In the quest for alcoholic sustenance for this evening's festivities, Jen participated in the following (HILARIOUS) e-mail exchange. I enjoyed reading it so much that I am blatantly appropriating it for my own use, and in an incredibly self-involved move I will plan to visit my OWN blog several times a day just to read it again.
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From: jennifer [surname redacted] Sent: Thursday, May 08, 2008 3:47 PM To: info@uberbier.com Subject: pony keg of PBR
Hi, how much do you charge for a pony keg of PBR?
Thanks, jennifer
On Thu, May 8, 2008 at 4:12 PM, Uber Tavern wrote:
PBR no come in no pony...only full size horsey. Giddyup.
So, my brother got married. It's a little surreal, actually, because sometimes I forget that we are both "of age", I guess, and both grown-ups, relatively speaking, and it strikes me as incredibly weird that my little brother is now a married man.
But wow, his kiddo, my niece Maddie, is sure a cute one! More on the wedding (and some "official" pictures, too) coming up.
I'll admit, that one made me a little weepy. Maybe it's the PMS, or maybe it's the barest hope that this election season won't be as depressing as the last EIGHT $^&@*#! YEARS. Go vote.
Jen thinks marking hard boiled eggs with an "H" is weird. I beg to differ. I don't have time to spin them all to figure out which one is which. I strive for efficiency in my egg selection. And really? It's SO much better than accidentally trying to peel a raw one.
Sometimes, it is not about me. Other people can have bad days and seem distant or strange or angry with me -- and when I can't figure out why, sometimes it's helpful to remember that they have whole vibrant lives outside of their daily interaction with me. And it might make me a better friend to inquire about their day, about the true source of their feelings, instead of making it all about me. Just a reminder to myself.
What is the internet for, if not embarrassing admissions? To wit: I am really, really enjoying Ashlee Simpson's L.O.V.E. -- for reals. So much so that I actually don't even mind that she spells her name "Ashlee" (well, mostly). I'm sorry. I'm pretty sure that just ruined any shred of hardcore cred roller derby ever gave me.
For reals. Please vote. Tomorrow is the actual voting day and deadline for absentee ballots to be postmarked -- don't forget! Not participating is a pretty good way to ensure that your opinion quickly become irrelevant.
Does it make me a bad person that I want to get a Roomba? I mean, not only to vacuum up after the cats, who've taken litter-kicking to all new heights, but also to see what the cats think of a vacuum that chases them around without a human attached? I think it would be funny, but maybe a little bit too traumatic. Those with the vacuum-robots: do the cats live in mortal terror of them? Are they loud? Can I make it actually chase them? [answer: no, too cruel, but fun to think about] Bonus: I could dress it up LIKE a cat, similar to Kate's Roomba-mod a few years ago.
[edit: things I learned while writing this post = I ALWAYS spell vacuum "vaccum" on the first try; dunno why]
'nuff said. We just spent a relaxing Saturday afternoon playing videogames with some of our favorite people: Edie Brickwall and Mr. Brickwall.
However, in the process, we neglected the following tasks:
Cleaning the house
Going to the gym
Un-hemming all my pants (why must pants always shrink UP and never IN?)
Any sort of actual productivity, other than hitting level 36 with my warlock
Did your eyes just roll at that last thing? It's ok. I've embraced my nerdiness. Now I just need to find the balance between real-world and fake -- if I start talking about my WoW friends more than my real ones, please come over and shut off my internet, for my own good. It's in your hands, real friends.
Tonight we went to see To Kill a Mockingbird at The Intiman Theater with a good friend who I don't get to see nearly enough. The set was awesome (supremely creepy at one point) and the kids ... were a little shrill but got easier to understand as the play when on. The actor who played Atticus reminded me of Jen's dad, if he was a southern gentleman lawyer.
The play was not at all marred by the fact that we all had garlic breath fit to kill someone. We went to Panos' Greek Taverna beforehand and it was delicious. Next time, more tzatziki, less kalamata -- yum, but too salty (I can't stop eating them until my mouth shrivels up with salt-induced dehydration).
This is the second play we've seen in as many weeks, and I like it quite a bit. With all the money we save by being nerds who stay home and play WoW, we might be able to afford a few more of these outings.
Last night. Rodrigo y Gabriela. Amazing! One of my favorites already. Overheard at the concert: "They have amazing stage presence for two people just sitting in chairs." Agreed.
The phone behind me is ringing, but no one is answering it. That's because the desk is empty, and not just temporarily: the phone number belongs to someone who hasn't worked here in over a year. Typically, within a few months of someone departing for greener pastures, the only calls their phone continues to receive are sales calls, so we ignore it.
However, the phone behind me is still ringing, despite having gone to voice mail several times. My co-worker and I look at each other and I decide to satisfy my curiosity and answer it.
Helpful-and-curious girl: "Hello?"
Not-yet-rude person: "Hello, I'm trying to reach [medical center at place of employment]."
HACG: "Oh, I'm sorry -- you've called a wrong number. This is also [place of employment] but not the medical center. This is a research laboratory."
NYRP: "Well, I received this number for the medical center. Can you give me the number for the medical center billing office?"
HACG: "No, I'm sorry, I don't have that information."
NYRP: "What number is this? Are you sure I don't have the right number? This is the number they gave me. What number is this?"
HACG: (ack, this isn't my desk, I don't KNOW the direct line) "Um, I don't know the number."
NYRP: "You don't know the number?"
HACG: "No, it isn't my phone ... I don't know the number."
Now-surprisingly-totally-rude-person: "You don't know your own telephone number? Goodbye, dummy!"
For reals. I just got called a "dummy" by some totally random wrong number. Very, very strange. He was totally nice, if a bit flustered, up until that point -- then, BAM. Rude.
So, I'm pretty forgetful, yes? Yes. This is important to the story.
Anyway, some friends have been planning a very fun little get-away weekend in a house on a lake (on the agenda: food, booze, and KNITTING) and last week I got all excited and jumped the gun and thought it was THAT. WEEKEND. HOW. EXCITING. Let's pack!
But no. It was not that weekend. Whew, I thought, because really? I'm not ready yet, I have lots of laundry to do, this is good, I'll be more prepared next weekend when it's time to head out. Haha, don't I look dumb? Note to self: buy a replacement moleskin planner because you are going nuts ever since you lost the last one.
Which brings us to TODAY. The day of the TRIP! HOW. EXCITING. I have my yarn all picked out and am going over grocery lists and thinking, hmmm, I wonder how you get to this little house on the lake? I don't have any directions! Luckily, I think, I can call my friends, who are already on the road, since they can leave work early (or are self-employed)(ha, name-dropping), and get some directions. So, semi-frantic message left, I continued finishing up at work so I can leave early for FUN. WEEKEND. ON THE LAKE. With KNITTING AND BOOZE. Whee!
But driving-friend is not calling me back, and it's getting even closer to the time when I should be leaving, so I decide to go straight to the source and call the rental agency ... who told me ... drum roll ...
THE TRIP IS $&$^$#&*$^# NEXT WEEKEND. Seriously? How did I do this twice in a row? Jesus.
Too bad that he played Seattle for three nights, the last of which is tonight at McCaw Hall, and I didn't "discover" him until this afternoon1. Shoot.
1Jen has informed me that my new crush puts me in a class with 53-year-old2 second grade teachers everywhere. Apparently he's very popular with the older ladies. Whatever. She listens to ABBA.
2I do rather like playing bingo, though. And shuffleboard. Hmmm.
I know, I know. The meme is tired, the joke is overused, funny-cat-pictures are, like, the oldest thing on the internet. But whatever. Some of them are still pure gold. Like this one:
Ok, so I have a funny thing to tell you, but it requires admitting something embarrassing. I also have a new hobby, which is also sort of embarrassing, so I figure it's better to just do it all at once and let the fire of mortification fade over time.
1. I have been in dire need of a haircut for, like, six months. Maybe longer. It had grown out from short and shaggy to long and, well, shaggy. In a bad way. Anyway, I kept putting off a hair appointment, because I didn't know what I wanted in the way of "style", so to speak. To the point: the other day, because I am cringingly un-cool, I decided that a good way to approach the problem would be to Google for "hip haircut". Heh. Laugh it up, yo -- I know already. So, anyway, it turns out that the NUMBER ONE RESULT for the Google search "hip haircut" is this site. A MORMON STYLE SITE called Mormon Chic (an oxymoron if I ever heard one)(no offense to the Mormons I know, but y'all ain't exactly frequenting Fashion Week)(Jen's sister is an exception; she is very stylish). Anyway. Funny, no?
2. New hobby = World of Warcraft. 'nuff said, right? But no! I am already addicted and it's only been installed for, like, three days. I love it and I missed playing nerdy games and I even roped Jen into playing it with me and she loves it too and it's awesome. I used to play EverQuest with my ex-boyfriend Josh (and he's the one who hooked me up with WoW) and you know what? I missed the nerdy games. I really did. I'm already level 7. I'm really glad it's almost the off-season so I can play more often. Woo.
[I have that "nerd" shirt, too. You know, to spell it out in case it wasn't obvious just from lookin'.]
Well, not really. But there is no quicker way to my heart than knowing just how nerdy I am and thinking it is a good thing. Buying me shiny pretty jewelry to celebrate my nerdiness is just the cherry on top.
In that vein, I am now the proud new owner of a shiny pretty necklace in the shape of a serotonin molecule. Because she just wants me to be happy (get it?). Aw.
Last night, we drove way too far, drank too much, and spent way too much money. It was awesome. We (and a group of some of our closest, gayest friends) spent the evening sprawled on the grass at the Chateau Ste. Michelle Winery, drinking bottles and bottles of delicious wine, listening to the Doobie Brothers. And watching old people get really, really trashed. Fan-TAS-tic.
Please note that the image above was totally stolen from a random website, because of course the winery does not allow photography*. Nor were we actually sitting that close, though we did wander that direction toward the end just to get a glimpse of '70s rock royalty up close and personal.
It was a great evening. I have grass-stained feet from kicking off my flip-flops and dancing in the field. I had wine-stained teeth from drinking an entire bottle of the 2005 Cold Fiddle (yum). The Doobie Brothers rocked the metaphorical house (it's an outside venue). We sang along and nobody scowled at us. We brought picnic food (they allow that, we didn't have to cram fruit salad down our pants or anything) and ate too much and ended up sharing our leftovers on the shuttle bus back to the parking lot with folks who were finally drunk enough to talk to strangers, although one of them did keep asking our friend Kabian if she was "American". Which was strange.
We stayed until the descending swarm of mosquitoes chased us home, sleepy and a little bit drunk (don't worry, the dubiously-American Kabian was our designated driver, in her indubitably-awesome minivan).
*In fact, Jen almost had to take the shuttle back to the car because she got caught trying to sneak a camera in, but then had the brilliant idea to stuff the camera into the sleeping bag once out of sight of the security folks**.
**Security, in general, was pretty lax. I'm guessing that the over-50 crowd doesn't really get that rowdy, even when really, really, painfully drunk.
I have been wanting to start AND FINISH a sweater for, like, three years. I got a good start on a hoodie sweater with a kangaroo pocket only to realize when I was almost done that the shoulders were too square and I would be much better suited to a raglan sweater cut.
So I ripped it out and started over. And by "started over" I mean "didn't do a damn thing about it for a year and a half".
Ugh. So, I really miss knitting, and I miss my "knitting friends" and I miss feeling creative instead of rushed. I've said this before, but it appears that all that I can do right now is whine about it. These days even when I sit down and knit something (a rare occasion in and of itself) it's something extremely basic and not all that interesting. And I like interesting (no, not this kind, but this kind).
Just one more thing to add to the list of "Things I Could Be Doing Now Instead of Derby". [sigh]
I've been recently informed that my "blog" (hey, how is it that 10 years later that word still pretty much sucks?) has recently veered away from the personal and become more "hey, look at this fun site I found?" instead. [note: and to make things worse, the things I "find" are really fun sites found by other people with more time on their hands, so I'm just a conduit for THEIR creativity and net-savvy-searching!]
Well, there's a reason for that. The reason is this: the personal has been pretty awful. And involves a lot of drama, very little of which is my own personal drama, so I didn't really feel like talking about it online, for fear of escalating everything. But earlier this week I gave myself a stress-related neck injury, so I think it's time to vent a little.
Ok.
So, I have some friends, and we play on a roller derby team together. I bet you didn't know that. Well, one of these friends went and slept with another one of these friends' husband. Not cool, right? Yeah. So, things immediately erupted into a storm of awful encounters and rumors and things were very tense for everyone on the team. Fortunately, the cuckqueaning first friend [vocabulary lesson: "cuckquean" is the female-equivalent of "cuckold"] made herself scarce for awhile which allowed things to calm down somewhat, but she has recently expressed interest in returning to the team, which is causing everything to erupt all over again.
Now, let's be clear. Both of these people are my friends, and just because one of the fucked up royally doesn't mean she can't be my friend in the future. It's just very, very difficult in the meantime. One of the complications is that due to recent events (strangely, not the recent events that we are currently discussing but other, more disturbing, recent events which shall not be discussed here ever ever) most of the team is very uncomfortable with the husband in question, and they are none too pleased that first friend is still having a relationshsip with husband in question. It makes things awkward, to say the least.
Anyway, we have a bout this weekend and the angst about everything was really getting to me [see: stress-related neck injury] and it got so bad that my lovely girlfriend sent out secret e-mails to members of my team asking them to help me out and take care of me. How sweet! It's true, though, I needed some serious TLC. After one particularly stressful meeting (followed up by a truly aggressive and unnecessary phone call in which first friend's drunk roommate bitched out yours truly, which was very much NOT appreciated) I broke down in tears and just bawled about everything. I think that was when lovely girlfriend called in the cavalry, and I think it wasn't a minute too soon.
Boo. This is the first year I've had to "pay" taxes (i.e. send 'em money with my tax return instead of getting a refund). Not cool. I had already changed my witholding for next year because I wanted to get a slightly bigger refund (nothing major, just $10/pay period extra) but that may not work out as planned, and I still can't figure out why this year is different from last year. Shoot.
It's just ... not as cool to have to send them extra money. I have never minded paying taxes before because it's all "invisible" and taken out of my paycheck and then I always get money back at the end.
Ah, well. Good thing I procrastinated, right? I don't want to give them money any sooner than absolutely necessary.
Oh, hey: if you want to see the rollergirls in action, we have a bout this weekend at WaMu Theater at Qwest Events Center. Wanna come? April 21st, bout starts at 5:30 p.m. (doors an hour earlier).
You can buy tickets here:
Bird on a Wire Espresso 3509 SW Henderson St West Seattle, WA 98126
Fast Girl Skates 252 NE 45th St Seattle, WA 98105
Rain City Video - Market Street 719 NW Market St Seattle, WA 98107
Rain City Video - Sunset Hill 6412 32nd Ave NW Seattle, WA 98107
WaMu Theater Box Office at Qwest Field 800 Occidental Ave Hours: Monday - Friday 10:00 am - 5:00 pm Saturdays 10:00 am - 2:00 pm
