Sunday, June 2, 2013

I'm Baaaaaaaaaaack

With a vengence?  Probably not.  By popular demand?  Decidedly no.  From the grave?  Not that I'm aware of.

All I know is that yesterday I woke up in the best mood I've been in in practically a year, and about a week ago I took a picture I'm really proud of, and I wanted to share it.

And there are others to come.

That is all.

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

And Indy Makes Three!

Oh my god, you guys, I finally have a puppy!

Okay, so actually I don't yet... but I'm so much closer!

On Tuesday baby Puppy Indiana was born!  I don't know which one he is yet, but my puppy is alive.  He's full of love and cuddles and little puppy howls and sweetness and puppy kisses.  And I still can't have him for two months.

Which doesn't sound like a super long time but in puppy time that's like a year and a half.

I think if I time it right I can just drive down there and steal him.  They'll never notice right?  HE'S TINY! They'll never miss him.

I'll keep him safe.  I'll teach him to sniff.  (I'm good at sniffing.  I'm not good actually smelling things but I'm an excellent sniffer.  I can't stop sniffing.  Such is the life of someone who is allergic to... well, life.  You get really good at sniffing.)  I'll roll around and play with him and pretend to be a puppy.  Just so long as I get to snuggle with my puppy afterwards.  Puppies like snuggling right?  Snuggling and sniffing and rolling around and playing?  That's pretty just the jist of being a puppy?

I wonder if I can find him a little puppy fedora?

Ohhh, or a little golden idol chew toy.  Maybe there's a set!  Like a little grail too.  (Someone did send me a link to a very disturbing, knit Hitler plushy the other day.  Tremendously unsettling.  Let's just say that Hitler is exceptionally untrustworthy even in knit form.)  Oh I know, the third one could be a little blimp.  That'd be cool.  I can teach him the command "No Ticket" and he'll go get his little blimp and bark three times.  While he's wearing his little hat.  Maybe I can find him a little puppy bomber jacket too.  Goddamn, I want this dog so bad.

Dr. Jones!  (He got his PhD in being a puppy!)

Thursday, July 5, 2012

This Application Goes To Eleven

I recently had an experience where I applied for a job online that involved eleven different, independent steps to complete the application. This is after you had to create your initial profile with a bunch of the same information to begin with.

Seriously, dudes...

I fully understand and accept your need to know all of these things about me that are clearly stated on my resume separately from my resume despite the fact that I am also sending you my resume because...

Okay so I don't understand your need for this, exactly. But I do accept it and that is actually the important part I think. Seriously though I'm giving you all of this information no less that two times and you've still got eleven steps for me? Eleven? You really couldn't have combined any of these things together? Perhaps the personal information and the personal preferences could have been on the same page? I don't know... maybe the work history and the education history could have been combined? See how those things had similar words in their descriptions? Usually a good hint that they can be combined together.

I'm only making these suggestions as someone who's done this... a lot. And kind of has done this for a living... twice. It's cool though. There's really no reason to pay me any mind. Keep annoying the shit out of your applicants. It's actually a really solid way to weed out people who are only semi interested in working for you. Really only keeps people like me who seriously want a new job in mix. That's fair. Still, you're way annoying.

Le Sigh...

More old pictures. This time of a fancy fountain we saw on a trip looking for wedding venues (way back in the day now.) Water and light and movement and all that though. Waaaaaaay better than just repeating the same five pieces of information over and over and over again. Holy smokes.

ohhhh, light under the water 

And walls of water

And, uh... well, uh... inappropriate spurtings of curiously white-looking water

It looks like there's a secret world hidden back there - like Narnia, only damper

Hm, there's those spurts again... Rainbow Toe is right - I do have a guttermind.

On the other hand, if you're looking for a photo focusing on a few droplets of water - I'm your girl.

Abstraction - that's where I excel.  That and apparently photo captions.  It's a skill.

Wednesday, July 4, 2012


If you know me at all, you know I freaking love the 4th of July.  It's such a wonderful holiday.  I could spout off a bunch of founding fathers stuff and yay America and whatnot.  It would probably ring false and/or sarcastic though.  Probably because I would be at least partially sarcastic about it.  I love my country very much, but I think I'm pretty realistic about it - we're messed up in a lot ways.  If you haven't watched Newsroom yet, you really should.  Sorkin, man, he'll get you riled up.  This might be one of his best speeches ever.

So even that last half it rosy colored glasses in my opinion, but it was at least better.  And I get the point.  It's not anymore, but it could be again.

All the same though, I love the 4th of July.  BBQ's, chilling outside with friends and/or family all day, then watching people blow shit up.  It's a great holiday.  It's brilliant.

So last night we went and literally got on a train to fireworks town.  No seriously.  After work we headed to Osceola, Wisconsin, boarded a train, rode for about an hour, took a short bus ride and arrived in Marine, Minnesota for fireworks basically on Main Street.  Which were pretty much right over our heads.  Like, bits of firework falling on us, right over our heads.  Pretty awesome.  It was a great time.  Really the only thing that kind of sucked was that the air temperature was roughly that of the surface of the sun.  Holy fuck it's hot out.  So incredibly out.

Then we took a bus back to train back to Osceola and drove home.  Which is to say, we had a great night but didn't get home until really late and I haven't even looked at my pictures yet.

So here are some pictures from Lake Superior quite awhile ago.  (Thus the old signature.)

doesn't that look inviting?

Don't you want to go sit there next to the lake?

Aaaand pile some rocks on the arm of your chair in a... neat looking way?

Happy Fourth of July, Y'all!

Monday, July 2, 2012

Gots Me A Freak Flag - Gonna Fly It

FAIR WARNING:  If you are in any way my parent, parent-in-law... okay so if you're someone who is related to me and more than roughly... let's say 15 years older than me, you should not read further.  Shit's about to get weird.  What's about to go down - you don't want to read, I can all but guarantee it.  Uh, yeah.  Just... just stop.  Go elsewhere.  Read other stuff.  Read a book.  Read Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter.  You'll probably like it better than this.  this is going to be inappropriate and unladylike and wrong and bad.  And if you have a high opinion of me in any way this is just going to smash it all to pieces so seriously - I'm not playing with you; turn away.  This is the opposite of the 'send the kiddies out the room, stuff's about to get real' warning.  This is 'adults who know me personally, click a different link my warped is about to show' warning.  Though in fairness you should probably send the kiddies away too.

Okay?  Are we all agreed?  If you're reading this far you've decided that you can deal with the fact that I'm REALLY, REALLY weird and messed up and if you can't deal with that it's your own fault and, dude, I warned you?  So seriously, if you read further and get weirded out please don't mention this to me in person because, I'm not kidding, I will forget how to speak.  Because I am also super socially awkward.  But I'm not kidding.  This is completely whacked out.  If you are one of my parents or one of my parents-in-law or something like that please, please do not read this.  Or if you do please don't talk to me about it.  Ever.  Just look at these pretty cool pictures I took of some glasses a while ago and, by no means, hit the jump.  ever.

See! Cool glasses right?

Pretty, pretty glasses

This is what you should assume this this whole post is about.  Nothing weird happening here at all.

Sunday, July 1, 2012

It's All Rainbows and Unicorn Farts Up In Here

There’s this terrific quote from the movie Untamed Heart where Marisa Tomei’s (my husband’s movie wife) character says: “He doesn’t make sense, I don’t make sense, together we make sense.”

This is a story about my friends.  And how we remind me of that quote.  Well, sort of.

A few weeks ago a friend of mine tripped over a dog toy on her steps and broke a toe.  It was a pretty big bummer, as breaking a toe always is.  There’s just really nothing good about breaking a toe.  Except for when hilarity ensues...  

A day or two later I sent an email to her a couple other friends:

“Jesus christ it's cold in here today.  (Insert: it’s always super cold in my office, but it was especially cold that day due to clients being in the conference room so we needed to pump the air conditioning so they wouldn’t melt.  Yeah, our h-vac systems aren’t... the best.)  But there was a rainbow outside my window for a little while.  which made me happy for a little while.  Then it went away so I'm crabby again.”

She then replied:
“In other news, my butt still hurts (from falling down the steps yesterday, gutterminds) but my toe is all swelled up like a snausage and is interesting shades of black and purple. Neat!
Yay, rainbows!”

But see, I’m sort of a dumbass.  Especially in the morning.  So...
“By the time I read this I had forgotten about the actual rainbow, so I thought you were referring to your foot.  So it seemed like your opinion about the swelling and bruising changed drastically and very quickly.  Then I was all ‘no that can't be right...  Well, I know she has no problem with gay people.  though I don't know why she'd feel the need to mention it right now.  and in a really weird way...’  Then I mentally smacked myself in the forehead and said to myself ‘dude! the ACTUAL rainbow you just told them about.  Jeeze.’
So - for the record that's about how well my brain works today.  I'm sorry your butt hurts and your toe's all big and colorful (in a not-flamboyant way)”

And thus from that, somehow, “Yay, rainbows!” became both a personal mantra and a mantra for that group of friends.

(Yay, rainbows!  In this case plastic wrapped rainbows.  I thought it was cool)

Several days later:

Me: “I found some lip balm on etsy this morning called Unicorn Farts.  I’ve decided I'm going to get some.  I just can't decide if I'm just going to get just one for me or if I should get a lot and give them to... pretty much everyone I know.  Because it's lip balm scented like Unicorn Farts.  So it's pretty much the greatest thing ever and how can you not share that?  But on the other hand you could also have a signature unicorn fart scented lip balm that everyone else would be jealous of.  And be all like ‘ohhh, I love your lip balm what is it?’  and you'd be all ‘oh it's no big deal, it's just the smell of unicorn farts.  it's kind of my thing.’  and they would all sit in awe of you and ask to borrow your lip balm all the time.  But really that's just the reaction you'd want from the bitches you don't like, right?  With your friends and loved ones you'd want to be all like ‘ladies, ladies, ladies - I bring the glory of Unicorn Fart lip balm.  Bask in its greatness.’  And they would (continue to) love you forever because you're both awesome and thoughtful and the kind of person who shares cool things like Unicorn Fart lip balm.  Furthermore I can't imagine having this and not at least giving some to my nieces.
Long story short:
1) I finished the Bloggess' book yesterday (not sure if you can tell or not)
2) So next time I see you, I'll have at least one book to give you.  And probably lip balm
3) I really, really like typing/saying Unicorn Fart(s)
4) Christ, I really hope you thought that was funny or you guys are actually going to have me committed this time.  fuck.”

To which Broken Toe* replied:
“Unicorn Farts has officially made me register on Etsy. Dammit...I was avoiding it on purpose (BUY ALL THE THINGS!). I can't avoid this..”

And I said:
“Oh dude, you're toast.  Etsy is like crack for people like us.  Really, really good crack.  Take my advice and don't sign up for the daily email.  It will show you really awesome stuff every day.  and you'll want to buy it.  it's like the free sample the dealer gives you only they give it to you every. single. day.  And unless you just delete it without looking at it... there are just so many cool things.  And they send you pictures of such cool things.  and if you click on those pictures they'll just send you to a page that says ‘oh hey you thought that was cool?  Let us show ALL THESE OTHER TOTALLY COOL THINGS LIKE IT THAT YOU'LL COMPULSIVELY FEEL THE NEED TO BUY NOW BECAUSE WE ARE TOTALLY THE BEST CRACK DEALERS IN TOWN.’  That's Etsy in a nutshell.  I am sorry that Unicorn Farts has brought this upon you.  However you must keep in mind that you got Unicorn Farts out of the deal.  So really... fair's fair.  Unicorn Farts.”

The theme of Etsy as crack continued and... digressed for much of the day and eventually another friend, let’s call him... The Bird** in the conversation (who is busier than the rest of us during the day and only occasionally pops in) said:
“Wait, you guys are drug dealers?  I'm not good at the email thread thing. Meh.”

And I casually explained:
“Well... Rainbow Toe is a dealer.  And Etsy is a master dealer.  And depending on how you feel about Unicorn Farts... I'm looking to get into the game and may start distributing to 8-year-olds...  So yes, you are correct, sir.  Magic Hat*** seems pretty in the clear though.  Though he usually has several deals going down with various people on his team.  Something I can only assume will continue once So-And-So joins.  (Damn hippies and their drugs.)”

Uh, so I don't have a picture of unicorns. Or their farts. Oh wait...

Same thing! Yay, rainbows! And Unicorn farts!

So here’s what I mean:

I’m weird.  They’re weird.  Together we’re... REALLY weird.  It’s FANTASTIC.

There are only a handful of people in the world that I can be absolutely, completely and entirely absurd with.  Most of them are either married to me or very closely related to me (i.e. they were involved in my conception or are my older brother.)  It’s totally insane that I met those three people in one of my least favorite places.  But maybe that makes sense too, because I don’t think they like that place much either.  But the shared experience gave us something to talk about, and to joke about.  And that gave us the opportunity to learn that we’re all pretty damn warped, but in a lot of the same ways.  

Yay, rainbows!

Unicorn farts!

*Probably how I’ll refer to her forever now... can’t say for sure though
**Not his real name
***Ha, finally!  Been working on that one for WEEKS!

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Firsts For Everything

It's so strange to have firsts again.  After five years together you tend to get pretty used to somebody and when that includes 4+ years of living together, moving together a couple of times and planning a wedding together... you maybe start to think all your firsts are gone.

All you people who have been married for decades can just quit your damn laughing right now, I'm trying to be sincere over here.

Seriously though - we had our first kiss before we started dating (whoops.)  Our first date was so long ago we don't always agree on what movie we saw anymore (Fracture.)  We moved in together... four and a half years ago.  We got over the whole 'we have bodily functions' thing quite a while ago.  We've moved together... four times now?  There are a lot of great things about knowing someone that well.  You have jokes that only two people in the world get.  You can have pretend fights over a car arm rest and know what it means.  You have a nook to fall asleep in.  You can be called Puddles and not find it offensive.  You can listen to the man you love tell you that he's going to go drop a deuce and really not even flinch at it.  You can exist in the knowledge that he's going to be so pissed at you for writing that sentence on your blog.  But that he'll get over it.  (Right, hunny?)  You can know that buying a new couch is probably going to involve sitting on every couch in the metro area.  You can rest assured that unless you find something totally awesome and/or funny - you'll never have to have anything heart-shaped in your house.  You can really make the other person super angry in no time flat on purpose.  Just a few well placed words, a couple of dishes here and there, hell a towel left in the right place and you can have your partner fuming.  And sometimes you want that.  It's super fucking weird - but you do.  You want to pick a fight.  And you don't want to pick it with anyone else.  You've come to the bizarre decision that having a huge fight with the person you live with, the person you love, the person who means the world to you, that you cannot live without; is the best possible decision you can make at the time.  Truly it probably is the best decision you can make because you also know how to make them forgive you in no time flat.  With a word, a look, flowers bought for the first time in years, a note left in just the right place.  With that special kind of torture that only redheads know how to do.

Knowing someone well enough to marry them has it's perks, it really does.  Well beyond joint taxes and lower car insurance rates.

And yet... My husband and I went on our first walk as a married couple the other day.  We held hands and walked down the street to the park by our house.

We pointed at puppies and pretty flowers together.

We stopped as I took pictures.

We hip checked each other as we walked down the path in the woods.

We made fun of one another.  Because we're both dorks, and really like pointing that out to one another.

We've probably gone on a thousand walks together.  We've done all those things before.  We've probably spent weeks of our lives holding hands.  We now have a running count (if you knew how I mistyped that, you'd be laughing) of who has pointed out more trains to the other, let alone the most puppies or flowers.  He is a man who has probably lost count of the number of hobbies he tolerates in me, thus I doubt he hardly notices stopping for pictures anymore.  And to try to even describe how used we are to making fun of one another is just impossible.  I can't separate it from our normal conversations, from our day-to-day interactions, from our passing one another while we're getting dressed in the morning.  It is so ingrained into our relationship that it would be weird if he weren't making fun of me.

But this walk, this one in one thousand, this was special.  Because I can't help but know that it's the first time that we took a walk as husband and wife.  For as little as that dumb, pointless piece of paper means to us at the end of the day it's still this giant deal.  He still has to do a tremendous amount of paperwork if he wants to leave me now.  I still can't help but notice that holding his hand feels a little different with a wedding ring on it.  And I can't help but want to walk on his left side - so that I can notice it.  I can't help but look at him and know that we'll go on thousands and thousands of more walks and he'll hold my hand.  And we'll stop as I take pictures, and we'll point out puppies and pretty flowers (and trains) to one another.  And we'll hip check each other as we walk in the woods or along the sidewalk.  And we'll make fun of each other.  Because we're giant dorks.  And we really like pointing that out to one another.

And for all those thousands and thousands of times he'll be my husband.  That sentence makes me happier than I can say.  It warms my grinchy heart and all those good things.  But this walk was special.  It was like a first date, really.  Only better.  Because I know all those other things already.  Like where my nook is, and how to make him angry, and that Puddles is actually very cute, and that we both poo and that's okay, and that redheads are the best (obviously), and what movie we saw on our first date, and that we're going to have to sit on all of them before we buy a couch.  He's my Steve.  And that's greatest.

But just after that is that we just got married.  So we do still have a few good firsts left in us yet.