happiness is...

Things that have made me happy recently.
In no particular order...

- The latest episode of Dollhouse. It's been a slow build, and part of me worries that Whedon is writing with the thought that DH will have the same short-lived fate as Firefly, but this week's show came out swinging. Hixx, you should really give this another shot. When Helo and Eliza D finally meet, it's on like MFing Donkey Kong.

- That the outro song for Dollhouse this week was "Sweet Dream" by Greg Laswell. I can't get enough of this album. In a way, I'm really happy I'm not in a relationship, because it has a very sweet romantic vibe to it...and I'm kinda glad that it won't have that brand on it 10 years from now, where I connect it to some guy I was schtupping.

- The name Ulysses Brambor. I invented this name today. I'm pretty sure I need to write a scene about Ulysses...or the people who've crossed paths with him.

- Vegas in the fall with M (fingers crossed) and S. Just the idea of this puts a huge smile on my face! But, even if it's just me and S, that would be delightful in and of itself. I'd get some solo time to crash out poolside while he's at his seminars and we'd hit some tasty meals and some even tastier table action. I was going to cash in my giant "coin jar" and throw it in my savings, but I think that I'll just keep adding to it until the trip, and use it for my spending money for the tables instead. Come here little coins!!

- Dusting off the creative part of my brain. I'm going to be directing a show in May-June (info forthcoming), and working on some pre-production schtuff with the producers has been delightful. I've been working out rehearsal agendas (what I want to accomplish in each) and thinking about format and technical ideas. Basically, my job is just to point the ship towards it's ultimate destination, the cast has to man the boat, stay on course and keep it afloat. While battling zombies.

- Olive crashing out on the bed last night. I don't know how many of you live alone and have a dog. (I'm not sure it's the same experience as a cat, so I'm keeping it specific.) Next month it will be 10 years since I ran into Olive on a farm down in TN. There is no doubt that Olive loves YOU, but, she's quite fickle when it comes to me. While she enjoys napping near me on weekend afternoons, she's gotten into the habit of crashing solo at night - either on the floor of my room or in the living room. She was gone by the time I woke up, but it was nice to fall asleep with the beast curled up next to me, once again.

Part of my brain tells me that she has stopped bunking with me regularly as a method to "wean" me. That way, one day, when she's gone on to that great bacon filled resort in the sky, it will be easier to get used to sleeping without her. (how hard was that sentence to type? HARD.)

The other part of my brain thinks she's just sick of my snoring.


- Meals with friends. Last week I had one dinner with J, another dinner with J, her sister A and a couple other ladies (S and R) and a spectacular lunch with JS (no relation to J.) Now, as much as I need to pinch some pennies, those meals were worth every cent (especially the one where J picked up the tab - thanks, yo!) Sometimes, I forget that friends (and alcohol) are gifts we give ourselves. And renewed friendships are like getting a round on the house. Holla.

- Youtube. My mom is a proud turtle owner. I said it.

She found one on the side of Interstate 57 on a trip to visit me in college...over 20 years ago. I often wonder, if he outlives her - would I adopt it, or find a nice home for it? I doubt after two decades of being hand fed, he'd survive in the wild. Then again, I know squat about turtles and their ability to adapt.

Anyway, maybe you've seen that video where the turtle is humping a shoe.
And it's making that noise? And you can see its turtle junk?

So...yeah.
A turtle humping a shoe....made me think about my mom.

So...I...called her. In 20 years, I've heard lots of stories about Saluki (the turtle), but I never heard about it humping stuff. I had to know.

As blunt as I normally am, I have to say, describing that video to my mom was hysterically awkward. Long story short, she had never witnessed this kind of behavior from her pet...but was beyond curious and had me send her the link.

I sent my mom a link to a turtle humping a shoe.

And all is right with the world.

perception

My brain says, "This is what happy sounds like."




I dare you to karaoke along...wherever you are right NOW.


S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!

Gonna keep on dancin' to the rock and roll
On Saturday night, Saturday night
Dancin' to the rhythm in our heart and soul
On Saturday Night, Saturday night

I I I I I just can't wait
I I I I got a date

At the good ole rock and roll road show, I gotta go
Saturday Night, Saturday Night
Gonna rock it up, roll it up, do it all, have a ball,
Saturday Night, Saturday Night

It's just a Saturday Night
It's just a Saturday Night
It's just a Saturday Night

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!

Gonna dance with my baby till the night is thru
On Saturday Night, Saturday Night
Tell her all the little things I'm gonna do
On Saturday night, Saturday Night

I I I I love her so
I I I I'm gonna let her know

At the good ole rock and roll road show, I gotta go
Saturday Night, Saturday Night
Gonna rock it up, roll it up, do it all, have a ball,
Saturday Night, Saturday Night

SATURDAY NIGHT
SATURDAY NIGHT
SATURDAY NIGHT
SATURDAY NIGHT

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!

SATURDAY NIGHT
SATURDAY NIGHT
SATURDAY NIGHT
SATURDAY NIGHT...

when worlds collide

Witness. A perfect storm of comedy.



"These are the "no go" areas: drugs, child abuse, the Holocaust."

"N. Do you know what Necrophilia is?"


Give it up to Elmo for holding his own with Gervais.

major

First, the meme: 1. List three of your major artistic influences and three unexpected ones

It's kind of a hell when you have writer's block. Or is it writers' block? Not sure. Either way, "tomorrow" took a few more days than I originally planned.


My three major influences?

1) History. I know that's kind of all encompassing in a way, but looking over my work and life, it's the history of places and people and even things that seems to spur me on. It's reading about other lives and views and both building and reflecting and homaging those stories that excite me.

I am a big believer that unless we learn from the past, we are doomed to repeat the same mistakes. That we have to connect with the humanity of the folks who created the world we live in as much as the folks who live across the street...or across the globe.


Here's an example - The Tiffany Dome in the Chicago Cultural Center.



It's the largest of it's kind in the world. It's the kind of thing I could ponder for hours.

Imagining when the Cultural Center was first built - it was Chicago's original public library. All the people who came into the library from 1897, 1924, 1958, to borrow a book, or just get out of the rain.

What the laborers were like who created that astounding piece of art.
All the folks, who stared up at it over the years...like indoor stargazers.

Two of my favorite shows have always been Postmortem and Defending Your Life. The casts were both amazing to work with, but it was the chance to create a moment out of time or in another time...it's always been the most fun I've ever had.

So, yeah. History.
Be it small and personal or large and global...History eggs my brain on.


2) Studs Terkel/Errol Morris. I'm not sure if it's wrong to have these guys share a tier, but in my mind, they've had equal influence. Much like a branch off "History" - both these gents, in their own genres, have put spotlights on both the everyday folk and the celebrity. And really, aside from a publicist, there is no difference between folks and celebs.

Every person has a story, sometimes you have to really be patience, but sooner or later, they will tell it to you. It matters not the depth or breadth of the tale. All stories have the potential to connect the teller to the listener. And that connection? It makes the world go round. Or makes it go bumpy. But it makes it go.


3) Louis Armstrong. I don't tend to play those "what would your desert island Top 10" games. But if I crashed and was stuck on an island and I could only have one record (although I would wish for the whole catalogue) of one artist, it would be Louis Armstrong.

As a kid, when I said my prayers, I would silently ask God to make Louis Armstrong my guardian angel. He just always seemed so full of wisdom and joy and made amazing music.

Whenever I get really stuck...be it writing, or in my head, or in life? I listen to Louis. He is my reset button. He is who I celebrate with. He is who I cook or clean or screw around on the computer to...he fits every mood, every occasion. And at all times, his music gives me a peaceful mind.


Three unexpected artistic influences, which I will not elaborate on: The Quiet Man, Roderick Jaynes and Annie Duke.

muddy gestures

Last night, as I left my office and walked out to the parking lot, I noticed in the growing dark that my car seemed...tilty.

Hello, Flat Tire At The End Of A Long Day.

I used to have this awesome (and insanely affordable) AAA-like coverage through my cel provider...but they were losing money on it, so they pulled the plug. Since then, I've been AAA-free. Which meant, I'd be changing that spare thank you, very much.

Lucky for me, a co-worker was also working a bit late. I figured it would be easier to deal with the flat in the burning light of day (versus the cold and dark of night), so I finagled a ride to the Cumberland stop on the Blue Line. A couple stops down is Jefferson Park, where I caught the bus and was home by 7:40pm.


My 70 year old father would not hear of my plans to change the spare. Even though I have changed multiple spares in my day. By myself, thank you. He drove over to my office around 11am this morning and met me in the lot.

I honestly think it took longer to empty out my trunk to get to the spare...than the actual "changing" of the spare. Mi Dios. My pack-rat traits are astonishing to behold. Perhaps later, when I "repack" the trunk, I'll make a list of everything that was in there. Oof. It was like my trunk threw an ambush intervention to expose my addiction to the world. Or at least, my father. Erg.

Well, 70 year old Pop quickly realised that the equation of: his knees + hard asphalt x cranking the jack/loosening lug nuts = not gunna happen.

Which is how I ended up covered in muck while trying to position the jack. (Yes. My bad for not bringing something to change into...against my better judgement, I know, I know, I know.)

Bingo Bango, Spare is on the Car.

I'll have my tire fixed after work (nail/rivet was the culprit.)


When everything was put away and as I prepared to head back into work, my father told me he had brought a few things to give me.

Chalk it up to that parent DNA that you must send your child out into the world with, at the very least, a bag lunch. I received:

3 containers of Frozen Soup (homemade!)
1 head of iceberg lettuce
2 cans of Barq's Diet Root Beer
1/2 a loaf of French Bread

...and a small bunch of white daisies.


"I figured you could use 'em."



I know there are a lot of folks out there right now who have much bigger woes on their plate - unemployeed, stressed, worried about their kids, how to pay for college, how to pay the rent...and so on.

In the big scheme of things, a flat isn't that big a deal.
It's the teeniest of fleas in the ointment.

I guess, I just want to say, that if you're reading this...and you get "muddy" today? I hope somebody turns around and hands you "daisies."

It's usually the smallest of gestures that give us the resolve to keep on keepin' on.

Word.

the look

Maybe you know Chuck.

He is the canine muse to Beth H, creater of dooce.
He's kinda "internet famous" for being able to balance things on his head.

This is Chuck's counterpart, Coco.

I'm always envious of the shots Beth can get of these two.

While photogenic, Olive isn't really into posing for the cameras. Most shots I have of her are of furry out-of-focus dog ass.

Instead, I live vicarious thru Beth's awesome pooch photography.

I haven't been over to the site in a couple months...but it's been a longish day, so I thought I'd head over and get a dose to get me through the afternoon.

Normally, this is the sort of sight one might behold.

Which makes me feel better that Olive is Queen Destructor at my abode.

But this is today's post.

The most HAWESOME shot ever.

Go ahead. Click it.

You need to see this in a large format.

And yes, Chuck's male and Coco's female.

Which just adds to the delightfulness...

But, really? It's that look.

That look on Chuck's face.

Priceless.

Enjoy the rest of your day, my friends.

It's all downhill from here.

whatever happened to hi-fi?

Back in the year 2008, J tagged me to blog about artistic influences.

I've started that response at least three times and left each post to fester. But this morning, my ipod shuffle is screaming at me to at least respond in part.

First, the meme: 1. List three of your major artistic influences and three unexpected ones, and 2. If you post something in the comments here, I will guess three of your artistic influences.

Before my reveal, here were J's guesses for me: Dorothy Parker, Buzzcocks, Jean Shepherd, Samuel L. Jackson.

Man. J gives me credit for being way cooler than I really am.

While my humor has always been fairly dark, wise-cracky and based on an ongoing game of one-upmanship since puberty (perhaps even earlier), I really never saw myself as smart enough to keep up with the likes of the Algonquin Round Table.

Even in my heady 20's when I thought my snarky retorts were my best and brightest feature. Still, that's a swank compliment...so I'll take it!

J was much closer to the mark on the Buzzcocks!

I was very much in love with anything British in junior high and high school. I wore out my dubbed cassette copy of The English Beat ( I Just Can't Stop) on one side and The Police (Synchronicity) on the other. I have no doubt that I would have followed Elvis Costello or Joe Jackson to the ends of the earth.

The Buzzcocks pop/punk was not only kick ass to listen to, but filled the requirement to at least sound risque to the point that I hid my cassette of Love Bites at home, for fear my father would make me get rid of it.

I lived in a house where "stinker" was the worst allowable word you could use. Even a quiet uttering of "crap" would get you grounded. I didn't want to find out what punishable fate owning a tape with the word "cock" emblazoned on it might deliver.

I have to admit Jean Shepard threw me for a loop. No idea who that was. I'm not sure if J meant Jean Shepard (DJ/writer/narrator) or Jean Shepard (country music singer/songwriter.)
Either way...I had to look them both up. Oof.

As for Samuel Jackson...I do believe that he inspired me to use a certain word way more than I used to in both my personal and artistic life. And, I think you motherfuckers know which motherfucking word I'm motherfucking talking about.


Tomorrow, I'll post three major artistic influences.


While I have no idea where my duped cassette copy of the Buzzcocks may have landed after 20 some years, after J mentioned them, I had an old gift certificate that I traded in for Singles Going Steady.

For now, I just wanted to post the song that finally spurred me to action. I can't access youtube at the moment, but I'll try to add a link later.


I wish you could see you the huge grin that listening to this song is giving me.
1) It's got a rockin' good punk sound.
2) Remembering how this song fueled my ideas of teen rebellion..is cracking me up.
3) The delivery of "oh shit" is so...impotently agnsty? Past the anger, just plain annoyed acceptance of the truth.

Oh Shit
Oh shit I thought you and I were friends
Oh shit I guess this is where our love ends
Oh shit I thought things were goin' well
But it hasn't turned out so swell
Has it?
Oh shit
Oh shit

Pride comes before a fall
Oh shit and once you lose one you've lost them all
Oh shit I guess that this time's the time
And it seem you're no longer mine
Don't it?
Oh shit
Oh shit

Oh shit I wish I'd known before now
Oh shit that you were such a cow
Oh shit I wouldn't've wasted my time
Oh shit chasin' somethin' which wasn't mine
Face it
You're shit
You're shit

Oh shit I wish I'd known before now
Oh shit that you were such a fuckin' cow
Oh shit I wouldn't've wasted my time
Oh shit chasin' somethin' which could never be mine
Admit
You're shit
You're shit
You're shit
Admit
Admit
You're shit
You're shit
You're shit
You're shit
You're shit

For the record, I don't think anyone is "shit."
I'm just rocking out to my teenage soundtrack.

I hope you can embrace the awesomeness the Buzzcocks have bestowed upon us all.

bad example

Why do we even call it "Monday" anymore?
Why not call it "Cliche-day" and be done with it.

Ex: I hate my new haircut.

Dude. I just typo-ed "hairbut" and why did I change it?
It really is a hairbutt. With all the grossness implied.


Ex: I emailed my little sis to get her new (since last summer) address.

She calls me back to enlist my help trying to get my nephew to stop being disrespectful and talking back. (He turned 13 this weekend.) I said I would talk to him, but also encouraged her to 1) Call that Boys Town hotline and see if they had any parenting tips/advice/behavior to nip this mouthy thing in the bud, and 2) encourage her to make amends with our father so we can all provide a united/family front on the issue of being respectful.

Yeah. I'm not sure which pissed her off more, but I am, once again, the idiot sister who has no children, so why did she even call me as I obviously am not coming to the table with solutions.


Ex: Leaving early to have car appraised.

Have to haul over to Elmhurst to have my insurance company tell me that they aren't giving me any money towards fixing my junker of a car...even though the other driver's at fault. Because we are BOTH ON THE SAME INSURANCE. So, they don't want to pay either of us.

I know I drive a 12-year old beater...but he HIT my CAR. I don't expect it to be fixed to a pristine glow...but I'm going to waste the rest of my afternoon with them telling me that I'm going to have to come up with my deductible to have it fixed. My stomach is already churning.

Speaking of which...


Ex: To get back on a healthy eating routine, I started eating cereal in the mornings.

Unfortunately, instead of the regular shredded wheat, I forgot that I picked up the Shredded Wheat n' Bran. I've been eating it for a few days now and, man, today was the day when the "Bran" decided to step up to the plate.

Two words: Colon Blow.
My insides must be as clean and pink as a newborn's.



In other news...I'm not proud to admit to being a reality tv junkie. But, it's true. The Amazing Race, America's Next Top Mode (next month!), Project Runway, Survivor, the occasionally Dancing With the Stars and assorted others.

But the only one I ever really write or communicate with others about is American Idol.

For the past few years, I've been part of an email list...this year, we kicked it up to a blog (where I'm pretty sure I'll be the main contributing writer.)

If you follow AI, enjoy some snark and would like to unburden yourself amongst your peers, check us out at idol words.

Oof. Time to take the car in....wish me luck.

penny for you thoughts

Just thinking about Abe today.





Growing up in the "Land of Lincoln," our 16th president is omnipresent. As a kid, you're told the about log cabins and wrestling as you examine your copper pennies.

Later you learn the about the stateman, the speaker and Great Emancipator. You learn to recite the Gettysberg address and maybe part of his debates with Douglas.

Later still, you learn that maybe all your history books have built him into this myth of a man and that, like all of us, Lincoln was more complex, more foibled, more human than you considered.

But, man. That guy could write.

So here's to all your imperfections, Mr. Lincoln.
You kept this union from breaking, you put us on a course to embrace a new future.

We definitely owe you a beer.
Happy Birthday, yo.

a stop along the way

Fly away little bird
Any place in this open mouthed world
Begs to be fed like a bed that beckons you, but you won't rest

Sunday night Pete treated me to some sushi...man, I love sushi!

We went to Tampopo and I really recommend it (for sushi.) Mmmm, Tuna! The fish was very fresh and generously sliced. The maki was tasty, too. They make one roll that has sweet potato tempura in the middle, and the outer layer of the maki is wrapped in avocado. I never would have put those flavors or textures together, but hell if it doesn't work!

We caught up a bit while we ate and after downloading the economy, the stimulus package, folks we know that have been laid off (or have made it thru them) and Obama's first 15 days, the subject ended up on much lighter fare - American Idol.

Specifically, if I'd be starting up with my Idol "rants."

Every one's got a need to go
Most of us stick with our row to hoe
But not you, you're the black crow
With a straight line, and no time

For the past couple of years, I've been emailing a recap of my perceptions and opinions of the Idol performances to a small group of folks who follow Seabreeze & Co.

"His voice just doesn't fit this song and if he was tring to exude some kind of sexy beast attitude? It came off as more a half-assed drunken hobbit singing karoake at Bilbo's going away party."

"He made some serious stoner contorted faces during that song. I suppose one man's "intensity" is another man's "bong hit.""

"WTF was that whole crossing the stage thing about. If you know you move like a broke-ass Teddy Ruxpin, DON'T HIGHLIGHT IT BY WALKING ACROSS STAGE MID-SONG."

It's all been just a bit of snarky fun with folks that - many of them being friends of friends - I barely know or only have conversed with online during "Idol season."

Most folks just read my Idol missives, but one, Sandy, (a former co-worker of Pete's) would respond back weekly and with gusto. She'd email me back, letting me know if she agreed or disagreed with my comments - and would always encourage me to keep writing.

For the birds of prey who wreck your nest
Twice your size steal your best
They set you on this course of your collision

Lively and funny, Sandy is one of those people who live on your periphery that you figure you'd meet sooner or later at some backyard bbq or bar outing.


Pete told me Sandy passed away last week.


It took me a while to register that info.
My brain kept trying to hear it as, "She got laid off."
She got laid off. She got laid off. She got laid off.

I am a stop along your way
I am the words you'll never say
I crossed the great beyond of fear
I opened my eyes and saw us there, what a view
You went there too

It's strange. I never met this woman, our only connection was snarky retorts about a tv show. I barely knew any facts about her life except where she worked and her favorite Abba song.

Fly away little bird
Find the song in you that no one's heard
Strengthen your wings as you sing your solo flight
Through this short life

It feels silly to say about someone I've never seen, but, I know I'll miss her. I felt a small, but solid affinity to her and had been looking forward to our annual Idol repartee, which was quickly approaching.

Such a small, silly thing to share.
Such an odd connection to feel.

Every one's got a deep regret
We try to ground ourselves to forget
But your race to the end is neck and neck
You love them, you love them not

The birds of prey who wreck your nest,
Twice your size steal your best
They set you on this course of your collision

But, she's stuck in my brain this week. This friend/stranger.

I threw some CDs sitting around on the Ipod over the weekend...and this Indigo Girls song just came on.

I am a stop along your way
I am the words you'll never say
I crossed the great beyond of fear
Opened my eyes and saw us there, what a view
And you went there too

Every time I hear it, I get a lump in my throat - it's a song that is extremely motivational and beautiful. Something that you might hear in an off-loop musical. Simultaneously, it sounds like something I'd want played at my own funeral/kegger blow out.

Hearing this song, as much as we foist our our feelings and baggage onto lyrics, it just seemed so apropos regarding this lady that I barely know.

I can't tell you how many times we chatted about what song would be good to audition with, or a better choice for country week or disco night or what we'd sing at the finale if we got the chance...and if we could hold a tune.

But all along your chosen path are
Window panes and sheets of glass
That you won't see
You fly too fast
One day it will be over

I don't really do dedications...but I think, since our entire connection has been in the ether of the internets, I'd like to dedicate this song, in this moment, to Sandy.

This is the song I'd sing....if I could do it justice.

Fly away little bird
The saddest song I ever heard
Was the one that I wrote you in my heart
That never made it to the world


Seems that the Indigo Girls have yet to release an official video for this track. This Star Wars fanvid had the best sound quality (over some live concert cuts)...I'd like to think it would give Sandy a good laugh as well. Enjoy.

rock out

Tonight!

Ravin' Dave Lykins
Sylvie's Lounge
1902 W. Irving Park Rd

I'll be getting there around 9:30 or 10pm.


Yes, it's a school night.
Yes, Dave goes up 4th. Oof.
Yes, hanging out with friends, listening to Dave sing is worth the loss of sleep.

hiro worship

Lately, I've noticed that Time has been swirling around me...but it came to a slamming halt when his car hit my car this AM.

I was turning left into a parking lot, he was careening around the SUV that was giving me the high sign to cross. I hit the brakes. He hit his brakes.

Time actually held for a beat, when I knew that he would hit me.

It actually felt like everything around me froze - Hiro style - while I sighed aloud and rolled my eyes at the pending impact. The moment passed and boom.

We did all the responsible driver bidness. I pointed at him to pull into the parking lot, which was about the crabbiest thing I did. We traded insurance info. He followed me in his Civic for three blocks to file a report at the police station . While we agreed on all the details of the incident, and were very calm and civil to each other the entire time, I had a hard time looking directly at the guy.

It was an accident. A very minor fender bender. My car seems find - just another lump on my very beat-up beater. His car didn't even look scratched. I'm still having everything checked out, in case my axle breaks in a week's time.

The good news is, nobody was injured and both cars are in (fingers crossed) running order.

The bad news is, MAN. Nothing screws your brain around like a stupid fender bender.

The funny part is that after leaving the police station, I went right back to the place the impact happened. I still needed to pull into that lot and hit the ATM. Of course, 30 minutes or so later, much less traffic. Easy peasy.


The thing that keeps rolling around my brain is that moment when time froze:

When I knew the hit was coming.
When I knew we'd all survive it.
When I knew that I'd be late for work.
When I was glad I didn't have coffee.
When I thought about what the SUV driver must be thinking.
When I knew that my car insurance was paid.
When I added up all the car expenses I've had in the last 6 months.
When I thought, I should have entered the lot from Lawrence.
When I sighed.

Trippy how many things can run through your head in an instant.

As much as I think I would dig a Hiro style superpower...it would be wasted on me. I would just use it to take naps. Or attempt naps.


I look at the calendar and see that it's already February 4th.
Time traveling like a run-away locomotive.

What do I do whenever I get overwhelmed with Time?
I make a list.

I'm going to publish my list and see if it keeps me honest.


February 2009
- File Taxes (mine and Pop's)
- Collect items for Box o' Crap Giveaway* (at least 12 items)
- Organize Kitchen (this is the big one.)
- Keep/Trash ONE box of stuff in the spare room.
- See Touch...New Leaf Theater.
- See They Put Handcuffs on Flowers...Right Brain Project.
- Rally the troops for a Quizzo Night (one year and still rockin'.)
- Climb back onto the WW wagon. Lose 5 pounds
- Bathe Olive (she's never gone this long without a bath. Oof.)
- Start a writing/research schedule and stick to it. (Must have something NEW finished to submit for WC in March.)

Okay. 10 to-dos is a decent enough start.
Feel free at anytime to publicly ask/shame me about my list.
But, give me a 24-48 hour running start, please.


*Box o' Crap Giveaway will be a monthly giveaway of sundry items offered to the populace for 7 days. (Books, cds, weird garage sale-esque crap I hold dear.) If no home found, items will be donated to the thrift store/library/salvation army on the 8th day.

Please note that at no time, will the Bo'CG ever include the Monkey Pirate Nutcracker.

what do i get?

I need to get up and get dressed for our awards dinner. Fahk.

What I really want to do is climb into bed, order room service, eat in my pjs and sleep until I have to get up at the crack of dawn for what I'm sure will be a 16 hour day and then some.

I'm trying to quickly find a song on youtube to get my ass in gear.

Greg Laswell? - I still love this track...but not quite ass kicky enough.
Kanye? - Yeah. But I just don't have it in me to pull off the attitude this needs.
Beyonce? - The earworm that I can't escape.
Flight of the Conchords? - Ah...the sugar lumps.

J recently reminded me of my abiding love of the Buzzcocks. I can't find the worn out cassette tape (a copy) that I listened to on my Sony Walkman over and over back in the day...but I had a gift card to Barnes and Noble that was gathering dust, so I went and bought a Buzzcocks Greatest Hits CD...and it's like the decades just melt away.

Yeah. The Buzzcocks. That's the ticket. (Thanks, J. I owe you a drink.)

cup...cakes...

Omigod. The close-up shot on this dog?
I laughed so hard I think I may have had a small stroke. Here for link.



Of course...cupcakes have the same effect on me. Gar.

puttin' on the hits v2.0

Passing this along to the masses.

J directs the sketch comedy duo Kerpatty.
They recently performed at Chicago Sketchfest and this was how they opened their set. Enjoy.


[WORTH THE TRIP TO YOU TUBE TO WATCH IN "HIGH QUALITY"]


Hell. It made me laugh.

one small step

Back in December I made mention one of my ongoing, but semi-secret, goals in life.

I've always wanted to be one of those folks who creates a word/phrase that becomes part of our modern lexicon.

I want to create the next woot, necker's knob or "Keep on truckin'." It has been a goal of mine for many years. I shit you not.

People.

I think I'm going to need a moment.

Lady Court has arrived.

I guess it actually was published way back in December...I just hadn't checked up on it. I'd like to thank Sir Dennis (of whose court I am a member) for making the submission to Urban Dictionary.

Now that it is officially acknowledged on the internets, GO FORTH! And bring the good news to all you encounter about "Lady Court!"

My dream of hearing a stranger say it in my presence by Spring 09 is truly attainable!

exhale

I feel a sense of peace and optimism and possiblity that I haven't felt...since, well, I can't remember when. Tomorrow the work begins.

But for today, we'll just let that breath we've been holding in all the way out and take a deep breath in...and drink in the moment.

At last.

In other news...when you get a chance, do yourself a proper and check out http://www.whitehouse.gov/

Change is here, and it's the real deal, babe.

ode to a dog

Ten years ago this coming Easter, standing in the middle of a dirt farm in Tennessee, as pigs and turkeys ran around me, I made a snap decision that altered the course of my life.

I became a dog owner.

It's funny to think that there are a vast number of my friends who don't know me without Olive. It's been a decade with the beast and as much as I loathe when we play "I'm rolling the ball in a place that I'm unable to retrieve it, thusly you must get off your ass and get it for me," I do believe that this dog has brought myself and most folks who meet her - wait.

The ball is under the TV console. Faaaaahk.

Where was I?
Oh yeah, she brings the sunshine.

So, here's to her.
Twelve pounds of tenacity, neurosis and adorable.

May you live to have a creature bring as much sweetness into your world, as that ball of teeth and fluff has brought into mine.


10 Facts about Olive on her 10th birthday
1) She does not like it when you touch her paws for any reason.
2) She does not like it when you leave.
3) She does not like it when you try to hide her ball because she rolled it under the cabinet for the 11,485th time that day.
4) While her breed are known for being water dogs, she hates both the rain and baths.
5) She, like most terriers, is extremely savvy and resourceful.
6) She got into a nearly full bag of treats on Tuesday. On Wednesday, she spent the day taking a Marmaduke worthy crap (about 6 of them) in the bathroom. As I've told her more than once, "If you're going to shit in the house, shit on the linoleum." I appreciated her thought...wait.

Ball.

7) I don't know the actual day she was born. I forgot to ask the Amish folks that I procured her from. When I got her to the vet, he estimated her age and figured she was born in mid-January. Let me tell you, the Ides of March has nothing on Ides of January.
8) Favorite food? Baked Acorn Squash. Watching her gnaw out a husk is a wonder to behold.
9) While she is completely untrained, in her salad days, Olive performed or was featured in several shows in the off-loop Chicago theater scene, including:



The Armageddon Radio Hour (pic above) 2000-2004
The Armageddon Radio Hour New Year's Eve 2000-2004
The Gong Show (she was a popular judge) 2000-2005
Leopold (featured - see pic below)




The SKALD (2006) - Told the heart-wrenching saga of her 11 day adventure as a lost dog.

She also, sadly, inspired a indelible portion of J's one-woman show, The Emily Show (2002)...when one strange and awful night, Olive killed J's pet hamster, Deluxe.

This was Olive's standard program bio:

Since September of 2000, Olive has been seen in no less than
five productions in Chicago, including an open run of Armageddon Radio Hour, where she originated the role of Fineas McFineas. Olive is named after a cemetery in
the great state of Tennessee. Please don’t feed the diva.

She also holds the canine record for viewing DADA poetry. Word.

To all the folks who had Olive foisted upon them (never work with kids or animals!), not only did every single person handle it with aplomb, but with complete helpfulness for which I am ever grateful. If I never thanked you in person, please know that I have always appreciated any and all deference you showed that furball.

Finally, the only real fact you ever need to know about Olive is this,

10) Olive is a whore. In the best possible sense. She loves every one of you. If you visit, she will want to sleep on top of you and steal your blankets. Because she loves you. She'll want to play ball for 1286 hours. In a row.

She will snap your arm off like a twig if you even dare to play rope/tug with her. She wants you to rub her butt, her ears, her belly. She'll lay next to you or better still, nestle herself under your blanket.

All she wants is to be near you.
For truly, she's the best kind of whore.
The kind where your money's no good here.
The kind who makes you pancakes the morning after.
The heart of gold kind of whore.

Ok. I lied about the pancakes. But that dog is a whore from the word go.

Here's to you, my beastie.
Happy Birthday and many more, my sweet.

cups running over and over and over

Arg. This is about the 5th post I've attempted in the last week. I have so much to pontificate about, but my writing has been...well, I'm literally boring myself. Oof. Not good.

I'm sure I'll climb out of this wordless trench where hyperbole comes to die...but in the mean time....

I will share this much.

For 2009, I've decided that "I'm not a morning person" is just not cutting it anymore. So, I've embraced the life of a coffee drinker. I've spent my entire adult life avoiding the "coffee trap" and now, I'm diving in.

I'm not sure why I've been avoiding tea. It's like I feel like I'm cheating on my commitment to coffee. And somehow to drink coffee and tea seems at odds. Yeah. The caffeine is already doing a number on my reasoning and logic functions.

Basically, a part of me misses me tea.

over my shoulder

I've been avoiding doing one of those "year in reviews."

Not that a bit of evaluation can't be productive...mostly, I've been in an "offline" state of mind over the holidays and just can't seem to get back on the proverbial bicycle. Yet.

Instead, I'm stealing a meme idea from my friend notnits:

Post the first line from each month of your blog over the previous year.

I'm going a bit more indepth- because I find myself as facinating as you obviously do. I'm adding the title of the entry (note the parentheses) and linking to the full entry (hit the month), if you're curious to see where the stray thought ended up.

I'm a big believer in trying to create writing that is, what I like to call, "round." Meaning, no matter how tangental you get, you always attempt to come back around to your initial intent and finish your point/thought/idea.

I added the titles because I found them to be odd and amusing when you're just reading the first line. Also...I started the year over at vox and transitioned to blogger, so for a few months, I have two blog posts. Hell. Since I kept two going, I might as well get traction out of them.



JANUARY: (wtf) Truth be told, my karate has been in need of a good kick in the arse.

FEBRUARY: (lost) Uh....my wallet went MIA yesterday.

MARCH: (rule the world) Nephew this weekend.

APRIL.vox: (grading on a curve) This morning I was driving into work (late) and caught an interview on WLUP with Alec Greven, a 3rd grade student in Denver, who penned the homework assignment, How To Talk To Girls, which was later turned into a book sold at the school book fair.
APRIL: (elbow) I was born into a legacy of Beta over VHS.

MAY.vox: (nerd party) I think I've previously mentioned some of my friends and myself get together on Wednesday to partake in the nerd party that is Quizzo.
MAY: (file under: wtf) I love kids.

JUNE.vox: (yes) Yes, it's 2am.
JUNE: (high hard ones) Ironman ROCKS.

JULY.vox: (arts is good food) My brain is breaking that it is July 8th.
JULY: (WTF) My blood is boiling right now.

AUGUST.vox: (habits) My birthday is next week and although I am awash in riches of friends and home and really want for nothing to speak of (with the exception of winning the LOTTO that I never remember to play anyway)...I still feel a bit off about it.
AUGUST: (shooting blancs) There is very little improvisation in Metaluna.

SEPTEMBER.vox: (still) My friend wrote, "I am sort of troubled by the fact that I didn't make any mention of September 11th - the DAY, The Anniversary - in my post. "
SEPTEMBER: (humped) I just watched McCain.

OCTOBER: (rocktober) It's October 1st.

NOVEMBER: (It's on like Donkey Kong) As I ponder what my experience might be tomorrow as a novice election judge, I'm torn between utter excitement at being part of the process (and a bit of history), and the idea of a day that starts at 4am and may end 15 or 16 hours later.

DECEMBER: (by the dashboard lights) A Poem to Celebrate our First Snow in the City.


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