What I have found is that it’s necessary to make sure the American people understand what we have to say, what we stand for as a husband and wife, and what we will do for the American people if we’re lucky enough to be elected - Cindy McCain
Excuse me, Mrs. McCain?
YOU will not be elected to anything in November. The presidency, like pregnancy, belongs to one half of a couple - the other half is just along for the ride.
So, the phone system in our office is a bit screwy at the moment - almost everyone's extension rings through to my desk. Our telecomm guy and the engineer from the phone company have been trying to straighten it out for the better part of 3 days and we're coping as best we can in the mean time.
Or at least most of us are.
*ring, ring*
Me: This is Amandarin
She: Oh, uh, can you transfer me to Mr. X?
Me: Unfortunately, our phone system is a little screwy at the moment so...
She: Just transfer me
Me: As I was about to say, I can't transfer you bu...
She: Yes you can
Me: No, I can't, but if you'll hold on ju...
She: I'd. Like. You. To. Transfer. Me. To. Mr. X. NOW.
Me: Let me transfer you to our Receptionist and I'm sure she can help you.
Wouldn't you know it? Our screwy phone system just accidentally disconnected the call. What a shame.
John McCain has been accusing the media of practicing "gotcha" journalism and jumping on any opportunity to twist Palin's words and make her sound uninformed (see: the Pakistan thing).
Sadly, they don't need to twist her words. Here, for example, is a transcript of her exchange with Katie Couric re: the bail-out.
Katie Couric: Why isn't it better, Gov. Palin, to spend $700 billion helping middle-class families who are struggling with health care, housing, gas and groceries; allow them to spend more and put more money into the economy instead of helping these big financial institutions that played a role in creating this mess?
Gov. Sarah Palin: That's why I say I, like every American I'm speaking with, we're ill about this position that we have been put in where it is the taxpayers looking to bail out. But ultimately, what the bailout does is help those who are concerned about the health-care reform that is needed to help shore up our economy, helping the -- it's got to be all about job creation, too, shoring up our economy and putting it back on the right track. So health-care reform and reducing taxes and reining in spending has got to accompany tax reductions and tax relief for Americans. And trade, we've got to see trade as opportunity, not as a competitive, scary thing. But one in five jobs being created in the trade sector today, we've got to look at that as more opportunity. All those things under the umbrella of job creation. This bailout is a part of that.
Err.... WHAT? Granted, it was a poorly worded and heavily weighted question, but there wasn't a complete, coherent sentence in her entire response. She sounds like a sound bite generating robot with a short circuit.
The shame of it is that I like John McCain. If he'd beat out Bush for the Republican nomination in 2000 I would have voted for him in a heartbeat, but I think he's missed his window. (He even admitted that himself in 2000, saying that by 2008 he'd "be ready to go down to the old soldiers home and await the cavalry charge there.") Still, I might have been swayed back into his camp with a solid Vice Presidential pick, especially after Obama (who I love) picked Biden (who I loathe). Palin, however, couldn't be farther from solid and I am terrified of the thought that she could someday sit in the Oval Office. No chance in hell I'd cast a vote that would put her anywhere near the Vice Presidency. No fucking way.
Please somebody, anybody, talk some sense into the Republican party so that this woman steps down. She's so clearly out of her league that her continued presence on the Republican ticket is nothing short of an embarrassment.
To quote Michael Seitzman:
Stop voting for people you want to have a beer with. Stop voting for folksy. Stop voting for people who remind you of your neighbor. Stop voting for the ideologically intransigent, the staggeringly ignorant, and the blazingly incompetent.
Vote for someone smarter than you. Vote for someone who inspires you. Vote for someone who has not only traveled the world but who has also shown a deep understanding and compassion for it. The stakes are real and they're terrifyingly high. This election matters. It matters. It really matters. Let me say that one more time. This. Really. Matters.
The comment that made my Carpool Buddy snort coffee, uttered during an alternate merge when the female driver of a white Escalade tried to gun her engine and close a gap thereby depriving my of my rightful place in front of her:
How about you try not being a douchebag? 'Cause I will happily run your ass into the shoulder. Eat guardrail, bitch.
I'm such a delicate flower.
Later, as we're driving past a large Jewish temple where one service is clearly letting out and another is about to begin, he pipes up:
Wow, it's like the changing of the Jews or something!
Good thing I was driving rather than drinking. We're even now.
Earlier today, VT and I were discussing the fact that it seems to be National Relationship Drama Week. Though VT and I both have strong therapist-fu, she's had more practice and consequently has these conversations down to a science:
She: . . . i have just had a METRIC FUCK-TON of practice with this
She: sometimes i catch myself thinking, 'hmmm... it's been 17 minutes. we ought to be hitting the 'i just don't know what he's thinking' point of the conversation... oh, yeah, there we go.'
Me: That's both awful and brilliant
She: 'minute 48... ooh, i'm overdue to say DTMFA. better work that in.'
She: and i mouth, 'but you don't know what they're like!' as they say it, or type it.
She: 'yeah, of course i don't know him as well as you do.' [thank all the gods]
She: when they say, 'i just have this feeling that we're somehow supposed to be in each other's lives!' i start waiting until the word 'destiny' comes up.
She: or 'karma.'
She: i ought to make a bingo chart.She: . . .and then there's the Not Quite Ready To Break Up With Them conversation.
She: which also has its own pattern:them: Snugglewumpkins is the most horrible person ever!
me: DTMFA.
them: i hate how they treat me like crap!
me: DTMFA.
them: they never do X, or Y, or Z, and i wish they'd stop doing Q.
me: DTMFA.
them: lots of tearful reminiscing about how it used to be good, and wondering what changed.
me, checking the clock: look, you can either go to a couples therapist and work it out, or leave them.
them: oh, it's not that bad.
me: sigh.She: then it's time for Son of Not Quite Ready To Break Up With Them.
them: i just don't know what i should do!
me: DTMFA.
them: but i love them!
me: news flash -- they don't love you. DTMFA.
them: they're not that bad!
me: okay, look. if 'not that bad' means they lie to you, ignore you, cheat on you, manipulate you, and make you spend time wondering what they're thinking and crying a lot? they're that bad. DTMFA.
them: don't tell me what to do! *stomps off*
me: sigh.Me: You have the patience of a saint.
She: depending on the person, you can go through: Grandson of Not Quite Ready To Break Up With Them; Second Cousin of Not Quite Ready To Break Up With Them; I Might Almost Be Ready To Break Up With Them;
She: No, Really, I Will Break Up With Them
She: Oh, Shit, I Was Going to Break Up With Them But Then We Had Sex
She: Okay, For Real This Time
She: Not Quite Ready To Break Up With Them, I Know, I Know
She: and HOLY CRAP THEY BROKE UP WITH ME!
She: HOW!?!
She: WHY?!!!
She: and then *those* conversations run like this:them: they were horrible!
me: yep.
them: they were evil! they lied to me! ignored me! cheated on me! manipulated me! i spent all this time wondering what they were thinking! why did i waste all that time and energy on them?!
me: uh, yeah.
them: why didn't you SAY something?
me: come here and run your head into my fist, won't you?She: time passes
She: and then, a couple of months later...
She: them: i met someone!
She: AUUUGGGGHHH
I was laughing out loud at my desk as this conversation unfolded; I'm pretty sure my co-workers think I've finally cracked.
The LD and I have been tossing around the idea of carpooling for some time now. We live less than a mile apart and generally work the same hours, but for some reason we haven't quite made the leap to ride-sharing yet.
Today, when prices crossed the $4/gallon mark at our local gas station, I got this email from him:
Gas is expensive. Really expensive. It would be cheaper to fill my car with Voss Water. Are you interested in carpooling? I own an irresistable '99 Mustang. Sweet ride.
Have I mentioned lately how glad I am that I bought an SUV right before gas prices started to spiral out of control? Yeah. Great choice. My response:
Yes! Can't wait to go for a spin in that "sweet ride."
So, as of Monday morning, I'll be carpooling a few days a week. Hopefully now I'll be able to afford to eat again.
Go read this.
No, right now, because John Mayer just shot an arrow straight to the heart of modern society:
I haven't spoken very much out loud these days, but I've been thinking to myself in what feels like surround sound. I can see so many things clearly, and feel so connected to myself and the world around me that I need to share the perspective with you.
. . .
What I'm about to write isn't about fame or success or celebrity or the media. That's my business.
This is about us all.
This is about a level of self consciousness so high in my generation, that it's actually toxic.. . .
This is about us all. Every one of us. Who all seem to know deep down that it's incredibly hard to be alive and interact with the world around us but will try and cover it up at any cost. For as badass and unaffected as we try to come off, we're all just one sentence away from being brought to the edge of tears, if only it was worded right.
So my Dad's a big rockstar and got flown to Oslo last week for just one day:
Me: How was your trip?
He: Getting there was fine, got everything done that I needed to while I was there, but the trip back was the best business trip I have ever taken.
Me: Why?
He: The plane was hours late, it was packed full, the cabin was overheated, and weather made the turbulence almost constant.
Me: ...? So that was sarcasm, then?
He: No, it was the best trip ever. You see, me and one other gentleman were stuck in the middle of a big block of seats that had been reserved by one group.
Me: That doesn't sound like a good thing.
He: It was a group of Norwegian cheerleaders. 43 Norwegian cheerleaders to be exact.
Me: Aaaaaaah
He: I found myself looking heavenward saying "Lord, I know you don't hear from me very often, but I'd just like to say - thank you."
People, I don't care who you vote for as long as you don't vote for this douchebag:
I have opponents in this race who do not want to change the Constitution. But I believe it's a lot easier to change the Constitution than it would be to change the word of the living god. And that's what we need to do -- to amend the Constitution so it's in God's standards rather than try to change God's standards so it lines up with some contemporary view. - Mike Huckabee, 1/15/08
I'm guessing that he plans to start with the First Amendment:
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
In the office behind me, an Associate Producer is on the phone:
He: Oh man, you're talking about a lot of people huh? We're totally going to have to invest in some hookers & livestock! Wow, Julie's coming?! I haven't seen her since our Chester the Molestor days. Sweet!
This evening, after getting our asses kicked by the Boxing instructor:
Me: I am going home to to take a shower, and go to bed.
She: I am going home to eat dinner; I'm SO hungry.
Me: Oh my god, last night I was starving after class but I had no food at home so I had to stop at Ralph's. I was wandering around the market in such a daze, I just wanted someone to hand me something so I could buy it and get home.
She: Oh yeah, I know those nights. Those are the nights when you don't even have the energy to microwave something - you just look at the label and think "I have to stir and recover? Now way, that's way too much work."
Words cannot describe how much I love this photo and its caption.
(Thanks, Jason!)
So we did a walkthrough with the leopard handlers, which prompted this email from my boss:
the one note we did get was that the jib movement could spook [the leopard], so whatever you can do to minimize that would be great.
And the following response from our smart ass Technical Director:
Should we keep an iso reel running on [the jib op], so we have some cool video in the event he is mauled*? :)
On days like this, it's hard not to love my job.
_____
*Never fear, animal lovers - the leopard will be in a cage so there is no danger to her or to anyone else.
I am so sore. Breathing hurts. Typing hurts. Hell, I think blinking hurts. And yet, I just can't stay away.
I have not spent less than two hours at the gym any day this week and yesterday I had a private lesson with Chief wherein he kicked my ass up and down the gym. Repeatedly. Right after he told me that I hit like a girl.
Since Chief is the first person ever to describe me as "too girly," I re-doubled my efforts and struck with full strength and speed for the first time since I started this adventure. It felt amazing. Granted, my hands and wrists are killing me today from doing that for 45 minutes straight, but there's something both empowering and freeing about unleashing the entirety of your strength in one well-placed strike. When I'd finally done it correctly once, Chief started to chase me around the room calling out combination numbers for me. I dropped my head, touched my gloves to my cheekbones, and for three 15-minute stretches I didn't focus on anything other than the pads he was holding and the numbers that he was calling.
I don't hit like a girl anymore.
I do, however, walk like an old lady because he also made me do evil leg strikes in which I hold one leg up behind me, femur parallel to the floor, and kick at the heavy bag behind me a couple of hundred times (No, seriously. We do things in sets of 50 or 100). Oh, my poor ass.
Are you guys bored hearing about this yet?
I can't help it - studying Muay Thai is such a strange and wonderful new experience for me that it's all I want to talk about. It's been a long, long time since I found something like this, something that I really love doing even though it's physically and mentally exhausting. I work my body to its limits every day and the first thing I think the next morning is "As soon as I figure out how to sit up without using my ab muscles, I'm totally going back!"
And it's not just about the physical exertion; there's something very spiritual about my training too. Maybe it's the fact that I've been in a bit of an introspective phase since my birthday, maybe it's just the nature of martial arts, but every time I leave the gym I take with me guidance for both my Muay Thai technique and my life as a whole. I always thought the "wise martial arts master veiling life lessons as training advice " was just a movie cliche... until Chief started saying things like this:
Hard to believe the man's only known me a week.
I just got the following from my boss:
Just an fyi there will be a live leopard in the studio on thursday.
That was the entirety of the email.
This morning, Teece and I were comparing notes about the various things that have been running through our brains lately:
She: i'm more receptive to that idea. But it still sounds daunting. LOL
Me: Well of course it's daunting! But daunting isn't necessarily bad.
She: true
Me: I'm just saying it's worth a spin through the ol' brain
She: i'll throw it in there with a dryer fluffy and see what happens
Me: LoL, what a great mental image!
Me: My dryer fluffies are working overtime lately
~my explanation cut for obvious reasons~
She: ooooh. oooh.. them's some dangerous fluffies you got spinning around in there. Good ones to spin, but.... wow.
Me: Clearly I prefer my dryer fluffies barbed
Earlier today, in discussion about a location shoot we're doing soon:
Me: D, do I need to find you another juicer?
D: Nope, strictly silks and flags on this one. Hoff will Key-G.
Me: OK. We're dropping a lunchbox at the first position anyway so it'll be there if you need it. A, what about the catcher?
A: We're all set, I've got the spot reserved.
Me: B, have you done a site visit? Can you see the bird from there?
B: Yeah, we'll be fine.
Me: Awesome. Then I think we're all set!
Wide Eyed Intern: I have no idea what just happened, but I think we're having lunch and smoothies at a baseball parade.
Translation under the cut.
I saw this over at Jesus' Favorite and I simply had to share it.
I have to give Mario Lopez huge props for maintaining his composure; I think I would have laughed wept.
Life is Beautiful
Sixx:A.M.
You can’t quit until you try
You can’t live until you die
You can’t learn to tell the truth
Until you learn to lie
You can’t breathe until you choke
You gotta laugh when you’re the joke
There’s nothing like a funeral to make you feel alive
Just open your eyes
Just open your eyes
And see that life is beautiful.
Will you swear on your life,
That no one will cry at my funeral?
I know some things that you don’t
I’ve done things that you won’t
There’s nothing like a trailer park to find your way back home
I was waiting for my hearse
What came next was so much worse
It took a funeral to make me feel alive
Just open your eyes
Just open your eyes
And see that life is beautiful.
Will you swear on your life,
That no one will cry at my funeral?
Just open your eyes
Just open your eyes
And see that life is beautiful.
Will you swear on your life,
That no one will cry at my funeral?
Just open your eyes
Just open your eyes
And see that life is beautiful.
Will you swear on your life,
That no one will cry at my funeral?
Just open your eyes
Just open your eyes
And see that life is beautiful.
Will you swear on your life,
That no one will cry at my funeral?
If you ever have the chance to pull over a cop, I highly suggest you do it.
While at Nerd Prom 2007, I spent two hours standing in the middle of a 6-lane street slowing and directing traffic. The "why" isn't terribly important, but it is not an understatement to say that my job (and the jobs of lots of other people) was entirely dependent on my doing this.
What an interesting social experiment THAT turned out to be. People are assholes. I was standing in the middle of a very busy street, very obviously trying to keep everything moving in a slow and orderly way, and I cannot tell you how many people raced past me, screamed obscenities at me, or (my favorite) slowed down until they were a few feet away from me and then gunned it. I hate people. Especially people who drive cars in Southern California.
After about 45 minutes of being abused while standing in the blazing hot sun during my 10th hour of work, my patience wore dangerously thin. When I saw a white Ford Explorer coming around the corner WAY too fast, I put up my hands in the universal gesture of "slow down, cowboy" and got no response. I waved my brightly colored "SLOW" sign and smiled; no response. At this point the guy was coming way too fast and not only was he in danger of hitting me, he was also in danger of destroying the whole reason for me to be directing traffic in the first place.
So, I started to yell.
"Slow down, slow down, slow the HELL down, asshole!"
It was right about the time that my lip were forming the "h" in "asshole" that he got close enough for me to see the San Diego Police Department graphics on his side door.
Shitshitshitshitshit.
He blew past, screeched to a halt, made a u-turn, and headed straight for me. I was absolutely convinced that he was going to arrest me and prayed that my boss would bail me out. When the officer pulled up next to me and rolled down his window, his face was absolutely expressionless:
He: Ma'am.
Me: Hello officer.
He: That was very rude of me.
Me: *blinkblinkblink* Pardon?
He: To blow past you like that, it was very rude of me. I saw you there but I have to be somewhere, so I didn't slow down. I'm sorry about that.
Me: Oh, um, that's ok. I'm sure you have someplace to be...
He: That's no excuse for my behavior; I really am very sorry. I shouldn't be racing around like that without a lightbar or siren (his truck had neither). If you'd like to take my badge number and file a complaint, I completely understand.
Me: No, I don't think I need to do that. Thank you for turning around to apologize, though. I really appreciate it.
He: Do you want my number, er, badge number anyway?
Me: *blinkblinkblinkdidhejust?blinkblink* No, that's really not necessary, but thanks. You're very sweet.
He: Well you have a good day ma'am. Good luck out here.
Me: Thanks; you too, officer.
I would say that was the strangest thing that happened while I was standing out there, but about twenty minutes later a woman pulled out of traffic and ran up to me exclaiming excitedly "I know you, I know, you I totally know you!" Turns out we knew one another at summer camp, in Maine, twelve years ago - she recognized me from 50 yards while I was wearing both a hat and sunglasses. That was the strangest thing that happened while I was standing in the middle of the street.
Yelling at, and then subsequently getting hit on by, a cop was a really close second, though.
Just now, in the office kitchen:
I'm minding my own business, standing at the sink draining the juice out of my canned pineapple before dumping it in a bowl. One of the Associate Producers peers over my shoulder while she's filling her coffee cup.
She: What's that?
Me: Breakfast.
She: Wow, that actually looks healthy.
Me: . . .
I wish that text could appropriately convey the note of incredulity in her voice; she may as well just have said Wow, who knew a cow like you ate fruit? I just assumed that you people exist on a diet of Pop Tarts and Cheetos.
Overheard on the other side of the cube wall:
She: Hey, what does "T.V." stand for, anyway?
He: Umm...seriously?
Not terrifying enough? Then please note this additional tidbit of information: I WORK AT A TELEVISION STUDIO.
Kill me now.
No, on second thought, kill HER now. Quick, before she breeds.
If you don’t like a radio hosts’ lingo, don’t listen. If you think Alec Baldwin is a horrible father, that’s your right to say so. But when people have to start to fear what they say (like me, wondering if I should even put up this post for fear that someday down the line a future employer or corporation will find this and disregard me for an opportunity) then the First Amendment is slowly being wrapped up in moth balls and put away in a dark attic where no one will find it.
-Paul Davidson, here
Can I get an amen? AMEN.
When exactly did we forget that free speech covers ALL speech, not just the politically-correct, non-offensive milquetoast variety? If you don't like it, don't listen/watch/read. Exercise your free will; it's really not that hard. In the words of Voltaire*, "think for yourselves and let others enjoy the privilege to do so too."
I am so disheartened that America's citizens need to be REMINDED to think for themselves.
_____
*People, please stop crediting Voltaire as saying "I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." Volatire didn't write that, Evelyn Hall did. She used that phrase to describe Voltaire's attitude in The Friends of Voltaire and it's been mis-quoted ever since. Stop the madness!
Over IM this afternoon, Harris mourned the passing of Jerry Falwell and wondered about God's great plan:
He: Falwell's dead.
Me: I know.
He: Wrinkly nutsack of evil
Me: Yepper
He: Much like Strom Thurmond, I think we need to drive a stake through his heart, chop off his head, stuff his mouth with holy wafers and burn the head and body seperately.
He: Just, y'know, to be sure.
He: Next up: Pat Robertson
He: I'm still waiting for him to pipe up with whatever it was that Greensborough Kansas did to deserve being wiped off the face of the earth
Me: Oh I'm sure he has a reason
He: God has shitty aim I guess.
He: Since Katrina was "punishment" for New Orleans tolerating homosexuals.
He: (nevermind that the gay district survived untouched)
He: and God managed to COMPLETELY miss San Francisco
Me: *snicker*
I don't think I've mentioned it here yet, but one of the challenges that The Fireman & I are facing is the fact that we currently live about 1000 miles apart. I've been in a long-distance relationship before so I know what we've gotten ourselves into, but that knowledge doesn't make it any easier. The plain truth is that it can be emotionally exhausting to be so far away from the person you love.
However, The Fireman will be here for a week-long visit starting Thursday and I am absolutely giddy at the thought of seeing him in just a few days. I'm trying not to irritate nauseate my friends with my excitement, but Teece is very patient and lets me bounce at her for the good of all humanity:
Me: *bouncebouncebounce*
She: yay!
Me: *bouncebouncebounce*
Me: (Um, I'm going to be doing that a lot this week - sorry)
She: no.... believe me, it's totally fine
She: it's a nice counterpoint to this place. (manager girl walked out of big boss's morning meeting on the edge of tears... never a good indicator of his mood)
She: young happy love gives me hope for the world
She: so you bounce... bounce like the wind... for the good of all humanity
She: a butterfly flaps its wings and a breeze goes around the world. Someone has the love bounceys and ... well, that's got to cure somebody's cancer somewhere, ya know?
Me: LoL! *bouncebouncebounce*
Today at lunch, I found myself behind a couple who had apparently never been in a Quiznos before (or any other establishment that requires the ordering of food):
It's a busy Saturday afternoon at Quiznos. One of the employees has just announced that they are out of oven-roasted turkey, but that they still have plenty of smoked turkey. Guy & Gal are standing under the large, colorful sign that says ORDER HERE, in front of five or six people. They are so busy canoodling that Sandwich Girl (SG) has to greet them three times before they look up and realize that their input is required.
SG: Hi, welcome to Quiznos. What can I get for you?
Guy: Is it true that you're out of turkey?
SG: We're out of oven-roasted turkey sir, but we have smoked turkey.
Guy: So that's like, turkey? Except smoked?
SG: Yes sir.
Guy: And you could make the turkey peppercorn parmesan thing with that?
SG: Yes sir.
Guy: OK, then we want a turkey sandwich.
SG: What kind?
Guy: The turkey one.
SG: The Pepercorn Parmesan Turkey with Bacon?
Guy: Yeah, that.
SG: For here or to go?
45 second conversation between Guy & Gal about whether they'd rather eat here or go back to their love nest.
Guy: To go.
SG: And what size?
Guy: What sizes do you have?
SG: Small, Regular, and Large.
Guy: After a bit more conferring Large.
SG: White or wheat?
Guy: White.
Gal: Wheat.
Guy: White.
SG: OK, white. And do you want everything on that sir?
Guy: Yeah, and if you put mustard on it use the spicy stuff. I hate yellow mustard.
SG: This sandwich doesn't come with mustard, would you like to add it?
Guy: Only if you usually put it on.
SG: We don't, sir, but we do have spicy mustard if you'd like to add it.
Guy: Yeah, just do whatever's usually on it.
SG: So you would like to ADD mustard, correct?
Guy: Yeah, great.
SG proceeds to make the sandwich and put it up in the oven so that it can get all toasty. Guy & Gal are still standing there, watching it go into the oven, although there is (another) large, colorful sign that directs people to pay at the other end of the counter.
Gal: I hate mustard.
Guy: Hey, can you take the mustard off the sandwich?
SG: I can't reach into the oven, sir, and I won't be able to remove the mustard once it's been toasted. Would you like me to remake your sandwich?
Guy: Yeah, can you? Thanks.
I swear everyone in line was ready to kill them by the time the second sandwich was in the oven. Don't get me started on the conversation they had at the cash register Fun over whether or not to order a drink.
Grr.
A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
enough money within her control to move out and rent a place of her own even if she never wants to or needs to...A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
something perfect to wear if the employer or date of her dreams wants to see her in an hour...A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ...
a youth she's content to leave behind....A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
a past juicy enough that she's looking forward to retelling it in her old age....A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE .....
a set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra...A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
one friend who always makes her laugh...
and one who lets her cry...A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
a good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in her family...A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems, and a recipe for a meal that will make her guests feel honored...A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ....
a feeling of control over her destiny...EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
how to fall in love without losing herself...EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
how to quit a job,
break up with a lover,
and confront a friend without ruining the friendship...EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
when to try harder...
and when to walk away...EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
that she can't change the length of her calves, the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents..EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
that her childhood may not have been perfect...
but it's over...EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
what she would and wouldn't do for love or more...EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
how to live alone...
even if she doesn't like it...EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
whom she can trust, whom she can't, and why she shouldn't take it personally...EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
where to go...
be it to her best friend's kitchen table...
or a charming inn in the woods...
when her soul needs soothing...EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
what she can and can't accomplish in a day...
a month...and a year...
... that I love my Santa Barbara family:
Me: Have you seen this?
She: WTF? This Barbaro thing was completely off my radar. People, you need to get a life.
Me: AMEN
She: They know he was a horse, right?
Me: Apparently not
She: I just don't get it. Maybe we could take a little of that energy and look at Guantanamo?
Me: Oh no, that's too hard and scary.
Me: Let's make a horse into a savior!
She: You're right. Dead horse is so close to Jesus, I get confused sometimes.
Me: *snicker*
Remember, if logic were all there really was to the world, then surely all men would ride sidesaddle.-Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who Run With The Wolves
On Tuesday night I had dinner with my friend C, whom I had not seen since the turn of the century we graduated from college. We had a lovely time catching up over delicious food & drinks at Granville (Hilary: we must go); I'd forgotten how she and I can keep each other laughing for hours. She only made me choke on my drink once, though, when she relayed the story of having a Japanese friend of hers house-sit:
She: ...so, since I had to be out of town for the second half of her visit, she actually ended up housesitting for me.
Me: How'd that go?
She: Pretty well, until the Poster Incident.
Me: Poster Incident?
She: The night before she was supposed to leave, M called me very upset and said C! C! I so sorry; I broke your poster! Since I don't have any posters in my house, I was a bit mystified and asked her to clarify. The poster! The poster in the kitchen! I broke it, I so very sorry. I buy new one for you, good as new. I finally remembered that when we'd moved I'd rolled up a crappy old print of a painting and stuck it in the corner of the kitchen, meaning to throw it out. I assured her that it was trash anyway and that she didn't have to buy me a new one, but M was not comforted No C, not the painting - the poster! Where you post your bread in the morning - I broke it! So sorry, but I buy new one for you.
Me: Oh, she broke the toaster!
She: Exactly, and I was too busy trying not to laugh to get the whole story but I understood that it had something to do with a tortilla. When I got home there was a shiny new toaster sitting on my counter, and next to it the old one with the tortilla draped over it like a shroud. She'd drawn a very detailed diagram to explain what, exactly, she was doing with the toaster at the time of it's untimely demise but I'm still not exactly sure what happened. All I know is that M somehow managed to melt the plastic casing of my toaster with the tortilla and that I got a brand spanking new appliance out of it.
I was laughing so hard by the end of her story that there were tears rolling down my cheeks. We've promised not to let so many years pass before we have dinner again.
This afternoon, while chatting with a Line Producer (LP) about the best way to get information to a crew that is not one of mine:
Me: Do you need me to send out the crew email? Normally I give them their call times, etc, but would you prefer to do it?
LP: Well are you giving them their call times?
Me: I will if you need me to. I'm only peripherally involved in this show so I didn't know if you had another plan for contacting the crew.
LP: You should give them their call times.
Me: OK, then I'll need all of the parking information, maps, and the credential pick-up location so I can send it to them all at once.
LP: Oh, you don't need to worry about all that. We'll send out the crew information.
Me: Will you include their call times in your email?
LP: Yes, of course.
Me: Great. Let me know if you need me to do anything.
Even money says that crew doesn't get their call times.
This afternoon, on the restaurant patio next to my ATM:
Guy #1: You know that old cliche about lipstick on the collar?
Guy #2 Yeah
Guy #1 Well that's why it ended.
Guy #2 Wait, you went home with lipstick on your collar?
Guy #1 No, uh, she did.
Guy #2: Oh.
God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.
There are words we dimly hear:
You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.
Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me.
Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.
Give me your hand.
-Ranier Maria Rilke (1875 - 1926)
Just one more reason to love Bones:
Booth: Well, nothing brings people together like a Christmas lung fungus.
I *have* to get a DVR before the new season starts in January.
December 5th is Repeal Day, the day on which we celebrate the repeal of prohibition.
Now that's a holiday I can get behind!
Mongo and I started the celebration early last night by breaking into a particularly delcious bottle of Jameson's:
He: Scotch, or wine?
Me: Scotch, please.
He: rummages around and produces a bottle of Jameson's Hmm, how about Irish whiskey?
Me: Somehow I'll choke it down.
He: Don't worry, it's old enough to vote.
And now for some happy news: I have fabulous new running shoes! Many thanks to Teece & Tag for the early Christmas present.
I cannot stress enough how important it is to go to a professional running store (Teece & I went to Run With Us in Pasadena) if you're buying shoes for something like a marathon. Since I'd been fit for my shoes at the beginning of this process, I took them in for comparison; I figured I'd just be able to get another pair of the same shoe and be on my way. The salesman looked them over for about ten seconds before:
He: You're having more problems with your left foot than your right, aren't you?So he brought out another pair of Asics in the same series as my old shoes, just with more motion control and a wider toe box. He also taught me a fancy way to lace my shoes that would provide more support through the heel without bruising the front of my ankle (as tightly laced shoes are prone to do after 10 miles or so).
Me: Yeah, actually.
He: Your left knee is bothering you though, isn't it? It's weaker than your right?
Me: Yes, it has been since I hurt it when I was 14.
He: How's your left hip?
Me: Not good.
He: Yeah, we can fix that. You pronate severly when you run. These shoes you've been running in are for moderate pronation, but you need more support - you need a shoe with motion control. Do you like these, other than the blister they're probably giving you on the inside of your left arch?
Me: Yes, I *thought* they were comfortable...
Who knew running could be so comfortable?
We did 8 miles this morning and I didn't feel any of the pains that usually set in after the first five miles or so. I didn't even get a blister on my big toe! Yes, my feet were sore form the novelty of being properly aligned, and my knees and hips were still tender, but it wasn't the pain that I'd been running through before.
I might be able to walk after this marathon after all!
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer:
She: Oh, I thought of you in the market the other day. If I ever want to murder you, I saw the perfect weapon in the kosher aisle: a can of poppy seed paste!
Me: Aaaaaaaaaaaack! Noooooooooooooooo!
She: It made me laugh, I must say. I didn't even know there was such a product.
Me: It's my kryptonite
She Always good to know that everyone can find it at Vons.
Me: I'd better start being nicer to people... :-)
She: Starting with me, since I know which aisle it's in.
Me: *bats eyelashes* Have I told you lately that I love you?
She: Mwah! Back at ya. I forgot where the poppyseeds are already.
Me: Yay!
Me: *phew*
This evening, at the grocery store:
He: Dude, I'm still all greasy from that stupid kleenex.And then I tried not to hurt myself with the effort of stifling my giggles.
She: Honey, it was ONE Puffs Plus.
He: Why did you buy the greasy kind anyway?
She: Because I had a cold and my nose was all raw and sore.
He: Well they shouldn't have been next to the bed.
She: Sweetheart, I am a girl. When I buy kleenex they are for my nose.
He: *noncommital grunt*
In other news, I'm running 26 miles tomorrow. Eeek!
Sick Boy had an impromptu party last night so this morning came very early for me. Tex blames that no-good Walker clan:
Me: Who put all the lead weights in the air molecules in my office? Why are they pressing so heavily upon me?
He: That would be Jack Walker and his brothers Black and Red.
Me: Damn those Walker boys. Always causing trouble.
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