Merry Christmas!

Money grubbing... sons of... santa clause never...



That is me being curmudgeonly about Christmas. Actually, I had quite a pleasant Christmas, thankyouverymuchforasking. Here is evidence. Not proof, just evidence.



This is a picture of our kind of withered, dried up old tree that would not drink any of its water. It looked a lot better two weeks ago, trust me. Santa Claus brought a lot of Hot Wheels this year. Which was great, because I love Hot Wheels and they were all for me. And they were all hot for me, too. Because I am Hot Stuff. I let my nephew play with the Hot Wheels for a few minutes between the time when I let my dad and brother play with them.

As you can see, I've changed my blog a little bit. You know, ringing in the new year and all that what what.


One of the newest links you can click on to your left is my flickr page which includes a few photographic likenesses of friends and family alike. I hope to upload more pictures soon but I just wanted to get the Christmas ones up asap. So for my auntie and my sister, you can see some Christmas pictures.


Oh, by the way, I got a new digital camera for Christmas so I can totally take pictures again. And video! Which is nice. I don't like to read directions so the video ability came as a surprise and instigated a little impromptu song and dance act with my dad and I. So now my dad will become famous on the internets for his dance. On the youtubes.

I'm glad that even though I completely mock the Christian faith and don't believe in their god and don't accept Jesus as my personal lord and savior, I am glad that they invented Christmas because I like it.

Speed Levitch: The New York City

I love this guy. Have you guys seen this movie? It is so great. Everyone should see this movie. I like the part where he says, "She was a fastidious judaic type woman in very sexual slacks." Mostly because I love the word slacks but the word and the noun the word represents are entirely unsexual in every possible way. Very sexual slacks.

Christmas Dance 2006-Gerald P.

This is a crappy movie that I made of my dad with my new digital camera.

Mandy Recommends: Check it out!

I recommend you take a long cold shower, dirty mouth.

I also recommend you rent The League of Gentlemen off your Netflix or whatever. If you don't have netflix, well then, fuck off. Or get it.

I also recommend that you paint your bedroom Navajo White. My coworker Angelina is painting her living room Navajo White. Is that like some kind of Indian joke? I think the native american paint company got sick of white people saying, "yeah, my grandpa was part Navajo" so they named a completely white paint "Navajo White." That is what I think happened.

Further Recommendations: That you be held back a year. You aren't ready for the 2nd grade.

And additionally: That you do something about that hair style. Did anyone see the Justin Guarini hair debacle pictures on Gofugyourself.com? Besides Frank, of course. Isn't that crazy? Check it out: http://www.gofugyourself.com Or click the link on my sidebar. Or just continue masturbating like I know you are, Steve.

Furthermore, I recommend this game for Steve - Civ City Rome. I am almost as addicted to it as regular civilization. On second thought, don't get that game. You have a wife and baby to take care of.

And in Summation: Christmas is coming, the goose has got a gut. Please, this holiday season, PLEASE put a penny in the old man's butt. If he hasn't got a butt then I don't know what. Just PLEASE, for Christ's sake, please put a penny in that old man's butt.

Hot Nights, Cool Sassafrass.

So I drove down on monday morning to Sunnyvale, hung out with the bro-in-law and the niece, then the sister. We ate a lovely dinner and then the sister and I hightailed it up to the City. San Francisco. The city that often sleeps. You know, just the recommended eight hours a night.

We got in line and then I got into another line. We looked at all the cool cats and I told a funny story about two twin sisters I knew in grade school who were like fun-house mirror images of each other because one was tall and pretty and one had something strange go wrong in her development and ended up really short and squat and ugly. And then my sister said, "Just like us!" Because she is a bitch. But she is pregnant and all fat right now so if it makes her feel better about herself to point out my shortcummings, since she is all fat and shit, then so be it.

Then we went inside and got in line to pee. One thing about pregnant ladies - they pee an awful lot. Boy howdy do they ever.

Then the show started!

First it was Michael showalter and he did some funny jokes and then gave a little slide show presentation from his laptop about about he went from a nice Princeton youth to a wanna be gangsta rapper. And it was very funny. My favorite thing he did was this air tambourine thing. And also when he tried to get the audience to heckle him and then made fun of them when they tried.

Then Michael Ian Black said some funny stuff for a while. It was hilarious! They were both very funny. I am loath to go into details here, however, because I don't feel like rehashing their jokes in an unfunny way. Just be comfortable knowing that the audience really loved them and so did I. Afterwards, my sister and I were first in line to have them sign DVDs of the Stella Shorts and so we got to stand really close to them and sort of talked about the opening of the boxes of DVDs and the signing of the DVDs. That was pleasant but it all went by so fast that I barely had time to really take them in up close. I will say that Michael Ian Black looked smaller and paler, almost jaundiced, upclose and personal and Michael Showalter was just about as disheveled as I imagined him to be. Michael Ian Black was much more calm and cool and nice about the autographs and stuff than Showalter was. Showalter looked like he might die from his efforts and did everything he could not to look people in the eye. Or maybe it was just me. I blamed my preggo sister because I think that a pregnant lady killed Showalter's dad when he was a boy and he has hated pregnant women ever since. Makes sense that he is not married and has no kids yet. Even though he is 36 years old. Makes me feel like a spring chucken.

All in all, it was pleasant and fun and funny and nice and I had a good good time. The best part was spending quality time with my niece, Ailsa, who loves me best. More than her own parents.

On a funny side note, you know the blog that I posted yesterday, you know the one about the gash, the sort of, kind of, in bad taste little story about nasty gash? Well since I mentioned Tina Fey's name in it this weird celebrity webpage thing about tina fey automatically linked to it in a section called Blogbuz or something like that. Here is the site - http://www.newsamericanow.com/profiles/tina-fey/

It isn't there now but it was yesterday and this morning and I got a few hits from it. Suddenly, I was embarrassed about what I had posted! Can you imagine!!

It was a fleeting moment of embarrassment and I am over it now. So my new strategy to get people who don't know me to read my blog is just to mention tina fey in each entry. And then say something horrible.

Tina Fey:Butt Butt, stinky butt. Farts. Assholes. Toilet Fucker. Vagina. Penis.

P.S. Tina Fey has breadcrumbs in her vag, per Michael Showalter.

P.S.S Tina Fey should cover up her vag. I am sick of looking at her lady patch all over town.

"Nasty Gash." AKA "Too Far."

Me: That is one nasty gash you have there.

You: Yeah, I know. I really need to do something about this nasty gash.

Me: Hey, I think that nasty gash might be infected.

You: Yeah. Yeast Infected!!! You know what I'm saying?

Me: Totally, dogg.

You: You see, another word for "vagina" is "gash." At least with some of the cool kids these days.

Me: Yeah, totally. Like that gash that Tina Fey has. I'd totally like to fuck that gash.

You: Totally.

Me: And like that character in that one movie.

You: Scarface?

Me: No you dumbshit!!! Who'd want to fuck that gash! Jesus Christ. You are fucking sick. You fucking sicko. Deeeeeamn! Seriously though, you really should go put some antiseptic on that gash.

You: Yeah, like some iodine or something.

Me: Yeah. Or just swab it with some alcohol.

You: Yeah, I really wanna swab it. Swab it good. Well, see you later!

Me: I doubt it, gash face.

Later, bitches

I promise to post all about my trip tomorrow. Tomorrow, bitches. I am too busy today. Too Busy! Stop hectoring me!

Don't tell me what you're putting in my lunch box.

Everybody is working for the weekend, so they say. I, on the otherhand, am working ON the weekend. They asked, I answered. The call. Because I always step up. Perserverance. That's my middle name. Prudence Perserverance Pisspants. I decided that the new baby name for little AAA the male version is Avid. As in, I am an avid reader. Also, as in David without the stupid D, which stands for Duh. Duh, David. Duuuuuuh. And it also stands for dumb. So in short, Avid, not David, Adams. Or Ansil. Avid Ansil Adams. Avid Advil Adams. Anvil Aesop Adams. Aooooga. Ancillary. Lary, for short. Aragorn. Oh god, I should not have suggested that. My sister is just enough of a dork to actually name her child Aragorn.

Speaking of the Adamseses, I am going to be visiting them shortly. Tomorrow, actually. Actually Adams. I will be driving to Yrethra this afternoon after work, much sleep deprived, as I have had to work at 6am on both these days of the sabbath and the sundath. My parents just remodeled their bathroom so I plan on spending most of the evening all up in there, a la Michael Ian Black in that one Stella Short called David's Cousin where he spends a long time in David's Cousin's bathroom, hilariously.

On Monday morning, at dawn, I will wake the townspeople in my usual fashion, running through the streets in my underpants and helmet, with my chainsaw, shouting "Day Time! Day Time!" And then I will most likely hit the road, jack, at, lets say, about, oh I don't know, 8:30 to 9:00-ish. I will make my way south to cloudyvale, realize I've gone too far, and turn back around to my intended destination, Sunnyvale, which is where the Adamseses make their home. Or is it mountainview now? I can't remember.

I will make my sister cut out of work early, play with her baby for a while, chit chat with the old Brother-In-Law, and then my sister and I will drive into the City. Night in the city looks pretty to me. Night in the city looks fiiiiiiiine. Perhaps we will grab a bite to eat. Perhaps we will drive around endlessly looking for parking and arguing. Perhaps we will find The Independent on Divisidero with no problem at all, park, eat, and then run into Michael Showalter and Michael Ian Black on our way to the show and they'll invite us to visit with them backstage after their acts if we promise to give them blowjobs. Perhaps.

Stranger things have happened. So shut up.

One time I was in the City with my sister she left her car unlocked and my purse got stollen along with her blackberry and some other stuff. That was really fun. We were meeting my aunty Peggy for dinner as she had a layover in SF on her way to Japanland. Good ol' Aunty Peggy. Always good for a good time. For a good time, call Aunty Peggy. For a bad time, park your car in the tenderloin, leave valuables in it, unlock it, and simply walk away. It is as easy as that. There are better ways to have a bad time, however, like contracting a sexually transmitted disease, or getting caught in a blizzard, or daterape. You decide.

I have a problem. Can someone tell me the rules again about its and it's and it is and it belongs to it? I never got this down and it has been driving me crazy! Don't worry about there and their and they're. I've got that down pat. It is just the its'ss'es.

Santa Fe, Are you there? It's me, Cowboy.

The title of this blog refers to my favorite movie musical, Newsies and also to the popular young adult novel, "Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret, The Fucking Bitch That Will Not Shut The Fuck Up Because She is Totally On The Rag." Enough said about that, I daresay. I daresay.

How is everyone? Good, good. I've really been letting myself go, artistically. However, I hope to experience a renaissance of blogging in the weeks ahead. A Bloggaissance, you might say. Only you better not because I totally made that word up right now and am copywriting it, post-haste. I am all done with my classes for this fall quarter in the year of our lord 1066. The Normans also just invaded, so I've got that to deal with. Which is nice. Actually, I believe the year is 2006. But not for long suckers! What are your new year's revolutions? Mine are: Stand up to the man, number 9, and 33 per minute. Oh! And Viva Columbia! I have a lot to live up to. I've set the bar high this year.

What am I reading? What music am I listening to? What movies have I seen lately? I've decided that discussing these things in a public forum is a trivial use of my time and does not contribute to my goal of Self-Actualization.
(The Corrections, Moxy Fruvous, and The Corporation, as of today)

The only real news I have is that I am being haunted by the ghost of Robert Altman and he is a fucking piece of work, let me tell you.

Also, I really hope to complete my post about the trip I took a month ago but I've been too lazy and impatient go back and listen to my tapes and remember stuff. I think that the folks I know from Humboldt would really like to read more about it since I didn't even get to the part where I was actually in Arcata. I suck. Maybe this weekend.

Additionally, only a few more days until I go to visit my sister and a certain duo of fellows whose careers I have followed since my high school hey days. (Mr. Showalter and Mr. Black, specifically) I am absolutely convinced that Showalter and I will probably meet and he will be instantly smitten by my charms. Charmingly disarmed by the ARM, which are my initials. Mr. Black is married, or so I read. Whatever. He is a dirty cunt anyway. He is a sloppy wet pussy that I can fuck. Nothing like some good sloppy wet pizza. God, I hope at least somebody reading this knows that I am quoting the Stella Shorts and not just saying those things arbitrarily. But I also hope that some people don't and think that I am one crazy dirty mouthed little girl. I'll post the video so people will know. Because the people should know!!!

High Times, Hard Times. Sometimes the Living is Sweet. And Sometimes There's Nothing to Eat. Buuuuut I Always Lands On My Feet!

I have had a rough couple of days. Ruff. Ruff, Ruff. Firstly, and mostly upsettingly, my little Chachi Wachi Rotchy Roy doggy dog ran away on tuesday. I left him in the morning at about 1030am, put him outside with his toys and his food and his water, all his comforts of home, and when I returned at 2pm, he was gone. I drove around the neighborhood for about an hour looking for him. I called work and told them I would be late. I called my brother and told him. I went to work with no Chachi safe at home. My brother looked for him when he got home at 5 and then just waited around the house, expecting him to return home. But he didn't. Tuesday night was the first really cold night of the winter and Ashland had a big snowstorm on Monday and Tuesday so I was really worried he would be frozen to death. Wednesday I had to go to class in the morning and just cried and cried all the way to school. But we called the animal care and protection people and gave them his description and my brother put a lost dog ad in the newspaper. My mom and grandma and jack came over wednesday afternoon and they put up signs around the neighborhood but he still hadn't come back yet. I left for work very worried and tired because I hadn't been able to sleep well the night before as I kept waking up thinking I could hear him at the door. Finally, while I was at work, he came home while my grandma and mom and brother were all home. I can't tell you how relieved I was. So, as I promised the fates, when he came home I killed him for putting me through all that.

We are eating well tonight!

All this is happening the week before finals week when I have two papers due and a group project and a million other stupid things to worry about finishing. Glad I killed that stupid dog.

Afoot, circle K, strange things

Thanks, Giving!

So here are some home movies my aunty made of thanksgiving - Click on this Link!

http://marbledog.com/stuff/tgiving2006/

or if you just want to see what I am thankful for click here

http://marbledog.com/stuff/tgiving2006/mandy.MPG

I recommend watching all the movies though. Because they are delightful.


Also, I'm going to see Michael Showalter and Michael Ian Black doing a little comedy, a little of the hush, a little of the bad, in San Francisco at The Independent on Divisadero on December 11th. Aren't you Jealous? You should be. You. You.

I chatted through Gmail with my old friend William Kenny G Evans last night and he told me that his boss is totally good friends with Old Michael Ian and Michael Just Michael and he told me his name so when I see them after the show I'm going to be all like "say hi to so and so for me" and they'll be like, "You know so and so?" and I'll be like, "Know him? He's my lover! But we just broke up so I am very alone and vulnerable and hows about you take me back to your hotel room and we can all play apples to apples."

Stella Shorts - Turkey Hunting

This year my family and I actually hunted for the turkey we would eat on thanksgiving day. Or "Toykey" as I call it. Yay!

Trip down Mammary Lane

So I got a strange call tonight.

But I'll need to go back in time. When I was a little girl I used to kick this one kid, Donny Parker, in the nuts almost every single day. I'd say we were in the third grade. And probably at least once a week, I would kick him square in the nuts. Right in the old Ball-Sack, as we would say back in the school yard. I'm not proud of this behavior and I'm not sure why I did it. I think some of the other girls did it too. And it isn't that I didn't like this kid or that he was some kid of social pariah of any kind. I just thought it was funny to kick old Donny right in the nuts. In the testes, so to speak. Right all up in there. Sometimes from behind when he wasn't even expecting it. When he couldn't even see it coming.

Well it turns out that about 5 years ago little Donny married an old high school chum of mine and they've been trying to have children for last 3 years or so without any luck. I guess they've been to all sorts of fertility doctors and stuff. Anywho, to make a long story short, it turns out that Donny is the one whose love rockets aren't making it to ground zero, so to speak. Flight 93 in Donny's pants keep crashing in Pennsylvania instead of making it to the old Pentagon, if you catch my drift.

So tonight I get this call from Donny and he sounds a little drunk and he tells me "Thanks a lot for kicking me in the balls all those times, Mandy." And then he went on and told his whole sob story and told me that his doctor told him that it is very likely that his infertility may have to do with the repeated trauma that his balls suffered all those many years ago. And then he just sort of started yelling and angrily sobbing curses at me over the phone. I was sort of half listening because I was trying to find my hand held recording device so I could get this conversation on tape because, man, this shit was golden! But I couldn't find it in time and Donny hung up the phone after calling me a fucking whore-bitch or something like that. At first I actually though he said "Crummy Orbitz" and I was all like what?

It is probably for the best though. Those kids would've probably turned out retarded or something.

I'm puttin the moves on You!!!

You're Bacon!!

New from MTV's The State

This is for You.

Trip to the Moon Part 2 - Mad Eyed MandyMoon

Continuation of previous post. Also, I wanted to mention how angry I am that my new favorite show, Studio 66 on the sunset Strip has Dawn from the english office in it and she is WOEFULLY underused. WOEFULLY!!!!! It makes me really angry. I like Amanda Peet and Sara Paulsen as much as the next person. I love Chanandler Bong and Bradly Whitford and D.L Hughly. Little Cordray boy is adorable. And Timothy Busfield = Television gold. I even love Wings Guy. A lot. He is great. The cast is great. Great great great. We get it. I am Aaron Sorkin and I can assemble a cast to rival the gods. But what is the point of having such a great cast if most of them get like 2 minutes of screen time and no promise of any kind of story line until season 5? And what about that other lady cast member who apparently does it with Chanandler when his girlfriend brakes up with him. Who the hell is she? She sucks! Make Dawn the one that Chanandler has sex with when his girl friend breaks up with him. I mean, christ.

Back to the travelog blog.

2:11: Well, it’s about 5, no (laughs) I mean 2:11 now and, uh, I'm, um, still in between Medford and Grants Pass. Still have quite a ways to go but my radio station is decidedly unlistenable at this point so I thought now would be a good time to mention the things that I done brought with me. Or I done brung with me, I'm sorry. My grammar, I've been studying for this GRE and my grammar is all fucked up. Um, oohhh, by the way, I'm just passing on my right hand side, maybe I can find a picture of this too, (I didn't) this really neat barn thing that looks all Russiany Orthodoxy. It’s got one of those ball gold Hershey kissy thingies on the top and it’s blue and it’s got the Virgin Mary painted on one side. Um, you know, I don't think that the Virgin Mary could hit the broad side of a barn if she was uh, like, pitching a baseball. But apparently she is okay to put her image on the broad side of a barn. Although, not, not very, uh, what's the word, um, when there's a miracle? Miraculous. Because I think someone just painted it on there. It’s not like it just appeared out of nowhere. I mean, fuckin-A man. She couldn't, she couldn't, she couldn't project her miracle image onto the broad side of a barn. (laughs.) That’s how inaccurate (laughs) the Virgin Mary is. (laughs) Oh man. That’s a good one. That’s goin' in the, that's goin in the blog. Um, anyway, so I brought some, I, first I picked up some snacks at the old, at the old, oh this car wants to pass me, at the old Fred Meyer. I got this recorder thing, I got that turkey baguette and I got some sugar free melelo cookies which sound good for diabetics but actually, um, have almost just about as many, maybe a little bit less, carbohydrates. So the effects of the sugars just take a little bit longer but basically affect my blood sugar in the same way. So, but it makes me feel better and it has fewer calories so it won't, my ass won't get ass fat. Um, I also bought some water and a sugar free vanilla latte which actually is virtually sugar free. It does have lactose in it from the milk but it’s, it’s not too much. And some dried apricots because those are delicious. And, number 1 they’re delicious, number 2, they’re dried so they don't go bad so I can just keep them in my car for the whole trip. Good for emergencies. If I'm dying I can always have that and I don’t have to worry about taking it out or anything. Just leave it in here. Um, anyway, for the CDs that I have to choose here, let’s see here, it’s hard to hold this tape recorder and drive and read my cds but you know what? If anyone can, I can. If anyone can, I can. So the first one (laughs) is Billy Gillman's stellar CD, um, which he has yet to top in his young life, “One Voice.” Um, I believe it came out in the early Ots, maybe the late 90's. Um, just a fabulous, fabulous CD that I recommend to anybody who, um, who, uh, is into young boys singing country hits. There's one song on it that is pure genius called The Snake Song which I recently sang in Portland at a little place called Grandma's during their, um ,karaoke hour, karaoke weekend at the suicide shack. Um, so that’s a good one. I might, I might, I'll probably wait for that one because that’s my sing-along CD. I always have to have a sing-along CD that I can sing along to. But I don't like to start the sing-along CDs too soon because then my voice becomes very hoarse and we don't want a hoarse voice when we're driving into Arcata if you know what I mean, and I think you do. Uh, second, oh this is another sing-along CD. God, I’m suddenly getting embarrassed by this but I guess I can just cut it out if I'm too embarrassed. The second CD that I brought was The Indigo Girl's self titled album “The Indigo Girls,” which has their hit on it, “Closer to Fine.” Uh, I enjoy the indigo girls up to a point. Uh, they kind of get on my nerves but all in all good music, good songs, very good harmonies, and fun for me to sing along with. Um, I got this album when I was about, my sister bought it for me when I was maybe 12 or 13 and I listened to it obsessively for about the next um, well how old am I now? So, many years. The next one is an album that my buddy Justin Timberlake, aka Mr. Magina, burned for me called, a band called Calexico, an album called the black light album. A very good album. Haven't listened to it TOO much so I'm not really familiar with all the songs on it but it is very mellow cool music that I enjoy with a little bit of a mariachi kind of a, kind of a swing to it. On a side note, the de la Fuentes, my neighbors growing up in Yreka, had a lot of family who lived in the, the town, the border town of Calexico which of course is an amalgamation, a blend if you will, of the two words of “collects” and “eco” which is one who collects ecosystems. And that’s what they do down there, they uh, they uh, have a lot of biodomes. And a lot of Pauly Shore movies have been filmed there. Jury Duty…Biodome… And Others. Uh, the next one is David Bowie’s album “Chchchchchchchanges” which is also another very good album, also another album that Justin burned for me. I have a couple David Bowie albums other than this one that were mine before this one that included a whole bunch of, like a collection of his stuff that my friend Becky burned for me so some of these songs I already knew but some of these songs were kind of new to me and uh, he's uh... David Bowie. Uh, then I have uh, St Elsewhere. The album, the the big summer album by Gnarls Gbarkley. Awesome album. Pick it up, uh, walk don’t run. Cause its really, you could probably wait until it gets on sale. Um. But other than the huge crazy Crazy hit for the summertime it’s got some really good songs including a cover of a Violent Femmes song. Um. Then I have a burned cd that I made. I, um, I entitled it Knick Knacks and Bricka Bracks. I actually intended to give it to Justin and Alicia once they had their baby because it’s got a lot of kinda kid friendly songs on it but I liked it so much that I kept it. It actually says that they are songs for the cry baby in all of us.
(tape runs out)

2:20: Okay so that happened, the tape just ran out. And I'm only just at Grants Pass right now and I also just fuckin' missed my exit so I'm gonna need to fuckin’ like concentrate a little bit on this shit and not talk so much. Uh, so, I'll catch you maybe, its about 5:20 right now, so I'll catch you maybe in like an hour. So maybe when I get to Gasguet. Okay bye. Unless something crazy happens. Then I'll have to say something. But I'll make it quick.

Road Trip to the Moon Part 1 - Spooning the Moon

This is the first installment of an actual (as much as I can manage) transcript from my road trip. Everything was recorded on a store bought recording device. I thought about making the recording device out of wires and gumption or about ordering it from a catalogue but in the end I thought just going out and blowing some bucks on it would "fix" my "fix" as in help me get over the desire I had just before this trip for a voice recording device. And our scene begins.

November 2nd, 2006

Me: Testing Testing 123

About 1:45pm: Whelp, I'm drivin' outta town. Drivin out of Medford, Oregon.

I got, I got a baguette from Fred Meyer with turkey on it. It’s a, uh, turkey baguette, is what it’s called. Um. Headed out to Humboldt County USA. Humboldt County California USA. Listening to some rockin' tunes on 96.9 The Rogue, which is the rogue valley's place for alternative music. Little bit ago they had the nineties noon which was a blast from the past, if you know what I mean. Um. Played some good songs. Now I don't know, not so much. Soon as it gets buzzy - (radio identifies itself, I speak along) “ninety six nine The Rogue.” Soon as it gets buzzy I'm gonna put on a CD of some kind. I have quite a selection that I brought with me and perhaps later you’ll hear some song stylings. (Gasps) My favorite song! (sings along with radio) “My father took me into the city to see a marching band.” I was, funny, cause I was gonna blog about this song. Now it’s on. (singing again) “Will you be the savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned?” (spoken) yes I will be. (singing again) “Will you defeat them, your demons. (spoken) and all the non believers, the plans that they have made. One day, I'll leave you a fair sum to lead you,” A phantom? Oh man this song is so good. It’s like a smashing pumpkins song only it’s not the smashing pumpkins. Its better then the smashing Pum Kings. Well no, but it’s pretty good. Uh, that’s it for right now cause I got some other shit I gotta attend to but if I have a thought you'll be the first to know.

A short time later: Oh man, this fucking baguette is so good. Driving past Table Rock now. And so I thought that might be a good thing to mention because it is a very pretty Table Rock and if I remember, well, and this will remind me, I will post a picture of it, um, cause I should be able to find a picture of it on the internet. I’m gonna try to make this a pictorial of types even though I don't have a camera with me because my fucking camera I bought broke. Fucking bitch. Camera. ass. By the way, I'd like a camera for Christmas.


A short time later: Oh and second by the way, I'm driving north on I-5 or "the 5" out of Medford. My plan is drive to Grants Pass, take highway, I think its 199, uh, west to Crescent City and then take highway 101 down from Crescent City to good old Arcata California. (burp) I'm pretty excited about that. Excuse me, I burped.


Minutes later: I don't know if this is a continuation of the nineties noon thing retro hour. They just played a new song by My Chemical Romance, my new favorite song which I don't know the name of. I'll look that up on the internet too though, so you can see that. (Welcome to the black parade) But now they're playing Nirvana and I love this song too and I think, I think that I, I think about Nirvana a lot more than people probably think I do. I think about them probably maybe every day, maybe every day, maybe every other day, but definitely a few times a week at the least for some reason, which is more than I think about a lot of bands that I listen to a lot. I think about them a lot. I kind of love them.

A few minutes later: Oh, the colors in the trees are colorful, vibrant and um, like um, kinda like, kinda like 70s, like a close up of a 70's shag carpet that’s got lots of different like browns and greens and oranges and yellow threads all mixed in to make kind of like a patchworky kind of color. Um, as I recall I think the bullocks might have had a carpet like that? Anyways, that’s what it’s like.


Moments later: I fuckin’ hate this fucking “why you calling me,” “eyes of an angel” fuckin’ song. I, it’s always on this channel up here, this station, and I fucking hate it. (singing) “the next room, blah blah blah it were you.” You know what song I’m talking about? I fucking hate it.

2:07: I just decided I should be timing these little posts so, um, let’s see what time it is. My clock in my car is all fucked up so it’s like three hours fast and then like seven minutes slow. So right now it says its five o’clock which means that it’s actually 2:07. I left about just a little bit before two. I left Medford maybe about ten to two so, uh, it’s about 2:07 now and um next time I have something else to say I'll put a time stamp on it so that I can refer back to that time.

A few minutes later: Note to self, look for pictures on the internet of fall grants pass area North Medford/Grants Pass area. Very pretty. On the internet.

(couldn't find a really good one but this is sort of what it looks like)


Next installment coming soon. Swoon. Moon. June.

Tittle-izacious.

I thought that a funny joke would be just to keep posting something every day that just references a great post that is coming soon but then never actually post anything of interest or note. So thats what I'm going to do. actually, the post that I'm exited about is nearly finished. Just a few more finishing touches. Touch ups. Feel ups. Up yours. Nobody listened to techno!

Alls it is is a transcript of some recordings I made on my trip. No big woop.

I have so much to tell you!

Have I got a tale for you, boy, hoo boy! I'm a little busy right now so hopefully I'll get around to it sometime tonight. Hopefully. Or tomorrow. God Willing. You can't rape the willing. Or as my brother says, you can't rape the willie. Au Contrare, mon amie.

funnyman

I just came up with a great comedy routine about how I used to be a professional heckler before I became a comedienne. It is golden, dudes. Golden. I'm thinking of taking the act on the road. The last part of the joke is that after I explain how one becomes a professional heckler and how I personally would go about heckling I explain that most nights, near the end of the comedian's act I would yell out, "You're not so funny! Any fucking idiot could get up and do what you do, Mr. Funny Pants!" And then I indicate with arm movements and facial expressions that that is EXACTLY WHAT I DID. and then I say, "So THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I DID." Pretty great, eh? Its better live. You have to be there, so to speak. Well, I'm off to piss on the old farmers market here in the plaza and then drive to E-Town for a quick look about and then drive back to Orrygone for some sweet sweet oregon ass.

Well, Well.

Well well well. Well, I'm off to the robot parts factory, AKA, Humboldt County Country Bears Jamboree, Froggy. I've packed my banjo and my fruit rollups all up inside my napsack, I've napped, I've sacked my nanny, and I've snacked. I'm all up for some sap, some rap, some frappes. That's right, I'm on the road again, willie nelson style, with permed hair and a taste for radishes that will only be sated by snacking on some radishes. Oh yeaaaaah. So, for all you hooligans out there, partaking in your hoooolanagism, I'll catch you on the the flip side. AKA, Arcata Town, aka the town that puts the hip hop in the hippie hop. Boyeee.

Actually, I'm headed to the coast in order to partake in my GREs. Which stands for, of course, Gee Are Eee. Or something like that. Gone Rith Ewind. Grand Rolled Epry. Grotch Rot, Easily. I can't remember. I hope it isn't on the test. Wish me luck!

You are in for such a treat, by the way, for I will be posting some really great things here shortly.

France!

Have a scary Chanukah!

Mike S: Hi. You know, sometimes with all this holiday hustle and bustle, it can be easy to forget the true meaning of Halloween. We observe Halloween to celebrate the birth of Christ. And in celebration of his birth, many traditions have been handed down through the years.

Ben: The hiding of the eggs.

Kevin: The annual pilgrimage to Mecca.

Mike S: Halloween is a day to bring your daughter to work.

Ben: Or your secretary.

Kevin: And it's the biggest shopping day of the year!

Mike S: But most of all, Halloween is a time for young people to gather together spreading holiday cheer by lighting bags of their own crap on fire, ringing the doorbell, and running away. So America, Happy Halloween, or as we like to call it, Chanukah.

All: Have a scary Chanukah!

I am a self absorbed Whore, I am a self absorbed Whore. Who am I? That's the ticket. I am a self Absorbed Whooooooore! a-cha-cha(jazz hands)

ME ME! Meme.

My name?:

Where did we meet?:

Take a stab at my middle name:

How long have you known me?:

When is the last time that we saw each other?:

Do I drink?:

What was your first impression of upon meeting me/seeing me?:

What's one of my favorite things to do?:

Am I funny?:

What's my favorite type of music?:

Can I sing?:

What is the best feature about me?:

Am I shy or outgoing?:

Am I a rebel or do I follow the rules?:

Do I have any special talents?:

Would you call me preppy, average, sporty, punk, hippie, glam, nerdy, snobby, or something else (what)?:

Am I hot? Am I not? Go ahead, you can say it... :

Have I seen you naked?:

Have you ever hugged me?:

Kissed me?:

What is my favorite food?:

Have you ever had a crush on me?:

Am I dating anyone?:

If there was one good nickname for me, what would it be?:

What's your favorite memory of me?:

Who do I like right now?:

What is my worst habit?:

If you and I were stranded on a desert island, what is the one thing I would bring?:

Are we friends?:

Do you want us to be more than friends?:

Do I believe in God?:

Am I family oriented?:

Who is my best friend?:

What kind of car do I drive?:

Will you repost this so I can do it?:

Also, I have a new theory about the old television. I don't watch it anymore. Instead, I wait for time to heal all wounds and then I watch the reruns of the best shows or I just pick up the dvd and watch all the episodes at once on any given weekend in the future. That way, fewer papercuts. Actually, that isn't true. More time in the NOW to get stuff done. Thaaaat's the ticket.

Also, I have good news and I have even better news. The good news is that instead of a Phd in stupid literature I'm applying for a some phd programs for Drama. For like dramatic criticism and theory and all that stuff. Because that is where my HEARTLIGHT is. And you have to follow your heartlight. The better news is that now I don't have to take the single subjects literature GRE and I don't have to have a 25 page writing sample. Just like a 15 page writing sample. Which is muuuuch more managable. Plus, I think with my experience and your good looks I'll have a much better chance at getting into a drama phd program then a literature one. Also, yesterday this guy I have a crush on at work, who I call "Hospital Hippie guy" called me, "the cute girl at the imaging counter." and said that he has to circumnavigate the globe that is the hospital I work at in order to make his way around the the area where "the cute girl at the the imaging counter" works. I am so great. I'm already planning our wedding. Save the date!

Schools I know for sure I am applying to so far:

U of Washington in Seattle so I can be best friends with my aunty tuney and my little baby cousin maggie and so I can say mean things to bucky.

U of Oregon, because Oregon is my state and that way I don't have to get a new drivers license.

U of california at Berkely, because I won't get in but it is worth trying so that Sara and I can finally be together.

U of Ca at Santa Barbara, because my mentor and advisor and generally awesome teacher Dr. Alma went there and they have a pretty good program.

U of Ca at San Diego, because I've always wanted to go there, but I know I won't get in because they only accept like 2 phd people a year versus the other schools that accept like 10-20.

I think I'm just going to stick to the west coast. But I might go crazy and start looking toward the east.

Underpants and whether the weather be cold.

The weather be cold and rainy. We'll be together whatever the weather, whether we like it or not.

I saw a play in Yreka with my popso this weekend called Underpants. It is a german play that steve martin adapted. Needless to say, Steve Haske would have found it delightful. Needless to say. One of my old highschool chums was in it and he was really great. Really the best part of the show by all accounts. And the play itself is very funny. Funny enough that even a dead monkey without a brain could have made me laugh if he somehow figured out a way to deliver the lines of the play.

And I miss summer. I would like a couple more days of nice fall weather. Without rain, thanks. So take care of that for me, kay? Also, I really recommend that L.I.E movie I oh so breifly posted about before. Really really. Also, I'm stressed out because I'm supposed to be taking the GRE in like 2-3 weeks or something and I've barely even prepared at all. Also, I was supposed to ask for the time off because I'm taking them at Humboldt and I haven't yet. Also, my old boss from my old cardiology job is now my new boss at my hospital job. What a crazy world. The more things change, and all that.

Glocked and Loaded

downloaded itunes, downloaded season one of THE STATE, jizzed in my pants 10 times.

Beat it.

Having watched recently:




Matchpoint







L.I.E







A History of Violence









The Devil and Daniel Johnston













And having read about half of



I have come to conclude that you stink.


Also, TV is great. School is stupid. Work is dumb. Some peopl are sick, winter is fast on my heels. Oh, and also, You stink.

Avoidance

Yes, it is you that I'm avoiding. You.

Just kidding. Just joshin' around with you. You, you.

So some movies I've watched recently are A funny thing happend on the way to the forum, V for vendetta, Thumbsucker, The Rules of Attraction, Jackass the Movie Number 2, Covenent, Wordplay, Noam Chomsky's Manufacturing Consent, scary movie 4, and probably something I've forgotten. I really liked the rules of attraction and wordplay. In fact, since I saw wordplay I've become a bonafied crossword puzzle nut. I've entered a deep deep hole that I'll never dig myself out of. The hole of crossword puzzles. But I am in good company.

School started this week and I'm taking spanish, biology, and a linguistics class.

Some people had some babies: http://www.hasskiss.blogspot.com

You know, the three little babies that are boys that I know now are Kolchack Russell Murphy, aka Jack, Declan Jack Byrne, aka Dec, and Henry Huckleberry Haske, aka Huck. Does anyone see the trend? I think they should all get together and form a band called "DeJaHu?" It will be a boy band. Oh, and my sister is having a boy so we have to think up names that start with A but can end in ck. like Ack! or A-rack. or AlasandAlack. Alec. There. Problem solved. I'd like to make it a true daily double, Alec. Ohhhh Ohhh!!! Atticus and you can call him Attic for short. and then you can have him look down his own shirt and spell his name. and also you can train him to attack. Attic! Attack! Atticus Adams. I like it.

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Port-Land

Land of Ports.

I'm in Portland Oregon today, visiting an old chum of mine. I went to see her play yesterday, Orestes, which was quite amusing despite a very serious and dreary start. It turned out to be a comedy! Who knew! Afterwards I went with her and much of the cast to a pub kind of place called Micky Finns where both beer battered and unbattered beer items were consumed. Then I went to a lounge called Grandma's and had karaoke fun. I had never karaoke before and I got up and sang my little heart out last night to the tune of deafening applause. It was really really fun. Why don't I do karaoke all the time??? Oh yeah, because I have no friends. Now I remember. Well next time I am hanging out with friends and we are all like, "what should we do?" I'm going to be all like, bowling or karaoke or karaoke bowling. I used to shun these cool cat past times but you know what? They are really fun.

Now I'm sitting at a little lace called Portland Coffee House. Aptly named. Aptly. And I'm planning on trying to find Powells book store. Which I've visited before, but only briefly. Trish and I took a 30 minute walk up to Alberta Street this morning where she took her bike in for repair and then we had brunch at one of the millions of cutesy little restaurants in this damn town. I had smoked salmon potato pancakes and they were very delicious. Then we rushed back home because she had to go to do her play again today. So I get to roam around alone in the city, which is my favorite thing. I took The Max. Which is free. If I didn't hate every single person I see and every single hippie chic store and cool cat sweater vest fedora glasses wearing freak on every corner, I would really like this town. Also, I've been accosted by panhandlers one too many times already to really want to live here. How did I put up with that shit in Arcata? It is horrible.

Well, I guess I write more later maybe. I've got to go look at shit.

My fucking dog Chachi

He is so cute and sweet and nice. But sometimes I want to rip his fucking throat out. This morning I let him inside after his morning duties and I filled his bowl up with fresh water and I started making some coffee. He likes to weave in between me and the cupboards when I'm in the kitchen. I think he's thinking I might have dropped something that he can eat. So this morning he was doing that and when I turned around his water bowl was knocked over and a little bit of the water had spilled out. I cleaned it up and then continued on with my bidness thinking he had done it on accident. He started sniffing around where the water had spilled and then with his sniffing nose, knocked the bowl over again. Again, I thought this was an accident because he is a very curious and sniffy kind of dog. As soon as I picked the bowl up. He went over to it and purposefully knocked it over with his nose again! So I think he's figured out how to play a fun game and I think I either need to beat this behavior out of him or buy him a new water dish that he can't knock over. That fucking dog. You know what he really likes a lot? Ice cubes.

Also, he keeps bringing rocks into the house. Usually they are big rocks that I can pull out of his mouth before he comes inside but sometimes he has a smaller rock and I don't notice it until he brings it inside. And then he throws it around the house with his mouth. And I tell him, "Mom always said, don't play rock in the house." And I also tell him, "People in glass houses, Chachi." But he doesn't understand English, let alone references to the Brady Bunch or proverbs.

My life is so easy and breezy now-a-days. Here is a summary for future me. I've been getting up at about 10 or 11 every day since I don't have school. Then I make coffee and sometimes eat a little bit of something, let chachi in, play with him, yell at him, or beat him to death or at least within an inch of his life. Then I usually watch some TV or hop onto the internet where I check my email and the many blogs of my many friends. I usually check out some other sites and do some random googling about things that I am currently interested in. Then I usually try to do some abstract work or else I feel really guilty for the rest of the day. Then I usually shake a tower and then I sometimes play some video games for about an hour. Then I get ready for work and put chachi outside and then I go to work at 3pm. I get off work at 9:30, come home, yell blasphemies at myles for a while, pet chachi, and do some more abstracting and internetting, watch some more TV, and stay up late doing various projects or reading, or playing video games, or internetting, or researching important subjects. I've been going to bed between like 1 and 2 in the A.M. I need to stop this behavior or else it is going to be difficult to go back to a normal schedule when school starts again on the 25th. Next weekend, on Saturday, I'm going to see my friend Trish Kimball in a play up in Portland. I'm going to stay at her place and take in all the sites and sounds of Portland. Oh! That reminds me. I need to research the goings-on in portlandtown this weekend so that I can entertain myself if I need to while trish is off doing plays or working or whoring it up with the sailors down at the docks. Like she does. Whore. I'm so glad that I am still friends with at least one person from high school. It makes me feel like the first 18 years of my life weren't a total wash.

Best Picture of Me Ever

My friend Trish finally sent me a bunch of pictures from the reunion last month. I'm not sure if she sent me all of the pictures she took. Somehow I doubt it. But she did send me some pretty awesome ones. That picture above is my favorite, for obvious reasons. I'm going to post more tomorrow with names and dates and stories. It's gonna be great! When we're all dead, it's gonna be great.

Mania

I only have about 10 minutes so I thought I would so how much I can write in 10 minutes. I bet not much. Especially if I keep going on and on about how much I can or can't write in 10 minutes. Now 8 minutes. Actually It was 9 minutes when I started.

My dad told me that my manic-depressive aunt didn't start getting really crazy or having any symptoms at all until at least her late twenties or early thirties. I've always been kind of a mental health hypochondriac, ignoring actual health problems and focusing on perceived psychological problems. I diagnosed myself as being autistic a couple of months ago. I still think there's some truth to that one. And now I am diagnosing myself as a lying dormant bi-polar. Not so dormant, actually. Anyway. I only have 5 minutes left. I'm going to see the Illusionist at 4:45. I did a lot of really useless crap today. But it was fun. The internet is the best place in the world. I have all sorts of new ideas for my book. Not from the internet. Those are two separate thoughts. I am getting downright manic with excitement over my new purpose. I am a writer. A writer of Fiction! I really am! Ho Boy! You know the best part about being a bi-polar writer? You write, manically and maniacally for about a month or so. Then you want to kill yourself for about a month or so. Then you are normal and you write on and off about real things, normal things, and then you are manic again and can use the killing yourself feelings and the normal feelings as fodder for your manic writing. It is totally a recipe for success. Jeffrey Eugenides says you have to be able to write no matter how you feel. One thing that this blog has helped me with is just writing no matter how I feel and he is right. You have to just write and write and write. Just like all those creative writing teacher hacks told you, because some creative writer hack told them. And even though it never worked for them, because they were hacks, if you are smart and have any kind of talent for writing or story telling, a-which I do, those hacks were all right. Just write and write and write and eventually you'll have enough stuff, thousands and thousands of pages, millions and millions of words, to fill a really short book. Times Up!

I'll give you plenty of Nothing.

I'm doing swell, thanks for asking. My cousin Bucky is in town. You know what that means.

I've a powerful anesthesia in my fist.

I've a psychotropic pharmacy in the locks of my hair.

So There!

So what's up, my friends and family? I feel a lull in the larger conversation. A lull.

I am a writer, a writer of fiction

So I wrote a short story for a short fiction contest. Or, as my brother would point out to me late last night when I told him that I finished my story, "No you finished your FIRST DRAFT." So I finished the first draft of my short story last night. My brother is going to edit it because he calls himself an editor and gets paid to be an editor. But I don't know. I may have other members of my family read it. But not my friends. Because my family are my worst critic. When I told them all the idea I had for my book, they all loved it. Then they said things like, "Well whether you write it or not, thats a good idea." And, "I of course have had a million good ideas just like that, but never wrote a book." And, "That sounds like it would be a good short story, or vignette, or anecdote." So I decided to start it has a short story, and you know what? I could only fit about a third of the ideas I had into the short story. So there. So it is a novel. Or it will be. Actually, I was very relieved when I talked the whole thing out to my family because it made me more excited about it and I got caught up in the telling of it. Which I think is a good sign. And I wasn't worried about their reaction because I knows they's all bitches. One of the contests I am entering says that the finalists will be considered for representation by some different agents. So I think that being able to expand this particular short story into a novel is a good thing, since that is probably what they want. I'm so excited!

The Intranet

I'll Enter YOUR net. Your net worth. I almost went to see a movie today. Decided against it because the internet was too fascinating. Now I'm bored with it. Intra would be a pretty name for a girl. I was thinking of A names again recently because my sister is going to have another a-baby. Also, anyone thinking of naming any babies any time soon should really really read Freakanomics. It is a really good book and will give you insights on how to name your baby an educated white name versus a poorly educated low income white name. Not to mention steering clear of black names because those people will not get called back for job interviews. Fact. Fascinating book, really. I am in the game of recommending things, and I'll do that for this. I recommend it. Mumus are like the multi-purpose room.

I got Da Ali G show on DVDemups yesterday. I've been laughing since yesterday. I mistreated my dog today. Left him outside whilst I am off gallivanting around town like a gaddabout. I feel so guilty. I made up a very beautiful showtune about what I would do If I had my own bathroom. It was very beautiful. The song.

I've decided instead of writing a book I'll write essays and submit them across the universe of publishing. Magazines, etc. And then the book deals will just come pouring in. And then I'll just compile the essays for my first book and each subsequent book will be lacking but will still sell well because people like me and will buy anything I write based on my name alone. Like I do with David sedaris. Even though I really don't think the last stuff of his that I've read, including essays in the new yorker, were very good, I still buy it and/or read it. And speaking of the New Yorker, I have been reading it quite a lot lately because there is always a fairly recent issue in the waiting room where I work so I grab it when I go down to the cafeteria to eat my dinner. I always find something in it I like.

The main source of joy in my life presently, however, since I no longer have to get up super early in the morning to go to class, is the 11pm to 12am hour Monday through Friday. It is during this time that I enjoy watching my boyfriend, Charlie Rose. Charlie Cutie Face Sweety Pie Candy Ass, I call him. I know I have explained here in the past how I love the Charlie Rose Program but my love affair for his program has gone through a sort of renaissance lately mostly due to the fact that I can watch him regularly and religiously as the public television station repeats the previous nights episode the following day during the 11am to 12pm hour. That is Charlie Rose every 12 hours, if you are counting. So if I happen to fall asleep during his 2nd or 3rd interview I can always catch it again the next day. Or if I just want to watch it again, I can. If you have access to Public Access, and if you are part of the public, you do, please take note and try to watch this program as it is one of the best on Television.

Also, I am taking donations for people who want to be mentioned in my book by name. If you want your real name mentioned, that is five dollars. If you want a thinly veiled character created around you but not your real name, that is 10. If you want a few paragraphs all about you that would be $20 and if you want a whole story based around some aspect of our relationship that is a whopping 50 dollars but well worth the immortalization. And if you want a book dedicated to you, send me a private email and we'll work something out. If you catch my drift. Oh, and if you want me to mention a child you have, you are out of luck. No kids in my book or my essays.

dreams and aspirations

I had a dream last night that Jonathan Safran Foer and I met in Ashland. My sister knew him and intimated that they had dated or something briefly many many years ago when she lived in New York. Well, we hit it off like gangbusters and the next thing I knew we were having Thanksgiving dinner at my parents house in Yreka where a gaggle of old ladies all dressed in red were in the back yard with my mother who had decorated the back yard all in red with a red red runner like a red carpet down the center leading to where the birds would be buried to cook. And Jonathan Safran Foer filled up a mug with a special wine he had brought from Europe and told me I smelled of lilacs. It was really great. I just finished his latest book, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close and I really liked it. In fact, I was explaining the plot to my coworker and she got goosebumps and I started to tear up from telling the different stories. It was so silly. I really like my coworker angelina and her fiance who also works with us but in a separate area. They are getting married next June so we talk about wedding stuff a lot and it makes me feel like a real live girl.

I've been feeling sort of self conscious about writing this blog because it is so self indulgent. Tell me I'm being ridiculous. Thanks.

I was going to write a book but I've changed my mind for now. Jonathan Safran Foer made me want to write a book but then when I finished his book and I liked it so much it made me feel really inadequate. Which might be another reason why I've been feeling self conscious about writing in this blog.

I'm done with school for a while so other than working 6 hours every day, my time has been spent sleeping in, playing video games, watching movies, and debating whether or not to write a book. And I've been doing some GRE preparation, which is really fun. I am surprised whenever I know anything. I still haven't narrowed down the schools that I want to apply to but my most likely list right now is UC Irvine, UC San Diego, University of Oregon, Berkeley(just for fun because I don't think I'll get in but it would be really great to live in Berkeley), and maybe maybe UC Davis. Although probably not that last one. And possible some other places. Mostly I'm sticking to the west coast which might include University of Washington but I don't know if I can handle that weather. Maybe I'll follow in my sister's footsteps and apply to Columbia so that I can go to school with Isaac. And then I get drop out when Broadway calls. Although I doubt it. But I was briefly entertaining the idea of NYU because I heart NY. But I think the east coast is mostly out of the question as I am a west coast kind of girl. I think.

I saw Little Miss Sunshine last weekend. And I saw Talladega Nights. Both were very very funny. I watched the documentary Why We Fight, which was awesome and I think everyone should see it. And I watched Elaine Stritch:At Liberty, which was a one woman show on Broadway of this old broad who has diabetes just like me. But it isn't about how she has diabetes. It is how she was a drunk and knew Noel Coward and went out on a date with Marlon Brando, etc etc. With songs in between. She is great.

I can't remember what else. Except that I love Jonathan Safran Foer.

Rarely Spotted Duck

I've been browsing my pictures lately, mostly because of Avantard's amazing find on the internet, otherwise known as This Site: http://www.myheritage.com/FP/Company/celebrity-collage.php

This is hours of fun. Totally awesome. But I keep coming across the picture above and it becomes increasingly funny to me. I love Marigold's expression and my expression and I love the setting and I love that our shirts are close in color and the lady behind us is also in a reddish color. Like there was some color scheme suggested for the party that we all had to stick to in a round about way. It may be my favorite picture!

Top Secret Email

Sent in an email to my sister, re-related here for all and sundry. I forgot that I have no secrets:

Not really super secret. Actually maybe I'll just write this and then post it into my blog. So Trish Kimbell, Erin Landaker and Gabe Grunbaum all showed up at my house, of all places, to meet before going over to the actual reunion. It was weird seeing those three all together. At the reunion they had a memorial wall set up for the students that died. Leah's mom gave them a photo album filled with all these pictures from highschool and some even from junior high of Erin and Leah and me at eighth grade graduation. And then Hilary Conroy told Erin and Me that Leah's mom had asked to see the two of us the next day, either at the barbecue that was planned for Sunday or somewhere else if that wouldn't work. So Erin and I were a little freaked out about that all night but we did end up meeting with her and I got to see Leah's little sisters all growned up and it was really nice to just get together and talk about old times and tell funny stories. Her mom got a little teary when she first drove up but she was fine after that. Erin and I were both a little worried that it would just be a big blubbery mess but it was kind of fun. I totalllllly fell in love with Corey Brown, who you don't remember I'm sure. I didn't remember he existed and couldn't even remember his last name. He teaches english and coaches soccer at a high school in fremont. Pretty close to you! I mostly talked to him along with Trish and Erin and Katie Selman and Sarah Bray (mike bray's little sister!) Oh and Cole Bray, the cousin of sarah and mike who is the funniest person ever a fact which I had to relate to him over and over drunkenly. And this one guy, Tod Gallon, who was simply the hit of the whole night, making everyone laugh non stop for hours and hours. Everyone was talking about Todd. Honestly, my stomach was sore for two days after just from laughing and having fun. I did drink a little so I am leaving big chunks out like an interesting conversation I had with Jeff Strutz and some high jinx with Gabe Grunbaum who was also a lot of fun. And some people are married and have children and some people don't and aren't and some people have good jobs and A LOT of people don't and some people are still in school or going back to school. Oh! And Stacey Alger. Who is still hilarious and just had a baby three weeks ago. And I actually hung out with Jessica Freitas and was surprised with how jaded she has become and how much it suits her. That's it, in a nutshell. Fucking Crazy Motherfucking shit, if you ask me.

Clell Tickle: Indie Marketing Guru

This made me laugh and laugh.

10 year anniversaries are better than your mom.

So I ended up going last night. I'm not sure if I can tell the WHOLE story as it is long and interesting yet tedious to tell again and again. Generally speaking, it was way more fun than I ever would have imagined. Way more. I am imbued with love for all mankind, and I also have a little hangover. If anyone sends me pictures I'll post some of them here with a more detailed story. I bet you can't wait. You, Marigold. I bet you can't wait.

Christ-like Post

This post is Christ-like. Like, as if. As if Christ himself were here, in my fingers, typing an astonishing 73.5 wpm. Christ is really good at scrambler.

Scrambler was this game I used to play on AOL way back in the day. I loved it so much.

I read the most recent installment of Harry Potter. WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY???????????????????

Why did it have to happen? I have my own theories. Oh yes. Theories wherein certain people DON'T die and were rather impostors to begin with and so could not have actually been killed. That is one theory I have. Amongst many. You know what I'm talking about. Well, Steve does. Hi Steve!!! I wish there was an emoticon for waving. Actually, I take that back. I wish there were no emoticons for anything. With one possible exception, that exception being the exceptional ))<>((.

What color should I dye my hair tomorrow? My little baby cousin died her hair blond. What a whore! Just kidding Maggie. You're no whore. Yet. Maybe now that your hair is blond. Who knows really.

"Mandy?" "what?" "Are you typing in there?" "no" "Knock it off" "fuck you"

That is a conversation I just had with my brother. The truth is, I am typing in here. What a sucker.

The other day I was explaining to my little Spanish class buddy/stalker Nicholas what youtube is. He had never heard of it. He is a spaz and always wants to know what I am doing and where I am going and what I've been up to and follows me around literally like a puppy dog. I asked him if there was anything in the world that is his favorite thing and that he would like to see a video of with the intention of showing him that pretty much anything can be seen on Youtube but instead of saying something a normal 20 year old would say, he grabbed my arm in a half hug and said, "you!" And when I said, "get off me" and asked again he said, "Flamenco!" I don't know what to do about this kid. He is a freak of nature. He is very friendly and outgoing and has a very skewed sense of boundaries. Like, for instance, he doesn't understand that I don't really enjoy being touched and half-hugged by 20 year old guys I just met a few weeks ago in Spanish class, unless that person is my 21 year old cutie little blond christian boyfriend. But he sees nothing wrong with this. And he sees nothing wrong with tracking me down after I've found a secluded corner and sitting down next to me during our break and reading my emails outloud to himself. And he sees nothing wrong with following me to the coffee shop, buying nothing, following me to my table, and talking to me about completely inane and mundane things. And he doesn't think it is weird to draw pictures of me in class. Twice. And he doesn't think it is weird to poke me and try to tickle me during class. Twice. What the hell? There are other weird things he has done, but I can't remember all of them. Luckily I only have one more week of Spanish class. And then no school until the end of September!!!! Yay! All my mornings will be free and easy and breezy. And a little bit sleazy. Goes without saying.

Christ Almighty on a stick is it ever bed time for little mandypants. See you tomorrow!

Rock n Sock Ruck Sack

Isn't it about time that I actually write something funny here again? Isn't it? But really what I want to talk about is how much I love comedians. And Comedy. And comedians who do comedy. Tonight I am watching this dane cook fellow who just may well be maybe well might be just the CUTEST! I am like bugs bunny on the moon for this guy! I've seen him before and watched him when he hosted SNL and all that shit and stuff but he has grown on me even more over these last few minutes. What a nice man.

Also, It is time to take stock. Hmmmm... Well... I have a very infantile crush on a sweet little blond Christian 21 year old fellow in my Spanish class and I think it would be hilarious to be best friends with him and lead him astray. Afterall, isn't that the only good thing about getting older? Fucking with young minds? Isn't it? Doesn't that sound like fun? Just be all like, "Blam! Here is some bad language and new ideas all up in your Christian face, sweet cheeks!" Because that's about as astray as I can lead someone. I wish I was really into heroin or S&M because that would be more interesting. Oh well. What else... Hmmmm... What would future Mandy want to read about and remember about the summer of Ot Six? Well I am actually mostly enjoying work because I like my coworkers and I feel more comfortable saying bad words and making unprofessional and dirty comments. Like the other day when this one guy was asking for a patient's films whose last name happened to be Cox. "I need Cox!" he said. And I said "What? Can you repeat that?" And he said, "Cox! I need Cox!" And I said, "I bet you do." I mean that is just high quality night shift hijinx right there. If you want to know if working at a hospital is just like S.C.R.U.B.S, well it is. Exactly like it. My boss also got fired recently. That is a crazy story and good for some work gossip but probably not good for me to spout out about here. Also, in the spirit of almost talking about things I shouldn't, I found out some interesting things about both a local celebrity and an actual celebrity who lives locally. Have I piqued your interest? Well suck on it, because I can't say nufin. I've spent this weekend and last weekend hangin' out with my sis and her baby and that has been some good fun times, I tell you what. Also, there is somewhat of a saga of a story that I should tell about my high school reunion which I had emphatically and repeatedly declined attending for weeks and months and years but as it is now a week away I'm still not sure if I'm going to go or not. Prolly not. But I am one fucking crazy motherfucking dumbfucking stupid assed bitch-faced-hole so who knows.

And with that, Good Night Muckrakers.

daa daaaaah da da da da da... (da da da da da da)

for the watching of the youtube promos contest for the watching of the office. Do it now!

or else.

And while I'm on the subject, toughnuts, don't you just haaaate it when you wait and wait for some dick-wad of a friend of yours who isn't even really a friend but rather a friend of a friend or even a friend thrice removed, don't you hate it when such a person finally posts something new to their pathetic little blog that you nonetheless feel the need to check on a semiregular basis, don't you hate it when that person says something, after weeks, like "I've been sooooo busy!" As if you've just been waiting with baited (bated?) breath for this retard you don't even know to post something about their pathetic lives in order to entertain you for mere minutes? As if.

God, I've been sooooooo busy.

Seriously. Busy up the ass, if you know what I mean. And I think you do.

War on Terrorable Diseases

As most of the people who read this blog are aware, I suffer from a horrible affliction some call "The Diabetes." In short, it sucks. It super sucks. Don't catch it if you can avoid it. And please join me in the crusade against it and other diseases that may be cured in the short run rather in the long run thanks to advances in stem cell research. This crusade has been dubbed The War on Terrorable Diseases by my best friend Jonathan Livingston Stewart. Here is a link to the clip from the Daily Show explaining the hypocrisy of this damned president's killing of thousands upon thousands of innocent civilians in Iraq for the greater good of defeating terror and bringing democracy to the middle east, and his refusal to support stem cell research, which will benefit millions more than his little war on terror and doesn't take away anyone's mother or father, son or daughter, brother or sister.

culture of hypocrisy

Gettin' my congratulatories all in order and shit

So some people need some recognizin' all up in here. Congratulations to Justin and Alicia Byrne for their successful breeding experiment. Even more congratulations to little Declan Jack Byrne for being born to two pretty good parents who will most likely support him well into his thirties and ask for nothing in return save for maybe grandchildren and the occasional phone call. I think I should send justin an email containing the song "cats cradle" lest he not forget the perils of absentee dadaism so that he doesn't waste all the precious moments. And I'll send Alicia the set of 100 precious moments figurines that some lady has for sale at the hospital I work at. I so much want to buy them and then smash them one by one as she is watching and film the whole thing. Wouldn't that be awesome!

The second congratulatory congrats is in order for my sister and her husband and their already existing child, for there is now another on the way. It will most likely be twins because one time this psychic told my sister she would have three children but two pregnancies. Unless the psychic was being funny and considered her husband the third child. Sadly, if there are twins, they will have to choose between the good one and the bad one, like my father did with me and my twin. Hopefully she will choose correctly, not like my father did, as he constantly informs me. But if they decide to let them both live, my father will never ever visit, look at, or hold either one because he has an irrational fear of twins because they really do a number on him.

So congratulations, babies, for being born or soon being born. And also, lets all give a salute to Alcoholism while we're at it. We salute you!

addddendumm

I wonder what would happen if I just started asking obscure people I admire if I could interview them for my blog? It would be like an interesting people party but I would write people like Michael Showalter and writers I like and no one really really reeeealy famous. Wouldn't that be interesting?

Stumbling and Bobbing along on the Bottom of the Beautiful Briny World Wide Web Part XIV: "But I Have Diabeeetes!"

Dr. Mcninja may be my favorite thing this week.

Also, I watched The Five Obstructions last weekend and I'm here to tell you that it totally kicks ass. Also, my new "friend" avantard posted this retardedly hilariously disgustingly funny thing on his blog. Or if you wish to bypass his website you can learn all about this crazy idiot by going to this salon tidbit on the subject.

OR... If you want to just witness for yourself the connection between this loony bin's prolife blog and a very very old onion article you can open these two windows side by side and compare the two, bypassing both frank's and salon's sites altogether. Because I am like one stop shopping. And we sell everything under the sun.

The Nickel and Dimed lady talks about feeling like an imposter when she takes on her minimum wage jobs in order to do research to write a book. Doesn't everyone feel like an imposter at their jobs? Either you are too smart and have to dumb everything down or you are in way over your head and have compensate in other ways. Am I right here? Does anyone really feel like their job is perfectly suited to their intelligence or skills or station in life? Or is it just me and this imposter lady in this book?

testes

Click Title to go to livejournal. If you have a livejournal account you can take this test for yourself with your own friends!

1) If hasskiss were hanging off a cliff, what would jboyn do? Ask him if he or she has heard/seen the new something or other cool kid music or movie or tv show.
2) What mental disorder does jboyn remind you of? OCD
3) How many monkeys could meowkalala fight at once and win against? probably 2-3
4) Does meowkalala have a big secret? Most likely
5) If meowkalala was a superhero, who would be his/her archnemesis? Count Barkalala
6) Is meowkalala athletic? Not particularly, I don't think
7) Is hasskiss friends with jboyn? Yes!
8) Does meowkalala have a dog? No!
9) Is meowkalala a college student? No!
10) Would you wrestle jboyn in jello? yes.
11) If jboyn took over the world, who would be happy? Everyone.
12) What would you do if meowkalala died? cry and cry and then look forward to the funeral much like I did the wedding of jboyn and meowkalala. Is that horrible?
13) Which president would hasskiss be likely to idolize? Taft
14) How long have you known jboyn? almost 10 years
15) If jboyn and hasskiss were spliced together, what would it be like? Three times the fun.
16) Does meowkalala drink? yes, although not presently
17) Does meowkalala go to your school? no
18) If hasskiss and meowkalala were spliced together, what would be its name? maristevealicious
19) What word best describes meowkalala? Etheriallyearthbound
20) Does meowkalala smoke? no?
21) What is hasskiss's favorite game? Civilization!!!! Or something else
22) Would hasskiss go out with meowkalala? Totally, up the A-hole.
23) Which of your friends should hasskiss go out with? Jboyn
24) Is hasskiss popular? Tremendously so.
25) One quality you find attractive in jboyn? His inflappability.
26) Have you flirted with jboyn? probably!
27) What animal does meowkalala remind you of? a koala
28) Is meowkalala introverted or extroverted? introverted
29) What rank would meowkalala have in a giant robot army? Robot art and literature archivist.
30) One thing you can't stand about jboyn? His inflappability

28 years later

When is the best time to blog? Right now, bitches, right now. Actually the correct answer is when you are avoiding doing actual real work. So I don't know if I mentioned before that I got this job of editing crap just whenever I feel like it. It is gredat because so far I have done about 4 hours of work just here and there and I've hardly broken a sweat. I'm a little behind, however, so right now I should be totally working like a bat out of hell or like meatloaf and just hammering out the editing, all editory-style all up in it. But I have mistreated and ignored this blog for toooooo long. too long, my dearests. So here, in a nutshell, is what's been going on.

Firstly, A#1, I went to a wedding in lovely Fullerton, California recently. Here are some photos I totally stolled off some homeless guy I met today in the streets.

Justin, Alicia, Me, Marigold and Steve: Click for larger view

This picture was taken by the bride herself. That is why it is so flattering for all four of us. It was touched with white wedding luck and pre-coital excitement.

William and Johanna, the bride and groom:Click for slightly larger view and/or the same view only to the left.

This is what a bride and a groom look like.

Mandy thinking about turning 28 and not being married or pregnant and also enjoying what looks like maybe some pinapple? Don't click here for a larger view, I hate you.

Marigold "doctored" this photo up with her majik skills and used it to dedicate a whole entry on her blog just to say happy birthday to me. No one else even called me on my birthday. Not even my mom. Thanks Marigold. To view her homage to my birthday, click HERE!

Preggo Fight! Click for awesome look at fat chicks going at it!

Actually click HERRRRRE for the most bestest view of this totally bitchin cat/fetus fight wherein I look on.

I think that is just about all I can handle to do right now other than mention that I just got done watching The Devil Wears Prada. It was exactly as I expected. The clothes were very pretty and as usual I thought to myself, "I am a ruthless bitch who would trample on everything and everyone to get what I want," exactly at the same time that that the leading actress is learning an important lesson about how one should not trample on everything and everyone to get what she wants.

Oh, and I recently finished two good books, Kindred and The Handmaid's tale, and have started two new great books, Nickel and Dimed and Kiterunner. So suck on that! Now I better make sure all those fucking links work.

above the fruited what?

Perhaps She's Dead? Perhaps. Happy 4th of You Lie!

In matching blue raincoats, our shoes were our showboats.

I keep forgetting to post about stuff. I saw the Squid and the Whale recently and was going to post about how it gave me a cased of my new coined word, the "uncomfies" but I really liked it. and the best part? One of my favorite Loudon Wainwright songs tacked on at the end during the credits. The Swimming Song. So so so good good goodness of a song. Loudon says to me, he says, "This summer I went swimming. This summer I might've drowned. But I held my breath and kicked my feet and I moved my arms around. I moved my arms around." Etc. Noah Bombach, my new boyfriend, good choice. Although after seeing that movie I'm not all that sure if I want him as my boyfriend for real. He seems to be a little fucked up. And Jeff Daniels was so great. And the little kid in it is Kevin Kline and Phoebe Cates' little bastard child. What a little cutie. A little diabetic cutie. I recently found out that my belief that Kevin Kline had diabetes was wrong all these years and really it is either both or one of his kids who has it. That kid in the movie has it, I think. I also saw Thankyou for Smoking which was a laugh a minute. I saw some other movies but their names and content escape me. I am at my sister's right now in Sunny Sunnyvale California as it is my stopover on the way down to L.A. Which I've heard is no disco and no country club either. I've heard other things about it too. I haven't been there in a few years, however. I think perhaps, if it counts, the last time I was there was probably 2001 or 2 or something when I went to Disneyland last.

Oh, and I just found out yesterday that I got that editorial assistant job! I'm so excited. My life just keeps getting better and better. About a year ago exactly I was down visiting my sister here after my little niece was born, who, by the way, JUST STARTED WALKING YESTERDAY WHEN I GOT HERE. I kind of had a little mental breakdown, evaluating my life, etc. Turns out, a year later, much has changed and mostly for the better. So there's improvement and progress for you. You doubters.

Well, I'm off to the robot parts factory! Keep your ears open, you might be hearing from me soon! If you are steve and marigold or justin and alicia, that is.

These three cubic feet of bone and blood and meat are all I love and know.

I've been trying off and on once or twice over the last week or so to post something here but every time I try there is some bullshit going on with blogspot-Ted dick that does not permit me to post anything. So I wrote this on Saturday night but it is not posted until now, Monday night. So fucking shit balls, blogspot. What is up, yo?


AMERICA! fuck yeah. Coming to save the motherfucking day, yeah!

Fuck yeah. That just about sums up my feelings about the current situation of my feelings right this minute, America. So listen up! Cause you are about to get a fucking ear full of Amanda Pants! I had some caffeine. What's worse? Alcohol or caffeine? Remember the days of Humboldt county livin' and lovin' when someone would say, "hey, wanna smoke some of this (blah blah slang for drugs insert here) and I would say, "Sure! Let me just brew up a big pot of coffee first." Because drugs just wasn't drugs for me unless it was mixed with drugs. Good times. Gooood times.

On Leno last night they had a repeat from like a few months ago and they did this whole segment on the Humboldt Crabs. Did anyone see that? It was neat seeing the plaza and the baseball field. I could watch the games from my window on 10th street, if I wanted to. Which I never did. Because fuck baseball. I hate that shit. But the segment was really funny. They had one of those electric bike riding cops in the plaza having to deal with some really stupid homeless hippie-ish sort of guys. I say hippie-ish because they weren't really your regular arcata kind of hippies, they were more like baseball hat wearing t-shirt wearing tattooed kind of homeless guys. Assholes, really. It was awesome.

I have two take home finals and a 10 page paper to write this week. I don't remember when they are all due except that I'm pretty sure the 10 page paper is due on Friday. It better fucking be. And then I'm done for this quarter. And then next Monday, a week from this Monday, I start summer school! I'm taking Spanish. The whole first year of Spanish in like 12 weeks or 11 weeks or something. Crazy.

What else. I'm more obsessed with Joni Mitchell than I've ever been, which I didn't think was possible. And I sort of hate myself for it. Because I never thought I was one of THOSE types of people. Apparently I am. So fuck you. You can't judge me. You like credence Clearwater or something stupid. I'm sure of it. You and your face.

Oh! I watched Jesus Is Magic - the Sarah Silverman opus. Man oh man. That is one funny Jew cunt. As she would describe herself, surely. Surely. And I watched Personal Velocity which is written and directed by Arthur millers daughter Rebecca miller. I give up on capitalizing. And it has kyra segwick and parker posey and faruza balk. So you know, its all like you would expect. But it was pretty good. I give it 4 out of 5 netflix stars.

My new work associates burned a CD for me with this crazy new fangled Gnarls Barkley people. I love this name. Gnarls Barkley. It is worth it just for that. But they do a cover of a violent femmes song and mostly just generally have some of the best songs on this album. I'm always distrustful of liking popular music, especially if it is very very new, like this. But I love it.

And I applied for a editorial assistant job through the college for the summer or beyond. It is the kind of job where I can do it anywhere, from my lap top, so I can still keep my other job too. I really really hope I get to do it if for nothing else than to have something other than healthcare crap on my resume. The guy I interviewed with knows my brother and knew all my references and his assistant is the husband of a woman I worked with at my last job. So If it is all about who you know, and people say that it is, then I should have this thing in the bag. Plus, I'm awesome. So why not? Indeed.

Jesus, me me me. Ay,dios mio. My lord in heaven do I go on. And there's more. More more more that I could go on talking about. But it is late. Should I watch an SNL rerun? Most likely.

Oh, and my new digital camera is broken. Fuck you, world.

Drunks are friendly when they're drunk, and drunks are hostile when they're drunk, which drunk it is it all depends upon.

But I can write. I can do that okay. And it sometimes intimidates me. But not so often. I read the first page of Jonathan Safran Foer's newish Novel, extremely loud and somethingish close or something to that effect. And that intimidates me. Because he is so young! And he is married. And a vegan jew. And he lives in Brooklyn. If I ever get up off my duff and go visit Will and Johanna in Brooklyn I am going to see if I can stalk him and take care of that "wife." But why?

My dad used to take me to the highschool where he taught with him sometimes when I was little. And I remember seeing shelves with lots of copies of the same books. It was like a really boring library. They would have 30-40 of the same books for students stored in these weird little rooms along with the audio/visual stuff that my dad would steal so we could watch videos or so he could shoot home movies or, at one time, his documentary on the Modoc Wars and, at a another time, his alter-ego Hans Vonribbentroff reading the Ginger Bread Man with his heavily phony german accented voiceover he used while he recorded turning the pages of a picture book of The Ginger Bread man that we had at home. But I remember thinking that those hightschool books were books that I would read when I was older and in highschool. But one time my dad and I were at the school, it was usually because he had to get something that he forgot and he would ask me, "Do you want to go to school with me?" and most of the time I would say "no." because I would be watching The Facts of Life or some other crap but sometimes I would say yes, surpising myself as much as my dad probably, and one time I saw rows and rows of Catcher in the Rye which had a burgundy cover with yellow writing. I think the version was printed in 1986 because I still have the copy that he gave me and it indicates that it was printed on or after 1986. He gave me Catcher in the Rye and told me to just read the first page and if I liked it I should read the whole thing. And the first page of that book is really really great.

"If you really what to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth."

And then he goes into this stuff about his older brother, D.B. And I had this older brother and this older sister who I sort of had some warped impressions of since they were both quite a few years older than me. But my dad gave me this book when I was 10 and I was just starting to get an idea that things were not what they seemed.

About D.B. -
"He used to be just a regular writer, when he was home. He wrote this terrific book of short stories, The Secret Goldfish, in case you ever heard of him. The best in it was "The Secret Goldfish." It was about..." And that's where the first page ends. So of course I had to keep reading to find out what "The Secret Goldfish" was about. And of course when you are ten and all the books you've read are all judy blume and beverly cleary and suddenly there's this voice that is by turns adult and childish like you but not like an adult pretending to sound like a kid, like a real kid, like you, like how you think about your stupid phony parents and how you worship and hate your siblings, but not in a "i'm going to learn a life lesson about not hating my phony parents or not hating my brother and sister" because this isn't going to be resolved in any kind of life lesson sort of way. At least not in way I had been accustomed to. And maybe books aren't just a whole bunch of preachy trite cutesy crap and your brother and sister don't know anything more than you do and your parents know even less than that, and not in a "I think I know everything because I'm ten" way but in a real way, in a literary way, in a universal way. Sort of depressing, when you think about it. For a girl of ten. And it was. It was crippleingly depressing.


So this Jonathan Safran Foer kid writes in his first page, which I find amusing, and this is after this whole thing about tea kettles singing and training your anus to talk when you farted so that you could train it to say "wasn't me!" he goes on with this:

"What about little microphones? What if everyone swallowed them, and they played the sounds of our hearts through little speakers, which could be in the pouches of our overalls? When you skateboarded down the street at night you could hear everyone's heartbeat, and they could hear yours, sort of like sonar. One weird thing is, I wonder if everyone's hearts would start to beat at the same time, like how women who live together have their menstrual periods at the same time, which I know about, but don't really want to know about. That would be so weird, except that the placed in the hospital where babies are born would sound like a crystal chandelier in a houseboat, because the babies woudn't have had time to match up their heartbeats yet. And at the finish line at the end of the New York City Marathon it would sound like war."

I like the part about the marathon sounding like war.

And the rest of it too. The suspense is killing me. I hope it lasts. That's the thing about starting to read what seems to be a really good book. It never lasts.

I've been thinking lately alot about the strange sense of constants I had when I was a youngster. For an example of what I mean by this I would like to tell an anecdote about myself. Fancy that. Another anecdote about myself. I don't remember how old I was, but I think that the "new" car is an 87 or an 88 now so maybe I was at the same age as when I read Catcher in the Rye. Wouldn't that be funny? Maybe that's why I'm reminded about all this stuff at the same time, because it happened at the same time. Anyway, the car that I am referring to is my grandmother's big grey something or other car. I don't know what kind it is because I'm not into cars. But she and my grandpa used to have this really cute little two door orange sportsy kind of car when I was young. I loved it. I thought of it just like the dukes of hazard car, which was a show I wasn't permitted to watch due to the fact that it was crappy. My parents had strange standards of what was okay for me to watch and what wasn't, mostly based on what they thought was really crappily put together t.v. that just sucked and was painful for them to watch. But really well made funny porn, had such a thing been around in the eighties, or if say , The Sopranos or Deadwood or Six Feet Under had been on in the eighties, they wouldn't have had any problem with me watching that. But I loved this orange car my grandma and grandpa had and when I heard they had gotten this new car and gotten rid of the the old one I was really pissed off. And upset. And I STILL miss that car. I can remember what it was like to sit on the cream colored pleather-like interior, painful in winter and summer, pleasant in spring and fall. And I remember being absolutely shocked, torn asunder, when I realized that this car would not be their car forever. And I had never been able to jump through the window feet first, not even once, even though I had asked to on several occasions. Can you believe that shit? I can't.

That was a rather long anecdote in order to introduce what may be a shorter one. The old neighbord has desolved and I am having a post-modernist moment in my life much like I did with the orange car betrayal in which I realize that the idea I had about my neighborhood is so far far far away or behind or ahead of what it really is or was. And it has been changing for years, and the more it changes the more I realize it was never like I remember it. And in so far as it is ludicrous to feel personally wronged by the fact that my grandparents were able to afford a new nice car for like the first time in their lives, it is ludicrous to feel this forlorn nostalgia that has been recently triggered for my picturesque neighborhood with the seedy underbelly that never was and worsened by the fact that the De La Fuentes are moving. I could try to explain how this makes me feel but the fact is, they can move if they want. They are probably moving somewhere really nice with a lot of land and now that they don't have 4 children at home, they probably don't need a big two story victorian house that is entirely impracticle and involves a lot of annoying upkeep, frozen pipes in the winter, electricy problems, general age and decay and oldness. Maybe they are moving into a nice brand new home where there are more modern comforts.

But it is more change, and I don't like it. Because they aren't the only ones. The Harmses left a few years ago and the people that moved into their house painted it and changed things about it that are subtle but very noticible to me and now they are selling the house. And the Evils moved, which was a very freeing, wonderful, overwhelmingly weightlifting feeling, especially for me for reasons I can't begin to go into, but still strange, and I am actually more reminded of the Evilness in their absence than I was when things were as they always were and they lived there. And what is left of the Bacons are moving. Sir Lawrence Bacony, as he would introduce himself to me when he called my dad on the phone, died a couple years ago of a heart attack. His widow is selling the house now. And the old woman Ruth, who bought the house next to the Bacons many many years ago but who I still think of has an interloper, is selling her house. I still think of it as the LeBaron's house, the family who lived there until I was bout 6 or 7. The Fioruccis are now occupying two houses on the block and I am perhaps stupid to believe that they are probably not going anywhere. Even though I know that I can't rely on these things to be the constants in my life that I depend on emotionally to bring me back to a place of home, I can't help it. So they'll probably move too, and I'll be shocked all over again.

And The Catcher in the Rye that I read when I was ten changed every year when I reread it, which I did every year until into college. And if I reread it now, it would be completely different. For instance, his brother was not really a prostitute when Holden says, "Now he's out in Hollywood, D.B., being a prostitute." What he was was a sell out, a phony, out in hollywood writing shitty movie scripts instead of writing great short stories. But for years and years I thought it meant that his brother was out in Hollywood, being a prostitute. It made the whole thing a little more interesting.

The reason I won't ever learn this lesson, that there are no constants, is because I don't realize how much I rely on these constructs of youth, or even remember them, until they are threatened or gone. In short, Home is not where the heart is. Home is not where you hang your hat. Home is an illusion, lunch at home, doubly so.