hello afro ken.
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Friday, April 12, 2002 Goodbye to the man on the sea-legged deck: It's hard to fathom that I have less than a week left at my job. Three days in fact, and I'm trying not to be sad about it. Then I'm giving a presentation for this group and suddenly my professional career is kaput. Okay, well maybe not kaput; I just like that word. Kaput kaput kaput kaput kaput kaput. The other night I met "the guys" at Holiday and slurped down an apple martini in much the same way I pack away the Mentos. Yummy delish. I love that we finally have a neighborhood bar. Cheers to the waitress who remembers my cider order when I walk in! Hip-hip to the photo booth! But what makes the Buena bar scene even gooder is just having someplace to meet the libboy and crew. Sigh. I'm going to miss those kooky monsters. So I'm taking a week off in between jobs to surf in Cocoa Beach for a few days before corporate america makes me into a rusty robot. I'm meeting my crazy sis and the 'zill for some beach fun -- anything to help me lose the tanning spray addiction I'm hooked on.
Tuesday, April 9, 2002 In other exciting news, I found out where I'll be living when I get into Philly. The new job has very generously agreed to put me up in corporate housing for a month. Yips! Life right next to the Rodin Museum and a couple of blocks from the art museum makes me, like, feel very cultured and stuff. Parallelines: Last week I finally got an eye exam for the first time in 3 or 4 years. While my contact prescription hasn't changed, glasses styles certainly have. I am no longer embarassed to wear my spectacles outside. Today I even wore them to work which is truly a vanity breakthrough for me. And that can only be a good thing.
So here's a call out to all those visually impaired people out there. It's time to get together in our virtual blindness. If you are reading this with corrective lenses (contact or otherwise) feel free to share your prescription in my guestbook. And to get ya started, I'll give you my left eye: (-5.5).
Monday, April 8, 2002 Things have been, umm, rather busy here. That is the understatement o' the year. In anticipation of my last day, I started cleaning my office and found that I have over 10 random Pez dispensers. No idea where they came from, except the Ewok one. Also found like 5 pairs of pantyhose, which is funny because I don't generally wear the 'hose. What else: a button from AU class of 1997. It has a little picture of a baby Eagle on it and says "EAGLET" on the bottom. For the longest time I called myself an "eagle T", not realising that "eaglet" really meant "eaglette". Thursday, April 4, 2002 Picture above: Okay, okay, so I really really used to love Voltron back in the day. It's snowing here in Chicago, if that is any indication of my weather-equals-mood state. In other news, I start my new job April 29!! I think it is time to put on our party hats. Tuesday, April 2, 2002 Apparent suicide yesterday afternoon at work. Monday, April 1, 2002 About the crazed message below: No, no, I didn't get any tit, as one Freudian friend thought she saw. It's the job! An offer was made last Thursday, and I am now almost officially employed in Philadelphia! Yips! If you are scratching your collective heads, here is da scoop. A couple of weeks ago, I applied for a less-librarian/more techie position at this company in University City, which is an area of Philly. They called, we met, and suddenly I'm moving east a whole lot sooner than expected. Hello, baby jesus, is there any room at the inn? Thursday, March 28, 2002 For those in the know: I got it! I got it I got it I got itIgotitIgotitIgotitIgotit.
Yes, I hate soup!: Since my brain has been working in overtime, I've been feasting my eyes on pretty objects, and find myself drawn to pop art, especially the mod-driven world of Shag. This framing company does cool stuff too, like their Mark Ryden pictures. But my longtime favorite is still Henry Darger, whose work is being featured at the American Folk Art Museum. It's a fascinating exhibit so if you live in NY, check it out.
Friday, March 22, 2002 This article reminds me of a late-night in college with my roommates, crazyKristen and J., when I nearly peed my pants talking to the customer service rep for the BaconWave. "Are there other 'wave' products for zapping out grease? The White Castle wave? The pepperoni pizza wave?" And onward. I believe he hung up on me. Sidenote to A&A: it was a very "was it a cat, or was it grandma?" moment. Thursday, March 21, 2002 Hello operator: Today I journeyed to the way-west suburbs of Chicago for a work-related thing. Suburban Illinois is a real eye-opener -- the only way I can think to describe it is "wide open". The sky is bigger (devoid of skyscrapers, at least) and the extra sunlight hurts my eyes. Most of it reminds me of Ghost World: familiar and disjointed. But onward . . . So after the meeting, I realize that there is a Home Depot right down the street. Cool. While in the paint department, I detect a slight smell -- it's spray paint!! I haven't seen this wonderful object in years, as it is illegal to sell it in Chicago (only some art stores have it.) I pick up the can and shake, hearing the familiar click of the metal balls and, for some reason, feel like a little kid again. On impulse, I open the neon pink can and spray it into the air, letting the particles coat my hair in a hydrochloro-flurocarbon mist as I reintroduce myself to this product. All the while, I am dancing a'la "Can't Buy Me Love" --the movie.
Spray paint technology has really come far, I've learned. There is metallic paint in gold, silver and copper. You can make your own chalkboard with this matte green paint, and there is paint that looks like stone. Amazing. The next thing I know, my cart is filled with cans and I'm thinking of all the random crap I could potentially "fix up". It's not like I'm some dysfunctional tagger, but spray paint rocks. Thank you, suburban dystopia, for reminding me of the joys of paint in a can. Tuesday, March 19, 2002 Photographer or "memory maker"? So my sister is temporarily employed at The Mall, which she is somewhat sheepish about, shooting pictures of little kids with the Easter Bunny. Yesterday, though, these three tricksters wanted a shot and C. couldn't resist taking a copy for herself:  Yeah, I'm having a little trouble cropping in Photoshop today. Apologies. Monday, March 18, 2002 Chickens! I've missed you so! Well I'm back after a whirlwind weekend in Philadelphia and the merry-making, interviewing and house hunting it entailed. Truth be told: I think I'm going to like the city. Right now I have two good reasons. The first is it's affordability, especially in the real estate market. The second is that there is NO TAX on clothes. What a concept -- Illinois charges 8.75% on all purchases. My internal clothes horse whinnies in delight. And this article is all about dining in the city. I highly recommend Roy's where I had the most amazing butter fish with a ginger/wasabi sauce. Hot-nostril heaven in Center City. Go Eagles. Tuesday, March 12, 2002 FYI: The domain name "whatupdog.com" has not been taken. Libgrrl.com, however, has. In case you were wondering. Oh, and some cool pictures . . . if I didn't know any better, I would say these were shot on campus. Monday, March 11, 2002 Weather Channel/Food Network: Chicago had the craziest weather this weekend. Nutso wind propelled me down the street and the sideways rain/snow/sleet/sun action was boggling. This morning, I dropped the Beagle off at work, which is two blocks away from the Hancock Tower, where scaffolding fell on Saturday and killed three people. From Chicago Avenue, I saw dozens of windows that were taken out by the dangling debris. It's hard to imagine just how high 42 stories -- until I saw the little figure of a construction worker putting a board in one of the windows. On a lighter note, I just want to say to all detractors that the cheese fry-stuffed turkey was delicious. Bryan seasoned the fries, put them around and inside the turkey and added some brie. He also slid delicious Swiss cheese under the bird's skin where it cooked to golden cheesy goodness. YUM! We ate until we couldn't move and then sipped minty tea to aid digestion. Now if that's not a good meal . . . This weekend we ordered a LobsterGram. Fresh, live Maine lobsters got delivered in a little cooler on Saturday morning. I'm usually not a fan of killing my food and then eating it, but fresh lobster is the best. However, plopping lil'Pinchy into the boiling water did upset me, and I ran into the other room after I did it to avoid his screams. Kidding about the screams, of course. Overall, four votes for "yummy delish."
Friday, March 8, 2002 Hoodrat, hoodrat: I had an extended conversation with Peebles, my co-worker, about hoochie mamas. Without thinking, I called my pants "hoochie mama pants" and then thought, "what the hell does that mean?" Peebles described it as trashy and "not elegantly sexy; more slutty." That pretty much summarizes what I'm wearing. But is it truly hoochie mama? Check out your slang use here, chicken pies. Huffy: more than a bike: Things certainly are moving right along on the moving-track. Not only are we finally working with a realtor in the great city of Philadelphia, but I somehow lined myself up with an interview! So maybe I'll actually have a job by the time we move and will be able to rid myself of this excess anxiety. We're coming into town next weekend so if anyone has any recommendations on either neighborhoods that would be cool to live in or general places to check out, I would be so psyched. You can inform me here or at least drop me a hoot. Tuesday, March 5, 2002 Splint: Highly recommended album: The Shins, Inverted World. I can't stop listening to it and must give Meghan major bigtime kudos for making it a burn-of-the-month. Hey! Heeeey kids! We should start a club! B.O.T.M. If you want to join, drop me an e-mail at libgrrl@hotmail.com. Whole albums are out -- let's think sample sizes of cool bands. I don't want to get Napsterized. Stuff that might be burned: the kind of music you find yourself looking over at the record store, saying, "I'd buy this . . . if only I didn't feel so much pressure at the listening booth." You know the moment. Cool indie kids waiting behind you to hear the latest Beluga Wail Sneakers album and you can't decide if $13.99 is too much for potential pop pleasure. Join up or see what is in store here: the Shins' "new slang" video. Hoot, hoot. Thursday, February 28, 2002 Two things: One -- yesterday, someone wrote "Alabama sweet pea" with their finger on the side of my dirty car. It made me giggle. Today I found out it was my work buddy, plb. Two -- last night, Bryan "waxed gastronomic" about the joys of going to Chirpin'Chicken and getting a half chick with a side of cheese fries. The fact that there is a fast food joint called Chirpin'Chicken disturbs me, as if it should have a logo like, "Chirpin'Chicken . . . not anymore!" I push this thought out of my head. Anyway, I proposed the idea of a poultry/potatoes combo: cheese-fry stuffed turkey! Beagle and Bryan went wild for the idea and we spent the rest of the night deciding between methods of cooking, kinds of cheese and fry type. Dinner is set for this Sunday . . . pictures will surely follow. Wednesday, February 27, 2002 Three reasons I love Pittsburgh: The first is because I met the Beagle there, and he "showed me a good time" at places like the Decade. The second is my old apartment, located at 300 S. Negley. God I loved that place even though my landlord was a complete shitface. Word. Oh, and number three: lobster art. No, not kidding. This CMU student has decided to dress up like my favorite crustacean, build his own house and live there in silence for 3 months. Sound like fun?
 * * * * * Friends of the fur: There are many reasons to love squirrels. They are cute, furry and can run straight up trees. They also have the power to deceive. They look cuddly but they might just jump on your face. Watch out! Sometimes squirrels are friends. My friend PizzaSquirrel thinks he is just like people, only more scampery. Love it, live it, nibble it. Tuesday, February 26, 2002 Did Superman have a plan? The above question was often asked by my friend Matt while in Costa Rica. It seems appropriate today as I sit at work burdened by my inability to make plans. It also reminds me of being a little kid, and severely cutting off my circulation by putting dozens of rubber bands around my wrists and head in a failed effort to emulate Linda Carter, a.k.a. Wonder Woman. That headband/cufflink duo can't be beat.
Anyway, I'm excited because the Beagle and I have rounded up a small crew to attend Michigan Fest in a couple of weeks. There are oodles of cool bands playing, including new favorites Death Cab but my heart belongs to Ted Leo/Rx. Many thanks to the p.fort for the ultra-secret alert. To you I dedicate this kung-foo move: ha-YA!
Friday, February 22, 2002 Buried perversity: My subconscious sexual innuendo constantly pops up (ha!) at work because I don't think of the potential in what I say. Example: my co-worker P. told me yesterday, in his usual deadpan way, that he wanted to have an underwear party. Wouldn't an underwear party be fun? he said. "Yeah, sure." So he invited me and I replied, "I'll be there. I would definitely come in my underwear." P. then gave me a look like he was about ready to burst, and all further responses went into slow motion. He and my boss exchanged knowing glances and I hastily excused myself for lunch. Which reminds me of the time a student asked me how to download something from a database, and I told him to "stick (his) little disk" in the drive. To which his friend completely egged him on about his "inadequate floppy." Inverted photos: Meghan, a cool girl who needs a pita (hint), and I are on the music exchange tip. She sent me two superdreamy CDs: the g'nu Death Cab for Cutie and the Shins. Major yips to new soundbytes. And smiles to my friends Hillary and Steph who screamed last night when I told them that I'm moving to Philly. It is going to be so nice to have friends within driving, not flying, distance. For an insider's look at my current neighborhood, I give you this link. Thursday, February 21, 2002 You never realise what a strange word "pretzel" is until you see if written over and over again and suddenly it loses all meaning and takes on this bizarre Anglo-Dutch face of a matronly woman in a bonnet. The bonnet is covered in paisley flowers and gigantic bumblebees swarm around her rosy-cheeked head. Wednesday, February 20, 2002 __: This is a story about a girl who loves bacon. The cheese steak news: Official decisions have been made, and the Beagle will be attending law school at Temple University, starting this August. And so, sometime this summer, we'll pack it all up and hightail it over to Philadelphia, City o' Brotherly Love. While I may seem outwardly calm, my insides churn with all of the un-knowledge this brings: where will we live? where will I work? what if I can't find a job? should we rent or buy? what if my parents decide to "just drop in" occassionally? where will we put the scoot? should I get a puppy to supplement the one going back to school? who will tell me about cool things guys think girls would like? and what about the scrabble posse? As I freak out, my guitar gently weeps, playing the strangely cacophonous song looping in my head. Incidentally, I am really excited for Beagle. I think he is going to be happy at Temple, and in Philly. (That's where he's from, so he's got a built-in friend network already.) And you can't beat Temple's mascot: the Owls! This definitely gives me something to hoot about.
Tuesday, February 19, 2002 Sharing is caring: add some expletives to that and you'll get this page. Courtesy of Y.L.G.i.B., another fine site. Monday, February 18, 2002 Good morning Monday! Am I the only person who has to work on President's Day? Happy Birthday Mr. President! |
i'm back!