There is only one explanation, and This. Explains. Everything.

A play in three acts

characters:
Me - playing myself
Other People Bothering Me (OPBM)- played by themselves

Act One
Set in my small, windowless office, morning.
OPBM (walking in, interrupting an ipod-induced reverie): Can you get me an inventory of the items we discussed yesterday?
Me: I can't. It's Friday.

Act Two
Set on the patio outside the office building, midmorning.
OPBM (interrupting an intense navel-gazing exercise): Can you buy me a cheeseburger today?
Me: I can't. It's Friday.

Act Three
Set in the lobby. Midafternoon.
Me: (walks by OPBM while yawning)
OPBM: Stop yawning!
Me: I can't. It's Friday.

Scene.

An open letter to J, who is unlikely to respond

The bruises from your dog have risen, and are fading. The ache our fight left in me has lessened to a souring in my stomach and for that, I am relieved. We haven’t talked in days, and it’s possible we won’t. If we could, I would tell you that I make mistakes all the time, this is not new to me. The nicest thing about being In The Wrong is that The Wrong is a crowded place; you’re bound to run into someone you know there. I have the capacity to forgive, in fact have forgiven you, and I wish most right now that you could do the same.

This life, and where I’ve chosen to live it out, has turned me into someone I hardly recognize. Where I used to be open and warm I’ve become skeptical, hard, and cynical. This is not something I prefer, but something I need to survive here. It’s possible your motives were pure, and that you never intended to hurt me in the only place I cannot protect. It is possible. It is possible that you are genuine, but in the room your silence creates, I can’t put much faith in it.

We are soured by the sour forces around us; it would take a stronger person than I to resist that. I am trying. I am growing older, and I am growing. This will be gotten beyond, one way or another. But at the present, my greatest wish is just that this could be said, not catalogued, that you would hear. Short of that, I am speaking alone in a quiet room, to an audience of none.

That sneaky John Mayer

I must confess that I love John Mayer. Not just because his last name and mine are oh-so-close (that's an obvious sign of our dessstiny), and not just because he wrote perfectly likeable pop songs, and then took a hiatus and did a delightful blues project. Also not because he's a terriffic guitar player and also has an enviable tattoo on his arm (in a box - another sign of dessstiny).

No. It is because he is one sharp feller. His blog is witty, and today's entry, introducing a new approach to the Global Warming debacle, is worth quoting here:

"So here I am, introducing a third side. A laid-back, panic free approach to environmentalism. One that believes the message of "An Inconvenient Truth" is sound, but that it's an incredibly un-fun name for a movie. A side free from the cry of hypocrisy, for it doesn't make sweeping promises. A side that drives an SUV on the way to the grocery store but then produces nylon mesh bags at the checkout line. A side that believes in bringing a change of perspective to our government but letting Carl Rove finish his meal first."

If you've gotten this far, and regardless of your feelings about pop songs that overuse the word "body" and the lanky and lank-haired singers of same, you must go read the full entry. I insist.

Mayo Girls are a Force of Nature

Mein Sister came to town last weekend.

We rocked Low Divide with Jess:









We rocked Pizza King, where we stunned Travis and Matt (or at least Matt):



We rocked the Turf:



We rocked the turf so hard Pants’ shirt came off:







In all, I can’t wait until she comes back. It’s been 2 years since she was here last, and that was about 1.8 years too long.

The terms of Secret Squirrel Project 887-F

If I move to SF, we must commit to doing all of the following:
-frequent the flea markets,
-eat outrageous food,
-develop a penchant for elegant yet ridicuolous cocktails, and
-become known for hollering.

These are my terms. I'm turning in my application today.

My dog must be a Republican...

...because she keeps me up at night and she never has anything intelligent to say.

Spam - not just for breakfast anymore

We have a series of heavily-armored firewalls at work, but some spam still manages to sneak through. More and more lately, I get that fun spam that's just random words, or what seem like poorly translated text. Today's is, by far, my favorite:

Subject: object staff neat-handedly

From: Al Cooper [akstcalphaomegamnsdgs@alphaomega.com]

Because with such an husband, her misery was considered certain. After sitting a few minutes longer without saying much to anybody, went away.



Sparing prose, inventive use of articles; five stars!

Kill your Television

ABC is going to kill me. More specifically, this Lost business is going to be the death of me. I gather that, since I don't understand a fucking thing that happened on this show last night (except that they were speaking english, and seemed humanoid), this isn't Lost's First Rodeo. So I need to rent some previous seasons, stat; so I've got that.

And THEN (in singsong voice) there's the little problem that whatever happend last night on Lost apparently got everyone so worked up that they needed a drink afterwards. This wouldn't have been a problem, since I was busting arse and taking names on the pool table, except that going to sleep at 3 on a weekday kinda messes with my...let's say...buoyancy. I definitly feel un-buoyant today.

And there was this commercial for this Grey's Anatomy thing with this completely hotlips Doctor character. I suddenly need TV, or my fantasies are going to continue to suck.

Fear, Less

Accused last night of being a fearful person, I am indignant. I have fears, but not like he thinks. Fears are irrational things; if we can rationalize them they are not fears anymore. I am afraid, of: crickets, jumpy dogs, kelp, being touched by cold noodles, burning to death. I am not afraid of people. What could be done to me that is scary? Nothing. I could be killed, I suppose, but then I would be dead with nothing else to worry about; I don’t fear death. I cannot be hurt by people, I am much too strong for that. I suppose that is my only fear involving people: I am afraid that I am stronger than I could ever imagine, and I am afraid of finding that out for sure.

Cautious, now that’s something I can get behind. I don’t like people getting too close to me, I don’t like people assuming they know me or know what’s on my mind. I’m cautious about the situations I put myself in, I’m cautious about people who make the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

I think that I can likely handle anything that might happen to me, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t appreciate having people who look out for me. There’s something tiring in always having to do everything yourself. There’s no weakness in accepting the support of your friends.

And so, Senor Colorado, I arrive at this conclusion: you need me to be a fearful person because it makes you uncomfortable that I don’t need you. You need me to be fearful because you don’t know what else to make of me. That’s fine, and there’ll be no convincing you otherwise. Thing is, I have nothing to prove. I know who and what I am, and I’m quite content to just take care of my own.

Self-unimprovement - now shinier than ever!

From Sean, via myspace, just wasting time...

THE CANS:
Can you blow a bubble?: Affirmative.
Can you dance?: In my own weird way.
Can you do a cart wheel?: Mos definitely.
Can you tie a cherry stem with your tongue?: Yup.
Can you touch your toes?: Yes.
Can you whistle?: Not well.
Can you wiggle your ears?: Does chewing count?
Can you wiggle your nose? Am I being graded on this??
THE DIDS:
Did you ever get into a fist fight in school?: You say nerdy, I say conscientious objector.
Did you ever run away from home?: All the time, just never for long.
Did you ever want to be a doctor?: Nope. I hate your problems.
Did you ever want to be a fire fighter?: Um…no.
THE DOS:
Do you believe in God?: Nein.
Do you know how to swim?: Yes!
Do you like roller coasters?: Not really. Kinda.
Do you own a bike?: I own a sweet trike.
Do you think you could handle the stuff they eat on those reality shows?: Chickens’ feet is my limit. I don’t want fame that badly.
THE DOES:
Does hair loss run in your family at all?: We’re all girls. Dad’s bald…
Does your car get good gas mileage?: Better than your pickup truck, mister.
Does your family have family picnics?: what? Do people really do this??
THE HAVES:
Have you ever been on a plane? All the time.
Have you ever asked someone out?: Sorta.
Have you ever been asked out by someone? Yup.
Have you ever been to the ocean?: Live there, baby!
Have you ever gone fishing?: Yes! Yes!
Have you ever painted your nails?: affirmative.
THE HOWS:
How did you find out about myspace?: Mein sister.
how many people are on your friend's list?: Is this important?
How many of them have you met in person?: All. I don’t like strangers.
How many times has your profile been visited?: Less than yours, I suppose.
How tall are you?: Sigh. Five-foot-six.
How much money do you have on you right now?: Right about…exactly…42 cents.
THE LASTS:
Last person you hung out with?: Danny Lightning.
Last thing you said out loud?: "You will say ‘permission to speak’ before talking to me.”
Last thing someone said to you?: “Permission to speak. Can I borrow your stapler?”
THE WHATS:
What are you listening to?: Drive-By Truckers
What is the weather outside?: I don’t have a window. I’m sure it’s foggy, smoky, windy, or all 3.
What radio station do you listen to?: XM Radio has changed my life. I am a station slut.
What was the last restaurant you ate at?: The Wood.
What was the last thing you bought?: Coffee! Coffee! Coffee! And a scone.
What was the last thing you had to drink?: Coffee! No, water.
What was the last t.v. show you watched?: Don’t have one. I witnessed The Daily Show last night without volume, if that counts.
What's up with your myspace picture? Um…it’s a half rack at Second Bridge. Is that a problem?
THE WHOS:
Who is your newest friend you added to myspace?: It’s all about the Benjamins.
Who was the last person you IM'd?: I don’t believe in IM. It’s obnoxious.
Talked to on the phone?: Some prick from the TV station.
Who is your current crush?: Are we in third grade? This is privileged information, private!
Who was the last person you took pictures with?: Cousin Troy, I think.
Who is in your default picture?: Didn’t I answer this already?
Who was the last person to leave you a comment?: Jacobot.
Who was the last person you said I love you to?: Mein Pants, because he always loves me back.

Two words: Finger Guns

Forces to be reckoned with. Beware, beware (Except for Sister #1, who apparently refuses to brandish her finger guns. We think she's adopted.)

Warranty Service

Though it provides endless amusement to my roommate, I had my chi realigned yesterday. It could be just new-age hocus pocus, but it makes me feel better. I'd been feeling really down, and now I feel great! Or maybe it was the three cups of coffee! Who knows! Who cares?

The hardest part about energy sessions is that they ask you what you want to get out of the session before they begin. This always generates anxiety on my behalf; I feel like I should come up with something really deep, and all I can come up with is "um...like...I want to feel better?"

Fortunately, that's good enough, and after that, my job is mainly to just lie still (quite a task), and try not to giggle.

My favorite product warning: parts have been provided for all installations, but not all installations may require all parts provided. That's what I'm looking for, the installation that will require all provided parts.

To hell with 'how you play the game'

Winning just feels sweeter.

Getting to second base has never felt more urgent

Softball! I haven't played softball since childhood, and was recently coerced onto a coed team which should've been named "the town drunks," because that's apparently how they came up with our roster. Needless to say, we're not very good, but we just play to have fun, and at that we excel. Unfortunately, every other team in the league plays to KICK OUR ASSES. Still fun. Oh, and even getting to first base is a huge thrill again. Literally speaking, of course.

Do NOT play tetherball with this woman.

Laugh all you want, but I can see at night again. I have glasses now, but I just wonder how long it will be until I have sat upon them, dropped them, allowed the dog to eat them...? When I had braces, every time I wore my headgear at recess, I managed to get smacked in the face with the tetherball (I'm still working on my tetherball addiction with the help of a licensed therapist). Glasses? All bets are off.

Scarlett. With two T's.

A year ago, I didn't want a dog, not no way, not no how. Since then, however, the adorable-ness below came my way, and I can't imagine what I'd do without her. I've become a crazy dog-lady. The kind who talks, in complete sentences, to her pets. It was bound to happen, I suppose.

How knitting is like crack - people's evidence number 3,267-F

Knitting is like crack. I try to tell them, and they just don't understand. But now I've met my first YARN SUPPLIER (in a bar, but that's not important right now) (while I was knitting, but that's also not important right now); I have seen the face of knitting sales, and I must inform you that it is HOT. Just as soon as I can figure out how to download it, I'll post a photo. Ladies, avoid this man. He will offer you free yarn. The first one's always free.

Ladies, watch out.