acid train

Admittedly, I'm not of a concert video buff. I don't enjoy even my favorite musicians' big screen efforts all that much. However, I do love me a documentary, so I was able to see Festival Express through those eyes. We went to see the early screening of it last night, along with a bunch of aging hippies (dancing, yes dancing in the front of the theatre during one Dead song).

Festival Express is the story of a train that took fourteen bands through Canada during the summer of 1970. They played at 3 or 4 venues (4, I think) but the real fun was on the train itself. Imagine the Grateful Dead, Flying Burrito Brothers, Janis Joplin, Buddy Guy, the Band and a bunch of others drinking* their way from Toronto to Vancouver, jamming all night, stopping only to play a show or pick up more booze (thanks, liquor store in Saskatoon!). The film featured a few performances at each stop as well as present day interviews of promoters, performers and audience members.

It was fun and a bit surreal seeing the movie with the crowd that was there...people were talking about the performers like they were old pals and some of the audience members are or were friends with the bands. It was like watching old footage of MLK with my mom who was around and active during that time period.

The only thing they could've cut to make the film better was the performance by ShaNaNa, but it was at least short. So that's a thumbs up from me, especially since you can drink at the Angelika.
*and so on

tire iron

I heard a story this weekend. There was an older man, in his 70s, who was having an affair with a much younger woman. One day they were having a bit of fun at his house when he had a heart attack and died. Panicked, the girlfriend dragged him out into the driveway, got the jack out of the trunk, and tried to make it look like he'd died while changing a tire.

Great idea, except she forgot to put his clothes back on.

flies in my eyes

Forensic entomology involves knowing a lot about flies. You have to be able to identify them, figure out how old they are and with information about temperatures, calculate about how old eggs, larvae, pupae and/or adults might be. I've been reading a book on this for quite some time now and I finally got to the chapter that contains the taxonomic keys. Keys are those little tools that give two choices and eventually lead you to an identification, kind of like those "choose your own..." books that were popular when I was growing up. For instance, the key might say something like "three hairs on metathoracic segment distal to coxae...2 or 2 or 0 hairs on metathoracic segment distal to coxae...3". And then at 2 or 3 you get more choices.

There are keys for adults and other stages and tons of fun photos of eggs, etc. You'd think there wouldn't be much of a difference between the eggs of different species within the same genus, but there can be quite a bit if you can see enough detail. Of course I didn't memorize which picture went with which species since I won't have any flesh flies to identify anytime soon, but still it's cool to know that I could identify them if I wanted to.

I'm thinking about donating my corpse to a forensic entomology study when I die...any takers?

cause i'm a wanderer

I've been reading a book that takes place in LA. The main character talks about driving around and how LA people like to get out and just drive even if they're not going anywhere. I've never really understood that until last night.

I was driving around looking for some houses--I'm thinking of buying and wanted to see where a few of them are located. I kept getting lost, which is nothing new since I'm in an almost constant state of Lostness as soon as I leave any of my beaten paths. After a while, though, the act of driving around itself became almost therapeutic. I did eventually find the houses (sidebar: one of them abuts a major highway. I mean literally the end of the backyard is the retaining wall for the freeway.) but the finding wasn't as satisfying as realizing that I could drive a long ways, get a little lost, but quickly figure out where I had gone wrong and put things right. If only the rest of my life were so easily correctable...

oddity in film

Have you ever seen Uncle Vanya on 42nd? It's a theatrical performance on film. There's not much in the way of sets or costumes. In fact I think it's set up as a non-dress rehearsal. I remember at first being put off by the fact that I was watching a theatre on the big screen, kind of like looking at the little girl on the salt container with a picture of a little girl on the salt container etc etc.

We watched Dogville last night. It's a part of a trilogy, apparently, by the director of Dancer in the Dark (quick imdb check says the dude's name is Lars VonTrier) starring Nicole Kidman and a bunch of other actors that you'll recognize and probably already like a lot. It's a film of a theatrical performance as well, although there are some sets, mostly chalk outlines of houses, streets, bushes and a dog, but everyone's in costume and there are sound effects put into the soundtrack. At first I had that uncomfortable feeling, just like at the beginning of Uncle Vanya, but I lost it after a while as I paid more attention to the story and less to the set (although at times the weird set is part of the humor).

Much like Dancer in the Dark, you'll feel a bit down after watching Dogville. However, I did not cry even a little bit. It's very much a look at the darker side of human nature, small town culture, and class relations. Is that a recommendation? Yeah, you should probably see it. Even if the Nicole Kidman part is played by Ron Howard's daughter in the 2nd installment.

dirt and stink

Not only did I not shower for my entire camping trip, my nephew was crawling around in the dirt about 12 hours each day. By the end of Saturday I had come up with a new nickname for him, based on his filth beard: Dirt VanDyke.

I'd forgotten how liberating it is to just say no to showers. I mean, you're going to smell like smoke again about 15 seconds after you get back to your campsite, right? On the downside, my nephew said at one point, "What's that smell--your armpits?"

i'm a decorating fool

I just moved into my new office this week and I finally started decorating it. That pretty much entails hanging up the exact same stuff I had in my cubicle but in different places. The problem is, I've got so much stuff all in different colors and when you walk in, it's sort of like you died and woke up in clown heaven. The oddly bright blue "accent wall" outside isn't helping matters any. Is it over the top to hire a decorator for your (smallish) office?

fairies

In the midst of cleaning up my bedroom, I moved a handful of barrettes from my dresser to the tin where they live in my bathroom. Later I realized that I'd also stuck a few dimes in there. I took them out but they got no further than the back of the toilet. Seeing them there made me think of the tooth fairy. Yes, a toilet fairy, I thought. If I leave her some cash, she'll clean my toilet for me!

A related story: my mom fervently believed in dish fairies as a child. As the only girl, she was assigned the chore of washing up after dinner and she hated it. She would go to the bathroom and pray that the dish fairies would hurry up and clean the dishes for her. I'm wondering now if she tried leaving some coins...

calcium deficit

I met a little kid the other night who likes to make "mmm good" noises when she's eating something yummy. Her mom heard her making really loud lip smacking noises the other day and discovered she's filched some egg shells from the garbage and was crunching away on them. I'm still trying to figure out what she found so tasty about egg shells. Was it something clinging to them from the garbage or the crunchiness or do egg shells have some wonderful flavor only detectable to those under the age of 2?

blubber

I've suddenly gotten very fat. If anyone knows why, please let me know. You can find me at Krispy Creme.

egg mcmouthful

I was reading something the other day about interview faux pas (is that plural? if not, what the heck is the plural? fauxes pas?) and one of the big ones was Don't Talk With Your Mouth Full.

Well, today I went to a breakfast with someone who is interviewing where I work and damned if I didn't talk through a mouthful of eggs (1) and toast (2). Good thing I already have a job.

it crunches

I tend to jump to conclusions and also to imagine the worst possible scenario. For instance, we have these weird little paper slots in our desks that you can pull out and push back in. My colleague keeps her extra writing paper in hers. I've never noticed mine and was having great fun pulling it out and shoving it back in when she said "Mine doesn't go all the way in. It's like something's stuck back there." "It's probably a dead animal," I said. "And I'm smushing it everytime I jam it back in there," she surmised, "but it crunches."

35 my ass

I have this wonderful pic to show the world of this man who responded to an ad I have floating out there. However, since I can't link to it directly and I can't download software here that lets me post the actual pic, I will have to leave it to your imagination. The dude says he is 35, but he looks more like 55-65. Either that or he has some weird skin condition. Anyway, he's standing there with his shirt off, looking all studly, and get this: his jeans are unbuttoned and just slightly unzipped. Mm, doggy! Today's response: a dude whose tagline is "stinking druid hippy". Exactly.

playtime

I'm packing up my faux office in cubeland to move to my real office with walls and everything. I find it somewhat disturbing that I have an entire box full of "decorations and toys" and I have yet to pack my Tom Tierney paper doll collection and my frisbee.

dig them shoes

So my friend is looking for two new pairs of shoes, one to go with a specific skirt before The Season is past and another for a wedding. The wedding is in Italy and she is in the wedding, so the shoes have to be fabulous. We spent a good part of Thursday looking at every pair of strappy sandals in, perhaps, ten stores. By the end, we were getting tired and I had to pee like nobody's business. We stopped by one place which will remain nameless only because I can't remember the name, otherwise I would be blasting it all over the place because...(dramatic pause) the sales clerk was such a mean dumbass. R. explained what she needed and why and the girl took her to a pair of shoes that, as R. said, looked like "REI shoes." She meant that they had tough looking straps and buckles and were actually like a pair she'd seen in REI. She reiterated that she needed something classy. Apparently this was too much for the woman to handle because she walked away from us and said something sotto voce to her co-worker. I assume it was something mean and probably catty, possibly even directed at innocent me who was dressed down, way down, while R. looked cute and matched and had just had her hair done. As we were leaving, R. said, "So, you don't have anything else to show me?" and the woman shouted over her shoulder, "What we have is out!" I said to R. "Somebody took her bitch pills this morning, huh?"

We never did find those elusive strappy sandals.

coffee and cupcakes

Now that I have finished loading my brain, I've been couch hopping and hanging with pals all around the greater Seattle area. Last night I spent with friends from the dot com days, eating bland Chinese food and playing with kitties and baby. Why do all babies and 99.9% of kitties love me so? I am bewitching I suppose.

Currently staying with longtime Seattle gal pal who lives suspiciously near a coffee shop whose tagline is "coffee and cupcakes." We walked over there earlier and got coffee (both) and a cupcake with lemon butter creme frosting (me). Ooof, arteries constricting. However, after a week of eating fruit and salad due to enforced dorm life, a few cupcakes aren't gonna kill me. That's what I continue to tell myself, despite the fact that my gut is hangout out over my jeans.