Running Commentary

Weight loss, Work, and Weddings...oh my!

2011-08-08T12:31:00.003-04:00

(Part 1 of a 3 Part series. This time: Weight loss. Next up: Work.)

I slipped into a size four this morning.

I say slipped and not pulled, yanked, or struggled, because that’s exactly how easy it was. They came on without one iota of an issue.

Now, for those of you who’ve known me for awhile, you know that a size four is nothing too earth shattering for me. I’ve been smaller, by a lot. Working in an industry where image was almost more important than talent, I am very familiar with size zeros and working out six-plus hours a day.

The thing is…is that lifestyle wore me down. I’ve never been particularly confident in my appearance or body, and the need to constantly be thinner, taller, and hotter, built upon that shaky foundation. I began, like many women, to look at food a bit like a daily challenge. I literally remember thinking, “I can’t live with it…but can’t live without it.”

During my time as a working actress/model, I always thought I could loose another twenty pounds. I have no earthy idea, looking back, where those twenty pounds would have come from, but I had a firm vision in my head that they should be gone. Working in Canada was a bit easier, as the competition seemed to be a little more about who could do the best emotional range and a little less about who had the best boobs.

The other thing living in Toronto did, was give me more opportunity to expand my other creative outlets. I began to gain more confidence in my writing, and even go so far as to allow things I’d written to be submitted for competitions and even—God forbid—payment.

I also felt like I had accomplished a lot in the acting world. I’d done TV, movies, independent projects. I’d managed to get paid to act by reputable companies, and see a lot of my desires come to fruition. In a big way I was just plain ready to move on to something else for awhile.

In the years that followed, I went back to school, met my future husband, and finished my first full-length novel. I also managed to gain about forty pounds.

Here’s the thing, though; I was fine with it. I really feel like I had to “get fat” in order to get over a lot of my hang ups about weight, food, and what it means to be beautiful. Through the purging fire and cleansed out the other side or what have you.

And yet…

I have a wedding coming up this year. My wedding. And despite my newfound contentment with my larger form, a few things happened in quick accord that made me stop and really ask where I wanted to go from here. The first of which was my mother.

Her battles with weight definitely contributes to my own issues. I think the major difference is, she was naturally slender as a child and into her twenties. I wasn’t, so my weight/size has always been directly correlated with how much I worked out and ate. I won’t say that she never pressured me to be thinner, but it wasn’t in a mommy dearest scary way. If anything it was her own manifestations of fear projected onto me. That’s not what factored into my decision to loose some weight, though. What did, was when she told me that she was on a diet that not only required constant injections, but a daily caloric intake of only 500.

I recalled a month or two earlier, an Advanced Reader Copy of some new diet craze book showing up in the staffroom, and our subsequent discussions about dieting. Shortly thereafter, Random House held their bi-yearly bookseller preview where this same book was featured. The Dukan Diet, I was assured, was making huge waves in Europe.

I thought first of my mother. I took the book from the staffroom and started to read. A lot of what Dr. Dukan spoke about made sense to me, but the major appeal was that there was no counting involved with the overall diet. You just ate, as much as you wanted, whenever you wanted, from a given list of food. My personal interest, as they say, was peaked.

You see, my former job as a bookseller meant that my days never started or ended at the same time. I never knew exactly when my meals would be, or whether I’d be at all hungry (or practically starving) by the time they rolled around. The only other diet I’d ever been on (while I was acting) required you to eat every single four-hour period you were awake. I knew that wouldn’t work in my new situation. I needed flexibility in a diet.

But not so fast. Buzz is fine, but fad diets are called so for a reason, right? What about real people, and their real experiences? I was off to the races (er…rather, the internet) to find blogs, reviews, and just a better general understanding of who had done Dukan, and how things had turned out. I found a lot of positive stuff. (The negative seemed to be manly from people who hadn’t actually done the diet and were blasting it with their assumptions of what it was or wasn’t.) By pure luck, I stumbled upon a man with a self-proclaimed “keg stomach” who had written a funny, honest, and DAILY blog. Months were listed and the more I read about his journey with Dukan, the more I realized I wanted to do it.

I made the decision, set a start date, and phoned my mother to ask if she wanted to get off her crazy diet and try Dukan with me. She declined, but was overjoyed to hear I was taking the initiative. In the first two days I dropped five pounds. By the end of Phase One (Dukan sets out four Phases to take you from strict intake, all the way to “normal” eating) I’d lost ten pounds. After a full month, I was down almost twenty-five pounds.

My goal was to hit July first thirty pounds lighter and start Phase Three of the diet. I hit that marker before July first, and promptly stopped weighing myself. (I don’t need to be obsessed about the numbers. I hit my goal, and that’s what matters to me.) I can tell you with 100% confidence, however, that I’m actually still loosing weight.

You see, remember that whole getting married nonsense? Well, I had to get measured for my wedding dress. From the end of my weighing, until the second week of July, I’d managed to loose another inch. I can happily report that I’ve lost at least 32 pounds, at least 10 inches, and am down at least 6 clothing sizes.

The best part? I don’t have that crazy panic this time ‘round. I don’t feel like I’d look better if I could just loose another 5-10-15 lbs. I’m quite happy however the numbers fall. (Or don’t, as it may be.) And it’s so very nice to be able to walk into a store, grab a size, and know it will fit. Or better yet, dust off my old wardrobe and make it all new again.

Was it hard? No. But, I have pretty spectacular willpower. I also don’t decide to do anything unless I’m going to follow through with it. (See: career, acting and novel, ATSOU) Having said that, a diet where you can sit on the couch and eat all day (assuming the foods you eat are on “the list” and you get up at some point and walk around for 20 minutes) really isn’t difficult. Creativity really is required just so that you don’t get bored, and you HAVE to keep your pantry/fridge stocked at all times so you always have “list” food around to munch on. The only people I would outright say shouldn’t do the diet are vegans and pregnant women. (In both cases I just don’t know enough about the nutritional requirements of either to be certain you’d be getting everything you need.)

Oh, I should also mention that my own success prompted my mom to try Dukan herself. She’s currently down more than fourteen pounds. (And quite thrilled to actually be able to—you know—actually EAT something.)

Where we’ll go from here, I have no clue, but I know that I’ve got another half-year before I’m done my current Phase and I plan to stick with it. The only thing I can say to anyone looking for advice on Dukan is this: If you do it, it will work. That’s it.

Quote of the Moment:
My Cousin: "The only thing about gaining weight is-."

Ms.I: "The boobs."

My Cousin: "I KNOW! Amazing, right?"

Ms.I: "They're glorious."

Soundtrack of the Moment: USS, “N/A OK"
TV/Movie Quote: Big Bang Theory
Sheldon: You're not done with her, are you?
Leonard: Our babies will be smart and beautiful.
Sheldon: Not to mention imaginary.

Wow

2011-03-28T17:21:00.008-04:00

So...it's been over a year.

There was a big part of me that was ready to just let this one go. Yet I didn't. Why? Donno. Something just said, wouldn't it be funny if...

Which brings me to our next topic.

Um...I'm engaged. Hehehe. I can just see your faces! I've talked for how long about how this just wasn't for me? About how I'd never get together with a guy who wanted this?

Well, in my defense...

MFH never wanted to get married either...at least, that's what he always told me. The fist moment I ever remember really talking with him, we both agreed that there was nothing to married and all that nonsense. I have a slight suspicion that he always sort of wanted the little wifey and the three kids, but he kept it under his hat for the first majority of our dating history. I still regularly accuse him of leading me on...

So what's the story? It's long. And convoluted. I'll give you a separate example...

THE RING

So I was asked to be in my brother's (and now sister-in-law) wedding. I, of course, agreed. I'm not going to lie, it ended up being far, far crazier and more stressful than I expected...I found out the night before that the bride wanted me to do her makeup. THE NIGHT BEFORE!! I panicked about ruining her entire day. Having said that...Lindz (My sissy in all things legal) said this winter that I was, "everything you'd want in a perfect bridesmaid." What more could I ask for, honestly?

MFH went to the wedding, as my guest. Things were both tense, and stressful, as MFH was trying to make BIG impressions onto the Canadian Publishing industry. Yet...on the day...despite my pathetic deterioration into tears that is well documented, the day itself went really, really well. My favorite uncle--at least my closest uncle--was well-set to take care of me. Unfortunately this ended up being required. A longtime friend of the family asked me to a local wine bar. I agreed, excited for the potential of the night.

Oh the night...

Let me be VERY clear here, I was drunk. There was lots of fun things going on...My brothers wedding poured drinks at about 1 and 1/2 over the typical. And, since I had an average of "oh, we have to have a shot," with at least seven groups...yeah, I was drunk.

I remember asking my guy for a dance. As we were dancing he asked me to marry him. Now, dispute influence, I'd heard it before...so, of course, I said yes. (I found out later that MFH hadn't planned on asking me, it was spur of the moment.) I also found out later that after asking me, MFH talked to my Friend of the Family (FotF?) and his wife about the situation. She instantly asked about THE RING.

Well, since MFH hadn't planed to ask me then...there was no RING then. The FotF, upset, immediately pulled the RING off her finger and handed it to him. Mind you, this whole ordeal is removed from me. I had no idea until later. All I knew, was MFH got down on one knee, asked me again and handed me her/my ring.

Image:

I was VERY happy to have this ring for a year. I got complemented on it constantly. I also got to show it to any aggressive male for that time period.

I will interject here to say that I'm not a "diamond" girl. Not really okay with where they come from, nor am I okay with how they are expensive, um...intentionally. I kinda always wanted another stone...let me give you an exact wording form my spy novel: "The ruby engagement ring was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. A huge, princess cut, solitary ruby sat in a platinum setting high above several smaller square diamonds. Holding the ring up in profile showed two side-sitting hearts cut completely through the metal under each diamond."

Right...my "finale" ring isn't much different:

The diamond belongs to my mother. Or, at least, it's HER diamond. Still, I'm so very happy to have it. It means so much to me. I have an Heirloom so young. You know what I mean...

At the end of the day...I just hope to be there for my guy...but, more than that, I have to say I'm here for me.

He makes life easier...and if that's not a reason to get married, what is?

More to come...

- Ms.I

LOVE IT!

2010-02-19T14:50:00.000-05:00

Book Review: The Maze Runner

2009-10-02T18:48:00.004-04:00

I'm going to start this one by stating that the fantastic marketing team of Random House called this book a combination of Lord of the Flies and Hunger Games.

Heavy, no?

Well, I'm going to both agree... and disagree with this assessment. Weirdly enough, I'm going to say that both books apply... but add a dash of The Diary of Anne Frank.

I know, I know. Ms. I's gone off her rocker. What does a heartbreaking story of a prosicuted jewish girl have to do with Maze Runner?

Give me a moment, and I shall proceed...

The Maze Runner starts off with a boy in darkness. He has the sensation of moving... lifting. He remembers his name... but not how he got where he is... nor who gave him that name. When he stops moving, a slit above him grows into a hole filled with young, male faces. These are the Gladers--the boys who have rising up the same way this boy has; and have the same memory lapses they do.

The Glade is a society of boys--in the vein of Lord of the Flies--and they have a daily puzzle to solve (very likely under the surveillance of some unknown group of elders)--in the vein of Hunger Games. Yet while the creepy vale of uncertainty coalesces around the entire story, an underlying moral that is repeated time and again is, we are good...people are good...in the end, no matter what.

Sound formidable?

The boys make the very best situation they can out of an awful, experimental distopia. More than that, they want to be free. To solve the ultimate puzzle of their existence.

Despite their hardships, and author James Dashner 's obvious intentions on our torture while waiting for the second book, the reader gets the impression of a group of kids who will visit hell to save each other.

Even when the one and only girl arrives... And what to do when the "real world" might be worse than the experiment they're locked in?

Read it people. You won't be disappointed.

I’m Getting Old

2009-06-09T14:24:00.002-04:00

Clearly, it’s been awhile.

I don’t have much to say in my defense, beyond the fact that I’m ridiculously in love with MFH (My Future Husband), I’m currently in the process of moving in with him, I just started back at Nailor, and I managed to spend last weekend in the hospital.

Weirdly enough, I don’t want to talk about any of this. You see, during my hiatus, the thing that’s been weighing the heaviest upon my blogind (aka blogger mind) is kids these days.

I know, I know…I’m turning into one of those cranky-pants elderly people who shout at the youngens to get the heck off their perfect lawn. But seriously, I have a few bones to pick. And—I’m sorry to say—I’m not getting off of my soapbox until I get this out. The good news is, once I’m done with this long-awaited post, I can move on to other, funnier topics.

First and foremost, can I please impart some manners upon the youth of today? Wonderful. On we go…

When you are out in public, in a place were people of all ages and races gather to purchase or obtain knowledge, for the sake of all that is holy, do not sit on/make out with/give a lap dance to your bf/gf/fwb. Not only is this rather gross and disrespectful, it makes you look like losers. Honestly, you couldn’t find a better place to get felt up then the sports section of your local bookstore?! Don’t you have a bedroom? Does your home not have a basement or rec-room or something with a wall, door, and lock that will keep me from having to watch your awkward attempts at playing house? Hell, go sit at (the back of) the theatre and enjoy the darkness. Find a park—Hey, better yet, park a car! Whatever, just don’t be icky in public. No matter how horney you think you are, you can wait for a better time and place. Trust me on this one.

Now, in the above I mentioned using a movie theatre for a purpose contrary to its operating standards. Realize that I’m not a fan of this practice; however, I infinitely prefer this to Starbucks chair dances. (I do ask that you sit in the very back row. This is completely reasonable, after all I shouldn’t have to shift around your tongues to see the scene I spent eleven bucks to see. Savvy? Great, lets move on.) What I cannot give any leeway to, are you who use movie theatres for meeting centers away from the prying eyes of your parents. This isn’t just me being grumpy…it’s for your own perfection. If I can hear you talking about hooking up with some other chick’s boyfriend, who’s to say someone who knows said chick isn’t there to hear you as well? Also, as cool as your new phone/gaming device is, during the movie is not the time to play with/use it. Texting is so great, right? You can talk and you’re not being loud at all! Except let me tell you how effing distracting it is for me when the bright LCD lights up your screen enough to see everyone within a four seat radius from you. Keep it in your pants, kids. Turn them off, or leave the theatre if you want to chat/play.

More on the lets act more like adults and less like little children wanting to be adults…there is absolutely no reason for you to put gum on any surface whatsoever inside a building. I say this after pulling wads off of the inside of a shelf, the carpet, the side of the fireplace, and on our stepstool. We have multiple trash receptacles, people…USE them! This includes you who chose to leave your coffee/frap cups and food containers all over the store. GROW UP! I am not your mother, there is zero reason for me to pick up after you.

And speaking of mothers…Look, I don’t have kids. I guess you could say that I have no right telling anyone how to parent. I would counter that sentiment; however, by stating that I was once a child, I am a American Red Cross certified babysitter, and I have a little brother who was a professional instigator as a tot. I know that letting children climb on a rickety table housing a train set is not okay. I know that ripping dress-up clothing for purchase off hangers/bindings/tags and pulling them on is not okay. I know that throwing stuffed animals around until they are stuck on duct work is not okay. Fist fighting, toy train slinging, and incessant screaming are all not okay. I know this, you know this, we all know this. So please explain to me why—whenever I look at the parents of said children—the parents look at me like I should be the one handling it. Just so we’re clear, I made around twenty bucks an hour when I babysat, and Chapters sure as f**k ain’t paying me that. Even if they did, they certainly aren’t paying me to look after your child. In the words of the Immortal Stewie:“For god's sake get off your ass and do some parenting!”

Okay, I feel better now. Very cleansing, the vent. I recommend you all try it at some point.

Hopefully there will be more fun stuff soon.

Quote of the Moment:
MFH’s Aunt: Look, there is a find line between men luffa-ing and anal sex.
Ms.I: Oh... yep, that's the quote of the week.
MFH’s Cousin: MOM! Why is it always anal sex with you?!
Soundtrack of the Moment: Maianas Trench, “Cross My Heart”
TV/Movie Quote: Up:
Carl Fredricksen: Do you want to play a game? It's called See Who Can Go the Longest Without Saying Anything.
Russell: Cool! My mom loves that game!

Without Complaint

2009-03-26T00:07:00.004-04:00

I’ll admit it, I’m a little guilty that I didn’t post Oscar picks for this year. I mean, the major reason was (for the first time in memory) I hadn’t seen at least 80% of the total nominations. Three things I felt certain of and two of those things happened. (Yea, Slum Dog—hahaha…I totally just typed “Slum Dong” which I believe is an entirely different movie altogether—and Kate!)

I got my red velvet [cup]cake for my birthday. It was glorious. Well worth the trek downtown to get them. Between that, my friends/family/boyfriend, it was rather glorious all the way around. I missed MGFM, but he had to work until midnight, so…what can you do?

Speaking of the boyfriend, I’m in full-infatuation mode. It’s very gooshy and lame and so I shall leave it at that without giving away the boring details.

Brother and Lindz are officially engaged, and Lindz asked me to be a bridesmaid. I’m super-duper excited. It sucks that I’m not there, to help more, but I’m doing everything I can from my northern perch. They’re hoping to get it done quickly—before the end of fall this year—so I’m sure everything’s a bit too hectic for all parties concerned. They wanted a super small ceremony…but with ten uncles just on Brother’s side…well, 30 really isn’t a feasible number.

A big part of me has sort of rediscovered myself lately. Much like a song can bring back memories of a different place or time, I’m realizing extreme emotions can do the same. Love, for instance.

I’m finding myself remembering a lot of Austin, and my first few years of University. At first, I thought it was the weather. The spring here is a bit like winter in Austin. But it hit me quite suddenly that it had absolutely nothing to do with the weather. It has to do with my heart…with the contentment of knowing that someone is looking after mine with as much care as I am his. There’s a confidence that connection brings…a sort of…oh, dependability, I guess…that no matter how bad the day goes, wrapping up in his arms is guaranteed to lighten my disappointment.

A good friendship is the same way, but romance adds another level to it that is almost immeasurable. It’s a tweak, a slight alteration of that sense of home that always comes over me when I’m in range of Lauren’s smile or Cin’s giggle. It’s the way of letting go of fear and self-consciousness, without losing the innate sense of self.

It’s hard to complain of anything, under the circumstances.

;)

Quote of the Moment: “It’s not necessarily that I want a fuck buddy…I really just want someone to cuddle and dry hump.”
Soundtrack of the Moment: A.R. Rahman, “Jai Ho”

TV/Movie Quotes: Run Fatboy Run:

Gordon: Go on then, run!
Dennis: Isn't there some kind of like... special technique?
Gordon: Well... yeah... you put one leg in front of the other over and over again really really fast.

Who Knew?

2009-02-03T00:00:00.003-05:00

I’m generally considered to be an observant person. It’s hard to catch me off guard. I’m not easily startled. I notice stuff.

Except.

Every once in a while (a long, long while), I get blindsided. I think I’m paying attention…and then, all of a sudden, I get smacked upside the head with something that lays me out on my ass. Then I’m sitting there, looking back, going, “I’m sorry…what the HELL just happened?”

So…the fact that I’ve been hanging around someone for months…and out of the blue want to hang with him whenever I can is, to say the very least, startling. It made me wonder what the hell I’ve had my focus on for the last few months…and then I’m remembering everything I’ve had my focus on, and I give myself an extremely rare break.

I think I’m making this sound like a bad thing. It’s not. It’s a little unnerving, but it’s not bad. It’s actually rather nice.

The expression, “sometimes good things happen to bad people,” came up recently. I suppose it says a lot that I wasn’t sure if I was being called the good thing or the bad people in said expression. But it’s true that sometimes things you weren’t expecting…or even don’t think you deserve…pop up and make your world a little bit (or a lotta bit, as it were) more enjoyable.

Given it’s me we’re talking about here, I’m locked into my habitual—and really rather annoying— tradition of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Surely once he gets to know me better, he’ll see that I’m notsomuch of a great deal? Blah, blah, blah…nothing you all haven’t heard before.

Far weirder, is the running commentary going on around me. I mean, doesn’t anyone have anything better to do than be fascinated by my…er…love life? I get that I don’t really deal with that shit all that often. I’m not a big, mushy, hearts and flowers, Valentine’s and Weddings kinda chick. Still, does that make this tiny event in the world-wide scheme of things matter? Seriously?

I got a conference call from Nailor the other day, regarding a facebook relationship status change. I didn’t even change it to “in a relationship,” I just plain took it off. This, of course, was done forgetting that facebook feels the need to trumpet everything. So, a note explaining that I changed my status from single appeared on the pages of all of my friends. Lame. (Facebook, not my former co-workers…although that whole thing is hilarious as is.)

I don’t talk boys really to anyone…with the singular exception of Lauren. I mean…it’s boys. What’s there to say? Yes I like him…yes he’s nice…obviously I think he’s cute or I wouldn’t want to make out with him…done? Fantastic. Lauren and I can get down to the nitty-gritty…but she knows me better than anyone, so I don’t really have to get into the nitty-gritty for her to totally get what’s going on. (But I swear to GOD Lauren, if you say that thing you said a million times to me, I’m going to have to…well, let’s face facts here, there’s nothing I can do to you that wouldn’t just make my life more difficult, so…I’ll just be pouty. You know what I’m talking about…)

So…yeah, I have a boyfriend. It caught me completely off guard, it’s super new, and I’m enjoying myself. I’m playing it close to the chest, because it’s mine.

Honestly, I don’t know what more a TNF could ask for…

Quote of the Moment: “I can’t compete with your hair today. It’s unstoppable.”
Soundtrack of the Moment: Anberlin, “Paperthin Hymn”
TV/Movie Quotes: Daria:
Mr. O'Neill: You probably think about the dark side all the time.
Daria: The...dark side? Are we talking about "The Force"?

The Good, the Bad, and Nothing in Between

2009-01-25T20:43:00.005-05:00

Hesh. Seriously, what else is there to say? Hesh.

The past few weeks have been all over the freaken place. I had family/holiday time, heartbreaking/friendship time, and just plain random acts of WTF?. I don’t want to give off the impression that it was all bad, because that’s really not true at all. I had some really, really great days. I also had some of the hardest days of my life.

I did get the opportunity to hook up (via telephone) with Val. It’s got to be almost a year since we talked, and it was so great to just ramble for a few hours—although the stuff going on in her life seems no picnic either. I also got a completely unexpected apology from an even more unexpected source. Honestly, it was like getting birthday cake in June. Like, thanks man…my birthday’s in February, but who turns down cake?! Not I!

Something that I’ve said a million times to various parties, is all of the bad stuff would have killed me, if I was still unhappily working at Nailor. I truly believe that I would be ready to knock myself out with various pharmaceuticals for a couple of weeks if I wasn’t in such a good place in and of myself. So…yeah, thanks to school and Chapters and everyone for making me ready to deal with—if not quite handle—all of the bad.

Every day is better, although I feel like nothing will ever be the same again. And I’m starting to be okay with that. Moving on.

Anyone who’s read anything I’ve ever written, knows I have a bit of a thing for ravens. This came about during my summer in London…when I spent a week in a hotel right by the tower and used to go there a lot. I was shocked to find out that raven’s weren’t just the British version of a crow, but GIGANTIC black birds. Seriously, some of them looked like skinny black chickens. I became a little fixated on them, and the legends surrounding them. So…imagine my momentary freak-out when I spotted this:

I must constantly remind myself that I cannot cover my body in tattoos. (Cannot being more of a realistic thing, rather than a logistics thing. Clearly I COULD...it's really about whether or not I SHOULD.) The above picture totally reneges on all of that. Now, the only thing that stopped me from instantly running out and getting started on my new ink, is the fact that the ravens are clearly painted on. Now that, I feel like I could pull off. I’m thinking my birthday, and a backless black dress. If only I knew someone who was big into body painting. Well, let me rephrase…if I only knew someone who was a body painter who wouldn’t expect sex in exchange for services.

*sigh*

As far as my birthday goes, I’m still uncertain about details. I may be going to Montréal, I may just end up doing the bottle service thing downtown. Before Xmas, I was all about doing it up big. Now I just feel like being with people that matter to me, and worrying about the rest later. Maybe when people stop assuming I’m under 18, I’ll start worrying about my age...then again, my champagne birthday will only happen once.

Er...of course, it’s not all about me. :p

Except when it is...like yesterday, for instance. MGFM and I went to go see a movie together. I played a good little fruit fly and dressed up for the event. I also brought my Zune. MGFM has this hilarious habit of listening to my most recent playlists and falling in love with one song or another. He also enjoys finding songs that remind him of me. For forever, it was Nickleback’s "Next Contestant". He cracked himself up with that one. Now it’s “Bad Girlfriend” by Theory of a Deadman. Instead of “My girlfriend’s a dick magnet,” MGFM screams out the lyrics as “My BEST FRIEND’s a dick magnet!”

And he wonders why none of his relationships like us hanging out. ;)

Before I sign off, I’d just like to give thanks to the godsend (Godsends?) that are my friendships. Because of you guys, I managed to hang onto what little I have left of my sanity. For that I am eternally grateful. I just hope that I’m at least half as good a friend to you…

Wishing everyone all the best in life, love, and luck for 2009!

Quote of the Moment: "He doesn’t like it when I go out with you, because he thinks that we’ll pick up boys together. You’re too cute, he’d rather me go out with one of my ugly friends…because…you know, ugly doesn’t attract people.”
Soundtrack of the Moment: Theory of a Deadman, “Bad Girlfriend”

TV/Movie Quotes: Dirty Driving: Thundercars of Indiana: [Announcer, over the PA system] I just want to thank you all for patronizing us today.

WTF?

2009-01-01T23:32:00.001-05:00

How did I not know about this?

Stages of Greif

2008-12-30T22:16:00.001-05:00

Oldie, but a goodie...especially now...

In the Meantime...

2008-12-17T23:38:00.004-05:00

Right. So much to say. No time to say it.

I don't know if anything will get better before Christmas...so don't expect any posts...that way, if there is one, it will be a Christmas miracle! Yeah!

Until then...

It's Begining to Look A Lot Like...

2008-12-12T00:54:00.002-05:00

Christmas is nearly here, you guys! Who’s excited?! I AM!

I talked to Mom yesterday, which was super fun. She’s such a funny lady. Honestly, I don’t know how I live without her. So many people up here either live with their parents or live rather near them…I’m totally and utterly jealous of them all.

We talked about a bunch of stuff, but the funniest thing was her discussing Twilight with me…then another vampire series I got her started on. I expressed my empathy for the stars of the movie…and how crazy it’s been…and how it’s insane that these young girls are confusing the character of Edward Cullen with the actor Robert Pattinson. She reminded me that I had my own rather extreme fixation on one Devon Sawa (Although she hilariously called him “Kevin”) back in the day, and I had to remind her that I:
1. Never asked/demanded/coerced her to drive to wherever said actor was acting/living/appearing.
2. Never shrieked at such a pitch that some poor standerby would lose his/her hearing.
3. Never actually thought he was Casper or Junior.
And, most importantly, 4: Never proposed marriage to the dude.
When Paris Hilton came up…and the phenomenon of being a celebrity of, well, being a celebrity, I totally won the argument after that. :p

She’ll be up in about a week...Brother and Linz will be in a couple days before. It’s so darn crazy to think about it, since they’ve been away for so long. It’s really, really wonderful. It’ll be the first time I (legally) go out with the two “youngens.” I’m really hoping the C Lounge does it’s ICE Lounge again, because it’s such a blast. And, honestly, where else are they going to go that’s like that and NOT an igloo? Plus…if I can talk my way in for free twice, I can do it again. (Oh, how confident I am whilst filled with vodka. Um…not that I am right now…but I will be, in theory, while there. You know what? Forget I said anything.)

Speaking of filled with vodka, I’m trying to get some people from work together for drinks tomorrow after work. Fun, right? Well, we’ll see. It may end up being me, alone, with a(n extra, extra, dry) martini…but at this point I’m trying to be positive. I really like all the work crew—as you all know—and it would be cool to feel like a more permanent part of them…

Of course, this is nothing compared to the Great Twin Meet-Up of 2008. (You know, I should be careful…I feel like that might actually be an existing event. Google? No? Hmm, interesting.) You remember the chick on my online community who pretty much has the same likes/dislikes/history as me? After telling my mother about this and explaining the situation, she let me know that she most definitely did not have a child when Twin was born. I feel like Twin and I are both rather aware of this, but it was still rather hilarious to hear. Well, we’re getting together Saturday, in person. I’ve promised her I’d bring my tiara (and a Twilight bookmark), and really, what more can a girl ask for?

More on that as it happens…

In other news…I read a blog today that was along the lines of “What where we doing a year ago?” As such, I figured I’d check it out myself…So the December 2007 blog is a couple days off…but it’s still pretty darn funny, right?

Goodnight sweethearts. ;)

Quote of the Moment: "[He] was supposed to do something for me today, and I hadn't heard from him. So I just texted him, and he was like, “Sorry, got to reading and I got sucked in. You understand. Volturi.”
Soundtrack of the Moment: Kings of Leon, “Soft”
TV/Movie Quotes: The Office(USA): Would I rather be feared or loved? Um...easy: both. I want people to be afraid of how much they love me.

PC: 3

2008-12-09T00:09:00.005-05:00

If you haven't already, read this...and then this.

Catherine wasn’t daft enough to assume that her father had no sort of scheme up his well-tailored sleeve, but—seeing as she could not find the where or the why of it—she let the matter rest as it may. “Yes Daddy.”

“You were sure to pack your work clothes as well as a bit of your finery separate from all the rest, Cate?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“You shall listen with all good-faith and respect to Mr. Sawyer.”

“Yes Daddy.”

“The others, you have means to listen to, only should your own good judgment come to the first moment of failing you.”

She laughed a little, “Yes Daddy.”

Continue reading...

“Blue stays, Cate, to travel with your mother and myself.”

“But Daddy!”

“Now, Cate, you’ve spent a lot of your time on that colt, and I don’t want to see him taken by some silly accident.”

Catherine made her disagreement known in her tone, “Yes Daddy.”

“Yankee too.”

“Daddy!” Her objection startled some of the waiting animals. “He won’t stay calm away from me for so long. And who am I to ride from here to San Francisco? Some flea-bitten nag not worth its hide in trade?”

“Catherine Louisa Rochester Van Yorne.”

She quieted immediately at the use of her full given name, then responded with an equally lackluster, “Yes Daddy.”

Robert watched in detached amusement as the family said their goodbyes. Catherine seemed resigned to her fate, even stood waiting patiently for the cow-horse to be brought up for her to ride. Yet, as the grooms trotted the small cluster of thoroughbreds back towards the stable car, her dark mood lifted a bit at the edges. Robert had seen enough of men and animals in his life to recognize a look like that when he saw it. There was nothing at all agreeable in Miss Van Yorne’s expression.

Catherine bided her time, waiting for the moment to present itself to her, as opposed to running for it like she wanted to. There was only one chance to get the thing right, and she wouldn’t jump the gun just because she was more angry then reasonable. Just as she suspected, one horse after another loaded into the car, but Yank shied away from the restarting engine. His groom lead him around and behind one horse after another, until there were no more left, and the train whistled its last warning before departure.

Catherine could hear her father shouting orders to the groom from the car ahead, trying to give him the magic set of cues that would put the big chestnut up the ramp and safely tucked away in his stall. The gears began to turn, steam hissing free from its captivity. Now, she thought and let out her own whistle in two tones; one high and short, the other low and long. Yankee went up on his hind legs, freeing himself easily from his flustered groom, then darted away from the train with the speed he’d become famous for. Breaking likewise from the group, Catherine sprinted to a trajectory slightly in front of where Yankee headed.

They came together like the whole thing had been choreographed. She reached back behind her for his thick mane, using his momentum and the leverage of her forearms on his shoulders to hall her up onto his bare back. Firmly seated, she reached forward as the long lead swung back, and caught that almost as easily. She let him chase the train for a bit, in that moment not caring a lick what her punishment might be whenever they finally made it into San Francisco. When he had his fill of freedom, she asked her oldest friend to turn back to where her astonished escorts waited.

That was the big secret to riding Yankee; instead of telling him where to go, you asked nicely. Usually, he’d agree.

Returning to the loose cluster of lawman and cowboys, Catherine dismounted and walked Yank to the only free, saddled horse left to the bunch. She switched the tack from the one horse onto Yank, tucking his lead and halter into her roll bag. That done, she mounted, and looked expectantly at the men on the ground before her. “Shall we, gentlemen?”

The men scrambled up and on to task, looking for all the world like a bunch of little boys caught off from work by the head boss. Robert, on his blue-eyed, grey-roan mount, trotted by and gave her a short tilt of his fingers to his hat. She couldn’t be certain, but she thought she heard him chuckling as he lead the way.

*

Robert tried not to watch Catherine set herself up for sleep in the camp’s single tent. Or, mores to the point, he tried not to let anyone notice him watching her buckle down for the night. She moved carefully, no doubt feeling her body’s objections to a nearly seven hour ride, but she hadn’t uttered a single complaint. She laughed when the jokes were appropriate, and pretended not to hear when the boys got too colorful for the ears of a lady. She led them all in a few songs, even told a story or two to help with the passing of time.

When they’d all made the decision to lay camp for the night, Catherine had carried at least her share of chores, and neither demanded nor took more than her ration of food. She’d quietly excused herself to take care of her personal business, and then returned to sit with the lot of them around the fire. Yankee, just as tired as the rest for his day’s efforts, stood quietly with the herd, happy to be fed, watered, untacked, and not trudging along more of the same rocky sand.

After hiding another yawn, Catherine wished the men a good sleep and turned into her tent to get some of her own. She removed her hat and boots; the first serving to remind him of how much hair she had hidden up in it, and the second proving him correct that she felt more discomfort than she let on. Swatches of rust-red stained her white stockings at the heel of one foot and the toe of the other.

Frowning, Robert went to where he’d staked out his sleeping spot and pulled a tin of lanolin and bit of rag out of his saddle pack. He carried his small offering to her slowly, wondering how, exactly, he could play the thing so that she obeyed without offense.

Finding himself at the open fold of the tent before coming to any real conclusions, he attempted casual conversation. “Long day in the saddle, Miss Van Yorne.”

She started, so intent on inspecting her bloody stockings, she hadn’t even noticed his approach. “Oh! Mr. Sawyer, you ‘bout scared me out of my skin!”

“Apologies, ma’am.”

“Cate,” she corrected absently. “Did you need something, Mr. Sawyer?”

“Robert,” he countered likewise. “Your boots aren’t new, nor are your riding skills; but I gander that a lady like yourself has no reason to spend the entire day on horseback. Body and gear alike tend to forget themselves in the face of such a thing.” She said nothing to encourage him, but neither did she speak against his words. He continued, “I wasn’t much younger than you when I set out on my first drive west. I’d spent all sorts of time training horses for the solders in the Carolinas, so I didn’t figure it would be any different at tall to ride in a straight line for a whole day. I’d even bought new boots and chaps for the journey. The first day, I was far worse off than you are now. By the end of that first week, when we camped down, I couldn’t take either my boots or my chaps off me, seeing as they both had cut so deep into my skin. Santos, this Mexican hand, being the decent sort who—in his own words—had a thing or two to atone for from past indiscretions, gave me the greatest lesson I’ve ever gotten about life on the trail.” He handed her the tin and rag. “The oil helps the leather give into your shape faster; helps your skin from breaking under the assault. It also keeps you from getting as wet in the rains.”

She took the items slowly, as if uncertain of what he might expect as payment. “Thank you, Robert.”

While he wanted to whoop out at her first unrequested usage of his Christian name, he instead turned away from the sight of her and started back for the fire. “Give ‘em a good rub, inside and out; onceover on the sole of your foot. And don’t you be worried about returning that tin for a few days. When you can take off your boots without seeing color, you can think about getting it back to me.”

*

The next few days passed in much the same way as the ones before them. Catherine felt almost as though she could fall asleep in the saddle, as long as she stay on it, and Yankee wouldn’t be much affected regardless. She enjoyed some of the trip. The way the men slowly eased into the realization that she didn’t bite, and didn’t whine, and knew when to speak and when to leave well enough alone made her especially happy. As if she might finally be accepted as one of their own.

Still, not everything went easily. All the men save Sawyer still all clambered over one another for the right to serve her coffee in the morning. And she still couldn’t seem to get used to seeing some of the lot shirtless before, after, and sometimes during, the ride.

The one thing she was recognizing, slowly creeping in day by day, was her growing interest in Robert Sawyer’s—occasionally shirtless—person. Besides the salvation he bestowed upon her that first day—in the rather humble form of a grease slopped tin and dirty rag—he’d barely taken a moment to speak to her. Oh, he gave her orders…what kind of water was safe to bathe in and what wasn’t…how far to go from camp to have privacy but still be well within range of hearing should something go wrong. But as for conversation, Sawyer gave her nothing at all.

Now they were finally coming upon a true town—Dodge City, Kansas—and were all looking forward to a night of real food, a real wash, and a real bed. Sawyer led them into town, checked the majority of their firearms with the Sheriff, put their horses up at the livery, and walked the lot up to the hotel. “Mark and Travis, you two come with me. The rest of you…” he trailed off, glancing swiftly at and away from her, “…be ready to ride by ten.”

The general exuberance given off by the men at leave confused Catherine…until she saw the brightly—and scantily clothed ladies waving over the balcony of the building they all went to enter. Mind set only on a good bath, she went to enter the hotel lobby. Sawyer stepped into her path, and she knocked into him. Even though she’d seen his naked torso, the solidness of him still surprised her.

He took her waist in his hands to steady her, then set her back away from the entrance. “Boys, watch Miss Van Yorne while I procure us some rooms.”

She watched him leave with pure, extracted befuddlement.

Robert took off his hat and rose himself up as he entered the hotel. He knew there was nothing to be done about the dust and grime that clung to his person, but attitude and presence could win you a lot in a place like Dodge City. Whatever couldn’t be won by that alone, was made up by the offer of gold or cash. With that in mind, he walked up to the front desk and asked for three rooms, all in a row, preferably starting from a corner.

The weaselly little man behind the counter looked at him with dark, beady eyes. “You have to check your guns in with the sheriff before entering any establishment in Dodge City.”

“Already done, Sir.”

The man gained a marginal amount of politeness, “I see; you’ve been here before then, Mr..?”

“Sawyer. I’m afraid the first time I was in Dodge, the closest thing you had to a hotel was made up of burlap and rotting wood. The last time, I was lucky enough to stay in the curtsey of the Eurps, so I’ve never had the honor of patronage to your hotel. However,” he pulled the bills he’d pre-counted from his shirt pocket, counting four out onto the counter, “I’m now in need of three rooms. A lady travels with us, a daughter of my employer. She’ll be needing the corner room, if available, and a hot tub as soon as it can be brought.”

The beady little eyes took in the extra bills as Robert laid them down. “Oh, yes sir.”

“If possible, I’d like the same brought in for myself…in the room adjacent to my lady’s.”

“That is not a problem, sir. And when will your lady be arriving?”

“Presently, via escort, of course. If you can have the tub ready for her, I’ll be certain to introduce her to the man responsible for her comfort.”

“Yes, sir,” the man extended his hand, a lacy ruffle extending from under his jacket sleeve. “I’m Tomas, owner and manager of the Sapphire hotel.”

Robert tried not to make a show of whipping his hand off on his chaps. “Robert Sawyer.”

Tomas handed him the three keys, holding the last up special, to indicate its order of importance. “And your lady, sir?” Tomas raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

“For reasons of personal safety, requests to remain anonymous at this point and time.” Robert didn’t wait for further inquires, but went out to gather the quiet trio awaiting him on the sidewalk. “Miss Van Yorne, keep your head down and don’t speak to anyone.” He handed her the key to her room. “Go into the corner room, a bath should be waiting for you. Strip, and set your clothing outside the door.” He turned to the two men, “Boys, make sure she gets up the stairs unbothered. Open and check the third room, lock it down, and make enough of a mess to look like someone’s living in it. I’ll bring in her clothes, which you’ll have to change into, Travis. Leave what you’re wearing in the room, I’ll make sure it gets back to you. Then you two are free to join the others. Understood?”

All that decided, the trio entered the building just after Sawyer. He, himself, made a big show of questioning Tomas about the local wares for sale and recommendations on dinner. The distraction proved just enough to get Catherine up the stairs and into her room unnoticed. From there, the plan went exactly as he had dictated it.

Rather, almost exactly.

New Features are Fun!

2008-12-07T01:12:00.003-05:00

Right, so I added a playlist to the right-hand side there. (If you're reading this anywhere but Running Commentary, my blog, then go to the following link to figure out what the heck I'm yammering about: http://www.msisabella.blogspot.com/)

Basically the idea is, those songs are the ones I can't stop singing. In the shower, in the car, doing the dishes...you get the idea. They may change daily...they may be around for awhile. They are not necessarily even my most favorite music. (Don't you HATE when you get a song into your head and you can't stop singing it?) It's just what I can't stop singing. Well, the top 10 things I can't stop singing.

I'm still going to be posting "Soundtrack of the Moment" songs...because those are different in a more OCD extreme way...but the Playlist is new, and I just wanted to do some pointing and smiling so everyone spotted it.

So...we've all seen it now? We know why it's there? Fantastic.

Now I can go to bed. :)

Lists, Love, and Limitlessness

2008-12-05T23:14:00.006-05:00

I’m a rather active member on several blogs/games/etc online. One of the biggest is my “position” with Chapters’ Community as a “news girl” and general forebringer of hotness and entertainment news. I’m fully comfortable with this issue, for many reasons ranging from my history with the arts to my history with obsessing over the arts. I always know who’s in what and who’s doing who (whom?). I’ve meet actors and singers and athletes. I had a really whirlwind year of hanging out with a professional groupie that I still look back upon with a bemused sort of smile, despite the unfortunate events that followed our breakup.

But seriously, guys, I must be getting old. Why you ask? Because I keep saying, “I just don’t get these kids these days.” I only know who the Jonas brothers are because my Dad’s gf’s daughters are OBSESSED with them. I feel like more and more, I keep seeing these young Disney poptartlets and I’m like, “Who is that, again?”

More in that line of fun, I was watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas (the live action one with Jim Carrey) and I suddenly realized why that chick on Gossip Girl looked so damn familiar to me. Because she was Cindy Lou Who! Love when shit like that happens in my world.

Once again, I’m getting off track. Forget about me being concerned about getting behind the “cool kids.” Instead, let’s move on to the reason why I started this blog in the first place. On one of our community posts, my possible twin posted something regarding your top 5 celebs and top 5 fictional characters (we wish were real). It’s the pseudo-list of “bys” that you get in a relationship…sort of like a get out of jail free card…as if, by putting them out in the open ahead of time, no one would be affronted by the charge. I enjoy “the list” in theory as much as I do in practice, but it’s impossible for me to hear this line of thinking without recalling the Friends episode where Ross bumps Isabella Rossellini from his list…only to run into her later on the same day.

My list is posted there, but I figure I’ll do it here as well. (In no particular order)

Talyor Kitsch:

Jason Lewis:

Brad Pitt:

Christian Bale:

Megan Fox:(Yes, I realize I’m a woman of the cock—doesn’t mean I don’t give credit where it’s due. There’s always a chick I’d be willing to reconsider for…so, there you go.)

Now…on to the possibly more interesting…we discussed how it’s easy to let an actor playing a character take over your opinion of said character. As in…Timothy Olyphant is hot, even though he was the bad guy in Live Free or Die Hard…so you kinda couldn’t totally hate him. :p (I know that’s a lame example, but I can’t help that I can’t come up with a better one on short notice.)

Me, personally, I have issues with “crushing” on a character who is life-alteringly in love with someone else. It’s sort of a what’s the point? But, since they’re fictional anyways, it was fun for me to give my list for that as well. Ironically—or maybe notsomuch considering all things—Edward Cullen appeared over and over again.

My main fictional man is, of course, Westley.Sigh…it’s not the actor—no offense intended to Cary Elwse. It’s just Westley…just…how he is with Buttercup. The way he puts his pride last, no matter her slight against him. How he just loves her enough to…anything. “Life is pain” he promised her, but he also promised that “death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.” If there’s a dread pirate Westley out there, I will likely reconsider all my preconceived notions on marriage and family and all the rest. Er…hold…rewind…if there is a Westley out there WHO WANTS ME…speed forward tape. :}

In the meantime, I’m just happy to deal with me. I’m really enjoying myself at work (even though cute starbucks boy has been MIA since I started working; boo), as you all well know. And, the other day, I found this book while I’m helping put stuff away in the discount section. One of my work buddies was listening to me ramble off about how I have the original Book of Answers and how it’s actually done me some good in the past…and he suggests that I give the love book a try. On a whim, giggly and with little more than then minutes left in my shift, I run my hands along the spine and say, “Will I end up with a celebrity?”

The answer—which was later given further credence by my coworker—was spectacular. My coworker…although he wouldn’t tell me the questions he asked, assured me that the answers were spot on to the advice he’d been given in real life from his friends/fam/etc. So what was the answer to my ridiculous little question, you ask?

“Start at the bottom and work your way up.”

Huh. You know, I just might do that. ;)

Quote of the Moment: "I think she thought I was after her, so I told her I was a sister of the cock, but then she thought I said cloth, so the whole thing got completely insane from there.”
Soundtrack of the Moment: Boys Like Girls, “Thunder”
TV/Movie Quotes: How the Grinch Stole Christmas:
Martha May Whovier: Did I have a crush on the Grinch? Of COURSE not.
Cindy Lou Who: Uh... I didn't ask you that.

It's Happy, Bitch!

2008-12-03T21:27:00.004-05:00

Work, work, work. My life has become working, reading, writing, and…happiness? Huh, who knew?

I’m sure it’s something that is really obvious to all of you out there. You guys see through my shit pretty easily. Still, it surprised me the other day…just standing around a work shelving books. And I was grinning like an idiot. Happy, just for the sake of it. Not because I’m trying so hard.

Just like everything, it all seems to go together. I’ve been doing my hair every day, changing my makeup and just generally taking care of me. If you’re a guy, none of that may sound like anything, but if you’re a girl, I think you’ll understand. There’s something about wanting to be cute and put myself out there that just doesn’t happen unless I’m really, truly happy.

The last time I remember feeling this way was when I had my agent and was filming in Houston…and Austin. I really, truly started to just have fun for me. I miss that (not necessarily the filming, but the happy)…or I do now…now that I’m realizing there was something to miss in the first place.

Some of this is likely the whole quarter-life crisis thing…or, maybe it’s not, but it seems possible. Maybe…hmm. Regardless, I’m getting off track here. What was I talking about?

Right!

Another thing that might make sense for most people is my connection with Britney Spears. Ha. It’s not like we’re actually friends. I’ve never even met the girl. (Someone please tell me how I’ve run into Paris Hilton twice and yet have never managed to be in the same room as Britney Spears? Seriously?) I did do a song and dance routine to Crazy back in high school, playing Britney. Britney was one of my two most used nicknames. I just…I feel a kinship with the girl, okay?

So it makes me really, super happy to see her fit and smiling and talking about coming back out of the darkness. She says this line, “I’m a smart girl…what the hell was I thinking?” and I’m sitting there (that’s a blatant lie, I was dancing around my living room and seeing if I could still do a triple pirouette without getting dizzy) and I start smiling and nodding at her. I get you, Brit-babe. Been there, with you, hope the best for you.

Happiness is fun. And, weirdly it’s probably the only thing that I can say (with zero self-consciousness and total confidence) looks good on me. Happiness looks good on me.

Rock on!

Quote of the Moment: "If I lived back then, I’d totally have both hands cut off. My tongue, probably too.”
Soundtrack of the Moment: Britney Spears, “Circus”

TV/Movie Quotes: Garden State: If you can't laugh at yourself, life's gonna seem a whole lot longer than you like.

Frog Love

2008-11-26T00:08:00.002-05:00

Speak into the Twilight

2008-11-23T19:51:00.002-05:00

I have this weird memory…a regret, I suppose. I was in my Senior Ecco/Gov class, and hung around with a bunch of kids who I wasn’t really friends with, but was very friendly with. A girl said something—something that caught me off-guard the way the use of the “N word” does by someone who should know better—and I muttered something along the lines of, “Wow, people really surprise you, sometimes.”

This in and of itself isn’t a murdering offense, I suppose. It’s true, in a bare, mean sort of way. I didn’t mean to be insulting when I said it, it just sort of popped out of my mouth as I thought it. Yet those words haunt me a little.

A girl standing next to me happened to overhear me. She’d mentioned something earlier…asking if she could talk to me alone later…if I’d mind giving her some advice. What I said scared her off. I never found out what she needed to say, only that my unintentional prejudice meant that she never told me. Every once in awhile I think about that, and I hope that she wasn’t looking for an outlet to confess something awful. High school can be mean enough without feeling like you can’t talk to anyone.

What’s bringing all this up, you ask? I just finished a book, one I’d highly recommend, called Speak. Without giving too much away, this freshman girl starts high school badly. She called the cops at the big summer party, leading to arrests and all sorts of social bad Karma. Thing is, she can’t talk about why she did it. Truth be told, she doesn’t really talk about much of anything. The reader, though, gets the benefit of being in her head. And in her head, silence is nonexistent. Highly recommend.

So, after all the wait, I finally saw the Twilight movie. Before I go on, I liked it. I liked how they did the sparkles, I liked how they did the casting..mostly (Rosalie will forever be Olivia Wilde in my mind.), I even liked most of what was added and/or changed. I’ve heard lots of nastiness about the above, but I’m ignoring it. I want to see it again. (I’d also like an illegal DVD copy of my own. Immediately. Thanks.) There was lots I didn’t like. But, to sum-up, I feel like it’s a great starting point for the series. Also, you don’t have to have read the book to enjoy the movie MGFM loved it, and he’s scared of books. (Exact quote: “It was just so…romantic.”)

Lauren and I, incidentally, spent an increment longer than the actual movie discussing the movie. There was much giggling. And, really, my deepest regret is that I wasn’t there with her or that she wasn’t here with me. Again this year I won’t be able to see her for Christmas. It’s been a while, longer than I’d like. And it’s all the more annoying, because of all the time in the past I’ve been able to visit her.

It’s like…okay, don’t laugh…but it’s like your first love or a long span of sex…um…what’s an antonym for “frustration”? Or even a night of really good sleep. It’s not something you appreciate until you don’t have it anymore. I’m not going to wax paranoiac about the financial state of affairs of myself and the rest of the world, just suffice it to say that I’m not planning on jumping on a plane every couple of weeks. Or…even…every couple of months. I’m missing the jet setting lifestyle, but most of all I’m missing the people who I got to see on said jet-sets.

You see, I’ve spent such a long time in the past while being unhappy at work…unhappy with my home life…unhappy, unhappy…that I really didn’t have to look far to frown. Now a days, I find myself happy…happy…and happy…except for missing those I love. I miss so many, and that’s my only real unhappiness right now. Just like the love and the sex and the sleep, I didn’t realize how much I missed everyone until I was happy enough to miss them. Dang it.

Still, must not be unappreciative of the greatest things I’ve been dealing with of late. Be thankful, everyday, for something. And I am. It’s not enough forever. But it’s enough for now.

Quote of the Moment: "GO! KILL THE BABIES!!!”
Soundtrack of the Moment: Taylor Swift, “Love Story”
TV/Movie Quotes: Twilight:
Edward Cullen: Do you trust me?
Isabella Swan: In theory.

If Only...

2008-11-13T20:58:00.001-05:00

Halloween Stardust

2008-11-03T01:16:00.002-05:00

Halloween is here! Yea, Halloween. It’s so fun to play as another person…even if you can’t find one of the two required fangs to be a vampire…and end up just being a witch instead. Don’t ask, don’t tell, kinda thing. :p (Actually it’s more a ‘I have no clue how one fang disappeared in the course of a year…and maybe I don’t want to know,' thing.)

I got about the nicest rejection letter EVER yesterday. To quote: “We have carefully read your story and while it has merit, it is not exactly what we are looking for at this time. Your writing style is commendable and we would encourage you to send other stories that you feel might be appropriate.”

Nice, right? See, this is why I’m not disappointed. I’ve been told that if they write back at all, you’re doing something right, but this seemed above and beyond the basic form letter.

Moving on.

I’m officially working again. Chapters has declared me one of their own. I wish I could express to everyone how much I love this job. Honestly, I feel like I’m at home, when I’m working. I recommend books, put things in order, and make sure everything looks pretty. My life rocks. It’s a little silly, really, how excited/happy I am to be doing another hourly/retail gig, but I can’t deny that I am, in fact, enjoying myself. Everyone is an English major or a grad student…there is even a real live author running around and making an impact. What more could a girl like me ask for?

Seriously, I feel like I’ve gone to Mecca, and am now surrounded by all “my people.” Everyone seems to like me, and most everyone seems to have my sense of humor. I’m not even going to get into the cute boy who works at the attached Starbucks who I happen to find super cute. (Clearly, I found him cute before I started working there, it’s just more of an opportunity now that I actually work NEAR him. :P )

I’ll update when/if more info becomes available.

Recently read Stardust. I liked it lots, but—oddly enough—I actually liked the movie better. That has happened to me only twice, this being one of the two times. The other was the Princess Bride. In that instance, it may have just been that I knew the movie so well, I could recite it, and the book didn’t exactly match. For Stardust, I think the story was just better served in the movie. Plus, it’s hard to go wrong with De Niro, Pfeiffer, Danes, O’Toole, Henry Cavill, Ricky Gervais, and relatively new (but hot) Ben Barnes. Oh, and there’s Unicorns (In both versions, actually, but movie Unicorns rock my world! Parenthetical shout-out to Legend! Yea!).

Shut up! Unicorns are cool. You know you want one. You know you’ll name him “Creamed Corn.” (Don’t ask.) Or maybe “Candy Corn.” Regardless, the Unicorn is where it’s at.

*Sigh* I’m rambling, aren’t I? Well, perhaps this is the natural place to end, then….

Quote of the Moment(X3): "Part of being a narcissist is being terribly insecure. If I wasn’t so insecure about myself I wouldn’t work as hard as I do. I am constantly seeking approval."

[New hire, looking around bookstore]: “I don’t really…you know…read.”

“As always [you’re], the rock of my insanity. Um...I'm not sure that came out the way I intended it to. So...yeah, forget that. The calm in my storm!”

Soundtrack of the Moment: PCD, “Whatchamacallit”
TV/Movie Quote(X3): Stardust:
Captain Shakespeare: And, Yvaine, I have some lovely dresses; take your pick.
Yvaine: [surprised] I'm fine.
Captain Shakespeare: [quietly] Honey... you're wearing a bathrobe.

[after finding themselves stranded on a cloud]
Tristan: What the hell did you do?
Yvaine: What did I do? What did YOU do? Think of home? That was a GREAT plan! You thought of your home and I thought of mine and now we're halfway between the two!
Tristan: Well you stupid cow! What did you think of your home for?
Yvaine: You just said home! If you wanted me to think of your home you should have said!
Tristan: Some crazy lady was going to cut your heart out and you wanted more specific instructions?! Perhaps you'd want it in writing or a diagram maybe?

Yvaine: [tied up, back to back, in the pirate ship] Tell me about Victoria.
Tristan: Well, she... she... There's nothing else to tell you.
Yvaine: The little I know about love is that it's unconditional. It's not something you can buy.
Tristan: Hang on! This wasn't about me trying to buy her love. This was to prove to her how I felt.
Yvaine: Ah... And what's she doing to prove how she feels about you?
Tristan: Well... Look, Yvaine, you'll understand when you meet her, all right? If we don't get murdered by pirates first.
Yvaine: Mmm... Murdered by pirates, heart torn out and eaten, meet Victoria... I can't quite decide which sounds more fun...

This is Love, defined...

2008-10-31T02:27:00.002-04:00

Oh, How I Understand...

2008-10-30T22:23:00.000-04:00

PC: Chapter 2

2008-10-24T23:41:00.004-04:00

Van Yorne looked over the half a dozen men Sawyer had called into New York with him. They were all young men, but not enough to be wet behind the ears. If he knew Sawyer like he thought he did, these six youths would have seen more in both gun action and life lessons than the majority of men twice their ages. They were hard, heavy men that knew how to listen and didn’t mind taking orders. Mixed in backgrounds, if Van Yorne read them right, but that didn’t bother him as much as it would have to any other man in his position; He’d seen what mixed blood could to improve a man.

“This is the most trusted of my crew from back home. I vouch for any of these men as if they were me, myself.”

Continue reading...

“I have four, to add to your party,” Van Yorne saw Sawyer’s hesitation, and understood the why of it as well. It didn’t, however, change his mind. “That isn’t something I can argue with you about, Sawyer. Those boys of yours are fine, no question; but, when it comes to my child, I have to put my hands onto this as much as possible.”

“I can’t speak for your men.”

“No, nor should you.”

“If something should happen…”

“I’d give you full rights, Rob. If one of them does anything you deem a killing offense, you have my blessing to see to it.”

“I don’t kill, Van Yorne.” The missing word in that sentence knocked him off guard, but the look on Sawyer’s face stopped him cold. “Ever.”

“I meant no offense, Rob. I—.”

Sawyer waved this mess away. “If one of them steps out of turn, I’ll do what needs be done. They’ll leave broken or comeback bruised.”

“Agreed. I’ve got you a bed in with us. Five of the men in the car before ours and five in the car behind. “I’m assuming you’d prefer to split your six down the middle?”

“I would.”

“Name ‘em, and we’ll do it as you’d like.”

That settled, the men separated, one to his family, and the other to both his old and new crew.

*

Catherine stood out on the platform of Grand Central Depot, awaiting the arrival of the rest of her family and bodyguards with her mother. The two were surrounded on all sides by women in various colors and quality of fabric. Some of them were so lost in laudanum, their sickly pallor presented so clearly, they could barely fain any interest in the conversations going around them. Catherine ignored the women and enjoyed the time with her mother, talking quietly of simple, important things her brothers wouldn’t even realize existed.

Said brothers arrived together, followed shortly thereafter by their father. Still, the Van Yorne women waited. The moment everything changed came over the platform like a day heavy with dampness, just before the thunder and night storm. Quick glance looked to be about a dozen men, all dressed down in colors of dirt and clay and burlap; weighed down with leather in the way of chaps and belts, boots and holsters. Silly girl fantasies of famous gunslingers and corral showdowns washed over her like a physical manifestation. The other women in the station seemed likewise distracted.

The leader of this cowboy gang wore his sand tone hat and double-holstered gunbelt slung low. He walked like a man who knew how to lead; like a man who owned those around him as much as he owned himself, yet took better care of those others than he ever would himself. Even in their simple act of walking, the men seemed to look to their leader for example. As they neared closer, she could hear the jangle of their spurs along with the heavy fall of their boots. Then the lead man, with his sandy colored hat, looked up and squinted into the rising sunlight.

“Goodness, Momma, that’s Mr. Sawyer.”

The Lady Cassandra gave a cryptic smile usually only ever seen on the faces of the sphinx. “Yes dear, it appears that it is.”

Resting just before the steps of the platform, Sawyer looked up at them and—just like one of the heroes from one of her dime store novels—tipped his hat down to them. “Mrs. Van Yorne, Miss Van Yorne.”

“Mr. Sawyer,” they answered together. Cassandra kept on, on her own, “Lovely day, gentlemen. Thank you all for assisting us. I believe your accommodations have already been sorted out? Yes? Good. Shall we, then?”

Like they all held different parts in a dance, two groups broke off from Robert Sawyer and headed onto separate paths. Sawyer maintained with the lady Van Yornes.

Catherine felt like hissing at every opium-laced woman who took the time to stare at the figure Robert Sawyer cut as he made his way with them along the platform to their car. Instead, she commented, “You seem much happier in your change of clothing, Mr. Sawyer.”

“Excuse me,” Mrs. Van Yorne requested and removed herself to the car.

Robert didn’t feel confident addressing Catherine, all done up again—this time in various colors of green—but he couldn’t let the comment rest, “You mean I’m better suited to the cloth of my class?”

She laughed, bringing a white, doe skinned covered hand to her chin. “Not at all, Mr. Sawyer. I meant simply that you seemed so uncomfortable in the clothing you wore yesterday, it is nice to see you so contented in the ones you wear now.”

He couldn’t see anything to say to that, so he didn’t select to say anything at all.

Instead, he assisted Catherine onto the train car, and—following her in—assessed her gown without pondering the woman herself. The green of the dress proper was a sort of mid-green...a bit of forest green mixed in with enough yellow to lighten it without weakening the color completely. It covered her from the hem of her gown, gathered in degrees up, from skirt to bustle…up from undercorset to long-sleeved overlay. The only break of the color—apart from the elbow length gloves—spilled out from under her collar, in frothy, white lace that poured out like fresh cream. Her kitten-heeled boots matched her gloves.

She turned on him once they’d fully boarded the train, “Again, I seem to overstep myself in your presence, Sawyer. Please, if nothing else, realize I meant no harm.”

Robert removed his gun belt and slipped into his allotted bunk, boots on with all the rest, “Nothing taken, Miss Van Yorne.”

“Cate,” She offered, without thinking much of the result of her allowance.

*

Days on the train turned Robert soft. He forgot a little about who he was and allowed himself a certain level of relaxation with the Van Yorne family. They passed the time together as if assorted parts of the same body.

He found out how the eldest—and rarely mentioned—brother, John, had gone off with an Indian maid to the Dakotas and all but forgotten his family in the process. That William, the third in the line, practiced law in New York City; and Lawrence, the fourth, did the same back in England. Catherine, he came to find, was a bit coddled because of being the only girl, but not so much that she never had to endure an injustice at the hands of her brothers.

Like the rest of them, she had a quick sense of humor and the sort of righteous indignation against any and all prejudices that lay almost singularly with a certain type of upper-class mentality. Unlike the rest of them, she had a certain sort of melancholy about her she hid behind her sincere interest in her family’s many occupations. She talked horses and investments with her father, laws and tall-tales with her brother Richard, and women and property with the only sibling she could count herself as senior to. Often she’d go off with her mother, the two women sitting in one corner or another, working on needlepoint or knitting and talking quietly. The only direct contact she had with Robert centered on awkward and limited conversations. Every day she appeared in a different colored dress, while he stayed more or less in the same ensemble he always kept to when he traveled. That alone forced Robert to keep a bit of distance from the woman.

Well into their third week on the train, Robert sat cleaning his guns on his bunk.

Mrs. Van Yorne read a volume in some language other than English in a soft chair off to their main sleeping area, but besides that, he was alone. Then Catherine approached in a navy calico printed with heavy, open red roses. The sleeves ended just below her elbows, her feet clad only in soft skinned leather slippers, and her neck cut out in a shallow square. It was the most of her skin he’d ever seen, and something about the simpleness of the outfit made him warm to her. “Miss Van Yorne?”

“Cate,” she reminded him. “May I sit?” She didn’t wait for his answer, but took a seat on the bunk beside him. “I happened to notice you with your revolvers, and hoped I might observe your process. I don’t have to touch anything.”

“Have you not done a gun cleaning with your brothers?”

“They don’t like me to traipse that far into the world of men. Bad enough I jockey the horses and help in their breeding and training. My investing they allow for a bit more, money being everything, but none of the lot understands my interest in the mechanics of artillery.”

Robert smiled at the idea that any man could restrict this woman in something she felt determined to do. “Does that mean I’m going to catch hell for not shooing you away?”

She returned the grin, “I’ll swear that I blinded you with my feminine whiles.”

He pulled out the second of his matched pair of revolvers, picked up a piece of rag, and offered it to her. “You do just as I do, asking any questions if you’ve got ‘em.”
Catherine nodded and did exactly as he asked. Occasionally she inquired after a part or working mechanism of the gun, but she mostly just used her god-child hands to attend to her allotted revolver as least as well as he cared to the other. “How often do these guns need cleaning, Mr. Sawyer?”

“It’s much like with people. Some say everyday…some not more than a couple times a year. I usually see to ‘em every few weeks; less, if I’ve had reason to use ‘em.”
She handed him back his gun, looking at the residue of black grease upon her hands. “Thank you, Mr. Sawyer. Have a good night.” She took herself into the side car they used as a bathroom, and locked the door behind her.

Mrs. Van Yorne didn’t look up from her novel, but spoke to him regardless, “She has a bit of a fascination with the West, Mr. Sawyer. For as long as I can remember, in lieu of fairytales and stories of princesses, Catie asked to hear about Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane, Kit Carson, or Jessie James. I think she saw enough of ‘modern men’ at home…and during her year in England, to think that she might find herself happier with a man of the West.”

Neither of them said anything more on the subject.

*

Catherine woke up in the corner of Yank’s stall, not entirely sure how she’d gotten there. The Stallion, himself, was laid out on the straw, sleeping the true deep sleep he couldn’t get while standing. Slowly, she stood up, remembering that she’d gone for the stable cars after laying in her bunk for hours without sleep. Now, not even sure to what hour she awoke, Catherine realized that she put herself far out of propriety…wandering out in nothing but her nightgown and silk robe.

The noise alone wouldn’t have caused the feeling of immense danger that came upon her. The noise was nothing much more than a scrape of boots on wood. It was the unhinged laughter that doused her with fear. Keeping a watchful eye on Yank, she let out a scream loud enough to wake every horse in the box; leading them all to kick up and start their own ruckus.

She thought she saw a shadow approach, but Yank was up, rearing and snorting a warning at the head of his stall, blocking her view. Catherine let him guard the door, hiding herself in the corner and letting out another scream.

Seconds later, Robert Sawyer called out in the darkness, “Cate?”

“In Yank’s stall. Someone’s out there.”

“Saw him, but lost him. Some vagrant jumping trains, I suspect.” She heard him move towards Yankee’s stall, to which the horse expressed his objection. “Are you alright?”

Catherine came back into herself, easing around Yankee and calming the big stallion. “Just out of sorts.” She got a good look at Robert, only dressed in his low-slung pants, revolver in his hand. The long stretch of his naked trunk—even in the darkness of the box car—showed how hard and lean Sawyer was. It wasn’t until he reholstered his gun and shifted his hands to his hips, that she remembered not to stare. She leaned against the wooden half-door. “I’m not dressed respectably, Mr. Sawyer.”

He smiled, chuckling softly. “Nor am I, Miss Van Yorne. I promise not to take any liberties. Just want to see you back to your bunk.”

“Thank you…”

He took her hand and tucked it up under his naked arm, “Robert.”

“…Robert,” she repeated, her fingertips brushing the surprisingly soft skin on top of heavy muscle.

When the two returned to the Van Yorne’s main car, all were up and demanding of information. Robert laid out his part, and Catherine filled in the small space he didn’t know. Her father gave her a firm, dark look, to which she nodded slightly once.

Mr. Van Yorne tried checking his emotions, but the paler left on his only daughter’s face had his heart running on an uneven beat. When he finally crawled into bed next to his beautiful wife, he whispered to her his new decision. “Tomorrow, we bring in the decoy, and Catherine goes on the trail with Robert.”

Cassandra rolled over to face him. “That is quite a trek to San Francisco, Louis. Do you think she’s ready? That they’re ready?”

“I think it’s time they find out.”

She looked at her husband for a long while, thinking, but keeping her mind in silence. She wasn’t sure if he was awake when she chose to speak, but she had to say the words regardless. “I don’t doubt your convictions in this, but I hope you realize that if something goes wrong with it all, you’re the only one holding the blame.”

Van Yorne heard her, but made no reply. She wasn’t saying anything he hadn’t already spent half a year losing sleep over thinking about. He prayed he wasn’t wrong.

Random WTF?

2008-10-23T21:44:00.003-04:00

Um...o-Kaaaay.

I'm all about good music. I mean, I don't buy into the whole what's "cool" or "not cool," I just listen to what I like. Makes life super easy.

I guess you could say that I'm totally up for the whole "freedom of expression" deal. Still, could someone please explain to me wtf is up with the people wearing animal masks??

Pardon Me?

2008-10-20T20:13:00.006-04:00

Right, so lately I’ve kinda been all over the place. We all know this, I do believe I’ve made it perfectly clear. The funny thing about it, is how dang out of touch with myself all this has made me. Everything seems to be catching me off guard. Everything is kinda…remembered after the fact, I guess. Like that thing that happens when you don’t understand something someone has said, say, “Pardon?” (Or the less enjoyable, “Huh?”), and then realize what the person said.

This first happened when I was searching for background noise while I was doing my homework. (Don’t let the authorities fool you, kiddies, not everyone should study in pure silence, away from all distractions. Maybe it has something to do with my home life in high school…or the futility of expecting quiet to study in the dorms. Wow, this is a rather long aside…even for me. Lets soldier merrily along, shall we?) The Birdcage was on, so I turned it there. Pretty soon, I wasn’t doing so much of the work, as I was laughing my ass off at the movie. How is it that I never remember how much I love this movie, how funny it is, and then I see it on TV and can’t stop myself from giggling out loud? Someone please explain?

There’s another movie that I have a similar, but different issue with. I never think of listing it as one of my favorites. I always kinda put to the back of my mind, but then I hear or see something about it and I gush relentlessly. I am referring to, of course, The Man From Snowy River. The what from what-what, you ask? Well, this movie came out before I was born. However, in this movie horses and Australian accents abound (This could actually be the source of my attraction to Australian accents. It is 100% responsible for my attraction to duns/smoky buckskins.) and the story/acting/score ain’t bad either. It was followed up by a sequel, which was a poorer movie, but had more exciting/nifty scenes. Quantity, over quality, as it were.

By far my most favorite and awe-inspiring scene, is below. There is no way this stunt could be approved for a movie made today. For one, insurance would disallow the main actor to be used (as he was in this filming). For two, the AHA who SAG requires to watch out for animals during filming, as well as most other animal activists would cause a shitstorm over it. Personally, I can’t see a horse jumping blind the way this one does without wanting to, but I digress. Let’s watch the scene, shall we?

[set-up: an extremely valuable racehorse has been released into the wild and is running with a herd of wild brumbies . A reword has been offered for capture, but when the wild horses jump down the shear side of a mountain, the low-land riders give up for another day. Except for one…]

Supreme awesomeness, no?

In other news of me completely being confused, I give you this:

Ms.I: It's just funny, b/c she has a similar feeling for the cold that you do.

Lauren: I still have it -- it's worse. Like, I'm nauseous, but not like I’m going to get sick. And kind of have a headache. Blah -- I just had a ginger ale.

Ms.I: I just realized what happened here.

I said, "She has the same thing for the cold that you do." And you thought I was saying she had a cold. I meant the weather. Which made your response hella crazy.

Lauren: Hahah. Oops

Ms.I: I literally read it like, seven times, going...Lauren gets nauseous and has to drink ginger ale when it's cold outside?

Lauren: haha, that too :-p

Ms.I: Right, so, now that we're clear on all that. :p That was awesome, btw.

Lauren: yeah, confusion is the best

Ms.I: Well, only when it's funny. Or moderately fourth-grader. Like "sea-men"

I honestly don’t know if that will be funny to anyone not me, but I found it hilarious. The thing is Lauren and I rarely have miscommunications. We are abnormally synced up. We often feel the need to warn people not familiar with us together about how our powers combine and make us nearly incomprehensible to a layman. With the singular “twirling penguin” exception, I can’t really think of a time when this happened. Now I’m like, great, more of this to look forward to in the future.

Damn school. :p

Yeah, that about covers it for now. Loves ya!

Quote of the Moment:

Dad: I was thinking about getting you a prescription.

Ms.I: Oh, really? A prescription?

Dad: Yeah, why is that a problem?

Ms.I: Subscription, Dad? Because otherwise you just offered to get me drugs.

Dad: Sorry, subscription.

Ms.I: For a second there I had the feeling you were going to force some percocet on me.

Dad: Oh, shut up.
Soundtrack of the Moment: PCD, “Magic”

TV/Movie Quote: The Birdcage:

Armand: What are you giving him drugs for? What the hell are Pirin tablets?
Agador: It's aspirin with the "A" and the "S" scraped off.
Armand: My God, what a brilliant idea!
Agador: I know.

PC: Chapter 1

2008-10-14T02:42:00.007-04:00

Robert Sawyer didn’t much know why he stood at the large hotel serving salon, talking to the first man who’d ever seen fit to offer him a loan about said man’s only female child. Sawyer ‘bout figured he’d agree to the undertaking Captain Louis Van Yorne wished him to commandeer whether or not he understood the why of it. Not, as most would think, because of the original loan—long since paid off with the proper interest—but because of a much deeper debt.

Continue reading...

Van Yorne hadn’t much changed in the six or so years since Robert had seen him last. Still carried the kind of lean bulk that only those unaccustomed to fighting might mistake for thin, weak limbs. Van Yorne’s clothing, while being both a similar color and cut of his own, had the indefinable measure of class and expense Robert’s likely never would. The few changes that did mark Robert’s memory of the great man appeared in the graying temples of his sandy color hair, and the lines upon his generally appealing face—especially deep in depth next to his gunmetal grey eyes and heavily bearded lips.

“She will certainly seem to you to be…apart from what I’ve spoken. But she carries herself as needed, when needed, such as her mother and myself have always directed and allowed her to do so.”

Robert said nothing, as was his usual way of dealing with an issue he had no real opinion on. This only appeared to further please Van Yorne. At least, that was Robert’s assumption until he noticed Van Yorne’s attention had wavered completely from himself, to rest on a attractive chestnut haired matron gussied up in a cornflower silk as blue as her eyes.

When she reached Van Yorne’s arm, he turned to Robert and made introductions, “Sawyer, while I’ve spoken to you of her person, I don’t think you’ve ever had the grace herself bestowed upon you.” The lady blushed prettily at the compliment. “May I amend that now? This is Lady Cassandra née Rochester.”

“I am honored, m’ lady,” Robert offered with all honesty.

She spoke with an accent that marked her as English nobility, even if her appearance and manor had not. “I have heard many stories of you, Mr. Sawyer. My husband speaks well of you. And thank you, before I forget myself, for all your help with my second eldest son. He also has written me of you and your character. I find myself once again thanking you—this time in advance—for the assistance you are bequeathing upon me and mine.”

“Not a'tall.”

Van Yorne took over the conversation there, allowing Robert Sawyer to take his leave for a late afternoon nap—or lunch, or whichever his circumstances may require—to return just an hour or so hence, when his children would do also. As Robert’s tall figure cut a swash through the crowd of patrons, Van Yorne turned to his wife—the very love of his life—and asked her for her opinion. It wouldn’t likely change anything, as Van Yorne’s thoughts had already been organized into his humble opinion of humanly perfection, but the feminine perspective would serve much interest in confirming his own idea’s of the young man’s person.

Cassandra’s eyes stayed on the form of Robert Sawyer until she could see him no longer. “He’s a good-looking boy, Louis. Almost pretty, if he weren’t a bit rough. But I have never before seen such a level man. Even keeled, to a fault of passion. Are you certain of all of this, my love?”

“As certain as I am on any of my more extravagant wagers, Cassie.”
“Let’s hope this one fairs you as well.”

*

As was only proper, Catherine did not speak to the reporters alone. Her second-to-youngest brother, Richard, sat as chaperon, just away from the sitting area but close enough to hear all that transpired. Her youngest brother, Michael, waited, armed, with a smattering of the local law enforcement outside the room of the same establishment her parents currently attend in the salon.

“Is it true, Miss Van Yorne,” a nice woman from the Ladies Home Journal and Practical Housekeeper asked with a smile, “that you have been offered no less than four proposals since your debut?”

“Mrs. Stubbs,” Catherine made an effort not to roll her eyes, “as I find myself often reminding you, I did not debut, nor do I plan to.” She gave the lady a small wink, “And it was five, actually.”

“You’re expecting your colt Blue Blood to do as well as Yankee Fashion this spring?” This from the New York World.

“That or better, Mr. Tinker. Blue is much more temperate than his sire. Not so much of Boston’s meanness runs around in his blood. I’m hoping this will make him an easier animal to train. We shall have to see what destiny has in store for him.”

The New York Journal’s man took a different tangent. “Your family, Miss Van Yorne has plans to make a journey to San Francisco?”

Catherine proceeded with due caution, “My second-oldest brother, Albert, lives outside the city proper there with his wife. They have a very nice cattle and sliver spread and have since seen fit to add another Van Yorne to play upon it. As the first grandchild for my parents, all deemed circumstances well enough for a visit.”

“Certainly. And you intend to bring a good quantity of stock with you, to aid in his attempt to set-up California as a new racing capital?”

“California has started without the help of the Van Yorne’s, I’m afraid. I’m not sure that ‘a good quantity’ is at all fair, but a few of our proven producers will be presented to Albert upon our arrival; yes.”

Mr. Tinker, from the World jumped in, “You’ll be taking both Yankee Fashion and Blue Blood with you, then?”

“Mmm,” Catherine answered as mildly as possible, “they both are too valuable to be left behind. Blue, of course, is too young to be bred, but I refused to leave him behind while we spend an indeterminate amount of time in California.”

“Surely you wouldn’t wish to have Blue out of this season?”

“Don’t you worry, Mr. Tinker. Blue will be at Churchill Downs come next spring.”
The man from the Journal pressed, “Word also has it that your father is concerned for your safety on the trails, and has engaged the services of the Pickertons to protect you and serve as decoys while en route to California.”

“Why, Mr. Cortland, I was unaware that the Journal had decided to go the way of the gossip pages!” This time she made no effort to hide her rolling eyes—although this time the farce itself was in the act, “I’ll travel with my family as is only proper, though we are a large lot, so we may not all clamber along together. I hope you don’t expect me to divulge the day-to-day doings as I honestly do not have them myself.”

Richard gave the indication that the open forum had come to a close, and Catherine said her goodbyes to the various parties present. She hooked Richard on his right side, keeping his left—gun hand—free. They were joined by Michael and the rest as they exited the room, the men folding in around the three Van Yornes just as they’d been paid to do.

Such a thing probably wasn’t necessary for the short trip down into the hotel’s gallery salon, but the senior Van Yorne left nothing as chance when it came to his children; especially sparing no expense for his three youngest. The hired guns took a loose formation outside the salon, while the two brothers escorted their infamously popular sister to the head table inside.

Catherine recognized everyone as either belonging to or being a close approximation of her family; all except a young man standing stiffly to her father’s left side. This man was dressed well enough, but she had the distinct impression that he gained no comfort from his clothing. As if they more hung upon him than truly covered his person. She wondered what sort of thing he normally wore. Perhaps it was her preoccupation with his posture inside his clothing that distracted her from the man himself, but she quickly found herself there as well.

His hair reminded her of fresh syrup; brown, but lightly so, and kept well in the fashion of the higher class. A nicely trim mustache hung over his lips, with a small triangle resting beneath the full bottom one; Catherine had learned from her favorite cousin, Zelda, such a thing was the signature of a self-sure man and was called an imperial beard. His face was hard planes, with only the barest hint of a cleft at the very base of his chin, all together rather handsome, even despite the coldness in his dark green eyes.

This one protects himself behind walls of iron and stone, she mused to herself.

It wasn’t a truly fair assessment of the man, but she had no way of knowing the trails Robert Sawyer had seen. She couldn’t know that his detached gaze came from a complete and utter fear of embarrassing himself in front of his host—and hero, if it came to that. No matter what he’d earned, what he’d saved and sweated for, Robert still pictured himself as a dirt-poor immigrant with no more polish than a half-charred lump of coal. Standing up at a table full of white linen, silver, china, and crystal—under the scrutiny of the children of Van Yorne who didn’t know him from Adam—had Robert again desperately checking his fingernails for dirt.

As such, he didn’t once get any sort of impression of Van Yorne’s children. The boys all seemed to blend together with Al, the brother he knew in San Francisco, and the girl…well, one glance at her purple dress and blonde curls told him he ought to find other things to occupy his eyes with. It wasn’t until the entire ordeal was almost finished, that the option of avoidance was taken away from Robert.

“Your spread shares a border with Albert, right Sawyer?” Michael, the youngest—or so Robert thought—asked with a leading weight. “What’s the size of yours in comparison to his?”

Robert made sure to wipe his mouth twice, just for good measure. “Yes, Sir, we share a border, but not an equal portion of land. I have what I need, plus a bit. There’s quite a distance between Al’s main house and mine, but courthouse has us mapped out as neighbors.”

“Despite Mr. Sawyer’s modesty, his claim is not much less than forty acres different. In addition to that, Albert wrote me that he would still have half a house to finish, if not for the help of Mr. Sawyer,” Mrs. Van Yorne added pointedly. “That, if he weren’t so generous with his aid in the city proper, many a townsfolk would have fallen to extreme hardship.” While Robert furiously tried to beat back his blush, she added, “And I’ll not have you talking of matters as course as quantity of land or yearly earnings, Michael. Mr. Sawyer has earned his place, and more than that has come to this family further intending to provide assistance. When you have regained both your manors and your common sense, please grace us with the pleasure of your tongue. Until then, bite it.”

“Michael meant no harm, Momma,” the girl-child of Van Yorne spoke up. Robert expected her to move in defense of her brother, but was surprised by her acid turn. “He’s just been trying to find a new angle on courting one Mary Steinweiler, and figures the promise of a big range out in California might soften the blow of a seventh son’s inheritance.”

The son in question stuck his tongue out at his offending sibling, while the others in attendance attempted—in various forms of seriousness—to conceal their amusement. Before her mother had the chance to chastise her as well, the sister turned to Robert, waited until he met her unwavering baby blue eyes, and then offered her sincerest apology for any offense or discomfort she may have caused him in the process of familial banter.

Robert wished he’d kept his head down. Then maybe he wouldn’t have seen how pretty Van Yorne’s daughter was. Sure, in the brief hour he’d spent walking the thoroughfare, he’d heard a stitch of conversation or two about her and her looks. Seeing as her momma was sweet enough to look on—and her father and brother he knew to be both well-respected figures of masculinity—it made nothing but sense that the girl would be too.

But he hadn’t expected the almost heavy looking berry colored lips. The fresh, smooth skin too golden to be compared to cream, and her high cheeks of equally ripe color all hidden behind those big blue eyes. Her long blond hair had been curled, and few sections hung down long enough in front to start him thinking about what lay under them. Covered in purple and corseted in lilac and white, even seated as she was, Robert could see she had the sort of figure that sent calm headed men off in a frenzy like a new buck in his first season.

Dangerous, she was, there was not a question in Robert’s mind.

After so long without a response, the girl turned her attention away, freeing Robert from his captivity. “Daddy, may I be excused?”

“We’re not quite finished yet, Catherine.”

“Yes, Daddy, but I thought I’d go see to the horses one last time before our trip gets underway…” she returned her stupefying eyes back to Robert, “I thought Mr. Sawyer might enjoy seeing them. Get away from all this family silliness.”

Robert could tell she wanted him to immediately acquiesce to her suggestion, but he came a little back to himself with her assumption. The minx was used to getting her way. She knew she was more than fine to look at and, being the only girl in a litter of seven, likely often got her way based on her sex alone. He raised an eyebrow at her, as if to ask what, exactly, was in the deal for him.

She met his challenge with one of her own and while she addressed her father, she answered directly to Robert. “Albert had written of Mr. Sawyer’s interest in thoroughbred racehorses. I’d just thought he might like to see with his own eyes the only foal out of Fashion, sired by Boston.”

Robert felt his heart klurplunk to a dead stop in his chest. That Boston and Fashion, arguably two of the ages’ best racehorses, had ever come together to produce a foal was something close to legend. Even though he knew the story from Al, Robert couldn’t prevent the opportunity to see the horse himself in person. “I’d be much obliged, Van Yorne.”

The master and misses Van Yorne exchanged a brief nonverbal conversation, then gave their blessing to the endeavor. Robert almost fell over his chair in his haste to stand up before the girl did so herself. Luckily, he maintained his balance enough to offer her his arm. The thing certainly had its own sense of humor, as she was the one directing him and not vise versa, but they both pretended the case was otherwise, happy to be free from the conditions and constraints of the dinner table.

Upon entering the stable she took back her hand, them both missing the heat of the other without making a comment as to such. Robert watched her remove her white lace gloves and tuck them up into the stay of her lilac corset. He wondered if he’d ever seen hands so small, but strong…as if they were the hands of some god-child from Greek mythology.

She directed him to a few of the stalls, informing him of the animal’s lineage and future in San Francisco, while blowing in its noise and rubbing a hand or two along its neck. Her manor was both mater-of-fact and whimsical. It made him think that, while she meant to be as much the businessman as her father, she lacked the true detachment from her subject she’d need to pull off the coup.

He knew when they approached the stall of the infamous Yankee Fashion because she asked him to stay back a bit. Sliding open the door, she lead out the top earning American thoroughbred with nothing more than his halter and her bare hand. Robert had only seen Boston run once, and that had been as a very young child. But the rangy chestnut before him looked very much the same.

“Both his parents were chestnuts, but he takes more after his Sire, as you can see. Same color, same two white socks on the hind. A star on the forehead and one on the nose.” She rubbed the aforementioned snip affectionately. “I’m sure you’ve heard the story from Al, but I found him years ago, nearly beaten to death, outside our hotel in Connecticut. I’d seen paintings of Boston running against Fashion, and thought for sure that the bloody colt before me must belong to the same lineage. Daddy, probably thinking he was indulging me, offered the liveryman five dollars for him. The liveryman refused, saying his owners were at the local saloon, and would not favor well returning to one less horse to gamble away. No one ever explained to me why he was hurt in the first place, but I can assume.”

Robert watched the small, sturdy hands ease the stallion as she talked. Disconnected from the girl herself, he felt free to admire those hands. He could see the skill they knew, the training they’d experienced. He half imagined God used those same hands to calm a raging storm gone out of turn.

“I can’t say for certain why Daddy did it. I like to think it was for me, but he could have just thought it worth the risk; regardless…he walked over to that saloon and won me my barely breathing colt…right along with the papers that proved he was the only living cross between the two fastest thoroughbreds to ever walk this continent.” She smiled; not so much at him, but enough for Robert to see how much it gentled her, softened her. “It took me days to nurse him back to health. I wouldn’t let anyone else near him. I even slept in the cargo car with him on our journey home. He wasn’t any bigger than me, back then, so I suppose they didn’t think he could do any real harm.”

“He grew up to be one of New York’s favorites,” Robert couldn’t help but try to encourage her to continue.

“Yes. He ran just like his parents, although his temper is one to rival his father’s.” Quietly she turned the stallion back into his stall, whispering to him about the coming days, and what was in store for him…for them both. It was as though Robert had ceased to exist. She latched the door and turned back to her human companion, “Al has imported several mares from Europe. A couple he purchased from the Godolphin Stud in England. Among the lot he’s got two mares out of Spendthrift and a filly out of American Eclipse. Yank is one of the stallions he hopes to cross into them.”

Robert read her expression, “You disapprove.”

She shrugged, “He’s mean. I don’t think that is something a breeder should wish for in his barn.”
More from a want to understand, than a desire to argue, Robert pressed, “Al mentioned you had already produced a quality colt from him.”

“Yes. A colt bred with care…and caution. Years of finding the right match, not rushing to create produce.” She stopped after a series of empty stalls in front of one that held an oddly tall, blue-black splashed with ample white. This door she slid open with no warning; nor did the colt wear any sort of harness for her to hold onto. He waited patiently in his stall until she told him to ‘step up,’ which he did, walking out of his stall and into the walkway to stand alongside Robert.

“This is Blue Blood. He’s an almost three-year-old Yankee baby out of a French hunter mare we called Bonnie Blue. I was shocked to see him drop as he did. Never had a bald faced foal, let alone one with enough white to show pink on his nose, or stockings up to all four knees.”

“Never seen it in a Thoroughbred,” he agreed. “Can I touch him?”

This time, her smile caught him full on. Robert thought he smelt his toenails burning. “Yes, Mr. Sawyer, this one you may touch.”

Even as he cautiously reached out to graze the silky, dark coat of the colt—a part of him certain both the horse and the woman would disappear the second he made contact—Robert couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Please, miss, Robert is fine.”

“Mmm, why is it my father has asked you to serve as my personal bodyguard on our journey to San Francisco?” She kept her voice devoid of emotion for the benefit of her colt, but Robert recognized the warning.

“Your father gave me my first start in—”

She interrupted his excuse, “My father has given many people their first loans—and first starts, Mr. Sawyer. What I want to know is, what makes you so different then all the others? What makes my father treat you in a way I’ve never seen him treat anyone outside his family, ever? What makes you think you know him well enough to umbrella yourself under the safety he provides?”

Catherine almost started as Robert Sawyer’s eyes flashed molten fire in her direction. She amended her earlier thought—that his eyes were cold—along with her idea that his eyes were green. At this proximity, she could see no less than nine colors; the body of which was made up of shades of green, blue, and streaking flecks of gold. “I’ve known your father longer than you have, girl.”

“Ah,” Catherine smirked over closed teeth. “Away to me,” she commanded the colt.

A bit over-eager, Blue Blood almost stepped on Robert Sawyer’s feet in his haste to obey his lady’s command to return to his stall. If not for Sawyer’s speed, the Robert surely would have come back with at least a bruised toe to show for his troubles. Catherine slid Blue’s door shut, cooing reassurances to the colt that he had done nothing wrong.

She leaned a little against his door, hoping her father’s agent didn’t notice the weakness. She was tired of being the cautious one in her family. Couldn’t they all see that? Why now, after everything, would her father bring a new man into the fold? Despite what both she and her mother spouted out of propriety, neither had received a letter from Albert about the young man before her. It was simply the story her father had told her to align with before his arrival.

“Mr. Sawyer?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I have a proposition for you.”

This time with much less enthusiasm, “Yes, ma’am?”

“Do you have any idea why it is that my father has hired you—beyond, of course the obvious task of protecting me?” She saw hesitation in those strange eyes, and that alone made her soften her anger against him. “You are loyal to him, I can see that. But surely you are curious as well..? No? Hmmm. Alright, Mr. Sawyer, perhaps I can tempt you with this. I have three mares nearly ready to drop by the aid of my fine—if a bit mean—stallion; son of Boston out of Fashion. All three were chosen by me, were chosen after years of forethought, much like the dam of my Blue Blood was. I promise you, Sir, first choice of the three—for fair payment, of course—if you agree to my proposition.”

Starbursts of green and gold and blue narrowed in on her. “I’d first know the proposition.”

“We have, at best estimate, eight weeks ahead of us before we reach San Francisco.”

Robert nodded, “At the very best estimate, yes.”

“I propose that, before we arrive in San Francisco, I not only offer you first choice in what is sure to be horseracing’s next crop of champions, but a full and complete explanation as to why it is you’re along for the journey in the first place.”

“And in return?”

“In return, I ask only that you confess to me—and me alone—why it is you feel you owe my father such a debt.” At his hesitation, she pressed, “A debt that, by your own claim, was made years before my conception. Something that seems impossible, considering you can’t be much more than five years my senior.”

“You were born in?”

Strangely, she felt as though she’d been called upon by a stern teacher, “Seventy-two.”

“I agree to your terms, Miss Van Yorne.” With every efficiency, he shook her hand, then turned on his heal for the door.

She couldn’t keep herself from shouting after him, “And when were you born, Mr. Sawyer?”

He responded, but did not turn, “Sixty-four, Miss Van Yorne; sixty-four.”

Catherine fell asleep dreaming of horses and debts and green-eyed wild cats that made her want to leave the safety of her family for the ferocity they promised.

Robert couldn’t immediately seem to call sleep to him, but, upon doing so, found himself dreaming of the lady Godiva, riding naked, bareback upon her great stallion…her blond curls hiding all he longed to see.

Pure Chance?

2008-10-14T02:32:00.003-04:00

Right...so I've got into some sh*t lately...because I never post my "real" writings on here. I found the whole thing interesting...so...in the mind frame of interest and writings... here's something I've been sitting on for awhile. Perhaps a little more nice than naughty, but it is spawn of me trying to adjust to writing in third person...so don't kill me...yet. I'll try to do a chapter a week.

We shall see how that works.

Anywhoodle, you'll see the first after this installment...

Ms.I

Trailer #3

2008-10-09T20:24:00.002-04:00

For as long as it's up....
(Sooo excited! The apple? Classic!)

Twilight HD Exclusive Trailer

Yadda, yadda, ya

2008-10-07T00:00:00.008-04:00

Wow…right, so I don’t even know where to start with this one.

Since leaving work, my fish spawned, Ike hit Houston, my LV wallet went MIA—while containing basically every piece of information about my life, Lauren and I had lovely hour-long catch-up, I put a minor dent into my increasingly ridiculously large pile of scholastic reading material…among other things.

Seriously, I’m all sorts of crazy with the things and the stuff.

Speaking of (me being crazy, not the things and stuff), I somehow have not ever heard of this (possibly not real?) shotgun that is so beautiful, I simply must write it into my next spy story. I enjoy the name of MK3A1 over the more reliable Pancor Jackhammer, but I’ll take it either way. Seriously, that’s beautiful. Not that I use shotguns…it just seems like…if I did…that’s the one I’d like to use.

Right, moving on. I have the Twilight script. That’s right, you heard me. (Leave me a comment with your email if you want it.) I was totally loving it…then…I donno, it lost me sometime after the big reveal. Given, I don’t have the last cut of the script, what I do have (Blue Draft) is—I believe—close to the finale draft.

Speaking of the Twilight movie, someone please explain to me how I never once looked at Rob Pattinson and thought, “Hm, not bad.” Yet now, all of a sudden, I’m all, “Daaaaaamn boy!” How exactly does that work? Dare I say (as I truly do believe) that it’s a hair thing? I mean, tell me that these two pics give you the same feelings of hot, lust-worthy British boy?

Didn’t think so.

Wait…what’s that you say? I’m crazy? They look exactly the same? Oh, well, I tried.

In other news of the me, clearly, being not of a rational mind. I really, really love BBC’s Robin Hood series. I know, I know, I’ve commented on it before. Still, that was only after the first season. I have now watched all of season two as well. Not that I in any way approve of how the second season ended. Hmm, I suppose it’s not really a good sign that I think Gordon Kennedy’s commentary is funnier than most of what’s on TV these days.

Although…having said that…I’m rather interested in seeing where exactly they go with the Mentalist. Not that it’s funny. (Hmm, didn’t do so good with the segue there, did I?) So far, I’m…curious. Not super excited or…you know…devoted. Still, I’m curious. Ditto with Fringe. Perhaps more with Fringe than the Mentalist…except for the fact that I am unable to see Joshua Jackson without thinking, “Look! It’s Pacey!” And that’s even considering the whole gay stint on Cruel Intentions. I watch that and think, “Look! It’s Pacey! Being gay!”

Having rambled about all that…I am leaning towards liking both shows…with extreme hesitation.

In completely and utterly unrelated news, my champagne/gold/grande/star birthday is coming up this February. I’m honestly considering a trip to London…except…my friends aren’t in London. Cin has said she’d be interested in going…and that inandof itself might be kinda amazing. Still, there’s a big part of me that just wants to hook up with Lauren and drink me some champagne. Thoughts?

Quote of the Moment: "Great minds drink alike."
Soundtrack of the Moment: Janelle, “Amazing”

TV/Movie Quote: Robin Hood:

Marian[accusingly]: You were looking at me.

Robin: That's just the way my eyes were pointing!

Another Twilight Teehee

2008-10-06T15:38:00.002-04:00

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

2008-09-26T00:31:00.009-04:00

Dude(s) [and, clearly, here; Dudettes, as well]. Soooooo busy.

More soon. Promise.

Don't hate me; it's student time.

And...weirdly....I'm okay with that. Deal.

As a side note, (but not really), thanks so much for all the support and loveliness that has occurred in the last little while.

Also, quickly, saw Tropic Thunder. You know something is off with the world as a whole, when Matthew McConaughey plays the straightest--and I'm not talking sexual preference here--character in the entire movie. Still, I laughed. Enjoyable, if forgettable.

Same again with Burn After Reading. I've never been a huge Coen fan. Nor have I ever truly touted one of their movies. This one is funny, it's entertaining...but it's got the same sort of...seariously, that's all you had to say?...of all their other flicks. Still, Brad Pitt makes me happy regardless of the filck he's in.

Mmmm...Brad Pitt...

Right...enough for now...

Love!
Ms.I

Quote of the Moment: "You can't argue and win with a tween; it's impossible—against the laws of physics. They aren't rational beings."
Soundtrack of the Moment: Christina Aguilera, Keeps Getting Better

TV/Movie Quote: Burn After Reading:

CIA Superior: What did we learn?
CIA Officer: Uh...
CIA Superior: Not to do it again. [pause] I don't know what the fuck it is we *did*, but...so what did we learn from this?
CIA Officer: Um... I don't know.

[pause]
CIA Superior: I don't fuckin' know either.

It's Like, Wow

2008-09-11T11:59:00.004-04:00

Tomorrow is my last day at Nailor. Six years with one single company. I suppose I should be scared, but that's not really there. I'm...comfortable? Confidant? Calm?

I donno.

Words fail...

Quote of the Moment: "You are beautiful, and loved, so special...and just...I don't know how to say it? You're just so...honest, sincere, just...you. Ciao, bella.”

Soundtrack of the Moment: Lesley Roy, I'm Gone, I'm Going

TV/Movie Quote: Garden State: “This is my life, Dad, this is it. I spent 26 years waiting for something else to start, so, no, I don't think it's too much to take on, because it's everything there is. I see now it's all of it. You and I are gonna be OK, you know that, right? We may not be as happy as you always dreamed we would be, but for the first time let's just allow ourselves to be whatever it is we are and that will be better. OK? I think that will be better."

Not Straight...in a Totally Straight Way

2008-09-10T22:09:00.004-04:00

My straightener blew up yesterday. Right in my hand. It popped, a light flashed, and the instant smell of burnt plastic filled the air. It was seriously scary.

Unfortunately, that means that I’m without my general method of corralling my mop into some semblance of order. Ya’ll know that most of the time, if I’m not going out-out, then my hair is up in a knot on my head. Still, I’ll straighten my “bangs” (aka the shortest layers in the front of my head). Even when I let my hair chill out with the normal beach waves, I’ll straighten the front. It's kinda an OCD thing...if I straighten it, I know where it is.

It’s kinda funny, because in High School, I mostly just used hot rollers. Part of that was just Houston, and the weather that went along with it. I mean, even when I straightened my hair…unless my hair was super dirty…it wasn’t so much straight as it was straighter. With the exception of when Lauren would spend a good hour working on making me look half-Asian, It wasn’t until I got to the arid Las Vegas that I realized how easily I could straighten my hair.

I guess I’ve kinda forgotten what I have to do in order to control the shenanigans on top of my head, without the use of a hot iron. So, of course, today I woke up with something resembling the love child of a lion’s mane and Tina Turner’s hair during that whole long ‘n’ crazy phase. WTF am I supposed to do with that?!

Well, I fired up the curling iron and worked my way around…trying to organize the mess into something more Marilyn Monroe than the white-fro I was sporting. I turned out looking a bit like Shirley Temple. It doesn’t help that my hair doesn’t need any product to do this. I mean, It took most of the freaken day for the damn curls to fall enough to look right. Blah.

But I digress. (Wow, that was a lot about my hair. Sorry about that.)

In other unrelated news, I keep getting hit on by this super cute Persian waitress at this café I occasionally frequent. It’s flattering, in a way, to have a hottie make a real effort to flirt with me. I mean, I’m not completely against women…I just can’t see anything happening long term. At the end of the day…well, physically, I don’t see it working out. But I can appreciate a nice looking girl better than most.

A always used to say that I checked out chicks more than he did. He wasn’t completely incorrect. I think then it was more of a combination of always hanging out with guys…and getting there first. You know, the whole, make ‘em laugh before they start laughing at you thing? Just with girls.

So I have this dilemma because she’s a sweet girl with a lot of personality…and I wouldn’t mind another friend. I would, however, rather she not get the wrong idea. With a guy, I’d be straight up. Hey, not into you that way, let’s be friends, etc. He’d decide whether or not I was cool enough to hang out with minus the naked playtime. With a girl, it’s a lot harder. Girls are…different. We’re not wired the same as guys are. (Well, clearly there are exceptions, as I’ve been told many times that I’m such a guy.) I don’t know how to be like, “Sweetheart, I totally like you, but I’m just not that into you, THAT WAY.”

Any ideas? No? Hmm. We shall see if anything becomes of that…

Quote of the Moment: "Yes, Ellen is funny. I enjoy her show. Much like I enjoyed Rosie...but maybe I just have a thing for the lesbians.”

Soundtrack of the Moment: Lady Gaga, Just Dance

TV/Movie Quote: Chasing Amy: “Since you like chicks, right, do you just look at yourself naked in the mirror all the time?”

Promises, Promises

2008-09-10T17:18:00.002-04:00

Right, so I said I’d blog every day and I didn’t yesterday. Please allow me to explain.

At around 3pm yesterday, on the highway I drive everyday to and from work (for the next couple of days, anyways), a man was shot (inside a car) and either jumped out, or was pushed out of the moving vehicle. The driver immediately exited the highway, drove about five minutes away and set her car on fire.

The man was pronounced dead on the road. This is the eastbound side…my side, if I ever want to get home. They closed down the highway for an investigation, leaving me with no real obvious way home.

Meanwhile, on the westbound lane in the exact same location, a garbage truck flipped over and spilled onto the highway…closing down most of the westbound side of the highway.

Long story short I got home late enough to take a shower and go to bed.

Which is exactly what I did.

I’ll try to post again tonight.

Quote of the Moment: "Let me guess, the shooter was driving a Lexus? Yes, yes, but your mother drives a Lexus in the Woodlands. In cracktown, drug dealers drive Lexuses and shoot people.”
Soundtrack of the Moment: Rihanna, Disturbia
TV/Movie Quote: The House Bunny:
Natalie: Shelley knows how to meet guys, hence, we will learn how to meet guys.
Shelley: Yeah, hence!

2 Things for Blog 2

2008-09-08T21:26:00.006-04:00

Alright. Officially starting blog number two for the day. Ironically, there are two things I really would like to address. The first is really none of my business, but what would running commentary be if I didn’t speak my mind about things beyond myself every once in awhile? It wouldn’t be RunCom, that’s what. (Well, besides also being boring and narcissistic.) And secondly…well, recent stuff and things and my take on them. (So, back to being boring and narcissistic, I suppose.)

So you all know I have this *ahem* slight obsession with all things Twilight. Stephenie Meyer recently posted a rather saddening note on her site, regarding the future of one of her planned (and very anticipated) novels. If you want to read the whole account, you can here. Long story short, part of her rough draft was posted online, and mass distributed. As the drafts only went to trusted parties, she’s both discouraged and angry.

I get it.

I mean, I’m no Stephenie Meyer, clearly. No one’s giving me three-quarters of a million in advance for three novels. (Ah, dreams…) But I don’t think that matters. Having a few drafts of my own out there…even without the mass desire she has from her fans…I’d be horrified if I saw something I’d given to a friend come back in such a way. It’s almost like…I wrote this note to a friend of mine once…totally for his eyes only and what not. And later on, one of his brother’s random cronies sputtered off a couple lines of it—to make fun of me. I was horrified…and that was only a small note. I can’t imagine having five-hundred pages of my work—of my mind, sweat, and tears—laid out for all the world to see.

So for all of those out there that are doing nothing but bitch and complain, hush. Seriously, forget freedom of speech. Remember the immortal words of Thumper rabbits’ father, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” This woman has given us story after story, literally shared her dreams with us. And now that she’s discouraged about writing we’re going to start tossing around all sorts of rubbish…sounding no better than a couple of insolent two-year-olds who weren’t given a cookie after dinner? Not cool.

On to other issues, er…things…stuff? I donno, running commentary, I expect.

The New 90210 was…underwhelming. But...more than that...well, I guess I’m the one who’s going to have to say it, am I? None of the guys are hot. Like, zero. They’re all mediocre at best…and the storylines weren’t much better. I feel like it’s a bad thing that we’re only two hours in to the dang thing and I’m already bored. Although the music rocked my world. Seriously, splendid. More music, please. Just no more of the bad acting/actors/stories please, thanks.

BBCs Robin Hood is…oh, let us be honest, it’s not much better than the new 90210. (Except everyone is much cuter.) However, it’s intentionally campy and snarkily clever in its Britishness. Plus it’s Robin Hood. There’s horses and bows and arrows and swordfights. Dude, honestly, what’s better than that? (And guys, seriously, just spent the last hour playing the games on that site…and I may be going back to play some more now. So…moving on…)

MTV VMAs what to say that hasn’t been said already? Well, let me give you three thoughts:

1. Russell Brand rocks my world

2. Britney’s back!

3. Twilight starts totally got jipt!

That is all, go about your day. (While I go play more with Robin Hood. Teehee…I’m a dirty girl…)

Next time (or the next few times, anyways) on Running Commentary: Fishie update, School/writing/reading, and why do the lesbians love me so much?

Quote of the Moment: "I’m sorry, but it makes me squee like a fangirl.”

Soundtrack of the Moment: Near to You, A Fine Frenzy (Lauren, this FanVid is awesome.)

TV/Movie Quote: Speak: “It's time for a mental health day. So conjugate this: I cut class. You cut class. He/she/it cuts class.”

The List

2008-09-08T11:25:00.002-04:00

[Editors note: I promised quite a few blogs this week…don’t think I was kidding. You should see at least one a day on a variety of topics. They are in no particular order. Enjoy!]

So clearly I’ve been all over the place lately (in my head and in the actual world as well). I’ve been thinking all kinds of things about the future and my place in it. What have I done with my life? What do I want to do with my life? You get the idea.

Through a long serious of tormenting torture…hmm, can I even use those two words together? Oh, well...involving insistent repetition, and not-so-subtle hints, I managed to cross one of my “Do Before Death” things off my list. (That’s as far into it as I’m going to go, beyond saying it had to do with getting someone to read paranormal.) I never thought I’d cross that one off, though, and it got me thinking about the things that I have on that list. Some of them, certainly, appear to be impossible. “Go Everywhere,” “See Everything,” and “Speak Every Language” aren’t exactly a common sight on resumes. But, I’d still like to accomplish them. Dream big, right?

Still, some of the list is easier. Own an Arabian (horse) is more a matter of logistics and time than possibilities. Same again with my own home. Getting this degree thing done is another one I’ll likely finish—now that I’ve made the decision to take the issue seriously.

Ironically some of the things I thought would be the hardest, I’ve done already. “Be in a Movie” and “Write a Book” at the top of that head-scratcher. Seriously, sometimes I look back at my life and think, shit that was me, wasn’t it? Insane.

Then there are the things that seem like they might be possible, but only if I really get my act together. At the very top of that one, is the “Write Something Good Enough to be Taught in School”…which is just above “Make Enough Money to Hire Lauren as a PA.”

There are some unquantifiable stuff on there…you know, “Be Happy,” Be a Good Person,” “Don’t Go Crazy,” etc. But all of that is sort of…I donno, take it as it comes, right?

In the process of thinking about my list, I started to realize how lucky I am. How much more I have than so many…and how much really kinda crazy-cool shit I’ve managed to accomplish in my short quarter century. It makes me feel a little bit better about everything…as if I maybe haven’t wasted as much time as I once thought.

Or maybe, that’s not even the point. Maybe the point is that there is no such thing as wasted time…just the time between the moments, you know? Like those awful, soul crushing downs that we all feel in order to get some perspective on the indescribably perfect highs. Maybe there’s no “on course” or “off course” but simply just a series of different directions. Maybe it’s what you take away from the journey, not the travel itself that matters.

And maybe I’m just excited to be experiencing my last Monday morning as a Nailor Industries Employee. Who knows? Clearly not I. But damn, who’d knew I’d be having this much fun having absolutely no idea what the hell I’m stepping out into.

Quote of the Moment: "When I get a house that has more than 1 bedroom, you can come live with me (or visit for an extended period of time). That way, if you get on my nerves you can just go to your room. :-p”
Soundtrack of the Moment: This is for keeps, The Spill Canvas
TV/Movie Quote: Get Smart:
Larabee: I'll do it sir, I have no problem exposing myself.
Agent 99: Do you ever think before you open your mouth?
Larabee: No, I tend to just whip it out there.

Atsou Playlist

2008-09-06T19:00:00.005-04:00

Right...so it's been awhile. I have reasons, as always. I've got about a million things to talk about, so no worries, you'll get a full and complete blog (or twelve) by the end of the week.

In the mean time, this is the music that helped me to finally summarize As They Spy On Us. Some of the songs are used ironically, some are just completely in my head when I'm writing. None of them got into my brain as much as Finger Eleven's "Thousand Mile Wish." I think that song helped me through some really rough times...because I'd hear it...think of Matty and Lucas...and I'd find my way back.

In that vein, you'll see a couple bands/singers repeated...but none as much as Breaking Benjamin. The guys just seem to be dark and angsty enough to pull off whatever it is that is going on in my mind. Diary of Jane could be Lucas' theme song...if only Manhattan had a simple name like Jane. Also...Tyranny's yet unnamed story (Pretty Little Secrets? And I'll Tell You No Lies?) has mega BB influence (Lot's of the new Linkin Park, too).

Oh...right...and the whole idea of writing of spys in the first place? That came to me when I was about 16 years old and working at GAP...when the Supreme Beings of Lesure song "Never the Same" (Ha! This is my first time seeing that video. Ironic!) would play at least five times durring my shift. I had this whole other idea that morphed into Atsou...but the seed came from it, so I had to pop it in somewhere.

Yeah...I guess that's it for the Playlist commentary.

I would have linked to all of the songs individually, but there are 128 songs on this list. Google is your friend, (As is YouTube.), have at it. I've organized them into chapters...but, yeah, I can't imagine you care about any of this unless you've read it (and if you have and you care, I'll send you the Excel file with the scenes listed), so...go forth, with warnings of possible spolierage...

Prologue
	Belief	Gavin DeGraw
1
	Old School	Hedley
	Pretty Girl (The Way)	Sugarcult
	The Story	30 Seconds to Mars
	We Used to be Friends	The Dandy Warhols
	Unlike Me	Kate Havnevik
	Trying	Lifehouse
2
	Until the End	Breaking Benjamin
	Creeping in My Soul	Christine Lorentzen
	Secret	The Pierces
3
	Flawed Design	Stabilo
	Come Along	Titiyo
	Follow Me	Breaking Benjamin
4
	Beautiful	JoyDrop
	The Lost Art of Keeping a Secret	Queens of the Stoneage
	Here it Goes Again	Ok Go
	Take Me	Papa Roach
	Spy Hunter Theme	Saliva
5
	Wikked Lil' Grrrls	Esthero
	Bounce With Me	Kreesha Turner
	Feel It	Jakalope
6
	Sleep	Garbage
	Crush	Adelitas Ways
	The Chemicals Between Us	Bush
	Thinking Out Loud	Lesley Roy
	Memory	Sugarcult
	These Days	Chantal Kreviazuk
	We Are Alive	Paul Van Dyke
7
	Never the Same	Supreme Beings of Leisure
	Behind Blue Eyes	The Who
	Stripper	Soho Dolls
	Breath	Breaking Benjamin
8
	Hey You	Pink Floyd
	I Don't Care	Apocalyptica
	Rooftops	Lostprophets
	How We Operate	Gomez
	The Piano Sonata No. 14	Ludwig van Beethoven

9
	Born to Lead	Hoobastank
	Blow Me Away	Breaking Benjamin
	Next to Nothing	Breaking Benjamin
10
	Here Comes the Flood	Peter Gabriel
	Thnks fr th Mmrs	Fall Out Boy
	Thousand Mile Wish	Finger Eleven
	With Me	Sum 41
	Can't Take It	The All-American Rejects
	Sad But True	Metallica
	Pain	Three Days Grace
11
	Open Your Eyes	Bonnie McKee
	Right Here	Staind
	Hunter	Dido
	Innocence	Avril Lavigne
	Unknown Soldier	Breaking Benjamin
	If I Wanted To	Melissa Etheridge
	Duel of the Fates (Techno)	DJ Middle Ground
12
	Angel's Son	Sevendust
	Remind Me	Royksopp
	Sooner or Later	Breaking Benjamin
	I'm Not Okay	My Chemical Romance
13
	Halcyon + On + On	Orbital
	Age of Consent	Nicholas Hexum
	Given Up	Linkin Park
	Superhero Girl	Eve 6
	Save Your Scissors	City and Colour
14
	Everything	Lifehouse
	Phase	Breaking Benjamin
	Scars	Papa Roach
	This Could Be Anywhere in the World	Alexisonfire
15
	Long Night Dreaming	Crash Parallel
	Thrice	Firebreather
	Hello Goodbye	Live on Arrival
16
	Crushcrushcrush	Paramore
	Für Elise	Ludwig van Beethoven
	Closer	Lovers Electric
	The Good Left Undone	Rise Against
17
	Mad World	Gary Jules
	Cold (But I'm Still Here)	Evan's Blue
	Here We Are	Breaking Benjamin
	All Eyes on Me	Goo Goo Dolls
	Everybody's Fool	Evanescence
	Stand My Ground	Within Temptation
18
	9 Crimes	Damien Rice
	Let the Flames Begin	Paramore
	Devil in a Midnight Mass	Billy Talent
19
	Better Than Drugs	Skillet
	All or Nothing	Theory of a Deadman
	Flagpole Sitta	Harvey Danger
	Birthday	The Beatles
	I Guess You're Right	The Poises
20
	Sweet Sacrifice	Evenescence
	You Could Make a Killing	Aimee Mann
	So Far So Good	Thornley
	Topless	Breaking Benjamin
21
	Nothing Else Matters	Metallica
	Out of My Head	Mobile
	Peace of Me	Natasha Bedingfield
	Breathe Me	Sia
	Getting Away With Murder	Papa Roach
	Cold	Static-X
22
	Requiem	Mozart
	Dead Wrong	The Fray
23
	Breathing	Lifehouse
	Hysteria	Muse
	Find a New Way	Young Love
	Beautiful	Flickerstick
	Rockstar	Prima J
	Le Disko	Shiny Toy Guns
24
	Unsaid	The Fray
	Year Zero	30 Seconds to Mars
	Requiem for a Dream/Two Towers	Techno Remix
	Hear You Me	Jimmy Eat World
	Run	Snow Patrol
	The Spy	The Doors
	Up Against the Wall	Boys Like Girls
25
	You	Breaking Benjamin
	Black Roses Red	Alana Grace
	Ruled by Secrecy	Muse
	Do it or Die	Die Maniquine
26
	Taking Over Me	Evenescence
	If I Were A Rich Girl	Gwen Stefani
	Viva la Vida	Coldplay
	Belive	The Bravery
	Tyranny Normality	Papa Roach
	Your Guardian Angel	The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
27
	What Ever Happened	The Strokes
	Tonight and the Rest of My Life	Nina Gordon
	Drive My Soul	Lights
Epilogue
	Fear	Sarah McLachlan

Past, Paths, and Performance

2008-07-20T21:47:00.007-04:00

I have a lot of weird, random memories. Memories that are as clear to me as sitting here, right now, plucking away at my blog. Some of them are over twenty years old. Most of them make sense to me, in their retrospective timelines. There’s one, though, that I really, truly don’t understand.

I was still in Florida, so I had to be younger than nine…and I was at a birthday party of a girl I met while I was in first grade, so I had to be at least seven…beyond that, I’m not too sure what’s what.

The birthday party was at a roller skating rink. I didn’t skate then, so the whole party was kinda moot for me from the beginning. I don’t know if I’d recently realized it, or if it was just high on my mind because I was uncomfortable…but the whole, “I’m fat and not pretty,” thing was high on my mind.

Weirdly, this super attractive teen boy, asked me if I wanted help skating. He took me around the rink a bunch of times, holding my hands and smiling at me. I assume he worked there, that part of him getting paid was helping awkward kids like me, but really, I have no idea.

It’s just one of those things that has always stuck with me. Part of it, I’m sure, is that I really don’t get why this super cute guy bothered. He was (hopefully) far too old to be attracted to me…even if I’d been the type to attract. The other part of it is how special his small gesture was to me. I clearly remember looking up at him—my hands in his, zooming around the shellacked wood—and feeling like a beautiful, worthy person.

It’s funny…out of all of my memories…the ones where people have made such long-lasting impressions on my life…I have this random event swimming around up there. Makes you think about that whole, who do you really remember thing, hu?

With so much changing in my life, right now, I’ve been thinking a lot about what makes a person’s life meaningful. I’ve been thinking about…at the end of the day…what, if anything I want to be remembered for. So very many things spring to mind…different professions and different outlets of creativity…ways to leave a piece of myself on this planet when I’m gone. If my mother has her way, I’ll leave behind a daughter of my own…but I’m not sure that’s my path.

So what is my path? And what, exactly, am I waiting for to find it?

On to less existential things…I saw The Dark Knight yesterday. I was blown away. I’m mean, clearly, any movie with Christian Bale in it is something I’m going to enjoy. He’s just so damn good. I truly believe there is no justice in the world until he wins an Oscar.

Having said this…okay, look, I’m not jumping on the bandwagon here. I held all my reservations about Ledger's performance, until actually seeing it. I wondered if the circumstances surround him…the way it’s his last completed role…if that is what is fanning the fire. It’s not.

Well, it probably is. Much like the whole Rent/Jonathan Larson issue, the award talk and acclaim might be more prominent because of Ledger’s untimely demise, but I do think it would have gotten there eventually. I honestly didn’t recognize Ledger. Not just because of the makeup or the costuming, but because he truly, completely removes himself from his own existing nuances and rebuilds them to a completely new person. The way he speaks (and I’m talking about inflections and facial movements rather than accent here—although that was pretty impressive as well), the way he holds himself, the use of his hands…arms…whole upper torso while he delivered his lines...he just completely OWNED the Joker. Much like Bale took Batman from cartoon to flesh, Ledger took the Joker from Nicholson's comic book characticure to someone who hits every archaic warning button for fear. The story is sloppier than I would have hoped, but Two-Face’s make-up (CGI?) effects more than made up for it. I want more. And, if the applause at the first roll of credits was any indication, I wasn’t the only one who felt this way.

But don’t let me tell you what you want to see, follow your own path.

(Like what I just did there? Way to wrap it up, Ms.I, way to wrap it up.)

Quote of the Moment: "Our new building is very light and modern, and there are glass doors and panels everywhere, which will eventually get some frosting on them, so people don't run into them. However, that has yet to happen...and people are running into things left and right. I can't wait to see how bad it is after a few drinks!"

Soundtrack of the Moment: Metro Station, Shake it
TV/Movie Quote: The Dark Knight: “Some men aren't looking for anything logical. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn.”

I'm really, truely sorry

2008-07-17T21:51:00.001-04:00

Tee hee!

I’m with the Band – Drag Racing Edition

2008-07-17T11:43:00.003-04:00

Do you guys remember those days of yore…back when I was a little less wise and a little more in shape? Back when my evening/weekend update usually invoved words like “tour bus,” ‘backstage,” or even “sang into Steven Tyler’s microphone!”? Right, well, this past weekend was a bit like that…except there were no (actual) musicians and an overabundance of cars.

Drag cars. Very fast cars. (Although, according to the boys that know, doing a ¼ mile in eight seconds really isn’t that fast. Whatever, sure looked fast to me.) A lot of them were super pretty too(the cars, not the boys). Made me smile…thinking of the days when I would run around with Chris helping him with the mustang…or even racing around downtown. (As another quick aside, how weird is it that 4 of my closest friends/boyfriends have owned/do own yellow cars…and 3 of the 4 were mustangs?)

I’m getting ahead of myself…let me back up for a second.

So, Thursday night I pick up AGFN (Adam’s Girlfriend Nicole), and we do the road trip thing out to Cayuga. We’re going to this event, called Armdrop Live. Apparently the dude hosting it is a big deal in the drag racing world. He does a show called Pinks and another one called Pinks all out. I say apparently, because I never heard of the guy before…but several of my uncles have, and they clearly have way more of an idea about this nonsense than I ever will. The roadtrip was quite possibly the first one I’ve taken since I left the US…which is kinda hilarious in and of itself.

Anywhoddle, the ride itself was rather funny…mostly because AGFN and I don’t really know each other all that well, and we’re confided to this small space for a couple hours…alone. As always, when I drive with someone, I try to be a little more cautious than I would ever drive by myself. I mean…if I die…that’s fine, but if I kill someone else…yeah, notsomuch. Also AGFN kinda made some comments about me “not driving like [a crazy person]” awhile back. Needless to say, I was concerned about my speed. She, however, was…not. She might have been giving me shit for not going faster. I might have been confused and asked what was up. She calmly explained that it was fine, because we were in a hurry. Okay then.

I speed for as long as I can, but soon we’re on a one lane road and in line with a bunch of trailers and cars on hitches and the like. It was insanity, I tell you…AGFN, screaming at the other cars and me…profanity flying around…and suddenly we pass a sign indicating we’ve entered the greenbelt and AGFN—going all Hyde to her Jekyll—says in this wonderfully pleasant voice, “Oh, the greenbelt, how lovely…I have one of those by my house.” I couldn’t stop laughing. We finally pull up, and wait in line at the gates. AGFN and MFCB argue over the phone…then he promises to meet us at the gates, to show us where they set up camp. AGFN and I pull up to the gates, give over our tickets/money, and get back passes. These cute older ladies are like, “Are you girls spectators, or are you with the drivers?” AGFN and I reply in perfect unison, “We’re with the drivers.”

See, told you it was “I’m with the band, drag racing edition.” :p

Oddly enough, I’m with the band, original edition does come up, because everyone keeps talking about someone named Sully. Well, the only Sully I’ve ever known is the lead singer of Godsmack. Apparently someone here looks like him. I’m like, well, yeah, he’s short enough, but he’s way more…and everyone just kinda looks at me. So I have to explain how I was not really the groupie…but the groupie hang-a-long.

Incidentally, that’s kinda how this weekend felt too.

BILL isn’t there, because a friend of his’ car went kaput, and they’ve gone all the way back to TO to get the old transmission, to switch them out. MFCB and AGFN put up my tent (Thanks y’all, you saved my life!!) The Great Transmission switching gets started around 1:30am. As it gets rolling, I start to notice a few things. First of all, people are so effing noisy!! Secondly, there’s not much I can do to help in the changing out of a transmission. Finally, the boy-to-girl ratio here is vastly in my favor. I decide to help in the only way I know how…I flip out my hair, walk with a strut, and start calling out to the passersby in my very best southern accent. What?! It was fun, leave me alone. This causes two very funny reactions…the first, is my new nickname of “Southern Comfort.” HA! I like that almost as much as the Nor’easter. The second is when some dude asks me why I’m standing around talking to them and I answer honestly, “For distraction.” The dude looks at me like I just told him Santa Clause is dead and whimpers, “Really?” I giggled.

Finally we hit the hay…er…tent, in my case.

Day two starts with me waking up at six, calling in, then going back to sleep for an hour or so. I get up, starving, and try to rummage around in my cooler for some grub. BILL is actually sleeping in the trailer, so I’m trying to be super quiet, but he’s kinda up anyways. He sits up in bed, looks at me, then past me to the weather outside. He scowls at the cloudy sky and—in a rather gravelly and frightening voice—says, “Fuck! I wanna go drag racing!” I assure him that—while the weather is crappy now, it’s supposed to clear up by noon. I do not lie, and day one of racing gets going. AGFN and I decide on tube tops and drinks, then we all get our respective jobs for the day. I’m video/picture girl, which is fine with me, because that’s a job I can easily do. I also get to power on the car, which is fun for me as well. (A car with a power switch, guys, isn’t that nifty? [and now you see how much I don’t belong there]) AGFN and I do some wandering around on the 4x4 when we don’t have something to actually do…plus everyone hangs out at and around the trailer, where camp is…making food and drinking/eating/conversating. Later on, BILL gives me this devious look—one I’m beginning to think is a family thing, because his brother does it too—and asks, "You wanna go for a ride?" Riding with BILL on the 4x4 is infinitely different then riding with AGFN, and there are moments I’m terrified of flying off…in a really, really good way. We even got to go tearing around on the off-road course…then we sat around to watch the jet car flame away in the dark. Insanity, I tell you people, insanity. More partying ensues…I lose my phone, then find it…lots of running around in the dark, acting like an idiot. I couldn’t even tell you what time I got into my tent.

The next morning I wake up with my jeans hanging off one ankle, my sweatshirt on all the way up to one armpit, and the rest of my clothing strewn all around the tent. (It was a big tent.) I come to some very quick realizations. The first of which is that my bladder is probably what woke me up, and I’m going to have to empty it pronto, least it decide to explode into the rest of my body. As I slowly gain consciousness, I think, shit, where is my phone? Then the even scarier thought creeps in…where the fuck are my keys?! I find my phone near my bag…then lie down in exasperation as I cannot seem to locate my keys. This is going to be an issue…how am I going to get home?! I reach my arms up over my head, still tired and trying to calm myself out of a panic attack. My fingertips bump something hard and plastic, and—I swear to God—I heard the “Haleighluia” chorus in my head. I’m hung over, hot, hungry, and…well, have to go to the bathroom. Needless to say, I was not as much of the hyper dwarf on this day. Things go from bad to worse as the sky opens up and dumps me with buckets of water. Well, not just me, clearly. Unfortunately, my tent doesn’t make it. Neither does my stuff inside my tent. All my sweaters, hoodies? Yeah, soaked. I wanted to cry.

The event gets cancelled for the day, as wet tracks = scary accidents. The boys are bummed, so it turns into our own personal food/drinking event. I partake, but with much less enthusiasm than before. Two of the drivers start going back and forth, doing their own little skit show for the rest of us. It went on for hours. Sometimes it wasn’t even in English. (Felt like I was in the Godfather for a second there.) My abs were hurting, I was laughing so hard. At one point, I got noticed sitting with my hand around my neck, my elbow braced against my curled up legs. (This is something I do a lot…akin to wrapping your arms around yourself in a “self hug.” It tends to happen more when I’m uncomfortable…scary parts of moves, when I’m really disturbed by a story, whatever.) One of the funny drivers starts giving me shit, asking me what I’m hiding. I answered honestly, “Nothing, I just…have my hand around my neck.” He replies, “Goodness girl, why do you dislike yourself so much?” This is alarming in its accuracy.

I wake up to more rain…everyone is a little slower/grumpier this day…seems I picked the wrong day to be hung over. I do a lot of hanging out with myself…taking more videos/pics. The sun comes out, and I’m feeling the heat and my body’s desire for a shower and rest in my own bed. BILL chats with me for a bit, then apologizes to go back to check on the car. He asks me if I’m going to be okay alone, and I just smirk a little and remind him that I’m always okay. He looks as if it’s finally clicked in, that I’m really okay with whatever, fine to be chill, and just happy to be in and around good people. He nods absently, and says, “I know.”

Well, Yippee-ki-yay.

Soon after we pack up for the day, ready to head back home. I’m burnt. Badly. I start to realize how badly as I get closer to my place. I’m so gross, so in need of a shower…but I’m so shaky and tired I honestly have to debate with myself over whether I want to shower first, or fall into bed, get up later to shower, change my sheets, and wash my pillow. I chose the latter, mostly because I don’t have much of a choice. I wake up in so much pain, I can’t even move. Heatstroke. And I had to wait until I moved to Canada before I got it. Lived in the southern US for over 20 years, but no…I hit Ontario and nearly burst into flames. Fun.

All in all, though, I wouldn’t take any of it back. It was something different, and something fun. Good times with good people. And really, if that’s not worth a little pain, what is?

Quote of the Moment: "Seriously, nothing said this weekend is allowed to end up being the quote.”
Soundtrack of the Moment: Ubiquitous Synergy Seeker, Hollowpoint Sniper Hyperbole
TV/Movie Quote: The Godfather: “I don't like violence, Tom. I'm a businessman; blood is a big expense.”

Twilighting

2008-07-10T13:55:00.002-04:00

Right, so for the past week or so (maybe longer?) since my last post I’ve been juggling two vastly different but generally unentertaining topics. The first is family, work…and how the two unfortunately tend to collide around me. The second is…yeah, I’m kinda getting bad about all things Twilight.

Let me rephrase: My OCD has suddenly latched onto all things Twilight. This is bad, for any of you who don’t know how fixated I become on things. I’ve been on YouTube daily…actually checking out rag mags for movie info (not coming out until December, and already I feel like buying tickets)…I’ve re-read the three existing books twice each since Saturday. SATURDAY! These are not small books, people. This ain’t no Chronicles of Narnia, capiche? So…between the last book coming out midnight on August first, the movie hitting theatres December 12th, and…well, just my own insanity, you’re probably going to see a few things squeek through my filters onto RC here.

Just remember, if I didn’t let anything by, my head would blow up. And that would be sad for me.

So…here’s a Twilight themed “Everything I need to know about life I learned from…” (For those of you not in “the know,” Forks is the town where all the characters in the book live.)

Everything I Need to Know About Life…I Learned in Forks

You can resist the wine while still enjoying the bouquet…The future is not set in stone…Men are crabby when they’re hungry…Nothing beats an irritable grizzly bear…True love knows no bounds…Some people are just danger magnets…Even eternal enemies can work together to save something they love…Forget the fangs – real vampires sparkle…Soul mates exist, even if it takes 100 years to find them…Friendship is like the sun on a cloudy day…Snow means it’s too cold to rain…Family is about more than just blood…What’s worth doing is worth over-doing…Beds are for more than just sleeping…Losing your temper can be hair-raising…”Vegetarian” has many meanings…Even monsters can hold onto their humanity…There are exceptions to every rule…Always verify bad news before doing something stupid…Hearing voices in your head doesn’t necessarily mean you’re crazy…Love means being willing to sacrifice your happiness for another’s…True love lives forever…Cold hands = Warm heart…Not breathing is uncomfortable…Stupid lambs and masochistic lions make quite a pair…Romeo was an idiot…Twilight is the saddest time of day…Extreme sports should not be attempted alone…It’s hard to see ourselves clearly…Life is worth very little without someone to share it with…Love can make even the most miserable of places a paradise.

Quote of the Moment: "No; I've been too busy too be funny.”
Soundtrack of the Moment: The Veronicas, Untouched
TV/Movie Quote: Twilight:
Isabella Swan: Are you going to tell me how you stopped the van?
Edward Cullen: Yeah. Um...I had an adrenaline rush. It's very common. You can Google it.

Dubbing & Dumber

2008-07-01T08:55:00.002-04:00

I absolutely love MXC on Spike TV. I think, when I first moved here, the thing that cemented so clearly in my mind that I was going to be okay, was my Uncle and I sitting on the couch snickering while watching MXC. Apparently they’re doing US versions now…two different shows that seem to possibly be held in the exact same place. I would get the links for you, but I’m feeling lazy and, really if you care so much, you can just look it up yourselves. ;)

Ridiculously dubbed sports isn’t really what this blog is about, but it seemed like a nice, breezy way to start. Especially since what I really have to discuss is neither breezy nor nice. It’s just…I donno complicated? Sure, let's run with that.

Let’s begin at the beginning, shall we?

Baseball was cancelled last week, a fact which—I have to say—I was extremely alarmed to find my self disappointed in. I couldn’t possibly be missing the sport itself, but the camaraderie, right? Perhaps, but perhaps not.

Then we move on to exhibit B in my little rant…What is up with boys? Why do they seem to feel compelled to eff with my head?

Work is bad enough, without have to decide whether a rose is just a rose, or if it’s attached to some sort of feelings as well. Not to mention all these silly outpourings of feelings now that I’m officially leaving. I mean, it’s totally flattering to be compared to Sophia Bush, don’t get me wrong…but it’s still weird while at work…when I’m trying to explain to a customer why they can’t stick a fire-flap in a hole in their wall just because it’ll fit.

Then there’s outside of work. Honestly, it doesn’t seem so weird that a friend of a friend might express interest in me. I mean, the guy and I talked government, Glocks, and games last time we hung out; I could see how that might not be a normal thing for him. But, let’s look at the part of this equation that’s definitely not a normal thing for me…this conversation took place almost exactly a year ago, and I haven’t seen or spoken to him since. Why, pray tell, is he interested in me now? I could be pregnant and on welfare by now! (In theory, anyways.)

BILL and MFCB are great, but they've been super busy and I've seen next to nothing of them. :( More of the same from MGFM. It's like, the guys I do have in my life, that I don't want to throw through a wall...have waaaay to many better things to do than hang out with my lame ass.
Ironically, going to see Kung Fu Panda totally cured me of any residual feelings of conformity. There were children. They were screaming, and jumping over and around seats. Why don’t these children’s parents actually, oh, I donno—parent, for goodness sakes?! (Enjoyed the flick, btw.)

I also caught Wanted which was about as wonderful as I expected it to be. I still have issues with a “bent bullet,” as it is neither physically possible nor easily believable. (Well, not to me, at least, who has shot quite a few bullets in my time. Perhaps someone who hasn’t could give me their take?) I also have issues with how insanely perfect Jolie is…mostly because I’m fairly certain that 1) I like boys and 2) she’s getting prettier the older she gets—she’s like, aging backwards or something! (Which, oddly enough is the general plot for her SigOt(significant other)’s next movie.) Seeing her—well, all of them really—running around like hyperactive hamsters reminded me how I’m hoping to be back up to six miles by…yeah, tomorrow. I’m currently holding at four. Boo.

Also not helping the “let’s look better naked” cause, is my local Zellers. (Kinda like Canuck Target for you Southies.) They’ve decided to have a little kiosk, right by the front door, that is—get this—frying donuts. Do any of you have any idea how effing amazing that smells? And, while the issue of not eating fresh fried donuts really has nothing to do with boys, I still will blame them, because I don’t really care what anyone else has to say about me without my clothes on.

So there.

Right, well, I think that’s enough for now.

Quote of the Moment: "Oh, I have the really good phone plan. They call it the ‘drug dealer’ plan. Because nobody who’s on their cell that much isn’t a drug dealer. [pause] ‘Cept me, I guess.”

Soundtrack of the Moment: Dashboard Confessional, Stolen

TV/Movie Quote: Twilight:

Isabella Swan: How old are you?
Edward Cullen: Seventeen.
Isabella Swan: How long have you been seventeen?
Edward Cullen: ...awhile.

Twilight

2008-06-29T16:46:00.006-04:00

Do y'all remember when I started going ape-shit over the dramatically artistic covers for a series of books...then happened to like the books as well? Yeah, well, Stephenie Meyer is probably one of my more favorite story tellers currently writing. I know most of y'all don't go for the paranormal stuff like I do, but can we all just admit that, if nothing else, this movie looks like a lot of fun?

For the trailer...well, YouTube is teaming with them, but here's a nice video:

And, just to clarify the issue further...there's no fangs...no turning into bats...the paranormal aspect is rather...normal. Try it; who knows, you may like green eggs and ham.

Makin' Like Tiger Woods

2008-06-21T18:40:00.002-04:00

So Thursday was the annual Nailor golf tournament. As we all know, I'm in no way a golfer. Much like with the baseball, I have issues with the golf. I have no issues, however, with the drinking. :)

Last year, A came up for the tournament, and I golfed with him, Cin, and a customer Cin golfs with every year. We had a good time…mostly because it was really nice to see my friend, and I was excited to have him up in Canada. I don't really remember us falling over laughing…but we had a good time regardless. Or, rather, I had a good time regardless. Don't want to speak for others, after all. :p

This time around it was one of my cousins, BILL, and BILL’s bro (who, will hereafter be known as MFCB (My Favorite Canadian Boy)). All of them were awesome, no question…but I’ve just hung out with BILL a lot more…I know him better. I was really happy that I got the opportunity to hang with my cousin and MFCB as well. At the risk of sounding lame and super girly, it felt like I was hanging out with the old crew in High School.

Dirty jokes, clean jokes, dumbass moves, clever observations…we had it all. Oh…yeah, there was also some golfing. More so for the boys than me, though. The funniest moment definitely came when the ladies longest drive hole came up, and it was decided I would win. Yes, it was a group effort. I can’t—it seems—do anything without direction. (Must be all those years of theatre…)

Thursday was definitely one of the most fun times I’ve ever had working. (Or should I say “working”?) I don't think I could have laughed more. I literally feel like I reached maximum laughing capacity. There was so much of the laughing, that my throat is all sorts of messed up and my abs look fantastic.

There were, of course, not great aspects. For instance, if one more person asked me what I thought about my Dad’s GF, I was going to have to kill them. Who asks a child of divorce that? Honestly? Look, I know my mother is amazing. Trust me, I am in no way unclear on that issue. I practically spearheaded that issue. Still, my father is allowed to find happiness with someone else…just like she’s doing.

Also…why is it that men of a certain age seem to think it’s totally okay to kiss on the lips? It’s not. If you’re not sleeping with me, there is no kissing on the lips, capiche?

With that out of the way, even some of the difficult/weird/not fun stuff had a way of being really…well…kinda funny.

Like when a customer urgently suggested I do whatever possible to hook up with BILL (HA!), or—if not BILL—than MFCB, at least. I’m like, wow…I do believe you’re trying to pimp me out to two brothers. That’s both slightly bizarre and insanely hysterical.

I did mention there was alcohol involved, yes? Right, well, suffice it to say that I was drunk enough (when I got home) to accidentally put my phone in the freezer. Shut up. I was hungry and the server people took my food away from me before I had more than three bites. Stop laughing, all of you. Don’t make me bring up incidents where all of you have done crazy drunken things.

That’s right, that’s what I thought. Moving on…

I’ve got a bunch of people coming by the house tomorrow. Unfortunately, I don’t think any of the golf crew are going to be able to go, but that’s how it goes…and I’ll have fun regardless. Beyond that, I’ve got some more edits to deal with, so I think I’m going to go do that, rather than continuing to ramble on here.

Love ya’ll!

Quote of the Moment: "I'm sorry, my brain is kinda on pause right now."
Soundtrack of the Moment: Reliant K, Sadie Hawkins Dance
TV/Movie Quote: Happy Gilmore:You little son of a bitch ball! Why you don't you just go home? That's your HOME! Are you too good for your home? ANSWER ME! SUCK MY WHITE ASS, BALL!

Random HA!

2008-06-17T22:23:00.006-04:00

Take Me Out to the...Nope, Sorry, Time for Murder--and Fashion!

2008-06-17T15:56:00.003-04:00

[editors note: the last post was my 100th...which makes this 101! Yea for random internet garbage, eh? ;) ]

So as I’ve kinda mentioned a couple times, I’ve been playing baseball on this weekly league. I’m not technically on the team, but that hasn’t stopped me from playing. Unfortunately, there’s this law about women…how many you have to have and how many you have to play, etc, etc. There has to be at least one chick for every two guys who bat. Three girls have to play the field at one time. (Ha! Baseball’s fun for innuendos.) You get the idea.

Looks like I’m signing up for summer season…officially. I wish I could express my paranoia at this issue. Literally gives me mini panic attacks.

It wouldn’t be so bad if my mother lived here. She’s such a champ when it comes to all of this stuff. I mean…I played volley ball…soccer…did the dance and horseback ridding stuff. I’m totally fine with the running. It’s the hitting and throwing that makes me sad.

I did get some help after the game with my swing…and suddenly I’m actually hitting the ball…as opposed to using the bat to push it away from me. We’ll see how it all goes down. I also end up walking around with a baseball inside Louis, because everyone else has kinda packed up and left.

I have to interrupt this regularly scheduled program to vent. Unfortunately.

So, even though I had an amazing time after the game with some of my (new) favorite people, I can’t give you the details. Instead, I must tell you how much I would like to find a mean person and: 1) poke out his/her eyeballs with my bare fingers, 2) Remove his/her ears with my stapler remover, 3) Stick multiple thumbtacks under each fingernail, and finally 4) Stomp repeatedly on the mangled body until the squishing and crunching stops. (Much like I do with bubble wrap.)

Whew, okay, let’s move on to the WHY of all this…

So someone replicated my bankcard and stole my PIN…again. Whatever, I use my cards a lot…these things happen. Doesn’t mean I accept that the world has turned into a place where people would rather spend most of their time trying to steal what I’ve worked for than actually, you know, working.

Whatever the case, I got the standard issue recommendation from my bank: go to an active branch, tell them what’s what, get a new card, and create a new PIN. Fine, I do this…I’ve done it before. I get a nice, shinny new card. It makes me happy. (Just FYI, to my lovely Americans, we don’t put credit card logos on our debits here. They are separate and in no way equal.)

I leave the bank with my shinny new card, and head back to work…as I’m on my lunch break. On my way, I figure I’ll get gas for my car…as, if I don’t, I may not make it home. (And yes, I realize I should never leave it that empty, but I’ve been doing the same damn thing since I was fifteen years old. Deal with it, already.) So I do my swipe and PIN…and…nothing. I literally do not understand the message in front of me…insufficient funds? As if! I go inside, thinking that maybe the pump hates me. (You laugh, but sometimes they just don’t work on the outside. I had someone suggest that it could be the gross gas station guys on the inside, trying to get me to come in…but that seems a little excessive…even for gross gas station guys.)

It’s not the outside/inside issue…it’s just the damn account. So, no purchases for me. Obviously, this is not something I can accept. I call my bank’s info line in the hopes of getting this situation corrected.

The first woman I speak to (after going through the security checks) tells me that I have active holds on my accounts, put on my account by my bank branch. This seems kinda bizarre…considering I rarely even use my “official” branch. Regardless, she says she’ll transfer me to my branch, so they can help me out. Wonderful…

…except when forty minutes later, I’m still waiting. I call on my cell phone, while still waiting on the land phone…hoping one way or the other I’ll get this sorted out. I get a new person. Go through security again…explain situation again…and start getting told completely different information. There’s a lot of “maybes” and “possiblys” coming out of this guy. I’m not a fan of either of those things, so I request to speak with a supervisor.

I would like to clarify here that I am not yelling. I’m not happy, but there is no swearing or yelling or being nasty. I’m just trying to tell the dude he can’t help me, and to get someone who can. Hello, I’m in the Customer Service industry…I kinda know the drill…if I can’t help someone, I get them someone better. That’s just how it works.

He goes off on my rudeness, puts me on hold for five minutes…then hangs up on me. I am still on hold on the land line. My cell says the call took approximately 13 minutes, so I’ve been on hold now for almost an hour. I hang up, giving up any hope on the land line magically going through, call back, and immediate ask to speak to a supervisor.

The poor new guy is like, “Um…are you sure I can’t help you?” To which I insist that I need to speak to a supervisor, and don’t want to go through the whole spiel with him again, just to eventually get to the person I actually need to talk to.

The supervisor gets on in Super Customer Service mode. I am well aware of this mode, I use it often. Not as much as I did when I worked at the psychologist’s office…nor as much as I did at the Pizza place when I ran phones, but still, I use it enough to be familiar. To those of you who don’t, this is the same sort of tone and vocabulary used by desperate mothers on sleepy toddlers teetering dangerously close to a major tantrum…or by negotiators on dangerously teetering jumpers. It’s very kind, tries to make the person you’re speaking to feel very important, and extremely sympathetic to the horrors the person has endured before getting to this point.

Even though I recognize both the mode, and the tactic behind it, I almost burst into tears at the assistance. (Thanks period. Way to make me feel like a little girl.) I still have to repeat all the security measures, but this time the supervisor immediately takes off my holds, allowing me to actually use my own money (Concept!)

I’ve said it once and—surely—will have to say it again, but I wish people would just do their jobs. Is that really so much to ask? Is it, honestly?

On a completely unrelated note, it’s been awhile since I professed my love of the Fug. I mean, I have the link right there on the left-hand side, 24 hours a day, all day, every day (Hmm…is it redundant to say 24 hours a day…then say all day? Oh well.), obviously I think the site worthy of perusal. Still, every once in awhile I like to give credit where credit is due...for no particular reason whatsoever, regardless of a longstanding relationship. You know, like, with a guy…when you’ve been dating for multiple months (or years) and every once in awhile you open the door in nothing but fantastic heels, pearls, and chocolate sauce.

Take this gem: “It is a boring, ill-fitting, wrinkled boob-ruiner. With a bad hem. Oh yes, I said it. I think I'm a little mad at it, frankly. I kind of want to take it out back and smack it silly, or stick a dunce cap on it and make it sit in the corner and think about its sins. Which would take a long time. We wouldn't see it again for three years. Bliss!”

See? Totally worth the few extra miles on the treadmill and chocolate sauce on my body rather than in it…

But I digress.

And you know what…making ya’ll think about me naked and slathered in chocolate is really not nice, so I’ll go ahead and end this one now.

Quote of the Moment: “My balls feel like Rickard’s Red…It’s still dripping on them.”
Soundtrack of the Moment: Hoobastank, Born to Lead
TV/Movie Quote: Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery:The details of my life are quite inconsequential...very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking— highly suggest you try it.

My Favorite Gay

2008-06-16T13:17:00.002-04:00

In the past little while, MGFM and I haven’t really done so much of the hanging out. Part of the issue was his Ex…part of the issue was mine…and another issue all together was the resentment felt by both of us for being usurped by…well, dumb boys.

After our respective breakups, MGFM and I started getting back in the habit of chatting. He updated his boy dossier, I gave him the info on my newest interest. We seemed to be moving back into that realm of actually, you know, being friends.

Then again…we still hadn’t seen each other. He’s busy, I’m busy…and sometimes, as much as you might really want to keep up with a friendship, life just has other plans for you.

Thursday night, that all changed. He swung by for a bit, just to say hi and for us to actually see one another. He seems happier, if a little unorganized, at the moment. Of course, with everything I’ve got going on right now, I’m not really one to talk.

Saturday evening was more of the same. After some chit-chatting, and an update on his random celebrity encounter, we got to work…washing cars. That’s right, at around eight at night, MGFM and I washed our respective cars in the driveway. It was hilarious. Do you have any idea how man innuendos come up during a car wash? With all the “wet,” “hose,” and “dirty” talk, it felt like every five seconds one or the other of us was saying, “That’s what he/she said!”

We also had a little RockStar party where we drove around with the windows down blasting “When I Grow Up” while throwing money around and drinking Cristal. Yeah, okay, that’s a lie. There was money, but it was not being thrown anywhere outside of a wallet or two. And there was none of the drinking, clearly.

He’s turning 21 shortly, so we’ve got a red-carpet event we’re trying to plan…which should be hilarious no matter how you slice it.

He even told me I should invite BILL… :D

Sometimes people surprise you…in a really good way, you know?

Quote of the Moment: “Well, you know, I have a really big head…so I constantly have to buy new pillows.”
Soundtrack of the Moment: illScarlet, OneA
TV/Movie Quote: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: [watching a "Tortoise and the Hare" cartoon on TV] You believe this guy? Come on, Ninja kick the damn rabbit! Do something!

I Want This Movie

2008-06-13T12:24:00.004-04:00

Look, everyone knows that the most amazing/awesome movie this summer is/will be Dark Knight. Christian Bale is a demigod, and there is really no justice in this world until he wins an Oscar. It will also be Keith Ledger’s last officially completed movie. And…if the trailers are any indication, Ledger is dangerously and creepily ingenious. There is nothing about this movie that turns me off. I’m so excited about it, that I randomly wonder how long it’s going to take for the TV promos to start. Lame, I realize, but it’s me.

Now, having admitted to that lameness…lemme give you a dose of another one…

I’m really, really jonesing to see this:

Really, Jolie, Freeman, and McAvoy are all fabulous. I love them all and—with the exception of Freeman—would gladly have hot, monkey sex with. Throw in violence, major gunplay, and lovely car stunts, and I want it so bad I’m almost horny for this one.

I did admit the lameness…just so we’re clear.

Quote of the Moment: “I thought I had you, but…yeah…I just…ran out of bed.”
Soundtrack of the Moment: Katy Perry, Use Your Love
TV/Movie Quote: Wanted: “…the sheep, or the wolf? The choice is yours.”

OverHeard, Over Labeled, and Overwhelmed

2008-06-12T15:11:00.003-04:00

I’ve been reading a lot of OverHeard lately. It’s funny, snarkastic, and, really, I think I send them submissions at least once every couple of months. (Hello, my boss screamed across the entire office, “What’s the date today?” …on her BIRTHDAY. Dude, that’s funny!). They classify each post by “keywords.” (I, incidentally, do not. If someone wants to search in my blog, they can just use the damn search bar up there. Heck, I do.) One of the options involves whenever there’s a kid saying something funny. The classification? “Should have used a condom.”

Oh, dear lord.

While watching Cloverfield again (and damn, do I ever still love that flick), I got to thinking about classifications and labels and all the rest. I mean, we all do it, whether or not we mean to. Forever I had the email “the dancer chick” just because that’s what a lot of people would call me. High school, no matter what anyone says, is not the end of this stuff. I think it just gets more complicated…or, at the very least, more neurotic. (“Oh, that’s the half-Jewish, half-Persian/Italian guy who handles marketing in the southern US states that don’t automatically vote republican.”)

I’m even re-reading How to be a Canadian, since, you know, I am. And, really, having lived so many years…well, not here, I’m a little foggy on the details. Btw, to anyone who’s bored and would like a comical non-fiction (well, mostly) to pass some time away, have at this book. It’s hilarious. Probably will be more so if you actually know a Canadian or…you know…are one yourself.

I don’t really care about most of this crap, because I am who I am and—trust me on this one—I’m waaaaaay more mean about the things I call myself then anyone else could ever be. Unfortunately, that’s not good enough for most. Or maybe not good enough…but easy enough.

Lemme give you a “for instance.” When I start to spend time with a boy, my grandparents will ask if he’s my boyfriend. In my head, I’ll respond with anything from an “I suppose,” to an “Ew, not even if he paid me.” Usually it’s more of a “meh,” but since it’s hard for them to understand why I would have a guy at my place…sometimes for several days…without an actual—god forbid it—commitment. (Ha! Totally just shuddered. See, Lauren, I’m not TOTALLY cured!)

So, even though in my head I might just like a guy hanging around because he’s hot…or because he’s better company than my OCD…I say, “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend.” Come to think of it, I’ve actually done that to guys as well. “Suuure, you can call me your girlfriend, if that’ll make everything easier for you. It’s whatever. [beat] I’m just not going to call you boyfriend, okie?”

How convenient that, now when I get asked, my head says “I wish” and my mouth replies with either “just friends,” or an “I’m working on it.” So. Not. Fun. For. Ms.I.

:(

In other news, I’m sort of all over the place with my life and my plans and this, that, and the other. I blame my parents, and god, but not in that order. Seriously, why can’t I just be decent at one thing? Just have an interest in one thing? Why for with the million and five options? (That’s right; you heard me, million and five. Just go with it, already.)

I’ve been asked to play baseball with the team again this summer…which I’m really not interested in doing beyond seeing the people. Plus I’d have to pay…and the whole paying to see friends seems a little excessive for me. Hold, let me rephrase: the whole paying to see friends that I could simply drive over to see in less than an hour seems excessive for me. I pay to see friends all the time, which is part of the reasons air carriers love me. And, come to think…I’ve never been asked to play baseball on a plane. Those bastards!

MGFM and I looked like we might be making a nice reconciliation there at one point…but besides storing some of his shit, it seems to be a rather stagnant situation. It sucks, because MGFM is nothing if not an injection of youthful exuberance and fun in my life. There again, I suppose I have enough to deal with at the moment without being Mom/Big Sis. Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.

I’m up in the air with school, mostly because of locations…the one I’ve been attending is closer to work…the other is waaaaaaay close to home. With gas now almost $5.36 a gallon here, the difference is considerable. Not going to lie, the idea of hanging out at the same school with BILL’s Bro and some of the guys I went to the track with a few weekends ago appeals to me. The biggest dilemma with this, is that University is not the one I’m currently enrolled in. And, even though I went through the whole application process last year…and was easily accepted, I have to reapply, with transcripts and everything. (Yea for more money down the drain!) Oh yeah…I have to do all this by Monday. Forgive me, but FUCKERS!

It would be nice if, just once, this stuff happened easily. Everything just falling into place without worries or whatever…I realize this isn’t realistic, but right now I’m dealing with: 1) trying to get my body/home in order, 2) completely redoing my career/finances, 3) finishing my degree, 4) publishing my book, 5) renewing my passport, and 6) trying to get at least 7 hours of sleep a night. Oh, also I like, like a boy. Badly.

Seriously, somebody throw me a bone, please…

(Teehee…bone!)

;)

Quote of the Moment: “I love how well I keep track of my own vagina.”
Soundtrack of the Moment: PussyCat Dolls, When I Grow Up
TV/Movie Quote: Road Trip: “What else am I supposed to do, stay here and learn?”

Balance

2008-06-09T13:19:00.002-04:00

I’m a Catholic…at least, that’s how I classify myself whenever I have to fill out a census. I follow the basic teachings, but I tend to kinda ignore the ones I think are unfair or contradictory. I believe in the whole “Living and acting in the ways of Christ” thing, as opposed to the whole—you know, throwing bibles and spewing hellfire thing. I have very good friends who are atheists. They are some of the most amazing people I know; kind, and often good to a fault.

I should probably cut in here and say that, really, this blog isn’t about religion. I’m just trying to set the background for what I really want to say. With that in mind, I should probably just come out and say it, hu?

Right, well, despite my religious classification, there are a few things I borrow from other religions. Karma, is by far one of my favorite concepts. It’s the idea of balance, of their being a ying to every yang, of separate but equal… I like to think that for every bad there is good to follow…for every hardship, we are graced with ease. It makes the bad times a little bit softer, just to remember that without those really bad times as a foil, we’d never have a clear picture of how wonderful the really good times are.

Take this past weekend...

I invited a bunch of people over for a little social gathering at my place. The whole point of the thing was really just an excuse to hang out with BILL, but I wanted to have some people by too. Show off the place after the spring cleaning and what not. I invited a couple of co-workers, but two of them had baby issues (one of them actually gave birth to one…the other was dealing with an illness), and the other lives on the other side of the world from me and decided she didn’t want to do the drive alone. It ended up being me, BILL, the Cuz and her boy.

Of course, the more I drink, the less I’m concerned about my actions around BILL, which is turning me into a major girl. All huggy and smoochy and ridiculous. I must learn to watch my asinine behavior around him. Or…maybe not, if Juno’s dad has the right idea. [Find a person who loves you for exactly who you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, or what have you. The right person will still think the sun shines out your ass. That’s the kind of person that’s worth sticking with.]

*sigh*

Anywoddle, getting back to the karma, the ‘Cuz and the boy sort of get into this weird little freakout. No, let me rephrase. The ‘Cuz’s boy kinda gets into this weird little freakout. He’s making a big deal about wanting to leave, and how the ‘Cuz is making him stay…but then also how he doesn’t want to leave. Drama on stage is one thing, but I’m notsomuch of the fan of it going on in my living room. (Unless of course we’re doing an all-drunk rendition of, say, Cloverfield)

BILL speaks to the ‘Cuz’s boy, and I try to work things out with the ‘Cuz. Eventually, they end up leaving and I think everything is okay. Again, nosomuch. After spending a really nice, chill day with BILL, I get the call from the ‘Cuz. Apparently the night ended with (literal) fighting, and jail time. She asks if I’ll be willing to testify to the state of the minds before they left. I go to bed wishing I had the foresight to see all of that coming. Almost pissed off at myself that I didn’t.

Because I kinda feel like I would have noticed…had I not been so distracted by my own happiness.

And here we go, back to the whole me trying to sabotage any and all chances of happiness for myself. I’m screwed regardless, really, because I’m to the point now where I’ll take BILL however I can get him…and if this keeps going like this, the guy’s going to be able to break my heart.

Thanks Karma.

Quote of the Moment:
A: So, what’s up, Kid?
Ms.I: I’m having this major dilemma.
A: [distracted] Oh?
Ms.I: I like this boy.
A: Congrats, Kid…but that’s usually a good thing.
Ms.I: No. I like this guy. Like, how a normal person would.
A: Oh! Well, my God! How did this happen?!
Ms.I: If I knew, I would have stopped it, obviously. [hesitantly] And you know him.
A: It’s not…?
Ms.I: Ew! No. Remember, when you were up here…?
A: [laughing hysterically] I LOVE it when I’m right. I should rule the world.
Ms.I: Right, well, good luck with that. Um…by the way, are you okay? You seem kinda…I donno, punchy?
A: I’ve gotten to the point were things are so bad I either have to laugh or cut something.

Soundtrack of the Moment: Katy Perry, I Kissed a Girl
TV/Movie Quote: Ever After: “I feel as if my skin is the only thing keeping me from going everywhere at once.”

Indiana Jones and the Blog of the Watching

2008-06-06T14:26:00.002-04:00

There are very few people who don’t know that I am sort of a fangirl of all things Lucas. (Well, except for Howard the Duck, wtf was that?!) I mean…there’s something to be said about the old-fashioned serial style Lucas loves so much. His mishmash of different mythologies/faiths are at sometimes obvious, but rarely boring. People like archetypal characters, we like the recognition…the understanding that good will conquer evil, somehow.

Plus, just as a side-note, who wouldn’t want to be in the circle of college/intern buddies that is Lucas, Spielberg, Coppola, and Scorsese? I would, and I’m not even old, male, or a director. But I digress.

I waited longer than my norm to see Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, mostly because of all the personal stuff I’ve had going on lately. I also was kinda disappointed about the reviews. I mean…I donno, I don’t really know how to explain it, I was just really hoping for a few “Dude, it was awesome!”s. You all know that reviews don’t determine what I go and see (Hello, monster movies!), but they sometimes do determine how fast I see them.

First of all, let me just get the important stuff out of the way. I loved it. It’s Indiana Jones, what more could a girl want? There was the archeology, the bullwhipping, the screamy-but-able girl, and lots of dirt and dead bodies. Also, Cate Blanchett. :D Ooo, and monkeys!

Look, don’t get me wrong, I realize that it’s super kitsch and self-important. All I’m saying is, all the Indiana Jones movies were. If you look at them subjectively…with the time periods and the subject matter and what-not…they all are really more silly than spectacular. This one is no different. And what makes them all resonate so well with an audience, is their ability to let us believe that there really is a difference between good and evil. That, somewhere, at some time, there are men and women who are essentially good, despite their faults. Oh, and we also love the idea that smart people—really smart people—can be super athletic and hott too. :p

Crystal Skull had some “Oh, come on!” moments, to be sure…but nothing was as over-the-top as Temple of Doom. I could have done without Shia LaBeouf completely, although I liked him more here than I have in the past. I just don’t think he’s attractive, nor do I think he’s the best choice to play a major character in an Indiana Jones movie. There’s something very “modern” about him…something very “now” that doesn’t translate overly well to the 50’s setting of Crystal Skull. But there’s always Cate to balance that out.

Oh, Cate…how I love thee…let me count the ways…

The truly amazing thing is how I managed to enjoy the movie, even with the idiot that was sitting behind me. Now, we’ve all been in a theatre where people weren’t following the five simple rules (1. Don’t talk louder than needed for a one-seat radius. 2. Don’t throw food on people. 3. Turn off your cell phone. 4. Don’t kick the chair in front of you. 5. In a crowded theatre, be conscientious of armrest space.). Sometimes it’s the Rocky Horror Picture show, so no one cares. Sometimes someone is having a heart attack and emergency people have to burst in and take him to the hospital. Sometimes, a school of mentally handicapped children go with their caretakers for a nice day away from the norm. Things like this happen. I’d be lying if I said they didn’t bother me—insomcuch as they take my attention away from the movie—but I understand. I get it that some things are horrible and unforeseeable and beyond anyone else’s control.

This guy, however, was just a jerk.

He started by kicking my seat during the previews. The first time, I allow for seat adjusting. I mean, I’ve accidentally had my foot slip on recently spilt coke and had a heel go flying into the seat in front of me. I’ve been grossed out by the not-so-recently spilt coke sticking to the bottom of my shoe (combined with popcorn, candy, and random paper) and shaken it around until the stuff flies off—and I bump a chair or two. Now, two times is excessive, but I take a breath, put on my big girl hat, and try not to get too flustered. Three times is unacceptable. I’m sorry, but now you’re just trying to piss me off. The third time will get me turning around and giving you the mean-old-lady face, while asking you if you have a serious issue with the back of my chair, or if you just forgot to take your Ritalin today. He stopped, so I thought all would go well from there forth.

Notsomuch.

About…oh, let’s say ¾ of the way through the movie, he gets a call, or a text. I’m kinda vague on the details. All I know, is suddenly the film had a slightly hip-hop sounding underscore. I literally was thinking, “Well, this is certainly an interesting choice.” I don’t think I would have even clued completely into what was happening…until the ringtone repeated-seven times. I kid you not people—I counted. Some people complained, and it stopped…eventually.

Shortly thereafter the music came on again, but this time different. I thought that perhaps this was indicating a voicemail. Oh no, my friends; no no. Sadly, this was indicating that the device was nestled uncomfortably in the hands of an asshole. When I turned around—which, mind you, was at least a full minute into the music—it looked like the guy was either: a) watching something on YouTube, or b) playing some sort of game. Look, I get that sometimes you’re not as into the movie as you thought you might be. Sometimes you get dragged in by friends or family when you really have zero desire to go in the first place. Regardless, this does not give you the right to fire up the ol’ blackberry at full volume and get after it. GO OUTSIDE, for goodness sake!

A nice lady, who was willing to leave the theatre 10 minutes before the end credits, left to get a manager. The kid was later escorted out. May that be a lesson to all movie goers. Buying yourself a ticket does not allow you to sit in the air conditioning for two hours, doing whatever it is you feel like doing. If that’s what you’re into, go to one the gross theaters, bring a plastic seat protector, and have at it. Do NOT come to a public movie theatre just to make an ass of yourself, please and thank you. I WILL hurt you. I’m curiously strong for my size. (Seriously, carnival freak-show worthy.)

That is all, go about your day.

Ms.I

PS=> To anyone reading this that I actually hang out with, I know none of you are dumb enough to do any of the above. Love ya’ll!

Quote of the Moment: “These are not the druids you’re looking for…what? Aren’t they druids or whatever in that movie?”
Soundtrack of the Moment: Indiana Jones Theme
TV/Movie Quote: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull : “You fight like a young man; eager to start and quick to finish.”

Spring Cleaning

2008-06-03T14:14:00.004-04:00

I’m not the cleanest person in the world.

Let me clarify: I am NOT dirty. My bathroom and sinks and such are clean. There’s no moldy food growing under my couch. Having said this, as anyone who knows me, knows, I’m messy. Or…if not messy, definitely a dropper. Clothing ends up all over my floor, purse and keys are anywhere from kitchen counters to dinner table to couch to bedroom. Don’t even get me started on shoes.

But then, every once in awhile, I go absolutely insane and do a major overhaul. Closet gets completely emptied and rearranged, things come out from under the bed that haven’t seen daylight in years…everything I own gets put into such an organized, alphabetized conglomerate that it’s pretty much impossible for me to deny the OCDness.

This weekend was much of that sort of thing. Not that it started out that way. Friday bounced around with a bunch of exciting possibilities…then they all fell through. Thankfully, Cin took pitty on me, and I ended up staying overnight there. We sat up for most of the night…finally deciding to call it in at almost four A.M. I woke up around six, forced myself to sleep for another hour and a half, then went down for cereal and some cartoons. Restless, I headed back to my place in time to get back into bed before 8:30a.

Instead I turned into an insane asylum escapee and spent the next eight hours doing nothing but organizing, regrouping, vacuuming, dusting, soaping down baseboards, and just generally being a crazy person. For sure this is all part of the “I’m changing my life,” deal, but man, was it ever kinda frightening to watch my OCD rear its ugly, focused head. I honestly think I wasted ten minutes of my life determining what order my blue and green vase should be arranged on my dresser. (Well, the blue is darker, so it should be further behind…but the green looks better when its centered, and it can’t really be centered in the foreground…) The counting was ridiculous. I mean, looking back on it, it probably doesn’t matter that I washed the baseboards exactly three times, with equal strokes of five all the way down, but it seemed super important at the time. Also, I can’t help it that my closet is colour coordinated...or organized by sleeve length/torso length/neck cut/collar. It’s what works for me, so leave it alone.

Sunday I did a bit of laundry, watched Sweeny Todd for the millionth time (and yes, I do sing all the parts, deal with it), fed the fishies and then took off to spend the afternoon/evening with Dad, Dad’s GF, and Dad’s GF’s daughters. He had golf on when I arrived, which is clearly unacceptable. I maintain the only way to enjoy golf is to be around lots of fun people consuming lots of alcohol. My father responded to this by asking if I would like him to make me a drink. I replied that no amount of alcohol would help me enjoy the watching of golf.

Eventually, the youngest of the two daughters and I managed to extricate the remote from Dad, and switched the station over to fabulous cartoons. (6teen and Total Drama Island My father asked when I ever was going to grow up. I upheld the belief that I never would. Weirdly, he seemed pleased by this.

Later on, I forced everyone to watch Mike Meyers host the MTV Movie Awards. Nothing too mind-blowing there…he did it way better back in 1997. (Do you guys remember the lord of the dance opening? Oh, how I wish I could find it on YouTube). Since I cannot, this will have to tide you over:

Megan Fox, my current muse for the sequel to Atsou, had lots of screen time…and I had the rather silly task of convincing my father that yes, he did know who Coldplay was, and that no, they weren’t really a “cool kids” band. Then there was the whole Johnny Depp fiasco…

I love my dad, I really do, but this whole Texan deal of hating anyone who’s spoken out against either the US or presidential policies is retarded. You either love the US freedom and the ability to speak your mind about anything, anywhere (well, with the possible exception of airports) or you think that anyone who speaks their disagreement with a government should be shot. This is a very simple choice, and you only get one; the two cannot coexist on the same plane, within the same person. Trying to accomplish both is like…it’s like throwing bibles at people who are uncertain about God.

Wow, sorry about that. I’m off the soapbox. No, seriously, I’m down. I’m just wearing really tall heels today (Yea, Steve Madden circa Fall 2002!). That’s the other thing about me lately; I seem to be rekindling my love affair with “the heels.” And why not, I ask you? I’m little, I can rock the big girl shoes, and wearing them while climbing stairs really does make my ass look fantastic.

And, really, what more could a girl ask for?

;)

Quote of the Moment: “I had this friend once, who wanted her nose to be bigger so her boyfriend could do her there…not really sure what that means…”
Soundtrack of the Moment: Sweeny Todd, Not While I’m Around
TV/Movie Quote: Saved!:
Hilary Faye: Mary, turn away from Satan. Jesus, he loves you.
Mary: You don't know the first thing about love.
Hilary Faye: [throws a Bible at Mary] I am FILLED with Christ's love! You are just jealous of my success in the Lord.
Mary: [Mary holds up the Bible] This is not a weapon! You idiot.

Reason #307, Why I'm Such a Nerd

2008-05-30T09:51:00.004-04:00

Sooooooo excited about this.

IMDb file on it here.

Come on...can the guys at least get behind me on this one? No? Well, can we all at least agree that it will be more enjoyable then the Sex and the City flick?

Right, knew I could get you on that one. And knowing is half the battle!

;) Ms.I

Quote of the Moment: "Repetition can be the enemy of fun, unless of course you're doing shots or playing Mario Kart Wii."
Soundtrack of the Moment: GI Joe Theme (Ha. Seriously, how hilarious is that video?!)
Movie/TV Quote: G.I. Jane: "I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A bird will fall frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself."

PS=> So, the way that Blogger wraps text makes it appear as though I'm suggesting that GI Joe will be better than "the Sex." Let me please clarify that, no matter how wonderful, GI Joe will in no way come close to "the Sex." Thanks for your time, let's move along.

Just Can’t Get You Outta My Head

2008-05-29T15:51:00.003-04:00

Please explain to me why I’ve become such a bobblehead lately? I mean, REALLY, what the heck is up with me?! Last time I checked, I was not boy crazy. I mean, I don’t scream at hot boys in bands. I’ve never tried to get with a football player (which, trust me, for a Texas girl, is kinda like a sacrilege).

I am comfortable around guys. And, really and truly, most of the time I would rather be in a group of guys than a group of girls. Going back just bit in my family tree, I’ve got my brother, my dad, grandfather, ten uncles, and eight male first-cousins. My major female influence—mommy dearest—is girlie, but plays most sports better than any of the men I know her age. Nailor is mostly male…as is the rest of the sheet metal/HVAC industry. I can’t help it, I’m used to being “one of the guys.”

I’m just not good with the liking of said boys. Usually, it goes one of two ways. The first is easier for me. It’s the silly crushy-ness that happened with BFKP. Crushes are all about attraction. It’s not like you’re looking at this person thinking, “oh, great, here’s awesome relationship potential.” It’s more like, “Man, there are waaaaay too many things I want to do to that man that are sooo not acceptable for a PG-13 (A14, for us Canucks) setting.”

The other side of that…the side that makes me really, super-duper nervous…is the sudden realization that one of the guys you’ve been hanging with sudden seems like someone you need to have in your life on a deeper level. Someone, for lack of a less-lame way to say it, you start to think you’d like to wake up with every morning.

Why this had to happen to me, now of all times…when I’m already planning on completely regrouping my life, is beyond me. I mean…WTF, really? Do I really need something else? And, even more, do I really need something else that occupies my mind so completely that I kinda forget all the other shit I’ve been trying to get done?

Apparently.

Of course, whatever I might want, there’s more than just me in charge of this decision. And that’s probably what makes all of this so forward in my mind. My OCD has kicked up, and now it’s nothing but desperately fixated on the object of my affections. I’m not really in control…so I obsess about it, as an attempt to control it.

Damn it. Blah…lalalalala…Right, moving on.

So, in addition to the above, it seems I have to deal with retarded drivers. The 401 is notoriously an awful road to drive. Wikipedia says, “The 401 is one of the world's busiest highways.” They do not lie. I’ve had people from L.A. tell me that it’s worse than the 101. Anyone who’s driven this stretch of parking lot in the city of angels knows what a big deal that is. A big issue, I feel, is that people really just don’t know how to drive.

No, I’m serious.

Take this morning, for instance. I’m coasting along at a spry 10 to 15 km/h (about 6 to 9 mph, for the rest of you). All four lanes I need to cross are packed and moving likewise. I have my blinker on, plus I’m hanging half out the window so people can see me. In the end, I have to weasel my way in EVERY SINGLE TIME. Seriously? Wtf, people? One guy even honked at me. I turned around and was like, “Dude, we’re stopped, what does it matter? Where you going that one car length matters?! Especially since I’m getting on the Express anyway, so you’ll only have to look at my ass for another 30 seconds.”

Damn it, people. It’s enough to make a girl whish for a gun rack.

;) But I digress.

Quote of the Moment: “If you would just take the time to grow-up, and forget your little hang-ups, you’d see how perfect he’d be fore you.”
Soundtrack of the Moment: RENT, Out Tonight
TV/Movie Quote: Sex in the City(The TV Show): “You men have no idea what we're dealing with down there. Teeth placement, and jaw stress, and suction, and gag reflex, and all the while bobbing up and down, moaning and trying to breathe through our noses. Easy? Honey, they don't call it a job for nothin'.”