Saturday, May 31, 2003

Today I am shorter than I've ever been in my life - which is to say, I've only just been told that I am a short person.

I'd long suspected I'm on the shortish side but never...plain old short. And the truth was delivered in such a blunt fashion:

me: Is John really taller than Steve?
andy: Yeah, I believe so.
me: Then John must be huge! Steve's taller than you, and you're pretty tall.
andy: I'm not tall, I'm just average.
me: No, you're really tall. You're waaaay taller than I am.
andy: Well, you're quite short.


There you have it. I am...sigh...a short woman.

After some persuasion (read: whining, jumping up and down, threats) Andy did admit that I am "hmmm, well, pretty average for a woman, I guess".

Strike that - he informed me that I'm around 5'4" - but that can't be, as my driver's license says I'm, oh, around 5'10"? An even 6 feet tall? Something like that.

Who else is five feet, four inches tall, huh? There's me, eight-year-old boys and jockeys.

I'm in need of some Buddhist proverb or something about the beauty of being short because the more I think about it, the more I want to go bite Andy on the ankles for being taller than me.



Friday, May 30, 2003

Hoo ha! Here I go - one day only, I'm gonna be a really tall man. Maybe not for the whole day, just a few hours...tall man. I'll go the the store and when I see people looking forlornly at the "Please ask for assistance reaching the top shelf" shelf I'll say, "You want that double jumbo pack of Mott's Apple Juice up there? I'd be more than happy to help you, for I am a Very Tall Man." And up I shall climb and when I reach the top I'll throw apple juice to all the waiting people far below. "Thank you, tall man! Thank you for assisting us and bestowing upon us these gifts of apple juice!"

The side of my face will have those sheet wrinkles - you know how you get wrinkles in your skin from your sheet? You know why you get that? Because you're dehydrated. Drink some water and you won't get wrinkled. But I'll be hydrated and still have those wrinkles on the side of my face and people will whisper to each other, "That Very Tall Man is obviously hydrated, yet he has those wrinkles. I wonder...are they scars? Is that Very Tall Man scarred or something? How can a scar look like a sheet wrinkle imprint?" They'll want to ask but they won't. And when they go home they'll tell the story of me, how I helped them. See that glass of apple juice you're drinking? That's courtesy of a Very Tall Man. He had this wrinkle...and when they finish the story, they'll realize that they now have a weird phobia about wrinkles and scars and will buy every moisturizing product on the market when all they really have to do is drink more water. The fools.

Models get ribs removed to look skinny. You ever see a skeleton? The rib cage juts out - even more so if you've had a baby. My tailbone sticks out further than normal since I've had kids. Used to be, if I was sitting down in a tub I could slide down into the water but now I can't because my tailbone juts out a bit too much and kinda hurts. But my ribs don't hurt. How many ribs do they have removed? You'd have to remove quite a few to even make a difference because your ribcage sort of curves, and the bones at the bottom are quite small. You need your ribs, they protect your lungs. Then again, most models smoke and snort cocaine so it's not like they're going to be very concerned about it...I'd like to see some statistics about models who have had ribs removed versus us regular folk when we get into car accidents. Do they have a higher instance of punctured lungs than the rest of us? Can you get your tailbone removed? I'd be all over an operation like that.

I have my younger sister convinced that she was born with a vestigial tail, but that mom wrapped a rubber band around it until it fell off and we kept it in the medicine cabinet. That's why she won't keep a Doberman. Because of the tail.

I'm only a Very Tall Man for one day, but Steve is a Very Tall Man every day. He picks at imaginary lint on his sleeve because he's been to posh schools in England where they teach you how to do such things. I bet he has a tie that identifies him as having attended a posh school. Maybe when he sees other people wearing the same tie he approaches them and says, "You old sommabitch, how the hell are ya?" and shakes their hand in a strange fashion. Then they both stand there, picking imaginary lint from the sleeves of their blazers. Yes, they don't wear mere jackets, or sport coats...they're Blazer League. Steve makes me want to learn how to row one of those canoe things. You know that little retractable hook in the backseat of your car? That's for hanging up your blazer when you're driving so you don't get those ass-wrinkles. Steve uses his. I've never used mine, for I like my wrinkles to get people talking.

This is not a young Prince Charles, this is a Very Tall Man.

Today, I'm gonna be a tall man, too.

Mule heel-ingly,


Foto Friday!

For no real reason other than I can, I present you with some random images.

That's my dad with my Bean. My dad is cool - he wears velcro shoes and yes, that is a cigarette hanging out of his hand, despite being on a swing with a small child. Andy informs me that his own father used to change his diaper with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, so I guess my dad's not so bad.

This is Nic on the left and my nephew, Z. Z is half-Hispanic which means he has nicknames like Paco and Chachi. Nic has the nickname Gorgeous George cuz he's all full of himself when he looks in the mirror and, let's face it, the boy is dashing. To amuse ourselves, my mom, sister and I make up scenarios about Z and Nic being "in the pen" - you see, because we're sick like that. Right about when this picture was taken, Nic was attacking Z with a shiv made from a plastic baby spoon because Z tried to get all up in his bidness...Nic was new to the joint so he had to take down the biggest guy there to get his respect. Because that's the way things work in baby jail.

Ms. Beanie Mareno on the train at the fair. She had to shove four or five kids out of the way to get that car all to herself but it was worth it because it made her happy. I was screaming, "Go on, baby, swat 'em to the ground! Look, that little girl isn't too steady on her feet - kick her in the knee, she'll drop. Watch out for that little, good eye-gouge. That's my girl, whoo hoo!"

I have a lot more images but my commentary is becoming increasingly disturbing so I should stop.




me: You know, I think it's funny...once I said that we weren't sleeping in the same bed because of Nic, you get some new gay guys and straight chicks linking to you.
andy: Hmmm.
me: I wonder about that, if that's a men would like you because you're thin and tidy...
andy: Hmmm.
me: And straight women would like you because you're thin and tidy...
andy: Hmmm...
me: Maybe I should start talking about our sex life on our blog - put them all in their place.
andy: No freaking way! Do you realize that people from the UK read that? People I work with? You can't blog about our sex, that's just not right.
me: No one from the UK reads me! I don't think John's been to my blog in, like, six months; I'm amazed he still links to me.
andy: That's not true; I've seen John, and Neil, and Steve...
me: Steve? Steve, the guy I think Steve? Steve Powers?
andy: (grumble) Yeah, him.
me: You don't cuddle with Steve Powers, you strap yourself in and feel the Gs!
andy: Feel...feel the Gs? What the hell is that? You...shut up! Feel...shut up! I'm going to check my email.

(around ten minutes later)

andy: You know he does salsa dancing, don't you? He salsa dances. Feel the Gs, indeed.
me: Are you still stewing about this?
andy: And it's not just him, Neil visits your blog every once in a while.
me: Once in a while? Then he won't even know you're my husband.
andy: You can't. Please don't.
me: FINE! Then sex is off-limits.
andy: Feel the Gs...he's skinny, did you notice that?
me: That's what I love about you so much.
andy: Grumble.



Thursday, May 29, 2003

Hey, this is Natalie back again, concluding Marti's time on the hot seat - thanks for putting up with us, Marti, you're a good sport. I guess I won't be scalping you after all.

I had an entry all typed out but thanks to Kicking Nic and the fabulous Keyboard Pounding Zoe I've lost it, and now I'm mad so I'm going to go sulk for a while.



Wednesday, May 28, 2003

Len asked: Which is worse to you, having yoru son marry outside of your tribe with a different tribe or marrying a white person? Or doesn't it matter?
It doesn't make any difference to me what so ever what the nationality/tribe is of the person my son marries. As long as he's happy, I'm happy. I married a Puerto Rican. My son's father calls our son a CheroRican. Ha Ha.

Natalie asked: I'm interested in knowing what, exactly, "music therapy" involves. My niece has autism and we're always looking for new, progressive ways to treat her. Music therapists use music in varying ways to try and reach/calm/ teach/motivate etc. Music therapy has helped some non-verbals to be able to find their voices. Playing an instrument or learning how to sing has helped ease a Touretter's tics. On a personal note, my son has a speech impediment. He loves to leave out consonant sounds even though he knows how to produce them. He can not produce the hard "c" or "g" sound at all no matter how hard he tries. However, I've noticed that when he sings, his speech is clear and the sounds that are hard for him to make when he talks are easy for him to sing. Something about singing helps his brain connect what he needs to connect that just doesn't work for him when he speaks. Have you ever heard Jim Nabors sing? His speaking voice and his singing voice are completely different. Listening to my son sing versus speaking is like listening to Jim Nabors. It's like hearing two different people.

A good website to check out on Music Therapy is

What got you interested in that field in the first place? Well, observing the above phenomenon in my son helped me to realize the benefits that Music Therapy can have for a lot of different people, but I've always had an interest in psychology. For as long as I can remember I've just been drawn to it. I'm really not sure why. My favorite type of books to read are biographies that deal with people that have psychological and/or emotional problems, such as Sybil, Icy Sparks, Kevin and Me, and my all time favorite author is Torey Hayden. There's really no concrete reason why I want to go into this field, such as, I have a realtive who was remarkably helped and now I want to return the favor or anything like that. It just seems as if I'm being pulled in that direction. Both my mother and sisters are teachers and they worked in schools that were in the lower class areas of town and they are amazing people and have some amazing stories about the children they have taught and helped and I have always sort of envied them being able to get down and dirty with these kids and help pull them out of seemingly helpless situations. I want to do stuff like that. I want to help children and take what WAS deemed unreachable to them, and make it reachable. Already having a Music Degree just made Music Therapy seem like a good direction to explore in achieving that.

Erica asked: Do you see yourself staying in Oklahoma indefinitely? I can't see me doing ANYTHING in life indefinitely seeing as how my attention span seems to be set on about three years or less, but I'm pretty satisfied with Oklahoma right now.

Is it important to you to be near your family? Yes. My family is the most important thing to me. If it weren't for them, then I would probably be in New York trying to find a way to use my Vocal Performace degree right now. I blame my failures are on them.

What's your take on the medicinal properties of Windex? lol. I haven't had much experience with Windex. One look around at my filthy windows would tell you that, however I hear the Greeks hold it in high regard.

Are you an NPR listener? You strike me as an NPR listener. I have never listened to NPR. I don't know why, except maybe because I have an aversion to all things radio. Radio scares me. I'm paranoid about the whole "being programmed to enjoy what THEY want me to enjoy thing."

What do you enjoy most about blogging? Having people pay attention to me.

Have you had any personal revelations or maybe small "a-ha" moments as a result? Yeah, I realized that I'm a much better communicator in this forum than I am when I speak with someone face to face. I've always been stand-offish and aloof, preferring to sit in a corner and make sarcastic smart-ass remarks instead of really talking with someone. In real life, I don't like sharing information about myself or what I've been doing. Let me rephrase that. I don't like TALKING about it. I enjoy writing about it though and I enjoy the responses I get.

Erica asked: I would like to know if anything "interesting" has happened to you as a result of blogging. By "interesting" I mean scandalous or embarrassing or freaky, but if anything plain old interesting has happened you can tell us about that, too. Honestly, I haven't had anything scandalous or embarrasing happen to me yet, but about a week ago a sort of freaky, it's-a-small-world, thing happened. I recently acquired an old childhood friend's email address and was able to make contact with her after fifteen years of not knowing where she was, and I blogged about the experience (I'd link to it, but my May archives aren't working at the moment). Then Rachel of Nebraska pops up in my comments. She found my blog via a link on another blog and didn't really know anything about me, but then she read my entry about finding my old friend and about the schools, Vandever and Sequoyah, that we attended and she told me that she too attended those schools as well as two other schools that I attended. She graduated in 1994 and I in 1989, so we never knew each other then, but this person who just randomly found my blog used to live within a three mile radius of me when we were children. Small world.

Forgive me for not taking the time to dig through all your archives, but I'm curious to know how much emphasis you put on your Cherokee heritage/culture with your son. Do you put conscious effort into it, or does it just kind of osmose, or what? You know I've never really thought about this before. I suppose up to this point it's mainly just been through osmosis, but I'm pretty sure I've verbally explained a few things to him, such as when we went to dig for wild onions, (sorry another archive that's in May. I just love Blogger. Don't you?) My mother and I kind of explained the tradition to him as we were digging and cleaning the onions to get ready for a traditional spring Cherokee feast. Also, there are several traditional Cherokee items around my house and around my parents house and he has heard the language being spoken and he has seen the language written on menus at restaurants, so he is exposed to it through his immediate environment, but I can't really say I have done this consciously.

Natalie asked: And you mentioned your family - did you start your blog to stay in touch with them, do they "get it", what's their overall reaction? And since you know your family reads you, do you feel like you're really "free" to be yourself on your blog or do you edit yourself? Both my sisters live in the same town that I do and my parents only live an hour and a half away, so no I didn't start the blog to stay in touch with them, however, they have learned more about in the few months that I have blogged then they have the entire 32 years they've known me. I think they get it. They enjoy reading it and often print it out for their friends to read. Which seems kinda freaky to me, but whatever. Overall I feel free to be myself, however I won't say that I NEVER edit myself.

The way I understood it, a pow wow was more for showing off while a stomp dance was more religious in nature so I wasn't sure if it was viewed as sacred or anything. Actually, you are right. During pow wows anybody can come into the circle and dance, but during stomp dances only certain people are allowed within the circle.

Since you're a member of Cherokee Nation all of your legal stuff is handled through the tribal council, isn't it? Like marriages, divorces, contracts, that kind of stuff? Or do you have to go through the standard legal channels like the rest of us? Personally, I've never dealt with the tribal council for these things. I've always just gone through the regular channels, but I do know of a friend who got divorced and her husband (a non-cherokee) was trying to get custody of the kids for no other reason than to spite her, but both his and her lawyers told him it would never happend because the Cherokee Nation's say on the issue supercedes anything the US courts would say and the CN always give custody to someone within the tribe. A non-Cherokee adopting a Cherokee baby is extremely hard for this same reason.

And what about conventional medicine? Do you practice the whole "medicine man" thing? A friend of mine...thinking on it, I'm not sure if they were Native American or Mexican - can't remember - did this thing called "oho" or something, where if you had a fever they'd put a fresh egg under your bed while you slept and your fever would cook the egg and you'd be fine. This was, like, in '93 or something. I've seen it work but don't know what the deal with it is supposed to be. I've never really practiced anything other than conventional medicine, but I'm very interested in the whole holistic and other non-traditional forms of medicine. I think some of these techniques should be looked into further by the conventional practitioners. One interesting thing about my father is that he can make warts disappear. I swear. I've seen it myself. He just rubs them for a while and in a couple of days they're gone. Weirdest, freakiest, ass thing I've ever seen in my life. He's done it more than once, more than twice. I don't know why, maybe he naturally excrets some chemical or something that causes the warts to dissolve. Strange, but true.

Also - if you had your choice of what to listen to at work, what would it be? (Back to the music thang - and yes, we will be judging you on it.) I have a very ecclectic taste in music, but my favorite genre has got to be Blues. Classic blues. Ella Fitzgerald, Muddy Waters, etc.

Natalie asked: (You said something about people finding you fascinating simply for being Cherokee so who am I to disappoint?)

Since you're only half-Cherokee, are you still recognized as a member of Cherokee Nation? (I'm assuming that's your affiliation here, since you're in Oklahoma.)
Yes, I am a card carrying member of the Cherokee Nation and I can even vote during tribal elections. We just had a tribal election this past Saturday for Cheif of the Cherokee Nation and for other members or the Tribal Council. Good grief that sounds like something you'd hear on Survivor. There is only one requirement to become a member of the Cherokee Nation and that is to have your CDIB (Certificate of Degree of Indian Blood) card. Obtaining one of these cards is the difficult part. You have to have an ancestor who is listed on the Dawes Rolls and you have to be able to prove that they are indeed your ancestor. Sadly there are many Cherokees, (even some full blood), who can not be members of the Cherokee Nation because no one from their blood line was ever registered on the Final Dawes Roll.

How connected are you to your heritage? I'd say fairly connected. I'm not as immersed in it as some, but I've grown up around enough of the traditions that I know what's going on. My Grandfather's first language was Cherokee. He learned English later when he was forced to attend "White man's" school. He hated it and ran away often. I know a little of the Cherokee language. Mostly just your basic words and phrases and of course the curse words.

I've only known a handful of Cherokee people before so I'm nervous about crossing the line into racist if I or anyone else says anything that seems to cross the line please don't take it personally. Don't worry about this at ALL. I probably one of the hardest people in the world to offend. Don't even worry about it. Just shoot off questions. I'm more than happy to answer anything.

Having said that, what's up with scalping people anyway? That's messed up right there. (JOKE!) I don't have a clue? However, I have my own theories. Way back during the Pilgrim period, Cherokee men used to wear their hair in a style where they had a ring shaved around the middle of the head and then they gathered the hair on top into a short ponytail that stuck up like a tuft on top of the head. My theory is that they were jealous because they looked like idiots and the white men had better hair. Like I said it's just a theory.

I do have another question wholly unrelated to the Cherokee thing - did you ever let your son play with dolls? He's never been interested in dolls, but he does have one of those Barbie VW bugs. It was at the top of his Christmas list two years ago.

My son looks like a bald little Cabbage Patch doll so I let him have one to play with and I think that's freaked Andy out. I don't know how to raise a son, but I don't think it'll hurt anything or make him a sissy boy...what's your spin on that? I don't think a toy is going to turn any child into a sissy, or bring him out of NOT being a sissy for that matter. My son went through this phase of wanting to wear my make-up and bras, and went around pretending like he was Daphne from Scooby Doo. I let him. It lasted a couple of months and now he's obsessed with wanting motorcycle racing clothes so that he can race motorcycles.

One other thing - if the "stomp dance" reference on the comments line is "too much" just let me know. I know a stomp dance is a big deal and I'm not making light...should I change it to pow-wow, maybe? (I'm just trying to be a Cherokee show-off here.) :^) I love the stomp dance thing. It made me laugh. Did you know that a Stomp Dance and a Pow-Wow are two different things? I haven't quite figured out how. They seem exactly the same to me. Maybe at one time they were different religious ceremonies, but now they are both just a chance for people to set up booths and sell things and for people to eat and eat and eat and drink and drink and drink and watch drunk people dance around in a circle. GREAT FUN! ;)

First of all, thanks Natalie for letting me take over your blog for a day, oh and also your husband. A week from Thursday you say?

Let the inquisition begin. (Geez, this is a little scary. Be gentle.)

1.) What do you want to be when you grow up?

Funny you should ask. I just made this decision yesterday. I spent all day on the phone yesterday setting the wheels in motion so that I could start attending classses at the University here in the Fall. I want to get a degree in Psychology and then couple that with my Music degree and work with Autistic children and children with Tourette's, etc. using Music Therapy. I've been wanting to do this for a long time and I even started out as a Psych major during my first college go 'round, but then switched to Music. If for some reason this doesn't pan out then I want to be a cart wrangler at Wal-Mart.

2.) What are you listening to right now?

Unfortunately, right this second, I'm listening to a top 40 radio station, and not only is it a top 40 radio station, but it's a Clear Channel top 40 radio station. Some one kill me now. I'm at work right, and well, that's what's on. My computer here at work doesn't have a sound card, so I can't download any music to listen to and I've already tried the Walkman CD player thing, but I had to wear headphones with that and I couldn't hear the phone ringing or people paging me. I didn't have a problem with not hearing these things, but other people got really pissy about it, so I had to stop.

3.) Best way to charm you?

Buy me stuff. I'm a Taurus and therefore I'm a materialistic bitch. I don't want diamonds or clothing or cars or anything like that, (well a classic Mustang convertible
WOULD be nice). I want video games, particularly Zelda. I have yet to play that game, and I want CD's, and there's a bunch of computer software I want. Oh and a really good digital camera. Are you writing this down?

4.) Best way to annoy you?

Touch me. I'm serious. I hate to be touched. Not all the time, but I get in these moods where I can't stand even the slightest touch from someone. Especially the unconscious touches, like when you are sitting next to someone and your thighs slightly touch. That bugs the crap out of me. If you really, really want to annoy me then pretend like you are going to touch me, but don't don't actually touch, just hover over my skin without actually making contact. This will push me over the edge. My ex-husband developed this particular technique and it's probably one of the reasons why he is now my EX. Okay, now that you all know what a psycho I am, let's move on shall we.

Tuesday, May 27, 2003

And our latest installment of Behind the Blog features...

Name: Marti
Location: Oklahoma
Site: Cherokee Mud

1.) Justify your bandwidth - why should anyone read you?

My schtick, if you will, is being Cherokee. I haven't quite figured out why yet, but for some reason people who aren't Cherokee find this fascinating. Other than that, there really isn't a reason. I'm basically boring as hell.

2.) Kept under wraps - what are a couple of things that people don't know about you or would be surprised to learn?

That I have a degree in Music, specifically Vocal Performance. Why is this surprising? Because, I work in Accounting.

Okay, let's see Natalie asked for a couple so I guess I'm obligated to list one more. Alright this kind of goes along with the first one, I performed in a production of the King and I along side Debby Boone. Yes, the "You Light Up My Life" Debby Boone. Oooooh, impressed aren't you.

3.) Hooking up - if you could meet any blogger who would it be and why?

Natalie says I can't say her cuz I would look like I'm kissing her butt, but it's not her butt I want to kiss, it's Andy's. That cute, round, bald head is just soooo adorable, and when I read his blog I like to read it out loud to myself in a stodgy English accent while I try to imagine.... Okay, so maybe I'm just saying this to get under Natalie's skin, or maybe not. You'll never know now will you? [Ed. note - he will be ready for pick-up a week from don't know what you're getting yourself in to.]

Well, if a court order is issued so that I can't ever met Andy then I'd have to say Michele just because her's was the very first blog I ever read.

4.) Get a life - if blogging disappeared tomorrow, what would you do with your free time?

Free time? Heh. I blog at work, so I guess I would just have to become a more productive employee.

5.) Dish - what's the most interesting/frightening/hilarious/embarrassing thing that's happened as a result of having your blog?

My blog is pretty new. I just started blogging this past November, so nothing like this has really happened yet. I guess what's interesting to me, (maybe not you), is that my family devours every morsel I write. I'm not sure how I feel about this, because when I talk they just ignore me. I think from now on I may just start carrying around a pad and pencil like mutes in the movies do and write down everything I want to say to them.

6.) The end is near - at what point/under what circumstances would you give up blogging?

The point when I would give up blogging would be when I would become completely disinterested in it. Which, given my attention span, should be any day now.

And my standard, "Just one more thing" questions...

What do you want to be when you grow up?

What are you listening to right now?

Best way to charm you?

Best way to annoy you?



I'm back - and sick, as per freakin usual. Every time I visit my mom's house I end up ill, without fail.

I'm not in the mood to talk or blog or work on anything - which is unfortunate because I'm currently in the midst of working on the most revolutionary tax proposal this side of the flat tax...honestly, it'll save the world - but I'm focused on this one stupid thing that was heavily debated over the weekend:

Do you say, "I was standing IN line" or, "I was ON LINE"?

This was brought up because my family claims that I've gone "All Minnesotan" and have lost my regional dialect. But I'll be damned if I can remember anyone ever saying they were "on line" without referring to a computer. On line? What the hell is that?

The second thing is, what do you call your main room in your house? I call it my "front room" but my family calls it a "living room". I used to call it that, but I have a bad habit of adding a syllable, like liv-a-ning so I've trained myself to say "front room".

And then there's the coffee thing...would you like a cup of coffee or would you like to go out for a coffee? A coffee, some coffee, a cup of coffee - I say "cup of" or "some" but I don't know if that's incorrect.

Maybe it's a regional thing, I don't know.

Yep...either work on my tax proposal or write this blog entry...I think I made the right choice.



Sunday, May 25, 2003

Just call me Mrs. Rocks Your Socks Off.

You know why? Because my husband is MR. Rocks Your Socks Off. That's right.

On that fine day when I'm accepting the Nobel Prize in the category of "Just Generally Kicking Ass and Taking Names" I'm going to mention him in my speech. I'm going to say, "I humbly accept this award but have to give credit where credit is due - to my husband, Mr. Rocks Your Socks Off, who was my biggest inspiration and greatest teacher."

I don't know why the award wouldn't have simply been given to him but this is my fantasy scenario so just run with it.

Sometimes you see people doing something and you think, "Yeah, sure, that's cool, but I bet I could do that." This is why clowns get no respect, despite the fact that they have to attend college and earn their PhD in Clowning before they even think of smearing their faces in paint. You look at clowns and think, "Sure, whatever, I can do that, yawn." Then your brain kicks in:

Brain: You're an idiot - why do you think everything is so easy? Because it looks easy? There's real skill involved there but you ignore the inherent complexity of what you're seeing. Remember when you found that unicycle and thought you could just jump right on? I'm amazed you made it out of that one alive.
Me: Oh come on! I found a freaking unicycle - tell me that wasn't fate trying to tell me something? You can't. Who does that? Who finds a unicycle, anyway? And who loses a unicycle? Whoops, can't find my unicycle...
Brain: It wasn't really a unicycle, it was a partially dismantled bike.
Me: Now you tell me. Well, what about when I invented the progressive stilts, huh? Sure, it wasn't as easy as it looked but I improved on the overall design. Progressive stilts - my greatest invention to date.
Brain: You didn't invent anything - you cut your dad's wooden ladder down the middle while playing with a saw and you were trying to cover your ass.
Me: But it worked, didn't it!
Brain: Yet another time I'm amazed we made it out intact.
Me: Brain, you are my greatest obstacle. If you're so smart, why do you let me wait too long to tell me how stupid my ideas are, anyway?
Brain: Speaking of stupid ideas, remember your exercise bike?
Me: Shuddup about that.
Brain: What a dumb-ass you are! You took a regular bike, planted the back tire in the mud between two hedges, held onto the hedges and cycled your little heart out. That back tire was spinning and spinning and you thought you were so smart...pedalling faster and faster, spinning in the mud...
Me: I said, shaddup!
Brain: And then you spun all out of mud! Oh, that was funny - the tire caught on solid ground and shot out from under thought you could hold onto the hedges to keep from falling but splat! You fell right on your ass in that huge puddle of mud. Ah, you're such an idiot sometimes.
Me: How is it that I never managed to damage you, Brain, in all of my falls and spills?
Brain: Because I see the trouble coming and get into the "duck and cover" position and hide under my desk.

See, this is why I need Andy, because my own brain is against me. He believes in me. He'll tell me about something he's working on or a problem he's encountered and I think, "Hey...I can do that" and jump right in...sure, Andy's not asking me for help or soliciting an opnion...and yeah, he pretends to get upset with me when I think I know more than I really do...but it's all an act. This is his way of motivating me, of saying, "Natalie, I believe in you - you can do this!"

It's so adorable when he fakes like he's annoyed with me for asking stupid questions and when I behave as though I've "discovered" something. Okay, so I've never paid attention to style sheets before but now I am - so I am overly thrilled with myself. (Shut up.) It's like one day I was trying to bake a cake but accidentally discovered the secret to cold fusion. It's that big of a deal.

When I excitedly message Andy about a new, as-yet-undiscovered-by-me-therefore-monumental function of a style sheet and he replies, "Well, duh" I know he's not really mocking my simple little mind. Rather, he's saying, "Yes, yes, little hopper...the secret shall be revealed to you soon. The end of your quest is fast approaching - carry on, brave little html soldier, carry on!"

Sniff...he's so supportive.

Ah, my brain is a wonderful little tool, allowing me to delude myself like this. Thinking that I can actually help Andy with his computer stuff. See, I call it "stuff" - that's rather telling.

But maybe...just maybe...I can get this style sheet to change the channel on my television. At least, if I fail, I won't end up in a puddle of mud.

Over the top-ingly,


Saturday, May 24, 2003

This is a title.

Okay, not really, but kinda. I'm working on something, just ignore me. I know my rss is shagged, I know a lot of stuff is crap - all crap, I tells ya, but there's very little I can do about it at the moment. Anyway.

Do you want to know what a monumental bloghead I am? I was sitting with my sister chatting and our conversation turned to something similar to a blog entry that I'd read recently. As this sister doesn't know/wouldn't care/would think I'm a freak about blogging, rather than give the origin of the anecdote I decided to simply say, "A guy I know." Easy enough, right? You'd think so - but then, you'd be wrong.

I finished my story, laughing, while she's staring at me, dumbfounded. What I'd told her was remarkably similar to the story she was building up to...okay, so her friend and my "friend" had a similar experience, not unusual. But she decided this was a good way to mock me by saying, "That's pretty sad that you'd steal a story I must have told you before, change it around and try to feed it back to me. Pathetic!" But I hadn't...but I wasn't...but she didn', no, it's not like that, I'm not recycling stories, that happened to a friend of mine.

Ooh, I stepped into it then.

"Your friend, huh? What's his name?"

And I blanked.

"Gree..ur...eee...George. From Montpelier. George from Montpelier...he's my friend; you don't know him. His sister worked with me once, before they all moved to Montpelier. People would ask me, 'Hey, have you seen George?' and I'd have to answer, 'No, not since he and his sister, whom I used to work with, moved to Montpelier' and that would be the end of that discussion right there."

Somehow she managed to see right through my cunning ruse and misdirection and said, "You're so stupid."

I had to fess up that I'd "read it on the internet" and now she thinks that someone out there has a web page devoted to her dumb friend's exploits.

The worst part of the entire humiliating scenario isn't that she thinks I'm a geek or liar, but that I know I'm a pathetic bloghead through and through because even as I was living this out I was thinking to myself...

...I really should blog about this.



Okay, so I walked through the door of my parent's house around one-thirty this's in Chicago, dad's been alone. All week.

dad: Glad you finally made it!
me: Yeah, there was a hell of a detour through BFE...
dad: Hey, nice tattoo. Mother's day present?
me:, my tattoo is six years old.
dad: Bullshit.
me: No, it's not bullshit - remember, I got it after the robbery?
dad: Who did you rob?
me: Not me, when I was robbed...armed robbery...had to go to court...therapy...
dad: Don't remember that.

* * * * *

me: You get much golfing in since mom's been gone?
dad: No, just been puttering around the house.
me: That makes no sense - usually you're never home.
dad: Usually your mother is.

* * * * *

me: I can't believe mom's been gone all week. She usually doesn't like spending time away like this. This is the longest she's been away since...
dad: Since the last time she was in rehab.
me: (looking at the questions written all over Samantha's face) But, yeah, but before that, the longest she'd been away from home was...
dad: The time before that? Rehab.

* * * * *

dad: Check on those fish.
me: Wow, they're getting big.
dad: They floating?
me: No...should they be?
dad: (Insane laughter) Well, if you go by how much I've been feeding them, yeah...

* * * * *

me: Iowa sucks.
dad: Iowa sucks but it doesn't suck like Nebraska. (a few solid minutes of contemplation and chin-rubbing)
dad: Yep. Nothing sucks like Nebraska.

* * * * *

dad: Did you get a corn dog?
me: From where?
dad: What do you mean, from where? They've been coming here since you were born!
me: Corn...what? Corn dogs?
dad: Yeah, the corn dogs. Memorial Day corn dogs.
me: Oh, you mean at the fairgrounds? That's shut for the night.
dad: When you get one, will you buy one for me, too? It's within walking distance, but (again, insane laughter) I'll let you park in my driveway!

* * * * *

me: All the radio stations in Iowa are terrible! They're all this shitty country western crap.
dad: Like this? twaaaaaaang
me: Where did that guitar come from?
dad: (Insane laughter)
me: For real - where were you hiding that?
dad: Not telling.
me: Honestly - you had that hidden somewhere and I didn't even see it.
dad: (Insane laughter)
me: I never thought I'd say this but...but I think I want my mommy

I swear, this guy is batty.



Friday, May 23, 2003

(link ripped from Nikkirae)

The Oracle of Starbucks thinks I'm an asshat. But the joke's on him, because I don't even drink Starbucks.


One thing I was wondering about here...what's the protocol when dealing with a reply to a comment when it's been emailed to you? Is that indicitave of the blog host wanting to engage you in personal conversation? I mean, on some blogs you'll post a comment and you'll get an emailed response that looks like a comment, but when you go back to the blog you see that the reply wasn't posted there, just sent to you. This happens to me a lot but I've only just realized that sometimes the comment that's been emailed to me doesn't get posted, so...what are people supposed to do? In this case I replied because I actually had a reply to send but - I don't know, I'm wondering if you're supposed to treat it like a regular email (which I'm notoriously unreliable when it comes to replying) or what the deal is. Dunno.

And why is it that everyone else seems to have a story about someone emailing them and asking to be blogrolled? I mean, I've had people email me and say they like my site, or point out an interesting post on their blog...I guess people who email and say they like my site are probably asking to be linked but not in an obvious way? If that's the case I have a few people to mention at some point. But no one's ever come straight out and said, "Hey...blogroll me?" I wonder why no one wants me to blogroll them.

On a different note, for probably the first time ever, I agreed with something Steve said while Andy told me I was out of line for doing so. Bizarro World, indeed. Cuz, see, a lot of the time it's Steve that's the asshat, but he primarily does it to wind people up. Fun guy, he is. If he ever showed up at my place for a beer I wouldn't kick him in the throat -- and that's a promise!

Why is it so hard to find an mp3 of Shudder To Think's "X-French T-Shirt"? What, so no one ever bought that cd, huh? I've had that song running through my head all day and am craving it something chronic - I had that cd years ago but now it's gone...I just want to hear that one song once, you know? Not finding it isn't going to make me say, "Well, I'd better buy that cd if I want to hear it." There should be an mp3 download site, called something like, where you can listen to whatever dumb song you have stuck in your head just to shake it loose. They'll only need, maybe, three songs? "Come On Eileen", "These Boots Are Made for Walking", and that "Wild Thing" song by that black guy. The one that says, "I couldn't get her off my jock she was like static cling." Not to be confused with "Wild Thing" by the fat white guy who yells in the middle and died in a car crash.



But that website would be a good idea.

Ooh, another one - that one by Snow, I think he was called? That Jamacian-type white guy, remember him? He says something like, "Licky boom boom down". Crap, now that's stuck in my head but I'll be damned if I'm looking for the mp3 of that song.

Random-ingly (once again),


That's it - I'm hiding in this room, right here, all day long. My kids are freaking me out.

Samantha walks in and says, "You know, it's sad, because we have these dog treats but we never give them to the dogs." I told her, "Yes we do - they get one every night before bed." She slits her eyes at me and says, in a rather dark tone, "I bet there's all sorts of stuff that goes on around here that I don't know about." Of course there is, you're ten! Now go away, you're creeping me out.

You know how a while ago there was some blogging marketing campaign, like product placement type stuff, where some soda company was paying big-name bloggers to say their drink was fantastic? I think it was grape Sprite or lime Dr Pepper or something sick like that - I forget. Anyway, I wanted to inform you that orange Mountain Dew tastes like a glucose test, and Jello chocolate pudding bites taste like cough medicine. No one paid me to say that.

The funniest thing I've seen all day is the Care Bear quiz, have you seen this thing? (Found via Solonor's aortal site, Busy Mom, who ganked it from Coffee Mom.) This one is me:

Hooligan Bear
Hooligan Bear

Which Dysfunctional Care Bear Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

The funniest thing, though, isn't the Bear itself but this line in the quiz: "You see someone who 'doesn't care'. What do you do?" and one of the options is, "Do them in the butt!"

Well, if they don't care...ya know? Why not?

Oh, how I laughed.

(You'd better get used to this, because this is the mood I'm in today.)



It's bad enough that I constantly have a baby hanging off of me - he goes where I go. He sits in his chair while I hastily shower, he rests on my hip when I try to eat, he lays on the floor in the bathroom. That's bad enough.

Then the three-year-old comes barging in - so I'm in the bathroom with the baby on the floor and Beanie screaming, "I'm sad now and you can't be sad because I'm sad!" Um, I'm not sad - just trying to pee, thanks.

And since I already have a captive audience of two, my ten year old comes barging in as well - why the hell not? Hey, Sam, what do you want? "Uh...can I give this to the dog?" What is it? "Nevermind - I don't want to get yelled at over it." And there she stands. In the bathroom. "I'm not yelling at you, I just can't pee with you standing there watching me." "Okay, fine," she says, still standing there. Sam, what do you want? "Uh...can I have some pizza?" YES! Fine, go eat pizza, just get the hell out of here. She leaves, only to re-enter the bathroom a minute later. "Can I give the dogs a treat?" Argh!

For all the privacy these kids afford me I might as well lift my leg and piss on the sofa like a dog.

Let this be a warning to anyone contemplating having kids - using the bathroom alone will become a novelty. Novelty, hell, it'll become a reason to celebrate.



Okay, so yesterday some crazy-ass parent went storming into my kid's school, causing them to go into lock-down mode - which they only use in the case of a serious emergency. The kids had to get under the desk and they heard some woman screaming something...all my daughter could make out were swear words. Three "or so" cops came, someone said they'd seen so-and-so's mom with a gun, no stupid, that wasn't so-and-so's mom, that was that other kid's mom...

So the hoopla dies down (never try to get details out of a ten-year-old) and the kids are told that they can no longer use any of the side doors. Okay, well, they're supposed to be locked anyway - you can only get into the school via the front door during the day. And they can no long go to the bathroom alone, or indeed, even use the bathroom for kids - they take turns in the teacher's bathroom now, with a buddy and an escort.

I only learned of all of this from a ten-year-old kid, and a note from the principal saying basically, "There was a disruption, that parent has been banned from the school property, sorry if your child was upset."


Yeah, my kid was upset - she had to hide under her freaking table at school because some crazy-ass woman was doing Jeebus only knows what.

I'm shocked as hell that a mother would do leads me to believe that there was something really big troubling her for her to go in and scare the kids like that. Thinking on it I wonder what it would take to get me to do something like that, to storm into a school and raise a huge scene. I can't think of a single good reason. Sure, there would be situations where I'd want to make a scene, like if some teacher was having an affair with my husband, or if I discovered some punk kid was trying something with my daughter. Then, yeah, I'd want to go in and slap someone around if that was the case. But I wouldn't, because it involves a school where there are other children who have nothing to do with anything and could seriously become upset over my actions.

See, my imagination is running rampant because the school can't tell me what the hell happened - all they'll say is that my child is perfectly safe at their school. Really? It's funny you should bring that up, because that's the same thing you told me at the beginning of the year and, ha ha! I believed you. Now tell me what the hell happened.

I grew up with school shootings - I wasn't too far out of high school myself when Columbine happened - so I can understand how easily kids can get rattled by a disruption like this. Especially when they see how inept the school is at dealing with the situation - there's always an on-duty cop on premises but he had to call for back-up in dealing with one woman. I'm a pretty scrappy little gal, but even I can be subdued by one cop. Two at the absolute most. Okay, well one time it took three cops, but that was different.

I personally do not give a shit about this woman's right to privacy, or the school wanting to cover their own asses for liability. I want to know what happened, and what's going to be done to prevent this in the future. And they can't even give me a straight answer on either - but hey, it's only kids we're talking about. They're incidental when the school is facing being sued or whatever the hell the risk is by divulging any information. Total idiots.



Thursday, May 22, 2003

Well, that was relatively painless, though the post below shows up on both spaces...ah well, as long as it's the last post shown on the old blog I don't mind.

Anyway, a huge thank-you to Greg, but I could just kick him in the butt because I dreamed about ducks and geese last night. There were all these teeny tiny baby ducks and geese, I mean around the size of a chicken egg, making nests in my carpeting down my hall and I had to navigate without stepping on any of them. Because their duck and goose mommy was a big-ass dog who looked all too ready to rip my throat out. But I digress.

Okay, so this is my new space, courtesy o' my better half but at the moment we need to tweak a few things around to make them work. Permalinks and the like, you know. I have to hound him to help me with these things because I you say...stupid. Yes, stupid is the word I was looking for here.

And speaking of making life easier, Andy has something in the works that's really hush-hush but will be fantastic once it's finished. I can't say what it is, but I also cannot keep a secret to save my life so this is our compromise.

Ooh, I've just spilled it right then but deleted what I'd said - it's like almost telling the secret but not. Sigh, just another reason why I could never make it as a spy.

So yeah, adjust your bookmarks, blogrolls, whatever to point ya here. Or you can be really lazy and just get from here via blogspot forever and forever until they take it down, whatever.



If I've only learned one lesson since starting this blog back in July is this. Blogspot really, really sucks.

(This is a link. I suggest you click.)

pickle juice has left the building

Yes, you have just witnessed the death of Demonthighs. Please adjust accordingly.



Wednesday, May 21, 2003

Today's Behind the Blog features one of the funniest guys I've come across in a while...

Name: Greg
Age: 33
Location: Oakland, CA
Blog: Geese Aplenty

1.) Justify your bandwidth - why should anyone read you?

For every hit I get, I donate $5 to the Society for Underprivileged Kidneys. My mother likes my blog, and you'd like my mother, so it's axiomatic that you'd like my blog. I use 20% more active verbs than the average blog. When you're caught reading my blog at work, you can simply snap "I'm reading up about geese," and your manager will slink away and feel guilty and eventually promote you and you'll live a life of wealth and success. Sometimes I blog in my underwear.

2.) Kept under wraps – what are a couple of things that people don’t know about you or would be surprised to learn?

- I'm worshipped by certain tribes in New Guinea
- I was kicked out of an early version of the Spice Girls ("Geese Spice" wasn't seen as keeping with the theme)
- I'm not part of the axis of evil

3.) Hooking up - if you could meet any blogger who would it be and why?

Sarah B. of Although she wouldn't especially want to meet ME, because she'd drink me under the table and have to talk to herself for the rest of the evening, she'd make me laugh really hard up until I passed out.

4.) Get a life – if blogging disappeared tomorrow, what would you do with your free time?

I gave up many entrepreneurial pursuits to do my blog, and I would return to them. These pursuits include smugging explosive papayas on the black market, running a rehab clinic for '90s boy bands, and putting together financing for a sequel to "Howard the Duck." Also write a novel.

5.) Dish – what’s the most interesting/frightening/hilarious/embarrassing thing that’s happened as a result of having your blog?

I wish I had something interesting to put here, but I don't. Oh, I turned one of my posts into a commentary for my local KQED radio station. That was interesting. Well, to me. No, you shut up.

6.) The end is near – at what point/under what circumstances would you give up blogging?

When it stops being fun.

And a couple more questions for ya...

What do you want to be when you grow up?

What are you listening to right now?

Best way to charm you?

Best way to annoy you?

And so it begins.




3:25 p.m: Ready to kill my proposal now.
Rather than encouraging people to hate your brother, why don't you name some of your early comedic influences? (Geoff)
My earliest comic influence, even pre-dating our parents' constantly played Smothers Brothers and Cosby records (which we loved, sorry Natalie), was my brother Geoff, who is one of the funniest people I know. (Does that make up for the lawyer joke?)

1:05 p.m. This is more fun than writing a proposal.
Oh you've totally evaded the geek question! No fair. (Natalie)
Natalie, I think I just wasn't sure what "geek" means. Personally, I'd say that anyone who wrote this has to be a pretty big geek.

Are you a real person, or just a computer generated personality with the evil mission to charm the internet world into submission? (Elizabeth)

Are you susceptible to bribes (answer will be catalogued for future reference)? Why do you blog? Is Ismat as cool in real life as she is onscreen. (Erica)
1. Depends on the details; I'm always open to a good negotiation. 2. I started in order to force myself to write something non-work-related every day. Of course, now I'm just an addict. 3. Ismat is unbelievably cool; I loved her to death. She really does have this great laugh.

Which newspaper(s) do you read? What are your favorite television shows? Do you speak any languages other than english and klingon? (Kate)
1. The Oakland Tribune and a lot of online news (I love Google news). 2. Buffy (R.I.P.), Angel, Gilmore Girls, Alias, Six Feet Under. 3. I was forced to have a reading knowledge of Spanish and French for my degree, which I still sort of have although I can't speak either of them worth a damn.

11:53 a.m.: More answers.
Clay or Ruben (yes, I know it comes on Tuesday nights at the same time as Buffy)? Have you ever dressed up as Peter Pan (in public or in private)? (Erica)
I'm afraid I've never seen that show. American Idol, right? So I'll say "Clay" because clay is fun to play with but I don't think much about ruben sandwiches.

I have never dressed up as Peter Pan, although I did put on a mini skirt and a coconut bra in high school to do a "South Pacific" number.

Two questions - one, how big of a geek are you, really? and two, what's with the geese, anyway? (Natalie)
I'm 5'8" and 150 lbs. So I'm that big of a geek. The title of my blog is just a non-sequitur...maybe like yours? (Although perhaps you have a deep and abiding attachment to the remnants left by pickles, in which case, I support your alternative lifestyle.)

10:03 a.m.: A few more answers.
Who would I like to read more of? (Natalie)
One of my favorite authors, Margaret Atwood, just published a new book and I can't wait. I also love the series of children's books by Lemony Snicket about the Baudelaire orphans. Book Nine ended on a cliffhanger...grrrrr.

Have you done any professional comedy writing? (Natalie)
Thanks for the compliment implied in the question. No, but I write marketing copy in my day job and sometimes I can be a little creative. Like, once every five months.

Will you take my to Never Never Land with you? (Jennn)
Jennn, you're so elfin-like that you'd be a really good Tinker Bell. So, of course.

Why does your brother's law firm have such a dumb name? Natalie, question slightly paraphrased.
It's just another reason to hate lawyers.

Hi there, this is Greg from Geese Aplenty and I can barely type because I'm still mourning the loss of Buffy. So if I start typing in iambic pentameter or refer to myself using my Goth name, "Deathblade Bloodbrother," you'll know why. If anyone has any questions, I'll answer them by editing this post and putting the new answers on top.

More questions from Natalie:
What do you want to be when you grow up?
I have no intention of growing up. I mean, not to get all Peter Pan-y on you, but...oh what the hell, why not. Neverland would be a pretty cool vacation spot given that it's basically a time-share with a bunch of pirates.

What are you listening to right now?
Cat Power's "I am Free," just like trendy poseur bloggers everywhere. Although I think I'm almost ready to move on to the Kristin Hersh CD.

Best way to charm you?
Pay my bills.

Best way to annoy you?
Introduce yourself as: "Hi, I'm Rick Santorum. I wondered if you'd care to make a donation to the Church of Obscure Latter-Day Saints. You'll get a free Avril Lavigne CD, as well as a trip to see a live taping of the reality show of your choice."

Tuesday, May 20, 2003

Alright, I'm in need of some personal advice here - don't judge, just listen.

Okay, a little background here...I used to get really drunk. A lot. This, in and of itself, isn't necessarily a bad thing, per se. It's what I did while drunk that would get me into trouble.

I would get on the computer. Never a good thing.

What would I do on the computer? Well, you know that chick at the bar who alternates between loving everyone and wanting to punch everyone in the face? That was me. On a modem.

The biggest trouble with this is that, while at a bar everyone else is drinking and can take the idiotic behavior in stride, everything I say on the computer while drunk stays there, somewhere. Sometimes I rant at sober people, sometimes I say assy stuff in emails, other times I am lovey/abusive in blog comments and I've been known to post bitchy things right here on my own space. (Don't shit where you eat, eh? At least I can delete my stuff on here.)

I had far too many mornings after the nights before so I've stopped all of that but I have a lingering problem...see, there's this blog I like that I read in secret (meaning I don't blogroll him, rather, I have him saved in my favorites so he'll not know I read him) because...well, I'm pretty sure I yelled at him. I think I even called him some not so nice names. I'm pretty sure I was a real jerk but...well, I'm not positive if that was him or someone else. And I'm not sure how to deal with this.

Do I email him and ask him if I was a jerk? In which case, I'll have to explain the whole "emailing while drunk" thing and look stupid...and what if he blogs about it? What if I really crossed the line and called him a neo-Nazi or something like that? What if he's supremely pissed off at me and asking him about it will just add to it? Or should I just forget about it and carry on reading in private...I mean, it's not like it's a super-pressing thing to add his site to my blogroll but you know. I don't know why I want to "make amends" or whatever if I was a jerk...what would you do?

Now that I've "remembered" maybe being a drunken fool to this person he seems to be everywhere. It's like starting a fight with a stranger then discovering it's your sister's new boyfriend...the worst thing is that I liked him before I blasted him but something must have pushed my buttons somehow to set me off and now I'm all shameful an' stuff.

And what if I get through with the whole email apology/amends thing and discover that it wasn't him after all, but some other person I was a jerk to? How would I find that out? I would have to count on the wronged party to let me know somehow...and this has been a while and I've yet to hear anything from anyone...maybe I just imagined the whole thing but I doubt it.



I love being validated.

Last night on Leno (see, Andy, there is a good reason for watching those late-night'll remember the guy I'm talking about) I saw one of the most kick-ass guys ever. And I knew he was kick-ass way before Leno did.

Ages and ages ago I was driving to my mom's and listening to some shitty little NPR affiliate in the middle of BFE, Iowa and I heard this guy singing a song that was so intricate and smart that I pulled over and texted Andy a message that said, "Jason Moreas - Find out everything you can about this guy." The next day Andy asked me what that was all about and I gushed on and on about him, saying he's going to be huge, blah blah blah. Andy and I searched everywhere for a mention of him using every logical variation of "Moreas" because I'd guessed at the spelling (turns out it's spelled Mraz, duh). Needless to say, I've been pining for this guy for ages and last night he played his song on Leno and I've found him again and I am happy. (There's only a small sample of the song "Remedy (I Won't Worry)" - when I first heard it he'd performed it with only an acoustic guitar - fantastic song, right there.)

It's funny as last night I was kicking around an idea for a post on civil liberties - I have a vague recollection that I was seriously pissed off about something and was telling myself, "I need to search for this and that for documentation to back up my argument...really can't forget to do that." Then I heard that song and all of my anger over whatever civil liberties schpiel I had was instantly dissipated. That's the power of Jason Mraz.

Now if only Olenka can get a shot on late night tv I can consider myself utterly fulfilled.



UPDATE: If you play the big from the NBC page, (link above) you get one snippet of the song and Amazon has another sample that picks up right where the Tonight Show audio cuts off, so between the two you get around half the song.

Screw all that - just go to Jason Mraz's site and listen to his audio here.

ANOTHER UPDATE: Hmmm...he sounds kinda wussy in the radio-friendly version. But trust me, the acoustic version of "Remedy" was monumentally impressive.

Monday, May 19, 2003

I'm baaaack!

In case you hadn't noticed I was away all weekend - thanks, Matt, for keeping an eye on the place while I was away.

It's nice to be home - this weekend was a nightmare. I was watching two nieces and two nephews on top of my two youngest kids - I was changing diapers in an assembly-line formation. Apart from the kids I had to deal with my mother being medicated to the nines and walking around saying, "I can't take this stress - I can't deal with all of this stress" while I'm practically crying from exhaustion.

I drove eight hours to get there, managed to get three hours of sleep the first night and four hours of sleep the second night only to turn around and drive another eight hours to get home. The high point of the weekend was Saturday night when I enjoyed not one but two martinis. Let me correct that - I enjoyed one of them, but could barely choke down the second one. (For future reference: a dirty martini made with olive juice = very, very good. A dirty martini made with pickle juice = very, very bad. Beyond bad. Stomach-wrenchingly bad. So bad that I'm considering changing the name of my blog in protest.)

Sunday morning I woke up and hit the ground running to get my stuff packed to get the hell out of there when my father pokes his head around the corner and says, "Gram died." She's not my biological gran but she might as well have been; sort of gran by proxy. I couldn't exactly ditch out on my family too early, as that side of the family is filled with hysterical people and they were counting on me to make the phone calls, arrange flights and generally check in with people to make sure they weren't ready to break down. Gram was 84 years old but these guys were acting like she'd just been shot down in the prime of her life. I guess grief hits everyone differently but the logical side of me was thinking, "Okay, you're blaming yourself for causing Gram to die because...because you moved out of state? Do you honestly think that if you still lived in Chicago that she'd still be alive?" It was crazy - everyone had some theory of how, if only they'd have done something differently, they could have saved Gram's life. Suddenly Gram's death had very little to do with her and everything to do with the actions of everyone else - she didn't die because she was old and sick, rather, she died because you didn't call her last Sunday like you said you would. I just don't get it, but I know I'm going to be the go-to guy for the next week or so for the emotionally unstable. It's the least I can do, I suppose, even if the main discussion currently concerns whether they should play "Rock of Ages" at the funeral like they did for her husband and son when they died or "El Condor Pasa" like she said she wanted. This is not a light-hearted discussion, as two separate camps have already formed on the issue and the attacks are becoming increasingly personal. "Well, if you had really known Gram you'd realize that she hated 'Rock of Ages'..." "Oh yeah, then why did she choose it for her son and her husband? I'm older, I knew her better."

Nothing like soiling the memory of one fantastically cool woman.

Apart from that I'm already living the hell that will be this weekend, as I get to go back to Illinois, missing a second beautiful weekend that would be better spent in my garden and yard. My mom is planning on staying in Chicago for the week and not returning until Sunday so at least none of my sisters will be expecting her to babysit their kids. I'll get to spend a couple of relatively quiet days with my dad working in his yard so it'll not be a complete waste, I suppose. But I'm already dreading that damn drive...though with the long weekend I'll at least spend more time there than I did traveling so I guess that's a plus.

I'm still so exhausted and since it's too nasty outside to do anything in the yard I think I just might go back to sleep. In a bed...that'll be a nice change from sleeping on the couch.



Thursday, May 15, 2003

And now we have yet another installment of the Hot Seat featuring Matt of Homokiddo SFO (Perhaps the ever elusive Brian will join us as well?)

Name: Matt
Age: 27
Location: San Francisco, CA

1.) Justify your bandwidth - why should anyone read you?

They shouldn't. It's an absolute waste of time, bandwidth, and karma. Knowing that there are people out there reading me just furthers my meglomaniac narcissicistic ego, keeping the therapy bills high and the chances of recovery low. The government, if it cared, would release a warning showing that reading my blog stunts the growth of small children, kills otherwise healthy house plants, and turns cute young kitties into evil, flesh-clawing agents of satan. But hey, it is something to do besides download porn and steal music.

2.) Kept under wraps – what are a couple of things that people don’t know about you or would be surprised to learn?

I'm really shy when meeting someone for the first time. I'm way more defensive than I need to be. I'm a very private person. Go solve that riddle.

3.) Hooking up - if you could meet any blogger who would it be and why?

Hugh from SRO would be cool. His was one of the first blogs I discovered.
HCL looks like a tasty dish, need there be any other reason?
DogPoet because he just seems like a really interesting guy.

4.) Get a life – if blogging disappeared tomorrow, what would you do with your free time?

Go back to downloading porn and stealing music.

5.) Dish – what’s the most interesting/frightening/hilarious/embarrassing thing that’s happened as a result of having your blog?

It's always a little weird when people I know just start a conversation based on something I wrote. I always feel like, "whoa, how the hell did they know I was thinking that?" then I remember - "oh yeah, I wrote it down and posted it for the world to read, duh!"

6.) The end is near – at what point/under what circumstances would you give up blogging?

Honestly, I think I'd give up blogging at the age my child has access to the internet and can read. I think it would be too weird. But then again, maybe not. Maybe I'll get lucky and have a child that never learns to surf the internet and will be functionally illiterate their entire life. That way, I could keep blogging.

Those were my Super Boring Questions from before - here are a couple more:

What do you want to be when you grow up?

What are you listening to right now?

Best way to charm you?

Best way to annoy you?

Alright people - you play nice now.



Thus spake Matt:

What do I want to be when I grow up?
I dunno? Taller? My driver's license says I'm 5'8" but as my upstairs neighbor once said, that's only when I'm in heels. The big life goal is to be a dad. I used to think I wanted to be a doctor or a CEO of a large company, but I don't really care about that definition of success any more. When I grow up I want to be calm, 98% less neurotic, have dogs that are well-trained, still be with Brian, and be a dad. Oh yeah, a house in Sonoma would be nice too.

What am I listening to right now
This morning, on the way to the office it was 5 different remixes of Whitney Houston's "Your Love is My Love" although I like to sing along with "Your drugs is my drugs" just because Whitney has turned into such a crackhead. I mean, Whitney, baby, what the hell are you thinking???? But hey, if you had to live with Bobby Brown you'd probably resort to a life of drug abuse too.

Last night, on the way to see The Matrix Reloaded it was a bunch of remixes of Kim English songs, in particular "Unspeakable Joy" and "Higher Things" and also "Tomorrow." "Unspeakable Joy" was a big hit on the gay circuit a few years ago.

In general, it's obnoxious dance music, but I'm also a big sucker for Natalie Merchant, in particular "San Andreas Fault" and her "Ophelia" album.

But, to be incredibly precise, at this moment I'm listening to the owner of my real-estate brokerage talk with the commercial guy about some fucked up deal. Remember, I said I'm listening, not eavesdropping.

Best way to charm me?
Do a chore in my house without me having to ask you to do it. Sweep the floors. Brush the dogs. Mow the lawn. Take out the garbage. Shave the beard off the toilet. Make the bed. I'm simple. I'm easily charmed.

But let's face it, if you don't live with me and you did any of those things, it would freak me out. It would be a bit stalkerish. So othe ways would include - say something nice about me. I'm a sucker for praise. Dunno know why, but man does it get me every time.

Best way to annoy me?
Blame other people for your circumstances. Fail to take responsibility for your choices. Move into my house with your two lunatic children, promise me your unborn child, and then turn out to be a mental case. Whine. Fail to take proper care of your dogs and cats (or fish, birds, rabbits or any other domestic animals you might own or be responsible for). If you are younger than me and you flirt shamelessly with my husband when staying at my house while visiting from a foreign country, that'll get me pretty annoyed too. But if you're older, whatever.

Okay everyone, I've gotten suddenly busy. I have a walk-in client that wants to spend up to 600k, and wants to spend it now, so my access today is going to be kind of tough.

Quick answers - nope, having my mom read my blog doesn't freak me out too much anymore. Some topics, though, are off limits. Like my sex life and intimate financial details.

If I left San Francisco, I'd move to Europe. The south of France.

No, it doesn't freak me out that my mom was in the phone in the tub. I think that she taught me that great trick. I'm a sucker for hot baths, but have the attention span of a hummingbird and thus need a book or phone or something to keep me in the water and not wandering around the house dripping water looking for something to do.

Hankies - that one falls in the mom zone. But I'll have to think about it and see if I can come up with a subtly vague but completely loaded answer!

Would I want to read my kid's blog? Yeah, probably!

And thanks that you all think my mom is so cool. She was always more popular than me when I was a kid. I swear I had friends that hung out with me just to be around my mom!

How is it that I always end up with 20 browswer windows open. It just gets confusing after a while.

Okay, I'm back from my whirlwind tour with clients. If anyone thinks that 600k gaurantees you a nice place in SF, well - you are WRONG. We looked at some serious 2 bed/2 bath dumps. Ouch. Oh well. That's the joy.

Mom asks, "why do I think I talk so fast?"
Because I have a nasty crystal meth problem. Ha ha, just kidding.

I don't know. Probably because I talk at about 1/2 the rate I think. If you think listening to me can be unnerving, live in my head sometimes. And no social work diagnoses, thank you very much.

I think I talk pretty much the way I live the rest of my life - hot or cold. Things are great or catastrophic destruction is imminent. I'm rich or I'm poor. I'm happy or I'm sad. etc. etc. etc. I usually visit a happy middle ground while racing from one extreme to the other. It's just my nature. So, either I mumble or I talk really fast. It's just part of my charm.

Mom thinks I would never have a hanky....
Um, Mom, so in the gay world at least, there is this crazy thing called the hanky code. And a bunch of gay men back in the 70's decided that it was too much work to go up and actually talk to someone at the bar. So they decided to go with the hanky code. The color of the hanky signifies your interests... and I'm not them here. Where you wear your hanky (right or left) indicates your preference for top or bottom.

God I can't believe I just wrote that. So, yes you are correct, I don't own any hankies. But just wait until I get to tell all my friends that you think I'd be wearing paper towels or fast-food napkins. I am almost on the floor rolling in laughter.

Okay, so here's one entirely overly comprehensive guide to the hanky code.

I'd never thought of brawny towels as the quicker picker upper. That's pure genuis. Why gay men don't flag that one for, "I'm in a hurry, let's go" is beyond me. Pure genius.

and Jody, remember, it's always his left or his right. So align your body to his. It works if you are looking away from them and they are staring you in the back of the head. Or if you are looking at their butt. So remember, when you are looking at their butt, you've got the right v. left question solved.

Glad I could be so helpful.

Rita over at Respi Respis Reps ...her blog posted earlier about her horror over hearing the Ramones song "Blitzkrieg Bop" being inappropriately used for an AT&T commercial. I finally saw the commercial about an hour ago and began belting out the lyrics. Samantha, ever the little Miss I Know More Than Any Dumb Adult Any Day Of The Week snottily commented, "Hey ho? What is that? It would have made more sense if they would have said 'G-O, let's go.'" Argh!

Zoe, on the other hand, picked right up on the lyrics and is running around singing the song.

Too bad she lisps on the name "Sheena" or else we could go on tour together.

Ra-moan-ingly, (get it, eh? Nevermind.)


Yo, G, whas crackulatin? I got me some mad linkage, ganked straight from Swimfins, braw. Check it - it's the straight dope on teen lingo laid out for y'all by none other than The Source for Youth Ministry. Cuz see, no one knows how to talk street quite like those folks in Youth Ministry.

This thing is laid out like a dictionary of terms, presumably so the fine folks who are reaching out to kids these days can, you know, be down with the lingo and communicate. But if the definition isn't enough for you to determine the proper usage they also helpfully include the word or phrase in a commonly heard sentence. Which include:

  • "Yo, you don't need to be all up in my grill unless you want me to flex you like a skeeza!" [I say this to Andy every time I barbecue.]

  • "John's eyes are all bloodshot, I think he got baked at recess." [There's nothing quite like firing up a bowl behind the monkey bars, getting nice and toasted and swinging on the tire on your stomach. Thank Jeebus we had naps and snack time three times a day in grade school.]

  • "Dad told me to go to my room. he's so bunk!" [Damn you dad - being all bunk like that. A true thug would have busted dad right in the grill for being so whack.]

  • "At the Dead show some one dosed some licorice and passed it around " [I didn't find the inclusion of this statement incongruent at all. Nope, not a bit.]

  • "Quit mackin on them bootsie-lookin hoochies over there!" [Back in my day we only had one 'bootsie', and that was Bootsy Collins. And he was the mack.]

  • "That was a sick ollie over the stairs braw!" [An "ollie" is a skateboarding trick - again, not incongruent at all. There's nothing that gangsta-wannabes enjoy more than a little skateboarding.]

And my ultimate favorite definition of all time - seriously, I'd like to meet the person who came up with this gem:

hoochie mama
n. More than just a hoochie. A hoochie of hoochies. Someone who excels in all the qualities of hoochidom. "Yo . . . you ain't nothin but a hoochie mama!"

They say it like it's a bad thing?

So now if you come across some thug-looking kids in the street you can walk right up to them and start using their lingo. Even if you don't remember the proper usage of everything, just start jabbering away anyway. They'll appreciate the effort and will give them a nice, warm "gangsta" feeling. You'll be glad you did.



Wednesday, May 14, 2003

Alright, this is Natalie back again, jiggety jig.

I have to give my heartfelt apologies to Buddha, as I'd wanted to be more of a part of this than I was but that stupid "real life" thing cropped up and kicked me in the's been happening more and more frequently these days and believe you me, I'm hating it.

If I ever get a real social life I think I'd definitely go hang and see Buddha do his whole artist thang, that would be fun. It doesn't appear as though we've found him a new lady love but ah, he's bound to find someone soon.

You know, it really is refreshing that he's trying to maintain a passion for something, because honestly it's far too easy to get caught up in the whole "rat race" aspect of life...and that tends to make you a miserable person to be around, both for others and also for yourself. I get the feeling that even if everyone else in the world were to fall away, Buddha would still be good company for himself.

But I digress.

Anyway, a heartfelt "thank you" to Buddha for putting up with this, especially with the connection problems he'd faced today. Round of applause for Buddha!

And now I plan to drop blissfully into slumber - which I've earned, thank you very much - and we'll be seeing you tomorrow.



Tuesday, May 13, 2003

Alright, folks - today we'll be taking pot-shots at Buddha who is, as Captain so helpfully points out, currently looking for a lady friend. (Now you all go, oooeeerrr!) So if you're interested, eh?

Let's begin.

Name: Buddha
Location: Minneapolis, MN

1.)Justify your bandwidth - why should anyone read you?
People should read my blog because anyone who hasn't come in contact with me is missing out. At least that's what my mom says. Seriously, it's a good place to stop to keep up on the happenings of the Minneapolis spoken word scene, my life and there's always some decent underappreciated links to weird places on the web. I guess you could call it an ecclectic collection of words.

2.) Kept under wraps – what are a couple of things that people don’t know about you or would be surprised to learn?
That I was once almost charged for espionage in an easter European country. Long story. [Note: You have a lot of space to fill - feel free to enumerate and elucidate, my good man.]

3.) Hooking up - if you could meet any blogger who would it be and why? 
That's a tough one, since I have met a few bloggers already. It would be a 3-way tie between: Fish because she's always a little off the wall, Dooce because of her wonderful humor-which I wish I had even an iota of, and Wil Wheaton because he's got a good grip on life and has always been cool to me in e-mails we've shared.

4.) Get a life – if blogging disappeared tomorrow, what would you do with your free time?
Well, after the twitching stopped, I'd probably go back to muttering gibberish on street corners in Uptown. I'd probably also go to grad school.

5.)Dish – what’s the most interesting/frightening/hilarious/embarrassing thing that’s happened as a result of having your blog?
Unfortunately, the most intersting thing that has ever happened is the fact that people are actually stopping by and reading what I have to say. So far i have been very careful in not revealing ID's of my friends so there has been no major drama.

6.)The end is near – at what point/under what circumstances would you give up blogging?

When circumstances deprive me of the ability to think with a free mind speak out without fear of reprisals (I figure that should happen sometime towards the end of Dubya's 1st term, or early into his 2nd)

Those were my Super Boring Questions from before - here are a couple more:

What do you want to be when you grow up?

What are you listening to right now?

Best way to charm you?

Best way to annoy you?

Alright, that's good for a start. I'll back away and let Buddha take over.



Thus spake the super-Buddha:

First of all, let me apologize for being so late in starting this. My web access has been down all morning, proving once again that my provider company is run by two howler-monkeys working on a typewriter.

Hmmmm. What do I want to be when I grow up? Nothing. I don't want to grow up. I prefer being the one guy who everyone knows that somehow remained 17 for his entire life. I know it can be frustrating for other's, having to deal with a guy who is never serious, but hey, it keeps everyone around me on their toes and I think it can be a bit endearing too. But if that's not an option I'd have to go with being a beach comber. You know, that one guy you always see on every vacation. The one who looks like he's about 3 steps from destitution, yet is always smiling and has the most caual attitude you've ever seen. The kind where you don't even need to talk to him to realize that nothing shocks him and he just carries on day to day. I want to be that guy when I grow up. Preferably living down in Key West. Which makes me wonder sometimes why I am going to grad school?

Right now I am listening to a whole lot of different stuff. During the course of a typical day I go through different moods and need the right soundtrack to fit each of them. For quiet times, I am all about Levi Chen. If I'm looking to get angry, The Suicide Kings Spoken Word album is pretty tough to beat, and I have recently picked up some odd stuff from Norway called "Perculator." I can get into just about anything if I've got my mind right. Except country made after 1975 and anything even remotely tied to Lou Perlman, that dumpy washout. Sorry, but I have a special place in hell all picked out for Lou.

The best way to charm me? 3 words: Flattery. Flattery. Donuts. D'oh! I meant flattery. Seriously though, there are a few ways of charming me. 1) get me drunk. That's right, feed Buddha enough Vodka and anything you say or do will charm the pants of him. Sometimes literally, but lets not get into that right now. 2) Spit your knowledge of poetry or art or accounting or spelling for all I care. I don't care which, just show me that you know somehing; that you are intelligent. I find that all that very charming. Show me you know more than I do, because there is nothing better than a smart person. If you've got a smart person to hang out with you never have to make very critical decisions and lessens the chance of getting in trouble. See the logic? 3) Know who Rod McKuen is and readily admit that he is the greatest poet of modern times. 4) Offer to buy me piercings or tattoos for my birthday, or better yet, "just because." Finally naivete can be charming I guess , but it also falls into the next category.

The best way to annoy me is to be too naive. I'm sorry, I don't go for the whole "I haven't experienced my own back yard, everything is new to me. I have nothing to teach or show you, so you must do it all!" Nope, sorry. That's a free one-way ticket to "get-out-of-my-sightsville." Other ways to annoy me are (and these are all things I have experienced) 1) Being way too intense of a person. Cool down ok? I don't need to know your entire life's experience in the first 15 seconds I meet you. 2) Believe that good political or religious discourse should always end in yelling the words "screw you!" 3) Wake me up. 4) poke a machine gun into my ribs and threaten to shoot me.

The reason I mentioned that last one was because natalie asked me to enumerate on almost being charged with espionage in Eastern Europe. Well here it goes: It was May of 1997, I was a fresh-faced sophomore in college and thought I should do some traveling before going back to school in the fall...Anyhow, I ended up in Poland doing a propaganda and persuasion study at Lodz University. While there I traveled around a certain amount and ended up, for a time, in Warsaw. It's a great city, with a decent night-life, cheap drinks, huge raves etc. What's most interesting about it, though, is that you can look at any city block and see many buildings dating back to the early 1900's. But usually in and amongst these gorgeous sructures would be new, glass faced and glitzy buildings. very pretty on their own, yes, but mixed in with the real classic beauty of the buildings around them the new places looked tacky and out of place.

It was a very odd thing for me to see, coming from America where we demolish anything more than 20 years old. Thus everything is somewhat new. But here I was, seeing two different types of beauty, and guess which one lost out? Right. the new building. So anyhow, after seeing this kind of thing over and over again, I decided I needed to take a picture of it, otherwise I'd never be able to fully explain the scenerio to my friends back home. I find a nice street corner with few people on it and start snapping shots of the block across the street. Next thing I know, I have 2 polish police officers running at me, shouting, and pointing their machine guns at me (not handguns, not shot guns, machine guns). Being that I was not very proficient with the language yet (it's an odd mix of German, Russian and gibberish), and under severe stress from having a gun pointed at me, I started freaking out. I put my hands in the air and proceeded to be berated (I think) by these two police officers.

Well as you can imagine, this was creating quite a commotion, which brought over 3 more officers (all with side arms and machine guns) so now instead of 2 guns pointing at me, I had 5. Wonderful. What the hell do I do now? Everyone is yelling at each other, pointing at me, then trying to get me to walk with them by jabbing me in the ribs with his gun (a lot harder than I would have liked). Then because of the momentary pain and my confusion I start going the wrong way and they didn't like that. Ever heard 5 machine guns lock and load all at the same time, knowing it's because someone is getting ready to possibly shoot you? I have.

So yeah I got my arms above my head, my camera around my neck, I'm about to piss myself in fear, and what happens? A professor (Piotr) I knew from the University happens to be about half a block away, recognizes me, knows I can't speak very good polish, and sees I am in deep shit. So what does he do? Only the logical thing: runs towards us all, screaming, waving his hands and generally looking like a lunatic. Good, good. That'll put everyone at ease. Funny thing though, I'm the only one feeling better about this because as soon as my "enterouge" sees Piotr coming they level three guns at him. So now we're both in a bit of a bind.

Piotr comes skidding to a halt with his hands up and starts speaking to the police in as calm a voice as he can muster. They answer back and Piotr looks directly at me and says "Buddha, what the hell were you doing? This is one of those times when you need to be very specific about what's going on." So I told him. I told him about the the beauty and the tacky buildings and how much I loved his country and I think that's about when I started pleading for my life. So, Piotr goes back to talking with the police and turns back to me and says, "Buddha, you might be in a bit of trouble. You see here in Poland, we don't have a seperation between local police and military. They are all one and the same. You see that building over there? the one you were taking a photo of?" he points to one of the buildings that I had indeed taken a picture of. "that's a police station, and in this country photgraphing it is like going to an army base in the U.S. and taking pictures of it. These officers are trying to decide if they are going to take you into custody. For espionage."

Espionage? Like spying? WTF? You have no idea what kinds of thoughts raced through my mind.

Piotr and the officers talked more and the next thing I knew I had my camera and camera bag ripped from around my neck, the film torn out of it and what was left shoved hastily back into my hands. Whereupon they started walking away, chatting and whistling, like nothing had happened. Again: WTF? Piotr took me out to coffee to calm me down, and then to an art gallery. It ended up being a decent enough day. But yeah, that's the story of how I was once almost brought up on espionge charges in a foreign country.

Piercing's and Tattoos

Ok, Marti, here's the thing with piercing's and tattoos: Currently I only have my ears pierced (a couple in each) but I have had both nipples and tongue pierced in the past. The nipple piercings went bye-bye thanks to a, how shall I put it, overzealous (now ex) girlfriend (I'll leave the complete story to your imagination) and the tongue piercing had to go because I took a lame job in a corporate office. They freaked at it and said it goes or you do. I had to support my Nuff said on that. I plan to get re-pierced after I quit my job and head off to grad school.

In regards to tattoos I don't have any yet because I am just finishing up the desgings for a couple that I hope to get done this summer. I figure my first tattoo should be something that is original and not pulled from a flash book or off the wall. But, then again, if it's a spontaneous situation I'd go for something mass produced as long as it still has meaning.

The reason I would find it charming for someone to buy me a piercing or tatto is kind of hard to explain. It's spontaneous and it's not the normal gift someone gives. "Hey buddy, for your birthday I am going to pay someone to puncture your nipple! Happy Birthday Buddha!" Or better yet, "I'm bored, lets go do something permanent and love ourselves for it. Never regretting it, no matter what because it'll be part of who we are." Does that make any sense? I guess a lot of it ties into the spontaneity. Living in the moment and not caring about what or how it will affect you later. I'm a big proponent of "going where the day takes me."

I guess I have always found body modification/adornment to be something very cool, expressive, and one of the few stages of human development that has stuck with us (humans) longer than most stages do. Besides, typically, people with piercings and tattoos end up being more fun. So yeah, that's the deal with piercings and tattoos.

Yes. I admit it. I do own a few "Hawaiian" shirts. What can I say? When you're someone like me, it's better to warn others waaaaaaaaaay in advance (like 3 blocks away) of what kind of person I can be. I find them to be very entertaining and it's hard to find anything that doesn't go with them. Besides I can be a bit of a klutz sometimes and there is no food or drink or ink on earth that leaves a "noticable" stain on a hawaiian shirt. Trying to locate the spill would be like playing "Where's Waldo" in a Picasso painting.

Grad School: I am actually getting an MBC from St Thomas. it's a good program that mixes business theory with mass media/PR/Advertising/marketing emphasis. I actually registered for classes this morning while I was waiting for my internet service to go back on-line. there was a time when I thought I'd never ac to schoo and here I am doing it. But why? And why Business? Simple, I love learning. I love to acquire new knowledge, I love the feeling of knowing there is something new that I can do with my mind. I really love the pursuit of knowledge. So much so, I may go on to another degree after this one, or just take ad hoc classes here and there. The reason I chose business is due to a sound foundation...god that sounded horrible. I figure that my first post grad degree should be in something that can help me a get a job that will in turn pay for my other grad degrees. After that I might go for a BFA or MFA in studio painting, which, for years, has been one of my favorite ways to pass time. Along with writing. So maybe I'd go for a master's of english/creative writing. Who knows? What I do know is that my education is going to be an ongoing thing. Forever.

Ron Perlman? Nope, no problem with him, even though I never really got into his show. It must have been hard to put on all that makeup every show though, huh? I wonder how long he had to spend in a makeup trailer every morning. Do you think he was glad to end the show? Has he actually done anything since then? It's probably hard to get work if your last job was playing a talking lion/bear/dog thing. Though Linda Hamilton was pretty hot in that show. Maybe that's why she didn't do a whole lot besides Terminator after the show ended. It's got to be even harder to get work if you last job was the love interest of the Lion/Bear/Dog thing.

I was talking about Lou Pearlman that dumb hump who liked to play Dr. Frankenstein and created monsters like NSYNC and Backstreet boys.

Ron, good. Lou, the devil.

Ok, i wasn't going to touch on this, but since it was brought up-what the hell, right?

What I look for in a "Gal," as it was put, varies from day to day. Somedays I think I am looking forthe type of girl that is stable. the kind you sit with on sunday mornings in a quiet coffee shop, reading the newspaper together. Other days i think I am looking for the antichrist herself. The kind you spend only the darkest hours with (Like 3 a.m.-if anyone gets that literary reference give yourself 10 extra points) yet always keeps you guessing and scared. I guess I am looking for a girl with a little bit of everything in her. She needs to be spontaneous, stable, nice, mean, intelligent, witty, fun, thick-skinned, soft-skinned. Above all, she must love poetry. Not bullshit Robert Frost, or flowery love type poems. She needs to love real poetry. She needs to dig Shane Hawley, Jamie Kennedy, Shane Koyczan, The Suicide Kings, Officer Dean, Geoff Trenchard, Cynthia French, and I G herself. A girl needs to pull it all off the shelf and show me that she knows what she's talking about. If she can quote even one line from Shane's "Beethoven" she's almost got me. If she can tell me who said "Children are molotov cocktails missing a match," She's got me forever.

I guess I like girls who are into poetry and art and all the things that seem to lessen the blow of the day-to-day world in which we live. Girls that can take me down the rabbit hole, through the looking glass, into a not-so-Grimm fairy tale.

The physical attributes don't mean so much to me. How's that for answering and not answering the question?

Oh, I guess I forgot to mention my thoughts on the "on-line hookup." I guess it could work out. I've know people who have done so and had everything work out so far. And I guess there is a benefit to doing it that way because it forces a relationship to be based on communication. True communication. the sharing of ideas and opinions. Also, I think that there is the opportunity for two people to be much more open and"real" about who they are. It's a lot easier to to face the chance of ridicule or rejection when you aren't talking face-to-face. That's my take on it anyhow.

Erica made a comment about my being "so dramatic." And since this is an open forum of discussion, lets look at that.

Personally i don't like that word. It makes me think of things like highschool musicals where everyone got a part so no one would feel bad. It brings to mind visions of Liza Minelli and Liz Taylor. I don't think I'm even close to any of those things, though I could be wrong. I prefer the term "passionate." I think that everyone needs something in their lives that they are passionate about. Something that is the diversion of all diversions in their life. The one thing that they could take to that proverbial deserted island and honestly be happy with it for the rest of their days. Whether it's art or ideals or anything else for that matter.

I work everyday in a place where all the people around me seem to have losttheir passion for everything. I also see it so much in the general population around me. They act as if there is no passion in life even. This scares me because I think a life without passion is a life devoid of life itself. I don't want to end up like the stumbling zombies I work with every day. I want to retain my passions, whatever they may be, and I want to nuture them to steel myself against any possibility of losing them. I guess the way I am as a reaction to what I see around me everyday. I think it's also why I love Uptown so much-everyone has passion and flavor.