Christmas Gift Idea

Fundies. When you love someone so much, you want to share your underpants with their junk.

Yes. I’m still alive and well. But quite sleepy.

I’ve been missing because last week was a crap week. I worked entirely too much and too hard. Some days, I even forgot to eat lunch!

It was a week of being tired and cranky. Of being nervous and on edge. Of wanting to eat nothing but cheese. It was the sort of week that would proceed my having a dentist appointment at 8:30 on Saturday morning. The only thing worse than getting a tooth filled is getting a tooth filled while hungover.

And then I meant to catch up with blogland over the weekend, but we got Guitar Hero for Wii and all other plans went out the window.

So here is my attempt to catch you up on important events:

1. Drunk + microwave popcorn = smoky burnt mess.
On Friday, I was so happy that my crap week was over that I went straight from work to the bar. Luckily, some friends met up with me there. But if they hadn’t, I probably would’ve just hung out there by myself.

At the end of the night, I went home and was starving. I went to the kitchen and made a bunch of noise, slamming cupboard doors shut and shifting dirty dishes around in the sink. Eventually, I found a box of microwave popcorn and decided this would be a good treat. So I took the plastic wrap off one of the bags, read the directions – 2 mins, 30 seconds – and tossed the packet into the microwave.

It seemed like about 10 seconds went by before the horrible smell of burnt popcorn filled the air and the bag had a little black spot on it. Out of curiosity and the hope that I could save a few good kernels, I opened the bag and dumped it into a big bowl, only to discover that about 60% of the popcorn had molded together into an awful brown and black mass.

There’s no point to this story, other than it reminded me of freshman year of college, when everyone had a microwave in their dorm room and popcorn was a favorite late night snack. And the frequent incidence of burnt microwave popcorn became such a nuisance that our floor had to have a meeting in the lounge about it. We all had to swear that we’d be careful when we drunkenly made popcorn, lest we accidently burn the building down or condemn our floormates to the stink of burntness for another day.

2. Books
I have to tell you that, despite my bi-monthly attempts at personal betterment, I don’t read books. I like the idea of reading books, I really do. But TV is so much easier.

My last job was in creative development for a production company. This involved reading lots and lots of books and scripts. I probably read about 80 books over 18 months. Since that job, I’ve read about 3.

Last month, when Devin and I flew back east for a wedding, I brought a book with me. Possible Side Effects by Augusten Burroughs. I was done with it by the time we boarded out return flight. Turns out, reading is the only thing that keeps me occupied on a plane.

After that trip, I was again inspired to read more. So I went over to the bookshelf in our apartment and scanned all of Devin’s books. There were a few by Chuck Palahniuk, but he scares me. And a few by Charles Bukowski, who I like a lot conceptually, but his writing doesn’t really do it for me. And then I found The Curious Incident of the Dog In the Nighttime. I remembered this book from my last job, when there was a lot of fuss about it. Apparently it’s written as though from the perspective of an autistic teenager and this makes it amazing (if a bit gimmicky).

So I’ve been reading this book now for like 2 weeks. I’m about 90 pages in because I fall asleep every time I get through 2 pages at once.

TV wins!

3. The Big One
Two Thursdays ago, Southern California had a big earthquake drill. At 10 am, everyone was supposed to pretend there was an earthquake and figure out what to do with themselves. Our office didn’t participate in this, as most of us roll into work at about that time so it wasn’t entirely convenient. But at our next meeting, one of my coworkers brought up that we should still probably take the time to have a drill because “The Big One is definitely coming.”

After the meeting, he chatted with me more about The Big One and how big earthquakes come every 150 years and we’re long overdue. And how it will last for over 90 seconds, compared to the 10 seconds of the last one we experienced. And how the brick wall next to my desk will crumble down and how the big window over my head will shatter and how I’m in the worst place in the whole building, but lucky for him he’ll be safe. My other coworker who sits with me in the death trap didn’t like the sound of this either and later, with much giggling and silliness, we worked out our evacuation plan.

Ever since that day, I’ve been really preoccupied with The Big One. Every time I am in a new environment I think about where I’m going to duck for cover if The Big One strikes right at that moment. I now know where I’ll hide if I’m at work (the doorway by the bathroom, or outside if I can make it), at home (run outside, it’s not that far), on the street in front of our building while walking Seamus (hold onto a stop sign pole and watch for falling palm fronds), at the bar we went to Friday night (duck under table), at the bagel place (again, table). And so on and so forth. As you can see, I’m extremely prepared and partially insane.

Ok, Ok, I Give Up

I have some news:



I know that I was fighting it. Fighting it for far too long. But lately I noticed that when I admitted I didn't have a facebook account I was met with looks of disgust and confusion. As though I'd just told them I eat poo and sew all of my own clothes.

Moreover, I realized I was missing out on some good stalking.

And so today I signed up. Within 4 seconds I was confronted with a page of 55 profiles of people I apparently knew through one channel or another. "Would you like to send friend requests?" I was asked. Ok, sure. But HOW did facebook know that these people were my friends?

I checked off a bunch of boxes and then skipped over all of the hobbies and interests section and then ta-da, I was a facebooker.

I didn't know what exactly I was supposed to do at this point, so I just decided to ignore everything for now and check my gmail account.

And oh hey! 4 people already accepted my friend requests. And someone wrote on my wall. And Devin updated my relationship status and I needed to verify it, or something.  Man this facebook is like quicksand!

So I followed a link in my email to try to respond to whatever facebook wanted me to respond to but then I was just led to my homepage which was like a little patchwork quilt of pictures and words and cool kid facebook slang that I don't comprehend. I felt a knot in my stomach.

This week on Brotherhood, Mrs. Caffee, a senior citizen, gets a new prescription from her doctor, but learns that her healthcare plan requires her to go through a phone service to order it. There's a scene where she is reduced to tears because the automated system on the phone is too unfamiliar for her. 

I felt like that.

Anyway, if you'd like to validate my questionable decision to sign up, please be my guest.  Friend me.   I'd send you a link for how to get to my profile, but I have no idea how that works.

Class of '00

The other day I got a little postcard in the mail from my high school's directory office asking me to call within 7 days to update my info. I nearly threw it out, but then thought I should follow up because this might have to do with my 10 year reunion. I want to make sure I am invited so that I can make a big deal about refusing to go.

So just now, while there was a calm point in my day at work, I dialed the hotline number on the card. I wanted a website. Who does these things over the phone?

While waiting for someone to pick up, I noticed the address for the directory office was a P.O. Box in Chesapeake, Virginia. My high school was in New York. What the?

And then someone picked up. He said that they were checking all of the graduates' contact information for some directory they'll publish soon.

Me: I've never gotten a directory before.
Him: We only do this every 8 years.
Me: Oh. So it has everyone from the last 8 years in it.
Him: It has everyone ever. Or, everyone who agrees to be in it.
Me: So this is optional.
Him: Can we start?
Me: Ok.

He double checked my name and mailing address and the year I graduated. He asked for my email address. I hesitated, but then figured what if SOMEONE randomly wants to talk to me? Like someone who graduated earlier than I did and also works in the entertainment industry and needs a new VP for his or her company and wants to hire an alum. I should at least be open to such things. So I gave the email address I rarely ever check.

Him: So what were your favorite activities in high school?
Me: I didn't have any.
(A pause)
Him: Did you play any sports?
Me: ...No.
(A pause)
Me: I was in marching band?
Him: OH! Well that's something!
Me: Great.
Him: And what is your favorite memory from high school?
Me: I don't have any.
Him: None?
Me: None.

I can just imagine my listing in the directory:
Favorite activity: marching band
Favorite memory: none

How sad.

Him: Do you have a spouse or kids?
Me: No.
Him: None?

I didn't like the tone of his response.

Me: None.

I was about to ask "well, I'm engaged, do you put that in the book?" but then he kept talking

Him: No kids?
Me: No.
Him: Or, at least, none that you know of, right? Hahahaha.

I wanted to tell him that this joke would only work if I were a man because, as far as I know, a woman can't birth children without her knowledge.

By this point I felt like I'd been on the phone for an hour and I was worried I'd provided much too much information about myself. I also figured no one would ever read this directory because everyone just stays in touch through facebook (except me, but I might get an account soon).

Then came the part of the conversation where he tried to sell me this directory. Or rather, "order a copy in advance."

Me: No thanks...
Him: Well, that's fine, but maybe a soft cover copy. It's $20 cheaper.

$20 cheaper? I wouldn't pay $20 total for this thing.

Me: No, really. I don't really want to talk to anyone or hear from anyone I went to high school with.

I hope they don't print that either.

Him: Oh. Got it. Can I email you my youtube videos?
Me: What?
Him: You know. Since you do production stuff.
Me: Oh. Uh, fine.

Say Hello To My New Pal

Election night was full of fun surprises. And the biggest surprise of all came late in the evening when our neighbor returned home from a party with a bigger than life size Barack Obama cardboard cut out.

Here it is. It's like 7 feet tall.




And a close up. Look at that handsome face.



When Mr. Obama arrived at our door, we had only the screen door open. There was a knock knock, and I looked up to see him standing there. It startled and confused me. Our neighbors remained out of view as the President Elect stood at our door. All I could think was, "Is he personally thanking all of the voters?" I couldn't process that this was a cardboard object, and not a person. I think I was getting tired.

The neighbors brought him inside and then there was the telling of the story of how it came into their possession. And then the taking of the pictures for facebook use.

And then we didn't know what to do with it. We wanted to leave Barack somewhere in plain view, at least for a week or so. But, it turned out, there was nowhere in the entire apartment that we could put him that wouldn't cause you to jump out of your skin when you entered the room. That first night alone I scared myself senseless about 10 times. I think I actually screamed on a few occasions. I'd come inside from walking Seamus or go to the kitchen to get a drink and then HELLO! there he is again.

By this point I've gotten used to his presence and placed him in what's turned out to be the least upsetting location in the apartment.

Except that he watches when I walk out from the bathroom after I take a shower.

Okay, it went right.

Which is good, because I don't have to move to outer space. My costume was too tight anyway. It was hella uncomf.

When I heard the election results I just sighed and said "Thank God." Then I heard other people in my office/loft building cheering.

Shortly thereafter I drove home. All through the streets I could hear cheers coming from apartments. Much better than the riots I anticipated if McCain won.

Speaking of him, I feel a little bad. I mean, I'm extremely glad he didn't win. But it's sad to lose. And unlike George Dubs, I don't think McCain is rotten to the core. I think he just hangs with the wrong crowd.

Also, I hope Sarah Palin feels like a jackass. She should. And did anyone see that footage of her voting in Alaska? She was wearing a ratty winter coat. You're on TV, woman! Pull yourself together.

My favorite moment of Obama's victory speech came after he'd finished. First Biden walked out on stage. And then a few minutes later, about 20 family members. They stood around awkwardly hugging for a while. Can you imagine if the first 10 minutes of your family's Christmas party took place on stage in front of the world? It was like that.

And then, Michelle Obama's mom, in the midst of all of this excitement about her son-in-law, pulled Michelle to her, pointed toward the crowd, and said, "Look! There's Oprah!"

If This Election Goes Wrong

I'm all set to move to outer space.




I even made a paper mache helmet.