Rainy Day, How I'm Spending my Time

Today so far I have:
Cleaned the bathroom, sort of dusted the living room (it's futile, will never win the War on Dog Hair), swept up more than enough hair to manufacture a new pet, took a bubble bath, cooked pasta sauce with sausage, cooked a small vat of potato soup per odd new craving for All Things Potato, and watched the last three episodes of "Desperate Housewives." And no, I'm not trying to be themey. Honestly, the cooking part especially is relaxing. Except for that moment where the sauce was bubbling so hard it was splattering hot little tomato daggers all over my skin, t-shirt, and stove, and the temperature was on low. Now that pissed me off a little.

We have to start making lists of what we're going to do with our primetime over the summer. Move this task to the top of your to-do lists, people, because every good show is now Officially Over. We have to face it. Gone is "Survivor," "The Apprentice" (which sucked anyway--the prize is to either work with the Miss Universe pageant or makeover a mansion? what happened to Chicago's next skyscraper?), gone is "Lost," "Gilmore Girls," "Gray's Anatomy," "Desperate Housewives" (which I only watched after everything else was done with). "The OC" isn't on anymore, for pete's sake. I'll even miss "American Idol," even though this time I barely kept up with it, and basically just TiVo'd the finale and fast-forwarded to the end, just before the confetti release. That should have been a Summer Show. I have noticed this new show on VH1 featuring Mick Jagger's ex and these unpolished boys who wish to date her. That could be some mindless fluff. Then there's "Surreal Life," with Bronson Pinchot, Omarosa, and Janice Dickinson, of all people. Which only reminds me that "America's Next Top Model" is also over, and here I am sad again. "Real World: Austin" starts in a few weeks, and that should be amusing in the perpetual frat party/soap opera way the "Real World" always is. There's some show called "The Scholar" that seems somewhat compelling. However, for the most part, good, solid hour-long dramas and reality television events worth watching are going to be at a minimum. For like, three and a half months.

Penelope's Summer 2005: Operation Live through the Unfortunate but Apparently Necessaray Hiatus of Jeff Probst is...

• Read books. Like, actually read them. Instead of watching TV, and especially on the back porch, under the twinkly lights.
• Do more crafts, i.e. mod-podge/finally finish Recipe Project 2004, with mindless things like TBS movies, i.e. Pretty Woman for the thousand and fifth time, on in the background.
• Rent lots and lots of movies.
• Continue letter-writing campaign to Rat Bastards at CBS, beg them to bring back "Joan of Arcadia."
• And also, rent TV SHOWS. Such as..."Survivor: The Australian Outback." Which, actually, I fully intend to buy. Eegad, Brain, it's brilliant! This way we can move even beyond the brilliance of TiVo, watching exactly what we want, when we want, with no commercials AND no schedules, i.e. no waiting for Thursday nights! At Penelope's house, it's a party every night!

I must get moving immediately on this mission.

sweet virginia

it's this feeling that makes you want to weight your pockets with stones. this vibration and energy that makes you feel like shattering glass. it compels you to dive into water and incubate for a time. hover in a weightless and fluid existence. without the combustable pressure of experience and thought. it's the tick before it's time. that's the importance of water, to be carried off by a torrent that you have no control over, a personification of everything you feel. that isolation while your skin is humming- you'd wish it'd still. you've never felt so alone, and nothing but the embrace of God would save you.

the french say: Ne Me Quitte Pas (Do not leave me.) (Neh-may-quay-paw)

blossom 

ostrich 

don't go

if mendacious breaks up with the blog, i will seriously cry. don't break up with the blog, mendacious. i totally feel you. there is not-nothing happening, and we are so quote-unquote busy, however, we make time for things that are important to us. the blog should be important to us. its rank on the importance list should move up, way.

here are some not-nothings to add to the list:
i feel like crying a lot.
i feel sick a lot, like a simple granola bar could make me vomit.
i feel busy all the time, but really i'm not.
it's the house-hunting.
and the snails, they make me want to cry a little, hee hee.
and that man on the phone this morning, who immediately started screaming, he almost made me cry.
i've decided it's the not the job, i hate.
which i really do hate, with a passion--i figure why go halfway?
i like the paycheck and the benefits, but from now on, let's just be honest.
it's the working part i don't like.
who likes to work?
i want to sit home and watch things like "room raiders."
and dr. phil.
i miss dr. phil.
i would eat cheese and maybe write a little.
not neglect the blog so much.
there would be "projects," oh there would.
and also?
i very recently pinpointed the other source of the nausea and the crying and the feeling tired, besides hating work
:)
except, how do you just bring it up in conversation?
this is the biggest not-nothing

blue

i thought about breaking up with the blog. i went back to the blog i started before this blog. this is true. it's not that penelope and i haven't been getting along, we've just gotten "busy"... i forget to check in with myself. my rambling lacquacious self disappears with routine and listlessness. then i start thinking, what am i doing here. do i care? is it important? why do i continue? i think i'll just post picture after picture and not take the time to say anything- bcs i begin to think, i have lots of pictures and- well... i don't have anything to say. nothing interesting is happening, and yet i KNOW this can't be true.

My harsh and admonishing godmother has gotten the best of me because if i had not been sleep walking i would take the time to tell you about the following things:

i witnessed the birth of a baby.
i felt the vibrations of a voice through my hand.
i rode my bike in the light of the full moon.
i participated in a wretched art fair but incidently felt incredibly blessed by friends.
i helped to found a new church.
i'm still jobless.
the garden is growing.
i continue to drop glasses and even managed to flip a fresh icecube tray over in the freezer. there was stalgmites trailing to the bottom.
i still think about escaping the country.
i'm reading don quixote.
i had my birthday.
i had many conversations and emails and movies and i cut up a credit card.
my brother called and i barely recognized his voice.
currently a re-run of the O.C. is on and my right leg jogs with the thought of exercise.
oblivion pulls me and my mind races blank.

Killer SNAILS!

FROM www.easytogrowbulbs.com
Common Name:
Killer snails, predatory snails, "good" snails
Botanical Name:
Rumina decollata

Really tired of creating a beautiful garden only to have snails ravage it? Here's a "fight fire with fire" solution: decollate snails. Decollate snails are 1 1/2" long, conical-shelled predators that attack and kill common brown snails, garden snails and slugs. Like a little army that gathers strength and then protects your garden for years to come, these biological combatants are the weapons of choice for environmentally conscious landscape owners. Add decollate snails to your yard and watch the "bad" snail populations decline. A long term solution and a safe option for areas where children and pets play. Especially helpful for controlling brown snail populations after rainy seasons, when breeding conditions are ideal. Used for years by the CA citrus industry to protect valuable food crops. For more information, see Decollate Snail Information link below. Snail prices include free Priority Mail shipping. (For best pricing on larger quantities see containers of 500 snails at bottom of page.)

see i told you. 

giant african snails 

killer snail (man killers) 

gourds i have not lost 

gourds i have not lost 

It Takes 21 Days to Form a Habit

If that's really true, I feel like my clock is winding down. The cute little egg timer I bought last month for the stove is quickly running out of sand. I might very well be screwed.

I just need to know that someday (SOON) when I leave work, I will forget work. Completely, utterly. I won't mentally rehash conversations with clients while sitting at traffic lights, my stomach won't churn during dinner, remembering all the mistakes I made today and fearing what scariness will transpire tomorrow. I won't mull over current price plans and promotions while brushing my teeth, turning this phrase and that around, pondering the best way to explain a prorate.

Work should never be the centerpiece of one's life (unless you really do like it and want it to be). And it shouldn't even be blinked over after hours, much less on the weekend. Agggh.

Friday and Saturday nights I did celebrate because I MADE IT THROUGH THE FIRST WEEK OF TAKING CLIENT CALLS. Weeee! Go me! But after the toast, that is where it should end, thinking about this work stuff.

HOW DO I SHUT MY MIND OFF??????

How do I remember that work is simply the pesky nine-hour task I must get out of the way before going on my merry way, living my merry life, dreaming my merry dreams? The job enables the merry way, life, and dreams. The way, life, and dreams, should not, therefore, in any way, shape, or hideous form, be consumed with the job.

Am I right?

Or merely crazy.

Don't answer that, necessarily.

the worst blog ever.

the snail carnage continues.

onto other random thoughts: is anyone else sick of hearing nirvana songs on KROQ?

i was watching Sabrina the teenage witch because my mom wanted to show me the actor who plays Turk on scrubs was on this show once. i didn't believe her, then i thought about it and thought that i remembered seeing him on there too. anyway one of the quircks of the shows is that rumors spread (i just got bored of my question) anyway harvey was pregnant and he held his hands on the top and bottom of his fake belly and then i thought of my pregnant friends and i thought- they do hold their hands that way. it was funny.no really. it was.

it's in the brioche

after my carnage post i went to my friends house. the very first thing she asked me after having supped on tea and digestives was: did i want some "escargot in brioche". i took an extra long sip muling over the question. i blinked. i examined my nails and the china pattern on the tea cup. meanwhile she had pulled from the freezer a box of trader joe's escargot in brioche. there it was again. escargot. snails. snails in brioche. i wondered what kind of snails, but i kept sipping my tea. she said her friend had brought them from the trader joes up in grass valley bcs they rarely have them here. packed in ice all the way from grass valley.

is this a joke i wondered. she shook the box to assert its contents. she went on and on about how good they were. i said, yes. sure. let's go for it. and i thought, did you read my post- do you think this is cosmically funny? how am i suppose to respond to this sort of universal challenge? i had to aquiese. i had to embrace the fact that they would be flavored with butter and garlic. i ate 3. each one- trying not to curdle with the fact that i was eating snail. i persevered. they sat like quarter inch steel in my stomach but for all i know it could've been the heavily garliced brioche. that's enough of a digestive tackle. the snails were curled up in the little cavity of the brioche. it had a little lid so you could peek at the contents. it wasn't unlike a stuffed mushroom. i did not examine them for fear i would find the cute little antenna. they weren't bad. i would even say tasty. but somehow i saw myself eating my words. over and over. with salt and pepper. it wasn't without a smile.

bruised

Today my accomplishments include:
1) banging my left knee very, very hard on the bike console at the gym. You know the bike where your legs are horizontal instead of vertical? All it takes is shifting yourself forward one inch.
2) getting really and truly lost in the parking lot at the end of the day, not knowing where I parked my car.

On brighter notes, here is what is in store for this week:
1) mendacious' birthday!!! And we all better sign her yearbook for real this time. Because she was being serious last time and we missed it. (Cue: hang heads in shame).
2) a weekend of nothingness!!! No places to go, no people to see. Ahhhhh.

It's finally spring here in North Cackalacky. The birds are teeming from their nest. The plants grow so fast I swear you could sit out back and watch them.

I think tonight I want to write. Not like, write. But jot some notes. I haven't jotted in months. And I need to make plans, big plans, to combat the soul-sucking force of corporate America. Like, what will my best-seller be about? And this time it has to be something I would want to pick off the shelves and read myself. Which is hard, maybe too tall of an order.

Here is what has already been done:
1) Magic, i.e. witches and wizards
2) Jeans that fit four different girls perfectly
3) Unfortunate but winsome orphans (many times over)
4) Discovery of own royalty in formative years
5) Being unpopular in high school
6) Embracing lost dryer socks by wearing mismatched socks (GEEZ, why didn't I think of that?)

I'm opening a Suggestion Box, please feel free to submit as many entries as you'd like.

carnage

the time 11:05pm.
object: hunt for snails

armed with a flashlight and wearing my clogs, i went outside. my mom accompanied me as she is a more hostile enemy to these snails than i am. she relishes the kill, to save all her baby plants and citrus trees from the slimy trail and decimation of priceless foliage and tender buds. until last night. she seemed to be getting squimish. it seems that now we know about them (poor helix aspera) we sort of loathe to kill them. not to mention that they are food, and it is a waste that not even a duck can get to them, but as i've said before ducks are indescriminate. i wish it were a solution. my brother used to get a nickle a snail when we were little (the last heavy el nino cycle) and i won't tell you what he used to do them, except to say that he was a typical boy, the italics use of boy, and that to perhaps lead you, he used to tie string to the legs of beetles- watching them circle round and round until their leg gave way. i hesitate to assert that if we were in a post apocalyptic environment such as found in the movie Delicatessin, i'd eat snails. i don't know if i would. and whose to say garlic and butter wouldn't be rationed also. how many would eat escargo then?

we killed over 30 snails that night after weeks of killing 10-20 at a time on various nights before. you can see we have a problem. but for the most part we're an organic garden so no strong pesticide will enter our grounds. i can't kill them when their cute little antenna heads are poking out of their shells, pulling themselves along or hanging off a leaf. i'd be a terrible hunter. i know this. poor fuzzy bunnies. but i would if i had to, i've eaten rabbit before. it's at times like this, and why i can sympathize with vegetarians, that i know the world isn't as it was intended to be. stay with me here- there's a passage in the bible which you've probably heard before from Isaiah that says "The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will like down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling (lion will feed) together; and a little child will lead them." This verse is a favorite of writers talking about anything related to the rapture or the end of the world. I usually think "creepy" when i hear it, mainly bcs I picture Mulder "the truth is out there" or an old man in a bunker, whispering ferventantly to the last hope of the world- usually a man-woman team who've fought to save the world AND THEY'RE PISSED! But i think few examine the beauty of what that means- to peacefully co-exist, where the world is back in alignment, isn't made up of kill or be killed, or fear of death- to me it quite literally represents Paradise (which is Persian for "walled garden" where the king would walk with his favored subjects.)

But for now there are snail carcasses lining the pathways and the rain that tells me they'll come again. It's nothing personal, it's just the unnatural order of things.

marker

to all my friends who've left an indelible mark upon my brain.

not that this happened to me but...

you know the girl who tries to get people to sign their yearbook and no one does? it's like in those cliched highschool movie moments where the main character flips through the pages of the yearbook (closeup shot) and it's blank. ah epiphany! ah clarity! that's why she's invisible (buffy ref), that's why she went on that shooting rampage. now i know none of you made me want to cry. some of the things i suggest may seem more metaphoric than an actual earnest suggestion. but not even 1 of my 2 readers could bring themselves to write anything. not even penelope could find sympathy for this wistful imagining on my part. but it's like the kid whose birthday it is wants to play a game and everyone decides it's entirely too lame so no one does. and the kid is left alone on the field. clearly his heart is being compacted into a black little ball of malice and indifference but no one cares.

i was also going to talk about my love for this community i have and the possibility of laser tag next week but it got erased- and none of this has the brilliance of my lost entry so i have to say adieu for now- i'm off to make an egg sandwich.

ROCK ROCK

ROCKEM. Please note that I could get in trouble for writing this, because they have my signature on about a million different forms, all promising not to disclose and PRIVATE company information. But I won't say the name of the company. And is this really damaging?

Here is what we do, every morning. Picture it: A class of 43 dressed in business casual, rubbing sleep from their eyes yet simultaneously coming down from the adrenaline rush of Avoiding the Cops While Getting to Work on Time. We might do a puzzle, like a crossword puzzle or word scrambler, to "break the ice." Then we all stand, and this week's Designated Cheerleader comes up to the middle of the room and shouts something to the effect of, "WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO FOR OUR CUSTOMERS?"

"ROCK ROCK ROCKEM!"

ROCKEM is, non-shockingly, an acronym used as a foundation for Quality Customer Service. I won't reveal the letters' meaning, as it would surely be stepping over the line.

And then we learn. Then we pass around a beach ball, each saying something we learned. It's to the point we all vie for the beach ball, so as to not be one of the last people to hold the beach ball and therefore have nothing left to share. Because there has to be 43 different things that we learned.

Please feel free to use these mental images for your own use one morning when you are perhaps having trouble feeling good about your day. Because it's hilarious. Laugh it up.

it's not you.

it's me. that's why were breaking up. i'm just kidding. at least i don't think so. i think i still have things to say. less focused things but nevertheless.

i have to tell you my 80's prom was transcendant. totally. this is what i would've wanted prom to be. in high school i had a "banquet" and all i can think of in association with it is wild rice and chicken- glossy dresses and updo's. obviously i didn't go. the idea of dates or limos and crosages sounded utterly mortifying. there wasn't any dancing either. not that i would've danced at the time or been at all confident. but now i am. and i do. also i was probably working at my acting company at the time too- i recall missing several key things bcs of it including grad nite- but i'm altogether convinced i'm glad i had an excuse not to go.

i wouldn't have called myself a misfit but in general i was. at the 80's prom i did reject the pastel dress in honor of more punk rock attire- i was like school girl meets over accessorized rocker. it was a good time. decidely i had the biggest hair there. why i didn't get an award for that i'll never know. i sat with my friend in the corner when the king and queen were being elected and i said, this is probably what i would've been doing in high school. arms crossed in the dark. sitting disaffected in the corner. we laughed. and i felt a click- a totally comfortable feeling among a band of people i didn't want to ever let go. it was a complete senior prom moment. i was like damn, there's never going to be another prom like this one. we even had a principal and some killer punch. and we all took our picture together, stayed till the end of the night and dispersed into the air.

today is graduation day. i wish i had a yearbook for people to sign. (okay i know! come on commentators- sign my yearbook, today only! and REMEMBER my name is mendacious- take me down memory lane and help me remember why this year was a total BLAST.)