Tenth Musee

It’s a stressful time for me right now. I’ve got many big projects that I must launch before Kathy’s visit next week, we’re trying to get our Femmeplates™ up and running (though, it’s a soft launch) and I’ve been pretty much married to my computer, working dawn to well, well past dusk.

So I didn’t notice that another of my fish died yesterday. 

NPH had been sickly since before Flapjack bought the farm, but I thought he was getting better.  The last few days he’s looked a bit wan and colorless, sort of depressed, but he was still reacting to my presence, swimming when I’d approach and eating.  I didn’t miss his feeding, I didn’t overfeed him, I didn’t neglect him… he just died. 

The odd thing is that 2 days ago I bought another fish to use Flapjack’s old bowl… finally.  I wanted to be fairly sure none of my other fish were going to die before getting another.  Ah, irony.

He’s another Betta, fairly large and almost entirely midnight blue-black except for his super long flowy fins and tail which are dark orange with black tips. I’ve not given him a name yet; I’m waiting for it to come to me.

*sigh*  

For the last six to eight weeks I’ve been making mental notes to keep an eye out for the August issue of Wired Magazine on newsstands at the end of July.  I kept forgetting until last week, when I stumbled onto their site and saw the “How To” issue advertised.  This was it!  This was the issue I was interviewed for as a contributor to the Spruce Up Your Blog segment of their annual How To Guide.  Hooray!

I was called by their offices in San Francisco not once, not twice, but four times.  Voicemails were left, calls were returned and I had a couple fairly lengthy chats with a lovely woman whose name escapes me.  She asked me all kinds of questions about tips for improving your blog’s look, traffic, what’s hot, what’s not, etc.  Some of her questions were kind of complicated and open-ended. Most of this stuff doesn’t have a simple one-liner “pat” answer and I really had never read the How To Guide before, so I wasn’t exactly sure what she was looking for.  I just offered my best professional insight and hoped that I didn’t come off like a tool.

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I had a conversation with my friend mikey this weekend about men wearing women’s clothing.  A game show recently had the men dress up in a wedding gown for a competition and for some reason, the guys on the show were going bananas over having to wear it.  The week before they were asked to wear a diaper and a bonnet, but somehow that was fine.  I asked mike about this, not understanding what the big deal is and he told me that a guy dressing up like a woman is fine for Halloween, like a hooker or a cheerleader or something, but a wedding dress is crossing the line.

I totally don’t get that.  Why?  He insists it’s just weird and implied that a wedding dress is somehow more emasculating than any other dress.  So, a man in a wedding gown is somehow far more tragic and embarrassing than let’s say… a latex slut skirt or a fairy tutu? 

I’ve never had a problem with men in drag… for Halloween or any other time. If you’re secure in your manhood (which I know my friend is, so I found wedding dresses a bizarre line in the sand), why does it matter if it’s a wedding dress or a studded patent leather tank-ini?  My dad dressed up quite a few times, from what I can recall, for Halloween parties and the like… all in good fun.  He wasn’t a cross-dresser, he just had a sense of humor!  One year, he and my mom went as Peter Pan and Tinkerbell… and my mom was Peter Pan.  (Dad looked smashing in pink tulle, though.)

Now, I’m not suggesting I’d like my boyfriend to dress up like Little Bo Peep or anything. Ruffles don’t really do it for me. I dated a guy once who wore a too-small green velvet thong, so I understand the need to draw the line somewhere, but I definitely don’t get where a wedding dress is more or worse or somehow mired in gonad-snipping embarrassment.

Men? 

One day last week, sitting at thwack! my desk in the late afternoon, I heard a loud, rhythmic thwack! that initially didn’t bother me, as I figured it would stop in a minute. thwack! But, after about 15 minutes of this, I started to get a thwack! headache.  Annoying isn’t it?  That was only a couple sentences.

The sound was kind of hollow, like bouncing those big red cherry balls on pavement.  At first I thought it was just that, but after a few thwacks! I noticed the sound was much deeper and resonant.  And it happened too steadily to be kids playing.  I figured it had to be someone doing some kind of construction or hammering and hoped it would go away.

After 35 minutes, I couldn’t take it anymore and went outside to investigate.  My apartment is built into a hillside, so the neighbors to my left sit higher up on the hill than my building does.  There’s a walkway that runs alongside my building that has cars in their lot parked at my head-level, if that makes any sense.  So, I walked around the side of the building to peer into their parking lot to see what the hell was going on over there. 

I found a guy swinging a giant mallet at a tire lying on the ground.  Over and over. And over.  I assume this was for fitness, since he was sweating buckets and I couldn’t find any evidence of any other reason.  I don’t mind that this guy was working out, but come on… like he couldn’t tell how loud that was? 

I called over to him when he took a breath. “Excuse me!  Hi! I was wondering how much longer you might be doing that?”

He said, “I’m done.” And I said, “Ok, thanks!  That sound really bounces right off the side of my living room, like you were hammering at the Hollywood Bowl.  Seems like a good workout, though!”

Then I did the “OK, bye, thanks, mumblemumble, blah blah…” as I walked away.  Cool, I figured that he might have not realized that people were home during that time of day (though, it was 5 o’clock) or not understood that due to the structure of the buildings against the hillside, it’s like a makeshift amphitheater whenever people make noise outside.  No biggie.

I kid you not, he started again yesterday.  What the hell, buddy?  Clearly, he didn’t get the hint.  Look, do your workout. I am totally cool with that, but drag your raggedy ass tire out to a field somewhere and beat it, would you?  Give a girl a break!  Between him and the Weekend Warrior and the Humpfest Royale upstairs, it’s like Lollapalooza up in here. *raises the roof* Etcetera.

Where has common courtesy gone?  I don’t crank up my music.  I don’t rev my car. I don’t play the electric guitar during prime time.  I shut off my car alarm if it goes off.  I don’t slam the dumpster lid.  I don’t leave my clothes in the washer indefinitely.  I don’t have parrots that caw like it’s effin’ Costa Rica at 6am on a Saturday morning. And I certainly don’t bang a tire in the parking lot after my neighbor has sweetly indicated that it’s bothersome.  Nay… nay, I say!

Seriously. People are thwack!

Ok, that’s a dumb name, but it’s on par with “de-lurk” as far as I’m concerned.  I’ve never been a big fan of “de-lurking days”, I guess because I always assumed if people wanted to comment, they would.  I always felt like it was just too obvious a plea for comments.  I don’t begrudge anyone that, I’ve seen the fun had by those involved, it just was never for me… before.

I’m about to boldy go where I’ve deigned to go in the past — I’m asking you to de-lurk.  *gasp! dismay! shock abound!*

Ok, so it’s not that big of a deal, I’m just really curious to see who is reading.  I love to meet new people and I don’t just write for me, even though that’s the cool thing to say. I’ll keep it real for you, kids: I write for the fun of it and you are part of the fun.  Without you, I’m just talking to myself and I get enough of that as it is. 

Lately there have been some new folks commenting and I’ve been following some links in my traffic to skulk about on blogs who have visited here… maybe even yours.  I think it’s time we introduced ourselves, don’t you think?

So, uh… hi!  *waves* Leave a comment, would you?  It doesn’t have to be profound; I’m just curious who you are.  Tell me a story. Tell me about your blog.  Stroke my ego. Stroke somethin’! 

Then maybe later we can brush each others hair and gab about American Idol.  And if you get that reference, I’ll send you an IT Girl’s mouse.

Here, I’ll give you a topic to break the ice:  speaking of “de-” things… why is “pantsing” someone the same as “de-pantsing”? I’ve never understood that. Pantsing implies the application of pants, not the removal, but de-pants just sounds dumb.  To pants or de-pants… that is the question!

I was just watching the end of Good Morning America where they were doing a segment with Ted Allen, the new host of that Mythbusters-meets-Good Eats series, Food Detectives. I think it premieres tonight on the Food Network.  Anyway, all the hosts were competing to see who could eat six saltine crackers in under a minute because it’s supposed to be some kind of “food myth” that it can’t be done.

I had never heard of this particular myth until about five years ago when a guy who was dating a friend of mine brought it up.  “Dudes, dudes… listeeeen. Can you eat six of those salty crackers in under a minute?” (or words to that effect.)

Conveniently, I had some of those “salty crackers” in my cabinet, so we busted them out.  He and I were the only ones to give it a go and honestly, I wasn’t sure what the big deal was at first. I love saltines and when I’m sick, I can nibble like a little mouse through a whole column of those; it’s the only thing that makes me feel better.  I thought, “Six in a minute?  Amateurs.”

Well, it is a lot harder than it looks, but I did it with 9 seconds to spare on my first try.  The other guy still had a whole cracker left.

I’m still not entirely sure if this is something I should be proud of.  I’ve accomplished many things in my life and I wouldn’t put this up there with being published or losing 100 lbs, but part of me wants it in my bio…

I’ve been looking forward to this Friday for months and it’s finally almost here!  I get to see Eddie Izzard!  Eeeeeeeeeee!  And with great seats, to boot!  Let’s use more exclamation marks!!!!! OMGPONIES!

Originally, I’d gotten the tickets with Ross in mind, but when our vacation plans got shuffled, I had to think long and hard about who to take with me.  This is no random night of random comedy — this is Eddie.  I want to go with someone who loves him like I do, someone who “gets” the humor, who would really appreciate it.

It’s not that I don’t want to introduce Eddie to potentially new fans, but I don’t want to spend the evening worrying if the other party is enjoying it.  I’ve been waiting years to see Eddie and I didn’t trade my first born for these seats to do anything but laugh until I cry and wonder where he got that lipstick.

I almost sold my extra ticket on Craigslist, but then I remembered that Mrs. Z is probably an Eddie fan, so a few texts and some squealing later, we’re going on Friday night. Hooray!  I could use a night out, and I haven’t seen Mrs Z. since her bambino was born, so this should be a good time. She’s so much fun.

Though, I am going out with chickrawker tonight. She likes this place called Blue Lotus that I’ve been meaning to check out, so we’re having drinks there this evening before karaoke. Hopefully I can go the distance, I’m such an old lady these days. I better start going out more before I start talking to my fish and Tivo’ing episodes of Ghost Whisperer.  Not that I’d do that… or uh, anything. 

I recently added my little donation box over on the sidebar there, as I do every year for AIDS Walk. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to participate this year; I thought I might be in England or England might be here, but due to pissy little things like visas and red tape, plans are in limbo. So, in lieu of red tape… red ribbon!

I love participating in AIDS Walk… most of the time I walk by myself except that one year that GC drove down from Imperial Valley (I think?) to walk with me. That was fun!  So, if anyone is inclined to hoof it with me roughly 3-point-some-odd miles on an early Sunday morning with the promise of Bloody Marys in our future, you’re more than welcome.

I miss running Rock the Walk.  I sometimes get sad that I surrendered it to my estranged friend because not only was it my idea… it was a good one!  The ‘friend’ did nothing with it, even though she promised to maintain it, letting the domain name go so some guy in Great Britain owns it now. Lucky him.  (In fact, I couldn’t even get my ‘friend’ to walk with me — it was all about being cool and looking like a charitable person.) But that’s ok… I’ll just walk and get a free t-shirt and enjoy an ice pop from the nice volunteers who hand them out while you’re walking. It’s not about recognition for me… I’m just bummed I no longer have that avenue with which to raise more money for this cause.

I don’t need to wax macabre on a Friday about all the reasons why we need to provide support and services for those living with HIV/AIDS all over the U.S.  What I can do is ask if you could throw a dollar into my kitty, or whatever you’re willing to donate. I’m walking whether I’ve got a three dollars or three thousand,but every little bit helps.  If you’re don’t feel like kicking cash my way, consider walking with me, if you’re in the area. Or, if you have an AIDS Walk in your city, sign up and hustle your own tuchus for donations or volunteer at the event.  There are many way in which you can help. I hope you will.

Happy Friday everyone!

I’m sitting here, trying to figure out where to start my to-do list.  But it’s one of those deals where you can’t decide if you should do the thing you should do first which will take up your whole day or if you do a bunch of little things on the list to simply cross them off.  So, in the meantime, I’ll procrastinate by blogging.

I was watching Flipping Out over my oatmeal this morning.  When I first saw this show, the first season, I was annoyed by Jeff Lewis… which I guess is the point. But honestly, I’ve grown rather fond of him now. He’s an uptight, OCD, boundary-pushing mess, but I like him. I can relate to him a little. Kathy said the same thing.  I think it has something to do with being a creative person with a side of attention to detail and a sprinkle of control freak.  And for understanding the occasional client who want something that could only be produced by a force of nature or a miracle or a magician… but the budget can’t change.

I was listening to this woman go off about crown molding this morning, or lack thereof.  She only had a $200k budget, totally inflexible, but as the project progressed, she added this or changed that. Then they found rats in the A/C and had to put on a new roof, which added $40k in costs which had to come from somewhere.  But she just had to have the crown molding, oh heavens to betsy, the crown molding!  You have to have crown molding in a traditional house, what the hell are you thinking?!  If she’s not getting crown molding and she’s not getting her outdoor cushions, what’s she getting?  Oh, woe is she with naked ceiling seams.

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Speaking of media bullshit, mikey just sent me a link to this new game from Playstation 3:  FAT PRINCESS.  Lovely.

Frantic and fun, Fat Princess pits two hordes of players against each other in comic medieval battle royale. Your goal is to rescue your beloved princess from the enemy dungeon. There’s a catch though: your adversary has been stuffing her with food to fatten her up and it’s going to take most of your army working together to carry her back across the battlefield.

Yeah, that’s helping.