You’d think the retort, “you’ve told me why you’re angry with fictional Chris; now why don’t you tell me why you’re angry with real Chris,” would work wonders. Well, maybe you wouldn’t so think. But I did. Until it failed. Now I’m left with the distinct impression that particular retort is unworkable. Now I’m left to wonder why.
June 30, 2009
Apparently The Mark has an intoxicating beverage named “Lolita.” Apparently it contains vodka. I have no idea what else defines this particular cocktail. But I’d like to think, in a post-Humbert Humbert world, that it also has a muddled maraschino, for texture and flavor and, well, appropriateness.
June 28, 2009
Even walking nearly all the way, a half marathon’s thirteen plus miles is a long way. Took me nearly three hours, twenty minutes to complete. [See for yourself by searching for bib number 30640.]
When attempting to walk a half marathon on pavement, don’t even try to run. You’ll only fuck up your knee and make the last seven miles or so painful.
When someone tries to hand you a cup of something that’s got electrolytes or otherwise promises to give you what you (or plants) crave, ignore him, and wait for someone to hand you water. In this case, the cup was filled with the unfortunately named Cytomax, which sounds more appropriately attached to a rat poison, a chlamydia treatment, or an artificial sweetener than a sports drink. But given how many cups of water I needed to wash that awful flavor out of my mouth, it might as well have contained Gatorade, Brawndo, or Diet A&W.
Reel mowers actually work pretty well.
Bullnose corners on walls create a perplexing problem when it comes to repainting adjacent rooms different colors. With standard ninety degree angles, it’s pretty easy to know where to stop painting one color and start painting the next color. With the bullnose edges, though, you need to pick an arbitrary point and tape. And worry about what to do with the space in between. Another color? A blending pattern? One color wrapping and butting up against the other? Or meeting halfway? Crazy midway molding?
Part of me is digging on getting rebates from my electric and gas provider and my water and sewer provider for buying a new washer and dryer (so long as it’s appropriately water and energy efficient, which almost all new washer and dryer sets are). Part of me is wondering if this is a good use of our tax dollars.
I’m not enthusiastic about appliance salespersons making incontinence-related jokes, even if it was by way of making a legitimate point. My lack of enthusiasm surprised the hell out of me, because I’d always thought I’d welcome urine gags in damned near any context.
Taking Chip’s advice suddenly became a lot less attractive after learning I’d have to take off a half day from work waiting for the gentleman from Comcast.
June 23, 2009
For some reason, the copy of Dan Friel’s Sunburn that resides on my hard drive omits the space between the Parts & Labor frontman’s fore- and surnames. That is, the artist is labeled as “Danfriel.” Evidence that I am perhaps the only person who has made this labeling mistake can be found here.
The thing is, I actually prefer the no-space nomenclature. Given the type of music involved, Danfriel seems infinitely better suited than Dan Friel. Even if that is his real name.
Which got me to wondering whether more two-named individuals releasing solo records ought to embrace the one-name alternative. Wouldn’t you be excited to see an acid jazz release from Brianburton? Or a freestyle-over-harp record from Seandaley? Or how about Eleanorfriedberger‘s mope folk double album? Think of the possibilities.
June 21, 2009
“Russian borrowings from English include…vokzal (‘station’). [This] is a corruption of Vauxhall, the name of an area in south London once famous for its pleasure gardens; a Russian delegation of the 1840s stopped there and took this word, displayed on a sign, to be the generic name for a station.”
From Henry Hitchings’ The Secret Life of Words: How English Became English, which I’ve just started. I adore the English language, and am fascinated by anecdotes along these lines. Although the bulk of the book, as you might surmise from the title, concerns movement of words in the other direction than this example. Misconceptions of this sort really are amusing, aren’t they?
A and L drove down from Seattle to attend last night’s drag show, which was pretty damned crowded. Indeed, if I didn’t know just how many people the Capitol can carry if necessary, I would have thought by the length of the line that we might be in trouble, having arrived later than expected.
Good show overall. A few highlights were the Legend of Lesborella skit, Alix and Kristyn’s version of “I’m Not Crying,” Tasha’s “Ego,” and Alayna’s fairytale. But I do believe the highlight of the evening for me was the bizarre and impassioned version of “The Greatest Love of All” featuring an odd exchange between Kimya Dawson’s alter ego Jamoca Brown and, well, a child-sized doll.
Worst part of the show? Realizing that apparently my agreeing to contribute “something” to the intermission bake sale would not be particularly supplemented with the contributions of others. Eek. Which meant my slightly singed lemon bars and not-particularly-sweet-but-dubbed-breakfast-ready maple oatmeal bread, combined with a carrot cake, represented the sole offerings. Also, I got the impression that perhaps I, as a board member, was supposed to be helping more with the whole raffle thing. Alas.
Also problematic? The preachiness was veiled somewhat by being spouted by the likes of the “Fairly Gay Mother” and “Pride Piper” characters. But it was a little too strong and a little too regularly to encourage the as-yet-unconverted masses attending to come around to the light. And the bad poetry came to the fore a shade too often. The religion bashing was a touch broad brushed as well.
Still, an overall entertaining show, and well worth the price of admission. Perhaps next year I’ll make more a concerted effort to get involved more particularly.
[Aside: D started tending to her kombucha colony named Eric Basmati several weeks ago. Tending consists of feeding him black tea and sugar. Yesterday, we sampled his excretions. To great effect. Well, to be quite honest, the beverage is sort of gross. D, A, and L thought so too. But we'll keep drinking it. Because it seems a shame to pour it out. And Eric Basmati is part of the family now.]
June 17, 2009
I’m announcing it here, if for no other reason than to convince me to follow through.
D and I are buying a house. Closing next week. Picking up the keys on the 26th. Lovely house. Pictures are available. But pictures don’t do it justice.
So we’re having a housewarming party, to show off the new pad. We should be set up enough by the end of July. So that’s what we’re doing. We’re having a party. On the 25th of July. Saturday. Featuring the three Bs: barbeque, beer, and Bazooka Joe bubblegum. So for all of you who actually know me–which I would estimate represents about half my reader base–give me a call, and I’ll fill you in on the details of the particulars.
[Date for housewarming party changed since originally posted.]
Andrea and I had bandied around the idea of doing the “Elephant Love Medley” from Moulin Rouge at this year’s annual Stonewall Youth drag show (a welcome addition to the weekend of Oly Pride). Alas, due to a lack of motivation and, well, an assortment of other things going on, we completely neglected to practice, prepare, or otherwise participate. Instead, I’m simply planning on attending, and throwing an item into the bake sale pile. But y’all should come. Even without my fabulous legs in fabulous heels skeptically strutting to fabulous love songs, I’m pretty sure it’ll be a good time.
June 13, 2009
Attended The Evergreen State College graduation yesterday afternoon to see Hudson graduate. Eerie small town experience, actually. Because I ended up seeing fives of people I knew personally, and dozens of people I knew by sight, at the graduation, and even more en route to, from, and to the after party. Also discovered connections I never knew existed (e.g. a Stonewall staff board member and now-former TESC student, Emily Pieper, apparently is the daughter of a good friend of another friend with whom I attended the graduation, Janet Staiger). Which makes me wonder what the fuck I’m doing buying a house. I like Olympia a lot. But I’ve only been here for a couple of years, and already I can’t go through a day without bumping into friends, acquaintances, and former clients. What ever happened to anonymity?
June 7, 2009
For the past few weeks, a chicken–see below–has been hanging out in our neighborhood. When it comes into our yard, it tends to hide in the bushes on the west side of the house, occasionally popping out to snatch some bird seed that has fallen to the ground from the feeder. It also, apparently, is tough enough to take on some of the local outdoor cats, because we found tufts of cat hair in our front yard after hearing an appalling noise, and shortly after seeing the chicken. She’s a beautiful bird, which makes me think she belongs to someone. But after seeing her roaming so often, I’m starting to wonder if the folks that lived across the alley for the past couple of years moved and released their caged birds recently. If so, it would be the first urban feral chicken I’ve come across. But hopefully not the last.