my misc
Saturday, mar. 15, 2008 | 0 comments
I like: street hockey, vegas, my gynecologist, Dickens, little dickens, television, the concept of social lubrication, and talking on the phone.
I hate: patchouli.
Word has it: I once spoke Swedish fluently (after living for a year in Sweden at the tender age of five, of which I remember nothing but being bit on the ass by a swan).
And: I have blue eyes, dark roots, and pale, picked-clean skin. My jaw sometimes gets stuck in the "on" position. I fall down a lot (even though my ankles are sturdy and child-bearingly wide). Periodically my hair falls out. I can't sleep. I love cake.
my ride
Saturday, mar. 15, 2008 | 0 comments
UPDATE: Oops! After a long, fine, six-year ride, I finally sold my cute, ridiculous car. As of February 2004, I am completely footloose and carfree -- tune in for glamorous tales of urban hiking and grocery hefting.- - - - - - - -
My old Honda, which served me well since college, was battered beyond recognition by crazy people and stereo thieves. Then one night, some totally drunk, insured (?!) person plowed into my left fender and then refused to pay the $200 that it would cost to get the wheels rolling again (I was far beyond caring about cosmetics at that point), so his insurance company declared my car totaled and gave me $3000 for my four-dollar car.
I determined that I was going to buy something nice and dependable with the money, something with power steering and doors that actually remained shut. So of course when I spotted this insanely cute red-striped car parked right there on the street with a flirty little "for sale" sign advertising a so-convenient-it-had-to-be-a-sign price tag of $3000, I bought the hell out of it. And for the next six years I was the sometimes proud, sometimes very sad (having the clutch go out spectacularly in the middle of an intersection, in the middle of a rain storm, in the middle of Los Angeles was a particular low), owner of the ridiculously impractical 1966 Ford Cortina!
my writing
Saturday, mar. 15, 2008 | 0 comments
I have a book! It's called The Secret Language of Sleep: A Couple's Guide to the Thirty-Nine Positions and it's published by McSweeney's! It was featured on "Good Morning America" and in O Magazine, Penthouse Forum, Esquire, The New York Post, The National Post, I.D. Magazine, SF Weekly), and some other places, and I got to do a whole bunch of readings and appearances all over the USA!
I've also typed up some things for a number of different people, including:
sundance film festival 2009
> My Sundance Experience, my 10-day mini column-blog thing
> Interview with the Sam Rockwell
> Tuning in to Music at this Year's Festival
> Sundance Survival Guide: Parts One and Two
> Loud and Clear: Brave New Voices Speak Green at this Year's Festival
fray: issue 1 -- busted!
> Buzzkill, a moving tale about misc-labeled boxes.
wholphin dvd: issue 4
> Fools Russian, a re-scripting of the "Schastlivy Vmeste" episode of the Russian Married with Children
edutopia
> The Trouble with Mr. Bighead, an essay about the shortcomings of technology in the classroom
> Techno Prisoners, an essay about the torment of seventh grade, then and now
the morning news
> Drumroll Please, an article about the fantasticity of the drum and bugle corps phenomenon
welcome to wisteria lane (a book of essays dedicated entirely to the show Desperate Housewives)
> The Good of the Group, an essay about the entertaining force that is the group female friendship
television without pity
> two seasons of desperate housewives recaps
mighty goods
> guest contributor
mcsweeneys.net
> sleep and ice tour diary
> weight gain, neglected necks, and other sleeping-pose advice
> 80s lineups that also read like tabloid headlines
> people I'd have sex with to avoid "dialing down the middle" with carrot top, as revealed by a recent game of "who would I rather sleep with?"
mcsweeney's quarterly concern: issue 17
> the tyrolean harvest sausage catalog, featuring an array of meats, candles, vegetable-inspired spreadables, plus one padded white figurine
pokersavvy
> a novice reviews the celebrity poker showdown
h2so4
> the dobler effectbreakup girl
> staging gracefully
> from re: re: to real
> the starbucks stops nowhere
> putting down tracks
> read my tits
> cat/sperm adoption
> a happier place on earth
> family antidoteswired news
> hot coffee, hot love
> the cortina theory
> finding love in sf
> from netscape to nightclub
And: You can find even more of my writing in my online diary,
the pug boat has landed!
Wednesday, mar. 12, 2008 | 0 comments
We've lucked our way into pug Zelda for the week, thanks to friends Amy and Greg being called out of town on SXSW duty. And now our standard early morning walk has become this most unruly circus on earth...
...with Piggy and the Pug lurching and twisting left to right, back to front...
...their leashes tripping and toppling and slicing me into pieces like I'm a giant block of cheese.
Does anyone remember the bulldog in the leather S&M cap and his...donkey?...sidekick, a puppet duo who made their fame doing commercial breaks during early afternoon television in the Bay Area in the 80s?
Anyone? Update: Kind JennieB just sent a memory nudget that the puppets -- a bulldog and HORSE -- were named Charlie and Humphrey, and they were a Channel 54 standby throughout the 60s, 70s, and 80s. See why the Pig and Pug made me think of them?
In the afternoon, the pug o' war begins, and the house is overcome with the rainfall of dog toenails on hardwood (the floor in the kitchen and hallway) alternating with the thunder of small furry bodies making tight turns and rolls on carpet (the floor in the living- and bed-rooms).
Dodge...
...and weave.
Pugs and kisses!
Pork Chops and Applesauce!
When Marco got home yesterday, he took Zelda and Piggy into the backyard; en route, Zelda took a small detour into the dojo martial arts training center next door, surprising a class full of karate kids. Piggy tore in right on Zelda's heels, and -- like a scene straight out of The Pacifier -- the two dogs raced circles around the squealing children as Marco and the Sensei tried to herd them back out onto the sidewalk.
At dinnertime, a small fist of a face hovers on the horizon, carefully watching our every move:
And at night, Zelda is reduced to a puggle of soft ears and chubby uncoiled tail-ness, and the house fills with the gentle sawing of small, smash-face snoring. And Marbles the cat finally emerges from her hiding place in the closet. (Hey, look at our new pillow! A happy spillover from Brian and Sandra's recent move!)
