The Opposite of Normal

2011-06-26T00:04:00.001-07:00

Kaylee is opening her very own special-order baked-goods delivery service!! Go to her site, Kaylee's Kakes, to order deeeeelicious goods!
Here are just some of the tasty treats offered:
Chocolate cupcakes with creamy Peanut Buttercream frosting
Piña Colada Cocunut Rum cake
Green Tea cupcakes with sweet-tart Blackberry frosting
German Chocolate cake
Oatmeal and Extra Raisin cookies (made by me!)
Mango-Mango cake

The Crazies

2011-03-03T16:18:00.000-08:00

I think my dog might be insane. Like, legitimately. First off, she is currently cowering in the tightest corner she can find, shaking so much that I can literally hear her teeth chattering. I didn't even know dogs' teeth could chatter. Then she tried to climb over my computer tower. There is no room between my desk, the wall, and the computer tower, so I'm not sure where she thought she was going, but I had to put a chair in the way to keep her from breaking anything! While it is a well-known fact in my house that the dog is afraid of rain, snow, spray bottles (really just water in general), thunder, having her picture taken, baths, Great Danes, sunshine, butterflies, lollipops, happiness, etc., she is, at the moment, in the presence of none of the above malevolent forces (except happiness, but that was just hyperbole to demonstrate her craziness).

To add to her lunacy, I sometimes find her with her nose pressed up to within a half-inch of various objects, such as the side of my bed, the leg of a chair, or a cabinet in the kitchen. Let me stop you before you say, "Hold on a tic there, Joderita. She's a dog. Dogs like to sniff things, that's probably what she's doing." She is not sniffing anything. In fact, it's hard to tell if she is, in fact, breathing at all. She stands there, stock-still, gazing into the nothingness before her. Also, she whines about nothing. It's like her new goal in life is to perfect the art of letting air out on a middle C. Perhaps this is always how she's been and I just didn't notice it until Boyfriend started pointing it out. She doesn't appear to be sick, she doesn't need water or food or to be let out, and she has a very cushy comfy place to rest her aging bones. She gets petted regularly, bathed semi-regularly, and rough-housed quite frequently between Boyfriend and me. I'm telling you, my dog = crazy.

New Story?

2010-06-06T21:15:00.001-07:00

Lemme know what y'all think.

Parker Beddington bit the tip of her pen anxiously, concentrating on the blank before her. The clock on her desk-phone rapidly pushed closer and closer to her deadline, while the inner-workings of her brain moved like molasses toward her end goal. Three hundred words. It rang like a death-toll in her mind as she slid her black-framed glasses back up the bridge of her nose. Three hundred words. She'd never missed a deadline before and she wasn't about to now. All she needed to do was to write three hundred measly words. Why was this proving so difficult?

"Probably because thirty words are too many to waste on a pair of shoes, let alone three hundred. Even if they are Jimmy Choos," she grumbled to herself.

"I heard that, Beddington!" came a voice from across the cubicles. "It didn't sound anything like an article I would publish!"

Parker blushed behind her glasses. "Sorry, Avery!" she yelled back. "I meant that three hundred words aren't enough to extoll on the wonder of these gorgeous shoes!" She placed the pen-tip on the paper and drew a languid "P" before adding under her breath, "Gorgeous shoes that only stick-thin supermodels and Asian girls can even attempt to wear." Five minutes later, the paper on her desk contained nothing but "Parker Beddington" in cursive, over and over again. She had developed the habit, nay, perfected the art, of signing her name during moments of mental blockage back in college, where she had studied English, French, and Spanish literature, not fashion journalism. If one could even call an insert in the fashion section of the LA Times "journalism".

She looked down at her paper and saw that, scattered among the curly "P"s and "B"s, she had been absently drawing question marks as well. "Oh my gosh," she whispered, appalled. "I've become a living cliché!" Didn't people only do that kind of thing in movies and books? Not even good books, either! The kind she bought in secret and hid in her bedroom. The kind people called "paperbacks". The ever-dreaded Romance Novel. She had become the unwilling heroine from some crappy romance book, pondering the choices in life that had brought her here, to an unhappy job where she spent her time absent-mindedly drawing question marks on a piece of paper.

Oh, the Cleverness of Me!

2010-02-07T10:54:00.000-08:00

Do you ever read something you wrote a while ago and think, "Damn, I am friggin' clever!"?
I'm floating on a self-admiration cloud right now. It's quite pleasant. I recommend everyone find something that they have done, made, written or whatever and admire it for the beauty and cleverness that it is or represents.

Joderita's Summery Summary

2009-09-11T15:18:00.000-07:00

It has now officially been three months (and 2 days) since I graduated from university with a Bachelor's degree. I am officially a card-carrying grown-up! Even though I don't technically have a job. Or a car, house, or family of my own. But whatever, those are minor details. Here is what I do have: knowledge.

Yup, you heard me: knowledge. If you read my last blog, you know that I have plenty of knowledge (read: bitterness) about the "real world" after college. And now, I have plenty of knowledge regarding what to do with your time if all you have to your name is a useless piece of paper in a decorative leather degree-holder.

First, apply for lots of jobs. Looooots. Hundreds. Don't get your hopes up for any of them. Be patient. Do your best not to get depressed, because eventually, the right thing for you will pan out. Don't for any reason or under any circumstance read Oh the Places You'll Go by Dr. Seuss. He's not even a doctor, I don't think! (And yes, I hear you, Mom, saying in a faint whisper, "Um, but you weren't patient... In fact, I had to calm you down on several occasions and remind you that what's meant to be will be." Whatevs. This is my blog. I'll give advice that I don't follow to whomever I please. So there!) When the time is right (read: When you are starting to panic about the money you owe and people are knocking down your door collecting), you will get a second interview with the BEST company EVER, and be pretty much guaranteed by the interviewer that you have the job, it's just a matter of waiting for a new project to start. Minutes after you hang up with the BEST company EVER, you will get a job offer from a bookstore (which would be awesome, because honestly, you spent all your previous paychecks on books anyway). You will then sign on to your email at the library and be pleasantly surprised to see another job offer in your inbox. Now having three job offers (all of which you would really enjoy doing), you will not quite know what to say to some of them, and exactly what to say to others of them ("Heeelllll yes!").

Next on the list of things to do if all you have to your name is a piece of paper is read. Read lots. Read CRAZY lots. Here is a list of suggested reading, complete with the amount of depression or happiness it will provide you.

KEY:
+ Uplifting
++ Pretty Uplifting
+++ Pretty Darn Uplifting
- Depressing
-- Really Depressing
--- Really Friggin' Depressing
+- Uplifting Beginning, Depressing Ending
-+ Depressing Beginning, Uplifting Ending

++ The BFG by Roald Dahl
+- The Witches by Roald Dahl
--+ An Inconvenient Wife by Megan Chance
++ Finding Nouf by Zoe Ferraris
++ An Unsuitable Job for a Woman by P.D. James
+- Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs
---+ My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Piccoult - Most Depressing Book of the Summer
+++ Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson
++ Inkheart by Cornelia Funke
++ The Secret of Platform 13 by Eva Ibbotson
++ Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
-+-+ The Jane Austen Book Club by Karen Joy Fowler - Most Mood-Swingy Book of the Summer
--/++ The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and other short stories by F. Scott Fitzgerald
+++ Kiss of Midnight by Lara Adrian - Sexiest Book of the Summer
++ The Sookie Stackhouse series by Charlaine Harris:
Dead Until Dark
Living Dead in Dallas
Club Dead
Dead to the World
Dead as a Doornail
Definitely Dead
All Together Dead
From Dead to Worse
Dead and Gone

Oh the Places You'll Go

2009-08-06T18:17:00.000-07:00

And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.)

Kid, you’ll move mountains!
So…be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray
Or Mordecai Ale Van Allen O’Shea, you’re off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So…get on your way!

Dr. Seuss sucks. Hardcore. Stupid rhyming books about all the things you'll do with your life and stupid marketing world for deciding that it's the PERFECT graduation present!

You wanna know the places you'll go? If you already have a job while going to school, you will remain there being mostly miserable and wondering why none of the "entry-level" positions for which you are probably a bit more than qualified are only hiring people who have five and ten years of experience. How is five and ten years of experience "entry-level"? HUH?!

If you do not have a job when you graduate because the company you worked for up and went bankrupt on you three months before you graduated, then here is where you'll go. Back home to live with your parents (rent-free is nice, but honestly, didn't you have bigger plans for yourself when you were younger?) where you will spend the long long hours of the summer days applying for hundreds of jobs at places where you are way WAY WAY overqualified and yet somehow still not qualified enough to even get an interview. When you do get an interview, let's say with a car dealership for a position as a cashier/receptionist (where, let's be honest Chaplin's Volkswagen and Subaru, you do NOT need to know a single damn thing about cars), the manager who is interviewing you will act incredibly condescending and ask you a bunch of questions that couldn't possibly have anything to do with the actual job for which you are interviewing. You will then get an interview in the local mall for a job that would make you want to pull each and every hair out of your head one by one. Nevertheless needing this hair-pullingly boring job, you will give your best interview and dazzle the interviewer, who is much nicer than the jack-ass at the car dealership, and then STILL not get the friggin' job!

Growing more depressed and slightly panicked, because you owe several people money and your phone has been shut off for non-payment, you will finally FINALLY land an interview for a job for which you would be perfect and which you would actually love to get (not to mention the pay, which would be actually very good). You will be among the top five from over a hundred applicants, and you will be moderately nervous, but still confident in your prowess as the perfect person for this job. You will interview and knock their socks off, and then not hear from them for a week (which, for this particular position, is bordering on waaay too long to make a proper decision). Having your hopes deflated in such a fashion, you will start to wonder about the other crappy things in your life (which, if you're being honest with yourself, are much less horrible than other people out there, I mean at least you're not out on the streets, homeless and with nothing but the clothes on your back) and you will wonder why on earth, at 18 years old, you thought that you would have so much more done with your life at this age than you actually do. And becoming depressed about job prospects and failed life dreams will get you thinking about other things that have failed in your life, and you'll start to wonder if maybe those people back in the day who treated you like you weren't worth noticing were maybe right.

I think Dr. Seuss should be re-written:

Congratulations!
Today is your day, along with another seven hundred fifty thousand people your age!
You're off to Great Places, if you were smart enough to study computer sciences or something like that instead of one of the fine or performing arts!
If you are smarter, prettier, skinnier, craftier, cleverer, honester, cheatier, and everything else-ier, then You're off and away!

Otherwise, you're screwed, dude, and this book ain't for you.

Yay! No wait. Noooo! ...Meh?

2009-05-06T00:34:00.001-07:00

I feel like I'm on an emotional roller-coaster. Cliche, I know. But everything that's going on right now is so up-and-down.

First of all, I'm graduating in a month. And that is SOOO EXCITING! At the same time, it's terrifying and slightly depressing because 1) I will no longer have the structured living-style that school provides which I've had since I was five years old, and 2) the economic climate right now is not conducive to finding a stable, well-paying job.

I just finished my first full-length play!! I still have some minor edits to do, but it's finally done! I'm so excited, it is making me giddy! I know it will probably never be published or performed, but it is still a very proud accomplishment for me. And now that I've finished that, I might have time to work on Madelyn Gray. Which is also very exciting, because it's been a very long time since that has happened.

Today was my mid-term for one of my classes, and I'm pretty sure I did poorly. I don't think I full on failed (though I wouldn't be surprised if I did), but it's still scary that I've let myself kind of go in this class. If I don't get a C in this class, I won't graduate. Which is terrifying. This is the only class in which I am not sure I will pass with an acceptable grade. It's unnerving. And I think my teacher knows that I've got a case of Senioritis. So, now that I recognize that, I will apply myself more than I have been this quarter.

My roommate and I are doing our senior projects together, he's directing and I'm acting. I'm excited to work with him because he's a very good director, and I'm excited to sink my teeth into something (as my role in the show I just finished up was miniscule). On the other hand, we have a little less than a month to rehearse, and I'm going out of town for 7 days on Saturday. Aannnd, my adviser expressed his concern that we're cutting it too close for his liking. Even though he approved of the timeline at the beginning of the quarter. So I'm mildly freaking out about that. Yay!

My little sister is graduating from University of Southern California in a week!!! YAY!!

So yeah. I'm flip-flopping between excited (if you couldn't tell by my over-use of the word in this post) and terrified. This is not a thrilling, exhilarating roller-coaster. Unlike the roller-coasters I will be riding a week from now!

History of the Devil

2009-03-18T13:26:00.000-07:00

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth, night and day, land and sea, and he saw that they were good. Then God created the fish of the sea, and the birds of the sky, and the animals of land. And he saw that they were good. “I’m getting pretty good at this,” he thought. And he was pleased. On the sixth day of life, God created Adam from the dust, and Eve from one of Adam’s ribs. He thug-nodded at Adam and smiled at Eve and said, “’Sup?” For a while, Adam and Eve were happy in the garden God had created for them. But eventually, as with all men, Adam got bored and had a one-on-one with God. “Dude,” said God, “whaddya think of that Eve chick?”

“Meh,” said Adam. “She sorta looks like a dude.” God evaluated his creation, and nodded in agreement. “Let there be boobies,” he proclaimed, and on Eve’s chest grew a pair of perky, perfectly-sized breasts. Adam looked at Eve and then at God. “Dude,” he said. “You are awesome!” Then he ran over to Eve, who was staring down at her enlarged chest appreciatively, and said, “Our God is an awesome God!”

Then along came the serpent. Little bastard never could tell when to keep his slimy nose out of things, and one day, he convinced poor, innocent little Eve that she should try a bite of the fruit from the tree of knowledge. “It can’t be that bad, can it?” thought Eve as she sunk her teeth into the ripe and juicy fruit.

All the sudden, she felt as if an alien baby had been placed in her stomach to gestate and was now trying to claw its way out! Her back was sore, she was irrationally angry, depressed, and overjoyed, all at the same time, and what were once nice, perky, happy little breasts were now tender and achy, and the bane of her existence. They somehow became too heavy for her shoulders, chest, and upper back to deal with, and she began searching the garden for some vines or palm leaves or something to support her.

And thus was the first brassiere invented. As far back as 2500 BC (Before Coverage), women were wearing mamillare, or “breast-holders”. These corset-type contraptions were open in the front down to the waist and provided little to no actual support for any woman with above a B-cup. Because Man decided that “boobies are fun!”, these early corsets were simply for display. By 450-200 BC, the Greeks had managed to design a bodice that performed two functions: it strapped boobs in, preventing them from moving when a woman walked, and it displayed boobs pleasingly for the male eye (read: left them entirely exposed). Alas, as society grew more prudish, men decided that boobies weren’t fun anymore, and breasts were instead wrapped, flattened, or, as in the case of the mythological Amazon warrior women, brutally cut off.

In the 1600 AD (After Decidingboobswerenolongerpleasingtotheeye), some jackass, who was probably French, invented a torture device designed specifically for women. It often required having the lower two or three ribs removed, and it smooshed vital organs so much that women began fainting and even dying from it. It was called a “corset”, and later, when the fainting and dying started, they called it “consumption”. For a few centuries, men tinkered with the corset to make it show alternately more and less booby, depending on the religious fad at the time. And then, in the 1900s, someone said, “I’m tired of having to wait 10 minutes for sex while my wife is being removed of her corset. I want sex now!” And he invented a mini-corset, which went from boob to boob via the back and was supported by straps over the shoulder. Back then, a “brassiere” or “bra” (for so they were called) probably cost about 10 cents. Today, they cost anywhere from $20 to $15 million. Depending on how much money you want to spend on a piece of fabric. Covered in diamonds. That can charge an iPod.

And the moral of this story? Adam started it.

HORSES!! THEY'RE PLEASANT TO BE AROUND!!

2009-03-11T01:39:00.000-07:00

My playwriting professor told us about a guy who wrote a play entitled (with capitalization and punctuation): HORSES!! THEY'RE PLEASANT TO BE AROUND!!
It makes me laugh every time I think about it, and I'm not even sure why.

I've some money in my bank account, and so of course the first thing I do, after paying my roommate back for the rent, is take a trip to Barnes and Noble and spend something like 70 bucks on books. And by "something like 70", I mean slightly more than $70. I bought a lot of good books, though! Don't judge me!

So, here is my reading list:
Stardust, by Neil Gaiman
The Reader, by Bernhard Schlink
The Awakening and other short stories, by Kate Chopin
The BFG, by Roald Dahl
The Phantom Tollbooth, by Norton Juster
Corduroy, by Don Freeman

I am soooo disappointed to realize that the sequel to Corduroy that I purchased is not actually written OR illustrated by Don Freeman, but simply "based on the character". I feel absolutely cheated. And I might even consider returning the book and telling Barnes and Noble that it is cheating to tell someone that Corduroy Lost and Found is a sequel to Corduroy. I was already upset that they didn't have A Pocket for Corduroy, and now I'm just outraged!

Ah, well. On top of all the new books I've purchased, I have several other books that I already own that I still have to read.

Among them are:
Brisingr, by Christopher Paolini (which came out about a year ago, and I still haven't opened)
Doors Open, by Ian Rankin (which Gerry gave me last time I was at his house)
Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte (which I bought along with Brisingr nearly a year ago)
The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexandre Dumas (which I bought along with Wuthering Heights and Brisingr nearly a year ago)
Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott (which I bought along with The Count of Monte Cristo, Wuthering Heights, and Brisingr nearly a year ago)

I had better get crack-a-lackin'!

I Don't Care if You Don't Read This

2009-02-09T18:34:00.000-08:00

Warning: This post is not for entertainment. It is simply so that I can gripe and moan without making other people feel like they have to comfort me. If you don't want to read it, I will not be upset.

I'm lonely. And depressed. And tired. But mostly just the first two. Stupid winter with its stupid lack of sunlight and its stupid coldness. At least if it were summer, or even just sunny later at night, I would not be depressed. I'd still be lonely, but you can't fix all the world's hurts with sunlight!

I sort of dated a guy a couple years ago, and we were very open about sex. And even after I sort of broke up with him, we talked a lot, and a lot of our talking was about sex. It wasn't that we were obsessed with sex, really, it was just that sex is such a taboo topic that you can't really talk about it to many people without being considered inappropriate. So we talked about it with each other. Don't worry, I won't go into details. But the point is, we were flirty and fun and carefree. And I sort of felt like we were moving back toward where we were when we sort of dated. And I was happy about that, even though I sort of broke up with him.

Well, I was texting this ex-sort-of-boyfriend today, I basically said, "Come hither" in my sexiest tones, and he turned me down. And I pretended to pout and said, "Wow, I can't believe how blatantly I was just turned down for sex." And he said, "Haha, just keeping you on your toes." Whatever the hell that means. And I said, "Just keeping me depressed and confused." And he said, "I would rather not talk about sex. It's not your fault. I never said anything, I'm just trying to concentrate on other things in my life."

First of all, I know it's not my fault. I know you never said anything, otherwise I wouldn't be talking about sex right now.

Second, why is it that we as humans have to always cover what we actually mean by saying nonsensical and useless phrases? "I'm just trying to concentrate on other things in my life"? Really? A guy my age is trying not to think about sex in his life? No, what you meant to say was, "I don't want to think about sex with you, Joderita." Give it to me straight, Doc. If you're gonna hurt my feelings, just hurt them. Don't hurt them and then pretend to put a band-aid on them. Empty words make crappy medicine. Give me some honesty and a bottle of hooch and I'll be right as rain.

Which brings us to the real reason I'm depressed: I am friends with so many friggin' guys. And don't get me wrong, I love having tons of guy friends. But it gets depressing when EVERY GUY YOU KNOW only wants to be friends with you. Especially guys that you've been more than friends with. Guys you've only quasi-dated, because you can't seem to attract them beyond that initial stage. It really makes you wonder what the hell is wrong with you. Why do guys only like you as a buddy? What is missing in your personality to make you the perfect friend but nothing more? And don't give me that "You have to be confident in yourself" crap, because I've tried confident, and I'm still alone. Clearly, it does NOT work. You don't have to be confident. You have to be someone else. You have to be able to see a guy and say, "He wants intelligent, quiet, sexy, demure" whatever, and then be able to all the sudden produce the perfect combination of those things solely for his benefit. And of course, no one can change who they are in an instant, so you're left feeling hurt and inadequate.

And I am so tired of feeling inadequate. I don't want to have to wait anymore. I want someone who is looking for me to find me. I'm tired of being patient.

The Secret Garden

2009-01-08T19:57:00.000-08:00

Also, I just finished reading The Secret Garden, and it is such a good book! For girls. I mean, guys are welcome to read it, obviously, but they might not identify as much with Mistress Mary. It made me cry a few times at the end. :) I think I will rent the movie and watch it again, since I haven't seen it in years. Also, I want to read The Little Princess again, and some other books. But first, The Wizard of Oz!

She Stoops to Conquer

2009-01-08T19:27:00.000-08:00

So, the Fourteenth Day of Christmas really DID have a happier forecast. Although I did not get called-back for the play I auditioned for, I did get a role in it! So all that worry and discouragement that I didn't tell you I was feeling yesterday was all for naught.

I'm really excited for this show for several reasons. First, it proves that at least one of my professors wouldn't MIND all too much working with me. Which is a big fear of mine, since one of my professors last year told me that basically the faculty at Western hated me. I'm exaggerating only slightly for effect. Second, I really like this professor, and I'm looking forward to working with her. Third, I've wanted to work with several people in this cast for a while, and now I get to. Fourth, I get three Upper Division Credits for being in this show, which is EXCELLENT and will help me graduate that much sooner. And fifth, (if any of my sisters are reading this, they will laugh at me and say something like, "Is that all you think about, Jody?") I have had a crush on one of the guys in the cast for two years now, and I'm SO excited to work with him, even though nothing is ever going to happen between us. :D

The show is called She Stoops to Conquer, and it is by Irish playwright Oliver Goldsmith. My role is rather of the "supporting" nature, but I'm excited nonetheless. Actually, I'm fairly certain that this role will be about the same character as the last show I was in, sarcastic and drunk. So, it won't be too hard for me to do, since I did all that "method" acting for the last one. Maybe I should do a little more "research" though. Anyone wanna get drunk with me?

The Thirteenth Day of Christmas

2009-01-07T15:21:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was Epiphany, which isn't really a celebrated holiday in the US as much as Europe, but I like it and try to celebrate it, too. Epiphany allegedly represents the day that the three Wise Men or Kings or Magi and that little drummer boy found Jesus and brought him their gifts.

Most people in the US believe that the song, "The Twelve Days of Christmas" is talking about the twelve days leading up to Christmas. But it is actually the twelve days following Christmas, leading up to Epiphany. And if you think about it, it makes sense. Epiphany is the day the Wise Men brought Jesus their gifts, and "The Twelve Days of Christmas" is all about bestowing gifts.

On Christmas Eve, I was given the gift of a broken headlight. My car spun out on the freeway and I hit a guard-rail, and for a moment or two, I was facing on-coming traffic on I-5. It scared the daylights out of me. And my car. Literally. On the first day of Christmas, my car was stuck in a ditch. On the second day of Christmas, I punctured one of my tires trying to dig my car out of the ditch. On the third day of Christmas, I found out that ALL of my tires had to replaced, for which I did not have the money. On the fourth and fifth days of Christmas, I was all alone in my cold apartment in Bellingham. On the sixth day of Christmas, I partied like a rock star and got hit-on by multiple older gents. On the ninth day of Christmas, I partied again like a rock star and got hit-on by multiple younger gents who were too drunk to walk, and just drunk enough to try to stick their hands down my shirt. On the eleventh day of Christmas, I forgot about an audition. On the twelfth day, I remembered the audition and made it to the second night of auditions. On the thirteenth day of Christmas, I found out I did not get called back, even though several less-talented people did (and yes, I know how vain that sounds. I feel entitled to vanity once in a while, since I so very seldom use it.)

The fourteenth day of Christmas has a slightly happier forecast. It will be pay-day, and I won't have the disappointment of not getting called-back looming over me all day. Anybody wanna celebrate with me the day following the day after the Magi found Jesus? What is myrrh anyway? It sounds like it could be a pretty tasty drink!

Obama Rama fo yo Mama!

2008-11-04T21:21:00.000-08:00

Today is a good day. I got a new job, and so did Barack Obama! My mom voted (for the first time possibly in forever), and tomorrow is 1) the day before my birthday, and 2) Guy Fawkes Day, my favorite British holiday (though I suppose it's not really a fair competition, since that's the only British holiday I know of)!!

My roommate and our friend are in Seattle at the Democratic Party, a play on words and also, a party of enormous joy tonight. I feel kind of left out, since neither of them deigned to invite me, but oh well. Whaddaryagonnado? I really shouldn't feel jilted, since they don't invite me to nearly anything. Even though I invite both of them to everything. Oh well. Some people are just very inconsiderate.

Back to the happy! Job! Barack! Civic duty! Birthday! Guy Fawkes! Woo! Maybe I'll go buy some fireworks tomorrow (I'm surrounded by Indian Reservations) and shoot them off in honor of the good sir. And I'll wear a white mask and black wig and call myself J for Joderita, and say, "Remember, remember the 5th of November."

Shout out to my Aunt C, who sent me a really cute birthday card (I love puppies!!!) and let me know she reads my blog!

Election Day!

2008-10-22T23:53:00.000-07:00

It's that time of year again; the leaves are changing colors, people are bundling up warmer, and everybody who's anybody is thinking, "Gee. What should I get Jody for her birthday?" That's right, it's Election time again! The time when people celebrate my birth by voting for the candidate that best represents their points of view. Who could ask for a more democratic, patriotic birthday gift than huge arguments over gay marriage, taxes, abortion, land preservation, and who is more irritating or more attractive or more amiable?

When I was just a wee lass of two or three hours, I had the opportunity to star in my very own movie.

Okay, it was less of a movie and more of a news special on the first people in King County or Washington or maybe even The World! to vote for US President from the hospital. And it was less about me and more about my mom. But whatever. Details.

My mom had the opportunity to get my tiny little baby foot in the door to the acting world, and she said, "No!" because they wouldn't let her do her hair and make-up. Does that not just epitomize the essence of my mother? I would be a movie star now, living off the fat of the land/my amazingly amazing talents if it weren't for her.

I mean, in her defense, she had just given birth. So she was all sweaty and red and undone. But still. I could be famous. *sniff*

So Much Crying, So Little Time

2008-09-11T01:56:00.000-07:00

After crying about something as un-cryable as being paid for two weeks of doing whatever the hell I want, here, truly, is something to cry about.

My oldest and most beloved childhood posession is a fluffy, white stuffed dog. I don't remember how or why, but for some reason, he has two names, both very fitting. Most often, I refer to him as White-White, because of the white fur covering his body. Sometimes, and mostly only when I'm properly introducing him to people, I also call him Fluffy, because he is very fluffy. I was a very creative child. Don't tell my other childhood toys this, but I love White-White the most. I have taken him with me everywhere I've gone, including summer camps, France, and even college. Tonight, White-White suffered a very serious injury. I've had him for over 20 years, so in doggy years, he is well over 140 years old. Tonight, I found him curled up next to the electric heater in my room, and I don't think he noticed until I pulled him away from the heat that he was, in fact, burning his fur.

You are probably thinking, "He's 20 human years old, he's probably suffered injuries more detrimental than that. He is, after all, Joderita's dog. Joderita is not the cleanest person, and was probably one of the dirtier children in the world. He probably hasn't survived the tests of time well anyway."

You would be wrong in thinking that. For the last twenty years, I have kept him immaculately clean. After all, I love him the most. I want him to survive as long as I do. I want to give him to my children so that they, too, can give him multiple names. This is why it upset me so much to see that his fur had been singed beyond hope of repair tonight. Sure, I can give him a haircut. But come on, people! He's a friggin' stuffed dog! That hair ain't never growing back! Which means he's stuck for eternity, looking like this:

This is very upsetting. I cannot believe I've kept him in prestine condition for 23 years, just to have this happen. I feel like a huge part of my heart and childhood have just melted away. Cheesy sounding, I know. But imagine that, one day, Christopher Robin came home and Pooh Bear had been melted across the belly. Imagine the Velveteen Rabbit and the boy lived happily together until the boy's 24th birthday, when a freak accident caused the boy's hand to slip as he was chopping carrots, and the knife came slicing down on the Velveteen Rabbit's nose. How upset would that boy be?

Semi-Ah-Fuck Your Faces!

2008-09-10T20:14:00.000-07:00

I suppose it's time for an update. Although that's so uninteresting. :( wood_song's blogs are always funny and intriguing and insightful, and mine are always updates. Blah blah blah. Oh well.

I was working at Semiahmoo Golf Resort and Spa, but I put in my two weeks' notice today, thinking, "Oh, I'll try to find another job in the next two weeks, and then school will start and I won't have to drive so far to work." I guess my manager didn't like being called unprofessional, and the woman in HR didn't like being called an indiscrete gossip. I was just about to finish everything up at the end of my shift today when my manager said, "I need to talk to you in my office." I accompanied him to his office with a sensation in my stomach much like the one I used to get when I knew my parents were about to find the hole that I melted into the couch's upholstery. But I went nevertheless.

I sat down and he said to me, "I got your resignation. Blah blah blah cover my ass blah blah blah. So here's what's going to happen. You don't have to come in for the next two weeks, we're going to pay you for it anyway. Hap here from security is going to see that you get all your things and then take you to your car."

I have never seen Hap escort anyone from the premises. I have never seen ANY of our security guards escort anyone from the premises, and I work in a bar, where people get drunk and threaten to beat bartenders or supervisors up. So they won't escort beligerent drunks from the premises, but they'll see that I make it to my car without stealing... what? A few pens? A notepad? Heaven forbid, a travel-sized bottle of shampoo?!

Ridiculous. It never crossed my mind to steal from them or act angry with customers in the coming two weeks. Until they treated me like a criminal. Now all I want to do is sneak in and steal... hmm... what do they have of value to me? Ummmmm.......... oh right, fuck all! There is not a single piece of shit in that entire hotel that is worth enough for me to even consider stealing. And it's a HOTEL! People pay by charging it to their ROOMS!! There's no way to steal anything from a room charge. *le sigh* Fuckin' idiots.

Oh well. On to bigger and better things. Like Pub Quiz tomorrow! And school in two weeks! Yay!

Ode to a Flutterby

2008-08-18T00:16:00.000-07:00

I should be sleeping, I suppose, but I took some meds for a killer headache I've had the past few days, and it's made me so sleepy that I can't even move the three feet from my desk to my bed. Oh well. I'll be Facebook-stalking for a couple hours tonight.

I miss my little butterfly.

You got to leave me now, you gotta go alone
You gotta chase a dream, one that's all your own
Before it slips away
When you're flying high, take my heart along
I'll be the harmony to every lonely song
That you'll learn to play

I know the sky is calling; Angel, let me help you with your wings
When you're soaring through the air, I'll be your solid ground
Take every chance you dare, I'll still be there
When you come back down

Adopt-a-Lock

2008-07-17T18:24:00.000-07:00

http://adoptalock.blogspot.com/2008/07/email-synopsis.html

This is awesome!

Schoolio

2008-06-16T15:25:00.000-07:00

It's that time of year again when the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and every student across the nation is trying to find ways to fill the hours of the day that they normally spend couped up in class.

I am a student; it is summertime. I am therefore performing my annual ritual of wasting the beautiful sunshine outside by laying around in my pyjamas inside, watching TV, surfing the Web, or praying that sleep will take me on a more entertaining journey.

This year is a little different than years passed, however. This summer is my last summer as an undergrad. That's right. If all goes well in the coming school year, I will be a graduate of Western Washington University, with a degree in Theatre, Acting and Dramatic Writing. As the end of my required schooling approaches, I find myself caught between a rock and a hard place. Do I want to apply to grad schools, like two of my wonderful sisters have done, and continue schooling for the REST OF MY FREAKIN' LIFE! or do I want to live as the poorest of the poor, and apply for internships at theatres across the nation, working two jobs whose combined pay reaches minimum wage, if that?

Oh, the age old dilemma. I must say, I am inspired by my sisters' example. Becky received her Masters in teaching, and has been working as a teacher for a crazy bitch of a principal at a private school, and is now looking for a new job, which I pray she will be offered before the summer is out. Karen is moving to London (and I am so jealous) where she will be earning her Masters in... science of some sort, while trying to live on financial aid in an eeetty bitty living space.

Despite my pessimism, I am very inspired by them. So I am, in an effort to keep my summer routine unaltered, surfing the Web for appropriate graduate programs. So far, I have found one that I like. It's in Hawai'i, so I'd of course be requiring my friends to visit me at school every summer. And spring. And heck, any other time the weather is bad in Washington, which is always. I'm also looking in London, New York, California, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and any place that may possibly offer me a full-ride scholarship. :D

Commence Fetal-Position Crying

2008-05-02T22:47:00.000-07:00

I didn't get called back for the NY/Brit tour. :(

Eek!

2008-05-01T20:11:00.000-07:00

I am so nervous for tomorrow. NERVOUS! I have an audition for the NY/Brit tour tomorrow evening, for which I feel fairly well prepared, but still! And before the audition, I have an interview at a bank! AH! I need the job, like DESPERATELY, and I need to be on that tour even more! My life is in the balance here, and it all comes down to tomorrow. TOMORROW!! Ugh. I don't even care about the bank job if I can get into the tour. I know that sounds horrible and irresponsible, but seriously. Look at me. When I finish school (if I ever finish school), I will have a degree in Theatre Arts. I'm not exactly on the road to becoming a big bank exec.

That's not to say that I can't add and subtract with the best of them. Indeed not, as I've always excelled in maths at school. I just don't give a shit about it is the problem. Who cares what the tangent to the curve is or what the quadratic formula solves? Not me, that's for damn certain. Show me an equation that will increase my chances at getting into the NY/Brit tour, though, and I'm there, TI-83 in hand and pencil behind my ear.

But it does make me wonder. Why would God give me a brain that was adept with all things technical and mathematical and a heart that longed to be on stage? I'm such a collection of contradictions, and I think that's why I was such a troublesome child. In tenth grade, I wanted to go to the Art Institute to learn to be a chef. In eleventh, I wanted to take a special course at my school to become a nurse. Twelfth grade I saw myself becoming a landscape designer. Last quarter I wanted to be a publisher. And all the while I dreamt of being on stage; of moving around the world; of raising a family and being a housewife. And this quarter, I want to be a literary manager for a theatre somewhere. I know that this is where I want to go with my life. Just like I knew so many times before that I was destined to become those other things.

Although, this time, I'm pretty sure it's gonna stick. It combines my passion for theatre with my naturally cynical nature (my professor told me I should become a theatre critic, blech!) and my great love of literature. And I can eventually have a family, and not have to quit my job because actors don't get paid shit. And I can cook and take care of my family and work in the garden on weekends, which covers chef, nurse, and landscaper!

Now if I could just get into this NY/Brit tour, I'd be traveling the world, too.

Friggin' Facebook

2008-04-16T00:45:00.000-07:00

Since it's after midnight, I feel I can post again, it not being twice in one day, literally speaking. So there. :P

Um. I need to go to England. More specifically, I will be auditioning for the New York/British Tour, which is a new program up here at good ol' Dub Dub U, and I need to be cast. This year, we had the British tour, which went to (surprise) Great Britain over Spring Break. And I've been Facebook-stalking people and looking through all the photos of the tour and getting very, VERY jealous. If I don't get in, I am not spending money on ANYTHING for a year, or until I can save up enough money to go to England. There are few places that I feel I MUST at ALL COSTS visit before I die. Among the toppety top are New York and England. I've already been to England, so I suppose I can die half happy. But how AWESOMELY AMAZING would it be to perform in England on a freaking theatre tour?!

So awesomely amazing that you don't even know words big enough to describe it. I think the only thing that could top performing in New York and England would be to go to Ireland with Gerry and Linda. Or to marry Christian Bale. Other than those two things, performing in New York and England wins.

Here's the dealio. The professor of dramatic writing at WWU is actually pretty deep in the playwriting world. He has written many a play, most of which you have probably never heard, but many nonetheless. He is a very big supporter of new playwrights, and as such, has co-produced a book called "NorthNorthwest", which is a compilation of short plays written by Pacific Northwest writers. This year's British tour performed these plays for audiences in England. Amazing. Next year, the tour will be performing a play that is actually a collection of shorter plays, one for each decade of the 20th century. It is aptly named "The 20th Century", and it is co-written by Brian Willis.

I'm not sure I can adequately express for you, dear reader, how much I want to get into this tour. So much. SO MUCH. I would almost offer my first-born, but I don't think Christian Bale would be too happy with me promising his first-born as collateral.

To top off my envy of all people who have experienced England for more than the broke five days I spent in London, my older sister K-Rock is friggin' MOVING there in September to LIVE there whilst she attends Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Tropical Medicine. Color me jealous. It does not help even a little bit that the show I just finished up was British. It's like kicking me while I'm down. *sob* If I don't get to go to England I'll die! I want to go! NOW!!! *commence tantrum worthy of Veruca Salt*

Veruca Salt is from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Which is by Roald Dahl. Who is from the UK. *sniff* WAAAAAAHHH!!!!!!

:D

Oh great. Fine.

2008-04-15T21:16:00.001-07:00

I just finished up a show at school, and while I was all for the show being over while I was in it (it was rather a hectic run), I miss it now that it's actually over. Let's go over some of the highlights, shall we?

10. My dad didn't go because one part of the show was "kinda gross" (it lasted about eight seconds and was forgotten even more quickly). Boo!
9. My roommate was Assistant Director, and is basically responsible for the good parts of the show. Yay!
8. The actual Director was crazy and didn't heed the warnings of the actors or the Assistant Director, thereby making her responsible for basically all the bad parts of the show. Boo!
7. My friends all came up and saw it. Yay!
6. My sisters all came up and saw it. Yay!
5. I went out for an afternoon snacky with my oldest sister and her hubby after the show. Yay!
4. My mom came up and saw it, and then my friends, my mom, and one of my sisters all went out after the show and got wa-hasted. Yay!
3. I'm sort of a big deal. Yay!
The real 3. The Set Designer sucked ASS and created a stage which confused both actor and audience member alike. Boo!
2. It was the first show I've been in for a year. Yay for the show, Boo for it having been a year since I was last in one!
And the very highest highlight of the show:
On Saturday night, I had a migraine so bad that I was dizzy and nauseous on stage, and vomitated (as the 7-year-old boy I used to nanny said) every time I went off stage, but several members of the audience and my co-stars said that you couldn't even tell I was a little ill. YAY! And that's only a partially sarcastic "Yay". :)

Now that it's over with, I have much more time on my hands. More time to sit around and do nothing all day. Oh great. Fine. Like I needed more time for that.

I need a job. And a good fuck. Seriously.

Dude, I Totally AM a Genius!

2008-02-09T20:28:00.000-08:00

Or "I was right, it was Mrs. White in the Study with the Revolver"

So, as I posted before, I have amazing sleuthing abilities. My mother doubted me, and posted a blog with a bunch of smileys that were supposed to be a hidden message. I deciphered it in under 15 minutes, while writing a term paper AND despite the fact that the format of her post hid half of the smileys.

My mom is reading a murder-mystery now, and she's nearly to the end of the book. She has just found out, along with the main character of the book, who the murderer is. Today, I picked it up and read the first five or so pages. As she was coming out of the bath tonight, she said, "I'm almost done with my book!"

I said, "Is it the therapist?"

She stuttered. "What?" she asked.

"The therapist is the murderer, right?" I said.

"WHAT?!" she shrieked, and then stuttered on, "I'm-I'm not going to tell you! You're reading this book, too?"

"I read the first five pages earlier," I said. Pause. "It is, isn't it?"

"Wha-How did you KNOW!?? I just found out now!"

I am a freakin' genius. I should go into profiling or the FBI or Mensa or something. Veronica Mars, move over. There's a new Dick Tracy in town.

Hmm, what should my detective name be?

Hoooooooooooooh my GOSH!!!!

2008-01-31T22:16:00.001-08:00

Okay, so. Last Saturday, I went to a party at my good friend's house and, well, got completely wasted. Sooo wasted, in fact, that when I got home, I apparently crawled out of my bedroom and into the living room whispering, "I can't stand up. I can't stand up!" Three seconds later, I stood up. Needless to say, I only vaguely remember that. But what I doooooo remember is logging onto amazon.com the second I got home and buying what will probably go down in history as being the best and most awesomest purchase in the history of history. I bought Volumes 1 and 2 of two of the most amazing and wonderful television shows ever. The first, Darkwing Duck.

I know. You do not have to tell me how awesome that is. Mainly because the second television show BLOWS DW out of the water. Er, the sky, I suppose. I bought. Chip n' Dale: Rescue Rangers.

I now own the two best kid's shows of ALL TIME. And don't worry. It's okay to be jealous.

I so CALLED it!!

2008-01-20T21:33:00.001-08:00

Man, I love being right. Sometimes, I think I should be a detective. But then I remember that the crimes I'm solving are either on TV, in movies, or in books. But seriously. As a kid, I read the detective stories of Encyclopedia Brown, and I totally kicked his butt. Granted, those books were written for children, but whatever. I still won. When I read The Da Vinci Code, I was always two steps ahead of Robert Langdon. I solved all the little riddles, and long before Robby-dear even got close to solving them. When I watch mysteries on TV or in movies, I like to guess the endings, and I am very often right. Again, granted these are (mostly) American films and shows for American audiences, so it can't really be said that it takes any real genius to figure them out. But still. My sleuthing abilities/deductive reasoning is AWESOME. Recently, I have gotten into watching the Showtime series Dexter, about a serial killer who only kills other killers. Season One revolves around a serial killer who freezes his victims before draining their blood and then chopping them up into incredibly tidy little pieces. He is aptly named the Ice Truck Killer. No one in the show has any idea who he is. This afternoon, I said to Danny, "I have a prediction. I think the Ice Truck Killer is So-and-so." And I watched a few more episodes, and at the end of the last one I watched, they showed So-and-so in his humble abode, and he is SO the Ice Truck Killer! He has proof of it all around his apartment. He even has a walk-in freezer!

Man, sometimes the amount of ass I kick surprises me. :) Now if only I could figure out why my external hard drive won't connect to my computer, I'd be happy.

Exciting News!

2008-01-04T23:18:00.000-08:00

Okay, I lied. This post is not going to be that exciting. I'm sorry. But I'm excited! So you should be too. :P

This quarter up at good ol' Dub Dub U, I am taking some exciting steps toward furthering my career! "What career?" you ask. You might also say, "Jeez, Joderita. Did you just us some form of 'excite' four times (five including this sentence) in one post?" These are very good questions. The answer to the second is "Yes". The answer to the first is "Who on God's green earth knows?!" But based on my course-load this quarter, it's going to be an exciting career, let me tell you. (That's six, and counting.)

I'm taking two journalism courses and two theatre courses. School doesn't technically start for me until sometime next week (I'll look into the actual start date sometime tomorrow), and already I've received eight e-mails from the editors of the school newspaper, for which I will be writing this quarter. Eight. In one day. Before school has even started. Yikes! And here is why I KNOW it's going to be such an exciting quarter: Sarah, editor of the News section, told me that she wrote for one section of the paper per quarter, which really allowed her to, and this is a direct quote, "build a relationship with me editor".

And therein lies the reason for my deep hatred of all university newspapers. The editor of the newspaper cannot even edit her own words. Last time I checked, "me" was an objective pronoun, not a possessive pronoun. But more than the technical aspect, "me editor" just does not sound good. This does not inspire confidence. But hey, I should give her a chance, yeah? Maybe she is from Jamaica. Or somewhere proper English is not spoken. I dunno. And in the tips they sent all us newbies, they actually had to tell us not to use the word "irregardless". Um, what? Do published writers really USE that word? And I use the term "word" very loosely here. According to dictionary.reference.com, "it has been considered a blunder for decades and will probably continue to be so." Thank the LORD! I'm not gonna accept nothing that sounds so very uneducated.

So why am I so excited? Because irregardless of the depressing lack of grammatical correctness in university journalism, I could get published! For real! In a REAL newspaper! Even if it is a newspaper I would never pay money to read. :D I'm so excited! Though, I will admit, I'm not excited to limit my use of smilies. I guess editors don't get too excited for emoticons.

That's 11 times in one post. :)

Interesting...

2007-12-04T23:05:00.000-08:00

I have this feeling, like I should be really upset with the world and depressed and all that good stuff, but for some reason, I'm not. I'm kind of at peace with everything, even though it's all in a very precarious situation. How very odd.

(Where's the "deep, guttural, agonized scream" character on my keyboard?)

2007-11-11T23:06:00.000-08:00

Why why WHY are guys so goddamn stupid? I'm so disappointed and frustrated and angry at nothing and confused. I don't even know what to say. I just want someone to talk at me. I don't want to say anything, I just want a distraction. :(

The streets you're walking on
A thousand houses long
Well, that's where I belong
And you belong with me

I was told that my outlook in this whole stupid fucking situation was very mature and something to be proud of. While I appreciate the truth of that statement, I do not feel mature. I feel like kicking someone. Or throwing a rock at something that will make a very loud and satisfying noise. Instead, I'll listen to my iPod and the sound of the huge wind outside.

Where are you?
Did you leave me unbreakable?
Did you leave frozen?
I’ve never felt so cold
I thought you were silent
And I thought you left me
For the wreckage and the waste
On an empty beach of faith
Was it true?
‘Cause I
I got a question
I got a question
Where are you?

Yes, I realize the opening paragraph of this post was a very broad generalization. And for those of you guys out there that are not so goddamn stupid, I apologize. Wanna get a drink together?

The Road Trip to End All Road Trips

2007-10-07T00:53:00.000-07:00

Okay, not really. But here are some highlights from my road trip with my mom this summer.

Mom and me at Sea World, carrying huge amounts of stuffed animals
we won playing carnival games

Milk: It does a body good

Why she wanted to take a picture of me while I was driving, we may never know

Did anybody NOT know I have a thing for handcuffs?

Me and Sulley, who is not a soft as he looks on screen

Mom and me at California Adventure

Waiting in line for the roller coaster, California Screamin'

Apparently, you can swap your kids for other stuff and/or kids at Sea World

Me, winning ridiculous amounts of stuffed animals at California Adventure

Mom's new boyfriend...

Giovanni, my second cousin. I think.

Mom climbing the giant lego

Me being too lazy to climb the giant lego

Mr. Incredible and me. I think I look stronger than he does.

The beautious doggies in their first frolic at the beach

This is where my driving LITERALLY scared the crap out of Sable

The token San Francisco shot: The Golden Gate Bridge in fog

An artistic shot of my adorable Converse All-Stars. In a bathroom.

A random artistic shot of my sandals and the directions to my uncle's cabin in Big Bear, CA

A super-cool sand-surfer

The dogs all sandified

The irony of this sign is, of course, that we were in the Redwood Forest.
Where all the trees are "big trees"

The Wienermobile!! "Oh I wish I was an Oscar Mayer wiener..."

Oops! I drove through a tree

Mom trying to sled down a sand dune on her wool sweater...
Hahaha!

Me clinging to the ledge of a cliff while my mom takes her time with this photo

And there you have it. Oregon and California, in a nutshell.

Holy Crap Lion Tours!

2007-08-20T23:51:00.000-07:00

Forget Norway.

If Easy It Were, Needed You Would Not Be

2007-08-11T14:16:00.000-07:00

Me as Darth Maul

Master Mo'ric as Jengo Fett

Master My'fra as Senator Palpatine

Who said training children to be Jedi was easy?

Things That Make Joderita Happy

2007-07-15T15:37:00.001-07:00

1. Finding fifty-dollar checks in your wallet that you didn't even realize you had.

2. When school randomly sends your housing deposit back and they haven't subtracted anything from the original total of 200 bucks.

3. Getting wasted in public with your little sister and a bunch of friends.

4. Dancing on a table-top in public with your little sister.

5. Linda's karaoke voice.

6. Gerry's karaoke voice and amazing lyrics. Even the ones about killing people.

7. Potato cakes at the Redmond Family Pancake House.

8. Starting a new job that is SUPER amazing.

And Also...

2007-07-11T16:16:00.000-07:00

My friend showed me this site a while ago, but I thought I should share it with all the lovely people out in Bloggerland (aka, my mom and Gerry). It's called TV-Links and it allows you to watch a great multitude of television shows, both old and new, for free. And for many of the new ones, the episodes are out even before the season has finished and they've been released on DVD. They also have music videos, movies, documentaries, and cartoons.

Okay, okay, I know what you're thinking. "Joderita, isn't this kind of illegal?" To that I would say, "Yes, probably." But the thing is, it's a British website, and they don't have the same copyright laws across the pond as we do here, so... Okay, it's still probably illegal. But the American government can't do anything about it. And that's half the fun! :) Enjoy! I'm off to watch an episode of Veronica Mars, Season 3 and maybe a little Nacho Libre. :)

Just So's Y'All Know

2007-07-10T21:35:00.000-07:00

I'll be the first to admit when I'm wrong. Whoever said that the latest James Bond did not, in fact, have any naked women in the opening credits was correct, and I was wrong. There.

A Jedi Master I Will Soon Be

2007-06-26T17:14:00.000-07:00

That's right, folks. I had my first meeting today with the supervisor of my new summer job. In case you haven't heard, I will be schooling children in the ways of the Jedi this July and August. And today, I learned what exactly that means.

We will be making lightsabers, playing Capture the Wookie Pelt (I got a good three minutes of laughter out of this one), making the little ugly rat-tail braids for all of the Padawans (or Jedi apprentices), and having Pod races, among other things. We will also be taking a field trip to the Science Fiction museum, which I didn't even know existed.

The supervisor told me that the kids sometimes get into arguments about Star Wars facts. I guess I'd better go watch them again, just to brush up...

Speed Bumps and Bra Straps

2007-06-22T01:49:00.001-07:00

What I've learned from Pub Quiz Night:

1. I can unstrap any woman's bra faster than most straight guys. If only boobs did it for me.

2. Nicole Kidman was born in Hawai'i, and not Australia like most would think.

3. Gerry's really real name is Gerard, but we Americans are too stupid to pronounce it correctly, so he goes by Gerry. Or Speed Bump, if you get him in the right mood.

4. To get one Gerard Martin Patrick Tierney in "the right mood", you have to get him drunk. Even then, he still can't unstrap my bra.

5. Leaving a dog who likes to chew things alone in the house for six and a half hours is not a good idea. Even if you buy that dog a toy that is made specifically for chewing and try to coax her to chew it instead of the throw pillows or the curtains.

6. Putting a Styrofoam container of cheese fries in the microwave for 45 seconds will melt the Styrofoam and change the once delicious fries into deadly delicious fries.

7. The leftover, unpopped kernels that inevitably find their way into the bowl of popcorn provide at least thirty minutes of good, clean entertainment, and ten consecutive minutes of good, dirty entertainment.

Stay tuned next week for "What I've learned from Gerry's older brother".

Jeez

2007-06-20T19:19:00.000-07:00

Me in the snow in Glasgow

I probably have about two hundred different blogs. Which I rarely update. Oh well. Now I have two hundred one. :)