Andy Williams Is A Hot Bitch

I am sitting on the couch having finished a report for work and am now swinging with an Andy Williams LP.  I don't care how schmaltzy his work is considered to be by, well pretty much everyone, I feel rather strongly that Andy is in the Hot Bitch category.  Think about it, if everyone has rightly asserted he is cheesy, then he knows that too and chances are when he was at is peak he was high on pills, gin and kept the company of salty ladies like myself.  He and I would have painted the town red, or at the very least the hotel room.  

Here is a picture from a website that I cannot rave about enough:

Ricky slicked back his hair one more time. Yes. He was ready for tonight, and damn, he looked good.

Here is a blurb from the creator to give you an idea of the concept behind it: "Hi.

I’m Dan, and I’m going to take a photo with a LEGO guy every day for an entire year. I love LEGOs, and I love photography – so it only seemed natural to mix them."

There are lots of these 365 day photo projects out there and this one is done incredibly well. He is almost done, so I am glad I am catching it before it is complete.  Something about knowing about a sweet-ass project during the process makes my ego shimmer that much more.   

Lastly, I have heard rumors that there is various footage of me singing from last weekend and you had better believe I will be posting the shit out of that as soon as I get my hands on it. Mostly because my hair was banging all weekend and these rare occasions need to be documented and used as propaganda.  

P.S.  Isn't that guitar player dreamy?  SWOON.  

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I was going to post a superb entry tonight, but it became later than I anticipated rather rapidly and I need some sleep.  SO.  I have every intention of making it up soon.  For now I offer these stunning videos and pictures that I can take no credit for. 

There are few songs that have such a visceral trigger for me.  Free Fallin' is one.  I am immediately transported to Goleta, summer, bikini and the first real feelings of deep love at the same time as deep depression.  I am holding the hand of my best girlfriend and we are singing soft harmonies as the sun brings forth a few more freckles.  We need not say a word to know the other one knows.  

Having seen VAST live a couple of time I can say with confidence that Jon Crosby does in fact 

have such a clean voice. Also, he composed all of this and can play all of the instruments. Sigh.

This song has lots of fond memories. Lastly, the fellow in the lace dress playing acoustic guitar

at a show of theirs was way more agro and at one point threw his guitar in the air, missed it, 

gashed open his eye and refused treatment. Played the rest of the show with blood running 

down his face. Totally RAWK.

Okay Picture Time:

what I want to eat right now:

Edit: WTF with the weird spacing?  I don't know.  I tried to fix it 4 times, which is 3 more than I usually do, so you are going to just have to suck it up.  

For Your Eyes

Things that are true.  And a few that aren't if you are being all skeptical about viking kitties (it will make sense once you scroll down).

Monday: Pants Optional

With higher temperatures upon us in Sacto I have officially dubbed Mondays as Pant Optional. In fact, I think that I will extend this dress-code relaxing to all days for the rest of the Hell Scape people call summer here.  

Roll Call:

1.  In observation of the day I have spent much of it sans pants working from the couch and attempting to write reports for work.  

2.  Why does my face feel it necessary to relive high-school era blemishtopia?  I woke up this morning (covered in a thin film of sweat even with the AC kicking in off and on) only to rub my face and marvel at all the small volcanoes that arrived suddenly.  Ugh.  Body, seriously, knock it off. 

3.  Enough with hating on my skin.  That ain't no way to live.  Where my feminists at?  I am ready a fairly entertaining historical fiction book entitled The Company:

with which I have one major issue with.  It is very much an ensemble cast, but so far all but one of the female characters have "failed" in some manner.  Not passed a test that all the men did, is shallow and vain to a degree of losing love, life goals, etc.  I also recently have heard too many sexist comments about female drivers, unsightly hair, the dangers of a woman PMSing.  WHAT THE HELL PEOPLE!  In order to recover from this onslaught of lady-bashing I have been refreshing my Jezebel page religiously.  Thank goodness Judge Judy is here to mediate the shit out of things.  

4.  In a strangely fitting musical experience: I have had Tina Turner's "Private Dancer" running on loop in my head for nearly two weeks straight.  Nothing like taking a shower and realizing all that I am actually thinking and doing is attempting to faithfully recreate the sensual "oohs" and "ahhs" Tina does halfway through the song while lathering and rinsing.  

5.  Wants to suggest to Tony Bourdain and his lovely wife that we all get it on french style sexitimes.  That man is dreamy.  In my pants.  Which I am not wearing.  Perhaps I will put on pants tomorrow so that I can take them off again when the Bourdain's accept my menage-a-trois offer.  

He's thinking about it...

And we're a go!

A Post (In Which) I Anal(yze) Pare(nth)etical Usage

I read many blogs, mostly authored by women who I admire, laugh with, get emo over the same things, and all around adore.  They are mothers, wives, artists, sisters, teachers, editors, single occupancy gals, comediennes, cat lovers, book snobs, politicos, lovers, designers, total strangers... A pretty wide slice of the human experience is represented.  What do they all have in common?  Near obsessive use of parenthetical statements.  We all seem to go GAGA over parentheses (and not Lady Gaga, but like Camilla the Chicken from the Muppets (Gonzo's girlfriend) who's only vocalization other than clucking to express her love of Gonzo is to chant "GAGAGAGA!  That is the kind of GAGA I am talking about).  See?  It is the written way of going off topic, but not really.  We are making a point, just in a rather round about, esoteric manner.  Which is exactly how many of us talk.  My speech is full of digressions from the main theme, illustrative examples, and all other manner of vaguely connected tidbits and puns.  

However, I came to a moment in time where I questioned whether or not some people know how to use parenthetical statements correctly (myself included) (and yes, all of the ones in this post are purposeful).  For example what I just did with the set of parentheses back to back?  Is that allowed?  Does it work?  Initially I felt a low grade gammer fever over this.  I even looked it up (here's a link), but not much came from the research.  Least of all guilt about my blatant and excessive reliance on parentheses as a tone modifier in text.  Further, I go back to writing the way I talk.  And I talk totally rad (clearly).

(click photo for Flickr page)

I try not to abuse my blogging rights too much (they start to whimper, all whiney, bastard-like and it gets tiresome) all the while letting the stream of consciousness mumbo-jumbo rigamarole just be.  So, parenthetical statement I am gonna run with you like scissors.  (It could be dangerous, but it feels so right.)

Marrow

Food confession:  I eat chicken frequently and usually it is skinless, boneless, mostly healthy, etc. However, I have been know to go on "food binges" during which I become obsessed with eating the same kind of food every day regardless of how terrible it is for me.  A prime example is fried chicken.  It doesn't even need to be that good, and I will go crazy about it.  College roommates no doubt recall with a certain amount of unpleasant queasiness my penanche for fried chicken legs and the manner in which I consumed them.  I eat as much of the entire thing as possible.  This includes all skin, gristle (which is sort of an onomatopoeia if you think about it), bone nubs and marrow.  

AM shakes his head over this and has learned that he might as well offer me his leftover bits, because I will descend on them anyway, in the kitchen as I "do the dishes."  I know that some day I will probably die from bone shards cutting up my gastrointestinal track (such a fun name for a section of the body, btw), slowly bleeding out internally, but it will be worth it.  Bone marrow is a flavor you just can't find in any other food.  I wonder if I nom on bones with such glee due to a freakish vitamin deficiency....  Nah, I will opt to believe that I just have a sort of Cro-Magnon streak in me that just won't quit.  Sexy.  

So, it can safely be said that this afternoon involved some aggressive bone chomping and greasy fingers.  Besides my internet assertions, proof can also be found on the pages of the cheesy murder mystery I read this weekend about a forensic paleontologist.  It is titled SKELETON DANCE.  I am not kidding.  

Flummoxed

I am not particularly flummoxed per-se, but I have a few "huh.  that's interesting" moments today and really, I just don't get enough opportunities to use flummoxed in daily exchanges.  

1) I witnessed while in my car driving (which I do a lot of.  Like up to two hours a day sometimes) no less than 5 near accidents with risk-taking cyclists.  Equally guilty were the drivers of big SUV with way too many blind-spots and undeserved narcissistic road-ownership issues.  By the time I got home this evening I was sort of freaked out and looking in my mirrors even more than I normally do.  Which is a lot as I am a very conscientious defensive driver and remember from Driver's Ed that you should check your mirrors every 30 to 60 seconds to reappraise road conditions.  

2) My local NPR station is doing its fund-drive and I got so emotional about my desire to give contrasted against my iffy financial sense of security (we are on our way, but after a whole year of employment shakiness I kind of want to do some personal savings/debt clearing-up-ness) that I had to change the station.  Wow, the guilt was palpable

which brings us to 3) When I changed the radio station I opted for the UC Davis frequency and they were playing obscure B 52's songs.  Mood stabilizer!  Whew, that was close.  

And now this for no reason:  

Yarg!  I am the dancing, sword wielding dragon man!!!  FEAR MEEE!!!!  Or just dance the rumba with me.  Either is acceptable.  

Back on the Horse (with prompting)

I got tagged:

The rules:

1. Respond and rework. Answer the questions on your blog, replace one question you dislike with a question of your own invention; add a question of your own.

2. Tag eight other un-tagged people.

Why do you blog?

For plenty of reasons, I suppose.  Mainly to give some of my more random thoughts and ideas an outlet.  I think that fact that other people may in fact read these words encourages me to write a titch better than I would if it were just me spilling to my diary.  Also when writing in a journal all the stupid word jokes, puns, etc go unheard and I really just can't abide by that.  

Oh and community with others.  

Good fika place?

Fika?  Like the tree?  Similar to Gin is Juiced I was unfamiliar with this term.  And I am not gonna lie, I sort of find it pretentious/yuppie way to describe a coffee place I like to go to and dish with friends.  That is, of course, what I label all things I don't know about though, so really I am simply defending my sensitive ego by insulting that which I don't understand.  Not so hot on my part.  I can honestly say I do not remember the last time I went with friends to grab tea or coffee and gab.  But if I did, I would go with the Naked Lounge in Sacramento.  Best coffee in town and comfy couches abound.  

Do you nap a lot?

On weekends and vacations I have been known to do some serious napping.  Otherwise I try to avoid it so as not to mess up my night time sleep schedule.  I also love a good power nap.  20-30 minutes and I am back on top.

Who was the last person you hugged?
AM.  I think he copped a feel too.  

If you were a tree, what tree would you be?

The tree of knowledge.  I AM KIDDING.  I hate questions like this.   

Have you ever had an altercation with the police?

I believe I have heatedly discussed a "situation" with a police lady in college during a spring all day campus party, but otherwise, no.

What was the last thing you bought?

A large Thai iced coffee. 

What are you listening to right now?

AM is watching an SNL clip on his computer.  Weekend Update.  Also, the dryer is on.  My answers to these questions are incredibly dull.  WOW.  

What is your favorite weather?

Spring certainly picks my mood up after the low light of winter months, but hardly anything beats the heavenly smell of crisp fall evenings.  In other words, I am completely wishy-washy on this issue.

What’s on your bedside table?

Top shelf: Family pictures, candles, some unused meds from before, and a water glass.

Middle shelf: Books, journals, books.

Bottom shelf: Books, basket of nail polishes, books.

I am sensing a theme.

Say something to the person/s who tagged you.

Gin, I would totally fika with you if we lived near one another.  

If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you want it to be?
Somewhere in the bay area sounds fantastic.  Hell, I'd be happy with something in Sacto for that matter.    

Favorite vacation spot?
Cannon Beach, Seattle, and Paris.

Name the things you can’t live without: 

For some reason I am finding this particularly hard to answer.  I choose to replace this question with the following:

Why is your nose and head experiencing a dull, throbbing pain?

Because a kid head-butted me in the face today, making direct forehead to nose contact.  On accident I believe, but the crunching cartilage noise is still echoing in my brain.  I have been delicately touching my face in a bizarre "what good can touching it possibly do, but I can't stop" way ever since.  

What would you like to have in your hands right now?
A temperature remote FOR THE WORLD!!  (it is seriously hot right now)  That or a check for a large sum of money with my name printed clearly and legibly on the Pay-to-the-order-of line.  

What is your favorite tea flavor?

Jasmine green tea.

What would you like to get rid of? 

My headache and the pile of old clothes that I have been meaning to donate for months that is sitting at the top of the stairs. 

If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go? 
Somewhere with a view of the ocean and the company of a good friend or a good book sounds mighty tasty right now.

What did you want to become as a child?

A detective.  I even had a pretend agency and a briefcase with my "detecting accouterments."  Perhaps I did not refer to my notebook, pen and magnifying glass that I carried around in a plastic doctor's visiting bag as accouterments at the time, but you never know.

What do you like better, e-mail or telephone calls?
Emails I think.  There are certain special people that I know so well I can hear their voice in each word as I read it and people are often more heartfelt when they write.  Perhaps more trusting that they can say things and mean them and be heard.  It is awfully hard to interrupt an email from finishing it's thought or to dominate a conversation.  These are two things I can be guilty of when talking on the phone.

What do you do when you get time alone?
I take baths, read and do my nails.  Also a lot of singing happens, including harmonies with whatever I am listening to up the wazoo.  Bathroom acoustics just cannot be stopped!

I don't think I have eight people to tag and truthfully the folks I will tag probably won't want to answer this and post it. The only people I can think of that haven't been tagged already are elitists who insist on having tight reigns over blog content.  Which is part of the reason I love them so.  Well, just for shits and giggles I will give it a go.  Here they are:

LJWMerge

An Island Year

Return to Tacoma

Umm, so that is pretty much it.  I would tag Michael Ian Black and Dooce, but I am led to believe they have no idea who I am.  Rats!

Fissure

Applying salve to cracked lips, putty in tack holes and resulting chips, wood glue for the split chair I fell backwards in the other week.  Lots of temporary fixes for what are chronic issues, structural weakness that need to be address more forthrightly.  But it is cheaper to spackle over it for now.  

I look at the various hobbled together things around me and wonder if it might just come crashing down at some point.  The car won't accept anymore mileage, the shelf no more books and junkmail, the favorite shirt has no more washes before the threads loosen at the seams to rags.  

And what of the internal?  This must be just along winded a metaphor right?  I am not sure.  For as much as I feel I am waiting for some important moment, and the waiting feel tedious so the year seems to have zipped along.  Here we are in April.  But I did break a chair and then jimmy-rig it into its current state of functioning with glue and sheer counter-force.  It works just fine and you can barely tell I smashed it in an ill-advised attempt to "lounge" in a cheap Ikea pine straightback chair while calculating numbers for applying for unemployment.  

Now I have a job and a chair that works.  So what's my big problem?  Here we must go back to the larger structural components and themes.  I do something I enjoy and am actually quite good at, but it is not what I dreamed I would be doing at this point.  Just more compromises because I don't have enough leverage to go for what I really want.  I have too much to give, too much to wonder about, too much to learn to keep pushing the putty back and forth.  

Tonight I told AM I am going to start studying for the GRE.  It is time.  I may not apply to schools by the end of this year, but at least I am going to have the GRE done.  I haven't a clue how we will work out me at school, but if I can deal with constantly chapped lips, broken furniture and this intense longing to do what I am meant to than it will work out.  Hand me the duct-tape and spray-paint.   

The further away from art you get, the less definite the lines, light, and brushstrokes are; however, you lose the sense of individual work and person behind each movement.  Which way do we each want to be seen?  I'm ready for my close-up.  Just let me grab my chapstick real quick...

Filler

I want to be this man's friend. Unfortunately I think he may not look this rad anymore.


Also, this made me giggle and then snort. Share I must.

HA! Mothra...

Phantom Niece

Since I just talked about excluding details regarding family it only makes sense that I word-vomit about my adorable, defenseless niece in the context of a family gathering. And for good measure my nephew too. I didn't blog when he was an infant/toddler so I have to make up for lost time.

All glory and praise be to the young relatives!! Not kidding, I experience what I imagine is close to bliss in the moments I get with those two. We play, we babble, we cuddle and I almost burst with love. I recently was in WA for a wedding and niece's birthday #1. I stole away with her and my nephew as much as the rest of my family would allow and good times were had. I carried her around on my hip or cradled her in my lap and read the newly minted five year old his favorite (of the day) book.

Leaving my sister and BIL's house was not pleasant as it meant the people I care for the most but see the least were again in my past. And I won't lie, I wanted more time to explore the world with the kiddos by my side. Catch more tumbling bodies, smell more downy heads, tickles more pudgy feet. I sat very still in the back seat of the car and watched the scenery, willing myself to commit all the words, noises, looks, games to memory. Suddenly I became aware of one of the greatest sensory experiences a person can have. The phantom weight of a child resting on you. Just as roller-coasters leave us whirly feeling hours later so can the steady weight of a child, then removed, linger. Is it some short-term muscle memory? Is my body on the fritz? I don't understand the physiology of it, nor do I care to. I just know that as the car ride continued to the ferry dock I barely moved so as not to disturb the impression left by my sweet redheaded hobit girl.

"and the greatest of these things is love." Can't argue with you on that one Jesus.

A deletion

This will be a quick note because I have some live music to see and I am morally opposed to attending such events in my pajamas. Which I am currently wearing. Change gonna come, oh yes it is.

Note: I am going to delete a post or two from my blog because I believe they involve personal information regarding people I care for. Clearly, I don't give a rats ass about divulging trade secrets about myself, but I do want to draw the line there. Also, I want my family to be able to read my blog without cringing, shuddering and feeling vague (or acute for that matter) animosity towards me. Not much has actually been said that would cause this reaction I don't think, but I am going to opt on the side of caution and assume it would trip some sensitivity wires. In this case assuming something is way less "ass out of u and me" and way more "protecting the feelings of those I love."


HOWEVER, this does not mean I won't mention you in the future. Especially if you did something I find particularly humorous like my good friend in WA who is a teacher and calls certain students "hot messes." TO THEIR FACE. That is hilarious and needs to be shared with the world without her permission. When she asks her particularly disorganized students why no one chose to be their binder activity partner they studiously reply "because my binder is a hot mess." So what did we learn today? "To not be such a hot mess." Educators take note.


So, it stands at one edited and one deleted. If EVER I cross the line let me know and I will remedy as quick as my ditzy-for-posting-it-in-the-first-place butt can. Assuming I like you. If not, I don't give a fuck.