Thursday, January 31, 2008

Iron Maidens of Honor

Jen had a dream about our friend, Schaa's wedding. Here's the rundown she gave:

"It was Schaa's wedding day and everyone was packing into the church (possibly an auditorium). I was sitting in the front row and there was a stage. When the wedding started I saw Schaa in between the stage and the sound equipment…then she just hopped up on stage while Brant (who had long dark hair in a pony tail) used the side stairs and rock music started blaring. The entire wedding party was rocking out on stage! Schaa was really getting into it (kind of head-bang dancing) then Brant would come over and they’d waltz for a bit to the music. The best part was the singing (it was a musical). Everyone was singing about their favorite potato-chocolate. Brant’s was white chocolate sea shells. Then everyone asked what kind of chocolate and he said “it’s whiiiite chocolaaaate”. The maid of honor didn’t know the name of her chocolate, but it was "perfect as God made it". Of course everything rhymed…but I don’t remember the words exactly."

This led to the following e-mail exchange:

Jen: I think I want my wedding to be a musical…how funny would that be?
Tanya: I could help design fabulous costumes and a set that rotates!
me: I will do invitations that are like tickets, so the ushers have to tear them as people arrive and there can be a VIP area and a mosh pit. Beers will be $10.
Jen: That would be so cool! I really like the rotating stage and ticket invitations. Now I just need to start on the lyrics...and hire someone to choreograph a dance for the wedding party.
me: I think you should have that Brazilian dance [beadanza] at your wedding – save some money on choreography and get everybody involved at the same time.
Jen: I’m imagining everyone holding hands in a circle and dancing as the line snakes around. But what about the singing? Should everyone have a part?
me: It can be a chorus with solos for the bride and groom and officiate and maybe the parents of the bride and groom. After the ceremony, the bride and groom can perform a duet in harmony. Then every claps and throws flowers on the stage.
Tanya: But it all has to rhyme!
me: Since you are the bride, at some point you should have a tap dancing solo. After all, it is YOUR day.
Jen: I agree there should be some solo for the bride…but what about hooping instead of tap dance? I just bought a hula-hoop…if I practice enough I can get the one that lights on fire – now that’s a show stopper!
me: If you do that, you should do 2 hoops as a symbol of your wedding bands. Then you can throw one of the hoops across the stage to the groom and when he catches it, you are married.
Tanya: Watch out—your eyebrows might catch on fire!! AAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!
me: Save the flaming eyebrows for the honeymoon.

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

LOL PIPER

Monday, January 28, 2008

It doesn't have to stand alone...

My friend, Jen, and I hit the thrift store this weekend and Jen spied this guy right here. He likes cheese. He wants YOU to put YOUR CHEESE in HIS belly. He promises the next time you make spaghetti, it will be right there where you left it, ready for you to sprinkle all over your meatball. Considering no one else in my home has volunteered to be the custodian of the cheese, I decided to take a chance on this guy. He seems pleased about being given the opportunity. Of course, now I have to buy some parmesan cheese. In the meantime, he can organize the spice rack.

Jen said that growing up her familly had one of these. I had never seen a condiment dispenser so charming. My family's parmesan cheese came in a cardboard tube covered in green foil. The only time that thing had any personality was if you spun the plastic yellow lid until the little holes were on top and the half circle was at the bottom. Then it grinned awkwardly at you as if it was waiting for you to take it's picture. "Cheeeeeeeeeese"!

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Black Toyota, revisited

First thing for those who have been asking: The parking space bandit (referenced in this previous post) has not returned. I am still a little skeptical if he/she/it is gone for good. If I can make it to Easter without another usurping of my rented, 5x13, asphalt rectangle, I'll be far more confident. If in a couple months, you see me teetering down 15th Street balancing a honey baked ham on my shoulder, well, throw me a little toot on the horn. The props will be greatly appreciated. Actually, I am easily startled and naturally clumsy, so maybe a peace sign or a courtesy wave would be better. Can you bruise a ham?

A request has been made that I post the content of my last note. So, here it is:

"Greetings, black 4-door Toyota, license plate no. &$%#@!*!

Today is picture day! I've taken three pictures. One of your license plate positioned over the yellow stencilled number four of my parking spot. The second is from the side showing your vehicle parked next to the permit parking only sign (not a very flattering angle for you, I'm afraid). And the last one is of your windshield, with this note under your wiper, also demonstrating that indeed you do NOT have a parking permit. I'm gonna share these with my management company. So the next time you park here? We can tow your a**, guilt-free. Pay for your own parking, PRINCESS."

So, yes, this note was a little more intimidating than my previous notes. But here's the thing. I didn't really take ANY photos of this car at all. This tactic was the result of my angry, hasty, and frustrated brainstorm to persuade this person to never park here again. Because ultimately? That's what I want.

Another thing, there's no indication that the driver of this car was either male or female. I just assume anyone who blatantly inconveniences others repeatedly as a result of their acknowledged failure to take responsibility for themselves is exactly that: a princess. So if you're a dude and that sounds like you, then guess what, dude? You're a princess. My four-year-old niece would love you. She has bed sheets with your face on them.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Orange you glad this isn't a knock knock joke?

This is a page from my Wreck This Journal (Keri Smith) journal. The overall point of the journal is to destroy it and in doing so, learn a little bit about your creative process. This task is to collect stickers you've peeled off of fruit and collect/arrange them on this page.

I have neglected this page for MONTHS until today when I was eating a pear and all of a sudden I had the desire to put the little green and red sticker... some place... what am I collecting these things for? Oh yeah, that journal page thing.

So when I opened this, I have to say, I was a little disappointed at what I had left. I am clearly "organizing" these. The biggest challenge with this page for me is that I only get to add a single sticker at a time, so the end result will have been completed over a seriously long period of time. So no planning, no vision. Just a dot here or there.

So, one month from today on February 23rd, I'll post this page again and hopefully, I will have been a bit more inventive. Here are little reminders to myself:
  • Use the entire space (both sides of the journal).

  • Alter the stickers. Don't feel the need to keep the stickers intact.

  • Let go of my perception of balance. I can see where I am making sure the color is distributed evenly. STOP THIS.

Also, am I the only one that worries about plums also being known as a "4040" all over the country as well as all over the world? I suspect this Produce Dewey Decimal System will come in very handy when the aliens invade, so they'll be able to tell the difference between a white nectarine (a 3035) and a plain ole nectarine (a 4378). Just sayin'.

Stitch Sketches

I posted about this on the Create A Day blog, too, but here is a sketch and a "stitch sketch" I made based on my sketch.










I have a few doodles that I am going to try this with. I'm going to go get some framing materials this weekend. Hopefully I can use my Dremel to do the myter (sp?) cuts. Or, I will just be lazy and go to IKEA. It could go either way.

Monday, January 21, 2008

Doing irreparable damage to my soul.

Is it bad that I often check PerezHilton.com before I check my e-mail? Just wonderin'.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

I'm trying to SAVE YOUR LIFE here.

Brown rice is boring. And gross. Often times both. I always order it in restaurants because it always tastes perfect and nothing like the brown rice I know. Then when I make it at home, the end result has me walking around my home looking for holes in the wall to patch with it. Blech. I don't know how I'm screwing that up. Like...... boiling water? Is like...... hard.

So this tip is for those of us who can't help but equate brown rice with that scene in The Lost Boys, when Jason Patric's take-out turns into little tan squiggly larvae because right before that, Kiefer Sutherland put him under a voodoo vampire spell and then Kiefer flies off to squelch a couple of terrorist threats in the neighborhood. Then while he's doing that, Jason Patric runs off with Julia Roberts right before Kiefer and Julia's wedding. I say "runs off" because Julia looks pretty healthy and she probably got that way by eating lots of brown rice. Brown rice that doesn't look like maggots.


Anyway, I've been using a mix of good ole fashioned brown rice (takes a loooong time to cook) and boil in a bag (which only takes 10 minutes). After you prepare the rice according to the instructions, chop up a couple of green onions and add it to the rice while it is still all steamy. Mix it all up and give it a couple minutes before plopping some on your plate.


Here's the rice I've been enjoying all week. If anyone else tries this, I'd love to hear your reaction. That is if you survive the whole stake-through-the-heart, vampire stalking situation.

Buy! Sell! BUY! SELL!

I had a couple sales today and spent a little bit of my etsy bucks on a couple of trinkets:

This is going to hold ATCs and some business cards for my shop ($5 from
Cucio):

And this ($6 from BAM Designs):


This is going to be a Valentine's gift for a little person I know who may instantly decide that because it is not pink or purple and does not have Cinderella on it, then it must be for a boy. Although I don't think so because that girl has her mother's blood in her and is all about the accessories.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Super HOT Sexy Stamps! Look Here:

OK, not really. But these stamps are at least a 7, right? Maybe an 8 in the right light on a good hair day?


I love postcrossing.com and I've been vigorously exchanging mail since last summer. I just stocked up on international postcard stamps and got these Purple Heart 41 cent stamps while I was at the counter (she asked if I wanted something different and I said, Hit me!, and hello Purple Hearts).

Now, the international postcard stamp is by far the most impressive of all our US stamps and should be as it is seen all over the world. Look at it! It's a jog on the beach during a tropical sunset!! The best ad for the American life you can find. Let's promote this beautiful place to the planet! Here's the thing. The bottom right corner? Says Guam. Wha? What's wrong with Hawaii or Florida or California? Are we afraid North Dakota will find out it's freaking cold in their state?

As somebody who receives a lot of international stamps, I have to say our country's postage is lacking in comparison to the lush, imaginative, vibrant, historically significant, regal stamps that I see in my mailbox.

So I was pleased to receive these great Purple Heart stamps. They are sophisticated, reference our military heritage, and honor our wounded heroes. GO, USPS! Me likey. The bulk rate blue tiger stamp? That belongs on a oak veneer wall clock.

Oh, and the stamps in the middle were the BEST CHRISTMAS PRESENT ever. They are from my sister, who customized them with my pup's pic at
stamps.com. Let's see what THAT face can do for international relations.

Monday, January 14, 2008

Hello, Black Four-Door Toyota!

How've you been? It's been a while. But surprise, surprise, when I came back from the grocery store today, there you were. Parked in my parking spot. Again. You know the one! It's marked #4 next to the really obnoxious sign about private parking and towing and stuff. Yeah, that one! It's a good spot, I know. I like it a lot. It's worth every penny, too. 5,000 bright and shiny copper pennies a month (in case you were interested in getting one for yourself... ha ha).

So how were your holidays? Because it was the day before Thanksgiving when I last saw you. I remember because on that occasion, I got to carry all my holiday groceries around the block in the rain. Turns out a bag of yams and cranberry sauce will keep pretty well in your trunk.

This is really awkward, but I'm just gonna put this out there... Are you getting my letters? The ones I've been leaving under your windshield wiper? Because I'm starting to get the impression that you might be ignoring me and well, that stings. I put a lot of thought into those notes. One part informative, two parts concern, with just a dash of threat to tow. In the second note, I implored you to go out and commit a random act of kindness to compensate for your lack of courtesy and bring your karma back into balance. No?

I'm afraid the last note I just left does not show as much concern for your conscience, Black Toyota, which I imagine is slightly smaller in size than the quarter that you are unwilling to put in a parking meter.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

And on Sunday...

I just finished the last ATC I did for a swap. I shredded some outdated green forms from work that I salvaged and made sure to incorporate some into each ATC (artist's trading card). Other materials I used are a used Starbucks gift card, a thank you note (thank YOU, Tanya), magazine scraps, a business card, and one of those filing labels dots. Check out my Flickr set to see the others I did in this series along with contributions from Jen and Tanya.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

At last...

Just posted these to the shop:YAHOO!

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

I can't have dairy

There it is world. I've got the lactose intolerance and it has me. It's not really a secret, 'cause if you know me then I've told you all about it everytime the ding-ding of the ice cream truck is near or someone brings a cheesecake into the vicinity.

But guess what? Today? I had a strawberry milkshake at lunch. And for dinner? I snacked on a variety of middle-of-the-line cheese and crackers.

You're thinking I am quite a rebel, right now, aren't you? You are probably impressed by my lack of concern for consequences and that I am probably the type of person that travels to a foreign country alone with nothing but my wits and a moist towelette. I go against the grain and I do what I want. But you are wrong. 'Cause I just forgot. For about the 100th time, I forgot that I can't eat these things. In fact, I didn't realize it until JUST NOW as I started this post even though I have been having stabbing pains in my gut ALL DAY LONG.

Damn you, dairy industry and your happy cows and delectable treats! You are the Joker to my Batman with your dastardly tricks.

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

On the 8th day of January, my true love gave to meeeeee....

Wha? I'm starting a movement. A "decorative-tree-for-year-round" movement. It's going to spread happiness and cheer to the peoples with it's synthetic pine needles and glittery orbs. Wanna join?

I'll take it down next week....

Monday, January 7, 2008

Probably not 501s...

Today I perused a headline which read, "Woman Gives Birth in Her Pants".

I didn't click on it for fear of too many details. I instinctively avoid that which may lead me down a road to hearing about another person's placenta. (My sister is unlike me and not only frequents that road, but is capable of steering you toward it while you are trying to eat your mashed potatoes). I suppose most people would naturally react by showing concern for the woman, her child, and their well-being. Perhaps one might wonder what the circumstances are that precede introducing the fruit of your loins to your Fruit of the Looms. Not me.

Me? My immediate thoughts went to: what type of pants was she wearing? Was it those maternity leggings? Did the infant make a baby-sized lump on her inner thigh like the neck of a cartoon flamingo that swallowed a chicken leg? Maybe it was sweatpants. And when the kid came out, it swaddled right into the elastic band around the ankle, making a covenient cradle.

The good news is: the baby was fine. It was a little boy and they named him Mason.

When Mason gets to be about 4, won't he be impressed to find out that his mom commited the ultimate bodily function... IN HER PANTS.

Sunday, January 6, 2008

Today: Felt a wave of inspiration, so I started this blog. Now I am drifting out to sea...