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.