Looking down Denver's 16th St. Mall, New Year's Eve 2009. Photo courtesy of denverpost.com

So, I pretty much had the best New Year’s Eve ever this year!  How about you guys?

Lil Big Johnny John John and I decided to spend the night in downtown Denver.  The were two fireworks displays (one at 9 pm, one at midnight) on the 16th St. Mall and hanging out with a lot of Denver on the street seemed like the perfect way to spend the holiday.  We stayed at a really nice hotel (The Westin) and made reservations at an amazing French retsaurant (BistroVendôme).  The fireworks, hotel, and restaurant were all within four blocks of each other, so we thought we’d check into the hotel early, “watch tv,” go to dinner, see the midnight fireworks show, then head back to the room to “drink tiny bottles of mini bar liquor.”

Dinner was tres bon!  LBJJJ and I had mussels, a potato and leak amuse-bouche, quiche with a tossed spinach salad, squab with chicken sausage and cabbage, and a red wine poached pear stuffed with a Gorgonzola cheese filling.  There were four courses and each was paired with a wonderful wine.

I made the dinner reservation for 10:30 in the hopes that we could have a nice, leisurely dinner then mosey/amble/saunter down to the fireworks.  We got to the restaurant early, but we had to wait for 15 or 20 minutes before a table in the main room opened up, but I so didn’t care.  The night had been going so well up until then and I was trapped in a glowing bubble of perfect night bliss.

We spent the dawn of the new decade (it’s weird to say that, bye 2000’s!) with funny hats and champagne in the restaurant, but again, didn’t care.  No amount of fireworks or crowds could have overshadowed the romantic night we were having.

Actually, we did see fireworks that night.  They shot them off the building right across the street from our hotel room and we watched the whole show from the window while we were “watching tv.”  C’est Magnifique!

After dinner, we went to a nearby bar for a few vodka drinks before the short walk back to the hotel. There were more good times, but I’m going to wrap it up here.  This is a family blog, y’all…use your imagination.

So yeah, Best.New Year’s.ever!  It wasn’t what we’d initially planned, but it turned out to be an extremely memorable, romantic holiday.

In other news, John and I both changed our dating site profiles to “seeing someone” and told Facebook we’re “In a Relationship” with each other.  So, I guess we’re like, official and stuff.  Squeeeeeeeeee!!!

Tune in next post for some wacky, yet obligatory New Year’s resolutions!

Look there! A visual metaphor for my hopes and dreams!

I got my first “professional” writing rejection today.

I sent this to the McSweeney’s Lists site last week and received a very nice rejection email  from the editor a few minutes ago.  I wrote it specifically for the site and I thought it was pretty good…not good enough, apparently.  I would have liked to know why they didn’t use it, but I’m sure editors never do that and the reason is probably “not funny” or “needs punctuation.”  It was my second submission, but I thought the first one was even less funny than this.  Oh well. I’ll keep trying.

So, since this piece has been officially released from the burden of McSweeney’s publication, I offer you…

A survey of alcoholic beverage bottle label motifs which portend certain dire, vomitous consequences for the hapless consumer should she or he choose to ingest intoxicating quantities of said beverage.

The angry sea captain

A werewolf, mummy, or other creature of the night

Two or more dogs, copulating

A clown, mime, or any member of The Insane Clown Posse

Senator Joseph Lieberman

Any currently-serving Supreme Court Justice

A road map

Any farming implement

A winking elf or gnome

A winking monkey, sloth, or porpoise

Anything winking, really

Jesus

*ed.  ok, I guess this isn’t that funny, but I was really happy with it when I emailed it off.  I think I can do better, but trying to write jokes or purposely funny stuff is a lot harder than I thought it would be.

Tagged: angry sea captain, bad booze bottle labels, comedy, copulating dogs, gnomes and elves, lists, McSweeney's, porpoise, professional rejection, rejection, senator joseph lieberman, sloth, vomitous, writing ]]> http://annahell.wordpress.com/2010/01/03/on-not-getting-published-by-mcsweeneys/feed/ 0 annahell http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/12/22/quantifying-lucky-a-trans-dating-numerical-analysis/ http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/12/22/quantifying-lucky-a-trans-dating-numerical-analysis/#comments Tue, 22 Dec 2009 21:22:34 +0000 annahell http://annahell.wordpress.com/?p=1394 ]]>

Mood:	Wubba wubba wubba
Music:	Carpenters-Superstar!

Therefore, the problem of where I left my sandwich this morning has no solution within the set of complex polynomials and thus, cannot be solved. QED, y'all.

I think I’ve mentioned before how hard it is for us lovely trans-peeps to find El Romance.  The last post and adorable Jamie’s subsequent comment set me to pondering on how truly lucky I am.  It’s easy to forget your good fortune in the grind of life  and I was glad to have the chance to reflect on my happy state of affairs.

After a lot of  fond remembrance and some purring noises, the engineer that lives in my head started asking a bunch of annoying, engineer-y type questions.  How hard was it for me to meet someone, really?  Was it much harder than it is for other, cis-gendered women?  How much harder?  Is there a way to accurately quantify this experience in a rigorous, peer-reviewable fashion?  Have you ever noticed how I start a lot of my blogs with a lot of questions?  What’s up with that?  Is that a persistent trend or just something I’ll tire of in a few months?

Anyway, I’m sure this has been done somewhere else and with more skill and precision, but whatever.  This is my town and I’m just giving the people what they want…numbers and “science”! So, for what it’s worth, I offer you the following analysis and comparison of single Denver trans-girl dating in late 2009.

Approximate US population…308,000,000

If 50% are men…154,000,000

Approximate number of US men aged 25-44 (my dating range)…42,000,000

If 90% of them are straight or bisexual (using the “10% rule”¹)…37,800,000

How many of them live in Colorado (we’re about 7.7% of the US population)?…2,910,600

How many live in the Metro Denver area (about half)?…1,455,300

How many of those guys are “desirable”, e.g. not felons, not sex offenders, not homeless, not certifiably nuts, etc. (assuming 10% “undesirable”¹) ?…1,440,747

How many of those guys would date a transsexual (I have no idea, maybe 1 in 50¹)?…28,815

How many of those guys are the kind of guy who reads books, listens to good music, likes Art, is employed, doesn’t live at home, tolerates cats, isn’t a Republican, makes me laugh, is intelligent, isn’t into domestic violence, knows something about politics and current events, isn’t addicted to sports or Internet porn, isn’t already married/in a relationship/polyamorous, isn’t an alcoholic or drug addict, doesn’t drive a Hummer or monster truck, doesn’t like NASCAR, doesn’t care if I have tattoos, thinks I’m cute, and can take me out and buy me dinner every once in a while (ummm, 1 in 50 maybe¹)?…576

Chance I’ll meet one of these perfect guys on the streets of Denver? about 1 in 2500

Chance a cis-gendered woman with low standards will meet a guy on the streets of Denver? about 1 in 1

Chance a choosy, cis-gendered woman will meet a guy on the streets of Denver? 1 in 50

¹The data provided in these instances is a best-guess estimate, has not been verified, and should not be used as a basis for further academic research.  However, the author encourages ongoing, detailed collection of demographic data in the hopes that such data may one day support the suppositions contained herein.

To put it another way, it’s roughly two orders of magnitude or 50 times more difficult for me to find a suitable suitor compared to a straight, non-transsexual woman of Denver.  Yeesh, when you think about the odds, it almost seems like it’s not worth the bother.  Just kidding!  It’s all totally worth it and I highly recommend it.

So yeah, I’m lucky and I know it, clap your hands.  If you’re with someone, you should clap your hands as well.  If you’re not with someone and you want to be, go out there and find them!  The numbers say it’s far from impossible and not even as remote as winning the lottery or dying in a plane crash.  Chances are, you’re amazing and deserving of love and happiness, so go out there and get it!

Happa-happy Holidays!

p.s. For the record, I don’t believe that luck is a real thing.  However, I do believe that people can put themselves into a positive frame of mind where “lucky” things seem to happen…which is even better.

Heavy Metal Santa rewards the good and punishes (murders) the wicked.

Hey Internets!  It’s me, Anna!

So, I think I’ve watched almost every Lifetime, Hallmark, and TMC Christmas movie this year and I’ve just about reached my breaking point.  Yep, I’m one or two more Whoopi Goldberg or Jenny McCarthy made-for-TV movies away from dropping a Christmas miracle of an unending stream of F-bombs.  I’d better take it easy, there are still four days left until the big day.

I’m finally done with my Christmas shopping and mostly done with the wrapping, but there’s nothing I can do about this raging case of gift dread.  I like to joke that my interest in a person’s gift ends as soon as I put it in their hands, but that’s just me, talking tough.  The embarrassing truth is that I’m gnashing my teeth and wringing my hands with the worry for hours after.

I feel like I’m smart and creative enough to be an amazing gift-giver.  Every new Christmas is a chance for redemption, but I feel like I rarely live up to my own expectations.  Did I spend enough?  Did I spend too much?  Are my gifts too impersonal?  Too weird?  Why didn’t I buy anything from etsy.com or make anything by hand?  Why did I buy my mother a Princess Leia action figure?  Why do I suck at this? Will they like it?  Is my sucky gift a thinly veiled condemnation of the recipient and her/his abhorrent “lifestyle” choices?  Do I harbor a secret, burning hatred for my friends and family?   See what it’s like to be in my head, Internets?!  It’s like a desert filled with billions of jagged, thorny questions all begging to be answered right now.  Then again, it’s also like a little town populated by cats that speak with a British accent and wear clothes and have cat jobs and little gardens.

I’ll do better next year, promise.  I think I’ll make a viva la resolution list later, but I’m really going to try to make some crafty gifts or at least put a lot more thought into them next year.

Holy wow, Brittany Murphy died yesterday.  She was 32.  I had watched and really enjoyed a few of her older movies (esp. Ramen Girl and Love and Other Disasters) this year and I was excited to see what she’d do next.  She was a nice mix of cute, funny, tough, sweet and smart and it’s too bad she had to leave so soon.  Sorry to end on a sad note, but I just heard about it.

I hope you all are having a super great holiday season!

Love and xo, your biggest fan,

Anna

Unicorn: Destroyer of Ponies! by Devin McGrath

One of the unintentional themes of my blog is that I hardly ever follow up on, or finish, any of my stories.  You may have noticed that I love to tease new ideas at the end of a lot of my blog posts, but I rarely come back to them.  Sorry, but I can’t really help it.  It’s like I get bored of the idea as soon as I type the words.  I don’t mean to, Internets and I realize that some sort of narrative thread is a good thing/piques people’s interest (although sweet unicorn art doesn’t hurt, am I right, people?).  In the spirit of turning that around, I offer you the following, vague update on my love life and maybe the metaphorical tying up of other, personal loose ends.

So, if you’ll recall (remember this and this?), the results of Internet Dating Sesh 1.0 were fail.  Internet Dating Sesh 2.0 has been going a lot better and by better, I mean I actually met someone…a guy someone!  …a real, human guy someone!  I’m not going to go into a lot of detail because I’m a firm believer in “personal privacy.”  Also, he reads mah blog and I’d rather not drag him into my unfettered, Innertubes fantasy world and then have to explain my crazy later on when I see him.  “Anna, why did you describe last night’s date as elfin magic?” See, Internets? It could get complicated.  So, I reserve the right to make vague, occasional references to him and the things we do, but it’s not going to be any kind of a regular Blog, Sweet Blog feature.

His name…ok, his nom de guerre, is John.  He’s a little older than me, a little bit taller, and he makes a good living at Internetting.  We’ve been seeing each other at least weekly since our first date on October 15th.  Holy elfin magic, we’ve been dating for two months! Amway, dating is hard, you guys, even under the best of circumstances.  I don’t think I’ve done the analysis for you, but it’s kind of a mega-long-shot for trans people to find someone who makes them happy.  We’re not a perfect couple by any means, and we still have some things to figure out, but I like John and he makes me happy.  It’s way too soon to speculate on the future and our roles in each other’s stories, but for now, we’re definitely dating   Oooh, maybe I should change my dating profile to “seeing someone“?  Or maybe there’s a setting for…”Fuck off losers!  I hate you all and I’m off the market so stick it in your cram holes.  Have fun being single and alone and crying all the time, nerds.  Also, suck it.” That may be a tad wordy/curse-y, but them’s my feelings, y’all.

We went to dinner and a movie on Saturday and it was a good news/bad news kind of night.  The good news is that I had a wonderful time and the Moscow Mule (with fresh ginger, cucumber, and lime)  is my new favorite drink.  The bad news is that Cormac McCarthy’s The Road is not a good date movie and it haunted John all the way home.  If your lady friend suggests seeing it, you should politely suggest a more upbeat alternative.  Perhaps a holiday movie with one of those young people everyone is always talking about or some cute li’l animals?  I lobbied hard to see it (yes, I am a weird girl) and I thought it was a good movie, but yeesh…welcome to Bleaksville.  I can’t wait to read the book!

K, so that’s enough about me and my sickeningly sweet, RomCom of a life.  What else is new?  Well, funny you should ask…I’m getting a new tattoo! I’ve thought about this for a long time now.  I have one tattoo on my arm and I got it when I was 18.  I always wanted to get more (or get the old one removed), but I held off for some reason.  I think I was hoping I would eventually transition and I didn’t want to have a bunch of gnarly, dude tattoos all over the place.  I think I’m ready to continue on with the ambitions of my youth.  I’ll post some art or pictures when I have them, but it’s going to be something about Odin’s two ravens, Huginn and Muninn, but cuter and it’ll be somewhere on my frontspiece…like where the arm meets the chest, one on each side.

I want to have Sandi Calistro do it.  I sent her an embarrassingly-detailed description (they should be about two inches high, not realistic, stylized, but not tribal, mostly black, but with some color, they should each be clutching something like ribbon, but they should both be different, etc. Ugh, even I think I’m bossy.) a few days ago.  Update! I just called her and we made an appointment for a consultation next Tuesday, but her tattoo appointments are booked until like, March.  That  sucks.  I was hoping to get it much sooner than that, but that must mean she’s really good.

Hmm, I thought I had a lot more to wrap up than this.  Oh, my grad school class ended last week.  I never wrote about it again because it was slap-yourself-in-the-face-with-a-shovel boring.  The team project was good (we did a project notebook for a tech startup), but the lectures were not worth the 15 minute walk to campus.  So, I skipped class all the time and turned in a bunch of last-minute genius every week before the start of class.  I got an A but I didn’t collect any amusing class anecdotes.

I’m still not sure what I’m going to do about graduate school.  I took this class for credit as a non-degree graduate student.  It would count toward a major if I could ever decide on one, but I can’t.  I could do a Master’s in Electrical Engineering, Telecommunications Engineering, or get an MBA or Engineering Management degree, but those all sound about as appealing drinking hot wax, over and over again.  Applications for next Spring are due in January, but I don’t feel like finishing one.  Honestly, you guys, the only thing that interests me right now is something in the Arts and there’s a 99% chance of no way my workplace would pay for that.  So, I’m stuck and thinking about what to do/not do next.

Fuck, this is long, sorry.  Re: McSweeney’s, I would love to post all of the hilarious stuff I’m submitting to them, but I should wait until it ever/never gets published.  Oh well, if something gets rejected, I’ll post it here, promise.  Other than all those words about the things, stuff is awesome, I’m très heureux, and loving the Christmas and whatnot.

K, that’s it, for reals…tune in next time for exciting tales of excitement and me not recapping the things I ought to!

Happy holidays!

Perhaps you’ve heard of a little, genius, and at times, ridiculously funny Internet and print publishing venture known as McSweeney’s? If you haven’t, for shame, Internets, really.  Please click the following links to increase your knowledge of “actual post-modernism at its finest” and let’s not let this sort of thing happen again, hmm?

The McSweeney’s Wikipedia page

The Official McSweeney’s site

A page about LOLcats

Anyway, McSweeney’s, love.  I’m no expert on English literature or literary journals, but McSweeney’s is the sort of literary journal a girl like me can really get behind, you know?  It has amazing writing, great art, interesting topics and guests, and it doesn’t seem to take itself too seriously….which is like the literary equivalent of turning lead into gold…because it’s so hard…since they’re always so serious and stuff.

I think I first heard of the site around 2004.  This is one of the first things I read…

…and it still makes me laugh, every time.  They’re all good, but I think the last one is my favorite…apery!

The other day, I decided that I want to become a published by McSweeney’s author, either by the Internet site or the journal.  I’m funny…ok, amusing, at least…and the writing on the site is exactly the sort of writing I’m interested in.  I studied the website submission guidelines (small steps, y’all) and had a look at Blog, Sweet Blog’s back catalog.  You know what?  I do not write like a person who writes for McSweeney’s, at all!  Nope, not even a little bit.  I think I could, maybe, but I’m going to have to start from scratch.  Besides, I have it on good authority that they will not accept “previously published” works, and that includes anything I’ve posted to my blog.  Nevermind.

So, I guess I’m trying to say I’m working on some pieces to submit to McSweeney’s.  The website doesn’t pay anything and I’m not really doing this so I can lord it over all of you (just watch though, I’m totally going to lord it over all of you if I get a book published).  No, this goes back to something someone said to me some time.  I can’t recall any of the details, but I do remember this quote:

“If you want people to see/love your work, you should submit it to places and show it to people.”

Those are wise words, Anonymous Stranger and I’m trying to follow your advice.  As usual, I’ll let you all know if something happens.

Happy Holidays!

p.s. yes, that’s supposed to be falling snow on the site.  It’s not an eye seizure.

So, the other day, I got a comment on my Hott Guyz, Y’all post.  It went something like…

From your list, Noel Fielding takes a & b, hands down. But if we’re talking rock bands & messy hair, I’d say Nikki Sixx is a fairly serious omission.

To which I replied…

I stand by my initial choices (mmm, Russell Brand…the things we could do to each other), but after having seen three seasons of The Mighty Boosh, Noel Fielding does seem like the perfect combination of messy-haired sex god and committed, sensitive, life partner.

Regarding Mr. Sixx, let me begin by saying, “brava, Mrs. Bones. I like your style.” He is still pretty good-looking, but I’m not really a fan. I stopped listening to Mötley Crüe after Shout at the Devil and I lost interest soon after. Still though, as far as messy-haired, sexy rockers go, he’s gotta be in the top five.

Mrs. Bones really got me thinking, though.  Who are these Hott Rocks Guyz, y’all?  What are the qualities I look for in a hott rocks guy(z)?  Is it strictly messy hair or can a talented, sensitive songwriter/musician also get into my pants?  What’s the deal with all the rocking out with the cock out?  Is there an age limit?  Are there any Hott Rocks Girlz that would make the list?  Will Nikki Sixx remain in the top five?  Do any of you understand that I’m referring to my favorite Sleater-Kinney album (The Hot Rock) when I use the term, “hott rocks guyz”?

I suppose you do now, but seriously, it’s a great album…really.  Go buy it from a “record” store or download a digital copy from wherever it is the kids are doing that sort of thing nowadays with the computers and whatnot. Amway, the answers to these questions may surprise you/be found a little bit below this sentence.

I gave this all a lot of thought and put these questions to my friend Wendy one late night after a super succesful shopping excursion.  Which Hott Rocks Guyz would you  do it with? Who would never make the list?  Are there any second-tier Rock Guyz that you might take pity on at the end of the night (see Mayhaps)? Hours later, we had the perfect, exhaustive list of music/artist type-people we’d totally “do it” with.  These aren’t in any particular order and I’ve provided the band names for some of the Guyz if they seem obscure.  I wish I could find pictures of all these guys, but that would take a few minutes less than forever and I have a job and a life and stuff.  Just take my word for it.  There were a few disagreements and those have been italicized for your reading pleasure.  Annotated commentary is provided as appropriate.  As always, comments are appreciated/encouraged.

To the list!

======================================================

1 yep, all of ‘em

2 Wendy says he’s really short, but in the fantasy world where I actually sleep with Danzig, he’s like, 6′1″.

3 At the same time, maybe?

4 I can’t remember which of us passed on Kurt…I’m ambivalent.

5 No, I don’t care that Morrissey is, supposedly, asexual.

6 OK, I realize that Lemmy is just about the ugliest man in rock and roll, but I feel like I owe him…something.  Maybe I should just make him dinner or knit him a rock…thing?

7 I still kind of have a problem with hair metal. I spent the hair metal years as an angry, skate punk and it’s still hard for me to forgive and forget when it comes to that particular sub-genre. Still though, they both have the Nikki Sixx moppy, messy black hair thing going on.

8 Trend alert!  I have a thing for tall, raven-haired, pale rockers.

9 Ew, no way.  Wendy’s position is that he prolly made up for his unfortunate lips and teeth with expert cocksmanship.  To me, it matters not, still ew.

10 A crush so old, it’s positively developmental.

11 Well worn territory.

12 LOL, this should be its own post.  We started off talking about rock crushes, but veered into hip hop after someone dropped an LL Cool J.  I was trying to think of some other good-looking rappers, and I blurted out “Lil John!”  Wendy countered that no one is sure what he looks like because he’s always wearing huge sunglasses, mouth jewelry, and a baseball cap.  But still, he made us laugh so hard, he’s staying on the list.

13 Admittedly, Los Beatles did not immediately spring to our minds, too old.  However, at the end of the night, we placed them in order, as you do…Paul, George, John, and Ringo.

14 I think I was pro and Wendy was con.  He’s a weird-looking guy to be sure, but anyone that has written “Gimme Danger” and slept with David Bowie is ok by me.

15 This is kind of a Lemmy thing again, but he’s the cutest Melvin.

16 I’d have to go back to Throbbing Gristle-era Genesis.  He’s mostly female now and has had more genital piercings than any sane person should.

17 Yes, I know he’s gay.

18 Wendy says he looks weird.  I say any man that’s good enough for Beyoncé is good enough for me.

19 I’m against, Wendy’s for.  I love his music, but there are better looking, goth-y singers.

20 I’m against, Wendy’s for.  Even though he fits 8, I’m not really a fan.

21 After we make love, he could sing a medley of “Ghost Town”, “Nightclub”, and “Things Could Be Beautiful”!

22 I think it’s the eye patch.

23 Maybe the Gary Oldman version.

24 Wendy said he’s an asshole too.

25 The reason I’m against is because I saw the Red Hot CHili Peppers at The Ranch Bowl (live music + bowling!) in Omaha when they toured in support of The Uplift MoFo Party Plan.  It was a great show, but I distinctly remember the goobery snot and boogers around Flea’s mouth area during the show.  It’s like he entered some sort of idiot savant zone and his brain temporarily traded an interest in personal hygiene for amazing bass playing.  His boogers haunt me to this day.

26 I LOVE this band, but there is no way I would ever sleep with any of them.  Greg Norton was the best looking of the bunch, but that giant moustache made him look more like a Tom of Finland model than a gentleman a straight woman should “spend time with.”

27 You know what, Internets?  Fuck Social Distortion, fuck Mike Ness, and fuck you if you like them.  This band is/was about as punk as The Starland Vocal Band and all the people out there that claim them as some sort of punker than thou link to their youth are nothing but first degree posers.  I’m so sick of people claiming them like they were the only/best punk band to make it out of the 80’s.  If you like them…really like them, then we can’t be friends.  Sorry.  Also mega-dumb: Jimmy Buffett and Dave Matthews Band.

28 It’s too bad really.  If he would have just kept his German yap shut about file sharing and music piracy, he could have had a shot with me.

29 Ok, these days, whenever I think of David Lee Roth or 80’s hair metal, the only thing that comes to mind is Dr. Roxo, the rock and roll clown, and his music video.

30 We had a long talk about this one.  Slash could be a good-looking guy if he took a shower, put on a shirt, stopped dangling that one cigarette out of his mouth, washed his hair, stopped wearing that big, dumb top hat, and put down his guitar for like, one day.

31 Under the right circumstances (booze, drugs, Christmas, peace in the Middle East), his talent outweighs his physical limitations.

It’s been a while since I posted some art…too long, I think.

A special fella took me to that Barnaby Furnas exhibition at the MCA a week or two before I got sick and it was a-mazing. I literally got weak in the knees and swooned a little bit in front of the main painting (the one that looks like Flood, might be Flood).  It was gigantic (like 15 feet tall x 20 feet across), and violent and sickly beautiful.  Honestly, I could have stared at it for another two hours.  There were two other really good ones, as well.  I still might go back for some more slack-jawed, awe gazing before it closes.

So anyway, too long without art…I think my recent hospital stay and the thrilling end of my grad school class this week both contributed to moving my finger farther from the pulse of arts on the webs.  In other words, I haven’t been keeping up on the art blogs and I haven’t randomly stumbled across any pieces I immediately fell in love with. So, today’s post is kind of a grab bag of pieces I found over the last hour.  They’re all good and worthy of blog space, but I kind of felt compelled to find something to fill the page.  And if you’ve noticed, I keep trying to branch out and share new styles.  I love pop surrealism and cutesy, brightly colored anything, but I feel one-note if that’s all I ever post.  I hope you appreciate the variety

Anyway…

Zombie Bank by Wendy White

Track by Wendy White

The two above are amazing.  It took me about 30 seconds  to move from dismissive to captivated.  It’s like they’re alluding to being reminiscent of graffiti and cheap spray paint…they’re so good, it’s sickening.  I love it when artists post their pieces to a website chronologically; you can see how they’ve developed their style and where they might be going.  If you look at Wendy White’s earlier pieces on her site (click one of the paintings), it’s clear that she’s reached a point where she has mastered this particular aesthetic.  <3 <3 <3!

PAGES 34 AND 35 by Manfred Aescher

Same with this one above, go to his site and look at the series for a while.

3a by Allison Grant

The Old Quarry by Justin McAllister

you first by Beau Chamberlain

21st Century boys & girls golden mountain by SSIN

So, I had my gall bladder removed on Friday the 13th.

See? I’m not making this stuff up, you guys.  My life is as dramatic and exciting as my blog makes it out to be.  Now if I could just figure out how to channel that excitement into more of a jet-setting, wealth-building, award-winning sort of direction.

I was going to do a giant, excruciatingly detailed, daily account of the preceding illness and subsequent surgery, but I don’t really have it in me anymore.  Maybe it’s the pain pills talking?  Maybe this is my body’s reaction to a new, gall free existence?  Perhaps my “brush” with “death” has made me reorganize the priorities of my life/blog?  Ah, so many questions…

Anyway, the short version is that I started getting really sick that Wednesday (Veteran’s Day).  It felt like I had a bad stomach ache that wouldn’t go away and I was nauseous and feverish.  I wasn’t feeling any better on Thursday and had developed a pain in the right side of my abdomen, just below my ribs.  So, I made an appointment with my doctor.

The doctor told me there was something wrong with my gall bladder and that I needed to go to the emergency room to have an ultrasound.  Wendy drove me to Rose Medical Center (wonderful hospital btw, everyone was super nice and professional) and I got an ultrasound, some excellent, intravenous pain medication, and admitted to the hospital just before midnight. I had surgery at noon the next day.

I was supposed to have a laparoscopic cholecystectomy, but the surgeon switched to an open cholecystectomy (meaning, they cut open my abdomen the old-fashioned way) when he discovered that my bladder de gall was gangrenous, full of stones, and falling apart.  I stayed at the hospital for three more days and I’ve been home ever since.

I’m fine now, thanks for asking.  I had my staples out last Friday and I feel about 75% of normal.  But abdominal surgery isn’t something I recommend for, you know, kicks and stuff.  I’m glad they were able to take out my accursed gall bladder without incident, but I’ll not darken their door again…if I can help it.

The doctor said I could go back to work this week, but I decided to take the rest of it off.  We have a short work week due to the Thanksgiving holiday and I don’t feel great about a long commute in my delicate condition.  So, I’ll be back to work on the 30th.

Wowser, that wasn’t shorter at all, sorry.  So, what else is new?  Um, my Mom and Aunt’s visit went really well.  I have more to say about it, but I’m getting really sick of writing.  Stay tuned.  Also upcoming: a list of rock guys Wendy and I would totally do it with and how I started dating Lil John, sort of.

I hate to push my part of the novel out of the way and off the radar, but I feel duty-bound to share this with you, weary reader.  I’m sure it’s been around for a while, but I just saw it today.  So shut up.

Ladies and Gentleman, I offer you the following, new favorite website…

Glamourpuss:  The Enchanting World of Kitty Wigs

I think the included, "I want a pony!" caption says it all.

<3 <3 <3

Dear Fiction Lovers,

As promised, moments ago, here is the second part (Part 1 can be found here) of our thrilling, though as-yet unnamed collaborative novel on downsizing, outsourcing, and the cruelty of youth.  I hope you like it.

Sincerely, your biggest fan, etc.

Anna

—————————————————————————————-

Allison automatically flopped out of bed at half-past seven in the morning.  She stumbled and weaved her way through a field of dirty clothes to the bathroom toilet and threw up.  She recounted the story of last night in the tea leaves of the toilet. Date. Brad. Señor Verde’s. Chile rellenos. Margaritas.  Small talk. Jobs.  What are we doing? Cry. Cab. Wine. Sex. Cry. Hangover.

“Fuck.” Allison unfurled a wad of toilet paper from the roll and blew her nose into it.  “Maybe I’m getting too old for this?”

She stood, gracelessly, and walked over to the sink.  The bathroom mirror reflected a red-eyed, pale, hung-over, but pretty brunette in her late 20’s.

“I don’t know.  Is 32 old?”  She asked the sobering drunk in the mirror who kept pulling at and stretching her face.  “You don’t look 32.  You could still pass for…”  She squinted her eyes tight and cocked her head to the side.  “…28?”  She slapped the underside of her chin a couple of times and practiced saying her assumed age.  “Twenty eight… I am 28…TWENty eight …Twunee ATE…TwenTEE ATE-ee…maybe even 27?”

She smiled and playfully, arched her left eyebrow, and pointed a finger gun at the mirror.  “Yeah, that’s right…you’re Allison Fucking Haley and you’re young, popular and sex-.“

Allison Fucking Haley took one last, pitying look at the pretty drunk girl in the mirror before retching the last of last night into the sink.

A glassful of Anti-throwupy Seltzer whatever (Allison had a rare, but powerful immunity to branding) and a super-hot shower later, she was busy playing Fashion Show.

Fashion Show was Allison’s term for her borderline psychotic trying-on of everything in her closet (and on her floor).  It usually only manifested itself on the bad days, when she felt nervous or hated the sight of the girl in the mirror.  Most women try on a few outfits before leaving the house.  The smart ones plan out their outfits for the week on Sunday night.  Allison wasn’t a plan-ahead sort of girl, but she rarely had a problem with deciding what to wear.  If she hadn’t decided on something within the first fifteen or twenty minutes, she was playing Fashion Show.

Allison had been playing Fashion Show a lot lately.  She’d already been at it for 45 minutes and was in the middle of taking off a flouncy, long, gray blouse, blood red cardigan, black tights, and knee high boots combination she liked to call Bohemian Rhapsody #3 on good days.  Today she called it, “too Bohemian.”

“I’m going to get fired.  I’m going to get fired. I’m going to get fired.”

The blouse Allison had been pulling over her head suddenly snagged on something and stopped moving, trapping her inside.  “And then I’ll be homeless…” She pulled at the back of the blouse with both hands and heard a faint, ripping sound.  “…and I’ll have to sell drugs.” She unhooked her favorite black bra from outside of the shirt, freed the blouse, pulled it and the blouse over her head, “…and give out hand jobs for hobo chili”, and threw both of them on the ground.”

“Ugh, forget this.”  She slipped a pair of midnight blue, skinny jeans from one of the closet hangers and pulled them on.

“Yassmen is going to walk into the art department today and fire people on sight.”  Allison did her best impression of Yeseam Yassmen’s icy-weird, snobby Southern drawl for the empty bedroom. “You there, young man with the glasses…and you, weird girl…”  Allison plucked a baby blue, Mates of State t-shirt from the floor and put it on.  “…please collect your sad things and bric-a-brac and take them outside.”

She grabbed a vintage, green angora cardigan from the back of her desk chair and stepped into a pair of pewter-colored, metallic flats.  She walked to the full-length mirror in the corner of her bedroom and took a last, quick look before walking into the kitchen.

The clock on the microwave was a welcome sight.  “8:45. Ok, not bad.  I’m going to be late, but not late late.”  She put on her sunglasses and a scarf, put her keys into her mini-messenger bag, and walked out into the stairway of her building.

Allison speed-dialed Jacob the moment she stepped out of the apartment building.

“Good morning, sexy”

“Why Allison Haley, it’s been ages since last night.  How the hell are you?”

“Hung over, a little sad, stressed out.”

Jacob made that annoying tut-tut sound.  “Sorry to hear that.  Are you calling in sick?”

Allison snorted, “Are you kidding?  That’s like begging to get laid off.  I’d rather leave Clearwater the old fashioned way…through random, brutal downsizing.  No, but I’m going to be a teensy bit late.  Would you be my favorite boy in the world and cover for me if anything should, you know, come up?”  She crossed the street to the coffee cart near the downtown bus stop and gestured her way through a large coffee purchase while Jacob spoke.

“Dangit Allison, I can’t.  I have a meeting at 9:30 and you’d better be here before it’s over.  You know how it’s been around here lately…like the Great Purge but without all the nice Stalin.”

“Crap.”  Allison added a large amount of half and half and brown sugar to her coffee and stirred it.  She leafed through her mental employee directory for another patsy.  No one else came up.  “You know Alan got fired, right?”

Jacob repeated the name a couple of times out loud as if that alone would transfer Alan from forgotten to remembered. “Alan…Alan.  Who’s Alan again?”

She made her way to the line of commuters at the bus stop.  “Alan Lambert…from Accounting?  Nice guy…big chin…he helped you move last summer.”

“No way!  The Chin got fired?  He seemed like a lifer.”

“I know, right?  He’d been there for 15 years.  It’s like the worst lottery ever.”

“Totally.”

“Wanna know the really fucked up part?

“Go on…”

The downtown bus stopped at the curb.  Allison stepped on, showed the driver her Eco-Pass, and found a seat.  “Yassmen didn’t even have a meeting with him or bring HR down.  Someone called his house and left a message…”

“Nuh-unh, really?”

“…with his seven year-old daughter!”  In a deeper voice, she joked, “…and when your Daddy gets home, tell him he doesn’t have a job any more.”

“Wow, that’s some evil shit right there.  I’m pretty sure Yassmen is the Devil, Allison.  She’s gotta be.  It’s like she runs on human misery.”

Allison drained the last of her coffee.  “Yup.”

“Wait, how do you know so much about The Chin’s home life?”

“Jen told me.  She’s keeping track of them all…like a modern Domesday book for corporate deaths.  You should check out her scrapbook.  It’s sick, but kind of…beautiful, in a way.  She’s doing a website too.”

“You two are weird.”

“Oh,and you’re not?  I’ve seen your apartment, Jacob.  The Sailor Moon is getting to be a bit, how do you say, creep-a-roo?”

“Hey, manga and anime are very well respected-“

Allison cut him off.  “I don’t have time for your nerd babble, Jacob.  I’m already late for work and I’ve already heard this, numerous times.”

She sighed and watched the passing buildings of downtown KC, her adopted home.  It was early autumn, her favorite time of year, but the street trees still thought it was summer.  It had been three autumns since she left art school and she hadn’t yet gotten the hang of the whole day job, “career” thing.  It had been getting better, but the layoffs and constant threat of downsizing had a way of arresting her development.  She’d spent three months of Saturdays looking for another job in a publishing house art department.  There didn’t seem to be any jobs like that left in the city.  Unfortunately, the drama at Clearwater was being played out on stages all over town.

Jacob was talking again. “What’s that?”

“I said, don’t be hurtful, Allison.”

“Ugh!  Are you coming to my show tonight, or what?”

“What’s this now?  What show?”

“Don’t even.  I told you about this, weeks ago.  The Loose Knit Collective is having its semi-annual show at Le Space.  I’m showing my photographs tonight.  You said you’d be there.”

“Oh, right…that adorable little hobby of yours.  Are you showing the ones with little kittens and the ice cream in the bathtub…”

“No, head trauma…” an elderly woman turned toward Allison and frowned disapprovingly.  Allison frowned back and turned the other way.  “…that was last time and it was called, Kitten Me Softly.  This is the new one…with the bathroom graffiti.”

In a bad, French accent, Jacob answered. “Oui, but of course I vill be zer, Mees Arbus.”  Jacob dropped it.  “I’ll even wear a jacket.”

Allison tried a sultry purr, “Mmm, you know just what I like, don’t you Daddy?” and then it was gone.  “Oh!   And come early.  And bring some wine.  Do you have any raw meat?”

“What?!  No.  Why?”

“Violet Strange is performing at midnight.  It’s a new show…something about her father, the Moon, and menstrual cycles.  She said she needed more raw meat.”  Allison signaled for her stop.

“Gross. I hate performance art.  And no, I don’t have any raw meat to spare…for that.”

“Oh, don’t be that way.  I like Violet and I’m just trying to help her out.  K, sooo…you, Le Space, seven o’clock, sexy jacket, cheap wine,…”  Allison flashed back to the dream publishing job she used to love and the grim warzone her workplace had become.  “Oh, and try not to get fired today, ok?  Kisses!”

The bus pulled up to the curb two blocks east of 3M (or Mini Monkey Monolith on account of it looks just like a squatter version of the featureless, obsidian, ape magnet in 2001: A Space Odyssey) or, as it was more commonly known, Clearwater Publishing Plaza.

Jacob replied, “you’re one to talk Latey McLatelate.  See you soon.”, and hung up.

Allison put away her phone and hurried the rest of the way from the bus stop to her cubicle.

Dear Fiction Lovers,

Holy crap.  I know I said we’d start this NaNoWriMo project near the beginning of the month and here it is the 10th already.  Still, better late than never, right? Right?

We’ve already had some problems.  Two people dropped off the team and I’ve had a hard time finishing my first part.  The lovely Miss Rebecca Ruhlman put up her part a while ago, but it’s going to be a little bit harder for us to finish since there are only two of us.  Don’t worry Internets, we’ll make it work.

As I said before, the as-yet unnamed story is about young, media types dealing with downsizing and outsourcing at a large publishing company.  Part 1 can be found here. Come back in a few minutes for my part, Part 2.  Oh, and since this is the first sort of collab novel I’ve ever done, go easy on us, ok?  I appreciate constructive criticism, but it might take us a few iterations to work out the continuity issues and plot bugs.  Bear with us, but feel free to comment.

Love,

Anna

*ed.  I’ve already written this blog, but lost the whole thing because I forgot to log in.  The first version was awesome, but I can’t remember it.  Sorry if this one isn’t as good, Internets. There’s a lesson in there somewhere.

Ugh, I’ve been feeling so off for the last month or two.  It’s not really a depressed kind of thing (or maybe it is), but it’s been really hard for me to generate interest for anything beyond bathing, watching television, writing emails, blogging, feeding the cat, and doing homework.  I’m constantly late to work.  I haven’t been eating much.  My sleep pattern is more of a random process and the mail is unopened, my house is unclean, and my to-do list is undone.  I’m not sure why I’m feeling Maybe it’s because my mother and my aunt are flying out here on Friday.

It’s hard to believe that it has been almost  a year since I came out to my family and friends.  For the most part, people have been sweet and accommodating…my mother is an exception.  She lives out-of-state and she’s had a very hard time with this.  Since coming out, we’ve only spoken on the phone once about ten months ago and traded a very few, terse emails.

I’ve tried every trick I could think of to bring her around.  I’ve sent her the sweet, “it’s no big deal, I’ll wait” email, the pleading, “why don’t you love me?” email, and the angry, “screw you, I’m better off without you” email.  Nothing seemed to work.

The last time I tried one of my special emails, she sent me a reply that said she was still trying to come to terms with this. She told me she’d tried counseling and asked how she could see my YouTube videos. Heartened by the sudden turn for the better, I sent her video instructions and encouragement. Weeks went by without another word.

She called my sister at some point. From what my sister said, it was almost as if she’d gone backwards in her progress and acceptance of me. My mother was all, “have you talked to your brother lately?” and “how is he doing?” It was beyond infuriating and I felt angry, sad, and powerless…again.

Unless you’ve gone through this, it might be hard to understand how this all feels. I still had a mother, theoretically, but she didn’t seem to want to have anything to do with me and, try as I might, there was nothing I could do to make her feel differently.  And it’s not like I suddenly became a Nazi or a pedophile. This is a recognized medical condition, she’s a nurse, and this isn’t totally without precedent in my life. I’m still a college graduate, and an electrical engineer, and good at my job, and a tax payer, and a voter, and I have friends, and I’ve never been convicted of anything more serious than a traffic misdemeanor.  I’m also an adult and I have lived a great deal of my life without having to rely on my parents for money or esteem-boosting.  Still though, it’s an awful feeling to be shunned by anyone, especially a parent.

My sister and I came up with one last idea.  I would send her a copy of True Selves along with a positively frigid, “this is your last chance” email and wait for her response.  I sent the email and book about a month ago.  Four days later, she sent me an email saying she had read the book in one sitting and was planning to come out to see my sister and I some time soon.  A week or so after that, she sent me another letter saying that she had purchased two airline tickets and wanted to know who was going to pick them up from the airport.  Apparently, True Selves is a magical tome forged from unicorn tears and fairy wings under the light of a pregnant moon.

So yeah, I’m nervous and excited.

I’m excited because I actually miss my mother and I desperately want her to be a part of my life.   I may have discussed this before, but my childhood was…different.  My parents divorced when I was seven and my little sister and I spent most of our childhood moving between parents and states and addresses, usually once every year or two.  As the eldest, I’ve always felt like the peacemaker, the caretaker and I’ve never been happy with my family’s cool indifference toward each other.  We barely talk to each other and, when we do, it’s usually through gritted teeth and pursed lips.  The half-closed mouth is a guard against accidentally speaking our mind or unleashing a torrent of pent-up hostility and recrimination.  I think other Scandinavian/W.A.S.P.-types roll the same way.

And so, with that sort of history, is it any wonder that the little, seven year-old girl in me wants to fix her family?  I wanna have one of those movie families where people love each other and support one another and often choose to be in the same room with one another because they enjoy each other’s company.  I think I’ve made good progress with my father, hopefully the same will be true with my mother.

I’m also nervous.  For one thing, she’s bringing my aunt with her.  My aunt and I have never been that close, so she must be a traveling ally/mobile support system.  Which is fine, I guess.  My aunt is part of my family and I might as well get right with her while we’re at it.

I’m also nervous because I’m not sure what to expect.  Mom mentioned that we’re going to have a “talking party”…whatever that is.  Honestly, if she’s not planning to lead off with a day-long hug while gently whispering, “I’m so sorry” over and over again, then I’m not sure what we have to talk about.

People who like me say I’m “strong-willed” and that I “speak my mind.”  People who don’t like me say I’m a “mouthy bitch who should shut her fucking know-it-all, pie hole every once in a while.”  The truth’s in there somewhere, Internets.  If I’m as serious about making the peace as I claim to be, it might help to try being sweet, patient, and accommodating…just this one time.  Or maybe I’ll just drink a lot.

So, fun family weekends ahoy!  They leave sometime on Sunday and I’ll update you some time after.  Until then…

I was getting ready to go out on a date the other day, and “Garbageman” by The Cramps came on the bathroom boombox. I love The Cramps and I miss them.  They kind of hung it up when their lead singer, Lux Interior traded in his mortal coil for a halo and a new pair of skin-tight, snakeskin pants in February of 2009.  I was lucky enough to see them once at The Ogden on New Year’s  Eve in 2000.  It was a magical show.





Lux spent the entire night slowly stripping off his clothes and channeling the illegitimate swamp demon spawn of  Wanda Jackson and Frank Booth.  Ivy, Lux’s wife and The Cramps’ lead guitarist, serenaded his breakdown behind a giant, gold Gibson (295?).  At this point, both of them were in their middle 50’s and they still looked and sounded amazing. I think they could have gone for another fifteen years, at least.

Lux and Ivy were freaks.  They worshiped at the altar of low-brow, uniquely American kulture and cloaked themselves in B-sci-fi/horror and exploitation flicks, hot rods, two-fisting amphetamines and nitrous, sleazy sex, motorcycle gangs, go-go dancers, fetish magazines, hillbilly records, pulp fiction, switchblades, gender-bending, circus side shows, kinky pinups, and depravity.  In other words, The Cramps were my kind of people.

Lux Interior and Poison Ivy

The world was a far more interesting place with The Cramps in it, and they will be missed.

…yeah it’s just what you need,
when you’re down in the dumps,
one half hillbilly and one half punk,
big long legs and one big mouth,
the hottest thing from the north to come out of the south…

The Cramps-Garbageman

…well my mama had twin babies,
on one sweet summer day,
she beat one in the head,
and I’m the one the got away,
protected by my wighat,
and my Fredrick snakeskin pants
I rode my horse to Hollywood,
and did a wondrous dance…

The Cramps-Call of the Wighat

Rock’n'roll is so great that everyone in the world should think it’s the greatest thing that’s happening. If they don’t, they’re turds.

Lux Interior

I don’t feel great about reposting some of the emails I receive from potential suitors.  Making fun of people for poor grammar or ignorance is too easy and leaves me feeling hollow and dead inside.  I’d like to think I’m more of a candle-lighter than a darkness-curser.

Then again, every once in a while, I get a special letter from a special fella that is simply too good to pass up.  Like, so good that I feel like I’m doing the Internet a disservice by only sharing it with my closest girlfriend.  We’ve been through a lot, Internets and I don’t want to disserve(?) you.  Maybe I can post this and mock it as a way to educate some of the men folk out there in the dating pool?  Maybe said men folk will read this and really think twice about the sort of nonsense they’re sending us.  I know, I’m not holding my breath either.  Anyway…

To the commentary bullets!

•  First, let’s cut to the chase… Wow, spooky.  How did he know that the exact kind of man I’m into is a chase-cutting, man-of-action, kind of man?  It’s like he’s living inside my mind.

•  …regarding the gender thing. I’m thinking the phrase, “if you have to ask…” applies here.  Whatever.  Maybe I could be more clear, but I think most people understand what I’m about.

•  I’m not sure how to read “pre-op transsexual woman”. Hmm, an excellent point.  This site may answer some of your questions.

•  Could you also explain the “Hell” part of your username? LOL, genius…I wish I’d written that.  Well, if you insist…  You see, I use Anna Hell as my nom de guerre because I’m a crazed, devil girl who worships the dark lord of the infinite abyss and leaves a trail of broken hearts and disemboweled lovers in her wake.  Also, I suck men’s souls out through their penis.  Just kidding, it’s an old family name…from Finland or whatever.

•  I am straight but seem to be bi-curious…I am rather turned on by “chicks with dicks”.  Awww,  it’s my first “chicks with dicks” email!  And, I think you can go ahead and just say you’re bi-curious…bisexual even.  That’s kind of like saying, “I think I might be interested in learning about indecision.”

•  I seem to be one of those really “hard to match” people. Get out of town!  Really?  I, for one, cannot believe he’s “hard to match.”  It makes no sense that a silver-penned wordsmith who makes “maps or just geo-data” is still single.  Curse you, o cruel world, why dost thou let yon earthbound angel suffer in solitude?

•  You sure sound interesting and I like your pics, too. Oh, so you like my “pictures” and you think I’m “interesting”, hunh?  Well, screw…crap, I can’t think of anything snarky to say.  I like smiley-face emoticons and that’s actually a nice sentence and representative of “things I like to hear.”  Next time, just build your letter on that and drop the insulting, awkward, over-sharing.

Class dismissed.

To commemorate NaNoWriMo, me and my new, competitive novel-writing team/crafting guild/crime-fighting society/comedy posse, Kittens of Infamy (rowwr!), is going to be dropping our first project on you like a white-hot hairball, any day now. So, consider yourself warned…and invited…to read.

The idea is simple.  There are four of us at the mo, and we’ll each be contributing ~1000 words to a novel every four days in a serial fashion, and posting the results and linking to the previous installments on each other’s blogs…like a more structured exquisite corpse.  At the end of the month (or thereabouts), we’ll have a new, award-winning novel and will start setting appointments to appear on Oprah, The Colbert Report, and Fox and Friends…or something.

Yes, this may, in fact, be the project that kills me (along with work busy-ness, the culmination of my grad school class, dating, regular blogging, and the rest of life), but so what.   I’m happy to be more busy and I kind of thrive on nausea-inducing, artificial pressure.

So, join us, won’t you?  Here are some inspirational team graphic kittens to tide you over.

I care about you and how your week is going, kittens.   So, I offer you the following The Donnas lyrics and souvenir photos in the hope that they might propel you to award winnin’, beautiful cupcake bakin’, super-duper weekend-havin’, booty gettin’ greatness.

Don’t wanna go to the mall,
Don’t wanna go to the movies,
I think we’ve done it all,
Just take me to the backseat!
The Donnas-”Take Me to the Backseat”

Also,

You should listen to us, we're awesome.

and,

Seriously.

and finally,

Why aren't you listening to us, right now?

I think I’ve made it abundantly clear that I love music. I like talking about it and writing about it and wallpapering my bathroom with it whenever I can.  I’ve been thinking of this post for a while now and I have a lot of questions.

Why do I like the music I like?

What sorts of songs move me and why?

What makes a great album great?

Should I buy a monkey?

Is it legal to keep a monkey in the house?

If I brought a monkey home, would it throw monkey feces at my kitty?

These are all important questions to ask yourselves, Internets. I’m going to try and help you with some of them, but you’ve got to do the rest on your own…there’s no substitute for good, honest work.

Monkeys aside, these aren’t the most artistically challenging, or earth shattering of Music’s albums, but they always make me happy and I sing along whenever one of these albums comes on.  And sometimes, as you’ll soon learn, these songs literally make me weep with joy.

So, in the spirit of musical devotion and charity, I offer you, in no particular order, the five albums that I like best in the world.

XTC-Skylarking

I love, love, love XTC and I’m not sure that they get the credit they’re due here in Magic America…or even the Magic United Kingdoms for that matter. They don’t tour or perform live at all due to paralyzing stage fright and I think that’s hurt their popularity. I’m sure the fact that they broke up a few years ago doesn’t help either.  They have a lot of great (and some not so great) albums, but this is far and away my favorite.

Skylarking uses the framework of the season cycle to examine the important events in a life. It starts with young lust and romantic love in the summer and moves through cosmic introspection and death in the winter.

This album is so good, but the why defies description. It’s like they perfectly captured the warmth of the Sun and stolen kisses and the smell of summer grass and fear and bumblebees and jealousy and the end of a holiday and regret and apples and mortality in a jar and transformed them into beautiful, little songs.

I love this album so much that I’m literally getting the weepies from thinking about it.

Superchunk-Foolish

Remember that time you fell in love with the lead singer of your band? Remember how wonderful it was to be young and with your love every day? Remember how band practice and live shows instantly got more fun?

Remember that time you broke up with him? Remember how sad he was? Remember how everyone in the whole fucking world knew that you two had broken up because you were in a well-known indy rock band? Remember how you were asked about it over and over again in interviews? Remember how awful band practice and shows got to be after that?

Remember that time after the breakup when he came into practice and said, “hey y’all, I just wrote a bunch of new songs for the next album!” and every.single.one. of them was about you and your dead relationship and how much he loved you and how badly you’d hurt him?

No? Well, me neither, but this actually happened to Superchunk’s Mac McCaughan and Laura Ballance. Laura (the bass player and the one on the album cover) broke up with Mac (the singer/songwriter) sometime before Mac wrote the songs on Foolish.  I know, right?

I figured this out one day when I was working at a summer camp in college. I was sitting on my bed, listening to “Saving My Ticket”and it clicked together like Lego. I listened to it again from the start and cried for the rest of the album.  It’s not immediately obvious from the lyrics, but it’s like you can hear the giant, girl-shaped hole in his heart–it’s so raw and naked. The songs are crushingly sad, but they’re also smarter and rock harder than anything else that came out that year. I’ve been listening to this album on and off for almost 15 years and it still move me, every time.

Ben Folds Five-Ben Folds Five

The first time I ever heard a Ben Folds Five song (Jackson Cannery, maybe?), I was sitting in a Ft. Gordon AIT barracks in Augusta, GA, listening to some local radio. I’d like to think we were some of the first people to hear BFF due to our proximity to their North Carolina home, but who knows.

I don’t recall a lot of good music from the early/mid Nineties, but this album sounded like it was straight from Mars. It’s smart, funny, and band geeky weird and I instantly fell in love with Mr. Folds. The good songs on this album are more fun, exuberant, interesting, and sing-along-y than any other album I own.

Oasis-(What's the Story) Morning Glory?

Ok, I realize some of you may have “opinions” about Oasis and whether they’re a “good” band or not. Frankly, I don’t care and I suggest you take your hatred of Oasis and shove it up your bum shoot. I like this album, ok? I know every word to every song and sing along to it at least once a week. So there.

I’m not going to deconstruct the album or explain why it’s so good. It’s like the blue sky on a summer’s day or making out with that hot guy from Calculus class the first time. It’s just…right. Unfortunately, non-Morning Glory Oasis mostly stinks like Continental cheese, but whatevs. I’d much rather have one great album and a bunch of stinkers than a load of Creed any day.

The Smiths-Louder Than Bombs

The Smiths are pretty fucking close to my favorite band in the world, ever.  Like you, I was a troubled, too-smart, well-read misfit and Morrissey touched me in a way no other fey, asexual, Oscar Wilde-y Englishman ever had. The Smiths taught me how to be arch and clever (and wrap it up into an adorable, poppy package), but they never did much for my heterosexuality.

I love all of their albums. This isn’t really an album, more of a compilation with some new songs thrown in.  However, this is the The Smiths album I would take with me to the South Pole…or into outer space (the desert island thing is cliché and over, people).

Still unconvinced?

Young bones groan
And the rocks below say :
“Throw your skinny body down, son !”
But I’m going to meet the one I love
So please don’t stand in my way

and

Sing me to sleep
Sing me to sleep
And then leave me alone
Dont try to wake me in the morning
cause I will be gone
Dont feel bad for me
I want you to know
Deep in the cell of my heart
I will feel so glad to go

Check and mate, Internets.

And now, dear friends, I encourage you to respond in kind with your own five, happy-inducing albums of music.

I’m having a hard time finding the motivation to start my homework.  Maybe a little light blogging will point me in the right direction?

So, one of the reasons I like this new dating site is because they have all of these personality tests and compatibility questionnaires.  The site uses your answers to assign a compatibility score (prolly like eharmony and such) that other members can see.  I like that I can weed out people that are opposed to gay marriage or hate animals…it’s easier than doing it in person.  I also like taking some of the personality tests on the site.  I hate it when other people just post results to their “What Kind of Corn Are You?” quiz (corn salsa), but I’m going to be a quiz-result-posting jerk just this one time…hopefully you won’t think less of me.

I’m posting these today for a couple of reasons.  First, these actually do say something about me (or the person I think I am).  More importantly though, I’m amazed that I’m so easily pegged.  I’ve always fancied myself an exotic, mysterious enigma of a girl and these damn Internet tests seem to see right through me.  And that is…vexing.

LOL, this song just came on…

brains for dinner
brains for lunch
brains for breakfast
brains for brunch
brains at every single meal,
why can’t we have some guts?

Anyway, vexed.  Am I so transparent?  Were my years spent in study of the dramatic and psychological arts for nothing?  Time will tell, I suppose.  Until then, I offer you the following, cheap insight…

The Dating Persona Test:

The Wild Rose-Random Brutal Love Dreamer (RBLD)

Colorful, but unpicked. You are The Wild Rose. Prone to bouts of cynicism, sarcasm, and thorns, you excite a certain kind of man. Hoping to gather you up, he flirts and winks and asks you out, ultimately professing his love. Then you make him bleed. Why? Because you’re the rare, independent, self-sufficient kind of woman who does want love, but not from a weakling.

You don’t seem to take yourself too seriously, and that’s refreshing. You aren’t uptight; you don’t over-plan. Romance-wise, sex isn’t a top priority—a true relationship would be preferable. For your age, you haven’t had a lot of bonafide love experience, though, and this kind of gets to core of the issue. You’re very selective.

The problem is them, not you, right? You have lofty standards that few measure up to. You’re out there all right, but not to be picked up by just anyone.

Yeesh, that’s scarily accurate.  Here are some more test/result combinations!

The Politics Test: Democrat (socially and fiscally liberal)

The What Kind of Girl are You Test: The Liberal Beauty (Sarandon-esque…aww, thanks)

The Which Lolcat Are You Test: Longcat (This is relevant to my interests)

The What is your REAL age Test: You are 39 years old!!  (What the fucking fuck?)

The What type of MAN turns you on Test: Mysterious boy (these are getting dumb)

The Quick & Painless ENNEAGRAM Test: 4- the Individualist (surprise!)

What Kind of Feminist Are You Test: Social Concerns Feminist (finally, the truth can be told)

The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test: Modern, Cool Nerd (you got that right, Internet)

And that’s it!  I promise I’ll prolly never do this again.

So, I’m sort of Internet dating again.  I wrote about this before but never finished the story.  Honestly, there wasn’t a lot to tell and sharing that little bit didn’t ever seem like a high priority.  Still, I guess I owe you guys something…

I put an ad on plentyofish.com and a more LGB-oriented site the first time.  I chose plentyoffish because it was free and because Sarah had mentioned it and seemed to have had some luck with it.  My luck wasn’t as good.

I got a few responses right away.  I wish I could reproduce these, but it looks like the stupid site deletes messages after a while.  The first one was from a barely-literate, thick-necked goobery dullard from the boonies.    If you’ll permit the dramatic reproduction…

hey sweete,

ur pretty.  you should call me. we can have nice dinner and ill give you some sweet lovin.

call me,

dateraper469

Wow…so…flattered.  Here’s the imaginary response I sent him via the Psychic Friends Network…

Mr. dateraper469,

Until the end of our days together, you sir, may regard me as your beloved, your Miss Hathaway.  Your simple note was as sweetly rendered and as charming as any of our great Bard’s sonnets.  Your words pierce the very beating heart in my bosom and I offer you my unyielding love and devotion.  I pray that you may return my ardor and I breathlessly await your reply.

Ever yours,

Mlle. Anna Hell

p.s. lol, jk, you’re a moron, don’t ever write me again.

The next message was from an utterly ordinary Westminsterian who looked just like a cop (he had that icky little cop moustache).  His email went something like

Hi Anna,

I had to look twice at your profile because it’s really hard to belive that you’re a guy.  But you seem like a nice person and I might be into trying that.

ttyl,

Officer Moustache

I answer most people, so I sent him a curt reply and mentioned that I wasn’t a guy and hadn’t ever been and that he was off to a really bad start.  He sent me an apologetic reply and asked me to forgive his ignorance.  I took me about a week to reply to him.  He wasn’t ugly and seemed stable and considerate, BUT, his profile was entirely devoid of personality, he looked police-y, and I doubt we had much more than a primate ancestry in common.  So I sent him back, what I thought was, a balanced, but direct reply…

Officer Moustache,

Look, you seem like a nice guy and all, but I’m borderline crazy and need a messy-haired, sexually adventurous musician/artist type who’ll worship me as a goddess from now until the day of our inevitable, explosive breakup.  I also want to snort coke off of a razor-sharp, six-inch long bowie knife and get filthy with the person I’m sleeping with on top of the Eiffel Tower some time before I die.  Something tells me you’re more of a homebody.  Good luck with “finding the one” and don’t bother to write me back.

Sincerely,

Anna Fucking Hell

And finally, kittens, I received a sweet, well-written series of notes from a rather attractive African gentleman.  The letters weren’t funny or weird at all, so I won’t try to reproduce them.  Basically, he told me how beautiful I was and shared with me his love of fine art, travel, and gourmet cuisine.   It still seemed like we didn’t have loads/anything in common but I need to get me some date experience, somehow.  So, when he asked me if I wanted to meet him for coffee, I happily accepted.  My too-good-to-be-true alarm started going off the next day.  I’ve been around the block before and I’m well-aware of how much most men hate reading dating site profiles.  I had to check…

Hi Africa,

I’m excited to finally meet you (and for you to buy me coffee, lol).  I just wanted to double check something before we meet up.  I know I’m just being silly and it’s a small matter, really, but do you remember how the first sentence of my profile said that I’m a pre-op transsexual woman in bold, giant, flaming italics?  You know what that means, right?  And you’re cool with that, right?

Just checking…

Anna

Africa never wrote me back.

……

But don’t cry for me, Argentina.  I’d much rather weed out the riff raff and get all of the unpleasantness out of the way before meeting for the first time.  Still, I’m deleting my profile from plentyoffish.com.  It’s a visually unappealing site that seems to be populated with nothing but meatheads.  I’m leaving the LGB site too…not a single person ever contacted me.

As I mentioned, I’m back at it again at a new site.  Things seem to be dramatically better this time.  I’ve already traded emails with a few interesting guys and one super cool woman and they all seem to be aware of and ok with my medical history.

Fingers crossed, y’all.

Per our earlier conversation about boots and the fashions and what Anna Wintour is doing right now, I just wanted to let you know that I bought these…

Ladies, my new best friend, the Frye Shirley riding boot in Red Brown.

Pretty great, hunh?  I haven’t worn them or anything yet because, even though these are known the world over as “boots for girls with big calves”, they’re too motherfucking small for my “athletic” calves and I had to take them to the cobbler to get stretched.  But, we’ll be together again on Friday.

OMG, you guys…I can’t turn off my mind faucet.  I was thinking about the angry, mini-manifesto-in-progress I put up here yesterday.  Again, I’m sure this is a real audience-grabber, but I need to work this out.

So, I might have changed my mind about some of the things I said yesterday.  Shut up, I’m a woman, we can do that. I like reading personal blogs because I like to experience what’s it’s like to be inside another person, so to speak.  In other words, I like people’s stories and the way they narrate the story of their lives through blogs.  The ones I really like have a good mix of happy things, sad things, characters, some plot development, a little conflict, romance, whathaveyou, and they’re able to weave it into an ongoing narrative.  For me, the joy of a good blog is that the heroine/hero is discovering the plot and characters almost accidentally.  It’s like life but with all the less interesting (hopefully) parts removed.

What in the name of Odin’s wooly beard does this have to do with my blog?  Well…I guess I’m trying to say, I don’t know how to package an everything kind of blog that is both compelling and rich.  So, maybe I should stick to one thing or break this up into two blogs.  What do you all think?  Should I just tell the Trans-girl in the City story here and move all of the failed scripts and pictures of art I found on the web to another site?  I could still put up pictures of art, but it would have to be something I experienced in person or made myself.  Ditto for music…it would have to have some personal relevance.

Ugh, I’m so confused.  What say you, big brains?

I feel bad for making you wade through a hopelessly dry discussion of blog theory, so here’s some art…

Barnaby Furnas-Flood (Untitled) *this is at the Denver MCA right now!

Lotsa stuff by Damon Soule

Tagged: barnaby furnas, blog love, brand buildin', damon soule, denver mca, i heart personal narratives, manifesto, mind faucet, odin's wooly beard, trans-girl in the city ]]> http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/10/02/my-manifesto-workshop/feed/ 5 annahell Art Opening: Barnaby Furnas http://www.damonsoule.com/pb/wp_b21077d9/images/img285224a10834ff3d50.jpg http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/10/01/this-one-time-i-started-writing-a-screenplay/ http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/10/01/this-one-time-i-started-writing-a-screenplay/#comments Fri, 02 Oct 2009 00:52:37 +0000 annahell http://annahell.wordpress.com/?p=1111 ]]>

Mood:	All stuffed up with nowhere to go
Music:	Hüsker Dü-Standing in the Rain

Goddamn you, weird, Internet formatting! Ugh, I am positively plagued by strange formatting issues when I try to post things on the Internet and I am sick of it.  Like, if you read my posts with a reader or on Facebook, I’m sure the last post looked like an experiment in unreadable text art.  I tried to make it look like an actual script (they have very specific formatting guidelines, you know) but it came out looking like mental illness.  I’m sorry if it looks wonky, but I don’t feel like spending hours trying to fix it…or trying to do it right the first time.

If you’ll permit me a quick, manifesto-y aside…I also realize that I’m not doing myself any favors in the “building a brand” department.  Look, I know I’m chasing readers away with a pitchfork every time I put up some weird mix of music or comedy or diary posts.  It would be nice if I had an audience that followed my blog and paid me oodles of compliments and dollars (American), but I’ve never been one for wedging myself into some niche…I’m too big, uppity.

Then again, maybe I should, once and for all, devote myself to a single topic, like…

-what it’s like to be transsexual in the big, bad world, or

-my personal quest to transform simple words into comedy magic, or

-sharing my moment to moment feelings and inner monologue (lol, dialogue’s more like it).

I’ve actually given all of this quite a bit of thought.  Should I narrow my scope, give up, and try to build a long-tail audience?

No, I don’t think so.

I love accolades and money as much as the next, greedy, attention-starved girl, but I think I’m going to keep doing it like this for now.  I’ve never written for you (the collective you, you’re great) and I don’t intend to start.  I write for myself and the people I love.  Hopefully, one day, the rest of the world will figure out how awesome and interesting I am.  But, if they never do and you’re still reading, then it’s worth it.

So anyway, I was looking for how to format scripts this morning and I ran across this little nugget.  Like the rest of the Internet, I’m a tortured, wannabe artist/critic.  I even tried writing a screenplay once.  I got through the first scene and then quit, as you do.  I’d still kind of like to write a screenplay, or, you know, finish something, anything, but I doubt I’d finish this one.  Somehow, a story about two friends working their way through college as armed, downtown bus station security guards doesn’t seem as relevant to me now as it once did.  For what it’s worth…


My Never-To-Be-Finished, Untitled Movie

INT. DOWNTOWN DENVER BUS STATION SECURITY CHECKPOINT, 2 AM.

Doug and Charles are checking bags.

CHARLES

Next!

MEXICAN MAN shuffles forward.

CHARLES

Good morning, sir and welcome to Denver.  Do you have any knives, handguns, explosives, syringes, scissors,  bazookas, or live animals?

MEXICAN MAN

Que?

DOUG

Uh, I don’t think he speaks English.  Have fun.

CHARLES

No hable Ingles?

(MEXICAN MAN stares at him blankly)

Tiene usted alguna cuchillos, armas de fuego, explosivos, jeringas, tijeras, bazucas, ni con animales vivos?

MEXICAN MAN

Nope, just this bag of beef jerky.

CHARLES

Gracias Senòr, please move along.  Next in line please.

NERVOUS MAN

(Clutching a worn, dirty paper bag, stuttering)

E-evening, Officer

CHARLES

Good morning, sir.  Do you have any knives, handguns, explosives, syringes, scissors, bazookas, or live animals?

NERVOUS MAN

Ha!  Live animals…that’s funny.  Nope, no live animals.

CHARLES

I’m glad you enjoyed it, sir.  Would you happen to be carrying any of the other items I just mentioned?

NERVOUS MAN

Wha-what do you mean?

CHARLES

I mean, do you have anything on your person or in your bag that might be considered dangerous or illegal?

NERVOUS MAN

Dangerous or illegal?  Ummm…no.

(nervously looks around)

No?

(a little too loud)

No!  I don’t.

CHARLES

Would you mind opening your bag, sir?

NERVOUS MAN

You want to look in my bag?  This bag?

CHARLES

Yes sir, (under his breath) very badly.

NERVOUS MAN

Al…al…ok

(NERVOUS MAN sets the bag down and pushes it towards CHARLES)

CHARLES

(Charles opens the paper bag and pulls out a large black dildo and furry, pink handcuffs.  He holds them out so everyone in line can see them)

Do these belong to you sir?

NERVOUS MAN

(Sheepishly)

Those are…wow…um…

CHARLES

Sir?

NERVOUS MAN

Alright, fine!

(muttering)

Yes, of course they’re mine!

(turns to the group)

That’s right, everyone, you got me!  I’m the one.  I’m the big, freaky, weirdo with the big, black dildo and the furry, pink handcuffs and the value sized jar of industrial lube and the handmade photo retrospective of Jennifer Love Hewitt.   Lock up your children!

(An older woman is seen tightly embracing her granddaughter and shielding her eyes)

(turns back to CHARLES)

What?  Are these against the law now too…Mr. Thought Police?

CHARLES

Depends.  Where ya headed?

NERVOUS MAN

Uh…Los Angeles…it’s in California.

CHARLES

LA, hunh?

(Charles hesitates to build NERVOUS MAN’s suspense, hypnotically slapping the dildo against his left hand)

Nope, you should be fine.

(Charles drops the items back in the bag and pushes it towards the man)

NEXT!

FADE OUT

FADE IN, OPENING CREDIT SEQUENCE

During the credits, Charles walks into the bus station bathroom to pee.  He is at the extreme right urinal.  Pan left to see a very old man all the way at the other end of the row of urinals…like 8 or 10…just finishing up.  The old man zips up and starts walking, drunkenly toward Charles and the exit.  The problem is, he walks so slowly and close to the urinals, that he trips the IR sensor on every one of them.  He only alters his course when he gets uncomfortably close to Charles…who is having trouble starting and hangs his head in shame and disgust.

Hi Internets!  I don’t know about where you live, but it is the freezing here in Colorado…literally…like it might snow tonight, freezing.  And I couldn’t be happier.  I’ve mentioned before that I love autumn.  I like winter too (unless it has outstayed its welcome) and something tells me we’re due for a nice, long, junior Ice Age freezup here in the northern Americas.

It's "Autumn Leaves" by John Everett Millais! I know, it's a bit on the nose, but what is the story with the girls and the leaves? I'm pretty sure they've hidden a freshly butchered corpse in there.

To celebrate the dawn of the northern death cycle, I’ve been listening to loads of grim, frigid metal (mostly Opeth, Katatonia, Lifelover, and Liturgy), and reading dour poetry.  To wit:

1.
The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing,
The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying,
And the Year
On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead,
Is lying.
Come, Months, come away,
From November to May,
In your saddest array;
Follow the bier
Of the dead cold Year,
And like dim shadows watch by her sepulchre.

2.
The chill rain is falling, the nipped worm is crawling,
The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knelling
For the Year;
The blithe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone
To his dwelling;
Come, Months, come away;
Put on white, black, and gray;
Let your light sisters play–
Ye, follow the bier
Of the dead cold Year,
And make her grave green with tear on tear.

Autumn: A Dirge by Percy Bysshe Shelley

———————————————————————

MY Sorrow, when she’s here with me,
Thinks these dark days of autumn rain
Are beautiful as days can be;
She loves the bare, the withered tree;
She walks the sodden pasture lane.
Her pleasure will not let me stay.
She talks and I am fain to list:
She’s glad the birds are gone away,
She’s glad her simple worsted gray
Is silver now with clinging mist.
The desolate, deserted trees,
The faded earth, the heavy sky,
The beauties she so truly sees,
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.
Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell her so,
And they are better for her praise.

My November Guest by Robert Frost

Other than loving the cold weather and building a proper wicker man with the kitty, things have been quiet and nice.  Last week’s trip to Washington D.C. was lovely, amazing, fun, and draining.  I have a whole lot to say about that trip, but haven’t found the time or motivation to properly bloggy up the stories.   That’s been a theme of late–I’m long on ideas and short on time and motivation.

Oh, and my annual review is tomorrow and I’m kind of excited about it.  It’s hard to believe that I came out to my boss six months ago at my mid-year review.  Hopefully, this one will be more drama free.

So anyway, this is me, checking in, reminding you to love fall, read poetry, and listen to more black metal.

Do you have any dour, autumnal poetry or lyrics you’d like to share?  How do you get ready for the best season of the year?  Which Halloween costume did you decide on?  Why haven’t you picked out a costume yet?!

Hey guys, remember that caption contest I told you about?

Well, I won!

I actually won with my first try(see below).  I didn’t like that one as much because it kind of seemed like an easy joke.  I liked the second one better, but it really pushed the boundaries of pithy caption-ness.  The good news is I totally have them figured out…genital and poopy jokes ad infinitum.  I won a t-shirt and the satisfaction of knowing that I’m an “award winning” writer.  If there’s a quirky blog category for the Pulitzer Prize…well, look out quirky bloggers!

Here’s part of the “funny”, congratulatory note…

Unfortunately after saying that I just realized that it’s impossible for me to lower my mental facilities to that of a brain dead chimpanzee to determine which caption sucked a fraction of a grundle hair less than the rest. Thankfully I have a four year old at my disposal. So congratulations Annahell, a preschooler thinks that for about two seconds you’re caption (below) was slightly more amusing than using his finger to probe the depths of his many orifices.

NOBODY KNOWS I'M FARTING! by annahell

This is the first in a series of caption contests they’re sponsoring.  If I’m not banned, I’m going to submit for the rest of them too.  I’m hoping I can trade the rest of the t-shirts I win for some art prints or a pony.

That’s right, I just copied off of myself like I’m Ouroboros snacking on my own tail.  Pretty soon, this blog will cease to be an exercise in pretty word picture painting and will devolve into me, sitting alone, thinking up blog posts that please only me, only reference previous posts of mine, and never get posted.  That’s eerily close to the reality.

What follows is the familiar what-kind-of-wacky-search-terms-are-people-typing-into-search-engines-to-get-to-my-blog trope.  I know, it’s kind of clip show lazy, but maybe we’ll learn something about each other…or…science or something?  Oh, and the search terms are listed below in bold and are followed by my “hilarious and amusing” comments in italics.

blue and brown cake decorated-mmm, no

ben turner ace of cakes wife-I’m not Mr. Turner’s wife (he might be the gay), but thanks for thinking of me

family photo’s of sweeten mum and dad-lol, what?

ben turner gay-told you

is geoff manthorne gay-I do not posses the answers you seek

punk as fuck patch-I like your style, Internet seeker of patches

tiny animals ’sweet sweetness’ blogspot-best.blog title.ever

“my breasts are out of control”-you and me both

exorcism-sorry buddy, you got the wrong girl

movies denver-I’m Moviefone now?

ben affleck jerk off video-the censors made me take it down

sweet heavy metal blogs-this isn’t, but thank-you

sexy gay blog-how dare you

nerd mustaches-sorry y’all, that one is my fault

shut up i don’t care what you say-it’s like I’m looking into a mirror

i hate random vlogs-me too!

Ok, this isn’t very funny, but “tuxedo mask” and other terms involving Sailor Moon’s tuxedo-wearing, man candy are by far the most popular search terms that lead people to mah blog. I put ONE picture of Tuxedo Mask in a post and this is what I get.  Those Sailor Moon kids sure are dedicated.

So, what funny search terms are leading people to your blog/homepage/online Sailor Moon hentai and cosplay boutique?

I just posted this to a local arts website’s photo caption contest thing deal…

She: So, you want to bet me five dollars that you can simultaneously donkey-kick jump into the air and lick your shoulder?

Him: Yup.

She: Ugh…really? Is this how I’m spending my Friday nights? How is that even a thing? Why am I friends with you?

Him: K, tell you what…if I lose…you get the five dollars, AND I’ll pose for that photo shoot.

She: You mean “Kitten Me Softly?” The one with the bathtub full of ice cream and the kittens?

Him: Uh-huh

She: Then consider us wagered, future loser.

Hunh?  So is that comedy gold spread on whole wheat toast, or what?  Yeah, I’m not so sure either, but at least I’m “putting it out there” and “getting involved”, you know?  If it helps, the picture was of some guy at a local gallery opening jumping into the air, donkey-kick style, and sticking out his tongue in a way that it looked like he was trying to lick his own shoulder.  I know, Art kids are weird.

OH!!! And Kitten Me Softly is copyrighted and mine forever, so back off!  However, I am willing to collab with some other creative types on an installation, play, musical, painting, performance art piece, or exhibition with that title.  Or, maybe I’ll do another n-part blog essay à la mode de Secret Cheese?

As usual, I’m in the middle of three different blog posts but I can’t be bothered to finish any of them at the mo.  Just so you know, I’m still great and things are pretty awesome.  I’ll try to post some more in the next day or two.

Yours sincerely and etc., your biggest fan,

Anna

Apparently, I'm the most popular, obvious, college-themed poster in America.

So, I started back to graduate school on Monday.  The first class was pretty interesting, but getting there was hilarious.

I work within walking distance of my school and regularly walk to campus and back during lunch.  There’s a wonderful pub transpo sys (isn’t unnecessary abbreviation the best?) in town but, for some reason, I decided to hoof it.  I started the workday in a low-ish wedge, but switched to, what I thought, would be a much more comfortable pair of flats.  For those of you that don’t know, women’s shoes, in general, can posses three desirable traits: affordability, beauty, and comfort.  However, according to Stanton’s Law of Shoes, there will never be an intersection of all three traits in a single pair of women’s shoes.  For the record, the flats I ended up wearing to class were pretty and inexpensive.  More on that later…

The walk to class wasn’t painful.  Even though I thought I was going to be really late, I made it to the building just as the 5:30 bell rang.  I say building, but it’s actually called an Engineering Center because it’s so gi-mongous and as complex as a city center.  The Center is basically one giant building, but it has all of these charming (unless you’re late for class) secret passageways, blind corridors, moats, and drawbridges.  Yes, I’m in the post-grad program at Hogwarts.

All of the engineering disciplines have space in the building.  The various engineering departments thought it would be a good idea to help students by adding that department’s abbreviation to the beginning of each room number.  So, CHME 14 would, theoretically, be a room on the first floor of the Chemical Engineering department.  My class’s room was something like, CS1B56, so somewhere in the first basement level (yes, that means more than one basement level)  of the Computer Science section was room 56.  It’s kind of like a big hospital with all the signs on the wall telling you that Radiology is down the hall from Oncology and the gift shop.

The “funny” part is that there weren’t any maps in the entire building and only some areas of the building were accessible by others.  I’d take a staircase down to Basement Level 1 only to discover that that section only contained rooms ECE1B1, ECE1B7, ME1B65, and CS1B42.  To get to one of the other 968,000 rooms, I’d have to take a different staircase, or find an exit to the secret courtyard and press the hidden switch in the gargoyle’s right eye to open the hidden passage behind the mural of Gustav Kirchhoff.  Only then would the Red Swordsman allow me to pass after correctly answering three riddles.

I tried asking one girl for directions, but she was as new and lost as me.  Later, another new student asked me for directions and the best response I could muster was, “It’s over there, I think…outside…in the other part of the building? Please don’t ask me any more questions!” And then I ran away.

I managed to find my class after another 30 minutes of blind searching.  Let me reiterate that.  Had I not accidentally, through sheer luck and random chance, stumbled upon my class, I might still be searching for it today.  And, I don’t know if you guys have ever toured the science-y bowels of a giant research university, but they can be kind of scary.  I work in a place like that and I always walk through the halls on the lookout for scientific catastrophes.  Like, I’m going to pass by one of the labs in time to spy  an out-of-control Half-Life-esque, time-space rift emergency.  Or, I’ll be evacuated because the human hybrid genetics experiment in Sector Orange decided, violently, that it didn’t like living in a cage anymore and has, inexplicably, developed a taste for human flesh.  Or, maybe I’ll fall prey to something  more pedestrian, like a  plutonium spill or steam pipe failure  The point is, these buildings kind of scare me and I’d rather not dawdle in their secret, science-y bowels any longer than I have to.

So, I get to class, but had to detour to the bathroom to towel off the lady glow and try to look presentable after my hour-long campus expedition.  I went back to class to wait for the first break (the class is 2.5 hours long).  In most classes, I’d just sneak in and find a seat at the back.  I could only see the instructor in the doorway, so I had no idea how many people were inside or if there were even available seats.  So, I waited until people started coming out for potty break.  I made my way inside and passed a few smiling students.  Post-transition, whenever people are really nice or smile at me, I always have to remember, oh yeah, people are nice to women and you are a woman…smile back stupid. The instructor was at the front talking to another student, so I waited for him to finish.  When he did, he came over and I introduced myself as the new, late girl.  He found me one of the few remaining seats and I sat down.

The rest of the class was thankfully, uneventful.  It’s going to be an interesting and fun class, but it’ll be a lot of working in teams and presenting in class, eep!  I kind of planned it that way, though.  I’m trying to branch out and be more social and this class will be a great opportunity.   So, I think it’s going to be alright.  Ugh, but he’s one of those that assigns homework before the first class.  So now I have to turn in that and this week’s homework before next Monday.

Oh!  I almost forgot the “funny”, walking home part.  Even though my feet were already hurting, I decided to walk back to my car at work.  This decision, the decision to walk to class, and the decision to wear those horrible shoes turned out to be the day’s giant mistakes.  Honorable, bad decision  mention goes to the fact that I was walking alone, on a American college campus, near dusk…not smart.  I need to find someone to walk with or find a way to take the bus back to work.   Anyway, if I hadn’t been so afraid of being assaulted or consumed by C.H.U.D.s, I probably would have just spent the night in a tree or an abandoned classroom.  Somehow, I endured the pain and limped back to my car.  I surveyed the pedi-damage at home–two heel blisters, one pinkie toe blister, two cuts where the edge of the shoe sawed away at the underside my ankle, and the balls of both feet are still sore.  So, next time, I’m either wearing tennis shoes or hiring a porter.

And that’s it! I’m sure this class will become a wellspring of amusing, bloggy anecdotes and you have my word I’ll share them all with you.  Until then, good day!

Why can’t every blog post be about cheese?  Srsly…cheese…so great. So, hello again, Internets!  I’ve been crazy busy lately but I’ve been having the urges to keep you, my virtual friends, appraised of the happenings in mah life.

Let’s start with electrolysis.  If you’re scoring at home, I’ve now spent just over $4000 and 70 hours on facial hair-removal.  Like I said in the title, the woman that tortures me for money and I just celebrated our one-year electrolyversaryaganza.   We spent the day in the way we spend all of our days together–she stuck a needle into my face, turned on the heat, and pulled out hairs while I made awkward conversation, tried not to cry, and paid her for the privilege at the end.  Srsly tho, we are making progress.  My small talk is getting less and less awkward…jk.   Within the next month or so, I should be able to cut down on the length of my sessions.  My face seems a lot more clear than it had this summer and it seems like she’s able to get a lot done all over my face and neck.  So, that’s good.  I can’t imagine how much longer this will go on (forever still seems entirely reasonable), but it’s beginning to feel like less of a lifestyle and more like an occasional hobby…you know, like taxidermy…or designing evening gowns for kittehs.  Then again, I think I’ve repeated that sentiment so many times that it’s beginning to sound fresh and new again.  But I’m funny like that, hope and grim realism springs eternal.

Recently, my virtual friend, Jamie started electrolysis and I had a couple of thousand words of unsolicited advice for her.  I won’t bore you with most of it, but it can be boiled down to electrolysis sucks and since you’re going to be doing it for the next, too-long period of time, hang in there and try not to worry about how long it takes or what did or didn’t get done that week.  Also, try not to touch your face too much afterward…and drink plenty of fluids…and eat at least one apple per day…and treat yourself to ice cream every once in a while…and kittens are nice.

When I was writing the advice, I had to really think back to the beginning and how awful it was.  I’ve had some painful, voluntary “medical” experiences, but electrolysis ranks among the worst.  Until she completely cleared it the first time, I would shed the pain tears every time she touched my upper lip.  Now, it hardly hurts at all and the lip heals faster than the rest of my face.  I guess it’s easy to lose perspective when you’re fighting something every week, but hard work does pay off, kittens.  And at the end, I’m totally getting an electrolysis merit badge for all of this hard work.  OMG you guys, we should totally start the Trans-Scouts and have sashes with little badges for every milestone we complete…also, berets.

Mmm, what else?  I started back to graduate school, click here for some hot, grad school action.

Work has been nutso-majutso and busy and frustrating.  Not in a bad, permanent way, it’s just that sometimes I hate development and computers…which is super unfortunate since that’s 75% of what we do here on the farm.  When I’m really having problems with, say, compiling a program, I get to feel like my forehead reverts back to Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer sticky-outy-ness and I start to drool and make a low durrrrrrrrr sound under my breath.  Acio illustrative picture!

Sometimes when I get a message on my fax machine, I wonder: "Did little demons get inside and type it?" I don't know! My primitive mind can't grasp these concepts. But there is one thing I do know - when a man like my client slips and falls on a sidewalk in front of a public library, then he is entitled to no less than two million in compensatory damages, and two million in punitive damages.

And I curse a lot, out loud.  So, that’s been fun and it won’t be improving until I finish this project.

Other than failing at that project, work is going well and people seem to be happy with what I’m doing.  And in September, I get to go to Washington D.C. for work!!!!!  It will only be for three days, and I have to, you know, work and stuff, but I’ve never been and I’m just about to pass out from the excitement.  Full-color Lincoln Memorial souvenir photos and tiny American flags for everyone! I keep having these fantasies about how me and my co-worker are going to stay in sexy hotels and be wined and dined by Washington’s Beltway elite.  Perhaps we’ll become embroiled in some international intrigue or be taken on fabulous, exclusive tours of all the best Washington landmarks?  Maybe we’ll be invited over to the White House for some late-night drinking and CoD:4 deathmatching with the President, Shelly O., and Al Gore?  Even if none of that comes true, I’m sure I’ll still have a good time.  And our hotel is dead sexy!

Two college classmates work at the USPTO in D.C., so I’m going to try and see one of them while I’m in town.  I sent him an email (the coming-out kind) a couple of weeks ago when I found out I was going.  After a few missed calls, we spoke on the phone.  The first thing he said was, “So, are you using some kind of electronic voice box?”  I laughed because it was kind of flattering and because he’s always been the type to ask the questions that no one else would think to ask, e.g. Hey guys, I think it’s time my girlfriend and I had anal sex.  How can I talk her into it? It was sweet and charming, in an invasive, off-putting way.  Still though, it’ll be nice to catch up with him and did I mention I’m super excited about getting to go to D.C.?

Finally, kittens, things may be improving on the Mom-acceptance front.  A couple of weeks ago, she sent me an email asking about how one would go about watching my YouTube videos.  They weren’t loading for her or something, so she wanted some help.  She also said that she really missed my sister and I and that she was trying to get used to “the new me.”  I kind of bristled at that.  I’ve talked before about whether the “but I’m still the same person” defense is valid or not.  After some consideration, I decided that I am pretty different.  I mean, I don’t think my core sensibility has changed, but I don’t think someone would figure that out if they hadn’t spent a lot of time with “the new me.”  Anyway, it makes me happy that I might be able to have a positive relationship with her again some day.  In her email, it kind of sounded like she wanted to come out and  see us.  I would love it if that happened.

Enough already!  I had better post this before someone else sends me a thoughtfully concerned email.

Eric Cartman (not real) standing in front of the legendary Casa Bonita (totally real)

Not that you care, but I just remembered this thread on Boing Boing I contributed to almost a year ago.   It started off as a spot where past and current residents of Denver (and the Front Range) could post about whatever they loved, hated, or barely remembered from their time spent in our fair city.  It’s kind of taken on a life of its own since then and is still going strong (it was posted to as late as yesterday).  If you look closely, there are quite  a few posts from Bonnie Burton and Kip Winger.   For what it’s worth, here’s what I contributed…

Wow, great thread everyone and a really fun topic. I moved here in the summer of ‘82 (right before the blizzard) and have lived all over the area (Arvada, Lakewood, Evergreen, and Denver) ever since. Here are some of my memories…

-Yes, KBDI, Channel 12 used to be a lot better, more edgy. Besides Teletunes, does anyone remember the Home Movies show and how they used to broadcast live from the Boulder Mall Crawl? I think it’s a pale imitation of KRMA now.

-Celebrity Fun Center, good times. Why can’t we have a place like that now? I liked the pool and water slides the best, but they had a great arcade. For some reason, I can still recall the arcade’s smell.

-How about the Denver Gold, the USFL team? My folks took me to see Alabama (for some reason) and one of their games one time.

-The UZI store? Wow. I lived with Mari’s brother for about a year. He always had a lot of Foreskin 500 albums around.

-So many great record stores…JB&H was great, I think I’ve been to every Twist & Shout iteration, the first time I went to Chicago as a kid I was like, “Oh, there’s a Wax Trax here too?”

-Casa Bonita, god, the food is so awful but I’m always down to go there a few times a year. We went all the time as kids. I even had my 33rd birthday party there.

-After the Gold Rush-um, OMG, I think that was one of my (then, recently divorced) Mom’s favorite haunts. My Mom really liked KIMN and I really liked the chicken.

-The Gothic, I’m glad it’s still around, but its vibe has changed considerably. I remember seeing Ministry there in 1990 and Nirvana open for Dinosaur Jr.

-The Wet Spot-sooo many post-drunk breakfasts, so many stories. It was sad to see it close down because of the memories and the fact that it was one of the last (maybe the last) example of a California-style diner in Denver. All of the Pete’s restaurants are still really good. Muddy’s and Paris on the Platte (and Poudre) are/were cool. Benny’s is still just about my favorite place for Mexican.

-I was almost too young, but I need to give a shout out to Cinderella City, Nathan’s, and The Organ Grinder. I have vague, but very pleasant memories from each.

Jake Jabbs and Dealin’ Doug are sweet, kitschy parts of our culture but, to be honest, I could go the rest of my life without seeing another one of their commercials. Why does Doug Moreland have to yell all the time?

-Finally, I was away when this happened, but can someone tell me why the Big Three networks stations played musical chairs at some point? I remember how channel 4 used to be the NBC affiliate.

And now you know a lot of my childhood trivia…use it wisely.

Shhhh, don't be sad.

Thus endeth Blog, Sweet Blog’s longest, most unfunny, in-joke.

FIN

Come and sit, hear my words, tiny baby. The elder prophecy tells of a warrior prince who will one day reveal the secrets of cheese and restore order to this broken house. It is the sacred duty of every tribesman to search for the hero of legend and, should the hero deem you worthy, accompany him on his holy quest. Be vigilant, child! The warrior may walk among us, even now. Ha! Even you tiny one, even you could be the incarnation of the chosen one.

URNGHNG! Foolish, musclebound, mortal oaf! The prophecy foretells of a son, native born, that will wrest the Helm of Longing from the horrors of the Locryan Abyss and restore it to its rightful place in the Hall of Rejoicing. Look upon me, ye mortal, and tremble. I...AM...RETURN! Come mortal, we must prepare for the long journey ahead, and adventure!

Tagged: adventure, cheese, cheese cheese, cheese cheese cheese, hall of rejoicing, hello cheese, helm of longing, one cheese to rule them all, secret cheese, the legendary cheese of prophecy, we are all cheese ]]> http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/08/17/death-to-our-friends/feed/ 0 annahell mad kid http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/08/17/shadow-of-a-doubt/ http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/08/17/shadow-of-a-doubt/#comments Mon, 17 Aug 2009 23:34:26 +0000 annahell http://annahell.wordpress.com/?p=965 ]]>

Mood:	hella hella
Music:	What Not To Wear

Ooooooooooooh,

you’re never alone with a wheel of cheese,

your milky friend will let you do as you please,

police car chases and killer bees,

income tax audits and attorn-eeeeeeeys,

aren’t any match for my friend cheese!

Ugh, I’m in the middle of like, three other blogs, but they’re taking forever.  So I thought I’d start another one (lol) just to put some sort of update out.

So, I went to a half-day, “team building” retreat for work today.  The training focused on the DISC (Dominance, Influence, Steadiness, Conscientiousness) behavioral model.  I took a short assessment online before the meeting and was presented with this result…

Me, DISCafied

I’ve never been a person that puts a lot of stock into this or other personality assessments like the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator.  They haven’t been experimentally verified, they’re subjective, and the results are subject to change over time.  Having said that, I thought my results were pretty interesting.  Even though the test used a relatively small batch of questions, I did all of the answering.  So, the test at least holds as a snapshot of how I felt and saw myself at that moment.

The report offered some analysis of my “Inspirational” behavioral style.  Apparently, since I’m high in Dominance and Influence, I’m an action-oriented kind of gal who’s always looking for new opportunities to generate enthusiasm in others.  Good. I’m also looking to win awards and get promotions. Ok. I dig freedom of expression and have a quick-fire, “gut-feeling”, decision-making style. Awesome!

Unfortunately, there’s a dark side to all of this wonderfully thrilling leadership potential.  Some of the adjectives in my  low-scoring (S and C) areas are pretty bad…

discontented ugh, bor-ring!

fidgety or energetic?  you be the judge...I knitted this for you!

fault-finding that’s stupid and wrong

obstinate f-you DISC assessment!

tactless you’re tactless!

Well, you’ve got to take the good with the bad, I guess.  You know what though?  If I get associated with being a maniacal, world-enslaving, madwoman one more time, I’m going to take over the world and then blow it up.  I mean seriously, you guys.  I’m already a Scorpio (and you know how they are) and now this?  I just want to make friends with all of you, have meaningful, passionate sex with some of you, make people buy me things, and adopt another kitten…and maybe a little bunny.  Who’s the cruel, though tragically misunderstood despot now?

So, I took my message of inspiration, hope, and kittens to the team-building class.  I wasn’t required to attend and very few people from my division were there, but I still got a lot out of the training.  We did the usual build-a-blind-lego-model and rescue-the-toilet-paper-roll-bomb-from-the-circle-of-string-using-rope-and-masking-tape-while-shouting-blindfolded exercises.  We made a lot of jokes about doing a falling backwards trust exercise, but that never happened.  Actually, there weren’t any The Office type cringe-worthy moments, which was nice.  I kind of love all the people I work with.

I was a little bit nervous before the meeting.  I hadn’t spoken to a lot of these coworkers since coming out at work nearly four months ago, but everyone was really nice.  No one made any name or pronoun mistakes.  The only bad thing is that I wish more people that I actually work with would have gone.  I think they could have gotten a lot out of it.  But, it seems like the people that need to go hardly ever volunteer.  Oh yeah, and the instructor used the Saturday Night Live character Pat as an example of an employee that no one wanted to work with.  His angle wasn’t that Pat was trans and weird, but that Pat made people uncomfortable for reasons we had to come up with (Pat has BO, Pat has all kinds of odd opinions, etc.) I quickly let it slide, but I wondered if the answers would have been different had I not been there.

After the meeting, most of the class went out for lunch at a local Mexican restaurant.  I had brought my lunch but decided to go along with everyone.  Since coming out, I’ve been trying to place myself in more situations where I interact with people.  It’s my way of improving my confidence and forcing myself to be more social.  I used to be so closed off and fearful of letting people get to know me.  I definitely don’t feel that way now and this is like my insurance policy against walling myself off again.  So, I went to lunch and had a great time hanging out…I highly recommend it.

Goodnight!

Oh, wait…your assignment.  Have any of you taken this test?  If so, what was your result?  If not, what is your MBTI and how does it correlate with DISC?  If you haven’t done any of those, which part of DISC would you say you identify with most?

Yes, I have the sads, but I’m not dead.  I saw these online a couple of days ago and one of them (or something close) will be mine in the next month or so…

Frye Campus 14L in Blazer Brown

Frye Dorado Riding in Dark Brown

Frye Veronica Slouch in Cranberry

My ex and I were still a couple and on vacation.  This time we were in Magic China in a guest house with a natural hot springs pool filled with three-foot-long Koi.  She was on the couch watching Magic Chinese television…gymnastics, I think.  I was in the pool trying to figure out how the fish could survive in such hot, briny water.  Then, I was sitting next to her on the couch.

“Are you going to be ok with this?”

She turned toward me and and blinked heavy tears from her amazing, blue eyes.

“If this is what you really want…”

And then I woke up.

I’ve had variations of this dream since we broke up last May.  And let’s be honest, by “broke up” I mean she moved out after months and months of my being intolerable and pushing her away.  It’s been well over a year and I still don’t feel any different about her.  Intellectually, post-transition, I know we’re wrong for each other.  And, I don’t think I would ever have another relationship with a woman again…but still. Most of the time I regret how things turned out and how I behaved and how I treated her and how she’s utterly absent from my life now.  I think about all of that and I wonder when I’ll stop feeling this way.

Are you getting old when your regrets and mistakes start winning?

In other news, congratulations Charles and Oyuna! I’m so happy for you two, again   Yes, I know that seemed like a psychotic segue, but my life isn’t all misery and regret.

Sweet, crispy walnuts!  It was as hot as the inside of the Devil’s sweat socks today.  Didn’t we talk about the summer and the heat?

So, tomorrow is our “company picnic” and I am excited!  Last year, I tried to start a tradition where people get super excited about playing croquet with me at the picnic.  I invited a few of the people in the office that I knew/liked and appropriated a badass logo…

Croquet, y'all!

I stole it from the Georgetown croquet club, but added the word “Croquet” in Olde English script so you know it’s about croquet, serious croquet.

This year, I decided to take my croquet campaign nationwide, so to speak.  I started with a lolcat, because, you know, people love lolcats…

I'm not old enough to enjoy croquet!

I added the following text and sent it out to everyone in my organization.

When was the last time you enjoyed a delicious, refreshing game of croquet? If the answer is more than a few minutes ago, don’t you think it’s high time you two got reacquainted? If you are reading this email, you are cordially invited to join your Company Picnic friends for a stimulating round of one of America’s “oldest” lawn games…that’s played with wooden balls…and long hammer things…that isn’t polo.

What: A sweet round of croquet

When: The Company picnic, before and after food…possibly during

Where: That one grassy spot, over there by the tree

Not sure how to play? Do you like rules? Click here!

Was I nervous about sending this goofy email to my entire organization?  Yes.

Do I think most people will enjoy the effort and that this publicity stunt will dramatically increase interest in company picnic lawn sports?  Yes and yes.

Do I enjoy interviewing myself in my own blog?  YES!

Tagged: croquet, Georgetown croquet club logo, gettin' bloggy with it, lolcats, omg! croquet!!!, sick of summer ]]> http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/08/05/pre-company-picnic-awesome/feed/ 2 annahell ITS Croquet seal omg croquet http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/07/30/hott-guyz-yall/ http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/07/30/hott-guyz-yall/#comments Fri, 31 Jul 2009 04:31:50 +0000 annahell http://annahell.wordpress.com/?p=784 ]]>

Mood:	Tired, but bloggy
Music:	Anathema-Restless Oblivion

Wow, I’ve been listening to mostly metal and darker stuff (a lot of Anathema) the last few days and we’ve been having the best time!  It’s been a rainy and cold kind of week and I think I’m already packing away summer for fall.  Sorry summer, you had a good run, but we’ve got to move on.    Frankly, I think we’re all a little tired of your heat, your weird volleyball obsession, those skimpy clothes, and the sweaty hair sticking to the forehead.  So, see you next year, summer.  You know the way out, right?

So kittens, the point of this post is not to illustrate my rich fantasy life, nor my love of autumn.  It bothers me that the seasons are not capitalized. No, like the title says, I want to talk about hot guys, er, Hott Guyz, that I’d like to date/marry/snog and the important qualities said hot guy should posses.  To illustrate, here are too many pictures of guys I like and a little description of why I like them.

Noel Fielding-he’s one of the stars of The Mighty Boosh, he’s English, has messy cool hair, he’s very funny…ummm, cool emo skeleton shirt thing?

John Cusack-You don’t know who John Cusack is?  Come on, people.  He’s that smart, funny American actor from awesome movies like High Fidelity, Better Off Dead, and Grosse Pointe Blank.

Russel Brand-super English, very funny, dead sexy like a gay pirate rocker, messy cool hair (I’m noticing a trend), but I’m not sure that he’s the marrying/stay with a girl more than one day type.

John Krasinski-from The Office and that new, sweet-looking movie with Maya Rudolph.  He’s funny too, has kind of messy hair, and seems like a sweet guy.

Jason Lee-Jason, I have been in love with your dopey charm, messy hair (uh-oh), and quick wit since Mallrats, and you just keep getting better.  Heck, I even like the mustache.  I’m calling it right now…they should totally do a Smokey and the Bandit remake and my betrothed can play The Bandit.

Ben Affleck-Shut up, I don’t want to hear it, you guys.  I thought he was really good in Jersey Girl and Chasing Amy and he’s charming and good looking, ok?

Jason Sudeikis-Finally, a Phil Hartman-esque Saturday Night Live leading man.  It doesn’t hurt that he had a guest run on 30 Rock and that his hair is sorta messy.  Liz Lemon is the crazy…I’d totally move to Cleveland with him.

Sir Jack Black-Again, you may have “opinions” about Mr. Black, but I’m not interested in hearing them.  He’s not bad looking, but he has mega-personality and nuclear wit…mostly messy hair..oh God, I AM that easy!

Paul Rudd-Messy hair, messy hair, messy hair…and he’s a Wet Hot American Summer alum.

Andy “Messy Hair” Sandberg-I’m kind of an SNL nerd too and I really like the era that started with Andy Sandberg’s arrival…”Laser Cats” and “Lazy Sunday.”

Greg Anderson-Dunno if he’s funny or not, but he’s a good-looking beardo, runs Southern Lord Records, and is one half of Sunn O))).  I’m sure his hair is pretty messy.

Stephen O’Malley-a.k.a. SOMA and one half of Sunn O))).  A talented graphic artist and musician who rocks a mean Van Dyke and lives in Paris!  Le sigh!

Stephen Malkmus-Messy hair from way back, Scrabble-loving, and the incredibly talented songwriter from Pavement and Stephen Malkmus and The Jicks. Seriously, I would marry some of his lyrics…to wit: “the yearling took the purse, the goth kid has a hearse” and “The Hook.”

Geof Manthorne-A quiet, dry-witted, messy-haired, sweet, cake-decorating man with the piercing blue-green (hazel?) sex eyes.

Ben Turner-Also from Ace of Cakes.  This isn’t the greatest picture of him, but I assure you, he’s arty, mustachioed, vaguely French-looking, and now.  Seriously, I like his look…like he really looks like he should be from John Water’s Baltimore…in a good way.

Adam Richman-What?  So I watch a lot of foody shows.  I didn’t want to fall in love with Adam Richman.  I have a major problem with competitive eating and it seems like that’s about all he does on Man v. Food.  So, even though I worry about him, he’s got a lot of chubby charm and I’m sure he’d treat a lady right…or at least feed her.

So, if you’re keeping score at home, apparently, I like guys with the brown, messy hair and oodles of personality that are on television or in rock bands. I didn’t know I was so easily pegged.  Which list guy would you rather a) date/marry and b) have a hot, one night, throwdown with*? Are there any non-Pitt/Clooney, glaring omissions?

Tune in next time for Hott Guyz, Y’all II:  The Hott Girlz Edition.

I eat a long walk for lunch most days.  Prior to transitioning at work,  I would jog or walk by myself.  Since then, I usually walk with a friend from my division who’s office is across the hall.

I like cultivating the mystery as much as the next girl, so let’s think up a nom de plume for my office friend.

How about Fonzie? No, that’s stupid.  He’s nothing at all like Arthur “The Fonz” Fonzarelli.

Star Boy?  The Captain of Outer Space? Mmmm, no…too Home Movies-y (but I do love me some Home Movies).   Nice try though.

What about Ted or Teddy? Hmmm, short for teddy bear, reminiscent of Theodore Roosevelt (our nation’s third-sexiest president), Father Ted, fun to say,…that’s it!

Back to the exposition…My solitary lunchtime adventures always seemed like a sort of exorcism, a time away from my thoughts and demons.  Nowadays, walking is an opportunity to connect with another human, laugh, and talk some jive (wow, I actually used “jive” in an irony-free manner).

So, the other day, we’re walking, talking the jive, monkey-shinin’, and Teddy says something about how a person with my old name had something in common with what we were talking about e.g., “Oldname used to walk alone for lunch all the time.”   I wasn’t sure who Teddy was talking about.  Their are few Oldnames at work and Teddy knows most of them.  After a few seconds, I realized that Teddy had spoken of this person a few times before and that this person was probably me.   It was an odd realization, a little bit like attending your own funeral.  I made a snarky comment about being referred to in the third person then promptly forgot about it until later that night.  Later that night (lol), I revisited my snark and unease.  I decided that I didn’t like being referred to by my old name when I was standing right there.

Look, I realize that a lot of this is uncharted territory and that, sometimes, rules have to be made up and broken as needed.  It’s a weird thing to have to delineate the “before” and “after” in my life and I totally understand if someone messes it up as badly as I do.  But still, when you’re talking to me about what I used to wear, I think you can just say, “You used to dress like homeless clown.”  In fact, unless we’re talking about something, biologically male, so to speak, I think it’s ok to say something like, “Anna used to love boxing chickens.”  I don’t think it’s going to mess anything up.

He wasn’t trying to be mean or insulting, but Teddy justified its use by saying that since I was asking people to accept me as this whole other person, it was only right to clearly separate the “then” from the “hence.”  Teddy also believes that people shouldn’t be allowed to change their names or genders on their birth certificates O_o (much more on that later).  So, it’s not uncommon for us to “disagree.”  I countered with the old, “but I’m still the same person” chestnut.  I kind of feel like the same person (ok, not really), but I’m starting to think that’s a half truth, cop out.  It’s bedtime (and my cat is snoring, adorable!), so I’ll save the pre- vs. post-transition identity theory for another, possibly nonexistent, point in the future.  But, what do you think?  How have you handled this situation?  Did it get up your nose like it did mine? Do you still feel like the same person? 

Yawn.  Let’s put a pretty bow on this…when it comes to me and my feelings, logic is always going to have a tough time.  It’s prolly easier to just shut up and do what I say.

The following is the third and final installment of my “award-winning”, road trip-alogue:  Anna of Green Cornfields; or How I Wrote ‘Summa Vaca ‘09: Burn Midwest Burn!’ The previous installments can be found here and here and here (jk).

So, there I was, frantically fleeing Iowa towards a date with Omaha destiny.  As I mentioned before, I actually like Omaha.  I lived there for four years during high school and junior high and it somehow managed to charm its way into my blackened little heart.  There’s a lot to dislike about Omaha and Nebraska (Nebraska Cornhusker football, beef eaters, corn, that f&@*ing speeding ticket, etc.) but there’s also lots to love (Nebraska Cornhusker football, The Old Market, Nebraska beef, Saddle Creek records/Conor Oberst, Cellophane Ceiling, Elliot Smith, Homer’s, The Ranch Bowl, Drastic Plastic, Matthew Sweet, Sokol Hall, etc.) .

Since Omaha and I are old friends, I wanted to, you know, drive around, see the sights, scratch the lottery tickets, smell the smells.   Well, the show started at 8 and I didn’t get to town until like 5:30.  I had the problems leaving Des Moines (what is it about me, packing, and leaving on time?) and I felt like a nap before the show.  I could have done a little sight seeing before leaving town next morning, but apparently I felt more like drinking a lot the night before and waking up late the next day.  C’est la vie.

I checked into the hotel, The Magnolia…

…and had one of the nice young fellas park my car and take my bags to my room.  I was funny on that trip.  I’m usually a frugal sort of gal, but I didn’t feel like having to deal with bags or parking at all the whole time I was there.  Even though it’s a nicer hotel, it doesn’t seem like they were accustomed to that…like I got a “Ohhh, kay” when I called the front desk asking to have my car brought around and bags brought down.  That, and the fact that they charged me $12 for overnight parking, made me think a little less of the place.  The people were nice though.

After a short nap, I got dressed and did my makeup.  This was my first, post-transition concert and I was having the kittens about what to wear.  In the bad, old days, I would have worn some cargo shorts and a band t-shirt.  After a lot of fashion show, I decided on a heavier eye makep, pair of nicer jeans, a Melvins t-shirt (represent!), and my black Chucks.  So, it wasn’t a radical departure, but I felt like I looked ok.  After pysching myself up for a few minutes, I left my room and drove a few miles to Sokol Underground, et voila!

Gymnastics after every rock concert!

Somehow, I managed to be late and miss most of Eagle Twin.  They were loud and heavy and not unlike Sunn O)) (even more like Khanate), but I was a bit disappointed.  Sunn O)) takes care of the heavy and loud so well that it would have been nice to have some counterpoint to all that heaviosity.  Here’s some video…

Ok, I know the sound quality isn’t great, but that’s kind of what they sounded like…slow, droning, sludge.  When I was filming the first part, I was standing right next to an 8′ tall PA/FOH speaker stack and the sound coming out of it was scary loud.  I’ve been to a lot of concerts and have stood right next to a lot of FOH speakers and that was the first time I’ve ever feared for my safety.

Sunn O)) was up next…

Ok, you watched the video the video and I watched them do it live, but I’m still at a loss for how to describe the experience.  Here’s some illustration…

-they kept the three smoke machines on the entire time

-the sound from the amplifiers was louder than Eagle Twin, but more clean

-they only played one song for…I don’t even know how long.  It felt like at least 90 minutes, but it could have been two hours

-unless it was one of the quieter, creepy as fuck passages,  you couldn’t hear the vocalist at all., but he barely stopped singing

-I’m pretty sure I entered a trance at one point

-it felt like my ears were stuffed with cotton for hours after the show

-we never saw any of the performer’s faces until after the show

-there was no encore…at the end, we all kind of stood around, clapping occasionally.  They weren’t coming back, but it’s like we were trauma victims in shock and needed to be told where to go

This is going to sound hokey and weird, but we communed with each other in a way that was far more profound than the usual transformative, live-music experience.  We bathed in unhealthy doses of perfect, pure sound and journeyed to distant planes and the edges of every map.  It was prayer and meditation cloaked in the guise of avant-garde, doom metal.  So, um, yeah…I liked it a lot and I’ll definitely see them when they come to Denver.

Still though, the live show experience might be passing me by.  I was prolly the oldest person there by five years and the oldest woman by ten.  I went alone and left alone.  A lot of Jagermeister and Pabst Blue Ribbon (turns out, I’m a hipster after all!) helped me feel better about being there, but it’s not as fun as it used to be.  Maybe it would be more fun if I had someone to go with, but since most of my friends are married/shacked-up/lame/fucking jerks/have horrible taste in music/imaginary, I doubt this will change any time soon.  Maybe I should just move to Chicago, Becca?  We’ll see…

That’s about it (ja, I know, 10,000 words later).  I drove back the next day without incident…had a Runza.  I was kind of worried about mah kitteh since I’d left her alone for five days, but she somehow managed to survive and greeted me warmly upon my return.  I went to bed about an hour after arriving home and dreamed of you, gentle reader.

I am so sick of writing.  Goodnight!

It’s only a repost from SOMA’s blog, but it’s funny, cute, and I can so relate…

MOM!? Have you seen my Witchfinder General t-shirt?

Tagged: lol, metal, NWOBHM, SOMA, Witchfinder General ]]> http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/07/24/not-like-the-other-kids/feed/ 0 annahell family photo with metal kid http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/07/24/sick-day/ http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/07/24/sick-day/#comments Fri, 24 Jul 2009 17:27:29 +0000 annahell http://annahell.wordpress.com/?p=776 ]]>

Mood:	Still kinda sickly
Music:	The Minutemen-Paranoid Chant

*we were talking about taking a walk after lunch, but I was at home, sick…

Anna : i am the sick
Him: oh no!
Anna: oh yes!
Anna: i blame you
Him: Well, that’s okay since I was leery of picking up my visitors all sweaty anyway.
Anna: as you wish, but there’s nothing wrong with walking alone
Anna: i ran after work last night
Him: yay!
Him: So what sickness do you that you think I gave you?
Anna: dunno, shingles, the yeeby jeebies, leesh menaiosis (sp?)
Anna: hippo flu
Him: I went for a checkup just yesterday and I am sure I have none of those.
Anna: swine rabies
Anna: i’d ask again, those are very real and terrible diseases

And that’s the 100th Blog, Sweet Blog entry, America!

We did it Internets! Somehow, I’ve managed to cajole, hoodwink, and harangue people into looking at my blog just over 1.0×10^3 times.  Granted, one in three of those views is prolly mine (I just love my blog), but numbas are numbas, people and you can’t argue with steam-powered locomotion.

I started this blog in…March, I think.  So, that’s about 250 views per month, but there is a slow, upward growth trend.  So, in other words, it should only take me another, 3.56 more years (approximately) to become “internet famous.”  I can’t wait.

In other news, this is like post 99, so stay tuned for a 100 Posts All-Star Spectacular just as soon as I get around to posting 100 posts.

In other, other news, my visit to the dentist was great and incident-free.  Actually, I was expecting some kind of something to happen, but it was totally normal.  Either they’re the most courteous and professional dental practice in the world, or it never occurred to them that I’m trans.  Either way, I highly recommend having an angst-free trip to the dentist.  Also, it looks like my name is good and changed with my university.  I posted this in the comments last time, but it seems like the problem was related to my numerous entries (due to numerous student jobs) in the HR database.  What the HR database has to do with my student email and random web greetings, I’ll never know.  Regardless, I’m glad it’s fixed.

Oh, and these lovelies have been clogging up my tabs for far too long…

Entangle II by Josh Keyes

Scorch II by Josh Keyes

Death by James Jirat Patradoon

Untitled by James Jirat Patradoon

Untitled by James Jirat Patradoon

Tagged: 1000 views, going to the dentist, HR database hell, internet famous, james jirat patradoon, josh keyes, name change, steam-powered locomotion ]]> http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/07/22/and-thats-1000/feed/ 6 annahell Scorch II by Josh Keyes Death by James Jirat Patradoon Untitled by James Jirat Patradoon http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/07/21/reasons-not-to-be-on-tv-and-chat-rooms/ http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/07/21/reasons-not-to-be-on-tv-and-chat-rooms/#comments Wed, 22 Jul 2009 05:03:35 +0000 annahell http://annahell.wordpress.com/?p=750 ]]>

Mood:	Ready for bed
Music:	The voices in my head

So, I saw the Chloe Prince show.  I thought it was pretty balanced and well-done, but I don’t have any plan to comment further.  I’m watching her chat and webcast right now and I thought I would share the bounty of the Internet’s genius with you.  This is supposed to be  an after-show followup kind of thing, but the chat part quickly devolved into the worst kind of Internet joke.  And it went on like this for hours.  I think these selected excerpts from her chat log speak for themselves…

21:55 Babs : Do you think you could ever be in a lesbian affair?
21:55 Babs : loveforlife is interested

21:57 arty : ok that last post of mine didnt make sense once out of my head

21:57 Jamie : In other countries they STONE the wifes to death when they ‘misbehave’   here we kill them digitally…. what is the difference?   I think everybody that is say

21:58 Babs : dou youhave a epipen I hope.

22:03 bfu : Yes the breasts are very nice

22:05 arty : I am female and my husband has klinefelters
22:05 CurtisLoew : lol

22:05 CAT changed their nickname to CAT.

22:05 CurtisLoew : bow chicka wow wow

22:08 sc diane : bing bam zoom
22:10 sad : You suck

22:12 luvlife : ohhh drive into a truck, his someone else

22:13 N : No, God made her a man. Jesus saved her and can save you too
22:13 luvlife : cry now
22:13 Joy : fate made her a man, God made her soul and she figured out a way to set it free
22:13 N : christians are not haters
22:13 CAT : STOP BEING MEAN PEOPLE SHE’S A PERSON STOP PLEASE

22:14 bfu : I AM THE SMARTEST MAN ALIVE!

22:19 phildog : Canada! *** yea!
22:19 phildog : Canada! Hell Yea!
22:19 phildog : Canada Rocks!
22:19 phildog : Oh Canada, my home and native land.
22:19 phildog : True patriot love, in all our sons command. 

22:20 bfu : CANADA IS THE WORST PLACE IN THE UNIVERSE

22:20 sc diane : Shania Twain is Canadian

22:20 bfu : SHANIA TWAIN????

22:26 CurtisLoew : enough with the questions how about a fashion show

22:28 CHRIS HANSEN : wait i have a question, you once had a ***, now you have a vagoo?
22:28 CHRIS HANSEN : a pen15

22:28 yakui changed their nickname to HIBILLYMAYSHERE.

22:29 HIBILLYMAYSHERE : WHAT IS BULLPYCKEY EVEN IS?

22:30 CHRIS HANSEN : Hi arty, please have a seat over there.

22:30 phildog : We also invented other wonderful phrases.
22:30 HIBILLYMAYSHERE : WITH OXYCLEEN

22:30 BSF : General McAuliffe said “Nuts” when the Germans asked him to surrender the city of Bastogne. That took courage, a lot of it!  You showed the same courage!!

Thank you disturbed shut-ins of the Internets!  Keep doing what ya do!

I’m only going to try meth once.  I’m not going to be like that guy.

or this guy…

or these guys…

Seriously you guys…have you seen those awesome meth commericals?  They make me want to try meth at least once.  I’m pretty sure I could take meth (just once) and not become a troubled youngster who engages in morally bankrupt behavior.  Now who’s with me?

I don’t usually do this, but Chloe seems like a good egg, so…

If you hadn’t already heard, there’s a show on ABC tonight (check your local listings) about a transsexual woman called, “Family Secrets: ABC Primetime – The Chloe Prince Story.”

She's the one on the left.

If you have any questions about trans stuff, you should prolly watch it.  She seems to be a sane and well-spoken example of a trans-woman who’s making it work.  There’s more about the show on her blog.

In other news, I have my first, post-transition dental appointment today and I’m a little bit nervous.  I had a bad dream about the appointment, but I’m sure it will be fine.  I swear, one day I’ll be done with all of these uncomfortable first-time experiences.

UGH!   I’ve changed my name most everywhere and I haven’t had many problems with the old one creeping up…except for at my university.  I’m taking an engineering management graduate class, Project Management Systems (weee!) in the fall.  This class will be like a refresher before I start back to grad school for my MSEE in the spring (or next fall).   So, I’ve been trying to take care of everything before the semester starts and, frustratingly, my old name pops up all over the place.  I’ve put in a few helpdesk tickets to fix it, but it seems like they’re only fixing one instance at a time.  Today, I checked my student email and sent out a test message and my address comes up like…

Old Name [new.name@theplaceigotoschool.edu]

So, that’s been a lot of fun.  I sent them another email a few minutes ago and asked them if they could just, you know, fix everything all at the same time.  The thing that kills me is that this is a new school, sort of.  I graduated from another campus, so some of the records are the same, but most are different.  I changed my name with the registrar at the old campus and I thought I was done.  Silly rabbit.

Right now, the whole thing bothers me, but it’s more of an annoyance.  However, I’ll be nigh-devestated if this sort of mistake pops up in the classroom or during the school year.  I can imagine a professor getting a class roster with my old name on it and demanding to know who I am and why I’m not on their list.  Good times.

So, apparently they have this brand new thing on the Internet where you can make yourself look a character from The Simpsons. Here’s mine…

Anna E. Nahasapeemapetilon-Frink, Esq.

Cool right?  I know!  It’s like “looking” into a “mirror.”  I’m pretty sure I’m the first person the Internet that’s ever heard of this site, but you have my permission to go back to 2007, make your own, and send it to me.  Here’s my finger, far from the pulse of the Internet.

Oh Mylanta!  It feels like I’m never going to finish this story and it’s beginning to feel a lot like a burden.  So, I might as well just get it over with already.

Where were we?  Right…farmer’s market, not moving back to Iowa.  So, after driving around for a bit, we went to breakfast, bought some wine (Joel Gott 2007 Zinfandel.  I overpaid for it, but it is, by far, the best Zinfandel I’ve ever had.  You should buy it.), and then went to my Stepmother’s favorite witch shop.

For some reason, I’ve wanted to buy some tarot cards for a while now.  I’ve looked a few places, but hadn’t ever felt like it was the right time to buy.  I told my Stepmother about this, and she proceeded to tell me all about how she’d been taking tarot classes.  Weird, no?  I ended up buying this one (Golden Rider)…

…because it literally fell off the shelf at me and I like the art.  I bought the cards because…I think I’ve mentioned my interest in things occulty.  I’m too much of an engineer to take much of it it too seriously, but there’s no harm in study.  My theory on the tarot is that if anything positive comes of it, win.  Like, even if it just shows me things that I already know (but haven’t been able to verbalize or admit), then it’s money well spent.  Also, I feel like I’m in a place where I have some insight into my self and my life.  So, don’t be surpirsed if I start putting up today’s card under the song and mood.  I have a lot more to say about the occult, spirituality, and metaphysics, but we’re veering dangerously close to off-topica.

Amway, the shop was really cute and funny.  It had “serious” magick stuff (potion fixin’s, candles, Eye of Newt (she turned me into a newt!, lol), etc.) but also a lot of Harry Potter and fun things.  There were three women (owner and employees) in there and they all had this sort of knowing aura about them and I’m sure I could have learned loads from them had I stuck around.  Anyway, I could have spent hours in there.

Here’s the teeny, tiniest side story–the witch shop is located in the same neighborhood that two friends of mine used to live.  There was a dive bar in the neighborhood and when the mood struck, we’d amble down for cheap PBR’s and earthy aromas.  This was the kind of dive bar that had a jukebox with “Mountain Jam” by The Allman Brothers on it, and I would play it every.time.I.went.to.the.bar.  For those of you that don’t know, “Mountain Jam” is a 33 minute long Southern Rock epic of improvisation.  I’m not really a fan of the song (too long, too Allman-y), but playing that song for the bar would amuse me to no end.  The same cannot be said for the other patrons…let’s just say we had to leave the bar earlier than we had hoped one night.  I also used to play the Beatles’ “Revolution 9″ when I played darts with my friend Shari because it would to drive her bat shit crazy.  Ah, good times.

After the shop, we headed back to my parent’s place and did a whole lot of nothing.  My Stepmother had been having problems with her laptop, so I played at trying to fix it.  Later, we made dinner.  Dad did a dramatic reenactment of Best Steaks Eva and I sang the crowd favorite cucumber, hairoom tomato, and onion salad (with handmade vinaigrette, no less)  song.  Après dinner, we drank and talked and watched the backyard neighbors light fireworks and shoot Roman Candles at each other…seriously.  It was just like an episode of Jackass…amusing, dangerous, homoerotic.

The topic of me and my transition did come up during our al fresco dining and drinking, but it wasn’t as heavy as you might imagine. Basically, we talked about some of the mechanics of the transition process and how things had been since going full-time, but that was it. I’m not sure how my Dad and Stepmother were so cool and accepting (or at least acted that way, which, at first, can be good enough), but I credit them with making the trip fun and successful (in terms of getting reacquainted).  In other words, we were able to just talk to each other and enjoy each others company.  To me, that was the best part of the vacation.  Except for the farmer’s market, we didn’t go watch fireworks or do anything other than hang out and talk.  I’d forgotten how nice that can be.

Regarding names and pronouns…my Stepmother, bless her, never slipped up….which amazed the sass right out of me.  Dad was another story.  He’s been a salesman his entire life, so the Dale Carnegie friend-winning method of always addressing a person by their name is as natural to him as breathing.  So, he hardly ever said the wrong name.  But, try as he might, he could not seem to get his head around the new pronouns.  Stepmom and I corrected him as much as we could, but it didn’t seem to sink in until the last day.

And you know what?  It was ok that he messed up all the time.  When I first came out to people, it was a big deal for me if they made a mistake.  Like it was my fault because I wasn’t presenting myself well enough, and those mistakes really hurt my feelings.  Now, I’m a lot more confident, and I realize that this is a process that we’re all going through.  Of course, I’ll be upset if the situation never improves, but that seems like a remote possibility at this point.  And like I said, Dad was almost perfect by the time I left.

At some late hour, we moved into the house to watch television.  Dad promptly fell asleep and Stepmom and I started talking about all kinds of things, but a lot of it was about Dad.  He’s just turned 60 and has always enjoyed food, drink, and cigars probably more than he should.  So Stepmom and I worry about him and wish he’d take better care of himself, but he’s not the kind of guy that you can just make healthy.  He has to make his own choice, but I think time might be running out.  So, that was kind of a sad topic, but it was nice to bond with Stepmom about something.

Sunday was more of the same.  Stepmom and I took the dogs for a long walk, Dad made hamburgers, I made Sangria, we watched True Blood, we drank the Sangria, we talked, we watched The Women, etc. Dad had to work late Monday morning, so we said a quick goodbye and I packed then drove to Omaha.

Jeez!  I feel like I’m serializing a novel…Anna of Green Cornfields:  My Shocking, but True Midwest Adventure. The tale isn’t done yet kittens, but we’re close to the end.  Tune in next time for fawning accounts of modern rock and roll music and more, less-than-amusing anecdotes from the road.

Well, it’s not like I’m getting a lot of work done.  I got home at about 8 last night after driving most of the day and falling asleep on the couch minutes after walking in the door was the best I could manage.  I still have the sleep/vaca hangover and it’s been hard to get back into my work routine.  So I might as well blog.

Let’s start at the beginning…so, I had the worst time trying to get out of town.  I had scheduled electrolysis for my last day in town, a.k.a. Thursday.  I left work early to run some errands before the appointment.  I needed to refill my monthly prescriptions, but didn’t have any refills left.  I also wanted to change my name with both my doctor’s office and pharmacy.  Well, that turned out to be a 1.5 hour ordeal.  I had also planned to get my oil changed before electrolysis.  It had been a while since my last oil change and I had a long road trip ahead of me.  Long story short, I didn’t get my oil changed and was 15 minutes late to electrolysis.

The revised, post-electrolysis plan was to pack that night and get an oil change first thing in the morning (around 8 am).  Somehow, I kind of just fell asleep during packing my clothes and didn’t leave the house until after 10 am…I even unpacked at one point! I got my oil changed (at my new favorite, because they were so nice and fast,  oil change place) and was on the road by 11.  So, really bad start and I was beginning to doubt if I should go at all what with all the bad omens.

After leaving town, things improved considerably…right up until I got a fucking $175 speeding ticket in godforsaken Nebraska for going 91 mph in a 75 mph zone! Thankfully, I had slowed from a little over 100 (I even hit 120 once).

So, I hate cops.  Really.  I realize that police are a necessary evil and that such a statement is juvenile and that I should probably just be nicer and grow up and vote and pay taxes, but still.  And the one that stopped me didn’t do anything to make me feel better about the police.  He had all kinds of crazy crap to say, “Do you know why I stopped you?  Were you using cruise control?  Didn’t your little radar detector go off?  What do you do for a living?  You seem surprised that you’re getting a ticket.” and on and on.  I’m not opposed to speeding tickets, but the thing that kills me about cops is that they always want to play amateur detective and moralist with you.  I’m an adult.  I own a fast car with superior handling.  I am a skilled driver and I don’t drive recklessly.  If I have an accident in the middle of nowhere/Nebraska, I’m only going to hurt myself.  Just give me the ticket and let me get on with my life.  The cop that stopped me was one of at least 30 that I saw that day in Nebraska.  I never saw or heard from one state patrol car in Iowa.  The fact is, Nebraska is strapped for cash and they used the holiday weekend to raise money on the backs of nicer people that live in sexier states.

The drive was kind of nice.  I usually burn a lot of worry calories over-analyzing my presentation and voice.  I barely thought about any of that while driving, getting gas, or stopping for bathroom breaks…which was a nice vacation in and of itself.

Anyway, billions and billions of incident-free hours later, I pulled into Dad’s driveway.    He opened up the garage for me and let out a quick chuckle of disbelief.  He said something about how I wasn’t joking around and then gave me a big hug and said that I looked nice…Awwwww !  I followed him inside and we got down to watching some TV and talking about nothing important.  I took a long while for my stepmother to come down and I was kind of worried about her reaction.  We’ve never been close and have had disagreements in the past.  She greeted and hugged me warmly and we never had a problem.  She said I looked just like my sister, which I’ve heard before, but is hard for me to see.  After that, we all went upstairs for some drinking and more talking.  I don’t think we talked about anything too serious that night, but it was nice to just hang out with them.

The next morning, we went to the farmer’s market downtown.  I took a long time to get ready (thankfully my stepmother took a little bit longer).  I asked my stepmother’s advice on makeup (Should I wear foundation?  Can you see my mustache?  Does this lip gloss make me look like a woman who sells herself, cheaply?) and what I should wear.  We finally got down to the market and walked around for a while before breakfast.  I was pretty nervous at this point and I was sure everyone was looking at me.  They might have been, but it wasn’t in a mean way.  Regardless, it’s hard to move past that feeling.  Someone might look at you because you’re just odd looking, or a tall woman, or because they like what you’re wearing.  It doesn’t always have to mean that they figured out that you’re trans.  Still though, I felt like I was sticking out and I think this is hard for non-trans people to understand.  Then again, it’s telling that my parents were not embarrassed to be seen with me and had a hard time understanding my discomfort.  Apparently,  I was able to cobble together some self-confidence and faith in my presentation and their behavior reflected that.  That’s a good lesson for all of us, little kittens.  Smiling, good posture, easy laughter, and lots of inappropriate winking are excellent substitutes for actual self-confidence.  Amway, I think a lot of us are,  initially at least, thinking about “sticking out” a lot of the time…and it sucks.  I think it gets better, but I doubt it ever goes away entirely.

It was kind of cold and rainy that morning, so we ducked inside a coffee shop for warm drinks and a respite from the rain.  I kind of felt like things were going too well and that we were being a bit too best-behavior-y, so I said…

Me: You know, you guys can ask me anything you want.  Honestly.  I have nothing to hide from you.

Dad: Is that your real hair?

Stepmom: Has transition been hard?

Me: Um, maybe we can save some of your questions for a time when we’re not sitting in the middle of  a crowded  coffee shop.

Dad bought some nice vegetables and cheese at the market.  He had planned on making steaks and I got the idea to make a summerific tomato, cucumber, and red onion salad.  I wanted to find some heirloom tomatoes for the salad but I had a hard time explaining them to my Dad.

Me: Oooh, we should get some heirloom tomatoes for the salad.

Dad:  What kind of tomatoes?

Me: Heirloom.

Dad: Never heard of ‘em.

Me:  Oh, they’re really good.

Dad: Hair room?

Me: No Dad, heir-loom…like passed down from your grandparents.

Dad:  Oh, right!  Nope, still nothing.  What do they taste like?

Me:  Well, you know, tomatoe-y.  They’re just different, older varieties.

Dad: *blank stare*

Me:  Would you just buy these for me?

So, lovely hairroom tomatoes in hand, we took our leave of the market.  Dad and Stepmom drove me on a little tour around the downtown.  I lived there for a couple of years before joining the Army and it’s grown up a lot since.   For instance, downtown used to be a graveyard after 5 pm and now they have lofts and nightlife.  I had a brief moving back fantasy, but, thankfully,  I remembered that I hate Iowa’s weather and lack of culture and jobs.  Still though, living in the same city as your family can be nice.  Why don’t we all just move to Portland?

OMG, this is out-of-control long, so I’m going to wrap it up for now.  Tune in next time for fun with pronouns, shocking confessions, stepmother/stepdaughter bonding, boutique hotels, Home Alone XVI:  We Forgot the Cat!, me and my tarot, and the closest we’re going to get to a Disaster Area concert.

Sorry, but I have the tireds and thus cannot answer all of your burning, yet unasked, questions about my vacation.  Let’s just say that is was too short, a lot of fun, a giant love fest, involved way too much driving/money spending/speeding tickets/food eating/drink drinking, and that the concert was…profound.  Here’s a picture…

Those aren't rabbit ears.

Witty commentary, in-depth analysis, and low-quality video to follow.

Didn’t I warn you about the blog titles?   I’m not talking about vomiting or Bulimia, sorry.  I’m referring to this feeling I’ve had recently.  I want to move and I’ve been window shopping for a sexy, new downtown condo right next to where I get on the bus.  I want to buy a new a place with a kitchen like this…

and a living room like this…

and a patio like this…

Unfortunately, there are two problems with my plan.  First, me and the bank already own a townhouse and, given the current real estate market, it seems like there’s a 99% chance of no fucking way that it will sell anytime soon for anywhere near what I bought it for.  Second, these sorts of places start at about one hundred thousand American dollars more than what I paid for my place.  That sort of mortgage isn’t totally ridiculous for me, but it would be awfully hard to manage with my car payment, electrolysis, out-of-control cocaine habit, et al.

In other words, I’ve got the moves, real bad and I don’t know what to do about it.  I’ve been having the lottery winning, new condo fantasies all week.  This is the fantasy part–>

After buying the condo, I’d live simply. Maybe I’d sell my car and just take the bus and ride my bike everywhere!  Maybe I’d start a small container garden on the patio? Just me in my adorable, little apartment….reading books, drinking cocoa, yoga knitting!  In the winter, my boyfriend and I (he’s a pilot) would make love for hours by the fire.  In the summer, I’d go to the farmer’s market and throw intimate parties…with tapas and the finest Argentinian wines!   I’d go to the ballet and the theatre every.single.night!

Sounds awesome, right?  Now, I don’t actually know what tapas are or how to make them, but I’m sure they throw in a fine-living orientation and some recipes on move-in day.  With a place like that, I’m sure everything would just sort of work itself out, y’know?  The places I’m looking at are small (<1000 s.f.), but I kind of welcome the opportunity to pare down to the essentials.  Honestly, who needs books and a table saw?  I mean, really.

So, I’m just putting it out there…if anyone would like to help me out with selling my crap shack or buying a new place, I am officially accepting assistance.  Seriously though, this is a goal of mine and I’m going to try and make it a reality in the next two or three years.  After that, I’ll invite you over for whatever the hell tapas are and some classy spitting off the balcony.

O hai!  I just thought I’d let y’all know that I think our flag is awesome.  Just look at it…

It’s colorful, clean, modern, has our state’s inital in case we forget…did I mention it’s colorful?  And even though the North American Vexillological Association (lol, what?) only ranked it 16th out of 72, it’s #1 in my book.

I’m fine, things are great.  I have some things to share, but I’m not all that interested in writing a lot right now.  Instead, let’s talk about Rap names.

A friend at work asked if he could attribute a quote to me.  I told him he could, but only if he used my rapper name.  It occurred to me that I hadn’t chosen a new rap name since legally changing my name.  I used to go by Masta P, but that doesn’t seem fitting any more.  We hashed out some ideas and took advantage of some of the online rap name generators.  Is it weird that there are, like, more than five of these?  I think two is plenty.  Anyway, here are the contenders….

Missy P

The Notorious AEP

Magic Annie

Rich AP Love

Jiggy A Annie

Phat Funk AA

Handbag Bitch (wtf?  really, internet?)

Dynomite Bammy (this one came with a picture of Flava Flav (see below), so I think I have to use it)

I’m actually kind of disappointed in the selection.  It’s like female rap names are harder so they didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about how to generate them.  Here’s a hint tho…you prolly shouldn’t use Phat or Bitch…just saying.  Still, I think I’ll go with Magic Annie or Missy P.  What’s your rap name?

Also, for some reason, my office smells like ammonia.

SUNN O))) is pleased to announce that we will be touring the west coast again, this August.

SUNN O)))
MONOLITHS & DIMENSIONS
WEST COAST 2009

5 Aug Neumo’s / Seattle (w/ Accüsed, Black Breath, Trap Them)
6 Aug Neumo’s / Seattle (w/ Earth, Pelican, Eagle Twin)
8 Aug Independent / San Francisco (w/ Accüsed, Eagle Twin)
9 Aug Historic Brookdale Lodge / Brookdale (w/ Accüsed, Eagle Twin)
11 Aug Center for Arts, Eagle Rock / Los Angeles (w/ Accüsed, Eagle Twin)
13 Aug Bluebird Theatre / Denver (w/ Accüsed, Eagle Twin)
14 Aug Avalon Theatre / Salt Lake City (w/ Accüsed, Eagle Twin)

They’re lucky they’re coming here.  We were going to have words (bad words) if they skipped us again.  I kind of wish I could go see them in Seattle too…Earth and Pelican are grooby.

This one time I made a video about some of my favorite artists and put it on YouTube…

I’d hate for you to miss out on my YouTube videos from five months ago…

“What Bill [Burroughs] explained to me then was pivotal to the unfolding of my life and art: Everything is recorded. If it is recorded, then it can be edited. If it can be edited then the order, sense, meaning and direction are as arbitrary as the agenda and/or person editing. This is magick.”

Genesis Breyer P-Orridge

I’m all bunged up with the Art, so here…

Sometimes it just works out like that.  I saw a post on one of the art/design sites I subscribe to about this gorgeously weird movie by a film making venture called Terri Timely.   Which led me to fall in love with the video for this song…

It’s Sprout and the Bean by Joanna Newsom and my heart asploded the first time I heard it.

Oh, so what’s ydk over at iregret been up to?

Hey y’all, it’s Brian Willmont!

Wait!  Florentijn Hofman wants to bid you farewell.

Tagged: all bunged up with the Art, art, Brian Willmont, Florentijn Hofman, Joanna Newsom, magical unicorns, Sprout and Bean, Terri Timely, y'all, ydk ]]> http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/06/23/art-yall/feed/ 0 annahell http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/06/22/summa-vaca-%e2%80%9809-burn-midwest-burn-the-plan/ http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/06/22/summa-vaca-%e2%80%9809-burn-midwest-burn-the-plan/#comments Mon, 22 Jun 2009 18:23:03 +0000 annahell http://annahell.wordpress.com/?p=587 ]]>

Mood:	Monday, y’all
Music:	Spacemen 3-Feel So Good

I really like the band, Sunn O))) and have been wanting to see them for years.  But, since they’re snooty metal art hounds, they only seem to play in hip, sexy cities like…New York City!  Tokyo!  Tel Aviv!  Paris! I always figured it would be a long time/never before a trip to one of those sexy cities and a Sunn O))) show aligned.  So, I was shocked and delighted to see that they had deigned to play some shows in the lowly Midwest and in a city that’s sort of close to me and to my heart…Omaha, Nebraska!

Once I saw that, I planned out a mini vaca in a matter of hours.  My father lives in Des Moines, IA (which is like three hours from Omaha) so I decided to make the drive out to see him then swing back to the Big O for the concert on Monday.  I’ll leave the Friday after next and drive all day to Des Moines.  We’ll hang out and celebrate America’s birthday, then I’ll drive to Omaha for the show and stay overnight Monday.

This prolly isn’t a great time for a vacation, but whatever.  It’s been a long time since I did anything fun for myself and it will be really great to see my Dad and the band.  This is the first time that my Dad will have seen me since transition, so it’s going to be kind of weird at first and I’m the nervous.  But, I’m sure that will pass minutes after I get there.  I’m so happy and together these days, it’s hard for people to not be charmed to death by my…happiness, togetherness, and death-inducing charm.  And bless his little heart, Pops seems really excited and is already making plans for our time.  I’m excited too.  I haven’t seen him in a couple of years and he’s been really supportive of my transition.

I haven’t written much about my parents and their reaction to the news of my transition.  The short version is that my father has been very sweet and has really been trying to make an effort to accept the new me.  Mom is…incommunicado.  We spoke at Christmas and I have received, maybe two, terse emails from her.  And I’m not sure why she’s had that reaction.  She isn’t extremely religious and is fairly liberal, politically.  So…what’s motivating this?  Maybe she feels like she failed as a parent?  Whatever, it’s all pointless speculation until she actually tells me what’s going on.  Lord knows when that will be and I’m not sure what I can do to improve our relationship in the meantime.  So, I’m very much looking forward to renewing my relationship with at least one of my parents.

K, back on topic…so, Sunn O)))…

…is kind of hard to describe.  They’re basically doom metal slowed down to the point of ambient, diaphragm-crushing abstraction.  The reason I want to see them so badly is because their shows are more like a physical, rather than musical experience.  They usually perform in black robes and pack a smaller venue with dry ice smoke, a single light source and many gigantic bass cabinet guitar amplifiers.  I think the result is like swimming at the bottom of a very deep, frozen lake and witnessing an ancient summoning ritual.  Or, kind of like…

So, I’m excited (and frightened) but it should be an unforgettable experience and a very interesting way to end Summa Vaca ‘09.

Hmm, posting pictures is so much easier than being clever with the words.  Maybe I should switch?

Here’s one way into my heart…

A good start

Better...

Awwww-dorable!

These are pictures of the super cute coin purse I just got from Etsy shop, fieldofroses.  The purse itself was worth the money but the wrapping and details increased my happiness by a factor of 0.25.  Well done hand-made Internets retailer!

Here’s summer vaca teaser #2.

Let there be Doom.

I was hiding in my office…

jk.

Hi Internets!

It’s me, Anna.  I used to write in this blog back when I had something to write about.  Remember?  I had the angst and the stories and the whatnot.  I just wanted to check in and let you know that I’m incredibly happy, in love, wealthy, and have recently acquired the secret to immortality.  Ok, only one of those is kind of true (it’s the immortality) but, y’know, things are good and a lot better than last week.  There isn’t a lot of major/breaking news (I know, you can’t wait to read this) so let’s have a look at the old bulleted/hyphenated/whathaveyou list with the indentation for emphasis.

-I had my one year hormone-iversary on June 6th.  I guess I’ll count that as a new birthday of sorts since that was when I started working on my transition in earnest.  I don’t have much to say about the anniversary other than it’s shocking how much has changed since then.

-I made some super sexy vaca plans for the 4th of July, but I’m not ready to disclose them just yet.  I’ll give you some teasers tho…hot Midwestern nights…awkward,yet touching reunions…bowel quaking, ULF, rock music…yeah!  I’ll be posting the details when I feel like posting the details.

-I won at cleaning the house, relaxing, not going crazy, and crafting this past weekend!  I should post a picture of my cross stitch project (’cause that’s what the kids seem to go for these days), but I think it looks cool so far.  And I’m pretty sure it’s going to cause the local (meaning, in my house) arts community  (meaning, my cat (what? she took art history)) to burst into explosive, green flames or something equally great.  Here’s what I’ve learned so far:  cross-stitch is deceptively simple and takes FOR EVER.  I’ve been working on it since Saturday night, and I have like seven, four-inch rows so far.  But it’s going to be great, you’ll see.

-Season 3 of Battlestar Galactica has been my constant cross-stitch companion.  Even though I have it on DVD and was prolly in the room when it originally aired, I have almost no idea how they got to Season 4.  I know this because I bought the fourth season and, while watching it, proclaimed, “I have almost no idea how they got here, to Season 4.” And you know what, y’all?  Battlestar Galactica is a really good show…which is probably news to no one.  Timely?  Check!

-I took the title from one of this girl’s photos on flickr.  She has a cool “what I wore” kinda blog, but I really liked the title.  I often find myself struck by odd and interesting phrasing on the Internet, and I try to file it away for future use whenever I can.

-Uh oh, I accidentally listened to an entire Jethro Tull song.  Idon’t hate JT, but I’d rather keep it to myself, y’know?

-I patronized the public transportation system again today!  I would have just said, “rode the bus”, but I also ride a train and “patronizing the public transportation system” sounds way hotter.  So, that makes it, what?  Two times in…five weeks?  Go go go!  Me me me! What?  Not so great, you say?  Shut up, I say.  I was having a hard time getting up these last few weeks.  I think I have a pretty bright future in pub transpo patron’ing from now on.

-I got my her did on Monday and the fabulous result is the reason for my new found happiness and vigor.  If someone ever tells you that having nice-looking hair is not important, you have my permission to politely correct their error.

-I have concluded Internet Dating Sesh 1.0 and the results were fail.  I’m still ready for love and all, but I’m going to have to think of a new plan. Gigantic Internet Dating exposé to be posted at some point in the murky future.

-I called a gay man out (nicely) online for using the word “tranny.”  I think it’s a hateful word and I don’t approve of its use outside (and barely inside) of the trans community.  Gigantic The State of GLB vs. T Relations expose to be posted n days after the gigantic Internet dating exposé in the murky future.

-At work, we participated in…Operation Hott Eagle?  No.  …Operation Event Horizon?  Mmm, no.  I don’t know…Operation Enduring Lunch Hour/Hott Lunch 2009 or something…today and it was a great success.  Good job America!

K, that was a little more than I thought.  If you’re worried about Thursday, maybe this will help…

Me three!

I was hiding in my office…

am I done yet?…ugh…i hate how i look…i’m going to stay in here all day…i’m miserable…i look like hell…my hair is stupid…i chose incorrectly this morning…is it too late to set the building on fire?…what about an artist’s commune?…why me?…i hope no one comes up here…double ugh…why doesn’t anyone come up here?…i feel like hell…i am in hell…music isn’t helping…annihilatrix…la la la…there’s a cocteau twins festival?…is it wrong that i’m not hungry by now?…just wait until everyone leaves…i hate coding…why isn’t there a picture of the singles box set bonus disc?…fucking fuck…has anyone done any performance art with a jet engine and raw meat?…i should do performance art…i’m going to cross stitch the hell out of something tomorrow…i wish i had something to blog…

Your attention please.  This is an emergency.  Proceed immediately to the nearest assembly area and await further instructions.

omg, really?…hello today’s worst nightmare…fucking motherfucking fuck fuck

So yeah, I was feeling like hell-slathered dogshit doughnuts dipped in a lovely batter of misery and woe with a pinch of human suffering sprinkles and they had to pick today to have a building evacuation.  I made awkward small talk with my coworkers for oh, about 45 eternities while we waited for the alarm to be cleared.

You know what though?  Compared to the rest of the world, work feels comfortable.  Like, I can mess up and look horrid and people are still going to talk to me.  I hate to, all-of-a-sudden, find a bright spot in these last two dreadful days, but there it is.  So far, this is a safe place and it’s really nice to be myself here.  But I’m not  joking about the raw meat/ jet engine performance art.  That’ll show those stuffed shirts!

Anyway, feel like hell, not going into the details, but I need to do something about it.  I think I’ll clean up the house a little before and after electrolysis (have I told you about how I’m sick of that?) then go crazy nuts on some art makin’ and playing outside for the rest of the weekend.  Suck it, ennui!

Oh, and per my recent, hilarious rant about untitled songs…

“The reason for not giving any tracknames is a different one; tracknames are labels for they reduce a piece of music and lyric to a small useful word. Along with the word comes the imagination to the listener. This is easy to remark in looking at the catchy titles of many songs. Once the title is there it diverts the imagination of the listener and thus deprives him from letting his mind flow around the music and get his own – uninfluenced – impressions.”

“Tracknames are labels and therefore they diminish the experience of the listener and support their tendency for consumption”

I think both of these are from Albin Julius (co-founder of both TMLHBAC and Der Blutharsch).  Ugh, whatever, Albin…if that’s your real name.  I can respect his opinion on the matter and I sort of see his point, but how much fun is that?  I like peppering my blog with knee-jerk, poorly-reasoned diatribes that keep a good distance away from “truth” and “fact.”

Then again, I don’t agree that track names unduly influence a listener.  Unless the song is called, “This is a song about that time that I fell in love and my dog died and I was really sad”, I think there is still a lot of room for listener interpretation.  I guess he’s pretty serious about not naming his songs though, sorry y’all.

This is the kind of thing I’ll write on the Twitter account that I’ll never, ever start.

In the Thin Lizzy song, Jailbreak, Phil Lynott opines…

Tonight there’s gonna be a jailbreak,
Somewhere in this town

I’ll wager that “somewhere” is coincident with the town’s jail.

Fact:  Henry Rollins loves Thin Lizzy.

Tagged: Henry Rollins, Jailbreak, Phil Lynott, Thin Lizzy, twitter ]]> http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/06/08/be-more-like-henry-rollins/feed/ 0 annahell http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/06/08/hello-rock-bands/ http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/06/08/hello-rock-bands/#comments Mon, 08 Jun 2009 18:40:27 +0000 annahell http://annahell.wordpress.com/?p=521 ]]>

Mood:	Mellow gold
Music:	Leviathan-Untitled

Hello rock bands,

I’m a long-time listener/first-time writer and I have a favor to ask.  Would you please stop entitling your songs Untitled? It makes it really hard to share your music with other people and, is it really that hard to name a song?  Here’s a conversation I just imagined….

Her: What are you doing?

Me: Listening to music and bloggin’.

Her:  Oh yeah?  What are you listening to?

Me: Untitled by Leviathan.

Her: Oh, on Intolerance?  But aren’t they all named Untitled?

Me: I KNOW!

Her:  Ugh, I hate it when bands do that.

See what I mean, rock bands?  Don’t be like Leviathan, Der Blutharsch, The Moon Lay Hidden Beneath a Cloud, et al.–it just makes people mad.  If you’re stuck, I’ll write one for you.  If you doubt my naming abilities, check this out…

Blue Confusion #2

Penguin Romance

Hungry for Orange.

Yes, I just created those song names, for you. You may use them if you like.

So, just call or send me an email whenever you get stuck and we’ll work it out, together.  You’ll see.

Love,

Anna

Tagged: bloggin', Blue Confusion #2, Der Blutharsch, Hungry for Orange, Intolerance, Leviathan, Penguin Romance, rock bands, song titles, The Moon Lay Hidden Beneath a Cloud, together, Untitled, we'll work it out ]]> http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/06/08/hello-rock-bands/feed/ 1 annahell http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/06/03/its-raining-raindrops-of-water/ http://annahell.wordpress.com/2009/06/03/its-raining-raindrops-of-water/#comments Wed, 03 Jun 2009 16:56:31 +0000 annahell http://annahell.wordpress.com/?p=512 ]]>

Mood:	Lookin’ for trouble
Music:	Julianna Hatfield-The Fact Remains

It took me a few listens to get into it, but I really like Juliana Hatfield’s new album, How to Walk Away.  I’m loathe to keep up with a band for sentimental reasons and I stop supporting them if they lose touch with what made them great (I’m looking at you Weezer, watch it).  It’s not that I want a band to keep playing in the same style and eschew maturity, but I think some bands have handled the transition better than others (contrast The Replacements descent into mind-numbing, radio-friendly, unit-shifting, AOR, dreck with Superchunk’s blossoming into a skilled, smart, adult rock band).

You can prolly guess how I feel about reunion/revival tours tours.  If your band hasn’t put out anything in the last 10 years and you’re getting back together for one last grab for cash, then I say good day to you. There are a very few exceptions (The Smiths, Cocteau Twins) but I skip most of these shows.

Which brings me back to my point–I continue to support Juliana Hatfield because she’s still got it.  But it’s also really nice that she’s been able to stay with me all of these years.  Listening to Juliana Hatfield reminds me of my friend Shari every time.  Shari had like, three tapes in her car and Become What You Are was my favorite.

We spent a lot of time driving around (in various states of sobriety) in Shari’s held-together-with-love-and-bubble-gum-car, “Lucky”  listening to those songs.  Shari died a couple of years ago from a freak blood clot in her leg and I was a wreck for days after I heard.  She was so young (we’re the same age) and left a husband and two small girls.  I believe there are people in this world that deserve more time than others and Shari was definitely one of them.  So, listening to Juliana Hatfield still brings up fond memories, but they’re a shade or two more blue these days.

Yeesh, I didn’t mean to get all morose, but it’s been a cold and rainy kind of last two days.  We had a summer like this in 2004 and I was taking a summer class (Probability and Statistics) with my friend, Scott.  After like, a solid week of rain (which is practically unheard of here), we’d had enough and were getting punchy.  We speculated what it would be like if we lived in a more rainy locale, like Seattle or Portland.

Scott:  Oh, it would be terrible.  I’d get suicidal after a while.

Anna:  Yeah, I’d be way more into the occult.

And it’s true, sort of…except for the part about the suicide and the occult.  I like that we have a lot of sunshine here and it makes me feel good.  Who knows what kind of shenanigans I’d be getting up to if it was dark and rainy most of the time?  I bet my art would be better.

Finally, I bought this color of nail polish…

…and I’m wearing it today.  I love it.  It’s called “Star of the Party” and it’s more of an electric violet than the picture lets on.  I generally prefer darker colors (shocking, right?) but it’s nice to have something lighter for the summer that’s fun, yet still somewhat professional.

Ok, I had to post this because it frightens me every time I see it…

It’s an advertisement that seems to be on my last.fm page like every day and I won’t stand for it any longer.  Like most people, I worry a lot about waking up with horribly crooked, yellow, candy-shaped teeth, black lips, and too-pink gums…also, hockey puck accidents. Apparently, this website knows all about my fears and is trying to recruit me into a cabal of single moms who all posses the lost secrets of home cosmetic dentistry, yet, somehow failed to avoid the drudgery of single parenthood.

Well, no thank-you! Maybe this will be like aversion therapy or something…like, posting it robs it of its evil powers or it’ll allow me to make peace with the horror.  One can only hope.

I know times are tough and all, but is that the classiest advertising revenue you can muster, last.fm?  Really?  I think you can do better.

I’m still a little bit sad (and mad for some reason), but don’t worry, it’s going to be alright.  As proof of my intentions, I offer you the following pretty pictures.

So, this isn’t an art blog or a suitable replacement for ffffound or KN or pick your own art/design/lifestyle website.  But I’ve learned the hard way that if you see something you like, it’s easier to grab it and document it at the time.  If you wait, it’s unlikely you’ll find it again.   The other reason I do it is because I like art and it’s a good way to share my aesthetic, which is a major part of my personality.  And so…

Her name is Evelin Kasikov and here is her website.  Her art combines typography and textiles and I’d totally like to copy it for one of my projects.

The next two are by Will Bryant for the Kitsune Noir Desktop Wallpaper project.

The next two are by Cody Hoyt.

Finally, Are Mokkelbost from his set on booooooom.

I know I feel better.

I’m having one of those Friday nights. Oh, who am I kidding? This is my stock Friday night. Leave work late, eat dinner, do nothing, try not to think about it too much, then call it a night until electrolysis tomorrow. And I hate it. The house is too quiet, my thoughts are too loud, and I keep listening to the same four songs.

What Took You So Long by Rock*A*Teens

So Much Hate by East River Pipe

You’re a Bigger Jerk Than Me by The Karl Hendricks Rock Band

Up With People (live) by Lambchop

No, they’re not happy songs, but they’re not depressing either…more somber and introspective…like me, tonight.  So, is there any problem Up With People can’t solve?  Is there a whiskey-soaked, 2 AM insight that that song can’t provide, every time?  I don’t believe there is.  Every time that song comes on, it’s a light breeze on a summer’s nap, slow motion Roman candles, that second drink, and floating on your back in the lake after a sauna, staring at the stars.   Up With People will bail you out of jail, any time, no questions asked.

You’re going to have to excuse this next part.  I’m not feeling that great.

So, people are bullshit.  If you’re able to glean one lesson from what I write, let it be this:  you’re going to die someday and you will die alone.  You can arrange a lifetime’s worth of friends and family around your soon-to-be-lifeless corpse, but nothing can change the fact that you’re going to take those last few steps alone.  So, you might as well make a peace with solitude.  I have.  I don’t like it but I don’t have any other choice right now.  I’m letters away from an unhinged, nightmare epic of self-pity and recrimination, so let’s just say that I feel like I’ve been trying to truly connect with people and, so far, it doesn’t seem to be working.  I’m still hopeful that it’ll work out and that I’ll find my niche, but what do I do until then?

And that was my Friday.  How was yours?

I have the under-the-weathers today, so I’m at home…hating it.  I’ll prolly be fine for tomorrow, but I think my rock and roll lifestyle is finally starting to catch up with me.  I’m still tired a lot and I still haven’t figured out how to balance taking care of myself with getting things done.  Right now, getting things done is winning by the slimmest of margins.

Oh sure, I could try the old, get plenty of sleep, eat right, and exercise routine, but come on people.  This is the year 2008 or something and I live in the United States of the Awesomericas!  Isn’t it high time we harnessed the power of pharmaceuticals or microchip technology or swine flu to maximize our personal productivity power…processes?!  Sorry, that was the fever talking.  I’m going to get more sleep and exercise, promise.

Here’s the fastest music lesson ever…The Spinanes, seriously…do it!

So yeah, I’m kind of ground-down and stretched to my breaking point, so I thought, “why not try Internet dating?”  I know, I’m as excited a you are.  Here is one of the brilliant ads I unleashed upon the world yesterday…

So, I have a problem.  I’m a pre-op, transsexual woman who would like to meet a nice, funny, intelligent, somewhat attractive, geek/punk/hipster/art-fag/nrrd, sane, employed guy who’s taller than me, around my age (+/- 10 years), not a cannibal or zombie, and who isn’t afraid to date a girl like me and this is the best idea I could come up with.  I know, right?  So doomed.

Still though, I’m an insufferable optimist (and stranger things have happened) so I’ve got to give this a try.  The website told me I had to tell you about myself (and used red letters, so it’s like, important), so…

1. The Hobbies – I like to do lots of things, but I’d be hard-pressed to call any of them “hobbies.”  I like to cook, hike, camp, make pretty pictures, bake, try making music, blog, ride my bike, take pictures, make movies, try new foods, go to shows, go to museums, shop for records (and shoes and clothes), and I think you get the point.  I don’t play Dungeons and Dragons, participate in Civil War reenactments, or ballroom dance with my cat…not that there’s anything wrong with that.

2. Goals! – These are all going to sound boring, but whatevs.  I plan to go back to school in the next year or so to finish my MSEE.  I’d like to do a lot more traveling everywhere, all the time.  I want to be better at my job and make lots more money.  I want to meet someone, settle down, and create a family with them, eventually. I want to have a fun summer, participate more in the arts community, keep losing weight, try some new restaurants, have sex reassignment surgery, learn how to silkscreen, ride down to that farmer’s market next Saturday, go camping and hiking a lot more, and etc.

3. Why I’m Awesome and Like a Snowflake -  You should have figured it out by now, but I have a lot in common with other people that are awesome   I’m intelligent and have a good sense of humor.  I’m mostly nice, employed, warm, modest (lol), somewhat attractive, a geeky riot grrl, an excellent cook, and not a zombie or cannibal…not that there’s anything wrong with that…oops, sorry, those are horrible.  I live and work full-time as a woman (and am fully accepted as one) and have for some time.  I’m not embarrassed of who I am, but I don’t feel like I need to share everything with the entire world.  I like going out to bars, clubs, shows, and galleries, but staying in to “watch movies” by “Jean Luc Goddard” is also nice.  And I’m fun.

4. Ah! Melody -  I should just send you the link to my last.fm page, but I don’t even know you yet.  Let’s just say I like “different” music and that I’m a music snob.  Meaning, we can’t be together if you have poor taste in music, sorry.  Some of my favorite bands are Sleater-Kinney, Cocteau Twins, Current 93, Motorhead, Pavement, Stereolab, and The Fall.

If you’re kind of like the guy I described and are interested in taking me out on an amazing date, you should send me an email and tell me all about yourself (or point me to your profile somewheres).  If I agree, we’ll email a couple of more times then talk on the phone and meet at some non-sketchy, public place.  Move it along if you want to swap hundreds of emails, can’t spell, won’t talk on the phone, or have no idea what “sketchy” means…and good luck!

Subtle, right?  I don’t see how it can fail or end up in a drunken potluck cry party knife fight quilting bee over international waters.

After putting up the ad, I had a look at the kind of work my future husbands were putting up.  Would it surprise you to learn that the average guy’s ad is not as wordy?  Well, it surprised me to pieces.   In fact, it seems like the average guy’s ad is about four lines long and usually references sports in some way.  I asked Kaylee if I’d gone too far with my ad and she reminded me that they’re guys and that’s how they roll.  I keep forgetting that guys are not at all like me, so thanks Kaylee.  Of course, I’ll be posting all of the excruciating details of my dating failures for your reading pleasure.

In other news, my coolest stepsister Heidi called me out of the blue to talk about Jesus and baby squirrels (see, it runs in the family) and it made me the happy.  Heidi and I were born on the same day, in the same year, in different towns and half of our parents are married to each other.  So it’s got to be some kind of crime if we’re not friends from now on.

He put a version of this on his site, but the way he edited it makes me seem unfunny and incoherent.  So, here’s the real thing, uncut and direct…because I care about you guys…and what you think of me…and that you think I’m more funny than he is…and kittens.

Anna: urgh! big business is playing redacted at the redacted lounge
Andrew: are you gonna tell them to shove their copyright reform up their cramholes?
Anna: no :\
Anna: they’re a good band
Anna: oh, do you mean Big Business?
Andrew: um, let me check slashdot and ars technica real quick
Anna: that wasn’t all supposed to be italicized
Andrew: that was supposed to be a joke
Andrew: i’ve never heard of big business.
Anna: well, it’s hard to tell
Andrew: do they have black brains, skeletons, et. al as well?
Anna: they’re good, came from Karp, part of Murder City Devils, play in Melvins now
Anna: no, but thanks for asking
Anna: they’re just heavy
Anna: i listen to music that isn’t dark you know
Andrew: LOL WUT
Anna: stfu
Anna: for reals
Anna: i’m not so 1 dimensional
Andrew: whatever. go deface some churches.
Anna: don’t you whatever me
Anna: i don’t go in for that sort of thing
Andrew: oh, so you just plant pentagrams then?
Anna: not at all
Anna: i usually volunteer at animal shelters
Andrew: ooohhhh yeah, so when one needs to be put down you can just take it to your ritual
Andrew: smart!
Anna: nice turn around
Anna: but still no
Andrew: this isn’t fun when you just deny stuff
Anna: OH SORRY
Anna:
Anna: k fine, rituals and stuff
Anna: it’s so awesome
Andrew: too late
Anna: this one time, we had four different kinds of animal blood
Anna: it was like a salad bar for satanists
Anna: zing!
Andrew: you mean the blood was dressing for your salad bar
Anna: no, “like” means it was similar to that, but not actually that
Anna: more like a soup
Andrew: ok, i was going to complain again but then you brought it back

In other news, I actually got up early enough to ride the bus!  Goooooo, me!  It was scary, kind of.  The bus isn’t bad, but I ride the light rail to the bus station.  On the train, people sit like three feet in front of your face.  So, there was the nerve-wracking scrutiny, but, again,  I didn’t die or burst into flames.  I still have to take them home, but I think it’s going to be alright.

Oh, and I know I’m kind of doing this in reverse, but you guys should really listen to that Six Organs song and, like meditate.  It’s third eye-opening good.

Maybe I shouldn’t write in the mornings anymore.  Usually, my first instinct is to complain about something that makes me mad or things that are stupid.  But, I’m not really like that in person….honestly.  I could attribute my righteous anger to the fact that I haven’t yet finished my coffee.  Or, maybe it’s because I haven’t yet relaxed from this morning’s getting ready marathon (up at 6:30, didn’t have to play Fashion Show, hour-long commute, still five minutes late).  Whatever the reason, ich habe Wut.  To illustrate, today we’ll be using the time-honored bulleted list.

-You have my word that I will never, ever solicit the services of, nor force you to suffer through a “guest blogger.”  This is my house and my journal.  If I don’t feel like putting anything up, I won’t.  I do not feel the need to constantly occupy the empty spaces with words and voices and I take a dim view of those that do (you have the low self-esteem).  Sorry.  See, I told you was ornery.

-I am officially sick of being single.  Officially.  I have no idea what to do about this (dating can be…complicated…even under the best of circumstances), but there it is.  As long as this condition persists, I can promise you there will be some emo-type posts…maybe poetry…possibly some “find your soul-mate” online quizzes.  If you’d rather that didn’t happen, introduce me to some very open-minded guys.

-The secret curse of blogging all the time is that everything becomes blogworthy, bloggable…blogistic?  So, my internal monologue is like, “omg you guys, you’ll never believe what this guy said to me in line at the grocery store” all.the.time.  Let’s all take a moment to thank whomever you wish that I edit myself.  For instance, sometimes I use the restroom for purposes other than washing my hands.  Write some intardnet fan fic about that one! So, if something odd slips past, sorry.  I can’t help it.

-Healthy Choice frozen entree directions are TLDR and TCDF (too complicated, didn’t follow).  To wit,

Ok, here are some observations:

1.  So, I need to be making the film cover into an arts and crafts project what with all the selective cutting and slitting?  No.

2. I don’t even know how to set our microwave at work for whatever time I want (don’t ask, it’s weird).  So the best I can manage is POTATO which is like 2:45.  And to this day, the Wattage rating of any microwave continues to hold almost no interest for me.

3. I don’t have time to be letting my food stand for any minutes, let alone two.  Food is entirely too lazy and should not be encouraged.

4. Federal regulations prohibit the bringing of food thermometers and medieval swords to work, so I’m going to take my chances that the Microwave of Infinite Mystery did not let me down. Also, isn’t the food supposed to have been cooked already?

So, seriously you guys?  Other than those minor complaints, I like the meals.

Wow, maybe I should have broken this post into a number of economy fun packs?

I figured it’s been long enough since you read about my feelings, so a little recap is in order.  The short version (but we all know you come here for the long stuff) is that everything is still going well.  I had some first day jitters again on Monday, but the rest of the week was much better.

Wednesday, I had two meetings, which was a first since I’ve been back.  The first meeting was for an awards committee I volunteered for.  The committee was made up of people from outside my division.  Three of them were from other divisions and the last was from one of the other organizations here on campus.  So, the people from the other divisions had presumably been to the meeting and heard all about me.  The guy from the other organization had no idea, so it was an interesting experience.  And there were only five of us, so I had to like, speak up and offer my opinions about who I thought should get this award. Later that day, I had my semi-weekly editorial review board meeting.  And that went well too.  On Friday, my boss came up to my office to check in on me and make awkward small talk.  He’s funny.  He always shuts the door so as to maximize privacy, but our walls are so thin, my neighbor can actually hear my hair growing.  So he’s not turning my office into a cone of silence, but I appreciate his discretion.

Outside of work…I still feel uncomfortable a lot of the time.  It’s like I need to try harder because I don’t know the outside people.  I still get out and run errands, but it’s nowhere near as easy as it was, say two years ago.  That’s getting better too, but I’d like to move on already.

I was still really tired during the day for most of the week.  I’m still thinking this is due to the stress of always being “on” and the low-level worry that goes with it.  My sister made a good point the other day when she said that the exhaustion could be a way for my body to reset itself from months of soul-crushing stress and worry.  I was able to get through Friday without violently falling asleep at my desk, but it was hard to stay up much later than The McLaughlin Group (omg I love that show).  So, I’m going to try and listen to what my body is yelling at me and take it easy for the next n days.

So far I’ve managed to get to work (but not on time), feed myself, and run a very few errands whilst looking presentable, but that’s it.  The house was a total sty by the end of the week, I still have about 132 more errands to run, and I couldn’t figure out a way or find the energy to exercise at all.  I’m still driving to work as getting it together enough to take the bus still seems, mathematically speaking, like a nontrivial problem.  So that’s the goal for the weeks to come…try to figure out how to manage the rest of my life without having to dump everything on Saturday.  My electrologist suggested that I should try to do one small thing (like vacuum) per night during the week after work.  I’m going to try doing that.  It actually upsets me when I let the house go and it usually means something is broken in my life.

So yeah, no more dumping on Saturdays.  I have electrolysis most every Saturday morning and, up until now, I had been playing Miss Mopeypantsfeelsorryforherselfallday, because, you know electrolysis is awful.  But that has kind of lost its luster of late.  The weather is getting to be the awesome and I’m looking less and less like a hamburger-faced freak afterwards, so maybe I should just buy myself an apology doughnut on Saturdays and get on with the rest of my life.  I have a four day weekend (neener, neener) this week and I’m going to try and have a good time with it.

In other news,

I’ve had one of these for a few years now.

What a gyp! Mine didn't come with those orange lines or dimensions.

My ex bought it for me for my birthday in 2005.  Since then, we’ve had a lot of laughs, sang songs, shed some tears, survived a few drops on the floor, and endured four trips back to to Apple store “genius bar” for replacements.  Well, my replacement program ran out a while ago and I have been patching mine up since then.

Yesterday, it stopped holding a charge.  I know there are batteries for sale and I could easily replace them, but…I don’t want to really.  The hard drive had been sketchy for a long time (seems like a design issue) and I kind of want something new.  I don’t really have the money, but I use my iPod every single day for hours and hours.  Without it, my life is meaningless.  MEANINGLESS!!!!  K, not really, but it’s important to my well-being.  Also, my stupid, nice Shure headphones that cost the hundred dollars are messed up…like only one ear is working.  So, in conclusion, my sweet personal urban sound system is broken and needs to be upgraded.  Would you like to buy me a new one?

I wanted to post something, but I’m kind of out of the ideas.   I have this really great post planned on why Healthy Choice frozen dinners bother me, but I need a picture for that…stay tuned!  Sorry, don’t get upset.  You can’t force magic.  It has to grow on its own through mitosis or whatever.

Today, I want to talk about how I’m really disappointed in all of you and why I feel this way.  In short, y’all aren’t writing enough in your blogs.  I subscribe to like 238 blogs through Google Reader and some days, it just doesn’t seem like enough.  If I get to work early, I like to spend my time reading blogs and news.  If it’s a good day, there will be posts from 4 fashion blogs, 5 trans blogs, 3 art blogs, 1 from people I know blogs, and maybe 2 from funny blogs (one of which should be lolcats).  And, to be honest, you’re not meeting your quotas.  Consider this a verbal warning.  There may be disciplinary action if your productivity does not increase.

And in case work is getting you down…

Stupid desk! By overturning you, I reject my station within the numbed proletariat and join the swelling chorus of the bearded bohemian! Woe be to you and those that you serve, office furniture.

Also,

If only the zombie apocalypse were so lovingly illustrated. Unfortunately, I think it's going to be a lot more messy.

That guy came up with this idea and I made it happen.  This is some of the sort of stuff we think is funny.  Click this link if you dare.

http://tinyurl.com/qjnjru

As you have seen, a clickable URL is also win.  Also, texting happy faces when you’re video chatting is frigging awesome.

I don’t care what you say.  We’ve Only Just Begun by Carpenters is a fucking great song…and you can tell I mean what I say because I used a curse word.

So, I’m not going to do a ridiculously long post today because I have to, like, work and stuff today…and tomorrow…and kind of from now on.  Don’t worry, we can still be friends, but it’ll be closer to a hi/bye thing than bailing you out of jail relationship.  Sorry.

So, I have two pictures for you.  The first is by a photographer I just saw on ARTISTADAY.  Her name is Alex Prager and her photos are really good.  And that’s saying a lot. See, I have…feelings…about photography and where it fits into Fine Art.  I’m not going to go into it here, but let’s say I hold photography to a much higher standard.  So yeah, she’s awesome, go to her site and look at all of her photos.  I love the washed out and super-saturated Southern California desperation in them.

HELEN by Alex Prager

In other news, one time I made fun of this guy for a particularly horrible dinner bowl he concocted one night.  Turns out, I am way worse at playing dinner sometimes…

Shut up, I know.

So…God, how can I explain this?  You’re looking at a plate of baked beans, two grilled chicken thighs, and a piece of day-old frozen pizza with some spaghetti sauce on top.  I feel dirty and embarrassed. Um, I was really tired (and, apparently, mentally ill) when I got home and had that chicken and the piece of pizza and I thought, “why not baked beans?”    And yes, I ate it.  Believe it or not, I’m actually a good cook and know what I should be eating for dinner.  That chicken is actually for a lovely black bean stir fry that I’m going to make…Thursday?  Amway, consider this my apology.

In other, other news…I’m still doing well.  I got my new driver’s license and Social Security card yesterday, so I can finally get a new library card…which was the actual point of this whole exercise.  MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

I think this will be the last one of these. I prolly have enough for two more, but I grow weary of this and you get the point. Whilst poring over all of these album covers, you may have noticed some trends in the art direction. So, because I care about you and the new metal band you’re going to start any day now, I’ve compiled a list of do’s and dont’s to consider when designing your band’s metal brand. To wit:

-DO use a darker color palette…bonus points for black and gray.

-DON’T feature any cute animals (teddy bears, unicorns, kittens), unless they are being sacrificed or are engaged in epic battle with barbarians of some sort…or sorcerers…or maybe each other.

-DO include scenes from nature (like trees, forests, fjords, snow-capped glaciers, or mountains…bonus points for mist or fog), occult symbols, medieval woodcuts, or grainy photos from Word War II.

-DON’T use photos from your last vacation, dorm room, or MySpace profile…unless they’re totally metal.

-DO wear the appropriate costume for the photo shoot. Fur or leather loincloths, Renaissance Fair outfits, any spiked wrist guards, corpse paint, mud, blood, chain or plate mail, helmets, and weapons (swords, knives, maces, bludgeons, battle axes, etc.) are acceptable options.

-DON’T wear evening gowns, footy pajamas, clown makeup (seriously), or animal mascot costumes.

-DO design a band logo that is completely illegible and includes an upside down cross or other totally brutal graphic element.

-DON’T ask your Mom for help with your band’s logo. Chances are, her finger is far from the pulse of what is going on in metal today.

and finally…

-DO have fun with it!

To the pictures!

So, as I posted yesterday, I had my first day back and it went really well.  Oh, you want some detail and amusing anecdotes?  Fine, but I feel like I should say…you’re very needy and a little bit too interested in my personal life.  Maybe we should talk about that some time.  Not in an intervention-y sort of way, just an earnest, “I’m here for you honey, do you want to talk about it” over coffee kind of thing.

Amway, I got up earlier than usual to get ready.  I wanted to have enough time to do my makeup and get dressed without feeling the rush stress.  I had picked out what I was going to wear the night before (which is like the best thing ever and something I’m going to try to do henceforth) and it was an excellent choice if I do say so myself…knee-length khaki pencil skirt, short sleeved red crinkly blouse with white polka dots, a black long-sleeve crewneck cardigan, and black leather flats.  I thought it looked nice and it seemed to be professional, kind of cute, and def’ly not embarassing.  Sometime around when I was doing my makeup, I started feeling the nervous.  After the 1100th time looking in the mirror to make sure I looked ok, I said goodbye to the cat and got in the car.

The drive to work was long, but kind of fun…I did a lot of singing in traffic to take my mind off of the morning.  I got to work about 20 minutes late (I know, don’t.even.say.it.) and sat in the parking lot for a few minutes.  I was already late so I didn’t want to waste a bunch of time on second-guessing and reconsidering.  Like I said, I’d kind of done most of the worrying already.  I was still nervous about walking in the door, but I wasn’t not going to walk in, you know?  So I did.  And there were a bunch of people in the hall holding up a big sign.  I thought, “oh noes, they’ve been waiting for me with a big stupid ‘welcome back’ sign and now they’re going to be so mad.”  Turns out, they were hanging signs and stuff for the big boss that was coming later in the afternoon.  Still, no one said anything…which was fine becuase I prolly would have thrown up right on them and that stupid tie they were wearing.  I hate that tie.  Why do guys think ties with cartoon animals on them are appropriate to wear out side of their own closet?

So, I got into my office without passing out and locked the door.  I had to take a moment to steady myself and put away my things.  Within ten minutes, my boss was knocking at the door to check in on me (which was really sweet and he’s been so awesome throughout this whole thing).  He asked if I was nervous (check) and told me not to be.  After that, I opened my door “for business” and started looking at my to-do list.  My computer login had changed to my new name (cool) but there was some kind of problem with the emails.

The email problem is still ongoing even though I spent most of the day with an IT guy sitting in my chair (don’t be nasty, I sat in the other chair).  And that was kind of cool.  Right from the start he told me that he admired my courage and thought the meeting went well.  And it was nice because I had to deal with him and other people the entire rest of the day.  I’m sure I would have wanted to hide out, but I was kind of forced to put myself out there.

I waitied a long time to use the restroom.  I don’t think I’ve discussed it much, but, even though I’ve been mostly living this way full time for a couple of months, I’ve avoided using the bathroom to a ridiculous degree.  And I can’t explain it.  I think I look alright and I certainly belong in the women’s restroom (or much moreso than in the men’s), but…it’s scary.  It’s like I don’t want to offend people or be weird or anything.  So, I waited and finally went when I absolutely could not hold it any longer.  And like everything else, it turned out to be no big deal.  I’ve been feeling super dried out for whatever reason, so I was drinking loads of water and had to pee a lot yesterday.  So, I feel better about it, but it’s still a little bit nerver-wracking.  I think I’ll feel better after when I actually see someone I know in there.  If you’re keeping score at home, the restrooms are much nicer.  I’m not going to give away all of our secrets, but there’s a couch and magazines.  The men’s room has…well, not magazines, that’s for sure.

I grow weary of this exercise, so I’m going cut to the expedient bulleted list method of exposition…

-It sounds cliche, but the security guy I got my new badge from thought I was trying to play a joke on him when I handed him my old badge.  I assured him I was not and he continued to be nice and friendly.

-I went out to lunch and got”ma’am’ed” all over the place.

-It seems like a lot of people were out of the office or incredibly busy yesterday.  So not everybody got to see me.

-I must have spent a total of two hours in 1 minute intervals worrying about how I look.  And that wasn’t fun because it was more of a worried rather than vain thing.

-I work with a lot of guys and none of them thought to comment on how I looked.  My one girl friend said something nice, but that was it.  That doesn’t really bother me, because I kind of know how guys are.  Either they were too afraid or didn’t think of it.  Regardless, it would have been nice to hear something like that from one of them.  I swear I will not file a sexual harrassment lawsuit for the occasional, “you look nice today.”

-The boss guy gave a speech for everyone on campus at the end of the day, but I was so tired that I barely heard anything he said.  Yesterday was exhausting, really.  That’s one thing they don’t tell you in the brochure.  I think it’ll get better, but I’m still pretty tired today.

-I gave a guy friend at work my blog’s address (hey you) and that is weird.  Ok, it’s weird having everyone know my biggest secret eva, but it’s weird to also have someone know my motivations and be a party to my every internet thought.  Still though, he seems like a good sort and it feels good to just be honest for reals.  I might give it to another person.

-I didn’t get a card or any flowers.  I was kind of upset about that but I kind of understand…I wasn’t in the hospital and I didn’t experience a death, or have a baby.  And everyone was really busy yesterday, so whatevs.

-A lot of times yesterday, I caught myself wanting to edit something I was going to say or do.  Like, I still had to hide or didn’t want my neighbor to hear me.  I was able to talk myself out of it, but I’ve been doing it for so long.

-I spoke to a couple of people out in the hall while they were waiting for the grande queso.  This one guy, who I like a lot and respect, told me how he was really proud of me and how courageous he thought I was.  I thanked him but told him that I didn’t feel all that courageous.  I think that’s what a lot of people don’t understand…it’s either do this or be doomed.  So, it didn’t seem like much of a choice to me.  Regardless, it was really sweet of him to say that and be so supportive.  He’s someone I’d like to get to know better.

-The day ended better than it began.  I drove home and talked to Becca then Kaylee before bed.  I was really tired but I had so much fun talking to both of them (we lol’d, hard).  That was the perfect way to end the day, thanks you guys.

…I did it!   I’m really, really tired right now, but I just wanted to say that everything went well at work today.  Everyone I spoke to was really nice and supportive and it was just…kind of easy, you know?  I didn’t die or explode or get committed to an insane asylum.  Actually, it was kind of anticlimactic.  But I’ll take that over being humiliated and stabbed in the neck any day.  I’ll write more about the day later, but I’m going to go to bed early.  You can go to sleep too little cats.  You’ve done your job.

So, they had that meeting yesterday…the one where they were talking about me and sharing my most intimate, secret secrets with everyone I work with like it was no big deal.  I’m sure people were asking questions about me and discussing me and thinking things and wondering and moving me from one box to another and on and on.  I had a mini-freakout at the start of the meeting, but that quickly passed.

Afterward, I got wonderful emails from a few people and they all said that the meeting went well.  Everyone seemed to be receptive and taking the news well.  Ok, I’m not sure if this happens a lot, but I guess most people were kind of pissed at how the meeting announcement was handled…like they were going to announce massive layoffs or something.  I’ve heard a couple of versions of this story from other trans-women.  So, I’m not sure how they should be announcing this sort of thing, but maybe they should include a disclaimer like, “oh and btw, no one is getting fired…except for you Larry, you’re horrible.”  So yeah, so far so good, right?  I am a little bit nervous about tomorrow, but I’m kind of all worried out.  Besides, everyone already knows, so there isn’t much more to worry about.

I guess I’m only worried about looking nice and what I’m going to wear.  And I don’t mean that in like a oh pooh, whateva shall I wear to the ball kind of worry.  Turns out, the big big, numero uno boss boss-type boss person is flying out from the mother ship and visiting us tomorrow.  So, now I have to pick something that looks nice, is business-casual, and won’t embarass me or my coworkers in front of the boss.  I was just going to wear jeans or something .

In other news, I got quite a bit done yesterday.  I got my new driver’s license and Social Security card and did some shopping.  I was pretty nervous at the first stop, but I felt a lot better by the end of it.  Today, I think I’ll go for a bike ride then do some more shopping and get ready for tomorrow.  That’s it I guess.  I’m doing well and I feel like this might actually work out.

Well y’all,

I’m just about to leave for the day.  Let’s check in with that to-do list…

1. Write a quick note to the few people I kind of like and let them know what is going on with me and why they’re having this weird meeting on Monday.

Did it, all three of them were awesome.  If anything, this is a great reminder of how cool people can be.

2. Print out some lolcats and art pictures and put them up near my door.  I have a few pictures up now, but I thought I’d increase the visual interest at my office home if the entire institute is going to be walking by my door next week.

Lord knows I tried, but I could not engineer a way to print in color.

3. Pick up my office and clean the desk.

Take that dirt!

4. Maybe do some work.

Does reading three paragraphs count?

5. Freak out some more.

Done and done.

6. Go for a run in the rain at lunch.

TCDR (Too Cold, Didn’t Run)

7. Post another 3(?) blogs.

Who’s the boss of this blog?

8. Go home early.

But it’s alright.

So hey, that’s one, two, three, four items!  I gets the win.

Oh wow, I just remembered this when I was typing the title. We have a local television station which used to be known as Channel 2. For a few weeks now, they’ve been referring to themselves as The Deuce with nary a trace of irony nor twittering laughter. I think it’s hilarious. I never watched the channel much (it’s the WB affiliate), but I’m sure as fuck not going to start watching now that they’ve made the change. It’s kind of funny and reminds me of how Jason Bateman always said “ESPN 8–The Ocho” in Dodgeball (which was one of a very few funny moments in that movie, imo). Then again, it reminds me of a bunch of douchebag frat boys high-fiving each other in the locker room after winning the big sporting contest event against Delta House. No offense to douchebags or frat boys, it’s just not ma steez. So, thanks for trying Channel 2, but I think you should keep trying.

Sorry, part 2, continued from here…