(Another) fresh start

By eliza | Published: January 29, 2010

There simply was too much cell phone coverage and not enough snow in my life so I moved to Vermont almost two weeks ago.

No joke, really. Small town New England –maple flavored everything, ski reports on the news, people leaving their cars unlocked and running in the grocery store parking lot. There’s been snow or freezing drizzle every day since I got here and I suspect that will be the case until sometime in August maybe, when a moose sees her shadow or something? And yet somehow there’s still enough green to make it postcard perfect and clearly better than Pennsylvania. Also? The grocery store sells beer and wine. No contest.

Plus, six of my top seven favorite relatives live here. AND! And! and! I’m right down the street from a library and not stuck in an office during its hours of operation. In fact I’m not stuck in an office AT ALL. Well, I have a fake office that is also known as my bedroom. (It’s got a window –a thrilling dream come true.)  I knew my job was making me miserable but I didn’t realize the extent to which it kept me immobilized by depression. Four and a half years of wasted time.

Well that’s old business. I’ve got some new things in the works; getting serious about freelance writing, opening an online store, and a fun project with Jen of deliberatepixel is about to begin. More details on that later!

Here’s that January mix I promised last post: (Maybe NSFW, unless you work in a cuss-friendly environment like me.)

A tad more upbeat, eh?

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Ancient history

By eliza | Published: January 11, 2010

Ten years ago I sold my 87 Pontiac Sunbird for scrap, packed an army duffel, got on a plane, and landed in Los Angeles. The near-year I spent there encompassed some of the most fun I’ve had along with the absolute worst point in my life so far. I do not regret a minute of it (and I cannot imagine what it’s like to grow up without having run as far as you could go without a passport, a space shuttle or a submarine at least once).

Ten years? Really? It seems so much longer, and like that kid wasn’t even me. Here’s a quick mix of 8 tracks that would’ve been on that kid’s iPod if such a thing were a thing back then. (Launched in October 2001 –I looked it up so you don’t have to.)

I’m packing up to move again this weekend, this time New England. Once I get there I’ll make a follow-up post with a current state-of-affairs for comparison –should be good for a laugh, at least.

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Soft men & broad brushes

By eliza | Published: December 14, 2009

manlymanComrade Sisters! Tom Purcell is on to us and our girlification of the menfolk. It is true.

This man, this hunka hunka macho manly man-ness, has sounded an alarm that’s totally new and the guys are probably going to give him some manner of phallus-shaped trophy for his exceptional work in preserving all that is great and good and worthwhile in the world: hard men.

You know hard men? The opposite of soft men who are the men we’ve created with our insistence on controlling our reproductive systems, which alters our strange womenbrains and confuses us into not wanting to go to Boner Town with the square-jawed types who don’t groom, love breaking their expensive electronic gadgets they shove carelessly into their pockets, and who apparently don’t read so have no need to transport books anywhere, ever? Right. Those guys.

Sisters, get ready for the Rebirth of Proper Manhood inspired by what will surely someday be known as Purcellian heroism! All of us. Yes, even us. Look, it is Tom Purcell’s world and it doesn’t matter that not everyone is heterosexual. Friends, I don’t make the rules. That’s why we have hard men like Tom Purcell, hardest and real-est of real hard men to tell it like it is.

Except, according to an earlier columns by Purcell, women have already won the war. So I’m a little confused, but that may just be my unfortunate genetic start as a gatherer of berries and not knowledge. Did you know we make more than the menfolk? Which made them sad and opt to give up… and go to the salon to make themselves pretty for us? No? Or that real men don’t like to clean, (but I guess all us women love it?) Well, good thing Tom Purcell is around to explain things with evolutionary psychology wankery, right? I could just keep linking and linking to his insightful take on previously-undiscussed topics, but I just don’t have time what with my amazing high salaried career and all the time I’m obviously spending oogling pop stars.

So, who is this wily and dangerous Tom Purcell, you ask? He is a nationally syndicated humor columnist. Yes, humor, that thing we women lack. But don’t worry, you can be sure he is a funny guy because his blurb says so. He is also single. But you knew that.

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hair-tie graveyard

By eliza | Published: December 4, 2009

Somewhere in the world there is a place where all of the worn out elastic hair-ties retire. If you stumbled upon it you would find the rusted remains of the ancient metal closure bands and thread bare husks of the scrunchies of times past.

AGoodie Stay-Put Thick Elasticsnd somewhere deep in this hair band graveyard is an even more secret spot where all of my elastic bands ran away to get on like teenagers do –filled with hundreds and thousands and kajillions of these guys from Goodie’s ironically named “Stay-Put Collection” that never ever ever stay where I put them. They’re not in my bag. Or in my desk drawer. Or around my wrist, or the handle of my hair brush. They just leave. I’m certain of it.

Ill-advised pony-tail holders improvised from common office items:

  • binder clips
  • mangled paper-clips
  • chain fashioned out of paper-clips
  • pull-chains taken from desk lamps and/or ceiling fans
  • Mardi Gras beads from last year’s company anniversary party
  • twist-ties pulled from the tangle of cables under your desk

Office supply order:

  • rubber bands
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New Romantics

By eliza | Published: December 2, 2009

If I’d been a teenager in 81 instead of a toddler this would be my embarrassing youthful subculture attachment:1

Which reminds me of this sketch from Big Train that kills me:

Notes:
  1. Not really all that different from my embarrassing youthful subculture attachment though. EXCEPT that I didn’t hang out with living harlequin dolls –something too creeptown for even the gothiest of us. [↩]
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mid-November thumbs up list

By eliza | Published: November 23, 2009

I redid Surplus Cats and would like my suspicion of its adequate level of cuteness confirmed. So if you’re reading this via the feed, be a dear and click over and tell me if anything is broken or wonky?
tinybanner

Actual Content!

Here’s my semi-monthly list of interesting things! Who is excited? (I am.)

  • A look at Isabella Blow by Plumcake at Manolo for the Big Girl. Totally fierce. Totally awesome hats.
  • Here is a Shakesville post by Melissa McEwan that sums up why you might’ve found yourself unfriended by me on Facebook or sitting by yourself all fish-mouth after I’ve abruptly gotten up and left our conversation.
  • A few of my FB buds hopelessly threw up their virtual hands and wailed “why are all the girls so into Twilight?” the other day, and I almost responded, but thought better of it. It would not have been as articulate as Sady Doyle’s Tiger Beatdown post, The Edward Cullen Underpants Conundrum, in which she deftly points out how no one really questions guys who get excited about female celebrities but when ladies treat a male celeb in the exact same way, it’s unnerving! What is the world coming to? Let us wring our hands! If you are going to read anything about the Twilight franchise, make it that post.
  • In Defense of “Douchebag” over a Feministe. Truth.
  • Flu Vaccines are safe, even for pregnant women. “There has not been one study that has shown any maternal or fetal complications from the inactivated flu vaccine.” Science-Based Parenting.

Two posts in one day, instead of in one month. I AM ON A ROLL, GUYS.

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Cheese Wonderland

By eliza | Published: November 23, 2009

Cheese photo glommed from Market Dist. site.

We went to the 24 hour grocery store Saturday night and it was CLOSED — like completely empty and Oh noes! But there was a sign directing us to the new location. We’d forgotten they’d been working on a big fancy Market District store, so I guess my preferred G’iggle was no longer needed. I was skeptical! What had they done? Was this going to be a nightmare? Change! Differentness! Good things usually, but not when it comes to chores that are already tedious and typically annoying, and I was not in the mood for a scavenger hunt. AND And and … lots of breathless statements of indignation!

It was surprisingly crowded for it being near-midnight on a Saturday, and as D commented, everyone looked so irritated that other people were there. Like we’d all invented Late Night Weekend Grocery Shopping and owned that shit and how dare these assholes ruin our shopping experience with their breathing and their pushing of carts! Indeed.

The store is so ridiculously huge that this grumpitude is total BS, and we all ought to be ashamed of ourselves. We were in a magical wonderland of CHEESE AND BEER. The carts have cup holders. It is fucking magical. I can’t even tell you!

So right, I started to get bummed because in true My Relationship With Pittsburgh style, just as I’m leaving, cool new things start popping up and going on. Like I make a few new friends or find a fun new local band or suddenly there is a place where one can easily procure the integral parts of one’s favorite noodle dish and –it’s a month before I’m outta the joint. And THEN I remembered that I’m going back HOME where delicious things have always been available and you can even get a god damned salad without having to specify that you do NOT want french fries in it.1 What am I bummed about? I’ve been paddling upstream on Styx with Cerebus snapping from the shore for what seems like forever and finally there is a light ahead. It’s a neon sign that reads “Reading Terminal Market.” Are you kidding me? Snap out of it, lady.

For my friends who are at peace with pretend salads and doughy white bread cut extra thick for maximum tastelessness and are here for the long haul2, here is the most important, relevant link: The Market District Beer List. Also their handy Cheese Pairing list.

Does that not make you hungry for fancy crap and feel sort of posh and something like a grown-up, or what?

Notes:
  1. I will never ever understand the Pittsburgh french fry salad thing. It’s supposed to be a salad. You are missing the whole concept of salad when you dump a fryer basket of greasy fries over it. Don’t act like I’m the one who doesn’t know what a salad is. I’ve got the rest of the world with me on this one, and you are a wee tiny baby of a city; a fussy toddler who won’t eat his vegetables unless swamped in ranch dressing. [↩]
  2. I think you should move too. There, I said it. I just feel very strongly that you’re being deprived of essentials like general deliciousness. [↩]
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Do Wah Diddy Diddy

By eliza | Published: November 19, 2009

So there’s this random girl rocking out on the street, out loud. And golly she’s a looker. And then suddenly she’s beside you, and holding your hand! And the two of you go back to your place, and make out! You are in love with this singing stranger! You share your secrets! You are always together. Very happy. You’re gonna get married! Yeah! Now you’re singing out loud too! Diddy do!

Right. Yeah. I have no idea why, either.

Do Wah Diddy Diddy Performed by English beat band Manfred Mann.
Lyrics by Jeff Barry, Ellie Greenwich.

There she was just a-walkin’ down the street, singin’ “Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do”
Snappin’ her fingers and shufflin’ her feet, singin’ “Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do”
She looked good (looked good), she looked fine (looked fine)
She looked good, she looked fine and I nearly lost my mind

Before I knew it she was walkin’ next to me, singin’ “Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do”
Holdin’ my hand just as natural as can be, singin’ “Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do”
We walked on (walked on) to my door (my door)
We walked on to my door, then we kissed a little more

Whoa-oh, I knew we was falling in love
Yes I did, and so I told her all the things I’d been dreamin’ of

Now we’re together nearly every single day, singin’ “Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do”
A-we’re so happy and that’s how we’re gonna stay, singin’ “Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do”
Well I’m hers (I’m hers), she’s mine (she’s mine)
I’m hers, she’s mine, wedding bells are gonna chime

Whoa-oh, I knew we was falling in love
Yes I did, and so I told her all the things I’d been dreamin’ of

Now we’re together nearly every single day, singin’ “Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do”
A-we’re so happy and that’s how we’re gonna stay, singin’ “Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do”
Well I’m hers (I’m hers), she’s mine (she’s mine)
I’m hers, she’s mine, wedding bells are gonna chime

Whoa-oh-oh-oh, oh yeah
Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do, we’ll sing it
Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do, oh yeah, oh, oh yeah
Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do

I understand this was 1964 but this is madness.

(I’ve been listening to the oldies station a lot lately. Expect this to turn into a theme.)

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Behold! A trend is born!

By eliza | Published: November 12, 2009

I'm going to make TENS of DOLLARS!

This exciting new pattern has been scientifically formulated with an exotic blend of trendy prints to sell like cakes hotter than “That’s hot” ever was. (And then it’ll wane for like a minute, and then it’ll be retro.)

So I went to the mall last night to find pants and a button down shirt for my EXCITING AND THRILLING job interview on MONDAY. You would not believe how difficult it was to find solid gray dress pants and a solid colored shirt without embellishment — or maybe you would if you’ve gone shopping in the last several years — but my point is that everything is so ridiculously over the top ugly these days and I hate everything. Except! I do not hate that I have a job interview.

I am not entirely thrilled with the results of my expedition and I am concerned I have become the wizened office goth lady who only owns things in black and gray and the darker shades in the red and purple spectrum. Do I remedy this by branching out into brown or navy? Or do I just stab myself in the eye and bleed to death on the carpet of Lane Bryant?

Tonight I am going to get a long overdue haircut for this interview and afterward I will drink a beer while watching a friend’s band. Will I do so with long or not-long hair? Will there be bangs-bangs or fancy side-swept bangs? I cannot say! I will not know until I consult with the expert who has not ever steered me wrong so why am I so weirdly anxious about this? I have nothing to say with regards to that either!

I can say this, though: Job interview! I wasn’t going to get too excited but I can’t help it. I’ve gotten lots of calls about jobs in places I don’t really want to live and this is the first one for a place where I want to relocate. And it’s for something I would feel really good about doing; actually helping people. So wish me luck in the event my textile design genius doesn’t take off. But how could it not? I used science! Like — observation and percentages and stuff. C’mon.

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my cartoon friends

By eliza | Published: November 9, 2009

When I was little I got into trouble at daycare for lying because I told a fellow classmate that Snoopy had stopped by my apartment to bring me a balloon. The teacher told my mom when she picked me up and mom said, “But Snoopy did bring her a balloon. Elizabeth isn’t making up stories.”

On the way home she had The Talk with me and that is how I learned that all of my cartoon friends who’d visited me were really Aunt Pat in costume on her way to various singing telegram/flower/balloon delivery jobs.

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