Who Cries For Guy

Or Nottingham? Or Richard (III)? Or egg cream?

Who cries for you?

No one.

No one who can help you, at any rate.

Oh Noes! Can't Sleep Again!

WUT WORSE?

Finding the BBC series North and South on Netflix instant.

And the series being awesome like Pride and Prejudice and starring a guy that looks like the unholy love child of Hugh Jackman, Adrien Brody, and Gerry Butler. With the brooding of Firth's Darcy thrown in.

HEDEXPLODZ!!!!!

How? Why? It's like the evil forces in the universe reached into my brain and retrieved the description of a beautiful man and then built Richard Armitage to those specs.

Lookit this ridiculousness:

http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/john-thornton?before=1304203400

With the nose and the hair and the eyes and the HIGH COLLAR.

Have mercy.

Good News and Stuff

I have forgotten to record a piece of awesome news what has happened upon me.

(sometimes i have what alcoholics refer to a 'moment of clarity' and realize that people who visit this blog might think english is not my first language)

Anyhoodle, my super righteous leetle seester and some yet-to-be-revealed friends got together and bought me a plane ticket back East for the holidays.....how freaking cool is that??!!!!

I almost cried when she told me. It's an amazing gift. I am humbled.

Guess what I did this weekend? CRITMUS CARDZ!!!!!

Dat's allota dimp!

By my count I've done up about 56 cards so far. It doesn't sound like much, but it takes forever. Next year I'm buying labels and printing out my return address. I also think it's a bad sign when the stamp cost supersedes the card cost.

My friends Omey Pie and his loverly Mrs. are sending me some headgear, so I can Skypes with Bef. For those of you who don't know Bef, or maybe haven't seen her in a while, let me give you a refresher:

Ahhh...that's always a good one.

It's nice to be remembered. Omey is great about letting you know when you're on his mind. To wit (and soooooo NSFW):

And in the continuing awesome adventures of George, this little gem by way of my friend Bijoux:

This man is a national treasure. For reals.

p.s. hee...drunk!bef. . .

AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

It's funny because it's true.

Throat Disfigurement Waning!

I can swallow without severe pain! My throat is no longer a grotesque, swollen, mishaped Lovecraftian nightmare!

I believe this morning is the first time in three days that I'm actually able to completely swallow, as in the throat muscles are not impeding by softball sized tonsils.

TMI? I don't care!

Pain is so relative. My throat still hurts, but the fact that it works and that it only hurts when I do something (as opposed to just radiating pain) makes all the difference.

Now I'm excited. Maybe I'll sleep past 4 am tonight.

Is this miracle the benefit of modern science? Or the result of watching all my back episodes of The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson? You make the call.

You Know That Scene In Movies. . .

. . . where our hero is presented with the pretty outfit to wear to the Big Event? And it's usually accompanied by some fancy ornaments, like a cherished heirloom or expensive jewels.

I think the reason those scenes are universal is not because identify with wanting to wear beautiful things, but because we want to believe we are already beautiful things deserving of decoration.

I don't know if that makes sense on paper, but it did in my head.

I Have Been In A Misery

It started off with a migraine so bad I couldn't sleep.

This led to diagnosis of tonsillitis. Yep, because I'm an 8 year old or something.

But wait, what better way to follow up a night of intense head and sinus pain than with a night of throat pain so bad that you can't sleep more than 45 minutes a whack?!?

Bonus points for not being able to lie down: dials the pain up to 11 because it compresses the tonsils or some shit.

It hurt to swallow spit. It hurt even when I didn't swallow.

Fortunately, my good friends Princess O and Lin Lin both ferried my deranged ass around town. Between doctor's offices, phone calls, and WAY too many trips to Rite Aid, I am as prepared as one soul can be for the oncoming night.*

2011: So Not My Year.

*That's prepared in the sense that doctor's won't provide heavy duty pain pills (not really desired) or a steroid spray to reduce insane swelling which has caused partial blockage in throat. How the hell are you supposed to get better if the inflammation prevents you from eating, drinking, swallowing the med, or sleeping?

Is It Wrong That I Hear Lords of Acid In My Head. . .

. . . everytime the ice cream truck goes by playing "Pop Goes The Weasel?"

Perhaps it is the sign of a misspent youth. (I typed "ultimate sign" at first, but then I realized I have so many signs of misspent youth, I'm really in no position to declare one more significant than another.)

It's trite to say it, but the Internets really will suck your life away. It's hard to do All Of the Things. Here are some of the things I've been doing/looking at lately.

+ With the release with what is rumored to be the final Batman in the Nolan franchise, we all know it's just a matter of years, maybe even months, before we get another "reboot." HuffPo is already on it, with a list of candidates.

It's probably not cool to say it, but I think Michael Keaton is my favorite Bat-Dude so far. It was an inspired choice, and I've often wondered how another primarily comic actor would do in the role. In fact, Burton's first pic had an interesting juxtaposition: comedic actor in the relatively straight role, and deadly SRS BIZNS actor in the flamboyant cartoonish role.

Out of HuffPo's list, Ryan Gosling leaps out at me. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's the deceptively gentle, preppie face that you wouldn't expect to be all dark and twisty? I haven't seen much of his work, but he is a man of justice in real life. Also, he covered snobby elite and mentally unstable in that Sandra Bullock crime movie. 

+ Hey kids, want to waste endless amounts of time and have a ridiculous looking image to show for it? Hit up Instyle's Hollywood Makeover page. Save your work often, as it tends to be a little freeze-y. I have learned the valuable lesson that I shouldn't follow my teenage dream of cutting off all my hair and bleaching it blonde. I look like a Dickensian orphan boy out to pick your pocket. No, I won't post the picture. But a certain friend got a lulz-worthy one of me with Farrah Fawcett hair.

Sometimes (mosttimes) the dream is so much better than the reality.

+ I love's me a Meloni Sammich! Plus, Chris Meloni and HBO are two great tastes that taste great together. Hope this turns out ot be true. (From D-Listed)

+ My mom sent me this link for the top 25 submissions to DamnYouAutoCorrect.com . Hard to pick a favorite, but "Volvo" and "Mom?" stand out. My iPad has done some autocorrects on my mail, but nothing this hilarious.

+ So I couldn't sleep again last night. I have no idea why. But it lead to me watching the 1982 version of Cat People, with Malcom McDowell, Natassia Kinski, and a surprisingly fetching John Heard. The flick is done a disservice and hugely dated by the heavy synth soundtrack, but it seemed okay. I usually have an iron clad stomach, but there's a scene with McDowell where he's, well, grooming himself after an event. Dude, it seriously makes my gag relfex hiccup just a little. I have to stop thinking about it now.

But watching this film made me think about a phrase that has changed slightly, but perhaps significantly, since early 80s. People used to say "make love with" in a first person sense, e.g. "I want to make love with you." It's a very odd phrase to hear today, when the common saying would be "I want to make love to you."

And it got me thinking, does that tiny change denote a larger shift in our cultural attitudes towards sex? Is it significant that sex has altered from something you do with someone to something you do to someone? Are we more self absorbed now, and lovemaking springs from us and we simply inflict it on a likely partner/victim? Blah blah psychobabblecakes.

Probably some Berkeley student wrote a thesis on this a decade ago, but I wanted to put my undiluted thoughts out there before researching.

+ This is turning into a rather lengthy tome, so maybe I should wrap this up for now. I leave you with a still from the upcoming Alien prequel, Prometheus. Looky looky, it's my unlikely ginger crush, Fassbender. In another improbable outfit. And dyed blond. And there was much rejoicing

Found at slashflilm.com

Oh Noes!!11!!!

Oh dear, I've decided to clean and reorganize my flat. You know what that means:

DISASTAH HAS STRUCKEDED MAI HAUS!

And I have to go out and buy things. Like groceries. Wah! And do the ridiculous deposit/transfer shuffle required to pay my rent and stuff.

Wut worse!!!: have to change out of Lebowski uniform to do this crap.

Man, I probably even have to stop and put gas in my car.

Where does it all end???!!!!

~this post brought to you be ineffectual whining and general uselessness~

Big Brother Is Watching, And Tracking. And Storing.

Okay, this is where my paranoid friends who are mild technophobes get to scream "Told you so!"

Your cell phone is a spy. Your carrier is tracking you. Hell, there's a company that specializes in the software they surreptiously install on the phone for this precise purpose. Motives? That's up for debate. But they sure as shit were quick to try and shut up the guy who pointed this out.

All your keystroke are belong to us.

But it's not just specialty software. Their record keeping practices are creepy as well. Conspiracy theorists will say this is at the behest of the government. Carriers could make the argument  that it's for quality assurance and metrics. But I think the fact that this information was originally submitted as a "Law Enforcement Only" document for the Justice Department is a bit alarming.


Keeping tabs on the Joneses.

For accuracy's sake, I must mention that I haven't followed my customary three sources rule to confirm these reports. And they both come from the same source, Wired magazine. Because of the video and document evidence presented with these articles, I'm taking them at initial face value.

And I was going to post a bunch of other stuff, but this depressed me. And my computer stopped working, as usual. Conspiracy against facts, or conspiracy against an OS that operates for more than a few years?

To cheer myself up, something I found while responding to comments today.

George Takei Is Awesomer Than You Thought

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UACK93xF-FE&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Seriously.

I'm Helping, I'm Helping!

It's a good thing I'm only in charge of one non-essential item for the Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow.

In my weak defense, I would like to point out that it has been years since I baked a pie. Furthermore, the pie crust makers do not have instructions anywhere on the package, including the recipe suggestions on the back of the label. In our over-informed society this was strange indeed.

And led to this:

The carnage was grim and expansive:

On a positive note, graham cracker crust is delicious even when you don't bake it. I shall be breakfasting on it for a few days.

I'm no Pillsbury Dough Boy, but I'm pretty sure that crust is damaged beyond use. So it was off to the grocery store on the the worst day for grocery shopping in North America.

I got back home and got to work on this blessedly simple recipe. It at least *looks* okay, but I guess we will find out tomorrow.

I now have positve proof that my oven definitely burns hotter in the back.

Every day is a learning experience. The real question is how long I will retain any of the info.

Busy Couple Of Weeks

Well, there's been some doings around here. I guess I should qualify that "busy" tag: it's been comparatively busy for a person with thyroid deficiency who gets pooped out by more than one activity a day.

I have begun the job search in semi-earnestness. Still trying to balance something I'm interested in against things for which I qualify. My current paradigm is to apply for jobs I can do (but will dislike) that make the money I want.  On the other hand, I'm looking at any job that skews towards something I might like, regardless of pay. Slim pickings so far, but we'll see.

I have also rebooted my freelancing efforts and started my own small consulting business. Going to market initially to folks I've worked with before. This def falls into category of business I don't want to do for the rest of my life, but doing it on a consultant basis might make a difference. At least it will be work I can take or leave. Fingers crossed that my old associates will want to hire me for some stuff.

The Awesome and Amazing Tink and Pandaman came for a brief visit on their way east. They are relocating for a short while. They are such awesome friends--I think they have been to my house more than anyone else, including folks who live here. They are super easy houseguests, which is saying something in a one room studio.

See, I can cook. And by cook, I mean use prepared pizza crust and WAY too much garlic.

 In honor of my houseguests, and in acknowledgement of the fact that not everyone can live off Triscuit crumbs and milk, I made some food and bought a shitton more.

Easy as they may be, Tink and Panda are also very tricksy. I turned my back for a second, and suddenly all their stuff was in my house.

This is before they went out and bought a bed and more stuff!

Joke was on them, though. Even though it was just the contents of a mini Cooper, their stuff could not fit in my house. Hahahahaha, poverty wins again! It's funny that even in a 36 hour stretch, we manage to create jokes, have theme songs, and run them into the ground. For this visit it was:

--"Total Eclipse of the Heart." So very many unintentional times.
--Taking back "Fuck you!"
--Candy. Candy. Candy. And Ice Cream!
--Incidental music was provided by Mike Tyson.

They carried on their merry way the next day. Will I ever see those mysterious strangers again????

Watch out for this guy. Don't let the awesome chops lull you.

My uncle visited, and we did a quick stroll down Hollywood and drive up in the Hills. Our time in front of Grauman's directly led to me finally getting to stalk see Craig Ferguson tape a show! Lin Lin and Princess O graciously agreed to make these last minute plans with me.

Let me just say that going to a taping is a commitment. It takes hours, you are a clapping monkey, and stupid hobags with too much plastic surgery get chosen to be in Lesbian Row instead of you.

Hello...I dressed up (per site instructions) for this. How dare you put some Botoxed, stretched out, too-light-lipstick-wearing biatches over me! *sigh*

Anyhoo, Craig isn't kidding, that studio is teeny tiny. The staff were foul mouthed and cool, and I'd do it again. Maybe after I lose 50lbs and get some botulism injected into my face.

Serendipitously, frequent commenter and Friend of the Blahg, Orchid Lover, was in town and saw CraigyFerg that same week!  We managed to meet up, in spite of my extreme lateness and doofiness. OL was patient and kind, and we finally got together all too briefly for some cocktails and conversation.

We met up at the Tar Pits, which upon reflection is funny for many reasons. OL is every bit as cool as her comments denote, and I was touched that she took time out of her busy schedule to visit with me.

As I walked her back to her parking garage, we passed the LACMA front installation. My pix don't do it justice, but for what it's worth:

In between frantically cleaning my postage stamp domicile, I also decided to do some autumnal cleaning. In this case, I smoked too much crack and decided I need to downsize my already-downsized makeup collection. In fairness, it's probably well past time to ditch some of these things for expiration of ingredients if nothing else.

Wah! But it should go if it smells off, has separated, etc. Right?

Well, this naturally led into me BUYING MORE MAKESUPS. The lovely Lin Lin actually volunteered (I know, right?) to go with me to Sephora. Hours later, I emerged with a pretty cool kit. Sephora has a neat practice of actually creating sets that contain items from several different brands. I scored a set that had many types of things I wanted to try:

Glitz & Glam--Sephora Favorites.

I could do a review, if anybody is interested.

Retail therapy really does work for me. Makeup shopping/cruising is something my little seester and I used to do. I really miss those times. But going with Lin Lin was fun and I felt picked up afterwards. I think she had fun too--it's always nice to meet a fellow cosmetics junkie.

In cancer/thyroid news, the doc has upped my meds again. I should probably do a summary review, because lord knows I've had trouble finding stuff in my own searches on the webz. Hopefully I will get my dosing resolved in the next few weeks, as I'm probably having to boot my insurance at the end of 2011. Blatherblahb welcomes any advice on insurance for "cancer survivors" and other folks unlucky enough to have pre existing conditions.

To close, here is an entry on http://icanhascheezburger.com that had me laughing so hard I couldn't breathe. I don't know why, but I think it was Igor and Cerberus. Hope you enjoy.

http://icanhascheezburger.com/cheezburger-confidential-tacgnol/

For People That Don't Think We Need Healthcare Reform

This is a post I don't want to make because it's messy, complicated, leads to tangents, and makes me mad. However, this line of thought has occurred to me so many times, and caused me so much stress, that I feel compelled to record it.

I don't care what your politics are; healthcare needs to be examined and overhauled. The changes made can't come soon enough and are probably too little too late for hundreds of thousands as it is. I'm not even sure why healthcare is a matter of party allegiance. The more I see, the less sense party affiliation makes.

I assume that the point of labels like "Democrat" and "Republican" are to provide a shorthand for understanding the viewpoints of the party members. But this seems like engineered prejudice and ignorance. Shouldn't our legislators be people who weigh each issue as it appears, taking into consideration current and future ramifications? Instead, we have two (nigh indistinguishable) parties that have made up their minds on the answer before they ever hear the specific question. This doesn't strike anyone else as Totally Verkakte?

At any rate, healthcare is the general point of this post. So here's a single healthcare story for you, broken down into salient points for easy digestion:

• Exhibit A: Tax paying US citizen who has worked entire adult life. 
• Citizen takes a new job, moves across country, incurs debt for relocation and increase cost of living
• Citizen is laid off from job after 6 months
• Due to this lay off, citizen loses income and health benefits
• Four weeks before lay off, citizen is diagnosed with cancer
• Citizen manages to work with doctors and staff and gets surgery and bulk of treatment done before lay off. 
• However, this does not cover post op and follow up treatments. Medication is FOR LIFE. Adjustment and required testing to ensure proper medication and critical cancer repression can take up to ONE YEAR POST OP. 
• Citizen is eligible for COBRA continued insurance benefits, which clock in at approx $500/month.
• Citizen is not eligible for major medical coverage or other state or federal programs, because they are "eligible" for COBRA. In addition, most "relief" programs require the participant to have an uncovered period of 6 months to a year.
• Citizen's unemployment benefits cannot cover rent and the COBRA payments. This does not factor in car payments, food, debt, utilities, gasoline, etc.
• Citizen's monthly medical bills, barring a recurrence of cancer or an unforeseen medical emergency, clock in at less than the COBRA $500/month. However, if the health insurance is allowed to lapse it can have far reaching effects. Even if the citizen gets a job with health coverage in the next three months, they could fall into the category of PRE EXISTING CONDITION. This fun little clause allows an insurance company to deny payment on services rendered for up to ONE YEAR. For example, this citizen's medication and cancer screenings could still be out of pocket for up to a year. The only way to insure this doesn't happen is to have NO LAPSES IN COVERAGE.
• Citizen now faces several critical items: recovery from major illness, job hunting in depressed economy (that's RIGHT, I SAID IT, depressed depressed depression depressed), and whether to put money towards health insurance or rent and food.

Does this seem like a reasonable system to you? Everything is all fair and works out? Just like with our credit cards, we've created a world we can't afford to live in. I've worked steady jobs my whole life. I've always paid my taxes. I give to charities. And I can't even afford to keep myself alive . This didn't happen to me because I'm lazy or careless. This kind of thing is happening to Everybody. 

Wake up, America. Quit letting speculative future greed and the machinations of the economically elite crap all over you. This isn't about politics. The American Dream is more ephemeral than ever; none of us will ever know the pain of paying taxes on our millions and billions because we can't even afford our cable and cell phone bills.

The system isn't just broken. It's killing us.

Cat Poo & Face Suckers

or. . . .

Just Another Phone Call From Mom

My mom kills me, truly. She'll get going about some insane thing that happened to her, and I'll start laughing silently so as not to enrage her, but I never quite make it. Silent laughter turns outnto be a not so silent killer.

memo to cosmos

any time you would like to stop with the 3 am wake ups, the nagging headaches, or the distressed sinuses, that would be grand.

blearily,

blatherblahg

I Should Never Speak

So I'm flipping channels and there's a slow camera track into a yacht below deck. The actor has his back to the camera. He looks vaguely familiar.

I glanced at the info bar and it says, Sharktopus.

I say, "Holy shit. If thats Eric Roberts I have to watch this whole movie!"

Alas, it IS Eric Roberts. WTF?

I Read Twilight, So You Don't Have To

I think everybody who knows me has heard my ranting and raving about this series of novels and the one film I sat through.

And really, there's no point in saying much more, especially when so many people have already done an incredible job.

So anyhoo, the other day Twilight came on commercial television for the first time, OMG!!11!! HEDEXPLOADZZZ!!!!

Except not really. But I did feel compelled to revisit some of the books and look a few things up on line. The fruits of which, I share with you now.

Firstly, in the Del Amitri category, I suppose I am the last to know that the companion piece to Twilight was leaked on the interwebz. This led to the author graciously posting the half finished draft on her website. And not so graciously putting an ALLSTOP on the completion. Now, if the other books made your brain bleed, get ready for biblical hemmoraghing. I give ye, Midnight Sun.


http://www.stepheniemeyer.com/midnightsun.html

My quick recap of this story is:

• the girl/this girl
• True Love means never taking out a restraining order
• chagrin Chagrin CHAGRIN CHAGRIN CHAGRIN
• Chivalry CHIVALRY chivalry CHiVAlry CHIVALRY CHIV SHIV SHIV THEM ALL
• chivalrous chagrin 
• No one understands meeeeeee! 
• Emo wank at the jedi master level

If that doesn't entice you to read it, may I just say that all Twi-verse experiences are greatly enhanced by the consumption of this fair lady's comments. Here is the wit extraordinaire of cleolinda:

http://cleolinda.livejournal.com/638712.html

I totes read Midnight Sun just to read her commentary on it. I believe her Twilight/Twinkie metaphor to be very apt. I know exactly how she feels, being a willing participant in bad movie watching behavior that puzzles some of my friends.

It's just, sometimes it hurts so good, you know?

And for those of you who, like me, are endlessly amused by CAPSLOCK conversations, check out "Growing Up Cullen":

http://balcarin.livejournal.com/462027.html

This one is chock full of good stuff, including this exchange, which brought tears to my eyes (balcarin and welurklate are posing as Edward, upset due to some pilfering of his scrapbooking supplies):

balcarin: EMMETT YOU HAVE TO GO BUY ME NEW STICKERS
balcarin: RIGHT NOW!!!!
welurklate: COME ON, WE ARE TAKING THE JEEP
welurklate: I AM NOT KIDDING
balcarin: and emmett would be like OH HELL NO I AINT GOING IN THAT STORE
welurklate: I'LL TELL MOM

I Just Watched CSPAN. . . On Purpose(!?)

Ironically, it was an address by Harvey Levin, of TMZ notoriety.

Mr. Levin had some interesting things to say about innovation in media, changes in journalism, and the Internet's continuing influence on those matters and the world in general.

He was not the loathsome sleaze I expected. I also didn't realize he was gay. My west coast gaydar is verkakte.

Seriously? We Deserve Extinction

So, um, flipping channels and "Toddlers and Tiaras."

Besides the many obvious things wrong with this concept in general, this one is specifically sick: a three year old just did a ~talent~ section dressed and dancing in the style of Michael Jackson.

There are no words in the english language to adequately express the perverse ironic Wrongness of this happenstance.

Holy shit, just as I was about to post, another section of the pageant came up. There was a kid dressed as cone breasted madonna, one as a pimp, and another one as MJ--this one literally grabbed her crotch, repeatedly.

These mothers should be slapped. Hard. Repeatedly.

Holy Shit, He's a White Dude! (And Other Musical Musings)

Coldplay is webcasting for free right now. Pretty cool. (Probably over by the time I finish this post).Thanx AMEX, guess this makes that yearly membership fee worth it. I know the points program sure as hell doesn't.

http://www.youtube.com/coldplayvevo?om_rid=NsmmUf&om_mid=_BOqEXyB8eGP0qS&om_lid=gen103

So, the Interwebz is both magical and a bit of a killjoy. You can find information about practically anything, no matter how obscure. While this is immensely gratifying, there are losses. People with minds for trivia (*cough*me*cough*) are being rendered obsolete. Especially with the advent of 3G/4G data streaming. Fucking iPhone has made me useless. And though I do have my hunches proved right in a more timely manner, I now make less money by betting against inebriated bar patrons.

The other loss is the joy in a certain type of reminiscing. The kind where you say, "Hey, anybody remember that song/movie/book that went 'Something, something, power windows, something, blah blah?'" and your friends go, "No, but I do remember 'Blah Blah babycakes whoopsie blah,' was it by that guy's brother?"

And from such modest and befuddled beginnings, hours of conversation and information exchange sprang forth.

Now everybody just whips out their phone/pocket super computer and we are forced to endure YouTube clips like we used to have to brave a wallet full of family photos. The video clips are only mildly less aggravating that the picture of your 22 month old covered in pudding. At least thumbing through the wallet pix was shorter.

Now that I'm done with my Luddite grumping, here's the part where I glory in all the Web does afford. Yesterday I went online to look for work. I didn't quite make it, as I got distracted by updating a playlist. I awoke with a lyric in my head, to the tune of  "Down in Jamaica they got lots of pretty women/ Steal your money and they break your heart." As the morning progressed, that song was interspersed with "That's how much/ That's how much/ I live for your loving/ That's how much."

Well, looking up those songs just started an avalanche. I started searching for all the songs I used to hear on the radio during that time in my life. Surprisingly to me, but I'm sure no one else, a huge portion of my music was Yacht Rock. I've also realized that Crosby, Stills, Nash (and sometimes Young) have had an unhealthy influence on my life. Ditto for America and Ambrosia. What the hell?

(This Coldplay concert is pretty damn good. I just squeed b/c Politik came on. YEAH!!!!! Oh crap, now it's Viva la Vida. This crowd is amazing.)

Anyhoo, I really was going to job hunt. But my computer froze and got all funky on me when I started doing serious stuff. Sign from god or happenstance? You make the call. I'm back on today, and as you can see, music has sidetracked me yet again. After the National Geographic Channel gave me a double whammy this morning with The Devil's Bible and the The Unreadable Book. Damn, I am such a sucker for that stuff.

But I have set aside Nat Geo and vow to get some shit done today. But first. . . . . . . (you see the problem here, right?)

I FINALLY remembered to look up a song that has been haunting me for years. Not just for the song itself, but I swear the horn melody has been sampled in many songs. Well, this is what I found:

Check his ass out! What the crap? This is right up there with finding out Rick Astley was a cracker, back in '88. Anyhoodle, that song is wicked smooth and has some soul behind it.

Ah, Coldplay is encoring with "Clocks."

I suppose some people would view this entire post as a condemnation of my musical taste. Hmmm.

Oh well, it makes me happy. Now they are playing "Fix You." It's weird, but I have this theory that you can spot when a songwriter has had children. This is one of two Coldplay songs that signal that to me.

RDJ, Hackman, Elliott, Dempsey

What do these four actors have in common?

Well, I've playing catchup on my DVR, so I've seen a few more commercials than usual.

These are actors I'm pretty sure I've heard narrating some tv ads.

Downey--Nissan cars, specifically the "wouldn't it be cool?" one
Hackman--Lowes hardware, I think
Elliott--some trucks, but I'll be damned if I can recall. Chevy, GMC
Dempsey--these werebawhile back, but maybe it was Mitsubishi?

Finally caught up on The Mentalist and Criminal Minds. CM is awesome bc they hired back all the chick characters. And it was all worth it for Reid's sotto voce vow to Morgan, "I will crush you."

(. . . I Wish I Was)

I spend a lot of time trying to figure out how things work. I spend a (probably unhealthy) amount of time on self analysis, falling victim to the seemingly logical supposition that if I want to understand the world, I must have an understanding of myself.

I had naturally expected that as I got older and gained experience, I would also gain understanding. And with that, greater peace, greater calm. But that just doesn't seem to be the case. Some days it feels like quite the converse.

I've been kicking around the psychology and philosophy of knowing oneself and balancing that against external input. That is, to have a sense of identity but not be deaf to other viewpoints--some of which might have truth or value I've overlooked.

And yet, and yet, and yet. . .

Recently a friend greeted me at the beginning of an outing with a rather unpleasant report of how I had apparently upset and set to grumbling a whole room full of people after my departure. For me, it came out of left field. While I'm pretty sure it was done with no malice--and I believe my friends have a right to express their honest opinions about me, to me--it was still abrupt and out of place, at least to me.

I had a similar experience recently when someone bid me adieu and snuck in a parting shot, casually citing something about my character that I have expressed concern and contrition over, many times. Something, in other words, of which I'm not fond nor proud and which I'm trying to work through.

Someone else recently expressed interest in the possibility that I might return to a former residence. When I asked what had changed, since we didn't hang out when we were neighbors, they replied "Well, you're not crazy anymore." Skipping right past the implication that anything that had ever gone wrong was solely my fault, let me just say that the joke is on them: I'm just as shithouse insane as ever.

Moments like these, where an item of potential sensitivity is treated with casualness, tossed out like a beach ball when it's really a lobbed hand grenade--they really throw me for a loop. Besides the hurtful messages and notwithstanding any truths they may contain, it leaves me wondering: is it me that doesn't make sense, or the world? Have I done such a poor job in communicating essential things about my person that these a the garish results? Or have I somehow earned a level of disregard and insensitivity. Are people just giving back to me their interpretation of what I put out?

So, here's a few things I think I may have sorted out.

• Being open minded and honest tends to make people think that you are open about everything in your personal life. It doesn't. It just means you're not into judging others for what's going on in their lives. 
• Being honest can come across, can even end up being, blunt. When you are blunt or plain spoken about something, people assume that you are insensitive. 
• Honesty and bluntness also lead people to believe that you don't think about others' emotions. They assume you just bash away at life. I think a lot of people who have labeled me blunt, hard case, intimidating etc, would be surprised to know how much time I spend thinking about how other people feel. And how energy I expend in trying not to hurt people's feelings, in being aware of the hot buttons and sore points and delicacies of those around me. 
• Here's a big one: I think if you can vocalize a feeling, and/or discuss an event in a rational manner, everyone assumes you don't have strong emotions, or any emotions. Even if your discussion is contains phrases such as "I have a really hard time with/ I'm really ashamed of/ I am very angry about,"--if you are not crying, frothing at the mouth, kicking and screaming, people associate very little emotional attachment on your part. 
• If you try to be honest, open, and promote rational discourse about all events, including the emotional ones, people assume you are bulletproof. They think they can come at you swinging, because, hey, that's what you do to them and besides you don't get upset, right? 

For the record and for the bajillionth time: I am all for honesty. I would always rather have the truth than a convenient or comfortable lie.

But I'm not bulletproof.

Boomerangs and Babbies at the Beach

So, besides nuptials, other things were gotten up to on the Gulf Coast these last few weeks.

Innocent looking, but not to be trusted.

Got a boomerang lesson from some scooter-riding hottie. First rule of Boomerang Club: Don't talk about Boomerang Club. Second rule of Boomerang Club: If you see one coming for you, move. Quickly. 

In a moment that sort of sums up my entire experience here on Earth, I threw and caught a boomerang on the second try. The rest of the attempts ranged from mildly disastrous to injury inducing. That's me, folks. No real luck, no real skill, just the vague shadows of those things which give a false, cruel hope of betterment.

Got to eat lunch at Dee's Hangout--it was Fried Chicken Tuesday! Dee's holds the honor of being the only restaurant I deem worth ordering fried chicken or collards from--all the others are bullshit. Dee himself was on the premises, and made sure our large party got seated as quickly as possible. I would say I had the banana pudding, but the portion I took home mysteriously disappeared after I took two bites and put it in the fridge. Mysterious. . . .

I like ridiculous things, and so do my friends. I challenge you to watch this and prevent yourself from mimicking it. It's impossible.

Unfortunately, no locale is without its darker elements. NW Florida is no exception, and I and my family encountered some serious thuggery during my visit.

Two wild and crazy guys!

 Sure, at first they seemed friendly. Hell, we even invited them in. Big mistake.

Tricksy and slippery, this one.

 See that look in her eye? See how she's cleverly evading the grasp of authority? And what is her cohort doing?

Not a got-dayum thing. Because Slick there knows what's coming. It's all sweetness and light. . . until Babby Wants Something.

Say, old man. Are those ciggies and whiskey? Gimme a coffin nail and a cuppa, luv.

Perhaps you didn't hear me, good sir. Please quite trying to remove the heart meds and ciggies. BABBY WANTS A FIX!

Not only did the little fiend try to make off with the hooch and the smokes, but she pulled a Shiva-like transformation. Suddenly it was as if she had 8 arms, all making like Pete Townsend in a non-stop strike to gobble up the goodies.

This kid had run around, crawled on bare wood on her knees, busted her lip open the day before---all no problem. But when she didn't get her hooch? Oh, the wailing and gnashing of teeth. This child is a hooligan.

Wanted: One Juvenile Delinquent. Goes by "Octopus." Approach with caution, secure your alcohol, firearms, and medications. Watch for accomplice, also extremely short.

If you run into these two, don't bother appealing to the mother for help. She just laughs. And laughs. And laughs.

One of the highlights (or lowpoints) of my trip was my little bro's never ending supply of MST3K movies. He trotted out several gems from the post Joel years that I hadn't seen. (Jooooooeeeeeel!) One of these was Space Mutiny.  Egads. Highlights include:

*incredible slow speed chase with modified golf carts that probably gets up to 2.5 mph.
*bad editing that leads to the miraculous resuscitation of murdered cast
*guardrails, guardrails, guardrails
*Captain Santa Claus--most incompetent leader ever.
*age inappropriate make outs
*one of the most unlikely villain names ever
*a "star" is a muscle bound lad with the unlikely name of Dave Ryder. Mike and the Bots have some fun with alternate names for him.

It occurs to me that I am telling this story all out of order, but oh well.

Nuptials in NW Florida

~And Other Filthy Sounding Adventures~

Except for the no money/security thing, being unemployed is pretty great. This recent trip marks the second time in my (so called adult) life that I've been able to indulge in an extended stay. I wanted these recap posts to be sensible, easy to follow, etc. But every time I begin composing those entries I lose the thread, get lost in mountains of words, and in general defeat myself before I even begin.

So you know what that means, kiddies!

What, BlatherBlahg?

More nonsensical meanderings and swiss cheesed narratives!

My second night there, me and my usual band of miscreants met at the usual place and did the usual thing. The Klesmerizers were reunited! Unfortunately, we didn't come ready to perform.

You gotta appreciate someone who brings their own grub to the bar. Go, fellow Klesmerizer, go!

Also a band member, and occasional road manager for the band. We don't get as many gigs as you might think.

Badly shopped pic of Table of Doom. Our party was too large, so we had to switch to back up benches and scoot them together. Altered to protect the Guilty and the Even Guiltier.

So, some other things happened which I will discuss later. That Thursday saw me headed for my first "destination" wedding at the Bonne Terre house in Seacrest, FL. (Please note, half the "beach" names in NW FL are pure shite. These people just make up a name for the plot of land they've plunked their rental mansions on. I'm pretty sure "Seacrest" doesn't really exist in any county registry anywhere).

The front.

The back.

 I've lived in beach towns and stayed at my share of condos and hotels and what have you. But this place was amazing. Literally right on the beach, with gorgeous and plentiful accommodations. Plenty of bathrooms, plenty of seating, amazing views, and a general sense of serenity.

First floor back deck.

View from second floor back porch. Not even a promotional pic. Just me with my little camera. Feel very free to turn green and vomitous with envy.

In a moment of extreme sagacity, the betrothed couple put their friends in the upstairs half, and their family in the downstairs half. I haven't felt like such a kid since sitting at the tiny fold out table at Thanksgiving. But as noted above, it was a decision that turned out to be very wise.

My bedroom.

My shared lavatory, joining my room to the Two J's.

 I had my own boudoir, with a super fluffy bed. I got really spoiled by beds this trip, and it saddens me. For I'm in no position to change my current bedding condition. I shared a bathroom (that is as long as my entire apartment) with two of Hotsauce's friends from Maryland. God bless married men, they have such good bathroom etiquette. 

Wedding decorations that came on the largest of three truckloads we unpacked that day. That's right: 3. Truckloads. At least I didn't get roped into setting it up like these poor lads.

The energy in the house was hectic, as it always is before a wedding. I helped as much as I could, but scenes like this always reach the point where there are too many chiefs and not enough Indians. And the chiefs are on the warpath. So I helped really hard where I could, and dipped inside when I felt extraneous. Which ended up being quite often on the last day before the wedding.

Despite the crazy aura of Wedding that permeates such things, the house was remarkably soothing. Non-family guests hung out, starved, subsisted off of beer during the days, and just sort of drifted around.

Easy like Sunday morning. Looking back, I should have arranged a poker tourney.

I love knowing that this picture has a mate somewhere out there, equally silly. It's like Blackhawk and I each have a part of story.

The big day arrived, and all the family's frantic work really paid off. The house was decorated beautifully. The bower on the beach looked amazing. The groom ended up getting ready in my bathroom, which drove me into another bathroom. But I ducked back in to get a final shot of him as a single man.

My Boy, Hotsauce.

Gorgeous dress, gorgeous girl, lucky guy, dreamy wedding. Sickening, no?

Hotsauce grabbed me right before the ceremony and asked a favor. So I got the interesting job of "rosing" the bed. I could've sworn I had pix of that, but then again there were so many camera phones and gadgets around that there is no telling where that photo ended up. 

We got three hours of music from a stainless steel drums/guitar combo--I've known the drummer for years. The whole reception was kind of like that: either people you've known for decades or absolute strangers. An interesting mix. My friends tink and jdog flew in for a visit and came over for the party. My little seester broke it down AWESOMELY to the William Tell Overture. It was the most epic dancing I've seen since the Crocodile Rock of Halloween '05. That girl can work it. 

Like most receptions, you never get to spend enough time with all the people you'd like, because there are so many things going on. But that is the sign of a good party, I think. I did get to spend a fair amount of time with the below deviant. We got convo-bombed by somebody with a loud and abrupt question about breastfeeding, milk pumping, and other personal inquiries. It was a good thing I had champagne in one hand, cake in the other, and a straight whiskey on the sideboard, because by the time my friend started a  "WTF?" commentary under her breath, I was having difficulties keeping a straight face.

Pure, delicious, scientific evil. I love it.

In another moment of Unadulterated Awesomeness, my leetle seester went downstairs for the throwing of the bouquet. It's not really her thing, so I was surprised to see her pull a Matrix-esque acrobatic move to catch the flowers. She dropped forward over one knee, snaked her hand out and snatched that thing up. Then with amazing grace she spun, went down on one knee, and handed the flowers to the four year old girl standing behind her. That kid's face lit up like a Christmas tree. Turns out the little one had expressed her extreme desire for the bouquet as they were standing around, and my sis promised to try and catch it on her behalf. I wish to hell I had videotape of that. 

It was beautiful weather, beautiful decorations. No one fell in the pool. The bride and groom seemed happy. Pretty much a success.

Guess Who's Been Up Since 3 AM?

>Wallace has?

I had the singular privilege of getting to watch Twatlight: Part the Shirtless. Jeezy creezy, the acting and direction of Bella is neurotoxic. But apparently not deadly enough to induce sleep.

I'm getting to hear my flatmates alarm now, which has been going since 7:00. Apparently that person has no trouble sleeping. Fucker.

I'd post about my trip to date, but I require visual aids that I cannot muster with my ipadz.

Good God Y'all

Just now I took a moment to sing a series of lyrics from War out of the cat door to the smokers on the back porch.

All things being equal, I think that would suit me quite well as a remembrance/memorial.

Little Women and packing

Egads, there is absolutely no reason I should have awakened an hour ago. Bleh. All the last minute things that are preying on my mind depend on the opening of stores and offices. Phooey.

Rereading Little Women. iBooks is dangerous, yo. It's more religious than I remember. I still think Amy is a shit.I wonder if I'll still be mad at Jo for refusing Laurie. Or perhaps I will better understand her this go 'round.

Eggplant Casino and the Big Sur Drive-By

My trip to Mid-Cal/NorCal ended this week. It was lots of fun, and I think my hosts were the most gracious I'm likely to ever encounter. Endless thanks to Panda and Tink, for allowing me to let it all hang out, waller, and be pretty useless for over a week.

We saw some live music one night, in a small art gallery/showroom somewhere in downtown Berkeley. The band was Eggplant Casino, and their sound is a bit of a gypsy, latin, swing, jazz hybrid. Raucous and lovely. It was so damn good I bought a CD.

The whole band was tricked out in a wonderfully rag tag style, sort of like Wedding Reception About 6 Pints in--this glorious mash-up of waxed moustaches, hats, dinner jackets, and dress slacks. The trumpeter had on a pork-pie hat and a guayabera--looking like a trumpeter should. The sax player was in a  smart suit, sporting a soul patch. The band leader was swinging a six string base and had the sweetest yellow seersucker suit. The violist and lead interpreter (for the band is originally from Yetchnia) is the lovely Sig, over whom I made quite an ass of myself by ceaselessly remarking on her uncanny resemblance to Penelope Cruz. To wit:

Sig was minus the lacerations and abrasions, for the record.

The band had me at "Hell yetch!" and when they closed with the hauntingly hilarious "No cake for you!" I was hooked. As with a lot of bands, their recordings pale in comparison to their live sets, but take a listen if you're interested. It's kind of like if Andrew Bird, Faith No More, Over the Rhine, Bobby Darin, and the 100% Colombian LP had a baby. And that baby played the marimba.

We skootched down to Monterey to see Omey and Mrs. Omey and the Babby C. Happy 1st to Babby C and Happy Anniversary to the parents. Has it really been two years already? Extra bonus points for Panda being in Tour Guide mode and getting to see the grown ups for bit that evening.

While ambling around Monterey, we hit up part of the beach in Carmel. Believe it or not, this was my first dip into the Pacific since moving here. And it was just a toe dip---that water is crazy cold. The beach was littered with an amount and type of kelp I've never seen. There were masses of green, flat, scaly leaves and yards of stem that looked like rubber hoses. And a ton of odd pod shapes hanging off each tendril. Tink summed it up best:  "It looks like an alien exploded on this beach." I feel that H.R.Geger must have had beaches like this near him in his childhood. If I ever get copies from Tink, I'll post the pix.

Panda and Tink reasoned that since we were so close, we should see Big Sur. So we detoured to drive through it, and what an awesome decision that was.

Roadside View.

Like an oil painting come to life.

You're not paying for the drink at Nepenthe. You're paying for the view. Well worth it, too.

Beware the ravens and jays, for they doth stalk the tables and if thou tarry too long with thy muffin, they shall snatch it.

I use to be of the mind that I'd done a fair amount of ranging in my time, in various types of brush. Big Sur showed me that I had only ever dawdled in woods. This is the first true Forest into which I have ever set foot.

I was surprised to learn that Redwoods are firs. And their bark is extraordinary--there's no pitch to it at all. Panda confirmed that not only was it not fit for burning, but that these forests had evolved to withstand fires and use them as a necessary part of their reproductive cycle. Fascinating.

These pictures don't really do it justice, and are no help in trying to convey the size of the things. We could only stop for a very brief walk through part of one of the parks. But even with the unexpected alien terrain, there was still that old familiar tug. That urge to spot the thinning of the trees and wend a way through; to leave the obvious trail for the hint of a less used track; to range and wander.

Our last day was a pleasant mixture of activity and indolence. We supped at the incredible Burma Superstar. If you are EVER anywhere near San Francisco or Oakland, hie thine ass to this restaurant with a quickness and order the Tea Leaf Salad. It is one of the most incredible things I've ever had the delight of tasting.

We rounded out the evening with a viewing of Silverado. Panda nailed it, saying it's not so much as Western as "Lawrence Kasdan's love letter to Westerns." It does contain every Western cliche I could think of, and was tons of fun. The cast includes Kevin Kline, Scott Glen, Danny Glover, Kevin Costner, Brian Dennehy, and Linda Hunt. I hearts me some Kevin Kline, and this movie is just a good popcorn flick all around.

I feel that's quite enough blather for one sitting.