My Hidden Pony

2011-06-07T17:26:00.000-07:00

We had a free CPR course at work today and now I am officially certified! Pregnant women, infants, children, adults, the morbidly obese; you are all in good hands with me. I will pound the shit out of your heart.

During our training, I asked our office manager why we didn't have a defibrillator in the office and her response was "Too expensive." This gave me a frowny face. Also, the EMT who trained us was a total dreamboat.

Hi, how are you?

2011-03-16T15:18:00.000-07:00

Mrs. Nelson

2011-02-25T11:22:00.000-08:00

By the way, Prince and I are married now.

Let's Go Crazy

2011-02-22T08:31:00.000-08:00

Guess who I'm seeing tomorrow!

Brad is taking me to see Prince as an early birthday present! As an added bonus, if I end up making out with Prince or having his baby, Brad won't even get mad. I'm the luckiest girl in the world.

How Did I Get Here?

2011-02-09T08:46:00.000-08:00

This is Heidi the Cross Eyed Possum and I think we are soul mates because she looks how I feel most days. "DUR?" That's how I navigate through life. Did you know DIY homerepair is not as fun or as fast as This Old House makes it look? Hmm!

The Adventures of St. Louise

2011-01-13T12:45:00.000-08:00

Another day, another medical emergency. Today while walking down Market Street, I had to help a homeless man get through an epileptic seizure. At first I thought he and his friend had gotten into a fight, because Hobo 1 (Brian) had fallen violently to the ground with a loud thud. But after a few seconds it was pretty apparent that he was seizing. So I ran over and asked Hobo 2 (Robert) if I should call an ambulance. I didn't just call automatically because from past experiences I've learned that these episodes usually only last a minute or two and then are over with no real harm done as long as the person keeps breathing. I'm like the Seizure Whisperer.

So me and Robert stand there watching Brian to make sure he doesn't die when another passerby decides to call 911. The whole time, Robert is yelling at Brian, "HEY MAN, DON'T WORRY, you're just having an eclectic caesar! YOU'RE GONNA BE OKAY, just relax, man." And I really wanted to laugh because it sounded like Brian was just having an wacky salad instead of a medical emergency, but that would have been rude so I refrained. Anyways, the ambulance came a few minutes later and by then Brian was already sitting up and breathing normally. He had a small gash on his head from when he fell over, but otherwise he seemed fine. I learned their names when the medics were talking to them. Then everything seemed under control, so I left.

On a side note, before I got there, a lot of people just looked at Brian and kept on walking. I know homeless people are gross and smell awful and sometimes are totally insane, but what kind of heartless asshole sees someone having a seizure on the street and doesn't stop to offer some kind of assistance? Honestly, some people have no manners. Even if you are an asshole, you should help anyways because there could be hidden cameras for that show What Would You Do? watching and if you just walk on by, the whole nation will know what a crap person you are. So remember that the next time you leave a hobo to die in the streets.

Finally

2010-12-21T16:54:00.000-08:00

I have a house! Phew, that took POR-EVER (I've been looking for about two years.) I'll officially get the keys into my grubby little hands next week. The fact that I've poured my life savings into this place makes me want to barf all over myself. No matter, I'll have my DISHWASHER to comfort me. I've calculated that having a dishwasher will improve my overall happiness by at least 60%. I can't wait.

I'm sad that Steve couldn't make it to the new house, but at least he had a chance to visit it before he passed away. We're going to have a little memorial service for him in the garden and bury some of his ashes under a tree. That way his ghost can help chase away any bad spirits that are lingering in the house. Ghost Steve is always looking out for me!

Gone Home

2010-11-30T15:20:00.000-08:00

Yesterday morning, November 29th around 6:30 AM, we said goodbye to little Steven. At 19 years old, his health was understandably in decline and he let us know it was time to go. As always, he was brave and dignified to the very end.

Goodbye, old friend. You were the best dog ever and I will miss you very much.

2010-11-10T09:41:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I had to get my cholesterol tested. While I was waiting for my results to pop up, I decided to make small talk with the lab lady.

"Sooo....are you a nurse or what."
"Nope, I'm a phlebotomist."
"A lobotomist. That's cool."

And then I wanted to yell, "FLUH. I meant FLUH-BOTOMIST." But it was too late! Now she is probably hanging out with her lab friends and laughing at the dummy who called her a lobotomist.

Mama

2010-10-27T10:10:00.000-07:00

I am often very worried that I will accidentally call one of my bosses Mom or Dad. But not because I see them as work surrogates for my real family. It's because one time in high school, I tried to call out to my friend Dave, but I stumbled over my words and yelled out "DAD!" instead. That is really not a thing you should do in high school. As a result, I have spent an inordinate amount of my adult life worrying about Freudian slips. That cruel, mocking laughter will stay in my mind forever.

Cold Hearted Snake

2010-09-14T16:59:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I went to the doctor's to get some routine bloodwork done for my annual checkup. I scheduled an appointment at the ass crack of dawn to avoid the rush at the blood lab. Before I left, I woke Brad up to say goodbye. What's funny about waking Brad up in the morning is that he will be awake physically, but mentally he will still be dead asleep. So occasionally I like to delve into his subconscious by jolting him awake in the morning and having conversations with him. Here's how this one went:

Me: BRAD! I'm going to the hospital to get tested.
B: Huh? AIDS?!
Me: Yes.
B: SNAKES?
Me: Yep. Bye, dear.
B: Zzzzzz......

So now we all know what Brad really thinks about me. Apparently I have snakes and disease coursing through my veins, like some unholy she-devil. Thanks, honey pie.

Rat Race

2010-09-01T13:39:00.000-07:00

Do you know what is really great? Brad started his new job this week! Huzzah! And it's not some shitty soul crushing job, it's actually a really nice one that you can talk about with pride. The kind of job where you get money for a mouth doctor to look at your teefs. Brad is the new systems administrator for a non-profit group. Has a nice respectable ring to it, doesn't it?

2010-08-31T16:01:00.000-07:00

Do you know what is terrible? All day staff meetings. Do you know what is worse? Two all day staff meetings back to back. Holy crap it was the most boring of boring things. I made good use of this time by drawing child/animal hybrids.
The meeting topic was regarding our firm being bought by a giant architectural behemoth. Now I am an even bigger corporate meatbag than before. I am totally fine with that because now our benefits are on steroids. You can just call me Mrs. C. Meatbag from now on.

I couldn't think of anymore good animals after octopus and deer, so I drew a bran muffin.

After our meeting, the people who were sitting behind me told me they very much enjoyed watching me draw mutants and muffins all day. Validation!

High Class

2010-08-23T10:07:00.000-07:00

Last week while walking Steve, I found a bag of weed on the street. I picked it up, declared it "too leafy" and tossed it back on the ground for some less discerning schmuck to find. I think this is how you can tell that you've really made it in life. There was a time when this would have made my day. Now that I am a cultured and refined lady, common sidewalk weed just won't do.

Silver Linings

2010-08-13T11:17:00.000-07:00

I've been a busy bee at work! The other day, while we were all working on a particularly grueling set of drawings, my coworker turned to me and asked if I was having fun. "Not really." I said. She tilted her head thoughtfully and replied "Well, think about it this way. At least you didn't apply to a waitressing job only to find out that the job was fake and you were actually going to be forced into sex slavery. Hmmm?"

I guess when you look at it that way, things don't look so bad after all. Thanks, weird coworker.

Cartoon Dog Sings the Blues

2010-07-31T09:52:00.000-07:00

Last weekend Brad and I bumped into Tom Waits at the Hotel Utah. He wasn't playing, he was just there to see the local opening band. I know this dude is like a god to some people, but I think he's kind of silly, so the celebrity sighting was probably wasted on me. Still, he is a good-looking man, so I gave him one of my prettiest smiles and he grimaced back.

I was there to see Miniature Tigers. They were okay, but their 80s outfits made me twitch. I hate sartorial irony.

The Face of Defeat

2010-07-30T16:04:00.000-07:00

One of the most depressing things ever is when the dish you brought to the office potluck goes mostly untouched and then you have to lug the whole giant bowl back home and eat that sad crap for the next two weeks. It is positively humiliating! See you in hell, Sesame Noodles with Shredded Chicken.

I'm Melting

2010-07-29T16:49:00.000-07:00

Today my friend Jen took me to the American Grilled Cheese Kitchen for lunch. Excuse me, did we all die and go to heaven? I'm thinking maybe yes. I got the Mushroom Gruyère sandwich, which has fontina, gruyère, roasted wild mushrooms and gold potatoes, melted leeks, caramelized onions, and thyme butter. I also got their house made black cherry soda. If I am ever on death row, I am going to request this as my last meal.

Woebegone

2010-07-20T16:08:00.000-07:00

I call this drawing "A Gloomy Day in Lilliput." Ohhhh ballllls. Say that in your best Eeyore voice and I promise you will feel better!

New Hobbies

2010-07-16T15:04:00.000-07:00

I am pursuing a new LIFE GOOOOOAAAL! And that goal is trumpet playing. It's something I've wanted to do for years, and I figure it's about time I got started. No trumpet (or cornet) yet, but I've done some preliminary research and I'm leaning towards a used Olds Ambassador. If you know of anyone getting rid of one for cheap, let me know! In the meantime, I will be scouring Ebay and Craigslist.

Even though I fancy myself to be a musical prodigy, I will probably have to take some lessons since trumpet seems to be a difficult instrument to learn on your own. Fortunately, Brad was a pretty good trombone player back in the day and he's been helping me with my embouchure (or trumpet duck face as I call it.) I am going to try playing his trombone next time we are in Visalia. That was not a blowjob euphemism.

Here is some Satchmo to make you feel all sentimental inside. Brad said I will never be this good. Sometimes he likes to crush my soul just for fun.

You're A Wizzard, Harry

2010-07-14T16:29:00.000-07:00

I hate seeing kids pee in public.

Cheez Products

2010-07-13T08:50:00.000-07:00

Licking Cheeto dust off your fingers is a vulgar but necessary fact of life. Don't go wiping it off with a napkin like a prissy nancy boy. People will think less of you.

Hot Stuff

2010-07-01T14:01:00.000-07:00

The other day my Taco Bell cashier told me that I was cute when I smiled. Which would have been kind of flattering if my cashier was some fine young thing, but she wasn't. She looked like Madam Mim. I'm glad Brad likes me because my other prospects are not looking so good these days.

Neighbors

2010-06-24T14:32:00.000-07:00

The other night when I was about to take Steve down for a bathroom break, my neighbor got some bug up her ass and decided to get all chummy and invite me into her apartment. WHY. So awkward. Doesn't she realize that some people might have social anxiety issues or might be really high when you see them shuffling down the hallway? Honestly.
So we go in and I am holding onto Steve for dear life. My neighbor really does kind of look like Mariah Carey when she was in Precious. The first thing I noticed was how nice her things were. I guess some people actually pay money for their furniture instead of salvaging it off the street. So then I felt inadequate. And then I was angry at her for putting on airs about her fine belongings. And then I was freaked out by how many cats she had. Four cats is too many!

The tour continued to her boudoir and I became highly agitated because I don't like being in the bedrooms of people I don't know very well. Bedrooms are such private places. I might as well see you naked. Then she starts talking about some highly uncomfortable shit, like her dad dying recently, her abusive ex-boyfriend, and higher powers in the universe. Did I mention I was really high? Because I was. And her big shiny satin bra hanging in her closet kept catching my eye while she was talking about her stupid spirituality. And then she noticed that my eyes kept darting into her closet so she looked too and I was like Great, now she knows I'm a pervert.

Finally, after about 15 minutes of talking about feelings, she saw me out and said she wanted to invite me and Brad over for wine some time. No thanks, lady. Not in a million bajillion years.

Saving Energy Is for Ugly People

2010-06-21T16:39:00.000-07:00

Did you know they are going to start phasing out our beautiful incandescent light bulbs in the name of energy efficiency? Talk about UN-AMERICAN! Thomas Edison must be spinning in his grave. CFL bulbs are for commies.

Dags

2010-06-16T09:18:00.000-07:00

After four grueling days of boring-ass juror interviews, I was finally excused from jury duty! I was a little disappointed that I wouldn't be sending any scumbags to jail, but was glad that I didn't have to go to Hayward anymore. Hayward is seriously the butthole of the Bay Area.

The case was muy escandalo, it was about a pit bull mauling that happened two years ago (this one) and the county was charging the owners with criminal negligence. The details of the case were pretty gruesome; it involved a baby being hidden in a garbage can so the dog couldn't get to it. Jiminy Cricket! Instead of a scary dog mauling picture, here is my personal mad dog Steve acting the fool on a patch of grass. He loves his grass perfume!
Anyways, I think I was excused because I had disclosed that Roscoe and Greg used to foster pit bulls and I think the prosecution saw me as a pit bull sympathizer. Which I guess is true because I think they are really sweet dogs. It's just some of the jackass owners that give them a bad rap. I'm looking at you Michael Vick! You turd.

TESTIFY!

2010-06-07T16:19:00.000-07:00

Double dang, guys, I have jury duty. I tried my best to appear belligerent and justice-hating, but I was still selected. I sure wouldn't want a judgmental dingus such as myself on my jury, but I ain't no hot shot lawyer, so what do I know. No matter, it's my civic duty and I shall serve proudly. It should get more interesting once the trial starts, but holy crap, the whole jury selection process was boring to the point of insanity. I think I am going to be permanently crossed-eyed when this is all over. The plus side is that there is a lot of downtime, which means lots of drawing! The lawyers have already yelled out OBJECTION! a few times, and the judge replied SUSTAINED just like in Law & Order, so that made me glad and tingly all over. Not enough gavel action though. Disappointing.

I drew this in the hopes that someone would see it and declare me an unfit and biased juror, but no dice.

Es la ley, esse!

Pupperoni

2010-06-01T15:37:00.000-07:00

This is a dream Brad had the other night. Steve thought he was going to be a noble warrior, but actually we were just going to eat him with pepperoni. Brad, you sick fuck. Stay the hell away from my dog.

Just kidding! Steve loves you even though you dream about turning him into a pizza. MAMA MIA!

Band Of Horses - The Independent, 5/29

2010-06-01T11:06:00.000-07:00

This bearded fellow and his friends sure do know how to put on a good show. The Independent is a small venue for them, so it was extra boisterous.
I thought Mr. Birdsall looked like Charles "Pa" Ingalls, so I was immediately smitten.

"I'll trade your band of horses for a 100 bushels of corn."

I asked Brad if he thought these dudes got blown a lot and he said "Yes. Most definitely."

Here is a teeny little video!

Quality Alone Time

2010-05-22T20:34:00.000-07:00

I made my first claymation movie today! It's a hobby I've always wanted to pick up, but just never got around to. UNTIL NOW.

The music is "Parade" by The Knife. The animation is a little crude, but I think it was a good first effort. Next time I think I'll use Brad's SLR; the focus on my Powershot is all wonky from being dropped too many times. I'll also have to be more careful about accidentally moving things that are supposed to be stationary, like that little glass jar that keeps turning on its own.

This 45-second video took about 5 hours from start to finish. This is probably why I don't have many friends. No matter! I have MY IMAGINATION. Wheee!

Kindred Spirits

2010-05-13T10:23:00.000-07:00

I came across a kindred spirit yesterday. While waiting to cross the street, I saw a man furiously pedaling his bike against the breeze. Suddenly he yelled, "FUCK THIS WIND!" (I hate wind too!) He continued pedaling and then bellowed "FUCK THIS UNIVERSITY!" (I say that every single day). Then he shook his fist at the building behind me. He wasn't joking around either, he seemed genuinely enraged. If I wasn't already spoken for I might have proposed to him.

Stick A Fork In It

2010-05-05T09:00:00.000-07:00

Sometimes
when I go back and read old posts
I am filled with self-loathing
and I want to write in prose
like this
Because that's what
dumb bloggers do

I'm going to try to limit my text to 100 words from now on. I don't want to be known as that rambling asshole with the stupid blog. (TOO LATE)

Pathological

2010-05-04T15:20:00.000-07:00

"Please accept this gift from the gnome people as a token of our friendship!"

When I was in second grade I had a four-color retractable ballpoint pen which was the envy of my pudgy desk mate, Chris. "Where did you get that pen!? It is SO COOL." After I swore him to secrecy, I told him a long fanciful story about how I had found a little hole on the side of my house where tiny people lived and they had made the pen for me. "REALLY?" Yes! "Can I come over to your house and get a pen too!?" NO, because I'm lying, you big dummy. Oh man, you should've seen his face.

Don't Touch Me

2010-04-30T14:23:00.001-07:00

FACT: I do not like people touching me. I will make exceptions for health reasons and loved ones, but I prefer everyone else to stay at arm's length. This is why I cut my own hair and why I have never gotten a manicure or a massage. The thought of someone clipping my fingernails is one of the creepiest thing I can imagine. I also hate when I am on public transportation and someone's butt spills over the seat and touches my butt. UGH, BUTT TOUCHING.

Wishes

2010-04-29T17:40:00.000-07:00

You Make Me Go "Oooooh"

2010-04-21T11:35:00.000-07:00

Brad and I are going to see Camera Obscura tonight at the Great American Music Hall! Another band I can check off my "to see" list. I love how the lead singer (Tracyanne Campbell) always seems so sad. She's my kind of girl. I like listening to them when I am feeling gloomy, which is pretty much always.

Love Potions

2010-04-18T09:52:00.000-07:00

Last week Roscoe sent me two scientist clip art images she found on the internet and asked if I could modify them to make look like her and Greg so she could use them as part of her wedding invitations. (They're both scientists; she's getting her PhD in microbiology and he's getting his in comparative pathology. How they fit all those brains into one house is a mystery to me.)

I decided to redraw both images from scratch so they would be cleaner-looking. Here is the end result:
Awww, love. This won't be used on the actual invitations; it's way too twee for formal invites, but Roscoe is thinking about using it on the save-the-date cards or something similar. Personally, I think we should make rub-on tattoos for the wedding party. But I'm not getting married or getting a PhD, so what do I know.

Original images:

Dear Hidden Pony...

2010-04-16T14:06:00.000-07:00

One day, while lamenting the fact that people don't write letters anymore, I thought "Hey, you know what would be neat? A prison pen pal!" It'd be pretty cool to have a convict for a friend, and it's practically community service, so I would get to feel really good about myself. I picked the first site that popped up on google and started my search for my new tough best friend.

After a few hours of fascinating research, I concluded that a prison pen pal would not work for me, mostly because I didn't want to get a PO box, but also because I didn't want the prisoner to come find me when he got released, like in that episode of Golden Girls where Blanche's prison pen pal ends up tying Sophia to a chair and stealing all of their silver. And most of them seem to be looking for a "special lady friend" to write dirty letters to, which I am definitely not interested in and probably wouldn't be very good at anyways. ("Ooh sugar, tell me about your sexy nards.")

But honestly, I feel kind of bad for some of the people that are just genuinely lonely. Especially for those that are in for non-violent crimes and seem to be reformed. They just want a friend! That's not so much to ask, is it? Sniff. Well, I'm sorry I'm such a cautious person, my little pound puppies. I hope you find a friend on the outside someday.

Yours truly,

MHP

Hors d'oeuvres!

2010-04-13T16:56:00.000-07:00

Specifically, retro 70's style hors d'oeuvres! Is there anything better? No, I don't think so. I don't know why the boss man insists on having our weekly team meetings right before lunch. This just results in a lot of food-related drawings in my notebook. Which is embarassing because it makes me look like a little pig who can't even sit through a one-hour meeting without daydreaming about my next meal.

Some other favorites that I didn't have time to draw:

Swedish meatballs (of the non-IKEA variety)
Bacon-wrapped water chestnuts
Stuffed mushrooms

Someday I will prepare an appetizer FEAST for myself and it will be the best day ever. I will have to wear my stretchy eating dress.

Spoon-fed

2010-04-11T10:24:00.000-07:00

We are currently learning about table manners in our household. I won't have Steven eating off the floor like an animal. We are not savages.

He figured out how to eat from the spoon in about 40 seconds. Not too shabby for a 19 year old dog! We have also been working on his speech and elocution, but so far all the little guy can manage is "Neeeerrruuuhhh." He always tries his best though, bless his heart.

(Don't worry, I don't really feed Steve like this. He just does it to make me laugh.)

Techniques & Stratagems

2010-04-07T16:05:00.000-07:00

If you are a young lady who routinely walks the mean streets of Oakland alone, you need a game plan in the event someone tries to relieve you of your wallet, or worse, all the blood in your body. For the record, I usually feel very safe when I'm walking around by myself; Oakland residents tend to keep to themselves as a matter of self-preservation. But if anyone starts getting cracky and wants to do unsavory things to me, here are the series of events that will occur, in order:
Step 1: Spray assailant's eyes with pepper spray
I always carry a small canister in my coat pocket and keep my thumb on the trigger at all times. I enjoy flicking the safety switch off and on and making hissing spray sound effects. "Sssssst! Ssst sssst!" Once I sprayed a bush to make sure the thing actually works. (It does.) If I ever have to use this, I fully intend on emptying the entire can into the cretin's eyes.

Step 2: Stab assailant at will
Another item I always carry is a folding hunting knife in my purse. Listen, scumbags are tough. They might just wipe the pepper spray out of their eyes and start chasing me. They will probably also be very mad at at this point that I hurt their eyes. That's why the stabbing is required. It's brutal, but you do what you gotta do.

Step 3: Run, scream, find help
This is where my plan gets a little tricky. If I were walking down the street and a screaming person covered in blood came running towards me, I would probably not want to talk to them. But hopefully some brave soul will step up and lend me a hand. The end.

I hope I never have to enforce this gruesome (although very well thought out) plan. Knowing my luck, my weapons will be wrested out of my sweaty hands and used against me. I'm getting sweaty just thinking about it. Let's talk about nicer things next time.

Saint Steven

2010-04-06T15:36:00.000-07:00

Steve totally looks like Madonna in this picture, circa her Like A Prayer days. It's like an angel sighing.

Flossy Flossy

2010-04-05T15:09:00.000-07:00

This is what goes on everyday directly outside our job trailer:
"Eeeeeee errrrrrrrr!!" This piece of equipment chews up big hunks of rubble and then spits out the rebar, for recycling I think. They recently demolished an old warehouse on site to make way for our project and this is all the crap from the foundation. The rubble pile is actually pretty impressive, it gets up to about 25 feet high. My coworker and I enjoying throwing glass items into the pile and watching them shatter into a million tinkly pieces. Trailer life brings out the worst in everyone.

"Oh, hello there! VROOM!"

Big Think

2010-04-04T13:42:00.000-07:00

I've been doing some hard thinking lately, mostly about my life and THE FUTURE. It is a very dismal exercise indeed. Shaping my destiny is proving to be more difficult than I imagined.

Here is a house I looked at this weekend in Sacramento. I went with my whole family in tow since we were all up there to visit Roscoe for Easter.
"What an elegant little Tudor home." you might say. That's what I said too! Pack your bags, Brad, we are moving to Sacramento!

Here is the picture they should have put on the listing:
SO MANY CATS. The smell of cat crap hit us before we even got into the front door. When we got inside, it just smelled like death and hopelessness. And fifty years of indoor smoking. Besides the smells, it was also a total dump. I think this might have been some kind of hobo party house. After we had left, my aunt swore she had gotten fleas from the three minutes we were actually in the house before we all ran out shuddering and gasping for fresh air.

So, I'm not completely sold on Sacramento yet. The next round of house tours later this month will be more extensive and with an agent, so we'll see how that goes.

Pot Head

2010-03-24T11:21:00.000-07:00

NETI pot that is! Heh heh. Yes, I finally caved to all the hype of the miraculous neti pot. I've been resistant to trying it for a long time because pouring water into your nose just doesn't seem quite right, does it? But I do love me some "hippie medicine" as Roscoe likes to call it, and my allergies kicked into full gear last week, so it seemed like the perfect time to give the neti pot a whirl.

All in all, sinus warshing wasn't as awful as I thought it would be. I actually made Brad do it first so I would know what I was in for. "It feels like...my entire head is being filled with water. " He wasn't screaming in agony, so I got ready for my maiden pour. I jammed the pot into my nose hole and commenced pouring. After a few seconds, I started wondering where the heck all this water was going. Then it hit the sinuses near my eyes which made me say "ACK." After a few more seconds, water started spouting out of my other nostril. My head is a magical fountain!

I have to admit I was a little disappointed with the results. I was hoping to blow out decades worth of sinus detritus, maybe even a spider or two, but it was mostly just saline solution. I've done it twice now, and I have not noticed any major improvements in my well-being. Stupid lying hippies.

Sad Dog Stories

2010-03-12T08:30:00.000-08:00

Sad Dog Story #1:
Have you ever heard about Hachiko, the famous Japanese dog? Apparently there have been many movies and books based on his story, but I've somehow managed to miss all of them. I just learned about him yesterday and got all misty-eyed at work. I don't have much compassion when it comes to people, but I'm a total sucker for dogs.

Anyways, Hachiko belonged to a university professor and every evening Hachiko would go to the train station and wait for the professor to come home from work. But one day the professor had a stroke at work and DIED, never to return home. Hachiko was given away, but he kept returning to the train station nearly every evening to wait for his professor. He continued this for about 10 years, pretty much until his death in 1935. Are you crying yet? Hachiko became famous for his loyalty and eventually a bronze statue was erected in his honor at the train station. I'm sure Steve would do the same for me if he were able to navigate our apartment stairs. Ha ha who am I kidding. If I died, Steve would probably eat my dead body.

Sad Dog Story #2
Last year when my aunt was fighting (and eventually beating) breast cancer, I sometimes accompanied her to her chemo appointments. There was a very sweet, old black lab named Millie at the treatment center who belonged to one of the nurses and would go around comforting the patients. One day, I noticed Millie was not around. Then I noticed a table was set up in the waiting room with flowers and guest book and a big picture of Millie. That's right, Millie died. Why I started reading a dead dog's guest book (all signed by cancer patients!!) is beyond me. I am a glutton for punishment. For reals, it said things like "Dear sweet Millie, you were such a good dog to keep me company during my chemo treatments. Somehow you always knew the right moment to come in and lick my hand. I will never forget you and I will see you in heaven soon, old girl." Every note was sadder than the last, I was a total wreck by the time I got to the end. *SOB*

Well, I think that's enough crying for today! If I'm ever at your house and you have cable, please do not let me watch Animal Cops or any of those other sad shows on Animal Planet. Our whole evening will be ruined.

Getting Paid

2010-03-02T10:29:00.000-08:00

Sacrament

2010-02-25T21:53:00.000-08:00

Lately I have been thinking the unthinkable. By which I mean moving back to the Central Valley. THE VALLEY. Sacramento to be specific. I don't know what else to do. I am tired of looking at crapshack after crapshack in Oakland. On the other hand, the Sacramento inventory in my price range is amazing.

Look at this dreamy craftsman in Midtown Sac:
A porch! I would push someone off a cliff for that porch. What a perfect spot for sunsets and cocktails with Steve. And TREES. One of the things that really depresses me about a lot of the Oakland neighborhoods where I'm looking is the complete lack of street trees. And the iron bars on the windows.

Here is another Midtown house, this one is a sweet little Victorian:
Hello, come in through my charming blue front door, I made cookies! Then we can eat them on the porch because it's such a lovely day. That is what I would say if I lived here. This house would cost twice as much in Oakland, if not more. It makes my insides burn. All day I go back and forth between the Oakland and Sacramento listings and it makes me want to tear my hair out and eat it.

To give you some perspective, here is a house in Oakland that costs more than either of the above:
It's straight out of Deliverance! Let us duel with our banjos! I think that elegant exterior finish is made actually made of old dog turds cobbled together with spit and Elmer's glue. To be fair, there are a handful of not-hideous houses in Oakland within my budget, but more often than not they are either money pits with major structural problems or in neighborhoods where visits from the SWAT team are the norm. After almost a year of house hunting, I'm beginning to think I won't be able to sustain my glamorous urban lifestyle for very much longer. I am destined for yokel-dom!

Sunday Gravy

2010-02-22T17:06:00.000-08:00

FOOD! So delicious and life-sustaining! On Sunday night Brad made a spaghetti meat sauce from scratch and despite my misguided allegiance to preservative-laden store-bought sauces, I really enjoyed it. It reminded me of the super hearty bolognese-esque spaghetti my grandpa used to make for me when I was a kid. If I weren't so emotionally stunted, this would have surely brought a tear to my eye.

Brad said them Italians call this Sunday Gravy. Mama mia, that is so charming. Here is the gravy simmering away.

The final result was the most perfect spaghetti ever. I like mine with a morbidly obese layer of shredded parmigiano-reggiano on top.

Free Show

2010-02-19T16:43:00.001-08:00

Every morning, the little shuttle bus I take to work passes by the San Francisco Armory. It was built way back when for the National Guard after the original armory was destroyed in the 1906 earthquake. It has a long, storied history in the city, but I'm mostly interested in it because Kink.com bought it a few years ago and now it's probably the most fortified porn studio in the world. Whenever we drive by it, I try peering into the Armory's tiny windows hoping to see something salacious, but unfortunately Kink has kept their promise about keeping their activities invisible to the neighborhood. Nards.

However, I was super excited to learn that Kink gives free tours of the Armory once a month. And not just of the historical and architectural stuff (which I would love anyways) but also of the whole porn studio. They don't show you any live filming sessions, of course, but still. Apparently there is a giant human-sized hamster wheel to see. I didn't even know that was a thing people were into. So I hustled over to the ticketing website to get my free tickets, but ALAS, all the tours are booked solid until May. Double nards. I will check again in May.

All this smut research reminded me of when I was a disillusioned landscape architect looking for a new career on Craigslist during my lunch breaks. I came very close to applying for a job as a gay porn photo retoucher. At the time, it seemed preferable to looking at site plans all day. In the end, I decided against applying because if I did end up getting the job, I'm not sure what I would've told my parents about my new vocation.
Lastly, did you know that there is a flag for "leather pride?" Yes. I always saw it flapping in the wind next to the gay pride flag atop the Armory, but never knew what it was. I have so much to learn.

Tiger, tiger, burning bright

2010-02-12T15:40:00.000-08:00

Gather 'round for culture time, children, because the Lunar New Year is this Sunday. Hoot hoot! We Chinese folks LOVE the moon. Any of our holidays that are worth celebrating are usually moon-centric. Brad has attended a number of our family moon events and has come a long way from his first bewildering, faux-pas riddled lunar new year with us. I won't bore you with the details, but it involved Brad getting slapped and yelled at. Don't worry, he totally deserved it for disrespectin'. Heh heh.

For me, Chinese New Year is the real start of the new year. Forget all that January 1st bullshit, okay? The Gregorian calendar is a joke and you know it. The new year begins this Sunday, February 14th, and the year will be 4707. (Yes, 4707. We've been doing this date-keeping thing for a long time.) On our horoscope, it'll be the year of the Tiger, which means wearing stripes and mauling people with your teeth will be totally cool.

Here are some Chinese superstitions that I strictly abide by to ensure a prosperous new year. I suggest you do the same unless you like having bad things happening to you. It's your funeral.

Clean the house thoroughly the day before to sweep out the bad luck leftover from the previous year. Whatever you do, do not clean the house on new years or you'll sweep all the new good luck out.

Don't wash your hair on new years either, for the same reasons. (If you're one of those people that washes their hair everyday, you really shouldn't because it dries out all the natural oils that keep your hair healthy. HIDDEN PONY BEAUTY TIPS!)

Eat a fish on New Years. The word "fish" sounds like "abundance" in Chinese and we love homophones.

There are about five billion other superstitions that people follow, but I figure those three are good enough for me. I also read that the second day of the new year is considered to be the birthday of all dogs, so Steve is going to get something extra nice on Monday. Maybe a meatball!

Every Little Breeze

2010-02-09T17:24:00.001-08:00

On Monday one of my coworkers was having some mild heart attack-y symptoms and I had to drive him to the ER! Don't worry, he did not die or have a heart attack. It turned out to be just some run-of-the-mill hypertension. This is the second time I've had to deal with an emergency situation at work. The first time was when I had to call 911 because a someone's kid starting having a seizure and then passed out. She also didn't die! So while it's still pretty ridiculous that everyone picked a joker like me to be the go-to person for emergencies, at least I have a pretty good track record. I like to think my healing touch is in part due to my namesake, Saint Louise de Marillac, patron saint of the sick.

AAAAGGHH! A dead lady! For reals, the body of Saint Louise is in there, entombed for all to see in Paris. Sorry, I mean her "incorruptible corpse." That just means her corpse is well-preserved and not decomposing like regular folk would, because of divine intervention. Fancy! They thoughtfully put a wax mask on her so her horrifying mummy face isn't staring at you while you try to pray. It's the small things that keep you coming back.

Anyways, I lied, I am not named after Saint Louise. I am named after the "Jewel of the Rockies," Lake Louise in Canada. Ain't she a beaut? Yes, I was conceived in the vicinity. Thanks for forever ruining this Canadian treasure for me, mom and dad. The lake itself was named after Princess Louise Caroline Alberta, the handsome fourth daughter of Queen Victoria:
Thus concludes my rambling but somewhat informative post!

Get Rich Quick

2010-02-03T17:24:00.000-08:00

The Super Lotto drawing is tonight and I really think I'm going to win this time! As soon as the check clears, I'm going to make a dress out of 100-dollar bills and glide around my new house in my custom-made Louboutin roller skates. Tra la la! Just so you know, I am not completely shallow; I already have a list of charities I plan on donating to, okay?

Update: I did not win. BALLS.

Peanut Gallery

2010-02-01T17:26:00.000-08:00

Last week I thought my BART train was actually going to the moon instead of Oakland because I saw a young man voluntarily eating Circus Peanuts. Which no human on Earth would ever do because Circus Peanuts are absolutely the most vile candy in the world. I don't think they can even be categorized as food; they're really more like ear plugs than anything else. Anyways, this guy had an entire bag of the stuff. Our eyes met briefly as he shoved a second one into his mouth, and I thought I could detect a spark a defiance beneath the shame in his eyes as he started his slow, gooey mastication. Eventually I had to look away because the disgusting fake banana smell was wafting over to my side.

Here is a picture of the sick crap in case you don't know what they are. Despite appearances, they are not actually made of foam rubber. I'm sure black magic is involved though. Peanuts that taste like bananas jus ain't natural.

*Shudder*

Anyone who enjoys these squishy little orange turds should maybe consider a brain scan to make sure there aren't any tumors affecting your taste receptors. I won't name names, but you know who you are, you sick SOB.

Girl Power

2010-01-28T16:23:00.000-08:00

Does anyone else think Girl Scout cookies are not that great? Just me? I really don't understand the boners people get for these things. I mean, they're okay, but I don't lose my mind when cookie season rolls around. I've never actually bought a box because there's always that one crazy person in the office who buys 10 boxes and shares with everyone. Whenever I eat one, it's always half-heartedly. "Mmm, is that....palm oil? Makes the cookie nice and heavy, doesn't it? Yum, I guess."

Well, yesterday I signed up to buy my very first box ever. I couldn't help it! My coworker brought in a sign-up sheet for his two daughters and nice dads always tug at my heartstrings. Accompanying the sign-up sheets was a photo of each girl along with a written plea to "Please buy our cookies to help Haiti and also we want to go to Disneyland!" And the girls are both adorably fat-faced and snaggle-toothed, with their little merit badge sashes on. I managed to hold out for three days until I caved. I very reluctantly signed up for a box of Trefoils, which looked like the only ones I might enjoy. (I like plain old lady cookies.) Sigh. A 30-year No Buying Girl Scout Cookies record down the drain. This tender heart of mine will surely be my ruin.

But as much as I hate their cookies, I think Girl Scouts are actually pretty keen. I was never one myself, (although I did attend one very miserable Brownie meeting in my youth at my mother's insistence) but the concept of a massive girl army killing the world slowly with their fat-laden cookies is certainly appealing. Also, they remind me of General Jinjur and her girl army from the Land of Oz. This is my second Oz reference this year and I hope the trend continues.

Lil Smokies

2010-01-27T13:34:00.000-08:00

I don't know if I am just getting old or if a switch in my brain has been flipped on, but I just can't handle my weed like I used to. Nowadays, instead of it being relaxing and making all food delicious and funny, half the time it just gives me panic attacks. Which are not fun, contrary to what you may believe! Mine mostly involve feeling like I can't breathe and then freaking the fuck out. Hilarious in hindsight, but not so much during the fact, when you think you are going to die. Not that this will stop me in the future, I'm just saying it's a bummer.

On the bright side, I figure if I can handle a panic attack while high, having one while sober should be a cake walk. I've never actually had one while sober, but I've had a mild nut allergy reaction and it's kind of the same.

Ohiyo gozai-mustard

2010-01-26T14:52:00.000-08:00

Look at these ridic snacks my coworker brought back from Japan. They are so precious I could barely bring myself to eat them, but of course I did, because I have poor impulse control. The body was a typical Japanese rice snack, salty and delicious. The head was not so delicious, it was some sort of a hard powdery shell with a little dessicated pea on the inside. There is a joke to be made here about salty bodies and pea-brains, but I can't think of it and also don't want to offend my legion of Japanese readers. Louise-san is so su-mart-u.

Rainy Days and Mondays

2010-01-20T13:21:00.000-08:00

Ooh la la, this RAIN! Yes, I'm going to talk about the weather. We Californians have been in a drought for the past three years, so when water falls from the sky we git excited. I'm pretty sure I get to wear my rain boots every day this week, which makes it a pretty good week indeed. Whenever it rains, I think of the Chinese nursery rhyme my mom used to sing to us. Everyone sing along now!

It's raining hard,

Shoulders are wet*
Grandpa's crying,
He's not happy.

Hmm, it's a rather austere little ditty when you translate it into English. It's actually quite charming in Chinese, trust me. I think "grandpa" in this song actually means God, but I drew my real grandpa instead because he loves a good pout. Or maybe it means "your dead grandpa in heaven is crying." Yikes. My grandfather is neither dead nor God! You're really reading too much into this. It's just a drawing, okay? (*Chinese folk, could you verify the second line? Jen Lau, I'm looking at you.)

Before I get into the photos that follow, I would like to say that I am not the kind of girl who regularly dresses up her dog. As a general rule, I think animals should not wear clothes, especially things that say "I'm A Little Bitch" or whatever. Tacky to the max. However, I will admit Steve does own a few articles of practical winter clothing. He's old and prone to pneumonia, so I try to keep him warm and dry in extreme weather conditions. That being said, check out how prosh he looks in his little red rain slicker! Squeeee!

The jacket was a gift from Roscoe a few years ago. I had to extend the velcro straps because Steve is weirdly barrel-chested for a little dog and it kept popping off of him before I fixed the straps. Steve, what do you think about your smart little rain jacket?

"Barf."

He is not really barfing in that picture, just yawning. Our photo shoot went a little long. Oh yes, evenings at my house are full of excitement.

Ice Age

2010-01-15T09:10:00.000-08:00

Listen, I know no one really cares about my old men eating ice cream photo collection, but I need a place to keep them all in one place, so I'm sorry. Welcome to my sad life. I've only managed to track down two so far.

Petersen's Ice Cream Company (Chicago, IL - 2007 )
This man bought a few pints to take home, but I guess he couldn't wait and had to eat some right then and there. Adorable.

Muir Woods Cafe/ Gift Shop (Mill Valley, CA - 2007?)
This photo isn't the greatest. You can't really tell they're eating ice cream, they're too young, and it's two guys together instead of one lonely
old man. A low point in the collection.

Commingle

2010-01-13T16:24:00.000-08:00

As of this year, Brad and I have joined forces to create one mighty superpower! Yes, tiz be true, we have moved in together. Oh, the joys of cohabitation. It is not at all like suddenly having a conjoined twin. No sir! OKAY, IT IS. It is exactly like that. I turn around and there he is. We can't both walk through the kitchen at the same. Our livers and digestive systems are fused together. Haha kidding on that last one. Just some Siamese twin humor there.
All cruel jokes aside, I would say it's going pretty well, considering how weird I am about my personal space. There was one really close call when Brad innocently ate all the tortilla chips and I almost went into a full murder-suicide rampage. You think I'm kidding, but I was seething with white hot burning rage for about two hours. (I'm really passionate about nachos.) Fortunately, Brad has been a real trooper. He just takes all my murderous threats in stride and in turn, I've learned a lot about "sharing." (Still overrated, SO KEEP YOUR FILTHY MITTS OFF MY CHIPS, BRAD.) Kidding, kidding! What's mine is yours, darling. (I'LL KILL YOU WITH MY TEETH.)

I Got A Broken Face

2010-01-08T09:46:00.000-08:00

I forgot to document the Pixies show I went to two months ago with Brad. I'm slowly turning this blog into a memory dump for future use. Judging by how my grandpa is holding up, it looks like I'll have senile dementia to look forward to in my twilight years, so I might as well record things while I still remember them. Also good if I ever get amnesia or need an alibi. (Photos: Fox Theater)
November 8th, 2009: Saw Pixies with Brad. The show was very good. Frank Black bears a striking resemblance to Uncle Fester. Kim Deal has an unfortunate haircut but is still awesome and is also my lesbian girlfriend. Fox Theater is the most beautiful venue ever and made me glad I live in Oakland. We spotted Kim and Pip there too which filled my heart with joy.

Uncle Fester

My girlfriend

Space Case

2010-01-06T08:32:00.000-08:00

Growing up, my mom used to repeatedly tell me that I shouldn't have children because I would probably just misplace them or accidentally cook them in the oven. (I was a touch absent-minded in my youth.) "If your head wasn't attached to your neck, you'd probably lose that too." That was another favorite.

I've become much more organized in my adult years, but yesterday I left my wallet on a park bench so I am clearly still unfit for motherhood. No matter, I don't like children very much anyways. Pesky is what they are. (Except for all my friends' children who are lovely and adorable.)

Want Some Candy, Little Girl?

2009-12-29T17:30:00.000-08:00

Financial lessons started at a young age in my family. My dad wasn't really charmed by childhood naiveté. We were ruled by logic and reason! And beer. So much beer.

Young People Music

2009-12-28T11:22:00.000-08:00

Today I shall sully my blog with youtube videos of TWO top 40 hits! This is amazing because I pretty much live under a rock and mainstream music doesn't make its way to me very often.

1) I happened across this video on tv the day and was perplexed. "Is that man black? He doesn't look black. But he's not white either. WHAT ELSE IS THERE?"

Sikh, that's what. Well, I have made my feelings for Sikh men very clear in the past, so there's no need to elaborate on that hotness. But seriously, an Indian dude with a top 40 hit in America. I am beyond tickled, even though his song is pretty fruity. That didn't stop me from singing it to Roscoe all Christmas weekend though.

2) This is the number one song in America. I cry for the the future of our country.

WHAT. She sounds like she was recently lobotomized! I won't even get into her wretched rhymes. Ugh, it's just terrible. The other day I said to Roscoe, "Hey, have you heard that stupid ass song--" and she immediately starts shouting the lyrics at me like a crazy woman. Good ol' Roscoe, I know I can always count on her knowledge of crap music. The only good thing about this song is its title, because it reminds me of this charming guy:

Tik Tok from Return to Oz! Coincidentally, Roscoe bought me this movie for Christmas. It is awesome.

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

2009-12-22T11:06:00.000-08:00

Guess what we did for Roscoe's birthday? We played shoot' em up at the local range! Talk about a good time. Truth be told, guns in real life terrify me, even though Roscoe and I grew up in an NRA household. Gun are frighteningly loud, and you know, they're made for killing things. But on the other hand, shootin' shit is a LOT of fun! Anyways, we always go with Greg, who is an ex-Marine and who is super serious about gun safety, so we know we're in good hands.

Here is a picture of me with my target. This was only my second time shooting, and I'm not very good yet. I tend to shoot low due to over-anticipation of the recoil; so if I want to shoot someone in the heart, I have to aim for their head. These are important life lessons I'm learning! If you look closely at the target's head, you can see where Greg helped me shoot a smiley face into it. He has much better aim than I do.

Here is Brad doing his redneck thug face. We all shot with Greg's M1911 Colt .45. A .45 is really too much gun for me; I might consider renting a .22 next time. Much more ladylike. Did you know you can only rent a gun at the ranges if you have a shooting partner with you? This is because they are worried a solo person will come in, rent a gun, and then kill themselves. And no one wants to clean up that mess! Ha ha. There was also a "Banned for Life" list at the check-in counter. These are people who repeatedly acted like jackasses at the range and now are not welcome back EVER. I was really glad they were serious about keeping the riff raff out. There was a whole family that was banned and Brad found this highly comical.

I was all jittery and hyper afterwards from the adrenaline pumping through my body. I clearly have a long ways to go before I become a professional assassain-for-hire. But at least if I am ever in a hostage situation and somehow manage to get the gun away from my attacker, I will know what to do. AIM FOR THE SKIES!

Have a holly jolly Christmas everyone! My hidden pony predicts great things for 2010.

Robuts

2009-12-14T15:36:00.000-08:00

At one of my old jobs, I had a boss who always reprimanded me when I doodled during meetings. He said it was rude and disrespectful. That's me to a T, so way to call them as you see them, Mr. Hyden.

Gramps

2009-12-04T13:11:00.000-08:00

My grandfather's birthday was last week and he turned 94 years old. He always calls me Cece, which is funny because there's no one with that name in our family. But you know, he's 94 and he has 28 grandkids, so you can't really blame the guy. Lately I have been just going with it, but Roscoe says tricking the elderly is mean.

FACTS about Mr. Kwan:

He was a chef for the Governor of Hong Kong, I think this one.
He never goes anywhere without a newsboy cap to keep his head warm.
He LOVES sugar and would eat it by the spoonful if we let him.
His English skills are very limited but he has coined some choice family phrases that Roscoe and I use on a regular basis. One is "Big Solly!"(Big Sorry) for when you do something really bad, like steal your handicapped neighbor's wheelchair (he actually did this.) Another is "Dummy Boy." This is used to describe someone or something that is stupid, because boys are intellectually inferior. So true.

Arrrrrrt

2009-11-24T16:23:00.000-08:00

Here is a sketch of a painting I plan on doing for my kitchen. And no, this does not reflect any latent desires to "nest" or make some egg babies of my own. I just like birds.

Australia: A Continent of Liars

2009-11-18T14:04:00.000-08:00

I learned a hard lesson about Australian licorice last weekend. For the record, all the Australian licorice I've had in the past has been delicious. Australian licorices are soft and chewy and are everything Twizzlers are not. (Note: I only eat red licorice because black licorice is FOUL and should only be used as rat poison.) So when I saw this bag of Darrell Lea Australian Licorice the other day, I was intrigued!My, don't these look yummy? Here is what the packaging says since the image is a kind of small: "Yogurt Coated, Soft Eating, Raspberry, Liquorice" (and on the little jizz splatter it says "Yogurt Goodness!") Mmm, mmm! Sounds like my kind of treat. I was imagining these to be squishy little tubes of red licorice heaven, so I bought them without any hesitation because they would surely be amazing!
Oh lord. I had to make the sign of the cross when I opened up the bag. Whose ass did these fall out of?! These candies are an abomination to nature. And the worst part is, not only do they look like hardened mucus-covered pencil erasers, they taste like them too. Why you gotta be like that, Australia? Darrell Lea, you are a bad man and you owe me $2.00.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Krantz

2009-11-18T08:56:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite pastimes is spying on people and solving mysteries! I like it so much that I actually looked into what it would take to become a private investigator. Did you know that shit requires a license? Garbage! Well, I don't think Encyclopedia Brown had a license, so I'm not getting one either. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Department of Consumer Affairs.

My specialty is finding and returning lost wallets. One day, while perusing the toothpaste aisle at Target, Brad and I found a wallet on the ground belonging to a Mr. Benjamin Krantz, according to the license. Since it was still warm from Mr. Krantz's radiant butt heat, we figured we'd have a good chance of finding the him nearby. Our first thought was that he was the man in the wheelchair who had just rolled away a few minutes before. Because, you know, handicapped people are clumsy and drop things all the time. After a few minutes of running around looking for him ("How fast can a guy in a wheelchair go?") we spotted him in a checkout lane! But Krantz was a doughy guy in his 30s and Mr. Wheelchair was older than dirt. This is what mystery novels call a "red herring."
Undeterred, we took off in the other direction hoping to find him. At this point, I was enjoying myself very much as I held up the license and compared it to everyone we passed. "Look for someone who likes flying kites and uh... getting his car detailed!" You can find out so much about people by rifling through their wallets.

Anyways, we finally found someone that bore a slight resemblance to Krantz by the laundry detergents. We were unsure though, because this guy was a lot thinner and didn't have a goatee like the picture in the license. After a few minutes of casual lingering and sideways glances, I yelled "BENJAMIN KRANTZ?!" That startled the shit out of him, haha! "Uhh...yes?" I proudly told him that we had found his wallet and he thanked us, if somewhat suspiciously. Brad wanted to compliment him on his weight loss, but prudently decided not to.

In hindsight, we probably came off as total creeps. Krantzy probably thought we were grifters trying to steal his identity. Whatever, man. "Mysteries" is a really challenging hobby and you have to act quick when opportunities present themselves. THE END.

Tantrum

2009-11-12T15:26:00.000-08:00

Tested: My Patience

2009-11-09T16:08:00.000-08:00

Last weekend Brad made me watch Paranormal Activity. What a disappointing crapfest that was. About 40 minutes into it, I was bored as shit and asked Brad if I could paint or draw to pass the time. At first he said no because he wanted me to get "into" the movie, but after a few more minutes of exaggerated eye-rolling and loud sighing on my part, he relented. Here is the resulting painting; it is a work in progress:
It's a study of the squirrel skull Brad got me a few Christmas's ago, one of my most favorite possessions ever.

Anyways, I was repeatedly told how pants-pissingly terrifying this movie was, and how Steven Spielberg was so scared he walked out half an hour into it. Mr. Spielberg, you are a PUSSY. I've seen scarier episodes of Full House. Granted, we watched it at home and not in a theater full of nervous teenage girls, but c'mon. Fluttering bedsheets and self-slamming doors are unsettling at best. FIFTEEN THUMBS DOWN.

Wiki Wiki Mahalo

2009-11-09T14:10:00.000-08:00

I was in Kauai for a while and now I'm back! 'Twas buggy and muggy. While nature is always beautiful and awe-inspiring, I still prefer my surroundings to be at least 80% concrete and asphalt. In other words, I missed California veddy much.

My hand-drawing skills have gotten a little rusty since I've been on vacation. I used today's team meeting to get back into gear. Failed!

Babushka

2009-10-12T09:43:00.001-07:00

Steve and I are getting ready to go into hibernation! The days; they be gettin gloomy.

Guten Tag

2009-10-01T10:30:00.000-07:00

My cousin Claus is coming to town tomorrow from Germany. We used to get into brutal fights with each other as kids. Here we are during more peaceful times (yes, that is a Big Boy doll in the pool with us):
When I about nine years old, I asked my dad if my Uncle Stefan (Claus's father) was a Nazi back in the day. "No, he was too young." Well then...what about Uncle Stefan's dad? He was probably a Nazi, right? "What? No! They are all nice Germans. No Nazis." But.... "NO NAZIS." Okay, gosh.

Oldie Coldies

2009-09-29T14:50:00.000-07:00

One of my hobbies is taking photos of old men eating ice cream. Surreptitiously, of course. I do have some dignity! Anyways, I just think it is the funniest sight ever. I prefer them to be over 60 and eating alone, but sometimes I make exceptions. Maybe someday I will share my photo collection with you. But it's not a very extensive collection and most of the pictures are kinda blurry. The old buggers are elusive as all get out and they do not like having their pictures taken by strangers while they enjoy their frozen treats.

Since I am on an frozen dessert kick, here is drawing of a paletas cart. These are ubiquitous on the streets of my hometown. RWC, YOU KNOW! I like paletas because they are made of real fruit, not purple grape simulacra.

Ice cream places I like:

Ici Ice Cream - Berkeley CA
Fenton's Creamery (ice cream drink menu only) - Oakland, CA
Creole Creamery - New Orleans, LA

Ice cream places I still need to visit:

Bi-Rite Creamery - San Francisco, CA
Humphry Slocombe - San Francisco, CA

Enchantée

2009-09-28T16:15:00.000-07:00

Also last weekend, we had lunch with our pals Kim and Pip (at the Indian buffet) and met the latest addition to their brood, Ella! She is precious TO THE MAX. I even dared to hold her, despite my new-baby phobia. "Don't worry," Brad said, "babies are pretty solid at 2 months."

NOT TRUE. Still terrifyingly floppy and head-wobbly! I was really nervous she would flop out of my arms and into the chicken tikka masala, but Ella was a very good sport and didn't wiggle very much or cry. She also makes great zombie faces when she gets sleepy and her head is a perfectly round ball. In conclusion, Ella is the best. 5 out 5 stars!

Mater Domnini nostri

2009-09-28T09:49:00.000-07:00

This weekend after a quality Indian buffet lunch in the city, Brad and I popped into the Cathedral of Saint Mary of the Assumption, aka St. Mary's. St. Mary's is a hugely iconic building in San Francisco and this was the first time I've ever gone inside, despite driving by it a thousand times when I lived in the Inner Richmond. (Photos from the internet)

Honeycomb's big...yeah, yeah yeah!

After finally making the pilgrimage, all I have to say is "meh." This is definitely one of those buildings I can only appreciate from afar. It was too monolithic for my tastes and I just felt like I was in a giant concrete beehive. Plus, the holy water was roped off! What kind of garbage is that? St. Mary's one saving grace is that Pope John Paul visited there in 1987, so at least I can say JP and I had something in common. Also, the gift shop had a very nice framed Virgin Mary picture for only $9.99. I considered buying it, but it was just big enough to push my little Catholic knicknack collection into religious nutjob territory. That, and Catholic stuff gives Brad the heebie jeebies.

Witch Hunt

2009-09-23T15:03:00.000-07:00

I think I am turning into a witch. The other day Brad found a whisker on my neck! That is probably one of the most unalluring things you can find on your lady friend. It's right up there with and extra toe or a tail. You should've seen his face, "Darling, you have a hair on your neck, let me brush it off for you...HOLY JESUS, it's ATTACHED." After a nice hearty scream, I ran to the bathroom and yanked out the follicular interloper. My life is really just one long series of humiliating events.

Serenade

2009-09-22T12:44:00.000-07:00

As may or may not know, Roscoe recently got ENGAGED. Like, to be married and shit. Crazy, right? I for one, am relishing my new role as the spinster sister. As a wedding gift, I want to sing a song for Greg and Roscoe at the reception. My current pick is "Touch Your Woman" by Dolly Parton.
The perfect song for the perfect day! Maybe I can get a harp accompaniment to make it extra romantic. Here is a video of Dolly's version in case you have the great misfortune of not knowing this song. What a deprived life you have led up to this point.

Punchy Stabby

2009-09-14T16:44:00.000-07:00

Some days I wish I had a giant mallet to bash everything in sight.

Rock Lobster

2009-09-11T14:31:00.000-07:00

My trick knee has been acting up lately, so I've started taking glucosamine supplements to keep my joints nice and bendy. Steve also takes doggy glucosamine for his little knees. Did you know glucosamine is made of the exoskeletons of crustaceans? I'm hoping that both of us will take enough to develop SUPER LOBSTER POWERS. Which I'll need, because the other day a stupid neighbor lady told me that there were two attempted murders down the street last week. "Yes, murders! Be careful when you walk your dog! It was in broad daylight!" she said.

What the heck!? My street is a little rough, but not that rough. I immediately went home and did a search on my favorite Oakland crime map but didn't find anything particularly violent happening in my neighborhood. I later learned that it was two attempted burglaries that had occured, not murders. LADY, learn how to communicate the FACTS next time you want to scare the shit out of me. God.

Here is a horrifying picture of the real Lobster Boy. Also, I've had the B52's "Rock Lobster" stuck in my head all day now.

Cash

2009-09-10T09:00:00.000-07:00

You might think this man is from some African country suffering from hyperinflation, but actually, he's just trying to buy a house in Oakland! Yep, the bank didn't even want to look at my offer because it wasn't all-cash. What a joke.

(PS: I was wondering if Johnny Cash's last name was truly Cash and it is. I like it when people's surnames are real words.)

Barbie's Dream House

2009-08-31T08:47:00.000-07:00

Here is the first house I've actually made an offer on! Check out that turret! I have very little hope that my offer will get accepted since my agent told me that there are currently 15 other offers on the table (after only 5 days on the market!!) and everyone is throwing everything they've got at it.

On the upside, 15 offers is way better than the 24+ offers we were seeing a few months ago. Pretty soon everyone I'm in competition with will have a house and then it'll finally be my turn to blow my entire life savings on a 70-year-old pile of stucco and asbestos. YES!

Hot Dogs on the Rocks

2009-08-28T14:57:00.000-07:00

It's too hot.

Salty

2009-08-18T16:41:00.000-07:00

Mama Don't Take My Kodachrome

2009-08-13T12:58:00.000-07:00

This is why we never have any nice pictures to show Brad's grandma. Notice how Brad's smile gets progressively sadder in each photo. (Photos by noted fashion photographer, Roscoe.)

Very Superstitious

2009-08-11T16:31:00.001-07:00

I try to navigate through life as a lady of science, but in truth, I look for omens in just about everything. Lately, they just all seem bad.

Brad, in his never-ending quest to destroy me, keeps leaving his shoes on my coffee table. Which is not only unsanitary, but also a harbinger of DEATH. House hunting has also become difficult, since some house numbers will curse you with death or poverty, if you go by Chinese superstitions. There are a lot of homophones in Cantonese, so some numbers have either very good or very bad connotations. For instance, 2458 roughly translates to "Death Prone, Never Prosperous."

Do you have that Stevie Wonder song stuck in your head now too?

When you believe in things that you don't understand,

Then you suffer!
Superstition ain't the way!

Husband of the Year

2009-08-11T14:28:00.000-07:00

This was a conversation I heard on the shuttle bus yesterday:

Man: So my wife had her first chemo treatment today.
Lady: (Sympathetically) Oh, that's rough.
Man: Yeah, apparently she was really nauseous afterwards.
Lady: Did you go with her?
Man: Nah, she took BART.
Lady: Oh, you couldn't get the time off?
Man: I could've, but I figured she'd be okay.
Lady: Oh.
Man: Yeah, I didn't know it was gonna be chemo chemo. Next time I'll tell her to leave her cell phone on so I can call her or something.

Okay, I know some forms of chemo are lighter than others, but STILL. Your wife is getting chemicals pumped through her body to kill her cells and you couldn't even take off a few hours to make sure she got home okay? I hope his sick wife knits him a sweater, because that dude is COLD.

Shows I Actually Liked

2009-08-04T13:23:00.000-07:00

In general, I do not like going to shows because I'm a miserable curmudgeon and I hate young people. But here are the few standouts that Brad has taken me to in the past two years. (Note: I didn't take any of these pictures, even though they are from the actual shows we went to. That's what professional music photographers are for!)

Morrissey - Fillmore, 9/27/07
Swooooon. At one point during the show, he took his shirt off. You wouldn't think a slightly flabby, middle-aged asexual British man would get my rocks off, but he totally does.

The Magnetic Fields - Herbst Theater, 2/28/08
Speaking of miserable curmudgeons, there weren't any good photos of the whole band for this show, so here's a solo shot of Stephin Merritt frowning at his mandolin. I feel like Stephin and I are kindred spirits because he seems to hate everything, just like me!

The Vaselines - Bimbos, 5/11/09
Frances McKey immediately won me over when she started making pedophilia jokes, which are even funnier with a Scottish accent. They are a very adorable band.

David Byrne - Greek Theater, 6/26/09
David Byrne is a very charismatic performer, despite looking like a Q-tip in this picture. There were also dancers in this show with the most ridiculous choreography ever, as evidenced by spastic girl next to Mr. Byrne. I thought the dancing was a bit queer at first, but ever since the show Brad and I have been prone to spontaneous epileptic dancing fits. It's quite contagious!

The Cat I Never Had

2009-08-03T13:35:00.000-07:00

I am a total sucker when it comes to animals. Which is how I almost ended up adopting this janky-ass cat off the street last week! He started hanging around my apartment building a few weeks ago, looking really rough and moribund. Goopy, drippy eyes; dirty matted fur; and a little gimpy too. But charming! When I would come back from my walks with Steve, he would trot up to me and wait to be petted. Which I did, in a "eww, nice yucky kitty..." kind of way. I named him Pugsly.

Since there were already at least two cat ladies in the neighborhood feeding him, I figured he was in good hands. But a week went by, and he was still out there looking decrepit and sad. So I started thinking about the logistics of adopting this hot mess of a cat. Well, after a few days of fretting, it looks like the problem has solved itself. Pugsly is gone! And I think he was adopted rather than run over by a car based on the clues I've uncovered in the last few days:

A cat carrier showed up in the garage three days ago.
A box for a new cat scratcher showed up by the recycling bins this morning.

Looks promising, right? I hope so. Goodbye, Pugsly! I hope all your champagne wishes and caviar dreams have come true.

Money Cash Hoes

2009-07-31T14:06:00.000-07:00

"You buy dees care-rot, yes?"

You know what kind of people are successful in life? People who can sit in meetings and pay attention for longer than 10 minutes. I am not one of those people. Low-Ranking Louise, that's what they call me. But that's okay! I use meetings for "mind vacations," as I like to call them. After one team meeting, the obnoxious go-getter next to me said "Louise, you wanna compare notes so we can put together some meeting minutes?"

Unless you specifically ask me to take notes, I'm not going to be doing anything besides spacing out and drawing dinosaurs. Sorry.

Shantytown

2009-07-31T11:21:00.001-07:00

Ya'll, tis getting really difficult to do posts on my SECRET BLOG when I'm sitting in a trailer with a hundred other people. It's like one of those overcrowded hamster cages at Petco over here. On top of that, the contractors seems to be having an ongoing contest to see who can shit the most in one day. Honestly, I don't know what those guys are eating, but the Poo Olympics need to stop.

In other news, I like drawing slack-jawed children.

We're On a Road to Nowhere

2009-07-15T15:08:00.000-07:00

Things that are currently driving me crazy:

Working at a job site trailer
House hunting

I'm just going to hop on my bike and ride away from all my problems!

As there are currently no small-format scanners in this godforsaken, formaldehyde-ridden trailer, there will be no drawings for a while. Which means business as usual at My Hidden Pony!

Here is a house that I am currently interested in:
Tres shabby chic, no? I like the terracotta roof shingles and the little arched entryway. We're going to look at the interior tomorrow. Odds are I won't get it because it'll get 20 all-cash offers or something equally ridiculous. But I'll probably still throw my hat in the ring. My sad, little hat.

Lastly, today I smoked a cigarette because I was feeling so glum! Afterwards I felt all charred and lightheaded. Dang, I need to wash my sweatshirt, it's gettin all grimey.

Spirited Away

2009-06-23T15:36:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday a car almost sideswiped me on the freeway when I was en route to my parents' house for Father's Day . It was a near-death experience that left me and Steve all atremble! Later, when I was at BevMo picking up a classy gift for my old da, it occurred to me: "WAIT, what if Steve and I actually did die on the freeway and now we're ghosts who don't realize they're dead?!" Then I spent another 15 minutes in front of the New Zealand wines section daydreaming about ghost-me and ghost-Steve hanging out for the rest of eternity. Another afternoon well-spent.

Holy Holy

2009-06-08T09:36:00.000-07:00

If you have a boner for architecture and/or Catholicism like I do, I highly recommend checking out the Cathedral of Christ the Light in Oakland. Oh lordy, it is a thing of beauty. Sorry for the shit-poor quality of the photos, I only had my camera phone on me since it was a spur of the moment visit. Someday I'll go back with Brad's SLR so your mind can be properly blown.

Here is another picture of Mr. CHRIST THE LIGHT! in the apse or whatever that fronty part of the church is called. So pretty. There is also a mausoleum, which was beautiful and spooky as all hell. It was all Da Vinci Code up in there.

Nesting

2009-06-08T08:15:00.000-07:00

A mourning dove couple has started nesting on my fire escape! I think this is a good omen for my current house-hunting situation, which really fucking blows. Did you know mourning doves are monogamous? How romantical. I really like their dewy black eyeballs.

PS: I did not take this photo; I stole it from the internet. I tried to take a picture of the nest with my shitty little Canon, but it looked like blurry gray crap.

UPDATE: The nest has been ABANDONED. Foreclosures are affecting everyone!

Vacillate

2009-05-20T09:22:00.000-07:00

I can be really moody. This keeps my relationships exciting and unpredictable! Do I want hugs today or do I want to kick people's teeth in? Who knows?! Ha ha, just kidding, I NEVER want hugs! I find the best way to even out my moods is soft drugs and hard alcohol. It's all about balance, you see. Anyone who says "you should try yoga or therapy" can go suck an egg.

Me Mutter

2009-05-07T16:35:00.000-07:00

Jen said I had to update my stupid blog and also I should write something about my mom since it's Mother's Day is this weekend. Not that my mom reads this blog, what with all the drug-doin and swears-sayin.

Anyways, back when Roscoe was just a poopy, drooly blob, my mom had to find ways to keep 4-year-old me entertained. One time, we happened to have a big piece of butcher paper in the house and my mom found a way to shut me up for days. Here is my mom drawing an outline of my squirmy body on said piece of paper:

And then we cut along the lines and made the BEST THING EVER:

A life-sized paper mermaid!! WOOOO! Seriously, I loved this thing to death. My mom helped me color her and then I played with this piece of paper for weeks. When I took her outside on a windy day, she was practically a KITE! Poverty: Fun sometimes!

So that's my mom memory. Did I warm your hearts?

Lovely Lady Lumps

2009-04-21T14:37:00.000-07:00

Last weekend I went up to Davis to visit Roscoe for some quality sister time. On Sunday, I woke up hungry like the wolf as Duran Duran would say. Roscoe had Golden Grahams, so I went to the fridge for some milk.

Me: "Uhh, do you have any...cow milk?"
R: "No, just soy."
Me: (not wanting to be picky) "Okay."

Me: (pours milk)"...umm, your soy milk is kinda lumpy."
R: "It's FINE. That's how soy milk IS."
Me: (eats lumpy Golden Grahams quietly)

Later that morning, my stomach gets a little gurgly-feeling.

Me: "Roscoe, I think your lumpy soymilk is making me sick"
R: "Hmm....well, we did find it in the free pile."
Me: "WHAT."
R: "We've been drinking it all week! It's FINE."

So, the "free pile" is where people at Roscoe's apartment complex put out their old furniture and other miscellaneous crap, and other people are free to take it. And if you know me, you know how much I love finding free crap on the street. But I FIRMLY draw the line at foodstuffs. You're entering wackjob freegan territory there.

"But it was a whole pack from Costco! Only one was missing!" protested Roscoe. NO DUDE, that is GROSS.

I would also like to add that Roscoe does not like buying clothes from thrift stores because she thinks it's yucky. But street milk is okay apparently.