A flying winnebago and a glass of water, please

*gross warning. there is some grossness below.

so my cat, my syd who is old, needs to see the vet, because he shat in the house the other day and i found mucous-y blood in his...stuff (even this is grossing me out). i'm at work. i'm making appointments left and right due to departure from job and need to use up insurance benefits, so instead of marching down the stairs, unlocking the employee door and stepping out to call the vet, i'm just doing it from here. in front of everyone, who cares now, right? so, i pick up the phone, the vet answers, she asks why my cat needs to see the vet and i pause. i can't tell her why in front of everyone. i laugh, i tell her it's gross so i need to call from elsewhere on my cell. she laughs. i hang up. i go downstairs.

i'm at lunch. it's my coworker's last day before her maternity leave starts. i am sad to see her go, even though i won't be here to suffer for much longer, without her. we go to lunch with another artist, our receptionist friend, the 75-yr-old disgruntled black racist and her friend who used to work here, but was fired. our older friend doesn't pay tips. i've discovered this before, but always forget. it is not easy to deal with. i'm a 20%-er, except in cases of major assholism. so lunch is over and she wants to haggle with the bill. we hand her enough to pay a sizeable tip, but forget her tipping habits until she says, "this is too much! take it back!" oh my gosh. no one likes haggling over bills at the table. we are frozen. we don't know what to do. or how to get the tip in there. so i slide a $10 bill underneath the check and somehow manage to slide over to the register and whisper, "pssst! that ten in there is the tip!" all without our older friend seeing it. difficult. but accomplished. i think. her eyes looked kind of crooked as we left...but hopefully it's just because she's old. i would hate to hurt her racist feelings. i mean that. i love old people.

i'm back at work. my other coworker is about to take off. he walked in with a fucked up neck today. can't turn around, can't move his head. he drives here an hour this morning like that, he goes to the dentist like that, he goes to his shrink like that. he briefs me on some work and says, "can you figure this out? because i'd rather not come back after the shrink." i stare at him, i can't believe this insanity. this job, this company is so fucking bad that this poor guy has to function through all of these appointments and commuting, with a neck that cannot change position in any way, shape or form...or the work won't get done and tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of dollars would be lost. UNbelievable.

i can't wait to fly away in a winnebago with guy and a laptop. that's all i want. a flying winnebago.

V is for Victory

words i don't have to hear anymore after october 10, my last day in this pigpen:
1. con call
2. panel
3. glenda

percentage that i am closer to the six figure mark:
1. 40%

things i won't have to suffer through anymore:
1. riding with the nutcases on the Krazee Bus every morning
2. the $11 salad
3. the screechy sound of a certain cuntessa
4. the threat of working on the weekend and receiving pay as a form of thank you for it

what i might not get to do anymore, that would suck:
1. write on the bloggy blog

Happy Thoughts

ze frank brings up the idea that having choices is what makes us unhappy, as the stress over making the right choice creates a happiness deficit...whereas if we have no choice at all, we will find a way to be happy with what we have, that our brains actually synthesize happiness as needed.


happiness: the movie by todd solondz. it's totally brilliant and hilarious and makes you feel weird. one of my favorite all-times.


rock music: but duh. for instance, "Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'" by Journey is making me happy right now. music holds the power to change all moods faster than any pill or shot known to humankind.


digging a hole behind rita hayworth's head: the big lesson behind one of the most-seen movies of all time, The Shawshank Redemption. plan and prepare an escape which you work on a little bit everyday and life will generally be more tolerable. guy calls this "the future" which is a very tall vase kept near his bed filled with change. everytime one of us puts change in it, we say, "ahh, the sound of the future." i think i finally get what "the future" is all about now: preparing for escape. my hole is called "looking for a new job" which i do more often than not, but it always improves my state of mind while i'm doing it.

UPDATE: I GOT THE JOB. MOVIN' ON DUDES!!! no more tears from me!

Fashion Whore

fashion. it's so fucking silly. i'm sitting here, at work, working as much as i can during my lunch hour writing a sample for my possible new job. the test is comprised of two parts: one naming new products and writing little descriptions about them, the other is writing copy that will support an "overarching theme" for a collection that will be shown in a store.

this is what my overarching theme is:

(BR) Fall – Qualitative Sophistication

Quality = Comfort = Confidence.

Masterfully crafted, these key fall pieces enlighten your form, giving you a look of expertise and command. Simple and strong, four new items are all you need to disclose an effortless, sophisticated air.

Compose your look with fine wool and cashmere separates but contrast with simpler pieces. Pair the wool flannel cargo pant with a relaxed cotton crew or the flannel, chalk-stripe pant with the cashmere, shawl-collared sweater...


it's funny stuff. i love the challenge of figuring out how to say something in a new way, as well as psychologically understanding the people who shop at BR and what they'd want from their clothes...but there's something embarrassing about it...

my friend (e) said, "those people are going to have a hard time during the revolution" and that keeps coming up in my mind.

i wouldn't be embarrassed to say this is my job. i'm embarrassed at how easy bullshit comes to me. i think. i'm not sure. this is a new arena. a new experience. i'm sure other advertising people feel this way. one of my favorite writers, an ex-advertising copywriter, augusten burroughs, who gave me the idea to try copywriting in the first place, said something like "saying the word 'advertising' makes me want to vomit, it's so dirty."

i think i get it now. huh.

i'm just going to have to laugh at myself a lot.

which is better than crying.

Don't miss this!!

because i'm signed up with tickets.com for concert notification, i received this gem. i can't even believe it's real.



anyone who can tell me who betty buckley is without using google or wikipedia...gets...um, something really great. so far, i am the only one who knows, of all the people i work with and live with (guy).

A Big Bad Move

if there is a god, they probably live at 2 Folsom Street. the building is unlike anything i have ever even entered before (you said entered). the lobby ceilings are probably 3 or 4 stories tall and swathed in marble. this is where i will possibly be working for at least the next 6 months. that's right, seems i've duped the authorities again and gained access to job possibilities way beyond what the general professional american society says i get. looks like i (may) (probably) (they said they "loved me) will start working for the Banana Republic Man in two weeks.

it's strange. the more professional i get, the smarter the people are at the job. i grew up not believing that i had any real intelligence for whatever reason (bad grades) so i find it astounding when i am invited into the smart world. i didn't know they keep getting smarter. in a lot of ways it's easier to work with smarter people. things are better organized. they've figured out and taken it seriously, how to work well with a lot of people and how to intertwine a complex system of capitalism and worker satisfaction.

i could be wrong. but i'm just sayin'.

Working for the Banana Republic Man

Hump Day Hopeful

so i have an interview tomorrow with an agency that wants to place me as a copywriter with bananarepublic.com. my dream of being Elaine Benes is coming true. i feel like i just might bulldoze my way into this career, in much the way i did the first one.

i'm so lucky that i'm a good talker. seriously. just talk talk talk my way into anything. like i said, my bio-dad was a pro on the used-car lot.

thanks bio-dad for giving me extraordinary powers of bullshit. oh, and thanks to my mom for teaching me about sparkle and glow.

i'm so excited, i'm almost forgetting about how much this will screw my employers!!

Dysfunctional Bandaid

ok, so my ipod nano has never been loud enough. but i figured out, that in itunes, you can adjust volume there, per song, to be quite a bit louder. at least that's what it says, and that's what it sounds like when my headphones are plugged in to my computer.

i finally got around to adjusting the volume on most of my 826 songs.

now it's worse.

way quieter.

what the fuck?! all i want is to hear my music and block out all the bullshit. can't seem to do it. i can now hear people talking on the bus, over my music, i can hear footsteps on the asphalt, i can hear everything, except my music and i'm getting pissed.

and at work.

i got the headphones plugged into the computer most of the day to block out the bullshit that lives there. all of a sudden, i can still hear the squeals of the cuntessa and NOT MY MUSIC! i just can't seem to find an adequate blocker.

i guess it really is time to move. god knows i don't want to get a hearing aid or the bullshit will be louder.

Duster Love

guy loves cleaning. he has things all lined up at right angles on his desk and is meticulous in his cleaning schedule. i have a procrastination problem. i will notice the grunge but will not act for a couple of weeks.

i will notice, but not act. i will be annoyed by it myself, but indeed, will not act.

i just looked up "obsessive compulsive" on getty images and a picture of a duster came up. it's the same exact duster that guy uses on the house. it's a duster that he has proclaimed love for.

this is what came up under "obsessive compulsive." interesting.

Clearly

i try and try and try. i try and try.

i try.

but no matter what, i cannot seem to hit the "clear" button on the calculator, just once. only once. once should erase all previous work, correct? of course i know this to be true.

i just can't believe once is enough.

Screwed

the company i work for is about to be SCREWED. the senior designer (& art director by default for lack of staffing; we all perform triple duty) on the biggest and most important account (35% of business) is leaving. giving notice. giving the finger...TOMORROW. ha. i hope some people CRY. i hope the Ups weep tears of anxiety that leave scars in their wake down cheeks of flushed pink flesh.

and then i will give notice (no job yet.) and our woefully understaffed department, that takes months to train, will be almost nonexistent.

this makes me ecstatic. i am one vengeful bitch.

digging my hole

no writing.

just breathing. just walking. just getting dressed. just eating. just working. trying not to cry. female trouble. intense pain. treatments, probes, tests, no answers. trying to stay strong. trying not to wuss out. but get taken down by pain at the final gate.

working for the man on his evil turf. looking for new work every day. escape. i'm digging my hole behind rita hayworth's head, just like andy dufresne.

yeah, that’s it. right there. yeah. yeah. no, over there. yeah, there it is! there it is!

Rx: Peaches

peaches is always good. good to walk to, good to work out to, good to party to, good good good. but she's really the best she can be, when you listen to her on your headphones at work.

for instance:
"wanna pull back the curtains and eat the clam?"
"may i know your hanky code before you go and shoot your load?"

and my favorite:
"your tent's so biiig. your tent's so biiig...if there's a housing crisis, and there ain't anymore, need a place to go, you gotta open the door"

laugh laugh laugh, while putting together (huge corporate computer company) tradeshow panels. out of context inappropriateness.

Baby Real-Life

"oh, she's so cute! you can just tell she's going to grow up to be a big nose-bleeding, smoking, neurotic, anxiety-stricken artist! she's our dream come true!"

Later Losers

i'm so excited. i'm going to be elaine. i just got a gig writing copy for a nike pullout in another catalog. something called "Sport Chalet." as i understand it, it's a nike section for the catalog of a STORE called sport chalet. i heard the woman who hired me say something like it's a store in southern california, or the west coast, but i can't be sure, i got totally stuck on, "can you write product descriptions for a nike catalog section?" and then i shut down. how insanely cool is this! it's fashion, which i love, it's writing, uh, love, it's more money, that's good, and it totally sticks it to my mofo coworkers who will now have to do all the tedious stuff without my inadequate company.

i love sticking it to them (i told this to my mom and she reminded me that god doesn't like ugly). i can hear the queen cuntessa grinding her teeth when i'm asked to write copy for Nike. she fancies herself some kind of genius, yet possesses no talent for anything, whatsoever, except being an ass, so it drives her crazy when she is reminded that i, the village idiot, does.

but i digress. and i must write more product descriptions so i can someday be like elaine and write for jay peterman. i'm so stoked on my new career goal. i can't wait to bid my job goodbye with a big fat, "later losers."

xo

(demographic assignment: 17-22 year old men and women)

Dri-FIT UV Short-Sleeve Top
Wholesale: $17.50
Suggested Retail: $35.00
Size: S-XL

You're a hottie with no trouble staying cool in the Short-sleeve Dri-fit UV top. with front and back, left and right Dri-fit curved-hem heat transfer and reflective piping you can be sure your chill factor is 360 degrees strong.

Dri-fit UV protective and 100% polyester mesh.

Music for September 7

what's getting me through today:

peaches
devo
link wray
neutral milk hotel
bootsy collins

thanks, guys.

PS. shoutout to my friend who refuses to read the Jones. happy birthday to her. i've seen more music with her than all my other friends combined. we wrote together for the ill-fated women's mag, SIREN, in the mid-90s. she would despise the fact that i put a picture of bootsy collins up. that's what she gets for not reading this.

"I can't figure it out girls...but it seems like I have a stick up my ass."

Stoopid

i asked a record label owner if i could burn some of his cds. this is the kind of stupid i am. or am i the kind of stupid who thinks that's stupid when they shouldn't. i don't know. that's what makes me stupid.

Name that list

a flask
sexy underwear
sexy tank top
8 mini bottles of liquor
astroglide
a big bar of toblerone
fortune-telling fish
that issue of WIRED with Beck on the cover
a coin with John 3:16 printed on it
a deck of cards bearing george bush's face on a vintage underwear model's body

Name that list?
10 things my friend (W) sent guy and i for our birthdays, teaching me once again to ignore the scourges in my everyday, 40 hr a week life, and check it out: i got great friends. who are funny.

A little message for my coworkers

can you guess what it is?

Perfect Day

"It's such a perfect day, i'm glad i spent it with you."

and at 2pm on Saturday, September 2, Labor Day weekend started...

an hour to get out of the city due to eastbound bay bridge closure
not so bad
beautiful coastal drive to bodega bay, stop at Hog Island Oyster company to pick up delicious oysters and clams for bbq
crazy run-in with friends of friend there
friends are everywhere
arrive to camp at bodega dunes.
setup
hangout
feeling time with friends who are moving away.
this is our last time. we feel it as much as possible.
loving loving loving their dog who is dying. who is not old. who should not die.
cancer
drink some drinks, laugh some laughs, poke the fire.
go to bed.
get up get ready it's time for goodbyes soon.
friend (D) says, It's a morning full of heartbreak.
she is quiet in her heartbreak.
i cry tears i don't let anyone see.
i climb a tree.
guy and i pack it up
we are leaving for another adventure somewhere down the road don't know where just pack it up.
goodbyes.
we cry.
we cry and hug and i kiss cheeks and awkwardly grasp arms
the tears are so in my face i can't talk
i am speechless with emotion

these are guy's friends from long ago. they have been a team, a group, inseperable for 16 years about, a long time about, inseperable being seperated
it's huge
i am a small observer. i was invited in. i was graciously taken in
i am a small blip on this big screen and i am overwhelmed
the tears have filled up my face

we get in the car. close the door. drive away. silent
we cry and cry. silently. i wonder
how can i stop this, how can we move on, what should i do,
what's next. guy says, I've never said goodbye to someone i knew would be dead before i could see her again. he's talking about the sweet dog, the lama girl. the lama lama ding dong. the dog who never scared me, the dog phobic.



i suggest a plan. it's decadent. the idea of it gets us out of our funk. we start driving inland towards occidental where we hope to get a room.
the one lane drive is sweet. rolling through rolling hills. beautiful.
we arrive. because we are we and we so often do get what we want when we have no expectations, we get a room.
shower.
sleep.
the emotion is exhausting.
up later.
dinner.
delicious.
encrusted halibut on top of basil mashed potatoes sitting in creamy lobster sauce flanked by teeny little greenbeans and roasted tomatoes
unbelievably delicious
we are seated in the back. we spend a lot of money
seated in the back
camping clothes. probably a camping smell.
funny.
go to hotel
go to sleep
get up
drive to point reyes station. we eat chocolate marijuana balls i bought in the park from a sophisticated and pioneering kind of chef. we stop in point reyes and get a drink at the saloon where prince charles once drank. we have some cocktails as the balls kick in. we are suddenly hilarious and delirious and laughing. we leave
go to art gallery
look at great art
it's an auction!
we bid on three pieces. we are so high.
we leave.
i feel like i just escaped an art vacuum.
get in the car,
keep driving on down the road.
reach fairfax in marin.
little miss sunshine is playing.
we say, Hey, let's see that movie!
i tell guy, knowing us, it's starting in 15 minutes.
sure enough, i'm only five minutes off.
we laugh, enjoy the movie. leave, drive home.
no traffic.

we have turned 36 in these few days.

i think of my friend (w) who says that our lives are like that lou reed song, Perfect Day.
she knows what she's talking about.


Perfect Day
by Lou Reed
1972

Just a perfect day,
Drink Sangria in the park,
And then later, when it gets dark,
We go home.
Just a perfect day,
Feed animals in the zoo
Then later, a movie, too,
And then home.

Oh it's such a perfect day,
I'm glad I spent it with you.
Oh such a perfect day,
You just keep me hanging on,
You just keep me hanging on.

Just a perfect day,
Problems all left alone,
Weekenders on our own.
It's such fun.
Just a perfect day,
You made me forget myself.
I thought I was someone else,
Someone good.

Oh it's such a perfect day,
I'm glad I spent it with you.
Oh such a perfect day,
You just keep me hanging on,
You just keep me hanging on.

You're going to reap just what you sow,
You're going to reap just what you sow,
You're going to reap just what you sow,
You're going to reap just what you sow...

The Intelligent Goofball

i don't know if anyone noticed, but i went to an amazing show, WEEN/FLAMING LIPS, and didn't write much about it. this is why, although i love music, i'm not qualified to write music reviews (when i did write about music, back in the day, it was more in story format) or talk about shows, because...it's just...too hard. my sonic youth review lived somewhere in between a joke and comic panel. it's just impossible to describe something that feels so good. words completely fail me.

in that vein, all i can say about john lurie, is that i love him. i do. i love him. the mixture of goofball and intelligent guy is the sexiest combo of all. he's got some new art prints for sale. naturally, they're goofball and intelligent guy-style. i wish i could buy this one: