Oh My God: I'm Buzzed

Fat Tire beer is so good.

This is my first full-on buzzed post. I'm feeling a bit silly. Isn't that the way it works? I almost want a cigarette. Almost. Almost, almost, almost.

Something...

Anyway, let's see. It's been a terrific day, mellow. I didn't start drinking until about an hour ago.

Have been listening to Devo on Pandora Online Radio (seriously: you gotta check into this. It's cooler than I am making it seem).

Took the day off: sinus headache. Meant to do more today, but it turned out that I could only manage to accomplish the following:

1. Napping
2. Blogging
3. Full-on sleeping
4. Chatting (never did it before, can you believe it? It was fun)
5. Watching "Work Out" on Bravo: the reunion show. Those people are pretty much uninteresting. Won't watch next season. Doug was the light on that show, and he died. Sad.
6. I didn't break out the beer until my workday would've ended, so being at home, looking out the window, listening to "are you experienced" by Devo: cool.
7. Did I mention I was buzzed?

UPDATE:

Okay so three beers in? I am happpppppyyyyyyy.

UPDATE NO. 2

And four beers in? Much better. Fat Tire = Heaven

...

Friday night, I'm going to my friend Paul's birthday party, after my flute lesson. I don't know, he's turning, like, 33. He's young & pretty. Maybe I can talk David (my old boss) into singing "Stop Draggin' My Heart Around" with me, again.

OH, God, I want a cigarette.

Nope, gonna totally resist.

Translator

I've had this song in my head for awhile (click on the title)... Patrick and I heard it on the radio and I had forgotten all about it until now. Great song, and I love the lyrics.

"Everywhere That I'm Not," by Translator

I thought I saw you.
Out on the avenue.
But I guess, it was just someone
Who looked a lot like I remember you do.
'Cause I thought I heard your voice.
In a bar, making a choice.
But no, it was just someone
Who sounded a lot like I remember you do.

'Cause that's impossible, that's im...
That's impossible, that's imposs...
That's impossible, that's impossible.

'Cause you're in New York, but I'm not.
You're in Tokyo, but I'm not.
You're in Nova Scotia, but I'm not.
Yeah, you're everywhere that I'm not.
Yeah, you're everywhere that I'm not.
I'm not, I'm not, I'm not.

I thought I felt your touch.
In my car on my clutch [OK, these are not good lyrics, but the song works]
But I guess, it was just someone
Who felt a lot like I remember you do.

Two-fers

Another item on my blog that first appeared at Julie's. Yep: I'm a copy-cat through and through.

2 names you go by:
Irene
Variations on "Beansie"

2 parts of your heritage:
Mexican
American
("Tahitian" has been rumored but never proven)

2 things that scare you:
Spiders
Getting old

2 of your everyday essentials:
Diet Coke
Checking my email

2 things you are wearing right now:
V-neck black sweater (I have about 10 of them - !)
Tie-dye socks

2 of your favorite bands or musical artists (at the moment):
Devo
Wall of Voodoo

2 favorite songs (at the moment):
"Boys Don't Cry," by the Cure is playing on FM94.9... a perfect song
"My Curse," by the Afghan Whigs

2 things you want in a relationship (other than real love):
Attention (wait, is that one of the things one isn't supposed to say out loud?)
Laughter

2 truths:
I like to exaggerate
I can get obsessed with things to a degree that's probably not very healthy

2 physical things that appeal to you (in the opposite sex):
Mouth, lips
Forearms

2 of your favorite hobbies:
Reading
Playing the flute

2 things you want really badly:
A vacation
To feel comfortable (and look good) in a swimsuit; not necessarily a bikini, but sure, why not?

2 places you want to go on vacation:
New York
Europe
(OK, there are way more places:
Greece
Italy
Spain
Iceland
Canada
Nantucket...)

2 things you want to do before you die:
Drive a race car
Write something other than this blog and email

2 ways that you are stereotypically a dude/chick:
Totally ruled by my emotions
I have to take a shower every day (I don't know. This is a weird question.)

2 things you are thinking about right now:
Um... OK, the clean version:

Getting my car washed (no, that's not a euphemism)
Practicing my flute

2 stores you shop at:
J Crew online
Borders

Jump!

I get up and nothing gets me down!

(By the way, that's a limited edition Magnolia Thunderpussy t-shirt... Stewart, if you want one, we've got one just for you... well, this one, in fact. Click here for more info.)

More pictures here.

Louise's Flowers

My co-worker Louise received these flowers from her boyfriend. Aren't they beautiful?

Giving It a Rest

Even I find crazy a bit tiring.

(I'll just say: I'm listening to my "Klark Kent" station at Pandora, and they're playing a band called "Federation X." I think I heard some specially adapted kinetic klarinet; I think I'm in love!)

...

Busy weekend. Mothers Day was a 2-day holiday for us this year; we spent Saturday with my mother-in-law and my husband's family. It was very nice to all be together, especially with my niece and nephew. They're growing up so fast! We had lunch, and then went back to my mother-in-law's house for cake and ice cream. Patrick brought over the Wii, which the kids love, and we all played a few games. Fun, but tiring!

Sunday, we went to our godson's First Communion. We don't see him or his parents often enough, and then having to go to church, feeling that guilt: it was a hard morning! Because there were so many people in the church, the priest asked that everyone in the house go up for either a blessing or communion; he didn't want anyone staying behind in the pews, because I guess it makes it too hard for people to get in or out (it's a small church).

I haven't been up to the altar in a Catholic church for communion in about a hundred years. It was a bit traumatizing. Of course we had the option of being blessed, which I accepted, but it was weird.

I got to church with a willful attitude - I'm not one of you: I don't have to do what you do - these rules aren't for me! I can stand or sit when I want to, I don't have to kneel. Suckers!

I mean, I haven't been "Catholic" since I was nine, and I haven't really been to church without someone dragging me my whole life... I don't want to talk about God here. It's personal. I have my own ideas. And I know that when I say I felt weird getting blessed most people are going to jump to the conclusion that I am guilty or feel guilty for something. Maybe I am, maybe I do, and maybe I'm not, and maybe I don't.

Um, just: no more church for me for awhile, that's all [did I tell you my mother gave me her copy of "A Purpose Driven Life," or whatever it's called? It's been kicking around in the backseat of my car, unread, for about three months. Not sure what to do about yet. "Thanks but no thanks" doesn't work with my mom, and I don't want to hurt her].

Anyway, after that, we headed over to our friends' house for brunch and visiting, and then we had a bunch of errands to run before going to my mom and dad's house for her mom's day celebration.

It was a nice day, a good weekend, and I had a good time, but I feel like I was never home this weekend, and got nothing done. I had to get up early today so that I could get to work early to get ready for some training our department was doing. My boss was in charge of organizing it, but she was out of town at a conference last week, so working with her e-mailed instructions, my own common sense (luckily I had some this week: it may not seem like it from these posts, but I do have a brain) and with the three members of her staff presenting the material, we were able to get everything set up. We did it at the local Marriott, and they were super-nice, helpful (the AV guy who helped set up the projector and the screen was really great; his name was Tim! Thanks!), and well-organized. I was worried because I had 60 people sign up before I cut it off (and there was plenty whining about that, believe you me); but of course 10 people didn't show up, so that made it easier. I was really worried it would be crowded and hard for 60 people to absorb the material, but it went really well.

After that, I just felt wiped out. I had lunch at Kaiser - the cafeteria is just as good as it was at my old job (same company runs the two cafeterias), and as usual, my only complaint is: no wheat bun for my turkey burger. I just don't get it. I had a huge salad, and a diet coke.

Oh, that reminds me.

Everybody in my family is giving up sodas. My sister, my brother, my other brother's boyfriend: they're all cutting out soda. Diet and regular. It's a bit scary. I've been thinking about it, and have even made plans to not buy more "once we run out of it" but we've gone to Sam's Club twice since I thought that the first time, and both times we stocked up.

Diet Coke. It's a fucking drug.

"County on down!"

Countdown To The Police!

(Click on the link above! I know I will!)

What cracks me up about my last post is the very first sentence:

"Look, if I were to come into, say, hugging distance of Stewart Copeland (and I know there's not much chance of that happening; this is a hypothetical situation), I just want to state for the record that I know that there's a fine line between enthusiasm and assaulting someone."

I mean, I could've just stopped writing, right there, because it doesn't get much funnier than this: "Hugging" distance? What exactly is that? Less than 100 yards? Less than 100 feet? Will I run? Are you picturing the slo-mo replay of me dashing down the 5,000 stairs from my - seriously: nosebleed - seat in Dodger Stadium? By the time I got to the stage, AS IF THAT WERE EVEN POSSIBLE, I would probably have about 10 security guards all over me. I mean, I know I'm a dreamer, but a runner? Hell no.

To even use the word "assault" - It's like me saying, "Look, I know I'm a tad bit crazy. But you can understand, can't you? Give me a break, OK?"

And then I wrote these magical words:

"I know there's not much of a chance..." As if - as if there's a teeny, tiny, eensy weensy chance of anything remotely related to my meeting Stewart Copeland could ever happen! OK, so maybe I'll meet a lookalike. Or maybe, when they're playing "Message In a Bottle," I'll hit all the accents on the right beats while I'm air drumming [generally I don't air drum in public; why do you think I got the windows tinted on my car? Beer at Dodger Stadium will probably be $100 a glass; chances are I'm going to be stone-cold sober that night, with my little heart beating, driving Patrick insane. He might leave me that night: look for me, on the side of the road, trying to bum a ride home, because I will probably push each and every one of that wonderful man's buttons that night. Psycho Wife will be on the prowl, I can assure you]: I have a shot at that happening.

All I know is, I gotta get working on my "Copeland is God" t-shirt. Time is tick-tick-ticking away!

Countydown to THE POLICE at Dodger Stadium

Follows are several scenarios of what could possibly happen when I go see the Police, next month. Holy shit! Next month!

Look, if I were to come into, say, hugging distance of Stewart Copeland (and I know there's not much chance of that happening; this is a hypothetical situation), I just want to state for the record that I know that there's a fine line between enthusiasm and assaulting someone.

I get that.

I understand that the artists don't necessarily want to be in physical contact with their fans. I just can't promise that I'll be cool. I will try to be cool. But I have a feeling that I'm going to be very excited, and even from nine miles away (approximately how far our seats are from the field), I will be imagining that Stewart will Know I am there (just, please, don't fuck up, Stewart. It would be very bad for my marriage for you to play less than brilliantly. I'm serious), and maybe come up and talk to us. And invite us to his home, or something.

Yeah.

Anyway, in case I can't control myself, it's pretty much a given that any one of the following scenarios could occur (it's a choose your own adventure!):

A: I throw myself on stage and start singing "Does Everyone Stare" and get arrested for assault while loudly proclaiming my undying love for Stewart. Look at me, Stewart! I love you! Okay, well then I guess I need to find my own way home, huh.

B: Stewart feels sorry for the little geek (me), posts my bail, and takes me to a romantic spot for coffee. He looks into my big brown slightly skewed eyes, and falls in love. Desperately and passionately in love, both our gray hair turns back blond or brown, respectively.

C. Stewart feels sorry for the little geek (me), posts my bail, and takes me to a romantic spot for coffee (which I don't drink. At this point I should probably be drinking something much stronger. Like bleach), and falls in love with the little geek (still me), and then Patrick, heartbroken and bitter, divorces me.

D. Stewart is so old and brittle [I hope he can take a joke], that when I "hug" (read: assault) him, he breaks an arm. Forced to drop out of the long-awaited reunion tour, he fights one last balls-out fight with Sting. 25 years of bitterness and jealousy explode. Sting kicks him out of the band for good, and doesn't even give him the name of his physical therapist. Sting and Andy hold an open audition to find a replacement drummer. Patrick auditions and gets the gig.

E. Wait. I can't think of anything better than the last part of D.

Inspirational Songs...?

I've actually been thinking about this topic for awhile now, and then Julie beat me to it on her blog. These songs may be a bit weird, way old, and/or crappy, but in certain situations, they work for me. So with no further ado, here are my top 6 inspirational songs:

6. The Greatest Love of All, by Whitney Houston
This was the featured song at the very first Leadership Camp I attended. I think I was in the 7th grade. Our fearless leaders were this crackpot lady named Joni and her trusty "hypnotist" sidekick, Andy, and for six years I'd ride a bus way up into the Angeles forest so I could buy every word these two nutballs had to say about life, living your dreams, and being "you." I want to say that I was a bit skeptical from the start, but that would be a lie. I thought that I just wasn't doing whatever it is they said we should do right, and that's why I wasn't more popular. This song inspires me to show the world the beauty I have inside. Screw the children.

5. If You Want to Sing Out, Sing Out, by Cat Stevens
I just watched Harold and Maude again on TV the other day... it's the first time I've seen it since I was a kid. I love this movie, and I love the hippie-dippy sweetness of this song. It reminds me of what my flute teacher says in my lessons, when I'm learning a new piece and I'm playing all trepidatiously, not making much of a statement. She'll say, "What are you waiting for? Make some music now."

4. Dig, by Incubus
Ah, a song from this century. I don't know, I think all songs with a tambourine are inspirational.

3. Nobody's Fault But Mine, by Led Zeppelin
I just love this song, but other than the title, and when Robert sings those words during the song, these lyrics make absolutely no sense. I mean, it's total nonsense, but when I listen to this song (and this album: Presence is, in my opinion, their best stuff. I know I'm alone in this), it makes me want to, I don't know, ask the devil how to roll the log tonight. What the fuck does that mean?

2. Fly By Night, by Rush
The original geek rock. These guys took all the Ayn Rand-J.R.R. Tolkien-Robert Heinlein-creepy sci fi stuff they could and somehow wrote these crazy songs that almost never fail to fascinate me. There is definitely something compelling about the idea of changing your life just 'cause you said you would. And I love the sextuplet on the drums after ..."Change my life again!" (or is that just two triplets? I'm confused.) The only bad thing about this song is, I got a ticket once while I was listening to Rush on the 10 freeway (right before PCH). So? These guys inspire me to speed.

1. Ride Like the Wind, by Christopher Cross
When I was a kid, I rode my bike everywhere. And there was another kid in the neighborhood who took much enjoyment from torturing me. On my bike and off: he was a jerk. Anyway, he would chase me on my bike, and I, being deathly afraid of him and his gangster brothers, would take off as fast as I could, on my bike.

"Ride Like the Wind" was my song. If I need that extra push? This song fits the bill.

I told Patrick about this once, and ever since, whenever we happen to hear it on the radio or are playing around being goofy, he will hit me with his Michael McDonald imitation ("such a long way to go!")... He made me pee in my pants once with this imitation: it's that good.

BONUS SONG:
My somewhat crappy high school marching band's drum cadence. We always had good drummers, and all six years I marched, they used the same cadence. I have no idea if it was a good cadence; it's the only one I've ever heard, practically (yeah, we heard the other bands' cadences at parades and football games, but ours was the only one that stuck). Anyway, if you see me out walking (which I hate... walking for exercise has to be the dullest thing, ever), and I seem to be keeping a pretty steady beat: this is why. It really keeps me moving along. In the 9th grade they added a tri-tom section, and I don't know why I'm telling you this, suddenly I feel like the world's biggest nerd, ever.

Devandra Banhart / Rejoicing in the Hands

Patrick and I bought this CD a while ago... maybe in early 2006, I don't remember. This week I've been listening to it exclusively in the car. It's beautiful stuff: I know people always try to say, "It's like such and such," and then they name two disparate artists, and that's supposed to give you some idea of what this person sounds like. To me, it's like if Captain Beefheart, Cat Stevens, and Jeff Buckley had a baby: this guy would be that (miracle) baby. More after I listen some more: I have flute choir and that's always a good opportunity to really hear stuff in the car. If you click on the title of today's post, you should get taken to a link where you can hear a snippet of my favorite song, the title track of this album, which came out in '04.

Over the weekend, I learned that I scored in Band 1 for all those secretary tests I took way back in January, and that was really exciting, because I wasn't sure how I did. But then while I was on my way in to work Monday, all jazzed about that, I was involved in a little tiny fender bender on my way to work. Nothing serious, totally didn't damage my car at all, and I don't think the other car was hurt, either. The other guy was very nice, and it was, all in all, a very pleasant experience, except for the cars-hitting-cars part. Am still waiting to hear from the insurance company about how much it's going to cost and everything.

Anyway, that took a little bit of the edge off of my test scores! However, my boss was very quick to get right on putting into motion my raise and promotion, and so come next payday, I will be officially, a Senior Secretary II. Very exciting. Except...

As happy as I am to get the raise and promotion, I think I'm feeling a bit let down. I mean, I did really well on the test, and there ain't no Band higher than Band 1, but... Secretary?

I'm a secretary?

I mean... I've been working my butt off at this new job. It's a zoo. The other secretary has her hands full, and we're both basically juggling as fast as we can. Keeping track of my own work plus everyone else's - I'm busy, man. And tired. I love my new 9/80 schedule, but I have no vacation time, no sick time (I used most of it up last year, going to the doctor with my mother. I'm not saying I wish I hadn't done that, I'm just saying: there's no more elective leave for me for awhile), and that's a huge bummer.

So. I'm a secretary. A Senior Secretary II. OK, then.

I'm going to the flute convention in August, which should be fun, but the flute convention is never relaxing. It's like 18 hours a day of stuff, running here and there. And - Patrick isn't going. We're looking into taking a weekend off in July, but we haven't scheduled anything yet. And I don't know. I'm just feeling a bit blah.

Next week, I will be working at City Garage again, doing the lights. For some reason I'm more nervous than I was last time. I guess I did a good job? I seriously need to go there with more confidence than this, and knowing that isn't making me feel any more confidence. I'm a bit worried: last time I worked the lights, for those two weeks of rehearsals, my job was way more laid back, and being tired for two weeks wasn't a big deal. Now I just can't afford to be spacey at work, and I'm worried. I mean, my work is not brain surgery: please don't think I'm trying to sound all important. But I know what I require to do a good job, and enough sleep is number one on the list.

It must be this crazy insane heat wave we've been having. The last few nights, it's been impossible to sleep. And then there are the spiders.

Our neighbors are remodeling their house next door. They started in February. Mostly it hasn't affected us: they work only on the house during the day, during the week, and the mess is mostly staying in their yard. But Patrick has been seeing huge black widow-esque spiders outside, and that's got me a little freaked out. I'm not a spider fan. I mean, yeah, daddy long-legs: they're OK. And I like that spiders eat other bugs. But there have been a few moments, lying in bed, unable to sleep, when thoughts of the spiders and other creepy-crawly inhabitants of the ripped apart house next door get a bit... too creepy.

Patrick is the world's biggest lover of animals, and usually he refuses to kill anything, including spiders: he catches them and lets them go when they're in the house, scaring me. But seeing as I'm a little overly freaked out about this, he has agreed to kill any bad spider he sees.

Isn't that amazing? It's like asking Hiro to kill Sylar to save Ando, isn't it? Only, minus the time travel and shit.

El Tepeyac

Busy weekend! Today I went back to work for a couple of hours. Managed to work on some projects I've been avoiding, and to make sense of what I have to get done this week. I'm re-doing some forms, and I've been using Adobe Designer kind of blindly: I can do some things but I feel like I'm totally making it up as I go along, and that I'm missing out on something. I know there's more to it, and I need training. That's one of the biggest things I've got to work on. I'm making a ton of new forms for our department, and while I think I have good innate design sense, I really wish I *knew* what I was doing.

Oh, and one of my boss's staff people: someone who reports directly to her? On Friday, this person left an "assignment" in my in-box. For me. Not only was it an assignment, but a crazy one at that. I read their instructions and looked at what was given to me for a long time, and I just couldn't figure it out. Besides the fact that my head was about to explode: the only person who can give me an assignment is my boss. If her people want me to do stuff, they gotta ask her first. It's just not cool to be giving me stuff to do as an assignment. They can ask me to do stuff and I will always say yes, but it has to be with the understanding that my boss knows about it. Because I do not work for her people. Oh, and to top it all off, this person ripped off the assignment sheet I use when I do assignments for my boss to people like this! My beautifully crafted assignment sheet: bastardized like a cheap knock off Coach bag.

Yes, my assignment sheet is lovely. Don't go making your own cheap-ass version of it and then giving me your WORK to do. Sheesh!

Anyway, after I got home, I practiced for a little while (the flute choir's next concert is going to be a retrospective of our past 20 years, so we're playing all stuff we've played at past concerts. One of them is this totally awesome piece called "Blue Train." Last time we played it, I was on piccolo, and the flute one part was covered by these two powerhouse flutists we had at the time. This year I'm playing flute one with my favorite high school flutist, this young kid named Greg. I like playing with him, because he's totally mellow in person, but he really goes for it when he's playing. Nothing seems to intimidate him. He plays so well, he makes me want to be better. It's a good feeling. We have a lot of work to do! It's a tough piece, but I love it: really cool. Needs work!), and then we went to dinner at El Tepayac again.

This is our second trip out there, and it doesn't disappoint. We've been looking for a good Mexican place: our favorite place in Culver City, Cora's, moved locations and changed completely (gone is the home-y atmosphere and free guacamole we used to enjoy so much [my parents used to eat there almost every Friday night; they knew us and we thought they liked us]! The last few times I've eaten there, the food was so-so and expensive, and the service was rotten). We haven't found a Mexican place in LB that lives up to the old Cora's. But I think El Tepayac is pretty darn good. Portions are a bit too big (even the regular plates, not just the Hollenbeck burrito!), but the flavors are dead on. Tonight Patrick had enchiladas with two eggs - I was totally jealous, but my taco and enchilada (no eggs) was really yummy.

Oh, and one more thing about my friend Greg from flute choir: last week, when we were getting ready to work on "Blue Train" (by the way, our version is composed by a Japanese person named R. Hirose; it's not a flute choir arrangement of the John Coltrane song with the same name!), when I went over to stand with him, I asked him something... I forget what, but it was a yes or no question. He answered me with "Yes, ma'am."

I said, hey man, don't call me "ma'am!

He goes, "Oh, does it make you feel old?" (I know this exchange makes him look like a smarty-pants and me like a stoner, but for real, this is how it went. And he's not a smart-ass, he's a good kid.)

And I said, "No! [Of course it does.] Just don't do it!" We laughed about it, and were setting up the music, and a few minutes passed. And I was looking at the music, which has some divisi parts in it, and since I was on the right, it's a given that I would be playing the top line and he would be playing the bottom (and turning the pages!) but I wasn't sure if he knew that. This is his first stint in flute choir. So I said, "Wait a second. If I let you call me 'ma'am' does that mean I get to tell you what to do?"

And he goes, with a big smile on his cute little face, "Sure."

Kids can be fun. It makes me remember how ancient and old and decrepit someone my age seemed to me when I was his age; but I don't feel ancient or decrepit. I feel just the same way I did when I was 16, for the most part, with possibly a better haircut.

Ah: food!

Test Results!

Remember way back in January when I mentioned taking some tests for work? Finally got my results today.

I did good. Hopefully will be seeing some sort of pay raise in my future!

We spent the afternoon with my parents and some friends of theirs, watching the Mayweather-de la Hoya fight. My dad is a huge fight fan, but he's so mellow. He never gets excited or says too much, but you know he's paying really close attention.

It was fun, and a more exciting fight than the sports announcers would've had you believe.

I went in to work for about 2-1/2 hours today... had a bunch of stuff on my desk, and just knowing that I would go in on Monday with more stuff on top of that stuff to do was really weighing on me. I hate feeling behind. It's always nice to be in the office alone. I really like it. I had 94.9 playing on the Internet, and I banged out a lot of stuff. Have more to do, though, so will probably put in another couple of hours tomorrow.

Now, I gotta go get on the trampoline. I ate a lot at my parents' house...

(Irene's) Honda (In-Car) Concert Series

Like most people, I drive around with a ton of CDs in my car. Well, I drive around with a ton of crap in my car, but yeah, most of that crap = CDs.

Since I haven't been reading anything, and therefore have no books to highlight in some kind of monthly recap (a la the old "Weekly Recap," only less, ah, frequent), I thought it might be interesting to write about some of the music I listen to while driving around town.

Last night I mentioned that I'd been listening to the Kinks. I've had their album, Lola versus Powerman and the Moneygoround, for a while now, but I don't listen to it that often. I love Ray Davies' voice! I was talking to a friend of mine, awhile ago, about how many female singers he listens to, and with possibly three exceptions, I mostly prefer a man's voice. I haven't figured out why, though (oh, and those three exceptions? PJ Harvey, Joan Armatrading, and - wait for it - Celine Dion. I know, there are probably better female singers out there, but they're the ones I like*. What can I say?). Anyway, so I'm glad I've been listening to the Kinks, and this album is a really good one.

Tonight on my way to and from my flute lesson, I listened to the Afghan Whigs' 1965. The whole album is really good, but it's not my favorite of theirs. I'm sure I've told this story many times before: Patrick, in 1994 or so, gave me a copy of their album Gentlemen, and ever since then, they definitely rate on my top ten list of favorite bands. I'm not sure why: their music is dark and the lyrics are often referred to, in reviews, as "self-loathing," and while I'm not sure how much the lyrics are a reflection on Greg Dulli, the lead singer and I think main songwriter, I don't think he and I would understand each other in person. His music, however, I totally get. I mean, it's a totally different world of secrets, lies, secret love - he uses the word "fuck" not as an expletive like darn's more emphatic cousin, but as the actual down and dirty act - and he doesn't write about good women (therefore in his songs, women are mostly skanks and users). Maybe he doesn't know any? There's a lot of blame and bad behavior, drug use, and meaningless sex in his songs, and that stuff has been mostly absent in my life (thankfully! I mean it!). But I don't think you have to share the actual experiences to understand the story, and these guys tell a good story. Now, I read in a review that I've never been able to find again that "Greg Dulli has the worst voice in rock and roll" (my memory may have changed the wording of that quote, but I swear I read that sentiment somewhere), but I totally disagree. I love his voice, too.

Anyway, tonight's songs, from "1965," that I really enjoyed were:

Citi Soleil
Neglekted

Check 'em out.

I won't be able to write anything about listening to "Gentlemen" because my copy (#2) broke the other day when I was trying to get it out of the CD case. Yeah, I busted it. I was probably driving and trying to pay attention to the traffic instead of waiting for a safer moment. Well, better the CD than me, right?

*I'm not saying I don't like other women singers, I just can't count. Please add Annie Lennox, Amy Ray and Emily Saliers, the incomparable Chrissie Hynde, Abby Travis, Bjork! of course Bjork, how could I leave her off the original three? Well, because that would make it "four." There's also Annabella Lwin, Dale Bozzio... But seriously: I don't listen to these amazing chicks that often. But when I do? I wish I could sing like them all.

I'm Not Dumb But I Can't Understand...

Ten (More?) Weird Things About Me

Julie has spoken, and I must comply with her request... So here are ten more oddly uninteresting things. About me. What, is this my blog, or yours? If you think about it, pretty much every entry contains at least one weird thing about me, but anyway, here are some more.

I'm going to reverse-order this list... for no reason other than I feel like it. It doesn't really matter, as I'm going to be writing this down in the order they occur to me. Yes, much forethought is involved in these posts, haven't you figured that out yet?

10. Tonight on the way home from Flute Choir (there was a LOT of traffic), I taught myself most of the lyrics of the song "Lola," by the Kinks. Tomorrow I'll try to get past, "It's a mixed up, [something] up shook up world except for Lola..."

And so? The title of this post should be making sense right about now.

9. For someone who doesn't wear makeup, I sure spend a lot of money on facials and skin products. I have to admit, I love getting facials not so much for the science involved (and this month's allergic reaction doesn't make me feel like being adventurous again any time soon), but for the way it makes me feel: pampered, relaxed, and petted.

8. I often awaken in the morning with a song in my head... Usually the song is something really annoying. Sometimes it's the same song more than one day in a row. For the last two days, the song has been the theme to Patrick's favorite TV show: Saul of the Mole Men. I know just a few entries ago I posted that I "hated" this show, but in that magic way he has, Patrick has somehow managed to make me enjoy it. There's just something about that guy that makes me like what he likes. Don't tell him, though.

7. I once had a dream about kissing Kevin, from the "Kevin and Bean Show" on KROQ. Kevin is so not my type.

6. I call myself a "reader," but in the last few months, I haven't read one new book. This is a major deal, because normally, I'm almost always reading something, and while I usually accept my slacker label, this is really starting to bother me. I've been in bookstores, and I even have some books to read, but I've just been uninspired to read anything. It's scaring me, a little.

5. I love TV shows about bridges, dams, floodgates, pyramids, super-huge buildings or machines, oil rigs, machines that tunnel under the sea, how stuff is made, the Panama Canal, cruise ships (how they work and how they're fitted out, not "The Love Boat").

4. This week's episode of "Heroes" made me cry.

3. I have more hair on my arms than Patrick does.

2. My favorite ice cream flavor is "Double Chocolate Malted Crunch" from Thrifty. Yeah, they dropped the "Double" like 25 years ago, but I still use it. It reminds me of going for ice cream after school with SF and Joanna Lux, of being a kid again, before they remodeled the old Thrifty in Culver City, which is now Toys R Us) where you could wander for hours, browsing the cheap jewelry section and the aisle where they had all the weird over-the-counter medications and home remedies. This is from back in the days when kids under a certain age had to have a little ID card in order to go into Toys R Us without an adult, and SF had her brother's card, which I would borrow. His name could be short for Charlene. Or Charlotte. I think Joanna had her own card. Anyway, after getting our ice cream we'd browse Toys R Us, or go roller skating in the park. Damn. I really want to be nine again. Those were the days.

[I felt a little weird using Joanna's real last name... She moved away after the third grade, and I never saw her again. She was one of those kids who were oddly glamorous - at nine, she just seemed smarter, prettier, and more worldly than any of my other friends, and way more than me. I remember the silver-dollar pancakes her mother made us for breakfast the morning after I spent the night - OK, so maybe it's more my own, at age nine, reality of having never been anywhere yet, than her possessing some super-human level of worldliness, but still: she was cool. Wow, I haven't thought about Joanna in a hundred years... I just googled her, and found her name attached to some online magazine called "Ink Blot." I wonder if it's the same girl? I remember it this way: I got double chocolate malted crunch, I think SF would usually get mint & chip, and Joanna liked rainbow sherbet.

Wouldn't it be crazy if I were right about that?]

1. With a few exceptions (Bugs Bunny, OLD Disney), I hate cartoons.

Still Allergically Reactioning

Argh! It's been four days and while my eyes and face look way better than I did on Friday (think ET with a sunburn), I've been really self-conscious about it. Over the weekend, I avoided taking off my sunglasses, and even wore a hat when we went to the LA Times Festival of Books. Sunday I just stayed in, missing our friend David's 40th birthday party. I just felt too alien and ugly to mingle with people. Monday at work, I was very much embarrassed by my new "bad" skin, and I stayed in my seat as much as possible. I guess I could live with the redness, but the bags under my eyes are pretty hideous.

After work today I dropped in at the place I bought the products I'd been using, and my aesthetician (a sweet girl who could probably sell me a used baked potato <-- that's a weird example, isn't it) and the owner both checked me out. Embarrassing. But they both agreed I'm having an allergic reaction (the owner swore I'm only the "second person in 27 years to react like that!"), and with no problem whatsoever, exchanged all the products for Dermalogica stuff. They also reiterated what the doctor said, and that a) there should be no permanent scarring, and b) it should all be a dim memory in 7-10 days. The owner also suggested that I soak a soft cloth washcloth in good ol' vitamin D milk and apply that to my face. We have no milk and I don't feel like going to the market, so I won't be trying it tonight, but that seems like one of those home remedies to sock away in the old mental filing cabinet. As if I have a mental filing cabinet! Or if I do, mine has an invisible door where the rats sneak in and steal my stuff and move shit around, because I can remember hardly anything.

And On To New Topics...

Yesterday, Patrick bought me a mini-trampoline! It's called a rebounder (that was the rejected title of today's post: Irene On the Rebound-er), and I love it. We have it right in the middle of our living room, in front of the TV, and I've been jumping on it happily about five minutes every day. "Every day" = for two days, yeah, yeah. I know five minutes sounds like nothing, but that's some serious exercise for little miss couch potato (hey, I've mentioned potatoes twice in this post. Could someone be craving starches?), and it's a LOT of fun. The instruction manual includes some suggested maneuvers ("Ski Pole" is one of them), but I'm not ready for that yet. Merely jumping up and down and trying to breathe at the same time is enough maneuver for me.

I think I'll go eat something, let my food digest, and then jump some more while I watch last night's "Heroes." I almost watched it while it was on last night, but I've gotten so used to fastforwarding through the commercials, I couldn't stand to sit there. I did see enough to catch a glimpse of Future Hiro, and I LOVE him in 2012! Cute! He looks like Patrick!

Dream Locations

I was checking out my friend Julie's sister's blog, and one of her entries lists the countries that have visited her site. I thought that was totally cool, so through the magic of Google Analytics, I offer you, my own list.

If you see your home on this list, write in and say hello! I can't tell you how cool it is that people in Japan and Portugal are reading my blog! Even if you got here by accident! And to my friends in Texas and New York, I love you guys too! I'm pretty excited about this, actually. Can you tell?

This list is in no particular order, which normally would drive me CRAZY. But, I'm a little geographically-challenged... and I didn't want to seem to be playing favorites.

1. Beijing, China
2. Jinan, China
3. Lishui, China
4. Yokohama, Japan
5. Seattle, Washington
6. Urbana, Illinois
7. Long Beach, California
8. Culver City, California
9. Los Angeles, California
10. Cerritos, California
11. Louisville, Kentucky
12. Fort Worth, Texas
13. Santa Monica, California
14. Austin, Texas
15. Rochester, New York
16. Harper Woods, Michigan
17. Catskill, New York
18. Baltimore, Maryland
19. Feliteira, Portugal
20. Vila Nova De Gaia, Portugal
21. Cagliari, Italy
22. Espoo, Finland (OK, I totally want to go to Espoo)
23. Lappenrata, Finland (Finland has the best place names!)
24. Torino, Italy

Allergic Reaction- !

This morning I woke up with a crazy allergic reaction to something... my eyes were all puffy and itchy, and my neck was red and itchy. My throat felt kind of swollen, too. I called in and made a doctor's appointment. No idea what caused it, but was given some topical medication and some pills, and sent on my way with permission from the MD to stay home.

So yesterday was my wedding anniversary! Nine whole years. Can hardly believe it's been so long. We're going out tonight to celebrate... hopefully no one will think my puffy eyes (it's gone down some but not much) are because of Patrick! When I got home from flute choir, we sat on the couch and watched the video from our wedding. It was cool to see Patrick's dad (he passed away five years ago). I had forgotten that my own dad, upon depositing me at the altar, was crying a little when he answered "Who gives this woman...?" Very sweet. My daddy.

After we watched the video, I got out my wedding dress to see if it still fits. It totally doesn't but it was fun playing dress up, anyway. I need to get it to the dry cleaners. Hey, maybe that's what the allergies were from... It's been hanging in a plastic garment bag, but the zipper wasn't closed completely. Maybe there was a lot of dust or something.

Oh, and an update on my week of debauchery (food debauchery) - I was weighed in, and I lost .2 pounds! It's not much, but it brings the total pounds lost to SEVEN pounds. Am feeling very proud of myself, in spite of my going overboard a few times. Hopefully my idea of going "overboard" is nowhere near what it used to be, and that's why I lost. I don't know, but I was glad I didn't gain.

Today I cheated and watched "Ugly Betty" without waiting for Patrick... I hope he's not mad. We love that show! I'll definitely watch it with hin when he's ready to see it, but I couldn't wait. I stopped at Target on my way home from the doctor and bought some cleaning supplies so I could do some cleaning up around here, but I didn't do anything. Instead I just watched TV and had lunch.

This message is pretty boring, isn't. Perhaps I should've stopped with the title. No, that's not all that interesting, either, is it. Hey, SEVEN POUNDS! Woo-wee!

"Curves" in My Living Room: It's Free, Fun, and Only Takes 12 Minutes

Oh, my god.

What have I done? In the past three days I have eaten all the things I haven't eaten in months.

So to compensate...

After watching "Heroes," I stood up from the couch, and started jogging in place. Did that for awhile, but then it got boring, so a few minutes later, I decided to pretend I was jumping rope. What, no rope? No problem! I did that for a while, and then my calves started to feel a bit cramp-y, so I started walking in place... did that for a few minutes, and then I decided to try jogging in place again. Meanwhile, about nine minutes had passed. Patrick woke up from his nap on the couch, and we were watching The Colbert Report. I don't know if laughter burns calories, but I was definitely breathing hard.

Unfortunately, I could only keep that up for about 12 minutes. However, when I was done, I ran out into the backyard and did two laps on the grass.

I may have looked like a gigantic fool, but who could see me? Only Patrick, and he's seen me doing stupider stuff. And the cats, but they think everything I do is alternately fascinating, or dull: either way, they don't judge.

Oh, and I'm excited: my co-worker Andrea (she looks like Jordin Sparks) brought me a bottle of Diet Coke Plus today, and by tomorrow it should be cold enough to try. Pretty neat.

Fortified!

The Bachelor: Armed and Dangerous

Last night, while putting away the laundry, I somehow found myself watching "The Bachelor: An Officer and a Gentleman." I usually watch at least one full episode of this stupid show every season, if only to remind myself how lucky I am to be married, how glad I am to be halfway intelligent, and to finally appreciate not being in my 20s anymore.

I have a couple of issues with this year's Bachelor. For one thing, why did they steal the title of a perfectly good (if incredibly sappy) movie? I haven't figured out what it is, exactly, that makes Andy a "gentleman." And then, is it just me, but with that title, shouldn't this be the gay bachelor? Are these women identifying with Debra Winger? Debra's character was lucky to have all her teeth - the women on this show don't even seem to have all their brains. The crying, the backstabbing, the ankle turning... ! The girls who don't like to ski! The rumors about so-and-so almost having sex with Andy! Almost! What drama over a slightly sweaty guy!

I mean, he seems normal enough, and to have some (possibly scripted) self-awareness, but the total crap this guy says to the women! If I met a guy who spoke to me the way Andy speaks to them, I would wet my pants from laughing. I'm not just saying the guy doesn't speak well - I'm saying the guy sounds so smarmy and insincere that for these dimwitted girls to say they're "falling in love with him" or "could fall in love with him" (and more than one of them has said that!) makes me wonder if ABC is giving them all roofies.

Anyway, not even "Television Without Pity" bothers to write a recap of this stupid-ass show, and I wonder if my watching it lowered my capacity for common sense. If so, I would like to blame today's misguided trip to McDonald's on... The Bachelor. Andy Baldwin, you owe me a gym membership.

...

"The Bachelor: The Rich Dufus Returns"
"The Bachelor: Andy Baldwin Gets Married"
"The Bachelor: Die (Watching) Another Day"
"The Bachelor: Apocolapyse Now Redux"
"The Bachelor: Curse of the Pearl Necklace"

I know, these are lame, childish, gross... but funny to me!

Pandora Internet Radio + Lately, Weird Dreams, and, a Trip to the Record Store

I know I already blogged about this, but I just wanted to mention it again. Patrick and I are totally hooked on Pandora Internet Radio. It's gotta be the smartest thing I personally have found on the internet. It's a free, totally legal way to hear really good music on the internet, and you get to program it based on your own tastes and desires. It's like when you asked the cool kid (or a dorky kid's older brother) to make you a mix tape back in high school.

For instance, my station right now is XTC... I just started playing songs a few moments ago, and it started with a demo from their boxed set, "Apple Box," called "I'd Like That." I don't have this album, and so had never heard this song, and honestly, where else would I have heard it? Definitely not on LA radio! Pandora followed that up wtih "Mission of My Soul," by Peter Himmelman, who I'd never heard of. All this stuff tonight is fairly mellow, but these are good songs, and I'm happy. And if I need something a big more "beat-y," I can always switch to one of our other radio stations... I've just switched to my "At the Drive-In" station, and they're playing "Rascuache", a song I do know, and love. So? Happy on all counts is me.

...

Now on to topic no. 2. I don't know why I persist in writing about my dreams. They have been a tiny bit weird lately, but on closer inspection, I know that they're all just related to stuff I've been thinking about lately. Friday night I dreamed (I never know if "dreamt" is a real word. It looks fake to me) that I was at a dinner with the director of City Garage and her husband, and this flutist guy from Germany (flutist guy from Germany not based on anybody I really know). Frederique wanted us to play some music in another show she was doing... I guess she knew him, and he was a composer. I still wonder if I couldn't have come up with better stuff for my parts in "The Bacchae." I liked what I played, but none of it really felt like real music. I'm not a composer, but I wonder if it couldn've been better. Crazy, huh? I mean, the music was barely mentioned in any of the reviews, and never the quality of my playing or the actual notes. It would've been nice if that had been recognized. Anyway, see? Obviously that's why I had this particular dream. Anyway, German guy didn't want to play with me, maybe because he was/is/thought he was/is a better musician than I am. He also didn't want to play with an American because in his opinion, American musicians are "too emotional." For some reason, in the dream, I took a real strong position, and was really trying to convince him that's not necessarily a bad thing. I don't know if I'd really do that, esp. argue with someone I don't know, who may or may not be a better musician. It's doubtful that I would be as ballsy as I was in the dream. Especially in front of Frederique and Charles, who are great, but don't inspire me to be very outspoken.

I do like the way I was dressed in the dream - I had on this black dress over a purple tank top. I'd never wear it in real life but it was pretty.

Anyway, whatever. I know dreams are boring, and I'm not exactly describing this one very dynamically.

...

re: Record Stores

Sunday, we went to CPK for lunch (please don't tell me how many WW points the mushroom pizza is, because I ate the whole damn thing. I love that they offer honey wheat dough now, but I think I blew it on Sunday, big time), and afterwards, drove down to Fingerprints record store. It's a cool store, but you have to know this about me: I last about 20 minutes, tops, in record stores before I start getting really bored. I go in, and I try to remember everything I want, and then I look for those things, and then? If I find them I buy them. If I don't? I go home. I just can't stand around and browse through 1000s of used CDs, most of them misfield or upside down... I just can't do it.

Patrick can, though, and would, if I weren't standing around, trying not to ask, "are you done?" I hate to rush him, and I wish there was a bookstore or a shoe store nearby for me to browse while he does his thing. It must be the way he feels when I take him to the bookstore with me.

Antonius

Today, while Patrick was at work, slaving away (!), I slept in, moved slowly, and at around 2:30, managed to cart my ass to Ikea.

We just got rid of our old junky dresser last week. It's been in our closet for awhile, holding mostly our underwear and some of my pants. Patrick's pants are kept elsewhere, and one of the drawers was broken, so because the broken drawer was pulled out and kept on top as sort of a bin (collector of receipts and spare change, apparently), invariably my pants would come out of the other drawer, below the one we pulled out, wrinkled and full of cat hair. Are you picturing my busted dresser? Anyway, we finally got sick and tired of the goddamn cheap ass broken dresser, so while perusing the Ikea catalog sometime during the last week, I came upon Antonious. It's not pretty, but it was cheap, and since it's sort of tucked away in the closet, looks don't really matter. Also, the one I bought is a bit different than what you see here: mine has the clear plastic bins, for example, and the worktop I bought is their fake wood veneer instead of plain white. I've had that plain white before, and that crap doesn't clean up very well.

By the way, I know it's Saturday, but Ikea was packed tight. There were a ton of people there. I've been finding myself annoyed with people. Maybe I'm getting old, but people are rude. They were bumping into me with their strollers, their shopping carts. Kids were blocking aisles with parents standing idly by. Not one person said "excuse me." I didn't want to push a shopping cart through the whole store, so I was armed only with my big yellow bag, which wasn't big enough for Antonius's worktop and bins, so I had to muscle it all down one more flight of stairs. I was actually pretty proud of myself - I realized that I forgot to add, to my list of things I "can't do," that I can't walk downstairs without holding either someone's hand or the rail. I don't think I've ever actually fallen downstairs (except for that one time at fifth grade graduation, in front of the whole graduating classes of fifth and sixth graders, their friends and families, and the teachers. Oh, yeah, there was that one time), but I have a lot of fears of going downstairs. And there I was, with both hands full, and a big old bag on my shoulder, in flip flops for god's sake, cruising. Oh, and I don't have much "muscle."

So I got home, and banged that thing together (literally), and it now stands in our closet, kinda homely, but it works.

Charter Communications Sucks: Update

Worst customer service, ever.

We had a service call scheduled for today... we've been having trouble with our box overheating, and then last week we were blocked from watching some basic channels (Bravo, Food Network, CNN - basically? The only channels we care about). Patrick called in for service, and scheduled for someone to come today, on my day off. They were supposed to come between 10 and 12.

At 9:15, I got up and took a shower. I was still in the bathroom when the guy called. I hopped out of the shower and ran for the phone, but of course I missed it. Here is, word for word, the message he left on my machine:

"Hi, good morning we're calling from Charter Cable, Cable company. The time right now is 9:30; this is our first attempt to try to reach somebody at home for our cable guy to stop guy. Your appointment is 10-12, so we will be calling within your time frame to see if someone is available. Thank you."

OK, so by "first attempt," you would think they would make, oh, I don't know, a second attempt, wouldn't you?

I got dressed and expected to hear a knock at my door or for the phone to ring, but the only other call I received this morning was from somebody calling from Barak Obama's campaign to see if I was interested in donating (their pitch is to turn it into a competition. The girl said, "Most people have been giving $200! Can you meet that donation level?" I was all, um, No, but good luck to Obama anyway! Aren't political donations the realm of the rich and famous?).

I had an appointment at 12, so at 11:00, when they guy didn't show, I called to reschedule. At 11:45, I decided to call Charter to see what was going on.

I got stuck in a loop on their automated menu system... "3" was the designated number for my particular problem, but all pressing 3 got me was... a repeat of the same menu choices. And surprisingly: "I pressed 3, you fucking idiot machine!" got me nowhere. Oh, and pressing "0" for an operator was not a choice. I hung up and called back, and pressed no numbers, hoping they might mistake me for a poor person with a rotary phone, but that didn't work, either. Finally I guessed that it might be the phone (the office phone is cordless. don't ask me why I made that assumption: I was grasping at straws), so I went into the living room, and pulled the kitchen phone around the corner so I could sit on the couch and watch the end of "About Last Night."

Finally I got through to a human, and poor her: I was pissed. The woman I spoke to tried to tell me that my call had been canceled by dispatch after a second call was made to me, at 10 a.m. OK, that's a big fat lie: they didn't call. I've been here, watching TV, eating WW friendly food, and they did not call. I asked her why they bother calling before showing up if they're not going to give you an opportunity to call them back: what's the point of that? I went off on her, a bit. Anyway, I put on quite a show, and I'll spare you the details. I did give her credit for being nice (she was), and I said I knew it wasn't her fault, and I explained about the runaround I got from the automated system, and she pulled a classic "customer service-ism" on me by saying she understood I was frustrated, but then she also told me that my service appointment had been canceled. And I, without cussing, told her that was unacceptable - I said I had taken the day off of work (a white lie) and had rescheduled an appointment (at the spa - !) and I wanted someone out today. She said it might not be possible, because the tech would have gone on to the next call, and I said, look, I've been on the phone now for 45 minutes. Someone will be at my house, today (cue scary music). I asked to speak to her supervisor, and after sitting on hold for 30 minutes, he finally got on the line.

He apologized (he sounded like he looks like this guy), and was actually really nice. He kept putting me on hold (I know that's a technique they use to either get upset people to calm down or hang up. Knowing that, I calmed down, but only a little), but would come back to check on me. Finally he came back one last time and said he was able to reschedule my call for today, but he couldn't give me a time frame - now I have to sit around and wait for them to show up anytime between now, and 8 p.m.

I know the cable company and other places that make house calls have reputations for lousy customer service, and I'm sure everybody has had the same kind of experience. Being pissed off is NOT fun - I don't think I earned any WW activity points (or did I? My heart rate was raised). The thing that's funny about all this, though, is that apparently Charter thinks they have the best customer service, ever. Their website is all, "for 24-hour customer service, contact us!" But when you do contact them, getting stuck in the loop of a demonic automated menu - that's not customer service. Being directed to a link of "FAQs" that don't address your specific question - that's not customer service.

...

Update @ 11:46 a.m., 4/21
So, Patrick came home from work at around 3 p.m. (he was supposed to be off yesterday, because he works today, but he went in to pick up some overtime and prepare for a project), and I was able to head off for my appointment at the spa (my aesthetician did a glycolic treatment on me, and I'm not so sure it was successful. I have a bit of redness today). When I came home, around 5, "Juan" from Charter was here, trading out our old box. Luckily we didn't have to wait until 8!

Tuesday Night Stuff

Re: Weight Watchers:

I had a terrific week last week, but this week I've struggled. I'll admit it: I didn't write anything down and while I did sort of take the time to figure out what the points were of everything I put into my mouth (wait, what?) I wasn't exactly "scientific" about it. For instance... I've been walking up the street (good) to the Kaiser cafeteria, where I get a salad (good)... but then I pair that salad with a turkey burger (bad). A turkey burger = 5 points, and they don't, for some reason, have wheat buns, which disappoints me. And then instead of bringing my own low-fat salad dressing in my purse, which would be smart - I splurge on the 1,000 island dressing. Yes: a small amount, but it seems so damn decadent!

And then we'd better not even discuss tonight's dinner... Patrick went to Sam's Club and brought home some incredible sausages ("Hillshire Farm Old World Cheddarwurst") that he grilled... I also had grilled chicken breast and mushrooms, which are fine, and one of them before I checked the points (8. Not good)... and one more after. Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

Anyway, this week I gotta be better. I just hope I didn't gain.

Tonight I said the words I regrettably don't say often enough:

(To Patrick) "There's nothing on TV!"

So what'd I do instead? I vacuumed with my new vacuum!

A few months ago I "donated" our old vacuum to City Garage... they needed one, and I hated ours, so it seemed like the perfect thing to do. Patrick wasn't super happy about it, though, and has been begging me to pick out a replacement. Since then we've been using my Christmas present hand-vac, which works great, but doing the whole house in that crouched position was not good for my back. Finally, this past weekend on a trip to Target, we got our new one.

Now see, I think maybe I was holding out because I thought I might be able to somehow talk myself into not feeling guilty about spending a crazy amount of money on this monster, but unfortunately, common sense prevailed (damn) and we bought, instead, this.

It was pretty cheap ($59), and man is it green - I'm happy with it.

See what happens when there's nothing on TV? I blog about my vacuum. And no, that's not a euphemism.

So here we go... I just sat down and switched on "Gilmore Girls." I watched about five minutes before switching the channel. Even the actors on the show don't seem to care anymore. Poor Lauren Graham, doing the same shit.

Now I'm watching "American Idol," and it's not my favorite show, I don't watch every week, I've seen a few episodes and have a favorite (Melinda), but just watched Jordin Sparks kill her song, and I mean that in a good way. She's a little out of control when she lets go, but damn, she's good. Unfortunately "Sanjaya" is up next, and I don't know. Do I stick around and watch? Do I change the station? I can't decide. I've seen him before and he's amazingly bad, and it seems kinda ridiculous that he's still around with the "real" singers... We'll see. It's still commercials, but I have the remote close at hand.

[Since I moved on to the next topic, Sanjaya has taken the AI stage, wearing an ENORMOUS red bandanna... now he's "breaking it down," "doing his thing," and boy, am I not impressed. He does sound better than I expected, but he's really not that good. And please know that I wrote that before Randy said the same exact thing.]

...

Work this week has been busy. Nothing new there... We're always busy. I have a new thing I've been doing... at my last job I was introduced to the art of maintaining a "tickler" file, and since I had pretty much nothing to do there, I had plenty of time to ponder how best to maintain order and productivity at work. Granted, at the last job, it was all theoretical (did I mention I had nothing to do?), but now that I'm working someplace where the work never ends ("busy, busy, busy," to quote Kurt Vonnegut), I've had to sort of figure out what works for me. And the tickler works, believe it or not. Anyway, the new thing is simple, and not life altering in the least, but it seems to be helping me keep track of the 900 pieces of paper that sometimes litter my desk like snow, and I'm sure once I get around to telling you about instead of building this up like some kind of exciting secret, you'll be all, "that's it?"

Anyway, so everyday I dump out my folder for the day, and I move it from the hanging folder to a yellow file folder that says "today" on it. A lot of times all the stuff I have to do all day is just following up with people; my boss copies me on practically every email she sends to her staff, and it's my job to go back a few days later and find out if they actually did what they were asked to do. Having everything there, within reach but put away makes it a little easier to concentrate without wondering if I'm forgetting something.

Anyway, writing this down, even I am thinking: So?

Yep.

So?

Things I Can't Do

Eat a meal alone without reading material.

Parallel park with an audience.

Spell "parallel" correctly on the first try.

When cooking something from a recipe, purchase all the necessary items at the grocery store on the first try.

Watch "Saul of the Mole Men" with Patrick one more goddamn time. He's watching it in the living room, and I'm in the office, and just hearing it is making my fucking eye twitch.

Not share my meals at home with Franny, the kitten with the bottomless stomach.

Finish books I don't like (I know people who will force themselves to read every word of a crappy book, and for the life of me, I can't figure out why they do it. Seems like an enormous waste of time to me).

Wear lipstick or lipgloss without eating it.

Franny and Me

Good god, my kitten is cute!

Easter Photo

This is the lamb cake I ordered. No, it's not made of lamb, it's just shaped like one.

Best Day Ever + Lotsa Links

OK, so I'll admit it right off the bat:

We didn't paint today.

Instead, we slept in until 10, listened to "Car Talk" on the radio, ate a strange breakfast (we shared a rice cake slathered in peanut butter and jelly. Patrick was a bit too generous), got dressed and went to the Cypress swap meet. I haven't been in a long time, but we used to go together practically every weekend. Patrick likes to go to get his walk in, so he goes more frequently, but I just can't go all the time.

We bought: a strainer, a big loofah, and and icee. Took us two hours to walk the whole thing. It is truly a beautiful day, and we had fun. Afterwards, we checked out Bionic Records, which is right across the street. Bought Devo (Are We Not Men?) for me; Quicksand and Lamb of God for Patrick. I can't believe there are no more Tower Records, anywhere. Bionic was cool; the guy there was playing a band I'm a little bit interested in, called "LCD Sound System." They were a little bit Talking Heads, a little bit Human League, a little bit something else 80s. Oh! And they had a new copy of "Starin' Down the Sun" for sale!

After that, we went to Katella Deli for lunch... kind of an old folks hangout, but the food was yummy. I had matzoh ball soup and a grilled cheese sandwich (on wheat, thank you), with a side of steamed vegetables. We shared a turkey knish, and Patrick had some kind of crazy pastrami sandwich. It looked delicious. The service was terrific.

After that, we decided to check out one of the other locations listed on the business card I got at Bionic Records... we thought there might be a second location in Huntington Beach. On our way there, we decided to call and found out that the HB location closed in January, so instead we went to the beach.

Turns out we were at the Dog Beach, and that was totally cool. Checked out all the really cute doggies running around in the ocean, and the people walking around, and the surfers. Would love to visit that beach again.

On the way home, we listened to my Devo CD, and I am currently in LOVE with "Sloppy" (track 10). Terrific song. "Mongoloid" is pretty cool, too, though - not very politically correct.

Now I'm home, checking out this thing online called "Pandora Internet Radio." It's this thing created by the "Music Genome Project," and it notes your requested music, and suggests (and plays!) songs or bands that are similar to what you searched for. For example, I typed in "Wall of Voodoo," and have so far heard a song called "Lipgloss" by a band called "Pulp" (pretty cool), a song called "The Great Pretender" by Brian Eno, and "Misfit Kid," by the Cars. ... In fact, I think all these "Wall of Voodoo" songs have been awesome. You can see the station I created by clicking here!

And, just as a reminder, if you want a cool online radio station you don't have to program yourself, you should really check out FM 94.9, the San Diego station. I listened to it all last night and every single song was perfect.

Weekly Recap

This was a week with a few peaks and valleys, albeit, mostly small ones, so I thought I'd sum it up for you on a day to day basis. For the hell of it.

On Monday, I went to the LA Weekly Awards. You can read my rather terse summary, here, in case you missed it the first time. No photos of me, but here's one my friend Nita took. It's technically a photo of my friend Ed, but if you look closely, that's me sitting next to him in the blue dress. I'm so glad I took the time to do my hair and stuff. You know, because so many people caught that on film.

Tuesday, not much happened. I know for sure that I got up and went to work. And then came home. I think I might've practiced my flute for all of 30 minutes. Other than that, it's a blur.

Wednesday was kind of a roller coaster. Well, maybe a kiddie roller coaster. On my way to work, I got a speeding ticket. What's dumb about it is, I saw the guy. It should've been no surprise to me that he would be there, because I see that stupid motorcycle cop on a regular basis. And did I slow down? No... He caught me on the street that my parking lot for work is on, and he regularly sits in the driveway of the County facility next door, waiting for (suckers) like me to speed by. That particular stretch of road changes from 40 MPH to 30 MPH right there, and if you're not careful... you will be caught. I will admit that I hoped he would see me pulling into a County facility and give me a break, but I see now that the City of Downey is not like the City of Lynwood ("corrupt"), and he followed me into the parking lot. It was embarrassing, and stupid, and I was pissed off, but whatever. If I can, I'll do online traffic school again, because the last time I got a ticket, instead of wasting away for 8 hours in some boring class, I got to lie on the couch and watch TV while doing traffic school, and I got to do it over, I think, a week. And I got to do it with a beer in my hand, which was definitely nice. Anyway, part of the problem might've been, I was listening to Incubus's song "Anna Molly" on the radio, and I was a bit distracted. I love that song, yet I hate loving it: liking Incubus might be my dirty little secret. I've gone to the store and looked at their album more than once, but I just can't bring myself to buy it. "Dig" is one of those songs, where, if Patrick were in the car with me, I would totally rag on it, but still totally love it. Don't ask me why I'm so defensive of my affection for these guys, I can't explain it. I think they're not good enough for me to like, yet I like them anyway.

I guess I'm a snob. Sorry, dudes.

Anyway, then later that day, at lunch, I went to my Weight Watchers meeting.

I will admit that I have been getting really frustrated. At the last few meetings, I've either lost 0 pounds (and just how is that possible?) or I've lost a marginal amount (.6). The big numbers weren't showing up, and even though I was following the rules and being good and goddamn it, walking, I wasn't seeing the results I wanted.

Anyway, guess what. This week? I lost 3.2 pounds! Leslie (our totally cool leader) was really enthusiastic and friendly (she's the best WW leader I've had so far), and the rest of the people were happy for me, too. I really like this group, they're really nice, and encouraging, and inspiring. Most of them have more weight to lose than I do, but everyone has lost a ton already, and they keep doing it. They are totally motivated, and it's good for me to see that.

So the day (Wednesday. We're on Wednesday. Could you please keep up?) got even better, because I got to leave work early to go to "an appointment." That's all I told my boss when I requested the time off.

What happened was, I got a massage.

I haven't had one in ages, and one day last year, after visiting my chiropractor's office a few times, he recommended a massage. I saw a few of the female massage therapists, and it was fine, but nothing special. Then one day, I lucked out and got scheduled with Bruce.

Bruce is an older guy, maybe in his 60s, and he is the coolest, best massage therapist, ever. This guy makes me feel so comfortable, so relaxed. He comes out to the waiting room to collect you, when it's time for your appointment, wearing no shoes, but socks (and pants and a shirt, if you're keeping track). I just love him. He collects didgeridoos and we've had some pretty interesting conversations about flutes. At first I was a little anxious about having a guy, but this guy is just really nice, and so good at his job. I love my appointments (I have another in 2 weeks!). So the day? Way better than when it began, until....

I heard on the radio that Kurt Vonnegut had died. Like most people, I read him in high school (he was recommended to me by Jay Schwartz, a very cool dude himself), but because I like to re-read things, have gone back and read him again since then. I probably don't have anything to say about reading him that hasn't been said by other people; I loved his books ("Cat's Cradle" is a favorite), and I loved the way he made me think about things, and I was really, really sad to hear about him dying. A guy once told me, after offering an unfiltered cigarette (back in the days when I still smoked), "Kurt Vonnegut smokes Pall Malls." If I ever were to write a song, I think I'd start with that line.

Anyway, I think it's time for me to re-read my favorite of his novels, "Cat's Cradle."

Thursday, I worked late to make up for leaving early on Wednesday (I have very little vacation or sick time, and need to stockpile for my vacation to Albuquerque in August), and ended up staying at work until 7:30. It was a long, long, day, and towards the end I was more than a little bleary eyed and confused. After work, Patrick and I went to Sam's Club, the gas station, and Old Navy, where I bought two t-shirts and some pants a size smaller than my normal size (woo wee!). Then we came home and for some reason stayed up until midnight watching the season finale of "Top Design" (Matt won, as I knew he would).

This morning, my alarm clock went nutty and went off 20 minutes early (well, it thought it was the right time... my alarm clock has been malfunctioning lately. Or I've been handling it improperly, which is more likely), so I thought it was 6:15 when it was really 5:45. Waking up 30 minutes early was a bummer. Also, Patrick was not pleased at being awakened earlier than usual (he doesn't have to get up until 6:45). I thought all that waking up early stuff would make me grumpy at work but it turned out to be the opposite. I had a nice day, and accomplished a lot of stuff, and made a few people laugh, which always makes me happy. On the way home, I stopped at LensCrafters and got my eyeglasses adjusted, and now? I'm home, writing to you.

Tomorrow we plan on FINALLY painting the bedroom. Tonight I plan on cleaning it out and doing some laundry, and watching TV and eating a WW friendly meal. I'm looking forward to having a night to just chill. As should all of you.

Enjoy your weekend.

What Can a Thoughtful Man Hope for Mankind on Earth, Given the Experience of the Past Million Years?

Nothing.

- Kurt Vonnegut, Cat's Cradle

...

Kurt Vonnegut died yesterday. He was 84 years old.

LA Weekly Awards

I survived my night out in heels.

It was a mostly fun night. I left LB at 4:30 so that I could get to Hollywood and meet the other City Garage-ers at 6:15. Traffic on the 5 freeway sucked, and it took about 2 hours to get there. I was fine, I just Walter Mitty'd my way through Boyle Heights. Once there, I stupidly paid $20 to park. Maybe if I'd been earlier, or with someone more adventurous, or wearing less high heels, I might've parked somewhere cheaper but I had $20, and I guess spending it on parking was better than spending it on booze.

I had to go to the Avalon, which, I'm told, was The Hollywood Palace in another lifetime. It's right across the street from the Capitol Records building, which was totally cool. The Avalon itself seemed a tad bit small for the event - according to the LA Weekly's own story, supposedly 700 people were crammed in, and for most of us, seating was either non-existent, or consisted of a flimsy cushion on a narrow banquette. "Cozy" is one way to describe it. "Fucking crowded" is another. Click here for the Weekly's own summary, and there are photos. I forgot my camera, so you'll just have to take my word for it: my friends were all got up in their 1940s era-clothes (David and Justin take the top honors - but then, I think they probably look the best in most outings they find themselves on. Max was also pretty sharp in his white zoot suit), and I thought we were a pretty good-looking group.

City Garage won one of the three categories they were nominated in (Production Design). Congratulations, City Garage! I'll work for free any day!

Wait a minute...

*Photo Credit: Paul M. Rubenstein

You may have noticed that I'm not in this photo. Well, it can't all be about me, now can it?

From left to right:

Jeff, Bo, Marie-Francoise, Justin, Nita, Ed, Alisha (or is that Alexandra? I get them confused), Crystal.

Beautiful, every simgle one of them.

Adventures in Big Girl Shoes

The other day I made a decision: I want to be the type of woman who can wear high heels.

Up until now, I've bought my share of flats or moderate heels - shoes that are comfortable, practical, easy to walk in. I do love shoes, and over the years I've figured out what type works for me. Considering that I am pigeon-toed, clumsy, near-sighted, prone to tripping, and possess lousy depth perception, I've done alright finding cute shoes that don't make me a hazard to myself or others.

I think I've mentioned in this space that I'm going to be going to the LA Weekly Theater Awards show this Monday. To be honest with you, I'm excited that City Garage has been nominated, and I know that we truly deserve to win, but my real excitement was having an excuse to get dressed up.

I'm naturally a jeans and flip-flops kind of girl. To work I wear khakis and one of my many black sweaters to work most of the time. I've never been a girly-girl, and I don't wear makeup, and I do like to have pretty hair but honestly, I don't care that much, and would rather sleep in than fuss with myself in the mornings. But now, at the ripe old age of 35, I've decided that the ability to walk in heels is a skill I want to have.

When I was invited to go with the City Garage people to the awards show, it got me to thinking. These people have mostly seen me bundled up to work the freezing cold light/sound booth, or in my comfortable clothes, or my "black" rehearsal clothes. When I did The Bacchae, I was a little body conscious in that crowd of gorgeous thin girls, and so I changed as quickly as possible backstage into my big t-shirts for rehearsals, or my "caftan" for performances. But for this event, I think it's going to be fun to be "dressed up." I asked my friend Sarah for some recommendations, and I checked with my friend Bo's wife, who will also be attending (she told me to wear a "cocktail" dress, which was pretty funny, when you consider my wardrobe! A cocktail dress in my closet would have no one to talk to), and I think I've bought something pretty, comfortable, and appropriate. Yesterday I got the shoes. Frederique, the director at City Garage, has inspired me. I've seen her wearing super-high heels and walking perfectly confidently. I think she's actually more comfortable in heels than flats!

I bought two pairs of shoes this week: one for the event, and one for work. The photo above is close to what I bought for the event. I couldn't find the exact ones online (I bought them at DSW). For one thing, mine are NOT patent leather! They look really cute on.

Today, I'm wearing a pair of those long pants, and the shoes I bought for work. I'm doing OK - my feet don't hurt, and I haven't tripped or fallen. They're pretty shoes, and the long pants keep me from feeling too exposed or stupid. I watched a video last week of some woman who was on Rachael Ray's show, showing the audience how to walk. Rachael Ray makes my eyes and ears bleed, and so even 5 minutes of her show was hell, but I did get a few tips from the guest. I've been conscious of my posture, and trying to keep my butt from sticking out!

Maybe I wish I'd learned these things 10, 15 years ago, but I'm having fun, now, anyway.

Byron Hoyt

I'm pretty sure this isn't a very timely post from me... but it was news to me to find out that Byron Hoyt, the huge music store in San Francisco, has closed. Not sure when it happened, but today is the day I found out about it.

Friday night at my flute lesson, we chose my next flute solo - I'm going to be playing "First Sonata for Flute and Piano," by Bohuslav Martinu. I'm excited about it, actually. New piece!

Anyway, this morning I sat down at my computer to look up the number for Byron Hoyt - they're the ones I've been buying music from for all this time, pretty much. I even got to go there, twice, and it was a pretty cool experience. Huge place, everything you could imagine. Anyway, most of my buying has been by phone, and they were always nice, helpful, and FAST.

But now they're closed.

So my next choice is Old Town Music, in Pasadena. I'm hoping they have the music in stock, and we can just go pick it up. It seems like a very nice day to drive to Pasadena.

I'm on hold now... they're looking.

Darn: they don't have it. OK, so my last choice is Flute World. They're an online place, so I usually deal with them when I go to the convention, but they're pretty fast, and reliable... Seems to me that their price is $2 more than I saw somewhere else online, but I'd rather go with someplace I know.

Unfortunately, I was up most of the night with a headache... I still have a tiny one, even now. I woke up at 2:30 and took some Tylenol... I don't usually get headaches like this. I feel a lot better though. I'm thinking it might be a reaction from when I ate yesterday...

We went to a barbecue in Lakewood for my Aunt Mary, at my cousin Mike's girlfriend's house. She lives about 5 minutes away from us, which was nice, for a change. My family is spread out, and usually we have to go to the valley or San Diego to see them. Anyway, I was good all morning, and just had carrots for breakfast, anticipating that I would be unable to resist hamburgers and hot dogs, food I haven't eaten in weeks. And I was right: I was unable to resist. Mike makes a hell of a burger. I was lucky though - they served carrot cake, which I don't like, so I was able to pass on that.

So I came home and calculated all the food I ate, and saw that I didn't do that badly: I went over my allotted points for the day, yes, but not by too much. I even counted that beer I drank! But maybe, in not eating that way for a while, I shocked my body or something, because at around 8:30, I had the worst headache, and I actually went to bed.