Search

I'm really not a mean person, but I'm excessively entertained by certain mean things. Like Al Roker falling over last week during the hurricane on the Today show--and I love Al Roker. If he got hurt, it would not have been so funny, it really would not have. But there is something hopelessly amusing, every time there is a hurricane and they send some poor, hopeless sap out in the high winds. Ridiculous! Pan to a flag, or a tree or something to show how hard it's blowing outside. A smashed traffic light--something. But no, instead, they send out a live reporter and a camera crew. In my town, it's always the scrub at the bottom of the totem pole. On the Today show, I guess Al Roker still gets stuck with the job. Hi-larious! I can't help myself. Lying in bed that morning (flanked by the doggies) before work, I laughed and laughed when he could hardly hear Matt and Katie in NY, and then when his notes blew out of his hands, and then when they panned back to show the guy whose job it was to hug Al Roker's legs. In fact, I think it's fair to say that made my whole day.

Also last week, I taunted the office fish. I admit it, it was cruel and uncalled for. I said, Look at him. He's going to bite it. Every day, I said it, and I would sometimes get lost staring at his bowl, waiting for him to kick off. I would google "death symptoms for Bettas" and tell everyone the signs: he's hanging out at the top of the bowl all the time! He's on his way out, I'm telling you.

His name was Search, and he was a three-year-old red Betta. And he was cute--he lived in a peace lily bowl. We lost one other fish here once when it got too cold over the weekend, and we've had some issues recently with temperature, where our own toes are about to fall off, and the water in the two fishbowls gets really cold, and the fish get really still, and it's scary. Benecio the blue Betta in the fishbowl nextdoor to Search's bowl, just this morning, required some warmer water to be added to his bowl, and I was genuinely worried. But that was after I found Search dead.

He lived a long, good life. In fish years, he was like, 5,023. Yet it was sad to see him hovering, pale and lifeless, on the bottom of the bowl over the glass rocks.

And I flushed him before too many could see. I did. I had to. First of all, the bowl sits right by my desk--I don't want to look at that. It was sick, man. Second of all, I didn't want to needlessly upset anyone. There was no place to bury him, I didn't want him just sitting in the trash wrapped in a paper towel all day--it was the proper thing to do. Third, well, I feel a little responsible. Could I have caused Search's death by egging him on?

To compensate, I removed the jaunty ribbon from Search's bowl and made him an epitath on a mini post-it note:

R.I.P. Search
You were a good fishy.

Yummy Mummies

Yummy Mummies, by Penelope.

A tasty chocolate cookie with mini chocolate chips and a white chocolate coating. Two mini chocolate chips serve as eyes, and a toothpick is used to score mummy bandage-like lines on the body.

Also worth mentioning is that these cookies, before the white chocolate coating, look remarkably like Mr. Hanky.

Midnight Spider

I interrupted this large spider midmeal over my bed. I tried to scoop up this fiesty guy and his meal but the legs of the cob-webspider was all that was left. He reared up his pincers and front legs a couple of times and after blinding him with the flash and stil not getting a good picture I let him go. I have inquired to "bugman" of "whatsthatbug.com" to see if he knows. So perhaps in the future I will be able to tell you. Unless one of you knows? Please do tell.

Malaise

malaise

One entry found for malaise.
Main Entry: mal·aise
Pronunciation: m&-'lAz, ma-, -'lez
Function: noun
Etymology: French malaise, from Old French, from mal- + aise comfort -- more at EASE
1 : an indefinite feeling of debility or lack of health often indicative of or accompanying the onset of an illness
2 : a vague sense of mental or moral ill-being ...a malaise of cynicism and despair

FTA

hello. nothing new to report.

Today
Oct 28
Mostly Sunny
69°/51° 10%
Feels like partly cloudy with a chance of rain.
58/44

day 5- no really. (rant)

i was being less than optimistic in my post yesterday which i wrote this morning bcs suddenly it started raining and wouldn't stop. and i had a pang in the chest twice at the thought of being unemployed again, and my friend continues to set unattainable goals which she pretends are realistic then when you expect them she rationalizes her way out of them, thereby crushing your spirit and making you cry, which leaves you alone at 12am eating m n'ms and writing a blog while she's in her bedroom having a conversation with her 'husband', even though earlier she complains that she'll be getting no sleep at all... bcs i see her "hurrying" to bed. right.

keep in mind i see her maybe once a year and she treats this week as if i see her everyday or am some sort of roommate who she can chose to ignore or engage depending on a whim. am i an attention whore? it makes me wonder. but i would never treat my guests so horribly- i mean there's one thing such as personal space and independence then there's just a disconnect-

for instance- this whole day was suppose to be an "us" day- you know what i mean when friends term it that. Her words, not mine. there's a certain understanding that the day will encompass all of what the two of you are TOGETHER. keep in mind this whole week i've spent whole days wandering the city by myself- and really it's thrilling. i love alone time but then the scale starts to tip and i'm in moody, depressive, i'm ALONE, zone. and yes as much as i love chicago- i do not want to comment on the shennanigans of otters to myself. "oh miss, did you say something?" "yes, to my IMAGINARY FRIENDS!" my bad. i thought i'd have more to occupy me. but i am not fucking spending $25 on looking at king tuts mask and a dagger. so clearly this was not the time to suddenly decide that it's all about you. first she says although it's her day off, which she said she specifically took so we could spend the day together- she needs to go into work... her choice. but that i won't even notice bcs she's going in early. then i call her and she says she doesn't feel good and no longer wants to go to the restaurant i want to go to. i complain- since she feels this way bcs who can survive on a banana for breakfast and not feel dizzy... anyway by the time i get there she's now okay with the restaurant choice but then lets it slip - like "depending on what you're going to do" i might go home. the hell?! what I"M GOING TO DO!!

bcs she got up at 5 bcs she had to work- and we're going to be spending 2 nights out past 12 (bcs she had to buy us tickets to 2 musicals- when really the musicals are about her- fuck musicals. that's what i say- but bcs i know she enjoys them i'm going to go and not complain.) and she just really needs a nap and doesn't now want to walk around the city with me in the rain (even though i'd already given up hope of a boat tour but that wasnt enough of a sacrifice) and if i can't suggest something then (even though we were going to go shopping for her)... and then she gets mad when i start giving her crap about it- and the day never recovers primarily bcs then during lunch she tries to rally, half-heartedly and says well maybe a movie- except i can't see the one movie i alone suggested to you prior to your coming, bcs i HAVE to see it with I----. you know how insignificant that phrase makes me feel- very, very, very small. it may seem nothing but i see her once a year and she can't even concede to seeing a movie with me. bcs it has to be with the man she's spent the last 6 years of her life with, 24/7, 7 days a week. thanks.

i spend 9 minutes on the phone ROAMING to vent to my 2nd friend who assumed i wouldn't be spending so much time alone- and i had previously asked her and been denied, to take if not a full day, a 1/2 day off- just for kicks. like, well i'm going here and i love being alone so much i almost didn't bother to ask you.

fucking fuck.
so i spent 4 hours+ in a movie theatre- reading, then watching the beautiful but god awfully fucking vapid marie antoinette- which actually matched my mood perfectly- just brooding ennui the whole movie and all i could think was her poor kid dies alone in a jail cell @ 5 of TB or something fucking god awful that i mightve as well seen blooddripping down all the walls of versailles as you knew the horror literally awaiting them and to see them hopelessly not "getting it"... and then only to meet my friend for her to ask if i've found a restaurant- yes. yes, i walked around in the rain so we could fucking find a place even though i asked you to find one for us on the internet- and after a torturously long dinner, it was a good thing she was chatty, we had to sit thru 2+ hours of a fucking pirate queen musical, which lacked the heart of ireland and the grit of piracy... i mean do i get to see Rent? or maybe Spamalot?... NO. could the day have gotten any worse. i can ONLY hope tomorrow i recover from the vileness that was today- and finish my vacation on a high note. and VOW never to visit friends again on this premise again. ever. like maybe when i go to chicago IF i come back to chicago again- i "might" let them know... might. bcs why expect to spend time with people when they cleary care more about themselves in that moment than your friendship.

M.fucking.OUT.

MENSA

I was going to wait to relate this to you when the "test results" came. But I'll tell you now- so that it'll build in a beautiful anticipation. Do i qualify? The thought of not getting into Mensa is only slightly less disappointing then not following in the footsteps of Geena Davis. But it does go to prove my point that I'm only skirting on the upper eschilon of intelligence, alas, so goes the pattern of my life.

The day started with a little flutter. I was soon to realize that I need more challenge. 2 years out of a lifetime of education, by degrees I became stupid. Study has its worthy purpose, perhaps only that you will sound more intelligent when discoursing about something. But why not? Isn't it time to learn french? or take a figure drawing class. Everyonceandawhile I deliberately study things that are blows to my intelligence, my skill- i like it. Why not?

But MENSA>The Purpose of Mensa is... 'To identify and foster human intelligence for the benefit of humanity' 'To provide a stimulating intellectual and social environment for its members' 'To encourage research into the nature, characteristics, and uses of intelligence' ... hummm. That's not why I want to join.... and if I qualify would I join? I wanted to do this because ... I was bored. I'm a narcissist. I want to find a Mensa husband? Mmm. That's more like it.

The test was on the caltech campus. Very pretty. I couldn't find a map but a pond had 3 signs that said the same thing. I did eventually find the building- and I was sitting across from a Production Acct that works at Paramount. Nice. Too bad she wasn't a showrunner. I might've had to bail on my boss. We both laughed about the test and took our two free pencils. Not the erasers, as the man named Mr. Felt said. We need the erasers, he said. But the bookmark you can take: "How smart are you?"

I totally bombed the math section- The word problem began something about 8.4 gallons of water and .60 cents for a certain amt. of gas and he's got 50 gallons and I was like fuck, my eyes are blurring- just make up something i don' t care. I don't even actually have the time to- Click. Please put your pencil down. Damn-it!

The test itself was comprised of maybe 7 sections- 15-20 questions, in 5-7 minute incremints with a 12 minute problem solving section with 50 questions that no one but 4 people in this man's run as proctor, have finished. I got to question 35.

They also told us a story and 45 minutes later we had to remember things about it- good thing it was about Greek Drama- knew that degree was going to come in handy. Except when the question was, Did the chorus bow down at the sharp note in the flute or did they just simply stop their wild thronging... uh?

The section before this was most edifying to my ego- words. words. words. what do they mean? somehow i knew biovauc meant encampent even though i didn't know how to use it in a sentence nor pronounce it. Propinquity got me but I can't remember if I actually guessed right or not. My first instinct was correct- nearness, but whether I capitulated to my guess or not I can't remember.

My final thought, besides me, smiling, with a sly smirk as I drove away, with one last glimpse of the school of chemical something something, is that I have OCD about bubbles. Yes, fairly monkish of me but true nonetheless. I have to work hard to ignore the pressure of changing my answers to make a more pleasing pattern- and not only that but the probability that there shouldn't be 3 d's in the row- that gives me endless anxiety.

Catherine Hate-Her Jones

I have decided that in addition to garlic, Old Bay seasoning, and certain seafoods, I have one more pregnancy-related aversion: Catherine Zeta-Jones.

I just don't enjoy her anymore. Not that I ever particularly did, but she never used to bother me. I remember years ago when she was on the Rosie show, I almost sort of liked her, with her dark shiny eyes--there was a cuteness about her. I did like the first Zorro movie; she was borderline entertaining as a prissy diva star in America's Sweethearts. And I didn't even care when she began whoring herself out to T-Mobile. I thought it was weird, yes, but then Joan Cusack was doing the same thing for US Cellular, and Harry Connick, Jr. for SunCom, so I just assumed it was becoming a new norm, and that was fine. Sad, but fine. There are worse commercials.

And I never really cared that she was married to old man Michael Douglas, or that she was involved in that stalker lawsuit--like, who would stalk a star, much less Catherine Zeta-Jones? How boring. I guess overall, I just never really thought twice about Catherine Zeta-Jones, one way or the other.

Then recently, randomly, she started to get under my skin. I can't say I particularly loathe her--certainly not as much as Old Bay seasoning. Or Mr. Peepers, or... Carrot Top. I can't say I would willingly devote that much energy to the cause. But I really can't stand the sight of her. I don't want anything to do with the Zorro sequel, I would never sign up for T-Mobile, just on principle, and after this past weekend's Saturday Night Live? Blyech. I would rather eat a big fat garlic clove, plain. No skit was funny, aside from Weekend Update, and this is sad, because SNL recently has been getting a lot better, I think. There are lately a lot fewer skits where you're just like...wha? Or where you're sitting there, slack-jawed with eyes glazed over, plain bored or uncomfortable and embarassed that a particularly flat skit seems like it will never end. However, SNL with Catherine Zeta-Jones brought it all back, with every skit. Or at least 80 percent of the skits, which is all I got through before I decided that a) an hour of my life had been lost forever and b) my time would be better spent deconstructing the psychological trainwreck that is Danny Bonaducci.

Besides that she's unfunny, I'm not even sure what the problem is. Just like Old Bay--is it the celery salt? So seemingly benign, yet so deeply offensive. I don't know. I just know that I plan to stay far, far away from both until such time that I don't run from the room with my Vomit Face on in reaction to the sight of either.

FTA- shoot day @ descanso gardens

this was descanso back in september. gorgeous eh? beautiful dahlias, other flowers i can't name- something, something i would say. fantastic. i want my garden to look like this one dynamic strip of living things. if i had an actual camera i would've done it better justice. i like descanso a bit more than it's uppity sister garden hunington. it has a touch of homespun and wild- alittle more harmonious interplay with mother nature. but then again hunington has art and begs you to be elitist. or at least dress in a train with a lace umbrella. both of these places makes me crave high tea. whose with me?

cancer cell

when just experiencing it for yourself won't do

Cultural Anthropology

I hope you weren't too bored by the interview... the startling lack of sarcastic commentary gave me pause.

A few days back my friend Beth called me up and said she had a free extra ticket to DI and the MISFITS at the KeyClub. I give credit to my friend Beth who didn't put up with my usual excuses like, it's late, I hate parking, I hate going to that part of Sunset, let alone that it was a hardcore punk show. She said, you only live once. After a few hemsandhaws, of which I am always guilty of, I went. My reason being, you do only live once and I rarely explore any music genre if not by force. and they are LEGENDARY.

How to Fit In at a Punk Show:
Step 1: Wear Black, you can never go wrong with this favorite, but not all black, that would be goth, you do not belong at this show.
Step 2: Over accessorize on silver/metal jewelry or wear dark/heavy makeup, as in clearly abuse eyeliner, but don't go goth. That's too far. You do not belong at this show.
Step 3: Mowhawks? Hair Dye? Lucky me I have pink hair. This automatically gives me a leg up. And in addition, since it covers my entire head I can't be accused of being a pansy who just has highlights. I'm hardcore.
Step 4: Wear earplugs. There's no excuse not to. You can hear the music, your ears don't bleed, and you won't get tenatus when you're older.

I do hate going to this part of Sunset. The last painful memory seared into my brain was a $271 moving violation, as I wandered through a yellow because I was "lost" looking for the SaddleRanch- which you can be sure is 1) a meat market 2) a breeding ground for post-reality tv stars esp yummy ones named Blair from RR, operating the mechanical bull 3) no, I won't tell you why i was there. Now, not to mention the slew of parking tickets I used to get when I was younger... They have since greatly improved the signage- which can be as much as 3ft of signs and regulations. Having no cash and generally being a cheapskate- I parked .48miles away. When walking is involved I remember, hell I lived in Chicago. This is cake. And since I parked south on Doheny I got to hoof it up vertical style and passed by a FrankLloydWright house. Nice.

People Watching: Plenty. Mainly you watch for people who "don't belong" or are clearly out of their element. You'd think this would be me, but you'd be wrong. When Beth called to see how I was post show- I bristled at her asking me if I'd recovered. She's a shock and awe girl and I'm way too non-pulsed to be flipped out by the climbing gear that was hanging down from her friend Rob's earlobes... (these two were also responsible for the grunion run fiasco.), or the copious amounts of sweat streaming off the leadsinger... remember I 24houritman. And coincidentally had flashbacks about it when a kid started thrashing his head around to the left of me, showering me with his misty hair sweat. Thanks.

Suspects: A tall coco-colored guy wearing a DaveMirra Fox logo hat and a stylish jacket. He belongs on Sunset, just not at this show. I love him because he was one of our main moshpit buffers. His two charges, because he was indeed an escort, were like versions of young Hanson, with their stringy blonde hair and waif bodies. The youngest one was eager to know if his guard liked the show and he seemed to be enjoying it, occassionally nodding his head along to the music, and pushing people back into the mosh when it seemed appropriate.

The other two people I watched but enjoyed much less was a straightlaced looking guy, dressed appropriately but his lithe, or as some people might say skinny white girl-friend, was in tow. These two were the most annoying, bcs for 1/2 the show they were in my direct vacinity. Faux-moshing. I wanted to vomit. Go back up the balcony. To make matters worse the third-wheel was there, and with those I always sympathize... The boy wanted to get closer to the stage, the girl clearly not- you can see the horrible dilemna and I felt very sorry for the boy.

Watch the hot security break up fights: Besides watching a chick fight break out then another fight- which one of the guys actually got brought up on stage- the lead singer said, we don't do this among our people- I thought, where the hell am I, this is the better version of Suburbia- that movie. Nice. AND they even threw out cold bottled water to the audience. Ah, life in 2005.

I'd entered into a tame version of punk/horror reality. The kind of place where there's bottled water, where fights are broken up quickly, where there's hanson lookalikes... Where exactly was I? The lead singer of DI kept screaming, as they must, about Fuck the Man, and don't talk to cops... I wanted to laugh but enjoyed being able to flip the bird carteblanche, because quite frankly, isn't this all just a little bit passe? The kids seemed to be taking this older guy seriously so it still apparently speaks to something, taps into an angst I no longer have, most certainly, did have. But what does one do when you want to yell, excuse me mr. angry punkrock man hasn't this all been said before and doesn't it eventually lose meaning and isn't it a cliche?

Get a shot of Vodka I guess and call it a night... spend the rest of the evening wondering about cultural context, assimilation, image as identity, negating labels... decide to wear khaki's next time.

Offending Seeds

I picked these fuzzy velvet seed pods and set them next to my desk- because they were sooo cool. And remarkably hard to open, and I pondered over the tight seal- Until on that hot night a few days ago, one of them exploded in my face. Had I done my research I would have known that "Forces build up inside the pod during the drying process, and when strong enough, the pod pops. The best description I’ve seen states: “as a pod dries, tensions are set up in the wall of the pod eventually causing it to split along two lines of weakness. As the two halves curl back, suddenly released like a tense spring, they flick out the seeds inside in an explosive manner.”

But even that description doesn't do it justice, as my first thought was: do we have poltergiests? and was it a cat? as I was being pelted by seed and husk, narrowly missing my eye- i whip my head around left and right. Even mom, master gardener that she is, had no idea the seed pods blew up. The wreckage was in a 10ft radius around me. So then later that night when i was jolted awake by explosive sounds followed by a light pelting of seeds I mental noted my conclusion: nature, a fairly amazing thing.

wednesday thoughts

so here's what i think today: i do not feel like using capital letters. and i don't think white rice belongs in salads, because it looks like maggots. and i like white rice, in fact, i sort of love white rice, with it's popcorn-y goodness. yes, popcorn, like when you add the butter and salt to a pot of jasmine? it smells like popcorn, i swear. and as a survivor buff, how could i not like white rice? i like it especially on the side with half a whole chicken, if that makes sense. i like it in bean burritos, i like it with black pepper on top. but in salad, no. we had santa fe salad today for salad club, which is where you sign up for an ingredient based on the recipe, then they throw it all together on wednesday into this ginormous, mother-of-all salad bowls. i'm serious, you've never seen a salad bowl this big. it's bigger than a bistro table.

anyway, even when the salads sound gross, they end up tasty. like the asian chicken salad. the kitchen sink salad. and the santa fe salad, i frankly thought sounded a little gross, but i brought my 1 can sliced black olives and tried it anyway. and i really didn't even taste the rice, so i shouldn't complain, but on the other hand, if you can't taste the rice, then why bother with it. it's wormy, it's weird, it's an aesthetic displeasure. ix-nay on the ice-ray. and i feel like a lot of salads use brown rice, and somehow that's acceptable, but it's really not. it's a whole other subject, really, about how brown rice, while nutrionally containing more value and probably fewer carcinogens, tastes like burnt feet.

here's what else i think today: it's around the full moon, and i can feel it. normally i would call this pms, whether it was that time or not, but seeing as i don't have pms right now, i'm just going to blame the moon. i suppose i could just blame the pregnancy, but i don't feel like it. i blame too much on the little baby, it's not his or her fault. it's that big lovely moon in the sky. i'm just crabby about how, when i ASK for a little help with the dishes--just emptying the dishwasher, so i can begin attacking the mountain in the sink--i'd like to get it, without flack. and ESPECIALLY without swearing, that's just crossing a line.

i could have left the dishes for the next day, which i do quite frequently, because, why not. but there was literally not one little bit of room to spare in that shallow sink for the two extra plates and frying pan that needed soaking. and you know how much harder these things are to clean the next day if they've been sitting out on the counter for a day, rather than soaking in the sink? yes, that much harder. traumatically harder. and granted, the dishwasher-emptying task would have taken five minutes, so...why not do it myself? why even ask, or why even get mad when declined. because it would have taken FIVE MINUTES, that's why. the whole thing made me cry, and a day later, i would have cried all over again. stupid, pretty moon, all low in the sky. it really is your fault.

Interview with Penelope and Mendacious

[The interview took place in the back room of an inauspicious LA restaurant. Penelope conferenced in. The reporter, one Johann of Ulm, took the time to tell you the truth.]


1)If you could have any three people, living or dead, comment on your blog, who would they be (and why)?


PENELOPE: Donald Trump, just so I can go around imitating in a gruff, bad-haircut voice the cheesy one-liner he would come up with.
-Tom Cruise, so I can write back and tell him to free Katie, and that as a rule, he should not spawn.
-Jack Handey, for a classic Deep Thought.

MENDACIOUS: St. Augustine, only in hopes that he would quote me in his religious writings.
-Richard Feynman, I heard for a genius-physicist he was a really good story teller.
-Cathy Lantz, she doesn't read my blog and I want her to.


2)How much time would you say you two have collectively invested in blogging?


PENELOPE:On the average, mendacious would be maybe 2 hours weekly, and penelope would be like, 20 minutes. Penelope sucks.

MENDACIOUS: I'm not good at statistics.


3)Is there any subject that is ‘unbloggable?’

PENELOPE: I don't really like to touch politics, simply because I don't know enough about them. Which is sad, considering the only time I did write about politics was to say I voted. Also, generally speaking, politics just seem to make people really, really heated. That stresses me out.

MENDACIOUS: My real feelings. I keed. I keed. That, and about specific events, salacious commentary (I have a conscience), and perhaps x-rated dreams.


4)How much money have you made off your blog advertisements?


PENELOPE:Approximately...nothing. I'm not even sure why we have them sometimes, other than the dream that we will someday make a nickel and then be faced with, between us, the dilemma of who get three cents and who gets two. Also, it's entertaining to watch the ads change based on our topics. It makes me feel powerful.


MENDACIOUS: Pen, we have adverts? I wonder if there's a way you could determine which advert got you the revenue. Then we could see if people were drawn to our talk about spiders or bunt cake.

5)Why blog?


PENELOPE:Obviously not for the money made from advertising. Whenever I write, particularly non-fiction, I like to spout off some umbrella reason for it like, "I write to present what is both unique and common about myself. People can relate to what they have in common, and be entertained or intrigued or whatever, by what is unique. Because we are all alike, yet different, like snowflakes."

MENDACIOUS: Grad school taught us that we actually had to have an answer when people ask us this question. Why? I don't know. I will say though my primary interest is to convey that life is never about the big things- your life is comprised of small steps, seemingly meaningless, but when observed from a far reveals an extraordinary different-ness. I'm invested in minutae, that and I'm a narcissist.


6)Penelope, you’re pregnant, what’s that like?


PENELOPE: Exciting, terrifying, suprising, tiring, and amusing. Also, clumsy. I drop things a lot, and sometimes almost fall when doing simple things like sitting down on the couch. Of course, how this is different from my usual existence, I can't really say, except that now I have an excuse. It's exciting, obviously, because it's a little human in there and who knows how it will turn out? It's terrifying, because it's a human in there and who knows how it will turn out. Also, historically I have very little experience with children, much less babies. My main goal will be to not injure the baby. I'm doing a lot of reading on the subject of care and feeding, so hopefully that will help. I'm a little worried, too, about my tweaky black labrador and that she might eat the baby--that would be bad.

It's surprising because sometimes I forget, and then I catch a glance of my reflection at almost six months pregnant, and I'm like, whoa. Who is that? Surreal.It's tiring for obvious reasons, but I imagine actually raising the baby will be way more tiring, so I'm not complaining because at least now I get to sleep a lot. And it's amusing because of all the dumber and flakier than usual things I do, and also watching the belly move. That part is very cute.


7) If I was thinking about starting up my own blog, what advice would you give me?


PENELOPE:Make sure it's either about something that you'll be able to write about for a really long time and not get bored, or that it's about absolutely nothing, which will ensure you'll never get bored. Because nothing is sadder than starting a blog and then leaving it to fester in cyberspace, unwanted and unloved. I did that once, and I still feel guilty about it.

MENDACIOUS: Blogging about nothing is always better than blogging about something, but I find I get bored no matter what. Make sure that your primary motivation is to write for itsownsake- even if no one sees it, it doesn't make the expression any less beautiful or the content anylesstrue. Unless youre a pathalogical liar. Besides that it's tragic for a writer to lose their voice. I was terrified through grad school that once I graduated I would stop writing, this reminds me that it will never leave me.


8)As a fellow blogger, I know what it’s like to post when you’re not at your best. Yet we still post. Is there something wrong with us?


PENELOPE:Yes.

MENDACIOUS: I wish Pen had said, what exactly... is it better to attempt or to be assured success and never try?


9)How do the words, ‘blogger temporarily unavailable’ make you feel?


PENELOPE:Sad and lonely, like a gigolo.

MENDACIOUS: At first I thought you meant an actual person, like fellow blogger. Then I thought oh, maybe the site. That is sad. It reminds one that you should always back up your writing. I haven't yet, but still. We live on a fragile fabric of order, one slip into chaos and our blog is gone forever.


10) How do the words, ‘I love you’ make you feel?


PENELOPE: The opposite of how a gigolo feels.

MENDACIOUS: Like I'm dreaming- like it's a phrase I've never lived.


11) If your blog was turned into a movie, who would you want to play each other?


PENELOPE:Ooo, I put a lot of thought into this question when it came up in random conversation a few years ago, and I decided on Jenna Elfman for me. Does that make me shallow?

MENDACIOUS: Kate Winslet. (I wouldn't want her to gain weight for the role though) that or Brooke Shields. Are there any fat actresses in Hollywood besides Kristi Alley? Maybe I'll just play myself- what'd I get that damn degree for anyway.



12)Would you say you’re more ‘Blog or die’ or rather ‘Blog when I’m bored enough’?


PENELOPE:Don't blog when I'm hungry. I can't think straight.

MENDACIOUS:Currently, Blog or Die. I wish I lived the rest of my life like that, and even then I occassionally miss days.


13)Now ladies, why don’t you share with us your deepest, darkest, most randy secret?


PENELOPE:I absolutely don't want my belly button to go from an innie to an outie, and for aesthetic reasons only.

MENDACIOUS:[Laughter, followed by inaudible conversation with producer] No comment.

14)At what point do you decide to stop blogging?


PENELOPE: When the Internet is no longer in style?
MENDACIOUS: When I've given up hope or maybe started to write screenplays on a regular basis. I have a MSWord journal and cool leather bound one- They both pretty much dried up when I started blogging, and yet, the content isn't really the same. So there's a loss no matter how you look at it.


15)What is the meaning of life?

PENELOPE:Why, it's 42, of course.

[laughter, applause from Mendacious: At this point a fight erupts at the next table. A roll hits the interviewer, hopelessly blinding him for 3seconds. A person is thrown up against Mendacious, her IcedTea wooshing on her rented trend-ready outfit, "I thought we were in a backroom for a reason!!". Penelope yells, "Did you eat? Why are you screaming! Johann?!" After several minutes of chaos, Mendacious comes back and says, "Where were we? Pen, are you there?"]


16)What should readers expect for the upcoming year?


PENELOPE: Penelope's adventures in baby-raising. The lifestyle of the soon-to-be rich and famous mendacious--which totally rhymes, so it therefore is a certainty.

MENDACIOUS:I think I'll probably be jobless again. That or on a trip to Indonesia. Could be both.


17)One last thing ladies. What do you look forward to?


PENELOPE:The season premiere of Scrubs!!!

MENDACIOUS: That the fictional raft will one day escape the island.

True Love.

2, 12th grade poems as promised (curious?)

(but more soon on our continued anniversary retrospective- including an interview with yours truly and penelope.) Also look forward to a rockin' blog on my foray into hardcore punk with DI and the Misfits- at the KEYCLUB no less. Yah, man. Yah.

1/31/94
WAITING

Waiting ... Waiting .. . Waiting ...
Looking for something special.
Dreams high-up in a castle,
Falling to the ground in a plot of dirt.
Can't even find my beings worth.
Waiting ... Can't find ... Waiting ... Can't find ...
The answer to my prayers.
My soul, the searching tears.
All is death- hopeless and grim.
Everything I know. All is dim.
Waiting ... The light is fading ... Waiting ... The light is fading ...
Giving up everything.
Hope, all, is anything.
Stuff in my life I wanted to know.
Finding nothing. Hitting low.
Can't even realize.
Nothing in life to really idealize.
Love, nothing but poison.
Problems multiplied by a dozen.
Waiting ... Leaving ... All is dark.
God, I've finally hit the mark.
Wasting away ... Dying ... Wasting away... Dying ...
And still can't find ... still can't find, can't find the answer ...
No understanding... Crash landing.
no hope. death.
Crash landing... No understanding...

7/30/94

It is not love that reigns,
but burning desire I would feign.
Because I look and would not his mind to dine,
but his lips to devour that of mine.
No tis not desire that is that shallow.
Attraction of mind is not all that hallow...
But to talk and listen and feast on his words-
Would easily let me imagine his kisses mine.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY

Did anyone notice that we've been alive a whole YEAR! That's epic is it not?

Top 12 Blog-lights for Mendacious: Check 'em out.

OCTOBER: HighSchool Reunion (check out blog of the 31st)
NOVEMBER: Trip to NewYork (all time rockin blog entry entitled "Monday" on the 15th)
DECEMBER: Temp Job(Entitled "Okay, so" on the 12th, and a pleasant story "Tagged Traveler on the 19th.)
JANUARY: Blood (fairly uninspiring month, but DO check out my blog of the 16th. "Donate Blood, it's good for you.")
FEBRUARY: A Bleak Month (but do check out "Even Fictional Rafts Get Destroyed Sometimes" on the 23rd.)
***MARCH: Fantastic Blog Month (This is where you learn my dreams of Mensa membership, more than you ever wanted to know about bats, killer snails and spinach! oh and of course JOBLESSNESS! Read this ENTIRE MONTH. You will not regret it.)
APRIL: Officially depressed month. Read at your own risk.
MAY: Some fascinating info on Snails as well as awesome Pics about GIANT AFRICAN SNAILS, thought about breaking up with blog. Read with caution.
JUNE: "Pain on the left Side." Blog entry on the 29th. Also learn about Grunion and why they run, black widow spiders, giant stone teddy bears.
JULY: Pretty Good month- Read 2 stories inspired by readers suggestions, and other wonderful flora and fauna info- Read this month if you feel like killing some time. There's good stuff here. and by the end of it I'm actually employed again!
AUGUST: Curious month (revisit my addiction to computer games, my terror of applying to Central Casting, the growth of pumpkins, and a great blog on Diet Green Tea.)
SEPTEMBER: Check out my blog on the 11th "So you think you see a theme" Other highlights are conservation, the Gym, and various other mental turnings.
OCTOBER: Thru the FOG.

I love the blog. I have fallen in love with the blog and I don't ever want to let it go. Thanks for reading you guys.

in it's present state

Power Struggle, Continued

Okay, so I emailed that letter last week to Evil Power Company Customer Service, and they say you're supposed to get a response in 24 hours--I didn't. But that's okay. I vented. And also, I felt really (okay, only sort of) bad the next day when it started pouring again, and I was all in a conniption because it was Survivor night, and I thought for sure our power would be out when I got home from work. So I called the automated system to check the "status" of the outage request for our neighborhood, just to see if it existed. And it did. And I was like, boiling over. This is Survivor, people. CBS does not show repeats. And I had already had to go to a sports bar once a few weeks ago and finnagle the manager into showing it on the big screen, sound and everything, when I'm sure people wanted to watch something else, like, um--sports. And I wasn't going to do that again.

But, oops, instead of checking on the status of an existing neighborhod outage request, it turns out that I created it. Teehee. And S, who had already been warned of the situation and told to call the power company immediately when he got home if the power was still out, had to cover for me. The trucks pulled up and they guys were all like, "Uh, did you report an outage?" And S was like, "Um, my wife was home earlier? [I wasn't, really.] And she may have called? The power may have been out then?"

So the power hadn't really gone out, at all. And the previous evening they had repaired two of the main breakers in our neighborhood to help prevent future outages. Also, it turns out that the reason this new neighborhood's power goes out so much is because there are so many tree branches near the lines, and rainwater simply weighs them all down, affecting power. So... there is actually a somewhat legitimate explanation, one that almost appeases the Angry Pregnant Lady.

I thought I was off the hook after that little incident, and maybe they just let my email go, which would have been fine, really. I was over it, for now. But apparently the response of Customer Service to an email like that is to have someone come out and check the voltage from your house, and call you, and if you're not there, leave a little door hangy thing that says they tried to check out the problem, but didn't find anything and couldn't reach anyone, but if we have continued issues, please give them a call. And our voltage was fine. Oops.

And S also mentioned that he noticed they were cutting down some tree branches around the lines in our neighborhood... I'd like to think I had a little something to do with that. Mmm hmmm. That's right.

Really, I think this all needs to be logged in the baby book as one of the irrational things Mommy did before he or she was born.

AND

yah, fog pics still in holding. damn creativity having to take so frickin long. Today i'm having some rampant unexplained anxiety. i'm perpetually nervous about something. it could be my lack of a pay check, but i don't think that totally explains it. i feel like i've missed something, or have forgotten something on my many lists. don't know what it could be exactly. maybe exercise. maybe a lot of things- it's at these times that the idea of a spiritual quest becomes appealing. where's my peyote. dust off the drums. and give me some visions outside myself. let me feel limitless. i don't want to be in the valleys any longer. i think i see a spider.

having no peyote i will take a shower, re-pot a couple plants and go to work, read, see a movie? maybe... and um, something something. none of which involve the high-places.

Paper Projects


step 2 and 3

Adopt

I thought about waiting to post until the fog photos were done but eh, why... Today we shot a bunch of kids in need of adoption over by the RoseBowl. Things I had to get: 2 way mirror, c-stand. Did we use either? NO. The 2way mirror was not a big deal except that I ended up chipping it- yah, I didn't load the frame right so when i went to rest it, it fell out of the frame, and chipped- 1" from the padded bottom. I don't get it. I felt really bad and everyone I said that to, was well- that's what we have insurance for. Bah. The c-stand I had to meet someone at the Ritz-Carlton Pasadena for. Let me tell you, that place- wow. I wish rich people dressed with the class that met the scenery- it's a wedding planners dream location. Divine. Nevertheless I was meeting up with transport that was shooting another promo there and I didn't know they had a seperate entrance, so I valeted my car, and trapesed through 2 cityblocks to finally find them- only to have to trapese back out holding a c-stand with visions of me gouging panels and knocking over crystal vases. Then the valet says, that'll be 12 dollars. Riiiight.

Then it was the shoot- and all these cute kids cracked my cynical heart- sure I sometimes wish I didn't have a family because most of my childhood I loathed them anyway but then i kept wondering how that would really play out in my life- what would the photos of my life look like- there is something to be said for a constant...

We capped it off at a bakery and I had the freshest, bestest scone and a chai tea... then to Senor Fish in Eagle Rock. The DP had it right, if we could have an hour shoot all the time and then hang out the rest of the day this industry would be perfect.

Peace.

Letter to Evil Power Company

(I lied about dinner--since I used the MAGICAL CROCKPOT! it wasn't really ruined. But I thought that would have a greater impact than whining about missing Lost, which was the real issue at hand.)

I recently moved within the city of W, and at my old address rarely, if ever, had any issues with power outages. Now in my new neighborhood, King's Grant, the power seems to go out whenever the wind blows the wrong way. While I can understand why the power went out during Hurricane Ophelia, I cannot understand why it went out for so early and for so long (7 am Wednesday through 6 pm Thursday). I had to replace an entire refrigerator and freezer full of food. Last night, Oct 5, it was raining and mildly windy--no lightning, and for some reason I just knew the power would go out. I find it ridiculous that this new neighborhood is so extremely sensitive to fluctuations in weather. The repair took 3 hours, and dinner was ruined. This situation is aggravating to face for both my husband and myself after a long day at work, and I'm sure the rest of the neighborhood feels the same way. With impending thunderstorms forecasted over the next several days, I have little confidence that our power will remain unaffected. With $150 to $200 bills at this new address, I expect the service to be reliable and strong. Obviously as a major utility, your company has a veritable monopoly on service within the area; however, if there was a choice, know that I would change service in a heartbeat. The situation is absurd, and it is more than frustrating to speak with others who subscribe to the same service and have few or no issues with their power during the same set of circumstances. Thank you for your time.

P.S. If anyone out there happened to have taped Lost, this is my desperate plea. Send Penelope a copy!

I swear the crackpot is genius

Really the biggest thing going on right now, besides the fact that I am working steadily to de-packrat myself of years and years worth of junk, before my husband calls that evil TLC show, Clean Sweep, and has my habit exposed on national TV, is that I am lately addicted to the slow-cooker.

The slow-cooker, the crockpot, whatever you want to call it. I'm not even sure anyone but people in the South use them. I never did, growing up in the North. I heard of them, these crockpots, but they just sounded weird to me. Like the culinary equivalent of country music. I am now, however, convinced that it may be the world's greatest invention, ever. Because you can cook so many different things in there, and you can leave your house all day with it going and not worry about your house burning down. Because when you get home, the air smells like heaven, and all you have to do is heat up a few sides, and voila. Insta-yummy-meal. And it's not like all stews and chicken and dumplings and whatever. Although, have I mentioned how much I lately LOVE chicken and dumplings. Another obsession, another aside.

I need a slow-cooker cookbook, so I can branch out. But so far this week there has been roast with a gravy that magically formed from water and one packet each of Italian and ranch dressings. And today there will be a whole chicken, with salt and pepper and rosemary and olive oil... Tomorrow maybe Banquet's chicken and potatoes, purchased for $4.99 in the frozen food section. What else can I say about this sheer brilliance?

Whoa.

It's like, all eerie and stuff.
Makes me want to eat chocolate candy and decorate my house with fake spiders. Even though the blog really has nothing to do with Halloween. Maybe I just like chocolate candy.

Ordeals.

Okay, that was one. Just changing the look. It doesn't help that my neck is just feeling better enough to feel consistently sore- if that makes sense, it's more ambiant pain. IN need of more advil. I think I got cocky. I moved left to right too much. Damn my hubris. I'm sorry I had to waste such a word on neck pain. Fuckin' Hubris! It reminds me of using the word Acumen, just yesterday- although then it was completely warranted, and in context, and having nothing at all to do with accounting or musicals.

Random Events:

+While describing an event at the directors house I mind-panicked: It went something like, Oh my god, this better be going somewhere. Is this going somewhere? Oh my god. What am I doing with my life- at the time it involved the chihuahua and its 7th birthday. IF I had a more surreal life it might've also included a small party hat and streamers. But sadly, no.

+While innocently nibbling on an highly addictive biscotti the director said, don't tell anyone I said that. I laughed. He said, I think we should get around to uh, a, confidentiality clause- agreement. I laughed. I said, wouldn't that mean I don't get to blog about you...? I mind panicked: It went something like, Oh my god, this better be going somewhere. Is this going somewhere? Oh. My. God. What am I doing with my life- at the time it involved the director and a tasty biscotti. IF I had a less surreal life it wouldn't have involved a motion senser triggered in the directors house, me checking it out, only to hop the fence and run into the cops. I'm his assistant I said. They blinked. Should I call him?

+The naked lady was in the 24fitness locker room. At the beginning of my workout she was leaning against a counter clipping coupons. I'm not joking. By the end of my workout she was butt-naked, facing the mirror and talking on the phone, leaning on the same counter, in the same position. I thought: Did I miss something?

+Besides that the Fog has asserted itself more thick and powerful than ever. I feel completely disconnected to the world around me. Not that I want to be connected to the cheeky coupon lady, but maybe something besides the crick in my neck or the inevitable question of lonliness.

Upandcoming: A photo series on the fog.

Through the Fog

Good morning. Let me emerge from my insular world and say, thanks for commenting on my blog! You, dear awesome readership- fellow blogcon·nois·seurs that you are. Some good questions: I like questions, it's like being in a seminar class at school, and those were always good times, sure there was that one annoying kid that you tried to shut up or drown out everytime they spoke, but that gave you a chance to work on your snarky asides, erupting one half the classroom in laughter, and the rest, sadly- left out. Yes i am the puppet master, or that funny girl in the corner who probably should be paying more attention. That's a B- for participation. IN my mind the most painful grade I ever got was a B- in Women Studies no less. Yes, I do feel like a tool. Thanks for asking. I shake my head in disbelief everytime I think about it. Like, what didn't I get about "social" theory and women (yikes)... and yet, that class I never quite got. Tested my intelligence and made me rethink my dreams of following Geena Davis into Mensa and the 2004 Olympic Archery Team.

Okay so to the questions:
Letting it go: hahahaha. So NOT easy. We're talking years of possessiveness here and a handful of sundered relationships. It's a pro/con thing here- with me and friendships. I push people with truth and sometimes confront when I should just let it stew. My theory though has always been, if we can't get through this then what kind of friend are they, then it's easier for me to let them go. However, conversely my destructive attitude gets me into trouble bcs of that whole "test of time" nonsense. Why would you send a half- built ship into the ocean. It has to be sea ready first. So there is something to be said for approaching things with time and caution. Bah, that's what I said.

I think after a particularly painful friend breach (she was like a little sister),where in my mind, I actually used the phrase, so be it, you're dead to me... one is reminded that one should not send out emails in a rage, but secondly, I realized how much of an anchor they'd been for me and how much pressure I was putting on them. We're all needy at times, especially when we're not in a place like home. (I was in Chicago and slightly manic.) It dawned on me that, in a universal sense, friends can not be my anchor. In a faith sense, only God should be. No one can bear the weight and responsibility for one person, not even in a marriage. In one sense I became cynical but in another, more philosophical- in that, with each friendship I think, it would be awesome if it lasted forever, but for whatever reason, right now, they're in my life and for however long it blooms I need to learn from it, get what I can from it and have a good time. That's where the letting go part comes in. Easy and painful. Most people have enough trouble with the concept of marriage- bcs love in it's total sense is not so fuzzy and warm. It's fierce and hard, not unlike a battlefield eh? (mmm. Pat Benatar). I mean that it takes actual effort and communication- and who the hell wants to do that when you could be watching the Law/Order CI marathon? Just take it for granted. So part of me understands that people are not where I am when it comes to relationships. I can take Everest and they can only take the flight up to their 2nd story walk-up. It's grace too, and compassion for people who are weaker than you. (Don't get me wrong, no wait, I meant it- I'm being elitist, hahaha do what you will!). So you can look at yourself as a guide, a trainer, a tester, a climber, walker, jogger, treadmillin' whateva... but if someone is trying to pull you off the mountain you might just have to drop your hand.
--------------
Oh also, I had a dream about the BFF necklaces, and because yesterday, I was watching the Law/Order Criminal Intent marathon. It turned into discovering a skeleton of a kid in a grave and this BFF necklace- and uncovering the mystery before it was too late. Also i looked up the def of Voyeur and broadly I'm more of a investigative journalist who sometimes gets threatening letters or death threats from mobsters or terrorists- because when and if i do find out the really tabloid stuff about people, it just adds layers like a tasty 7-layer dip- oh that's how they, oh i get it, no wonder they... tonight on channel 7.

On aside note for danny b ---> did you hear about this, the guy danny martin, with no legs and still plays ball. the rest of us are fuckin' pansies... that includes you Johann.
http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/multimedia/photo_gallery/2005/09/27/

next week: chiropractic journeys, the naked lady in 24fitness and the odd assets of house sitting.