Saturday, September 30, 2006
I’m surprisingly calm
I only got out of bed because my mom stopped by. “Your phone went right to voicemail, so I knew you were up.” Uh, no, that means my phone is OFF. Chat chat she leaves… I’m puttering around the house. Might as well learn how to use my new cell phone. Read read flip flip beep beep set up Mandy to her proper speed-dial slot, give her a call. La la la, she has a cat emergency to take care of, we hang up, I’m puttering around the house, walking past the front window, glance out at the parking lot, WHY IS MY TRUNK OPEN?
Fuckity fuck fuck. I get dressed to go outside. I grab my car keys, fully aware of the irony but still hopeful.
This is the second time that my car has been broken into in this lot. This guy was better than the last guy, though. The last guy left a small dent in my window frame, but this guy didn’t do any apparent exterior damage. However, he trashed my steering column in an attempt to steal the whole car. There are bolts and bits of the plastic cover all over.
Yes, I’m assuming it’s been guys both times. Bite me.
The cop wasn’t at all surprised that mine was the only car hit (there’s a brand-new Matrix that has the spot next to me, for instance). You see, I drive an Acura Integra. An 11-year-old Integra SEDAN, but the dipshits around here still seem to think that they’re gonna get all Tokyo Drift with my OEM parts. There is no accounting for stupid.
I left a message for my car guys. I hope they still have Saturday hours, because I’m afraid to drive this thing with the steering column held in place by… I have no idea. I’m pretty sure that parts strewn about my car are cosmetic, but I don’t want to be the one to mess with it and put Bolt A into Hole C.
So if anyone is interested in buying my Integra, I think it’s time for me to get a Civic.
Monday, September 25, 2006
My favorite typo!
Years ago, I attended the annual Mothers’ Day game at Sky Sox Stadium in Colorado Springs. In order to include all women, it has been rechristened Ladies’ Day. Or, on the commemorative t-shirt I so cherish, Ladie’s Day.
This is, without a doubt, one of my favorite shirts.
Tonight, I’m watching an episode of Charlie’s Angels (who knew someone was still showing it?), where our intrepid undercover gals are “sent to a raceway to investigate the death of a female driver.” And the sign at the raceway? Ladie’s Invitational! I love it!
A little research turns up the interesting fact that this episode, “Hellride,” is only the second episode of CA; the first after the pilot. And that it first aired on Sept. 22, 1976. So, Charlie’s Angels is 30 years old this year, and nobody is having a party?
Sunday, September 24, 2006
I have just been… uh… lightly reminded that perhaps it was time to post a blog entry. Yay! I have a avid reader! (Yes, the grammar is off. It is, however, how I would actually vocalize it. It’s an affectation inspired by an episode of the Honeymooners. Ralph and Ed are practicing their scripts for a TV commercial for some kitchen gadget. Ed, doing his Norton-ish best, reads his line as, “But can it core a apple?”)
So anyway. Since I read about Jon introducing daughter Leta to licorice (and Heather’s reaction), I’ve been craving some of the stuff. I’m not a huge licorice fan, so I started small. I bought a stick of Panda to stash at the office, but haven’t yet broken into it. Today I was at World Market searching for a missing Halloween costume piece, and instead stumbled into all different kinds of licorice! Haribo! Katjes! Some Australian brand! I decided to go with the Katjes, essentially because there were four different kinds to choose from, and it was bound to be an adventure what with my German not being so good. I was reduced to reading the ingredients list for each one, and trying to find the most introductory style. The first bag I picked up (Cats’ Ears) had herbal ingredients like chamomile. Maybe not where I should start. The second bag (Cats’ Paws) was herbal as well, but was softer. The third bag (Licorice Lumps) seemed more my style, with apple juice as an ingredient. I also bought a bag of tropical licorice, with passion fruit and kiwi and mango flavors mixed in.
Maybe I should have started there. The first “lump” was pretty bad. I had a second one, just to be sure. Yep, icky. It’s been an hour, and I still can’t get the aftertaste out of my mouth. Bleh.
And speaking of Halloween (heh heh), I’m spending way too much money on a Tia Dalma costume that has a long way to go. My mom caught a glimpse of the embroidered silk fabric I bought yesterday, and has forbidden me for using it for something as paltry as a Halloween costume. I have to admit, she’s right. This fabric is way too fabulous. I think I also need to admit that I am not up to the sheer volume of sewing that faces me if I go ahead with this costume. Heck, it’s been three weeks since I read the directions for a cute NO-SEW skirt, and I still haven’t made THAT yet. I have a perfectly good fallback costume. And I don’t think I’ve missed a detail on that one, if I may say so myself. But, but, but… if I could pull Tia Dalma off, it would be fanTAStic. I’ve only invested $40 so far (NOT counting the embroidered silk fabric), so it’s not too late to back out…
My work costume, on the other hand, is turning into the project I knew from the get-go it would be. The dress was already in my stash of spare costumes, the wig was unnecessary but a fun addition. Now the real work begins. The dress needs to be shortened, the sleeves altered, the accessories need to be made. Boots need to be chosen and procured (the wrong shoes will kill a look, and people so often skimp on this detail.) Cuffs created, grommeted, and laced. The tool belt will be the toughest part. I bought 2″ nylon webbing, elastic, and a parachute clip. Measuring out the spacing for the tools will be the most tedious work, I think. Oh, and I’ve started procuring the tools. A trip to the dollar store is in order. Argh, I bought a hand-held rotary cutter and a new Olfa self-healing mat, but I somehow lost the mat at the cash register. It’s not on my receipt, which is better than me forgetting it AFTER paying for it. But it was on sale, and I don’t know how long the sale is for. Looks like I’m going to JoAnn three days in a row.
Ugh. I’m going to bed.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Assuming one works with the seven-landmass model of continental geography, then, according to my clustrmap, I am missing site visits only from Africa and Antarctica. Heck, even if I were to use the less common three-continent model, I’d still be missing Antarctica. Now, I don’t expect anyone to be surfing MySpace from Antarctica. But if someone reading this happens to be heading down to Tierra del Fuego and wants to pop on over… with a wireless connection… then that would be cool. No pun intended.
HA HA HA ha ha ha ha!
Seriously, I was reading up on the average temperatures in Antarctica. In the summertime, it’s really cold. In winter, it’s really fucking cold. I mean, REALLY fucking cold. I-didn’t-know-anything-on-this-planet-was-that-cold kind of cold. Got that mental image? Great. Now make it around A HUNDRED degrees colder. I’m not kidding. How many years did it take to even develop a thermometer that could measure that kind of cold? AND HOW DO THEY KNOW IT’S WORKING? 130 degrees BELOW 0?! It’s like trying to imagine death. The mind simply boggles and goes all floppy and then starts thinking about pudding or something.
And here I am, all “ooh, it’s 62 degrees in here, I’d better turn the heat on.” Feh.
The Last Kiss
Right off the bat, it has both the awkward sensitivity and the terrific music that Zack Braff made himself known for with Garden State. It’s a painfully truthful movie about honesty. Being honest with your friends, and being honest with yourself. There is no real ending, no tidy, tied-up resolutions. For a movie, it’s pretty depressing. For a slice of real life, it’s achingly accurate.
I bought the soundtrack this morning.
To mimic one of Deven’s three-word reviews: Truth Sounds Good
Currently listening :
By Original Soundtrack
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
I’ve been going for a weekly massage*. This has resulted in a few things.
1. I should be panicked about a certain situation at work (totally unrelated to yesterday’s blog) but am feeling fully confident and competent about dancing around potential disaster.
2. I was recently told that I “seem happier.”
3. I was finally able to straighten my back into Down Dog yesterday. For those not in the know, Down Dog is in the top 3 Most Basic Yoga Poses EVER. It’s preceded, in my mind, only by Mountain (essentially, standing up) and Corpse (lying down). So this is a dubious achievement, but damn if it doesn’t feel good.
4. I’m harboring a small amount of guilt about going in every week. As a result, I’m taking next week “off.”
5. I’ve been getting fewer headaches. Maybe. I never have kept track, but I’d like to think that this is an actual result.
6. My massage therapist is actually working some knots out so the massage was not as painful tonight. Oh, right, until she started in with the SEPARATING FLESH FROM BONE action. Yeah, that’s a little achey.
I think I’m taller when I leave.
*I have a very generous alternative health plan.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Get Over It
The second of The Four Agreements: Don’t Take Anything Personally.
I’m trying. I am consciously trying. But this afternoon I was yelled at (yelled near? berated, really) for something that was Not My Fault. By someone who I felt “had my back.” A friend. I understand that this person is overworked. Is being pulled in too many directions. Was apparently being berated himself by a VP over this very issue. But ouch.”Chuck,” from a different-yet-related department, had come by my desk earlier in the day to say that “Martin” was looking for the transparency of a digital image he had found on the server. A woman on a BalanceBall. I asked if it was the shot of Suzanne (a blonde, remember this for later) on the purple ball, backlit by the sun. He replied “Yeah, sure.” I told him that I didn’t think those were shot for catalog, and that the film was most likely in their archive library rather than ours.
I’m not exactly sure how their filing system works, but the notebooks I’ve seen are generally labeled with a location (unknown in this case) and a model (known). So I figured that it wouldn’t take too long for Martin to flip through the books labelled Suzanne. Done deal.
I was slow today, so around 4 or 4:15, I called Chuck to see if he had anything that I could be working on. He didn’t.
I had a headache and thought I’d split early, but I overheard Martin asking Chuck what would happen if he didn’t find the image, and I realized that they were still looking for it. Eager to work on something, I wandered over to get the scoop directly from Martin. He showed me the shot they were looking for. A completely different image than the one I had thought, one that I didn’t recognize at all, with a BRUNETTE model. In a studio. And Martin told me that he found the digital image on the CATALOG server. Well, that changes things rather drastically. Now I know it’s a catalog image, which means it’s my domain. Martin even knew that it was scanned in January of 2001. I brought Martin upstairs to the catalog archive library, we narrowed the possibilities down to three books of transparencies, and he found it in the third book we looked through. Yay! I apologized for accidentally sending him on a wild goose chase, Martin thanked me for pointing him the right direction, and we went back to our respective desks. I overheard Martin singing my praises as he wandered off to his coworkers. 🙂
Note: whoever pulled the digital contact sheet had manually watermarked the image with Need Model Release which, given the age of the image, will take some doing. This is not a one-day process. Read this as: their department knew that they would not have a useable image by the end of the day before I was ever brought into it.
I stopped by Chuck’s cubicle to let him know we found the image, and he SCOLDED ME for WASTING an hour and a half of their time while they looked through their own files. He accused me of TELLING him that it was a catalog image, but making them look through their own books. And he griped that “Jill,” a VP, was ticked off because she wanted the image earlier and now it was 7pm at the New York office.
Okay, let’s ignore the fact that the image I described to Chuck was not actually the image they were looking for. We’ll chalk that one up to innocent miscommunication. But let’s look at the rest:
1. If I thought for a single bleeding moment that it was a catalog shot, for fuck’s sake WHY would I make them look through their packaging archives? I can’t even wrap my head around this possibility.
2. Why didn’t Chuck tell me that Martin was still looking for the film when I called looking for something to work on?
3. If Martin had, indeed, been looking for an hour and a half (and I do not dispute this), then that means that he didn’t start looking until 5:30 NY time in the first place. Even if I had known at that time where to look, it wasn’t likely going to do much good.
4. Again, they already knew that they couldn’t use the image without negotiating new contracts with the model and photographer. Or at the very least, researching the contract to see if we had, uncharacteristically, bought the shot outright. So whether we found the film today or tomorrow is a moot point. We still have to find the paperwork regarding who actually shot it, and who the model is.
It’s not personal. It’s not personal. It’s not personal… it IS fucking aggravating.
Deep breath. Today’s AIM-spiration (sent daily by a friend):”If you really want to test your memory, try to remember what you were worrying about one year ago.”
And exhale. Namaste.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
weekend train of thought
Past tense:Mary Kay party. Pink martinis. Fruit kabobs. Pink cupcakes (red velvet with pink frosting). Pink balloons. Pink plates. If I am my own Superego, Erin is my Id.
Went to the gem show. Just so my mom could see it. I wound up buying a digital gram scale (needed) and nearly 100 grams of Thai silver (totally not needed, dammit). I reeeeaaalllly need to crack my whip and get back into production. At the very least, I need to lengthen MJ’s necklace and make the earrings she ordered.
Beautiful sunshiney day. Wind. Windy windy windy.
Finally got to see Amy again. Yay! The Lab at Belmar. The Soothing Sounds of 30 Electric Typewriters. Except the wind made it more like The Cacophany of Mic’d Rustling Papers. WINDY WINDY WINDY. Temperature drop. We didn’t stick around for Devotchka.
Turned the heat on for the first time this season. Bird’s Custard has microwave directions on the tin. Thank you, nice people at Bird’s Custard.
Present tense: Yummy brunch at Bump & Grind. REI. Good to see Sui & Mike & Rich & Bruce. Another beautiful, warm day. Successful bidding on three eBay auctions: one dress specifically for Halloween costume 1A (Erin’s Hollywood party), two other fun dresses stumbled upon while looking for the one. Brief e-discussion with Erin regarding the difficulty of costume 2A (alternate for Erin’s party). Trip to store for accessories for costume 1A. Wound up with accessory for costume 1B (for the office); base dress and accessory for costume 3A (potential replacement for 1A). Erin has by now found reference photos for costume 2A. Mom drops by unannounced with Halloween book from the library. Erin sends reference photos for 3A. Design element of the Halloween book is inspiration for costume 4A. Must do further research on that one before proceeding with any of the above. Head spinning.
Monday, September 11, 2006
The answer is none. None more flat.
I spent Labor Day weekend in Ulysses, Kansas for a family reunion. While there, I drove “sag wagon” for the last 25 miles of a 50-mile bike ride that some family members had undertaken. I couldn’t drive too fast, so I took photos. A lot of photos.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
roller derby would kill me
I fell down at the office yesterday. It’s a long story involving heavy drinking. I’m kidding, what is wrong with you people? Anyway, I landed on my well-padded thigh.
Roller derby would kick my ass. Literally.
7:43 PM –