Ahem, A recant

Earlier this afternoon I may have made some comments that suggested I was anti-marriage. I am not.

Personally, I am not sure marriage is for me. My reasons are too many and perhaps too politically motivated to be put into words on a blog. However, I would never, ever, suggest that marriage is wrong for anyone other than me.

And I'm not just saying this because my college friend asked me to be a bridesmaid at her wedding this evening.

Okay, I am saying this because of my conversation with Shayna, but it was all true. Honest.

I am actually giddy at the idea of being a bridesmaid, and to someone special, no less. Not to name names because I'm sure I'll forget someone, but Shayna is just about one of three girl friends I had in college, so it is pretty exciting. While the wedding is a little while off and you may be thinking, 'Man, I could be your date and go to an awesome wedding in New York,' there, sir, you would be wrong. Although nothing is official, I may already have a date...Schreiner, I'm looking pretty hard at you (again).

Congratulations, Shayna! I sincerely am happy for you and can't wait to be there.

She's Giving In

I know it's "normal" or "fine" or whatever to be married at this age, but with so few of my friends in even mildly committed relationships, I think nothing of being single. That is, until an old high school friend finds Nate online and emails me. I haven't talked to most of these people since really ninth or tenth grade (I seem to remember falling off the planet for junior and senior year), but the girl Sara emails me and tells me she's been married for over two years, and two of my other old friends who she still keeps in touch with, are also married. It was amazing how subtly she did it. She said something along the lines of Maggie Gyllenhall (now Sarsgaard), which seeing their maiden names in print and realizing that they were no longer these people was priceless. It also freaked me out. Either way, I'm still a basket case. It was nice, though, to have an early high school reunion.

So, anyway, Sara came across Nate via the ultimate guarantee that you will never drop off the face of the planet website, myspace.com. Knowing that I can reconnect with old classmates online via this website, I'm finally giving in. There's maybe 5 people I'd care to see how they're doing since graduation, but you know, it's worth a shot. And anyway, everyone else is doing it. I'm totally falling for peer pressure at 24, and even worse, it's from old high school classmates. Maybe I should have paid better attention at those assemblies.

In other news, I am perhaps going to be cutting some fat, figuratively. I changed my phone number to a local one. I am not stupid enough to give it out online, so if you get a text from a weird number, it might be me. And, I'll also send out emails to friends who may not have a text option. Yeah, but because there are so many people that I have their number but am never going to talk with again, I'm deleting them. I may be left with about 10 people on my contacts list, but hey, that's what cutting fat is all about.

One last thing before I go get my car winterized for these harsh winters up north, days off are hard work. It's not easy keeping busy for 9 hours during the day. I accomplished three errands in about an hour, and I even walked to all of those places. Then, drove to do the fourth, which took 10 minutes, and then managed to do another while on the phone in the comfort of my own home. It's only 3 p.m. and once I get my oil changed, I'm afraid my only errands are a hot bath and reading Rolling Stone.

Death By Dessert

Warning: I took DayQuil so this post may be a little loopy.

My Thanksgiving 2005, Dickinson, ND:

I slept in, which was awesome, since I stayed up a little late on Wednesday. I showered and went to go get my turkey. I ordered a Thanksgiving meal for 8-10 people for just me. Already I have had two full Thanksgiving dinners, and a grilled cheese with turkey sandwich, and I've not even made a dent in it. Tomorrow, I'm going to make turkey noodle soup, with homemade noodles. How's that for a little Sally-homemaker?

Um, so yeah, I got the turkey dinner, and I even figured out how to work my oven (long story - someday when I have no other post to make, I'll tell the world how much I love my oven), and then I realized that I didn't have anything to cook my turkey in. Oops. Thankfully, KMart was open. Hooray!

Then, basically I spent the afternoon talking on the phone. Thank you to everyone who called to wish me a Happy Turkey Day. Oh, and I watched Point Break. Then, more time on the phone. Then, I watched two movies that my friend Pete lent me. They were Best In Show and Starship Troopers. Best in Show was freaking hilarious. I liked it a lot more than I thought I would and I'm kind of surprised I never watched it before. And Starship Troopers, well, it was interesting. My favorite part was that Doogie Howser was in it. And any time you can have a Busey in a movie, I'm all for it. And, then I went to bed so I could work on Friday. Bummer.

Oh, as per my post's title, I have a very funny story about how I injured myself on Thanksgiving. For my birthday I made Special K bars. And on Thanksgiving I decided to (finally) throw them away, and found that they were stuck to the pan. So I was chiseling away at them. And I chiseled a little more and then a little too hard and punched my Special K bars. I thought nothing of it. Then, I got distracted doing something else and noticed my right ring finger was actually bleeding from my fight with the bars. On Friday, I noticed a bruise. That's right, I got my ass kicked by a dessert.

Anyway, that was my Thanksgiving. And for the next couple of weeks, everyday will be a lot like this Thanksgiving: turkey dinners, movies, and phone calls.

OH! And wine. I had wine. I had special wine from Door County. And, it was so disappointing. I remembered the Cranbernet to be a lot better than this bottle was. It was perhaps the saddest part of Thanksgiving. Special wine is not supposed to be worse than cheap wine.

Real Quick

Okay, I need to post about my oh-so-exciting Thanksgiving day, but I really want to shower first, so you dudes will just have to wait a half-hour.

But before I forget I wanted to post this: My cats woke me up at 9:30 on a Saturday morning, so they could eat. That's about normal for them, but I couldn't fall back asleep so I started to read Portnoy's Complaint (I know, I know it should take two hours to read, not two weeks), and then I got distracted by Saturday morning television. There's this show on the Disney Channel, and apparently on ABC this morning, called Kim Possible. It's not particularly good, but it was better than watching The Birdcage. And anyway, at one point in the show, Kim says, "Weiner, yes. Little, no." She was talking about dogs, but still, don't you think someone should have caught that and perhaps changed the breed of dog? Is it just me?

I'm not going to eat tomorrow, because I'm going to be a supermodel

Other than seeing Harry Potter, my weekend was not very eventful.

Well, Sunday, I did go for a walk with infamous co-worker Stefanie Briggs, and I watched Collateral (finally) while I did laundry.

So, instead of a real post, we'll relive the glory days gone past.

I don't even know if I ever shared these lovely photos with anybody, but back in the day at Scrapbook Retailer, I was considered quite hip enough to be a supermodel for famous designer, Sue Dreamer. For as hilarious the idea of me being a model is, I was quite honored to be selected. Ms. Dreamer is one of the coolest little ladies I have ever met, and she lives outside of Boston, which earns her major props.

Anyway, last year in February, there were a few progressive people in the scrapbook industry who thought it a good idea to get out of the box of scrapbookers being seen as boring soccer moms, so they did a fashion show, using all sorts of scrapbooking products. There must exist pictures somewhere of the truly fantastic paper dresses, or dresses made of gloves. And, while mine is more embellishments, it was a pretty hip little outfit I got to wear. In case you were wondering, I have to point out three things: 1. I walked down the runway to "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" 2. I made the little thing around my wrist myself (by cutting up a fishnet sock), as well as putting some sticky string on my own shoes (not pictured). 3. Yes, that is Leeza Gibbons talking to me (I told her she looked gorgeous in that dress, and she said she most of the time felt like the little punk-rocker that I looked like.) The only other thing I'll say about the whole experience was the fact that while I should have been awkward and nervous, I was completely at ease, and I did a damn fine job of modeling. Not that I'll have the funds or the means to get to Vegas for this year's show, I'd love to go again. Hooray for supermodels!

Moral Fiber

First, I not only spend too much time with myself, I also spend too much with my cats. And the past couple days I've actually gotten letters in the mail, and it seems Bunny is in love with the envelope glue. I'm not sure if he's getting high or what, but he's a super big fan of it. Should I be concerned?

Second, and more importantly, I saw Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire tonight. F-ing kicked Ass! God, more than anything, though, I need to see a movie like this in Boston, or really any major metropolitan where I don't have to be surrounded by, ugh, kids. It's awful. They don't shut up through the whole movie; they make ridiculous comments that show how truly unlearned they really are. And, Lord knows I'm a talker, but my word, these kids just keep going. There was a high point when the kid next to me (I forget the scene, but it was near the end), who couldn't have been older than 13 goes, "W-T-F." So finally that little witicism has spread all the way to rural Dickinson and it make my day a little brighter to know that kids on the street may understand me when I scream it at them for trying to jaywalk.

Oh, but the movie. I definitely need repeated viewings. From my little knowledge on directing, I'd say they did fine. I'd further say that I forget most of what happened in book 4 and so it seemed pretty much in order with the book. And well, I almost cried at the end when Diggory dies.

I know I'm lame (but I think this song is about me, don't i, don't i...), oh, um, lame, because it's totally a movie that ain't too proud to admit it's about moral fiber and love. That's it. And while I want to say it's cheap and too black and white, I don't think it is at all. I think it's masterfully done; it's not too moral-heavy. It's an exciting movie that reminds you that moral fiber is nothing to be ashamed of, and well, love may really conquer all.

I absolutely mean all of that, but I say it with a grain of salt. I mean, I'm like totally bitter and single now, and well, I have so much moral fiber that I spent most of the movie thinking some pretty unholy things about some pretty fine looking 15-year-olds. Just kidding, but only kind of.

Finally, before I go off to watch Mr. Show (on TBS because when I ordered the disc from Netflix, it was literally almost broken in half and had taken a week to get to my house, bastards), I have obviously sort of figured out how to get a couple of pictures on my computer, and I even think that I can scan the ones of me swimming, but I can't for the love of g-d figure out how in the hell I add my picture to my profile. Even worse, I downloaded that Hello thing Blogger tells me to do, and I still have no idea how to actually get a picture of me online. Any help would be appreciated, and I'm staring you down pretty hard, Schreiner.

Good Night, kiddies.

A Soulmate (and finally the third music rant)

In my own special way, I am an unwed mother. I have two children, and you've seen pictures of them. I call them Dixie and Bunny (a minor improvement, I know). Tonight, I was getting ready to clean up their litter box, when I thought while I was in the basement, I may as well put my clothes in the dryer, so I did that first.

Bunny, ever the curious cat, started playing in the empty bag. And when he knew I was coming to use it, he panicked. He started to run, but his head was already in the bag. So by running all he did was put his little head through one of the bag loops. And then that freaked him out more. So then I started chasing him to get the bag off his head. So then he freaked out more. He ended up running around the house twice. In a weird sort of way, he looked like a super hero cat with a plastic bag cape. He ended up freezing on the way down the stairs and I was able to safely get the bag off of his head. By this time, I was laughing so hard and oblivious to where I was that I ended up hitting my head on the ceiling above the stairs. We're like a clumsy pair made in heaven. And we're pretty awkward looking too.

Anyway, my last music rant: Green Day.

I know what you're thinking. And you're right. American Idiot is an awesome album that has been played into the ground. A year later the music is still writing all the same shit they wrote last year after the album came out. We get it. It's a good album. I say all of this with a grain of salt, of course, because part of me realizes the impact that Green Day's album has had on today's youth (and okay, maybe some 24-year-old chicks, as well). But what I think is so f-ing amazing about the new album and its impact, is the fact that 10 years ago, Green Day did the same thing with Dookie.

Okay, so Dookie is a little childish and immature, but I was 10 years ago too. And well, really, I still am. Over the course of the years since Dookie's release, I still occasionally like to put the album on and rock out with my cock out. It's a damn good album to listen to when you're feeling like things are shit and will probably continue to be shit but you're not about to get up off the couch and do something about it. So you scream along with Green Day. Along with all that, in my more lucid moments, I also realize that in listening to that album at age 13, I exposed to some horribly cynical music and totally affected how I think about the world today. Part of me knows that I've grown up since then, but another part of me feels like I'll always be that 13-year-old listening to songs like "Longview" where I can't be bothered to do anything. And, you know, there was also Nirvana, with such happy songs as "Dumb."

Is it any wonder I'm absolutely insane these days? And do I maybe think a little too hard about all this?

And completely off the subject: I think I may have discovered how to add pictures. Now that I can do that, and I have pictures from over a year ago I've wanted to share, please expect a few blogs about really old pictures, and some of my experiences under water. Yay for sharing pictures!

A Wedding and A Funeral

I don't know how awful of language one can use on a blog, so I'll try to edit myself. On Saturday, my boss got married. It was interesting, mostly because I haven't been to a wedding since I was under 16 years of age, which means it's been almost 10 years. So, it was at a Lutheran Church. I don't think I've ever been to one before, but I found that the prayers, etc. weren't all that different. Turns out Martin Luther didn't want to step that far out of the bounds of Catholicism. But, the boss, being a writer, wrote some pretty decent vows, and it was sort of sweet. If I wasn't such a cynical bastard, I probably would have appreciated it more. Being that I don't believe in the institution of marriage, I don't really care that much to see some meaningless vows. So, there's that.

The funeral, well, I actually didn't attend one. But really, if there is anything that I hope rests in peace, it's the fact that I broke up (or whatever) with Dallas. I know that most of you are disappointed and many of you might be sad, but frankly, if you know me, I'm a commitment-phobe, so it is what I was bound to do.

I'm not the sort of person who ends relationships well so I counted on my co-workers to go out with me and help me with the fact that I'm a heartless bitch (my words, not his). They were there for me and for that I love them. For the rest, I count on Belle and Sebastian to bring me home with "Don't Leave the Light on, Baby" and "The Wrong Girl."

Hooray for horribly sappy music.

OH GOD, and I forgot to call Shayna, so if you're out there in Virginia, please forgive me. I really am just insane this week. I will call you sometime this week or I'll call you next weekend. I'm sorry.

Also, Robyn Salbo, not that you have yet discovered my blog, but thank you for your letter. I will return one much more half-assed than that. :) Love you all.

Love Rant (Part II)

The Decemberists
This goes back about a week. Okay, maybe a little more than that. What happened was I have been listening to The Decemberists' Picaresque since the day it came out, just a little bit. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I put the CD back in my car. Since then, it hasn't stayed out of the little player for more than a couple days. I am obsessed with it. Then, I went out to eat with a few of my co-workers, and well, they thought I listened to "weird music."

In their defense, I was listening to "The Mariner's Revenge Song," which doesn't have quite the pop hook that say "16 Military Wives" or "July, July" has. Still, I was hurt.

My rant today isn't so much about how great The Decemberists are as a band, because my words could never do theirs justice. Some days I fantasize about singer Colin Meloy, only to realize that I probably couldn't even hold a conversation with him. They're almost too smart for their own good. Almost.

Anyway, my rant today is about how albums can grow on you. It's as random as love, to be all melodramatic and stuff. There are some albums I have had for years that I try to pick up again (i.e. The Beta Band's 3EPs) and find I still can't make it past the song that originally made me bought the album. There are some (i.e. Mojave 3, whose album I have I don't even remember what it's called) that I never got into at all and thus never think about putting in. Then, there's one's like Picaresque. I literally forced myself to listen to this album a few times. Thanks in no small part to Casey Schreiner, who knows better than most that like a good bottle of wine, music to can get better with age, and who told me not to give up on it yet. And here seven to eight months later, I think it's pure brilliance. From "The Engine Driver" to "The Sporting Life" there isn't one that hasn't got me singing along to it in my car. So, how does one know what's worth holding onto and which ones are worth putting in time and time again, knowing that it'll eventually click?

And, if another Decemberists album comes out, will I do the same thing? Will the next one be the one where I decide it never grows on me? Or will they all grow on me, if I give myself enough time?

My life is just filled with questions, which for a journalist, probably isn't a bad thing.

Before I conclude, I have to say how happy I am to see Schreiner hop on the blogger bandwagon around the same time as me, and it's only because of his influence that I may one day cave and hop on the MySpace bandwagon as well. Yay for Casey!

Nightswimming (A Brief Interlude)

So, yesterday. One of the girls I work with is big into sports, so every week she writes one feature story on an athlete in the region. Apparently, the state swim meet is coming up and Dickinson has a girl going (in 2 events, no less), so she got this idea that she wanted to try to take an action shot of the girl in the pool. She said the idea of her in a bathing suit is "gross" so she was looking for volunteers. Always up for a challenge and a reason to look ridiculous, I raised my hand and said, "I'll do it."

Then, as I'm changing into my swimsuit and heading out to the pool, I thanked the good lord that this girl I was photographing was in high school so she'd have no idea how absolutely under-qualified I was. And then, literally and figuratively, I jumped in the pool. We had an underwater camera and a flash, and we were going to try to get under the girl, and next to the girl and face-to-face with her. All of this meant I took 27 pictures in about 27 minutes.

I got water in my nose; I got kicked; I damn near head-butted the girl once; and I had to tread water more than I have since I was taking swimming lessons in third grade. And it was quite fun to have an entirely new (if awkward) experience.

Alas, the pictures did not turn out (damn you, one hour photo). Thankfully, I guess, it was due to the lighting situation and not the fact that I can't take pictures. And anyway, Cindy (the co-worker) and I are taking it as a learning experience to try again. Hooray for crazy but career-driven experimentation.

Musical Philosophizing and a Love Rant (Part I)

Over a month into my job, I find that I really like all of my co-workers. They're great people, as witnessed by the previous post, on Friday, almost all of us made it the same bar to hang out after work. But, after two years in Utah, I finally found someone who on a daily basis I can talk about music with. I didn't remember how long it'd been. (Oh, and not to take anything away from Nate, and other friends I can call on the phone, but it's not the same as when you have daily access.)

In Boston, I could hang out with the Slow Kids, or Shayna, or JHal, or New Robyn and rant and rant all day about our various music pretentions. And, when I started hanging out at The Model, you couldn't turn around without bumping into someone who was pretentious and willing to rant about what's the hippest music, movie, etc. Then, in Utah, I met a number of Nate's friends who were pretentious about music, but seriously, anyone who says the Mars Volta is the only great band of our generation obviously has very little sense of what's good. That's not to say Utah didn't have it's perks. I was able to introduce the Postal Service to Jen, who's since been told that the music is perfect for her (not by me). I was able to introduce the Shins, and have my own "New Slang" from Garden State moment with Dallas. That's always a good feeling.

Here, my friend Pete, is your typical High Fidelity type of music person. Out of the blue, he'll say something like "Have you ever noticed the greatness of track 2s from an album?" Meaning something along the lines of, it seems track three is the one meant to be on the radio but there's something great about the ones that aren't radio-friendly. He's since challenged me to make such an album. Now, he's a sports writer, he thinks in terms of stats, etc. But me, I'm really bad at that sort of thing. I can barely remember the names of songs I like on any given record so I'm very unlikely to remember which track number it is. That being said, I am absolutely excited to be thinking about music like I used to.

Of course, once my mind gets rolling, I can't shut it up, so I've been thinking about three bands that currently get my panties in a bundle, and so that I can subject everyone to my opinion, without further ado, I'm going to tell you about those bands and give my very own Love Rant. Because I have a busy lifestyle (or rather because I'd like to pretend I do), I am going to do it in three parts.

1. Wilco - I know, I know, I've been in love with Wilco for some time so it should come as no shock, but as of late, I've been putting all of their albums into heavy rotation again. I, of course, could never comment on which is their best. I know my favorite is Summerteeth, but there's just too much good stuff to ever say what is the best. But right now, A Ghost Is Born is really making me think about music on an emotional level: meaning that they do a really good job of conveying their message through just the music, not just the lyrics. Casey and I once were talking about Sonic Youth and that they're just noise, and yet critics eat it up. Now, I've always known that I was a bit of a music snob (okay a lot of a music snob), but with A Ghost is Born, I'm finally a believer in noise being a good use of an album's time. For instance, I'm sure it drives anyone who's heard the album insane, but the noise and reverb for like 10 minutes after "Less Than You Think" is, to me, emphasizing the point that there's not a lot to this music thing that Jeff Tweedy has going for him. And on "Handshake Drugs" and into "Wishful Thinking" Tweedy ends a song about drug use in a haze of noise showing the great oblivion of the drugs, but then bounces out of it on a song where you're hoping for your world to get a little bit better. There's a lot of other reasons why this album is to be cherished, not least of which are the digs at the music industry ("Company in my Back" and "The Late Greats"). All I can say about Wilco is their live album is out and if that means I have to forgo eating to purchase it, I will, and I'm waiting with bated breath for the next album that Rolling Stone assures me is coming soon (They also say that Barack Obama is a fan of Wilco and Uncle Tupelo; now I'm not sure if that's politics to make Mr. Obama look cool, but he's already so hip that I'd buy that he really is a fan, which in fact ups his already cool persona.)

On Being 24+

So, if you haven't called me in a week, you probably don't know (and YET probably aren't surprised to know) that I had an eventful birthday weekend.

On Friday, I thought I'd be classy and attend a wine tasting. Being in North Dakota, I thought, this will be lame and old men. OH, the wine tasting was at an Elks Club. God, am I amazing! Anyway, after the tasting was over, they had half-full bottles of wine. Being a moocher, I totally stole one. Then, I drank a lot, and then I called co-workers, and then I got sick, and then the co-workers arrived. Awesome!

Then, Saturday I did very little except sleep.

On Sunday, it was my ever-so-unexciting-24th-birthday. I actually had a few people over from work, so it was fun. Plus, I played house-frau and cooked a decent meal for everyone. I didn't think I drank too much, but some parts of the night are sort of blurry.

This week at work was, ugh, I don't even know how to describe it. It wasn't bad, but I feel like I accomplished very little. So, in celebration, we went to a country bar with karaoke. That was awesome.

I got drunk enough to sing in front of people, but I sang the one of the few songs available on karaoke that I love more than anything and know most of the words to, and that is Lisa Loeb's
"Stay." Because I was the last person to sing, or because I am such a terrible singer you need to laugh at me twice, they honest-to-god did an encore of my song, so I had to see myself in all my ridiculous glory. What a great evening!

Anyway, all's I can say now, is I might be an official North Dakotan, but I need my pookie bear so much.