Watch how quickly I can pedal backwards

Okay, so the first day of Spring Term wasn't that bad, all considered. The workload is going to suck, but I actually like the majority of the professors, even the J school ones. The Ethics class ... that's going to take some getting used to. "What's the difference between Ethics and Morals?" hahahaha right out of Election. I wanted to raise my hand and give the Tracy Flick response, but was afraid my face would freeze like Reese Witherspoon's. I'm dying to pipe up one day with "I'm not talking about ethics! I'm talking about morals!"

But Law and Reporting are fun so far, although both seem to promise a kind of Info Hell-style project that's worth some huge percent of the grade. It's a group project in Law and I know -- I KNOW -- I'm going to end up with the two girls behind me who began class with this scintillating conversation: "Um, like, is this Law or Econ?" "Oh, yeah, like, I don't know." "Does anyone know?" "I guess we'll just wait and see." "I hear this class is hard."

Which class? Law? Or Econ?

Maybe they're right to call us all collective morons. I swear these kids are stoned. If not, they should be. They need some excuse.

my major malfunction

Got up early to read my 4 newspapers available online (have to pick up the paper copy of the fifth one at school since it's not updated online until noon) and I feel prepared for another term of school.

It's going to suck. You know, last term was bad bad, no doubt about it, but the instructors weren't a-holes. They didn't talk to you like you were an a-hole. Or maybe they did and I didn't notice, but if they did it wasn't that "I know going in that you, student, are a woodentop, so just sit back and try to see if you can follow along" kind of a-hole talk. J classes are different. We're already getting emails telling us about how we'll be molded into moral agents and how our excuses won't be tolerated. We haven't even had a class yet.

If you ladies leave my classroom, if you survive recruit training, you will be a weapon. You will be a minister of death praying for war. But until that day you are pukes. You are the lowest form of life on Earth. You are not even human, fucking beings. You are nothing but unorganized grabastic pieces of amphibian shit. Because I am hard you will not like me. But the more you hate me the more you will learn. I am hard but I am fair. There is no racial bigotry here. I do not look down on niggers, kikes, wops or greasers; freshmen, sophomores, juniors, or seniors. Here you are all equally worthless. And my orders are to weed out all non-hackers who do not pack the gear to serve in my beloved News Corps. Do you maggots understand that?

Culture Spot

Bryn Terfel - Tosca - Va, Tosca (Te Deum). Tosca makes him dimenticare his Deo.

It must have been that goofy laugh from Kiss of Death, or his lovely teeth, and the way he kept reaching for the translator earphones between speeches in Judgement at Nuremburg, or how he kept apologizing to Sidney Poitier between takes on No Way Out because his character shouted racial slurs, or how you can watch him lipread the other actors in Rollercoaster so he'd know when to speak his lines without screwing up, or seeing him in all those westerns even though he hated guns, and how last Christmas we watched Death of a Gunfighter because he was in it even though it was a bad, bad, bad, bad movie, or watching him chase Palance down in Panic in the Streets shouting "YOU HAVE THE PLAGUE!", but mostly I think it's in the way he played Harry Fabian in Night and the City so that it wrenches your heart to see him lose that innocence, because he really thought he knew what he was doing.

But Pickup on South Street ... that's the one I can watch over and over and over and over and over, because he was the best.

Thank you, Mr. Widmark.

Lost Weekend

Not that I watched "Lost" or caught up on the new season or anything of importance. I'm just sayin'.

Took some books back to the Duck Store to get my (fair share of abuse) usual $10 for each $130 that I spend there, and walked away about 20 lbs lighter with $84 in my pocket. But I kept the Astronomy book back. She was only giving me $30 for it! No deal. I'd rather be a nerd and keep it for reference then lower its value that way. I wasn't as attached to the book on television -- kind of dry for such a magnificent art form.

Spent the dough at Value Village and somewhere else ... I can't remember. But I got 4 nice sweaters and I think some food for the week. Oh and some booze for a party Saturday where I behaved like a freshman and slugged a few too many, but I stuck with Vodka and that made all the difference. I was still a little puny yesterday, but managed some laundry and some proper Easter God-film watching. Jeffrey Hunter a Jesus in "King of Kings" ... dude ... Christopher Pike died for us all, friends, and Rip Torn led him there. Good ol' Rip. Two minutes of him as Judas and we were compelled to put in "Men in Black".

Work all week and then school next week. I'm too old for this. 4 more months until July. No. Sleep. Til Vegas!

I shall list each excuse clearly and succinctly

So I hopped right on www.barackobama.com as soon as the visit to Eugene was announced. I was there RIGHT THERE and I put in the RSVP and then saw ... "this does not guarantee entrance" and the balloon up and deflated. No tickets. It's first come, first seated.

Friends, I'm all for Barack. I'm waiting only for the coffee mugs to be added to the the Bobama store before I place my order, because I want everything at once, and the water bottle isn't going to cut it. I want real stoneware before I start harassing others to vote like me. VOTE LIKE ME. I've got a brand new bumper on Rudy just waiting for the sticker (did I get rear-ended because of Kerry? .... .... this is going to take some investigation).

But, you know, if Econ has taught me nothing else, it's taught me how to do a cost-benefit analysis.

Cost:

• riding to school in the cold (it's 42 now) and coming back at midnight (when it's supposed to drop to 31 degrees)
• jockeying for position among Eugene's finest, most of whom don't cotton to washin'
• and ending up thrust into the EMU with the overflow anyway because I didn't get off work until 5:00 and people were lining up at Mac Court as early as 2:00
  
• leaving the cousin/roommate home with a bad case of trotskys (I told him we shouldn't have eaten at that Taco Bell)

Benefit:

• yeah, okay, sure, it would be great to say "I saw the President when..."

The cost -- including opportunity cost -- is just too high. Students were already crowding the doors before I'd even had a lunch break at work. So I picked up some pretzels and Squirt for the cousin/roommate and we watched a pretty weak episode of Taggart (I know, weird, but they can't all be great), and now I'm going to bed to sleep the sleep of the wimpy. I had a chance to see the President when ... and I didn't go.

This is my story. This is my song.

The End is Nigh

Friends, I know I may say this every time, but this time I really mean it. This was the hardest term of my entire college career so far -- although, honestly, what could beat it? The cat died, there was the run-in with the hobo, there was Economics, and today I had to come up with the names of 2 Bollywood directors and their films, and I couldn't do it. But it's over and done and the first grade came in and it's a P for Pass in Econ so I'm DONE with that shite ... until the next Econ class, since Journalism majors have to take 8 credits ... Whatever n' junk. I'm done.

I'm going to miss astronomy though. That was fun stuff.

Release the hounds, it's time for some vodka.

Or sleep.

Basically, I was just gonna say...

That's how most of my fellow students begin each sentence. They usually end with "or whatever" like that will absolve them from any responsibility in the sentence. ("Basically, I was just gonna say that the Earth revolves around the Sun, or whatever.")

Yes, I should be studying. Yes, the Economics final was today -- had a freakout at the start (and it was on a cost table, the only thing in the class I can really do confidently and it still freaked me out), so I skipped to the next section, maintained, and was able to return and balance out. I think I'll pass with a D. If I have to take it (or something like it) again, at least now I'll know how to figure the elasticity.

Basically, I was just gonna say, I know I should be studying for the film and astronomy finals, but I want it on the record that the Ashera designer cats really freak me out. I know, they're old news, but it's the first time they were Yahoo news, so it's the first I've seen of them, or whatever.


Nice use of the frilly model in the background to give a light, feminine, somewhat Euro touch to the photo. "Ees theese your veeceeous jungle cat? Oooh la la, may I geev heem a petteeng?"

Finals Week.

That is all.

Densha Otoko (Train Man)

We watched this in film class today and I cried like a baby. Nerd love is sweet.

Yreka

While having my yogurt and coffee (Not-Quite-But-Almost South Beach Diet) lunch today I overheard a conversation that suddenly made everything clear.

Boy 1: So what are you going to do after graduation?
Boy 2: I don't know. My parents just keep saying "Get a degree. Get a degree." But I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it.
Boy 1: Yeah, most companies just want to see if you have one when they hire. They don't care what it's for.
Boy 2: That's what I figure. Maybe I'll get a teaching credential or something. I don't know. What are you going to do?
Boy 1: I'm going to go work for the [previously mentioned Christian] youth group.
Boy 2: Cool.

So, I guess I shouldn't be worried about having to compete with these kids for jobs. Most of them are just filling time to get the degree paper, so competition should be minimal. Not that I'm counting on that, I'm just sayin' ... the less fish to fight and all ... Maybe this will all work out okay.

And, not to jinx it, but, pssst, I get it. Economics. I think I'm beginning to get it. Monopolies ... that's where the money's at. You need to monopolize. I'm still working on the equation flash cards, since I need to get an A to pass ... or at least to keep my C (based on the curve) average. Black holes, neutron stars and supernovae -- why are those so much easier to understand than supply and demand? Go figure.

Pudon yer dancin' shoes, bisches!

I gotta say, I kinda missed seeing the fighting French couple in this week's Horrible People.

But it still made tea come out my nose.

Hey, nice Marmot
Dude, the rain gear from the cousin/roommate is the Christmas gift that keeps on giving. It was rainy and I had a vague meegraine, so I almost took the bus home from school today, but rode it and was rewarded with the smell of flowers blooming and wet pollen in the trees. The Marmot jacket and Hammer pants (can't touch this) ... how did I live without you for so long? PS: It's weird how I can be dressed like a clown (powder blue jacket, black Babu pants, turquoise shoes on a red bike) and still have cars not see me as they turn right ... fecking cosmic justice, man. I'll never get my karma back.

Some Weird Territory

Last night I had a dream where Cat was still alive, and it made me miss her all over again ... but Veda was sleeping next to me in bed, so when I woke up I felt guilty about still having affection for Cat.

In the same dream a massage therapist (it's a long story) was telling me that trans fats were good and it was a myth that they were the bad fat, because they transfer the nutrients to the places your body needs them most. The fat is just a catalyst. A helper-outer. A little sugar to make the medicine go down.

I know it's because I was eating those fecking Girl Scout cookies. Those little drug dealers were selling them on campus yesterday and I was only going to buy one box, but they were having trouble making change, so I bought two (I also felt bad because in greeting I said "You guys are so bad" and none of them got the joke ... hmpf ... not even the mom. We used to have a lot more laughs when I was a Girl Scout ...).

My Big Fat College Book Deal

So I've come up with my pitch ... or my title without the pitch:

Thank You For Spiking The Curve: Adventures of a 40 Year-Old Undergrad

I think of it as a how-to book, as in how not to blow your retirement on your kid's college education. Among the quotable gems (just from this week alone):

"I haven't cracked a book since I started school and I'm already a Sophmore." Followed by "I take all of my classes pass/no pass, but I haven't passed one yet except for the gym ones."

Related
"I just can't get up the enthusiasm to go into Pool class. It's too late in the day to interest me." (yeah, we have a class on shooting pool. We also have bowling, trampoline and fly fishing. His companion in this conversation is taking badminton next term.)

"That was my favorite film because it was the shortest. If the teacher"(sic)"had been there we'd have had a lecture, which would have sucked."

Plus other tidbits from faculty friends. Too bad it's all real or I'd probably have a publisher already. Maybe if I did it as a graphic memoir ... except I can't drawr drawrings.

Speaking of, and raking up, sent the cousin (sister of the cousin/roommate) the link to the New York Times article where Whiteaker is described as the ghetto. She had no idea, and now has suitable shame. She doesn't know "Peggy" personally, but is aware of the pit bulls she used to raise (apparently for "the Bloods").

Eugene, Eugene, it's a wonderful town. Fairmount is up and Whiteaker's down -- Eugene, EUGENE! It's a wonderful town!

You con man conning me with your con

This whole Margaret B. Jones/Margaret Seltzer situation is a crack up.

I don't know if it's the half-assed fact checking done by Riverside Books ('I've been talking to her on the phone and getting e-mails from her for three years and her story never has changed,' Ms. McGrath said."), or the way Whiteaker was described as the "ghetto" of Eugene in the NY Times Feb 28th article (sugar, if that's the ghetto, then where the ffff do I live?), or just the whole white girl/black story sold to gullible whitey and how that's both funny and sad.

This is the best comment so far, from Kevin Allman's really great blog series on the subject:
Were any actual black people involved in the publication of this book?

I highly recommend reading the rest of his commentary here.

So where's my book deal? Word.

Thank you THANK YOU Reverend Dick. I can't wait for episode 5

Is there a doctor in the house?

Since we've been here almost a year, we decided maybe it was time to Rug Doctor the living room. There were strange smells that would seep up every time it rained and colors in the carpet that could have been anything from bike grease to bongwater to God only knows -- seeing as how the previous tenants would often pee on the front lawn and didn't have regular trash pickup. Notwithstanding the fact that drug dealers and hillbillies still live across the street, we may actually stay here now.

The water that was sucked up was (according to cousin/roommate) purple in color and full of grit ... eeeuw ....

Before

After

After I calmed a bit and stopped yelling at Geico (who also tried to tell me bike law, refuting what I was reading off of the Oregon DOT website, that a bike in motion is a vehicle and being in a crosswalk doesn't automatically make you a pedestrian because ped means WALK), I went to school yesterday and was almost hit twice on the way home by people turning their cars into me.

Which brings home what really irritates me about this incident.

We'll side with Kevin first. So he's got this residual pain after the accident, and he goes to the emergency room because he's got no insurance for a standard doctor and when you don't have insurance you go to emergency (which I had to clarify for Geico: he went to an emergency room for treatment, but it was NOT an emergency), and they say well there's some swelling, blah blah blah, we can give you a prescription to something, blah blah blah, but how are you going to pay for this? And he's got no money (unless he sells the bike and the cellphone), so he pins it on my insurance, but to make it really worth going after, he's going to have to throw in the damage to the bike, and he'll have to increase that damage, because a ding in the rim is going to be too small for Geico to pursue.

Now, since I was in the car and he was the vulnerable vehicle, and regardless of how he was or wasn't riding, I ran into him (although, in a funny touch, the fire department report states "bike into car") and I've got to take care of these problems. Whereas if he really was considered a vehicle, it would be his fault for riding the wrong way.

So, what irritates me, is that when I ride legit with helmets and lights and all and sundry, and some car hits me, rather than sorting out damage and fault in a reasonable way like car drivers, this kind of mentality comes up -- "she's a bike. shit. she's going to take me to the cleaners over this" -- and that's why we have hit and run. And we have a lot of that in Eugene because we have a lot of bikes and a lot of guys like my pal Kevin who think that bike law is this free-for-all that allows them to behave however they want on the road and then they get compensation when stuff like this happens -- and he'll probably get it too. That's the cherry on top. Geico started in on me with the assumption that it was my fault -- probably because I didn't report it, probably because there was nothing to fecking report! -- and will look at the 2 ton car versus the 5 lb bike (and 200 lb man), and make me pay up money I don't have to a guy that doesn't deserve it. And, regardless of detail, I think that's probably an insurance industry standard (correct me if I'm wrong, Mr. Bascomb). You can call it a vehicle, but when something happens it's suddenly the drooping violet in need of protection against the evil smog monster.

You know, I should have blown off going to Econ and taken his bike right to Center for Appropriate Transport and watched them take out the ding for free. But I didn't. I told him to call me with the cost of repair and he didn't. Now I have to fight against the stuff I've been fighting for, because the details are against the stuff I'm for, and it's turning me into the ugly driver fighting the vulnerable righteous cyclist and it's just wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

I leave you with a paragraph from my paper on vehicular homicide (my horn - tooted), incorporating the words of the great John Forester:

Considering their bicycle as a vehicle inspires confidence in the cyclist. John Forester states that “The vehicular-style cyclist not only acts outwardly like a driver, he knows inwardly that he is one. Instead of feeling like a trespasser on roads owned by cars he feels like just another driver with a slightly different vehicle … other drivers treat him largely as one of them” [18]. Among the top fear cyclists have of riding is the interaction they’ll have with motor vehicles and the implications of an accident. If a cyclist is confident that he has as much right to the road as a motor vehicle driver, this fear soon dissipates, and, with proper education about the rules of the road, in all but subtle differences in speed, a confident bicycle driver is equal to an automobile driver on the highway.

It's hard to have that confidence when regardless of the law you're still looked on by drivers as vulnerable and out for a lawsuit. Thanks, Kevin.

the cousin was right

So homeless guy has decided to contact my insurance company and make a claim for his bicycle and a "trip to the emergency room."

He says that his leg took the "full brunt of the impact" (lie) and that when he fell over (lie) he landed on his bicycle (lie on top of lie) and wrenched his back (lie lie lie). He also says that a witness saw the whole thing (BIG LIE).

In the 20 minutes while we were talking that witness must have been invisible because I didn't see him or hear him. Maybe he was a ghost like in Topper, out to right a wrong and get his wings. But, gee, it's weird that the Fire Department and Police didn't hear about hobo's injuries or damage. The insurance company can't understand why a report wasn't filed.

So this guy's out to bilk me out of my vast millions and more than anything else it really, really disturbs me that people are as bad as we think they are. That honesty is a dead practice. That help isn't good enough, because someone can squeeze you for more. That he thinks because I have a car and a job that I'm in this comfort zone to cart his load of manure that is his life on the street.

I told Geico that if he was asking for a new bike I wanted his old one. I think that's fair.

Goin' Bollywood

Don't know much about Bollywood, but I know what I like. Took me forever to figure out where I'd heard this before ... It's from "The Inside Man" -- Chaiyya Chaiyya (Dil Se) (dude, not to ruin it, but they die at the end of Dil Se ... are all Bollywood pictures like that?)

Goin' Hollywood

Found this description of the Silent Theater on Fairfax listed on a CitySearch site.

Rumors of blood on the lobby carpet and ghosts in the projection room have titillated Angelenos for years. Silent-film fans John and Dorothy Hampton opened this movie house with Cecile B. DeMille's "The King of Kings" in 1941 just as Nora Desmond's close-up was fading to black. But it was the headline-grabbing murder of their slick-talking protege, Laurence Austin, by a hired gun who sprayed the theater with gunfire in 1997, that cemented the house's place in Hollywood lore.

"sprayed the theater with gunfire" ... it all took place in the lobby with one or two shots in the theater-proper. I don't know about ghosts in the projection room ... that's possible.

Based on the blog, it looks like they're showing some super fantastic stuff.

Sometimes I miss LA.

Opportunity Knocks and Reality Bites

It was raining this morning and I was running late, so instead of riding my bike to work I drove, with the intention of driving home at 10 to pick up the bike and ride to school. When I left work, I was a little late, sure, and in a little bit of a hurry and when I got to the BIG INTERSECTION I only looked left to turn right. I didn't see any pedestrians crossing, so I just looked left, and then went to turn right. That's when this homeless guy named Kevin crunched into the front of my car.

Since I'm not an asshole, I pulled over and we examined his leg (dime sized bruise that may or may not be from my car) and his bike (a fecking Schwinn Frontier All-Terrain) which had about an inch of ding in the back tire rim that was sticking on the back brake. So it's no big deal and he's fine, and he wants to settle it there, and I say "Settle what? It was your fault too, you know." That's when he called the cops (I said "Go ahead") who sent firemen who looked at him, looked at his bike, looked at the reflector that had popped out of the front bumper of my car, and spent more time trying to fix that than they did talking to Kevin. "If there's no personal injury and no property damage, I'm not sure what it is you expect us to do." "Well, she said it wasn't her fault." Dude. So then we had to wait for a cop.

Now, mind you, I never said I wasn't at fault. I should have been looking, but I was damned if I was going to let him yack at me about bike law and take NO responsibility. He was riding against traffic and then he tells me that it was okay to do so because he was on the sidewalk! Dude! But I'm patient, waiting for the cop to come and sort him out, and I'm just not going to push it, until he says "This doesn't mean much to you, but I've never been hit by a car before."

That's when I let him have it. Fucko, I have been hit by a car while obeying the traffic laws and people usually take off, that's why I stayed. And here's another thing, you're a fucking vehicle, which means you belong on the street riding with traffic. Even if you go against it, for whatever reason, there are bike lanes an BOTH SIDES OF THE STREET so you have no business being on a sidewalk where people walk. You don't see cars riding the wrong way on a sidewalk, do you? It's because of a-holes like you that we can't get any decent legislation passed in this town. So don't fucking preach law at me, meat, until you know what you're talking about!

and then I calmed down.

He maintained that he was right because the light was green. cahhhhhhhh why can't we make people take bike tests like driver's tests and make them carry a license? Yeah, and guess what, the cop showed up and told him he was a vehicle and the law was that he had to ride with traffic on the street, so he was wrong.

I said I'd help him get the rim fixed (being a Schwinn that should take 2 whacks with a ball peen hammer), because he had 3 teeth and lived at the mission. Cousin/roommate thinks this guy will try and take me to the cleaners because I agreed to do help out ("It admits fault!"), but since he hasn't called me I'm guessing that the work was free or maybe he's the hobo with the heart of gold and realizes that he had some fault just like the cop said.

But where's the compensation for my mental anguish? boooo hooo hooo. Got to class on time, but was crying in the rain all the way here -- by the way, have I mentioned that the rain pants are so choice.

the end

For Sale: 1 slightly used soul $40 obo

Yesterday I spent an hour answering questions about my personal life for the University of Michigan. I told them going in that it was going to be boring, but they thought I was being funny. For $40 I told them when I first had sex (I thought physics-math was hard, try going back in time that far) and the last time I had sex (so when Belgium beat Germany in the World Cup that was ... hmm ...) and whether or not I wanted children or thought I would have children at some point, and did I have any physical limitations that would keep from from having children.

It left me feeling a little guilty. I don't have any physical limitations ("How about [fill in health issue]?" no. "How about [fill in psychological issue]?" no) and yet I had to be honest and answer no and no to want and foresee children in the future. It's not that I'm career-oriented and junk, I just don't think it's a good idea for me to have a kid that I can't afford -- sure, I've got a full-time job (there were about 7 questions about that), but with a kid that gets impacted and there's no way it would work. Not only that, but I just don't have any patience for that kind of thing (a question they didn't ask). But there's this residual feeling of waste -- hundreds of women can't have children and you can, so why aren't you, you layabout!

So I went out and blew the $40 right away at St. Vincent de Paul and Goodwill. Got some nice binoculars to look at the M42 next time the night is clear WHOO HOO!

What fucker said that?

I'm really irritated with this whole school thing. You know, some classes are useful, but some I just have to be in because requirements tell me I have to be there, so the idealistic vision of actually learning new things in class is really a reality. All of the classes where I could learn stuff, I've already taken, and all that's left are the classes where I've got to fill time -- including the Journalism shite, which I've totally lost interest in. This is not training to be Lois Lane, it's training to be J.J. Hunsaker, and I guess I kind of knew that going in, having worked in Marketing before and knowing that it lies somewhere between whoring and being a lobbyist, but when condition you to accept that as positive business practice ... jaysis, it's no wonder Fox News is popular. Nothing will change as long as universities are churning out bright-eyed hookers who suck up to current media thinking that "turning it up a notch" is actually a good thing to do. That's how we get things like Temptation Island and The O'Reilly Factor.

So I thought I would be an English major instead and I'm seriously tempted to cross over to the rebellion against the evil empire, especially considering that I'm on the slow track to graduating late anyway, but my heart's just not in it anymore. What do I want to be when I grow up? Non lo so.

To tie into the Withnail & I quote above, I heard a kid talking LOUDLY on his cell phone about what he was learning in his Religion of Islam class. It was explained as : "So there's that Mohammed or whatever guy, and, like, basically it's like Muslim is the same as, like, Christianity. Dude, seriously. It's the same thing, just said by different guys." That Mohammed guy ... was he important and stuff? Whatever, yeah. I hope he can remember it for the final.

Is a degree really worth the paper it's printed on? I guess I'm not one to talk. Although I got a 66 on the second Economics midterm, so I'm actually improving in some small way. I heard others say proudly that they scored a 43 (Yeah! Dude!), 47 and 48. Hooray for the curve.

Find your neutral space.

I think I'll just open all my entries with a quote from "Withnail and I" because it's such a fine film with many fine lines ("If I dose you, you'll know you've been dosed.") and it's especially appropriate because I was thinking about Danny only yesterday as I left the Econ exam. I studied for that effer for 3 days, including an hour and a half leading directly up to it.

Still couldn't make it all work.

So I was freaky and hysterical, full of despair -- "Mein Gott, what do I have to do to understand this shite?!?" that kind of thing -- and then I stopped and found my neutral space, man, and decided to go into the art museum on campus and see the Buddhist art exhibit.

And, really, where does Econ fit in the greater sphere of existence? My GPA? What does it matter? There's a bigger picture. -- and that picture is Hell, by the way, and it resembles Dante's Inferno in many, many ways, but the Buddhists have a lot more paperwork to do.

This isn't one of the scrolls at the Schnitzer (this one is part of the Kagel Collection), but it's fairly representative. Basically people are getting tortured all over the place (tongues cut out for lying; sawed in half for ... I don't know, doing something bad) while the head guy discusses procedure with his many assistants. In most of the scrolls the head man appears to be in mid-sentence, probably going over the TPS reports with some minion, while some hapless mortal gets crushed in a vice.

Great stuff.

Reminded me that art and books are all that really matter. Give me art on a bad day and I'm good to go.

And art with people getting punished hell while paperwork is going on ... mannnnnnnn, what a tonic. Reminds me of when I used to come home after a bad day and watch Gallipoli -- no matter how bad my day was, it wasn't that bad.

FORK IT

I got an F today. It was on an Economics quiz. [shock. horror.]

Part of me is worried big about the exam on Wednesday, and part of me is just done with it. Marginal Cost vs. Marginal Benefit ... what the f..k is my marginal benefit in this? Because it's costing a fortune in time, money and emotional strain. I really hate crying on the bus.

Whatever. 3 more weeks to go. Carry me down.

Veda .... oh Veeeeeeeeeedaaaaa

Veda is a cat./She is a Si-a-mese/She likes to play with toys/She is so ea-sy to please/I think she is just swell/I really like to dwell/On herrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Okay, I can't do it. Doesn't sound a thing like "Venus". Besides, every time I want to sing "Venus" I hear my pop say "You know how we used to sing this song in high school?" (no, dad, no! "Oh peeeeeeeeenis .... oh peeeeeeeeenissssss")

And so this is Veda, the replacement pet. She's settled in, thanks to the double-hangovers last weekend incapacitating myself and the cousin/roommate which left us incapable of doing anything but watch 1970s movies and pet the cat. She likes her purple caterpillar (shown above) and my socks, and is well on the way to being trained as a dog-cat. (She's currently swinging around one of my dirty socks from the laundry. I'm going to train her to walk on a leash one day, you'll see.)

Her other early morning favorite past-time is wrestling down the scratch post. She's pinned it here and has earned a rest.

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.