finished entries in the past month. I plan on writing another one on Sunday. Anyway...

I keep seeing these trailers for the new X Files movie and laughing. 20th Century Fox is billing it as "the movie of the summer". Obviously, they have not heard of a little project called The Dark Knight, which I totally saw last night. If you haven't yet, you need to get on that shit.

I won't even tell you about the movie. Read a review if you wanna know specifics, go see it, or ruin all the fun and read the spoilers. What I will tell you about is the awesome little thing that happened just as the movie was starting. The lights dimmed to black and everyone turned to one another saying, "shh... oh my god be quiet. seriously, shut up. it's starting."

Love it.

I think we've all had at least a half dozen or so times when we've wanted to take a bat to the head of some asshole that won't shut up during the movie. And let me clarify something: when I say "talking" during as movie, I mean on a cell phone or to the person next to them regarding a completely unrelated subject. AND when they are loud enough for everyone to hear said person over the damn surround sound. THAT, my friends is a serious offense.

I know it should make me feel like a crotchety old man when I say things like that, but it doesn't because I've felt pretty strongly about it for roughly ten years now.

I once went to see this god-awful Schwarzenegger movie with my mother and there was a group of kids sitting at the end of the row that would not shut up. They were talking and laughing and carrying on and I begged my mother to let me say something to them, but she told me to let it go. I fumed in my chair. I might've disregarded her instruction had we been watching a movie I was excited for.

As it was, we closed our eyes, spun around three times and pointed to the title we were watching. So, I let it go mostly. I didn't say a single word. Although, I found it hard to focus on the movie. I was too busy plotting a beating they'd never forget.

Jay and I went to the movies like it was our job. I think we probably went at least once a week, if not more, especially in the summer. Our frequency had only increased the odds of me having a meltdown over people that wouldn't shut the hell up.

There were several occasions when he gave me this look, it was sort of a, "for the love of god, let it go. those guys are enormous and i don't feel like getting my ass kicked" kind of look. Despite his silent pleas, there were many times I turned around to the people behind me and asked, "please stop kicking my fucking chair, asshole" or "will you please keep it down? i didn't pay eight bucks to listen to you whine about the fact that your boyfriend has crabs. thanks."

One time I fell asleep during a movie, which I believe to be a cardinal sin. The only reason I'm sharing it is because it's funny and I don't like to live by double standards.

Anyway, I went to the Main Art in Royal Oak to see a string of episodes of a TV series produced locally. It was basically a test screening/opportunity for everyone involved in the project to watch it together. The plot was a thinly veiled carbon copy of this book written in the 70's that I cannot recall right now. They hoped to get picked up by the sci-fi channel, but I doubt they've had any luck.

I swear to you, I have seen nearly every single episode of the first, and probably only season, and I never had any fucking clue what was going on. It was the most confusing plot I've ever been subjected to. When Jarvis would explain it to me afterwards, my first question to him was always, "why didn't they show all that stuff you're talking about?" They basically left out the plot and replaced it with bloated scenes of people wandering around abandoned buildings in Detroit.

Score.

During a particularly boring episode they introduced some lovely Blair Witch camera moves that would've rendered Lucille 2 completely helpless. Naturally, I fell asleep. I didn't mean to at all, I just sort of sank down a little lower in my chair and before I knew it, the credits were rolling and everyone was clapping. So I sat up casually and joined right in on the clapping. No one had any idea I was asleep.

It probably had to do with the fact that the other friends I'd come with were playing Tetris on their cellphones and texting each other. Jarvis didn't know either, until I told him drunkenly maybe a year or so after. He was in the episode, and I completely missed it. But I'd seen him in a few others, so I didn't feel completely awful about it. I was more proud of my ability to join in with the clapping. Normally, when I'm startled awake I freak out enough to give myself away. But not that time. I just sort of sat up casually... clapclapclap, well done. i really liked this one.

Last night
i went to see The Dark Knight again AND in the IMAX theatre in Dearborn. I think I liked it even better the second time around. There's crap in there that I missed the first time around. And there was an added bonus of sitting next to an elderly couple that would not shut up through most of the film.

OLD MAN: What did he say?
OLD WOMAN: What?
OLD MAN: I said, 'what did he say?'
OLD WOMAN: Oh...um...he said something about that Rachel girl.
OLD MAN: Oh.
[long pause]
OLD MAN: Wait, what just happened? [clears throat aggressively, almost painfully in a way that manages to somehow sound both dry and wet and then accomplish nothing but a disruption]
OLD MAN again: Is that the police chief?
OLD WOMAN: No, I think he's a lieutenant.
OLD MAN: Are you sure?
OLD WOMAN: Yes.
(on screen the Joker says "helllloooo beautiful."
OLD WOMAN: I don't think she's that pretty.
OLD MAN: [clears throat again in the same manner] Me neither.
[brief pause]
OLD MAN: Wait...what did he say?
OLD WOMAN: I don't know. You were coughing.
OLD MAN: Oh. Right. Well...[begins to clear throat again]

Oh. My. God.

Have you ever heard of Missy Higgins? If not, check her out immediately. I saw her live last week and she was incredible. I swear to you that I have always been one of those girls who swears that she will never conceive children. I've been saying it for-e-ver. That all changed last week Wednesday.

I want to have babies with Missy Higgins.

Trust me, she's amazing.

Chelsea told me I have to get in line behind her. But whatevs.

She was so amazing live. She waltzed on stage very casually, fresh from the shower no less. She told us so. Her hair was pretty much dry by the end. I just really love her a lot.

And seeing a band/artist you really like is kind of a make or break thing, for me anyway. Here is the short list of bands/artists (I've seen in the last few years) who cemented themselves as genuinely good musicians/stage presences (in no particular order):

Missy Higgins
One Republic
Motion City Soundtrack
As Tall As Lions
Copeland
Thursday
Freer

They put on a damn good show. I was impressed and not counting ATAL, I wouldn't have ventured past the surface of any of their music catalogs if it weren't for their stellar live performance.

Here's the short list of people who I can't stand/get bored watching live, therefore, rarely listen to. Again, I've seen them recently and they are in no particular order:

Fall Out Boy
The Fray
Mae
Cute Is What We Aim For
Tegan and Sara

and most local bands I see.

It's good to note that the bad list is shorter than the good list. So, I mean, there's hope.

The point is, Missy Higgins was the shit.

Speaking of live bands...

The ladies and I are playing in Toledo tomorrow and I'm so flipping excited. You have no idea. I mean, I'm totally nervous too. But I'd say I'm much more excited. And I will totally understand if you don't make it. It's short notice and what-not.

BUT, if you can, you should totally come out to the Pub Crawl in Ferndale tonight. It's gonna be a blast. I'm sure I'll have some sweet ass pictures from it.

Pasta Under The Influence

2008-06-10T13:58:00.016-04:00

My new favorite thing is making pasta. And when I say making pasta, I mean making a pile of flour and then making a well inside of it, filling the hole with egg and oil and then going to town.

Two days ago I went to buy David Sedaris' latest book at the Borders near my house. I normally like to go to Barnes & Noble because they are a more homo friendly co., but i was already en route and what with the gas prices...

Books stores and I make an interesting mix. I love to read, especially really random books, or how-to's. I do a lot of reading online because it's free. But I really, really love sitting down with a book of own choice and disappearing.

I especially love David Sedaris. And say what you will about him, the man cracks me up without fail. If I crack open one of his books (which I have read and re-read, ps), I am guaranteed to have a good time.

Oh, and by the way, I didn't even know he had a new book out until I read it in a article that was linked to in another blog. I left work a little early, raced to the book store and then stopped dead at the entrance.

The entire entrance was blocked with rows and rows of bargain books. Those bastards, i thought. There were so many books for less than ten dollars that included a how-to section on all sorts of random things like sculpture, underwater basket weaving, brain surgery, plumbing, masonry, paper airplanes... I could have learned how to do all sorts of things. The how-to's were accompanied by a sea of crisp new journals just begging to be cracked open and tear stained.

I panicked. So many books that I could browse endlessly. They even had 1700 different books specifically written to be read whilst taking a dump in the bathroom, my favorite kind of book really. I've been known to wander out of the bathroom still reading, pants no longer around my ankles though.

And then, amidst the sea of bargains I saw one that I could not pass up: “Pasta: a culinary how-to for this classic Italian staple”. Sold.

It was $5 and the David Sedaris book was only $18 and thank god that was the first book on display. I would've been screwed. I'm already inching towards the poor house with this impending lay-off. The last thing I need is to scramble for rent money, digging around through piles and piles of books instructing me to pick up hobbies I cannot afford.

From the bookstore, I drove straight to the grocery store and sat in the parking lot flipping through the book. So many choices! And for me, only half as many because I don’t eat meat. But still! There were hundreds of things I could've made.

After sitting in the parking lot for probably 30 minutes sweating my ass off, I put together a list of ingredients and headed into the grocery store. A storm was moving in, so there were dozens of people scrambling to leave and it seemed I was the only moron heading IN to the store.

I grabbed the few things I didn’t already have at home, including a rolling pin, eggs and oil, thanked the robot lady inside the u-scan and was on my way.

Making pasta from scratch is no easy task. Anyone who's done it, understands that it involves a certain amount of logic that I am trying to learn by a trial and error approach.

Lesson #1: Do not make pasta dough while drunk.

It seems pretty obvious, but then again, who thought they'd be drunk after 1 and 1/2 beers? Not me. By the time I had put a decent size dent into the new David Sedaris I was at least mildly drunk.

I stumbled into the house, surprised at how wobbly my legs were.

"Was I sitting down for that long?" I asked myself. Aloud, ps.

I set my book down and started to kick off my shoes, which of course, I was wildly unsuccessful at. I moved my feet and the flip-flops moved with them, instead of off of them. I kicked and kicked and nothing. I was basically dancing like a Russian in my living room.

I grew angry, bent over and yanked the stupid sandals off. "There!" I shouted and slammed the shoes to the ground. I haven't the vaguest idea what I thought "hurting" my shoes would've accomplished, but it seemed logical at the time.

"Wow. I am really drunk," I said. Again, I was speaking aloud and intentionally to myself. I laughed. "I am so retarded."

Yep.

I stumbled into the kitchen and arranged all of the ingredients and tools in height order. Don't ask me why.

I measured the flour and dumped it into a big pile on the counter (that was clean, ps). I made a hole in the middle, eyeballed the picture in the book, decided it was plenty big enough and then started dropping the eggs in.

I've gotten pretty good at cracking eggs one handed, but had to fish out a few egg shells because I was a touch sloppier than normal. As I cracked the third egg, I thought to myself, that hole doesn't really look big enough for one more egg. It will probably spill over and make a mess. But then I decided I'd have time to catch the egg, so I dropped it into the well.

Of course, the egg went everywhere. It broke through one part of the well and went spilling onto the counter, spreading like the Terminator in liquid form. I scrambled. Crap! I forgot to add the oil!

I reached for the oil, measured it and then poured it into the well and that too joined the egg miss taking over my counter at an alarming rate. What did I reach for next? The whisk.

In the directions it states: once you've added the eggs and oil, use a whisk to work the liquid, gently adding flour as you go.

I started whisking from the inside out, worsening the volcanic eruption of egg and oil exponentially. I reached around the back of the broken mound with my free hand and tried to guide the egg back into the well.

I was whisking frantically, trying to absorb what I could of the egg. I was sweeping my hand around like a greedy child hording candy on Halloween, trying to manage the river of salmonella.

Once I had gotten rid of most of the moisture, I looked back at the book, but had to get really close, because, let me remind you, I was drunk off of less than two beers.

The next step: knead the dough on a surface lightly dusted with flour until the mound is soft and pliable, but dry to the touch.

hmm...I thought. How in the hell is that possible with this mess of sticky, tacky dough?

I started kneading anyway, without first putting flour on my hands, but that surface was "dusted" pretty well. I really couldn't tell you how much flour was on the surface because my counter top is white. So, it was probably “caked” more so, than “dusted”.

Clearly, the project was destined to fail from the beginning.

I kneaded until I had more dough on my hands than on the counter and then just sort of stared at my hands, like, how the hell am I gonna fix this?

I know! A spoon...

I grabbed the spoon next to me and started scraping the dough off of my hands. It took probably 15 minutes to clean my hands off enough to coat them in flour and start over with the kneading. It took a combination of the spoon, a little flour and rubbing my hands together quickly, feverishly, even.

Once I was done kneading the dough, I put it in a bag, like I was instructed to do and sat down on the couch exhausted and hungry. I looked at the clock: 8:45pm.

Holy hell, I was running way behind schedule. Rori was due home in 15 minutes and dinner wasn't even kind of ready.

She arrived home late, but not late enough because I was still pinching the dough into little bows, lining a covered cutting board with rows and rows of little hand made noodles.

She walked in, "Dinner isn't ready yet?"

"Um..." I stumbled. "Almost."

"How much longer?"

"I dunno." I guessed, "Maybe 20 minutes."

Yeah, I was way off. By the time, I'd been to bed the pasta hadn't finished drying yet. But we settled for a couple of chick'n patty sandwiches. I ate mine cold, because it was ready before I was done laying out the pasta.

The moral of the story?

Making pasta is really fun and therapeutic as long as you are sober or are much better at being a functioning alcoholic.

I'm totally trying again on Saturday. Wish me luck!

i'm so hungry right now, i could eat your leg off. and i'm a vegetarian.

2008-06-06T15:44:00.008-04:00

This year has been rough. I know I've mentioned it maybe one hundred times, but it has been. Furthermore, I am more than aware that it could be worse for me, for anyone, now, in the past, something that hasn't even happened yet. I know it all too well. Yet, I still feel so incredibly frustrated by the course the year has taken.

January was interesting. I cut out an longtime friend, was in the throws of a new relationship, gave up on another friend, started a band and was the subject of an intervention of sorts.

In February, I hadn't even drifted to sleep after a night of confessions when I saw the flames billowing. Days later I dug my shit out of the wreckage, said goodbye and left a message. Less than a week later, I was laid off by the worst employer I have ever encountered. Never, ever work for a law firm, unless you are a masochist or like working with lawyers, or enjoy working with assholes that treat you like shit. Just a suggestion.

Anyway, that job was gone and I was crashing literally and figuratively in a hollowed out cave of an apt. down the street from the one I used to call home. It was cold and the ceilings were high, the floors bare. Every move was echoed.

I hated that place. The way the rabbits would claw at the bottoms of their cages, hoping against all odds, that this time, they'd free themselves. And for what? I'm not sure. Ever if those damn things somehow found freedom, they'd probably freeze in terror. You see, rabbits are not very thoughtful creatures.

Everything was put on hold in February. I waited and waited for a job and the cold winds wouldn't let up, so we clung to each other, her and I. And we watched movies and made the same food for dinner every night.

One night, I was hit in the face with a fig newton.

In March, I landed a job. It seriously dropped straight out of the sky. I didn't apply, didn't interview. After maybe four emails total, I received a phone call: "you start Monday."

I started Monday.

The job began slowly. There was a lot of waiting around, a lot of checking and re-checking Facebook and making conversation with a mother-daughter team I could barely stand. I don't do well with adults who speak in baby voices. Never have. I think it is bar none, one of the most unacceptable forms of speaking, regardless of age.

The days and weeks between then and now are considerably blurry. A lot of shit has gone down. A lot with her. Lost a friend, gained some new ones, got the band going again, got the cops called on us.

And those cops, let me tell you... They loved us. From the moment they crossed the threshold, they were apologies and "you guys sound really good. who's singing? you? wow, your voice in incredible. Who was on the drums? you were awesome...you shook the porch though and your neighbors are pissed. I'm not kidding the house was vibrating."

There were a lot of bar nights, but responsible ones this year, which means that Chelsea ate a lot of chicken fingers. I started drinking beer, which I have long since lobbied against. I can thank Chelsea for that. Those damn Corona's.

There was a period of maybe two weeks when I felt so completely on edge that I feared I would never learn to plan for the future again. I thought I was going to lose her forever. And come to think of it, I still feel that way, especially now. I don't know when I'll be able to function in any other way than trying to power through each day, one at a time, head down. With the job market and the gas prices and this stupid job and some other shit with her that I am not at liberty to mention.

There's a lot. The summer would be looking up a bit more, except now I can't think of much else besides food. My belly has given up on me after only two days of what some would argue as a dangerous lack of sustenance. But I'm too terrified to eat much of anything. I will probably lose this job, the second one this year, a week from today. I learned from the last time, so I do have some money in savings.

But last time, I was writing songs on the couch at night for a month, hoping to hear back from the dozens of applications I had sent out. And you know, it just sucks so much more this time around. This is easily, the best job I have ever had. I make my own hours, work alone most of the time, unless I feel like socializing. I meet new people everyday, make my own appointments. I've discovered nearly all there is to Ann Arbor at this point, and I like it. I was just starting to feel comfortable.

But then last week Friday there was a conversation that closed with a hand shake and a "thanks for all your hard work. we hope to work with you again in the future." And that conversation was right after one telling me I'd have work here indefinitely. And then there was a phone call, "We'd like you to come back on the 9th." And then another phone call, "Actually, can you start back Tuesday? We really need your help."

And then there was a secret email sent around with instructions not to share it with me. But I have made friends with the right people, and so I was handed the confidential email, this one stating, "elida's last day is next week Friday...please do not mention anything to her...run all assignments through me...I'll be handling the planning of her last week."

And like that, I'm on the streets again. In less than a week, there will be no job in Ann Arbor and school is gently screaming in my ear that I'm not done yet, not even close. And there's a video I've been working on that needs to be completed for my sister. There is no alternative. I made a promise. And there are shows to be played. And rent to be paid. And money that is owed, that cannot go without being repaid for another day. It simply can't. And then, there's my belly again, aching for something...

I just want things to turn around, more than I've ever wanted them to. Well, actually, that's not true. I wanted it the most when my mom was sick. But she's better now.

So, technically this is the second most desperate I've felt for a change in pace, luck, karma, anything. And it might. But I'm not gonna bet on it anytime soon. The preceding events have proven that even when it gets better, it only stays that way for a hot second. Eh. Whatevs. I'm done rambling now. Apologizes all around for my sunny disposition and/or desire to return phone calls. I need to figure this shit out.

I want to tell you a story.

2008-04-18T09:55:00.051-04:00

I know I've written a lot of random crap here, and mainly I try to avoid mentioning names unless it's in a positive light. If I wrote as much as I wanted to on here, every single person I know would be furious. Cause, you know, this year has not been exactly been what I was hoping for.

And lately, especially, these past couple of weeks, I have tried to muster the will to write something positive for everyone because I'm not the only one going through hard times. Pretty much everyone is dealing with something always. So, you know, in the grand scheme of things, writing positive shit is the better alternative to broadcasting some really delicate situations that have been very trying lately.

I wrote a post once, very recently and then deleted it after it had been up for maybe 24 hours, because I was so vague and included a photograph that I maybe shouldn't have. It turned into a big misunderstanding.

But it made me even more hesitant about posting anything even mildly personal.

Until now.

Like I said before, I want to tell you a story.

I'm going to ask you all to close your eyes while I tell you the story. I want you to listen to me. I want you to listen to yourselves.

I want to tell you all something that I haven't really been open about until now. My family and I have kept on the down low in an effort to move on and wash our hands of an unusual and ridiculous situation. When the news first broke, I wrote about it vaguely. I even went as far as using fake names. To this day, I'm not sure if anyone had any idea what was going on. But I want to clear the air now.

The events of this past week, the first week after Nicole's passing, have exhausted me to the point or agoraphobia. I haven't had the energy to be angry or to make myself clear. It's just been a fucking whirling dervish of crap, flying at me, all fists and elbows. Today, is the first day I feel strong enough and sober enough to address any of it.

"I am Jack's smirking revenge."

Frank is a liar and a manipulator. I should've known right away, but hindsight is always 20/20 and it really snuck up on us. After I discovered his enormous web of lies, I was just completely and utterly dumbfounded. I've never known anyone as desperate for attention as he is.

When the funeral was approaching and he was openly grieving on his own blog, I couldn't help but feel so angry at him all over again. All of his readers poured out their sympathy for him and he ate it up like a greedy bastard. They don't know the real Frank. They don't understand the sorts of things he's capable of. I thought for a while that maybe he had some sort of a mental disorder. His lies were so great in size and number, that it seemed no sane person would be capable of it.

But I'd really hate to give him such an easy out. The fact of the matter is that he's a liar and for at least two solid years of all our lives he made Nicole look like the crazy one.

Nicole was very close with all of us. She was like another sister to me and Val and Abi. And her untimely death has been nothing short of tragic. The heartbreak is unreal. I still can't wrap my head around it.

"You have very serious emotional problems. Deep seated problems for which you should seek professional help."

Frank and Nicole were the closest things to mortal enemies that I have ever known. I don't think a lot of people understand why. I've been an active part of that; I just wanted it all to be over. But now I want everyone to know how fucking crazy and selfish he is, because he's gotten all too good at making it appear otherwise.

Maybe he did cry for her and maybe he is sorry that he caused her so much frustration over the years. And all for what? For the love and attention from a girl he still obsesses over. It's sad, really.

He stews in his own bull shit so much that he'll probably believe it forever.

I am fairly certain that he attended her funeral. I was given a heads up that he might, but I didn't receive it in time. I was too busy grieving the loss of Nicole. She was freaking hysterical, ps. She was my favorite kind of person, no bullshit, let's you know where you stand kind of girl. I loved her like a sister. It was hard not to. She was over our house constantly and she and Val were attached at the hip. It was kind of like, when we were little and we'd pick teams for kickball or something and there'd always be some pair of girls who would lock arms and announce that they "came as a package". Do you know what I'm talking about?

Val and Nicole were like that. They came as a proverbial package. So, we saw her all the time. My family loved her. Abi and I loved her.

But for a two year stretch of time, we questioned her. She kept looking at us, shaking her head and saying, "Frank is a liar. He's so full of shit. He's obsessed with Val and he'll do anything to get her attention. Trust me. I've known him forever. He's an asshole."

But Abi and I would look at her like she told us monkeys were flying out of our butts. Every single time Nicole warned us about Frank and his capacity for being a selfish bastard, we brushed it off. We'd agree to disagree and move on. And, I guess, in a way, I kind of feel like Nicole right now.

But i tell you what, Nicole hated Frank. He made her life hell. When Frank and Val were dating (each of the three times, on and off again...) Nicole would get pushed to the side. Val likes to do what I do and multitask, even when seeing different friends. So, when she'd want to go to the movies, Frank had the unspoken invitation and Val would call Nicole.

VAL: Wanna go to the movies?
NICOLE: Is Frank going?
VAL: ...yeah.
NICOLE: No thanks.

And it was all because she couldn't stand him the way that Abi and I can't stand him now. Once you've been crossed by someone in a certain way, it's hard to let it go.

"I am Jack's raging bile duct."

And the thing is, I've tried to understand Frank's motives. I haven't bothered to hear him out, because as far as I'm concerned, the ends do not justify the means and he'd probably feed me some more of his bull shit anyway.

But still, I've tried to wrap my head around it all:

Why make up a person?

Why make up a band?

Why lie about your involvement in said make believe band?

Why set up myspace pages for both?

Why use the other imaginary friend to communicate with Abi and me when you were supposed to be in the hospital and/or suicidal?

Why produce this mess?

Because of all of the shit he's made up, I have no idea whether or not to believe that he has/ever had cirrhosis of the liver or that he almost lost his mother to suicide. Twice. I have no idea if anything he's ever told me was anything but a lie.

I think I have the answer to all of the other questions though, because it's the same answer to the following: Why put a rift between Val and Nicole and consequently, between Nicole, Abi and I?

Because he hated when Val's attention was on anyone/anything other than him. I hope it was worth it to him for a while, because he fucked with a lot of people's heads.

It might seem like an over simplification because things got so out of hand. But that was his fault. He started lying and making shit up, so he just had to continue lying.

He told us he was writing lyrics for his friend's band. Lie. Val got excited, so he sent her the lyrics he was "working on". Not his lyrics. Lie.

She loved the lyrics, so he sent her some songs they were recording. Total bull shit. Not his songs. Again...lie. Nicole looked at us and laughed. "You guys," she said, "Frank is so full of shit. I can't believe you're buying all this crap about the band. That can't be real. No way."

But we ate it up.

Magically the band got signed to a little label and flown to L.A. to record their debut album. Lie. He's never been to L.A.. But, holy hell did he have stories. Every time I called him it was one thing after another. They played a bunch of shows, had a nice hotel (that was probably just his dorm), went with the guys to bars and partied in hotel rooms, got into a street fight, got his ribs beaten in with a baseball bat, ended up in the hospital, thought he was gonna die, left me a breathy voicemail on his way to the "hospital". He was probably just done jogging or something. He called me and left another panicked voicemail about punching out his mirror after speaking to Val. He used to call me and threaten to kill himself and ramble on and on and fucking on about how horrible his life was.

"This isn't a real suicide-thing. This is probably one of those cry-for-help things."

And I sat there and I listened and I tried to get him through it. It was seriously, just like a movie. Things would be shitty for him (supposedly) and then BAM--he's kicked out of school and then he was suing the school, and now he's apparently going to the school again. And, god knows what else.

When he was suicidal, I used to email back and forth between "Adair", this friend he had who was probably real at some point, but was no longer real. He had become another voice for Frank to speak through. Adair was kind of like a virtual marionette that Frank would speak through, posing as a concerned friend, but really, it was not Adair. It was Frank pleading for his own life. It was the most bizarre thing I have ever been a part of. And it wasn't like it only lasted a few months. It lasted close to a year.

Somewhere along the way, Frank must've gotten sick of keeping up with all of his lies, because Adair "died". He totally killed off his BFF in his own little twilight zone and I was upset as hell. Here I was losing a friend, who I thought was a totally different person. When, in fact, it was just Frank pretending to be this other person. He was Tyler Durden. But I didn't find out until later.

The lie that finally got him caught (with Val, at least) was absolutely ridiculous. He was getting all too confident in his double life, that, ps, he probably fabricated from the basement of his mother's house.

"You had to give it to him: he had a plan. And it started to make sense, in a Tyler sort of way."

He lied about another song, but this time, Val caught him in his lie. He claimed that he co-wrote/helped inspire a song by Something Corporate called "She Paints Me Blue". She went looking for the song and found it rather odd that the publication date was years before and called him out.

Nicole smiled knowingly. Val was pissed. She cut him out. Stone cold. It was over. But Val didn't broadcast it and we'd been subject to all of his other lies for so long that we didn't bother to question the rest of it.

When Frank claimed his mother was near death in the hospital, Nicole saw his mother in Frank's yard and called us up. And, again, we thought Miller was crazy. It's a pretty huge accusation to put on someone: you're mother is not dying. You made it up. Who says that? Miller did. She hated liars. And that's why she hated Frank.

When Abi and I finally made our own discoveries, we gave him an earful and he calmly and quietly hung up the phone with no shred of remorse. That night, Abi and I marched over to Nicole's house and apologized. She laughed. "I've been telling you guys for years what a piece of shit Frank is. He's the devil."

Now, I wouldn't flatter him, even for a second and compare him to the devil. But, he is full of shit. He manipulates for attention. It's sick. Really, it is. This has been years in the making. Fucking, long, weird ass years. There were whole stretches of weeks when I'd spend hours on the phone with him, talking him down from the proverbial ledge. And for what? He was fine. I should've just hung up the phone and gotten some sleep because the bastard seems to be doing just fine now. Somehow, magically, he's fine. There are no more threats of suicide.

"I am Jack's cold sweat."

"I can't believe you. All the shit you've said, for...god--forever, Frank." I was so angry with him. For a few solid minutes he was silent on the other end of the phone. I stopped to take a breath. I shook me head.

He just, very matter of factly said, "Ok, well, I'm gonna hang up now."

Who the fuck does that? Who fucks with your head for YEARS and then just says, "I'm gonna hang up now"? Frank does. He loves himself more than he'll ever let on, because then you wouldn’t feel sorry for him anymore.

When I heard that he was upset about Nicole's death, my first thought was, "Since when do you care?" He treated her like shit for so long, that I can't remember a time when Miller didn't say to me on a somewhat regular basis, "God, I hate Frank. I wouldn't even want that freak at my funeral."

Those are important words to remember, because they were the second thought that popped into my head. There he was making his plans to come home, blogging like there's no tomorrow about how sad he feels over all the shit he put her though. And you know what? I don't fucking believe him. I am completely, one hundred percent convinced that he did this for himself. If he respected her wishes at all, he would've shut the fuck about it, or at least been honest about how much shit he put her through. Because if you knew, if you really tried to grasp it all, you would be as appalled as I am that he had the balls to drive back here in the first place.

It's just insane. He's insane.

"I am Jack's complete lack of surprise."

The latest chapter has been my whole reason for writing this. Apparently, he has misunderstood an email he received from one of my sisters. She was asking (essentially telling with harsh words), and we all were, really, for him to stay the fuck away. He didn't care about her at all. If we had spoken up sooner about all the shit he put her through, everyone would've known and he wouldn't have even thought about showing his stupid.

But we tried to put it behind us. We didn't want him to get any more attention, so we said our piece and we moved on. But then, when he was trying to act like the bigger person by showing up and paying his respects, I was furious. It's just another thing for him to write about, another thing for him to whine about so people will feel sorry for poor Frank who never catches a break. Bull shit.

She would've never wanted him there. And that was the sole purpose for that email, although he tried to make it seem as though it was about the three of us, or rather, him.

It wasn't. We cared enough about her to honor her wishes. He didn't. He never cared and he never will about anyone but himself.

and whiskers on kittens

2008-04-12T12:34:00.026-04:00

I got an email from Kailtyn that made me laugh so hard that my team leader at work was like, "what the hell is so funny over there? [to her daughter/my coworker]: Elida's checking her email again."

Go here and watch the clip I'm talking about.

let's get something out of the way...

I went to a candle light vigil for Miller last night. The picture above really doesn't do it justice. It was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen in my entire life. I felt like the entire city of Trenton was on her front lawn holding candles in silence. It was incredible. I would go on an on about it but the point of this post and my writing efforts right now is to steer my brain (and hopefully yours too) in a less painful/stressful/agonizing direction.

Because, you know, through all that's happened so far this year--and i don't know that you'd believe me if i told you all of it--i've grown up a lot and realized that a lot of cliches are true. And maybe they're been repeated ad nauseam for a reason. When it rains it pours... That's been my year thus far.

But, you know, I'm not alone. Whenever I feel like I'm in the middle of the shittiest storm of all time, I get a call from a friend who needs a shoulder or an ear, who's life is shattering simultaneously with mine. And you know what I do? I give it to them. I give them that ear, or that shoulder and ask if there's anything else I can do.

Because, no matter what, someone, somewhere ALWAYS has it worse that you. So, in the wise words of Diane, "put your big girl panties on, pull up your boot straps, and let's go. it's gonna get worse before it gets better."

So, buck up. Call me if you need me. I will be there for you. And when I say, no matter what, absolutely anything, etc... I fucking mean it. I know what it's like. Let's band together through all of our proverbial shit storms, put on our big girl panties and remind ourselves of why we get out of bed in the morning.

If, for some reason, you cannot think of a reason and you're reading this blog, um, there's your reason. There's shit you haven't read yet. So much, especially if you're here. I have so many wonderful things that I'm going to share with you. So, you know, thanks for reading. I promise you, someone does love you and will miss you one day.

If you don't believe me, call me and I'll tell you more about Miller and the vigil and her mother and the entire city of trenton reaching out to a girl who never felt accepted. Trust me. Someone cares.

now onto the reason you're still reading...
Last night I was feeling like a total bell jar, so i went to my favorite spot. See, I used to go jogging, all the time, (and yes that was a soft "j" in jogging) and there was one spot on my route that always made me feel good. I have no idea why it makes me feel that way. It's along what it technically a drainage ditch, but looks more like a stream, there are train tracks within spitting distance and it's not super easy to get to.

It's quiet, dead quiet, save for the train that passes by occasionally and the water reflects the sky vividly but abstractly enough to resemble a Monet. There is a little bridge and the water is calm as it passes by underneath me. I stare into the water and announce that if i could, I would pay $10,000 to be able to jump into the sky I see in the water. If it were possible, I would jump into that water and transport myself into the sky, flying around in some parallel universe, where they don't have fatal car crashes, buildings don't burn and no one has an illness.

I've stared at that water for hours before, wishing to fly. And, you know, the wishing is enough for me. I can totally imagine myself floating around, feeling the wind on my face, looking down on the Earth from so far away.

the weather
Living in Michigan is not exaclty synomomous with "great" weather. But, sometimes, I feel like we stick around for that odd day when she sun is out and the wind is a slight breeze and we can roll our windows down and not be hot or cold. We can share our music with the rest of the roadways, via open windows, and feel like there are other people in the world. The kids come out to play and ride their bikes and my street isn't just the sound of wind chimes.

Yesterday was like that. It was so beautiful. I got out work early and then proceeded to get sucked into the worst three errands of my life that included: three trips to two different banks and half of my life at the secretary of state. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs.

stay with me...
But then... "Seek & Destroy" came on. I turned that shit up so loud I thought I was gonna blow my speakers and my eardrums. But it felt so damn good. I'm sure everyone has a song like that. I have a few, actually. And I would like to share them with you. Maybe you'll like one, or all, or none. I think they're pretty eclectic, but whatevs. Anyway...

Seek & Detroy
When I'm pissed off, this song is perfect for blasting. Classic Metallica.

Since U Been Gone
No matter my mood, this song makes me wanna go out and have a blast. On a nice day, it's like nirvana for a few minutes.

Nineteen
I heart Tegan and Sara and this is my favorite song by them.

Caring Is Creepy
This song has gotten me through some pretty tough days. It's easily one of my favorite songs of all time.

Shadow of the Day
This is my song of the moment. I don't even like Linkin Park very much. But this song is ballin.

PS, this story makes me really happy...

so...
i was in the car with Chelsea and Noel last weekend on our way to Toledo. We had practiced for a little while before we left and I think, in general, we feel really good about the music and us playing together, live, recording, what have you. We were already in a good mood and pumped for Gilda's and then "Since U Been Gone" came on the radio and Chelsea and I squealed like little girls for one good solid breath and then pulled it together in time to belt out the entire song.

Saturdays
For the first time in a long time, I love Saturdays something fierce. I have a 9-5, mon-fri job right now, so Saturdays are my fav. It usually means I don't need to wake up at any certain time and the chances of practicing are generally pretty good. Since the music thing is usually coupled with a trip out to the bar somewhere with some of my favorite ladies, it makes for a great day. AND i usually lay in bed for a really long time on Sunday, so knowing that all day Saturday is pretty good too.

finding shit you thought you lost forever
I cleaned my car out the other day and found two of my Zippos that I was certain had been sucked into the vortex with Papi. But, there they were, under my seat. One of them has the Vitruvian man and the other is my original Jack Daniels lighter. So, I mean, it was a really big deal for me. I thought they had left me forever.

It's just as good as finding money in an old pair of jeans, getting off work early on a nice day, minus the secretary of state, which, ps, was only miserable because i was number "00" and they were on "55" when I got there. And I had to bring everything to a screeching hault because they ran out of numbers. I went up to the counter and asked the woman for more and I could feel the whole room shift, like they were all thinking, you stupid fucking bitch. I am number 57, and I'm late for something really important and my father is sick and i have a headache and if i don't get out of here soon, i will have a meltdown.

The lady went to grab more and was walking at a glacial pace and then the room shifted and they wanted to burn her at the stake in the town square and then click the cover of the number thing was closed and she said, "pull carefully."

I said thank you and spied a little girl trying to sneak her way to the numbers before me. I knew instantly that she was either, a very over anxious child that was told she could pull the number, OR, she had a bitch for a mother who was using her kid as a pawn to get to the numbers before me EVEN THOUGH THEY CAME IN AFTER ME. Either way, I was like, fuck you little girl and/or your mother. I was here first.

So the secretary of state employee woman walked away and i wedged my way in front of this little girl who barely cleared my knee caps and pulled the "00".

But I got out of there alive and finished my errands and picked up the amp I've been waiting for and came home and played with it, and holy shit, it is easily the coolest thing ever.

I would like to leave you with...
one of my favorite songs by one of my favorite bands. I wanted to save it for the end. This song is so effing good. Give it a go. Trust me. As Tall As Lions rock my world in all sorts of ways, including this song:

Ghost of York

raindrops on roses

2008-04-02T11:38:00.032-04:00

So... I have started and abandoned exactly 84 posts. And, you know, a lot has gone down since my last post. Val was here the weekend before last and that was amazing.

By that Sunday I was a bell jar, and that sort of bled into Monday, which bled into a rough 24 hour stretch that tested me in a number of ways. But, seeing as how I rarely blog about dramatic shit (to protect the innocent/in favor of not bumming everyone out/etc.), I am going to blog about something that has absolutely nothing to do with unhappiness.

Here are a few of my favorite things right now...

Bravo's TOP CHEF (Chicago)

I la-la-love this show for so many reasons. First of all, I love making food. I don't flex my cooking muscles as often as I should, really. I did last night though, ps. I made tortellini in a roasted garlic parmesan tomato sauce topped with fresh grated parmesan and then made my signature dish: bruchetta.

Anyway, I love this show. For anyone who doesn't know, the show is like Project Runway in the kitchen. They have 15 or so contestants and give them crazy challenges, but they all involve food. Last week the chefs had to cater to a zoo benefit dinner, designing their menu around the diets of some of the animals.

I mean, that's some crazy shit. I love watching them flip out in the kitchen, fighting over burners and sabotaging each other with missing ingredients and misinformation. Somehow, they all manage to put together a plate of food that I have never, ever seen before, but would totally eat (except the meat).

It drives Rori crazy when I watch it, but I swear it's good. Oh, and there's a lesbo couple on the show too. One of them has a faux hawk, the other wears big dangly turqouise earrings, AND there's a dude on the show with a faux hawk too. I'm rethinking my hairstyle.

Also, if you click on the link to the dude with the faux hawk, you'll see him wearing pink crocks. Why are people still wearing those? And if you want to know how to style a faux hawk, look no further.

Enchanted

Oh. My. God. Have you seen this movie yet? I wish I would've seen it in theatres, but it was still awesome watching it at home.

This movie has most everything I love in a movie: singing, dancing, animation transported into reality, Manhattan, precocious little girls, a naive leading lady, talking animals and a BA wicked witch. OMG, and the ginormous dance number in central park seriously made my heart smile:

I know that might sound really queer, but I swear it's cute AND funny and not annoying at all. I've been humming one of the songs for a week now and Rori nearly kicks me when I launch into "I've been dreaming of a true love's kiss..."

this video i found on youtube

I typed my name in the search field and this was one of the things that popped up. Apparently, there is some other Elida out there charming the pants off of somebody, so much so, that they were inspired to make a youtube video about her.

I have decided to be a big giant creep ass and make one as an ode to my bestie, JP. As soon as it is completed, I will have it up here.

the band

The ladies and I made things official in January. I remember the exact date. It was January 12th. I remember the exact date because I used a bit of forethought. It was the first night we played together as a group. Afterwards, we got shitty drunk. Chelsea passed out on the couch in Jessy's old room and I set up the air mattress for Noel in the music room/living room.

I have a pretty good memory, but never would've remembered the date so I saved the following text message so that I wouldn't have to rely on my blurry hung over memory. I received this the following morning from Chelsea:

"Wake up. My head hurts." -Chelsea

I got up and it wasn't long before I laughed my ass off as I cleaned the sauce off of the wall from when Chelsea chucked part of a French bread pizza at me the night before. She was really hung over that morning of the aforementioned text. We all felt like shit, as we poured ourselves glasses of more alcohol that morning. I mean, we just had to. There was some Arbor Mist in the fridge and it sounded delicious and also got rid of our headaches.

My point is, that we've started this band and we're making music and hopefully playing shows soon. And I'm sure that everyone's sick of me saying it in passing constantly, but it's true: playing with them is what makes me the happiest right now.

So, you know. There's that. Check out Chelsea's myspace page for the tracks she’s already recorded. It'll give you an idea of where we heading. Just try to imagine the songs with drums, bass (eventually) and me dancing around playing guitar like a crazy person especially when we do Scars. PS, Scars is my fav.

We'll have a myspace page ready as soon as we lay down the new versions of everything we've worked on collectively thus far. Stay tuned.

the girls next door

I think I've mentioned that show before and I did because I love it so much. I have no idea why I love that show so much, but I do. Kelly came over the other night and we watched a few episodes and laughed our asses off. Everything is funnier when Kelly's around, but I promise, the show is funny.

I used to hate Kendra because she is so effing stupid and her laugh makes me wanna put in ear plugs. Hugh Hefner is just gross. When I watch the show, I try not to think about him having sex with any of them, because it makes me cringe. I mean, he's old and has loose skin and old balls, and gross.

But it's funny. Very funny.

This Girl Called Automatic Win

I la-la-love reading Riese's blog and watching the VLOGs and her recaps of the L word are better than the show, which to her, I guess, is not saying a whole lot. But really, truly, she is amazing. If you're not reading her stuff yet, I find that peculiar since I have a habit of mentioning her constantly.

Rori gets pissed because I ignore her when Riese has a new post. You know, there are a great many compromises to be made in any relationship, reading Riese's blog is just not something I'm willing to negotiate.

Check her out. You won't be sorry.

And lastly...

I was browsing for photos to put up of the ladies and I practicing when I stumbled upon the following photograph that me all sorts of happy. I literally LOLed:

You know Avant Johnson? I used to shave his grandmother.

2008-03-23T10:31:00.022-04:00

So many things.

chessy, melty, crunchy

First of all, I had a weird lunch break on Friday. I was craving Taco Bell like whoa. As a matter of fact, I'm craving it again today too.

The building I'm working out of right now is in the western most part of Ann Arbor, which means that there's nothing around here really. So, I went online and got directions to the nearest Taco Bell location.

I found it successfully, which I was somewhat surprised about. If you don't know Ann Arbor, it will be meaningless when I tell you that it's confusing as hell. The grid of the city fans out kind of like downtown Detroit, so keeping a firm grasp on what direction you're heading is, is nothing short of remarkable if you're unfamiliar.

Anyway, I found it while talking on the phone. So it was sort of like a double whoa that I found it in one shot. When I pulled up into the driveway I saw a sign that said "DO NOT ENTER" and there was an arrow pointing to the left. For whatever reason, my brain processed the sign as "DO NOT ENTER this way, go to the left instead."

Yeah. I was wrong. Way wrong. I went to the left and found myself making a really sharp turn. I thought to myself, this is weird. But I finished the turn and the little driveway spit me into the drive through going in the opposite direction.

Damn.

Now what?

There wasn't a lot of room for my car. In fact, there was just barely enough space for my car to pull past the people getting their food, but not enough to pull completely out of the drive through. The entrance narrowed, leaving only enough room for an incoming vehicle. So, I sat there and watched and waited as at least half a dozen people pulled in, placed their order and pulled passed me.

I was surprised that no one even glanced in my direction. I guess, they were really excited about their food, blinded by their hunger.

I sat there for at least five minutes until I was able to pull out, turn around and pull back in to get my Mexican pizza no meat, sub beans.

I felt like an idiot, but it was a small price to pay for my delicious lunch.

I should've taken my little mistake as a warning that maybe it wasn't such a great idea to eat my food while I was driving. I felt pretty confident about my driving and navigation skills. So much so, that I opted to eat and trust my memory to get me back to work.

Somewhere along the way I made a wrong turn. I mean, it happened, like that. One minute I was driving alongside the hospital campus and the next I was driving next to the Huron river. My jaw dropped and some of the melty deliciousness dripped down my hand. I was confused. But I was not disheartened.

I continued eating and guessed at my next few turns. I made a quick right onto a tiny road that looked promising, but was actually a hidden on ramp for M14. Within seconds I was on the freeway and heading out of the city. My jaw dropped again.

I mean, seriously. How hard could it be? I felt like an even bigger moron, but I stayed on the freeway, hoping to turn around at the next exit. It just so happened that the next exit was the one for US23 south, which seemed more logical than heading to Plymouth. So, I got on 23 and to my shock and amazement, got off at the first exit because it was the exit I get off on everyday when I head into work.

Ta-da. Success.

I totally got back to work and with time to spare. I was happy and full and ready to get back to work.

PS, i found the most amazing picture when I did a Google image search for Taco Bell:

my "luck" continued

The snow started coming down pretty vigorously when I was leaving work. It took my roughly half of a century to get to my cousin's place for dinner.

I will never understand why people freak out when it snows. It's not that hard to drive in the snow. It just isn't. Most of these people have driven in hundreds of snowfalls before, but they still drive like South Americans who have never seen snow with their own two eyes before. It's Michigan and it snows sometimes. This year, it snowed a lot. If you don't feel comfortable driving in the snow, don't. You're just bugging the shit out of everyone else.

So, I got to my cousins house and was horrified to discover that my pen had exploded in my pants. My leg is still dyed. This woman I work with suggested using Ajax and that terrifies me a little, but it's no more terrifying that the thought of having the ink under my skin for yet another day. So, later, I will probs try the super abrasive cleaner on my skin. It's gonna be interesting.

differently abled

The doors to this building (where I work, ps) remind me of something from Minority Report. They're big and heavy and glass and almost no one actually physically opens them. There's a big square plate button with a handicap logo that you can press and the doors will open for you. The location of the button is far from the door, so everyone presses it and by the time they get to the opening of the door, they waltz right in rolling luggage case behind them and all. I have yet to see an actual differently abled person use it.

And everyone brings luggage to work. Why? What could they possibly fill those cases with that's too important to do without and too risky to leave at their enormous desks? Do you know what I'm talking about? The suitcases that could pass for a carry-on at an airport, the kind with the wheels and the handle that pulls out. That kind.

snacking relations

The PR wing is full of snackers and the Medical Records staff has zero personality. Also, I have met two retarded people, who, if I had to guess, are probably not full on retarded. They are at least significantly autistic and they ask us really strange questions while they hunch over in corners having already alienated every single one of their co-workers. And I feel bad, you know. No one wants to talk to them, so I do. We have very interesting conversations about multi-colored paper clips and American Idol (which I've never seen once).

The other day I came home and my dad stopped by. I turned to leave the room for something and he asked, "why do you have shit on your pants?"

And I was all, "Whaaaa?"

Turns out it was a raisin that must've gotten stuck to my leg while I was under this one ladies' desk in the PR dept. I got down under her desk, after moving her foot rest out of the way (why with the foot rests? is it that exhausting to sit down? I've worked a desk job before and found them to be unnecessary. usually if you spin around in your chair once in a while it helps), I came upon one popcorn kernel, one walnut, one cheez it, one pretzel and apparently one raisin that got stuck to my ass.

and lastly

I found this at work the other day:

Awesome.

Oh, and just in case anyone was wondering, JP and I are still besties. :)

"I want to be very clear about the Immaculate Conception."

2008-03-10T19:32:00.039-04:00

Before I get to the rest of this post (that I wrote yesterday, ps) I wanna talk about how amazing my night was. Last night was fantastic. Rori and I went to Affirmations w/my dad. They had their first play, it included five monologues and a one act play by Christopher Durang. By. The. Way. I love Christopher Durang. I've loved his plays since high school, when I fell into theatre almost by accident. His dark, absurdist humor cracks my shit up. Love, Love, Love (Love, Love) Christopher Durang.

One of the monologues they did was from my favorite play by him called "Sister Mary Ignatius Explains It All For You". Although, that wasn't my favorite part of the show. I was so completely floored by the performance given by one of my very dear friends, the ever fabulous Chuck Simon. He donned a vintage 50's house wife Easter sunday pink frilly dress number AND heels to deliver a monologue from "Baby With The Bathwater":

Helen and John are very unprepared for parenthood. They can’t seem to name the baby. John thinks it’s a boy, but Helen says the doctors said they could decide later. When the baby cries, they can’t quite decide what to do. To their rescue comes Nanny – who enters their apartment as if by magic, and is full of abrupt shifts of mood, first cooing at the baby soothingly, then screaming at it. In subsequent scenes, John and Nanny have an affair, Helen takes baby and leaves, only to come back a moment later rain-soaked and unhappy. (“Well if it isn’t Nora five minutes after the end of A Doll’s House,” says Nanny.) At some point they finally name the baby Daisy, and as a toddler, Daisy has a penchant for running in front of buses; or for lying, depressed, in piles of laundry. We hear an alarming essay Daisy has written in school, and the principal, the terrifying Miss Willoughby, is oblivious to the essay’s cry for help, and instead gleefully awards it an A for style. Finally, we meet Daisy – dressed as a girl, but otherwise a polite, confused young man.

Chuck delivered a monologue as Daisy in that amazing dress. He was flawless and fabulous. It was so effing hysterical. I loved every second of it. After the show we went to Soho for drinks.

I am so pumped to start volunteering at Affirmations. I mean, seriously, guys. I hadn't been in the center yet until last night when my dad gave me a tour. It's so fantastic; I want to be attached to that program in any way possible. It's a safe, beautiful place where LGBT youth can go to hang out with other kids just like them. The walls are lined with rotating works of art by local artists and they have groups tailor made for a wide range of LGBT issues. I'm so proud to have that in the Metro area.

It's really beautiful. If you haven't checked it out yet, swing by and check it out. It's right in downtown Ferndale. I plan on getting involved ASAP. I spoke to the director of the show last night and she said that they'd like to do another show closer to the summer and I was like, "Holla! Sign me up!"

So, yeah. Really, really, really super excited about that.

ps, when I went looking for specific quotes from "Baby With The Bathwater" I came upon this. There are no words.

The rest of this entry was written yesterday, but is still completely relevant:

The interweb and I have finally rekindled our love affair and I am nearly beside myself with joy! What does this mean for you? I will be able to pack these posts with more fun stuff again. Like this article I found on Riese's blog. It's a fictional account of Heath Ledger's days written in the first person. It's good.

Tina Fey was in Parade this past weekend and it made me even more excited to see Baby Mama.

I love the part at the end of the trailer. The first time I watched it, I think I might've rewatched that sink part maybe five times. Awesome. I love Amy Poehler. The pair also did this really funny skit called "Sexy Tennis" during the writer's strike.

They're effing awesome. If I ever met them in real life, I would probs pass out or talk too much or freeze up like an idiot or something. I mean, I know they're normal people, but c'mon. They're so talented and hot at the same time that it's just ridiculous.

Anyway, I love Tina Fey. And Amy Poehler.

Remember how I blogged about how much I hate Facebook a while back? Yeah, well, I hate them even more now because until just now I had over 100 requests sent to me. They included but were not limited to:

Good karma
Karma
Scrabulous
Detroit tigers fans
Imperial galaxy
Knighthood
Fight club
Which 1950’s pinup are you?
Spice Girls
Genius
Dr. Phil’s Test
Your Birthday
Who is your one true love?
Which Super Smash Bros. Character are you?
What type of girl are you? (the gay kind, ps)
What’s your bedroom grade?
Are you good in bed?
What’s your biggest turn-on?
What is your kama sutra position?
Grammar test
The breakfast club quiz
Perfect match
Hug request
What does your birth date mean?
What’s your best quality?
What’s your musical instrument?
What is your dance style?
How evil are you?
What is your secret sexual fantasy?
Which ‘the hills’ character on you? (WTF is ‘the hills’)
What is your sex color?
What would you look like anime?
What color are you?
Are you a loser?
What kind of bride would you be?
PlaneCrazy
Oregon Trail (5 more of those fuckers!!)
What is your sex song?
What type of heart do you have?
You are sooo good looking
Nerd fight
Meet new people
Wedding calculator
What Disney song describes your life right now?
What flower are you?
What kind of smile do you have?
What is your secret sexual orientation? (um, I live with my gf. hello?)
What type of eyes do you have?
Characterize
What’s your rose color?
Dodgeball
How fat are you?
How stupid are you?
Blackjack
How sexy are you?

PS: all of the one's bolded were sent from the same person. Brandon Grantz. He caught wind of how much the applications are ruining my life and has made a hobby out of bombarding me with them almost daily. Damn! Here's a picture of Brandon. Dead.

Relax. it's from the movie we shot together that no one will ever see because it's been so long now, that if I show it to anyone they might turn to stone. Seriously.

Oh my god, seriously, today is the nicest day ever! It is so freaking pretty outside. As I am writing this draft I am seated facing a wall inside of, what basically amounts to a bunker.

See, i just got myself this new job. It's temporary but they're paying me a butt ton of money to do all of this IT grunt work stuff. Also, I am getting paid right this very moment to type this sentence. I didn't even interview for the job. I had a connection who called me a week ago and said, "here. this job is yours if you want it." By the next day I was hired w/out ever filling out an application, drug test, background check, nothing. Talk about trust. I feel like it's the 50's and they are simply trusting that I'm not a piece of shit or a psycopath based solely on the fact that I used to babysit for one of their newest employees. See? It's totally like the 50's, only better because no one cares that I'm gay; they just care that I do my job. How great is that?

I am having the best week ever. Well, sort of. Basically, yes. It started out really shitty. Rori left for ASBD and I was all sorts of sad. Some might say that I had a lot of feelings. Because I did, you know. But today it's all over and I'm happy to have her back. The bunnies might have died had she not returned, and then she would have been all kind of upset and she'd probs break up with me and move out because I killed the damn rabbits.

So, this job is awesome. The people are normal, even though one of them looks exactly like the creep ass from Red Dragon played by Ralph Fiennes.

Real quick! Speaking of creep ass: I have not seen JP in what feels like a lifetime but actually amounts to a few weeks. But still, it's getting ridiculous, kind of like the cold that's ruining my life right now.

But I'm happy! Things are going well! The weather is pretty so I am jaded in the best way! PS: I love JP.

Here was my first day:

Monday 9am

I arrived at 9am, even though I was aiming for 8:45 (ps, Ann Arbor is ridiculous pps, I still love it). I tried to go in the wrong door, found the right door, went through a maze of hallways and then up an elevator. It was basically like when Will Smith goes for the little test in Men In Black, except w/out aliens. But still, it was pretty much the same thing because I am working with a guy who looks like this:

He's nice though. I sent my mom and step-dad a text message:

ME: So I am riding in a car right now to a site w/a guy who looks like the creeper from Red Dragon "Come ride with me. For my pleasure."
HER: LMAO! Well, it's daytime and not rainging. You should be ok.
MY STEP-DAD: "Manny is a fool!"

Have you seen Red Dragon? It's really good.

Also. Have you heard who the latest inductee into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame is? Madonna. And who presented her with her little plaque or statue or what have you? Justin Timberlake. If you're anything like me, you thought, "wtf? Madonna? Rock?"

I mean, I love Madonna, but she is not rock & roll. She's the dance queen/gay icon/diva extraordinaire. But she is not The Beatles or The Rolling Stones. I mean, I guess her spirit is rock and roll. She's a rebel, she rolled around in a wedding dress on MTV once upon a time and into our lives and made that Sex book and makes the best dance songs ever. When Madonna comes on in the club, everyone loses their shit. The shirts come off the boys, we all squeal and dance like our lives are on the line. Because she's Madonna. She's amazing. But, she is NOT rock.

But, you know, good for her. Whatevs. It's Madonna.

SO...my new obsession is with a certain TV show that I never, ever, under any circumstances thought I would like: The Girls Next Door. I still don't get it but I effing love that show. Rori has the first two seasons on DVD and I have watched every single episode at least once and some of them I have viewed again with commentary.

I don't know. It's really funny. But I can't figure out why I watch it so much. Playboy's not my thing, I'm not usually that into blonde's and I usually only watch The First 48 on A & E....not anymore.

Our house, in the middle of our street...

2008-03-07T17:33:00.004-05:00

We’re renting a house in Dearborn now; we moved in on Saturday. I like it. It’s right by the park. And I know that renting a house is kind of stupid, but so is renting an apt in Detroit w/out renter’s insurance and then losing all your shit in a fire. So, yeah.

But the house is nice. The street is so eerily quiet. Sometimes late at night I feel like we are the only two people left on the face of the planet. And, you know, we’d be screwed, because procreation is just fucking impossible. It’s just so quiet.

I’ll admit, that this stoop is much more comfortable than the last. There’s a couch and it’s this great big porch with outdoor carpeting on it and I can see down the block through everyone else’s patios just like ours. But this stoop is so god awful boring. There is next to nothing going on at nearly any hour during the day.

There is a family across the street who goes out to the stoop regularly. Well, I guess I’m not super sure on their status as a family. There is one woman and she has fluffy dark hair and drapes scarves over the shoulders of her pants suit. She steps out onto the porch frequently for a cigarette and is almost always joined by another woman with blonde hair like a TV news anchor. That shit is lacquered on her head like whoa. It’s probably wind tunnel proof. They both speak a Middle Eastern dialect to one another and so I have no idea what they are ever talking about.

They seem nice enough, but all they do is come out to smoke and talk in a language I don’t speak. So, I mean, what’s the point?

Our neighbor upstairs is a boy. His name is Nick and Rori met him yesterday. He sort of/kind of/basically hit on her. I could hear them outside the door while I was making dinner. We had to unchain the side door so he could put some more of his smelly ass hockey gear in the basement.

Seriously, sweaty boy gym bag is the worst smell ever. I mean ever. I feel like gagging when I walk down the stairs. But it’s ok, because it’s not like I’m gonna hang out down there anyway. But I swear to god, if he says one word about not liking the noise from the drum kit, I will just jam his gross ass bag at his face and be like, “um, hello, this is way worse.”

Anyway, he seems nice enough. He’s really super quiet. Or maybe there’s just really good carpeting/insulation in the house. When he met Rori he was all “haha, sorry I just need to get to the basement to drop of my gear. [looks down at her slippers] Hey those are really cute slippers.”

And she was all, “haha, oh my gosh, thanks…blah blah blah”

I started laughing. I can’t wait til he finds out she has a girlfriend.

As we were loading all of Rori’s stuff into the moving van (not a u-haul, ps. They didn’t have any available) I was getting the biggest kick out of how she labeled everything. Among her stuff, we found the following labels:

Oh my god, shoes (3 of those)
Rugs & tools ☺
Really random
Really random & hair products
Kitchen really random
Hall closet?
F☺☺D

Unpacking them was even better, When I opened the “really random & hair products” box, the first thing laying on top was her pair of candy apple red stripper heels. And in another box labeled for the bathroom I found the light up wand that goes with her Rainbow Bright costume.

In a box she labeled “Blankets” I found ONE blanket, one pillow and a hammer. She is the weirdest packer ever. When asked why she packed so haphazardly, she laughed, “Pft… I have no idea why you’re even asking me. Do you think I know? I just grabbed stuff and put it into boxes. At least they were labeled.”

“Well,” I said, “sort of.”

OH! And then this amazing thing happened while we were loading up the moving van. Wait! Let me start somewhere else…

On the morning of the move I got up @ 7am, which is no small feat and drove with my mother to go pick up the truck. I called my dad several times to let him know we were on our way. He was supposed to meet us there and drive the truck for me because I was absolutely terrified of that kind of responsibility. When I finally got a hold of him he was groggy on the phone having just woken up, “Sorry honey, I was up at the bar late last night.” I could hear the beeping sounds of the buttons on his microwave, which was a good sign. That meant that he was heating up a cup of coffee, which also meant that at least he was out of bed. He’s super fast at getting ready, so he was out the door in no time, thank god. But traffic held him up for a while.

AND everyone else was late too. I couldn’t believe it. I mean, for real, everyone else got a wake up call from me, the queen of over sleeping. I mean, I over sleep like it’s my job, and I was up before these chumps with no problem.

I seriously have a ton of sympathy for them; I just couldn’t believe that every single person slept in. It was unreal. Even JP overslept and she’s basically my hero. So, I mean, what does that tell you? The moral of the story here kids, is do not rely on your cell phone as your alarm clock/don’t stay at the bar late the night before you have an early commitment the following morning.

Once we got the ball rolling it was basically smooth sailing. We were all cracking up at the ridiculous box labels and telling jokes. And then the most amazing little sequence unraveled before my very eyes. It was comedy gold.

I was cracking up at something that Brandon said while I was trying to tape up a stackable plastic tote drawer thing that had one of the wheels dangling by a piece of packaging tape while I was trying to talk on the phone at the same time. I think I was telling Kaitlyn about how crazy all of the boxes were labeled when I tipped the stack the wrong way and they started falling out. So I tugged on it quickly and tipped it the other way hoping to correct it. Instead, I pulled off part of the stack and all of the drawers went zipping down to the floor. They hit the ground with a great bang and it caused one of the bunnies to get scared and bit Brandon in the hand. He had just been petting her and now she turned on him and then went jumping around the inside of her cage. I dropped my phone and Abi dropped the roll of tape and it went tumbling out of her hand and across the room, but she still had the end of it, so it was a long trail of tape that just missed Jay’s glasses that he dropped on the floor near my feet during the commotion. I jerked forward to catch the drawers, Brandon jumped back, Abi jumped forward and almost collided with Jay as he reached to save his precious Oakleys. And yet I still managed to hold the phone with my shoulder. But the conversation was forgotten as we exploded in laughter. So I called Kaitlyn back later and told her about the hammer.

This whole move has been fun. Then again, I like moving. I’m the crazy person who likes this sort of thing.

And you know, that whole fire was kind of a blessing in disguise, because it’s a lot easier to move when you can fit all of your belongings into an SUV. It really puts things in perspective. I might downsize even further. It’s nice knowing that I could pick up and go whenevs, I think Michelle has been onto something this whole time. I mean, it’s not like I’d go anywhere; it’s just nice to know that I could.

Easter Parade

2008-02-29T10:57:00.007-05:00

It has been almost an entire month since everything went down, the fire, the loss of a job, the failed attempt to get a sweet apt that has now transformed into a house in seriously less than 24 hours. I have written three songs that are directly related to the event that sent this month into a tailspin that I haven't shared with the girls yet because we lost almost all of our equipment in the fire as well as my home, so we haven't had a rehearsal space or the time to do it.

It is remarkable how busy I have managed to be while jobless and homeless.

We move into the house tomorrow/saturday and if you put a gun to my head and asked me what I thought about the whole thing, the most I could offer would be a shoulder shrug. I constantly feel like the room is spinning and a lot of that probably has to do with my sunny disposition.

I have only slept one full night without a nightmare since the fire. It seems I was either traumatized by the event or my stress haunts me even in my dreams. Probs both.

Last night I dreamt that I was driving around with JP. She picked me up from a coffee house on campus, but it wasn't WSU, it felt more like Iowa or Wyoming, there were dirt roads and the coffee shop sat on the corner in a rhombus shaped building that felt more like a saloon. I was half expecting tumbleweeds to go rolling by. But they didn't. JP picked me up and we drove around the dirt roads and had a bird's eye view of the whole thing, like I was floating above my body or something and we drove and talked and then spun back around and ta-da I was back in the coffee house with Alex Hill and George Wagner. The former I haven't seen in maybe two months, maybe more and the latter has not made an appearance in three times as long.

Regardless, I was in this coffee shop/saloon and it was mid-day and silent like right before a tornado touches down. And then it did. A proverbial tornado touched down. I heard what sounded like a parade coming from down the street. You know, the marching band honking in the distance, the cymbals crashing. It sounded like a Gardner White President's Day sale commercial. I peaked outside and stretched my neck so I could see down the street and there it was a big pink float, like a towering wedding cake for Paris Hilton.

And then suddenly the facade began to melt away and blow into the breeze, chunks of cray paper flying behind the vehicle in a great trail with enough consistency and matter to look like water from a faucet. It melted quickly, this float and disappeared into the breeze revealing a military vehicle, much like a tank with a little room on top that men were shooting guns from, probably AK-47's or something.

Just like that, an innocent parade turned violent and I felt like I was actually on the streets of baghdad. There was a ring of flashing light around the "float", gunshots at the people lining the streets. They fell like dominoes, one right after the other and suddenly my legs were moving underneath me and I was holding a small child and running to a getaway van (like in the movies). I was running and Alex was still there but George was not, but a black man was and so was this woman whom I'd never seen before. We hopped in the back of that van and he drove, the black man.

Maybe a 1/2 mile down we made a stop and I was alone. The van was standing still, the keys dangling from the ignition like someone had just jumped out. The sun danced off of them, so I squinted my eyes and looked through the other window. I was standing outside of the van that was now a big truck, like the kinds I've seen in movies used to transport troops in war zones. The canvas top was flapping in the same breeze that tore up the float.

My mind began to wander. Would they have opened fire if the float hadn't melted? Where did Alex go? Where is the child? Where am I?

I walked up to the building we were parked outside of and climbed the fire escape. I thought I heard voices and figured it must have been Alex and the rest of out little caravan so I moved towards them. But as I go closer to the top of the steps I heard other footsteps from down below me. I looked down to find a man who was tall and wearing a uniform. I knew that he was not one of us, I have no idea how, but I knew. And with the gun that appeared in my hand I shot him in the head. Blood shot out and so did brain matter and pieces of skull and his body collapsed underneath him.

I jumped off the the fire escape and into the van that was a van again and drove. I was alone now and headed towards no where, only to find where every single person I have ever known had disappeared to. It was the strangest thing. I literally saw everyone, distant relatives, people I knew from church growing up, my parents, my sisters, people I have known who have passed away, people that never, ever cross my mind, people I haven't thought about in years. They were all there, riding plastic sleds down a dirt hill to a big old church that, from the outside, looked like a funeral home on stilts.

The inside was just like the church I grew up in, but reupholstered and warmer feeling than what I remembered as a young child. There was a lot of beige. And there was a minister preaching about God's grace and so on and so forth and I kept wondering, where are the fucking tanks? Have they passed us by? Are they on their way? I walked out the front doors trying to follow the sound of a man shouting.

On the front steps there was a man preaching to the people coming down on sleds and the others perched on the hill like they were on a sunday picnic. He was yelling and carrying on about how good God was and Jesus and The Holy Ghost and I grabbed him and turned him towards me and begged him to be quiet. And he looked at me like I was crazy and suddenly he was gone, vanished under the grip of my hands on his shoulders.

I turned and the hill was empty and the sleds were gone and so were the people that were just on them a second ago. I ran inside the church and no one was there, the beige and warm mahogany was gone. The light pierced through the stained glass windows and projected their beautiful images on the dull gray now resting below them.

I felt that damn breeze again coming in from the doors and I stretched my neck once again to see what lay beyond me. There it was again, the "float", barreling towards me.

when there's nothing left to burn you have to set yourself on fire.

2008-02-12T10:45:00.015-05:00

Hello!

How the hell are you? I know it's been a while and I apologize for the delay on posting, but I promise you I have a good excuse. The following is the post I've been meaning to finish, but I wanted to add some pictures and I had to sort through the wreckage to find my camera cord and then I lost my camera for a few days after that. BUT I have found both and finally finished this entry. I'll warn you;it's really long. But whatevs.

Here's the rest that I started a week ago:

[02-12-08]

It has been exactly one week since my last post, and let me tell you, it has been the busiest/craziest/saddest/most frustrating week of my life. Hands down. I'm going to try and not write an epic, but who knows once I get going. I'll try to basically do the cliff's notes version of everything, unless there are really amazing details. Anyway...

On Tuesday I started a blog entry that I may or may not finish. It was called:

the end of an era [the stoop diaries pt. 1]

I was planning on moving at the end of February, so I figured I should do a series of posts recounting my time spent at The Forest Arms. In a way, I owe all of my blogging efforts to that building. Back when I was still blogging on myspace, I wrote a blog entitled "OH GOD".

That was the first post I wrote about a few subsequent posts involving the stoop. That stoop changed my life in a number of ways and I will miss it dearly.

Later that night/early the following morning as I watched the flames billow into the air, I thought it was strange that I had begun such a series only hours before.

ON THE PHONE (wed. afternoon):

ERIC: So, it's gone. What about Sunshine?
ME: Yeah it's gone. I hope her hoodie is ok.
ERIC:...aw...the stoop.
ME: I know.

Wednesday 4am

I sat up quickly; the sounds of screaming and panic outside the window met my ears just as I was about to drift to sleep. Then: sirens. I could see the flashers outside my bedroom window. I got out of bed and she stirred.

"What's wrong?" she asked groggily.

"I don't know yet." It was Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, that amount of commotion was normal for a Friday or Saturday night.

Three loud bangs, like gunshots. And then three more. I placed my body between her and my window and I tensed. If a bullet was to come in there, crashing through the windows, or piercing through the hundred year old plaster, I would absorb it in me. I had to.

A few seconds passed by, more banging that sounded less like gunshots and more like pounding, somewhere, outside. In the courtyard? More screaming. I ran to the bathroom window, which is the most discrete window in my apt and I peaked out through a gap in the blinds. I saw my neighbors running out of the building and then back in, up and down the sidewalk of the beautiful courtyard, running screaming in a state on panic fit for a disaster film, a blockbuster. I saw the fire truck, the ambulance, cop cars pulling up in front of the building.

I panned over, holding steady to the path of people running back into the building and then it caught my eye. I looked up: flames. The windows of the apartment building across the way on the fourth floor were being devoured by flames and great puffs of jet black smoke.

I couldn't believe it. That would mark the second time in my life that I have been inside of an apartment building when it caught on fire. I ran back into the bedroom and turned on the light.

"You've gotta get up. The building's on fire."

She sat up, alert, "What?"

I opened the blinds in my room dramatically, sent the shooting up so they smacked the frame. I gestured out the window, "The fucking building is on fire."

She scrambled for nothing, something, anything, "What do we do?"

"Well, it's on the other side of the building, so we have a second to think about what we wanna grab. And let's just fucking pray that it doesn't make it over here."

"Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay." She repeated it like a mantra, searching for the next thought, waiting for direction, frantic.

"Alright, first we need to change into regular clothes, and layers. We might be outside for a while. And then we need to pack as many bags as we can carry with the shit we can't replace."

"Okay. Okay. Okay."

We changed our clothes and started packing. The screams continued outside. The sounds of breaking glass, probably from flames chewing and then spitting out windows on the fourth floor rained down on the courtyard. More sirens, louder. People were shouting now, women were crying and some of the men were yelling into the night amazed.

We made it out with, quite literally, as many things as we could carry. I felt like crying. I was already tired and now this. I tried to hold tight to the last panic free moment spent in my first apartment, my first little home that had been just mine for a few months. It was nice and quiet and old and charming and mine. Well, sort of, month to month I guess. But, you know, it felt like mine still. I knew in my gut that I might never be able to go back in. The voice of my mother echoed over my shoulder, "prepare for the worst and hope for the best..."

We made our way across the street with the others and I felt like maybe we grabbed too much. It looked like everyone else left in much more of a panic and well before us. Most everyone had their coats on over their pajamas, clutching cats and dogs and cigarettes and each other.

The drizzle of freezing rain did nothing to help put out the blaze that grew to a five alarm fire in a very small amount of time. The wind was much more effective in spreading the fire, as was the 100 year old wooden frame of the building. The fire laughed the faces of the men who faught them as they spread with a ferocity that I have never seen before in real life. It looked like something from Gone With The Wind.

As the fire spread I started rethinking everything I grabbed:

Adeline (burgundy Ibanez)
Jack (black Squire)
my laptop
her laptop
my camera
her camera
chargers (both phone and camera)
photo album
photo box (w/grandma's 120 wedding negatives from 1950)
half empty bottle of Jack Daniels
half empty bottle of Coke
some of her clothes
Wallet

and that's it. I had only the clothes on my body which were made of layers, but did not include a bra.

It was strange; when we made our way to the sidewalk with everyone else, I felt like we had grabbed too much. But as the blaze continued to devour my building, I wished I would've just thrown shit out of my windows. I wish I would've done that with the bass guitar, the amps, and the drums that the ceiling collapsed on top of hours later under the weight of tens of thousands of gallons of water.

Wednesday 5am

After standing outside for an hour, city buses arrived down the street and parked. They allowed everyone/anyone displaced from the building to keep warm on the bus as the firefighters did their best to control the fire that would eventually claim the entire fourth floor, turning it to ash.

The buses smelled like urine, but they were warm, dammit. I wanted to get to my things, but my car was blocked in by all of the fire trucks and all of the stuff I grabbed was inside of it. So I sat and then paced and contemplated.

The fire just kept burning and spreading and ruining our lives. Wild stories spread, one of which I believe despite what my landlord told us the next day. I really believe that the crazy bastard that lived on the fourth floor lit his kitchen and himself on fire. I really, really do. I don't care if Frank says he fell asleep with a cigarette. The story (Frank’s story) just does not add up.

We (the former residents of The Forest Arms) know that he was getting evicted. Mr. 417, aka fire starter, was to be out by midnight but he wouldn't leave. Police were called. Frank was up and involved. Mr. 417 said "hell no, i won't go" and barricaded himself inside.

There were no smoke alarms in the building. I mean, I saw them, walked by them everyday, just sort of assuming that they'd go off if I ever needed them. But they didn't. I heard no sounds, no one pounded on my door or Stanley's.

My next door neighbor woke up to a foot and a half of water pouring into his apartment. He grabbed a change of clothes and bailed wishing he would've grabbed his microwave. I have no idea why. Maybe the microwave was an antique?

Wednesday 6am

I called Kelly to come get us. She was working a shift for 96.3WDVD that night and got off at six. I asked her to come get us and she did. She took us to Rori's with all the things we had grabbed.

My mother called frantic, woken up by my step-dad who was watching the early morning news in bed.

I was exhausted; I tried to sleep, but couldn't. The calls/messages started to pour in and I couldn't keep up with them. I took a break and forced myself to rest for a few hours, almost taped my eyes shut.

Wednesday 11:30am

After sleeping for maybe three hours, we were picked up by my mother and my aunt Debbie. We sat and watched as the building smoldered on. Game plans were made and we parted ways after twiddling our thumbs for a few hours.

I called off work. Returned some phone calls and text messages.

I can't really remember what we did with the rest of the afternoon. I think we might've slept for as long as possible, showered.

OH YEAH!

Wednesday 9pm

We went to Target. I assumed all my shit was gone and I was still feeling very detached from the whole thing. So we went to Target and I bought a cute outfit and we met up with Chelsea and we went to goddamn Como's. Noel and co. were there too. The usual suspects.

No pictures were taken, so there is no evidence of such, but we did go and had a weird time.

Rori didn't drink at all. Well, she had water, but said "no thanks" to anything but.

And then Noel's friend Erin was standing there empty handed, so I asked her, "Are you drinking tonight?"

And she said, "No. I'm driving." How great is that?

I cracked up. It was like a movie, or one of those PSA's they used to show on TGIF on ABC. Do you remember those?

GIRL IN BAR: Are you drinking tonight?
OTHER GIRL: No. I'm driving.

A big glittery rainbow star shoots across the screen and then the tag: The more you know...

It was just like that. I had a sudden desire to watch Boy Meets World or something. Leisha Hailey was on that show once. Yep.

Anyway, Chelsea got really drunk and I drove, completely sober, ps. We went to United and got her chicken fingers that she wouldn't touch until the following morning and drove to Rori's. Chelsea passed out in the bathroom and I had a breakdown. It all hit me. I couldn't bear it and all of my grief came spilling out over my eyelids. I was heavy and still shaky, tired, frustrated. I felt all Nancy Kerrigan and cried out into the night "Why? Why? Why?"

And really, that doesn't matter. I just have a hard time keeping my emotions in check when I'm that exhausted. I still think going out was a good idea.

Thursday 10am

I called Frank, my kick ass landlord who would not cover up his guns even in the freezing rain the prior morning. He told me we would never be allowed in the building ever again. Dum dum dum. Son of bitch, I thought. But he offered to go in and get our belongings for us, if anything could be saved.

I made a bunch of phone calls and so did my parents.

Thursday 12pm

Cast of Characters in order of appearance:

Elida...............................ME
Rori................................my girlfriend
Pamela...........................my mom
Pat.................................my step-dad
Jerry...............................my uncle
Dennis...........................my cousin
Scott..............................my dad
Kelly..............................my friend
Jeff................................another uncle

We waited and I yelled at a couple bums that WOULD NOT LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE. And then all the stupid news cameras that WOULD NOT GO AWAY and "I think we should go inside and show the devastation." TONIGHT AT 11! Those bastards would not quit. They would butt into our conversations and take dramatic shots of my neighbors brushing soot off of their clothes.

I hated those news crews. It was so unnecessary. They had their story and then they bled it dry, bugging the shit out of everyone standing around. I wanted to make them eat and then shit their microphones but I was asked to keep my mouth in check by basically everyone but Pat and my dad. They just smiled.

We put our names on a list and Frank gave us appointments and then went in with garbage bags and burly men and returned with everything they could carry. My neighbors stood anxious, waiting in line. We discussed the timeline right after it happened, passed on the word that we would never, ever be allowed into the building ever again. Period.

FRANK: Alright, you guys, like I said before, you can't go inside. Make a list of what you want and we'll try and grab it.
ASIAN WOMAN: When wir be arrowed to go in?
FRANK: You can't go inside.
ASIAN MAN: Tomorrow?
FRANK: No. Never. You'll never be allowed in again. Ever.
ASIAN MAN: Fo-eva?
FRANK: Yes.
ASIAN MAN: (turning to the ASIAN WOMAN) Fo-eva.
ASIAN WOMAN: (gasps)

Frank and his men worked damn hard all day long. We were allowed to go into my apartment through the windows, but told to listen for creaking. It was a very comforting warning.

Everything was soaking wet and black. It looked like someone hosed it down in muck. It was disgusting. We had gloves and heavy duty garbage bags from Home Depot. We grabbed a lot. But in the days that followed, it has become apparent that most everything is ruined, soaked through with enough toxic water to make removing the smell a task that makes my head hurt so bad that I would rather take a stab at physics.

But we packed it all up and drove away after I took pictures and left a message. Ten bonus points for anyone who knows the reference.

We went back to my mom's and unloaded everything and then ate pizza and I changed my socks and wanted to pass out. But we drove home, Rori and I. And it all started sinking in even more. No home. It's a very strange feeling to lose your home to a fire and anyone who knows the feeling can agree.

I know I was moving out at the end of the month, but I wasn't quite ready to let go of that building. C'est la vie and so on an so forth.

Friday

Went to my mom's and started sorting through the mess, paid a visit to friends at Soho. It was nice. We watched some weirdo music videos and Anime on Logo. Typical Soho on a Friday night in the winter, I suppose.

Saturday

The second longest day of the week, I would learn. I scraped myself out of bed and went through some stuff I had brought to Rori's and then headed to my mom's to continue sorting through the mess.

Later that night, I headed to Detroit and Rori and Noel and I headed to Ann Arbor to meet up with Chelsea. Our original plan that night was to hang out in A2 for a bit at a bar and then drive to Toledo to Gilda's, a bar that I've been to once before with Chelsea. It's one of her old stomping grounds, like Cheers, where everyone knows her name etc.

We got there after 11. I had been very excited to go and it was an alright time, but I think the ride out there and the first half of the ride back were more fun/eventful. I mean, life is about the journey after all. Ta-da! How many cliches will I pack into this baby? I have no idea. Only time will tell. Oh snap!

On the way there, Rori and Noel froze their asses off because Chelsea insists on keeping her window cracked/smoking a cigarette the whole time we were driving. AND she leaves the wipers on. It's sort of her trademark. It always makes me happy though, when we get into her car and then the wipers are on and squeaking across the windshield, just like in the movies. Love it.

We listened to her mix CD on the way there and it was good. She had a little bit of everything. The grand finale was a little ditty you may recall from a few years back, "Mmmbop". Yes.

It was so good. You have no idea. We knew most of the words and Chelsea kept giving me shit because I was poised for the bridge (my fav part of every song) basically from the beginning of the song. This was me:

ME: (leaning forward hands poised in the air) Ok, ready? -or- Here we go...
CHELSEA: Not yet! Damn...

I was really excited.

Gilda's was alright. Chelsea schmoozed and I wandered and drank jack on the rocks, even though I asked for a jack & coke. They poured their drinks so strong, it was ridiculous. But they were cheap too, so it was great/a little too much. I wanted something fruity, so I had something they called a Hurricane. It was delicious. Rori thought it was gross. We agreed to disagree.

Some random girls pushed Chelsea's friend Lindsey over the bathroom stall wall and then threw water on her. I stood in the doorway with my full bladder and was just thankful that nothing like that has ever happened to me before. I mean, I HAVE climbed into a garbage can more than once, but that's not nearly as scary and being hoisted up and then sprayed with water. PS: i hate heights. DO NOT try and do that to me or I will straight up kill you.

We left around two and drove through the storm of the century. It took us 3 1/2 hours to get home. I drove the whole way, pausing briefly to argue with Chelsea and countless other times for food, bathroom breaks and puke breaks (not for me). It was the longest drive of my life. For most of the trip, I couldn't see anything out the windows. I drove 25mph almost the whole way home, which is why it took so damn long.

By the time we made it back to Detroit I wanted to murder my friends and vowed to never go on another excursion with Chelsea without checking the weather first. I was so tired, but wound up from the terrifying drive home, that I couldn't sleep. Again.

I finished listening to Kelly on 96.3 and then laid down and tried to fall asleep. Kelly is effing sweet on the radio, ps. I requested a song on air for her and would've done another, but I was so flaming angry that I thought I might kill someone even though my whole goal that night was to save everyone's lives by being awake/responsible.

I'm gonna skip sunday because it was so long and stupid and I was tired and cold and hungry for most of it.

MONDAY!

On my first day back to work, I walked in the door and my boss grabbed me and said they were cutting back and he hated to have to do it, but they were gonna have to let me go.

I got laid off. Awesome.

Now I am homeless and jobless. But...

I have taken two things away from this, the worst week of my life:

1. I am happy to be alive and having a shitty week. It is much better than the alternative.

2. I have an extraordinary group of people who love me, family, friends, etc. and they're offered more than their share to me during this trying time.

And you know, because of those two things, I know that I'm gonna be alright. I still have air in my lungs and I have today and the day after that and probably the day after that too and that's pretty fantastic.

I'll figure the rest of it out. For now, I'm just really grateful and overwhelmed and tired and loved.

To anyone who has even offered to help in any way shape and form: Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I will thank you all personally, of course. I just want you to know that you've gotten me through this week and probably the week after that and I thank you.

I may or may not continue the post I referenced earlier, the stoop series. I might need a little time to remove myself from everything before I'll be able to go back and examine everything. I wanna let the proverbial smoke settle, because the real smoke has already settled.

And hopefully, this next week won't suck so bad so I'll be able to write my next entry about something really funny instead of depressing. [update: the week has sucked hardcore. but here's hoping for this next week. Cross your fingers!]

Thanks for reading, and giving a shit.

Much love.

The Hallway winter 2006

The Hallway feb 2008

The livingroom winter 2006

the livingroom jan 2008

the livingroom feb 2008

more livingroom winter 2006

more livingroom jan 2008

the kitchen 2006

the kitchen feb 2008

more kitchen winter 2006

more kitchen feb 2007

inside hallway winter 2006

inside hallway feb 2008

bathroom winter 2006

bathroom winter feb 2008

Good times.

i dreamt of a fever, one that cure me of this cold winter set heart

2008-01-28T17:38:00.002-05:00

"Can we listen to some music?" Rori asked me as we were getting ready on sunday afternoon. I walked over to the computer.

"Not Britney Spears," she added.

Dammit.

I may or may not be listening to her new CD a lot. And say what you will about her (I think she needs professional help, i feel sad a little bit/a lot when I think about how sick she really is--in the head and whatnot), but that new CD of hers in fantastic. I love it, start to finish.

And I've got to tell you, I was surprised as hell that I like it so much. I've never liked any of her other CD's all the way through before.

So, Heath Ledger died last week. I mean, WTF? Who saw that one coming? Not me. I'm not gonna say a lot about it cause I feel like everyone and their mother has addressed the topic since the news first broke less than an hour after it happened. I know because I've read all of it.

But you know, it just really, really sucks. Very sad.

The silver lining is that he was able to complete this before his untimely passing:

I am wicked excited to see what will be his last completed performance.

So, I haven't written in at least a week and it is by no means attributed to inactivity, except sort of. Basically.

They have this show on A & E called "Intervention". I love this show. And I loved it a whole lot more before I sort of had one of my own. Apparently I have a bit of a problem with being reckless, drinking/partying too much, I'm not on quite the right track with school and a bevy of other things. The only thing I've been really good about lately, is keeping it in my pants, proverbially speaking of course. But I've failed at just about everything else.

So, I'm going through a lot of changes right now, feeling very foggy, restless, sleepless, that sort of thing. It'll pass for sure. And it's all entirely my fault, so don't think I'm seeking out any sort of compassion or pity. I'm just trying to explain my absence and explain any changes you might notice taking place.

I guess it's time to grow up a bit. Not too much, but a healthy amount is in order I think. There will be a little less of this:

And a lot more of this:

You really should check out the show Intervention. It's awesome. My favorite one was this girl who had this addiction to speedballing. She was in really deep and her dad kept fueling. AND she had an eating disorder just like her mother who was convinced that she did not have an eating disorder, even though she totally did.

It was a really good episode. That show really shakes you up, gives you a reality check. And there's an extra special kind of reality check when you are the subject of one. Thank god it wasn't on TV. That would've sucked balls. For real.

Here's another kind of Intervention. Arcade Fire, to be specific:

Now that I've gotten all of that other obligatory exposition out of the way I would like to move on to bigger and better/happier things.

1. There is a band. Will post pics/updates later. But beautiful music is being made and might find its way to your ears sometime in the near future.

2. This weather is ridiculous.

We've gotten a really decent amount of snow this winter, and not counting today, we've had pretty steady temps. I kind of feel like a meteorologist right now. But srsly, we all like our winters to be like this:

And they end up being a little more like this:

I have lived in Michigan my whole life (sad but true) and I feel like half of the population still has no idea what they're doing behind the wheel of a vehicle. I mean, essentially, a car is a killing machine. You sort of barrel on down the road going pretty effing fast (if you're anything like me), and really, you could kill yourself and/or someone else if something unexpected like a torrential downpour or something.

I feel like people panic, especially with heavy rain or any amount of snow. They slam on the brakes like morons and cause accidents, spilled beverages, further panic and a deeper seeded hatred of driving under these conditions.

One morning before I braved the treachery that was my drive to work, I paid a bum $5 to shovel me out of my spot. My car was blocked in by a shit ton of snow. There were at least 4 feet of snow completely encasing my vehicle. I walked out there with my hot chocolate and grilled cheese (breakfast of champions, ps) in hand and my jaw dropped. I was all, "what the hell? how the fuck am i gonna get out of there."

Lo and behold, this bum comes jogging up from further down the street wearing a smorgishbord of clothes (members only jacket, knit (?) vest, hoodie, snow pants (?), jeans, sweatpants, sneakers, a knit cap and mismatched gloves). He looked like he just walked off stage as a member of the chorus from RENT. "Christmas bells are ring-ing, Christmas bells are ring-ing. how time flies."

Anyway, he shoveled me out and offered to brush my car off for an extra dollar even though I was halfway done already.

I still got to work late, but it was all good.

3. The L Word is trucking along and rocking my world. And I think I can really relate to Bette right now. Not me right now, but me a while ago. No time specification necessary. Suffice as to say, I get her. Also, she is smoking hot. You know who else is? Helena? Where is she? Probs with Papi.

4. I lost heat in my apt. the weekend before last and wanted to kill father time and mother earth and whoever thought it would be a great idea to still heat things with a boiler. Damn it was cold in my apt. Not quite as cold as it was when the heat went out last winter and Eric and I thought that maybe it was a sign of the apocalypse or something. We sat huddled around our space heaters and watched the time drag on.

This time wasn't so bad. Still really fucking cold, but it only lasted a couple of days and I am pleased to report that my apt. is back to sweltering heat. Chelsea has described it as "hot as balls" on countless occasions and I'd have to agree.

But you know, I don't mind the heat. First of all, I am half Mexican and so I think probs my genetics dictate me requiring copious amounts of heat and also, it is really fucking cold outside. I'd rather be really hot than freezing my ass off. And I think most people would agree. Maybe even Chelsea.

5. My iPod died.

I don't know why I put this in with other stuff that is supposed to be not shitty. But whatevs. My iPod broke and I am devastated. I stared at it forever and felt like I might cry, but I didn't.

Life post iPod is very different from life pre-iPod. And I swear to you I was so grateful during the iPod years (circa 2003-2008). They were great years. I had a couple iPods and loved them unconditionally and in their own special ways. My newest one died of what I believe to be anything other than natural causes, unless you count carelessness as "natural".

My phone must've cracked the screen on accident when it was hanging out in my pocket waiting to rock my world. Now the screen looks like it's fading away from a terminal illness. Poor Oscar. Such a wonderful little iPod. Was totally my favorite thing I owned.

It's weird that I'm speaking in the past tense as if I buried the damn thing in the alley. But the truth is, I'm still carrying it around in my bag like it might come back top life when I least expect it, by way of an iPod fairy or the miracle of prayer or a shooting star. Something, dammit. Something.

These are difficult times, the days we are living in. First the war, the economy, and now this. I am simply beside myself.

I've resorted to carrying around a discman. Until this very moment, I cannot recall the last time I even thought about a "discman", let alone wrote about it. I carry around a case full of CDS i feel like I can't live without right now. It contains the following:

Radiohead
As Tall As Lions
AC/DC
Led Zeppelin
Fiona Apple
The Shins
The Marie Antoinette soundtrack
Colplay
Fall Out Boy
Kelly Clarkson
a few assorted mixes
Lovedrug
Motion City Soundtrack
Elliott Smith

and a couple others I can't remember right now, but seemed really important this morning when I put them in my bag. And you can say what you will about my musical selection. I will defend them all until the death. So whatevs. I forgot about Britney Spears! I totally have her new CD in there too. I've been listening to that a lot. I think I mentioned that before.

6. Most everything else is the same. I don't wanna jinx anything, but you know, things are ok. I think I've finally figured out how the whole relationship thing, or at least, I think I've figured out how to make it work for me personally. Things are good.

My heart and my head are in a good place.

holy fucking shit, no one cares

2008-01-16T20:28:00.001-05:00

I don't think I am ever going to get to a point in my life where I will understand why strangers feel the need to vent their problems to other strangers knowing full well that they're just wasting the other person's time. I know that might seem ridiculous coming from someone who keeps a blog, but I would like to think that it's a little bit different. Case in point:

I work at a law firm. I believe I have mentioned this on at least one occasion. As a whole, the job is average. It's a lot like most other jobs; some days you have a really good time and other days you want to throw yourself in front of a speeding bus. Today feels a lot like the latter.

Part of my job involves answering the phones when they ring. I work the late shift, so after 6-ish pm, all of our other offices forward their phones and I intercept all of their calls. Now, you might ask yourself why someone would call a law firm after 5pm. I'm not sure. The best I can reason is that maybe people are hoping to get the voicemail and then a call back the following day. But who knows? I am convinced that a large percentage of middle aged and elderly middle Americans love to hear the sound of their own voice.

I just got off the phone with a woman calling for the Illinois office. I gave her my little speech, "their phones are forwarded, blah blah blah, if you want I can email him the message blah blah blah."

She responded very slowly, "Oh....so they don't have voicemail?"

"No."

"Really? Well that's strange. So, no voicemail then?"

"That's correct."

"Well you see, I have a very bad head cold and I'm calling in regards to a settlement offer. Will you please tell him [coughs, but very forced and hallow sounding] Excuse me. I have a terrible head cold. If the settlement offer doesn't at least meet what I have requested then I am not interested."

"Ok. I'll give him that message. Thanks."

"I mean, why should I be expected to take $1,000 when the repairs alone will cost me double. And, you know, with this head cold, I'm very distressed. That's just not right, you know? It should be at least $1,000. Don't you think so?"

[silence] and then, "um...i don't really know. But i'll pass that message along."

"Ok. Good. Thank you. Like I said before, I have a terrible head cold and I might not even be accepting telephone calls tomorrow. I mean, it just goes right through my head. You know?"

[head explodes]

"Anyway, thank you for your time."

Oh. My. Fucking. God. Why??? Why does anyone think that people care anymore? I know I don't and I don't expect anyone else to care, except maybe close friends and people related to me by blood.

I consider myself a pretty liberal person, but somewhere along the way, the PC-ing of America has led everyone to believe that they are special. And I mean, I'm sure you're special to someone, but you're not special to me. You're wasting my time and yours because I'm just gonna scream after I slam the phone down. I don't want to hear about your head cold. I don't care. Just give me the message and I will relay it, but I am not going to empathise with you because I don't make enough to give a shit about hundreds of random strangers everyday.

Just now, I tried to do the math in my head, and I talk to at least 100 people everyday and most of them I talk to for the very first time. How can anyone expect me to care? That's just ridiculous. I'm not the pope. I'm not running for president and I am certainly not running for Jesus. So, please, random people who call anyone, encounter anyone in the service industry:

STOP UNLOADING YOUR STUPID FUCKING PROBLEMS ON STRANGERS. IT'S RUDE AND REALLY ANNOYING. SAVE IT FOR YOUR PRIEST/THERAPIST/HOOKER. STOP KIDDING YOURSELVES. MOST PEOPLE DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT ANYTHING PAST THEIR OWN NOSES. THE SOONER YOU GET USED TO IT, THE BETTER.

[exhale] Wow. I'm glad I got that off my chest. Please, feel free to comment/vent your similar experiences. Let it out. This time, someone does care. Until I post again, and then all bets are off. Aaaaannndd.....go.

we've got eyes that leave us in places we don't see.

2008-01-11T17:01:00.002-05:00

My eyeballs hurt.

I cannot find my glasses anywhere and it's driving me nuts because I can't read without practically touching my eyeballs to the words. I have a wicked headache and I wish to god, or allah, or whomever, that I would not have misplaced them last night/this morning.

Don't ask me why I'm writing right now. It just felt right, I think. My bosses have been dicks today.

Have you ever worked at a law firm? Yeah. Don't. ">Lawyers are assholes. Every single one I have ever encountered in my life possesses a bottomless well of asshole potential. Some of the attorneys here are all potential assholes. But the partners, they are all kinetic about that shit. They've made people cry before.

Me, I refuse to let my superiors make me cry. I've come close before with crazy customers when I used to work in retail. But I have never given anyone the satisfaction of witnessing me shed a tear at work. No ma'am. I refuse.

But today, they really tested my patience. The partners here and most of the people that have called in today have been royal assholes. I know that today is friday, but it def feels like a monday. So, you know, TGIF everybody! and what-have-you.

Also, I think Phil Collins is one of the worst things that ever happened to music, except maybe Michael Bolton, who I also loathe. I don't care if Phil Collins does appear on Chelsea's iPod, that man's voice makes me wanna punch babies.

Phil Collins: I don't like your music. Also, radio stations: please try and keep it to one Phil Collins song a day. It would be greatly appreciated. Thanks.

Can we talk about Facebook for a hot second?

Where, sweet Jesus, did all of those fucking applications come from. Right now, as I'm typing this, I have 20+ application "requests" on my account. I have saved them all so I could keep track of how ridiculous they are and also to discuss them here.

There are as follows:

Which swear word are you?
Slayer
Hot or Not
Friend for Sale (4 of these)
One Track (i have no fucking clue what this one even means)
PetrolHead (wtf? srsly.)
Hotness
Human Pets
Oregon Trail (4 of these too! Do i look like my cousin James 12 years ago?)
Rockstar Cars
Bumper Sticker
Secret Admirer
My Heroes Ability
Snowball Fight!
Speed Racer
What Blood Type Are You? (i have this info on my donor card, which i have misplaced)
Make A Baby

Seriously. Facebook applications creators? W? T? F? Why have you created 8,000 of applications so my friends and sort of friends can send me invites ad nauseum? Totally unnecessary and ridiculous. I don't understand any of it.

I can say without shame that I use a few applications. I all kinds of love Growing Gifts and Naughty Gifts were fun for like, a couple weeks. But, do I want to be a zombie or a pirate or a werewolf? No. Guys, the answer is no. I want to email my friends and tag the shit out of them in photos and that's about it.

Facebook used to be my favorite thing ever and now it's just really pissing me off. It almost makes me as crazy as myspace sometimes does. I mean, I feel crazy when I think to myself, "maybe I'll check myspace first cause if I read one more application request my head might explode."

That's bad, guys. Facebook used to be the place to go when you wanted to get a nice list of specific interests, common friends and photo albums. Now it is almost my least favorite thing ever. I used to love leaving my friends little notes and jokes and sarcastic remarks on their "walls". But those days are long gone. I just can't bare to wade through 30 applications, scrolling what feels like an eternity to get to an "advanced wall" (WTF is that about, ps) and STILL not make it to their goddamn wall! It's just fucking stupid. And I hate it. I hate the applications. I think I'm going to get rid of all of the ones that I have.

Yep. I said it. Goodbye applications.

Sorry. I just had to get that Facebook shit off my chest. You know what I'm really loving right now? Sara Bareilles. Her CD is really good. I've been listening to it a lot this entire week. If you haven't, check it out.

There's an official video for the song and it's weird and retarded and really kind of lame. But then there's this other video that's of her and her guitarist playing it live in a little studio or something. That one is way better.

Also. I was on OurChart.com, because it's ours and what have you. I came upon a video of the premiere. It's pretty typical with the red carpet and whatever. But, if you make it to the end of the video you will come upon a sight that made me LOL like whoa. Kate Moennig is sitting in a booth with her arm on the back sitting next to, none other than Paris fucking Hilton. (????) I was all, "whaaaaa?" Clearly, she was looking very Shane that day, I mean night.

Yeah. I don't know how I feel about it, as if it even matters. But, you know, discuss is amongst yourselves. And watch it here.

I'll leave you with this:

Lush. [my "L" word]

2008-01-07T15:41:00.003-05:00

Last sunday night was the L word premiere.

Let me tell you how long I've been waiting to say that. Like most of my friends, I already saw the TV-14 version of the episode last weekend on OurChart. And let me just say that I la-la-loved it. Sweet Jesus. Well done, guys. And by guys, I mean Angela Robinson because she is the greatest thing that has ever happened to that show. Everytime I see her name in the opening credits my heart skips a beat. I am madly in love with everything she's done for that show.

Here's to you, [Ms.] Robinson! You are awesome.

Unfortunately I don't have any pictures from the viewing, when we were at 9 in Ferndale, which, ps, was a blast.

But we DID get some photos at Soho. Here's the gang from the night.

We had so much fun. The night became so much more than The L Word, mostly because we drank so much alcohol...

Oh man that night was fun. Ask anyone who was there. It was packed, but not stupid packed like last year. Last year made me wanna punch babies; it was so crowded and loud I thought I might scream. But then, no one would've heard me and so, it would've been a waste of time.

But this year! This year, there were tons of lesbians and they were all classy, using their inside voices and what not during the screening except for whenever Helena or Tasha would enter the frame. Then, they would go ape shit and scream and holla! for how incredibly hot they are.

See what I mean? For the most part though, the ladies were quiet. We sipped the first of countless drinks the first few hours while we were at 9.

And then... we went to Soho.

Chelsea did karaoke and I helped by interrupting midway through the song to make her pose for a picture. I'm a really supportive friend. Also, I only kind of remember that picture being taken.

The night felt really super long. You know how when you were in high school and you would smoke pot with your friends and then wander around, first to the movie theatre. The journey across the parking lot would take so long that your high would set in all the way, preventing you from ever actually buying a ticket and sitting in a theatre because you were too busy trying to stand still and be part of a conversation at the same time in the lobby. Then you decided Wendy's would be a good idea since you were sooooo hungry. You crossed the endless parking lot, got into the car, drove to Wendy's, ordered your food, waited what felt like 5 hours for the food to make it onto your tray and then ate it. Then, you got back into the car and drove to Baskin Robbins cause you wanted something sweet, paused to tie your shoe for what felt like another 5 hours because you could not for the life of you find one of the laces. Got the ice cream and got back into the car, only to realize that roughly 45 minutes had passed since you arrived at the movie theatre.

Yeah, It was kind of like that.

For instance, when I saw this picture the next day:

I was really confused. I could've sworn that I was with Chelsea when she bought those cigarettes because they're a different kind and I remembered her being really impressed when the clerk gave them to her. She asked for Cherry's and he said, "Have you tried these?"

And she made this face:

and then bought the fancy new cloves. But I could not for the life of me, remember when that happened. And then I was like, oh yeah, that was the same night.

Very long night.

At some point the following things happened and were then documented in photographs:

I thought it would be cool for Rori to sit on two chairs at the same time.

I danced with Vince. A lot.:

Celia and Chelsea "danced":

I danced like a spaz with Chelsea and a couple of pool sticks to Kelly Clarkson:

Made Chelsea hug me a million times. This is her account:

"Dude, I knew you were fuckin wasted when you kept going 'bring it in. c'mon, bring it in for the real thing.' and then you'd hug me. [laughs] You made me hug you like ten million times. Dude, you were shitty, shitty drunk."

My response: "Good times."

I honestly cannot remember a good portion of the night. If I had to make a rough estimate, I would say that I cannot remember any solid/vague details from the last 2-3 hours of the night. And that might even be a conservative guess. Again, I have no idea. I just kind of tried to guess by the photographs and what everyone else said.

At some point, we left the bar and I was partially, if not entirely responsible for the following:

I had a thing for the street lamps:

And a thing for pretending to pee on things:

We took such a long time "finding the car" that Chelsea and I stopped for a cigarette break.

I'm pretty sure that Rori wanted to light me on fire. I kept harassing her into taking picture after picture. But really, can you blame me? There are some pretty good ones in there.

After we went back to my apt. I thought it wouldbe a great idea to wake up JP who was sound asleep. But really, it's just because I love JP so much and I wanted to say 'hello'. Apparantly, I woke her up by dancing around in the spare room all by myself, no music, no lights. Just me dancing, and her waking to what must have been the most ridiculous sight ever. Why? Why was I dancing? I have no effing clue. But it probs seemed like a great idea at the time.

Once she opened her eyes I got really close to her and started to apologize, "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I wake you up?"

"Um...yeah creeper. You did."

"Sorry. I am sooooo drunk."

"I can see that."

I love JP. :D

Rori says I passed out with a plate of pasta on my bed/self. And you know what? I totally believe her because I woke up the next morning and I was all, "huh? what? is it daytime? do i really have to be to work in 2 hours?"

I didn't get sick, but I did have a massive headache. But it was completely worth it. I am so glad that the L word sundays are back in my life.

this scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin

2008-01-04T17:04:00.001-05:00

My head has been spinning this past week. Just spinning and spinning in a fog that may or may not leave in the forseeable future. I'm trying to sort through a number of things, but really just one thing. It's just that, that one thing opens a proverbial flood gate and then I'm spinning/drowning again.

So, here's the thing...

No. Wait. Let me back up.

When I was a freshman in high school, my mother bought the first computer we ever owned. It was one of those very colorful macs that came out while we were partying like it was 1999. Probs cause it was 1999. The mac was purple, like candy. We got AOL. Do you remember AOL? I do. Anytime I hear of someone still having AOL I think to myself, why? Why would you still want AOL?

Anyway, my mom instructed us on the dangers of the interent. There are creep ass grown men who will use this magical thing called the interweb to pretend to be young girls/boys to lure us like the witch did with candy. Except, they'll use acronyms instead of candy. But the computers all look like candy because this is America. So, you know, whatevs. Hello New Millenium! That's what we were told.

The internet really did kind of scare the shit out of me then. So my mother's plan worked. I def did not give out personal information. In fact, I lied a lot. Told people in chat rooms (remember those?) I was older/younger all of the time. I don't think i was ever honest. Ever. It was easy. Through the magic of the interweb, some wires and floating molecules, like in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, I could be whoever I wanted to be and no one would know the difference.

About a year ago I met a friend through a friend. We'll call him Adam. Cause God picked that first and what have you. It's a good name. So, I met Adam through a friend I had already known for years. We will call friend "B" Cain. Cause that's what Adam named the son he had that did a very bad thing and set a whole mess of shit into motion. He was the shifty son, if you will.

(Has anyone noticed how much I've mentioned the B-I-B-L-E in the last paragraph? Who's proud that I retained all that and that the computer did not light on fire when I wrote it? Yep.)

So I met Adam, sort of. Followed his band and Cain to LA, proverbially of course. I followed on my end of the telephone and the interweb sitting in my two bedroom Detroit apt. typetypetyping "love the new songs guys" etc. etc. etc.

A lot of shit went down in LA. I heard about all of it in great detail. Sat in the same apt. wishing them well, hoping it would all turn out alright. I listened to Cain; I was his shoulder. He listened to me; he was my shoulder. We laughed. We cried. It was better than CATS. We have weathered many storms in this past year alone and I never, ever thought it would end the way it did.

My head started spinning about a week ago.

I was in Rori's apt waiting while she did her hair. Music was spilling from her iPod, trying and failing to drown out the sounds of the most annoying cat that has ever lived. The music swelled and I started to feel a little down.

You see, Adam died about a month ago and the lead singer pleading from her iPod reminded me a hell of a lot of Adam. I was very sad the week after I learned he passed. In fact, I wrote about it here, on the interweb.

The spinning, the drowning started right.....there.

I was instantly reminded of an email Val sent me, warning me of a discovery that I would make if I did a little research. "Search [redacted] on iTunes. You're not gonna be happy." That's what she sent me. I did not heed her warning. Truth is, I wasn't near my own computer and completely forgot about it.

Until I was standing over the iPod staring at a playlist that was more than a little familiar. It was all a lie. Adam, the band, the friendship, LA, the record deal, the music, the stories, oh the countless stories. They were all fucking lies, fabricated by Cain, the boy I used to regard as a brother.

Spinning. Spinning. Spinning.

I sat on it for days, not knowing what I wanted to do with it. Why? I thought. Why the fuck would someone do that? And then I didn't want to know. Because the ends have certainly not justified the means.

There's no feeling quite like learning that you mourned the death of a person that never really existed. They may have existed on some level, but certainly not on the level that I was led to believe. I felt stupid and then I felt angry. And now I feel nothing, except maybe confused.

It's all so very surreal, the thing that dreams, or rather nightmares, are made of. Cheesy music videos and poorly written films end the way this friendship feel like it has. "It was all just a figment of your/his imagination." That's basically what it feels like. But it's not. This reality, or hyper-reality, or interweb-reality, or god knows what. It's real. It happened.

The lies were epic, legendary, if perhaps something would've been gained from all of the effort. Instead, a lot was lost, friendships were shattered, trust: a thing of the past.

I'll tell you what, I have told some pretty crazy lies in my day. But this, this is way beyond me. I don't know that I'll ever understand it. I don't think that's possible.

So, really, here I am. Mourning the death of another friend who was actually the same friend. Whether or not he actually goes through with it this time is completely irrelevant. Because it's over.

the future freaks me out.

2007-12-31T18:37:00.002-05:00

This blog is going to be a two parter. But both parts will come at once. Does that make sense? Oh well.

PART ONE: 2007 [the amendment]

It has been brought to my attention that I may or may not have left some important people and places in my last entry. You know the one about 2007 sucking?

Although some things sucked pretty hardcore this year, there were some really great things. In no particular order:

Kat and I grew exponentially closer and a beautiful friendship has blossomed. She's moving in a matter of days and that makes me all sorts of sad. But, you know, c'est la vie and all that jazz. We've had a spectacular year together. She's one of my favorite photo companions who taught me the true importance of keeping your verb fresh. Observe.

That was a good night. We ran around my building at maybe 2am doing a photo opp. We more or less forced Jessy to take pictures of us. She was tired and wanted to kill us every time we asked for another shot. But the end results are worth it I think.

Jarvis was there too. We had a blast. So, yeah, that was a good time. Thank you Kat, Jarvis, Jessy, sweet ass old apartment building.

I also forgot to mention in the last post about how my life changed on September 14th. That's the day I met JP. The clouds parted and the sunlight came bursting through, etc. etc.

Seriously though, we clicked immediately and have become fast [best] friends. You may or may not have noticed the other times I've mentioned her as being "awesome".

I am so very grateful for all of the amazing friends I have in my life. I am a very lucky girl.

P.S. JP is amazing!

I could really go on and on about how amazing my friends are, but I'd really like to break it up into maybe different segments over the course of different posts. I don't know, I'm just thinking out loud.

P.S. I have an amazing family too. I just wanna mention that. I will most def try and elaborate on that sometime soon as well. Maybe I'll make a collage of all the people who have changed my life for the better. If you know me at all you know I am full of empty promises, so don't hold your breath or anything. Just know that if you are reading this you are probably loved very much by yours truly and I thank you kindly for your time and patience and for being in my life.

Phew.

What I really wanna do is get to the next part, because it's so fun.

WAIT! One more thing. This is still one of my favorite things. Also, I am very aware of the fact that I over use that phrase. That also includes the following: Holla!, [fill in the blank, usually food] is changing my life right now, are you serious?, cunt bag, douchetard, i know, right?...etc.

Anyway, this is great. You've probs already seen it before though.

PART TWO: Since we're coming up on 2008 here, why the hell can't I take a jet pack to work?

Remember The Jetsons?

That show was awesome. After a little research I discovered that the show was supposed to take place in a few different time periods. It has a lot to do with the fact that the creators and producers were a little sketchy on details, even back in the 60's. Regardless, one of the time periods places The Jetsons in the present.

Clearly, our lives are nothing like that show. Sometimes, I wish they were. There are times, almost daily, when I wish I could just push a button and my breakfast would appear, or that I could brush my teeth and comb my hair at the same time without using either of my hands. That would be awesome.

Here are some things we assumed we'd have by now, but will most definfitely not have in 2008:

JET PACKS

Did you ever see The Rocketeer? Well I did. That movie was the shit.

I haven't seen the movie in a really long time, but I remember it being awesome. And my memory is always 100% accurate, so, I mean...obvs. Yes. It is/was awesome.

Since I began this entry which was literally days and days ago, I have wanted to watch that movie. But I can't find it anywhere! And when I say that, I actually mean that I have not even made an attempt. I'm just assuming that I won't find it since the movie was made in 1991 and Karma and I have a sort of love/hate relationship going at all times. So, you know, I'm just gonna assume that it will be impossible to find.

But for real, how amazing would it be to have a jet pack? I mean, asside for the up front risks of using it improperly or losing control and then crashing and maybe even dying. So, there's always that. But really, how hard could a jet pack be? Although now that I'm putting somewhat serious thought into this, I'd probs be terrified and it would just collect dust in my apt, which wouldn't be hard because I have hard wood floors.

But, in all seriousness, getting picked up, as in, hoisted into the air by another person is by far, one of my least favorite things. Ever. I hate it. I am always terrified that the person will drop me. Jarvis has threatened to pick me up on numerous occasions and I immediately grew terrified. He settled for chasing me around my apt building one time. Which, btw, is another one of my least favorite things. I hate being chased. It is terrifying and creepy and I really, really hate it.

Anyway, I imagine jet packs to feel much like being picked up, only, you know, faster and what not. So, maybe I wouldn't like it so much. But think of all the time I would save, how much more time I could devote to wasting time. It would be awesome. And that's why I'm pissed that we don't have those.

You know what else I wish we had?

HOVER BOARDS

Remember Back To The Future? Me too. That movie was also pretty fantastic. Hover Boards were like skateboards with no wheels. If you don't remember, go check it out. And by "it", I mean the movie. Actually, watch all of them.

Now, I don't even like skate boarding. Probs cause I suck at it. But, I feel that I would catch on much quicker with a Hover Board. Who wouldn't? I mean, we're in the future. Things that deal with "hovering" should come naturally, like space travel...

SPACE TRAVEL, AS IN, VACATION

Lost In Space was the shit.

I wasn't alive when it originally aired, but I have seen re-runs and the movie they made in the 90's was alright. Lacey Chabert is cute. See:

Cute.

Anyway, back to the future [i mean, now]. Back in the 50's and 60's everyone thought by now we would be doing the following things:

WEARING SILVER--ALWAYS

Hot, ps.

IN OUTER SPACE--LIKE, AS IN, A JOB OR VACATION, BASICALLY

and HAVING ROBOTS AS FAITHFUL SERVANTS--AND ALSO AS SIDEKICKS WITH DRY HUMORS

Why don't we effing have this stuff yet? I want to have a robot do stuff for me. AND I want a machine to brush my teeth, style my hair and scratch my ass all at the same time, freeing up my hands for, i dunno, making an omlette, or playing the guitar. No, wait, maybe I want a sandwich instead.

The point is, I really think the scientists (do we still have those?) need to get cracking on all this crap. I mean, seriously. I want a robot. I want it more than I wanted a talking mouse growing up. And yes, I wanted a talking mouse really, really bad once upon a time/still kind of want one now.

Imagine all of the things I could do if I didn't have to worry about wasting time devoting myself to one tedious activity at a time? I could write more for this blog and more frequently if I didn't lose at least 1-2 hours of my time to mundane daily activities like showering, dressing and preparing food.

Also, space travel would be loads of fun. I mean, I'm not the biggest fan of wearing the same silver outfit every day, but I'm willing to compromise. I would also like more gadgets with different buttons that light up.

You know, now that I'm thinking about, I think that my current obsession with all of this crap stems from one thing: I always wanted a pair of those L.A. Gear shows and never got 'em. You know, the ones that light up with every step? Yeah, those. I wanted pink ones.

2008: Hello. Hi. Please don't suck like last year.

2007-12-19T17:31:00.003-05:00

It has been seven days since my last post. Since then, I have drafted and then adandoned at least half a dozen attempts. I am just that cool.

Right now I am very, very tired. I haven't slept much these past few days. Dyke drama is ridic., especially around the holidays, I'm thinking. Maybe? Yes? Probs def yes.

This video has been my favorite thing this week, and maybe my favorite online video ever. It's less than 30 seconds and I LOLed so hard at this thing that I couldn't breath. There really are no words...

Oh, and then, there's this instant classic that I re-watched maybe four times with Frank after watching it at work with Kaitlyn at least three times.

Priceless.

Well, I kind of feel like I'm recapping stuff from the news right now, but this crap is so awesome, I just have to share it. With this next bit, it's not so bad since the story involves people I actually know like, you know, me and Kaitlyn.

Apparantly Jamie-Lynn Spears is pregnant. I know this, because everyone else on this entire planet knows this, so it's my turn now. That's how these things work. I don't have TV, so i rely on most of my friends to filter through all the info that I might want to know. I sometimes check news sites, but those are just filtered in a different way anyhow. So it doesn't really make a difference anyway.

SO...

She's pregnant. Kaitlyn and I went online to investigate because we were bored at work and there's only so many times you can watch either of the videos from above before they lose their brilliance.

So, we looked up Ms. Spears and the tool that knocked her up.

Kaitlyn and I got a good laugh about the whole thing, especially when we tried imagining what might have transpired between little Jamie-Lynn and her proud mother. It said somewhere that she told her mom via a handwritten note that she handed her. We think it looked a little something like this:

Moving on...

I am currently enjoying a peanut butter & jelly & frito's sandwich on wheat bread. Yum! It is approximately the 7,842nd sandwich I've had like that this week. Clearly, I am on a kick. Jean (this woman I work with) said that my sandwich reminds her of something you'd eat in prison, even though she's never been to prison and never tried the sandwich. It's totally delicious, ps.

So, Christmas is seriously less than a week away and I am totally unprepared. I know I've said that in many years past, but this time I really, really mean it. I haven't even thought about what I'm doing present-wise.

Atcually, that's a bit of an exaggeration. (Shocker!) I thought about what I'll make for presents when I was on my lunch break today while I talked to JP (holla!) on the phone and hunted for an art store.

PS: There are NO art stores in garden city. Probs cause there's just an Arby's. And this office.

So, I totally know what I'm making for everyone. And by everyone, I mean some of my family and a few friends who have already gotten me something. I would prefer to take everyone out to the bar and then buy a round of shots, but not everyone drinks. I mean, why wouldn't you? But whatevs. Moving on...or rather, back.

I plan on getting maybe ONE present done before Christmas cause that's how I roll. I wait until the last second and then take on way more than I can handle, thus leaving me empty-handed when said holiday/birthday/anniversary rolls around.

Basically, I am a total loser when it comes to presents. And ya wanna know why? Because I have mastered the art (and I don't use either of those terms lightly) of doing nothing while still both appearing and feeling incredibly busy. I have no idea how I got so good at it because my parents are the exact opposite. My mother had her PDA implanted into her skull and my father is prone to taking on elaborate tasks like his garden, any meal, decorating for Halloween and baking cookies. They both find ways to finish everything in a resonable amount of time and always, always, always, at the very least, complete their tasks.

Me? I will say something like, "I'll see you in an hour, I'm just gonna take a quick shower." That statement is always met with eye rolling and replies like, "Yeah, okay. I guess I'll see you later tonight? Tomorrow? Maybe? Probably not."

And the thing is, I have no idea why I suck so bad at getting my shit together. I really don't. And I have a sneaky suspision that working on this blog is not helping. Anyway, moving on...

I would now like to write and open letter to 2008, the year of the tiger. Maybe. I'm not sure. I just made that up. I don't do the whole zodiac thing.

Dear 2008,

Hello. Hi. Please don't suck like last year.

Now, I'm not saying that the year was on par with the shit sandwich that Bette endured in season 2, but it was not the greatest.

I started last year still a little cloudy from being worried all the time about my mom. And then I was a chicken shit. And then Eric left and my aunt died. But I got a tattoo that day, so it was interesting, the day of her funeral. That day I gave a reading that I wanted to back out of, but didnt and then cried and cried and cried.

Eric left and i cried some more. I tied up the ends of a ridiculous little non-affair, Jessy moved in. I began loathing the cat more than mustard and FOX News. Frank's whole world fell apart and I tried to be there, but it wasn't always easy. I did it and i'd do it again, but I was oh so very tired.

And so I drank and drank and drank and had classes that I sometimes went to and production meetings that I always attended with at least a near crippling hangover. I watched the L word at the bar and never finished an episode sober. I started smoking a lot more and therefore reading more David Sedaris on the stoop shivering in the cold, more coughing, more drinking.

I went out a lot. Painted a lot. Picked up the guitar. Frank got better. I missed Eric. Jessy and I grew a lot closer. Made a lot of new friends out in bars and clubs. Met a lot of girls. She whispered in my ear and we both embarassed ourselves and I just kept on pretending. There was a ball. Eric came and so did Jarvis.

Winter faded into spring and not much changed. Went to Menjo's more than once, which is way more times than anyone should ever go. Met some more girls. Drank. Smoked. Was late to everything a lot more than usual. Still worried. Still felt heartbroken and foolish. Made some more new friends.

The spring quickly turned to summer and the show was over; no more hungover production meetings, no more Kurtz (thank god), no more Aku (not so great). The summer was fantastic. I kept up with what I was doing. You know the story already: girls, cloves, jack & coke (with a lime), and so on and so forth.

Made a new friend that I quickly severed ties with because it cost me another friend. Still felt the same. Still did the same things. The faces changed, but, really, everything stayed the same.

And then as summer drew to a close I set into motion a series of events that still makes my head spin sometimes. The people and places and things that transpired are much to fresh and private. Suffice as to say, 2007, you sucked a little bit.

I mean, PRIDE was fun and I did enjoy the endless partying, but you also sent me some shit sandwiches.

So, 2008...

Please try and not suck so bad. I would really appreciate it.

They say that what doesn't kill us makes us who we are.

2007-12-12T18:31:00.001-05:00

Here's the thing: I have a zillion things I really want to do right now. Like, literally, my head is just about spinning with it all. Here's a short list of things I would like to do right now, simultaneously, but can't because I'm at work/it would be physically impossible:

1. write this blog
2. write a blog re: my trip to VA, part II of my chicago trip, a year in review, little updates from this week...
3. start maybe ten screenplays
4. play the guitar.
5. fiddle on a keyboard (hello Her Space Holiday/Motion City Sountrack!)
6. play the drums
7. rearrange my apt.
8. get my hair cut
9. drink hot chocolate
10. go to the bathroom

Ridiculous, I know. About the bathroom situation...I'm supposed to be glued to the phone/emails coming through at work right now. For instance, if I have to go to the bathroom, I usually leave the door open and don't turn on the light/fan, so I can hear if the phone rings. Yes, I pee in the dark at work. Holla!

But there are still two attorneys here in the office right now. Thus, preventing me from going to the bathroom with the door open/going to the bathroom at all, because I can't let them hear the phone ring while I'm all "tra-la-la...peeing with the light on/loud ass fan. phone? what phone? job? what job? hello. goodbye. thank you."

In short (too late, obvs), I have to pee like whoa right now. For anyone who doesn't know (approaching TMI territory, JP...), when I have to pee I get "the shivers". My friend Keighty gave a name to my strange condition when I was in high school (in Novi. Holla!). Basically, when I have to pee for more than maybe two minutes, I get the chills about every minute or so. But if i hold it for too long, they come in great waves every few seconds. My finger tips go numb and purple from being so effing cold and i start to, you guessed it: shiver. I have a mean case of the shivers right now. Like, whoa.

I should be able to take care of that one soon, I hope.

And actually, regarding #'s 8 & 9. I will take care of those in an hour or so when I meet Natalie at my mom's. She will cut my hair (finally) and we will both drink hot chocolate.

Still shivering... Like the Coldplay song "Shiver", only terrible.

Since I cannot even begin to approach any part of this list in the near future (i.e. tonight), I am going to pick an entirely new thing to want to do and do that instead, mainly because it is the only thing I am capable of doing right now, because I am still stuck at work (shivering).

This Time Last Year

December 2006: Casa de Homo

Last year during the month of December, I lived with Eric. It was fabulous. We got along really well as roommates. In fact, one of the first nights we were there together (after the honeymoon, obvs), he came hopping into my room in a pillow case and asked, "wanna race?"

Obvs, I fell madly in love with Eric, and that love only grows stronger every day.

We had a great time because Eric is silly and I have the potential, but will never do it on my own, unless provoked. So, kind of, it was a little bit like still living with Val, whenever she would get giggly and fart on me. (ps: love you, miss you again already!)

See what I mean about Eric being silly? This photograph dates back to early dec. of last year when I bought a baking station from Target (amazing, this baking station) and had to assemble it by myself. Eric refuses to assemble things. I don't even wanna get into that right now. Anyway, I am relatively handy, so it was more fun than anything else.

Eric sat in his room the whole time writing and when I was done, the first thing he did was put on the box like it was outfit. No mention of "wow, that looks great. nice job. you are the best lesbian wife a gay man could ever ask for." None of that. It was more like, "Rar! I'm a box monster!" He put some of the packaging in his eyes and called them "monster contacts" and then spent half an hour chasing the cat around.

See why I love Eric?

This is Eric's cat/my cat for a hot second. Her name is Squeakers and it is only by the grace of, god knows what, that Squeakers is still breathing/rubbing her vag on things. Gross. She only does it when she's in heat. But she's nearly perpetually in heat, so it feels like all the time if you live with it. We almost punched her in the vag maybe ten times. I know I thought about it all day long when she would wander around hovering close to everything, rubbing her vag scent on every. single. thing.

I still cannot believe I ever lived with that cat/kept her for a while when Eric was away living on a shelf for a gagillion dollars a month. I called him Nick Nack for a while.

Anyway, living with Eric was fantastic and I was all kinds of sad when he said he was leaving. But for now, without jumping into the next month, I would like to recall the short, but glorious time we spent together and savor it.

I'm remembering now, how he taught me how to play the styrofoam violin.

And then another time, he helped me cover Mandy in yamakas.

Good times. I'm gonna go pee now.

As we cover our heads and drink heavily into the night...

2007-12-06T20:26:00.003-05:00

Tra-la-la…sitting at work waiting for the phone to ring. Holla! So, my new job…

I work in a little fish bowl according to the guy from Jimmy John’s who brought us free samples last week. The job is pretty great, well the first half of my shift is. After everyone leaves time sort of stops and I refresh the screen maybe 8,000 times hoping for an email so I’ll have something to do. But sometimes the phone won’t ring for 40 minutes at a time and there’s only so much surfing I can do on the web/how many times I can check myspace, facebook and the blogs I read. Basically, I run out of shit to do. So, I’m guessing, this will mean that I will be doing a lot more writing.

Exciting. I know, right?

Today, Kaitlyn brought in pistachios. They were delicious and according to Jean, they also help prevent cancer. Double Holla! The bag was pretty funny too.

You can’t really tell, but the bag says “Catch Me On The Web…” Kaitlyn was quick to note how hilarious that woman looks with her scarf blowing in the wind as she drives her convertible peanut. Awesome.

I have refreshed Riese’s blog approx. 87 times in the last 15 minutes. I’m waiting for her to finish out secrets weeks(s). I’m wicked excited. Maybe I’ll go back and read everything in her archives from before I started reading her stuff a couple years ago.

I apologize for the rambling. I am totally pulling a fifth grade reading exercise right now and just freewriting about absolutely nothing. Blah blah blah. Haha. Awesome.

This was my Tuesday night:

Oh, and this:

Waaaaay too much wine and then I went and bought a pack of cloves. In case you didn’t know, I quit smoking. Sort of. Whenever alcohol is present, I instantly crave cloves like whoa.

If I am not near alcohol, I do great with not smoking even a little bit. But, once I even smell alcohol, let alone get drunk, all bets are off. There’s just something so incredibly satisfying about smoking while drinking. It’s almost as if killing one organ at a time is not enough emo self-destruction for me. I must, MUST knock out at least two at a time.

[Meanwhile, back in the land of Lemon Laws...]

No one EVER has a pen. I don’t understand why anyone would call our number and not have a pen and pad within arm’s reach. This is a law office. I mean, for real. Some people call here looking for recall info and they NEVER have a pen. They’re the worst by far. If you were calling absolutely any number for info, get a freaking pen. I mean, their memory is obvs shit cause they can’t even remember a pen, do they think they can commit whatever information I might give them to memory? If they do, they are really, really a lot dumber than I thought.

Anyway…

I’m listening to Motion City Soundtrack and they are fantastic. I saw them live maybe a month ago, maybe less. I have no concept of time, as that would probably require consuming less alcohol and sleeping more. And that’s not gonna happen any time soon.

So I saw MCS a few weeks ago and they were so much fun. The lead singer has the funniest hair ever.

Well, no one’s is funnier or more insane looking than, say Robert Smith…

…or Phil Spector…

…or Donald Trump.

Haha. Awesome. I love crazy hair. Mine is currently in desperate need of a cut. It’s getting so fucking long I can hardly stand it. Natalie, if you are reading this CALL ME. I am dying. You see, my hair is supposed to look sort of, kind of like this, or at least this length:

Instead, my hair kind of looks like this:

The picture is a couple months old, but you get the idea. If I don’t get my hair cut frequently enough, I start looking like a drag queen, according to Cal Schwartz. And he’s a gay man, so he knows.

So, yeah, I need a hair cut like whoa.

I have no idea what I was talking about or how I transitioned so quickly from my accidental drunken Tuesday night, to crazy hair and then back to me. Ah well, onwards and upwards…

I la-la-love the new L Word teaser for season 5. It’s all kinds of amazing. You should check it out. For real. I would not steer you wrong when it comes to The L Word.

P.S. JP: you know you love that I just went against your little nugget of knowledge. Haha. Awesome.

So, The L Word is gonna be amazing. I am all kinds of looking forward to next year. This year was insane. January 2008 will mark the glorious return of The L Word, my return to WSU classes (hello play analysis!), The L Word recaps by the lovely Riese, one month closer to any season other than winter, broken resolutions and maybe, just maybe, the beginning of a year in which I fuck up a lot less. But, let’s be real; I’m not holding my breath. You shouldn’t either.

Here’s a picture of me and JP:

She’s special. And not in a retarded kind of way. In our friendship, I am the retard. But it’s all good, cause I feel a lot less anxious that way, when people kind of already, basically expect nothing but me fucking up. I think I sleep better at night that way.

Hey! ‘Hatful’ cast, crew, etc.: you are for real missing out. Ted, we need to do tea. I completely forgot we had a date. My bad. Remember all that stuff I JUST said about being retarded? See, what I mean? Anyway, I think you (Hatful folks, and non-Hatful folks too I guess. The more the merrier!) should give me a call. Or poke me on facebook. Whatevs. Let’s all get together and get sloppy drunk and get Ted to dance on top of a bar again.

That’s Ted lying on the ground in rehearsal way back when. He’s pretty.
Here’s ONE more picture. My dad is the coolest.

Later!