Oh! The little deers

I was cruising home through the Friday evening bumper-to-bumper traffic in Monroeville, trying to get on 376, when I spotted two fawns galloping around an island of grass, freaking out as the cars whizzed by less than 10 feet away. It's that kind of thing that reminds me of how girly I can be, or at least my reaction to it. Squealing. Covering my mouth with my hands, giggling "oh my goodness, sooooo cute" and not watching the road.

I'm getting to really enjoy my car. It's a nice escape from work, my own private little bubble of color, light and sound, and I rather like tooling around like a madwoman (although somebody honked their horn at me today when I blew through the intersection in Edgewood as the green left-hand-turn arrow disappeared). Too bad it's a gigantic gas guzzler, and I still can't parallel park (I gave a huge love-tap to the car in front of me trying to park in front of my apartment. I was stuck up on the curb for like 5 minutes before I was able to get out and try again. I was starting to gather a crowd of helpful onlookers. *blush*)

And oh shiznat, I got a voicemail from painter-lady who says she wants to paint that fireplace starting Wednesday morning, and I am still being employed in Monroeville from 8-5. I thought I might ask if I could take half a day off and come in late or something, since I'm doing things faster than they expected, but I hesitate. They seem laid back, but that's a pretty rude thing for a *temp* to do. I suppose I could make up a family emergency or something. I'm just working on a project, not like I'm answering phones or anything. Well, I could always ask, I guess. Feh.

Now with titles

Blogger has a sexy new template, and I figured out how to add titles to my posts. Because user friendliness is my biggest problem here.

I tried to post my religion results but it makes blogger eat itself. I'll sum up. 100% Unitarian Universalist, 96% Neo-Pagan. I got neo-pagan as an answer for emode's religion quiz, too. Need to get me that Book of Shadows.

I've been working in Monroeville starting yesterday on a 2 week assignment. It's kind of fun, fighting with Word makes the hours fly. I'm afraid I'm working too fast and running out of job, tho, and my chair is very loud.

Lovely today. I ate lunch outside on the grass, in the shade of a big tree. Still managed to get sunburned.

Applied for jobs at Lane Bryant, Brookstone and Kauffman's yesterday. Pet store today. So desperate for steady income, but yay for $800 from the current job (minus taxes, but still. Yay).

I am being forced into a non-nocturnal schedule, and it hurts. Badly. Coffee is now a requirement.

Just finished reading Order of the Phoenix. B&N called this afternoon to say that it was in, so I picked it up, started reading around 4 or 5 pm and just finished, 12 hours later (870 pages). I took a few bathroom/snack/meal breaks so it wasn't quite straight through, but close enough.

Wow. Just... wow. It's a lot to take in. I had the fleeting thought that I should read it again, since so much happened, and then realized what I was thinking and laughed at myself.

Perhaps at a slightly more... sedate pace.

Whew.

What a useful site. I never knew something like this existed.

CIA World Factbook.

Just got back from Geagling with a bag of baked Doritos (so happy). Pulled out a cheesewad - there may be some chip in there, but it mainly looks like a giant wad-o-powder cheese. Kind of like that giant Cheeto that was making all the headlines. Not quite so impressive, though.

It reminds me of the Fried Fried Fried that Ayako found in our O-Fries one time. It was just this ball of.... fried. Fried what? We didn't know. I said it could be a cockroach, or a piece of rat, or something, but Ayako ate it. I couldn't believe it. I watched in shock as she crunched on the Fried Fried Fried. You could *hear* the grease.

She left me a voicemail this morning. A rather irate voicemail, wondering why the hell I hadn't returned her calls for the past 2 weeks, and if there was something wrong with me or if I suddenly began hating her for some reason.

I get that a lot. I have some sort of lesion on the part of my brain that most people use to remember names, birthdays, and to call people back. I do it to everybody. EVERYBODY. There is no rhyme or reason.

**half an hour later**

Just talked to Ayako, and we got on the topic of men (of course). I remembered the link I had once shown her of Valerie Solanas' (she shot Andy Warhol) SCUM Manifesto, which I think I got from my friend Amy, the uber-feminist cheerleader (yay). I dedicate this one to all the ladies out there who keep complaining that all men are penile-minded shallow assholes who are incapable of feeling human emotion, and wondering where the hell all the decent guys are. Apparently, it's due to the fact that "The male is a biological accident: the Y (male) gene is an incomplete X (female) gene, that is, it has an incomplete set of chromosomes. In other words, the male is an incomplete female, a walking abortion, aborted at the gene stage. To be male is to be deficient, emotionally limited; maleness is a deficiency disease and males are emotional cripples."

The fact that I am currently hormonal has nothing to do with me enjoying this manifesto so much. Grrr. (And no, I don't take this seriously, nor do I believe most women do. It's fun to read, though.)

Didn't make it to the Harry Potter party last night, as Laura fell asleep (and I thought it rude to awaken her for something she's not interested in, anyway). I went there this afternoon and they are, of course, sold out (they would have been last night, too, I didn't think to reserve one) so I'm on the waiting list and should expect a call on Monday. In the meantime, I'll be trying to dodge spoilers. Cry.

Met with Lynn Smith, muralist extraordinaire today. She said she'd be willing to try to work with me on an upcoming project - marbelizing a very large fireplace in July. She also recommended that I e-mail the editor of the post gazette home section about an article he's doing on Pittsburgh muralists, to find more jobs.

Before I shot off the e-mail, though, I updated my portfolio page. I was full of boundless energy while coding so it went quickly. After a while I realized that I was so hyper because all I'd had to eat today was a Frappucino. Whee!

Laura and I just finished rearranging the kitchen, culminating in a Friday night dish exodus from our respective bedrooms. We're thinking of making it a competition - whoever has more dishes during the Friday Night Dish Exodus has to load the dishwasher.

And I'm reconsidering Jeff's idea to put at least one of our computers in the main room, since we're both bedroom hermits. Maybe once we have furniture, we'll be more apt to spend time out there.

#spastic# 3.5 more hours till Harry Potter. #/spastic#

Wh00t.

What's up frigidaire. You are
16%
pickup-able! You're cold and unapproachable, like a big glacier that's unapproachable. And cold. Unlike the Arctic tundra, few even venture to plant their flag in you. You're definitely not a Scorpio, unless you were born between October 23 and November 21. The bad news is that you'll end up miserable and alone, probably knitting doilies out of cat hair. The good news is that this is apparently what you want. Honestly, I don't even feel comfortable talking to you right now, so I'm just gonna go… yeah… wash my friend's hair.

people more pickup-able than you (99%)
people just as pickup-able as you (0%)
people less pickup-able than you (0%)

Based on the 1,150,058 submissions before you.

Hells yeah. Now if only my friends could master my arctic frigidity, I wouldn't have to keep consoling them when they get molested. (j/k)

I can't hold it in anymore. I am so fucking excited about the Harry Potter book coming out tomorrow night that I spontaneously start giggling and clapping my hands at the thought. Seriously considering going to B&N for the midnight party to get my hands on a copy ASAP (using my non-money) and staying up all night to read it. Yes, I will fight my way through the costumed frea..uh, fans to get at my OOTP.

Carolyn and I went to the 3 Rivers Arts Festival yesterday. We walked through the stalls, didn't buy anything (both broke and jobless) except junk food. Unfortunately this group of artists was at least half photography and jewelry, although they had the occasional offbeat cool stuff. One creepy stall had realistic mice, cockroaches and vulture sculptures, plus a horseshoe crab shell with a face painted on it. I was intrigued but Carolyn was creeped so we moved on.

Afterwards we hit Whole Foods to get supplies for Zucchini Fritta night, picked up a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and went back to Hobart to slice, bread and fry. Good stuff, and I now have another way to cook veggies. This week has had more instances of drinking than ever before in my life. Not necessarily volume, mind you.

I'm meeting with Ms. Muralist tomorrow afternoon in the Starbucks on Forbes/Shady. The last time I met someone in a Starbucks was in high school for some important school thing that I didn't get (my interview for Princeton, maybe?). Hopefully this time will go better. Wish me luck.

Possible job on the horizon. I'm meeting with a muralist who works in the Pittsburgh area to see if she would want an assistant/apprentice/contractor. To that end, I finally got some pics of the work I did with Lisa this summer. Unfortunately not of the whole room - maybe when I get around to fixing my digital camera (and thereby getting the pics off of the memory card) I can show more.

And this is dedicated to Ayako. *shudder*

Had a Big Day Out with Carolyn G. today. I picked her up this afternoon and headed for the South Side. Must have walked the length of the Carson Street shops 3 or 4 times. I picked up applications from the Bead Mine and E-House and then left them at Taco Loco, idiot that I am. After dinner and more walking we hit Grecianland Pastries (remember that place?) for coffee and dessert. And lots of talking. Boys, mothers, high school, body image, anything else that came to mind. Afterwards we came back to Hobart and rented Empire Records and Touch of Evil (although I recommend The Third Man for Orson Welles film noir, if you have the choice). Ms. Griffel mixed us up some Amaretto Sours from my newly extended liquor collection (liberated from Beeler) and we finished up around 3 am.

Willy needs to go to Inner Vision for their knives and Groovy for their comic books/action figures/large amounts of toys. Everyone else should go to the Culture Shop and E-house.

Lots of pretty things I can't afford strengthens my job search resolve, which unfortunately all but dissipated last week, to my great disgust. Also, I want to go to Greece. Good night.

I've always known I was a geek. I had hoped that it would become less prominent, eventually, but it appears that the combination of a decent computer in my room and an excess of time has proved the opposite.

I'm working on a couple of pieces of fantasy art in my (all too vast amounts of) spare time, hoping eventually to throw them up someplace like deviant art and see what kind of comments I get. The pic above is the first shade layer of something I plan to call curiosity - you can't see him yet, but the dragon is holding up a kitten by the scruff of the neck for inspection. Hopefully it'll come off as cute, and not horrible (I didn't intend to imply the second half of the cliche).

I e-mailed a couple of trompe l'loeil painters (that is *such* a bitch to spell) today to see if they wanted an apprentice. I get the feeling painting walls would be preferable to working at the 'O', who is, consequently, hiring. I can't help but think that would be on the same level as meatpacking. I should just go work at a slaughterhouse, for chrissakes.

That thought makes the fact that I applied to Starbucks last week slightly more palatable. Slightly.

I've beginning to think I will never have clean clothing. The washers in the basement haven't accepted quarters in 2 weeks, and I was in desperate need of laundry before then. If I had money I'd be buying new clothes.

I've been flashing back to the mid-90s today. I discovered, while unpacking, a shoebox full of old tapes I dubbed in high school. Wow. I forgot how good alternative radio used to be. Especially when it comes to chick rock - who do we have now, Evanescence and the Donnas? Pssh. On my girl-band tape I had the Cowboy Junkies, Portishead, Bjork, Elastica, Hole, the Juliana Hatfield 3, Liz Phair, Veruca Salt, Babes in Toyland, the Breeders, Sonic Youth and PJ Harvey. What happened to female-lead bands? No wonder all the 14 year old girls nowadays flock to Avril Lavigne. Jeezus.

I'm itching to do some mural painting. Or any painting/drawing, for that matter. If anyone wants to trade me some cash for art, let me know. I take requests. Please?