Hi everyone! I'm at the TPT studios again and it's Saturday night and I'm at theTPT studios again on a Saturday night because...please don't make me think about why that is, I'll get depressed. Anyhoo, I'd like to proceed through the next three hours by providing you with a synopsis of the evening.
6:00pm: Pizza arrives. I was hoping for Oriental, Vietnamese in particular.
6:15pm: Anyone parked outside is asked to go move their cars into the ramp that had a sign saying to pay upon entry but you're supposed to know to just drive around it and go in anyways. This is something I didn't do so my car was outside. I sprinted up two and a half blocks UP HILL in the POURING RAIN and moved my car. It then stopped raining.
7:00pm Penn and I attempt to sit next to each other but our headphones don't work when we're next to each other. Now I realize that this may sound strange but I have a studio full of witnesses to verify that when we called each other we couldn't hear anything. Thank goodness we were sitting next to each other so the conversation went on for much longer than some people would have liked. I was going to call Penn's extension of 1752 but it was apparently too close to my extension of 1755 which is what I entered and then proceeded to inform him that I was getting a busy signal. I then realized my faux pas stating "Oh, I'm calling myself!" which got me a round of applause from the other losers here with me. I mean that in a loving way because we're all laughing quite hard. Some of the exchanges included:
"I can't hear you"
"You can't?"
"No"
"Can I hear you now?" (Yes, I actually asked him if I could hear him)
"No, it's not working. I'm not hearing anything. I'm going to have to use my hand"
7:15pm: Penn switched chairs but the new chair was too low so instead of grabbing the cushions off of the previous chair, he switched the actual chairs and caused chaos because we don't have a lot of room to make furniture arrangements.
7:41pm: Penn wants a raise.
7:46pm The producer reviews the "funnel cloud" signal with us and tells us that the "safe zone" is in the hall so when we get the funnel cloud finger movement we are to run into the hallway. Also, the talent/phone bank wrangler, Mike, sits between Penn and I trying to fix our headsets and quickly regrets his decision. He's had to deal with a popcorn machine catching fire, a tornado warning, phones not working, and now us. He wants to go home.
7:49pm: The fucking puppet gets the camera time.
7:52pm: We start clapping at nothing in particular and make all the production and talent people come flying back into the studio thinking they slipped into a time warp and were now due on the air. We pat ourselves on the back for a job well done.
7:54 pm: No phone ringing yet from an actual pledge person.
7:56pm: I suddenly want to yell out "A PLEDGE PIN??!! ON YOUR UNIFORM!!"
7:57pm: The talent makes a comment about the women at festival wanting to know what's under the kilts. Penn then gets a call from someone saying they're highly offended by that comment. Penn wants to know "Why baby? Don't you like dick?" Don't worry, he didn't say it to the caller because she hung up before anything really great could be said to her.
8:02pm: Got my first call and sold tickets then Tom Keenan came over to sit in between Penn and I. I feel sorry for him but he does have a good sense of humor so he'll hopefully be okay. Earlier in the evening, Tom was trying to get in and needed someone to hit the security button to open the door and Penn shut the shade on him. This is making for awkward conversation.
8:13pm: New joke: What did the 0 say to the 8? Nice belt.
8:24pm: Another ticket sale. See, we're offering two tickets at the $240 level. Facinating, isn't it? I'm really wishing that I would have gotten my crap together and brought in some wine glasses to promote the wine show. If they can have a fucking puppet, I should be able to have wine. It's only fair.
8:32pm: I just warned Tom Keenan that he shouldn't be fooling around by moving the troll to the top of the wall behind us. It's so unprofessional to be fooling around here.
8:40pm: Stevie Ray Vaughn will be on Tuesday, June 10th and I'm saying this because he can play a tune or two.
8:47pm: I just sold the $600 level including tickets, a CD and DVD. I think someone is getting ripped off.
9:03pm: COOKIES!!!!!
9:16pm: Seat change. Tom is now out. Corey Loebs is now in. Fine. Whatever. Corey is fun too. He sat down and immediately started talking about Underdog. This is much more fun. Plus, Steve Miller is now on.
9:26pm: Got a call from someone who wanted to say that the drummer and bass player in the Steve Miller Band are from Minnesota and while I was doing that, I looked up and noticed I was on TV so I stuck my tongue out (it was really a reflex). I've also noticed that my chest is sparkly. The powder didn't start out to be sparkly but it turned after I was out in the rain. Now my cleavage is twinkling at you. Jennifer, sitting next to me, said that she rubbed her nose earlier when the camera was on her and she wanted to clarify that she WAS NOT picking her nose, only rubbing it.
9:33pm: Wishing we could have Guinness in the studio.
9:44pm: Snuck water into the studio and now have it between my legs. They feed us but they don't let us drink anything. It's a kind of mind control. Creepy.
10:12pm: Almost quittin' time and so I will now end after having lost four games of solitare.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Friday, May 30, 2008
Where are the Road Warriors when you need them?
This weekend is chock full of activities including the requirements of donning garb which serves to remind me once again how I will not be ready for the fest season. I'll still show up on the first day with pins everywhere instead of a properly sewn and laced waistband.
If you have no plans on Saturday night, tune into PBS channel 2 where I will be manning the phones during a little show called Celtic Thunder which looks ridiculous to me. It will include a group of males ranging in age from 2 to 86 wearing ear phone/microphone combo's so they don't have to manage two complicated things at once like holding something and saying something. Every now and then they'll throw their fists into the air to remind us that the Irish are still oppressed. Of course, I could be totally wrong and it could turn out to be a good show.
Sunday will be my first parade in above-mentioned halfass garb. I'm just looking for some exercise and some food books. Hopefully I won't get sunburned.
Tonight, of course, is the much anticipated PunchOut! show where I think I've convinced a co-worker and another friend to go. When I start describing the show, people are interested but when I get to the part about how it starts at 11pm and they start to whine. Maybe I'm just working and hanging around too many old people. All of the trash talking between the two groups is getting me hot. Is that wrong? I grew up with professional wrestling so whenever two or more guys get all puffy-chested with each other my eyes get big and I start to drool.
Fight practice went very well yesterday, even in the rain. David got us through the whole scene so now all Missy and I have to do is do it over and over and over and over and over and over.......you get the idea. While trying to figure out how Roma was going to be made a fool of, we fell into the Robin Hood Daffy Duck cartoon:
"I'll trick him with my quarter staff! Actually, it's a buck and a quarter quarter staff but I'm not going to tell him that." When you're actually working with a stick, that line is funny. The tree swinging has got to be one of the best Chuck Jones moments next to the little angry Martian and his Illudium Q-36 Explosive Space Modulator, except that Fritz Frehling may have done that one. Oh well, it's all Bugs Bunny and it's sad that you can no longer watch it on Saturday mornings.
I want to go kayaking. Right now. It's too late to call in sick to work, I'm already here. I'll have to plan it for next weekend since I'll already be booked with walking, drooling, and watching puffy chests this weekend. I think I'll stash a trolling motor in my kayak. See, there's this particularly treacherous section of the St. Croix close to the Osceola bridge between two islands where the currents start pulling in a few different directions. It'd be nice to just pull out the motor for a hundred yards just to get through it. I bet I'd be the only one, therefore it would make me unique.
If you have no plans on Saturday night, tune into PBS channel 2 where I will be manning the phones during a little show called Celtic Thunder which looks ridiculous to me. It will include a group of males ranging in age from 2 to 86 wearing ear phone/microphone combo's so they don't have to manage two complicated things at once like holding something and saying something. Every now and then they'll throw their fists into the air to remind us that the Irish are still oppressed. Of course, I could be totally wrong and it could turn out to be a good show.
Sunday will be my first parade in above-mentioned halfass garb. I'm just looking for some exercise and some food books. Hopefully I won't get sunburned.
Tonight, of course, is the much anticipated PunchOut! show where I think I've convinced a co-worker and another friend to go. When I start describing the show, people are interested but when I get to the part about how it starts at 11pm and they start to whine. Maybe I'm just working and hanging around too many old people. All of the trash talking between the two groups is getting me hot. Is that wrong? I grew up with professional wrestling so whenever two or more guys get all puffy-chested with each other my eyes get big and I start to drool.
Fight practice went very well yesterday, even in the rain. David got us through the whole scene so now all Missy and I have to do is do it over and over and over and over and over and over.......you get the idea. While trying to figure out how Roma was going to be made a fool of, we fell into the Robin Hood Daffy Duck cartoon:
"I'll trick him with my quarter staff! Actually, it's a buck and a quarter quarter staff but I'm not going to tell him that." When you're actually working with a stick, that line is funny. The tree swinging has got to be one of the best Chuck Jones moments next to the little angry Martian and his Illudium Q-36 Explosive Space Modulator, except that Fritz Frehling may have done that one. Oh well, it's all Bugs Bunny and it's sad that you can no longer watch it on Saturday mornings.
I want to go kayaking. Right now. It's too late to call in sick to work, I'm already here. I'll have to plan it for next weekend since I'll already be booked with walking, drooling, and watching puffy chests this weekend. I think I'll stash a trolling motor in my kayak. See, there's this particularly treacherous section of the St. Croix close to the Osceola bridge between two islands where the currents start pulling in a few different directions. It'd be nice to just pull out the motor for a hundred yards just to get through it. I bet I'd be the only one, therefore it would make me unique.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
The End is Near
This PunchOut! thing is really starting to get out of hand. I think the members of Ferrari McSpeedy and Five Man Job should take it easy on shredding each other. I don't think they realize the affect it's having on the rest of society. You think I'm kidding?
School children are fighting on the playground over this matchup. Not to be outdone by school children, the Crips have aligned with Ferrari McSpeedy (claiming some kind of kinship with Chicagoans) and have now taken to angry outbursts while the Vice Lords are backing Five Man Job and mime a lot.
This goes beyond just odd human behavior. The Cat is crouched under the couch, shaking, refusing to come out. Interspecies breeding is occurring in my own backyard between rabbits and squirrels. Mules are demanding to be turned back into a horse or donkey and birds are refusing to fly.
Jay-Z and Beyonce are on the skids thanks to Dan's boyish good looks and his familiarity with rap music, Britney's gaining weight, and Whitney's hittin' the powder again. Okay well those last two things were bound to happen anyway.
People, I don't think you realize how serious this is. Just yesterday I saw Lefty, the now three-legged white giant poodle across the street, sporting a red streak in his fur. People are mowing "Ferrari" or "McSpeedy" or in the smaller neighborhoods, "FM" in their lawns. People donning beads and bangles all over themselves are tossing Molotov cocktails on these freshly mowed lawns. This could end up costing Minneapolis, and possibly St. Paul, millions of dollars in reconstruction.
I swear I saw Osgood mouth the words "Fucking Fotis! I hate that guy!" last night as the Penguins scored on his sorry ass (I'm referring to Detroit's miserable loss in the Stanley Cup finals). Even in my own behaviour, I find myself crying over every little thing and wondering when the world will end. Hmm, I think those two things were bound to happen also.
Can I even make it to Friday in one piece? Can the world make it to Friday without destroying itself? This is gut-check time people. Brace yourselves, buy extra water and toilet paper, hug your children, and pray that everything will end okay.
School children are fighting on the playground over this matchup. Not to be outdone by school children, the Crips have aligned with Ferrari McSpeedy (claiming some kind of kinship with Chicagoans) and have now taken to angry outbursts while the Vice Lords are backing Five Man Job and mime a lot.
This goes beyond just odd human behavior. The Cat is crouched under the couch, shaking, refusing to come out. Interspecies breeding is occurring in my own backyard between rabbits and squirrels. Mules are demanding to be turned back into a horse or donkey and birds are refusing to fly.
Jay-Z and Beyonce are on the skids thanks to Dan's boyish good looks and his familiarity with rap music, Britney's gaining weight, and Whitney's hittin' the powder again. Okay well those last two things were bound to happen anyway.
People, I don't think you realize how serious this is. Just yesterday I saw Lefty, the now three-legged white giant poodle across the street, sporting a red streak in his fur. People are mowing "Ferrari" or "McSpeedy" or in the smaller neighborhoods, "FM" in their lawns. People donning beads and bangles all over themselves are tossing Molotov cocktails on these freshly mowed lawns. This could end up costing Minneapolis, and possibly St. Paul, millions of dollars in reconstruction.
I swear I saw Osgood mouth the words "Fucking Fotis! I hate that guy!" last night as the Penguins scored on his sorry ass (I'm referring to Detroit's miserable loss in the Stanley Cup finals). Even in my own behaviour, I find myself crying over every little thing and wondering when the world will end. Hmm, I think those two things were bound to happen also.
Can I even make it to Friday in one piece? Can the world make it to Friday without destroying itself? This is gut-check time people. Brace yourselves, buy extra water and toilet paper, hug your children, and pray that everything will end okay.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Odds and Ends
BOATS! I want to go boating. I want to sit on the platform end of a pontoon and cruise up and down the St. Croix. Anyone want to rent one with me? Anyone know how to steer one? I know how to sit in one and how to dive off of one but I'm not so sure about the maneuvering of one.
There's a huge, I mean HUGE, white tend set up in the middle of Northrup mall. It's actually one huge tent with a number of smaller tents under it to give it the feeling that there's many small rooms within the tent. I have no idea why it's there. It reminds me of that episode of the X-Files where the guy puts a tent around single women's houses and gases them and then impregnates them. I think I'm going to walk down to Washington Ave. to avoid the impregnation tent...just in case.
I'd like to take a moment to pimp a few things. First, Leslie Kennedy is also holding her summer session belly dance classes now and her stuff is here. She's a wonderful teacher. I can't say enough good things about her. Rather than teaching one whole choreography, she's having special topics classes all summer so check out the class schedule. Next, Don Preston's They_Fight stage combat school is having summer classes on Sunday mornings and here's the schedule. I'd love to take the broadsword stuff right now but I'm finding out that broadsword techniques are a little too different from the small sword I'll be using at fest and I don't want to confuse my little mind anymore than it already is. Rapier in July could be a good one though.
Speaking of weapons and blood baths, there will be one this Friday night which I'm planning on witnessing. PunchOut! at the BNW will have Five Man Job is going against Ferrari McSpeedy. Remember how I previously said that I wish there wasn't a loser and that the second-place winners should get cookies? Yeah, well, not anymore. I want to see blood and plenty of it. I don't care whose it is, I just want it to splatter the walls and make the floor slippery. Maybe some chunks of hair in there too, or maybe an earlobe. It'll be great. I want a finger lost for every dollar I pay. Again, I don't care who loses digits as long as they're lost. I suddenly have a craving for roast beef. Undercooked roast beef.
There's a huge, I mean HUGE, white tend set up in the middle of Northrup mall. It's actually one huge tent with a number of smaller tents under it to give it the feeling that there's many small rooms within the tent. I have no idea why it's there. It reminds me of that episode of the X-Files where the guy puts a tent around single women's houses and gases them and then impregnates them. I think I'm going to walk down to Washington Ave. to avoid the impregnation tent...just in case.
I'd like to take a moment to pimp a few things. First, Leslie Kennedy is also holding her summer session belly dance classes now and her stuff is here. She's a wonderful teacher. I can't say enough good things about her. Rather than teaching one whole choreography, she's having special topics classes all summer so check out the class schedule. Next, Don Preston's They_Fight stage combat school is having summer classes on Sunday mornings and here's the schedule. I'd love to take the broadsword stuff right now but I'm finding out that broadsword techniques are a little too different from the small sword I'll be using at fest and I don't want to confuse my little mind anymore than it already is. Rapier in July could be a good one though.
Speaking of weapons and blood baths, there will be one this Friday night which I'm planning on witnessing. PunchOut! at the BNW will have Five Man Job is going against Ferrari McSpeedy. Remember how I previously said that I wish there wasn't a loser and that the second-place winners should get cookies? Yeah, well, not anymore. I want to see blood and plenty of it. I don't care whose it is, I just want it to splatter the walls and make the floor slippery. Maybe some chunks of hair in there too, or maybe an earlobe. It'll be great. I want a finger lost for every dollar I pay. Again, I don't care who loses digits as long as they're lost. I suddenly have a craving for roast beef. Undercooked roast beef.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Ah, Monday morning.....wait!
Interesting goings on in the neighborhood. After Kevin the neighbor departed this earth, one of his relatives has been hole up day and night with the stereo blasting and I swear I smelled a familiar, herby-type of scent this morning when leaving the house. I think this colder air some how amplified the scent. Funny how this person never visited while Kevin was alive. I haven't seen anyone looking at the house either (it's been up for sale since April) but I'm still hoping a deaf mute will buy it for $200K. Well okay, they can talk as long as they only say what I want them to say and the volume I want them to say it.
There's a beautiful white giant poodle across the street who lost a front leg in a car accident last week. He goes for a morning hop down to the corner with the help of a harness that the owner wraps around his stomach. It's like a cinch contraption that is used to haul horses and elephants on to ships. His tale is still waging so hopefully he'll be fine.
The fight scene is coming along swimmingly. It looks as if I'll get to use TWO weapons; a small sword and a cudgel, both of which will be used against me to shut my lippy mouth.
It has come to my attention that a previous post may have created undue concern on the behalf of others so allow me to explain a bit more.
You know how one bad experience can become obsessive and then snowball and then exaggerate the importance of other things that would normally not be a big deal? I have a tendency to do that. If I'm not happy with how things that I have some control over are going because they're different than I pictured, imagined or always dreamed they would be, then I get stuck in this spiral which ends when I suddenly remember the one thing I have no control over; the fact that my brother is dead and there's nothing to be done about that. That's like the anvil that always falls on Wile E. Coyote when he gets too carried away. When I reach that point, I can re-prioritize, analyze things more clearly, and come up with another plan. It's the point at which I go back to the drawing board or the ACME catalog and plan my next caper.
With my tendency to go all kiddywampus, it's fortunate that I have an anvil in my life to help me re-set. I've known other people who spiral like I do but they have nothing to stop them, they don't have something that reminds them of their choices.
If my job makes me miserable, I can choose to leave it and get another. I don't want to. Looking for a job is a monstrous pain in the ass. If I'm upset by blaring music, I could choose to move but I'll definitely lose on that investment plus eventually someone will have to pay the power bill over there which may put an end to it.
The world is full of choices and even if I don't like the choice that is made when I'm involved with one or more people, I can just hang out and pretty soon there will be another choice to make, like which color to paint my toe nails.
There's a beautiful white giant poodle across the street who lost a front leg in a car accident last week. He goes for a morning hop down to the corner with the help of a harness that the owner wraps around his stomach. It's like a cinch contraption that is used to haul horses and elephants on to ships. His tale is still waging so hopefully he'll be fine.
The fight scene is coming along swimmingly. It looks as if I'll get to use TWO weapons; a small sword and a cudgel, both of which will be used against me to shut my lippy mouth.
It has come to my attention that a previous post may have created undue concern on the behalf of others so allow me to explain a bit more.
You know how one bad experience can become obsessive and then snowball and then exaggerate the importance of other things that would normally not be a big deal? I have a tendency to do that. If I'm not happy with how things that I have some control over are going because they're different than I pictured, imagined or always dreamed they would be, then I get stuck in this spiral which ends when I suddenly remember the one thing I have no control over; the fact that my brother is dead and there's nothing to be done about that. That's like the anvil that always falls on Wile E. Coyote when he gets too carried away. When I reach that point, I can re-prioritize, analyze things more clearly, and come up with another plan. It's the point at which I go back to the drawing board or the ACME catalog and plan my next caper.
With my tendency to go all kiddywampus, it's fortunate that I have an anvil in my life to help me re-set. I've known other people who spiral like I do but they have nothing to stop them, they don't have something that reminds them of their choices.
If my job makes me miserable, I can choose to leave it and get another. I don't want to. Looking for a job is a monstrous pain in the ass. If I'm upset by blaring music, I could choose to move but I'll definitely lose on that investment plus eventually someone will have to pay the power bill over there which may put an end to it.
The world is full of choices and even if I don't like the choice that is made when I'm involved with one or more people, I can just hang out and pretty soon there will be another choice to make, like which color to paint my toe nails.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Did you hear......
Before I even got to my office door this morning, I was bombarded with the newest rumors about the work environment. It's none too favorable. Why listen to rumors instead of getting the correct information from the source? Because "the source" cannot be identified and even if it could, it wouldn't give any concrete information. See, we're not really sure who's in charge now and we're not really sure what that's going to mean for anyone's jobs. All we know is that major cuts will be taking place but we don't know who or when. Good thing I didn't make any big financial moves like investing in that time share down in Florida yet.
The energy is slowly being sucked out of me due to the online training courses I have to complete today. Well, that and the whole "where am I going to work next month" thing. I was going to go kayaking tomorrow but I forgot about a fight practice I have at 11am so instead, I'll swing a sword around for awhile and then clean the bathroom. Maybe afterwords I'll take some meat out of the freezer and do something creative with it. I mean in a culinary sense.
I need food now. I have no creativity today so maybe a nice cheeseburger from MacDonalds will solve everything.
The energy is slowly being sucked out of me due to the online training courses I have to complete today. Well, that and the whole "where am I going to work next month" thing. I was going to go kayaking tomorrow but I forgot about a fight practice I have at 11am so instead, I'll swing a sword around for awhile and then clean the bathroom. Maybe afterwords I'll take some meat out of the freezer and do something creative with it. I mean in a culinary sense.
I need food now. I have no creativity today so maybe a nice cheeseburger from MacDonalds will solve everything.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Rollerball is.....ummmm.....
I watched Rollerball last night. Interesting film combining roller skates and motorcycles on the same platform. How can that combo not end well? It almost had the makings of a classic like Soylent Green but missed out because it didn't ever present the point of why the game of Rollerball should have no rules. There's no "Soylent green is people!" moment. Instead, it's just a bunch of "Ooooooh, corporations run the world and they're bad" stuff. Maybe they should have combined tether ball and archery, or fly fishing and water polo, or skeet shooting and pole vaulting.
I'm in an unreasonably good mood this morning. I think it's due to the new froo froo drink at Starbucks that I tried. The Mint Mocha Chip Frappuchino. It's supposed to have chocolate whipped cream on top but the barista forgot and put the regular stuff on instead. She asked if I wanted her to scrape it off and put the chocolate on instead and I said it wouldn't really matter because it's all sugar anyways. The drink is more like eating ice cream for breakfast. Peppermint Bon Bon ice cream. Mmmmmm.
I keep forgetting that this weekend is a long one. That means that I won't suffer Monday morning after staying up late from IAGG the night before. I may get home around 10:30ish but I'm usually a little wired and unable to fall asleep until around midnight. Getting up at 5:15 is tough after that although it's a little easier at this time of year when it gets light so early. I like it during the week but hate it on the weekends when I want to sleep in. There's just no pleasing me.
A little warning as we go into this holiday weekend: don't go swimming up north; the water is only -20 degrees and you'll freeze your feet clean off. Really. They'll just snap off like a piece of peanut brittle. You can't afford to drive up north anyways so just fill the kiddie pool in your backyard with hot water from the kitchen sink and have a steam bath.
I'm off to my departmental meeting to see what mischief we can get into at the University's expense.
I'm in an unreasonably good mood this morning. I think it's due to the new froo froo drink at Starbucks that I tried. The Mint Mocha Chip Frappuchino. It's supposed to have chocolate whipped cream on top but the barista forgot and put the regular stuff on instead. She asked if I wanted her to scrape it off and put the chocolate on instead and I said it wouldn't really matter because it's all sugar anyways. The drink is more like eating ice cream for breakfast. Peppermint Bon Bon ice cream. Mmmmmm.
I keep forgetting that this weekend is a long one. That means that I won't suffer Monday morning after staying up late from IAGG the night before. I may get home around 10:30ish but I'm usually a little wired and unable to fall asleep until around midnight. Getting up at 5:15 is tough after that although it's a little easier at this time of year when it gets light so early. I like it during the week but hate it on the weekends when I want to sleep in. There's just no pleasing me.
A little warning as we go into this holiday weekend: don't go swimming up north; the water is only -20 degrees and you'll freeze your feet clean off. Really. They'll just snap off like a piece of peanut brittle. You can't afford to drive up north anyways so just fill the kiddie pool in your backyard with hot water from the kitchen sink and have a steam bath.
I'm off to my departmental meeting to see what mischief we can get into at the University's expense.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Ahhhhh Nyquil.
Well I'm back at my desk this morning, one ear plugged, feeling all loopy-like thanks to Nyquil and I was yelled at by an old lady this morning. I am feeling much better and am enjoying the loopy-like feeling as it makes walking feel more like floating. I haven't opened my emails yet but I already can't wait to see what loopy responses I'll come up with.
My walking route to work includes the route from the Franklin Ave. bridge down the River Road to Harvard St. There is a walking path and a bike path. I walked on the bike path because the walking path is too close to the edge of the embankment and is so windy that it probably comes out to about twice as long of a route as the bike path. I wanted to float along the straightest line I could so I took the bike path. This old woman bikes up behind me and starts yelling "BEHIND YOU! BEHIND YOU!!!". This outburst was supposed to spur me on to move off of the path so that she could keep her wheels in line and continue in a forward motion instead of veering slightly to her left to go around me. I was already as far to the right as I could get without walking in dirt. My lack of movement off of the pavement caused her to yell "JESUS!" as she biked past me. I said "Oh shut up!" and then she flipped me the bird. Let the record show that I did not chase her down and did not push her off of her bike. I think my mean streak may be lessening.
I'm sick of old women pushing me around. My grade school teacher died last week and my mom wants me to give an interview to a Star Trib writer for a little memorial article. Here's the thing; I didn't like her. I didn't like her at all. My mom really liked her. My mom thinks that I should like her therefore I do like her. I don't like her. Even now that she's dead I still don't like her. My mom should give the interview, not me. That's what I'm going to tell the other old lady who called yesterday while I was in a coma to get permission to give my number to the Star Trib. They should all feel lucky that I'm not going to push them down.
I accompanied Anj Olsen Monday night while she got her back tattoo. It's a very nice piece. The artist did a good job with the shading. It's going to look like a piece of bronze. It was a marathon three-hour session and Anj was a trooper. Seriously, three hours of tattooing across an area of your body that becomes red and irritated after the first fifteen minutes is not easy to sustain. In fact, it's torture. Imagine getting sunburned and then laying that sunburned area of your body across a BBQ grill and then taking an ice pick to it. That's what it's like each time the artist goes back to a previous area to do some more shading or whatever. So why get one? Because it's the whole "walking through fire" thing to get that one original mark on your body that no one else will have. I suppose you could try some novocaine in the area before hand or try a combo of different drugs to ease the pain, but then there's no sense of accomplishment. There's no pride in what you're walking around with. Someone may has well have taken a Sharpie and drew on you instead. Going through that much pain makes you more aware of what you're capable of but it also makes you reconsider how you evaluate others. If you used to think someone was a pansy for not making it through such-and-such, you'll probably change your mind because everyone deals with pain in different ways. It's quite an enlightening experience.
I was hoping to get to Six Ring Circus last night to see Jenzie perform, but I was out cold. I woke up at 9:16pm realizing I had missed everything. She's one brave motherfucker for doing that and I mean that with the utmost respect.
Okay, I have a million emails to get to and probably dozens of urgent issues to address according to the people initiating them. At least it's a nice day and everything is blooming right now. If you get a chance, drive down 32nd st. in S. Mpls. between Minnehaha Ave. and 36th Ave. Both sides of the street are lined with crab apple trees and they're in bloom right now. It smells wonderful.
My walking route to work includes the route from the Franklin Ave. bridge down the River Road to Harvard St. There is a walking path and a bike path. I walked on the bike path because the walking path is too close to the edge of the embankment and is so windy that it probably comes out to about twice as long of a route as the bike path. I wanted to float along the straightest line I could so I took the bike path. This old woman bikes up behind me and starts yelling "BEHIND YOU! BEHIND YOU!!!". This outburst was supposed to spur me on to move off of the path so that she could keep her wheels in line and continue in a forward motion instead of veering slightly to her left to go around me. I was already as far to the right as I could get without walking in dirt. My lack of movement off of the pavement caused her to yell "JESUS!" as she biked past me. I said "Oh shut up!" and then she flipped me the bird. Let the record show that I did not chase her down and did not push her off of her bike. I think my mean streak may be lessening.
I'm sick of old women pushing me around. My grade school teacher died last week and my mom wants me to give an interview to a Star Trib writer for a little memorial article. Here's the thing; I didn't like her. I didn't like her at all. My mom really liked her. My mom thinks that I should like her therefore I do like her. I don't like her. Even now that she's dead I still don't like her. My mom should give the interview, not me. That's what I'm going to tell the other old lady who called yesterday while I was in a coma to get permission to give my number to the Star Trib. They should all feel lucky that I'm not going to push them down.
I accompanied Anj Olsen Monday night while she got her back tattoo. It's a very nice piece. The artist did a good job with the shading. It's going to look like a piece of bronze. It was a marathon three-hour session and Anj was a trooper. Seriously, three hours of tattooing across an area of your body that becomes red and irritated after the first fifteen minutes is not easy to sustain. In fact, it's torture. Imagine getting sunburned and then laying that sunburned area of your body across a BBQ grill and then taking an ice pick to it. That's what it's like each time the artist goes back to a previous area to do some more shading or whatever. So why get one? Because it's the whole "walking through fire" thing to get that one original mark on your body that no one else will have. I suppose you could try some novocaine in the area before hand or try a combo of different drugs to ease the pain, but then there's no sense of accomplishment. There's no pride in what you're walking around with. Someone may has well have taken a Sharpie and drew on you instead. Going through that much pain makes you more aware of what you're capable of but it also makes you reconsider how you evaluate others. If you used to think someone was a pansy for not making it through such-and-such, you'll probably change your mind because everyone deals with pain in different ways. It's quite an enlightening experience.
I was hoping to get to Six Ring Circus last night to see Jenzie perform, but I was out cold. I woke up at 9:16pm realizing I had missed everything. She's one brave motherfucker for doing that and I mean that with the utmost respect.
Okay, I have a million emails to get to and probably dozens of urgent issues to address according to the people initiating them. At least it's a nice day and everything is blooming right now. If you get a chance, drive down 32nd st. in S. Mpls. between Minnehaha Ave. and 36th Ave. Both sides of the street are lined with crab apple trees and they're in bloom right now. It smells wonderful.
Monday, May 19, 2008
So I'm going to just try typing without editing myself because it would take me all day to edit this crap anyways. I will use spellcheck though because I want to show you some mercy.
I invest too much in things. I put a lot of time into things hoping for an outcome that doesn't happen. The worst part is that I repeat the cycle. How does that saying go, the definition of crazy is repeating the same thing over again and expecting a different outcome? Something like that. The last investment took up eighteen months from October 2006 and crashed and burned. Dammit, I don't want to give anymore detail on that so nevermind.
I feel like I've lost the point. I've always had some aim, goal, end-result in mind that propelled me forward but now I've reached a point where I don't seem to have one. I don't know what to aim for.
Here' s the thing. My brother shot himself in the head on May 25th, 2006 and the remainder of that year was filled with not knowing what was going to happen next with anything; I didn't know where I was going to work, I didn't know where I was going to live, and I didn't want to write Thank-you letters to people for attending a funeral. That has got to be one of the most ridiculous things this society could ever come up with. I was numb to a lot of things during that time except for the Thank-you notes. That enraged me. I thanked people over those two days of never-ending ceremony and I meant what I said. If you ever attend a funeral and feel that you deserve a Thank-you note for attending, fuck off. Don't bother going. You're an asshole.
During that time, I would try to put myself into Tom's place and try to figure out what he was thinking. I couldn't help it, I just always seemed to gravitate towards that. I would end up thinking about what some of the last things he was thinking would have been. If you've ever tried to do that, it's very frightening. One night, I was sitting in the tub and I started to think about that. My legs were submerged but my toes were poking out of the water. I had just painted my toe nails bright red. I had only a candle lit in the bathroom so the candlelight was bouncing off of the red paint making my toes twinkle. They looked like little jewels. I've always loved painting my toe nails and I suddenly realized that I would never be able to understand what Tom was thinking beforehand because I could never do that. If I did, I wouldn't be able to paint my toe nails anymore. That was my one thing. That may be too simple of a reason to not off yourself but it makes perfect sense to me. Looking at my toe nails twinkling made me happy.
In the last several weeks I've realized that there are just some things I'll never do. That's just the way it is. There are plenty of other things to do but I can't seem to see one that I can do well right now. I can't find one that I can aim for. I have to find something different. I was thinking about this as I was driving home last night. It was the IAGG's 6th anniversary show and it was, of course, very good. I've been going to that for a couple of years now and I can remember not too long ago when people didn't get big laughs as easily. I'm expecting to laugh so I do. I'm not saying that these people aren't good, they are. There's been quite a change over just the last two years where suddenly now whenever I turn around there's an amazing new group. But sometimes I don't want to laugh. I'm kind of getting sick of laughing. I want something to surprise me. Maybe even shock me out of complacency. There was a moment during a Vaudville with a Pig set where Jen Scott started crying because she was rejected and for a moment, I actually thought she was crying. It was awesome. I totally didn't expect it. I even sucked my breath in. Jill Bernard did that once too when she was a being a little kid locked in a school room over night and started to become scared. It was mesmerizing. Maybe my brain is still frozen. Why is it so fucking cold still? I had the windows open over the weekend and I still had to have a blanket over me. I could have closed the windows but it's May and the windows are supposed to be open. I had better stop forcing what I think should be and just deal with what is. Like my cold. I have a cold right now. It started Thursday afternoon and it hasn't gone away yet. Maybe if I go home and take some Robitussin DM I'll have a vision and then everything will be clear when I wake up.
I invest too much in things. I put a lot of time into things hoping for an outcome that doesn't happen. The worst part is that I repeat the cycle. How does that saying go, the definition of crazy is repeating the same thing over again and expecting a different outcome? Something like that. The last investment took up eighteen months from October 2006 and crashed and burned. Dammit, I don't want to give anymore detail on that so nevermind.
I feel like I've lost the point. I've always had some aim, goal, end-result in mind that propelled me forward but now I've reached a point where I don't seem to have one. I don't know what to aim for.
Here' s the thing. My brother shot himself in the head on May 25th, 2006 and the remainder of that year was filled with not knowing what was going to happen next with anything; I didn't know where I was going to work, I didn't know where I was going to live, and I didn't want to write Thank-you letters to people for attending a funeral. That has got to be one of the most ridiculous things this society could ever come up with. I was numb to a lot of things during that time except for the Thank-you notes. That enraged me. I thanked people over those two days of never-ending ceremony and I meant what I said. If you ever attend a funeral and feel that you deserve a Thank-you note for attending, fuck off. Don't bother going. You're an asshole.
During that time, I would try to put myself into Tom's place and try to figure out what he was thinking. I couldn't help it, I just always seemed to gravitate towards that. I would end up thinking about what some of the last things he was thinking would have been. If you've ever tried to do that, it's very frightening. One night, I was sitting in the tub and I started to think about that. My legs were submerged but my toes were poking out of the water. I had just painted my toe nails bright red. I had only a candle lit in the bathroom so the candlelight was bouncing off of the red paint making my toes twinkle. They looked like little jewels. I've always loved painting my toe nails and I suddenly realized that I would never be able to understand what Tom was thinking beforehand because I could never do that. If I did, I wouldn't be able to paint my toe nails anymore. That was my one thing. That may be too simple of a reason to not off yourself but it makes perfect sense to me. Looking at my toe nails twinkling made me happy.
In the last several weeks I've realized that there are just some things I'll never do. That's just the way it is. There are plenty of other things to do but I can't seem to see one that I can do well right now. I can't find one that I can aim for. I have to find something different. I was thinking about this as I was driving home last night. It was the IAGG's 6th anniversary show and it was, of course, very good. I've been going to that for a couple of years now and I can remember not too long ago when people didn't get big laughs as easily. I'm expecting to laugh so I do. I'm not saying that these people aren't good, they are. There's been quite a change over just the last two years where suddenly now whenever I turn around there's an amazing new group. But sometimes I don't want to laugh. I'm kind of getting sick of laughing. I want something to surprise me. Maybe even shock me out of complacency. There was a moment during a Vaudville with a Pig set where Jen Scott started crying because she was rejected and for a moment, I actually thought she was crying. It was awesome. I totally didn't expect it. I even sucked my breath in. Jill Bernard did that once too when she was a being a little kid locked in a school room over night and started to become scared. It was mesmerizing. Maybe my brain is still frozen. Why is it so fucking cold still? I had the windows open over the weekend and I still had to have a blanket over me. I could have closed the windows but it's May and the windows are supposed to be open. I had better stop forcing what I think should be and just deal with what is. Like my cold. I have a cold right now. It started Thursday afternoon and it hasn't gone away yet. Maybe if I go home and take some Robitussin DM I'll have a vision and then everything will be clear when I wake up.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Doctor Evil
So I just got back from what I thought was going to be a quick trip in to have a nurse shove a swab into my throat in an attempt to capture some bacteria. It was a full blown appointment complete with blood pressure check and weight; my whole body weight, not just the blood.
Have you noticed now that when you claim to be in pain, you are asked to rate it on a scale of 1 - 10? I can't answer this question. I just can't. I haven't had time to establish a baseline or collect any pilot data. How can I determine if 7 is the correct number if I don't know what 1 and 10 are? Can't I just say that it really hurts? I can get descriptive if you want. My throat feels like little fairies have crept down there with little fairy razor blades and slashed both sides and the top of my throat and then rubbed salt all over it. While I find swallowing to be quite painful, I'm willing to shove anything with a sharp edge down there just to scratch it and get rid of that little itch creeping up into my ears. Maybe I'll try a fork or an herb grinder or a dried up thistle.
They gave me a "quick staph" which determines if there are any staph bacteria present as well as using the good ole swabs. Don't get sick on Friday because you can't find out whether you've got anything until Monday.
Have you noticed now that when you claim to be in pain, you are asked to rate it on a scale of 1 - 10? I can't answer this question. I just can't. I haven't had time to establish a baseline or collect any pilot data. How can I determine if 7 is the correct number if I don't know what 1 and 10 are? Can't I just say that it really hurts? I can get descriptive if you want. My throat feels like little fairies have crept down there with little fairy razor blades and slashed both sides and the top of my throat and then rubbed salt all over it. While I find swallowing to be quite painful, I'm willing to shove anything with a sharp edge down there just to scratch it and get rid of that little itch creeping up into my ears. Maybe I'll try a fork or an herb grinder or a dried up thistle.
They gave me a "quick staph" which determines if there are any staph bacteria present as well as using the good ole swabs. Don't get sick on Friday because you can't find out whether you've got anything until Monday.
En Garde!
It's going to be an unbelievably gorgeous day today and I'm "under the weather" as it were. This bites. Why couldn't this have happened on Monday? This really bites.
Anyhoo, I started rehearsals on the fight scene that Missy Iverson and I are doing this year at fest. David Schneider is gracious enough to choreograph for us and he's also a damn fine drill sergeant, by that I mean that he took us through the basics which I've only had a few classes on so I really got a lot out of last night's activities.
We were over near the St. Paul campus since there's not a lot of traffic or people to point and gawk, and it's a nice mid-point location for us all. At one point, an oriole and a gold finch were duking it out in the air and their flight plan ran right past my head. I mean right past my head to the degree that one of them brushed my hair. From David's angle, it looked like the birds came flying out of my head. I don't know which was more entertaining; having my hair brushed by a bird or watching David's reaction. Don't fuck with me, I'll shoot a bird at you.
I'm going to stay in and be a good girl tonight in the hopes that I'll feel well enough to kayak tomorrow. Cross your fingers for me, won't you?
Anyhoo, I started rehearsals on the fight scene that Missy Iverson and I are doing this year at fest. David Schneider is gracious enough to choreograph for us and he's also a damn fine drill sergeant, by that I mean that he took us through the basics which I've only had a few classes on so I really got a lot out of last night's activities.
We were over near the St. Paul campus since there's not a lot of traffic or people to point and gawk, and it's a nice mid-point location for us all. At one point, an oriole and a gold finch were duking it out in the air and their flight plan ran right past my head. I mean right past my head to the degree that one of them brushed my hair. From David's angle, it looked like the birds came flying out of my head. I don't know which was more entertaining; having my hair brushed by a bird or watching David's reaction. Don't fuck with me, I'll shoot a bird at you.
I'm going to stay in and be a good girl tonight in the hopes that I'll feel well enough to kayak tomorrow. Cross your fingers for me, won't you?
Thursday, May 15, 2008
I Get What??!!
So Iron Man is taking over the world, Indiana Jones will be sweeping across the nation soon, the kiddies get a new Narnia and the "blockbuster of the year for women" (as quoted last night on TV) is Sex in the City??!!! Someone please tell me this is a huge joke. Have you ever seen that show? I haven't. Not a complete episode. I've tried several times but like similar attempts at The Scorpion King, it was to no avail.
Buiesjrlijah iselrthalshl, sorry, I was trying to write but The Cat was insistent on laying on my tummy.
America's Next Top Model wrapped up last night. I'm getting sick of Tyra turning every white girl into a Billy-Idol-white blond. It doesn't go well with their skin tone. In honor of Whitney, the "full figured" model making it to the finals, I pigged out on chips and french onion dip.
The highlight was definitely the Versace runway show. The thing about designer clothes is that they fit you in a way that you never thought clothing could ever fit you, they're made from the finest material and they last forever. You feel incredible wearing them. Shallow? Yes. Well, wait, only shallow if you live in them. Worn every now and then is just fine. I have a Ralph Lauren skirt that I always wear around the holidays. That doesn't make me shallow right? The constant hair adjustment-lip gloss check makes me shallow. Oh, and always swinging the conversation around to me makes me shallow too. Perhaps refusing to listen to anything else going on around me would make me shallow also. Hmmm, there are so many things.
With everyone coming back from, going on, or already on vacation and with the temps threatening to stay in the 70's for longer than 10 minutes this weekend, I am joining the ranks of the vacationing by taking out a loan to fill up the gas tank and heading out to kayak the St. Croix river. My deltoids and obliques will thank me someday, but it won't be this weekend.
If I had no limitation, my vacation would start in Fiji to unwind, swing up to Cambodia to view some old Angkor stuff, trek over to Samos being that it's the best Greek island (my college Humanities prof told me so) then zip down to Egypt to pick up a few Isis wings for cheap and a few dance moves, then back over to end in Tahiti for even more dance moves and maybe a few tattoos. Or maybe a man with a few tattoos. All I need now is massive amounts of frequent flyer miles, time and money. Shouldn't be a problem.
Buiesjrlijah iselrthalshl, sorry, I was trying to write but The Cat was insistent on laying on my tummy.
America's Next Top Model wrapped up last night. I'm getting sick of Tyra turning every white girl into a Billy-Idol-white blond. It doesn't go well with their skin tone. In honor of Whitney, the "full figured" model making it to the finals, I pigged out on chips and french onion dip.
The highlight was definitely the Versace runway show. The thing about designer clothes is that they fit you in a way that you never thought clothing could ever fit you, they're made from the finest material and they last forever. You feel incredible wearing them. Shallow? Yes. Well, wait, only shallow if you live in them. Worn every now and then is just fine. I have a Ralph Lauren skirt that I always wear around the holidays. That doesn't make me shallow right? The constant hair adjustment-lip gloss check makes me shallow. Oh, and always swinging the conversation around to me makes me shallow too. Perhaps refusing to listen to anything else going on around me would make me shallow also. Hmmm, there are so many things.
With everyone coming back from, going on, or already on vacation and with the temps threatening to stay in the 70's for longer than 10 minutes this weekend, I am joining the ranks of the vacationing by taking out a loan to fill up the gas tank and heading out to kayak the St. Croix river. My deltoids and obliques will thank me someday, but it won't be this weekend.
If I had no limitation, my vacation would start in Fiji to unwind, swing up to Cambodia to view some old Angkor stuff, trek over to Samos being that it's the best Greek island (my college Humanities prof told me so) then zip down to Egypt to pick up a few Isis wings for cheap and a few dance moves, then back over to end in Tahiti for even more dance moves and maybe a few tattoos. Or maybe a man with a few tattoos. All I need now is massive amounts of frequent flyer miles, time and money. Shouldn't be a problem.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
So that happened...
So I'm running out the door this morning already 15 minutes late and am stopped by my neighbor's sister who asks if my mom is home. You've guessed correctly, that stopped me in my tracks. It appears that my neighbor, Kevin, died at work on Saturday and his family is now over at his house trying to do those things you have to do when someone dies. Kevin's home security system is going off and no one seems to know how to shut it off. I suppose the security companies aren't going to fall for the excuse that "The owner died. No really, he's dead. Can you please turn this damn thing off?". His sister knew the previous owner of my house who was an older woman so that's why she thought I may be her daughter.
Kevin's sister is a very religious woman and under the circumstances, I wasn't about to cut her off as she was giving me her testimonial. You know what a testimonial is, right? I nodded when she asked me that question although I probably wouldn't be able to give a very clear definition. It's a re-telling of something traumatic that has happened to you which caused you to either see, hear, or feel god. She was telling me about her own medical problems which led to the first god experience. That led into the last couple of days in which Kevin is now working side by side with the big man to remove all the obstacles that are being placed in her way, except for turning off the damn alarm. This was no time to reveal the fact that I think all of that is a bunch of crap, so I just listened intently and nodded. Death sucks for the living so I didn't want to make anything worse for her. Plus, she may have had a point because as I was then power-walking to work to avoid being late, Annette aka Loretta pulled up and gave me a ride. Perhaps that was Kevin removing the obstacle that his sister created so I wouldn't get a mark on my attendance record.
So.....I won't have any more partakers of illegal substances dropping by at all hours of the night or ogling me as I mow my lawn. Then again, a new set of dealers could move in that will bring their own set of partakers. Hopefully it'll be a quiet summer.
Kevin's sister is a very religious woman and under the circumstances, I wasn't about to cut her off as she was giving me her testimonial. You know what a testimonial is, right? I nodded when she asked me that question although I probably wouldn't be able to give a very clear definition. It's a re-telling of something traumatic that has happened to you which caused you to either see, hear, or feel god. She was telling me about her own medical problems which led to the first god experience. That led into the last couple of days in which Kevin is now working side by side with the big man to remove all the obstacles that are being placed in her way, except for turning off the damn alarm. This was no time to reveal the fact that I think all of that is a bunch of crap, so I just listened intently and nodded. Death sucks for the living so I didn't want to make anything worse for her. Plus, she may have had a point because as I was then power-walking to work to avoid being late, Annette aka Loretta pulled up and gave me a ride. Perhaps that was Kevin removing the obstacle that his sister created so I wouldn't get a mark on my attendance record.
So.....I won't have any more partakers of illegal substances dropping by at all hours of the night or ogling me as I mow my lawn. Then again, a new set of dealers could move in that will bring their own set of partakers. Hopefully it'll be a quiet summer.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Nikka Costa
If you've got nine extra minutes today, get up and boogie: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PVESHBfuXrU&NR=1
Now don't tense up
Just when you think a promotion is a good thing. Hmph. The Workplace suddenly took a hard left in April and now the only way to get out of the hole someone got us into is to start firing, lowering the ax, chopping heads, kickin' 'em to the curb, cleaning house, handing out pink slips, giving you the summer off...permanently, you get the idea. I'm pretty sure I have a good chance at sticking around but I'm at the bottom of the seniority roster because seniority is based on your job title and I was just promoted in January. That'll teach me to try and get ahead.
I feel like a little kid being dragged into the doctors office for a shot but not being told why I'm there yet I can sense that something's amiss. My mom always had to pin my arms down because I was NOT a good shot-taker. They'd always have to get me in the middle of the thigh. Telling me not to tense up didn't do any good. Ever notice that when someone says not to tense up, you suddenly find it impossible not to tense up?
While we're not being totally informed on exactly what's going on (mostly likely because nothing's been officially decided yet) many of us have seen or heard of this scenario before and there are only a few different ways it could play out. One thing I feel pretty good about is that the big salaries usually get cut first. It wouldn't really do any good to cut 30 lower level staff positions because there would be no one to do the work. If people want their reimbursements and paychecks, they'll have to keep some of us around. It's more efficient to cut a few people at high salaries. Finally, being underpaid is paying off.
I guess I'm just going to have to pin my own arms down and get ready for that hypodermic in the thigh that will arrive sometime around the end of May or June. Hopefully there won't be much wailing.
I feel like a little kid being dragged into the doctors office for a shot but not being told why I'm there yet I can sense that something's amiss. My mom always had to pin my arms down because I was NOT a good shot-taker. They'd always have to get me in the middle of the thigh. Telling me not to tense up didn't do any good. Ever notice that when someone says not to tense up, you suddenly find it impossible not to tense up?
While we're not being totally informed on exactly what's going on (mostly likely because nothing's been officially decided yet) many of us have seen or heard of this scenario before and there are only a few different ways it could play out. One thing I feel pretty good about is that the big salaries usually get cut first. It wouldn't really do any good to cut 30 lower level staff positions because there would be no one to do the work. If people want their reimbursements and paychecks, they'll have to keep some of us around. It's more efficient to cut a few people at high salaries. Finally, being underpaid is paying off.
I guess I'm just going to have to pin my own arms down and get ready for that hypodermic in the thigh that will arrive sometime around the end of May or June. Hopefully there won't be much wailing.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Back Issues
All of this hullaballo over Miley Cyrus' back photo is complete bullshit. It's a beautiful photo and her dad should be sticking up for her against all the celebrities mugging for the camera for a chance to say that someone else did something wrong.
I had a photo of my back tattoo taken and splashed across the front page of the Sunday Variety section of the Star Tribune once. My back didn't look like Miley's and it certainly wasn't photographed by Annie Leibovitz. Instead, it was shot by a photographer who started in Vietnam as a photo journalist. He had some really nice ideas that included me holding a picture frame against my back. I was extremely excited about this opportunity and I couldn't wait for it to come out. I had saved up money to send a copy to everyone I had ever met in my entire life.
That Sunday morning, I had grabbed the paper from my door like usual and sleepily paged through it when I suddenly saw my head and I screamed. It was a shock; even though I knew it was coming, I was still shocked. Of course I didn't like how my body looked but I was pleased with how the tattoo looked. The lighting was very well done to highlight the shading of the black and grey work. I had been interviewed along with about three or four other tattooed people but I got the biggest picture. I couldn't wait to talk to the rest of my family about it because there was so much more I wanted to say that couldn't fit in the interview.
I answered the phone later that morning and to my great surprise, a fist came flying through it. My dad was completely disgusted with it and the rest of my family felt that I had embarrassed myself and so had embarrassed them through association. I should have felt ashamed of myself.
I wasn't, instead I was very hurt. It didn't matter that I was 34, I was still letting myself be controlled by their opinion of me and eventually did become embarrassed. I didn't buy any copies for anyone. I cut the article and picture out but I hid it in a cabinet. I then became angry and decided that if my dad was ashamed of my image that he didn't need to hear from me anymore. The rest of my family felt that this again was the wrong move and couldn't figure out why I had decided to take this course of action and when was I going to stop being such a brat?
My brother was the only one who understood. He had been a called by an aunt who couldn't wait to exaggerate about all the chaos I was causing. I started explaining but I got to the point about how angry I was with dad, I couldn't get any words out. All he said was "I know". I was immediately relieved. I knew at least one person understood and it didn't matter if anyone else did. That phone call was in June of 2005 and it was the last one I would have with him.
That picture of Miley Cyrus is really good and she should be proud of It. I'm taking the article and picture out of the cabinet and putting it on the wall where it belongs.
I had a photo of my back tattoo taken and splashed across the front page of the Sunday Variety section of the Star Tribune once. My back didn't look like Miley's and it certainly wasn't photographed by Annie Leibovitz. Instead, it was shot by a photographer who started in Vietnam as a photo journalist. He had some really nice ideas that included me holding a picture frame against my back. I was extremely excited about this opportunity and I couldn't wait for it to come out. I had saved up money to send a copy to everyone I had ever met in my entire life.
That Sunday morning, I had grabbed the paper from my door like usual and sleepily paged through it when I suddenly saw my head and I screamed. It was a shock; even though I knew it was coming, I was still shocked. Of course I didn't like how my body looked but I was pleased with how the tattoo looked. The lighting was very well done to highlight the shading of the black and grey work. I had been interviewed along with about three or four other tattooed people but I got the biggest picture. I couldn't wait to talk to the rest of my family about it because there was so much more I wanted to say that couldn't fit in the interview.
I answered the phone later that morning and to my great surprise, a fist came flying through it. My dad was completely disgusted with it and the rest of my family felt that I had embarrassed myself and so had embarrassed them through association. I should have felt ashamed of myself.
I wasn't, instead I was very hurt. It didn't matter that I was 34, I was still letting myself be controlled by their opinion of me and eventually did become embarrassed. I didn't buy any copies for anyone. I cut the article and picture out but I hid it in a cabinet. I then became angry and decided that if my dad was ashamed of my image that he didn't need to hear from me anymore. The rest of my family felt that this again was the wrong move and couldn't figure out why I had decided to take this course of action and when was I going to stop being such a brat?
My brother was the only one who understood. He had been a called by an aunt who couldn't wait to exaggerate about all the chaos I was causing. I started explaining but I got to the point about how angry I was with dad, I couldn't get any words out. All he said was "I know". I was immediately relieved. I knew at least one person understood and it didn't matter if anyone else did. That phone call was in June of 2005 and it was the last one I would have with him.
That picture of Miley Cyrus is really good and she should be proud of It. I'm taking the article and picture out of the cabinet and putting it on the wall where it belongs.
Friday, May 9, 2008
There's no such thing as a free lunch
Does anyone have 4.1 million dollars? We've got a slight deficit at work and things could get ugly over the next couple of months. It's kind of reassuring to know that I'm not the only one who's (should this be 'whose' instead?) broke.
I wonder if this means that the free pizza at the lunch meeting will no longer be free. Damn.
I wonder if this means that the free pizza at the lunch meeting will no longer be free. Damn.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Brat Anyone?
My, isn't this a nice morning? I bet it's going to be a nice day too. It sure would be a nice day to go to a ball game. Maybe like a Saints game or something, don't you think? I think it would be a great day for that. In fact, I'd have a brat for breakfast if they were readily available. What's the difference between a Polish sausage and a brat anyway? I bet I wouldn't be able to tell. If you gave me a taste test with the two side by side I wouldn't detect a difference. You could get those two side by side at a ball game. You sure would be lucky if you knew someone with tickets, oh say, somewhere in the reserved section kind of close to the third base BBQ stand. The good thing about brats is that you can find them just about anywhere but especially at a ball game. You'd probably want to get there early since parking is a bitch and you could kill time by deeply analyzing the paintings all over the concrete, or you could go find the pig, or get a massage by a nun, or perhaps conduct the above-mentioned taste test. Even if the impossible happened and you decided you didn't like the person you were with, you'd still have a good time because of the multitude of things to do. It's a no-lose situation, unless you park in a no-parking zone and get towed so watch those signs.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Bow to me
I just had some free ice cream. Many of you out there did not. I, therefore, am the winner.
Attention Please
NEWS ALERT****Marvin Gaye is the subject of tonight's American Masters episode on PBS so if you want to get lucky, tune in. While I won't be getting lucky, I will still be tuning in so don't call me between 9 - 10pm.
Directly before Marvin, there will be a Secrets of the Dead episode on the past East German practice of doping their Olympic athletes. The trailer states that the show will review "the impact such practices may have had on the athletes". Hmm, if the show is called Secrets of the Dead, I think I may know what the impact was/is. I'm not sure that I'd be comfortable being on a show with a title like that. It's as if everyone else knows something you don't.
This is the time of year when I start to get my years mixed up. It's budget entry time at work which means I'll be working on fiscal year '09 stuff which starts in July of '08. People also start mentioning things about "next year" but they mean fiscal year '10 which will probably be too much for my brain to handle causing me to incorrectly date my checks at the grocery store.
Speaking of money, it's also book-buyback time at the U so I'm going to go now to hopefully get a tidy sum for the books I didn't use for the class I canceled this semester. If it turns out well, it means I'll get to see the Punch Out! shows AND the Vilification Tennis show AND Rockstar Storytellers AND the Neutrino project (I finally spelled that right). Wish me luck.
Directly before Marvin, there will be a Secrets of the Dead episode on the past East German practice of doping their Olympic athletes. The trailer states that the show will review "the impact such practices may have had on the athletes". Hmm, if the show is called Secrets of the Dead, I think I may know what the impact was/is. I'm not sure that I'd be comfortable being on a show with a title like that. It's as if everyone else knows something you don't.
This is the time of year when I start to get my years mixed up. It's budget entry time at work which means I'll be working on fiscal year '09 stuff which starts in July of '08. People also start mentioning things about "next year" but they mean fiscal year '10 which will probably be too much for my brain to handle causing me to incorrectly date my checks at the grocery store.
Speaking of money, it's also book-buyback time at the U so I'm going to go now to hopefully get a tidy sum for the books I didn't use for the class I canceled this semester. If it turns out well, it means I'll get to see the Punch Out! shows AND the Vilification Tennis show AND Rockstar Storytellers AND the Neutrino project (I finally spelled that right). Wish me luck.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Cavellaria Rusticana Intermezzo
Not that I especially want to harp on a horrible story, but that hunting accident in Belle Plaine where the father shot his son, man what a horrible story. The Fox9 news flashed a bit of the video from that scene and I caught a quick glimpse of a sheriff throwing a duffel bag at a truck. Rather than putting the duffel bag in the truck to be transported away, or even tossing it underhanded hoping it would land inside the truck, he threw it hard at the backend and it kind of fell to the ground. You could tell that he was angry. That must have been a horrible scene to be at. The law enforcement on the scene most likely would have been hunters themselves because if you live in or near Belle Plaine, that's pretty much what you do if your not eating or sleeping. After hearing the story, they were probably starting to form some opinions on how it could have been avoided. I have no idea if you ever can really get used to seeing dead bodies but I think the little dead bodies are the toughest to deal with.
One of my friend's brother, Brian is a MN State Highway Patrol. He's always been a Clint Eastwood-type of person; doesn't ever really smile or laugh, is very serious about what he's doing, nothing will get through his tough exterior, etc. etc. There was one particular highway accident where the car was on fire. They pulled the driver out, who was already dead, and as they were putting the fire out they saw that the baby was still in the car crunched under the front dashboard. They had no idea he was there. There was no one alive that could have told them he was there and he probably died on impact anyway but it was still a huge shock to see him there. That's been the only time in almost ten years that Brian cracked. He called his mom and talked for hours after that one.
I know a guy who shot his son in a hunting accident. It happened many years ago and I don't know the details. You may expect that he would be this crumpled up shell of a person but that's not how he is. He smiles all the time and laughs at everything, really loudly. He drinks all the time but he's not a fall-down, mean drunk; it just makes him tell more funny stories and laugh louder. I have no idea what's going on in the inside, but from observing the outside, you'd never would be able to guess what had happened. His doctor gave up trying to make him quit drinking and instead gave him the advice to drink whiskey or scotch. If you're going to hit the hard stuff regularly, those are the best two options for you. Any clear liquor will rip your insides apart and give you massive hangovers. I think it's because the sugar content is higher but I'm not sure about that. I haven't really delved into the topic.
I was going to try to forget about this stuff before I got to work a block from my office, I saw a huge tom turkey just strutting down the sidewalk all puffed up. He was quite impressive. If I were a female turkey, I'd try to snag him.
One of my friend's brother, Brian is a MN State Highway Patrol. He's always been a Clint Eastwood-type of person; doesn't ever really smile or laugh, is very serious about what he's doing, nothing will get through his tough exterior, etc. etc. There was one particular highway accident where the car was on fire. They pulled the driver out, who was already dead, and as they were putting the fire out they saw that the baby was still in the car crunched under the front dashboard. They had no idea he was there. There was no one alive that could have told them he was there and he probably died on impact anyway but it was still a huge shock to see him there. That's been the only time in almost ten years that Brian cracked. He called his mom and talked for hours after that one.
I know a guy who shot his son in a hunting accident. It happened many years ago and I don't know the details. You may expect that he would be this crumpled up shell of a person but that's not how he is. He smiles all the time and laughs at everything, really loudly. He drinks all the time but he's not a fall-down, mean drunk; it just makes him tell more funny stories and laugh louder. I have no idea what's going on in the inside, but from observing the outside, you'd never would be able to guess what had happened. His doctor gave up trying to make him quit drinking and instead gave him the advice to drink whiskey or scotch. If you're going to hit the hard stuff regularly, those are the best two options for you. Any clear liquor will rip your insides apart and give you massive hangovers. I think it's because the sugar content is higher but I'm not sure about that. I haven't really delved into the topic.
I was going to try to forget about this stuff before I got to work a block from my office, I saw a huge tom turkey just strutting down the sidewalk all puffed up. He was quite impressive. If I were a female turkey, I'd try to snag him.
Monday, May 5, 2008
pancakespancakespancakes
What do you think would happen if I were to use waffle batter as if it were a pancake? Do you suppose it's the squishing action of the waffle iron that cooks it through? If I just pour it on a griddle will it get burned on one side and stay in liquid form on the other side? What if I cover it while it's on the griddle? See, I like the taste of waffles but I really don't feel like hauling the iron down and making the first "test" waffle to get the iron all warmed up. Really though, I just want someone to make them for me. Which brings me back to the original conundrum of which "original" pancake house to go to.
This is what hunger does to you
I want pancakes. Right now. You know what sucks about that? I have no way of getting them right now.
Did you know that there are four Original Pancake Houses in the Minneapolis area? Which one is the real original? How can there be four originals? It reminds me of that Dire Straits song "Industrial Disease" - "two men say their Jesus, one of them must be wrong".
Why can't there be a good diner open after 3pm? Perkins and Denny's don't count. The Denny's off of 394 and Louisiana Ave. would have counted except that it's not open anymore. That's where they filmed part of Fargo. I liked that restaurant because they made a killer tuna melt. Now I kind of want a tuna melt. No, no, pancakes...I want pancakes.
Did you know that there are four Original Pancake Houses in the Minneapolis area? Which one is the real original? How can there be four originals? It reminds me of that Dire Straits song "Industrial Disease" - "two men say their Jesus, one of them must be wrong".
Why can't there be a good diner open after 3pm? Perkins and Denny's don't count. The Denny's off of 394 and Louisiana Ave. would have counted except that it's not open anymore. That's where they filmed part of Fargo. I liked that restaurant because they made a killer tuna melt. Now I kind of want a tuna melt. No, no, pancakes...I want pancakes.
Chinga ching ching
Holy smokes. I'm a little sore. My calves no longer like me and are reminding me of this every time I attempt to use them. There were 15 hours of dance classes over the weekend I'm a little disappointed to say that I only made it through ten; although, that's really not bad. I missed Sunday morning because I was too frickin' tired and I fell asleep in front of the TV watching The Professional. Jean Reno's voice will lull me to sleep every time. I wonder if that happens to a lot of women and if he finds that irritating?
This was the first workshop so I wouldn't expect everything to work out well, but I have to say I was more than a bit miffed at the fact that the entire weekend was being recorded except for Cassandra's workshop. Cassandra obviously didn't agree to be taped and she also bought her own boom box for her music which I actually think was a good idea since she knew exactly how to control it. She's an extremely good teacher and phenomenal dancer who got totally screwed during her performance but I'll get to that in a minute.
Everything else was taped and this presented a problem because of the camera angles. There were three cameras set up in the middle of the floor which cut off a large chunk of the floor area in front of the stage where the instructors were. The boundary lines were marked with sweat jackets laying on the floor. If someone moved the jacket thinking it was accidentally left there, they were reprimanded and told it was to stay there so no one steps in the way of the camera. We weren't allowed to step into the neutral zone of flying ions because it would interfere with the capture of the moment of which we were paying $200 to attend. So what ended up happening you ask? Well, let me tell you. We were all scrunched into the back half of the room and poured a bit over on the sides of the stage and had to stop to switch places every so often so the people along the back wall could get a chance to see the footwork. So, to summarize, I spent $200 to be squished into a room where I couldn't see everything but if I want to see what I missed with my $200 I can buy the dvd for another $45.
The show on Saturday night was very good though and I'm happy to report it was included in the $200. It went pretty long, about 2 1/2 hours, but I got a chance to see really good dancers perform several times. Cassandra is our own little living legend of American Middle Eastern dancers. Getting a chance to see her is kind of like having Michael Jordan shoot hoops in your driveway. I even moved up to the edge of my seat for the event. It started out well but then her music started to pause....and then come back....and then pause....and then come back...and then skip...and continue on like this for her whole performance. She dealt with it very very well but at the end made a hasty retreat out the back door. The tech guy then stepped up and apologized because the download of her CD to his laptop apparently didn't go well.
I'm not quite certain that this could all be put on him because earlier in the afternoon, I overheard Cassandra talking to the organizer saying "Well now you're not going to get my music until right before I go on. If I'm going on later in the show, I watch the other performances and then decide which dance I will do". This is all fine and dandy if you've worked with the equipment before and know for certain that everything will work well. Instead, the artistic process and modern technology rammed together like the Andrea Doria and the Stockholm except with way more sequins.
Aliyah Sahar (Leslie Kennedy) and her group performed the most and the drunk woman sitting next to me didn't clap for them at all. Okay, that's fine, this is America and you don't have to clap if you don't want to but truthfully I was just waiting for one little snide remark (slur, whatever) and I was going to punch her. I can be fiercely loyal at times.
I turned the furnace off yesterday. If it gets cold and I have to turn it back on, I'm going to punch the air.
This was the first workshop so I wouldn't expect everything to work out well, but I have to say I was more than a bit miffed at the fact that the entire weekend was being recorded except for Cassandra's workshop. Cassandra obviously didn't agree to be taped and she also bought her own boom box for her music which I actually think was a good idea since she knew exactly how to control it. She's an extremely good teacher and phenomenal dancer who got totally screwed during her performance but I'll get to that in a minute.
Everything else was taped and this presented a problem because of the camera angles. There were three cameras set up in the middle of the floor which cut off a large chunk of the floor area in front of the stage where the instructors were. The boundary lines were marked with sweat jackets laying on the floor. If someone moved the jacket thinking it was accidentally left there, they were reprimanded and told it was to stay there so no one steps in the way of the camera. We weren't allowed to step into the neutral zone of flying ions because it would interfere with the capture of the moment of which we were paying $200 to attend. So what ended up happening you ask? Well, let me tell you. We were all scrunched into the back half of the room and poured a bit over on the sides of the stage and had to stop to switch places every so often so the people along the back wall could get a chance to see the footwork. So, to summarize, I spent $200 to be squished into a room where I couldn't see everything but if I want to see what I missed with my $200 I can buy the dvd for another $45.
The show on Saturday night was very good though and I'm happy to report it was included in the $200. It went pretty long, about 2 1/2 hours, but I got a chance to see really good dancers perform several times. Cassandra is our own little living legend of American Middle Eastern dancers. Getting a chance to see her is kind of like having Michael Jordan shoot hoops in your driveway. I even moved up to the edge of my seat for the event. It started out well but then her music started to pause....and then come back....and then pause....and then come back...and then skip...and continue on like this for her whole performance. She dealt with it very very well but at the end made a hasty retreat out the back door. The tech guy then stepped up and apologized because the download of her CD to his laptop apparently didn't go well.
I'm not quite certain that this could all be put on him because earlier in the afternoon, I overheard Cassandra talking to the organizer saying "Well now you're not going to get my music until right before I go on. If I'm going on later in the show, I watch the other performances and then decide which dance I will do". This is all fine and dandy if you've worked with the equipment before and know for certain that everything will work well. Instead, the artistic process and modern technology rammed together like the Andrea Doria and the Stockholm except with way more sequins.
Aliyah Sahar (Leslie Kennedy) and her group performed the most and the drunk woman sitting next to me didn't clap for them at all. Okay, that's fine, this is America and you don't have to clap if you don't want to but truthfully I was just waiting for one little snide remark (slur, whatever) and I was going to punch her. I can be fiercely loyal at times.
I turned the furnace off yesterday. If it gets cold and I have to turn it back on, I'm going to punch the air.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Whaaaaaaaaaaaz aaaaaaaaap??!!
FRIDAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY!!!!!! Ahh. We should all take this time to enjoy what we have now because apparently we're all going to contract the measles and starve to death because we're using all of the corn for ethanol leaving NOTHING for food (those fucking farmers) and no one will be able to come over and help us because we're spending money on barrels filled with pork which will cause all of the bridges to collapse. I'm going to stop watching the news.
My doctor is taking belly dancing lessons from the same people I am. How's that for a coincidence? I wasn't sure how to spell coincidence so I guessed and lo! and behold! I was right. Anyhoo, we got into a conversation about belly dancing which greatly increased her average amount of time per patient ratio so now she'll have to shorten someone else's time to make up for it. I'm fine with that.
My cholesterol is just fine so I guess that chili dog didn't have nearly the impact I thought it would. Great, when's lunch?
My doctor is taking belly dancing lessons from the same people I am. How's that for a coincidence? I wasn't sure how to spell coincidence so I guessed and lo! and behold! I was right. Anyhoo, we got into a conversation about belly dancing which greatly increased her average amount of time per patient ratio so now she'll have to shorten someone else's time to make up for it. I'm fine with that.
My cholesterol is just fine so I guess that chili dog didn't have nearly the impact I thought it would. Great, when's lunch?
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Duck
It seems that in this slowing economy, part time jobs are getting a bit hard to come by. That and those pesky little students are hogging all of the front-end jobs. I may have to resort to creative marketing to make my application stand out which then may make me resort to memorable interview techniques which will then make me question how much my credit card debt really bothers me.
It's getting to be graduation time around here. This means an increased volume in people's indoor voices and an increase in sloughing off on Northrup mall. Crossing that mall area can also be quite dangerous. Make sure you look out for flying frisbee's, hackys, books, hippies, and sidewalk preachers. Students get a little punchy when they get close to the end.
I'm taking a belly dance workshop this weekend where five extremely talented dancers will teach me how to do all sorts of cool things. I hope I'll be able to see well from my spot in the back row where I'll be camped out due to a slightly lowered level of self-esteem within a room of so many talented people but at least I'll learn something, right?
Here's a video of one of the instructors....she'll be teaching drum solo's....if I can do this at the end of the weekend my plans for total world domination will be complete.
It's getting to be graduation time around here. This means an increased volume in people's indoor voices and an increase in sloughing off on Northrup mall. Crossing that mall area can also be quite dangerous. Make sure you look out for flying frisbee's, hackys, books, hippies, and sidewalk preachers. Students get a little punchy when they get close to the end.
I'm taking a belly dance workshop this weekend where five extremely talented dancers will teach me how to do all sorts of cool things. I hope I'll be able to see well from my spot in the back row where I'll be camped out due to a slightly lowered level of self-esteem within a room of so many talented people but at least I'll learn something, right?
Here's a video of one of the instructors....she'll be teaching drum solo's....if I can do this at the end of the weekend my plans for total world domination will be complete.
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