I summon up the power of banana clan*

Alrighty, time for some pics and some words about

Witness the Thanksgiving Fitness '07!

Per usual, it started the weekend before, what with the grocery shopping, and early food prep (baked goods can often be made several days ahead of time. I made 3 kinds of muffins, for instance, in one fell swoop Sunday night. Bran-raspberry jam, Apple-Cheddar-Bacon, and PB&J). Wednesday night, with the epic bike crash, was not an auspicious beginning to the official festivities, but it didn't hold up the cooking much since I had so many willing bodies to help me out. We cooked late into the night.

Thursday morning dawned not-particularly-early. Roomie D made his famous egg-bake dish to tide us all over whilst we labored away. He prepared a turkey à la St. Alton Brown, and it was excellent. Drinking and whatnot started early, as they should on the best holiday of the year. We were aiming for 2pm for the real eating to start, and with the help of roomie D, J, B-alicious, J-mama, S, D, E and el señor B, we came close enough. There were massive quantities of food. Massive. The pictures don't even start to illustrate the gluttony properly as all the food was not yet laid out when they were taken. So you'll just have to trust me: there was an amount of food that could only be described as obscene. J took enough pictures of roomie D and S carving the turkey that if you scroll through them fast enough on the still camera, it's almost a movie.

We ate.

And ate.

And ated some more.

We probably ated too much.

During the course of the weekend, A, R and L-bot all stopped by to sample our wares. Which fed us all, all weekend long. Luckily, the back porch stayed cold enough that we never really had to put away the food. It did make pilin' up a plate a bit chilly, though. There was much witnessing of the fitness (J-mama brought his velour track suit special for the occasion), printer jams, reality checks, don't give 'im the stick, and rollin' up of shit. There was also Heartthrob, and later dirty-customized Heartthrob, where we used pics of goth-D, the masturbation fairy, and various drivers licenses as our potential dates, and the ultimate question was not who we would go steady with - it was a little uncomfortable. There were backrub daisy chains, more eating, a trip to St. Vinnies, even more eating, some caburlesque and finally more eating.

It was, in short, the BESTEST THANKSGIVING EVER! Thanks to all who made it happen!

Photo captions:
(1) Modeling the lovely decorations my mother sent, whilst looking all hostess-y in my apron. (2) D & J-mama survey nibblies at table #1. (3) More food overflowing onto the counters. (4) J & roomie D at main table #2. (5) Roomie D and S rock that carcass out. (6) B-alicious, el señor B, E & S looking mighty full after the first round of dessert. (7) J-mama demonstrating his fullness to S and the camera.

*"Witness (1 hope)" - Roots Manuva

...ten-one-thousand...WALK AWAY!

aka St. Alton Brown's "Muffin Method". Works every time. You'd know, if you've ever been lucky enough to eat my muffins (snigger...I can't help it).

I'm posting again today because I hate writing. You heard (read) me right. Blogs aren't bad because style-wise I can write how I think or how I talk. I'm currently attempting to write an original educational research proposal for an academic job application and IT BLOWS HARD. I'm also posting this picture specifically in the hopes of causing a few of you, in on the joke, to giggle. You gotta hear the vocals that go with this action, or so I'm told. If you're one of the lucky bastards that can't remember my voice: it's high, nasally, LOUD, sharp, penetrating, sometimes squeaky, and most of all - annoying. Also fairly recognizable if you go blind at a party and need to seek me out in order to be directed towards the muffins.

Crooked spin can't come to rest*

Ah, so, my trip to Puerto Rico. It was warm. It was beautiful. So were all the people I met. It was perfect and it was what I needed. How do I sum it up beyond that? I can't really, I'm sorry. I could tell you little vignettes about the complete lack of road signs, crazy drivers, being lost all the time (which I'm okay with), sitting on the beach, reading on the beach, doing math puzzles on the beach (yes, yes, I'm a nerd), combing the beach for bits of sea-glass, feeling very relaxed, snorkeling, drinking, a bit of chuffing, getting only a little sunburnt, my lousy attempts at Spanish, eating fish and/or guava paste at every meal. But really, they'd be better told in person and I don't think I could get across in writing how much I love los puertorriqueños and their gorgeous island. So here are a couple pictures, all of the beach because 90% of my time was spent there. I'm even applying for a teaching job in Mayagüez, although I doubt I'll get a response. But if I do, y'all come visit, hear? Muchas gracias especialmente a C y su esposa por la cena y JJ y sus chichitos de oído por un día maravilloso.

*Elliott Smith - "Say Yes"

Can my heart really be broken by my bike?

Answer: absolutely.

On my way home last Wednesday, me and the Super Death Bike 4000 got ourselves into a wee accident. Or really, a rather gnarly accident. It was dark, it had begun to snow at a heavy slant, squarely from the direction into which I was furiously pedalling. Without the most minute picosecond of warning, we both stopped quite abruptly as first SDB4k's wheel and then my face hit something, and hit it hard. That something was the ass-end of a dark brown, and thus nearly invisible, UPS delivery truck which was parked directly in the middle of the bike lane. After gingerly touching my face, which was quickly beginning to ache in a worrisome manner, I began to assess the condition of Ms. SDB4k. At first glance, I thought she looked okay, minus a now very flat tire. Then I tried to move the handlebars and they wouldn't go in one direction - the reason being that the wheel would hit the frame. Not good. Bent fork for sure.

The truck driver, I suppose hearing a large "whump" behind him, came out of the truck. It was then that I groggily noticed the parking lights. I couldn't say if they had been lit at the moment of impact. The driver was obviously concerned about me, and asked if I were hurt. I inquired as to whether he could see any blood, and when he assured me there was none upon my visage, I began to cry. Not for me. For her.

I just kept repeating "Oh fuck. Shit. My bike. I love this bike. My poor bike. Fuck. My bike."

I'm sure he thought I was nuts. But after assuring him that it was okay for him to leave, he did. My angelic friend Dylan came and picked us up, warmed me up with some hot tea and a heat pack for my neck and shoulders, and tried to assure me that what was important was that I did not appear to be hurt badly and that a bike is just a thing. But I love my bike. Shit, tears are welling up in my eyes just to type this all. I got home eventually. There were many beautiful people (B-alicious, J-mama, roomie D and his girlfriend J and her roomie A) waiting for me there, and all obeyed my cooking commands in preparation for the next day's feast, expressed sympathy at SDB4k's condition and worried about mine. True, I hurt a lot. I think that truck was trying to cram my head down my throat. Full-on headache, tight and aching shoulders, back, and neck, some bruises that over a week later are still mightily impressive, a swollen lip, bent glasses and a bruised nose that must have been what the glasses bent against, and a bruised forehead where my helmet (THIS IS PRECISELY WHY ALL CYCLISTS SHOULD WEAR A HELMET) whammed into it.

My other angelic friend whom you should all be familiar with by now, el señor B, rubbed my neck and shoulders for a long time that night, and it really helped to loosen up the whiplash a bit. My neck is still messed up - I've got a history of neck spraining - but it will heal eventually. By the next day my face wasn't even swollen any more, although it was sure tender. El señor also made a quick assessment of my bike. The fork was definitely fucked, hard to say if there were other problems. The third angel of this tale, J the V, actually came and picked up the (still) lovely SDB4k on Sunday, confirmed the original diagnosis, and assured me that he could make her go again. But most likely with a shiny new fork. I guess that her and Little Red will match now.

I'll still love the Super Death Bike 4000 with a mismatched fork. As a rebuilt bike, she was already a bit of a Frankenstein anyway. I'm glad to have gotten my first nasty wreck out of the way. I will definitely be exercising more caution while riding, in adverse conditions especially, from now on. I am grateful that I wasn't really injured and that SDB4k wasn't injured worse - I was going fast, probably around 10mph, when I hit - and I know that I'm lucky (I'm actually a very lucky person in life in general, but that's a different story). Also, it's not a bad story.

Well, I still have a lot of other stories to catch up on blog-wise: Puerto Rico and Thanksgiving Witness the Fitness '07 in particular. So I'll end this one here and get out of my pjs and...sniff...ride the bus into work. Or perhaps I'll take Little Red in if it's not too windy so that I can stop by the Rev to see if they've made any progress on the SDB4k. I renew my promise that there are photos and sass coming in the near future, and now they will likely include Ms. SDB4k after her fork-job.

Promises, promises

Life is kind of hectic right now, what with returning from Puerto Rico, hosting Thanksgiving, and then immediately going to Boston for a week afterwards. But after that, I will return! With pictures! And sass!

11:11 - I used to always make a wish at that time when I saw it. The same wish. No more.

Photo-blog time, again! Last week el señor B and I had a "catharsis night". We each got rid of something that had an extended meaning to us. Now el señor claims to be "ready for the ladies", whereas I've merely destroyed a few souvenirs that had been pestering me for a while (still enjoying the Dating Ban '07, thank you very much). I include here a couple pictures, sans further explanation.This past weekend was spent at a Boulder Bash at Rib Mountain. On the first day there had to have been 30 people there and 20 crash pads. The rock was ice-cold but the quartzite was still way friendlier than that up at DLSP. Got on some good projects, ripped up my hands and came away with some gnarly bruises. Didn't get to camp - it was closed - and so a good dozen of us stayed with the kindly S & R in Wausau, who even made us espresso and pancakes in the morning before heading back to the boulders for a second round of punishment with about half of the original crowd. Outdoor bouldering is starting to win me over and the crew was super nice. Never even took out my camera - it was too cold for hands to be out-of-pocket when not climbing or helping to finish of a bottle of Balvenie in 19 minutes flat.

Tomorrow I'm off to PUERTO RICO! HA! HA! HAAAAAAAAA! I deserve it for biking against the 20mph winds with 40mph gusts in near-freezing weather the past couple days. Beaches at 85˚F, here I come!

Wheels and leopard print

Me and the SUPER DEATH BIKE 4000 (SDB4k) in a pseudo-action shot! I am in bike love. She has multiple gears. She has reliable brakes. She has accessories, like a bell and basket. She has a swanky old Humber frame. Mad props to E and J the V for building her for me.

L-bot and Little Red, who I still love even though she kills my knees with her single high gear and coaster brakes. But I've never seen a more stylin' bike shape than the mens' Hiawatha Gambler and when riding, style is important. L totally didn't even whine about keeping up on her. Neither did the T-man. I whine every time I ride her, and going into the wind I swear even more than usual.

Me and Big Red, who I also love but try not to drive too much because she gets all of four-tenths of a mile to the gallon. She makes me feel tough and tall. Check out the sweet farmer stripe and tool box. Also, I'm pretty sure I was kinda pissed, as the Aussies would put it, for this picture. Why else I would have clambered up onto a cold, damp truck hood in the middle of the night is beyond my reasoning.

Finally, me and roomie D in our Halloween costumes for the Screamin' Cyn Cyn and the Pons show. He went as Uggg and I went as Cave Slut. We made that up, and we also made the costumes. Craft-rific! I climbed at the rock gym in that get-up. It was an iffy call but I had on some short-shorts underneath. My only regret is that I didn't get a picture of the climbing in the cave with the cavewoman costume or of D throwing me over his shoulder at the club.

Waiting to see when you'll let me down*

Ah, I do love me a busy social calendar.

Last-last weekend's activities began Friday night: swimming with A, and then an excellent curry dinner prepared by M and had with a pretty nice bottle of wine. M has these two absolutely adorable cats - so not like the Lenny's - that made me remember that I do in fact like cats. M also made me try some Grand Marnier which was actually really good. I ate and drank entirely too much, and stayed up entirely too late, but sometimes that's just the thing to do.

Saturday began with getting up entirely too early to go with el señor B and parents to my first ever cyclocross race. It was el señor's first also, but whereas I was merely observing, he was actually racing. The morning quickly devolved into a clusterfuck, but that's el señor B's tale to tell, and anyway I had fun. Then I left so that I could meet up with J the V to go to my first ever soccer game. We biked from my house over to Warner Park and what I was told is a crappy fútbol field. As we approached many dozens of mens with enormous thighs, an uncharacteristic shyness set in. So I mostly just watched the game by my lonesome, except when J the V butted heads - literally - with another player, resulting in a big nasty bump on his forehead for which he sat out about a quarter of the game. I kind of get fútbol now, and I'm told that they won. We rode over to Angkor Market, where they sell the universe's best mung bean sprouts ever. Got some of those and ingredients for another coconut curry. Mmmmmm...curry.

After dinner, J the V had a tattoo appointment. Now. I neglected to mention that on the bike ride to fútbol, I offered to attend said appointment as moral support, as repayment for a similar favor. But being that I'm a needle-phobe, I was crossing my fingers and hoping for a reply of "Oh hey, no thanks". So I could only wince and wish to kick myself when instead something along the lines of "Yeah, that'd be awesome" hit my ears. Doh. I'm not sure who was more nervous but my money is on me. But then here's the cool part: it's not nearly as bad watching someone else get a tattoo as it is getting one yourself. It doesn't even look like a needle, and of course it doesn't hurt (the watcher). J the V took his tattoo way more in stride than I ever do. Other than an occasional furrowed brow (which earned him a pat of empathy on the shin), you'd have thought he was playing checkers (I, on the other hand, yell and swear throughout and generally end up with my head between my knees at least once). The tattoo, done by Brian at Cap City, is gorgeous and it's inspired me to actually get around to designing my next one and hopefully to making an appointment soon.

Sunday I had breakfast with parents - twice! First was biscuits and sawmill gravy at Cracker Barrel with el señor B's folks and then a bloody mary at the Glass Nickel with my roomie D's paterfamilias. Then tried out my new bikini at one of the grosser hotel hot-tubs I've had the dubious honor of sitting in. I like the bikini, though. Ummmm...oh yeah, then I went climbing at the gym and I think that more or less rounds out last-last weekend.

Onto last weekend, then. Friday night el señor B biked over with E and we ordered delivery Tex-mex and drank wine, sitting with roomie D, J and R. B, E, R and I went on a leisurely bike ride to the lake and sat and sipped whiskey and apple cider on a dock in the dark. Then we played on some crazy playground with spinny things and climby things and there was some near-puking, I'm pretty sure. It was a beautiful, if slightly chilly, night.

Saturday a whole big bunch of people went to the Eplegaarden and we picked a bajillion apples. It was sunny and warm and all-around beautiful. That evening the T-man made it to town, visiting from Houston, and he and I and my friend L-bot, a short-term transplant here, went out to eat. Next we made our way to the roller derby (hellz yeah) and then to a show at the Union. Not so keen on the first band, but Meneguar and Defiance, Ohio were pretty good. Drank perhaps a teensy bit too much beer with T-man and L-bot, but we had a great time catching up and taking pictures and such.

Sunday morning the three of us went out for breakfast and I got BACON PANCAKES OH MY GOD. T-man and I went bouldering at the Dodge, where I once again managed to scare myself shitless. Another pretty day though, and I did not leave the crag ashamed of my efforts. We went to dinner (again. You know how it is when company is in town) with el señor and E. Actually that weekend has kind of rolled on into this week because T-man is still in town and wants to, ya know, do stuff. I know this coming weekend will be pretty nuts with Halloween festivities and all, so I'm trying to keep at least Friday free and clear to just plain chill out, although I'm already planning to be sewing costumes with B and A.

I should become a hermit, at least for a little while.

I also promise to post pics from last weekend soon. Didn't quite manage to pull out the ol' digital camera last-last weekend.

* "Ride" - Jen Wood

Fuck you. Pick me.

I am currently working on a massive blog post that started off about last last weekend, but because I'm slow is going to end up including last weekend, and perhaps even this coming weekend. It will be epic, because I've been having great, packed weekends lately.

And yet, I am cranky today. I mean, I am in a foul fucking mood. Absolutely rotten. I am full of hate and a little bit of sadness, but mostly hate and animosity. I'm trying not to take it out on the people who surround me, particularly those who I really love, but I think I'm being largely unsuccessful at that. And I don't want anybody being all "Aw, Dr. 1%, it's not so bad" because I know that but I hate the world and I want to wallow in my surliness today. Perhaps I should just say "fuck it", go home and take a nap, maybe bake some muffins. I'm going to try my hand at apple muffins.

Addendum: Just 'cause I'm in a filthy mood doesn't mean that these won't make me laugh. I'm certainly feeling like snappy mackerel today. "Ha! Ha! SNAPPY!"

Post-addendum: The apple-y muffins turned out AWESOME! We ate some, and I gave the rest to the boys at the Rev because I love love love the SUPER DEATH BIKE 4000! I promise a post soon on the SDB4k and the rest of my wheels.

It's the beat of a heart that is bigger than you now*

At some point during this blog experience, I began copying el señor B's habit of using song lyrics for blog titles. I really should be crediting these, and so instead of going back and editing each post, I'll just list them here for you now, in reverse chronological order. From now on, though, I'll reference the song at the end of my post.

How do ya pick the lyric, Dr. 1%? - you just might be asking.

Well, usually it's just something that's been stuck in my head for a gajillion years and I'm hoping that typing it out will remove it from my inner soundtrack to be replaced with something else - I just might reply.

10/1/07: "Beercan" - Beck
9/19/07: "Floorboards" - Sin Ropas
9/18/07: "Witness (One Hope)" - Roots Manuva
9/12/07: "Samson" - Regina Spektor
9/7/07: "Business Time" - Flight of the Conchords
8/28/07: "Sh-Boom" - The Crew Cuts
8/14/07: "Pushing Boulders" - Josh Small
7/3/07: Stinky the Grump's song from epidsode 2-10 of Chapelle's Show

I really should write about my very full weekend, but I've got to actually do some work today so it's going to have to wait, I'm afraid.


*"Not That Kind of Girlfriend" - Smoking Popes

Back in the swing, or saddle, or whatever.

Took a while to get a new workout schedule going this semester, which I hope to be into fully by next week. My old schedule got all messed up by the graduation of the hott aerobics instructors who taught an excellent circuit class for the last year, so I had to find something new to fill the space. On el señor B's suggestion, that space filler is a vicious yoga/pilates class. So now, in addition to biking to work and back (roundtrip ~13 mi) three to five days a week, I'll be rolling like this:

M: climbing (ugh, need to buy a new membership to the gym though - perhaps tonight.)
T: yoga/pilates (a severe ass-kicking)
W: swimbing (my preferred spelling, although "not-drowning" is probably a more accurate description anyway)
H: yoga/pilates + climbing (that's a long day)
F: swimbing (the lanes are so empty Friday evenings!)

And of course while the weather is still decent, occasional outdoor climbing on the weekends. I'd like to give mountain biking a try also this fall. In case you're thinking that schedule looks reedikulus, I usually drop one day per week at random. This week Monday climbing got dropped, mostly due to my reluctance to pay to get in.

A couple photos of me, snapped by R (aka DS) on our recent camping/bouldering trip to Governor Dodge, on a cute little V0+ complete with a brilliant undercling near the top and beached-whale finish. I haven't done a lot of outdoor bouldering, and it totally messes with my head still. Nothing like being 15 feet up a problem, realizing that jumping or climbing down is no longer an option, feeling your fingers slowly releasing that shallow, slopey dish, and knowing that UP is the only, and very scary, way to get out of this mess. I had to reach to the depths of my ovaries to get through a few of those routes. On a couple others, after multiple failed attempts near the bottom, I merely declared "oh fuck this shit" and jumped off. Still, I was pleased with 'scending at least one V2 and working hard on a V2/V3 before freaking out and backing off. Camping with R & J (aka SG) was also some much-needed fun and relaxation.

This weekend I hope to attend and observe my first ever cyclocross race (with el señor B) and soccer game (with J the V). It's all about ogling dudes with enormous thighs in tight shorts. Y'all know what I'm talking about.

She who falls in love with everyone she sees gets her heart broken every day

I declare...


...A FIVE-WAY TIE! Ha, seriously, I can't pick a weiner - I mean, winner - from our lil' blog contest. Although Dr. A was the only one with pictures, and also the only person to blog about the Chicago Hot Dog Mini-tour '07. From my perspective, it was pretty cool to see how peoples' impressions (and factual accuracy as a function of intoxication) varied.

THANK YOU to the Doctors 3 and El señor B for a fantastic weekend and impressive blogging effort!

I got a drug and I got the bug and I've got something better than love

Ah, the first post of October. This one will probably take me a while to write, 'cause I gotta make it good. It's a contest, see, between me and a few other people, to do the best blog about this past weekend. I need to get some pictures from Dr. A. I know y'all got faith in me, but I'm up against some heavy contenders here. I do not expect victory, but I will put on a good show.

Right now it's raining and I'm sitting on the porch with the Lenny's. Tonight Lenny is going to puke because I fucked up and let him get into Baby Lenny's food. Whoops. I scrubbed the bathtub tonight, which made me happy. I also finished season 3 of Six Feet Under, to which I am currently addicted. And I changed the rat cage and swept the house (no minor undertaking with two long-haired cats and all wood or tile flooring). Thus I feel accomplished for the evening.

Anyway, enough of all that. Let's get down to business, kids.

El señor B and I packed Friday morning and brought all our stuff to school with the intent of leaving for Chicago directly from Engineering campus. However, as we made our way out of town, B revealed that he had not packed a swimsuit and thus it was imperative that we stop by his apartment to pick up the jammers (whoa, just look at those goggles!), just in case there were to be hot tub action in our near future. Other than my first-ever pit stop at the over-the-tollway mall, complete with overly-salty and not-warmed-cheese-sauce'd pretzel, the ride to Chi-town was largely uneventful.

Then I met the doctors. And el señor B and I discovered that we can not even roll with the doctors. They are some dirty fucking sandbaggers.

B's brother, Dr. I, doesn't look a lot like el señor in my opinion, but their speech patterns and neuroses give away the relation. The occasion for our meeting up was Dr. I's 30th birthday - but he looks all of 25, thaz right. Dr. G is a force of nature. Dr. A is the boss lady - a good thing, I was to discover later. After initial introductory stuff and a late dinner, I could tell that this was going to be a good weekend. We took a train to somewhere else in the windy city, a place that Dr. G had heard was fun. We walked around for a bit and then were drawn to a big green awning from a couple blocks away. As we approached its verdant spectacle, we discovered that a tequila bar lay beneath that awn.

"Oooooooooh. Yeeeeeeah, that could be a bad idea."

So we kept looking, but eventually were drawn back by the promise of chips and salsa and, well, tequila. Dr. G began the show with a round of Patrón shots. This should have set my alarm bells ringing, but I really like Patrón - it's sipping tequila. Of course, the shots were accompanied by the first of what were to be way too many margaritas. Now here's where it all starts to get a little fuzzy for me, frankly. I'll just have to go through the snippets that I can recall, and I in no way vouch for the accuracy of any of this.

Snippet #1: Dr. G calling my cell phone, I think so that I could have her number easily. I listened to the message a couple days later - nearly entirely incomprehensible, and I could hear me shouting and cackling in the background throughout.

Snippet #2: Taking cleavage shots of all at the table. I only really remember this because we looked at the pictures later that night back at the hotel. It's my goal for the rest of the year to do cleavage shots any time a camera is handy.

Other than that, the tequila bar and travel afterwards is lost to me entirely.

Snippets #3-10: Being in a dance club and spying the dj stage. If I recall correctly (doubtable), there wasn't anyone on the stage besides the dj, but I immediately dragged Dr. A up there and ordered dancing to occur. El señor B and Dr. I weren't far behind, and I don't know what happened to her in the meantime, but Dr. G joined us some time later. There was much flamboyant and very dirty dancing. I requested Deee-lite, which got played. I requested Ludacris, which did not. I grabbed Dr. I's ass for sure, and it's a good bet I grabbed a few more. I began dragging random strangers and couples up onto the stage to dance with us. Some complied, others were alternately horrified or amused. Soon it was a stage dance party! I take full credit. But then the powers-that-be made it into a ladies-only stage dance party, and we couldn't desert the menfolks, so somehow we discovered there was another dj in the basement. Tried requesting Ludacris again, got shot down again - who are these lousy djs? Had a conversation with Dr. I about our mutual appreciation for the burlier wedding tackle (thanks to J for that term).

Snippet #11: We decided to leave the club at some very late point, presumably because most of us were trashed. Dr. G was out the door and jetting off ahead of me and Dr. A, trumpeting her intention to walk back to the hotel - it looked slightly more like a gallop to me. But el señor B and Dr. I had yet to appear outside the club. As soon as I spied them stumbling out, I sprinted across the street through a yellow light so as not to lose track of the great navigator. I managed to slow down the aforementioned force of nature, and eventually the rest caught up and we did in fact make it safely back to the hotel on foot.

Snippet #12: El señor B plopping face down on a bed, legs dangling off. It was one of those plops that you just know is not going to end well. I did the only thing my very inebriated brain could come up with: I pulled off his sandals, apparently without loosening the straps. Now. Just so y'all know, I do not touch just anybody's feet. Feet are kind of gross. Especially climber/biker/general-athletic-person feet that besides have been traversing downtown Chicago in sandals. But this is el señor B we're talking about here, so I just vowed to burn my hands later. And I patted his back, 'cause I knew what was coming sooner or later. This earned me the following pledge, said mostly into a hideous hotel quilt: "K, I rully prishate chew." Awwwwww. And then! He was up! And off to inspect the hotel plumbing!

Snippet #13: Dr. A attempting to situate/keep calm all the boozers. This was a Herculean task that at some point involved her sleeping on the floor, too.

That's pretty much it as far as my swiss cheese is concerned. All the next day el señor and I suffered greatly for our night of cutting loose. Still, it had been worth it. But the doctors - it was like they'd spent the previous evening watching a movie before retiring early. And they'd gone out the night before, too! During many an uneasy moment on the sidewalks of Chicago that next day, el señor B and I reiterated that we just can not roll with the doctors. They are too much. Too much.

I wish I had some pictures to add. I tried drawing the dance club, perhaps I'll add it in later, or pics from Dr. A's camera should she pass them on. In the meantime, you'll just have to make do with this.

9/29/07: One whole year since it all came crashing down. I should throw a party.

Dear Frippy: Let's do the list thing again, even though lists aren't even safe. I should learn this from my own past experience and yours, too. But I'm a-gonna give it a shot anyway. So this list is of some of the things/people that make me happy (in random order - if I had to order these in a meaningful way I'd have to get another PhD first).

1. I live in a cool house with a cool roommate.
2. I'm financially secure enough that I don't worry money too much.
3. Rockclimbing, biking, swimming, yoga/pilates, aerobics.
4. El señor B, B-alicious, Dragonslayer & Sleep Goblin, D&L, S&J, C&M-V, NATO, B&A, K&S (again, pay no heed to the order). These amazing friends in particular really helped me to survive mostly psychologically intact through the last year.
4 1/2. All my other friends, too numerous to list.
5. My beautiful family: Mumsie, Pfather, Em-o-lee, the Goose, Papa, the R's and the C's.
6. Playing cribbage with J the V. I'm ahead one game, if you don't count the skunk, but we're both winners.
7. My babies, past and present: Toot, Ollie, Otto, Biner, Senna, Boris, Sven the Pooper, Cecil, Occifer.
8. I've got a job that I don't detest.
9. Not being a grad student any more.
10. KMNR 89.7FM and WSUM 91.7FM, complete with all the associated peeps.
11. Cleavage.
12. Music - that I've found, that other people have led me to.
13. Tacos.
14. The saddest lesbian, the saddest percolator, on the top of my Escalade, and inside jokes.
15. Spending time by myself, not having to make time for someone else, self-sufficiency.
16. Salads.
17. I've got a kick-ass hairdresser. Not a negligible accomplishment, on my part or hers.
18. I know that somewhere out there are people who like me, love me, desire me, fear me, hate me, admire me. I may be lonely but I'm far from alone.
19. Cleaning the bathroom, especially post-chuff. Weird, I know, but oh! the shiny porcelain.
20. Reading. This kind of went downhill while I was a grad student but I'm starting to get back in the habit of always having at least one good book going.
21. Dancing, at parties or by myself. Booty dancing, mostly. Oooh, and booty dancing music - the nastier the better.
22. Dirty jokes, filthy mouths, and the people who appreciate them.
23. Throwing parties for which it takes weeks to plan the menu and days to prepare it. Making big elaborate dinners for a bunch of people. Also, big Saturday breakfasts at our house when D grills bacon and bitches about us cooking the eggs too fast.
24. Deviled eggs, and their propensity to be part of nearly every meaningful family gathering.
25. Everything about Australia, except how far away it is.
26. The summer, hot and dirty weather, humidity. Yummy.
27. Shiny and sparkly things. Like a magpie or a packrat.
28. Making out, spooning, and the like. Or at least I seem to remember that those things made me happy. Maybe it will again someday, if I don't go the crazy rat-lady route.
29. Sleeping in late. Like afternoon late.
30. Burlesque shows - the cornier the better.

and one to grow on, so's to balance out the last such list:
31. Writing stuff for y'all to read. Awwwwww...........

Okay okay one more: I am in awe - absolute utter AWE - of this picture.

Picture caption: My mumsie's new babies, Yogi and Booboo. I'll come by the crazy rat-lady role through genetics, it seems.

Throw your body down

Musical evidence that the unanticipated shouldn't be the undesired:

Roots Manuva "Run come save me" - I was first introduced to Roots Manuva shortly after its debut in 2001 via a video for "Witness (One Hope)" on some random DVD from some random zine that my then-partner picked up (randomly). I loved the song, the video is heelarious and it plus various other tracks on the DVD (Select #5) became part of the Thanksgiving tradition now running 7 years strong with S, J & K, B and el señor B. J and I are the only two original playas left, incidentally. The first time I perused through J the V's music collection, roughly 5 years later, he by chance came across and suggested I try the full album. Borrowed it. Loved it. My favorite track is "Join the Dots" f. Chali 2na of J5 'cause the beats is bumpin' and Mr. 2na's voice makes me wanna do it. The music is dub/dancehall reminiscent hip-hop with some pretty complex rhythmic themes, and Roots' British accent adds an interesting flavor to the mix. Non-American rappers always sound a little weird to me - ever heard Turkish-German rap? - crazy. I just borrowed the dub remix of this album (Dub come save me) and haven't had much of a chance to listen yet, but what I've heard so far is promising. [Later: All four sides of this album are excellent. Good dinner party music.]

Sin Ropas "Trickboxes on the pony line" - I haphazardly picked this album out of the rock box at WSUM in 2003 to review because it was in a non-standard jewel case and I liked the label name (Sad Robot). Took it home, reviewed it as I washed a mountain of dishes, and fell in love with it. This album is not for everybody. In fact, the only other people I've known who have liked it were DJs with experimental rock shows. The music itself is slow, weird, dissonant, dark and moody, has some strange but compelling sounds and is really great to wash a mess of dishes to at high volume. And as far as experimental rock goes, it's not too obtuse of a listen - there is obvious melody, beat, and pattern throughout. A fortuitous pick, I count this as one of the jewels of discovery from my time at WSUM.

Come sun, come rain, come hailstone pelt.

Man, it is rough getting up at 6am on a Saturday morning. Especially when WPR is telling me it's a whopping 33°F outside, and not a lot warmer in my room besides. The East Bluff was nothing short of a clusterfuck - nobody warned us it was annoying large guided climbing group extravaganza weekend - and I didn't even get on Flake Route as planned (it turns out I could have, but that's a whole other story that involves feeling stabby). We set up Orgasm (5.8) and Orgasm Direct (5.11b), which I haven't attempted in years. I didn't even set a rope, which means I'd hauled a 40 lb. pack all the way up the CCC trail for naught other than to offend my poor knees.

I remember thinking previously how ridiculous getting over the roof on Orgasm was due to a serious lack of good footholds. The roof went easy this time around, although I did still struggle a bit getting my feet over, so I guess I've adapted to the classic DLSP-type climb over the years. R sent the Direct route without much apparent effort, but it's been his nemesis for a while so he's got the sequence down cold. I banged away at it for a good half hour at least, alternating fantastic swings and hang-dogging with moves of ultimate desperation. It was a brilliant climb and I think I'll project that one also, so now I've got 2 East Bluff projects. I'm still amazed to even be attempting anything in the 5.11 range.

R and I left the lake early for a wedding in BFE, WI - the first of two I was to attend this weekend. Both weddings were pretty decent, as weddings go, but in general I despise weddings: the formalism, the ritualism, the fucking theatrical displays of socially acceptable love, ugh. Took some good pictures with those disposable cameras everyone puts on the dinner tables these days, though. At N's wedding, got cleavage shots of everybody around our table and then N squeezing 'em together himself! That dude's a champion. Also took a few good pics of el señor B's ass in some very tight jeans. Only a fool would trust any of us with a camera. I wish I would have brought my digital camera to either wedding, 'cause I'll never see any of those pictures.
2007 Dating Ban update: I feel very relaxed. This was a good move.

And now: photo captions for the weekend my parents came to visit. 1. A funny face from me. I'm pretty sure this is how I look most of the time, if only because people frequently ask me to re-make some face that I didn't even know I'd made. 2. Mumsie & Pfather. Now you know where I get it from. 3. What are those? Why, they're J the V's arm warmers! Kept the skeeters off and my legs warm! More proof that ridiculous is the look I tend to favor.

You are my sweetest downfall

I had one project for each of the west bluff, east bluff, and old sandstone areas this summer.

Early on in the season I cleaned up on my old sandstone project, Baker Street: a long, slightly slabby, sequency beast consisting of teensy crimp followed by even teensier crimp. I've seen it toss off many a climber used to ascending tougher stuff than its 5.10d rating would suggest. It was actually my project from the previous summer, but I didn't climb much that year and could never remember where the nearly invisible intermediate holds were.

Last weekend D, U and I headed over to the site of my project there. Coup d'Etat, at 5.11a/b, is my most ambitious project to date, even if it is rather short. There's just no feet to the thing, and the nasty thin finger crack causes even a crack-lover like me pause. With some fancy footwork, two tries, and a whole lot of much-appreciated shouting from D and U, I finally clawed my way up that one. That success made up for getting spooked on Son of Great Chimney (on top-rope nonetheless) and demanding to be set down later in the day.

After that victory, I feel ready to challenge my east bluff project tomorrow: Flake Route, a classic Devil's Lake quartzite climb. She's dead vertical with tiny crimps, long reaches, and real balancy, too. I've been on her twice previously this summer and just haven't been able to power through the end. I'll let you know how that goes - wish me luck.

Today I am just trashed from too much activity and not enough sleep yesterday. Rode Little Red the ~ 6.5 mi into campus, with 20 mph gusts pushing against me, to meet el señor B to try out a yoga/pilates class at the SERF. It was a decent class, I think we're going to both try to incorporate it into our weekly workout. Did some easy biking mid-day just to get around campus and then biked home, against the wind again.* Then went on to the climbing gym where I didn't exactly throw down, but I didn't take it easy either. Made it to bed at a decent time but got woken up twice in the wee hours of the morning by drunk people and then whiny cats. The bike ride coming in today was sick. I actually dismounted for a couple blocks after nearly falling over in the wind.

I think I'll make Sunday a total rest day.

Oooh yeah, I just bought a ticket to Puerto Rico for vacation. Iffin anyone has tips on things I should do while I'm there (other than sit on the beach, which I plan to do plenty of), lemme know.

Finally, to your left is a weird rice/banana/bean-based dessert I got from Angkor Market for a dinner I made for D, L and M. It was about as tasty as it is visually appealing. In my own defense, it was wrapped in a banana leaf when I bought it so I really had no idea what to expect. I like the picture anyway, though, because it reminds me of one of my favorite coffee-table books.

*It's a shitty fact about biking in Madison: even though the town itself is really bike-friendly, the wind is not. 90% of the time there's at least a 10 mph wind going, thanks to the lakes I think, and it shifts during the day such that I'm pushing against it 99% of the time. I really should get a better commuter bike - you know, one with multiple gears that weighs less than 50 lbs. But how would I ever find anything as stylin' as Little Red?

In which I whine about stuff that's neither original nor noteworthy but it's mine

After 11 years with the same person, I got dumped nearly a year ago now. Although the true end took quite a while longer to come around due to a really awful and obviously unsuccessful attempt to patch things up. If we go by that end date, then I'm only clocking in as a truly single lady for about 7 months. It was most likely the right thing to happen - we just didn't work well together any more, if we ever did. But that doesn't stop me from missing S. That makes sense being that over a third of my life was built with him and he's the only person who's known me for my entire adult experience, at least up until 7 months ago. But I had thought (hoped?) that he wouldn't still be factoring into my life by now, and here I am writing a fricking blog entry about how I still miss him and think about him most days (not all, though, not all).

Things that make me miss him in particular:

--Going to a party/dinner/gathering and noticing that I'm the only uncoupled person there and/or attending any sort of "hey look at us we're so happy together" event such as a wedding, anniversary party, etc. It makes me want to kick people. Fuck (apparently) happy couples.

--Rainy days (like yesterday) make me pretty much want to cry all day long.

--A whole lot of music that either he introduced me to or even vice-versa, or that we both just liked. Also, pretty much any song about relationships gone bad which, in case you've never paid attention, is most music. I'm quite jealous of Frippy, who has somehow gotten around this common symptom.

--Being sick or just generally not feeling well. It's not that there's nobody who will bring me soup, or rub my hair, or give me a hug, or do any variety of things that are done to make sick/sad people feel better, but there's nobody who will always do it without me asking them to first.

Even missing S on such occasions, I have no desire to stick anyone else in his former role just yet or maybe even ever. Not that it has stopped me from trying, but each attempt has resulted in me flipping out when faced with the remotest hint of a possibility of developing any sort of intimate (and I mean psychologically here) relationship. As such, I'm officially instituting a dating ban for at least the rest of 2007. That's right. Fuck it. It's for the greater good. If the ban goes well, I may just declare myself the crazy old spinster rat-lady from here on out. I think I'd be okay with that.

I'm really quite the antisocial person. If I don't have significant chunks of each and every day entirely to myself then I turn cranky fast. I'm in the middle of a serious hermitic phase at the moment. I'd just rather be sitting by myself, or eating by myself, or reading a book or watching a movie by myself, or having a solo dance party, or playing with Toot and Ollie (my rats) all alone than doing any of it with company. I've been forcing a social life on myself recently anyway, in case you're all "Dude, I've totally been hanging out with you lately, Dr. 1%", but it's been requiring a whole lot of effort. Perhaps I should amend my description: I am a social misanthrope. That is, I do like social interactions, at least in moderation, but I'm readily annoyed. If I were to sketch out a representation of my irritability, it would look like:Which is why I usually show up late to parties and then leave early. I'm pretty sure it's why me and el señor B and other good friends of mine get along so well - we're all a bunch of surly mofos. Cantankerous jerks of the upper midwest UNITE!

Addendum: Saw S on the bike path the next evening - in fact, got stuck at a long light with him. Wasn't too bad, first time I haven't cried after such an encounter. YAY ME.

Addendum to addendum: Had another S encounter, leading me to realize that actually, I'm over him now. I mean, I'm still all kinds of fucked up in the relationship arena, but now it's all on me and situations and not on him anymore. That's a good thing, I suppose?

That's why they're called business socks - oooh!

Summer turns to fall
But, Kronos Workforce Central®,
You remain - that sucks.

This probably does not interest anybody except me. My blog - screw you suckas.

For the last several days I've been eating like a regent. This is kind of a brag-blag entry. Read 'em and drool.

Thursday: I had some okra and wax beans from the farmer's market, as well as some tomatoes from my parents' garden, that needed to be used up before I went to MN for the weekend. So I fried it all up in some Indian spices and ate with rice. I LOVE okra. I would marry it if I could. It reminds me of being a kid and eating it pickled with my dad. I'm going back to the farmer's market for more this weekend.

Friday: Upon arrival in MN, was treated to a feast by B, L, and T. Amongst the offerings were homemade hummus, baba ganouj and mahamara with pita and veggies, a variety of unusual cheeses, some kind of lentil pilaf, spanakopita, huge chunks of feta, a parsnip stew (usually I hate parsnips but this was yummy) with Israeli couscous, dolmades stuffed in collards instead of grape leaves, lemon mousse, pistachio-white chocolate shortbread, chocolate-ginger banana bread, my okra leftovers and probably more that I'm forgetting at the moment. It was excellent and I stuffed myself silly. Here's B, me and L post-gluttony:
Saturday: B & I shared a late breakfast of huevos rancheros, buckwheat pancakes and coffee at the Seward Café. Six of us went for dinner at Evergreen Taiwanese Restaurant and shared cold, vinegared kelp knots and lotus root, Three Cup Tofu (oh. my. gawd.), Singapore curry noodles, garlic green beans, garlic eggplant, some kind of tofu/red pepper dish and a curry seitan dish. It was amazingly good and I will be going back there whenever I'm in Minneapolis again. Later at the party was lots of cheese (blueberry, horseradish, various bries, 10-yr cheddar and more) and beer, mostly local (WI and MN).

Sunday: Breakfast made for me - TWICE! First J & K invited B and I over for Florentine omelets, hashbrowns, muesli'n'yogurt, tea'n'coffee'n'juice. We weren't even expecting to be fed, it was a nice surprise and I won't see those kids again until Thanksgiving, when el señor B and I will host them for a feast. Then off to T & L's again for sautéed veggies with tofu and eggs, lemon scones, blueberry muffins, various leftovers from Friday night and more coffee.

Monday: Back at home, had a wind-down day all to myself but then decided to invite el señor B over for dinner to use up some more produce getting ready to go bad. A proper southern-midwest spread of corn-on-the-cob, mac'n'cheese with broccoli, more okra, and collard greens from T & L's garden with onions and chorizo. Had blackberry applesauce and cocoa-nut muffins for dessert (B - remind me to give you that muffin recipe along with the bran-jam one)

Tuesday: The gorgeous E invited el señor B and I over for dinner just 'cause she's that sweet. There was a variety of breads with olive oil & balsamic in a little dipping dish just like at the restaurants, some crazy spicy casserole dish that was full of all kinds of unidentifiable veggies but it was good (it had beets in it and normally I despise beets, but I liked this anyway), some yummy white bean mixture with dressing and roasted yams. There were cocoa almonds for dessert and also some beet-apple-pear crisp but I wasn't willing to go that far with the beet thang. Got home and my roomie D had made a white chili. He and J had made a bit of an error with the cayenne measurements (little "t" = teaspoon) so it was very spicy but still very good.

I tried to warn you that this was probably not of interest to anyone but me, but I really wanted to have a record of the incredible eating I've been doing over the last week. I'd been trying to gain a few pounds, perhaps if I'm feeling lucky I'll weigh myself at the gym this week to see if I've made any headway.

Roblovesclownporndotnet

I've got a spoon, a soup spoon, a fork, and some rough bamboo chopsticks in my top drawer at work. These utensils are for eating my lunch, and that's what I use them for. I never wash them. When I'm done eating I just lick and then wipe them off with a napkin. Sometimes more than once if necessary, like if I ate something cheesy. Now these utensils have only been around for about 2 months, but I'm pretty sure I used the same pair of chopsticks for over 3 years in my last office without ever washing 'em proper. I think that this builds character, as well as a healthy immune system. My previous office mate, C (hey girl, drop us a line from the isles), thought it disgusting. On the few occasions when she was desperate enough to borrow silverware from me, she washed and then disinfected them with 200-proof ethanol. The joys of working in a chemical lab included very unsafely keeping wash bottles of 200-proof ethanol at our desks. I cringe to think of the highly evolved cultures that were lost during the rare occasion of disinfection. Maybe I had been on track to discover the next penicillin. Also, I miss that ethanol wash bottle - I should have brought it with me. Above: the Michel-Levy chart, a handy tool in light microscopy of thin films of birefringent materials such as liquid crystals.

Life could be a dream, sweetheart

To continue the story of the loneliest Cheeto...


At some point after the climbing trip (or perhaps it was later in the same trip - once again my memory fails me on the finer points), el señor B found a single Cheeto underneath the driver's seat of his car, accused me of being responsible, and ordered me to pick it up. I countered that he himself had eaten the second half of the bag of Cheetos®, and as such was just as likely - nay more likely than I - to have dropped the offending morsel. Why? I offer, as evidence, point number one: the Cheeto was under his seat, and point number two: I am a delicate eater. I eat my Cheetos® one at a time and would definitely notice were I to drop one. El señor B, on the other hand, merely opens his maw wide to dump the contents of the bag in.

Now, had el señor B said something to the effect of "Dear lady, being that you are more compact than I, would you kindly wriggle beneath the seat to retrieve that thar Cheeto of uncertain origin", then I probably would have done so gladly. But his condescending tone of reproachfulness, combined with the fact that I did not drop that damn Cheeto, led me instead to reply something to the effect of "I'm not picking up that fucking Cheeto".

This led to quite the heated Cheeto argument, and for months, every time I got into his car, he would rail at me to pick up that stupid Cheeto. On principle, I continued to refuse. Soon the name calling began: dirty Cheeto dropper, whore of the Cheeto, Cheeto sandbagger, and the like. He told the story - inaccurately - to anyone who would listen, all in an attempt to sully my good name.

Eventually, notes began to appear on my desk at work when I was away from it.

Upon seeing a tiny bag of Cheetos® on my desk:
"Proof! Proof! Cheeto dropper! No love (as indicated by a heart with a line through it), Bond"

Going through a haiku phase:
"You Katie Badsmell / Toes of raisin in morning / You dropped that Cheeto". I have no idea what the raisin toes bit was all about; I guess he needed a line with seven syllables?

And then one day, an actual Cheeto on my keyboard with the accompanying note "Oops! I dropped a Cheeto!"

Some would be disturbed by such behavior, but grad students look forward to just about any form of amusement at work, so I tolerated the abuse. At some point, years later, I finally agreed to stoop down to pick up that lousy Cheeto just to get el señor B to shut up about it once and for all. But it was too late, for the lonely Cheeto had turned to dust - gone to Cheeto heaven, if you will. RIP, little Cheeto buddy.

Today I am sad

It's probably just the weather, or that I listened to the wrong song today, or that I didn't have any coffee when I got up. I'm not very good at being sad, though. Truly it is something that, with a few great exceptions, I generally half-ass. So today I am half-assed sad. The other half of my ass is rolling it's eyes.

But tonight my parents are visiting from Misery, so I'm sure good stories will ensue. Also, I promise to finish my story about the Cheetos® soon.

Kronos Workforce Central®: I am going to time travel to preemptively murder the parents of your developers such that you are never encoded!

For years now, el señor B and I have had a major disagreement. Our point of contention: one lonely Cheeto (I propose that this is the proper singular form for the crunchy, artificially cheese-flavored corn puffs known as Cheetos®). I wish that this was going to be a hilarious story illustrating just how cool I am but no; no, it's merely narrative proof of el señor B's penchant for holding long-term grudges over dubious circumstances.

I myself prefer the crunchy variety of Cheetos®, not the poofy ones. And I don't mean poofy the way those crazy Brits and Aussies mean it.

The story finally begins thus: we were on a climbing trip. I don't remember where, although I'm sure el señor B does, but for the sake of simplicity let us assume it was Devil's Lake. We stopped at a gas station for snacks. Somehow junk food actually tastes good to me on climbing trips, and so I opted for a smallish bag of Cheetos®. Now normally I don't eat much of that kind of junk and after half of the bag, feeling rather ill, I bequeathed the remaining portion of Cheetos® to el señor B. Graciously, he accepted my gift, which did not surprise me as his eating abilities are one of the many reasons I admire him. I passed the bag from my position at the rear of the driver's seat up to el señor B, who was driving since it was his car we were traveling in. As far as I was concerned, that was the last anyone would ever hear about the Cheetos®.

I was wrong.

So wrong.

If there was a time or place - it's so long over now

My roomie D has been at it again, influencing me and stuff; to wit, lots of very loud and heavy music. At least he didn't similarly share his strep throat, as he was laid up sick all last week and I was concurrently working from home. Some notable listens of late, all best heard utilizing a very nice sound system:

Botch - "We are the Romans"
Mathcore? Not sure what you'd call it, but it's loud, hard and mathy, and that's all I need to know. I listened to it on the bleak bus ride in to work on Tuesday morning, and it made me happy.

Eyes Upon Separation - "I hope she's having nightmares"
Also really mathy, with some incredibly fast guitar work. But also more of a sludgy feel at times. D says the lyrics are all emo and stupid, but as with all metal vocals that I like, I can't tell what he's screaming about anyway.

Pelican - "City of Echoes"
Not so metal-y. Rather loud, dynamic, melodic instrumental rock. Yummy.

Last night I made TACOS for roomie D, J, and J the V. Until you have eaten my TACOS, you have never properly had tacos. It's all the extra love I put in 'em. Dinner was quite excellent, we all ate way too much, and the rest of the evening was spent in pleasant company. Tonight I have another food plan. A plan...of muffins! Yes! Inspired by the lurvely B, I'm gonna bake all night long. I may even need to buy a new muffin pan - I've wanted one of those fancy silicone ones for a while now. I'm leaving this entry open to commenting, so that if you want to share with me a fabulous muffin recipe, then you will be able. I've got plans for 3 different muffins already tonight, but there's always Saturday for further muffin adventures if climbing gets rained out (looking likely - poo).

I've been trying to post this entry all week long, but I'm simultaneously too busy and too lazy to finish it, so I'll just save the rest for a future date.

For $25, this better make one hell of a good story at least

Gah! I really should get a date book or a PDA or something. As referenced in #23, I'm continually overbooking myself. I think I told 3 people I'd hang out with them tonight, and quite unfortunately none of them know each other at all. So unless they all want to go out to dinner with me together (it might could happen), then I'm going to have to cancel on somebody. I am a bad bad friend. Maybe someone will cancel on me instead and then they never have to know about my swiss-cheese-memory (continually referenced by el señor B and R)...oooh, unless they read this. Oh well.

In other news, life is pretty great. Not to be overly obnoxious about it or anything, but on the whole I am happy. After an uncharacteristic and extended period of unhappy that went pretty much from last spring until this spring, it is a great relief.

Also, I just figured out how to get an ñ using a Mac. Okay, so once I put my mind to it, it took all of 3 min to accomplish, but it's been bugging me for a while. Now I'm going to go back and replace all of the instances of "senor" with señor. Fantastic - this plus a cup of coffee with el señor B will make my day.

Adventures in Melbourne's Tram System

More proof that art is an unlikely back-up plan for my future. You'll probably have to click on the image to see the text large enough. A true story! NATO drew the trams and buildings, I pretty much drew the rest. Text was decided by consensus on just how it all went down. My feet really hurt at the end of that day, and we never did make it to the festival at St. Kilda. And then, after traipsing around Melbourne all afternoonevening in search of an eatery, we got lousy service at an Italian joint mere blocks from our starting point. At least the cool-ass park was cool: the ~kilometer-long path down the middle was tree-lined and dipped in the center so it looked like you were in a park bowl from the middle. None of our photographs quite captured it right, though.

I like the idea of using drawings as a travel journal. If we hadn't drawn this triptych, I probably would have (purposely) forgotten all about this day.

Kronos Workforce Central(R) - you are a pain in the ass. I'll approve your timecard!

A note on the liquid crystal "art" pictures that I post. Several people have inquired as to how I get these lovely photos, so here's the skinny:

1. Do some sort of surface modification on glass, gold, or polyurethane that I have reason to believe will lead to a particular liquid crystal orientation (and thus, appearance).
2. Apply liquid crystals to these surfaces. Most commonly, I use 5CB, 8CB or E7.
3. View results via polarized transmission microscopy. Usually the pics are at 10X or 20X magnification, as those tend to get the best "artsy" results, but some are at 4X or 50X. Hunt around for something I like and then take a digital picture.

So really, I never know if I'm going to find anything good from a particular sample, although I've found certain combinations of surface modification and liquid crystal are more likely to lead to something striking. Also, I've found that the less scientific significance a sample has, the more likely it is to be visually interesting. Rephrased: fuck-ups in science lead to success in art, at least in my case. The picture in today's post is 8CB on an HS(CH2)10COOH self-assembled monolayer on gold, I think at 50X mag (maybe 20X). If you click on it to view the larger image, you can more clearly see the colored bits (how's that for art-speak) that I really liked in this sample.

8CB is probably my favorite liquid crystal, if I were forced to choose a favorite. Nothing like a good room-temperature smectic A phase, hoo boy.

"Conversations on the topic of Fresh Pussy" or "Why El Señor B is my bestest friend"

Just wanted to point out that I added a new blog link to Post Secrets. Holy crap, I want to send in a postcard now. But what will my secret be? Will you, my dedicated readers, know which one is mine if it gets put up?

Not much satisfies me like a freshly mopped floor

Hello, my lovelies. I've been feelin' a tad antisocial of late, too antisocial even for blogging. Only people on my regular schedule have been seeing me at all, it feels like. I tried to break out of my misanthropic shell on Saturday night, invited out by a friend, J the V, to go see a show. Arrived at the club, knowing I'd beat his ever-late ass there, ordered a gimlet (the Corral Room makes a pretty fine gimlet, incidentally) and began to chat with some random dude because why not is why. Thirty seconds later I looked up to observe the arrival of the last person on earth I care to ever see again.

"Of [all the nights in] all the gin joints in all the ports in all the world, [he] had to come walking into mine".

Okay, okay, I had to butcher that quote to make it fit, but the sentiment was right. I mean, I've been avoiding shows for months now in anticipation of this unlucky coincidence - what were the odds on a show that wasn't even advertised? I had every right to stay there. I paid the cover. I got there first. But I went to the patio outside, drained my double gin and fled to el señor B's, where an odd movie, a tasty beer and some surly company raised my spirits a bit. I wasn't going to enjoy myself at the show after that anyway.

I've been out to the crags every weekend for the last 6 weeks. Have hit up all the major bluffs at DLSP, been to the Dodge, Nekkiduh and even an out-of-town gym this summer. I can't believe I wasted last summer being all "depressed" and shit and hardly climbing at all. This coming weekend, D is taking me bouldering somewhere 'round Wausau. Me and a bunch of burly freakin' boulderers. I shall try not to shame myself - it's been a while since I bouldered out-of-doors and it'll mess with your head. Here is a picture of me looking all sorts of burly on one of my new projects. This climb (Coup d'Etat, 5.11b) is a filthy little footless finger crack that kicked my butt royally. It was brilliant.

Hot weather makes me fall in love with every stranger I see on the street

Just a brief post about an album I've recently become enamored with. I owe my roomie D for introducing me to Josh Small's self-titled album (sorry, couldn't find the cover art online). It's a very simple, lo-fi folk album, just Josh and his banjo. He hasn't got the world's greatest voice, but he can carry a decent tune and the lyrics are simple but beautiful. Who can resist a chorus (and title) of "Fall motherfuckers, fall"? This album in particular reminds me a lot of my favorite Bonnie "Prince" Billy album in style and content. I'm absolutely stuck on the first track, "Pushing boulders", and also "Look at me", which involves some additional...uh...instruments. Man, do I ever love banjo. Speaking of which, I should get some good bluegrass. The kind with sinister banjo. You know what I'm talking about.

D has also been slowly converting me to Linux. I've never doubted that it is superior to Windows or even Mac OS's/applications, but it's got one hell of a learning curve. Luckily D is one patient dude, at least with this computer-retard.

too much to write, so I take the easy way out