I really wanna have a Bob in my blob. Does anyone out there want to be Bob? Anyone who might be mentioned in my blog in the near future who doesn't already have a nickname? Maybe?
Bob.
Thursday, August 05, 2004
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
Love Love Love
Happy Anniversary Muffy & Steph!
Everyone, the second anniversary is apparently cotton (traditional) or china (modern). Let's see what we can do with that.
Everyone, the second anniversary is apparently cotton (traditional) or china (modern). Let's see what we can do with that.
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
Airline
Do y'all ever watch Airline? This show kills me. It's all basically the same stories. People miss flights, people are too drunk to fly, occasionally celebrities pop up and luggage often gets lost. And SouthWest employees occasionally partay partay. Sometimes there are other stories, but these are the main ones. And I can't stop watching (Mom, this is your fault). People's sense of entitlement just kills me. Just kills me. KILLS ME. Ahem.
People get smashed and then don't understand why they can't get on a plane with lots of other people in a very little space. And when they're told they need to sober up before they can fly they go into the bar. Because that's an AWESOME place to sober up. Why do you need to be drunk on a plane anyway? I can sort of see it when it's a Bachelorette Party going to Vegas or something like that. But people just flying alone, getting smashed in the bar, early in the morning.
And I love the folks who miss the plane. Do these people ever leave their home? Lots of times people don't understand why a plane didn't wait until they arrived. Like the gate agents were just supposed to hang out knowing in their hearts that this passenger will arrive. If a plane waits for someone who might be getting on then everyone on the plane will be a little late to their destination, maybe missing their connecting flights. The plane will probably then be late taking off again and going to it's next destination, screwing up a whole long line of trips that this particular plane needs to be taking. It's not like the plane flies from Cleveland to LA and then hangs out for a while resting and all that. It's not a flight crew that needs a pit stop between trips. It's a freakin' plane. Unload it, clean it, fill it up, load it up and send that puppy back out! Also, the jackasses who feel the plane should've waited until they moseyed on up? Let's take a moment to picture how they would react if they were ON a plane that was waiting for a lazy late motherfucker. Yeah. Not pretty.
Once, I was flying to or from college and was stuck in LA. Flying standby at busy times often got me stuck in LA. Or wherever. Well, they boarded the plane, made announcements, made a final boarding annoucement, did a seat count, gave away the empty seats to standby passengers and pulled up the jetway, about five minutes or so before the flight's schedule departure time. Some guy and his family came strolling up to the gate and said that was their flight. The gate agent (politely) said the flight was pretty much gone. (Now, on the show, this is the point where the asshole points at the plane out there and insists it be brought back to the gate, opened up, jetway rolled back out and their asses allowed on - making the flight LATE.) The gate agent was really nice at first and seemed concerned that this family missed the flight. He started trying to get them on another flight, trying somehow to get them to their destination at this point. He was dealing with the situation as it was because that plane wasn't coming back. He also seemed concerned that they missed the flight, trying to find out if they were held up at the ticket counter or security. This was a million years ago before you had to show up three hours early just to make it through security (well, that's how it is in New York now at least). The guy started blustering and trying to blame the gate agent and everyone else in the world saying that he got there BEFORE the departure time. The gate agent pointed out that when tickets are purchased (and on the tickets and everywhere else) customers are told they need to be in the gate area 10 minutes prior to departure time. And he was still trying to figure out why this guy was late since he checked in with plenty of time to get to the gate. Finally the guy just says they were wondering around and he didn't have a watch and wasn't paying attention to the time. Though he might've said it in a much more roundabout way. The gate agent still tried to help the guy get on the next flight and and all but wasn't as interested in pacifing the man's bad attitude at that point. And then the man just went nuts. He started yelling and throwing his giant (too big for a carry-on, really sir) bag around. Then gate agent started threatening to call security. It was an amazing spectacle. And I still don't understand that mindset. Really. You fucked up. You were late. Your flight left. Get on the next one. Yeah, it's a few hours later, but deal.
When I heading to Hawai'i from LA one time, around Christmas, I was checking when (like 3 hours early) and a woman came up to check in for a flight that was due to leave in half an hour. Have you seen the security line at LAX? It made me almost cry. It is a horrible, horrible thing. No way was this girl getting through security in even 45 minutes, let alone 20. Anyway, the ticket agent nicely and matter-of-factly told the girl she had missed her flight for all intents and purposes. Even though it was half an hour before departure time. The girl said she knew and was just running late and wanted to see about getting out as soon after as she could. And I almost wanted to run over and kiss her. She was my superhero for the day. And really, she shouldn't be my superhero because that's how people should act.
Ooooh, and the people who get mad when they are on overbooked flights. As we have all seen (haven't we?), not everyone gets on every flight they're booked for. People miss flights, they change their mind at the last minute, things come up, they get an earlier flight, whatever. If an airline only books as many people as they have seats, they're going to lose serious money. Unless they charge you for the seat as soon as you book it, whether you end up in it or not. No refunds, no changing flights, nada. But can you imagine how Jane Entitlement would feel about that? Let's take another moment, shall we? Yes. Anyway, airlines overbook flights to a certain percentage knowing they'll get no-shows. Often this works fine. Other times too many people actually show up. So those of you who wisely showed up & checked in early get on the flight. Those of you without watches, hanging out in the bars, might not. The airline tries to get people to take a later flight offering upgrades, coupons and sometimes hotel stays. And if people take it, the watch-free drunkards (sorry, cranky at these people right now) get on the flight. If not, well, they get put on other flights and life goes on. There's only so much an airline can do. Well, on the show these folks go crazy as if this is an unheard practice. That they've never seen or heard of such a thing. This revelation usually comes after they announce what frequent flyers they are (My Ass!). A few times on the show I've seen people threaten legal action because a flight was overbooked. Hee. Just kills me. Show up to the airport at least an hour or two ahead (depending upon the airport). Reconfirm your flights. Don't get smashed beyond reason a half hour before you flight. All of these things will lead you to a better flying experience. Unless you're me, in which case you'll be on a delayed flight to hell with 17 screaming children. But I'm special.
Anyway, these people piss me off and I'm going to start hiding smelly things in their bags when I see them in airports now. Grrrrr... And don't even get me started on the luggage losing people. Ugh.
But I can't stop watching. Damn you, Mom. Making me watch the people and get all angry.
People get smashed and then don't understand why they can't get on a plane with lots of other people in a very little space. And when they're told they need to sober up before they can fly they go into the bar. Because that's an AWESOME place to sober up. Why do you need to be drunk on a plane anyway? I can sort of see it when it's a Bachelorette Party going to Vegas or something like that. But people just flying alone, getting smashed in the bar, early in the morning.
And I love the folks who miss the plane. Do these people ever leave their home? Lots of times people don't understand why a plane didn't wait until they arrived. Like the gate agents were just supposed to hang out knowing in their hearts that this passenger will arrive. If a plane waits for someone who might be getting on then everyone on the plane will be a little late to their destination, maybe missing their connecting flights. The plane will probably then be late taking off again and going to it's next destination, screwing up a whole long line of trips that this particular plane needs to be taking. It's not like the plane flies from Cleveland to LA and then hangs out for a while resting and all that. It's not a flight crew that needs a pit stop between trips. It's a freakin' plane. Unload it, clean it, fill it up, load it up and send that puppy back out! Also, the jackasses who feel the plane should've waited until they moseyed on up? Let's take a moment to picture how they would react if they were ON a plane that was waiting for a lazy late motherfucker. Yeah. Not pretty.
Once, I was flying to or from college and was stuck in LA. Flying standby at busy times often got me stuck in LA. Or wherever. Well, they boarded the plane, made announcements, made a final boarding annoucement, did a seat count, gave away the empty seats to standby passengers and pulled up the jetway, about five minutes or so before the flight's schedule departure time. Some guy and his family came strolling up to the gate and said that was their flight. The gate agent (politely) said the flight was pretty much gone. (Now, on the show, this is the point where the asshole points at the plane out there and insists it be brought back to the gate, opened up, jetway rolled back out and their asses allowed on - making the flight LATE.) The gate agent was really nice at first and seemed concerned that this family missed the flight. He started trying to get them on another flight, trying somehow to get them to their destination at this point. He was dealing with the situation as it was because that plane wasn't coming back. He also seemed concerned that they missed the flight, trying to find out if they were held up at the ticket counter or security. This was a million years ago before you had to show up three hours early just to make it through security (well, that's how it is in New York now at least). The guy started blustering and trying to blame the gate agent and everyone else in the world saying that he got there BEFORE the departure time. The gate agent pointed out that when tickets are purchased (and on the tickets and everywhere else) customers are told they need to be in the gate area 10 minutes prior to departure time. And he was still trying to figure out why this guy was late since he checked in with plenty of time to get to the gate. Finally the guy just says they were wondering around and he didn't have a watch and wasn't paying attention to the time. Though he might've said it in a much more roundabout way. The gate agent still tried to help the guy get on the next flight and and all but wasn't as interested in pacifing the man's bad attitude at that point. And then the man just went nuts. He started yelling and throwing his giant (too big for a carry-on, really sir) bag around. Then gate agent started threatening to call security. It was an amazing spectacle. And I still don't understand that mindset. Really. You fucked up. You were late. Your flight left. Get on the next one. Yeah, it's a few hours later, but deal.
When I heading to Hawai'i from LA one time, around Christmas, I was checking when (like 3 hours early) and a woman came up to check in for a flight that was due to leave in half an hour. Have you seen the security line at LAX? It made me almost cry. It is a horrible, horrible thing. No way was this girl getting through security in even 45 minutes, let alone 20. Anyway, the ticket agent nicely and matter-of-factly told the girl she had missed her flight for all intents and purposes. Even though it was half an hour before departure time. The girl said she knew and was just running late and wanted to see about getting out as soon after as she could. And I almost wanted to run over and kiss her. She was my superhero for the day. And really, she shouldn't be my superhero because that's how people should act.
Ooooh, and the people who get mad when they are on overbooked flights. As we have all seen (haven't we?), not everyone gets on every flight they're booked for. People miss flights, they change their mind at the last minute, things come up, they get an earlier flight, whatever. If an airline only books as many people as they have seats, they're going to lose serious money. Unless they charge you for the seat as soon as you book it, whether you end up in it or not. No refunds, no changing flights, nada. But can you imagine how Jane Entitlement would feel about that? Let's take another moment, shall we? Yes. Anyway, airlines overbook flights to a certain percentage knowing they'll get no-shows. Often this works fine. Other times too many people actually show up. So those of you who wisely showed up & checked in early get on the flight. Those of you without watches, hanging out in the bars, might not. The airline tries to get people to take a later flight offering upgrades, coupons and sometimes hotel stays. And if people take it, the watch-free drunkards (sorry, cranky at these people right now) get on the flight. If not, well, they get put on other flights and life goes on. There's only so much an airline can do. Well, on the show these folks go crazy as if this is an unheard practice. That they've never seen or heard of such a thing. This revelation usually comes after they announce what frequent flyers they are (My Ass!). A few times on the show I've seen people threaten legal action because a flight was overbooked. Hee. Just kills me. Show up to the airport at least an hour or two ahead (depending upon the airport). Reconfirm your flights. Don't get smashed beyond reason a half hour before you flight. All of these things will lead you to a better flying experience. Unless you're me, in which case you'll be on a delayed flight to hell with 17 screaming children. But I'm special.
Anyway, these people piss me off and I'm going to start hiding smelly things in their bags when I see them in airports now. Grrrrr... And don't even get me started on the luggage losing people. Ugh.
But I can't stop watching. Damn you, Mom. Making me watch the people and get all angry.
Corporate Threat
Dude. They're putting x-ray machines in our lobby. Well, last time I was down there they'd put one in. By one of our entrances. They weren't using it or anything, but it was there and they were testing it. It's creepy. I don't want to have to run my bag through an x-ray machine every day. They can't really expect that can they? Maybe it's for non-employees only? I don't know. This is all so weird. I hate working for a big financial company right now. It's scaring me a little and I hate that. It kinda makes me want to move to Indiana and see if I can get back my grandpa's store, or move to Hawai'i and work in a surf shop. I don't want an x-ray machine or two or seven in my office building's lobby.
This amuses me though. I like the little elephant icon. So cute. The convention will be interesting if nothing else. I'm debating taking a day off work to protest. I also kinda just want to work from home and avoid it all. I don't know though. Maybe a little of both. I still can't believe they thought having the RNC here in NYC was a good idea.
This amuses me though. I like the little elephant icon. So cute. The convention will be interesting if nothing else. I'm debating taking a day off work to protest. I also kinda just want to work from home and avoid it all. I don't know though. Maybe a little of both. I still can't believe they thought having the RNC here in NYC was a good idea.
Saturday, July 31, 2004
Old Men at McDonalds
I just watched an episode of the Gilmore Girls - first season DVD from Pumpkin, yay - the one where Rory's grandfather takes her to the club to teach her how to play golf and show her off. And it made me miss my grandfather so much. He went to McDonald's every weekday morning. He and his buddies would gather and chat over coffee. They got the senior's discount, less than fifty cents a cup with free refills. Whenever I'd visit I'd go with him. I hated getting up so early to get out there while I was on vacation, but it seemed to mean so much to him that I had to do it. How can you let your grandfather down like that?
He'd always tell them what I was up to and make me discuss some class I was taking (he loved making me tell them about "the gay class" I took at Wesleyan) or mention where I worked. In recent years I'd often be hit up for stock tips or asked if the economy was improving or little things like that. Sometimes they'd ask me about New York or my mom. I'd go for refills for everyone and his friends would say how polite I was and he'd just beam. Sometimes he'd buy me breakfast if I didn't get up in time to have cinnamon raisin toast with him beforehad. And of course he'd give me a hard time about it. I always offered to pay, but he wouldn't hear of it. One of the last times I visited, a rental car screw up ended with me having a bright red truck for the trip. He loved it. Thought it was great and insisted on going everywhere in it, even though it probably wasn't easy for him to get in and out of it. And he pointed it out to all of his friends in McDonald's. His granddaughter was driving a badass truck. It was just such a grandfatherly thing, those trips to McDonald's. And it made me so happy to know that he was proud of me and that he wanted to show me off and talk about me. It's really nice to feel that loved. Especially by someone I loved so much.
I'm so grateful that I got to have those trips to McDonald's with him. I really am. But right now I think I'd give anything to be able to do it again. I hate knowing that I never will.
He'd always tell them what I was up to and make me discuss some class I was taking (he loved making me tell them about "the gay class" I took at Wesleyan) or mention where I worked. In recent years I'd often be hit up for stock tips or asked if the economy was improving or little things like that. Sometimes they'd ask me about New York or my mom. I'd go for refills for everyone and his friends would say how polite I was and he'd just beam. Sometimes he'd buy me breakfast if I didn't get up in time to have cinnamon raisin toast with him beforehad. And of course he'd give me a hard time about it. I always offered to pay, but he wouldn't hear of it. One of the last times I visited, a rental car screw up ended with me having a bright red truck for the trip. He loved it. Thought it was great and insisted on going everywhere in it, even though it probably wasn't easy for him to get in and out of it. And he pointed it out to all of his friends in McDonald's. His granddaughter was driving a badass truck. It was just such a grandfatherly thing, those trips to McDonald's. And it made me so happy to know that he was proud of me and that he wanted to show me off and talk about me. It's really nice to feel that loved. Especially by someone I loved so much.
I'm so grateful that I got to have those trips to McDonald's with him. I really am. But right now I think I'd give anything to be able to do it again. I hate knowing that I never will.
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
ARGH
The latest search leading to my blog is "ended up a spinster". Seriously. The world hates me. I want to go back to being a dirty blog that people found because they wanted to be undressed in front of their auntie or wanted to see topless boys. This spinster thing is pissing me off. Grrrrr....
So, Dad and I want to be on The Amazing Race. Because we are awesome and we would kick ass. And frankly, the way this season is going, they need us. How can you go on a show called The Amazing Race and not have the ability to read a map? I don't understand that. Anyway, they're taking applications, but you have to get a video to them by August 11th. He's in Guam. I'm in New York. It's July 28th. We gotta figure something out. I'm going to try to persuade him to fly to New York for a day so that we can do a video. Seriously, we would be awesome for this show.
He's a little worried though as they just had a military dad/flighty daughter team and they weren't very exciting. And apparently had no idea how airports work. But I think we should downplay that aspect in our application and play up pilot dad more and the whole living together for a couple years thing and some of those funny stories. As well as our DisneyWorld obsession and visits. And we don't have a lot of drama, but I think we can play up some fun stories from when we lived together. Like how he kept trying to make sure I'd get to work on time. It felt as if I was 14 and dawdling on my way to school. So I finally started yelling, "I'm 25 years old. I have been getting myself to work, earning my pay and paying my bills for years now. I think I can continue to do so." Or something to that effect. And for years afterwards he would mess with me by just mumbling, "I'm 25 years old..." Or the fight we had the first time I stayed out all night when we were living together. How he felt I should call if I was going to do that and stuff. I think we can get on.
If we can just get that tape made...
Oh wait. What if they don't take spinsters?!?!?!
So, Dad and I want to be on The Amazing Race. Because we are awesome and we would kick ass. And frankly, the way this season is going, they need us. How can you go on a show called The Amazing Race and not have the ability to read a map? I don't understand that. Anyway, they're taking applications, but you have to get a video to them by August 11th. He's in Guam. I'm in New York. It's July 28th. We gotta figure something out. I'm going to try to persuade him to fly to New York for a day so that we can do a video. Seriously, we would be awesome for this show.
He's a little worried though as they just had a military dad/flighty daughter team and they weren't very exciting. And apparently had no idea how airports work. But I think we should downplay that aspect in our application and play up pilot dad more and the whole living together for a couple years thing and some of those funny stories. As well as our DisneyWorld obsession and visits. And we don't have a lot of drama, but I think we can play up some fun stories from when we lived together. Like how he kept trying to make sure I'd get to work on time. It felt as if I was 14 and dawdling on my way to school. So I finally started yelling, "I'm 25 years old. I have been getting myself to work, earning my pay and paying my bills for years now. I think I can continue to do so." Or something to that effect. And for years afterwards he would mess with me by just mumbling, "I'm 25 years old..." Or the fight we had the first time I stayed out all night when we were living together. How he felt I should call if I was going to do that and stuff. I think we can get on.
If we can just get that tape made...
Oh wait. What if they don't take spinsters?!?!?!
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
Not Possible
Turnip sent me a quiz to take. Apparently she is 23.66864% "geek". I ended up with 30.17751% - "Total Geek". I don't understand how it's possible for me to be even that geeky let alone to be geekier than her. So unfair. I think she must've lied on the quiz.
I Don’t Actually Hate LA (PART II)
Oh, as a little addition to Part I; Turnip was waitlisted at Wesleyan. Heh. No big deal. She wanted Brown anyway. It’s not like she isn’t a smartie. She is. It was just a thing that has nothing to do with anything really. But she and a bunch of her Brown friends were over at a Wesleyan friend of mine’s apartment hanging out with me. And for some reason it came up that all of them (except maybe Turnip’s boyfriend at the time?) had been waitlisted at Wesleyan - but all got into Brown. And they just looked at my friend and I as if they wanted to rumble or something. It was kinda funny. So she and I sorta mock fight about it from time to time. She taunts me about Brown being an Ivy League school while Wesleyan is not and I taunt her about being waitlisted at Wesleyan. We’re both intelligent and fairly secure people so this isn’t as mean as it might sound. Anyway, we were having this little debate in the booth at CSU Los Angeles on Saturday. And the board op asked us where we went to school. And we sheepishly told her. And she was all, ‘I don’t know what y’all are fighting about, those are both good schools.’ And we felt snooty and superior and silly. Which is not unusual for us. Just made me laugh. Sorry.
So, we left off with our heroines asleep in bed. The alarm got us up too early because we had to get pretty in time for 10:30AM brunch. And we were very pretty. In breasty outfits and everything. Boobs for brunch.
On Saturday’s walk to breakfast we started walking past this beautiful building. I asked Turnip what it was and she just started laughing. Then she told me it was the Scientology Celebrity Center in Hollywood. And indeed it was. Indeed. Later in the day she told me she thought they had brunches there. So we looked it up online and indeed they do. Sunday Brunch at the Manor Hotel. I guess The Renaissance Restaurant is a four star restaurant. We KNEW we had to go. A few people expressed interest but only GhettoBoy actually agreed to meet us that morning. Sadly he overslept. But we called him enough times to wake him up and convince him he was worth waiting for. So he came on by and we walked over to the Center.
The building really is beautiful. As are the grounds. Some helpful valets pointed us toward the brunch and we paid and were seated. We ordered juice and coffee but for some reason only GhettoBoy got coffee. Maybe it’s not ladylike in the world of Scientology to drink coffee? Luckily Turnip is forceful and got me my coffee. Then we attacked the buffet. The food was really good. I had decent waffles and cheese and fruit and petit fours and croissant and some different salads and a deviled egg and other such stuff. Sadly the mushroom crepes had chicken in them because they looked good. Ah well.
The area where we were seated was lovely. We were outside on the lawn with the entertainment gazebo. A trio was playing. The singer had effects on her mike and a pedal to work them - so sayeth my tech geek companions. The drummer and keyboardist were just goofy. And they were massacring some really good songs. But it was fun. It looked like there were several regulars who knew the trio and each other and the waiters and hosts and things. We were totally the outsiders. I was seated facing the building and kept spotting people in upper windows. I think Turnip and GhettoBoy doubted me though.
After brunch we headed inside to explore the building a little and to pop by the bookstore. I wanted to see if they had a postcard I could send Mom. I knew she’d be proud. GhettoBoy and Turnip were total chickens though. Silly. The scientologists seemed perfectly nice at that point. But then the trio started destroying Black Velvet and we all ran inside.
The bookstore was tiny and GhettoBoy and Turnip sorta hung out at the entrance. I did no such thing. A very nice man named John who worked there introduced himself and started chatting with me. They did not have postcards but they had lots of Hubbard’s non-fiction. He told me a little about the store and the building and said there were tours available. He also mentioned some enneagram machine they had that could read my thoughts if I wanted to try that. I told him that would be a bad idea and asked where I could get a tour. GhettoBoy and Turnip did NOT stab me at this point. So really, their future pain is now all on their heads and not mine.
John locked up the bookstore and took us to a little office area. A pretty blonde was sitting at a desk and John told us she would give us a tour of the building. They just needed to grab this guy who would watch the desk for her. In the meantime they had us fill out forms. I think my buddies gave fake names and addresses. I gave them my Mom’s. Because I’m a bitch. Just in case you hadn’t picked that up by now. It appears that we didn’t quite measure up in the office because the pretty blonde ended up staying with the desk while a very friendly, but obviously inexperienced (and maybe not so bright?) guy was made our guide. Poor guy. I can’t even remember his name. Bad me.
He took us back towards the bookstore area. And read us a quote in a frame on the wall which I think was, “A culture is only as great as its dreams and its dreams are dreamed by artists.” I’m not entirely certain though. It was something about culture being influenced by art/artists. Then he told us that artists influence all of our culture. For instance the clothes we wear. That’s determined not only by the designers and manufacturers who create the clothing we wear but the celebrities who decide to wear that clothing. Yup. What Paris Hilton wears affects the WORLD. Ahem. Then he asked if we were familiar with Star Trek: the Original Series. We all were. As are you. Of course. He started talking about communicators and tricorders and how they were folded and kept on belts and things and how NOW we have folding cell phones that clip onto our belts and things. ART influencing CULTURE. Turnip was almost losing it the whole time. GhettoBoy and I mastered the smiling and nodding at this point. Which was good.
Our tour guide then talked about how Scientology helps people. Like drug addicts. But mentioned that there wasn’t a way to help the perverts. I think Turnip looked at me at this point, but I’m sure there wasn’t any meaning to that. Right? Yes. Poor perverts. No room at the Scientology Inn.
Then he took us into the bookstore. He kept trying to tell us that Hubbard’s teachings were here but not… um, not the other stuff, the um… This went on for a while until I was able to supply the word FICTION for him. Hubbard’s FICTION was not for sale in the Center’s bookstore. We were off to a promising start. Then, he started to tell us a little about Dianetics. By lecturing to us from the cover of a Dianetics picture book. He didn’t even open the book. Just pointed at things on the cover while talking to us. The Cover. Of a PICTURE BOOK. Just wanted to make sure that was clear.
Now, it seemed like someone tried to explain to him about root words and their meanings but he didn’t quite get it all. If you look on the Celebrity Center site they mention the Greek words dia (through) and nous (soul) in reference to dianetics. We were informed that Dian was through and Etics (yes, etics) meant mind. So Dianetics meant through the mind. Yes, that’s what he told us. I’m trying hard now to not read the site because I don’t want the actual definitions to cloud my retelling of the story. So, after our word lesson he pointed to the drawings on the cover of the picture book. One was of a woman having a skiing accident. The next was the woman walking past a ski store, seeing skis and feeling pain in her elbow. I think the next was her using the enneagram machine. And then the last was her looking all happy. I’m not entirely sure what we were supposed to be getting from all of that. It really wasn’t made clear. As I said, it was like he’d been given the tour lecture a few times but didn’t really grasp it. I think he was trying to get at sense memory and all, but, I just don’t know.
Next we moved to the Scientology picture book cover. Now, according the website scio is Latin for ‘know’ and logos is Greek for “the word or outward form by which the inward thought is expressed and made known.” Yeah. Our guide told us that Scient was truth and Ology was study so Scientology is the study of truth or truth in study. Yeah. He seemed a bit confused over it all and didn’t dwell on scient - ology for very long. Scient. I don’t know. I can’t decide if Scient or Etics is my new favorite word. Maybe we should have a poll!
He then tried to put that personal touch on Scientology. Letting us (a group with very interesting religious theories and backgrounds) know that Scientology wouldn’t interfere with our religious backgrounds. He was raised Christian and that didn’t interfere with his becoming a Scientologist. And his mother-in-law’s family was ‘very into being Jewish’ (the hell?) and are also Scientologists. Next he started blathering about Buddhist Monks who came to visit and study at the center and bring back the ideas and philosophies to their temple. Seriously. I didn’t even know what to say. But that wrapped up our time in the bookstore. Our guide led us out into the hall. GhettoBoy and Turnip tried to hide in the bookstore. GhettoBoy claims he got trapped by John. I don’t believe him. They were hiding in there. But I just had our guide stop while I went back in and got their sorry asses.
So we walked back towards the office and stopped in the lobby area. Lots of fat old men were sleeping in chairs there. It gave it kind of a weird atmosphere. I was all excited at this point because he actually started talking about the pretty building itself. Yay! Once upon a time it was a resort hotel (according to our guide, according to the website it was a luxury hotel/apartment house). The Scientologists bought it and restored it in the 80’s or 90’s, our guide wasn’t clear, and currently use it for classes and weddings and the restaurant and all. I think guests can stay there, but he was very vague about that. He then started talking about movies that had filmed there like 48 Hours and Austin Powers. He kept having a hard time remembering Dr. Evil’s name. I don’t know why. It’s freakin’ Dr. Evil.
That was all very brief. Then he took us over to the elevator. We waited there for an elevator that came but was going down. Then it came but was too full. Then it came back and was again too full. Lots of scientologists with binders bustling around us getting off and on the elevators for class. Anyway, during this time he asked how much time we had to spend there. We said we only had a little while longer (mostly true) and couldn’t stay for the day or anything. GhettoBoy said he had to plan a camping trip with friends. It was the truth, but sounded kinda lame. Turnip and I figured he could’ve lied or joined in on our reason. More fun that way. She and I told him we had to catch a show later. He asked what show and we told him; a techno opera of Paradise Lost. We weren’t even lying. That is indeed where Turnip took me later. He said he thought he’d heard of that before. Well, yes. Paradise Lost is an epic poem of which most high school English students have heard, yes? Maybe? He asked who it was by and we said Milton. He looked at us quizzically and said “Milton Eskowitz?” I don’t know if it was exactly Eskowitz but it was a last name that started with an e and ended with a z and had some kind of hard sound like k in it. And I like Eskowitz. I could probably spell it better though. Not important. We all stared in stunned silence for a minute until someone mentioned that Milton was his last name. And being the brain trust we are it took us a minute to come up with his first name. I like to believe it was the shock that made us forget JOHN. Let’s go with that. Yeah. Finally GhettoBoy asked if there were stairs we could take. Since it didn’t look good for the elevator. He seemed flustered and said he wanted to show us the view of Hollywood from the roof (which sounded awesome) and some other thing. He wouldn’t tell us what this ‘other thing’ was. Seriously. Kept being vague about it. Intentionally vague this time and not just uncertain and unclear.
So, he gave up on the elevator and said he’d show us something else. We started down into the basement. As we approached the stairs our guide started talking about The Count of Monte Crisco. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant The Cask of Amontillado (not sure why), but either way, neither is what you want to be thinking of when a strange man starts taking you to the basement. I, of course, happily followed him down, all excited about my experiences in the Center. According to Turnip later, GhettoBoy sorta balked at the top of the stairs and had to be coaxed down. Hee. Can’t blame the man.
If you take the virtual tour and go into the basement (following a side door off the lobby), you can see what the basement halls look like with awful faux something or other. Faux stone and brick (yes, both) poking through the walls and things like that. I think you were supposed to feel like you were in some quaint European alley and not a basement. And I have no idea why. I think that’s why he was talking about The Count of Monte Crisco but I’m not entirely sure.
He then took us into this theatre in the basement. It was just a dinky little basement theatre. Tiny without much equipment. This is when I learned that I was with two snooty little theatre snobs. Heh. Our guide was all proud of the theatre and was talking about how they have lights and the lights are operated from the booth at the back of the audience. GhettoBoy totally gets bitch face on and says in the haughtiest manner possible, something along the lines of, “We’re familiar with the theater.” Heh. It was awesome. Turnip was looking smug until that point at which I really thought she was going to burst into hysterical laughter. (I’m very proud of you for not doing that, doll.)
Also, during the tour there was a lot of addressing others by name - attempting to give us the feeling that this was one big happy family. This was most obvious in the chatter with the folks who were sitting in the theatre waiting for a class to start. It probably wouldn’t have worked on us anyway, but it was especially bad after our guide tried introducing us to someone at the elevators. The first part of Turnip’s actual name is the same as GhettoBoy’s name, though with a different spelling. My name does not share the same letters or even sounds with either of their names. In our introduction to this fellow scientology family member our guide got GhettoBoy’s name right, gave Turnip’s name a different ending and somehow decided that I had the same name as GhettoBoy. Yeah. We felt loved.
Anyway, after the theatre our guide said he wanted to show us one more thing. Still in the basement. As we walked down the hall he started talking about acid flashbacks and how this place can help with those. I think GhettoBoy was thinking that he liked acid flashbacks and was wondering why you’d want to get rid of them. I may be wrong on that. Then our guide mentioned that the reason people get the DTs (though that’s not what he called them, he just kinda described them) wasn’t because people were craving drugs but because the drugs were still in their system. Just hanging out. Making people feel bad. He also said that was why people had acid flashbacks. The LSD was still hiding in their system. Yes. That’s what he said. Then he started listing drugs. He left off a bunch as GhettoBoy and I compared later. Like X. And Crystal Meth. For shame.
So, then he took us into the exercise room. It looked just like a small hotel exercise room. Some machines, some weights, some towels. Nothing exciting. Apparently anyone can use it. It’s only $5 a day for non-members. And something like $365 for a whole year. He then started talking about the program or process. I can’t remember which word he used, but they both make me happy so I often switch off when telling this tale.
You take a bunch of vitamins. I remember B3 being an important one. Then you come and work out and sweat a lot. Then we went across the hall to the sauna/steam room section. We stood in the main room near the door. And I don’t remember every detail of the lecture because a hot chick in a bikini kept coming in and out of the room. She was way more interesting than our guide. The guide didn’t seem to be checking her out though. Which was odd. But he did keep looking at what Turnip & my breasty shirts were showing. Kinda unnerving. Um, anyway. I’ll do my best to recall everything. Because I think this was really my favorite part. Oh, you can also see the sauna room on the virtual tour as well.
After exercise you take ‘some oils that the body really likes’. No, he did not specify what oils. Just that the body really liked them. And you take them. Then you go and sweat. And if you’re on the program you sweat 3-5 hours a day. And it gets bad stuff out. Like this one guy he knew about. When he was in high school he wrote “I Love Sally” on his chest in sunscreen and then went out and got a sunburn so that you could see the words on the not burned part of his chest. Well, he went through the process with a friend and while they were in the sauna his friend said, “Hey, I thought your wife’s name was Megan?” Apparently the ‘radiation’ was coming out of his body and you could see the words on his chest again. I’m guessing that was the non-‘radiated’ part of his body. Then the guide told us that he’d never done “street drugs” but has had extensive dental surgery. When he does the program his jaw area swells up.
Then he asked us if we were familiar with Ground Zero. I have to say that I really tensed up about this. Not something to get into now, but any mention of 9/11, WTC, Ground Zero, any of that, tends to make me a little sensitive. I’m still really raw about it even after all this time. And I think I was gearing up for a fight if he said anything to upset me. But this was all too dumb to get upset over. Still, I was really unsure of how this was all going to go. But yes, we told him we were ‘familiar’ with Ground Zero. He started talking about the folks who worked there and how they got lots of bad stuff inside of them. I guess breathing in debris from the destruction of two enormous towers isn’t good for you. Go figure. Anyway, they built a facility in New York or Jersey or something so the workers from Ground Zero could go through the process. One guy was going through it and sitting in the sauna with a towel over his shoulders. When he came out and took the towel off it was all purple. Then our guide asked us, “Do you know what rebar is?” I think we almost all lost it then. Yes, we were familiar with rebar. ‘Apparently that’s not good for the body.’ Yes, boys and girls, it’s not good to inhale STEEL. Just so you know. Also, when you do inhale it and then sweat it out, it apparently comes out in purple form. I just have no words. We spent the whole rest of the weekend asking each other if we knew what rebar was. Because it’s fucking funny.
Then he started telling us that once you’ve gone through the program you don’t ever need to do it again. I don’t think it’s what he was trying to say, but what came out was that basically even if you start taking drugs again you still don’t need to go back on the program, it’s just that good. Awesome. He did say that they recommend you kind of take care of yourself and don’t eat at McDonald’s all the time. GhettoBoy agreed that that was good advice for anyone.
At this point we begged to be freed and he walked us quickly outside and around the grounds (very pretty) to the parking lot. He mentioned that there was a free lecture coming up on bad things you shouldn’t put in your body like NutraSweet and the whole NutraSweet conspiracy and we should check it out. And then we fled. We almost made it to the sidewalk without cracking up. I had to ask GhettoBoy what he thought he’d sweat out. He thought it might be ‘black sludge’. Turnip had suggestions on what might be sweated out of me, but they were inappropriate and completely untrue.
I think this program is mentioned on the Scientology site as Narcon and has a bit of a different description than the one our guide gave us. But I like his version best.
It was so awesome I still cannot stand it. I recommend the brunch and tour to anyone living in or visiting LA. It’s an amazing time. With good food too.
I’m now tired and will do Part III later.
So, we left off with our heroines asleep in bed. The alarm got us up too early because we had to get pretty in time for 10:30AM brunch. And we were very pretty. In breasty outfits and everything. Boobs for brunch.
On Saturday’s walk to breakfast we started walking past this beautiful building. I asked Turnip what it was and she just started laughing. Then she told me it was the Scientology Celebrity Center in Hollywood. And indeed it was. Indeed. Later in the day she told me she thought they had brunches there. So we looked it up online and indeed they do. Sunday Brunch at the Manor Hotel. I guess The Renaissance Restaurant is a four star restaurant. We KNEW we had to go. A few people expressed interest but only GhettoBoy actually agreed to meet us that morning. Sadly he overslept. But we called him enough times to wake him up and convince him he was worth waiting for. So he came on by and we walked over to the Center.
The building really is beautiful. As are the grounds. Some helpful valets pointed us toward the brunch and we paid and were seated. We ordered juice and coffee but for some reason only GhettoBoy got coffee. Maybe it’s not ladylike in the world of Scientology to drink coffee? Luckily Turnip is forceful and got me my coffee. Then we attacked the buffet. The food was really good. I had decent waffles and cheese and fruit and petit fours and croissant and some different salads and a deviled egg and other such stuff. Sadly the mushroom crepes had chicken in them because they looked good. Ah well.
The area where we were seated was lovely. We were outside on the lawn with the entertainment gazebo. A trio was playing. The singer had effects on her mike and a pedal to work them - so sayeth my tech geek companions. The drummer and keyboardist were just goofy. And they were massacring some really good songs. But it was fun. It looked like there were several regulars who knew the trio and each other and the waiters and hosts and things. We were totally the outsiders. I was seated facing the building and kept spotting people in upper windows. I think Turnip and GhettoBoy doubted me though.
After brunch we headed inside to explore the building a little and to pop by the bookstore. I wanted to see if they had a postcard I could send Mom. I knew she’d be proud. GhettoBoy and Turnip were total chickens though. Silly. The scientologists seemed perfectly nice at that point. But then the trio started destroying Black Velvet and we all ran inside.
The bookstore was tiny and GhettoBoy and Turnip sorta hung out at the entrance. I did no such thing. A very nice man named John who worked there introduced himself and started chatting with me. They did not have postcards but they had lots of Hubbard’s non-fiction. He told me a little about the store and the building and said there were tours available. He also mentioned some enneagram machine they had that could read my thoughts if I wanted to try that. I told him that would be a bad idea and asked where I could get a tour. GhettoBoy and Turnip did NOT stab me at this point. So really, their future pain is now all on their heads and not mine.
John locked up the bookstore and took us to a little office area. A pretty blonde was sitting at a desk and John told us she would give us a tour of the building. They just needed to grab this guy who would watch the desk for her. In the meantime they had us fill out forms. I think my buddies gave fake names and addresses. I gave them my Mom’s. Because I’m a bitch. Just in case you hadn’t picked that up by now. It appears that we didn’t quite measure up in the office because the pretty blonde ended up staying with the desk while a very friendly, but obviously inexperienced (and maybe not so bright?) guy was made our guide. Poor guy. I can’t even remember his name. Bad me.
He took us back towards the bookstore area. And read us a quote in a frame on the wall which I think was, “A culture is only as great as its dreams and its dreams are dreamed by artists.” I’m not entirely certain though. It was something about culture being influenced by art/artists. Then he told us that artists influence all of our culture. For instance the clothes we wear. That’s determined not only by the designers and manufacturers who create the clothing we wear but the celebrities who decide to wear that clothing. Yup. What Paris Hilton wears affects the WORLD. Ahem. Then he asked if we were familiar with Star Trek: the Original Series. We all were. As are you. Of course. He started talking about communicators and tricorders and how they were folded and kept on belts and things and how NOW we have folding cell phones that clip onto our belts and things. ART influencing CULTURE. Turnip was almost losing it the whole time. GhettoBoy and I mastered the smiling and nodding at this point. Which was good.
Our tour guide then talked about how Scientology helps people. Like drug addicts. But mentioned that there wasn’t a way to help the perverts. I think Turnip looked at me at this point, but I’m sure there wasn’t any meaning to that. Right? Yes. Poor perverts. No room at the Scientology Inn.
Then he took us into the bookstore. He kept trying to tell us that Hubbard’s teachings were here but not… um, not the other stuff, the um… This went on for a while until I was able to supply the word FICTION for him. Hubbard’s FICTION was not for sale in the Center’s bookstore. We were off to a promising start. Then, he started to tell us a little about Dianetics. By lecturing to us from the cover of a Dianetics picture book. He didn’t even open the book. Just pointed at things on the cover while talking to us. The Cover. Of a PICTURE BOOK. Just wanted to make sure that was clear.
Now, it seemed like someone tried to explain to him about root words and their meanings but he didn’t quite get it all. If you look on the Celebrity Center site they mention the Greek words dia (through) and nous (soul) in reference to dianetics. We were informed that Dian was through and Etics (yes, etics) meant mind. So Dianetics meant through the mind. Yes, that’s what he told us. I’m trying hard now to not read the site because I don’t want the actual definitions to cloud my retelling of the story. So, after our word lesson he pointed to the drawings on the cover of the picture book. One was of a woman having a skiing accident. The next was the woman walking past a ski store, seeing skis and feeling pain in her elbow. I think the next was her using the enneagram machine. And then the last was her looking all happy. I’m not entirely sure what we were supposed to be getting from all of that. It really wasn’t made clear. As I said, it was like he’d been given the tour lecture a few times but didn’t really grasp it. I think he was trying to get at sense memory and all, but, I just don’t know.
Next we moved to the Scientology picture book cover. Now, according the website scio is Latin for ‘know’ and logos is Greek for “the word or outward form by which the inward thought is expressed and made known.” Yeah. Our guide told us that Scient was truth and Ology was study so Scientology is the study of truth or truth in study. Yeah. He seemed a bit confused over it all and didn’t dwell on scient - ology for very long. Scient. I don’t know. I can’t decide if Scient or Etics is my new favorite word. Maybe we should have a poll!
He then tried to put that personal touch on Scientology. Letting us (a group with very interesting religious theories and backgrounds) know that Scientology wouldn’t interfere with our religious backgrounds. He was raised Christian and that didn’t interfere with his becoming a Scientologist. And his mother-in-law’s family was ‘very into being Jewish’ (the hell?) and are also Scientologists. Next he started blathering about Buddhist Monks who came to visit and study at the center and bring back the ideas and philosophies to their temple. Seriously. I didn’t even know what to say. But that wrapped up our time in the bookstore. Our guide led us out into the hall. GhettoBoy and Turnip tried to hide in the bookstore. GhettoBoy claims he got trapped by John. I don’t believe him. They were hiding in there. But I just had our guide stop while I went back in and got their sorry asses.
So we walked back towards the office and stopped in the lobby area. Lots of fat old men were sleeping in chairs there. It gave it kind of a weird atmosphere. I was all excited at this point because he actually started talking about the pretty building itself. Yay! Once upon a time it was a resort hotel (according to our guide, according to the website it was a luxury hotel/apartment house). The Scientologists bought it and restored it in the 80’s or 90’s, our guide wasn’t clear, and currently use it for classes and weddings and the restaurant and all. I think guests can stay there, but he was very vague about that. He then started talking about movies that had filmed there like 48 Hours and Austin Powers. He kept having a hard time remembering Dr. Evil’s name. I don’t know why. It’s freakin’ Dr. Evil.
That was all very brief. Then he took us over to the elevator. We waited there for an elevator that came but was going down. Then it came but was too full. Then it came back and was again too full. Lots of scientologists with binders bustling around us getting off and on the elevators for class. Anyway, during this time he asked how much time we had to spend there. We said we only had a little while longer (mostly true) and couldn’t stay for the day or anything. GhettoBoy said he had to plan a camping trip with friends. It was the truth, but sounded kinda lame. Turnip and I figured he could’ve lied or joined in on our reason. More fun that way. She and I told him we had to catch a show later. He asked what show and we told him; a techno opera of Paradise Lost. We weren’t even lying. That is indeed where Turnip took me later. He said he thought he’d heard of that before. Well, yes. Paradise Lost is an epic poem of which most high school English students have heard, yes? Maybe? He asked who it was by and we said Milton. He looked at us quizzically and said “Milton Eskowitz?” I don’t know if it was exactly Eskowitz but it was a last name that started with an e and ended with a z and had some kind of hard sound like k in it. And I like Eskowitz. I could probably spell it better though. Not important. We all stared in stunned silence for a minute until someone mentioned that Milton was his last name. And being the brain trust we are it took us a minute to come up with his first name. I like to believe it was the shock that made us forget JOHN. Let’s go with that. Yeah. Finally GhettoBoy asked if there were stairs we could take. Since it didn’t look good for the elevator. He seemed flustered and said he wanted to show us the view of Hollywood from the roof (which sounded awesome) and some other thing. He wouldn’t tell us what this ‘other thing’ was. Seriously. Kept being vague about it. Intentionally vague this time and not just uncertain and unclear.
So, he gave up on the elevator and said he’d show us something else. We started down into the basement. As we approached the stairs our guide started talking about The Count of Monte Crisco. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant The Cask of Amontillado (not sure why), but either way, neither is what you want to be thinking of when a strange man starts taking you to the basement. I, of course, happily followed him down, all excited about my experiences in the Center. According to Turnip later, GhettoBoy sorta balked at the top of the stairs and had to be coaxed down. Hee. Can’t blame the man.
If you take the virtual tour and go into the basement (following a side door off the lobby), you can see what the basement halls look like with awful faux something or other. Faux stone and brick (yes, both) poking through the walls and things like that. I think you were supposed to feel like you were in some quaint European alley and not a basement. And I have no idea why. I think that’s why he was talking about The Count of Monte Crisco but I’m not entirely sure.
He then took us into this theatre in the basement. It was just a dinky little basement theatre. Tiny without much equipment. This is when I learned that I was with two snooty little theatre snobs. Heh. Our guide was all proud of the theatre and was talking about how they have lights and the lights are operated from the booth at the back of the audience. GhettoBoy totally gets bitch face on and says in the haughtiest manner possible, something along the lines of, “We’re familiar with the theater.” Heh. It was awesome. Turnip was looking smug until that point at which I really thought she was going to burst into hysterical laughter. (I’m very proud of you for not doing that, doll.)
Also, during the tour there was a lot of addressing others by name - attempting to give us the feeling that this was one big happy family. This was most obvious in the chatter with the folks who were sitting in the theatre waiting for a class to start. It probably wouldn’t have worked on us anyway, but it was especially bad after our guide tried introducing us to someone at the elevators. The first part of Turnip’s actual name is the same as GhettoBoy’s name, though with a different spelling. My name does not share the same letters or even sounds with either of their names. In our introduction to this fellow scientology family member our guide got GhettoBoy’s name right, gave Turnip’s name a different ending and somehow decided that I had the same name as GhettoBoy. Yeah. We felt loved.
Anyway, after the theatre our guide said he wanted to show us one more thing. Still in the basement. As we walked down the hall he started talking about acid flashbacks and how this place can help with those. I think GhettoBoy was thinking that he liked acid flashbacks and was wondering why you’d want to get rid of them. I may be wrong on that. Then our guide mentioned that the reason people get the DTs (though that’s not what he called them, he just kinda described them) wasn’t because people were craving drugs but because the drugs were still in their system. Just hanging out. Making people feel bad. He also said that was why people had acid flashbacks. The LSD was still hiding in their system. Yes. That’s what he said. Then he started listing drugs. He left off a bunch as GhettoBoy and I compared later. Like X. And Crystal Meth. For shame.
So, then he took us into the exercise room. It looked just like a small hotel exercise room. Some machines, some weights, some towels. Nothing exciting. Apparently anyone can use it. It’s only $5 a day for non-members. And something like $365 for a whole year. He then started talking about the program or process. I can’t remember which word he used, but they both make me happy so I often switch off when telling this tale.
You take a bunch of vitamins. I remember B3 being an important one. Then you come and work out and sweat a lot. Then we went across the hall to the sauna/steam room section. We stood in the main room near the door. And I don’t remember every detail of the lecture because a hot chick in a bikini kept coming in and out of the room. She was way more interesting than our guide. The guide didn’t seem to be checking her out though. Which was odd. But he did keep looking at what Turnip & my breasty shirts were showing. Kinda unnerving. Um, anyway. I’ll do my best to recall everything. Because I think this was really my favorite part. Oh, you can also see the sauna room on the virtual tour as well.
After exercise you take ‘some oils that the body really likes’. No, he did not specify what oils. Just that the body really liked them. And you take them. Then you go and sweat. And if you’re on the program you sweat 3-5 hours a day. And it gets bad stuff out. Like this one guy he knew about. When he was in high school he wrote “I Love Sally” on his chest in sunscreen and then went out and got a sunburn so that you could see the words on the not burned part of his chest. Well, he went through the process with a friend and while they were in the sauna his friend said, “Hey, I thought your wife’s name was Megan?” Apparently the ‘radiation’ was coming out of his body and you could see the words on his chest again. I’m guessing that was the non-‘radiated’ part of his body. Then the guide told us that he’d never done “street drugs” but has had extensive dental surgery. When he does the program his jaw area swells up.
Then he asked us if we were familiar with Ground Zero. I have to say that I really tensed up about this. Not something to get into now, but any mention of 9/11, WTC, Ground Zero, any of that, tends to make me a little sensitive. I’m still really raw about it even after all this time. And I think I was gearing up for a fight if he said anything to upset me. But this was all too dumb to get upset over. Still, I was really unsure of how this was all going to go. But yes, we told him we were ‘familiar’ with Ground Zero. He started talking about the folks who worked there and how they got lots of bad stuff inside of them. I guess breathing in debris from the destruction of two enormous towers isn’t good for you. Go figure. Anyway, they built a facility in New York or Jersey or something so the workers from Ground Zero could go through the process. One guy was going through it and sitting in the sauna with a towel over his shoulders. When he came out and took the towel off it was all purple. Then our guide asked us, “Do you know what rebar is?” I think we almost all lost it then. Yes, we were familiar with rebar. ‘Apparently that’s not good for the body.’ Yes, boys and girls, it’s not good to inhale STEEL. Just so you know. Also, when you do inhale it and then sweat it out, it apparently comes out in purple form. I just have no words. We spent the whole rest of the weekend asking each other if we knew what rebar was. Because it’s fucking funny.
Then he started telling us that once you’ve gone through the program you don’t ever need to do it again. I don’t think it’s what he was trying to say, but what came out was that basically even if you start taking drugs again you still don’t need to go back on the program, it’s just that good. Awesome. He did say that they recommend you kind of take care of yourself and don’t eat at McDonald’s all the time. GhettoBoy agreed that that was good advice for anyone.
At this point we begged to be freed and he walked us quickly outside and around the grounds (very pretty) to the parking lot. He mentioned that there was a free lecture coming up on bad things you shouldn’t put in your body like NutraSweet and the whole NutraSweet conspiracy and we should check it out. And then we fled. We almost made it to the sidewalk without cracking up. I had to ask GhettoBoy what he thought he’d sweat out. He thought it might be ‘black sludge’. Turnip had suggestions on what might be sweated out of me, but they were inappropriate and completely untrue.
I think this program is mentioned on the Scientology site as Narcon and has a bit of a different description than the one our guide gave us. But I like his version best.
It was so awesome I still cannot stand it. I recommend the brunch and tour to anyone living in or visiting LA. It’s an amazing time. With good food too.
I’m now tired and will do Part III later.
Monday, July 26, 2004
A biter
So, over the past few years my mother has been working on a kind of archiving project. I think it started a few years ago with old journals from great-grandparents and grandparents and such. She's just been typing in journals, scanning documents, scanning photographs and all kinds of things. I've been getting some fun CDs out of it with family photos. And for Christmas I got a CD of 1800 photos of Amanda. Heh. I have a sign up list for copies. But it might be a while. I'm lazy.
Lately she's found some old calendars that she used to use as daily journals of sorts. Which is where the toilet training thing came from earlier today. And tonight she told me a tale of when I was two. Apparently I was in a bit of an argument with a friend, got frustrated and bit her. So she pushed me in the pool. It seems I bit people a lot. I even had a spot. I liked biting on the forearm. I worry about me sometimes. I do.
Lately she's found some old calendars that she used to use as daily journals of sorts. Which is where the toilet training thing came from earlier today. And tonight she told me a tale of when I was two. Apparently I was in a bit of an argument with a friend, got frustrated and bit her. So she pushed me in the pool. It seems I bit people a lot. I even had a spot. I liked biting on the forearm. I worry about me sometimes. I do.
Muffalicious
Saw lots of Muffy this weekend.
(Yes, Turnip, I know you are waiting on Part II of the LA entry, but I'm so behind on weekend fun entries - LA, Boston, Lesbian Pagan Wedding - that I just can't get further behind. So I'm going to blab about weekends and regular things and just catch up on the big trip entries as best I can. Of course, you could write the rest of the LA blogs. Don't y'all want to see what Turnip has to say?)
I dragged her out to an IT work party Friday night. One of our floor support guys got a bit of a promotion (no additional money yet) and Friday was his last day. So drinks at Lincoln Park Grill. At first she tried to beg out of it because she didn't want to drink with Economists. I totally can't blame her, but these weren't Economist geeks, these were IT geeks. Totally different breed. But there are some similarities. We actually had fun. Well, I did. And she seemed to be having fun. She, Sheena and I were the only girls and only non-IT folks. Lots of testosterone going on and lots of butt grabbing and nipple tweaking for reasons I couldn't quite understand. None of our butts were grabbed or nipples tweaked though. And I even was wearing a breasty shirt and didn't get scoped by anyone other than Muffy. Which doesn't do me a whole lotta good.
Then this one annoying guy got more vocal and more annoying and we decided to bolt. He was going on about how it's gayer to take it than give it. So offensive and dumb. Muffy missed that while on a pre-subway potty break. And I apparently missed an offensive and dumb blow-job joke while on my own pre-subway potty break. Lovely eh?
So we trained home, got caught in a monsoon on the walk to my place and then ended up just scrapping the umbrellas and dancing in the rain on the way back to her place. And it was pretty awesome. Some strange guy on the street thought it was excellent and told us it was a date we'd always remember. We weren't sure if he thought we were on a date or if he meant it would just be a day we'd always remember. Anyway, we got home, dried off a little and changed a little just in time for Steph to come home from studying to have missed it all. Heh. He was tired and grumpy and eating dinner. He went off to study and sleep while we watched 9 to 5 and were in Heaven. Well, I was in heaven. Muffy kept wondering if Mr. Hart was going to get his in the end and all.
Saturday Muffy and I wandered around Red Hook going off for a lovely little walk. We explored the area down by the water where they're trying to fancy things up and had a good time. I also learned that not only does Muffy have a bit of a bridge fetish but she digs tunnels and toll plazas too. Interesting woman. It was nice. But exhausting. And yet necessary after the vodka and pizza and fries from the night before. Ugh.
Then it was showering and vegging in front of Celebrity Poker Showdown before adventuring out with Muffy and Steph to Crave, a place we haven't yet been to in the 'hood. Muffy got all pretty for us, which was sweet. I did not do the same because I'm a lazy bum. Dinner was good though they kept being out of things we really wanted like the corn soup and fried bananas for me and the eel flan for the duck breast for Steph. Alas. We skipped dessert there and headed to Sweet Melissa's for dessert items. Then off to their place for games. They tried to teach me this dice game a friend taught them. It's called Mexico and it's all about the lying. I didn't love it like they did. I think whiskey helps with the loving. So we played inappropriate Hello Kitty Uno instead. I won. Because I am awesome. Good times.
Sunday I was a slug. And I loved it. But tonight I must pay the price by coming home to an icky apartment.
(Yes, Turnip, I know you are waiting on Part II of the LA entry, but I'm so behind on weekend fun entries - LA, Boston, Lesbian Pagan Wedding - that I just can't get further behind. So I'm going to blab about weekends and regular things and just catch up on the big trip entries as best I can. Of course, you could write the rest of the LA blogs. Don't y'all want to see what Turnip has to say?)
I dragged her out to an IT work party Friday night. One of our floor support guys got a bit of a promotion (no additional money yet) and Friday was his last day. So drinks at Lincoln Park Grill. At first she tried to beg out of it because she didn't want to drink with Economists. I totally can't blame her, but these weren't Economist geeks, these were IT geeks. Totally different breed. But there are some similarities. We actually had fun. Well, I did. And she seemed to be having fun. She, Sheena and I were the only girls and only non-IT folks. Lots of testosterone going on and lots of butt grabbing and nipple tweaking for reasons I couldn't quite understand. None of our butts were grabbed or nipples tweaked though. And I even was wearing a breasty shirt and didn't get scoped by anyone other than Muffy. Which doesn't do me a whole lotta good.
Then this one annoying guy got more vocal and more annoying and we decided to bolt. He was going on about how it's gayer to take it than give it. So offensive and dumb. Muffy missed that while on a pre-subway potty break. And I apparently missed an offensive and dumb blow-job joke while on my own pre-subway potty break. Lovely eh?
So we trained home, got caught in a monsoon on the walk to my place and then ended up just scrapping the umbrellas and dancing in the rain on the way back to her place. And it was pretty awesome. Some strange guy on the street thought it was excellent and told us it was a date we'd always remember. We weren't sure if he thought we were on a date or if he meant it would just be a day we'd always remember. Anyway, we got home, dried off a little and changed a little just in time for Steph to come home from studying to have missed it all. Heh. He was tired and grumpy and eating dinner. He went off to study and sleep while we watched 9 to 5 and were in Heaven. Well, I was in heaven. Muffy kept wondering if Mr. Hart was going to get his in the end and all.
Saturday Muffy and I wandered around Red Hook going off for a lovely little walk. We explored the area down by the water where they're trying to fancy things up and had a good time. I also learned that not only does Muffy have a bit of a bridge fetish but she digs tunnels and toll plazas too. Interesting woman. It was nice. But exhausting. And yet necessary after the vodka and pizza and fries from the night before. Ugh.
Then it was showering and vegging in front of Celebrity Poker Showdown before adventuring out with Muffy and Steph to Crave, a place we haven't yet been to in the 'hood. Muffy got all pretty for us, which was sweet. I did not do the same because I'm a lazy bum. Dinner was good though they kept being out of things we really wanted like the corn soup and fried bananas for me and the eel flan for the duck breast for Steph. Alas. We skipped dessert there and headed to Sweet Melissa's for dessert items. Then off to their place for games. They tried to teach me this dice game a friend taught them. It's called Mexico and it's all about the lying. I didn't love it like they did. I think whiskey helps with the loving. So we played inappropriate Hello Kitty Uno instead. I won. Because I am awesome. Good times.
Sunday I was a slug. And I loved it. But tonight I must pay the price by coming home to an icky apartment.
Conversation with Mom
Mom: Did you know that you were potty trained on Feb 27, 1976?
Amanda: I did not know that.
Amanda: It just took me one day?
Mom: Yup. I used a book called Toilet Training in less than a day! And it worked. At 20 months. You are such an over-achiever!
Amanda: Uh-huh. Such a brainiac, that's me
Amanda: I did not know that.
Amanda: It just took me one day?
Mom: Yup. I used a book called Toilet Training in less than a day! And it worked. At 20 months. You are such an over-achiever!
Amanda: Uh-huh. Such a brainiac, that's me
Latest Blog Search
This weekend someone popped in here searching for 'chicas in thong'. Yes, thong and not thongs. Chicas in thong. The hell? I don't know. I just don't know.
Fucking Fuzzy Happy Bunny Flowers DAMMIT!!!!!!!!!
So, last night I stayed up until 2AM watching Center Stage for no real reason. Just because it's the second greatest movie of 2000. Then this morning I was listening to the soundtrack on my iPod on the way to work. And I was having a little Center Stage dance-off in my head. Seriously. Am I as weird as I think I am? I fear I might be. Is it okay to be this strange? I totally won the dance-off, by the way. And apparently I can now do cool back bend things in my own mind. And I was wearing a darling outfit. And weighed about 120 pounds less than I do outside of my mind. Heh. Now I'm listening to Disney Mania 1. Yes, yes I am. Bite me. Christina Aguilera is singing Reflection now. Just so you know.
Fun Quote from Turnip - "You are assuming there are straight male dancers. I think they are like the unicorn, a lovely fantasy."
Fucking Fuzzy Happy Bunny Flowers DAMMIT!!!!!!!!!
So, last night I stayed up until 2AM watching Center Stage for no real reason. Just because it's the second greatest movie of 2000. Then this morning I was listening to the soundtrack on my iPod on the way to work. And I was having a little Center Stage dance-off in my head. Seriously. Am I as weird as I think I am? I fear I might be. Is it okay to be this strange? I totally won the dance-off, by the way. And apparently I can now do cool back bend things in my own mind. And I was wearing a darling outfit. And weighed about 120 pounds less than I do outside of my mind. Heh. Now I'm listening to Disney Mania 1. Yes, yes I am. Bite me. Christina Aguilera is singing Reflection now. Just so you know.
Fun Quote from Turnip - "You are assuming there are straight male dancers. I think they are like the unicorn, a lovely fantasy."
Friday, July 23, 2004
I Don’t Actually Hate LA (Part I)
Getting to LA was not a fun time. But being in LA was awesome. Lots of delays for my flight out Friday night. I was getting very cranky and Turnip can back this up. Because I was on the phone harassing her about it as much as possible. I think I upset some of the folks around me while demanding hookers and blow for my troubles. Ah well. A very delayed flight, shitty seat partner and FOUR screaming children, really loud men behind me, and Havana Nights as my in flight movie option late at night just puts me in a bad mood. What can I say? I think hookers & blow isn’t too much to ask for all my pain and suffering. And I actually WATCHED Havana Nights. So bad. Not even decent eye candy really. They even dowdied up Sela Ward a little. Which is wrong. She’s so pretty.
Sadly Turnip did not have any trashy goodies for me upon my arrival. She did pick me up at the airport though and had flowers and a Powerpuff Girls balloon for me because she is the cutest, sweetest thing ever. Sadly I left them there when I went back to New York. I keep waiting for her to deflate the balloon and mail it to me, but it hasn’t happened yet.
We found parking far from her home and trudged off with my luggage, stopping to check out the massive, brightly-lit Jesus statue behind her building. Apparently she lives right next to a monastery. All kinds of wrong with that, but she likes the place so what can I say. We plotted a little about how to get Ed’s Shirt on the Jesus and headed into her place. A quick hello to the kitties and some girly gossip and then off to sleep. Wild times - ba-by. But what can you do without hookers and blow? Really?
Saturday we slept in a little and then were up to shower and get pretty. Because we like to be pretty. Don’t judge us. Then Turnip made me go out in the middle of her street. She wouldn’t tell me why and I was a little suspicious. I didn’t think I was that much of a pain the night before but I really did wonder if she was trying to get me hit by a car. Turns out she lives on one of the streets the tourists hit for a good view of the Hollywood sign. Woo. So we checked that baby out and got some photos (which might make it online someday). Then headed for breakfast at a diner type place. I was warned not to order bagels. Like I even needed that bit of advice. Actually, over the course of the weekend people kept telling me that there WERE good bagels in LA and listing all sorts of places to get them. Whatever. I did NOT eat bagels in LA. Sorry.
After we were pretty and well-fed we went to hit the shops on Melrose. I think Turnip thinks if I don’t purchase a pair of shoes while visiting her I won’t come back. She’s wrong, but don’t tell her. I really dig the shoe shopping. And we did both find an adorable pair of red shoes. Luckily they had two pair. Yay. So we got those and matching purses for Vegas. Purses that matched each other. They don’t match the shoes. The shoes are red and the purses are black and pink. Got one for Pumpkin as well. Muffy can stand off to the side rolling her eyes and stuff. Or borrow one of Turnip or Pumpkin’s purses since they all share the same first initial. They only had two of that initial. My bag has an M on it for Manda. They didn’t have any As. What’s a girl to do. I also got two other purses while Turnip only got one. And this was all in the first freakin’ store. More shopping - mostly of the window variety after that. Bought a lot of cheap fabulous jewelry at one place with a friendly guy. He was also from Brooklyn and gave me a very pretty bag for all my stuff. Bitter Turnip was jealous. Heh. Take that LA Girl!
Um, sorry.
We also searched high and low for a yellow outfit for Tangerine’s upcoming wedding. It’s a pagan wedding. I’m East. I have to wear yellow. We had very poor luck. We did see a yellow petticoat thing we almost got, but then thought it might be frowned upon. It was really sheer and I thought it might be a little too small. We did find a lot of yellow shoes though. But not yellow clothes. Odd. Then we had drinks at the Coffee Bean (my first Coffee Bean ever) and let Ed’s Shirt out for a photo. Eventually we had to stop to make Turnip’s show. I was sad to leave the shopping. But it had to be done.
Turnip is a sassy lighting designer. We did lots of shows together in high school. It’s really how we met. And we went to college fairly near each other (Wesleyan and Brown) but I somehow had never seen one of the shows she designed. Which is tragic and wrong. I’ve seen photos of shows she’s done. But that’s not the same thing. Really. So I was very excited at the prospect of finally seeing her work this weekend.
We headed to CSU Los Angeles and kinda wandered around the theatre. Turnip introduced me to everyone, showed me around, dragged me to the booth and then sat me down while she had to boss people around. Basically she got stuck stage managing the show so she had to tell the running crew what to do. One of them was named Amanda which made me batty. She’d get this authoritative tone going and bellow for “Amanda” and I’d be all, “yes ma’am, what?”. Apparently I’m Manda and the running crew gal was Amanda. How silly of me not to know that. So there was bossing and sitting and Chinese food and whatnot. Then I was sent out to listen to one of the more inane conversations of my life. Well, I was sent out to sit in the audience and watch the show. The eavesdropping was a little bonus.
The pair behind me were reading the program and trying to figure out what pieces their friend was in. The whole company was in everything except one piece which only showcased the choreographer/leader. They didn’t really seem to grasp this until the show was over. Then the woman kept explaining to the man that premiere meant ‘first time, first, premiere, first time, this is the first time they’re doing this, it’s the first, because premiere means first’. Ugh. Seriously, this went on for like a minute or two. So unnecessary. These were college students. Come on. Then they started discussing the Chronicles of Riddick - a movie I have not seen. It was pretty sad film commentary at first, but whatever. Then the woman said there wasn’t enough Judy in it. (And I know her name is Judi but you just KNOW this girl was thinking Judy in her mind, she was!) She thought there would be more Judy from the previews. And the guy went along with it for a minute but finally had to ask who Judy was. She said; “You know, from James Bond?” I wept. And text messaged Turnip all about my pain. And wept some more. Brilliant, beautiful, gifted actress whose career can apparently be summed up with, “You know, from James Bond?” Judi, I am so sorry.
Anyway. The show was okay. I’m not a fan of modern dance. There were moments here and there that I kinda liked, but I did not like the show overall. I found myself thinking about it all too much. In the second piece there was a piece of the set that never got used and that threw me off. And then there was one piece with topless girls. But you couldn’t really tell they were topless. So it wasn’t really much of a statement or costuming choice. And all the dancers kept throwing themselves to the ground. Every now and then there would be a beautifully executed move, but more often there wasn’t. I don’t know. I’m not a dance critic. But Turnip’s lights were lovely. So go Turnip. I’m really glad I got to see it. Now she’s got to bring that one show with the hot boys in it to New York so I can see more of her lighting. And, um, the hot boys.
Then it was strike. And I even got to help a little bit. Not that I think I really saved us any time or anything but it was better than sitting in the green room feeling useless. The dancers were all very nice and kept asking me about New York. And I got to meet some of the folks I’d heard stories about. Heh. But mostly I just wanted to get out of there to begin the drinking. Which we did. Eventually.
Turnip took me to the Cat & Fiddle which is apparently her version of the Stoned Crow. This was my second time there in as many trips to LA. It’s not a bad place. Decent drinks and fries and a large patio area. It was packed when we got there so we grabbed drinks at the bar then wandered back out to get a table on the patio. I hadn’t eaten and wanted dinner. Turnip’s friend GhettoBoy showed up and not long after my friend BeerGuy showed up. Then more people kept coming in. Lots of friends of Turnip’s that I didn’t get to chat with. Ponytail and Goofy did wear Ed’s Shirt though. As well as GhettoBoy. Mostly I ate my veggie burger, drank my vodka tonics and chatted with BeerGuy, GhettoBoy and Turnip. And it was a lovely, lovely night. We finally left at about 2 when they kicked us out. Because LA SUCKS that way. Of course New York might start to suck that way if Bloomberg has anything to say about it. SUCKS!!!! Um, yeah. So… Then Turnip and I headed home to giggle, play with the kitties and eventually get to sleep. We had a big day head of us. Heh. Hee hee hee hee hee hee hee.
Sadly Turnip did not have any trashy goodies for me upon my arrival. She did pick me up at the airport though and had flowers and a Powerpuff Girls balloon for me because she is the cutest, sweetest thing ever. Sadly I left them there when I went back to New York. I keep waiting for her to deflate the balloon and mail it to me, but it hasn’t happened yet.
We found parking far from her home and trudged off with my luggage, stopping to check out the massive, brightly-lit Jesus statue behind her building. Apparently she lives right next to a monastery. All kinds of wrong with that, but she likes the place so what can I say. We plotted a little about how to get Ed’s Shirt on the Jesus and headed into her place. A quick hello to the kitties and some girly gossip and then off to sleep. Wild times - ba-by. But what can you do without hookers and blow? Really?
Saturday we slept in a little and then were up to shower and get pretty. Because we like to be pretty. Don’t judge us. Then Turnip made me go out in the middle of her street. She wouldn’t tell me why and I was a little suspicious. I didn’t think I was that much of a pain the night before but I really did wonder if she was trying to get me hit by a car. Turns out she lives on one of the streets the tourists hit for a good view of the Hollywood sign. Woo. So we checked that baby out and got some photos (which might make it online someday). Then headed for breakfast at a diner type place. I was warned not to order bagels. Like I even needed that bit of advice. Actually, over the course of the weekend people kept telling me that there WERE good bagels in LA and listing all sorts of places to get them. Whatever. I did NOT eat bagels in LA. Sorry.
After we were pretty and well-fed we went to hit the shops on Melrose. I think Turnip thinks if I don’t purchase a pair of shoes while visiting her I won’t come back. She’s wrong, but don’t tell her. I really dig the shoe shopping. And we did both find an adorable pair of red shoes. Luckily they had two pair. Yay. So we got those and matching purses for Vegas. Purses that matched each other. They don’t match the shoes. The shoes are red and the purses are black and pink. Got one for Pumpkin as well. Muffy can stand off to the side rolling her eyes and stuff. Or borrow one of Turnip or Pumpkin’s purses since they all share the same first initial. They only had two of that initial. My bag has an M on it for Manda. They didn’t have any As. What’s a girl to do. I also got two other purses while Turnip only got one. And this was all in the first freakin’ store. More shopping - mostly of the window variety after that. Bought a lot of cheap fabulous jewelry at one place with a friendly guy. He was also from Brooklyn and gave me a very pretty bag for all my stuff. Bitter Turnip was jealous. Heh. Take that LA Girl!
Um, sorry.
We also searched high and low for a yellow outfit for Tangerine’s upcoming wedding. It’s a pagan wedding. I’m East. I have to wear yellow. We had very poor luck. We did see a yellow petticoat thing we almost got, but then thought it might be frowned upon. It was really sheer and I thought it might be a little too small. We did find a lot of yellow shoes though. But not yellow clothes. Odd. Then we had drinks at the Coffee Bean (my first Coffee Bean ever) and let Ed’s Shirt out for a photo. Eventually we had to stop to make Turnip’s show. I was sad to leave the shopping. But it had to be done.
Turnip is a sassy lighting designer. We did lots of shows together in high school. It’s really how we met. And we went to college fairly near each other (Wesleyan and Brown) but I somehow had never seen one of the shows she designed. Which is tragic and wrong. I’ve seen photos of shows she’s done. But that’s not the same thing. Really. So I was very excited at the prospect of finally seeing her work this weekend.
We headed to CSU Los Angeles and kinda wandered around the theatre. Turnip introduced me to everyone, showed me around, dragged me to the booth and then sat me down while she had to boss people around. Basically she got stuck stage managing the show so she had to tell the running crew what to do. One of them was named Amanda which made me batty. She’d get this authoritative tone going and bellow for “Amanda” and I’d be all, “yes ma’am, what?”. Apparently I’m Manda and the running crew gal was Amanda. How silly of me not to know that. So there was bossing and sitting and Chinese food and whatnot. Then I was sent out to listen to one of the more inane conversations of my life. Well, I was sent out to sit in the audience and watch the show. The eavesdropping was a little bonus.
The pair behind me were reading the program and trying to figure out what pieces their friend was in. The whole company was in everything except one piece which only showcased the choreographer/leader. They didn’t really seem to grasp this until the show was over. Then the woman kept explaining to the man that premiere meant ‘first time, first, premiere, first time, this is the first time they’re doing this, it’s the first, because premiere means first’. Ugh. Seriously, this went on for like a minute or two. So unnecessary. These were college students. Come on. Then they started discussing the Chronicles of Riddick - a movie I have not seen. It was pretty sad film commentary at first, but whatever. Then the woman said there wasn’t enough Judy in it. (And I know her name is Judi but you just KNOW this girl was thinking Judy in her mind, she was!) She thought there would be more Judy from the previews. And the guy went along with it for a minute but finally had to ask who Judy was. She said; “You know, from James Bond?” I wept. And text messaged Turnip all about my pain. And wept some more. Brilliant, beautiful, gifted actress whose career can apparently be summed up with, “You know, from James Bond?” Judi, I am so sorry.
Anyway. The show was okay. I’m not a fan of modern dance. There were moments here and there that I kinda liked, but I did not like the show overall. I found myself thinking about it all too much. In the second piece there was a piece of the set that never got used and that threw me off. And then there was one piece with topless girls. But you couldn’t really tell they were topless. So it wasn’t really much of a statement or costuming choice. And all the dancers kept throwing themselves to the ground. Every now and then there would be a beautifully executed move, but more often there wasn’t. I don’t know. I’m not a dance critic. But Turnip’s lights were lovely. So go Turnip. I’m really glad I got to see it. Now she’s got to bring that one show with the hot boys in it to New York so I can see more of her lighting. And, um, the hot boys.
Then it was strike. And I even got to help a little bit. Not that I think I really saved us any time or anything but it was better than sitting in the green room feeling useless. The dancers were all very nice and kept asking me about New York. And I got to meet some of the folks I’d heard stories about. Heh. But mostly I just wanted to get out of there to begin the drinking. Which we did. Eventually.
Turnip took me to the Cat & Fiddle which is apparently her version of the Stoned Crow. This was my second time there in as many trips to LA. It’s not a bad place. Decent drinks and fries and a large patio area. It was packed when we got there so we grabbed drinks at the bar then wandered back out to get a table on the patio. I hadn’t eaten and wanted dinner. Turnip’s friend GhettoBoy showed up and not long after my friend BeerGuy showed up. Then more people kept coming in. Lots of friends of Turnip’s that I didn’t get to chat with. Ponytail and Goofy did wear Ed’s Shirt though. As well as GhettoBoy. Mostly I ate my veggie burger, drank my vodka tonics and chatted with BeerGuy, GhettoBoy and Turnip. And it was a lovely, lovely night. We finally left at about 2 when they kicked us out. Because LA SUCKS that way. Of course New York might start to suck that way if Bloomberg has anything to say about it. SUCKS!!!! Um, yeah. So… Then Turnip and I headed home to giggle, play with the kitties and eventually get to sleep. We had a big day head of us. Heh. Hee hee hee hee hee hee hee.
Oh. My. God.
Someone found my blog by looking for 'thirty birthday spinster'. I am distraught. DISTRAUGHT!!!!! I am an old hag!!!! I must drink. Now. Soon. Maybe.
Also, someone from freshdirect popped onto my blog while searching for www.freshdirect.com. Do you think they'll ask me to quit linking to them from my dirty, spinstery blog? Oh my god, I'm a dirty old spinster. Ew. I am so gross I can't even talk to me anymore.
Thirty Birthday Spinster. Kill me. Muffy and Rugby will be forced to watch me sob into my cheap beer tonight as well as all the IT folks from work. Because I am Distraught!!!!
Maybe I should just give up on my stats? This can't be healthy for me.
Also, someone from freshdirect popped onto my blog while searching for www.freshdirect.com. Do you think they'll ask me to quit linking to them from my dirty, spinstery blog? Oh my god, I'm a dirty old spinster. Ew. I am so gross I can't even talk to me anymore.
Thirty Birthday Spinster. Kill me. Muffy and Rugby will be forced to watch me sob into my cheap beer tonight as well as all the IT folks from work. Because I am Distraught!!!!
Maybe I should just give up on my stats? This can't be healthy for me.
Wednesday, July 21, 2004
Actual Advice!!! - The Thank You Note
Okay, someone actually came to my blog from a search for "thank you notes for houseguests". I cannot tell you how happy that makes me. It's even better than someone finding this blog using "happy fuzzy bunny puppies". Because I love the thank you note. I do.
I used to hate the thank you note. It was something my mother made me do every June and December and it made me sad. I would get a day or so of leeway and then I was locked in my room after every birthday and Christmas until the damn notes were done. But eventually I figured out that the thank you note is a glorious thing and everyone should write them. A little bit of advice; if you're asking yourself if you should write one or not, you should do it. In fact, you should probably start asking yourself that question more often than not.
A thank you note lets a gift giver know that their gift arrived. Sometimes things don't make it where they're supposed to make it. It happens. A thank you note puts someone's mind at ease about that. It's also just a really nice thing to do. Someone who gives you a gift to celebrate your birth or their love for you or a milestone should be told just how much you appreciate that. If someone opens their home to you and gives you food and clean towels and warmth and hospitality they deserve a pretty little note that tells them that they rock. It's the nice thing to do.
If someone gives you a gift in person then a verbal thank you at that time usually suffices. But if it's a grandparent they still deserve a note after the fact. Because they're your grandparents and they adore you and they love thank you notes. I'm 30 and I think my thank you notes still get put on the fridge in my grandmothers' homes. Also, if it's someone who lives far away or someone you don't see very often they should probably get a verbal thank you at the time of the good deed/gift and then a mailed thank you later.
Spanky had us all out to her family's 'summer home' one weekend. It was awesome. Her parents put up with us for a weekend and her Mom even treated us to a fish fry. So when my friends and I got back I insisted on writing a thank you note and making them sign it. Her mother was apparently thrilled beyond reason and declared me to have been 'raised right'. I love that story. I had a wonderful time at their house and they were good to us and I'm so happy that me letting her know that made her so happy. You know?
And a late thank you note is better than none at all so don't think you can procrastinate until you don't have to write one anymore. Doesn't work like that. Write the dam note. Now.
Thank you notes are easy too. There's even a bit of a formula to it. Thank the person for the gift or kind act. Talk about what you plan to do with the gift or how nice it is or how much the kind act meant to you. Put in a little about the event that prompted the gift or act. Put in a little bit more about you and what you're up to if you have room and then wish the gift giver/do gooder well. Thank them again. Sign off. See, totally easy. You can do it! As can I. I owe a couple right now. I've inspired myself to finish them all!
I used to hate the thank you note. It was something my mother made me do every June and December and it made me sad. I would get a day or so of leeway and then I was locked in my room after every birthday and Christmas until the damn notes were done. But eventually I figured out that the thank you note is a glorious thing and everyone should write them. A little bit of advice; if you're asking yourself if you should write one or not, you should do it. In fact, you should probably start asking yourself that question more often than not.
A thank you note lets a gift giver know that their gift arrived. Sometimes things don't make it where they're supposed to make it. It happens. A thank you note puts someone's mind at ease about that. It's also just a really nice thing to do. Someone who gives you a gift to celebrate your birth or their love for you or a milestone should be told just how much you appreciate that. If someone opens their home to you and gives you food and clean towels and warmth and hospitality they deserve a pretty little note that tells them that they rock. It's the nice thing to do.
If someone gives you a gift in person then a verbal thank you at that time usually suffices. But if it's a grandparent they still deserve a note after the fact. Because they're your grandparents and they adore you and they love thank you notes. I'm 30 and I think my thank you notes still get put on the fridge in my grandmothers' homes. Also, if it's someone who lives far away or someone you don't see very often they should probably get a verbal thank you at the time of the good deed/gift and then a mailed thank you later.
Spanky had us all out to her family's 'summer home' one weekend. It was awesome. Her parents put up with us for a weekend and her Mom even treated us to a fish fry. So when my friends and I got back I insisted on writing a thank you note and making them sign it. Her mother was apparently thrilled beyond reason and declared me to have been 'raised right'. I love that story. I had a wonderful time at their house and they were good to us and I'm so happy that me letting her know that made her so happy. You know?
And a late thank you note is better than none at all so don't think you can procrastinate until you don't have to write one anymore. Doesn't work like that. Write the dam note. Now.
Thank you notes are easy too. There's even a bit of a formula to it. Thank the person for the gift or kind act. Talk about what you plan to do with the gift or how nice it is or how much the kind act meant to you. Put in a little about the event that prompted the gift or act. Put in a little bit more about you and what you're up to if you have room and then wish the gift giver/do gooder well. Thank them again. Sign off. See, totally easy. You can do it! As can I. I owe a couple right now. I've inspired myself to finish them all!
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
A Visit With Dad
So, after Birthday Week came a day free of stuff. Then Dad arrived. Arrival Day has already been blogged about.
On Day Two, we apparently had a bit of a date night. Without making out. Because he’s my DAD. I came home from work to find the man passed out in my hammock. So cute. Earlier he’d told me he wasn’t really a hammock guy. So when I didn’t see him in the apartment I figured he’d be chillin’ in the swing or off on a walk. Instead he was in the hammock with his RV catalog beside him, his hands clasped on his chest and his cigar clutched in his fingers. Luckily for him, my hammock and my yard the cigar had gone out. I was torn between wanting to wake him up quietly and running back inside to get my camera. The gentle waking won out. Alas. I think I made the wrong choice because the photo would’ve been awesome.
Anyway. We got all pretty and headed off to the Zombie Hut for drinks. Lots of tropical things with dolphins and umbrellas and such in them. And bowls of goldfish that Dad and I kept trying not to inhale, but weren’t so successful. Dad and I tend to graze on whatever is in front of us. Not good. But it’s who we are. Cows who graze. It was a nice little happy hour. We had a table right by the window and drank and grazed and chatted and people watched. Pretty awesome. Then it was off to The Grocery for a nice dinner. It’s a very zen like kinda feel. Minimalist decoration and all. I was facing the restaurant so I at least got to see patrons and staff. I hadn’t realized it until the end but Dad was facing me and a wall and wasn’t quite getting the same visual stimulation. But the food was good and the wine was good and we had a nice time.
Day Three was a little more mellow. Just some hanging around the apartment puttering and eating take-out from Buddy’s Burritos. Which was nice. I like that my folks come to visit and we can just hang and don’t have to spend every moment trying to do some exciting activity.
Then on Friday he headed back home and I headed to work and then LA. Woo.
On Day Two, we apparently had a bit of a date night. Without making out. Because he’s my DAD. I came home from work to find the man passed out in my hammock. So cute. Earlier he’d told me he wasn’t really a hammock guy. So when I didn’t see him in the apartment I figured he’d be chillin’ in the swing or off on a walk. Instead he was in the hammock with his RV catalog beside him, his hands clasped on his chest and his cigar clutched in his fingers. Luckily for him, my hammock and my yard the cigar had gone out. I was torn between wanting to wake him up quietly and running back inside to get my camera. The gentle waking won out. Alas. I think I made the wrong choice because the photo would’ve been awesome.
Anyway. We got all pretty and headed off to the Zombie Hut for drinks. Lots of tropical things with dolphins and umbrellas and such in them. And bowls of goldfish that Dad and I kept trying not to inhale, but weren’t so successful. Dad and I tend to graze on whatever is in front of us. Not good. But it’s who we are. Cows who graze. It was a nice little happy hour. We had a table right by the window and drank and grazed and chatted and people watched. Pretty awesome. Then it was off to The Grocery for a nice dinner. It’s a very zen like kinda feel. Minimalist decoration and all. I was facing the restaurant so I at least got to see patrons and staff. I hadn’t realized it until the end but Dad was facing me and a wall and wasn’t quite getting the same visual stimulation. But the food was good and the wine was good and we had a nice time.
Day Three was a little more mellow. Just some hanging around the apartment puttering and eating take-out from Buddy’s Burritos. Which was nice. I like that my folks come to visit and we can just hang and don’t have to spend every moment trying to do some exciting activity.
Then on Friday he headed back home and I headed to work and then LA. Woo.
Hoku
Pumpkin had to put her dog to sleep last night. She sent an email this morning. I was on the phone with her last night, blathering on about Tangerine's wedding and she had to go quickly because he was crying. And I kinda worried then. But I was still hopeful that it was just one of his bad days and he'd be fine.
She found out that he was sick earlier last month. But he managed to hang in there and have a pretty good doggie time until recently. So I think she was able to say goodbye, spend some good time with him and sort of make peace with him dying. I hope. I know I was really happy when I was there earlier this month and he was still seeming mostly like his Hoku self. He's such an awesome dog. And I got a little sad saying goodbye to him on the way to the train station. I only saw him on visits to Pumpkin but he was excellent and I did love him. And I can’t picture her house without him.
I remember when Pumpkin first got him and I’d go visit her at Cornell. She very graciously let me sleep on her bed while she and her boyfriend sacked out on the floor. And then Hoku climbed up on the bed and flopped down on me and it started to become clear why I got the bed. Then he threw up on me and it was even more clear. Heh.
He was a much bigger dog than I was used to hanging with. My family always had smaller dogs that were excitable but couldn’t really do much about it. So I sometimes wondered if Hoku wasn’t going to just knock me over at some point. On one visit to Pumpkin it was my guestly job to walk him while she was in class. A first I thought he was going to yank my arm out of my socket pulling on the leash (because I’m a wimp) or maybe even pull me off my feet and drag me along behind him (I was smaller and lighter then). Then I let him go run and play in one of the pretty water areas there and was convinced I would lose him. I had visions of him running far and wide, getting away from me and looking for his beloved Pumpkin and in doing so, would be lost forever. Thankfully, this did not happen. He never really left my line of sight, tired himself out, came back and we trotted on back to her apartment.
He was always so friendly. Right at the door when we’d get to her place. Demanding love and attention and ball throwing all the time. Allowing me to rub his belly whenever I wanted, out of the kindness of his heart. I got used to the big friendly dog love and kinda liked it. And he was such a beautiful dog. I used to tell him how pretty he was until Pumpkin made me stop. Said he was a boy and not pretty. So I had to start telling him what a handsome thing he was.
I just wish he hadn’t gotten sick and that Pumpkin could’ve had him around for a while longer. It happens. You tend to outlive your pets. But it sucks so much. Even if you know it’s going to happen. I’ve lost pets and it’s just so horrible.
I’ve never had to actually make the call though. Never had to make the decision to put an animal to sleep. With Sally, our first dog, she was sick and one day I came home from school and Mom and Dad had already put her to sleep and buried her. It was a shock and I was very, very sad. But I had no responsibility in it. I trusted that my parents made the right call and was a little sad I couldn’t say goodbye, but figured they knew what they were doing. With Pussywillow, she started acting sick right before Christmas. And she held on through the holidays. Then, when I was at school, Mom and Dad took her to the vet. The vet said that she was too sick and nothing could be done and the best thing to do was to put her to sleep. So they brought her home so I could say goodbye before taking her down to the vet. But the trip to the vet must have been too much for her. Because she died while Mom and Dad were getting me. And then with our dog Freckles, I was in New York and she was basically Mom and Dad’s dog then and not mine. And they made the decision to put her to sleep once it seemed like life was more bad than good for her. So again, I lost the pets, but didn’t really have to take responsibility for them. And I’m afraid to do that. I love my girls and get so sad when I look at Nani and realize that she’s an older cat now. She’s healthy and happy and all, but I just dread the day when she’s not.
But today she’s fine and Hoku is not and Pumpkin probably isn’t totally either. And I wish I could do something. I have found new love for my suitcase and would love to go see her this weekend, but she probably has to work or wants to be alone or something. I don’t know. -- Let me know, babe. I’m thinking of you. As is my Mom I suspect. Well, she will be as soon as she gets up. As are a lot of people.
She found out that he was sick earlier last month. But he managed to hang in there and have a pretty good doggie time until recently. So I think she was able to say goodbye, spend some good time with him and sort of make peace with him dying. I hope. I know I was really happy when I was there earlier this month and he was still seeming mostly like his Hoku self. He's such an awesome dog. And I got a little sad saying goodbye to him on the way to the train station. I only saw him on visits to Pumpkin but he was excellent and I did love him. And I can’t picture her house without him.
I remember when Pumpkin first got him and I’d go visit her at Cornell. She very graciously let me sleep on her bed while she and her boyfriend sacked out on the floor. And then Hoku climbed up on the bed and flopped down on me and it started to become clear why I got the bed. Then he threw up on me and it was even more clear. Heh.
He was a much bigger dog than I was used to hanging with. My family always had smaller dogs that were excitable but couldn’t really do much about it. So I sometimes wondered if Hoku wasn’t going to just knock me over at some point. On one visit to Pumpkin it was my guestly job to walk him while she was in class. A first I thought he was going to yank my arm out of my socket pulling on the leash (because I’m a wimp) or maybe even pull me off my feet and drag me along behind him (I was smaller and lighter then). Then I let him go run and play in one of the pretty water areas there and was convinced I would lose him. I had visions of him running far and wide, getting away from me and looking for his beloved Pumpkin and in doing so, would be lost forever. Thankfully, this did not happen. He never really left my line of sight, tired himself out, came back and we trotted on back to her apartment.
He was always so friendly. Right at the door when we’d get to her place. Demanding love and attention and ball throwing all the time. Allowing me to rub his belly whenever I wanted, out of the kindness of his heart. I got used to the big friendly dog love and kinda liked it. And he was such a beautiful dog. I used to tell him how pretty he was until Pumpkin made me stop. Said he was a boy and not pretty. So I had to start telling him what a handsome thing he was.
I just wish he hadn’t gotten sick and that Pumpkin could’ve had him around for a while longer. It happens. You tend to outlive your pets. But it sucks so much. Even if you know it’s going to happen. I’ve lost pets and it’s just so horrible.
I’ve never had to actually make the call though. Never had to make the decision to put an animal to sleep. With Sally, our first dog, she was sick and one day I came home from school and Mom and Dad had already put her to sleep and buried her. It was a shock and I was very, very sad. But I had no responsibility in it. I trusted that my parents made the right call and was a little sad I couldn’t say goodbye, but figured they knew what they were doing. With Pussywillow, she started acting sick right before Christmas. And she held on through the holidays. Then, when I was at school, Mom and Dad took her to the vet. The vet said that she was too sick and nothing could be done and the best thing to do was to put her to sleep. So they brought her home so I could say goodbye before taking her down to the vet. But the trip to the vet must have been too much for her. Because she died while Mom and Dad were getting me. And then with our dog Freckles, I was in New York and she was basically Mom and Dad’s dog then and not mine. And they made the decision to put her to sleep once it seemed like life was more bad than good for her. So again, I lost the pets, but didn’t really have to take responsibility for them. And I’m afraid to do that. I love my girls and get so sad when I look at Nani and realize that she’s an older cat now. She’s healthy and happy and all, but I just dread the day when she’s not.
But today she’s fine and Hoku is not and Pumpkin probably isn’t totally either. And I wish I could do something. I have found new love for my suitcase and would love to go see her this weekend, but she probably has to work or wants to be alone or something. I don’t know. -- Let me know, babe. I’m thinking of you. As is my Mom I suspect. Well, she will be as soon as she gets up. As are a lot of people.
Monday, July 19, 2004
I'm HOME!!!!
I was so excited in the car going home last night. I just kept looking at Jersey and then New York grinning and all happy to be home, back in New York, back in Brooklyn. It felt kinda peaceful to be back here, despite the nonsense people spout about how crazy and intense New York is. I felt kinda calm being back home.
I have had a wonderful time traveling all over and seeing my high school friends and all of that. It's all been big fun. My sheer joy at being back at New York is not a reflection on the time spent away. Just so you know. But I am so happy to be back right now.
Tonight I plan to unpack and then hide my suitcase in the basement. I've become irrationally angry with it and kinda want to cry whenever I have to pack it or lift it. I feel my suitcase and I need a little space, some time apart from each other. And since I pay the rent, the suitcase can go in the basement and I'll be staying in the apartment. I'm also going to clean the catbox and change my sheets. And when it stops raining I'm going to mow the lawn and put the hammock back in its spot. And make my apartment all pretty and habitable so I can run around in it and love it enough to be able to handle my next trip in September. Yay. Woo Woo.
Unless Muffy & Steph and I actually follow through on the rumblings we've had about going camping. But maybe I won't have to pack a suitcase if we do that in August. Maybe just a bag. Hmmmm...
Also, I need to catch up on photos and my blogs. Ugh. I brought my laptop with me this weekend to work on the travel entries and just didn't have a moment to myself the whole time. So, gotta do that this week whenever I have a moment. Soon I hope. At least Birthday Week is done. Well, the blogs, not the photo situation.
I am not thrilled to be back in the office, though. Just so you know.
I have had a wonderful time traveling all over and seeing my high school friends and all of that. It's all been big fun. My sheer joy at being back at New York is not a reflection on the time spent away. Just so you know. But I am so happy to be back right now.
Tonight I plan to unpack and then hide my suitcase in the basement. I've become irrationally angry with it and kinda want to cry whenever I have to pack it or lift it. I feel my suitcase and I need a little space, some time apart from each other. And since I pay the rent, the suitcase can go in the basement and I'll be staying in the apartment. I'm also going to clean the catbox and change my sheets. And when it stops raining I'm going to mow the lawn and put the hammock back in its spot. And make my apartment all pretty and habitable so I can run around in it and love it enough to be able to handle my next trip in September. Yay. Woo Woo.
Unless Muffy & Steph and I actually follow through on the rumblings we've had about going camping. But maybe I won't have to pack a suitcase if we do that in August. Maybe just a bag. Hmmmm...
Also, I need to catch up on photos and my blogs. Ugh. I brought my laptop with me this weekend to work on the travel entries and just didn't have a moment to myself the whole time. So, gotta do that this week whenever I have a moment. Soon I hope. At least Birthday Week is done. Well, the blogs, not the photo situation.
I am not thrilled to be back in the office, though. Just so you know.
Tuesday, July 13, 2004
Birthday Week - Day Ten (6-20)
I was up much earlier than anyone should have to be the day after they turn 30, but it was all really my own fault. Seeing as I had scheduled brunch and all. Originally I thought that there would be houseguests and people crashing after the party. One party left me with five folks there the next morning, and I ended up making them all pancakes that day. I figured it was birthday week so I’d just schedule a brunch into that day after and not have to make pancakes for anyone. Of course it turns out that this was the first party ever that I didn’t have anyone in my apartment the next morning.
Oh god. I hope this isn’t a bad sign for my thirties - a future without overnight guests!?!?!? Not good. Um… I’m a little worried now…
Yeah. I’m not going to think about that. Anyway. A few folks were actually popping by for brunch despite not staying the night so I had to be up and dressed and ready to go. Traveler was even coming in from Connecticut just for brunch. Because he is the sweetest ever.
I was actually up and dressed and tidying a bit when the Traveler arrived. Then Muffy and Steph. There was some miscommunication with Vader, so we ended up hanging out in the backyard for a while, the four of us just chatting and enjoying the really, really pretty day. Finally we all headed over to Lobo for brunch. Eggs and guacamole and spicy Bloody Mary’s and excellent conversation make for a sterling morning after brunch. I was really happy we did it despite my lack of morning after guests.
Then Muffy and Steph drove their grill home and the Traveler headed off. Vader and I hung out in my backyard chatting for ever and it was really pleasant. The weather was gorgeous and it was just fun, lazy friends who’ve known each other forever (21 damn years. Wow. Our friendship can go out drinking now sitting out back dishing. Perfect way to wrap up Birthday Week I think.
Eventually I let the poor woman go home so I could watch some TiVo (yay TiVo) and get to bed.
I can’t wait to do this all again next year. Yay!
Oh god. I hope this isn’t a bad sign for my thirties - a future without overnight guests!?!?!? Not good. Um… I’m a little worried now…
Yeah. I’m not going to think about that. Anyway. A few folks were actually popping by for brunch despite not staying the night so I had to be up and dressed and ready to go. Traveler was even coming in from Connecticut just for brunch. Because he is the sweetest ever.
I was actually up and dressed and tidying a bit when the Traveler arrived. Then Muffy and Steph. There was some miscommunication with Vader, so we ended up hanging out in the backyard for a while, the four of us just chatting and enjoying the really, really pretty day. Finally we all headed over to Lobo for brunch. Eggs and guacamole and spicy Bloody Mary’s and excellent conversation make for a sterling morning after brunch. I was really happy we did it despite my lack of morning after guests.
Then Muffy and Steph drove their grill home and the Traveler headed off. Vader and I hung out in my backyard chatting for ever and it was really pleasant. The weather was gorgeous and it was just fun, lazy friends who’ve known each other forever (21 damn years. Wow. Our friendship can go out drinking now sitting out back dishing. Perfect way to wrap up Birthday Week I think.
Eventually I let the poor woman go home so I could watch some TiVo (yay TiVo) and get to bed.
I can’t wait to do this all again next year. Yay!
Birthday Week - Day Nine (6-19)
I had a Fresh Direct order coming between 9 & 11 and had to make sure I was home by 9. Which was a lot of fun considering I was exhausted and kinda hungover. But surprisingly I caught an awesome cab driver (who did not hit on me) who got me home super fast. The food didn’t actually get there until about 10. Which wasn’t so bad. I mostly sat in my chair drinking water and moaning a little. It wasn’t a horrible painful hangover. It was just one of those things where you’re really tired and your tummy hurts a little and you feel like you might get a headache but then don’t actually get one. It could’ve been much worse.
But then the food came. And I had starchy junk food to munch on and soothe my tummy. And then Muffy came on over to prove her awesomeness as a friend for the three millionth time. And she brought me coffee. We sat and enjoyed our coffee and giggled and moaned (well, I moaned - she was quite pleasant) and I started to feel better. While moaning and coffeeing we opened my bday gifts from Mom. All kinds of cute things she picked up in China like a pretty barrette of lacquer and mother of pearl. I’m afraid to wear it because I don’t want to hurt it. And fancy tea. And slippers and a pretty bracelet and all sorts of things. It was my birthday and all. Some gift opening had to happen and I told all my friends not to bring gifts. Turns out my friends are a disobedient bunch.
At about noon we started working on getting the pad in shape for the party. Which was not fun. We moved furniture and put together the hammock - which is a FABULOUS hammock. We moved crumbling stone garden boarder pieces into the basement. I dropped one on my foot and it hurt real bad. Muffy thought a trip to the emergency room would be a bit of a downer during Birthday Week, so luckily we didn’t have to make one. But it HURT. It didn’t bruise much though. I got a really ugly bruise on my left forearm that didn’t hurt at all though. That’s the one that had everyone worried all evening. Strange. And there was lots of cleaning and all. Eventually I started on my minimal cooking. Normally I spend days making about forty different things but this time I didn’t want to stress myself too much during birthday week and all. So sausage (vegetarian) balls, artichoke (baked Mayo!) dip and Tex-Mex dip were about it for me.
While I was cooking, Muffy went all Martha Stewart in my backyard and it was awesome as well as adorable. She set up all the furniture and arranged a cooking area and seating areas and so on and so forth. I really needed to have taken a picture of it all before everyone arrived, but I’m a slacker and was running behind (as always when it comes to parties). You’ll just have to try and picture it in your mind.
Anyway, she headed home to rest and get prettier and all that and I showered and went back to cooking. Rock Star Fran showed up first - with gifts. It’s All About Me Earrings and pretty slippers that I put on right away. And then I put her to work making most of the Tex-Mex dip because she is a good friend. Then others started popping in with meat and beer and gifts (shame, shame - but very sweet). At some point Muffy & Steph showed up with the grill (because they are far better to me than I deserve) and got that going. I really had very little to do with the grilling as I don’t much care how my veggie burgers are done. At some point Muffy asked me for them, I gave them to her and then a little while later I had a plate with cooked veggie burgers on a bun with cheese. Muffy is kinda magical, y’all.
It was a lot of fun. Tons of people showed up. Well, twenty or so, but that seems like tons. Everyone kinda gathered around the table on the porch area, breaking up poor Muffy’s lawn seating area to bring chairs over to the table. Though I guess that is where the chips and dips were gathering so it makes sense. And there was chatting and beer drinking and hat wearing and all that. At one point DKE got out and had to be fetched and put back in her carrier - adding some nice scratches to my very sexy bruises. Muffy and Steph ran off to get me cupcakes (that whole better than I deserve thing). They were very suspicious upon leaving so I told everyone they ran off for a quickie. I’m pleased with how easily most people believed me. I am a bad person.
Couples kept sneaking off to lay in the hammock and everyone showed proper awe for my excellent backyard. I kept wanting to sneak off for an nap in the hammock due to being completely exhausted and all but thought that might be a little tacky. Actually I did sneak off for a bit after it was dark. But everyone kept looking back at me so I was only in the hammock for about two minutes. Heh. Besides, I really couldn’t handle the idea that there was fun going on and I wasn’t part of it.
At some point Turnip called to wish me Happy Birthday and to tell me she loved me. Because she is cool like that. Sadly I kept getting called away and I think she managed to talk more with everyone else at the party than with me. Oops. Everyone seems to like her though so that’s nice. And she got invited to Monkey Man’s housewarming party by his roommate even though I hadn’t even been invited. And the party doesn’t actually have a date yet…
Nothing horribly exciting happened. Well, there were fireworks or something that we could hear at one point. The group said they were for Olympic Torch ceremonies, but I think we all know that it was in honor of me. And at some point the wind really picked up outside and it got kinda cold. I was actually handing out sweatshirts and shirts and things. Charlotte even put on Ed’s Shirt just to be a little warmer. So we cleaned up out back and then headed in.
We wrapped things up with Vader, Muffy, Steph and I giggling and being dorks in my apartment, putting goo on Vader’s forehead and making dumb jokes and all that.
I think everyone was out of there not long after 1AM and I got to crawl into my pretty, pretty bed feeling a little bit better about being 30. Okay, a lot better about being 30.
My friends are awesome. Really. I’m too lucky. Don’t deserve any of you.
I guess it doesn’t make for an exciting story, but I had a really great day nine.
But then the food came. And I had starchy junk food to munch on and soothe my tummy. And then Muffy came on over to prove her awesomeness as a friend for the three millionth time. And she brought me coffee. We sat and enjoyed our coffee and giggled and moaned (well, I moaned - she was quite pleasant) and I started to feel better. While moaning and coffeeing we opened my bday gifts from Mom. All kinds of cute things she picked up in China like a pretty barrette of lacquer and mother of pearl. I’m afraid to wear it because I don’t want to hurt it. And fancy tea. And slippers and a pretty bracelet and all sorts of things. It was my birthday and all. Some gift opening had to happen and I told all my friends not to bring gifts. Turns out my friends are a disobedient bunch.
At about noon we started working on getting the pad in shape for the party. Which was not fun. We moved furniture and put together the hammock - which is a FABULOUS hammock. We moved crumbling stone garden boarder pieces into the basement. I dropped one on my foot and it hurt real bad. Muffy thought a trip to the emergency room would be a bit of a downer during Birthday Week, so luckily we didn’t have to make one. But it HURT. It didn’t bruise much though. I got a really ugly bruise on my left forearm that didn’t hurt at all though. That’s the one that had everyone worried all evening. Strange. And there was lots of cleaning and all. Eventually I started on my minimal cooking. Normally I spend days making about forty different things but this time I didn’t want to stress myself too much during birthday week and all. So sausage (vegetarian) balls, artichoke (baked Mayo!) dip and Tex-Mex dip were about it for me.
While I was cooking, Muffy went all Martha Stewart in my backyard and it was awesome as well as adorable. She set up all the furniture and arranged a cooking area and seating areas and so on and so forth. I really needed to have taken a picture of it all before everyone arrived, but I’m a slacker and was running behind (as always when it comes to parties). You’ll just have to try and picture it in your mind.
Anyway, she headed home to rest and get prettier and all that and I showered and went back to cooking. Rock Star Fran showed up first - with gifts. It’s All About Me Earrings and pretty slippers that I put on right away. And then I put her to work making most of the Tex-Mex dip because she is a good friend. Then others started popping in with meat and beer and gifts (shame, shame - but very sweet). At some point Muffy & Steph showed up with the grill (because they are far better to me than I deserve) and got that going. I really had very little to do with the grilling as I don’t much care how my veggie burgers are done. At some point Muffy asked me for them, I gave them to her and then a little while later I had a plate with cooked veggie burgers on a bun with cheese. Muffy is kinda magical, y’all.
It was a lot of fun. Tons of people showed up. Well, twenty or so, but that seems like tons. Everyone kinda gathered around the table on the porch area, breaking up poor Muffy’s lawn seating area to bring chairs over to the table. Though I guess that is where the chips and dips were gathering so it makes sense. And there was chatting and beer drinking and hat wearing and all that. At one point DKE got out and had to be fetched and put back in her carrier - adding some nice scratches to my very sexy bruises. Muffy and Steph ran off to get me cupcakes (that whole better than I deserve thing). They were very suspicious upon leaving so I told everyone they ran off for a quickie. I’m pleased with how easily most people believed me. I am a bad person.
Couples kept sneaking off to lay in the hammock and everyone showed proper awe for my excellent backyard. I kept wanting to sneak off for an nap in the hammock due to being completely exhausted and all but thought that might be a little tacky. Actually I did sneak off for a bit after it was dark. But everyone kept looking back at me so I was only in the hammock for about two minutes. Heh. Besides, I really couldn’t handle the idea that there was fun going on and I wasn’t part of it.
At some point Turnip called to wish me Happy Birthday and to tell me she loved me. Because she is cool like that. Sadly I kept getting called away and I think she managed to talk more with everyone else at the party than with me. Oops. Everyone seems to like her though so that’s nice. And she got invited to Monkey Man’s housewarming party by his roommate even though I hadn’t even been invited. And the party doesn’t actually have a date yet…
Nothing horribly exciting happened. Well, there were fireworks or something that we could hear at one point. The group said they were for Olympic Torch ceremonies, but I think we all know that it was in honor of me. And at some point the wind really picked up outside and it got kinda cold. I was actually handing out sweatshirts and shirts and things. Charlotte even put on Ed’s Shirt just to be a little warmer. So we cleaned up out back and then headed in.
We wrapped things up with Vader, Muffy, Steph and I giggling and being dorks in my apartment, putting goo on Vader’s forehead and making dumb jokes and all that.
I think everyone was out of there not long after 1AM and I got to crawl into my pretty, pretty bed feeling a little bit better about being 30. Okay, a lot better about being 30.
My friends are awesome. Really. I’m too lucky. Don’t deserve any of you.
I guess it doesn’t make for an exciting story, but I had a really great day nine.
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