Thursday, January 28, 2010

Google-ing random symptoms = total insanity

I wrote some of this last night in an email to a friend:
Last week I had an appointment with an allergist - I am interested in getting those shots that are supposed to eventually cure you of your allergies (temporarily; apparently it's only good for 10 years). My doctor turned out to be young, gorgeous, efficient, and really nice, so while I was there, I opened up to her a little. I know I should probably not need my doctor to have any of the previously mentioned attributes in order to share information about my own health, but what can I say? I was comfortable. Anyway, I mentioned to her that my eczema had flared up a little... on my breasts? I thought she might be interested in knowing that. She didn't examine me (it was my choice: Do you want me to examine you, she asked? No, I said, because surely it's nothing!) but then she said, kind of on our way out of the room, "Not to scare you, but if you want, I can recommend you to see a dermatologist, because if it's only one breast that's affected, it could be a sign of cancer."

Sure. "Not to scare you" - as if that line ever works. After she said that, I had to think: is it just one? Or both? So since then, I have been looking at them rather intently, which is... interesting. It's not a big deal: I've had eczema for years, and this is a very mild case. A little moisturizer, and ta da! It's gone. But I commit the ultimate sin (super hot showers), so every morning I get out of the shower, and you know? There's itchiness, dryness, and it's not going away. And I am too shy to do a self-exam. I know: I'm stupid. No: I just don't want to feel something and be all, OH MY GOD I FELT A LUMP and then have to deal with the subsequent drama and calming down and panic that will involve. I'm no expert.

(Note: I think women should do their own self-exams. I've done them in the past, I will do it in the future, I'm just not crazy about it. Sure, it causes "anxiety." But some stuff you just have to shut up and do.)

After not thinking about it (yeah right) or doing anything for a couple of days, today I found this (note: this was the first link that came up, so any hysteria I'm feeling is silly and unfounded, I know).
Paget's disease. I could have it.

Of course I probably don't, but after last year's cyst scare (that turned out to be nothing), and everything that's going on with my mom, and the fact that I uttered the words "I actually like my breasts" to somebody (karma! God is punishing me for being vain!, which is funny, because one is totally noticeably bigger than the other one... still, I like them, okay!)... I'm a little bit freaked out.

I think I will call her and ask for that referral. I really like dermatologists, anyway. They're always so clean.
After writing it all down and allowing myself to think about it, I felt a lot better. I talked about it to Patrick at home, and he was calm and cool and said, "Hey, just see the dermatologist, and I'm sure it's all fine, but then you can feel better." Exactly my thoughts, too, man, but this is why I married you. This morning I took a break at work and went to the car and made the phone call. I feel better already. I'll keep you posted. Or not.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

I am the biggest loser

Knowing that my mother enjoys the TV show "Biggest Loser," I started watching it this year. My mom likes a lot of TV shows I don't watch, and I thought it might be a good idea if I started following at least one so I could contribute to the conversation when she brings it up. She likes to tell you the plots of things (books, movies, etc.) and if I haven't seen or read whatever it is she's talking about, it's a pretty boring conversation. So I've been watching Biggest Loser. I know it's been on for a while, and I thought I knew what it was (a weight loss show?); I was totally unprepared for the psychological drama.

For one thing, that woman Jillian is insane. Her rubber face scares the heck out of me. Sure, I would love to have her work me out all day, because I know I'd end up looking fantastic, but if I had to deal with her contstantly imploring me to get in touch with my feelings while she's screaming at me (or clinging to my back while I crawl on my forearms through the dusty grass), I'd have to say thanks, but no thanks. At first I thought that what she and Bob (the other trainer) had going on was a good-cop/bad-cop routine, but they're both a little nuts. He's as bad as she is, but he puts a smiley face on it, and that's just as creepy.

I'm falling for the contestants, though. There are a couple of people who are playing reality show head trip games (I don't know your names yet [Red Team, I'm talking to you] and I think I like it that way), but otherwise - the mom of the pink team, the one lady left on the purple team, the one guy left on the brown team (how sad for him, to have to be the "brown" team), and the two dudes on the gray team: these people are likable and working hard. I'm kind of hooked because of them.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Adult Education

Because I am/was a lazy bum, most of my friends are more highly educated than I am (does the word "highly" belong in that sentence?). This is fine, as it serves to keep me in my place (it's also helped me hone my well-developed self-deprecating sense of humor). And it means I got to have a lot of fun retail jobs while they were off getting drunk at college.

One of my friends is a professor of Spanish at a private college in some state on the other side of the country. He's currently kicking my butt in a Scrabble game on Facebook (he figured out that he wins 4 out of every 5 games he plays with me. I really didn't want to know that, I guess, but I'm addicted. So? He's really good at Scrabble. That one game out of 5 that I win is celebrated like, I don't know, something historical and wonderful that was won which everyone thought would be lost. You fill in the blanks, smartypants), and on Monday, he was in town visiting.

I've known this guy for a long time: we went to high school at around the same time (though I'm about 3 years older than he is; if we'd gone to the same high school, I wouldn't have deigned to talk to him. This could be why I have so few friends). We met through my flute teacher, who was also his flute teacher. He got more of her - she taught at his fancy music school, so he saw her all during the week instead for one hour at a private lesson. I think she liked him and the other kids she saw in that program more than she liked me (at the time) because they were terrific musicians, and obviously well-trained, but I don't know, that could be the scared 16 year old kid I was, speaking. They were fearless musicians. These kids had musical dreams that some of them actually fulfilled. Even though I was older, he and his buddies at the fancy music school were a bit more advanced than I was. She'd pair us up into groups occasionally to sight-read, and because I was shy, and unconfident, they walked all over me for awhile. Also, when I'm in a group of people who know each other well like that, I tend to get intimidated, and these kids could play. My friend can B.S. his way through any piece of music, and it took me a lot longer to learn how to do that convincingly (I have been known to cry at difficult passages). But we all grew up, he moved away (we kept in touch sporadically until the Miracle of Facebook), and I continued to study privately with my flute teacher until well into my 30s. I learned a lot from her, including how to count, sight-read, and play in tune (my proudest skill). He went off to college and got some fancy advanced degrees in interesting subjects and became a teacher. Oh, I'm sorry: a professor. And me and our flute teacher nourished and grew a friendship out of our student-teacher relationship that I treasure to this day. There's nobody I'd rather room with at a flute convention, that's for sure.

Incredible, isn't it?

Anyway, my friend was in town on Monday. He'd been traveling, doing some research on a subject I'm not going to name here (it's interesting, a bit risque, and his own business to tell), and we all got together for lunch and quartets (we were joined by another flutist). I was surprised that I had quite a bit of information about the subject he's researching (let's just say it's not something Nice People know about; then again, when did I ever profess to be "Nice"?), and it was fun to discuss it with him and our former flute teacher, now our friend. Now, I couldn't go on and write a scholarly paper or anything on the subject (nor would I want to), or probably, any subject, but it was great to have a highbrow conversation about an indecent topic and not feel like I was uninformed and stupid.

And the quartets were a lot of fun, too.

This has come to mind because for the last couple of days I have been feeling less than brainy. At work I have been slow; I'm not dyslexic but you wouldn't know it from listening to me talk (a little while ago I was telling my boss and her secretary that the second floor bathroom is closed and being repaired. They asked how I knew, and I stated that "there's a door on the sign"). Yesterday I managed to date something November 19, 2010; I filled in an Excel spreadsheet with the wrong data and didn't understand how, exactly, I had managed to do that; I couldn't figure out how multiplying something by 0.9 results in being 10% less than the original number even though I tested it and can see that it works... My brain was fried, and I don't even know why. I have done nothing to cause this (i.e., there has been no alcohol in my recent past). Today I feel a bit more logical, but I wonder if I just need more flute playing. I was smarter when I knew it was in my future. Luckily flute choir starts tomorrow night, and I'm counting on those 2.5 hours to smarten me up.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Because apparently I have some kind of strained muscle in my back

(and not a UTI as I thought), I am on drugs right now for the PAIN. It's not a lot of pain; I think two prescriptions was overkill, I probably will not continue to take them both because they both make you (or me, as the case may be) tired (duh), and maybe a bit confused, so I'm not capable of writing much else right now, SO I am going to do another question-y thing. Misspelled words, questionable grammar, and typos are to be blamed on my new, white, round little friends.

I got this one from the Middle Aged Diva (hands off my Stewart Copeland, babe; otherwise she seems totally charming and fun).

Oh, and this is a bonus: there's not a damn thing on television I want to watch right now, so I'm watching "Ski Flying."

Do you get regular massages? Not since Bruce retired. I've been frequenting once in awhile this reflexology place that opened last year near my house, dry cleaner, and hair salon. Just got one on Sunday, and it was perfect.

Do you have an answering machine? Yes but if you really need to get in touch with me I recommend calling my cell phone.

What cuss word do you use the most? It depends upon to whom I am speaking. Variants on the F word, I guess.

Are you underweight or overweight? I'm pretty much borderline overweight, I guess, though I just lost 4 pounds without really trying, much to my surprise.

Can you see your veins? Some of them. They don't spell out words or anything.

Soap? Cetaphil
Fruit? Blackberries (is that a fruit? or a berry?)
Kind of red meat? As of Dec. 30 I've sworn off meat. I did love steak (bloody but not cold). And lamb, but I didn't allow myself to eat it very often. Lambs are too cute to eat. Other meat, well, maybe one day again but probably not any time soon.
Fish? I've practically almost decided to be the type of person who doesn't eat meat but on occasion eats fish (the last time I had fish was probably a year ago, not counting tunafish, which, I don't know why you wouldn't count it, it's fish, those big ol' tunas deserve to live too...). I'm not a big fish eater, and so my answer here will be vague, until I can make up my mind.
Candy bar? Hershey bar with almonds.

Have you ever...
Eaten a whole bag of potato chips? Unfortunately. It's also very easy for me to devour an entire tin of Pringles.
Eaten lobster? Yes, but not very often. I like it a lot.
Climbed a mountain? Hell no. But there was that hill at Leadership Camp that Rachel and I stupidly climbed up and then couldn't get down without Adam's intervention...
Been skydiving? No.
Been water skiing? No.

Do you...
Wish you could change something about your life? Yes.
Like your nose? I wouldn't change it or anything, but my nostrils are kind of large.
Like salt and vinegar chips? Sometimes.
Eat salsa? Mild salsa. Tito's salsa.
Own a boat? No.

What is
a small thing that people let slide but that actually has dire consequences? Not signaling lane changes. Or jaywalking.
Your most macho trait? I'm not very patient. Is that a macho trait?
The longest relationship you've ever had? Married 11 years, met my husband when I was 17.
Your most embarrassing thoughts? Please see for examples.
Your most shameful moment? Breaking up with Drew in a poorly planned and unfair way in a parked car near my elementary school.


Bath/shower? Shower but if I'm in a nice clean hotel...
Markers/crayons? Markers.
Pens/pencils? Both
Jelly/cream cheese? Either
Bagel/toast?  Decisions, decisions...


My greatest weakness is... My fantasy life; buying music.
I wish I was... Skinnier. Motivated. Braver. Had better personal style.
Three things I wouldn't do for a million dollars is... kill, kill, kill
The oddest thing I've ever put in my mouth is... Bleh.


Credit card you had? I think it was an American Express card.
Loan you got was for? Used car.
First paycheck was for how much? No idea. But they don't pay 15 year old library pages a whole lot of dough.
Time you had stitches? I have never had any stitches that am aware of.
Time you went to the hospital for something? I had some kind of eye surgery when I was a baby.


List everything you ate in the last 24 hours? Popcorn, a diet Coke, veggie chipotle burrito, yummy spinach scrambled eggs, banana bread with raisins and cream cheese, frut, half a cup of coffee with cream and sugar, orange juice
Last thing you used a credit card for? Shoes
What was your last job? Before my civil service job I was a bookstore manager.
Last thing you celebrated? My brother's birthday.
Last time you were at a sports bar? Years and years. The staff of 20/20 Video used to go to Gabes, a crappy sports bar, where we went to see a crappy cover band, drink, and play that weird game with the little football guys. I was not impressed.

Saturday, January 9, 2010


Last night I had a dream that Patrick and I had a huge fight, bigger than any argument we've ever had in real life but I can't remember what it was about or what we said. I just remember feeling very un-connected with him and separate and damn that was scary.

I woke up at 5:30 and couldn't go back to sleep. Instead I turned on the heater, brought a blanket and pillow out to the living room, fired up the laptop, wrote a long silly letter to Stewart Copeland and have been uploading music for my mom's iPod, my super-project.

Patrick's in bed, snoring away, obvlivious.

I think I'll do some laundry, too. Since I'm awake anyway.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010


2010 opened with me having a renewed interest in the care and upkeep of my home ("renewed" indicates that there was a previous interest that had gone stagnant... well, I'll just let you keep thinking that), and over the past weekend, I spent a lot of time in my living room, bedroom, and bathroom. Since I apparently have lost the ability to single-task effectively, all three rooms were looked at and worked on at the same time; none of them has been finished just yet. Maybe this will be an ongoing project. I suspect that's all housework is, anyway.

So I got out all my vaccuums (for some reason I have three, and none of them is all that great): the little hand-vac for small jobs, the slightly larger red one for slightly larger jobs (it's the best for kitty litter), and the medium-sized green one for the one patch of carpet in my whole house (living room). I bought a couple new microfiber cloths for dusting, refilled my Swiffer Wet Jet, and had my sister pick out a mop thing for me (she is better than Martha Stewart at keeping things clean, and the model for my new life as someone who cares about cleaning). I went through all my books and the bookshelves in the living room, and rid myself of things we had been collecting for no apparent reason and the things I was hanging onto for sentimental reasons but it was time to let go of (my decrepit, dusty, and disintegrating bridal bouquet, for example. Now, if I had handled it correctly from day 1, I could have kept it as a treasured memento from a beautiful day with my husband and family; unfortunately, the thing was just too fragile and jacked up to keep. Pieces of it were all over the place. I took a farewell photo of it, told Patrick, who probably didn't realize what event that particular graying bunch of roses was even from, kissed him, and then I unceremoniously dumped it in the trash.

I don't have a ton of books, but I decided it was time to let go of some of them, and so I filled a couple of paper grocery store bags with the ones I don't want anymore. I mostly kept the ones I've read more than once, and even after culling out the losers, I have quite a few more books than I probably should (and man, how'd I get so many Philip Roth novels? I must have like 15 of his books). I always said I'd I never get rid of any books, that they were all treasured friends, but some of them were just embarrassing (though: I did keep my high school copies of "Atlas Shrugged" and "The Fountainhead" - two examples of bad writing/thinking that for some reason I have a soft spot for that Ayn Rand probably wouldn't appreciate). It is time to lighten the load, and then maybe in a little while, get some more.

Last night, Patrick was out at a band rehearsal so I stopped at the library on the way home to see if I could find any CD's for an iPod I'm planning on loading for my mom's birthday. Surprisingly, they had quite a lot of music I think she'll enjoy (and I need to figure out how to get her music into my iTunes but not on my iPod - believe me when I tell you that nothing will piss me off more than cruising down the freeway and having, I don't know, Tony Bennett or Sandy Patti come streaming out my stereo speakers), and when I got home, I started uploading CD's. While that was going on (my laptop is slow at this), I took a look around the living room, and decided it was time to tackle: The Crickets.

I think I wrote about the crickes awhile ago. They've sort of invaded our living room, but they're not visible or annoying except for doing that thing crickets do. It doesn't really bother me when I don't think about it too much, but last night I started thinking about it.

(Time out here: I admit that Patrick and I have sort of been living like sloppy college students all these years. Every once in awhile I get inspired to clean, but we never really keep things clean. We run the dishwasher, but we never empty it, so new dirty dishes pile up. We do laundry, but unless I do it, there's always a basket full of clean but slightly wrinkled clothes around. If we're having company, we clean up, and the place looks nice on the surface... but hidden away in closets and various cubby holes, if you looked closely, you would find all our mess, ready to take over again once the guests leave. I would like to be more like my sister, and my friends who have homes that would be presentable even with no notice or a special cleaning crew beforehand. Yeah, it's a big change, but I'm gonna try.)

So I moved a few bookscases, got out my trusty hand-vac (it's perfect for crickets and cat food; not necessarily one and the same, but sometimes...), and found a couple teeny tiny crickets hiding behind the TV. Franny was a big help in this venture. Just saying "Franny! What's that?" put her in huntress mode, and my kitty is no scaredy-cat. We conquered some of the crickets (but I'm sure there are more. Hiding. I'm not really strong enough to really move the TV), and then I was walking behind the couch in this big open space we have there, and I saw what I thought was some fluff from the carpet. It was black (we have some black in the carpet), and it looked just like those fibers that come off the kitty scratching posts. So I aimed my hand-vac at it, and... right before it got sucked in, it moved.

Turns out that piece of fluff was some kind of large bug (disturbed, probably, when I moved the bookcases), now trapped in the tiny body of my hand-vac, along with who knows how many baby crickets and whatever else had been caught up in there. And suddenly I acquired an irrational fear of my hand-vac.

I set it down without folding it up (it folds up to go live on it's base) in the middle of the living room floor. Franny came sniffing around, and we both just looked at it. Here's the thing I was envisioning:

Being in the hand-vac was probably heaven to that stupid bug: all the crickets he could eat! Lots of dust and hair and what-not to roll around in, and did I mention the crickets? So I pictured the bug swelling to astronomical un-bug like proportions, and then me forgetting the bug was in there, opening the little side door to empty the little canister, and being confronted by super-bug.

"Ewww" was the only word I could muster out loud. So I gingerly picked the thing up, took it outside and set it on the back steps, and waited for Patrick to get home so he could be the one to empty it. He didn't want to (poor guy was beat up after that band rehearsal, wherein he utilized his crazy new mega-bell ride cymbal for the first time, which is practically gong like but crashy and fucking loud), but he finally did it. He brought it back in the house and let me examine it. There was no trace of the havoc I had wreaked on the animal kingdom earlier that night. I put it back on the base, pushed all the bookcases back up against the wall, and went back to uploading CD's for my mom.

This weekend I plan on finishing, finally, the living room, bathroom and bedroom, and then I'll set about tackling the kitchen, which shouldn't be too difficult - we never use that room. Then I'll have to set my sights on my office, which is chock full of crap to be shredded and painted and we need new blinds, and I'd like a smaller desk and less computer equipment, and maybe a sleeper love seat, and...

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Happy new year, Irene!

Last week I had to run an errand to the post office during lunch. It took awhile, and so I was left with not a lot of time in which to get something to eat before I had to be back to work. Luckily there's a Starbucks around the corner, so I went there for a sandwich.

I was the only customer. I was the only customer for awhile. The guy behind the counter was young. He's cool (I've been there before but he didn't recognize me), and we talked a little bit about what I was ordering. He and his co-workers were listening to Radiohead. Starbucks-sanctioned, I guess. I love his East LA accent. I've worked in East LA for a little over a year now, and have really started to appreciate that this area has a special sound. It's not all that lilting, or a sexy accent: it's angular, and harsh, and the cadence can be strange, but there's something about it that I just love. Some of the people I've met with this accent don't even, like me, speak Spanish or any language other than English - they were born here, like me. But whereas I sound like every other person on television or straight out of Culver City, they have these exotic voices and speech patterns. I'm learning to imitate it for Patrick's entertainment, but I'm no minic. Still: it's fun to try.

The guy who helped me was really nice. I chose the mozzarella, tomato and pesto sandwich, a Rice Krispy treat (those things are dangerous) and a blackberry Izze. After I paid, he asked if I wanted him to heat up my sandwich, and he explained just how much heating it up improved the experience of eating it. He was very helpful, and friendly.

While he was doing that, I was just standing there, kind of staring out the window. The barista was standing at the counter to my left, not paying any attention to me, which was fine, because I didn't order a coffee drink. He had the same coloring as me. I think we look like we could be from anywhere: Mexico, Iran, India... Hawaii. Both these dudes were young, probably in their early 20s.

Suddenly, in the silence of the totally empty (except for me) Starbucks, the barista yelled, "What's UP Irene!"

Someone had entered the store but I didn't realize it. I looked at him all startled and googly eyed, and then I realized he wasn't talking to me. I was glad I had my sunglasses on. A young woman had walked in and she was standing in line behind me. I got out of the way to continue to wait for my sandwich and so she could order, and she and the barista had a funny but not very original conversation about how drunk they had been last night/that morning, and how drunk they planned on being later that day. She was tall, with short dark hair with lighter colored streaks in it, and she was wearing an apron. She had the same East LA accent, but female. She was tough-sounding. And pretty.

At a lull in their conversation, I spoke to her.

"Your name is Irene too?" I said.

"Yeah! You're Irene?" She said.

"That's why you looked at me all funny," the barista said.

I smiled. "I never used to meet people my age with my name," I said. "But now we're all over." (Usually the name Irene was reserved for crazy old neighbor ladies or somebody's crackpot maiden aunt on TV; I work with three other women, all about my age or younger, with the name now. Yes, I realize that makes me the crazy neighbor lady now. Oh, and there's also that weird Captain Beefheart song about a woman named Irene and a man named Harry who are well known for their tunafish sandwiches. Oh, that Captain Beefheart!)

"I know, huh!" Irene said. "I met a guy named Irene the other day! For real!"

"Really," I said. "That's weird."

"Yeah, man [looking at her barista friend], he kept saying it was his real name!"

At this point my sandwich was ready, and the other Irene and the barista continued their conversation about their upcoming plans to continue the drinking from the night before. They were defnitely entertaining me at this point. I miss working in retail!

I turned around to leave, and Irene said, "Bye Irene! Hey, it was nice meeting you!"

"Bye Irene! Happy New Year!" I said.

Monday, January 4, 2010

First (and probably last) silly list of questions of the year

I found these questions on the blog of a woman who appears to have a crush on Stewart Copeland, and I decided that answering them would be interesting. Well, for me. You have to make up your own mind. Anyway, this other woman who likes Stewart is also funny, and interesting and un-hateable. So. Jane? I hope Jon Hamm calls you right before Stewart calls me, because I would hate to fight you. Really. I would hate it, but I would do it.

Here we go!

Where did you take your profile pic?
I think it was taken in the bathroom.

What exactly are you wearing right now?
Black boots, a pair of Patrick's black Christmas socks, greenish-brown pants, black sweater over a black tank top, black panties and bra, my watch, wedding ring, hair thing around my right wrist, a black metal barrette (it was early when I dried my hair this morning), hundred-year old Banana Republic earrings that I am always wearing, glasses, face of sleepiness, Essie nail polish "Cherry Pop."

What is your current problem?
Do I have to go to tomorrow night's pickup rehearsal for the Trojan Women? Do I have time (i.e., money) to get my flute fixed before flute choir starts? Was my last post on my Stewart Copeland blog too personal?

What makes you happy most?
When Patrick and I are cruising down some highway with metal or weird jazz or Captain Beefheart on the radio and he's explaining some musical/alien lifeform/complicated computer/politics-related thing to me.

What's the name of the song you're listening to?
"Because the Night," by Patti Smith. Just in my head, though.

Any celebrity you would marry?
Yes, but only with Patrick's permission.

Name someone with the same birthday as you
I can't think of anyone with the exact same birthday, but Patrick's cousin Adrian's birthday is right around mine and he's an amazing guitarist and excellent person, and so for those reasons alone, I name him now at your request: Adrian Esparza, you have been named.

What this means, I have no idea.

Ever sing in front of a large audience?
If what I did to those Stevie Nicks songs at karoke counts as "singing," and if the 20 or so people at The Scarlet Lady who saw/heard me do it count as a "large audience" (less, probably, because I think some of them were playing pool), then, yes. Or did you perhaps mean all the people who saw me singing along with Patti this morning on the 710? Or the two friends who received a recording of me singing the first three lines to "Blue Moon" in their inbox on New Year's Eve (neither has acknowledged receiving that particular message; maybe they're playing "if we pretend this never happened," which could be okay, because I sort of forgot the melody by the middle of the second line)...

Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity?
Not really. Andrea has a photo of a little girl from a Quaker Oats ad she claims looks like me... but she's hardly a celebrity. In fact, I think she's a drawing. So? No.

Do you speak any other languages?

Has anyone you've been really close with passed away?

Do you ever watch TV?
All the time.

What's something that really annoys you?
Self-righteousness, parking lots that ignore the fact that pedestrians will be using them once they get out of their cars; when people come visit me at work and they stand right behind my chair; that it takes five guys/girls at Subway to make my sandwich. Wouldn't it go much faster if just the one guy did it and I didn't have to tell everybody in the damn store what I want five times?

Middle name?
It was Laura. Now it's Casarez.

Bean, Beanie, Beans, Goofball, Dumbass

Current location:
Super-secret location

Eye color:

Do you get along with your parents?
Yes, most of the time.

Are your parents married/separated/divorced?
Married. And still sweet on each other.

Do you have any siblings?
Two brothers, a sister

Ice cream
Sure. Chocolate malted crunch, please.

I live in LA., so whatever season means 72 degrees, not too windy, that's fine with me, thanks.

Whatever Nina tells me to use

Dance in the shower?
Oh, yeah. I need a new tub mat - almost took a spill yesterday.

Do you write on your hand?
Mostly unintentionally - I'm left handed and sometimes it drags on the ink. Made that calligraphy class I took in 1991 lots of fun.

Call people back?
Yes. I hate answering the phone but not actually using it.

Believe in love?
Of course.

Any bad habits?
Idealizing people

Any mental health issues?
Hmmm... maybe a tiny bit.

Broken a bone?
You mean, of my own?

Sprained stuff?

Had physical therapy?

Gotten stiches?
I don't think so.

Taken painkillers?
No. Well, Advil.

Gone scuba diving or snorkeling?
Snorkled in our little backyard pool - it's fun! But the ocean is scary.

Been stung by a bee?
Yes! My finger swelled to about three times it's normal size. I might be allergic.

Thrown up at the dentist?
No. Eww.

Sworn in front of your parents?

Had detention?
Yep. PE infractions, and once I got caught leaving school, um, during school.

Last movie seen?
At the theater: I have no idea, it's been so long.
On my laptop: "The Answer Man"

Last three people to text you?
Angie, Andrea, Patrick

Last person you called?

Last person you hugged?
My niece Diana

Last person you tackled?

Last thing you touched?

Last thing you ate?
Veggie subway sandwich

Last thing you drank?
Diet Coke

Last thing you said:
"Okay! See you Friday, then!"

Were you named after anyone?
Yes, but I didn't know that person.

When was the last time you cried?
Sometime last week. Hey, "The Answer Man" gets kind of touchy-feely.

Do you like your handwriting?
Under specific conditions, yes.

What is your favorite lunch meat?
I have recently foresworn meat of any kind (well, let's be specific: of the animal kind), including that of the sub-category "lunch." However, were this a perfect world where I could eat the meat without killing the animal, I would probably say turkey.

Do you have kids?
Yes. Three cats. Allow me to introduce you to Puma, Dora, and Franny.

If you were another person, would you be friends with you?
This question is all kinds of wrong.

Do you use sarcasm?
Ocasionally, to great comic effect.

(Did you believe me?)

Do you still have your tonsils?
I think so. Lemme check.... yes.

Would you bungee jump?
Yes, but I'd be scared. And then I'd probably want to do it again. But let's don't test this: I'd rather think I'd do it than be faced with it in reality and find out that I'm chicken.

What is your favorite cereal?
"Magic Shapes," aka, fake Lucky Charms. I really just like the groovy wizard guy on the box.

Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?
Sometimes yes, sometimes no.

What is your favorite number?
3. It's the magic number.

What is the first thing you notice about a person?
Them, as a whole. Then the shoes. Then the nose. Then the smile.

Red or pink?
It really depends upon which red and which pink we're talking about, and what the application is going to be. As a rule, probably red. But there are pinks that I like, too.

What is your least favorite thing about yourself?
I'm always smiling at myself in mirrors.

Who do you miss the most?

What color pants and shoes are you wearing right now?
Didn't I answer this already? Green-brown, black. I'll leave it to you to figure out which is which.

What are you looking forward to about tomorrow?
Possibly carpooling to Santa Monica. That it's one day closer to Friday.

What are you listening to right now?
Patti Smith, Green Day, Klark Kent

If you were a crayon, what color would you be?
Beaver. (Shut up. That's a real color.)

Or how about Green Blue?
I like Green Yellow, too.
Hot Magenta is pretty!
Orange Red?

Favorite smells?
Thanksgiving dinner, any kind of anything baking, lavender, the smell of people's clean laundry in the dryer when walking around my neighborhood in the evening; Franny; fresh breath on a guy; Patrick's Axe deoderant

Who was the last person you talked to on the phone?
Wrong number.

Favorite sports to watch?
Cycling, sometimes baseball, figure skating, gymnastics, ultimate fighting with Patrick, most of the Olympics

Hair color?
Darkest brown possible.

Eye color?
Still brown, but thanks for checking up.

Do you wear contacts?
I did, a few times. I look better in glasses.

(No pun intended)

Scary movies or happy endings?
Happy endings

Last movie you watched?
We saw part of "The 40 Year Old Virgin" the other night.

Favorite food?
Roast turkey.

What color shirt are you wearing?
You sure are interested in my clothing! Black, black, black.

Summer or winter?

Hugs or kisses?
Kisses. And keep 'em coming.

What book are you reading right now?
I'm reading two books: the new John Irving novel, and a book about cymbals by a guy with a funny name.

What's on your mouse pad?
My mouse.

What did you watch on TV last night?
Iron Chef America; Michael Jackson's "Thriller" video with my niece and nephew

Favorite sounds?
Franny's purr, an in-tune flute choir, Patrick's drums, certain voicemail messages

Rolling Stones or the Beatles?
The Beatles!!

What is the farthest you've ever been from home?
France; my dreams

Do you have a special talent?
Probably not.

Where were you born?
Santa Monica

Who was your favorite teacher?
Joe Nazzaretta. Middle and High School band.

What's your secret?
To what? My shiny, flowing hair?

What's your biggest goal/dream?
Short term: For Stewart Copeland to come see a show at City Garage and take me out to dinner afterward, and for me to have good hair and not feel too fat at the time.

Long term: To figure out how I feel about not finishing college and either decide to go once and for all and shut up about it or not to go and to stop feeling bad about it.

Or I could just have a kid, right?

(That's a joke, people. Put the phone down.)

Friday, January 1, 2010

Happy new year!

We had a pretty quiet new year's eve - we were going to go to downtown LB and see if we could get close enough to watch that crazy guy Travis Pastrana jump a car from a bridge to a barge, but even though I was lucky enough to get to leave work a little early, I still got home pretty late. Also I'm coughing now and I don't know, we just didn't want to get out in the cold and the crowds and battle all that. So we resigned ourselves to watching it on TV.

It was pretty exciting. That guy is crazy! He made it, of course, though we wondered what would happen if he crashed or failed.

After that, we watched TV and played around with video chatting on our laptops while sitting 3 feet away from each other. Google Talk is pretty cool. Then we ate some bean, rice and cheese burritos and just hung out, listening to music and watching "The 40 Year Old Virgin." I love that movie. We went to bed around 1:30 but I didn't want to go to sleep until I was sure that a friend of mine (who had been sending me drunken, cryptic texts) had a sober ride home. Once I was reassured, we went to bed: I wanted to get up in time for the Rose Parade.

It was a great parade: I made a huge bowl of popcorn (hey, it's never too early for popcorn) and curled up on the couch with a blanket to watch. I loved all the marching bands (the Oregon State Marching Band has cool uniforms!), in particular, the Ohio State School for the Blind Marching Band. They were very good, and great to hear.

When it was over, I switched to the Universal Sports channel. They're showing all the past Iron Man competitions, and it was fun to watch, but I decided I wanted to get on my own bike, too.

So I did.

These are not very flattering photos of me (but my bike looks great), but I'm including them because I need to not be so weird about stuff like that. Also I need to lose 10 pounds and what's better inspiration than these photos?

Patrick went off to buy a cymbal (it has a ridiculous name: Mega Bell Ride!) over in the Naples area of Long Beach and I'm ready to take a shower. I wonder if Target is open today...?