My trip to France.

I am currently in Nice with my ex, and now friend, whom I refer to as Pants.  Tomorrow we fly to Paris.

Neither of us speak French, although I've figured out how to ask where places and things are, how much things are,  and some other useful things.  It helps that I speak some Spanish, and over the years have been able to puzzle out the Latinate roots of the so-called Romance Languages, and associate words with the English language.

Douche is French  for shower,  Bain is bath, etc. Summer's Eve is therefor a shower for the lady bits, from the inside. Bain du Soleil for that St. Tropez tan.  Sun bathing! Cirque du Soleil is circle of the sun!

That's how my brain works.  I first remembered that Suave meant smooth because of the singer Rico Suave,  and he was sorta smooth.  At least I think he was supposed to be smooth, although my impression of him from the video was that he was well-oil,  and thusly slippery,  which is kind of smooth.

But back to the trip.

We left Chicago at around 5p, and ended up at the CDG airport in Paris at around 10a,  after a nine+ hour flight during which neither of us could successfully sleep.

When we got to the airport,  I became immediately obsessed with converting my dollars into Euros,  and dragged Pants and our luggage around the airport to a currency exchanger, where we expensively swapped $300 for 184€ and small change. They took out a substantial fee,  but with my receipt I can apparently exchange up to 184€ and small change,  but won't have to pay a $5 fee.  Or maybe it was 5€. All I know I'd that I won't get it back,  but I also won't have to pay it again. Deal.

The we went looking for the train to the Orly airport, so we could catch our flight to Nice.  It took a while,  but we finally puzzled out how the ticketing machines worked,  but they only took credit cards and coin money, and it refused to accept Pants's credit or debit card.  I knew we had to ride the RER,  but wasn't sure how that related to buying tickets.

In Chicago,  you pay a flat fee to ride mass transit,  and it doesn't matter where you start from,  but probably does matter where you end, because they make you get off the method of conveyance at the end of the line.

So I bought 2 tickets for the RER for 3€90, which seemed reasonable to me.  We had to go far,  but it was just a simple straight shot.  And we tried to use these tickets,  only to get denied.

Eventually we stood in line and bought tickets for the trip,  which crossed various zones,  and ended up being almost 40€. Which I had to pay because someone didn't feel the need to exchange any of his own money when provided the opportunity. Granted,  he did nicely give me some spending money for the trip,  because I am poor and broken,  but then ended up taking it all back for fares and meals and the like.

We eventually got to Orly,  which I'd pretty much where the obligatory English translations seemed to end,  and the language barrier slid into place.  Thankfully, latte is already a French word,  and you can point at pictures and words on a menu to get your point across regarding food selection.

At the Orly airport,  you can get free 15 minutes of Wi-Fi,  before you have to pay for it.  Fortunately I had two different Wi-Fi devices with which to amuse myself,  and of course,  multiple email addresses with which to verify my existence.

The plane ended up being late,  so we didn't get going on time,  but people started queueing up way before the plane arrived,  and then stood and glared and huffed and puffed because they had to stand in line for twice as long as they should have, although Pants and I parked our asses the second they said the flight would be late,  because there are assigned seats on the plane,  and our carry on bags fit neatly under the seats in front of us.

Also,  I am posting this from my tablet with autocorrect,  and not with a real computer and keyboard,  so I apologize if spelling or grammar is wonky.

fifty shades: twiharder

This last weekend, I read the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. For free, mind you, courtesy of the interwebz. I might be curious about mommy porn, but I'm not spending money on it.

After starting book two, I decided I  really really wanted to rewrite the books, using words and mixing up the metaphors and descriptors*.


Because it reads like Twihard fanfic.  Badly-written twihard fan-fic.

Which it is. 

I made a comment about it on Facebook, and was thusly informed by Miss Proffitt (of GoodGirlsGoneGeek).


It needs a good trip through a writer's workshop. Maybe an extended holiday.


But the thing that really cheeses me off about the whole affair is that Vintage is the publishing house that won the rights to the books and published them. VINTAGE USED TO HAVE INTEGRITY.





*How many times can someone be wrapped around you like a vine, or elongate your nipples, or use the phrase "apex of my thighs." And when you have hot mind-blowingly amazing sex, please don't think, "HOLY COW." all the time. But, "Laters, baby." amuses me.

Don't even get me started on the whole inner goddess idiocy.

It all makes so much sense now...

I absolutely adore the movie "Love Actually."

And of course, I am powerfully fond of the show "The Walking Dead."

Today, I was watching HULU, and during a break, a commercial came up for a British series called "Teachers."

Watching the trailer, I realized that the main character on the show was Mark, from "Love Actually."

Then I heard his name.

Andrew Lincoln.

Holy fuck, it's Rick Grimes.

A baby, fresh-faced, British Rick Grimes.

Bwahahaha.

Computer Games.

In my day, we played Oregon Trail on paper. With a role playing sheet. The teacher told you when you died of dysentery, and you liked it. Or at least sucked it up like a plucky little TAG-program 3rd grader, by gum. 

Bacon Action Figure Felt Bookmarks!

The end of 2011 featured a very homemade Christmas.

One of the things I made was hand-embroidered felt bacon bookmarks/action figures and tree ornaments. Everyone that got them seemed to like them, and I thought that they might be a good thing to make and sell in the WePay and Etsy stores.

The first day I listed them on WePay and posted about it, no one bought any, so I told Jeffery that if no one bought one that day, I would come up with background stories for all of them.

All of them are available for $8 each from my WePay store.

Meet the Bacon Action Figure Felt Bookmarks:

A is an expert military and financial tactician, and a gifted historical cartographer - with a particular fondness for Qin State maps from the 4th Century, displaying tributary river systems of the Jialing River in Sichuan.

With A in the lead, you'll always know blue is for water, and when and how to use the better part of valor.

B's background is a little hazy.

Rumored to be a former black-ops agent, B is now the munitions expert and BAFFB's sniper extraordinare. 

 B is also a wise ass, and refuses to take a normal photo.













C speaks 47 languages, and is the team's most cunning linguist - any and all accents are used here.

Also a master of diguise, C studied under both Tony and Jonna Mendez, both having held the position of CIA Chief of Disguise.

C is gifted in the art and craft of identity transfer operations, including eluding hostile surveillance while working in enemy territory, and the use of stereotyping and the principles of disguise, magic and illusion.

If you need someone to drive it, ride it, fly it, steer it, walk captain it, or glide it, D is your go to bacon! Defensive driver, offensive boater, or savvy dirigible operator, if it moves, D can make it go go go.

D is also one hell of a train conductor... but don't ask about it.

 

E was originally tasked to work for the NSA, but was lured away by the massive array of top-secret, futuristic military technology available to the BAFFB team.

Hacker, cracker, coder sine qua non, E can get any piece of information from any source at any time, day, night, or otherwise.



 

Tired of the ridiculous superficiality of the Los Angeles cosmetic microsurgery scene, Russian emigre F originally wanted to get into combat surgery with the military, but after hearing about the elite BAFFB team, decided to sign up.

Utilizing the latest cutting edge medical technologies available, F keeps the team in tip top shape.

G's entire family was butchered by ninja samurai in a highly innacurate historical reenactment of  Custer's Last Stand. Unable to deal with the grief, G was sequestered away, vowing vengeance, and learning every form of martial arts known to man or bacon.

Eventually settling on Foo Young style, G is the resident martial arts specialist, and an unfortunate and terrible dark spot in the otherwise untarnished history of MMA cage fighting matches.

G is seldom captured on film.

The original five team members prior of the addition of F and G:

  

UPDATE: D is now driving an elementary school bus part time, having returned to civilian life.

Why I love the intarwebz.

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Favorite Finnish Sayings, pt. 3

One of Petra-Herre's phrases:

Vedä Vittu Päähän Ja Pakene Vuorille. Draw a cunt* over your head and flee to the mountains.

*See "Favorite Finnish Sayings, pt. 2" for an explanation.

Dear ABC News:

This is February. Primary Results are not Election Coverage. Election Coverage happens in November, when elections occur. Do not interrupt dramatic television programming to share that your network is projecting results. Wait until you have actual results, and then share the results with the public via some sort of news programming. Like Nightline News. Or Good Morning America. 

Last week, we dyed my hair a bright fuschia-ish purple.

I've been a slightly paler version of this in the past. 

The formula then was 3/4 lavender, and 1/4 violet, but this time we went half and half. 

Last time I kept my eyebrows blonde. This time I decided to fully commit. Go big or go home. 

I looked and looked and looked at all the make-up at Target, and found an eyeliner that is an insane shade called VIOLET BLAST! which matches my hair almost perfectly. 

 Now I think that when people look at me, it registers that something is off, but since the brows and hair match, it doesn't make the same impression it did last time. 

Barely anyone says anything about my hair except for black ladies and old men.  Or it could be that I don't work in the Southport Corridor anymore. I garnered a lot of stares and glares and gawks on the Southport Corridor. 

Working just off Clark and Belmont, my hair is averagely interesting. I mostly see flaming reds, hot pinks, and bright blues, but not a lot of purple. Sometimes some green, sometimes not. 

But other than a girl working at The Alley, I haven't seen anyone else match their brows.

Please note that in this photo, while the brows coordinate, they are not actually drawn in properly - this was just straight up color applied to my brows for fun. It just gives you a tiny hint of the possibility.

Sunday.

Sunday, I stopped at Hancock Fabric on the way to Kit's house, in order to purchase some yarn.  

Being that it was President's Day Weekend, there was a limited selection of colors and styles available, what with that being the weekend best used for the purchase of crafting goods, as well as the purchasing of fine home furnishings at deep, deep discounts.

 

After shopping, gearing up with helmet and gloves, and stowing my purchase beneath the seat of my scooter, an old man to the left of me in the parking lot asked, "Is that a commie pinko scooter?"

 

To which I replied, "No, it's a regular pinko scooter. You know, the fabulous kind."

 

He nodded thoughtfully, told me he liked my purple hair, then walked away from me across the parking lot to do his shopping at Walgreens.

Favorite Finnish Sayings, pt. 2

Emännällä ei ollu ku vittu ja virsikirja talohon tulles ja molemmat on kakarat repiny.
The missus didn't have anything but a cunt* and a hymn book when she moved in, and they've both been torn up by the kids.




*The Finnish and Regretsians use this word a lot. It's like calling someone a cock, except meaning a vagina instead of a penis. It is a very translatable word, apparently. Young Brits apparently use it a lot too, or at least that's what I've learned from television.

Things I like that you should like, too.

Web comics I read:

• Scandinavia and the World*
• Questionable Content
• The Oatmeal
• xkcd
• Diesel Sweeties
• Hark A Vagrant
• Louis vs. Rick
• Least I Could Do
• Looking For Group
• Simon's Cat **
• Wondermark
• Road Waffles

I have taken the liberty of linking to the first page of each comic, so you can enjoy them in sequence.

*Scandinavia and the World has actually taught me a lot about the countries, their customs, cultures, politics, protectorates, and in general, has made me laugh raucously. It also confirms whatever preconceived notions I already had about Finland.

**Everything about Simon's Cat is cute, but I only really care about the animaed bits, so I've directed you to the film section. You are welcome.

Favorite Finnish Sayings, pt. 1

Niin kiero, että syö rautanaulan ja paskantaa ruuvin.  So twisted, he eats a nail and shits a screw. Joka perseensä nostaa, se paikkansa menettää.   Who lifts one's ass, loses his seat.

WePay Etsy and Regretsy.

Because of Paypal's continued idiocy, a lot of FJLs* are moving from Paypal and Etsy to WePay. Not only can you accept and send monies on the site, but they also have rudimentary storefronts that will hopefully get better in the near future.


I am being an oppportunist and am keeping both stores, but will most likely go completely WePay when the interface is easier to use, and easier to shop.The sidebar to the right has links to my Etsy and WePay shops.


If you are interested in opening a WePay account, allow me to refer you... http://www/wepay.com/s2xsy9u


I belong to a site called Regretsy, and it is a hilarious community of snarky people who are also generous, kind, and awesome. One of the ongoing jokes is that everyone that uses Regretsy regularly is a *Fat Jealous Loser, thus the term FJL. This is just a quick primer to get you up to speed, in the neighborhood of speed, or at least in the same area code:

• April Winchell is the founder of Regretsy. She goes by the name "Helen Killer" on there, and her beau, John uses the moniker "Bronc Drywall."  
• The original intent of Regretsy was to showcase the best and the worst of Etsy, and then either praise or mock it. A book came out of it called, as you would imagine, "Regretsy."
• "Whimsicle Fuckery" is a term often used by FJLs. It is kind of good and bad and funny all at once. Something that possesses whimsicle fuckery is generally well-received by the people of Regretsy, and sometimes things that miss the mark aren't filled with enough whimsicle fuckery.
• CF4L. "Club Fuckery 4 Lyfe." The FJL oath, and also a more mature part of Regretsy. The password is cf4l.
• "Perkele!" means "Devil!" in Finnish, but is used wherever you would exclaim, " Shit!"
• FJLs love Finns. They drink and swear and party and are stabby, but loyal.
• April has written a book called "Regretsy's Big Book of Fabricated Finnish Folktales," which is hilarious, and entirely illustrated by people from Etsy who are also FJLs.  
• The coolest Finn is Petra-Herre, a pal of April's from when she went to Finland, and has inspired Petja-Palooza, happening in NYC this year. 
• Petja-Herre is a dapper gentleman that is Finnish. He often says amusing things, tells hilarious stories, and teaches FJLs new words and phrases. Most of them are dirty.
• "douchecanoe" is a negative term 
• "twatwaffle" is a negative term
• "amazeballs" is ecstatically high praise
• "If you stick/glue some gears and watch parts on it, it's Steampunk." is a well-known fact.
• Many things are not Steampunk. Lots of things on Etsy are listed as Steampunk, but aren't really. Most are either stupid as hell, or misnamed vintage crap or Victoriana.
• Octopi and Owls are something uber Etsy, and super overcrafted. Octopi are often mistaken for Steampunk things, but lack the requisite gears and watch parts.
• As a rule, Regretsy and FJLs have a basic contempt for Etsy (the actual company) and the employees that work there. Etsy headquarters is often referred to as "Cupcakeville." Etsy loves owls, almost pathologically.
• "Crease and desist" is from a letter by someone who didn't like being featured on Regretsy. Ironically, if your item is filled with the right kind of fuckery, you will most likely sell it to an FJL that day.
• "I made this in my artistic ability." is a phrase from an Etsy listing that has become a running joke.
• Resellers are people who try to pawn off goods they bought from a mass supplier like Alibaba, as their own.
• Chinese Resellers are people selling factory goods being sold as handmade by an individual. Like mass-market wedding dresses. They are generally Chinese.

Nana Cricket

The other day at the store, I learned from the labels on the cat food bags that I have been feeding my cat inappropriate food for her age. Apparently, 7+ years of existence turn cats into senior catizens.

So, it got me thinking about all the things Cricket does, and senioritis would explain a lot of it.

Peeing in inappropriate places? Lost track of what she was doing on the way to the litter box and just had to go.

Staring at nothing and meowing incessantly? She started meowing about something, forgot what she was meowing about, and keeps meowing in the hope that whatever she was meowing about will either happen, or she will remember what all the meowing was about in the first place. And then it will happen.

Losing her hair and going bald? The sheer amount of hair she sheds is staggering. She should be a little old kitty with three hairs on her body, but manages to be intensely furry.

White hairs? She's salted heavily with white hairs throughout her black fur.

Most of these are things she's been doing since kittenhood.

The only real thing that I've noticed that actually makes sense is that she used to be more of a dare devil. She would leap from place to place without a thought, and now she hesitates before attempting simple things like jumping from the bed to my lap. Instead choosing to aim for the ottoman, which is about a foot closer.

But still.

So now Cricket is eating healthier than I am, and her eyesight, joint health and over all body condition will be awesome while she lives for the next 30 years, just to spite me.

two

The other day, I was walking to my scooter from Kit's house, and noticed a dirty tablespoon - the piece of table flatware kind - in the gutter. Two days later, walking across the street from my apartment to drop off a rent check, I noticed a dirty teaspoon - another piece of table flatware - in the gutter. Two totally different sizes, patterns and functions.

A few days later, I was riding the train to work, when the girl in front of me said to the girl sitting beside her, "Hey, look. It's a coyote," as she pointed out the window at them.

A few seconds later, she said, "Hey, it's the other coyote," repeating the gesture.

And damned if there weren't two coyotes wandering around, nosing the ground.

I have heard tales of cemetery coyotes for years, but have never seen one. 'One approached me when I was walking my dog past the cemetery, and growled at us.' 'My dog and I were playing, and a coyote came up and tried to play with my dog.' 'My neighbor saw a coyote rustling through garbage on that path behind the cemetery.' 'A coyote ate my baby.' Whatever.

For some reason, I always pictured a coyote hiding out at Wunder Cemetery, but I very clearly saw both of them in the Irving Park Cemetery across the street. And I never thought there would be more than one.

Two days ago, I rolled 2000 miles on my scooter. I was expecting this to occur as I crossed Irving Park on Broadway, but it didn't happen until I crossed Belle Plaine, a few streets up.

Last night, I bought two laser pointers - one for Schnarf and one for Cricket. I was only going to get the one for Kit's cat, but they were like $4, shaped like mice, and came in metallic-looking pink plastic. Also, I'd seen how much Schnarf enjoyed the one Kit had before it disappeared, and figured maybe it would get Cricket off my back for a while.

Cricket is roughly ten years of age. She's never seen a laser pointer before last night. She loves to chase things, as most cats do.

Now imagine that you've been deprived of the most amazing thing ever that meets all your needs and requirements for entertainment that you didn't even know existed, for TEN years. Now imagine all that potential energy manifested in the shape of seven pounds of grumpy, bony-butted, whiny cat, spontaneously bursting into kinetic energy expenditure.

The fact that I didn't have to scrape her off the ceiling amazed me.

new hobby.

I've recently taken to spraying random things around the house with catnip spray, and then watching Cricket go to town on them until she's all goofy.

It all started with a toy she used to love, but has avoided like the plague as of late, and then moved to other things.

"Who loves the rug? Who loves the rug? Awwww... You love the rug!"

"Is that your pillow? Do you love that pillow? Aww... The pillow loves you too!"

And so on.

Exciting Times, 2011

1. April 13, Neil Gaiman - One Book, One Chicago @ Rockefeller Chapel
2. April 17, Chris Hardwick @ Zanies Comedy Club
3. July 14, Cibo Matto @ Lincoln Hall
4. Sept 23, They Might Be Giants - Vic Theatre
5. Dec 2, Neil Gaiman (also: Karl Cassell, Peter Sagal, Paula Poundstone, Alonzo Bodden & Nick Hancock) - Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me! BBC America TV Taping @ Chase Auditorium

hooray for boobies, not.

I find it incredibly infuriating that my whole life I had small, extremely manageable breasts, and then I turned 38 and grew cumbersome tits.

I like being flat-chested. Anything more than my handful is a burden, not to mention a complete waste of sweater meat.

The best part of living in the bell jar for a year was that I weighed so little that I was stacked like a scrawny twelve year-old boy.

But these things... they're just so... OUT there. Occupying space, being prominent, succumbing to gravitational forces in new and hideous ways, and generally forcing me to wear a bra with structure and substance.

Nothing that zips up the back will close above mid-back.

When I sleep, drive, or use the computer with the cat sitting next to me on the chair, I have to hike the right one up, and shift it out of the way.

It isn't so bad in summer, because I wear a lot of loose and flowy things that aren't affected by boobage.

But this winter, I am discovering that all of my cooler weather shirts are all 2 inches shorter, which is unacceptable. Suddenly everything is a belly-shirt, which isn't rocking when you're cold and/or sporting a muffin top.

My ribcage and general torso (not counting the mammaries) are small-framed, but everything that fits me won't fasten over the boobs. Which forces me to go up a size or two, and ends up making me look like I live on a farm and am about to go out and slop the hogs in button down tops, or a slovenly hoodlum in tees and knit shirts.

Seriously, I'm considering binding my chest. I miss my teen sports bras, and I cannot abide bending over to pick something up and having my shirt ride up and flash my panties or ass crack at peeps.

there are few words to convey the sorrow in my heart.

In 2007, Dad decided that at Christmastime, he was going to open up $2k TD Ameritrade accounts for the three of us girls, that we'd have access to and input upon stock choices to learn about and appreciate the importance of long term investment.

At some point, early on, I asked him to buy 5 shares of Apple, which he did. I was interested in seeing how the next generation of Zune and iPhones being launched were going to affect the market share prices, etc.

He bought five shares around 85, as well as some other stocks, and for a few years I followed the stocks, and was very pleased as the Apple stocks doubled, then tripled in value.

At least a year ago, for some reason, the password changed on the account, and it wasn't a big deal, but I kept tracking the Apple stock, which today closed around 4 times what was paid for it.

Which would make me happy, except for the fact that about an hour ago, Dad told me that he dumped all the stocks a while ago when the market was all "bearish."

When I asked him why on God's earth he would dump the Apple, which should conceivably always appreciate in the long run - for Christ's sake, Allie has a Mac - he said he just doesn't understand the market anymore.

I'd like to know when exactly he _did_ understand the market, and am asking him to remove me from the account.

I am really fucking disappointed, to say the least. When the chips have been down, I've always at least had the warm thought of having made a very financially sound investment in the stock market.

I had been wondering lately how the whole Apple TV and Beatles iTunes discography developments, not to mention the Verizon iPad and upcoming iPhone ventures, were going to be reflected in the stock in the new year, which I guess is now just an exercise in torturous mental masturbation.

The joke was always that someday I'd probably be able to retire on Apple.

Now it's just salt in the wound.

Crushing, crushing, depressing disappointment.

Merry fucking Christmas Eve.