[ A Vanity Project ]

The Groove Is Back

2009-07-08T20:26:00.003-04:00

I miss writing, so I'm starting again with 20 things about me:

1. I taught myself how to tie my own shoes at three years old. I was such the over-achiever back then but not so much anymore.

2. When I was nine years old, I won a front-end alignment from the radio station by answering a trivia question about local history. I didn’t even know what a front-end alignment was.

3. I made a blind man flinch several times in the passenger seat of my 1975 Toyota Corona while taking mountain road curves on two wheels. That's when I realized I needed to become a better driver.

4. I had a 7"x4" tumor removed from my leg and walked with a cane for seven months afterwards. The handle of the cane was a detailed sculpture of a dog's head carved from soapstone.

5. I painted fire hydrants for a whole summer.

6. I sneeze like your grandpa.

7. I was recently moved to tears by an episode of What Not To Wear on TLC.

8. I do not enjoy fireworks at all.

9. I think I have cancer at least once a week. Different kinds.

10. I never broke any bones as a kid and have broken way too many as an adult, leg and arm among them.

11. Once I went to the hospital with freak stomach pain and was diagnosed with a distended colon. That basically means I was packed full of shit.

12. I fell in front of this chick running up a flight of stairs and totally blew her image of me. I know because she told my friend.

13. I once rode horses through the woods off the coast of Alaska.

14. I got so pissed at my friend John playing X-Men on Playstation that I threw a controller at him and stormed out. Just to press my buttons, when I checked my email later that evening, there was a link to an anger management website from him.

15. I got stuck floating down a river for nine hours at night in a styrofoam sailboat that my friend's dad got from the KOOL cigarettes catalog in the 1960s. I nearly froze to death.

16. I just remembered I had some grape Big League Chew gum in my purse and am gonna chew some right now.

17. I got a full scholarship to college.

18. The best part about having kids would be naming them and dressing them. Therefore I have decided that childbearing is not in anyone's best interest. Instead I should opt for a My Buddy.

19. I live with a fem-bot.

20. I want to be rolled up and smoked when I die.

~ the lady love

What If?

2008-01-22T10:50:00.001-05:00

What if I told you that it was jealousy that might make me to start writing again? Or that sneezing sometimes made my nipples hard. Or that the cinema is my new drug, replacing fat bags with films at ten bucks a pop.

What if I told you that I pretended to like In The Bedroom more than I actually did and that I’m not making that same mistake with No Country for Old Men just because I’m supposed to. It is leading the pack in Oscar nods this year ya know... But some movies just move. Way. Too. Slow.

For.

My.

Taste.

To put it in the words of one Cher Horowitz, as if.

~ the lady love

I Tried. I Failed.

2007-09-19T22:21:00.000-04:00

Been sitting here trying to post, and it's just not happening. Somebody recently told me that I needed to start posting again, so I'm trying. But I'm failing. It's agony, honestly. Can I really be that empty?

Or maybe I'm just really that full.

On a side note, do yourself a big favor and check this out. Click play.

~ the lady

Starfucker

2007-08-17T01:34:00.000-04:00

Haha. I took a stroll back through my blog trying to find "it" again. That is, my ability to write like I used to, which is funny because I've spent every day for the past 7 months writing professionally so you'd think it'd be easy for me to pick up right where I left off. Not so. Blogging made me a much better writer in my professional life, but the reverse hasn't proved to be true.

Anyway, as I perused the annals, I was surprised to see that I had a good number of half-posts still in the cooker. Maybe 10 of them, just sitting there in draft form waiting to be finished (which reminds me of myself).

Anyway, I don't know exactly what caused me to start this one and never finish it, but I got a good laugh from it. So in lieu of an actual new post, I give you this:

From December 23, 2005

Starfucker

Starfuckers buuuuug me. Starfucking takes the shape of many forms and usually reveals something very important about a person if you pay attention enough to see it. I myelf am an observer, so I do. In all instances that I have discerned a person's starfucker qualities, starfucking can be distilled down to one thing: self esteem - or lack thereof. And it's usually women who are the starfuckers.

Proximity and accessibility to a star(s) is mandatory for one to be a bonafide starfucker. Otherwise, one is just a wannabe-starfucker. Meaning they would if they could but they can't. Nope.

Starfucking has many layers. Really astute starfuckers can actually spot a potential star, which is a crowning achievement for a starfucker. When celebrity strikes, it matters not that the starfucking came pre-stardom. Popping a proverbial celebrity cherry gives starfuckers similar satisfaction to what they glean from starfucking a star in his prime.

Even better, starfuck him (or her) again later and know that, even as a star, you can still starfuck them. You see, starfuckers aren't exclusively looking for conquests or notches on the belt. They want impact. Staying power. To be desired. Appreciated. Remembered. Recognized. Somebody with both a name and a face that will be remembered by the star after months - even years - of thousands of other fleeting names and faces. Starfuckers want a star's personal email address.

Not all starfuckers readily brag, either. A good many starfuckers are actually much more discreet and covert than to brag outright, managing to drop an appropriately timed name or story, which lends credibility to a starfucker. See, starfuckers don't want to be perceived as starfuckers. In fact, starfuckers tend to scoff at the likes of groupies and obsessive fans and even other starfuckers because starfuckers themselves want to think they are more than just starfuckers.

-----

Wtf? I don't know where I was headed with that, but I really wish I'd finished because I'd like to know where I'd end up. Oh well.

~ the lady

Junk

2007-05-27T19:55:00.001-04:00

I got a new car. It's a fully-loaded, sweet little ride. I've been lusting after this car for five years since I drove one, and now I finally got it. Yay for me.

Next, I am addicted to the Maroon 5 song Makes Me Wonder, which I actually felt guilty about until I read this about their album: "Sometimes it's O.K.--even important--to put aside your reluctance to embrace artists who make teenage girls scream."

~ the lady

Save Internet Radio

2007-04-30T13:00:00.000-04:00

The recent ruling by the Copyright Royalty Board to increase webcasters' royalty rates between 300 and 1200 percent over the next 5 years jeopardizes the industry and threatens to homogenize Internet radio.

Artists, listeners, and Webcasters, have joined the Save Internet Radio coalition to help save Internet radio. The coalition believes strongly in compensating artists, but Internet radio as we know it will not survive under the new royalties.

The website has a lot of good info including a facts/myths section.

Check it out:
Save Internet Radio

2007-03-14T17:35:00.001-04:00

Is that a table tent in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

Bang, Bang

2007-02-06T16:25:00.000-05:00

Atlanta is one of those cities where many neighborhoods are simultaneously nice and ghetto. I live in one such neighborhood. But Sunday night when I heard a nearby "bang, bang", I got a little rattled - more so than usual. With the recent murder of my neighbor coupled with my weekend viewings of Blood Diamond and The Departed, I guess I was a bit gun-shy, so to speak.

My roommate and I were just finishing up a movie late Sunday evening when the two shots sounded off. I muted the tv and tentatively peeked out the window, looking and listening intently. Heather began to poke fun at me - asking me if I wanted to go outside on the porch and smoke a cigarette. Laughter (on her part) ensued. She egged me on, giving me hell for being such a wuss. Bitch.

Next thing we know, a subsequent "bang, bang, bang" rang out - even closer than the first two shots. Heather, who was sitting in the chair by the window - hit the deck running to the back of house while she ducked to dodge flyaway bullets. I followed suit, though my leg was not happy about my attempt to run.

Her husband was in the back in their bedroom watching the Super Bowl. We explained what was going on, but then he told us that the game had just ended, so it had to be fireworks going off.

Ummm, yeah. Fireworks. That's what we thought. Fireworks.

The good news is that I've not let Heather live down the moment she sprang from her chair and took off running. I'm still laughing at that sight.

~ the lady

Say Hallo, Cookie

2007-01-23T17:46:00.000-05:00

Next week I am finishing up a three-month contract with a client. Gotta say I'm not terribly disappointed about it, either. After this lengthy stint, I'm worried that I may be too far gone to ever be able to return to the corporate world full time. Over the past several years, I've grown to be excessivly anti-establishment. I have zero patience for bureaucracy, not to mention that my growing civil obedience "take[s] Thoreau to a whole new level" according to my friend over Google Chat. Heh. I did, however, get solace from a bumper sticker the other day that said, "Well behaved women seldom make history." Heh heh.

Anyway, I don't necessarily think this is misbehaving, but it's damn funny. Yesterday morning, as I stood in the kitchen at work twirling a banana in my hand and waiting for my bagel to toast, I grew bored. So, for my own amusement, I lifted the banana to my ear and intoned "ring, ring."

"Hallo?" I spoke into the banana, "Yes, just a minute please..." Then I turned to the woman next to me, tapped her on the shoulder, and gestured to pass the banana to her: "Here, it's for you."

You know, she actually started to take it. Heh heh heh.

~ the lady

Too Close for Comfort

2007-01-15T14:32:00.000-05:00

The neighbor who lived three doors down from us was murdered. I heard gun shots.

~ the lady

The Short List

2006-12-27T14:48:00.001-05:00

1) I'm addicted to instant oatmeal. Original flavor. Add a pat of butter and a packet of Splenda and I'm in heaven.

2) I can't decide if the president of the company I am currently contracting with is a) devoid of personality or b)is just really a prick or c) is a prick who is devoid of personality.

3) I despise the term African American. Just because the color of one's skin is black or brown and his or her ancestors were indigenous to Africa does not necessarily make them a) African or b) American. I know plenty of black folks who really are Africans living in the United States though they are not American citizens, and likewise, I know plenty of black folks who are neither African nor American but are tagged as "African Americans" based on something as superficial as the pigmentation of their skin. Coincidentally, I've known more people that are "white" who technically are "African Americans" - that is, African emigrants who are now American citizens - and I'm talking blonde-haired-blue-eyed white people who were actually born and raised in the motherland.

Political correctness is such a joke.

4) Dear god, please give me the strength to stop indulging certain annoying people before I lose control and scream, "Shut the fuck up, cry baby!" I swear I'm not a masochist. Sometimes I'm just too nice.

~ the lady

Blog This!

2006-12-19T12:08:00.000-05:00

This series of self portraits by Noah Kalina made my day.

He also has another website called Noah Kalina Everyday where he posts a photo of himself that he takes, well, every day.

~ the lady

Road Rage

2006-12-12T10:09:00.000-05:00

Here's a novel idea: checking your blind spot. In the past two days, I've almost died twice on the interstate from jerk-offs pulling in front of me without checking their blindspots. I'm talking big, dramatic incidents that have my tires smoking, my car fish-tailing, and me being forced off to the side of the road with my heart nearly pounding out of my chest.

~ the lady

Once More, With Feeling

2006-12-09T00:07:00.000-05:00

A great thing happened the other night. Just, really, great.

I was hanging out with Amy and Dan at their house. And usually when I hang out with them at their place, we end up breaking into song. I recall one night a few months ago when we somehow ended up singing '70s and '80s karaoke in their living room by way of their digital cable - just the three of us, sitting around and laughing and singing together. So it wasn't unusual the other night when Dan grabbed his guitar and announced they should do "Easy Like Sunday Morning" for me while Amy accompanied him on the piano. So they did, and I just listened and enjoyed their rendition because my voice was on the blink due to bronchitis.

After they finished the song, Amy casually started playing around on the piano - playing something soft and pretty that aroused my curiosity, so I said, "That's really nice. Really pretty. What is it?" She said it was just something she'd been working on. "Really?" I asked, "Cool. I wanna hear more." She said okay, disappeared to her room momentarily, and returned with a sheet of paper. She resumed her place at the keyboard and began to play.

"I really like that. I could see writing a song to that." Then she said, "Well let me tell you some of the words I've got so far."

"Really? You mean you're actually writing a song with words and all? Wow. Cool."

After a nice intro, Amy began to sing, "I touch the fire and it freezes me..."

I immediately burst into laughter. "Oh my god! That's hilarious." See, I recognized the song instantly from the musical episode "Once More, With Feeling" from season five of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. "Man, you really had me going there for a second. I thought you were actually writing a song. That's awesome, though."

She didn't respond but kept her attention focused on the music.

Dan was sitting next to me. I turned to him and explained why I was so amused. "See, this is a song from an episode... blah blah blah..."

He nodded with a sudden sense of understanding. "Yeeeaaah, okay. I remember seeing that." Then, all of a sudden and completely unexpectedly, Dan began to sing along.

Huh? What? What in the world was going on here? I've known Dan for a good long while - many years, in fact. I had no idea that he was familiar enough with Buffy to launch into song like that, and trust me, that's something I was certain I would have known about him. I was so confused, and I sat there dumbfounded trying to put together the pieces of this developing puzzle.

Next thing I knew, Dan arose from the couch and wandered over next to Amy at the piano while he continued to sing. And they didn't just sing - they sang harmonies and different parts. It was so strange because it was oddly similar to the way the singing occurred in the episode itself. See, in the episode, the whole town was under the spell of this demon, and no one was immune to his wily ways. Everyone uncontrollably sang all the dialogue. For a second I even had a dream-like feeling that I was in my own version of the episode. Ha!

They pressed on through the end of the song, and by the time it had ended - amidst my amusement and confusion and enjoyment - I had come to the conclusion that they had been practicing this little number. There was just no possible way that this incident was as spontaneous as it had appeared to be. When they finished, I exclaimed, "You guys have been practicing this, haven't you?!"

They laughed with joy and excitement. They told me they came up with the idea the weekend I broke my leg. They thought it just plain sucked for me, so they wanted to do something to make me happy. They had been practicing steadily for a month - learning the music, the words, the harmonies, the parts. They had even told people about their plan. So when Dan learned that I was coming over, he covertly asked Amy, "Do you think we're ready? Do you think we can pull it off? We have to do it. Who knows? It might be months before the three of us were in this situation again."

So they did it. Apparently, they discussed potential scenarios to make it happen in a way to that seemed natural, and they were thrilled with how organically the moment came together. They couldn't have wanted their scheme to go more seamlessly than it did. Amy even said she knew I was hooked as soon as I asked her what it was that she was playing. "Yes!" she thought.

Afterwards, we sat together and laughed. We recounted the scenario and the thoughts that were going through each of our heads as the event played out. And we smiled a lot. I was so pleased and touched that they would do this for me, they were giddy about my reactions from start to finish, and they were happy with themselves for pulling it off.

Once more with feeling wasn't necessary this time, though. They did it with enough feeling the first time to keep me in grins all week long.

~ the lady

Epitaph

2006-12-06T14:23:00.000-05:00

Burris recently asked, "What would you like as your epitaph?"

After some thought (and it didn't take much thought), I came up with this:

She Loved. A Lot.

Yeah. That's it.

~ the lady

Giving Myself the Ick

2006-11-28T14:48:00.000-05:00

I'm not typically a jealous person, but today I am writhe with jealousy over the stupidest things. I'm frothing at the mouth over the pretty girl and accolades heaped upon her in a recent portrait series I viewed (as well as the lovely portraits themselves). And despite laughing until my cheeks hurt during a session of reminiscing, I was secretly jealous of the all the clever pranks a co-worker had pulled on other people around the office.

Are you kidding me, man? Pictures and pranks? What the hell is wrong with me? I've reverted to being a 13 year-old girl.

Nothing is more unbecoming than jealousy in my opinion, and I'm a little disgusted with myself right now.

~ definitely not the lady

Not So Guilty Pleasure

2006-11-28T12:35:00.000-05:00

Don't discount the talent of one Justin Timberlake based on his boy-band background, his popularity on MTV, or his over-exposure on commercial radio. The boy's got mojo.

I first gave him a listen when this girl I was digging on surprised me by being really into him. I laughed at first in disbelief, much like some ignorant folk used to do (and still do) to me upon the mention of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. So before passing judgment on his music, I thought I should at least listen to it first. Well, that was probably three years ago, and coincidentally, his first solo CD is still in regular rotation in my car (in fact, I think it’s in my disc player right now). It’s got some kickin’ tracks save for a few sappy ballads that force my hand to the ‘skip’ button.

He recently released a new album and I had yet to give it a go – until today. I previewed the 12 songs on Amazon.com just a few minutes ago, and folks, I’m heading directly to the music store as soon as I get off work.

~ the lady

Bored Now

2006-11-27T21:42:00.000-05:00

I've been disappointed in the quality of my posts lately. I've been wanting to get back to my old ways, for certain, but instead I've been blogged down with spotty, abbreviated posts (like this one) about the basic state of my existance. Not very interesting for a writer like myself. Mainly, though, my internet access has been limited and unfortunately public ever since I crushed my laptop, so I haven't had the ideal time and space to do my writing thing for real. And tonight is no exception.

~ the lady

It's Hard Out Here for a Gimp

2006-11-22T10:30:00.000-05:00

Introducing my Hustle & Flow-inspired theme song, "It's Hard Out Here for a Gimp"...

you know it's hard out here for a gimp
when I'm tryin' to get a cast for this limp
but with the money that I make as a temp
I'd do better as a ho with a pimp

----

This is how I spend my nights laying in bed as I fall asleep - thinking up this stuff. Lovely.

~ the lady

People In Glass Crack Houses

2006-11-21T13:35:00.000-05:00

There was a nasty rumor circulating a few months ago among a small group of people (okay, two people who unsuccessfully tried to make it a larger group) that I am a drug addict, which is entirely NOT TRUE, and if I spend too much time thinking about it, I can get really pissed. Nevertheless, it just occurred to me the irony that, even after breaking my leg, I have yet to medicate for pain (excepting the Aleve I took twice). For a drug addict, I'm not doing a very good job at being a drug addict.

Coincidentally, the second question out of most people's mouth - after first asking how I broke my leg - is if I have good pain pills. When I reply that I'm not taking any painkillers, do you know how many people have asked me if they could have my prescription? A lot.

Folks, we are a pill nation, not to mention a bunch of fucking hypocrites. Especially those two people I mentioned earlier. The irony there? The laundry list of THC, DUIs, MAOIs, SSRIs, and various IUPACs and other acronyms between the two of them could account for a small village of people.

So, whatever your DOC, just remember one thing: people in glass crack houses shouldn't throw crack rocks.

~ the lady

Break Dem Bones

2006-11-07T10:50:00.000-05:00

I broke my left leg. I've got a 2nd degree sprain in my right ankle. I am, for all intents and purposes, disabled. Uh-huh.

I've learned a lot about our disgraceful healthcare system through this whole ordeal. See, I don't have health insurance, nor am I on welfare. So, in the eyes of our fine healthcare professionals, I don't exist and neither does my broken leg because, well, healthcare is nothing more than a business, my friends.

I've got so much to say on this topic, so look for an elaborate discourse on the subject soon.

In the meantime, I should be getting a cast on Wednesday, so I hope that going without one for five days won't mean more damage to my leg. Unfortunately no greedy doctor will see me until I can pay for all of it upfront, and I don't get paid until Wednesday. So until then, I wait...

In the meantime, for your viewing pleasure I've included my x-ray. I actually felt and heard it snap. Eeeek.

More On That Bank of Assholes

2006-11-03T14:55:00.000-05:00

Got an email from Grace consoling me on my Bank of America fiasco. She sent me a link to this story by her friend Rob. Folks, to a "T" this is what happened to me. Exactly.

Oh yeah, and for more BOA evil-doing, check out this story about a guy who got arrested for fraud at a BOA despite not committing fraud. Grace sent me this link, too, because she's a Clark Howard groupie.

The Evil That Is Bank of America

2006-10-31T13:12:00.000-05:00

Evil. Evil. Evil.

I'm headed straight from work to the bank to close my accounts that I've had for 7 years. Bank of America will fuck you any way they possibly can to earn a buck. Seriously.

There was an incident a couple years ago when a vendor mistakenly processed the same transaction multiple times, which overdrew my account by several hundred dollars. After the vendor PROMPTLY credited the money back to my account, Bank of America refused to refund their overdraft charges despite the fact that it clearly was not a banking error on my part. Sure, I understood that it wasn't Bank of America's fault, either, but Bank of America was plenty happy to let me get completely screwed in the process by being caught in the middle. Fortunately, after many attempts, I finally reached a compassionate soul at the Bank who saw the absurdity of the situation and did the right thing by reversing the charges. He was the Sidi Hamet to my Captain James Riley.

Then, this weekend, I very accidentally overdrew my checking account by $0.71. Yet somehow Bank of America conveniently rearranged the order in which transactions posted to my account despite the fact that I keep a daily eye on my account through their online banking system. Next thing I know, they've deducted an extra $140 in overdraft fees.

Huh? How is that even possible? So I call them up, and they are confusing and completely unhelpful. They are soulless thieves who are no better than the thug who busts my car window or breaks into my house looking for money, jewelry and electronics.

I hate them. I really, really do. Fuckers.

Atlanta's Only European Boutique-Style Hotel

2006-10-18T09:53:00.000-04:00

Grace took this one inside my room:

A Clean, Well-Lighted Place

~ the lady

I'm Not Dead Yet

2006-10-12T16:40:00.000-04:00

I'm alive. Living in a hotel. Sold everything I owned except for what would fit in my car. (Okay, so I kept all my art as well, which is stored at a friend's place.) Don't freak out. I want it this way. Remember this post?

Got a contract with a new client through December, and now of course my phone is blowing up from tons of calls about work. It only took getting work to get work. Go figure. I just had to sell off my life, sleep on a pal's couch, then move into a hotel and eat bread for a week.

I'm good, though.

~ the lady slummin'