Oh this broken heart

In honor of Valentine’s day, and as a tribute to Sound Opinions, I am creating my own list of sad love songs.  I am stealing one of their best, but I have room on my list for more.  Suggestions?

  1. Ain’t No Sunshine – Bill Withers
  2. I Don’t Know Why – Stevie Wonder
  3. Eleanor Rigby – Beatles
  4. Nineteen – Old 97s
  5. Lonely Teardrops – Jackie Wilson
  6. Great Pretender – Silver Platters
  7. Iowa – Dar Williams
  8. Pink Triangle – Weezer
  9. Last Kiss – J. Frank

The title is the mix name.

Advertisements

My Business is the Business of Businesses

After responding to an e-vite today, I got a pop-up offering me 250 free business cards or alternative cards.

The first alternative card is a registration card, which I believe you would use in the case of a baby or wedding shower to inform guests where they can buy you the presents you actually want instead of them going ahead with their own ideas and buying you some $100 salt and pepper shakers. So, as a person who had a registry, sure, I approve .

The second alternative card was, um, less straightforward.

Stand-up guy?

Ladies!

So I guess that the situation is that you go on a lot of dates, and if you really like your date you give them your info so they can tweet you later about future dates?  Or maybe they will sext you, but my point is that I get it, I guess.

The third one I felt like was pretty much the weirdest.

My identity revolves around having given birth

Oh god

Maybe this is a feminist thing, or maybe it’s because I’m not a mother, but even if I was a stay-at-home mom with no job (and therefore no reason to already have business cards) I wouldn’t extoll my ability to wipe snotty noses and read bedtime stories as a core part of my persona. As if your main accomplishment is childbirth, and you would like to commemorate your skills with a card detailing your contact info after the names of your offspring. To provide to other moms when you need to carpool, or if they want your ants on a log recipe.

What happened to carrying around a pen and using a receipt?

How are we feeling, Missouri?

Today, I somehow wound up on a mailing list of a group of friends, likely from Kansas City.

First I received this email:

from     Kristin<XXX@gmail.com>
to     Caitlin<XXX@hawks.rockhurst.edu>, Michelle <XXX@gmail.com>, Allie <XXX@gmail.com>, Heidi <XXX@ku.edu>, Alyssa <XXX@gmail.com>, MarsIAm [emphasis mine], Katie, Alicia, Erin
date    Thu, Nov 18, 2010
subject     Puppy!!!
Hi all!!… There is a new member of the Dolan family! A puppy!!  He is a 10 week old maltipoo (maltese/poodle) that we got from a family in Greenwood, Missouri.  His name is Bennett and we live him!
Kristin

Attached was a damn cute photo of Bennett.

so cute, your brain will fall out

Bennett the maltipoo

A few hours later, I got an email from Kathryn (who I know by the bleeped out last name is also Katie from above)

Hi Ladies!!

Hope everyone is ready to celebrate Saturday night with me!!  Just let me know if you guys are going to make it to the Cheesecake Factory so I can call ahead so we don’t have to wait!!! I can’t wait to see all of you!!  And don’t forget to bring your boys too!!  It is going to be so much fun!!

Katie

So, I got emailed a cute dog photo and I’m invited out to dinner to the Kansas City Cheesecake Factory.  All in all, a good day.  All by impersonating others.

Most Wanted

Today via Kristin Schaal, I found this hilarious video, in which we learn how to paint an item based on popular ebay search words.

Lily Sparks, on Thomas Kinkaid

To me, he looks like a little man who should be on a pizza box, trying to sell me a pepperoni pie

On Michelangelo

…don’t tell me there’s a world of difference between me and Michelangelo, because as far as I can tell our paths are identical.

Conceptually (not in execution) it reminds me of America’s Most Wanted Painting, created by Komar and Melmaid

dishwasher size

Pretty much, I need these paintings in my house

A Softer Thought

Extensive reading of A Softer World has lead my brain to compose its thoughts into chunks of two or three.

No amount of make-up can change
that you are beautiful on the inside
Please stop eating my lipstick

I might be stronger than I thought
but maybe it’s the beer that is stronger than I thought
I’m sorry about your car

I haven’t been totally honest with you
in my defense
I did not think you would ever see the original police report

my cat is happiest sitting inside an old box
I wanted you to see for yourself
Please open immediately

Take That

Spring 2006 was a crazy time for me. I’d just been universally rejected from graduate programs. I’d just decided to take on a full-time job for student housing, but only do it part-time while trying to execute a research project in my other part-time. There was an insane heat wave that summer, and the bizarre circulation in the building resulted in my office being 10 degrees hotter than the outdoor temperature. It also made the residents complain to me incessantly, despite the fact that I had no power to install air conditioning – if I did, I certainly would have approved such measures, beginning with my own work space. I was bitter. I was stressed. I was sweaty. So I did what any woman on the edge might do. I started drinking.  Heavily.  Daily.

When I got home, I would pull frosty chunks of ice from a plastic bag in the freezer, and slam them against the bottom of the blender. I would extract some of the smallest pieces and drop them into a cup. I would douse the ice with margarita mix, and dash some triple sec into the blender as well as my cup. I would fill the glass halfway with orange juice, and then give two generous pours of tequila into my drink as well as the blender. Then I would sip my OJ tequila while I blended.

To clarify, I would make a drink to tide me over while I prepared my real drink.

Spring 2009, I had my choice of graduate programs. I had a national fellowship to use at any university of my choice. I was getting married to my best friend in the world.

Three years earlier I had been trapped behind a series of glass walls keeping me from my future. Admissions. Terrible jobs. Self-doubt. Fear.  Suddenly I was empowered, as if I had taken a bat to each obstacle, shattered it thoroughly, and stepped through to the other side.

This was also an era of heavy margarita  consumption, but the nature of the beast had changed. My drinking was largely celebratory, and I ordered them at bars with friends instead of alone in my apartment.

Tequila: cures what ailes ye.