It's genetic.

My cat loves to chase my mom and I around the house all the time. Up and down the hallway he stalks us, and every so often, he catches us with his claws. While I just yank my pants leg out of his grip, my mom's thinner pants make her more prone to his attacks than myself. So, naturally, her first reaction whenever he snags her is to wheel around, glare at him and shout, "how would you like it if I bit YOU?! Or better yet, how about I just toss you off the balcony like a flying squirrel? Then you won't chase me anymore!" Mostly this exchange just makes me laugh. But from time to time I like to just let me mom know that following through with her threats is not okay.

This is a 100% genuine sample of a normal, everyday conversation between my mother and myself:

Erin: Try not to kill the kitty cat while I'm at work. No flying squirrels off of the balcony!

Mommie: Too late, I just FedExed Binx up to Colin ... without the box!

Erin: OMG, you totally stapled a packing slip to his tail, didn't you?!

Mommie: Ah, no. That would have been cruel. I superglued bubble wrap to him and taped the packing slip to THAT. DUH!

Erin: Did you at least poke holes in the bubble wrap so he can breathe?! Actually, he'll probably claw a few air holes himself, so no worries!

Mommie: You must really think I'm mean, GEESH. I put a straw through the bubble wrap and just to be sure he is safe marked it THIS SIDE UP!

Erin: Oh whew! A straw is a good idea, he can totally figure out how to suck air through a straw. Bye bye, Binx. Sorry you have to be shipped to death.

Mommie: In best ghetto accent: "Oh no I din...n't, foo, Binx like, he chillin' man! That superglue is fly, stuck that sucka's lips right to the straw. No way he lose it man. Know what I sayin'?"
Back in normal voice, I also left instructions for Binx in 3 languages.
Plus I shipped him overnight express delivery. If he gets a hairball stuck in the straw he can hold his breath that long.

I Spy Some Funny. Again.

Background:
One day Faryl was bored at work and asked me why the day was taking so long. I figured that she should have this conversation with the day itself, so I decided to play the role. Now when she's bored at work, she addresses Day directly, hence the brief narrative switch from Erin to Day. My alter ego had to step in for me for reasons that will become clear as you read.

Also, we play long-distance I Spy all day. We're just that cool.

On with the show.


Erin: Now I Spy something high.

Faryl: has SBTL been smoking pot again?

Erin: Hold on a minute while I pick myself up off the floor and wipe the tears from my eyes. You kill me with your funny.

Faryl: haha good.
hmm.
19. does it use power?

Erin: Yes.

Faryl: 18. is it florescent?

Erin: Nope.
P.S. I had to talk to SBTL just now, and I was starting to crack a little towards the end. I can never look at her the same after that. Thank you.

Faryl: i do what i can

Erin: Yes you certainly do.

Faryl: 17. does it make cold air?

Erin: Nope.

Faryl: 16. is it on the ceiling?

Erin: Yes.

Faryl: 15. is there one on my ceiling?

Erin: Yes.
Wait.
It COULD be on the wall.

Faryl: hmm. 14. does it come in various colors?

Erin: I think it always has to be the color it is. I've seen people paint them, but I'm pretty sure that's not allowed.

Faryl: 13. does it warn you if something's wrong?

Erin: Yes.

Faryl: 12. does it light up?

Erin: In a manner, yes.

Faryl: 11. does it make annoying noises?

Erin: You betcha.

Faryl: 10. i'm going to have to guess SBTL again

Erin: Day: I'm sorry, Erin's dead now. I'm going to have to take over from here.

Faryl: aw ok Day.
9. does it need its batteries replaced?

Erin: Day: Yes.

Faryl: 8. Oh so SBTL's sex toys?

Erin: God: Fuck. You killed Erin AND Monday?

Faryl: jeez, they're dropping like flies

Erin: God: Well, you're damn funny, woman.

Faryl: 7. is it smokin'?

Erin: God: Well, it doesn't smoke itself, no.

Faryl: 6. does it need a smoke?

Erin: God: Like I need your donations every Sunday.
Which is to say, yes.

Faryl: 5. does it drink too?

Erin: God: It's a heathen in all ways. I really messed up when I was creating this one.

Faryl: well i don't think Regina George is in your office but ok

Erin: God: Ooo, burn. Yeah, sorry about that one. I let Von Baby Jesus take over for a minute, and he obviously wasn't ready.

Faryl: tisk tisk

Erin: God: Dude, I heard the ice cream truck. What do you want from me? I had to get outside quick, and Little Jesus was the only one around.

Faryl: well i can't blame you

Erin: God: Right? Who doesn't love those ice cream bars shaped like Bugs Bunny? Gumballs for eyes, mmmm.

Faryl: mm

Erin: God: See?
I was totally justified.
But still, sorry about her.

Faryl: right

Faryl: oh its a smoke detector

Erin: God: Yays!

Erin: God: So, since I'm all omniscient and shit, you want me to see if I can get Erin back here for you? The game would probably last longer.

Faryl: yeah that sounds good

Erin: God: Alright, hang on a sec.


God: Yo, Hell!

Hell: Word up, God.

God: Can I get Erin back, please? Her friend kinda needs her to play I Spy.

Hell: I dunno, man. She's, like, saving seats or some shit. Lemme go see what I can do.

God: Appreciate it, Hell.

Hell: Looks like she's willing to go back if I promise to keep her and her friends together when they all get here. I think I can swing that, they'll be fun to watch.

God: Thanks man, I owe you one.

Hell: No worries, Dog. Shout at ya later.

God: You know I hate it when you call me Dog. The irony is painful.

Hell: You love it.


God: Alright, my child. I got your friend back for you. Have fun playing I Spy with her, and try not to kill her so much, hmm?

Faryl: i'll do my best

Erin: God: That's all I can ask. Peace.

Faryl: And also with you

Faryl Saar, World Mini Pool Champion

Erin: Hi.

Faryl: howdy
youve been gone a while

Erin: I've been working my ass off to meet this ridiculous deadline they gave me. And they just pushed it back, so ...
Hi.
What'cha been up to since I've been gone?

Faryl: nothing too important

Erin: No?

Faryl: nah. made a couple trailers but that was the highlight and those were pretty bad films

Erin: :( Poor Faryl. I'm going to get you a tiny pool table for your desk for days like today.

Faryl: that would rock

Erin: Yeah?
Alright, it's a deal.
You can be a mini pool player extraordinaire. ESPN will have a day dedicated to you and your life story.
"It all started when her friend gave her her first mini pool table to ward off workplace boredom.
Little did they know, a star was about to be discovered."

Faryl: sweet i can see it now...
i'll have a room full of mini pool tables
and a gold plated one in a glass case

Erin: Yes!!!!
And a mini pool cue made of solid gold that you keep on your wall.
Above the singing fish.

Faryl: aww that's the life

Erin: And Budweiser will be your sponsor and make sure your Winnebago is ALL decked out.
I'm calling ESPN right now.

Faryl: you get on that, Agent

Erin: Sweet! Does that mean I'm officially hired?

Faryl: i'll have the contract faxed over first thing monday morning.

Erin: Wow, I'm honored!
I'll make sure you get only the best endorsements and party deals.

Faryl: that's all I ask

Erin: Alright, I'm excited for this now. You'll get your first mini pool table soon so you can start practicing to be a star like I know you will be.

Faryl: This makes you my enabler

Erin: Only if you start drinking your Budweiser endorsements and become a dirty alcoholic who used to be the world's premier mini pool champ.
Don't do it, kid. Stay away from the bottle.
I wish I'd had someone to give me advice like that.
Wouldda saved my Ma a lot of heartache, I'll tell you that.

Faryl: We're all given a second chance, this could be yours

Erin: You can be what I could have been, kid. With my experience and your fresh face, we'll be unstoppable. The mini pool world will be taken by storm and turned upside down.
You and me, kid. You and me.

Faryl: start montage
You could have been a contender. the bottle destroyed your career, don't let it happen again

Erin: I coulda been a contender!!!
You're the wind beneath my wings. I'll never turn to good ole Jack or José any more.

Faryl: I better not see any rum in that Coke

Erin: See? With you watching out for me I know I can keep my promise and stick to the 12 steps.

Faryl: You must first forgive yourself before you can forgive anyone else

Erin: I don't know if I can do it, Faryl. I don't think I can go to that place in my soul and come out of the darkness again. It's just ... so dark in there. You know? I just caused so much pain and anguish, I don't know if I can ever redeem myself.
Do you think Von Baby Jesus can forgive me?

Faryl: The first step is acceptance, once you have accepted your mistakes Von Baby Jesus will too

Erin: Hold me, Faryl! I need to know that I have at least one person who can see the awful things in my past and forgive me for them! Please, Von Baby Jesus, help your lost lamb find her way back to the flock!

Faryl: Say 5 Hail Mary's and you will be forgiven

Erin: 1. Hail Mary, full of grace, hallowed be thy name. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall not fear death. For my God is a benevolent God, and the only one who could ever reach me was the son of a preacher man.
2. Hail Mary, fuller of grace, halloweder be thy name. Yea, though I walk farther through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall not fear death. For my God is a sooper benevolent God, and the only one who could ever teach me was the son of a preacher man.

Faryl: ok thats good

Erin: All done now?

Faryl: yes you are forgiven

Erin: Praise Von Baby Jesus!

Faryl: Now for the rehab

Erin: I said no, no, no.

Faryl: haha oh god

Erin: Not even He can help us now, my friend.

Faryl: no, no he can't

Erin: That's because He's jealous of how endlessly awesome we are.

Faryl: Oh Von Baby Jesus. Jealousy is the devil's tool

Erin: Hallelujah!

Faith without deeds is dead

-- Albertine, by Brooke Fraser

Firstly, apologies to Sam and Kami for making them wait so long for an update. ;)

So way back in the beginning of September, Sam and Mush and I went to see this little-known (in the US) singer by the name of Brooke Fraser. She’s from New Zealand, and she’s pretty popular in her home country. Over here, not so much. Yet.

I prefaced the concert with fair warning to both of my fellow concert-goers: Brooke Fraser is a religious songstress. She writes lyrics that, if you’re listening closely enough, can seem to be about such religious Hot Topics as abstinence, following in the path of the Righteous Light, etc. I bought the tickets because she could have been singing about garbage cans and I still would have listened. She has an AMAZING voice, and YouTube led me to believe that it would be just as awesome live. So as we fought the throngs of Jesus Is My Homeboy teens, I secretly hoped that Sam and Mush wouldn’t regret coming along for the wave-your-hands-in-the-air (No, not like you just don’t care. Like you’re at church on a particularly holy Sunday) ride.

After being trampled by people who thought my shoes looked like a comfy place to rest their asses before the opening act, the curtains went up to much applause … and You Are My Sunshine. Now, this song holds a special place in my heart, and it always will. But putting your whiny falsetto boy voice and an acoustic guitar behind it doesn’t really make it audience-worthy. It was cute, but the poor nameless boy-man who sang it is going to have to give me a little leeway. I didn’t pay to see him sing Itsy Bitsy Spider, I paid to hear Brooke Fraser sing about “waiting ‘til we’re ready,” dammit. So I waited patiently through his set, and clapped like the crazy NOTW adolescents when Brooke Fraser took the stage.



Holy Scheisse, that woman can sing. I have to honestly say, she sounds amazing on the record but she’s damn near flawless live. I always judge by how closely the singer sticks to the harder notes they hit on their records versus when they’re live. Take Meiko, for instance. She cut most of her longer notes in half, and was considerably lower on some of the high notes. She wasn’t bad, but she also wasn’t the same. Not so with this one. Ms. Fraser held the long notes longer, and added some nice vocal freestyling that showcased the fact that those pipes are the real deal.

After her first song or two, she had a nice conversation with the audience wherein she asked someone to let her in on the secret to opening her bottle of Arrowhead water. She couldn’t get the bloody Sport Top to flip open, so she ended up just twisting the whole damn thing off (per audience instruction). The whole thing was terribly endearing, and was marked as such when Sam turns to Mush and me and states with a little bit of awe, “she seems so nice, I wanna be her friend!” Coming from Sam, that is one solid Stamp of Approval!

The rest of the night proceeded with more adorable stories, including the ever-important story of the title track off her newest album, Albertine. Turns out she went to Rwanda in 2005 and, like anybody would be, was struck by the war and poverty and all-around anguish she saw there. Flash forward three years, and she’s made it her life’s mission to help these children and give them the opportunity to enjoy simplicities that people who haven’t had to live through that kind of home-grown horror tend to take for granted. After making everyone in the audience feel like graduates of the A is for Asshole! University (in the most non-threatening and adorable way), she gave us the chance to redeem ourselves and sponsor some children or buy merchandise to donate proceeds. People raised their hands to sponsor the kids, and the night was back off on its merry little way. A few songs and a wacky but enjoyable attempt at a sing-a-long to Kings of Leon’s Day Old Blues later, and it was go-home time.

While waiting for the valet to bring my Shirley back to me, some lovely young chanteuses decided to cap the night off with a warbly rendition of Ingrid Michaelson’s The Way I Am. Word to the wise: love the song, let’s let the professional handle it, shall we? Kthxbai.

Come with me (again) if you want to live.

-- The Terminator (Arnold Schwarzenegger), Terminator 2: Judgement Day

More good music for you to join in on. Faryl's coming, anyone else on board?

Uh Huh Her
Avalon, Hollywood, CA
Friday, November 14th
8:00p
$20

Also, Missy Higgins, my very favoritest (for right now) artist is playing on Sunday, November 9th. The only problem is that it's all the way down in Anaheim. As a result, I'll only get tickets if I can get someone to go with me. I'll need someone to help me stay awake on the drive back. I don't have ticket prices or a time yet, but I'm going to guess about $30 and 8:00p, respectively.

I am so hoping someone wants to go so that I can rationalize the drive to the part of my brain that says Monday will suuuuck. But the show would absolutely be worth it! Any takers? Pretty please?!

I know better not to be friends with boys with girlfriends

Oh, I know better than that
I know better
You'll play the victim and I'll be the bad guy
-- Boys with Girlfriends, by Meiko

Firstly: AMEN, Meiko. Most of you know what I mean. So there's that.

Now, I owe you pictures from the Meiko concert that Mush and I attended last week.

(Click here for larger images)

It was a fairly awesome night, and there were a few firsts for me:

- First time I ever stood for a concert. I don't think my lower back has forgiven me yet.
- First time I've ever been thisclose to the stage. We were literally at the front; I could only have gotten closer if I were the camera guy who showed up in the middle of the set, stepped all over us and spilled alcohol everywhere.
- First time I ever heard Mush say anything so sentimental as, "I felt him in my heart." That will make me laugh for the rest of my life.
- First time I ever heard of someone being schocked by a Shirley Temple. Mush was at the bar ordering us out Temples, and the guy next to her looks over and says, astounded, "What's that?!" Such a concoction, that deliciously red substance! What ever could that be, and how quickly will it make me intoxicated beyond legal and logical limits?
- NOT the first time I've wanted to punch someone in the nose for getting their enthusiasm all over me. To the chick who felt it was acceptable to touch me for an extended period of time: I understand being "moved" by the music. Just ... be moved in your own personal space and leave mine alone. Kthxbye.

And just think, Mush and I get to do it all over again next week. Rock on!

Come with me if you want to live.

-- The Terminator (Arnold Schwarzenegger), Terminator 2: Judgement Day

Or, you know, listen to pretty great music for a decent price.

Some of my favorite new artists are playing locally over the next several weeks, and I have one question for you: Do you want to live hear good music?

Jay Nash / Joe Purdy / Meiko
Roxy Theatre, Hollywood, CA
Fri, Aug 29, 2008
8:00p
$20

Brooke Fraser
El Rey Theatre, Los Angeles, CA
Fri, Sep 12, 2008
8:00p
$22

Mandi Perkins
Troubadour, West Hollywood, CA
Thu, Sep 18, 2008
7:30p
$17

I wanna explode Watch me, I'm a lucky girl

-- Explode, by Uh Huh Her

I love Uh Huh Her. They make some darn good music, and they’re “underground” enough that tickets aren’t ridiculously priced. So I felt it was justifiable to spend $10 on their (first) full-length album, Common Reaction. I ordered it through their website, as it came with an advance download of the single, Not a Love Song. What I conveniently forgot, however, was that is also came with a signed album insert! Imagine my surprise when I open a letter-sized envelope and this tumbles out along with the CD:


Now, maybe it’s not a really big deal to those of you who don’t know of them (or who are less prone to random bouts of fangirl than myself), but I was inexplicably excited to see those Sharpie marks! So imagine my further surprise when I pulled this out of the envelope next:


I sort of gushed about it for a few minutes, in that oh-so-predictable vein of “OMG, that’s Camila Grey and Leisha Hailey! And they wrote my name!” Embarrassing though that may have been, I blame it mostly on the fact that I completely forgot that the album would be signed, and then the personalized photo came out of left field! No matter, I wear my UHH Fangirl badge with pride, yo.

Come to think of it, so should you. Srsly, go listen to them now. Dreamer, Covered and Common Reaction are good places to start. I would caution against the music video for Common Reaction, however, since the band seems to have been struck simultaneously by an ill-advised bout of 80’s nostalgia and retro-modernism. And unicorns.

But their music more than makes up for the occasional video mishap, and the fact that Leisha is part of the tiny contingent of actors-turned-musicians-that-don’t-suck just adds to the awesome. If you like ethereal-ish, sometimes semi-techno à la dance -- or even just plain ol’ good music -- put Uh Huh Her in your playlist. And then when you realize how great they really are, you can be jealous of my signed memorabilia.
____________________________________________________________________________

In other, oddly less exciting Signed Paper news, I got my diploma. It arrived in a nondescript cardboard envelope, and the whole affair lacked a certain ... excitement ... I think I was expecting. Something about waiting so long after the ceremony makes the diploma little more than beige cardstock with screen-printed calligraphy. I got all my official You Graduated paperwork ages ago, so this was a mere formality; I’m more proud of my final transcript than I am of this thing. Is that weird? Regardless, I can’t help the internal, “I graduated, and there’s not a thing you can do to take it back now!” every time I see the darn thing. Now that? I know is not unusual.

When will it stop?

-- Masochist, by Ingrid Michaelson

The crazy, that is. When will it stop? Let's discuss the numerous instances of crazy over the last week.

Monday: This day sucked. Well, the morning did. It was the beginning of Sans Boss Lady Week, as she was out on vacation. It sunk in on Monday that I'd be dealing with SBTL all week and that I still had no clue how to work this software that is absolutely central to my job. I was uber-frustrated with myself for being so dense about business and all its stupid procedures and financial ... stuff. Luckily, mommie talked me off the ledge, and I spent the rest of the day wading through tutorials and practice runs to learn the Damn Program.

Tuesday: SBTL is at my desk answering yet another of my questions re: the Damn Program. She explains, then turns to walk back to her desk.

*cue earthquake*

She takes off like a shot for the nearest sturdy object, which luckily was not far away. She looks back and forth between me and MA/WME* with the single most terrified look I have ever seen in person on her face. Poor thing. It probably wouldn't have been as funny as it was if she didn't insist on the Tough Broad attitude. Needless to say, the rest of the day was lost to Earthquake Freakout / Recap Time. Lunch with Sam was rushed and short because I was still shaken up. (See what I did there? Yay, puns.) Not so much from the earth moving, but from the "Oh, by the way. We have a last-minute, but SOOPER IMPORTINT project due nao. Go." I got from The Owner just before lunch. Sheesh, Tuesday was a wreck.

Wednesday: Has been nicknamed The Longest Day Known to Man Me. The crazy on this day? Nothing happened. I think I gave up and read at my desk at one point. I can't be sure because the sheer boredom of the day erased random parts of my memory. Dinner with Sam and Mush was the only thing that kept me from losing all my marbles.

Thursday: My immune system decides to take the day off. Luckily, Giggly has just gotten over her cold. Oh wait, no she hasn't.

I proceed to catch the remnants of her week-long cold and incubate them to within an inch of a full-blown cold of my own. I stave off completing the process of infection with massive amounts of Airborne (yes, I know about the lawsuit, no I don't care) and vitamin C. And some nose-swab thing that SBTL gave me. She must be warming up to me if she's willing to share her cold-fighting weapons with me, right?

Friday: The King of Crazy for the week. MA/WME asks me to call and order a brochure for her. We have the old ones, and we need new ones to show clients. I call, and find out two things:

1) The company is located somewhere in the South
2) EVERYONE is out of the office or away from their desks

So I send an e-mail to their Literature Request Department. In it I state that I need printed copies of the brochures, not the PDFs that they offer online. Only the best for our clients. I get a call back about an hour later from one of their representatives, who sounds like she's sixty and only has cats for friends. She just wants to confirm our shipping address so she can overnight the brochures.
This is how the conversation goes: (bear in mind this woman sports a ridiculously Southern accent)

Southern Salesgrandmalady: In your e-mail you mention that you want printed copies instead of-- what's this now? A pee. Dee. Ayf?
My Brain: *silence and flashbacks to "Shiny Disk" Man*
Southern Salesgrandmalady: A pee dee ayf? What's that now, honey?
My Brain: *still computing how to explain a PDF in simple terms to someone who doesn't know*
Southern Salesgrandmalady: Hello?
Me: Um, it's like a ... picture ... of a document. Does that. Make. Sense? Like the ... digital ... brochures you guys have on your website.
Southern Salesgrandmalady: Oh, sure sure. So I'll send you them brochures overnight, sugar.
Me: Thanks? *has no idea what she's going to get in the mail now*

The girls and I laughed about that ALL DAY. I understand being a bit of a luddite, but if you can turn on your computer and open an e-mail, surely you know what a PDF is. Am I wrong?

Saturday: Shirley. 'Nuff said.


Whew! So there it is, the week in review. And looking back, I think I don't want the crazy to stop. Well, except for Monday's crazy. Good riddance to that.

Sorry if this was boring and long-winded. At least you got the Reader's Digest version, I had to live it! ;)
____________________________________________________________________________

* = MexicAsian / Worst Mexican Ever, the office nickname for this woman, not mine. She hates tortillas, can't cook and won't eat spicy food. Her own mother branded her the Worst Mexican Ever. And apparently Giggly decided she has Asian eyes, thus MexicAsian was born. They were both too good to pick just one blog alias for her.

Jump in my car, we'll go 100 around the bends

-- 100 Round the Bends, by Missy Higgins

Two disclaimers here.

1. We will not be going 100 mph. Ever. I don't like getting tickets.
2. This is the car you'll be jumping in:


That's right, folks. I got myself a nice new set of shiny shiny wheels. And it was about time, too. Denny Crane served me well through most of college, but he's 11 years and 170k miles old and seriously rough around the edges. Anyone who has had the distinct pleasure of driving with us in the last several months is aware of the state of disrepair into which good ol' Denny has fallen. Or, more accurately, has been in since before I inherited him. He recently started mumbling something about needing new brakes and an electrical system thisclose to short-circuiting in the middle of my morning commute.

"But Erin, what about all that talk of getting a Smart Car?" Well, ever-observant readers, that dream was quickly squashed upon discovering that the wait for a Smart Car is nine months, easy. Since Denny's brakes were not nearly that long for this world, my mom and I thought it would be best to circumvent that cost by looking for more available alternatives. Enter Shirley.


Alan Shore: Shirley? What about senior partners? There would be nothing wrong with me, lusting, say, after ... you? Would there?
Shirley Schmidt: Go subscribe to National Geographic. Make a list of the places you'll never get to visit. Add to that list, Schmidt.
-- Boston Legal

Yes, my new car is named after the inimitable Shirley Schmidt. The snarky, intelligent, sane counterpoint to Denny Crane. And played by the equally-awesome Candice Bergen. Keeping the naming scheme within the Boston Legal line was a simple decision. Denny Crane (the car) embodies everything that Denny Crane (the lawyer) is. Both were lovable, had Mad Cow Disease and were embarrassingly unpredictable. And while Shirley (the car) is considerably younger, even in car years, than Shirley (the lawyer) is, she hits all the other points of similarity. She's quick-witted and cool; unshakable in her confidence. The exact opposite of Denny.

So, while I still love him dearly, I do need to find a new home for Denny. If anyone's looking to score a cheap vehicle in need of a few repairs, let me know. Denny's flaws are mostly cosmetic, although he does need new brakes, like, yesterday. He's taped up in all the cracks that threaten to ruin the electrical when it rains, so there are probably a couple thousand good miles on him yet. If I'm honest, though, I'm pretty sure he'll make his last change of ownership into the hands of a charity. Which I think would be a wonderful way to go. He will be happier frolicking in the big junkyard in the sky than he ever was sitting in LA traffic. Rest in Peace, Denny Crane. You were awesome.

The Photograph

When: 06.21.2008
Where: Still sitting in the lobby of the Sheraton Hotel in downtown Seattle

They had come here to celebrate. And to document every second of the festivities so that their time could be remembered with something as close to clarity as the years would allow.

The four of them, friends since childhood, had managed to escape the clutches of higher education with only a few scars to serve as unwelcome reminders of unhappy times. Being separated by states and time for the last four years had been trying, but the pact they’d made the day they threw their caps in the air echoed in every second until – in different places this time around – they repeated the ritual with black caps. And so, they had come here to make good on that promise they’d made to enjoy life as soon as they were able.

Gathered in the lobby of their hotel, they paused to appreciate the milestone they had just checked off their lists. And the gravity of what was bound to happen after this last jaunt before a whole new reality set in came calling. Looking around, they located just what they’d been searching for. They handed the man a camera, and he nodded in understanding.

Sitting there – the four of them shoulder-to-shoulder for the hundredth, and now maybe last time – they smiled and blinked at the flash.

They all waited just a second longer than necessary before lifting arms from around shoulders.

First, Look Up

Note: The only rule I had for myself while writing these little oddities was this:
Do not edit. Write it as it comes, spelling and grammar be damned.

That said, I have taken the liberty of changing/adding/deleting one or two words in the transcription from moleskine to blog. I can't help myself, but at least it's written someplace in unadulterated originality.

All of these have evolved from an observation, whether I wrote the story of before or after. I figured that would stave off excessive self-indulgence, so please tell me if this tactic has failed. The whole point of doing this is to get over a fear of both publishing and criticism. Here, I look to you. :)

When: 06.21.2008
Where: Sitting in the lobby of the Sheraton Hotel in downtown Seattle

The city certainly knows how to make an impression.

Fresh off the plane from a place melting in an unwelcome, but not altogether unusual heatwave, the first thing I notice are the clouds. Though they are a token of identity more than a mere weather phenomenon here, they are not nearly as depressing as I expected them to be. They move slowly across the sky, like pillowy leaves riding a wide blue stream. Faster than the clouds back home, their journey across the skyline is like the steady soothing noise of a fan in the background; just enough to prevent suffocating in idleness. The clouds here play a soft counterpoint to the glaring sun I’m accustomed to. And I decide theirs is a melody I could quickly begin to love.

Here I am, insecure for now

-- This is Only for Now, by Charlotte Sometimes

One: My secondary boss-type lady (SBTL from here on out), the one I was convinced hated me at first but has been slowly warming up to me, is crazy. It’s a very long, very complicated story, but the gist of it is something like this:

- SBTL asks me to keep track of this flood of warranties that vendors are e-mailing to us.
- I decide to create a spreadsheet to organize the relevant data. Vendor name, product, date warranty was received, who sent it, etc.
- I show said spreadsheet to SBTL before she leaves, so she knows which vendors we have yet to hear from.
- SBTL calls me an overachiever.
- Cue massive WTF? moment, while I try not to shrivel up from the emotional cramping.

She said it like she was joking, but she wasn’t. The term “passive-aggressive” comes to mind. And yet, I still maintain that she abhors my very existence a little less every day. Okay, maybe every week. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.

Two: My giggly co-worker (we’ll call this one Giggly), who is basically spearheading the effort to integrate me into the circle, invited me to her birthday party this weekend. At a club. And I said I’d go. Let’s recap, shall we?

- I don’t really know any of these women, though they are all genuinely sweet to me.
- I’ve never been to a club, nor do I have any real desire to.
- Drinking is at the bottom of my fun scale. It’s the title of theirs.

Oh my, this will certainly be memorable. I am tentatively forecasting good stories when I return. :)

Three: I LOVE this job. It’s unreal how much fun I’m having. And I harbor no delusions about the fleeting nature of this feeling, but I’m going to enjoy it while I can. So I would like to take this opportunity to thank the gods of luck for the generosity they have bestowed upon me, yet again. *genuflects*

I'm from a land called Secret Estonia

Nobody knows where it's at, no
Nobody knows where it's at
-- Creepshow, by Kerli

(It's here, between Russia and Sweden, btw.)

Obviously, I’m not from Estonia. Secret or otherwise. My latest musical obsession, however, is.

Meet Kerli.

Kerli - Walking On Air (Official Video)

Her latest (first?) album is called Love is Dead, and it is pretty much made of solid awesome. Although Kerli has been somewhat accurately compared to Björk, the likeliness exists in vocal styling alone. There’s a gravelly-but-not-too-deep quality about their voices that is unique enough to catch your attention and plant you firmly in “love it” or “hate it.” But unlike Björk, Kerli’s music is a bit less edgy in its composition. It’s definitely got that same air of techno to it, but she fits nicely into the pop/rock genre, with a healthy dose of Goth that bands like Evanescence only wish they could achieve. And I love me some Amy Lee, don’t get me wrong, but this stuff is just so much more ... creepy.

In interviews, Kerli has mentioned growing up in a culture where you showed your love for your children by beating them every night after school, and twice on Sundays. She writes songs about being positive in the face of too-tough-love and Communism, and being who you are no matter what people say. Even if you happen to be a little creepy. Perhaps especially then.

Trust me when I tell you to go forth and has. Srsly.

Artist: Kerli
Album: Love is Dead
Start Here: Walking On Air, Bulletproof, Up Up Up

"Am I a complete raving lunatic ...

or have we not been paid ANYTHING in three weeks?"
"Can't both be true?"
-- Wild Writer (Bobcat Goldthwait) and Father Writer (Robert Klein), Radioland Murders

Payday? Is awesome. Now I remember why working doesn't suck twice a month.

Actually, I think I'm still in the honeymoon phase with The Nine-to-Five (which is actually the Eight Thirty-to-Five Thirty). I spent most of last week out in the field at a brand new site, meeting a trillion new people and generally not knowing what the hell was going on. When they said they were going to train me for the Project Manager position, I think what they meant was, "we're going to throw your ass into the deep end of the rat race. And if don't drown, you can has higher pay bracket! Isn't that nice?"

My boss is trying desperately to take the time to explain what she's doing and why, but she's so busy keeping tabs on EVERYTHING that's going on, sometimes she forgets. She talks out loud to keep her mind focused on the higher priority things, but I can never tell if she's talking to herself or addressing me. Which means I stare at her like the clueless greenhorn I am until she either tells me what she wants me to do in layman's terms or tells me to ignore the rambling.

But the bloom is definitely still on the rose. Everyone down at the office has been amazingly nice to me, and very tolerant of my endless barrage of questions. Even the one woman that I was convinced hated me has been kinda, in her own way warming up to me. I spend more time out of the office than in, and even though I've been told that's unusual and not to get used to it, I am having tons of fun learning the ropes and meeting people. Here's to hoping this trend continues for a while longer!
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Also, WHERE THE BLOODY HELL ARE MY 30 Rock DVDs?! I cannot find them anywhere, and I am immensely saddened. Blerg.

Hello, I've had you on my mind

For hours, there's no doubt
No use wasting time
Hello, by Tristan Prettyman

So, I've toyed with the idea of starting a blog ever since my typography teacher suggested it as a means of overcoming some hideous anxiety about my writing. Then Kami suggested it as a type of newsletter to keep the Six Musketeers in the loop of every one's hectic lives. What results here is a mash-up of the two. For the fistful of you (see: Kami) who read this thing, expect equal parts boring life story and bad creative writing. Feel free to comment on either. Please note that the writings I post here are copied directly from my moleskin, where they were written exactly as I thought them. I haven't edited them, which is part of what I was told to do to help with my squeamishness every time I pick up a pen. We'll see how that goes.
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Post-Script: All of my posts (except the writings) will be titled with quotes from various places. If the words are from a song, then there will be a link that points to a download. If they're from a story or other written material, the link will lead you to more info on the source. Sound good?
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Post-Post-Script: I should probably let everyone know what the final tally in my mommie's Adventure of the Great Gangrenous Gallbladder of '08 was. Mommie: 1. Gallbladder: DED.

After the ER doctor sent her home Tuesday night with a cool, "your gallbladder isn't distended -- despite everyone but me being sure it is -- so go home and have fun writhing in pain," her oncologist told her to march back to the hospital. They had been sent strict orders to admit her, what with the trial chemotherapy she was on having a 45874329.6% success rate in DESTROYING patients' gallbladders. Several tests and a wowed surgeon later, and the diagnosis was official: mommie had gangrene. In the (of the?) gallbladder. Sweet. At least, that's what the surgeon said.

Apparently, the guy had never seen such a horrid case of dedness, and was naturally thrilled at the procedure he was about to perform, however simple. Since UCLA is a teaching hospital, he documented the surgery well so that all the little interns could see what happens when a patient is denied a common operation. Repeatedly.

The end result is that mommie comes home tomorrow, sans gallbladder, but feeling much better. Woot!!