Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Storm's a-Brewin'

I generally hold that there are two reasons everybody's on the same page: something in the water and barometric pressure.§

[SUMMARY: My "study," my rules.]

Since Jody and I only live a couple of zip codes apart, and since storm system after storm system% is breaking on the Rocky shores, I'm blaming this techno-dreaming trend# on barometric pressure.

[SUMMARY: I feel so validated right now.]

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

FOOTNOTE (crossed): OK, maybe three; we'll also accept "spring has sprung" as a reason.

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I generally attribute those seemingly-contagious pregnancies to something in the water.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): When I'm cranky and everybody around me is cranky, usually. No, I don't believe I'm bringing everybody down.

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Yes, we're on a first-name basis. She and my brother did some writer thing together and that's only one degree of separation -- and a blood degree of separation at that. Blood is thicker than Bacon.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): The weather page, like the weather itself, may be capricious. So for posterity's sake:

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Of course it's a trend. Once you get two points on a graph, you can draw that line.

How Meta

So last night I dreamed I was blogging about blogging and I kept getting interrupted as I went to gather links and there was this one link I kept thinking I got, only when I went to click "publish post" I hadn't ever got that one particular link and I'd start to Google for the right link and someone would come in the office and I'd miss again and it happened so many times I started to footnote§ it to tell the story of how many times I'd *nearly* found the link and I woke up and I started thinking about blogging about blogging about blogging in my sleep and now here I am, blogging it all and it's kinda like standing between two parallel mirrors.

[SUMMARY: Blogging is a verb.]

FOOTNOTE (crossed): Usually when I get to this point with work, I threaten to get a job at McDonald's.

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I think it was to a blog.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Those who can't blog, footnote.

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): And I fear that between Facebook and Twitter and blogging about dreaming about blogging about blogging I may find that tiny loose end in the space-time continuum and inexorably tug on it and unravel the whole thing.

It'll Be Very

Old news,† but worth the call-back: Heathers, the Musical.

{via Cinematical}

Dudes! Remember all the fun we I had posting Heathers quotes when we I made the Heathers scarf?

[SUMMARY: The world is my oyster.‡]

I feel a song coming on...

FOOTNOTE (crossed): I was saving it for a rainy day. Then a snowy day. Then a clear day. And here we are!

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): More the pearl-potential thing than the slimy, briny thing.

Monday, March 30, 2009

Doodle Art Wardrobe

{Do-It-Yourself Dress via Yatzer}


It'd be just like the old days. Only wearable.

Colour Me Random

When last I cleaned off my camera, I had an unusually large collection of random shit. Enough to make a whole blogpost. Enough, even, to proclaim a photojournalistic pig-licking.

[SUMMARY: My pig, my rules.]

NOTE: Click for big is your friend here in today's offering.


Jack 'n' Grill on Federal has marvelous food. They also have the new Wall of Jack§ and these Marin-friendly bathroom signs:


Dad has cleaned out the tool annex in the Peach's basement. There is a bank of very cool drawers, reminiscent of the days when libraries had card files.# One is now labeled, "Trowels, etc."


Hans spotted this outfit from my window. We spent many, many company-sposored minutes trying to figure out what in the hell she was thinking††:


This guy was working in our parking lot. He measured something. Then he sawed the end off that something. Then he made some notes. Then he put something else on his wheeled sawhorse and measured it. Then he cleaned up and left. I kinda wish I'd gotten a movie of it.

I'm guessing that at $8/day, this is the cheapest shop space in town.


"Yellow squeeze bottle mustard" listed as an organic ingredient. So... specific:


Before my break-up with Barnes & Noble,‡‡ I was perusing the knitting books at lunch one day and noted a new trend in the fibre arts§§:


Two days snowed in, you'd think I'd be more ambitious.

[SUMMARY: Thinking never did anybody any good.]

Tomorrow? Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps¶¶...


Péché Cardinal - Amandine Marie for Parfums MDCI

Marin says: There is a moment when the juice first hits the skin when you@ usually get a completely different scent than you do even two seconds later. It's like the ghostly haze that hovers in the neck of a beer bottle right after you open it## -- there, then gone.

This one is pure Jolly Rancher in that moment: sugary, synthetic, recognisable for its candy version but nothing like the real thing.

You blink and it's different.

Then it's peach, bright and sun-drenched... then mixed with champagne, perhaps. It's bubbly and bright. After a bit, it smells like tuberose and peach with a touch of that tawny port smell I call raisin, but always ends up being plum.

Somewhere along the line, something very round, like amber, and something prickly and dry, like cedar, rein the tuberose in a bit and give it round depths and linear highs.†††

Luckyscent% says: Péché Cardinal is an enticing froth of sinful and sweet, blending luscious fruits and mesmerizingly heady white flowers into a siren song. Warm, rounded and alluring, this Bellini-esque$ scent opens with a juicy, light-hearted sweetness that belies its intoxicating nature. As it warms on the skin, it becomes boldly flirtatious— this is the perfect scent for the belle of the ball. Péché Cardinal (translation: Cardinal Sin‡‡‡) opens with the apricot-hay sweetness of davana combined with the silken fur of ripe golden peaches$ and creamy coconut. The tart fruitiness of blackcurrant and prune$ keep the fragrance from becoming too sweet, allowing the cool, fresh-from-the-flowershop tuberose$ to shine from the heart of the composition. White lilies add an additional, slightly green aspect to the scent. The cedar,$ sandalwood and musc provide a quiet contrapunto§§§ to the fruits. An unabashedly romantic fragrance for those daring enough to wear it

Hans says: Bubble gum. Do you get bubble gum? Definitely something sweet. I don't know. Tell them my nose muscles are tired.¶¶¶

Later, after that syrupy opening, Hans identified fruit, something he should know, and got very excited when I told him it was peach because that was what he was reaching for.

FOOTNOTE (crossed): Even for me.

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Since the last time I was there, which may have been a year ago.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Too big to take a picture of, but had a jackalope, a box of Apple Jacks, Jack Kerouac... from table top to ceiling. Cooler than it sounds, trust me.

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Seriously, it's a big house. Plenty big to have a tool annex. And a drawer devoted to trowels.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Remember the days, Sarah, Susie? Good times, good times...

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Please note that I do not deride the red/turquoise/brown cowboy boots in and of themselves, but the mind that paired them with black leggings and a purple/blue sweater. And there's something... off about matching one's earrings to one's boots. Like matching one's lipstick to one's nail polish. Just... too.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): And it's a shame the relationship was over before I could get a picture of the end cap full of owl tchotchkes labeled "penguins."

§§FOOTNOTE (kama sutra position #43): I saw the fetish book and thought it might actually be a knitting book, naughty or just indicative of the mania of knitting. Then I saw the Kama Sutra and I realised yet another knitter had abandoned sex in favour of socks.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (marching band style!): If I have to hear that song all day in my head, you have to hear that song all day in your head.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): As always, when I say, "you," I mean "I."

##FOOTNOTE (the pounding of palm to forehead): About the time I finished typing the beer bottle analogy, I realised a shooting star would work just as well and probably be more elegant. Then I decided I don't want to get *too* elegant. I'd never be able to live up to it, long term.

†††FOOTNOTE (is it Easter yet?): I am getting so good at this review-speak.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): The Parfums MDCI site doesn't have any words on Péché Cardinal that I could find. Normally, I would quote them and use this footnote to tell you what a wondeful, warm, gentlemanly man Claude Marchal (the owner of MDCI) is, but since I couldn't hook that all up like I wanted, I'm just going to hijack the footnote for my own purposes. Why are the French so vilifiable as a group, but so lovely individually?

$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): You know that if I thought "raisin" was close enough to plum, I will argue that "prune" is that much closer.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (all roads lead to Paris): This is also apparently a pun of sorts, as Peche without accents, or with different accents or perhaps without the "e" on the end means "peach tree." And this is a peach fragrance, so... pun.

§§§FOOTNOTE (nothing spins me like a good word): I love "contrapunto." You don't get nearly enough contrapunto in daily life. I plan to work contrapunto in to my everyday conversation.

¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (your head, it goes *beatbeatbeat*when your nose muscles are tired): Hans played many hours of beach volleyball yesterday and maintains that *all* his muscles are tired.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Scientifically, Statistically Grimm

Slagsmålsklubben - Sponsored by destiny from Tomas Nilsson on Vimeo.

Fashioning Felt

{Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum via Selectism}

On display through September 7.

[SUMMARY: And the bleat goes on.]

I think it's also worth noting that the Cooper-Hewitt also has a children's wallpaper and book exhibit§ going on, even if it isn't so much in keeping with today's knitblog theme.


Kapsule Woody - Karl Lagerfeld

Marin says: This stays very close to the skin, worth noting both because sometimes you don't want to overwhelm a business meeting or a movie queue and because things smell different when you lay your nose right on them than they do if you can get a respectable distance.

The initial tangle of prickly-dry cedar and bitter citrus smelled more like lemon Pine-Sol than it probably should have and I think that's because my nostrils were sealed to my wrists to get more than a vague pleasantness.

Actually, I'd say that's the hallmark of this one for me: a couple of inches away, it's a slightly sweetened woody haze, but up close it's woody and maybe raisiny and seems to have a touch of vetiver. The overall effect is like a tawny port.

It's cosy and sophisticated, but with the lack of sillage it probably won't get any outside attention.#

Karl Lagerfeld†† says: Noble, rich and mysterious - all the refinement of cedarwood$ magnified with velvety plum$ and dense, dark moss.

Hans says: It smells like grapefruit. Like a Mad Dog. What are those things? Greyhound!‡‡

FOOTNOTE (crossed): That's supposed to be a funny sheep joke. Y'know... for the knitblog thing.

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Because beyond all the little things you know about me, I have a pop-up book problem too. So of COURSE I think this is worth noting.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Including several pop-up books. You can even see movies of the pop-up books.

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... there's this sort of salty smell that I find smells a little like Play-doh that I've been associating with vetiver. Suddenly I'm wondering if it's actually moss. I'm clearly a work in progress.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): This is not an idictment. It's actually a very good thing sometimes (see: business meeting) when you don't want to clobber those around you. It's also like having a warm little secret all your own. Maybe I'm projecting.

$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): I'm claiming "raisiny" as close enough to "velvety plum."

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I can't tell you how much I hate this website -- it's one of those webmaster playgrounds where they focused way too hard on style and forgot all about the end user. On the other hand, there's a slidy-squares puzzle of Karl Lagerfeld if you click in the right place.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I had already offered up "bulldog." Hans says we should be bartenders, we're so good at this.

Six Little Updates, All in a Row

Thursday, I got to that magical point:

This, my knitting friends, is the last vestiges of the mass dick warmer% phase of the Six-at-Once project.

[SUMMARY: Those who cannot do, warm.]

Over the weekend, I turned six heels§:

Soon, these will be viable, wearable socks.

[SUMMARY: Send in the clowns -- the circus is in full swing.]

This is SO still a knitblog.#

FOOTNOTE (crossed): Like the mystical time between dark and the first greying of dawn, this represents that goose-bumpy place where phallic becomes footie.

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): And guy friends. Guys may be nominally interested in the on-beyond-dick-warmer process.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): I know I seem abnormally fixated on the phrase "dick warmer," but it's still one of the funniest things anyone has ever said. Particularly about knitting.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Wedged in around spending seven hours trying to maintain a conversation with Brother's increasingly-deaf and hearing aid-resistant grandmother. It is a testament to the ultra-simple short-row heel that I could so easily finish six heels despite the schedule constraints.

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Except maybe the blue ones, which are about 3/4 of an inch shorter than the other two pairs. I hadn't thought to allow for what the different stitch patterns might do to the length. Lesson learned. But those socks may have to go to someone with smaller feet than mine. I'll keep you posted.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Just wait 'til you see the O's I'm going to F in the next couple of days and the fish I'm about to knit. And the joyful resurrection (just in time for Easter!) of the "Father's Day (2007)" Arrrgyle socks, since I just figured out how to knit intarsia in the round. Aw, yeah, boyeeee... It's gettin' knitty up in here.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Geek Chic 1977

There we were, Dad and I, sitting in his office chatting.

The conversation got to, "Do you remember that old Atari I got for you guys?"

"Oh, yeah. I talk about it often. It's pure geek gold."

He chuckled and said, "Really?"

"Sure. It was the first. I was in on the ground floor of video gaming. It didn't help me any when Pac Man came along,§ but I do have some bragging rights."

He puffed his pipe the way he does and said, "Pong."

"And that tank game with the giant pixels for tanks."

"And Space Invaders."

"Space Invaders was much later. That first Atari was Pong and variations of Pong -- like the four-paddle Pong -- and the tank game, which also had the planes. Which were also giant pixels, only they flew."

"Oh, geez, yeah. Remember how you could corner someone in a tank and just shoot them over and over and they'd spin around and couldn't do a thing about it?"

I giggled. "How on earth did you even hear about Atari?"

"I don't know. I remember going to Denver# and looking everywhere for that thing. You may remember our TV got very poor reception..."††

"Oh, yes I do."

"...and it was cold and snowy a lot of the time. I thought you guys should have some kind of entertainment..."

He trailed off and puffed the pipe again.

"You remember standing in line in the snow to see..."‡‡

"Star Wars!" we both said together, laughing.

"It was the last night it was playing," I said.

"The line went all the way around the building," he said.

"And you and I had to sit one place and Bill and Mom had to sit somewhere else because the theatre was packed and we couldn't get four seats together."

"That's right."

"And you bought me Milk Duds§§ and I took one out of the box about the time we established a galaxy far, far away and at the end of the movie I had a Milk Dud in my hand that was about a foot across and *that* thick. The Milk Dud box was full. I was so enthralled I squashed that one Milk Dud into a pancake."

"I'll never forget standing out there in that line in the snow."

We both stared at the ceiling for a moment, grinning.

FOOTNOTE (crossed): As we are wont to do of a Monday evening.

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): The 2600. It looked like this:

And had games like this:

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I was *terrible* at video games. We'd go to the bowling alley after school (how Americana) and everybody else would hit Pac Man, Tron, Centipede... I'd trot over to the pinball machines with a sneer, purporting to find the modern arcade distasteful. Of course, pinball was both easier and more private so I didn't have to broadcast my ineptitude to my friends. Come to think of it, I still do that. With pinball, I mean. I'm mostly OK with trumpeting my dorkitude to anybody who will listen.

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Google hadn't been invented yet.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): We left Houston the summer before to move back to Colorado so my dad could have his mid-life crisis with heavy equipment. He bought a partnership in a friend's floundering excavation business in Tabernash. Going to Denver was a regular event because it was the only place to buy clothes and reasonably-priced food. And Christmas presents. For the record, that was the Christmas I learned to knit.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): The Broncos went to the Super Bowl that year and we rented a motel room so we could watch the game. Without static. With colour.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Now that I know my dad better, this doesn't seem quite as unlikely, but for years I thought it was odd he wanted to take us to see Star Wars.

§§FOOTNOTE (Ah, the dance of memories): That has to be the brokest our family ever was. Milk Duds seem like an astonishing extravagance when I think about it now.

Could We Be More Wrong?

Hans thought, "It's tax season. There could be a tax-related billboard."

I thought, "The economy's bad. Maybe they don't have as many advertisers and will fill the space with a charity ad."

I actually thought for a moment, "What if it's advertising free tax prep for low-income or homeless persons?"

We didn't have to make any hard calls like that. We were so far wrong it's just a little sad.

Monday, March 23, 2009

New Billboard

Hans says tax prep.

I say charity.

Tune in tomorrow...

Can I Get Some Glitter?

Yes. Yes, I can.

Remember a hundred years ago when I was talking about the Glam Rock swap?

I completed my mystery project, received my package, went on to live my life, invented no-run pantyhose, revolutionised modern hair care, became a spokeswoman for the plight of bookstore customers worldwide and died at the age of 102 with a smile on my face.

[SUMMARY: Dreaming out loud.]

Seriously, it's been awhile. A couple of weeks at least. But, y'know... the camera, the uploading, the same old story.

Anyway, here's my package:

Let's get a close-up of those stitch markers:

I don't know how glam skulls are, but they're certainly *me* and I believe that's what counts.§

How cool is this?

It has a full Bowie bio between its shiny, shiny covers.

[SUMMARY: If it has David Bowie, it must be cool.]

Now for the tooting-my-own-horn portion of the program.#

Remember when I showed you the needle-felted Obama Brother made? And remember how I showed you a bag of fluff and said I was going to make something glam inspired by the needle-felted Obama?

[SUMMARY: If you don't remember, I'll remind you.]

Quick side trip to the back story††: You know how there are things that follow you? Like you have some sort of pre-destined meeting‡‡ with this... thing?

F'rinstance: a month or so ago, Juno asked how close I live to North Boulder because Dawn Spencer Hurwitz, a perfumer, has her shop there. I'd never heard of DSH, but within three days of Juno's inquiry, Chandler Burr reviewed her, I saw an ad for her, Nathan may have mentioned her... it was like she was haunting me.§§

Well, I had a similar series of events surrounding Klaus Nomi. A few years ago, I got my brother "The Nomi Song" for Christmas, part of a series of odd and/or interesting gifts we have exchanged. When I got it, I was only vaguely aware of Klaus Nomi, and then only as one of the first celebrities to die of AIDS.

Brother watched the film then passed it on to me. Turns out Nomi was an artist of some merit and a character worth filing in the brain, if for nothing else, for his glam¶¶ persona.

Then this glam swap came up and my recipient mentioned liking Klaus Nomi. Then Paris fashion week brought a Klaus Nomi reference. Then Nathan posted something that caused me to make a Klaus Nomi reference.## Then I decided to make a needle-felted Klaus Nomi, and when I explained this to the nice women at Fancy Tiger, one of them said, "That's so strange. I was just going through my iPod yesterday and re-discovered Klaus Nomi. I've been playing him a lot today."

[SUMMARY: KNMI: All Klaus Nomi, all the time.]

So, yeah. I needle-felted a Klaus Nomi.†††


This action appears to have exorcised Klaus Nomi's ghost. Who knew he was just hanging around waiting to be immortalised in wool so his soul could rest?

FOOTNOTE (crossed): Marin the Math Wizard would like to acknowledge that if she told you about the glam rock swap a hundred years ago, she was probably at *least* 141 when she died.

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): The scarf is all glammy teal and fuschia and silver... but it looks like a Colorado Avalanche scarf to me. I'm pretty sure hockey isn't glam, so I'm pretty sure that's not what my upstream swap partner meant.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Being, as I am, the cente of my own universe.

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Rule of Cool #9 (right below sunglasses and right above an Eames chair).

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I have not yet decided if I want to continue tooting my own horn because nobody gets the job done quite like I do, or if I'm sick and tired of tooting my own horn and want an experienced horn-tooter to toot my horn for me. Wait... what were we talking about?

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): What your people call "tangent," my people call "side story." I was just channelling the Land O' Lakes chick, in case that didn't come across.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I *really* wanted to reference the story where the wealthy Indian merchant hears that Death is coming to his house, so he gets on his horse and rides to [city in India] to cheat Death, only Death shows up at his house and when the servants tell him the merchant isn't there, Death says, "Oh, that's alright. I'll see him tomorrow. We have a meeting in [city in Inda], and the story's title is "Meeting in [city in India]," only I can't remember the name of the city and Google isn't much help in this case and if ANYBODY knows what the hell I'm talking about, please give me the title in the comments because it's driving me mad and I may not sleep until I get the answer.

§§FOOTNOTE (twisty tales): Unlike Klaus Nomi, who was always a little outside the box, Dawn Spencer Hurwitz was easy to appease -- a little VISA magic and some Mini bonding and her spirit rested.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (space age antennae?): I don't mean in the Vogue/W Magazine sense or in the 80s hair band sense. I mean in the David Bowie-Gary Giltter-Tommy Bolen sense.

##FOOTNOTE (that's me, pounding my head on the desk trying to dislodge clever thoughts): I honestly have no memory of what this footnote was going to be. Bet it was clever. And funny. ETA: GOT IT! I was going to say something about how commenting with slightly obscure references is why one files such bits away. The irony is not lost on me.

†††FOOTNOTE (hot cross Klaus): If I were a better photographer, you could see the prominent cheekbones and the sharp, slightly upturned nose.

Friday, March 20, 2009

Worst Day Ever

Like things aren't bad enough. I just broke up with Barnes & Noble.

I'll give that a moment to sink in.

I was loyal and faithful and gave everything I could give, and B&N abused me and made me feel small and stupid. I deserve better. And it certainly doesn't deserve me.

But I'm still very, very sad. I loved it so much and for so, so long. In the beginning, we seemed to have so much in common. First, the charming mailings, vast lists of sweet discounts printed on newsprint that kept me up all night, fantasising about the possibilities. I was caught up in the romance of the distant and untouchable.

Then B&N moved to Denver. I knew things might change, but I was so excited.

Here, close to my home and heart, it made me laugh§ and cry. I got wonderful emails almost every day. B&N taught me about worlds I never knew existed and offered me discounts unequaled anywhere else in the metro area.

It even made me feel special by offering me a membership. My very own card to keep in my wallet to remind me of it every day.#

Sure, there were a few people who told me it was a poor match. "Giant corporation," they said. "Pushing out independent booksellers," they said. But bigger isn't always badder, you know?

Time passed and I guess we started to take each other for granted. I assumed B&N would always be there for me, books in hand, DVDs on sale... and B&N began to think I would never leave, that even when it pushed me around and ignored me, I wouldn't go because we'd been together too long, I'd invested too much.

And I missed the first signs. Here we both were, downtown together. I'd just drop in on my lunch hour now and then. B&N always seemed to welcome me with open arms, but I guess there was a lot brewing under the surface.

I know, I know. I was stupid to believe the fairy tale. No white knight is going to bring me books when I want them. No prince is going to forgive me my bad days†† and appreciate me for who I am.‡‡ No hero is going to rescue me without great cost.

There are other fish in the sea. I just have to get back out there and find mine.

Meanwhile, I'm seriously considering calling the ex-.

What do you think Amazon is doing tonight?

FOOTNOTE (crossed): Don't get me started. You wouldn't like me when I'm started.

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Remember when? Good times, good times.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Dave Barry, Erma Bombeck, Bil Kliban...

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Dog books.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I should have known something was wrong when it turned out I didn't even need the card -- just tap my phone number into the computer.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I know I'm old and feeble. Nobody has to TREAT me like I'm old and feeble.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): A chick with a credit card and a book problem.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Free Tailing

This is how I prefer to think it all went down.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

A Bunch o' Orangemen, the Damn Lot o' Ye!

To paraphrase Gerald O'Hara, Scarlett's passionately nationalist father.

I went to a St. Patrick's Day party on Saturday.

I took oranges.§

I thought it was funny and more that a little clever and besides, my friends are well used to the weirdness, the "I think I'm funny"-ness, the stunning ablility to outclever myself and *still* nobody would indulge me and act like it was half as clever and funny as I thought it was.

I never even got to explain how we could all be Irish Republicans and PEEL the oranges and EAT the oranges in symbolic solidarity with our Irish Republican brethren.

FOOTNOTE (crossed): He was probably drunk at the time.

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Facebook finally pays off.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Well, clementines.

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Not like me and my ilk, for those of you making faces -- these are *Irish* Republicans.

Marin's Green Bra

For the record, I actually am wearing a green bra.

Friday, March 13, 2009

The Moment for Slovenia

Remember how I want to go to Slovenia?

{Picture by B. Bajželj via Slovenia Tourism site}

The Moment, the NYT bastion of fashion and lifestyle, is going to Slovenia. All my dreams of a far-off gem, under the radar of the idylls of tourism, are gone.

{Picture by J Skok via Slovenia Tourism site}

On the brighter side, it proves I have a keen eye for the haute du jour.

And I bet the fishing's still good.

Ask Me How Much I Love This

false friends "pretending love"
{Coarse toys by Mark Landwehr via Yatzer}

And while we're at it, I'll tell you how much I love Yatzer in general.†

Every day brings gorgeous‡ and intriguing stuff. Sometimes even knitwear. If you ever need a beauty break, pop them up on your monitor.§

FOOTNOTE (crossed): You're welcome. Always happy to foist my opinions on an unsuspecting public.

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I want to live there. Nathan, you'll melt.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I get no payola or nothin' from Yatzer. They don't even know I exist. Just thought I'd clear that up.


All caps necessary to instill the proper sense of the excitement and relief I felt when my arthritic brain released the identity of the much-favoured blogger who posted the "be your own rockstar" meme.

Yvette. It was Yvette.

I feel better. I'm going back to sleep.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Label Lust Has Left the Building

{The Corner via Selectism}

Now half-price. A screaming deal at £45.00.†

Knitters everywhere are laughing.‡

FOOTNOTE (crossed): $57.64 at today's exchange rate. Originally $115.28.

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Material cost is not so much a factor. It's *wool*.


Head Trip - Twilight Sucks by *shinga on deviantART

CLICK -- oh PLEASE click for big. You have to click twice, but it's so VERY worth it.%

Nathan sensed my mild anti-Twilight sentiment and pointed me to this. Nathan is my new best friend.


%FOOTNOTE (percented): You can tell by the overuse of capital letters just how worth it it really is.

FOOTNOTE (crossed): stupid ^*$#& sparkly $%^&@# vampires! @$*&#!

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Remember the running new best friend joke? Good times, good times.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Bet you didn't even know I could do that. When you're as advanced in footnote art as I am, you can make floating footnotes. You can also accidentally hit "publish" on the draft post you keep around that has your footnote cheat sheet on it. It's like a quadruple salchow, but in footnotes. So any of you that read this on a feed get to see that little piece of footnote history. *ahem*

Good grief, I'm a dork.

Fire! Fire! Mrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaannnnnngghhhh! heheheh†

{Die Hardererer (Bootleg Edition) by Nicholas Chatfield-Taylor
from Nicholas Chatfield-Taylor on Vimeo via Cinematical}

All the fire from all four Die Hard movies. Seventeen minutes of it.

FOOTNOTE (crossed): Channeling Beavis brings up all kinds of spelling issues.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Using Cranes for Good

Headline: Prada Transformer Is Four Buildings In One, Thanks to Massive Cranes

{via Gizmodo}

Prada. Prada and *cranes*. It's a good day.

She's a Brick Mouth

via Geekologie}

Anthropological vampire remains. Not stupid. Not sparkly.

Bela Legosi's Dead

And yet, stupid sparkly vampires live on.

So there (undead undead undead).

The end.


A leather Rubik's Cube.

{Zontik via Selectism}

I'm on the fence: would it be easier to take leather squares off to "solve" the Cube or would it make one loath to do so?

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

White House, Black Bunny

There we were, Dad and I, sitting in his office chatting.

The conversation got to, "Peach asked me what I do when I'm in here by myself."

A thousand dirty quips bubbled up in my filthy little mind. I finally settled on, "Tell her you pick your nose, surf for porn, trim your ear hair..."

He chuckled, then said, "Do you know she actually asked me that?"

"The nose-picking thing?"§

"No. She asked if I searched for porn on the Internet. I told her, 'of course not,' and she said, 'Really? I thought all men did that,' but I said, 'I don't.'"

I chuckled, then said, "Sometimes you get porn even when you're not searching for it. I went to white house dot com once. Porn site."

Horrified look. "Really!?"

"Yep. The actual White House is white house dot gov, as it's a governmental site. White house dot com is porn. Also?"


"Black bunny dot com is a porn site. I am a consumer of Black Bunny Fibres and I typed in black bunny dot com one day and it's a porn site. I was at work. I had to clean out my history so they wouldn't think I was surfing for porn at lunch."#

Then he told me how boring porn is, I agreed and added strip clubs to that list.

He told me about going to a topless Mexican restaurant in Oklahoma City for a business lunch when he first started in the oil business.

I told him about the time I accidentally tipped a stripper a twenty instead of a one.

We both stared at the ceiling a moment.

"Strange topic of conversation," Dad said.

I said,†† "'What'd you do last night, Marin?' 'Oh, I had soup and salad with Dad, then we went for ice cream and talked about porn.'"

Just a little window on my life.‡‡


Seraphim - Ormonde Jayne (parfum? extrait?)

Marin says: The bit from Perfume Shrine (below) went on to make it about the luxury industry -- among other things -- and didn't touch so much on the fragrance itself. Which actually makes sense. I don't know if there's a better one-word description for Seraphim than "elusive."

The bergamot is a bright, lemony thing, but not overpowering and, unlike many citrus notes, doesn't flash and disappear. The rose adds a sort of aldehyde to the mix, but a restrained aldehyde that dances with the whole rather than clobbering it into sharp, powdery submission.

And the ylang ylang.

I always thought I hated ylang ylang because I've purchased a couple of bath products with ylang ylang% and it has an oily, dirty smell -- it reminds me of the Rabbit Path§§ we used to walk to school in the late summer when some sort of grass was drying and acrid. This I recognise for it's sort of petroleum tang, but that's barely there. As in any good fragrance composition, the notes support each other and sing together like a symphony. The ylang ylang complements the bergamot and makes the rose behave.

Then a dry-sweet woody thing creeps in... then musk -- not soapy and overwhelming -- and vanilla, very light, a touch of round and warm... and slightly dusty sweet coumarin... but I make it seem too linear. It is the most incredible tangle and flow of notes, all sweet and warm and bright like the perfume's namesake.

There are moments it's lemony kerosene¶¶ and others where it's rosey hay. Still others bring sweet, sun-warmed wood. As long as this review is already, I've barely begun to capture the ins and outs of Seraphim. Some perfumes I love for their education and for the fact that they unfold. Some I love just because they smell good to me. This I love for both.

Unfortunately, this was an extremely limited collectible edition## created for 20ltd by Linda Pilkington, the general genius behind Ormonde Jayne.

Fortunately, I have friends in high places, one high enough to have gained a bottle of this gorgeous stuff and bestow a wee vial on me.

Perfume Shrine says: ...surely such an elusive fragrance should have something important to say instead of putting question-marks all over the place.†††

Head notes‡‡‡: (Fresh flowery notes) Bergamot, Rosewood, Ylang Ylang
Heart notes:(Powdery) Rose, Violets, Iris
Soul notes: (Sensual) Musk, Amber, Madagascan Vanilla, Coumarin

Hans says: It smells a lot like something I've already smelled. But I'm having a bad nose day.@ Lemon. I get lemon scent. Lemon tone. A lemon finish. And that thing that's in a lot of perfumes... formaldehyde?§§§ Oh, yeah... aldehyde. Lemon finish. I get lemon lime vodka slurpee.¶¶¶

FOOTNOTE (crossed): His office is the only room used on the third floor of his fiancée's enormous house.

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Said fiancée. Her actual name is Patricia, same as Mom's, so we don't call her that. You understand.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Because I think I'm funny.

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): He really doesn't. Dad is genuinely puzzled by the whole fad.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): We both agreed if such a thing ever happened, it would be easy to blame it on my boss because he's good friends with the Senior VP here at my client's office and said VP would completely believe me if I told him I was only clicking through a link my boss sent me.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): I did different voices for me and Hypothetical Co-Worker.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): You're welcome.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Because they're always labeled as "sensual" or "passionate" or some other version of "you're going to get laid tonight." I may be gullible, but even in the tub I'm doing my part in bringing sexy back.

§§FOOTNOTE (the waft): Doesn't that sound all Little House on the Prairie? The path is still there, but the field is mostly office buildings now.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (the notes): Not that I'm suggesting angels smell like kerosene. Any good saint-in-training knows angels smell like chocolate chip cookies.

##FOOTNOTE (the pounding of my heart): This is my way of saying, "You can't have none. Nyah-nyah-nyah."

†††FOOTNOTE (oh, hey -- that's Lent appropriate): Rabbit hole! I got it! It's like the olfactory equivalent of Alice following the rabbit down the hole! I almost didn't catch that elusive allusion.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (and that's train tracks): I was looking right at the notes as I wrote this, so I can't take credit for knowing what I'm talking about.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): Hans has a cold. Also, the most remarkable hat hair I've ever seen.

§§§FOOTNOTE (this is Hans's brain on NyQuil): I'm giving him credit for getting that close.

¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (march of the Seraphim): He's kind of joking. I was telling him about my one drinking adventure in high school. Not that I only drank once in high school, but this was actually IN high school. In the building. A friend got me a lime Slurpee with a slug of vodka which I drank during lunch. I didn't finish it -- it was a big Slurpee -- so I took it to Latin with me. I was incredibly fluent in Latin that day.

Monday, March 9, 2009

Lent: Day 13

I'm getting better at remembering that a shake is not an acceptable substitute for soda when one is off both sweets and sodas. However, I keep melding last year's Lent with this year's Lent and am determined that I should forego red meat on top of alcohol, soda and sweets.

An ongoing inner debate rages as to the categorisation of food bars that have chocolate in them or are labeled as "oatmeal raisin cookie" flavoured. Until I have worked that out, I'm staying away from those too.

I already decided Pop-Tarts are verboten.

Yes, I think about it that much.

I am that dork.

Rock Me, Amadeus

I've seen this on Facebook, but I finally caved when perusing Thursday's Art of Darkness.

And then someone else I like did it on Tuesday.

[SUMMARY: I am sheep, hear me bleat.]

To come up with your own band’s CD cover, do the following:

Go here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random The first article that pops up is the name of your band.§

Now go here: http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3. The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.

Then go here: http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/. The third picture on the page is your album cover.#

Finally, use the graphics program of your choice†† to put them all together.

For extra credit,‡‡ write a Rolling Stone review about the album.

[SUMMARY: Can I take my extra credit in saint points?]

Some songwriters labour at their craft, others seem to stumble upon it. Such stumbling is the case with the dusky, bat-fleeting mountain-country rambles on Unfit to Govern, the second album from Colorado's Outside the Gate. Wistful tangoes like "Devil's Thumb" and rocky waltzes like "Fourteener" evoke full-blown images of frontier cemeteries and high tundra loners, living with coyotes and cougars somewhere above the timberline. Pinballing around these twisted folk-goth laments, frontwoman Marin Gunnison% sings like she's hurt and a little angry, but has the cattle prod to even the score. Her whiskey alto whispers on the wind, picking up momentum as it's pursued by the rising moans behind her. Some will undoubtedly see their desolate visions as mere device, but the songs -- which are kith and kin to 16 Horsepower and the Gun Club, with a blooming sense of humour -- maintain Outside the Gate's misty mountain drama is for real.
[Based on this actual Rolling Stone review]

FOOTNOTE (crossed): Actually, two Thursdays ago. I'm a little swamped.

FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): See the waffle post for brain power level last week.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Mine is "Outside the Gate," oddly enough an actual album title for somebody else. Oh, the scandals and lawsuits we shall have!

FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): My whole quote: "The danger is not that a particular class is unfit to govern. Every class is unfit to govern." -- Lord Acton, Letter to Mary Gladstone, 1881

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Originally, my picture was this one, which would've given a very deep religious state/political state twist to the whole endeavour, only the pretty Buddhas wouldn't show up on my computer (I'm guessing some sort of security thing), so I rolled the dice again and got this:

Which now puts my album in a kind of "don't fence me in" folk journey through the American West. The Rolling Stone review would've been entirely different with the Buddhas.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Which turned out to be Sumo Paint, which is a free online app that has most of the features of Adobe Photoshop Elements, but I can get to here at the office.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Extra credit is almost always more interesting than the actual assignment.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): If you're gonna go American West, may as well take the nom de guerre for it. Gunnison, for those of you who may be wondering, is where I was born. And where I went to college. And where I lost my virginity. Rumour had it I would have to go back there to spawn and die.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Baby, What Time Is It?

Waffles. Inna bag. I brought my waffles in a bag. Bagful of waffles, three bags full. Baa baa crack sheep, have you any waffles? Yeah, I got your waffles right here. In this bag.

Did anybody else hear that?

Hey... my hands are... lizards.


Marin says: Something on my wrist smells good.

The cow says: Moo.

Hans says: Friday?

Monday, March 2, 2009


Oh, *that's* what this blog is all about.

In case you had any doubts.

FOOTNOTE (crossed): Nathan.

Blogging is Good for You

I'm not making this up.

FOOTNOTE (crossed): Extrapolating, yes, but not making it up.