i keep meaning to post because there are so many comments/questions i need to answer, but there are also months (cue: shame spiral) of emails i'm behind on, so of course i made the BRILLIANT decision that if i sat in front of the computer, i would address those first. sounded good in theory, but the execution...executed this diary 'o mine. i'm still behind on GMails. now, i've started to fire off replies immediately, whether i'm ready to or not, b/c i'm sick of starring everything and never getting back to it. i know. i am teh suck.
random things that i would've posted about had i actually been blogging recently:
=== i did get one of the FIRST tickets to see butterstick, the cutest resident of DC, BUT...BUT...this is me we're talking blogging about, so you know there had to be disappointment and heartbreak in the mix. pacifically, little buttery baby was napping with his mummy, in an enclosure, during my allotted 15 minutes. i strained to heroically take pictures of one of his ears for you. and this leads us to our next tragedy. despite taking 40 pictures of panda parts and the other, ignored animals who were actually viewable...when i plugged my NEW hottie one-gig card in my card-reader...
error.
sigh. i lost all my pictures. four hours in freezing temps and i had nothing to show for it, neither memories of ooey-gooey panda cuteness nor pictures of me gleefully waving my coveted panda viewing ticket. sigh. let's change my name to schlemiel and call it a day. day.
=== my darling better-than-most-browns-gori andrea asked:
When did Depeche Mode suck? Never, in my experience :)
well alluring andrea, apres Songs of Faith and Devotion, i stopped buying. and listening. i was so disgusted with "barrel of ass" or whatever it was, etc. i fretted that losing alan wilder meant that DM was doomed to disintegrate. the group i fell in love with, on a tinny portable radio in the mid '80s no longer sounded like themselves (or anyone else i'd care to listen to). it got so bad, i put away my dozens of discs, records, 12"s etc. listening to "behind the wheel/route66" depressed the shit out of me, (not a word out of you haters!) b/c i was morosely convinced they'd never sound so amazing again. gawd, i'm so thrilled to be wrong. "precious" gives me chills. so do dave and martin, live, on a stage, singing like their concert at the rose bowl was yesterday. swooooon.
=== brimful, under the same picture, quoted lyrics that she might also find on a certain flickr album. synchronicity is sweet. :)
=== massively-missed maisnon, in response to my somewhat surprising postmodernist quiz results:
You are a Gender Nazi. Your boundary-crossing
lifestyle inspires awe in your friends and
colleagues. Or maybe they're just scared you
will kick their asses for using gender-specific
language. Either way, the wife-beater helps.
typed the following
admittedly, my eyebrows milimetered upwards when i saw that, but once i read the explanation again, it made sense, believe it or not. years ago, when veena first joined the air force and people kept addressing her as "airman" in my presence, she not-so-subtly kicked me in the shins b/c i kept muttering "airWOman" after each incorrectly gendered noun. "shut UP," she hissed. "no one is going to ever say that, so give it up." to this day, i still write "airWOman" on her cards, which she receives while violently rolling those beautiful almondine eyes. OTOH, when my father used to use the term-of-endearment "mon" instead of the feminine "mol" (think: beta/beti) for me, i was tickled b/c as he explained eaaaaarly on when i asked him, "i don't care if you are a boy or a girl. 'mon' is used for both".
i do actually own something like 15 "A-tops", not that anyone is aware of this, since i wear them to work out or sleep. i also REALLY have a problem with people referring to them as "Wife-beaters". that bothers the shit out of me. can't you just say tank top, you misogynist fuck?
=== this fiona apple quote that i posted brought me a tiny bit of comfort, during these days when i'm finding it difficult to write: