and now for the greatest thing i saw on tv this week:

as i was flipping channels last night, i came across the fantastic south korean live-action and yet so anime flick hwasango recently re-born on mtv as Volcano High. it's everything you want in cgi-filled matrix-y comic book romp: the totally punk rock high school characters duke it out for supremacy after the leader of the dark oxen, jang yang, frames the kick-ass head boy for attempted murder and unleashes chaos on volcano high. flourescent hair, hot schoolgirls, gravity-defying martial arts sequences and "the school 5: masters of suppressing school wrongdoing" a group of kick-ass substitute teachers brought in to clean up the mess and who do so by jumping into your subconscous ("how DARE you day-dream in my class!!!). there's even a little love story thrown in for the chicks. all this...combined with a rap soundtrack AND the voices are dubbed over by the likes of andre 3000, snoop dogg, kelis, mya and method man.

god bless you, mtv. god bless you.


i'm gonna kill ALL those, um, guys!

Congratulations! You're Haldir!

Which Lord of the Rings character and personality problem are you?
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well. what can i say? when you're right, you're right.


no longer do the dance of joy, numfar!

and now for a rather lengthy email exchange between myself and the hottest redhead i know, ryan weadon. it all started with my mass email exposing my eeevil plan, the last bit of which was as follows:

--- "ahe" wrote:
so, if i knew i was taking my brother, why didn't i call off the competition? well, because this made it a lot more fun for me. see, because then people would get all excited and then taste the bitter draught of disappointment. bwah-hah-hah-hah.

ahe "and you're, what? shocked and disappointed? i'm *evil.*"

>>you know, i never truly believed in your malificence until just now.
>>can we join forces or do you work alone? i know how it difficult it can be
>>being a pure-evil extract and all. many people know me as satan or "lucifer" in
>>case you weren't aware. we could cause all sorts of mayhem if we worked
>>together. i know a lot of evil-types like to work alone, what with the
>>"cool-vigilante" thing that goes with it but hear me out. we don't have to work
>>together all the time. just on certain projects. say, inundating (deleted for confidentiality)
>>with pro-life subscriptions. or sending (deleted for confidentiality) a fake email telling her she's won
>>an orbitz contest. things of this nature. in other words, if you want to work
>>alone, fine, i'll keep to mine, you keep to yours but if you're in need of an
>>ally, i'm there girl. ready and willing to aid the forces of evil. plus, once
>>in a while, two evil heads are better than one. think about it. tootles!


--- "ahe " wrote:
you know, ryan, hithertofore, i had not even contemplated joining forces with another source of evil. i always figured that by nature i work alone and all that. sure, i've had minions, lackeys and the like, but i'm sure you understand that having paeons to order about isn't the same thing as having a true partner in mayhem. i had never, however, considered an evil
alliance on a kind of contract basis--as you said, for certain projects. i very much like this idea. it's difficult to run your nefarious schemes past hired muscle, you know? sometimes you just need the opinions and skills of another agent of evil. i would definitely be open to joining forces for future endeavors. have you given thought to throwing 100 bouncy balls on
the floor of neighbors at 11:30 on a friday night?

>>i'm glad to hear that you are interested in working together. and if your
>>suggestion, which is pure gold by the way, is any indication of the direction
>>our projects will take, that i believe we shall get along quite swimmingly. i
>>won't be in seattle again until the end of the year so unfortunately we'll have
>>to postpone our licentious shenanigans until then. but rest assured, chaos will
>>ensue. eventually. until then.


i'm finished being everybody's butt-monkey!!!

of minimal interest:

last week, a guy from the other side of the floor was chatting up the lunch room about president bush. seems the guy believes that the president is a dumb redneck asshole bent on world domination, with which i have no argument, really. then he said something about how if we found saddam and his cronies, bush would totally have the military bag 'em, bring 'em back to the states and allow for a public execution. so i said, "okay, president bush isn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but a) he's not *that* stupid and b) he doesn't want to take a trip to the hague." this statement, which i had thought slightly clever and deifnitely to the point was met with blank stares.

"the what? that hade?"

the...the hague, you guys. it's in the netherlands...the permaneant court of arbitration? international court of justice? the whole yugoslavia tribunal thing? you know, where milosevic is currently on trial? no, nothing? great.

people were like "oh...wow, you must know a lot about that stuff, huh? to know something obscure like that." what the fuck? i think that, in the tenure of our relationship, i have made it abundantly clear that i don't know shit! i'm not some current events guru and i take the news as it comes to me and i know what the hague is because i took history in high school and i read the news...i mean, how are history and current events like...obscure knowledge? assholes.

heh. and then as i was watching the news on sunday morning, george stephenopoulos (sp?) said they'd either take saddam to the hague or start up a tribunal in iraq and all i could think was, i hope those assholes at work are watching this shit right now.

president bush may be dumb, but i bet he knows what the fucking hague is.

we got 'em dirk, we got 'em

yes, yes, yes saddam hussein apprehended at last, at long last. yes, news on at 8:30, yes, president bush address at 9:15, yes, saddam does look like robert deniro in great expectations, no the war's not over. i'm not going to give you a link because you should know by now. this, however, is all of little to no import now as my psyche is still reeling over the utterly ridiculous move on my part to watch discs three to six of buffy the vampire slayer - the complete fifth season, or as i like to call it, "the ten episode stretch that makes me cry even more than that one episode of the west wing when toby fanagles a proper funeral for the homeless korean war vet with the retarded brother." (tm)

this is where it all goes wrong: riley tries to touch the dark side to get good and troubled so buffy will love him like she loved angel the spike exposes riley's vampire sucky-sucky escapades to the buff-ster who freaks, doesn't listen to riley's pleas and allows him to run off on some covert ops deep cover mission in south america until xander (my love, my sweet love xander) gives her a xander speech which melts her icy heart and she runs off to stop riley and tell him she loves him only to miss his helicopter by TWENTY SECONDS and then warren's sex robot goes berserk and teaches buffy a valuable lesson about not needing a man and then buffy goes home to find her mother DEAD and calls out to her "mom....mom...mommy?" and we all start crying and then buffy tells dawn who falls to the floor in anguish and we all cry harder and then just when we think we've cried enough, we cut to willow, crying and we cry more and then xander and anya come over and anya asks inapproproate questions because her ex-demon self doesn't know how to handle death and she cries and we all cry more and harder and then dawn tried a resurrection spell to bring her mom back, but she and buffy have a tearful, heartfelt talk, during which we cry, and dawn reverses the spell and then glorificus discovers that dawn is, in fact, the key, but not before she's sucked tara's brains and willow cries and we cry and then glory kidnaps dawn and her minions start dawn's blood to flowing to open the interdimensional portal, thus throwing all of existence into total chaos, so buffy sacrifices her life to save the world and she DIES and everybody cries and we cry and it's all very, very sad.

but they bring buffy back to life in season six, so it'll all get better soon, but still, i think the sentiment is real.



abercrombie and fitch has finally pulled their sickeningly sexist, rascist, not even thinly-veiled porn mag.

in the immortal words of wynn rankin: eat this shit, yo.

damn youse guys! damn all of youse!

jason, seriously, jason. i'm going to kill you. i just kicked my online shopping habit and now you've got me hooked on silly quizilla.

as god is my witness, you will pay big.

You are Welcome to the Monkey House!
You're Welcome to the Monkey House! You're a
political activist, or the opposite of it, as
you see the problems in our world. You're
something of a pessimist, but you're just so
damn funny that no one can resist you. You're
an alternative person, you don't work in the
normal "novel" way, but it works for
you. You'd enjoy anything Vonnegut ever wrote,
like Slaughterhouse-5, Hocus Pocus, or Cat's

Which Piece of Classic Literature are You?
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i am an american aquarium drinker

ah, monday, the day of random, broken thoughts. the first being that, ever since nick honomichl and i had a discussion on our mutual love for nu/alt-country/bluegrass, i haven't been able to take dolly parton's halos and horns out of my walkman and the awesomeness that is wilco (and did i mention resting my weary butt during wilco's set at bumbershoot in 2002 five seats away from janeane garafalo? did i?) out of my cd-rom drive. oh windows media player, what would i do without you?

next and speaking of country/bluegrass--i was watching the old VH1 Big in 2003 awards (which is apparently an awards show for the sake of having another awards show), and one of the awards was like best quote or something..and they gave it to natalie maines for her remark to a london audience that she was ashmamed that the president was from texas. i'm sure you all remember the rhubarb that followed: many radio stations pulled their songs, cds were burned, epithets were hurled. bill maher (who i want to punch right in his big, fat libertarian mouth mouth on most other occasions) presented the award to maines saying that she took the heat with grace and turned it into a stand for personal freedom, which i agree with. good on her, honestly. in her acceptance speech, she went on to say "i want to thank all the haters, because you make me strong, empowered, involved and proud. and i thought you might like to know that we have a new CD and a DVD...which is great for y'all because you can burn one and stomp on the other." hah. awesome.

there is one thing troubling, however--i STILL don't understand what the big fucking deal is...i mean, she said something mean about the president...and something relatively benignly negative at that. i have heard way worse things coming out of the mouths of npr commentators, politicians and the entire staff of the daily show with jon stewart. hell, i was at one of those special pearl jam shows at the showbox this year and eddie vedder was onstage in a bush mask, covered in blood...i think. something like that. is the only reason this is such a big deal is that the dixie chicks sing country music? is that it? was there this giant backlash because their core audience tends towards republican convervatism more than the audience of, oh say, bright eyes? because if that's true, that has to be the dumbest fucking thing i have ever heard. there is no real reason this crap should have gotten into the national news cycle. but it did. wonderful.

mmm. speaking of music...like grandpa simpson, i used to be with it...but then they changed what it was. also on this VH1 show, matchbox twenty played a song that has apparently been number 1 for 22 weeks and sold a bazillion copies and blah di blah. right. i have so NEVER heard this song. ever. in fact, i kinda thought matchbox twenty had stopped making music because nobody likes their crap. (the lead singer has a hot voice, though. he should sing alt-coutry. i'd buy that.)

oh, and lastly: i TOTALLY wanted to watch the new sci-fi channel cersion of battlestar galatica...until i found out that starbuck is now a girl. STARBUCK IS A GIRL!?!?!?! wha-huh-whuh? first of all, starbuck is CLEARLY a boy's name and second...what the fuck? starbuck is not a girl! i hate the sci-fi channel. bastards.


some degrading psalm of praise

just in case you were wondering, my perfect emo singer boyfriend would be:

Conor Oberst from Bright Eyes

*Who is the perfect Emo Singer boyfriend for You?*
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now, while i love conor oberst and desesparicidos and bright eyes there is no goddamn way i'm going to have some skinny whiny emo kid boyfriend.

gosh, he is cute though isn't he? and he gave me the title of this blog, so i reckon it's appropriate that he be my honey.


i have a delicate system

so thanksgiving with the fam was pretty fun. in retrospect, it was a bad move to spend the previous night with all those seattle assholes, drinking and partaking of illegal substances because i was running on 45 minutes of sleep and a tragically bad hangover. luckily, the food was good enough to cut through the cotton mouth, especially the yummy special stuffing my grandfather makes. it’s magic, i swear. one stuffing to rule them all.

yes. my little brothers were very excited to see me, which they expressed by either ignoring me and watching ESPN or by asking me to play every board game in the house, followed by every card game known to man, at which, i swear to god, they cheated, the tricksy hobbitses. oh, and my 16-year old brother has apparently recently discovered both sarcasm and irony—for which he will pay dearly.

on saturday, my mother forced me, i mean, asked if i wanted to spend the day shopping for my christmas presents. for those of you who don’t know, my parents give us money, have us pick out our presents and then hide them in their closets until they show up under the tree signed “santa.” this has both positive and negative aspects, namely that i get to pick what i want…but i can’t fucking have it until christmas…which really isn’t that bad, seeing as how patience is one of my main virtues. and by “patience is one of my main virtues,” i mean “my lack of patience is world-renowned.” mom dragged my ass halfway around the state and back and all i really have to show for it is a coat, some sweaters and about 85 dvds (and i want to watch maison ikkoku right fucking now).

the only excitement I got was on the way home. my flight was cancelled, so I had to spend another night there…then I couldn’t get a flight out until 2:00 the next day and it had a connecting in oakland, which was, naturally, delayed, because, why wouldn’t it be, huh? and then, on the flight to seattle, the turbulence was so bad that I almost threw up, seriously, i had the bag out and all. i suppose it was a good thing, focusing on potentially vomiting, considering that it took my attention off of potentially dying. so, that was nice, i guess.

and now i’m back at work. woo-hoo.

and, if i may continue with a total non sequitur: i’m going to take a cue from ryan “sexy pants” weadon and end this email with a little contest. as you know, i have a spare ticket for that LOTR fiasco on December 16th (starting at 1:00 PM)…so, shoot me an email and tell me not why YOU deserve it, but why everyone else on this list DOESN’T deserve it. i’ll pick the best, put it to a vote and let you know the winner post haste.

the lesson is: never try...

i just got back in to work after a long, long weekend and i can't write a fat entry now, but this must be said, by me: i just checked my hotmail acocunt for the first time since wednesday and WHAT THE FUCK?!?! it's all different and shit and i fucking hate it...i don't care what those asshole munchkins on the chicken mcnuggets commercial say, change is NOT good, goddammit.

change it back!!!


i'm not tense, just terribly, terribly alert

i have nothing to report. just wanted to get the above quote down before i forgot it.


what we need to do is invent bombs that destroy ideas...

ah, the butterfly effect.

i flapped my wings over jonathon brandis' death and that started a chain reaction that led to liz's post, my subsequent comments and now to kelly's flowing cascade of persnickety stories.

in brief: persnickety is the nickname of a particularly abominable young man with whom i went to college. among his less desirable traits: excessive spitting while speaking and incessant nostril-spelunking. kelly has set the bar pretty high for persnickety stories, so please forgive me if mine isn't quite up to snuff.

junior year, liz, kelly and i lived with two lighthouse girls named...the blonde and the brunette. the brunette, apparently, had been beseiged with persnickety's romantic advances for the better part of the semester. one evening, as she told us of his many charms (did i say "charms?" i mean "freakishly freaky freakishness") she said, "you HAVE to listen to his voicemail...it's HILARIOUS." so we giggled our way to the phone and dialed the number she gave us, all the while praying that he wouldn't answer, which he didn't, treating us to the worst (and best) voicemail outgoing message ever. i can't give it to you verbatim, but here is an artist's rendering, if you will: (a note on persnickety's voice: since he has a sinus problem, his speech is peppered with snorts and sniffles and that sickening sound of a loogie being forced down behind the back of one's throat.)

"um... um uh, you've uh reached persnickety's voicemail and um, i'm um not in right now because i'm uh out living it up, because uh, you know, that's college! i could be uh, in the uh library with the books uh, doing work because you know, that's college! always the um not having a lot of time and well, that's college!"

this went on for like a minute and a half. i think he said "that's college" 17 times. we called again. we listened. we laughed. we called again. we listened. we laughed. kelly laughed so hard she peed a little, seriously. then on the fourth time, i dialed the number and held the phone to my ear and to my utter surprise, persnickety picked up the line.

persnickety: uh, hel-lllow?
ahe: ...shocked silence...
p: um, hello?
a: ...whispering... he picked up...what do i do?
liz: HANG UP!
p: um, is anybody there?
a: well um...THAT'S COLLEGE!!!

and then i hung up.

good times.


i came to you in friendship..well, all right, seething hatred.

i love quizilla. this i have known since the first day boredom led me to the site. oh, quizilla, you magnificent bastard. quizilla is where most bloggers get the little quizzes and buttons that say "You are Legolas!" or "You are Armani!" or of late on jason's blog (i can't find the permalink and i'm not willing to try very hard) "You are DNA!"

heather recently forwarded the geekiest of all geek-out quizzes...my results are:

You are Conversations with Dead People! You are
critically praised, but you killed Jonathan.
You bastard!

Which Drew Goddard Episode Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

i took a quiz to tell me which episode of buffy the vampire slayer written by drew goddard i am. now honestly...NERD ALERT.

percy here was head boy...

i feel like a little part of my childhood just died. like when i watched star wars episode two, only way worse.


the red sun rises

so, i have officially begun the descent into madness that is my preparation for the lord of the rings: the fellowship of the ring and the two towers extended version double feature lead-in to the premiere of the return of the king. trilogy tuesday, december 16th. i will be taking the day off of work and it will be glorious. the fellowship begings at 1:00, followed by the two towers at 5:30 and the finale at 10:00. i'm so excited that i pee a little everytime i think about it. this will be roughly a 13-hour marathon and i need to come up with a fail-safe game plan. i have no doubts that my rock-hard ass will hold up well during the festival, especially when you take into account the hour break between part one and two and the half hour between two and three.

my main concerns are as follows: provisions, restroom breaks and not moving an inch during the return of the king. provisions will be the easiest of the three. i generally consume 1.5 litres of water during a film, therefore, i will bring 3 litres. FOTR will be my lunch movie and during the film, i will consume a carefully prepared, not easily spillable lunch, such as a sandwich, followed by one or more small snacks. during TTT for dinner, i will purchase popcorn and a hot dog and consume them with equal fervor. Dessert during ROTK will consist of licorice, swedish fish and peanut butter twix.

since i have the extended versions at home, i will start hashing out a tentative plan for the restroom. clearly, the women's bathrom will be packed during the intermissions, so i will have to take my urination breaks during FOTR and TTT. i will need, of course, to go to the cinerama and do a bathroom dry-run and see how long it will take me to get form the theatre to the stall and back again and then add that time to the length of my average pee break (which is 2 minutes). then, i will watch the movies and figure out the precise moments that a trip to the restroom will be acceptable and commit that list to memory. during the actual festival, i will use those times and those times alone to go quick like a bunny, empty my bladder, wash my hands and run back.

lastly, i must ensure that i do not, under any circumstances, leave the theatre during the return of the king. barring any type of natural disaster or personal emergency, the only thing that would lead me from the theatre would be the need to urinate, therefore, all food and ESPECIALLY all drink during TTT will be consumed during the first hour and a half, which will [prompt me to use the facilities before TTT has concluded. no water will be allowed until the last 45 minutes of ROTK.

now for the fun part. i have two tickets. one for me and one for some lucky asshole. i have yet to make any offers because whomever comes with will need to adopt my game plan (or one similar) and not object to sitting on the aisle. so, if you're intersted, let me know. or maybe i'll go alone and sell the ticket for 300 bucks on ebay.


i thought you were grown in some sort of a greenhouse for dandys

so v. busy. so v. stressed out. will post randomness until brain swelling subsides. made a mix cd. it is awesome. i totally rule. also, i likes me some whiny pussy music.

the postal service – nothing better
love – alone again or
the shins – new slang
simon & garfunkel - only living boy in new york
wilco – jesus etc.
elliot smith – clementine
coldplay - don't panic
the decemberists – los angeles, i’m yours
iron & wine - such great heights
violent femmes – i held her in my arms
kings of leon – train
john guilt – smokestacks and graveyards
the walkmen – wake up
remy zero - fair
blonde redhead – a cure
bitter, bitter weeks – still as a stream
galaxie500 – blue thunder
frou frou - let go
pete yorn – crystal village
nick drake - one of these things first
ben kweller – how it should be (sha sha)
jude - you mama you
dolly parton - dagger through the heart
joan baez – it’s all over now, baby blue


oh, i've had office romances...loads

my mom sent me a couple of boxes of books (oh, madeline l'engle, how i have missed your masterworks) as well as these trapper keeper folders that i haven't seen since i graduated form high school and packed up my room. there were papers and notes and discs of old emails that i kept for some reason. this was depressing as i discoverd that in regards to academics and sheer hilarity of email, i really peaked in high school. also, i knew and could use in asentence the wor d"quixotic" when i was thirteen years old. since i don't really have tons of time to create all new fabu entires in this time of stress, i'm just going to post some of the crap i found in those old boxes. following this, i've put an email i wrote to my friend heidi sakuma in 1997. as backstory: jim scott took over as president of my school that year and i guess announced his intentions to get rid of win healy, the principal of the academy and the smartest man alive and replace him with some college crony. hmm.

I've just got to say, "What the HELL is Jim Scott thinking?" Oh yeah, that rat bastard Healy. I'm gonna fire him, cuz I'm the President, nuh-hyuk!. What a collossally stupid move. Does he realize that he's just alienated the entire faculaty, staff and Board of Directors?

Someone's been hitting the crack, methinks.

"Wow. President of Punahou. Whoa...I'm God now! Man, I'm gonna fire Healy! I can fly!"

What a moron. The man is toast. Toast, says I. I mean, everyone will hate him. If there was anyone to canonize at punahou, it was Healy. I mean, aside from being the tallest human being on the planet (well, I guess his son Than is the tallest human being on the planet now), he’s COOL. Tall AND cool, what a concept.

Scott should just kneecap himself and save his administration for the misery of the next 15-20 years.

“OW! What was that for?”

“You’re an idiot. It’s all part of the service. Have a pleasant day.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if armed uprisings were in the works. You know…enthusiastic… how the Academy teachers get when they’re mobilized behind something.

“President Scott? We have a status report: we’re steadily losing ground around Dillingham. The theatre department has somehow dug an underground tunnel to Montague and the Music reinforcements are pouring down our front lines. Also, machine-gun towers were erected around the perimeter of the Academy. Any attempt at entrance has been met with excessive force. We lost an entire squad of sappers to a nest manned by a cadre of English teachers. They’re animals—cheering and screaming Ayn Rand and Doestoyevsky quotes while gleefully mowing down our troops!”

“Bloody Hell! Where are the troops I was promised from Buildings and Grounds?”

“Sir, they’ve thrown their loyalty behind the revolutionaries…”

“TERRORISTS!!! I’ve told you a million times, they’re TERRORISTS!!!”

“Sorry, sir, the, uh *terrorists* are currently buzzing about the campus in modified go-carts, dousing our troops with napalm and beating them over the head with Norton Anthologies.”

Oh. This could go on for days. We could have Jon scott as played by Gary Oldman, Tim Roth as one of Scott’s evil henchmen who dies horrifically, John Rhys-Davies as Norm Hindley and someone heroic, tall and cool as Healy…Oh, Liam Neeson! With stilts. Throw in Harvey Keitel for a token nude-male scene and we’ve got ourselves a flick here.


you know, light-hearted, fancy-free

i thought i would be remiss in not pointing out that i just ran into jason ronbeck walking the streets (not in a prostituty way) near my office. i don't think i'd seen him in person for like two years. weird. oh, and he got really cute--mothers, lock up your sons!

so i'm like asthma?

my updates may be less frequent as our death march towards workforce reduction continues. everyone's pretty freaked out and gross--and i'm no exception. i've actually found a job at which i am good and like at the same time. oh, and that pays well. management hasn't decided on anything yet--they really have no idea what direction the company or the division is going, so we'll see how it all goes. cross your fingers for us kiddies in luxury positions.


at the late night, double feature picture show

gary ridgway pleaded guilty to 48 counts of murder this morning. apparently, this makes the so-called green river killer the most officially prolific serial killer in american history. my bus runs right by the courthouse. i was within 200 feet of this guy today. i feel dirty all over.


you guys are melvins, and i'm not one of you; so you go ahead and be melvins and leave me alone

i suppose i should have some post about the halloween festivities of this weekend, but like every other year ever halloween has come and gone and no wacky hijinks have ensued. didn't see any particularly awesome costumes. there were like 8 wolverines and 17 wonder women, though, which was sad because it turned perfectly good costumes annoying. beth's boyfriend dave came as that verizon guy after meeting an angry mob. this made my heart hurt because i love the verizon guy--he is nice and cute and his nerdy glasses perfectly compliment mine. rachel came in a remarkably good mr. hanky the christmas poo costume which made me 1) laugh heartily then 2) feel kinda grossed out because i was talking to someone dressed as crap and later 3) get a little uncomfortable because however, unintentionally, she kinda looked like she was in blackface (see jason's post on a related subject) i enjoyed chris byron's turn as a mormon on his mission, mostly because of the bike helmet. oh, and at the team-costume party i went to on saturday night, i saw a dawson, a pacey and a joey *and* a buffy, a spike, and an angel. yay for love triangles!

but other than that, this halloween weekend was like every other weekend, just with costumes. oh, and i cried once each day: on friday, as i stood waiting for a cab in my cheerleader outfit and 27 degree weather, i cried because i was so cold. i wasn't sad, i think it was the only way my body had of expressing itself. on saturday, i cried terrified tears at a victorian haunted house. oh, and sunday--i sobbed uncontrollably at the end of disney's brother bear. that movie was sad...and happy. like the lion king, only with bears and phil collins.


hello, gorgeous

i've always assumed that the inability to deliver a compliment on a woman's physical attributes without coming off as a skanky pick-up artist was a genetic anomaly endemic to straight men. i feel obliged to record what struck me as one of the least genital-retracting compliments i've ever received:

i went to the halloween party at jon and johnny's house in full cheerleader regalia. all agreed that the incongruity of my personality and the costume was hilarious. beth came as yeoman rand and some random girl was a very under-dressed wonder woman. much later in the evening, beth and i were talking to johnny and he said "you know, i'm trying to figure out which person has been more distracting to conversations this evening: you (meaning me), beth or wonder woman." when pressed to explain, johnny maintained that according to his observation, when one of the three of us walked by, at least all the males engrossed in a conversation would turn and look.

complimentary, but non-threatening.

me like.


all i'm saying is one of us might need a little nap

okay. i'm not making any sort of judgment right here with this. let's make that clear.

so there's a guy. his name is adam gehrke. back in the old college days, he was the king of KUPS, 90.1 The Sound. now he is adam the traffic report guy on the radio and on Q13 morning news. he is very good at it.

in addition to being good at what he does, adam has a website. please peruse his modeling shots.

no judgment.


i never saw such a bunch of apple-eaters

okay. while i do not condone violence as a solution to our problems (even though i think a well-timed kick to leslie moonves' head might help the UPN and CBS line-ups) i really have to say that catholic schoolgirls unleashing their inner demons on a sexual predator is the greatest thing that has happened in a long-ass time. the only thing that could have made that better would be if they had pelted him with rotten fruit as well.

happy halloween

now leave me alone.


this song is called the CIA: our maligned little brother

i saw the new jane campion film in the cut the other night and i have to say, i was pretty well disappointed. the first disappointment came with the realization that nicole kidman would no longer play the female lead, but rather meg fucking ryan in her "in case you didn't see when a man loves a woman i can sort of act in a dramatic role" role. there's been a lot of re-bop about the film, as the international version, apparently, is extremely sexually explicit. the oral sex scenes have been cut for the american release (but rent the dvd if you want to see america's ex-sweetheart get eaten out), so they scraped by with an r-rating. meg ryan's breasts, as far as i can tell, are about the only legitimate reason to see the film. the direction and camerawork were, i will admit, very well done. nicely dark and cramped. i liked it. the acting was so-so (with a nice turn by kevin bacon, which is weird because i usually hate him and i thought he did a great job in this as well as mystic river). i only bought meg ryan as being capable of pseudo-sexual-perversity because she cheated on poor ex-anorexic/awesome dude dennis quaid with that fat kiwi russell crowe. oh, is it just me or is my ex-boyfriend mark ruffalo getting fatter, skankier and more vincent d'onofrio-like with every passing minute?

as i was saying: the movie was disappointing. jane campion has some moves, but the story was pretty lackluster and unimaginative. oh, and for all of its artistic integrity bullshit, it somehow failed to evade the acrid stench of soft-core pornography.

remind me to cut off your balls later

so this morning, i'm going to work. on the corner of 6th and pike, i stop and wait for the little walky dude to light up so i can cross. i look up and the traffic light has turned yellow, there are no cars coming, so i step out into the crosswalk. i get four steps in and the light changes, the walky dude comes up, all clear. i get to the sidewalk and then, a siren bleeps. a really mean voice yells, "miss, come over here." i look around. a motorcycle cop has just pulled my pedestrian ass over to the curb. i am, for a second, mortified. for about three seconds. when i realize that he is about to chastise me for sort-of-jaywalking, it all becomes borderline-hilarious. "why did you jaywalk right in front of me?" i think about it for a milisecond. "because i didn't see you?" he looks at me, well i'm assuming he was looking at me from behind those shiny cop sunglasses (which he was wearing in total absence of glare-producing sunlight, i'd like to point out), and uses his respect my authoritay voice: "well, that's a $47 dollar citation. wait for the light next time." then he tools off on his copper-cycle.

i start laughing. everyone who witnessed the interaction begins laughing as well. this guy in a suit who looks uncannily like a young john travolta walks up to me and says something like that was so funny, blah blah, i'm glad you didn't get a ticket... we walk down the block and i look at the guy and i say, "do i know you from somewhere? you went to UPS didn't you?" and he did. weirdly enough. his name is brendan or brandon and he was in my environmental science class with eriks (plural). i don't remember if i thought it then, but man, this brendon/brandon guy is hot. makes me want to watch stayin' alive.

you know what i want to do now?



take it down a notch, charlemagne

due to the whole stress fracture thing, i've had to make some short-term concessions. those pointy shoes with kitten heels i love so much: replaced with plain jane flats. also--i've had to dial back on the physical exertion, which, at first glance, doesn't appear to be much of a problem seeing as how i don't so much do the exercise thing. don't do it. no running, no pilates, no gym, nothing. i don't like it. i will pay for it later, i'm sure, but doubtless i will be able to counter that with an eating disorder of some kind. so i figure, comfy shoes, no exercise, i'm home free. then i remembered that i walk to and from work every goddamn day, and i don't work down the street, it takes me a good 20-25 minutes both ways, all up- or down-hill. i tried to walk the first day and ended up calling a cab because i couldn't walk anymore and was nowhere near a bus stop. i have been thus relegated to catching the 3 or the 4 from the stop near my building, which sucks because i don't like being a slave to a schedule other than my own. if i'm late walking out the door, i can just walk faster and get to work on time (and by "on time," i mean "still late, but not as late as i could have been"), but if i'm late for the bus, i have to wait 15 more minutes and i can't exactly ask the driver to speed to make up for lost time.

actually, maybe i'll try that once.

so this bus thread had a point and that point was: i'm at the bus stop this morning, right? it's just me, standing in the little awning. it's a bit chilly, but not windy and not rainy. crisp. i appreciated it. then a woman walks up and stands right outside the awning. we stood there silently and waited for the bus. then another woman, accompanied by a man approached and they joined the bus stop party. good times. then this guy walks up and stands under the awning, three feet away from me. and he starts yelling, in that hoarse, throaty growl that street preachers always seem to have. he yelled the following non-stop for the 6 more minutes until the bus arrived: "you want him to live! he killed fifty people and you want him to live! he's gonna get out and rape more kids and cut their heads off! you white devils! the white devils want him to live! look at all the blue eyed white devils they'll be smashing heads..." and so on and so forth, world without end.

i got a little uncomfortable when he got to the "white devils" part of the tirade, mostly because racism makes me uncomfortable, but also because it was at that point that i realized that i was the only white person there and he was looking, maybe not at me, he had crazy eyes, but definitely in my direction the whole time. and on top of that, i was curious--i mean the guy was pretty much certifiable and all, but if some serial killer/child rapist is getting out of prison or walking the streets, i want to know about it, dammit. i could have asked, i suppose, but he also could have wigged out and slashed the white devil's throat. being crazy and all.

AND cute AND fuzzy!!!

okay--so the glitch with the comments has been fixed. well, not really fixed, just avoided, really. apparently, there is some bug that messes things up when there is an apostrophe in the title. i don't know why this is true, i didn't ask. so i will now be using backslashes instead of apostrophes in the titles, okay? okay.


they/ll never catch me, man, cause i/m fucking innocent

i just received the following e-mail:

-----Original Message-----
From: Data Security
Sent: Tuesday, October 28, 2003 12:50 PM
Subject: Password Protection

Data Security Password Protection Auditing has flagged your Systems Access password.All passwords should consist of 6 or more characters with at least one number and at least one uppercase letter. Your level of security requires that you use a more secure password. We suggest that you modify it in the near future.

Thank You,

Data Security

to which i can only repond in my angry voice: eat this shit, yo. my password can be my goddamn birthday if i want it to be, which it's not, so shut it, data security! can't this one area of my life be untouched by the man? just gimme this one...

is this it?

why all the rhubarb over the fucking strokes? i heard their new album, and you know what? it sounds exactly like their first album, only without that one song that i liked.


the fall/s gonna kill you

[cue thus spake zarathustra]

bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum

bum...bum...BUM BUM!!!!

i have completed all three (yes, three) of my halloween costumes. worship me.

the first is incindental. kylee and i decided that we don't want to dress up for work, even though costumes are required (yes, required) for our pot luck--so we're going to switch clothes and be each other. i'm not sure how i'm going to feel squeezed into her blue cult gywneths and james perse off-shoulder top, but i can be cosmo-trendy for one day.

the second, and based strictly on the absurdity factor, the best, is the PSU cheerleader outfit i found at the value village. picture it: me. ahe. a cheerleader. oh, it's funny. last year, when i was little red ridinghood, nobody wanted to take my cookies because they suspected they were poisoned. if i can't pull off nice, i certainly won't be able to pull off perky.

and third, and based strictly on the awesomeness factor, the best, is my group costume for the saturday night party: my friend avi is going to be max fischer and i shall be margaret yang. this would have been too esoteric for work, but i'm assuming that a bunch of effete assholes from SAM should dig it okay.

my only reservation with the margaret yang costume is that yet another room full of people will that that i'm fucking asian, which i am definitely not. dammit. every time someone calls me asian, all i can think is, "have you ever *seen* an asian person? i hate you."

lies, damn lies and statistics

just so you know, there is no rhyme or reason to my entry titles. it's whatever quote happened to pop into my head at the time, simple as that. if there happens to be some connection to the text of the post, it's purely coincedental.

murdered by pirates is good...

you know, i think something happened to me when i moved to seattle. i'm not quite sure when exactly or why or how, but i actually care about what i wear and what my hair looks like. when i was in school, i wore baggy jeans from old navy and sweatshirts and this blue pair of A/F cargos that i loved to death. i left the house with wet hair and only used chapstick on my lips and i didn't care! susan told heather that i used to be her "tomboy hero." now i'm all paper denim and cloth this and lancome juicy tubes that and mini skirts and flower pins and short hair and hipster glasses--what the fuck happened to me? was it too many episodes of will and grace? which magazing sent me over the edge? was it jane or nylon? was it seeing all of those seven jeans paraded around in seattle bars? what? since when do i use kiehl's blue herbal astringent? since when do i go to an aveda salon and use "product" and blow dry and straighten and texturize my hair? since when do i lust after 800 dollar marc jacobs handbags and dior stilettos? since when do i own pointy-toe shoes?

i was in tacoma this weekend for hillary's birthday and we went to the old spaghetti factory. hillary, keith, marshall, jene, jade, jenn, heather and i sat down together and i spent the rest of the evening being appalled by what other people in the restaurant were wearing. due to my recent denim obsession, i've developed a habit of looking at the stitching on people's butts to see who made their pants. in seattle, i usually see a billion sevens, some gap, some pdc, a few earl maybe a joe's jean. at the tacoma OSF, it was gap, old navy and lane bryant. this did not bother me--those jeans are fine, but i did find the lack of designer denim a little odd. then i saw the girl in a cropped tank top with a vest. oh my god. i saw bleached blondes with porn star make-up. i saw members only jackets and capri jeans. i saw 24 year old women in high-waisted mom pants. i saw orange shirts with silhouettes of naked women and wife-beaters under plaid jackets. fifteen year old girls in pancake makeup, black shoes with brown belts, looney toons sweatshirts, black jeans and 33 pairs of white sneakers.

i judged. i judged like crazy. these people freaked me out. i felt like i was visiting my parents in reno and the point to this is that 3 years ago, i *never* would have judged like that. the clothing trends of the clientele at the old spaghetti factory in tacoma would never, ever have given me a moment's pause. except for the girl in the cropped tank top and vest. that was just weird.


bite the big one, junior

so, i've officially switched over here from over there. i am happy with the change and i would like you to be as well. i find this new location easier to update as well as more visually appealing. i am, however, still working with the colors and the post layout...i'm need to work on spacing. let me know if you have suggestions, but keep in mind that the orange on blue will never leave. what never? no never!

i pasted the most recent entries from the old site here, just so i didn't feel so weird about not having posts.

in numbers too big to be ignored

i'm of the non-religious vein, if you must know. i guess. i suppose i don't really fit in any of those molds, really--i just don't really care either way. i don't know if there is/are (a) higher power(s) and i don't much feel like wasting my limited mental capacities debating an unresolvable issue.

that said, there's been a bit of a rhubarb over this mel gibson flick The Passion. it is, apparently, an ambitious (the dialogue is in various ancient languages: hebrew, aramaic, latin) and yet traditional (faithful to the new testament gospels) production that may or may not also be broadly anti-semetic. i haven't seen the film, so i can't and won't judge, but i will say this: if there is a god, mr. gibson--he wants you to shelve this movie. the other day, jim cavaziel, the actor playing jesus, and the assistant director of the film were struck by lightning during filming. they are both alive and recovering well. this is not the first, but the second time that the AD has been struck by lightning while on set. now, i'm not really up on god and violence and all that, but maybe someone else can tell me: is it still considered 'smiting' if the person doesn't die?


i'm taking the cure so i can be quiet

in other news: elliot smith died yesterday. and by "died," i mean "apparently committed suicide by way of a knife to the chest." this makes me sad as i felt that he was gifted. i am, however, not surprised, and all of this wailing and "what a shock" on mtv2 is so irritating. was anybody actually *surprised* that elliot fucking smith killed himself? i was surprised that he hadn't done it earlier, frankly. have you ever listened to any of his songs? i guarantee you, you slip in his s/t (the cover art for which appears to show people jumping from buildings) and i guarantee you will feel like killing yourself. now imagine how fucked up you have to be to write that sort of shadowy despair?

and also, why is it that i've yet to read an article that mentions his total smack-head-edness?



family of geniuses

heeeeee. witness this exchange between my sister and myself. we had very high sat scores, for serious.

Lissa: I think I want to be the Wonder Twins for Halloween. I can be whichever one turns into the animal and then carry around a bucket of water.

Ahe: that's hilarious. which one turns into water? it's zan, right?

Lissa: Is Zan the boy?

Ahe: yes? i'm not sure. wait, is it zan and jayna or zayna and jan?

Lisa: I don't know. Which one would the girl be?

Ahe: Jan. or Jayna.

Lissa: I think "Zayna" is a girl's name.

Ahe: and "jan" is a boy's name?

Lissa: Jan Michael Vincent is a boy.

Ahe: okay, first off, his name is "jan-michael," not "jan" and second, shut up.

Lissa: Okay, well, the girl turns into the animals, right? And the boy turns into water?

Ahe: i thought the girl turns into water.

Lissa: you thought styrofoam was edible.

Ahe: I WAS THREE!!!!! ... here , hold, on, I'll look it up. Here: http://www.supermanhomepage.com/images/superfriends/wonder-twins1.jpg
It's jayna (girl) and zan (boy). and you're right--the boy turns into water.

Lissa: You are the best. You know what would be great, a Jayna in the shape of an elephant & Zan in the shape of a bucket of water. Then I could spray people all day.


i ate-d the purple berries!

as previously discussed, i likes the girl magazines, the fashion rags, if you will. the writers bandy about such phrases as "cult products" or "underground items" to make you think that certain products are hip and indie and only used by people in the know, when what they really mean is that the label or brand is up-and-coming, ridiculously over-priced and difficult to find because their sales bases are currently small and/or regional. there's a certain prestige to owning something that is scarce or hard-to-find...i'm not sure why, but there is. i know people who will go to canada to purchase lush products...and it's fucking like soap and bubble bath, what the fuck? there are people willing to TRAVEL to get their hands on such cult favourites, it's bizarre.

i, on the other hand, am a bit too lazy for such endeavors, but when i noticed that good old barney's carried items from the duwop line, i found myself incapable of resisting the urge to spend 15 bucks on a thimble-full of "cult product" lip venom. i read like a year ago that christina ricci swears by it, and really, you can't go wrong with christina ricci (unless vincent gallo is involved, but that's another story altogether). it's supposed to tingle and make your lips fuller and redder, and it does, it really does. i looked as if i'd been making out for an hour and then ate some greasy chicken. it accomplishes this apparently, by burning the shit out of your lips. this stuff is like cinammon-flavor acid; it BURNS. and i kinda like it. sure, for a few seconds, you think the skin on your lips is going to peel off, but it doesn't and then it sizzles softly. i wouldn't suggest putting it on and then sharing a drink with someone, though. it could prove an unpleasant surprise.

monkey see, monkey KILL

meanwhile, back at the ranch:

i've been watching this tarzan show on the WB. not because i had a real interest in it, but because your friend and mine, scott g. miller is working for the show, which is super exciting. so i watch the first episode and get totally psyched because skinner from the x-files is on the show and that fucking rocks. i love that guy so much...oh, and he's BAD and bad mitch pileggi is awesome. the lead female, jane is doing a good job, i guess. i like her, she's pretty, she doesn't seem like a flighty WB woman. i know that i've seen her on something else, but i don't know what. by the second episode, i still haven't figured out where i've seen her before and it's starting to bother me, but i'm not motivated enough find out her name and google her. so, yesterday, i'm on the phone with my sister and she says, oh, by the way...dad said that some girl you went to school with is on some tv show...and all the pieces fall together and i'm like, oh holy shit! that's sarah callies! jane is sarah callies, that is so fucked up! i look it up, and it's true: the woman who plays jane on the WB's tarzan is sarah callies, a girl with whom i went to high school. you'll notice in her bio that she went to an "exclusive private school..." what bullcrap. all you needed was money, legacy or high than average intelligence. but regardless, how weird is that? she was two years ahead of me, so she was the super-cool musical theatre genius, of course. that girl could really sing. oh, and, the reason why i didn't recognize her is that she was a blonde in high school. yeah. not so much any more.

so it's weird. people i know in high school: on national tv, writing for findlaw.com, 2 playing for national league baseball teams, 4 on broadway, a couple are models, at least 3 have been published, oh, and i went to school with amanda schull, the girl from that ballet movie center stage. it seems that people who knew me 8 years ago are destined for greatness.

stick with me kids, you won't regret it.


abjection is above all ambiguity

i wasn't going to update today, being all in a tizzy about finishing up this little blurby mcgee for the big boss man. i wasn't gonna. thought to myself, "nothing will stop me from bringing the funny. must concentrate on silly dinner speech." the severity of this particular issue trumps that thought. you see, i read the girl magazines. i pick up cosmo, jane, allure, glamour, nylon, paper, marie-claire, british glamour, french marie-claire and lucky (oh lucky, my holy grail of magazines...how i worship at your capitalistic altar) every month in addition to bust, bitch, mojo, premiere, the economist, time, APM, empire, no depression, atlantic monthly, utne, filmmaker, mcsweeney's, and martha stewart living. oh holy shit i read a lot of magazines. i actually have to take out stacks once a month; i must literally take two trips to the bin.

okay, my point being: i read the fashiony girlie rags. i know what's all hip and shit, at least in NYC and LA. doesn't mean i wear high heels with pointy toes...i mean, really. why would i do that? mmm, how about i can't feel my toes? that sounds good! right. so i know that minis, especially pleated minis are all in this year. in for summer! in for fall! in for winter, yay! when it gets cold...pair with opaque tights for a mod look. so, i figure, my butt's smaller than it used to be and i've got 8 feet of legs...why not? i've been doing that, the mini thing. not every day, but at least once a week i wear a pleated mini, tights and flat shoes and a chunky sweater so as not to look like a whore. did that today. my skirt is red. i like it. it's short. i have tights on, but you can see my red underwear through them. so, i go outside, expecting seattle rain. i get HURRICANE FORCE WIND, sweet jesus. my hair is all in my face, getting stuck in my lip gloss, which of course i'm wearing because cosmo loves lancome juicy tubes! then, as i'm crossing the street in front of four lanes of traffic...guess whose skirt flies right up? guess whose skirt flies up and she's only got one hand to keep it down so oncoming traffic, passers-by and the homeless guys across the street all get a nice old view of her ass and undies?

that'd be me, bob.

i hate my life.


and it/s greatly to his credit

at last, at long last: the pill for men. well, it's not actually a pill. some australian researchers have released a study on a newly developed form of male birth control that consists of progestin and testosterone injections. injections, you say? injections. it's an every three months thing, which renders the belonephobia excuse practically null. this has the potential to be really fucking cool.

you'll notice i say "potential." first of all, according to this article, this is a first study and there will be many more over many years before the final drug will be available. if this stuff hits the market in 5 years, i'll be 28. i'm assuming it won't get into popular rotation for a couple of years later. i'm hoping that by the time i hit 30, i won't be sleeping around as much, and, as such, will have less to worry about in the pregnancy boat. also, it's not that i don't trust men to be responsible about birth control--i know how important it is, especially to guys my age. i was recently at a party at susan's house in tacoma (ah, sweet tacoma) and dan, will, karl and some other guy whose name i don't know all agreed that their greatest fear is getting a girl pregnant, which says a lot, considering that my greatest fear is death by fire. in fact, my top ten greatest fears involve death or harm of self or loved ones. pregnancy ranks fairly low for me...i think it would be in the 20's...somewhere after "poverty," but before "baldness."

so, yeah, i get it. boys don't want to get girls pregnant unintentionally. but even so, in my experience, boys play it fast and loose with condoms if they're not concerned with std's and most fellas assume that girls are on some form of birth control, which is a pretty ridiculous assumption. i'm not on the pill and not because i "don't believe in taking hormones" as seems to be so in style these days, but because i'm lazy and would rather use condoms...and i think i can say the same is true for guys, except not only are they lazy, but they would rather *not* use condoms. also, guys lie a lot. i'd like to be clear on this: i'm only talking in my experience here, okay? when i say "guys," or "men," i mean "guys or men that i know or have dated or have heard stuff about from other girls." when you add up the lazy and the not wanting to use condoms thing, what i imagine is a future where guys can be lazy and not wear condoms, but lull women into a false sense of security by lying and telling us they're on the man-pill.

so basically, when i said that "it's not that i don't trust men to be responsible about birth control," what i meant is "i don't trust men to be responsible about birth control."



we're having some screwy server issues around here, so EVERYTHING is all slow and dumb and i'm getting cranky as a result. i've gotten a couple pop-up messages telling us that WMT03 is low on space and we have to delete stuff and whatnot, and i was like, dudes...isn't it your job to make sure we have ENOUGH space? i mean, it's not like we're cluttering the place up with downloaded music and pornography or anything. databases take up a lot of fucking space, man.

this is, of course, all made better by the fact that monday is a holiday. woo-hoo! i'm going to do the day off dance, okay. it's much like the sushiland dance, only with less butt movement. oh, and the day off dance must be done while seated.

in other news, me and the west wing are pretty much officially through. this is especially sad as a) this has been a four year relationship and b) this has never happened to me before. i have never abandoned a show mid-series, at least not on purpose. i've been unable to catch some episodes here or there, but i've always made it up during repeats or had someone tape it for me or as a last resort, lived off of the re-caps at Television Without Pity. But to just stop watching? To purposefully watch another show at the same time and make no effort to even switch over during the commercials? it's the tv viewer's equivalent of going down to the store for a pack of cigarettes and never coming back...