Today I went out shopping and lunching with my mom and sister as part of her post-birthday celebration. We did a little shopping at IKEA and then went over to this sushi place in the strip-mall hell next to the IKEA (seriously, the people in the parking lot of this place are all CRAZY! And in a frenzy to get the.best.parking.spot.)
I was sort of super excited about the sushi because it was the kind on the conveyor belt where you just sit down and start plucking plates of sushi off to eat, which I had never done before. And I was trying my best not to eat too many of the "black plates" because they were all $3.25 each. But there was this eel dish that was a "black plate" dish that my sister and I were both eyeing so we finally decided we'd grab the next one that came around.
:::seeing one coming down the pipe:::
"Ooh, ooh! There is one!" I said and Kristin eagerly swiped it off the conveyor belt. We pulled the lid off and she was immediately all, "Oh. Oohhh. That is bad."
:::leaning over for a closer look:::
"There is a big, curly black hair on the top of that," she says with a grimace.
:::looking around at the cooking and wait staff, all of whom are Asian and have straight, straight hair:::
::::eeewwww::::
"Let's just put it back..."
So we plunk the dish back on the conveyor belt, which was bad because each time I saw another eel plate coming around we would get all excited, scrutinize it further, and be all disappointed because that little black hair was still gleefully lounging on top of the sushi.
So, yes, today's story is a lot of art imitating life ;-) Happy Birthday though Kristin!
Word of the Day: Saturday, January 02, 2010
constitutional
1. A walk taken for one's health.
Marvin tried to disguise his belch behind his hand in an effort of discretion. He wasn't so sure it had been a effective as he had hoped. A pretty young mother, scooting her little girl past him had given him a side-long glance at his flagrant display of flatulence.
Bah, he thought. Fuck it. He was old, at least he looked older than his years, and he found that everyone seemed to cut him extra slack when it came to being elderly. He is old, he is probably losing his mind! Let him belch in public! Everyone knows old people don't have manners!
Marvin shuffled to the end of the sidewalk and turned around. He had excused himself from the table momentarily in between courses, "A man my age needs a mid-meal constitutional. It helps with the digestion problems," he had murmured to his daughter's soon-to-be husband who had nodded politely.
He chuckled to himself, and earned another pointed look from the couple on the bench ahead of him. I hadn't really needed a mid-meal constitutional. He had just noticed that there was a big, curly black hair daintily perched on top of the appetizer course, and he figured it would be an "old man" thing to do to make a fuss over it in public, but didn't want to have to wonder in horror if his ex-wife would unknowingly stick that particular piece of Brie in her mouth.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Friday, January 1, 2010
Happy New Year!
So, every year instead of making one New Year resolution, I make 100 of them.
It is usually at this point that jaws drop and people get all crazed. 100?!?!
Yeah, 100. My theory is this. It is a given that I'll never accomplish all 100 resolutions, but with 100 of them I am bound to be successful at one or two or five of them so there is no pressure to fail at my one New Year resolution. I figure if I hit the 20% mark it has been a pretty good year.
So, the last couple of years I have put "Do the NaNoWriMo in November" (which I have been successful at the last three years thankyouverymuch). However, I didn't put that on my list for 2010.
I put down something much crazier....
#17 - Word of the Day stories - Blog
This is actually something I have wanted to do for a while but have never made the time for, or had the guts to try it. In a nutshell, I have been getting the "Word of the Day" emails from Dictionary.com since for forever and it has always been my idea to write a short story (around on page max!) as a way to learn the word, use the word, retain the meaning blah blah blah. I have a few stories here and there but I have never been self disciplined enough to write every day.
Well, that is the goal this year my friends. A story a day for all of 2010. Nothing like starting the year with grand plans, eh?
Without further ado...
Word of the Day: Friday, January 1, 2010
panacea
1. A remedy for all diseases, problems, or evils; a universal medicine; a cure-all
He stared dully across his living room at the various items of New Year's Eve celebration litter. Horns, hats, and copious amounts of confetti lay discarded amongst empty, lipstick stained champagne glasses. The Christmas tree lights were still on and blinking forlornly over in the corner, although now that he scrutinized the scene it appeared that the tree was on the verge of falling over.
He sat there silently trying to remember if anyone had been too inebriated to drive home, straining his ears for the sound of drunk snoring from one of the back rooms. Nothing. Clearly the biggest blow out party of the year hadn't been the panacea for company that he had been hoping for. Sure, everyone had come over and it had been fun, raucous time full of karaoke, dancing, and he vaguely remembered fireworks, but he had secretly been hoping that there would be someone there in the morning. Anyone. That he would have a guest to cook a big breakfast for. Eggs, scones, a pile of fresh fruit. He had been too self-conscious to invite his guests to breakfast, fearing that they would laugh at his “slumber party” idea.
He stood up, mentally noted that he should take some of the champagne glasses with him to the kitchen, but instead left them standing on the coffee table. He slid the cranberry-lemon scones into the oven for a slight warming and started the espresso maker on the stove. He continued to rattle and bump around the kitchen set on having the breakfast anyway, even if it was just for himself.
A head of messy blonde hair suddenly poked around the kitchen door frame, “Hi,” she said with a sheepish smile, “I, uh, guess I passed out in a closet back there last night?”
He stared, frozen with surprise, looking absurd with both of his arms sticking out in front of him, an oven mitt on one hand and pancake turner in the other.
“Um, I'll get going as soon as I find my, uh, shoes and.....uh, my....” she trailed off her sentence sheepishly, nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
He became increasingly aware that he still had his arms in the air.
The scones were just starting to brown a little, and the heady smell of the espresso was filling the kitchen.
His face broke into a warm smile.
It is usually at this point that jaws drop and people get all crazed. 100?!?!
Yeah, 100. My theory is this. It is a given that I'll never accomplish all 100 resolutions, but with 100 of them I am bound to be successful at one or two or five of them so there is no pressure to fail at my one New Year resolution. I figure if I hit the 20% mark it has been a pretty good year.
So, the last couple of years I have put "Do the NaNoWriMo in November" (which I have been successful at the last three years thankyouverymuch). However, I didn't put that on my list for 2010.
I put down something much crazier....
#17 - Word of the Day stories - Blog
This is actually something I have wanted to do for a while but have never made the time for, or had the guts to try it. In a nutshell, I have been getting the "Word of the Day" emails from Dictionary.com since for forever and it has always been my idea to write a short story (around on page max!) as a way to learn the word, use the word, retain the meaning blah blah blah. I have a few stories here and there but I have never been self disciplined enough to write every day.
Well, that is the goal this year my friends. A story a day for all of 2010. Nothing like starting the year with grand plans, eh?
Without further ado...
Word of the Day: Friday, January 1, 2010
panacea
1. A remedy for all diseases, problems, or evils; a universal medicine; a cure-all
He stared dully across his living room at the various items of New Year's Eve celebration litter. Horns, hats, and copious amounts of confetti lay discarded amongst empty, lipstick stained champagne glasses. The Christmas tree lights were still on and blinking forlornly over in the corner, although now that he scrutinized the scene it appeared that the tree was on the verge of falling over.
He sat there silently trying to remember if anyone had been too inebriated to drive home, straining his ears for the sound of drunk snoring from one of the back rooms. Nothing. Clearly the biggest blow out party of the year hadn't been the panacea for company that he had been hoping for. Sure, everyone had come over and it had been fun, raucous time full of karaoke, dancing, and he vaguely remembered fireworks, but he had secretly been hoping that there would be someone there in the morning. Anyone. That he would have a guest to cook a big breakfast for. Eggs, scones, a pile of fresh fruit. He had been too self-conscious to invite his guests to breakfast, fearing that they would laugh at his “slumber party” idea.
He stood up, mentally noted that he should take some of the champagne glasses with him to the kitchen, but instead left them standing on the coffee table. He slid the cranberry-lemon scones into the oven for a slight warming and started the espresso maker on the stove. He continued to rattle and bump around the kitchen set on having the breakfast anyway, even if it was just for himself.
A head of messy blonde hair suddenly poked around the kitchen door frame, “Hi,” she said with a sheepish smile, “I, uh, guess I passed out in a closet back there last night?”
He stared, frozen with surprise, looking absurd with both of his arms sticking out in front of him, an oven mitt on one hand and pancake turner in the other.
“Um, I'll get going as soon as I find my, uh, shoes and.....uh, my....” she trailed off her sentence sheepishly, nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
He became increasingly aware that he still had his arms in the air.
The scones were just starting to brown a little, and the heady smell of the espresso was filling the kitchen.
His face broke into a warm smile.
Monday, December 21, 2009
So They Say It's Your Birthday!
Snap shots of Tootsie-pop's 9th Birthday:
.....
:::phone vibrating in my pocket:::
I pull the phone out, see it is Ken calling and flip open the phone.
Me: "Hello?"
Ken: "Hello! Wife of mine!"
:::me giggling:::
Me: "Hello! Husband of mine!"
.....
:::Up at Pizza Fino sitting in the window seat eating pizza, spaghetti and meatballs and a pitcher of beer:::
Ken: "Locus. Locii."
Me: "You know, I read this grammar book earlier this year and it was saying it is completely acceptable to just add 's' to the end of those words. Octopuses, and whatnot."
Ken: "Locuses."
Me: "Penis. Penises.....Although I don't know in what situation you'd need to use that in the plural."
Ken: "Lindsey Lohan."
:::me giggling:::
.....
:::Back at home, we have constructed an ice cream sundae for Tootsie-pop complete with flaming candle for her to blow out:::
Me: "Alrighty! A-one, A-two, A-three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine!"
Ken: "Wait! Wait! I have to get the song!"
:::waiting:::
:::The Beatles Birthday song starts up:::
You say it's your birthday
It's my birthday too, yeah
They say it's your birthday
We're gonna have a good time
I'm glad it's your birthday
Happy birthday to you.
:::we all start crazy dancing around the kitchen to the Birthday song:::
.....
Tootsie-pop: "Next year, I want that birthday song instead of the regular birthday song."
HAPPY 9th BIRTHDAY KIDDO!!!
.....
:::phone vibrating in my pocket:::
I pull the phone out, see it is Ken calling and flip open the phone.
Me: "Hello?"
Ken: "Hello! Wife of mine!"
:::me giggling:::
Me: "Hello! Husband of mine!"
.....
:::Up at Pizza Fino sitting in the window seat eating pizza, spaghetti and meatballs and a pitcher of beer:::
Ken: "Locus. Locii."
Me: "You know, I read this grammar book earlier this year and it was saying it is completely acceptable to just add 's' to the end of those words. Octopuses, and whatnot."
Ken: "Locuses."
Me: "Penis. Penises.....Although I don't know in what situation you'd need to use that in the plural."
Ken: "Lindsey Lohan."
:::me giggling:::
.....
:::Back at home, we have constructed an ice cream sundae for Tootsie-pop complete with flaming candle for her to blow out:::
Me: "Alrighty! A-one, A-two, A-three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine!"
Ken: "Wait! Wait! I have to get the song!"
:::waiting:::
:::The Beatles Birthday song starts up:::
You say it's your birthday
It's my birthday too, yeah
They say it's your birthday
We're gonna have a good time
I'm glad it's your birthday
Happy birthday to you.
:::we all start crazy dancing around the kitchen to the Birthday song:::
.....
Tootsie-pop: "Next year, I want that birthday song instead of the regular birthday song."
HAPPY 9th BIRTHDAY KIDDO!!!
Sunday, December 20, 2009
You Can Lead Them to Water....
So, this weekend my family was celebrating the college graduation of my aunt from George Fox University. She has spent the past 35 years taking college credits here and there and has finally worked her way through the remaining slog of credits for her bachelor's degree.
It is a really big deal and a large group of the family showed up at her ceremony to celebrate this amazing achievement.
:::cheering for Teresa!!!:::
Of course, like any small university, the graduation ceremony consisted of the every graduate's name being read out. Bachelors, Masters and Doctoral. When we got to the doctoral graduates they of course take a little longer because of the hooding ceremony.
Now, I remembered when my sister got her Masters hood and I leaned over and whispered to my mom.
Me: "So, what happens to the Masters hood when you get a PhD hood?
Mom: "I don't know..."
Me: "What, the Masters hood is just useless now?"
Mom: :::shrug:::
Mom: "What is the difference between the Masters hood and the PhD hood anyway?"
Me: :::flipping through program:::
Me: (reading directly from the program): "This says the Masters hood is three and a half feet long, and that the PhD hood is four feet long."
:::pause:::
Me: "I guess six inches does make a difference..."
:::my mom dissolving into a fit of hysterics that resulted in both of us needing Kleenx:::
It is a really big deal and a large group of the family showed up at her ceremony to celebrate this amazing achievement.
:::cheering for Teresa!!!:::
Of course, like any small university, the graduation ceremony consisted of the every graduate's name being read out. Bachelors, Masters and Doctoral. When we got to the doctoral graduates they of course take a little longer because of the hooding ceremony.
Now, I remembered when my sister got her Masters hood and I leaned over and whispered to my mom.
Me: "So, what happens to the Masters hood when you get a PhD hood?
Mom: "I don't know..."
Me: "What, the Masters hood is just useless now?"
Mom: :::shrug:::
Mom: "What is the difference between the Masters hood and the PhD hood anyway?"
Me: :::flipping through program:::
Me: (reading directly from the program): "This says the Masters hood is three and a half feet long, and that the PhD hood is four feet long."
:::pause:::
Me: "I guess six inches does make a difference..."
:::my mom dissolving into a fit of hysterics that resulted in both of us needing Kleenx:::
Thursday, December 17, 2009
One of Those Days
So, the other day I was just having one of THOSE days.
It started off with my H1N1 vaccination shot, which lead to me feeling sort of crappy towards the end of the work day so I took off a little early and promptly fell asleep on the bus ride home. I didn't even THINK about picking up the gift card I was supposed to buy that evening on my way home from work (I remembered in an "OH CRAP" moment about four hours later.
:::aaahhhh!:::
I finally got home, I cleaned the house up and then went up to the store to buy ingredients for scones that I was going to make for a birthday party at work the next day. I proceeded to make the scone recipe TWICE and both times they didn't rise and were doughy disgusting messes (I'm blaming out of date cream of tartar on this one). Of course, two batches of baking requires two batches of kitchen clean up, which....yay! And somehow one of the dishes slipped out of my hand and shattered in the sink.
:::sigh:::
In the mean time we were trying to get our family photo taken for our Christmas card. We set up the self-timer on the camera, we smiled and squished together, and in the end.....we had no really good photo to show for it. Tootsie-pop thought it was HYSTERICAL this year to make faces and ruin the photos, or to smile manically which also ruined the photo.
:::grrrr:::
Fuck it. I thought, I 'll see if I can crop out the flowers that magically appeared in the corner of the first photo we took. Except Ritz Camera's website was not jiving with iPhoto and wouldn't search the photo library.
:::unbelievable:::
I was hoping that going to bed would put an end to my bad day run, but it turns out I was in the midst of a bad day hangover. Tootsie-pop was running late, although it turns out it was ACTUALLY a late start day for school that morning and we were actually supposed to be dropping her off with her mom....in downtown. Not North Portland where we were actually at.
:::aaaaahhhhh!:::
So, I call Ken, and we coordinate for me to pick him up, get him and Tootsie-pop together and I'll drive them into work. So, I turn the car around and start heading to the bus stop Ken got off at.
And this is when the dog ran across the street.
It ran in front of the car in front of me and we both slammed on our brakes and didn't hit the dog, but it then turned around and ran back into traffic where it was hit by a car in the other lane going awfully fast.
I closed my eyes.
Tires squealing, dog yelping, and everyone just froze.
Two women across the street (the owners?) are crying in each others arms, the dog appears from under the car, ALIVE and bewildered, but clearly with a hurt leg. Another woman is gently trying to coax the dog out of the street.
The car in front of me slowly drives off and I follow. We see Ken about a half mile up the road, and pull over to pick him up.
I promptly burst into tears.
The whole thing has been weighing really heavily on my mind the last couple of days.
We all have those days where things just aren't clicking, everything is slowly grating on your last nerve, and you just can't seem to sigh deeply or enough to get that weight off of your chest. The To-Do list keeps growing even as you are working your ass off, trying to get everything done, and then...POW...you get a knocked right in the face with the REAL things to worry about.
All those things don't matter. The ruined scones? I bought some pastries and they were delicious. The forgotten gift card? Turns out you can buy virtual gift cards online and have them emailed out. The broken dish? The garbage can is right under the sink. The piles of dishes? That is what the "Kitchen Cleaning Music" play list is for. The late start day at school? We all got downtown in time.
The looking out for your loved ones, two or four legged?
Give them all a hug right now, because that one isn't always so easy to fix.
It started off with my H1N1 vaccination shot, which lead to me feeling sort of crappy towards the end of the work day so I took off a little early and promptly fell asleep on the bus ride home. I didn't even THINK about picking up the gift card I was supposed to buy that evening on my way home from work (I remembered in an "OH CRAP" moment about four hours later.
:::aaahhhh!:::
I finally got home, I cleaned the house up and then went up to the store to buy ingredients for scones that I was going to make for a birthday party at work the next day. I proceeded to make the scone recipe TWICE and both times they didn't rise and were doughy disgusting messes (I'm blaming out of date cream of tartar on this one). Of course, two batches of baking requires two batches of kitchen clean up, which....yay! And somehow one of the dishes slipped out of my hand and shattered in the sink.
:::sigh:::
In the mean time we were trying to get our family photo taken for our Christmas card. We set up the self-timer on the camera, we smiled and squished together, and in the end.....we had no really good photo to show for it. Tootsie-pop thought it was HYSTERICAL this year to make faces and ruin the photos, or to smile manically which also ruined the photo.
:::grrrr:::
Fuck it. I thought, I 'll see if I can crop out the flowers that magically appeared in the corner of the first photo we took. Except Ritz Camera's website was not jiving with iPhoto and wouldn't search the photo library.
:::unbelievable:::
I was hoping that going to bed would put an end to my bad day run, but it turns out I was in the midst of a bad day hangover. Tootsie-pop was running late, although it turns out it was ACTUALLY a late start day for school that morning and we were actually supposed to be dropping her off with her mom....in downtown. Not North Portland where we were actually at.
:::aaaaahhhhh!:::
So, I call Ken, and we coordinate for me to pick him up, get him and Tootsie-pop together and I'll drive them into work. So, I turn the car around and start heading to the bus stop Ken got off at.
And this is when the dog ran across the street.
It ran in front of the car in front of me and we both slammed on our brakes and didn't hit the dog, but it then turned around and ran back into traffic where it was hit by a car in the other lane going awfully fast.
I closed my eyes.
Tires squealing, dog yelping, and everyone just froze.
Two women across the street (the owners?) are crying in each others arms, the dog appears from under the car, ALIVE and bewildered, but clearly with a hurt leg. Another woman is gently trying to coax the dog out of the street.
The car in front of me slowly drives off and I follow. We see Ken about a half mile up the road, and pull over to pick him up.
I promptly burst into tears.
The whole thing has been weighing really heavily on my mind the last couple of days.
We all have those days where things just aren't clicking, everything is slowly grating on your last nerve, and you just can't seem to sigh deeply or enough to get that weight off of your chest. The To-Do list keeps growing even as you are working your ass off, trying to get everything done, and then...POW...you get a knocked right in the face with the REAL things to worry about.
All those things don't matter. The ruined scones? I bought some pastries and they were delicious. The forgotten gift card? Turns out you can buy virtual gift cards online and have them emailed out. The broken dish? The garbage can is right under the sink. The piles of dishes? That is what the "Kitchen Cleaning Music" play list is for. The late start day at school? We all got downtown in time.
The looking out for your loved ones, two or four legged?
Give them all a hug right now, because that one isn't always so easy to fix.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
The Christmas Spirit: Part 2
So, I was out Christmas shopping today.
I had meant to meet up with my sister and things sort of went awry and I figured, since I was ALREADY downtown, I might as well knock out as much gift shopping as I could.
The problem was....it was horrible.
Ken and I have spent the last couple of years getting rid of as much STUFF as we can manage, and the last thing I wanted to do this Christmas was to buy my family more STUFF. Yet there I was today, buying STUFF.
And I remember, walking through Pioneer Square Mall, and looking over at the glitzy, pretty window display at the Bebe store and admiring the cute, sassy outfits they had put together with well coordinated accessories and thinking to myself, "I am seduced by that window display." I know how smart marketing campaigns are, and I know that I am susceptible to them. Seriously, left to my own devices (aka Ken didn't choose our wine) we would be drinking butt-loads of crappy wine with beautiful labels. I know that I don't want to partake in the buying-stuff-for-the-sake-of-having-stuff lifestyle, yet I didn't manage to dig myself out of that mindset this Christmas season.
I love Christmas time. I love decorating my house with Christmas decorations. I love driving around and seeing the Christmas lights my neighbors have hung up. I love getting together with my family. I love cooking for Christmas (I just made this and it is EVERY SORT of amazing). I love Christmas lights and Christmas music. I love it all.
I have just grown sick of the STUFF.
As Ken and I sat at one of our favorite NoPo pubs tonight we were discussing this very thing, and trying to come up with a plan for freeing ourselves from THE STUFF in the future.
Life, and our life together is such a good thing. Why is it so hard to get out of THE STUFF mindset?
I had meant to meet up with my sister and things sort of went awry and I figured, since I was ALREADY downtown, I might as well knock out as much gift shopping as I could.
The problem was....it was horrible.
Ken and I have spent the last couple of years getting rid of as much STUFF as we can manage, and the last thing I wanted to do this Christmas was to buy my family more STUFF. Yet there I was today, buying STUFF.
And I remember, walking through Pioneer Square Mall, and looking over at the glitzy, pretty window display at the Bebe store and admiring the cute, sassy outfits they had put together with well coordinated accessories and thinking to myself, "I am seduced by that window display." I know how smart marketing campaigns are, and I know that I am susceptible to them. Seriously, left to my own devices (aka Ken didn't choose our wine) we would be drinking butt-loads of crappy wine with beautiful labels. I know that I don't want to partake in the buying-stuff-for-the-sake-of-having-stuff lifestyle, yet I didn't manage to dig myself out of that mindset this Christmas season.
I love Christmas time. I love decorating my house with Christmas decorations. I love driving around and seeing the Christmas lights my neighbors have hung up. I love getting together with my family. I love cooking for Christmas (I just made this and it is EVERY SORT of amazing). I love Christmas lights and Christmas music. I love it all.
I have just grown sick of the STUFF.
As Ken and I sat at one of our favorite NoPo pubs tonight we were discussing this very thing, and trying to come up with a plan for freeing ourselves from THE STUFF in the future.
Life, and our life together is such a good thing. Why is it so hard to get out of THE STUFF mindset?
Saturday, December 12, 2009
The Christmas Spirit
So, I like Christmas and I like to decorate my house for Christmas. I'm also a rather crafty person. And that being gluing-popsicle-sticks-together crafty, not plotting-devious-schemes crafty. So I have made a lot of my own Christmas decorations, including the Christmas wreath that I hang on the front door.
So it was particularly upsetting when the fucking wreath got stolen off of the front door the other morning while we were getting ready for work. What KILLS me is that I HEARD it happen, a sort of scratching noise at the door and the cats were peeking at something through their crack in the curtain and I didn't go out and look out the door because I just thought it was someone putting a flier on the door knob, not someone stealing my HAND MADE Christmas wreath.
So this morning I was all Merry Fucking Christmas, stupid trash fucking North Portland. Where you can't throw a Christmas wreath without hitting some sort of ignorant, loud-mouthed, poorly raised, shit for brains, punk-assed kid running around. And all these kids are running around because their ignorant, loud-mouthed, poorly raised, shit for brains, punk-assed parents are just as bad if not worse. Yay, North Portland you rock! And by rock I mean completely suck ass!
Anyway, I digress.
So, I went in for a hair appointment that same morning near Pioneer Square and I'm doing the snippy, blow drying, hair goo styling thing and whining about my wreath a little bit, but am starting to feel a little better about it, but still completely Bah Humbug about people in general. I mean, HELLO! The Christmas Spirit people! Does not include stealing wreathes!
Anyway, so the thing about my hair appointment is that I chopped off all my hair, probably a good nine inches and I decided to save the pony tail and donate it to Lock of Love.
So, I walk out of the salon with this little paper bag full of hair and I run into the "Macy's Crew" across the street. I had seen them before the cross walk light had changed and they were all dressed up like elves and handing fliers out
:::sigh:::
but I have to walk by them to get to my bus stop, so I just decide to deal with it and be nice to them, so when they solicit me I smile and stop to talk to them.
"Have you ever done a good deed?" the elf girl asks me, "Ever given blood?"
"Oh, yeah, of course," I tell her, "I actually have a bag full of hair right here I am going to donate," I add opening up my paper bag.
"That is great! Have a $25 gift certificate to Macy's for your good deed!" she exclaims handing me a gift card.
:::sort of shocked by this:::
"She is donating hair!" the elf girl says to the rest of her crew.
The photographer requests that I hold up my gift certificate and smile for the camera, and then asks my name and where I am from.
"North Portland" I hear myself say. See that NoPo? Even though you totally suck ass, I am trying to shine up your image.
But truth be told, the whole rewarding of the good deeds thing at Macy's did make me feel a lot better about my stolen wreath. I mean, these are essentially the two opposite sides of humanity. The ugly side and the optimistic side.
And even though I totally fantasized all day about what if I had opened the front door when I heard the noise that morning and saw the wreath being stolen, and then chased down the culprit and proceeded to beat the shit out of him with the empty wreath hanger, at least I can feel good about the fact that I am still a decent person who does try to make the world a little bit better.
Although later the only thing I could think about was...
:::oh, please Photoshop out the big zit on my chin for whatever advertising campaign this photo is going to end up in:::
So it was particularly upsetting when the fucking wreath got stolen off of the front door the other morning while we were getting ready for work. What KILLS me is that I HEARD it happen, a sort of scratching noise at the door and the cats were peeking at something through their crack in the curtain and I didn't go out and look out the door because I just thought it was someone putting a flier on the door knob, not someone stealing my HAND MADE Christmas wreath.
So this morning I was all Merry Fucking Christmas, stupid trash fucking North Portland. Where you can't throw a Christmas wreath without hitting some sort of ignorant, loud-mouthed, poorly raised, shit for brains, punk-assed kid running around. And all these kids are running around because their ignorant, loud-mouthed, poorly raised, shit for brains, punk-assed parents are just as bad if not worse. Yay, North Portland you rock! And by rock I mean completely suck ass!
Anyway, I digress.
So, I went in for a hair appointment that same morning near Pioneer Square and I'm doing the snippy, blow drying, hair goo styling thing and whining about my wreath a little bit, but am starting to feel a little better about it, but still completely Bah Humbug about people in general. I mean, HELLO! The Christmas Spirit people! Does not include stealing wreathes!
Anyway, so the thing about my hair appointment is that I chopped off all my hair, probably a good nine inches and I decided to save the pony tail and donate it to Lock of Love.
So, I walk out of the salon with this little paper bag full of hair and I run into the "Macy's Crew" across the street. I had seen them before the cross walk light had changed and they were all dressed up like elves and handing fliers out
:::sigh:::
but I have to walk by them to get to my bus stop, so I just decide to deal with it and be nice to them, so when they solicit me I smile and stop to talk to them.
"Have you ever done a good deed?" the elf girl asks me, "Ever given blood?"
"Oh, yeah, of course," I tell her, "I actually have a bag full of hair right here I am going to donate," I add opening up my paper bag.
"That is great! Have a $25 gift certificate to Macy's for your good deed!" she exclaims handing me a gift card.
:::sort of shocked by this:::
"She is donating hair!" the elf girl says to the rest of her crew.
The photographer requests that I hold up my gift certificate and smile for the camera, and then asks my name and where I am from.
"North Portland" I hear myself say. See that NoPo? Even though you totally suck ass, I am trying to shine up your image.
But truth be told, the whole rewarding of the good deeds thing at Macy's did make me feel a lot better about my stolen wreath. I mean, these are essentially the two opposite sides of humanity. The ugly side and the optimistic side.
And even though I totally fantasized all day about what if I had opened the front door when I heard the noise that morning and saw the wreath being stolen, and then chased down the culprit and proceeded to beat the shit out of him with the empty wreath hanger, at least I can feel good about the fact that I am still a decent person who does try to make the world a little bit better.
Although later the only thing I could think about was...
:::oh, please Photoshop out the big zit on my chin for whatever advertising campaign this photo is going to end up in:::
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