Wednesday, October 30, 2002

Hee! in the spirit of "Which Painting are you?" type online quizzes, this one has got to be the funniest one I've seen, by far. Which Founding Father are you? I'm Thomas Paine! I am *so* Thomas Paine. :)

G., I feel like you'll get a big kick out of this one, but maybe that's just because 1776 was your first and favorite musical for a while there. (We're waiting for the egg. to. hatch.... hm hm hm hm hm, hm-hm... in this con-GRESSional IN-cu-BATor!) On, and I may have left you a voice mail message where I was leaving a message, thought I finished and tried to pick up call-waiting beep from Alissa, who couldn't hear me, so I was yelling, "Hello! HALLO! Alissa! I hear you! Can you hear me? HELLOOO!" (sort of imitating my Dad) and then I heard "Your message has been sent." Oops. Hee hee. Keep that one for posterity. Could have been worse, I guess. It could've been on my boss's voice mail or something.

Tuesday, October 29, 2002


Oh, Lordy. Tired, tired, tired.

I had an exhausting day in therapy today. It was a breakthrough in many ways, and I feel like a weight has come off in my ways. I also feel like I could sleep for a hundred years. I've actually had a fun schedule these past few days, getting to run all my "fun" errands like getting a plant to replace the poor aloe plant Fred devoured last week.

Tomorrow I'm shooting a construction project for a magazine for people who lay rubber coating on rooves. (Roofs? Why doesn't that look right?) Yup, not makin' that up. Still, I'm starting to charge more because I have more exposure and higher profile clients, so I can't complain. Nothing I do with my clothes on is going to pay as well for only hours hours of work. Tired. Ti-red.

Friday, October 25, 2002

This update on my Idiosyncratic Life is brought to you by the Voice of Doom, with additional funding provided by the "Why the Hell is this World so F*cked Up Such that So Many Bad Things Happen to Good People?" Foundation, in accordance with the Why God Why Institute.

As you can probably tell, I am not about to serve up a particularly happy entry. Sigh....

Manda's college roommate is not doing well, as in, "She has pneumonia; she could be rejecting her lungs; she needs a miracle, please."

The incumbent senator of Minnesota was killed in a plane crash directly in the coverage area of the newspaper that is most likely to hire me, just as soon as they get the flight plans to fly me out there coordinated, which will not happen now for a Very Long Time as they are going to be uber-busy covering spot news, going to state funerals, finding photos of the crew who also died, which means contacting families to submit recent photos and being all sad because they're doing awful news around the clock. Which not only means no financial independence or health coverage for me any time soon, but also- and this is really what's tragic- a really good person and his family died, AND we're pretty much only have about 11 shopping days left until we have a Republican congress, unchecked military spending and an unjust war which will throw us all into a spiralling recession. Great.

Also, two of the most loving, welcoming and inspiring people of the Lockerbie Project we've all been working on since 1999 died in a terrible car crash in the beginning of this week. The plan to even begin this project was inspired by the daughter in the family who is my age, as she talked so warmly about her hometown as a lively place of hope for her family. I spoke to her best friend this morning as I was ordering flowers from our London photo class, (she works in the flowershop) who says that Alison is holding up unbelievably well, her brother not so much, but that their extended family has been hugely helpful, and she and her brother are going away to the Lake District for the weekend to be together and collect their thoughts. I declare a moritorium on all sadness for the people of Dumfreisshire, Scotland. No one in that entire county is allowed to experience any more traedy. No more diseases plaguing the cattle, no more acts of terrorism, no more car crashes or fires or problems of any kind, please. They've had their quota, in my opinion, and I wish I weren't so helpless to stop it all.

Things for me are fine, really. I'm Stupid Busy. Lots of people at the Hiami Merald are on vacation or out sick so I've been working like a madwoman, sometimes double shifts, which is good, I guess, but I also did a wedding type thing last weekend, and tomorrow I'm covering an event for an organization that asked if I was free, and I said yes, which is true, but I gave them an exorbitant price so I wouldn't have to do it, but they agreed to pay it, so now I really have to work as I told them I was free and I shouldn't pass up this money, but I've had only 2 1/2 days off total in the last three weeks, and I'm soooo tired. I want to run with my dog on the beach and sleep late and finish these art portolfios for a gallery submission and .... (yawn) on the CD-ROM template I'm undertaking and.... and..... (zzzzzzzzzzz)

WHA- What happened? Okay, I'm awake. Rah.

Can you tell I'm in a bad mood? I'm in a bad mood. All these reporters with their wrong directions and incomplete photo requests and impossible demands (Can you photoshop these photos of this new cell phone with this LCD screen? Oh, did you shoot that really complicated, hard to light, last minute, pain in the @ss, forgot to put in a photo request, need it five minutes ago thing yet? Because I forgot to give you this importnat accessory that needs to be in the shot. Oh, and can you hurry? Thanks.) I shouldn't be whining about this when other people I Iove are dealing with much, much more painful things, and there's nothing I can do about it.

That's really what I'm upset about anyway.

Monday, October 21, 2002

Oh, for Pete's sake. I just made big changes and now blogger is having issues.... Those new gerunds had better be SOMEWHERE....
Oh, wait! Wait! What’s that smell? It’s- It’s my pants burning!!! I am a liar, liar, pants on fire. Sorry. When I wrote that, I thought I had a press conference and then three hours to kill before the end of the work day, but then they asked me to work a double, and then some stories broke, and....

Such is the tale of the Self-Employed Blogger. Sorry about that. But today is Blog Catch Up Day! Hurrah! I have birthday messages to do, which may get long, so I will just give this quick anecdote about Hysterical White Girl in Miami: I parked what I thought was two blocks from an important press conference (the catholic priests thing, actually), but it turned out I was a fifteen minute walk away, which I didn’t realize until I had already walked for ten minutes, which was going to make me *really* late so I implored these very nice house painters (all in Spanish) to drive me to the archbishop’s pastoral center. They did it, too, bless them.

It is so hot here. Yuck,

Oh, and the 18th was Irony Day, which I decided since I heard that Alanis Morissette song on the radio. I called Gwen at work to tell her, but I never told anyone else, which means no one else celebrated it, even after it was declared a holiday, which is ironic and therefore the perfect way to recognize Irony Day.

Today, however, is my Menses Commencement Day, so hooray for that. I’m gonna bang these messages out, walk the dog and hit the hay.

Oh, and I may be interviewing for a job in Duluth. I know.

Okay, I owe some very amazing people their birthday messages, so here we go, in the order they should have appeared-

September 27th-
Happy Birthday to the Person Who...
•Became my best friend the moment she lowered her sunglasses in amazement when I said something really, really shocking to a certain chemistry teacher/color guard instructor/ McDonaldland Character ten years ago.
•Who, when I have a good angel/devil sitting on each shoulder, is always the “devil.”
•Who, to this day, can get nine rounds of “There’s a skeeter on my peter, whack it off” stuck in my head, just by mentioning the words, “Manheim Farm Parade.”
•Who has dropped me off and/or picked me up at the airport before and/or after every major trip overseas. There is nothing like coming home to your smiling face and loving hugs!
•Who reads “Playboy” for the articles. Really.
•Who used to drive, and in fact, replaced the brakes practically by herself, on a truck named “Ronald Mark Karen”
•Who went on an actual archeological dig and knows about different kinds of “flakes” from tool making people living during the Stone Age
•Who went to the hospital and sat with my mom for hours when my dad was sick, and I couldn’t get home from Syracuse.
• Who made me laugh so hard in a yoga class that I wet myself
• Who keeps her head, even when she is in the same room as an “anthrax letter” was opened in October 2001.
• Who, as the original Crazy Dog Lady, enables and embraces my Crazy Animal Lady-ness
• Who brings Lysol to every hotel room ever
•Who knows the Isaac’s sandwich menu better than I do, which is amazing
• Who bought me a beautiful necklace so I could have something beautiful with no connection to any boyfriends, then told me, rightly, never to wear it in the shower.
•Who talked to me sometimes four times a day for four months when I was so sick
• Who is the originator of “mach schnell” phone calls
•Who hates when people fart on her, which, unfortunately, happens a lot.
• Who became the first “straight” (har dee har) president of Allies
• Who learned to quilt, even though it sometimes meant she had to hang out with old ladies who only believe in showering once a week
• Who gives a whole new flare to the word “dammit”
•Who knows where to get the “good” whoopie pies at Roots
•Who is always up for a spin in the “hammock”
•Who doesn’t believe in selling out (and hasn’t)
• Who earned a full ride to F & M
• Who is courageous enough to pick a path, try it, admit it sucks, back track, pick a new path and throw herself into her new goals and dreams
Happy Birthday, Kelly! :)

October 1st
Happy Birthday to the Person Who:
• Ripped my heart out in 1995 and stomped that f*cker flat
• Who was my first love
• Who swears he only remembers one Billy Joel concert, (in my sophomore year of college)
• Who, after seven years, can still finish my sentences
• Who didn’t body surf in a once-in-a-lifetime mosh pit, because I would have been crushed to death on my own
• Who smelted his own screws in grad school for a robot that he had to build entirely from scratch, and didn’t give up when the legs moved out of sync and it limped around like a partially squashed bug
• Who IS gonna finish that dissertation, dammit
•Married the Right Girl, one of the most intelligent women I have ever met in my life, who is able to teach him about the choices one makes for true love
• Who is one of the most patient, forgiving and devoted friends I’ve ever had
Happy Birthday, Jon.

October 16th
Happy Birthday to the Person Who:
• Is like my older brother
• Who I have always hero worshipped like an older brother
• Who has a treasured “bobble head” Redskins doll
• Who played 50,000 Rummy in the rainiest summer in E. Pete Pool history
• Who loves Halloween as much as I do, for the exact same reasons I do.
• Who taught me about coping with fear with grace when someone you love is in pain, real physical pain that you can’t do anything about
• Who made me take a “Wagon License” test and shoved me down a big hill in a Radio Flyer with a giant box of Tom Watt Boy Scout fund-raiser stuff (total net worth, probably about $19.95) and then came hurrying down the hill after I wiped out to make sure that the swan candle wasn’t broken.
• Who knows when the Pet of the Week “really, really looks like our family’s new dog,” then went the pound and brings her home for his parents to raise.
• Who never tired of watching Goonies or the Bride of Mr. Bogety in the summer of ‘87.
• Who thought it was great fun to toss pennies out of his open window into the neighbor’s pool with me
• Who always dreamed of para-sailing, and then we did it, as Tom Petty’s “Freefallin’” played on the radio.
• Who, as student council president in charge of such things, didn’t realize you would actually need an oven to cook three hundred frozen pizzas at the Homecoming carnival
• Who embodies the old axiom, “When you fall, get right back up” in a way that the person who coined that phrase could never even fathom.
• Who hates olives
• Who passed the Bar last week! RAAH! Makes all those years of playing “court” with our siblings worth it...
Happy Birthday, Brad!

October 17th
Happy Birthday to the Person Who:
• Became a treasured friend, soon to be my best friend, when I caused an elderly lady named Edna to panic at a sing-a-long in a nursing home
•Who, when I have a good angel/devil sitting on each shoulder, is always the “angel.”
• Who can be brought to tears of laughter by a Keebler’s elves’ commercial jingle from 1990- “Cinnamon crispana! (la la la-la) Cheesy Quesadilla! (la la la-la) Fun and crispy Chaaaaaaaaachos!” (It's the word "Chachos" that does it)
• Who fully approved when I lit my final evaluation from @(ss) P on fire and shoved it down the garbage disposal without reading it.
• Who was really, really good at African dance.
• Who is instrumental in creating nicknames that stick with people for the rest of their lives- Wetzel, Craigbert, Unkey Jason, BANG, Megret
• Who hosted me at Seders for like, the last billion years
• Who gave us “yaks” for Christmas last year (Love it! Love the gift! Stop worrying!)
• Who gave me a photo of Everyone’s Ex-Boyfriend at Band Fun Night ‘92 with the words, “Do not obsess!” written on the back of it. Heh.
• Who ran a virtual “bed and breakfast” in DC for 2 years, so many good memories
• Who introduces the best games- Set, Cranium, The Perfect Man Except...”- and well, I don’t know if the Love Game is really a “best game,” but we sure played it a lot.
• Who ran down a street away from a mortally ill (and possibly rabid) possum with me
• Who learned all the words to the Wedding Story theme song when we spent an entire Spring Break watching TV at Wesleyan.
• Who is almost wholly responsible for my taste in music, except for the musicians that Liss introduced me to, and the weird country music thing, which I stumbled onto on my own, which no one, including me, is happy about.
• Who loves gifts you stumble on unexpectedly and make you laugh out loud, like 64 oz mugs from Turkey Hill and hamsters with numchucks(Sp?)
• Who talked to me every day when I was so sick, insisting that “you sound much better than you did a week ago, you honestly do” when I couldn’t have recognized recovery if it bit me in the ass.
• Who wrote me a letter from Israel (containing salt from the Dead Sea) about kosher cheese substitutes at McDonald’s while she was watching Michelle Kwan skate to Tori Amos' sond "Winter" on Israeli TV
• Who hates bugs
• Who taught me how to knit
• Who is an amazing role model for young women, whom she teaches how to play the oboe and why the word “gay” isn’t an insult, while loving them as much as they love her.
• Who didn't mind when Stephen and I coincidentally showed up where she was on a date, even when we started pretending to be mummers.
• Who works at a newspaper, too, and knows just how long a day it’s going to be when the editors start ordering pizza for everybody
• Whose writing is amazing, who will be an author, complete with book signings and book tours and best seller lists!
Happy Birthday, Gwen!

I'll update Gerunds tomorrow (which probably means before 2003, I hope)

Friday, October 18, 2002

Okay! And we're back! Today, TODAY, I promise, I am updating this blog- Birthday messages to four important people, (sorry, sorry- not my fault everyone's parents conceived in the beginning of January 1977 :), all new gerunds, an update on the latest Not-My-Cat living on the porch, (who may have run away, actually, but at least he's neutered now), funny stories from the life of Hysterical White Girl in Miami... it's all coming today. I swear.

But right now I gotta go to a press conference with the Archbishop of Miami whose gonna tell us, in three languages, how he unconditionally supports the Pope's decision not to punish sex offenders and how he disagrees with the U.S. Bishops Sex Abuse Policies. Greaaaat. I'm gonna LOVE that!

Sunday, October 13, 2002


Three people died today at the Regatta. They were really drunk, and they drove their boat into a tree. (Yes, there are trees that grow out of salt water. They're called mangroves. Who knew?) Sigh...

I don't *want* to become jaded. Yesterday, I didn't *want* to write that I bet people will die, because the sh!t I saw happening was so crazy. I didn't want to be right. I don't like Angie the Pessimist and her more-sinister companion Conspiracy Theorist Angie. And I don't like that the way everyone else in the newsroom looks at stuff like this- They shrug and say, "The atuopsy report says they were three times drunker than the legal limit. What idiots."- is starting to sound about right to me.

Saturday, October 12, 2002

Today was a really great day. Wow.

I shot the Columbus Day Regatta here in Biscayne Bay off the coast of Miami. It was amaaaaazing (a la Laurie in Trading Spaces after seeing homeowners' homework completed in the a.m. of Day 2, as in, "Y'all, this room looks amaaaaazing.") All these huge sailboats with brightly colored sails billowing out in front coming straight toward us. (Oh, and Scott? You're right, now that I have seen multi-sailed ships heading toward me, I can't deny it. One-Eyed Willy's boat in Goonies *is* heading out to sea, *not* toward the shore to bring the kids and their families and Sloth all that "rich stuff." Oh, well....)

Anyway, the Regatta was incredible. I was on the "press boat"- two men from the yacht club took me and the reporter wherever we wanted to go. They were so nice. The guys were on the Race Committee, so we were their "volunteer work" for the event. They took us around on the one man's private boat, complete with kitchen and sleeping quarters and TV and airconditioning, although we didn't use any of that stuff. The owner kept talking about how much smaller this boat is than his previous boats (I almost snarfed my bottled water- did I mention they had tons of bottles of water and coke (soda, not drugs) in the boat's handy little built-in automatic icemaker/cooler?- when he said it.)

We got to speed around to all the check points and the finish line, lots of fast, "feel like you're flying" type boating going on. V. Fun.

Seeing all those huge sails coming straight toward us was awe-inspiring, it really was. I could just barely imagine how soldiers in the navy for countries such as France, et al, felt when they saw the Spanish Armada advancing on them. Run away!!! RUN AWAY!!! :)

The big thing about the regatta, though, is that thousands of people join the racers for a night of "comraderie on the sea." In theory, this is the time that the "waterfront community"comes together- it's supposed to be participants in the race and boating enthusiasts. Yeah, no. Pretty much anyone with anything that floats is having what the reporter called "Mardi Gras on Water-" Beads, nudity (LOTS of nudity- it was actually hard to make a picture out there without a topless woman or man going completely starkers) and debauchery in general.

It's supposed to be a lot like Carnaval in S. America- people throwing water balloons and hitting each other with spray from water cannons. I have a shot of some women (in bikinis) getting hit with a lot of water, shouting in surprise as they get soaked by people in another boat. My editor actually used the phrase "You're gonna want to dodge and burn some of the spray there to uh..... take care of the, um, 'crotch issue.'" Never heard *that* one from a picture editor before. :) The woman was wearing a bikini; it wasn't that bad, but still... Hmmm..... ;)

Apparently, things will get crazier tonight as more and more people get drunk. People swim from one boat to another (including the reporter and I- me with my underwater Reef Life point and point; although the photo of Hannahbelle [sic] swimming with her notebook in a plastic bag was pretty classic) but in years past, crazy drunk people have accidentally run over swimmers with their motorboats. Bad new bear..

Of course, no Blog Entry would be complete without me marvelling about an aspect of La Vida Loca in Miami, so here you have it. The writers tell me the big thing to do in the anchorage (I learned a new word! It's where all the boats park out on the open water. I always thought it was just a city in Alaska. Makes sense to me, though, what with there being a lot of boat near Alaska. Did everyone else already know this? Is this like the time I realized in the last ten minutes of Austin Powers that Mike Myers is playing both Austin AND Dr. Evil, and everyone else knew all along?) is to fire off emergency flares and/or illegal fireworks, but there are thousands of boats all packed in for miles and other people's boats catch on fire. A few years ago, the Coast Guard had to airlift a women with third degree burns out of there, and the wake from the Coast Guard ship (large enough for a launch pad) and the helicopter nearly capsized people in small boats. I don't know....

As for me, I'm done for the night; I had a fabulous day shooting, and I hope nothing like that happens this year. :)

I will say this, though. Miami is called "the Magic City." I gotta say, I am really beginning to like Miami. A lot. Despite all the bad stuff around me, that has happened to me, and so on. I mean it; I really like Miami. That is no small feat. Seriously, that's magical.

Thursday, October 10, 2002

Hmmm.... I just realized that the entry below about my dreams sounds more psycho than funny, like when SARK stopped talking about succulence and being a survivor and starting to describe her "inner children" in creepily explicit and terrifyingly skizophrenic detail.

Yikes. Sorry about that. I am fine. I am spending too much time napping and being by myself, but I am fine. :)
Oh, my. Am sleeping long, erratic hours...I just slept from some time when it was still light outside until 11 p.m.

My cat and dog are totally enabling this uncontrolled napping. Fred not longer wants to be cuddled as he did when he was very small. He will lay in a sleepy circle on the floor, and if you reach out to pet him, he will instantly begin purring, allow you to pet him no more than three times, jump up, playfully (and mostly painlessly) bite you, and lay down somewhere else.

But if you read a book or take a nap, he will wait until you are completely engrossed or in REM sleep, then curl up under your arms or behind your knees, (depending on where Bella has hunkered down, if she is behind knees, then Fred goes for in your arms, and vice versa) so that anytime I am horizontal, I am graced with the comforting presence of a sleepy dog and purring cat. This makes not moving, continuing to read, and then nap with no real time I need to wake up, almost completely irresistible.

On the other hand, I keep having bad dreams that make me not want to sleep. I keep dreaming that I am pregnant and need to have an engagement ring before nurses will let me leave hospital with unknown and unseen child. Sometimes this dream ends with my trying to shop for post-baby clothes in Victoria's Secret style post-maternity shop called X where Christie Brinkley is the saleswoman who keeps showing me cute clothes, but only in size four, which is defintely not my size anyway, let alone my subconscious post-pregnancy weight in the dream. Rosie O'Donnell keeps showing up in this dream, as does her partner. All three of us are in labor with three separate babies.

I also keep dreaming that I am stuck in assassin-style shoot-out with Katie Holmes in a WB sitcom, and that Sarah Michelle Gellar wants me to load my gun with Detrol, a medication I am currently taking for bad things that happen when I laugh too hard, as it is the only way to kill Katie Holmes. In this sitcom, I stop at Isaac's, which is open until midnight, where I order a Phoenix on a pretzel (favorite sandwich there) and flirt with the cute deli guy who later climbs into a shower with me, although he turns out to be only four feet tall, which kills the mood, which is how the censors avoid showing sex on WB sitcom.

No more dreaming, please. I read Alissa's page today and IMed her about her entry about weird dreams, which may have somehow kicked off weird dreaming jag during marathon nap whenever I fell asleep this afternoon/evening until 11 p.m.

Now I have talked on the phone for two hours to people I love, one person who is also going to the class reunion, who is supposed to be figuring out the correct meaning and context of art history terms in German, all of which, directly translated, mean "germanartlighttechnique" or some such thing, and the other person who also misses me, also thinks this week's edition of The Onion is very funny, also has no money with which to come see me and also wishes we could have sex tonight. (Hallo, Becky and Stephen! In that order, v. important.)

Must finish new portfolios. Must not grocery shop, must eat ramen in cupboard and not order Chinese take-out with twelve dollar minimum for delivery. Must be patient, because when the Merald needs help next, it will probably turn into twelve nonstop days of long hours as asst editor is having surgery and things will be v. busy. Must be productive in non "working for money" days and finish wedding samples, portfolios and brochures.

Must. Not. Nap. and give self "Jennie Dikks" (sic) style Chronic Fatigue Disorder. Must eat soup and keep working. It's 1:30 a.m. Do you know where your subconscious infant is?

Monday, October 07, 2002

Love, love, LOVE the Downy Ball! And the new stackable washer/dryer combo in my apartment; no more schlepping seven loads of laundry worn so long ago that I forgot I even *had* fun, pink-yellow-orange striped underwear purchased at 75% off at Victoria's Secret big "bra sale." (Why is it called the bra sale if everything is on sale? If I only ever buy [more] fun pj's and cotton underwear, can I still call it the "bra sale?")

MMM... Day off with no real agenda... Must update portfolio CDs... Must stop watching Road Rules marathon and taking naps. Although I did pay bills while watch crappy MTV show, so that completely counteracts Lazy Fun Nap Factor, right? Yeah, no...

I also had a therapy appointment, got last few supplies for new round of job app packets, ran dishwasher. If I go buy decorative sand at Pier One and get dog treats at Petsmart and go to Barnes and Noble, but ONLY for therapy homework reading, that's still being productive, right? Riiiight.

Oof-ah. I think I need to Mach Schnell myself....
Hallo, Readers in Blogland!

Just had a whirlwind weekend with my mom in Miami. We had a good time, and it was fun to show someone I love all some of the fun places here. I give my mom a lot of credit for mastering the video camera we gave my dad two years ago. There is a very um, interesting? (I use that word loosely) video of my funny pets, my apartment, my friends Miguel and Alejandra (who just started middle school, the only friends I had over the summer :), my walking the dog with the cat in his little carrier cat backpack, and an interesting sequence of me simultaneously capturing a lizard in my living room and trying to (unsuccessfully) convince my mother that lizards do, in fact, have the ability to run up vertical walls at 1:30 a.m. yesterday morning.

In other news, I bought a Downy ball. That's it. More tomorrow! Have a good week!

Thursday, October 03, 2002

Mmmm... I just woke up from a deep, deep sleep. I slept like it was my job, as I worked 8 days without a break. Which is good, but mmmmm....sleep.... in my bed....

Bed. Bed-bed-bed.

My mom is coming to visit for a long weekend. I am excited to have someone I knew before I moved here come visit and meet Fred, as opposed to getting phone calls from him as he bats my cell phone around under the bed at 3 a.m. or being the recipient of lots of unsolicited pictures of my pets.

Fred. Fred-Fred-Fred.

It will be good to see my mom, though, too. Right? Right.

Tuesday, October 01, 2002

I just. want. an Invisible Force Field to surround my car. All the Time.


Birthday message to Kel, albeit belated, coming soon... :)

And, all of you, stay away from pickup trucks with bumper stickers that say "Women love me; Fish fear me."