i'm a man loving cowboy

Have you ever visited the site myheritage.com?
You put a picture of yourself on the site and it tells you which celebrity you look like. So in all my boredom at work, I put mine in. I quickly took my picture at 5:45 PM, after all day working and 4 nights of sleep deprivation and I sent in the file. Waiting...waiting...oh crap.
Apparently I look like Jake Gyllenhall. A man. I guess I shouldn't complain. I mean, I think he's hot. Not to mention he's best friends with Lance Armstrong and Matthew Mcwhatever. But do I really look like a man?
















It's not all bad, though. I also match this lovely lady, Bette Midler:

lazy days

Sometimes you just need a day to yourself.

Living in the barracks, which is a dorm style building, that is often hard to accomplish. People just want someone to talk to or hang out with and because we are all in such close proximity, a persons door will be knocked on atleast 3 times a night. It's kind of annoying, especially if you are:
a) taking a bath
b) taking a nap
c) trying to watch a movie
d) trying to play guitar
e) pretty much everything else, too

Last night, however, I only got two knocks, which were both necessary. One was because I had borrowed someones car keys and they needed their car. The other was to make dessert waffles. When is it not necessary to eat dessert waffles? mmm, they were so good with my yummy raspberry jam shmeared all over. They bring me back to crepe days with fun people like Heathbar, Bear, and my "soon to be fat" sister Jenny. Thanks to all who have made me crepes, especially when they put real whipping cream on top. And peach pie filling....

So here is what I was able to accomplish in my room despite the necessary knocks:
1. watched 3 episodes of Friends (season 3, disc 3--one of my favorites which is the one where nobody goes skiing)
2. play guitar. I'm honing my skills on "the wind" by cat stevens, "upward over the mountain" by iron and wine, "green eyes" by coldplay and "love at first feel" originally sung by acdc. And I'm gettin good.
3. take 3 hour nap.
4. talk to my mom AND mark. Oh, AND Larsbien. Hi Larsie!
5. talk to heathbar and Joto online. mainly heddo, cause she's the obvious cool one of that union. you know its true, jay.
6. study spanish. necesito un profesor!!

I had a good day. It was so good, in fact, that it lasted until 2 AM.

Leslie. What's your deal?

Does anyone listen to Kings of Convenience? If you answered no, first of all: don't tell anybody! you don't want that kind of information leaking out. Second of all, stop reading this blog because you're just not going to care.

So I really love the vocal stylings of this Norwegian duo. Akin to Simon and Garfunkel, with the obvious influence of such musical strongholds as Belle and Sebastian, Nico, and I would daresay (whether they know it or not)Nick Drake.
They crank out these smooth, intimately harmonic songs accompanied by their lyrical whisperings, sometimes with the help of collaborator, Leslie Feist. Her voice is immensely sweet and ethereal, blending with the other voices and guitar as if they all emerged simultaneouly from the same womb. Check out my favorites: The Build Up, and Know-How. They are both amazing.

Here's my beef. Leslie Feist has such a beautiful voice and is amazingly talented. So why, when she solo-ed it, did she make such a crappy record? Her voice is great, but the lyrics are awful and the tunes remind me of dentist office music that you really just wish you could tune out. Her one saving grace is "Piste 1" and maybe, MAYBE mushaboom. I get so upset when such people with such amazing talent squander it away for a crappy record.

So here is my plea: Kings of Convenience, will you please write a record for Leslie Feist? She wants to be a great musician, she really does. It's not her fault that whoever wrote her record sucked the big one. Or maybe it is, which would push me to change my plea to: Leslie Feist, please stop writing your own records. For the good of the people.

I'll just keep listening to Cat Power while I wait for this miracle to be made manifest. Chan never disappoints. Except when she cancels her tour.

Eradicate beds! Find a davenport!

So my friend got a couch last night that we moved to the third floor of the barracks I live in. Just so we're all clear, the couch was rather large and fluffy, a tricky davenport, for you Canooks.
We first had to move it into the elevator, where I was smushed into the corner by the arm of the fluffy couch. We manuvered it like a two player game of tetris. I was amazed that it even fit in the elevator. I would've never TRIED the elevator because the mere idea seemed so silly. But there we were, with the couch, and we moved it at 1 in the morning, up the elevator, down the hall, into a small barracks room where it occupies a majority of the southeasterly corner. Once it was positioned, I flung my weakling body on the green expanse of foamed heaven. Mind you, I haven't sat in a nice cushiony couch in months, so it was really a treat for me. I proceeded to fall asleep on the couch and had the best night of sleep I've had in months. Which brings me to my next question:

Why do people have beds? Why don't they just sleep on couches? It never fails that I always fall asleep faster on a big couch than in my own flat, non-armchaired bed. I'm just sayin.

hooked on a feeling

Lance Bass is out of the closet.

I'm fairly certain that we all knew this was coming. I mean, he was in the premier boy band for years. I would go become gay, too, if I was constantly gyrating around 4 other sweaty guys.
But, seriously, how could it be a front page story on People Magazine? I don't really think being gay merits a cover story on one of the most popular smut reads in America. Maybe if it was 1979 or even 1993, when being gay was still taboo, it would make headlines round the world. But now, and especially in "showbiz", being gay is comparable to...oh i don't know...throwing up after you eat. Everyone does it. Everyone KNOWS everyone else does it, but nobody talks about it. So why do you get a medal when you admit to something that everybody else does anyway?

I don't get it.

What do all the other n'sync-er's think about this?
Justin "I date hot girls" Timberlake supports him, but lets be honest, couldn't care less. He's sleeping with Cameron Diaz for crying out loud.
Joey "I'm the fat one cause thats what my last name says" Fatone is developing a sitcom called 'The Odd Couple' with his chum, Lance. My guess is it's about a chubby italian man who lives with a fancypants moon-bound pretty boy.
Chris Kirkpatrick. Which one was he?
JC "Jerry Curl" Chavez is still playing his role as MTV hotshot, but everyone is well aware of his decline in Hollywood. He dated Eva Longoria, she dumped him for a NBA star...where do you go from there? Nowhere but down, my friends. He will comment on Lance's sexual preference only as a ploy to be heard in the tabloids again.

signage destruction

I live on an army base right now. My job is a government job and is stationed on an army base. They also allow us to live in BLM barracks, so we are around a lot of other army people. For the past couple of weeks, signs and posters have been appearing on fences along the main road for soldiers coming home. Handpainted signs saying "welcome home daddy" and "i'm so proud of you" and my personal favorite "i missed my hottie, come home to me so i can hold your body". Thats clever.

Anyway probably well over 200 signs were up on the fences, wives, girlfriends and children waiting for their soldiers to come home from Iraq. They were due to come home this weekend, until everyone found out today that they are being sent back on another tour and never even made it home. They are out for another 6 months. All that excitment and build-up over nothing. Today, all of the wives were outside, tearing up signs with reddened eyes, tears streaming down their faces as their hopes were crushed. The husbands and fathers who were almost home free are once again putting their lives at risk for the "good of our country".

There are a few ladies I work with whose husbands were due to come home and now they are completely crushed. I can't imagine how emotionally heavy that would be. They were just crying in their cubicles and ended up leaving early. God bless all the men who risk their lives and God bless the women and children who are left alone because of a senseless war.

I don't know, Margot...

I've been reembracing my past recently. The days of Aaron McRoy, Dan Kirk, Mylissa Wood, etc. are resurfacing in different forms. I've passed the line of just "going to church" and moved into the realm of "hanging out with Mormons". What a difference 3 days make. Does any of this sound familiar? Bonfires that end at 11, mud football games, dances where people step around like 5 year olds and their mouths are either wide open as if to say "I'm so crazy with my awesome dance moves" or they are sporting the white man's overbite, large scale eating of pastas, cheap pastries, and ice cream, not to mention card playing and ping pong.
I love mormon fun.

So I was invited to dinner the other night where they were serving spaghetti. I pulled the cook to the side and quietly asked her if the sauce had meat in it, to which she robustly responded "no! there's no meat in the sauce. are you vegetarian?" And of course, 8 heads swing my way to wait for the answer. And the questions/comments ensued. "Why are you a vegetarian?" "Do you eat fish?" "I've never met a vegetarian before". It was actually rather hilarious.

But, hilarious or not, I hate attracting attention to myself on matters which I prefer not to discuss out in the open. Being asked what you believe and your reasons for your creeds and ethos is a very personal thing that not many people TRULY care to hear. So I give the readers digest version, which is a cheat for me and the listener. Basically unless you're ready to discuss political and relgious views, don't ask somebody why they have the beliefs they do.

I picked more raspberries last night. The jam is coming, but I have to figure out first how to get all the bugs and worms out of the fruit.


This guy I work with has let me borrow his Kona cruiser to ride around town for the next couple of weeks while he is in California. It's such a nice pedal bike! Last night I cruised over to the grocery store, backpack in tow, and packed it full of food and drink. It was so heavy, the ride back was a little rough, but I felt great about being self-reliant, as well as environmentally conscious. I love communities that are small enough to ride bikes around.

I will try to take more pictures of cool things and post them. I forget sometimes that I have an awesome camera that was born to capture my lifes moments. Thus, I will take advantage and keep it close by my side. Maybe I'll even develop shutter finger.

these shnozberries taste like shnozberries

I love raspberries! They are growing behind my house right now and I spent last night and today picking them. You know it's a good day if you spend your entire lunch hour picking deliciously sweet raspberries!

After work...in 1 1/2 hours, I am going to ride my bike to the store, buy some good sugar, and make some jam, post haste. And while I'm eating my pb and J sandwich, I will be thinking of you, Heather Rickter.

Santa, you could use a new coat of paint

Remember fantasizing about the North Pole as a child? Imagining all the dancing elves in the pointy shoes and the reindeer clomping about with jingling sleigh bells strewn around their neck, wondering what fabulous gifts were being made especially for you at santa's workshop. The North Pole had to be an enchanting land, with its barber striped pole serving as the landmark to every child's dreams.

I saw this North Pole last night, and it was a sad, sad lonely place.

North Pole, Alaska. A huge paper-maiche santa clause, two depressed and emaciating reindeer, even the McDonalds pole was decorated with a red ribbon to serve as a beacon of holiday cheer. The windows are shot out in ithe safeway store, there are more bars than gas stations, one appropriately referred to as "The Elves Den". Because I'm sure everyone in that bar had atleast three of the following: a beard, permanently "rosy" cheeks, a penchant for merriment, and a keen patron of all things make believe.

Despite all these dismal Christmas blues, there was one item that saves the town from complete uselessness. That would be the mailbox from which you can send letters that are postmarked from "The North Pole". I don't care who you are, that'll bring joy to anyones heart. Even if it is two sizes too small.

drama queen...or king

It was late.
10 o' clock in the evening and the darkness was beginning to creep in. There was a stagnant feeling the room, smelling of death. Foretelling the impending doom that was sure to come upon us all.
Enter Neil.


He's a tough Tiger Barb. Got a little bit of a past. Some have referred to him as a homicidal maniac. We all believed that he did commit the heinous Cainal crime, but nobody was willing to confirm. I found his brother, Stan, belly up in his fish bowl last week, with Neil swimming ever-so innocently by the marbles. So of course, all fingers pointed to Neil as the killer. Until last night.
After a session of ear candling, I walked over to say hello to Neil and read another chapter from Dostoyevsky and realized he was lifeless. Like a stiff board, he was floating at the bottom of the bowl, hanging on for his life. His mouth moved every ten seconds, the only sign of life I saw coming from him. I knew drastic measures needed to be taken and it was now or never. After a sweaty bike ride with empty bottles in tow, I filled up the his newly clensed bowl with fresh spring water. We watched, for what seemed like hours until (5 seconds later) his tail began to flip around. He began to swim freely throughout the bowl. Neil was ALIVE! I witnessed new life being breathed into him, via clean Culligan. This was the closest I've ever come to seeing anyone bounce back after being on the brink of death. It was inspiring.

Neil is a fighter. If you want something bad enough, you will put on the show to be noticed. I'm pretty sure he has ulterior motives. Something along the lines of "taking over the world".

Good luck to you Neil, and godspeed.

Is that fax machine subsidized?

Graduating from college has afforded me the luxury of accepting a government job as a receptionist, working with lovely people.

All the intricate innerworkings that make an office an office plague me as a receptionist. We've got all the token characters needed to complete the scene, everyone perfectly casted and ever ready to add to the mundanely entertaining plot.



Because I have positioned myself in the hub of the community, I am poised to be the recipient of all gossip, witness the small flirtations exchanged between two lusty coworkers, and feel a sense of duty to count the pieces of candy each person steals from the jar.
Here's a snippet of conversations heard on a regular basis:
A: How are you this fine morning?
me: (any response at all--could be 'wonderful!' or 'my dog just died' and it would get the same response from person A)
A: That's terrific.

B: Mmmm....candy! (sifting thru to see the options) What do I want?
me: *looking blankly at them--hmmm...good question.
B: (Then replies with one of the following)--1. It's that time of the day again! (nervous laughter) 2. I need my fix!(nervous laughter) or 3. (nervous laughter) Ahh...(candy unwrapping, pop candy in mouth, walk away)

As an anthropologist, I believe I have been conditioned to observe and evalute these behaviors within the office. I'm still in the observing phase, I will try and evalute and compile my results for later discussion.

Blunders of my office career thus far:
1. As the daily flag raiser, I'm bound to make mistakes, especially after a late night.





2. Answering the phone "Dominos Pizza, may I take your order?
3. Forgetting to lock the doors, shut off the lights, and turn off the phones at the end of the day.
4. Getting in trouble for watching world cup game on my computer. (It's only on every 4 years! What do you want from me?)
5. Agreeing to be the office bitch, taking on everyones work, then having them demand it be finished. I'm only one woman.

Oh well, atleast I can drown my sorrows in the lyrical melodies of my iPod. Thanks Dad.