Apologies.

You are cordially invited, originally uploaded by cgines.

New post coming soon.

Hope you are all finding lots of lovely in your day.

High-Five!!!

Once upon a time, I made stuff. See:

I was three when this was made. I am pretty sure my dad may have assisted me with this, but let's not give him too much credit, okay?

Last year, I was lucky enough to participate in the CreateADay project. It started as a group of strangers with a new year's resolution to make something every day. Very quickly, bonds were formed and the group became an inspirational give and take. The most recent version of this project is EverydayCreate. I am embarassed to admit, I just submitted my first post this year. Yikes. It involves humiliating the dog and I am very proud to say, my dad didn't help me with it one bit.

Art-O-Matic

Here is something that will get you thinking you are wasting your life away trying to decipher LOST and dressing your dog up like Big Gay Al.

Robayre has made a video! She's also painted a series of miniature canvases featured in the video. And amazingly enough, the paintings are based on miniature collages she created (which you can see more of here and here). Check it out:



If you go to the Art-O-Mat sight they will tell you if you have one in your town. Sacramento people can go to the good ole Crocker Museum (see tangent below). And it looks like Oklahoma has one, so I am thinking I will investigate this over the weekend and perhaps bring a crowbar to "inspect" the machine for any Robayre originals.

***The Crocker is FREE on Sundays before noon. So let's say maybe you had too much wine Saturday night and maybe you only live several blocks away from the Crocker and maybe you only got a few bucks in your pocket and maybe you are thinking it is best if you just stay in bed. Don't do it! Call a friend, get thee to the coffee shop, get a hot beverage of your choice and walk to the museum. This is not just a great hangover cure, but is also the outline for one of my favorite Sundays ever.

I'll sing these songs in a box with a fox or in a house with a mouse

On a road trip, my ex-boyfriend asks me not so delicately to please STOP singing along with the radio. At the time, I find this confusing. What does a sense of pitch or melody or tone have to do with a passionate delivery of lyrics that really speak to you? Shouldn't he recognize that I am carefree and full of joie de vivre and find me endearing for it? I have since heard myself sing and must say that no amount of performance ability can protect human ears from the noise I can create when I am "feeling it". My bad, dude. But you never did get me anyway. The song that I couldn't keep myself from singing that weekend was Ben Harper's "Save Tonight". Whenever it comes on the radio, I crank it up. "Tomorrow I'll be gone......."

Letterbox by They Might Be Giants

This song is super short, but you have to sing it really fast. "And I'll never never know, what you never never never want to know, when you know

What you are, oooooooooooooo."

Laid by James

This song is drrrty with lots of smarty pants lyrics. Saw these guys in concert, so I feel like I have a little bit of hands on experience on the delivery.

Mama Said Knock You Out by LL Cool J

Rap songs are a bad singers best friend! They are usually fairly monotone or often use funny voices. I would also sing almost anything from Cypress Hill or Beastie Boys.

Plinky. Hope it's not Stinky.

A friend invited me to join Plinky, so I did. I am still not sure exactly what Plinky is or how it works, but it looks like a great tool for someone like me who has gotten out of the habit of blogging.

Every day, a different topic is presented and you write a little blurb about it. And apparently you can publish the blurb to your blog or Twitter or Facebook from Plinky. And apparently they will add some funky clip art to the blurb for you. And apparently you follow other Plinky people and they follow you. Actually, none of this is very apparent to me at the moment. But I am going to give it a shot, so if you see some posts that just look like a bunch of jibber-jabber, than that is what is happening. That or my chimpanzee roommate has clubbed me in the head and taken over sheasytime (he is extremely shifty that one).

I'm eager to see what clip art they randomly select to accompany my blurbs. Cheesy clip art is a guilty pleasure, so my expectation is that it will elevate my blurbs to true greatness. The other plus: you guys will get a break from pictures of my dog. Ha ha.... just kidding! Doggy post coming soon!!

On the left, you might notice that I am on Twitter and I have it all synced up to Facebook. If you find me on either of those, add me as your friend or follower or stalker or whatevs.

I must be honest and say I am really only interested in "friends" who have "follower"-like personalities. My ultimate goal is to surround myself with people I can easily sway to do my bidding. So, go: add me to all of your apps and then give me all of your Jolly Ranchers.

Told-Ya-So Dance

I took this picture on February 8th, 2008 (almost a year ago--sheesh!) on my way home from work:

At the time, the other Democrat was way ahead in the race for the nomination.

I was ruffling through my purse for the camera, steering with my knees, trying to concoct an endearing anecdote to share with this guy in the event I turned his bumper into the shape of a fortune cookie, all the while I kept thinking to myself, "This guy, driving right in front of me, is gonna make it happen."

And he did! Of course, he didn't do it by himself. But Mr. Honda Accord stood in line at the DMV and ordered a personalized plate with the name of the trailing Democratic nominee on it, knowing his registration would not be up until May of 2009. He believed it could be so at a time when many of us were still swelling up with inspiration and hoping it could be a possibility. This guy believed it and when I saw this license plate, I believed it, too.

So, thank you, Mr. Honda Accord. You've earned yourself a free car wash and big hug from the rest of the planet.

Pilates for Your Pointy Finger

Recently, I got severely inebriated only to discover the next day I could not find my cell phone. To reward myself for achieving such an extreme level of drunkenness, I went straight to my local wireless store and bought me a brand spanking new phone. Now it turns out my old phone wasn't lost, it was simply misplaced. However, I had my little hungover heart set on getting a new phone so that is where the story begins.

I had no idea what type of phone I wanted, but the kind, young sales gal showed me one that had a touch screen and came with a rebate and blah, blah, blah, sales pitch, blah, blah, blah: SOLD. Let's just get this over with so I can go home and sweat out these cocktails.

I love my new phone. It is awesome in so many ways. I have been sending a steadily increasing number of pointless text messages much to the horror of family and friends who could care less that I just got my car washed or that I can't find a pair of matching socks.

I want to make it abundantly clear just how much I adore my phone before I mention this next item for those of you considering buying a touch phone. You should ask yourself a question and be very, very honest with yourself. Do you have, ahem, "physically fit" fingers? Because up until now, I've always considered my fingers to fall within the national standard for normal size digits. Tapping away on my new phone, I feel a bit as if I have Chewbacca mitts. I'm not sure if Wookies have fingers or paws, but Chewie seems far more savvy at flying the Millenium Falcon than I am at checking my voicemail.

So the previously mentioned pointless texts aren't just dull and drab, they are often nonsensical and riddled with typos. Not to mention making sure that I send the text to the right person. I sent a text to my friend Michelle about Battlestar Galactica only to get a response from Michael reminding me that I am an uber-nerd. Nice.

Even better are the times I get a little tap-happy while deleting messages and I end up dialing that person on accident. So I hang up. Twice. Or three times. Leading to the inevitable incoming call from that party asking me why I am a being a jerkface. To which I can only reply, "God made me this way."

I love my phone and I have banana hands. Deal with it.

New 'Do

Got my hair cut today. Behold, the awesome pony wallpaper in the background.

Because It's Purty

Last year, I made it well into March before the urge to take down the Christmas tree hit me. This year I have decided it will stay at least through January or until I receive an official letter of complaint from the Easter Bunny.

Also, after some encouragement from some of may favorite bloggie friends, I've decided to again participate NaBloPoMo this month. 31 posts in 31 days! Here goes.

It Also Keeps Your Cheese Safe

Today a friend told me my Christmas card picture has made it onto her fridge. Oh, joy of joys, she has no idea that she has just made my day.

I have used the front of my fridge as something of an inspiration board ever since college. Many of the items have travelled from one crappy apartment to the next, reminding me to smile all while guarding the precious vodka.

The oldest item is a gingerbread self-portrait I painted of me wearing a Beastie Boys T-Shirt and ADIDAS shoes that you will still catch me wearing just about every Sunday.

Here is a glimpse:

So glad to be part of your day, even if it is just the moments before you grab the milk or realize you are better off ordering a pizza.