Thursday, June 30, 2005

And Then A Llama Tried To Kill My Friend

so like, the truth is that my stories aren't all that impressive.

i fall. a lot. i spill. a lot. i drink. a lot. (geez, you'd almost think these things were somehow related.)

but whatever. the point is that my stories really aren't that um, "content rich." (see how i am an impressive marketer and can use terms like "content rich?")

unlike my Brilliant Friend Missy. who has amazingly content-rich stories. like the one about the llama who tried to kill her (absolutely no exaggeration). there's also a story about circus midgets (apologies if that's still an un-PC word), the mayor, the governor and a goat, and several others i'm forgetting.

so she was finally inspired enough to start telling her tales in her very own blog.



you guys.

san francisco is falling apart.

did you know that?

did you know that there is a CITYWIDE EPIDEMIC?

yeah, well, i didn't either but there IS. and i never would have known! but then thankGOD the Chronicle has shed light on this very critical CITYWIDE problem.

and now i'll bet you're wondering what this critical problem is.

well, i will tell you, but prepare yourself. okay? the problem that the illustrious Chronicle has brought to our attention is: hackles.

yes. hackles.

hackles, in fact, that are being raised.

i know. it sounds very serious. the Chronicle doesn't report on just anything. seriously. raised hackles are no laughing matter.

especially when, at the heart of this raised-hackle issue, is beer.

see, san francisco holds street fairs. because for some reason, san francisco thinks that street fairs -- which bring hundreds of people together for fun times and for spending money at neighborhood establishments -- is a good idea.

but the seedy underside of these street fairs is dark.

since it turns out that when you hold a street fair for the purpose of drawing crowds, do you know what happens? right. the streets apparently get crowded.

i know.

and then also? when you offer beer to crowds of thirsty people, you know what happens then? right again. the people apparently drink beer.

isn't this shocking?

finally, according to the Chronicle, it also happens that when crowds of people drink beer they get drunk.

i mean, who could have seen this coming?

so now that this light has been shed -- that drunken crowds tend to gather in the exact locations where street fairs are held and beer tents are raised -- we have a basis for understanding the issue at stake. the issue, of course, being that the people who live next to these street fairs tend to notice the drunken crowds.

thus, hackles are raised.

and thankfully the reporters have stepped in to alert us of this. i mean, what is this city coming to? the horror! hosting street fairs to draw crowds of people to beer tents and then actually allowing crowds of people to solicit beer!

but. it gets even worse.

because as i was reading the paper, trying to contain my shock about the CITYWIDE hackle epidemic, i learned something even more devastating.

turns out that MY FRIENDS are DIRECT CULPRITS.

say it ain't so, joe.

but yes, there it was, in print and online: my friend and a cappella companion, MakeOut Kate*, caught on film as the POSTER GIRL for RUINOUS BEER PURCHASING!


frankly, i am still in awe.

i just hope that someday, together, as a city, we will be able to put this episode behind us. till then? well, should your neighborly hackles be raised, you know who to blame.

*MakeOut Kate is called this for a reason. see below.

Turns Out, I'm Not THAT Slutty

so you know, i have a new favorite phrase.

it's called, "making out."

shutup, shutup. i know you've heard it before, but you don't understand. it is the best phrase ever when you know how to use it.

see, an anonymous friend of mine learned this recently, sort of the hard way.

kate: oh yeah, hey! how did that date go with that guy?

anonymous friend of mine: oh, that guy? the one i had all those long conversations with? from craigslist?

kate: yeah. weren't you supposed to meet him this weekend?

afom: oh, yeah. i was. we did. he was really cute.

kate: oh cool. so you had a good time? what did you do?

afom: we met for drinks at a cute neighborhood place. we talked for a long time. and then um, well, he came back to my place...

kate: really? did you make out?

afom: yeah...

kate: that's awesome!

afom, a bit sheepishly: actually kate, um, well...i hadn't planned on it, but we sort of had sex. which i know i should never do on the first date, but...

kate: kristy anonymous, don't worry about it! that's making out, too.

afom: it is?

kate: it is to me. my friends and i just say "make out" and just leave it at that. it covers all the bases and keeps it totally vague.

afom: so if anyone asks i can just say he came back to my place and we made out?

kate: absolutely.

isn't that SO GOOD to know?

see, i (and my anonymous friends) are always learning new and cool things, and so i'm grateful to have people like MakeOut Kate around to teach me.

in fact, did you know that MakeOut Kate is a paragon of culture?

she is.

because if she weren't, she would not have been featured in the San Francisco Chronicle.

kate, on the phone with her mother: hey, mom! guess what!

kate's mom: what?

kate: i got my picture in the paper! in the Chronicle!

kate's mom: that's great! for what?

kate: oh. well, um. for buying beer!

kate's mom: good for you!

of course, little did her mother know that the picture was taken because she is RUINING OUR CITY. more on this above.

More Artistry

again with the art!

i just received another illustration. this one from our friend steph (who did the illustration of the tub...) who totally related to the SPLAT story also.

and it's so dead-on, it's not even funny.

(well, okay, maybe it's a little funny.)

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

I Never Claimed To Be Artistic

i have funny invisible internet friends.

funny, and industrious.

because remember how i was mentioning that the only program i had at my disposal to draw a diagram from was MS "paint"? and i was like, "here's the best i can do":


so then like, RR, my IIF (in, btw, AFGHANISTAN) is all, "Paint is awesome." and provides this example, from the same story:

[note to RR: thanks for making my waist small and biceps big. i rock!]

but even better is the illustration that accompanies the SPLAT story:

pretty darned good if you ask me. who knew "Paint" could do so much?

ah, well. we all know my IIFs are way cooler than i am...

Do Ants Smell?

i swear to return to blogging at least once a day, now that i've returned to my life in san francisco (even though there's been quite an upheaval in my work life...). so that starts tomorrow. i swear.

anyway, i can't wait. i have so much to share!

like, in addition to further episodes of breezy elegance, we have the upcoming Birthday Celebration Ass Picture; the next installment of "My Friends Are Way Cooler Than I Am" (hi, MakeOutKate!); more Bad Things Men Say; extended ignoring of my weight loss and knitting; and, finally, 20 of the most romantic minutes i've spent in san francisco (for the record? happened tonight.)

ya' just never know.

p.s. you're wondering about the title of this post? me, too. for some reason PinkJaime today announced that something we were walking by reminded her of The Smell Of Ants. which is maybe the weirdest thing i've ever heard of. seriously, i cannot believe that ants smell. but she insists they do, and that wet paint reminds her of that smell. i just think she's crazy, but what do i know. maybe ants do smell...

Saturday, June 25, 2005

Return To SF (And Also? Return to SPLAT!)

in case you were concerned, my return trip to san francisco was uneventful. i made it home in one piece, and that is saying a lot.

so i thought a lot on the plane about how many breezy-elegance inspired stories i haven't told you guys yet. and man, are there ever a LOT of them.
[sidenote: um, remember how this blog was supposed to be about weight-loss and knitting? yah-huh. well, since my GYM CLOSED and i've been preparing for my travels and everything, i have not been very good. and hi? sitting around drinking wine and watching my sister with her newborn? not excercise. but more on my renewed renewed renewed weight-loss plans later. (uh, nothing like being around tan, beautiful, quasi-anorexic women to remind oneself of one's goals...) oh and knitting? i was totally on my way to finishing the friggin' ribbed-for-her-pleasure cap for Snarky when i discovered that somehow my wine had crept in and dropped a couple stitches. (yes, the wine dropped the stitches, not me.) but i'm not entirely sure how to fix that, so i just stopeed. i did make a nice scarf, though! and was pleased to discover non-metal knitting needles are allowed on the plane.]

so tonight i'm scheduled to have dinner with my darling Post-Modern Relationship guy friend. (this is the one who would've been an ideal match for me if by "ideal" i mean "my opposite who i could never actually date because he would drive me crazy and then i would have to kill him.") and it's always fun when he comes into town because i get to pick a fancy, cool, hip SF place to take my tall, handsome, dashing just-in-from-europe friend.

these semi-annual dinners make me feel so urban and chic, you know?

but but but, we all know i'm really usually just uh, breezily elegant.

and thus, i picked the restaurant for tonight for a very special reason. because i have something to prove.

see, last december, my company had a nice holiday party at this restaurant. very trendy. very chill. good spot for a non-demoninational, sf-like festive gathering. uh huh. and the food was amazing and the drinks were great and the service was delightful.

so picture this with me. about an hour into the event, i was in a great mood. the party was going well. i had had a few glasses of wine. my colleagues were convivial. my date (TheBoy) looked great and was attentive to me and charming to my coworkers. and i was wearing a "fun" outfit that i felt comfortable in.

(i mention my outfit because it is relevant to the elegance.)

i was wearing long velvet pants that were "cuffed" in marabou. (while i pulled it off for the occassion, in actuality, the marabou had been added to said pants via rudimentary sewing and hot glue the previous halloween when i dressed up as a cat. but that part didn't get mentioned to my coworkers*.)

and because the pants were a little long (because i'm only 5'4"), i had to wear heels with them or else they'd drag on the floor.

i will take a moment now to remind my imaginary internet friends that maybe i am not the best person to go walking around in heels ever. ever. but i continue to try, because i love them. even if they hurt and are stupid and i trip.

but also, heels become a whole different story when we add alcohol to the mix. on the plus side, for some reason i tend to be more steady in heels if i've been drinking. it's true, dunno why. *however* (and you knew there would be a however), despite becoming more agile in heels, drinking also tends to make me believe i don't really need to be wearing shoes at all.

which is why i have found myself shoeless at countless formal occassions (including weddings, especially my own), house parties, informal gatherings, and yes, even in dirty bars and clubs.

oh right! and at holiday parties. at chic restaurants. even when my pants are too long.

so back at the holiday party, then. i am in a fabulous mood, the night is going well, i've had wine, and now my shoes have come off. and so at some point i decide to go to the ladies' room.

the ladies' room is located down a long, candle-lit, cement-floored corridor (which is also the entry to the building).

and on my way back from the ladies', returning to my company's private event room, i decided -- because i was gleeful and all was right with the world because the holiday season was upon us and i was in a cool space in a cool city with cool people -- to skip.

you read that correctly.

i decided to do a (clearly wine-induced) little hop, skip, light-footed gallup thing down the corridor. because yay! for good moods.

which is the point in the evening where my "light-footedness" was demonstrably not. and, as the pants really were too long for me, i sort of "skipped" right onto of one of the cuffs, ripping strands of marabou off. meaning my foot came down and ensnarled itself in the freed marabou. so that when i went to take my next step (because this is all happening very fast and i was already in mid-skip-motion), my foot was stuck in my pant leg.

and i went down.

i literally made a SPLAT! sound that echoed down the cavernous corridor as my hands hit the cement. right in front of the podium where the hostess was standing. right in front of a cute couple entering the restaurant.

right in front of the entire dining room.

restaurant: 1 me: 0

i will point out that i did not, however, fall near where my company party was, so none of my friends or colleagues saw it happen. i was able to just get up, take a deep breath and return to the site of our event as though nothing had happened.

and when i rejoined the group and found TheBoy, he took one look at me and asked, "what happened to your pants?"

i looked down to see quite a marabou "tail" hanging from my right pant leg.

"i sort of took a spill in the hallway," i said. and then tried to tuck the marabou tail into itself so as to be less conspicuous.

i put my shoes back on.

anyway, the point is that tonight i am returning to the scene of the crime and will wear heels and will not skip and will show the dastardly uber-chic restaurant that i am too cool enough to, you know, be there and not fall.

*until now. hi, guys. yep, hot glue.

Hope Springs Eternal

sometimes i get emails from imaginary internet friends and they are nice and sweet and supportive.

sometimes i get emails from imaginary internet friends that are not as nice or sweet, but they are usually supportive in their own way.

sometimes i get emails from men who are smart and interesting and attractive but are geographically challenged, maritally challenged, or both.

i hold out hope, though, that maybe someday the Perfect Guy will find my blog and write me or IM me and it will be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. you know? because really, i am nothing if not optimistic.

and so when this evening i received an IM from a mystery man, i thought -- maybe this could be the Perfect Guy.

or, well.

here is a transcript of our conversation.

it is completely unedited except for the guy's IM name. the italics are my inner-yippety-yap:

randomguy: hi

kristy: hello

randomguy: i like your blog

kristy: thank you

[i look and confirm that he is IMing me at my dedicated blog-IM address in my profile.]

hmmm. okay. here's someone contacting me to chat because he(?) likes my blog. taking intiative. flattering. this could be good.

randomguy: i am in fremont

kristy: those are both good things to know

well, at least i now know you read and you read my blog and you were interested enough to check my profile and to send me an IM. and you're local, as opposed to living on a different continent. so far, so good.

randomguy: :)

kristy: :)

randomguy: can i ask u any questions..and u can ask me anything

uh oh. using "u" for "you" is often a red flag. plus we have some syntactical stuff going on here with the "can i ask u / and u can". but maybe he's smart and just cutting to the chase.

kristy: okay

you can ask me questions, sure

yeah, maybe he has a serious question to ask me about my content or approach or something.

randomguy: u talk abiut sex on your blog?masturbation?

kristy: lol

the "lol" slipped out there, but i had to laugh. because by "i like your blog" you are really saying "i haven't actually read your blog but i noticed you're female and in san francisco and have a readily available IM address."

that's charming. *sigh*

best be direct in my response.

kristy: no

randomguy: lol

"lol"? wonder what's funny about my saying no.

randomguy: ask me now

"ask you now" what? are you asking me to ask you if you blog about masturbation? or just about masturbation at large? because either way, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

randomguy: when did u last masturbate?

kristy: um

need to end this now.

kristy: see, here i thought we were going to engage in actual banter

i am...i guess

you are?

randomguy: i guess i thought about it...because i havent for a while

what? what are you talking about? you thought you were engaging me in banter by bringing up masturbation three sentences in?

you are unbelievable.

also, this is not a good sign, kristy. this guy is trolling the internet looking for some woman to engage him in discussion about when he last masturbated, and for some reason he chose you.

you might want to consider that...

randomguy: hello

oops, took too long to reply. guess he thought you were ignoring him. ha!

kristy: hi

how do i put this?

kristy: i'm not really interested in discussing masturbation with you

randomguy: k..havea nice evening

kristy: k


um. so maybe not the Perfect Guy.

this time.

Monday, June 20, 2005

(Bad) Things Men Say

i announced some time ago that i would be posting about the three worst things men have ever said to me.

i have since changed my mind.

instead, i think i will just periodically post about some of the more notable things men have said to me, both good ("yippety-yap") and bad (bad = wow, my version of the world is different from yours).

for example.

the night before i moved to san francisco i was with my sister in a bar in boston. and the two of us were waiting for her then-boyfriend (now-husband) to join us. we were seated at one end of the bar, and two men were seated at the other end of the bar, perpendicularly.

like this (but please excuse the diagram because my sister only has MS "Paint" and a sad, uncontrollable mouse):

(here, the men are in black and my sister is purple-ish and i am pink, and we look like we are doing some choreographed tap dance a la Shuffling Off To Buffalo but really we were just seated at bar stools.)

now, to set the stage, you must consider a few things.

first, remember that while boston is one of the more liberal cities in the US, parts of it tend to like its liberalism Old School. like, kennedys: good / them crazies out in california: bad.

second, this was about 3 weeks after 9-11. "patriotism" was rabid.

finally, i may be cute and all, but at that time i was not in the best place. i was divorcing, not in great shape, not particularly happy, and not especially receptive to men in bars. (plus i was sitting next to my 23-year old sister who was not divorcing, in great shape, seemingly happy, and charming to men in bars.)

so. the two guys are engaging my sister in conversation while being standoffish with me (and vice versa). and they get on the topic of where everyone lives. they are locals and my sister is too and oh--no, i am not.

"she's actually moving to san francisco tomorrow!" my sister mentions.

and shortly afterwards she excuses herself to go to the ladies' room. leaving me, the chubby older bitter sister, at the bar with two construction workers from south boston.

who just stared at me. while i gave the perfunctory smiles and kept drinking my drink.

until finally one of them looked squarely at me. and squinted a bit.

southie dude, thickly accented: so uh, sayn francisco, eyh?

me: yep.

the guy continued to squint at me. and think. and then offered helpful information.

southie dude: the's a lotta gays theya.


me: mmm-hmm.

much more squinting ensued, but then the guy smirked in a not-good way. and spoke.

southie dude: ah you a gay?

uh, pardon me? what did you just ask me? you, who have not spoken one word to me all night? did you just ask me if i am *a* gay? a GAY?

my mind boggled at how many things were wrong with that question. it was so completely disrespectful, i was just dumbfounded. i barely managed to eek out an answer.

me: uh. um. no....

and then both guys laughed. because isn't that so funny?

i just sat there, silently.

so okay, maybe at first this might not seem like such an inappropriate or offensive question to you. but i assure you it is.

because for some reason, this man thought it was okay to ask me -- a young woman he didn't know and wasn't even being friendly with -- about my personal life. my sex life. and also thought it was okay to generalize about me, my life, my soon-to-be home city, and also to laugh about the gay population at large.

while wearing a "9-11 Never Forget" t-shirt.

and so his question remains one of the most disrespectful things any guy has ever said/asked me. and to this day i am haunted by the fact that i didn't have it in me (then) to give him the verbal smackdown he so deserved.

but at least i've shared it here.

This Is Not A New Entry

because i have been doing things like helping with this:

all day.

tee hee!

Sunday, June 19, 2005

Happy Father's Day

so my sister totally screwed me over this year as far as father's day gifts go, what with giving Dad a GRANDSON and all. (hey Dad, i know you have a new grandson and all and yes, his hands ARE quite big, uh huh i'm sure he COULD be a quarterback-- oh? or pitcher? yes, yes, a pitcher or right, yep even a pianist but um, what do you think of your new tie?)

and the thing is, it's not like i've been the easiest daughter to raise.

not that i was a bad kid or anything like that. no, see, i was difficult in other ways.

in particular, you know that yippity-yap thing? um, this is not new. i sort of developed a penchant for running off at the mouth early. like as soon as i could speak. (we have audio tapes confirming this and let me tell you, i would not want to have to have raised me.)

so my poor father has had to listen to me tell him everything he is doing or has done or will do wrong for a good 29 years now.

which is why i am taking this opportunity to highlight The One time my obnoxiously opinionated self turned out to actually benefit my dad:

after my mother passed away my dad eventually decided he was ready to begin dating. and my sisters and i understood.

in general.

in specific, it was a little harder for us to agree with his dating choices.

for example, the first woman Dad decided was well-suited for him was an old friend of his from high school. that was a fun phone conversation.

Dad: she's perfect for me.

me: really? that's...great.

Dad: well, you know, we have so much in common. we grew up together!

me: does she still live in connecticut?

Dad: no, not anymore. that is a bit of a problem.

me: oh? where does she live?

Dad: florida.

[note: my father lives in new hampshire.]

me: um...

Dad: but we can work that out.

right. Dad went on to explain that she is also a "health nut" who "doesn't drink" and believes in "spiritual healing." and i was trying to not be my usual sarcastic, snarky self, but couldn't help but point out that my father's diet consists mainly of cheeseburgers and bourbon and also he is not so much um, "spiritual." but he (understandably) didn't want to hear it.

and (also understandably), that relationship did not so much um, "work out."

then he put an ad up on Yahoo! personals.

which is when i had to make a deal with myself to shut my smartass, sarcastic, and opinionated self up and try and be supportive of my dad. and as he'd tell me about his dates, i was pretty darned good about not being obnoxious.

however, when "no, she doesn't really a little bit younger than me...and has tattoos" came into play, i decided i had to do something.

and so rather than simply explain to Dad why he was wrong (see? i'm maturing) , i decided to just prove it (okay i'm totally not).

and i went online myself. (we know i have experience with this.) i started looking for someone i thought would be a good match. i perused for hours, and then found the woman who made the most sense to me. a woman who seemed cute and funny and smart.

and i emailed her, explaining who i was and why i was contacting her, and to please find it amusing and charming instead of weird and creepy.

she replied. she said that she thought it was sweet. and sure, i could give my dad her email address.

and then i had to call my dad and relay this to him.

me: hey, Dad.

Dad: hey.

me: um, so i know you are um, sort of seeing someone...

Dad, warily: yeah?

me: but i thought it might be sort of uh, fun, to ah, go online and see what kinds of women were using the personals i used to use. 'cuz you know, they ask about books and stuff like that.

Dad: uh huh...?

me: and i um, well there is this one woman whose ad i kinda liked.

Dad: yeah?

me: don't be mad.

Dad: what did you do?

me: i um, well...i sort of emailed her.


Dad: what did you say?

me: i just said lots of good things about you and that i was contacting her without you knowing about it because i liked her ad.

i did not add to the email the fact that i thought my father was hopeless in finding someone he was compatible with and that i clearly thought i knew better.

[more silence.]

Dad: and?

me: well, she emailed me back and said she thought that was sweet. and that she has kids my age. and that you should email her.

[silence. and then laughter.]

Dad: what's her email address?

so because my dad is brave and has a good sense of humor and probably didn't want to suffer the wrath of me hounding him (did you email her yet? did you email her yet? why haven't you emailed her yet?), he emailed her.

and now, wouldn't it be cool if i could say that then they met and dated and it all worked out and that they lived happily ever after?

well i can.

'cuz they are engaged.

[so okay, my opinions aren't always nice or kind or warranted or sought or good. but at least once my of-course-i-know-better obnoxious self wasn't entirely misguided. and right, sure, my story doesn't really have anything to do with father's day, but whatever. i'm competing with a GRANDSON fer crissakes...]

Saturday, June 18, 2005

Advice From The Beer Garden

do you ever find yourself reading into things?

like maybe when someone says something off-handedly and you decide it's maybe the best, most important thing you've ever heard? (even though maybe vodka has something to do with your perspective?)

well, whatever. here's the stupid story:

so on saturday of memorial day weekend (hi? remember? i toldja i'd get around to writing this) i rounded up my friends for a mid-day gathering at my favorite bar in all of sf.

the reason it is my favorite bar is because it is as frill-less a place as you can get. it is the dive to end all dives. the drinks are simple, strong, and big. the decor is punk rock and biker-chic. if i were cool (and ever-so-much-less clumsy) i would want to ride a bike just to go here with it and add my cool helmet to the shelf. the bar's motto is: "fast. friendly. service. pick one."

the outdoor beer garden is amazing. it's huge and adorned with long wooden tables (and port-o-potties) and very accommodating for all sorts of sunny activities (in my case knitting, but we've already established i'm not cool).

anyway, the best part about it is that everyone there understands that it is what it is, so you end up sitting at tables with people who are actually cool and unpretentious and who you don't know but really may as well.

so what does this all mean? let's consider my day. by the end of saturday night i had:
  • developed a new love for vodka gimlets
  • completely failed to capitalize on having the greatest wing-woman EVER
  • knitted in public wearing this shirt
  • fit seven people in a cab with a case of beer and an enormous pizza
  • received sound advice from a rather opinionated man from hoboken, NJ, and
  • also given his girlfriend a haircut
i will now do my best to give you details about all these things almost a month after the fact, after also having wine and spending a day with family. (wish me luck...)

re: vodka gimlets -
so i am not a vodka drinker.

because after an episode in college wherein i played my first game of "catch up" and chugged a BEER STEIN full of very, VERY cheap vodka barely colored with orange juice, i decided that vodka wasn't so great. actually, i decided that the next morning. for a while there, i thought vodka was actually the greatest thing ever. and then i decided i needed to shower. at a party. (that was my i-need-to-sober-up-MO for a while there. p.s.? doesn't work. p.p.s. also hard to explain to the party host: "hi, i'm sorry but i'm going to have to use your shower.")


so every so often, now that i am an "adult," i partake in some vodka drinking. usually sparingly and usually with many cocktail mixers.

but. Snarky discovered last summer that the end-all be-all summer drink is a gimlet, and in the spirit of creating an annual tradition, i decided to go with her on it this year. and damn, if tart lime vodka gimlets aren't awfully good.

(in case you are wondering if there is a point here, the answer is no. except maybe you should try a gimlet.)

re: wing-woman -
Snarky deserves an award.

here's how it went, before i read "he's just not that into you" and decided i am never, ever hitting on a man again. if he is interested in me, he will hit on me. and if he doesn't have the courage to hit on me, we are probably not compatible.

so right. i returned to the bar to get my second gimlet, with Snarky trailing behind me. as i entered the bar, i had to walk past THE HOTTEST MAN in the bar. and apparently, as i passed him, he noticed me and turned his head to watch me go. Snarky then saw this and ran into the bar to tell me.

now, remember the part where i said the drinks were served in pint glasses? uh huh. so you know what i thought was a good idea after a pint of gimlet? i thought having my friend go tell the hot guy that i thought he was hot was a good idea. uh huh.

and you know what a good friend does after a pint of gimlet? she agrees.

and then.

um, see, vodka-addled brains don't so much think strategically. for example, they think, "that guy is hot i should talk to him." they do not think, "if i were to engage that man in conversation, i should have something interesting/witty to say."

so when you get your friend to talk to the guy, and he is receptive, and then he joins you in the bar and walks up to you and introduces himself and you are suddenly standing face-to-face (as much as my 5'4" face can be 'face-to-face' with someone who is probably 6'4") with him, you are woefully unprepared.

and so instead of engaging in light and charming conversation, you become a complete conversation tragedy. because you think, "i have had a strong cocktail, but i don't want to sound like an idiot, so i should watch what i say because we know what can happen if i run off at the mouth without concern."

unfortunately, that means you just sort of stammer. and start sentences and cut yourself off. and end up sounding rather crazy.

it's not pretty.

and so despite having the best and most effective wing-woman on the planet, your stymied stammering conversation drives him away in record time.

and he was a fireman.

re: yarn ho -
there is not much to say here. a few people, including the bartender, asked me what it meant. and i just said "i knit." because that is my version of being cool and aloof and mysterious in a punk rock biker bar.

re: the point -
so my group of friends met this couple from hoboken. they were funny and spirited*. and we got to chatting and decided we should all be friends (as you do, especially when gimlets are encouraging you).

and this led to the pizza-getting and after-bar partying. and haircut. (which i will not detail for you but just know that it wasn't that bad and i'm sure Emily's hair grew back evenly.)

but before the after-bar situation, i had gotten to talking with the male half of the couple, Ben. and he said the off-handed thing that instantly became the best and most important piece of advice i've ever been given (remember how i mentioned that at the beginning of this post? no? well i did. go see.).

it was like this:

Ben from Jersey: so do you have a boyfriend?

me: no.

Ben from Jersey: do you want one?

me: yes.

Ben from Jersey: then why don't you have one?

me: that is a very good question. i have no idea, i mean --

which is where i was going to explain my stilted verbal run-in with the fireman, but...

Ben from Jersey, interrupting: if you want a boyfriend, why are you sitting here talking to me?

me: well, it's just --

Ben from Jersey: why don't you use your yippity-yap and go talk to any one of these other guys?

and that was it.

(now, i realize you might not find this as profound as i did in that moment, but probably you have not had pint glasses of gimlets, which is key. so bear with me.)

here is what i think. i think Ben from Jersey reminded me that it's not about wing-women, or funny t-shirts, or even men on the bus, or men like The Boy who may or may not even bother to read emails from you**. it's about the fact that i am verbal. and while left unchecked i may be filter-less and exceedingly chatty and tangential and illogical and have a tendency to blather on in person AND in writing (HI!), but that is who i am.

so rather than ignore the yippity-yap, or try and work around it or subvert it, perhaps i should actually try and use it.

perhaps the yippity-yap is actually a selling point.

well okay, no. i know it isn't. but maybe i should just embrace it anyway.

and that is what i think the point is. for me, and for so many of you invisible internet friends who are also (clearly) verbal: maybe it's time we just embrace the verbal insanity and use our yippity-yap.

you know? i figure eventually someone's bound to find it charming. and if not, i'll always have sun-soaked days at the beer garden with yarn and gimlets and good friends.

thanks, Ben.


**more on this later.

Thursday, June 16, 2005

So As I Was Saying

(before i was interrupted with life)

i had to go get my annual physical on tuesday. that's always fun, isn't it?

first of all, i scheduled an 8:40 a.m. appointment for no good reason. and then of COURSE i was out till the wee hours the night before. and not because i think partying on a monday night is a good thing, but it was my a cappella group's last rehearsal with one of our founding members and so we HAD to go out afterwards. and we had ourselves a grand ole' time at a charming piano bar where we sang a LOT and provided entertainment for an obnoxious group of incredibly drunk, suited men, one of whom thought it was AWESOME! that some of us hailed from the east coast and told us so approximately 800 times.

MAINE RULES! by the way.

anyway, so then i had to get up and get myself to the doctor's office despite being stressed and unprepared and very fuzzy. i left my apartment three times (that's as in one, two, three) because i kept forgetting things. like a. where i was going. and then b. my bus pass. and then c. my insurance. and c. was a bitch because i couldn't remember in which of the 5 or 6 "Places I Keep Important Documents" i'd put my new insurance information, so i had to make a mad scramble through my drawers and then couldn't remember which was old information and which was new and which provider is for eyecare and which is for dental and which is for the regular doctor (who is also my o-b-g-y-we-cannot-say-it-but-you-know-who-the-voldemort).

so i jammed 4 different (unopened) envelopes into my bag and headed out.

and sure, here's where you might want to say to me, hey krisy, maybe if you actually opened your mail you might know which insurance provider is which. but then if you did i would just glare at you because i know that, thanks, and besides i'm late.

so by the time i actually got out of my apartment building i realized i didn't have much time to catch the bus. which was problematic.

because where the bus is a normal part of everyday life for many people, it is still challenging for me. see, i'm still not very good at taking the bus. my sense of direction is not so much a "sense" as it is a "vague concept" and so i have a habit of getting on the wrong bus. or sometimes the right bus going in the wrong direction.

so rather than guess and do something stupid, i called Snarky (yes, at 8:15) to confirm what bus i should take. and she told me i could just take the "1 California" and that would do the trick. and i thought "hey! that's easy!" since i live next to california.


uh huh. right. so then, i have a question for you. (especially for those of you who don't live in san francisco and who don't regularly take mass transit.) ready?

Q: On what street does the 1 California travel?

think you've got the answer?

okay, let me see it.

oh look, you ALSO said "California!"

well i am here to tell you, dear imaginary internet friends, that i have asked you a TRICK QUESTION. because in fact the official answer to "on what street does the 1 California travel" is:

A: California, some of the fucking time.

so standing on the corner of california -- all prepared to go to the voldemort's office in the right direction and everything -- i happened to notice that i was not actually standing at a bus stop. and that there wasn't a stop anywhere near me.


i called Snarky back.

me: there is no bus stop.

Snarky: where are you?

me: i'm on california.

Snarky: are you sure?

see, she knows me.

me: yes, i swear.

Snarky: oh, well, you know, now that i think about it, where you are the California runs on Sacramento.

me: it does?? why? this isn't a one-way street! how am i supposed to know this? how do people know these things? how do YOU know these things?

Snarky: we buy maps.

oh. well, whatever. you probably open your mail, too.

anyway, i got on a bus and got to the doctor's office. and that's when i got the call that Healy was going into active labor after almost 24 hours of being at the hospital.

which meant that i was even more distracted and fuzzy when i arrived at the doctor's office and approached the front desk. (right on time, i should add.)

front desk lady with no sense of humor whatsoever: yes?

who starts off a doctor's office visit with "yes?" why do you think i'm here? don't confuse me.

me: i'm kristy, i have an 8:40 appointment.

fdlwnsohw, looking at her monitor: mm-hmm. and are you still living at 33--

me: no, i've moved.

because i'm not engaged anymore either, thanks.

fdlwnsohw: you are going to have to fill out this form then. insurance?

me: um, yes.

fdlwnsohw: who is your carrier?

me, digging through purse: um, i don't know...

i didn't open my envelopes on the bus because i forgot. which meant i was now rummaging through my bag and desperately opening pieces of mail to see if something was notice of insurance.

me: XYZ an insurance company? does that sound right?

fdlwnsohw: are we in their network?

i don't even know if it's an insurance company, how does she think i could possibly know the answer to that question.

me: yes.

fdlwnsohw: but you don't have your card?

me, still rummaging: no.

but i do have a bill for $31.27 for the dentist i should probably pay.

dflwnsohw: here. fill out the top half of this form. you can just pay out-of-pocket today and if you find your insurance information you can have them reimburse you. here. have a seat in the waiting area.

me, totally not meaning it: thank you.

i took a seat and continued going through my mail. and then not only did i find something from a recognizable insurance company, i opened it and discovered it was actually an insurance card! oh lucky day! (but then just as i was going to march back to the humorless woman with my Bona Fide Insurance Card, i got called into the voldemort's office so i had to pass it on to the technician instead. no getting to prove my Insurance Status to the scary lady for me.)

anyway, the visit went pretty much uneventfully. except just as i had positoned myself on my back with my paper gown on and my feet in the stirrups, i looked at the clock and then burst into complete hysterics.

my doctor who was still preparing the torture device was rather alarmed.

the voldemort: uh, why are you laughing?

me: because i just realized that my sister is in the same position at this very moment!

and then i laughed more.

she didn't think it was as funny as i did, but that happens a lot.

anyway, i will end this post by telling you that the bus is even more elusive on the way back.

and yes, i got off at the wrong stop.

Good Aunties Take Pictures

(and post them on their blogs!)

here's the family, just after getting BabyCharlie home:

(daddy brian, mommy healy, and baby charlie)

and a close-up of a not yet two-full-days-old baby!

(who is getting better at opening his eyes!)

and then another very important introduction:

(this is sullivan the dog)

and a soft, warm baby meets a cold, wet (but friendly) nose!


Greetings From Massachusetts

hello from the other coast.

i am at my SisterHealy's house awaiting her return from the hospital with Baby Charlie.

i am also doing laundry. because do you know what kind of sister i am?

correct! i am the older sister who shows up with a suitcase full of unlaundered clothes, my toiletries in a plastic bag from safeway, and no gift for the baby.

but here is Charlie with my youngest Sister, Sam:


Tuesday, June 14, 2005

Me? Sobbing!

first let me say that i have eaten three crackers and had a soy latte so far today, so my concentration skills are currently, um, what's that word? um...


but i leave tomorrow for the 3,000 mi. flight back to new england to see my family and my NEW NEPHEW!

charlie was born today at 3:37 p.m. EDT and was 8 lbs., 14 oz.!!! BIG baby!

and unexpectedly, this has made me cry. i suddenly realized that my sister is actually a mother and this is all suddenly quite amazing. and of course, life being amazing = me sobbing uncontrollably. for hours. and hours.


but i have not been able to keep up with much-needed blogging because i have had some personal stuff to take care of, including but not limited to the blog party; a going-away party; doctor visits (SO the voldemort); an encore going-away party involving many cocktails, drunk lawyers and 8 dancing queens; spending six hours writing a quiz; and um, boys.

this has not left much time for blogging.

however, as i will be trapped on a plane tomorrow for nine million hours, i will be drafting all my horrendously overdue entries. from more episodes of breezy elegance to the stupid things boys say to the advice from mr. jersey to the entry that will highlight the illustrious Make-Out Kate*.

off to quiz...

*who is Make-Out Kate? she is a local celebrity in her own right. stay tuned to find out why. she can also teach you a lesson or two about DNA. more to come.

Sunday, June 12, 2005

Procrastination Station

i have about a million things to do today. not small things, either. i have to clean and pack and launder and shop for much, MUCH needed groceries and clothes. and travelling and flying make me nervous. so rather than prepare for them, i find myself in a procrastination zone.

oh, and? i also have to write a quiz. i am filling in for the regular pub quiz moderator at the Edinburgh Castle on tuesday night. this may not seem like a big deal, but several (15 - 30) teams play at this quiz and take it pretty seriously. and i love trivia and also take it seriously, which is why composing 70 questions is a little stressful! fun, but stressful.

the following morning i will be flying east to visit my family and my sister's new baby.

note: my otherwise sized 0 sister still hasn't popped yet! she was due four days ago...

she's gotta be close!

and so, because i'm stressed, despite having a page-long list of things to do, do you know what i have accomplished?

yes, that's right. i have spent my morning ORGANIZING MY COMPUTER DESKTOP. because it was certainly in need of organizing. uh huh. NOW i am ready to travel! now i am ready for the quiz! thank god all my pictures are in a folder titled "pictures" instead of just strewn about my desktop willy-nilly. phew! i'm practically done with my errands!

but not only have i spent my morning organizing my computer desktop, i have now wasted more time by BLOGGING ABOUT ORGANIZING MY COMPUTER DESKTOP.

and since i'm not ready to stop, i thought i'd post this funny picture taken of me at christmastime by TheBoy. (i found it on my computer desktop, naturally). it's at union square, and is kinda cool because that lightening-looking thing in the background is a cable car going by.

oh sure, i look completely drunk in this picture but really i was just mid-blink. (uh, not that there hadn't been some cocktails.)

phew. i'm glad i got THAT errand done, too. posting a holiday picture in june. for no reason.

maybe i should log off and go knit now. certainly knitting will help get my apartment clean and my bags packed.

yes, definitely.

Saturday, June 11, 2005

Party On

i am hereby extending an invitation to my 30th Birthday Bash to my IIFs
(and those who aren't quite so invisible anymore).

if you would like an evite, please
send me an email and let me you'd like to come!

Call From Dad

me, answering phone:
hi there!

dad: how was it!?

dad has no patience for smalltalk whatsoever. if you can get him to say 'hello' or 'bye' on the phone you have worked a miracle. but he's funny anyway.

me: how was what? the blog party?

dad: yeah. did anyone show up?


me: yes, actually. a handful of my friends and a handful of new people, it was coo--

dad: you know, i tried to comment but it didn't work and your fucking blog froze my computer again.

notice how my father managed to get all the information about the blog party he needed and moved on? because though i thought i had more details to share, i was apparently wrong.

me: it's probably blogger itself, not my actual blog that's causing the problem.

dad: i think you should just buy me a new computer.

me: oh yeah, sure, no problem...

ha, ha.

me: so yeah, it was a good time. i just posted about it with diagrams.

dad: oh did you? my comment was on the post about the gym closing. i wrote:
"kiki* -- bowflex. then that refreshing after-workout glass of wine is just one room away."

me: cute. i'm sure it would've been appreciated.

dad's girlfriend, jane, in the background: did the mean anonymous show up?

me: tell her no, though i wasn't really worried. i figure it's probably some teenage boy.

dad to jane: no. she thinks it's a teenager. do you want to take the phone?

jane in background: no no. but she's probably right. i'll bet there are a lot of teenagers on her blog.

dad to me: why would teenagers want to read your blog?

dad, i have no idea.

and so i try and move the conversation back to the party in a way that might keep dad's interest.

me: so on thursday night i mentioned again that the comments from "dad" are actually from you. they thought that was cool. though they were a bit surprised about--

dad: i know, i AM cool.

jane in background: did you see that one girl who said that you're sexy?

dad, to jane: who's sexy?

jane in background: some commenter said kristy's dad sounded sexy.

dad, to both: oh really? kiki, jane says someone said i'm sexy. where was that?

me: i don't remember that.

dad to jane: she doesn't remember that.

jane in background: i swear someone wrote it.

dad to jane: well WHERE did they write it? kiki said she doesn't remember seeing anything like that.

me: i just don't remember.

jane in background: it was there. someone actually said it.

dad to i-don't-know-who: well get on the computer and scroll back! i could have a hottie-tottie fan out there! SCROLL BACK!!

me: dad, i really don't think--

dad: you have to find it.

jane in background yeah, we'll have to look it up.

me: maybe i will have to post a picture of you.

dad, disappointed: oh, do you have to? could you use one from maybe a few years ago or something?

me: i could use a fake one. is there someone you'd like to be?

jane in background is saying things but i can't make them out because i'm still talking to my dad.

dad, to jane: will you give it a rest!?

dad, to me: fuck it, i will have to find the comment myself.

jane in background: i'm sure she's much too young for you, john.

dad, to me: kiki, i think jane's getting jealous. i gotta be careful, you know. i don't want to piss her off. she's stronger than i am.

me: yeah, i know. be careful.

jane in background says more of stuff i can't decipher because i'm talking.

dad to jane: why am i even holding the--here, you take the phone.

jane to dad: no go ahead, you t--

jane to me on phone: hi, kiki.

*i suppose now is as good a time as ever to reveal that my nickname is kiki.

Gin And Toilet Paper

before i say anything else about our little blog-party shindig, i want to first show you a picture of all my Imaginary Internet Friends together for the first time!:

get it? they're invisible!

(right. that's just a little running-on-three-hours'-sleep-blog humor for ya'. because i fell asleep at 4:30 a.m. because sometimes i talk too much to boys on the phone. this is not the point.)

so i just want to say that all of you who have blogs should totally have blog parties because people are awesome and not actually totally imaginary and not only do they show up but they buy you gin and bring you gifts. GIFTS! (and then you cry because they are so sweet and you are a total dork. and have had gin.)

here's how the party went.

i arrived and the first people there were my friends from real life. (i do actually have friends in real life, which is something i feel i should point out because this wasn't always the case for very tragic, married-in-the-suburbs type reasons.)

here are RiseyP and Serre.

you might note that Serre has a floating kitty head next to her. she didn't actually have a floating kitty head next to her at the bar, but i wanted to show you in an especially artistic way that Serre has just adopted two adorable kitties and they are amazing and wonderful and the cutest things EVER.

and in case you're wondering what the lovely RiseyP (pronounced Reese-ee-pea) is doing with those chopsticks and odd piece of graph paper, i will tell you that you are silly. those aren't chopsticks, those are knitting needles. duh! and that is the beginning of a beautiful ribbed scarf! also duh! (honestly, did you really think it was graph paper??) isn't the ribbing impressive!?

(in actuality, her scarf is not red, but i liked that color in the palette and therefore used it. because accuracy isn't exactly of paramount importance here, you know?)


immediately upon our arriving we snagged the corner table (made, it would seem, for little people) and ordered drinks. i asked the waitress if i should go with gin & soda or rum & diet coke. she suggested gin & soda, so that was my drink for the evening.

because why not take advice from a waitress with no short-term memory, poor hand-eye coordination and no fewer than three facial piercings? this is san francisco, kids.

and to clarify, here is what gin & soda looks like (as rendered in powerpoint before i gave up and waited until saturday morning to finish this entry):

after RiseyP, Serre, and i were settled in, we were joined by some of the singers (see how our mouths are open, ready to sing?) in my a cappella group. here we have the beautiful Melody Of The Crazy sporting a lovely hair scarf. we also have B-School (who is leaving us to go get a fancy-schmancy MBA) in a very cute ponytail.

and with them we have GeekLove (who is adorable and shares my adoration for sexy geeks) who was wearing the prettiest rose-colored shirt (featured) and also brought along darling CuteButQuiet who had adorable rosey cheeks.

and then it happened! we were joined by no-longer-invisible internet friends! and they were interesting and cute and fun and funny and liked (shockingly) the cocktails!

the first person to introduce herself was Sari. she figured we were us because we were a round table of women and included a knitter. we were impressed with Sari's deductive reasoning skills! and also her totally fabulous flashdance-y shirt.

after Sari, we were joined by E&M. E&M drove from far away to be with us, and i'm pretty sure they are the cutest married couple to have ever walked the face of the planet. see?

and what's that on E's arm, you ask? why, a super-fly (fake) tattoo. and do you know what makes it so cool? it's a WINE tattoo. from a winery! and you know what else? they brought me one! i need an occassion to wear it! (my b-day perhaps?) and E even posted about the evening on her beautiful drink-filled blog. (ignore my chins, please.)

we were then also joined by WordyNerd, who, as commented, engaged me in a very intellectual and challengingly philosophical discussion on the cultural impact of the hit song, "Funkytown." or something like that. plus there was conversation about wine country. most importantly, WordyNerd was wearing a tie, which was cause for great concern among the more casually dressed.

i do not know why he does not have hair in this picture, but i have artistic license, so shutup.

moving on, we also got to meet Shull o' Fit, my token lesbian invisible internet friend. she was awesome and sported uber-chic eyewear and found the Bathroom Incident (to be detailed on page 826 of this entry) almost as funny as i did.

also i love her because she would do things like say, "um, KRISTY IS TRYING TO TELL A STORY" when everyone was ignoring me because they were engaged in actual conversations with each other and i, true to form, was babbling endlessly about absolutely nothing. and then i would have to apologize because people should not have to listen to me go on and on and on and on (and on) because i do not have the ability to filter or use the backspace button when i speak and it's a really good thing i do in writing, you know?

and now we come to the part of the story where i meet B of the Boxed Wine.

at one point i was standing near our table, and was approached by the cutest, shyest man you've ever seen, who had a big brown bag with him. and yes, in it was a big beautiful black box of wine. with a gold bow. from him and his colleagues (none of whom could make it, so the poor man was left to deliver the box to our gaggle all by himself) as an early birthday present. which made me cry. and then he apologized for not being able to find a straw big enough! a straw!! too sweet!!! and so because i was on gin number 46, also made me cry.

here is what the box of wine looks like, when opened (which it's been, of course).

and here is B of the Boxed Wine, who is my new best friend (he also shares his fries, by the way, which don't have carbs if you snag them from someone else):

but what would a night like this be without incident? of course there were incidents. i mean, a night like this doesn't get by without a few precious moments of breezy elegance.

for example, there was the Waitress Situation.

for some inexplicable reason, the castle -- which is huge and often very busy -- only has one waitperson at a time, and one bartender. and no matter how talented the waitperson might be, it's too big a job for one person. in particular, our evening's waitress pretty much just melted down. she forgot things, she got many things wrong, she wasn't in a good mood, and eventually just dropped an entire armload of pint glasses on the floor. and they shattered all over RiseyP and B of the Boxed Wine.

and you know what? the brown bag that the wine came in was extra heavy-duty and came in handy for sweeping shattered glass into.

this is why boxed wine should be brought to every event. you just never know how it might save the day.

but wait! who is this?

there was an odd moment when i was in the middle of babbling about god-knows-what and looked up and noticed a familiar face at the bar and for a millisecond thought nothing of it and then realized it was not normal or expected.

TheBoy decided to stop by to see how things were going.

notice how TheBoy is not smiling in the picture except a little? that is because he has a very dry, very dark sense of humor and is especially wry and sarcastic.

so when i approached him and said, "um, what are you doing here," he said, "i finished packing for my business trip and remembered your thing was tonight and thought i'd stop by. how is it going?"

and i said, "it's great. a very interesting mix of people."

and he said, "they have YOU in common. what did you expect?"


and then before leaving he made a joke about how he should have/could have brought a date. it was VERY FUNNY.


then at one point i made a new friend, not blog-related at all. i was in the ladies' room which is small and has two stalls. and i was in one and someone i didn't know was in the other. and um, you know, it was quiet. and then all of a sudden there was a HUGE (and quite startling) CRASH from inside her stall.

then silence.

and i was thinking, "um, what do you do? should i say something? what on earth could have--"

and then she started laughing hysterically. and then so did i.

it turned out she had reached for the toilet paper and the entire dispenser just fell to the floor.

she thanked me for laughing with her.

and that was an awesome opportunity for me, filled with gin and stolen fries and the intoxication that comes from socializing with lots of interesting and genuine and funny people, to explain that actually, i am sitting with an entire group of people who understand just how hysterical rogue toilet paper dispensers are in the grander scheme of things.

and in fact, that's why we're all here.


Friday, June 10, 2005

I Am Horrible

i suck.

i totally have to draw this out, because powerpoint isn't working for me right now. i PROMISE to give full details tonight. this is my one plan for the evening. friday night blogging. i swear.

in fact, i am off from work for the next two weeks so i will be blogging up a storm and you will LONG for the days of single paragraph entries.

Details Coming Forthwith

as soon as i finish my triple venti soy latte (okay so sometimes i don't get a grande drip but today? yeah) and work on the "pictures."

ya'll rock.

Thursday, June 09, 2005

So Are You Guys Excited?

i know my posts have been few and far between and really random lately, i apologize. again.

i promise more are coming.

mostly, i promise to provide DETAILED illustrations of the BLOG PARTY that is happening in 3 hours.


can't wait...

(*which is about how many people i expect to show up, but who cares! we'll rock the IIF toasts!)

Tuesday, June 07, 2005

Not A Good Sign

um, so just as i've further strengthened my resolve to work out regularly, the fates have conspired against me.

because you know what isn't a good thing to find at your gym?

the lights off, the doors locked, and bars (yes, bars) in front of the entrance. and a sign. that says they are closed for good. sorry.

that means i am gymless.

of course, i will persevere, but this will be tricky. i need to find a place i can afford, that doesn't intimidate me, and that i can get to easily enough (easily enough = not somewhere i will excuse myself from going if it's, you know, raining...).


Blog Party Reminder

hey everyone!

friendly reminder that the
Blog Party is still on for THIS THURSDAY
at 7 p.m. at the Edinburgh Castle!

RSVPs are unnecessary -- the more the merrier!

The Power Of Snail-Mail

have i mentioned i'm not good at being on top of things?

well, one of the sweeter emails i've ever gotten was from an IIF who made a very simple request i sort of um, well, was a bit neglectful in mentioning.

my bad! hope you'll consider helping, as per her request below!


A small town in Southwest Missouri by the name of Nevada, MO is celebrating its 150th birthday...There's about 12,000 folks that live in and just outside its city limits now, quite a bit more in the county-wide radius, and then there's folks like me who haven't lived there in years but still consider it "home"

[It would rock if any of you] would be willing to send a postcard depicting the city of your own residence and mail it to the Nevada Missouri Chamber of Commerce and wish the town and its residents "Happy 150th Birthday, Nevada!"!

...I'm envisioning a whole bunch of postcards with pictures of San Fran and Los Angeles and New York City and on and on flooding the mailbox of the Nevada, MO Chamber of Commerce and just imagining the looks of puzzlement and befuddlement on everyone in the office trying to figure out why and how this has happened.

Because if bunches and bunches of "Happy 150th Birthday, Nevada!" postcard greetings are received, a permanent exhibit in the local Bushwacker Historical Museum can be made to preserve the heartfelt sentiments for posterity's sake.


and my new bestest IIF, Zachary, adds:

the chamber of commerce address for postcards to go to:
Nevada-Vernon County Chamber of Commerce
201 E Cherry St, #204
Nevada, MO 64772

here's their website

and here's more about the celebration
(click on the link at left to hear COC director Kathi Wysong spit out the words "sesquicentennial celebration" at the end of her speech ;P )

also, apparently it's pronounced ne-VAY-da.

last, but most important: BUSHWACKER DAYS start june 15! send those postcards NOW!

Also, Even My Imaginary Internet Friends Are Cooler Than I Am

steph is one of my darling IIFs, who also happens to be an amazing illustrator.

i wanted to share one of her pieces with you, since we were just recently on the subject of bathing...

(breezy bathing elegance?)

amazing talent.

Sunday, June 05, 2005

Once Upon A Time

[disclaimer of sorts: a wave of melancholy seems to have swept over me and many of my closest friends. it happens. and so this post has strayed a bit from my norm. apologies, if necessary.]

once upon a time a lunatic e-slut ran headlong into her greatest male foil and fell completely in love with him, which was altogether useless except that it allowed her to fancy herself a poet for like a whole month.

newly separated and very lonely, our e-slut took solace in the internet...finding it the only viable approach to the single's market (given that she was living and working alone in the suburbs in a big house she was trying to sell -- she wasn't exactly getting out much, you know?).

and so she e-met a man whom she thought was everything she wasn't (yet) and thusly perfect: he was deliberate. he knew what he wanted and worked to make it happen. he was well put together, well travelled, well cultured, well read. he was tall and strong and handsome. he was the opposite, if ever there was one, of being a crazy single cat lady.

but as these things (and men) go, he did not quite return her idealized version of their compatibility. he certainly found her charming and amusing, but also recognized the folly in the idea of their actually dating ("we would kill each other"), and also allowed small matters such as their not living in even the same time zone get in the way of the possibility of romance.

instead, he made room for a creative definition of what would be their enduring friendship.

and as they remain friends today, years and engagements and even a marriage later, so shall the friendship forever provide fodder for her wistfulness...

...and very bad poetry.

(i apologize again for the "poetry"/prose below; however, as always, i felt the need to share. this was written about three weeks into our 'relationship' and way before we ever met in person.)

August, 2001

There is something in him about love that seems displaced. He identifies the emotional variable but won’t compute it, and it vanishes from his equations while he calculates. He does not know this.

He came to her in a straight path. He was neither transfixed nor confused. He would give some, and lose nothing, because that is how it could be with her.

She’s making a lot of assumptions; she doesn’t know him at all.

He gave her a story, but not the one he thought. She thought she would learn of him, but he remained as much a stranger as ever.

Once, she controlled all the elements, was the conductor of a cacophonous orchestra, the theater of the absurd. She could tell him about that, she thought, but she’d rather let it go.

Sometimes she says his name aloud hoping that he will become real.

He called theirs a post-modern relationship, which she liked except for the implied detachment. There was, of course, detachment, but that was the thing she wanted least. The more deconstructive their conversations became, the closer she felt to him, and the intrinsic irony left her feeling somewhat helpless. Meanwhile he, enjoying the exchanges, grew more comfortable with their definition.

He spoke of order above all else in a way that she could understand but could not believe. He had made sense of things he’d had to, until everything had to. That is what he had learned. The best way not to break things is not to play with them.

She hated that he was sure of the sense of things. She did things in a way that made them grand.

He would be many grand things to her.

It could be like this.

Who was the spider? The web is so fragile as it is spun, so unnoticeable a passing human fingertip destroys the work unknowingly. The spinning and the spinner remove to another space. The quietest corner receives the shimmering construction, full of cycles and holes and intricacies, all frighteningly delicate and soft. What do we trap?

Come with me into the corner, she asks him, and 'round we’ll go.

Saturday, June 04, 2005

"Calmative" My Ass

did you know that i don't own a digital camera? i don't. it's sad.
(hi, someone's birthday is coming. hint, hint.)

if i did own one, i would take a bazillion pictures.

in particular, i would take a picture of this line from my jar of "calmative" sugar scrub from bath & body works:
caution: may make tub slippery

and i would post the picture at the beginning of this entry, and you would know right away where i'm headed.

so anyway, just pretend it's there. 'k? and here we go...

i don't take a lot of baths even though i think it's required of girlie-girls who are single and have cats and candles and own movies like when harry met sally and are water signs. i'm trying to get better at it.

and i mean, i do like them, i just think they're kind of a hassle. between cleaning the tub and deciding what i'll do while i'm in it (read a book? a magazine? what if i get it wet? do i have a book i wouldn't get upset about dropping in the water with me? 'cuz i will. maybe i should just listen to music? do i have to move the cd player into the bathroom or can i just turn the stereo up loudly from the other room? where is the power cord for my cd player anyway? fuck it, i'll use the stereo. wait, is that too loud for my neighbors? hey, do i have a water-resistant neck pillow?) and picking which of the nine million bath-related products i own i should actually dust off and, you know, use.

anyway, after a long weekend i decided i would finally use the fancy eucalyptus-and-spearmint-oil / brown-sugar-body-scrub my sister got me for christmas. (that's as in 5+ months ago. whatever.)

thankfully, it provided directions, too, because i get a bit overwhelmed by the various things bathstuffs do. like, whether you are to put them in before you fill the tub. or after. or during. and how much you're supposed to use. (like i still hesitate before using an entire vial of bath salts because it just seems wrong; when i was a kid and we used to take bubble baths, we weren't allowed to use more than ONE CAPFUL of anything -- it was alway the Official Bath Rule, you know?)

but in the case of this jar, the stuff said to massage in a circular motion from the ankles up. and that i would then feel the "calmative" powers come over me.

(note: i actually had to look up the word "calmative" because i thought it was a bullshit marketing word -- and you KNOW how those marketing people are.)

but it didn't say whether i was supposed to be in a bath or in the shower to use it. or how much i am supposed to use. (and i hate when the directions say "use generously" because left to my own devices, i'll end up covered in way too much of whatever it is.)


i actually had to stand in my bathroom and really think about it. do you ever have those moments? where you suddenly realize you are expending your otherwise capable mental energy on something you shouldn't be? where you suddenly question how you ever managed to graduate with a fancy college degree. why, yes, i can whip up an impressive honors thesis and um, no, i'm not quite sure how to bathe myself properly. russian formalists? fascinating subject matter. oily sugar scrub? confounding.

but i digress.

after giving serious consideration to what a "scrub" must be, i determined that using it in a bath (i.e. submerged) might not be so useful. in fact, i wondered if i even needed to be in the tub at all to use the stuff...

...but then i remembered the clever clue the jar gave me. (do you? because i feel like i started this post like nine years ago.) right!

caution: may make tub slippery


not underwater + in the tub = use in the shower!

and thus, once in the shower i opened the jar, smelled the calmative smell, and grabbed a "generous" handful of oily scrub and started applying it in circles at my ankles.

oooooOOOOOoooooo. feels good!

(hmmm. smells tasty, too. i wonder if its edible. not that i would eat carbs by the handful, but still.)

i continued upward toward my knee.

and then with my whole lower left leg covered in brown sugar and oil, i rinsed.

which is where i discovered what bath & body works means when it says may make tub slippery. it means that if you allow for the oil to touch anything inside the tub, you can no longer move one inch because if you do you will slip and die.

and hi, if anyone is capable of slipping and dying in the tub, it's me.

and knowing this, i did the only reasonable thing there was to do. i slooooooowly lowered myself, gripped the sides of the tub, and sat my ass down in that shower. oh yes i did.

and so while sitting there, i had to ponder a question i never saw coming (college totally does not prepare you for this shit, i swear*): my god, that sugar scrub feels good, but gosh i'd like to not kill myself using it. what can i do to make the tub bottom unslippery enough to be able to use the scrub and SHOWER like a normal human?

and after some consideration and lengthy discussion with my cat, who loves to hang out in the bathroom with me when i shower to watch me not be afraid of water, it occurred to me (yay!) that a washcloth would probably do the trick. yes! a washcloth! i could lay a washcloth on the bottom of the tub and could stand safely on it and could then hopefully return to feeling the calmative effects of scrubbing death-defyingly slick sugar on my extremities. phew!

um, but then it also occurred to me that the washcloth was hanging from the shower curtain. definitely not within reach.

not wanting to give up, i tried throwing soap at the washcloth to knock it down, but all that did was scare the cat.

so eventually i had to turn the water off (from the sitting position), and then carefully CAREFULLY lift myself out of the bath. whereupon i got the washcloth, put it in position, and re-turned on the water. and i then took my place on the worked! i was able to finish scrubbing myself completely, which gave me great pleasure.

i definitely felt the calmative effects then, but perhaps only because i do not like to leave things unfinished (even in the face of a potentially fatal bathroom injury) and i was pleased that i had successfully conquered a most complex bath product.

*neither does algebra, which i'm still totally bitter about having to learn.

Happy Summer (And Things)

it is apparently -- officially -- summer.

we know that because we've celebrated memorial day and so now it is the next weekend and it's sunny and thus, it must actually be summer.

so i have talked a friend (Mr. QA of the cubit) into doing the most summery thing of ALL with me today.

that's right. we are going to the beach.

now, you might think urban-dwellers might not be very good at doing beachy things. and you would be very right.

i mean, i used to spend my entire summers at the beach, so it's not an altogether foreign concept to me. but then, somehow in the course of growing up (such as i have), it's become far from second nature.

so in getting ready this morning for The Beach, i have done the following things:
  • realized i do not own a bathing suit
  • realized i do not own anything resembling a beach towel or blanket
  • or bag
  • or suntan lotion, though i do own some fake tan stuff which also has spf 20 so i'm currently sitting here at the computer half naked as my skin is not supposed to touch anything (like clothes, apparently) for a good half-hour after applying the fake-tan lotion, which i have just applied
  • gone to walgreens to buy needed beachy items: unfortunately, when faced with the "seasonal" aisle at the drugstore i became a bit overwhelmed, so instead i purchased the following items: wet cat food (i'm hoping the "friskies sliced" will work though we all know it won't, but walgreens doesn't carry fancy feast sliced, so what's a girl to do at 8:45 a.m.?); dry cat food; conditioner; feminine products (yeah, i feel oh-so-summery...); and 4 sticks of string cheese in, i might add, impossible-to-open plastic sealing (which has thus required the use of scissors -- so yes, i am sitting at my computer now, typing, topless, smelling of fake tan, with bits of string cheese cut out of their wrappers all around me) (hey, at least i'm not eating carbs!)
  • made my bed for a completely unknown reason
  • put together my makeshift beach bag, which is really just my yarn bag full of the knitting i'm planning on doing (how beachy!) but with the addition of my journal, in case i want also to write
  • decided, after much deliberation, against bringing a laptop (even though Mr.QA is bringing quite an assemblage of electronic devices because that is what his version of beach behavior is; "i'm certainly not bringing a frisbee" he said, and we both laughed at the thought of my throwing the frisbee to him and it hitting him square in the chest because he hadn't noticed it because he was busy text messaging someone)
  • been dreaming of the starbucks i will be buying on the way to the beach
  • put my hair in pigtails and unearthed my flip-flops: the only two things even remotely resembling appropriate beach-going apparatus
  • packed my iPod because the time it takes to get from here to the beach via public transportation is considerable
  • blogged
and there you have it. how urban-dwellers prepare for the beach.

happy summer!

Thursday, June 02, 2005

And Speaking Of Clumsy

um, you IIFs are awesome. i LOVE your clumsy stories...but wait!

the uncensored picture i've warned you about focuses completely on the clumsiness that is me! so save your details for that Very Special posting (which will be on/around my birthday, as one of my shining-est moments was on the night i turned 28).

and the rest of the posts are coming! i promise.

(the head injury was not due to hangover, but in fact a run-in my head had with my hardwood floor...)

in the meantime, i leave you with this image, which my father (hi! thanks for sending it over!) sent to me saying, "you'll LOVE this!"

thanks, dad. i'll assume you don't think this is me...

Wednesday, June 01, 2005

I Am Guilty And Clumsy

because i am clumsy and because things happen to me like minor head injuries (i'm not kidding. hi, breezy elegance!) i am not really feeling very well. or prolific.

but i feel guilty when i don't write.

so i will just say that i have many, many entries in the works, including:
  • sound advice from a drunk man from hoboken
  • sure, it's "calmative"...until you knock yourself unconscious - with diagrams!
  • three of the most startingly male things ever uttered to me
  • "he's just not that into you," translated, apparently means "he's just not that into YOU, KRISTY" (we are happy for the clarification)
  • the ribbed cap is on it's fourth-and-final attempt
  • the seasonal weight-o-meter
  • a special father-daughter tale*
  • wanna come to my birthday party? - complete with a special, uncensored picture!
i hope you Imaginary Internet Friends will check back soon! i have to go take more advil now.

*do you kids know that the comments left by "dad" are, actually, left by my father? how great is that!?!?