Tuesday, July 31, 2007

poof that I am, indeed, a super-hero

I came to this here coffee shop to "work on" the Palindrome*, which I have been "working on" for seven months. A couple of months ago, I was about three pages into the piece (yes!) when I looked at my notes and I thought, 'this would be fun to turn into a chapbook!' Turns out I'm crazy. Writing this story/chapbook/poem is the hardest project that I've ever taken on, and I used to run cross country...and that's hard...especially when you're me.

So, the palindrome is kicking my ass, but I'm determined to turn it into something special. I'll post a picture tomorrow, or later tonight, depending on how this coffee hits me.

*the Palindrome is-----a story that I'm working on that can be read the same forward as backwards. Other palindromes include: "A man a plan, Panama." and "Racecar" and "So many dynamos!"

Self portrait wrap up!

Monday, July 30, 2007

Minnesota, Minnesota, we are south of Manitoba, we are East of North Dakota

We are something pretty rare.

Just got back from a 4-day visit to see my parents, siblings, and SPAMalot.

The drive takes about 7 hours door-to-door, especially if, like me, you don't drive often (ever) and you have no idea where the hell you're going except to go Northeast...I mean west.

this is me after a seven hour drive:

And this is what I looked like when I was 12 (clip from the family photo that hangs in the dining room). I had "bangs" back then, in the photo they're clipped with barrettes hidden by the headband...I look at this photo (the hair, the shirt, the unibrow) and I think, "what the-?":

Mom's kitchen knick-knacks (nic-naks?):

Dog #1:

Dog #2, his name is Fitz, thus named because "fitz" apparently means bastard:

I love MN:

On Saturday, my mom and I went to a fabric store (Big Sale Day!) and I bought a vogue pattern at 40% off! This is my secret/covert mission photo of the patter drawer:

Attack of the giant belt!

Naw, naw, it just cinches the dress, which used to be six inches longer until I got bored and upped the hem (side note: after being without a sewing machine for 2 years, I have found that I am much more comfortable hand-sewing hems):

This morning, before driving on the wrong road for 20 minutes and then turning around and finally driving toward home, I had breakfast with a college friend who now lives in MN. We went to Day by Day, I had a mushroom, tomato, and spinach omelet with pumpernickel toast. yum.:

I shall end with my homage to this photo (click the photo to go to his website):

Sunday, July 29, 2007

were you looking for Zooey/bangs/hair information?

Part 1: A few days ago, I wrote a short post about my hair and my want for bangs (with a promise that a future post devoted completely to bangs would one day follow...this is not that post...but it will be here soon, promise). So, anyway, it's just something that's been on my mind for fifteen years--wanting bangs.

Part 2: This here blog allows me to see how people find the blog, as in, I can see what they typed into Google to send them to this page. I have noticed that in the past several days, 30-40 people a day have found this blog searching for information on bangs. Welcome.

Part 3: The only information I have regarding bangs is that I wish, desperately that I had them and also that any man I have lost has been to a girl with bangs, therefore: damn be-banged girls.

Part 4: If you want to browse the blog, welcome (again) I can't post any pictures right now because I'm in MN visiting my parents and when I tried to plug my camera into the computer iphoto opened automatically and I was all "oh no! is it downloading all of the photos from my camera?!" because there are photos of certain boy-parts that shouldn't be downloaded onto my very Catholic parents' computer.

Part 5: I'll be home tomorrow, the bang post shall follow sometime this week.


Explosions in the Sky, "Welcome, Ghosts" (The Music Slut) - I'll post this link Monday

PS: I can't format this yet (add color, bullets, etc), will do that tomorrow.
PPS: yup, I'm drunk
PPPS: I *Really* want a cigarette, haven't had one in 3 days!

Thursday, July 26, 2007

karma? is it you?

I have always believed in karma. The kind that, um beware my grammar in this post-yikes, the kind that whatever kind of person you were in your last life dictates your fate in this life. Going along with that theory, I think I must've been a grade-A jerk in my last life. Sure, good things happen here and there, but, also, many not-so-good things. Say life is a scale from 1 to 10, 1 being starving to death in a cardboard box and 10 being Heidi Klum, I'd put myself at a solid 6.24...no, a 5,71...ish.

So, this morning at work, I gave a customer 10% off on her sunglasses, even though the sale doesn't start until next week. Then, later in the day, I was purchasing a necklace and someone had put a sale sticker on the necklace, even though I knew it wasn't on sale. When I handed it to the (cute) cashier I told him that I didn't think the sale sticker belonged on the necklace and then I shrugged like "eh, I'll get it anyway." So he rings up the total and I smile and say "thanks." (if I knew how to flirt, I would have tried to do a little of that, but, you see, anytime I try to flirt kittens cry and rainbows fade and it's really just a bad scene)

so, la-dee-dah, I go home, make some guac, drink some beer, look at the receipt, and, whattaya know!, he gave me the sale price! 50% off!

I love the necklace. I think it shall be my new good luck charm. Or shall I say good karma charm.


Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Hellooooo Lovah!

My new shoes!

A touch of brogue, a touch of crimson ribbon, a touch (3 inches) of heel, and a whole ton of pretty!

Pardon the contrast, I'm not on my own computer and had to borrow a camera to take this shot.

here's another angle:

I can't wait to pair these with stockings and skirts and leggings and every single item of clothing I own because I'm never taking them off! (Although, they are currently in the "breaking in" stage and I think I can't feel my toes anymore.)

Shoe purchase inspired by this post (I couldn't get those shoes out of my head!) and this gal.

In other news, I'm used to having 2-3 visits per day, but then I went and posted about bangs vs. curly hair and it's like $1 drink night up in here! Wild.

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

H-H-H-Hold up!

Last night I watched "Age of Love" (vom) and the 20-something girl, Amanda, is everything I never want to be/can't believe I ever was. She's 25 or 26 and she is on a dating show. She knows she's on a dating show. She knows the guy she's been "dating" for the last 6 days is also "dating" several other women. Yet, she is sure that she is "falling" for this guy. So far, I've just seen her as a lost and love-struck girl. Then, THEN, last night, while they guy is having some romantic private time with another women she, a) follows them into the woods and then b) crawls into his tent to wait for him (!!!). Plus, she has fake boobs and teeth. Someone, please!, give this girl some self-esteem. The end.

In other news, I've been real good at keeping up with the self-portrait project. Here's a week in review:

Because it's true, that's why.

Monday, July 23, 2007

cross that off my list of things to do before I die

check it:

That would be the Sunday New York Times Crossword puzzle, and, yes friends, it has been completed. I only cheated a little bit, but then, who has heard of the game "one o' cat?" Seriously.

(that's a really perfect groove)

Thursday, July 19, 2007

Amen, sister.

When I was in college, I won a writing contest (Two, actually. Note: I am brushing my shoulders off.) for an essay I wrote on the adventures of my curly, curly hair. At the time, my hair, when wet, was past my shoulders, when dry, was about jaw length. I never wore my hair "down" as was often requested of me because, my hair didn't do "down" my hair did "out and up." My hair had a mind of its own, curls that could not be contained, would not fall into tumbling thick ringlets. No no no, my hair is something like if I had slept with 42,000 tiny curlers on my head.

My essay was about one afternoon when I was in my early teens and my mom took me to her hair stylist to get my hair "relaxed." It was the least relaxing experience one can imagine. The stylist put an Elmer's Glue-like substance on my scalp and it burned. Oh, how it burned. It burned for hours. Maybe I just have sensitive skin, or maybe the process was diabolical, no matter the blame, I ended up with scabs on my scalp for several weeks. Charming, I know.

(damn you, Paul Mitchell)

For most of my youth, my hair had been a constant enemy. I grew up in a Midwestern suburb where all the girls at school had straight, blond hair and I was the one with the, pardon my use of this term, rats nest, on my head. I remember being in girl scouts and at the end of a weekend camping trip, our troop leaders did a "tick check" of everyone's scalp, except mine. They told me to go home and have my mom check it out. My hair was too difficult to bother with even attempting the use of a comb.

But the thing that bothered me the most about my hair, aside from the constant urging of everyone I know for me to "wear it down," was my inability to try new hairstyles. Oh, how I've longed for a severe bob. Or bangs, oh my, bangs would be (and could be) a whole post of their own! Damn those bangs-sporting girls!

During the long, curly hair, era of my life, I was able to try some "funky" styles, I used to twist my hair in to mock dreadlocks or put it into those little buns on top of my head like the ska girls. But, overall, no, "funky" does not equal "versatile." Curly hair limits one's style, when it comes to hair. And, dear readers, that's a whole lotta b.s. for this gal, right here.

So, one day, I went to the hair salon with a picture in my hand:

and I said, who wants to have some fun?

One $12 haircut and 10-ish inches of hair later I was the happiest girl in town! I had never felt so free.

All this is to say that, today, while I was reading Jezebel, I came upon this post, and the whole time I was reading it, my only thought was, "Amen, sister."

One more note, that essay that I wrote won in the Humorous Writing category. Yeah. Har-dee-har-har.


Tuesday, July 17, 2007

I got a letter in my mailbox

Today I got a letter, a real letter in my mailbox from a good friend on the east coast. Joy!

Also, I was looking at the site meter for this here blog (don't know why, I only have 1.5 readers) and found that someone Googled me, thereby finding this blog. Flattered, I was.

Anyway, been inspired by the Hunter.
She is taking part in a self-portrait-a-day for 365 days project. I have decided to join in this little project. I posted 4 pics so far at flickr. Check it out.

Here's day 4:

I tried to do like one of those cameo necklaces. And, my my my, is that a touch of osteoporosis I see?! Weee!

Last night I watched "Victoria Beckham: Coming to America" and I am not ashamed in any way to say that I love that woman. Pish posh (ha!) to the haters. We could have an argument about this, but I'd win. So just, come on over to the Posh side. It's sunny here.

In other news, I fell asleep at work today. And when I say "at work today" I mean in the middle of the sales floor (not on the floor, we have a couch). Ah, me. If I were any more productive they'd have to name this city after me.

dear god, that song reminds me of high school and driving around Lake Owasso.

also, when I grow up, I want to be Patti Smith, only dressier.

Monday, July 16, 2007

mac and comfort

Well, I've just been m.lady downer lately haven't I?

apologies, apologies.

This morning I woke up, got out of bed, turned on "The View" and then went back to bed.

Then, at noon-ish, I got out of bed, took a shower, and made some comfort food, mom's mac and cheese.

When I was a kid, my mom made mac and cheese "from scratch" meaning, she never used the kind bought on the grocery shelf.

In fact, when I was about 10 years old, I went to a friend's house and her sister asked if I wanted mac and cheese and I was all "hell yeah!" (I had a foul mouth as a youth). She then hands me a clump of fluorescent orange noodle something in a bowl and I was all "what the?!" I didn't know there was another kind of mac and cheese out there.

So, this afternoon, in a woe-is-me state, I got a cookin' and here's what I made:

I hope CC is proud.

So, it tasted delicious, real real good, but not quite as good as Mom's. I tried to place what ingredient could be missing. And, of course, I realized, the missing ingredient was *love* I had been cooking for myself, partially out of woe and a need for cheesy comfort and partially out of a curiosity to see if I could "use the oven." Ahh me, the missing ingredient. Silly girl.

This is Bob Mould's new band....eh...hows about a Sugar reunion?! Yeah!!!

Sunday, July 15, 2007

It is real, the disappearing.

Remember in the movie "The Neverending Story," the way the big rock guy says, "The Nothing," real slow and careful and foreboding. But he doesn't say it in a ooky ooky scary, I'm gonna scare you little kids kind of way. He says it like it is very very real and we should all be warned.

Anyway, I think the Nothing done swallowed me up:

ah me, I am in quite a state today. (and yesterday and the day before that and the day before that and the day before that)

This is sad:

Thursday, July 12, 2007

"to fill the spaces / where my body's been."

So I was checking up on that lovely documentary-in-progress, "My Heart is an Idiot" and the filmmaker read this poem:

"Keeping Things Whole"

In a field
I am the absence
of field.
This is
always the case.
Wherever I am
I am what is missing.

When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in
to fill the spaces
where my body's been.

We all have reasons
for moving.
I move
to keep things whole.

-Mark Strand

I used to have a phobia, maybe not a phobia, maybe a quirk of some sort, about buying furniture. What I mean is, I never wanted to really "own" much because I thought it would make it harder to pack up everything I own into a Honda and move across state lines. It was somewhat comforting, knowing that nothing was holding me down to the place where I was currently residing.

Then, I moved to Chicago, and made it a year only owning a futon and a dresser. Then I bought a desk, a small little desk that has a fold out/down leaf so really, it's only the size of a small two-drawer filing cabinet, see:

(the bottom drawer doubles as a seat)

Then, I got my own place and made it 10 weeks before I bought a bookshelf and a table. Now, even thought the bookshelf and table are "easy" to dismantle, I find myself * freaking out * over their presence in my home. The clash between the comfort of having a place to eat my cereal or not having all of my records and books on the floor and the the invasion of "stuff" in my space is turning me a little bit inside out. What this means is that I am in someway tied to this place. If I ever want to leave, I have to sell all of this accumulated furniture. Or I have to get movers and a u-haul. Is it worth it? Am I more complete with this surrounding reminder that I am asserting myself in this space or am I more of a "whole" person with nothing around me?

I think the latter is true. I'm not ready to put any kind of roots down. I have a feeling, in less than a year, I'll be on my way somewhere, my furniture sold, my books and clothing donated, and just me and a Honda crossing state lines.

in other news, I'm working on a story that starts mid-sentence. ba-dow.

Monday, July 09, 2007


For some reason the word "book?" when said with a question mark, "book?" Always reminds me of the movie, "Witness." Harrison Ford played John Book and all the Amish folk said, "Book?" when they talked to him, as I remember, I haven't seen the movie in at least 10 years.

Anyway, book?

I'm working on order of stories, editing those stories, and telling myself, "hmm, maybe this could be something...maybe."

I always thought it was so, I don't know, strange to hear people tell me that they were writing a book. I was all "really? you think you can do that?" not out loud, just in my brain. I think I must've always considered that writing books was something that people who had previously been appointed "authors" in some special ceremony where the librarian takes a sword and taps each shoulder and says, "write a book" do.

Then, one day, I got a nice email that made me think this whole writing thing is more (more) and different than I had previously thought.

so there's that.

I actually don't really like that song, but I do like Frank Black, so....

Wednesday, July 04, 2007

What I did on my summer vacation...so far

This summer I.....

  • ate 2 pizzas
  • finally read "Franny and Zooey"
  • printed out all of my stories, spread them on the floor and said, "book?"
  • bought and assembled a bookshelf, table, and chairs
  • moved my desk 4 times
  • became addicted to "The 4400"
  • drew a robot representation of "The Last Supper"

I'm not too pleased with the actual appearance of most of the robots, I felt under pressure to maintain the light, hold the camera, and finish the drawing before "So You Think You Can Dance" came on the tv. Next time, I'll do better. promise.

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

Don't have a cow, man

So, because I have nothing but time and a mild ability to alter images using my computer...

Did you know that The Simpsons movie website, allows you to create your own image as an avatar?

This is me, so says The Simpsons movie website:

But I don' t think it's quite accurate, although, I do think the animated me is kind of hot, if I do say so myself (and I just did). But the pants are all kinds of high waisted, the shoes bordering on orthopedic, and the shirt collar dangerously close to becoming a mock turtleneck. (And what's up with the lazy eye?)

So I used my spare time (got nothin' but!) to do a little alteration:

Now, that's more like it. I couldn't believe that the website doesn't allow an avatar, glasses, skirts, or tattoos! Blasphemy! I mean, what kind of virtual online society are they trying to create?!

Monday, July 02, 2007

My Heart is an Idiot

I feel like I should post something since it's been a while...

Good news is, I went to the grocery store yesterday and bought some cereal and wine. And all is right again.

Anyways.... I was perusing the internets and stumbled upon this guy and his documentary film project. Right on. You should check it out too.

I'm also working on some words that lead up to this:

Max tells me “it be like that sometimes” like I'm supposed to give in to the give up and the nothing left to do but sit on these steps and wait for a comet to come and blow me up something times a million pieces so no one will know what my sweet little me looked like ever. I suppose it's something like when you're riding in a car and you know it's going to crash any second but you can't stop the car because the driver is an asshole who doesn't want to go to prom and that's why you burned him with your cigarette. So I say to Max I’m not worried ‘cause I can change the times and I turn the hands of the clock because when it comes to hands I have a magic little trigger in my pocket and I only pull it out to make change for the dollar bills come raining from the money tree I got in my back yard sprouted when I planted those magic beans and he was so twisted out he didn't know dog from god and he ran his sorry ass home and I sat on these steps and I looked at the milky way stars and I saw which one was the comet come to send me to heaven or something cloudlike with gates and angels and such and I laughed the sky out of my way 'cause I told god I had other things coming and he had to wait because when time times me it equals something like sunshine and in the daytime you can't see anything astrological but the moon and any fool knows a moon on the horizon's same size as a moon up top in the middle of the sky and I'm a smart girl, and I know that no comet the size of a pin prick in a sorry man's spine can wreck me. Can break my skinny little bones.

And those words plus other words will hopefully at some point end up as something like a story.

more soon. promise.