Kit called me in a panic earlier because her hair was janky, she had a date, and the place around the corner she would normally go to was closed.
So, I scooted on over there to save the day.
When her hair was acceptable, I helped advise on shoes and accessories, and then packed up and got ready to go.
She wanted to know how much to pay me, and I told her it was done as a friend.
So she gave me a bag of conversation hearts, wished me a happy Valentine's day, and I went my way.
She seems to be having a good time on her date, last time I checked.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Saturday, February 13, 2010
a few thoughts...
Holy fuck! The last two episodes of "Dollhouse" alternately blew my mind, and broke my heart. I snuffled through the last 30 minutes of story. That was epic anime-quality story, and I mean that as a serious compliment. Okay, the last 2 minutes were a little weak, but they accomplished what they needed to accomplish. Good job, Joss.
I got the skinny envelope from Sine Qua Non. Apparently, despite perpetually advertising and hiring for their numerous salons, they found a candidate more in line with what they were looking for, and they wish me the best.
I might like you better if you play Mobsters or Overdrive on Facebook, btw. JOIN MY MOB/CREW already.
I am rewriting my resume to better reflect my personality, which is strangely difficult to accomplish. I think my other resume was too stuffy and wordy, so I changed the layout, tweaked the hell out of the info, and made sure to include my ability to MacGuyver almost anything back into working order.
My kitchen is still disturbingly clean.
I want to know where the hell the two discs I put into the mail are at, because Netflix doesn't seem to have them, and I don't have new things to watch.
I got the skinny envelope from Sine Qua Non. Apparently, despite perpetually advertising and hiring for their numerous salons, they found a candidate more in line with what they were looking for, and they wish me the best.
I might like you better if you play Mobsters or Overdrive on Facebook, btw. JOIN MY MOB/CREW already.
I am rewriting my resume to better reflect my personality, which is strangely difficult to accomplish. I think my other resume was too stuffy and wordy, so I changed the layout, tweaked the hell out of the info, and made sure to include my ability to MacGuyver almost anything back into working order.
My kitchen is still disturbingly clean.
I want to know where the hell the two discs I put into the mail are at, because Netflix doesn't seem to have them, and I don't have new things to watch.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Dear Salons Allegedly Hiring Stylists in the Chicago Area:
I am a doer, a crafter, and a maker of things.
Rather than be judged solely on the merits of my abilities to motivate staff and generate income as a salon, I would prefer to be recognized for my technical merits as a stylist.
I am a listener and a thinker, and I have a strong rapport with people sitting in my chair... they tell me what they want, and I give it to them, often exceeding their expectations.
I am an alchemist. I turn lead into gold, ash into cream, mouse into merlot, straw into silk, straight into curl, and vice versa.
I am a creator and a skilled artisan. My medium is hair. I cut and sculpt and design. I color and retexturize. I curl and straighten and coif using a variety of tools available to me.
However, I find myself being assigned a skill-set based solely on the places I have worked, as opposed to an expansive and diverse skill-set built on years of experience and education from a variety of sources.
The artistic creative director of a well-known international haircare line taught me, hands-on, how to cut an entire seasonal collection's worth of styles.
I have taken cutting and trend classes from at least a score of acclaimed stylists and educators working for well-respected companies in my industry.
But, I have been boiled down to a chain-salon hack by two little words: Hair and Cuttery.
And two scathing more: Ulta Salon.
And probably even these accursed three: Department Store Salon.
Oh, and we mustn't forget the crippling status of SALON MANAGER.
I pass out my resume left and right, and the few interviews with which I have been begrudgingly given invitation to attend have made me feel very discouraged.
The Aveda salon at which I have interviewed would want me to completely quit cutting hair the way I have learned to do over the past decade-plus, forgoing the use of clippers and razors and whatnot for the pure, unsullied use of shears.
It absolutely used to boggle my mind at the inability of people graduating from Aveda schools to cut mens hair shorter than a couple of inches in length. That's because they only teach them how to cut hair with one tool: the shears basic to our trade. No experimentation with other methods of cutting are required or desired.
Now I understand.
And, because I have no experience with Aveda color, despite specializing in color and years and years of working with oodles of different color lines, many of which I have had to use pure extrapolation to convert formulas from one brand to another - with great success mind you, I would not be allowed to do color on clients for a couple of months until I had taken a series of color classes and then gone through a monitored probationary period of color application to mannequins and models until deemed fit to work on paying customers.
Oh, and that's only if they call me back in the next couple of weeks for a technical interview, and want to then offer me employment.
I also interviewed with a Bumble and bumble salon. Prior to even interviewing me, they had determined by reading my resume that I would have to go through at least 4 to 6 months of junior stylist training and classes before being allowed to work on the client floor, because of my limited skill-set.
Also provided that they invite me back in the next several weeks for a technical interview, and still want to hire me.
I honestly believe that they would rather take fresh grads and bend them to their will through a year or so of intensive training, than give someone like me a chance.
Speaking of fresh grads, did you know that in the state of Illinois, you graduate with 1500 hours of academic experience, the majority of which is theoretical and untested?
The beauty school attendees graduate, take a standardized knowledge-based test on a computer, and enter the workforce.
Stylists fresh out of school can't cut hair. Seriously.
Most of them also don't understand color theory, or have a very limited knowledge or understanding of how to perform chemical services.
They either enter an apprenticeship or junior stylist program with a fancy salon, or they go to a chain salon and learn by experimentation on clients, watching other stylists work, and from being taught behind the chair by their managers and coworkers, or taking basic cutting/coloring/styling classes provided by the company.
Hell, most of them don't seem capable of curling someone's hair with a curling iron, much less pinning it up into a hairstyle.
The only thing newly graduated stylists seem to uniformly be capable of doing is a decent blow dry.
Oh, and they all seem to think that they have mastered the art of using a flat iron.
By the way, many of the educators at schools like Pivot Point have been doing hair less than two years themselves, and some of them have NO actual salon experience. They go through the curriculum, graduate, get licensed, and then turn around and learn how to teach the curriculum to new students.
In Iowa, you go to school for 2100 hours. The last 4 - 6 months of school is almost exclusively spent on the client floor, getting a shitload of experience working with hair and refining techniques, under the supervision and tutelage of practicing cosmetologists who are also instructors.
I graduated school, went to state boards for both practical and knowledge-based testing*, and then went to work for a private Aveda salon.
For the first 3 months, I was an apprentice, only allowed to work on the hair of request clients, or to provide manicures, pedicures or facials to anyone who wanted them. I learned a lot through observation, unlearning a few stupid things I'd been taught at beauty school, and did a lot of scalp massages and washing of client hair as a shampoo girl. Oh, and I ran a lot of errands.
After 3 months, they decided my talents were better spent behind the chair working on paying customers because I was good at doing hair. That isn't to say I didn't spend some time being an aesthetician and nail tech, because no one else would do it, but I was an actual, licensed, business card-carrying stylist.
Not once, in the last 15 years, has any salon ever questioned my ability to perform my job without compromising the integrity of my client's hair, regardless of salon business model or designated time allowance.
I need a job, you need experienced stylists... how about giving me an opportunity to shine for you, instead of treating me like an undesirable idiot?
...
*Now in Iowa, much like here in Illinois, you can't graduate from school until you are capable of passing what would have previously been the practical portion of the state board test. And then you take a standardized knowledge-based test on a computer.
I went to school with people that graduated school, went through state board prep, were deemed ready for state boards, and still never passed the practical portion of testing, thusly never becoming actual hairstylists.
I don't trust the quality of stylists graduating from either Illinois or Iowa schools anymore.
Rather than be judged solely on the merits of my abilities to motivate staff and generate income as a salon, I would prefer to be recognized for my technical merits as a stylist.
I am a listener and a thinker, and I have a strong rapport with people sitting in my chair... they tell me what they want, and I give it to them, often exceeding their expectations.
I am an alchemist. I turn lead into gold, ash into cream, mouse into merlot, straw into silk, straight into curl, and vice versa.
I am a creator and a skilled artisan. My medium is hair. I cut and sculpt and design. I color and retexturize. I curl and straighten and coif using a variety of tools available to me.
However, I find myself being assigned a skill-set based solely on the places I have worked, as opposed to an expansive and diverse skill-set built on years of experience and education from a variety of sources.
The artistic creative director of a well-known international haircare line taught me, hands-on, how to cut an entire seasonal collection's worth of styles.
I have taken cutting and trend classes from at least a score of acclaimed stylists and educators working for well-respected companies in my industry.
But, I have been boiled down to a chain-salon hack by two little words: Hair and Cuttery.
And two scathing more: Ulta Salon.
And probably even these accursed three: Department Store Salon.
Oh, and we mustn't forget the crippling status of SALON MANAGER.
I pass out my resume left and right, and the few interviews with which I have been begrudgingly given invitation to attend have made me feel very discouraged.
The Aveda salon at which I have interviewed would want me to completely quit cutting hair the way I have learned to do over the past decade-plus, forgoing the use of clippers and razors and whatnot for the pure, unsullied use of shears.
It absolutely used to boggle my mind at the inability of people graduating from Aveda schools to cut mens hair shorter than a couple of inches in length. That's because they only teach them how to cut hair with one tool: the shears basic to our trade. No experimentation with other methods of cutting are required or desired.
Now I understand.
And, because I have no experience with Aveda color, despite specializing in color and years and years of working with oodles of different color lines, many of which I have had to use pure extrapolation to convert formulas from one brand to another - with great success mind you, I would not be allowed to do color on clients for a couple of months until I had taken a series of color classes and then gone through a monitored probationary period of color application to mannequins and models until deemed fit to work on paying customers.
Oh, and that's only if they call me back in the next couple of weeks for a technical interview, and want to then offer me employment.
I also interviewed with a Bumble and bumble salon. Prior to even interviewing me, they had determined by reading my resume that I would have to go through at least 4 to 6 months of junior stylist training and classes before being allowed to work on the client floor, because of my limited skill-set.
Also provided that they invite me back in the next several weeks for a technical interview, and still want to hire me.
I honestly believe that they would rather take fresh grads and bend them to their will through a year or so of intensive training, than give someone like me a chance.
Speaking of fresh grads, did you know that in the state of Illinois, you graduate with 1500 hours of academic experience, the majority of which is theoretical and untested?
The beauty school attendees graduate, take a standardized knowledge-based test on a computer, and enter the workforce.
Stylists fresh out of school can't cut hair. Seriously.
Most of them also don't understand color theory, or have a very limited knowledge or understanding of how to perform chemical services.
They either enter an apprenticeship or junior stylist program with a fancy salon, or they go to a chain salon and learn by experimentation on clients, watching other stylists work, and from being taught behind the chair by their managers and coworkers, or taking basic cutting/coloring/styling classes provided by the company.
Hell, most of them don't seem capable of curling someone's hair with a curling iron, much less pinning it up into a hairstyle.
The only thing newly graduated stylists seem to uniformly be capable of doing is a decent blow dry.
Oh, and they all seem to think that they have mastered the art of using a flat iron.
By the way, many of the educators at schools like Pivot Point have been doing hair less than two years themselves, and some of them have NO actual salon experience. They go through the curriculum, graduate, get licensed, and then turn around and learn how to teach the curriculum to new students.
In Iowa, you go to school for 2100 hours. The last 4 - 6 months of school is almost exclusively spent on the client floor, getting a shitload of experience working with hair and refining techniques, under the supervision and tutelage of practicing cosmetologists who are also instructors.
I graduated school, went to state boards for both practical and knowledge-based testing*, and then went to work for a private Aveda salon.
For the first 3 months, I was an apprentice, only allowed to work on the hair of request clients, or to provide manicures, pedicures or facials to anyone who wanted them. I learned a lot through observation, unlearning a few stupid things I'd been taught at beauty school, and did a lot of scalp massages and washing of client hair as a shampoo girl. Oh, and I ran a lot of errands.
After 3 months, they decided my talents were better spent behind the chair working on paying customers because I was good at doing hair. That isn't to say I didn't spend some time being an aesthetician and nail tech, because no one else would do it, but I was an actual, licensed, business card-carrying stylist.
Not once, in the last 15 years, has any salon ever questioned my ability to perform my job without compromising the integrity of my client's hair, regardless of salon business model or designated time allowance.
I need a job, you need experienced stylists... how about giving me an opportunity to shine for you, instead of treating me like an undesirable idiot?
...
*Now in Iowa, much like here in Illinois, you can't graduate from school until you are capable of passing what would have previously been the practical portion of the state board test. And then you take a standardized knowledge-based test on a computer.
I went to school with people that graduated school, went through state board prep, were deemed ready for state boards, and still never passed the practical portion of testing, thusly never becoming actual hairstylists.
I don't trust the quality of stylists graduating from either Illinois or Iowa schools anymore.
Monday, January 25, 2010
housekeeping
I feel completely comfortable in saying that I would willingly lick any surface of my cooktop. That level of clean may not amaze you, but for those who have entered my domicile, it's a downright miracle.
Now, if I could just figure out why the oven billows black smoke when you turn it on...
Now, if I could just figure out why the oven billows black smoke when you turn it on...
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
improving dill falls
I am sad with my little population of one.
Help make me mightier, so that I might outdo my neighbors!
http://dill-falls.myminicity.com/
Help make me mightier, so that I might outdo my neighbors!
http://dill-falls.myminicity.com/
Monday, December 22, 2008
confessions of a craigslist troll
I love to read the "Casual Encounters" section of Craigslist.
It's like tragic, soap opera porn.
Mostly it's people looking for one-nighters or to indulge some sort of fantasy that clearly isn't being met by their regular sexual outlet. Lots of guys looking to give or receive oral with some lucky lady, some jungle fever itches that need scratched, chubby chasers looking for love, etc.
But sometimes it's just so inconceivably goofy, that I can barely contain my perverse glee at reading the delightful offerings. Long, detailed descriptions of scenarios people want to act out, bizarre listings for things like free housecleaning services when all the guy really wants is to wear your bra and panties and have you boss him around while he rearranges your closets for you, or even fiction and poetry:
It's like tragic, soap opera porn.
Mostly it's people looking for one-nighters or to indulge some sort of fantasy that clearly isn't being met by their regular sexual outlet. Lots of guys looking to give or receive oral with some lucky lady, some jungle fever itches that need scratched, chubby chasers looking for love, etc.
But sometimes it's just so inconceivably goofy, that I can barely contain my perverse glee at reading the delightful offerings. Long, detailed descriptions of scenarios people want to act out, bizarre listings for things like free housecleaning services when all the guy really wants is to wear your bra and panties and have you boss him around while he rearranges your closets for you, or even fiction and poetry:
"One cum, two cum, three cum, fourPlus, there are even DIRTY PICTURES!
That’s what I need from my dirty little whore
Gagging your face and pounding your ass
To the outside world you had so much class
"Don’t think that we’re finished, oh we are not done
The cuddling, the kissing, the gentler fun
All this and more is yours to acquire
When to be my submissive is what you desire"
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Sunday, October 26, 2008
potpourri
I would like to take this opportunity to thank Matty for the box of Gaiman-y goodness. It took me like 6 weeks to pick it up from the post office, but when I finally opened it up in the car, I did the happy dance seat wiggle, and texted some love.
Thank you for brightening my day, you wonderful gay boy from Iowa.
Oh, and if anyone's keeping track, I'm now sporting a short, messy, bleach-blonde pixie crop again.
And I don't know what to be for Halloween. Last year I was a Hot Topic store manager. This year? Meh.
But I do know that I want a Oral-B spinny-headed sonic toothbrush for Christmas. (The one that's like $60 at Target.)
I also want a peticure, or whatever the hell you call the cat grooming tool that files the nails shorter.
Today I took a prescription in to Target pharmacy to get filled because I get points for shopping there, and was told it'd be about 15 minutes to fill. I went back about 25 minutes later, and I was informed that they couldn't give me my prescription because while it was filled and sitting in the basket waiting to be claimed and paid for, the pharmacist was on lunch until 2pm, and they legally couldn't dispense anything while s/he wasn't present.
Maybe they coulda told me that when I dropped off the script, since the pharmacist appeared to be at lunch then, too.
When I said I prolly wouldn't be able to pick it up until Monday now, the dude shrugged and said he was sorry that he couldn't help me.
Thank you for brightening my day, you wonderful gay boy from Iowa.
Oh, and if anyone's keeping track, I'm now sporting a short, messy, bleach-blonde pixie crop again.
And I don't know what to be for Halloween. Last year I was a Hot Topic store manager. This year? Meh.
But I do know that I want a Oral-B spinny-headed sonic toothbrush for Christmas. (The one that's like $60 at Target.)
I also want a peticure, or whatever the hell you call the cat grooming tool that files the nails shorter.
Today I took a prescription in to Target pharmacy to get filled because I get points for shopping there, and was told it'd be about 15 minutes to fill. I went back about 25 minutes later, and I was informed that they couldn't give me my prescription because while it was filled and sitting in the basket waiting to be claimed and paid for, the pharmacist was on lunch until 2pm, and they legally couldn't dispense anything while s/he wasn't present.
Maybe they coulda told me that when I dropped off the script, since the pharmacist appeared to be at lunch then, too.
When I said I prolly wouldn't be able to pick it up until Monday now, the dude shrugged and said he was sorry that he couldn't help me.
virtual, schmirtual.
I have an account on a 3D-avatar site called IMVU.
In the past it's been a great source of entertainment and friendship, but more and more it's become a place of disappointment and heartache.
For some reason, of all the thousands of chat rooms I could be hanging out in, a virtual dance club with bunch of regulars that are socially-maladjusted nerds seems to be the place I feel most comfortable calling home.
Most of the people on there are broken in some way or other, much like in most online communities.
And almost without fail, every single time I care enough about someone to actually consider them a real friend, they disappear.
I seem to combine the best of video games and anime with all the fun of a therapist and friend... Talk to an ultra-hot neko cat girl in a see-through kimono, or a winged pixie in chain mail, and she'll not only entertain you in a variety of ways, but be an irreverent flirt, an ego booster, a conscientious listener, a shoulder to cry on, and solve all your problems lickety split.
It's like I give the magical gift of being able to function in the real world without the need for virtual anything anymore.
Except who do I get to talk to when they're all fixed and go away?
In the past it's been a great source of entertainment and friendship, but more and more it's become a place of disappointment and heartache.
For some reason, of all the thousands of chat rooms I could be hanging out in, a virtual dance club with bunch of regulars that are socially-maladjusted nerds seems to be the place I feel most comfortable calling home.
Most of the people on there are broken in some way or other, much like in most online communities.
And almost without fail, every single time I care enough about someone to actually consider them a real friend, they disappear.
I seem to combine the best of video games and anime with all the fun of a therapist and friend... Talk to an ultra-hot neko cat girl in a see-through kimono, or a winged pixie in chain mail, and she'll not only entertain you in a variety of ways, but be an irreverent flirt, an ego booster, a conscientious listener, a shoulder to cry on, and solve all your problems lickety split.
It's like I give the magical gift of being able to function in the real world without the need for virtual anything anymore.
Except who do I get to talk to when they're all fixed and go away?
Thursday, October 02, 2008
callooh! callay!
Ba'et bashak ushlay pachzar
Be'afsay-chak savsu, makdo:
au az chilcain haya nimzar
umtay-aran kairdu.
Be'afsay-chak savsu, makdo:
au az chilcain haya nimzar
umtay-aran kairdu.
"Gura bnee, min hapiton
mai 'chod-shino, chil-ziparno!
mayof-girgir tanoos, za'on
maychetesh bim'gono!"
Vehu shalaf saypho hachaz:
nad, cheepace et pechik-tzarav --
veko amad betzel zamzam,
tapoos beheerhoorav.
Odo omed shefa hagoot
vehapiton, einav dolkot
veesh'vesh beya'ar hamanood,
ho'e'ah venakot!
Bim'chi chazooz - habas! habas! -
ticktaich hasayif benimhar
natal et rosh pigro hazed
ve'el beito tzahar
"Af ketalto, et hapiton?
achabkecha, yaldi hatzach!
ho yom-tzilha! yabah! yabah!
bechedvato patzach.
Ba'et bashak ushlay pachzar
Be'afsay-chak savsu, makdo:
au az chilcain haya nimzar
umtay-aran kairdu.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
hey baby, wanna let me back you up with my zip drive?
dear usher,
thank you, thank you, thank you for the song "dot com.*"
it has been the source of inspiration for many a new pickup line, as demonstrated above.
with your guidance, my cybering skillz will now be that much more l33t.
with much dot love,
pixie
*dot com - usher
oooo i love the way ya dirty type
i can take you home ON ESCAPE
oooo i need your backspace in my life
thank god you don't have a flatscreenplease...baby I got to see you
and I really want to please you
so get on my laptop so I can downloadonline...I love the way you log on
we can do it all night
I'll make you dot com
baby if you sign on
I'm gon make ya light up
oo baby if you log on
I'll make you dot comI wanted to link up with you baby at first sight
with you I get to use my f keys...yeah..
I can't wait to give you megabites
I got all the memory you need
let ma fingers do the talking babeplease... baby I got to see you
I really want to please you
so get on my laptop so I can downloadonline...I love the way you log on
we can do it all night
I'll make you dot com
sign on
I'm gon make ya light up
baby if you log on
I'll make you dot comoooo.. baby you want this I know
I can't wait to give you my harddrive
my moonlight...if it's alright
baby...ooh I'm always at your window
ready to shift and control you
if you want me to....say yes baby
say yes baby
say yes baby
say yes baby
got to say
ooo say yes baby
say yes baby
got to say yes
yes, say itplease..baby I got to see you
online....i love the way you log on (AWW BABY)
cause I really want to please you
so get up on me baby get up on me
( OOO I really want you)
we can do it all night (WE CAN DO IT ALL NIGHT)
i'll make you dot com (IM GONNA MAKE....)
sign on (SURE YA HAVE IT BABY)
i'm gon make ya light up (GONNA MAKE YOU LIGHT UP)
oo baby if you log on (OOOOO)
i'll make you dot com (IMMM GONNA MAKE YOU DOT COM)
online....i love the way you log on (GIRL WHATS UP, DO YOU WANNA LINK UP...::SCATS:: DO YOU WANNA LOG ON)
we can do it all night
i'll make you dot com (IM GONNA MAKE YOU, IM GONNA MAKE YOU..OH COME ON)
sign on (U-S-H-E-R, W-O...R-L-D DOT COM)
i'm gon make ya light up
oo baby if you log on (OOO BABE)
i'll make you dot com
Sunday, June 29, 2008
okay, i'm not dead...
i'm just feeling realllllly undermotivated to post.
thank you jimmer, for the gift of spa, and thankoo to matty for the gift of my own literary choice.
birthday 36 in less than two weeks, kinda freaking me out.
i dyed my hair purple, for either the fun of it, or some sort of anti-old age rebellion thing.
i'm always tired, i need a vacation, and i haven't been watching any television at all!
work is fine - lost a stylist and gained two, so we're up to 11 now!
still no special anyone in my life...
status quo, pretty much.
*smoochies*
thank you jimmer, for the gift of spa, and thankoo to matty for the gift of my own literary choice.
birthday 36 in less than two weeks, kinda freaking me out.
i dyed my hair purple, for either the fun of it, or some sort of anti-old age rebellion thing.
i'm always tired, i need a vacation, and i haven't been watching any television at all!
work is fine - lost a stylist and gained two, so we're up to 11 now!
still no special anyone in my life...
status quo, pretty much.
*smoochies*
Sunday, March 16, 2008
<3
Two little boys sitting on the ground, outside of a nail shop.
Their mother walked up, saying "Come on, let's go."
One of the boys exclaimed, "I can't get up! The kryptonite is taking away all my powers."
She repeated back to him, a hint of incredulity in her voice, "You can't get up because the kryptonite is taking away all of your powers?"
Sighing, he nodded slowly, which was when I noticed his cape.
...
Skampy got a new tattoo.
I was thinking about the things that have held my interests for the longest time, and came up with Ancient Egypt and Hello Kitty.
I fell in love with Ancient Egypt somewhere in the midst of high school, but I first loved HK in third grade.
I have three Egyptian-inspired tattoos.
...
Today I learned that you can get a Hello Kitty credit card.
I also stumbled across this most excellent site, which I like because in many ways I agree with the man.
And did you know that Hello Kitty has her own kitty named Charmmy Kitty? It's kind weird to me, but she's still in my heart.
Their mother walked up, saying "Come on, let's go."
One of the boys exclaimed, "I can't get up! The kryptonite is taking away all my powers."
She repeated back to him, a hint of incredulity in her voice, "You can't get up because the kryptonite is taking away all of your powers?"
Sighing, he nodded slowly, which was when I noticed his cape.
...
Skampy got a new tattoo.
I was thinking about the things that have held my interests for the longest time, and came up with Ancient Egypt and Hello Kitty.
I fell in love with Ancient Egypt somewhere in the midst of high school, but I first loved HK in third grade.
I have three Egyptian-inspired tattoos.
Maybe it's time for discrete new ink somewhere on my person.
...
Today I learned that you can get a Hello Kitty credit card.
I also stumbled across this most excellent site, which I like because in many ways I agree with the man.
And did you know that Hello Kitty has her own kitty named Charmmy Kitty? It's kind weird to me, but she's still in my heart.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
rand-o-mite!
- I know a woman named Andrea. People have mis-heard it so often as "Angela," her nickname over time has become "Ang."
I call her "And." - Comedians of Comedy is so funny I had to rewatch parts of it.
Yay Patton Oswald!
As an aside, I only watched Ratatouille because he was the voice of Remy. It was a cute flick, but Mr. Oswald was what sold me. - Hye Bar short pours.
If I am still completely lucid & coherent after 4 drinks and 2 shots, and not over-enunciating or using reallllly big words because I can, something odd is afoot. - Being a little tipsy loosens up my inhibitions enough that cleaning and organizing all of the actually sounds like a good idea, and not horrific torture.
Randomly speaking:
Sunday, January 20, 2008
waveland wild kingdom
As I parked my car on Waveland today, between Greenview and Jenssen, in my periphery vision, I noted something dark-colored rapidly hurtling out of the sky and then hitting the sidewalk in an explosive white poof.
Wtf?
For the life of me, I thought that maybe someone had violently thrown a brown feather pillow or a box of styrofoam peanuts out an upper-story window.
But looking out the passenger window, I realized that the dark object was a small brown bird of prey - later identified as a peregrine falcon - sitting atop a large, puffy white feathery thing, presumably a pigeon, surrounded by at least a couple dozen white feathers of all sizes.
As the feathers skittered and danced upon the ground, and the peregrine moved back and forth on its feet, kneading the pigeon upon which it sat with its talons - much like a cat on your tummy, it occurred to me that this might be the time for a fabulous photo op.
Unfortunately, my windows were so dirty that I couldn't really clearly make out the pile of bird through the lens, at least well enough to identify it as anything beyond a blur through a dirty, sun-stricken window.
And then as quickly as it had fallen to earth, the peregrine exploded upwards into the sky, trailing white feathers like a vapor trail.
Looking a little confused, the pigeon then suddenly popped up, and fluttered a bit unsteadily on the ground, before launching itself into the air, also trailing white feathers like a vapor trail.
Then the two of them did a swooping little air ballet, before rocketing off in different directions.
And if Fe and Ro hadn't called off, I wouldn't have gone to work an hour earlier than normal, and I certainly wouldn't have seen that.
Wtf?
For the life of me, I thought that maybe someone had violently thrown a brown feather pillow or a box of styrofoam peanuts out an upper-story window.
But looking out the passenger window, I realized that the dark object was a small brown bird of prey - later identified as a peregrine falcon - sitting atop a large, puffy white feathery thing, presumably a pigeon, surrounded by at least a couple dozen white feathers of all sizes.
As the feathers skittered and danced upon the ground, and the peregrine moved back and forth on its feet, kneading the pigeon upon which it sat with its talons - much like a cat on your tummy, it occurred to me that this might be the time for a fabulous photo op.
Unfortunately, my windows were so dirty that I couldn't really clearly make out the pile of bird through the lens, at least well enough to identify it as anything beyond a blur through a dirty, sun-stricken window.
And then as quickly as it had fallen to earth, the peregrine exploded upwards into the sky, trailing white feathers like a vapor trail.
Looking a little confused, the pigeon then suddenly popped up, and fluttered a bit unsteadily on the ground, before launching itself into the air, also trailing white feathers like a vapor trail.
Then the two of them did a swooping little air ballet, before rocketing off in different directions.
And if Fe and Ro hadn't called off, I wouldn't have gone to work an hour earlier than normal, and I certainly wouldn't have seen that.
Monday, December 31, 2007
the plague settles in.
We here at Camp Pixiemartin would like to assure you that despite the fact that I have the plague, courtesy of my momma, I am otherwise rockin' the free world. (Is it too late to put that lump of coal in your stocking, dude? Maybe I can get you a strip mining tour for your birthday! Or even a tour of the nearest and most conveniently located strip mine!)
("Oh no, but I sold my foot to get you the lump of coal for your stocking!" and "Oh no, but I sold my furnace to get you a stocking, so you could have one too!" Woe is us. Woe are us?)
I am hopped up and dopey on some arcane combination of dextromethorphan, guaifenesin, loratadine, opemrazole, ethinyl estradiol, norgestrel, bupropion, citalopram, and pseudoephedrine.
Yes, that pseudoephedrine.
The ever-lovin' precursor to methamphetamines. (You know, when I was a kid and relied on OTC allergy relief, I probably took enough pseudoephedrine pills to keep a mid-sized meth lab in operation for at least a week. Provided that someone else supplied the other ingredients needed. I don't even know where to begin to look for the fertilizer.)
I had to give the pharmacist my driver's license and sign some paperwork to even get my hands on the stuff.
To be honest, I was pretty much off my rocker pre-pseudoephedrine, so here's to looking forward to the show in the next few hours, to which I happen to have the best seat in the house.
I also have tangerines, water, juice, juicy gels (pre-fab gelatin in cups), tissue, an array of remote controls, a pile of pillows, and a stack of movies, none of which I can recall the titles to at this point in time. Gravedancers, maybe? I think Ratatouille for sure.
Yay cooking rats!
Yay Patton Oswald!
Yay not having to work today or tomorrow!
Oh oh oh... I'm forgetting.
If the doctor I saw today is cool enough, I should be able to get my prescription for Augmentin filled for like $10. Instead of $150 or so. Of course, I have to wait to get it, but still. (And if he isn't cool, I have a sharp shovel and a drop cloth in my trunk.)
And dude, Juno got 3 Golden Globe awards! I don't even know the chick, but I sorta feel like I do because of her web omnipresence and the fact that I've read her book. Boo-yah! Go Diablo Cody, go!
Thank you for reading our rambling missive, and rest assured that Pixie will soon be down for the day, and totally staying away from sharp objects. With gelatin. And remotes. And possibly even guest appearances by none other than Cricket Martin and her kitty, Posey Martin!
Bye now.
("Oh no, but I sold my foot to get you the lump of coal for your stocking!" and "Oh no, but I sold my furnace to get you a stocking, so you could have one too!" Woe is us. Woe are us?)
I am hopped up and dopey on some arcane combination of dextromethorphan, guaifenesin, loratadine, opemrazole, ethinyl estradiol, norgestrel, bupropion, citalopram, and pseudoephedrine.
Yes, that pseudoephedrine.
The ever-lovin' precursor to methamphetamines. (You know, when I was a kid and relied on OTC allergy relief, I probably took enough pseudoephedrine pills to keep a mid-sized meth lab in operation for at least a week. Provided that someone else supplied the other ingredients needed. I don't even know where to begin to look for the fertilizer.)
I had to give the pharmacist my driver's license and sign some paperwork to even get my hands on the stuff.
To be honest, I was pretty much off my rocker pre-pseudoephedrine, so here's to looking forward to the show in the next few hours, to which I happen to have the best seat in the house.
I also have tangerines, water, juice, juicy gels (pre-fab gelatin in cups), tissue, an array of remote controls, a pile of pillows, and a stack of movies, none of which I can recall the titles to at this point in time. Gravedancers, maybe? I think Ratatouille for sure.
Yay cooking rats!
Yay Patton Oswald!
Yay not having to work today or tomorrow!
Oh oh oh... I'm forgetting.
If the doctor I saw today is cool enough, I should be able to get my prescription for Augmentin filled for like $10. Instead of $150 or so. Of course, I have to wait to get it, but still. (And if he isn't cool, I have a sharp shovel and a drop cloth in my trunk.)
And dude, Juno got 3 Golden Globe awards! I don't even know the chick, but I sorta feel like I do because of her web omnipresence and the fact that I've read her book. Boo-yah! Go Diablo Cody, go!
Thank you for reading our rambling missive, and rest assured that Pixie will soon be down for the day, and totally staying away from sharp objects. With gelatin. And remotes. And possibly even guest appearances by none other than Cricket Martin and her kitty, Posey Martin!
Bye now.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Holiday Wishlist Revisited.
- Amazon or Borders gift certificates/cards.
- cash.
I need new shearling slippers, Mom.And the lady delivers.
mini-muffin silicone baking pan.The wrong size, mind you, but still.
- a massage &/or facial.
Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End.Now I've seen it twice!
- The Goonies.
- Target gift cards.
A new black, size small Liz Claiborne Women's Leather Scuba Jacket.
Not one that looks like it.
Just this exact jacket.
Yes, the very same one I already wear and have beaten to near-death.
I don't care where you get it, or for how much or little money it costs.
And I don't mean that in a demandingly snotty princess way, just in a "$5 on eBay? Great! Your BFF has a brand new one in the hall closet and wants to give it to you for free? Great! $500 from France? Great!" kind of way.
Carson Pirie Scott and Bonton have it for sure, but they probably also have it at Younkers or any CPS sister store. And don't forget to ask your BFF.My mom rocks like 50-times harder than your mom. Serious-like, yo.
Love you momma!- Robert Sabuda's The Chronicles of Narnia Pop-Up, based on the works of C.S. Lewis.
- Robert Sabuda's The Wonderful Wizard of Oz: A Commemorative Pop-Up, story by Frank L. Baum.
- A Littermaid. Or a CatGenie.
I mean, really, should I ever actually need to touch stinky-ass cat litter?
Especially when I've been working all day, only to come home to find a nasty pile of presents in the litter box?
It isn't like the act of poop scooping makes me humble or more aware of the world around me.
If anything, it makes me have unkind thoughts and words for and about certain small, relatively innocent fuzzy denizens of this here residence. - The Pocket Paper Engineer, Volume I: Basic Forms: How to Make Pop-Ups Step-by-Step (Spiral-bound), from tif 'n wil.
now I need to get the second book in the series.
- victoria's secret jammies from one of my stylists,
cute, but too big and exchanged for something my size. damn v.s. is expensive!
- a bling-encrusted velvet BCBG track suit from another one of my stylists,
comfy and pimp-tastic!
- a grow-your-own santa, magic towel, gelato lipgloss, and fruit roll-ups, from Secret Santa K,
they said the santa would grow up to 600 x his original size, which I think they exaggerated slightly.
- glow-in-the-dark skull key-toppers, called "skeleton keys" from Secret Santa K,
dude, you only wished you were cool enough to have one of these.
they were even so cool that I had to spread out the coolness so it wasn't at toxic levels. so I gave 1 to Tif, 1 to Fe, 1 to Jo, 1 to K, and kept 2 for me. - a blingy skull teapot and mug from Secret Santa K,
- hershey's kisses from one of my stylists,
- body butter, bubble bath, and bath tools (loofah, slippers, etc.) from even yet still another one of my stylists,
- a very goth-y chrome skull candle holder,
when I finally get down to decorating the ol' dungeon, I will apparently have one less candle holder to buy. wooooo. spooky.
- a white iowa sweatshirt and a pink hawkeyes t-shirt duo,
which magically turned into 2 new brassieres upon entering the intimates department at Younkers!
- 2 pairs hello kitty fuzzy jammie pants, one each pink and green,
yay fuzzy warm and cute!
just like l'il ol' me! - a $50 gc to walmart,
which promptly turned into a tank of gas (at $2.81/gal, I might add), 16-pounds of cat food, contact solution, and 10 pairs of socks,
- a new alox swiss army knife from matty,
sadly, it has no tweezers or a toothpick. I picked it out though, so it's my own loss.
- a box of holiday junior mints from one of my stylists, Fe,
- a box of delicious chocolates from the Colorado cousins,
- a pewter fairy card-holder for my station, from a lovely one of my stylists,
- and the plague from my mom.
thanks mom, being sick rules. or maybe i am hallucinating that part.
I also received:
I reeeeeeally do.
I really want to like London Ink.
I've watched it for several hours now, in fact. (Thank you DVR!)
And it's sooooooo bloody boring.
I really think I can't stand any more.
Which shocks me a little.
Sorry, luvs.
I've watched it for several hours now, in fact. (Thank you DVR!)
And it's sooooooo bloody boring.
I really think I can't stand any more.
Which shocks me a little.
Sorry, luvs.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)