Ode to the Number Seven Bus

Reason number 437 to love Seattle: Every year we hold a poetry competition for the city's buses. Isn't it a little nicer to read a poem during your commute than yet another advertisement?

50 words or less, due this Friday. Apply here!

A realization at 9:14 in the morning

Tea, no matter how strong you might make it or how fancy-schmancy the brand might be, is a crushingly lame, disappointing and unfufilling substitute for coffee.

I'm just sayin'

I'm just sayin' that "I Heart Huckabees" was one of the strangest, sickest, funniest and more challenging movies I've seen in a long-ass time, and that if Jason Schwartzman ever finds himself into Seattle and looking for someone to have a beer and some quiet conversation with, I might be able to hook him up with someone, except that certain someone will probably just talk his ear off about how much he's grown up since Rushmore and how she barely recognized him in that opening seen of Huckabees, but in a good way, you know, and if ever he's looking for someone who won't judge him if he wants to put on that green velvet suit from Rushmore as part of a nostalgia thing, not a sick weird trapped-in-the-past thing, then she won't judge him or think less of him, not one bit. She might even like it.

I'm just sayin'.

What a Girl Wants

Sometimes a girl gets tired of reading hipster fiction and she just chucks that weathered Don DeLillo over against the David Foster Wallace section of her Ikea bookshelf and throws up her hands.

Sometimes a girl wants to go out and look through the self help section of her local bookstore and buy up a dozen or so titles to help rejuvenate her life and magically solve every problem she might have been suffering with over the past twenty years.

Which is where our friend the public library comes in. Unlike that episode of Sex and the City where Charlotte realizes she can use Amazon to anonymously buy her embarrassing relationship books, my new friend the public library is even better because I can get them for FREE without having the added stigma of having a whole bookshelf at home devoted to all of my intimate flaws/personal issues for every houseguest to scrounge through.

God, I feel brilliant.

I'm a Giver

Oh Friends. Don't say I never give ya nothin'.

For those of you who would like some more hot blogging action, what could be better than William Shatner's blog? Or Melanie Griffith's blog? Or, for the love of God, RuPaul's blog?

Actually, I can say that the Melanie Griffith blog, and entire site for that matter, is, ahem, WORTH CHECKING OUT. Let's just say that. See for yourself.

No thanks, just lookin'

I am feeling especially mature and adult today because yesterday afternoon I found myself walking through my favorite music store snapping up CD's left and right (The Delays! The Stills! New Elliott Smith! New Matador collection! Interpol! My God, is there no end is sight?) when a cool wave of logic came over me and I realized, Beth, you have bills to pay. You cannot drop a hundred random dollars on CD's when your cable bill is due. If you have money left after the cable bill, then you may come back.

And yet there's a giant peice of me that really, really, really just wants to turn off my cable and listen to Elliott Smith all night. Siiiiigh. Dammit, this was downright RESPONSIBLE of me.

Note to Self

Beth,

The next time you are out of food -- and I mean out of everything possible edible item in your house -- don't try and buy everything all at once and carry it home, even if you do live four blocks away. You will find yourself cursing at your grocery bags like a deranged freak and have to stop every half block to rearrange the spaghetti squash that keeps banging you in the knee.

Let's just take this as a lesson that smaller, more frequent trips are best.

Your pal,
Beth

Newfound Skills

Today I drove one of those funky hybrid cars and MAN those things are cool. They're easy to drive, which is a bonus for a car-retard like myself, and you just feel good driving one around. Like you're doing something good for the earth simply by going out and doing your errands. Just another reason to give a big fat hug to Flexcar. Love you guys.

Also, I learned, albeit clumsily, how to pill a cat. Wish there were more ways I could apply this knowledge to my everyday life. Then again, who says there's not?

Well HUH

Let's not get into how I came across this, but China's oldest inheritress of the Nushu language, probably the world's only female-specific language, died last month.

Clearly this isn't a new thing, but it's the first I've heard of it. Discovery News also did a story on the Nushu language earlier in the year. FASINATING.

Further Smugness

Today I wore a grass green scarf that I actually knit myself.

Questions I would like to ask my cat Teddy Bear

1.) What's the deal with that whole sitting-in-the-middle-of-the-bathtub thing you do?
2.) WHAT IS UP WITH ALL THE POKING AND MEOWING?
3.) Is there ever a time when you actually have enough food in you?
4.) Do you ever wish you had a slightly more bad-ass name than, say, Teddy Bear?
5.) Do you enjoy watching America's Next Top Model as much as I do?
6.) You're not judging me, are you?

Yurt Yurt Yurt!

Of course, what do I come down with, a mere two days after adopting a new cat, but a bad-ass case of the Travel Bug.

Thinking a weekend trip to the coast is in order - they have yurts for rent there -- or perhaps a less rustic getaway to Casa Crayola -- I mean HOW CUTE IS THIS PLACE? I am feeling like a change of scenery is in order, just for a few days. Now I just need to try and explain that to the cat....

Meet Teddy Bear

And so it is with great joy that I introduce the world to Teddy Bear, an 18-pound purring behemoth that could be used as an ottoman in a pinch if the need arises.

Clearly my original plan to adopt a (1) male (2) kitten (3) after the holidays is shot all to hell. But one look at this face and I knew that She Had To Be Mine. She's a little sniffly and scrappy around the edges thanks to a nasty respiratory infection, but I think with some TLC, this plus-sized lady will be quite lovely.

Alternative, less saccharin, names for Teddy Bear are being welcomed for consideration.

Smuggy Smuggerson

I am smug, if you can't tell.

Last night I cracked open a jar of pickled green beans that I made a while back, and they were delish, if not a little overly dill-y. If they were tucked inside of a spicy bloody mary, I might have keeled over with giddiness.

Damn, I can feel the holiday craftiness starting to percolate.

Organic Lessons Learned

Need to share that I attempted to be all organic and farm-y this week and went to the newly-launched Capital Hill Farmer's Market. It gets a big shoulder shrug and a "HUH" from Beth.

First off, it consisted of about a dozen stalls. Perhaps in my enthusiasm I was expecting miles and miles of tents and booths and craft stalls that went as far as the eye could see. This is clearly not the case. It's ten card tables in a small parking lot. That's IT.

Secondly, I purchased 3 Asian pears and 4 peaches. It came to $8. To my surprise, the fruits did not have gold coins hidden inside of them. Clearly I am naive about how much organic fruit costs.

Lesson learned: Save yourself the bitterness and walk the mile down the hill to the Pike Place Market, which DOES go on for miles and miles (sort of) and where you can buy a week's worth of produce for $10.

"Nothing in life is wasted provided we are not bitter." (Seen in Vancouver) 

Season Four: A Recap

So Joey and Pacey are back from their three months at sea and they're all, YAH WE ARE BACK AND WE ARE IN LOVE except Dawson is all furrowed brow and bad hair and all, YAH, I AM SO SULKY AND WOUNDED AND DUDE I HAVE FEELINGS TOO YOU KNOW?

And then Andie and Jen and Jack and Gran said some stuff that I fast forwarded through.

And sadly, that about sums it up to date. I'm all, YAH I AM NOT IMPRESSED.

The List

So I've been going off lately about how Fall has that "new year" feeling to it and as such, I've come up with an enormo-list of things I'd like to accomplish over the next twelve months. An abbreviated version is below.

If you've got suggestions/additions, BRING 'EM ON. If you've got a list of your own to share, PONY UP.

1.) Give more random gifts to people
2.) Go to DC and see the Wee One
3.) Go to San Diego and see the Wee Ones
4.) Learn about meditation
5.) Buy real furniture that's not made of particleboard (Sorry, IKEA, it was fun)
6.) Skinny dip
7.) Join a writing group
8.) Make homemade salt or sugar scrub
9.) Make a peice of pottery
10.) Take a photography class

The Power of Perspective

So I've had a good 24 hours to sit and think about my crappy weekend and what I am now referring to as "the episode at the spa." And now I'm actually laughing about the ridiculousness of my situation.

1.) Dude, you were at a SPA. You are actually complaining about what happened to you during your FACIAL. That's pretty high on the International Life Could Most Definitely Be Worse list.

2.) Even if my masseuse/facialist WAS being judgemental and condescending (again I stress the ridiculousness of saying "my masseuse/facialist"), I have to remember that no one makes you feel inferior without your consent.

Crabby Pants

Back from Vancouver and trying to get out of vacation-mode and into real-life mode. It's a tough process.

The weekend left me feeling out of sorts. The spa experience was not its usual warm and fuzzy self and instead left me feeling...judged. Looked down upon. Maybe it was just my broken-out chin making me feel self conscious. Maybe I just didn't jive with my spa lady. I'm a little down tonight after the whole experience and also because of the fact that a day at the SPA made me so down about myself in the first place. There's something deeply snarky about that.

To bed now to sleep off this sulky, whiny, crabby feeling.

Oversharing

Can I just (over)share that I am wearing the world's most uncomfortable bra today?

This makes Beth grouchy.
Beth needs to get her ass on vacation muy rapido.

The Plan, Stan

The agenda for a trip to Vancouver with Beth (as several people can attest to):

1.) Start your day by going to Lush and getting all sorts of smelly girlie bathy goodness.
2.) Eat at Hon's on Robson. Get the wonton soup. Eat shrimp dumplings. Overdo it on the hot chili oil and swear that you're never going to do that again. Do it again the next time you go.
3.) Eat at Tsunami Sushi with the floating boats. Drink sake. Get tipsy.
4.) Walk your slightly tipsy self over to Chapters. Buy lots of mind-numbing Chick Lit books that you can't find the States. Say the phrase "I just can't FIND these in the STATES" like you're in some exotic far off country and not 3 hours up the highway from your house.
5.) Get a massage at Skoah, the world's best spa.
6.) Feel very underdressed and sloppy because you're not wearing (a) fur (b) vinyl or (c) couture .

Repeat every 3-6 months as necessary.

Back to Capeside

In an effort to prove how ridiculously LITTLE street cred I have, I need to point out that Season Four of Dawson's Creek is now available on DVD.

God. Bless. Netflix.

'Tis the Season

So it's Fall again.

And every single Fall I start reverting back to the academic calendar where I start thinking of the time after Labor Day as "the new year" and the time to start all fresh and anew. You get your back-to-school clothes, your new box of crayons, a spankin' new pair of Kangaroos brand tennis shoes and the year is suddenly back open for business after months of summer slacking off.

Already I'm thinking up my list of Things To Accomplish in 2005. More trips. More visits with friends. More cooking. More saving money. And a firm resolve to eat that damned bag of cauliflower in the freezer if it kills me. Suggestions welcomed.

P.S. Dick Cheney has a soul mate. I'm just sayin'...

The Soul Mate Game

By far the WORST MIND GAME IN THE HISTORY OF MIND GAMES is a little ditty I like to call the Soul Mate Game.

You know this one.

This is the mind game you play with yourself when you consider all of the people in the world that have found soul mates EXCEPT YOU. The crazy guy on the bus that sweats all the time? Check. Your allergist that shaves off her eyebrows and then hand draws them back in? Your neighbor that listens to Toby Keith for 48 HOURS STRAIGHT. Yes, all of these people have found someone. Even Osama has a soul mate. I'm not saying they're happy. I'm not saying I envy them.

It's just. That for a brief moment. Someone said, "YES THIS IS THE PERSON FOR ME THAT I WILL WAKE UP WITH EVERY MORNING AND SPEND EVERY SINGLE DAY WITH. YES, SIGN ME UP FOR THAT."

God I hate/love the Soul Mate Game.

Lessons learned this weekend

1.) Mark Ruffalo seems to make a lot of movies involve threesomes and other "unconventional" sexual set-ups. Sadly, none of these movies are ever sexy or interesting.

2.) XX/XY is one of those movies.

3.) Drinking lots of red wine while watching one of those bad, unsexy movies will NOT make it better. It will only give you a headache the following morning.

An uneasy list

Words that can make a girl downright nervous when she turns on the telly during a lazy Saturday afternoon:

1.) Evacuations
2.) Eruption
3.) Earthquakes and/or tremors
4.) "Level 3 Alert"
5.) MAGMA

Poorly Thought Out Spam

Recent spam that came to me:

Hello!
We would like to offer V_I_A_G_R_A soft tabs,
These pills are just like regular Vìagra but they are specially formulated to be soft and dissolvable under the tongue. The pill is absorbed at the mouth and enters the bloodstream directly instead of going through the stomach. This results in a faster more powerful effect which lasts as long as the normal. Soft Tabs also have less sidebacks (you can drive or mix alcohol drinks with them).

1.) Isn't there a deep and sad irony in soft-tab Viagra? Wouldn't you want those little blue pills to be hard as, well, they could possibly be?

2.) I'm disturbed about the mention of being able to DRIVE after taking these new Viagra soft tabs. Really, you want to get in a car with your giant boner? Really?

3.) I'm also disturbed about the newfound ability to mix alcohol with the new Viagra soft tabs. Because the giant boner isn't enough, but now you can be sloppy drunk while you have it?

Hominahominahomina. I'm staying in my house all weekend.