BTW: Happy Halloween

ALSO: OMG WHY ISN'T SEATTLE A PART OF THE LIMITED RELEASE?

Boondock Saints II: Al Saints Day

I don't think I could be more excited if you paid me.

The end of the dailies

WEll, not really. If you've noticed I've stopped posting daily - which is sad, BUT I have not stopped entirely, I promise.

A certain person came back into town this week and he has been a little distracting. A little.

Day Seventy: On days off and things that annoy me

I have today off. So far, I have cuddled with my roommate and napped for six hours. I haven't cleaned the house or my room, I haven't done any more grad school research and I haven't eaten.

I have been thinking about things that annoy me. Ready?

1) Motherfuckers who aim to instill confidence only to immediately break trust when they've gleaned even an iota of goddamn gossip. Bitch, it wasn't even good gossip.

2)STINGY TIPPERS. Do you realize how much work goes into your food? This isn't fucking McDonalds,kids, we're not fucking drones. We all have rent to pay and we've all been on our feet for 5 fucking hours (At least) and we certainly do not want to bring you ANOTHER side of ranch but we WILL because we're chill like that and we're hoping for 20%. Now I see why Spain included the fucking tip, why leave this bullshit to chance.

3)Sober people. I don't mean all the time, obviously, there are times when I love sober people, there are even times when I AM a sober person. BUT, sober people when you are slightly or extremely intoxicated are just annoying - these are the same people who the next day are like HEY, do you remember when you fell of the barstool into the emu? FU.

Day Sixty-Nine: When is drunk too drunk?

The answer: when other people have to take care of you.

Day Sixty-Eight: On game days

Today is not a game day, not here anyway. Game days: days in which the Huskies are home and play anyone of the the other NCAA football teams; see also, days in which every employee at work commences running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

Tomorrow? Game day. For the first time I will be serving instead of hostessing. At least I'm not stressed, you know, at all. Ha.

Day Sixty-Seven: Uh.

Welp, definitely woke up drunk today after a night of . . . shenanigans. Work was . . . fun?

Day Sixty-Six: That's All Folks!

You know what I did yesterday? I watched cartoons. With my roommates. With candy. And chips. And diet Coke. For serious, it was amazing. So. Much. Fun.

Daffy and Donald and Daisy. Foghorn Leghorn and Bugs. Sylvester, Tweety and ICABOD CRANE - holy shit, do you guys remember how terrifying that cartoon was as a child? It was scary even last night, surrounded by friends and TWENTY-TWO YEARS of knowing it isn't true - no wonder my eight year old self almost peed herself over that film.


ALSO, Mr.Seventy-Five and retired, being old does not give you the right to be creepy and tipping me well does not afford you the privilege of hitting on me. Gross, dude.

Day Sixty-Five: Off my game

I know, I KNOW. All of my posts have been work-related lately. Today's post was going to be too, I was going to go on and on and on about low-tip percentages and my aching back and the fact that I just can't seem to remember everything on my to-do list no matter how many times I check it. I was. Instead I give you: Listening.

I am listening to Mason Jennings a lot lately. I especially like his Darkness Between Fireflies annnnnnnd don't give me that 'of course you like him, you're a girl' bullshit. I like him because he has an odd voice and cool lyrics and if being a girl means I get to like cool ass dudes like Jennings than I'm glad I got the vag, kids.

This is not the song that I usually listen to on my walk to work (WORK!) but the music video is super legit (yes, I talk like that) and so I lend it to you:

Day Sixty-Four: Annnnnd, we're back.

Back to work that is.

You know what I like about work? My coworkers are crossword people and crossword people? We just get it. We know that it's never slow when you have a Shortz clue to figure out. There is never a customer mean enough or stingy enough to make my crossword less than perfectly enjoyable. Thank you, NY Times, thank you.

Day Sixty-Three: Hangover anyone?

UN RESACA BEYATCHES. I have one. Ugh.

Today is my only day off, ever, in the history of ever. I exaggerate, not. I'm going to live it up by nursing my hungover self with coffee and a little Lia-reconnection. Pretty flipping excited, yo.

Day Sixty-Two: Legit

I was supposed to be "hosting" tonight but I ended up full-on serving. I can't seem to get used to the fact that waitressing is unpredictable. One day you'll have a line out the door and round the block and the next you'll have one table and six bored-to-tears staffers. Odd.

Now, I drink.

Day Fifty-Nine, Sixty and Sixty-One: Missing posts?

You'll notice from time to time that I don't post every day, even though that is the promise I made. I'm struggling, right now, with finding what to write. This is not just a blog problem.

I recently set a goal: I would, this year, apply to grad school. I want to study Creative Writing at a top program and I want to earn my M.F.A. This goal requires that I complete 50 polished pages of creative writing. Maybe it's the stress of having a deadline, but I am suffering from the worst case of Writer's Block in recent memory.

I have maybe four stories going at once and every time I take one step forward with them I take about eight back.

The other, not so drastic, problem is that I am house sitting for my parents and they don't have wireless so my lap top is basically useless.

Anyways, enough with the excuse. Forward march.

Day Fifty-Eight: on writer's being stupid

There is a certain grain of stupidity that the writer of fiction can hardly do without, and this is the quality of having to stare, of not getting the point at once.
---Flannery O'Connor

Well, I certainly don't get the point but I'm happy to continue staring.

Day Fifty-Seven: Nightmare

I had a suffocating nightmare last night. Maybe it was just my fever coming back but fuck, no thank you.

Day Fifty-Six: Graduate School?

I'm still gonna do it. . . I think. But, I've been reviewing the admission requirements and it's just not in the cards kids. I've decided though, as long as I try I'll be okay settling for what I've got. It's the not trying that'll get you.

Day Fifty-Five: Is it possible to watch too much TV?

I took being sick very seriously. I have a job and my job isn't exactly rocket science but I still don't want to let anyone down by being consistently sick and out of it. So, when I made the decision to call in sick I made getting better my job. I'm still sick but I am better.

Ok, what does getting better have with too much TV?

Part of my getting-better-now regimen was not moving from the couch. Not moving from the couch meant watching TV for eight straight hours. AND, lest you mention it, I did try and read but, this drugged up girl could not follow a plot line if she was paid to do so.

Moral of the story: Eight hours of TV does not a happy Hanley make. I'm actually, and y'all should record this, I am actually excited to go into work tomorrow - just to shake up my effing day.

Day Fifty-Four: Real World Addiction

It's true: I once dreamed of being on the Real World. Admitting you have a problem is the first step. The real truth? I still want to be on the Real World.

Day Fifty-Three: On abysmal tv

Ok. I get it. You hooked me with the first few episodes so now you get to leave me hanging. . . Maybe you're letting your rookies come to bat or you just had a bad week but come on network television your loyal fans aren't stupid. We know a half-assed, mal-produced episode when we see it.

Supernatural, with your throwback to first season "breather" episode, I'm looking at you. You dragged the boys through hell and now your slamming them right back where they started. Also, reign Padalecki in. His melodramatic intakes of breath are melting my face.

CSI:NY, I'm hoping you just forgot to add the To Be Continued tag line and if you did I hope someone got fired. This weeks episode could have been shoved in to a five minute teaser. Also, the whole paralyzed but not plot line? It's getting old really fast. Forcing Danny and Lindsey to spend quality time together when they never had chemistry in the first place is just plain old boring. Danny was more fun when he was boning the neighbor out of guilt for killing her son.

I've been watching The Office and it's been cracking me up. It's not on my hit-list yet but it's teetering very near the edge of that beating a dead horse feeling you get from a lot of shows.

Scrubs should be over already. Finito.

NCIS: LA, I'm not sure why I'm watching you in the first place given that I never, ever got into NCIS oh except OMG! Chris O'Donnell! You're still boring though and if his face weren't so much fun to watch I'd be sinking into a nice, canned, reality show instead.

Day Fifty-Two: Sick.

Should be more like sick!!!!!!!!!! I am officially under the weather and not happy about it. Hear that sickness? Happy. NOT. Not happy.

Also, the question mark button on my keyboard is sticky. . . time to remove the computer from general use? I think so.

Day Fifty-One: Sick?

I am feeling the edges of a cold eating away at my energy. Must. Stay. Healthy.

Day Fifty: Happy 50th!

I made it 50 days posting!!!! Woo-hoo.

I. Went. Out. Woah. I actually got out of the house.

Last night, I met some coworkers at Finn's for a birthday celebration. I drank way more than I should of and I had a great time. In case you were wondering, Finn's is half-off everything on Sundays. Yes, it is impossible to not get drunk. The savings - they are irresistible. I'm not sure where I fit in at work yet but I really do enjoy the company of the people I work with and that? That is a good thing.

Day Forty-Nine: L'autobus

Todays post consists of me being lazy, taking the bus, drinking a STARBUCKS latte, not enjoying work, getting home, and going out.

I will elaborate.

Yesterday was one of the laziest days in recent memory. I did nothing. I was hungover and I sat on my bed and then later on the couch and I watched so much tv my eyes were literally rotting by the time I rolled back into my bed to fall asleep.
Today I woke up, determined to walk, discovered that it was cold as balls outside and saw the bus, took the bus. Was early to work.
I stopped at STARBUCKS. I like STARBUCKS. I like that their drinks are fast and tasty and consistent. I like their logo and I like their stores. I LIKE STARBUCKS. God, how un-indie of me. Woops.
Work was tough today. The boss was on a tear. He is the boss so he is allowed to be picky but after awhile I just felt run-down. I really couldn't do anything quite right. I learned a lot about what he expects and he has good reasons, still after mopping the floor for an eighth time I kind of felt like freaking out.
I got home, I napped, it was glorious.
Now? Now I go out.

Day Forty-Eight: Lazing about

Our house survived the party and today? Today we do nothing.

I had fun and I know that my roommates had fun (and that's important) but I still don't like being a host, not really. I don't like wondering when people are going to leave so that I can go to sleep. I don't like worrying about whether people have enough to do and who is spilling what where. I'd much rather meet a bunch of people at a bar, but maybe that's just me being "old".

Day: Forty-Seven: Kegger????

Ok, so I'm more than a little drunk and more than a few of the people here are a little drunk.


I don't know whether I'm feeling déjà vu or what seeing all these people I lived with and drank with and made mistakes with while living in Spain. . . . Whatever I'm feeling it's making the room spin.

Day Forty-Six: Bad day

Welp. We all have bad days. Today is one of mine.

Day Forty-Five: Kegger?

So the deal with a keg is it is a lot of beer. Try nearly 150 cups of beer. Kegs? They are hard to keep cold. Beer? It is hard to drink warm.

I think Friday will be fun. I don't plan on drinking any of the beer. I'm a little spoiled by the beer we serve at my restaurant and even "from the tap" Bud Light or whatever just won't compare. Instead, I'm going high-class and "healthy" with my Cran and Vodka. I won't be sober, so don't worry your pretty little heads about some post-grad, straight-laced, legal rambling day of. No, I'd prepare myself for some pretty hilarious drunk blogging, texting, dialing. Saturday is my only day off this week so I'm fully prepared to go balls-to-the-wall Friday.

I will be happy to keep you updated on the success or failure of this keg tapping. P.S. They're calling it a back-to-school party but I think, given that 1/2 the house isn't actually going back to school, they should call it Oktoberfest at The Plex. But, either way, a kegger is a kegger and you're welcome to come.

Day Forty-Four: On people I am not-so-excited to share air with

There are certain people, who, although I enjoy their company and would love, love, love to share friendship with, I just can't trust. Because of our past maybe or our present or the precarious state of our future, I'm not sure. But there is a block and I'm not interested in breaking it down. It's a new concept to me, this friends with out being friends thing, this Acquaintance State. I feel very adult.

Day Forty-Three: Graduate school, waitressing and feeling stuck

I'm excited by the prospect of Graduate School. I've been feeling stuck in a rut lately and a little run-down. Work is good, great even. I have hilarious coworkers and I like my eccentric bosses. Still, it's work. I don't want to work, I never want just a "job" I want to be doing. Out there. In the World.

School was not always perfect or ever perfect but it gave me a sense of Going Forward and I want to feel that again.

Wish me luck, y'all.

Day Forty-Two: Writer's block

It's a true truth that the second you decide to do something which requires of you a creative effort of the writing kind you find yourself in a wasteland of bad ideas suffering from the worst kind of distress: the dreaded writer's block.

Day Forty-One: Oops

I had this written, I swear. I totally forgot to post it.

Work was . . . interesting. It's getting busy again but we're still staffing as if it's slow so mostly we're all just stressed. Every conversation pretty much goes like this:

Server: I have two hamburgers and a sausage up.
Cook: We're out of sausage.
Server: Fine, I'll make a goddamn salad.
Helper: We're out of lettuce.
Server: Chili?
Helper: Oh. I forgot to turn the heater on.
Server: Ok. I'll give them some crack-
Helper: Ran out of crackers earlier.

And on. And on. And on.


Awesome.

Day Forty: Graduate School

I am applying to graduate school. Some of my applications aren't due until March so I'm telling all of you so that when the time comes I don't have any choice but to follow through.

Part of the process? I have to create a creative writing portfolio and fuck if I'm not terrified. This is the ultimate Am I Good Enough situation and you know? I'm not sure I am.

Day Thirty-Nine: Home again

Okay, so I just got back from Portland where I went with E and one of his captain buddies to see Modest Mouse.

Before I get to the good stuff can I just say: There is enjoying a concert and then there is ruining it for everyone else. To all the people who were completely intent on "dancing" with their shirts off and spilling beer, literally showering me with beer, I say, you're absolutely in for some karmic returns. You are douche bags and the universe knows it.

Now. The show itself was pretty fun. Isaac (the singer) was a little late and by a little I mean almost an hour but that's OK because he was only sort-of fall-down drunk so it all worked out. He's a weird guy. His band is a weird band. They come together to produce a weird show. I? I had fun.

On a not totally unrelated side-note: we hung out (see: got drunk) at various bars in Portland before the show. If you're ever in Portland you HAVE to check out The Cellar bar on W Burnside. Do it. You will not regret it. The bar is actually a part of McMenamin's which is the bar that hosted the concert in their Crystal Ballroom.

I really don't have much else to say. Except, maybe. . . Modest is really good on CD and I kind of, a little bit, idealized them and while their concert was good I don't think it was you know CD good . . . What I mean is, usually when I hear a band live my love for them is further solidified. With Modest I had to re-listen to a couple of their CDs today to remind myself why I worship at their altar. Still, if you ever get a chance to drop 30bucks on them, I'd do it.

Also . . . Their new EP? Not worth it.

Day Thirty-Eight: Concert

At a bar drinking Ruby Ale at McMenamin's in Portland, I'm going to Modest Mouse in just a few minutes. Pretty excited.

Day Thirty-Seven: From Cop Cars to Smeyesing

Welp. Came home to three cop cars blocking my driveway and six cops wandering around asking if we'd seen a white male, 6 ft, 150lbs. . . because that isn't vague at all.

Now? Now I'm watching Tyra teach Larry King how to smeyes. . . no really, this is how I'm spending my night.

Day Thirty-Six: An uphill ride?

I'm pretty sure I was just pushed up-hill 10 blocks, with my roommate, on an ikea cart, by my boyfriend . . . epic? Yes, I would say so.

Daily Thirty-Five: Bars

Headed to Finn MacCools, a bar near my house, where they have free trivia. Will I win? No. Will I have fun? Yes.

Day Thirty-Four: The Fair

I went to the Puyallup fair today for the first time in years and yes, yes it was as epic as you might imagine. There were lots of little people there and not all of them were kids. There must be something in the southern water that stops you from growing, maybe they take coffee through an IV at birth.

Day Thirty-Three: An insane killer at the fair!

CNN tells me: A legally insane killer was on the loose in the state of Washington on Saturday, two days after he escaped during a field trip to a county fair, authorities said.


. . . Who in their right effing mind let this guy go to the fair? He's a paranoid, murderous SCHIZOPHRENIC. Are you kidding me? WTF, Washington. W.T.F?

You can read about this guy here : Escaped killer still at large in Washington State

Day Thirty-Two: Skyping with a New Zealander

Tomorrow will be the end of a 9 day run of NO. DAYS. OFF. I know other people have it worse, but, that doesn't stop me from complaining. Still. I just have to make it through tomorrow.

Right now I am skyping with a friend I met in Cádiz. A friend who is impossible to understand in person much less on the phone. Impossible you say? Impossible. He is from New Zealand and their particular brand of English is like our English only chopped up, spun through Ireland and England and Wales, dropped back through the south, and left, finally to rest on a beach in the middle of the ocean. That is to say, it is lovely to hear as long as I'm not expected to respond with anything more than "Uh-huh, yeah, totally."

Day Thirty-One: On being trashed

I have come to the conclusion that I will always, always choose a drunk person over a high person. I will take your raucous, legal antics over the lazy, illegal zoning-out any day.

Day Thirty-One: On being American

Okay, so there is annoyed and there is annoyed. And yesterday? Yesterday I was annoyed.

Basically, what happened was a certain person on my facebook friends list sent out a message that started with "ok i known not all americans are stupid and hicks but a good few are lol"

(I will not comment on the atrocious grammar or the use of lol. I will not. I. will. not.)

This friend went on to ask for input from Americans on his status message which was actually a YouTube clip from the Tea Party march on Washington, D.C. The clip itself is extremely one-sided, focusing only on those people who were not prepared to speak. Then this friend went on to comment on how Americans need Canadian and British input because we're so idiotic.

And so, I got mad. I got really, really angry and so I did the thing which I hate. I did the passive-aggressive thing. So, for that, I apologize.

However.

I was just as annoyed yesterday as I am now.

There are a lot of things wrong with this country but the ability to disagree with the government; the ability to voice that disagreement in as intellectual or idiotic a way as you see fit? That is not one of them.

Day Thirty: ANNOYED

I am annoyed with every single person who acts like and/or thinks that they are SUPERIOR to ANY OTHER PERSON ON THIS PLANET. Y'all, we've all got problems. We're all dumb and awkward and a little bit ugly. We're a little bit selfish and a little bit good. We can be kind but we know how to be douche-bags. We think bad thoughts and we do bad things and once in awhile we get it right. Everyone needs to stop pretending like one country has the magic solution or one group has the right traditions or that one language is the best way to communicate. None of us has any fucking clue what's going on. We should just embrace the unknown and start working through it together. What's with all the negativity?

Also, to the neighbor upstairs whose girlfriend was outside screaming for you to throw down the keys (FOR TWO HOURS) like fucking Rapunzel and her hair, Please, I ask, nay, beg, PLEASE throw down the fucking keys if only to Shut. Her. UP. We all know you're home, we can hear you pacing and talking and breathing because our floors are THIS thin. Thank you.

Day Twenty-Nine: Listening to

I'm listening to Regina Spektor.



She's pretty fucking cool, y'all.

Day Twenty-Eight: Enjoying the bus

I am a fan of the Shia Labeouf look-a-like who boarded my bus near Mont's Market. I am a fan of the young mother and her four B-E-A-U-tiful babies and of the man who stood to let them sit together. I am a fan of the doctor who boarded near the UW Medical Center still wearing his scrubs; with his perfect smile and his styled hair he is every inch the image you have in your mind of what a doctor should be.

I? I am a fan of the bus.

Day Twenty-Seven: Checkers and Beer

Hey kids. Playing checkers (shot glass checkers -- ask me about it later) and beer pong with my roommate, a friend and a coworker.

Things to remember: I'm already Red Skinned . . . I don't blush.

Day Twenty-Six: Supernatural and finally having internet

So, for those of you who didn't hear my excited squealing - I saw the Supernatural premier! I think my love for the show clouds my ability to judge the episode. I was just so happy to have it back on the air that I didn't really pay attention to any plot holes or gross mistakes. Whatever, I think it's a fun ride and beautiful people are always entertaining.

On the home front, we finally! have internet at the house. This means that I can safely spend all my time there. I say safely because I have a hypoglycemic-esque reaction to lack of connectivity. I am most certainly a child Of This Age - the age in which I don't ever have to wait for anything; an age in which information is available at the touch of an enter button and if you know me, you know that information is my life-blood. So. We're connected. Thank Jesus.

Day Twenty-Five: In the spirit of not complaining

I will not go on and on and on about how absolutely exhausting it was to deal with Comcast this morning. I will not.

I will say that this is the first year in which I almost went a whole day without someone referencing 9/11 on 9/11.

Also, my mom is a 3rd grade teacher and some of her kids? They hadn't even been born when it happened. I can't wrap my head around the fact that I am old enough, now, to remember something that other people weren't alive to see. I know it's silly to think like this. People are born every day and I'm older than all of them, still, it's odd. It's also very odd to think that 8 years have gone by. I remember watching the towers collapse that morning and thinking that I wasn't ever going to be able to see anything else; I honestly thought that that image would be burned into my retinas and anything I ever looked at after would be seen through a screen of that horror. I still think about it, but, I'm happy to say that if anything I see things more clearly and with more appreciation.

Day Twenty-Four: A slight conflict of interest

I think it's probably bad form to request time off in order to see my favorite shows; I mean, maybe it's not, but I think probably, I should just suck it up. However, this does not mean I'm not considering it. Sam and Dean are calling my name . . .

In other news . . . the washing machine I did not mention yesterday is still broken and the kitchen that is not at all poorly designed still smells like the detergent that bled ALL. OVER. THE. EFFING. FLOOR. Detergent and casserole? I can't believe Julia Child didn't come up with this combo sooner.

Day Twenty-Three: On moving as the 10th circle of hell

I promised myself I wouldn't complain about the new place in all it's shiny newness. I promised I wouldn't say one word to tarnish the wonderful white on white image of this gloriously white apartment. I promised.

So.

I won't say anything about the smoke detector above the stove (ABOVE THE STOVE) that went off while I boiled water for my FIRST DINNER EVER and I won't say anything about the washing machine that stopped draining and preceded to flood the whole kitchen while I tried to finish my first load of laundry EVER or that after I wrestled my clothes out of the washer (after a certain roommate broke the door) and into the dryer the dryer turny-on knob thing snapped off and so my clothes just sat, wet, for an entire night. I especially won't mention the brand-new amazing AE jeans that BLED BLUE OVER EVERYTHING despite the tag that said ready to wash with like colors.

Nope. Not saying a word.

I will say that the Dog the Bounty Hunter Season Finale is on tonight and I could just about kiss my manager for calling and asking if I would like the night off. Would I? Would I? Would. I. Ever.

God bless slow Wednesdays.

Day Twenty-Two: Annoyed

The most annoying trait a person can have is the tendency to be passive aggressive. Seriously, say what you need to say and if you don't have the guts to say it out loud than it is obviously not important enough to be said at all.

Day Twenty-One: Thinking

Dog the Bounty Hunter better be mother fucking brilliant this season because my goddamn T.V. was so heavy I thought my arms were literally going to come out of my sockets while I wrestled it up the stairs. In fact, every show I even think about watching better be absolutely Emmy deserving or I'm suing the networks for physical damages.

Shows I'm watching:
Supernatural
Dog the Bounty Hunter
Southland
The Office
Dexter

Shows I'm thinking about watching:
Trauma
Leverage
College
Jockeys

Do you see, now, why I need OnDemand and DVR? I simply don't have time for all the time I plan on wasting in front of the boob tube.

Day Twenty: Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

I re-watched Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil again today.

This film from Clint Eastwood is based on my one of my favorite books (a book I can't believe I left off my impact list). The nonfiction piece, by John Berendt, is an embellished account of a Savannah murder. Savannah being the picture-perfect town on the coast of Georgia, deep in the Old South. Something about the aged South with her cotillions and loaded guns is just so romantic. I think both the film and the book capture the ideal of Savannah while also shedding light into her shadows.

There are holes (as my mom will be quick to point out) but overall the dialogue is memorable and the cinematography is gorgeous. Plus, John Cusack is absolutely edible. In this film: a gay Kevin Spacey, a hussied-up, high-as-a-kite Jude Law and a cross-dressing black man with attitude. What more could you ask for?

Worth it? Absolutely, but, I will say: the book is better.

Day Nineteen: Distracted

Must update blog. Too tired to think.


Work was a whilrwind shit show. Fun. But fucking-a, intense.

Day Eighteen: Gotta love comcast

Thank you to the Comcast rep who ended our conversation like this: I thank you very much for doing business with us and it's my pleasure to have assisted a wonderful and valued person today.

Awesome. I am both wonderful and valued.

Day Eighteen: Forbidden Lies

I watched Forbidden Lies the other day with my mamushka.

Did anyone read the book Forbidden Love? I could lie and say that I did but I didn't. Apparently, it's about a Muslim girl in Jordan who, after being caught shticking it to a Christian soldier, is murdered by her father and brothers in an honor killing. It's based on a true story, according to the author.

The book, I guess, is bullshit. Make-believe. Fake. Not true. Fiction. This film? It breaks down the lies. The writer? A con-woman. Fucking good at it too, I'd say.

Anyways, I totally recommend this film.

The thing is, honor killings? They happen. Every day they happen. In Jordan and Saudi Arabia and even in North America. An "honor" killing is when a father or brother kills their daughter or sister because she broke some Muslim law. Arbitrary laws. And these killings? In a lot of places they come with light sentences or no sentence at all. What makes me sick, even more than the fact that this goes on, is the fact that Khouri trivialized it by lying about it. Her book shook a lot of people up and it opened a lot of eyes and now? We're back past square one. If she had just said: this is fiction, but it very possibly could have happened. Stories like this happen everyday. But no, she lied and then when she was caught lying? She continued to lie. Today? She's still lying.

Check it out:

Day Seventeen: Guilty Pleasure #321

Supernatural.

Love. It.

I love Sam and Dean and their pseudo-incestual protective relationship. I love the demons and the vampires and the werewolves and all the "manly" crying and the men in pain. I love every second of every episode of this series. It's like Buffy meets hot men meets decent writing meets awesome special effects meets every horror film you've ever loved.

Thursday, 9 pm? I'm on my couch in front of the t.v. Please, refrain from calling me or texting me or trying to communicate with me in any way. Thank you.

Day Sixteen: Things I did today

-Slept in.
-FINISHED THE LAST OF THOSE GOD FORSAKEN TWILIGHT NOVELS. More to come, I promise. I have SO much to say about this sorry excuse for literature.
-Played with a 5 (6?) year old. Note to babysitters: Do NOT feed your charge pancakes made with marshmallows, chocolate, powdered sugar and cinnamon and THEN be surprised when they are absolutely bouncing off the walls. T, I am looking at you.
-I, Hanley Mead, went shopping. Legitimate I-don't-really-need-this-but-I'm-still-buying-it shopping. I got some super cute jeans that are long enough! Also, a new scarf and new shoes. Woah. And, only half of it was on sale. Yeah, seriously. Look at me spend.
-I DIDN'T watch the whole Dog the Bounty Hunter Marathon when I totally could have. I'm still watching the 10-11 hour (and you would too if you were at all awesome), BUT I didn't watch the first half. Look at me avoid guilty pleasures.

I'm sure your day was nowhere near as epic.

Day Fifteen: Happy September!

My favorite character from Citizen Kane (and yes, I did enjoy Kane, I did. I swear.) has the same name as my favorite bounty hunter.

Who knew?

More to come tomorrow. But first, I'm listening to this: Modest Mouse - Missed the boat, and you should be too.

Oh and yes, it very much is 3 minutes to midnight. I'm totally awesome with deadlines, I swear.

Day Fourteen: Thinking

Animal Planet is the worst thing to happen to a dog-deprived human like me since DailyPuppy.

Day Thirteen: Nonsense

This could also be called : a non-update, update.

To say work was dead tonight would be greatly understating the amount of non-action. However, half the staff is at my house right now and this is fun so I guess I shouldn't complain, not even a little bit.

We still don't have internet so this is from my phone. Tomorrow, a real post. I swear.

Day Twelve: Books

Okay, so. Facebook. The more mature people on my friends list have been passing around a filler-outer-spam thingy that goes like this:

Rules: Don't take too long to think about it. Fifteen books you've read that will always stick with you. First fifteen books you can recall in no more than 15 minutes. Tag 15 friends, including me because I'm interested in seeing what books my friends choose. (To do this, go to your Notes tab on your profile page, paste rules in a new note, cast your 15 picks, and tag people in the note - upper right hand side.)

Well, I'm not going to tag anyone but I do like thinking about books that have impacted me.

1. Life of Pi - Yann Martel (This book, and maybe it's silly to give a book power like this but, this book gave me the strength to believe in God even if I wasn't quite sure who he was.)
2. The Professor and the Madman - Simon Winchester (Any person who loves language, who loves English will love this book. The amazing history of the Oxford English Dictionary is truly a tale of a professor and the madman who helped him; a story of help coming from all the wrong places.)
3. The Places You'll Go - Dr. Seuss (And, you will, go to oh, so many places.)
4. Close Range - Annie Proulx (Though I'll never write the way she does; never be able to craft a scene or describe emotion the way she does, I'm still able to read her without jealousy. And, if you know me, being able to admire talent without getting all snitty about it. . . well you know, then, what a feat it is.)
5. Into the Wild - Jon Krakauer (I think the boy is an idiot; the writer? A genius.)
6. Under the Banner of Heaven - Jon Krakauer (So, I always thought Mormons were absolutely off-the-wall nuts. This book confirms my belief, but, Krakauer also does a careful job of distinguishing the different branches of Mormonism from each other.)
7. The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald (The book that I finished and said, Well, I want to be a writer. How incredible?)
8. The Miracle Life of Edgar Mint - Brady Udall (Speaking of BYU. . . Udall is a graduate. But, don't hold it against him. He's a masterful storyteller. I'm not sure if I recommend this book; it is heart wrenching and unrelenting. It did impact me though, and the story is absolutely unique - a rarity.)
9. A Wrinkle in Time - Madeleine L'Engle (To be honest, I don't remember much about this book except that at the time I was absolutely enthralled. I remember a big old house and a thunderstorm and I remember loving every second of my stay in her universe. I should maybe read it again, but, I might wait to share it with my own kids; I'll relive it then.)
10. Skeleton Crew - Stephen King (I went through a King "phase" where he was all I read, I find him a bit repetitive now but I still go back to this collection of spooky stories. Something about them captures him.)
11. Gone, Baby, Gone - Dennis Lehane (I had trouble choosing a Lehane book - he's written several. However, this one resonates with me (maybe because it was such an incredible movie). I'm not usually one for mysteries or capers but I think Lehane hits on raw human emotion within his detective plots.)
12. Dracula - Bram Stoker (At least one classic had to make the list.)
13. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen(Ok. So, prepare a little for a rant. I hate British literature. I can't stand the style or the stories or ugh, anything about it. I suffered through my Junior Brit Lit class with a permanent scowl on my face. Still, Elizabeth and Darcy are a very classic pair and something about their story still rings with me, even now. My opinion about Brit Lit hasn't changed, don't you worry. I'm not afraid to throw Wuthering Heights to the wolves and take one step towards me with that horrid Jane Eyre and I'll throw you to them, too.)
14. Romeo and Juliet - Shakespeare (Not a book you say? I say: Shove it.)
15. In a Sunburned Country - Bill Bryson (I want to live in Australia, ok? That's it.)

Also, Harry Potter could totally be on this list because What A Ride. But, it remains at #16 and therefore not worthy.

Day Twelve: Moving and a Twilight review

I think Stephanie Meyer, the author of Twilight is a hack who got lucky.

Let's rewiind.

Let me begin here: Stephen King stated, "the real difference [between Rowling and Meyer] is that Jo Rowling is a terrific writer, and Stephenie Meyer can't write worth a darn. She's not very good."


Meyer is very obviously a young woman who was once a young girl who didn't have many friends. And this whole time she didn't have any friends she dreamed about being whisked away to a city where no one knew her, where she would be exotic and appreciated. Her "character" , Bella Swan, is simply what she sees when she looks in the mirror. Slightly plain but definitely misunderstood; smart and "above" all the shenanigans of high school.


I'll give Meyer this: the story has the potential to be interesting. Edward and his family have a vaguely intriguing dynamic and of course, Vampires are always bound to be entertaining. The idea of a "good" vampire clan isn't new- there are always going to be those that struggle with the monster within.

What's lacking is any talent. Meyer comes across as a girl who had a crush on some boy named Edward and wrote in her diary (see: LiveJournal) about how wonderful it would be if they fell in love.

It's absolutely horribly written.

On another note, there is an undertone of abuse that worries me. I'm thinking now of the kids I used to coach in swimming who were obsessed with these books. There is a constant banter between Edward and Bella where he tells her that he "can't control himself around her" and that "she drives him crazy". He warns her again and again of his strength and she APOLOGIZES for her WEAKNESS; she's only human. I know that in later books (yes there is more than one in this series) they have sex and he leaves bruises which she tries to hide.

She. Tries. To. Hide.

I'm sorry. Fucking good Vampire or not a monster is a monster. Teaching our kids that people who say "I love you" always mean it and that it's your fault for being weak if they end up hurting you? That's just fucking nuts. I'm sorry, babies, but if your boyfriend leaves bruises or hurts you in anyway; if he's ever so out of control he doesn't hear or "process" when you say no or stop? That is your cue to: Walk (See: Run) The Fuck Away.


Anyways, my prognosis? Totally NOT worth it.


More moving today, I think. Most of the heavy stuff got moved yesterday. I have NO ganas. We'll see how I feel after a latte.

Day Eleven: Moving

Okay, so I'm moving house . . . again. I know that I absolutely should be more excited but mostly I'm just exhausted. I'm tired just thinking about: hanging clothes, folding clothes, hanging frames, framing pictures, cleaning, moving a couch, a table, my mattresses, my t.v., my d.v.d. player, my d.v.ds, et al.

Actually, I think that is all.

Anyways, more to come on the saga that is me moving house. Keep in mind that in the last year alone I have moved from my apartment to my house to Spain back to my apartment back to my house and now to this new house . . . and almost everything I own has gone to every single place. Awe. Some. Or, you know, not awesome, like, at all.

Day Ten: Annoyed

I'm still trudging through Twilight but I think I'll save my review (see: rant) for when I'm finished suffering.

I am annoyed today by the roofers next door who think I don't notice when they stop what they're doing and stare down into my living room windows where I'm stretched out reading. I know that I am the only woman you have seen in several hours and although I am younger than most of your daughters I'm probably cuter than most of your wives; However, I'm not as oblivious as I look, you freak-show, hardly-working, over-paid men. Oi. Vey.

Day Nine: Distracted

Okay, so, to be perfectly honest I'm super invested in the current Dog the Bounty Hunter episode and so this post isn't exactly . . . as focused as it probably could be. Can you blame me? No, no you can not.

The deal is I'm reading Twilight; or rather, I'm suffering through Twilight. My gift to you? You are going to suffer with me.

I have read 53 pages in which rain was referenced 33 times. I counted. I need a distraction from the plot or the lack of plot. In case you're foreign, the PNW (Pacific NW) is a lot like London and Dublin in that it has a reputation for rain. It's gray. Whatever. So. This book, written by a lady living down in Phoenix (Valley of the Sun she doesn't mind reminding us) decided to set her book in Forks, WA the rainiest place in the United States of America. She then precedes to tell us every time a rain drop touches the sad, pale head of our fearless if clumsy heroine. . . Every. Time. Every. Single. Time.

Great quotes so far?

Pg. 22 - "His face was turned away, but I thought his cheek appeared lifted, as if he were smiling, too."

Pg. 25 - "He was so mean. It wasn't fair."

Pg. 48- "I couldn't fathom his interest, but he continued to stare at me as with his penetrating eyes. . . "

So far in the story we have met Bella, an inexplicably pale girl from Phoenix who has moved to Forks to live with her father. She is drawn to a mysterious Model.Hot.Gorgeous.UnbelievablyBeautiful boy named Edward. He is mean and then he saves her life and then he's mean again. It rains. A. Lot. There is a lot of raining all day with the rain and one day it snowed but then it rained later.


Are you ready for this? Because, I am totally hooked . . . or baffled. Either way, this chick is a millionaire best-seller. I'm trying to ignore the part of my brain that says, Honey? This is a case of the Emperor's clothes. She has real talent, this Stephanie. Right? Right???

Day Eight: Nonsense

124 MILLION people have already watched this but I really couldn't let it pass by without posting it. I want this guy at my future kids 5th birthday party or my grandma's retirement - whichever. ALSO, OMG he IRISH dances to COTTON-EYE JOE! I mean, how many CAPS-LOCKED words can one video earn? A lot, apparently. (And, AND, bye bye bye at 5:12 not even kidding.)

Day Eight: Music

Embedding has been disabled BUT I think this video is well worth the trip over to YouTube.

The 88 - Coming Home aka That One Target Commercial

Such a perfect dance-while-doing-the-dishes song.

Day Seven: Facebook

An old co-worker from the Y reminds us: if you're gonna masturbate with a noose around your neck make sure you have a spotter.

Day Seven: Did you know?

Okay, so, I'm a total snot about intelligence. I am. I'm a prat, really. How many times a day do I say: did you know? No really, did you? I bet you didn't. Well, Thank God I Am Here, because now you know. So now, I'm trying to spare my friends and family from the constant nagging I do all day (but not at all succeeding because not 5 minutes ago I was watching a show about crocodiles and I turned to my dad and said did you know that. . .? And I never finished the question because my dad decided pretending to choke on his tuna was more important than finding out what it was that he probably didn't know but most certainly needed to).

Did you know. . . .
. . . American Crocodiles wear down their teeth so much and so often that they, in their life, go through 3000 teeth? Oh my god, the crocodile tooth-fairy is SO rich.
. . . Bolivia, a land-locked country, has a NAVY and this NAVY is harbored in Lake Titicaca (I shit you not, this is a real lake in a real country and it has a REAL navy)?
. . .no one really knows how the Oyster Cracker got it's name?

Day Six: Books

I have recently enjoyed:
Chuck Palahniuk's Haunted
Bram Stoker's Dracula
Annie Proulx's Accordion Crimes


Haunted is gross and creepy and deliciously perfect. Palahniuk is one of those writers that always, without fail drags me into his sadistic-masochistic imagination. Don't forget to take note of his social commentary buried as it is beneath spilled guts and severed fingers.

Dracula, a classic, has only recently captured and held my attention. I'm sure I was required to read this book at some point but Lord knows I only did about 1/10th of the reading that was ever asked of me. It takes a little effort to get invested but this story which has Vampires! and Werewolves! is excellently crafted and certainly terrifying.

Accordion Crimes isn't Proulx's best work, I'll say that. But, even on her off days this incredible writer is an all-time story teller. Crimes traces the origins of emigrant America through an Accordion crafted in Sicily. It's heartbreaking and at times isolating but I think it's a stark look at how La Merica became America, our home, sweet home.

Day Five: Annoyed

I don't understand why you think that it is OK for you to request PROMPT service when you make a point of telling me that you aren't going to tip me because a cute girl like me could totally be making better money elsewhere and if I'm not going out to earn that better money than I don't need yours (which is obviously hard earned, you trust-fund, silver-spoon asswipe.)

Day Four: Thinking

The thing with friends is you have to make the effort. Anymore, you won't be seeing them at school. Anymore, you won't be rooting for the same team or living in the same city. Anymore? You have to pick up the phone.

Day Three: Film

I was watching Last House on the Left with my mom and her sister (and they might as well be twins they look and act so much alike) and the movie was horrifically graphic and awful. Our reactions were much the same -- we all got up at various times or hid behind pillows. I held onto my dog and hid in her fur when it got particularly bad.

In general, I love horror films (some might say I am unnaturally obsessed with horror films). This, however, was brutal and disgusting. The little revenge that the victims do exact is minor in the face of what they had to endure; not to mention that the girl who was the true victim was able to exact no revenge at all except that she survived which, maybe, is enough.

It got me thinking though. At what point does horror become "torture porn"? And at what point do we sit back and look at ourselves and say Jesus, with everything that is going on, this, this made over $40,000,000? Really?!

New York Magazine ran an excellent article which discussed the recent popularity of movies like this in American cinema.

As for me, I didn’t understand why I was in that place either, watching through my fingers—or why I’d found myself in similar places many times during the past few years, at The Devil’s Rejects, Saw, Wolf Creek, and even (dare I blaspheme?) The Passion of the Christ. . . As a horror maven who long ago made peace, for better and worse, with the genre’s inherent sadism, I’m baffled by how far this new stuff goes—and by why America seems so nuts these days about torture.

Edelstein goes on to ask "Is there a masochistic as well as a sadistic component to the mayhem?"

And I think, maybe there is. I agree, also, that we are, as a society, a little numb. After 9/11 and Katrina so close together, after Bush and the economy collapsing, after being lied to so often about so many things we are a little numb. Maybe we are turning to these films to say "Hey, it's bad, but you know what? It ain't that bad. . . not yet."

Day Two: Thinking

I would be much more excited about moving house if I didn't actually have to move anything. Also, I was never told that my late teens and early twenties would be full of so much moving. . . I've lived in one dorm, one house, one apartment and now another house, not to mention Spain and all the summers I traipsed back home. I know it's nothing new and it's very much a first world complaint -- I mean, really, how long suffering am I? Boxing up all my Apple gadgets and my university textbooks, dragging crates of designer clothing and bags off cotton bedding . . . such a burden isn't it? All this stuff that I am allowed to own and keep and sell and lose without another thought.

It's true; I wouldn't survive a day in the real world - that world which exists beyond my little countries protected borders. It's a jungle out there, truly it is.

Day One: overheard

"Since when is prom a bitchy slut-fest?"

Apt question, indeed. Since when has this teenage right of passage been so rife with sexual expectations and impolite young women? Since when?

La raison d'être

The goal: To write at least one post a day for 365 days.

The challenge: To make every post interesting. Life, in all it's ordinary splendor, really is a circus; this blog should write itself.

Why? I say to you: Why not? World, I have been watching, I have been listening and I have been talking (Lord have I been talking). And now? Now I am writing.

Annoyed

Okay, so there’s this etiquette that I adhere to that I think everyone else should be forced to follow. When you, amigo, are on a bus, would you, please, give up your seat to that little old lady with all the bags and the cane? I know you’re tired from 8 hours of work but I think she’s exhausted from 80 years of LIVING.

Overheard

Characters
Man in coffee shop who has long sideburns and is wearing black.

Woman in coffee shop with man in black. She has a thick accent and is from India. (The fact that she is from India is not at all relevant but it IS interesting.)

T a friend who I keep in my pocket for situations just like this.

Me


Interior Coffee Shop. Day.
A man and a woman have just sat down with their coffees. The woman has a bagel and there is a pack of cigarettes between them.

Man: I’m really falling for this girl. I can’t stop thinking about her.
Woman: Wow, that’s great. Is she in the program?
Man: The program is anonymous.
Woman: I don’t know her name.
Man: Yes, she is in the program. She’s really pretty. She’s a vegan.
Woman: Is that why you’re wearing the Vegan Or Die shirt today?
Man: I’m meeting her later.
Woman: I’m happy for you.
Man: It’s going really well. I think I’m in love.
Woman: Does she feel the same?
Man: I think so. . .
Woman: Does she know-
Man: I’m not sure.
Woman: Did you tell her?
Man: I don’t know how to bring it up.
Woman: Just say: I love you but I’m still technically married to my ex-wife because I want to stay on her health insurance.
Man: You think that’ll work?
Woman: Why not?
Man: I’m glad you’re my sponsor. All my other friends are just not as supportive. They think she’ll run.
Woman: Why would she?
Man: I’m going to grab a cigarette, you want one?
Woman: Sure.

Me in a text to T: Just found you the perfect guy. Young, smoker, loves to talk about his feelings.
T in a text back: I’m not sure I’m ready for a commitment.
Me: I know! It’s perfect; he’s totally still married.
T: I’ll be there in 5.

Film: Battle in Seattle

Question: Have any of you seen Battle in Seattle, the recent docu-drama-film-thing from Stuart Townsend, and if you have, what did you think?

I saw it and I have mixed and very emotional thoughts about it.

Being a proud (snobby?) Seattleite doesn’t help. The whole time I’m watching I’m thinking: That’s my town, yo, please stop setting it on fire.

Stuart Townsend is a talented guy and cute, too, as far as I can remember. (He was in that one Vampire film forever ago, remember? Cute! Dangerous! At. The. SAME. Time.) He does well with this movie. It’s beautiful and gut-wrenching and in true Hollywood-Liberal style it slaps you in the face with the Way. Things. Are. And things? They are not so good.

I agree with a lot of what Townsend was spewing though I think he exaggerated to the point of damaging his own case. (For Example: At the end he says that 40,000 Indian Farmers committed suicide in 2003 when the real (and still horrific) number is 17,000. See, I don’t think there is anything NOT shocking about 17,107 suicides. In the province of Vidarbha there averaged one suicide EVERY 8 HOURS. I can’t even imagine. Things? They are not so good.)

However, I think Seattle is misrepresented in this film. Where are the hippies? The recyclers? The PETA members? The Vegans? We are not heartless. On the whole we are not ruthless, corporate assholes. We did not deserve the broken windows, the curfew, the police state. We did not earn the violence. And these things? These things that I love so much about my little liberal city? They were washed away by Stuart because let’s be honest -- protesters seem so much more noble against the bleak backdrop of a commercialized, brutish and brutal city scape.

Still, despite my initial visceral defensive response I do recommend this movie. Even to Seattleites. I say to you: Take Stuart’s message seriously. Take his delivery with a grain of salt.

Featured in this film: Fake Empire by The National



Final verdict? Worth it.

For more information on the WTO and the WTO riot in Seattle you can click HERE and HERE.