living vicariously

See Mary Jane.
See Mary Jane burn.

See Nicole.
See Nicole burn.

See the cage.
See the cage burn.

Burn, cage! Burn!

artful procrastination

Y’know, that dream I was predicting? It would probably look something like this.

is it friday yet?

Benlau is taking a break. I am torn between not wanting him to go and wanting to take a break myself. Have a nice trip. I know you won’t be emailing, and you won’t be blogging, but if you feel a brief moment of longing for anything on this side of the ocean and you happen to be near somewhere that has postcards, that would be good too. Maybe I’ll just sit and watch this all day to fill the void.

Zach got his hair bleached (which was apparently very painful) and dyed last night. It is now midnight blue with teal streaks, and it is very, very beautiful. I watched this happen while we (unsuccessfully) brainstormed ideas for Pizza Night, and then we (along with N.G. and Sjet) watched a Bill Hicks video back at the “Phat Pad”, which is apparently the unofficial name of the ’70s pimp-palace where the boys live. (“Twitching pink bunny nose”. What else can I say.)

I got home and discovered that someone had left me a silly message about cookies. The message had a lot of screaming and odd noises in it. And then, I suspect, they left cookies at my door - since I woke up this morning and found cookies. Hmmm………

{I predict that tonight, I will dream of Giraffes and Elephants leaving cookies on my doorstep in the middle of the night. Jeremy will be Giraffe and Yuki will be Elephant. They will somehow know, through animal intuition, that Lemur’s favorite cookie is macadamia nut. It will be like art imitating life, sorta.}

praise you like i should

Thank you - you know who you are. You who called me last night to see if I was still feeling down and to offer support and candy. I would have picked up the phone to tell you that you were the bee’s knees, but I was in the bathtub reading, strangely enough, a book I bought at the U Village B’n’N the other day. A book about the trials and tribulations of a woman who’s recently gotten engaged. A book which cost the exact amount that my bank account is currently overdrawn. Of course, as I was reading, I was feeling worse and worse - and I was imagining the alternate universe where B— and I are currently engaged and going through the same problems, and I was questioning every life decision that I’ve made in the past few months, and I was questioning all the choices I’m going to make in the future, and I was wondering if it was worth it. I got out, crawled into my big fluffy bathrobe that B— gave me for Christmas a couple of years ago, and trudged out to the living room to listen to my answering machine message. And then, for some reason, everything seemed okay again. So, in case I haven’t mentioned it yet, thank you. (You are also the cat’s pajamas.)

love is in the air

It looks like someone just got laid.

fat fat revolution

Here are a couple of catch-up pictures from the other day … when I was at Mike’s the other day (was it yesterday?) to watch him clean, I attacked Grunk with Raoul. Twice. Okay, three times. Plus, I got really confused by some donuts.

Okay, that’s enough of that. Today, we went to the Microsoft Company Picnic! I got covered in grass, met Martin (Jeremy’s Harvard Roommate), and finally got to hang out with the famous Eric and Elaine. Among other things, we played cowboys and astronauts, and I did a brief stint as the Statue of Liberty. Elaine was bad-ass and climbed a mini-mountain , and then took a cold shower.

Soon, we got tired of the picnic scene, and came back to the casa de Kim. I decided that it was about time to finally test-drive the “Krispy Shot”, a creation I thought up in response to Jet’s “Royale with Fat”. The RwF is (theoretically) a Fatburger with two Krispy Kreme donuts replacing the buns. The “Krispy Shot” was my idea - stick a shot of vodka inside a donut and use it as a chaser. Here I am with the first incarnation … proudly displaying the shot while Mike cowered in the corner. Isn’t it pretty? Mike approached it with more trepidation. Confusion, even. But in the end, he took it like a man.

At this point, we decided that the “Krispy Shot” might taste better with whiskey, so we tried that instead. This one we took as a simul-shot. Here we are saying “aaah!”

Now, everyone’s playing “Dance Dance Revolution”… we’re all full and tired and tipsy and slightly sunburned … and it’s been a glorious, glorious day.

about that damn time

Another whole week already. There’s been quite a flurry of activity (both real-time and virtual) this week, so make sure you’ve read everything!

And now, for your reading pleasure, the Friday Five!

1. How long have you had a weblog?
Since May 4th, 2001. Strangely enough, my very first blog entry ever was … a collection of Top 5 Lists, since Bill was in this “High Fidelity“-obsessed phase at the moment.

2. What was your first post about?
Oop, already answered this. Next!

3. How many changes (name, location, etc.) of your weblog have there been, if more than one?
Only two actual locations, but many, MANY names. At first I was at sleepingpants.blogspot.com, and then I was at scylla.blogspot.com, and then I moved over to aliciadawn.com. As for titles, I only wish I could remember them all. Recently, I was some other beginning’s end and before that I was these endless days are finally ending in a blaze {and we will walk through the fire} and before that I was I will not watch the ocean … I dig those obscure song-lyric-based titles. OH - and at another point I was BOON MEE!!! due to a late-night sleepy conversation wherein I discovered that I shared a high school alma mater with someone named Boon Mee. It was only funny because I was tired.

4. What CMS (content management system) do you use? Do you like it or do you want to try something else?
I started out with Blogger, which I really liked. It suited my needs - I wanted something free and relatively simple, and I didn’t want to have to host it myself. Now, I’m using Moveable Type, which is wonderful. Yuki convinced me to move over - and with Mickey and Jet (and whoever else is in charge of the BIGBOX) they’re kind enough to host me. As for MT, it’s a breeze.

5. Do you read people who have both a journal and a weblog? Or do you prefer to read people who have all of their writing in one central place?
Hm. Everyone whose blog I read keeps it all in one place - that is, of course, with the exception of Benlau. He’s got this one as well, and I don’t mind reading two. Mostly because he’s so darn funny.

of flora and fauna

Here I am at Yuki’s, because I was bored and she invited me over to watch her clean. You might think that Seattle to Issaquah is a long way to drive just to sit around and watch someone clean - and you would be correct. Luckily for me, Yuki isn’t cleaning. She’s making up a song on the guitar about how Grunk’s goatee is brainwashing her to kill people. It’s just as fascinating as it sounds.

Here are the lyrics to her current song:

“Ernie is a party girl
Ernie likes to bowl
Ernie likes to say….
I’ll swallow your soul.”

Plus, I stole more pictures.

“Woke up this morning to find a tongue in my ear
Now I can’t close my eyes out of fear
Why’d you have to come here
to stick your tongue in my ear?”

This kid never gives up.

“I want to give you a uvula massage
and to your virginity we say ‘Bon Voyage!’”

So, the other night we went and ate steak at Jak’s. There were flowers on the table, and we were feeling frisky.

“What’s that scarf on your neck?
What the heck?
Everyone thinks it makes you look gay.
That and the raping of animals in the night
Everyone thinks it’s such a scary sight.”
(This one was about my rat Raoul getting it on with her teddy bear.)

Ernie and Flower - Me and Flower - Grunk and Flower

“I want to love you so hard
that your liver explodes
I want to take you back home
and strap on the electrodes.”

This was the first real “IMSAMob” occasion, so we took a picture of that. Then, this random guy (we think his name was Steve?) decided that he wanted to be in the picture too. Note the “Who the hell are you?” look on my face.

“I am your G-Man
I want to play with your G-spot
I’m gonna pull down your G-string
I wanna see what you’ve G-got!”

Then, I took this picture, just because I thought it was funny. It’s Franvas and Mike Lee eating sushi and looking pissed. It kind of looks like Mike’s got thorns growing from his head a la Jesus.

“Misery loves company
and apathy loves entropy
I’m a mariachi and
Oh, crap. Here, Brian. YOU try this.”

sunrise, sunset

Here are the less offensive pictures from bowling, courtesy of Yuki.
(I WILL post about the past couple of days, eventually. I promise.)

Ben and Sonya - Ernie and Dan - Ernie surrounded by girls - Grunks #1 and #2 - The IMSA Mob - Mike is Spent - Sonya and Zach - Stacy and Ben - Stacy and Ernie - Stacy, Ernie, Me

make new friends, but keep the old

felines in the fast lane - a tribute

This is for Sonya, who had a scary experience - and for Ernie, who reminded me.

I wrote this in sixth grade, while incredibly constipated. I knew I was going to be on the toilet for awhile, and I was bored, so I decided to write a poem.

i had visions i was in them i was looking into the mirror

Ernie is here. I haven’t seen Ernie since I left Minnesota, back in August of 2000. It had been far too long … and thank god, nothing has changed. Ernie is one of the maybe five friends in my life that I know will be with me for as long as I’m around. It’s nice to have friends like that. I realized last night that I’ve known him for eight years. That seems like a long time. Our lives, in many ways, have run parallel paths - enough so, at least, that Ernie is the only friend I have who always tells it to me like it is, even when I don’t want to hear it. Especially when I don’t want to hear it. And I like to delude myself that I serve the same purpose for him. I fucking love this kid, and I want everyone to meet him - before Thursday, when he hops on a plane and is once again missing from my life.

This weekend was so busy. First of all, we had 14/48 on Friday and Saturday. This particular installment featured several of the most brilliant strokes of casting genius that you will ever find in this city - first and foremost (in my mind, at least) was Imogen Love as the Wicked Witch of the West. You can’t beat that! Shawn Belyea was the gayest Cowardly Lion in the world (script by Basil Harris). I didn’t know he wrote, and I was so enchanted with the whole thing. Our very own Tim Sanders wrote a couple of gems too - his piece on Saturday night was really beautiful. Very bittersweet and touching, with a star turn by Chuck Leggett in the role of a trapeze-flying chimpanzee. Zach was a hog-riding lesbian mama … ask him sometime to show you the remote control thing. He’ll know what you mean.

At 14/48, I learned that Sean Nelson (local actor/singer type) was the lead singer for Harvey Danger. (You remember “Flagpole Sitta”, right?) It freaked me out. I was so obsessed with that song for awhile …. he’s a pretty charismatic singer in person. As the Baron (Von K., not Von S.) pointed out, his voice seems untrained, but there’s something about the voice and onstage personality that makes him incredibly compelling to watch, even as part of the 14/48 band. Very interesting.

Here’s my shout-out to My Special Girl, who returned triumphantly to the stage after a year-long hiatus. You were the best saggy Jewish straight man you could be, and I was so proud. Welcome back.

Saturday was wonderful. We spent the whole day (Sonya, Benlau, and I even spent some night!) at the casa de Zulauf. It was just like last summer - the best and only way to really relax and get your life-worries off your mind is to spend twelve hours in the sun drinking beer and swimming with people you love. I learned Punto from GtothaJ, swam to the buoy with Pamala, threw Piper into the lake (she swam! I couldn’t believe it!), slept in the sun. By the end of the day I was exhausted, but so happy. (Thanks, big Z.) Also, I spent about thirty seconds on the Ellipse machine thingy, and my butt was sore for two days.

i want all of ur balls to die

{Editor’s note: I know this was posted by Yuki awhile back, but just in case you didn’t see it, here it is.}

First, go here. Look around. Prepare yourself.

Then, go here. Try not to fall out of your chair.

something old, something new

And now, for a new blog tradition - it’s not new, but dammit, it’s new to me. (Courtesy of the Friday Five.)

1. Where were you born?
Somewhere about halfway between Mattoon and Charleston, Illinois, at Sarah Bush Lincoln Health Center.

2. If you still live there, where would you rather move to? If you don’t live there, do you want to move back? Why or why not?
I hated living in Charleston. My father was the clarinet professor at Eastern Illinois University, and that’s why we lived there. I skipped second grade, and from that point on I was lucky if there were more than two people at a time that I could call friends. I had a different best friend every year. I didn’t really connect with anyone - the town itself was mostly white, mostly fairly ignorant, mostly conservative. The kids from Charleston High School all funneled into either EIU or Lakeland. The popular kids were the rich kids, and the smart kids were only ever popular if they were also rich and pretty. A friend of a friend was accidentally outed my freshman year of high school, and several football players drove out to his house, dragged him out into a field, and beat the holy hell out of him. I couldn’t stand it anymore, so after my freshman year I escaped and went to IMSA. I was 14. I’ll never go back for more than just a visit, not even if you paid me. I love my family, but the town just feels empty and unhappy. There’s really no artist culture there - nobody who’s living life passionnately and on the edge because they either have to live that way or die. Everything’s very calm and settled and middle-class and mid-western. No offense to my family or all the people who live there, but I don’t ever want to live like that. On top of which, I love Seattle. It feels more like home than Charleston or Aurora or Northfield ever did … and considering how much I loved Northfield, that’s saying a lot.

3. Where in the world do you feel the safest?
That’s a good question. It’s been a long time since I’ve really felt safe. The doors are always being left unlocked in my current house, and since on top of that my housemates are relative strangers, I never really feel “safe” in my house. With all the sirens flickering street lights and crazy people yelling, I don’t think I ever felt safe, per se, in my Capitol Hill apartment … and god knows I wasn’t safe when we lived in Belltown. There are only so many times you can call 911 before you give up. Okay, this one gets a two-part answer. Recently: Sleeping on the floor with Maurice the teddy bear at Yuki’s house. Before: Second semester of my senior year at St. Olaf, I had Room 302 as a single in Rand (my favorite dormitory on campus - check out the floor plan.) The room was enormous, with a tall ceiling and a wall of window that led out to the soccer fields, and I adored that room. I lived there for five months, two of which I had mono, and despite being miserable, it was my fortress. With the door locked and the windows open to watch the sunset from the depths of my quilt, nobody could touch me. That was safe.

4. Do you feel you are well-traveled?
Um, no. Not really. The summer between my sophomore and junior years of high school, I did a European tour with the Illinois Ambassadors of Music (essentially, everyone who’d been first or second chair at EIU’s band camp in the previous couple of years was invited.) We did London, we did Paris, we did Liechtenstein, we did Luxembourg, we did Switzerland, we went all over the place. We played concerts, we explored the cities, we rode ski lifts, we bought Swiss Army knives. It was a pretty amazing experience. But, it was only two weeks long, and god knows there are places I still need to see. At the moment, I don’t have a passport, so I can’t even go bowling in Canada with Ernie this weekend. Sigh.

5. Where is the most interesting place you’ve been?
Morgins, the sleepy little city we stayed in while we were in Switzerland. It was right on the French/Swiss border, up on the side of a mountain. Surrounded by the most amazing scenery I’d ever seen, and a half hour ride up the mountain from the nearest town below, zig-zagging while your ears popped. In the middle of the town, there was a ski-lift that took you to the top of the mountain, where you could sit and get licked in the head by friendly roaming calves. It was really pretty amazing, and someday (when I’m tired of this working thing) I think maybe I could retire somewhere like that. So peaceful. That would be nice.

the sky is falling

I had a really excellent (and altogether terrifying) evening … well, it didn’t start off so terrifying. To begin with, I am just sitting at home, eating my Special K dinner, and watching a crappy old episode of Buffy. (You know, the one where she’s just come back from being “Anne” and the mask her mom has on the wall wakes up all of these zombies, including the dead cat they found in the basement? And then the mask posesses her mom’s annoying friend “Pat” during Buffy’s welcome-back party? Right. That one.) The phone rings, and it’s Sonya! She says something to the effect of “Hey, sugartoes! How would you like to play Trivial Pursuit with me and Patrickt?” You can not say no to someone who calls you sugartoes. You can NOT.

I vaguely remember that Zach should be back from Lithuania, so I ask Sonya for his number and give him a call at his parents’ place. I’m so happy to hear his voice that I practically mess my pants. I tell him to meet us at Jack’s Roadhouse on Capitol Hill, and hang up the phone. Then, I call Mike. Now, I know that he will not know any of my crazy Annex friends, but they’re all nice and I think he’ll like them, and plus, I know he likes Trivial Pursuit. He’s still at WORK, and he sounds really frustrated with what he’s working on. So, I tell him gently (but firmly) that he needs to get his sorry ass out of there and come play with us. And that no is not an acceptable answer.

As I’m driving toward Jack’s, I realize that I’m going to have to park near my old apartment building. This rarely happens, and it’s always rather difficult. A flashback to what now seems to me to be simpler, younger days … I know I was very unhappy here a lot of the time, but for some reason, the memories that come back are happy ones, and that makes even the simple process of driving around the block to find a space a rather bittersweet one.

I drive by Jack’s, and I wave, and I wave, and I wave at Sonya. I make moon eyes at her from the car, I blow her kisses, and she totally blows me off. When I get there, she is deeply entrenched in the job of burning the holy hell out of her mouth on her chicken-fried steak. I get myself a soda, and sit back to have a smoke with Patrickt. (I told him last night that it’s so comforting to me to have him around, since normally when I’m hanging out with this particular faction of the Annex ladies, I’m the only one who’s smoking, and it always makes me feel a little weird. A little … deviant, as it were.) So, we’re sitting, we’re smoking, we’re sipping, we’re chewing, when suddenly CRASH! The beer-emblem lamp which was screwed to the ceiling above our heads has come CRASHING down onto the table, not six inches from Sonya’s nose. She yells out “FUCK ME!”, which - considering the circumstances - is a perfectly valid thing to say. We all take a moment to re-learn to breathe, our hearts pouding … and I start laughing. It’s that sort of terrified post-heart attack kind of laughing, and I am having a damn hard time stopping. The waitresses all rush over - they’re all terrified, they’re so sorry, they can’t believe it … everyone in the restaurant is looking at us in awe, and I can not stop laughing. Every few minutes I manage to stop, and it starts up again. The general manager comes over as we’re leaving and gives us all hand-written notes saying that we get a free entree for our harrowing experience. Sonya has a hard time tabulating a tip on her receipt, so after several failed attempts, she scribbles it out and writes “I can’t think, something just fell on me!”

We call Mike and Zach to inform them of our change in location, and we head to Casa de Patrickt. I play with the Satan-Cat and marvel at the fact that his apartment building does, in fact, look like a penitentiary. Sonya and I discuss whether you can pop a little hole in a window with a marble. A few minutes later, Pamala shows up. We go inside, where we raid Patrickt’s books. He’s moving to NYC to go to grad school at Sarah Lawrence, that lucky bastard. As such, I end up with free copies of The Fountainhead, Equus, Nausea, and The Fall. Shortly after, Mike arrives, looking haggard, and I feel good about rescuing him from his work-induced hell. Mike, Gillian, and I are on one team, and Sonya, Pamala, and Patrickt are on the other team. When Zach finally arrives, we all nearly herniate. He’s wearing a walnut-y colored corduroy jacket, and he looks kind of like a big teddy bear. I tell him so. He rolls a 2, so he ends up on the other (i.e. not mine) team.

At this point, I should probably explain the names. Now, I’m not sure how the names work. One team was the bitch-whores, and one was the slutrags. However, both terms were used by everyone, so nobody really knows. After awhile, Tim came over, and was the final member of our team. We kicked ass on the first game, despite the fact that I was terrified of Patrickt and his infinite sports knowledge. However, we made out like bandits. I got to use the phrase “Fuck you, Zulauf, I didn’t miss you that much” (when I spilled our pie pieces out and he told me we had to start over). We learned that the answer to every Emperor question (including “Whose name meant ‘Little Boot’?”) is Caligula, and that if there’s a question saying “Who broke Hannukah Harry’s 1905 record in 1907?”, the answer is probably Hannukah Harry. Oh, and Merry Krishmas. That’s all I’m going to say.

The next game, we did not do so well. In fact, we lost by a whole pie piece. But, all in all, it was an excellent way to spend the evening, and I ended up with free books AND dinner. Both of which are good things. Plus, I really love bringing together friends from different spheres of my life … I’ve never been able to quite discern why, but I felt really good about it last night.

This morning - not so good. My housemates woke me up at seven by LOUDLY moving furniture and yelling back and forth across the house to each other. I got back at them by angrily hitting my snooze button (with pillows jammed into my ears) for two hours. Finally, I looked at the clock, and said “Hunh. I’m supposed to be at work in five minutes. ” I ran to the shower, drove like a maniac to get here, and was half an hour late. Then, they didn’t have any bagels left at Starbuck’s, and I spilled coffee all over my light-colored pants. I’m guessing this is not going to be my day.

in other news

Some more quiz fun, courtesy of Emode.

***

YOU ARE CLOSE to finding “the one!” We have carefully calculated your responses according to our scientific formula and harmonized the results to the Venutian lunar calendar. But don’t get your hopes up to hear those wedding bells soon, because your bridesmaid days aren’t over just yet.

YOU WILL BE MARRIED BY: Saturday, September 10, 2005.

***

Your theme song is “Independent Woman!”

You could fit right in with Charlie’s Angels themselves. Maybe you’re balancing school, sports, and a job. Or maybe you’re seriously thinking about your career. Any way you slice it, you are a modern woman. You’re a lass with sass, and plenty of sauce. Some of your girlfriends might not understand why you pay your own way on dates sometimes. But it makes sense to you. You can’t be categorized by the usual labels. Hey, you’ve got your priorities straight and being dependent on someone all of the time is not one of them. And while strangers might be surprised enough to say, “Girl I didn’t know you could get down like that,” no one else is, ‘cause you’ve proven your righteousness time and time again.

***

Your lucky number is Four

As a 4, you’re no stranger to melodrama. What’s that? Are those violins playing gently in the background? And like all good performers, you are in touch with a variety of your inner characters. You’ve got all the angst of an early ’90s garage band, but fortunately it fuels your creative urges and helps you relate to others. When your friends aren’t giving you a standing ovation, they’re sharing their feelings because you really listen. 4s have an inner Vasco De Gama of sorts, as they fearlessly explore uncharted emotions within. As a Romantic, you enjoy emotion whether it’s watching a sappy John Hughes film for the 20th time since high school or pursuing that mysterious lover who doesn’t know you exist. But be careful - ending a relationship of any kind might send you straight into a depression you oblige with a healthy dose of Peter Gabriel or Enya. At your best, you can harness your emotions like few others to produce unique expressions of yourself. Your need to “feel” might lead you to commit risky acts that could hurt you. But trusting your self-knowledge gives you an advantage that others lack.

***

by the way, yes by the way

What Egyptian Deity are you? go to:the quiz!

Quizzes, Quizzes everywhere…

but this one’s just a little different…

Take my Quiz on QuizYourFriends.com!

In other news, Gene has a blog! Congratulations, Gene. May your blog not wither and die.

Ernie and Christopher’s Big Tour (tm) has been cancelled, because Christopher has mono. Yes, it’s very sad. Yes, we wish him the best. and … YES, Ernie will STILL BE VISITING SEATTLE. That will be happening this coming weekend, sorta … who wants to hang out with me and Ernie? Depending on plans and availability, there are many possibilities. He’s getting in on Sunday and leaving on Thursday, so there will be plenty of time for you all to come to my (currently empty, due to everyone moving out and taking the furniture with them) house and say hello. Especially you crazy IMSA kids who are in the area … and you know who you are.

By the way, Sarah - your comments posted fine the last couple of times. Check them out! I don’t know what the problem is, but they’re coming through just fine. (Silly technology.)

Current Music: Blood Makes Noise, Suzanne Vega
Current Mood: “It tastes like burning!” (My coffee was too hot. Dammit.)
Current Gripe: My dog ate one of my bras this weekend. Sigh.

i don’t want to hear it | get rid of it soon

Had another one of those “What the fuck am I doing with my life?” moments last night. I was wandering around Target (where, for the record, I found those ever-elusive jeans that make my ass look so good) and I see someone who looks … sort of … familiar? We do that walking towards each other - staring at each other - turning around - walking backwards away from each other - thing, until finally she says “Hey, did you go to St. Olaf?” We realize that I’m wearing my St. Olaf tank top, we laugh, she says “Well, of course you went to St. Olaf. Um…” and we stare at each other, puzzled, trying to figure out why the hell we look so familiar.

She holds out her hand to shake mine and says “I’m Kari… Kari Lintner?” I shake hers and say “Alicia”… and am frantically racking my brain. We play that “Do you know so-and-so? How ‘bout what’s-her-name?” game for awhile, until I finally say “Jenn Boocks?” and her face lights up. Jackpot. My darling Jennifer Laurel Boocks - whose wedding to Jim Kroschel I will be in next summer - was probably the most conservative of my friends in college. Very studious, triple (?) major, paid for pretty much her whole damn college education herself. The most motivated, responsible person I’ve ever known - the rock to my balloon. Kari was sort of - at the other end of Jenn’s group, so I knew her only vicariously. She was dating a guy named Jeff (I think), who she married last summer. She fit the St. Olaf student stereotype far better than I did … long hair, conservative clothes, good work ethic, good grades, respectable friends. She and Jeff are living out the perfect Northwest Yuppie Dream Life… already married and settled in their early-mid-20s, with reasonably well-paying (and yet meaningful) jobs (she works at WashPirg). Self-Sufficient and Slick while still being All-American and Earnest and Honest and Respectable … she was buying one of those miniature barbecues for what I imagined to be her perfect house. That was just the icing on the cake.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Kari is and always has been a very nice person, and I’m happy for her. It just makes me wonder if it’s really worth it for me to be doing what I’m doing here. All the struggling and fighting and swimming against the tide, and what does it mean? Where does it really get me? At the moment, it’s kinda feeling like nowhere. I’m old enough to be an adult - or at least I should be - and yet my dreams and my aspirations and my future is still so nebulous. I’m sitting in limbo, waiting for something to happen to me. Sometimes I really wish I’d been one of the Karis of the world - maybe things would have been so much easier. Now, when I’m rehearsing or performing I feel very differently about all of this. When I’m actually working on a project, I feel like nobody in the world is living a more fulfilling life than I am. The only problem is - after a few months of downtime, my resolve starts to weaken, and suddenly I don’t know what the point is anymore. So, to lift my spirits, here’s another poll. Enjoy.

1. Why should anyone bother being an artist if it’s going to be so hard?

2. Tell me why I should not be jealous of Kari and Jeff.

3. What fulfills you in a career? In a hobby?

4. What’s the most important trait in a friend?

5. What do you do to renew your spirit when you start to feel defeated?

no you’re never gonna get it (not this time)

Well, look what I just discovered.



Hallelujah.

she doesn’t want to grow up ‘til much, much later

Two posts in one day! I’m a marvel of modern blogging!

Inspired by the Wendy Ip CD I’m listening to at the moment … a quiz! I’d be much obliged if my reading public would participate. Thankee kindly.

1. When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up? How many times has that changed? Did you end up even close?

2. Did you have imaginary friends as a child? What were they?

3. {This one is for my dad.} In your opinion, what’s the difference between a duck?

4. If you were going to be stranded on a desert island and could only take ONE of each thing to last the rest of your life, what CD would you bring? What movie? What book? What friend?

5. Which year of your life so far was the best year of your life? Why?

6. Which one was the worst? Why?

does a little dance, makes a little love

Gene is coming to visit this weekend! Hm. This may change some plans a bit. I haven’t seen this guy in … years. (How many years, Gene?) In any case, it’s been way too long, and this weekend he will grace us with his presence. Hurrah!

I can’t believe I forgot this earlier … last Friday was the surprise birthday party for your sweetheart and mine, Matthew Middleton. God, I love that guy. He’s one of those people that I’m FAR more fond of than our friendship merits (i.e. I don’t know him well enough to love him nearly as much as I do, and I can’t quite figure it out.) He’s Aimee’s best friend, and we first met while doing Orgasmo waaaaay back last fall. He was my “orderly” for the “hooker in an electric chair” piece (that’s not actually what it was, but it’s what Greg Bagdasarian called it). He came out at the beginning of the piece to strap me in and put my headset on, and every night he stayed backstage for the entire twenty minutes of it - just to make sure he could come save me if the headset fell off. Every night, I’d finish and go offstage, and there he’d be. Of course, the headset never fell off for the entire five-week run … until closing night. I felt it start to slip (the cord had caught on a nail) and panicked - and prayed that he was still back there. And, of course, he was … I started yelling “Orderly? Hello? A little help?” and I have never been so glad to see someone in my entirely life. In any case, I forgot where the surprise party was… I THOUGHT it was supposed to be at Satellite, but of course it wasn’t, and the only person I knew to call was Aimee, who was WITH him. Gah. I felt horrible - I thought I’d ruined the whole thing - but Aimee’s a pro, and she covered it. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who called her … she got TEN calls while she was with him. That made me feel a little better. In any case, he walked into the Rosebud and a look of sheer, unmitigated terror overtook his face, and I knew it was okay. Happy Birthday, Matt, you sexy beast! Everybody loves you.

I saw my housemate’s boyfriend naked the other night. I wasn’t going to write about it, but … someone suggested it … so I thought, what the hell. I was coming home from seeing MIIB and eating pie with Mike and Jeremy. I walk into my house at about midnight, set down my bag, look up … and there, perfectly framed in the kitchen door, is a man with the body of a greek god - brown as a berry, long flowing blonde hair and beard, eyes big as saucers, and mouth open so wide it’s practically touching the floor. (Okay, his mouth wasn’t THAT open, because then it would have covered some stuff. Y’know.) I catch his eye, he freezes, he walks the other direction. Yes, friends, I saw THE WHOLE DAMN THING. During the seemingly endless moment where we both STOOD there, his girlfriend (my housemate, Julie) had wandered into the kitchen and was standing and staring at both of us. It was quite possibly the most bizarre few seconds of my life. I barely made it to my room before busting a gut laughing. Of course, I told my afternoon boss about it - she’s super-cool, and we talk about weird sex stuff all the time. (She’s exactly the same age as my mother, which could make the sex-talk thing weird, but it doesn’t. We have an odd, wonderful relationship. Emphasis on the odd.) SHE thought I should have walked up to him and made some snide comment … since it’s in Doug’s nature to always be teasing and ribbing and pushing people’s buttons. We discussed various comment options, such as “Do you know how unsanitary that is? Get out of the kitchen with that thing!” etc etc.

On another note, college kids are retarded. I was at the University Village Starbucks last night, reading a trashy novel I’d picked up at B’n’N, and I was surrounded by them. All of these UW students in their expensive jeeps, joyriding drunkenly around the parking lot, screaming at each other. I wanted to throw up. We weren’t like that in college, were we? For the love of God?! Strangely enough, the part of the book I was reading dealt heavily with how much these women hated modern twenty-somethings (in the form of club kids in New York), and I was strangely inclined to echo the sentiment. I mean - okay. I’m a twenty-something. But I find very little connection of any sort between myself and these people. I wasn’t exactly a square in college - but the drunken fratboy fraternizing in the expensive cars in the mall parking lot was not part of my experience. Who knows. Maybe my disgruntled stoner friends were just as annoying as the kids I was hating last night. I probably just lack perspective.

Any final tattoo design submissions? I’m getting itchy, kids. It’s going to happen soon… send in any final submissions by this weekend! Maybe that would be a fun tourist thing for Gene to do while he’s here. Watch me get a tattoo. (Just kidding… sorta.)

My Old, Arthritic Dog Loves Me

If you checked out the Blank White Cards page, you may have seen a card I drew about my first, sweetest, oldest dog. So, to give you some means of comparison, here is a picture of Mairi and Teddy. Mairi is the granddaughter of my mother’s best friend - she lives in Scotland and was visiting for the summer. The real Teddy is much cuter than my drawing.

This is by no means a diss to my current persnickety, neurotic, adorable dog. I’m just paying some homage to those who came before her.

Of new beginnings, of cabbages and kings

Hello, Liz. This is the chica I didn’t want to link to yet just a few days ago … and her latest entry, it seems, just proves the point that people can be connected without being physically close. Welcome to the fold, darling. We’re glad to have you!

Also, Mike got the Blank White Cards page updated last night. Check out our artwork! It’s purty.

As some of you might notice, I’ve shifted my links a bit … people who hadn’t posted in ages are suddenly posting again, and people who started out promising are spending their time on other things. And, of course, some of you are just too poetic and talented and consistent and prolific for words. As such, the order will continue to shift, to change my mood. Y’know.

{Confidential to Molly: Which property management company? Who are you working with? I temped for property management for a long, long time (about seven months in all - it’s a long time comparatively) and would love some dirt on what company is courting my fair Mol. They tried to get me to stay permanently as well…}

Like, Freaky Deaky

Ahh, four-day weekends. The only time one can safely reveal one’s true level of idiocy and have enough time to recover from it before going back to work. I had a thoroughly fantastic weekend … Saturday and Sunday were just as good as Thursday and Friday, despite not being national holidays. Who knew?

{Editor’s note: Please check out all the pictures I’ve linked to - I spent a long time doing it, and otherwise I’ll get snippy. Also, you can alter the pictures from “Fit Window” to “Normal Size” or “Large” to see them in better detail.}

Saturday Night:
Nothing is happening. I am bored. I stop watching the “E! True Hollywood Story” about Beverly Hills, 90210 and go to the computer. I hop on the Scribble server, and start chatting with Mike about how I’m bored and we should go do something. We decide that we (and his friend Jeremy) are going to go see Minority Report, and then maybe - just maybe - go bowling. Mike comes to pick me up (‘cause he’s a nice guy). Here is the obligatory picture of me with my new haircolor, to placate everyone who is far away. We want to go to Shari’s, but we don’t have time before the movie, so we go to Toxic Hell. Here is the scenario:

On our way into the parking lot, we are joking about “Le package totale” and those crazy Iron-Chef-esque commercials. There’s a sign for it in the window, so we decide to give it a try. Mike swaggers up to the counter, spreads his arms wide, and in his best Pierre (the French Fighter Pilot) voice, exclaims “I’ll have Le Package Totale!” The woman at the counter stares at him as if (and I quote) he had grown three heads. She says “What?” and he starts frantically back-peddling. “Um … the chicken bowl? That’s what they call it … in the commercials … ?!?!” The woman continues to stare blankly. He points at the picture of it. She finally gets it. She seems to think the two of us ride the special bus. His face is now an entirely different shade than it was when we arrived. I already consider the evening a success.

After Taco Bell, we proceed to the movie… which is alternately thrilling, silly, frightening, disgusting, and contrived. Among other things, I learn that colored contacts are cool. I want some for myself. The single most implausible part of the movie for me is Tom Cruise buying clothes for a woman and having them exactly fit. Puh-leeze. Women can’t even buy clothes for themselves without trying them on and have them fit well. Mike wants one of the cars from the movie, but I explain that they specially made that one for Tom Cruise, and because he’s so short, nobody else can fit into it unless they’re his height or shorter. Um. (How tall are you, anyway?)

Afterward, despite Jeremy’s relative chagrin (and him yelling “I hate you guys!” across the parking lot), we go to Sunset Bowl. Mike, Jeremy, and I fetch our bowling balls and shoes (after sitting in the seedy, seedy bar for a bit and reminiscing about stale cigarettes, watery beer, and other college-related things.)

FINALLY, after waiting and waiting, we finally get stuck in the end lane (#26), which we decide is equivalent to sitting in the back of the bus. Now, here I have to go back a little - last weekend, I bowled with Benlau. Ever since then, I’ve had this horrible sprain-type pain in my left butt cheek, and for some reason I couldn’t figure out what it was from. The first time I bowl, I figure it out. Ow. Let me repeat, OW. The moment I start whining about it, I am beseiged with bowling-commentator-comments, including (my favorite) “Bob, that truly is a butt to believe in.”

I’m first. Next is Mike. Now, I’d heard a bit about Mike’s frightening bowling style, but I had no idea what I was in for until the first sonic boom. Essentially, he walks toward the lane, and THROWS THE BALL STRAIGHT DOWN and hopes it rolls somewhere. With each *THWACK* of the ball on the wood, Jeremy and I cover our heads and cower in the corner. By the end of the evening, Mike’s “No Pain, No Gain” bowling strategy evolves to a completely different level. Not only does he end up on the floor, he also wins the third game. Go figure.

Jeremy, on the other hand, looks like a bowling champ. His style is flawless … but once the ball leaves his fingers, it has a mind of its own. Here is Jeremy looking slick, Jeremy looking even more slick, and Jeremy giving it up and trying it left-handed.

Here is our favorite shot of the evening. I have no idea how this happened. Even the computer stops and mocks Mike. This is a miracle of modern bowling.

Finally, at three thirty in the morning, we give it up and go home. I end up winning two games out of three, so I don’t feel too bad for myself. Despite my aching derriere, the evening gets a big old thumbs-up in my book.

Sunday Afternoon:
After not much sleep, I get out of bed and head out to Dolce Vita to eat some gelato and play Blank White Cards with Mike et all. I finally get to meet GeeGaw, as well as getting to spend more quality time with Brian Grunkemeyer (one of my IMSA harem). It’s … a very interesting game, and it was a fun excuse to meet some new people. I was really proud of some of my cards, and really not very proud of some others, but I’m sure some of them will be posted on the BWC site at some point. Also - pistachio gelato is GOOD.

Sunday night:
I’m at work. Why, you ask? I don’t have computer access at home except when my housemates are all gone. I originally came over here with the intent of getting caught up on some stuff, but at this point I don’t know that I’m mentally capable. I got caught up looking at silly pictures, and you know what happens when I do that.

This.

Independence. Sorta.

There’s almost too much going on right now to process it in a thoughtful and thorough manner, especially considering how long I’ve been awake and the relative fog which is currently encompassing my brain. But, here are some highlights (so to speak)…

HAIR.
Got up this morning (afternoon?) and dyed it … it was supposed to turn out a glittery, highlight-filled medium golden brown, but I guess I left it in too long. Now, it’s a glittery, red-highlight-filled dark brown. It’s a cool color, but it’s too dark to put streaks in, which had been my original intent. Oh well.

BOWLING.
Benlau’s rendition of our bowling game is far more interesting than mine … check out his entry from (I think?) yesterday. That’s my station in life … to be the girl who says “yes” to him when no one else will.

FIREWORKS.
I love fireworks. From what I hear, Sonya loves fireworks too. Although the ones we watched from the scary back porch of the Gilded Lily weren’t as spectacular as the ones S. was undoubtedly seeing in D.C., I was still entranced. My favorite ones are the glisten-y gold ones that shimmer all the way to the water … they look like liquid lace. The upside-down smiley face ones? Notsomuch.

NEW BLOG FRIENDS.
Someone (and I won’t mention any names) has just started a new blog. She hasn’t told anyone about it (except me?) but from what I can tell, it’s going to be very interesting. She and I are very alike in a lot of ways, despite the fact that we’ve never met face to face - and we’re going through different phases of a similar event in our lives right now. Despite my somewhat awkward connections to the difficult event in her life, she’s been nothing but warm and wonderful to me. I anxiously await the day when I can share this link with you, because she’s a pretty excellent person and her ponderings promise to be well worth the read.

SLACKER BLOGMONGERS.
To quote an online conversation from today…
v: man, what do we have to do to get m to post a blog entry?
s: I don’t know.
s: Bribe him?
s: Threaten him?
s: Seduce him?
If you have any ideas, please drop me a comment. Your vote counts! (As d so sagely pointed out, any of the above tactics will probably just exascerbate the situation. To which I responded that I wasn’t actually going to seduce him … it was just fun to fiendishly plot against him, even if it never came to fruition. Which is to say that m is relatively safe … for now. ;)

QUANDRY.
Tonight I have a scheduling conflict. At ten, I am supposed to show up for the surprise birthday fete of someone very special to me (whose name I am of course not going to mention.) However, Spin the Bottle starts at eleven. What to do, what to do? We don’t know exactly when what’s-his-name is going to show up, but it may not even really start until eleven. Sigh. I mean, I know I’m going to stay at the party, but I love Spin the Bottle. I guess I can still go to Ballet with da boyz beforehand. I loves dose boys.

HOUSING SUCCESS.
Those of you who have been reading for awhile know that I’ve been experiencing housing woes all the way back to … April? March? But now, it appears that everything is going to be “all right”(tm). The fabulous Heather Moore and Patti West are going to be moving into my cozy little house, making it the COOLEST HOUSE EVER and well worthy of a name. (No offense meant to the Gilded Lily or Drooping Acres, of course. I suppose we could have a three-way tie for COOLEST HOUSE EVER.) And then, we can finally have a house-warming party, which I certainly couldn’t do while the house was FULL OF OTHER PEOPLE. There are currently very nearly five people living in a house that was originally only intended for two. That’s way too many. Three will be wonderful, and we will have all sorts of fun places for people to sit and stand and smoke and dance and drink and hang out. THEN, it will really feel like home. I can hardly wait.

I’ve got to believe it’s getting better

Some preliminary stylesheet futzing going on today … I think I’m happy with this one for awhile. We’ll see.

Hung out with Yukino and Jet at the U-Village Starbucks last night … during which time I saw both Nick Zulauf and Nate Carter, neither of whom I actually talked to. Jet hopped a plane to San Francisco today to hang out with Cookie, so he’s gone.

{Confidential to Mike Lee - I had this brilliant theory that you were only posting to your blog on Tuesdays, since that’s what happened the last two weeks … I thought I was so smart, and then yesterday we got nothing. If you wait long enough, we’re going to start betting on you again, and you don’t want that. Give your public what it wants.}

I forgot about this last time - I went and saw Lilo and Stitch last weekend. It was much better than I’d imagined it would be … and seeing it with a group of rambunctious Theatre Friends (tm) is always good. We went after the Fetz’s big birthday bash at Baron Von Krebs’ place, and it was charming in ways I hadn’t imagined possible. Plus, we got to see possibly the most ridiculous preview ever … I’m sure the movie will be lovely in its own special way, but when the title shot up on the screen, it was as if all air had been sucked from the theatre, and then everyone burst out laughing. (That’s never good.)

Afterwards, I had the pleasure of going to Sunset Bowl with your friend and mine, Mr. Ben Laurance. As I recall, we played three games - my scores for which were 97, 136, and 125. I kicked his ASS. This means no disrespect to Mr. Lau, of course… I had a phattily fantastic time, and he does that neat foot-kick bowling thing. Plus, I got a bowling-pin shaped beer, which was cool.

I’m going to dye my hair soon. I’m thinking maybe a sort of golden medium brown with black streaks. Sarah wants me to do black with burgundy streaks, but I don’t know that I could pull it off - especially in the summer. (Too dark, I’m thinking.) Care to comment? Your vote matters!

Shamelessly stolen

Thanks to Jen Davis, who had this idea, for not coming out to Seattle to wring my neck for ripping it off.

A brief google search reveals that

Do you agree with any of these? Why? Why not? Comment, comment!

Reune, Reuned, Have Reuned

IMSA’s class of 1997 had their five year reunion last weekend. I had a lot of friends in that class (especially Ernie), and had always harbored this pipe dream of coming back for their reunion, even if I didn’t make it back for my own, which I didn’t. In any case, some notable pictures (that I stole from Ernie), if anyone wants to see them …

Anna and her son
Jeremy, Julia, and Andy
Nalini
Natalia and Julia
The Prudes

{Editor’s note: Stupid webshots wouldn’t give me the URLs for these for half an hour. Before I got the links in, I posted a link to Ernie - if you’d like to browse all of his pics, check them out here.}

Snorkeling, anyone?

Check out my most recent blog link. What a world, what a world.

Guess what today is?

Yesterday was the one-year anniversary of the “End of Annex” party. Today is the day that would have been Bill’s and my four-year anniversary. He showed up at my place last night, wondering if he could sleep on the couch, and of course all I could think of was that night four years ago, and what happened when he and I somehow ended up sleeping on the same couch. It was just a very poignant reminder of how much we had, and how far we’ve come … and of what we’ve irretrievably lost. Just when I think I’m really over it, and I’m okay with the whole thing, I have a day like today.

Okay, enough of that. On to something else you might not care about. Someone called me “skinny girl” this weekend. That made me really happy. Thank you, pickle. You know who you are.

Plus, Yukino put up some pictures, and I stole them! Ha HA! First of all, here’s one of Brian, me, Mike, and Jet with the Can-Can girls. Next, we have one of me seducing Mike … but not really. Then, there’s one of Jet and Brian getting cozy on the couch that Heather reupholstered. And finally - this one’s my favorite - here’s one I took of Evil Jet laughing Evilly. (Okay, he’s not really evil, but that whole red light thing is pretty freaking cool.)

So, that’s it for right now. Care to comment? Talk about how cute we are? We know, we know. It’s hard to be this cute.