Danny Boy put it best...

We as a nation/human race have gotten a little confused as to what "happiness" means or what needs to happen in order for it to happen.

My friend, Dan, is stationed in South Korea serving our country, and as such is not able to be here for Christmas (or his wifey, Adrienne either). Not long ago on "The Book of Face," he posted the following, and it goes without say that he hit the nail on the head!

If you quantify your personal happiness as follows then you are wrong: happiness = location where (([distance between family] < x miles) AND [time of year] = "Holidays"); happiness != [codependent behavior] + [personal needs]; happiness != [artificially inflated ego]; Happiness starts with you, not with your location or surroundings.

an open letter to my dog...

Dear Kipper-

When I say to move, it means go someplace else, not switch which side of me you are standing next to.

The dish with the paw print is yours and contains your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. Please note, placing a paw print in the middle of my plate and food does not stake a claim for it becoming
your food and dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.

The stairway was not designed by Nascar and is not a racetrack. Beating me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn't help, because I fall faster than you can run.

I cannot buy anything bigger than a queen size bed. I am very sorry about this. I have no room to spare for one, nor the fundage to get one. Do not think I will continue to sleep on the very edge of my bed to ensure your comfort. Look at videos of dogs sleeping, they can actually curl up in a ball. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to my body and the bed frame, stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that sticking your tail straight out and having your snout stretched out the other end to maximize space used is nothing but doggy sarcasm.

When I am using the Wii for exercise or entertainment, jumping up and trying to grab the Wii remote from my hand is not helpful. Barking at me because I'm not helping you achieve your goal does not win you any extra brownie points.

My compact discs and DVDs are not miniature Frisbees.

For the last time, there is not a secret exit from the bathroom. If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, try to turn the knob, or get your paw under the
edge and try to pull the door open. I must exit through the same door I entered. In addition, I have been using bathrooms for years, canine attendance is not mandatory despite what you may think.

The proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other dogs butt at the park/doggy day care/on a walk, etc. I cannot stress this enough. It would be such a simple change for you.

real men of genius...

The Portland MAX Presents: Real Men of Genius
(Real Men of Genius)

Today we salute you, Mr. Arm Shoved Through MAX Door Commuter.
(Mr. Arm Shoved Through MAX Door Commuter)

Without your unwavering commitment to board a train that comes every ten minutes, fellow commuters would have to arrive at their jobs on time.
(No one hopes you make it)

Armed with nothing more than a Starbucks cup, you squirm furiously, undeterred by the total loss of circulation in your right arm.
(Your fingers are turning red)

Please stand clear of the doors? I think not. While others may heed these warnings, you dare to push the envelope, and all others within five feet of the doorway.
(No one else matters)

So crack open an ice cold beer, oh gatekeeper of the Blue Line, because MAX may Open Doors but you keep 'em that way.
(Mr. Arm Shoved Through MAX Door Commuter)

snakes... why did it have to be snakes?

Earlier this year while hanging out with Tori at Gaffer's, our friend Jesse and I got into a mini debate which then evolved into a full on debate about "Who's the bigger badass: Indiana Jones, or James Bond?" I claimed that Indy is hands down the bigger badass, while Jess (surprise surprise) put stock in Bond. The question is not "who's hotter" or "who's got more stuff" (even though we all know that the Brits give Bond gadgets hand over fist like it's Monopoly money)... The question is between these two extremely popular fictional heroes, who takes the cake? Someone tried to tell me "Indiana Bond would be the be all end all of badassedness." Nice try. And no, you can't say Chuck Norris wins this fight. Norris isn't invited.

Even Lego Indy is more badass than James Bond. It's science.

So, here we go with the facts. This entry is dedicated to my icon, Henry "Indiana" Walton Jones, Junior (yes, that is in fact his full name...don't ask me how I know his middle name. Admitting how I know would just prove how big my nerdiness actually is)
Nicknames
Indiana
Indy

Personal
Date of Birth July 1, 1899 - Princeton, New Jersey
Family PARENTS: Henry Jones, Senior (1872-1951) & Anna Jones (?-1912)
SPOUSE: Marion Ravenwood (March 23, 1909-?)
CHILDREN: Henry "Mutt" Walton Jones, III (1938-?)

OCCUPATION: Professor of Archaeolgy (Marshall College, Connetticut)
Archaeologist
Associate Dean
Soldier

Alright, now that all the personal information is out of the way...here we go. Frank Marshall, who produced the Indy movies, said of the character, "Indy is a fallible character. He gets hurt. He makes mistakes. He's a real character, and not a superhero."

When not in the classroom at Marshall being that teacher that is ever so crushworthy (ex. female student who wrote "Love You" on her eyelids so he could see them when she blinked. Hell, even if I *wasn't* a history nerd, I'd take his class just to drool over him), Indy is either globetrotting, searching for lost and ancient artifacts, or kicking the bad dudes' butts. While some view Jones as simply a mercenary, he honestly believes that these relics "belong in a museum" (Last Crusade). His motives are not for self fufillment, but honestly for the preservation of history. Sure, he may not be the *best* archaeologist, with his tactic being more rough around the edges instead of carefully uncovering history's hidden treasures, the dude's got gusto! 

Pictured: Gusto

In 2008, Archaeology magazine (yes, it exists)one of the editors said that Indy was "a horrible archaelogist, but a great diplomat for archaeology," then awarded 8 past and current archaeologists who they felt embodied Jones' chutzpah with the "Indy Spirit Award" (yes, that really exists too).
Both of Indiana's personas (Dr Jones and Indiana) reject one another in philosophy, creating a duality. Harrison Ford said that the fun of playing Indy was because he got to be both a romantic and a cynic. A lone wolf. Man on a quest. Human superhero. Patriot.

On to more...rugged...territory ;)
Armed with nothing more than his iconic bullwhip, fedora and leather jacket, his World War I Webley-Green revolver, along with a wry sense of humor, deep knowledge of many ancient civilizations and languages, Indiana more than proves his awesomeness. Seriously. Sure, he's scared crapless of snakes...so what? I'm scared of clowns. My mother is arachnophobic. Whoop de doo. Everyone's got a fear of something...his is slithery, hissing reptiles.  Quick on his feet, he's narrowly escaped death numerous times while still looking hot. Did I say hot? Um, I meant "dashing"...yeah...that's what I meant. Remember how he faced down Hitler...okay, so he didn't face him down, but did you know what I mean. Had the perfect opportunity to kill him if he wanted to, then Hitler gave him his autograph. Hilarious. Taking on Panzers, Egyptian swordsmen, Nazis, Indian cults, etc....*sigh*. He doesn't need fancy fast cars, a high salaried job, tons of gadgets or super intelligent technology to save the day...and he gets the girl everytime (well, except Elsa because she died....but that was her own fault for being a greedy Nazi bitch, and we all knew from the beginning that it was always Marion. BBQ bless Karen Allen).

Raw. Intelligent.  Not afraid to get down and dirty for the better good. And oh...that smile.... Henry Jones, Junior...it's all you!

This is also acceptable as swoon worthy.

Trader Joe's, I am breaking up with you...

I know doing this via blog is a little gauche, but I really don't care.

Sorry Joe, it's not you, it's me.

No, no... that's a lie. It's you, and the other people you've been seeing.

When we first started seeing each other things were great. I loved you for your tasty and unique variety of frozen snacks, sauces and dry goods. I was never so happy as when I was sipping a glass of your shockingly inexpensive chardonnay or tasting a wonderfully decadent miniature dessert. It never bothered me that your pleasantly hippy exterior was just a transparent cover for your low-grade snob appeal and nagging need to be trendy. I admit, it really attracted me in a forbidden way - I'm also an elitist ass and couldn't come to terms with my nascent desire to be cool.

But those feelings are gone now. When I see you now all I can remember are the awful battles to get through your cramped little parking lot, the eternally long lines and the other obnoxious shoppers you insist on seeing.

Specifically, I can't handle you seeing these people:

The parking lot meanderers - I understand that you're not in a hurry. And, truthfully, I don't HAVE to be anywhere urgently either; but I would much rather spend my time doing something I enjoy than waiting for you to cross the parking lot crosswalk with all the speed and alacrity of an old person with a walker in a tar pit. Also, walking down the middle of the lane while the cars behind you move at your strolling pace isn't helping anyone. Please, just get in your damn Volvo station wagon parked diagonally into 2 lanes and go home, someone there may just appreciate you getting in their way. I don't.

The faux-wine snob - You would almost entertain me, if I didn't despise you. I'm glad that you like to flash your platinum card while buying a few bottles of overpriced wine that you scrutinized for 15 minutes while I ignoring my polite requests to be 'excused' and allowed to pass you in the wine aisle. Perhaps I should give you a cheat sheet which could make your wine shopping a little easier. Here are the tips you need to know:
-Joe's is great for inexpensive wines. Charles Shaw is really a wonder of the free market. Remember, you don't get to drink the price tag.
-No one is impressed by pretention. Also, for future reference, Neitzche doesn't rhyme with "peachy."
-That bottle of Sutter Home you considered for it's "earthy tones?" You can buy that at Safeway. Also, "earthy tones" means that it tastes like dirt.
-The expensive wines are just there to make you think that the selection is "great." Those are decent, but incredibly overpriced bottles for people with money who can't tell the difference. Wait... sorry, that's for you. Would it be easier for you if they just labeled them with your name?

Anyone buying organic pet food - Have you watched your dog lick his own balls or chew the life out of a piece of colored rubber lately? They don't care if their food is organic, they just want to eat a lot of it and then crap it out on the sidewalk so you have to scoop it up. Seriously, watch how happy they are the next time you scoop up their deuce for them.

The guy buying frozen vacuum packed Atlantic salmon - You're truly the antithesis of the Wine Snob, you are the guy who doesn't appreciate what he has or could have. You live in the greatest seafood area in the world. The Pacific Ocean is only an hour and a half away. If you're snobby enough to shop at Trader Joe's you can suck it up and spring for something good from a real fish market.

The people lingering at the free samples counter - Sadly, my formerly-beloved Beaverton Trader Joe's was designed by a sadistic freak who placed the sample counter at the narrowest and most highly trafficked point of the store, creating a painfully constipated shopping sphincter. There's no avoiding the poor design, but must you linger for minutes at a time savoring every crumb of your craptastic little want-to-be-DiGiorno pizza. If you do find it necessary to stand there and not step out of the way I promise that I will also find it necessary to jab you in the kidney as I squeeze through.

Whoever decided to discontinue the Trader Joe's peanut butter Oreo knock-offs - How can there be any value to life in a world without those wonderfully tasty treats?

The "Everything here is so cheap!" people - Obviously there was no math requirement at your liberal arts college. Either that, or you can't be honest with yourself through your haze of liberal guilt over your trust fund. Get over it and admit that you're a snob who doesn't really care if they pay a little more for something they like, or shut up and shop at Safeway.


I'm sorry Joe, I just can't go on living a lie. If you can't change, or stop seeing other people then I have to end it.

the other ten commandments...

1. We are the retail associates thine greeters, cashiers, and fitting room attendants. Thou shalt have no other expectations before us. Thou shalt not raise thy voice in anger if thy humble customer service servants cannot validate thy parking ticket, tend to thy ADD-afflicted progeny, or tell thee where thou canst find the nearest Radio Shack in the mall.

2. Thou shalt have but a few select items before thee when thou enters the hallowed fitting rooms. Thou shalt choose thy items with care whilst thou peruses the racks of plenty, considering carefully what thou wouldst appear flattering in as well as what thou can fit thy self into. For we thy retail associates are but go-back-despising, lowly-paid peons, cursing for all generations them that pluck freely from the racks, try on multiple items, and purchase none, leaving the bounties of the retail gods strewn across the fitting room floors.

3. Thou shalt not take the name of the retail associates thy fellow human beings in vain for acts of God or corporate policy, e.g., refund policies, product selection and availability, or long lines, none of which thy humble front-line servants have any power to change.

4. Thou shalt remember thy retail establishment's closing hours, to keep it holy. Thou shalt not enter any establishment less than fifteen minutes before closing and thou shalt seek to purchase the cotton-blend fruits of thy labor within fifteen minutes of closing, particularly on the most holy days of holiday eves. If thou must enter or stay past closing time for emergency purposes, thou shalt pluck from the shelves of plenty only that which thou needs, being aware that every minute thou loiters or every article thou mess'd up damns thy retail associates to further toil and sorrow in the purgatory of night time cleanup.

5. Thou shalt honor thy retail establishment's general appearance and level of cleanliness. Thou shalt always fix or pick up that which thou hast so obviously disarrayed or caused to drop the floor, and thou shalt never leave on any random rack or shelf that which thou no longer desires to purchase. Thou shalt consider how thou wouldst feel if a multitude of thy patrons came to thy office and randomly scattered thy filing system, office supplies, and the beanie babies which sit atop thy computer monitor.

6. Thou shalt not seek to kill thy retail associates' belief in humanity. Thou shalt realize, particularly on busy days, that thy humble front-line servants are often under-paid, under-staffed, under-trained, and over-worked with more tasks than thou may be aware of. If thou art approached by an associate, thou shalt acknowledge thy associate as a friendly fellow human seeking to assist thee, not as a scourge upon the sales floor to rob thee of thy cash and credit cards.

7. (I can't believe I have to list some of these, but) Thou shalt not commit gross iniquities against thy retail establishment. Thou shalt not masticate, urinate, defecate, excoriate, regurgitate, masturbate, or procreate in the holy halls of retail apparel.

8. Thou shalt not steal, especially not by using thy baby stroller, foreign grandmother, or wrinkled Macy's department bag lined with tinfoil. That wouldst make thou hella ghetto.

9. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy true clothing size. Thou shalt be realistic about thy physical proportions; if thou hast never before fit into a size three, thou shalt not attempt to wedge thy portly self into ten articles of size three clothing in the hopes of divine intervention, generous sizing, or loose seams.

10. Thou shalt not covet thy retail associates' phone numbers. Thou shalt not misconstrue friendly desperation to meet sales quotas and/or earn sales commission as sexual advances or invitations to such advances.

The retail gods have spoken; go forth and spread the word, my fellow shoppers. 'Tis the season.

so...you think you want a tattoo?

 I have a 5 year old daughter that wants to gauge her ears someday and I keep trying to make her think, "What is the FIRST thing I want people to think when they see me?" Because, baby, if you gauge your ears then you will NEVER get the chance to recover from the instant judgment that will be passed upon you by most of society that is OUTSIDE your own age bracket. I have plenty of friends that have their ears gauged, and honestly if my earlobes weren't the size of the average 8 month old, I probably would do it too. Before you get all "Well, aren't you a hypocrite?" on me, understand this: I know who I am and don't care if my physical appearance is pleasing to your eye. I am one for freedom of expression, as are most of my circle...

But this isn't about ear gauges; it's about similar expressions of creativity and individuality.

It is both a Rant AND a Rave. And it's long. I have a great combination going on right now of passion for the subject and total boredom with whatever else I should be doing.

So for what it might be worth to you, here is the same advice I give EVERYONE that's contemplating their first tattoo.

1. Be sober. Stone. Cold. Sober. Period.

2. Research beforehand. Meaning, watch the artist work, check out samples of their work. Make sure their place is clean. If you wouldn't sit down there and eat a burger, leave immediately.

3. If you're going to get something written in a foreign language, have someone of that nationality (someone that you TRUST) write what you want FOR you and bring it to the artist. Alternatively you can have that person go with you so they can translate what you see before you get inked. Otherwise, you could end up with a tat on the back of your neck that you THINK says "I love my mother" but you're constantly getting your ass kicked because it really says, "Your mother's a whore".

4. Make sure you chose something that means something to you, not some trendy thing you're constantly going to have to explain once that fad passes. For those of you old enough to remember imagine if you had...say...Jem from Jem and the Holograms in portrait style...across your back. Yeah. SEE!?!

5. I used to make this "point #4A" since it is so closely related. But about 10 years ago (wow, I'm getting old, I just realized it was more like 11 years now) I decided it is probably THE single most important thing I say to prospective ink recipients so it gets its very own number now. In regards to things that REALLY mean something to you...and this is IMPORTANT: never, never never never NEVER NEVER NEVER put someone else's name, initials, portrait etc. on your body to whom you are not related BY BLOOD. EVER. Never. Did I say never? Okay, we covered that.

6. Put it someplace that the whole world isn't going to see it, because later, you may not be so thrilled (now proceed to #7 because it's relevant, I swear).

7. Most people find that once they get "my first tattoo" they either regret it instantly and start wondering "is there a way to get rid of it?" OR they love it and almost instantly start thinking "my next tat's gonna be...." So become comfortable with the notion of having multiple tattoos before you get your FIRST tattoo. Or don't get any at all.

8. Make sure you have plenty of money and a high tolerance for pain. A good tat shouldn't BE cheap, man. You are paying an artist for a permanent piece of art. If that person is doing the drawing for you then it's twice the work of art. If you want a cheap mass production, then by all means, go to the Wal-Mart of tattoo studios outside the back gate of the nearest Basic Training camp and pay $40 for the same thing that FOUR THOUSAND other dudes JUST LIKE YOU have *See caveats before you jump on me about Unit Crests and the like. Anyway, the reason you need to have the money and the tolerance for pain is not necessarily for GETTING the tattoo, it is just in case you fall in the first group from #7. Because, for you folks, removal is an option but it is not cheap, it is NOT pain free and it will probably leave a scar that ranges in severity from "Hm...is that a scar right there? I've never noticed that before" to somewhere in the neighborhood of, "Holy SHIT! Were you NAPALMED as a child!?!" (As a bonus, though, IF you followed the advice in #6, no one ever has to see the scar unless you let them because YOU were smart enough to put your first tat someplace discreet.)

Okay, for the caveats: No, I am not a tattoo artist. Yes, I have multiple tattoos. Three to be exact. For those of you sporting the Double A's of the 82nd, or the Head of the Screamin' Eagle or something similar, ROCK ON. That doesn't fall into the "cheap mass production" category it falls into the "means something special to me" category.

The thing about MY tats though is that like one lady said to me when we had a tat conversation, NONE OF THEM is in a readily visible area. I have none on my hands, wrists, arms, face, etc. I have one on the back of my neck which is only visible when I pull my hair up, and the others are on my ankle and hip. I wear pants or jeans 99.7% of the time, and I know how to cover them to a point where you will never even see them unless I tell you they are there. (For those that care to know how, I'll put that at the very end) My point is, I don't HAVE to cover mine. I'm fortunate enough to have family and friends that actually like them. In addition to that, I'm also a bartender. No one CARES what we look like. Most people are slightly frightened of us even without tats and they barely let us out from behind the bar anyway. But unless you want to spend your life working with inanimate objects, or you are Blessed to be talented as a clothing or interior designer, or capable as a chef, blah blah blah...then you better LIKE living in squalor because you're going to have slim pickings in the job market because people ARE judgemental. If you have studs in your face and tattoos across your neck and are up against an equally qualified candidate that appears "Clean Cut" the dude may very well be a scum bag, but he'll win because all they see is your adornments.

Being the mother of a girlr these days, though, I WHOLE HEARTEDLY AGREE with random lady. You can be a free spirit and you can be an individual without compromising your ability to make a good first impression.

So, to my baby girl, when you're 18 you'll be allowed to do whatever you want. And I will just have to hope that you heed my words and the words of the random lady and, thus, you make a good decision. If so, we'll go see if CAITLYNN is still working at SKIN CITY TATTOO in TIGARD, and if she's there, then I will leave you in her highly skilled hands and you will be free to get whatever ink you want. But until you are 18 NO INK and NO GAUGING.

And that's my take on Tattoo decisions.

Here's the "free tip" about covering I promised. It's more directed at the female population, unless you are like my dear friend Adam and do drag, but I digress...
I once worked for the most recognizable and "trusted" lingerie company in the world, and I had about 4 managers. However there was a certain one, I saw her almost every day, for months and she had no idea I had any tattoos - I only had two back then - until someone told her. with this company, you were not allowed to have ANY visible tattoos or piercings.
First of all, do an allergy test first, just like the makeup package says. Get yourself a Maxx Factor Pan Stick and slather that stuff on over the tat until you can just barely even see it anymore (it's gonna be pretty thick and the stuff isn't cheap but Maxx Factor is the kind that NEVER FAILS to work. You get what you pay for, I suppose). Okay, after you slather that on, feather out the edges so it's not just a big ass circle. Throw on a good dose of loose facial powder so it isn't sticky anymore. Now carefully put your nylons (if you are the type to wear them....I'm not) on and NO ONE will ever know they are there. This works for me because yes, you will have to put hose on and if you constantly scratch at it or cross and uncross your legs all day long you may have to touch it up (it's makeup, don't you usually have to touch that up?) but if done right you can wear anything you want, even open toed shoes because they DO make nylons with no toes, you know, and no one has to know you have them. Now...I wouldn't do this without hose because the makeup would wear off onto your clothes and you'd probably spend a fortune on dry cleaning bills...but for me this works. Getting the stuff OFF, is a trick in and of itself so here's the follow up: Get yourself some cheap ROLL ON deodorant. Old School style, wet ass, roll on deodorant with the roller ball (like Sure or whatever's cheapest) and a big tub of cheap ass baby wipes to go with it. And grab some moisturizer while you're there. Okay, shake up the roll on and slather THAT all over the makeup until it starts to get wet. Use the baby wipes to wipe off. Repeat as necessary. Then moisturize. Deodorant has a tendency to dry the skin out..and we all know that tattoos that are dried out and flaky just look nasty. You don't want it to be left having the appearance of a dried up chunk of sunburned skin do you? I didn't think so.

a letter to my old friend, Al C. Ohol...

Dear Al-

First & foremost let me tell you that I'm a huge fan of yours. My Friend, you always seem to be there when needed. The perfect post-work cocktail, a beer with the game, and you're even around in the holidays hidden inside chocolates as you warm us when we're stuck in the midst of endless family gatherings. However, lately I've been wondering about your intentions.

While I want to believe that you have my best interests at heart, I feel that your influence has led to some unwise consequences, briefed below for your review.

1. Phone Calls: While I agree with you that communication is important, I question the suggestion that any conversation of substance or necessity takes place after 2 a.m. Why would you make me call those ex-boyfriends when I know for a fact they do not want to hear from me during the day, let alone all hours of the night?

2. Eating: Now, you know I love a good meal, but why do you suggest that I eat a chili dog, along with potato skins and some stale chips (washed down with Diet Pepsi and topped off with a Kit Kat all after a few handfuls of Wheat Thins and french fries)? I'm an eclectic eater, but I think you're pushing the limits.

3. Clumsiness: Unless you're subtly trying to tell me that I need to do more yoga to improve my balance, I see NO need to hammer the issue home by causing me to fall down. It's completely unnecessary, and the black & blue marks that appear on my body mysteriously the next day is beyond me. I'm already clumsy by nature. I do not need your assistance. Similarly, it should never take me more than 45 seconds to get the front door key into the lock.

4. Pictures: This can be a blessing in disguise, as it can often clarify the last point below, but the following costumes are banned from ever being placed on my head in public - Indian wigs, sombreros, bows, ties, boxes, upside-down cups, inflatable balloon animals, traffic cones, or bras. Also, what is with you making me take pictures with people I clearly don't like when I'm sober? Yet they suddenly become my best friends when a flash is presented?

5. Beer Goggles: If I think I may know him from somewhere, I most likely do not. Please do not request that I go over and double check if in fact, I do actually know that person. Please stop me from talking to the guy with the crooked teeth; acned-up face; bad breath, beer belly, etc. Why they are so appealing to me while I'm with you??

6. Furthermore: The hangovers have GOT to stop. This is getting ridiculous. I know a little penance for our previous evening's debauchery may be in order, but the 4 am hangover immobility is completely unacceptable. My entire morning is shot. I ask that, if the proper precautions are taken (a large lemon-lime Gatorade and a Snickers bar and a bottle of Ibuprofen) prior to going to bed, the hangover should be minimal and in no way interfere with my daily activities.

Al, I have enjoyed our friendship for some years now and would like to ensure that we remain on good terms. You've been the invoker of great stories, the provocation for much laughter, and the needed companion when I just don't know what to do with the extra money in my pockets. In order to continue this friendship, I ask that you carefully review my grievances above and address them immediately. I will look for an answer no later than Thursday 12:59 pm (right before Thanksgiving with my family) on your possible solutions & hopefully we can continue this fruitful partnership.

Thank you, from your biggest fan.

10 things you can physically do to make traffic not so wonky...

Sure, you could ride transit or carpool or bike, but that's not gonna happen, so here are easy things you can actually do...

All of these fit a theme. The theme is: It's not all about YOU out there. You are part of a collective. If everyone did these unselfish things, traffic would be much better:

Welcome to Traffic Hell...

1. Don't tailgate. When you tailgate, you have to tap your brakes at the slightest speed change. You tap for a second, the guy behind you taps for two, the guy behind him for four, and so forth. Ripple effect that equals slowdown.

2. Use onramps correctly. ACCELERATE! Get up to a speed that matches overall traffic, then merge seamlessly. Too many people here merge into 60 mph traffic at 40 mph. People hit their brakes, and again you get a ripple effect.

3. Honor the left lane. Move over when not overtaking cars. Yes, we've talked this one to death. Just do it.

4. Pick a lane and try to stick with it. Incessant lane changes for little real gain can cause slowdowns for much the same reason as the onramp example above. Think ahead: Will the lane you're in peter out soon, or turn into an exit-only lane? Get yourself in one that will see you through to your destination.

5. At stoplights, pay attention. If you're first in line waiting at a light, be sure you're pulled up far enough, as someone here already noted. Then PAY ATTENTION! Watch the light. When it changes, go! Driving is war, and you've got the point -- so stay alert! That goes for everyone in the back of the line too, but we have way too many people at the front who use stoplight time to apply makeup, read the paper, change the radio station or eat french fries off their car's floor.

6. Step on it. If traffic's going 60 in your lane, why aren't you keeping up with the guy ahead of you? Why do you feel the need to go 57? Again, you're part of a collective out there. Join in, please.

7. Don't go so fast you get pulled over. Because every time someone gets pulled over, it gums up traffic for the rest of us. People rubberneck and irrationally brake (like the trooper's gonna drop you to go after them), and the aforementioned ripple effect ensues. So drive briskly, but don't risk a ticket. If you're going over 70 in a 60 mph zone, you're risking it.

8. Look way down the road. I get on 26 eastbound pretty much every week from Raleigh Hills at the West Slope. Two lanes from Canyon Road are onramp only, and another shoots you off onto the Sylvan Hill. Invariably someone is sitting in the middle, onramp-only lane who wants to go straight. And he just sits there, and people are stuck behind him. It happens at every signal, because the mope didn't READ THE SIGNS. Look ahead. Look far ahead. Look way past that big honkin' SUV you're behind, if you can. The sooner you see signs and the sooner you see trouble, the sooner you can avoid messing up in a way that affects the rest of us.

9. Live the golden rule. Let people in. Wave when someone lets you in. I wish I had a buck for every time I've signaled to enter a gap in a lane, and the car that's far back in that lane guns it to try to keep me from moving over. No wait, I don't wish I had a buck, I wish I had his head on a pike. But you've gotta check that impulse too. Do unto others ... you know.

10. Devote yourself to the task. This is covered in many of the points above, but driving is not simply something you do to pass the time while listening to the radio. Driving is the all-consuming task at hand.

So DO it -- briskly, efficiently and competently. So that we can all get out of eachother's way.

Merci.

it's a gin blossoms kind of day...

  

template for all your "missed connections" needs...

Save lots of time hunting down your missed connection with this easy to use template. Just check the appropriate boxes, and you're well on your way to eternal happiness!

I was at
[ ] Starbucks
[ ] Starbucks
[ ] the Starbucks kiosk in the Safeway

and you were
[ ] working at the Starbucks.
[ ] a customer at the Starbucks.

You were
[ ] ordering a "venti half-caf soy latte" or some other nonsense with a made-up name.
[ ] making a "venti half-caf soy latte" or some other nonsense with a made-up name.
[ ] enjoying a "venti half-caf soy latte" or some other nonsense with a made-up name.

I couldn't help noticing you
[ ] made eye contact when I paid for my drink.
[ ] nodded politely when I asked for a lid for my drink.
[ ] admiring how concisely I used the fake coffee terminology when I ordered my overpriced, made-up name beverage.

I was the
[ ] guy wearing a trendy commie army hat and an oh-so-predictable, 3 sizes-too-small t-shirt from a thrift store and a shaggy 1976 hairdo.
[ ] guy with the "I'm so effing ironic" 70's fu man chu mustache and mirrored aviator sunglasses and greasy hair.
[ ] girl wearing hiphugger jeans that are so small that they make my spare tire look like one from an 18 wheeler, prominently displaying my "tramp stamp" tattoo.

You were
[ ] the girl pretending to ignore me and acting like you were busy typing furiously into your iBook.
[ ] the barista pretending to be too busy working to notice how hot I am.
[ ] the guy making a complete mess at the condiment counter while doctoring up your fancy expensive coffee drink.

I think there was a spark and I think you know it too. Wanna get some coffee??

random trivial facts...

My first crush was Jonathan Taylor Thomas. I love dogs. I'm close with my family, which includes 3 sets of parents, 9 siblings, 5 living grandparents (and 3 deceased ones), 18 cousins (plus their spouses and kids...too many to count or I'd have a headache), 15 aunts and uncles, and my two awesome kids. I like to dance, sail, hike, swim, play baseball and pool. I'm 26. I've done freelance makeup for 5 years, and for 4 years before that in high school. My toenails are painted neon green. I have a sick and unhealthy love for the trifecta of deliciousness: bbq, bacon, and beer. I was active in student council for choir for 2 years in high school, and was the box office manager for drama my senior year. My friends and family call or text me randomly for answers to historical, cinematic, or bartending questions . My second crush was JC from NSYNC. If I could be anyone other than who I am, I would be Jennifer Aniston. I've bought things from the As Seen on TV aisle at the store (my favorite is still the Magic Bullet). I make great oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. I can't stand eating onions in anything...it's a texture thing. I like my eggs over medium. I'm going to go back to school and get my certification for hair styling and cosmetology. I love Austin Powers. I collect art/photos/memorabilia with lighthouses on it, but don't claim to know anything more than certain photos and paintings make me extra happy. My main "talent" seems to be my klutziness. I kiss with my eyes closed. I like tomatoes in ketchup, pizza sauce and spaghetti sauce, but not as a tomato itself . Ironing is my 2nd favorite favorite household chore. I have a knack for cutting hair. I don't like chocolate. I'm right handed. I've had my heart broken two times but I've only broken one. I love Shark Week on the Discovery channel. I always felt bad for Daffy Duck. If I were a lesbian, I'd have a crush on Jennifer Tilly. I'm allergic to cats. I like to drive fast. I cry at sad movies. When I was a kid, I loved to make experimental dinners for my family. I like men with hairy chests, but not a sweater. I sometimes believe horoscopes. I love to wear lingerie. I grew up in a town I still love. I wet my toothbrush before putting the toothpaste on, and after the toothpaste is on. I like cheese, but it doesn't like me. I was a social butterfly in high school, and didn't belong to just one clique. I make wonderful lasagna. I'm 5'6" tall. I love playing pinball but suck at video games. I love climbing trees still. I'm an awesome parallel parker. My favorite place is Hawaii. I don't get why people watch Star Trek. I type with great speed. I've lost three pairs of sunglasses so far this year. My favorite escape is to the Oregon Coast. I consider cooking to be very therapeutic. I was Cinderella for my first Halloween. I speak two languages poorly and one language well. I don't dress up very often, but when I do, I look pretty awesome. My guitars are two of my favorite belongings. I forgive, but never forget. I prefer the window seat. I want to fall in love.

battlecry of frustration...

What the eff people! I need a mothertrucking job, and I have a resume that says I am more than fit to be your stupid front desk/administrative assistant, bartender/server, cosmetologist, etc. I have applied to a ton of jobs on the interwebs and personally in person, and not one of them responded. WHAT THE DEUCE?!

Cover Letter? Here's my cover letter!
Now, I'm really low on money, and I'll kick an old person if I have to...that's right!
Got a bear in your backyard that keeps eating your garbage? I'll fight that bear and I'll win! Can any other prospective employee say that?! HELLS NO! What'd you say? You lost your keys? BRING IT! I'll shoot the freaking lock off your door with my laser eyes! That's how bad I need a job!

OBJECTIVE
I need a effing job.

STUFFS I HAVE DONE
-I invented the moon.
-Atlantis was around til 1984, but sunk when I shot out of my mom's body like a silver bullet into a wolverine.
-I am also a wolverine.
-Had a relationship with 2 of the Backstreet Boys .
-The "anal bumcover" was originally my idea until that bastard Sean Connery (with the help of Alex Trebek and writers at SNL) stole it.
-I have prophetic visions of the apocalypse.
-Watched the movie "Juwanna Mann" at least 18 times. http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0247444/
-Created a new genre of dance in which people get so into it that radiation waves pulsate off of them, I like to call this The Microrave.
-I reverse engineered a door, I now know how it works.
-When I was 8, a frisbee flew into my backyard and I blew it up with my mind.
-My brother is the Eiffel Tower
-Direct descendant of Beowulf
-Can make weapons out of anything, very useful in a hostile work environment
-Beat my anorexia issue when I was 19 with my love for Taco Bell (you think that isn't hard? have you ever been anorexic? yeah...didn't think so)
-Proficient in Microsoft Office and Photoshop

RELEVANT WORK EXPERIENCE
GlomGlom Corporation of Evil Doing
POSITION: Front Desk/Administrative Assistant
DUTIES: Setting up sex scandals in which to blackmail wealthy politicians, forwarding email, burning down the houses of the poor, loan sharking, answering phones, greeting clients in a manner that would frighten most people

GreenHate Enterprises
POSITION: Once Again, I was a mothertrucking Front Desk/Administrative Assistant
DUTIES: Organizing the dumping of bio-waste into the ocean, peeing in lakes, digging holes to fill with garbage, making garbage out of perfectly good and useful items, filling said holes with said garbage, creating fake facts about Greenpeace and publishing them on the internet(I am internet savvy), good at filing...documents of hate.

REFERENCES
Glomgor Evil
GlomGlom Corporation of Evil Doings
gorlock@peanutbutternipples.com

Sloblor the Muck Monster
GreenHate Enterprises
sloblor@greenhate.com


So, now that you know the real me, are you gonna hire me or not? I would like to remind you that I can make weapons out of anything.

Sincerely,
Little Old Me

steps to eating a lunch from Chipotle...

1. You're hungry. You're busy. You're pretty broke. Hungry + Busy + Broke = Chipotle sounds pretty good.

2. The eater walks to Chipotle...DAMN now you start to feel hungry. A Chipotle burrito sounds really good, and filling, and you haven't eaten one in a while now - the last one made you feel kind of sick. However, due to the magic of Chipotle, you cannot seem to remember feeling sick after the last one, or if you do, it has no bearing on the sudden craving.

3. Reinforcement of the Chipotle obsession sets in - driven mostly by Chipotle's marketing campaign. It's FRESH, you assure yourself, and it's healthy. God what a brilliant place. Forget that they are owned by McDonald's. Relationships to McDonald's fades from memory. You are uncontrollably drawn to the local Chipotle. To make matters worse, the people are Twilight Zone friendly when you get there, particularly the man/woman at the register. YOU LOVE CHIPOTLE.

4. The eater hurries back to the office...yum yum yum, Chipotle in the bag, yum yum yum, I am going to be SO full after this yummy lunch. Fellow co-workers shoot sympathetic glances in the elevator while saying, "oh you got Chipotle? oh yeah, yum yum! it's easy and close...so filling though!" , however tone of voice indicates [DANGER YOU ARE ABOUT TO HAVE A BAD EXPERIENCE BUT I KNOW I CANNOT STOP YOU FROM INDULGING].

5. Eater begins to attack burrito/burrito bowl...first wonders, "How will I eat this thing, it is so big?" again forgetting how they eat it every time they get it, which is about once a week to once every two weeks.

6. 1st quarter of burrito is gone. Still ravenous. Burrito is going down GREAT. You can't shovel enough. It tastes SO FRESH! They made it so FAST! Shovel, shovel, big bites, and rice is oozing out all over. Chipotle seems like a genius lunch place. You almost wish you ordered two.

7. Half of the burrito is gone. Eater slows in pace a little. Attitude still good. Excited, but tiring slightly.

8. Things begin to slide downhill during the second half of the Chipotle experience. Weird film forms in mouth. Beans taste weird. Cilantro tastes not so good. Breath is inevitably really bad. You realize the rice isn't really cooked right. Still eating, just feeling slightly....off. The last quarter is especially hard to finish, but you do, because your brain is still sure that the burrito is an awesome idea, but your stomach is in emergency mode, sending out signals to everything, screaming, "shut down intake of burrito...overload...red flag". For some odd Chipotle reason, you finish the burrito with a sense of accomplishment and impending fear. You feel obligated to finish the burrito.

9. Eater feels disgusting. Eater wonders how the burrito actually fit into their stomach. Just washing the dish and wiping off the table makes you a bit sick. The eater cannot get the lingering taste out of their mouth, and feels self conscious during happy hour/staff meeting. Stomach is bursting with burrito contents. Feel horrible, exhausted, and angry about eating the burrito. Eater feels scared about what will happen once burrito leaves the actual stomach. Strange intestinal problems may ensue.

10. You don't eat dinner. You vow to never eat Chipotle again. It's good, but it is not worth it. No no no.

11. One week passes. Memory of bad aftermath of Chipotle lunch is miraculously a foggy memory. Sudden craving starts to creep back in...will be fully ignited one day when you say to your self...I'm hungry, I'm busy, and I'm broke....what should I do for lunch?

never say no to panda...

 A friend sent me the link to this over a month ago, and it is pretty much the funniest thing I've seen all year. I can't get enough. Cheers, Egyptian marketing teams for Panda Cheese! You not only have a viral series of ads, but they're also effing brilliant!
P.S. Thank you for using Buddy Holly as your soundtrack. Priceless!!!!

21+5...

One thing about Halloweek is certain in my house: pure madness. Madness I say! One of my sisters' birthday is on October 29, two days later is All Hallows Eve, and two days after that is the annual celebration of my escaping the womb. True story.

So far, my birthday has been a "mish mash" of meh. My birthday party on Monday fell through. Tuesday on my birthday, party was canceled due to technicalities with my renewed driver's license, and last night the big bash was once again forced to be moved....to next week. Ye gods, am I destined to never properly celebrate the beginning of the second quarter of a century of my life? So it would seem.

However, last night I had the chance to spend time with my friends Casey, Julia, Will, and eventually Eric at the Silver Dollar, Underdogs for pool, and ended the night at the Blue Moon with some nomalicious McMenamin's beer and tots. Oh....tots. Tater tots are almost the perfect food. (No, they were not cajunized. Don't judge.)

Closing down the Blue Moon, playing pool and learning how to play sports bar shuffleboard was definitely the highlight of my birthday so far. So, thank you friends. Have your actions completely fixed the injustices that Birthday 2010 has deemed fit to present me with? No...but it's close. And I thank you.

bringing Halloweekend to a close...

Hello, Portland. Last night  I saw about half of you, children in tow, participating in a centuries-old begging ritual that I happen to ADORE, and I thought I'd share a few specific observations.

First off, a rave: the vast majority of children at the door were extraordinarily well-mannered, thoughtful, and respectful of both me and your fellow trick-or-treaters. And my friend's cat. Thanks for asking first if you could pet her... which most of you did, and every single cat-petter was extremely gentle. Thanks for that. She had a great time.

Now, to get a little bit more specific.

A rant to the band of 14-15 year old girls dressed as Playboy Bunnies. UM!? Who lets their kid go out like that? You got Starbursts, you little twits. I hope they don't get stuck in your braces.

A rave to the group of teenage girls who eschewed candy and instead collected canned goods for Loaves and Fishes. Brilliant! Sorry that I wasn't prepared and Kris' kitchen wasn't stocked enough - maybe this should become a thing next year. Instead of teenagers whoring for candy (um, literally, so it seemed), they could all bring backpacks and collect nonperishables. The fun of trick-or-treating without... well... annoying me.

A rant to obviously Lake Oswego Mom who stood at the foot of the stairs and said "Do you guys have any non-sugary stuff?" Um. Not really. It's Halloween. K might have a couple of organic Russet potatoes in her kitchen or something. If you don't want your kid to have candy, don't freakin' take them trick-or-treating. Duh.

A rave to the royally-dressed family who, instead of asking for non-sugary treats, just asked for UNICEF money and nothing else. What ever happened to UNICEF? I had a pocketful of quarters, and I gave them all to you, because you were the first people who asked, and I was about to close down shop. Also, your kids were super-sweet and your older princess made fast friends with the kitty. Teaching your children civic responsibility while not being annoying... I'm duly impressed.

A rant to the obnoxious woman who criticized my friend for having her cat on a leash ("torture", you said). Yep, she's on a leash. No, Kris don't let her run around outside. There are so many reasons behind this. When she first got this cat, Kris kept her inside all the time, but her new roommate got her a leash and tried it out. She was hesitant at first, but it turns out, the cat seems to really like it. It gives her a taste of the outdoors without Kris having to worry about her getting randomly raped by the big scary neighborhood male ghetto-cats or simply run over by a car. And something about saving the songbirds - I don't remember what, exactly, but I read it on Craigslist so it must be true. Anyhow, you think it's cruel. Yeah, she was clearly miserable. That's why she was purring and licking your child's hand.

A rave to the wandering accordion troubadour. Fun! Clever! And you're really good! I seem to remember you from last year, too... please make it a tradition! Ignore the pack of teenagers who laughed at you. While most people think accordions are annoying, EVERYONE thinks teenagers are annoying. You win.

A half-rant to the children who don't understand the phrase "take two". Yeah, I saw you palm three bite-sized Milky Ways. I don't care enough to actually rant, but don't be thinkin' you're all clever, now.

A rave to the sweetest pair of big brothers I ever saw - most 10-12 year old boys don't take care of their little tiny (3? 4?) sister quite like that. You carried her up the steps so she didn't trip in her tiny princess costume. We said to the little one, "Awww, is that your big brother?" and she said, "Yeah, he's a really sweet big brother! And [pointing at the other one] he's a really sweet big brother too!" in her tiny little voice - we performed a full choral AWWWWWWW! All three of you got big handfuls of candy.

And a rant to the trick-or-treating twenty-something couple. She was pregnant and smoking, and he got candy for both of them. I didn't even know where to start with this one. UM. If you're old enough to get down to babymakin', you're too old to be trick or treating. And you can't smoke while you're pregnant. And if you're too pregnant (and too busy smoking) to come up on my porch, and send your guy to do it for you... Jeez. You were admittedly polite and friendly, but COME ON!

And finally, a rave for all of the fantastic costumes that I saw, ESPECIALLY the non-store-bought ones. The little quarter (as in 25-cent-piece). The cat and the fiddle. The bookshelves. Thing One and Thing Two. A highly convincing and very tiny Harry Potter. Too cute, all of you. Bravo to creativity.

So, thanks, y'all. It was, overall, a great start to my night.

beggars need to stop being choosers....

Somehow I doubt that this is only a problem local to the Portland or other Oregon CL communities. Granted, Oregon has the distinction of having one of the highest rates of unemployment in the nation - and since wedding season is over, and unless my friend Courtney asks me to be her makeup artist for her December wedding, I'm pretty much out of business until next Spring or Summer and will continue to scroll the want ads for jobs. But, this has given me a chance to gut out my kids' play room, my room, every room actually...and put items up on Craigslist that we no longer need. You know. Trading the stuff in my house for those little green bills in your wallet.

Doing so has, however, turned into quite the adventure. In the course of trying to sell our items, and keep track of the "Wanted" sections for people seeking items we may be willing to part with, I've learned a few things. Perhaps those lessons will be of value to others.

1) If a for sale ad specifies a price, and does not include abbreviations such as OBO or phrases like price negotiable,or free to good home, then please don't send an email saying, "I really need that $1200 real maple wood desk you're selling, but... *insert sob story containing keywords such as 'single mom,' 'no child support,' 'god bless you' and the like*... so, can I have it for free?" You are wasting your time, and the seller's. I'm a single mom too. I'm not going to budge.

2) If you see an ad offering $60 or so for your broken laptop, and you figure that the broken laptop you have is little more than a doorstop at this point, resist the impulse to respond and sell your laptop. These individuals are banking on the hope that you are an idiot who does not know how to use Google to learn how to replace the LCD screen on your laptop - which, inevitably, is the biggest reason people think their laptops are broken! Stop giving away hundreds of dollars worth of property to people who are going to spend $50 to buy a new LCD screen and then sell your laptop BACK TO YOU as "refurbished" for $300+ dollars. Eff, email me - I'll replace the damn thing for cost of the part plus $20 for my time. Good lord.

3) #2 also applies to your broken iPhones, Palm Pilots, X Boxes and the like. These people are making oodles of money off of you - spend a little cash, get the thing fixed, and then sell it for what it's actually worth if you need money that bad. Don't sell it to these yahoos, they are ROBBING YOU BLIND.

4) Ok, so you're getting married, and you're broke, and you want a nice wedding. Most brides and grooms are broke because we humans tend to get married at around the same time the rest of our adult life is truly beginning - fresh out of school, still being paid little more than an intern, paying off student loans, buying a first house, etc. Perfectly understandable, and there's nothing wrong with looking for a good deal on wedding items. But there is a reason weddings are so expensive - because the shit involved IS ACTUALLY EXPENSIVE. Yeah, you know what? I'm probably not going to use those 50 miniature mirrors left over from my wedding centerpieces again for anything but maybe target practice - but I still had to lay out a whole bucket load of cash to buy them to begin with, and your greedy little "I want everything free for my wedding because it has to be perfect even though I expect to get it all for free" posts made, day in and day out, are NOT inspiring me to part with my targets so as to benefit you. I am more likely to break those mirrors and use them to gouge up all the other free wedding paraphernalia I might have to offer just to spite your greed and stupidity.

5) No, you don't need a washer and dryer. Would it be nice? Certainly. More convenient? Definitely. But a need? No - and especially not if you expect someone else to give you their expensive household appliances for free. Get off your ass, load up the laundry bags, and get over to the laundromat. I mean, hell, do you want us to wash the damn clothes for you as well? I did it in college with two toddlers trailing behind me, and so can you.

6) Which applies to #5 and, well, pretty much every thing else... if you are expecting someone to give you something for free, if you are here begging for free stuff, at least have the intelligence and wherewithal to find a way to pick the damn thing up. It's bad enough you want expensive shit given to you for free, but you want it hand delivered on a silver effing platter as well. Seriously? WTF?

7) As per the title of my post... Beggers, stop being choosers. If you are seeking free shit, you don't get to add conditions like, "must be from smoke-free home," or "cannot have any tears or stains," or "must still have box," or "must be pink with purple swirly dots, not purple with pink swirly dots," or "send me pictures and I'll see if it's good enough," or "must be real leather not pleather," or "no plastic wine glasses, it has to be real crystal" or whatever other ridiculous demands you're intending to make. It's FREE SHIT. Be grateful someone is willing to help your sorry ass out instead of expecting them to customize their shit to fit your greedy demands.

8) If you are going to respond to a "Wanted" ad, particularly if the item being asked for seems...oh, I don't know, potentially rare, expensive or otherwise raises the question "why are they looking for it on CL?" -GOOGLE IS YOUR FRIEND. Find out, before you sell, EXACTLY what that $500 bill the guy is offering you $600 is worth. Look up things like, "laptop screen stays dark," or "Xbox red light." Don't let your own greed overwhelm your common sense. If someone is willing to pay you for your item, maybe you'd better find out if someone else is willing to PAY MORE for it.

9) Be realistic. You are not going to get a 2000 or newer running car in good shape with no dents, scratches or mechanical problems for $400. Stop fucking asking. Yes, you're a single parent, life has shit on you, you're going to school, you have no money... the same is true for pretty much most of the rest of the world. If your transportation needs are that great, lower your damn expectations. "$400 for any half-way decent running car" is a good place to start. It's still not likely to get you a lot of responses, but at least it's more realistic.

10) FFS... if you are offering a service, stop posting it as a "Wanted" ad. What you want are customers, not ITEMS, so stop wasting our time with your "Wanted: Wedding Related" bullshit where you actually are looking for people to rent your stupid chair covers for more money than they're even worth.

11) If you are looking for someone to do web design or programming for you, post it in the Gigs section, and be prepared for those of us who do this for a living to laugh our fucking asses off at you when you say you're offering an "internship" or that you can't pay/can't pay much, but are "willing" to let us use your site in our portfolio. First of all, most of us write it into our contracts that we absolutely will be using any site design we do for you as part of our portfolios. You aren't doing us any favors... you're asking US to do YOU a favor because you're too lazy to take any of the multitude of online courses that teach HTML, CSS and php at such an easy level even my 98 year old grandmother could learn it. Secondly, we know damn well that if you're posting an ad on CL, you aren't in any position to make good on promises of "future payment when product takes off." We've been at this a long time, most of us make a good portion of our money off of freelance work, and we're not nearly as stupid as you think we are. Do you ask your surgeon to take out your appendix for free, too?

12) So you're going to be a mommy. Hooray! Let me offer my congratulations! It's completely understandable that new parents may not have the money for extras like a baby swing, a high-end stroller, pretty room decor, etc. Nothing wrong with asking for people to sell you their gently used items - when my kids grew out of their stuff, I sold it cheaply to other new moms, everyone was happy. If, however, you are sitting down to write an ad about how destitute you are, how you can't afford diapers, how you need a free crib and swing and port-a-crib, and stroller, and bouncy seat, and bassinet, and christening outfit, and clothes, and car seat, and they should all match and have pink bunnies with little green froggies...and...and...and... then really, the ad you SHOULD be writing is "seeking responsible family to adopt..." And that, my dears, comes from an adult adoptee who is typically pretty anti-adoption "in general." Namely, me.

13) Stop signing your begs with "god bless." Why? Because in so doing, you're screwing yourself. Those who would react positively to such a comment are the types who would offer you help even without the added "god bless." But you make some major huge assumptions about your audience when you add that little line, mainly, that they are all/mostly Christians. This is the internet - and on top of it, this is Oregon. It's a good bet "god bless" isn't viewed as positively as you might hope, and that a whole lot of people who might otherwise have responded with offers are going to click right back out of your post. Not because they are anti-god, or anti-Christian, or whatever - but because they see through your bullshit. They know damn well you've tacked that on hoping to play on the sympathies of "good Christians everywhere." They know you don't mean a word of it, that you're using it as a way to manipulate others. Knock...it...the...eff...off. The people you ARE fooling can't help you. The people who are NOT fooled, can help, but won't. They may not be Christians, but they don't like seeing Christians manipulated any more than they like seeing it happen to anyone else.

14) If you need help to not get evicted, not get your lights shut off, etc. - sure, you can post an ad asking for help. Who knows, someone might actually respond. But you have a better shot if you take matters into your own hands and start looking for other ways to get those bills paid. Put up a request on http://www.modestneeds.org - be prepared to PROVE your need. Go through your house and sell every damn thing you don't need - all those DVDs, your TV, your stereo, your MP3 player, your cell phone, your laptop - whatever it takes. None of those things will do you a damn bit of good without a roof or electricity, and you can live without all of them and so much more. Sell your shit! Stop expecting someone else to come rescue you. Oh, and here's a tip - when someone emails you and questions why you haven't sold your computer and shut off your cable/internet, don't lie and tell them you're posting from the library. When you email them back, they're going to check the headers on your email and run the IP address - they're going to know you're a Comcast customer, not posting from a library ISP. People don't help liars, particularly those who don't help themselves.

I'm sure there are other points I've forgotten, and I reserve the right to edit this as needed to include them.

But jeez, have a little dignity people.

P.S. I think I hurt the feelings of a few of the beggars... keep flagging, kids... I know the truth hurts.

pennies...

Are we done with the effing pennies yet?

Because it is time. The American public hasn't been using them for about a decade. They have become so worthless, that people give them to each other as a matter of routine. Get your change, pick out the pennies, and leave them there for the next guy. Need a penny or two? Well, there should be a few there for you, because the last guy sure as heck didn't want his. That's the game.

I hate when stores don't want to play by the game. If a store doesn't have a little tray, I am immediately annoyed. The hell if I'm fishing another dollar out of my pants because it came to $5.02. When that cash register rings up $5.02 and you look at me, we're fixing to have a long staredown. I'll return an item before I break another dollar and let you give me three more of the shiteous things in return. And that item probably had a profit margin of at least $.03 to you, so who's the loser now? Get it? As long as they're still around, you better play by the game.

When there is no tray, my normal routine has become to fish through my change and immediately pick them out and deposit them into the trash. Not only are they worthless, but they are disgusting, and I'm not carrying them around. Most have been in circulation for 20 years, and as the stepchild of your change purse, they have been given no love. They live in ashtrays, parking lots, and huge jars owned by 72 year old men who remember when they were worth something. Old copper is gross enough to start with. Add to the fact that they are covered in gum and shit and filth, and you need to wash your hands every time one touches you.

Think about this: a stamp costs $0.37. 37 pennies weigh 6 ounces. It takes about two stamps to mail 6 ounces of stuff. Therefore, if I wanted to mail someone 37 cents in pennies, it would cost me 74 cents. By my definition, it's pretty clear cut. When a monetary unit can't afford to mail itself, it's worthless. Don't get all cocky either, nickels.you aren't far behind. (I don't really know how much 37 pennies weigh, that was just a guess. I have a scale in my house, and would find out, but I can't. I threw out all my pennies. Just trust me though. I'm right on this general principal. I know by instinct that they can't mail themselves.)

Vending machines won't even take them. They hired engineers to assure that any penny which entered the slot would be immediately routed straight to the change opening. Think about the engineering involved. Dimes, which are smaller than pennies, go right into the till, but they had to create some sort of mechanism that would sort out and eliminate any penny that enters the machine, lest they get involved with the REAL money that is in there, and gross it all up.

Have you ever tried to give one to a bum? Seriously. I almost got in a fight in Seattle a few years ago over the fact that I gave a bum some pennies. The man had no home, was hungry, cold, and hopeless, yet when I gave him a handful of pennies, he tried to spit on me. Fortunately, his lack of front teeth seriously affected his aiming abilities and I easily dodged the saliva-based projectile..plus my boyfriend at the time held me back, but nonetheless.

Isn't this enough evidence for Alan Greenspan and the Fed to say enough is enough? I now summarize my case:

1. Pennies are considered worthless, even by homeless people
2. Pennies are disgusting
3. Pennies can't even mail themselves
4. Americans are actually giving them to strangers, like some nationwide game of hot potato
5. Vending machines are even too smart to take them. Their job is to take money, not pennies.

Case Closed. Please, Federal Reserve, I beg you. End the game.

I'm done with the effing pennies.

dear neighbors...

I hate to tell you this because as far as I'm concerned, you guys are the PERFECT NEIGHBORS.

Seriously.

I never hear a peep out of you! You're private, you keep to yourselves, yet you're both still friendly and willing to offer a wave and a smile. You never complain. You take great care of your house and yard. You guys are THE BEST! I love you. I really do.

But I really... really... really... HATE YOUR CHIHUAHUA.

Your Chihuahua barks constantly, all day long.

BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK!

I can't use (bark bark) my computer for very (bark bark) long because my room is (bark bark) on the (bark bark) same side of (bark bark) the house as (bark bark) the room in which (bark bark) you keep (bark bark) your Chihuahua, so (bark bark) the entire time (bark bark) I'm trying (bark bark) to type (bark bark) I get (bark bark) to hear (bark bark) your dog (bark bark) letting his (bark bark) displeasure (bark bark) be known (bark bark).

I can't (bark bark) turn the TV up (bark bark) loud enough (bark bark) to (bark bark) drowned out (bark bark) the noise (bark bark) because it leaves (bark bark) me with a splitting (BARK BARK!) headache and ringing ears. (bark bark)

I can't do ANYTHING in my own house without having to listen to;

BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause*
BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK!

Please don't get me wrong, I'm not an angry, anal retentive, complain-y, intolerant type of person. I have dogs too! I know how dogs can be and I understand that when you get a new dog, there's sometimes a period of adjustment.

But it's been THREE YEARS. For the love of GOD- ADJUST ALREADY!!!

Please (bark bark) please (bark bark) please (bark bark) do something about(bark bark) your dog. (bark bark) I'm BEGGING you. (bark bark) I'm LOSING my effing mind (bark bark) listing to it (bark bark) all day long (bark bark) for what (bark bark) seems like (bark bark) an endless (bark bark) eternal (bark bark) Hell.

I hear him when I'm making coffee, I hear him when I'm checking email, I hear him when I'm in the bathroom, I hear him when I'm trying to watch tv, I hear him even if the volume is on high.

I'm starting to twitch each morning when I wake up because I know as soon as I open my bedroom window, I'll be greeted with;

BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK! *pause* BARK BARK!

I'm grinding my teeth during the day (my dentist says I've lost some enamel) and I've developed headaches that last for hours, all thanks to your Chihuahua who I'm SURE is a lovely dog when he has all the attention that shivery, neurotic little Chihuahuas are known for needing.

It's just that you aren't there (bark bark) to give him (bark bark) the kind of attention (bark bark) necessary (bark bark) in order (bark bark) to keep (bark bark) him from developing (bark bark) obsessive (bark bark) compulsive (bark bark) barking (bark bark) syndrome (bark bark).

There's a Petsmart just down the street- please buy him some chew toys to keep him busy during the day. Hire a trainer. Get some tranquilizers from the vet. Call Dr. Dog.


Do whatever you have to do.

JUST SHUT HIM UP!

i just can't take it anymore!

File cabinets with draws, dressers with draws, desks with draws. There are ads all over Craigslist for furniture with "draws." Do you folks by any chance mean "drawers?" A drawer is a box-like thing that is housed in a piece of furniture and that rotates in and out. It's used for storage.

A "draw" is many things, but it is not a "drawer."

Are there really so many people who are confused about this? People in the professional world and all over the metro area? You don't know what a drawer is? I mean, I hate to be a stickler, but come ON. Not knowing how to spell drawer means you've never read *anything.* Not a work of classic literature, not a pulp novel, not a comic book, not a catalogue, not a magazine, not a newspaper. The word drawer is everywhere.

Literature: Madame Bovary kept things in drawers. Jo March used drawers. Franny and Zooey used drawers. Portnoy used drawers. Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, and the Three Investigators all solved mysteries by striking an old desk, thereby unlatching a "secret drawer."

Drawers aren't only in old literature; they are in recent, highly regarded and prize winning literature: staggering geniuses use drawers. People for whom things are illuminated use drawers.

Even in current best-sellers there are drawers. According to a millisecond-long A9.com search, on page 31 of The Story of Edgar Sawtelle (#62 in Oprah's Bookclub), "...[at] odd moments she might discover Trudy rearranging the chest of drawers..." And in Extreme Measures - a Thriller (2008), on page 271, someone opens a drawer to take out a pack of Marlboros. There are many, many, maaaaany others. It's more likely than not that any work of fiction will refer to a drawer at some point within it's pages.

In advertising: have you never heard of "top drawer service?" Even the newspaper is full of advertising references to Cost Plus World Market weekend deals on rattan wine bars with iron bottle-racks and MDP "utility drawers." Or Macy's blowout furniture "events" where bedroom sets include several items with drawers. Bed, Bath and Beyond sells things with drawers. Instructions for putting together Ikea furniture make references to these things called "drawers."

While it's possible you are confusing drawers with "draws," those flat, pull-out trays that might be on a taboret or tool chest, that's still doesn't contradict the fact that you don't read enough to know how to accurately represent that storage-box part of the furniture you are selling. You don't recognize or spell correctly the word "drawer."

Is this such a big deal? Not knowing how to spell a word? Maybe, maybe not. Though I'd perhaps be less concerned if you were having trouble spelling, say, "Czechoslovakia," or "applique," or even, "biscuit." Those words aren't as ubiquitous in our lives as the word "drawer."

But not knowing "drawer." It says something larger. Something not good.

I'm not trying to pick on anyone here. Just to say, this seems to be a disturbing trend and I hope it doesn't mean what I think it means.

Harley rider pre-ride check off list...

1. Comb baseball player goatee and mustache
2. Spend 6- hours polishing gaudy chrome pieces. Be sure people can read the Live to Ride, Ride to Live statement on gas tank lid.
3. Assure suspension can handle at least 560 pounds of rider
4. Pack cell phone and have tow service numbers programmed.
5. Look in mirror and perfect the "I'm a bad ass mofo" Harley riding scowl.
6. Affix tassels from daughters bicycle to handle bars for added "fantastical" appearance.
7. Test flashers for when bike breaks down (99% probability)
8. Put on your wrist brace to help carpal tunnel from all of the unnecessary revving
9. Leather pants
10. Gloves
11. Wrap around sunglasses
12. Skull cap (German soldier type for the real badasses). Remember to think about the SAFETY aspect/argument of loud pipes as putting that potato chip on head. The real tough guys here will wear a bandana over their face (some with a skull) to look really scary----ooooh!
13. CAT work boots (new)
14. Leather vest with some "chapter" like: North Chapter of Pig Effing Obese Attention Whore Douchebeards With Fat Ugly Loud Mouth Wives. 
15. HD t-shirt (of course). Because everyone needs to know what shop you paid $40 for a $5 hanes shirt at.
16. Remove baffles from pipes so EVERYONE can hear you going 18mph in 2nd gear at redline. Note: Most HD break down before hitting 2nd gear.
17. Starbucks gift card: This is usually your hangout--------------how tough.
18. Call friends with similar ridiculous motorcycle (WW2 outdated technology garbage) and pathetic store bought image (gay pirate from the Castro) attire. Have them ATTEMPT to meet you at the Starbucks without breaking down or crashing due to being distracted from looking at themselves in their chrome.
19. Five packs of Marlboro reds to smoke while riding to look extra cool
20. Slam a 6 pack of Zima prior to ride.
21. Saddle bags attached to pick up and store broken parts that fall off bike as you ride/push (if you can call it riding without laughing) that hunk of junk down the road.

why I'm not the perfect girl for you...

For a while now, I've been cruising on Craigslist. I get bored at night a lot, and it seems to pass the time. Usually it's in the employment sections, or I'm posting something that I will trade for money. But the personals always get me. Every guy on here seems to think that he is God's gift to mankind (not even just the women!). Joe Schmoe posts on here looking for the brilliant, model, single, virgin, wealthy etc etc girl. Do you smell that? Cause its time to wake up and take a hugeeee whiff of that Folgers.

Regardless, here's some of my commentary. (Taken directly from posts in Men Seeking Women)

I am hoping to find an athletic, fun loving white female - Ok. Athletic? So, should I like be on a team or something? Do you want me to be able to kick your ass when we wrastle? Fun loving? No. I hate fun. Fun is the worst thing ever. You try to have fun with me and the consequences will be dire.

looking for friend with beniftits - *sigh* Where do I start, young sir? There is a section dedicated solely to you getting your johnson stroked. Its called NSA! And what "beniftits" were you looking for? Perhaps some spelling/grammar lessons? I'd be happy to tutor you. Maybe I'm viewing this entirely the wrong way? Maybe you are in fact extremely clever and were using a play on words? Benef-tits? I think not.

im 6'4" 270lbs blk straight teeth - Black straight teeth? Maybe you should spend your time at the dentist rather than Craigslist. Or, use a flippin comma.

If you are fake, I have no time for you. - Sorry sugar. But honestly, you don't want to see 99% of the women out there without a little fakeness. Otherwise you'd slit your wrists. Everyone fudges the truth a little. *ahem* "No honey! You don't look fat in those jeans at all!" Would you rather me tell you what I REALLY think about you when you come up to me at *insert random bar name here*? I don't think so. BTW, you have spinach in your teeth.

I am looking for a woman who takes care of her self - I would hope that would be one of your requirements. I can't see someone asking for a woman who doesn't shower? Doesn't buy clothing that fits? Doesn't pay her bills? I'm confused.

i want to look into your eyes and tell you how much more beautiful they are than the stars. - Weed and Craigslist ads do NOT mix! Stop making me vomit. Punch me in the face or something instead! Jeez.

I am looking to meet some one special that would like to start as friends and build from there. - Really? Because I prefer marriage immediately. Eff this friends boohickey.

I also want to get to meeting without 6 mos. of useless messeges - Would 5 months be okay? I'm not sure if I'll be able to tell if you're genuinely not a serial killer until then.

im only five eight 130lbs so no big girls or bbws - I dub this the "no fatties" clause. Don't you know big girls is [sic] freaks!?!?!?! And eww, 130? I think my 85 year old grandmother weighs more than that.

I am a spontaneous person so I like to do a variety of things - I chose to spend my day doing the same thing over and over and over again. Like washing my hands. It makes me feel better. INVISIBLE BUGS! For future reference: Spontaneous: happening or arising without apparent external cause (this does not mean you like doing a variety of things, loser).

I'm 5'6'brown eyes,38 old,no child,but like. - Please press 1 for English. No child, but like. You are child-like? You like no child? You like children? Sorry, the subscription for my dumbass translator is expired.

likes to be outdoors but does not mind stayin indoors sumtimes - Is that like, breathing or not breathing? I was under the impression that indoors and outdoors were the only two options that humans had. Again, confused.

Not interested in "morally bankrupt women." - What if I'm just financially bankrupt?

Anyway, I'm ending my rant there. And, if I've pulled from your ad, and you're offended... Get the hell over it. Take some criticism and maybe you'll meet that 21 year old model virgin you're so desperately seeking.

it's me!! every girl ever!!

*knock knock*

Oh hi, how's it going? It's me! Every girl ever. I'm really looking forward to this date. I'm not nearly as attractive as you remember me being because when we met the bar was dark and you were drunk. Come on in.

Let's start off with the unavoidable tour of my incredibly typical post-college-girl apartment.

You'll notice that I went ahead and purchased everything that Ikea and Pier 1 have ever produced. There's my decorative birdcage over there even though I don't have a bird, and there's my gay wicker basket with bamboo poles in it. I don't know what the hell that's thing's all about, but I bought it.

Hey check it out, I have more candles in here than a Roman Catholic Church. Doesn't it smell like Hazelnut!? If I were to light all of my candles at once you could see my apartment from space! I effing love candles!

Come on into the living room.

Oh, I see you met my cat there. That's "Freddy Paws Jr." Why don't you pet him and act like you like cats even though you hate cats? There you go. Oh, he took a little swing at your eye there huh? Yeah, he'll do that. Hey, let's check out the kitchen.

Hey look at my refrigerator. There are pictures all over it! Look at all these pictures of me and my equally vacuous friends from college! We were so crazy! You can tell we're really good friends because our faces are all pressed up against each other like that.

And check it out, we're holding up alcoholic beverages to the camera in every single picture. That's to prove that we were partying. College was so fun! But of course I don't talk to any of these girls anymore because now they're all bitches.

Let's go back into the hallway!

Hey, before we leave I'm going to go in the bathroom for ten minutes for some mysterious reason. Why don't you sit awkwardly in my big, stupid, round papizan chair over there while you wait for me. It's like you're sitting in a hug! Be right back...

Sorry that took a half an hour, I don't know what the hell I was doing in there. Let's go!

Wow! Thanks for opening my car door for me! I'm totally going to blow that meaningless gesture out of proportion and delude myself into thinking that you're a really good guy because that's what I want to believe.

Well, here we are at the restaurant. No thanks waiter, I don't need to see a menu, just bring me some expensive things. Hey I know, while we wait, I'll tell you all about my unspeakably boring job. I hate my boss. He's a jerk! I might get another job. Maybe something in pharmaceutical sales.

Now let's talk about my family. I love my family. I want you to love my family. I want my family to love you. I want you to go golfing with my semi-retarded brother Travis. That would be so bbq damned cute!

Wow! I can't believe I ordered all this food! I have no intention of eating any of it. No thanks waiter, we don't need a box. Just throw it out.

Hey, I've got an idea, let's go to a bar and have an after dinner drink! It'll be great, it will be just like how we're drinking here, only it will be louder and we'll have to stand up. Come on!

See, isn't this better? Oh hey, what a coincidence. Look over there! It's a group of my friends that I knew was going to be here. Let's go over there so that they can judge you!

Hey, I have to go to the bathroom for a half an hour again for some reason. You can stay here and talk to my unbelievably hideous friend Christine! Christine's so ugly she scares kids! Talk to her! She has a job and a family that she wants to talk to you about too. Be right back.

I'm back! Sorry I was gone for three hours, there was a line. I want to go home now.

Well here we are at my door again. This was really fun for me and not you. You should pretend like we're going to do it again sometime! Maybe I'll see you at Target a few months from now and we can avoid eye contact because you never called me. Here, have this awkward goodnight kiss that's as empty as my soul. Good night!

it's 10 items or less, moron

I've tried to simplify it. But I just don't think they can make that message any clearer than it already is: 10 Items Or Less. It seems fairly self-explanatory, so where's the confusion? What, exactly, do some of you think that sign says?

10 Items Or Less (except for you)
10 Items Or Less (just kidding)
10 Items Or Less (unless you have deemed yourself more important than everybody else on the planet, including the seething 32-year-old cliche behind you who just wants to buy a bottle of wine and some ice cream and go home to her cat)

Okay, maybe you can't count. Well, I have a solution for that: DON'T GO TO THE GROCERY STORE ALONE. Now, I want to be perfectly clear on this point, so pay attention: If you cannot accurately count to ten you should not be allowed to leave your house without adult supervision. Got it? Good.

But you say you know how to count and how to read, you just choose to ignore the well-lit, strategically-placed 10 Items Or Less sign? Well then you belong in the same category as those imbeciles who think there should be valet parking at the dry cleaners. And those people do exist, I've seen them.

And don't tell me you don't get it. I've been to plenty of grocery stores, in plenty of states. And every last one of them had a 10 Items Or Less lane. So the wolves who raised you must have kept you under a pretty big rock if you can
t get on board with this idea: 10 Items Or Less means 10 Items Or Less. Period. End of discussion. Let someone in with 11 items and you will find yourself on a very slippery slope, my friend.

And for those of you ready to pull the language card: forget about it. 10 Items Or Less translates (more or less). En espanol: 10 articulos o menos. Auf deutsch: 10 punkte oder weniger. Pa norsk: 10 Ting Eller Mindre. Did you notice anything? A pattern perhaps?

The number 10. Not 13, not 14, not 15, and because it's not the "Divisible By 10" lane, 20 (the very concept of 20) makes my brain hurt. And don't insult my intelligence, I'm not stupid (I may have too much time on my hands, but I'm not stupid), don't even try to put one of those little dividers between items 1-10 and 11-20. That molded piece of plastic doesn't impress me and it doesn't change a damn thing.

And now for the cashiers: listen up because you have a hand in this mess too (and before anybody gets their panties in a twist, I can say this because I, too, was once a grocery store cashier). I realize that being a grocery store cashier may not afford you the same power as, say, being the Pope, but you have got to seize opportunities where you can.

The Express Lane can be a daunting and demanding mistress, I know, I've been there. But you can handle her. After all it's your deft agility and fierce commitment to getting me out of that store as fast as humanly possible that got you to the Express Lane in the first place. You don't ask how I am or how my day was, mostly because you couldn't care less, but more importantly, you don't ask because you are focused. Focused on not seeing me for one second longer than is absolutely necessary.

And I love you for that.

So dammit, grab that Express Lane by the short and curlies and don't let go. You can't let the inmates run the asylum. If you see someone coming at you with a basket so woefully overloaded that one shoulder may permanently hang lower than the other, take a stand. By God, put your foot down and end this madness. Believe me, I've got your back. I also have a nice Chardonnay and a pint of Chunky Monkey and am not afraid to use either of them.

slurring on reel: ms hannigan

Halfway through the sixth viewing of the film Annie with a couple of spellbound kids, something struck me beyond the great score,  brilliant casting and choreography: Miss Hannigan.

Spectacularly played by the great Carol Burnett, Miss Hannigan goes down as the single greatest movie drunk I’ve ever seen. Well, Lee Marvin runs a close second in his role in Cat Ballou, but Burnett plays the role with such gusto, joy and credibility that you can’t help but fall in love with her. Again and again.

From the scenes where she passionately kisses her radio, bumps into swinging light bulbs and grasps her head in pain as the orphans shout, to the decreasing sigh tones as she swallows one glass after the next of cheap booze, this is an acting feast that you want one serving of after the next.

Bathtub gin...the breakfast of champions

The hair, the make-up and costumes and her ability to imitate the voices of her little “pig-droppings” is unparalleled.

Who the hell else could pull off  the following punch-line?

Grace: What about this child?

Miss Hannigan: Annie?… Oh, you don’t want Annie.

Grace: Why not?

Miss Hannigan: Because… Because she’s a drunk!

Brilliant. And I’ve attached a clip below for your viewing pleasure.

That. That right there is made me want to be an actress. Not because  I'm a drunk in real life and art imitates reality, but because she's my dream role. So lovable despite her downfalls. However....


Ms. Hannigan was seriously misunderstood.

I get that now. She was no evil villain! What the story neglects to tell you is how Ms. Hannigan had to spend YEARS dealing with TEEN girls. They don't SHOW that part in the movie. They don't SHOW how HORRIFIC Annie would have been during puberty! I mean, she was a REDHEAD! Can you even imagine the torture she would have endured when Annie turned, say,  19!?

OF COURSE she hated little girls because she KNEW that they grow up to be money sucking, time sucking, blood sucking black holes in the universe. NO WONDER they love vampire stuff so much! It's in their NATURE.

Seriously someone needs to do the untold Ms. Hannigan story. I gotta say I am MORE than ready to take a bath of cheap imitation gin too! I totally GET HER !