I'm Becoming My Mother

Which isn't all bad -- if I can start out by saying so. She's good people, mom. She's a sailor's daughter and good fun on a road trip. My little brother has told me before that I sound like mom on the answering machine and, like mom, I've reached the point where I can no longer handle my booze after 3 (in my hey-day I could take down 7 ... then 5 ... now it's 3). But the most telling aspect came after a visit to the doctor this week.

I'm 5'4".

Friends, I used to be 5'5.5".

It doesn't help that I'm also a wee bit heavier than I'm a'pposed to be, but all this time I thought I had some wiggle room because 147 and 5'5" isn't toooooo bad. But at 5'5"? No wonder I've got a belly! So everything squashes down (which is kind of okay since I've always had an absurdly long torso), but then it squashes out around the middle (not okay). Mom does not have that specific problem, although she is definitely shorter now than she was 5-8 years ago. But it's not osteo-blahblah. In fact, doc says I'm way healthy n' junk with 103% on the pulmonary test and effed up good blood, but I'm exhausted by my shhedule and have to go to bed at 8 for a while -- oh yeah, and I have disk compression. Boh. Che faro? Can't be helped, although it's not a bad time to start on the calcium.

kooky hooky

I'm supposed to be writing my film paper (Godard's use of jump cuts), but I can't seem to make it all come together. I'm actually supposed to be at work because, technically, since I'm out of school at 3 I can ride my bike back to work to be there to close the day ... but, man, I can't do it. I was hysterical yesterday just thinking of how far behind I am at school and how I could use this time for school stuff, and here I am blowing it off. But the sun came out today for the first time in weeks and thinking about Godard is really ridiculous. And I just saw that my friend D Wilton commented way back on a post and I didn't even see it, which reminds me that I don't talk to friends anymore or do anything but write papers and study the number of light-years in a parsec and what excites an electron and junk like that, and training two people at the same time and that's hard and dealing with weird morale issues in the office and that's harder and what the hell kind of life is this?

So I'm going to go watch some YouTube.

Or Oprah.

Or drink a Guinness.

Or watch Oprah on YouTube while I drink a Guinness. That's what all of my fellow students do. It's time I tapped into that lifestyle, man. Look! It's 4:20 whoooooooooooooooooo!

Vergeltung

I don't know if it was because it was midterm week, if it's the work at pressure and pressure at work, or what the hell made me do it, but last night I mixed. And then I worried.

Not only did I mix, but the first was gin. As reported here not too long ago, gin was my first drunk and for years, years, years, I couldn't touch the stuff. I couldn't go near it. I had to chew Razzles just at the thought of the taste. I've been working my way back slowly, and started off last night with an innocent enought Richmond gimlet. Well, the lime juice ran out and we were still talking and having a good time, so like a beginner-drunk, I changed to pomegranate vodka martinis. Mother of mercy -- it was the end of Rico.

I haven't felt like this is in ages. I went through two (count-em, two) bags of pretzels and I'm still shaking. I haven't done any homework and my inability to move nearly got me trapped watching "Watership Down" on cable -- thank God the cousin/roommate stepped in and saved me with "Urban Cowboy". Speaking of, I'm shocked SHOCKED that my pal Joey, who is in both my media and my film class, had never heard of "Urban Cowboy". And he calls himself a cinefile ... I mean, sure, he's about 19 or something, but still. I watch movies made before my time all the time. But what a reminder that today's fad is yesterday's forgotten.

Cahhhhhhhhhhh I wish I could forget yesterday, but it keeps coming up again.

nouvelle vague

Found this while trolling for Godard clips on You Tube. Wonderfully sweet.

2008 Testing - Raikkonen sets searing pace

World Champion Kimi Raikkonen continued Ferrari's domination of Forumla One's Bahrain test by setting a searing pace at the Sakhir circuit for the second day in a row.

I really don't think I need to add to that.

Domination, friends. Dom. I. Nation.

Holy smokes! I just realized it's Fat Tuesday and we haven't even stocked up on fish yet. feck.

The Law of Diminishing Marginal Benefit

Just took the first Economics midterm and apparently failed it. You know on "Cash Cab" when they get one wrong and then just continue to get the following questions wrong until they're thrown out on the street? It was like that. I was doing well, I thought, until question 14 and then it all just kept going right downhill. There were 10 questions in one group all related to the same equation and I'm pretty sure I got one right, but the rest were guessed. If the answers didn't match any of the ones listed it's "None of the Above" right?

So for the last 30 minutes I've been replaying the same New Order song over and over like a sullen teenager and trying to scrape it together to study for the next two midterms.

School is a drag.

Speaking of drags, I finished "God's Chinese Son." Everyone dies. Badly. Well, except for God's Chinese son, who dies of illness and escapes the slow death by dismemberment that his generals get. Man, those crazy Taipings. I'm trying to balance out the bummer by reading the comic-novel "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" ... which is making me laugh out loud while sitting in public places. I highly recommend it.

B B See?

God bless the Eugene Public Library.

Not only did they have "Green For Danger" (Criterion as well ... I've got tingles), but they also have the beloved series "Danger UXB" as well as "Reilly: Ace of Spies" which I once watched all 12 episodes of one lost Sunday in San Francisco -- swear, all of a sudden it was 3 in the afternoon and I was still in a bathrobe sitting on my bed. I'd spent the entire morning and afternoon drinking coffee and eating PopTarts because it was on KQED so no commercial breaks to make real food in the kitchen downstairs (barely enough time for the bathroom, but the less said on that the better).

If only they had "The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin" -- that would be Great! Supah!

Taxes Blow

Do it one way and I'm getting $1100 back. Do it another and I'm paying $46. What the f..? Could it be any more irritating? This is the big reason not to buy a house. I mean, aside from not being able to afford it and stuff. I can't even work this out with a student loan.

The replacement pet, Veda, is settling in pretty well. She knows how to use the cat box and thinks I'm great, so what more is necessary? She's different from Cat in many, many ways, which is good, because I don't want to cry every time I pick her up (ohhhhhhhh Cat used to do that wahhhhhh wahhhhh wahhhhhhhh) because that's girly and weak.

Got 3 midterms this week (having already taken the Astronomy one) and I'm training 2 new people at work. How do I do it? Pringles and Guayaki Yerba Mate, friends, and lots of crying (ohhhhhhhh why are there only 24 hours in a day wahhhhhh wahhhhhh wahhhhhhhh). Already scored an A on my first film paper 'though. phhft Neorealism, what's to know? And go ahead, ax me about Doug Sirk. Go on. Actually at the risk of having this come out wrong, I'd like to thank Hitler, because if it wasn't for the Nazis we wouldn't have Eastman Color or magnetic tape, both of which made Mr. Sirk (also in the US, thanks to the Nazis) king of the 1950's. We also wouldn't have Billy Wilder. Can you imagine a world without Wilder? What if all he made was crazy German-language stuff? Thank you, demonic, evil German empire.

Today's Mailbag

This came through by email at work today:

dear my grilfriend do you love me baby cause I love grilfriend may you like to kiss I by I love you and I kiss you I am 18 year old baby donyt think about it

I love working with office supplies. You meet so many innnnnnteresting people.

A little from column A. A little from column B.

- purchases -
I thought the day I found Cliff Richard's "Devil Woman" on 45 was the best shopping moment of my life. Not so. Land's End Chalet shoes are the BOMB. They came just in time yesterday to walk through the snow to the bus stop. I'm tempted to ride the Le Tour in them today -- yes, it's still icy and will probably snow again, but I've got 4 interviews at work and 2 classes in between, you do the math. Bus don't go 'round here, law dog. And since the University of Oregon has a No-School-Closure-Until-An-H-Bomb-Drops policy, I've got to bundle up in 3 layers of clothes and hit the road. T'anks God for Lands End, that's all I'm sayin'.

- pet -
Waiting to pick up a Siamese named Checkers. Cousin/roommate and I are really against having a pet named after a Nixon graft scandal, so we're re-naming her Veda, after the spoiled bad girl in "Mildred Pierce". Trouble is the shelter's been closed because of the weather ... if only they all had Land's End Chalet shoes ...

- peevish -
Economics was canceled yesterday, so the exam is pushed back until next Monday, but while I was failing the pop quiz last Friday I realized that I've suddenly started living only in the present. I can remember 5 minutes ago, but not 2 days ago. Supply curve and the equilibrium? It was a complete mystery. It's just goes somewhere out of my head when I leave the class and I'm sure it's connected with Alzheimer's or the death of the pet. Anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking with it all the way through the end of term. Maybe I can get some pity points -- which some kids were trying to get in Astronomy yesterday because they went to a funeral last week and couldn't study ... it had nothing to do with that bud with the long stem they had afterwards that was, dude, so awesome.

Oh pet, my pet

So, I'm not a cat person. Honest. I don't have a collection of Life Magazines in the closest or fluffy pink sweatshirts or junk like that. I'm regular folk. But, man, this has been a really hard week to get through without something fluffy to welcome me home (barring cousin/roommate). I'm desperate for a replacement pet, and I almost picked one up at the animal shelter, but cousin/roommate noticed a wonky eye and made me step away. Not that I have to have the perfect pet, but I just don't think I can handle another dose of deciding whether an animal lives or dies. It's just not my thing. Can I just get one without a wonky eye, diabetes, kitty HIV or chiggers? Am I asking for too much?

To help through the week I've been failing classes, trying to finish "God's Chinese Son" (which is really good, but I keep running out of time in the day to read it), and sorting through "The Best American Nonrequired Reading 2007" edited by my hero, Dave Eggers. Among the tonic inside:

Best American Names of Horses Expected to Have Undistinguished Careers

Ayn Rand's Condescending Sigh
Exit Strategy
For the Love of God Run Faster
Hell is Other Horses
- and my favorite:
Tripsy McStumble

Go buy this book. Buy it now. Even if it's just for "Bathing Ed Asner" (that's all I'm sayin').

I just noticed that the last post was dated January 15th. That was when I started one about some nerdy "Blade Runner" topic and then had kept it to be edited later ... which I never did and just used the area for the pet blog. She passed away on Friday ... which makes it look like I was physic.

My Pet

So, this week Cat did not get better. She was still taking the steroids, but things deteriorated really fast. She was aware that cousin/roommate and I were in the room and figured that we were decent folk because we fed her n' stuff, but she just didn't seem to know really who the hell we were or why we were in her space. Her left leg was dead -- I'd pull on a claw and get no reaction. She didn't even get out of bed or eat yesterday.

Rather than take her in the car (which she hated) to the humane society, I called a house call vet, who gently put Cat to sleep on her favorite comforter. We played Cecilia Bartoli singing Mozart arias (Cat liked the Carpenters, and I had put it on, but at "We've Only Just Begun" I had to take it off the record player), and it was really lovely and still makes me cry, because it was very sweet and gentle, and I hope one day they make that service available for people.

RIP jungle cat

Mas

Two things left off of the Oregon Week in Review:

The rain paints from REI are sweeeeeeeet sweetback. Thank you, Santa! And I broke my pedals on the bike on Day 3, but they were replaced with pedals from the cousin/roommate's dad's old bike (not a Schwinn) and they're nice, like safety first solid feckin' a nice. Don't get me wrong, I loved the old school Japanese craftsmanship of the Schwinn, and, in considering the overall appearance of the La Tour, they were certainly part of the ambiance, but they broke like glass. End of story. If only there was a bicycle pick-a-part ...

And, all things considered, after looking at them side-by-side ... for all his faults Wes Anderson is more entertaining than Vittorio de Sica. Man ... "The Bicycle Thief" is just a great big super double-bummer.

That is all.

The moral of the story is ...

Yesterday cousin/roommate and I went to the Pick-A-Park junk yard. Every time we pass it on the way to the supermarket I bounce around the car and make monkey sounds like my cousin's German pointer used to do when we went to the dog park.

You're supposed to sign in and pay a dollar to go in. We signed in, but didn't pay the dollar. They didn't make us sign out, so do they think we're still in there somewhere ...? It's a mystery.

There were lots of sweet cars. Really old Saabs, a Rambler, some fun panel vans like my dad used to have, and plenty of great treasures.

I axed the cousin/roommate where the cars came from, because a lot of them still had personal junk inside -- one even had toys, some had clothes, most of them had owners manuals and maps. He said they come from accidents where the car is totaled or they were in tow yards and no one picked them up.

So I peek into this Volkswagon and it's got two holes in the windshield, and the front end is pushed in and the top is crushed, and on the floor inside were about 20 empty cans of Coors Light.

Dude. It was worse than thrift shops: the clothes may be from people who died, but you don't really which ones. It could be that the sweater just didn't fit anymore. There's way to tell. And, sure, maybe those cans are from later when it sat in some empty lot somewhere, but since Pick-A-Part has an electric fence, it's unlikely that they were some recent addition. So it really kind of creeped me out.

The trucks with the buckshot holes tho' ... that's cool ...

I wonder if they'd let me in with a camera. I'd pay the dollar this time.

Oregon Week in Review

Economics -- so you add the sunk cost to the opportunity cost or to the overall cost? And if it changes the value, why does going to a party still have a better net worth than going to the movies even if you've already bought the movie ticket?

Astronomy -- the first day I thought he was speaking in tongues because I was so flippin' tired, and he was doing an overview of last term. I thought I was going to cry. Day 2 was better. We learned how light is a particle and a wave -- dude, it's like physics n' stuff!

Media Aesthetics -- probably going to end up being the class with the most work to do, which is kind of okay and kind of not. Time is a sunk cost. But we get to watch some decent movies ("Halloween") and I like the instructor -- he was my GTF for History of Film last year and is a good egg. I think we may have differing opinions about John Wayne, and the meaning of the burning house in "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance" but that's okay.

History of Film -- it's all global cinema, with the exception of "Rebel Without a Cause" and the 1976 version of "King Kong" (as an aside: I once said that if I was a guest speaker in the cousin's film class I'd show Ken Russell's "Mahler" ... now I understand how badly that would go down). The discussion section is irritating -- this week some oldster blabbed on about his last trip to Beijing and took up time which could have been spent discussing the effing film. But, whatever. We'd seen Zhang Ke Jia's "The World" and it was okay ... I don't know, anytime there's suicide at the end, it just screams "cop out" to me (yes, even "Romeo and Juliet"), so maybe it's better we didn't discuss it. This week we're watching the "Bicycle Thief" which I've got to somehow work into a presentation about "Hotel Chevalier" -- my partner has fallen into the "Wes Anderson as God" trap and really, really, really wants to use that for our film example. He'll require some leveling out if we're going to make this 3 minute presentation work. Vittorio de Sica ... Wes Anderson ... you know I love Wes, but ... well, you do the math.

Salvation Post

For everyone who has Googled me for a patiza / potica recipe, your moment has arrived. Fellow-blogger Marigold has provided your key to pastry heaven.

Click on THIS

For help on rolling the dough go to You Tube and search on "Naked Potica Movie" and you'll see my cousin (and friends) put it together on the dining room table.

Or just click on THIS

First Day Back - This is not a Haiku

- pens - check
- books - sort of check
- notebooks (what good are notebooks) - check
- air in the bike tires - check
- scotch guard on the new tai chi stick bag - so check
- rain jacket - check
- rain pants - check
.... oh, but it's snowing, not raining ... I don't have snow pants

cruel cruel nature.

I Heart Gritty Scottish Crime

In the last night of free media watching, cousin/roommate and I finished up watching the "Dead Giveaway" episode of "Taggart"-- by the way, the title seems to have nothing to do with the plot. I'm just sayin' ...

You haven't seen "Taggart"?? What's wrong with you? It was the Queen Mum's favorite show! I haven't seen the newer ones without Mike, and I only saw one or two after Taggart died, but it's the classic, older ones that are really worth watching. They employed more locals than the Glasgow Jobcentre.

Nuts that most of the DVD's are only available in the UK on that Region 2 encoding. Why? Why? Why? "Secrets", "Nest of Vipers" -- only in the UK. Cousin/roommate is fond of "Rogues' Gallery" which I have on a shaky television tape, and that's not available here or abroad. Dude, why?

However, in my search for episodes I found this available on Amazon:

I wouldn't ever wear anything like this, but I find it a comfort just to know it exists.

Madame Hateful's Predictions for 2008

I will fail Economics. Me + math = wha? Proof of this: I was not short about $300 on my school fees, but over. The amount having just been direct deposited into my bank by my school (which will subsequently be transferred back to the school when I buy all of the books I blew off buying last week -- 5 books for Economics and all over $70 ... used. What a racket. There's also a new edition of the film book I bought last year, which either means they've kept it current with recent examples and I'm f**ked, or they changed 2 words in Chapter 5 and they're just out to make a buck).

Cat will get better. I know, this is really dopey hopeful, but she chirped at birds the other day and this morning remembered that hitting the alarm clock is what wakes me up (she tries to hit it herself to make me get out of bed and feed her). She's still limpy and sleepy, but maybe the Barry Bonds are working finally. I've never had a pet die on me, or have had to personally consider taking them down the long walk. That was always dad's job. These have been strange days.

The political vision is very fuzzy. Though if Fred Thompson wants to run for President I think the field should be opened up to Scott Glenn, Courtney B. Vance, Alec Baldwin or any of the other memorable actors from "The Hunt for Red October." I'd vote for Jonesy in a half-minute. ("Con-sonar-crazy Ivan!")

I predict it will be rainy in Oregon this year.

That is all.

This Year, Next Year

As a (trying to be a) practicing Daoist, I'm loathe to pick a best and worst moment of last year ... but since I hate so many things so actively you can tell that the Daoism is shaky. The real reason I'm loathe to pick best and worst is because I can't remember what happened this year and what happened last year and how it works into this great tapestry we will call life.

Although I remember that visual journalism class sucked. And then I failed the grammar test (after being a complete egomaniac about the Info Hell project -- me not know grammar? that's unpossible!). Then I turned 40 and spent the day in the California desert driving home from Vegas and having dinner at Wiernerschnitzel when we got back to mom's house. Then the car got hit again and residual damage from the previous accident (hello, Geico? yeah, if the body shop finds damage from the accident last year and ... oh, the case is closed? can you reopen? yeah, i know she was uninsured and ... oh never mind) cost me $1200. And two people at work left (one voluntarily; one not so much) at the busiest time of the year, which has lead to much overtime and stress.

Oh and the cat's tumor. It apparently is a tumor based on the tests -- her left side does not have the same sensitivity as the right, but she's not walking in circles or hissing, so they put it down to an on-going issue and not the results of a stroke. Now she's on steroids like Barry Bonds to see if that takes down the swelling, and she's still mobile and relatively happy and just walks a little funny and drinks and pees too much, so she's not a goner yet.

And the visual class did allow me to make a Formula 1 magazine that I was quite proud of, no matter what the grade was. And I passed the second grammar test, which was the last time they gave it, so I was saved from sitting in the boring grammar class. And my big birthdays have always been disasters (no alcohol on my 21st; food poisoning on my 30th), so the absence of flash-flooding means that the 40th was actually a great success, because I loves the Wiernerschnitzel corndogs, which are in absence here in Oregon. And my car drives better now that it's fixed and the brake light doesn't stay on anymore. And I got the cousin/roommate a job in one of the positions that needed filling and he's doing great even when he's sitting in the fire of customer craziness.

So, in the spirit of attempting to practice Daoism, overall it looks like the major events of the year are actually quite balanced and nature is still in control of the situation.

All hail 2008!

Christmas with My Special Needs Cat

New Year's Countdown coming soon, but wanted to pop in quickly to explain the absence.

It's mostly because of work being what it is, although I'm really trying to not go in at 7 and leave at 5. I'm really, really trying. But then nothing gets done. La. But it's also because my cat, Cat, who has this weird dilated-eye thing going on, which I thought was just a weird dilated-eye thing, and she's drinking a lot of water, which may be because she's big and black and when you're that furry and dark and sit in front of the heater vent all day you're going to get dehydrated, but then I call the animal hospital and the vet freaks me out with "Well, I'd be worried if it was my kitty" -- and, if you know me, then you know I'm a sucker for that line. I'm the schmo that buys junk at Buffalo Exchange because the nose-pierced sales girl says "Oh, I'd totally get that if it was me" even though it's a size too small and yellow. But I digress. Tell me you'd do anything if you were me and I'll usually end up doing it, like worrying in a panic about the cat.

So I take in kitty-kitty, which she hates and causes much noxious emissions as she's forced into the cage and then the car and then the vet, and they draw blood and she conveniently pees on the table so they get a urine sample, and they do tests and call me and it's not Cat AIDS and it's not diabetes and it's not leukemia -- so what the f..k is it, man?

She's going back in for behavioral tests today because they think it may be a brain tumor. Dude. First of all, I don't know what they hope to accomplish on these tests because she's going to be freaked out by the cage/car/vet for the second time in a week and is not going to willingly participate in any thing, but I can't imagine what they have set up for a test. Does she have to touch her nose with her paw and recite the alphabet backwards? Not that she can't, I'm just sayin' ...

But if it does turn out to be a tumor ... well, so she'll have special needs, I guess, and we'll truck her around in a wagon with a crash helmet if we have to. As long as she's happy.

The good news is she purred this morning for the first time in days, so I think she's getting better -- if that can be said about a brain tumor ... if it is a brain tumor. And, honestly, not to be cheap, but having just shelled out $1200 on the car and my entire Oregon tax kicker check (+ $10) on her first visit, I'm running out of funds for kitty behavioral tests. That and apparently my student loan is roughly $300 short of what I need for fees this term. Mother. Scrubber. That's what I get for being an official major at the J-school, yo.

"Gubmint do take a bite, don't she?"

then I got even MORE sleep

You know how people who have lived through the Depression are really weird about spending money, even if they have it to spend? They could have thousands in the bank, but they're not going to touch it, because they know that within a second it could all disappear.

I feel the same way about time off. I always suspect that when there's nothing to do I'm actually just forgetting that there's something to do. I can't trust the wealth of time and I have no idea how to spend it when I have excess hanging around.

I kept thinking yesterday that I had to get out and do something. We have to go to the market, we have to put gas in the car, we have to go into work and make the coffee so people don't freak out when there isn't any on Monday and and and... and I didn't really have to do any of that junk.

It wasn't until about 3 o'clock yesterday that I realized I could relax without penalty. I actually read a book and watched silly television. Long live leisure.

Oh feck -- have to go to work.

and then I got some sleep

Okay, so the brothers are speaking to each other.
And it's getting a little quieter at work, although the mornings are still pretty horrendous (phone calls ring/are ya listenin').
And we rented another installment of Taggart, although it turns out it's an episode I already have on a Pal-converted video, but it was still fun to watch it without listening to the sound go wonky (yes I knorwr the city liawke a lowvah).
And I promised myself as a Christmas present that I would not work this weekend.
So maybe things will even out.
I was just a little over-yanged there. Yin is coming back at last.

I'm Mrs. Black Christmas. I'm Mrs. Grrrrrr.

I'm going to start a crusade against Christmas. Not against religion or holidays or any kind of spiritual celebration. You keep your religion and your feast days. But I don't get this kind of hassle during Passover or Ramadan.

Why do people yell at me on the phone because the stapler they ordered won't be there in time for Christmas morning? Will it honestly ruin Christmas if it gets delivered on December 26th?? And why aren't my brothers speaking to one another? Why isn't my little brother speaking to me? (Although, having not spoken to him in some time there's a good chance that he did not recognize my email address when it came through, but I seem to remember getting along with the brother and wife quite well the last time we met up.) Why is Christmas a monster instead of just a day off?

This is one day out of the year. One day. It's not the most important day -- and, if you're Daoist, there is no most important day ... except maybe Halloween -- and stuff that you can get on this day, you can usually get any other day. You can be nice to people any day you want and see family any day you want. Why the f**k is it so important that we all drop everything to get on planes, spend money we don't have and generally freak out if things don't go as planned on Christmas? Since I'm not yet the Papal See I don't have definite information on this, but I'm willing to bet that even the Christian God is irritated by the hypocrisy that gets thrown around in His name.

I declare the following truths to be self-evident: if you need to buy jewelry to make for a special Christmas, you have other issues you're not dealing with; if you can call you friends, brothers/sisters, mother on Christmas, you can call them on January 8, May 3, September 20, etc...; cards are nice to get any time of the year; and if things aren't going to work out as planned on December 25th, reschedule them for December 29th or January 8 or May 3 or September 20, etc...

And, before you get in my dish, yes, I realize that I've been suckered into the panic. I sent out cards, we put up a string of lights in the window, I made presents for my family and shipped them out to be delivered in time for Christmas. It's because I keep falling for the holiday freak fest that I'm taking this stance. It's turning my hair white and making me fear for humanity when I hear about families not speaking and people losing control over rubberbands.

If this plan fails and next year is bad again, I'm moving to Vanuatu and letting the ocean swallow me up.

In Praise of Older Postings

I loves the Site Meter. Not only because it shows me how many people are interested in potica, but also because I can see what pages people were looking at when they hit the blog. Today it linked back to an older post where I referenced this great band call The Miss Alans. On the link I found a comment from a blogger named Neon Desert telling me that The Miss Alans are NOT from Bakersfield, as once assumed, but are actually from Fresno. Now, I'm sure this comes as no surprise to anyone else and you probably couldn't care less, but it reminded me of the "everything is Los Angeles" theory in that I figured Bakersfield and Fresno were interchangeable locations.

Fresno is 110 miles from Bakersfield.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I've officially become one of those people.

So, from now on, all of California -- with the possible exception of those splitters in San Francisco, Berkeley and Davis -- is Los Angeles.

It's just easier that way.

The 12 Hates of Christmas

12. Holiday jewelry commercials

11. Parties that require a date (or where you're singled out when you don't have one)

10. Cards and the stress over whether or not to hand them out at work

9. Getting called "ma'am" at stores

8. Stress at work then stress at home because there's no time to do a f-ing thing to relax

7. Holiday television specials (except Rudolph, but only because Yukon Cornelius licks his pick axe)

6. Malls and people throwing things at your from kiosks or wanting to put lotion on your hands or "Clean your holiday jewelry, ma'am?"

5. Traffic and people who can't drive in it

4. Not finding the right gift for family members who hate you and are looking for an excuse to justify that hate by pointing to the fact that you bought a Costco gift basket instead of looking for that special something you thought they'd like, knowing they wouldn't like it

3. Airports and why I have to sit next to the stinky, sleepy guy on the plane every time

2. Not being in an airport because yet again I can't afford or have time to visit the family that I can't buy things for because they won't like it because they're looking for an excuse yah yah yah

1. Christmas music, and co-workers who think that changing to the other radio station that plays 24-hours of that fake happy sing-along shite is going to make a difference. "Oh, there's a better variety on this one." Let's call the emperor naked, okay? They all play "Jingle Bell Rock" on the hour, every hour.

Exception -- The Carpenters singing "Merry Christmas Darling" ... when I hear her sing about how the logs on the fire fill her with desire it cracks me up every time.

So this is Christmas

Just realized I have 10 days to buy people stuff.

fa la la

The holidays have this habit of making non-internet people go online and harass internet people. At my office we have to be both the Walmart Greeter and head clerk at the Nordstrom Ladies Shoe Department. You have to put on that shiny face and pretend that the 1000th phone call you're receiving is your first of the day and then you have to scan the catalog for product after product after product after product only for them to say "Can I get this cheaper somewhere else?"

Why doesn't Santa make everything? That would be so much easier. I'd be out of a job, but screw it. Let the elves sort it out, man. This blows.

If the other kids in the department weren't playing that effing Christmas music all day I might be able to hang on to my wits better. Sometimes (usually in the middle of a Kenny G carol or one of the American Idol finalists belting out "O Holy Night" oh night ... deVINE) I just want to put a brick through something ... like my head.

Other brick breaking stories:
I've turned in the Honda for fixin' and I'm driving a Mitsubishi something for the next 4 days. Dude, it's so rental. I'm so close to the road I might as well put my feet through the floor to start it up like Fred and Barney. But it has a CD player and really nice heat. I just have to keep from stomping the brake while looking for the absent clutch ... fah ... automatics ...

I'm a genius at school with an A+ in sociology (kids, society is unequal, let me tell you) and a P for pass in Astronomy. The verdict is still out on journalism, but I got an A on the final project and an A- on my feature story so that's got to rate for something, right? whatever. school's for swabs.

And Hatton lost to "Money" Mayweather, so Santa is a welcher ... which is fine because Mayweather's better n' stuff, but, jaysis, he sure can mouth off.

A-I-D-A Attention, Interest, Decision, Action

So the marketing side of me -- the dark side, the evil side, the Vader side -- says I should mention potica (or patiza) in every blog entry so I can drive more visitors into my page. The decent side of me -- the light side, the good side, the Mother Theresa Skywalker side -- reminds me that I really don't know the first flippin' thing about making a potica (although I know plenty about eating it), and it's dishonest to keep up the charade just to get strangers to stop in.

But now that I have your attention ...

It's so tempting to throw out some Communist ideology, anecdotal stories from my knowledge of the life of Robert Louis Stevenson, or my theory on why "The Little Drummer Boy" is the worst Christmas song ever and how that's increased infinitely by the version done by Bob Seger.

But really ... how important is all that compared to making really good cheesy pastry bread?

But, to all of you coming through on Google, I really don't know how to make it. Sorry.

And in case I don't get a chance later -- Santa, all I want for Christmas is for Hatton to defeat Mayweather. Thank you.

oh yeah, one more thing ... Every day for the past week Yahoo weather's highs and lows for Eugene are either currently lower than the low or higher than the high. The high/low today? 54 high, 44 low. It's 7 am now and it's already 55. How's a girl to dress for that? It's like that game on Price is Right where you have to guess whether it'll go HIGHER! HIGHER! or LOWER! LOWER!

The name is Lane. Lois Lane.

Term's over! Jaysis, having 2 finals on the same day kind of blows ... and is kind of good because now I'm done and can let the pet use the astronomy notes as a cat toy. Not only that, but today is the first day of the rest of my life. I signed my name to a form that states I'd like to officially major in Journalism -- I know, I know ... I don't really like the department and the experiences in the classrooms are hit and miss, and, sure, yeah, the English Department really is better, but I've only got 5 terms left to play with my education, so I guess I've got to go with the original plan. The government loans are going to cripple me as it is. I can't really push it another year by changing over.

I did make one important change, tho' ... I've ditched Magazine for Newspaper/Editorial.

I add it up this way: the next year and a half I'm going to have to slug through 16 credits per term if I'm going to graduate within a reasonable amount of time. This means stress (or more so) because I'm also pushing for the film certificate, and the idea of having to deal with that and design classes again in the magazine group ... good God, I just couldn't do it. I'm a writer not a draw'rer -- as if it was drawing, anyway, when we all know that it's really just pushing a mouse around and developing carpel tunnel and tendonitis. But I digress. I don't want to design a magazine, I just want to write for one, and that wasn't working out, so rather than be seduced by the dark side and bow down to the power of Flux (that's the name of our campus magazine ... it's a 17th century disease, ain't it?), I ditched it. It's just not my thing, man.

I still don't see myself as the ambulance chaser or the one that pretends to be married to Jean-Claude Van Damme so I can get the exclusive story on the horrors of the Canadian prison system, and maybe I still want to work for Star or People, but the reality is that maybe it's time the Register-Guard stopped reprinting Roger Ebert's film reviews and started letting some local knowledgeable film type tell you what to spend your 8 bucks on. Am I right people?

yeah...

I Who Know Nothing

La Lars talked me into the Site Meter for the blog and at first it was really depressing because every day it had 0 visits.

Total 0
Average per day 0
Average visit length 0:00

And then Deepfry left a message on the post and I figured out that I hadn't figured it out because I didn't link it because I'm estoopid. doh!

And speaking of dough, I get all kinds of referrals from people looking into how to make a potica, but they spell it just like I did: patitza. I feel a kinship growing with these strangers. I wish I had more to offer than the somewhat shallow creation documentation and link to the video (click here), but I really have no idea how it's made, my friends, and I like to keep it that way. Potica is magic at the hands of my cousin, and if I want to believe it's made of fairy dust and cheese and pastry and some harmful addictive substance, well ... that's all I have to offer.

I have to study for finals now. Keppler's laws and how they explain the worker's control of the means of production on the high-pressure atmosphere of Venus where they make Walmart shirts at 3 cents an hour.

Happy Anniversary

Almost one year to the day of the Thanksgiving rear-ender, I got tagged again. This time the other driver has insurance, but was trying to save money for her wedding. Dude, why do I get all the boo-hoo people going after my bumper? I felt sorry for her (especially because of the string of obscenities I let fly in her direction when I got out of the car) until she said I had writing like her friend -- was I Becky's mom?

pfft man, I've got to dye my hair.

Anyway, no pictures because we didn't have the camera and I still really have no idea how the camera works on the phone, but you can look at last year's photos and get the idea. This time it wasn't a Geo, but a 97 Jetta ... which, in terms of how the hood buckles, means that they're about the same. Both of her headlights were crushed and we told her to call a tow-truck because it sounded like the radiator was popped. Me? No outside damage, but it's got that rattle again, which probably means waiting for a exhaust system part at Midas again.

No Shop. Eat.

Passed through the No Shopping Day better than expected. I bought a coffee mug at the brother's insistence, but it was a locally-made craft n' stuff, so it doesn't promote gross consumerism or sweatshop policies.

Although, I really have no idea know how the mug is made. For all I know the guy selling them has 14 children in a barn outside of Springfield, all of them chained to their pottery wheels. It's Oregon, anything is possible.

I was going to post another You Tube movie today, but I didn't for 2 very important reasons:
- ................... okay maybe only 1 somewhat important reason.

Archival Clothing has already posted it. Click here. Or click on la lars on the link bar.

For more information on making potica you can visit your public library or check out some ancient documentation on How to Make a Patitza . I never did bother to fix the spelling ... it looks prettier with the "itza".

'Foux Da Fa Fa'

Yes, another Flight of the Conchords clip, but for 2 very important reasons:
- I wanted to remove the "300" underwear from the top of the page
- It's great

Other People's Mail - Holiday Edition

I've decided that there's only one catalog worthy of Christmas presents this year -- no, not the Buddhist one, although the big prayer cloak still looks mighty warm. No, this year, you're all getting goods from Museum Replicas Limited.

For the fellas -- these lovely "300" briefs -- just like the movie (or I should say that as JUST. LIKE. THE MOVIEEEEEEEEEEEEE).

Comes with adjustable rear snaps for a better fit. I guess if you have to pee you unsnap the front? I don't know. Not my problem.

For the ladies, a leather corset -- because, honestly, those nippers they sell at Penney's don't really tuck you in quite like real leather. And look how it boosts the yays. Who wouldn't want one of these? I like the wee jacket too, with the fringing fun sleeves and bolero front, but you have to buy that separately. Might be worth it ... could wear it as a shrug on cold days ...

This catalog's also got Venetian stilettos, "feasting utensils" (listed under "feastware") and a complete Knight's Templar Ensemble.

Honestly, if I hadn't discovered boys in the 10th grade, I'd probably be saving up for the Deluxe Cape.

Just so's you know, this is my 8th straight day of work and it looks like I'm going for 10 full days of job. My mom, of course, has been laid off. Is this cosmic balance? non lo so.

Did I mention I have 2 midterms this week?

So I'm kinda loopy.

'Mutha Uckers'

It's been one of those weeks -- "I need my red delicious"

me = racing geek

Today's Yahoo News:

Bernie: Crown Raikkonen or I quit
Eurosport - Wed, 14 Nov 12:37:00 2007

Formula One Chief Executive Bernie Ecclestone has threatened to walk away from the sport if Kimi Raikkonen's newly-won world championship is snatched away after McLaren appealed the Brazilian GP

As much as I love Kimi, the idea that it would be this easy to get rid of Bernie Ecclestone ... geez ... it's mighty tempting.

Kimi drives a Ferrari. He can win next year.

We're Number whatever

Go Ducks. With work turning into a full time gig and school winding down into finals, I actually did find the time to watch one of them thar football things a coupla weeks yonder. We're kind of a one-man team, but that's the nature of sport, really. Maybe we're 2 men, but still. We're number one.

Go Ducks. But, and I'm not saying this in a mean way ... although maybe I am, I don't know, but I'm old -- honest, I'm not like those kids out there -- but these guys look older. Some of them must be 30. At least. They're adults dressed like kids ("uh ... yeah ... I graduated last year - YO! CLASS OF OH-SIX!") trying to get away with the college experie... oh ... wait. That's me.

Go Ducks. And, not for nothin' but, I don't recognize any of those guys from campus. Maybe they do everything by e-course or maybe they're like rock stars and have to sneak into buildings to keep the crowds down. Although, a quick check of the roster shows that Political Science, Sociology and Business are the big football majors, so I don't really truck in their halls of learning anyway. Hell, who am I kidding, they'll all end up with Journalism (ESPN) jobs before I will. Who cares what their major is?

He was what he was.

So long, Norman.

Dreamlog Revisited

So for the past 2 nights I've had these horrible, vivid nightmares. Last night some Louisiana (no really) mafia guy was coming into my house with a gun -- I know because I saw him through the fish-eye -- and the night before it was Mike Rowe (no. really.) from "Dirty Jobs" shooting at me through the halls of a Home Depot.

What does it mean? I don't feel persecuted (I don't think so anyway) or particularly vulnerable ... geez, is Freud full of crap? What the hell -- why 2 nights in a row? WHAT DOES IT MEAN?

Then I read the New York Times this morning:

No Country for Old Men (2007) NYT Critics' Pick

YAY! The new Coen brothers movie is here! Hooray!
And Tommy Lee Jones as a Texas sheriff again ... I never get tired of seeing him in uniform. Much better stereotype than the Brian-Dennehy-bad-cop or Tony-Danza-as-Tony 'types.

(not much) PROGRESS (to) REPORT

Met with my adviser yesterday and was told that I had so far done a pretty good job setting up my classes without their help (good), but at the rate I was going it was going to take me 7 more terms to finish school (bad). I had filled my requirements for Social Science and the Arts (good), but I still need two terms each of Science-Science and Economics (bad). I can only take one more Astronomy course for the Science requirement (bad bad bad).

I get it, well-rounded. I get it. But is there a science out there that doesn't use math? Maybe the Physics of Light and Color or something ... I don't know. fahhhhhhh so I have to increase my class schedule, somehow continue my full-time job so I can keep the 401K and dental insurance (dental plan -- Lisa needs braces -- dental plan -- Lisa needs braces) and take science and economics instead of more classes about TV detectives, etc.... School blows.

Fear

This was posted on Craig's List today:

My white Schwinn Le Tour 10spd early 80's vintage bike was stolen on Sunday evening off a #67 LTD bus after 7:30pm on the last run to Delta Oaks. If you saw a person take this bike off that bus, or see the bike in the area, please contact me as there is a reward offered for info leading to the return of the bike.
The bike has german silver fenders, an alloy rear bike rack,drop handle-bars with bar-tip shifters on the bar ends. Componants are all alloy: cranks,wheels, bars, pedals, etc. The bars were wrapped with silver duct tape. Had a plastic box on the rack. Schwinn decal is still visible on the tube,Le Tour is peeling Thanks!

Dude, the day I lose my Le Tour is the day you roll me up and bury me under a rock. I won't notice because I'll be rocking back and forth and coughing on my own spittle -- and mine has plastic fenders! Imagine ... German silver fenders ... feck. That sucks.

Ron Paul raises more than $3.5 million in one day

I'm sorry ... every time I see his name I think of RuPaul and how I would vote for RuPaul because he could be both President and (a fabulous) First Lady.

By the way, who's going to buy me this for Christmas?



It's from Starrbooty

The Coward's Way Out

I once asked my brother what the purpose of "Pass/No Pass" was in a university class. I was raised on red meat and potatoes, belief in Superman, and that education was measured in grades only. He said that you could use Pass/No Pass if you were taking one of those mandatory classes that you wouldn't take unless you had to and you knew that the grade you were going to get was going to f**k up your GPA.

We had our second midterm in Astronomy -- the "easy" science -- and I thought I did pretty well, with only a couple of questions (that involved math) that really threw me. But then I brought it home and showed it to the cousin ... okay, yeah, that one's wrong too ... and that one ... feck! and that one. Why can't I get my head around Newton's laws and Keppler and how tectonic theory fits in with the creation of the Earth's atmosphere? Why? Why? Why?

Yesterday I changed my status to Pass/No Pass in Astronomy. I felt like a big chicken, but the brother's right. I was on the fast track to losing my GPA and it's cumulative so once it drops it's impossible to bring it back up again.

This doesn't mean that I'll stop going to class or doing the homework or studying ... although I can see how that would be appealing, especially since half the class does it now and they seem pleasantly stoned and disinterested.

Maybe ignorance really is bliss.

Hallonelyween

We had 3 trick-or-treaters. 4 if you count the Track Town Pizza guy -- I tipped him in KitKats and Skittles. I thought it was our house-reputation (high turnover of drug addicts and college guys), but there's nary a child on the street for any of the houses. Feckin' ... we used to run out of candy when we were on Jackson.

This 'hood blows.

ween

I'm channeling this message through my Earth contact, l'il hateful.

My name is Varuka Beauvoir-Töricht, late wife of Philip Töricht and heiress to the riches of Madame Beauvoir. Last Saturday I was compelled to attend a dinner party with a group of people I would never been seen with socially ... with the exception perhaps of my husband (poor inept Lippie) and my playboy cousin, Winthrop (the ladies call him Teddy).


It was bad enough sitting at the table with an accountant, the gardener and my late mother's boyfriend, but then to discover that everyone had a secret past! The night just spiraled down like a nightmare.

To think! The cordial Henry Griffin who wooed my dear, elderly mother was an escapee from Alcatraz with a shark tooth tattoo advertising his past!


And Frannie O'Dowdy, mother's trusted housekeeper


was a Las Vegas harlot named Nina!

And that personal assistant, stealing from mother with the help of Mr. Cohen, a communist who pretended to be Jewish, but was really an insane evangelical preacher!

Poor Lippie standing there and not even paying attention, but it didn't matter to him, because poor, inept, hopeless Lippie was the murderer! This is what happens when you don't see your husband for 2 years (and the whole time he's really married to the personal assistant ...).

Darlings, they were all guilty...

Bitter. Isn't. Pretty.

The Best of Eugene edition of the Weekly hit the streets on Thursday, and I got around to reading it today (after drinking, working, pounding out that stupit paper for the 5th time) and they had a Best Blogs section. Who knew?

The winners? Oh yeah --- NOT ME. And that's all you need to know .... but I'll list them anyway:
Mr. Random's Blog of Randomness -- I like his radio show, so ... okay ... maybe he can be thrown a bone n' stuff.
Jeffrey Morgenthaler
The Crema

Here's the Weekly's justification for shutting out l'il hateful, Archival Clothing and other, better, cooler, supremer, super bestest blogs:
Blogs are cool, no matter what you haters say. In Eugene, these blogs are coolest: Mr. Random retains the top spot with his Blog of Randomness, which mostly relates to music one way or the other but also talks about things like Random's vacation from MySpace and his appreciation of LOLcats (oh, we approve!); Jeffrey Morgenthaler comes in second with his fantastic guide to all things bar- and drink-related, which offers recipes for food and cocktails, recommended reading and some lovely photography; and the Wandering Goat staff's The Crema picks up third with their group blog, low on text but full of funky pictures and links.

Yeah, "full of funky pictures" of goats and some junk about how someone stole their sign. pffft ... whatever dude.

Customer comment of the day:

I brought a 25 pk of Maxell CD-RWs today, and can't open the container. Any suggestions?

Yeah, people get on the internet to ask me these things. You'd think they needed a crash helmet just to get through everyday life, but somehow they still manage to use a computer.

in my email this morning

[l'il hateful], Pala is thankful to be open for business.

We would like to take this opportunity to thank the firefighters and their support personnel for all their hard work in keeping Pala guests and Team Members safe.


Who says God doesn't look out for the gambler?

Better throw them in the wat-tah

A co-worker asked me with concern if my family was in one of the fire areas of Southern California. pfft, there's no nature in Huntington Beach -- except for the beach, of course, and you can't burn sand. If there was a tract house fire they'd be in trouble, but there's hardly enough brush at the junior high school across the street to raise any concern.

Although mom is sneezing a lot.

But it made me think of that nutty idea that people have of Southern California being all Los Angeles. Even San Diego! "How close is that to Malibu?" And it's not as though they're idiots or don't know geography; there's just this outsider view of Southern California that puts everything in the same general location. I'm kind of guilty of it too, sure. When people ask where I'm from I say Los Angeles, but it's usually because it's easier than saying Huntington Beach -- and I did live in Los Angeles for a long time, so it counts in a way. If I say Huntington Beach I always have to answer the second question "How close is that to Los Angeles?" People don't say "Oh, you live in Eugene. How close is that to Portland?" Although my brother asked me that once, but it involved directions and a rental car.

Speaking of, I guess the brother wasn't kidding. He really did close down the blog. Why why why?

And speaking of speaking of: Mr. Bascomb, tell me your house isn't on fire. You're in nice, safe tract housing, right? Tell me you're not living in the Qualcomm Stadium ... although if they let you have nachos for dinner, I guess it can't be too bad.

KIMI'S KING OF THE WORLD

http://uk.eurosport.yahoo.com/071022/2/vv2r.html

Did I mention that I have a piece of his fire suit ...

Yeahbut and Costello

Today I was late to work. It's my own fault. I was goofin' on the moxibustion and lost track of time and then there was some crazy accident that busted a power pole and kept me from stopping at Dutch Brothers on the way, so I had to stop at the Shell Station (which worked out because I had a hankerin' for Pringles after watching them get made on "How It's Made" last night) and while I was spilling their non-dairy creamer I overheard this conversation:

"... and I told him that I was trying to go to classes, but I also had to work, and then I've been sick and I made an appointment to go to the doctor, but I had these things and I don't know what they are, but I couldn't focus on classes and I didn't get to work and now he says he's going to fire me!"

Response:
"You don't just disappear for 3 days without telling anyone. You could find a phone."

Right back:
"But I won't have my cell back until next week and I knew I was in trouble already, so I didn't call."

When I was a kid, every time we started up on this kind of story, my pop would chop it at word #2. "I want to hear reasons, not excuses!" He used to mock it when we would start it with "Yeah, but--" "Yeahbut and Costello. Yeahbut and Costello. I don't want to hear any Yeahbutt and Costello."

I walked into work late, punched in late, stayed late to make up for it, and went on with my life.

Thank you, dad.

Я огорченн, Польша

It wasn't the material that tore up poor Bob Kubica. It was a fecking pokey thing in our fecking dryer in this fecking house that is now fecking leaking from the fecking rain.

On a lighter note: cousin/roommate fixed the heater vent to the upstairs YAYYYYYYY!

Still ... how bitter am I? Poor Bob ...

хорошее везение, sucker

My friends recently went over to the former Iron Curtain (and that Germany place for some schnitzengruben) and all they brought me was this REALLY GREAT Robert Kubica shirt.

I loves the Kubica and his battling caterpillar eyebrows. So I put the shirt on and then took it off, because I wanted to save it for the Brazil race, but then I put it on again because my day had been so shitty ... but then I took it off again because it was made from this nutty European polyester which tends to suck in every (I'm sorry to have to tell you all this) weird daily odor from your body and make you smell like someone on the Metro on a hot Thursday afternoon in August.

So I washed it.

Did I know that a triangle with an X through it meant no machine washing? Maybe not ... but the square with the circle in it and the X through that ... okay, yeah, maybe that should have been a clue. I had every intention to photo the shirt for the blog, but then I didn't because it's not really soooooooooooo bad except for the parts where the material frayed on the ... well, most of the areas of the shirt, really, so then I thought pictures tell a story better than I can, but then the camera wasn't charged, but then I have a camera phone ...

But then again, I have no idea how to use it.

lust, caution

Today's Daily Emerald Headline:

News: Giving from the heart

A $74.5 million gift from philanthropist Lorry Lokey, the largest donation to academics in the University's history, was announced Tuesday by President Frohnmayer

Things I would do if I had $74.5 million laying around:
- eat asparagus for dinner every night
- go to every Formula 1 race and gamble in Monaco
- go to the good movie theaters instead of the sticky-foot
- maybe finish school ... ... maybe
- buy fresh fish
- fly my lear jet up to Nova Scotia to see the total eclipse of the Sun

I'm just not sure that I'd give it to the University. Maybe that makes me a selfish jerk, I don't know. But I think I'd rather blow it on slot machines with mom than throw it at what's supposed to be a state-funded school. Unless it means that they finally fix the tampon machines in the student union and the Journalism building. I'd donate enough for that. Every single one of them is broken. You want to know how I know? You don't want to know how I know, but know that I know. They appear to work in the library, but since that's owned by Nike it's the least they can do -- since the books are all pre-1960. Today I was passing the shelves and found a copy of West Point Guidelines from 1911. Thank God that's available somewhere.

howdy pardners!

So, yeah, working at this school shite is stressful. A girl needs to take breaks. As part of the break plan, the cousin/roommate and I have been using Netflix to its fullest potential. This weekend we watched "Westworld", and select - choice - episodes of "Starsky & Hutch" and "Miami Vice".

And since I'm feeling analytical and investigative, I started to notice patterns ... sure, the robots were only in "Westworld" ... but they all have these partner things going on, particularly the TV shows.

http://www.ccwriter.org www.allposters.com

Good looking WASP-ish cop gets the girls and the dramatic stories (Hutch is turned into a junky, the woman he loves is a prostitute who gets killed after hitting Sylvia Sydney; Crockett's cover is blown by Frank Zappa, the woman he sleeps with is an Interpol mole), while the darker guys get the goofy supporting crap to do. Starsky has girls, sure, and so does Rico ... I think ... maybe in a couple of episodes anyway, but they're not the glamorous ones with the iffy past or the ones that turn the plot. Of course Starsky and Rico get to discover the real story on the girls because they've got to protect their partner. Fahhhhh Hutch couldn't even cover Starsky in that street fight and Crockett ... well, he did climb up that bridge and save the day, but the cost ... ohhhhhhh the emotional cost.

But this is what made "Westworld" so truly wonderful -- good looking partner doesn't save the day. The hero is dark, nebbish Richard Benjamin, the guy that wants a vodka martini at the cowboy bar. That reminds me, I need to put "Love at First Bite" on the Netflix queue.

www.movieactors.com

I whinge therefore I am

So, yeah, yesterday sucked. I've been working up the nerve to call people to interview for my stupit paper in stupit Journalism and I finally get hold of the guy that's central to my story and he tells me he doesn't have time to talk to me ("are you a student?") and that I need to read everything he has to say in another newspaper.

Then I get to class and my profile topic is shot-down.

I nearly cried in front of the GTF. That's bad.

I was seriously considering dropping the Journalism class because I just don't have the time to do all the stuff that needs to be done. I'm really, really behind and it's making me super manic. I was able to save the profile today, but I'm still kicking up dust on the issue article because no one will friggin' talk to me. But, while yesterday I was feeling bad and low low low, today I'm thinking that I'm going to just have to push the limits, starting with the guy that turned down my interview. I've decided to hound him until he answers at least 2 really big questions, and then I'll lay off ... a little. Just 2 questions, and maybe some follow-up, but Monday and Tuesday I'm going to beat walk door-to-door downtown and find someone, anyone, that will talk to me about this issue. Dammit, man, I hate cold-calling, but I really can't stand failure.

And it helped to have a martini last night at The Moxie. I'm going back there Monday night to get them to chat me up for the article ... and maybe have another martini.

Definitely have another martini

It's been a really bad day

"Freedom, Sancho, is one of the most precious gifts
that heaven has bestowed upon men;
no treasures that the earth holds buried or the sea
conceals can compare with it;
for freedom, as for honour, life may and should be ventured;
and on the other hand, captivity is the greatest evil
that can fall to the lot of man."
- Miguel de Cervantes
Don Quixote, Part II, Chapter LVIII

My Name is Nobody

The cousin/roommate has been transferring my grandfather's biography tapes to CD over the past few weeks, so every now and then when I pass by his room I hear things like "And so I told that fella ... that he could take his job ... and shove it up his ass."

Grandpa was a sailor.

So, last night, while driving out to Costco we were playing one in the car, and he's talking about his days in the Brooklyn Naval Yard before he sailed on the Indianapolis (side note: yesterday afternoon we heard all about how he saw FDR get a bath - ! - grandpa spied him through a neighboring porthole while FDR was on board ship), and he's going on about painting with enamel and some long story about not obeying orders but how it didn't mean anything but that he knew this guy Randall was out to get him but he would never disobey orders again except for that time he didn't ask for permission to leave the ship when he was walking his family down after a visit and he had to come back and the officer of the deck, who didn't want to dress him down in front of his parents, told him to ask for permission to come and go because that's the way they do it in the Navy and he saluted the officer and saluted the flag and then went back down to his parents to tell him how he had gotten in trouble, thereby dressing himself down in front of his parents...

You get it. They're old man stories ("So I tied an onion on my belt, because it was the style at the time"), but with some gems.

One of those gems is the story of Phyllis Petrucelli. Her father didn't like that Luigi, that sailor, so they had to meet on the sly in Jersey and because they walked in the shadows a rumor started that she was pregnant. Now ... Grandpa wasn't a simple man. He was a naive man, in a simple way, and he doesn't quite explain the connection between walking in the shadows and splitting up when they came to the neighborhood (so no one would know they were together) with her being pregnant. And it doesn't seem to be connected with being in the shadows as much as when they separated at the neighborhood -- he knew that hiding their relationship would get them into this kind of trouble ... ? So everyone said they had to get married -- even though she wasn't pregnant -- but just before he shipped out he got drunk at a party and told a friend that he couldn't get married before he shipped out because he was "just too drunk."

So if he hadn't gotten drunk and had married Phyllis in Jersey City (or if an ulcer hadn't kept him out of the war and off of the Indianapolis when it went down), there's a really good chance that I wouldn't be here.

Fascinating.

Student (cell phone) Comment of the Day

"That's cool n' stuff. You can be all about me or whatever."

posting to please my friend Jeff

Up late doing what? Doing what? Picking a flipping ring tone for my phone, that's what.

I wanted it to be something that I liked, but could stand to listen to every time it rang. Aerosmith's Sweet Emotion would fill category A, but I know by call #4 I'd be kicking myself for loading it at $2.50 a pop -- man! that's how they stick it to you. That and the games. Why why why? Sony only charges $.99 and you get the whole song! Virgin is most unfair. And they don't have "Love is Like Oxygen" by Sweet, so what's the point?

Anyway, now that I have a phone I can set up interviews with the mayor of Eugene or one of the dozens of oddly scented folk who people our downtown plaza. Do I care about the outcome of Ballot Measure 20-134? Only in so far as it will rate me a decent grade in J203. Does that make me a bad citizen? Probably. I was actually verbally kicked at last night during the town hall meeting when I dared to raise my hand as "undecided" during the straw poll. Feck me! I'm a journalist, man! I don't take sides. But that's not the Eugene way. Four of us were undecided and I think the 3 others were legitimate members of the press. We're objective, right? No bias, blah blah blah ....

Or I just don't care, which is kind of the same thing.

student comment of the day

"I did really good on my paper."

I suspect not.

once was lost, but now I'm Found

This was the Found.com item of the day and it pleased me:


I feel the same way. I was sooooooo different as a freshman.

To the brother -- you know, you don't have to write every day, and who gives a flip what you say in your blog ... apart from those people who, you know, take you to court n' stuff, but even then, come onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.

Never give up.
Never surrender!

I just bought a cell phone and I thought it was appropriate to warn you all that this is one of the signs of the Apocalypse.

... the shame ...

"No one will really be free until nerd persecution ends."

One week down of year 3 ... I think I have this college thing down, but I have a feeling just when I start to really enjoy it, I'll be graduating.

Writing for the Media:
It started with Morris Day and the Time singing "Jungle Love" as we filed into class. Good? Bad? I think good, but I have a natural fear of optimism, so I'll think good and say bad. It may work out okay, but I can't shake the fear that I'm going to screw it up somehow. My controversial paper is pretty weak, but it sounds like everyone else is having the same problem, so maybe it'll work out. My biggest fear for this class: I think I'm going to have to get a cell phone so I can set up interviews during school break hours. Why why why ...

Sociology:
Professor looks like the Amish grandfather in "Witness" but is a delightful little powder keg of liberal bias. Once we started in on the lectures it got really interesting and will most likely continue to be so. Bad: I was knocked down in the section for admitting that the last movie I saw was Harry Potter ("Oh, you're one of those people" -- whatever that means). The students who had seen "Transformers" didn't get that reaction. But I did get props for having a red star on my carrier bag (thanks DWS).

Astronomy:
I don't know ... I get the analemma thing, but it kind of irritated me that when I asked what happened between the "gas cloud" and "stars emerged" I was put off with "That will be addressed in Astronomy 123." What th... I want to know now. Just because it won't be on the test doesn't mean it's unnecessary knowledge ... unless it's complicated. Then it's probably for the best that I don't know.

And if it involves math ... forget it.

Day 2 -- must have been the full moon

I could tolerate my fellow students a little more today, although I don't like having to stare at their "Greek Week" shirts all day long. What if I rushed a sorority ... hmm ... Still, I didn't hate anyone ... actively.

Moment of the day: in Sociology the professor's lecture was interrupted by a blonde girl two seats down who leaned over to ask me a question. I leaned in closer to hear her and then looked at her.

It was 12 o'clock in the afternoon and she had more Botox and make up than Joan Rivers. Not only that, but she had -- and I'm not making this up -- fake eyelashes. She was no more than 19 or 20, but she looked like a (I hate to say this) 40 year-old drag queen.

All I could think of was:
She's dead. Wrapped in plastic.

Hate is not a prison

First class, 9:00 am, student #1: "Do you have a spare pen I can borrow?" It's the first class on the first day and he's already lost his pen. And I don't know why he borrowed it because he didn't write anything down.

Mein Gott, and the inanity that I hear every day on every cell phone on every patch of space around campus ... I think I heard the word "like" about 423 times, but I think there were some that I missed when I was trying to drown it out with the pink pod. "Like, I'm sure, she, like, totally bought it at, like, Target." <--- actual quote, by the way. It's like, being, like, back in, like, the 7th grade. Other top moments: "One of my first assignments is to ask my students to write a short essay describing their high school classes." fah what? WE'RE NOT ALL KIDS!!!!! "Like, this is, like my notebook from last year. These doodles are from that English class, remember? That's where I drew your face. Yeah, like, we learned so much in that class, huh." Not only that, but I've nearly been hit 4 times while riding my bike. Twice from a-holes turning right and not looking, 1 who ran a stop sign, and 1 who stopped at the stop sign and then decided to go as I was crossing the intersection -- she was looking right at me and maybe trying to figure out if she could get out there ahead, but not sure, but thinking I'd stop because she's a car and could do more damage, regardless of the fact that she had a stop sign and I didn't. Three were on cell phones. All were under the age of 30.

I don't want to be a cranky old woman. I don't. I want to be a normal old woman, but I find that concepts of normality are apparently exclusive and specialized, and every second of every day I'm reminded that I don't fit into this society.

Cah, it really is like being in 7th grade again!

Here's today's customer question of the day:

Me: Great! We appreciate the opportunity to assist you! How can I help you today?
Visitor: I need to know if I can clean my hard wood floors??
Me: I'm sorry, I wouldn't have that information. We're an office supply company
Visitor: how about the inter of my 1957 ford???

I love working Sundays ....

Human Tetris 3

This is possibly the best show on television.

Things to do before school starts

- buy a new pen
- sleep
- watch another episode of On Demand "Fantasy Island" (done)
- buy another red sweater (done)
- sleep
- make some brownies
- finish reading one of the three books I just started - or leave them all half-finished through the term like always.
- sleep
- eat breakfast
- finally put the new checkbook register in my wallet so I can stop trying to balance my account on sticky notes and tissue paper

Adventure Friday:
Some mutt chased Cat chased up a tree today. That's instinct. You can't teach that. She came down again before cousin/roommate returned with the ladder. But no cat of mine is going to be a chicken. I'm going to teach her how to stand up for herself and fight back and ... and ... nah. I guess the tree thing is cool. Very little street cred, but it works.

oh. my. god.

click here

That is HORRIFYING. Oh Oscar ........

(the commentary is hilarious, but, yes, I agree with wuh, it is a pretty raunchy website, so viewer beware)

WHAT?!?

LOS ANGELES, Calif. (September 20, 2007) " Oscar De La Hoya is fighting mad over some questionable photos of the boxer that have surfaced online.

The photos, which depict the boxer in a full-body fishnet suit and black high heels in some suggestive poses, were posted by the photo agency X17 Online on Wednesday.

And now the website is down
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

How did I miss out on this? Oscar, why hast thou forsaken me?

cah, I'm always the last to know.

What are the cosmic moral implications of training your cat to behave like a dog? She comes when she's called, she greets me at the door, she does tricks, but she still pees in a box and sleeps all day, so I don't see it as really changing Nature ... just sort of changing it. Have I earned a place in Heaven or Hell?

Last interview at work today -- interviewing people can be a weird gig. I'm asking the hard questions (why are you leaving your present job? Do you mind working all day without a break?) and doing all the background explanation about what we do and what the position entails, but I feel like I should be giving them more. "Look, this job will steal your soul. Are you prepared for that?" But I don't want to be like my old boss Bob and ask things like "Are you a Capitalist?" and crap of that nature. The best information he got from a candidate was "Do you know who her favorite author is?" (me: "No, Bob, we only talked about the job") "Dickennnnsssssson...?" (me: "Is that Dickens or Dickenson?" He didn't know, but told me to hire her based on that and the fact that her father had worked for Boeing.)

Fah ... this is the last one for this job, and it's someone with my name, so if she's hired we'll have to screen the phone calls with "Do you want Karen H or Caryn S?" but maybe I'll just give it to her straight: People yell at you, are intensely unreasonable and will treat you like a stupid robot who lives in Pakistan. Do you think you'll be okay with that for X salary? Honest, we have a coffee maker, Vanity Fair Magazine in the roomy restroom and you get Christmas Day off. What do you say?

Then, at the end of it, I'm comin' home to "Evil Eye" (and some Star Trek thing....).

I'm a believer AMEN

I fought against this whole Netflix thing. It just smacks of lazy, and I like going into the video store and spending an hour wandering around not remembering what I came in there for because there are 14 other movies distracting me. But, whatever, all our friends are doing it and we want to be like the cool people, so we signed up.

I looked for "Odd Man Out" -- saved, not in -- "Drunken Angel" -- saved, not in -- and why does it tease you with a picture of the cover and then say that "saved" means it doesn't exist yet when I fecking KNOW that "Odd Man Out" is on a g-damned Criterion disc! "Wuthering Heights" -- save -- screw it, we can at least pick off some Star Trek ... which leads to a fight over what he have and what we don't have. Cah! Do they even have any decent Richard Widmark??

So I add Star Trek ... and then "Rollercoaster" and "Murder on the Orient Express" ... and then, hey, what's this? They have the 6th season of Men Behaving Badly, which has the one where Gary and Deborah get married, which is hilarious, and the episode about Gary's couch ... and they have those I Love Lucy episodes where she's in Hollywood and "Random Harvest" and "Capricorn One" and "Westworld" and "Slaughterhouse Five" and --

HOLY SWEET JESUS IN THE MANGER!

Neflix has episodes of Taggart!

No WAY! Flicks n' Pics didn't even have Taggart! No one carries these discs.

So now I have 75 dvd's in the queue. And I know they treat you nice, like a new boyfriend, for the first couple of months, and then the honeymoon ends, and you start to not get the stuff in the queue like you used to, because they don't want you to take too much advantage of their goodness, so I moved the Taggart's up to the top so we can get those first.

I love Netflix.

once more onto the bus, dear friends, once more

Summer's ending. I can tell because the air is dryer and school kids are already hauling their crap back into town.

We have traffic. That only happens when the kids come back to town.

And I've already printed out my syllabus for Writing for the Media -- it's 44 pages.

44

I pictured this class being the fun Journalism class, the one where you actually get to pop out a bit of writing and sell the story with that Lois Lane kind of gusto. Based on the syllabus, it's like Info Hell without the annotating. Which, I guess, is okay. The worst part of Info Hell was the annotating and the easiest was writing the paper, so ... eh.

My books for this term total $250.00.
used.

blows, dude.

It's all starting over again in less than 2 weeks. No more time off ... no more laying on the couch and watching "Fantasy Island" through On Demand ... fehhh school.

Patriot Day

This just posted on the work chat line:
My company annually purchases your Monthly reminders and I would like to qualify why you do not show Patriot Day on today September 11th? the back page says (deleted manufacturer's name -- not my company, by the way) Printed in the USA

Possible responses:
- Because it's not a fecking holiday
- Because it conflicted with Oreo Cookie Day
- Because we're communist bastards. Problem with that?

Other events of the week: bad cold (can I have a week where stuff doesn't fall apart demmit?), hot in library (melted my Vicks Vapo-Rub), and ... erm ... oh yeah! WENT TO IKEA!

That's the bestest place in the world.

Oh, so I drank one
It became four
And when I fell on the floor
I drank more

It was Paganini

I'm going to miss that Pavarotti fella. I still listen to him in "Tosca" (bad story/great songs) all the time (but not on the pod because ... I guess there's no reason why not. Time to put "e lucevan le stelle" on the Sony).

Cah ... first Beverly Sills and now Luciano. It's a bad year for opera.

L'ora è fuggita, e muoio disperato