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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!