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Blogger tricked me and now I'm in the new Beta one. I feel used. Cheated. And a little dirty, though that may be unrelated.
Yesterday it snowed for about a minute. And what a glorious minute it was. Now it's back to grey. Grey grey grey. I haven't taken any pictures of the city lately so I tried to find one online to show you all the grey. Apparently, people only take pictures of Portland when it's sunny. So for 10 days a year...everyone breaks out the camera. Anyway, this was the best I could come up with. You can see the cloudy blehness. I work next to that tall tall rectangular building. You know, FYI.
I just went out to get a sandwich and buy some tights. While waiting for my turkey on wheat to go, I 
looked around the room at the patrons of the Bagel Bistro. Most of them were heavy. Strange. No real point to that observation, but still. There was this rather large and homely woman reading a bodice-ripper over a mound of food leavings. This struck me as sad. You know the books I'm talking about...there's an example here on the right. A funny funny example.
Anyway, those novels make me irate. Have you ever read one? No? I'll tell you why, then. First of all, they're female porn. Yes they are. The lack of pictures doesn't make it any less pornographic, especially since women are cerebral and men are visual. AND they use words like "manroot" and "member". Which is just wrong. Any woman that scoffs at men for liking porn and then runs off to read such drivel is a hypocrite. Yes they are.
Anyway, my point was this: seeing large, homely women reading novels about being captured by shirtless buccaneers and whisked away to Barbados to be de-virginized (don't worry, she loves it) among the slaves who are too scared of the master and his dark, brooding-yet-hot temper to save the damsel but that's ok 'cause she fell in love with him when he called her a "tawdry wench who thickens his lust" - probably sets an unrealistic expectation of romantic love. Don't you think?
Anyway, I pilfered the book covers from this site, if you haven't already, go to it. I know it's old news for some, but the two below had me practically peeing my pants. You know, in a good way.
LOOK AT THAT FACE. Not mine. His. Have you ever seen such a chubalub? That child is TWO MONTHS old. He's giant. And he looks guilty there...like he stole and ate the entire turkey. He didn't, but he CAN pretty much hold his head up for several seconds. I know. It's exciting.
So other than monopolizing my new nephew, the only thing I did on Thanksgiving was eat non-stop. Literally. And then I took some home with me and ate it there. I'm a big fat cow. And then the rest of the weekend I ate more. Why? Because I could. Eating is a social thing to do...and I'm a social girl. Remeber that weight I lost in Morocco? Yeah. Back with a vengeance. I blame the pilgrims. Smallpox and obesity, that's what they to be thanked for. Jerks.
So people who don't post the weekend are lame. I can say this now because it's Sunday night and I'm posting. I don't usually do this. Yes, I bordered on lame. Teetered, if you will. But I'm ok now. Thanks for asking. But there's some serious TV to go watch so I'll be off now. We had a Robert Altman-a-thon at the res last night. It was exhausting. The only way to recoup is with a little Family Guy, you know?
WHY? Why'd you have to go and DIE? You did such fantastic things (with the exception of supporting Lindsey Lohan's "acting" career). I remember the first time I saw The Player. "Pay attention to the tracking shot", my Dad said, "It's one of the longest ever filmed". And while they did the shot...the actor's dialogue was ABOUT the famous tracking shot in Orson Welles' Touch of Evil. Brilliance, BRILLIANCE. And that's what Altman was, effing brilliant. And this I remember thinking in the first 10 minutes of that film.
Don't get me wrong, not everything he did was great. I remember finishing Short Cuts and being like 'whaaaa?" but the man took chances with film. No one seems to do that anymore. Except for maybe Wes Anderson. Even Soderbergh went all commercially stagnant. I blame Julia Roberts for that. I also like to blame her for traffic, splinters and the existence of Snowbabies.
But the man was inspiring. He helped drive my interest in film...an interest that directed me towards a film major in college. A degree that I'm now wasting in...well...this wasteland of e-mail marketing. Rosebud.
Regardless...Robert Altman brought Popeye to life for me...my childhood hero...and for that I can never thank him enough. So I'm pissed at him for dying.
I refuse to switch to the new blogger. You hear me? REFUSE!
Was on the bus yesterday and this guy with one rotten tooth was all, "Excuse me, do you work at Dantes?" (local bar/music venue).
And I'm all, "No." (and then laugh condescendingly).
And then he's all, "Are you sure? (world's stupidest question...yes, I'm sure asshole) I'm not hitting on you or anything, but there's this girl who works there that looks just like you. Like...you could be twins".
And then I'm all "Yeah, I get that a lot".
And he goes "Seriously, just like you..." (launches into description of what could be ANYONE).
The point of the glorious dialogue above is this...I have the world's most common face. You wouldn't believe how often the above conversation happens to me. Usually within 10 minutes of meeting me, people have someone they can compare me with. I'm just like their roommate in college, or their cousin's wife, or the mentally ill woman on the corner of such and such who screams the fortunes from fortune cookies at passing cars. Usually I find it amusing, but sometimes, it's just plain creepy. I had some guy follow me around an Urban Outfitters once because he SWORE I was someone he went to school with. Don't you think I'd KNOW where I went to school? Honestly!
My neighbor-who-smokes-a-pipe-but-looks-way-too-young-to-be-smoking-a-pipe is moving out too. So then it's just going to be The Vampire and The Sorority chick in the building, at least until the Vampire sucks her dry too. Alas. Hopefully it will implode of its own volition. Can a building have its own volition? It should. If it could feel it should be manically depressed. Either way, once I'm out, I won't care a fig what happens to it. A FIG, I say!
I took some cough syrup last night for my...well...cough...but I think I took it too late in the night. It has Vicadin in it and I had a really hard time waking up and have felt a little drunk all day. It was really bad until I shoved some lunchtime sushi down my own throat. With chopsticks.
Anyway, my coworkers have been mocking. I suppose it's well deserved. Everyone knows how dangerous doing e-mail advertising can be when you're on the sauce. But I didn't know it would last this long! And it tasted like citrus fruit candy! Damnit!
So I want to post an I SAW U ad for:The Guy on the MAX (train) at 5PM wearing iPod earbuds. I'm the Blond Chick also wearing iPod earbuds. You're hot...let's get an alcoholic beverage and imbibe it together.And see how many responses I get.
Yes, I've joined the iPod clan. I used to spend my bus rides home counting the people with them and then imagining what they had to go without for a month in order to afford the outrageous extravagence that an iPod is. That's before I got one.
In my defense...I didn't really get one. I stole it from my mother. And in my defense again, I stole it with her permission, so it's not legitimate theft. And in her defense...she had this gorgeous new video iPod that she NEVER used and she understood that this is a crime against nature/humanity/electronics and that it needed to go to a good home where it would be loved and made to feel useful.
I provided that home. And now the bus crazies have to breach a wall of Interpol and Nina Simone to get to me. So far it has been inpenetrable. Yes, I just wanted an excuse to use that word.
Anyway, I rode the train to see Babel with Amy g. I'm conflicted over wheither or not to give this film a good review, because there was one story element that didn't seem to fit and it bugged. However, the scenes from Morocco are incredible and the places that they filmed are many of the places I saw. Ironically, one of the things we discussed from our Sahara Excursions van was how much it would suck if anyone needed a hospital out there. And then they went and made a movie about it. I am an idea generating MACHINE!
On the train I saw the most beautiful man I've ever encountered. I wanted to bite his lower lip. There were two problems with this. 1. I'm sure he'd take issue if I approached him and bit his lower lip being that I'm a stranger and all. 2. He wasn't actually on the train. He was on the bus that pulled up next to the train. Bitter bitter fate.
Blogger tricked me and now I'm in the new Beta one. I feel used. Cheated. And a little dirty, though that may be unrelated. 
looked around the room at the patrons of the Bagel Bistro. Most of them were heavy. Strange. No real point to that observation, but still. There was this rather large and homely woman reading a bodice-ripper over a mound of food leavings. This struck me as sad. You know the books I'm talking about...there's an example here on the right. A funny funny example.
