Other people - less profane people, probably - call them love bugs. Or honeymoon flies (which since they're flies is probably more accurate.) But.

they're everywhere. And they're fucking. Nonstop. i think they get stuck that way. they swarm in huge masses and get into my car, inevitably, because i have to leave the windows open just enough so that the car isn't baking, and then they get in through the half-inch-open windows and have sex on the seats and then it gets too hot for them and they die there. They're disgusting. and now i learn that every time i drive through a swarm of them (which has happened every time i drive my car for the past week and a half) and they all squash on my car, they're actually eating through the paint. Fuck. Ugggggg, i have to wash my car. Uck uck freaking uck. And they're not supposed to go away for another two weeks at least. What a pain. Honeymoon flies, my ass - they're FuckingBugs.

and really, what they sort of remind me of - at least the effect one gets in the car - is a big, fat-flaked snowstorm at night (for those of you still up in the frozen North), with your brights on and shit flying at you from all directions.

Labels: texas

aw, man - i was hoping Angelina was the Sky Captain. Nope, it's Jude Law. *sigh*

Canoeing was good. we had a long, long week - party on tues., which we had to clean like mad for, anyway, and weds we put together the pool table and we never have any time on thursdays and then friday was busy with the softball game all nite and the roof drama and work drama and nothing canoe-related was even vaguely organized until friday afternoon or so. And even then. But. the river was running nicely fast, so we didn't have to paddle hardly at all, and with the lovely, perfect, best-purchase-ever-for-the-price air mattress, and with enough beer and didn't even have to open the whiskey (save it for next time, then) and just enough gatorade. Powerade. Whatever. i like Green-flavor. Yellow-flavor isn't too bad. Red-flavor is a little too far to the sweet side and just ends up making me thirstier ... and our foil-dinner came out perfect ... and there was that whole thing with J ... j and i sort of have this amicable antagonization thing going. because he's this crazy drawly country-music texan (or he pretends to be, after living in Japan and going to Reed), and of course i'm a new yorker. so he acts like he's picking a fight, and i play like i could kick his sorry texan ass, and he pretends to believe it and cowers in make-believe fear and apology. so he tosses some mud at me - there was a lot of mud-tossing - and i toss some back - it's really splattery, easily-tossed mud. Perfect. so eventually i fill my hat with mud, and sneak up behind him, and i was careful to pick out all the rocks ... so everyone had a great time with the mud, only he started it, obviously, so when he dove into the water to rinse out his hair (we all really needed rinsing), he smacked his forehead on a rock. It was almost instant karma - it was about five minutes. He was bleeding like mad and had to wear gauze wrapped around his head.

Also, only one of my shoulders is sunburned.

Labels: camping

Canoeing. Right now. Annoying that m went canoeing for the race all damned summer and i never got to go on any fun trips. Bastard race. Maybe enough beer. Maybe enough water. Maybe enough gatorade. Tired already. Dammned hot.

Labels: camping

i got a funny spam yesterday. And while the random sentence spams remain my favorites, this one seemed like a keeper as well - it's so well done. And Brian Ralph Johnson is just enough in my head to sound almost familiar, he's not enough in my head (until i googled it) to actually remember that it's the name of the geek from the Breakfast Club. The english was rather better than it is in much spam, and most of the commas are in the right places; it's appropriately capitalized; it uses big words properly. And it's appealing to a person with a certain sort of job dissatisfaction. And the filter didn't catch it.

Friend, A couple of years ago, I was pretty happy with my career. Then the bubble burst and my career path became very unstable. Now, I'm still relatively young and I have a long working life ahead of me. And, just like you, I want to be fairly compensated for my efforts. So, I became pretty frustrated when I didn't have the degree I needed to make the job transition I wanted. And, I certainly didn't have the time or money to go back to school for full-time "retraining." Then, I checked out this site. You can find out information on hundreds of programs. Its all free, with no obligation. [name of vaguely porny-sounding site] Check it out, it's the best career move I ever made. Good luck, Brian Ralph Johnson

And, then, the site is a little porny-sounding, and i know there's all kinds of porn, but who would want to see the geek from the breakfast club getting it on? Not me. He doesn't even end up with a girl in the movie. So it's not too convincing. But ...odd.

Labels: internet

because when i sent him a fan mail, he wrote me back and was an absolutely lovely perfect gentleman. And because savage love is really good this week: "...and when we discovered lubricant, we tried for puppies as often as we could." Such a happy ending.

Labels: internet, people

it's official: i'm getting a New Boss. as of Monday.

not sure if i should stay. Not that it matters yet, i haven't got any actual job offers, per se. Maybe i just won't look as hard. yay New Boss!

Labels: work

goodness, Marian Dragulescu is delectable, isn't he? he looks like he's made of marzipan and ought to be surrounded by bluebirds and pears and little oddly-colored flowers. i don't particularly like marzipan. but he does look like it. paul hamm has a funny voice. i remember the first time i heard Chyna talk. *snicker* i think if i was a tv announcer, i'd really like saying "van den hoogenband" too. Vandenhoogenband. wasn't that fun? what do you do if you're sixteen and have three gold medals? where do you go from there? what's left to fucking accomplish? how cool is it that we swept the 400m? what do you do if you're nineteen and have eight medals? how can it be that india, with 16% of the world's population, has one medal, as in 0.001%, and the u.s. has seventy - how can we even pretend to call that a fair competition? go worldwide affirmitive action! medals to bangladesh, already! Somebody there has to deserve one.

Labels: media

long day. long good day. Shit hit the fan early at work, but not my shit. Not sure what the final consequenses might be; i haven't been Officially Informed of the shit hitting the fan in the first place, yet, so. boss is hiding from everybody. (was boss's shit that hit the fan.) Burned my finger a bit on an experiment, but. Leaving an hour early. Nice left-overs were for lunch. Go home and play sparkly hostess lady later, fun. Exhausting. But fun. Emily loves parties - hopefully Denali won't do too badly. He'll just hide, anyway. Must change shirt, shoes, put on makeup. Must, yes. M has to get the keg. House is basically clean. Hope we have enough charcoal. Like throwing parties. Even if a Tuesday. Especially like throwing parties when don't have to pay for them and funded by Grad Students. w00t!

Labels: work

as in, the other stolen painting. Which i think is far lovelier than the Scream. also, this person has generally good taste. but. why would you want to have the Scream on your wall? it's not pretty. it's not a happy painting. it's not even a sad painting. and it doesn't have any of the power of anger. it's panicky. if a stomach ulcer painted it would look like the Scream. all those angry, acidic reds. the person has such awful color, greenish and alien. people in blue coats, that look like policemen, advancing towards him - he's immediately far from sympathetic. everything is crooked and off-kilter - our antihero, here, is entirely astigmatic - but it doesn't make it abstract and cool; it makes it chaotic and destabilizing and sort of threateningly viral. if HIV painted. if Ebola painted. Killer flu. the guy looks like he's about to jump off that bridge. It's evocative, sure, but what kind of person deliberately hangs raw panic on the wall? what kind of atmosphere would you be trying to create? jeez, i'm never going to understand Type A's.

The Madonna, on the other hand, now that's something. if i was the mother of god (and of innumerable cults) that's sure what i'd look like. relaxed and sensual and just as evocative as the Scream, but full of peace and ease - she's not scratching her back, there, or showing off her tits; she's stretching. she's entirely unselfconscious, but she's dreamy. and with that little scarf around her hips, she could very well be into belly.

Labels: media

which means being the child of a cargo-class traveller but also a really first-class pack-rat (as i may possibly have mentioned before). which means that (a)you bring everything you own and (b)you own a lot. which is fine for them - they had that little period in which they had nothing, so having everything now sort of makes weird psychological sense. But. A refugee's kid gets used to having lots of stuff around, so there are first-generation refugees' kids who notice pack-rat tendencies of their own, as well as those who have extremely well-defined pack-rat habits but who never notice them because you're just used to having massive piles of all sorts of random i-might-need-this-someday kind of stuff and it doesn't occur to you to live otherwise. and then there's me. it's not like i moved to an ultra-modern, super-minimalist, uber-industrial loft somewhere. i have stuff hanging on the walls. i have stuff stacked on bookshelves. i have stuff in closets. but as a first-generation child of a refugee, one really has to nip that pack-rat shit in the bud or it gets away with you. because you don't notice that you're accumulating until it's too late. there are these irrational little voices in your head that say i might need that someday when or but that would come in handy if or if i fixed that then. and the irrational little voices are the voices of your refugee parents, because they say things like that all the fucking time. so you make an effort to say instead, in response, even if i lost thirty pounds ( - not that i need to, Voice in My Head), i'm certainly not going to get any shorter, so that really has no possibility of fitting me ever again in a way that i like in the slightest and i can toss it. But it takes an effort.

And we're done, finally, with the List that Wanted to be Blogged Two Weeks Ago. Phew.

Labels: emptor, family

saturday wasn't too bad - i trimmed the hedge in front of the house so we can actually see out the windows again because the new grad students are all coming over on tuesday and the hedge won't regrow in the meantime, but in doing so, i got this massive blister under my ring finger on the left (it's always been an area prone to blisters, though, it's not because of the Sparkly) and also - this is new and probably due entirely to the fact that i don't like taking off the Sparkly and try to avoid doing so at all costs - a weird sort of bloody spot above the Sparkly. so next time i hack those bushes to pieces (which really they seem to like - our bushes look MUCH better than all our neighbors' bushes, and i can't really 'one-up the Joneses' on much, so it's nice to have the best hedge in the immediate vicinity. And our lawn isn't half bad either. Especially since m edged it on sunday. But we're still on saturday, here.) i have to remember to remove the Sparkly so as to not get the weird bloody spot. It looks kind of like a hickey. so also the dogs got a bath and a brush from Petco (and denali got some extra brush upon his arrival at home, because the Petco people obviously have no experience in dealing with double-coated coyote dogs) and some nice fat chickeney chewies and i got another pair of yoga pants for belly class. I like getting yoga pants for belly class - the fit is entirely different, and i've never been a small before. Because in yoga, you need stretchy and comfy and not self-conscious. But for now, with belly, i need to know if i'm jiggling properly. it's great fun. i haven't been a small since ... when i was little i was barely supposed to hit five feet tall - i was in the third percentile, or something. Well. That was saturday.

Sunday we got up early early and cleaned the garage. Which was extra yucky because there was this dead cockroach that had been hiding behind the plant-pots (and that actually i'd seen before, established that it was dead, and left there because i hate dealing with cockroaches on any level and knowing somewhere in the back of my head that there was a dead cockroach behind the plant-pots in the garage was better than moving the plant-pots and actually cleaning and having to deal with the dead cockroach) .. and anyway i finally had to deal with the dead cockroach. Yeeurrgh. But. And anyway we'd had a nice omelet first full of feta and basil and good things. Then off to Lowes to get a decent shelf to put everything on and some work gloves and some canoe-holding-hooks to suspend the canoe somehow from the ceiling of the garage. Oh, hey m, what about the attic? Because we can still get in, and a canoe is long and skinny and fits perfectly through the attic door. Maybe. Worth a shot. And the guy at the cash register at Lowes was supposed to send a person out to help me fit this massively heavy shelf into the jetta. but nobody came. and it was fucking heavy. on top of being hot and humid and still relatively early in the morning. and then home and again i get to move the damn shelf all by myself. But. That's okay. And more cleaning out the garage and constructing this massive shelf and it fits, of course, and even better, the turkey fryer fits on top of it almost exactly to the ceiling, and putting everything on the shelf, and sweeping the garage (including the dead cockroach) and picking up all the nails that probably aren't a good thing to have in a driveway. and suddenly our garage is freaking HUGE.

only then it was about to rain - it's been not tooo hot, but ungodly humid all day, so now it's getting thundery and we have to put everything back in the garage, and it's not so big any more. And we try to put the canoe up. And try to put the canoe up. And try to put the canoe up. And try to put the canoe up. And there just aren't any fucking studs in the ceiling. So we can't. Because the canoe isn't heavy for being a canoe, but it's not going to just hang from drywall, either. And then j comes over and we have this nice consensus that it's not happening. And then c is finally home. And m and j go to c's to evaluate the deconstruction of the pool table. And then i call them maybe two hours later and they're on their way back with the pool table in the back of j's truck because they're all done deconstructing it and want to build it back tonight, like, right now. So i move the car so j can get into the driveway nearer to the garage and move everything out of the way of Where the Pool Table will Go. And they're back and yup, there's a whole lot of wood, and some felt, and a big pile of slate in j's truck. And we put it together and the slate doesn't fit and we've stripped a bunch of the screws so we drill the screws out and take it apart and put it together again much more carefully (if the original people who put it together hadn't fucked up themselves and made some extra screw-holes, we'd have had a much harder time of it) and now the slate fits. And the felt fits. And we're basically level. And the attic steps can still open (this was KEY). Only we need to get actual pockets (because it had ball-rails before and they were gross and sticky and all busted-up anyway) and fix one of the bumpers (really only half of one of the bumpers, and it'll not be too hard, either) before we can actually finish finishing construction. But. it's monday now. and i'm still tired.

Labels: house

The wretched King Minos has decided your fate. His tale wraps around his body 2 times. The sweet light no longer strikes against your eyes. Your shade has been banished to... the Second Level of Hell!

You have come to a place mute of all light, where the wind bellows as the sea does in a tempest. This is the realm where the lustful spend eternity. Here, sinners are blown around endlessly by the unforgiving winds of unquenchable desire as punishment for their transgressions. The infernal hurricane that never rests hurtles the spirits onward in its rapine, whirling them round, and smiting, it molests them. You have betrayed reason at the behest of your appetite for pleasure, and so here you are doomed to remain. Cleopatra and Helen of Troy are two that share in your fate. The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Second Level of Hell!

Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
Purgatory (Repenting Believers) - V. Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-believers) - Moderate
Level 2 (Lustful) - Extreme
Level 3 (Gluttonous) - V. High
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious) - Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy) - Moderate
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics) - High
Level 7 (Violent) - High
Level 8 - the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers) - High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous) - Moderate

at least i can go visit o in the Maleboge. and i bet i'll have friends in Dis.

Labels: tests

there are people who don't like airports. they're sterile and have filtered air and are all the same and you can't smoke in them and none of them have any personality and are all gray and blue and white with the same neon tunnels and high clerestories and uncomfortable row seats and sbarro's after sbarro's after sbarro's. and i know this. and to get into an airport you have to take off your shoes and get funny looks from the person behind the x ray machine and park somewhere terribly far away and lug all your stuff around and sit in those awful little airplane-seats and they try to give you a pillow because you look sleepy, but who knows where that pillow has been, and you're thinking i didn't turn down the air conditioner and what if the dogs chew on the DVDs and i hope i brought enough underwear and aw, hell, i'm not going to read ulysses anyway, and you're never hungry but there's nothing to do so you go to the bagel place or the burger place or the bar and think for a minute about the time d and a were going to model u.n. or something and got drunk in the airport bar and missed their flight entirely, and the time a and z went to canada and got stuck because they didn't have passports and they had to call the school, and wondering how the weather will be and how the trip will go and if there'll be turbulence in the air and if there'll be turbulence at home later, and you look at the people going by and make up little stories for them - always melodramatic, tragic, exciting: she's having an affair; he's moving to tokyo; they're in the witness protection program; he's in the brazilian mafia; he's a 44-y-o virgin; she's going to be an award-winning journalist when she's done with this story; he secretly loves Disney memorabilia; she said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy - and you wonder if it's a universal thing to make up stories for people and if it is what are the stories they make up for you? and you sit a little differently and tug on your shirt and pretend to be reading and think if they're making up stories they can probably tell i'm only pretending to be reading.

Labels: reflection

so it's remarkably easy to make wedding planning decisions. Not being one of Those People who's been planning my wedding since before i was able to speak had been sort of a thing that i was a little bit proud of. i always had no idea of what kind of dress i wanted or what sorts of bouquets i liked or which music might be nice to have or what sorts of locations i wanted or anything. only then in two days up in indiana, without having ever thought about it in advance, starting to plan things, people kept asking me stuff - and i pulled answers out of thin air, like i'd been thinking about them all my life (just like one of Those People). and they were exactly the right answers, too; i don't think i'm going to change my mind about ... anything, really. and i'm not exactly a person that makes decisions quickly. i was absolutely shocked by the fact that i already knew what i wanted. which is a good thing, sure - it's not like i want anything terribly complex - but it's a little bit funny for someone who specifically Hasn't been planning a wedding for ages and who really Doesn't make snap decisions. so my subconscious (or is it my unconscious?) has been planning my wedding without me.

at least it's been doing a good job.

Labels: wedding

at m's cousin's wedding, they were somehow becoming not a pair, not a set, not a permanent group, not a couple, but becoming one person, one unit. Which doesn't really sound like something i want to do. (i'm not really attracted to nirvana either - i like being myself entirely too much to want to evaporate - but that's another topic entirely.) i don't want to dissolve into m or have him fade into me - i don't think it sounds quite healthy. we've had a successful relationship as two seperate, self-actualized, more-or-less independent entities. and i'm in love with him and i want to spend my life with him but i don't want to entirely lose my selfhood in the process. it's a little bit of a horrifying idea - it's not "obey," and at least it's reciprocal, but it's creepy all the same.

Labels: wedding

so at m's cousin's wedding last week or two weeks ago - they were married by this minister/priest/televangelist person who had known them both for quite some time (they're nice little churchgoing types). and it was very nice because this person had known them both just about forever, since they were in junior high or so, and it was this very personal, specific ceremony. but m and i aren't exactly churchgoing types, and even if we were i don't think we'd go to the same ones, and there aren't any clergypeople that know me at all (which isn't something i mind in the slightest) and i don't think m is friendly with too many either. and quakers don't have other people marry them anyway so even if i did know any clergypeople they wouldn't do it. (but, wow, poho changed their website. Good for them.) but. so. we don't have any priest-types of our own. but we don't want to hire a priest because he might turn out like m's cousin's priest - talking about jesus in every other sentence (at times he sounded like he was officiating a menage a trois - because jesus is with them every step, at all times, holding both their hands, between them, watching them, loving them, actually between them at all times, and however they love each other, they're loving each other through jesus). no jesus-talk. none. and i have to talk to m and see if we want any god-talk at all; we may not. Which would be fine. but which would make it complicated to get a clergyperson. and we don't know any justices of the peace either of course. we were thinking that t is internet-ordained but i think we may have offended him a little bit ("by the power vested in me by SCIENCE!") only then there's this other person down here that m was talking to only he's a jehovahs' witness and really i don't think ... i mean on second thought i really don't think a jehovahs' witness would be entirely appropriate, you know? i'd sort of rather have t do it (by a pretty damn good margin, too). But.

m's cousin's preacher was scary. he was so theatrical. and yes, there was videotaping going on, and yes, weddings are stagey and contrived, but ...i dunno. He didn't blink often enough. when they make the Dark Tower series into a movie, he could be the .. ahm .. Walking Dude.

Labels: wedding

What Classic Movie Are You?

Labels: tests

parents' old dog died in january after a long and happy life (r.i.p. mokka). so they need another one. this became glaringly obvious when, visiting home, nothing was trying to escape out the garage door (clearly a state of things that cannot be allowed to continue). mom wants a dog. brother, quite frankly, absolutely requires a dog. and dad always pretended to not like the fact that there was a dog but we all knew better.

i think they should get something small, either gender but thoroughly fixed, that won't shed inappropriately, probably not an actual puppy but maybe not quite an adult either (really I think they would be very happy with an adult dog, but they want a puppy, which i think is a terrible idea). already somewhat house/crate trained - like this one. Or this one. Or absolutely 100% this little guy. Or this pretty baby girl. And this one looks like rather a cuddle bug. And this one looks absolutely perfect even if they'll think it's too big. they're entirely too picky, the parents. and i would have got them one if they hadn't been having a party on saturday (which would be a lot for a new dog to deal with). but i think a lot of dogs would be perfectly happy to sit in the house all day with a couple of chewy toys. Mine are. They need a dog. Already.

Labels: dogs, family

the zoo in new york is i think the third oldest in the country. and of course they have lions and tigers and bears and penguins and leopards and tiny baby golden monkeys and some really stinky - what were they? - i don't know, ocelots or something, and other random zoo creatures. But. They have this huge spectacular wolf park with a little mirrored room at the bottom of the hill that you walk into and then the wolves trot along by because it's next to the den, which is just to the right under a nice pile of rocks, and then there's a boardwalk along the top of the hill with twenty-five cent binocular-machines to look at all the nice fuzzy wolves. And m likes wolves. A little bit. Kind of. Lots and lots. so we went to the zoo and saw the lions and tigers and bears and leopards and tiny baby golden monkeys (which were very cute, but not quite as cute, I thought, as the tiny baby black-and-white monkeys) and then we went to the wolf enclosure. they have several gray wolves (which of course were wild and noble and elegant and solemn) and several smaller red wolves as well as several extra-smaller red wolf puppies. the red wolf puppies are small and happy and cute and playful and they run around for a little while and then disappear for a bit (presumably to take a nap in a hole somewhere) and then wake up and play tag for a while more. it's adorable. daddy-wolf paces in, i think, exactly the same way you always see new dads pacing in tv hospital waiting rooms.

Labels: dogs

they don't eat when we're gone. so then a, the babysitter, has to give them lots of treats. so then they don't want to eat when we're back, either, because they only want treats, but we deal with that easily enough. but when we're back they both get all clingy and watch us and if we make the slightest move towards getting up or, god forbid, going out the front door, they're all over us. they stand on top of us when we sit down. and they're all cuddly, and have these big brown eyes, and wet black noses, and denali is shedding like a madman, and people are coming over next tuesday and we have to clean the ENTIRE HOUSE before then because it's all absolutely covered in denali-hair. the couch is gross. i don't want to think about the floor. bet they're getting groomed on saturday. bet i need to make an appointment for it.

Labels: dogs

not going to talk about this. For various reasons. but, this leads directly into
we have a nice little mexican standoff going, the parents and me. Also not going to talk about this further.

Labels: blogging, family

k lives in florida. mom has a house in florida (which has far less stuff than the house in new york, mostly because she spends most of her time in new york and as her accumulation of stuff happens at a fairly constant rate, most of the stuff is accumulated in new york, and then it stays there) and the idiot that painted it so the hurricane shutters couldn't be closed. but. k couldn't come up and see us. must call k. very sad. she was actually in texas but that was when we were in indiana. the week of texas that we missed was also the week of summer (there's always only one, and we always miss it) that actually had nice weather. hey people, we have a Person Coming to Visit during bocktoberfest. besides, i've never been to shiner. so come visit, already. or alternately there's the ren fest. which, looking at the band lineup for shiner, might be more fun. i suppose it depends. but october is good weather for visiting.

Labels: family

i changed the color on the wed-site. i like yellow. yellow and gray on a web page, maybe not so much. so these colors may not stick. Probably i should put white in it somewhere to make it weddingy. Weddingy is so a word. Um. Must pick a date. a+a are getting married in jamaica (oooo, how exotic) on june 5 (2005) and are having a welcome-home thing in texas on i think the 11th or so. around then. but. we were originally thinking that they were getting married later in june or july so that memorial day would be good for us, which is may 28th, i.e., one week before a+a. and we could push back to may 21st or so. which may be a good idea. not sure how many people are going to a+a, WE are, and they'd probably like to come to ours, and we haven't actually set anything yet. it may be next year. it may be well after that. we may decide that the 21st is fine since ours is easier to get to and lower-key. we may decide that we can put the whole thing off for a year. we may decide that fuck everybody, we're doing it in september after all. we may decide to pick a new location and have it in august. if we had ours on the 28th we could have our honeymoon in jamaica and end up with a+a's wedding. which would be kind of fun, but would be a lot of weddings for at least a couple of people to attend. Because there'll probably be overlap. But i'm not sure how many people are going to ... well ... are going to be able to afford jamaica. i'm not entirely sure we'd be able to if we wouldn't be (a)deciding this early to save big $$$ for it and (b)the possibility of making the parents pay for it as a honeymoon. We'd be able to afford it. But we'd be ...slim for a bit. i can't say i'm thinking out loud, really - it doesn't quite work - thinking on paper, either - this wouldn't be a problem if i couldn't type so fast. what do people think? is two phi psi weddings in two weeks too much? if one is in indiana (driving distance from all of wisconsin) and one is in somewhat sultrier climes? Must get m. to call a+a and see if they could make it if it was two weeks ahead of theirs. September might sound good. maybe i'll call my parents and tell them they don't get to have problems with september any more. Hah.

Labels: wedding

i'm making progress on my list of things to blog. yay :) mom is a pack rat. more on this later (under "on being a first-generation child of a refugee.") so. not only are the rooms smaller and the ceilings lower and everything closer in (which, now that i think about it just a little bit more, may be partly due to the open floor plan of my own house here in TX and the lack of stuff in it) and everything sort of appearing to be more dense, but, everything really is more dense. mom has accumulated more stuff since i was last home (but i suppose it's only what i should be expecting from an avowed pack rat as i haven't been to new york in what, two and a half years?) but mom has not gotten rid of any stuff since i was last home (including the box of clothes of mine that didn't fit me any more, or i hated them, that i put in the garage and wrote SALVATION ARMY on and said I'm Done with These Please Give them Away - that box is still there because she didn't want to get rid of them) and mom didn't have enough space for the stuff that was there two and a half years ago and doesn't have enough space for the stuff that's there now. m and c, among others, can attest to this. it's awful. it's distracting. it makes me claustrophobic and uncomfortable. because there's room to walk between the stuff - aisles - little cleared pathways, like deer trails through a forest, only not as zen. if you're on a deer trail in a forest, at least you're in a forest. maybe more like the frozen hedge garden in the shining with an axe-wielding crazy person trying to find you. *sigh*

Labels: emptor, family

they've gotten lower. and the rooms are smaller. and the light fixtures are lower down (and larger, too, somehow). the stairways are narrower. furniture isn't as tall. windows don't go for as far. but the ceilings are really the most astonishingly altered bit - they're lower than they were before. i swear. but. this is what i get for moving out at 14. do you notice how tiny college freshmen are? they're scrawny little people. very short. and, so, obviously, we were like that too ... only not at the time.

Labels: family, people

there's a house on the lake in indiana (m's cousin married into a family with a house on the lake and a boat to wander about the lake on) that belongs to the owner of, i believe, the indianapolis colts. It has nineteen bathrooms and i'm guessing probably at least two kitchens. isn't it stylish to have two kitchens in phenomenally expensive houses? and maybe a third one outside? anyway. Nineteen bathrooms and at least one dishwasher. how tempting would it be, if someone was in the shower, to ... you can see where i'm going with this, i'm sure. Even though it probably wouldn't work. but who the fuck needs nineteen bathrooms? what could you possibly do with them all? and wouldn't you want more larger room-spaces instead? or a little extra garage? plentiful storage? jeez.

and what makes it even better is, he doesn't even live there. Nineteen bathrooms and it's not good enough to actually inhabit.

Labels: emptor, house

and it's a great, lovely, wonderful thing to have not had this particular conversation with my mom:
mom, did you and dad really pose naked in a calendar?
oh, heavens no.
oh that's much better. i'm so glad.
we were wearing TEVAs!

Labels: family, media

there is also, just for the record, absolutely nothing wrong with the following recipie for spinach artichoke dip:

obtain either one package frozen chopped spinach, or one package (because really, they only come in one size) pre-washed fancy-lettuce-grocery-store-section baby spinach bag. Chop the baby spinach if it proves to be the option you have selected. it doesn't have to be very small - i think ideally it would be, but it's such a pain to chop properly i always end up having mostly long strips and a couple of whole little baby-spinach leaves. So. if you have chosen frozen pre-chopped spinach, defrost it somehow, typically in a microwave for a couple of minutes. it's in foil. don't be a dumbass. blue fire in the microwave is fun but not part of Making Food To Eat. get a little jar of artichoke hearts. these can usually be found near canned vegetables, but if you're in the wegmans in endicott, NY, they are more easily come across in the mexican aisle, and that's fine. cut up the artichoke hearts (or mush-up, but make sure you have relatively clean hands). no, you don't want that weirdo oily liquid they come in. toss it. you there in vermont, recycle, and remember that i'm jealous because texas doesn't recycle anything and it gives those of us who are even moderately environmentally aware a guilt complex. get a package or two of cream cheese and slice that so it melts a bit quicker / easier and put those in too. get a packet of shredded parmesan, or a large pile (i.e., a double-handful or so) of parmesan that you have shredded yourself if you have a FUNCTIONAL cheese grater, which not everyone does, which we know, NOW. add most of the parmesan. Maybe if you like feta and happen to have some on hand put in a little less parm and a chunk of feta. don't use the dried-up parmesan shit from the spaghetti aisle. it's far too barbarian. mix it up thoroughly and stick it in the microwave for 8-10 minutes. taste some. if you only added one package of cream cheese put in about half a container of (full-fat, obviously, you imbeciles) sour cream. don't ever use the lo-fat stuff. ever. decide how much salt and/or pepper, basil, red pepper flakes, garlic powder, et c. to add, and add it, and mix it thoroughly again, and make sure it tastes good. Ok then. Maybe put it back in the microwave if everything isn't totally melted, but it shouldn't really be neccessary. Stir some more. now put the rest of the parmesan (really not very much) sprinkled over top and broil it for a minute or two to get that mmmmmnice crispy thing going. a glass bread-pan is the ideal vessel for this as it is microwave-safe and can go in the oven and is about the right size and you can fit a spoon in it. Mine is blue. this is good on (so far): toast; crackers; tortilla chips; blue tortilla chips; red tortilla chips; red bell peppers; green bell peppers; tomatoes; celery; chicken sandwiches; turkey-breast sandwiches; pita; falafel; breasticks. Other good things to put in might include small bits of asparagus, mozzarella cheese, maybe possibly avocado, certainly just about any other rational kind of cheese that might occur to you (though really, not cheddar, and certainly not american, but i can imagine that fontina might do rather well, for example), parsley, maybe tarragon. I could see tarragon.

something in me wants to say caviar. i'm not sure why. i'm pretty sure m hates it, anyway. But everyone likes the dip.

Labels: food

which really happened ages ago and i've been forgetting about it. so. needed things from target, two weeks ago or so. Tuesday. and i'm thinking of how busy i am (i had belly dancing that afternoon and having been someone who doesn't ever exercise, and i get so fucking sick of my mother asking me about it, but anyway, i have no exercise clothes at all, and obviously have to get some) so i go to target on my lunch hour. Which is really just then maybe one or two o'clock. and i go to target. and there are big families and they're all fat and some of the kids don't have any shirts on and all the moms' shorts are just too short, you know, and they're loud and the kids are running everywhere and this isn't just one family - this is many. there's an entire family in every checkout aisle, only the kids are kind of in-between, too, and it's hard to tell which family any given kid belongs to other than by which fat-ass mom is yelling at them but even that isn't definite. and i'm thinking, why - but - hey - aren't these walmart people? and since when can kids go shirtless (and barefoot, for that matter) into target?

Labels: emptor

being back is nice. my house. my car. my bed. my fridge without any food in it, but, hey. my dog and my other dog that happens to be massively shedding and smells like a barnyard - bath time, i think. it's been probably eight months since they had a bath, so they'll just have to get used to the idea. what to do tonight: go to the grocery store? doggy bath time? make a scarf for belly dancing? attempt practicing belly dancing, even? pay bills, probably? pick actual wedding-date, as a&a are getting hitched far-away early in june, rather than later, as i'd hoped? discuss with c? Get c's phone number, then? ...hmm, might be busy.

my couch. my window. my bathroom and shower-scrubby and shampoo. my snuggly blanket. my internet pizza delivery. my actual DECENT, FUNCTIONAL cheese grater, because my parents' cheese grater is ucky and covered in rust and really not very sharp. my vaccuum cleaner that actually works, also in contrast to my parents' vaccuum cleaner. my pillow. my other pillow (m's pillow). my deck. my shoes. my tv with most of the channels deleted (the brother undeletes every channel from the parents' tv - fox news, and qvc, and the color-bar channel, and espn 8, and the golf channel, and the nun channel, and ... yeah, it's nice being home. and as an extra ADDED perk, there's no crazy family at home. i always get along with them better when they're 1500 miles away.

Labels: house

and, fuck, you can't look at pettus' mud wrestling photos and bust.com while the parents are hovering around. 'cuz you can't. but i've been reading pettus' e-life so long i can't remember how i found it first.

Labels: internet

previews, or, more to blog later: nineteen bathrooms and the dishwasher. the ceilings of my parents' house. the floors of my parents' house. what happens when a parent (about whom one sometimes blogs) finds a blog and how to be sneaky (sneaky) about it. ems and dd and how they obviously miss us. on being a first-generation child of a refugee. that bastard hurricane and how i wanted to see my aunt k. the wolf puppies. issues surrounding getting the parents a dog. and more.

Labels: family, random

compu so slow it's actually painful. things to blog later - must type very slow, poor fucking compu - airports and anonymity and new york. two are united into one - wha?. i swear that freako preacher was. white trash at target at noon on a tuesday. it's a real chore typing slow enough for the computer to catch all the keystrokes. on being: obviously a subconscious wedding planner. (compu missed keys: subconscious wedding panner?) pity me. pity pity pity. not even slow internet - slow internet + normal compu would be faster than this. crazy family. they hate when i talk about them (sneaky, sneaky). arrgh, no mousey-scrolly-bar, no right-click-more later when less technofrustrated.

incommunicado. m says hi.

Labels: internet

no internet in indiana.
crumby computers and slow internet in ny.
don't expect anything.
ttfn.

Labels: wedding

texas.

indiana.

new york.

highs in the motherfucking seventies. in the seventies! and the low seventies at that. aaaah, i'm gonna freeze!

Labels: wedding

busybusy. remember to-do: more dog food. pictures developed (probably no scanner for a while, guys, but i have house pictures and dog pictures and assuming the stupid disposable camera isn't all screwy this time they'll develop properly anyway and will be posted eventually). email directions to n and k. identify and locate cd's to bring for parents. pack. think of something to do with hair @ s's wedding. get summer-time pajamas (yay angie and Old Navy discount card). find vet's phone number to leave note on coffee table for just-in-case. charge cell phone. write cover letter, print out cover letter, drop off resume. (locate office at which to drop off resume.) identify shoes to wear with new outfit for wedding that (a) is summery but (b) covers still-disfiguring, not-really-itchy, ugly-as-hell poison ivy-rash on elbow/lower arm (probably stick with flip flops - either the leather or target-turquose-rhinestone). be thankful that new outfit is already identified / purchased / is really only a sweater. decide on pinstripe or linen skirt (probably go with linen - keep in mind this decision influences shoes). identify books to bring with (remember parents have an entire fucking library, even if most of it's boring). tell m parents have philosophy books for him to read if he likes. remember to finish / bring back plague, already, i've been reading it for how long now, and i'm so fucking sick of that stupid little city but i want to see who else dies.

i can never deliberately stop reading things. it can sort of peter off (i.e., ulysses, though when i'm done, i think i should read finnegans wake, and in the meantime, this might come in handy) but - even then i'm never really satisfied. i'm on about page 150 of ulysses. not sure if i'll bring it with or not. something to do. meh. maybe. anyway, camus is waiting for me in ny. can't believe the parents don't have a dog yet. remember to go to the zoo in ny and hopefully see the wolf puppies. Let it occur to self that denali also looks like a red wolf. breathe.

Labels: media, random, work

so a little weirded about the Seeing the Parents Next Week. Five people. One house. One and a half bathrooms; one and a half cars (as i'm pretty sure the old vee-dub with the 200k+ miles on it has gone kinda less-than reliable). No dogs. One internet. Two halfway-decent computers, one of which is a mac, and the other is my little bro's, and i doubt he'll let anyone else touch it. Weds thru sun - so three complete days, one afternoon-eve, and one morning. gonna be long. and a trial. we'll count the screaming matches, and the panic attacks, and the number of times i get totally disgusted with all of them.

AND i'm missing my bellydance class next week. bastards. i've never set foot in a gym as a paying customer until yesterday (and the girl at the counter was bitchy, too) and they're all interfering. i think it's already good for my cholesterol to go inside a gym. i think it's a big step. bellydance is fun: instead of eeuuwww, i have jiggly bits it's aw, cool, i've got jiggly bits. the instructor is brazilian. and what they say about how all brazilian women could be models ... well, i don't know that i know any others, though i'm sure i do and just can't think of them right now ... but so far ... though if you're going to have an excercise instructor i suppose it's good if they're ... toned.

Supposed to get/make a veil for next class, though. maybe a scarf. at least it's barefoot.

Labels: family

it puts the lotion on its skin
or else it gets the hose again.

also, "eucerin" is phenomenally good at dry skin from leftover poison ivy rash - so good that, in fact, i wonder if i'm allowed to be doing this at work. i'm bored. why are you looking at me that way?

the guy who played the serial killer was also in the Manchurian Candidate. The new one. which we saw. and it - i hate the trailer, because it gives the whole thing away, you know? and nothing is surprising if you've seen the trailer and the first movie. i liked it, though. i liked it better than the first one, primarily because (i think) this one i'm here for the premiere, and i'm aware of the whole world situation and the anti-globalization people and the conspiracy theorists and the massive, meddling, asshole companies and the vote counting and i think that makes a difference - i think the first one was released actually during the Cuban Missile Crisis and i'm not really sure why i think this - yes - checking - i'm so smart. but i think the geopolitical type stuff ... i think knowing that, what was going on in the maelstrom that was the world at the time, would have made me like the first one better. Still a smart, tense suspensey flick but i didn't really get it. This one, i got.

Labels: health, media, politics

so why don't, oh, say, smokers have smoking clubs to convince the world that smoking isn't bad for you and that it's all a big government-and-quit-smoking-industry conspiracy? alcoholics could say it's all because of rehab clinics that being a wino is seen as bad. homeless people could fault the Salvation Army. i hope - i just hope that when i'm flying this weekend and next week that i don't have to sit next to some fat fuck who's trying to convince me that no, it really is okay that their ass is taking up half the seat i paid way too much for, because it's empowering them.

and, if obesity and belly stapling are going to be real, Medicare-available things, we should really be pushing preventive medicine, already. Stupid bureaucrats.

Labels: health, politics

aha! the mystery cell phone message sender has revealed himself:
hello, liz?
yes...
hello this is a*
o wow! hi how are you guys?
we're fine how is m?
good :) im at work now i'll give you a call later
ok have a good one

so, since m is going to be fascinated, that was ... oh, hell, i can never remember his last name... a.s., married to b.t., from wherever it was they were from - indonesia? singapore? it's early. i don't remember.

Labels: people

received an interesting message via cell phone:
test
from this area. Specifically, Decatur, TX. But a cell phone could really be anywhere.

replied, two hours later, once it was noticed that this had arrived:
Hello, test
we will see where (if anywhere) this goes. Probably it'll end up being boring.

Labels: people

for me to remember. 'cuz i should exercise more. and there are actually people in college station teaching, now that i've finally googled them. and how cool is that?

that first time i even saw it or so, that was key, at the womens' weekend - thing at poho in high school. there was a skinny little trendy-pretty girl (who was very very nice, and pretty, but pretty in that thin, glamorous, hair-commercial way) and this big, solid Woman (who just rocked in every way possible and could belly-roll, because she had a belly to roll with), and they danced for us, and gave us maybe an hour and a bit of lesson. and there was that single time in college where there was a lesson and i made W go with me and he was the only boy there (but really he didn't do badly at all). and i should exercise more. and i think i'd like it. i know i'd like it, from my two little mini-lessons. all powerful and sexy and thoroughly feminist, but in a celebratory, happy way instead of an angry, fuck-you-'cuz-you-represent-the-patriarchy, twisted, ucky way.

i think i've had a messed-up relationship with f/Feminism for a while now. i took one class in womens' studies - just intro to - that first semester of college with the (angry, f-y-c-y-r-t-p, twisted, ucky) professor (who hated all men, especially the poor guy who was taking the class, and told us more often than really she ought to have done that all hetero sex was rape, all of it, and never mentioned the sort of stiletto-y, modern, Apprentice-brand, Gloria-Steinem-is-a-bombshell-on-top-of-it-all feminism that really i think i like better, and that i had to invent for myself entirely from scratch after the class was over) and i think it ruined me for a while. A long-ish while. and i'm doing my best. but i think i'd have had more to do with the womyns' center on campus if i hadn't had that particular class with that particular bitch.

anyway. i think learning to belly dance properly would be good for me.

Labels: health, politics, texas

i'm astonished as to how mountainous and geographic and three-dimensional my skin is when it's covered in POISON IVY BLISTERS. i'm more defined and more textural than our extra-hilly globe. but that's what it's like, exactly: i have little geographical faults running up and down my arms and over my belly, and sooner or later they're going to split open and need to be moisturized. Again.

Labels: health

*not very factual on motorcycles either

:anmut: :annika: :chin: :dooce: :ewok mama: :food: :little frog school: :lj: :longform: :low odysseys: :natalya: :rich: :salon: :slate: :this is how: :unique yn:



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