some thoughts in winter.

ok, so i hadn't seen March of the Penguins, ever, because as much as i lurv the little buggers i just wasn't into watching a narrated nature film. srsly, the closest i get is like, Milo & Otis. or what was that other one, the Incredible Journey or something like that? but i just read (ok, ok, i know i'll be made fun of for being clueless for this) that there are penguins who die in March of the Penguins. they show them. freezing. to. death.

i am so sad i know this now.

i guess i should've known this, already, just by using my powers of mental thinking, but i opted to not think about it, and i was happy with my denial, thank you very much. this comes on the heels of a lingering low-grade depression of late, and a sad moment on my trip to western NY.

i was out walking in my grandmother's 'field' while trying to digest a pie. there are a couple paths (car-wide) cut through the brush, so i followed one down past the stream that (mostly) marks the property lines... like so many times before. i've walked this in winter, spring, summer, and autumn. it's a casual nature trail, with deer, coyotes, turkeys, foxes, rabbits, rodents – you name it – all living, or commuting, through the area. on that particular trip, i saw no creatures milling in the early twilight (just my luck). just tracks. i managed to identify a fox trail and several crossing deer trails.

i followed the fox trail for a while before turning back -- he had the same idea, i suppose, about staying out of the brush and had conveniently walked along the side of the path most of the way up, way past the stream and cross path that marks the property bounds. on my way back, i spotted something in the snow on the cross path, just a few feet off the path i was on. it was the frozen body of a fox. it had clearly fallen sometime during the snowfall of the past couple days, and was half-covered by the snow. he lay on his side. the fur was a radiant red, with perfect, beautiful long black-furred legs, and a large ear protruding from the snow. he wasn't curled up. he just lay, as if he had fallen over in mid-stride. his eye had sunken in and had snow and ice in the depression. a couple yellowy teeth could be seen in the slightly open mouth. his tail was, i imagine, hidden under the snow... possibly gone, if he'd been in a fight. but there were no signs of trauma. no blood. no wounds. he lay, beautifully preserved, asleep with a slightly angry look.

i was sad, but not so much a city girl that i didn't comfort myself with the nature of nature... he had starved or frozen, and such things happen, and have happened, to more creatures than this. but he was so beautiful, and i coveted this thing. i wanted to dig him up out of curiosity, but i hadn't worn my gloves. and then what? take him to a taxidermist? touch the body of a dead wild animal?

my adult thoughts won over my child-like feelings and i walked back to the house, still desiring, deep inside, to possess this wild thing, so still and fierce and lost. i'm not sure why the feeling lingers. maybe i want to save him yet, to keep his beauty from being ravaged. but what good would that do? what is there to save?

it's amazing how such a small thing can stir such emotions. on my way back in the house, my cousin asked me in the driveway if i saw anything. i answered, "just a dead fox."

just a dead fox.

Defending My Honour.

i went up to see the maternal family (sans the actual maternal unit, still residing in Fla.) for xmas. drove 8 hours xmas eve, got up at 9:15 and started eating by 10am xmas day. left at 4am december 26 to my aunt asking "are you sure you don't want me to fix you anything to eat?"

the highlight of my trip came after xmas dinner at my grandmother's house. i had been very careful to not eat excessively; that has been a regular regret nearly every trip. well, it *is* home cooking, after all... how can there be such a thing as too much? anyway, my other aunt, Shirley, asked which pie i would like. i replied that any pie would suffice -- she made like 7 different ones. she jokingly brought a chocolate cream pie to me, complete and whole in its tin (i believe it's called a chocolate cream pie -- it's basically thick chocolate pudding in a crust with whipped cream on top, and chocolate shavings on that if you go the extra mile). i chuckled and accepted the pie, asking for my fork, which she brought. then i looked at her sincerely and said, you know, i will eat the whole thing. Shirley said "good!"

at this point, there was talk in the kitchen and my cousin John seemed to believe i could not finish the entire pie. there was nothing left but to defend my pie-eating honour.

i had to take a break about 7/10ths in to walk outside. but i finished the pie. John said it didn't count because i didn't eat all the whipped cream, but i think it did. besides, the whipped cream tickles my throat and started to make me feel like puking.

i am awesome.

Let Them Laugh

yes, let them mock me, bundled in my down parka with gloves and scarf. at least i'm warm.

Can You Tell the Difference?

this is the 'other thing' i alluded to doing over a past weekend. it's hard to tell in the photo, though.

PA is kinda sad, sometimes

and kinda (prolly inadvertently) funny. witness "Jersey Shore:"



right in the heart of PA -- even further inland than Scranton.
Scranton!

Went Ice Skating

and i didn't fall down!

granted, i only circled the rink a few times. but still, props to me for not injuring my physical or mental self.

my real estate agent and his associates had a family ice skating party at the Reston Town Center, so i went cos a couple friends were going (also clients of my agent) and what the hell. yeah, it was raining off and on, but mostly it was fun. santa was there, too, but all he gave me was a candy cane.

i did something else this weekend, too, but i won't blog that 'til i get the pix.

A Moment to Be Catty.

there's a woman here at work who will bitch and moan over every small mistake we (my team, production) make. sometimes it's not really a mistake, it's something we've always done or actually did right, and she just thinks it's a mistake. the REALLY annoying part is that she takes a looooong time to complain about it.


i'd have a lot more patience with it if she didn't make so many damn mistakes herself.

The carbs, the fat, the protein, the uncomfortable feeling of fullness...

Viva La Thanksgiving Pizza!

Spooky Halloween!

just over two weeks after the fact, i have the Halloween party photos! first up, scary and scared jack-o'lanterns.

with the lights on...





and with the lights off.






here's the take-home guest goodies...


the little cupcakes, both chocolate and red velvet, and the made-from-scratch Monster Fingers (soft pretzel dough) and Pumpkin rolls (just coloured dinner rolls)...



you can see sylvia eyeing my creations in the background.

here are a couple other creations (little cakes with frosting). the spikes are pocky -- or, rather, the Korean pocky equivalent i picked up at the store.


the real reason i had the party, though, was for an excuse to make these:


the cakes were chocolate and red velvet, with chocolate and vanilla icing (food colouring in the vanilla), and their legs were made of licorice. i really wanted black bendy-straws for the legs but could find none... so the licorice ended up snapping and the spiders look half-squished. i made a half-dozen or more of them. the best part was finding a plate with just legs and red velvet cake crumbs... that poor, poor spider.

These is My Coasters

they didn't turn out quite how i wanted them, but they sufficiently... er, uh... coast.

AWWWW YEAH!

less than 11.5min/mi average pace over 3.1 miles.

i may be thirty but at least i ain't that out of shape.

Well, this is it.

i'm 30.

The. Party. Was. Awesome.

OMG so it was so awesome that so many people came and we had good times and played wii and ate too much cheese and sweets and booze!

i don't have pix of costumes and fun times (sorry, i was too busy having fun times) but i do have pix of the spider cakes and such.

awesomest point of the night: quietly cuddle partying in the bedroom.

i loved when, as i was standing outside, i saw mrs. pinchloaf standing by the piñata, gently hitting it and looking out, as an expectant cat bats at the toy on a string, waiting for you to pick up the stick and make it move. piñata time was fantastic, even if i did not respect the laws of physics when choosing my piñata stuffers. broken gumballs and candy corn went a-flyin', but even mashed lindt truffles are yummy :)

sadly, i realized that the smaller magnets had lost their magneticity (damn cheap craft magnets) the next day, so if you are disappointed with your magnet and would like a working one, let me know and i'll fix it up real good-like. the magnets with the thicker backs should be fine, tho.

thank you everyone for coming. and bringing cheese. and giving me a great party for halloween. i haven't thrown a party for nearly five years because the last one was so lame, so this was a nice comeback.

ya'll rock.

spotted!

definite IDs:

Black-capped Chickadee
Downy Woodpecker
House Sparrow
Northern Cardinal
Tufted Titmouse
White-breasted Nuthatch
House Finch
House Wren

maybes:

American Tree Sparrow
Song Sparrow
Red-headed Woodpecker

work out

i tell the people at the office i'm going to exercise. i put on jogging clothes and take my iPod. but i really go down to the snack machine for honey buns and twinkies and eat them quietly in the unlocked downstairs supply closet.

almost there

so, i spent another $400 or so on house stuff... and i'm *almost* done. it's amazing when you're kind of starting over how much stuff there is to get. and how much stuff you want to get :)

so, a little more organization and the place will start looking like an actual home, with a living room and bedroom and non-paper plates and everything. it's pretty exciting. i hope by the time the halloween party rolls around it really is in better order -- that's the plan, anyway.

the birds are totally digging the balcony. of course, i put out the primo seed -- sunflower. a wren has been spotted, but the most exciting bird moment of this weekend was the titmouse. or, rather, the titmouses, uh, titmice? titmeeces. there was a pair. they are adorable. i was watching through the window when one flew to the window ledge, 8 inches from my face, and gave me a look like he was sizing me up. then he took off with an attitude of "you're not worth it." it was great. but the house sparrows are getting so comfortable i'm afraid to leave the door open, thinking maybe one of them will decide to explore inside and i'll end up with another fiasco à la the wrens of springfield.

with the new coffee table and it's non-glass top, i decided i needed some coasters. and being the crafty girl i am, i decided my sunday project was to make the coasters. the a.c. moore didn't have exactly what i went for, so i improvised with a couple picture frames (glass to be cut to coaster size) and floral flat-backed marbles. i'm less than ecstatic with the results, but it was less than $10 so lesson learned. and they'll work until i make the coasters i really want.

the magnets of last week, however, are pretty awesome. i bought some more supplies to make more of 'em.

Spotted

a tufted titmouse. hee hee. i said 'tit.'

finally saw the dang cardinals i can always hear but never spot.

also, possible wren action.

The Joys of Homeownershipness

1. paying twice my rent for the privilege of fixing everything that goes wrong. like the plumbing.

2. seeing a Downy Woodpecker outside my balcony. OK, you can see 'em renting, too, but it's different. it's like i own the woodpecker :)

3. having a party at my new house. a nice, small, quiet party with really cool peoples.

4. painting the walls whatever colour i damn well please.

5. installing stuff in the walls requiring screws and whatever.

6. not having to wonder if, in a year or two, all this furniture will work in my new place.

sittin' at home, doin' nothin'

and it's good. the rodeo is on telemavision and i must say, those cowboys are a pretty cute bunch. but what i really like about it is how they feature the bulls as much (more, even?) as the riders. they talk about the bull's record, his history, his attitude, his technique, and there's even a shot of the bull with blue screen effects as he stands, looking defiant, then runs toward the camera. it's totally awesome! go bulls!

TROGDOR!

oh, those lolcats! makin my wurkday betters!

autumn, the finest time of the year

i love autumn. it's one of my top four favorite seasons. seriously, it really is my favorite. after the madness of heat (i often sympathize with Meursault from a specific scene in Camus' L'Étranger -- more on that in a minute) the slight chill and fresh breezes are welcome, even though they may be harbingers of death.

and that's the sad part of autumn. not the hibernation (little deaths) of plants and running about in shorts... the insects often must die. particularly my favorites. some hibernate but disappear from my world... and others do not. like the preying mantis. i saw one yesterday, injured, but whether by aggression or cool temperatures i do not know. but she limped, struggled, and when i attempted to move her from pavement to shrubbery 'put up her dukes' and prepared to fight. she was beautiful, with wings that would not close and mid-section legs that would not work. i moved her to the shrub with my sheets unfinished songs bundled to make a firmer tool. she held on but dropped as i moved her to the vegetation, requiring further prodding on my part to attempt to right her. i know it may be a futile effort, but i wanted, and hoped, that if i just set her up into a defensible position she would make it. even through the winter.


now, about Camus. the only thing i really remember from The Stranger was the scene where he kills 'the arab.' i don't remember that they had interacted before. i remember no details, save something about his mother, and that one scene, where he is driven mad by the heat. perhaps i was driven mad by the obtuse writing and truly connected to the work at that point. but often, when the heat is so hot, so humid, and i have been without respite even at night, i remember that scene.

L'Shana Tova!

today's workplace conversation

Vin Diesel is:
The Atoned

Orthodox Zombies have never been so sexy.

that's weird

somehow my timezone became pacific. not that i have anything against the pacific timezone, just that i don't live there. in fact, i've never been there. in fact, i've never even driven through or flown over there. i don't think i even have relatives there. the closest i get is a guy that i used to be in a band with moved there, and one of my friends used to live there. oh, pacific time!

the neverending wearynesssss, whoa whoa...

...whoaoh oh whatever. i'm done tahrred out. a move and all the things such a move involves plus painting and both my parents for two days, then a 12 hour day at work, now a meeting to tell the guy that isn't doing his job that he needs to do his job...

a co-worker suggested, after i commented on my desire for not needing to have this meeting, the office crowbar. it seems so tempting right now, an hour and 15 minutes away from this sit-down. because my spidey-sense tells me it will be much anxiety on my part, a nicey-nice talk, and then more of the same b.s.

i guess i'm too tired to be optimistic right now.

Viva La Cuddle Party!

just an example of a regular occurrence in my life: i'm sitting at work, reading the internet or a story in our paper or something else, and a word triggers a song in my head. but not just any song. it's a Cuddle Party song.

today it was "Burn Piñata (Burn Burn Piñata-yata)."

someday both halves of Cuddle Party will reside within 50 miles of each other again, and the world will know wicked-cute rocking once more.

someday...

Who's got pajamas?

Impressive.

i didn't think there was a way to make the "dogs playing poker" art any better, but i saw it. at the art shop in springfield mall. how do you make "dogs playing poker" even better? add flashing LED lights.

Oh yes.

where you at?

that's right, kids. show no grammatical mercy!

My Career Plan

apparently, i have been employing the wrong strategy for my career, valuing and rewarding my employees and all. time to turn over a new leaf!

Critters!

Sneaky Squirrel!


and the bunny i saw yesterday (phone picture):

It is a Sad, Sad Day.

i don't want to believe this, but it's true.

for the longest time, my dream job has been to work at the Weekly World News. but now my dreams are shattered. sure, sure, they'll have an online edition, but it's not the same. retouching photos for screen display at 72 dpi isn't as meaningful as getting that alien shadow *just so* on a tabloid-size 300dpi image.

i was already bummed out about the temples on Tisha B'Av, and now this. if you need me, i'll be curled up in bed with a pint of Ben & Jerry's.

Customer "Service" Update

so i called George back an hour later. to his credit, he answered the phone. the first email they sent me was supposed to be sent to someone else (thus, it made no sense). fine. then things went downhill.

see, George tried to convince me it was my fault they printed wrong. i was half agreeing with him, actually, because their site isn't very user friendly and i didn't scroll down, thus making it my 'fault'... but i half didn't agree because their site isn't clear, for one thing, and they don't specify a couple things that made a difference. so i'm thinking, ok, lesson learned, George will give me a refund....

WAIT! NO! he's still trying to tell me it's totally my fault. i explain to him i sent the file exactly as they specified, and since they don't explain their 'instant proof' process, the reason it f*ed up, that it's not really my fault... and then it gets worse. because George tries to tell me vector files have resolution.

now, i have been doing my job for nearly 10 years. if there is one thing i am certain of (and probably there is only one thing), it is that i know how to do my job. i have never had a job print wrong due to my error. i know my files. i know the difference between vector and raster.

i don't know how long the phone call went on, but i do know this: even if the customer's wrong, for less than $50 you can explain why their head is up their ass and still make them happy by offering a credit or refund. BEFORE they spend time and patience arguing with you on the phone. because what's better, a few bucks, or a customer that keeps ordering with you and spreads the word?

don't get me angry, George. you won't like it when i'm angry.

i finally did get the credit. being a bitch can really pay off.

How Did i Miss This?

Brilliant Cat.


And the same (or very similar) Cat at Work.

Customer "Service" and "Quality" Control

you all know where this is heading. please, permit me to rant a bit about a topic that has (more than likely) touched everyone personally.

Customer "Service."

here's my frustrating little tale. i ordered business cards for my company on the internets. see, my company (those of you who know who i work for save your obvious jokes) is too cheap to have something like a business credit card. so instead of spending $55 + shipping for 500 business cards (that's 11¢ a card before shipping) at the place that lets us have an account, i decide to pay for some less expensive cards and put in an expense report for them. silly me.

i am a designer and production artist. it is what i do. it is what i have done, for a living, for nearly 10 years now. i'm pretty good. i prepared a file and uploaded it.
the cards they sent came out wrong (i will not bore ya'll non-designers with details). i check my file. it's correct. i call customer service. they tell me to write "Quality" Control (the folks of which are obviously not doing their job). i do. they offer a nearly nonsensical explanation, complete with grammatical errors. i write telling them this (not the grammar part). they tell me to call "Quality" Control, specifically a man named George Kelli. the email telling me this is also full of grammatical mistakes and appears to be written by someone who has English as his or her second language.

their business hours are 8am to 5pm pacific. i call at 8:10 pacific/11:10 eastern. a lady named Lynette answers at Customer Service. i tell her i would like to reach George, and she puts me on hold and then disconnects me.

i call again. this time a lady named Jaime answers. Jaime puts me on hold and comes back to tell me George is not in. also, he does not have a direct outside extension so everytime i call George, i must go through Customer "Service." Jaime transfers me to George's voice mail, where i leave a curt message explaining the situation, and give him my office and cell numbers.

now, i know George won't call me back. i will be SHOCKED if George calls me back. i will be even more shocked if this is resolved to my satisfaction. so i will have to go through Customer "Service" several times today alone attempting to reach him -- maybe if i fill his voice mail he will get back to me -- probably only to get reprints but have to pay additional shipping (IF i'm lucky).

also, in the second "Quality" Control email, they put in this line "Unfortunately, if we do not receive a reply within five (5) business days of this email being sent, we will not be able to further accommodate you in regards to this issue."

what do i get if George doesn't contact me in five days?

bastards.

Surprisingly Lifelike

i got it here.

The Month In Review

actually, that's not true. i know i haven't written for a month, but it's been a crazy busy month, and i just don't feel like going into it. so i'll just go on about this weekend.

The Perfect End to The Perfect Party

that's not true, either. the party i went to wasn't perfect. but it was pretty good.
see, i'm in this band, aubriot. and the guitarist/songwriter of aubriot knows one of the hosts, and she has been to our shows, and so i was invited.

it was a pretty big party which i think is good when you don't know anyone. makes it easier to kind of lose yourself. i had these terrible bacardi flavored drinks in bottles and the first one tried to kill me by having broken glass at the top. but maybe it only happened that way because i'm a pansy and instead of actually twisting off the twist-off cap i assumed it needed an opener... my poor little hands :)

there was a british guy who was loud and obnoxious in that intelligentsia literary way, the way only people with useless english degrees can be obnoxious. he was fun. my friend stole his lighter.

there was also a cat who, and i am not shitting you on this, was named Rock Star. the small group i had found to socialize with was out back, in the alley (one of those alleys where there are garages and parking for the houses), and late in the evening here comes Rock Star, lovin' on all the ladies' legs. he snuck up on the girl i was talking to and made her jump by walking through her legs without so much as a how-do-you-do. we lavished attention on him, this cat that had the big tom cat face but just wanted to be pet and have his tummy rubbed... a pretty boy with no visible signs of being in fights, no tattered ears, no patchy fur, no limp... he was lovable and loving and my friend went inside and took shrimp from the hors d'oeuvres table and brought it to Rock Star. turned out Rock Star wouldn't eat it unless we broke it into small pieces.

because he's a Rock Star, duh.

Rock Star got about half a dozen shrimp over the course of the evening. eventually i left. i had had a few but was by no means drunk, or even really tipsy... it was nearly 4am and i was tired...

while driving from woodley park to get to the 14th street bridge, i got in a car accident. it was awesome for a couple reasons. one, i have not been in an multi-car accident before -- i rear-ended someone lightly once, and my car has slid off the road, but this was my first time getting rear-ended by more than a light tap. it's awesome because it's surprising. because you have that little bit of time to think before your car hits the car in front of you and it's all confusion. because the change in the little 'ash tray' of my car popped out and scattered about. because the tape in my tape deck removed itself.

and then i'm like, uh, ok. before i could think of getting out, the fellow in the car in front of me was out and coming by asking if i was ok. turns out he's ex-marine, driving his marine lady-friend back to base. the girls behind us were marines, as well -- at least one of them. the drunk passenger was having a freak out, then later the driver started having a freak out. they were nice but a little emotional.

the 5-0 were there pretty much immediately. what happened was, a taxi stopped short at a corner, the car behind taxi stopped, i stopped, girls stopped... guy behind girls didn't stop in time. everyone was pissed at the taxi, because it's one of those universal injustices -- the guy who REALLY caused the accident isn't even legally at fault. i can't (by my nature) be all "the law is SO B.S." because i understand why it's now the nice young man who apologized behind us all's fault... but still.

i hate DC taxis.

anyway, the car is fine. V-dubs rock that way. i've got some bumper damage but it's less than my deductible, so i won't be getting it fixed. it's just dents, anyway, not even cracks or breaks. everyone else was ok (freak-outs aside), but the girl behind us did have her muffler jostled loose and had to call a tow truck.

i was furious the rest of the night.

pretty good party, anyway.

The Busker, Part II

i've officially made more busking than i did in Vegas.

last weekend's two-hour take was $29. combined with my $6 initial experience, that makes $35. even if you don't count the money i put in to win at slots (that is, my actual losses), i only got $34 payout.

i made up a song about mango ice cream, and another one about butterflies, and a peruvian man and his translator told me all about god. i also got to meet a man carving a hiking stick and another busker, Curtis. Curtis has a kick drum/hi-hat set up along with his guitar, and he does them good ol' down south blues. he's good, and nice. he dropped a couple bucks in my case a little while after directing me to a good spot to set up.

so... i think i'm hooked. practicing guitar, getting paid for it, no pressure of a show... yeah. i like busking.

Tennis Kicks My Butt!

seriously. my ass is sore today from an hour of 'tennis' yesterday. i put that in quote marks cos if you ever see me play, the only resemblance to the actual sport you would see is that i hold a racquet and there is a round yellow ball.

but it was fun! i managed to eke out a string of maybe five returns against my opponent, a personal best. and my opponent NEVER misses. that wall is one tough customer!

The Little Things Make You Feel Special

as summer approaches (it already feels like it's here), the trees become lush and green, and parkways and walks become a cool respite from the blazing sun. and in this shifting pattern of dark greens and bright drops of sunlight, little tufts of plant matter drift softly like the seeds of dandelions, fluffy and buff-coloured, catching the light and making the path feel full of magic.

even when the day is hot and you're sweating through your work clothes and there are too many things to do and too many people to contact, it's good to let a little child-like magic slip in. you don't even have to stop (like smelling the roses). just notice, while you're on your way. it's the little things that often make the big things worth it.

like a cat curling up by your side. or a bird singing outside your window.

The Busker

i am now officially a busker.

i went out on Memorial Day, about 3pm, to Old Town Alexandria to hawk my audio wares, and made something like $6. i say something like because i didn't count the money (it's still in my guitar case). that said, i think i played for something like 15 minutes total, and was out for maybe an hour or so.

see, i'm too chicken to just go busk. so i went with my friend Brian. Brian is a magician. a good magician. he's busked before. his first day out this year, the saturday before Memorial Day, he was out for about 8 hours, alternating acts with a couple other magicians. he balked at his measely take for the whole day, but i didn't tell him that he made more per hour than i do at my day job, before taxes. i guess when you're used to making several hundred dollars for a night's work, the less than $300 he made for a full day's work of slight-of-hand and yelling seemed paltry.

so your yellow-striped blogger ventured out with guitar, chair and book of songs, set up very near her magician friend, and proceeded to play only when he was in between acts.

i immediately got a buck. it was from this nice woman who hung around for a little while and talked to me between songs. i gave her a Bette Noir card (gotta remember to carry those with me). i also immediately got a request for "Bobby McGee." some of you may know how much i hate this song. the hate that wasn't even derived from having to sing it too much, the hate that comes from just really not liking a song.

i played it. for a buck.

remember that joke, where the punchline is "we've determined what you are, madam, now we are just haggling over price"?

but i had fun, and i'll do it again. i'm less afraid. because if i suck, people will just walk by. or perhaps give me money in pity. i bet having a few extra dollars to spend will help the pride go down easy.

i already have some changes planned to my approach, too. because next time, i won't be out there to get my feet wet, or hang out with my friend. next time, i'm in it for the money.

that said, what do you like to see in a busker? what makes you fish that crumpled dollar out of your pocket or purse and drop it in an open guitar case?

The Bees's Kneeses

First this, the story of what i've been calling the Bee Holocaust... although maybe it's the Bee Rapture...


and now this, perhaps a Suicide Bee Attack.


Besides the obvious questions, the lead on the second link makes me wonder -- how did they know they were British bees? Did they dance with an accent? Were they singing "God Save the Queen"?

BA DUM DUM!

BUNNIEEEEESSSSS!

i go for occasional work-day walks down a little trail that falls between two suburban streets... on either side is someone's backyard, lush and green in the springtime. it's shady and pretty (wild strawberries!) and perfect for a walk, even if it is very short (12 minutes from the office door to the end of the trail). the trail actually continues on, but it's not as pretty or shady, so i always turn around.

two days ago i was on my little jaunt, coming back up the trail, when i saw a bunny. CUTE! the bunny was hanging out by some shrubby bushes or bushy shrubs or whatever one would call the low-lying plant life that's thick enough to harbor a squirrel or other small rodent (bunny!). i was a ways off, so the bunny was mostly just a shape. it hopped in my direction, then off into the brush... then another bunny followed behind it! kinda like they were playing tag.

as i approached, a bunny (bunny one? bunny two? additional, so far unseen bunny?) hopped out of the brush and sat looking at a bird (a brown thrush, i think, but for those of you familiar with the nuthatch/wren incident, i won't mind if you don't believe me). the bird was being birdy, pecking and pulling at something, possibly a bit of plant life it desired for its nest. bunny sat and watched and then hopped into the brush.

then the best part happened -- a bunny came out of the brush HOPPING DIRECTLY AT ME. i was even afraid for a moment that it might be rabid (rabid rabbit). it veered off course at the last minute, going back into the brush alongside the trail... and ANOTHER BUNNY FOLLOWED IT, HOPPING DIRECTLY TOWARDS ME. like they were playing tag! but this one spooked a little further away, and stopped and looked at me.

the bird, for those of you who care, has decided to hang out a little higher off the ground and flitted to the top of a small fence just behind the brush.

after the bunny stopped, it made a sudden start and veered toward the brush... then stopped... then darted off, into the brush.

so, i wonder -- one really fast bunny? or two pretty fast really playful bunnies? or a horde of bunnies, frolicking one after another, watching birdy bunny buddies?

i like the last thought.

ROSCOE

i have a new favorite band, and the best part is, they're local!

Their name is Roscoe, and they're awesome.

OK, first of all, i met Roscoe when they were looking for a band to fill a bill at DC9. Bette Noir accepted, Roscoe accepted Bette Noir, and that was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

We went to see them pre-shared gig at Laughing Lizard, and they were (as Tony the Tiger says) Grrrrreat! High-energy, friendly, and good, popaltcountryrock songs. I was impressed.

Then came time for our shared gig at DC9. No one came. I mean, me and Roscoe showed up, and about 7 people for Roscoe, and no one else. Bette Noir played second, and the Roscoe boys were cool enough to stay, cos if they hadn't, we'd have been playing for the bartender. Seriously. It was that bad.

Speaking of bad, we didn't exactly play our best, either. But in their awesome way, Roscoe invited us to play Laughing Lizard with them. And we did (and we were a helluva lot better, btw). And they were fantastic, again. We laughed, we cried, we complained about musicians. Andy from Roscoe said the sweetest thing: "I forgot how good you guys are." And i was like, aw, we weren't! that's why you didn't remember! But i didn't say that out loud.

Now you must go see Roscoe, because they're cool, and the music is cool and highly dance-able, even if you dance like a rabid monkey like me.

Check out their website, but you need to go see them live for reals.

bird is the word

i almost hit a mourning dove several days ago. i was driving along the parkway, and it flew in front of the car. i had enough notice that i slowed down, but i certainly couldn't slam on my brakes due to traffic. the bird was at windshield level when our paths intersected. it tumbled, head over tail, up my windshield without actually connecting, and presumably recovered and flew off (i didn't see any carnage in the rear-view mirror).

* * * * *

a similar incident occurred a few days later. a sparrow darted in front of my car. i had no warning, so i couldn't slow. i didn't feel or hear any impact, but i also haven't looked at the front of my car. i'm sure it made it out ok.

i won big in vegas!

if by big you mean $29 and by won you mean lost.

no, seriously, i DID win! $29! it was awesome!

so the trip was exhausting, non-stop, on planes and in casinos and up and down the strip and monorails (Monorail? Monorail! i hear those things are awfully loud...).

but i won't bore you with deets. i'll skip to the good stuff. first night- bed IMMEDIATELY. it's 2hr 45min from DC to Houston, another 2.5hr to Las Vegas. sitting around is exhausting.

next day, a little electronic slots action at my hotel, the Sahara. put in $5. i was up $2.50, but i lost it. went down to $2.75 when i hit the jackpot. or something. i don't actually understand the slot machines, because you can win on not just a straight-across combo. when the thing finally stopped dinging, i was up to $34. that's when i got my ticket and cashed out.

and that was it. i played, i won. that was all i needed from the vegas casinos. i did play some more slots & video poker & blackjack the next morning, before we had to leave for the airport, at Mandalay Bay. lost all the dollars i put in. i think the high point of my winnings for that stint was like 50 cents. which is funny, because at the "cheap" casino i was winning more. so i think, just gambling totals, i netted like $20. of course, i spent $15 on monorail, and $40 on cabs, and god knows how much on food... but all in all, not bad. i got what i came for. i saw vegas.

My Nails are DONE

Shelly, my waxy friend from Taiwan, just red-ed up my nails real good. actually, not REAL good -- it's not the best mani-pedi i ever got. but it's not the worst either, and it's definitely acceptable. the real reason i'm a sucker for Shelly is she's so unlike those catty little asian girls at the strip-mall joints i usually frequent. because instead of shaking her head and tsking my nail-biting, or asking if i need an eyebrow wax fifty times, or pushing my feet and hands around, she's nice. really. we talk, but we also don't talk, and she points out good things. like, my eyebrows look fine. or i have high arches. she doesn't make me feel ashamed i'm a nail-biter (and she had one mess to work on today).
and this, to me, is what makes a good person to go to for all those girly things.

i Suck.

completing the trilogy of suckiness, i got my new phone activated (required *calling* Verizon, entering my phone # about 30 times, and waiting to and then talking to a real live person). i promptly dropped it.

it survived, a little scratched.

if i recall correctly, that is exactly what happened with my last phone.

Verizon, You Suck.

it's hour 13 and my new phone, that i bought at the Verizon Store, still is not working.
i got the phone at 9:30 last night. all was going well 'til my Verizon helper monkey tried to activate it. since it was closing time, he gave me a number to dial, and a story about switches and such-and-such and told me it shouldn't be more than 20 minutes.
it still doesn't work.
now, i'm really tired and i don't want to go back to Verizon or even CALL Verizon and complain. but it's getting to that point. and God help the helper monkey who gets my complaint.

i need a nap, but i'll settle for a working phone.

Oh, You People SUCK!

i was about to blog and rave about my new favorite place to eat. the food is delicious, but on top of that, they have a serious sense of humour. all the names of the menu items are movie or tele references... ok, not that original or cool, sure. but most of their references, if not put in context with a few you recognize, you would never know were movie/tv references. like, say, johnny coctostan. or the triple lindy.

i was going to tell you all how totally awesome this place was, except -- i went to their website, and found out they're having a contest to CHANGE THE NAMES OF THEIR ITEMS.

hey, here's an idea! take the quirkiest, most stand-out thing about your place, the thing that people who aren't in on the joke won't care about, but people who are in on the joke will possibly adore and thus form brand loyalty, and CHANGE IT.

i'll still mention their name, because after two burritos and a quesadilla there, i really think they're one of the best 'fast-food' tex mex joints around. but i'm still sorely disappointed with you, Moe's.

i finally saw Saturday Night Fever!!!

or, at least, part of it.

and it SUCKED!!!

well, ok, that's not really a surprise. i mean, seriously, who sits down to SNF thinking, gee, this is one of the landmark movies of our time? not i. i didn't even know the "plot." i use the term VERY loosely... but really, now, did it even need a plot? i think not. i think it was a movie of a time, with a man and a woman, and lots of hideous, vomit-inducing fashion which was popular once. it's a time-capsule. and proof that john travolta should never, ever, ever been given another part ever again. ok, except in Pulp Fiction.

i gleaned all this information from approximately 15 minutes of Saturday Night Fever. that was all i could take before i could feel the bile rising in my throat.

for those of you unwilling or, more likely, unable to sit through this atrocity, the 'story' is something like this: john travolta is a paint-store clerk in brooklyn. he likes dancing. he hangs out with a group of guys and his dance partner is some chick who he likes but who doesn't like him. tony (travolta) hangs out at discos as his escape from his troubling/mundane life.

um, that's about all the plot i know, cos, like i said, i saw fifteen minutes.

i watched that much because i was waiting for the dancing. i really, truly wanted to see the awesome disco dancing i understood was in this movie. i sat through 15 minutes to see one dance scene.

it. was. awful.

see, there was a dance-off competition, and they showed like three couples dancing. one couple was fine. there was a hispanic couple who mostly tore it up -- not the best dancing i've seen but better than i could do (but i'm only half-hispanic). then there was tony and his broad. they danced to some slow-ish song, and i'm no choreographer, but it was L.A.M.E. i cannot even describe the Lameness that was.

i will be more than happy to demonstrate for anyone. just ask when you see me.

so i didn't watch any more. because Saturday Night Fever is now just another disappointment.

damn you, pop culture!

Don't you feed me lines about some idealistic future...

... your heart won't heal right if you keep tearing out the sutures.

Me and My Wardrobe

last night i had this dream -- actually, i had several that i remember, but this was one -- where i was hanging around this cool clothes store, and there was this dress. it was kinda like really soft vinyl or really thin leather, and it was red and black. it was sort of a halter, having no sleeves and held up by the neck, and the red was a stripe down the middle. and i thought, that dress is so cool, i wonder if i'd look good in it. but then i looked at the price tag and it was $308. so i didn't try it on... but i really wanted it, so i kept thinking about it...
i woke up before i could leave the store or try it on. i bet i woulda rocked it.

Giggity!

ok, so i did ok at the gig. :)

in fact, it went really well! the guys in aubriot are good, and it was good to play with them. sound was surprisingly good for Grog & Tankard, as well. and a lot of peeps came out, and showed their love with applause, and there was a photog there, and all-in-all it was pretty exciting, in that calm exiciting kind of way.

i showed up almost on time, and the guys at Grog recognized me. i'm getting to be a regular there with my new bands always needing a place to cut their performance teeth, and the Grog always obliging. the door man (i keep asking his name and forgetting it... reggie? he looks like a reggie.) is fond of telling me how much i rock, even when the band i'm in stinks.

matt was already there when i arrived, so i pulled up and we loaded in the goods. he tells me there's a metal band on before us, but they'll be done by 9ish -- as long as it doesn't mess with our start time i'm fine. then i drove off to find my parking space, approximatelly 6.7 miles away.

so for a while i stood outside smoking (thank god for nice weather in the face of the damn DC smoking ban). i couldn't tell you if they were a good metal band or not, actually, cos i don't really know about these things. i believe their name was Lysergic Cross. the screamer was very angsty and occasionally sang a line or two, which were mostly inaudible against the backdrop of Marshalls, China Crashes and Screaming Guitars.

But No, Seriously! They were Very Loud.

after they cleaned up the excess Lysergy, we set up and did a quick sound check. Then we took a brief break (not even half an American Spirit cig) and went on.

now on to my critique of my performance. as usual, everyone else's performance was good :)

while my guitaring leaves a little to be desired (more on that later), my voice was actually in good shape. it only did a funny little break, once, and that was early in the set, so hopefully everyone forgot it by the time we were done. also, i had to ad lib some lines because the songs are new, and i had literally just written some lyrics that week. but i pulled off some stuff (i think) that i hadn't managed in practice, so i was pretty psyched.

since i don't ever play guitar with a capo, i promptly forgot to capo for the first song, and matt had to remind me. mostly my guitaring was ok, if a little stilted, and i didn't hit many off chords. the vox came through -- i was really worried about being heard because it's such a little amp but i cranked it and immediately turned it down. it really does go up to eleven.

i forgot to capo for the last song, too, so my first chord sounded like this: "WRANNNGGGGGAAAAAAASS!!!!!" pretty awesome. two hits and i realized it was all wrong, so i just turned the volume down on my guitar to try and look like i was still playing but not completely ass up the joint. i think i pulled it off, managing to appear only mildly constipated as i continued singing. i figured out what happened after a few bars, but was unable to compute a save whilst still singing... so i left it on 'mute.'

i also got to tell a joke, my favorite joke. you know the one.

maybe i'll get some pictures of the gig soon.

Gig Jitters

i wish the jitters were as fun to have as they are to say...
aubriot has a gig, our first gig, tonight, and i'm getting nervous, of course. it's not that i don't think i can sing and/or play guitar. it's just... i get nervous, and i forget things, and then i get more nervous about forgetting things...

everyone says i'll be fine, and i probably will. i admit it is getting easier -- or at least i'm getting tired of getting nervous. it's certainly easier for me to get on stage in a play, as a character. but as me, it's harder. and there are three good musicians up there with me, and i don't want to be the weak link.

i really am afraid to fail.

I Hope This Works

i've been doing some work for a local magician and all-around nice guy, Brian Curry. which is pretty keen, cos it's fun to do freelance work for someone you like and who is easy-going.

first i did a logo for his 'company,' Magic & Mischief. then i did some flyers and a couple postcards. it was neat when he got a call the very next day after mailing a postcard i designed for his new school show. i mean, sure, it was prolly the show and not the postcard that got the call, but at least they read it!

i mentioned that my paper was running a special section, a Bar/Bat Mitzvah Planner, since he does B'nai Mitzvah work. he decided to run an ad, and i put him in touch with one of our sales reps. i really thought at first (not knowing the ad prices) that the ads would be more than his promotional budget would allow, but the next thing i knew, he was in for a quarter page ad (pretty big) and full colour.

and then i designed it for him.

either of these two circumstances, by themselves, would be fine. but the fact that i kind of 'sold' him the ad and i designed it is making me nervous. so i really really really really really really really hope he at least gets some calls, if not a booking. because otherwise i'll feel L.A.M.E.

so if you know anyone planning a bar or bat mitzvah, hook me up, aight?

I'm Gonna Pay for This.

so it has been decided Sylvia needs a collar, due to her penchant for running out the door. she really really really likes to roll around on the concrete (ah, the inscrutable ways of the feline) and will often just dart outside when you open the door.
so i went to target yesterday, and got her two presents. one was a laser pointer, cos the batteries had died in her old one. the other was a collar. but not just any collar. it's shiny purple, with rhinestones... and a bell.

at first she got annoyed, then it didn't look like she knew she had it on, or cared. but i think she does. she's behaving a little differently. the bell startles her when she moves. she's all wound up, tweaked out. and she looks ridiculous. she might be embarrassed.

so i decided to take pictures:






Look at that cute little bell!




































and those magical, stylish rhinestones!

Mmmm, Waxy!

Shelly, the nice older Taiwanese lady, waxed me up something good. i think i expect too much from waxing, though, as i'm always disappointed with the results. but Shelly was good, so maybe i'll keep trying.
the real reason i like Shelly, tho, is that she asked about my eyebrows, and when i said, no, i don't get them waxed, i think she said, no, they look good, you don't need to wax them. a vast improvement from the usual line i get from manicurists --
them: "you need wax eyebrows?"
me: "no, thanks."
them: "sure?"
me: "no, really."

later,
them: "you want eyebrow wax?"
me: "no, thanks."

i always feel they're hinting. but i like my eyebrows. i think i do a decent job on them. i don't want them waxed. i try to console myself with the thought that they are just upselling. but, as a blossoming girly-girl, i can't help but feel a little self-conscious.

so Shelly is for me, for all my grooming needs, from now on. plus, she's right next door to where i work.

Best Thing i saw today

a little bird, with a bit of grey fluff in his mouth. maybe he was off to build a nest with it. maybe he was going to knit a little birdy beanie cap. either way, he was cute.

braaaaaaaaaiiinnnnssss! or, blooooood! whatever you got.

so i had the wick-ed-est dream the other night -- i drempt me and frank were out bustin' up some zombies! considering i usually have lame-ass dreams about things like standing in line for ice cream, this one certainly tops the charts on My Awesome Dreams List.

it plays like this. we open on a scene, frank and me in a car. i'm in the passenger seat. there's a corpse in the back, some guy looking all horror-film blue, hanging forward with mouth agape. i say something like, "Are you sure he's really dead?" Of course at that moment dead dude starts moaaaaning. frank turns to punch him, but he's driving, so i say i'll do it. i hit Mr. Corpse a few times, but apparently even in dreams my punching power is nil, so i only succeed in keeping him slightly stunned. but he starts to get a little friskier, and soon he's trying to bite my fingers and frank's shoulder. lucky for us he's a Zombie Of Poor Jaw Strength and manages to not break skin... but who knows how long he will remain weakened! frank turns (while still driving) and knocks him out before he can zombify one or both of us.

suddenly we're in a kind of barn house thing... i want to call it a road house, because it's all rough like a barn but outfitted for people habitation. also, there's a giant pool table. at the pool table are a couple country yokel-types, and it seems frank and i know them, at least marginally. and they're all telling us they're not zombies, and what zombies? we didn't see no zombies! except we know they're lying, and sure enough, out of the GIANT double doors at the end of the room drifts Mr. King Of The Zombies. except he's a zombie vampire. or something.

at this point the zombies have all become zombie vampires or vampire zombies.

Mr. Zompire (or Vambie, if you prefer) is suave, debonair, and not attacking. No, he's too cool for that. and also, he has two dogs, a wheaton terrier and a giant affenpinscher (ears cropped). We talk to him for a little while, then make our exit, hoping he won't pursue.

After a brief trip through what looks like Tara post-war (i shall nevah go hungreh again!), we end up in a deserted house. it has some resident zompires but we kick their butts with what i think is powdered lye or a similar grainy corrosive. there are also other non-zombie/vampire people in the house, and we join forces with them, organizing our resistance, with the house as our headquarters.

and that's where the dream ends... very cinematic, i think...

the shouting box of cate meyers is the sky!

http://lastfm.excite.co.jp/music/Cate+Meyers

use the google translation tool to read the engrish version!

Word. Up.

i cannot be fagged to deal with myspace blogging. for reals. because a) my best girly friend cannot read it at work and b) all other peoples on earth CAN read it.
not that blogger is private, it's just harder to find unless, say, i tell you about it.
so feel special, i guess :)

-----------------

i just wasted half my work day doing blogger stuff and reading other blogs and stuff, so i don't have time right now to actually blog about what i want to blog about, which is totally the dream that i totally had that totally for reals was about fightin' zombies. it. was. awesome.

oh yeah, and i'm thinking i'll start my own business. could be fun. could be a waste of resources. time will tell.