Everything Must Go

Sometimes I’m very precise with my packing: I map out in advance each day’s outfit and know exactly which shoes/shirts/skirts I’m going to need and in what quantities. Shampoos end up neatly packed in ziploc baggies, and socks are in their proper compartments. Then there are times like this, where the job of packing is unfathomably difficult. Right now my ‘packing’ is mostly consists of ‘sweating and panicking and running in circles in a blind frenzy of inefficiency and nausea.’ I'm trying to tackle a little bit each night, but currently my limit is about four minutes, when my brain shuts down, I collapse on my bed with a book and pat myself on the back for surviving, only to resume the activity the next evening with similar result. I can tell that I’m just going to end up packing everything I own in a last-minute panic, up to and including seven pairs of heels, a snowsuit, and my high school prom dress. T-shirts will be balled up and crammed in next to my hot curlers, my old AP Calculus text book, and the entire contents of my underwear drawer, including panty hose that I haven’t worn since 1994 because there are runs up the calf that I could stick an arm through. And then I’m going to arrive in Galicia, and finally breathe, and wonder why there’s a menorah in my carry-on. After lighting it with one of the ten boxes of matches that were hastily crammed in my underwear satchel, I’ll finally relax, stroking the porcelain rooster I grabbed from the kitchen windowsill on my way out the door, and realize...I’M IN SPAIN AND MY ARMS ARE ACHING.

Books to Read in Spain

From the shelves of the library last night, I sent the following text to a handful of friends: “Give me the name of a book to read in Spain.” And I got the following responses. May the following list direct your own personal book list, and also show you just the sort of people I’m friends with.

Caroll: Don Quixote de La Mancha, Make Way For Ducklings

Annelies: The Historian, Don Quixote

David Alexander (or “The Man Behind My VoiceMail”): Candide by Voltaire (“Spain would be the perfect place to appreciate the hilarity of Professor Panglorn’s deduction that ours is the 'best of all possible worlds.'”)

Cindy: Water for Elephants

CD: Candide

Alexandra: A Separate Reality by Carlos Castanega. (“It’s set in Mexico and its amazing. It’s book 2 in a series about shaman and mescaline.”)

Deee: Anything by Pablo Neruda, The Sparrow by M D Russell

Katy: Don Quixote, Zorro by Isabelle Allende

April: Middlemarch, by George Eliot

JKE: Don Quixote

So that’s it, people! Apparently we should all be reading Don Quixote. Get crackin’. I expect book reports from all of you when I return. And a regretful circumstance—the library had very few of these books (read: none of them, which the exception of Make Way for Ducklings, Middlemarch, and Candide). So I checked those three out, along with a Muriel Spark. Katy was so generous as to fling Allende and The Historian at me from her passing car window (actually, she had already parked her car, so we met on a dark, unmarked corner under the trees of Absinthe, where she secretly slid me the books like so many dime bags on Upper Haight). Then we nodded silently at each other in a mutual understanding (“Book Whores”).

The last on my list is Deee's Pablo recommendation (she's absolutely right! How can I NOT take Pablo with me to Espana, where I will sit in a cafe, rain falling around me, and absorbing the words of a master poet? HELLOOOOO! Jump in my back pocket, Pablito. We are TRAVELIN.')

Travel Dates

Have I mentioned that I'm going to Spain? Because I'M GOING TO SPAIN. On Saturday. And just in case you care, I'm getting back on Saturday, October 13th.

I'M SO EXCITED I THINK I JUST THREW UP IN MY MOUTH.

Ask Steve

So every quarter we issue a company newsletter. And by "we," I mean, "mostly me. And a girl who's fabulous at desktop publishing." One of my favorite columns is Ask Steve, where employees can submit questions--any questions--to Steve, and he answers them in his infinite wisdom. Please see below for this quarter's enlightenment. And if you'd like me to be a conduit for any burning questions YOU may have for Steve, just email me and let me know what you'd like me to ask him. It's cheaper and faster than climbing a mountain to talk to some guy with a beard. And if your question doesn't make our company newsletter, it will at least get published here!

After they make Styrofoam, what do they ship it in?
Duh...Bubble Wrap...of course.

Where is the other half of Half Dome?
Scholars maintain that a glacier sheared off the other half of a full dome to create this iconic landmark. I decided to put this myth to the test and the only thing the ice did was water down my rum and coke...Myth Busted. Clearly the other half was removed by aliens in exchange for the Pyramids, those heads on Easter Island, and Cher.

What is the appropriate email etiquette for "Replying to All"? When is it okay? When is it not?
Every situation is unique and requires personal judgment. Since personal judgment is no longer allowed in our society, I recommend NEVER replying to all.

Sometimes, when I'm at a party and have to make small-talk, my brain shuts down and my palms sweat and I can't think of a thing to say. How do I overcome this?

1 oz. vodka
1 oz. tequila
1 oz. rum
1 oz. gin
1 oz. triple sec
1.5 oz. sour mix
1 splash cola
ice
lemon slice

Four Days and Counting!

And then I'm heading to Spain!! I can't wait. I'm so excited. And so nervous. And I know I'm going to forget something huge. Like my underwear. Or my suitcase. EVERYBODY PANIC!

Puss in WHAT?!

Our dearest little vagrant is at work again. Except this time instead of lying, little Autumn has traveled further down the path of evil, and is no doubt rocking the dirtiest mouth in her play group. That's right. Our little angel has turned to obscenities, now that lying has become child's play.

The story: apparently Autumn has a new book. A classic European fairy tale. If you’re pure of heart, you may naively call it “Puss in Boots.” However, if you’re Potty Mouth Long, you may call it “Puss ‘n Boobs,” as in, “I want Puss ‘n Boobs! Where’s Puss n Boobs?!”

What's next, folks?? Black eyeliner? Tattoos? Crack pipes? It all starts with a little spilled juice and a feline fairy tale...

The Handsomest Man Alive

(Other than Aiden John, of course.) Alexander Hamilton, as shown on the ten dollar bill. Look at those soulful bedroom eyes! That teasing smile! ...sigh...it’s like porn, for the wallet.

Unibrow Pad Man

I emailed the following: "Tell me why, when I typed ‘yellow legal pad’ into an image database, this picture came up:

Alexandra replied: Oh, you don't know him? That's "Unibrow Pad Man: Legal Defense for the color Yellow." He's big in Malaysia.

This is why I go to Alexandra with all the big stuff.

Why Caroll Should be in HR, or "WE'RE HIRING!"

So we’re going to be interviewing for a new receptionist soon (you lookin’ for work? Good pay, good benefits, lots of holidays, sick time, and me?) and as someone who gets to help interview, I’d like to be able to ask the following questions, to avoid any future drama. As written by Caroll, who definitely has a career in HR ahead of her...

1. Do you indulge in wearing eau-de-nicotine rather then worrying about the deterioration of your lungs and those of others around you?
2. Is your diet made up of cup-o-noodle to compensate for your weekly paycheck directly deposited to the Porsch dealership? Who says debt isn’t sexy?
3. Have you seen more cable cars in your lifetime then cows?
4. Is your addiction to hip hop so great that you find yourself dancing to any audible beats, including the copy machine cranking out weekly meeting minutes?
5. Have you ever considered shaving your head as a means of proclaiming Spears sympathy?
   
6. Have you received law suits from viewers of your Myspace account complaining of seizures triggered by the flashing graphics?
7. Are all your shoes delivered via Fed Ex within days of you purchasing them online?
8. Are you still taking depression pills from your last reality show audition failure?
9. Did you not get the “Tuna is not an acceptable workplace lunch” memo? (I don’t care if you do work from home!)
10. Do you really think a quick spray of Febreeze once a week equates to a shower?

Darn those laws that forbid me from asking anything that will actually be USEFUL. I’m going to end up having to ask things like, “So, what did you like about your last job?” or “Want to hear a good knock-knock joke?”

Things to Say to Please Men

Apparently someone did a google search for "things to say to please men," and this blog was one of the results. I'm sure they were sorely disappointed that not only did they not get dating tips (Tip One: if you're looking for things to say to please men online, it might already be too late), but they instead found a site that often pokes fun at things men say. So sorry, Lady Seeking Love, for not being able to help you (Tip Two: if I knew any magic man-bait, I probably wouldn't be here right now. I'd be doing something more productive, like showering). I hope your search for love is fruitful, and may there be a site out there dedicated to your cause (Tip Three: try Match. I hear there are plenty of men on there looking for things to say to please women).

Katy on Karaoke

"They don't have to be able to read music: they just have to have a dream."

JaRoni's Mothering Tip #287

Sometimes they just drive you NUTS, but if you shake them hard enough, they quit crying.

Triplets v. Tripletts

Me: Then I met the Triplett's for wine on Monday night...
DK: mmmm...triplets...
Me: Not TRIPLETS. The TRIPLETTS.
DK: Darnit.

They Are the Future

A 15-year-old sends this to my school librarian mother, all hearts and glitter and dazzle. Verbatim:

"If kisses were water, I will give u a sea. If hugs were leaves, I will give u a tree. If LIFE was a planet, I will give u a galaxy, if friendship is life I will give u mine. "worlds best friends week" send this to all ur good friends. Even me, if i am one of them. See how many u get back. If u get more than 3 u r really loved"

Later the same girl sends: "Hey guess what I bought 3 books at the book fair and yes I said books lol!!!"

I hope they were dictionaries. But let's be quite honest: they were probably Sweet Valley Highs. Now if you'll excuse, I'm going to go get myself fixed.

Why Architects Should Not Outsource Their Advertising

Caroll, or "The Source of a Naked Chicken Epiphany"

"Well, TECHNICALLY, you were my inspiration, because if you hadn’t brought up the subject of naked chickens, then I wouldn’t have sat upright on the bus, thinking: “OH! NAKED CHICKEN!”

Edna's RV

I told my college professor/mama that I would write her a story this week. Now you must understand in advance that I am NOT a writer, and I am CERTAINLY not a CREATIVE writer. This story is just intended to be a brain exercise. Because I feel like maybe I will stagnate if my life consists of little more than what I do every day from 8 - 5. And writing a story is one of the hardest challenges I could give myself. So I emailed Alexandra asking for a story idea and received the following:

“So there’s this old woman. Let’s call her Edna. She’s spent her whole life dreaming of going to see the pyramids. It’s been a fantasy for so long that it’s become like this weird symbolic thing that is only real in her mind. So finally one day she decides to go on the Price is Right and gets all the way to the end, the “showcase showdown” as they say, and the grand prize is a trip to Egypt. But she loses and ends up with second prize, an RV. Although she’s devastated about losing the trip to Egypt, she soon comes to realize that Egypt doesn’t really exist anyway so she spends the rest of her days cruising happily around the beautiful and majestic USA in her RV. The end. P.S. she dies when she gets to North Dakota. Not sure why.”

A Candid Hand

I just got this email from an old friend, now married to my college roommate: "I remember a conversation we had of Ginsberg and candor. I hope life is dealing you a candid hand."

Who knew I used to have conversations about Ginsberg and candor? I used to be so SMART. And Kyle apparently still IS, judging by what he's given me to think about.

Hmph. And to think my previous plans for the evening involved macaroni and cheese and Audrey Hepburn. Alas! Candor!

Good News!

No, I'm not pregnant. And for the record, that would NOT be good news. Sidebar: I texted my friend Jenn in Oklahoma and told her, "I've got something to tell you but you can't tell my family," and she responds, "ARE YOU PREGNANT??" "Um...no. I started a blog." This is why I'm trying to move Jenn out of Oklahoma. (Jenn! Come! Now!)

Oh! Back to the Biggest Best News Ever: DEE'S NOT MOVING TO SAN LUIS OBISPO!! I know this excites you as much as it does me. And now I'm REALLY glad I didn't have to climb up in a tree to protest. Because I was thisclose to doing it. I REALLY WAS.

A Puppy Play Date

I just had what could only be considered the doggy-equivalent of a play-date. While spending three hours at the dog park with Peanut, where dogs fly about in a leash-less utopia, sniffing one another and frolicking about in a slobbery, joyous frenzy while the adults watched and discussed puppy age/type/naming, etc., I met the following: Coco the Pomeranian (9 years old, a little over 5 pounds, the vet thinks 'too heavy' so now Mother is concerned), Lori the Labradoodle (accompanied by Jim the Professional Dogwalker), Yorkie Bizzy (Jim's Real Dog), Black Lab Nikki (she had a slobbery yellow ball and a liberal feminist 50-something Mother who was yelled at by Nazi Baby Father to put poor bumbling Nikki on a leash, further propogating the idea that People who have Babies instead of Dogs are Rude and High-Maintenance), and French Mastiff Leo (6 months old and bigger than I am). Then there was the Treasure of the Day: Ezekiel--or Zekey--my new little 2 year old friend. He acted as the human equivalent of a dog and chased around Peanut and Leo all afternoon, calling Peanut "A Peanut," as in, "Where's A Peanut??" or "I have A Peanut's ball!" and when introducing him to another little boy: "That's A Peanut!" He referred to Leo as "Lelo," as in "BAD LELO! That's A Peanut's ball!" or "LeloLeloLelo!" Lelo's father, Steve, taught Zekey how to say "Drop it!" to the dogs so Zekey could steal their balls, but it turned out to be ineffectual when shrieked from a human only three feet tall. I taught Zekey how to roll down a hill (for the record, it is just as much fun as it was twenty years ago, and A LOT FASTER than you remember),and we also played a rousing game of "CATCH ME!" which, after three thousand rounds, led to a game I called "You Go Catch A Peanut While I Sit Down." Then there were the Outsiders. You could tell those who didn't belong to the puppy play group community because One, they used LEASHES, the uptight bastards, and TWO, they'd FREEZE on the path, yanking their dogs close while yours leaped about, and only resuming their walk when you've called your dog a sufficient distance away. We all stopped and stared at These Paranoid People and then whispered about them when they were out of earshot: "They're not from around here." "Did you see the way she pulled that huge dog away from Bizzy? He's a YORKIE!" "I'll bet she doesn't use a poo bag."

Yes, people. This is a puppy play group. And Thursdays after work, at the park across the street, they do the same thing, but with WINE. Just like a good play group should be: mommies and daddies drinking while babies roll around and get dirty. Now THESE are people I can get behind.

My New Boyfriend

I am officially dating someone. And I can tell we are dating because last night he tried to stick his tongue in my mouth. This was after he crawled into my lap, lunging for my face, cooing with joy. Yes. My new boyfriend is ten months old. And he’s the handsomest little man alive. His mother claimed that was the first time he’s ever gone for an open-mouth kiss, but I’m a little skeptical. He was wayyyyyyyyyy too smooth. Maybe he’s been practicing with his teddy bears. At any rate, by the time he’s legal, this stud is MINE. First dibs, ladies, on the record.

Also, his attraction MAY have had something to do with the fact I fed him sugar-dusted churros, which appears to be his language of love. So future girlfriends, make a note: our little heartthrob is a SUCKER for a warm sweetened pastry. When I start babysitting him, we’re going to take field trips to Krispy Kreme so he can have little baby orgasms. (Just kidding, JaRoni! Hire me!) I’m also thinking I should try this little trick with men...pastries could be the answer to boosting my powers of seduction, which are currently lacking (as are my levels of personal hygiene, which is an issue for another blog).

Isn't he irresistible?

Withdrawal of Cheesecake Comment

Apparently my judgment of the Cheesecake Factory has left several CF Fans a little defensive. Notably those who point out that one: they have CHEESEcake (a point I can grant), and two, I was dragged there by fifteen other Geminis four years ago for a huge communal birthday bash (a point I also begrudgingly grant, despite the fact that I did NOT choose it).

So I formally withdraw my judgment. I got WAY too big for my britches there. Anybody want to go to Chili's?

Making Fun of Kids is Funny

I am ‘quite funny.’ Just in case you didn’t know. This review came from—of all places—a sixth grade teacher. And the source of her review? I wrote a campaign speech for a little boy I know running for 6^th Grade Rep at his school. The speech itself was not amusing: it was very serious, very empowered, very 6^th-grade-we-want-a-longer-lunch. But I prefaced the speech (in my note to his mother) by trash-talking Oba’s competition (“Rich Little Gossipy Girls” MAY have been my specific wording). The mother forwarded my email to her son’s account so they could talk about his speech later that night. Oba, in haste, forwarded the entire thread to his teacher so she could approve the speech and he could use it. The email still included, unfortunately, my defamation of his peers. However, rather than getting offended, she found my synopsis of the competition ‘quite funny.’ Thank heavens our educators think insulting children is amusing. Because I certainly do.

I mean, REALLY.

I can't be friends with anybody who lives in San Francisco and wants to go to the Cheesecake Factory for their birthday.

2 Coworkers about a Close Friend

CW 1: No, but Britney wasn’t TOO upset.

CW 2: No, no, she was like, crying when she got in the car!

CW 1: Really?? Oh, I didn’t know THAT.

CW 2: Yeah, she WAS. Totally.

CW 1: I don’t even LIKE Sara Silverman. I’ve NEVER liked her.

CW 2: No, Silverman’s just MEAN. And THEN, after Britney gets in the car...

This is my life from 8 – 5.

My Fortune as Told by a Penny Arcade

“Your hand indicates that two years from now you will have a good opportunity to get wealthy through an acquaintance you will make. You are born under a lucky star, will live long and enjoy good health to the end of your life.”

I just want you all to note the date. Because in two years, I’m gonna be BANKIN.’ And if you want to reap the benefits of my impending wealth, I highly encourage you to start upping the friend-ante now. The following items will make me like you more: flattery, small shiny things, big shiny things, money, food, and drink. Oh, and birthday gifts. All year round.

And thank goodness I can lay off this whole ‘work’ thing as a means to wealth. It was REALLY cramping my style. From now on, I’m just gonna sit back and wait for that acquaintance who’s gonna make me rich.

Who says I lack ambition?

A Couple Talking About Their Fast

Girlfriend: Yeah, we did the lemon water herb tea fast!

Boyfriend: She only made it one day.

Girlfriend: Thirty-six hours.

Boyfriend: Sorry. Thirty-six hours.

Girlfriend: And that’s actually really impressive.

Boyfriend: Then we went out for sushi. It’s important to take it easy when you start eating again.

Girlfriend: We didn’t even do raw fish that night. Just miso soup and edamame.

Why Subcontractors Should Not Be In Charge of Their Advertising

Actual slogan:

To us, it’s about the people.

Better:

To us people, it is about the people who are us and are not us.

Best:

If there were no people, there would be no us to be for.

A Mormon Marathoner on Marijuana

Randy: Just now I was coughing in the back of the office and Megan hollered, “Randy, you should really lay off the grass!” and everybody was just SILENT, like, “Randy?” It was really funny. Everybody knows I’m a closet reefer now.

Autumn's First Lie

Steve’s little Autumn has graduated from sippy cups into Real Live Grownup Cups. And apparently sometimes she tips her cup over. Perhaps she’s an amateur physicist studying the effects of gravity: Steve’s personal juice-covered Newtonian genius. Or perhaps she gets struck by spontaneous destructive urges, similar to the urge to fling something valuable off a cliff, or to snap anything tiny and delicate. Not that I would be familiar with those sorts of desires. Because I’m not. I’m mentally healthy. Just like Autumn.

And Autumn’s first lie occurred the other night when Steve and Nicole were in the kitchen getting dinner. Autumn was seated nicely in her seat at the table, cup in hand. When Steve and Nicole turned to the table, there it was: her drink, everywhere. They inquired: “What happened, Autumn?” “It spilled.” “And who spilled it?” There was silence for a moment as she wracked her brain, looking for the perfect answer, the one that her parents would NOT be able to question. Then she struck gold: “Murphy...or something.”

There you have it, folks. Their dog...”or something” spilled her drink.

I’m so proud of her.

"Be Prepared to Receive Something Special"

...so read my fortune cookie one prophetic moment before I dumped chow fun in my lap. I can’t help but think THIS was my something special. ALMOST as special as the way I whacked my fire alarm to death last night when it started going off and I couldn’t get it to stop. No, correction: I beat it to oblivion, and when it STILL wouldn’t die, and it was going to take TWO books on my chair to help me reach it—I was already balancing on one—I called in a tall neighbor who finished the killing. (My fire alarm is no more, by the way. Feel free to come over this weekend for a bonfire and s’mores in the middle of my bedroom floor. JUST BECAUSE WE CAN.)

Oh, and if anybody’s into the lotto, your lucky number is 08 17 28 39 45, 15. I expect a cut of the profits.

Three Mothers about Two Yogurts for One Baby

Stacey, when babysitting Micah: I gave him a yogurt and when he finished it, he was upset. So I shrugged and thought, "Well, I like to eat two sometimes, too..." So I gave him another one. And he went right to sleep!

Kelly: That's called 'diabetic coma.'

Sara: Stacey, you're going to be an AWESOME mother.

Stacey: Food equals love.

It's MAGIC.

When I was kneeling and photographing a fountain at the Sausalito Art Festival, a little boy approached the water and asked his parents if he could touch it. I then told him in a low voice he should because it’s “good luck water.” Then I continued: “See those crystals the water is pouring over? They’re MAGIC crystals. And if you stick your whole FACE in the fountain, you even get to make a WISH.” Then I got up and left, allowing his parents to do the damage control.

Just Charms, or "If you can't find it, create it."

Recently, Deee and I have found that we live frequently by the philosophy "If you can't find it, create it." Last Christmas, when I couldn't find a Christmas tree ornament of an elephant on skis with a bauble on his head, I made one.



A few months ago, when Deee was craving paper mache birds and wasn't satisfied with the ones she was finding, we began our paper mache bird company.



And now we find ourselves seeking again: this time for matching cell phone charms (so everyone will know we are bffs. And twelve). So far even Japantown has failed us (although I won't say we weren't alternately fascinated and alarmed by Monokuro Boo). And after deciding that hanging a huge glittery stuffed bear or plastic crystals from our phones wasn't our style, we were struck by a brilliant idea: maybe we could MAKE our cell phone charms! Now this idea was of course a big joke (unlike Wind Up Birds, Inc.: average bird price, $4,000), given that we won't be hammering out silver or investing in tiny braided thread anytime soon, but it amused us and led to our newest business: Just Charms. That's all we do. Just Charms. Don't ask us for stickers, or kleenex box covers, or moccasins. That's not what we do. And Deee pointed out that we could strike through our 'paper mache bird company' on the business cards, write in 'Just Charms,' and BAM! We're already in business.

So if you need any charms, let us know. And if you'd like a paper mache bird, sorry. Unless you have $4,000, we've retired. Here is what we do now:

"The more you get, the less you are."

Now, I don't know about you, but as someone innately self-serving, these words of Solomon STING. So maybe I DO find comfort in a new top. Maybe going nuts at the Container Store IS like a high for me. But just because I can spend hours admiring myself in the mirror every time I go shopping does NOT mean I am less of a person. And just because my favorite activity may involve gazing lovingly at my new shelves for days on end does NOT MEAN I am lacking something in my life.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some canisters to fondle.

104

I feel lucky to know this number. I don't know anybody else who knows this number, except for the two people who own this condo. This number is the temperature that I like my shower. And the reason I know this is because The Owners have a shower in which the water temperature is controlled by thermostat, not two battling knobs like in MY shower at home, where I can spend hours adjusting the hot and cold in a futile attempt to reach water perfection: 'I need a little more hot. No, now a little more cold. No, wait, now a little LESS cold. Okay, that's it. Wait. No, more cold. No, too cold! Let's add more hot..." And then the gods of showerland decide to play a joke once I am content, and shift the temperature three degrees, causing me to restart the entire process. A shower for me takes twenty minutes. Ten of these minutes are solely devoted to finding a temperature that isn't burning off a layer of my skin or causing me to lie in the bottom of the tub doing my best Snowden impression.

Except for here. Wonderland. This is a shower I look forward to jumping in. I could spend hours in this shower. (And maybe I do. I'm not telling.) Because all I have to do is turn the knob to 104 and climb in. And BAM! Shower nirvana. My body becomes so enthralled, so gloriously overjoyed, that I can't move for sheer bliss.

My goal in life has now shifted. No longer will I pursue wealth as a means of happiness. I will pursue wealth as a means of owning a shower JUST LIKE THIS.