n-judah love song

four things

Dang it, I've been working on this post for two days and I keep deleting it by accident.

Four jobs I've had:

1. Waitress/bartender/hostess: everywhere from fine dining to dive bars.
2. Webgirl: Virginia Tech Athletics, Enews.com, Yoshitoshi, Seven Networks, and Six Apart.
3. Rave flier girl: yall, I would do anything to move to San Francisco, and this job proved it. This was the most humbling experience I've ever had, and I'm not just talking about getting flashed by a crackhead. This deserves its own post.
4. Clown/singing gorillagram/Pink Ranger/Statue of Liberty: I made $20 an hour as a 16 year old to go get in a costume and amuse some little (and no so little) kids.

Four movies I can watch over and over:

1. The Vertical Ray of the Sun
2. Lost in Translation
3. Return of the Jedi
4. Spirited Away

Four places I've lived:

1. Virginia
2. DC
3. Portland, Oregon
4. San Francisco

Four TV shows I love:

1. Six Feet Under
2. The Daily Show
3. Aqua Teen Hunger Force
4. Anything on VH-1, but I am especially held rapt by "Behind the Music" marathons.

Four places I've vacationed:

1. Every Civil War battlefield, I think. Thanks, Dad.
2. Europe: most notably a week in Amsterdam, where I discovered the Blue Note shop in a random alleyway. I thought I had died and gone to Record Store Heaven.
3. Tahoe
4. Miami

Four of my favorite dishes meals. C'mon, if you're only giving me four, let me choose the pairings.

1. French fries and a Boddington's at Phoenix.
2. Everything bagel, with schmear and tomato, coffee regular.
3. Cowgirl Creamery Mt. Tam cheese and a fine sauvignon blanc.
4. Omakase at Kiss.

Four sites I visit daily:

1. gmail.com
2. my.livejournal.com
3. bloglines
4. NetSuite (boring accounting software stuff)

Four places I would rather be right now:

1. Golden Gate Park with Stella Lou
2. someplace sunny with the requisite sandy beaches and cliché fruity drinks
3. Boston
4. sleeping

Four people who don't have time for this meme, but I'm tagging anyway:

1. Alex
2. Jenny
3. Cindy Lou
4. Ales

she-ra woman power

It's been a while since yall heard one of my stories of Things I Do That Are Dumb, hasn't it?

Well, I moved this weekend. And let me tell you, I'm never doing this without movers ever again. The books alone are worth the price of having two burly dudes come late, overcharge me, break things, and leave well-tipped. Movers, I love you. Kisses! Next time, overcharge me for another hour - I DON'T CARE. I got to keep all my friends and I was done in three hours.

I also got a new bed frame from Ikea. And so I am putting it together, by myself, with power tools, because I am She-Ra Woman Power. Except a lot of those little bolts and screws are missing. And so I hike down Clement to the hardware store, pick up more bolts, and then they ALMOST work, like, are just a teensy tinsy bit smaller than is comfortable for putting my whole ding-dang bed together. But I improvise! And then I hit the last bit, which is of course a screw that will not go in, and I try and try and it's getting dark, and I try some more, and the super-nifty cordless screwdriver is making a noise, and the dog is all "shut up already", and I touch the screw to wiggle it back and forth to see why it won't just do its screwy little job and hold the darn frame together already and OW OW OW THE SCREW HAS MELTED.

My fingertips are all shiny now, though. AND! the bed is together. Let's see if the bolts hold, and maybe I won't crash to the floor in the middle of the night.

observations on a journey

or: Things I Learned in a Week Away from All Yall Lovely People:

I have not only forgotten what used to be mad parallel parking skillz, but also forgotten how to drive like an east coaster. Merging onto Key Bridge was suddenly an exercise in Frogger. Damn, I'm a woos.

My two surviving uncles are exactly like Statler and Waldorf. If you have a Very Serious Function to attend, in which you, by all means, are supposed to be quiet and respectful, do not look the uncles in the eye, because they will lean over and crack a joke and then you will dissolve into a giggle fit, which you have to try to hide by looking as though you are just crying very hard. When, in actuality, you may have sprained some internal laughter-related organ. And then you will cry some anyway, and that is just how this family deals with a tragedy. Oh, and add eleventy-brazillion bottles of booze and forget to drink any water.

My friends have an incredible sense of humor and I've missed them all terribly, especially Culocho, who is not only funny, but super-hosptiable as well, sharing both couch and pug-as-space-heater.

Hello, pulled pork BBQ. And hello to you, mac-n-cheese. Ooo, is that another hot wing there next to the chili dip? And HELLO, cheese grits and grilled shrimp. *snarfle*

The drive from Chicago to Detroit has many more strip clubs than Starbucks. Some of you may think this is a good thing, but honestly, on a road trip, I know I need more latte, less fake boobie.

I am so, so glad to be home.

sitting shiva

I'm traveling back east somewhat unexpectedly for my uncle's funeral. I'll be flying into Chicago early Saturday morning and driving over to my cousin's in Michigan, in a town that is in the middle of approximately nowhere. Good times to be had in flyover country, yall.

So we're all gathering for the death of man we admittedly thought was an asshole in life. It's a lesson in "you love your relatives, but you don't necessarily like them".  However, a funeral is never actually for the person who died, since they're past the point of caring. It's for the rest of the family to process what's happened, and disliking the person doesn't make that any less important. The folks who are coming are the sarcastic, wine-quaffing, pun-making part of the family, including my cousin's new in-laws, so it could actually be some fun, in a macabre Six Feet Under sort of way.

It's such a strange thing to suddenly speak and write about someone in the past tense.

i'll turn that in right after lunch.

I am, like my dad and zillions of other folks, a born procrastinator. I will put off things until the last possible minute, then rush around flapping my hands to complete whatever it is I’m supposed to finish. I particularly do this with things around the house, like sweeping under the bed (arr, there be monsters here!) or actually putting all my chargers in one place so’s I don’t lose them.

I realize that this is a draining way to behave, that until you can get all your little ducks in a row, you can’t really relax, but I always get a little rush off of the last-minute hustle. Trying to take a different approach, I made a list of things I needed to do, and tried to do them all before the week was out - and to actually get something different accomplished each day. Really, so many of them were a matter of spending five minutes, or an hour, and now I am obviously a better person than all yall.

The things I’ve needed to do that have been completed since Saturday afternoon:

Saturday: Saw Me and You and Everyone We Know. Visually delightful with a bit of a thin storyline. However, there are so many little treats in the film that surprise me at how much I think about them: the bit about the talking photo frame, for instance, or the pink shoes.  Plus, I love going to see movies at The Bridge.

Sunday: Washed the dog. She then rolled in the freshly cut grass and turned and alarming shade of green. Also! Organized my closet. I’m awful about even hanging things up, preferring instead to shove everything in one place and shut the door. Sunday afternoon, I did laundry and folded everything neatly, hung up everything, and amazingly enough, the door actually closes now.

Monday: Since I was home sick, I hooked up my stupid old desktop to the internets the old school way, with a long-ass Ethernet cable.

Tuesday: Wrote freelance pieces that are due this week. I’m done with one and the second is still bonking around in my head somewhere, so I reckon this is only partially complete.

Wednesday: Took my iPod back to the Apple store. Again. This is time number four – four! -  that I’ve brought back a faulty iPod for a replacement. For yet another hard drive failure. And I thank them for honoring the warranty and all, but kids, really, I believe a 3G iPod is not meant to work with a PC. More specifically, I don’t think it works very well with iTunes. I switched to Winamp and threw in this nifty plug in, ml_ipod, and presto – I can sync my iPod to music I have both on my computer at work and at home. It actually works like a portable disk drive to listen to music on, instead of a proprietary device that will only sync to one computer at a time. Do I love my iPod any less? No. Because I am part of the Mac cult. I’m thinking about getting a Mac mini just so I can go take it to the Genius Bar when it, too, breaks. Now, that’s successful marketing.

Thursday:  Signed up for a class for fall semester at City College. I'm taking an online course in music appreciation. I figure at least it's something that interests me. Plus, we're supposed to go to three concerts and watch a music movie. Heck yeah, I like that kind of homework.

Today: Update the blog with an actual entry. Ha! You get a laundry list (get it?) of my chores I’ve been putting off.

Things left to do:

Figure out what my new IP address is so that I can hook up aformentioned old desktop to the internets with the magical wireless instead of hauling the long-ass ethernet cord up the stairs.

Make a whiskey cake for the birthday boat trip.

Finish The Life and Times of Michael K.

rock n' roll high school

Like many of my co-workers and friends, I was not particularly fond of high school. Hence, when my 10-year reunion invitation came, my first thought was ”meh.” For God’s sake, it’s being held in the same place that we had our senior prom.

Our high school was actually a secondary school, so we all started in the same building in seventh grade. During that time I suffered through the usual middle school hurdles: eating lunch on the playground outside, nose deep in books that were completely unrelated to my classes, crushing on older boys with girlfriends. (As you see, I have changed not at all.)

High school began, and ended, on an uneasy truce with the popular kids. I wasn’t actively disliked is the best way to put it. I had learned a few social graces. I listened to some pretty cool music courtesy of a friend recently returned from England.  I quit choir and drill team, read even more books and went out dancing.  I played lacrosse and painted set pieces. I hung out with the other freaks and geeks and we counted the days until we could leave for college or points beyond.

So, reuninting with my high school classmates - at least the types of people who would come to a reunion - isn't something I'm really into. Ethan said it would be great just for the experience of seeing all these people from the view I would have now. But really, anyone I liked from high school I've either already talked to, or could easily find me, and a couple of people did, via the reunion website and Classmates.com. I have no problem being found, it’s part of who I am - I’ll tell you anything if you ask me and a lot of times when you don’t. Hence why you read this here blog.

But not everyone is like that, and those people possess more common sense than I do. But a lot of people I would have liked to say hi to have completely disappeared off the map. The freaks mostly. It surprises me time and again that not everyone is Google-able. There were a lot of us who the other kids just didn’t know what to make of, who loved art but hated art classes, who chose taking the F over reading Faulkner,  who are out there and simply don’t want to be found, or still just don’t care what other people think. 

I've always liked that about my friends.

just southern enough

Surprising to exactly no one who is from there too, the author is from Virginia.

"People in the South are proud of being Southern (something which my ex-boyfriend from Vermont found hard to believe), but only when a Girl Raised in the South is taken out of it does she guard it—and flaunt it—with the marked intensity, bordering on flamboyance, of an outsider."

cabin fever

I will be out of town this weekend with my hoooomies in Squaw Creek. I'll be back late Sunday night. Have fun kiddies, and don't do anything I wouldn't do.

debt.

Just about everyone I know my age has credit card debt. 

After lots of time working in restaurants and freelancing, I ended up with a wallet full of cash rather than a bank account full of Real Numbers. I could try to find people to blame, but it is my Own Dumb Fault I ended up with so many things that aren't nearly worth the APR I've paid on them. So I did what any good American would do – I ignored the fact that I was in debt up to my eyeballs.

I made a choice when I started working in a Real Office again that I had to rein myself in. In the past year and a half, I've managed to wrangle my debt down from nearly $12,000 (not including student loans, thank you, those will get paid, like...whenever) to a projected...$1000 in May.

No, really. I swear.

Here's a few tips that I've picked up along the way to get yourself dug out from that hole, cos it starts to feel just as good to pay off debt  as it does to buy things in the first place. (I am obviously a sick woman for thinking this, but stay with me here.)   

Anything is negotiable. Anything. Wrestle these people to the ground if you must, but don't pay what they ask you the first time. These companies are like used-car salesmen on acid.  If your debt is past due, It never hurts to ask if you can pay less if you pay it now, cos it's likely they've  already written it off as a loss. For them, getting something is better than getting nothing.

Do what Jenny calls “setting yourself up for success”. I started with the smaller, more manageable debts and called each of them in turn as I saved up enough money. I would explain my situation over the phone, and ask if they would settle for half the amount owed. This would have been better done via certified letter, but I am not what is known as patience, so I cut straight through and called them.

The only people I liked were the ones who played "Songs in the Key of Life" on their hold music. I didn't even want to talk to them. "Put my back on hold! I love Stevie!"

Then there were the cards I owed on Big Time. I set up payment plans with them that were reasonable but steep – I had to pay them, though, and fast, to get my head above water. This last one I’m working on is an obscene amount for three months, but then I’ll have it over with.

There’s things you can do to save money, but sometimes you do have to splurge to remind yourself that you are young and fun and can travel places and see things. Even if it is in the off-season.

Keep an eye on your credit with reports from Equifax or Experian. Make sure these people are keeping up to date with accurate information on your creditors. It’s also a good feeling when you’ve knocked out a debt to look there to see it reflected on your credit report.

These are probably big-city-only tips: Take the bus instead of driving or taking cabs, or walk. If you need a shopping pick-me-up, go to a vintage shop or have a clothes swap with your friends. (We dump all our clothes in a pile, open a bottle of wine, and make everyone try on each other’s clothes.) Get NetFlix. Museums almost always have a half-price or free night. Support local movie theatres – they’re cheaper anyway. Make presents for your friends. Bring lunch. Bring a flask. (Not necessarily  to the same place.) Go to the library for books, DVDs, and weird CD's.

The only way I’ve gotten through this is to NOT take it too seriously. When I pay off my last cards, I’m throwing myself a big old party, and all yall come on out.

flight

While I've always loved to write, the inspiration for it comes and goes. Lately, I've been stuck with my fear that I am just not good enough to keep up with the books I read. Intimidated by that niggling feeling that I can't keep up with the bloggers I read. In a word, it's writer's block. Blech.

When I moved down from Portland to SF, I changed computers and lost a lot of data, and I thought several pieces of work were gone forever. I had Christian try to resuscitate my backup disk (ha!). No dice. Somehow, I found it on an old web server recently.  So - voila, you have it, my revising of a work-in- progress called "Flight." I welcome your open criticism.

I like the idea of using TypePad to display it though, with photos et cetera, so I will publish it over here.

seems I've been Daisy all along.

My mom sent me this article illustrating a bit more behind the love story of F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ginevra King, upon whom he based many female characters. Flighty and self-indulgent characters like Daisy Buchanan.

post script

In case you're still here for The Saga of The Purse, a play in three acts, here is the latest and greatest. I swear, I'm gonna take photos of it in different places, like the gnome in Amelie. 

Anyhow, FedEx delivered it....to the wrong building. SF kids, take note, never tell someone who is not from here the cross street, like, "We're at 4th and Brannan." Cos it makes no fucking sense to them.

So my package was gone, kaput, untraceable, delivered to some random person in some random apartment building. Signatures? We don't need those. The gal at FedEx was being particularly unhelpful, I was starting to lose it just a wee bit. And by a wee bit, I mean crying. Not cry-my-fake-eyelashes off crying, like at the party, but still. AUGH!

So with friends in tow, went back to the building. Yen ducked under the gate following a passing car, and snuck in the side, found my package and brought it out.

I'm burning some incense to the god of yuppie toys and also? burning the purse.

Here are the long-missing photos from New Year's...

OMG!!!!

someone found my bag! Some girl was all wasted, and they thought it was their drunk friend's bag! My stuff is coming home!

SQEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

best. news. ever.

I'd like to thank all my friends, once again, who helped me with my stuff, who offered help, and who gave me hugs and beat up thug dudes. I love yall. Sniff.

it's my burfday, get busy

My birthday is on Sunday. Yall come out to the Odeon on Saturday night. We are also supposed to grill out Sunday afternoon, but Dolores Park is flooded, so we shall see. You could gift me a Kitchenaid mixer, or a pony, instead.
 

My birthday has always been a little weird. I spent one, probably two, snowed in. I got a puppy who was my best friend for seven years. I spent one drinking my first legal shots at a bar. I spent one when my baby brother died. I spent last year's trimming a Christmas tree. I spent one at Dot's in Portland, shooting pool and talking smack with EJ. In other words, a solid mix of different activites, a whirl of different emotions. (ETA: my mom wrote to remind me that I had a birthday where two boys attending crashed their car, and we ended up with the fire department, rescue squad, and some unhurt but embarrassed dudes.)

I like the concept of birthdays, but the reality often seems a bit off-kilter. A day to celebrate the fact that you were born is a very sweet notion. In actuality, like New Year's and weddings, it always seems to be overhyped and someone ends up in tears or vomiting in the bathroom. Or both.

So damn the unrealistic expectations. I want to hear about your bestest birthday ever. How old were you? Did you play pin-the-tail-on-that-drunk-guy? Did you sing karaoke? Did you get Castle Greyskull? Did YOU get a pony?

here's to health. or boredom. whichever comes first.

After some careful introspection (read: an annoyingly bad photo of myself) I've decided to change my diet. Before you start - I know I am not fat, and perfect as I am, yadda yadda - this is different. This is about overall health. And maybe smaller pants, too, shut up.

I've started by giving up Diet Coke, which anyone who has ever worked with me before knows is both my vice and my saucy mistress. During software releases, I have been known to consume 4 a day. Calorie free and a quick perk-up? What could be better! However, anything with an ingredient list that long simply cannot be contributing to my health.

The second step is (ugh) giving up coffee. That means no more delicious pumpkin lattes. I'm replacing them with green tea, which no one will argue is a better option. Also? The caloric content of a latte is staggering.

<----no diet coke in here

Maile is on chocolate detail. She BOUGHT all that chocolate, so now she is in charge of not letting me sneak into the work pantry. A box of Whoppers is hard for me to ignore.

Lest you think this makes me staggeringly boring, there is no way on god's green earth I am giving up whiskey and white wine. I'm still human, and Southern to boot.

The crux of the issue is that I just returned from Europe, where I ate everything. Thanksgiving is coming, and I am cooking, which means I will also eat everything, because butternut squash and mushroom lasagne and potato leek soup are GOOD. Christmas is coming, which means my mother and I will eat and drink the entire state of Virginia. If I don't want to turn into Jabba the Hut, some self-control between now and then must be marshalled!

I like to exercise, don't get me wrong. I just find running (the cheapest way to get this done) to be sort of a drag. Frisbee, tennis, yoga, walking the dog, riding bikes, Dance Dance Revolution at the Metreon, all of these I can handle. However, it's going to take more than that as winter sets in to keep me up and going. Or all of them at once.

So the diet is in place. Swell. I'm really trying to re-learn what is and isn't good for me. There's a lot of options: FitDay will keep track of what you eat in the day, compare it to your lifestyle and exercise rate and then....I guess you're kinda compulsively writing stuff down instead of eating?

I'm not going on Atkins, so shut up. No. I will not live a life without both coffee AND toast. I will never give up butter.

So if you have any suggestions, success stories, or (especially) recipes for things that are both delicious and good for you, PLEASE help a sleepy, cranky sister out.

git a rope

I did have one adventure last weekend.

For starters: the motorcycle. Really, it would make a good starter bike for a teenager, something to put in the garage and learn the ins and outs of the bike. Take it apart, put it back together with five less pieces, and probably faster than when you started.

Yen parked his bike out by the beach while we were in Europe. The battery is dead, but that never matters in our neighborhood, cos we have hills. The beach? Not so hilly. 

So we drove out there (me muttering the whole time, I'm sick, I don't wanna drive all the way to the frickin' beach, yadda yadda) and he tried to get it started. The neighbors, all big burly dudes with pickups, looked on. 

 

 "Why dontcha tie a rope to the back of the car and start it that way?" one of them yelled.

"What?" Ian said.

"I've done it plenty of times, it works just fine. Tie it, tow it, don't go faster than 15 miles per hour, jump start it and away you go."

 

"Hey babe, we've got rope in the car. Let's do it!"

"What?" I said. 

Jason and Yen thought it was a great idea.

I thought it was the worst idea in the history of ideas. But I'm always game for trying something new, so I grudgingly agreed. Watching the boys (and believe you me, those two were BOYS, excited as could be) tie the rope up, I thought: "well, at least I'll be fine."

 

We actually _towed_ his bike with my little Ford for about 200 yards.  Everyone on  48th ave was very helpful.

 

It did start, for a little while. Around the block. And then it died again.

Any advice on buying a new bike?

November 10, 2004 in talking 'bout myself. again. | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack

still sick

the same cold that I had through most of Europe is still keeping me down, and I even cancelled the barbeque I had planned for yesterday, and I love a barbeque. I can feel sorry for myself on my own site, right? ok.

have ever you sneezed on your own glasses, like I did? totally gross.

Updated to add: my mom wrote in to say she was sorry that I wasn't feeling well. Aw. Don't yall worry, she can tell you, sleeping for 10 and 12 hours at a stretch is my idea of heaven. I went to bed at 8:30 last night. In fact, it's the good part of being sick, along with soup (thanks, baby!) and bad TV.

November 8, 2004 in talking 'bout myself. again. | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBack

no sleep til'

I haven't been sleeping well. I have never been a champion sleeper, but 3 - 5am wakefulness is not really working for me. I've cut down on caffiene, exercised more, and yoga before bed. BUt instead of sleeping, I'm blogging and organizing my iTunes.

Any hints for a more restful night?

September 14, 2004 in talking 'bout myself. again. | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBack

blondes have more fun.

you shall now pay me compliments on my cute hair.

August 23, 2004 in talking 'bout myself. again. | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

East Bay Adventure Day

Sunday, I am going to go get Thai Brunch at the Buddhist temple, then on to Laney Flea to buy some junk for the house. I need a chair for the newly rearranged living room and I'm craving to buy some trashy Mexican art. Jason and Adam are coming with.

wanna go?

August 20, 2004 in talking 'bout myself. again. | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack