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The Giraffe Resolution

Thu, 30 Apr 2009 05:09:45 -0400

9 Counts of Assault in the First Degree with a Neck Pillow

Tonight at work, a coworker went to empty the lavatory on one of our planes. He hooked up the hose, gave it a good tug, flipped the switch, and jumped back in case the tug hadn't been enough to expose a hidden weakness in the connection. Then, something strange happened...

Nothing.

No greenish cascades of poo-brine. No plopping murky foam. No nothing.

We were suddenly in the midst of the second most dreadful scenario possible when dealing with removing human waste from an aircraft (the first being when the plane opens up its bowels freely into a hose that wasn't properly connected) -- the pin was pulled, the grenade was thrown, but there was no explosion.

Everyone stood frozen and eyed everyone else.

Are you sure you pulled the pin?

Which direction did you throw it?

Do we go looking for it or just run?

You threw it. You go check it out.

All eyes simultaneously turned to the poor sap who had drawn the short straw and gotten stuck on lavs tonight. He approached the hose as if trying to sneak up on it and inspected it as if expecting a bomb to go off in his face. He unflipped and reflipped the switch several times. No explosion.

He breathed a sigh of relief, and all the onlookers hoping for a casualty lost interest and wandered off. Maintenance was called. We all assumed it had frozen and didn't pay it much attention until...

The mechanic pulled out the first neck pillow.

Not one of the inflatable ones -- a full-fledged plush neck pillow, bloated and dripping excrement.

Then the second one.

And another. Another.

Until he had removed 9 neck pillows sopping in shit and piss and blue juice.

Now, let's analyze this:

1) The cost of 9 plush neck pillows is no small change. This was an investment. Even the cheapest plush neck pillows run upwards of $13 a pop. If the perpetrator bought them online, there was most likely a shipping fee tacked onto that. For the sake of argument and giving folks the benefit of the doubt, let's assume these were the most inexpensive neck pillows and that the perpetrator bought them at a 'brick and mortar' store or got free shipping online. That's still about $120 down the toilet.

Yeah, I said it.

2) This was premeditated. No one just carries around 9 neck pillows. In order to check in on time, having already procured the neck pillows and somehow shoved them into a bag the size of the miniature carry-ons that will fit in the overhead bin of a small commuter plane, one would have had to plan at least several hours in advance. More likely, it was days or, in the case of having bought the neck pillows online, weeks before the flight that the perpetrator began planning this attack.

3) Somehow, this passenger managed to get 9 neck pillows on board a plane without drawing attention. This, in and of itself, is pretty impressive. However, getting all 9 of those neck pillows down the aisle and into the restroom unnoticed makes me question the observation skills of our crew members and other passengers.

4) Then, getting all 9 of those neck pillows to go down the toilet had to have taken a while and gotten pretty messy.

5) Finally, I cannot think of any problem in which the most logical available solution would involve shoving 9 neck pillows down the shitter of a commercial prop(eller) jet.

The only thing that would make any sense is that it was a giraffe. Giraffes are terrorists.

fuck you and your untouchable face

Sat, 07 Mar 2009 01:10:53 -0500

Once, I when was painting my living room, I tried to spray off the paint roller I was holding with the hose on full blast -- not thinking about the consequences until the split second before the sidewalk, the side of my house, my bushes, and I got covered in bright red paint. I laughed so hard, I cried. Then I had one hell of a mess to clean up.

Life has been kind of like that lately.

I am learning to play poker.

I have a crush on a pilot at work.

I paid off and brought home my bike.

I am backed up on orders even though I've been turning most of them down.

I love my friends and need to spend more time with them.

I gave back all the extra shifts I picked up at work lately.

I really hate the new season of The L-Word.

Several of my blood tests came back with abnormal results.

I'm always exhausted, always busy, always stressed, and always finding reasons to smile.

bicycles & birthdays

Mon, 19 Jan 2009 05:35:00 -0500

My birthday is on Thursday.

Tuesday, I'm going to San Francisco with my mom to eat Indian food at my favorite place for lunch and pick up some more Tung Ting oolong tea from Red Blossom. Wednesday, I'm going out for Ethiopian with my friends on our quest to find the best local Ethiopian restaurant and Thursday, I'm going for a long ride with a friend from work on his motorcycle. The weather has been beautiful this week. Wednesday is supposed to be 70 degrees, which is a record high for this time of year.

As a birthday present to myself, I'm putting down a deposit on this:

After picking up some extra shifts over the next few months, I'll be able to finish paying it off.

I also bought myself some things from BPAL and some clothes from Japan. I hope they fit!

And I want this Mothman Versus Flatwoods Monster set, some video games, and a green parasol, but those will have to wait for now.

Everyone needs something to look forward to.

osaka sun

Mon, 22 Dec 2008 03:41:47 -0500

Having a 'crush' is an accurate term for the experience. Don't you think?

I'm enjoying the rollercoaster ride of being human. Maybe 'enjoying' isn't the right word. But when I think about it -- the agony and the giddiness and the excitement and the nervousness and the anticipation of it all -- I can't help but smile. It's not always fun. But it sure is interesting.

I got injured at work a few weeks ago and have been put on light duty, which, because of the physical nature of my job, has me doing something completely different and completely, utterly draining. I knew my job was badass, but I never realised just how much I loved it until I was no longer allowed to do it.

I had no idea how much it was wearing on me until last night, after a particularly challenging day, when I hitched a ride on a coworker's tug down to the bag room. In that moment -- under the cloudy moonlit sky, the bitter cold wind stinging my face, the scent of jet fuel in my lungs -- the feeling of absolute freedom, combined with the knowledge that it was going to be all too brief, welled up and over.

We were back inside before the tears had a chance to freeze.

Beyond the East the sunrise,
Beyond the West the sea,
And East and West the wander-thirst that will not let me be...

~Gerald Gould~

championships & cider & campfires

Sat, 18 Oct 2008 03:32:16 -0400

First thing's first.

I was the winner of last week's Etsy Challenge for the photography section with my photo, Upward Spiral, and am now in the weekly winners championship or something equally as prestigious-sounding. In short, I'm competing against the winners of all of the sections last week. The winner doesn't actually win anything except recognition, but I'm quite happy with that. I'm barely staying on top and could use your help.

You don't have to register for or sign up for or be a member of anything. You simply click here, scroll down to the slide show and voting box, click the bubble next to 'Upward Spiral', and click 'vote'. I think the voting stops Monday.

Go now. I'll wait.

The onset of autumn is a magical time of year for me. Summer always leaves me in a sluggish stupor, and autumn's biting night air pierces my clothing and stings my skin -- reminding me, for at least a moment, that I am alive.

It's the same reason I like the smell of exhaust or the prick of a tattoo needle or the squish of mud under my shoes while tromping through a pumpkin patch to get the pumpkin no one else wants. All those things shock me into becoming aware of myself and my surroundings. And myself in my surroundings.

Last week, I was fortunate enough to snag one such unwanted pumpkin. My friends Rick, Scott, and Jesse and I met up at a local autumn festival, complete with cider, hay rides, campfires, bluegrass band, and a pumpkin patch. We only saw the pumpkin patch part of it by way of a couple of campfires because it was foggy and frigid and we didn't get there until it was closing, but it was worth it. Scott managed to find a pumpkin so large that it was specially marked at $2 above the price for 'extra super large' pumpkins. I could have fit at least 6 of my heads in there. If I had 6 heads. And even though I have several of my own pumpkins in my garden, I became instantly very attached to a small, collapsed little pumpkin covered in mud. Scott bought it for me, and I named it Earl.

Earl is now perched on a shelf above my bed. Once I'm finished with all my custom orders, I'm going to make Earl a scarf and a hat.

Despite Earl's awkwardness, he balances very well, which is a very important quality as his post is right above my head while I'm sleeping. Since these photos, he has turned more orange but still has not lost his veiny charm.

And, finally, my friend who owns Mayhem Arts, a shop selling her photography and handmade malas, which are like rosaries for yoginis, has 'tagged' me (whoa, could I have fit more commas in there?). And I hate her for it. But because she is my friend, I'll post the 7 facts about me. However, I refuse to 'tag' other people and force this upon them. This is my compromise.

1) If I have to breathe hot air, I get claustrophobic and mean. This means no hiding under blankets, no laying with my face too close to my arm (or anyone else's arm or other body parts), and no riding in cars that blast hot air from the main vents. Not even in winter. I will roll the window down and freeze your ass out until you turn it to the floor vents at a more moderate temperature.

2) I have never been to a corn maze. But I intend to rectify that this year.

3) I can, and have, eaten a whole container of hummus in one sitting. My current favorite brand is Sabra, and I've dropped a lot of cash on them over the last few weeks because I've forgotten how to make my own. Does anyone have a good hummus recipe?

4) I never wear underwear. On a related note, I hate the word 'panties'. And 'pussy'. Ew.

5) I never owned any belts as an adult until about 3 weeks ago. Now I have at least a dozen. The same thing can be said if you substitute 'scarves' for 'belts'.

6) When I was a child, I wanted to be a vampire or a hitman when I grew up. This got me sent to the school counselor, who would come and get me off the playground during my lunch recess to talk about this and other things -- like my crush on one of my classmates' moms.

7) I can't stand getting dirt or food under my fingernails but love the feeling of skin underneath my nails.

What are 7 interesting things about yourself?

Also, check out my shop for winter ninja gear and festive amigurumi sperm!

sesamoids & suburbia & serendipity & sperm

Thu, 28 Aug 2008 03:54:29 -0400

I hate writing blogs -- especially ones like this because everything that has happened since I last wrote is so closely tied into...itself, really...that it's not suited to a linear medium such as this. I'd like to just barf it onto the screen and let you sort through it. But the more I keep stalling, the bigger this spinning ball of intertwined events becomes, making the likelihood of another update smaller and smaller.

To complicate matters further, I'm currently talking with my friend about her leaving her husband and running off with me as soon as he kicks it and leaves behind his small fortune. So, I'm distracted.

I suppose I'll start where I left off. A quick recap in case you can't be bothered to scroll down and read my last blog:

I had just felt the impact of not trusting my gut yet again and vowed to listen to my instincts next time.

Without going into too much detail, things at my yoga studio weren't working out anymore. Instead of leaving and finding a different studio despite by whole being screaming at me to leave, I tried sticking it out. It came to an explosive head in the second week of July, and I was told I didn't fit in with the superficial upper class suburbanite aesthetic.

Later that week, I sprained my ankle and fractured the sesamoid bones in my foot stepping off my bed, bringing my search for a new studio to a halt.

Less than three weeks later, still incapacitated by my injury, a friend forwarded me an email from the studio. The studio owner, the same woman who had brought the practice that had been my lifebreath to an abrupt standstill, had rubbed the new landlord the wrong way, and he had given her 30 days to vacate the premises.

Now, the studio is a few days away from closing, my foot is nearing the end of its healing period, and my credit card wasn't charged for autorenewal for two months of yoga classes I wouldn't have been able to attend.

I'm quite pleased with how that worked out.

Other than that, I've been keeping busy with some custom orders for ninja gear and squids. I've also started crocheting sperm.

Strange personal fact:

I put on my perfume right after I shower, even though it's usually before bed, because I just don't feel like me unless I'm wearing it.

pride & predjudice

Sat, 12 Jul 2008 04:38:39 -0400

Today, the Universe stopped waiting on me to do what I've known I needed to do for months and went ahead and did it for me. It's a good thing. It's just hard to see that right now. My pride is hurt. I should have been the one to make that decision.

Why is it that, no matter how loudly that little voice in the back of my head screams at me that something isn't right, I give other people the benefit of the doubt at my expense? It's the spiritual equivalent of calling myself stupid for saying I'm going to get run over and then shoving myself into oncoming traffic. Time and time again. And every time, I look at myself -- broken and bloodied -- and promise I'll listen the next time.

So why don't I? And why don't I realise I'm breaking my own promise to myself until it's too late? I wouldn't let anyone else get away with doing that to me.

I'm not promising that next time I'll get it right because no longer trust myself to do as I say. But I am promising that I will do my damnedest to surrender to the reality that I -- the proud I, the controlling I, the reneging I -- am not always right.

etsy & entropy

Mon, 23 Jun 2008 18:20:36 -0400

I need to take photos of all my completed items. I know this. And yet, it never happens.

I have a collaborative project underway with tapebubba. It's exciting, and I hope it's the kick in pants I need to get my ass in gear again.

But the pull of summer & yoga & festivals & friends is far greater than my calling to be responsible. Or to blog. So before I get wrapped up in perfecting ashtavakrasana or sipping tea on the patio or sprinkling ladybugs in the garden, I better give you this long overdue spotlight of one of my favorite shops on Etsy, PlaiderPillar.

I first fell in love with PlaiderPillar when I haphazardly came across Max, the most wonderful bedtime cuddler and yoga buddy. Observe.

From the moment I saw him, I knew he'd be mine. And now he is. He does outshine me in the flexibility part of yoga, but I have a spine and he has a piece of elastic, so it's not really fair for me to compare myself to him.

I beat him at arm balances, though.

Also, the owner of PlaiderPillar is a doll and such a pleasure to work with. I'm tempted to join a pilates class just so I could walk in with this yoga ball:

Something about him just screams 'work out' to me.

Visit her shop and tell her Freeze-Dried Evil sent you!

sarcoma & socktopuses

Sat, 31 May 2008 04:20:35 -0400

Exhausted.

I like being exhausted. Only once or twice a year do I get tired enough to feel like, if I relaxed completely, I would turn into a happy, warm, fuzzy little puddle.

Don't get me wrong -- I'm pretty much always sleepy, groggy, or tired to a certain degree, but not the kind where it feels good. I think if I went to bed, I'd be out in seconds. But then I'd be awake at 4 in the morning. And while that's common for me, it's always near the end of my day and not at the very beginning. Awakening to the pitch black would be very discouraging.

So what got me so wonderfully and completely pooped? Today, I planted about 40 plants in the garden. Tomorrow, I'm going to plant about 20 more plus sew several rows of seeds all before the projected afternoon rainstorm. I have about 20 tomato plants of about 10 different varieties, 2 different pumpkins -- one baking and one carving, strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, several different kinds of peppers/chilies, cucumbers, 2 varieties of carrots, potatoes, okra, kohlrabi, cabbage, several different lettuces, rocket/arugula, two different beans, two different peas, a large variety of herbs, 3 different squashes, gourds, green onions, white onions, and probably a few other things I've forgotten.

Inside, I've started some luffa 'sponges', microgreens, and cantaloupe. Once they germinate, the luffas and cantaloupe will be moved outside.

This shit better grow.

I'm supposed to visit my friend, Kristi, in the hospital tonight, but I'm too tired to move, much less drive. She had surgery to remove a baseball-sized tumor from her kidney about a month ago, and while they were doing a scan, they discovered that she has lung cancer. She's never smoked. They removed a 9cm by 6 cm wedge of lung with the cancer and did tests that concluded that's not the primary source of the cancer. Neither was the tumor on her kidney. It's pretty scary.

In other news, I have some special (yes, that kind of special) handpainted unicorns that will be starring in a video I'm making. It's very exciting. But only sort of.

Other than that, I've been making a bunch of stuff but not listing it. I have an extreme aversion to taking product photos right now. This is only magnified by my lack of a photo box. I have all the materials with which to make one, but if I make it, then my one (lame) excuse to not take any product photos will be gone. Here are a couple things:

sock whale

socktopus

But I probably won't be selling either of those two.

Speaking of photos, if you ordered a print to help pay for Kristin's Leukemia fund, I have your prints here and am working out a way to ship them. I ordered a size larger than I normally do -- 11x14 instead of 8x12 -- and they don't fit in my envelopes. No suggestions, please. I'm on it. Please be patient.

I sent the check, which came to $115, to her along with some stuff some of my friends on Etsy and I made her. I hope it gets there soon. Thanks to everyone who contributed!

On that note, if you pray, please pray for my friends, Kristin and Kristi. If you don't, please send them good thoughts. Things are pretty scary for both of them right now, and they could use a little nudge to the universe to give them a break.

Ew. I just accidentally microwaved my lettuce.

Everything BPAL

Sat, 12 Apr 2008 21:02:00 -0400

Revised BPAL Wishlist

Alecto *
Anactoria *
The Antikythera Mechanism
Antonio, The Carny Talker
Azathoth *
Bad Luck Woman Blues
Baron Samedi
Black Ice
Black Pearl
Black Phoenix*
Blood
Blood Countess*
Bloodlust
Bruised Violet Compound
Brisingamen
Czernobog
Death Adder
Death on a Pale Horse
Dragon's Heart *
Garden Path with Chickens*
Glowing Vulva*
Golden Priapus
Hay Moon*
Hexennacht*
Horreur Sympathique*
Intruigue
Jack
Jester
Mata Hari
Men Ringing Bells*
Mister Jaquel*
Mock Turtle's Lessons
Muse
Obatala*
Pumpkin I, II, and IV
Queen of Sheba
Red Queen*
Sacred Whore of Babylon*
Samhain
Santa Muerta
Satan and Death With Sin Intervening
Silk Road*
Sea of Glass
Sloth
Snake Charmer *
Snow White *
Spider *
Stimulating Sassafras Strengthener
Strangler Fig
The Tell-Tale Heart
Tiki Queen*
Tiki King
Tintagel
Troll
Tweedledee
Tweedledum
Undertow *
Usher
Wulric, the Wolfman
Yggdrasil *

* scents I really, really, really, really want

Bottles To Buy:

Snake Oil
Voodoo
Mr. Jacquel
Spider
Blade of Grass
Mme. Moriarty (x2)
The Organ Grinder
The Wild Men

Imps To Buy:

Al Azif
Vechernyaya
Tombstone

My Bottles:

Love Me +
Mr. Nancy +
Mme. Moriarty (x3)
Organ Grinder (x2)
Blade of Grass (x2)
Wild Men of Jezirat al Tennyn
White Light (TAL)
Spiritwrack (TAL)
Charisma (TAL)
Lionheart (TAL)
Wealthy Business (TAL)
Dixie Love Perfume (TAL)
Nocturn (TAL)
Anthelion (TAL)

My Imps:

Amsterdam +
Antique Lace +
Black Lotus
Blood Kiss +
Cockaigne
Dormouse +
Eden
Hell's Belle
High John the Conqueror +
Morocco +
Mouse's Long and Sad Tale +
Music of Erich Zahn
New Orleans x2 (one aged, one new) x
Perversion +
Serpent's Kiss x
Snake Oil x2 (one aged, one new) +
The Temptation +
The Unicorn +
Voodoo +
White Rabbit +

+ scents I'm keeping
x scents I'm not keeping

Scents I Don't Like:

Bewitched
Scherezade (?)
Whitechapel
Wings of Azrael
Velvet
Hemlock
Carnal
Suspiro
Whip
Lolita
Lucy's Kiss
Athens
Haunted
Bastet
Lady Una
Gomorrah
Bordello
Pele
Event Horizon
Dragon's Milk
Hellcat
Love's Torments
Lyonesse
O
Bathsheba
Debauchery
Bon Vivant
Ashlultum
Dionysia
Arachnina
Hurricane
Nuit
Endymion
Wolf's Heart
Sudha Segara
Two, Five, and Seven
Shoggoth
Severin
Serpent's Kiss
Dana O'Shee
Bordello
Black Opal
Aizen Myoo
Blood Rose
Tzadikim Nistarim
Ouija
Goblin
Roadhouse
Cheshire Cat
Poisoned Apple
Shanghai (?)
Embalming Fluid (?)
The Lion (?)
Pool of Tears
Queen of Hearts
Kill-Devil
Red Devil
Lady MacBeth

ages & idols

Sat, 12 Apr 2008 17:52:00 -0400

I'm not sure how I got roped into watching American Idol this season. Usually, I watch until auditions are over and then get bored. This year is no exception, but I'm watching it anyway. I blame the writers' strike.

A couple weeks ago, I was watching an episode where they sang songs that came out the year they were born. Each contestant talked about the year they were born with their age displayed underneath their name as they spoke. I, at the ripe old age of 28, was comparing my numbers to those of the young'uns when I discovered a discrepancy. How were those born 5 years after me 7 years younger than me?

After a few House of Leaves inspired moments of doing and redoing the math, I came to the most startling realisation -- I'm not 28.

I'm 26.

short & sweet

Wed, 26 Mar 2008 23:43:31 -0400

Welcome to my first functional website! After years of trying to work with others to get something set up but never quite making it, a friend recommended this DIY site to me. A few minutes later, I was registered and ready to start making my site!

Please be patient while I get everything set up; I'm clueless in the technical department and begrudging in the trying-to-sell-myself-in-a-blurb department. So in the meantime, feel free to bookmark me here and check out my shop at freezedriedevil.etsy.com and my blog at http://www.myspace.com/freezedriedevil.

That takes care of the 'short' part, so on to the 'sweet' part. Meet Ernie. He's a wee little cat that I just finished making a couple days ago:

tung ting & tazers & TMI

Thu, 20 Mar 2008 04:59:00 -0400

This evening was peaceful. I went to yoga and walked out after class just in time to see the sunset. I’ve been focusing on chest opening poses because it really helps my back and my overall mood. I’m much more motivated when I don’t feel like I’m being tazered.

The weather today was beautiful. I left to go to yoga in layers and quickly peeled those off. The breeze was just cool enough to keep my skin entertained, and it’s great being able to wear whatever shoes I want without having to worry about getting them muddy or having to walk through knee-deep snow in them. I like winter just fine, and I miss the snow when I’m living somewhere that doesn’t get any, but it’s not conducive to functioning. If I could have a helicopter take me wherever I needed to be and also be impervious to cold temperatures, winter would rock.

I shaved my crotch a couple nights ago. The whole shebang. It looks weird. I usually only shave underneath and then leave a bit of fluff up front, but I was in no mood to be meticulous, so I just took it all off. I can’t wait until it grows back.

Now, I’m sitting here in a tank top and underpants with the window open and the early spring night air swirling around me, drinking a cup of the most exquisitve tea I’ve ever had -- Tung Ting from the Red Blossom shop in San Francisco. I’d like to go back soon and visit my friend, Keith. I tell him I miss him a lot, but I’m not sure if he realizes how serious I am.

Another friend of mine has just been diagnosed with an aggressive form of Leukemia and has been in the hospital on intense chemotherapy treatments for the past couple of weeks. She hadn’t made it past the probationary period at her new job before she was diagnosed, so her benefits didn’t kick in. I’m selling some prints and donating 40% of the profits to her to help her out. Even if you don’t know my friend, you get a kickass print and a good chunk of the money goes towards making the life of someone who stuck with me when nearly everyone else just wanted me to hurry up and be happy again a little bit easier.

treasuries & travesties

Sun, 09 Mar 2008 05:05:00 -0400

At the end of yoga class, we lie in savasana, or 'corpse pose' -- laid out all pretty with our palms turned up and our legs neatly turned out. Well, not my legs. One of them sits perfect and pretty while the other one flops messily out to the side like a frog leg. No amount of willing it straight or trying to rotate my hips to align it correctly have made it so.

So, this got me thinking....

Corpses don't ever look like that. I've seen plenty of corpses. Yeah, I'm kind of a sicko. You know those assholes who hear about deaths caught on camera or video and hop on Google to try to find them? I'm one of them.

I used to want to die from a freefall -- the failed attempt at flight. On TV and it the movies, jumpers are seen splayed out in the street or on the hood of a car in savasana or the perfect chalk outline pose, with a dainty little trickle of blood running from the mouth.

In real life, the body bursts open. Often, the eyes pop out. More often, the intestines and brains pop out, leaving the body in a puddle of fluid that's just as yellow as it is red and is scattered with yellow and white spongy bits. Pieces of the skull are smash off and end up feet away from the rest of the body. Limbs twist and turn and bend like the bones have been removed.

And all this is what goes through my head when the wordless voices and flutes fill the dark yoga studio with thick, heavy hippy love, and everyone else is chatting with their power animals in their caves. I pretend my body has just hit the ground and exploded into a liquid mess, my broken fingers fondle my entrails and my eye watches from the pavement a couple inches from my foot. I contemplate bending my neck unnaturally, flopping my arm under my own body, and contorting my face into an expression of horror just to make the pose more accurate. Then the bell rings, signaling the end of the meditation.

Maybe next time.

While we're still on the subject of me, I made it into a treasury on Etsy today. If you click on this link, you can take a look at the Ode to Chlorophyll. My piece is the little amigurumi chicken in the lower right corner. The more you click, the more chance I have of making it to the front page. You don't even have to be an Etsy member.

Also, I take chlorophyll supplements. I hope to one day be able to make my own food by laying out in the sun.

sunsets & saints & guts & guile

Thu, 14 Feb 2008 12:07:00 -0500

As all two of my readers have probably noticed, I’ve been making some drastic changes to my page here. I did all this because 1) I needed an image overhaul. I wasn’t happy with what I started with and didn’t like the new ideas I was trying on. You may have noticed I’ve changed things around quite a bit on here as well, and 2) I’m going to a film festival this weekend with Chris Gore. I’ll be there wearing one of my hats and not much else, so hopefully, I’ll get a lot of attention. Actually, I’m only saying that because I have no idea what I’m going to wear. This uncertainty has been the cause of many of my problems lately.

It’s been snowing here, so probably should bundle up. But that’s not very dignified. In fact, I froze my ass off and got soaking wet in San Francisco because I refused to have to carry a coat, an umbrella, and a purse around at the party I was going to. Ah, vanity.

The point of that (before I started rambling) is that I needed tons of business cards to hand out and wasn’t impressed with the set I made a month ago, which I made to replace the predesigned ones I’ve been using for years. So, I spent several hours making new ones. It took a lot of printing, resizing, and fiddling around trying to get things to fit in the limited space, but I’m very proud of how it turned out. The best part is that none of the parts are permanently attached, so if I want a new look, I can just rearrange some things, snap a new photo, and print them out.

I’ve started a project called B-612 where I’m taking pictures of sunsets out the windows of airplanes. On the way home from my recent trip to San Francisco, I was lucky enough to get a window with no scrapes or scratches. About halfway through, a couple of really tiny spots of frost formed, but those were only noticeable on the photos because I was looking for them, and they were easily removed.

I once got caught it a snow storm in a mini skirt and t-shirt. I had to stop by the store before heading home, and I didn’t have a coat or even a hoodie. On the way in, a bundled up bell-ringer said, ’Aren’t you cold?’ I used to be able to walk in subzero temperatures for hours in short and a t-shirt with minimal effort. I’m out of practice now. I responded, ’If you have to ask, I must be doing something right’. Like I said -- dignity at all times. Never let them know you’re freezing your peeballs off.

cabbages & kings

Sun, 10 Feb 2008 04:10:00 -0500

I've been told that, if I want a successful business, I need to start a blog.

I really hate blogging, and I hate the word 'blog'. It makes me feel dirty -- like I just vomited something without heaving first, and now I'm left standing there in shock, my cheeks bulging out, wondering if I should spit it into the mug on the desk or in my purse or just swallow it, too surprised by it all to remember that the toilet is also an option.

A couple of days ago, I came across a picture of a green Gloworm with a nightcap in my friend's...online journal...and became instantly obsessed with getting one. I had one when I was little. He went everywhere with Blankie and me. Then the face got scuffed up, and the light stopped working. My mom donated him to the church. When I found out, I made my mom drive me down there to try to buy him back, but someone had already gotten him. Seeing the picture of the Gloworm made my heart-shaped chest wound physically ache, and suddenly I was 7 years old again, standing in front of the cluttered folding tables at the church with my allowance in hand, frantically searching for the Gloworm that had kept me safe from monsters since the day I was born.

I went to eBay to bid on one despite being in the negative because of my recent trip to San Francisco. I really should have planned that better. I put about 10 Gloworms on my watch list and was systematically outbid on all of them over the next 24 hours. I'm pretty bummed about that. All that's left now that won't cost a small fortune is one with no Glowstick and holes in the body.

I also had a Cabbage Patch doll that I named Andrew even though the birth certificate said his name was Nadine. And that he was a girl. I swore I'd be buried with that thing. Then my rat ate his face off. My mom didn't give him to the church.

I have a weird bump on my no-no parts. I'm thinking either my ex gave me syphilis or I have an ingrown. I'm going to go with syphilis for dramatic effect. When I was in high school, we learned about King Henry VIII who had syphilis, beheaded his wife, and went nuts. Too bad it's now curable with penicillin. I really wanted a medical excuse for beheading people.