Kissed any one of your facebook friends? Yes
Been arrested? yes
Kissed someone you didn't like? nope
Slept in until 5 PM? yes
Fallen asleep at work/school? yes
Held a snake? yes
Ran a red light? yes
Been suspended from school? no
Totaled your car/motorbike in an accident? no, but I've had a few that were difficult to drive away from.
Been fired from a job? yes, once.
Sang karaoke? yes
Done something you told yourself you wouldn't? yes
Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? no, but it has come out my mouth.
Caught a snowflake on your tongue? yes
Kissed in the rain? yes
Sang in the shower? yes
Sat on a rooftop? yes
Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes? no
Broken a bone? only one--my thumb when I was 5. My mom caught it in the Bronco door.
Shaved your head? yes
Blacked out from drinking? only once. Damn you, Chicken!
Played a prank on someone? I'm not the pranking type.
Felt like killing someone? yes
Made your girlfriend/boyfriend/husband/wife cry? yes
Had Mexican jumping beans for pets? no
Been in a band? yes. Two, actually.
Shot a gun? yes
Donated blood? no.
Eaten alligator meat? yes, it was delish.
Eaten cheesecake? yes, but I don't like it that much.
Still love someone you shouldn't? no
Think about the future? yes
Believe in love? yes
Sleep on a certain side of the bed? yes, but I don't have a hard-on about it.
Talk in your sleep? yes, apparentally
Laughed until you peed your pants? um, no
Spend too much time on facebook? all time on facebook is too much time, and yet...
Play a musical instrument? yes, piano
Lived outside of the country? not lived, but visited.
Been skinny dipping? yes
Gone sky diving? no
3/28/09
3/7/09
Some thoughts on a Saturday morning
I don't know how many people, if any, read this blog. (Robin, hush, I'm not discounting you, sweetie!) As such, I feel the things I say here have some anonymity in that they are a drop in the sea of a very large blogging ocean, and I generally speak my mind while keeping details about my past private. But lately I've been wanting to write down, journal style, some of the things I've been mulling over about my past that are a common theme for me. I don't usually discuss this side of my life, as I'm generally afraid of public perception surrounding this topic, and having been labelled one thing or another the entirety of my young life, I tend to avoid it.
Having a child, however, causes you to look some demons you'd rather keep hidden square in the face. Any leftover trauma you have regarding your parents (and I have legion) gets pulled out and put on the table to be dissected. If you're a basically healthy person, you suck it up and dive in, hoping that you'll come out of the experience with a better understanding of yourself and the people around you. We are all, after all, human. We have weaknesses and faults, missteps and oversights. But the ability to examine these and try to change for the better separates us from our lesser selves. So it is in the spirit of self-examination that I print this for all to see today. Because by declaiming it quasi-publicly, I am hoping to set myself free of the shame it produces in secrecy.
For most of my youth, I was considered a bad kid. My mother and I did not get along to a pathological degree, and in the early 80's she discovered that she could have me locked up in the psych ward of our local hospital. I've found out in recent years that such forced semi-incarceration was en vogue during the Eighties for many parents who had medical insurance money to burn. Horrific as it was, there was somewhat of a trend. Without resorting to the legal (read:juvie) system poorer kids had to go through, you could have your child locked up, medicated, and out of your hair for as long as your insurance company kept footing the bill. I won't go into the details of my incarceration, only that all told, it took up nearly 2 1/2 years of my life, and it was fairly horrible.
I've been suffering with the stigma of (however misdiagnosed) mental illness for years, even though I adamantly believe I do not and have never had any of the illnesses that the doctors who cashed my mothers' checks diagnosed me with. It's telling that once I was out of my mother's home the symptoms of such 'illnesses' vanished, and I was able to live a normal happy life. Certainly at 38, with a child, business, husband, home, and active social life, I bear no hallmarks of being a maladjusted or 'sick' person. (my mother, on the other hand, is the same narcissistic hyperactive nutjob she's always been.)
Still, the stigma lays dormant in the back of my head, and like all mantras repeated to you when you're young, part of you will believe it to be true even when all evidence speaks to the contrary. It is primarily to fight this inner voice that I search the internet for reasoned dissent or calls to reasonably reform the psychiatric community, which I believe needs an overhaul, particularly for minors forced to be the sacrificial lambs of family disharmony.
So this morning I found an article on Norah Vincent's book "Voluntary Madness" and added this comment to the fray, and after some consideration decided to repost it here, because by broaching the subject voluntarily, I can take some of the sting out of its secretive status.
"I was the product of an unhappy broken home, with a mother who I now believe to have Munchausen By Proxy syndrome, a condition where the sufferer gets the attention and sympathy they crave by causing false medical conditions in their children. I was a teenager in the 80's, when forced juvenile psychiatric incarceration was enjoying a malevolent heyday.
I was diagnosed with everything from paranoid schizophrenia to psychosis to borderline personality disorder (which I now find out is pretty much a BS diagnosis to many in the field). Had I come of age in the ADHD fury, I'm sure I would have been slapped with that label as well. I was forcibly medicated for these conditions, none of which I had, or have ever had, with horrible side effects. (vomiting, zombie-like sluggishness, excessive sleep, weight gain, unstable mood swings, thoughts of suicide.) All of these conditions magically vanished when I was finally out of my mother's care. Once I got over the trauma of having spent 2 1/2 years incarcerated against my will and all that had happened to me as a result (including, but not limited to: molestation, assault, witnessing hard drug use and suicide attempts) I was a happy, healthy, highly functioning adult. I now run my own business and am raising a wonderful son.
My point is this: the psychiatric community dropped the ball en masse for me and many of my peers confined to these places. For every person actually struggling with a disease or condition, there were at least 10 others who were simply dropped off so that lazy, cruel, or clueless parents wouldn't have to do their jobs. That these hospitals were doing the job for them at an enormous profit sends a red flag up for me. It's seemingly very easy, in a family therapy situation, to side with the one holding the purse strings. Since every therapist not paid (directly or indirectly) by my mother said there was nothing wrong with me, I find it curious that the ones who did always had my mother's check in their hand. Whether deliberate or subconscious, the conflict of interest renders the diagnosis in such cases highly suspect, to say the least.
I am not a Scientologist, and I don't believe we should do away with the industry, which can do good when kept in check. But there is rampant abuse of the system, and it needs an overhaul. There is no such thing as a 'bad' or 'sick' individual in a healty family unit. The family dynamic should always be considered as a whole, because save for an organic or obvious physical defect, it is the entire family who is responsible for the behaviour of its members. No kid who acts out does so in a happy, healthy, functioning family, and if even a mismedicated teenage kid understands this, it boggles my mind why a slew of supposedly educated psychiatric professionals could have missed it.
Medication should be treated with caution, particularly in young people whose bodies are still maturing and developing. Great harm can be done by mismedicating."
I could spew volumes of text on this, but let me just say that the things I experienced have left in me a healthy dose of disrespect for the psychiatric community, especially where it relates to medication or incarceration of minors. Any teacher recommending Ritalin for my child better do so wearing a HazMat suit, because I'm holding the ball of my son's care, and I don't have the butterfingers my parents had.
Having a child, however, causes you to look some demons you'd rather keep hidden square in the face. Any leftover trauma you have regarding your parents (and I have legion) gets pulled out and put on the table to be dissected. If you're a basically healthy person, you suck it up and dive in, hoping that you'll come out of the experience with a better understanding of yourself and the people around you. We are all, after all, human. We have weaknesses and faults, missteps and oversights. But the ability to examine these and try to change for the better separates us from our lesser selves. So it is in the spirit of self-examination that I print this for all to see today. Because by declaiming it quasi-publicly, I am hoping to set myself free of the shame it produces in secrecy.
For most of my youth, I was considered a bad kid. My mother and I did not get along to a pathological degree, and in the early 80's she discovered that she could have me locked up in the psych ward of our local hospital. I've found out in recent years that such forced semi-incarceration was en vogue during the Eighties for many parents who had medical insurance money to burn. Horrific as it was, there was somewhat of a trend. Without resorting to the legal (read:juvie) system poorer kids had to go through, you could have your child locked up, medicated, and out of your hair for as long as your insurance company kept footing the bill. I won't go into the details of my incarceration, only that all told, it took up nearly 2 1/2 years of my life, and it was fairly horrible.
I've been suffering with the stigma of (however misdiagnosed) mental illness for years, even though I adamantly believe I do not and have never had any of the illnesses that the doctors who cashed my mothers' checks diagnosed me with. It's telling that once I was out of my mother's home the symptoms of such 'illnesses' vanished, and I was able to live a normal happy life. Certainly at 38, with a child, business, husband, home, and active social life, I bear no hallmarks of being a maladjusted or 'sick' person. (my mother, on the other hand, is the same narcissistic hyperactive nutjob she's always been.)
Still, the stigma lays dormant in the back of my head, and like all mantras repeated to you when you're young, part of you will believe it to be true even when all evidence speaks to the contrary. It is primarily to fight this inner voice that I search the internet for reasoned dissent or calls to reasonably reform the psychiatric community, which I believe needs an overhaul, particularly for minors forced to be the sacrificial lambs of family disharmony.
So this morning I found an article on Norah Vincent's book "Voluntary Madness" and added this comment to the fray, and after some consideration decided to repost it here, because by broaching the subject voluntarily, I can take some of the sting out of its secretive status.
"I was the product of an unhappy broken home, with a mother who I now believe to have Munchausen By Proxy syndrome, a condition where the sufferer gets the attention and sympathy they crave by causing false medical conditions in their children. I was a teenager in the 80's, when forced juvenile psychiatric incarceration was enjoying a malevolent heyday.
I was diagnosed with everything from paranoid schizophrenia to psychosis to borderline personality disorder (which I now find out is pretty much a BS diagnosis to many in the field). Had I come of age in the ADHD fury, I'm sure I would have been slapped with that label as well. I was forcibly medicated for these conditions, none of which I had, or have ever had, with horrible side effects. (vomiting, zombie-like sluggishness, excessive sleep, weight gain, unstable mood swings, thoughts of suicide.) All of these conditions magically vanished when I was finally out of my mother's care. Once I got over the trauma of having spent 2 1/2 years incarcerated against my will and all that had happened to me as a result (including, but not limited to: molestation, assault, witnessing hard drug use and suicide attempts) I was a happy, healthy, highly functioning adult. I now run my own business and am raising a wonderful son.
My point is this: the psychiatric community dropped the ball en masse for me and many of my peers confined to these places. For every person actually struggling with a disease or condition, there were at least 10 others who were simply dropped off so that lazy, cruel, or clueless parents wouldn't have to do their jobs. That these hospitals were doing the job for them at an enormous profit sends a red flag up for me. It's seemingly very easy, in a family therapy situation, to side with the one holding the purse strings. Since every therapist not paid (directly or indirectly) by my mother said there was nothing wrong with me, I find it curious that the ones who did always had my mother's check in their hand. Whether deliberate or subconscious, the conflict of interest renders the diagnosis in such cases highly suspect, to say the least.
I am not a Scientologist, and I don't believe we should do away with the industry, which can do good when kept in check. But there is rampant abuse of the system, and it needs an overhaul. There is no such thing as a 'bad' or 'sick' individual in a healty family unit. The family dynamic should always be considered as a whole, because save for an organic or obvious physical defect, it is the entire family who is responsible for the behaviour of its members. No kid who acts out does so in a happy, healthy, functioning family, and if even a mismedicated teenage kid understands this, it boggles my mind why a slew of supposedly educated psychiatric professionals could have missed it.
Medication should be treated with caution, particularly in young people whose bodies are still maturing and developing. Great harm can be done by mismedicating."
I could spew volumes of text on this, but let me just say that the things I experienced have left in me a healthy dose of disrespect for the psychiatric community, especially where it relates to medication or incarceration of minors. Any teacher recommending Ritalin for my child better do so wearing a HazMat suit, because I'm holding the ball of my son's care, and I don't have the butterfingers my parents had.
3/2/09
Wipe Off That Angel Face, and Go Back to High School
IN HIGH SCHOOL DID YOU...
1. DID YOU DATE SOMEONE FROM YOUR SCHOOL?
I wouldn't call it 'dating'.
2. DID YOU MARRY SOMEONE FROM YOUR HIGH SCHOOL?
He went to my high school, but not while I was there. He's 6 years younger than me.
3. DID YOU CARPOOL TO SCHOOL?
No, I rode the bus. I couldn't drive until after I was 22.
4. WHAT KIND OF CAR DID YOU HAVE?
See above.
5. WHAT KIND OF CAR DO YOU HAVE NOW?
2006 Pontiac Vibe. I love it.
6. IT'S SATURDAY NIGHT... WHERE WERE YOU THEN?
Usually reading or drawing. I was pretty withdrawn.
7. IT'S SATURDAY NIGHT... WHERE ARE YOU NOW?
Singing in my band, sewing, crafting, hanging out with my wonderful husband and lovely son, or my super fantastic friends.
8. WHERE DID YOU WORK?
At 15 I worked in the concession stand at Manchester Pool. Very nearly the worst job ever.
9. WHAT KIND OF JOB DO YOU DO NOW?
I own my own successful clothing and jewelry business.
10. WERE YOU A PARTY ANIMAL?
No, those days came later.
11. WERE YOU CONSIDERED A FLIRT?
Good god, no. I couldn't stand 99% of the guys in my high school.
12. WHAT EXTRA CURRICULAR ACTIVITIES WERE YOU IN?
I was a true dork in high school, LOL. All extracurricular activities were off-campus.
13. WHERE YOU A NERD?
Yes, but I'm thankful for that now.
14. DID YOU GET SUSPENDED OR EXPELLED?
No, but I did drop out of my own volition in Junior year. I hated high school, and just wanted that part of my life over.
15. FAVORITE HIGH SCHOOL MEMORY?
Leaving.
16. WHAT WERE YOUR FAVORITE SUBJECTS?
Art was my favourite subject normally, but I didn't like my art teacher's style--he was a tad militaristic for such a creative subject. Again, I would say my favourite subject was anything I studied on my own away from school.
17. WHO WERE YOUR BEST FRIENDS?
Mostly people I saw outside of school. My high school was mostly preppy and stoner, with a helping of bussed-in city kids. I didn't click with any of them, so I found a few outside of school. One I am still very good friends with to this day.
18. WHAT WAS YOUR SCHOOL'S FULL NAME & MASCOT?
Parkway West Senior High was the name. I couldn't tell you who the mascot was.
19. WHAT YEAR DID YOU GRADUATE?
I *graduated* in 1987. I dropped out and took the GED within 2 months. I wish I had done it sooner.
20. WORST HIGH SCHOOL MEMORY?
Pretty much all of them. It was a very bad period in my life, although school wasn't the only culprit. My mother and I did not get along (still don't, really.) and I had no escape from her. Until I was out on my own, my life sucked. Of course, every year after that has been the best year of my life, so I'm not complaining. I have a wonderful devoted husband, a whip-smart adorable little boy, a successful business, very good friends, and am routinely assumed to be 5 or 10 years younger than I am. I'd say I turned out okay. ;)
21. IF YOU COULD GO BACK AND DO IT AGAIN, WOULD YOU?
Yes, only because it made me the person I am today.
22. DID YOU HAVE FUN AT PROM?
Didn't go.
23. DO YOU STILL TALK TO THE PERSON YOU WENT TO PROM WITH?
n/a
24. ARE YOU PLANNING ON GOING TO YOUR NEXT REUNION?
Eh, probably not. I went to the 10th, looked around, and that's enough for me.
25. DO YOU STILL TALK TO PEOPLE FROM SCHOOL?
One or two.
26. FAVORITE BAND?
Social Distortion, Amy Winehouse, Etta James, the Misfits, Concrete Blonde, Elvis
27. ANYONE FROM YOUR SCHOOL BECOME FAMOUS?
I wouldn't know.
28. DO YOU STILL LIVE IN THE TOWN YOU DID IN HIGH SCHOOL?
Yes, though not the same part.
29. DID YOU FOLLOW THE CAREER PATH YOU HAD PLANNED IN HIGH SCHOOL?
If you mean the one where I survived high school and got the hell out of my mothers' house, then yes. But I didn't go to New York, become a famous artist/writer/singer/sculptor/actress, and I didn't marry Johnny Rotten and live in loft in the Village, so no.
30. HAS YOUR LIFE TURNED OUT THE WAY YOU THOUGHT IT WOULD BE BACK WHEN YOU WERE PLANNING YOUR 'FUTURE'?
My life is so much better than I ever could have imagined at that age. Really, the two are worlds apart.
1. DID YOU DATE SOMEONE FROM YOUR SCHOOL?
I wouldn't call it 'dating'.
2. DID YOU MARRY SOMEONE FROM YOUR HIGH SCHOOL?
He went to my high school, but not while I was there. He's 6 years younger than me.
3. DID YOU CARPOOL TO SCHOOL?
No, I rode the bus. I couldn't drive until after I was 22.
4. WHAT KIND OF CAR DID YOU HAVE?
See above.
5. WHAT KIND OF CAR DO YOU HAVE NOW?
2006 Pontiac Vibe. I love it.
6. IT'S SATURDAY NIGHT... WHERE WERE YOU THEN?
Usually reading or drawing. I was pretty withdrawn.
7. IT'S SATURDAY NIGHT... WHERE ARE YOU NOW?
Singing in my band, sewing, crafting, hanging out with my wonderful husband and lovely son, or my super fantastic friends.
8. WHERE DID YOU WORK?
At 15 I worked in the concession stand at Manchester Pool. Very nearly the worst job ever.
9. WHAT KIND OF JOB DO YOU DO NOW?
I own my own successful clothing and jewelry business.
10. WERE YOU A PARTY ANIMAL?
No, those days came later.
11. WERE YOU CONSIDERED A FLIRT?
Good god, no. I couldn't stand 99% of the guys in my high school.
12. WHAT EXTRA CURRICULAR ACTIVITIES WERE YOU IN?
I was a true dork in high school, LOL. All extracurricular activities were off-campus.
13. WHERE YOU A NERD?
Yes, but I'm thankful for that now.
14. DID YOU GET SUSPENDED OR EXPELLED?
No, but I did drop out of my own volition in Junior year. I hated high school, and just wanted that part of my life over.
15. FAVORITE HIGH SCHOOL MEMORY?
Leaving.
16. WHAT WERE YOUR FAVORITE SUBJECTS?
Art was my favourite subject normally, but I didn't like my art teacher's style--he was a tad militaristic for such a creative subject. Again, I would say my favourite subject was anything I studied on my own away from school.
17. WHO WERE YOUR BEST FRIENDS?
Mostly people I saw outside of school. My high school was mostly preppy and stoner, with a helping of bussed-in city kids. I didn't click with any of them, so I found a few outside of school. One I am still very good friends with to this day.
18. WHAT WAS YOUR SCHOOL'S FULL NAME & MASCOT?
Parkway West Senior High was the name. I couldn't tell you who the mascot was.
19. WHAT YEAR DID YOU GRADUATE?
I *graduated* in 1987. I dropped out and took the GED within 2 months. I wish I had done it sooner.
20. WORST HIGH SCHOOL MEMORY?
Pretty much all of them. It was a very bad period in my life, although school wasn't the only culprit. My mother and I did not get along (still don't, really.) and I had no escape from her. Until I was out on my own, my life sucked. Of course, every year after that has been the best year of my life, so I'm not complaining. I have a wonderful devoted husband, a whip-smart adorable little boy, a successful business, very good friends, and am routinely assumed to be 5 or 10 years younger than I am. I'd say I turned out okay. ;)
21. IF YOU COULD GO BACK AND DO IT AGAIN, WOULD YOU?
Yes, only because it made me the person I am today.
22. DID YOU HAVE FUN AT PROM?
Didn't go.
23. DO YOU STILL TALK TO THE PERSON YOU WENT TO PROM WITH?
n/a
24. ARE YOU PLANNING ON GOING TO YOUR NEXT REUNION?
Eh, probably not. I went to the 10th, looked around, and that's enough for me.
25. DO YOU STILL TALK TO PEOPLE FROM SCHOOL?
One or two.
26. FAVORITE BAND?
Social Distortion, Amy Winehouse, Etta James, the Misfits, Concrete Blonde, Elvis
27. ANYONE FROM YOUR SCHOOL BECOME FAMOUS?
I wouldn't know.
28. DO YOU STILL LIVE IN THE TOWN YOU DID IN HIGH SCHOOL?
Yes, though not the same part.
29. DID YOU FOLLOW THE CAREER PATH YOU HAD PLANNED IN HIGH SCHOOL?
If you mean the one where I survived high school and got the hell out of my mothers' house, then yes. But I didn't go to New York, become a famous artist/writer/singer/sculptor/actress, and I didn't marry Johnny Rotten and live in loft in the Village, so no.
30. HAS YOUR LIFE TURNED OUT THE WAY YOU THOUGHT IT WOULD BE BACK WHEN YOU WERE PLANNING YOUR 'FUTURE'?
My life is so much better than I ever could have imagined at that age. Really, the two are worlds apart.
2/1/09
Reasons Justin Theroux just might be God.
1. The man can wear a hat. And look natural, and effortlessly stylish, and cool, and badass. I can't name on one hand the number of men in this day and age that can do that. (Mike Ness and John Hamm come to mind, and no others, really.)
2. Actually, amend that to the man can wear anything. Whether in a tux or a suit, jeans and a hoodie, a cool motorcycle jacket you wish your husband had, or hell, nothing at all, he never looks out of place. Some guys just have style without looking like they're trying. Cary Grant had it, Clooney has it, Justin Theroux has it in spades.
3. All of which is undoubtedly helped by the fact that the man is plasma hot. Seriously, this is the finest brother in Hollywood these days.
4. Even with the looks, he's still wildly talented. Acting, writing, and now directing, he's got the skills to pay the bills. Tropic Thunder was half his and half Stiller's, and they hit it out of the box. And anyone who's seen his turns in Mulholland Drive and Six Feet Under knows the boy's got the acting thing down pat.
5. He's been in not one, but two David Lynch films. The aforementioned Mulholland Drive, where he played a movie director that steals the protagonist's love interest; and the lesser known Empire Falls, in which he's both creepy and alluring.
6. He reminds me of both a young Mike Ness and young Bruce Campbell. He has neither the former man's battle with heroin, nor the latter's anvil chin, but he definitely has a tinge of dangerous charm (Ness) and barely contained insane black humour (Campbell). Maybe it's the unruly eyebrows, or the piercing stare and angular features. It makes him look just a little cruel, and I like it like that.
7. The boy ain't just brunet, he black. Haired, that is. Dark hair is like kryptonite to me; even the chest thatch he sports in Six Feet Under isn't enough to deter a body-hair phobe like me. His hair and eyes are so black you can see stars collapsing on their perimeter and falling in. So dark even light doesn't escape.
8. He has a timeless air about him. Vampire fiction in all its flowery form sucks; that's a fact. And yet, were someone to cast Mr. Theroux as the walking dead, I wouldn't argue. He has the air of being around for millenia. Something about him seems as suited for the Industrial Revolution as the Information Age. Perhaps it's the glint of sarcastic, world-weary intelligence that shines out of his face. Or maybe he's been bathing in the blood of virgins at night. Whatever it is, it works.
9. He's going to be a good-looking man for a long time, possibly forever. You can tell some guys are going to be fantastic for years to come, and they don't come around often. That all-important combination of good looks, effortless style, intellect, studiousness, talent, artistry, psychological agility, street smarts and something my old teacher called "got-your-shit-togetherness" is not often found wrapped up in one person, and it's especially rare among the empty-headed self-indulgent Hollywood set. If he can sidestep the hard drugs, easy money, shit talkers, pneumatic coke-huffing bimbos and fastlane burnout, he could easily age as gracefully and fabulously as Paul Newman, who was splendid to his last breath.
So he might be God. Of course, I don't believe in God, but if forced to do so I want him to look like Justin Theroux. Slick as butter and twice as fine.
1/30/09
Q&A
1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?: Nope
2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? When we watched the PBS show on Oppenheimer, who built the bombs they dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? I prefer typing.
4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? Corned beef
5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? One beautiful son.
6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Absolutely!
7. DO YOU USE SARCASM? With every waking breath.
8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? I think so.
9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Nope. I'm not 24 anymore.
10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE BREAKFAST? Pancakes with real maple syrup, dry scrambled eggs with an extra egg white, fresh mango and blueberries, strawberry orange juice, coffee with milk and sugar, and a glass of skim milk. Great, now I'm hungry.
11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? None of my shoes have ties.
13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Peppermint
14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? If they look interesting.
15. RED OR PINK? Red, always.
16. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? I am absolutely blind without my glasses.
17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? My gramma, who passed in '07.
18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO COMPLETE THIS LIST? Yes, if they want to.
19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? Jeans, no shoes right now.
21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? Mykonos by Fleet Foxes, PBS kids, and my son's electric keyboard demo.
22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Spring green
23. FAVORITE SMELLS? Mint, lilac, ylang ylang, fabric softener, my husband after a shower, my Aveda hair pomade
24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? Mia, last night.
25. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? I like Cat fine, even though I end up wasting a lot of time because of her. ;)
26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? Roller Derby and my husband's soccer games.
27. HAIR COLOR? Jet black with one blonde streak.
28. EYE COLOR? Green
29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Can't. They give me migraines.
30. FAVORITE FOOD? Indian food, buttercream frosting on red velvet cake, homemade candy, real maple syrup, hot and sour soup, mangoes, grapefruit juice, feta cheese, sushi of any kind, pineapple pizza, toasted marshmallow latte.
31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Can't watch horror movies, but I don't need a happy ending. I prefer suspenseful movies, or good character studies.
32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? All the way through? The Dark Knight. Which was even better than I remembered.
33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? Black and grey off-shoulder 3/4 sleeve top.
34. SUMMER OR WINTER? I prefer winter over summer, but I love spring and fall.
35. HUGS OR KISSES? If it's from a friend, both. If it's someone I don't know real well, a handshake will do.
36. FAVORITE DESSERT? Handmade buttermints.
37. IF YOU COULD MAKE A WISH. For my son to grow up happy and healthy, and for my husband to finish his book and get it published so he doesn't have to work anymore.
38. WHAT (in general) IRRITATES YOU? People who don't have their shit together, people who are shiftless, people who make others suffer because of their own greed, fundamentalists, people having kids who can't properly care for them, and politicians who don't blink at bailing out their rich friends in the banking industry while expecting union workers to jump through hoops to get less than a 10th of the same money.
39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? I've read everything in my house.
40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? No mouse pad.
41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? I sort of watched Scrubs reruns while my husband and I fell asleep on the couch.
42. FAVORITE SOUND(S)? Good music, my son's voice, snow falling, my husband's laugh, cats purring.
43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Neither. I prefer the musicians they ripped off.
44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? Portugal.
45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? Singing, drawing, painting, dancing, sewing, acting, dirty jokes, fashion design, web design, talking shit, creative writing, making candy, baking, and throwing a right hook.
46. WHERE WERE YOU BORN? St. Louis.
47. WHAT WAS THE LAST NICE THING YOU DID FOR SOMEONE?
I hugged my son and told him I loved him.
48. WHERE DID YOU MEET YOUR SPOUSE/SIGNIFICANT OTHER? I met him in a horrible art class at Meramec. I thought he was cute, so I decided he would be my friend.
2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? When we watched the PBS show on Oppenheimer, who built the bombs they dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? I prefer typing.
4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? Corned beef
5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? One beautiful son.
6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Absolutely!
7. DO YOU USE SARCASM? With every waking breath.
8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS? I think so.
9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? Nope. I'm not 24 anymore.
10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE BREAKFAST? Pancakes with real maple syrup, dry scrambled eggs with an extra egg white, fresh mango and blueberries, strawberry orange juice, coffee with milk and sugar, and a glass of skim milk. Great, now I'm hungry.
11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? None of my shoes have ties.
13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM? Peppermint
14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? If they look interesting.
15. RED OR PINK? Red, always.
16. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? I am absolutely blind without my glasses.
17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? My gramma, who passed in '07.
18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO COMPLETE THIS LIST? Yes, if they want to.
19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING? Jeans, no shoes right now.
21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? Mykonos by Fleet Foxes, PBS kids, and my son's electric keyboard demo.
22. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? Spring green
23. FAVORITE SMELLS? Mint, lilac, ylang ylang, fabric softener, my husband after a shower, my Aveda hair pomade
24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? Mia, last night.
25. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? I like Cat fine, even though I end up wasting a lot of time because of her. ;)
26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH? Roller Derby and my husband's soccer games.
27. HAIR COLOR? Jet black with one blonde streak.
28. EYE COLOR? Green
29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? Can't. They give me migraines.
30. FAVORITE FOOD? Indian food, buttercream frosting on red velvet cake, homemade candy, real maple syrup, hot and sour soup, mangoes, grapefruit juice, feta cheese, sushi of any kind, pineapple pizza, toasted marshmallow latte.
31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Can't watch horror movies, but I don't need a happy ending. I prefer suspenseful movies, or good character studies.
32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? All the way through? The Dark Knight. Which was even better than I remembered.
33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? Black and grey off-shoulder 3/4 sleeve top.
34. SUMMER OR WINTER? I prefer winter over summer, but I love spring and fall.
35. HUGS OR KISSES? If it's from a friend, both. If it's someone I don't know real well, a handshake will do.
36. FAVORITE DESSERT? Handmade buttermints.
37. IF YOU COULD MAKE A WISH. For my son to grow up happy and healthy, and for my husband to finish his book and get it published so he doesn't have to work anymore.
38. WHAT (in general) IRRITATES YOU? People who don't have their shit together, people who are shiftless, people who make others suffer because of their own greed, fundamentalists, people having kids who can't properly care for them, and politicians who don't blink at bailing out their rich friends in the banking industry while expecting union workers to jump through hoops to get less than a 10th of the same money.
39. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW? I've read everything in my house.
40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? No mouse pad.
41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT? I sort of watched Scrubs reruns while my husband and I fell asleep on the couch.
42. FAVORITE SOUND(S)? Good music, my son's voice, snow falling, my husband's laugh, cats purring.
43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES? Neither. I prefer the musicians they ripped off.
44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME? Portugal.
45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? Singing, drawing, painting, dancing, sewing, acting, dirty jokes, fashion design, web design, talking shit, creative writing, making candy, baking, and throwing a right hook.
46. WHERE WERE YOU BORN? St. Louis.
47. WHAT WAS THE LAST NICE THING YOU DID FOR SOMEONE?
I hugged my son and told him I loved him.
48. WHERE DID YOU MEET YOUR SPOUSE/SIGNIFICANT OTHER? I met him in a horrible art class at Meramec. I thought he was cute, so I decided he would be my friend.
1/26/09
Dealbreakers
I'm not single anymore, but I vaguely remember being so. When I was single, I had a mental list of traits I found attractive and some I found unattractive. Beyond that, there were the traits so horrible, wierd, or foul-smelling that I simply couldn't look past them. These were called "Dealbreakers". This is the top 15 of them.
DEALBREAKERS
1. Cheesy pick-up lines. It can be as innocuous as an awkwardly delivered compliment on my physical appearance, but it immediately turns me off. I don't know you, so wait until I do to start all that shit.
2. Being a member of an organized religion. I'm agnostic. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that some gaps can't be bridged. Some people can look past the fact that they don't share the same views on the building blocks of the universe, but I'm not one of them. We have to start out on a pretty level playing field, because at no time in the future am I going to morph into a Christian, Wiccan, Zen Buddhist, Scientologist, or Norse Pagan. Sunday mornings are for pancakes.
3. Having any of the following: bad breath, body odor, unkempt facial hair or dirty head hair. Just because you're a guy doesn't mean you should look like a bum. Or, if you do, then date girls similar to you. If I wash my ass, so do you.
4. Bad shoes. You can tell a lot about a person by what they wear on their feet. Crocs, mandals, Nikes, unironic cowboy boots, docksiders, gators, brown leather anything, adidas slides, or birkenstocks are a serious no-no. Men's shoe fashion is a study in subtlety: Plain Chuck Taylors, doc marten shoes or boots, motorcycle boots, et al. Good shoes don't call too much attention to themselves, and they ALWAYS cover men's toes.
5. No ass. I'm a girl who likes an ass. If you ain't got one, I won't give you a second look.
6. Skinny boys. I won't say I've never dated them, but they've been the exception. I'm more likely to date a fat guy than a skinny one. Skinny guys just look like you have to mend them.
7. Men who are a lot younger or a lot older than me. I don't like to date younger men as a rule, which is why it's still weird to me that my husband is 6 years my junior. But since he's 80 on the inside, I guess it works out. I don't want to be someone's mommy, and neither do I want a daddy. I want an equal, and it's just easier to find that if you're both from the same generation.
8. Metrosexuality. I'm all for cleaning your bits, but once it branches into "being in touch with your feminine side", you've totally lost me. I'm bi; if I want to date a girl, I'll date a girl.
9. Being shiftless. I don't expect you to take care of me, but I'm for damn sure not going to take care of you. If you're over 30 and can't keep a job over a year, you can find someone else's time to waste.
10. Living with mom and dad. I don't even need to explain this, right? Paying rent all by yourself is very sexy. It means you're that much closer to being a grown-up.
11. Blond hair. It's not that blond men can't be attractive, it's just not really my thing. I prefer dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin. Blond men just don't seem to smolder as well.
12. Physical weakness. I have a fondness for a strong back and arms, because I want to know I'm not going to have to lift things all by myself.
13. Alcohol or drug addiction. I have exactly NO sympathy for practicing addicts. Your mommy can take care of your sorry ass, I have other things to do.
14. Mental lightweights. I actually prefer a guy to be smarter than me, because it pushes me to apply myself.
15. Smokers. I can deal with smoke every once in a while, but I don't like it as a rule. The smell gets everywhere, and if you don't partake yourself, it's fairly foul.
DEALBREAKERS
1. Cheesy pick-up lines. It can be as innocuous as an awkwardly delivered compliment on my physical appearance, but it immediately turns me off. I don't know you, so wait until I do to start all that shit.
2. Being a member of an organized religion. I'm agnostic. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that some gaps can't be bridged. Some people can look past the fact that they don't share the same views on the building blocks of the universe, but I'm not one of them. We have to start out on a pretty level playing field, because at no time in the future am I going to morph into a Christian, Wiccan, Zen Buddhist, Scientologist, or Norse Pagan. Sunday mornings are for pancakes.
3. Having any of the following: bad breath, body odor, unkempt facial hair or dirty head hair. Just because you're a guy doesn't mean you should look like a bum. Or, if you do, then date girls similar to you. If I wash my ass, so do you.
4. Bad shoes. You can tell a lot about a person by what they wear on their feet. Crocs, mandals, Nikes, unironic cowboy boots, docksiders, gators, brown leather anything, adidas slides, or birkenstocks are a serious no-no. Men's shoe fashion is a study in subtlety: Plain Chuck Taylors, doc marten shoes or boots, motorcycle boots, et al. Good shoes don't call too much attention to themselves, and they ALWAYS cover men's toes.
5. No ass. I'm a girl who likes an ass. If you ain't got one, I won't give you a second look.
6. Skinny boys. I won't say I've never dated them, but they've been the exception. I'm more likely to date a fat guy than a skinny one. Skinny guys just look like you have to mend them.
7. Men who are a lot younger or a lot older than me. I don't like to date younger men as a rule, which is why it's still weird to me that my husband is 6 years my junior. But since he's 80 on the inside, I guess it works out. I don't want to be someone's mommy, and neither do I want a daddy. I want an equal, and it's just easier to find that if you're both from the same generation.
8. Metrosexuality. I'm all for cleaning your bits, but once it branches into "being in touch with your feminine side", you've totally lost me. I'm bi; if I want to date a girl, I'll date a girl.
9. Being shiftless. I don't expect you to take care of me, but I'm for damn sure not going to take care of you. If you're over 30 and can't keep a job over a year, you can find someone else's time to waste.
10. Living with mom and dad. I don't even need to explain this, right? Paying rent all by yourself is very sexy. It means you're that much closer to being a grown-up.
11. Blond hair. It's not that blond men can't be attractive, it's just not really my thing. I prefer dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin. Blond men just don't seem to smolder as well.
12. Physical weakness. I have a fondness for a strong back and arms, because I want to know I'm not going to have to lift things all by myself.
13. Alcohol or drug addiction. I have exactly NO sympathy for practicing addicts. Your mommy can take care of your sorry ass, I have other things to do.
14. Mental lightweights. I actually prefer a guy to be smarter than me, because it pushes me to apply myself.
15. Smokers. I can deal with smoke every once in a while, but I don't like it as a rule. The smell gets everywhere, and if you don't partake yourself, it's fairly foul.
1/23/09
Wasting Time
Step 1: Put your music player on shuffle.
Step 2: Post the first line from the 1st 25 songs no matter how embarrassing
Step 3: Strike through once someone guesses both the artist and the track correctly.
Step 4: For those who are guessing, looking up the lyrics is CHEATING.
Step 5: If you like the game post your own.
1. All I can ever be to you is a darkness that we knew
2. The door slammed loud and rose up a cloud of dust
3. The most tender place in my heart is for strangers
4. Climb the highest mountain, sail across the sea
5. When the rain is blowing in your face
6. Let me lay it on the line, I got a little freakiness inside
7. I don't want you to be no slave
8. I remember way back, way back when
9. When you walk in the bar, and you dressed like a star
10. See them on their big bright screen
11. I once met a man with a sense of adventure
12. I've been walking in the same way as I did
13. He looked down into her blue eyes and said "say a prayer for me"
14. Well you've been making your brags around town that you been lovin' my man
15. Shattered dreams, worthless years
16. In a police car I feel so very small
17. They can make things worse for me
18. Well it's been ten years and a thousand tears
19. It's been three weeks since you been lookin' for your friend
20. Down in Mexicali there's a crazy little place that I love
21. I was following the I was following
22. If you're looking for trouble, you came to the right place
23. Que bonitos ojos tienes
24. Well, when I was young I was so full of fear
25. Birds flying high you know how I feel
Good luck!
Step 2: Post the first line from the 1st 25 songs no matter how embarrassing
Step 3: Strike through once someone guesses both the artist and the track correctly.
Step 4: For those who are guessing, looking up the lyrics is CHEATING.
Step 5: If you like the game post your own.
1. All I can ever be to you is a darkness that we knew
2. The door slammed loud and rose up a cloud of dust
3. The most tender place in my heart is for strangers
4. Climb the highest mountain, sail across the sea
5. When the rain is blowing in your face
6. Let me lay it on the line, I got a little freakiness inside
7. I don't want you to be no slave
8. I remember way back, way back when
9. When you walk in the bar, and you dressed like a star
10. See them on their big bright screen
11. I once met a man with a sense of adventure
12. I've been walking in the same way as I did
13. He looked down into her blue eyes and said "say a prayer for me"
14. Well you've been making your brags around town that you been lovin' my man
15. Shattered dreams, worthless years
16. In a police car I feel so very small
17. They can make things worse for me
18. Well it's been ten years and a thousand tears
19. It's been three weeks since you been lookin' for your friend
20. Down in Mexicali there's a crazy little place that I love
21. I was following the I was following
22. If you're looking for trouble, you came to the right place
23. Que bonitos ojos tienes
24. Well, when I was young I was so full of fear
25. Birds flying high you know how I feel
Good luck!
1/15/09
25 Movies I can't live Without.
I borrowed this concept from Amanda Michel, whose movie choices are much cooler and less well known than mine, I think.
These aren't necessarily the movies I've seen the most (I've watched the Lord of the Rings trilogy an embarrassing amount of times), but they are the ones that have struck that chord deep inside me that says "This! This is home!" I wonder what that says about me.
1. Death Proof. Not Quentin Tarantino's best known work, but my favourite by far of his oeuvre. Sexy girls, sailor talk, fantastic soundtrack, muscle cars, and bloody revenge. Hot damn!
2. LA Confidential. Proof that not all movies set in the 50's have to be Grease. Not that there's anything wrong with Grease (also on this list), but the 50's were like any other time in history; some bad shit went down. Fills the noir theme without being derivative. Hell, it even got me to like Kim Basinger.
3. Velvet Goldmine. Set in one of the most fun (and oft forgotten) periods of music history: the Glam years. Purported to be loosely based on the supposed affair between Ziggy-era Bowie and Iggy Pop, this movie is a glitter-crusted heroin spike: sweet as candy on the outside and rotten to the core. Plus, any movie where Ewan MacGregor takes his pants off can't be all bad.
4. Hedwig. I don't even need to explain why this is on here, do I? It's a car wash, ladies and gentleman!
5. Mulholland Drive. I love just about everything David Lynch touches, even the things that I don't understand at all, but since I'm a little in love with Laura Elena Harring and a LOT in love with Justin Theroux, this movie spends a lot of time in my VCR. That's right, I love it so much I actually brave the technology of the 80's to watch it.
6. Desperately Seeking Susan. Sure, Madonna can't act (or sing for that matter). But nothing takes me back to the girl I was in high school like this movie. Not because the fab New Yawk locales look anything even close to my horrid suburban hometown, but because at that time of my life I wanted to be Madge's character--running from hoods, living out of people's houses, being quick witted and light on my feet and beholden to no one. Like everything we like when we're young, this just takes me back.
7. Mystery Train. Love Jim Jarmusch, and this is one of his best films. Any movie that casts Screamin' Jay Hawkins, the ghost of Elvis, and the late Joe Strummer is virtually guaranteed greatness.
8. City of Lost Children. Actually, everything this director does is fabulous, but this magical french tale of an elderly despot who kidnaps children to steal their dreams is filled with so much dark wonder that you can't take your eyes off it. What other movie boasts crazy narcoleptic scientist clones, a midget nurse with a towering hairdo, a talking brain in a jar and murderous conjoined hag twins? No one, that's who.
9. Ghost World. The first time I watched this movie I felt like someone had filmed my brain in high school. Except made it funnier and cooler than it ever was in real life.
10. Mystery Men. Misfit Superheroes save the world. With forks and flatulence. Seriously, everything about this movie rocks. If you haven't seen it, you should.
11. Iron Giant. I saw this in the theater 4 times. I cried like a cholicky baby 3.5 times. Pure brilliance.
12. Another State of Mind. Of course this movie is going to be on my list. Besides being a chunk of late 80's punk rock history, it's also filled with unintentionally hilarious footage of early Social Distortion. Being several huge fans of Social Distortion myself, I have to include this on any list of films I make.
13. Grease. The ironic thing is that I wasn't allowed to see this in the theatre when I was little. My mom thought it was too risque, and so I was well into my 20's before I saw it. So of course I watched it, like 5 times in one sitting. My favourite character is Rizzo, because Sandy is an annoying twat until the very end.
14. Silence of the Lambs. My fascination with abnormal psychology aside, this movie is extremely well made, and the performances are perfect to a man. What other movie about serial murderers warranted an Oscar? None that I can think of. Maybe Zodiac, but not many others.
15. Crybaby. Yeah, it's not his best work, but Johnny Depp in a leather jacket and pompadour can make you forgive a lot of things. Plus, this list is what I like, and I admittedly like some corny things.
16. Pretty in Pink. Oh c'mon. I'm a girl who was a teenager in the 80's. It's practically stamped on my DNA to like this movie.
17. Usual Suspects. I've watched this movie 100+ times and the ending still gets me.
18. Kill Bill. I'm going to count both parts as one movie because I usually watch them back to back. You either love Tarantino or hate him. I love him, and I love this movie.
19. High Fidelity. The cast is excellent, the writing is top-notch, and Jack Black gets to be his Jack Blackiest. Every character in this film reminds me of everyone I've ever met.
20. Heathers. This is the last time Christian slater was cool. But boy, was he cool.
21. Spirited Away. Such a beautiful film! I love Miyazaki's style, but this film is his most accessible for me. I wish our kid hadn't gotten the DVD out of the case and broken it. :(
22. Wall-E. Speaking of our little one, he watches this movie 3 times a day, every day. And you know what? I still like it.
23. Tropic Thunder. This movie is just fucking funny, with an unbelievable performance by Robert Downey Jr. "I'm a lead farmer, mothafucker!" Priceless.
24. Breakfast at Tiffany's. Even with Mickey Rooney's undeniably racist performance and the movie's departure from Capote's original story, it's still one of my favourite movies. Audrey Hepburn is transcendent, as always.
25. Dazed & Confused. Richard Linklater is the master at capturing the feel of a moment. Every minute of this movie feels less like film and more like time-travelling voyeurism. We've all known these people, even if some of us were too young to have passed through the 70's firsthand. this movie gets promoted as a moronic pothead comedy, but it's much, much deeper than that.
There, I'm finished. I'm sure I've forgotten some of my very favourites, and I'll question my tastes in ten years, but it's done, and it's perfect in this instant so I'll leave it be.
These aren't necessarily the movies I've seen the most (I've watched the Lord of the Rings trilogy an embarrassing amount of times), but they are the ones that have struck that chord deep inside me that says "This! This is home!" I wonder what that says about me.
1. Death Proof. Not Quentin Tarantino's best known work, but my favourite by far of his oeuvre. Sexy girls, sailor talk, fantastic soundtrack, muscle cars, and bloody revenge. Hot damn!
2. LA Confidential. Proof that not all movies set in the 50's have to be Grease. Not that there's anything wrong with Grease (also on this list), but the 50's were like any other time in history; some bad shit went down. Fills the noir theme without being derivative. Hell, it even got me to like Kim Basinger.
3. Velvet Goldmine. Set in one of the most fun (and oft forgotten) periods of music history: the Glam years. Purported to be loosely based on the supposed affair between Ziggy-era Bowie and Iggy Pop, this movie is a glitter-crusted heroin spike: sweet as candy on the outside and rotten to the core. Plus, any movie where Ewan MacGregor takes his pants off can't be all bad.
4. Hedwig. I don't even need to explain why this is on here, do I? It's a car wash, ladies and gentleman!
5. Mulholland Drive. I love just about everything David Lynch touches, even the things that I don't understand at all, but since I'm a little in love with Laura Elena Harring and a LOT in love with Justin Theroux, this movie spends a lot of time in my VCR. That's right, I love it so much I actually brave the technology of the 80's to watch it.
6. Desperately Seeking Susan. Sure, Madonna can't act (or sing for that matter). But nothing takes me back to the girl I was in high school like this movie. Not because the fab New Yawk locales look anything even close to my horrid suburban hometown, but because at that time of my life I wanted to be Madge's character--running from hoods, living out of people's houses, being quick witted and light on my feet and beholden to no one. Like everything we like when we're young, this just takes me back.
7. Mystery Train. Love Jim Jarmusch, and this is one of his best films. Any movie that casts Screamin' Jay Hawkins, the ghost of Elvis, and the late Joe Strummer is virtually guaranteed greatness.
8. City of Lost Children. Actually, everything this director does is fabulous, but this magical french tale of an elderly despot who kidnaps children to steal their dreams is filled with so much dark wonder that you can't take your eyes off it. What other movie boasts crazy narcoleptic scientist clones, a midget nurse with a towering hairdo, a talking brain in a jar and murderous conjoined hag twins? No one, that's who.
9. Ghost World. The first time I watched this movie I felt like someone had filmed my brain in high school. Except made it funnier and cooler than it ever was in real life.
10. Mystery Men. Misfit Superheroes save the world. With forks and flatulence. Seriously, everything about this movie rocks. If you haven't seen it, you should.
11. Iron Giant. I saw this in the theater 4 times. I cried like a cholicky baby 3.5 times. Pure brilliance.
12. Another State of Mind. Of course this movie is going to be on my list. Besides being a chunk of late 80's punk rock history, it's also filled with unintentionally hilarious footage of early Social Distortion. Being several huge fans of Social Distortion myself, I have to include this on any list of films I make.
13. Grease. The ironic thing is that I wasn't allowed to see this in the theatre when I was little. My mom thought it was too risque, and so I was well into my 20's before I saw it. So of course I watched it, like 5 times in one sitting. My favourite character is Rizzo, because Sandy is an annoying twat until the very end.
14. Silence of the Lambs. My fascination with abnormal psychology aside, this movie is extremely well made, and the performances are perfect to a man. What other movie about serial murderers warranted an Oscar? None that I can think of. Maybe Zodiac, but not many others.
15. Crybaby. Yeah, it's not his best work, but Johnny Depp in a leather jacket and pompadour can make you forgive a lot of things. Plus, this list is what I like, and I admittedly like some corny things.
16. Pretty in Pink. Oh c'mon. I'm a girl who was a teenager in the 80's. It's practically stamped on my DNA to like this movie.
17. Usual Suspects. I've watched this movie 100+ times and the ending still gets me.
18. Kill Bill. I'm going to count both parts as one movie because I usually watch them back to back. You either love Tarantino or hate him. I love him, and I love this movie.
19. High Fidelity. The cast is excellent, the writing is top-notch, and Jack Black gets to be his Jack Blackiest. Every character in this film reminds me of everyone I've ever met.
20. Heathers. This is the last time Christian slater was cool. But boy, was he cool.
21. Spirited Away. Such a beautiful film! I love Miyazaki's style, but this film is his most accessible for me. I wish our kid hadn't gotten the DVD out of the case and broken it. :(
22. Wall-E. Speaking of our little one, he watches this movie 3 times a day, every day. And you know what? I still like it.
23. Tropic Thunder. This movie is just fucking funny, with an unbelievable performance by Robert Downey Jr. "I'm a lead farmer, mothafucker!" Priceless.
24. Breakfast at Tiffany's. Even with Mickey Rooney's undeniably racist performance and the movie's departure from Capote's original story, it's still one of my favourite movies. Audrey Hepburn is transcendent, as always.
25. Dazed & Confused. Richard Linklater is the master at capturing the feel of a moment. Every minute of this movie feels less like film and more like time-travelling voyeurism. We've all known these people, even if some of us were too young to have passed through the 70's firsthand. this movie gets promoted as a moronic pothead comedy, but it's much, much deeper than that.
There, I'm finished. I'm sure I've forgotten some of my very favourites, and I'll question my tastes in ten years, but it's done, and it's perfect in this instant so I'll leave it be.
1/12/09
10 Women I Really, Really Hate.
1. Jenny McCarthy. I guess somewhere in between being an unfunny standup comic and posing for Playboy she got a medical degree and did extensive research into the causes of Autism. Go fuck yourself, Jenny, because the measles outbreak on the coast has a body count. Your un-science is killing children. DO NOT LET A CELEBRITY TELL YOU TO NOT GET YOUR KIDS VACCINATED!!!!!!!!
2. Oprah Winfrey. Everything this woman says is lapped up like pablum by the masses of dissatisfied, directionless women across the country. She pacifies them with her neo-new age bullshit, and they eat it like starved pit bulls. Indigo children? Dr. Phil? Give me a fucking break.
3. Phyllis Schlafly. She thinks women's place is in the kitchen. So she should go there and stay.
4. Ann Coulter. Who doesn't really belong on this list, because she is, in fact, a man.
5. Julia Roberts. I hate her horse laugh, her receding face skin, and her horrible movies. My least favourite actress, hands down.
6. Condaleeza Rice. Aunt Thomasina, hang your head in shame.
7. Barbara Bush. For spreading her legs and spawning her piece of shit son.
8. Kate Hudson. No reason other than every single one of her movies is the kind of pure shite that makes me feel like my eyes are bleeding. Not that I've seen any of them, but the commercials are bad enough.
9. Rachel Zoe. Not only can she not dress (or apparentally feed) herself, she's farming out her bulimic bag-lady 'style' to others so they can assault my senses as well. Cocaine and bitterness are not a meal, lady.
10. Elizabeth Hasselbeck. I can deal with the fact that she's a conservative person, but does she have to be so mind-meltingly stupid? Surely there are more erudite speakers in the ranks of the Evil Empire. ;)
2. Oprah Winfrey. Everything this woman says is lapped up like pablum by the masses of dissatisfied, directionless women across the country. She pacifies them with her neo-new age bullshit, and they eat it like starved pit bulls. Indigo children? Dr. Phil? Give me a fucking break.
3. Phyllis Schlafly. She thinks women's place is in the kitchen. So she should go there and stay.
4. Ann Coulter. Who doesn't really belong on this list, because she is, in fact, a man.
5. Julia Roberts. I hate her horse laugh, her receding face skin, and her horrible movies. My least favourite actress, hands down.
6. Condaleeza Rice. Aunt Thomasina, hang your head in shame.
7. Barbara Bush. For spreading her legs and spawning her piece of shit son.
8. Kate Hudson. No reason other than every single one of her movies is the kind of pure shite that makes me feel like my eyes are bleeding. Not that I've seen any of them, but the commercials are bad enough.
9. Rachel Zoe. Not only can she not dress (or apparentally feed) herself, she's farming out her bulimic bag-lady 'style' to others so they can assault my senses as well. Cocaine and bitterness are not a meal, lady.
10. Elizabeth Hasselbeck. I can deal with the fact that she's a conservative person, but does she have to be so mind-meltingly stupid? Surely there are more erudite speakers in the ranks of the Evil Empire. ;)
11/30/08
Thanx for the Spanx
Trite though it surely may be, and undoubtedly sloppy writing, this time of year always makes me wistful for all the things and people I am truly, truly, thankful for. I have blessings too numerous to count, confidants and loved ones galore, and a path in life that affords me not only a sense of purpose, but enough money to pay my bills and perpetuate my chosen livelihood. Not many, especially in this horrid economy, get to do what they want to do with their lives. I am lucky, a fact I thank Fate for every day.
So in the spirit of shaking things up a little, I'd like to give some thanks for events over the past year, which, while seeming highly negative on the surface, have actually enriched my life. No particulars are necessary, because the people involved don't really matter in the long run.
When you're young, your standards for friends and acquaintances are very easy to reach. Anyone who's ever watched two children bond instantly over a shared age or love of dinosaurs can attest to that. The hoops adults jump through later in life are constructed after years of easy friendships lead to false or fair-weather friends.
Eventually, your bullshit filters get just sharp enough to keep most of the detritus out. You weed out the codependents, the backstabbers, the toxic attention vampires, and all the rest of the people you outgrow on your way to becoming a grown up.
Every once in a while, though, you encounter people who slip under your radar. Hey, we're all fallible. It feels good to meet new people, and tell all your stories, and hear all their stories, and bond. And 99% of the time, it's a beautiful thing. Most people are basically good, (but don't tell anyone I told you so, I've a rep to protect) and I believe even the people who do you dirt don't set out to do it on purpose. But dirt they sometimes do, and the consequences are the same whether intentional or not.
I've met some really, really wonderful people this past year. People who I would take a bullet for, people whose kids I would protect from bears, people who I dearly and truly love. And for that I am lucky, because many people in this world go without one good friend, much less the ones I have. They know who they are.
I say this to illustrate that the rewards of close friendship come with the occasional pitfall; sometimes people misrepresent themselves, even to themselves, and it's only once you've come out on the other side and gotten some distance from the person that you can start to see the bullet you dodged by ending the friendship. Particularly if that person is batshit, head over heels, balls out swingin', looney tooney bins.
But I digress.
The reason I bring this up is not to dwell too long on the person involved, but to demonstrate the positive effects of dealing with a negative person. Chiefly of which is this: dealing only with people you like, who like you, can only tell you so much about how you handle a stressful situation. Dealing with people who have made you angry, and doing it in a manner befitting an adult, tells you much more. If you can keep your cool but still get your point across, you can count yourself a grown-up. Congratulations.
Likewise important is the fact that making a mistake in sizing up a potential friend lets you know you're not infallible, and we need those curveballs every once in a while to keep us on our toes. Psychosis doesn't just live in the stinky guy who shuffles down the street talking to Elvis: it takes many forms, and some of those might be in front of you from time to time. You don't have to let it make you bitter, because like I said before, most people are basically good. It just serves to remind you to keep an eye open every once in a while.
And finally, getting through the breakup of a friendship lets you know that no matter what happens in the blowup, the aftermath is never as bad as you think it's going to be. Frequently it ends not with a bang but a whimper. Or a sigh of relief knowing you don't have ten more crazy years in front of you with someone whose screws aren't tamped down so tight.
So here's to a new year, with new challenges and victories, peaks and valleys, and all other trite metaphors for the greased roller coaster of life. But as long as I have my boys, my health, and my boys' health, I will abide.
'Cause I'm a soldier, fool, what?!
So in the spirit of shaking things up a little, I'd like to give some thanks for events over the past year, which, while seeming highly negative on the surface, have actually enriched my life. No particulars are necessary, because the people involved don't really matter in the long run.
When you're young, your standards for friends and acquaintances are very easy to reach. Anyone who's ever watched two children bond instantly over a shared age or love of dinosaurs can attest to that. The hoops adults jump through later in life are constructed after years of easy friendships lead to false or fair-weather friends.
Eventually, your bullshit filters get just sharp enough to keep most of the detritus out. You weed out the codependents, the backstabbers, the toxic attention vampires, and all the rest of the people you outgrow on your way to becoming a grown up.
Every once in a while, though, you encounter people who slip under your radar. Hey, we're all fallible. It feels good to meet new people, and tell all your stories, and hear all their stories, and bond. And 99% of the time, it's a beautiful thing. Most people are basically good, (but don't tell anyone I told you so, I've a rep to protect) and I believe even the people who do you dirt don't set out to do it on purpose. But dirt they sometimes do, and the consequences are the same whether intentional or not.
I've met some really, really wonderful people this past year. People who I would take a bullet for, people whose kids I would protect from bears, people who I dearly and truly love. And for that I am lucky, because many people in this world go without one good friend, much less the ones I have. They know who they are.
I say this to illustrate that the rewards of close friendship come with the occasional pitfall; sometimes people misrepresent themselves, even to themselves, and it's only once you've come out on the other side and gotten some distance from the person that you can start to see the bullet you dodged by ending the friendship. Particularly if that person is batshit, head over heels, balls out swingin', looney tooney bins.
But I digress.
The reason I bring this up is not to dwell too long on the person involved, but to demonstrate the positive effects of dealing with a negative person. Chiefly of which is this: dealing only with people you like, who like you, can only tell you so much about how you handle a stressful situation. Dealing with people who have made you angry, and doing it in a manner befitting an adult, tells you much more. If you can keep your cool but still get your point across, you can count yourself a grown-up. Congratulations.
Likewise important is the fact that making a mistake in sizing up a potential friend lets you know you're not infallible, and we need those curveballs every once in a while to keep us on our toes. Psychosis doesn't just live in the stinky guy who shuffles down the street talking to Elvis: it takes many forms, and some of those might be in front of you from time to time. You don't have to let it make you bitter, because like I said before, most people are basically good. It just serves to remind you to keep an eye open every once in a while.
And finally, getting through the breakup of a friendship lets you know that no matter what happens in the blowup, the aftermath is never as bad as you think it's going to be. Frequently it ends not with a bang but a whimper. Or a sigh of relief knowing you don't have ten more crazy years in front of you with someone whose screws aren't tamped down so tight.
So here's to a new year, with new challenges and victories, peaks and valleys, and all other trite metaphors for the greased roller coaster of life. But as long as I have my boys, my health, and my boys' health, I will abide.
'Cause I'm a soldier, fool, what?!
10/27/08
Why you shouldn't fuck your siblings.
Because your offspring may wake up from their afternoon paint huffing blackout and try to assassinate a presidential candidate. I mean, jumping jesus on a pogo stick! Even by the yardstick with which trailer trash is usually measured, these cro-mag, wall-eyed, lead-poisoned, knuckle-dragging mouth breathers are particularly hideous.
It reminds me of one of my favourite lines from Preacher: "Why are the saviours of the white race always the worst examples of it?"
I guess it beats their normal pastime of stealing children and living under a bridge.
10/19/08
Yard Wars
I've been doing a hugely non-scientific, very haphazard study of presidential yard signs around my neighborhood and the surrounding areas for about a week now. I think St. Louis is a pretty good microcosm of the country, and hopefully a good indication of how the election might play out.
So far I've counted 100 Obama yards to 46 McCains.
Now, I'm counting yards, not signs, because one yard can have as many signs as they want before the cops knock on their door with neighbour complaints. Also, in the spirit of fairness, I should mention that I've been giving McCain the benefit of the doubt as often as I can because I don't want to be accused of bias. (By who? I don't know. The voices in my head.) I even counted the people who seem to think Sarah Palin is running for President, even though the thought of an unqualified beauty pageant contestant with her finger on the button fills me with dread. Because let's face it, McCain's got one foot in the grave and the other on a roller skate. The odds of him making it through the next four years aren't ones I'd play in Vegas.
Still even with this help, Obama is leading McCain over 2 to 1. Including in neighborhoods that traditionally side with the GOP. Rich white people with Obama signs on their perfectly manicured front lawns, what's the world coming to?
So we'll see. We'll see. At any rate, even a wheel of cheese in the Oval Office has to be better than what we've got.
So far I've counted 100 Obama yards to 46 McCains.
Now, I'm counting yards, not signs, because one yard can have as many signs as they want before the cops knock on their door with neighbour complaints. Also, in the spirit of fairness, I should mention that I've been giving McCain the benefit of the doubt as often as I can because I don't want to be accused of bias. (By who? I don't know. The voices in my head.) I even counted the people who seem to think Sarah Palin is running for President, even though the thought of an unqualified beauty pageant contestant with her finger on the button fills me with dread. Because let's face it, McCain's got one foot in the grave and the other on a roller skate. The odds of him making it through the next four years aren't ones I'd play in Vegas.
Still even with this help, Obama is leading McCain over 2 to 1. Including in neighborhoods that traditionally side with the GOP. Rich white people with Obama signs on their perfectly manicured front lawns, what's the world coming to?
So we'll see. We'll see. At any rate, even a wheel of cheese in the Oval Office has to be better than what we've got.
10/15/08
Colour my World
I finally did it!! My living room, after being the colour of split pea soup for nearly FOUR DECADES, has finally been painted!
Gone are the yogurt stains, the crayon mural my son painted for us on the front wall when my husband wasn't watching him closely enough, and, of course, the early 70's asparagus vomit hue. (for those of you who don't remember the 70's, it's the era that brought us harvest gold appliances, coke paraphenalia as personal adornment, and the Chest Thatch.) Any decade that tells us the colour of baby poo makes for good home decorating is not one I need to listen to. So, out with the old, in with the new. The new bright coral, to be exact.
See, I'm not afraid of colour, provided it's reminiscent of a Miami bordello, circa 1957.
It matches our stained Toddler Couch and 2006 Crapshack Woodlike computer desk perfectly. But the best part of it isn't the paint, or even the afternoon-long high I got from the primer fumes (thank you, Kilz!), it's the fact that we can finally get rid of the godawful, slowly disintegrating Carpet from Hell.See, the last time this house was redecorated, Nixon had yet to be a crook, Elvis was still alive for the first time, and the nation's tastemongers went through a coke-induced hallucination that olive drab short-pile wall-to-wall carpet (made solely of petroleum by-products) was the most delicious thing a thinking person could put under their feet. As visionary as this line of thought was, the miles of bile-hued Berber that covered our bungalow as a result have not held up since their inception two score years ago.
This carpet has been wasting away like the Bush Administration's approval rating. I don't need to wonder what we have underneath it, because I can see it. Carpet, pad, and webbing have worn away to dust, and our wonderful hardwood floors have been sitting there like a cruel reminder of a more stylish time.
I didn't pull it up because I've been adamant that it serve at least one purpose in its foul life: as a drop cloth. Now that the walls are no longer the colour of lime jello left out in the sun, I can rip it out by its filthy roots. And then piss on it. And set it on fire. And insult its mother.
So as soon as my pre-school induced head cold (toddlers are cute little germ factories, the lot of them!) finally leaves me some peace, I am taking a box cutter to the whole mess. This house will be party-ready, by, like, 2030 or so.
7/20/08
I f*cking love my kid.
Seriously. The F-bomb is necessary, because the pedestrian sentence doesn't cut it without it. I fucking love my kid. He's the best, he's the bomb, he's the bees' fucking knees. If everything else I ever attempt in this world fails dismally, and I raise a happy, healthy, independent kid, I'll count my life a success.
Look, I'm a sarcastic bitch, but not about my kid. I'm not easily domesticated; I'm a shitty housekeeper, I go to cooking like I'm being sent in front of a firing squad, and my skill at being a quiet, demure wife, is well, *snort* nonexistent. But as a mom, I unequivocably rock. My kid is the spitting image of me as a kid: highly energetic, independent, smart, problem-solving, boundary pushing, empathic, and easily affectionate. He's not the easiest kid to wrangle in the world, but let's face it: I don't want that kid.
Easy-going kids are not my thing. Easy-going morphs too quickly into bland, boring, and milquetoast; or covers up a conniving personality that uses subterfuge and manipulation to get what they want, since they don't have the balls to ask for it. I can't stand people like that, and I'm glad my kid is as far away from being a mousy pushover as he is.
Which is not to say he's a bully: he's a very affectionate, loving, empathetic kid who happens to have a lot of energy he doesn't (at nearly 3) know what to do with. Let me illustrate: one day I picked him up from his day care place(he goes two days a week so I can get something done besides wiping jelly off of everything three feet high), and the teacher came rushing over to me. She told me, in excited tones usually reserved for a Nobel Peace Prize nomination, that a little girl in the class had been having a meltdown that day when her mom had left. Apparentally, she wasn't comforted by anything, and the teacher had to hold her, sobbing and wailing, for a good fifteen minutes with no signs of stopping. Anyone who's ever held a screaming child knows that fifteen minutes is a lifetime.
This little girl plays with one, and only one, toy in the classroom. Ever. Apparentally, apropos of nothing, little Eddie walked over to the toy shelves, found the favoured toy, and brought it over to the unhappy girl. The teacher told me she was floored. She said it like he performed open-heart surgery or wrestled a bear.
That's one of my favourite stories, because it shows off a side of my son that isn't always in the forefront. At two and a half, he not only tried to comfort another child who was upset (a feat in itself; toddlers aren't known for their sympathetic natures), he did it by offering her her favourite toy. So not only did he want to help, he also paid enough attention to the kids around him to know what this little girl would like. For a toddler full smack in the me-me-me stages, this is something pretty fucking amazing.
So whenever he's leaping headfirst into the couch from the coffee table, or writing on the TV screen with non-washable crayons (I know, I know, but the washable ones don't come in any good colours), I have this story to remind me that underneath all the ballyhoo, my son's a genuinely good kid. And that's a platform you can build a good adult from, so we're already halfway there.
Forgive me for gushing about my kid, I know to non-breeders or pre-breeders the constant kid stories parents make can get a little grating, but all the stories you've heard about having kids are true. They will take over your life. Of course, if you're even close to being a decent human being, you won't miss your old life too much; you'll no longer give a shit about all the things you worried about when you were childless. You'll have all new things to worry about, like how you're going to pay for college, or how you're going to get the peanut butter sandwich out of the VCR.
Of course it's hard, it's harder than anything I've ever done in my life. It's more stressful than my job, my marriage, and my relationship with my family combined. I've gotten more grey hair in the last 3 years than I got in the first 35. But it's worth it, it's worth more to me than everything else in my life combined. I love my friends, I love my family, and I love my husband. But if worst comes to worst, I can survive without them. The only person on this earth I can't say that about is my son. But that's how it is with kids. They bring out the best you have to give as a person. Let me illustrate further:
I am terrified--at 38--of zombies. Pissing myself terrified. Hyperventilating-in-the-theatre-during-Sean-of-the-Dead-terrified. I say this to you with the full force of my (admittedly irrational) fear:
I would walk through a cityful of zombies to get to my son.
Even clown zombies.
That's how awesome my kid is. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go wipe yogurt off my laptop. :)
7/6/08
Best Garage Sale Ever
Sometimes it’s fate.
I’m not usually the kind of person who assigns divine origins to ordinary things. I don’t think god, if she/he/it/they exist, gives a rat's ass about the outcomes of elections, baseball games, American Idol, or war, for that matter. Deities have better things to do than pay minute attention to the daily lives of their creations; anything more is just the narcissism of human beings.
Still, if it wasn’t fate that sent me to the Best. Garage. Sale. Ever, I don’t think fate exists. Because truly there never was a garage sale more tailored to me than the one across from the house of my friend, Kate Valleroy. She’s a crafty girl I know who happens to be due to pop out a young’un in two months’ time, so I was there to give her a bag of boys’ clothes that little Eddie has *sniff* outgrown. Also, I was there to gawk at her lovely house and wish that we, too, had had the sense to paint and fix our own before the baby came. But that's a whole ‘nother tale.
We were enjoying the atypically lovely St. Louis July weather out on her carport, while my son threw fish food and leaves to her thankful koi and we snarfed down some of the sweetest strawberries I’ve ever eaten. In between bites, she mentioned her neighbor was having a really cool garage sale, and we should go before we left. Since my kid was getting further away from feeding the fish and closer to joining them in the pond, I gathered him (and his father) up, and we moseyed across the street.
Holy flarking shnit.
First of all, there wasn’t a dud in the whole sale. Tons of retro religious kitsch (the seller is a lapsed catholic who alternates between loving religious art and being creeped out by it), ‘shabby chic’ vintage linens, vintage clothing in perfect condition, juice glass sets, retro paint by numbers pictures, 1950’s figurines, and a ton of space age ashtrays back when smoking was still considered classy and refined. I just about shit myself. Every piece was better than the last. It was the best combination of circumstances ever: on one hand, she was an antique dealer, so she knew her shit when acquiring pieces--none of her items were reproductions or poor representations of the era. On the other hand, she was trying to get rid of everything, and the items she was selling weren’t her particular taste, so the prices were low. The killer was that she knew she could get more money for the stuff, but she didn’t feel like it making the extra effort.
I bought less than $50 worth of stuff, but probably walked away with $250 worth of items, easy. She said she might be having another sale, and I’m considering going back and buying another $50 to sell on Ebay or etsy to pay for the first bunch. So to share my good luck with the world (of course, I’m not sharing the location, I’m not quite THAT nice.) I took photos of everything I bought and will let you in on the finds without further ado.
This lovely couple was one of the first things I saw, and I had to have them. For one thing, she was selling them for about a 1/3 of what they’re worth, and for another, I have inherited my grandmother’s tastes for 1950’s Asian kitsch as well as almost all of Gramma's items. These will go nicely in with the rest, as will these:
And these:
In addition to that, I picked up this adorable planter and vintage painted leather doll that are hanging in the catchall shadow box in our dining room. The doll in particular walks that line between cute and creepy that I love so much in my décor. If I’m not a little afraid it’ll come to life and strangle me in my bed, it doesn’t belong in my house.
All that stuff alone is worth what I paid for the whole lot, but then she added the holy grail by having not one, but two double tiered lampshades for sale. The second one she gave me for free. With the lamp attached. She didn’t want to sell it because it needed restringing on one side, but 5 minutes total work in front of the TV will fix that. She gave me a few items for free because I bought so much stuff; also, I think, just because I was so knocked out by everything.
Also free was the little horse statue that I looked at and then put back. The lady was nice enough to throw it in gratis, just because I liked it. Of course, because she did that, I bought an additional whale planter, crescent shaped candy dish, and 4 pieces of vintage jewelry. So maybe she's smarter than me. No, scratch that, she's definitely smarter than me.
But near and dear to my heart was the final purchase: a little vintage sewing basket with all kinds of antique notions inside, including some beautiful 1920's era needle cases. I love all kinds of vintage sewing gear, especially if it has the packaging intact. Some people collect baseball cards, but I'm not much for sports. I'm much happier risking tetanus with sharpened vintage steel.
So where does fate come in, you ask? Well, I was originally supposed to meet Kate on Monday at Cooperella Cafe, but due to my famously unreliable memory, I missed it until it was well over. When I rescheduled for Friday, I forgot that most places would be closed for July 4th, including--you guessed it--Cooperella. Kate was gracious enough to invite me, my erstwhile hubby, and our whirling dervish of a son into her adorable house, which happened to be across the way from this sale, and which she just happened to know about even though it wasn't officially open yet.
For anyone besides me who loves midcentury modern, slightly tacky antiques, you'll understand that having that many things in one place for THAT cheap takes an act of god, or several gods, for that matter. So score one for the big guy. I'm sure he's much more interested in this than the Superbowl anyway. ;)
I’m not usually the kind of person who assigns divine origins to ordinary things. I don’t think god, if she/he/it/they exist, gives a rat's ass about the outcomes of elections, baseball games, American Idol, or war, for that matter. Deities have better things to do than pay minute attention to the daily lives of their creations; anything more is just the narcissism of human beings.
Still, if it wasn’t fate that sent me to the Best. Garage. Sale. Ever, I don’t think fate exists. Because truly there never was a garage sale more tailored to me than the one across from the house of my friend, Kate Valleroy. She’s a crafty girl I know who happens to be due to pop out a young’un in two months’ time, so I was there to give her a bag of boys’ clothes that little Eddie has *sniff* outgrown. Also, I was there to gawk at her lovely house and wish that we, too, had had the sense to paint and fix our own before the baby came. But that's a whole ‘nother tale.
We were enjoying the atypically lovely St. Louis July weather out on her carport, while my son threw fish food and leaves to her thankful koi and we snarfed down some of the sweetest strawberries I’ve ever eaten. In between bites, she mentioned her neighbor was having a really cool garage sale, and we should go before we left. Since my kid was getting further away from feeding the fish and closer to joining them in the pond, I gathered him (and his father) up, and we moseyed across the street.
Holy flarking shnit.
First of all, there wasn’t a dud in the whole sale. Tons of retro religious kitsch (the seller is a lapsed catholic who alternates between loving religious art and being creeped out by it), ‘shabby chic’ vintage linens, vintage clothing in perfect condition, juice glass sets, retro paint by numbers pictures, 1950’s figurines, and a ton of space age ashtrays back when smoking was still considered classy and refined. I just about shit myself. Every piece was better than the last. It was the best combination of circumstances ever: on one hand, she was an antique dealer, so she knew her shit when acquiring pieces--none of her items were reproductions or poor representations of the era. On the other hand, she was trying to get rid of everything, and the items she was selling weren’t her particular taste, so the prices were low. The killer was that she knew she could get more money for the stuff, but she didn’t feel like it making the extra effort.
I bought less than $50 worth of stuff, but probably walked away with $250 worth of items, easy. She said she might be having another sale, and I’m considering going back and buying another $50 to sell on Ebay or etsy to pay for the first bunch. So to share my good luck with the world (of course, I’m not sharing the location, I’m not quite THAT nice.) I took photos of everything I bought and will let you in on the finds without further ado.
This lovely couple was one of the first things I saw, and I had to have them. For one thing, she was selling them for about a 1/3 of what they’re worth, and for another, I have inherited my grandmother’s tastes for 1950’s Asian kitsch as well as almost all of Gramma's items. These will go nicely in with the rest, as will these:
And these:
In addition to that, I picked up this adorable planter and vintage painted leather doll that are hanging in the catchall shadow box in our dining room. The doll in particular walks that line between cute and creepy that I love so much in my décor. If I’m not a little afraid it’ll come to life and strangle me in my bed, it doesn’t belong in my house.
All that stuff alone is worth what I paid for the whole lot, but then she added the holy grail by having not one, but two double tiered lampshades for sale. The second one she gave me for free. With the lamp attached. She didn’t want to sell it because it needed restringing on one side, but 5 minutes total work in front of the TV will fix that. She gave me a few items for free because I bought so much stuff; also, I think, just because I was so knocked out by everything.
Also free was the little horse statue that I looked at and then put back. The lady was nice enough to throw it in gratis, just because I liked it. Of course, because she did that, I bought an additional whale planter, crescent shaped candy dish, and 4 pieces of vintage jewelry. So maybe she's smarter than me. No, scratch that, she's definitely smarter than me.
But near and dear to my heart was the final purchase: a little vintage sewing basket with all kinds of antique notions inside, including some beautiful 1920's era needle cases. I love all kinds of vintage sewing gear, especially if it has the packaging intact. Some people collect baseball cards, but I'm not much for sports. I'm much happier risking tetanus with sharpened vintage steel.
So where does fate come in, you ask? Well, I was originally supposed to meet Kate on Monday at Cooperella Cafe, but due to my famously unreliable memory, I missed it until it was well over. When I rescheduled for Friday, I forgot that most places would be closed for July 4th, including--you guessed it--Cooperella. Kate was gracious enough to invite me, my erstwhile hubby, and our whirling dervish of a son into her adorable house, which happened to be across the way from this sale, and which she just happened to know about even though it wasn't officially open yet.
For anyone besides me who loves midcentury modern, slightly tacky antiques, you'll understand that having that many things in one place for THAT cheap takes an act of god, or several gods, for that matter. So score one for the big guy. I'm sure he's much more interested in this than the Superbowl anyway. ;)
6/29/08
None of my Exes live in Texas
Stolen from Kristina's blog--I love to reminisce.
EXES SURVEY
Have you had many exes?
Not as many as some, more than others. If I had to guess, I'd say about 10.
Did any of your ex’s have pet names for you when you dated?
I'm sure they did, but I certainly don't remember back that far.
Did you ever re-date an ex?
Once they're officially an ex, no. No point in burning yourself on the same stove twice. If we played around in a grey area, maybe, but I'm not usually a very grey person in relationships.
If yes, how did that work out?
It was a waste of my time, but I don't think I'd appreciate my husband as much if I han't gone through it.
Do you have any ex’s you wish you would have been friends with instead of dated?
Not really. I tended to date people I didn't necessarily want to be friends with. It was mostly about physical attraction for me, and once the relationship ended, my physical attraction ended as well. I have no hard feelings toward them, but we wouldn't have been good friends even if we hadn't dated.
Do you have any regrets about an ex?
I don't regret anything I've ever done.
Do you do the breaking up or do the ex’s do the leaving?
I was usually too chickenshit to break up with people, so I instead became unbearable so they'd leave. That way I didn't have to deal with them anymore, but I didn't have to feel guilty, either.
If you could completely remove all trace of an ex from your life, would you?
Nah. I barely remember dating anyone other than Eddie anyway.
What is a good memory you have of an ex?
My memory isn't my strong point. Probably just going to shows, hanging out, that sort of thing. I can't remember too much specifically.
Were any of your ex’s the jealous type?
One was, but he was smart enough not to be so to my face. I don't like people who are too clingy. If I'm with someone, I'm with them and no one else. I don't like people enough to bother cheating.
Has an ex stalked you after the break up?
Not an ex, but I did have an acquaintance fall in love with me and not take "fuck, no" for an answer. He used to try to deliver flowers to me, leave me gifts and shit. I threw them all away and told him to leave me alone. He was really creepy.
Did you ever have an ex steal from you? What did they take?
One ex stole my writing and used it to write a letter to his other girlfriend (who I didn't know about.) This same ex gave me stolen merchandise for my birthday. He was quite a catch. ;)
What was the creepiest thing an ex has done after you broke up?
Other than trying to come back to me, nothing.
Do you have any ex’s that you wish you would have married?
Oh good god, no. What a horrifying thought.
Are you friends with your ex’s?
I wouldn't say we hang out much, but I have nothing against most of them. Even the ones I dislike I wouldn't fight with. I barely have time for my own family; I'm not going to waste it on exes.
Will any of your ex’s read this?
I doubt it, but what do I know?
EXES SURVEY
Have you had many exes?
Not as many as some, more than others. If I had to guess, I'd say about 10.
Did any of your ex’s have pet names for you when you dated?
I'm sure they did, but I certainly don't remember back that far.
Did you ever re-date an ex?
Once they're officially an ex, no. No point in burning yourself on the same stove twice. If we played around in a grey area, maybe, but I'm not usually a very grey person in relationships.
If yes, how did that work out?
It was a waste of my time, but I don't think I'd appreciate my husband as much if I han't gone through it.
Do you have any ex’s you wish you would have been friends with instead of dated?
Not really. I tended to date people I didn't necessarily want to be friends with. It was mostly about physical attraction for me, and once the relationship ended, my physical attraction ended as well. I have no hard feelings toward them, but we wouldn't have been good friends even if we hadn't dated.
Do you have any regrets about an ex?
I don't regret anything I've ever done.
Do you do the breaking up or do the ex’s do the leaving?
I was usually too chickenshit to break up with people, so I instead became unbearable so they'd leave. That way I didn't have to deal with them anymore, but I didn't have to feel guilty, either.
If you could completely remove all trace of an ex from your life, would you?
Nah. I barely remember dating anyone other than Eddie anyway.
What is a good memory you have of an ex?
My memory isn't my strong point. Probably just going to shows, hanging out, that sort of thing. I can't remember too much specifically.
Were any of your ex’s the jealous type?
One was, but he was smart enough not to be so to my face. I don't like people who are too clingy. If I'm with someone, I'm with them and no one else. I don't like people enough to bother cheating.
Has an ex stalked you after the break up?
Not an ex, but I did have an acquaintance fall in love with me and not take "fuck, no" for an answer. He used to try to deliver flowers to me, leave me gifts and shit. I threw them all away and told him to leave me alone. He was really creepy.
Did you ever have an ex steal from you? What did they take?
One ex stole my writing and used it to write a letter to his other girlfriend (who I didn't know about.) This same ex gave me stolen merchandise for my birthday. He was quite a catch. ;)
What was the creepiest thing an ex has done after you broke up?
Other than trying to come back to me, nothing.
Do you have any ex’s that you wish you would have married?
Oh good god, no. What a horrifying thought.
Are you friends with your ex’s?
I wouldn't say we hang out much, but I have nothing against most of them. Even the ones I dislike I wouldn't fight with. I barely have time for my own family; I'm not going to waste it on exes.
Will any of your ex’s read this?
I doubt it, but what do I know?
Someday my House will be Clean
Sometimes my house makes me so depressed, because it's old, and has been housing a packrat(me), a slob(my husband), and a tornado(my son). It needs so much work, but because of the aforementioned inhabitants, we have no time or room in which to do it. I have a long list of things I'm planning, but I'm afraid it won't happen until the kid's in school every day. So we're shooting for 2011, which seems far away but in reality will probably disappear before I have time to notice. Lack of sleep does that to you.
So here are the things I'd like to do, should time suddenly stop for everyone but me and make finding a free moment no longer a problem:
1.paint my front room a pretty coral peach with a deeper coral accent wall.
2.paint my dining room a lovely shade of 1940's mint green that's a touch yellower than what most people think of mint.
3.Paint the attached kitchen a lovely 1950's shade of buttery yellow and accenting it with black, red, deep green, and mint green accents. The cabinets will stay white, and the appliances will all get a much needed deep scrubbing.
4.paint the baby's room a lovely muted aquamarine blue with a mural of pirates, robots, dinosaurs and monkeys on one wall. Preferably before he enters high school.
5.paint our room a nice bordello off-red to complement our rose red/black/yellow silk/leopard print colour scheme (It's not as gaudy as it sounds-or maybe it is. I'm probably not the best judge).
6.PULL UP THIS GODAWFUL AVOCADO GREEN CARPET!!! We have hardwood floors beneath. Know how I know? There are holes in the carpet. Big holes that look like someone's been snacking on it. The carpet is literally older than I am, and the colour is the visual representation of airsickedness.
7.putting up all our accumulated 1950's-1960's knicknacks in Target-bought shadow boxes and shelves so we have some actual horizontal space in the house.
8.hanging our paintings so we have a nice assortment of our artwork on display, instead of housing it all in the basement where it floods.
9.replacing furniture that's been wrecked by toddler hands with reasonably nice vintage pieces. Blonde wood, mostly, which is how I like my furniture but not my men.
10.building a stone patio in the back yard. Why hire a contractor when you can injure your own fingers, toes and back?
11.building a koi pond in the back yard (mostly that's my husband's gig--I'm not as big on digging holes in the lawn).
12.finishing the basement, and putting a tiki bar/home office/workshop in place of the multitudes of boxed up junk that resides there now.
The house in my head is so lovely, and so much better than what I see around me now, which is a mixture of Armageddon, Beirut, The day after Spring Break in Daytona, and Crayola carnage. Hopefully someday I'll get a little closer to it in real life. Toddlerdom can't last forever, can it? :)
So here are the things I'd like to do, should time suddenly stop for everyone but me and make finding a free moment no longer a problem:
1.paint my front room a pretty coral peach with a deeper coral accent wall.
2.paint my dining room a lovely shade of 1940's mint green that's a touch yellower than what most people think of mint.
3.Paint the attached kitchen a lovely 1950's shade of buttery yellow and accenting it with black, red, deep green, and mint green accents. The cabinets will stay white, and the appliances will all get a much needed deep scrubbing.
4.paint the baby's room a lovely muted aquamarine blue with a mural of pirates, robots, dinosaurs and monkeys on one wall. Preferably before he enters high school.
5.paint our room a nice bordello off-red to complement our rose red/black/yellow silk/leopard print colour scheme (It's not as gaudy as it sounds-or maybe it is. I'm probably not the best judge).
6.PULL UP THIS GODAWFUL AVOCADO GREEN CARPET!!! We have hardwood floors beneath. Know how I know? There are holes in the carpet. Big holes that look like someone's been snacking on it. The carpet is literally older than I am, and the colour is the visual representation of airsickedness.
7.putting up all our accumulated 1950's-1960's knicknacks in Target-bought shadow boxes and shelves so we have some actual horizontal space in the house.
8.hanging our paintings so we have a nice assortment of our artwork on display, instead of housing it all in the basement where it floods.
9.replacing furniture that's been wrecked by toddler hands with reasonably nice vintage pieces. Blonde wood, mostly, which is how I like my furniture but not my men.
10.building a stone patio in the back yard. Why hire a contractor when you can injure your own fingers, toes and back?
11.building a koi pond in the back yard (mostly that's my husband's gig--I'm not as big on digging holes in the lawn).
12.finishing the basement, and putting a tiki bar/home office/workshop in place of the multitudes of boxed up junk that resides there now.
The house in my head is so lovely, and so much better than what I see around me now, which is a mixture of Armageddon, Beirut, The day after Spring Break in Daytona, and Crayola carnage. Hopefully someday I'll get a little closer to it in real life. Toddlerdom can't last forever, can it? :)
6/26/08
My new obsession
Okay, so we got our "Please don't hate me on my way out" government bribe money, so I ran out and got a laptop. This is the first computer I've ever owned that's all mine. I love it I love it I love it. No dirty finger swipes, no crumbs in the keyboard, no giant computer game files that magically appear on the hard drive every time I turn around. It's a midnight blue Toshiba something-or-other, and it's worth every penny. Now I'm not stuck to my desk at home when I want to update my blog or put new items on my Etsy site!
Now I'll have a keyboard readily at hand for all those times when I'm on the road and inspiration strikes. Well maybe not on the road, exactly. Wouldn't want to make our nation's highways any more dangerous than they already are.
That said, I'm still pissed at Bush, and I still think he's the worst president the country's ever had. Even Nixon was better than this. Bush can give me a house, a Vespa, a solid gold Ipod, shine my shoes and my windows, walk my dog every day for the rest of his life, balance my checkbook and send out all our Xmas thank you cards, and I still wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire.
Now I'll have a keyboard readily at hand for all those times when I'm on the road and inspiration strikes. Well maybe not on the road, exactly. Wouldn't want to make our nation's highways any more dangerous than they already are.
That said, I'm still pissed at Bush, and I still think he's the worst president the country's ever had. Even Nixon was better than this. Bush can give me a house, a Vespa, a solid gold Ipod, shine my shoes and my windows, walk my dog every day for the rest of his life, balance my checkbook and send out all our Xmas thank you cards, and I still wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire.
6/23/08
MYSLART scam
Warning to anyone contacted for MYSLART
Because the arts/crafts community is so small, there's a good possibility that if you are an artist, you might have been contacted about a new online community called MYSLART. It's billed itself as a 'MySpace for artists' page. It's run by Don Erickson, the same guy who stuck 40 vendors in a glass and garbage strewn parking lot and pocketed $90 this June. He also runs the Art Coop, which bills itself as a non-profit despite being shut down in a previous venture for not filing the revenue paperwork necessary to maintain non-profit status.
As artists, we have to protect each other. I was burned by Don so you don't have to be.
:)
Because the arts/crafts community is so small, there's a good possibility that if you are an artist, you might have been contacted about a new online community called MYSLART. It's billed itself as a 'MySpace for artists' page. It's run by Don Erickson, the same guy who stuck 40 vendors in a glass and garbage strewn parking lot and pocketed $90 this June. He also runs the Art Coop, which bills itself as a non-profit despite being shut down in a previous venture for not filing the revenue paperwork necessary to maintain non-profit status.
As artists, we have to protect each other. I was burned by Don so you don't have to be.
:)
6/7/08
Warning for Crafters/Artists!!
Well, I'm back after a useless day at OLTA, and I have a warning for any St. Louis artisans or crafters who may be contacted by Don Erickson or Art Coop in the future. OLTA's outside booths took place in a back parking lot behind a building--invisible from the street, and complete with an overflowing malodorous dumpster on the booth site. There were no signs, no street traffic, no promotion whatsoever. The only way to OLTA's 'fair' was a slummy alleyway strewn with overgrown weeds and broken glass. The earliest vendors had to actually clean drywall off the lot when they arrived, and ended up not being able to use half the space they cleared because of black mold.
The only street promotion visible were some yellow chalk arrows hastily drawn on the sidewalk. Last I checked, yellow chalk and broken glass didn't cost $90 per vendor. Don claims to have spent $800 promoting this event, yet he can't produce even one concrete instance of actual advertising.
Don't get me wrong, I've vended booths where I haven't made money. This isn't simply sour grapes on my part. But I've done a lot of these events and this is above and beyond simple bad luck. This is neglect bordering on consumer fraud.
From all appearances, this is a case where someone spent almost no money and simply expected to pocket all of it for handing out booth space without promoting the event or even cleaning up the parking lot where it was to be held. The stench from the dumpster was disgusting. Equally deplorable is the fact that several vendors made a trek from Chicago and Kansas City who are now out not only $45 of their $90 booth fee (he agreed to refund half our fees, although I'll believe it when I see it.) but their gas and time as well.
The fair didn't get one client. Not one. Had we gotten lookers but no buyers, I'd chalk it up to a bad economy, but we didn't get any lookers. Schlafly wasted beer serving no one, Mangia Italiano wasted food serving no one, bands played to no one in a hot parking lot. Several vendors mentioned having a similar experience with him during previous events, so I'd say he's making a habit of it.
For that reason, I have to put this out and warn everyone who might likewise be swindled by him. Tell your friends, tell your blogs, tell any crafty forums you're a member of. Crafters put too much money and time into their wares, they deserve not to be taken advantage of.
The only street promotion visible were some yellow chalk arrows hastily drawn on the sidewalk. Last I checked, yellow chalk and broken glass didn't cost $90 per vendor. Don claims to have spent $800 promoting this event, yet he can't produce even one concrete instance of actual advertising.
Don't get me wrong, I've vended booths where I haven't made money. This isn't simply sour grapes on my part. But I've done a lot of these events and this is above and beyond simple bad luck. This is neglect bordering on consumer fraud.
From all appearances, this is a case where someone spent almost no money and simply expected to pocket all of it for handing out booth space without promoting the event or even cleaning up the parking lot where it was to be held. The stench from the dumpster was disgusting. Equally deplorable is the fact that several vendors made a trek from Chicago and Kansas City who are now out not only $45 of their $90 booth fee (he agreed to refund half our fees, although I'll believe it when I see it.) but their gas and time as well.
The fair didn't get one client. Not one. Had we gotten lookers but no buyers, I'd chalk it up to a bad economy, but we didn't get any lookers. Schlafly wasted beer serving no one, Mangia Italiano wasted food serving no one, bands played to no one in a hot parking lot. Several vendors mentioned having a similar experience with him during previous events, so I'd say he's making a habit of it.
For that reason, I have to put this out and warn everyone who might likewise be swindled by him. Tell your friends, tell your blogs, tell any crafty forums you're a member of. Crafters put too much money and time into their wares, they deserve not to be taken advantage of.
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