Irene the Bean

Oh, man, I totally forgot -

Patrick's nurse at Kaiser. Her name was "Irene." On her little clip board thingy, he said she had a sticker that said,

"Irene the Bean!"

Patrick told her that was his wife's name, too.

And the nurse goes, "I like your wife already." Same to you, lady!

Sweet!

This post stolen from American Express and Kate Winslet

My name: Irene P.

childhood ambition: to stay up all night

fondest memory: in kindergarten, when they'd bring the big parachutes for us to play with; when Roger Packard's dad brought the ice truck and we pretended it snowed; making the videotape of hiking up to the Hollywood sign with Patrick; "maintain!"

soundtrack: Led Zeppelin (Presence, III), Radiohead, lots of Talking Heads, McCoy Tyner, Shakti, Ravi Shankar, and George Harrison

retreat: beach, road trip to anywhere with Patrick, day at a spa

wildest dream: house paid off, bills taken care of, an in-ground swimming pool, a dog

proudest moment: getting accepted to CalArts, getting married, walking down the aisle with my dad

biggest challenge: practicing

alarm clock: hungry Dora

perfect day: sleep in, go to Chinatown for dim sum, hang out, see a movie: no time frames, no limits, no schedules

first job: telemarketing at cheesy magazine company

indulgence: butter, chocolate

last purchase: shine stuff for hair (bought it Friday... haven't tried it yet), forget the name, it comes in a red bottle, it was much too expensive

movie: The Graduate

inspiration: music, love

My life... is pretty darn good

My card is... overdrawn. Do you think American Express can help me out...?

Hip Cooks: Patrick flips a pan full of flaming hot something

Earlier this year, Patrick and I went to a cooking class at this place in a very cool loft near downtown LA with our friends, A.D. and Alice.

He's so cute with that hot pan in his hands!

8th Grade Graduation

It's 8th grade graduation, I have a terrible haircut, an ugly dress (all the other girls were wearing these long, pretty, puffy fluffy things, and my dress was actually a matching top and mid-calf length skirt, and had a handkerchief hem. The only good thing about that outfit is my brother took me to Nordstrom for the shoes, which were my first high heels ever: a black leather pair of Nine West pumps, with a hot pink interior. I wore those shoes for 4 years), and I hated the way I looked. I had very few curves, and I look like a boy with bad hair. I mean, what is it with that hair? What was I thinking?

Oh, but that's my Yamaha flute, which I still have, which I loved, which I got a hell of a good sound out of for someone not too serious about the flute, which I wasn't in the 8th grade.

However, my 8th grade counterparts, Jeremy (I've known Jeremy since kindergarten!) and Adam (I've known Adam since 5th grade!) are not stylistically challenged: they're both sporting the Miami Vice look here. They look pretty good, no? This is before they switched to saxophone, I guess because they figured out that sax players get the chicks. You'll have to ask them if it worked. I can tell you that even though it's not visible in this photo, Adam's sleeves are pushed up to his elbows. And he wasn't wearing any socks.

The Moon is a Harsh Mistress

Monday we both worked, I was a little sleepy, we came home, watched more old Bugs Bunny cartoons, and I started re-reading "The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress."

I first read it probably in the 9th or 10th grade. I can't remember if I discovered Heinlein on my own or if it was because of my friend Ron (Ron was really cute and we were pretty good friends, but he wasn't ever really interested in me, though, I think there was one time [or two times...] when he was bored?), but I really enjoyed all his books in high school, and have re-read some of them quite a few times. I haven't read this one in awhile, and felt like it was time. I forgot how good it is. I know Heinlein gets a lot of criticism (some of it deserved) for his politics, apparent misogynistic tendencies, an appalling fondness for the concept of incest, and good lord, don't forget his long-winded-ness (if you've ever read "To Sail Beyond the Sunset" you know what I'm talking about) - he certainly was opinionated.

His books are really creative, and funny, and even though I probably should have some more intelligent things to say about them, all I can tell you is, I like them. You might, too.

I wonder what ol' Rappin' Ron is up to these days...

I can't believe I forgot to mention:

Yesterday was my mom's last day of radiation therapy!

Yay!

Right upper quadrant

To clarify:

This is not my torso. I wish it was, however, I do think I prefer my light brown skin color (I'm probably more olive, but whatever) to her pink bunny one. But that's just my personal preference. You may think otherwise.

And those are not my panties. They're cute, no? I like the little ties on the sides, but I wonder if those would give a weird panty line. Or maybe this is a swimsuit?

My goodness, that's quite a waxing job. Those little stripe-y things on her - what is that, her pelvic bone? - are very Adam Ant. Kinda punk, a little. And I do like how her belly button perfectly bisects the little grid-y thing there... Oh? You think they put the grid there after taking the photo? Hmm. I figured she got this gig because she was perfectly proportioned and lined up with their schematic so well.

Listen: I don't know this person, I've never met this person, and no, I cannot get you her telephone number. She does seem very nice, with a little arch in her back, yes. And even though it cuts off, I do believe she is looking right at you. How nice of you to notice that. But this photo looks like it's from 1974, so come on, now. Chill.

I'm not kidding anymore, Mariah:

I want your dog.

Actually, I just went to the official Jack Russell website and have been made to understand that they're not good dogs for families with cats and or children. Obviously not the dog for me (because my cats are just like children... children I allow to crawl on the floor), however, they're so dang cute...!

If I were rich, and had nothing to do all day except walk my dog in low-cut clingy dresses, then I would say, SIGN ME UP, I'm ready for my dog now, please. Hand him over nice and slow, Mariah, and no one gets hurt.

And, to make it an even better deal for everybody, I promise to never wear shoes that ugly.

Earplugs

My mom and my sister just told me the other night that they suffer from irregular sleep patterns. My mom has had insomnia for a long time. Until the nurse at the oncologist's office reassured her that she wouldn't become the next Rush Limbaugh, she refused to take her sleeping pill regularly. I remember coming home late in the evening when I was a teenager (or early in the morning... past my curfew) and finding her up, sitting in the living room, reading her Bible, wearing her big zipped up bathrobe, waiting for me.

Lately I have developed a little sleep-related irregularity myself, lately. With the cats waking me up, and the early morning phone calls, and Patrick's snoring, just getting to sleep and staying asleep has been really tough.

We realized that there's a simple solution: earplugs. They took some getting used to – I bought the ones shaped like squishy little cones, the ones you roll up between your fingers and then insert into your ear. They’re supposed to expand to fit but I swear, I think my right ear is bigger than my left. We thought that earplugs guaranteed to work up to 28 decibels would be sufficient, but it turned out that I needed the 32 decibel protection.

Who knew my husband has a 32 decibel snore?

I'm not sure what type of dog this is,

This dog* should be mine.

And I don't mean the one wearing the dress.

*Jack Russell. Duh.