December 21, 2005

a Coinstar kinda Christmas

Well people, I'm electronically gone for the next week or so. I just thought I'd take the time to wish everyone a Merry Christmas. I would call, but I'm broke and soon exchanging my pennies to buy my last few sausage logs and herb tea gift sets.

I've spent all my money. And I feel great!
Happy Holidays!

December 19, 2005

The Chronicles of a Comeback?

The internets are totally abuzz about the "Lazy Sunday" digital short (aka the "Narnia Rap") feature on SNL the other night. I have to admit, I really enjoyed it. I even kept it in my TiVo to show my sister, which is very rare as of late when it comes to SNL (This is besides Dane Cook's epi, of course). But yeah. This short was really fun. It had cupcakes, a reference to "The Notebook", and a very Beastie-boysy feel for the holidays. Check it out when you get a chance at YouTube.

Actually, I was surprised to find myself watching the entire episode, TiVo'ing through the commercials aside. And no, it wasn't just the Ba Ba Booey reference during Weekend Update, awesome as it was. There were still a few so-so sketches, but on the whole it was a decent effort. Maybe SNL is on an upswing?

Shopping is scary.

“The ornaments look pretty but they are pulling down the branches of the tree.”

I knew I was in for trouble whilst stuck on the interstate exit before even reaching the mall. I had been told that shopping the weekend before Christmas was a fool’s errand, but what the hay. I like shopping. I’m patient. Hell, I spent four years in the trenches at ODU standing in the registration and financial aid lines. I got heart.

Conversation remnants describing this weekends events:

CA: “The stores were RAVAGED”
LP: Seriously. Old Navy's women's department WAS A sock and A cell phone cover.
CA : “Kohl's looked like a New Orleans WalMart three days after the hurricane.”
CA: “We abandoned our cart and fled the scene
LP: I fled Lynnhaven like a crow flying away from a french frie on the interstate.”

I mean I had simple goals: Get in. Get out. Buy no presents that had a size or were of a rare nature to find and/or replace. DO NOT SHOP FOR YOURSELF. Do not equate present price to friendship value. Everyone’s equally deserving (or I simply will not have groceries for following year). Christmas is about selfless giving, and giving, and giving. Right?

There muggings at all major malls. Tiesha called to warn me not to go to Greenbrier, there was a woman down. To further her point “Leslie, I don’t think I coulda took down THIS woman. so it must’ve been SOME mugger, I’m not going back out after 5 and I’d advise you to do the same.” The mall that dreaded sundown.

I’m starting to think the war on Christmas has nothing to do with Santa, Jesus, or holiday greetings at all. The real war is debt and consumer commercialism and just trying to survive it without selling your kidney.

December 14, 2005

The Holiday Address

I really didn’t want to do this; but my hand (and, ahem, Leslie’s for this accompanying picture) has been forced. I’m declaring a war on the war on Christmas.

I need to know why our nation’s news organizations are so obsessed with this non-story, and who started all this kerfluffle (am looking in your direction, Mr. O’Reilly), so I can kick them in the baby-maker.

I just don’t understand why people are upset when someone is just trying to be nice. There really are a whole lot of worse things they could say to you.

A few weeks ago, a guy friend of mine wanted to celebrate the fact that he and his fiancĂ© were going to have a baby with his most near and dear. Long story short, this was a baby shower thrown by a couple of dudes for a crowd of mostly dudes and three girls attending. It was quite possibly the best baby shower ever. No stupid games where you guess how big Mommy-to-be’s belly is with ribbon. There was no wishing well, unless you count the grated heater in Joe’s floor where renegade silverware goes to die; and the only reason the shower didn’t have a theme based around watching that day’s soul-crushing Eagles game was because the Eagles weren’t playing that day. (Nonetheless, there was still football on the TV, for everyone in attendance of said shower except the three ladies were in a fantasy football league.)

Besides the paper tablecloth with pictures of babies on it buried underneath not one, not two, but THREE sandwich trays; balloons strewn about the tiny apartment in every color EXCEPT pink or blue, and one of those cardboard letter-banners reading “Baby Shower”; there was the cake. A cake which read “Happy Baby”, which my brother and I took to chanting for most of the afternoon like characters in a Japanimation cartoon (always wanted to be one of those). No, it made no sense, and yes, it was pretty damn near inappropriate. After all, would it have killed the novice boy-shower-organizers to ASK a girl what the appropriate phrase to write in delicious icing would be?

But Joe’s cake-wish blunder wasn’t even a blip on the radar of that afternoon. The real story was that it was a great shower. Everyone there was genuinely excited that our friends were going to have a baby, and no one had to make a baby out of chewing gum to prove it.

So here’s the memo. Say whatever the frig you want, as long as you mean it. It’s the thought that counts.

December 12, 2005

Fix U

So a few months ago, me and the artsy girls were at the movies watching Harry Potter. King Kong was amongst the previews and I shared that King Kong is a love story between a woman and a gorilla. This was greeted a series of snickers, and various snorts of mock " I luv u gorilla" during the movie at at sporadic intervals. I thought for a moment maybe I had read something wrong in my critiques.

Was it just about bringing a big gorilla to NYC? No love?

Then the commercial came out and I felt vindicated. Naomi Watts + huge ape + Coldplay = ick..

"And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth"

What a weird commercial combination? It makes me wander how you can change the whole concept of film by adding a varied music score.

December 11, 2005

The Mayor of Chrimmas and his Fugitive Brother

Not to take anything away from Leslie's ghetto-blaster Don Magic Juan Christmas tree or anything, but I wanted to share my own personal slice of Chrimmas time. At right, you have the Mayor of Chrimmas. He's a Christmas ornament made out of gumdrops, and the key ingredient to any happy Carol Ann Christmas. According to my mom, he is about 40 years old. He is the first ornament I put on the tree, and always gets a red light right behind his head. He lost his right eye sometime in the 1990's, and no, I will not replace it. Violence has been threatened when attempts have been made to repair him. I think his handicap makes him all the more endearing.

Just as Bill Clinton has his embarrassing brother Roger, the Mayor of Chrimmas has a Fugitive brother, seen here trying his gum-droppy damndest to flee the scene. Doesn't he look like he's been caught in the police searchlights?

December 8, 2005

The worst obit in history.

I know there will be a stock piece about this from every single news outlet in existence today, but since we've got a forum, here's my John Lennon schpiel. When I was six, my cousin Jeanette and I watched the movie "Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band" on average at least twice a day. I fully understand that this movie is HORRIBLE. But we were six. And we knew every single word to "Come Together", the way any given kid knows the Spongebob Squarepants theme. We didn't know the songs were about drugs and sex and disenfranchisement or whatever; I think we knew on some level that is understandable to six-year-olds, that this music came from a real place. That's all that counts. Also, Peter Frampton and the Bee Gees wore some pretty ridiculous costumes in the movie, so they probably got us a little there.

During my teenage years, as most people do, I decided that I knew everything that there was to know about anything, especially music. There was a solid two year period when all I would listen to was Beatles and John Lennon records. I read every book I could get my hands on about the Beatles, and when in 11th grade we got the chance to choose a historical figure we'd like to "impersonate" for a mock press-conference in front of the junior & senior classes, I decided I wanted to be John Lennon. My history teacher, Mr. Borneman, fought me tooth and nail on it, claiming John Lennon wasn't a historical figure. Bullhonky! I won. And no, I did not try to affect the accent.

I'm rambling for sure, but today, the 25th anniversary of his death, I just wanted to give an electronic shoutout to John. He is one solid person, besides members of my family, who I can truly say have made an impact on me, as far as any creative leanings I might have, or just how to be who I am. If for nothing else, there's this quote of his, which I used to have tacked up on my wall...

"I believe in everything until it's disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it's in your mind. Who's to say that dreams and nightmares aren't as real as the here and now?"

And since I don't have a graceful or non-pithy way to end this business, I'll just encourage all 9 of you who may read this to listen to some Beatles and/or Lennon solo stuff today. Or don't. Either way, have a nice Thursday.

December 6, 2005

X-mas crap

I'm listening to the most overwrought Christmas song ever. Xtina Aguilera's "Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas". The beginning is fine but by the third or fourth "happy golden day-ay-ay-ay-ay-eeeeeeeeee-ay-eeeeeeeay oooooooo ummm" My ears begin to bleed. Well there's still Jimmy Eat World's "Last Christmas", no discredit to George Michael but Jimmy Eat Word rocks that sh*t!

I'm thrilled with our traditional tree this year. After the purple-gold Christmas tree fiasco of 03, we think twice before doing the conceptual tree thing. I'll have to fine the pix, but if Don the Magic Juan had a tree it woulda been that one.

My jobs getting ready for it's X-Mas party. I've agreed to make potato salad (I buy the materials, the room-mates make it, and I take credit.) Last years tasted like mayo on potato, no joke. I vowed this year never again. I wish I could take a picture of our inflatable Rudolph, he's strategically blocking the men's room door.

I was so bummed about rain mix vs. snow. I worry that by my mid-thirties or so snow on the east coast will become a myth. I mean a few days last month it was in the 80's.

Christmas Wishes anyone?
Bob Newhart?

December 2, 2005

Insecurities manifested in bolds, caps, and italics

Today was a busy day. I’ll admit I did not have time for the normal witty banter that ensues day to day on the internet. So I graciously posted my away message and carried on with my workday. It was at some point today when a non familiar (immediate & OEF friends not included) internet savvy friend of old sent me a note. A quick what’s up if you will. Instantly and without thinking – why should I – it’s the internet? I respond – LOL, I’M MAD BUSY! And hit send. So what’s the problem you ask?

I FORGOT I HAD MY CAPS ON BECAUSE I WAS WORKING ON A MAP OF U.S. CAPITALS. I minimize my window and watch my icon beep while I carry on with my work load and then 20 minutes later return to find a startling pool of emailitude or I-M- itude if you will.

“Why are you yelling at me? It’s not my problem if blah, blah, blah, blah, blah – U blah blah blah…”

My deal here is instant messenger is not real talk. Why would anyone assume that you are giving attitude to them via internet when u/they both have the option not to accept the conversation. I’m not understanding why this is a place to negotiate serious matters of the heart/mind. I have trouble scolding the family pet when she throws up in the floor. I’ve only had two physical fights in my life and both involved strangers where I stepped on their shoes. No fights were of the cuss out nature. I avoid conflict like the black plague.

Instant messenger is supposed to be an information exchange. Don’t get me wrong I love it here. I feel like Neo running loose in the Matrix. Who wouldn’t want all this power at their fingertips? But, it never will it replace hearing someone snort when they laugh. Or watching them trip in a sidewalk crack, or seeing someone get smoted. Maybe that’s my opinion, but typing in caps does not mean I’m yelling. I could just mean my caps lock key was stuck.

What’s next green text means you’re horny?

December 1, 2005

This Post Started Out Normal, I swear

So I originally was going to post about how I want it to be cold already, seeing as I just bought a winter coat at a ridiculous discount.

So, to accompany my little anecdote I went searching for the picture of said coat. Somehow I decided that since the girl modeling the coat had brown hair (and since I'm still on a crappy photoshop kick from the Hench-Garcia wedding picture) , I put my face on her body. And shabbily adjusted the colors on my face to try to match her skin tone. And then, feeling stylish, I put myself in Milan.

As crappy a graphic-design job this is, It still somehow makes going to the gym seem worthwhile. Look out world! Wild-haired, Globetrotting, Pasty-faced Carol Ann is comin' atcha!

Guerilla Art

So sadly I had to break up with Thigpens Artsy Fartsy blog (as my favorite education art website). Thanks to Sheiko's creative eye I'm redirecting my love to Drawn (hyperlink on the side). What caught my eye was a piece on guerilla art - this is where you do something artistic in a semi public place - it could be as simple as writing something in chalk on a sidewalk, to putting stickers on a car tire or even putting a message in a bottle. These are not my ideas ( receives that credit. But I plan on putting a few of them to good use. By no means will I do anything illegal like spray paint something - but maybe just maybe I'll put paper fins on the metro. Or maybe I'll chalk my favorite song lyrics outside tonight. I must be creative before all that is left of brain is a giant coupon. I have my assignment.
More to come tomorrow.

November 29, 2005

Corny Poetry

I descend upon Norfolk after travelling many deer slain miles.
Fourteen exactly, perished upon I-81, 501south, and I-64.
I wonder what drew them there in the first place, probably reasons not to unlike my own.
Finding food, drink, a solace from hunters chasing them.

I have driven so much it all looks the same. Even though I've travelled these roads before; the places look new to me. I don't feel like the girl that left Norfolk on a drizzly November day is the same girl returning again to her Mountainy home.

I jog even though the cold air steals the breath from my lungs. Oddly enough I never had asthma til I moved to the Ocean.

I remember old times gone by with people left behind by progress, or others, or the years bitter grasp.

I eat dinner with my new family and wonder why no ones talking and then I realize that it is not one family but four strangers and the only one being thankful for the turkey is the house cat.

My brother calls from oceans away I'm reminded why I'm thankful. He sends pictures of beauty despite being in one of the most disastrous places on earth. And reminds me that you don't have to be in paradise to find YOURSELF. Which believe it or not, I've been missing me for a long time now.

I go to watch a movie I've already seen with my mother and feel incredibly proud there are people that use and believe in the power of imagination and that my mom has lost none of hers even in her older age.

Even though I've only been gone for 4 days from HOME - its just as I left it and for now it's where I'm meant to be.

well there and mi Hogar*.

November 23, 2005


Seeing as how I'm leaving for the holidays and CA so graciously extended the invite without further adieu....
Here's the Leslie Rama Thanksgiving Addition:
1. I love Harry Potter. Not sure what that says about me but there it is. My confession. I want Hermione to end up with Harry not Ron. Just thought I'd share with the world.
2. Someone get me away from myspace. It's a huge waste of time but I get hypnotized by the side scrolling picture tributes and suddenly feel I have to collect as many friends as possible. It's not real, but wait...I have to go comment. Now....
3. Rental Cars - it's frustrating. They never charge appropriately and I always come out looking like the girl that dropped the soap at Camp Cupcake.
4. Snow-I'm starting to forget what it looks like. I miss it.
5. Photoshop editing I'm addicted to it. I can't stop playing with filters and layers and crap. Something about halftone patterns is hypnotic.

At any rate those are my spastic thoughts for Nov. 23, 2005. Hope you all have a great Holiday at Crapplebees, Mongolian Barbeque, or wherever you maybe eating.

Carolannarama: November 2005

Okay, here's the new concept. I've got all these random thoughts, serious issues, or just plain ridiculousness floating around in my head, as I'm sure you guys do too. Rather than bore you with an entire entry about any individual boring and/or stupid thing, I decided to make a numbered map of my little thought sprockets, or a Carolannarama, if you will. (You know, like diarama, but my name where the "diar" is. Plus, we all know my penchant for making crappy graphics. So after the overblown explanation, I present to you, "Carolannarama: November 2005". (I'll try to keep this up)

1. Lloyd Dobler. Specifically, his speech at Ione Skye's dinner table about what he wants to do with his life:
"I don't want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don't want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don't want to do that."
That's sort of how I'm feeling lately, which I'm sure is not uncommon amongst our peers, but STILL! The five-year old child that would represent my overall career-goal satisfaction has totally thrown itself on the floor, unconsolably kicking and screaming right now. I need direction!

2. I am totally tired of seeing Madonna doing the Ed Grimley dance in her leotard. Permission to go back to being 87 years old, Madge.

3. I totally quit my job at Pier 1. I lasted 18.2 hours. And the money I earned from those 18.2 hours? Totally spent it on myself. Yeah? What? I'm right here if you wanna say something.

4. The recent Laguna Beach finale prompted my high school friend Nicole to gather the gang up for a reunion of sorts (on Thanksgiving Even, no less, how ACTUALLY standard!). OEF's can more than likely expect drunken progress reports throughout the night. You've been warned.

5. Crapplebees. I understand that I'm not the first wise one to refer to Applebees as Crapplebees, but at Leslie's insistence (and graphical help, here), I will assert that I just don't like the place. It used to be acceptable after-the-mall, before-heading-back-down-the-parkway-on-the-way-home sort of grub, but somewhere around January 2000 (am guestimating) my brain threw down the gauntlet. My problem with Crapplebees is that it tries to be all things to all people. They've got Italian, Mexican, Asian, and General American foods on the menu. They're like the Walmart of casual dining establishments. Just because you can fit all that stuff in your store, don't mean I should buy it from you. Plus? There's a Chili's right across the street from the Crapplebees in my 'hood, and uh, Chili's Big Mouth Burgers always win.

Now, wasn't that fun? Your guyz's turn. And Hench, I know you're not friends with graphicsy programs, so if you wanna send me a list I'd do my best!

November 21, 2005

Happy Thanksgiving!

Okay so the fevers officially hit now. 3 day week at work and I'm thinking about leaves. I know that sounds really contrite but my favorite thing about returning back to Covington besides seeing the maternal entity is the fall foliage. I'll have to take some pics from the road and show it to you's guys. A helpful hint about leave piles though. Poke around the leaf pile before you jump in. Cats and dogs use those things as rest areas. GACK!

Covington is super boring but pretty to look at. I go home now and it just feels like lots of ghosts. Since I left permanently about '97 lots of folks have died; some old, some young, several unexpectantly. Businesses have closed with no new things opening to take its place. The interstates been widened although I'm not sure why. Not as many of the people that left come home anymore. Either because life has taken them too far away or because the recognize town death when they see it and would rather not be left there to disappear with it.

A little sad Larry's not here to scrape the sugary topping of the sweet potato caserole. I'm trying to think about favorite Thanksgiving moments but none are coming. Just years of eating until nearing a bursting point and then passing out on the couch. Followed by field trips to various family members where the cycle repeats then I fall out on their couch. Mom always spills turkey juice on her feet every year. I'm hoping by eating dinner at relatives house we'll avoid this issue this year, unless mom just adamently feels like putting her feet in turkey basting.

November 15, 2005


Baxter found out today that he has been accepted to study Library Science at Catholic University in DC. Yay! Now we just have to scrounge up $14,273! But that's not the point! Let him be the inspiration for those of us that want to further our edumacation as well....we can do it!

My album drops......

So apparently my motherboard? was the issue with my poor dillapitated computer. It's gone. Not coming back. Good news is that and brace yourself.........I can still draw. If attention span wasn't poo I'd probably be animating somewhere by now, but sometime after sketch 8 I need some cookies and to watch Sex and the City on TBS AGAIN. I'm trying to be a little more expressive with some of my upcoming sketches and maybe show some evolution in the blogs to come. EEP! That sounded like a plug. Can't make OEF commercial.......gack! Maybe I should wear shirt ALA Macy Gray that says sketches drop Nov. 22. "Twice the snarkiness, keeping it hot, keeping it real, taking it to the next level!"

In other news, I attempted to play basketball again with the boys at the Y. Result was potential cranial and internal bleeding.
Note to self - next time sign up for badminton. Less physical contact.

November 14, 2005

Love thy computer

I am obsolete at work without a computer. It has been a humbling week. I never realized how much of my job relies solely on this electronic device. I've been forced to return to my roots; scrapbooking, filing, decoupage, and drawing my way through the week days. Thank god a small aspect of my original work self is really an artist or else I would probably need to apply to do maintenance. Since the only two work related things I can do well is hammer things and cut up shit.

So today as you read our blog "statement" consider how you got HERE. And ponder your job relevance if you did not/could not use a computer. Think of me hammering football rivets into a retirement book for Wendells 30th year.

November 13, 2005

I've totally been electronically dissing, huh? I started a part-time/holiday-time job at Pier 1 last week, and I've been hard at work building the perfect Access database at for my real job; which I may not even get to use because I have JURY DUTY this week. Boo. So yeah, that's where I've been.

I don't have too many thoughts about my re-entrance into the world of retail, if you can call my time served in the beach shop at the waterpark as retail. Cause like, the candle section alone at Pier 1 is bigger than the whole damn beach shop. But, one interesting side-effect of my first week at P1 is that I have a newfound appreciation for my real job at the radio station. I have an office where I can more-or-less control the temperature, choose my own music (and not play one CD of really lame covers of actually good songs on loop), and a closeable door to tell the world to fuck right off whenever I want. Oh yes, and a cushy chair to sit in. Despite all the cushy chairs sprinkled throughout the P1, sitting in any of them while on duty is frowned upon. Double boo.

I've also discovered my inner class/workforcism. It dawned on me this week that people choose to work in retail. Like, as their job job. Whenever I'm at the mall, or even P1, I assume that the people working there are only working part time because they're in school, or are married and just working for pin money. And whenever they give me guff, I always attribute their crappy customer service to the fact that this isn't their bread and butter so they don't care. But there really are people who take retail seriously. The other night it was getting late at the P1, and a shift manager (I think, I haven't quite nailed down the P1 org chart just yet) was going for some kind of re-stocking record, wheeling out a jam-packed cart of crap to re-shelve when we normally are starting to clean up and prepare to close. So we were trying to get everything out on the floor as fast as possible to get to leave faster; and when I hesitated for a second when thinking about where a certain craptacular christmas-themed votive holder went, the shift manager said, with a straight face, "Oh, I believe those go up front in the jingle-bell statement." Jingle bell statement! I guess every industry and/or business has it's own gay little terms & lingo. Just typing this entry reminded me of a radio term; "P1", which refers to your most loyal listeners.

Maybe the reason I haven't succeeded in any field, be it professional or retail is because I can't speak the secret language without chuckling? Oh well, in the meantime, you're all getting crap from Pier 1 for christmas, so whip out your catalouges and consider what kind of statements you'd like to open this year.

Also, I'm totally referring to everything as a statement from now on. If Dieter from Laguna Beach can refer things that in no way could ever be considered "standard" as "standard", then I can just slap "statement" on the end of just about anything.

As my closing statement, I have rambled on enough.

November 7, 2005

Seen and heard

I haven't wrote anything substantial in the past few blogs. My entries have been something akin to a Dawson's Creek episode where they preview "a major change" and you think, "hey Dawson and Joey are really gonna DO IT." In fact all that happens is Dawson's cat dies or some shit. I digress. Boring Elvis. Boring Dictionary. Boring Diet.

Meanwhile, "Happy is the Ugly/Yuppie Word", at least according to Switchfoot who I went to see in concert. I'd been on this kick where I refused to write/talk about anything Happy or good happening to me out of fear I'd somehow jinx it. Then they played that song and for a few minutes, I didn't feel like I was the only on the planet that thought that way. See cept- it sounded like he said happy is the UGLY WORD. When in fact, the lyrics say happy is the Yuppie word. The Korn fan in me silently ran into a corner and threw up. But hey, I think I saw Brian "Head" Welch standing next to me for a minute didn't I? It was nice and not "outright" Christian music (not that there is anything wrong with Christian Music). It's just creepy to hold hands with strangers and swoon when I can't see anything that holy about a lanky blonde guy with some snazzy lights behind him. It's hard to feel really religious after an appletini and three coronas. Whatev. It was a good show. They had nice optimistic lyrics - heavy on the feel good uplift factor, low on the teen angst. Except maybe "On Fire" which is the kinda song you'd like to have your significant other around to dance with. The opening group Eisley wasn't too bad either, I like the vocals. The lyrics had a bit too many cuddly kittens, moonbeams, and pretty cars references for my tastes. I just remembering wanting to run home and braid my hair suddenly or at least hold the camera out and take a picture of the top of my head for myspace.

So I went to the zoo on Friday. No, not Wal-mart silly, the Norfolk Zoo. With real animals and crap. It was awesome! Although I spent too long on the tigers and the geese and me and LJ wound up hightailing it back to the front entrance. We looked similiar to the ostrichs looking about and then suddenly sprinting for no apparent reason. I was sorta in awe that the tigers dig a hole in the ground to pee, just like domestic house cats. Can you imagine a litter box for that?

Side note:
I got schooled on Friday. Kudos to all the parents out there. Babies are not like pets as some would have you to believe. Raising children IS A JOB with an immeasurable amount of self sacrifice. The stay at home mom is as noble as the best career woman out there.

Speaking of babies (and getting them here) CA just let me in on news flash. Jake Gyllenhaal does full frontal nudity in Jarhead. Ladies it's time to go to the movies. Has anyone seen Donnie Darko? Thoughts?

I want to see that movie Jarhead, but I can hardly watch news with Larry in Iraq. Much less watch young men get blowed up on the screen. Is that my bro? Could that be him?

He's in good spirits though. He's found a new adventure with new loves and things to be excited about. Sometimes having things to be excited about it all you need. Blah, time to do some stuff.

November 4, 2005

From a poster on the TWOP Laguna Beach forum:

For those in the Hamptons Roads/Virginia Area: I was driving home from ODU today and on the radio it advertised this thing called "The Zone 106.1 Winter Meltdown". It's supposed to be a concert with Fall Out Boy, Gavin Degraw(?), Natasha Beddingfield and a few other people...but the best part is-the cast of Laguna Beach is supposed to be there. It's at the Ted in Norfolk on December 14th. Not that I'd actually pay to go see them (wonder if Alex and Talan are singing *gag*) but I'm pissed because schools on break by then. I won't be able to have any juicy stories about Kristen being a bitch to the other castmembers or LC giving Jason head in the bathroom of the Ted.

Who wants to go??!! Just kidding...sorta...

November 2, 2005

Would you mind signing my yearbook?

I need some counseling, electronic friends. My inner-geek has totally busted out of the basement like that guy on Desperate Housewives, and I’m desperately running around my metaphorical house trying to smack it over the head with a frying pan & stuff it back in it’s hole.

Yes, I display all sorts of geekery, both in electronic and tangible forms on a regular basis. But my latest project has me feeling extra geeky, and a little self-conscious. Rather than totally going into how I come from this small town, and we all hold hands & skip down the beach when we’re home, I will just say that through a certain course of events, I ended up creating a website for my graduating high school class. The whole process was kinda fun, ridiculously easy, and a little educational. It had been about 6 years since I’d actually BUILT a webpage not hosted by blogger or diaryland or whatever, so it was kind of interesting. As much fun as the whole project has been, when I step outside of myself, the whole thing seems totally gay. I feel like Melissa Joan Hart’s character in Can’t Hardly Wait that was running around the party trying to get every single senior to sign her yearbook.

The question is; can I be class-reunion svengaliette AND retain any modicum of indie cred I ever accumulated? Or should I just accept that I am going to be making the rice-crispy bars for the damn thing & start looking for deals on marshmallow fluff now?

This is totally not getting into the feelings of embarrassment & inadequacy that were dredged up after actually going back through my yearbook to scan pictures for the website. First of all, I read my personal memories section, and I’d be hard pressed to explain exactly what I was referring to with my clever 16 year old code words for alcohol, sex, or drugs half the time. Which makes me think either (1. I was a total vapid weirdo teenager (re: normal) or (2. High school isn’t worth remembering anyway.

Next, the yearbook dedication. I can’t really remember how it came to fruition, but I ended up writing the dedication, or I guess you could call it that. Basically, there is a page in my high school yearbook, penned by a 16-year old Carol Ann, that is so self-righteous and smarmy about how fantastic we all were, it would make Karl Rove blush (sorry Hench). And yes, I totally recognize the irony of me writing about how self-righteous I was as a teen on a blog in my twenties that is built on the assumption that my college friends and I are fucking fascinating, but we are ignoring that fact right now. The long and short of it is, I can deal with whatever I’ve written in this blog, but man, this yearbook dedication thing is totally embarrassing. It’s hard to have your geekery in print and collecting dust under at least a hundred people’s basement steps.

Lastly, there was one particular signature in my yearbook that totally bummed me out. Ms. Guevara, the rockingest English teacher in history, and THE teacher who taught me how to tease out a complete thought and express it on paper, wrote the following:

“Carol Ann, to one of the sharpest, brightest, most frustrating students I’ve ever had---a word of advice. Write. Whatever combination of magic and talent and the gifts of the muse are required to create a writer, you got it. Now use it, for god’s sakes. Never doubt your ability, and guard against the beast, sloth.”

I think this bothered me because lots of people in my life are always talking about what a great writer I am. My mom is always saying, “Oh, you should include this in a book someday”, when I tell her a story; but none of these people have ever read anything I spent time writing, except Ms. Guevara. Since I left high school I can count on my two hands the number of pieces, including papers for classes, which I have been proud enough of to show to another human being. And the whole thing just makes me feel like a jerk, cause I work in a radio station. What if I’ve just been watching TiVo the last few years while the Great American Novel (blech) has been slowly being pushed out of my brain to make room for Laguna Beach trivia?

I am totally having a mid-twenties crisis.

October 27, 2005

OEF Definitions

As a precursor to OEF's one year anniversary, I decided to put together a helpful dictionary to help outsiders understand the lexicon. Some people have read OEF and are having trouble with the meanings of some of the words. This should clear up any confusion.


Pony: A person who is genuinely of good mind and soul who is ridden around by someone of a more manipulative nature

Judyface: A face made to express and emotion that lies somewhere between contempt and confusion

Banana: An antagonizing clue, left behind to track someone down across the Internet

Internet: a black hole of wasted time, a place where one can get lost looking for Bananas

Rabbit – a pychopath, term coined from “Watership Down” - book in which creatures act in menacing and deadly manner.

Destiny: The person you will marry. 1. Usually located in common everyday place. 2. Seems to take longer amount of time for some people to find.

Turkey Salad: 1. Chicken Salad’s ever distant cousin, consisting of ground-up turkey parts, pimento, pickles, and paprika; looks akin to a tragic car accident or afterbirth : can be eaten on Bread 2. Euphemism for a seemingly innoucuous thing that someone might inexplicably pass-up a meaningful life experience for; such as taking a phone call from a long-lost friend.

Happy: A term to describe an elated state, usually followed by periods of listing likes/dislikes on weblog

Throwing Tacos: a random uncalled for attack upon one’s person, usually comes when victim is happy

Nicole Kensington: Leslie’s evil alter – ego, usually comes to life during unexpected attacks – *see throwing Tacos

October 26, 2005

Some of my fellow apartment dwellers and their assorted guests are so rude! Several times I have seen people come in from outside and let the door slam behind them, oblivious of the guy with his hands full of grocery bags or the UPS guy with a huge box struggling to get to the door. Please people! Make it a practice to glance behind you as you are coming to see if anybody is behind you. The UPS guy actually dropped his box trying in vain to grab the door before it slammed in his face. Everytime I see it happen, I get upset. I just can't abide rudeness. And, boy does it abound in stupid Northern Virginia.

Today, it happened to me, but in reverse, which kind of makes it worse. I was walking up to the door to go in and there was this lady holding the door for some dude with this really long skinny box. I thought that I would get there in time to hold the door for both of them and then scoot in, but she beat me to it. As I was two steps away from the door, she stepped out and let the door slam! What a bitch. We had made eye contact, so I know it was not accidental. I was dumbfounded, so I didn't get to say what I really wanted to say, which was, simply, "Thank you for holding the door for me, that was very thoughtful." Bitch! When I got off the elevator on my floor, I looked down at the car that they were loading their stupid box into, and said "I hope you crash your car, but don't hurt anyone but yourself." And I got a mental image of her with a broken leg. That is excessive, no? But I not-so-secretly hope it happens.

Go Go Gopher Cakes!

Does anybody remember that commercial where the kids sit around gourging on gopher cakes? I think it was one of those "Endorsements for a more Active Lifestyle" or some sort. At any rate, I wanted to chronicle my horrific eating today, so I could look back on this blog and not do this again.

Todays food count thus far at 10:39 (A.M.)
2 Pop Tarts Cherry
2 Mini Twix Bars
1 Forced Slice of Company Birthday cake
1 Handful of Pretzels
2 16 oz. Dr Peppers (I've apparently polished off all the Mt. Dew in the company machine.)

2 Chicken Fiesta Burritos
3 Hot Dogs
1 Pile o'Fries
2 More Mini Twix

Ugh..I can feel my arteries hardening.

October 24, 2005

The original pElvis breaker.

So my mom went to see an Elvis impersonator this weekend. Elvis (circa the fat Blue Hawaii concert).
He apparently sounded just like Elvis in every manner. It was Mom's opinion that he more or less resembled Kurt Russell. I have to admit it was fun everytime she called to answer the phone in faux Elvis.."Uh, hunh, huh", and "Thank you, thank you very mush..."

I used to spend days on end arguing with my step-dad that Elvis IS DEAD. Whereas, Frank would respond, "No he IS ALIVE, in an underground compound." There it is folks, now go find them along with next seasons spoilers for LOST.

L: "Yes, He, Tupac, Biggie, Lisa Lopes and Karen Carpenter are all holed up in an underground compound about 80 miles south of Roswell New Mexico.

I can't help but think if Elvis was alive, how would he react to Lisa Marie marrying MJ, and Priscilla in all those Naked Gun movies.

I went and seen The Bravery at the NorVA Saturday. Kurt Russell Elvis eat your heart out. The lead singer made me wanna take off my shirt or something like you'd see in a 80's glam band video. Aiyee! He told the audience that the NorVA was the nicest venue he'd ever played at, and I have to admit, it's one of the nicer ones to attend. I mean the Boathouse was a sweat pit, the Abyss; wasn't really a concert hall, just a hole of sorts.

CA had a point, i'm not really emo. I think I'm going.. British. Bloc Party, Hard - Fi, New Order, Joy Division - where is this leading too. I'm too happy to be emo.

October 23, 2005

Here is something un-nice to say!

Is it bad that I don't feel sorry for "Rapper Cam'ron" for getting shot in the arms when he wouldn't give up the Lamborghini he was drivin through what is prolly a very bad neighborhood in DC? I mean, seriously, people are starvin on the streets and he is driving a (borrowed, I'm sure) zillion dollar car rubbing it in their faces? I say he kinda got his comeuppance..... is that bad? Really, who is this guy anyways? Diddy doesn't even have a Lamborghini. I'm guessing...I mean, he hasn't called lately, but I am pretty sure he doesn't have a Lamborghini. That is my un-nice thought for October 23, 2005.

October 17, 2005

If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it to my sister...

My sister & I did some fall cleaning yesterday, and to reward ourselves, we took a trip to the furniture store to check out some occasional chairs. You see, we did get a rather lovely occasional chair at this very same store, but it was so lovely that our cats showed their appreciated by completely destroying the one arm. So yesterday we went hunting for a new chair. Furniture & home decor items are to us what shoes are to most ladies. Carrie Bradshaw has no problem spending $575 on a pair of Manolos, but I'd much rather spend that much on a comfy chair to take a nap in. So anyways....

We're wandering around the furniture store, testing out all sorts of chairs, but we ended up not being able to tear ourselves away from the chair that we already own. So we decided to get the same damn chair but in a less cattractive (get it? cat-tractive? attractive to cats? oh well.) fabric. As we were discussing this fact with our trusty salesman, Claude, there was a woman sitting on the couch in the "living room" that our chair happened to be situated in, and lo, she was purchasing our dear chair! Trying to be a good friendly citizen, I offered, "we have this chair, it's awesome!" And my sister added, "yeah, we like it so much, we're gonna buy it again, but in this fabric", holding up our carefully chosen swatch. Now, I admit, we have some fucked up taste. But in our defense, the fabric we ended up with was MUCH less offensive to the lay person than the one we orignally had our hearts set on. Like, if our fabric choices were punk rockers, the original choice was Sid Vicious. The one we took home was Billy Idol. Still kind of dangerous, but he can charm your mom if need be.

So this lady, instead of just politely nodding & continuing her conversation with her sales guy, spits out, "I wouldn't." What a whore! Right? But before I could express my disdain, my sister beat me to the punch. She said, "Yeah? Well it's a good thing this ain't goin in your house." The lady re-situated herself in a huff to turn away from us. Her salesman turned a very lovely shade of eggplant. Our salesman didn't do shit cause his ass still wanted to make the commission on our special-order occasional chair.

So yeah, no real lesson here. Except maybe don't be a hag to my sister, cause she's a tough cookie. This one time when I was a teenager I smarted off to her and she straight threw a meatloaf sandwich at my face.

On a happier note, a lady came into the radio station today to pick up a prize & I needed to get something from the reception area. While the receptionist was digging for her prize, this lady's kids were inspecting our magnetic in/out board, and asked me which one of those people were on the radio. So I answered that question, and about 12 other questions pertaining to the in/out board about color-coding & such. Then, as if it were the most natural question in the world, the boy (about 8 or 9) asks, "So, you have any microscopes?". I didn't really get into it with him, but I'm pretty sure he was doing that little kid thing where they wanna show off stuff they know, like knowing how to use a microscope. When I was little, I'd go around telling people the definition of photosynthesis. Which is, in case you're wondering, the process by which green plants use light energy to make food. For whatever reason, that sixth grade definition has stayed with me for 15 years. Enough!

October 12, 2005

Blah blah life. Blah

Ok, so today I spent about 2 or 3 hours reading the Laguna Beach forum at TWOP. I sometimes have major downtime at work.... anyways, I have noticed that I watch shows with a different mindset after reading the forums and/or the recaps. Is that because I can't think for myself? Maybe.

Laguna Beach is on right now, the episode where Kristin and her robot Alex are having a fiesta. The first time I watched the episode, I was kind of embarassed for robot Alex when she came out with her stupid mo roccas and her dumb call of "Its a fiesta! Woo!" Really? What tipped you off? For me, it was the banner that said "Fiesta" and the pinata. Anywho, this time around, I was glad that the kids exchanged bitch-faced looks like "Oh god, she is a loooser! If it weren't for Kristin, we would never be at this chick's house. That is totally something that a kid in the valley or the other parts of Orange County would do. She so doesn't belong here." Then Kristin tried to help her robot out by yelling "Yeah!" but totally waited like a whole minute so robot Alex could soak in her nerdiness in the complete silence that followed her crazy outburst. Ok, so obviously, this joy at her akwardness was prompted by my annoyance at her remarks about Casey's dress in the last episode. I couldn't remember exactly what geographical location she was dissing, so maybe I pulled a little from "Clueless." What. Ever.

This weekend, I went to the movies. Because they are so expensive, I have to pick and choose movies that look good (or movies that star dudes that look good anyway). So of course, the movie Waiting was a must-see, no two ways about it. Points to Bax for going along knowing that I would be drooling over Ryan Reynolds all night. Predictably, the movie had just a sliver of a plot for those who need something to hold onto for 93 minutes. Not me, I can just hold on to RR. But following in the footsteps of other movies that were great in spite of little or no plot, like Dazed and Confused ,the movie has secured a place in my... place where you keep dvds. Bookshelf?

In the credits, somebody important, I guess Rob McKittrick, said that Dazed and Confused was an influence on the movie. I wonder if that is why the "new guy" in the movie (who I was pleased to see was Sam from Freaks & Geeks) was named Mitch. Maybe. But does it really matter? There was an all-star cast, including Ryan Reynolds, Dane Cook, Luis Guzman, the guy from Boston Public/House (whose character pronounced the word "first" as "foist" throughout the whole movie. Fun!), Justin Long (love!) and that blond chick from Not Another Scary Movie (I think). Good times. Nobody was annoying, even the hostess chick.

Since I suck at movie reviewing, I will just tell you that it is gross, funny, nasty, a little scary, and it will make you think twice about complaining about your food or service, or anything. I might be able to think of something interesting to say, except the TV IS BLARING IN HERE AND I CAN'T USE MY BRAIN.


October 4, 2005

I'm an......Adult?

Yesterday, I went to an art exhibition at the ODU student gallery. In my noblest of hearts, I went to "hear" the speaker, a graphic designer for Emigre speak on..(drum roll please)..FONTs and design. The evil Nicole Kensington (my alter ego), was there to EAT, look at things that broke ass Leslie could spend money on, and socialize.

It was a bust, because me and artistic co-conspirators Marcia and Shei were nearly 30 minutes late. Upon entering, we managed to rudely interrupt entire event by loudly arguing why I chose a backpack versus a purse. The speaker had no audio and vision of screen (which coincidentally was a POWERPOINT presentation..gack) was blocked by hanging fixtures.

I digress, this was a recon mission to view the enemy, graphic design class of 2005-2009. You know the ones coming for my (your) job. Me version 2.0. Suprisingly me 2.0 has not changed one bit since I graduated. They ate the free food, snatched up brochures, recruited a stooly to take notes and left for the food court. The only ones listening were as usual: the faculty, the elders, and the homeless man who came in to eat cheese.

We followed the opening by heading to the ODU gallery, in which I guilted myself for visiting AFTER GRADUATING ODU.
Here I was greeted by a medly of familiar faces, to my suprise NOT many New ones. All the people working, were people that were "seniors" when I was a senior.

My curiousity peaked I asked one super senior senior, "So do YOU work?"
Answer: "Nope, I will die happily in debt, in college."
I guess I don't have to worry about her coming for my job.

The owner of the comic store I patron, asked me what I did today. I said I'm a graphic designer. He smiled and gave me to blank white sheets of paper.

"It's no graphic design, but you could win some some free comics. Draw whatever you want. If our judges like you win."

I realized today, that I am an adult. I have responsibilities to myself, to the government, and to others. I have commitments and time crunches and bills. Burr...I need a tylenol.

October 3, 2005

White Stripes 10/28/05, House of Blues Atlantic City

I forgot to "review" the White Stripes show from last week, and since I am not very intellectual about music, this is gonna be brief and mostly incoherent.

Here we have a picture taken from my cameraphone as this place had more security than a Jlo wedding. Otherwise I would have taken a real photo.

As for the rock n’ roll show….it was stupendous. Even got-damned frat boys were dancing. There was this one guy a few rows in front of me that had the death-grip on his girlfriend’s hand and was doing the Roxbury guys head-bob thing. That or he had Tourrette’s. It was dark & I couldn’t tell. Either way, it was amusing. Yes, I find Tourrette’s amusing, and yes, it’s probably because I don’t have it. But I HAVE already been stricken with an uncurable disease so striking me down wouldn’t be that big a punishment.

Another favorite part of the show (besides Death Letter, duh) was when Mr. Jack White put this dumb girl in the front row of the balcony on blast. She was totally on ecstacy (not that Jack could tell that, or maybe he could) and was turned around in her seat with her back to the stage so she could make suggestive faces at the gentlemen in the crowd. Jack stopped all his rock n’ roll business to ask her to pay attention to him cause, “Honey, we’re putting on a show here”. Then he said all coy, “I’m just kidding…” But you know he wasn’t! See. People make Jack out to be some kind of Rock n’ Roll Howard Hughes cause he wears a Bullfighter outfit on stage & gets married to supermodels in a canoe by a shaman on the Congo. But he’s alright with me. I know he’s just folks.

So yes, electronic friends. Go see the White Stripes show when they come into your respective towns. I bet even a Hench would abandon the “NO!” Corner to shimmy for a minute.

September 29, 2005


or Henchio?
This is my Picasso themed representation of Hench genetically engineering Gael Garcia Bernal and skater Marc in flasks from the oceanography lab.
Hope you like!

September 26, 2005

Trust Exercises

A million (7) years ago I was a counselor at a youth camp in the woods of Millboro.
It was one of those cabin type sleep away Camps like the ones you see in the Parent Trap. Here girls’ ages ranging from age 8-13 lived in a cabin for a week with older 19-21 year old counselors.

The financial range was split right down the middle. Since it was sponsored by the Elks lodge, my girls’ financial background was split 50/50. Half of them were rich children sent away to give their wealthy parents a week long summer break. Spoiled mini-Paris’s who would cry about missing TV, soda, and sedentary lifestyles. The other half were not at all spoiled, sent to be spared a week of the stresses that plagued them in the real world. No parents, foster parents, or ailing parents just food, sunlight, and fun. Happy to eat cheese crackers and drink Kool-Aid until the cows came home.

I am a bit of a cynic, I’m definitely not depressed, I just refuse to wear the rainbow glasses that others seemed to be handed at birth. I’m literal. I think this view helped me fit in with these girls for my four-week stay.

I’m not a teacher, or a childcare expert. But I think, children respect honesty even in its most blunt of forms. And too understand some of my girls, you have to understand that some had already begun to take off their rainbow glasses and shook off the tinkerbell powder already.

Our head counselor Kara often separated our girls into age groups for activities so they could befriend other like minded girls and be athletic and social for a few hours of the day. We had teamwork builders, physical activites, and my favorite TRUST builders.

Trust time was Kara’s pet activity. At this particular time, I think Kara fought to get the companionship from children that she could not find in her adult counter parts.

Here is how trust time went:

The counselors and their respective groups would gather in front of a 3 ft tree stump. Kara would select a lucky contestant at random (I say at random tentatively, her ass would pick the smallest girl in the groups) to stand atop the stump with her back facing the group. Kara then would dispatch us into two lines. Usually with counselors in the middle – that way should the other girls faulter; the counselors (with their canary-like arm strength) could catch the brunt.

With everyone in place, The shutzpah came –
“ I have done this thousands of times, Girls. Before we can be friends we must learn to trust each other. Now, just let yourself fall………”
Then the Midget would fall backwards and the group would catch her. The girls would marvel at their own strength and then volunteer to fall off the log and be caught. Time and time again every counselor’s group would it’s members, no matter the size. And the grand finale, was that the girls would catch Kara.

I thought holy shit! I pictured myself falling into my high school friends them letting go and then it went something like those fall dreams you have, where you suddenly wake up and grab your arms and legs to see if you really did fall.

Kara was in fact a petite 22 year old. She had a wirely 122lb five foot 4 frame with long brown hair and eternal short bangs that I’m pretty sure she’ll be buried with. She was proud of her whistle and clipboard and that at long last she had those, she had power over someone or so she thought.

Enter my girls.

We lined up with my 7 cynical 13 year olds. Several of them during this particular week were from Shelter homes scattered over VA. I had no privileged Elks children this session and it was evident though their sallow eyes. None of them volunteered to be caught. My girls attacked Kera’s optimism at every weak point. Baiting her with questions to which she could only answer in wishes, rainbows, and butterflies. To Karas defense, we were not always allowed to answer “the truth.” I just preferred to say, “we can’t talk about that here”, no unicorns.

Kera went through the line, looking for the small girl, but there were none. They all were at least 5’5 to 5’7. Weighing in between 138 (smallest) to 240 something. I have to admit, I was not sure my group could catch any of it’s own members. So Kera stepped forward and hopped up unto the stump. For whatever reason Kera placed me and the other counselor at the foot of the line versus the middle. I thought odd at the time since we were still the oldest, but hey what do I know.

She crisscrossed her arms closed her eyes.

And fell back …….and was GREETED WITH unconsciousness.

My girls let her GO! Me and Lauren were left holding Kera’s shoes in the air.

The next too noises haunt me in my sleep.

1. One of my girls laughed like Nelson on the Simpsons (an exact mimic) “Ha Haaaaaaaa!”

2. “Poooomp” The sound of Karas head hitting the stump of the tree.

And the inappropriate timing and sound of my own giggling as ALL the kids gathered to rouse Kara.

Don’t worry she lived.
But I doubt she’ll be doing anymore trust exercises anymore.

My girls had been dropped all their life.
Moral of the story, get up and trust yourself!
It’s not other peoples job to catch your lazy ass all the time.

September 25, 2005

Yesterday, Bax and I went down to the Mall in DC to go to the book festival. We had been planning to go for months because three of my favorite authors were gonna be there talking and signing books. I bought a copy of my favorite book, A Prayer for Owen Meany, so I could get John Irving to sign it.

When we got to the book signing area, we saw that the longest line ever was for John Irving. Another author that I really like, Jeffrey Deaver, was signing books at the same time as John Irving, so Bax was going to stand in the Jeffrey Deaver line and get my book signed while I waited in the John Irving line. But then we heard that John Irving was only signing his new book, which is really annoying. On top of that, he had other rules, such as no personalization, no actual message, only a scribble that wasn't even really a signature. What an asshole. Seriously, that is a dick move.

I was kind of glad not to have to wait in that line anyways. Instead we got in the line for Jeffrey Deaver and he was the nicest guy! He was shaking everybody's hands and talking to them for a minute or two. He was actually a human being.

Screw John Irving.

September 23, 2005

Survey Says!

1. Good old fashioned F, Marry, Kill, OEF Edition: Jared Leto, Mark Ruffalo, Ryan Reynolds (Please explain your rationale)

F: Ryan Reynolds (I have eyes. And needs. I have eyes and needs.)
Marry: Ryan Reynolds (I have long-term needs.)
Kill: Alanis Morrisette so the first two are possible.

I’m sorry, who exactly are the other two people mentioned?

2. What movie do you think is complete rubbish, even though everyone else in the world seems to think it's a masterpiece? And, of course, why?

Ok, I don’t know if other people think it is a masterpiece, but I hated the Ring II. Could this woman be a worse parent? Could there be more plot holes, inconsistencies, or contrived dialog? And call me crazy, but I thought that crime scenes remained that way for more than a couple of hours, so how was the biatch able to get into the house so easily at the beginning of the movie? And she just happened to know that the key was hidden in a fake rock? I digress.…

3. You have your real job now, the one that makes money, but if you could have your dream career what would it be?

My job doesn’t make money. Just wanted to get that out of the way. But my dream careers are G’s Chief of Staff or Leslie’s Personal Scientist thingee.

4. What are your top 3 casting choices for the role of YOU in the movie based on your life? How about your brother?

1. Rachel McAdams
2. Reese Witherspoon
3. Sandra Bullock?

1. Topher Grace
2. Adam Brody
3. Scott Baio (hey, he still looks young!)

5. Song quote of the moment, for no reason whatsoever:

From the Beatles song, “Don’t let me down”,

“Don’t let me down! Don’t let me dooown. Whoo-ooo..”

Only, I have a reason and that it because it is the perfect song to sing to get other, crappy songs out of your head, be they home-loan commercial jingles (“866-66-Faster, you’ve got the green light!”) or stupid Fall-Out boy songs (“Blah ble blah de blah de doo da..”). I swear those stupid boys are not singing real words….

6. You are MC Hammer. You have to give jobs to all of your friends for your posse. Who gets what job & why? Include Non-OEFers if you like.

See number 3. I want either G or Leslie to be MC Hammer so I can be Chief of Staff or Personal Celebrity-Creating Scientist.

7. What song(s) do you BELT out when you’re alone in the car?

Pretty much whatever I am listening to. Faves include anything by Alkaline Trio and Lagwagon. Or Goldfinger.

8. If you had to have an accent other than the one you have which would you like? It can’t be British.

Meryl Streep’s in The Bridges of Madison County. Italian, I believe?

Survey Answers

1. Good old fashioned F, Marry, Kill, OEF Edition: Jared Leto, Mark Ruffalo, Ryan Reynolds (Please explain your rationale)

I would F Ryan, Marry Mark, & Kill Jared Leto.
F Ryan Reynolds. Have you seen his body?
Marry Mark Ruffalo because he is local and easy.
Kill Jared Leto because he hasn’t been in anything worthy of notice since MSCL.

2. What movie do you think is complete rubbish, even though everyone else in the world seems to think it's a masterpiece? And, of course, why?

Fargo. He puts a lady in a wood chipper. William H. Macy is BORING.

3. You have your real job now, the one that makes money, but if you could have your dream career what would it be?

A comic book artist or a music DJ. Who owns more music than me?

4. What are your top 3 casting choices for the role of YOU in the movie based on your life? How about your brother?

I’m gonna go with Claire Danes, Missy Elliott, and non-man looking Chloey Sevigny.
Larry would be played by Joaquin Phoenix. Quiet, cute, moody.
Mom would be played by Sally Field, if only because I like the way she says “Sheeeilbeeee” in Steel Magnolias.

5. Song quote of the moment, for no reason whatsoever:

“In the forest we are hiding, unmarked graves where flowers grow.
hear the soldiers angry yelling, in the river we will go.”

6. You are MC Hammer. You have to give jobs to all of your friends for your posse. Who gets what job & why? Include Non-OEFers if you like.

I’m keeping the Nightclub Coordinator job at Destiny for CA. She’s officially in charge of negotiating all the hot acts that come through. I would always need an intricate mix of Indie/Alterna spun with some hip/hop.

Hench would be my personal scientist. I would give her the equipment she would need to breed several thousand hybrid celebrities. Rob Lowe + Daniel Day Lewis =???

Sheiko/Marcia would be my stylists.

7. What song(s) to you BELT out when you’re alone in the car?

“To Love You More” by Celine Dion.
God. It’s Celine Dion. There goes whats left of our loyal readers.

8. If you had to have an accent other than the one you have which would you like? It can’t be British.

James Van der Beek in Varsity Blues. “I don’t wont yer life.!”
Oh..dammit I already have that accent!
Or Maybe Reese Witherspoon’s character in Vanity Fair, that’s not British is it?

Officially out of ideas, so take a survey & pretend it's content

1. Good old fashioned F, Marry, Kill, OEF Edition: Jared Leto, Mark Ruffalo, Ryan Reynolds (Please explain your rationale)

I would F Jared Leto, Marry Ryan Reynolds, & Kill Mark Ruffalo.

F Jared Leto because he is Jordan Friggin Catalano.
Marry Ryan Reynolds cause I think he’s gonna age well.
Kill Mark Ruffalo because he is too short. I’m shallow.

2. What movie do you think is complete rubbish, even though everyone else in the world seems to think it's a masterpiece? And, of course, why?

Moulin Rouge. It was pretty to look at & all, but the story & use of contemporary songs were just too fruity.

3. You have your real job now, the one that makes money, but if you could have your dream career what would it be?

I’d like to be a lifestyle consultant for retardedly rich people that don’t have time to figure out how to be interesting or can’t keep up with culture. My job would consist of reading magazines, watching tv, listening to music, spending other people’s money on non-important crap. I dunno.

4. What are your top 3 casting choices for the role of YOU in the movie based on your life? How about your brother?

Number one choice to play me is Angelina Jolie cause movies are MAKE BELIEVE. Number two is Alia Shawcat aka Maeby on Arrested Development. She’s snarky. Number three is Annabeth Gish circa 1989. She’s got brown hair.

I’d get Billy Crudup to play my brother Butch, if he would put on like 25 pounds. As for big bro Brian, definitely Donnie Wahlberg. Playing the roll of non-existent brother Dennis would be a flaming sack of crap.

5. Song quote of the moment, for no reason whatsoever:

From the Magnetic Fields song, “All my little words”,

Now that you've made me want to die You tell me you're un-boyfriend-able And I could make you pay and pay But I could never make you stay

6. You are MC Hammer. You have to give jobs to all of your friends for your posse. Who gets what job & why? Include Non-OEFers if you like.

Hench is a proven Chief of Staff. Her main function is to recruit bomb boys to lounge all over my compound.

Leslie is Secretary of Shit-Talking. She’s great with making up a fake quote for someone that totally sums up the entirety of their personality. I.e. “Girl! I’m so glad you called, We really need to catch up, but grandma just made some turkey salad! Gotta go!”

7. What song(s) to you BELT out when you’re alone in the car?

“Skinned” by Blind Melon. Not sure why.

8. If you had to have an accent other than the one you have which would you like? It can’t be British.

I’d like to have whatever weird-ass accent that Little Edie Beale of Grey Gardens fame had. I know this isn’t fun for either of you seeing as you haven’t seen the movie, but I can’t help it. Rent it so you know what I’m talking about.

September 21, 2005

Tender Moments

I was flipping through an old CD book when I stumbled upon a copy of the movie The Hench & I had to make for our "Short Works in Narrative Media" class. I thought everyone would enjoy some screen shots. The picture is HORRIBLE, but that's not entirely our fault. We shot it with a perfectly good video camera, but then had to put it on a computer using some antiquated video-computer transfer system in the Digital Services Lab in the library.

Temesgen starred as one of our protagonists roommates, and in this scene he notices something afoot outside his front door.

Here, a barely recognizeable & pixelated Baxter shadily drops a monkey off (from the Piece-an!).

Phillips immediately bonds with the Monkey upon discovering it wh
en he comes home from class. Before this shot there were a series of shots of him bonding with the monkey. Offering the monkey some Papa John's, offering to take the monkey skateboarding, playing basketball with the monkey. What you can't see in pictures, and possibly the most disturbing thing of all was the HORRIBLE techno music that Phillips insisted on playing while shooting the bonding scenes. It's the music that haunts my dreams.

After "roommates" Temesgen, Templeton, & Mike Casey (sigh), consistently hate on his new best monkey friend, Phillips forsakes them for the primate. I like this shot cause Mike Casey is totally cheesing in this picture.

Templeton decided to take matters into his own hands & get rid of the monkey, which Phillips didn't take well. Here he throws a glass of water on an unsuspecting Temp. This was not in the script, and if I remember, Temp was not happy about this improv. I later regretted taking out all the actual audio for the movie & doing voiceover (which I now understand is a lame move anyway) but only because after Phillips douses Temp with the water, Mike Casey exclaims "You're going crazy with that damn monkey...throwing water on people!" Thankfully I still have the master tape, though.

Temp helps Phillips cope with loss of Monkey.

Closing Credits. I think I actually made these things in MS Paint.

September 20, 2005


When Hench & Husband were visiting a few weeks ago, we watched Louis CK’s HBO One Night Stand. In it, he talked about why politicians can’t relate to regular people, and how it’s because politicians (re: rich people) don’t know what it’s like to be poor, but poor people know all about what it’s like to be rich. How we all have our “rich lives” planned out. It’s true. Just ask anyone I talk to on a regular basis about the castle I plan to build once I purchase my winning Mega Millions ticket, and you’ll be damned if they can’t list at least a half a dozen of it’s amenities.

I came to the most amazing epiphany yesterday, my 26th birthday.

You see, for decades it seems; the world, the media, and mostly Leslie, have declared that I need an iPod. The thought would wake me from sleep; “I don’t have an iPod. I am inadequate to exist in society.”

I would regularly cruise the Apple website, hoping for a miraculous price drop. I would vainly “customize” minis with a “PUNK BOOTY” engraving much in the manner that some girls pour through those “design your own engagement ring” websites. I even half-heartedly explored those “Get a free iPod” emails where you have to sign up for three offers of some sort, usually bailing when I realized even $5.95 in shipping & handling for some crappy product that I’d return immediately would break my sad bank.

So yesterday was my birthday. My office had the obligatory catch-all September birthday party, and lucky me it was actually on my birthday. Two of my lovely co-workers went in together and got me a fantastic present. Having heard me ramble on about iPods, they decided to shut me up and give me a 1 GB shuffle, gift receipt included.

And so the epiphany horse left the gate. My immediate thought was, “Goody, I’m halfway to a REAL iPod.” I figured I could hang on to the shuffle for a few weeks, and with my next pay I could skip into Circuit City & at least get a Nano. 1,000 isn’t what I NEED, apparently, but it’ll do.

You see, bringing it back to the Louis CK rich-life planned out line of thinking, I’ve realized that living in a dream-world for however little chunks of time as I do, I’ve subconsciously delineated where I can get a little piece of the good life, and iPod ownership made that list. I somehow believed that I was entitled to the best damn iPod possible. Until, that is, about 3:00pm, when, BING-BONG, it dawned on me that a Shuffle will do me just fine.

When I wake up in the morning, I listen to Howard Stern. No iPod necessary. In the car on the way to work? Howard. After December, my nifty Sirius will be taking care of that. At work I’m listening to Howard until he’s done, and for the rest of the day I’ve got a rather overgrown iPod substitute sitting on my desk in the form of a computer loaded up with every mp3 I’ve collected since the dawn of Napster back in the ORIGINAL SAC office. On the way home from work I listen to Breuer Unleashed on Sirius, and when I get home It’s all TiVo, all the time. So basically, the only timeslot left for music enjoyment is gym time, of which I can only handle about an hour/hour & a half at a time.

Further, I am a crazy-anal-retentive loon, and only being able to select 240 songs at a time is right up my alley. I can work out all sorts of whacked-out playlist schematics on a daily basis.

Another co-worker (and Leslie, ahem) have hinted that I am just settling, that I’d be singing a different tune had I a fancier iPod. BUT I SAY NAY! I am confident that my Shuffle-Acceptance, and dare I say, embracement, is the turn of a new leaf for me.

I think it was Sinead O’Connor who said, “I do not want what I haven’t got.” Or some other unselfish crap, but really, the song remains the same. I’ve hit the downhill skids of my 20’s. I need to spend a little less time planning my “rich life” and a little more time actually enjoying my poor life.

September 14, 2005

More Illustrations

Here's another "commissioned" piece i may or may not have done for someone I worked? with.
What do you guys think?
Am I doing anything or do these suck?

Is it just me?

or is Mark Ruffalo the male (romantic) lead in every single movie that has came out in recent months?

Not that I have anything against him, but where are the others?

I haven't seen a good romance film since Eternal Sunshine..and crap he's in that too!

September 13, 2005

The Perfect Nightclub

I'll say this blog is the result of an extended daydream which begin with a question (by G) that went something like this:
"If you won Mega-Millions, would you hire me?"

To which I responded, yes "You would be event planner, project coordinator at my nightclub - Destiny."

WHY DESTINY?... because it's GONNA HAPPEN regardless. The only question is..will you meet it?
A daydream is born.

My perfect nightclub, would be divided up like a grid. Split into two sections - couples on right side, singles on the left. My doormen (one that would look like Andre 3000, the other one Big Boi) would send each group to their respective side of the steps. This would remove most of the squabbling that results when couples/singles club together because the opposing partner would dance with someone else. Plus the only thing couples love more than their own coupliness is .....ANOTHER COUPLE. Also the pressure of hooking up that pesky third wheel party would be alieved because the wheel would have no choice but to go to the Singles section.

*Also as an added convenience to our couples we offer childcare hours of 12-3..a.m.

But fear not singles, DESTINY will take care of you. If you see no one you know, or no good options on the dance floor you will be furnished with an ON-Call hottie. Several generic hot escorts will dance with you, engage in conversation and occasionally pinch your behind just for that real club feel. Our waiters and waitresses work only for Mardi Gras beads.
Gas is high don't spend your money! Use beads!

Destiny is further divided into subfloors for all musical tastes. If you are lacking confidence in your two-step, join us for the Electric Cha-Cha slide. A floor continuously dedicated to the easiest dances known to man. Anybody can do this and look good. Test your skills here ladies before the "booty is on hydraulics" floor challenge. We also have a house music floor in the sublevels, that's right - bring your glow sticks and dance like you are having an epileptic fit.

Don't forget to check out our NO corner. Solely dedicated to those non-dancers that stand on the front lines of dignity and refuse to drop it likes its hot.

If you are hungry sit down in our lavish taco bar. Dip your bowl in the river of Salsa. Attitudes aside ladies no hamburger throwing allowed. That's all they serve is tacos, because ...that is MY FAVORITE FOOD (and it is.. my daydream).

If you find yourself too intoxicated, or sick from tacos, or err both; be sure to pass out on our SOFA. We only have one, but hell, I can't carry you and I don't want you driving.


September 9, 2005


I forgot that I've yet to recap my recent trip to NYC, and since we could all use some fluff around here, considering hurricanes, trigger-happy police, poverty all around (us three & abound), and countless other examples of crappery. Since it is Friday & my brain has ceased to work, I will outline my trip in little baby chunklets.

The Accommo

We stayed on the 17th floor of the famed Waldorf-Astoria, a hotel forever burned in my memory as the hotel that King & Queen Jaffe Jaffur stayed at in the film Coming to America. I have to say, my electronic friends, this hotel did not suck. Our room had a doorbell, which I thought was very lovely, if entirely useless as we only had one room. A light knock would have sufficed. The best thing about this hotel, aside from the cheesy bravado when ordering a cab driver to take you to the Waldorf, was how comfy the beds were. I would have been totally okay with just staying in bed watching Big Brother. Hey man, it's my vacation. I only have 480 thread-count at home!

The Tourist Traps:
We purchased something called a "New York Pass" which gets you into all sorts of crap, so we had a laundry list of places to go. Our first day there we did the Empire State Buidling, which I found sort of meh. Directly after was the NYC Skyride inside the Empire State Building which was equally meh, besides it being narrated by Kevin Bacon (Hench's man) & featuring a recently departed Scotty from Star Trek. In other landmarky-type stuff, we took the Circle Line cruise out to the Statue of Liberty. She's tall & green. That's about it.

We did the NBC Studios Tour, and the most exciting thing about that was che
cking out the clay figures from the claymation episode of Conan. Other than that, the NBC Studios Tour was a massive marketing campaign for HDTV (which our tour guide frequently flubbed as HGTV aka the evil network that dominates like 78% of my television watching time with all them damn House Hunters reruns). Seriously, they were pushing HDTV hard, probably cause they've gotta spend a bazillion dollars upgrading their shit & actually having to make decent sets (instead of using duct tape to indicate metal trim on the Dateline set, etc.), they'll make us spend a coupla bucks on a new damn tv to appreciate it.

Also on the tourist-trap route was the mandatory visit to Madame Toussaud's wax museum. Not that I've ever fronted like I'm some kind of sophisticated lady or anything, but goddamn this place is fun. Where else can you knee the President in the junk & not get tackled? I mean, I mysteriously have been audited in the two weeks since I've been there, but whatever!

Seriously though, I almost got put in wax museum jail as I have medically-documented poor balance. In trying to get this picture in, I nearly toppled our dear (pff!) president for reals.

Actual Culture:

We went to see Spamalot, starring my (gay?, I don't even know) boyfriend Tim Curry as the Arthur King. I can't even hate on Condi wanting to go see this shit cause it was the bizomb. The Lady of the Lake's costumes were so shiny & fantastical that the 5 year old in me was totally awoken and wanting to be her for Halloween.

Our shiny New York Pass allowed us to whisk to the front of the line at the Museum of Modern Art, where I stupidly forgot to bring my camera. Actually, I didn't know I was allowed to photograph anything so I didn't bother bringing it. But I did snap a pic of this OOF painting with my phone because I thought it would make a good wallpaper (on the phone). No, I didn't catch who painted the damn thing, and No I don't feel bad about that. I don't have conversations where I have to prove that I know crap about art, so I'll just save that real estate in my brain. Now, if we're talking about the history of the lives of the residents of a fictional town of Salem, USA as depicted on the critically-underappreciated television series Days of Our Lives, well, fasten your seatbelts. Because I DO often have to match wits on that business.

In other culture taking-ining, we also went to the Museum of Television & Radio. When I win the Mega Millions I am totally going to give this museum some money. It was D-O-P-E. First, you go up to the library, where you hopped on some 15 year old Apple computer & could look up any damn television or radio program in HISTORY. You could pick up to four & they send you down to the viewing room to check em out. So what did I do with this awesome opportunity to use the world's biggest TiVo? Watch JFK's funeral? No. First Moonwalk? No. Listen to the original War of the Worlds broadcast? NO! The three programs I chose were

(1. First Episode of Days of Our Lives, 1965: This was AWESOME. Alice & Tom before gray hair & Julie as a pre-teen! Also, soap operas were originally shot live so there were plenty of line flubs. The best part, though, was when Marie Horton's fiancee said (I think he was ad-libbing) "You wanton hussy!", when his fiancee intimated that she couldn't wait to get married so they could get busy.

(2. Conan's first show, 1994: I loves me some Conan.

(3. Last Episode of My So-Called Life : Holy crap. Brian Krakow! Even though this was, like, the greatest tv show of all time, I'm sort of glad it only lasted one season (like Freaks & Geeks) and didn't have a chance to get shitty.

So, those were the highlights (or lowlights, depending who you ask).