Don't Know Better

I AM LEARNING AND GROWING!!!

2012-01-10T16:24:00.004-05:00

The people in the apartment above me are singing, stomping, and rolling marbles like it’s a GREAT DAY, but they forgot there’s an apartment below them where it is A HARD DAY.

It's really the marbles that I'm taking issue with. Who celebrates with MARBLES?! I mean, at the very least, we need to be friends PRONTO STAT.

Today I learned about myself if I can't get a FedEx package open, I will sit with it for awhile, helpless, occasionally telling it, "C'mon, you're better than this."

LET'S SEE WHAT HAPPENS LET THE CARDS FALL WHERE THEY MAY

"It's anybody's game!!!" said the knife in the kitchen pointedly.

I am gaining my marbles! Let's hope that signifies growth.

Courtesy of Flickr and bucklava

B's Alwayz Red Dottin' on Gchat Tho

2011-12-31T15:16:00.007-05:00

B keeps it business casual in emails. Mishy keeps it real.

Also, TOILER ALERT: I'm looking for a job as a monster. But y'all had a hunch, I'm sure.

A New Spice Channel?

2011-12-25T23:23:00.008-05:00

I am at home looking over the brink of a precipice, and I know that if I jump, there is no return. Let me clarify: My parents are watching the 2011 British Curry Awards on the telly.

"Be the curry you wish to see in the world."-Chef Gandhi

Courtesy of Flickr and yajico

Here is the 4-1-1 via their website (that's right, big time): "This year’s British Curry Awards exceeded all expectations, and showed why this continues to be the most significant event of its kind on the spice industry calendar."

Yes, you and me both didn't know about them. But now we do, and are sworn to the opposite of secrecy.

It is everything you could dreamscape and more: tuxes, big spectacle of a theater, montage of the year's advancements in curry and restaurant stemware, though surprisingly bland acceptance speeches considering everything the nominees have been through already (Try telling people you are a professional curry, just try! You'll see, you'll all see!)

Much to everyone's horrified delight, in between awards distribution, there was a breakdance performance performed by what looked like a World Cup soccer team, which felt appropriately global. There was also a comedian who did a 45-SECOND set, during which he covered the injustice of fruit and the difficulty of cheese. Cruel network! The biggest upset of the night was that there was no Spice Girl Reunion against all odds.

One guest said it best: "How could you not enjoy an evening like this?" Truly, magically rhetorical.

And a personal plug here. Big ups to BEST CURRY IN THE SOUTHWEST: Spice Lodge in Chelton!!! I was rooting for you from the moment they announced you won!

That's it for the breaking edge of spice reporting. Curry on, gentlefolks!

No Fairport/Season's Gratings

2011-12-25T00:42:00.003-05:00

SURPRISE!!! Here's that Yule Blog you all weren't expecting! Cue piñata burst of emotion!

Courtesy of Flickr and hectorir

I thought flying home on Christmas Eve would be a good idea. But everyone else had the same idea so I can no longer lay claim to it in that hushed, conspiratorial whisper used by spies & people inside a library.

It's bad enough that my airport shuttle driver handled the wheel like he was trying to break some kind of a record. The record being "Can you be an airport shuttle driver, but also audition for The Fast & The Furious franchise at the same time?"

Plus that airport was filled with kids! HUB? More like a HUBBUB, am I right, crickets?!?!

Sexy Tangent: What if Santa's elves looked like the elves from Lord of the Rings? He would feel so insecure. All lithe, lanky, and lyrical. Santa would be knocking things over all the time, and they'd be like "Our crystals! Not again. Please. Go eat with the reindeer. You're embarrassing the nature spirits." [AND SCENE.]

Oops, I was talking about kids and I got derailed with my life plans. Kids'll do that to you. They'll also enrich your life in ways you never dreamed Mission Possible. Tom Cruise knows. The couch knows. Oprah knows.

For example, this happened earlier today: A small girl at my gate was slowly eating chips & staring at me. HELLO SOCIAL WATERBOARDING. I was about to volunteer government secrets I didn't even have, like the Natural History Museum's Holiday Hours.

Boiler Alert: Nothing happened, other than that I boarded the plane and I sat next to a crying baby and in front of a Karate Kid (nonstop seat kicking). KIDS! Cue spaghetti face.

Courtesy of Flickr and Tobyotter

Thought I Had Earlier: Is it tacky if I buy everyone neck pillows from Hudson News? And by everyone, I mean myself. And by myself, I mean nobody. And by neck pillow, I mean Bugles.

Well, from me and this woman in a leopard print onesie/footie pajamas walking around the LA airport this morning like she subletted the place, HAPPY YMAS. Y? Because I said so!

Now if you'll excuse me, I must donate all my Fabergé eggs to pseudoscience.

Courtesy of Flickr and greenacre8

Little Shop of Distracting Horrors

2011-11-19T18:55:00.007-05:00

I am sitting in a bookstore/coffee shop doing some "work." I put work in quotes because I am blogging right now. And possibly later.

The woman in closest proximity to me in the coffee shop is eating a giant carrot. Not like a baby carrot, but one of those industrial ones they only sell to horse dealers. She's just biting off nibbles of it, trying to approach it as best she can. I'm guessing she didn't buy it here? Regardless, what a snack! I'm giving her press because she deserves it. I hope "eating a giant carrot with reasonable pacing" was on her to-do list today. I'm putting that very same task on my bucket list.

The family across from me is having a red sweatshirt powwow. I say this because all four of them are wearing red collegiate sweatshirts. I want to imagine they are just complimenting each other on their sweatshirts.

"May I mention how wonderful your Stanford hoodie looks this afternoon?"

"Only if I can return the favor!"

Two of these family members are four-year-old boys, and I doubt they know what Stanford is. But I guess it's the thread that counts. Also they all have coffee drinks, because why not? This family is already over the top.

Speaking of sophisticated four-year-olds, there was a four-year-old girl in here earlier organizing her wallet. That's right, her wallet. It had actual big bills in it ($20!!). I don't think I saw my first $20 bill until I was ready, that is to say, five years old. She then daintily put her wallet back into her chic shoulder purse, and went to go get her dad who was playing in the kids toy section. No, he wasn't, but he may as well have been! He was on his iPhone, most likely texting himself a reminder to look into how his kid grew up so fast.

Some hot teenager couple is in here now, doubling their attractiveness by circumnavigating each other's celestial bodies, angsting out. OH no, I think they're having a "talk" about their "relationship."

"Listen, you realize we're both super good-looking, and people enjoy that we're together like a TV couple?"

"I know, I know. But what if we want to see other good-looking people?"

"How dare you! Don't distress my genes; they're already perfect as is."

In conclusion, I am not getting any work done, nor have I ever, at this rate.

Whoever Did This Has Major Cheese Balls

2011-10-26T17:00:00.002-04:00

This sight met my eyes in the trash can at work.

In case you need a zoom:

I like to think of this, rather than as waste, as the future of movie snack sizes.

WHO'S WITH ME!?!

SHHHHHHHHH, NOBODY ANSWER.

Tiniest Furniture

2011-09-12T18:13:00.002-04:00

Oh man, what have you guys been up to? Not much here. Just been chilling it, watching this on repeat since we last talked:

The soundtrack really brings this home for me. Let's jam out. I'll bring the pennies for scale. It's amazing what science can do these days.

WTF FTW

2011-08-15T11:38:00.002-04:00

Hi there Goobers!

Just wanted to let you know, for all past, present, and future listeners, I had the great privilege of taping a super fun, albeit surreal live panel episode of WTF with Marc Maron a few months ago.

It's an amazing podcast, self-promotion notwithstanding.

But my episode went up today!

Expose yourselves to it here.

P.S. [insert spiritual quote that emphasizes my groundedness]

In One Ear & In the Other

2011-07-20T14:15:00.003-04:00

Can't stop listening to this; I have to cut myself off, or I will cross that horrific threshold where you oversaturate your brain with a certain song until it backfires, and you can never hear it the same magical, enamored way again. OH NO, it's like a metaphor for relationships, which incidentally this song is about (it's about time someone wrote a song about relationships):

Don't worry, little song. I will ration you out once on the hour every hour until my co-workers murder me with solemn fanfare.

Warning to Google+

2011-07-09T16:30:00.003-04:00

All I see is Google+ happily playing in the yard and these two dark, misunderstood souls staring from the window, waiting, just waiting...

How Could This Be?

2011-07-01T20:50:00.004-04:00

How did this end up in my SPAM folder?!? Alas, cruel fate can't keep us apart!

I will read what you have to say...(and then decide what your fate shall be.)

Deconstructing the Hero

2011-06-26T00:09:00.007-04:00

I don't know if you guys know this, but heroes walk amongst us.

In fact, inside each of us, deep down, is some serious hero potential.

But every hero has a dark side.

Then again, some heroes just want to, above all, come out looking like a hero.

Not a sermon, just a plot. Someone write the script! Seriously. Have your people Skype my people. We'll talk.

This has been a real stretch of a public service announcement about morality heavily influenced by novelty eyewear.

Help Is On the Way!

2011-06-09T16:14:00.006-04:00

My spam is slowly turning human...

And not but 27 minutes later...

Offer's on the table for me to be a hero. BUT I NEED DETAILS, GIRLFRIEND!!!

And despite the drama queen hysterical nature of them, I'd still take those emails any day over this tantalizing carrot of an escapist hullabaloo that is consistently waved over my head due to that listserv bender I went on that one night (My CAPTCHA tramp stamp serves as an unnecessary reminder):

Finally, Some Good News!

2011-06-07T17:54:00.004-04:00

Clicking NOT SPAM until my fingers bleed. I appreciate the minimalistic pomp on this one.

This is Everyone's Relationship, Am I Right?

2011-05-27T17:04:00.008-04:00

Two comedians walk into a bar. Only one leaves. That's how an engagement ceremony works, right? No, wrong.

But I do date a comedian and since I'm one also, people are always asking me, "What's that like?! Are you guys always trying to one up each other? Who's funnier? Do you ever get serious about anything? Am I still your friend? Why are you power walking away and not leaving a trail of Milk Duds for me to follow like usual?"

Barney Frankly, I got tired of the paparazzi (how I refer to my nearz&dearz) asking questions more than snapping candids. So to put all the foofaraw meets hullabaloo to an end, here's a little snippet from a web convo we had today.

(No, I don't get why this looks smudgy either.)

See? Just like any ol' folks.

I hope this puts everybody's concerns/curiosity to rest, and/or/either/hey/oops/stop/what this opens up a different can of worms I can complain about at a different date.

Oh, and if you don't "get" it, I'm sorry. But life was born with a context and I'm not here to provide you with the test answers. Only more questions. Consider this a commencement speech for which I was never hired, or even qualified. You should have studied harder or, at the very least, louder.

P.S. BoyBoy and I are both available for Bar Mitzvah debriefings and wedding reception clean up. We specialize in being yelled at!

I Also Do Birthdays

2011-05-05T15:56:00.004-04:00

Aced a Cinco de Mayo work fiesta by making compelling, relevant anecdotes; selecting appropriate food choices that rendered me a put-together specimen; and wearing the sombrero table decoration for just enough time to seem zany, but in a non-threatening way. This is the holiday where you shamelessly lie so as to keep the party going, yes?

NSFL

2011-04-30T17:49:00.003-04:00

image courtesy of imgur

WiFi Fo Fum

2011-04-30T16:56:00.007-04:00

Haven't blogged in a minute, well, more than a minute, but it's an expression. Get on board! Or, get on bored, and enjoy your slow-paced life. I'm not even kidding. I've been busy. So that's me.

Just kissing, I have more to say. I meant to say kidding, but it came out kissing. Freudian nip slip, as they say in the biz! The shrink biz, I mean, whose main sponsor is showbiz.

Anyway, let's move on, shall we? Or we shall see.

I'm in an Internet Cafe, and I'm doing it wrong. First of all, NO FREE WIFI. If you get nothing else from this post, get that. NO FREE WIFI. What is this, fascism?! I'm in Somerville, near Cambridge, near Boston. The hubbub of intellectual and social commerce is happening all around me, and I am being charged for looking at seductive kitten pics. I'm surprised there isn't a bread line next to the coffee counter. SHEEEEEEEEEEESH. But maybe they're only charging me because I've been doing a bad job since I got here.

First of all, I took too long to order. I KNEW what I wanted, don't even think for a second I was one of those deciders who decides after they are asked what they want rather than before. I knew what I wanted, I just made an obscene number of pauses when ordering as if I was in some kind of a soap operatic infomercial.

Then the nice lady gave me an overflowing coffee cup. Now I'm all for getting your money's worth, but it poured all over the counter. And do I really get to enjoy the java lake that's dripping onto the floor? Rhet-horri-cal. Not so sure that part is going be part of my caffeine scrapbook. Except maybe under the "Character-Building" section.

After all that, I had to find a place to sit down. BUT not just any place. A place with an outlet. For my emotional baggage and to power my computer. DOUBLE OUTLET ALL THE WAY. I walked all the way to the back of this restaurant because it had one of those false middles where you think you're done but then there's more junk in the trunk. And I happened across a world of math majors discussing ideas, a family playing competitive backgammon, and even one table up some stairs in a dark, unlit corner where I guess the hunchback is allowed to study/log on for a tick. It was like a parody of those cafes during the French Revolution where plans were laid out for better access to croissants by the people.

Found a table, found an outlet, scuffled quite a bit in getting out all my things disturbing the user next to me. We're all just users, so that seems what is most appropriate to call him. So I upset him with my scurlyburlyness. Then when I plugged in my laptop, I hit my head on the table coming up and had a flashback to before I hit my head. So that was embarrassing. Wish someone could have made a GIF of it, at the very least.

Finally I find the Wifi network, get ready to surf, starting eating a real scramble of a wrap, and proceeded to make a mess with that because wraps are always built with poor infrastructure and there's more on the inside than can be sustained within the tortilla basing.

Anyway, I'm on the web now but it asked for my credit card number and I'm pretty sure every student here got it down because I had to enter it so WICKED (local slang) SLOWLY.

GOTTA GO! A BUSINESSMAN WEARING A SAILOR HAT IS SITTING NEARBY. Literally anything could happen from this point forward. PLUS I AM BEING CHARGED BY THE SECOND for being cool and using WiFi.

P. to the Sssst. I forgot to drink my coffee over a reasonable period of time and now I have to chug 16 oz. of espresso and then inflict my hyperactive presence on a bunch of well-meaning audience members. TOOTLES!

This About Sums Up Everything Right Now

2011-04-18T19:15:00.002-04:00

That Right There's The Ill Par Na

2011-03-09T18:22:00.000-05:00

Severely Delayed Post...

Part I: Sicks on a Plane

I achieved one of my new goals! It's so new I didn't even know it was one of my goals until after I accomplished it. I got sicks on a plane! I say sicks because there were two incidents of sickness: A) the faint, could also say the FEINT because my body was doing a fake out/build up to get to B) the throw up.

If someone was interviewing me after the incident, which THEY WERE, but I will get to that, I would say YEAH I WAS SCARED. YEAH I WAS EMBARRASSED. YEAH I AM A DIFFERENT PERSON NOW THAN I WAS BEFORE.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

So yes, I took a late evening flight as we're all wont to do from time to time. And can I just tell you how indulgent the airport feels when you take the red eye? Nobody is ANYWHERE in that maze of gates and terminals. The security line was leisurely. I felt like I got some real personal attention and TLC during my full body scan as opposed to cold rigid protocol. Nobody is rushing you. Sure, one bin for each shoe, you guys deserve it! In fact, one bin for everyone on the house. I'm feeling generous.

This guy always flys the red eyes

photo courtesy of ChR!s H@rR!0t and Flickr

And miracle upon miracles, there were some eateries open for me to slop down some dinner. In fact, I could take up the entire restaurant and read a paper with day-old news and nobody was judging me for it.

Here's what transpired in my digestive system after that unbeknownst to me. I had some bad soup. Who has bad soup? I do, and I am not afraid of your skepticism. I didn't know bad soup was possible either, but the guy who served it to me (and I hate to typecast, but if this is a movie, I'm not casting against type, not when my health is at stake), well, he looked like someone who would not be afraid to spit in someone's soup, given the right set of circumstances. But honestly, deep down, I don't think he spit in my soup. I think I forgot to ask if the soup was vegetarian. It was called "Veggie" but maybe it was made with chicken stock or beef stock or even worse, stock images of soup.

Stock image of soup

photo courtesy of Wiki-wikipedia

It was also boiling hot; you don't think food poisoning when you think boiling hot. My tongue quickly took on that sandpaper feel associated with charred tastebuds. Yarfing was the last thing on my mind. In fact, I dare say I enjoyed the soup. I did have some tenderness around my eye, which I should have heeded. My eyes are like an old person's bones. They tend to act up when my body is trying to warn me of something. They are the gatepeepers.

So I got on my plane, no big whoopsie daisy. Settled down for my nice cross-country nap. EXCEPT UH OH. After trying my hand at the crossword and then settling in, someone woke up with a nice feverish feeling, broke out in a sweat, and then had the urge to hurl. Hint: It was me. So I stood up decisively to take care of matters. Picked a direction and walked confidently in it. I got to the end and realized I was at the food cart station. The next thing I remember a woman was asking me, "Honey, are you looking for the bathroom?" and I opened my eyes and I was on the floor, all Victorian lass in need with a flight attendant waving salted peanuts and pretzels under my nose to revive me.

Then I threw up! But in a bag, which was handed to me in the nick of time. Who likes throwing up in the aisle between two rows of first class passengers and is too ashamed to identify herself with thumbs? THIS GURL. I sat there for awhile while the flight attendants ployed me with cold cloths and sips of water. I was asked my name and some other trivia questions. Finally, when enough time had passed, they asked if I was ready to go back to my seat. Barf bag in hand of course.

Talk about a walk of shame. Luckily most of the passengers were asleep as it was early enough in the morning that I still had some dignity. And my seatmates did not ostracize me as I feared, or recoil at the sight of the oxygen tank I was given. I misjudged you, elderly couple! Your sense of character leaves me dry heaving, but for different reasons.

This guy knows what I'm barfin' about!

photo courtesy of ellenm1 and Flickr

PART II: Hail Nancy Fulla Grace

After the plane landed in Indianapolis and everyone else got off, 10 medics rushed on board to give me the once over. They were so nice that I didn't have it in my heart to tell them that I was feeling relatively OK. In fact, I wasn't even sure if I was. I didn't know if I was about to explode with the Ebola virus and start bleeding out of my ears and eyes. I was kinda feelin' in the Hot Zone. I got asked more trivia questions ("Who is the President? What is the date?") because I had hit my head. They took my blood pressure, blood sugar, and my address. Whoo, saucy! I probably would have given out my pin code given how vulnerable I was feeling. They were all very nice and all wearing Volunteer EMT sweatshirts. Oh, to be in a helping profession.

They told me going to the hospital would probably be a waste if I just had some sort of bug, but I shouldn't get on my next plane if I had any doubts.

Here were my main doubts. When I got off the plane, another nice man told me I didn't have to get on my next flight, even though I was feeling OKaaaay. Everyone was concerned about me. Then I called my mom from the family bathroom (YESsSs, only one toilet, YEssssSss, some privacy) and then I threw up the rest of my soup.

I hate throwing up. I don't do it often. In fact, I hadn't thrown up for at least 10 years so I try to save it for special occasions. But you know how after you throw up, you feel great. You feel like it's time to go follow your dreams because your body feels so unburdened.

So after the rest of the soup was expunged, I knew what I had to do. Try to change my flight or just talk to someone and tell them how free I was feeling!!! I walked with a sense of purpose from this point on. First I called my MOM again to update her on the situation. It was too early in the morning to be asking for a WebMD version of Phone-a-Parent, but my Dad weighed in as well. He said "Get on that flight!"

Here's what tipped me off. When I got to my gate to talk to the airport lady about my changing flight options, she was throwing up in the trash can. I didn't know this because she just looked like she was bent down getting something out from a drawer, but when I told her, "Excuse me, I am feeling sick, and am not sure whether to get on my flight," she pronounced, "I'M FEELING SICK!" and then ran past me to the bathroom. Decision made.

If I stayed, it was Outbreak all over again minus the commercial breaks. I got on the plane and I willed my stomach into submission. Plus I was still holding my barf bag from before JUST IN CASE. Not because I'm sentimental, how dare you.

Anywhooozle I finally got to where I was going. My ride graciously picked me and I told him my pathetic story and then here's the worst part. When I was finally in my hotel bed thanking the lucky herbal gingko gods, I realized I didn't have my barf bag with me! I left it either on my second flight or even worse, in my ride's car. Nothing says gratitude like regurgitation. Well, only if you're a mother bird.

Lucky for me, the hotel had:

State-of-the-art snoozing facilities

AND

State-of-the-art yarfing facilities

The story has a mostly happy ending. I took a huge nap and then stayed in bed watching Judge Judy and Nancy Grace. Nothing recalibrates your self-pity meter like two roommates in court arguing whether one of them started "drama" or not. Um, ladies, tap, tap, tap, on your brain shoulders, you're in a real-life courtroom drama. NG was even juicier. A pole dancer was being accused of ruining parties by her employer so she had to demonstrate some moves to prove she was, in fact, good at her job.

PERSPECTIVE ain't just an art class on drawing sunsets in the distance.

The Honorable Sass Presiding
photo courtesy of fandayou_0088 and Flickr

UNRELATED VISUAL CODA:

Private club I spotted on my travels whose membership probably includes Lil' Jon

It Was the Best of Signs, It Was the Worst of Signs

2011-02-07T20:03:00.004-05:00

It's signs like this that make me question my very ability to read. You have gone too far this time, arbitrary rulemakers!

Those critters sometimes forget to wash their hand wranglers, but still! Separate restrooms?! Is this where we're at in 2011? You know what, don't even answer.

P.S. Yeah, "facitities," I know. It speaks for titself.

Dogs Shouldn't Beg, But Especially Not During Oscar Season

2011-01-24T22:20:00.005-05:00

Or I will do this...

Hollywood Perspective

2011-01-18T16:54:00.003-05:00

I was walking along feeling sorry for myself in the noonday sun, and then I saw a guy in full Beetlejuice costume & make-up coming the other way looking down on his luck.

And I was like "Ok, ok, you win!"

Actors playing ghosts make the strongest cases for themselves.

This About Sums Me Up

2011-01-16T04:44:00.006-05:00

Some found footage from my past!

Gotta Bun in the Omen

2011-01-14T14:21:00.003-05:00

Yesterday, I said these two things on two separate occasions:

"He's on the other line at the other moment."

"Should I let know her?"

I've obviously started speaking in tongues.

Which led me to create this (Click to zoom zoom pow):

Outlook is poor, but still, guys, I found out the end of days is gonna be a girl! Whooooooooo!!!!

SPAM I Am (I Do Like Green Eggs & Ham If They Are a Euphemism for Ca$h Money)

2011-01-08T03:32:00.005-05:00

Click to get biggie with it, nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh.

Free Spirit for a Quarter

2010-12-24T04:23:00.008-05:00

Anybody who puts their kid on this horse who bolted right down outside the grocery store is asking to be taken for a ride. This fella will take your mind for a real nice trip with his emotional instability. And don't expect any help from his ne'er-do-well friends! Harrumph.

That's the Way the Rookie Rumbles

2010-12-21T15:30:00.004-05:00

So, in conjunction with that ol' article, here is an NPR "Tell Me More" segment I did that aired today!

In case you're wondering, yes, they needed a boom mic to catch all my whispers into the wind.

Even If You Were There, It Still Wouldn't Make Sense

2010-12-21T10:00:00.003-05:00

When I stay up late knitting my brow and Interknotting my self-esteem into a big ball of hyperlinked yarn, the next morning, Gchat boils down to a telling moment.

P.S. This comic is great.

Exposéd

2010-12-17T13:02:00.005-05:00

FYI diplomats, foreign embarrassadors, and Perez Hiltons of the Dorna Star in Galaxy 5B, all my secrets are now available in The Washington Post via profile piece.

Here you go!

Sorry, WikiLeaks, I felt like going the classic route with my bean spilling.

In case you're wondering, no stuffed animals were harmed in the making of the photos. In fact, the camera used was sensitive to light, but also feelings.

Spoiler alert: I live at the end.

Da Mom Diggity

2010-12-11T15:42:00.004-05:00

My mother has a policy of me texting her and my Dad if and when I travel anywhere to let them know of my safe arrival. Totally always trendy in the (immigrant?) parenting world at any age or stage of life. If that means a text when I get to the grocery store that's located on the far side of town, so be it.

They still expect this small and easy task of me even though I no longer live in their house and, in fact, live 3000 miles across the country. It's the least I can do. Really. Just let a motha know!

However, it was much to my surprise and delight that I received a text from mommaroo the other day in this exact vein (not paraphrasing, this is the real deal): "Just landed in Chicago."

Not only did I have no idea my parents were going to Chicago or why, but I had no idea that my mother holds herself to the same high standards that she espouses in me. So I wrote back "It's about time!" to keep the mood light and the sentiments fresh.

P.S. This is my favorite audience for jokes these days. OBVI I use them for bringer shows too. They're not huge drinkers, but they are huge winkers.

State of Sandwich Emergency

2010-12-02T13:25:00.003-05:00

The infrastructure of my veggie sandwich has collapsed, and the streets are running red with Tapatio!!!

There are strands of sprouts everywhere and the onions are rioting in my mouth by using some kind of noxious tear gas.

I am going to have to spend the rest of the day building a hospital out of napkins.

It was the avocados. They wanted too much power. They turn bad so quick. "I hope they're happy."* (*Passive-aggressive statement I made to the press)

I've installed a tomato as an interim ruler in the meantime with some cheese advisors.

We'll cut our losses by investing in an overpriced coffee drink.

This has been a real-time installment of OFFICE LUNCH.

Happy Hollyween!

2010-11-02T15:57:00.000-04:00

There's a first time for everything...ok, two things.

Behold me becoming

A CLOSE-SHOT PUPPARAZZO

A DEAD DOLL

Baby's First Paragraphs

2010-10-27T21:17:00.002-04:00

I now wake up to the sounds of construction and children sowing their wild oats on the playground during recess. Try to package that up, SkyMall!

LA is cute so far (two weeks in, don't hold me to the dates, Yearbook Staff). That's right, cute! I am attempting to control something that is a bunch of question marks right now. I live with a buoyant dachshund-chihuahua (Chiweenie, thanks Google) mix named Charlie (here is an approximation of his infinite adorability factor), and in a house where we watch movies like Re-Animator late at night. I was reunited with my boy-more-than-friend. Hard to find fault as of yet!

Right now, I'm in a coffee shop that is only playing reggae so that is the official new soundtrack to me checking my email. Check back in a few months when I can find my feet. They have gone missing! If anyone sees 'em, just point 'em in my direction and tell 'em to powerwalk it out.

Hoarder in the Court!

2010-10-11T15:31:00.008-04:00

In the case of Need v. Nostalgia related to all the objects in all the piles in my room and me moving out of my parents' house and across the cornfields, I pronounce myself abjectly guilty of a lack of direction and motivation.

Most of this process has involved me looking around the room with my hands on my hips yelling "Someone needs to make some decisions around here!!! Stop adjourning for lunch! Your honor, may I state that you look terrible today."

Plus I lack a cat army to boost my morale in my darkest hour (because I moved my lamp).

Every object actually gets an unfair trial wherein I bring up witnesses, bystanders, standers by, and other objects to testify on its behalf.

Exhibit A: Unopened Gift Soap

"I could use this when I want to evoke that I have class, and find it again in 6 years unopened."

Dial Soap and Assorted Batrillion Travel Soaps say, "You will never finish all of us. It's simple math!"

Exhibit B: 1996 Crossword-Puzzle-a-Day Planner With No Completed Puzzles

"I need to improve my brain speed."

Motivational 2007 Calendar says, "But what about my quotes?! Boost your self-esteem with meeeee instead!"

Exhibit C: A Lock of Baby Hair

"Not even a monster would discard these follicles."

Pink Bunny Baby Toy says, "It's either him or me, man. Him or me."

Don't be fooled by the amount of floor you can see, some of my stuff is lurking in plastic bags, daring me to sort through it. I stripped my bed as a warning to the rest of my room.

And let me just remind everyone that you need to appeal every emotion that is passed while looking at photos you did not realize you still had OH MY GOSH LOOK AT MY HAIR AND FRIENDS.

So basically we're looking at a fairly long sentence with no possibility of parole. I've built this prison bed, now I must lay in it. OW. Get lost, slinky I thought I lost. I'm trying to be an unaccountable grown-up here, and I don't need your whimsy.

Worth a Thousand Heart Crumples

2010-10-07T16:49:00.000-04:00

This dog sums up many of my issues including codependence, separation anxiety, fear of entering a place, fear of commitment, fear of being watched, and fear of fear itself.

Yes, that is my reflection in the window. Let's try to stay focused on the bigger issues here.

The Tooth, the Whole Tooth, and Nothing But the Tooth

2010-10-05T18:34:00.008-04:00

Hear ye! Hear ye! Brace yourselves! A miracle has shown upon this gloriously cloudy Tuesday.

MY TEEF ARE FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE FROM THEIR WIRY ORANGE JUMPSUITS!!!

And lo and behold, the photos are gratuitous and fearsome!

I realized I've perfected a smile over the last four years that involves showing little to no bone so the only way to glamorize these pearly puppies is to show the double trouble of emotions: FEAR and ANGER.

BOOM!

POW!

SMASH!

KA-CHING!

Grillshots with no grillz. The way the dentally uninsured intended.

Basic Maternal Instinct

2010-09-30T18:40:00.000-04:00

My mother doesn't seem to have grasped how to mark a text or email urgent, but she communicates it in her own way.

Subject: Aparna

Body: What time Wednesday. ?????????????????????????????!?

Yes We Canada: Part ONE, All Words

2010-09-23T14:14:00.008-04:00

What's happening, human frappuccinos?

I am in Toronto, Canada for some improv hootenanigans! It involved some B minor hardship getting here.

I have been on so much public transit today that I won an honorary pass to be a crazy person on public transit for the day. And I don't mean explicit crazy, I mean the vacant look you see in the eyes of so-called normals.

The honorary pass is actually just a club promo card that a guy gave to me claiming it was a map for treasure. The treasure is photoshopped lady parts!

First, I took some Big Apple subways starting at 4:45 in the dAyaM. Once I was out in the city's extremities where NYC stores its finest airports, I saw an old woman suddenly collapse on the subway platform across from where I was waiting. Three people immediately jumped into action and helped her up. They also did it with zero fanfare and a thousand percent professionalism. That got my humanity up and at 'em, but I still didn't feel awake. "No comment" from my introspective side.

Then many hours later, I got to the airport and cartwheeled to my gate, I was so behind schedule. Meanwhile at the gate, they had everybody in a holding bin just waiting and waiting, including me when I got there.

Finally, I went to see the counter to see what was up, and the lady grabbed my ticket all "How dare you" and said I was the last person to board the plane. Nobody announces things anymore! Did everyone else get the boarding announcement on Twitter? Who knows. I expected some dirty looks when I got on the plane but the entire stock of yum-yums looked confused about how they got there.

Oh so I took a long morning's nap on the flight. Oh and FY(TM)I, I have developed this habit of sitting on my hands and going to sleep when traveling. I don't know why I do it and it's not very mature, but I do it and nobody gets hurt. Except my job prospects. Yennyway, when I woke up, one of my hands didn't work anymore and I had to CPR it back to life by working through some handshakes and fist pumps.

Plus, I was in Canada and I tried to go through customs with no declaration card. When I asked the guy where to get one, he pointed everywhere. That's how dismayed he was with my stupid U.S. arrogance. I should have just committed and declared myself superior and walked through. Then I went to the money exchange counter and similarly, the lady rolled her eyes around so much, it was like her peepers were those lottery balls in the air tank (the buoyance of annoyance)! But I got my monies, yo.

Then it was close to two and half hours of bus, subway, and streetcar. Triple transit threat! I don't really know how to use bus transfers; I've always preferred subways so sometimes I forget how powerful they can be. I passed through a huge chunk of the gorgeous city and learned all about the bus clique that rules it.

Now the bed and breakfast that I booked that I secretly hoped was a hotel is a little cray-cray: 1) There is one visible power outlet! 2) The bathroom is across the hallway! 3) There is no TV in the room! 4) The Internet adaptor looks like a spaceship! 5) The owner gave me a lesson on Toronto transit and I didn't laugh at the right places when he made jokes! 6) There are hard candies in the lounge! 7) I went with the cold breakfast option instead of the hot one so we could catch more zzzz's. What if I chose wrong?!

That's all for now. I gotta nap or my brain is going to leak out through my split ends, and that's tacky.

Also, if anyone sees my roaming cellphone, tell it I'm not spotting it the money.

P.S. Toronto is super pretty, clean, and pleasing to my senses, the girls are coming soon eeeee, and I'm sleep blogging again. GNITE!

City of Schemes!

2010-09-14T23:58:00.004-04:00

I saw the following on my Tuesday night Manhattan walk home: a well-dressed guy start impromptu dancing, finishing up with a back flip, in the middle of a traffic intersection.

Then, one block later, a human blur on a motorcycle pops a high-speed wheelie down the street.

Gotta respect that a New Yorker's default status is "America's Got Talent audition" at all times. Never not showboating.

"Look Mom! No shame!"

Oh, and look what else I spotted today:

A real bargain bin! No, but really, what happened here? This was right across from a bookstore too. LAZIEST BOOK BURNER EVER.

"I hate books expressing opinions that are not mine, but I also hate fire. What to do?!"

Post-2 a.m. Internet Thoughts

2010-09-09T02:22:00.000-04:00

Accidentally pressing caps lock CAN REALLY WAKE A GIRL UP.

AND SEND HER STRAIGHT TO BED.

This Isn't Your Mom's Go-To Magazine! Oh Wait, It Is.

2010-08-20T18:00:00.001-04:00

Hey, so a discreet, military-trained stealth group of little birds told me that I'm on page 95 in the September issue of Reader's Digest, along with hilarious com(edi)padres John Ramsey and Kellen Erskine.

Hooray! And you thought it was just my slice of life anecdote about Americana. Well, it actually is if you zoom in.

Coming soon to a waiting room near you...

Photo courtesy of John Ramsey, Facebook, and Reader's Digest.

Prolific Rapper Is Not Daunted by Legumes, No Sir!

2010-07-15T16:25:00.006-04:00

Despite all the brilliant wordplay and language razzledazzling, this turns out to be my favorite line from Eminem's song, Not Afraid:

"I'm doin' this for me, so f#$k the world. Feed it beans, it's gassed up"

He still don't give a fart, guys!!! Or maybe he only gives farts now.

I'm on the fence, but either way, impressed.

Upon rereading and closer introspection, if he's feeding more beans to a world that is already gassed up, well, the sky's the limit for this guy. What can't he do?!?!?!

Feelings and Words, Not Necessarily in That Order

2010-07-12T18:30:00.000-04:00

My mom made me throw some of my old troll dolls in the trash yesterday. Now who's the monster!?! I am. Anyway, I am still feeling pretty guilty from that. I hope those poor giblets realize I never stopped believing in them, but for the fact that their hair was getting untenable.

Also I don't think it counts as emotional eating if your food has no expression on its face and neither do you when you eat it, right? Yeah, let's go with that for all future guilt assessments.

I only like to eat chocolate if it's shaped like a remorseless face, emphasis on morsel.

Sometimes I can't stop watching the Bravo TV channel and reading recaps of shows on there (TV recapping has become a most glorious and oft-tested profession in the entertainment biz). Not because it's necessarily enlightening programming, but because it's so over-the-top dramatic.** (smelly footnote)

Some of it is not so relatable:

"Is bye a threat? Like bye-eee?"-Danielle Staub from Real Housewives of New Jersey

Other times, entirely relatable:

"I am not responsible for your experience of my art."-Nao from Work of Art

I also realized recently just how much I love Tom Robbins. He is an author that makes language shimmy so that all of his words are like whirling dervishes on the playground at recess. And he's a notoriously private person, which I immensely respect.

Here is a great quote from him from the book I am reading right now, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues: "Success can eliminate as many options as failure."

This has been all over the place, just like life.

**And ostentatious drama actually makes me quite uncomfortable, not riled up and amused, but that's why I find it so fascinating. I am like a robot studying yoo-man beings. It's also why I have trouble with acting because I don't emote as freely as most of you normals. So regular expression of my psyche feels like a caricature of what I'm supposed to be doing anyway. So when I'm actually faking it, I feel like I'm double acting. Cyborgs unite! We will master this species yet.

Love and Miss You, Buddy

2010-07-08T11:39:00.004-04:00

One-of-a-kind sunshine.(via Facebook)

Planting Seeds of Drought

2010-07-07T17:38:00.009-04:00

An army of these things just came into my office and demanded my water bottle!

*SIZZLE*

In related news, it's hot (in case you didn't realize why your brain was meltin' onto your flippin' face).

(photos courtesy of ModCloth)

Facebook, I Expect More Enabling, Less Backtalk

2010-06-28T13:35:00.010-04:00

At this rate, we'll never get a good tickle going!

Close Encounters of the Teen Kind

2010-06-24T00:54:00.012-04:00

So yestereve, I went to the grocery store because the parentoids are having the kitchen renovated EXTREME MAKEOVER style, minus the fleeting fame and jump cuts!

Fast forward through the product placement, and you will learn that there is no food to be had anywhere in our abode, not even in my college mini-fridge that is now stocked with vague vegetable parcels, and salted packing peanuts (Isn't that right, silverfish squatters, never mind that you are ghost bugs who don't eat anyway?!).

Tangentials aside, I went to the supermarket to root around and forage for some over-processed grubbings. I realized that even if I don't have to track and hunt a box of Cupcake Pebbles with a Nerf gun, I will probably do it anyway.

Unfortunately, what I did not account for, ladybugs and gentleworms of the court, is that..."School's out for the summer! School's out forever!" That terrifying subspecies known as Teenagus Headachus Maximus AKA "still a raging hormone bundle, not yet a shred of rationality" roams the streets willy-nilly for the next few months.

Consequences be darned! It's too late for summer school enrollment and the jails are already full. Invest in sage; burn incense in the fireplace; misalign your chi to throw off the scent; barricade your yoga studio; do what needs to be done for some peace of freaking mind. Because head games are where these rapscallions do their best work, usually in the form of permanent mental damage to your self-esteem without even a blink of conscience.

"Would you prefer to be silently judged now, or five minutes ago?"
photo courtesy of Flickr and angelalachan

Whilst I was trying unsuccessfully to find a simple and classic item known as coffee cake (but here's the catch: in a single serving amount), what should happen but a head-on collision with a shrieking, roving cul-de-sac gang of teenage girls having a midweek slumberfest (they were accompanied by a matriarchal chaperone of some sort, but I could see in her glassy eyes that she was past the point of caring about any collateral damage sustained in a public setting).

Every girl was talking, nay squealing at once, and about anything and everything in the immediate vicinity. This one's nails. The other one's Bumpit. How the croissants "looked like they sucked." (actual quote) The fluorescent lighting's effect on their junior pancake makeup. They were all wearing various forms of whatever something you happen to have had on when you are at an adolescent all-girl sleepover and someone suggests making a snack run, and then everyone loses their minds from sheer excitement before even piling into the minivan. Sweatpants lightly tied, cheerleading tees coordinated, chunky flip-flops donned, and away we go!

Anyhow, no matter how much I engrossed myself in the mini muffin selection, one or more of my five to six senses kept being overwhelmed by the sheer presence of group puberty. Eeeeeee, oooooh, mild hazing, maniacal laughter at too high a sound register, and whispers! Clearly about me, because I immediately regressed back to my 12-year-old self, giant glasses (half empty), waistband of my stirrup pants all the way up to my neck, squeaky sneakers, ears burning constantly, and sense of shame disproportionately advanced for one's lack of world experience. So I grabbed whatever I could get my paws on and hightailed it out of there. Onion flat crisps are dessert tonight!

Oh, too bad, you're not included with this fun and friendship package. Say hello to our backs!
photo courtesy of Flickr and greenmelinda

Alas, victory was not mine. On my way out, two of the girly swirls were proclaiming Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson "so cute" on the cover of US Weekly. I threw a cascade of impulse buy items out of sheer reflex toward the cooing and ran toward the light of the moon outside screaming "Team Jacob, awhooooooooo!" I was a wolf in sheepish clothing! But in self-defense, they drove me to madness despite the fact that most of them don't even have their learner's permits yet. I haven't even read any of the Twilight series nor have I watched the films, but my survival instinct kicked in and I knew what I had to do.

Next time, I'll be ready, live streaming affirmations into my ears and reminding myself to stop mentally shadowboxing with my past. But, if you need me in the meantime, I'll be yelling at my middle school yearbook accompanied by the soundtrack of Rudy. Flat crisp, anyone?

"Memories light the corners of our lives!"
photo courtesy of Flickr and raymaclean

Stop Everything! Hold the Phones to Call Your Loved Ones!

2010-06-21T00:11:00.005-04:00

Hopefully, they are smartphones because everyone needs to see this NOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWieeeeeeeeeeeee wowwwwwwieeee zozozozoozozozowieeeeee.

You Will Never Experience Happiness Like This.

One day, I will post diary entries to spiritual entities again, but for now, let's worship baked goods and pan zooms!

My brain would like to spoon with this animated gif(t).

Oh Baby Baby

2010-06-04T18:00:00.000-04:00

See more funny videos and TBT Videos at Today's Big Thing.

More like "Baby Makes Compelling Argument FOR MY HEART AND OVARIES."

This little tyke left the courtroom baffled as she was clearly guilty but the high-pitched cadence of her argument left everyone hypnotized. Plus meting out a sentence of 25 to 30 naps seems harsh for the formative years.

I also like how the older brother witness steps in (at 0:59) to re-establish his distance from the crime in question. CLASSIC.

The unclipped onesie flaps (first visible at 0:42) and the sincerely apologetic dance break (starts at 2:00) really pushed this thing over the edge for me.

This baby could only be held in contempt by a jury of stuffed animal peers for being too outspoken. All other charges dropped! Case dismissed via gooey floating cloud-shaped balloons!

Quiet Reflection

2010-05-19T12:26:00.005-04:00

Ok, time to fess up. So the last video I posted was pretty much a scary hallucinogenic trip, especially at the end (to be fair, I was on a trip when I posted it...FOR BUSINESS, NOT DRUGS, sheesh). Anyhoopla, I am going to lighten up the mood with some visual meditation in the form of sundry puppies playing with the gentle lilting overlay of some relaxation music. This video takes itself pretty seriously, and I dig that about it.

Internet, You've Done It Again!

2010-05-15T18:00:00.003-04:00

Hey, guess what?!?!? Rhetorical question! But, guess what ELSE?! The web chalks up another win. This makes up for the 40,000+ dead-end results I get whenever I am doing overly subjective and vague Google searches (a la "the smiling purse jingle alligator concealer." Google queries "Did you mean Bing?").

Without further ado and with much to do, I bring you...(Spoiler Buzzkill Warning: It gets freaky at 3:00 when everyone starts melting, but the first half and some is downright whimsical.)

(P.s.S.t. The original vid for this song is saucy awesome too. NOT to mention this gosh darn goodness!)

ANDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Teddy Bear Tours (via doodling dynamo Alex B.)

What?! All my dreams came true in one day! How so exactly?! I'll show-n-tell you!

TA-DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! In for the unbelievable close-up!

I need a week staycation to work out all the joy the mere fact that these two things exist caused in my yoo-man being.

Start Playing Games With My Heart! Leave My Brain Out of It!

2010-05-12T18:30:00.001-04:00

Here is a one-time-only game that I play sometimes. It is ultimately pointless and extremely specific, but highly enjoyable in the mome (new slang for moment).

I take the only two movies that I can quote: Home Alone and Jurassic Park.

Then I have sporadic mini-conversations in my head that go like this!

1.

JP: Hold onto your butts!

HA: I made my family disappear!

JP: He left us! He left us! But that's not what I'm gonna do.

2.

HA: Buzz! Your girlfriend! Woof!!!

JP: Shoot 'er! Shoot 'er!

HA: Keep tha change, you filthy animal!

3.

JP: Clever guhl. *mime being torn apart by a velociraptor*

HA: Look what ya did, you little jerk!

That's it! That's the game!!! Nobody won, nobody lost, and nobody cheated, but everybody FEELS cheated. And that's really all that matters.

P.S. FRAKIN' ORMSOME Inner-view with Conan the O'Barian!!!

MORE BRIDGETOWN, PLEASE!

2010-05-07T13:11:00.002-04:00

*Gulp, Gulp....BURP* And beat.

Here is a Bridgetown Comedy Festival recap I did for The Apiary.

Tenkoo and good afternoon!

What Dreams May Comedy: Return to Bridgetown

2010-04-27T12:08:00.021-04:00

(Please forgive the grainy crime photo texture of my cellphone documentation, or sue me [the expression, not really]).

OHhhhhhhHHhhhhhhh Boyardee!!! Chef's hat tips and scrumptious tongue smacks all around to the deliciousness of it all. Last week, I went to the 2010 Bridgetown Comedy Festival in my favorite city, Portland, Oregon! Note it so that if I ever forget what I want in life, you can airdrop me onto one of the gorgeous mountains out there and I can hipster bicycle my way back into modern civilization wearing a beard and a crooked smile!

YUM PORTLAND KNOWS COFFAY!!!

I saw the sign! My eyes were already open (that's how I saw the sign)!

So much stuff happened in four days that I am having trouble word processing it onto a screen, fitting letters neatly into a box. But hey, welcome back to society, AMIRITE?! No, wrong. I am tired and still operating in the wrong time zone, and angering the people who make sure zoning codes are upheld.

Still! What a Bestival of Laughs on the Best Coast! Lemme say something right quick about Portland. Everything is green there. It's all clean there. There's no tax there. Their public transit is nice enough that you would just happily ride it around with no clear destination in mind; they even have bike hangers in the rail cars just like meat hooks for bikes. The food and brews are through the roof and to the moon, especially for veggieheads. The people are friendly as they come. And they larfed 'n snarfed at my jokes. I don't even know what else to say except to recount a myriad 'mazing moments. (I belong to the alliterati!)

The hotel was something else entirely. No, surriously. The alarm clock next to the bed played ocean sounds to soothe you to sleep and the alarm clock went from soft to loud in the morning to gently beckon you back into a conscious state!

This was the bed next to said clock!

This was the view from the elevator. Mind if we just throw all our art on this table (phone included), which is resting on a gorgeous giant wicker framework? Wheeeehooo!

Let's take a gander at summa dat memory awesomeness.

I went on a walking tour of downtown Portland with a bunch of comics. We are not morning people. Everyone was holding giant cups of coffee and blinking profusely into their sunglasses. Maybe some hangovers were involved. Actually, back up. I showed up late and the group had, in fact, already left, and when I got down to the hotel lobby, the desk clerk said "THEY WENT THATTA WAY!" and then I powerwalked up the street until I caught up and assimilated. One of the other comics did think I was an imposter at one point though. Scandal!

This was our tour guide Donna! She had an adjustable headset for volume control.

We saw even more signs! And learned interesting facts like how Portland was almost named Boston if a coin flip had gone a different way.

And a cool glass reflecty ceiling (technical term) in a Performing Arts Center.

Here, witness Chip Pope and Maria Bamford (Eee! She's the best!) sliding down the railing of a courthouse. Getaway tactics!

Then everyone went to a free afternoon of video games at Ground Kontrol, but I opted out because I am not a huge gamer. Not a great excuse, especially since I also missed the Strip Club Brunch Tour. Oops! I can feel the judgment from here. I also may have poorly attended some of the afterparties. Introversion powers activate! I went to one though. Gimme a prize. Let the prize be quiet!

But the shows, oh joys. There were so many outta-this-universe shows. The Thursday night Preview show (including Maria Bamford, Matt Braunger, Morgan Murphy, Chip Pope, Rory Scovel, Brooke van Poppelen) and the Sunday night Closing shows were so packed with potent talent (with surprise guests like Greg Behrendt, T.J. Miller, Hannibal Buress, and Baron Vaughn), but then the in-betweeners were also like WHATTT. Also HUH and WHAO. Basically, everything happened, and then nothing happened (those were the times when I was asleep)!!!

Brody Stevens hosting the closing show! He was in the greatest R-rated comedy of all time!

Some other talented body who I can't even identify!

I saw Iron Comic, which was a late-night contest where several comedians are bidden to write on a topic at random drawn from a hat and brainstormed by the audience beforehand, and then after three rounds, the two top scorers battle it out in a lightning round. The line-up alone was insane: Morgan Murphy, Maria Bamford, Tig Notaro, Alex Koll, and Kyle Kinane, with Moshe Kasher and Nato Green hosting! In case you're curious, Kyle Kinane was the champ, but everyone was hecka entertaining. Some of the topics drawn were "too much coffee" and "lava."

Contender Alex Koll is up to bat.

Morgan Murphy riffing away.

In fact, here is Kinane at another show I watched in which he had to disband an enthusiastic volley of dreckles (drunk what-the-heckles)!

I saw Myq Kaplan's West Coast CD Release Party! Lots of guffaws there. All the people in my photos look like ghosts.

Alex Koll is so inventive and great. I got to see him a couple different times, and I loved all of the times!

Brooke van Poppelen is also the funniest! She knows how it's done.

Rylee Newton had this genius semi-deadpan that I could've listened to for hours.

And the man of the evening himself, Mr. Myq Kaplan, did not disappoint!

I also saw bits and pieces of the two running improv shows, ASSSCAT (with Tim Meadows, Brett Gelman, Matt Besser, Matt Walsh, John Gemberling, and Sean Conroy) and Theme Park (with Scott Adsit, Danny Pudi, Oscar Nunez, Janet Varney, Jessica Makinson, and Cole Stratton).

ASSSCAT! It's just fun to say!

I also saw a taping of Live Wire Radio in the beeyooteeful Baghdad Theater, which was this great three-hour long variety show, including poems, radio sketches, comedy segments, interviews, and music. Through it, I discovered an amazing band called Sallie Ford and the Sound Outside.

This theater gets it.

Finally, the last night, I also saw the movie debut of Jordan Vogt-Roberts'Successful Alcoholics starring T.J. Miller and Lizzy Caplan, followed by a Q&A, more like Q&YAY!!!

Boyfie and I also discovered the World's Largest Cowbell during our travels.

I also ran into some friends of mine. We go way back.

So a lot happened (some of it I didn't even talk about! Oops!) and I just spit it into a blog with very little coherence or organization. But really it was just a supervondoopertroopergreattime and I am extra jazzercized that I got to be a part of it.

Since my photos hahahardly count, real brilliants pic-oh-sures by Karylee Harrison and m. berru are viewable here and here, respectively.

Star Candidate Is a Nice Way of Saying Space Cadet

2010-04-19T19:00:00.000-04:00

I would list "depression" as one of my strengths for a hypothetical (high-pathetical?) job interview. For weaknesses, I would say "pills."

(They'd cancel each other out, as well as my prospects!)

Then when they ask me to talk about a time I figured my way out of a difficult situation, I'd say "Sure, I'll show you" as I scoot on outta there!

Also, why does Monster.com only have job openings for night positions that are under beds and in closets?!

THANK YA! GOOD NIGHT!

courtesy of ICanHazCheezburger.com

No Camman Is an Island

2010-04-09T18:30:00.002-04:00

The word CAMMAN is beautiful, versatile, and a gift to the lexicon.

If I could go back in time and replace all uses of "come on" and "c'mon" with "camman," I would do it! No rhetorical questions asked!

But for now, I will just use three pop culture examples:

"CE-LE-BRATE GOOD TIMES, CAMMAN!!!" You take a seemingly feel-good line and make it sarcastic. Perfection.

Or try this one on for size.

"CAMMAN people now,
smile on your brother, ev'ry-body get together, try to love one another right now." You take good-natured hippie sentiment and make it sound snarky. Ideal.

Finally, if Common the rapper/actor changed his name to Camman, he'd get even more mad respect. That's all I'm saying here, people!

Soapbox dismount! And she sticks it! THE CROWD GOES MILD!!!

No Joke

2010-04-01T12:30:00.000-04:00

Happy April Fool's Day & Census Day! Make every prank count!

My friend Hillary sent me the following photo today. It's quite definitively the best photo I've ever seen in my life. I mean, I thought I've seen before. But no, this is it. My eyes can pretty much retire and live a life of leisure from here on out. GOOGLY EYES and BREAKFAST FOODS. COME ON. JUST COME ON. It might as well be my birthday minus the self-reflective angst.

(via FFFOUND! quoted from Glass Horse Heart)

I Am Not Down With the Sickness

2010-03-31T18:00:00.005-04:00

I have had some sort of head, nose, and throat bug for the last three days, and guess what? I am being a real double baby about it. Yeah, exactly.

Throw yourself an anti-surprise party because the revelation is anything but one. Oh, might I mention that one of my symptoms is lack of general amusement by anything and anyone? Oh wait, this still managed to tickle me. But it involved someone crying. That's where I'm at right now.

The truth is when my body suffers even the slightest of unscheduled malaise (so no, somehow double surgeries did not have the same effect on me because I was given a warning), I go into ultimate self-pity mode. This manifests itself through the following behaviors: talking to my stuffed animals, making a cocoon out of my blanket, and hoarding napkins and tissues. I seem to be obsessed with softness and comfort. The Snuggle Bear is wise to stay far, far away. I also enjoy mashed, warm foods during these times. If I could eat a mildly seasoned pillow, I would.

This dog is hard up for soft.
photo courtesy of Flickr and dregsplod

As with most mysterious seasonal ailments, mine has been cycling through some phases of symptoms. Phase 1 was sore throat, post-nasal drip, head congestion, and general fatigue. We trundled ahead into Phase 2 yesterday, which was cough (racking during sleepy times), body aches, and mouth soreness (due to braces getting tightened, but it didn't help, nosirree). Today marks the debut of Phase 3: persistent cough, occasional sneezing, body aches, runny nose, and fatigue.

HELLO! I HAVE A LIFE!!!

Body, hang in there.*

Bug inside body, please check out by noon tomorrow.**

*Specifically come don a Snuggie and relax by electric candlelight*** in a hot tub full of cotton balls.

**You will not be surcharged for the fact that you left your room a holy mess, including totally disrupting the interior decoration scheme and utterly ravaging the minibar.

***Fire is not something I feel capable of dealing with right now.

Glamwich 2: State of the Bread Union

2010-03-25T17:00:00.001-04:00

So yesterday's samwich was such a hit that I had my people tell Daddums to make me another one!

Unfortunately, we were out of spinach. But that never stopped a kitchen magnate! When in doubt, add cheese.

My favorite part about Dabble's sandwiches is he always employs the highest security measures in protecting their artistic underbellies, as if after all that hard work, to have them damaged or disturbed in some way by a lazy, uninspired criminal would be unconscionable.

Please witness the levels:

Level 1: Note the note! It has my name on it so that anybody who pillages the office fridge will know that this edible rectangle belongs to not just anybody, but SOMEBODY!!!

Above and beyond that, the note is written in pink highlighter. When you want to highlight words of import, you utilize one of these bad boys. But when you want to flat out make a statement, you just straight up write it in highlighter.

Level 2: Shrink wrap. Even mind games dare not enter here! Full surface area: We got it covered!

Level 3: Rubber bandits! One runs lengthwise and one runs horizontally. A window into an impenetrable fortress of calories!

Level 4: We made it past the elastics, but what's this?! Wax paper? How profound! "My motivation to filch this masterpiece is waning," thinks the unmotivated robber.

Level 5: The diagonal cut! While many think of this maneuver as purely aesthetic, little do they know that even the noodliest head brain behind an operation can't fathom his treasure being maimed in any way! A scar right down the middle? Crime game over!!! Blame game is just starting though.

Level 5.1: Not really a level, but I ate half so we don't have to worry about the double safety measures anymore!

Level 5.2: Man, I am doing a great job looking out for this lil' guy!

Level 5.3: Well, case closed, gumshoes! It was an open-and-shut incident of deliciousness with intent to gastronomically dazzle.

Level 5.4: And that's a saran wrap, folks!

P.S. I love Jezebel's Pie v. Cake March Madness bracket so much!!!

Normally, Internet trashtalking is one of my least favorite things, but how can you resist this poetry?

"This weekend, my husband was yapping excitedly about key lime pie's chances in pie vs cake. I was uncharacteristically silent. He slowly turned to me and said softly with dawning awareness, "You're on Team Cake, aren't you."

I swear he was watching a montage in his head of all of the moments in the last five years he's seen me eating cake, set to something like A Whiter Shade of Pale or Dust in the Wind. It was a real Hitchcock moment for him." (via funzette)

OR

"Who put pumpkin and lemon meringue in the same bracket? This is like Sophie's Choice for me. I hate you guys." (via jenrobe)

P.P.S. On the very subject of delectables, both my parents seem to enjoy pleasantly personalizing their food packaging styles. For instance, here was a box of cupcakes my Mother presented to me the other week. She herself added all the smiley visages. Due to the lighting, they take on a ghastly air, scrumptiousness factor notwithstanding.

Glamwich

2010-03-24T12:00:00.000-04:00

The sammich my dad made me for lunch today was so delicious that it reminded me just how charmed exactly my life is!

The ratio and resulting surface area of condiment to bread is an underutilized art form.

I am still burping up memories of it.

In fact, a Google image search can't even be considered under such epiphanic, post-euphoric circumstances.

Here's a sketchy attempt to recapture the past though:

Reality check me out!

Impulse Sleep & Fire Eyes

2010-03-19T20:00:00.000-04:00

So I bought this sleep CD in line at Rite Aid a few days ago along with some generic Tylenol because when I go to drug stores, I can't buy just one thing. Not when there are so many useful things sitting around! I can't stop. Don't judge me. I saw it, I thought "Oh, a night of peace and solitude!", and I instinctively went for my savings card.

Except that I don't have a Rite Aid savings card at Rite Aid, only one for CVS. But guess what?! I bought it anyway!!! That is the kind of pathological behavior I exhibit given the right fluorescent-lit, consumer-driven atmosphere.

I saw it as a Baby Mozart for adults. Maybe there's something to these fads. That is, I listen to it and not only do I sleep better but I get smarter and more eloquent. Then, after I have that under my belt, I start reaping other benefits like people telling me my hair smells good and I stop being late to everything all the time. This is usually the logic spiral I employ to justify the most ridiculous purchase to myself, which is usually just the newest line of chapgloss. Either way. But still, I was excited. It said something about clinical testing for use with soldiers on the back. I like order! I could use some discipline with my snooze-hitting schedule! I like military corners on my bed!

So I tried it out, and guess what? I settled in, I listened, I grumbled. The ocean noises were nice and they segued into the loveliest non-threatening new age music, but my mind goes a mile a minute (no time for conversions!). So I just started imagining what kind of ocean it was and what types of characters in a movie would exist for a new age soundtrack and it kept me up for quite a bit.

I need to buy some old-school lullabies. Rockabye Bebby instrumental, and maybe something a little less evocative. I could have just dealt with some sleep affirmations: "You've got the prettiest snore," "Your nose curls upward when you snooze," "You're a go-getter, and you're gettin' that rest!" Things of that nature.

Also, I already tweeted about the above and the below but sometimes things beg for more elucidation than 140 characters. I have no shame in that.

I went to the ophthalmologist (spelling that counts as a brag) yesterday and this was what met my eyes.

A flat-screen fireplace at eye level! First of all, it's Spring. Second of all, why is it trying to be a dreamy pizza oven in a waiting room? Regardless, I was entranced and didn't bother helping myself to any of the enticing magazines or free email access. Begrudgingly, I almost see the point. Fire is fire. Humanity is impressed. Prometheus still got it!

Improv, Shmimprov, Second City, Schmecond...Wait, WHAT?!

2010-03-18T18:00:00.003-04:00

Here is a linkadoo to an interview I recently did with Second City Touring Company member and performer extraordinaire, Brook Bagnall.

Fair Warning: This interview might make you crave some improv. OH GOOD I HAVE A SOLUTION FOR YOU. YOU CAME TO THE RIGHT PLACE. (I implore you to stop reading if you aren't local to the Nation's Capital. Sorry for the vicynicism.)

Come to THIS SHOW (FRI @ 9:30pm) or THIS SHOW (SAT @ 11pm) where I am performing this weekend. I also will be performing there other weekends, but this one feels more important than those other distant poser weekends. They are so far off, they shouldn't even count as weekends. Just like Pluto got disowned as a planet, they will follow suit as weekends.

Please attend because these shows are funny and you will laugh your pants off, and no one will even mind. If you aren't wearing pants, your make-believe pants will fall off, which is just as memorable and twice as sexy.

I can also promise you some candy.

Farewell belch!

Also, here is a burrito and puppy in quick succession as requested, you insatiable monsters of multimedia content!!!

photo courtesy of Flickr and sweetonveg

photo courtesy of Flickr and wsilver

College Ruled, Eyeball Drooled, and Car Salesman Schooled

2010-03-14T23:00:00.003-04:00

This post is beyond-asking-for-an-extension-on-an-extension late, but I am very busy right now so froggy readers on your lily iPads, please stop flicking your tongues at me and jumpin' around. Speaking of which, this epic's gonna be all over the place. BECAUSE THAT'S HOW LIFE WORKS.

Item Uno: Hallowed Halls Make for Historical Heckles

Two weekends ago, Hampton and I did a show at an eating club at Princeton University.

The main point I wanted to share from this experience is that, in the middle of my set, I was heckled in the form of a Ronald Reagan chant that went on for about 20 seconds. Can check that off my list of Never Have I Ever, but seriously, the audience was very jovial, obviously smart, and fun. I swear I even saw Blair Waldorf in the crowd.

Also here were some photos I captured in the ornate mansion where we performed. One is of graceful alum Jimmy Stewart in theater garb and the other is an old class photo. We were performing somewhere that clearly had a past! I felt accomplished simply by association.

Item Dos: Bloody Tears and Sweat

Nextly, I got a minor procedure on my eyelid at the hospital on Friday, which deserves another surgery saga recap, because I've set an arbitrary standard. Since JAWS was aptly named after a terrifying movie, I'll call this one SAW.

Yes, I know what you're judgmentally thinking. 2010 is the Year of the Scalpel! Or scal-pal rather, as it's proven to be my friend. An even truer friend stabs you in the face.

This was in a different hospital than my other surgery and what a difference location, location, location can makka-makka-make. DJ Realtor in the house! Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeee/max!

The place was so busy, my mother appropriately remarked that it looked like a train station. The waiting rooms were stacked and packed with wheelchairs, family members, and old people wearing groovy cataract sunglasses and being adorable. Plus we showed up late and it felt like when you roll into the airport pushing the clock and the security line is far, far too long and you're sure you'll miss your flight.

Luckily, there was order within the chaos, and eventually, I found myself sitting in what looked like an old-fashioned armchair in the corner of a busy pre-op eye surgery prep room with a blanket to insulate my boots and flannel shirt. I was told the surgeon would sally on through any moment now.

They said I could keep all my regular clothes on for eye surgery and the only gear I got was a cloud hat, which felt very surreal. I felt like I was in a dream where nothing is quite up to code on the reality meter. A nurse did start an IV for me, after which I was convinced I wouldn't be sent home. Not with the well-attended party underway!

I was finally wheeled into the O.R. where I got some conscious sedation and local anesthesia so I conked out for a bit (when you're still in your street clothes, it kinda feels like a crime), but then I woke up for some of the surgery and heard various instructions on how and where to pull my eye flap. It was like a personalized interactive radio show.

Back in the recovery room, the nurse was regaling my mom with some aftercare instructions, and then I said, "I feel dizzy" and then they both go "Oh, that's normal" and then I passed out LIKE A REAL DRAMA QUEEN. And then I revived slightly to hear everyone running around saying my lips looked gray and I was suddenly sweaty despite the cold temperatures. That's a cozy feeling.

All's well that ends well. After a car ride home in which I almost yarfed all over everything, I arrived home sweet home where I could document my tears of blood in peace. You see, that's where the real fun starts.

My eye was super uncomfy and stingy the rest of the day because there were some stitches on the inside of my eyelid. Plus my eye was bloodshot (probably had been drinking while I was under) and was belligerent at what I had put it through. Sleep it off, Grampa!

But the next morning, I woke up to a oozy, weepy, apocalyptic eye, which needs to be documented. Don't look if you don't like the wonders of medicine, or are easily disgusted with gratuitous cellphone pics. Look out, webcam hotties!

Someone took the red eye home!

Oh, don't cry! It's only your face period.

Anyway, don't worry. I've been wearing an eye patch around lately, mostly to keep the antibiotic ointment in, but also to keep the villagers with the pitchforks out.

GLAMOR CRONE PICS

Reporting for spells duty!

What? Take off my glasses? Oh, sure. I got time.

Feeling shy, eye do declare.

Oh, ok. If you must see the eyePad.

Finally seeing my true colors...

...but starting to like what I see!

Thanks for seeing (and staying) eye-to-eye on this with me!

This is the part where I do the big REVEAL...

...which leads to the big REVILE.

Time for a close-up!

Oh, the tales Grampa Eye could tell you! The things he's seen!

Item Tres: Car Shop Til' Your Eye Drops

This afternoon, my Dad and I went car shopping. It was fun to gauge the reactions of car salespeople to my eyePad. I think some of them feared it was driving-related, and here I was, trying to pull another fast one by attempting to buy a vehicle from right under their noses. The optic nerve of it all!

This one salesman wouldn't stop talking from the moment he met us to when we said goodbye. He was talking up this car a mile a minute (his selling floor nickname is Motormouth), and the best part was that if you listened closely to him, nothing he said was a complete thought. He would just start ideas and then segue into other ideas but never finish a sentence. But nonstop! He was a machine! Also one of his eyes had a glassier shine to it than the other one so I felt an irrational partnership with him.

Also we looked at a car that has a small lever on the inside of the trunk so that if someone throws you in the trunk, you can pop the latch and run to safety. My favorite was the little diagram that explained this USING NO WORDS.

In conclusion, this entry has brought to you by the concept of whimsy.

WIT! FIST! WIT! FIST! WIT! FIST! Get It?!

2010-03-04T12:16:00.005-05:00

photo courtesy of Washington Improv Theater

Hello! Today marks the start of Washington Improv Theater's 2010 FIGHTING IMPROV SMACKDOWN TOURNAMENT, affectionately known on the street as FIST.

This year, 44 teams comprising 132 improvisers in total will be competing for a chance at the glory that is the title of FIST 2010 champion.

You are loudly inquiring with your eyes and eyebrow spasms, "How is Aparna involved and why do I care?"

As it so happens, well-meaning but impatient reader, I am co-commissioning the tournament this year with my esteemed cohort, Kat Davis. Read more about us here.

Anyhoodeehoo, that means I will be at pretty much every match telling you things and smiling and spinning the wheel of Fate like a host on an ancient Greek game show. So come to one, two, or a thousand shows. Here is the schedule!

Also, please check out my troupes Jinx and Jackie, who will be performing for the next six weekends as well. Keep your pants on, please. I KNOW it's great news!

In funclusion, here is a picture of my dad who was wearing my FIST 2009 t-shirt this morning for no apparent reason except the looneyverse told him to do it in support. Also yes, we share clothes. I hope that doesn't put you off.

Imploding Stress Hiccup Leads to Adorably Tiny Supernova

2010-03-02T15:00:00.002-05:00

Cutest supernovahhhh EVAHHHHHH
original photo courtesy of Wikipedia

Sometimes I feel like everybody is caught up in the mundane intensity of life and I am the person in the movie going "DON'T YOU SEE THE ROCKET IS GONNA EXPLODE?!!? IS ANYBODY LISTENING?! HELOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO [sic]." And meanwhile people can't get over how sharp the new control panels look in dispatch.

Actually, yesterday I was complaining about people complaining and being too negative. Today I am complaining about people being too positive. I guess I just like to sit and play devil's food cake advocate and emotionally gobble up logic flies in my web of lies.

Mostly, I want a Rip Van Winkle nap in which I wake up and have a beard and none of my problems are even relevant anymore.

Over and out, comrades.

P.S. This song has valuable, timely advice and a ridiculously cool video though. Note it!

A Moment of Self-Sloathing

2010-02-24T01:54:00.008-05:00

You want out of focus?! You got it!

photo courtesy of Flickr and weishengg

I have finally gotten it into my thick styrofoam skull that my work ethic is corrupt.

I procrastinate with the steadfast discipline and focus of an ascetic. I have the hands of a manual laborer from surfing the Internet so tirelessly, an obsessive Googler's "tan" (the joke is it's more of an anti-tan), and a flappable brow sweat from my consistent ability to flourish in the realm of avoidance.

At any moment, someone is going to kick down the door and say, "The jig is up, Nanchy! Come out with your wrists at ease* and your conscience full of half-baked regrets** doing the woulda-coulda-shoulda shimmy."

*Which really shouldn't be a problem because I already threw one of my wrists out tonight from excessive web browsing.

**Yeah, you read right. I can't even follow through with my misshapen guilt.

Anyway, after serving myself up some Olympics viewing, I think I know what I'm missing. A double endorsement deal for La-Z-Boy sofas and one-a-day motivational calendars. Oh, and let's throw in the best of intentions gone awry while we're still listing things.

(Why not sleep this one off?! Because I can never sleep! Not when there's important stuff during which I must doze off the next day! Atcher service! *Wide-eyed leer and jagged bow*)

Smiles to Go Before I Weep

2010-02-16T19:30:00.000-05:00

photo courtesy of Flickr and cygnus921

Today I am feeling fatefully grateful. Warm feeling in tummy and arms outstretched and ready to hug things. I had a wonderful weekend at the stand up portion of the 2010 North Carolina Comedy Arts Festival in Carrboro. The audiences were extremely welcoming, and the other comics were so nice, and there were reunions with old friends and meetings with new friends from all kinds of cities plus lots of easily accessible tasty treats like grocery store sushi, unexpected omelets, and hotel bedside chocolates! I was lucky enough to get to work with Eddie Brill, the booker for Letterman, who is very nice in person, as well as veteran comics John Betz Jr. and Mike MacRae. So I was pretty much walking on clouds with star goggles for most of the time.

In case you think my head has become too fluffy from all that marshmallowy goodness, it was only fitting that my first show back in D.C. was a too-cozy-to-be-trusted Valentine's Day crowd that bored burning apathy holes into my eyes and skin proportionate to how much they did not care for my act. Joke's on them though because that made the weekend seem that much sweeter by comparison.

I am going back there this weekend for the improv portion. Hup hoop. Somebody pinch me, I must be road trippin'.

Vid N' Play: Snow What I Mean

2010-02-10T19:15:00.002-05:00

Here is a quick, fun seasonal video I cobbled together starring the timeless comedy stylings of Hampton!

Suddenly Every Bot's an Artist

2010-02-09T19:00:00.003-05:00

Here is my latest SPAM message, from one Wilburn Farmer whose email address actually starts with Deann. No judgment here!

Subject: Hi

Moo Cow, Moo cow
Moo cow, moo cow,
How do you do, cow?
Very well, thank you,
Moo, moo, moo.
Two Little Birds Sitting On a Wall
Two little birds
Sitting on a wall,
One called Peter,
One called Paul.
Fly away Peter,
Fly away Paul,
Come back Peter,
Come back Paul.
Ladybird, Ladybird
Ladybird, Ladybird,
Fly away home,
Your house is on fire,
Your children all gone.
This Little Pig
This little pig went to market,
This little pig stayed at home,
This little pig had roast beef,
This little pig had none,
And this little pig went wee, wee, wee,
All the way home.

This little pig had roast beef,
Your children all gone.
Your house is on fire,

Bonus points for no apparent motive except spreading poetry and goodwill. Actually, scratch goodwill. It ends on a downright sinister note. But art's job is not to be mushy cushy feel-good. Art's job is to make you feel something. I felt something, and no, it wasn't my mouse zooming toward the Delete option.

It's a veritable Mother Goose montage plus an incendiary commentary on the 21st century geopolitical landscape.

Ahem.

Isn't everything though?

P.s.S.t. This could also be constituted as semi-plagiarism but that is a pretty searing accusation for age-old rhyme and I couldn't find any of this verse in its entirety after a cursory Google search. Let sleeping algorithms lie.

My Telecommute This Morning Was a Nightmare!

2010-02-08T13:45:00.002-05:00

Working from home means your boss is inside your head, which is a tricky place for a boss to be.

Snowbody Snows the Snowbles* I've Seen

2010-02-07T23:50:00.002-05:00

*Snowbles aren't negative as much as snow-induced.

Let's quickly review.

Friday, it started snowing and I took a ghost train (i.e., empty 'cept for me) home from work to my sequestered cabin in suburbia.

Ghost train! Boo! Scary!

Saturday, I did two shoveling shifts until the piles were as high as I was. The entire neighborhood was out and chipping at their individual piles. We live on a hill so our pile put other people's piles to shame. Not that it's a contest, but we won.

I noticed my shoveling style involves pausing between every scoop to introspect on my direction, purpose, and progress in life. I wish I was joking. It's called Kierkegaard's Big Picture Method of Shoveling.

Sunday, I did one shoveling shift and did some snow drawings in case any weary travelers lost their way and needed to find signs of civilization (and were too delirious to notice the house, car, garage, or driveway).

The abominable snowman's crotch is messed up. I'm sorry about that.

Other than that, I've been undergoing a wholesome regimen of consuming literature and film and Internet and gourmet refrigerator delights such as a courtesy sweet potato loaf of bread from our neighbor because my mom helped her shovel her driveway (It's getting extremely Little House on the Prairie in these parts).

My parents and I have been hobbling around like arthritic hobbits because of shoveling rheumatism, occasionally pausing to vacuum or do a load of laundry or dishes. Ours is an industrious society.

Tomorrow, my physical work office is closed, but the virtual office is open. Hello? The future? I'm just returning your call!

This has been a vague but timely synopsis. Toodle loo!

30 Days of Progress(o Soup)

2010-02-04T19:00:00.001-05:00

So I had my one month check-up with my oral surgeon today, and lots of check pluses and smiley faces with properly aligned smiles all over my report card.

No, but seriously, he said everything is looking "very, very good" and that is despite the fact that soup is dripping down my chin right now.

I did share with him (and now, with you) that I'm having some mild headaches and slight earaches from clenching my jaw in my sleep so he told me to "teach myself to stop clenching. It's bad for the muscles." Didja hear that? Wisdom for the ages, everyone! Stop clenching! And stop letting your minds go below the belt and into the gutter.

Also, Dr. Surgeon taped my thank you card right outside his office for all to see and fear. Z'oh my WHAO. Talk about a resounding endorsement! My swollen post-surgical mugshot has now become the equivalent of a Variety testimonial on a Broadway billboard. I am the face of maxillofacial change. YES WE CAN-OPENER (for the soups).

Finally, Dr. Surgeon took some glamour shots of me before we wrapped up (for his lookbook I'm sure). I get to be one of the success stories (famous last brags)! But sadly, in the one where he told me to smile, he had to coach me to "show a little teeth," and I think it very quickly turned into a primate expressing rage.

photo courtesy of Flickr and ianduffy

I can now add mouth model to my resume.

Dear Dr. Surgeon, thanks for the glam-ories!
photo courtesy of Flickr and King Chimp (Soon to be Riley Bobs)

Party Logic

2010-02-03T18:00:00.001-05:00

Hey! We just had an banana split ice cream party at work!

I think I figured out a way to balance out the ice cream.

Before you start writing complaint letters, I was gifted these nanners by an important work official (title redacted to protect the kindness of others' hearts). Sometimes jaw surgery gets you things. So step off!

P.S. To be fair, when I tried to serve myself some caramel syrup, it burped into my hair so something good was bound to happen after that sugar ambush.

The Road Less Filmed

2010-02-02T18:00:00.002-05:00

My parents recently had an ant infestation in their kitchen. It is winter, and according to this story, the ant is the master of being prepared, which includes relocating into a house.

Anyway, the sad truth is the exterminator (unfortunately, not a young Uncle Jesse from Full House) came recently to help rid us of the ants. I didn't inquire as to his methodology, but it eventually worked.

But then yesterday, I saw a solitary ant! (Brave black blob below.)

And then I saw the first ant bumping into another ant! (Second brave black blob below.)

It dawned on me that these hearty buggers are now experiencing their world in a very The Road meets The Book of Eli meets I Am Legend sort of post-apocalyptic wasteland way.

Goshspeed, comrades. Watch out for the dishwashing suds, and try not to piss off SkyNet. You're now just in it for yourselves. Forget the colony!

Notice of Commendation

2010-02-01T18:00:00.002-05:00

You know your boyfriend is a hero when he takes you out to dinner and, despite pieces of food or drool occasionally just randomly falling out of your mouth onto the table and your clothes, still looks at you as if you are the most beautiful girl in all the free-chewing world.

And then picks up the check as if you did him a favor.

A hero I say!

Also found out I can scarf these down, no problem. Bib a must.

photo courtesy of Flickr and barisione

Not by the Nerves in My Chinny Chin Chin!

2010-01-27T17:30:00.002-05:00

Then I'll slurp and I'll burp and I'll get oatmeal all over your shirt again!

Just another typical afternoon here in Fractured Fairy Tale Land.

Coming back to work has proven difficult in terms of cleaning out my mouth, hydrating myself properly, and eating on schedule. Plus every meal means a guaranteed stain somewhere on my clothing. Just moments ago, some yogurt plopped on my pants. I've never felt so empowered.

I am intrigued by having a numb chin though. It's like the opposite of a phantom limb because it's there but I just have no sensation in it whatsoever. I like to tap on it and squish it around because it's amazing how something can be fully alive, but feel totally dead to you. [Insert forced joke about ex-boyfriends. LADIES?!? Pandering.]

Imagine if this guy couldn't feel his chin! Maybe that's what's on his mind.

photo courtesy of Wikipedia

Also my craving for a nice sandwich remains unrequited though applesauce has become akin to a new lover for me. Glop gloop.

I did get a piece of office birthday cake though I couldn't balance my cake-consumption-to-banter ratio because I was too concerned about chin crumbs. Small victories!

Oh, also, this is from a press release I got at work [my red italicized comments are in brackets]:

"Workers shared some of the craziest things their co-workers have done on the job:

Co-worker ate the cheese off the pizza box at a company meeting. [And the problem is?]

Co-worker talks openly about flatulence. [In this case, words are preferred to actions.]

Co-worker in the cubicle next to me wears 3-D glasses with the lenses removed. [Smart, because real life is already 3-D, plus you can never be too prepared for your next Avatar viewing.]

Co-worker repeatedly bangs a mallet on the table for no apparent reason. [This one is my favorite. Let the law decide!]

Co-worker whistles 8 hours a day. [Let me guess the song: "Whistle While You Work."]

Co-worker chews tobacco and spits it into empty soda bottles. [Onto the floor would be grosser though.]

Former boss brought a baby sippy cup to a meeting and started drinking out of it. [This seems like a open-and-shut case of JAWS. *Bangs mallet*]

Co-worker cleaned fingernails using a counterpart's business card while sitting in their office. [Passive-aggressive scare tactics. We've all been there.]"

I Got My Voice Back & Indigestion With It!

2010-01-22T18:00:00.000-05:00

I feel like the little mermaid if she was a spokesperson for Gas-X. Tongue returns but stomach burns. Actually, thankfully, two days later when I am finishing up this overdue scribble, my stomach has toned down some of its G.I. Jane defensive tactics. But, in the aftermath, we (being the rest of my royal body) remain penitent and cautious.

On Wednesday, my tongue was liberated from soli-teary confinement! I thought it would burst out in a bravado solo (reminiscent of a musical a hardened ex-con penned behind bars) as this jacked up, reformed albeit still smooth criminal but instead it looked like a ghost of itself, according to my mom, pale and shaky to the touch. I guess I Cask of Amontillado'd the sucker (licker? That still sound crude! Innuendo, why do you plague me?).

I photo-documented the event itself, because it had its share of Hallmark/someecards moments.

Here is my view from the chair at the surgeon's office in the waiting room. You can't see it, dearest reader, but on the screen are intimate portraits of the different surgeries and fix-ups the surgeon performs. Also a couple newspapers on the table to keep people grounded. Their office is pretty fancy and contempo. Chairs without armrests, sinks without faucets. It's the future! Can you handle it?

Here is the surgeon with his assistant taking off the majority of my rubber bands. My tongue's jail cell was being deconstructed as though a war had just ended, and a news of a ceasefire was broadcast over a coconut radio!

Here is the moment of truth where I am opening my mouth for the first time, and a heavenly light shines down on my face. Don't question it! My surgeon is standing by!

My surgeon also has a sense of humor because once normal human speech was returned unto me (albeit with two "guiding" rubber bands. Can't go cold turkey right away.), I told him one side of my face hurt more than the other, and he told me that his assisting surgeon did that side of my face and he did the "good" side. Charmer!

I made a thank-you card for him, which my mother quite vocally instructed me to present as though I were an infant (I haven't even started teething again)! But that was nothing compared to when she asked how my diarrhea was right in front of everybody and when there was stuff in my mouth so I couldn't even defend my honor! Straight outta Cosmo Girl. The surgeon tastefully and tactfully pretended she hadn't brought it up at all. "What diarrhea?" he might have innocently asked in a post-appointment no-holds barred interview with Fox's off-off-off cable subsidiary.

Boyfie helped me come up with the concept of the card which is the shark Jaws on the outside:

And the interior of a thankful mouth when you open it up, plus that delicious "Jawesome" play on words:

Guess what?! My surgeon really liked the card! He even gave me a hug!!! I could barely handle it. I think my pain meds have been making me superduper emotional lately so I would have started bawling then and there, but I reined it in. He even ran around his office and showed the card to his office manager and secretary and everybody. He said he'd put it up in his office and praised its creativity. I felt like I just won a Golden Globe. Does that make me out of touch? I hope so.

As proof of my non-stop sentimentality, I also made a card for my dad's co-workers in the operating room and intensive care unit for him to take to work to thank them for taking such good care of me. And apparently they put it on their braggy bulletin board! Two out of two! Outta the park!

Well, right after tongue release, my mom and I went out to lunch to celebrate my gradual return to the outside. Sadly, we learned right away, I have barely remastered the art of eating yet. We went to a tasteful chain Italian restaurant and I tried breaking the soft rolls into little pieces but no dice. Nothing would stay in my mouf! Everything just fell out, as confused as I was.

To cope, later that afternoon, I stealth-read The Lovely Bones in the bookstore while my mom perused self-help books (her favorite)! Self-help is subjective.

To add even less humor to the situation, I got overambitious and thought I could go tell some jokes right away that night, but ha! Jokes were on me. My stomach staged a Class III ambush to seek attention away from my mouth and rained down destruction and despair on my corpus for the next 48 hours. This included some uncomfortable moments the next day sitting in a two-hour long office meeting and trying to indicate with subtle eyebrow arches to the person next to me that the strange sounds emanating from me were totes my tummo, not my tusho, not that that did anything for our "on the rocks" friendship.

So I had to bench myself for a widdle bit from real life. Eating has proved to be a bit of a slurpy adventure coated with nuisance powder. I can't get much down except textured soups and yogurty deals, and quite a mess results regardless. I have permanent egg on my face.

My tongue is basically on parole right now because it can't come out that far and my mouth opens just enough to make attempts to haphazardly shove stuff in and hope for the best. I am basically a half-baby/half-old person right now. There's my diet and then there's the wit and wisdom and eye twinkles I have developed over time. Not to mention the constant crying, but I like that part.

Ah well, as they say, stiff lower lip and all that! No, you're right, I say that. Nobody else. Hup hoop!

Found Footage

2010-01-19T16:30:00.002-05:00

Hark! We've finally come upon the day before my tongue is released from captivity. Considering its two-week imprisonment behind bars, we can only surmise what lays in store for me, the well-meaning but restrained patron. Jacked up on a diet of revenge, pull ups, curls, and tats, the pink prince will break out in unfettered glory, perhaps disgusting and horrifying my surgeon and his nurse in the process with its size, ink-grained beliefs, and fury, but never apologizing, no, never that.

Do let's have a quick multimedia meander down memory cul-de-sac, shall we?

I realized quite bemusedly to myself that I am going to miss this whole jaws wide shut saga of healing and hope, as trying as it could be at times. I became something of a misanthrope, only going out in public a requisite few times, once to a class that I just started taking, in which I used a doodle board to make a proper introduction of myself to everyone.

Within my own abode, I became something of self-proclaimed royalty with exacting standards and unrelenting habits. I would make faces at my mother if she dared to eat those most tempting and textured items known as solid foods around me. I would often wear a towel bib, and self-medicate standing up with a silver spoon. I would devour books in one or two days, going through an entire library stack, and fitting in a movie or TV episode here or there to keep myself dabbling in other worlds. Or alternately, I would read the newspaper to stay (internally) relevant. I forgot to check my work email (though I had promised myself) to the point where my boss had to text me to relay a message. I rather enjoyed the effort of the communique.

But I have also been turning quite sentimental, bawling behind my 3D glasses at Avatar and pining for my hospital bed and the consistent nurse pampering where drifting off to sleep is your most required calling.

THINGS I WILL MISS or THINGS I HAVE LEARNED

the way soup dribbled onto clothing I had just washed or crusted on my chin with truly inhumane regard for my feelings

how brushing my teeth became more for show than anything practical (window washing)

the new fact acquired that poop seems to lose all its smelly qualities on a liquid diet (it needs to be documented) and the thoroughly unfortunate event of soiling my pants which occurred following a sad, sudden onset bout of diarrhea which persisted longer than was necessary (neither of these things will I miss, but an honest account is required)

how talking became secondary in any human interaction until I discovered tu-tu-tu-tu-tu could easily cover most of the emotional spectrum and then slightly later noted that I could be understood 200 percent better donning an efficacious British accent with hints of Africa in it

how parents acquire their old roles which you can quickly accept with a knee-jerk reaction as if you were hardly a grownup to ever begin with.

I may even have to spare a moment of nostalgia for my muscle spasms and mild bloody spittle.

Here were some choice quotes from my caretakers during their time to shine, which they did most ably and with concerted, appreciated effort:

Point/Counterpoint with the Parentals

On Facebook (on two separate occasions)

Mother: You're on Facebook! That means you're famous!

Mother: I don't have to register for Facebook to fill out this survey, do I? I don't want my pretty photos all over the Internet.

[Well, which is it, Mother?!]

On Muscle Milk (on two separate occasions)

Father: It's Muscle Milk. It just sounds good.

Mother: Muscle Milk. Nothing about that sound good.

[Men and women for you, ladies and genteels!]

Verdict: It's no milkshake, but it's not terrible.

But, regardless of all the fun and the glamour I must put behind me and simply reflect back upon through treasured keepsakes such as a drool rag and antibiotic lip ointment, my building excitement for my first "outta jaws jail" meal of mashed potatoes and ravioli cut into teeny-tiny pieces is through the roof and to the moon. And that is one promise that is not fueled by pain meds.

Snot Funny

2010-01-14T18:30:00.002-05:00

Today everything tastes like mucus.

Sneezing is another physical expulsion to be feared. I don't want to know what happens when you sneeze with your mouth shut, but so far, I've taken extreme measures to prevent such a tragedy from occurring, including touching my nose and patting the top of my head. My body's made up for it by yawning approximately several times an hour, and believe you me, nobody is pleased especially some sutures I know.

I've discovered that with my mouth all rammajammed together, my other senses have stepped up to the challenge. My nose particularly is impressing me by finding odors I never knew existed. This is what a dog must feel like because everything seems to emanate some kind of a scent and few of them are pleasing in the delicate sense. In fact, I'm finding much of the world downright musky.

I also had an orthodontist appointment this morning. My orthodontist delights me to no end because he has what I can only divine to be a grandfatherly Savannah accent, or if not, a very refined southern Virginian accent which lends poise to any activity he chooses to pursue, including vacuuming excess saliva out of my face. I can't help but always imagine him giving his final statement to an overheated jury in a sweaty summer courtroom about the purported innocence of my teeth. "Your honuh, I do declare these pearly whites are nawt killuhs!"

His entire office has a maritime theme too due to his affinity for water pastimes so, if I'm lucky, he wears pants with small ducks or boats. His charms are palpable.

After that, Daddums and I went to Avatar 3D at the mall after which he bought me a pony. No, a milkshake, but still! I got pretty overemotional during the movie. Everything on the grand scale of things seems so horrific recently. Luckily, I was wearing dark glasses.

Artsy shot at the cinemer.

I actually have some social invitations this weekend. I know! The one weekend! With my mouf all gummied up and pain meds kicking through my system!

Still. I thought I'd make a pros & cons list of what I could bring to a party in my current state.

PRO:

Won't be a chatty Kathy. I actually never am, but this time, I am physically restraining myself to make good on it.

CON:

Can barely be understood in a noise-free environment.

PRO:

Won't drink myself into anything but a sober stupor.

CON:

Can't eat delicious crunchy bar snacks known as nachos. This is actually one of my main motives for ever going out. The possibility of nachos at some point.

PRO:

Won't be sitting at home filing petty grievances against my past.

CON:

Will be writing people up for grievances they didn't know they committed in public! Oh, intraversion. You are the personality trait of overinflated (ahem, misunderstood) brilliance.

Jury's still out! About going out. My teef were proven innocent as was the chin accomplice! Underbite over and out.

A Visit to the Splurgeon

2010-01-13T21:10:00.001-05:00

First off. If you are able, help Haiti.

Now onto minutiae.

This afternoon, I found out some other things you can't do without a mobile jaw or a clear and present tongue: licking a stamp or an envelope (not that I would, but it's the principle of the thing) and YAWNING. Yawning with your teeth gritted is probably similar to the feeling you would get if your hands and legs were bound, and some malcontent was shouting orders at you to look as if you were having a good time. Not the ideal situation, in other words.

But this morning, I had my first post-op visit to the surgeon's office!

The best was that while my Dad and I were waiting for him to see me in the exam room, "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye was playing over the office intercom system. That was probably one of the most surrealist moments I've ever had.

I should admit freely here that I have somewhat of a hero's crush on my surgeon. Nothing smarmy or cheap, but just that wide-eyed worship that comes with someone saving your face (not to be confused with saving face). Plus, he kept saying everything looked really good today.

Anyone who can look you in your froggy face and bruisy chin and tell you everything is looking great deserves some kind of recognition. Plus he told me I am doing a "pretty good job" in terms of keeping my mouth clean. Monswoon season (of joy) in my chin.

Wistful.

Secret bruising!

After that, my dad took me for my first public appearance to Costco (the bulk goods store formerly known as Price Club).

I felt quite exposed so I covered my chin using a multi-colored scarf (bad because it draws the eye) and tried to follow my Dad around by keeping my eyes on the ground at all times. I must have looked quite the submissive female figure.

Thus did these clothing items delight my eyes!

Hidden tummy panels! When you want to leave a little something to the imagination!

For a cultured but repressed person such as...moi.

Lastly, a quick word on meds. My pain medications were making me nauseous, which was making it difficult to keep liquids down. But pain also makes it hard to consume liquids. Ourobu-ruh roh: a veritable snake digesting its I-told-ya-so tail. The worst is the flavor of one of my pain meds is white caramel-orange-strawberry. Not only does that sound totally gross and the opposite of delicious, but that is not even a thing. What the heck is white caramel and who invited the fruits along?!?

[I have a week left to rage out about my mouth confinement, so just trying to make it count.]

I have now switched to the always crowdpleasing Children's Motrin in conventionally dreamy berry flavor.

P.s.S.t. I'm not even going to touch what a liquid fiberless diet does for your ability to stay regular. It's quite possibly the grimmest tale of all. GI Jane (digestive tract nickname) is hanging tough.

Life Without Tongue

2010-01-12T20:30:00.000-05:00

So my tongue is in jail right now, behind bars (made of rubber bands and teeth and wires, so maximum-security), and you're probably wondering what that's like. Let me show you!

Oh, and this time, I dressed up for you guys. No, not really, but I did wash my hair.

P.S. Boyfie suggested that my tongue is testing all the bars in my mouf trying to see if there's a way out. Soon enough, Pink Prince. Soon enough!

JAWS: The Liquid Fallout

2010-01-11T17:00:00.001-05:00

So, what do you know, JAW surgery went ahead and happened!!! I am severely behind in my updating because I didn't realize that blogging might not be my highest priority after going UNDER THE KNIFE. But here is an attempt to quickly chronicle JAWS and the few days afterward.

PREFACE THE FACTS:
I had to give myself two antibacterial sponge wipe baths the night before the surge and the morning of it to scrub off any excess partycrashing dirt that happened to be on my person. It was weird because it resulted in me becoming a slightly sticky pod person. I guess hospitals enjoy admitting you in an about-to-be-birthed fetus state.

PRE-OPTIMAL ENVIRONMENT
Here is a quick as a lick (blatant lie) rundown of my time in the hospital. I got there on Wednesday at 5:55 a.m. to register, and they gave me a wristband so I was immediately part of the billable family. Seriously, they just scan you like you're a grocery item in order to add meds and tests to your tally. Pretty sexy stuff.

Then they sent my mom and me to another waiting area, where a nurse promptly fetched me and assigned me to a pre-op area. I got to change into these trendy hawt matron-white legwarmers, some practical peuce sock slippers (with chic non-slip treading), and this huge purple gown with a Bair Paws logo. If you attached tubing through it, it continually pumps warm air into it so that you look like a happy, purple pillow person. I also had to sign some consent forms including one where the hospital is not liable for me falling on my face if I tried to get out of bed without asking for assistance. Charming!

The belle of the surgery ball in my purple gown with my plus one (Mother dearest)!

My mom was really all about documenting this life event.

Then they set up my IV, and the anesthesiologist came by to brief me on his role and how the whole dealio would go down. He was super friendly, and my mom was impressed by his happy-go-lucky nature. It is a hospital, for the love of pete's sakes! Why hasn't it broken his spirit yet?

My dad actually works at the hospital where I had my procedure so he changed into his scrubs and was just lingering around the edges watching to make sure everything was going smoothly. All his co-workers were ribbing his anxious pacing. As if it was a really hands-on version of Take Your Daughter to Work Day!

They told me after they put the first round of anesthesia in my system, that it would feel like I just had three martinis. Which was sad because instead of feeling pleasantly woozy, I just about immediately passed out (Lightweight Linda ovah heah!). But I do remember being wheeled into the OR, but then tuning out once the exciting part started. My dad watched some of the surgery though. Lucky duck. Who falls asleep with her mouth open at a party starring me?! I do.

FEELING POST-OPTIMISTIC!
Next thing I know, I'm awake and looking at my parents. And I'm like "OK! When is the show is going to start!?! I have hot seats right up near the front!" And they're like, "Uhhh. You're done."

Here is me with a jaw wrap around my head. It is nice and cold, but I couldn't feel the bottom of my face anyway. That's what you get when you sever nerves, people!

"Nonsense," I woozily contest. "I have barely arrived!" (This is all mumbled because my jaw is banded shut.)

Then these nice nurses come and take care of me in the post-op area, which I have to stay in until they can move me to a room in the ICU (intensive care unit, or insanely chichi unit...you'll see why!)

I am quite a fan of my IV fluids, and my mom is really hitting it off with the nurses. She is a pretty great conversationalist when it comes to making the other people feel interesting and captivating.

But the best new development after I woke up was that I had a catheter in my nether regions! That's right. No worries about getting up to pee, because I was getting drained from the inside. Apparently I peed a lot during the surgery. I KNOW. Talk about embarrassing yourself in front of the cool kids (I mean everyone with med school and dental school and nursing degrees.) They'll never invite me back!

Here are some prelim writings I made in post-op since I couldn't really talk.

The last line indeed says, "Morphine la la la."

This is me with my surgeon in shining armor! He had five hours to do the procedure and he finished in 2.5! Overachiever! Well, actually he had another assistant surgeon helping him who was left-handed and he's right-handed so they had me ambidextrously covered.

Post-op ward quickly led to pampering. Hellloooo nurses! Anything I wanted, anything at all was within my beck and call! The best thing about all the nurses was that each one was a new kind of nice. I didn't realize there were so many different subtleties to being nice, but there are! I felt bad because I couldn't really say "Thank you" properly with my jaws all banded together so I tried my best to have grateful eyes.

Nothing brightens the world like a fat-lipped smile!

No more pics, paparazzo! TMZ, take mercy.

Seeing my reflection for the first time, I am introspective.

My first attempt at water! Cheers! Much of it ended up on the towel!

I also got to wear these things that wrapped around my legs like blood pressure cuffs and every so often, they tightened around my gams to keep them non-crampy. Eventually, six hours later, a spot opened up for me in the ICU! I know! So exclusive, but the bouncers knew I was legit.

The ICU had a huge TV plus I was hooked up to a morphine drip which I could get any time I wanted just by pressing a yellow button. My parents decided I could spend the night in the hospital by myself because I'm a big girl. Plus I wasn't very exciting just lying there, mumbling, gurgling, and getting my vitals checked constantly.

I remember having a hard time deciding what to watch on TV because I finished the book I brought with me but I finally settled on "Friends." Say what you want about the show but it is easy to process when doped up, and I can appreciate that. The laugh track was a gentle emotional coach pointing out convenient moments for me to coo at the screen.

Then, in the middle of the night, I was moved to another, ramped-down ICU because they needed my other room for more important cases (i.e., not just gurgling chipmunks). I loved being wheeled around the hospital in my bed in the middle of the night because I felt like I was on an adventure!

The next room I was in was not as gussied up as the first one. It was a minimalist version of the first room. The TV was tiny, but I didn't care. Still inherently watchable. Also I had an actual bathroom instead of a chamberpot (though my catheter was still in).

After several more hours the next day getting waited on jaw and foot, the surgeon visited me one more time the next day, and I was allowed to go home!

Here are some pictures from my second day after surgery plus a video so you can hear my voice (it sounds like I have an African accent sometimes. It's intriguing.)

I call it The Nutty Professor shoot. You can decide for yourself why I am calling it that.

FASHION!

HORROR!

MAKE IT WORK!

Here is what a typical meal looks like for me. Yes, you're right, it does look like Nickelodeon slime. Very astute.

Here is the sound and look of my new voice.

Tomorrow I will write about how my tongue is a prisoner in my own mouth and all the excitement and intrigue that results from that. You can't even lick a stamp for yelping out loud!

Shining Star Breathalyzer Test

2010-01-05T15:07:00.010-05:00

This is an awesomely hysterical sketch called "Drinking Alone" that Honora, a dearly beloved Mythical Newsroom cohort, has prepared for the web.

Society's favorite pastime is captured through the scope of one woman's comical yet illuminating experience!

Drinking Alone - watch more funny videos.

(Filmed by the resplendent Dan Marks and edited by the illustrious Nate Austin!)

Suspense! Intrigue! Drama! Queen!

2010-01-05T10:50:00.002-05:00

JAWS IS UPON US!!! TIME FOR THE SURGE!!! EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!

(When the narrator is talking about this horrible creature from the deep, I like to pretend he is talking about my mouth.)

For the weak-stomached...

(Everyone loves a movie in a minute!)

P.S.s.t I guess I will attempt to document my surgery in some fashion, but no promises! Once the hospital gown is on, all bets are off!

A Picture Is Worth a 1000 Questions With No Good Answers

2009-12-31T17:45:00.007-05:00

My favorite thing about stock photography or clip art is the great lengths the company goes to in order to describe the image in question. But, in the process, many more questions are raised.

OBSERVE.

That is all.

Oh also, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

(This coming year, may all your questions be answered to the point where you can say "No further questioning, your honor.")

Some Kind of Hero

2009-12-29T10:47:00.003-05:00

Whoever brought this to work today and put it in the kitchenette fridge deserves some kind of plaque, or at the very least, a key to the city.

I salute you!

Choose Your Own Bloodventure 2: Lost in New Vein

2009-12-28T21:47:00.006-05:00

(Alternate Title—Blood Goggles 2: The Reckoning.)

Today morning was blood donor clinic REDUX.

(Full history here with previous outcome here.)

I went back! And I passed with flying colors! Actually, more like passed out.

But let's baby got back up the story train a bit.

I get there. They put me through the screening, and I am cleared this time! Woohoo! I feel so accomplished for no discernible reason.

Then they do the finger stick test to check my iron, and I barely pass that, but I do. Boy, those finger sticks hurt. They hurt more then giant needles, I've decided. Or maybe fingertips are just a sensitive bunch.

Then I go for the mainstage event: the blood draw! There is an element of suspense and wonder since it is my first time. My phlebotomist (who was also my screener) is very nice and she has a Southern accent (from Mississippi, I learn through eavesdropping). I find it to be very comforting, as if I am about to be served a fresh slice of fruit pie off the windowsill instead of getting a tube stuck in my "juicy" veins (that's the adjective she used!).

My blood is coming out pretty slowly, no big surprise there. My arm starts to feel like a log so they remove the tourniquet and then I keep pumping my arm and it takes a bit of time, but gradually, I fill up a bag (lunch for a vampire)!

Proof positive, or negative. I forgot to ask my type.

Now for the medical drama. I sat there for a bit, then I sat up. So far, so good. I was tentative, but playing it cool.

Then I walked over to the kitchenette area where they make you sit and eat a snack and drink some juice for 10 to 15 minutes until you are pronounced fit to return to society!

I go and sit there. Right away my mind turns into a blackish grid and everything starts closing in on me. I've had dizzy moments from fevers of yore so I try to put my head between my legs. I am not sure where I remember this from (probably TV, how embarrassing), and hey guess what, it doesn't help at all.

I weakly wave at the nearest nurse and go, "HALP."

And this whole crew of nurses rushes over, ready to rock n' roll. I must've looked convincing. They lay me out on the floor and stick ice bags under and on my neck and arms, elevate my legs, and stare at me with very real concern. I feel woozylicious (donor drunk is the diagnosis I'll go with, I haven't built up a tolerance yet for sapping blood).

Gradually, they move me in a wheelchair back to a bed where they have me lay there with icepacks until I no longer feel like a ragdoll.

The nice thing that happened was that every nurse in the entire vicinity came by to see how I was doing...as if I was some sort of hero!

Pah! Hero! More like autologous donor with newbie syndrome!

All the regular morning donors, mostly elderly people, sat in beds around me with their little bags silently judging me and my obvious weakness. But I just adjusted my icebags and enjoyed my random throne. I felt like Queen of the Blood Clinic! Everyone kept making sure I was OK and asking if I needed anything.

An approximation of my throne.
photo courtesy of Flickr and extremeezine

I think the real explanation is nothing that exciting happens at a blood clinic, so I added some action to the day. I was happy to play the part once I was stabilized, but back there at the beginning, definitely not my best work. Shaky legs, gradual slump over, Matrix brain, sweaty chills, and nausea. No thanks! I'll take another finger prick instead, thanks.

Finally, one OJ, a granola bar, and two hours later, I ventured back out into the world to tell my story.

They offered me a T-shirt before I left, but I wasn't taking a T-shirt after donating blood to myself! No way! They also said, "Come back and see us again!" Yes. I will. Just not right this second.

P.S. I am actually sitting here daydreaming about the blood clinic right now because I felt like such a prize piece of society there. I could do no wrong, and everyone was so eager to please me. But I know, if I go back tomorrow, it just won't be the same. Mainly because I can't donate blood two days in a row! I'm not allowed. The law says! Medical law. Learn it! It's what keeps this kingdom running smoothly.

Nightlife of the Party!

2009-12-25T23:44:00.005-05:00

First off, Happy Everything! Now onto business.

So I took a nap in the middle of a party today.

Literally. I didn't move to a more covert location. I just stretched out on the couch and made good on half-lidded promises.

I asked my Mom later what people said and how they took it.

People talk. I know they do. I still expect to see and be seen even if I'm not conscious at the time.

It's hard having to set trends and not know how the masses are going to take them.

Plus shuteye photographs provocatively so I won't be surprised if my clumsy mug shows up on the gossip equivalent of some family blogging sites some time soon.

One of the hosts' kids confronted me later saying, "Hey. What happened?"

Oh, I don't know. I can't help that I rock so hard with my constant snacking and TV flipping that I reach a climax known as utter and total exhaustion.

It's pretty intense. I wouldn't recommend it for those with dignity or any sense of decorum though.

Plugs, Shrugs, & Hugs

2009-12-23T10:46:00.004-05:00

Here is the PLUG: I made a video for Rooftop Comedy's Holiday Countdown. It is featured today on that esteemed website.

Here is the SHRUG: I totally got denied to give blood to myself yesterday (see previous post), but I basically had to nix myself because my screener didn't speak English. I told her I had jaundice when I was a baby, and she said, "But just your baby has jauntus, right? Not you?" So I had to be all, "No, I'm the baby! Doncha see? I'm the baby!"

Then she passed me even though I was looking at the same papers as her, and I was all "Hold up. I don't think this is right." Sure enough it twasn't! To the bottom of the reject pile! She looked relieved that I was off her hands. No blood on her hands! Ever.

NOW FOR A HUG!

Presenting the Most Selfish Blood Donor in the World!

2009-12-22T11:10:00.001-05:00

Later today I get to donate blood.

But here's the thing.

I'm donating it...to myself.

Yup, you heard right. I am storing away blood for FUTURE ME.

Baby, I'm yours!
photo courtesy of Flickr and jeremyfoo

See I am getting jaw surgery (street name: JAWS) in two weeks and I just need to put a little hemoglobin investment away in case my body decides to bleed more than is necessary (generously could be the choice adverb here).

I am pretty excited because I have never given blood before. Silly things have held me back like the possibility of malaria or bona fide anemia.

Today, we're throwing past grievances aside, and going for the red.

My mom said I will get a chocolate chip cookie for my time, but I think that's for people who are donating blood to other people. If you are donating blood to yourself, you already get something better. A sense of unease! That is pretty timeless.

I'll drink to that!
photo courtesy of Flickr and jimwolffman

Also, I got blood drawn last week and the nice male tech took all the time in the world to find my vein. First he found it and then no blood would come out (so clearly it was a ghost vein), and then he found it but it only filled up two tubes and no blood would come out for the third tube. Then we switched arms and he finally got everything he needed.

So today is like that except it's gonna be a big ol' ladypurse full!

I can't wait! I'm dizzy with anticipation of being dizzy afterward!

P.S. TMI on JAWS soon enough.

P.P.S. I feel like an auto-cannibalistic vampire what with storing away my blood in case I have a biological urge for it later. Phew that vampires are cool right now!

Truly Blood (the comedic spin-off to True Blood starring me this afternoon).
photo courtesy of Flickr and cesarastudillo

Underground News Network Debut!

2009-12-16T19:00:00.001-05:00

Oh, hi. Sorry. I didn't see you there so the fault is all mine. What's that? Oh, well yes, I have been on TV. You recognize my face and shifty-eyed demeanor? Ah, that might be because I was on Russia Today's The Alyona Show recently commenting on two subjects with which I have very little experience. What two subjects? Get ready for this: politicians and being cool. I know!

Honestly, when I got there and they rushed me to the make-up chair, that was enough. I had reached spiritual Hollywood at that point. Specifically, when the make-up lady told me I have beautiful skin and natural eye shadow (Is this a nice way of saying eye baggage?), I could have gone home at that point. I was happy as a clean and clear clam.

But no, then there was the actual being on TV part. Hah! I didn't know exactly what I was going to be asked so I probably could have done with being a whole lot funnier, but I was kind of in disbelief that I have gorgey skin and glossy eyelids the whole time. Anyhowdiedoody, roll the clip!

(My clip starts at 21:42.)

My Secret Santa Bent the Laws of Physics for Me!

2009-12-15T23:25:00.017-05:00

Call it a seasonal miracle because I had an experience coming back from work tonight that can only be described as holy moly!

As I was braking my car to miss a posse of marauding raccoons that abruptly scurried across the road that separates suburbia from the 40 ft. by 40 ft. park across the street (the woodland equivalent of the projects), my large coffee flew out of its makeshift cup holder and landed at the foot of the passenger seat.

I was dreading the sticky mess I'd find once I had time to pull the car over plus barely began to consider the implications of an overcaffeinated floor rug, but here's the thing. It didn't spill. Even though it landed sideways. It all stayed in the cup (save a drop or two). I have no idea how or why, but it just did. Can you even imagine the delight!?! The mystery?!? The wonder!?!

Now, I'm not saying there was a greater force behind all this (see title), but it was the perfect set up for a dastardly spill, yet the universe decided to go ahead and do me a solid by keeping my liquid in check. As for the raccoons, they caroled behind the car all the way home. And by caroled, I mean threw gang signs at me.

If chipmunks went rogue...
photo courtesy of Flickr and striatic

P.S. I feel as though I somehow maxed out my karma credit with this piece of good fortune, but it was totally worth it.

**UPDATE** The same exact thing (minus the raccoons) happened on the way to work the morning after, and guess what? Coffee everywhere, and especially in all the car's hard-to-reach places. Guess we're back to reality. The universe is making all kinds of points, but I am having trouble understanding what the feel-good takeaway is from this twin set of drama. And don't say "Clearly, you should refrain from driving with coffee in the car," you literalists!

Going Strong

2009-12-10T14:28:00.007-05:00

This email in my inbox made me shake my head and smile.

But wait, it gets better. I highlighted some interesting statements. (Click-to-zoom, yo.)

At this point, I would like to announce that I haven't been able to actually get into my Friendster account for some time now, but maybe silence is the best feedback of all.

All that being said, big fan of the new logo!

What Happens in Frederick Does Not Stay in Frederick: An Epic Tragicomedy Broken Into Too Many Pieces

2009-12-04T10:15:00.025-05:00

So I've learned that much of the humor and pathos that happens surrounding comedy shows occurs before or after the actual show itself (Read: failed attempt to sound wise and reflective when I clearly have not learned anything from the experience I am about to relate).

This past Thursday was no exception! I write this dispatch as a changed woman, one who has now lived through the confluence of fickle fate, Murphy's Law (and by law, I mean THE LAW), and escalation of a hijinks-prone situation!

You see, ladies and gentlemuppets, that fated night, half of the fantasterrific group Mythical Newsroom (myself included) did an improv show in Frederick, Maryland along with two other illustrious groups, White Phosphorus and Blue Bunny, plus the esteemed king of funny Mr. Doug Powell was hosting (you should check out any and all of these performers at any and all times).

Now say what you want about Freddy-Rick, Maryland, it may be far away from both Baltimore and D.C. (equilateral triangularly so) but the place has all the nooks and crannies (as opposed to the big city crooks and nannies) of small town charm: one-way streets, cozy shops, and friendly denizens (for the most part...this is what you call foreshadowing).

The show was super fun, and the audience was one of the nicest and most gracious I've ever known!!! But the real pieces of firework started after we left the show to head home.

THAT'S ME IN THE CORNER, LOSIN' MY DIRECTIONS

We got a bit turned around because of some of those one-way streets I was telling you about.

I was lucky to be traveling with my cohort and superbly hilarious pal, Jenny, and we were first en route to DC to drop her off. Just drop her off. Drop off nothing else anywhere at any point (more foreshadowboxing). Jenny will be providing colorful co-commentary from here on out as denoted by brackets in red [as such].

So we make enough little loops around the comfy curbs of Froddlenok enough times to decide that we might need to ask someone for directions (not just home, but also in life). Luckily for us, there were many cop cars parked all over Fridnick (keeping the township safe as is their wont, or is it?!?!) so Jenny suggested getting some friendly and legal geographical advice. I am generally suspicious of the po-po due to some previous traumatic experiences.

But finally, I gave in (I wasn't about to play the stereotypical male role of refusing to stop and ask for directions as it had previously been noted between the two of us that neither of us had any navigational sense whatsoever).

[Beyond being a horrible navigator, I am also severely resistant toward responsibility in any given situation (especially when I'm having such a good time chatting with my hilarious gal pal, Aparna). Indeed perhaps any other combination of travelers would certainly have sought out assistance long before we did.]

So we see two cop car choices: one cop idling on the side of the road we're on and one straight ahead of us parked in a little alley cove, so I pull over to the side and turn my blinkers on. And we ask the first cop for help. Guess what? He is a real honest-to-goodness nice guy. He carefully thinks to give us the best directions he knows plus some complimentary hat tips and badge wiggles. Then he bids us a good night and twirls his avuncular mustache right in our faces.

[I provided probably two too many thank yous to this nice officer, which I hope didn't come across as disingenuous because I was truly delighted to once again be able to sit passively and enjoy the ride.]

Not all cops are give withering stares. Only most of them.
photo courtesy of Flickr and D.C.Atty

We pull away, happily recharged, but still tentative. It was at this point that the other cop who was parked nearby pulls out and starts following us. Not the best of feelings when that happens, but hey, it's Fredrock. What's the worse thing that could happen?! (Famous last shrugs.)

[At this point I am still glowing from the charming officer who provided such thorough direction that I am not the least bit concerned about the trailing officer. They're all so nice here in Friendlick, right?!]

THE PULLOVER

So I wouldn't say I'm the greatest driver of all time on the best of days, but I am definitely not even a passable human being when a cop is tailgating me. Immediately, my body goes into stick shift mode even if I'm driving manual transmission and I freeze up and do silly things like forget what directions we were given and go 26 mph instead of 25 and slow my roll to a stop at a red light too slowly so that I am slightly a few feet in front of the white line. Which is enough for a cop that is tailgating to you turn his sirens on and TAKE YOU DOWN.

Because that, benevolent and patient folks, is exactly what happened.

[I am going to shoot straight here with you, I noticed the slight line roll-over and thought it was ballsy. But we were riding high in a new direction so what the hell? Also, I cannot see street signs in the dark so the closer the better. After we notice the lights ablaze, I'm thinking, "Damn that officer is so nice, he is probably just letting us know that we're going the wrong way so he wants to do us a solid and right our path. Whatta town!]

Now, let me just take this moment to say that there are two kinds of cops—cops that do their jobs and cops that proudly announce whenever possible and no matter who's listening, "Hey, I'm just trying to do my JOB! So excuuuuuuuse me." (But they shout the J-word, and you're all like "Stop yelling! We're in a libary!")

I would wager to say the cop that pulled us over was in the latter group. I don't know how best to describe him except to say that Michael Clarke Duncan would probably play him in the TV movie based on the events about to transpire, but only if you made MCD look a lot less Hollywoodsy and lot more backwoodsy. For instance, this guy's teeth were a bit jumbled and he spoke with something of a stutter-lisp.[Dude couldn't get words out to save himself. It was painful to witness. But then, the pain was just starting.] Now, before you get all offended, realize that I am not painting him as having a stutter-lisp and being a big, black man. That's just what he happened to be. So unfortunately, we had to rule being racially profiled out (Jenny as a ginger and me as a curry) because he was a fellow minority in more ways than one. Let's call him Cletus.

First, Cletus gave us a long, rather tedious (not just because of the stuttering, and plus I'm confident you'll be on our side by the time this is over) explanation on how rolling in front of the white line at a stop sign even by two feet is illegal under Maryland law. Then he asked for my license and registration, which I gave him after some nervous fumbling. And he goes, "McLean, Virginia?!(where I live) What are you doing all the way out in Frederick?" So then we explain we were at a comedy show, we were trying to go home, we got lost, and so we stopped to ask the other cop for directions.

This is when the logic train went off the rails.

"What other cop?" Cletus says bluntly.

"The cop right near you who was giving us directions," insists Jenny.

"Where was that?" (THE CAD!!!)

"I don't know! Back there where you pulled out after us." (The truth sometimes works.)

Then, OMG, you guys, Cletus puts out a radio signal to all of Frebberick to ask if any cops gave two girls directions. The gumption. The nerve. The swerve. The WTFudge.

[He must be kidding. That's all. Sure, he knows we're in comedy and he wants in. Ha! Maybe we're just a part of the local Candid Camera? Ok, cool.]

Here's the best/worst part. NOBODY said they gave us directions. The first guy who answered the call didn't even sound anything like the guy who gave us help anyway, but after that (in two minutes, he had contacted the entire county of Freetrick, the Green Berets, and Mars), still no dice. But it was at this point that some back up showed up with a barking animal. [I'm crushed. Where is our mustached miracle man? Was he a mirage? WTF is happening here?!]

Then there was some muffled talking while Jenny and I sat in the car and pondered our fates. Finally, after about as much time as it takes to catch a real criminal had passed, he came back to the car and said, "Ladies, is there anything I should know about in the car?" [Uh oh, the ginger rage; it cannot lie dormant much longer.]

(Yes, a ginger and a curry!)

At this point, Jenny lost her cool a little bit in the sense that she knew her rights. I know my rights, but I prefer to express them as silent wrongs that I shouldn't be allowed to possess. She goes, "I don't understand what is going on. You pulled us over for going across the line at a red light. Why do you need to know what's in the car?!"

And this is the best exposition of the story: "I'm going to be honest, ladies, your story doesn't add up. (I think this is an expression still used in places like Freggle Rock!) [Pardon? This story? You mean the entire sequence of events that YOU witnessed?! You were right there! Are you well? Oh no, are you impersonating a cop or something? These are all my thoughts at this point cause I am actually speechless.] The place where you were pulled over is a high-traffic drug area (imagine the most putty-faced cop in the smallest town ever saying this with a stutter-lisp), and nobody says they gave you girls directions so we're going to need to search the car."

(Right because if we were buying or selling drugs, the exact place we would pick them up or drop them off would be at the corner of Cop Car and Cop Car. Yes. Of course. I've seen The Wire. I know how everything works.)

The best place for drug exchanges!

photo courtesy of Flickr and swruler9284

"Fine, fine," Jenny and I say, tired of using logic against madness, "Go ahead. We don't have anything." [I wanted to make sure he was aware that I knew what he was doing was illegal so I think I spewed some incoherent screeches and threw in a few fist pumps to accentuate my indignation. . . but if it would get us outta there, carry on.]

THE DOG BUST

Cue the dog, specifically a fine looking vintage World War II-edition German Shepherd, rebuffed and still in its plastic packaging, but salivating to get out of it. The thing was going crazy, having what seemed like several panic attacks and a few epiphanies at the same time (stirring realizations as to his thankless 9-to-5 life, for instance).

We were told to roll up our windows and with good cause, because despite being on a leash, the creature came charging at my Volvo (which no longer felt like the safest car on the road) and hurled himself at my face, which was luckily protected by a thin coating of glass known as a window. Then he went to Jenny's side and did the same thing. Then he just charged the back doors for awhile, getting nosemarks and pawprints on everything. At first, I thought he was reacting to something, but no, I think this was just his base state. I'm pretty sure the dog was on drugs though. After further research, I'm told the dogs are very quiet and still if there are actually drugs present. But I think that would only be if the drugs were downers and not uppers. Too soon!

Jenny and I decided secretly that it was just a regular dog, and not a drug dog at all, and furthermore, it was just excited to have genuine human contact after months of hanging around with the worst cops in the world! [In retrospect, the dog was probably rabid.] Oh, and also, during this time, a third cop showed up (Asian cop! Yay diversity!) and then got bored quickly and left. I have a feeling Cletus tends to be the Cop Who Cried Dog Search on the ol' squad.

This was the dog. Just kidding, but what if it was an adorable puppy?!

photo courtesy of Flickr and Gunjan Karun

This was actually the dog. Haha, nope. I didn't get a photo in fact! I didn't want to go to jail!!!

photo courtesy of Flickr and Sheep Purple

THE PATHETIC TRUTH

So nothing was lost except a Thursday night, and nothing was gained, especially not common sense. Cletus decided he had cracked our case and went back to his car to do some final write-ups on the situation. This mainly involved issuing a 90 dollar ticket for crossing the white line in front of a red light by two feet and giving us begrudging directions home (don't forget the stutter-lisp). [Seriously, the stutter was even more pronounced at this point. I think he was trying to speed through his words so he could go arrest a jay-walker, but his attempt to speak quickly only highlighted his disability and prolonged the ordeal. Hey, don't start feeling bad for him! Sure, he has a disability, but he is a Grade A douche.] He didn't get to catch any crooks, we didn't get to keep our dignity, and basically, the world went to poop.

She's got a ticket to trial, and she don't care.

LOST: NOT JUST A TV SHOW

Then sadly, after we drove away, guess what?! Yeah, we totally didn't remember the directions that well (who knows if they were even real ones) because of our mind-addling experience (more powerful than using drugs, one could and should say). So we basically took the long way home. How long? Perhaps a picture worth a thousand curse words might do the story some vigilante justice.

(Squiggles denote whims and hunches as to the right way to go which ended up causing, among other things, a U-turn through a cornfield and scenic drives through Frederick, Ellicott City, Mt. Airy, and Columbia by night!)
photo courtesy of Google Maps

Yes. We took The Family Circus route. [The 1.5 hour out of our way allowed Aparna and I to relive the story about 30 times. "We have to keep talking about it or I might just think it was a weird dream...remember the part when he said the story didn't add up?! That was crazy. And the stutter. Wow. Also, I might cry but I'm still in this with you! Hey, Ellicott City! That looks like a good place to buy drugs..."] But then, after I dropped off Jenny, I got way too excited and hysterical again and missed my exit going home. PERFECTION.

THE END (Or is it?) (No, seriously, it's done for real this time. Enough is enough.)

P.S. My super sleuth friend Nancy discovered some hawt, hawt finds using her crime dog web-browsing skills. Here is mos def a picture of the dog that attacked us (I'm extrapolating here). And here is a Fredreek police squad recruitment video. They take it serious up in that hotbed of crime boasting less than 100,000 inhabitants. Also check out their Meth360 program if you dare. I think Jenny and I were considered people who could use its saving touch, or maybe we were past hope!

When You Gotta Blog, You Gotta Blog

2009-11-24T11:19:00.003-05:00

I just read an article about what your urine says about you.

Apparently, sometimes I care so much about what other people think that I get dehydrated. Other times I'm so self-centered that I eat asparagus. And sometimes I laugh so hard I have delusions of incontinence which leads back to the first sentence.

Crazy!!!

I'm going to go pee and research more.

Stuff Like This Only Happens Once in a NEW MOON

2009-11-20T18:00:00.001-05:00

[I haven't blogged in awhile...don't think you were the only one who hasn't.]

But here's a little something of no consequence except that it's extremely timely and topical, so how's that for relevance?! (Rhetorical, that's how!!!)

Sometimes for stand up, it's good to videotape or just voice-record your sets so you can listen to them or watch them again (relive the horror, I like to call it). In so doing, you can learn from your mistakes & grow used to the general repulsion of watching/listening to yourself perform.

Anyway, my personal audio recorder has decided no more, no more of this thankless toil. It has started distorting my voice in a weird ghostastic way, like when your Walkman used to die, back in the olden days. So I did what any rational human bean would do. I replaced the batteries with fresh ones.

Problem solved, righto?! Wrongozoid, in fact! I tried playing back a set last night and interspersed with the words themselves were metallic alien communications plus my voice itself alternated between chirpy chipmunk and whale song with a dash of auto-tune.

So it's official. I'm a voice vampire. Did you catch that?! Yup. VOICE VAMPIRE. Vampires have no reflections and they need to be invited to enter someone's house. My voice is no longer recordable even if I attempt to invite it onto a tape recorder.

Standard issue litmus test of cool.
photo courtesy of Flickr and Ivan Gabovitch

Luckily (for me only), VAMPIRES are cool right now. I can prove it by the masses of women (with the occasional odd man in) who were seated in groups on the floor no less (like we were in some type of common airport) waiting for the release of Twilight: New Moon last night at the suburban mall.

What if Robert Pattinson's voice was garbled for the entire movie?! WHAT IF?!!?!!?!? Subtitles and more angst, that's what!!!
photo courtesy of Flickr and Angie22Arts

Anyway, though I know it's just a fad (both the Twilight saga and me being a vampire), for now, I'll wear the black, I'll drink the Kool-Aid, and I'll suffer the hipness of it all.

In the tweentime, would anyone like to listen to my Speaking in Tongues in Cheeks remix? (That's what all my sets sound like now: a tongue in a cheek with a foot squished in that very same mouth so nothing is intelligible and everything is uneasy.)

Actual new moon. Very tasteful.
photo courtesy of Flickr and tallpomlin

The Internet Just Keeps on Giving

2009-11-04T18:00:00.002-05:00

I thought I was just watching a regular ol' music video, no big deal. But there is always more to the web than you would presuppose.

Witness the beginning of this pretty non-technical song rendition (but I have included bold commentary on what this must've looked like to someone who is easily surprised):

At 00:07, we see a lens with a blurry focus on the lower halves of some torsos and legs.

At 00:08, we see the emerging of a...what is that, a baby head? An egg?!

At 00:09, the mysterious orb reveals itself as an adult head...on a body!!!

And as 00:10 almost approaches, we see it is none other than the lead singer himself! Who could have guessed it?!?!?!?!

If you think I was being melodramatic, check it out. The people CAN BARELY WRAP THEIR THEIR HEADS AROUND IT, and the song has hardly just begun!!!

In related news, this week just peaked.

Worth a Thousand Curse Words

2009-10-30T12:00:00.003-04:00

HAPPY HALLOWEEN, you goobers!!!
(Courtesy of the office kitchen this morning.)

And, just for fun, here is an impromptu photo shoot that Boyfie and I conducted during the Bentzen Ball Saturday afternoon cupcake & champagne reception.

Bentzen Ball programs? Yes! Champagne? Yes! Cupcake? Yes! Diamonds? Yes! The only thing missing was a copy of that day's newspaper.

Cupcakes are best in pairs.

Oh look, they're kissing!

Nothing goes better with champagne than cascading diamonds.

Oh, who are we kidding, who even needs the champagne?!

Uh oh, diamond coma.

Cry Me a Pungent River of Bulb Tears

2009-10-29T13:19:00.006-04:00

I have onion breath.

You can always tell when you have onion breath because you can still taste the onions in a visceral deja vu (but it's not a dream; it's disturbingly real) way.

Plus I just ate a slammin' sandwich whose delightful bod was layered with some fresh red ones.

Anyhow.

Once Boyfie had onion breath and romantically, I felt like I was eating onions as well after a few pecks. Facts are facts, and I gave him a pretty atrocious time about it. But now, in retrospect, he couldn't help it. (Sorry Boyfie!)

Stare into our mesmerizing onion rings!!! You are getting very, very stinky...
photo courtesy of Flickr and Darwin Bell

Raw onions don't bow to the allegiance of any toothpaste or oral hygiene product. They show up whenever they wanna, make people cry if they wanna, and leave only when they're good and ready. Everything you eat or drink after a raw onion won't get past your gullet without smacking of that sharp tang.

That being said, time for some onion coffee. Bottoms up! Thumbs down!