Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Part one of an epic tale

The Fifth Dentist Pretended to Cave --part 1

Ashley asked if I wanted to do something stupid. I said “Hell yes.”

She said it was once of those conventions with comic books, sci-fi stuff, and computer geeks salivating over superhero action figures, complete with celebrity guests and a bad party afterwards.

I once again said, “Hell yes.”

A month later, we got dumped by a bus from the train station to the city center in Milton Keynes, England, about an hour train-ride north of our study abroad home in London looking for Collectormainia. The city center wasn’t so much a city center as it was three malls that looked like they were sculpted out of the aftermath of a cement truck explosion. We knew the name of the room where Collectormainia was, but nothing else. Completely lost, we wondered into one mall with a rock climbing wall and an arcade, but no one dressed like a Lord of the Rings character. Then into a second, which was massive enough to eat the average American mall and still have room to snack on a movie theater. We wondered aimlessly and looked at a kitchen ware store, until we spotted our compass: a guy under the age of sixteen wearing a Star Trek uniform.

Just like four out of five dentists recommend Trident, four out of five members of my family like Star Trek.

I’m the fifth dentist.

I hate Star Trek more than any other TV show. I’d sooner sit down to a marathon of Tara Reid’s travel show, Taradise, than watch more than five minutes of Captain Whoever negotiating with ferengis or klingons or whatever alien species. I hate myself any time I accidentally exhibit any knowledge about the show. But thanks to involuntary exposure and osmosis, I know stuff about Star Trek. My parents and sisters watched an episode of Star Trek almost daily, thanks to syndication. It's the same reason why I know the all of the words to the several Backstreet Boys albums and the Eurythmics Greatest Hits.

I didn’t see any Star Wars movie until I was going into my senior year of college. Ok, that’s a partial lie; I saw part of Return of the Jedi on TV when I was in elementary school. But my parents made me go to bed. Luckily, the rest of modern pop culture is so riddled with Star Wars references that I had the Cliffs Notes to all three movies just by existing.

Video games and I never hit it off. When my family got an original Nintendo, I couldn’t get past the second level on Mario 1. The double Goomba at the beginning killed me every single time. My sisters stopped letting me play, and I’m not even the youngest.

I played Dungeons and Dragons once. I went home with my boyfriend freshman year of college for spring break, and it’s what his friends were doing one night. I tried to avoid it by baking cookies, but the game was starting just as I walked into the room with a finished plate of cookies. I sincerely tried to be interested in the game, but I wound up taking a nap instead. I don’t have the kind of patience to sit through: “Ok you’re an ogre with 6.4 killing power and you’re with this dwarf who’s riding a motorcycle and who has a staff and you have to get into this room in a building, are you going to turn the knob clockwise or counter clockwise? Roll the dice to find out.”

I hate outer space in general too. The vastness and size really freak me out, and not to mention I think it’s incredibly boring. On family camping trips, my sisters would always bring their star charts and telescopes. I’d always lie in the grass and play dot-to-dot with the stars, making up my own constellations named for what my star creations actually looked like. I named a triangle configuration, “Isosceles.” There were some chair shaped stars that I named, “Lazy Boy.”

But despite my hatred of most things sci-fi, I loved the movie Trekkies, the documentary about hardcore Star Trek fans.

Actors in bad jumpsuits did nothing for me, but a dentist trading his scrubs for a bad jumpsuit? Sign me up. That made me laugh in the same as bumper stickers that say, “Happiness is being a church secretary.” Going to the comic book convention and the bad party afterwards meant I’d get to see Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, and assorted other Sci-Fi and fantasy fans fighting for autographs by day and drinking by night, wearing costumes the whole time.

Ashley said she was oddly attracted to one of the Hobbits from the Lord of the Rings movies, so she was planning to wait for his autograph. None of the celebrity guests had me shaking in my boots with anticipation. I was mildly excited for the Weasley twins from the Harry Potter movies because they’re my favorite characters from the books. The joke “two of them, two of us” never got old, either, just like saying, "That's what she said."

My limited Star Trek knowledge includes two of my dad’s favorite characters, Data and Warf, and they were both of them were on the guest roster. Troy was there too, and my dad takes most opportunities to point out how much she whines. So being the good daughter I am, I was going to stand in line and get autographs and pictures with his little Star Trek friends and surprise him for Christmas.

Maintaining a discreet stalker distance, Ashley and I followed the Star Trek kid to Carrie Fisher, magic cards and people dressed like Darth Maul. We thought we were ready for Collectormainia. We both had our cameras. I had a notebook and a tape recorder so I could practice being a freelance journalist. We said “bring on the trading cards! Die cast metal spaceships! The lunch boxes! Mint-condition ninja turtle happy meal toys! The people who have passionate opinions of which was the best Stargate season!”

But Collectormainia was a sensory overload like we never expected. There were people dressed up like storm troopers, girls wearing shirts that said “Viggo Mortesen Fan Inside,” three girls with bunny ears and tails, eight year old boys slipping their autographed pictures of mini-me into frames, a girl in a Little Bo Peep dress, wookies, trekkies, grown women with pokemon backpacks, a teenage boy wearing a penguin puppet, all wading through a sea of vendors who were peddling She-ra action figures, Spiderman bobble head dolls, Simpson’s animation cells, Tarentino posters, Lord of the rings Replica swords, comic books and trading cards, and fans waiting in the lines for the autographs surrounded the merchandise section. Ashley and I were the most attractive people in the place for the simple fact that we would never even consider wearing a fanny pack.** Since it was Saturday and there’s nothing else in Milton Keynes, everyone in town was apparently at the mall and decided to pop over to the exhibition space after hitting the kitchen ware store to see what was going down. So on top of people in fairy wings, we were dodging families, preteens, and people pushing the fashionable baby strollers of the day, which happened to be a throwback to the Victorian era, i.e. little rolling coffins. The traffic pattern made me want a pair hipwadders, and I probably would’ve been able to pass it off as a costume.

We fought our way through the masses to find our celebrity autograph conquests of the day…only to find out autographs cost twenty pounds each, which was forty dollars with the exchange rate. Ashley and I numbed our disappointment with cookies, and stepped outside to the open air market portion of the mall, where I stared at lawn ornaments to recenter. (And only in Europe would you find a meat truck in the center of a shopping mall).

Instead of talking to her hobbit, Ashley and I made like middle school girls and casually walked by his spot, hoping to catch a glimpse. As much as my dad loved Star Trek, he appreciated frugalness more. So I opted for the cheap bastard version of his Christmas present: stand on the benches and zoom my camera as far as possible and take blurry pictures of Data, Warf, and Troy before the nerds in “Crew” T-shirts told me to keep moving.

**I’d like to note this was before any sort of designer fanny packs made a comeback, but I retain my statement despite any newfound chic. I can’t get behind a bag I carried to the roller rink in elementary school. I would carry a shirt tales lunch box as a purse before I strapped another fanny pack around my waist.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

I Break Everything including annelids

My old house had a huge backyard, a medium front yard, and two smaller side yards. In one of the side yards, there was an abandoned flower bed that was then just a flat hunk of dirt in the middle of grass. I turned it into a worm house. I built them a kitchen, with grape hyacinth juice boxes, a swimming pool out of blue paper, a living room, and everything an annelid could need. I dug in the ground next to the house to find some worms to live in it. One of my residents managed to tie itself in a knot. I tried to untie him, and accidentally ripped it in half instead. I put the two ends together, but it would stick together and it was still in a knot. I chucked both pieces off to the side. A few years later in school, I felt relieved when I learned that broken worms could regenerate themselves.

Friday, July 31, 2009

Tonight on 16 and pregnant...

Most hilariously inappropriate Halloween costumes for an expectant teenage couple: Maci as an electrical outlet and Ryan as a power cord.

Guidelines for biking in New York

I've recently fallen in love...with the road bike my roommate is letting me borrow. It's built for speed, doesn't make me curse when riding uphill, and is easy to carry up and down stairs. I will always have a special place in my heart for my Free Spirit three-speed cruiser and the time we shared, but its gears and brakes no longer suit my needs. My new love for the road bike has brought me to my favorite time of year: riding a bike as my main transportation. Admittedly, New York is not the easiest city to ride in, but it's easy if you follow four main guidelines:

1. Wear a helmet
Looking like Toad from Super Mario Brothers isn't cool, but it's way cooler than cracking your skull open or getting a spine injury.

2. Ride with traffic
If cars and pedestrians know where you're coming from, they are less likely to hit you.

3. Assume everyone else is going to screw up
This goes for drivers, cabbies, pedestrians, puppies, other bikers...swerve to avoid hitting them, because they won't. Oh, and watch out for car doors.

4. Watch out for potholes
There are some big enough to swallow a small child. They will send you flying into the sidewalk or mess up your tires/wheels.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

It's that kind of store

In the fourth grade, I asked for a gift certificate to a store called Craft Warehouse on my Christmas list. I typed up my list in Word, because it had better penmanship and spelling abilities. I trusted everything that spell check told me. I didn't even read the suggested words. It was a computer; I assumed that it was smarter than me. I kept clicking "change" when spelling errors popped up, including for the word "warehouse." My family and I still call that store "Craft Whorehouse."

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Take a vote

Which is more terrifying?

Weapon one:


Weapon two:

Light saber added by Joe.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

A printer/scanner/copier should do all three right?

How I feel about the my computer not recognizing my printer, but not the scanner:

I can't wait to see what the pictorial representation of my mood will be while I'm on the phone with tech support tomorrow!

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Shameless promotion

My friend Joe's animated short "Star Wars Retold" is a finalist in the Atom Films Star Wars Fan Movie Challenge. He needs your vote! Today's the last day! So, take five minutes and vote for STAR WARS RETOLD.

Oh, and watch it if you haven't. It's pretty awesome.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Long lost comics drawn on notebook paper

Here are comic strips I drew in the fifth and sixth grades. One of them even has a complete punchline!

Friday, May 29, 2009

Putting my brain back together

Birthdays are fun to drag out; moving is not. I had to get a storage unit when I moved last month, and then I was a hobo for about a week. I got everything out of storage yesterday, so I am now surrounded with chipboard furniture and wine boxes full of my books, fabric, knick knacks, and who knows what else.

Step 1: get belongings in order. step 2: rebuild brain. step 3: build a fort with the empty boxes.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Everybody look at me, because I'm sailing on a boat

Guest column! K10 learns things

K10 learns things so you can too!

Today's subject: Temp jobs!

K10 says...

Sometimes you can get paid by a 501c3 to stab the belly's of piñatas.

Easiest piñata belly to stab successfully: The bull
Most difficult piñata belly to stab successfully: The horse

No unicorns were harmed in the stabbing of piñatas.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Miss California

The news cast on my taxi screen the other night said, "Will the runner up be ready to take Carrie Prejean's place if she is forced to give up the title of Miss California?" I hope this other girl is ready to step up to what Miss USA runner ups usually do: fade into obscurity. But with all the Miss California-gay marriage-free boob job-racy-photos hype, does anyone remember who is actually the current Miss USA?

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Wholesome Wear

I've had the same swim suit for about four years, and I've been considering replacing it or buying a second. After watching tonight's 18 Kids and Counting..., I've decided I can't live without the stylish number from Wholesome Wear that Anna wore on her honeymoon with Joshua. I thought I'd never a swimsuit that was both Spandex and a throw back to Puritan fashion, but the Wholesome Wear outer garment converts from swim-ready shorts to a land-appropriate dress with quick and easy snaps! (I also never knew how to make soap from previously existing soap before the Duggars). Apparently, only the favorite daughters in giant families like the Duggars get to go swimming; each Wholesome Wear is $80.

I understand that Anna doesn't want a swimsuit that makes her look like a common whore, but she found a suit that leaves more to the imagination than the Burqini.

Monday, May 4, 2009

Roundworms ruin everything

A teenager is blind in one eye and an infant brain damaged after contracting raccoon roundworm. They're both from Brooklyn, so I'm going to have to give up stacking raccoon feces into piles and quit using feces as sprinkles on cupcakes.

Babies are prone to eating things they're not supposed to, but I haven't seen a raccoon in the two years I've lived here. Where did this baby find the scat? The teenager apparently eating feces is like the ten year old who got roofied from eating Aquadots; they were both old enough to know what's edible and what's not.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Knives out, records down

Jokes turn into efficiency.

I always used a putty knife to take down my 45s, but my friends are smarter than me.

Yeah, I've been slacking on posts due to finishing up work and now getting ready to be out of my apartment by early on Friday. Have I mentioned that I'm not a minimalist? And this fills me with rage every time I move? I've gotten better, but I come from a long line of packrats...besides, I like my stuff.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Guest column! K10 learns things

K10 learns things so you can too!

Today's subject: Baby Gates!

K10 says...
Did you know that at Fred Meyer baby gates are considered "Apparel" and that only stores that sell clothes have baby gates? We went looking for one today, because we wanted to have the front door open without worrying about kitties going in or out. But no! Apparel!

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Prepare for a cheesy pageant production number

Not going to lie, I used to watch beauty pageants all the time. Grandma Sis would tape them for me, and I specifically remember watching the Miss Teen USA 1990 on her Beta VCR over and over again. Tonight, I had to watch the Miss USA pageant at work. The format hasn't changed much since the 90s, but the hair is smaller. Also, they make a point to note several times that the crown is made from synthetic "conflict free" diamonds. Translation: really high quality rhinestones. The crown is kind of like fake fur: an old status symbol updated with contemporary collective morals.

Miss Arizona gave a really great answer about health care in which she did not say the word "health care." Instead, she just talked about having integrity, no matter if you're on the left or right. Excellent stock answer, Miss Arizona, but we still don't know if you're for or against universal health care in the United States. I may disagree with Miss California believing that marriage should only be for heterosexual couples, but at least she voiced her concrete opinion on the issue. Even though she completed contradicted herself saying that she thought it was great that people in America could chose between same sex marriage and opposite sex marriage, but then said "In my country, in my family, I believe marriage should between a man and a woman." (Also, Perez Hilton didn't ask what she thought, he asked if other states should follow Vermont with legalizing it. She could've just said, "It should be left up to each state.")

And now, the video I will never get tired of watching, the greatest moment in all of pageant history...Miss South Carolina from Miss Teen USA 2007 answering the final, and most crucial, question of the night:

Friday, April 17, 2009

Abstinence gave me herpes

I will never have a better titled essay than this one.


Here's another essay I wrote for Buzzsaw Haircut while I was in college. Click the image for the readable sized image.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

My roots

Click for the full size readable version!

Monday, April 13, 2009

Ode to Vinnie's on Bedford

I go for the pizza, and stay to giggle at the garbage can.

I've never gone through a blue period

After the nation had forgotten the cancer scares sparked by red dye number four and other colorings, red M&Ms returned to the pack of plain M&Ms. I remember thinking that it was the perfect new color; a bit brighter than the other colors without being obnoxious. Then in pre-internet days, the Mars company opened a phone hot line so people could vote for a new color to the pack in 1995. I was gunning for purple, but blue won. M&Ms were not Skittles; they did not need to be neon. To me, the new blue M&M stood out from the rest of the earth tones and fall colors to the point of clashing. Eventually, the tan M&M was eradicated from the regular pack, and I'm still a little sad about it.

It's not that I actively dislike the color blue. I've always felt completely indifferent to the color, with one exception: my favorite Crayola crayon color has always Cerulean, a shade of blue that cars are painted on "The Price is Right." I've recently learned that Crayola seems to have followed M&Ms' lead; their 24 pack of crayons has four shades of blue and one brown. Sure, there are a lot of oranges, some decent purples, and reds and red violets, but none of them helped when I was coloring in a picture of Pioneer Square. My lack of brown options meant that I couldn't duplicate the square's redish-tan bricks. Normally, I'd have no problem coloring the bricks purple or something. But there was already a pink squid fighting a green Portlandia in the middle of the square, and I wanted a balance of absurdism with reality.

I bought the 24 pack on a whim a few months ago, and I've started coloring in books when I need to recenter and using crayons when I pretend like I can draw. I like the waxy feeling and look, and being able to control the intensity of the color. I bought a 64 pack, so I'd have a wider variety of earth tones. I recognized a few shades, like "Purple Mountain's Majesty," "Tickle Me Pink," "Macaroni and Cheese," and "Timberwolf" as winners of the naming contest Crayola had when I was in third grade. But then, the new shades only came in the Big Box of 96. But I was still more excited about the collection of tan, burnt sienna, raw sienna, etc. As I was working on a crudely drawn comic strip (that I may or may not post sometime), I found a color called "Cadet blue" that is the exact color of my eyes. I thought I was content with my crayon collection, until K10 got me a 150 pack that came in a plastic container and included glitter and metallic shades...I'm now officially slightly intimidated by my color options and may never have to use either of my built in sharpeners.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Judging people by their pets

Jesse and Josh were shooting safari animals, and I stood close by scanning the few people at the Levee on a Wednesday night. I accidentally made eye contact with a short guy with curly black hair, wearing an unbuttoned collared shirt over his T shirt. He smiled, shot me the "hey baby" eyes and walked up to me, and asked "Is one of these guys your husband?" I said no. "Is one of them your boyfriend?" I shook my head no. He asked, "Do you have a boyfriend?" I asked, "Is that really your best line?"

He told me that he liked to ask about boyfriends before talking to girls to avoid getting beaten up. Jesse and Josh were done playing Buck Hunter and Jesse agreed that starting with the boyfriend question was ok to do sometimes. I told them both that the best way to talk to girls was just starting a conversation, that opening with the boyfriend question makes girls feel gross. It's not that I'm offended by being hit on; I just don't like the feeling that any conversation attempt is made with the sole intent of trying to nail me.

Then our new friend said "I have a cobra," and pulled up pictures of his pet cobra on his iphone, talking about how he used to have a mamba and fed his cobra fresh freeze dried mice. I said that was an oxymoron. He told us about his the special gloves he wore to play with his cobra, and how he punched a guy with brass knuckles who tried to break in and steal his cobra. I had no interest in the guy to start with. But if I'm gonna give a snake owner my number, I'd want a guy who is sensible enough to have a boa or something that kills with strangulation and not a snake equipped with venomous fangs. More importantly, I'm also only interested in guys who are smart enough to realize that saying "I have a cobra" is a far better way to start conversation than asking a girl about her dating status.

(Note: I've been searching through venomous snake discussion boards to try and see if cobras are legal to own as pets in New York City...research is so far inconclusive.)

Friday, April 10, 2009

East end boys and west end girls...

PETA asked the Pet Shop Boys to change their name. Are you really that bored, PETA? Sure, "Rescue Shelter Boys" does have better moral connotations, but rescue shelters don't have crickets to feed to pet lizards.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Open source sewing!

Not to sound like a commercial, but this site is pretty awesome. One of my favorite skirt patterns ever was made by Burda, and they've officially kicked McCalls' and Simplicity's asses. Burda Style is a site with downloadable patterns (priced free to cheap), sewing tips, a blog, photos, etc. You can share your projects with someone besides the old ladies at the fabric store who question why you'd do something so crazy as buy remnants right before closing. 

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Postcards I never sent...

To the guy who started to proposition me at at First Thursday,

Just because a girl is friendly with you (like if you approach the table where she’s selling melted plastic creations), doesn’t mean she’s wants to make out with you. I’m sorry you’ve been forced to be celibate for six of your eight years of marriage because of your wife’s injury, and I can see why you’d want to end this streak. But you have a specific need that talking to random girls at gallery openings is very unlikely to fulfill, especially since you’ve been off the casual dating market for a while. Portland is a friendly city; if you initiate conversation with someone, they’re more than likely going to talk to you. But you can’t jump from “hi” to “you look nice” to “I haven’t had sex in six years.” Also, kissing a girl’s hand when introduced isn’t charming…it’s archaic and creepy. Most 20-somethings aren’t in a place in life where they want to be a married man’s surrogate vagina.You should post or respond to a personal ad on craigslist or the in the Mercury. Surely there’s a woman in the Portland-metro area in the same situation, looking for someone to get it on with because her husband can’t.

I break everything...the continuing ballad of face stitches

During a scuffle over the hockey puck in gym class, one my classmates high sticked right into my chin. I clutched my face and screamed before I started crying. My teacher calmly told everyone to sit on attendance order and then walked me up to the nurse. She gave me a bag of ice while they called my mom. I thought I'd just gotten a fat lip, but then I looked in the mirror and saw the quarter of an inch dent right beneath my lower lip. When I went back to school with seven stitches in my face the next day, I reminded my friends that I was more like a real hockey player than they could ever dream of being.

Monday, April 6, 2009

Saftey First!

The theme of mine and Kenny's joint party was "Safety First!"

I sewed the majority of my dress on the day of the party. We decorated with caution tape that Set found on a construction site. Sam put the helmet on me while I stood on a wooden box hanging the tape. Then a fifteen song play list created...


Now, the west coast and Texas visitors are gone and my 2.5 week long fake vacation is over. Back to work! And I'm making up for not posting anything for almost a week with multiple entries in a day. Also, I've decided it's time to start doing things like sewing dresses in a night again.

Excellent pick-up lines

The day after I got my driver's license, I got reached another formative moment of my teenage years: getting blatantly hit on my a sleezy older dude. I drove my dad's GTI to the little locksmith shop in the parking lot of the Fred Meyer in Gresham to make copies of the car keys. As I was parking, a guy in a large pick up pulled around back, and excitedly waved at me, and looked like he was saying, "Hey! Hi!" from behind his wheel. I half-waved, and shot him a look of confusion. Then I saw him walk into the back of the locksmith shop and thought, "Oh great."

When I walked around to the front door, he ran over to open it for me. I looked at him and asked if they were closing, and he said no, and walked next to me for the ten feet to the counter. He was at least ten years older than me. His shirt was wider than it was long, he had facial stubble, and used some kind of hair gel. I stood up at the counter, waiting for this guy's buddy to get off the phone and make my keys. The guy tapped his hands on the counter and nodded his head, and said, "So uh, gettin' keys made?"

From watching TV and movies and reading books, I had been expecting a way better pick up or attempt at conversation. I was so taken aback by his lack of creativity that I couldn't think of anything to say except, "Yeah. Just got my license yesterday."
"So you must be about 16 then?" he said.
"Yeah," I said.
"Well, let me tell you. You look a whole lot older than 16."
"GET OFF THE PHONE LOCKSMITH GUY," I yelled in my head.

When he got off the phone, the locksmith guy asked what kind of cars I needed keys for. I said "Volkswagon and Toyota," and the guy said, "Yeah, she's got a Volkswagon," as if he was my translator. As my keys were cut, locksmith guy asked his buddy if he was still dating some girl. And the guy said, "Nope, I'm not dating anyone. I'm completely single."

The girl who was behind the counter shook her head and laughed and said, "You guys are stupid." Then she looked at me, pointing to the guy and said, "He came walking in saying 'major hottie just pulled up in back.'" I said nothing, and just ran away with my new keys.

Williamsburg is scenic

Impromptu solo dance party.

Vicarious pet owning at the dog park.

Who'd want a fruit prince?

Q: Where do toys that don't make it to Salvo go?
A: A lot on N1 and Bedford.

Learn how to pluralize. I'm judging you, flea market.

I know I like a fruity aftertaste while swigging booze on the street.

New slang

Baby bird: What you say to a person when you want to try a bite of what they're eating. I wasn't hungry enough for a full piece of pizza, so I just looked at Bailey and said "Baby bird, baby bird" until she let me steal a bite.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

More odd combos

Hello Lion.
Hello other Lion.
Why are you sad?
I want to eat a salad, but then I would have to take a break from scratching off lottery tickets and playing video poker.
Don't be sad, Lion, there are restaurants that cater to your desires:

Friday, March 27, 2009

What a girl wants...

...is clearly a puffer fish and soy sauce.

(And happiness can only be multiplied with the addition of an onion, trial size museli and cooking oil).

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Speaking of animal genitalia...

I have nothing else to say.

(the raccoon is one of many fine pieces of taxidermy in Evolution on Spring Street in Soho).

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

The running of the bull and a quarter century

My great aunt asked why so many people took pictures posing with the bull's backside, where the testicles are just as detailed as the face. I shrugged, when I was secretly resisting the urge to take a photo of the balls myself. The answer to my aunt's question is that deep down, everyone is a twelve-year-old boy.

When I turned twelve, I decided to have a retro party. My mom stapled hideous fabric up in the striped room. I wore Bailey's tye-dyed tee shirt that was three sizes too big for either of us. My friends showed up in polyester and we ate red vines out of a tub from Costco. I turn 25 tomorrow. I'm not going to say that I'm old, because in the grand scheme of everything I'm quite young. But I do feel weird and anxious; it's a substantial chunk of time. Mackenzie asked me if I knew what I wanted. I had no answer because I never know what I want for my birthday or Christmas anymore. My parents got me a new camera, which turned out to be exactly what I wanted. It has "food" and "museum" modes. So far, food mode just gives things a yellow tint.

Right now, I'm trying to finish up a batch of quizzes for work, so I can actually relax and have fun tomorrow. Bailey gets here on Saturday, and while there are many reason I wish she were here now, I really wish she were here to help me with fake answers about the plant books I have right now. I can think of tons of things that salamanders don't do, but my knowledge base of plants has dwindled since my days of teaching at Outdoor School. I meant to finish the quizzes this weekend. Instead, I finished my taxes on Saturday afternoon and starting vomiting for the next twelve hours. Today, I made an attempt to eat something besides English muffins and Gatorade. So far, it's working. But having no appetite makes picking a restaurant to go for your birthday dinner rather difficult. (I'm also really distracted by my extreme desire to go buy a pair of pants that aren't falling apart or off of me. Maybe jeans are something I should buy more than once every year and a half).

Tonight, I'll wear my gold boots. Tomorrow night, most likely my gold flapper dress. Next week, I'm going to buy safety goggles to make people wear at the joint birthday party.

Here's a list of how I spent the last milestone birthdays:
16--Great Grandpa Britton's memorial service.
18--running around Portland to places like the smutty comic book store, a headshop, to buy lottery tickets...and didn't get carded at all.
21--We Vs. the Shark played Ithaca. My friends and I bonded with them over bottles of cheap champange.

Monday, March 23, 2009

No looking down

I can suck up my fear of heights when I have to, like when my relatives from Texas want to go to the 86th floor of the Empire State Building. It was a great fluffy cloud picture day!

Here's Williamsburg:

And here's Greepoint (I wouldn't have recognized it without the large silver things):