the mini itch

First, go read this very long post. It's very long. But very moving. If you don't feel like reading the very long-ness of it, that's ok.

In 2003, I graduated college. During my 4 years at UCDavis, I worked full time in order to completely support myself. When I graduated, I felt I deserved a little present. And by little, I of course mean big. I bought myself a brand spankin new car.

I didn't just buy a new car. I did a lot of research and ordered a super cool mini cooper and my little Scootey was built just for me. I had to wait 3 months for it to be shipped across the pond from the factory in Merry Old England, but during that time I learned every single spec and stat and number and uninteresting fact about my new car. I was totally a car chick. (This detail about me landed me my new job in the custom car shop, btw.)

When Scootey finally arrived, I went a little nuts. The personalized plates had already arrived, so there was no time (save the 20 minute drive from the dealer to my house) when the car was not Scootey. I loved that car. I loved driving it. I loved dusting it and washing it. I loved putting stickers on it. I loved showing it off and hearing people say "of course that's your car." And as the aforementioned post implies, I was heartbroken when I had to sell it when I moved to NYC.

While I lived there, I was fine not having my mini, or any car. Of course, whenever I saw one I uttered a small sigh of longing, but otherwise I was fine. Then I moved to Michigan. I thought that my years without driving had hardened me. I was like "I hate driving. I'll save my money because I won't even need to buy a car." But because this is not NYC and there is no wonderful mass transit system, I end up driving a lot. And now I have a job, so starting June 2, I'll be driving almost 10 miles a day, 5 days a week. Sure, Jay's got 2 cars, so that means I'll always have one. But they are old cars, and maybe not the most reliable or safest. They certainly aren't very fun to drive. And they're not mine.

So I'm again getting the itch. I want my own car, that I can take care of and be responsible for and do whatever I want with. And once I owned the coolest car in the world, so there's no way I can go back to some car I found on craigslist. Not to mention that there are a lot of mini coopers around here, so I get a little more wistful. I demand another mini cooper.

Because I enjoy torturing myself, I often visit the mini usa website. I now know where the closest dealer is (this is Motor City - no car dealership is ever that far away!). Thinking I was being a clever young girl, I checked the inventory of used minis. However, I found out that mini coopers are awesome so they hold up their resale value. What does this mean? It means that a used mini cooper is almost the same price as a brand new, custom made one.

So now I have a job. I've recently discovered that my credit score is not as bad as I thought it would be (in fact, it's much higher than it was last month, even though I've semi-stopped paying my bills). So don't be surprised when, in several months, you read that I have placed my new mini order, and will once again be a proud car owner.




ps - yes, I realize it's kind of sacrilege to drive a foreign car while living in Detroit, but I don't care. And yes, I now work in the auto industry, but I'm not one of the people with a bumper sticker that says "I work for Ford and I drive a Ford." In fact, my car has nothing to with my workplace, because I can't afford to use my work's services. (There's a reason our customer list is kept confidential - chances are, you've heard of the actors, musicians, and pro athletes that have gotten cars made by us, and would want their autographs.)

sometimes blogs are just about feelings and aren't funny

New relationships are hard. I've been in my current one for only a few months, and we've lived together for most of it. My previous relationship lasted over 10 years, and started when I was just 15. I think that is why it didn't work: we just didn't know how to be in an adult relationship and eventually it took its toll.

The new bf and I are still learning things about each other. I am so happy with him that I stress and I worry that I'm going to do something to screw it up. I worry that I am showing him too much attention because I know what it's like to be shown too little. I worry that I'm smothering him by always being at his side, but when I decline to go somewhere with him, I worry that he'll feel neglected. I get jealous when he has fun without me, but I don't want to tag along just to be a nuisance or a bitch and not let anyone have any fun ever. I try to give him everything he's ever wanted, and not make any of the mistakes that his past girls have. But I'm never sure if I'm succeeding.

I've told him all of this, and have always been reassured and comforted. I know he loves me very much and would never do any of the things I'm scared of, but Emotional Girl Brain still freaks out. I know the cure to all this. I need to get out and spend time away from him. Something like a job or friends of my own would help. But as it is, we spend almost every minute together. It's a good sign that we're not sick of each other, but I think it exasperates these aforementioned feelings when we're apart.

Relationships take work. Sometimes I feel I'm not working hard enough because I don't know how. Sometimes I feel like I'm not working as hard as he is because of how wonderfully he treats me. So I don't have an ending to this blog. I just needed to write all this down to get it off my chest. I'm sure tomorrow I'll look back and wish I hadn't bared my soul to my internet friends, but for today, you know where I stand.

how I spent my Tuesday, or what was in that trunk

I may have mentioned the other day that our trunk was exceptinally full when Deputy Dog stuck his big fat head in to sniff out our narcotics and thwart our drug running business. What was in there? Beads. Millions and millions of beads. Why? Because a crazy old lady sold them to me.

We went to FL to buy a car. Why FL and not MI where we live and cars are cheap? Because FL is where old people go to die, and then sell their cars for $300 to their neighbor's son. They also packrat all of their old craft supplies and decide to sell those as well, to their neighbor's son's girlfriend that makes jewelry.

So we went over to meet this old lady whose husband had died and thus caused her to sell the car since she wouldn't use it. Let's call her "Eleanor," which is her real name. She showed us her weird little trees that she used to make. They looked like this:

Not the kind of thing I would make, but I admit it took some skill. And supplies. And since Eleanor is the kind of old lady that I am on the fast track to becoming, she has every single pakage of craft supplies that she ever bought, even though 85% of them were unopened. Incidentally, this is why I'm not allowed to go into bead stores unless I have a specific project in mind. The kicker though, was that some of the supplies were in these large metal cases with lots of tiny drawers. I do need somewhere to store all my beads, because I'm an organizational freak and beads are tiny and plentiful.

Some haggling went on until we agreed on a (very cheap!) price for 4 metal cases and all the contents, as well as about 58 tupperware bowls filled with beads and taking up valuable cupboard space. As we were bagging up my new goods, Eleanor became wistful. "I like these ones, maybe I'll keep them. Oh these are nice, I'll make something with these." And so on until Jay's mom verbally slapped some sense into Eleanor, telling her that her arthritic hands weren't making anything else, and the beads were just gonna be thrown away when she moves into a nursing home. A little harsh, but true. The thing that really turned Eleanor around was when Jay gave her the cash. *snap* "Here, let me help you get these in bags!"

So we stowed the 4 cases and a giant duffle bag full of bead tupperwares safely in the car's trunk, to be out of mind for the remainder of the trip. Since our return, they have been sitting on the floor in the entryway, blocking the front door. Mmmm useful. I knew I had to do something with them, but they were so unorganized and so plentiful that I didn't even want to think about them. But then I remembered that a good way to get rid of supplies that I wouldn't normally use is to make cheap bulk jewelry to sell at bars for free drinks. Hmmmm if only there were some big drinking holiday coming up...

So I spent my Saturday making these:

and yes, I was able to trade them for free drinks (and cheese fries!) on St. Patty's Day. But that didn't solve the problem of the millions of remaining plastic beads in my living room. Conveniently, Jay needed a little nappy-poo today (what did I say about free drinks?) so I felt this weird motivation. I moved the coffee table and proceeded to empty out all the drawers of the fancy pants cases. Yeah, can you say daunting? I thought it was a daunting task before I started. Then it turned into this:

I'm not even done yet. But that's how I spent my day. (As always, click on the photos to make them bigger.)

ps - do you need some plastic jewelry? Any color you like, I make you something nice.

des changes her hair.... again

Because my hair had lost its luster, I decided to go back to the old des standard, super short style. Lucky for me there is a salon 2 blocks away from my house, so I can brave the bitter cold for 10 minutes and walk my ass down there. It's another one of those things I shouldn't be spending money on until I have an income, but sometimes a girl just needs a trip to a high end salon.

I brought in a picture, and told my new homegirl Lisa that I don't need it exactly like that, but a shaggy, choppy pixie cut does a des body good. Apparently I was sitting in the hot seat for an hour and a half, during which time the hairdresser did things to my hair that I will not be doing on my own time, like using a blowdryer and a round brush to make me look like a lion. But I do loves me some head scratchin. I like having my hair played with and tousled and all the fun stuff that comes with getting your hair done. There was only one time in my life when regardless of hairstyle I did not like the experience, and that was because the chick had muy-inch long fake nails hat actually curled around a bit and hurt like the dickens. Lucky for me, today's Lisa did not have those horrid claws.

I tried not to cringe as I paid my $60 bill (plus a $20 product and a $10 tip - yeah, that's ninety dollars total) but my hair does look really good, and there was the whole "salon experience" thing. Of course, since I was walking, the style was immediately ruined when I slapped my big fuzzy hood over my newly short hair. And then because I'm me, the first thing I did when getting home was to muck it up with a bunch of my own styling product so that I'm not disappointed tomorrow when my hair doesn't look the way it does after the stylist gets done with it.

There are no pictures yet because that whole "hair dye - fading" effect is even worse now that my hair is very short. The lion effect is worsened by the gray-blue color. So tonight or sometime I will purchase more shiny black dye and make my hair once again the beautiful thing that the world has come to expect from me. Then and only then because I'm totally vain will I post pictures.

fear of bridges

Apparently I started a cathartic revolution with my recent post about bridges.

Arlene gave us a story.

The NY Times did a story.

Countless readers chimed in.

I *am* breaking news. And I'm not alone.

add one more to the list of des crazy

Anyone who knows me in real life has probably noticed that I don't like walking on things that I could potentially fall through. This includes things like sidewalk grates, basement trap doors, and even bridges (especially those that I can see the water through the bottom of). I still walk on them because sometimes you can't avoid it, but I always feel like I'm going to drop my sunglasses or something and lose them forever.

It's not a phobia because it doesn't disrupt my life, but it is an irrational fear. A psuedo-irrational fear. Let me explain my rationale for it. Pardon me while I get all new-agey for a minute.

I think in a past life I must have dropped my child down something like this. I used to think I was the one who fell and died, but that doesn't explain why I'm so scared of dropping things. Apparently I was carrying something very valuable and the ground opened up and I dropped it into the abyss. I guess if I was really in to it, I could go get hypnotized or something to find out the details, but what's the point? It will only depress me.

I'll just have to live with my neurosis. The weird thing is, I really do like being on bridges, and I love being up high, so I know I don't have a fear of falling. But I'm always clutching my accessories a little tighter when I'm there.

Anyone care to psychoanalyze me?

so excited

Sweeney Todd.
One of my new favorite movies, and I haven't even seen it yet. But I know it will be the best ever because Tim Burton is my favorite director. He is directing this. Johnny Depp is my favorite actor. He is starring. Sweeney Todd is my favorite play. I saw it on Broadway, and that day found out that the movie was in the works.

Yes.

And because of that whole no-tv thing, I just finally saw the trailer.
This trailer:


So yeah.

I'm still pushing for Wristcutters, but for a bit I'll be temporarily distracted. Just until December 21 when I can go get my Burton / Depp fix (that I can't get at home).

supersticious dogma

I know it's bad luck if a black cat crosses your path, but what if a black is about to cross your path and then thinks better of it, instead letting you cross his path?

That's like good luck then, right?

I ask because this happened to me tonight.

the des interview

You know I can't resist talking about myself, but the question always looms, "what do I write?"
Well, the opportunity to be "interviewed" came up, and the opportunist in me snatched up the chance.

1. You are a California girl living now in New York. Where do you feel most 'at home'? What cultural differences do you love and hate about both places?(Do you loathe the term 'California girl'? I've heard a few women say they did)

That’s 3 questions and 2 statements. Anyhoo, I still consider CA my home. That’s where the fam lives, though I will never again live in either of the cities that my parents or Craig’s parents live in. I love NYC, but I could never live here with kids. I want my kids to have a house with a yard and a “normal” childhood experience, which is what I had. So I will totally live here and continue loving it until I start a family. Then, back to CA, where the grandparents get to help out!

As for loving and loathing, that’s too big a topic that I don’t feel like going into fully. I love not having to drive, but it’s also nice to be able to escape once in a while. I love that I can get anything I want at any time of day just around my ‘hood here, but with internet shopping and whatever, it’s kinda the same in CA.

(And “California Girl” is acceptable, but just don’t ever call it “Cali.”)

2. I admire your artistic jewelry making skills. What do you do for inspiration and do you have any other artistic endeavors?

I usually steal other people’s ideas. Then I make them better and avoid copyright infringement. But often I’ll see something in a store or on someone, and be like “pssht, I can make that.” And then I do. Or, I’ll just invent something in my head and see if I can make it work in real life. Sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn’t.

It’s really hard to do anything if I’m not in the mood, or feeling the inspiration. I used to draw with colored pencils, pastels, paint, and other stuff like that. I also have been known to sew things. And duh, I write too. Pretty much anything artistic or creative, I’ll do or have done (and have boxes of supplies if I ever need them again). Whether or not it’s good… that’s not up to me to decide.

3. Have you ever had the need to tell someone to go f- themselves(or the like) and did you enjoy it as much I would?(since I've always wanted to do so but usually chicken out) If yes, explain. If no, who would be the first person you would say that to if given the chance with no consequences to worry about?

I always say what I’m feeling. If you catch me in the right mood, you may get told to fuck off. Or, I might just make a face and walk away. I could also turn to whomever I’m with and explain to them what a butt you are, so that you can hear what I’m saying but know that I wouldn’t stoop to talk to you because you suck. I could also do any combination of the 3. Either way, people I meet always know how I feel about them. Maybe this is why strangers rarely talk to me!

And yes, it generally feels pretty darn good. That's why I keep doing it.

4. What was the last song you heard on your ipod and have you ever had a song you HATED but kept intruding in your brain? What was it.

The last song I heard was “Under Pressure” by Queen & David Bowie. I like that song. However, often is the time when I get songs in my head that I hate. I’m highly suggestible in that way. Someone just has to mention something that reminds me of a song (good or bad) and I get that song in my head. It’s more than a little annoying as a super power.

5. Out of all the books you love, if you could make one into a movie and have total say in the entire production, what book would you choose and who would you pick to play the characters?

That’s too hard. I generally don’t like movies made out of books. My fave bumper sticker said “Don’t judge a book by its movie.” However, there are some movies that are good adaptations. One of my faves is “Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas” and not only because it’s so insane and I heart Johnny Depp. (But that is definitely part of it!) But Terry Gilliam did a pretty good job of translating Hunter S. Thompson’s words into visuals, and though some of the book is not included, that’s to be expected.

My LEAST fave book-to-movie is “I, Robot” with Will Smith. I never even saw that movie, but it’s “based” on one of my super fave books and I could tell from the ads that it had nothing to do with the book, which is actually a collection of themed short stories. It did look like another Isaac Asimov book, “The Robots of Dawn,” but that’s a whole ‘nuther rant. I’m sure the movie is good in itself, but the fact that it’s called “I, Robot” makes me angry. There are other ones that do that too.

And now I realize that I didn’t answer your question, but you know what? Too bad. I answered something else, that was apparently on my chest and needed answering.

ps - I have another meme coming up just on books. Stay tuned for that one.

Phew. Thanks to Ms. Little Pea for these tremendous questions, and if anyone wants me to ask them some even more equally intriguing questions, let me know.

can you stomach this?

I'm not a food finisher. Very rarely will you see an empty plate in front of me, unless I have not yet loaded food onto it. And it's not an issue of my eyes being bigger than my stomach; it's an issue of (I'm convinced) me having multiple stomachs - yes, like a cow - and they are all very small.

Why the multiple stomachs? For each kind of food, silly. When I first started studying this phenomenon, I thought I had maybe a "dinner" stomach and a "fruit, ice cream, and other desserts stomach." You'd be amazed at how often I don't finish my dinner because I'm full. But then I still want dessert.

Now I'm starting to think that there is a stomach for salad, a stomach for hot food, a stomach for soup, a stomach for bread, and so on. Throw in factors like the weather and I'm amazed I manage to eat anything at all. (I do eat significantly less when it's hot and / or humid outside. Stupid New York.) My stomach for mac & cheese is quite large, and I've never once gotten sick of refilling it. Then my salt stomach is very small, so that when it is full I can't even bear to smell something like soy sauce. And there is every size in between.

Even if I like my meal, I probably won't finish it. Doesn't matter if I made it myself, paid for it in a pricey restaurant, or one of my multiple adopted granmas has made it special for me. I just can't do it. It's not that I don't want to - I'm just a little insane and so things like that are impossible. (And forget about it if I don't like the food. Or if it's slimy.)

I'm no food scientist. But I am also clearly not insane. So if we are eating a meal together and you notice I don't finish my food, don't be offended.



ps - another reason my boyfriend is great is that he long ago accepted the post of "crust finisher." (I was going to say crust eater, but that sounds dirty!) Breaded products like pizza and sandwiches do tend to disappear from my plate when I've decided I'm done. I don't even have to tell him anymore!



This wasn't a very good post. Sorry.

creepy, creepy store

I can remember it clearly.

I'm being chased down a dark alley into a store. I slam the door behind me and feel only temporary relief, as the old lady sitting in a dentist's chair, knitting with a dog in her lap, warns me against trying to pet dogs in cases. I turn slowly. The dusty, musty, slightly sour smell gets stronger. I pick up an old photograph lying on a table. It is from the late 1800s, a photographic case study of psoriasis. I feel I am being watched. When I turn my head, the cracked porcelain doll to my right turns his head as well. His hinged joints point to his bretheren; some are headless. Some are stuffed into jars. But all begin to move and chase me down a long corridor, riddled with cobwebs. At the end, another photograph, this one poster-sized. It is my grandmother in her coffin. She sits up, points at me, and laughs an evil laugh. I try to flee but there are animals blocking my every move. All frozen in time and mid-action, there are birds, fish, dogs, cats, ferrets, and many things I cannot place. Sometimes I see only the foot of an animal, transformed into some macabre object d'art or an ashtray. I keep running, only to find skeletons and organ-men, with all their parts labeled in neat Victorian handwriting. Soon the skeletons regrow into people, complete in Victorian costume. Shoes, hats, corsets, dresses, where did these things come from? And then I see it. An old family photo album. Inside are the people wearing these clothes. They were doctors, artists, devoted to their families and pets. I am somehow near the door again. The old lady is still there, slowly rocking. "Have a nice day"she creaks as I walk back into daylight.

The preceding account is true. While researching for Suzanne's book about odd things to do in NYC, des and Suzanne stumbled into Obscura Antiques & Oddities. Oddities, you say? Yes, very much so.

This is the store of my nightmares.

the impossible necklace

I bought a new outfit on Saturday. Naturally I wanted to wear it on Monday. I had a black shirt, white skirt with black trim, white shoes with black trim, a black headband with white stripes, but no jewelry that matched so completely. Sure, I could throw in a splash of color, but I was going for the whole bi-chrome effect. So I did what any self respecting jewelry artist would do: I made myself a new necklace.

Once I had all my supplies together, the designing process didn't take long at all (duh - black, gray, white, repeat). SO I whipped myself up a pretty strand of faux-pearls. As I'm about to snap a picture for posterity, I notice that in one place, the pattern doesn't go b-g-w, it goes b-g-w-w-g-b which is only a minor misstep, but I'm a perfectionist dammit.

So I remake the necklace. Then as I'm crimping the final bead that holds the whole thing together, the wire breaks for no reason and black agates go a-flying. I yell a few choice words and begin the reconstruction process. Craig tells me to stop it, give up, do it tomorrow. But I need to wear the necklace tomorrow!

So I make the necklace for the third time. All goes as planned, I take the photos, and decide I can finally go to bed. This is why when my alarm went off at 6:45 am Monday morning, I wondered aloud what day it was, and had to really rack my brain as to why I would be getting up so early.

Of course, cold coffee saved the day. And I looked absolutely stunning in my little ensemb.

spoiled

I should really post this on my cat's myspace page, but let's not be crazy.

Craig & I are sitting in the living room. The cat's favorite box has long been in the bedroom. We hear the rustling of paper (he's a cat - of course there is paper in his favorite box!) and a small "mew."
More rustling and another small "mew."

Craig: "I think the cat crapped in his box."
me: "No he didn't. We wouldn't crap in his favorite box." but I got up to check anyway.

Mecru had made himself a pillow out of the paper and was using it to rest his head as he looked longingly into the living room. I can read his mind, so I knew that the cat was conflicted because he wanted to be in his box, but he also wanted to be hanging out with us.

So I picked up the box with the giant cat inside and brought it to the corner of the living room.

No more mewing, no more rustling, just content stares from a puddle of a cat.


I wish my life was so tough that my biggest source of uncomfort was wanting my favorite place moved and then having someone actually do it.

it's tough being a girl

Today instead of going to the Violent Femmes concert we had tickets for (Craig is still sick and I am still injured) we went a-shopping. For me. Clothes for what-what to wear on an interview. I had a picture in my head of what I wanted - a brown skirt and a white shirt. Should be easy enough, right? Wrong.

We started out at Bloomie's, only because we judged Macy's on a Saturday would be too much to handle. It is the world's largest store, you know. So up we went to 59th & Lex, into a store that (apparently) only old rich white women shop in. While I am a white woman, I am neither old nor rich. The only thing I liked, and it didn't fit my picture at all, was a $650 skirt-suit from Hugo Boss. It was very nice, and I'm sure it would have looked absolutely stunning on me, but seriously I can't justify spending over a week's pay on one outfit. Obviously, I didn't buy it. But we did get to laugh at all the old white men parked on benches with newspapers while their old white wives spent all their money on designer clothes.

So next to H&M. Not as classy as Bloomie's, but not as expensive either. Also not as dressy. That store trip did not last long. On to Banana Republic. I normally like their stuff and found lots of things I would buy just to wear, but we were there for interview clothes. And I wanted my brown skirt, which they didn't have. sad face des. Next door was Express. I used to have good luck with them in CA (along with The Limited, which apparently does not exist in NYC). But not so this time. No interview-y brown skirts.

Daffy's. WTF is this? It's worth a shot. They made Craig check his bag of shoes as if we would steal something and hide it under our Mooshoes stuff. One quick lap around the store and we decided that not only would we not buy anything, but we certainly wouldn't steal anything either. Ew.

Kenneth Cole, best known for making The Best Coat Ever, which I am currently not wearing because it is above 20 degrees outside. Again, some clothes that would have been nice for an interview if I did not have this ideal stuck in my head. Of course, they had no brown skirt. In fact, I don't think they had any skirts at all. So it went on like this: store after store, no brown skirts.

Finally we saw a store called Barami, which I had never heard of nor seen. Desperate, we went inside. Hey there's a nice brown skirt! Pleated, knee-length, very professional. Only one left, and my size? *grab* White shirts are easy to find. I picked out 2 and brought them down to the fitting room. The salesgirl and Craig agreed that the simpler one was better then the ruffly one, even though it kind of made me look and feel like a pirate. I was all for it, but Craig thought I looked less like a pirate than a very old Hispanic woman. Since I am not a very old Hispanic woman, it was not a flattering look. Of course the skirt fit perfectly because it was fate, so I took my purchases up to the counter. And, the simple shirt was on sale.

We decided I needed a neck kerchief to complete the look. Back to Bloomie's. Sure, I could pay $50 for one that I only kinda liked, or I could leave and go to Ricky's* where they have them for $4. I found a hair accessory that had a cool browny-greeny-cream colored pattern, and took it home. However, it was decided that as a neck kerchief, it made me look like a stewardess. So I turned it into a belt by cutting the elastic out. Hooray for scissors! Now I just have to find shoes, because the only brown shoes I have do not go with the skirt. And we all know how much I hate buying shoes.

All in all, a successful shopping day: brown skirt acquired.


ps - voting is still open for best hobby blog. Go vote for jewelry by des!



* Ricky's is still my favorite store in NYC, btw. It's like a high-end beauty supply store that has things like fishnets and wigs and things from the Archie Mcphee catalog. No Punky Color though, but they can be forgiven.

"I didn't do it for you"

I dyed my hair this weekend. (Shock) It looks really super cool - orange on top with red tips, and I left some blond in there to let them fade together. Much better than the boring old blond I had.

But my coworkers don't seem to think so. One guy thought it was hilarious to call me "blondie" and when I told him I was sick of it, he said "great, now I can call you 'big red!'" Neat. When New Boss saw it, she stopped what she was doing and said "oh - you changed your hair." I said, half-jokingly, "I told you I do it all the time. You should be used to it by now." And really she should - she's been here like 3 months? How many colors have I had in that time? But she frowned at me and went back to her seat. Good. I don't have to talk to her then.

My friend's favorite quote of mine occurred when we were in college. Some random person told me they liked my hair, and I said in true punk rock fashion, "I didn't do it for you." I have no actual memory of this, but my friend describes it in vivid detail. Plus it sounds like something I would say if someone didn't catch me in the right mood. But now I think of that whenever, for example, New Boss frowns at my beautiful fire hair.

Lucky for me, it's not up to New Boss what color my hair is for the next 44 regular / 30 working days. Craig advised that I keep my hair blond just until I get a new job, so that my potential interviewers don't get scared off. I made the following points:

1. It shows off my creativity, which can be very useful in the jobs I'm looking at.
2. I got hired at the Unnamed Drug Store with rainbow hair - it was like it is now, but pink, red, orange, and yellow. That was fun. But I got hired and the store manager simply said "just don't do that again." And I didn't.
3. I don't want to work at a place that won't let me color my hair. Besides the fact that I love doing it, they would probably have other policies I wouldn't like.

Craig came back with just one point:

People judge on your appearance, even if they don't mean to. An interview is a first impression. Wow them with your resume and personality, then let them see your hair.

Very good advice, especially since he lived through tons of fruitless interviews with long hair. When he cut his hair, he got 3 job offers that week. Yeah.

So I still dyed, but I went with orange because frankly, it's Manic Panic and it sucks. It won't be this color in a week, even with proper care. If for some reason I get an interview before my trip (and birthday!) on Thursday, I can wash my hair a few times. (BTW- this is why I always use Punky Color!)

Here are 2 pictures I took with my phone. I look kind of evil, so I'll take a better one when I get home.

gift obsessions

With Flag Day fast approaching (6 days!), the subject of gifts has come up repeatedly. I already know not to expect anything from Craig. Something about a $600 plane ticket...
My dad is very reliable at sending me a check* for $25. I will get a little trinket from my mom in about 2 years, along with any other bday or xmas presents that have accumulated over time. My sister is very good at sending a card, sometimes with a Target gifcert. Craig's family (parents, grandparents, aunts, sister) usually send me a card and a little something too.

So I've come to expect these things like I'm a little kid. Sure, nobody ever buys me a new bike, but nobody ever did anyway. When I get cash, I make a point to go actually buy something fun with it, instead of just depositing it to pay bills. I do prefer cash though, just because there is a universal belief that if you like something, you must be obsessed with it and so anything everyone buys you must have to do with it.

For example: At one point I liked dolphins. I still like them, but as much as I like anything else. However, my mom is still buying me dolphin trinkets, 15 years later. Seriously, I've gotten over it. Same thing happened when I got my faerie tattoo. Suddenly I was hit with a barrage of faerie-themed stuff.

A friend of mine recently surprised me with some beads for my bday. She was going to find cats or penguins, but she liked the multi-colored dots better because they screamed des. I'm glad that she didn't get me the animal beads, because a) there's not much I can do with them, and b) it would just reinforce to the world that I am obsessed with these things.** I do like the dots, as they are much more fun.

So even though I'm a grownup (am I?) I still expect gifts. I think it's terribly selfish of me, but I do reciprocate. After all, motto #5 says that birthdays are truly special days and nobody should have to pay for anything on their bday. So I always make sure to take a friend out to dinner at the very least. Usually I get them a little something too. If I can't find anything that absolutely screams to be had (I do pride myself on my gift-giving skillz) I get them something silly. This is always a good option for anyone, and it explains why I have a magnetic Dress-up Elvis on my refrigerator. If your friend doesn't appreciate silly gifts, then they don't deserve to be your friend anyway.




*When he worked at Sears, he was always sending me Sears gifcerts. Until I told him to stop because I had absolutely no use for them.

** The people at work are sure I'm a "cat person" because, yes, I own one cat. I would own a dog too if I had room and time for it. But that doesn't register with them. So they're always forwarding me crap that has some computer-altered cat picture saying "I thought you would like this!" and they're always wrong.

40 INTERESTING THINGS

I was tagged by Brillig to list 10 interesting things about myself. But I was tagged 4 times. So I have to think of 40 interesting things. I don't know how interesting some of these are, but I had to think of a lot of stuff.
And here they are, in no order other than how I thought of them:

1. I've broken so many bones I can't even count them anymore: Right arm 3 times, ankle, toe, hand, etc, plus a concussion and several sprains, a surgery, and on and on.

2. I once had strep throat & bronchitis at the same time. Worst xmas ever.

3. I wanted to be a cheerleader in 5th grade, but I didn't make the team. I was an "alternate."

4. I've never been to a funeral. The closest I've been was a memorial mass, which was basically just regular church with a picture of my grandpa.

5. I read a book as I sat in the audience during my college graduation ceremony. I have a literature degree, what more do you want?

6. I've never won a game of Monopoly. Partly because I don't have the patience and partly because I'm not that good.

7. My brother and sister and I are all 8 years apart. I'm in the middle, so my sister and brother are 16 years apart.

8. I've never met an animal I didn't get along with. Even jerk animals like me. It's a super power.

9. I was vice president of my 5th grade class, just because at the last second I wanted to be involved, and it was a popularity contest.

10. During my elementary and junior high years, I won multiple spelling bees and geography bees. Uber nerd.

11. I haven't been to Disneyland since I was 7.

12. I was President of the Drama Club in high school. I was an actual Drama Queen. I was in all sorts of plays, and even did lights on 2 of them.

13. If I was a drag queen, I would totally be a Cher.

14. I've been dying my hair non-stop since I was 13. The first thing I ever did was put a black stripe in the front of my blond hair in 8th grade.

15. My mom has 2 tattoos, both of which she got after the age of 30. Now you know where I get it from.

16. I'm a purple belt in Kempo Karate, though I haven't practiced since I moved to NY.

17. When I was 14, my friend and I got caught stealing candy bars from a grocery store. I gave them a fake name and address, and was banned from the store from life. That's fine because it closed down a few months later.

18. I don't do well with crowds and loud places. This is why I hate going to bars unless they are extremely low-key.

19. I'm an awesome driver. I've never gotten any tickets or been in an accident (while I was driving), though I've certainly had the chance.

20. My very first "real" concert was Radiohead and Soul Asylum playing at Fresno State when I was 14.

21. I pet a real tiger at the Mendoza Zoo in Argentina. It's my fave photo, but it's not in NY with me.

22. At the Wildlife Safari in Oregon I had a ring-tailed lemur sit on my head and wrap his tail around my face. I don't know if there is a picture of that.

23. I met Alex Trebec and he grabbed my head and told me he loved my hair. He's a total weirdo.

24. I've spent so long in the revenge business, I don't know what to do now. And yes, I have considered pirating.

25. I like putting things in order. Books, DVDs, files at work, anything. And the order generally would make sense to others if they would just pay attention (alphabetical, chronological, numerical, etc.)

26. My eyes change color. People have seen them actually change and they freaked out a little.

27. I have 4 tattoos: a faerie on my leg, roses 'round my wrist, a bat at the base of my neck, and a penguin on my shoulder. When I have lots of money to spare, I will get a 5th, a jasmine plant on my other shoulder.

28. I had to have my gallbladder removed because it broke. It didn't burst - it just shut down completely because as a vegan I didn't eat enough fat and GB problems run in my family.

29. I rarely get sick. In the almost 2 years I've worked in my current job, I've missed only one day, and that was from a migraine that lasted 2 days. (And that's not to say I have perfect attendance - I do go on vacation a lot.) But it's a good selling point to prospective employers.

30. I'm almost done thinking of interesting things.

31. I've raised $1085 for the AIDS Walk this year. (There's still time to donate, just click on the link!)

32. I'm allergic to very specific things: a pesticide used on carrots in CA, hot peppers but only if they touch my lips, and a ponytail palm plant if the leaves touch me.

33. I delight in knowing useless facts. That's why I'm so good at trivia games.

34. One time some friends and I were talking to a bum outside of a grocery store. His name was Popeye and he was a war vet and he was extremely racist, as evidenced by his yelling at passersby. This led to me just getting up and walking away, which caused the bum to yell at me that I had "nigger blood." I kept walking, instead of punching him (or letting someone else punch him).

35. I bought myself my first new car when I was 22. It was a 2003 mini cooper named Scootey, custom made for me. I loved that car.

36. I rock at learning languages. I speak English (duh) and Spanish, and taught myself Russian in high school (which I have since lost) and began learning Mandarin Chinese in college. I currently have an opportunity to learn Hindi, which I'm going to jump at.

37. I get bored easily - I need ways to fill my time. This is why during college I worked a full time job, I write blogs while I'm at work, and I bead or read while at home. I tend to go a little crazy unless I have something to do.

38. I have Audrey Hepburn's autograph that I bought for like $90.

39. I don't like driving, simply because I don't trust other drivers. Blame my commutes on highway 80 in CA for that.

40. I eat macaroni & cheese every single day for lunch at work, and I don't get sick of it.


There. Done. I didn't read through them again, so forgive any repetitions or nonsenses. If there are any questions, I'm happy to expand.

outrage

I've just been made aware that if you google search for "super des" than lots of things come up. That doesn't bother me, as most of them are related to me somehow. (There a couple in French, but that's like searching for "of" in English. Those don't bother me either.)

What does bother me is that the number one spot is not me. It's some other blogger using my moniker and giving tax advice. Tax advice? Ew. That's not entertaining. That sucks. And yet this person is bringing me down with them.

I like to think that people are searching for me specifically because they've heard such great things. Maybe people are searching for this "other" super des (oh sorry - they capitalize Super Des. That is wrong wrong wrong!) and coming across me and deciding they like me better. Maybe I've gained a few readers this way (go on, admit it, it's ok). BUT I would hate to think that someone is looking for me, they naturally look at the #1 spot, and it's not me so they give up. Nooooooooo!

Your job as readers is to link to me whenever possible so that I can usurp the usurper and claim my rightful place at #1.
Examples:

"des left an interesting comment the other day...."
"I had a good weekend, or as des would say, a fun time."
"I was thinking about des because I miss her."

So you see, it's very easy to link to me. Please do so. Or I might have to change my name.



ps - I am not participating in the Blog Exchange, so no fear. Tomorrow, it's all me, baby!

those things with 8 legs that live in the sea

This post will be about octopodes. One time I asked a linguist what the proper plural for "octopus" is (octopi, octopusses?) and he said that if we use the traditional Latin, it would be octopodes. I'm all about tradition, so I've adopted this word. Plus, it's a really good word.

Octopodes kind of freak me out. I've never met one, but I'm not sure that I want to. I don't even remember seeing any at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Maybe I was steered away from them because Craig knows that they are creepy and I am easily distracted by penguins. Maybe I did see them and I freaked out so badly that I blew the circuits in my brain that have to do with remembering that experience.

I think the main reason octopodes are not my friends is because there is this video that not many people have seen, but those that have, remember it. At a marine biology lab they had all sorts of sea creatures, probably used for tests that I don't want to know about. But their jars of "treats" kept getting mysteriously emptied. The scientists set up night cameras to see where the treats were going. What did they see? The octopus in the tank would get out of the tank, slink across the floor to the shelf, open the jar, eat a treat, re-screw the jar lid, slink back to his tank, and get back inside. Everything about that freaks me out:

a) he could live outside the water (for a few minutes)
b) he was mobile
c) he knew where the food was
d) he opened the jar carefully instead of smashing it
e) he reclosed the jar when he was done

I don't know how to describe my feelings for octopodes; it's not fear, as I can think about them without crying (not like cockroaches *shudder*). It's not dislike, because I am interested and oddly fascinated by them. I don't want one coming after me. I don't want them killed. I dunno.





ps - this post was inspired by Suzanne because she has a category on her blog just for octopodes and sometimes finds ways to mention them just so she can put her posts in that category.

the des mini-interview

There's a trend going around the blogosphere lately that consists of bloggers questioning other bloggers. I love talking about myself, so of course I'm in! Amy Jo asked me these questions, which I answered to the best of my ability.


1. What does your hair look like sans dye? Pictures are a bonus!
I haven't had all-natural hair since 7th grade. In 8th grade, I put a big black stripe in front, and so it began. It's a boring dirty blond, which doesn't even look like it should be my natural color. My skin is so white that I really look best with red hair. I even used to have some freckles. But I always say that one of my super powers is to look decent with any color hair, including the current mix of purple, black, and blue/green.

As for pictures, I have none. I'm sure my parents have some, but they are very far away and I don't have a scanner anyway. But a little while ago, my friend from elementary school (who I am still friends with because he too lives in NY now) sent me a picture from 4th grade, which you can see here. Though I'm sure that my hair was a little lighter than that sometimes.

As a side note, my favorite picture of myself is from when I was about a year old. I have a toothbrush in my (toothless) mouth, but my hair is bright red and spiral ringlets. My mom calls it "strawberry blond" but it's totally red. My hair still curls if I let it get long enough, but not in spirals anymore.


2. Since you've done both coasts, tell us which is your favorite and why.
I like them both. If I could, I think I would put NYC into CA somewhere. (Some people would call that San Francisco but bigger.) I really love living in this city - not having to drive (a major plus) lots of people, lots of things to do, restaurants, etc. However, I like in CA how you can just drive for a couple of hours in any direction and be anywhere else - the beach, the mountains, the desert, forests, etc. To be fair, I haven't really explored outside of NYC. I've never been to CT, Boston, Philadelphia, Washington DC (though I'm going there next month), or anywhere that is still a coupla hours away. I've never even been to Jersey except to go to the Newark airport one time, which I'm ok with.

As for the people, west coasters are definitely more laid back than New Yorkers. I know it's a stereotype, but it's true. Whenever I go back to CA, I am always walking so much faster than everyone else. Conversely, when someone visits me, I (and everyone else on the sidewalk) get annoyed because they are walking too slow.

When I moved out to NY, Craig & I took a month to drive across the country and see all the sights. From that experience, I can tell you that NY and CA are more alike than the rest of the country. This will make me sound like a jerk, but I could never live anywhere between the 2. There was a noticeable feel that was off somehow that was back "on" in NYC and CA. Maybe because I wasn't used to those other places. I dunno.

3. This Craig character, you've been together 10 years now. What was it that attracted you to him way back then? What about him do you find most attractive now?

In a coupla weeks, I'm actually planning on posting about how we met, so I won't go into that too much here. We met when we were just babies - I was 15 and he was 16. He made me laugh right off the bat and still does. If I'm bored watching tv or using the computer, I'll see him dancing in the kitchen out of the corner of my eye. And if I don't notice, he'll make me look at him. That always makes me laugh.

Also, he's one of the smartest people I know. That was evident from the start, and it's important to me because I already have a low tolerance of stupid people, so of course my "life partner" has to be of some intelligence. My vanity won't let me say that he's smarter than me, but he definitely knows more about certain things than I do (for example, politics, the news, and of course, law-talking stuff). He can put up a good Trivial Pursuit fight.

I don't know if it's because we've been together so long or we just fit this way, but we act the same. We make the same stupid jokes and have the same reactions to things. If we're walking down the street and somebody's wearing orange suspenders or something, we don't have to point it out to each other; we will just look at each other in that "omg" sort of way.

I can go on and on, but this is about me, dammit!

4. How and when did you become a vegetarian? Is there any food that might make you go back, even if only for a moment?

There were a number of factors involved in the decision to give up meat. I didn't like the taste, meat isn't as healthy, and the animals used for food are treated deplorably.

I became a veggo in stages. I remember when I was like 10 or so I was eating a piece of chicken (the leg) and it struck me as how disgusting it was that I was eating a muscle. It was all stringy and I could pinpoint the spot on my own leg where that came from. After that I couldn't eat chicken legs. Some meat I never liked in the first place, like pork. Ew. I could never eat a pork chop. I never really liked steak either, and my stepdad would cook it extra raw. That grossed me out for so many reasons, I stopped eating it all together. The last thing I gave up was chicken. I still liked it ok, but I figured I would be a hypocrite if I still ate that and refused to eat other things based on my vegetarianism. (And I know there are "vegetarians" that eat chicken and fish, but seriously, chicken and fish aren't vegetables. Just say you don't eat reed meat!) When I found out how the poor little caged chickens had their beaks melted off and had no room to even strech their wings, that clinched it.

When I moved away to college, I became a full-on vegan. Now that I was shopping for myself, I could buy things like soy milk and not have to worry that things like oyster sauce were being put on my meals (thanks, mom!). I kept that up for a few years, but then when I went to Argentina for a semester, I gave up the veganism. I kept up the no-meat policy, but I would seriously have died of starvation if I couldn't eat cheese. Incidentally, I gained a few pounds while I was gone. When I came back, I half-heartedly continued being a vegan, but sometimes I really wanted some damn mac & cheese. Let me tell you, there is no good vegan substitute for cheese. So now I'm "mostly vegan, " a term that I coined. I eat vegan food when I can, but if I have no choice, I'll throw in some dairy (or eggs, baked into a dessert!). It makes it a lot easier to go out with friends and eat in restaurants.

As for meat, I don't think I'll ever go back. Not liking the taste makes that pretty easy. I always liked crab when I was younger, but I don't like having to throw a little crab into a pot of boiling water and then scrape the meat out the shell with a metal tool. That grosses me out. So no worries. Also, they keep making better and better veggie substitutes for things, so I don't have to eat meat. Sometimes when I'm real hungry and I can smell food, be it eat or not, my mouth starts a-drooling, but that's just instinct. Lucky for me, humans are omnivores, so I can live off of a veggie diet.


5. Since you're such a book worm, what is your favorite movie?

I like lots of movies.Here's a partial list of the movies I own, because I have the time, and because it will give you a better understanding:
Big Fish
The Birds
Boondock Saints (mmm pretty Irish boys)
Kids in the Hall: Brain Candy
Clue
Crouching Tiger
Donnie Darko
Edward Scissorhands
Encino Man
Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas (one of the best book to movie adaptions ever)
Forrest Gump
Harvey
Kindergarten Cop (I've always wanted the gov to sign this, but I never got a chance)
Life of Brian
Mars Attacks
Monty Python & the Holy Grail
My Fair Lady
Mystery Men
Office Space
The Princess Bride
The Rocky Horror Picture Show
Roman Holiday
Traffic
Two Brothers (it's about tigers!)
Time Bandits
The Usual Suspects
Who Framed Roger Rabbit? (I'm reading the book that was based on right now)
The Wizard of Oz
Zoolander

As you can see, I generally go for stupid comedies. I don't normally go in for the big blockbusters or mainstream movies, but I can't say that exclusively. I generally like comedies (because why should I choose to make myself sad?) though there are some that I'll watch and bawl my eyes out every time. For some reason "Forrest Gump" is my bachelorette movie - I watch that if Craig's out of town. I'm also very self-conscious because if it's a sad movie, I will cry. I'm all girly like that. But sometimes the movies are so good I don't mind the crying.

The Lord of the Rings movies are awesome, but who has the time to watch them (we have the extended versions)? These are another great book-to-movie transition. I have mixed feelings about books becoming movies. Sometimes, they're just awful. I refused to see "I, Robot" because it's based on my favorite book and I could tell from the previews that it has nothing to do with the series of short stories that makes up the book. It looks like it's actually based on another Asimov book, but I digress....

****************

So that's it. I can ramble on about myself for days, but I should probably stop now. If anyone wants me to answer more questions, I'm happy to. Or, if you want your turn at rambling, tell me to make up questions for you. I'll do it. I'm crazy.

Thanks again to Amy Jo!