Congratulations! You're totally not dead, yet!

One of the best, kindest, funnest (funnest is grammatically correct- I just looked it up) people I've ever known is celebrating her birthday today.

Happy birthday, Angie!

Angie has the biggest heart of anyone I know, and even though I may have called her a jerkopotamus for having lost a bunch of weight and looking all sassy, she is a total awesomesaurus and deserving of the best birthday ever.

Angie faces everything in her life, good or bad, with serenity and dignity.

Angie is loyal to a fault. And really her worst quality is how profoundly kind she is.

Angie is always looking for the next opportunity to do better, be better, be happier, and have fun.

The best decision I've made in quite a while was to work out a few days a week with Angie. I'm sure the cardio is great for my health, but the opportunity to monopolize Angie for an hour several days a week is incomparable.

She an amazing partner in crime. And I care for her deeply.

If there is some reward for being wonderful, surely she will receive two.

Angie, you're the best and we all love you. Happy happy happy birthday!

What have I been up to?

Mac and cheese:

















And working late.
Which is not as good as homemade mac and cheese with my family, but I think is also nourishing in its own way.

Things I've also been doing:

• working at Emerald City Comicon
• writing short fiction
• helping my friends bring great books to the marketplace
• scraping together as much time as possible for Muffin, for my friends, and for my family

Watch Out! It's only a matter of time.

Bad blog post fodder

Look what Muffin got me (ie, gosh, look at how great my life is):






















No, not the awesome napkin holder. That I got by complimenting an distant elderly relation on her napkin holder only to be sent home with it. Don't judge, I tried to refuse it, but when she got two more identical ones out of the pantry, my arguments all dried up.

Muffin got me the flowers. And some Fran's salted caramels. And a cookbook. And a Gourmet Walking Tour of Seattle. We started at Andaluca with a duck cake, and my brain exploded. Now all Muffin wants to eat is duck cakes.


















We stopped at a number of places and I finally get what the big deal is with truffles. Check out Savor Seattle Tours if you are in Seattle and like food.

But a good blog post isn't about swanky gifts or how awesome one's boyfriend is. Unfortunately for you, this will not be the best blog post, probably not a good one.

Lately things have been up and down. We had a great trip to Vegas (more on that soon), but I also had a sinus infection that led me to be a crazy person crying in utter despair in front of the CVS on The Strip, which is probably not too unusual, now that I think of it. When we returned, I was happy to come in to the office and get down to business, but I had a week of work waiting and bad news there.

I've watched Theo, my cubical mate's dog for two months a year for seven years. He was a beloved pet and educator. Sadly, on Wednesday, Theo was put down at a pretty amazing twelve years old. He had been having a lot of health problems and while I knew it was coming, I didn't realize how hard it would be. It is too hard to love anything that is so quickly taken from you.

He was a good dog. I miss him a lot.
















I guess I'm just feeling helpless. Maybe that is silly and self-indulgent, maybe it's hormones. All I can say is that I feel like I'm riding an untrustworthy roller coaster.

Intellectually, I know that I have a great life and nothing to complain about, but Theo's situation has thrown me into a deep funk. I also know I have an anxiety disorder, and it is very easy to allow myself to wallow and get carried away with myself.

So think of this crap post this way: I need to remind myself how charmed my life is, how loved I am, and how interesting and entertaining the world is. Because really, isn't blogging all about me? Isn't this one big ego trip?

So, I got flowers, and duck cakes, and, yes, my roommate and I did buy a chocolate cake and eat it in our jammies and it was great. Because things are great, and it isn't that hard to convince myself. Even if it feels a little difficult now.

One of those days.

10 pm is a perfectly fine time to buy an entire 3-layer chocolate torte, right?

Then eat a HUGE piece? I'm gonna go with yes.

Ah-hah!

On Valentine's Day a rat was lying in wait next to where I park my car at Muffin's and though through my vigilance I avoided his attack, he did manage to get the back door of the car open just enough to let rain in that night.

True story.

For reals.

I pulled up and as I sat in my car sending a text to Muffin to come down and let me in, a massive rat ran through the bushes and stopped RIGHT next to my back door. I girded my self and counted to 3... a few times, then leaped out of the car, grabbed my crock pot and Muffin's gifts, kicked the door shut and hoofed it!

The next morning my door was not entirely shut and the storm that night brought quite a bit of rain into my car. Clearly the rat was casing the joint and made his move when I was out of sight. Perhaps nibbling a hole in my break line. Or maybe he just wants my car to have mildew funk. Who knows what terrible plots rats have? I've seen The Secret of NIMH.

So there you have it, proof that rats are creeping out of the toilets and reading my blog.

Comeuppance is a B-word

When my cousin Sean was little he used to "miss the target" and I quickly tired of unexpectedly soggy socks and buns in the bathroom. So I told him that there was a potty monster and he liked a tidy potty, so if you made a mess, the potty monster would drag you into the toilet and eat you like a cheeto.

Of course, while achieving the desired effect of a dry potty environment, there were some undesirable side-effects involving nightmares, fear of night-time potty use, and the like. (Hey, cut me some slack, I was a teenager and this is the son man who told 5 year old footie-jammied me that he thought Santa was a burglar and shot him.)

But now Sean isn't the only one scared of the potty. The potty monster is real and lurking in the bowl with his 4 closest friends, according to the world's laziest image from the Seattle Dept. of Public Health website.



















I've long been aware that Seattle has a rat problem (though not on the scale of Philly, New York, or Tokyo) and I'd also heard that rats could come up toilets, but I was not aware that Seattle has been tracking the horrifying scourge of toilet rats. For "fun" you can check the map of "Rat in the Toilet Complaints" to see if rats have sprang forth from toilets in your neighborhood.

Luckily the authorities have some advice:














Stay calm?! That's easy for them to say; it's not like a rat tried to touch their hiney with its greasy little rat hands!

I liked Ratatouille as much as the next girl, but GACK!

I don't know about the rest of you, but I'll be turning the lights on the next time I go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

3D Controversy

Roger Ebert wrote a controversial article about 3D, and I'm seeing a lot of things written about it, so, as a person who sees a lot (A LOT) of movies, I'll weigh in:

RE: 3D distracts from most movies
Q: When done poorly.

RE: Makes people nauseated/causes headaches
Q: Yes, but coupled with Dramamine, it's often ok.

RE: It is designed to force theaters and ticket buyers to spend additional money.
Q: Bastards.

RE: It makes the film literally darker.
Q: I have heard this, but not noticed it as most 3D seems to be set in dark locales. I assume on purpose.

RE: It limits directors.
Q: So says Chris Nolan. So, I'm inclined to agree, being that he actually films films.

RE: It adds nothing "essential" to the movie-going experience.
Q: Not true in every case. I saw a IMAX 3D film about Hubble (Hubble in 3D- returning to PacSci soon), and it was so amazing in 3D that I cried (literally). I doubt a 2D film would have elicited that response. But I did not feel it added most other films I've seen in 3D, for example, Megamind.

RE: It's a gimmick created by Hollywood to lure us into theaters and compete with ever better home viewing experiences.
Q: Yes.

RE: No serious drama could use it well.
Q: Probably not.

I do have a major objection to 3D. And it is NOT that it isn't used well, makes me hurl, and costs more money; all for no story related purpose (most of the time). It is that my eyes readjust more and more quickly with every 3D movie I see.

The first of the new wave of the 3D films I saw was Coraline- and it was 3D the whole time. Nauseating, headache inducing, but excellently utilized, 3D. I watched nearly the entirety of Avatar without my eyes readjusting (though I did get a headache- even with dramamine).

But now, I couldn't get halfway through Megamind without my eyes readjusting. High cost and physical discomfort drive me away from the desire to see anything in 3D. The only reason I see movies in 3D is so that my friends, who obviously don't have as gifted eyes, can go in 3D. And that scarcely seems worth it.

Films that make too much use of 3D, at the expense of better filmaking, look dreadful in 2D; Clash of the Titans, for example. It makes people lazy, and if I pay extra for 3D, I want to see it in 3D. Not in sea-sick, headachey, sloppily made, expensive 2D.

Probably not going to die yet...

just FYI.

Apparently the horrible occasional pain is likely some kind of muscle spasm. Probably in my esophagus.

So that's fun.

In other news, someone explain why I can't have Jimmy John's everyday.

I think this is a great idea. Maybe I should run this idea by my esophagus first.

I'm a Ramblin' [Wo]Man

MySpace, it's not me, it's you.
So, did you guys also get a pathetic email from MySpace begging for you to come back? Did it squick you out when it said: "The new Myspace provides the best social entertainment experience on Earth. For serious."

Really "new" MySpace, "for serious"? Blech.

Also, you want me to "connect with new like-minded friends. Are you calling me a sex worker? Because as near as I can tell MySpace is entirely populated with porn-stars, escorts, foreign ladies looking for love, and random dudes (dude bots?) who think I'm "hawt" and we should "get together, girl".

Thanks, but no.

My spleen may explode, but maybe not
So occasionally when I'm eating, or just sitting there, minding my own business I will get this intense stabby pain under my ribcage on the left hand side. Since it was only occasional pain, I did nothing about it. Now I've been notified that it could be my spleen, or shingles (which I had before and don't remember much of other than pain pain pain), or maybe syphilis (Muffin would have some 'splaining to do) so I should just go to the doctor. So I am and I will update you on whether or not I may die soonish so you can keep your RSS stuff in order.

Is clumsiness a symptom of horrible disease? Just checking....
Today I tripped over my own feet, ran into a chair, spilled granola all over my desk, and got a paper cut. Maybe I should have stayed in bed?

I am officially an enormous girl
My friend Czabrina learned that wearing an eyemask while you sleep really improves the length and quality of sleep, so she made an eye mask for me for Christmas. It is awesome. I'm sleeping very well. If my mood is better, it is definitely the eye mask. And now I feel like a diva, in a good way.

In other enormous girl news
Angie and I are having a new fitness initiative that we've named Big Ass to Bad Ass. Of course my ultimate goal is to be able to be able to best Muffin in hand to hand combat, but being able to open jars, climb lots of stairs, and look hot in a swimsuit are also secondary goals. Tonight we weigh in, calculate body fat, count pushups and crunches, and measure circumferences. *Gulp*

Then for 3 months we will work like crazy! We plan to do a little hiking, a little dancing, and a lot of gym time. We both plan to start counting calories again. I hope to be pretty buff by Spring, so you'd better watch your back, Muffin.

Frolic Frolic Frolic

The Roommy and I made sure to run around outside last night; we just couldn't let the kids enjoy pristine snow.

Too bad you are kids and have to go to bed early! We can stay up late and watch Walking Dead on our Tivo and then hop around in the snow!!

Downton Abbey Update for Boring Smart People

My friend Beau notified me that Downton Abbey, in its proper original format, is available on DVD right now at Amazon. And will be available on Netflix on 1/25.

The blu-ray will come out in April.

Happy viewing!

PS- PBS can still suck it. Maybe to draw in more American viewers they should have called Sherlock:
"Like the mouse in the Great Mouse Detective, but in modern London, and without Ratigan and also not a mouse."
"Weird guy solves mysteries by being very smart."

You don't always have a choice when it comes to your motto.

Or, "I am what I am."

The great thing about being home and spending time doing things alone, or with just my roommy or Muffin, is the amount of introspection this allows.

On New Year's Day Muffin and I had dinner with an old friend of his who recounted a story about me. On a night out drinking with a large group, Muffin and I detoured to 7-11 before following the others to the condo to post-funk. My eventual entry to the condo was described thus:

"Fuck y'all, I've got a Slurpee."

At the time I objected stating I said no such thing and, furthermore, there is nothing wrong with a good late night Slurpee and given the proximity of the 7-11, this was not totally crazy.

It was pointed out to me that it was December and below freezing; also I was eating beef jerky from the beef jerky bin. He clarified that there was an air of such casualness and coupled with such great enjoyment and utter disregard to norms, that "Fuck y'all, I've got a Slurpee" was wafting off me.

I didn't understand how weather or norms related to Slurpees, or the sweet perfection of salty chewy beef jerky softened and chilled by a sugary slurry of semisolid "cherry" beverage.

After thought, I realize that this is essential to my character. I don't allow things like the relative distance between my self and the sun, or the unsanitary nature of open jerky barrels hold me back from what I want.

In the same way that I sewed a large rubber lobster squeaky lobster on my backpack in high school, I do whatever I want and simply don't care.

So you know what? Screw it. As personal mottoes go, it isn't classy, but it is absolutely accurate.

Fuck y'all, I've got a Slurpee.

















Yes, this is me, with a limited edition Iron Man Slurpee, grilling in the snow while wearing a 600 pollyfill coat and Batman gloves.

Dear Ms. Eaton,

I'm pretty irked by the news that you felt the need to cut the apparently amazing BBC series Downton Abbey in order to make it easier American PBS audiences understand.

"We thought there might be too many references to the entail and they have been cut. It is not a concept people in the US are very familiar with." [said Rebecca Eaton, Executive Producer at PBS, who obviously thinks very little of me].

"American audiences are used to a different speed when it comes to television drama and you need to get into a story very quickly. We also wanted to get to the point where Matthew Crawley arrives on the scene much faster than in the British version. He is a pivotal character and his arrival brings with it drama and conflict. In the British version he doesn't arrive until episode two. In our version he is there in episode one." (From the Daily Telegraph, which I read, in spite of Ms. Eaton's misgivings about my metal abilities and attention span.)

It's true, class struggle oriented, period costume dramas with slow building and complex plot lines aren't too typical in the States, but, Ms. Eaton, you give us too little credit. If one replaces period costume with ripped button-downs and cutoffs and you may find LOST.

Furthermore, what person with a vagina in America has not read or watched Pride & Prejudice? I'm pretty sure anyone who has is at least passingly familiar with the concept of entailment.

And, not to be a dick, but for every random viewer you draw in with Prime Suspect or the fascinating modernized Sherlock and attempt to retain through Little Dorrit, there are 40 viewers there to watch Little Dorrit, but stick around for more titillating shows because they are smart and quite possibly boring people. These are your target audience. Smart and boring people who would rather eat their own faces than watch the eleventy millionth season of The Bachelorette. People who still read books. People who either know what entailment is or can pause the Tivo and Google it.

Why are you pandering and talking down to an America, which if it does require simple television, does so because it has been condescended to so long by people like yourself? Give us the opportunity to decide what is too challenging. Give your viewers the intellectual stimulation that motivates our interest in PBS to begin with, or start showing Millionaire Matchmaker. But don't propose to make me a lovely steak dinner and then chew it for me.

No thanks.

I'm probably not going to watch Downton Abbey on PBS, because of the gratuitous editing, for the following two reasons:

1. I find this characterization of American PBS viewers both unjust and insulting, and
2. I genuinely desire to view this art with its original design and cultural identity intact.

Accusing us of being incapable of enjoying intellectually challenging television is demeaning and misses the opportunity to both demonstrate that entertainment which requires thought is just as worthwhile as other forms created to stifle it, and simultaneously teach us a little bit about turn of the century English society, culture, and inheritance law. These kinds of experiences are what I had thought were the point of PBS to begin with.

But, it's hard to say, on account of how slow I am.

Hugs and kisses,
q.

Please don't text and drive.

Stress Pig knows what you are doing and doesn't like it one bit.

Many of you may remember Stress Pig, the poor soul who died so that I might not bust out of my cubical like the Kool-Aid Man and throw a copy machine at someone.

Saddest day ever. Also a bad day for the copy machine. Kidding. Sorta.

Well my dear friends Drew and Tia (thanks guys!) located a replacement pig, henceforth to also be named Stress Pig, because I am uncreative.

The new Stress Pig seems a little intense to me though. Maybe he reads my blog?

Welcome to the year of not crazy.

Today I stayed in bed till 10. And then, when I got up, I totally didn't make the bed.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOM. It begins!

Happy New Year, friends!

Christmas was awesome, even though I'm totally crazy.

I hope you all enjoyed your little Christmas break.

I ended up staying home and working on numerous Christmas projects including handmade gifts, tons of Christmas treats, and nurturing crippling anxiety.

I'm not sure how the last few years I've gotten it into my head that if I don't: have all my shopping for perfect presents done, presents perfectly wrapped, make at least 4 different kinds of cookies and 3 batches of fudge - all of which are prefect- the world will spontaneously combust because I will have RUINED CHRISTMAS FOREVER.

A few years ago my resolution was to do everything better. (You see, a normal person would not think this was a reasonable resolution. I even blogged about it and only Steve said what I hear so often- "I don't know if that is such a good idea....") This ridiculous resolution gave me license to allow all of my crazy perfectionist tendencies to rear up and bite me (and my loved ones*) in the ass.

This year, my resolution is to calm the hell down. Worry less about the laundry, dishes, and making every little thing perfect. Maybe just worry less in general and try to "be in the moment." (I am not sure what that phrase means, so this may be problematic. How will I know where I am at any given moment with out a color coded spreadsheet to tell me?) Not plan every waking moment of every week and just enjoy time with Muffin. Enjoy reading a book, by myself. Enjoy running on a treadmill and yelling "GAZELLLLLLLE" at Angie.

Can "be less crazy" be a viable resolution? And is that even possible for me? And as I have just recently realized I should, like a scientist, ask myself, is this something I should do? For me, for my friends and family?

Am I going to end up fat and smelly, playing Doctor Mario in my underwear, living off Mountain Dew and cheap pizza like some sort of 15 year old boy version of Howard Hughes? Cause I will straight up tell you that collecting jars of my own urine is not high on my list of interests, also I'm pretty sure that my roommate will object.

Or will this be awesome (not the urine, which I sort of regret bringing up now, the resolution)?

Anyway, my baking of a substandard number of treats, nor my craziness managed to RUIN CHRISTMAS FOREVER, and in fact I had a splendid time hanging out with my family and eating our do-over turkey. (Which, btw, was not poisonous this time, so hooray us!) I got a TON of great gifts, we played fun games, and nobody got food poisoning. Success!

How was your Christmas?

___

*I'm sorry, Muffin. When you suggested that maybe I didn't need to make bread to send down to your parents and then I tried to use the force to choke you with my mind, I might have been experiencing a bit of Yule Madness**.

** Yule madness, like how I apparently was so keyed up from Christmas that I woke up every hour on boxing day until at 5 something I gave up*** and went shopping****.

*** Steve, so sorry about the 5:50 AM text announcing that you could join me at ANY MINUTE, because I was ALREADY OUT SHOPPING AND IT WAS AWESOME. And actually for my behavior later that day when you joined me at a normal hour and I was SO EXCITED, because those Tianna dress up dolls were TWO FOR TWENTY and doesn't your god-daughter need 15 or so of them, and did I mention I'VE BEEN UP SINCE 5 O'CLOCK AND I AM SO STOKED. AND I GOT ALL THE STUFF ON MY LIST AND DO I NEED THIS (IT'S FUNNY BECAUSE RACCOONS DO NOT TYPICALLY SMOKE!) AND ALSO MAYBE A LATTE? WHAT DO YOU MEAN, I DON'T NEED A LATTE! LETS GO RIP OPEN MY NEW PANINI PRESS AND MAKE PANINIS!

**** Hey, did you know that Old Navy opens at 5 AM on boxing day? And that while Target is totally open at 7 and you can pick up those spiffy solar powered light strings you wanted to make this, you are also so tired and out of it that you may think that it is totally fine to buy 7 bags of gift bows, because they are 50! %! Off! But when you sit down later you realize that while is it is totally awesome that you have something like 5 years before you ever need to buy bows again, you now have 210***** bows to store for 5 years.

*****Not hyperbole.

Thinking about Gift Cards

I think the key to gift giving is that it should be from the heart.

Every so often I have difficulty picking a good gift for a loved one, but usually, if you know someone well enough that you buy them gifts, you should know them well enough to find something they like. I usually consider gift cards like politically correct language. Both cash and gift cards come from the same place in your heart, which is usually:
"I don't know you well enough or am too lazy to pick out a good gift."
But the gift card says it with glitter and penguins.

I also feel like a gift card is giving someone money and then chiding them to spend it in a specific manner. "Well, Bob, you can't be trusted to make your own spending decisions, so here's a financial training wheel."

Sometimes I do buy gift cards in special circumstances:
1. Money for people who really can't be trusted to spend it wisely: a Safeway gift card is slightly more likely to be used on groceries than something sketchy. Sure you can sell the card at a loss, or you can use the money you save on groceries for drugs- but at least it wasn't my money.
2. Cards to sporting events, restaurants, craft stores: Gives your recipient an understanding that you know what they like, but didn't want to box them in on dates or materials that they wouldn't prefer.
3. Cards to places the recipient frequently uses or is saving to buy something from: I'd love to help contribute to someone's new pool table, or TV.
4. I'm being a dick on purpose.

Furthermore, gift cards seem environmentally unsound.
Cash gift:
Envelope
Greeting card
Money

Gift Card:
Envelope
Greeting card
Envelope
Gift card

The end result of cash gift is paper to recycle and your stuff. The end result of gift card giving is more to recycle, your stuff, and either -$ from where you spent more than the card or $0.37 left on the card, and of course the card that the cashier throws away when it's empty.

I also read a Slate article that describes gift cards as interest free short term loans from consumers. Coupling that with the fact that you almost always spend more money than the gift card's denomination, gift cards are a great deal for the conglomerates, to whom, we already give a lot of money. It seems a bit like the exact opposite of interest- one consumer gives the loan and the other pays the company a little extra later.

In closing, ba humbug!

"Asshole" not acceptable Post Office language.

Dear USPS Customers,

Get your shit together. I can drop any bad word I want on this blog, because people can choose to read this or not. But, dear fellow humans, when you are at the post office, I do not care how long the line is, paste on a happy face and just wait. I know it sucks. Nobody wants to be here. But it really sucks for everyone when you are a d-bag.

Don't be rude to the workers there. Accept your fate. You are at the post office on the 13th of December. This is your fault.

And you, chivalrous guy who stepped up top defend the post lady and ended up in a yelling match that looked like it might become physical, your heart was totally in the right place, but your language was in the Marines.

Yes, that other guy was an enormous sphincter, but when you curse him out in front of young children and ladies older than my granny, you join the asshole parade. Earmuffs, buddy. Earmuffs.

There was a time where people wore hats. And your hat reminded you that you are in public. Your hat reminded you to be a member of a society with rules for appropriate behavior.

I think we need hats again. To tip. To hold in our hands, preventing hands curling into fists. A hat, to worry about losing should you set it own to smack some guy at the post office in front of some preschoolers, nervous office ladies, and God.

If you can't behave appropriately amongst society, stay home. Use Amazon. Don't threaten other people at the post-office. I was dialing 911 and edging towards the door to shut both of you idiots out and away from the regular people.

Get some self-respect. Do you really want to be the kind of dude who gets arrested at the post office? You're already the dude there in sweats.

Where's dignity gone? Graciousness? Are they out there with the hats? Lost forever?