The "Convincing John" blog has been erased due to lack of interest.
What can I say, that puppet was a tyrant.
So, go ahead and nix the link--thanks to all who had one, and everyone who did read.
xoxo,
penelope
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Friday, April 28, 2006
Suggestion Box
Yesterday while out shopping at World Market, my friend Erin convinced me that purchasing a bottle of Voss Water would be a fantastic idea. It's $1.99 and comes in a heavy glass bottle. It's artesian water from Norway. Wouldn't it be worth it, just to try it once? I hedged and backed away from the display. "I can't justify it," I said. Erin said, "But I can." And she bought two. Love Erin, my former Verizon Wireless coworker and fellow Pisces fish.
So my question for suggestions is, what to do with the bottle? Because it is ever-so-fabulous and must be saved, displayed, and somehow artistically employed. (And need I say, don't be dirty or rude.)
P.S. The water was tasty--might have been better if cold? But henceforth I'm sticking with the good ole water that comes right out of our refrigerator door. $1.99!
So my question for suggestions is, what to do with the bottle? Because it is ever-so-fabulous and must be saved, displayed, and somehow artistically employed. (And need I say, don't be dirty or rude.)P.S. The water was tasty--might have been better if cold? But henceforth I'm sticking with the good ole water that comes right out of our refrigerator door. $1.99!
Thursday, April 27, 2006
She Wore Red
The sign on the door said, "Welcome to Fabulous Sin City". I thought, oh, dear God, what am I doing here?
But anything that gives you license to wear rhinstones, I say, why not? It was a black and white semi-formal event. Pre-Chicago-MFA days I was always running around town going to galas and clubs and Parties, events where I could meticulously craft an outfit, but since then my connections have tempered or dulled- into a toxic combination of hermitage and I'm only almost 30. So having nary a job or funds, more critically, to do anything about anything, let alone celebrate my birthday in style, I have to live vicariously. The outfit ensamblage (a top)for this event alone maxed a credit card and that's without a manicure and new shoes. DamnIT. Social events are taxing.
Things like this are always tricky too- it's that terrifying "unknown" on oneside and conjecture on the other- of: I don't know anyone and what the hell am I in for really? Her people are not my people, but still, there's that nagging that I should be adventurous and celebrate somebody's birthday in style, so why not hers. And then the next question is why black/white? If I were dabbling in the upper classes I would think there might be a legitimate reason, but lingering as most of us are in the abyss of the middle class, it had to be something else.
I was met at the door by the lady herself, gregarious, and wearing red- and practically nothing else- if you take my meaning. Sin City, indeed.
She says, I didn't think you'd come. I knew she (Lucy Liu) would come, but I didn't think you would come. I'm so glad you came.
To preface my trip down the rabbit hole, SWR and I have known each other since- practically kindergarten. I know her mom, as many run-ins at Costco will attest, and we went to school k-12. Alas, she was always, and I stress always popular- From even 4th grade I remember a vague interest in who she was dating, what was going on, like a prime reality tv experience. Into HighSchool and her cheerleading self, it didn't change. I had the oblivious ability to be personable to all social strata and so when I met her again at the 10year reunion- she let out a belting MENDACIOUS!- and I smiled with a familiarity that one has with long lost friends, drinking buddies, and distant cousins. I had dinner with her sometime after and she's made an attempt since to include me- that I can't snub. The quote that tipifies her relation to me was, "in high school i didn't understand you," which leads me to believe that perhaps she gets me now.
SO when the invitation came in the MAIL and the evite arrived later how could I possibly refuse- not only for the social excavation, but because we all need to party and meet new people. I dressed in black, put on some jewels (which were raved about by the way!) and arrived fashionably late. The only major hesitation was that some other people from high school were going to be there and then there's that reunion type awkward tension of running into people you have nothing to say to:
Run in #1: (Brunette, 5'5. Blue eyeshadow, straight brown hair.) She saw me as I came in and fled outside. (The girl at the reunion who puked all over the floor.) I can't decide if she really has a distaste for me or she's shy... SWR's mom pointed out that she was there- mom has no idea that the social circle of SWR did not on any regular basis include me. But to Brunette's credit she came up and gave me a polite hug and ran away again- later on my 3rd drink i told her she had a nice skirt, she said, oh thanks- fled, and i kept mixing my rum and coke.
Run in #2: This girl was always a bit quirky- but I loved her at video parties I threw and all nighters. Post highschool i dropped the ball on correspondance, at least i'm pretty sure- then she blew me off at the reunion, which you know puzzled me- cuz who blows me off? And I called her on it by saying, oh and I thought you were avoiding me all night. Escape. Escape. Escape. Think Lane (her family specifically) on GG meets just a wee dash of Kirk with oddly the now beauty and possible social grace of Lucy Liu. She explained her life in 10yrs like she shouldve at the reunion- and then -- explained her departure from Christianity to Metaphysics back to Christianity and now back to Metaphysics. Did I know my Rising Sign, Moon- What house is everything in? Hmm. I don't know. She literally turned and walked away from me like I hit the "turn the channel" button. I don't know if it was because I didn't know the house or the absurd turn the conversation had taken. Later I find out that she's been engaged twice and have been firmly told that I was probably never suspended in HighSchool bcs all the teachers loved me. You were the teachers favorite. Hmm curious. I'm still pondering this one. Current Drink: Sangria
Run in #3: BFF of SWR(Newport Beach, Realty, Blonde with 3tone high/low lights. A sparkling band of diamonds. Skin tight gold/black dress) Housewives of the REAL O.C. When introduced I realized she was the same fresh faced cheerleader Mom had pointed out to me in an old photograph upon entering. While gorgeous and perhaps closest to my upclass Barbie, she was wry and contemplative, and I would never have recognized her. She tells me that she's been married for 2 years and is headed for divorce. Was she serious? Yes. Did he have enough drive? No. Had they grown apart and become two different people? Yes. There were so many things to inject into such a topic but I felt remiss to do it at a party. It's like back at Halloween when a friend of a friend tells me her brother committed suicide and the ugly relatives on the otherside say he's going to hell. There are people like that, i'm not like that- but what is one to say? Maybe I'm just a recepticle for these sorts of indulgances but still, I'm only an hour into the party at this point. Current Drink: 2nd helping of Sangria
Run in #4: Was sometime later- the brother. Very cute. Very personable. Not nearly as wild as his sister SWR. We reminisce politely about k-12 together- keeping to topics like recess and school scandals, like teacher affairs, cocaine addictions, and of course my favorite- when our favorite polisci teacher slept with his student a year after getting "The Teacher of the Year" plaque. As Brother states, I chipped in 5 bucks for that! but Lucy Liu joins us and suddenly the conversation is about his relationship and commitment phobias and how much money he makes as a mortgage broker- meanwhile i'm suggesting early retirement and downsizing his 80 hour work week- I don't care if he owns 3 houses. Current Drink: Cranberry/Vodka
Respectively, my married date Brian leans into me with his arm around my waist and says, what's your story- After I tell him in very general terms- he kisses me on the cheek and says, you'll find somebody. It'll happen just like that. (He's lovesick which explains his optimism, his 5th anniversary and the alcohol). After he hand feeds me some chocolate covered strawberries, we head up to play pool and in my head I think Brother never gets to play pool on this spankin new table he owns with the two corner tv mounts, bcs he works too much. Now the back story on my date is that we arrived about a minute from one another- as he says, "I saw you in your car I think, as I drove up in my Explorer- and you were doing whatever." Whatever- was trying to take a picture of myself with my cameraphone- and i kept turning off the dome light bcs i didn't want to appear strange and vain. That didn't work. He says, "I can tell your a good person." "Thanks I say. So SWR sees us together and says, You came together. Yes. Yes we did. "Mendacious, this is the man who got me fired!" "What," I say?! "Don't tell people that," Brian pleads. I shake my head and look disappointed. Later when we're playing blackjack another attached boy named Royce gives me a few extra black chips and Brian brings me a Rum/Coke- explaining, don't worry there's no GHB in it. And I say, thanks. I'm grateful. And mental note: I didn't even think about it.
So around 2 I've heard everything about everything. We've sung SWR happy birthday. Somebody's peed on the floor of the bathroom. The red/black balloons are sinking to the floor and about half are dancing around the tables. The Dj is playing 99 Luftballoons and I think how appropriate. I loose my last game of pool. I say goodbye and get a kiss from Brian. I tell Brother goodbye. Trying not to fall in the pool. I switch to water and tell Mom we should get together. SWR and BFF sing out my name and wave as they disappear down the hall- and as I tread carefully down the stairs, taking the last bits of bruschetta and shrimp (for protein) with me, the fog from the machine envelops me as I make a quick dash to the door- down the nicely paved sidewalks and houses that are much too uniform and into my car- with a particularly wry smile~ but by God it was worth it.
But anything that gives you license to wear rhinstones, I say, why not? It was a black and white semi-formal event. Pre-Chicago-MFA days I was always running around town going to galas and clubs and Parties, events where I could meticulously craft an outfit, but since then my connections have tempered or dulled- into a toxic combination of hermitage and I'm only almost 30. So having nary a job or funds, more critically, to do anything about anything, let alone celebrate my birthday in style, I have to live vicariously. The outfit ensamblage (a top)for this event alone maxed a credit card and that's without a manicure and new shoes. DamnIT. Social events are taxing.
Things like this are always tricky too- it's that terrifying "unknown" on oneside and conjecture on the other- of: I don't know anyone and what the hell am I in for really? Her people are not my people, but still, there's that nagging that I should be adventurous and celebrate somebody's birthday in style, so why not hers. And then the next question is why black/white? If I were dabbling in the upper classes I would think there might be a legitimate reason, but lingering as most of us are in the abyss of the middle class, it had to be something else.
I was met at the door by the lady herself, gregarious, and wearing red- and practically nothing else- if you take my meaning. Sin City, indeed.
She says, I didn't think you'd come. I knew she (Lucy Liu) would come, but I didn't think you would come. I'm so glad you came.
To preface my trip down the rabbit hole, SWR and I have known each other since- practically kindergarten. I know her mom, as many run-ins at Costco will attest, and we went to school k-12. Alas, she was always, and I stress always popular- From even 4th grade I remember a vague interest in who she was dating, what was going on, like a prime reality tv experience. Into HighSchool and her cheerleading self, it didn't change. I had the oblivious ability to be personable to all social strata and so when I met her again at the 10year reunion- she let out a belting MENDACIOUS!- and I smiled with a familiarity that one has with long lost friends, drinking buddies, and distant cousins. I had dinner with her sometime after and she's made an attempt since to include me- that I can't snub. The quote that tipifies her relation to me was, "in high school i didn't understand you," which leads me to believe that perhaps she gets me now.
SO when the invitation came in the MAIL and the evite arrived later how could I possibly refuse- not only for the social excavation, but because we all need to party and meet new people. I dressed in black, put on some jewels (which were raved about by the way!) and arrived fashionably late. The only major hesitation was that some other people from high school were going to be there and then there's that reunion type awkward tension of running into people you have nothing to say to:
Run in #1: (Brunette, 5'5. Blue eyeshadow, straight brown hair.) She saw me as I came in and fled outside. (The girl at the reunion who puked all over the floor.) I can't decide if she really has a distaste for me or she's shy... SWR's mom pointed out that she was there- mom has no idea that the social circle of SWR did not on any regular basis include me. But to Brunette's credit she came up and gave me a polite hug and ran away again- later on my 3rd drink i told her she had a nice skirt, she said, oh thanks- fled, and i kept mixing my rum and coke.
Run in #2: This girl was always a bit quirky- but I loved her at video parties I threw and all nighters. Post highschool i dropped the ball on correspondance, at least i'm pretty sure- then she blew me off at the reunion, which you know puzzled me- cuz who blows me off? And I called her on it by saying, oh and I thought you were avoiding me all night. Escape. Escape. Escape. Think Lane (her family specifically) on GG meets just a wee dash of Kirk with oddly the now beauty and possible social grace of Lucy Liu. She explained her life in 10yrs like she shouldve at the reunion- and then -- explained her departure from Christianity to Metaphysics back to Christianity and now back to Metaphysics. Did I know my Rising Sign, Moon- What house is everything in? Hmm. I don't know. She literally turned and walked away from me like I hit the "turn the channel" button. I don't know if it was because I didn't know the house or the absurd turn the conversation had taken. Later I find out that she's been engaged twice and have been firmly told that I was probably never suspended in HighSchool bcs all the teachers loved me. You were the teachers favorite. Hmm curious. I'm still pondering this one. Current Drink: Sangria
Run in #3: BFF of SWR(Newport Beach, Realty, Blonde with 3tone high/low lights. A sparkling band of diamonds. Skin tight gold/black dress) Housewives of the REAL O.C. When introduced I realized she was the same fresh faced cheerleader Mom had pointed out to me in an old photograph upon entering. While gorgeous and perhaps closest to my upclass Barbie, she was wry and contemplative, and I would never have recognized her. She tells me that she's been married for 2 years and is headed for divorce. Was she serious? Yes. Did he have enough drive? No. Had they grown apart and become two different people? Yes. There were so many things to inject into such a topic but I felt remiss to do it at a party. It's like back at Halloween when a friend of a friend tells me her brother committed suicide and the ugly relatives on the otherside say he's going to hell. There are people like that, i'm not like that- but what is one to say? Maybe I'm just a recepticle for these sorts of indulgances but still, I'm only an hour into the party at this point. Current Drink: 2nd helping of Sangria
Run in #4: Was sometime later- the brother. Very cute. Very personable. Not nearly as wild as his sister SWR. We reminisce politely about k-12 together- keeping to topics like recess and school scandals, like teacher affairs, cocaine addictions, and of course my favorite- when our favorite polisci teacher slept with his student a year after getting "The Teacher of the Year" plaque. As Brother states, I chipped in 5 bucks for that! but Lucy Liu joins us and suddenly the conversation is about his relationship and commitment phobias and how much money he makes as a mortgage broker- meanwhile i'm suggesting early retirement and downsizing his 80 hour work week- I don't care if he owns 3 houses. Current Drink: Cranberry/Vodka
Respectively, my married date Brian leans into me with his arm around my waist and says, what's your story- After I tell him in very general terms- he kisses me on the cheek and says, you'll find somebody. It'll happen just like that. (He's lovesick which explains his optimism, his 5th anniversary and the alcohol). After he hand feeds me some chocolate covered strawberries, we head up to play pool and in my head I think Brother never gets to play pool on this spankin new table he owns with the two corner tv mounts, bcs he works too much. Now the back story on my date is that we arrived about a minute from one another- as he says, "I saw you in your car I think, as I drove up in my Explorer- and you were doing whatever." Whatever- was trying to take a picture of myself with my cameraphone- and i kept turning off the dome light bcs i didn't want to appear strange and vain. That didn't work. He says, "I can tell your a good person." "Thanks I say. So SWR sees us together and says, You came together. Yes. Yes we did. "Mendacious, this is the man who got me fired!" "What," I say?! "Don't tell people that," Brian pleads. I shake my head and look disappointed. Later when we're playing blackjack another attached boy named Royce gives me a few extra black chips and Brian brings me a Rum/Coke- explaining, don't worry there's no GHB in it. And I say, thanks. I'm grateful. And mental note: I didn't even think about it.
So around 2 I've heard everything about everything. We've sung SWR happy birthday. Somebody's peed on the floor of the bathroom. The red/black balloons are sinking to the floor and about half are dancing around the tables. The Dj is playing 99 Luftballoons and I think how appropriate. I loose my last game of pool. I say goodbye and get a kiss from Brian. I tell Brother goodbye. Trying not to fall in the pool. I switch to water and tell Mom we should get together. SWR and BFF sing out my name and wave as they disappear down the hall- and as I tread carefully down the stairs, taking the last bits of bruschetta and shrimp (for protein) with me, the fog from the machine envelops me as I make a quick dash to the door- down the nicely paved sidewalks and houses that are much too uniform and into my car- with a particularly wry smile~ but by God it was worth it.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Great.
Dear Sarah Hepola,
I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart down to my tippy toes for your recent Slate article about why you took down your blog. And in fact, I wanted to ask, can we be friends? It turns out, I really need more discipline in my life, and I think you're just the girl to help me. For instance, I blog way too much, not about things like "American Idol and my kitty cat," like you did, because well, for one, I just can't get into this latest season of 'AI,' in spite of my adoration of Simon Cowell, and two, I'm allergic to cats and therefore can't have one. I do tune into 'AI' every now and then just to see what bleary statement falls out of Paula's mouth next, for entertainment value, but I'm more prone to blog about everything else I watch (please refer to the following blog for an almost-complete list), and my two dogs. It's shameful, really, and I'm embarassed of my bad habit. And here I've been trying to pretend that blogging is Actual Writing. That blogging and commenting is actually a productive use of time, kind of like a daily regimen of mental calisthenics, not to mention an enjoyable cyber/social experience, rather than a behavior nastier than chewing off your own toenails instead of using a clipper.
But I think with your help, Sarah Hepola, you can get me back on the straight and narrow. Maybe even *gasp* get me to watch a little less TV--with the end result that I finally start writing The Great American Novel. So when I'm at the next high-falutin' gathering of publishers and writers, and they are in the midst of showering me with Ivy-laden compliments, I'll have a hearty "YES" to whip out of my back pocket, rather than a meek "no" to their next, inevitable question: "But do you have a book?"
Because I don't, Sarah Hepola, and I'm embarassed. Every writer needs a book, and let's be honest, my MFA thesis was cute and all, but no one's ever going to publish it. I need to get cracking, and clearly it's the blog that's sucking up all my precious time and talent, preventing me from The Only Goal a Writer Should Ever Have (a book deal), and not the fact that it isn't the right time for a book just yet. I used to think that writing a book required things like Inspiration and Drive, but now I know that all it really requires is the elimination of Useless Time-Suckers, such as blogs. Thank you for your insight; I'll credit you always. Maybe we'll do lunch?
XOXOXO
Your New Pal,
Penelope
P.S. My favorite line from your article, which I plan to print out, post on my mirror and refer to while brushing my teeth:
"At times, I started to feel that jokes and scenarios and turns of phrase were my capital, and that my capital was limited, and each blog entry was scattering more of it to the wind, pissing away precious dollars and cents in the form of punch lines I could never use again, not without feeling like a hack. You know: 'How sad. She stole that line from her own blog.'"
I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart down to my tippy toes for your recent Slate article about why you took down your blog. And in fact, I wanted to ask, can we be friends? It turns out, I really need more discipline in my life, and I think you're just the girl to help me. For instance, I blog way too much, not about things like "American Idol and my kitty cat," like you did, because well, for one, I just can't get into this latest season of 'AI,' in spite of my adoration of Simon Cowell, and two, I'm allergic to cats and therefore can't have one. I do tune into 'AI' every now and then just to see what bleary statement falls out of Paula's mouth next, for entertainment value, but I'm more prone to blog about everything else I watch (please refer to the following blog for an almost-complete list), and my two dogs. It's shameful, really, and I'm embarassed of my bad habit. And here I've been trying to pretend that blogging is Actual Writing. That blogging and commenting is actually a productive use of time, kind of like a daily regimen of mental calisthenics, not to mention an enjoyable cyber/social experience, rather than a behavior nastier than chewing off your own toenails instead of using a clipper.
But I think with your help, Sarah Hepola, you can get me back on the straight and narrow. Maybe even *gasp* get me to watch a little less TV--with the end result that I finally start writing The Great American Novel. So when I'm at the next high-falutin' gathering of publishers and writers, and they are in the midst of showering me with Ivy-laden compliments, I'll have a hearty "YES" to whip out of my back pocket, rather than a meek "no" to their next, inevitable question: "But do you have a book?"
Because I don't, Sarah Hepola, and I'm embarassed. Every writer needs a book, and let's be honest, my MFA thesis was cute and all, but no one's ever going to publish it. I need to get cracking, and clearly it's the blog that's sucking up all my precious time and talent, preventing me from The Only Goal a Writer Should Ever Have (a book deal), and not the fact that it isn't the right time for a book just yet. I used to think that writing a book required things like Inspiration and Drive, but now I know that all it really requires is the elimination of Useless Time-Suckers, such as blogs. Thank you for your insight; I'll credit you always. Maybe we'll do lunch?
XOXOXO
Your New Pal,
Penelope
P.S. My favorite line from your article, which I plan to print out, post on my mirror and refer to while brushing my teeth:
"At times, I started to feel that jokes and scenarios and turns of phrase were my capital, and that my capital was limited, and each blog entry was scattering more of it to the wind, pissing away precious dollars and cents in the form of punch lines I could never use again, not without feeling like a hack. You know: 'How sad. She stole that line from her own blog.'"
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Monday, April 24, 2006
Weekend Recap: Prime Examples
1. Artsy, WTF movie ending: Has anyone seen Broken Flowers with Bill Murray? I'm not saying I didn't like it; I did. I mean, I just can't get enough of movies that feature a reticent Bill Murray sitting around and staring defeatedly into the distance. They touch my soul. But dammit, I can't help feeling like Jim Jarmusch copped out at the end of this one. He didn't have to go the all-tied-up-with-bow-of-sweeping-musical-score Hollywood route, but could he not have at least told us who sent Bill the letter, and if he really did have a son? Honestly.
2. Fear-Mongering at its Finest: Oh, Ann Curry. I do believe you're a sincere individual with good intentions. I know it's not your fault that at the heart of these Dateline Specials is a push for fear-driven consumerism. But what I really didn't need on my lovely Sunday afternoon was to get sucked into a stomach-churning anxiety spiral, imagining the world, the nation, this city, our friends, our family, my husband, myself and MY BABY contracting what is apparently the inevitable strain of pandemic bird flu. So, thanks for that.
3. How to be held up right: Last night (after the bird flu thing), J-Lo and I watched Dog Day Afternoon, this 1975 Al Pacino movie about a guy who holds up a bank in order to fund his lover's sex change operation. Based on a true story and everything, and it was t-riffic. What killed us throughout the movie were these two teller chicks who were having a grand old time during the entire course of the 2-day standoff. Laughing, dancing around. It's like nothing bothered them. I love people like this.
4. Quite Possibly Soulless: What the hell is up Tawny Kitaen's ass, exactly? First of all, Tawny, do you really believe Florence Henderson was trying to make a fool of you on the live TV news broadcast by "throwing you a curve ball?" Because it seemed to me like she just asked you a question you didn't know the answer to, and you're mad because you weren't able to gracefully respond. Second of all, get over it. Your vendetta is unfounded and overblown at this point, and anyone who tries to take down Mrs. Brady isn't going to get a great audience response. Not the best way to win your own talk show, but then, seeing as you're such a hotshot and all with curveballs, it probably wasn't the job for you anyway.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Friday at 7, set your TiVos
I love Cheerleader Nation not just because documentary-type shows about human obssessions are fascinating. And not just because I wasn't a teenager that long ago, and I can relate. And not even because KG won't be a teenager herself that long from now and I can't help but be wary of what I'm in for. Mostly I love Cheerleader Nation because it turned out very different from what I expected. I thought orginally it would be similar to those shows about the Pageant People. The creepy pageant toddlers with their fake teeth, artificially tanned skin, and Glamour Shots-style makeup. And the creepy matching moms who all insist it's the little baby girls who loooove pageants and are obessed with winning, it's not the mothers at all. Mm hmmm. (Although I would still probably loved CN if it had turned out like the Pageant People Shows, just in a more horrified way.)
Cheerleader Nation takes place in Kentucky and chronicles the national champion high school varsity team, Dunbar. They're trying for their third consecutive 1st-place win this year, and the show focuses on their training, their public performances and other team events, with a dose of their home life thrown in as well. Featured are about 8 girls, as well as the coaches; the rest of the team appears, too, but in a more sidelined way.
The South, of course, also has quite the reputation for its obsession with cheerleading; like how many Lifetime movies are there, all based on true stories, about mothers offing their daughters' biggest competition, just so their daughters can make the team. Murdering, for a sport. It's crazy.
Cheerleader Nation, however, is really not. These girls and their coaches and their moms and dads are dead serious about their cheerleading, it's true, and sometimes it does get a little silly. Some of the mothers seem to live vicariously through their daughters, which is a bit much. For the most part, however, the girls themselves seem so...normal. They're not even the bitchy stereotypical cheerleaders--though popular, they're all relatively cute in a relatable way, rather than Barbie-dollish. They don't talk about how they're the coolest kids in school, or all the name-brand "stuff" they have. Yes, they are on the affluent side; they're the kind of kids who get their brand-new car on their 16th birthday. Mostly, though, their problems are so typical: one girl's struggling to keep her grades up, another's got body-image issues, another feels overshadowed by her big sister, and another's drifting from her best friend. They do all have a chip on their shoulders in the way teenagers do, but it somehow makes them even more endearing. I sort of love the girls of Dunbar.
I'm not saying we would have ever hung out, if I were a teenager right now at Dunbar High School. I certainly wouldn't have tried out for the squad, because look out, these girls can do some freaking gymnastics. The routines are tight; it truly is a sport. But ah, Friday nights on Lifetime. It's like the best thing since reruns of Golden Girls.
Friday, April 21, 2006
Now Stretch
Good Morning!
I've had a couple days to adjust to "working" and for the most part all is well. A particular shout out for Sarah who got me the gig, and has been untiring in her efforts to find me a job, any job, that she could get her hands on in the 2 years+ that i've been sporadically unemployed. Now that is consideration and friendship. Thanks Sarah! (and to callie too!)
My day starts like such- it's a new novelty so i have to take you through it.
Up at 7:45, 8am. Ready by 8:15- which means throwing unassembled items into lunch bag, maybe or maybe not brushing teeth, brushing hair, splashing water on face and running out the door. i still always have time to turn on the computer even though i do it all day at work. it pains me not too, but i recognize i have a problem.
Besides I have plenty of time to wake up in the car- usually a 45 minute commute over the hill and through the city to grandmas house we go. Today it took me over an hour bcs a couple jackasses on both freeway systems decided to catch fire, block lanes of traffic- it's particularly cruel for such things to happen on a friday- and of course i hope no one died. And of all the places in LA this was my least favorite place to go bcs there is no convinient freeway system. It's just an abyss of streets and cars- although i do get the chance to try out my maverick shortcuts.
So today i was late- and some guy was covering the phones. He's nice. He feels tortured to be there though- i think it takes a particular type of personality to be able to be chained to a desk you can't leave even with regulated breaks and operate a switchboard to somewhat stressed out movie executives. I've already heard gossip about uptight directors, assistants and crazy people working in other departments. this place is full of eccentrics. so mostly i just sit there with my bag of sunflower seeds and watchfully take notes for later review on just who is who and the office dynamics which run aplenty.
i'm going to miss this place. 3 days a week is just perfect for a girl who hasnt' worked for 4 months. And I'm not chained to the reception desk until i relieve the other guy- it's a perfect set up. I'd take you thru more of the quirky reminesce of the day but i think my bloodsugarlevel is low- so all i can think of is do i want the lean cuisine for lunch or do i want to assembe a tuna sandwich...
I've had a couple days to adjust to "working" and for the most part all is well. A particular shout out for Sarah who got me the gig, and has been untiring in her efforts to find me a job, any job, that she could get her hands on in the 2 years+ that i've been sporadically unemployed. Now that is consideration and friendship. Thanks Sarah! (and to callie too!)
My day starts like such- it's a new novelty so i have to take you through it.
Up at 7:45, 8am. Ready by 8:15- which means throwing unassembled items into lunch bag, maybe or maybe not brushing teeth, brushing hair, splashing water on face and running out the door. i still always have time to turn on the computer even though i do it all day at work. it pains me not too, but i recognize i have a problem.
Besides I have plenty of time to wake up in the car- usually a 45 minute commute over the hill and through the city to grandmas house we go. Today it took me over an hour bcs a couple jackasses on both freeway systems decided to catch fire, block lanes of traffic- it's particularly cruel for such things to happen on a friday- and of course i hope no one died. And of all the places in LA this was my least favorite place to go bcs there is no convinient freeway system. It's just an abyss of streets and cars- although i do get the chance to try out my maverick shortcuts.
So today i was late- and some guy was covering the phones. He's nice. He feels tortured to be there though- i think it takes a particular type of personality to be able to be chained to a desk you can't leave even with regulated breaks and operate a switchboard to somewhat stressed out movie executives. I've already heard gossip about uptight directors, assistants and crazy people working in other departments. this place is full of eccentrics. so mostly i just sit there with my bag of sunflower seeds and watchfully take notes for later review on just who is who and the office dynamics which run aplenty.
i'm going to miss this place. 3 days a week is just perfect for a girl who hasnt' worked for 4 months. And I'm not chained to the reception desk until i relieve the other guy- it's a perfect set up. I'd take you thru more of the quirky reminesce of the day but i think my bloodsugarlevel is low- so all i can think of is do i want the lean cuisine for lunch or do i want to assembe a tuna sandwich...
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Warm-Ups
have temp job. (stop)
will post soon. (stop)
do not be alarmed. (stop)
perfect storm averted. (stop)
scones still available. (stop)
will post soon. (stop)
do not be alarmed. (stop)
perfect storm averted. (stop)
scones still available. (stop)
Dear Henry,
I'm just not sure what to make of you. I mean, you seem okay, for a next-door neighbor. A little grumpy, maybe, but at least you mow your lawn unlike that family down the street, the one with the sinister-looking tree and the somehow creepy assortment of children's toys in their yard. You're downright impeccable with your landscaping, in fact, and even though I know you would totally call the cops on us if we had a party rather than asking us first to quiet down, I can't complain too much. Yes, it took you several months after we moved in to say hi, but we didn't say hi, either--I admit it's a tw0-way street.
I just don't know about you and Bender. I think--I think--you might actually get along with her, or at least you're entertained by her Tasmazian Devil-inspired posturing shows she puts on daily for you at the fence. (As you should be.) When you growl, Get over here, I would swear, though it took me a long while to realize, that you're actually having fun. I stopped calling Bender inside whenever she acts in this freakish manner, because by now, I figure at the very least you're used to her, and frankly it's too annoying to get up 30 seconds after letting her out.
But, I have to ask, what was with the pesticides this morning? You're 85 and although you're crotchety, I don't want to think badly of you. Maybe your aim was off. But were you spraying that junk at my dog, or were you just spraying the bushes, and Bender happened to be there. Please be honest. Because making a dog choke on poison like that on purpose, even if she is a little nuts, is not very nice. In fact, I might be more than a little mad if she happens to get sick.
Your Neighbor, and a Non-Hooligan (I swear),
Penelope
I just don't know about you and Bender. I think--I think--you might actually get along with her, or at least you're entertained by her Tasmazian Devil-inspired posturing shows she puts on daily for you at the fence. (As you should be.) When you growl, Get over here, I would swear, though it took me a long while to realize, that you're actually having fun. I stopped calling Bender inside whenever she acts in this freakish manner, because by now, I figure at the very least you're used to her, and frankly it's too annoying to get up 30 seconds after letting her out.
But, I have to ask, what was with the pesticides this morning? You're 85 and although you're crotchety, I don't want to think badly of you. Maybe your aim was off. But were you spraying that junk at my dog, or were you just spraying the bushes, and Bender happened to be there. Please be honest. Because making a dog choke on poison like that on purpose, even if she is a little nuts, is not very nice. In fact, I might be more than a little mad if she happens to get sick.
Your Neighbor, and a Non-Hooligan (I swear),
Penelope
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