On a less humorous (but

On a less humorous (but more momentous) note… yesterday was the ONE-YEAR anniversary of our move to Seattle. One whole year since the day we drove around Kent, utterly lost, looking desperately for the Extended Stay Motel (in a total panic because of how badly we had to pee.) Tomorrow will be the one-year anniversary of us getting sideswiped by the migrant worker with no brakes and no insurance on our way to Bumbershoot. How are we going to celebrate? Why, by going to Bumbershoot, of course!

It’s strange that we’ve been here for so long, and yet it still feels so temporary. Maybe that’s due to my obsession with not staying any one place for very long, not having the same hair color for very long, not wearing the same style of clothing for very long, not hanging out with the same people for very long. I thrive on change - or, rather, I’ve grown so accustomed to it that the idea of NOT changing terrifies me. It’s really a wonder that Bill puts up with it. He’s the first best friend I’ve had for more than a year. Ever. He’s also the first roommate I’ve had for more than a year. Ever. Aside from my house up until I was 14, this apartment is the first place I’ve lived for more than a school year… and I’m itching to get out of it. It’s starting to feel old. I love to constantly refresh, re-examine, re-imagine. Each chance to start anew feels like a chance to do it right. And, after awhile, each ‘new start’ begins to feel old, and I alter everything and start again. Maybe this is why I’ve always been so fond of tattoos and piercings - every new hole, every new drop of ink, is a memento for me of some ‘new phase’ in my life, and it remains (in one form or another) long after that new start has been thrown out. Or, occasionally, some of them remind me of new leaves that remained turned over.

So, last weekend we went

So, last weekend we went garage sailing with Nate and Ben. At one point during our journey, we were supposed to be turning on 8th. Bill and I were in our car, following Nate’s car. Suddenly, I notice that we have WAY passed 8th. “What the *!#@?” I say to myself. Just then, my cell rings. I pick up, and I hear Nate on the other line, breathing heavily, with Ben giggling like a rather vocal schoolgirl in the background. In fact, he was giggling so loudly that we could hear him even WITHOUT the aid of the cell phone. “I’m so sorry,” Nate says, “but the car in front of us has a license plate frame that says ‘I’d rather be shopping with Jesus’, and Ben wanted a picture. We’re going to turn around now.”

Good, good day. Hair is

Good, good day. Hair is a smashing new color (Deep Currant #42, Dark Burgundy Brown). Wearing exceptionally cute outfit to work. Brand new make-up. Drinking yummy green tea. Today, I scheduled an audition for Orgasmo Adulto Escapes from the Zoo at A Theatre Under the Influence. I applied for a job at Seattle Asian Art Museum. I also applied for a job with Mahler Fine Arts Consulting. Things are not going to continue to suck for long. I have hope for the future.

Of course, I am saying this while doing what Ms. Sonya Walker would call “Smiling like an airtight lie that doesnt hurt a soul.” Still, all in all… a good day. So far.

I applied for a job

I applied for a job today at the Seattle Asian Art Museum, and while I was on the website, I found this article about the Olympic Sculpture Park. How cool is that?

This is really beautiful.

This is really beautiful.
God, I know such amazing people.

Okay, I’m really bored. I

Okay, I’m really bored.
I did a web search of several friends’ names, and here is what I found.
(I didn’t even both searching Bill Murray, for the record. It would have popped up too many hits to even begin to process.)

Julia Sibley

Julia A. Sibley, born 1820
Julia Sibley, born 1856
Julia Sibley of Appleton ME

Ryan Casey

Ryan Casey, age 15
Casey-ryan, name definition
Ryan Casey & Co.

Casie Perry

More than I care to count… article after article after article with “photos by Casie Perry”. She’s really, really good. I especially like this one.

Sarah Rosenzweig

Sarah Rosenzweig, assistant cashier

Lara Storm (my best friend from when I was little)

ROC - whoa. This is actually her. And I haven’t talked to her in years. Holy cow!
Karst-O-Rama … this is actually her too. weird.

I got your blowjob reference,

I got your blowjob reference, Silly Sarah. I was just amused by the fact that when you click on a link that says “blowjob”, you are taken to my page. It seemed strangely ironic.

And, for the record, when typing that first sentence, I typed blogjob and then couldn’t figure out why it looked weird. I REALLY need to stop being so bored at work.

someone help me make

someone help me make up my heart

Goodbye, Starlight Express. In the summer of 1994, I went on a European tour with the Illinois Ambassadors of Music. We played Band and Choir concerts in Great Britain, France, Switzerland, Italy… for two and a half weeks, we roamed the continent in a couple of ugly little buses. Part of the original plan was to see Cats at the Apollo Victoria. However, the week before we were supposed to see it, it closed. After however many years in that venue, it was being replaced by Starlight Express. We were all incredibly disappointed, but we really enjoyed the show. We were there for - I believe - either its opening weekend there, or its second weekend there. I fell madly in love with one of the songs - which, I might add, didn’t seem to make it onto ANY of the CDs I’ve ever found. And, as it happened, one of the songs ended up playing rather prominently into my life two and a half years later. I’m not the biggest fan of musicals now, but since I saw it BEFORE I started doing theatre, I still remember it in the context in which I first saw it - as something magical. Ta ta, rollertrains.

There was a link to

There was a link to Lura in the article I just linked to below. So, I went to check out her site. Little did I know that she is friends with Meaghan Maloney’s alter-ego evil twin! (The girl on the left is named Megan Moloney.) Freaky. I wonder how many other Alicia Bartas there are out there. Would you like to find out and tell me?

And now, for all of

And now, for all of you who have always wondered what the appeal of blogs was,

HERE IS SOME NATIONAL MEDIA TO EXPLAIN IT TO YOU!

It just doesn’t sound as exciting coming from me.

oooh, boy. So, Sarah posted

oooh, boy. So, Sarah posted something really funny today. There’s this great website called Exploding Dog, where the guy does drawings based on the titles you send him. Sarah liked this one, but my favorite one is here. It’s so, so true.

And speaking of which, why does “blowjob” = Alicia? I’ve got my eye on you, Sarah Rosenzweig… or I would, if my neck were 1263.5 miles long.

love you whenever we’re together,

love you whenever we’re together,
love you when we’re apart

So, it’s early sunday morning, and my phone rings. I drag my sorry, sleepy ass out of bed, and hear the voice of Ryan Patrick Casey, one of the greatest loves of my entire life. Ryan, like Bill and Mitch, falls into the top 5 non-family people who have had the most distinct effect on who I’ve become. For one reason or other, we hadn’t talked in over a year, since he’s in Japan right now, teaching english. We talked for over five hours, and in that process went over every little stinking detail of everything fate-ish that happened between the two of us in the past five and a half years, and it was SO GREAT. That’s all I’m going to say about it, since I already went over it in disgusting detail in my “none of your damn business” blog.

On a slightly less cool note, Casie’s birthday was yesterday and I didn’t call her. I’d been setting alarms for myself for weeks, I got her a present, I just never got off my ass enough to do it on time. I’m a shmo. sigh. I did call her from work today, but she was on her way to a class. I’m a well-meaning but all around bad friend.

On Sunday, after my phone marathon, Billy and I took the Bailey and Piper to Greenlake to hang out for the afternoon. They barked at everyone, but that was okay. It was so nice to just hang out OUTSIDE for once… maybe I’ll do that tonight, while Bill’s at rehearsal. Get in touch with my inner wood nymph by romping with the dogs. Of course, what I’ll actually end up doing is spending all night cleaning, since the dogs got out of the bathroom today and chewed up a bunch of crap. And peed on the carpet. They’ll never learn.

And now, it’s that magic, magic hour wherein I get to go the hell home.

Confidential to Begonia I

Confidential to Begonia

I didn’t get cast in the show at SPT, but the director asked me if I wanted to stage manage for them. I thought about it for a long time and then decided that maybe I’d better take a break before jumping into another SM experience. So, I gave them your name and number and told them you were the best stage manager in the whole world. I hope you don’t mind.

Okay, this is funny. You

Okay, this is funny. You know how they have those little captions on Frasier before each scene?

This time, it said

ilovesaturday So, Nate and Benlau

ilovesaturday

So, Nate and Benlau and Billy and I went garage “sailing”, as Ben put it, on Saturday. I know I must be a girl, even if I don’t feel real girly most of the time, because I love to shop. I LOVE it. Especially digging through other people’s old stuff. Especially when it’s really cheap and I can actually afford it.

Things I intended to look for/ buy at the garage sales:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
dresser
bookshelves
desk
chair

Things I actually bought at the garage sale:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
vintage black patent leather handbag -> $3
Movies:
Playing by Heart |
Sneakers | - > $10
The Opposite of Sex |
Shiny Silver and gold Gitano watch -> $3
crappy old dresser -> $30
giant china pig to send my Casie for her birthday -> $5
Old-fashioned stoneware percolator -> $5

Then, of course, we had to go out to HOME DESPOT! We got two colors of coordinating paint, crackle medium, primer, cleaner, brushes, dishes, etc etc. Bill even got a painting hat ($.87) so he’d feel more crafty. Now, we have a kitchen full of dresser and paint, and no time to do it. It’s going to take years. YEARS.

movin’ on up to the

movin’ on up to the east side

hey, look, I’ve been missing for awhile.
I had a really busy weekend. BUT, I’ve spent all day working on what I like to call my “it’s none of your damn business” blog. (A girl’s gotta have a little privacy somewhere.) SO, I’ll be back later to talk about…

garage saling
phone calls from Japan
playing with puppies in the park
and our upcoming Bob Vila projects.

I promise.

Confidential to SonJet Chicago is

Confidential to SonJet

Chicago is big, and dark, and cold. Very bitter wind wind windy. Lots of art stuff, but it’s REALLY hard to get into, compared to Seattle. Much more exclusive than the scene here. Panhandlers are much scarier than they are here. Lots and LOTS of schools nearby.
It is three and a half hours from my family.

St. Louis is small, and dirty, and not very fun. Plus, if you cross into the bad area of St. Louis, you’re in trouble. Seriously. You get lost, and a cop finds you, they will personally stick you in their car and drive you away so you don’t get killed. Most people, though, are reasonably friendly. Not a lot of art stuff. A couple of schools.
It is two and a half hours from my family.

I think you would be far less happy with the environment of either city than you are here. Boston might be fun though… from what I hear. (I haven’t ever been there.) I do have a friend there who’s a theatre-geek, if you want to make some connections. He’s also pretty charming. (Hi, Tom!)

I think you would really like Minneapolis. Four actual seasons, lots of fringe theatre, and close to most of my college friends, who would just EAT YOU UP… In a nice way, of course.

Confidential to SupaSawa Break

Confidential to SupaSawa

Break a leg on your interview, sweetie pie…

Here’s hoping that you don’t have to temp for five months. Gah.

all the way to reno

all the way to reno

so, call back last night. Emotions so VERY mixed on this one. I’ve never been called back for a show and then not cast. That’s just the way the cookie has crumbled… there have been many shows I auditioned for but didn’t get cast in, but for every callback I’ve attended, I’ve been cast. I sense this will not be the case this time.

First, I read for a character described in the script as “young, athletic, attractive, popular”. Obviously, this is the ingenue role, and I am not (and will never be) an ingenue. Ever. I get up there and it is a big old botch. Next, I read for the character I’m called back for. In the script, she is listed as being 55. I think the readings for that character go well, but I’m pretty intimidated by the fact that there are several women called back for that role who ARE actually 55. This, however, results in a situation where I am Bill’s mother-in-law, and I joke with my daughter about how I’m going to steal her boyfriend. It was pretty funny.

Bill is going back for a second set of callbacks tonight. I’m just feeling rather flummoxed by the entire experience, and I don’t even know WHAT to think about it. I guess we’ll just see what happens. I’m so very, very tired of waiting and waiting and waiting. If it’s not a part, it’s a job, it’s a check, it’s always something. To quote the bartender at Satellite … “She’s waiting. That’s why they call her a waitress.”

philosophical bloggerponder #2 I am

philosophical bloggerponder #2

I am playing with white-out, trying to fix my timecard. I’ve taken a copy from last week and whited out all of my hours so that I can use it as a template for this week. There are a lot of things I want to save, so I go in with the tiny corner of the white-out sponge and carefully remove exactly what was wrong, so that I can replace it … but I leave all of the relevant things intact. End result: perfect, flawless-looking timecard - showing penstrokes, in various places, that date back weeks.

In an ideal world, this would be a perfect metaphor for life.

hey now, hey now, when

hey now, hey now, when the world comes in

Heard this morning on 103.7 The Mountain

dj
Dave Matthews, on one day becoming an actor…

Dave Matthews
One day, if I have a lot of time on my hands, and I can go to acting school, because I’d hate to get on the silver screen and… you know… suck.

I remember Tricia talking about knowing Dave way back when, back when they were starving artists in Virginia, and how he was originally a really great comedic actor who just happened to pick up a guitar one day…and I wonder. I wonder if I - after years of acting and scrounging and dedicating my life to being poor and scrappy so I can chase that dream - if I would so easily dismiss that part of my life, if I got famous for something else. Would I joke on a radio show about how I’m not an actor? Would I throw away that dream, because it seemed helpful to the success of my new dream? I don’t know.

Yay, SARAH! Welcome to the

Yay, SARAH!

Welcome to the happy, wonderful world of my friend Sarah Rosenzweig, who is teriffic and awesome and lives in San Diego with her soon-to-be-husband Mark English. Sarah and Mark are yet another St. Olaf - Carleton hybrid couple, and we love them for being an inter-campus oddity, just like us. I’m going to be in their wedding on March 24, and I’m really stinking excited about it. Right at the moment, I’m just really excited to have another blog to read during my long, dreary temping days. Don’t you have one yet? Why not! Go get one RIGHT NOW …

and once you get one, make sure to tell me about it!

watching the world wake up

watching the world wake up from history

Velvet Rut review, again. Not too sure what to think of it. And when did Tricia change her last name to Ready? hm.

On a happier note, the Velvet Rut ZINE is now online. So, those of you who didn’t get to see it are no longer poor, pathetic, disconnected-from-the-pulse-of-society losers. Plus, you can also watch the Velvet Rut preview. See those people wrestling? My boyfriend did that!

BOO YAH, mthfka I have

BOO YAH, mthfka

I have a call-back. Yes, I sure do, a call-back for Little Murders, by Jules Feiffer, directed by Todd Jamison, at the Seattle Public Theater. I am most thoroughly, excellently excited about it, and I REALLY want to act again. No time for a break, no time no time no time. Gotta get movin’, gotta get goin’, gotta get back into the thick of it where things are thick. If I stop to take a break, I’ll just fall asleep, and it’s not nearly naptime yet.

Velvet Rut review #2.

Have you all read “The Hamper” yet? Three cheers for “Droopy Acres”… I guess we’re not allowed to change its name now!

My folks cleaned out our storage unit over the weekend and sent us all the rest of our stuff. Or, almost all. The vintage furniture we spent days on end refinishing was apparently “too expensive to ship” and so they donated all of it. There’s at least 50 man-hours and $300 worth of furniture out the window. I’m really super f-ing pissed about it, but we do get most of our books back, stuffed animals, my suede fringe jacket, etc etc. However, now my apartment is so covered in boxes that I can’t see to clean, which kinda sucks. Ah well.

Off to shop before picking up my Billy. TTFN, gentle friends.

dammit. I just posted this,

dammit.
I just posted this, and I lost it due to a stupid bloggerfreeze. Here it is again.

So, on my way to work this morning, I hear this on the radio:

“did anyone hear about the exploding potato in that theatre in London?”

and I think to myself - by London, do they mean Seattle?

Just in case any of you other Rutters were curious about that Brit potato that’s been stealing our thunder, here’s the real story, courtesy of the NY Times.

There are three things which

There are three things which are unfortunate about my life at the moment.

#1
My stomach is unhappy. Why, you may ask? Because I was given a big old tub of strawberries today by someone in my office. She bought them for the meeting which was supposed to happen Wednesday, but didn’t. They’ve been in the fridge for a couple of days, so we thought they were fine. Evidently, they were not.

#2
My finger is bleeding. Why, you may ask? Because I have freaking frostbite in the middle of August. Our fax machine was covered in crap from stickers, and it wouldn’t come off. So, I borrowed the goo remover from the janitor. I thought I was being pretty careful, but at one point I touched it. It was REALLY FREAKING COLD. So, I read the can, and it warns that touching the substance can cause frostbite. Two minutes later, I realize my finger has literally just cracked right open in two places and is bleeding onto my desk. I find this whole situation to be freaky and gross.

#3
I’m really stinking tired. sigh. But, what else is new.

annie are you okay,

annie are you okay, are you okay, are you okay annie

Ooh, Velvet Rut Review. Good old Joe Adcock. (Nice interview, Bucci.)

Last night went pretty well. There were a couple of lighting glitches, one sound cue that I mis-called, but for the most part things went smoothly. The cast didn’t seem especially thrilled with it, from what I could tell, but I thought it was a good preview. Tonight’s opening night, so here we go!

I just about cried when we dropped Sukha at his car last night. It’s always so hard to have a good friend visit after a long time of being apart - especially when you only have a couple of hours together before they disappear. You want so badly for everything to be perfect that you become self-conscious and just fuck it up. After not seeing him for four years, and only very occasionally emailing in the meantime, I was so glad to see him that I almost had a hernia. Despite being a little older, it was so so comforting to see that he really hadn’t changed… at least not in the important ways. You know that feeling of hugging someone, where you’ve done it so many times and you have that sense memory of just exactly what it feels like? I catapulted myself out of our apartment and instantly, it was June of 1996 and he was hugging me goodbye at my graduation. Almost too many memories and emotions to deal with all at once. And of course, the whole time he was here, I wanted so badly for it to feel just like old times that I turned into a self-editing mess… but I think he understood. It’s times like this that I wonder why I decided to move so far away from everyone that I love. It’s hard.

There are plenty of

There are plenty of things more interesting than drugs. Revenge, for example.

HAHA! and HA and HA!

Take THAT you stupid IDIOT MACHINE!

I have once again figured out how to foil the personal-mail-seeking-program. Ha, ha, and ha.
God, I love yahoo.

oh, and I almost forgot. I no longer have email access at home. Last night, while I was talking to Ernie, the monitor began sizzling and shooting sparks. Soon, our entire living room smelled rancid and the image started shaking. I immediately turned the monitor off. Once Bill got home, he turned the monitor on, and it *poof*ed and died. It just goes to show you that once your computer is five years old, if YOU don’t replace it, it will commit honorable harikari. Let this be a warning to you all.

from the crib to the

from the crib to the ride and the clothes

Sukha is coming. My Christopher Stupid-Pod brain-slurping brick-dropping bat. My French Horn Section co-commander. My nemesis and my love. He was a year behind me in high school, and in my section in Symphonic Wind Ensemble (SWEEEEEEEE!)

He’s coming to the show tonight, too. That’ll be sweet.

On a sadder note, I’ve been getting around the company restrictions on checking personal email, by using a convoluted yahoo login-thingy that the computer didn’t recognize as being illegal. Somehow, in the last five minutes, that has changed. sigh. Stupid temping.

I’ve spent a lot of

I’ve spent a lot of time recently thinking about how 1984 my life has become. I finally have a cell phone, and I play with it all day. I loved the idea of being so connected to everything. I sit at work all day and surf, reading about what my friends are doing across the city, posting my innermost thoughts where anyone could see them. It never occurred to me to be frightened of this, or to even be wary of it. Then, the day I got my cell, I read this at Hugo House during rehearsal… during a short span where I just wanted to escape.

she said why and i

she said why and i told her that i didn’t know

Confidential to Molly
Supporting art, driving a fuel-efficient compact car, not smoking, and eating veggie are very important things. They seem like traits of someone who is an active participant in their own life and the world. Someone who pays attention, takes action. Someone who is non-insular enough to know that there is art out there, and that the environment is fragile (as are human lungs).

As for the walking to rehearsal bit, I’d personally rather drive there in my fuel-efficient compact car (which just happens to match yours)… even if it IS only eight blocks or so. I need to save my energy for smoking and supporting art.

smoke and ashes Well,

smoke and ashes

Well, I had already typed this whole thing and our DSL went down and I lost it. d’oh. So, here it is again…

Hooray, VELVET RUT!

We just had the smoothest first-full-tech-run ever last night. The people in this show are too brilliant (and patient) for words. I know I’ve been really snippy for the past couple of weeks - I felt like I was letting people down, which always sends me into a state of minor panic - but last night was so refreshing and comforting and all-around good. At the beginning of this whole escapade, Sonya told me that by the end, I would love being in charge, and I guess it’s kind of telling that I don’t. The organization part is fine, it’s just the being assertive part that’s really, really hard for me. For some reason, I just don’t feel like I should have any jurisdiction outside of my own bubble. So, since it’s still hard, I’m going to try to keep doing it, as part of my “Personal Improvement Plan”. ( I will be posting updates to my PIP as I come up with them.) Apparently Bill knows someone who’s sort of trolling for future Stage Managers, and I’m going to call her. I think I could be good at it - but it’s going to take a bit of ego-revision. My own personal, self-imposed trial by fire.

On a slightly less masochistic (but equally insane) note, I’ve got an audition coming up this Sunday. I really miss acting. It’s what I’m most comfortable doing - it’s the most fulfilling thing I can do with my time, and I’m desperate to get back into it. If I was cast in this show, rehearsals would start right in the middle of the Velvet Rut run, and the show would go up two weeks after VR closes. It sounds nuts, but I REALLY think I could do it. Plus, it’s one of my favorite scripts - my very first audition monologue ever came from Little Murders. Maybe it’s time to come full circle.

On an acting note, Congratulations, Pamala! The fabulous Ms. Molly Mijatov just was cast in a show at Golden Fish. You go, girl.

My next tattoo will probably

My next tattoo will probably be the characters for “wabi-sabi”, a concept introduced to me by Bill Cole, my director at 14/48. Apparently wabi-sabi figures prominently into Japanese theatre… as well as figuring prominently into my life.

What do you think?

what is it you adore?

what is it you adore?

Inspired by the marvelous vocal stylings of the goddess Poe, here is a list of things I like:

* Payday
* Wild Tiger cheese pizza with extra garlic, thyme, and red pepper
* horoscopes that are so right on
* temp jobs that last forever
and are cushy
and have free downtown parking
* giving myself highlights
* Poe

* Susheela Raman
* Leah Andreone
* the way Bill looks when he’s all clipped and shaved and clean and tan
* having enough money to pay bills
* alien (Aeron) chairs that are set just right to fit me
* friends who clean out your car when they drive it
* that I-love-you-so-much-I-could-just-die look Bailey gives me sometimes
* having nothing else to do but sit and paint or draw
* hearing second-hand that your S.O.’s mom thinks you’re great
* fridays
* surrogate families
* healthy cuticles
* artsy silver jewelry
* meaningful tattoos
* adoring little brothers
* looking down at my legs, thinking “I don’t remember putting on pantyhose,” and then realizing I’m just tan

Jersey Shore Chronicles, Day 5

Jersey Shore Chronicles, Day 5 - Wednesday

Bill and I get up early to go to WaterWorks, the water park he’s been going to for years. It’s pretty big, but not quite as big as the water park we always drove by on our way through Wisconsin when I was little. I come to understand why Topher calls it “WedgieWorks”. Gah.

I realize that I am very old and very wimpy. There is one waterslide that goes STRAIGHT DOWN for probably fifty feet. A couple of years ago, I would have been on that in a minute. This time, just looking at it makes me sick to my stomach, and I ask Bill if we can’t just go on the ride where you sit in your tube and float around the outside of the park. This turns out to be my favorite ride of all.

After the waterpark, we go out for Lobster. A little backstory: The first time I ever met Bill’s family was the 4th of July weekend, 1999. This was our one-year anniversary, and they flew us out to Maryland for the weekend. The big important thing was that I had never had crab - and so the whole family taught me to properly crack open and eat a crab, while sitting at a newspaper-covered picnic table on a beach. Bill’s mom even bought me my own crab mallet. There are several pictures of me pretending to bite the crab in the face, etc etc. So, THIS time, two years later, we’re at this nice restaurant, all wearing our lobster bibs, and the waiter (Corey, who just graduated from Rutgers with a degree in Economics) brings me my lobster, with a big wooden bowl on top. I stare at the tail peeking out. I have a brief moment of “oh my god, what the hell am I doing”, but it passes. Until Bill’s dad says “Well, go ahead, take its hat off!” and I lift the bowl. Now, I don’t know about the rest of you, but for someone who has never eaten lobster before, removing that bowl and seeing all the legs and claws REACHING UP AT ME was a vaguely horrifying experience. (Before the lobster delivery, I had even braved the “steamers”, and so I was feeling pretty tough. No longer.) Bill’s father takes a picture of me staring at the lobster with a look of abject terror on my face.

Bill (under extreme durress from his family) begins to teach me how to properly disembowel this beast. However, I am one step ahead of him - I crack the tail, and the whole thing falls neatly onto my plate in one piece. Ta da! I eat the claws, I suck the meat out of the legs, I kick that lobster’s LITTLE RED ASS all over NEW JERSEY! Bill’s mom keeps saying “oh, Alicia, you’re such a good sport”, and the whole time I’m thinking “They’re taking me out for a really expensive meal, and I’m the one who’s getting praised for being a good sport?” For the record, lobster is officially my new favorite food. It’s DAMN good.

At this point, we rush back to the house… my watch is back on my wrist, and I catch up with time. We pack in about thirty seconds, and spring out the door. Matt and Alex are driving us back to the airport, and we need plenty of time to get lost in.

1:30 pm EST
We hop into the YakeMobile once again, and we’re off! I’m asleep within five minutes… the heat and the sun have sucked out any energy I have left.

3:15 pm EST
We are out of the car and checking our baggage. It’s amazing how quickly you can get somewhere when you don’t get lost a single time.

3:20 pm EST
We realize we don’t have Bill’s ticket. We panic. I mean, REALLY panic (or maybe that’s just me.) We go to wait in line.

3:30 pm EST
The nice lady behind the counter tells us that Bill’s ticket was really an e-ticket. I just got a paper version of mine because I got the frequent flier miles. Ah HA, we say, and breathe a sigh of relief. She prints our boarding passes and we are on our way. We get “I can’t believe it’s yogurt”, and sodas, and french fries, and sit at our gate.

5:00 pm EST
Our flight takes off, and we say goodbye to Phila Int’l Airport. Bill and I try to figure out which cell phone plan we’re going to get activated with his birthday checks.

7:02 pm MST
We land in Denver, and have just enough time to get subs and hop back on another plane. We forget to get gum, which stinks, since our ears are still plugged from the flight from Seattle to Chicago five days earlier.

7:59 pm MST
We take off from Denver… we fly through a LOT of turbulence (the butt end of a thunderstorm, a million clouds). The seatbelt light is on for the first 45 minutes of the flight, and Bill gets really sick. I don’t feel so good either.

9:45 pm PST
We have never been so glad to get off a plane in our whole lives. We feel like ASS. We are tired and cranky and sick and so very, very glad to be back on solid ground. Benlau is waiting for us at the airport with Zoe, our beloved car (whom he had been babysitting). We get the hell out of Dodge, and …

10:45 pm PST
when we get home, the dogs are so glad to see us that they practically herniate. They have, of course, eaten the notes that Julie and Jaye (the dogsitting goddesses) have left us. Finally, finally, we sleep, in our very own beds.

Jersey Shore Chronicles, Day

Jersey Shore Chronicles, Day 4 - Tuesday

Another full day at the beach. Topher and I spend a lot of time digging for sand crabs. I find beach glass, which Bill has assured me hardly exists anymore… it becomes Bill’s beach-day present. We go searching for a place to eat lobster, since I’ve never had it and everyone is convinced that I MUST EAT LOBSTER before I leave. After three failed attempts to find somewhere to eat lobster for lunch, we give up and get cheesesteak at Uncle Nick’s…. another food I just HAVE to have while I am out east. It’s pretty good, I guess. Everyone says it’s GREAT cheesesteak, but I don’t like the kind of cheese they used, and by the end I feel like I am drowining in mayonnaise.

Tuesday night is amazing. The “kids” (Bill, me, Topher, Patrick, Matt, Davis, and Matt’s friend Alex) go to Seaside Heights, the “scourge of the eastern seaboard”, as someone called it. Basically, it’s a maze of boardwalks full of rides and carnies. We get snowcones and funnel cakes and have our pictures taken in a booth. (I don’t have a scanner, but when I DO, I’ll put the booth-pics up. They’re really cute.) On our way home, we meet the BEST carnie ever. Here is the scenario that takes place:

We stop at a booth where you put your quarter on a letter/number and the guy spins the wheel and if it lands on your letter you win either a video game or a TINY TINY LITTLE BIKE. Bill and Matt and Alex and Topher put their quarters down…

Carnie (in THICK Jersey accent): What’s yuh name?
Topher: Topher.
Carnie: Tophuh? What kinda poison names their kid Tophuh?
Topher: It was my brother’s idea. (points to Patrick, who is standing a block away from us)
Carnie(to Patrick) : Hey, TOPHUH!!

Topher: No, I’m Topher.
Carnie: Who’s that then?
Topher: That’s Patrick.
Carnie (to Patrick): Hey, BALDWIN!!
Topher: No, that’s Patrick.
Carnie: Oh, sorry, I thought you said Baldwin.

Needless to say, Patrick instantly becomes Baldwin. And, for the record, this story is much funnier told by Bill than it is just typed out. You should ask him sometime.

We take the young’uns home, and Bill takes me back to the beach so I can see it at night. (Apparently, all day, his dad has been saying “So, you’re going to take her to the beach at night, right? Are you going to take Alicia to the beach at night? When are you going to show her the beach at night?” )

It is gorgeous We walk up the beach for awhile, and then just sit and talk. It’s cool out, and beautiful, and the noise the ocean makes crashing up on the beach is amazing. Bill has warned me that you will often see people having sex if you go on the beach at night. (un)Fortunately, there is no nookie going on tonight. Eventually, it starts to rain… I LOVE being out in the rain, but Bill doesn’t, so we go home…. but we DO sleep with the doors and windows open.

Jersey Shore Chronicles, Day

Jersey Shore Chronicles, Day 3 - Monday

This is my day for learning about the wonders and dangers of the Atlantic Ocean. I didn’t even go IN on Sunday, for which I was heartily scolded by just about everyone. OH - here is the head count so far.

Chip and Ellen Murray - Bill’s folks. They are AWESOME.
Patrick Murray - 17 ( I think?) He’s the “perfect child”… great grades, does school newspaper, runs track. VERY tall and gangly and buff. Probably the most self-conscious Murray child despite his jock status.
(Chris)Topher Murray - 14. The youngest and most… uh… energetic. Since the first time I met Topher (4th of July 1999) he has gotten IMMEASURABLY calmer. Topher loves me because I’m nicer to him than his brothers are.

Steve and Harriet Yake - Bill’s folks’ friends.
Matt Yake - 19. Going to Pratt in NYC for… something. I never quite caught it.
Davis Yake - 13. Seems like a spurned middle child, but surprisingly…. has no little siblings. It’s a mystery.
Alex ??? - Matt’s friend. Total stereotypical East-Coast surfer dude. Very cool.

Eileen and Brian Byrne - more of Bill’s folks’ friends.
Molly Byrne - 17. The musical theatre queen of New Jersey - is going into tech week for Carousel. Apparently all of the non-Bill boys spend the entire weekend trying to figure out how to hook up with her.
Nora Byrne - 11. TOTAL spurned middle child.
Johnny Byrne - aka “Johnny B” - 9 (but his mother says he’s really 7. He acts young.) Chubby and earnest.

SO, on Monday Bill and Topher try to teach me how to handle the ocean… jumping, diving through the BOTTOM of waves, not stepping on crabs, etc. Bill has been threatening to teach me to bodysurf, but before he gets the chance, Patrick grinds his face into the ocean floor doing it. He tears most of the skin off his nose and bleeds everywhere. It’s VERY gross.

I spend a lot of time swimming with Johnny B. At one point, we’re out in the water, and Bill/Patrick/Topher are screwing around in the water. Johnny makes a tsk-ing nose at them, and I say “Oh, those Murrays. They’re crazy.” Johnny gives me a very wise, pointed look, and says “Well, when you and Bill get married, you’ll be one of them.” I stare at this chubby little cherub with my mouth hanging open, and finally say “you mean, I’ll be a Murray?” and Johnny says “No, you’ll be crazy.” I turn away just in time to hide the fact that I am busting a gut and have tears running down my face. Don’t kids just say the darndest things?

Later, Johnny is swimming with Bill. He turns to Bill and says “Are you and Alicia engaged?” Bill pauses, re-collects, and says “Um, no…” at which point Johnny makes an “oh, no!” face and SMACKS himself in the forehead.

Monday is also Davis’ 14th birthday! So, we have cake for Davis and Bill and play full-contact Balderdash, which apparently means everyone is screaming at each other the entire time. The word “poop” somehow manages to figure prominently in several definitions. I fall asleep on the hammock thinking about how tense I am all the time - and how UNtense I’m feeling at the moment. I realize I haven’t been this un-stressed since grade school. I find that idea to be pretty exciting.

Jersey Shore Chronicles, Day 2

Jersey Shore Chronicles, Day 2 - Sunday

5:07 am CST
We arrive in Chicago. This is the closest I’ve been to home since April 2000. We hop off one plane (where I got to watch Someone Like You, which was so exciting it put me STRAIGHT to sleep) and …

6:00 am CST
get immediately on another one. We go back to sleep… sorta.

9:01 am EST
We arrive at Phila Int’l Airport (they can’t afford the letters to spell it out on any of the signs). By this point, I have been awake for nearly 22 hours. Matt Yake picks us up at the airport - he looks strangely like Kris Wralstad, a guy I kinda dated for a week my freshman year at St. Olaf… or maybe it’s just his hands. He is HELLAcool, and I am instantly de-stressed.

9:15 am EST
We get into the YakeMobile, and I instantly fall asleep. Bill and Matt proceed to get lost twice, which prolongs my nap. I’m awake just long enough to see a HUGE bridge out my window. I hear Bill and Matt trying to figure out where our turn is for the Ben Franklin Bridge. I wake up twenty minutes later to see that we have circled back and are on the bridge. I laugh at the stupidity of boys. I go back to sleep.

12:15 pm EST
We arrive in Seaside Park, New Jersey. Bill shows me the beach house his family has stayed at for years. He grumbles about getting stuck in a “beach apartment” this year.

12:20pm EST
We arrive at the “apartment”. It is HUGE BEYOND BELIEF. Wood floors, decks galore, hammock, hot tub, big screen tv, breakfast porch, etc etc. Excellent.

12:30pm EST
We stuff some food into our faces, rush into swimsuits and head for the beach, which is a block away. This is my first time seeing the ocean, and I am totally floored. There is sand EVERYWHERE, and water that goes on so far, all we see is the curve of the earth and the ocean disappearing into nothingness. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like growing up this way. At this point, I take my watch off. I don’t put it back on until the flight home… time has ceased to be important. I sit down on my beach chair, streeeeeeetch my toes way out into the sand… and doze off.

Yay, vacation.

Jersey Shore Chronicles, Day

Jersey Shore Chronicles, Day 1 - Saturday

6:35 pm PST
I leave home to see Twelfth Night at SCT. I have been frantically packing and cleaning and calling dog-sitters and doing laundry all day, and I am ready to shoot myself. Then, of course, I hit every red light all the way down Denny and get stuck behind a granny, next to a granny, in front of a granny. I am boxed in by grannies.

6:55 pm PST
I get to 2nd and Thomas with five minutes to spare… and have to drive around for ten minutes before I finally give up and park in the SCT loading dock. I miss the opening musical bit of the show. I feel bad for letting my boyfriend down by showing up late to see the closing night of the show he AD’d. Plus, I forgot my glasses, so I’m squinting the whole time. Stupid, stupid.

8:15 pm PST
I arrive home, and begin frantically packing and cleaning and panicking. We are picking up Benlau in an hour and a half. Jesus Christ this place is a mess… and why do the dogs insist on eating my feminine products?

8:30 pm PST
Bill arrives home. I put him to work. I ask him if I am allowed to leave my Velvet Rut script at home - and thankfully, he says yes. I stick it somewhere I don’t have to look at it while packing. Bill decides he needs Mike Janus’ phone number. He doesn’t have it. He discovers that I have Alex Moros’ phone number. He freaks out. He calls Alex. Alex is not home (by which I mean, he is not answering his cell.)

9:30 pm PST
We are not packed yet.
We are picking up Benlau in 15 minutes, supposedly.
Alex calls us.
Bill talks to him for 15 minutes.
I yell at Bill.
He gets off the phone.

9:45 pm PST
Benlau calls.
“You guys haven’t left yet?”

10:10 pm PST

We arrive at Benlau’s house.
Bill drives like a madman.
I realize I’ve left my glasses on the kitchen counter at home. sigh.

10:35 pm PST
We arrive at SeaTac.

11:30 pm PST
We climb on plane.
We are very tired, and this is only the beginning.

i’m useless, but not for

i’m useless, but not for long | the future is coming on

We’re back.
Now, everything is different.
I’m going to do things right this time.
Stay tuned.

close your eyes, trust in

close your eyes, trust in me

Hasta la vista, my fine feathered friends! Billy and I are off to cavort on a beach with his family. We will spend the next few days getting tan, reading, sleeping, swimming, and generally making total idiots of ourselves. (I’m only marginally freaked out by the whole thing. I love Bill’s family, they are just… a lot to process. Knowing Bill, I’m sure you know just exactly what I mean.) I highly doubt I’ll have any internet access, but I’ll post full updates when I return to work on Thursday.

Also, thank you thank you to Jaye Wilkinson and Julie Keenan for watching our babies. We love you both to death, thank you thank you! You are heroes among (wo)men, and we are totally taking you out to dinner. (Somewhere that isn’t McDonalds.) You rule.

confidential to self This being

confidential to self

This being able to post but not publish thing is really damn annoying.
Blogger hates you.

Mmmmmm. I mean, mmmmmmm. Cold

Mmmmmm. I mean, mmmmmmm.
Cold black bean (cooked with red onions) and spinach burrito.
Hot green tea.
Happy tummy. SO so happy.
Now, if only I could just take a little nap…

Please take a second to

Please take a second to look at this petition, and sign it if you agree with what it stands for. Thank you.

Oppose the Federal Marriage Amendment

a plea to the masses

a plea to the masses

Hey, would any of you lovely people like to watch our two charming canines while we’re in NJ this weekend? We’re leaving late Saturday, getting back late Wednesday. They need to go out four times a day, including one feeding. Don’t everyone shout at once! They’re yappy, but oh so cute, and we would pay you in lovebucks as well as maybe some real ones. Look at how cute they are. How can you possibly say no?

um. never mind. i found

um. never mind.
i found them.

All right, where the hell

All right, where the hell are the rest of my archives? Who took them? Who am I going to have to kill to get them back? I said some important stuff in April, dammit! Hello???!!!!

they were here this morning, i saw them…

what a difference a

what a difference a few years makes

Wow. Okay, so I stole some more high school pictures from some friends’ pages, and they are now in my IMSA folder on my webshots page. I also stole more pictures from friends and put up a new IMSA reunion folder. There are corresponding pictures of several people from ‘96 and ‘01 - most noticeable, Doug and Julia, who apparently like having their pictures taken together.

We’re getting old, kids.

Surprisingly enough, I look pretty similar to how I did back then - the “layered hair and bangs” look comes back for me every couple of years. It’s like bell-bottoms. I’m a bloody fashion boomerang.

huzzah! I just got a

huzzah!

I just got a whole new batch of reunion pictures up. (However, webshots apparently needs half an hour to “process” them.)
(Commentary coming soon.)

exciting thought of the moment

exciting thought of the moment

Benlau in one of “those bicycle wet-suits you have to wear.”

As Pamala would say, yowza.

maya, my intoxication | secret

maya, my intoxication | secret lullaby surrounds my soul

We had a …”visitor” this morning. This strangely adorable Chinese woman came into our office today, wearing khaki overalls, a sweatshirt, and sneakers. Her hair was really short and spiky, her skin was bad, and she had this huge grin on her face for no apparent reason. She was carrying a bottle of water and her left front pocket was bulging with something.

She comes in and says “My name is name withheld, I am sorry that I have no identification, I just want to make a point, this is only water in here, my pocket is full of papers I got from the bathroom, can I have a card, I need a business card.” This entire time, I am in the middle of some fairly detailed discussion with one of the company’s vendors about what may be a missing invoice. The A/R person I’m speaking with is growing frustrated, because she can hardly hear me over name withheld’s voice, and name withheld is pacing around the office, still talking, acting frustrated that I am not speaking with her. I manage to tell the A/R person that she should fax me another copy of the invoice, and I am finally off the phone. I give name withheld a business card, and she immediately says “Oh, are you name on business card?” I tell her that I am not, and she wants to know what my name is, and how to spell it, and what the name is of the person in charge of the office. I am wondering what the hell is going on.

Then, she looks at the huge poster inside the door, which says INITIALS OF COMPANY WITHHELD and name of company withheld. She asks what INITIALS OF COMPANY WITHHELD stand for, and I tell her. She giggles frantically for awhile. Then, she says “My name is name withheld, but I do not have any identification, this is just water, can I speak with boss’s name withheld please, I do not have a point, can I have some paper to write him a note please, I would like to talk about the incident at name of copying company withheld, and you can please tell him that I am here to speak with him, but if he does not have time that is fine, I do not have a point.” At this point, I realize that ‘point’ is actually ‘appointment’. I am only slightly less confused.

I give her a pad of paper, and she writes a note, and yells after me down the hallway (even as I am standing in the doorway speaking to the person she wants to see) that if he doesn’t want to talk to her it’s fine, she doesn’t have an appointment, if he would like to “make [her] call [him] back, that is also okay as well. I don’t have a point, and tell him I have no arms!”

He invites her into his office, but before she will come in, she says “I would like to speak with you, but first I want to write this down, it touches me, I am a writer, do you mind?” She sits in the entryway chairs and copies down what is written on the poster on the wall:

Finally, she finishes and goes into his office. She is there for a long time, speaking animatedly. At one point, my boss laughs - that loud, hearty middle aged man laugh. For awhile, there is (relative) silence. Meanwhile, I am pondering: we are the only people in the office. If the bump in her pocket is a gun (and not the paper towels she swore she stole from the bathroom) what the hell would I do? Would I have time to get to my walkie-talkie and call security? I wonder if the “water” is the only thing she’s had to drink today. At this point, I hear her sobbing in his office, still talking LOUDLY, and I begin to panic. Then, for awhile, I hear nothing.

When she comes out, she is grinning broadly and holding my boss’s card, as well as the TWO she insisted I give her earlier. She trots past me, saying “Goodbye, LADY!”, and slams out the door. I sit there for a moment, dazed, at which point I hear this exhausted-sounding laughter from my boss, who is sitting alone in his office. He comes out and says “I know you tried to clue me in that she was a little… [pause] … but I just didn’t catch it. She had cards from most of our tenants, she’s been wandering the building trying to find someone to talk to.”

Apparently, she was in the other part of our building - which is really two buildings that are sort of attached, so I can see why she might have been confused. She was using a computer at name of copy company withheld and put her head down to take a nap, and they kicked her out. She was convinced they did it because she was Asian, and she wanted to make a complaint about it. She was so upset about it that she cried in front of my boss, even after he told her that he had nothing to do with it. She kept on telling her story as if she hadn’t even heard him. And he - because he is an incredibly kind-hearted, gentle man, kept talking to her. I really respect that. I don’t know what I would have done.

Confidential to benlau invest in

Confidential to benlau

invest in a bike, yo.