so I bought new shoes.
My old ones were falling apart, sad to say. They had an ancient Chinese charm on them and everything! But, alas, the Chinese are not as reliable as they once were. I think it has something to do with their sweat shops.
Anyway, I got new shoes, and they are gangster! They make me feel on the edge! Like hanging out with my home-ies, and shupe-dogging the town and listening to p-diddy and mos def all day. Which is weird, because I don't know how to shupe-dogg.
Gangsters use a lot of hyphons.
Anyway, The shoes are too big, so I considered stuffing the toes with something. But everything gangster-ish that came to mind wouldn't work. Dollar bills are a waste, crack is illegal, and brass knuckles are just uncomfortable. I guess I'll have to live with the clunking.
So I was studying my way cool, super bad foot wear and noticed that the gold filgeree (not real gold, sadly) was actually a collage of pictures. There were chains and thorn vines, lip outlines, skulls, some sort of gangster sign and then--
There it was!
Jammed between a star and the sillouette of an ice cream cone was...
An apple with a smily face in the center.
It was like these shoes had been made for me. It was like the guy at the shoe-making factory looked at this particular pair of shoes and said to himself,
"This pair is different!" And then crossing himself, as all good catholic shoemakers do, said "I should mark it. Something brilliant! something meaningful!"
And then the light bulb above his head goes off and he bends down to add little golden apples with bright shining smilies in their center.
Thank you my dear catholic shoemaker!
I have the best shoes ever!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Let the sun shine in...
I am on a hair kick!
My lustrous, long, lurid locks are unlikely to look lanky or limp for long!
heh heh...ahem.
I have decided that I am going to be a hair fanatic. I'm going to have the kind of hair that causes car accidents and makes people run into things because they are staring at my beautiful hair. That kind of hair. So I looked up what to do to have outrageously stellar hair.
I slather my hair in oil every week.
Now I know what you're thinking, but it's not as bad as all that. It smells like coconuts, and it can't be so bad if it smells like that.
I only wash it twice a week.
It may sound gross, but it's actually really good for my hair. It makes it more manageable. Besides, I bathe!
And I only hair dry once a month
And I put in silk dr--
So, none of these things are particularly interesting, but I haven't blogged for a while, and my life is so boring, I had to talk about something. I am always up for talking about my hair. so there it is. I promise I'll try to do something that'll earn the interest of this, my blog. Sorry for the lame post. Next time I'll just make something up.
Meanwhile, I would love some suggestions on what to blog about. Pleeeeease?
My lustrous, long, lurid locks are unlikely to look lanky or limp for long!
heh heh...ahem.
I have decided that I am going to be a hair fanatic. I'm going to have the kind of hair that causes car accidents and makes people run into things because they are staring at my beautiful hair. That kind of hair. So I looked up what to do to have outrageously stellar hair.
I slather my hair in oil every week.
Now I know what you're thinking, but it's not as bad as all that. It smells like coconuts, and it can't be so bad if it smells like that.
I only wash it twice a week.
It may sound gross, but it's actually really good for my hair. It makes it more manageable. Besides, I bathe!
And I only hair dry once a month
And I put in silk dr--
So, none of these things are particularly interesting, but I haven't blogged for a while, and my life is so boring, I had to talk about something. I am always up for talking about my hair. so there it is. I promise I'll try to do something that'll earn the interest of this, my blog. Sorry for the lame post. Next time I'll just make something up.
Meanwhile, I would love some suggestions on what to blog about. Pleeeeease?
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Only you can prevent stupidity.
They made me safety team leader at work.
First of all, BAD IDEA!!!
Second, I am probably the worst person in a emergency. But they gave me the badge, and told me that all I needed to do was attend the meetings and make sure everyone wore their safety glasses.
Not true, as it turns out.
Our Safety commander is a Nazi. Granted, a nice one.
We have been through three drills in the past two weeks. And apparently, there are more to come. I don't really mind, only I wish I knew exactly what I was supposed to be doing. About a week ago, I heard my name on the intercom, and, puzzled, I met up with six or seven other people who are on the safety team. Our safety commandant...er...commander then marched us into a meeting room and stood us against the wall.
I felt like I was on the losing side of a firing squad.
In front of me was a sleek mahogany table lined with ties. Well, people wearing them, but it's the ties that scared me the most. I felt I was being stared down by the people running the place, and I all the sudden wished I hadn't worn my charlie the unicorn shirt.
Then they started to ask us questions. And they weren't questions they were asking, they were questions they were demanding. What was the weirdest to me, was that everyone else knew just what to say. I had only been a safety person for three months at that point, and had only gone over the basics. When it came my turn, I was scared stiff.
"When you radio in, who do you contact?!!!"
"Er...the person on the other end of the conversation."
Well, it made sense at the time. I didn't know the persons name. The kindly Nazi jumped to my rescue.
"That's right, and your supervisor."
"Yeah."
I then shrank back in shame. When it came time for my turn again, I was determined to get it right.
"How do you sweep the building?!!!"
It was irresistible.
"With a broom!"
...so it turns out the people who run the mill don't have a sense of humor.
Either way, the meeting that ensued afterward consisted of our leader telling us (me) that we needed more practice on our procedure.
"After all," says he, "We never know then there will be an earthquake or a fire, or even a terrorist bomb!"
Because, as we all know, terrorists sit in their lairs (or whatever it is terrorists plot in) and discuss what to terrorize next.
"We could bomb a air base!"
"No! we could bomb the White House!"
"No!! I have it! We could bomb *dramatic pause* A CLOTHING MILL!! BWAHAHAHA!!"
(Because that's how terrorists laugh.)
"Yes! That'll bring this country to it's knees!!"
Anyway, if there actually does turn out to be a terror threat on my sewing mill, I'll let you know. meanwhile, I encourage you all to watch this movie
http://www.hulu.com/watch/55744/the-office-a-lesson-on-fire
There's um...some swearing, but it's kinda funny.
It reminds me of a later meeting, when the boss said he thought it would be fun to have a guy with a gun come in, as a simulation.
That got a great reception.
First of all, BAD IDEA!!!
Second, I am probably the worst person in a emergency. But they gave me the badge, and told me that all I needed to do was attend the meetings and make sure everyone wore their safety glasses.
Not true, as it turns out.
Our Safety commander is a Nazi. Granted, a nice one.
We have been through three drills in the past two weeks. And apparently, there are more to come. I don't really mind, only I wish I knew exactly what I was supposed to be doing. About a week ago, I heard my name on the intercom, and, puzzled, I met up with six or seven other people who are on the safety team. Our safety commandant...er...commander then marched us into a meeting room and stood us against the wall.
I felt like I was on the losing side of a firing squad.
In front of me was a sleek mahogany table lined with ties. Well, people wearing them, but it's the ties that scared me the most. I felt I was being stared down by the people running the place, and I all the sudden wished I hadn't worn my charlie the unicorn shirt.
Then they started to ask us questions. And they weren't questions they were asking, they were questions they were demanding. What was the weirdest to me, was that everyone else knew just what to say. I had only been a safety person for three months at that point, and had only gone over the basics. When it came my turn, I was scared stiff.
"When you radio in, who do you contact?!!!"
"Er...the person on the other end of the conversation."
Well, it made sense at the time. I didn't know the persons name. The kindly Nazi jumped to my rescue.
"That's right, and your supervisor."
"Yeah."
I then shrank back in shame. When it came time for my turn again, I was determined to get it right.
"How do you sweep the building?!!!"
It was irresistible.
"With a broom!"
...so it turns out the people who run the mill don't have a sense of humor.
Either way, the meeting that ensued afterward consisted of our leader telling us (me) that we needed more practice on our procedure.
"After all," says he, "We never know then there will be an earthquake or a fire, or even a terrorist bomb!"
Because, as we all know, terrorists sit in their lairs (or whatever it is terrorists plot in) and discuss what to terrorize next.
"We could bomb a air base!"
"No! we could bomb the White House!"
"No!! I have it! We could bomb *dramatic pause* A CLOTHING MILL!! BWAHAHAHA!!"
(Because that's how terrorists laugh.)
"Yes! That'll bring this country to it's knees!!"
Anyway, if there actually does turn out to be a terror threat on my sewing mill, I'll let you know. meanwhile, I encourage you all to watch this movie
http://www.hulu.com/watch/55744/the-office-a-lesson-on-fire
There's um...some swearing, but it's kinda funny.
It reminds me of a later meeting, when the boss said he thought it would be fun to have a guy with a gun come in, as a simulation.
That got a great reception.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Oh Pook!
I bought a ring!
I had always been meaning to, and now I finally have. It is a very special ring, and I had to order it over the internet. And it came today.
I remember seeing the package in the mailbox.
I all but ran home. I rushed inside to put down all the useless bills and ads and such and started to open my package wildly. My sister came in and watched.
Finally it was open.
I pulled out my ring.
"Oh, it's..uh...nice" My sister said with a face that said 'That is the ugliest ring I've ever seen.'
And so it was, but I still loved it.
I got on a sly face and said, "Oh, but there's more."
And then the sky turned orange
And I got a giant zigzag all around me (the kind batman gets whenever he punches someone)
And really cool music started to play
And I opened the jewel on my ring!!!!!
"..."said my sister.
"Hah! You're speechless, I can see you are!"
"They have rings like that at the Shakespearean Festival." She said, and walked away.
I felt my zigzag deflate.
I had spent hours on the internet trying to find my magic ring.
And it was really ugly.
And the jewel that opened was tiny.
And when was I going to use it? I couldn't just put poison in it and assassinate someone for the fun of it. That's just rude!
That's when I started to reflect on the great muti purposes for my ring!
If I happened to be in a street fight, and I punched someone with it on, it would hurt that person really bad. Dang! It was just like I had bought a brass knuckle! (singular)
And if all else fails, I could use it as a really cool napkin ring!
all in all, I think I made a wise purchase, because just in case someone ever needed poisoning, The option was open!
meh.
I had always been meaning to, and now I finally have. It is a very special ring, and I had to order it over the internet. And it came today.
I remember seeing the package in the mailbox.
I all but ran home. I rushed inside to put down all the useless bills and ads and such and started to open my package wildly. My sister came in and watched.
Finally it was open.
I pulled out my ring.
"Oh, it's..uh...nice" My sister said with a face that said 'That is the ugliest ring I've ever seen.'
And so it was, but I still loved it.
I got on a sly face and said, "Oh, but there's more."
And then the sky turned orange
And I got a giant zigzag all around me (the kind batman gets whenever he punches someone)
And really cool music started to play
And I opened the jewel on my ring!!!!!
"..."said my sister.
"Hah! You're speechless, I can see you are!"
"They have rings like that at the Shakespearean Festival." She said, and walked away.
I felt my zigzag deflate.
I had spent hours on the internet trying to find my magic ring.
And it was really ugly.
And the jewel that opened was tiny.
And when was I going to use it? I couldn't just put poison in it and assassinate someone for the fun of it. That's just rude!
That's when I started to reflect on the great muti purposes for my ring!
If I happened to be in a street fight, and I punched someone with it on, it would hurt that person really bad. Dang! It was just like I had bought a brass knuckle! (singular)
And if all else fails, I could use it as a really cool napkin ring!
all in all, I think I made a wise purchase, because just in case someone ever needed poisoning, The option was open!
meh.
Friday, May 22, 2009
I'm so cool
I was given a Kreativ Blog tag. A "golden star" if you will. I was tagged my none other than my amazing sister, Heather, whose blog not only inspires me but fills me with a overpowering and nearly indecent urge to dance. weird, huh? She is an amazing artist and I recommend you all take a look at her blog, it's amazing. She is the most Talented artist I know (yes, with a capital T) granted, I don't know very many artists...Anyway, thank you Heather. I started this blog only two months ago, and I'm already getting awards for it. This means I'm on track for winning the Nobel Peace Prize by next year.
Tradition states that I need to give seven things that make me happy, and tag seven people. Here goes.
1-Stories. Tales. Scenes. Anything that tells you something. I love to listen to peoples stories, I love to tell stories, I love to read stories, especially to someone. I'm not a purist when it comes to this. I will get my stries any way I can. Books, friends, movies, teleivision, theatre, it doesn't matter.
2-Hats. I love hats. I collect them. Or, I used to. There was something really great about dressing up in a hat and pretending you were a viking, or a pirate, or mexican who sparatically threw down their hat and did the sombrero dance they learned in third grade.
3-Making people laugh. Fooling them into thinking I'm clever.
4-Weekends at home.
5-Performing. Singing, dancing, acting, whatever. As long as I'm playing a role. I can't talk in front of a group of over five unless I'm on stage. odd.
6-Ice Cream. It's like a drug.
7-Perspective.
as for the seven blogs I want to tag...
Heather of course, for her marvelous personality and great story. Rachel, who is always so funny and so intelligent. Obviously too intelligent for America. Mary and Scott Wolford who are the best, really. My Dipped in Bronze writing group, the greatest and most prestigeous in the world! and...I'm afraid my friends with blogs are limited, so I recommend the following three: Toon Club, which is always fun to look at. and Imaginism Studios. And...well, that's it, I'm pretty pathetic, but I love you all!
post script, I am by no means an artist. I just like to look at all the cool art and wish I could draw.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
There's a nun on the loose!
So I honked at someone today.
I really shouldn't have. I've never honked at someone before. I was in sort of a shock afterwords, and suddenly started being nice to all the drivers around me.
I'm an aggressive driver. I swerve around the slow cars that only go ten over the speed limit, and tailgate sometimes. I'm a good driver, but aggressive. I've never been in a accident, but I have been pulled over once.
It was a dark and stormy night. Well, it was dark in any case. I had just finished a long and tiring rehearsal of Suor Angelica and I think it was in the wee hours of the morning when they finally let us go. I was so tired and upset, I didn't even change out of my costume before leaving. Ah! the joys of a lax costume mistress. I played a nun. Everyone in the opera was a nun. I had my wimple and my rosary beads and my habit. I was decked out. And driving carelessly.
I was on the home stretch. Just one more length of road and I was home! And then I saw it. Flashing lights. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach as I realized that my day was about to get worse. I pulled over and waited as he did whatever it is cops do just to make you nervous. I think I even absent-mindedly played with my rosary beads as I waited, and it wasn't until the police car door opened that I realized I was still dressed as a nun. I remember watching him walk up to my car, and thinking
"He wouldn't dare give a nun a ticket!"
He looked at me.
I looked at him.
"er..." He started.
"Was I going too fast?" I asked stoically.
"Er...a little. You forgot to make a complete stop on a red light while turning right."
I entertained the idea of swearing, which, while out of character for me, was really out of character for the nun. Instead, I thought that this must be a really slow night for him, fixed him with my most nunish look and said,
"oops."
He then proceeded to go about his cop duities, asking for my licence and such, and finally as he bid me a good night, I looked right into his eyes, did the sign of the cross and murmured,
"Bless you, my child."
I then rolled up my window and drove off.
When I got home, I didn't tell anyone. I was too distraught over having gotten a ticket. But now I think it's funny. I don't know why I didn't just giggle and explain why I was dressed that way. I should have. I guess something inside of me couldn't pass up the opprotunity. And now that nice officer has a story to tell his buddies on the force over dounuts.
Let it never be said that I was never spoken of in hushed, reverent tones.
I hope that officer fears for his immortal soul.
I really shouldn't have. I've never honked at someone before. I was in sort of a shock afterwords, and suddenly started being nice to all the drivers around me.
I'm an aggressive driver. I swerve around the slow cars that only go ten over the speed limit, and tailgate sometimes. I'm a good driver, but aggressive. I've never been in a accident, but I have been pulled over once.
It was a dark and stormy night. Well, it was dark in any case. I had just finished a long and tiring rehearsal of Suor Angelica and I think it was in the wee hours of the morning when they finally let us go. I was so tired and upset, I didn't even change out of my costume before leaving. Ah! the joys of a lax costume mistress. I played a nun. Everyone in the opera was a nun. I had my wimple and my rosary beads and my habit. I was decked out. And driving carelessly.
I was on the home stretch. Just one more length of road and I was home! And then I saw it. Flashing lights. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach as I realized that my day was about to get worse. I pulled over and waited as he did whatever it is cops do just to make you nervous. I think I even absent-mindedly played with my rosary beads as I waited, and it wasn't until the police car door opened that I realized I was still dressed as a nun. I remember watching him walk up to my car, and thinking
"He wouldn't dare give a nun a ticket!"
He looked at me.
I looked at him.
"er..." He started.
"Was I going too fast?" I asked stoically.
"Er...a little. You forgot to make a complete stop on a red light while turning right."
I entertained the idea of swearing, which, while out of character for me, was really out of character for the nun. Instead, I thought that this must be a really slow night for him, fixed him with my most nunish look and said,
"oops."
He then proceeded to go about his cop duities, asking for my licence and such, and finally as he bid me a good night, I looked right into his eyes, did the sign of the cross and murmured,
"Bless you, my child."
I then rolled up my window and drove off.
When I got home, I didn't tell anyone. I was too distraught over having gotten a ticket. But now I think it's funny. I don't know why I didn't just giggle and explain why I was dressed that way. I should have. I guess something inside of me couldn't pass up the opprotunity. And now that nice officer has a story to tell his buddies on the force over dounuts.
Let it never be said that I was never spoken of in hushed, reverent tones.
I hope that officer fears for his immortal soul.
Monday, May 4, 2009
I am smrt!
So I think I must just have a stupid face.
About two years ago, My sister and I went into an RC Willey to look at Mp3 players. There were salesmen everywhere. I'm not a huge fan of salesmen. I'm kinda a sucker, and they always convince me to buy whatever useless item their selling.
"It toasts bread, scrambles eggs, and ties your shoes for you in the morning. As long as you get up between the hours of 3 and 5. Sunlight bothers it, you see. But it comes with a free sticker!"
"WOW! I'll get it!"
I still have the free sticker.
Anyway, while we were in RC Willey, a kindly old gentleman approached us and asked, very kindly, if he could help.
"I'm looking for an Mp3 player or, you know, some sort of music playing device." I giggled, somewhat nervous talking to a salesman, lest he pull out the garlic press/potato peeler they had been trying to get off the shelves for weeks because some smart guy remembered that they don't sell kitchen utensils. He smiled amiably and bent down to see me eye to eye.
"Well now, device is a big word, isn't it?"
...
I stood there for a minute before my brain jumped at the chance.
"No, patronizing is a big word."
I was so proud of myself for being clever. Not that the line was original, it was a Terry Pratchett line from Wee Free Men. But I had used it right. And I didn't even offend the old man, he just sort of gave a kind smile and led me to the devices of which I had inquired.
I had forgotten about that particular incident until today.
We had a meeting at work where they gathered us all, sat us down and told us very sternly the dangers of the new pandemic swine flu. Swine flu sounds like it should be a musical. Anyway, they demonstrated three times, three times! how to apply hand sanitizer because 'it's very important to make sure that our hands are clean.' no kidding.
My friends and I made jokes throughout the rest of the day, stopping at every sanitizer post they had placed at every door, and looking at it stupidly saying
"Gee, I wonder how we use this?"
They weren't particularly funny jokes, but they had to be made. Kinda like the witty 'What's up?' antidote of "That way!"
I guess I just dislike being talked down to.
About two years ago, My sister and I went into an RC Willey to look at Mp3 players. There were salesmen everywhere. I'm not a huge fan of salesmen. I'm kinda a sucker, and they always convince me to buy whatever useless item their selling.
"It toasts bread, scrambles eggs, and ties your shoes for you in the morning. As long as you get up between the hours of 3 and 5. Sunlight bothers it, you see. But it comes with a free sticker!"
"WOW! I'll get it!"
I still have the free sticker.
Anyway, while we were in RC Willey, a kindly old gentleman approached us and asked, very kindly, if he could help.
"I'm looking for an Mp3 player or, you know, some sort of music playing device." I giggled, somewhat nervous talking to a salesman, lest he pull out the garlic press/potato peeler they had been trying to get off the shelves for weeks because some smart guy remembered that they don't sell kitchen utensils. He smiled amiably and bent down to see me eye to eye.
"Well now, device is a big word, isn't it?"
...
I stood there for a minute before my brain jumped at the chance.
"No, patronizing is a big word."
I was so proud of myself for being clever. Not that the line was original, it was a Terry Pratchett line from Wee Free Men. But I had used it right. And I didn't even offend the old man, he just sort of gave a kind smile and led me to the devices of which I had inquired.
I had forgotten about that particular incident until today.
We had a meeting at work where they gathered us all, sat us down and told us very sternly the dangers of the new pandemic swine flu. Swine flu sounds like it should be a musical. Anyway, they demonstrated three times, three times! how to apply hand sanitizer because 'it's very important to make sure that our hands are clean.' no kidding.
My friends and I made jokes throughout the rest of the day, stopping at every sanitizer post they had placed at every door, and looking at it stupidly saying
"Gee, I wonder how we use this?"
They weren't particularly funny jokes, but they had to be made. Kinda like the witty 'What's up?' antidote of "That way!"
I guess I just dislike being talked down to.
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