Saturday, October 31, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Shocking, Detestable, Horrific, Loathsome, Revolting (and other words that don't describe my general movie going experience)
So I laughed and said the line that opened this post. She replied, “Based on the kind of movies you rent, I’m not surprised!”
You see, I’d recently recounted the premise of “Blood Car” (please don’t see it), about a car that runs on human blood some how, and the bumbling government spooks watching it all go down. Sounds promising right? That’s what I thought! Here’s a sample dialogue:
“What’s he up to?”
“Well, he just killed two people.”
“Okay. Keep an eye on him.”
Seriously? God bless Netflix for having an outlet to what I hoped was student work (it wasn’t), but there should really be a warning. Perhaps you’re thinking, “They do warn you. They rate all the movies. The estimate what you would rate it!” That’s well and good for most movies, but it fails to take into account the movies that are so bad they’re good.
[side note: It received a 2.7. Hardly an indication of bad or good]
But, I digress… Back to my point- shocking me. It takes a lot. I was the girl who fell asleep during “Hostel”, mind you. (Loved part two though). I watch “Un Chien Andalou” (IFC’s #1 scary-non-horror movie) and never cringe. Give me what you got, your best shot! Get Greg Nicotero and Tom Savini together and we’ll have a great time (I think I just came a little thinking about that mash-up), but I’m still not going to be shocked or really scared. The last time I remember being scared was watching “The Strangers”, and that was only because the wind almost blew the door in and things kept tapping against the glass. Seriously, watch it next time it storms- totally different experience.
Now, it’s reality that scares me, not monsters. As we grow up, the demons and witches and ghouls are replaced with sadistic Hitchcockian killers; people who smile as they wipe your blood from their face. I feel it, it’s scary, but is it shocking? Not yet.
When was the last time? Maybe “Blood Car” should count even if it was just shockingly bad! Okay, now I’m going to have to say more about this movie. Synopsis: Vegan loser schoolteacher (who wears homemade t-shirts with vegan dogma slogans embroidered on them to work. In what universe is that appropriate work attire?), tries to invent a car that runs on wheat grass be buys from Anna Chlumsky (oh yea) at a “Peanuts”-esque tofu stand in the middle of a parking lot. It doesn’t work, surprise, until he cuts himself and a little of his blood mixes with the grass and VOILA!
Chlumsky's in love with him, but he only has eyes for the girl who sells meat in an equally ridiculous cardboard stand across from Anna's. (Uh huh). So, why does the car suddenly run on blood? How does installing a propeller in the trunk to slice up bodies get the blood in the tank? Doesn't this car smell? In the end, spoiler alert (as if that's even possible), the government guys make him president of his own country. (yep). It's bad when the Troma looks like Miramax in comparison.
Okay, so there was another tangent. Seriously though, when was the last time I saw something shocking? I've got a couple in my queue that may do it, including "Cannibal" based on the true story of the German guys who found someone to eat, literally, on Craigslist; and "In the Skin" about a girl who likes to self mutilate, a lot. Maybe I'll have something to report.
Maybe I'm just desensitized. Is that a bad thing? Some politico's would have you believe it is. I'm not very good with empathy, but I can certainly feel pity. I understand right from wrong. I don't want to emulate anything I've seen on TV or the movies (again, thanks to the folks). What's so bad about desensitizing America?
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
I have the same problem with niceness. I get uneasy around compliments, especially about things I don't control. "Nice outfit"- I say “Thanks. I picked it out all by myself.” "You're real pretty"- Uh, I'll tell my Mom and Dad you think so. I’m sure it stems from a feeling on worthlessness, like I am somehow undeserving of compliments, though I don’t know where that comes from. Although it makes me uncomfortable, I recognize that others like and live for compliments, so I make sure to bestow them at regular intervals. “I love your shoes!” “Your hair looks especially great today.” Maybe because I was showered with compliments from my parents and then given the “truth”/tough love after whatever it was falls through.
[side note: to all the parents out there- Don’t lie to your kids. Be kind, but don’t lie. They will not appreciate it later in life.]
The 1st example that comes to mind is from high school. I dropped out of the arts magnet (a kind of special arts school within the school) because it conflicted with drill team. At the time, my logic was sound: I didn’t need to take art classes to create art or be an artist, but I did need dance to be a dancer. When I later dropped out of dance due to the highly bitchy nature of my coach, my dad said, “Well, you know you weren’t the best dancer. You should have stuck with art”. Thanks a lot! I realize I wasn’t the most gifted dancer in the world, but I was pretty good in comparison with the other girls on the team, and I had a lot of fun. I don’t remember you saying anything like that when I was dancing, always “good job!” and “great”. Furthermore, you were super supportive of my dropping art! Why didn’t you speak up then? At least that would have whittled your response down to only 4 words: I told you so. Would I have listened? No, but it would have been nice to hear an honest response when I asked his opinion. You’re not doing me any favors.
This may be why I’m weary of compliments. I don’t believe them anymore. For months, there has been a guy at the bar I hang out normally who flirts and keeps asking me when we’re going out. I assumed it was bar talk, the kind a good bar tender does with his regulars. I joked back, always. A couple weeks ago, he asked me again why I never went out with him and I told him I thought he was joking. You should have seen the look on his face, somewhere between offended and confused. It broke my heart. Naturally, I gave him my number. We’ll see what happens.
What was the point of this post? Oh yea, compliments are like Christmas. They’re full of the best thoughts and intentions, but it’s hard to hide the disappointment from your face. (Come to think of it, the same could be said for dating). It’s comforting to know that others are bound by the same idiosyncrasies as I am. Please, if you meet one of us on the street, don’t look directly at us. Don’t be weirded out if we don’t look at YOU directly. Speak in soft tones. Don’t be offended if we look at you funny after you’ve complimented us. If we just try to understand that no one is exactly like us, the world will be a better place. Certainly, there would be fewer awkward pauses.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
This, my friends, is a parsnip. A cousin to the carrot, it has a softer feel and a more earthy aroma. It took two stores for me to find these. They're supposed to be in season, but have fallen out of favor with eaters, so it was a hunt. I couldn't believe they didn't have them at Central Market! Thank you to the fine folks at Kroger for coming through. When purchasing parsnips, look for medium sized ones. The larger ones can be a bit "woody", to quote Good Housekeeping, and you would need to core them.
1. Begin by washing and peeling your parsnips, about 2 lbs. Cut off the ends, and cut them into disks.
2. In a medium sauce pan, heat about 1T of oil and 1T butter over medium high heat. Add your parsnips and stir to coat with the fat, like below. Salt and pepper to taste.
3. Add 1c water and bring to a boil. Lower the heat, cover, and simmer until soft, about 20 minutes.
4. In a bowl, mix 1 1/2 to 2 sticks of soft unsalted butter with fresh chives, parsley, and chervil. Chervil is another herb I keep hearing about but cannot seem to find in my grocery. I've looked everywhere! Thankfully, my Mom came through and looked it up for me. They are related to parsley, so if you can't find them; you're fine with just the parsley. Salt and pepper to taste.
5. When the parsnips have been cooked, turn off the heat and gently stir in a dollop of the herb butter. To serve, smear most of the butter on the bottom of the serving dish (or your own plate). Top with parsnips and a pat of the butter. Pour some of the cooking liquid over and enjoy!
Monday, October 26, 2009
I’ve been obsessed with Halloween for as long as I can remember. One of my earliest memories is sitting on the living room floor with my father and sister, cutting out bats and cats and witches to decorate our windows with. We would be covered in glitter and chalk for days. One year, we created tombstones out of cardboard and buried them in our yard. We carved pumpkins, now I just paint them.
I had a Halloween party at my house when I was in Kindergarten. I know we played homemade Twister and ate lots of candy, but otherwise; I would have to refer to the copious photos my mother took to tell you more. I’ve been a witch, vampire, clown, Cleopatra, Catwoman, dancer, assassin, zombie. I can’t even remember all my costumes, except that my mother made most of them. This year, I’m drawing a complete blank. My perfect idea was ruined by my procrastination and now I don’t have the time to make it. I’m beginning to freak out. What am I going to be? I can’t be nothing. That is unacceptable.
Maybe I have a problem.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
As this is Sunday, I feel I should give you some form of a list. What follows are my favorite quotes, many from books. Do you remember your Senior quote? What was it?
"A dependable facet of life: Everything’s always worse then you thought it would be." -Dorothy Parker
"In each of us, there is another, whom we do not know." -Carl Jung
"We all see things not as they are, but as we are." -Anais Nin
"Pain is fear leaving the body." -Sailor Jerry Swallow
"Half the world is composed of idiots, the other half is composed of people clever enough to take indecent advantage of them." -Walter Kerr
"When you find yourself on the side of the majority, it's time to change sides."- Mark Twain (my Senior quote)
"The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference." -Elie Wiesel
"Solitude is fine but you need someone to tell that solitude is fine." -Honore de Balzac
"To desire is to wish back for something already lost, Or to prolong what is already unbearable." -Any Tam
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Today I made pancakes and stared at the pile of dishes in the sink until, finally, deciding to walk away and leave them for another day.
Does he like me? Circle yes or no.
I can certainly understand these fears. You’re writing is sent out into the world to be read by friend and foe alike, by those in your intimate circle and by perfect strangers. Today, I decided: Fuck it! What’s the point if I’m not also getting some kind of cathartic release from writing? Isn’t that sometimes the point? I’ve played it too close to the vest so far. Which leads to today’s topic: Friendship.
Friendship is supposed to be easy. Next to familial relationships, they require the least amount of work to be successful. The rules of friendship are simple and finite:
1. Be respectful
2. Have fun, even when you’re not having fun
3. If you have a problem, talk it out
4. Be there for each other if and when they need it
I may not be the best friend at all times, but I am loyal to a fault and can forgive minor infractions better than I ever imagined I could. I really want to believe that my friends are there for me as I have been for them. I want to believe that they don’t have ulterior motives, that they are not vindictive or cruel.
Friendship is a little hard for me. I went through a revolving door of friendships, a new one each year, until high school. Of those friends, I am now only in passing acquaintance with two. It’s hard for me to trust people. I don’t let anyone get too close. I try never to show weakness. I want to be in control. I want to be the rock for which they come to lean.
Today, I finalized the end of a 7 year friendship. I never saw it coming. We had been through so much together: multiple jobs, a divorce, the beginning and end of relationships, the 4 AM phone calls when she’d had a fight with her boyfriend and was sitting in a 7-11 parking lot crying. We vacationed together. All of this came to a standstill Saturday.
The reason she has no interest in apologizing for her behavior or mending this friendship is because I’m mean. I post unflattering pics of her online (which I removed when she asked me too, and besides; it’s not my fault you are unable to smile in a photo and are unhappy with your body. This is how you look). I don’t drop everything when she mentions in passing an activity she wants to do within the next three days. My memory is not perfect. If there’s something you want to do, but not today, you should remind me. Apparently, telling someone you would be bummed if they didn’t hang out with you on your last day in town is grounds for turning off your phone and ignoring their calls wondering where you are. You can then let your friends treat them rudely and expect no consequence.
The reality is: I may be a bit harsh at times. I have a problem with keeping my thoughts and opinions too myself, especially with friends whom you are supposed to be able to be honest with. I love taking pictures and would rather put one up of you not smiling, then have no proof of your existence at all.
I try never to let bad feelings build up until there is nothing to be done about them. I am the first to come to you, although it will be hard for me as I don’t like conflict with friends, and say, “Hey, when you do this, it make me feel…”
I’m rambling a bit now, and I apologize. It’s just…
My Dad says I should watch how I open myself to others. Almost, that I should be vigilante in looking for faults and avoiding them. If I did, if I went back to the girl I was in school, I wouldn’t have any friends at all. I’d become a hermit, sitting at home with a bottle of Jack in one hand and a pink lady Bic in the other. I can’t go back there. A friend, who I think I may be able to starting calling my good friend, said recently that she realized what a social creature she was. That she needed to be around people as much as possible or she’d just be depressed. I certainly understand that concept. We are social animals. We need interaction. I love sitting at home, reading a book or watching a movie, maybe drinking a glass or two from my box o’wine; but I have to go out at some point too. I have to let someone in, at least a little, to have a connection with another breathing soul.
I thought this person was a friend I would be happy to call “My Friend” for years to come. I guessed wrong.
No sooner had I read her cold reply to my heartfelt email about the situation that transpired this weekend, then she had already “un-friended” me from Facebook. Ouch. That was supposed to be my big move! Do I erase all pictures of her from my photo albums? Do I photo shop her out of the nice ones of me and of other people? Is it sad that we now think in terms of Facebook when dissolving a relationship? Used to be, you just erased their number from your phonebook. Now, I have to think about all this.
I’m surprised by how un-upset I am. Perhaps, it’s because I knew this was coming since Sunday. Perhaps, because I already got my good cry out of the way. Either way, it’s done. The end of an era (if we’re speaking in the “Friends” definition of an era. How eerie that that episode was on last night?).
Monday, October 19, 2009
Afterward, we headed to The Dungeon which is officially my fav bar in Nola. You walk down a long stone alley that opens into a courtyard filled with manaquin's dressed for some sort of S&M workshop. A bouncer directs traffic at the door and kicks out any intoxicated "preppy" who tries to stumble in. The place is tiny with a capital "T". Immediately, you're on top of a shotgun bar going the wrong way. It dumps out into a closet of a room with a couple tables located behind bars, literally. To the right, stairs that lead to a dance floor and another dungeon seating area. Upstairs, it's bartenders choice as she slings both drinks and CD's of metal and industrial. Downstairs, there's a killer jukebox. I gotta love a place with $2 Pabst longnecks, but I hear the Poision specialty drink is aptly named and delicious. Sorry, no pictures- they're not allowed. We spent what seemed like forever there, with Megan getting partially man-handled but a thick-neck.
Afterward, more wondering and musings on whether or not we needed another daiquiri. The answer, or course, was yes. This time I tried a White Russian which tasted like cake frosting. We grabbed a slice of pizza and fries and retired for the evening.
I was so bummed to call it a night at only 2:30 AM, but my legs had been killing me for days. Imagine me hobbleing down the street, the daiqurir only doins so much good. It was probably for the best, since we needed to be on the road at a decent hour if we wanted to get home at an hour that didn't make us curse ourselves at work the next day.
All in all, a mostly lovely time. Big thanks to Megan for coming and being a truly enjoyable travelling companion. I would love to go again with a bigger group and when I have more money to eat better (yum....want John Besh....) and gamble a little. The closest we got to Harrah's was looking out my bedroom window.
Pics to come! Look out for the second installment of them titles "Cemetery A-GO-GO" probably tomorrow.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
We started the day bright and early, around 10 AM. My lovely friend Megan had joined us late last night and by 12:30, we were spent and sore. This morning we tried to go for beignet's at Cafe du Monde but the line stretched past the square. Let me begin by apologizing, it was the daiquiri's talking, but the square in question is Jackson Square, not Jefferson. We were famished and needed coffee so off we went in search of alternate beignet's. We found a lovely place on Royal Street called Cafe Beignet . There beignet's and cafe au lait for two will only set you back $11 and you can sit in a beautiful and semi-private courtyard. I have to say, while Cafe du Monde may be the famous place to go, Cafe Beignet was more up our alley- quiet, peaceful, and void of the smell of horse manure.
Afterward, we trekked back to the hotel and picked up the car. I had to go to St. Louis No.1 Cemetery. It was everything I hoped for. Towering crypts and tumbled down remnants stand side by side in the cities oldest cemetery. It was a photographers dream. The saddest thing was seeing the number of graves that had collapsed and no one had gotten around to fixing them yet. On the other hand, the newest additions seemed almost out of place next to crypts dating back to the 18th and 19th century, many written in French.
Afterward, we drove along St. Charles and took pictures of the grand Garden District homes, including the one once belonging to Anne Rice. We came back up Esplanade and ate at Port of Call , a hamburger joint that locals say is the best. On an average day, the wait is at least 45 minutes. The converted house cannot seat more than 40 and that includes at the bar. We ordered huge cocktails and waited patiently outside in the crisp air. The burgers are great, and they should be considering that and a steak are the only thing on the menu! A must!
A friend of Mindi's met up with us and we drove back to the quarter. Megan had missed walking around in the daylight, so we re-visited the square and walked around the nations oldest outdoor market. By about 5, we were spent, so it was off to the room for a little R and R, but not before a stop at the Daiquiri stand for a frozen White Russian- to die!
I gotta tell you, I was really hurting at this point. All I wanted to do was elevate and soak the pain away. It's hard when you can't really take any pain meds because you know you'll be drinking later and you can't coat yourself in Ben Gay like usually because your trip mates will want to kill you.
Mindi went off to a wedding reception and left Megan and myself to our own defenses. I remembered walking past a gyro place earlier but neither of us could remember where it was. We walked half way down Bourbon, turned around, and found it one block from our hotel. French Quarter Cocktail does not serve cocktails to my knowledge, but the do make a fine gyro! It was the perfect cheap fix before a night of more drinking. I'm pretty sure my liver hates me right now, but I keep telling it: "After this, we won't be drinking anything for quite a while. Hang in there!"
Sitting back in the hotel bar, waiting for Mindi to get back so we can tear up Bourbon (I can't wait to go to this bar called The Dungeon!), I'm sipping a Sazerac , another New Orleans original. Legend, or Wikipedia, says it was the first cocktail invented in America. Whether that's true or not, it is delicious and caps off another night fulled by Bourbon goodness.
More to follow!
Times I uttered the word "fantastic": 12
Times Mindi or I said the word "vacation": 88
Times I asked if I could take (this drink) outside: 2
Cigarettes indoors: none yet
Almost hitting a pedestrian: priceless (or once)
Friday, October 16, 2009
Some time around 4 AM we hit the road, full of McCafe Mocha's and very little sleep. Our first stop: Waffle House. This would end my buddy Mindi's need to satisfy her tummy of all things southern (which also included Jack in the Box, Chick-fil-a, tex-mex, and Sonic). I don't know what's going on in Shreveport, but the WH was full of airmen and ladies in their Sunday best. Shortly after leaving, I must have had a panic attack from the lack of sleep and coffee IV because I wasn't having any of it. We pulled over and switched drivers. I'm told I got 2 hours sleep, but it doesn't feel like it.
The weather is beautiful and cool. It's about 57 now and windy. I'm so glad we missed the humidity- that does not make for good pictures.
Finally, we made it! Yea! Our hotel is located right on the border of the French Quatre and downtown. My room has the most amazing view of the Mississippi. I can't wait to wake up to that tomorrow. Mindi and I immediately set off for food, landing at Cafe Maspero. Famous for po'boys and reasonable prices, they did not disappoint. I had the catfish and Mindi the shrimp. PS- they have $1 Daiquiris which you can take to-go. So nice. Next we walked along Bourbon St, Decatur, looked out on the river, Jefferson square. Daiquiri bars line both sides of the street and are not to be missed. Plus side: you can smoke in bars but not restaurants.
This is my first trip to the voodoo city, and I was surprised at the number of boutiques lining Bourbon. I don't know why this surprised me... I guess I figured that street was full of bars and porn, and the cool shops and sights were on other streets. Needless to say, I was in heaven. My idea of the perfect vacation consists of taking lots of pictures of buildings and cemeteries and I don't think I could have asked for a better city for both.
I didn't bring my camera cable so pics are forthcoming. Here's a little something I wrote while trying to nap in my room:
Even 25 floors above, the sounds of the city can still be heard: the acceleration of an engine, the police siren, music, boat horns. Each blends with the sounds of the hotel until they are unrecognizable from one another. The AC kicking on, the sound of a shower running, opening and closing of doors, laughter. They define the city while betraying her uniqueness. They are indistinguishable from any downtown, USA.
Daily Total (as of 9:22 PM)
Hours of sleep: 5 out of 32
Voodoo shops: 3
cigarettes indoors: 2
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Saturday, October 10, 2009
- An older gentleman got up to sing with his backup singer/dancer/mime. His choice: Barenaked Ladies "If I Had a Million Dollars". His style: Smother's Brothers. It was awesome! You think that song was funny? You don't know nothing yet!
Thursday, October 8, 2009
In all my years living in apartments, I have never written a letter or called on a fellow resident. As an employee of an apartment complex myself, I hear a lot of things from residents on noise.
Since the residents of [redacted] moved in about a week ago, I’ve been disturbed by loud noises at all hours of the day and night. I ignored it at first, moving in and arranging furniture makes noise; I’m sympathetic to that. However, it has persisted far longer than normal and at inappropriate times. Loud stomping, running, bangs, scraps, drilling, can be regularly heard all day long, even after 9 PM (which is usually considered the beginning of the quiet hours). The noises are so loud that they reverberate through my apartment causing my own furniture to vibrate. I’m worried about my possessions breaking. I’m sure you can agree this is excessive.
I went upstairs Wednesday night to introduce myself and address the noise. Before I could knock on the door, their dog rushed out barking and growling at me. He is not very big, medium sized, but that is big enough to do damage or possibly cause me to fall down the stairs. Dogs are supposed to be on a leash in public areas per city ordinance. Regardless, I introduced myself and said, “This must be all the noise I’m hearing. My furniture is vibrating”, motioning to the dog and a small child she was carrying. She smiled at me as a friend tried to restrain the dog, but did not apologize. I know I was being a bit passive aggressive, but I really thought they would try to keep it down that night. They did not. If anything, it was louder.
I have lived here a while. They are my third neighbors, and I have never had a problem with anyone before. The previous two residents also had dogs (larger than this one), and I barely heard them. I do not know what is going on upstairs, but there is no reason for stomping on the floor, dropping boxes, and running back and forth at 11:27 PM. I thought someone was going to fall through the ceiling! This has become a real problem and I don’t know what else to do.
Please speak with them regarding apartment etiquette. Perhaps they have never lived in a vintage building and do not realize how sound travels.
I don’t like to complain, this is certainly one of my least favorite parts of my job, but it needs to be addressed. Thank you for your assistance and support in this manner. I look forward to enjoying some relative piece in my apartment again. If you need to speak with me further on this matter, please call [redacted].
So, what do you think? I’m at my wits end! They are driving me crazy. I actually kept a log of all the noise they make. I started writing the above letter at 9:oo PM and was still writing things down at 11:27 AM. Today at lunch, it sounded like they were playing fetch with the dog in the house. That was the only thing I could think of to explain the banging I heard. I’m not in much of a mood for shit like this right now….
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
[side note: Come on weather! You know sweater season is good for everyone. Have you seen me in a sweater? I have, and let me tell you, it’s probably my best look.]
My number one reason for loving cooler weather is that I get to wear my favorite fragrance, Narciso Rodriguez. While light, frilly, girly, floral perfumes have a time and a place (see those 100º days I was talking about), I don’t particularly like them. Even in the warmer months, I am bound to slip in something with a heavier musk base then one with vanilla or vetiver. You may be asking yourself, “What the hell is she talking about?” Well, let me break it down for you:
Creating perfume is a complicated procedure. The main things you, the consumer, should know are the basic layers of fragrance. These are the things sometimes printed on sample bottles and always being rattled off by the sales person. The Top Notes are the most aggressive. This is what you smell first when you apply a fragrance. The scents composing this layer are also the most fleeting. They begin to break down immediately and blend with the layer below it. The Middle or Heart Notes compose the body of the fragrance. These help remove any harsh qualities the top notes have. The Base Notes are the foundation of any fragrance. This level represents staying power and more hearty scents. The most common are Musk, Vanilla, Amber, and Patchouli. This whole process takes anywhere from 15 minutes to several hours, which is why it is important to spray a new fragrance on yourself then walk around a bit. If you still like it 20 minutes later, you’re good to go.
How does this all tie into my original statement on seasonal wear-ability? Fragrance is heavily influenced by your body’s temperature, not just your body’s chemical make-up. Every fragrance smells differently on everyone. In warmer months, the “deeper” fragrances can become over powering. It is also important to switch out your signature scent periodically to avoid nasal fatigue. (We’ve all witnessed it: The woman or man who seems to have bathed in their perfume and are subsequently trying to kill you with it. Do us all a favor: The best way to apply EDP or EDT is to spray it into the air and walk through the cloud. If you have pure parfum, apply to pulse points like the wrist and hollow of your throat.)
Now, back to my love of the fall and the brilliance of Narciso Rodriguez. This perfume comes complete with my own “surgeon general’s” warning. A heartwarming story: Back in the day at our favorite bar, I was wearing Narciso and the gentleman in my group became uncontrollable. I know! I wouldn’t believe it either if it were not happening to me. It was like I was in some sort of TV ad. They wanted to hug me and smell my neck. One friend became so obsessed with the scent, I had to institute a 2-foot radius between him and me for fear he would devour me. It was hilarious!
“This is my circle, and that is your circle. Do not enter my circle!”
On a tragic note, this gentleman’s girlfriend and one of my best friends tried the same trick and he didn’t even notice she was wearing it. No, not because he’s insensitive or the relationship was dwindling; but because it smelled completely different on her.
Needless to say, whatever feelings I had about this particular fragrance were immediately inflated 10 fold. It has become my go to for all occasions and I am so glad to begin wearing it again. It’s spicy and sensual with notes of Egyptian Musk, Orange Blossom, Amber, Coriander, and Vanilla. Fragrance is extremely personal and for good reason: The sense of smell is the most powerful memory trigger.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go back to smelling my wrist and purring to myself. I wish you good luck, and as always, am here for you and to offer suggestions. Trust me, I’m a professional and I have the certificate to prove it!To help you find your perfect new fragrance for Fall, visit: The Fragrance Directory for all the latest releases, and well as a fragrance match system that suggests new fragrances based on what you already like.
Monday, October 5, 2009
2- Evil Dead Marathon
3- The Worst Witch
4- Session 9
5- Day of the Dead
8- Killer Klowns from Outer Space
10- Hellraiser I
11- The Cube
12- Tales from the Crypt: Demon Knight
13- Elvira: Mistress of the Dark
14- The Craft
15- Dog Soldiers
16- Christopher Lee Marathon: The House that Dripped Blood, Chamber of Horrors, Taste the Blood of Dracula
19- Puppet Master I
20- Hostel II
21- The Exorcist
22- The Howling
23- House of 1000 Corpses/The Devil’s Rejects
24- Event Horizon
25- Ginger Snaps
27- Cannibal Holocaust
29- Pitch Black
30- Nightmare on Elm Street III
31- Resident Evil
What's your favorite scary movie??
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Anyway, so off I go to a courthouse I’ve never been to before with my purse full of books, carrot sticks, water, and a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. I’m set! If I had studied the tiny map that came with my summons, I would have noticed that parking for this courthouse was 2 blocks away from the building. Lovely. Now I’m running late as I’m running down the street. Thank god for my new kicks or this would have turned tragic.
When I get there, I find out the survey I was asked to complete and return was never entered so I have to do it all over again. What convenience. The gentleman behind the glass divider was taking the quiet policy extremely personally and would not speak above a whisper. This made for a very interesting survey.
[side note: I really do not appreciate taking my belt off in public. Sure, it can be seen as my fault that I wear a belt that is sure to set off the metal detectors, but it’s the only one I have and I don’t wear it just for fashion. I need it. I don’t like the idea of my pants falling down or my exposing my pasty belly to onlookers.]
Then I walk into the holding tank, er, jury room. I was worried on my way there about my juror #26 number. I’m used to the federal court where that would put me in the 1st or 2nd row and that is bad news. Apparently at civil court, 326 puts you in the back as there could not have been more than 30 people in the room. I plop down in a chair and start reading. And reading. And reading. Without fail, of the 5 times I’ve been called to duty, 4 of them ended with my being dismissed before we even entered the courtroom. 3 of those ended with being dismissed after several hours of sitting around, and once I went all day with myself and 50 other sad souls camped out in the hallway. I’ve only been let out early once and yesterday was not one of those days. Thank god for snacks.
After what seemed like forever, and I had come close to finishing my book, they started randomly calling names and asking for people who lived in specific cities to come to the front. Hum… I bet I’m going to get out of here soon. Sure enough, someone came into the room and dismissed us. So glad I could be of service. So glad I missed out on a day of work and the possibility of making money. So glad I could sit in an uncomfortable chair around vaguely sick people. (I am glad for whatever deal they struck, but couldn’t they have done that before we all gathered?).
So, this is the… sixth time I’ve been to jury duty and I’ve only been eligible for 10 years. If I may make one request- Quit it! I don’t want to see another summons for years. My Dad’s only been called three times in his life. What gives?!?