from baby to benatards

Wednesday, feb. 21, 2007   |   0 comments

It’s a fine Thursday eve that starts with champagne, cupcakes, and a brand new baby named Hank Mason and ends with a cover of Hell is for Children so rousing, you pull a smiler muscle.

This last shot is of the monitor featuring a live feed of the band, but doesn’t it kind of look like a sonogram? And oh what a womb that would be! Like a white womb, with black curtains, maybe?

oh my friends are all such gifts of giftedness!

Monday, dec. 4, 2006   |   0 comments

Good news is coming in fast from every corner of my network of golden pals:

Stephanie Vander Weide Lucianovic, also known as Keckler from Television Without Pity gives us CocktailSmarts: “It’s a booklet! It’s a game! It’s some brightly colored coasters! With recipes!” An educational drinking game that teaches you stuff that makes you want to drink even more? It’s like Quarters, only better. I KNOW! I’ve already ordered three: one for me, one for a Christmas gift for some secret special someone, and one just so I’m prepared the next time an emergency hostess gift scenario rolls around.

This past Sunday, dear Maggie appeared on NPR’s Weekend Edition show! Maggie was so eloquent, and her shopping advice so compelling, that half the world clicked over to Mighty Goods, creating a traffic storm so frenzied, it temporarily choked the site. And as a long-time fan of Maggie’s writing and sixth sense of style, I absolutely understand all the hullabaloo.

The Bellyachers (superfine friends Brian, Sandra, and Peter) have just launched a stylish little mini-trampoline of a site, lovingly designed to give you the jump on their new album, “300 Letters to God Found in the Atlantic,” which they’ll be releasing song by delicious song.

And friend-since-third-grade China Adams has assembled a majestic sampling of her tight body of work. Looking at her stuff all in one place like this, I’m awestruck by how smart and talented and inspired and funny and, wow, just so incredibly hard-working she is, and how lucky the world is to have her. (Back to me: though my photo isn’t one of the ones up on the sample site, yours truly was one of the ten people photographed for her Blood Consumption project — I donated a pint of blood and everything. I’m kind of a patron of the arts that way.)

How did I get so lucky to be surrounded by such a candy cloud of smarts and talent? I wonder.

nyc2, joan sweat, shitbeans

Monday, jul. 10, 2006   |   0 comments

I locked myself out of the apartment yesterday. Again. I think it’s the dog that’s doing it to me, all the hustle and rush and frantic jumping and wiggling that goes into getting her leash on frazzles my brain, which is plenty flighty to begin with, and I just completely forget to grab my keys, which are RIGHT THERE by the door, resting in their little wooden apple key holder.

Since Marco didn’t get home from work until 4:30, and since the lock-out occurred circa 1:30, I had about three hours of alfresco time to kill. So I strolled to 7-11 and got a Slurpee, then I set up one of the beach chairs in the backyard and alternately dozed and read my sidekick (and made a huge dent in the mimi smartypants archives, what a sweet treat to discover someone whose writing and outlook you really adore and admire so much you just want to BITE ITS CHEEKS OFF, and then lo! You dig a little deeper and discover that there’s also a fat, fat archive to binge through, yes!). Basically, aside from the fresh-air part, Locked Out Evany spent yesterday the exact same way Regular Evany did every other day this week: lounging, reading, and drooling. Which gave me some pause. Maybe it’s time for me to for real start thinking about getting a job? You know, before I completely lose the ability to maintain consciousness for longer than three hours at a stretch? But oooh, my job muscle is going to be so SORE when I get to working again! Assuming there’s even work out there for me to be found, ugh.

In lighter, brighter news, I just got back from yet another trip to New York, and this one was a lot, lot longer and funner than the two-day windsprint of early June. Aside from one harrowing reading (my favorite Todd invited me to do some slide-showing in June’s How To Kick People show, and despite people’s assurances that “[public appearing] is going to get easier,” the stage terror seems to be holding steady … I blame it on the varied nature of the events I’m doing; each one is so radically different from the one before it, and each comes with its own new set of new alarming features, that there’s really no way to get into a nice, comforting, nerve-soothing rhythym. For instance this time I was up there with two seasoned comedians plus the insanely poised and charismatic and comfortable and likeable Bob and Todd. And the show was held in a very “stand up”-style venue, with the low lights and the tables and drinks and the yelling. In other words it was terrifying, and terrifying in way totally different from the petrifying LA show, or the heart-stopping DC show, or the scary, scary first NY show.

So aside from the nerve-twanginess of the show, and aside from suffering under the dark influences of a fairly terrible cold (contracted the very day before my flight out of town), and aside from the great many surprise thundershowers (which as a Californian I just can not get my head around … in these parts, if you look out the window spot solid blue skies, the entire day is 99.9% guaranteed not to require an umbrella, not so New York, you slippery, wet traitor!), and aside from an unexpected and embarrassing teenage-style “I’m a third wheel” sulk that I had while shopping with two of my oldest friends, Liz and Megan (context: Liz and Megan are both beautiful blonde size super-smalls and we were at Century 21 and the two of them found bags and bags of cute things to buy whilst I bought zero because I fit into NOTHING, which was unfortunately followed directly by a yucky conflict between my desire of “I crave doughnuts” and their “we crave an invigorating workout at the gym,” which, if I’m being honest with my jiggly self, is potentially related to the afore mentioned “not fitting into designer clothing” issue? In short: isn’t it amazing how hanging out with friends from high school can sometimes make you feel young again, and not always in a great way?) … aside from all that, it was a very relaxing and delightful trip!

I finally did manage to find some cute clothes that fit me fine — a sale skirt and a sale top — plus two pairs of shoes and also some earrings. Also I got felt up by a Hasidic woman who then sold me six truly uplifting bras! And eventually my mouth and I did get the chance to pay my very favorite Doughnut Plant a visit (the coconut cream special was brain-bendingly tasty). And, once I got over my snit (and the ensuing horror over the fact that I, at thirty-six years of age, am still totally capable of irrational snits), I had a truly lovely time at my miniscule high school reunion: the three of us got in lots of walking and shopping and coffee and wine and heart-to-hearting and outfit-trying-on-ing; and together we invented a new term, the “blond spot,” as in “Wait, what? Butros Butros-Ghali is no longer the United Nations’ Secretary-General? Oh. Well. I do have a bit of a blond spot when it comes to political leaders.” And later Paul treated me to a new restaurant, Knife and Fork, where I enjoyed a very long and rich meal and managed to resist showing the waitstaff my thematically appropriate tattoo, which I view as encouraging evidence of my budding maturity; younger Evany was a huge fan of forcing my commonalities on barely willing participants: “Hey, thanks for the [buttered popcorn/double-tall latte/nuclear iced tea] I really appreciate it because I TOO USED TO WORK AT [A MOVIE THEATER/STARBUCKS/RED ROBIN]!!” But wiser Evany, I’m thrilled to report, is capable of keeping her trap shut and her tattoo in her pants. The snit thing, however, is still a work in progress.

Oh and Jeffrey conveniently turned forty while I was there, and I got to celebrate it over a beautiful, bountiful meal prepared by his sassy, shoe-gifted girlfriend Teva. (Did you know that there are no cabs in Brooklyn? That you have to locate some weird little man in a glass box and request a ride, and then three minutes later a dark, unmarked car pulls up at the curb and you hop blithely in, and then, after haggling up a price, you drive off with some strange man who doesn’t really know the area and you get lost and lost and lost? Well, that’s what happens.)

Chinatown pig (with piglets).

Tall, blond, gorgeous Megan designed and built her own light fixtures, see!

Shopping, walking, walking, shopping.

Megan, snapped while snapping photos of unusual fruits.

Megan, getting all her hair sliced off, with Liz (also tall, blond, gorgeous) watching on.

Liz shows off her new New York fashions.


Megan and Liz show off their new New York fashions.

Megan, Liz, and I show off our new New York fashions.

One last preview in the mirror in the lobby of Megan’s fifth floor walkup. (Spot a spot? Run into a run? Live with it, sister! because unless you like lost six buttons and your nipples are hanging out or you forgot to wear pants, there is no WAY you’re going back up those stairs.)

Walking the streets, full of red, red wine.

More street-walking.

I wish, I wish, I wish-ing at that park along the river (where a dog deliberately covered me with a fine shake of pungent dog water).

After the How To Kick People show, with Todd, Caroline, and Kathy!

(And here is where I was going to include the photo I took that same night of Todd and the awesomely talented (writing AND photographing, not at all fair) Lisa, but I seem to have captured the split-split-second that these two didn’t look glorious all night, my camera is such a villan.)

Rain, rain, rain, thunder, lightening, rain…in JULY, madness.

So! That was New York. I flew home and got back super late on Sunday, and then, THEN, the very next day, Marco talked us all into going to the Marin County Fair to go see Joan Jett. See?

Is Joan Jett suddenly now yogi Madonna’s body double? Or maybe vice versa.
(Photo swiped from the Marco: for more amazing shots of the sweating Jett, visit Marco’s Flickr island.)

PS: Did you catch that, I’m now thirty-six? It’s true, it happened on June 19th. And to celebrate, the searing Sunny took Leisa, Jeff, Caroleen, Liz, Ivan, Jill, Halliday, and Marco, she took us ALL out for dinner at Asia SF, and then everyone chipped in to get me a snootful of girly pink drinks, which went very well with the girly girls dancing along the bar. My favorite: the sassy sarsaparilla who came out in in a baggy orange jumpsuit and danced around to “Car Wash,” while snapping a towel, then — at the half-way point — she tore away the jumpsuit to reveal hot jeans and hot halter top, at which point both bartenders turned their drink guns in her direction and soaked her with sodawater. Happy birthday indeed.

(Yeah, again with Marco’s pics. And there’s more!)

PPS: Marco, Tom, and I went to the beach today, down in Pacifica (so Marco could try out his NEW LONG BOARD and also NEW WETSUIT), and I managed to sunburn my right calf beyond all reason. Also, I’ve been in a foul temper all day, an eight-hour crabbiness to match my crab-red leg, yay. Meanwhile: Did you know that they shit in the refried beans at the Taco Bell in Pacifica? That’s what they say.

more words on: high school, my friends do the greatest things, pals

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wheeeee!

Thursday, apr. 6, 2006   |   0 comments

Adrienne’s piece was so perfect, and the artist Tracey Snelling so quietly appealing, and the woman’s art (little pitch-perfect houses which stand on their own but also photograph beautifully in the strange context of the real-sized world) so fantastically awesome and satisfying! Watching it was like a tidy little reminder that the world is filled with wee explosions of light and possibility. (Also there was a lot of champagne.) See what I mean?

Keith’s opening was yet another huge yay. Marco and I were sadly there for only about ten minutes (last night being crazily jam-packed with television hosting and also bed-frame buying), but it was long enough to say hi, gobble some nuts, and also fall in love; Marco’s favorite was the ordway, and mine was 400 moons (which is wormishly beautiful in and of itself, but also prompts the very personal association of my dreamy trip to Redding).

In other news: I gave my one month’s notice at my beloved apartment. It’s true, Marco and I are taking the cohabitation plunge! I’m moving into his nice apartment in OAKLAND, which turns out is not actually in San Francisco? Eeeeee! Change is scary, and exciting, and wistful! And involves many, many boxes.

Up next: tonight it’s Alice Shaw’s book signing for People Who Look Like Me. (What a stupendous idea for a picture book, holy wow!)

note to self: take egg off speed dial

Thursday, mar. 9, 2006   |   0 comments

Yesterday my very favorite Paul made his debut in the pages of the New York Times with a story entitled “Take Egg off Speed Dial,” which covers the art and feasibilities of cooking eggs with cellphones, an iron, a dishwasher, and even a drip coffee maker. The story looks even better on paper, as I immediately confirmed by running out and buying the tangible version of the paper for point-at-able posterity. A triumphant event on like seventeen different levels! Such, such good news.

Yesterday I also went to go see Alice Shaw’s slide show at the SF Arts Commission Gallery. Her photos always feature a funny/odd combination of elements — my favorite this time around were the two candid portraits of people caught wearing tees featuring life-size portraits of other (famous) people, with the tee-face coming off as an equal party in pose — and this, her latest show, had me laughing out loud at least six different times (or more…only my date Jill knows for sure). I’m a huge fan of both Alice and her photography, and if you’re ever in near proximity to either, I heartily recommend you rearrange your schedule accordingly.

Also good yesterday: Pride and Prejudice (total crying jags? two. additional notables? wow on that “thousand-year-old property gone to seed” scenery), cookies bought from Citizen Cake, pizza, and the company of Caroleen, Adrienne, Liz, and the aforementioned Jill. We also had yet another screening of Marco‘s new Trapped in the Closet DVD. (He and I accidentally got trapped watching the first five Trappeds one day on MTV and then we went on to spend the next few weeks singing along to all of life’s mundanities — “We’re out of half-and-half!” “You sipped it up? Now feel my wrath!” etc. So I bought the DVD as my Valentine’s Day present to him. And when he unwrapped it, he couldn’t help himself, he just said, with a blank face, “Why did you buy this?” Since then, he’s tried to explain away his underwhelmed response by saying the accent was on the “why” and the “buy” not the “this,” which of course makes no difference, which in turn is why I love him so.) Each time we force someone to watch this “hip hopera,” it’s met with a different response. Last night, it received an awesome stunned silence, which was an altogether different take than all the laughing, yelling, screaming, and carrying on that that went down when Stephen, Jessica, Sandra, Brian, Marco, and I first saw it (our experience pretty much exactly mirroring Pamie and friends’ shared laugh meltdown “moment just after the last word in Chapter Nine”). And there were a lot fewer giggles and puzzled objections than Kristin (giggles) and Pat (objections) gave out when I forced them watch it. And less horrified cackling than Shree produced when I made her watch it. In any case, I can safely report that, after four viewings in two weeks, the ten-second loop of moisture-drop beats doesn’t quite hold up. Still I say to you what Pam said to me, back when I was down in LA in February. I asked her, all innocent, “Can you explain this whole insane Closet thing, what the hell?” And she said to me, with the complete conviction of a true, true heart: “Do yourself a favor: just go out and buy yourself the DVD. Immediately. Move!” And that’s exactly what I did.

Not so good yesterday: the fizzle-nale of Project Runway, snore.

But, all in all, yay March 8, 2006!