Has it been a while? It seems like it has. No? I think it has. Well, even if it hasn’t, here it is – the latest Mystery Photo Quiz!
This will be a test of your willpower – try your best to guess the answers without reading the rest of the comments. It’s nearly irresistible, I know, but do your best. I have faith in you.
Good luck!
#1

#2

#3

#4

#5

#6

#7

14 Comments; | Filed under: Photo Quiz

You know what drives me nuts (aside from train etiquette violators and fuse thieves)? People who are always doing stuff.
I know you know what I’m talking about – we’ve all seen the type. Really talented, brilliant ideas, unique vision, all combined with the worst traits of all: unparalleled initiative and mad organizational skills.
These are the people who make the rest of us look bad, as we sit around at coffee shops saying things like:
“Hey Natasha – we should learn how to make aromatherapy candles and sell them on the Internet!”
Or
“Wouldn’t it be great if we formed our own breakdance crew? We could do shows around town for kids and the elderly!”
Or
“I have such an awesome idea for a novel! It’s based on this box of old scarves I found at an estate sale. It will require a lot of historical research, but I’m totally going to do it!”
Well, for me, that person is my dear friend Jen Benka. Always with the original ideas, and the artistic eye, and the enviable planning skills. And now, she’s done it again. She and her friend and fellow poet, Veronica Wong, have organized what looks to be an amazing weeklong poetry event in New York City starting this Sunday, called “Finally With Women.”

“Finally With Women” is a reading series which will be held Sunday, August 6 through Thursday, August 10, from 6-8 p.m. Each night will be dedicated to one woman poet and consist of readings of her work:
Sunday, August 6 – Mina Loy
Monday, August 7 – Audre Lorde
Tuesday, August 8 – Barbara Guest
Wednesday, August 9 – Muriel Rukeyser
Thursday, August 10 – Gertrude Stein
Not enough information? Here’s the description from The Village Voice:
“One hundred acclaimed and emerging female writers will celebrate the life and work of influential poets Mina Loy, Audre Lorde, Barbara Guest, Muriel Rukeyser, and Gertrude Stein at this five-day readings series titled Finally With Women. Each day will be devoted to a different poet, with about 20 readers per day, including experimental poet Elaine Equi, transgender activist Kate Bornstein, National Book Critics Circle Award winner Marie Ponsot, spoken-word artist Tara Betts, and essayist Vivian Gornick.”
Still need more? For more details on all the performers, check out the official site at Finally With Women.
Congrats, Jen! Now you’ve inspired me to go find that box of old scarves…

9 Comments; | Filed under: General

Hey karma, it’s me, Jenny. Pick up, it’s me. Karma, I know you’re home – I saw your number pop up on my caller ID… Fine. Okay, look – is this about the walking on the wet paint thing? Because you know I had no other choice! Or what – is this about Harry Potter? God, you can be such a baby sometimes. Whatever. Call me.
So last night at around 8:30pm, my electricity went out. In 95 degree heat advisory 100% humidity weather, my electricity went out. I scrounged up a flashlight, trucked down to the basement, being ever so careful not to let the door slam shut behind me, and started looking for my fuse box. All the fuses seemed to be in working order, until I noticed two empty sockets underneath the four main ones.
Curious.
I opened up each of the other 11 fuse boxes belonging to the other tenants and saw that they all had two fuses in those bottom two slots. And then it hit me:
Some lazy ass mofo stole my fuses! They blew their own fuses, so instead of hauling their worthless carcasses to the hardware store, they just decided to screw someone else over. IN 95 DEGREE HEAT ADVISORY 100% HUMIDITY WEATHER! What kind of a soulless bastard does that? Before my mind was able to swirl into its eventual full rage, I had a quick flashback, just like in the movies:
It was 2002, and I was standing in the kitchen with my mother, unpacking my dishes as I moved into this apartment. I pulled open a drawer under the cupboards and saw a small box of fuses. I remember my mother saying “Oh that was nice of them to leave for the next tenants.”
I ran upstairs and threw open what had since become my junk drawer, tossed aside a few vacuum cleaner belts, a mini cassette recorder and some travel candles, and found the half empty box of fuses. Thank god my brain hangs onto what are typically useless random memories like this.
I ran back downstairs, screwed in one fuse, then attempted to screw in the other one but noticed that it didn’t quite fit. As I soon discovered, whoever stole my fuses was not only a thief, but an incompetent moron and somehow stripped the socket so that the fuse wouldn’t fit anymore.
My only saving grace was that the fuse that did actually fit controlled all the electricity in my living room, including my window air conditioner. The other one, unfortunately, controlled my refrigerator.
So now, here I sit, awaiting some sort of response from my landlord, packing ice into the tiny Styrofoam cooler I bought today so that I don’t have to buy all new condiments. I have also, at the clever suggestion of my friend Dr. Greene, made inconspicuous marks on all my fuses. This way, if my electricity goes out again, I will be able to identify who stole my fuses. And then I will remove all their fuses, smash them with a sledgehammer (after recouping my own, of course) and lay in wait for the culprit in the basement. But first I will build a snake pit right in front of their fuse box.
I will also set a spring loaded booby trap in my fuse box containing a dozen scorpions and tarantulas. Not the deadly kind. Just the ones that make you really, really sick. My plan will be complete once I:
a) Borrow a jackhammer so I can build a snake pit in the concrete floor of my basement
b) Figure out where you can buy non-lethal yet still extremely painful snakes, scorpions and tarantulas
c) Prevent the scorpions and tarantulas from killing each other or dying of asphyxiation
d) Ensure that I do not accidentally set off the trap myself
Until I figure all that out, I’m just giving the malocchio to everyone who walks into my building.
[spit, spit]

31 Comments; | Filed under: General

When I dusted off my very first published novel and posted it here a few weeks ago, I was feeling pretty happy with my talent as a seven-year old. It may have been the pinnacle of my career, in fact. But then, last weekend, I visited my brother and his family, and realized that I had been dethroned by both my nephews.
At just six and eight, their raw talent far surpasses anything I could ever hope to achieve. My eight year old nephew is delving into the world of prose poetry, and the six year old clearly has a knack for historical non-fiction.
At this point, I’m going to focus all my creative energy on getting them both agents so that I can retire early. I mean, a six year old who uses the word, “fierce?” He has made Tyra Banks and me so very, very proud:
Dragons Are Fierce
Illustrated by Andrew, Auther is Andrew (Age 6)

Dragons breathe out fire
They have scales that are rock solid.
And they drink water like us.

Dragons have sharp teeth,
Some dragons have white teeth.

Dragons are like dinosaurs except dragons have wings,
When dragons run out of meat they have to eat nothing,
Or else they will die.

Dragons are fierce, they also have a devil’s tail.
They love to play in the fire like devil’s.

Dragons have a flame box.
If they don’t have a flame box they cannot breathe out fire
Or else they can’t breathe out fire.

Sometimes dragons have horns,
Sometimes they don’t.
Dragons usually have a spiky tail.
Moast dragons had red or blue eyes.

The End.

12 Comments; | Filed under: General

“Hey, hon. So… what do you think about going to Portland the weekend after Valentine’s Day?”
“Portland? Oregon or Maine?”

“Oregon.”

“In February? Seems like it would be kind of cold. What’s the occasion?”

“Um, well, there’s gonna be this thing, with a bunch of bloggers, and drinking tequila, and talking about the Internet.”

“But, I don’t have a blog.”

“That’s okay – you don’t have to. It’ll be really fun to meet-”

“And I don’t want to talk to a bunch of computer nerds I don’t even know.”

“Well you don’t have to talk to them. I’m sure there will be other people who don’t blog.”

“I don’t want to talk to a bunch of non-computer nerds either. What kind of Valentine’s Day gift is that supposed to be?!”

“God! Can’t you ever just let me enjoy something? How about I get you nothing for Valentine’s Day? How about that?”

“Fine by me! And how about you take your shit out of my apartment for your Valentine’s Day gift?!”

“You don’t understand me! You’ve never been supportive of anything I do! Nobody understands me like my blogger friends!”

“They’re not your friends! They’re just freaks on the Internet!”

“Shut up! I hate you!”

“I hate you too!”

[slam]

[slam]

This is a conversation I hope will begin taking place all across the country, nay the world, as plans begin to formulate for what looks to be the greatest blogger get-together of all-time. It will be hard to top TequilaCon’06: New York City, but I think we can do it, with your participation.

So put it in your Franklin Day Planner – in ink – and start saving your dimes. Because this time, there will be no excuses.

TequilaCon ’07: Electric Boogaloo
February 17, 2007 TBD
Portland, Oregon

***

UPDATE:
Almost forgot to mention, I’m already compiling the first of several spreadsheets detailing the demographic, socio-economic, and psychographic breakdown of all attendees, so be sure to let me know if you think you might attend.

TequilaCon ’07 – now with 50% more pie charts!

***

UPDATE #2:
Okay – so due to the eagle eyes of Dave2, we just discovered that the Portland Int’l Film Festival is being held for the two weeks that cross over our original dates. Hotels are already starting to sell out, so we’re probably going to have to pick a new date – most likely in March/April. I’m open to suggestions, so feel free to send them my way. Details to follow.

28 Comments; | Filed under: TequilaCon

Usually, it takes a lot to really get my blood boiling, and even when it does start to bubble, I can usually keep it under control. I’m kind of like an M&M with a molten Sicilian center surrounded by a thick, level-headed German shell. Melts in your mouth, not in your hands.
But when I’m really stressed out at work, like I have been for the past two weeks, and then I lose my DSL and phone service for three days and have to spend 45 minutes beeping and booping my way through seventeen layers of automated help menus at AT&T, and the sushi place forgets to put my ebi in the takeout box and I don’t realize it until I’m all the way home, the little things start to make me crazy.
So today, the object of my hatred is the universe of people who simply do not understand how to ride a train. The collective rage deep inside me has been churning up, so much so that I had to do the only thing I know that can calm me down: I made a list. Some people drink, some people smash things. I drink, smash things, and then categorize. For your reference, I have listed these in the order in which I typically encounter them.
Premature evacuators
These are the people who, for whatever reason, feel the need to get up from their seat and stand by the door for the remaining five minutes of the train ride into the Loop. Apparently, if they are first off the train, they win.
But instead of simply asking the person next to them if they can get out, they will shuffle their papers and zip up their jackets and snap shut their briefcases and look at their watches and wiggle in their seats and exhale heavily all with great dramatic flair so that the person next to them gets up. Well you know what? You can shuffle your ass and snap your pleather briefcase all you want, but unless you speak to me, or until that train comes a-screechin’ into the station, I will never let you out. Ever. Even if I’m in a hurry. DO YOU HEAR ME! NEVER!
First-time revolving door users
Are there parts of the world that don’t have revolving doors? Because the train stations in the Loop seem to attract an inordinate amount of people who have no idea how they work. So here is my advice to those people: IT’S NOT F*CKING DOUBLE DUTCH, PEOPLE! JUST JUMP YOUR ASS INTO THE FIRST AVAILABLE SLOT AND SHUFFLE YOUR FEET! DONE!
I swear to god, at 6:00pm rushhourtryingtogethomeafterareallycrappyday why do I always get stuck behind the family from the suburbs that has just been on a shopping spree at the American Girl store and has fifty two bags and forty three children who are ascared to step inside the revolving door? And then they shove in, two at a time, which brings the entire process to a screeching halt.
Smelly food eaters
I understand that some people are stuck on the train for a good hour or so, right at dinner time. You want to eat? I’m totally cool with that. But please, please, can you please just not get the jumbo double onion burrito from Taco Bell or the extra garlic chicken wings from Popeye’s two seconds before you hop onto the train?
These are smells that waft through the train car like cartoon skunk spray, weaving their way around every single passenger and ultimately fusing with my skin cells, so I actually smell it when I get home. Look – there’s an Aunt Annie’s pretzel store right by the doors, or a Subway sandwich shop over there in the corner. Cinnamon raisin pretzel, turkey club and chips – healthy, satisfying, and pretty much odor free. That’s all I ask.
I’ve been toying with the idea of claiming that I’m pregnant so that I can ask people to not sit by me with their smelly food. “I’m so sorry, but you see, I’m pregnant [touches belly and smiles], and very sensitive to strong scents like the rank odor that is seeping out of your chicken and jalapeno quesadilla right now. Would you mind moving down? Two or three cars should be fine. Thank you ever so much!”
Ravinia-goers
This will mostly make sense to Chicagoans, so I’ll explain a bit. Every summer, there are nightly open air concerts at a place called Ravinia Park, where you can bring a picnic dinner, some wine, and enjoy the Chicago Symphony Orchestra with your sweetheart.
Lovely, no?
No. Not if you are just trying to get home, but your train happens to be on the Ravinia Park route, in which case 50% of the train is filled with first-time train riders who don’t exactly understand that:
a.This vehicle is first and foremost a commuter train. For people to commute. It does not become your private party bus after 5:00pm.
b.You cannot stack your six lawn chairs with built-in cup holders on the four seats next to you, and make other people stand in the aisle.
c.If you and your eight friends from college carrying beach blankets and margarita mix do not move your frickin’ Corona ponchos away from the doors, none of us will actually be able to exit the train, in which case you will never get to hear the sweet soulful sounds of Patti LaBelle.
d.While I’m really excited that you’re going to see Bobby McFerrin and the Beach Boys all in one night, if your picnic basket hits my kneecap one more time, I will set it on fire. I carry matches in my bag just for moments like this.
That one guy
So finally, there’s always that one guy who, through no real fault of his own, just annoys the shit out of you. Okay, out of me. He annoys the shit out of me. In my case, it’s that one guy who looks like Harry Potter.
I mean, first of all, what grown man goes out of his way to make himself look like Harry Potter? Now, come on. Those glasses? Why don’t you just get yourself a wand and a lightning bolt scar and call it a day?
I honestly can’t help it – he doesn’t deserve my rage – I know that. He’s just minding his own wizardly business… oh, wait. Except for the part where he always has to call his wife/girlfriend/whatever and get all schmoopy woopy with her because apparently he can’t bear to live without the sound of her voice FOR THE THIRTEEN MINUTES IT TAKES TO GET FROM DOWNTOWN TO MY STOP where she then picks him up.
I’m not a praying woman, but please lord, let me never be so dependent upon another human being that I cannot somehow occupy myself for thirteen minutes without no-I-wuv-you-more and goo-goo ga-ga-ing with them on the phone in a public setting. Amen.
There are actually at least three to four more categories I could discuss, including the Seat Hoggers, Garbage Leavers, and Nail Clippers, but releasing this pent up rage into the universe has gotten me too worked up. Now I have to go back to drinking and smashing things.

28 Comments; | Filed under: General

SBC AT&T sucks ass.
That is all.

10 Comments; | Filed under: General

Temporary phone issues have cut my blogging abilities off at the knees… it’s like living in the 80’s! And me without my cocaine and boat shoes.
Be back soon!

6 Comments; | Filed under: General

“Oh Jen – I made the best chili this week! It was so spicy that it gave your dad a nosebleed. Twice! I still have some in the freezer if you want to take a bowl home with you.”
“Mm… tempting, but no. Call me if you make him some egg salad that gives him diarrhea, though.”

[Happy birthday, mom! I love you to pieces!]

17 Comments; | Filed under: General

I recently realized that last month marked the two year anniversary of this blog. Two years. That would almost qualify as a long-term commitment. In fact, in some states, this blog would be my common-law wife.
Now get me a Pabst and fry me up an egg sandwich, dammit! Lazy good for nothing blog!
While my first year of blogging was filled with change and the slow climb back from unemployment to financial stability, this second year can be summed up in two words: digital camera.
What a sap I was during that first year, always trying to think of stuff to say, worrying about grammar and shit. Now that I have a camera, I can just swear, put up a picture of a light bulb, and call it a day. See what I mean? I just said “shit” a minute ago and no one did anything. What are you gonna do? Call the internet on me? Ha. Here’s your damn light bulb:

No wonder I always preferred the “show” to the “tell” as a child – it’s so much more efficient. Now, if only someone could explain to me what white balance is all about, my life would be complete.
But still, I have to admit that I did learn a lot about myself during this past year. This blog isn’t all about giggles and candy, you know. Sometimes it’s my private little refuge, the place I visit when I want to be alone with my thoughts in a completely public forum. But then I think, two years is a long time. But it ain’t long enough. Sixteen years ain’t gonna be long enough. Hell, I wouldn’t care so much if there hadn’t been so many things I haven’t done yet. So many damn things I ain’t seen or done. Shoot, that time when you and me was in Windrixville was the only time I’ve ever been away from my neighborhood. You listenin’ to me, Ponyboy?
Whazza? Anyway, with that, let me share a few of the important self-discoveries I… discovered. About myself. [Aside from the fact that scotch makes a nice chaser to lemon/lime popsicles.]
1. Tattoos turn me on, in a big, BIG way.

2. I have an unhealthy obsession with my cats.

3. I :::heart::: macro.

4. Bloggers rock my world.

[And for those of you who prefer the “tell” to the “show,” I linked to some of my favorite entries from the past year over in the sidebar.]
I said fried egg, dammit! This is scrambled!

36 Comments; | Filed under: General