About six months ago, my friend Kim gave us the first and second season of The Sopranos to watch whenever we had time. The Sopranos is a show I had maybe seen three scenes of over the years. I wasn’t purposely avoiding it, but I felt like it was a show that if you don’t see it from the beginning, it’s not really worth watching. And it started when I was in college, back in the days when I never watched TV, so I never saw it.
Of course, everyone stones me when I mention I’ve never seen it. Finally, about a week ago, gina and I popped in the first disc of the first season to see what was what. Not surprisingly, we’re hooked. I haven’t been this addicted since Lost was on DVD, but I feel like this is even worse because gina and I have both fallen head over heels in TV love with Lorraine Bracco, who plays Dr. Jennifer Melfi on the show. I’ve had dreams almost every night for the past week about being involved in murder plots or other various illegal activities, and also one PG-13 dream about Dr. Melfi herself.
As I tend to do, I’ve been sharing my obsession with a few choice people, including my friend Joey at work, who is also a big fan of the show. She’s part of the Coffee Time crew, and because I think she’s hilarious, I have a habit of trying to make her laugh more than she’s ever laughed before. It usually works, but today, another Coffee Time girl, Liz, stole my thunder.
I can’t remember what we were talking about, but I was being my usual stupid sarcastic self, trying to make the girls laugh, probably sounding mean about something or other.
Joey said, “Now, Katie, Dr. Melfi wouldn’t approve of you saying that.”
I gasped. “How do you know what I’m thinking about every second of every day?!?”
She laughed, and then Liz said, completely seriously, “Wait, do you guys go to the same doctor?”
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
What the hell?
I suppose I can't have everything I want.
Last season, Texas beat USC in the Rose Bowl and thus snapped an annoying winning streak in an instant classic.
Then, USC lost this past season to the unranked Oregon State Beavers. HAHAHA!
Additionally, Ohio State had an undefeated season this past year, including the defeat of the Michigan Wolverines, a team just as talented and tough as the Buckeyes.
To top it off, USC LOST TO UCLA, in my second favorite game of the year!! (Top favorite: OSU v Michigan)
But sadly, with the Bowl season truly upon us, nothing good has happened for any team I like. I rooted for Michigan in the Rose Bowl because I think their team is better than USC. Michigan lost.
I rooted for Notre Dame in the Sugar Bowl because I love Notre Dame. They lost - 41 to 14 (an eerie foreshadowing).
Then, in an unthinkable nightmare, the undefeated Ohio State Buckeyes got SPANKED by the Flordia Gators last night. 41 to 14. One of Ohio's star players was injured early in the game, and that seemed to throw off the entire team. There was little to no pass protection, and the defense was nothing if not asleep. Because the QB kept getting SACKED, OSU only managed something like 84 yards on the night. It was terrible and embarrassing.
Is it next season yet?
Last season, Texas beat USC in the Rose Bowl and thus snapped an annoying winning streak in an instant classic.
Then, USC lost this past season to the unranked Oregon State Beavers. HAHAHA!
Additionally, Ohio State had an undefeated season this past year, including the defeat of the Michigan Wolverines, a team just as talented and tough as the Buckeyes.
To top it off, USC LOST TO UCLA, in my second favorite game of the year!! (Top favorite: OSU v Michigan)
But sadly, with the Bowl season truly upon us, nothing good has happened for any team I like. I rooted for Michigan in the Rose Bowl because I think their team is better than USC. Michigan lost.
I rooted for Notre Dame in the Sugar Bowl because I love Notre Dame. They lost - 41 to 14 (an eerie foreshadowing).
Then, in an unthinkable nightmare, the undefeated Ohio State Buckeyes got SPANKED by the Flordia Gators last night. 41 to 14. One of Ohio's star players was injured early in the game, and that seemed to throw off the entire team. There was little to no pass protection, and the defense was nothing if not asleep. Because the QB kept getting SACKED, OSU only managed something like 84 yards on the night. It was terrible and embarrassing.
Is it next season yet?
Friday, January 05, 2007
The One Where I Describe Worrying
Last night, as we were watching ER, I started to notice something wrong with my vision. There was an amoeba-like creature floating in my line of sight, and it moved when I moved, and turned black (but still visible) whenever I blinked. It kept growing, until finally it got so irritating I had to get up and do something else. The kitchen still needed cleaned, so I decided I'd do that. As I began washing the dishes, the amoeba-like creature kept growing, until finally, I really couldn't see the stuff I was washing OFF the dishes. I could see that I was holding a plate, but I couldn't see where exactly I needed to scrub the most.
My immediate reaction was that I was getting a migraine. I've had two or three in my life, all in 10th grade, and the diagnosis of stress-related migraine made sense back then. I hated being 15. Seriously. Anyway, the beginning of them always started with something weird happening with my vision. The problem with what was happening last night was that there was no accompanying headache, but rather the vision kept getting worse and worse.
This was my train of thought as I powered through the dishes that I couldn't see:
"Please let my head start hurting. Please let this be a migraine. Oh my god, what if it's not? What if I'm going blind? Should gina take me to the hospital right now? No, I'm sure I'm not going blind. Let me just go to bed and see how I feel in the morning. But what if I can't see in the morning? What if it's too late for them to fix it? What if I'm really going blind? Oh my GOD, I've never even been to Europe. We'll go to Europe and I won't be able to see anything and gina will have to say, "oh, it's just like the pictures," and I'll remember the pictures but I'll have never seen the REAL THING. I'll never see my children! I won't even know what they look like! I'll lose my job! I can't be a blind producer! Or maybe I could? I mean, the camera guy could let me know if I'm getting what I need to be getting. But then what purpose would I serve? I'd have to go on disability! I couldn't write anymore. What the hell would I do? I'd have to get a guide dog. Oh, that would be cute, though! But wait! I wouldn't even be able to SEE HIM!! Why is this happening? Was it that banana berry sorbet from Trader Joe's? Oh my GOD..."
I finished the dishes and quickly went to the bed. I covered my head with my pillow to block out all light. I couldn't get it dark enough. I asked gina to bring me a vicodin, because if a situation ever called for one, this one was it. She did, and when I took my head out from under the pillow and looked at her, my vision was back to normal, but my head was pounding. I've never been so grateful for a headache in my entire life. And even this morning, as my head is still pounding, I'm so thankful I can see the sunlight coming through the window, and that I was able to catch an episode of Roseanne I've seen about 12 times.
My immediate reaction was that I was getting a migraine. I've had two or three in my life, all in 10th grade, and the diagnosis of stress-related migraine made sense back then. I hated being 15. Seriously. Anyway, the beginning of them always started with something weird happening with my vision. The problem with what was happening last night was that there was no accompanying headache, but rather the vision kept getting worse and worse.
This was my train of thought as I powered through the dishes that I couldn't see:
"Please let my head start hurting. Please let this be a migraine. Oh my god, what if it's not? What if I'm going blind? Should gina take me to the hospital right now? No, I'm sure I'm not going blind. Let me just go to bed and see how I feel in the morning. But what if I can't see in the morning? What if it's too late for them to fix it? What if I'm really going blind? Oh my GOD, I've never even been to Europe. We'll go to Europe and I won't be able to see anything and gina will have to say, "oh, it's just like the pictures," and I'll remember the pictures but I'll have never seen the REAL THING. I'll never see my children! I won't even know what they look like! I'll lose my job! I can't be a blind producer! Or maybe I could? I mean, the camera guy could let me know if I'm getting what I need to be getting. But then what purpose would I serve? I'd have to go on disability! I couldn't write anymore. What the hell would I do? I'd have to get a guide dog. Oh, that would be cute, though! But wait! I wouldn't even be able to SEE HIM!! Why is this happening? Was it that banana berry sorbet from Trader Joe's? Oh my GOD..."
I finished the dishes and quickly went to the bed. I covered my head with my pillow to block out all light. I couldn't get it dark enough. I asked gina to bring me a vicodin, because if a situation ever called for one, this one was it. She did, and when I took my head out from under the pillow and looked at her, my vision was back to normal, but my head was pounding. I've never been so grateful for a headache in my entire life. And even this morning, as my head is still pounding, I'm so thankful I can see the sunlight coming through the window, and that I was able to catch an episode of Roseanne I've seen about 12 times.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Puzzling
When I was home in Ohio, my sister Jessie came home one night at 12:30pm with a puzzle one of her friends bought her for Christmas. It was a Star Wars puzzle, and we stayed up the entire night putting it together. I was thrilled that I found an activity that I could actually do that late at night and NOT fall asleep.
Therefore, when we got back to LA, one of our first purchases was a new puzzle. Went to Target and bought this one:
I wanted it because of the cute dogs on it. I wasn't really thinking of how difficult or easy it might be - I just loved the puppies. I mean, look at this:
Even out of focus, they're cute!
Gina and I began the puzzle like almost everyone I know begins a puzzle. We found all the end pieces and put those together first. Unforutnately, I don't have the process pictures, and only the finished product, but I do want to tell you a few things we learned about this puzzle.
1. It was HARD, mostly because so many of the pieces were the same color as countless other pieces, as evidenced here:
2. What is with puzzles today and all the wonky pieces?? See:
That one in the middle? What the hell kind of puzzle piece is that?
And what about this one:
That middle one almost looks like the United States.
3. As promised, those little puppies turned out cute:
4. The whole puzzle took us about 10-12 hours, over 3-4 days. There was a lot of swearing, a lot of assertions that "these pieces do NOT go to this puzzle!!" But finally, we finished it:
That's not all, though. Notice anything wrong with this puzzle?
How about now?
That's right. They sold us a 500 piece puzzle with only 499 pieces! Is that a Ravensburger Puzzle trick or something? It's not like this is a puzzle that's been sitting in our closet for years and years, a puzzle that's been put together over and over again by small children, a puzzle whose pieces might have been eaten by the family dog. No. We opened this puzzle and started putting it together right away, seeking out all end pieces first thing. And this is the thanks we get.
Therefore, when we got back to LA, one of our first purchases was a new puzzle. Went to Target and bought this one:
I wanted it because of the cute dogs on it. I wasn't really thinking of how difficult or easy it might be - I just loved the puppies. I mean, look at this:
Even out of focus, they're cute!
Gina and I began the puzzle like almost everyone I know begins a puzzle. We found all the end pieces and put those together first. Unforutnately, I don't have the process pictures, and only the finished product, but I do want to tell you a few things we learned about this puzzle.
1. It was HARD, mostly because so many of the pieces were the same color as countless other pieces, as evidenced here:
2. What is with puzzles today and all the wonky pieces?? See:
That one in the middle? What the hell kind of puzzle piece is that?
And what about this one:
That middle one almost looks like the United States.
3. As promised, those little puppies turned out cute:
4. The whole puzzle took us about 10-12 hours, over 3-4 days. There was a lot of swearing, a lot of assertions that "these pieces do NOT go to this puzzle!!" But finally, we finished it:
That's not all, though. Notice anything wrong with this puzzle?
How about now?
That's right. They sold us a 500 piece puzzle with only 499 pieces! Is that a Ravensburger Puzzle trick or something? It's not like this is a puzzle that's been sitting in our closet for years and years, a puzzle that's been put together over and over again by small children, a puzzle whose pieces might have been eaten by the family dog. No. We opened this puzzle and started putting it together right away, seeking out all end pieces first thing. And this is the thanks we get.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Show me the money
I'm setting a new record here, with all the no posting. It's almost as if things are moving along too smoothly, with nothing all that exciting to report, which is not to say any of my posts have ever been that exciting.
The most dramatic thing that's happened as of late is that the bank lost two paychecks of mine. Yep. Not one, but two. They were deposited a week and a half ago, and still have not posted to my account. It's been fun, seeing how little money I can live on right after I spent so much on Christmas presents. On top of this, I'm on hiatus, as is the whole production company I work for, so I can't even call the accounting department to find out if those checks have been cashed. I'm forced to just wait while Bank of America does some detective work.
Other than that, Christmas went off pretty well, except that I got an early present in the form of a sore throat. Merry Christmas! I'm still coughing, but it seems it's related to my random adult-onset asthma as opposed to any illness.
I guess I have more to talk about, but I don't want to lump it all in one post, so maybe I'll actually update again tomorrow. In the meantime, here's a picture of our Christmas cookies we made this year:
The most dramatic thing that's happened as of late is that the bank lost two paychecks of mine. Yep. Not one, but two. They were deposited a week and a half ago, and still have not posted to my account. It's been fun, seeing how little money I can live on right after I spent so much on Christmas presents. On top of this, I'm on hiatus, as is the whole production company I work for, so I can't even call the accounting department to find out if those checks have been cashed. I'm forced to just wait while Bank of America does some detective work.
Other than that, Christmas went off pretty well, except that I got an early present in the form of a sore throat. Merry Christmas! I'm still coughing, but it seems it's related to my random adult-onset asthma as opposed to any illness.
I guess I have more to talk about, but I don't want to lump it all in one post, so maybe I'll actually update again tomorrow. In the meantime, here's a picture of our Christmas cookies we made this year:
Friday, December 08, 2006
Long overdue.
I have little faith that people are still stopping by, waiting for me to update, but I do know that my beautiful girlfriend still awaits a new post, so I'm going for it.
I've been busy, busy, busy and worse, uninspired. Actually, inspiration is never the problem... it's just sitting down at the computer and devoting time to it.
I'm currently in Chicago for work, and I'm cold. To mark my arrival, the skies unleashed upon this city about 6 inches of snow. The snow was fresh and sparkling when I arrived last Sunday, and throughout this week of crazy cold temperatures, the snow has turned into a layer of crunchy, icy madness. It's slippery everywhere, and the cold is the kind that chaps your skin and freezes your blood. It's the kind of weather that chased me out of Ohio, and it's one of the biggest reasons I'm okay if I never live in the midwest ever again.
The good news about this weather is that it's put me in quite the Christmasy mood. I've been listening to Christmas music non- stop since I arrived, and on television, I've caught How The Grinch Stole Christmas and Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Every time I watch those cartoons, I go right back to being six years old and totally caught up in that magic that Christmas can bring. I remember the anticipation, the excitement. My memories of Christmases are my clearest memories of my childhood, and now the excitement every year comes when I think of all of the memories my future children will have of Christmases. It makes me all mushy inside, and while the cold weather in Chicago is bringing all of this on, the truth is, there's no place I'd rather be right now than home in Los Angeles, in 70 degree weather with no snow, in the treehouse, with my girlfriend and our Christmas tree.
Speaking of magic, how about that USC UCLA game?! It was truly a Christmas miracle!
I've been busy, busy, busy and worse, uninspired. Actually, inspiration is never the problem... it's just sitting down at the computer and devoting time to it.
I'm currently in Chicago for work, and I'm cold. To mark my arrival, the skies unleashed upon this city about 6 inches of snow. The snow was fresh and sparkling when I arrived last Sunday, and throughout this week of crazy cold temperatures, the snow has turned into a layer of crunchy, icy madness. It's slippery everywhere, and the cold is the kind that chaps your skin and freezes your blood. It's the kind of weather that chased me out of Ohio, and it's one of the biggest reasons I'm okay if I never live in the midwest ever again.
The good news about this weather is that it's put me in quite the Christmasy mood. I've been listening to Christmas music non- stop since I arrived, and on television, I've caught How The Grinch Stole Christmas and Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Every time I watch those cartoons, I go right back to being six years old and totally caught up in that magic that Christmas can bring. I remember the anticipation, the excitement. My memories of Christmases are my clearest memories of my childhood, and now the excitement every year comes when I think of all of the memories my future children will have of Christmases. It makes me all mushy inside, and while the cold weather in Chicago is bringing all of this on, the truth is, there's no place I'd rather be right now than home in Los Angeles, in 70 degree weather with no snow, in the treehouse, with my girlfriend and our Christmas tree.
Speaking of magic, how about that USC UCLA game?! It was truly a Christmas miracle!
Friday, November 17, 2006
Chicago
...or "How I Love That It's Part of My Job to Take One of the Company's Canon Digital Rebels With Me Whenever I Travel For Work."
I was going to mess with these in Photoshop, but then I realized, I have no real knowledge of Photoshop. I figure I'd just let the Digital Rebel speak for itself in these shots. The pictures aren't perfect, but I still think they're pretty f*cking cool.
I was going to mess with these in Photoshop, but then I realized, I have no real knowledge of Photoshop. I figure I'd just let the Digital Rebel speak for itself in these shots. The pictures aren't perfect, but I still think they're pretty f*cking cool.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Who knew?
Two weeks ago, as I was traveling back to LA from Orlando on a work trip, I started to get a sore throat. The sore throat turned quickly into a bit of a cough. The sore throat then went away and the cough went full speed ahead.
This wasn't just any cough. This was a wheezy, persistent cough, one that got worse every time I laughed (and I laugh A LOT). I had no other symptoms of anything and could not figure out what the hell was happening with this cough. I thought for sure it was bronchitis. I kept hoping it would go away. My co-worker finally dubbed it "the homeless man cough." When I realized people at work were sort of staring at me as though I were infecting them with the plague, I decided to go to the doctor. I also realized that I'm traveling to Ohio next week and I don't want to be sick in the cold weather, and around a couple of new baby cousins that have been born in the past 2 weeks.
It had gotten to the point where Sunday afternoon, before a dinner with some new friends of ours, I said to gina, "I hope they don't say anything funny... I'll be coughing all night."
I called my doctor, and in classic HMO style, she of course can't see me for a week. So I go to urgent care, where I see a doctor I've seen way more than my own doctor, because this one is actually available. He asks me a few questions about the cough and diagnoses it as asthma. Asthma! I'm 28 years old, and I've been diagnosed with asthma all of a sudden. Color me surprised.
Two doses of prednisone, two doses of cough syrup with codeine, and several doses of an inhaler, I feel amazing. I no longer sound homeless, and I no longer feel like a Rotteweiler is sitting on my chest.
This wasn't just any cough. This was a wheezy, persistent cough, one that got worse every time I laughed (and I laugh A LOT). I had no other symptoms of anything and could not figure out what the hell was happening with this cough. I thought for sure it was bronchitis. I kept hoping it would go away. My co-worker finally dubbed it "the homeless man cough." When I realized people at work were sort of staring at me as though I were infecting them with the plague, I decided to go to the doctor. I also realized that I'm traveling to Ohio next week and I don't want to be sick in the cold weather, and around a couple of new baby cousins that have been born in the past 2 weeks.
It had gotten to the point where Sunday afternoon, before a dinner with some new friends of ours, I said to gina, "I hope they don't say anything funny... I'll be coughing all night."
I called my doctor, and in classic HMO style, she of course can't see me for a week. So I go to urgent care, where I see a doctor I've seen way more than my own doctor, because this one is actually available. He asks me a few questions about the cough and diagnoses it as asthma. Asthma! I'm 28 years old, and I've been diagnosed with asthma all of a sudden. Color me surprised.
Two doses of prednisone, two doses of cough syrup with codeine, and several doses of an inhaler, I feel amazing. I no longer sound homeless, and I no longer feel like a Rotteweiler is sitting on my chest.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Relief
I am in a great mood today, a mood I refuse to let anything ruin. Why am I in such a good mood? Two reasons:
1. The Democrats finally took back control of the House, with Liberal Lady Nancy Pelosi as the speaker. This is good for a few reasons - I think this will bring back a more centrist way of making decisions. I am thrilled to see history being made with Nancy being the first woman speaker. And above all, I'm hoping this means no more ridiculous time spent on stuff like a gay marriage ban amendment to the United States Constitution.
2. I played poker last night and WON!! Usually I go out first or second and am forced to sit around while everyone else h as a good time. Last night I won! Guess all those Celebrity Poker Showdowns that Gina tivos helped.
1. The Democrats finally took back control of the House, with Liberal Lady Nancy Pelosi as the speaker. This is good for a few reasons - I think this will bring back a more centrist way of making decisions. I am thrilled to see history being made with Nancy being the first woman speaker. And above all, I'm hoping this means no more ridiculous time spent on stuff like a gay marriage ban amendment to the United States Constitution.
2. I played poker last night and WON!! Usually I go out first or second and am forced to sit around while everyone else h as a good time. Last night I won! Guess all those Celebrity Poker Showdowns that Gina tivos helped.
Friday, October 20, 2006
These are the days...
A while ago, KTP tagged all of her readers to post their high school picture. Well, remember when I told you I got a scanner with my new computer?
Class of 1996
I sure am rocking those huge glasses, huh?
Class of 1996
I sure am rocking those huge glasses, huh?
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
It's an update. Now with more portraiture.
I'm barely keeping my eyes open to write this, but I haven't posted a real post in a while, so I want to give you eager readers something.
Work has been keeping me very occupied. I received a promotion I've been waiting for for almost two years. In TV, you go from job to job, and it's hard to stay somewhere long enough to get promoted. Someone really has to take a chance on you. I've been at my company for a while now, working my ass off, and I've finally been promoted. I couldn't be more excited. I'll get to travel all over the country and the world for my job, meeting new people and seeing new places. Imagine the pictures you'll get then!!
Something that helped me get promoted is that I am pretty decent at writing scripts for reality TV, which really is story editing. So I've taken on a script for my show and THAT has really sucked up any amount of free time I may have had. The good news is, it's a way for me to not only further my education as a producer of such TV, but it's also a way to earn some extra cash. The check, which hasn't even been issued because I haven't even finished the script, has already been spent. Here's what it bought this past weekend:
Maybe it should have bought me a new desk - my work station, pictured here, is a round table my friend Kim bequeathed to me a few years back, and trust me, it is NOT conducive to any sort of work. It's a dining room table! But in our little treehouse, it's all I have in the way of a desk.
So anyway, yes, I bought a new iMac this past weekend. "Bought" is a relative term. Really, Bank of America bought it, and I just have to pay them back eventually. My iBook has been giving me trouble as of late, intermittently freezing. I think the problem is covered under some sort of warranty, but with my script due this week, I had no time to give my laptop to anyone. I didn't think this was a good enough reason to buy a new computer, and then I realized that the iBook has as much memory as a 30 gig iPod. Since I now own a digital camera, this is not a big enough hard drive for me, and I decided it was time to upgrade to a newer computer. Also, with the promotion, it will be nice to have a for-the-road computer, and a computer that I can keep here at the Treehouse for gina to be able to check email and such. And on Saturday, when I lost about two hours of work for about the third time, I would have paid a lot more for a lot less in the way of a computer.
Of course with the computer came a free printer, which scans!! I've been wanting a scanner for 10 years and I finally have one!! Oh, what fun I'll have...
In other news, I finally filed my taxes for 2005. Yep, that's right. I'm a champ at procrastination. Unbeatable, really.
I want to tell you about the week I got promoted, wherein I had somehow hurt my back and my doctor prescribed me muscle relaxers 3x a day, 800 mg of ibuprofen (that's FOUR advil for those of you who are pilliterate) every four hours, and vicodin three to four times a day as needed (this wasn't just any backache, people - I really thought I might die), and thereby the news of the promotion came as sort of a fuzzy cloud of information I couldn't quite process, but I feel like I can't fit it in anywhere, so I'll leave it for another time.
I went pro recently - with flickr.com. Amanda B. invited me to a group on Flickr, a group that challenges you to take one self-portrait a day for 365 Days. My post earlier today showed my portrait from yesterday. Here for you now is my portrait I submitted today, which not only shows you a very cool feature of my new computer, but which also exemplifies an attribute I have worked, fought, cried, and clawed for my whole life and I am now to the point where I experience it at least four times a week. I think that's pretty damn spiffy.
"Self Love" taken with my iMac Photo Booth.
Work has been keeping me very occupied. I received a promotion I've been waiting for for almost two years. In TV, you go from job to job, and it's hard to stay somewhere long enough to get promoted. Someone really has to take a chance on you. I've been at my company for a while now, working my ass off, and I've finally been promoted. I couldn't be more excited. I'll get to travel all over the country and the world for my job, meeting new people and seeing new places. Imagine the pictures you'll get then!!
Something that helped me get promoted is that I am pretty decent at writing scripts for reality TV, which really is story editing. So I've taken on a script for my show and THAT has really sucked up any amount of free time I may have had. The good news is, it's a way for me to not only further my education as a producer of such TV, but it's also a way to earn some extra cash. The check, which hasn't even been issued because I haven't even finished the script, has already been spent. Here's what it bought this past weekend:
Maybe it should have bought me a new desk - my work station, pictured here, is a round table my friend Kim bequeathed to me a few years back, and trust me, it is NOT conducive to any sort of work. It's a dining room table! But in our little treehouse, it's all I have in the way of a desk.
So anyway, yes, I bought a new iMac this past weekend. "Bought" is a relative term. Really, Bank of America bought it, and I just have to pay them back eventually. My iBook has been giving me trouble as of late, intermittently freezing. I think the problem is covered under some sort of warranty, but with my script due this week, I had no time to give my laptop to anyone. I didn't think this was a good enough reason to buy a new computer, and then I realized that the iBook has as much memory as a 30 gig iPod. Since I now own a digital camera, this is not a big enough hard drive for me, and I decided it was time to upgrade to a newer computer. Also, with the promotion, it will be nice to have a for-the-road computer, and a computer that I can keep here at the Treehouse for gina to be able to check email and such. And on Saturday, when I lost about two hours of work for about the third time, I would have paid a lot more for a lot less in the way of a computer.
Of course with the computer came a free printer, which scans!! I've been wanting a scanner for 10 years and I finally have one!! Oh, what fun I'll have...
In other news, I finally filed my taxes for 2005. Yep, that's right. I'm a champ at procrastination. Unbeatable, really.
I want to tell you about the week I got promoted, wherein I had somehow hurt my back and my doctor prescribed me muscle relaxers 3x a day, 800 mg of ibuprofen (that's FOUR advil for those of you who are pilliterate) every four hours, and vicodin three to four times a day as needed (this wasn't just any backache, people - I really thought I might die), and thereby the news of the promotion came as sort of a fuzzy cloud of information I couldn't quite process, but I feel like I can't fit it in anywhere, so I'll leave it for another time.
I went pro recently - with flickr.com. Amanda B. invited me to a group on Flickr, a group that challenges you to take one self-portrait a day for 365 Days. My post earlier today showed my portrait from yesterday. Here for you now is my portrait I submitted today, which not only shows you a very cool feature of my new computer, but which also exemplifies an attribute I have worked, fought, cried, and clawed for my whole life and I am now to the point where I experience it at least four times a week. I think that's pretty damn spiffy.
"Self Love" taken with my iMac Photo Booth.
Monday, October 02, 2006
More pesticides, please.
Gina and I go to the Farmer's Market every Sunday to buy a week's worth of fruit. We usually buy peaches and/or nectarines, grapes, mangos, a watermelon and sometimes a pineapple. If murcots are in season, we stock up on those. Lately, we've been buying ju ju bees, which look like little brown apples and taste much better than any apple I've had in the past year.
We came back with all of this delicious looking this past Sunday, and after all the groceries were put away, Gina decided to enjoy an organic white nectarine. She ate about half of it and offered me a bite. It's the kind of nectarine that pulls right away cleanly from the pit - YUM. I took a bite, and noticed something weird on the pit.
It.
Was.
A.
Bug.
A real live bug. Dangerously close to ingestion by ME. I hate bugs. Hate them. I jumped up and winced, ran over to the trash and spit out my bite.
"There's a bug!" I yelled. It was a little slimy red thing, moving around on the pit.
I might be officially against organic fruit. The more pesticides, the better, thank you very much. Better yet, cut out the fruit completely. Let's just eat Cheetos.
We came back with all of this delicious looking this past Sunday, and after all the groceries were put away, Gina decided to enjoy an organic white nectarine. She ate about half of it and offered me a bite. It's the kind of nectarine that pulls right away cleanly from the pit - YUM. I took a bite, and noticed something weird on the pit.
It.
Was.
A.
Bug.
A real live bug. Dangerously close to ingestion by ME. I hate bugs. Hate them. I jumped up and winced, ran over to the trash and spit out my bite.
"There's a bug!" I yelled. It was a little slimy red thing, moving around on the pit.
I might be officially against organic fruit. The more pesticides, the better, thank you very much. Better yet, cut out the fruit completely. Let's just eat Cheetos.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
A new love
I have always loved football, but this season, I am, in a word, obsessed. College football has been like a drug to me the past few weeks, a drug I've admittedly not needed, but one that I've enjoyed immensely. Gina has been so patient with me about it, even trying to get into it, and sometimes pretending that she's as excited about it as I am. But the best thing is, she lets me love it. She lets me watch it on TV and she patiently waits until the game is over, and she'll watch the replays if I ask her to. If I were single, I'd be watching every single game on Saturday... it's probably better for me that that's not an option.
One thing Gina will rarely turn down when it comes to sports is actually playing them. She might not love watching them on TV, she might not understand them completely, but man, if you suggest that we try to actually play it, she loves it. As do I.
Monday, we went to Target to get a few necessary household items (water, dish soap, decorative jack-o-lantern), and we decided to buy a football. After much decision, we chose the Pee Wee Football, designed for little boys ages 6 to 9. There was one smaller size - the mini football - but I felt like that was too small. This one seems just right - and I can't believe a six year old would be expected to hold this football.
The past two nights, we've gone to a park near our apartment to play catch with the football. I had never thrown a football before Monday night, and I picked up the spiral pretty easily. It was FUN. The latent purpose of this is to of course exercise without realizing you're exercising - my favorite kind of workout. Let's play basketball or football or softball or go hiking... anything but the g.d. GYM. Seriously.
I'm here to tell you something - football hurts. The first night, it was all smiles and sunshine. Yesterday, I was a little sore - my arms and shoulders mainly. Last night when we played, it hurt a little but then felt good. But this morning...
Hell.
Everything hurts. It hurts to grip a pen. It hurts to type. It hurts to sit and it hurts to stand.
And yet... there's still something in me that wants to go back out tonight and play more. This weekend, we're getting together with a few girls to "play football." Not really sure what that will entail, but you better believe you'll be getting some pictures of it.
One thing Gina will rarely turn down when it comes to sports is actually playing them. She might not love watching them on TV, she might not understand them completely, but man, if you suggest that we try to actually play it, she loves it. As do I.
Monday, we went to Target to get a few necessary household items (water, dish soap, decorative jack-o-lantern), and we decided to buy a football. After much decision, we chose the Pee Wee Football, designed for little boys ages 6 to 9. There was one smaller size - the mini football - but I felt like that was too small. This one seems just right - and I can't believe a six year old would be expected to hold this football.
The past two nights, we've gone to a park near our apartment to play catch with the football. I had never thrown a football before Monday night, and I picked up the spiral pretty easily. It was FUN. The latent purpose of this is to of course exercise without realizing you're exercising - my favorite kind of workout. Let's play basketball or football or softball or go hiking... anything but the g.d. GYM. Seriously.
I'm here to tell you something - football hurts. The first night, it was all smiles and sunshine. Yesterday, I was a little sore - my arms and shoulders mainly. Last night when we played, it hurt a little but then felt good. But this morning...
Hell.
Everything hurts. It hurts to grip a pen. It hurts to type. It hurts to sit and it hurts to stand.
And yet... there's still something in me that wants to go back out tonight and play more. This weekend, we're getting together with a few girls to "play football." Not really sure what that will entail, but you better believe you'll be getting some pictures of it.
Housekeeping
Just wanted to let you guys know, I'm moving most of my old entries from my old blog onto this space and backdating them as to when I wrote them. So basically, there will be more archives on this site every day, if you're interested in checking them.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
TheRapists
After years of thinking that my psychology classes in college have forever barred me from ever getting anything tangible out of going to a therapist, I finally decided about a month ago to seriously start looking for a head shrinker, if for no other reason than to just give me some more perspective.
Firstly, allow me to say that the process of finding a therapist is not something anyone under any psychological duress should ever have to endure. It's looking up people online, and then looking them up to see if they're covered on your insurance. OR, it's seeing that they ARE covered, and then being unable to find out anything about them from a google search.
Finally, I found someone perfect for me. Covered under my insurance, less than a mile from my house, a woman, specializing in what seemed to be a laundry list of my self-diagnosed problems. Three days before my last period (read: In a crazy hormonal state), I called this woman to make an appointment. She called me back to ask what I was interested in, and my head was swimming with an ideal notion that she was going to be perfect for me. She called me back! Right away! She sounds really nice! I explained to her that I had a hard time finding her and I was so grateful she was covered under my insurance.
"What insurance do you have?" she asked.
"Aetna."
"HMO or PPO?"
"HMO."
"I just stopped accepting HMO insurance. Are you sure you're not PPO?"
Three days before my period, tears welled in my eyes and a lump forced its way to the back of my throat. "Yeah, I'm sure. How much are you per session?"
"$90."
"That's fine, I don't think I'll need to see you once a week, so I can afford 2x a month."
"I don't mean to discourage you from working with me, because I'd love to meet you and I think I can help you, but I always suggest that new patients meet with me once a week so that we can identify any patterns in your life."
I'm not really much for patterns. "Fine. When's my appointment?"
September 5th, 9am, I arrive to her office. I take the stuffy ride up in the elevator to the fourth floor. The whole building is eerily quiet. I find her suite and walk in to an empty room with two chairs, and two buttons on the wall. "Seen by appointment only. Please buzz your therapist when you arrive." I pressed the button by her name and sat down.
Moments later, a woman looking not entirely unlike Sandra Oh, opened the door and smiled at me. I supposed that was my cue to get up and follow her, so I did. She said hello, how are you, the usual small talk, and led me to a back room and sat me down on the couch. She sat right in front of me and just looked at me, smiling carefully, as though I were a victim of some terrible... something.
In my head, I had pictured her introducing herself, and asking me questions. Instead, she just stared at me cautiously, as though I were a 9/11 widow or my sister had registered as a Republican.
I said, "Um, are you Michele?"
She smiled and nodded.
I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. So I just started talking. She rarely had anything to say, and when she did, it was spoken in a Funeral Voice. She pretty much just listened to me, asked a few detail questions: "What's your girlfriend's name?" "When did your dad start drinking again?" and my favorite, "What about depression?"
When I ran out of things to say, she said, "We're just about out of time, is there anything else you want to say?"
I had just spent 45 minutes with a total stranger, spilling my guts, and now she's asking if I have anything else.
"No," I said, "do you have any questions for me?"
Of course she didn't, so she reminded me the payment is $90, and we set up another appointment. As I was leaving, the only thing I could think of, next to my disappointment, was, "Shit, I have friends who will listen to me bitch for 45 minutes for FREE... why did I come here again?" Beyond that, she's a LCSW... the least I could have done was pick someone with the ability to give me some drugs. This woman just has pricey listening skills.
I let my second appointment stand until 2 days before its scheduled time before canceling it. I'd rather spend my $90 on something that is actually guaranteed to make me feel good... like a full tank of gas and a fridge full of groceries.
Firstly, allow me to say that the process of finding a therapist is not something anyone under any psychological duress should ever have to endure. It's looking up people online, and then looking them up to see if they're covered on your insurance. OR, it's seeing that they ARE covered, and then being unable to find out anything about them from a google search.
Finally, I found someone perfect for me. Covered under my insurance, less than a mile from my house, a woman, specializing in what seemed to be a laundry list of my self-diagnosed problems. Three days before my last period (read: In a crazy hormonal state), I called this woman to make an appointment. She called me back to ask what I was interested in, and my head was swimming with an ideal notion that she was going to be perfect for me. She called me back! Right away! She sounds really nice! I explained to her that I had a hard time finding her and I was so grateful she was covered under my insurance.
"What insurance do you have?" she asked.
"Aetna."
"HMO or PPO?"
"HMO."
"I just stopped accepting HMO insurance. Are you sure you're not PPO?"
Three days before my period, tears welled in my eyes and a lump forced its way to the back of my throat. "Yeah, I'm sure. How much are you per session?"
"$90."
"That's fine, I don't think I'll need to see you once a week, so I can afford 2x a month."
"I don't mean to discourage you from working with me, because I'd love to meet you and I think I can help you, but I always suggest that new patients meet with me once a week so that we can identify any patterns in your life."
I'm not really much for patterns. "Fine. When's my appointment?"
September 5th, 9am, I arrive to her office. I take the stuffy ride up in the elevator to the fourth floor. The whole building is eerily quiet. I find her suite and walk in to an empty room with two chairs, and two buttons on the wall. "Seen by appointment only. Please buzz your therapist when you arrive." I pressed the button by her name and sat down.
Moments later, a woman looking not entirely unlike Sandra Oh, opened the door and smiled at me. I supposed that was my cue to get up and follow her, so I did. She said hello, how are you, the usual small talk, and led me to a back room and sat me down on the couch. She sat right in front of me and just looked at me, smiling carefully, as though I were a victim of some terrible... something.
In my head, I had pictured her introducing herself, and asking me questions. Instead, she just stared at me cautiously, as though I were a 9/11 widow or my sister had registered as a Republican.
I said, "Um, are you Michele?"
She smiled and nodded.
I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. So I just started talking. She rarely had anything to say, and when she did, it was spoken in a Funeral Voice. She pretty much just listened to me, asked a few detail questions: "What's your girlfriend's name?" "When did your dad start drinking again?" and my favorite, "What about depression?"
When I ran out of things to say, she said, "We're just about out of time, is there anything else you want to say?"
I had just spent 45 minutes with a total stranger, spilling my guts, and now she's asking if I have anything else.
"No," I said, "do you have any questions for me?"
Of course she didn't, so she reminded me the payment is $90, and we set up another appointment. As I was leaving, the only thing I could think of, next to my disappointment, was, "Shit, I have friends who will listen to me bitch for 45 minutes for FREE... why did I come here again?" Beyond that, she's a LCSW... the least I could have done was pick someone with the ability to give me some drugs. This woman just has pricey listening skills.
I let my second appointment stand until 2 days before its scheduled time before canceling it. I'd rather spend my $90 on something that is actually guaranteed to make me feel good... like a full tank of gas and a fridge full of groceries.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Already September, and this was only my first wedding.
Gina and I flew to Colorado this past weekend for a wedding. On the shuttle on the way to the actual ceremony, someone asked, "So how many weddings has everyone been to this year?"
A young guy in front of us whose girlfriend was in the wedding confessed that this was his fourth.
A long haired theater kid said this was only his third, but that he was going to two more before the year would be over.
Behind us, a married friend of ours marveled that this was only their second of the year.
I looked and Gina and said, "Yeah, this is our first of the year."
A fashionable (gay) guy sitting next to us said, "My friends aren't really the marrying type."
Gina laughed and said, "Ours either." I added, "The two friends we have that ARE the marrying type have found each other, luckily."
The two friends are Lisa and Allyson. Our first gay wedding ever. I met Lisa about two years ago, and subsequently her girlfriend Allyson, and there never were two people more suited for each other. As a gay girl myself, I go back and forth about gay weddings. I feel like it would be hard for me to take it seriously if it were my own. I've said it before, and I'll say it again - gay marriage is weird. Not bad. Not destructive. Just different. Wonderful, amazing, beautiful, and a little weird. But this wedding was so perfect... And Colorado might be my new favorite place:
Allyson and mom:
Lisa and parents:
More:
Unity bouquet:
First dance:
Fun around Colorado:
The Rockies:
A young guy in front of us whose girlfriend was in the wedding confessed that this was his fourth.
A long haired theater kid said this was only his third, but that he was going to two more before the year would be over.
Behind us, a married friend of ours marveled that this was only their second of the year.
I looked and Gina and said, "Yeah, this is our first of the year."
A fashionable (gay) guy sitting next to us said, "My friends aren't really the marrying type."
Gina laughed and said, "Ours either." I added, "The two friends we have that ARE the marrying type have found each other, luckily."
The two friends are Lisa and Allyson. Our first gay wedding ever. I met Lisa about two years ago, and subsequently her girlfriend Allyson, and there never were two people more suited for each other. As a gay girl myself, I go back and forth about gay weddings. I feel like it would be hard for me to take it seriously if it were my own. I've said it before, and I'll say it again - gay marriage is weird. Not bad. Not destructive. Just different. Wonderful, amazing, beautiful, and a little weird. But this wedding was so perfect... And Colorado might be my new favorite place:
Allyson and mom:
Lisa and parents:
More:
Unity bouquet:
First dance:
Fun around Colorado:
The Rockies:
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Birthday
Saturday was my 28th birthday. This is me after a dirty martini, a shot of tequila with Tonya from Real World: Chicago, and four Jack & Diet Cokes (with lots of cherries):
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Ohio.
"Everything is changing here. Every time I come back something is gone that made it not just every other place in the country."
-The Lovely Bones, Alice Sebold
-The Lovely Bones, Alice Sebold
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
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