Celebrity, etc.

Today I sold a turkey to Diana Ross.

Faye Dunaway asked me for the time.

Yesterday, I observed Kirsten Dunst to eat a chocolate from the bulk bins. Stealing a chocolate. In pink converse.

And finally, last week I saw Leonardo Di Caprio, who departed Whole Foods in a large BMW. Not a hybrid. Fraud.

In conclusion, I miss truly crappy weather.

Funnestness

Alt+Clicking at the New York Times Website.

Tips
To find reference information about the words used in this article, hold down the ALT key and click on any word, phrase or name. A new window will open with a dictionary definition or encyclopedia entry.

This is awesome. I want the whole world to be like that.

Christmas shopping, joyous new finds

Etsy is my new obsession. For those unfamiliar, it is a virtual bazaar of all things wondrous and handmade (and bargainful!). I purchased a most beautiful umbrella print, and am eagerly scouring the site around the clock for presents.
I can not begin to tell of my excitement in finding such treasures as a burnt Patti Hearse lamp, or perhaps a Derrida onesie. Look for yourselves, and, crafty friends, sell your wares!

Nasi Bungkus

Bill and I sampled Indonesian cuisine at our local Indo Cafe. It was supremely delicious, and I ate something called Nasi Bungkus. Unfortunately, I learned that Nasi Bungkus basically means wrapped rice, which so totally does not describe what I ate today.
Bill and I were also complimented on our spicy-eating, which of course, made us feel totally special.
Anyway, here is a picture of Nasi Bungkus. It is insanely cute, even if the name is pretty vulgar.

longing?

i don't know if it's because of lack of fun in my daily life, but for some reason, i am driven mad with longing for a Nintendo Wii. I just know that I have to have it.

New Experiences, bad.

For the first time in my life, I live below someone. Someone who apparently has some sort of incredibly loud menagerie, with things like stampeding antelopes and perhaps a handful of elephants. They are new to my building, and I miss the old, silent, above-me residents.
I think they now have chimpanzees jumping on some sort of trampoline. I can't be sure, but it's mighty loud.
One of the words that greatly pleases me is "misspellings." Blogger assures me that I have none.

For some reason, Bill has held off on posting on my eminent greatness as a girlfriend. I baked cinnamon bread yesterday, and, if I do say so myself, it tastes and looks just like real cinnamon bread. And, at the estimated cost of about $.50 a loaf, definitely trumps the cost of purchasing speciality bread at the grocery store. However, it is messy, and cleaning is Bill's job. Perhaps this is why he is not singing my praises to the moon or whatever.

Yes, my new hobby on my days off is "baking." It's not my preferred day off activity, as it's not as fun as drinking, shopping, etc, but it is more productive. And sadly, I have yet to acquire any friends in Los Angeles of the girl-persuasion, whom, let's be honest, are vastly preferable to friends of the heterogametic sex. Possibly this is the first time I have used the word heterogametic. I will continue to do so.

one of the things...

People from Los Angeles (by this I mean those that feel some sense of ownership in this bizarre city--which basically means anyone who has lived here longer than me) like to do this crazy bait and switch thing, where they ask you about your celebrity sightings and the joy you must take in their proximity, and then, when you express any interest at all in continuing the conversation, announce their total indifference to celebrity while recounting their own Julia Roberts sighting at Starbucks that very morning.

Of course, since virtually all of my readership lives outside of Los Angeles, I will now talk about all the celebrities I have thus far seen.

1. Guy who plays Uncle Vic on Queer as Folk.
2. Ed Begley, Jr (see a few posts ago).
   
3. Less-hot Doctor on Nip/Tuck (hotter than expected, to be sure).
4. Emily the crazy one on 90210 for one season (Christine Elise is her real name).
5. Thora Birch (on the red carpet at the AFI Film Festival).
6. Debbie Mazur (also at AFI).
7. Guy who plays John Abruzzi on Prison Break (in track pants, cheap slip-on sandals with socks, and a "Superlative Conspiracy" t-shirt). We had a passing-the-time at the check-out line conversation. I am glad that I did not make a joke about Whole Foods superlative turkeys, as I see now that Superlative Conspiracy is merely a brand.
   

In any case, I've just passed the two-month point with life in LA. So this is where I stand. The only celebrities I have recognized without assistance have been Emily from 90210 and Uncle Vic. I need to work on sharpening my eyes.

Progress

I made bagels. I'm not generally a baker, and I've never journeyed into the world of yeast, so this is a pretty big deal for me. They taste good, but don't look so pretty. I'll try again another day. They are topped with chives (from my garden), garlic, and pecorino.
Here they are:

Yes!

Congress is like, totally the Democrats' oyster. I hope they eat it raw.

Montana, cool now?

How flipping rad is it that Montana elected a musician/organic farmer to Senate?

I mean, sure, it will be like, slightly hilarious when Tester shows up for the first day with a banjo and buckwheat, but will be so much cooler than the guys who show up in sport coats and playing-it-safe Cole Haans.

It's about time you claimed your excessively large state as the kingdom of hipdom--after all, your ladies have been tucking their jeans into their boots for decades. So, Montana-- the new Vermont?

As expected, oblivious.

Today, I met my first celebrity.
As a part of my new position as "Marketing Assistant" at Whole Foods, I had the opportunity to attend a product expo, where I sampled about a million different organic products. Not only did I get a recycled wood fiber toothbrush, and a variety of new age beverages, and a whole half-pound of the divine La Tur cheese to take home, I also responded with dubious ambiguity to a celebrity's offer to demo his product in my store. To be fair, my dubiousness had nothing to do with the celebrity (whom I didn't recognize), or the product, merely my unwillingness to make a commitment as I am new to my position.

So anyway, I came home with my assortment of goodies (including some truly disgusting quinoa cookies that Bill liked, in a radical departure from his typical "more fat the better" mentality) and pointed out that the maker of "Begley's Best" looked familiar. Bill said that the name Ed Begley was familiar, so I did the whole Wikipedia thing, and alas, Ed Begley, Jr.

All the more ridiculous in my inability to recognize Mr. Begley is the fact that I have seen him in literally dozens of different shows. From Happy Days to Arrested Development, Six Feet Under to Seventh Heaven (yes, I occasionally...), Best in Show to The Smurfs, Ed Begley has been a part of my life for the past 25 years.

So, I'm sorry, Mr. Begley. Your product seems outstanding, and you were totally down-to-earth when you were offering to come to my store. I should have recognized you, and thus avoided speaking with you. And I loved you in This is Spinal Tap.

Last Meals

So, prompted by some last-season Prison Break watching, I have been pondering the concept of one's last meal. It appears that the state of Texas used to post the last meals requested by their death row inmates online. The list can be found here. Fascinating stuff, really. The list consists of primarily hamburgers, fried chicken, and steak. Specific soda requests are common, as are ice creams.

Of course, this all makes me wonder about my own last meal. The death row inmates don't pay much regard to menu planning: pizza with stir-fried beef, chocolate cake, ice cream, broccoli, grapes, 10 quesadillas and more (Jessy San Miguel, executed in 2000).

On one hand, I'd be tempted to request pad thai, chicken paneng, Papa John's hand-tossed with pineapple, chocolate mint ice cream with york peppermint patty mixed-in, vegetable samosas, chevre cheese, nectarines and Coca-Cola. I think the above constitutes a fair representation of my favorite foods, but, for a last meal? I mean, would gorging myself on all my favored flavors give me the requisite level of satisfaction, or would I be better served by creating a real meal?

Ahh! It's an absolute nightmare. I am giving myself a headache planning my theoretical last meal.

I suspect I would enjoy an exquisitely executed (ha! puns!) last meal, but how could I turn my back on goat's cheese, or pad thai? I'm afraid I could never decide. Thus, I would end up with a massive stomach ache before my extermination, OR, the better alternative: I am never executed.

$10, 3-hour haircut

yeah, i'm pretty excited about it. whoo hoo vidal sassoon academy.

messages

So, my birth control comes with a label saying that I should not take it if I am trying to become pregnant. This is the first time I think I have gotten this particular pharmacy sticker. I wonder if the pharmacist thought that this would be an amusing addition to the "take with modest meal," "some antibiotics may lessen the effect..." and "may turn your urine funny colors," or if someone has really deemed this message necessary. I suspect it's the latter.

In other strange-message news, I am currently temping and the previous non-temp version of me was given the axe. She has two little epigrams jotted on a notepad: "You can't fail if you don't give up!" and "Never trust anyone!" Hmm.

suckas...

While the rest of you fools will be voting at libraries, schools, and other unspecial places fitting of your dull, non-Los Angeleno lives, I will be voting at the Culver Hotel.

That's right. My polling place was once owned by John Wayne, and housed the Munchkins during the filming of the Wizard of Oz.

Ha. Ha.

$5.50 and the poorer for it.

Why, why, did I spend $5.50 to send a fax, only to end up with some creepy guy claiming to be a lawyer calling me on my daytime minutes?

Why don't I know how to send a fax, free, through my computer? Surely this must be possible...

Why didn't I check the number on the confirmation?

Now, I must do one, or perhaps a combination, of the following things:

• Temp tomorrow, and try to hop on their fax machine, violating my temping rules on the very first day of employment.
  
• Wait until Saturday when I will be able to go to mom & pop print shop (they have, of course, mom & pop hours), and get my $5.50 back.
• Find some other place tonight to send a fax from... like, the grocery store? Kinkos is not close and they are mean anyway. Where does one send a fax from, if not the mom & pop print shop on the corner?
• Drive fax to location--not close, but equidistant to the Kinkos.
  
• Abandon fax entirely and not write freelance articles for toy magazine that didn't offer me a real job.
• Demand cookies from friends not located within the Pacific Time Zone.

Disaster!

One sad thing has happened since our Los Angeles arrival (actually, more than one--but I'm not counting parking tickets).

Bill and I accidentally bought the orange-flavored toothpaste. In bulk. We have 6 tubes of Aquafresh Orange toothpaste. It's like brushing your teeth, then drinking orange juice. And we'll be doing it for the next year.

Friends & Countrymen...

I have returned from a monopoly-imposed hiatus. After much battle with TimeWarner, I am now restored to home internet life.

I just ate tamales from my local farmer's market, have an herb garden on my balcony, and had an interview for my dream job last week. Things are looking pretty good, though my mouth is burning from my tamale consumption.

You may now consider California Ruth open for business.

my weather is better than yours.

Well, Bill and I are no longer homeless. That is pleasant. We have an apartment now, which is filled with mostly good things and too-tall cabinets. Otherwise, happiness and joy.

We have a good location, close to many restaurants, etc. Also close to 'the studios.' I haven't seen any celebrities yet, but I have seen more cars worth over $100K than I have in my whole entire life. It seems probable that famous people drive them, but that may be my midwestern naïveté talking.

So, these are all good things. Bad things include the fact that I will likely still be unemployed upon turning 25. However, last year I turned 24 unemployed and living at home, so this year is somewhat of an improvement.

at 4:59 am

So, last night I woke up to Bill beating me. In his sleep.

No, we aren't talking about the rolling-over, arms-splayed type-beating (that's more my m.o.).

What happened was this:

I am asleep. On my stomach.

I wake up. Bill is straddling my back.

He hits me, and says "there's someone in the room."

I am freaked out. My semi-aunt, with whom we are staying, does not really lock doors, and our ground-floor window is wide-open.

It becomes apparent to me that Bill is still asleep. I say, "do you want to shut the window?" He grunts, un-straddles me, and goes back to sleep, while I squint, contact-less, at shadows.

My list of demands.

• A High-Paying Job
• Caveat: must be fun, not-evil, be loaded with vacation-time, and otherwise promote self-development.
  
• An Apartment
• Caveat: must meet numerous hard-to-find requirements, and have no problem with renting to the unemployed. Also, must cost no more than 4x my apartment in Kansas City.

Los Angeles

Um, I guess I live here now. It seems nice. I'll let you know more later.

oh, sigh.

oh, kansas city, i miss you already and i'm still here for another 11 hours.

sigh. it's like high school or college graduation all over again, all uncertainty etc.

oh well. california, here i come.

Bands that make me exceedingly angry on cranky Tuesday mornings.

1) Oasis
2) Nada Surf
3) Archers of Loaf

This list will no doubt only grow as I continue to do menial tasks while listening to what appears to be the worst of the 90s flashback hour on preferred radio station at work KEXP. Incidentally, my music collection has a strong bias towards the 90s, so I am not opposed to the decade by any means.

cool tricks my brother taught me

Uh oh, boyfriend, watch out.

I just learned that pre-teen crush Jose Canseco is now playing minor league baseball in Long Beach. I admit that I find the current version of Jose far less attractive, and steroids are probably the least sexy of all drugs. You are probably safe, boyfriend. But, I must say, I didn't even know you were alive in 1988, and I sure can't say the same for Mr. MVP.

2 weeks 2 days

Until Bill and I begin our great trek westward. Ahoy.

I purchased luggage online over the weekend. I thought it was lame when others received luggage for graduation, holidays, etc from aged relatives. Now I realize that it was not lame, only cheaper than buying it yourself.

Tell me, is there anything more gratifying than clicking "track shipment" a thousand times a day? My luggage has begun its journey in The City of Industry, CA, an (industrial) suburb of Los Angeles, which is, incidentally, where my credit card bills go. So, basically, it was like shopping at a neighborhood store.

The Roommate Tells All: Part 1--Breakfast

I read a magazine article that had advice on what to do if your roommate blogs about what you eat for breakfast. I will now blog about what my roommates eat for breakfast, and see if my roommates know what to do.

Bill: Bill seems only willing to eat bananas, bagels, green apples, and left-over pizza. This means that sometimes he eats no breakfast. I don't understand it.
Julie: Julie primarily eats cereal and whatever fruit is in the bowl. Sometimes, however, I catch her putting a variety of random food items on bread, toasted or otherwise, but never in a sandwich-like assemblage. I have seen her put honey, bananas, peanut butter, aldi- brand nutella, eggs, cheese, lunch meat, and imitation butter products in all sorts of incredibly odd combinations.

Phrase that makes my nose wrinkle: fruit cup.

Pitchfork presents... testosterone!

So, this past weekend Bill & I ventured to Chicago for Pitchfork Music Festival. My first music festival, so that was an exciting landmark.
I think though, that I won't go to one of those again. I am pretty sure grass and sunshine is not the ideal venue for indie rock.
And, seriously, what the hell was the deal with the 41 bands and like, 10 girls total in any of these groups? Lame lame lame!!! No more guitars for boys, and especially no more microphones. No offense, but it gets old.
Otherwise, lots of Chicago fun-ness and friend-seeing. And, can't object to the pitchfork-people-watching and laying about.
In other news, my Knox alumni status has finally begun returning on my investment: I saved $14 this weekend thanks to Knox alums with jobs. That is damn near 0.00012% of my capital outlay, not including interest. Also, I have no idea if that is the proper use of the term 'capital outlay.'

where i work.

I took some pictures of my work. My office is depressing. My mailman I think has a terminal illness. And yesterday, I saw my very first white supremicist in the flesh. Ugly & scary, two of my least favorite things.

MY WORK		By:Yours Truly

the only person i have seen all day is the mailman

i kid you not. i guess i sorta saw bill this morning, but we both know nothing before 9 in the morning counts as human interaction. especially when the coffeemaker is broken. i am _literally_ _dying_ of _boredom_. Seriously, why are underscores so much more awesome than underlines? i tried to make you all a crossword puzzle, but i couldn't figure out how to make one that could easily be filled in online. suck. i suspect i will be co-workerless for some time. someone please come up with a project for me.

oh, woe

I just finished rereading my blog-posts of what I was doing this time last year (backpacking through Europe). Indeed, one year ago yesterday Bill & I began our exciting journey, starting with a Parisian visit with our friend Ryan and his Austrian frau(lein? jenni, doesn't it make it sound like they are married if I simply say 'frau'? I don't mean to imply that, but I don't want to be sexist in German, of all things! Probably I could simply avoid the issue entirely if I knew the German for girlfriend or something. But I don't.) Anyway, I am a little bit sad about what my life amounts to now vs. this time last year. And I am even sadder because I have no plans, long term or otherwise, to return to foreign shores. I know that my next big adventure will have to be either Latin America, or the Pacific i.e. Australasia. And I have my Los Angeles move to plan, which is moderately fun but not nearly as enjoyable as planning international travel. And, even sadder, I realize that mathematically, traveling in Europe will actually be cheaper than living in Los Angeles! Boo.

oooooooh

Yesterday, Bill and I ventured to far far away Lawrence to see Peaches! We also had the pleasure of seeing the Eagles of Death Metal, which did not sound so much like death metal, but classic rock. I guess I'm not really sure which is which. We had the extreme displeasure of seeing Ssion, possibly the worst band ever. Seriously, the worst band ever. There were costume-changes, a naked girl, and floor-writhing, which one would think would distract from the horrible craptasticness of the band, but, you would be wrong. In this case, the copious use of nipples served to only exacerbate the truly wretchedness of the music.
Anyway, Peaches was pretty much the best ever; even Bill couldn't stop talking about her awesomeness, which he swears was unrelated to the amount of nudity on stage. The local scenesters came out in full regalia, made all the more impressive by the fact that the club was unairconditioned and quite probably hotter than hell. Slouchy boots, Kansas, July! Far more appropriately dressed were those that came in their best Peaches costumes, hot pants and bustiers!

sottotitolo

Sometimes, when I watch a movie in a language I vaguely understand (ie the romance languages), I think the fact that I can generally make out where one word ends and the next begins means I don't have to pay attention to the subtitles. This is generally wrong.

ohfunboringnessblah.

I know I need to update my blog, because it feels like time, and I just have no excuse.

I have been doing a lot of entertaining at my lovely Roeland Park abode, and my futon, I can now report, has been slept on by multiple people. Having visitors is way funner than not, since it means drinking more and eating out, two oft-forgotten pleasures. Also, good company!

In other news, I completed two books in as many days (though one I had been working on for a while). First, The Devil Wears Prada, which blew. A lot of you are probably like, what, ruth, could you have been thinking? Well, I'll tell you what I was thinking. I was thinking that Bridget Jones's Diary is hysterical, and it's summer, and one can only keep up this cultural elitism in 100 degree heat for so long. I also thought that since my coworker wanted me to read it, I had to. Now, reading DWP was worse than the Da Vinci Code fiasco, where I also succumbed to pressure, not only from friends, but also my internal "i am such an effing snob that i can't deign to read this bestselling novel" barometer.

Actually, there was nothing fiasco-worthy about the Da Vinci Code. I found it acceptably enjoyable, and it allowed me to rather snobbishly relive my French and Italian travels.

The DWP, though, was unpardonably awful and truly stupid. My mother has been pressuring me to go see the movie with her, which I may consider doing but only because I love air conditioning and popcorn. But before I do that, well, I need to watch La Dolce Vita which I received by mail yesterday. And then probably hear about why Fellini isn't all he's cracked up to be from my smarty-pants boyfriend, who is kinda famous now.

Sincerely yours,

Ms. Snotty-pants

P.S. The other book I finished was not the Da Vinci Code, which I read after it had only been on the best seller list for a year or so. So like, 2004 maybe. Anyway, I read Peter Orner's new book, The Second Coming of Mavala Shikongo, which I found moderately excellent. In any case, here's hoping Orner can parlay the Brangelina-Namibia craze into bestsellerhood, as his book is set in Namibia.

Show me yours.

I've heard from several friends about how they find my 'desk' picture fascinating, since you never get to see where your friends actually work. Because of this, and because of my embarrassingly dull previous blog entry, I have decided to share this with you. To the right of what's pictured is a virtually identical desk, where sits my computer and thus me. If I look to the left, well, right now, that is exactly what I see.
So let's dialogue on this point. Where do we pass the bulk of our days? How about a little office voyeurism?

oldness

sometimes, when i check my email first thing in the morning at work, i am sad about how i send emails to my friends and vice-versa before 10 in the morning. I remember back in the day when an email sent before 10 would trigger 'what are you doing up so early?' and was misty-eyed about it.
the saddest part is, due to proximity to my work and general indifference to personal hygiene, i probably get up wayy later than many of you. i am worried both of these things will have to change in LA, and then i will become part of the crowd who wakes up in the sixes.

For those that have wondered what my boyfriend looks like...

well, it sure isn't this!
anyway, we have haircuts.
bill may be mad because he turns 25 on Friday!

Goodbye, Koen.

Koen, my mom's exchange student, left us today. Back to Belgium. To a continent with no Chipotles. *sniff*

Finally, a British invasion worth its salt!!!

Topshop comes to Manhattan!!!

Maybe I've had too much coffee this morning, but I am quivering with excitement about this news.

Please, retail gods, tell me that Los Angeles is next.

Cranky Grr.

"Ruth, you're so well-traveled. Where would you stay, the Best Western or the Holiday Inn?"


I hate people. And interacting.

Either bring me Oreos or go away.

Nothing could possibly make me happy besides transfat today.

Bullets

Things that are cool:

• Car radios.
• Sangria.
• Sleep.
• Stuff that grows.
• Skype.
  

Things that are not cool:

• Hangovers.
• Sticky countertops.
  
• Plagiarism.
  
• Broken can openers and exploding tuna fish.
  

Kansas! Cows!

Sometimes I like to think Kansas City is a cosmopolitan city and that we Kansans don't deserve the hard time given to us by the rest of the world. Other times, there are cows at my bank parking lot, for the neighboring suburb's annual cattle drive.

My new camera, my first tomato

Summertime

OK, I am happy that it is summer, but these longer days are reminding me of how little I have to do. It was one thing thing spend whole evenings doing nothing when it was dark out, but quite another to spend whole evenings doing nothing when it's sunny.
I have developed a few new hobbies, namely, growing stuff. I have some pots now in which things grow! Namely, tomatoes! Chives! Basil! Cilantro! The chives and cilantro I am bravely growing from seed (organic seed to boot!) and seem to be doing well, particularly the cilantro. And my tomato plants have produced, thus far, two teenytiny tomatoes! They are green and look extremely untasty, but, we will wait and see! Because that's what gardening is all about! I love my plants, but so far, they seem fairly self-sufficient (except that one purple basil plant that died instantly *sigh* there is a lot of heartbreak associated with growing stuff). So, not much to do there... And I did order my camera, but FedEx says I can't have it until Thursday!!!
Instead, I need a fun-plan. I think that I should have a visitor. No one has slept on our futon, except my jerk boyfriend when he left me to die with the flu in our bed. That's sad, because we've lived in our apartment since December 31st!
If I had a visitor, I would take care of you like my two tomato plants, or my cilantro. Whichever you prefer. Also, like the sweet basil, but not like the purple basil, which died. And you would entertain me more than the chives, who have done shit!
We could go to a baseball game, which will probably be disappointing, but only if we root for the Royals. I will, but you don't have to. No one else does. And I guarantee you, it's a lot cheaper to go see the Royals than to see your local team. $5 buys a whole section these days!
We could look at fountains, of which there are tons! You may recognize some of them from your travels in Seville or Rome.
I will take you to some of my favorite places, like 91st & Metcalf, where there is a Chipotle, TJ Maxx and Marshalls! Sure, you can probably do that at home, but where have you seen a TJ Maxx & Marshalls across the street from each other before!
I can also take you to my favorite barbeque place, the Bob-Be-Que! It's delicious. Of course, if you don't eat meat, we can go somewhere else! Kansas City has tons of delicious vegetarian fare, now that Burger King offers a veggie burger, anyway.
In short, you should come to visit me in Kansas City, before I flee in August. I am a really awesome hostess. We can have basil and tomatoes from my garden, with the finest mozzeralla available...

Digital Camera Envy etc

Dear friends who know SO MUCH STUFF!
I am in the market for a digital camera. I have more or less narrowed it down to these three choices, although I reserve the right to add to this list at any given point.
I am fairly settled on the superzoom, as I think I would enjoy its capabilities. However, I am open to arguments about why I should get something smaller & with less zoom. I am, however, settled on not getting an SLR.
Here are the major differences, as I see them.

• The Panasonic Lumix has a hot shoe, which could be very exciting. The model I am looking out has been replaced with a less positively reviewed model, which means the one I am interested in is cheaper, but also, older.
  
• The Fujifilm Finepix does not have stabilization, which is bad. It's the cheapest of the bunch, though only slightly.
  
• The Canon S2 IS is a Canon, which makes me like it a little bit more than the others. Features-wise, it's in-between the other two, but does have 12x optical zoom as opposed to 10x. I'm not sure how much difference I think that would make to me.
  

I am also open to suggestions of similar cameras. I didn't see any Nikons or Olympuses that particularly impressed me, but again, I'm open. I invite your commentary and advice. Indeed, I beg for it.

Indecisively yours,
Ruth

Oh, boo hiss.

Fuck you, Blue Cross Blue Shield of Kansas City and my $32.20 birth control. I'll show you where the money is when I stop taking it and you pay for my thousands of dollars pregnancy. I hate you, the man.

Ugh.

This article is insanely stupid. It's written like an undergraduate application essay. I can't believe that trite twit gets to have a book and write for the New York Times.

As I've mentioned in previous posts, I have a massive crush on my library. This concept of finding books & movies online, placing holds, then getting an email a few days later announcing their arrival to my particular branch is absolutely brilliant. Of course, there is something to be said for browsing, but the convenience of this online business really trumps all.
That said, there are dangers to library use vs. simply buying online.
I have a variety of books & movies on hold. Some are fine literature and foreign films, others are self-help books and horror flicks. Usually, the holds that come in are a mix, which, I feel, speaks to my eclecticness and lack of artifice.
However, Friday I came in to collect several holds: What color is your parachute?; Refuse to choose! : a revolutionary program for doing everything that you love; Jobs for English majors and other smart people; Do what you love, the money will follow : discovering your right livelihood; Saw. OK. I've mentioned in previous posts that I am uncertain as to what to do with my life, and, as for the self-help genre, I found Suze Orman's Young Fabulous & Broke to be rather helpful, and two books on law school & lawyerness convinced me that I should never take that path...
So. I had hoped to collect these books rather anonymously. There is one librarian under 40 in my local library, a cute blond girl probably in her late 20s. She, plus one of the octogenarians, were at the checkout counter. I kept my fingers crossed (literally) that hipster girl would not be my checkout girl.
Alas, she was. So, I present my card, she scans, makes a face. Says "is your dad a teacher?" I confirm, she says "what's his name?" (Note: I feel her obligation would be to say something to the effect here of: "is he mr. yourlastname?" or "does he teach at blank?" or "does he teach orchestra?" rather than asking his name, but whatever). Anyway, she confirmed that he was her teacher, she recalls me as a smaller girl, etc, etc. Then she gives me my books and I am forever embarassed.
Incidentally, I haven't looked at my self-help books yet (being too involved with literary fiction (Our kind : a novel by Kate Walbert, my new issue of Bust magazine, and ok, the Gilmore Girls), but my roommate, Julie (yes, I am outing you too) has looked through Parachute & one other, and confirms that Parachute is a christian book! Jeez.

high school

Well, I spent a significant portion of my past weekend at my high school alma mater, supporting my small brothers in various activities. Some commentary:

• Those bitches have more expensive jeans than me, and fancier hair too. I consoled myself with the fact that they no doubt can't use a semi-colon to save their life.
• I tried to take comfort in the fact that I can hold my liquor better, but then realized that honestly, my tolerance has never surpassed my 12th grade drinking abilities.
• I also tried to take comfort in the fact I was definitely cooler than them, and contemplated pointing out that I was 'rude' when they were toddlers, and listened to Belle & Sebastian when they were rocking out to Raffi. Then I wondered if Belle & Sebastian are still cool, and started feeling bad about what little attention I pay to new music.
• I saw a tween in a Killers shirt this weekend. I bought a Killers CD a few months ago. I can't say I've succeeded in getting into it. I know that some of my cooler friends like them a lot, so I am still trying. But given the choice of NPR or the Killers, I'll take NPR.
• I also saw several kids in Grateful Dead/DMB/Phish shirts & cargo shorts from Abercrombie. I took a great deal of comfort in their existence, because in high school I scorned them, and it appears they are filling the same purpose as before, so I scorned again.
• Of course, I did all this from the awkward vantage point of adult sibling, which was a little embarassing, particularly at the battle of the bands, where both of my brothers's competed.
• For instance, there were beach balls bouncing around. I really wasn't sure whether or not I should ensure that they continue to bop around, or if I should just let them fall when they approached me. Usually I hit them, but went to no great lengths to do so. I considered this to be 'nonchalant.'
• I am a firm believer in dancing at live music performances. However, I didn't want to attract undue attention, so settled for head bopping towards the back.
• Also, on my brothers' bands. Littlest brother plays ska. He's 16. I think I outgrew ska completely by then. I do remember driving to ska shows, but I also remember seeing Dub Narcotic that year, so 16 was clearly an age of musical transition for me. Bigger brother plays, like, frat boy funk-blues. Yikes.
• I can't believe those girls all had on more expensive jeans than me. Maybe I'm not prioritizing my spending properly.

See you next Tuesday.

I have been saying and writing that all day. Now I am embarassed, because, as we all know, C U Next Tuesday means cunt. But we are having a workshop... next tuesday, so I keep repeating that. Whoops. I am so vulgar. It would be awesome if I could just say, "Thanks for registering, c.u.n.t." instead. That would be hysterical.
In any case, I can't find any information on protests today in Kansas City. I would like to lend my support to the immigrant community. I am pretty disgusted with much of the commentary coming out of the immigration debates. The nastiness of really, the majority, is just so troubling.

Fulfillment

Well, my vileboss is gone 4eva, and my work life is both satisfying and busy. So, I am disinterested in updating on a regular basis, much like the people who make up the Js of my 'friends list.' What is with you, middle section?
I have no antics of evil to describe, nor have I done anything remotely exciting in the last few weeks. My grandfather has been in town and his hearing isn't the greatest, so I have done lots of yelling, which, ordinarily forms a part of 'excitement' but does not in this case.
The news, usually bloggably-rich, seems dull. Whereas I used to fill hours of my day reading various newspapers, now, a quick skim of the nytimes front page & most emailed sates me. And I haven't seen a movie worth commenting on in ages (although I do have both a streetcar named desire and the taste of others at home lined up for this weekend), though I have begun watching the first season of Arrested Development & Grey's Anatomy. As the one episode I watched previously suggested, Arrested Development is 4X funnier than everyone said. Buster, I love you.
And Grey's Anatomy, while enjoyable, is a hospital drama which is toxic for me as I tend to cry each and every time someone dies, could die, or talks about dying. So, kinda high-risk behavior for me.
I suppose the biggest news is that I paid my outstanding library fine from high school ($44.50--not bad!) and am now able to use the library again. And I tell you, I love the library! Indeed, it is they who have supplied me with the first season of Arrested Development & A Streetcar Named Desire, as well as assorted other works of fiction and law school-focused books. I just finished "A woman's guide to law school' which has partially convinced me that law school is for chumps and i would rather die than be a lawyer. Now I am taking a break with Zadie Smith's Autograph Man, which 25 pages in (which is probably 5%), seems that it will be acceptably engrossing but not as enjoyable as White Teeth. Anyway, I am pretty excited to be restored to the good graces of my library.

While I doubt that anyone actually reads my blog with the mind to keep up on the banalities of my life, I nevertheless feel compelled to update about them from time to time.

• The executive board unceremoniously told my boss that her resignation would be effective Monday (that's two days past now), not the end of April as previously planned. Such elation.
• Except, unfortunately, I spent Monday and much of the weekend ravaged by influenza. I have since recovered, but the experience was extremely unpretty. Conversely, I think it may have been slenderizing, so all was not lost.
• Yesterday, I became an advanced user of Microsoft Access under the tutelage of an extremely dull man. I have since managed to completely fuck up our work databases in ways that I had previously never even dreamed.
• I have begun to prepare to take the LSAT.
• Unsurprisingly, in light of the above announcement, I have continued to talk myself out of tattooing and have made no moves to ink umbrellas or any other water-repellent on my body.
• I ate a cookie that has been sitting in the "kitchen" of my work since Friday. It wasn't bad.

Oh, pretty please, die

My fuckwit boss just set a fire in our microwave. Apparently, she doesn't bother with the timer feature and just cranks it all the way up. You know those fancy-schmancy organic veggie dishes? Amy's, I believe? Yeah, toxic when microwaved past the recommended guidelines. My boss, being responsible for absolutely nothing, used the opportunity to complain about the lack of adequate fire alarms in our building. Then you know, she went in her office and shut the door, leaving me to enhale the no doubt deadly fumes.
As many of you know, my vileboss has resigned and will cease tormenting me with her thoughtlessness, extremely poor social skills and rampant neuroses in a few (not nearly few enough) weeks. I can't wait. Because otherwise, die.

Suck it, French Youth

Looks like you lost the battle against precariousness. "Contre la précarité!" if you must, and surely you must.
Too bad about that. I wish I could say I was sad for you, but it's hard to have sympathy for those who get to eat more creme fraiche than me (and American creme fraiche is quite poor and awfully expensive anyway), smoke more cigarettes, and effortlessly weigh less.
But that's fine, because it looks like your waistlines are expanding since you have the most McDonalds per capita outside of the US and now you'll have to work hard to keep your lousy french jobs with your excessive vacations. You'll probably become stressed and end up eating massive quantities of cheap chocolate at your desk, which will just exacerbate your growing girths. Bummer, french youth, I really want to feel for you, but I'm not sure if it's jealousy or animosity that keeps me from doing so.
In any case, we've suspected you're worthless for a long time, so, let's see if you can cut it in the real world (ie the american one).

I cannot live without positive reinforcement

Hence, a poll! Wheeee.

My once and future tattoo

For those of you that have had the "what tattoo would you get?" conversation with me, you know that my answer has been, for that last 4 years at least, a tattoo of an umbrella (although for like, two weeks, I desperately wanted that tiger (or maybe lion) tattoo that is on the cover of a push kings album). A delinquent friend of mine once even promised to draw it for me, so I could get it. Why an umbrella? No reason, except perhaps that I like Mary Poppins and used to love Magritte. But still, Magritte is cool and umbrellas are the best. I never did get my tattoo, in part because my mom threatened to revoke college funding if I did get a tattoo (ha! joke's on me, because those loans were in my name, weren't they?), and in part, because, well, I'm not tattoo cool. Yeah, I am not the biggest of flipping losers, but I am definitely not cool enough that I ever listen to music at top volume, unless I am trying to demonstrate that I am, in fact, mad enough to listen to music so loud it hurts. And yeah, I can tolerate a bit of the punk music from time to time, but let's be honest. I would rather listen to Dolly Parton than the Sex Pistols. And yes, I do like a number of Kill Rock Stars & K Records bands that might be labeled as punk, but, well, I don't think that buys me any tattooed-hard-ass cred, although I am fairly sure tattooed hard asses don't get umbrellas inked into their flesh.
But, I think it's time. I really think I might be ready to cross the line into becoming a tattooed person. The following are nice umbrella prototypes, and I would like your opinion. I am pretty sure I just want a black outline with the 'seams' inked in, if that makes sense, although I have not 100% ruled out the use of color. Also, let it be known that I will not be adding raindrops or anything of the kind to my umbrella tattoo. Just an umbrella for me, thanks.
Also, I am pretty sure it will be diagonal on my left shoulder, with the hooked handle pointing up. I have also contemplated getting a flipping huge one that stretches across my back, like a thunderbird, but well, I will never be that badass.
Umbrella 1:

Umbrella 2:

Umbrella 3:

Umbrella 4:

Humiliated again

OK, it is bad enough that the US has elected Bush to the presidency twice, that our states continue to battle evolution, that crazy South Dakota has banned abortion, that DeLay won his stinking primary, that most Americans still think there are WMD in Iraq & that Crash won the Acadamy award. These things are humiliating. The US news section in international papers looks like the Onion or some similar mockumentary, but most shocking(!!!!): "US knocked out at World Classic."
America's pasttime? What? How can this be! I understand that similar anguish was felt during the Olympics, dream team etc & no doubt followers of Quad Rugby experienced similar devastation. But losing in our most bestest coolest sport, advancing countries with a total population less than the number of American baseball movies, this is truly humiliating.

Keeping up

Well, after all these pedophilia/myspace stories, I decided it was time to join. While doing so, though, I realized that I am no longer attractive to pedophiles, and indeed, have not been for some time. Bummer.
But really, how many of these silly networking sites is a person required to join? And myspace is really really ugly. Not mine, mine is boring, but some people's, dare I say most people's, myspace is hideous. I spent an hour or so (while watching the gilmore girls & eating popcorn, granted) finding the same friends I am already connected with on friendster & facebook or both(!) and adding them. Many of whom are using the same photos & text! It's exasperating!
On the plus side, it's no great inconvenience and does create a new time waster for work. So come on, be my myspace friend too. I feel like a big dork with only a few friends...

Los Angeles

So, my clever boyfriend has been admitted to UCLA. This is pretty exciting because it means I can focus my life planning a bit more than before, though there are still pending applications and financial aid etc etc so the move to LA is not certain by any means.
However, I now can apartment hunt in LA with greater dedication than before, but the problem with LA is the connotations. I mean, the utter horror when the 90210 or clueless crowd had to go to 'the valley' for some sort of party. So obviously, we don't want to live in 'the valley' but what valley could they mean? Simi, san fernando, sun, there are at least half a dozen areas called 'something valley' around Los Angeles, and who knows which valley (or all valleys) is so undesirable?
And then, of course Malibu and Venice Beach are off-limits, because of the Barbie connections. I don't remember where my objections come from to Venice Beach, but I am pretty sure it has something to do with rollerblades and spandex. There's that terrible movie "Laurel Canyon," the wretched "Topanga" on Boy Meets World, "The Little Old Lady From Pasedena," and well, I don't know what Santa Monica is all about but I really hate the name "Monica." And I don't even know what to say about Hollywood, Beverly Hills, or Bel Air.
It's embarassing. I couldn't say "oh, I live in Venice Beach" without feeling like a total reject.

Oh, seriously, allow me to retch

Crash? Worst movie ever. Seriously. Puketastic. Remember when movies were about subtlety & I don't know, something not boring and stupid? OK, me neither, but Crash sucked. Boo academy.

My soap dispenser at work.

It looks like this.



Always with the two inches of thicker, milkier soap on top. I noticed it my first time using the facilities here, and while the more translucent level will change, there are always two inches of grossness on top. As I have little to report of note (except that my boyfriend is handsome and brilliant, which is of course old news), I decided to illustrate the little bit of bathroom grossness that I visit every day.

what the kids are listening to...

So, the fact of the matter is, I am getting older. Indeed, I have found my first grey hairs (2 of them!) in the past week. I found that pretty damn traumatic and am now having nightmares about grey hairs and strollers and biological clocks, oh my.
But the 'arctic monkeys,' that really sets me off. What a freaking stupid band name. Now, I haven't heard them yet. I may give them a shot tonight when I am at home using a computer with sound capabilities. I guarantee you that I won't like it though. But Arctic Monkeys is an INSANELY dumb band name; it connotes nothing but socks sold at Claire's and t-shirts sold at Spencer's. Which isn't cool at all. I keep trying to think of a comparably stupid band name that I listen(ed) to during my youth, and the only thing I can think of is 'superchunk' except I never really listened to them, that was all Michael. Also I was never a foo fighters fan.
No, I feel quite certain that I never listened to any band with as stupid a name as 'arctic monkeys' and I will not start now.

Basically, I have to update my blog because the last sentence of my last post is grammatically inept, and each time I check back to see if there are any new comments, I notice my grammatic failure (brought on by a desperate desire to use the word 'imperious') I am mortified.
In other news, I am thus far the only one in my office, the parking lot to my building is almost completely empty, and the mailman just stopped by to tell me that we have no mail today. Today is going to be a strange one.

When I am taken hostage

When I am taken hostage, which is highly likely since I don't even know how to use a gun at all, thus increasing the likelihood that I'll be kidnapped and unable to escape, I hope that I am strong and resolute and say things like "Never back down! Don't give into their maniacal demands" especially if their demands are more or less reasonable, like a box of Thin Mints (although they are becoming less and less reasonable every year).
This brings me to my second point, which is, I need to learn how to use a gun. Should I ever, you know, get taken hostage or end up in a horror movie. I have nightmares about staring down Freddy Krueger, trying to blow his brains out, and falling backward, thus meeting my death.
I just hope that should I ever end up in a life or death situation, my eyes turn to steel and my manner imperious.

The military, the profane, and the profaned.

So, as I have previously mentioned, there is an army office in my building. To be honest, I'm not sure what they do, as they don't have a storefront, as it were, so I guess that means they aren't a recruiting office. Also, sometimes they are in the elevator with guns, which, I believe, are discouraged in recruitment. But here's the thing... they swear. A lot. The one I see most frequently seems to use the small hallway leading to my office for his loud phone calls. Since my job is pretty dull (see most of my previous entries), I don't really mind listening in on his typically angry and profane conversations. Why he chooses to have them in front of a door marked "REACH for Kids," I'll never know, but whatever. It passes the time. One literally lasted nearly two hours!!! One hopes these matters are not of national importance, though I could easily understand the desire to swear at full volume about the state of affairs.
Now, today, I rode the elevator with two of them, and they repeatedly referred to another person, presumably female, as a 'fucking cunt.' As most of you know, I pepper my speech frequently with profanity, but an office elevator? In the presence of another? Tres bizarre. And the c-word no less! I am pro-profanity and am quite liberal in where I believe it is acceptable to use. Indeed, I have even spoken with my colleagues about the dual issues of blow jobs and inclusion in schools (which, in middle school, I foresee as being a huge problem for parents who wish their special needs child to be fully integrated with their peers). However, I take umbrage with the near constant swearing of these army guys (and no, not even sailors!) while I fill my water glass at the communal fountain or ride the elevator.
While I recognize that the military is not known for its mild language, I must say I prefer my interactions with the military, as a civilian, to be more 'an officer and a gentleman' than 'jarhead.' I thought that with the whole desire to serve and defend came prosaic ideas about womanhood (or at least, white women...), and thus, deference to our more delicate sensibilities. I suppose that went out the window when we started using military service in lieu of a prison sentence.

Ruth ponders... predictability

So, today, as I flip through various news sites, I find myself unwilling to read the articles about our president's state of the union address or his visit to Nashville, various murders (while I do find these fascinating, they fall under the 'headline tells the story' category and thus always disappoint) and all the other boring and predictable news out there. The one exception being the president's statement that he is "educator-in-chief" which is possibly the most horrifyingly hilarious thing I have ever heard. However, it fits nicely into the underqualified theme of the past 6 years. I like imagining our president as Mrs. Honeycutt, my kindergarten teacher, and various other educators of my past. I also think it seems likely that Jack Black would have referred to himself as "educator in chief" in School of Rock, and that is totally awesome. There are many ways our president could be a lot cooler, and, I think, rocking out with kids and macking it to Joan Cusack are merely a couple of ways to start.

Hairy tits, faces, the works.

So my roommate and I instituted a new policy of meeting for drinks once a week, going to a bar we've never been to. It's part of my theory that we need to start exploring Kansas City like we did not grow up here and start thinking of Kansas City based on that "Kansas City here we come" song, that Magnetic Fields song, "your eyes are Kansas City, one in Kansas and one in Missouri" (ok, so that song isn't all too relevant, but I'm, well, so vain that I basically think that song is about me, also, GBV, Beekeeper Seeks Ruth, it totally makes me blush) and you know, who think Kansas City is awesome meat products and jazz and has one of the largest collections of Asian art outside of Asia. And there is that Altman movie, Kansas City, that I have never seen-- its tagline is "Kansas City, 1934. Anything could happen here. One night it did." for chrissakes.
So, for our first selection (Julie's, actually), we went to a bar called John's Big Deck, which, as my stud-lover points out, is totally a penis joke. In any case, we were pretty much the only women there, aside from the waitresses and one blonde lady with enormous fake and almost entirely exposed breasts. Her stomach, also enormous and exposed, seemed to be genuine. And most of the men there were a) long-bearded in baseball caps b) in overalls and c) eating the special, which was a hunk of meat, one slice of white bread, fries, and a baked potato.
Of course, I had the view of the action, which was bad, because I have a tendancy not to actually look at the person I am with, so this obviously exacerbated the problem, which escaladed when Tits went over to Longest-Beard with a pair of scissors and placed his long beard between her large and incredibly wall-eyed breasts, all the while making porn-star face, and cut his beard off, so that all the hair fell down her shirt. Then she stood up, and pulled a huge wad of hair out, still making porn-star face! To which, Formerly Longest-Beard said, huh, you've got hairy tits, and then they went home together!!! Or rather, left together. I should illustrate this for you, but I'm not really sure where the paint equivalent is on my pretty new iBook, and am too lazy to look.

Seriously, why are libertarians so crazy? I used to be a card carrying member (granted, before I could vote), but man, they are a wacky people. Superficially rational and logical beings, they insist on doing things like having excessive facial hair and loving the guns. I mean, don't get me wrong, I am relatively pro-gun, but actually touching guns and even owning them? That's a lot weird. Today I read about this guy, who, forget what he's saying, looks like Timothy McVeigh's handsome uncle.
But, what about what's he's saying? There shouldn't be secret laws requiring passengers to produce ID to fly... hmmm. Perhaps there is an argument worth making here. While I have never been troubled by this requirement, maybe I should be? I mean, I'd like to be able to read the law if I so choose (which, incidentally, I would never choose to do. Unless I go to law school, and then I might have to).
And then there is the fact that he's the co-founder of the Electronic Frontier Foundation , an organization that my boyfriend totally hearts. Which I now find creepy, because I think we all know that frontier is one of those creepy words, like legion or order that you know secretly means cults or militias.

Yeah Abortion Yeah

So, as I've been reading/listening to what our crazy president has been saying, I have begun writing my first screenplay. And when I say 'writing', I mean I just thought of it and figured, heck, I'll put it into my blog and maybe someone can steal it and that would be cool too.
I'll tell you about my thought process:

• Man, these pro-lifers are sure crazy. We shall overcome? What? Man, I bet those "yeah, it's totally shaved into a heart" Bush twins, I bet one of them has totally had an abortion.
• Oh, they so have. I mean, underage drinking is the gateway drug to unwanted pregnancy and I haven't noticed them pregnant. Although to be honest, I don't even know their names, much less the frequency of their ovulation.
• Ohmigosh, this would make the best movie about the abortion debate, way better than that crappy Citizen Ruth movie. And it goes like this:

Cool, obgyn, veteran of the women's movement. probably diane keaton, pam greer, susan sarandon, you know the type. the movie is mostly about her dilemma. The daughter of a high profile, anti-abortion activist finds herself with an unwanted fetus. Obviously, she can't turn to her parents, so instead, where does she go? Planned Parenthood of course! This in itself is an adventure as you know, she can't be spotted. I have not cast this role. but let it be known that whoever plays this part will know how to wear a scarf. In any case, she decides to have the abortion.

But the real debate is the obgyn's. She has to decide if she should leak the the girl's abortion to the press thus discrediting the politician father, or if she should go to great lengths to protect her privacy, as she would any other patient. Of course she keeps the secret, and of course the secret is found out, and of course everything works out for the greater good in the end, much like the Cheney's lesbian-child. Oh wait.

In any case, I am not predicting this movie to rock or anything like that. Rather, it would be more of an after-school special movie, although it would still play in theatres and maybe even win an academy award. This movie would go in the Step-mom, Seabiscuit, Other Sister category. You know, about how it is good to love defective things and you learn a lot about yourself when you do so.

question of the day:
should i, as my boss (who is a monster) suggested, become a lawyer?
or, does anyone have any better ideas about what should become of my life?

The OC & Cubix

Unfortunately, I can't really update my blog anymore because when I'm at home, I have to watch the OC all the time, and when I'm not busy at work, I have to play Cubix. My other free time has been devoted to scouring clearance racks, because, as every sensible shopper knows, 3 weeks after christmas is the best time to buy, as everything is now at its lowest price. Additionally, I have been listening to Jens Lekman "Oh You're So Silent Jens" rather obsessively. I love the album, but wonder if that isn't because I love Belle & Sebastian and Stephin Merritt best of pretty much all things, and he sounds remarkably similar. So I'm not sure if that's a bad thing and he should lose points because of it. Is Jens Lekman a knock-off? Is that a problem?

yawn

So, last night I woke up to Bill talking in his sleep, quite audibly, about Microsoft, Google & the Great Firewall of China. Or something like that. I swear this happened, he was in full-blown lecture mode about something to do with the above-named items. There is a chance, however, that I dreamed this and Bill is in fact innocent. I do have a history of dreaming things and then waking up, believing that they happened. I also believe that I dreamed last night that I told someone that my little brothers were both 6'4" and 220 lbs. However, that's not really true, one brother is not that tall and neither are that heavy. But anyway I feel pretty sure that I did in fact do this, except that I don't remember talking to any strangers yesterday, or really, at all over the weekend. So I have to assume that I did dream that part, but I nevertheless believe that Bill did talk in his sleep about technological stuff.
And speaking of my brothers, one has decided to move into my bedroom! I have been moved out for a week... or 6 years minus 3 months, as I prefer to look at it, and he's taking over my room of millions of years. Granted, it is the best room not occupied by my mother, but it's mine and I kinda thought I could just leave all my unneccessary stuff there for the next, oh, 10-70 years. But no, I actually have to decide whether or not I should really keep my Eleanor Roosevelt report from the 6th grade... and by this weekend too! I am not really a pack rat, but you know, I have about a half dozen boxes of various crap shoved around my room, not to mention the specific crap like all my books and photos from high school? And seriously, what on earth do people do with their jewel cases when they can't leave them at their mom's house anymore? On one hand, literally everything in my bedroom could be donated to goodwill and I would never really even notice, but to be forced to actually make these decisions... I had hoped to stretch it out over the next 8 months or so.
But really, what do people actually do with jewel cases?

New Digs & A Trip, whee.

So, I am all moved in to my lovey apartment. It is adorable, and we have all the good stuff, like beer, bourbon, a futon and a balcony. So we are totally visitor-ready. It pimps.
In other news, I am going to Chicago this weekend and will be getting down at a bar called the Hop Leaf at, umm, Clark and Foster on Saturday evening. Ms. Amy Lynn, dear friend and regular blog reader and (hopefully) super fantastic hostess, will probably comment on actual location. In any case, I would love to see my Chicagoland readers. So, go there! Or call/email me. Whee.