Why I love the intarwebz.

Created by Oatmeal

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.

alls i wants for xmas is...

$$$$$

Bare Escentuals Foundation in FAIR

Escada Marine Groove EDP

Vera Wang Princess

rednoosh earrings

Amazon gift cards

Target gift cards

Michaels gift cards

TJX gift cards

Knitting loom (see Amazon Wishlist)

Amazon Wishlist items

Delicious maple syrup

academic realizations and life frustrations.

I came to the realization today that most likely the only reason I made it through college is because everything I excelled at was creatively driven, or allowed me the opportunity to learn to make things.

Creative writing and poetry writing were both things I enjoyed, and all of the classes I took in art and botany required hands-on physical creation and interaction.

Also, the art history and botany classes required massive amounts of visual identification and memorization, which I am able to do very well in short term bursts. Long term? I still know a few things, but I've definitely forgotten more than I know.

I would love nothing more than to have studio space to craft and create jewelry, and make a living from that. It would be massively incredible to use what I learned in college and what I've learned about art-making and crafting since graduation to support myself.

But realistically, I have neither the space nor funding to acquire a space in which to do these things, nor do I have the start-up capital to invest in raw materials, and then the funds to get by while I am establishing myself in the industry.

I do have a mountain of existing debt, and a job that I love which doesn't cover all of the bills, but I have yet to really find something to do that fills in that economic breach. No one wants to hire me for anything, except for a season position that ended with Halloween.

Good thing: I'm invited to return to the costume sales industry come next Falll. Bad thing: Note the when part.

One of the things I liked about the costume store was getting to see people in the costumes, not only because it was fun, but because I could learn about fit and sizing and materials, in order to better help other customers with the costumes. Inside knowledge is awesome.

Every time I go to a store like Joann Fabric or Michaels, I am angry that disinterested, unknowledgeable people are working somewhere where I am well-suited for employment. I am the perfect fit for that environment - I love customer service, stocking, merchandising, I know all about arts and crafts, and would welcome the opportunity to learn more about things of which I am ignorant - but I have a sneaking suspicion that WOTC-eligibility is a bigger incentive to hiring parties than knowledge.

(Big box stores and grocery stores aren't even interested in me, and I have management experience, for criminy's sake.)

So I am currently living off the "largesse" of the JP Morgan Chase Card Services Division.

Reality, part one.

Wah, wah, wah…oh woe is me.

I don’t know if anyone remembers Save Karyn.

Some of you may have already seen my rant on this topic when it was fresh news, but its been a while.

She was a high-earner living in the Big Apple, with a lavish lifestyle.
There was an economic downturn, and she got the pink slip. In denial, she continued to live the lavish lifestyle until she was $20,000 in debt.

She created an online journal where she chronicled the daily struggle of learning to live like regular folk do…

• Not cabbing everywhere, but rather riding public transportation.
• Instead of buying a really really expensive short sweater, cropping down down a really really expensive longer sweater until it was the appropriate short length.
• Bringing a salad from home for lunch wherein lurked wilted lettuce, which she ate.
• The clever idea of drinking and socializing with her friends at home, instead of going out to bars and restaurants.
• Hosting the gatherings and having other people bring comestibles and drinkables, so she doesn’t have to spend money to entertain.
• Taking extra bottles of wine left from her gatherings to gatherings hosted by others, thus saving the expense of a bottle of wine, and still being a good guest.
• …

You get the idea.

Sympathetic people sent her gift certificates for food and gave her monetary donations to help her out.


From her end, she sold a bunch of her designer wordly goods on eBay to pay the debt off.

Then she went on talk shows to talk about her website, wrote a book about the whole experience, went on more talk shows to discuss the book, and had the book option for a movie by Sony Pictures.

I don’t know if the movie Confessions of a Shopaholic has any connection to Karyn, but she seems to at least have been an inspiring jumping-off point for the writers.

This whole thing was brought to mind today, because while I was rooting around in my closet looking for summer-weight pants that aren’t black, denim, or way too small, I rediscovered an old denim skirt I haven’t worn for years.

Lately, I have been bemoaning the fact that the word skirt is apparently the street-name for low-slung frilly belts.

This skirt did actually have a denim ruffle around the bottom, which was easily removed, so I now have another piece of summer clothing. However, unlike Karyn, I merely transformed a $12.99 skirt from Target into a $19.99 skirt from Target. But I digress…

In Iowa City, Kristen lived relatively comfortably - okay pay, no major debts, a nice place to live, a nice car to drive, and a full tummy, a little savings In the bank.

Then this starry-eyed dreamer saved up $5000, which after expenses - rent/deposit, furniture, utilities - was about $3200, and moved to Chicago, secure in the knowledge that she had a job waiting for her with the same company, a place to live, a nice car to drive, and the beginnings of a wonderful new life.

The new life included such wonders as: a hit-and-run accident the 5th day she lived in town, which cost a $500 deductible to fix, a 32-hour a week job paying $7/hr, and a much higher cost of living.

Despite shortly starting a better paying job, she continued to live the lavish lifestyle she had in Iowa, and credit card bills started to accumulate.

Jobs changed, pay decreased, sanity increased, and bills continued to pile up. Kristen had to get a new car because hers was tainted with mold and cost more to fix that it was worth. Eventually, she owed around $25000 to Toyota financial services and various credit card companies.

Then the job ended, the income ended, and the bills continued to mount, as well as regular living expenses. Thanks to a generous and kind loan from Mom, she was able to eke out a living doing hair on the side while the job search began…

It sounds so much better in the third person.

Reality, part two.

These days, I find myself in an untenable financial situation.

I have a job, working at a nice private salon, where the boss is great, and I have almost limitless possibilities for growth… if we had a clientele. People come in here and there, and I do have my own clients, but they are few compared to the availability I have open on my schedule.

I have worked at all of the commercial salons available in this city - I won’t do Supercuts, Fantastic Sams or Great Clips. I can’t stand behind a chair everyday doing 20 $8 haircuts on the unwashed masses.

The pay is shitty, the stylists that work there are generally unintelligent, unskilled bitches, and the environment isn’t conducive to positive mental or physical health.

I know it is a job, and it is in my field, but those chains are concerned with quantity over quality, something that is the diametrical opposite of my work ethic.

Imagine Rick Bayless working at Taco Bell, or Bobby Flay working at Burger King.

I have been searching for a second job doing anything, and I have discovered that I am unqualified to do about everything. In those formative years where young people work in bars and restaurants, do internships, and generally develop a varied skillset, I already had a vocation and career doing hair.

In this job market, in Chicago, hell - in general, experience is required. I am not qualfied to bus tables, much less work in an office or specialty store of some kind.

I applied at over 30 salons after I left the HC, and only two deigned to interview me. I also applied for at least twice as many non-salon positions, with nary a call-back. I ended up working at Asha, but I was never a good fit with that place.

The people that work there tend to go out to cocktails after work with their girlfriends, wearing 5-inch stilettos, sexy designer clothing. They spend their income on fripperies and doodads.

I always felt like an outsider and a second-class citizen, never quite in on anything, and not really worthy or anyone’s time.

The pay was also shitty - they grossly misrepresented the facts and figures when I was hired and then lied about it to my face when I called them on it, they are most assuredly are violating federal minimum wage standards, they really don’t support new staff at all, and I was miserably unhappy.

Unfortunately, unless you walk into a lucky situation with pre-existing salon clients, you don’t make a lot of money. And it can take 6 months to 2 years to really have a solid client-base and a fat paycheck.

The salon where I work is a newer salon, starting out with a teensy established clientele, in a location that has largely been ignored by anyone but the employees of the hospital across the street. Someday we will own the people at that hospital. But for now we settle for the slow build.

regrets...

Yes, I've had a few.

I wasted money going to art school.

I pretend that I use what I've learned everyday at work. I guess I do, but it isn't art.

All the other people I know who have gone to art school are now artists. They might have day jobs, but they create art.

A girl I work with went to the Art Institute, does massage during the day, and makes gorgeous, hand-tooled, lovingly created, visually-stunning handbags and leather goods when she's not on the job.

Another girl at work went to design school, works behind the desk doing office coordinating things, and creates interesting and wondrous textile and fiber arts. Currently, she's working on crocheting tentacles for a friend's art installation of ethereal jellyfish and other creatures of the deep.

I craft, but it's half-assed craft. Sarcastic cross stitch, wire-work jewelry, knitting squares and rectangles.