Category Archives: random

You’re Taking My Picture

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I’m getting kind of excited to take photos again. I’m not sure why, if it’s the prospect of introducing myself to a new city or if I just feel the need to be creative in a different way, but I really miss using that D80 that was loaned to me by Nikon in 2007/2008. Looking at some of the photos I took back then makes me wish I was still doing it.

They’re not all brilliant, but I think I have a knack for it — granted, I have no idea what 80% of the buttons and dials do and I wouldn’t know my aperture from my elbow, but I really want to learn.  The D80 was pretty sweet, but I definitely don’t want something that big again — it was kind of a beast. Took awesome photos, but way more camera than I needed. It kinda hurt my neck, actually.  But I definitely want something more than point n’ shoot.

Las Vegas is just ripe for the picking in terms of imagery that I would love to take photos of — vintage neon, old school Vegas, mid-century and/or totally over the top style, tourists in bad outfits… the list goes on  and on.

Most folks have been telling me to get a Nikon D50 or a Canon Rebel.  So, I’m starting my perusal of cameras… window shopping, if you will. Santa may be bringing one down the chimney this year.

Only One of These Things is Not True

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So, here’s something novel: I went out to run errands, forgot my phone and was incapable of alerting people of my whereabouts. I know, the horror, right?  But… but… how will anyone know I’m at the gas station?  How will they go on without knowing I’m buying coffee creamer?  How did the world spin before Foursquare?!

But, one good thing about not having my Twitter or Foursquare handy?  Blog fodder, yo.  I’d forgotten that’s how it works. And naturally, the one time I forget to bring my phone, the following occur:

  • I taste a delicious, awesome spicy pork taco… at a car wash minimart.
  • A fat kid holding a cardboard sign that reads “I em hongry” eats a McDonald’s cheeseburger and asks me for a dollar.
  • I am accosted by a deflating wacky, wailing, inflatable, arm-flailing tube man.
  • An engine ignites, catching a man’s crotch ablaze which he subsequently tries to put out with a slushy.
  • I am solicited to pay for the funeral of someone I don’t know because they already sold his gold teeth and still don’t have enough.
  • An unarmed assailant in short pants unleashes a scourge of apples in the frozen food aisle.

So yeah, only one of these things is not true I’m sorry to say. Or not sorry, depending on how you look at it… because if I’d had my phone, I totally would have blown this whole post in a series of annoying tweets.

You’re welcome.

The More You Know

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The song “I Love Paris” has been forever ruined for me by the Meg Ryan film, “French Kiss“. I cannot sing that song without compulsively adding “… because my love is theeeeere… with this slut girlfriend.”  Thank you, Hollywood, for ruining that for me.

I may have mentioned this before, but I get the total heavies when I use a public restroom and the seat is still warm from the person before.  How long was that person sitting there that it they warmed up the seat? Were they writing a book?  Save it for home, sister.  No crapping in Target. Unacceptable. Next stall.

Those ‘wacky, wailing, inflatable, arm-flailing tube men’ used by car washes and Radio Shacks to get people’s attention? Yeah, I hate those. Like hate those. I can’t look at them for too long; I must avert my eyes. Some people are afraid of clowns, though I think that’s pretty cliche now.  I don’t know one person who says, “Oh, yeah, man! I love me some CLOWN!”  Unless, they’re like Juggalos or something.  I can legitimately say these things unnerve me. I won’t pee my pants or run down the block or anything, but I definitely would prefer they not exist.

I have 32 cookbooks, including mixology books (for cocktails).  I don’t know that I’ve ever cooked one thing out of them. Maybe some cookies… but I always have these great plans to cook my way through various cookbooks, but really, I’d rather read the recipes than actually cook them.  Cookbooks without pictures are lame. This one is my favorite.

And finally, I don’t like warm carrots or fresh green beans, in general.  Spicy carrots, sure. But not hot, or warm. Or, at least, I’ve never had a warm carrot I was particularly fond of. I can eat raw carrots all day, but warm it up and I’m out. Green beans are hit and miss for me. If they’re fried and served with wasabi ranch like at Mo’s? Hell yes. But that kind of negates the purpose of a vegetable.  I do like them canned, which I realize these days is a big no-no what with all the creepies in canned foods and sodium out the wazoo, but I just prefer the canned ones. Fresh ones are like eating pipe cleaners. Furry veg fail.

Welcome to my neuroses.

Feed the Pony

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This past week in New York, there were so many phrases and jokes coined and/or shared.  There was also an almost embarrassing amount of Bride Wars quotes flying about.  And that’s not even in my top 10 chick movies. Top 15, at best… maybe 20.

Anyway, one of the newer colloquialisms shared with me last week was “feed the pony”.  The first time Statia said it, I’ll admit, I laughed but thought, “I think I get it…”  Who wants to be the nerd that doesn’t get it?  You might be thinking, “I don’t get it”, too — so here’s the scene:  We noticed someone with an extremely short skirt. Like really, really short. SHORT.  And Statia said, “Whoa, feed the pony.”  You can see where she’s going with it, but Kathy had to thoroughly spell it out for me back at the hotel:  “Dude, that skirt is really short.“  “Yeah, it’s so short if she bent over, you could feed the pony.”

{light bulb}  So, that was new. I embraced it.

This, of course, lead me to think of similar references: going commando, going freebird, flashing, etc.  My maternal grandmother used to say “You’re taking my picture.” which I find totally charming.

As a child, my grandmother was my best friend. I spent many nights at her house (she lived across the street) and I’d often shower there in her mid-century green parrot bathroom and then run around her house in my jammies.  Jammies for me consisted of dad’s old t-shirts or flowered flannel nighties popular with the 6x crowd in 1979.

We’d watch The Love Boat or T.J. Hooker, make dinner and occasionally, my grandmother would have an un-fancy beer, in a proper pilsner glass, like a lady does.

I was big into tumbling as a kid, so I’d often do back bends or somersaults, cartwheels, handsprings, what have you, in the middle of her living room while we watched TV.

[Aside, she called the living room the "J Room" because every person in our immediate family had a name that started with J, except the dogs -- they were named after booze.]

I would cavort and carry on and every so often, my grandmother would say, in her vaguely uppercrust way, “Zsoelle!” — She always pronounced my name with a soft J, like Zsa Zsa Gabor — “You’re taking my picture.”

It took me a few times before I understood what she meant — I was flashing her.  She’d remind me to go put on some panties like “a young lady”.  And I would (with the days of the week on them, naturally) and the cavorting would resume. But I always remember that… “You’re taking my picture.”  So when Britney and her pantie-dropping posse were all over the rags with their business like a billboard, I found “You’re taking my picture” especially amusing.

Come to think of it, my grandmother also used another charming phrase: “You’re winking at me.”

I guess I was running around without underpants often enough to warrant two reprimands.

If only she knew…

Virtual Swiffer

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Happy New Year to anyone still reading this thing.  *poke* Are you still there?

Like many other non-practicing bloggers, I figured I’d blow the dust off and see if I can post more often this year. I live such an exciting life of bunny-petting and pajama-wearing that I’ve not felt I had anything post-worthy for a while that wasn’t work-related, but there are enough changes coming in 2010 that I might as well bring back the blog.  Twitter is awesome, but viva blogging!

I do like this design, but I could do with a new look around here… it’s time.  Something a little cheerier, don’t you agree?  I’m taking the Muse back to Expression Engine, as well. It turns out WordPress was just a fling for me — thrilling at first, but ultimately mediocre.  So thanks for the interminable upgrades and incompatible plugins, WordPress, but you never forget your first love.

I was reading through my archives over the holiday break. It’s bizarre how different I sound 7 years ago when I first started this blog.  I don’t even know what I was complaining about most of the time.  In hindsight the majority of it is so… cranky.  Funny, sure… but certainly, a collection of unwarranted gripery in the grand scheme of things.

I lost about a year or so of posts during one of my many domain name changes. I’m not sure what possessed me to change my domain name not once, but twice over the last 7 years — boredom I suspect, a desire to reignite the blog spark — but I don’t recommend it. I still have the database those posts live in, I’m just not sure how to get the content out… maybe someday I’ll figure it out.

But of the posts I do have, my favorites are the ones about the various encounters with people I’ve had.  I meet weird people — I can’t help it. I’m one of those people who weirdos gravitate to and I somehow can’t help but engage them myself.  It’s just part of who I am… and I’ve accepted it because it makes excellent blog fodder. :)

So, here are some of my favorites for your reading enjoyment:

If you like those, you can find more under the Characters tag.

Happy 2010!

The First Time Ever I…

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I have no idea why I’m doing two memes in the same year, let alone the same month, but I needed a break in between chick movies to cleanse the proverbial palette. So… yeah.

  1. Do you still talk to your FIRST love?
    Ehhh… I honestly am not sure who my first love really was.  Not to get all soft focus, but I’m not sure I knew what love was until I was much older.  But if we’re talking first “like, oh my god, I’m totally going to lie to my parents and invite him over for Chinese food when they’re out of town, choke on some baby corn, pray that we make out and then totally cry when he leaves because the dog shit in the room right when he was going to kiss me” love… then, uh, no.
  2. What was your FIRST alcoholic drink?
    A Manhattan on the rocks.  My dad let me eat the cherries from his drink, so I assumed it all tasted like that and drank half of one of this cocktails before he realized that I’d done it — and I realized that man, that was no Roy Rogers.
  3. What was your FIRST job?
    If you don’t count babysitter, then perfume ninja for The Broadway department store. Also, Pizza Hut cook.
  4. What was your FIRST car?
    A 1984 silver Camaro Berlinetta with T-tops and Mag wheels which my stepmother picked out for me. A few days later I gave her some lip when I couldn’t find a scrunchee for her hair or some other ridiculous thing we fought about in hindsight and she sold it to our housekeeper.   Then I watched our housekeeper drive “my” car to work every day for a year and a half.  While I realize not everyone had the luxury of a housekeeper, or got a car for their 16th birthday, it’s a nice example of the dynamic relationship we had.
  5. Who was the FIRST person to text you today?
    Hmmm… you know, I don’t think I received one text yet today.
  6. Who is the FIRST person you thought of this morning?
    Lulu!  Do rabbits count?
  7. Who was your FIRST grade teacher?
    Sister Consuela at St. Charles Borromeo Catholic School.
  8. Where did you go on your FIRST ride on an airplane?
    I’m not really sure. It could have been Los Angeles to visit my grandparents when I lived in Foster City or… I vaguely recall a trip to Dallas to visit one of my mom’s friends, but… I’m not really sure.
  9. Who was your FIRST best friend & do you still talk?
    I think I’d have to go with Jennifer Blackwell. I haven’t spoken to her in years, though I do wonder sometimes what became of her.  She’s the first person I remember calling my best friend. She lived on the next street over and was two years older than me.  Everything was fun until she hit puberty and my dad thought she was too old for me.  But I remember watching MTV for the first time in her living room.
  10. Where was your FIRST sleep over?
    Oh, I have no idea. It was probably at my cousin Angelique’s house in Capistrano Beach.  My aunt had (has?) a house on the cliff over looking the beach.  I’d sleep on this square corner 70′s-esque “couch” thing and listen to the ocean to fall asleep.
  11. Who was the FIRST person you talked to today?
    mikey, I do believe.  Assuming we’re not counting rabbits or people we’ve spoken to online.
  12. Whose wedding were you in the FIRST time?
    I think it was my cousin Kathleen’s wedding.  Though, I don’t think I was technically in the wedding. I remember I had a peach dress on that my grandmother bought from some fancy shop in Mexico and I felt weird about being there because I didn’t even know my cousin Kathleen. I think if I were to confirm a wedding I was truly in, it would be my friend Anne’s wedding back in… uh… 1994?  I remember she had fire & ice roses, I wore a forest green velvet and taffeta dress and my bangs were way too short.
  13. What was the FIRST thing you did this morning?
    Snuggled a bun. Are you sensing a theme?
  14. What was the FIRST concert you ever went to?
    Some people might not count this as a real “concert”, but I saw Paul Anka in Vegas when I was 8 or so. If you want to go with real live grown-up, no parents, wine coolers in the parking lot concert, I suppose it would be The Cramps, Ziggy Marley, They Might Be Giants and The B-52′s at XFest in 1990.
  15. FIRST tattoo?
    Ah, the unfortunate first tattoo. I went in with an old friend Ali on Father’s Day in 1998.  We’d come from the beach, were totally sunburned and the only place on my body that wasn’t red was my left ankle. I wanted “chi” in Kanji  on my left ankle, very small. Very small, like nickel-sized.  This was before everyone on this great wide planet had a Kanji tattoo, yet I’m still not sure why I chose that particular thing.  Alas, Ali talked me into getting “friend”, as well so we could both have the same tattoo.  She got hers on her stomach, I got mine next to the ‘chi’ tattoo.  So, reading my tattoo makes absolutely no sense.  And the cherry on top, the guy made them more like the size of quarters… maybe half dollars.  While I sometimes wish I didn’t have them, I often forget they’re there and they don’t bother me that much.
  16. First piercing?
    First piercing? Really? That’s the big finale?  *sigh* Ok… well.  This isn’t terribly exciting, but my ears.  I was thirteen years old and my dad wouldn’t let me get my ears pierced. He said I’d look like a hooker from Idaho. I’m not sure why my dad was familiar with Idaho hookers, but that was his stance. My stepmom, however, took me to get them pierced at the mall on my 13th birthday.  She made me promise to wear tiny studs and perhaps not show my dad until they had healed up more.  Of course, as a headstrong teenager, do you think I just wore tiny studs?  Hell no. As soon as those lobes healed, I would put hoops on or big Debbie Gibson-looking earrings when I got to school.  Sometimes I would forget to take them out when I got home and uh… yeah, he figured it out. Guess who looked like a hooker from Idaho?

I think the last question on this is weak. you can’t close with “first piercing”! Please. If you think of a better closer, let me know, but in the meantime, and in honor of the holiday, I pose this question:

Who made you your first “mix tape” and what was on it, from what you can recall?  (Or, vice versa, if you gave a mix tape, who did you give it to and what was on it?)

Phoning It In

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I really want an iPhone. But, I just don’t know that getting an iPhone is in the cards right now.    I have a Sprint contract, yet I have nothing but seething disapproval for Sprint lately.  Mostly because the signal is crap where I live and I’m tired of paying to not use my phone.

When I got Sprint, I was living in Texas which is basically mountainless, hill-less and otherwise into the great, wide open, as it were — at least in Dallas. The signal was fantastic there and it never occurred to me to get anything else.  When I moved to California, I started having signal loss, mostly because I lived in areas that had some sort of hills, like North Park and now, South Mission Hills.  And if I’m not in a hill, I’m in a canyon or a mall or some other stupid reason why the phone drops calls, sends me voicemail alerts four days later or texts all in a big, startling heap at 3am.

So, I got a better phone.  And mikey and I still share a plan (simply because it’s cheaper and convenient for both of us), so he got a better phone, too.  And still we  have this problem when we talk to each other or anyone else, for that matter.  I am so totally over it.

It’s not really a good time to invest in a totally new AT&T phone plan and two iPhones (because sharing costs in this economy is what it’s all about)… but I could use an upgrade on the phone I’ve got. It’s stopped taking photos and I sometimes wonder if it’s just this same crappy phone I keep buying over and over (just the newer models) that is the problem. I talk to other people with Sprint and they seem relatively happy.

Sprint has that new Everything Plan for one flat rate, which is very enticing. Plus, they have a lot more phones that are similar to iPhones.  I was thinking about a Blackberry, but I don’t know if Sprint carries those…. and I don’t think Id like those teensy keys.

Does anyone have any recommendations for good touch-screen phones that are iPhone similar and have decent apps and whatnot? And should I stay with Sprint or are you compelled to sing the praises of another plan?

Meme, Myself and I

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This meme has been floating around Facebook and after being tagged 3 times, I caved and did it. I decided to cross-post for your amusement. Or because I’m phoning it in. Choose your adventure. :)

25 Random Things About Me

  1. I’m a native Californian and ridiculously proud San Diegan. I wasn’t aware of the latter until I lived somewhere else for a while.
  2. I lived in Dallas, TX for 3 years. I’ve been going around unwittingly saying 5 years until just now, not because I can’t count, but I think because it felt like five years (and yet I was still really sad to leave, honest).
  3. I have a birthmark on my right thigh that looks like a tiny turd. Kathy calls me Poopleg.
  4. Once I had a dream that The Littles were living under my nightstand.
  5. I like when men who are losing their hair crop it really close like Ed Harris… or Jeremy Piven before he got plugs. It’s sexy. Give up the dream, gentlemen.
  6. The Cure is my all-time favorite band. I never really thought of myself as one of those people who had a “favorite” band, but I’ve thought about it in earnest and yes, The Cure is my favorite.  But my favorite singer is Ella Fitzgerald. Go figure.
  7. I used to swear a lot when I started blogging. It wasn’t intentional or anything, just the phase/stage I was at in my life. I also think I took example from other bloggers. It was a very “I Bitch, Therefore I Blog” time. Hm. Not a bad tagline… anyway, I’m neither a trucker nor a prude, but I prefer to write instead with small doses of blue language… for effect. Asshole.
  8. If I could attach a neverending can of Wild Cherry Diet Pepsi to my maw like a feedbag, I totally would.
  9. While I hate to sound all Katy Perry, I date whomever strikes my fancy.
  10. I like olive loaf. Don’t tell anyone.
  11. There is an unholy amount of series set to record in my DVR. 50 is my most recent count. But I totally don’t have time to go to the gym.
  12. I have a vague recollection of showing the mailman my underpants.
  13. When I was growing up, I had a free-range cockatiel named “Bird” who woke me up every morning at 7am. Until my dad gave him to a bartender. I still don’t get what that was about.
  14. I once went on a fruit-of-the-month binge where I tried a new fruit every month. During Orange month, I must have tried every variety of orange found in San Diego (and orange-like brethren, like clementines and tangelos). Apple month was a favorite. Banana month only lasted 3 days.
  15. Sometimes I feel like I don’t open myself up for new experiences enough, though I also feel like I’ve had more experiences than anyone should have by the ripe age of 35.
  16. I’m good at landing on my feet and discovering hidden talents in myself. New job in biotech documentation? Figure it out! Needed a display built? Santa’s Workshop out of Duraflame logs! Short a florist? I’m your gal. I’ve been a model, a perfume ninja, a caricature artist, a piano bar singer, assorted administrative assistants, a butcher, baker and a candlestick maker! Ok, not those last three. Whatever I do, I pride myself at doing a good job and learning everything I can to excel. Except that modeling thing. That sucked.
  17. I lost 90-something pounds a few years ago and gained 32 back slowly over 5 years. I swore that I wouldn’t be that person who puts all their weight back on and more, so I rejoined WW this year – 6 years to the day after I joined the first time.
  18. I am the proud owner of the most faaaaaaabulous bunny on Earth. But she’s modest about it.
  19. I once saw Richard Dreyfus at a McDonald’s in Culver City.
  20. I want to take a bartending program and advanced mixology courses through various nationwide conferences until I become a high-end Master Mixologist. Just because.
  21. I’m self-conscious about the tiny gap between my two front teeth. Overall, I’m comfortable with my face, but this gap reminds me of cartoons or movies where the idiot is always missing a tooth or is gap-toothed. I don’t think that about other people with gaps, even giant gaps. I think it’s often beautiful or quirky. Yet, my tiny gap somehow gives me a Hillbilly Complex.
  22. I rhyme all the time.
  23. I love girl movies (aka chick flicks). Good ones, bad ones, so bad they’re good ones… I just love them. Especially romantic comedies. I’m not sure much for high-strung period pieces, but throw in Mean Girls and I’m right there with you.
  24. Kathy and I talk in “girl movie” quotes. If one of us cannot name that movie, we are scorned. With love.
  25. Occasionally, after getting to know me, someone will tell me they used to think I was unapproachable or intimidating, which I find bizarre. Flattering, sort of, but also a kind of a bummer. I’m totally the 180 degree opposite of that. If you ever run into me somewhere, please feel free to say hi. I’m talking at a bar or at a party, mixer, meet-up, whatever. Not the tampon aisle at Target. That’s just weird.

Go tell it on a mountain.