Thursday, July 27, 2006 Nice Dream...*

Nice Dream...*

"Throughout hundreds of years of history, what the skull has communicated is, 'I am dangerous.' that's where the irony is. You can buy dangerous for $11.99 at Kmart."
Thursday, July 26th NYT Style Section

I wrote a while back about The Preppie Pirate and how distraught I was that the zeitgeist of my generation was being appropriated by stockbrokers, college students, and mallrat teens who hang out at Hot Topic. Imagine my ire as I opened the New York Times this morning to find an article about the 'mainstreaming of the tete de mort' on the front page of the Thursday Styles section.

I am disconsolate.

*Song by Radiohead

Wednesday, July 26, 2006 Date With Ikea...*

Date With Ikea...*

I hate IKEA.

I have spent at least three hours in IKEA this week, which is two hours and twenty-nine minutes too much.

I have eaten dinner at Ikea three nights in a row. After three consecutive evening meals consisting of Swedish delights (of descending nutritional value) I feel sluggish, as if I have Swedish Fish swimming through my veins.

I have bought and returned GRUNDTAL. I have struggled to help install the STODIS/SPANIS combo. I have surrendered to the unsightly steel of the KIRP. I have met the IKEA employee's amiability with malevolence. I have reconciled myself to hanging towels on rusty nails.

I surrender.

*Song by Pavement

Thursday, July 20, 2006 Life In A Glass House...*

Life In A Glass House...*

I don't have anything witty or profound to say so this post is just some of my inner ramblings.

Humidity and shampoo
If you have more than a foot of hair that naturally leans towards "full of body" (aka puffy), do not use volumizing shampoo on days of 95 degree temperatures with over 50% humidity. I appear to be a walking piece of shrubbery today thanks to that shower mistake. You will look like a pom-pom ready for the dog show.

If you have agoraphobia, you should plan to take a vacation OUTSIDE of Atlanta during the three-day 200,000 people event known as Megafest. This religious celebration brings oceans of people into the city and can leave the agoraphobic in need of tranquilizers and booze.

I think 'viral marketing' companies could benefit from doing some demographics research rather than their current shotgun approach, showering everyone with the same advertisements and hoping to hit their target. Today's choice pieces of spam that have eluded the company's spam filter include the following.
1. Abdul - (Like Madonna, Abdul is apparently known by one name only.) "Note the science doorway with billions of tadpoles". What does this mean? What idea or product is Abdul selling? This is a very ineffective morsel of electronic junk mail.
2. Four messages offering reduced price Viagra - I am a (fairly young) female. Why would I want to buy Viagra? Perhaps, they are advertising it early as a great Christmas or Hanukkah gift for your special grandfather or sugar daddy?
3. Ticketmaster - Oooo, pre-sale tickets for Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers. I have purchased LOTS of tickets from Ticketmaster over the years. Most of the tickets I have purchased have been for the ballet, the opera, or marginally popular indie-rock bands. Based on my buying patterns, I would not be a prime buyer of Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers tickets.

I'm sure when I was a marketing shill I made similar demographic bad judgments and now I am facing my karma.

By the way, for those of you who read my constantly changing sidebar I will never finish "Infinite Jest" or "Tropic of Cancer".

*Song by Radiohead

Monday, July 17, 2006 A Swim in Racoon Creek...*

A Swim in Racoon Creek...*

Wall decor in a South Carolina gas station...just too weird not to post.
*Song by Brian Henke

Friday, July 14, 2006 Medication...*


To quote Isaac Brock, "We're all doctors trading sadness for numbness".

Today I went to see my physician, who is a bit reminiscent of Dr. Nick from the Simpsons. I am forced to continue seeing this doctor of questionable credentials because of my need for medication and his willingness to prescribe whatever I ask for. I'm not a drug addict popping Percocet like Sweet Tarts. I simply have a small serotonin deficiency that only medication can correct. My doctor also owns a medical spa that is next to his primary care practice. Here is a short transcript of my appointment.
Dr. Nick: Anomie, my favorite patient!
Anomie: Hi Dr. Nick! How is your daughter?
Dr. Nick: Ah, she is well....(blah, blah, blah). So what brings you here today?
Anomie: Your office called me and told me to come in as a follow up to the nasty bout of Legionnaires Disease I had last month.
Dr. Nick: (Flipping through chart) Ah, yes....So you are well?
Anomie: I feel great.
Dr. Nick: Do you need any other prescriptions? You want six month supply of Prozac? Your skin looks great, more Retin-A?
Anomie: Sure, that would be great. I'm a bit worried about this freckle on my arm that has appeared. It is large and asymmetrical, do you think I should see a dermatologist?
Dr. Nick: No, it looks fine! Did you want to schedule another laser hair removal appointment next door while you're here. I can do it now. (Note: There is an entire family of eight in the waiting room.)
Anomie: Uhhh...I think you may be a little busy, there are a lot of people in the waiting room.
Dr. Nick: (Pshaw sound) Medicare. I make time for you.
Anomie: You know I feel pretty hairless, maybe next time.
Dr. Nick: Come back and see me soon yeah?
Anomie: Of course. Take care.

I need to find another doctor.

*Song by Modest Mouse

Wednesday, July 12, 2006 Possibilities of Summer...*

Possibilities of Summer...*

Today I emerged from the silence and tranquility of my office to discover what appeared to be thousands of small children cluttering the food court of the building. They were a relatively decorous horde. There was very little pushing, screaming, or ankle biting. But circling back on a subject addressed in a previous post on tourism, why would anyone bring small children on a tour of news facilities on a summer field trip?

Growing up in the middle of Kentucky, our choice of field trip options were unstupifyingly limited.

Childhood Field Trips I Remember:
1. Lincoln's Birthplace - The highlight is the cabin that Abraham Lincoln MAY have been born in protected within a mausoleum-type structure.
2. Fruit of the Loom factory - How treasured was the chance to see t-shirts being made before manufacturing facilities were moved to a sweatshop in Asia.
3. GM Corvette Assembly Plant - The socio-economic future of my classmates was made apparent on this trip. We were evenly divided between those who wished to work at the plant in the future and those who wished to own one of the cars.

I digress, my point is please, please, keep the children away from the office building. For selfish reasons (slight agoraphobia and pedophobia) and more wholesome motivations, I appeal to you to let the kids play outside. It's summer, you're only young once. Let the children frolic, run, and skin their knees. There is plenty of time for these kids to loiter in the food courts (as teens) or be sealed into climate controlled corporate tombs (as adults) later.

*Song by Matt Pond PA (Artwork by Nebo Peklo)

Monday, July 10, 2006 Author...*


Monday mornings are usually a little ummm...challenging. I love my job, so I don't approach Mondays with dread, but with grim determination. Monday is more something to be conquered than a source of enjoyment.

Starbucks delivered to my desk will result in gratitude. The discovery that one of my bosses is on vacation inspires relief. A glance at or a quick perusal of my favorite blogs my coax a giggle from my weekend damaged frame. One thing can make me smile like a fat kid at the all-you-can-eat sundae bar on a Monday morning...The arrival of the scrawny mailman bearing a brown cardboard box from Amazon will make a smile break across my face. I will rip open the box like a starving coyote to hold my newly arrived treasures. Today's new arrivals are: "The Subject Steve" by Sam Lipsyte; "Cooking With Fernet Branca" by James Hamilton-Patterson; and "Loving, Living, Party Going" by Henry Green.

Although I have enough unread books to keep myself amused for at least three months. I stick to the a Mormon table of four plan for literature. I keep at least 10 unread fiction tomes, five or more non-fiction, two books of poetry to add a bit of flavor, and at least one how-to book.

You will rarely see me review books here. Even though I love literature and read (0n average) three books a week I am afraid that my poor description of a book may taint another readers opinion or perception of the work under discussion.

If you would like recommendations, please email me directly at

*Song by Shimmerplanet

Thursday, July 06, 2006 Dishes...*


After surviving on nothing but restaurant fare and the kindness of friends with kitchens since April, I finally have a stove, dishwasher, microwave, and cabinets. I am only a sink and countertops away from having a working kitchen.

I am unreasonably excited about having a complete home again. To be able to walk through the dining room and guest room for the first time in months is on par with a child's first trip to Disneyland. The discovery of standing walls and a floor is wondrous! The lack of drywall dust in the air makes breathing an orgasmically joyful experience. The absence of sawdust on the dog is cause for a prayer of thanksgiving! I have walked through the valley of the shadow of neverending construction and am emerging scarred, but into a brighter, cleaner, more usable home. Just a few more weeks and I will be able to use the new bathroom, sleep in the new bedroom, and be able to cook (sob!) in the kitchen.

I will celebrate the completion of this seemingly Sisyphean project as if it were the birth of my first child!

*Song by Pulp

Wednesday, July 05, 2006 4th of July...*

4th of July...*

This weekend marked the first July 4th weekend I have spent at home in my adult life. It feels odd to wake up on a weekday and not go to work.

Among the many upsides of July 4th at home is that I have had time to tackle the many items on my ever pending to-do-list, enjoy some good clean fun, and celebrate my own independence from some negative influences in my life that have weighed me down for too long.

Over the weekend I had the most alcohol-free fun I have had since I was 10 years old. Saturday was the day of "special" pool Olympics. Me and two of my friends spent hours in the pool competing in such events as gliding contests, the one leg propulsion event, underwater handstand racing, and (by far the most amusing event) touching your foot to your head. I discovered my slowest walking and driving friend is actually quite swift in the water (a skill which prompted the suggestion that she swim everywhere in lieu of walking) and my least graceful friend is freakishly flexible (and able to put her foot over her head). I apparently excel in games of hopping. Who knew I had such a great vertical?

Sunday was the day when my kitchen again became semi-usable. I was able to relocate my stores of canned goods and enough dishes to supply a restaurant to their rightful place in the new cabinets. It feels good to kind of have my home back...Now that the dining room and guest room are cleared I can pretend that the kitchen is finished.

July 4th festivities were fun in a distinctly Southern way. I participated in conversations ranging from Goth Disney character costumes for Dragon Con, bellydancing, and the trading of recipes for such mayonnaise laden Southern delights as broccoli salad and deviled eggs. All this talk was interrupted by rousing games of water volleyball (with three generations of players, Grandpa Bob can kick ass in the water), horseshoes, and what I thought was a bratwurst eating contest, but was actually only a few ravenous guys with barbaric table manners. The evening ended by setting off an armory full of fireworks, surprisingly no one was maimed and only a few surface burns were sustained.

Conclusion: I should stay in town more often!

*Song by Soundgarden

Monday, July 03, 2006 Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect...*

Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect...*

After months of living with various workmen in the house, remodeling is edging towards completion. Due to the language immersion of the past four months, I have learned the rudiments of contractor speak. This language has a similar sound to Klingon, as it is usually spoken through a mouth full of spit and dip and/or chewing tobacco. This strange breed of men appears to subsist on little more than nicotine, Tahitian Treat, and Nutty Bars.

Contractor: We will definitely be done by Friday. (Translation: It will be done by A Friday sometime in the unforeseeable future. The Friday in question may be as near as two weeks away or as far as the next appearance of Halley's Comet.)

Contractor: So it looks like everything is finished. (Translation: "Looks" is the keyword here. This means everything appears to be finished, but lurking behind the walls are loose wires waiting to detach at the slightest breeze and cause you to lose electricity in the kitchen and dining room area during your first post-construction dinner party. The pipes beneath the house are connected with chewing gum that will soften in the heat causing a leak that will only be discovered when raw sewage begins to seep up from beneath your original 1940s old growth pine wood floors.)

Home owner: So when do you think you should wrap things up? (Translation: When are you going to get the hell out of my house so I can change the locks and shower without fear of interruption?)

*by The Decemberist