Thursday, December 30, 2004

An Orderly Disorder

I just ate some campbell's soup- condensed. a favorite. i thought you should know because other than the ache in my head- left side, cause unknown, i'm feeling warm and cozy if not slightly salty and consequently thirsty. i'm still staring out the window and the weather is beginning to chill and storm watch of 2004 bears down upon us as if a giant wave hadn't killed a whole bunch of people. (stupid news)

Dec 30 Showers Late 47° 50 %

A couple days ago I tuned into a PBS special on the "Terra Nova" and it was a show I stage managed back in '98. Just hearing what happenend makes me teary eyed again, let alone watching them die 4 days a week for 2 months.. What was it?

Well, I'll tell you. Robert F. Scott wanted to be first to the South Pole and well face it, a much more craftier Norweigen, Roald Amundsen, beat him too it- bcs he ate his dogs and trained by leaving his window open in the middle of the night- which steels me against the cold whenever I think of it. So I leave my window open too. But the point of the PBS special was about a meteorologist named Simpson who predicted the weather Scott would face. Because that's really what killed them. So imagine the guilt he felt when he found out they had weather into -50, got picked off one by one by frostbite only for the last 2 and the captain himself to die ONLY 11 miles from the safety depot- But you see he wasn't wrong, that's the thing. It should have been balmy and breezy for the arctic. and 15 out of 16 years he would have been right! How messed up is that? And now with data gathering machines and what not this woman found out it wasn't because Scott was inept or the plan wrong- they just didn't know. It's messed up really.

And infact according to this book on CHAOS, that I have as yet to get through (so 2 years, no big deal), it talks about how the chaos theory sprung up from a guy watching clouds- the weather as it turns out is Aperiodic- "systems that almost repeat themselves but never quite succeed- animal populations that rise and fall almost regularly, epidemics that come and go on tantilizingly near-regular schedules..." It's a pattern with disturbances.

Weather despite it's deadly consequences is still pretty fitfully amazing. And it clearly sucks to land on disturbance. But most of drama hinges on those distrubances, life in fact. For where would we be without it. Profound disturbances like tsunami's... I can't imagine standing on the beach and watching the tide go out and wondering, wow, that's weird, why did it just do that? I know I would have run, wouldn't I have? And it's nature in its awesomeness that make people surf the North Shore or climb Mt. Kilimanjaro or walk around in the rain eating ice cream with metal spoons in the rain... or racing for the pole. Maybe.

"chronicles" 12/27

And I am sad to say that I am on my way to work. As I round the corner to the office, I see that the homeless lady has relocated; now she has taken post in front of Port City Java, which is right across the street from General Assembly. She leans over to pick up a bowl, grunting with effort as she rises. The bowl is for the puppy, whose leash is attached to the woman’s grocery cart. The cart holds several bags of dog food, the dog himself appears well-fed and happy as he sits on the freezing cold sidewalk and looks up to his lady, and I’m trying to take in every detail of this scene while crossing the street but at the same time not appear as though I’m looking, and all the while I can’t get that question out of my head,

Where do they sleep at night?

Then I notice that the grocery cart comes from Target.

Years from now, this person could very well be me.

Wednesday, December 29, 2004

it never ceases to amaze me

how i can park a car and not knick the cars standing next to me. on a daily basis. no scratches, scrapes or bumps.

knock on wood thrice.

today Posted by Hello

i guess i could blame christmas

it's still raining. and i feel more, less inspired to do anything, but sit and contemplate the weather. Today Dec 29 Showers 55°/44° 50 % It is infact, currently showering. SO that 50% came to fruition. and i have to say, I'd like more lightening and thunder. but that's because i'm dramatic. and it is a good show- and really unless you're on a golf course or oh, i don't know, the only thing resembling a tree or a metal pole you're more than likely not to be struck by lightening. which you could be if you're thin and wandering the streets with a carton of ice cream and a metal spoon.

Sunday, December 26, 2004

quote of the day

"It is indisputably evident that a great part of every man's life must be employed in collecting marterials for the exercise of genius."- Sir Joshua Reynolds.

Wednesday, December 22, 2004

"chronicles" 12/21

Today at the chiropractor, the receptionist told me our balance was about $75 more than I had calculated it to be, and so I am still behind on payment. I can't figure out if the figure she gave me is our total monthly bill, in which case I have to recalulate all of our bills, again, or if we are just that behind. It's a never-ending, hated landslide, money is.

Then the crowd at the grocery store was like the mall the day after Thanksgiving. I got stuck behind this one lady on several occasions; she was so slow-moving, which sort of broke my heart. But I was in a rush, and one can only be so crafty with the dodge-and-dance before seeming rude. I finally checked out, took the bags to the car, and realized I had forgotten the holiday-themed disposable Tupperware containers I had meant to purchase for the cookies I was about to bake. I would put shiny snowman stickers on them, and they would be last-minute gifts. There was no way I could circumnavigate the need for the Tupperware, and so I hurried back into the store, flew to the Tupperware aisle, and of course she, the Immovable Lady, was hovering in the exact spot I needed to be, so that in order to get the Tupperware I had to scoot in between the woman's legs and her cart, a tight fit. I grabbed green but then caught sight of the red, just inches from her ankle. Of course there was the option to say, "Excuse me, please, sorry!" maybe even in a British accent so that I might sound especially cheery. But the surly voice inside of me just muttered screw it, and I checked out in the U-Scan-It aisle for the second time.

And when I get to the door of the house, my arms are laden with four grocery bags, two of which hold five-pound bags of all-purpose flour, my Michelin Man winter coat (it isn't so cold anymore), my leather satchel, and a 12-pack of red-and-green-frosted cupcakes that I will bring to tomorrow evening's get-together. I think that I will bang my foot on the door so that S. will come open it for me, but unfortunately, I can't even open the metal door first to get to the wood one. And of course kicking the metal door produces a much more surprising sound, so that the moment I kick there is scream-barking, a loud crash and then some spectacular swearing. S. opens the door and I meekly say, "Sorry!" and he grumbles, "It's okay," but he's not mad at me. He is mad at the f-ing dog, who in her skittishness leapt from sleeping in the office downstairs to the front door upstairs, but took the computer cables with her and thus the brand-new laptop, which went crashing from the table to the floor. And those systems are not hard to destroy, I know. Once, in great and embarassing anger, I single-fistedly destroyed the display of my own laptop. There is no way this laptop will have made it, I am sure, this expensive machine purchased just weeks ago for the sole purpose of helping S. start up with his new business, and if is it lost, then what? My mind snaps just then, and immediately, I too am screaming at the f-ing dog.

"I don't even want to look at you!" I shout, and shove her outside.

And then after cleaning the spilled Coke on the rug downstairs, I angrily wash the dishes in the kitchen sink while S. angrily works with the computer to see if it is still functional. With a little bit of fussing, it is. He comes upstairs and hugs me and I start crying, all for having screamed at the dog I love too much when it was just an accident, for having made such a dramatic entrance when I am usually so happy to come home from work, and the idea I would be so upset at the death of a computer, when the fact of the matter is, these machines are replaceable and in the grand scheme of things this disaster would not have mattered. You tell the computer company it's new and it just broke, you don't know why. They send you a new machine. You rework your projects. All is well.

And fourthly, I cry because I know for the fifth and five billionth time that it is not life's negative events that befall you but how you handle them.

Blah and blah and blah.

The poor dog gives us kisses and wags her tail, seeming to say, I know I'm a big dork, but I sure do love you!

And I think, I love you, too, you big dork, but if I never learn to prevent earthquakes and other natural disasters, man what a bad mom I'm going to make.

Good sir, do pour me a large drink.

Sunday, December 19, 2004

tagged traveler

The woman, for a variety of reasons was crossing the street on this NewYork winter morning. None of which were noteworthy, noneofwhich would win her the award for most enduring and noble spouse. She wanted a coffee. She wanted a glitter ball toy for her cat. It was however, a mistake to wear suede shoes out in the morning, but she conceded, she wasn't going far, and fashion over function always suited her best- even with dangerously wet sidewalks, and especially when depressed. Her diamond earrings, a gift from said non-endured spouse, who every morning poured over droll philosophic books, and looked best in a smoking jacket but never condescended to wear one. This displeased her greatly. Red was his color, and there it sat, never to be looked at. So she was out and obviously about, and didn't give a damn if the suede got ruined.

She picked a particularly chic coffee shop. One with it's couches, and fireplace- a quaint accouterment to her general fashionable self. She ordered a latte. Non-specific, and remarked at how empty, strangely, the place appeared to be. She half-hoped in a haze that customers would manifest themselves quietly around her to complete the ambiance. The clerk or barista, if he be, ignored her and turned back to his double-shot espresso.

She realized she had been staring into the sun. Which was a harsh and unflattering light. Although if positioned correctly the filtered light made her glow and feel effervescent. She felt, at such a time, that effervescence was exactly required. So she placed herself in a leather chair in front of the streaming sun... as to be a dark, mysterious figure- legs crossed in fashionable suede shoes. Perhaps her diamond earrings might catch the light. She delicately tied her hair and watched as the light danced over her hands.

There was however, despite the lighting, nothing to read. She remained austere but sadly not anywhere near bubbly or luminous and decided it was a bad description of the feeling she required. She left the coffee shop and threw away a perfectly warm half cup of latte.

The glitter ball for the cat was easier and didn't require her ultra-sense of scenic arrangement. It was a different script altogether. She contemplated the various toys as it began to flurry outside. She glanced out, somewhat insulted, that it hadn't picked a more idyllic moment, as it would've been, had she fallen or ruined her shoe or broken up with her lover- then flurry. That would be something. She didn't have a lover but wondered, how it would be to rendevous somewhere near the nutritional food supplies and the cat scratchers and spend a good amount of time, where no one went, and made out for a while- or maybe until her mouth was sore- with her lover.

She lacked passion, and as she crossed the street and little bits of flurry threatened her shoes, she noted the cold feeling where the latte had been. She climbed the 8 steps required to gain entrance to her apartment lobby, pausing to watch it grow increasingly dark. The door man remarked on the weather and she agreed, remarking that- wasn’t it typical- the weather had ruined her shoes. He was sympathetic, told a story about dropping a scarf in a puddle once. She said, how sad, and pushed the elevator button.
Back in the apartment her husband was still at his stack of books.

She said, But love look. I’ve ruined my shoes.

He glanced down and then out the window, remarking as well that the weather was bad. I didn’t like the shoes anyway, he said.

“But, Viktor, you-“

“You have something for the cat?” he said. “He’ll love it.”

“Yes”, she sighed holding up the unremarkable bag, “He won’t care you know.”

He came up to her and kissed her on the lips and nestled his face in her neck.

“You’re warm”, she said.

“You’re crying? But why, Amelia?”

She shook her head and pulled away, “It’ll be gone in a moment.”

Saturday, December 18, 2004

tag left in guest room by traveler

CHAR: Amelia Warren
ACTOR: Catherine Zeta-Jones
CHG #: 4A
SC #: 136, 137, 138, 139, 139PB
DESC: N34 10/5 D-35 - 10/6

- Viktor & Amelia have dinner & toss pagers
- Mop dance

(reverse side)
  • undergarment: black all in one w/ legs
  • wolford pantyhose (gobiL)
  • 2-pc. outfit black jersey (YSL)
  • V-neck l/s top w/ flounced cuffs
  • straight skirt w/ flared bottom
  • SHOES: closed toe multi-colored suede pumps
  • handbag: small black suede w/ thin shoulder strap
  • necklace: Cartier broken heart
  • earrings: diamond stud

Wednesday, December 15, 2004

the one and only ORIGINAL. i think that would be a good tattoo for me to get. POLL: where should i get it and how big? Posted by Hello

no turkey-in-a-box? how sad.

Ah, mendacious. Let us take this time then and try to finish our script's Christmas episode.

I mourn for the loss of Mildred and John.

Tuesday, December 14, 2004

quote of the day

I'm minding my own business. All I can think of is that it's free turkey day tomorrow and god-willing i'll actually last one more day at this job to make it to- I-get-a-free-frozen-turkey-in-a-box-to-take-home.

I wipe the drool from my mouth as I see John bound up and he says, "Hey, how's it going." He says this with a laugh.

Then he says, "So has this place started to give you the dry heaves yet or..."

I laugh.

I say, "Ha, not yet!"

He says, "Oh so just straight vomiting then."

I laugh. I think this is awesome.

He says, "It's, yah, know, a typical reaction to this hell hole."

I think he MUST know me. KNOW what i'm thinking. He must know what I think of the hive. How'd he get away with saying that too. Because it was funny and he really must know me. I think it'll be sad to leave John and Mildred.

I didn't have to contemplate that for long as I my job agent took me off this assignment because I was unhappy. I read this email from my phone and gasped in horror. I took a break and I called and I said, "When I'm happy stars and hearts shoot out of my head." But that hasn't happened for a long time. So it doesn't matter. Discontent doesn't matter. But he took me off the assignment anyway. Nevermind that I'm missing a free turkey.

They don't have another job lined up so I've shot myself in the foot and I don't get a turkey. I'm a hunter with nothing to do. Nevermind the suffering or the -now i can't afford the dating service. Perhaps stars and hearts are worth waiting for. I might wither before then but it'll be worth it.

The vomiting comment was everything.

Monday, December 13, 2004

quote of the day:

Mildred: Okay we're off to a meeting.
Mendacious: Farwell.
Mildred: "Oh, don't say that. Not in this day and age."
Mendacious: Well then, Godspeed and if god grants, to see you another day.

AFTER THOUGHT: riiight. cuz livin' in those karazy plague days was NUTHIN!

Sunday, December 12, 2004

okay, so...

refer to the pic before the christmas fallout.

I'm lost on a particular level in this game and if I hit the reset button i have to go back to the beginning. for one thing i used all my credit points to buy supplies, but realized that $100 for a dating service was too much, then instead, bought way too many cocunut advantage bars- meanwhile the trader joe trail mix is getting stale. how am i expected to survive on this. also i've acquired a taste for diet dr.pepper. which if you think about it, i have to stop.

so anyway i get on my bike and ride the 4 miles to work on pothole ridden roads, past a golf center and what used to be a quarry- or a dump- i'm not sure. i think the golf center used to be the dump and the quarry/dump is actually just not in use. then i drove past the burbank airport runway. mental note: i will pause to watch the plane accelerate right at me and take off. i will. i just haven't yet. because here, i can do that. i think, what the hell kinda small town am i in anyway? quarry's and dumps? has this place been here the whole time? why haven't i ever snuck onto the dump property or gone tojumpintheabandoned quarry- why haven't i ever been chased by a junk yard dog? i think, god almighty, what kind of friends did i have that we never even thought to jump on bikes late at night and do that. sure we had the mountains, and this particular water run off pipe but really its not the same and i had to DRIVE to get there and that was in high school. (i'm digressing).

i've stored up my energy credits and calculate that leaving 30min to ride 4miles East, then in a SE direction, it should be 1) fairly easy 2) even keeled 3) manage to avoid trucks and all will be well. i don't want to read this: GAME OVER - on my forehead, or have to refuse emergency service because i don't have health insurance, which if i ever needed an ambulance i sort of imagine myself grasping "the guy" and saying, "don't call an ambulance, i can't afford it!" So, I wear a helmut. Which makes me look like an idiot. That's fine. I'm a pro. I don't mind it. I have gloves.

the JOB: I got this job thru a temp agency. Which if I took zanex, i'd say, i'd popped one, to suck up the nerve to sign up. but since i don't, i didn't and it wasn't that bad.. but it did take me 1 1/2 years to do it. so much for expediancy. it took me that long bcs i've been temping for about - god, 9 years maybe? well off and on. and the jobs, with the exception of, maybe- 2, ended tragically- with "your assignment's ended BCS" or they didn't want you back BCS... which accumlated involved: lightswitches and dark corridors, an HR lady who hated me, a bitter music major who hated me, internet surfing, ambivilance, wandering around cubicles humming horror themes with a rubber band, waiting for things to catch on fire, an earthquake to happen, a free turkey, a car catching on fire, free wooden circles, a dolphin centerpiece, kilbasa?, cakes, company lunches, desk after desk after conference room, and once, a place i could kick off my shoes. did i mention florescent lighting? god-forsaken-florescent-lighting?

so i get there and i am immediately tested by the reception god: it's not difficult. i use my charming magik (the power level on this skill is erratic)... i answer simple questions like, how's my drive, what'll i be doing. I think, is she charming ME? I answer with a SMILE. my patience is rewarded with the arrival of one whose approval i need to gain admittance. she makes me sign a "contract"- did i mention the drug test? i am wary of this level already. this place for one has a tree made of pointsetta plants. 2nd, when i asked what the company did- the god said, you may glance upon these encased relics. i said, i have not the skill. the god said, very well then: ABS brakes for airlines. (i gained a credit). who knew. i guess someone has to make them. behind a thick door i hear the hum of machines and the scent of motor oil hits me- i think, ah motor oil.. it's like THAT other job i had in the aerospace industry.

the FLOOR: now this is really where the level begins. i think, i will destroy the picture they took of me lest it get into the wrong hands. it's a sea of cubicles as high as an elephants eye. and roughly the size of a small gym but not as tall. it is GREY. there are no windows, except for the ones behind the closed doors where the conference tables and the executive offices are. I'll watch for MONSTERS.oddly this is where all the admin people are. I mean i'm sitting right next to the guy who does workers comp and I'M IN contract sales. i think this will be a difficult level. my only avatars are 1) biking equals exercise. 2) money means a) no bankruptcy b) no defaulting on loans c) i can really afford a dating service now! d) i can still look for a job and do this at the same time. Come ON NOW! it's not SO BAD. it's not THAT BORING. besides, you've got your cellphone that you can check email on and listen to the radio... sure those trips to the bathroom might get suspicious, but i drink a lot of water and i have a small bladder. i have been practicing this one. it's like sharpening a skill- predicting difficult and inquisitve questions. avoiding trouble. avoiding that word called "NOLONGERNEEDED"... I CAN DO THIS!

but then i sit down at my desk on day one. now keep in mind, i've only had 2. i confront a little sign that says- S5 LEVEL 4. where am i? why am i level four and paul across the way is level 2. i walk around obsessed with peoples level. i note that all the computer moniters are observable. the bad feng si of this alone might deplete my mind credits. i can't ascertain if level four is higher than level 2. i would consider that it involves more risk, more likely that i would be terminated or carried away by angry gremlins seeking revenge for the murder of their high lord GRo:G. i didn't do it i say! i didn't. he fell on my sword on accident- but only bcs he was pushed by the treacherous Li Mi. I'll get even for that act- i swear.

i would talk to the people in the cubicles next to me, but i haven't ascertained their allegiances or their intelligence levels. not everyone GETS that florescent light deteriotes the little fibers in your soul, or cereberal cortex, or whatever is cooler. and i can't say, who's on the Queen's side or mine- i mean I AM in a hive. and lest i actually get terminated, by lets say a roaving mutant released by said queen, or killed because the t-1 virus spread thru the vents- only to be regenerated as a zombie only to get hacked down by the ascerbic yet determined mila as i grasp for the one thing i want more than anything in the world,...


day 2: i pedal home: slightly grueling as i didn't intend for my bike to be now going in a NW by W position. . . the wind. the horrible horrible wind. but i make it home. i think i can do this. i think i will calculate for the wind and NW position next time.

mission: Christmas Shopping

completed in 12 days or less. these are the things that make me feel accomplished in life.

to all our readers, please check the updated sidebar with two new additions to our favorite links, Indigenous Beliefs and Daily Banterings. y'all rock.

i'm going to be random. i feel random.

this weekend has been filled with: a little bit of this, a little bit of that. went to office holiday party on friday night, got a little wasted, but only a little. intended to stay for about an hour and that's it, inspired by the angry, ugly feeling that i had upon wakening friday morning: not only do i have another day left in this week of work, but i have to spend tonight with these people, too? rrrr. not so much the people in my department, because i like them. but the people beyond. the young twentysomething freaks. the loud lady in sales who is all sunshine and roses one minute, but the next--look out. at the party she impolitely pushed aside my husband at the bar, impolitely pushed me aside at the food table, then proceeded to light a napkin on fire while moving a metal warming tray. which, by the way, why was she doing that? we all watched in removed fascination/horror while she stamped the flames out on the floor, which in that particular area was luckily made of stone.

then our jackass of a c.e.o made some speech about what a great job we've been doing, but hey, for 2005? let's work harder, weeee! cheers to that, jackass, for paying all of us peanuts while you buy a 2.2 million dollar house. i mean, let me rephrase that. congratulations on being able to purchase a 2.2 million dollar house because you worked for it and you deserve it, but excuse me while i try to find something better. working on that movie deal. or at least the afore-pitched Chronicles of a Jackass, which i really am still serious about. and believe you, me, you will have an entry or two of your own in there.

stayed three hours at the party, not one, but it wasn't too painful overall. got great blackmail pics, and some cute ones as well.

finished up with Christmas decor, but did have brief moment of remorse for not making the house the Christmas mania/Fantasyland that i usally do. i am just feeling cluttered as of late. but as i was putting the boxes back in the closet, still filled with many loved things, the sad chiming of little Christmas tune sang out from a music box and i thought, oh i am so sorry little music box. maybe next year. when i have a new lovely big house with room enough for a whole Christmas-crazy area and enough sunlight to share with the plants, which must, even in the South, live inside during the winter months and so far are doing okay, but could be better.

i watched part of Elf, again. i wondered where the other Christmas movies were, who knows, since i made that rule not to rifle through every box. s washed the dogs, which was much needed. last night we grilled beef kabobs. we're doing very good with eating leftovers and not shopping at Target so as to afford decent presents for everyone. i lazed. i straightened up the guest bedroom, which was atrociously packed with this and that due to Christmas and post-wedding fallout.

and, and! i finally sorted the Tupperware. for years this has been weighing on me. and now there it is, my nice little Tupperware cabinet.

i'm being so domestic, so wife-like.

but i'll leave with this: tonight is the SURVIVOR finale!!!! eeeee. and i will eat Chinese food. mmm.

and also, this is the Jackass Moment of the Day, which will go in the book that i will surely start writing soon enough: today after showering, i was like, oh, my skin is dry--as skin is often dry in winter. so i was like, hmmm, maybe some lotion would be good. some baby oil would be ideal. but then i was like, oh, i don't have baby oil. but, i do have baby lotion that is almost as good. i noticed that in fact i appeared to have two containers of baby lotion, one of which i used liberally. then, as i was putting said container back in the closet, i noticed that the container i was holding was in fact baby lotion body wash, as in soap. and the other container, that was the actual lotion. i had to get back in the shower and wash it all off. what a jackass.

hee hee.

Thursday, December 9, 2004

if only i could figure out what to do next. Posted by Hello

it's beginning to look a lot like christmas

even though it's 70 degrees...
c'mon, sing the song!

Wednesday, December 8, 2004

aw, dude. seriously.

Historically, dude originally meant "old rags" -- a "dudesman" was a scarecrow. In the late 1800s, a "dude" was akin to a "dandy," a meticulously dressed man, especially out West. It became "cool" in the 1930s and 1940s, according to Kiesling. Dude began its rise in the teenage lexicon with the 1981 movie "Fast Times at Ridgemont High."

Monday, December 6, 2004

encouraging words.

just know it'll eventually work itself out like a treacherous disease with some risdual sideeffect scarring
Dec 06 Partly Cloudy 59°/40° 10 %

book proposal

title: Chronicles of a Jackass

starring: me

pitch: people do things all the time that make them feel like a jackass. but do they always share? no, because it would make them feel like a bigger jackass, and most times it's better to play it cool. however, i would like to share, not just for my own entertainment, but perhaps also to make others feel, as they silently read to themselves, hey--there is someone out there like me, too. or, they can just think, man, that lady's a jackass.

inspired by: this weekend. little incident involving dishwasher and palmolive soap.

questions: should i use the word "jackass" in the title? it's a funny word that rings well with "chronicles." however, i would like no affiliation whatsover with the MTV show. also, it might be a little harsh--though it is supposed to be more sarcastic than anything. but maybe it is too much of a cliche? hmmm.


you are not alone!
penelope is always here.

Sunday, December 5, 2004


in this i am alone.
i am alone.
when left by roads
and each arm in arm with friends
to waste
walks on without me
and the leaves roll
and the hair whips across the face
i am. i am.
and in this i am.
i am. i am.
and still i stand
waiting for what
but for someone to carry me along
i am i am
in this
i am i am
when hurt and whining
my breath carried
and billowed by
and in this
and in this---
something larger
and it doesn't matter
i am. i am-

Wednesday, December 1, 2004

jimmy buffett

has been a best-selling author on both fiction and non-fiction lists.

some food for thought.

Tuesday, November 30, 2004


I'm falling fast in this windswept street. There's water running from a hose. The surface slick, to be expected. I should've seen it. I should've stopped when I had the chance.

From here I can see the blue sky. I can't say which kind except to say its the kind that comes after a rain. There's no clouds to wish yourself into and the air is crisp and it cools your cheeks. I think it's cold enough for a hat, but that would have gotten knocked off by the fall or maybe the intermittent wind. So its probably better I left it behind.

My feet out, I'm up and muddy. There's a few leaves, ground up and skeletal attached to my cordoroy jacket. Because even here we lose leaves.

Does anyone see my sunglasses?

I have to crawl under a car. They're scratched.


I think I killed something on the way down. The sun blinding, and me now hobbling away. I wipe my backside.I can't say for sure what came off my pants into my hand.

Don't look.

You're right.

Shake it off.

Just shake it off and keep going.

I rub my leg and I keep going. Then I turn back and scorn the water real good. I scorn the crack that came before the water that I narrowly missed so I could hit the ground hard. I scorned that too.

I knew I should've seen it coming like I should've seen death or something inevitable like discontent.

Monday, November 29, 2004

okay, we're sorry.

we'll do better at blogging. next time. there's got to be something revelatory i can say- something about weddings and maybe joining a dating service. maybe tomorrow. tomorrow i'll say something. something about disillusionment and maybe the fall weather.

Friday, November 26, 2004

another way Posted by Hello

we begin again Posted by Hello

mr. smithee as a young man.  Posted by Hello

Thursday, November 25, 2004

miscellaneous thanksgiving post

Sean says: hey

m says: hey- happy turkey day

Sean says: I am currently away from the computer.
Sean says: you at home now ?

m says: yes indeed

Sean says: i see

m says: truly

Sean says: so are you guys goin to uncle d's ?

m says: well i'm trying to get out of it... but um...

Sean says: just dont go if you dont want too

m says: we have to be at my aunts house at 1:30 so we might get to u dannys by 5 or 530.
m says: yah i might not. but i know mom and did will be there.

Sean says: i see

m says: whats up with you.

Sean says: nothin so far
Sean says: who knows what imma do

m says: as in

Sean says: as in today

m says: choices?
m says: ...
m says: /
m says: /
m says: /
m says: /

Sean says: uhm
Sean says: ive got a few

m says: uh...
m says: and...

Sean says: well two really i guess
Sean says: but yea

m says: these are...
m says: ?

Sean says: my friends house
Sean says: or uhh
Sean says: or nothing
Sean says: or somthing totally cool

m says: riiiight. so why are you not vibing d/s's house?

Sean says: i dunno
Sean says: its not that im not vibin it
Sean says: i just dont really feel like goin anywhere
Sean says: why arent you vibin it ?

m says: bcs... your lethargic and depressed?
m says: now now we've been over this before... i hate the family remember?

Sean says: haha

m says: you have no excuse so you can totally shower, shave and get your ass over there by 530. you should come over later and then we can just do nothing together.

Sean says: but what dont you liek about uncle d ?

m says: i like uncle d mostly... he's a little disconnected for me but um it's her i don't like and mainly i feel the house embodies dark evil vibes for unspecified reasons.

Sean says: dont gimme that shit, unspecified reasons shit

m says: uh dark evil vibes aren't enough?

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

there was never a time like,


calm and enjoy... is that a drink? can we bottle it?

tomorrow i leave new york. to whither i will go- south.

Tuesday, November 16, 2004


tapping fingers, waiting anxiously, i should be home watching TV and biting my nails like a sane, normal person. instead am at work, enmeshed in what has become The Roadblock, the Waiting Game. need a better job, would like to get on with things already, would like to earn more and apply for grants and write and write and write, would like to dream, maybe move out west, maybe stay here, maybe read some books again. too antsy for all of this, too antsy for even the research of it, as the wedding looms. four days. and it will be here. beginning to get nervous at the prospect of All Those People! eeeek. however, know it will be a lovely day.

and i will not cry.

i will not!

what makes me happy is the thought of these peeps in town for this celebration. and thinking hey, a week from now, guess where i'll be. checking into disneyworld for an entire week. for an entire week, we will be Without a Time Frame, and that makes me want to skip up the sidewalk.

and also, must remember to enjoy this time while it is hear.

however, on the fifth hand (there are always at least five hands, remember), fire has effectively been lit under me with these measly, measly paychecks. i am not enjoying loan deferment; believe it or not Big People Out There, i would actually like to afford paying off my loans.

but in due time, due time. good things will come.
where is that mantra?
this is my new mantra, for the next four days: calm. calm. and enjoy.

by day Posted by Hello

Monday, November 15, 2004


i have as yet to meet the love of my life. has that ever happened to anyone else but me? well, if this were a movie and due to my lack of funds and my traversing the causeways of NY i should be ripe for a romantic and sustaining moment.

i'm waiting.

i look wistful whenever i can and the lighting is right, preferably when the sun is setting and there's a slight breeze. i make eye contact and look despondantly away at all the appropriate people. i sit fervently writing at cafes, restaurants, central park, on a bench, near a wall, hoping to peak the interest of romantic-lead-passerbys. i walk defiantly and magnetically through steam (which is rising up volumounously through grates), my scarf trailing behind me, and my coat flap opening just slightly...

who's that girl?

i also read intelligently crafted books on trains. i go into places called "untitled" and "once upon a tart"... i look interested in everything, whenever i have to, and disinterested and focused whenever i have to look internally thoughtful or driven...

i'm waiting.

perhaps i'm not alone enough. the din of the crowd in all those causeways, the central stations, the 34th avenues of the world. perhaps i haven't suffered enough. i'm only irritated on the surface about designer dogs and their urination on all sidewalks, slightly amused by the grafetti, i think the trash is part of the set. i have only cried bcs of the cold wind in my eyes. i'm embracing credit card debt so i can't be the lone girl with a coffee habit and no nickels to spare. i don't dodge the subway turnstiles bcs i can't afford it. i don't have an up and coming corporate job of anykind. i don't have a drug habit or an alcoholic boyfriend to escape. my dream of artistry is not in the galleries of New York. it, is in los angeles. but perhaps it could be here. perhaps my life could take a different direction in these small idyllic moments. i'm waiting. but,

i am transient. i am a tourist.

i am waiting.

the storms pass, the fine weather continues charming. i wrap my scarf tightly and my jacket just so. i change film. i take notes. i am too aware.

i buy coffee. i never call for a cab. there is only so long i can wait by the water before i have to go back inside. so i walk. foot-sore and long in the face. i check my watch. i watch the city slide away into the night. the moon is a sliver. red and yellow leaves flurry across my path. i cross the street at a break in traffic. i watch the shops and all the lives. i climb the 4 flights up.

i am waiting.

Saturday, November 13, 2004

new york subway... oh yah. really. Posted by Hello

Friday, November 12, 2004

its really interesting

i wrapped the 25aday job. i sung joyously. i tap danced. i turned in all my gas receipts and burned incense. i sacrificed to the god of no regret.

but apparently money was another matter.

see they owe me. owe me big. yah, that's it. that's the ticket. actually they owe me 1) a kickback so i wouldn't walk 2) 2 wks pay 3) one un-paid gas receipt.

why they're bastards: all three things are still in check form. not in my hand. not in my bank and the bills are coming. i'm sure it's all going to be just fine, but there's that urge to kill- to go down there and ... when i called all i could say was, see. lady. i got bills to pay. and she said, don't we all. but that doesn't make it right does it? i should stop complaining shouldn't i. 'xcept i went down to Sunset Blvd and found a parking space (pretty damn near providential). fed the meter a few quarters and set my watch for an hour. went to get my check. have a drink. check out the view. then cut the light fantastic out of town. i thought, hey, this is all working out just fine. they're gonna give me mine. i still had to pack you know and here i was walking into the Park Hyatt (i wasn't going to pay 10 bucks for parking.) And the already wasted LP tells me, sorry. no. i look to the sky and check for rain. i check out the rooftop and get a drink. it's bland, like cookie cutter LA bland. sure i can see all the lights and the hills but somethings not quite right. we all seem to sense the pretense. but the music is nice.

a' bunch of New York types playing at making movies. i wish them all to hell. but not before i get my money. makes me wish i knew some mobsters.

sorry, i didn't mean to go on so long. the rest really speaks for itself. almost tears were involved at the end of both points. and now i'm here in the rain and waiting for something quintessential to strike me. better not be lightening or my maxed credit card. i want this to be good but i can't say how.

Thursday, November 11, 2004

travel well

well hello there wide world of penelope and other non-specified people who may or may not be reading thah blog.

I have to tell you about the wrap party and then the NY experience. teases: finding a parking space on sunset blvd, not getting my check- bastards (specified), the rooftop, all day travel, 2 hours getting to brooklyn and a 52 pound suitcase.... give me a couple and some downtime and all will be revealed. right now coyote ugly is calling and a jane austen novel. i'm lonely oh so lonely.

is anyone else thirsty or is it just the sunflower seeds i ate...

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

okay penelope's back in business

and may i say, Gilmore Girls? TJ plotline? stupidest. plotline. ever.

or stupidest character ever. i can't decide. but i will be highly irritated if these shenanigans continue with he and Luke's sister moving to Star's Hollow. eeck.

but then the same guy who plays TJ was on Lost? how was that for an odd-crossover right into the flashbacking world of Sawyer. i remain mesmerized, tantalized by all things well-constructed and hokey. last night i had this elaborate dream about being trapped on an island for some reason or another and it was all very vivid and made me want to write. in order to get off the island, we all figured out, you had to believe in God. that's it, just believe.

and i am not one for the religious dreams.

i call them spiritual, if i must call them something.

what's up in my world: survived Bachelorette Party Hangover of Death, just now getting over Killer Cold. bored, oh insanely bored and frustrated by work. increasing fire to make more money, somehow. somewhere. but in the middle there is a wedding to be had and Disneyworld.

Disneyworld. (i smile.)

and for now i shall watch The Bachelor, which i cannot stop myself from tivo-ing. we're down to the last little bit. i swear i will not fall for it next season, i swear. i have better uses for my brain cells, for the love of pete.

you must tell me, mendacious, how is nyc?

Tuesday, November 9, 2004

park hyatt on sunset- follow the green light to the pool Posted by Hello

Monday, November 8, 2004


bachelorette parties- strippers and edible underwear. feathers and lickable lotions. mixed drinks, sex on the beach and one too many before the day dawns. this is your. last. night. of...

Sunday, November 7, 2004

last night.

bachelorette party.
feel like.
i may.


Friday, November 5, 2004


it was a sea of doors. and it was raging. the wind was up and nothing could assuage the onslaught of foam and wet, bits of splinters and an occassinal brass knob. now nauseous and bleeding bit by bit she hoped a door would fly open and swallow her whole. but they each remained daunting choices, one large and another more ominous than the next. she laid awhile on one, watching, admiring the surface.

its gravity, an anchor like dreams, she slept.

Thursday, November 4, 2004

A Shot for Mr. Smithee: Tequila!

i do love the tequila, that is for sure--although it might be fun to note that recently i was told i do not fit the "tequila profile." that is, i am not so much the hairy-chested man. however, it goes down the most smoothly, what can i say.

i also love the hats, the blankets, this history and the heritage overall. el dia de los muertos. and i once minored in the language of Spanish. so why people say they're not moving to Mexico and instead Canada, i can only briefly ponder---

could be the water (no insults meant, but word on the streets is that one has to be careful)
could be the weather (in 2000, particularly, these were Chicagoans, favoring the cold)
could be the cuisine (who doesn't love the Mexican food, but perhaps there are pre-conceived notions of a variety lack)
which leads me to the last--
could be the bourgeois, the TF, the seekers of a culture more like the US combined with the French

or, could just be that for some, it's a more feasible hop, skip, and jump over the border to Canada. besides, did you know they leave their doors unlocked at night? i kinda dig that.

here's to you,

dear non-defector,

Thank you for your recent post, wherein you detail your non-canadian stance. While I do feel it is slightly biased, I appreciate your response. However, I would appreciate commentary on Mexico, as I feel it is a valid point. Although I realize, specifically, that as an "Observer" you do not hold evidence as to "why canada" or "why not mexico" I would be interested in any conjecture you might have.


dear Mr. Smithee,

oh, you do amuse. but let me make it clear, since i do admit my grammatics (is that a word?) may have been off in the recent post: NOT CANADA. not going to Canada. not researching Canada--at least not for relocation purposes. as i've mentioned before, they do film Degrassi: The Next Generation there, and that of course allots some points.

as i recall from certain Dramatics in 2000 when living in Chicago, some might pretend they would move to Canada based on certain election outcomes. some of those Possible Defectors, tsk tsk, whether or not they jested. i rolled my eyes then, and despite being a little more caught up in the politics this time around, i ultimately roll my eyes again. NO CANADA.

i am, i continue forevermore, as Penelope The Observer.

consistently endeared and entertained by Mr. Smithee

Wednesday, November 3, 2004

dear possible defector,

I was a little confused as to which self you are presently. Canadian (god-forbid) or an observer? Besides, no one has actually moved to Canada except during the draft, and that was serious. Also, Americans are lazy, and secondly you may not like it. I feel like a trial period in Canada is probably warranted. What if, for instance the Republicans continue to dominate another four years after this four years. Perhaps this four years could be spent learning all about Canada. Maybe a report on Canada is warranted. You know, is it just me or is it only the Democrats that threaten to move to Canada, why not Mexico? And here I thought democrats were all about equality. Mexico has some beautiful country, revolutions, tequila, dia de los muertos...pesos, access to the rest of South America. Where do Republicans threaten to move to? All I can think of in reference to Canada is Matthew Perry, hockey, cheaper movie production locations and the french. London's becoming a little star-centric, so that's out. Canada is somewhat generic and obscure. That's sort of what appeals and repels me at the same time.

A concerned citizen,
Alan Smithee

yes, well...

even though i am one of those who is rather depressed by the outcome of this year's election and believe in some ways that if the TOOL happens to be a big enough one, it can in fact do some damage in the span of four and eight years...alas. i know. i see both sides. every light has its shadow, and every shadow its light.

for instance, in the light: it's over, and no more campaign commercials, on every level of politics! particularly the local--nope, won't miss those. no more pre-empting of Scrubs, which I agree was just wrong. no more infuriating break-thrus of local coverage over national news coverage, leaving you with the choice of watching tom brokaw shrink into an infuriatingly small box in the upper screen corner, or just forgoing the networks entirely and opting for some loudmouth reporter like Chris Matthews. maybe he's good, provocative, whatevah, but the voice grates.

tonight i will catch on Gilmore Girls and yes, One Tree Hill--i continue to watch solely because it is filmed right here. it's like a support thing, i swear. it has nothing to do with addiction. and there are always choice moments like in the episode a few weeks ago, it was horrifyingly discovered that i happen to own the very same dress worn by a stripper character on the show. a dress i wore to a wedding. a dress that is now posted on ebay and will hopefully earn me a few more bucks and from there, a crack-like fix. ebay, eeeeeeeeheeheeheehee.

so the weather cools down gradually but not fast enough--i'm on the brink of a/c-ing it again. however, by saturday night, allegedly, the night will be in the low 30s, a promise too great to hope for. fleece pants, sweatshirts, slippers, mmmmm.

whenever did i start caring about politics, anyway? this year i somehow got swept up. so un-Pisces of me. maybe the fervor will go away like a bad cold. because in general, i have always steered clear of any conversation alluding to it. i am The Observer, not the melodramatic who swears she will move to Canada. that is Me.

must continue on with life as usual.

tonight is LOST!

Tuesday, November 2, 2004

voting sucks.

um can i say: who cares? seriously. why follow the hype. i mean this whole voting thing has become way too popular. i've never been one to join a fad- maybe when voting becomes passe again, i'll jump on the bandwagon. as if one guy in 4 years is going to determine the fate of our universe or suddenly remove the inevitable fact of human suffering... okay, calm down. i'm being fatalistic. take a deep breath. yah, but look if tolstoy- yah, the war and peace guy- can deduce philosophically that Napoleon was "an insignificant tool of history" than perhaps maybe we can take a step back and not get so upset by this wacked reality we have regardless if an elephant or a jackass is running the country. not that i'm all for this deterministic philosophy but it goes to say that we all have a part to play and to not get so upset or angsty if things aren't going the way we want them to. damn checks and balances. it's not like we run the world. wait, did i just say that outloud. voting shouldn't make us tense or compel people to do the peedance for a laugh... that just makes me glad that there's a thing called the absentee ballot. learn about it people. sure you don't get the sticker but... come on.

okay, okay... my head has been in the sand. i did preface this whole thing (i mean earlier, to myself) by saying that i was on a little insular island-of-i-don't-give-a fuck. but maybe i should. nah, never mind, i'm gonna go rent a movie. election coverage can just kiss it.

mendacious out.

la la la la la la la

now that's the Gilmore Girls song that should be in your head, as tonight is TUESDAY, the night for Gilmore Girls. true, i will probably forgo watching GG until tomorrow, due to election night and a dinner planned with friends: i'll be making pork chops with pears. wild rice. broccoli and cauliflower with an optional melty cheese sauce. mmm, love cooking. and am pretty psyched about watching this election outcome. regardless, it should be interesting, particularly with the Daily Show involved. that's 10:00 PM eastern time, Comedy Central.

went to the polls this morning, bright and early, 6:30 AM to be exact. right when the polls opened and they actually called out, "the polls are now open!" felt historic. was behind man in his 60s wearing redskins cap and drinking large mug of coffee. halfway thru the waiting experience (about 45 minutes total--i was the 42nd voter that morning in precinct 23), the man starts doing the pee-pee dance, and primarily for our benefit. now, it is one thing to share the pee-pee dance with your friends, maybe, in jest of your younger self who has really, really gotta go. but the pee-pee dance in a voting line for the amusement of strangers? i don't know, it just seemed wrong.

the show was run primarily by old men wearing shorts, black socks pulled up high, and white sneakers. and also old women who had a bit of difficulty reading, pronouncing, and locating (all three, note) the names of individual voters for their books. so needless to say it wasn't the most efficient of operations. thought they could have used a few more booths, possibly an extra set of volunteers. however, i would like to think that one day while in retirement age, i too will be at the polls, processing the long lines of voters with my mug of coffee (but no pee-pee dance!) and a folding chair complete with chair cushion. and i'll be wearing a sweater. because even though i don't wish to be freezing cold in my senior years, i would like to live in a place that has some weather and is not, as it is hear, a record high of 85 mid-day in NOVEMBER. eeesh.

but anyway, i got a sticker! i voted! civic duties performed, check.

that's all for tuesday.

until wednesday, and our list of VERY VALID excuses for putting The Project, a.k.a. The Script, a.k.a. Exit Stage Left, on hold until December...but not our creativity. that shall still exist.


a day on the 25 a day job

dear penelope,

just thought i'd say hello and happy tuesday. hopefully today won't be long so i can get home in plenty of time for gilmore girls. lets hope. so how was the sum total of your weekend? on sunday i had to go to a musical that lasted for 3 hours!! needless to say happy fella can kiss it. i got home at 6 and my will to do anything was severely compromised at that point. i'll try again soon... crap. yesterday i spent all day driving along the valley into LA and back again picking up stuff for the show. not-but-goodtimes. is this film fucking over yet. i did think of you however when i saw danny bonaducci? jogging with his dog and i hung out all day with the guy who is going to play the "prince" in japan's disneyland parades. he also plays aladdin...but says bcs of his big head and the wig he looks more like tim allen. but those dreamy eyes tell me otherwise. also i keep getting hit on by a guy named victor. who if i'd let him would take me to his loft right now- i feel a little dirty. hugs are okay but i draw the line at kisses on my neck or innuendos or anything related to "you and me baby"... it's gotta stop.

Sunday, October 31, 2004

dear penelope,

the day is colorless without you.

well, well, well

so the reunion...

expectation fulfilled:

1) it was dark and unfortunately noisy.
2) it was small.
3) the senior video lives (why aren't there more pictures of me?)
4) no streamers or silver balloons, sigh with disappointment.
5) amused by guy with guitar playing in the corner, think, is it for us? or was he already there?
6) ask waiters if events like this freak them out. they say, yah, were watching. were taking notes. i believe this will end up as a short monologue or at the very least a comedy routine.

what happened:

1) deep breath up flight of long, long stairs. balanced with grace in high heels, later that evening took to slouching or casualing leaning against chairs, people, anything that would eleviate said foot crushing pressure. i lean i lean. i babble. i think, yes it's time for me to go.

2) that long island hit me a little fast. encouraged people to "sit down" and eat with me. (thanks wendy)

3) forgot 2 peoples names. i swear given time i would have remembered! jennifer says: nice try karen. (dammit, she used to hang out with a michelle) and well really doesn't she remind me of janine(?) gerafalo (yes, yes she does)

4) a girl threw up. that was bewildering and hilarious- looked ascance at the action unfolding... not repulsed. thought, there's a story there.

5) wondered at my risky top- i mean pink and brown horizontal stripes- what was i thinking-fashinada, possibly? daring, yes. will i wear it again? who can say...

6) note blonde bastard who belongs muscling on venice beach. note: he is not paul carlson. note later: he has taken off the name tag. party crashers? uh huh. not. cool.

7) take 37 pictures. i think this will be the wierdest scrapbook collection ever. a series of flash-photos- me on the left. victim: said curious, said captured in time on my right.

8) laugh to myself after i grab natalia and blind her with a flash. she blinked. she actually shook her head. the power i have amazes me. think later, for looks, LIGHT and OPEN would have been better for pics. think, at the 20 yr. we should have a photo booth.

8) surprised: two people blew me off- i think, what did i do to deserve that one? think: okay i know. but get over it. i mean 10 yrs. is 10 yrs. and that one guy in the corner, it's okay to be different now. you looked fantastic.

9) dismissed: one was ambivilant, another was a snob. think to self: self: i used to be friends with her in 1st grade. think: huh: i wonder why her parents hated me.

10) happily: did i mention, that in the very last months of my senior year a sort of bliss washed over me. and i looked at all these people and didn't hate them, didn't feel angst over the popular people or what could have been (as in i never learned french or took woodshop)- thought, this has been a good time. did not look back with regret. enjoyed all the people i talked to. think: these are cool people, laid back, chill people. and didn't they all look fantastic? yes. think: the fact that i grew up with half of them IS SOMETHING. mental note to cherish other people despite circumstance- after all, they have memories of you that you don't even remember. contemplate that. wish we had time to talk more. think about redemption. people can change. think, maybe throw up girl will one day change.

11) sadly: think of marginalized people. think: in such a small class, the outcasts were really the outcasts. shrug. think: i was an independent. how many can say they were: independent. think: am glad to be me and wish more people would have come. (more unscripted thought)

the script:

"so what do you do?"

"as in...?"


...well i'll be jobless in 2wks. but i. then i. chicago. 3 yrs. no single. yup single. is that your better half? good answer. congratulations. kids? wow. no. i feel 24. well school was a long time. it was infinite. good job. congratulations. that's fantastic. aw, you remember that? you rock. that was awesome. seriously? nu, uh. okay! cool. hey, let's get a pic.

internal dialogue: why do i keep bringing up the single part. novel, must write novel. look at those 2, they slimmed down. glamour! wow, still a bitch. she's nice. kim, stop shouting. shh. hey, i didn't get a pic, he's really nice. i don't like his wife. i can't believe they... cool. these people are really cool. is it hot in here? it's really loud. damn my feet hurt. why don't i stop talking.


(mean it. yah, you bet.)

sincerely yours,

Saturday, October 30, 2004

i hardly believe

that anyone in fast food enjoys their job. but maybe that is just me.

although, my friend sebastian did very much enjoy her job at mcdonald's while in college. all four years of it. but that was a college town. different circumstances, had to be.

had to be!

hmmm. might ponder possibilities of enjoying work on the front lines at grease huts of america. do love the food, myself. and customers can be enjoyable to interact with at times. hmmm.

Friday, October 29, 2004

cute shoes!

and cute top, outfit, etc. you must have dazzled, darling.

now, storytime?


Thursday, October 28, 2004

la shoes Posted by Hello

sassy xoxo Posted by Hello

the outfit Posted by Hello

dear marginalized

dear marginalized, know she loves her job. cuz she has a job. we're speaking from an elitist position- one that bears with a heavy degree that says, you need to do what your "worth"... its not like all low paying jobs suck ass- my does sometimes but that's not the point. although i understand your anti-corporate bias. did you know that the creators of taco bell and del taco are old college friends. yah. totally wierd, i know. and i forget that you have mc'ds experience. i can only say that "you" as we know it if you'd lived in another place wouldn't have ever worked there. we should ponder that. if i'd lived elsewhere...hmm. i don't want to think about it. anyway, the place where we have our shoot has got a way bad vibe. everyone walks around with the most dower (?) faces. and look actually upset by the fact that we're there. the building manager actually used the phrase "cuz, i can shut you all down in a word. if i need to."... uh yah, okay. (*W#@*#!*&^#. if we're shooting porn...well that would be something else. as it was we just had a refrigerator stuck in the hallway and the fire marshall didn't like that... and he's like uh blah blah blah i'm a dick. i'm going to call the building manager... blah blah blah. okay. next! my reunion.

mendie out.

Wednesday, October 27, 2004

Dear Taco Bell,

Zesty Chicken Border Bowl?

Zesty Chicken Bor--

Zesty Chi--


You think that's funny, punk? Let me just tell you, this recent ad campaign of yours causes my blood pressure to rise the instant I see that pompous jerk of a customer's face as he tests the validity of Taco Bell's claim of making the NEW Zesty Chicken Border Bowl the moment AFTER you order.

Let me say at the outset that I myself love some Taco Bell. Not the chicken products, mind, due to a negative experience with poultry slime back in the late '90s. Perhaps it was just the pico sauce. Regardless, on many occasions I do find myself craving such food products as Soft Tacos, Double Deckers, Nachos Supreme, Crunchy Tacos, the 7-Layer Burrito, and mmmm, remember that too-brief promo for the 7-Layer Nachos? The guacamole and the crispy red tortilla strips? Now that was a nice one.

And your commercials, too: Generally, I don't mind them and sometimes, as in the instance of your recent campaign with the men standing back and shouting about "getting full." Or something like that--it's random, it's catchy, it's kinda fun.

But, this correlary to the main ad campain, this complement commercial with the Zesty Chicken Border Bowl: The pompous ass-clown customer, the perkily apologetic girlfriend who in real life would never date such an ass-clown, and most importantly, the HARASSED TACO BELL EMPLOYEE--it is not working for me. Why, because the pompous ass-clown is essentially just fucking with the Taco Bell employee to see if he will really start making the border bowl the instant after the order was placed and not a second before.

And that Taco Bell employee is a human being.

He is a hired actor, yes, playing the part of a Taco Bell employee--one who takes his job entirely too seriously, which is a little dorky, yes, and untrue-to-life. But for all intensive purposes what this commercial does is:

Reinforce this sick food chain, pecking order, high-and-mighty BULL that threads through our society.

Believe it or not, the second they leave the building, the people who work at Taco Bell behind the counter more than likely do not give a flying fart about their job. (Even if they have brought home some of the food to eat. Ha. Sorrry.)

They are people, not toys to wind up and set down on the floor to watch go.

Just, have some respect.

It's just like the UPS commercial where the shiny lady in her 30s is just so happy to be serving the 40-ish man in his business suit. Because it is her job and she loves it!!!!

Do you love it?

Not Loving It

P.S. Are you really "making" that NEW Zesty Chicken Border Bowl the instant after a person orders one? Or just assembling it with pre-cooked items like all the other tacos....Hmmm, yeah. I thought so.

Tuesday, October 26, 2004

redux de job.

"hope your job isn't too jobby. and that you aren't lost in the depths!"

my dear penelope.
i am in fact lost in the depths. clearly. i have no underwear. i need to do laundry and i'm already planning on ditching the 730am call. what the fuck. 730 am. i got off at 814pm. everyone in LA flips out when it rains. and so that 915 arrival at home wasn't surprising. now scrubs is on. so i have to watch that and then laundry. laundry must occur. yes. um... wait. what was i talking about?

uh... SVU?


oh right! there are many unanswered questions. unfortunately they'll have to wait till thursday, no sorry i meant saturday. i was hoping maybe if i get off early this week then... and i was going to tell you about this guy getting a ticket and crashing his car. but it wasn't him it was this chick on a motor bike and then there's the whole reunion thing. i mean... god. this loyal communicator can't communicate if they're working the whole waking day... which frankly makes me question the "industry". hmm. lets think about it. so much to tell. so little time to create.

i weep for me. (no time now. maybe later.)


Saturday, October 23, 2004

penelope lives!

it's true, people. this week was not the best week for sanity and time. alas, but it wasn't a bad week. two days ago was S's b-day and he turned 33. i made a meal and immediately after felt like death? but i swear it could not have been the meal itself, because these things take time to process, no? i blame the china buffet take-out purchased for lunch. the dinner meal was tres superb, if i do say so myself. beef tenderloin in a mushroom red-wine sauce, french bread, and a side of spaghetti squash, mmmm.

the dogs are barking like murderers, now.

anyway, arrived at work yesterday and felt vomitous and dizzy. could only manage about an hour and a half before the idea of home took over. spent the whole day in pj's on the couch with hair awry, looking and feeling a little like death. but nothing major, in the end--fell asleep for the second night in a row at 9:30 pm, but this morning, ah glorious saturday, was able to sleep until after 10:00 am. niiiice. and magically i feel all better. i think the lethargy needed to happen, man.

watched the first three hours of "angels in america" just to see what all those oscars were about. and i see now, i see. the next three hours will come soon via netflix...anyway, right after finishing these three hours of "a.i.a.," went to check mail and found another ad for our state senator, whom i've already decided to vote for anyway, based on her alleged priorities. and this ad was all, "candidate x wishes to be first openly gay candidate in the senate." and i was all, "cool, gives me another reason to vote for her, right?" well then i realized that duh, the ad was from the opposite camp and this was a smear. and ugly, ridiculous, righteous smear from the Other Side--well it's pretty much set in stone that i'm voting for her now. ugh. feeling of vomitous-ness washed right over me again as i read through. the South, the South.


"lost": but yes, we have to forgive the coffin-smashing because of this episode's overall brilliance and creepiness. stand up, jack, oh yes. i feel like the series is really beginning to gel...but not like magellan. why, because that dr. scholl's commercial is really the stupidest ever.

up next: mendacious reunion.

didnt i tell you

there'd be a vision quest on LOST. sure there were those creepy dolls and that coffin- which by the way would not be empty or able to be broken into tiny bits by one hot MF. but i guess i'm okay with that.

i have to work today.
today is also reunion day.

i can't say where penelope is either. has anyone seen her lately? if so please feel free to email me or comment and give me possible clues as to her whereabouts. i'm fine with treasure hunts and stuff but i don't know how particularly good i am with brain teasers, so don't make it too hard.

Thursday, October 21, 2004

bliss Posted by Hello

continuity Posted by Hello

at Posted by Hello

the 25 a day job

"laguna beach" is really distracting me right otherwise i might tell you about the job. i like it for the most part. art production- scenic, props- set dress sucks, props also sucks, scenic sometimes suck especially when using drippy enamel paint- i'm not really sure how much i like continuity either. huh.

i have 2 wks left.
(i know this was substandard.
i apologize.
i don't normally post in the morning.
you can see the problem.
now, made is on...
so i'll rethink this whole thing and get back to you later tonight.

Tuesday, October 19, 2004


mendacious says:

i feel like we're always stuck with that inherent fear. that we won't return to what we love because of apathy or disgust or because we fail to lead dramatic or destructive or chaotic enough lives. and god sometimes nothing is happening anywhere. but let's keep in mind time is deceptive. you feel like months go by and you're lost and could it be more than a phase, more than me being burnt out...can't we find the balance btw spew and when "inspiration" strikes. but if it doesn't start here in the small things than where does it start. and really when non-fiction fails to appeal work with invention. polor bears for instance on a desert island...internal spaces that involve daisies with titles like "intertia land"... a place where honey buns exist and housewifes stabbing cakes... well anyway i was going to say something about characters and being the puppet master but my pinky and index finger are taped together on the right hand so i keep hitting the wrong keys. i was washing a glass and didn't realize it was broken. and a quarter inch slice down and some blood later... i'm a dumbass, and who wouldve thought that yesterday this would have happened.

that's the beauty and the horror of being an artist-- having to reconcile with time and circumstance. (cuz its all about artists)

so its not so much about the wedding or the 25$ a day job- its what's behind it, behind the routine and the place where we imagine ourselves to be.

nevertheless i will be talking about the 25$ a day job tomorror. till then. mon amis.

despair (mock, of course)

oh my god, she thinks, as she walks to her work--i am no longer A Writer. really, she does not mean to harp on the subject, but it may very well be true, if even for just a few Very Bad Moments in life. a phase, maybe. but there is a large and real fear looming in those clouds up there: the fear of the phase turning into a lifestyle, a new way a being, a bad habit that you never will quit.
and what are you without writing, without using This Something that was given to you like a gift? just another average girl with average looks that no ever sees or hears as someone with Something to Say. another jerk wearing Old Navy clothes, walking down the street. an entity of little or no definition.
it is your voice and no one else's.
she admits there are semi-regular Projects, Occasions, where she takes the time to write: for instance, here in Ivy Land. and then there is the script over which she and mendacious toil. so it is not really the lack of projects, then, or the fact that she is not one of those writers who Must Write Every Day or Die (what is that all about, anyway?). though she wishes she had some of that in her, just a little bit. she wishes she would feel that burning urge to write her own stories for instance, just a little bit.
it is not the lack of time to write. it might be the lack of energy. the plethora of excuses. or some ugly combo of all three.
but penelope is thinking with Deep Dismay this morning that it may just a problem of larger proportions. a very heart-sinking problem. the Lack of Inspiration. is she, as she most feared in all those doom-like days leading to the Final Graduation, now boring?
even when out being social, what is there to say, much less write about? talk about the job? eh. talk about the wedding plans? eh. there's just not enough drama in either world to make a good story.
or worse: the real horror and horror! what penelope fears most and the cause of this blog: has she lost her eye?
because life is good, as previously established--there are always problems, a little drama here and there. enough to make life interesting but not unbearable. 
what is always important, what will always be important, is The Eye.
my eye, my eye! i have to find my eye!
should i look in the couch cushions?
i think i may just need a big shake-up of my world.
sandier pastures, baby, i am telling you.

Sunday, October 17, 2004

whose reunion

yah, whateva' it's mine. I'm not complaining see? it's just you know reunion time. and i think, i don't know these people... but then i think, wait- i spent k-12 with half of them. you think i might give that a little credit. not that i remember much of k-12 but really... I am a voyuer, end of story.

things i didn't accomplish before the 10 yr:

1)lose 100 lbs. (dammit, next year for sure)
2)write long awaited novel (dammit, maybe before the 20 yr)
3)enter into long-term relationship (wait who are we kidding here? i said @ 30. right?)

things i expected:

1)debt (lots)
2)ambiguous and unknown job (ie. future and therefore indeterminte. ie. not present tense.)
3)to be educated (come on phd. that's only if i'm bored and am tired of making minimum payments per the results of 1 and 3 and bcs i don't have #2.)

things i didn't expect:
1)out-fit anxiety (encompassing: shoes, hair, nails, whether to wear chord jacket or go for something else. what about earrings? whose performance is this anyway?! like a one night only event, and i'm paying to preform and the alcohol isn't even included!)
2)that- sucks.

things i always pictured in my reunion scenarios:
1)john cusak with post-it-notes
2)streamers (blue and white ones ala peggy sue got married, also her silver dress and balloons. lots of balloons. also silver.)
3)relative darkness with circular tables and crowds of people
4)blown up pictures of random people or at the very least our senior video

things i know will be at my reunion:
1)none of the above
2)think small
3)hopefully dark
4)the next day cop-out picnic which i won't be attending due to the following reasons:
a) it's out in the OPEN
b) it's LIGHT outside
c) i'm picturing ugly blanket cliques and splintery tables
d) there's going to be "families"
e) you have to bring your own lunch?
f) did i mention open and light outside? also banners or streamers in that context just can't abide.

so check in next week to hear what i have to say about it. and as per some of my friends suggestions, you can always come and try to crash it- causing a scene, pretend to be an ambiguous but outraged lover, or a money grubbing bastard seeking unspecified amounts of money... yah man. yah. i can only hope for that kind of drama. guns anyone? or maybe a really good game of lazer tag. that's just sick but i like it. a fog machine might make it EVEN better.

m- oUT.

note the pumpkin Posted by Hello

team america, continued

Elaborate, mendacious? I require a more complete movie review when waking up on a Sunday morning.


Saturday, October 16, 2004

team america

matt stone and trey parker are my heros. i'm serious. they fucking rock.

Friday, October 15, 2004

penelope's evening breaks down

4:30 PM: Penelope will leave from work, more or less dashing to her car, which is parked on the second level, about halfway up the slope, in the parking deck. The warm-glowiness of Ah, It is Friday will spread over shoulders.
4:45 PM: Will be still entrenched in inane local rush-hour traffic, refraining from any cursing. Because it is Friday. And we are grooving to The Shins.
5:00 PM: May be still entrenched in inane local rush-hour traffic where people DO NOT KNOW HOW TO DRIVE, but also still refraining from any cursing. Because it is Friday. And we are on our way to a picnic. And if you don't find the GAS PEDAL SOMETIME TODAY, well--no, nothing. Because it is Friday.
5:07 PM to approximately 6:30 PM: Penelope will eat free pickles. Oh, and some hot dogs, hamburgers, maybe some potato chips. We'll see what they got. It's an office picnic, for her guy's office. Which he hates. But that is another story. (And it is the office he hates, not the actual people, just to be clear. The people are sorta cool, so far.)
6:30 PM: On her way home, only one-beer tipsy. Because Penelope is Substance Sensitive, but also a Responsible Driver. Even in traffic only moving 25 miles per hour. Songs about being on one's way home play in mind, over The Shins: Simon & Garfunkel, some Enya maybe?
6:50 PM: Home. Really. It's true! Say hi to doggies.
7:00 PM: Work-outfit-to-pajama transformation.
7:02 PM: Couch awaits, but okay doggies, we'll play. Just to calm you down a bit.
7:20 PM: Couch! Finish watching America's Top Model, DVR'd* from yesterday afternoon. Because we don't get UPN in these parts, but CBS is kind enough to replay certain shows. But let's not talk about Amish in the City, because we completely missed that.
8:00 PM: Watch Joan of Arcadia, which is really, really smart and funny and good. It is no Touched by an Angel. It is not Pax. It appeals to this target 26-year-old, female audience.
8:59 PM: Mop up inevitable tears from Joan of Arcadia. Because it is SO. GOOD. Penny means it.
9:00 PM: Watch Degrassi: The Next Generation, new episode. But is it really new, or just new to the US and old hat to the Canadians? Hmmm. Anyway, DVR'd at 8:00 PM while watching J.o.A., and so here it is.
9:31 PM: Philosophical Crisis of Sorts. 
What to do, what to do? Read Alice Hoffman book, watch more TV, catch up on all unread New Yorkers, pick a movie...write? Ha. Hmmm, let me ponder...let me wander 'round.
Here, ladies and gentleman, is where True Lethargy ensues. But the question is, if Penelope sits here and plans this evening out, even going so far as to blog it in Ivy Land, does the Planned Lethargy qualify as Legitimate Lethargy? That is, will she wake up feeling as though real time and effort was spent Doing Nothing? Because that, to be frank, is the goal. Some significant amount of time somewhere in this weekend where nothing of consequence is done and no bad feelings are experienced for doing so: In fact, bad feelings would be experienced only if it wasn't done.
These weekends are flying by, and it could be The Wedding Countdown, or it could be just the nature of this life and how break-neckingly fast it moves, particularly when times are good. Because let's face it: despite all these stresses and that stubborn thread of un-placeable, un-blameable melancholy, life overall right now is pretty darn good. (See: "Mantra" below.) The problem only comes when the weekend goes by so fast, filled with so many Things to be Accomplished, or even filled with great activities and people that are a whole lot of fun--it is the speed. And the lack of Down Time.
When life gets this hectic, I guess it is inevitable that Down Time must be a Scheduled Task. And so if accomplished correctly, it does have some value and will ideally make the blur of this passing weekend not quite so blurry.
But oh for those bouts of Down Time that just happen, and happen often. They are like naps on the couch while watching a movie or a show: Because you didn't plan it, because you weren't asking for it, because you weren't insisting upon it, that sleep is so much more deep.
10:02 PM, 10:10 PM, 11:36 PM, and all the other minutes in-between: Stone Phillips? Maybe. No. A new idea. Let's leave it undecided.
*Penelope and Time Warner Cable's answer to TiVo. And it totally rocks.

Thursday, October 14, 2004

camp sketches Posted by Hello


have derailed vehicle. please advise.

Mantra: Penelope Responds

Even in a state of job-having, Penelope needs a mantra, and it is this:
C'est la vie.
Whatever will be, will be.
You really, really like TV.
No, seriously.
Whatever is meant to happen, will.
And you really do believe that.
Never stop dreaming of greener, or perhaps sandier, pastures.
You ARE a writer. You are.
You will always BE a writer. You will.
Don't forget what you have. Think of Haiti.
So what if you're already starting to sound like A Mom.
No worries, it's all good--wait, those are someone else's words.
You have your own words.
Your own style.
Your own flair.
And two big dogs!
Which is a really big deal, because you used to be afraid of dogs.
That says something.
You're continually making an effort to improve: Health, wealth, well-being, outlook.
That effort is good, and should not stop.
Despite any slumps.
A thought to make your heart lift: Nothing lasts forever.
A thought to make your heart twist: Nothing lasts forever.
Life is short.
Life is good.
And wherever you live, Al Roker will always introduce the local weather with,
"Here's what's happening in your neck of the woods."
Hey, she said she was a writer, not a poet.

Wednesday, October 13, 2004

along the line

journey midpoint Posted by Hello

when i was just a little girl,as we all were when we were just a little something,I got taken by the hand.

and it's like now, I'm being pulled around where I don't want to go, but i can't object, bcs i have no will of my own, or more-over that i don't have anything better to do. and now it's like- I'm reading the only novel that I think might be good, so despite some slow passages I still have to see what happens. and bcs i'm so distracted I'm wandering dangerously close to a cliff, or on coming motorist, or an old lady with a mean dog or a thicket of gangsters and really maybe just a big crack in the sidewalk. it doesn't matter, because all i'm thinking is, i have to finish it.

(read aloud. sound- forceful. serious and slightly on the edge of sarcasm and despair.)

DAY 3 (DAY 4 doesn't come)
7:15AM- up. awake. on-line. breakfast.
7:45AM- on the road.
8:30AM- lost. appear to be trapped in some sort of nexis.

8:42AM- arrive at St. Vincent's. A huge thrift store in the middle of downtown LA. I call L and they are BOTH running late. I am on my own. There are people fervantly searching through huge boxes. I climb over mounds of clothes, intimidated by their singular focus. (the people not the mounds) I see a Jack Wagner LP and a John Denver LP. (seriously tempted). Syndey Sheldon lies at my feet. I suddenly feel obsessed with phones, as well as a red desk and a leather couch. I think, damn that's cheap. I need to remember this place. I ponder used pianos.

11:00AM- downtown LA. pass by Bradbury Building. Ross Cutlery and Grand Central Market. Also Flower Market. FIND the Fabric District. Park car for $3 all day. Only have a $100. Man can't break $100. Takes my keys. Embark on fruitless search with R to find 3 king size satiny quilted bed spreads for less than $100 in either dark dark navy, black or charcoal. Stop for a diet coke at El Pollo Loco. R buys. He gets fries. We go to Starbucks across the street and sit there instead. We read "The Arts" section of the LA Times. We see that writers are finally getting some good faith agreement power with the studios. This makes me smile. We watch a younger man at the corner, next to El Pollo, blow bubbles at passerbys, attempting to sell this bubble blowing wonder-machine. No one is buying. Just 2 feet away is a thin and slightly unkempt man begging- for what, I don't know. When we crossed the street I ignored him both times. The man with the bubble blowing wonder machine and the begging man seem to have a strange and easy peace, both tired and neither willing to concede. More bubbles. I wish i had a camera.

12:ishPM- we find "what will do". not a quilt. we call for approval. I think, I have to remember to come here again sometime. I think, maybe one day I'll need cheap fabric.

12:45- i take R to Lake Hollywood. The brown haze interferes with the majesty of our once emergency drinking water. Yesterday was glorious.

12:52- enter the backside of Universal Studios. Accidently take R's license along with my own. Discover this at 3:30. Not impressed despite wanting to be. Not by his license but by the Prop Dept. I don't know if in a past life I used to do this-- or like this deja vu moment i had Monday... where, L asks me, have you been here before? and i look, trying to remember something... and then later when she gives me a # to call I turn and look at this case of costume jewelry and right when I think "I've been here before", the phone call goes through to a fax machine, as if confirming the fact that I have in fact been here before, but moreover, have already experienced THIS before. It was a strong impression. I am left unsettled. It will last ALL week.

1-3:30- hungry. pissed off. unimpressed. i furrow my brow. colin f. with a mustache-ugh!. L says, look she's furrowing her brow. i say, reading about colin does that to people. (Have you killed yourself yet and skimmed a head) me. too. yes me too.) but i have to go on. bcs i was there.

3:30-5:00 eat togos in car. meet a girl named Sarah who works at nights of neon. she gives us a deal. i think, cool. she tells me, everyone is working low-budget these days. she says, gone are the days of the $60,000 lights, neon and signage deals. i think, maybe those days will return. I think this Neon, is worth more than me. I think a warehouse full of lit neon is both really loud and really cool. Makes me think, I should be here when it's dark and wearing roller skates-- or maybe blowing bubbles.

6:00- brother comes in from Minnasota. Mom comes home from hospital. We get in his rental mini-van. its grey. I'm wearing my new beige courdoroy jacket. We eat at Tommy's Burgers. We watch south park. he leaves. I may or may not see him for months. he says, mom, if you talk to D tell her not to despair. I think, her husband is inevitably dying- he has been dying for 4 years of colon cancer. I think, when is she going to face this. I think she is trapped in despair. it is inoperable like his cancer. my mom says something cliche like, well you know what they say about a horse- i say, you can lead it to water. she says, you can't make it drink.

7:30- mom leaves to visit dad in hospital. apparently thyroids grow? this one has been growing for YEARS. the surgeon asks, has he been putting this off? Apparently, thyroids are supposed to be 3cm. my dad's was 13cm and spread from his chin to his chest cavity. After 3 hours they could only get half out. Next month maybe the rest... She shows mom a poloroid of the thyroid. I say, did you get to keep it. She says, no. It goes in the medical file. I think, she should have at least made doubles.

8PM- lOST is on.

INDETERMINITE TIME: mom is not yet home. i've run all out of pickles.

dear mr. smithee,

thank you for your thoughtful letter re: "build your very own defense mechanism." we at the pepper sauce store always appreciate any sort of feedback from our clients, as it helps us to feel better about ourselves or, in the case your letter, inspires us to seriously reevaluate why it is we are even bothering to get out of bed in the morning.

to show our appreciation, we will be sending you coupons for insubstantial discounts on pepper sauce, as well as free tokens to use at your local chuck e. cheese. be sure to visit both the ball crawl and the mouse house, as they will make you feel like a kid again.

as for your concerns regarding the "product," which is not so much a product but a "project," i'm afraid i myself cannot help you. i can, however, forward your issues to the Suggestion Box Department, where our chief Suggestion Box Department Sorter will promptly cut the paper up into little shapes and mod-podge them artfully to the wall.

in the meantime, visualize this: you are happy, smiling, eating a lollipop. don't worry about how you paid for the lollipop, just eat away. happy, smiling. there are no clouds in the sky, unless you like clouds, in which case--poof, clouds. you have no worries about petty things like How to Earn an Income, and Your Value in Society, and the Legitimacy of Yourself as an Artist.

you are alan smithee, and you love lollipops, and in the manner of the Greatest American Hero you are, that's right, walking on air.

believe or not, there you are: weightless.

your Customer Care Technician

Tuesday, October 12, 2004

hey whoa,

Hey whoa,

Mendacious is uncomfortable with weightlessness. Mendacious wants to know who Promo-whatshisname is.

You know what- it doesn't matter. I don't want to talk about it. I have to agree that you know positive like internal dialogue is the way to go.

My semi-employed i might as well be jobless MANTRA:

I don't care.
Fuck it.
It'll work out.
The money will come from somewhere.
God does provide.
I'm sure I'll get a good paying job when I come back.
One of those leads will pan out.
I'll not be stuck in the mudwallow forever.
I'll keep on the job hunt.
The connections will serve me later.
A rich husband is on his way.
It's all about the learning process.
I'm glad I have supportive parents.
I'd settle for A husband of anykind.
I can't get what I want 100% of the time.
This faminine is probably good for me anyway.
Then there's the wedding to think about.
You have to start somewhere.
Wish it wasn't in the pit of hell.
I could go on and on...let's see.

I'm weightless.
I'm weightless.
I'm weightless.