ya know?

Since i seem to be obsessed with common language barf-ups and idiosyncracies, this video - sent to me by my good pal Jamileh - was right up my alley. And since it was all typographyish and designy, i was able to get Josh to watch it with me.

Typography from Ronnie Bruce on Vimeo.

Bye Bye Birdie

A rite of passage 4 years in the making occurred in our little family yesterday. Cosmo, who is a member of the species felis silvestris catus, finally FINALLY F I N A L L Y did a felis silvestris catus-like thing and deposited a small dead creature on our doorstep. (it was a bird) Here's the thing: Cosmo is a mean, ornery, domineering animal. He is short on affection and long on demands. He abandoned such trivial practices as 'play' years ago and his relationship with us now consists mostly of:
-'FEED ME, SIMPLETONS.'
-'FEED ME MORE.'
-'NO. YOU WILL NOT WRAP A PRESENT OR CUT A SEWING PATTERN ON THIS PARTICULAR PART OF THE FLOOR- I DECIDED I WANT TO LAY HERE. WAIT FOR ME TO FINISH.'
-'LET ME IN, KNUCKLEDRAGGERS.'
-'LET ME OUT, DAMN YOU.'
-'LET ME BACK IN AND FEED ME MORE FOOD.'
-'EXCUSE YOUR FACE, I'M TRYING TO GET TO THE WINDOW. I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE SLEEPING.'
-'MOVE YOUR BOWL DOWN SO I CAN BIFF AT YOUR CHEERIOS WITH MY PAW. NOW.'
-'LET ME OUT. YOU AND THE WHITE CREATURE BORE ME.'
-'TAKE YOUR HAND OFF MY FUR, YOU'LL MAKE IT DIRTY.'
-'I HATE YOUR ANKLES, HOLD STILL WHILE I MAKE THEM BLEED AS PUNISHMENT FOR EXISTING.'
-'DON'T BOTHER ME, I'M SHARING A SPECIAL MOMENT WITH THIS BLANKET AND THIS BLANKET LIKES ME JUST THE WAY I AM.'
(imagine all of that said in a voice similar to a Stewie Griffin's, only more bored, and maybe with a touch of Willem Defoe)

In light of this less than loving situation, for him to leave us a present (even one as misunderstood as a dead, possibly diseased thing) is nearly stunning in its implications. HE LOVES US, he just has a hard time saying it for fear of rejection. We were very moved; so much so that we mounted the dead bird to a board and hung it on the mantle with the date and some of Cosmo's paw prints as a signature.

Well, there's always the possibility that he truly hates us and deposited the bird on the doorstep much like the ol' horse head in the mattress message. That's probably more likely. It's surely more of a 'You're next, bitches' message than a 'Thank you for rescuing me from the jaws of euthanization and always giving me food and shelter and medical care and staying up late to make sure i come home in one piece instead of making me spend the night outside with the fugly possums and sketchy alley cats.' Of course, there's no way of proving that he didn't:
-Find a the bird already dead and drag it around out of boredom until he found something more interesting to be creepy with.
-Steal the prized kill from the neighbor's cat (i call him Catsumoto because he looks like a samurai. What? it's funny!) with whom he has a 2.5 year staring contest rivalry, and claim it as his own.
-Systematically lace the earth with arsenic and other chemicals, causing local insects to absorb it and build up a tolerance and thus poison and kill the bird that ate the insects. (Do not put it past him. The minute you declare anything as 'beyond him' is the minute he decides that is how he will destroy you.)
-Kill the bird as a representation of his tough catliness to send a message to all the neighborhood kitties (there are plenty). Our yard may look like a litter box, but it's his litter box and his only. Know about it.

i suppose the case of the toe-up doorstep bird will remain a mystery until our giant angry beast of anger is caught in the act of being something less than diabolical and more like a pet.

return of the texts

Another round of going through my phone and finding funny texts, usually without contexts and always accurately transcribed. 

This female will steal my soul through my pizzle!

me want beer. 

As long as you smell like Anthro.

We might have to bake two so we can eat one. Maybe we can turn Pete's twin cake into a hoarcrux. 

Is he butch or the kid?

Projectile vomitting: not as funny or as fun as the movies make it out to be. 

I'm listening to the funniest slut ever talking out loud on her cell in starbucks!

Wayne just brought us a still twitching gopher.

Supposably she is a college gratuate!

It makes me happy to know that people in the business world read that book. Like somehow it will be ok somehow...

Today is the day you emerged from your mother's va-jay-jay. Way to go!

For your birthday present i was wondering if i might be able to borrow your vacuum?

Georgia Nicholson is the Mighty B in six years. 

Babysitting when you're drunk is really hard. 

We'll let you know if we find crab people in the caves.

By the way, would u like a small used dog?

Steve just asked "didn't we just sing this last week?"

My riblets hurt.

Look at you go with your golf references!

Not if I poke holes in your condoms!!

That "so you like throwing up" brochure was kinda sad and awesome.

And to the republic of awesomeness on which she stands!

Oh gawd save me from the crazy in laws. My mouth is numb from fake smiling and my throat is sore from yelling into hearing aids.

They put stalls in the restroom so now 3 girls can pee in different toilet!

You'll be happy to know Stella just pooped on your neighbor's fence

There is/are an unnatural number of crows gathering in my apple orchard right now. I'm uncomfortable.

I'm still happy today that Rashida jones reminds you of me. Am i vapid and vain because of that?

But if anyone asks I'm gonna say it's real, obvi.

The Flatulance Gods must be getting back at me with your dog

I've had two martinis and a PBR in two hours. DRUIUUUUUNK!

That was for all the people that want me to get pregnant.

Mental connection make: Shakira sounds like the Target lady from SNL

Less than a minute ago I said, "I love toast."

Watching Toddlers and Tieras. What is WRONG with these people?!

Whatevs. Have fun eating NOTHING!

My life's quality is measured by whether or not i remember deodorant.

And isn't this a little more serious than  a TEXT?!

The prophets have spoken!

I meant OMG sarcastically not for reals, just to clarify.

That song that paula abdule sings w/the dancing animated cheetah is on the radio. Seriously?! Talk about a hostile wrk place.

Out on your crazy pants!

we just call it "driving"

When you guys are here we're forcing you to go help us pick out and cut down an Xmas tree! And drink cider and wear scarves! And LIKE IT!!!

How was jury duty? Did you wear your princess leia costume and tell them you were telepathic?

I'm headed into a recording studio to add my voice to some na na nas on the new mxpx Xmas song. Weird.

When you come visit we can have sing alongs!!!

Right. Your little black and white one with bulgy eyes.

We have a customer who introduces herself as "raven rain....also Cathy."

She's super random and kind of dorky like us- so if you can say something about pee or poo she'll bee your bff.

Ya but they're prob fat

That'd be a killer cupcake if it was all one!

Haha! shut up, you're super cute, even if you look kinda bi

How come in the prehistoric days all the animals were giant, but the humans were not?

I'm on a fantastic combo of midol and dayquil right now. Super lucky. 

I can totally wait. I just got flipped off by a homeless man.

You and I are finally going to have our FNL marathon. Jervis be praised.

I meant JEEBUS be praised.

But jervais can take some credit too, I guess...

only suitable for adults

My dear comrade, and first of thousands of roommates, Ashley (of the Northern California Ashleys) is also a blogger. And whence directed to her blog by its author (meaning her), i was greatly amused to find, before i could observe the blog, a warning from the good people at Google and Blogger. "The blog that you are about to view may contain content only suitable for adults," it declared. "In general, Google does not review nor do we endorse the content of this or any blog." i laughed. Of course Ashley's blog would come with a warning! i half-expected to also hear a husky-voiced man tell me intensely, "The blog you are about to view is rated BL MALVSC. It is intended for mature audiences only." (is it sad that i have that tv rating boiler plate language memorized? yes, a little. But i do watch a great deal of Rescue Me.) Having accepted the warning and perused the blog, i can't really figure out why it's only suitable for adults. i see very little of Ashley's usual colorful jargon, no mention of that one very adult word she taught me in 11th grade, and no dirty pictures. A simple 'holy $#i!' seems to be the extent of the adultry (a word i just made up, not to be confused with adultery), and i learned that word in 2nd grade (i ran out with a rough crowd).

Anyway, Ashley runs. i only run when i'm being chased, and even then i'm more inclined to either-

A. Curl up in a ball and hope to be killed/devoured quickly and mercifully, or

B. Do what no fictional chasee ever thinks to do, which is run like hell for a short distance, then hide like hell and wait for the chasers to run by before you double back and stroll, whistling, to safety. Seriously. i spend most of the Bourne movies (which i do love, btw. Call me, Damon.) thinking, 'if he just tucked himself away in a good spot he could easily evade the baddies.' Then i think, 'i would be happy to tuck away with him' but then we're veering all to closely into the aforementioned adultery.

Like music/food/literature/jesus, everyone has different tastes in exercise. i prefer to go to a gym and take a kickboxing class with 20 strangers and a psychotically peppy instructer. Ashley prefers to run long distances in public. That's her prerogative, which i happen to think is bananas. Sometimes she even PAYS for the privilege to get up at ungodly hours and run long distances in strange cities. She is perfectly welcome to do that, i happen to think she's Mentally Askew. In case i haven't made myself clear, i honor Ashley's choices, ridiculous and bass-akwards as they are. (here's where i admit that my 2nd favorite part of that cinematic gem, Talladega Nights, is Ricky Bobby saying 'with all due respect' and then saying something completely, baldly, disrespectful.)

Clearly, i am incapable of making a blog post about Ashley into anything other than a post about myself.

Ashley also teaches high school English. You can decide which is a more alarming and punishing habit to willingly undertake. She runs because she teaches, kind of like 'daddy drinks because you cry.' (i don't know where i saw/heard that but i can't even think of it without laughing out loud.) You could say, she blogs because she runs because she teaches. To be obnoxious to anyone masochistic enough to still be reading this post, i read because she blogs because she runs because she teaches. In the house that Jack built to catch the spider to catch the fly, alpha and omega, amen.

Her blog is about running and teaching and the highs and lows of both. Also, she's one of the most disciplined people i know, and has been since even before she taught me that one particular very bad word in 11th grade. She's also kind of a riot, so even if you are smart or chicken enough to not have gone into teaching, or if you're self-respecting enough to not do absurd things like Run Voluntarily, i do believe you'll enjoy yourself whilst reading her blog. Here it is. It's also in the list of 'Comrades' to the right. No, your other right.

an apology

In light of the ten year reunion, i made a preunion party playlist my pals and i could enjoy. i made the list out of the Billboard charts from the year of our graduation, 1999 and a little from 1998.

i spent the next week humiliated and apologetic.

i had forgotten or had never realized how excrutiatingly awful that time was in the world of music. This is me saying "I'M REALLY SORRY, WORLD, FOR THE MUSIC MY GENERATION INFLICTED UPON YOU." We punished you with the following diseases of sound:

Ricky Martin's 'Livin' La Vida Loca'
Sugar Ray's 'Every Morning'
Cher's 'Believe'
Smash Mouth's 'All Star'
Celine Dion's 'My Heart Will Go On'
LFO's 'Summer Girls'
Will Smith's 'Miami'
and of course...'Hit Me Baby One More Time' by Britney Spears.

Here's the thing about 1999: it was pre-myspace, pre-iTunes and, in a way, pre-internet. Very few of my friends even had email addresses, much less the savvy or resources to find any sort of music that wasn't in heavy rotation on the radio or on MTV...which was beginning its downward slide into 'TV not having anything to do with M'. And i don't think i need to explain how asinine the radio stations around here were. And are. "Indie band" wasn't in our vocabulary, and since we lived in Redding and not a bigger or more cultural town like LA, Sacramento or even Chico, there were no shows to attend. So, there were a few GOOD albums released in the waning years of the 90s, albums like Beck's 'Midnite Vultures', Jeff Buckley's 'Grace', and Sigur Ros's 'Ágætis byrjun', but we didn't hear them.
At the mainstream level, the late 90s were about the end of grunge and rock and the beginning of bubblegum pop, the boy band, and of course, the country cross-over (thanks a million, Shaniah Twain, still haven't forgiven you). There were a few gems that made their way to the masses, Lauryn's Hill's 'Miseducation' album had several great singles, the Chili Peppers put out 'Californication' and Tom Petty made 'Wildflowers', but overall it was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad time. We're sorry. If i give you Dave Grohl will you forgive? Here's one of the un-bad things to come out of 1999, the Foo Fighters with 'Learn to Fly', with a little Tenacious D thrown in for giggles.

Foo Fighters - Learn To Fly

Marco|MySpace Videos

screw 'em

i was born in 1981, so i was not alive for the 1980 Miracle on Ice at the Lake Placid Olympics. i saw the movie whilst on my honeymoon in Lake Tahoe and loved it; i'm a huge sucker for a sports movie, i think most people are. Kurt Russel's performance was fantastic. Here he is, as coach Herb Brooks, giving the speech before the game that made history:

Goosebumps! love the accent and clipped speech pattern and i watch it thinking, 'oooh i hope they wind their hockey game!' that's how easy it is for me to get caught up.

Anyway, this funny little kid grew up hearing about the Miracle on Ice from his dad and memorized the speech from the movie. It cracks me up! like, screw sponge bob! i wanna wear a tie a look like a hockey coach from 1980! He's only 4 in the video, so i'm pretty sure he's not even reading the paper in his hand. Check it out:

Good stuff! Here's the Yahoo story if you want more.

wobbly bits

This is my friend and once-upon-a-coliseum-roommate Erin, who looks very cute in this picture alongside a greenly-adorned scary lady who is about to try to eat your pet bird. (Man, am i glad that's not me! Can you imagine?? Gah!) Erin has brought herself into the blogosphere and the world of jewelry making. These forces combine like all good combining forces: into candy. Orrr a great blog. Roll the quotes:

These are the nonoffensive phrases my friends and family use to describe their wonder and amazement each time I lose my keys, forget some important event, or misplace a giant kitchen appliance (fine, it was a refrigerator, but I've only lost two in my lifetime).

Now I have to work my oxidizing nerve up all over again, and also buy more eggs.

Notice - I am NOT creating this blog for expert jewelry makers, or Pretty Good jewelry makers or EVEN Not Very Good but Still Managing to Sell that Junk jewelry makers.

These dangly bits are considered by me to be lovely adornments and should not be confused with 'wobbly bits', which generally refer to cellulite-prone body parts that are to be hidden under a sheet while getting dressed next to your sleeping lover.

For more on Erin and her lovely creations which will soon be in an Etsy store near you, visit http://makingprettythings.blogspot.com/

odds and ends

or, if we're speaking in Jeopardy categories, which we should be. always., "Potpourri."

We were awokended in the wee hours of the night/morning/i don't know because i can't read the clock without my contacts in by the ferocious growling of our dog all the way on the other end of the house. Now, Penny is a snorer and sometimes an active dreamer, but intense growling is not part of her nighttime routine. The doorbell, as it does for most dogs, exhibits a very dramatic reaction, as does the opening of the side-yard gate, arborists, little old ladies passing out Mormon magazines, and the occasional child walking home from school. Needless to say, she is territorial. So when growling to raise Beelzebub's goosebumps commences in the middle of the night, we naturally assume we're about to get: robbed, tied up, fed our own fingers and toes, and then hacked into pieces by a very bad baddie, in that order. Being the brave, modern woman i am, i sent my husband out in his underpants to investigate. It was worse than a bloodthirsty killer and all the more worthy of such a chilling growl of defense: it was a possum, smaller than our cat, moseying through the leaves. DANGER! We've done the possum dance before (it's nothing like the foxtrot) and haven't had an issue since. This was probably a rogue wanderer but he/she continued in the tradition of his/her forepossums by making sure we got no sleep. Once you're awoken (or awakened or wokeded up) with your life flashing before your eyes, it's hard to drift back to dreamland.

Second. i had jury duty today; i arrived at 8 and left at 4 and was not chosen to serve. i was the 5th person called to the box in the morning and was fully prepared to serve. In the end, the defense excused me and i'm pretty sure i know why. The potential jury was presented with a hypothetical situation by the defense. Say a police officer testified, 'it was night time,' and a civilian testified, 'it was day time,' and there was no physical evidence to corroborate either claim. Would you have a bias toward or against one of the testimonies? i raised my hand, in the complete assumption that there would be others in agreement. Mine was the lone hand. (cue tumbleweed) i was asked to explain, and i said that i would be more inclined to believe a police officer's testimony in the case of a 'he said/she said' situation. "Without knowing the background of either person?" the defense attorney asked, "simply because the police officer is a police officer?" Yes. A police officer's testimony is more credible to me, i said, because i trust the institution that installed that individual as a police officer. If the civilian's background included a similar level of credibility, then i would have to decide between the two testimonies or discard them both. But without backgrounds? Yeah, i'm going to go with the officer of the law. Do i think there are shady police out there? Yup. i also think there are moral mobsters. But i'm going to err on the side of the person sworn to uphold the law and trained to observe and assess situational details. The defense attorney posited my perspective to a few other jurors and their responses were along the lines of, 'Noooo! i wouldn't be biased, i would be fair and uphold the judicial laws of America, KALLIE.' It was really annoying and kind of surreal. i honestly didn't expect the rest of the jury to completely throw me under the bus. Here's the thing: from the time we're old enough to understand 'blue uniform' and 'badge', we're taught to unilaterally trust police officers, are we not? You get lost from mommy and daddy in the park? Find Officer Friendly and it will be okay! (And his cousin Firefighter Friendly is busy getting your kittycat out of the tree!) But now that you're an adult and paying taxes and dealing with things like the safety of your neighborhood, we want you to treat police officers like every John or Jane you ignored or were scared of in the park that day 30 years ago. Huh?? Whatever, Mr. Defense Attorney. You were shifty and in gross need of a haircut. And whatever, Other Potential CoJurors. You were all lying because you wanted to be picked for the Varsity Jury Team.

Third, Matt Damon is a brilliant actor. He really is. i can't wait to watch Good Will Hunting on the Turner Classic Movies channel with my grandchildren. Except by then tvs will be embedded in our fingers and our phones will be biologically programmed in our thumbs.

Fourth, we're going to see how long we can go before we turn on the heater this year. Place your bets.

Fifth, my favorite, favorite, favorite boots are on their farewell tour, since i've more than worn out the $13 i paid for them. They can't be worn in inclement weather, given the deteriorating soles. Get your tickets to the swan song.

rite of awkward

Dear Ten Year High School Reunion,

You were weird.

You declared ten years had passed and we, the graduating class of FHS in the year of our lord 1999, should therefore reunite, we who had little in common beyond sharing formative years in the institution determined by the state of California as the adequate option pertaining to the address our parents chose for their homesteads. 

When we last saw each other, we formed our bonds mostly immaturely: economic status, height-weight ratio, and clarity of complexion were all criteria alongside more trivial matters like disposition, interests and hobbies. So upon leaving high school and, for most, the homes and identities of our families, we forged our own identities and learned to make friends with like-minded people. Then for one night (or 3 days) you put us back in a room together and we all interacted on this foundation: once upon a time we were friends because we kinda dressed the same. Now, we may or may not have anything in common. That's awkward. It's fun too, but awkward. You're a strange system. 

Anyway, thanks for reminding me that The High School Boyfriend is totally overrated, that High School Popularity leads to cigarette smoking and conspicuous thinness, that my peeps were and are the best peeps, and that i really, really suck at small talk.

Sincerely,

Kallie

song #3

Oh baby, top 3. Here we go.

The number 3 song in my top 15 songymost songs is "Maps" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. i heard this song on the radio when i was living in San D and Whitney was savvy enough to know i needed the whole album. i love the guitar/drum intro of it and the beat in general is sublime. The lyrics, though minimal, are a little confusing if you don't the story behind the song. Karen O, the lead singer, wrote the song about/for her then-boyfriend Angus as he was leaving to go on tour with his band. According to internet lore, 'MAPS' is an acronym for 'My Angus Please Stay.' i like listening to it because it's so musical, but i LOVE the lyrics of the chorus: "Wait! they don't love you like i love you." It's so devoted and so desperate. The thing about being married to the spouse i have is that everyone adores him to the utmost, but i feel the same way about Josh as Karen felt about Angus. No matter how he's worshipped, none of 'them', the faceless fans, loves him like i love him. Here is the official music video, watch it! it's the 3rd best song ever. i promise.

Maps by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs