I Like Ike...but not his memorial

Have you heard about President Eisenhower's Memorial?
Frank Gehry designed it, and since Ike is dead, his relatives are the ones giving the feedback.

They don't like it, and after looking at the models and drawings of it, I can say I don't like it either, and (rather presumptuously, I admit) say I don't think Ike would have liked it either.


Gehry said (rather pompously and enigmatically): "the imagery has a peacefulness and gravitas to it that creates a suitable environment."  What he is referring to are these huuuuuge sheets of metal mesh that will be suspended around a park-like area. Gehry insists they represent the American heartland and Ike's upbringing in Kansas.  Metal? Symbolic of America's heartland. I don't think so Frank.


Here are some images so you can see what I'm ranting about!

This last one is the kind of metal they are looking at using--
and the sheets of it would be massive, bigger than the entire Hollywood sign.

Some of these mock-ups depict the metal as sheer...obviously it isn't.

It is so heavy and depressing (it looks like rusty bandage wraps to me) that it would seclude the memorial--visually cutting it off from the rest of the National Mall, which was designed to be open.

This design is far too industrial and radical and the pieces of it are so disparate! They don't tie together so it ends up looking like 5 memorials blended together. 

This looks like another case of Gehry being self-indulgent. 

He needs to read some biographies or Eisenhower and try to wrap his head around what Ike would have wanted, rather than trying to get more attention and recognition for himself. 

More outrage

Eisenhower fam protests

http://eisenhowermemorial.org/

pictures of Jack Nicholson never get old

and other randoms...

I love Jack Nicholson. And so this article makes me very very happy.

Other things (taken from my real life!) that never get old include:

Surprises! Good surprises, that is, like finding the Cadbury ice cream bars in your freezer that you forgot about...as opposed to someone riding in the backseat of your car finding a tupperware of week-old cream cheese wontons that you forgot about.

Getting asked out by a senior citizen as you enter the hardware store...and then being followed to your car by him as you leave the hardware store. I have never seen anyone with a walker move so quickly! Jeeezus!

Drunk FaceTiming with Vicky.

Seeing the floor in my closet.  At this point I can't even remember what color it is. I've made a habit of dedicating at least 15 minutes every day to putting clothes away...and I've been doing that for 5 days but am continually surprised at how deep my pile of crap is.
And the things I find in it! Foreign money, Special K blueberry bars that you could use as night sticks, gummy bears (loose), pizza coupons, sticky notes that are months old, dozens of lippies, a toy dinosaur, a printout of Nixon's leering mug, a brochure for skin cancer, and an empty pack of Orbit.
I've heard of garage and yard sales...should I invent the closet sale???

my deodorant working.
I think I have a paranoia about my armpits--always thinking they're too hairy, dirty, that I stink, that my deodorant isn't working. I have a few deodorants that I cycle through because I swear to God my body gets used to them and I am sitting on my butt at work literally not exuding any energy at all and I can feel my pits getting damp.
Gross, I know. So it is an exciting day when I feel fresh and dry the whole day through!

Spying on the neighbors.
And boy, do we have a mix. For loving our apartment and the location, we could certainly do without everyone else in the complex. It attracts a weird bunch. We've got a hell child born of a jackal (his name is even Damen), plenty of guys that love to repair their motorbikes loudly during the day and race them around even more loudly after 11pm, an Arab woman that tsk tsks me if I am exposing my upper chest or thighs, a man that stands in the parking lot staring at nothing in particular, a verbally abusive couple that are constantly leaving each other, too many kids screaming in Spanish to count, the weird bachelor downstairs that you have to avoid or else you'll be 40 minutes late to wherever you're going, the pot-smokers that have a huge pine tree covering most of their patio, the retired general next door and his creepy quiet wife (I dropped my hummingbird feeder on their patio by accident once and had to go get it), and the nutters across the way with sheer red curtains and an old woman in a rocking chair that spy back at me.
Yes, it is ghetto and flat out scary sometimes (a guy was shot to death a few months ago!), but we are paying ridiculously little for it and we've only had the cops called on us for a noise complaint once, the heater and AC both work, we have a dishwasher, and the bath water is always steaming hot. And we're allowed to have pets.
Plus it is the best people watching ever! Like my own Rear Window.

Neck rubs.

Crackers.

When people say "time suck" or "buzz word." They just make me giggle, dunno why.

Gossiping about dead people. This is a much-beloved pastime of historians and one of my favorite things that comes with the territory.
Which reminds me-- have I mentioned how much I love Drunk History? I forced people to watch more than 2 episodes last night and then interrupted Vicky's sleep (well...she doesn't sleep much so I didn't really interrupt...but still, it was 3am her time and I was tiddly and shrieking at her about how we didn't make any drunk history movies while she was here). It is very important to me.

Bird-watching.

Opening bottles of champagne.
I almost took one of the budgie's heads off last night. And only realized we were out of paper towels when it had fizzled over everywhere.

Ridiculous animal pictures.Observe:

conversations with my husband

This happened yesterday.
Me: "I need to change that fishbowl."
Eli: "yep."
Me: "It is so gross and I don't have a fish net so I have to use my hands."
Eli: silence.

Me: "well it won't clean itself."

So I took it to the sink and scooped out the goldfish, and then went after the frog.
Me: *SCREAM!!!!!!*
Eli: "is the chicken tortilla soup okay?! You didn't spill it did you?!?!"
Me: "No.....but the frog just jumped into the juicer and then almost went down the drain and when I finally got him out and put him in the bowl he spit out a piece of carrot pulp!!"
Eli: silence.


Me: "well...he made it."
Eli: *smiles*


Hardly anything I do surprises this man anymore!  Except this:

Last night, when I stole an entire tray of matchbooks off of the bar at the bowling alley (one at a time, like a true klepto..waiting to see how long it would take the waitress to notice).....that surprised him.


Disclaimer: No, I am not a kleptomaniac, I was just tipsy at the bar and I'm a bit of a pyro. I love matchbooks. And they were complimentary anyway.

when you want to throw up and eat at the same time

you know that feeling?
My body is being ravaged with it right now.

I am super nauseous but instead of wanting to throw up and feel better, all I want right now is a big lunch (some kind of melty sandwich...like a grilled panini with ham and bacon and cheese) and a nap.

I tried eating a banana. Nothing. Took 2 Pepto Bismol tablets. Still feel shitty.
So I am concluding that this awful queasiness is my body telling me to eat.
Seems counter intuitive, right?
And where on earth is this grossness coming from? I don't feel hungover, and I don't think I drank enough last night to feel hungover, I just feel SICK. Though last night's drinking simply cannot be helping. I haven't had champagne in a while.

I think I got it from my co-workers. They are dropping like flies--most of them have those indistinguishable lurgies, but the girl I sit next to has a TUMMY BUG and her main symptom? You guessed it--nausea. To the point that I could hear her dry-heaving in the bathroom. Yikes.
She was sick for days and I kept harassing her about being pregnant but now that I've got it, it ain't so funny. Though someone being sick never is funny, unless it is ironic or deserved (I've always wanted to see footage of Hitler with a severe head cold).

Last night was enjoyable. It was our friend's birthday and we stuffed our faces with my homemade chicken tortilla soup and cornbread, made him drink his first 40, watched How I Met Your Mother, and went bowling. I think we all forgot it was a work night--I'm going to bed at 7pm tonight!

And now enough of my complaining, image time!
Since there are only 2 days left in May I'm trying to cram as many in as possible!

they can't get away this time

“All right, they're on our left, they're on our right, they're in front of us, they're behind us... they can't get away this time."

That's what Chesty Puller said when surrounded by 8 enemy divisions. What a guy!

Instead of getting intimidated and losing his wits, he turned a negative into a positive, one of the hardest things to do in life and something I am in the midst of right now.
I am leaving my job in a couple of weeks, and although it will be a relief (The Boss's Alzheimer's is just too much for us to have a functional relationship and he refuses to retire), there is the anxiety of finding another job. Oh boy. And I have gotten close to quite a few people in my office, not surprising considering how small it is--in a lot of ways we are like a highly dysfunctional family.
That eats a LOT of pizza and cake (I will probably lose weight once I leave!!).

But you can't start the next chapter in your life if you're still re-reading the past one.

And so, here are some image-'o'-the-day to make up for the ones I've missed lately!

I just don't have time for more

Too much shit going down today to really write.
And I wouldn't want to talk about it even if I did have the time.

So I leave you with the image of the day and a quote:

The Chinese use two brush strokes to write the word 'crisis.' One brush stroke stands for danger; the other for opportunity. In a crisis, be aware of the danger - but recognize the opportunity.
-JFK

What to do when the toilet overflows

Step 1:  When you hear your pal screaming for you to come quick, don't say "be there in a minute"  
             and brush it off.

Step 2:  When she starts screaming in a more panicked way, get your ass into the bathroom.
              Ignore the smell, the raw sewage flooding the floor, and try to get at the water knob to    
              turn the damn thing off.

Tip:  Do not wear your long sweatpants into the flooded bathroom. They may be ruined.

Step 3: Use multiple rolls of paper towels to sop up the mess.
            Don't run out of paper towels. It makes things a lot lot lot worse. Trust me.

Step 4: Survey the damage and toss anything that has been contaminated. Your husband's shaving  
            ditty bag, bath mats, trash cans, etc.

Step 5: Laugh about it with your friend. Discuss the random absurdity and grossness of it.


Tip: Treat yourself to a strong cocktail at this point and call maintenance.


I was out buying new bath mats today (to replace the ruined ones) and realized I never related this story.
When Vicky was in town we had this incident. It was awful!
We had never had a problem with that toilet.
We had a party, and the next morning, this happened. Vicky flushed it and everything came back up (no, she did not clog it---we think some drunk fool put a plastic party cup in it the night before).

And let me tell you....dealing with the stench of this when you are hungover is possibly the worst thing ever.
Or at least the worst thing to have happen when you are hungover.

We called our apartment's maintenance and they said it "is not an emergency because you have another toilet."
So we had to wait more than a day for them to come and repair the thing and we had candles burning, essential oils, air fresheners taking over our place just to mask the disaster.

Right after it happened, Vicky and I turned to each other and gave one another that look and said "this could only happen to us."
If the toilet does happen to flood (and I mean FLOOD---Noah's Ark style insanity), it is best to have your best friend by your side.  Because then there is at least a little humor in the situation.
And that's all I have to say about that.

Hot... and a Dumb Mess.

As a self-esteem boost to all us normal people in the world:


Did you hear about the guido checking alligators in the swamp for shoes? Ha.


Watch this video. Laugh real hard.


And look at these and remember that appearance isn't everything. And is, in fact, ridiculous most of the time:

And...of couse, the necessary dumb blonde joke:

A blonde had just totaled her car in a horrific accident. Miraculously, she managed to pry herself from the wreckage without a scratch and was putting on fresh lipstick when the state trooper arrived.
"My God!" the trooper gasped. "Your car looks like an accordion that was stomped on by an elephant. Are you OK ma'am?"
"Yes, officer, I'm just fine" the blonde chirped.
"Well, how in the world did this happen?" the officer asked as he surveyed the wrecked car.
"Officer, it was the strangest thing!" the blonde began. I was driving along this road when from out of nowhere this TREE pops up in front of me. So I swerved to the right, and there was another tree! I swerved to the left and there was ANOTHER tree! I served to the right and there was another tree! I swerved to the left and there was ...."
"Uh, ma'am", the officer said, cutting her off, "There isn't a tree on this road for 30 miles. That was your air freshener swinging back and forth."

how to save a bone

Now that The Boss is out of town, I have more time to write.
Also, I am not in my own cubicle (AKA the glass house. I feel like a beta fish) for the next little bit--since the receptionist has gone all aloha, I am manning the front desk. And it is a sunken-type deal (no better way to describe this), so I can sit here and type away and clients can't see what I am writing.
They probably assume it is some highly important financial document. Little do they know...

It is curious that when I am writing I feel freed. I feel energetic and capable and happy and just don't care what people think. It is me at my best! Even though I don't usually write the highest quality things that I am proud of, writing just for the sake of writing is important. It is like stretching, it is practicing.
To me it feels like swinging--pushing against nothing to get nowhere but up, out in the fresh air, your hair getting exuberantly tangled in the breeze, pumping your legs against open air to get a good momentum going, and then just cruising...and there is always that moment, coming down from the peak that the sun glints in your eyes. Marvelous.

I am trying trying TRYING to work more on my book. Or, what I hope will someday resemble a book. Right now it is a petty manuscript, one of those works-in-progress that is always looking a little down in the mouth.
It is about my experience with childhood cancer. But it isn't just about me being a sick kid--it is about today too, because I am still struggling with the aftermath of the cancer, and my whole life has been effected by it, so why just say "and then, I got better. The End."  It is important to show where I went with my life (exploring the arts! Travel! Poetry! Romance! College! Marriage! The Work Force!), and that I have moved on, but will never forget where I came from.

Speaking of which.... well I don't even want to write about this but I can tell that bottling it up is giving me mad anxiety and I need to put it out there. And P.S. I am interspersing my images of the day throughout, just to perk this up a bit. I don't want it to be a downer!

I know I still haven't addressed it personally, but maybe writing a bit will unwind me.  I've pulled the whole Scarlett O'Hara trick of "if I think about that now I'll go crazy. I'll think about it tomorrow."

Well I've put this off for a lot of tomorrows and have felt my stress level rise in proportion to that. It is quite mathematical, really.

So I had the top posts removed in my mouth--the implant pieces I was allergic to. And I felt immediately better, although I haven't bounced all the way back to the starting point. And a few weeks ago I noticed, near where the posts were, yet another lump.
While my best little Brit Vicky was in town, we went to visit my eccentric oral surgeon so he could take a look. And the news was no bueno.

I have another infection and a pyloric granuloma (what the lump thing is). These are the dumb things I had 4 or 5 of before--that I had surgery to remove--and the doctor believed they were caused by the post allergy, as I didn't have them before the posts were put in.

But now, a recurrence after the supposed allergy source is out indicates that the posts triggered an allergic reaction with the original, structural implant pieces--the ones in my bone.

I had the bone graft just for this procedure, and I've gone through so much pain for this...it is inconceivable that it may have all been for nothing and I may have to have the entire implant base removed.
He put my on antibiotics and the nasty brown mouth rinse, but if it doesn't go away...surgery. During which he will cut me open and take a little peek inside to see what is going on with the bone. He is afraid that as a result of all of these infections, the bone may have gone mushy around the implant devices (especially if I am allergic to them).

He said that they may not have bothered me before, but putting the top implant post piece on could have triggered an allergy inside. I pray to God not.

It is incredibly painful and I don't fancy the blood and pus I am spitting out 6 times a day.
I am incredibly fearful that I am going to have to have it all removed... I had a bone marrow graft when I was in my tweens, after I went into remission, and it failed.
If it fails again I may just lose my mind. I need this bone!! I need it for support! And putting in the posts gives the bone something to hold on to, so it doesn't recede (this is why my first bone graft failed). I can live without teeth, but not with my shallow jaw bone!

And so this is what I have been hiding from. I do feel a bit better now that I've put it out there, but still feel helpless and fearful. I guess this is a moment of "do your best, God will take care of the rest."

Titanic Upgrades and Roommate Notes

This is damned funny--- a satire of Titanic improvements for the next time around!

Have you heard about this weirdness??
Remember Harvey Milk, the gay rights activist killed in '78? There is a debate about whether or not to name a Navy warship after him (which is a bizarre way to honor him, if you know anything about the guy), and a Ouija board has been consulted about it. WTF?

And now, the funny ones:

And now...this one goes out to all of those with the pain-in-the-ass roommates (you know who you are).
I am unimaginably grateful to not have roommates anymore.

Some hilarious roommate notes:

hiking in heels

I like shoes, don't get me wrong. I am just not one of those girls that is willing to (or able to, let's be honest here) hoof it in inappropriate shoes.
Even if I'm doing a night out, I will gauge my footwear by how much walking/dancing I'm considering, and how much I'm going to be drinking (it only takes 2 cocktails or 3 beers for my shoes to abandon my feet...or vice-versa).  And I usually end up in dolled-up flip flops, or flats, or something undemanding.
I have bad feet. And limps aren't terribly sexy.

A lot of my reluctance to wear fancy shoes for any kind of active hanging out comes from my work wardrobe. I have to dress up 5 days a week! My toesies need a rest!
The Boss got after me this week for my wardrobe. Which, according to me, is pretty damn nice.
But he wants me to dress more feminine, and I am not allowed to wear polos (I wore a Ralph Lauren polo twice--with my Tiffany's necklace--on casual Fridays! With dress pants and heels!).

So to show him just how lovely and demure I can be,
I went shopping yesterday and am today wearing a coral pink skirt with flower appliques, a sweet little beige front-tie ribbon sweater, my pearls, nylons, and beige heels. I look like a damn lady.

And so (I swear to God he does this on purpose) he chooses today to send me on a hike.
I didn't know it was a hike at the time, and he forbade me from using my car (all part of his evil plan to make me thinner). He asked me to take a book "next door" for him. I went next door, realized it was the wrong building, and kept walking. And walking. And walking.
When I found the correct "next door" (which it most certainly WAS NOT), I tried to take a shortcut. But I was squashed in this attempt, which resulted in me walking 3 times as long (this place was a maze, I tell you!).
I dropped off the book, and tried to take a sneaky shortcut back, and would have made it if not for the aforementioned beautiful pink skirt, which prevented me from going through a thigh-high hedge.
Stupid skirt.
Someone in an office was watching me through the window, taking off my shoes and hiking up my skirt in order to cut through some shrubs! I bet I was a sight.

So I ended up walking down the sidewalk in my heels again, which are typically comfortable, when I am not required to walk a mile them. And people were whizzing by me on Foothill Drive and honking at me.
Who sees a woman in a sweet little work outfit going for a hike in heels and HONKS?!?!
Nutters, that's who.

Thank Baby Jesus The Boss is flying to his beach house in Cali tomorrow, so I can have a few days of relief (though he still makes bizarre, demanding phone calls several times a day).
Also, our receptionist is on a vacation herself, which means I am doing her job on top of my own.
There are not enough hours in the day.  And the constant dashing back and forth means more foot aches.
And me sneaking Diet Cokes out of the mini-fridge under her desk.

Well, it's quittin' time. But before I depart (I faintly hear a glass of Pinot Noir calling my name), today's image:

hug it out.

Image of the day! I love everything going on here.

the pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again

Well Vicky is gone.
Harry Potter quote is reassuring, but hasn't helped my anguish.
It is bad. I am even more upset/slobbering crybabyish than I anticipated.
It started as aknot in mystomach yesterday during work. When I got home Vicky and Paris were sitting onthe couch waiting for me (how lovely that routine of arriving home from workand seeing my darling Brit perched on the sofa, ready for our nextadventure—“Honey, I’m home!!”).
We had some ice shots (badass gift, courtesy of Vicky).
Oh, and Vicky cleaned the apartment too.
Why does she have to be so amazing? Even Eli, who is very difficult to convinceof someone/something’s amazingness was a bit teary-eyed after she left.Especially after he found the sweet note she left for us on the fridge.

Oh bugger,here come the water works again! I need a break.

...........

Wheewww, I’mback. So yesterday was her last day in America and we made the best of it-another run toSephora and Pandora (Vicky got a ghost charm to signify our mutual love ofhorror films!!) and we got some tea from Teavana (overpriced, but so worth it).
How has 2 weeks sped by so insanely?!

Then Vicky,Eli, and I got dolled up (well, Eli not so much) and went out for a fabuloussteak dinner.

I lied andtold the waiter it was her birthday and he was digging her accent (he informedus his ex-girlfriend was from Essex) and she got a free Rocky Mountain Mud Piefor dessert, which the 3 of us managed to devour, even after our meal of thetenderest ribs ever, bacon-wrapped filet mignon, and New York strip steak, plus a deep-friedjacketed potato loaded with butter, bacon, etc. for each of us). It was simplylovely.

When we gothome, Paris came back over and we watched Insidious(probably the greatest current scary movie) and did our nails. It is our thing.Vicky got this nail polish at Sephy’s that has little glass bead thingees in it(it is called Caviar, for obvious reasons) and we fiddled with that, had sometea, and I started crying again (both of them screaming "STOP IT! YOURE MAKING ME CRY!").
I have just been a soggy mess off and on for the last 2 days.

We stayed upuntil 1am, giggling (to stave off the tears) and taking far too many PhotoBoothpictures (I will post some later!). Oh, and the Wine Gums.

I could notsleep last night to save my life. I think I’m running on 2 hours pseudo-nap atwork (the v8 Energy drinks are pretty nice, I’m tellin’ ya), but consideringthat I am so distraught about Vicky I have half of my voice and keep gettingminor nosebleeds, and my newly acquired allergies are going haywire, it doesn’tmatter. My co-workers keep just looking at me strangely (is it the red eyes,the comfy-rather-than-professional-outfit, the frazzled hair, the sniffles, thetissues spilling out of my pockets? All of the above?), and I have been givenseveral hugs in the breakroom.
Anything will set me off.

In fact,when Vicky left for the airport this morning I could hardly speak I was soupset—the worst part is not knowing when we will next see each other. It couldbe years.
We FaceTime a lot, but it obviouslydoesn’t compare to our real-life adventures together, and it is a challenge to getdecent conversations in with our time differences and busy schedules. We makeit work.

Anyway—I hada serious crying jag after I watched her ride away, during which Eli smotheredme with hugs and was in a panic as to how to console me, and just when I hadgotten it together (I had to play an intense action movie whilst preparing forwork to distract myself) and was having some tea and toaster streudel, shetexted me that she was at the airport and shehad cried so hard the airport workers asked if she needed assistance! So that setme off again, and there went the makeup.

I re-applied and was heading out the door, driving to work, and the damn Eve 6song came on (again!!) – “Here’s to the Nights.”
I love me some Eve 6 and that song can make me emotional on any day, buttoday?! Come on, God. Or whoever is directing the coincidental songs that comeon the radio that make you think there is some eerie clockwork to this messedup world…

So, more crying.I reapplied mascara in the parking lot. And cried it away by the time I gotinside (thank goodness The Boss hadn’tarrived yet, Lord Jesus!). And I haven’t bothered trying to get my facetogether since. I know it won’t last.

Anyway, thispost is longer than I expected.
I just wanted to explain where I have been lately (gotta have priorities) andthat I will be posting a lot more now than my deary has departed back to herregal homeland.

And if youare curious about future Vicky/Mare reunions….
we are accepting donations. Graciously, of course.

Ta.

Miss youalready Torie.

Brick Pants

Just got home from another eventful night out with the hubby and best friend--they're now exchanging ridiculous movie trailers (she's showing him Sharktopus) so I'm taking a moment to post this (though I will need a longer post to fully expound later).

We went to Blue Iguana and stuffed our faces until we were drunk on Mexican food, and then sought out a park in SLC I looked up amongst weird Utah attractions.
It was built by a Mormon bishop that constructed it himself in his backyard and has the creepiest stonework any of us has ever seen.
We literally kept turning corners and screaming in shock.
It was the Twilight Zone.
The worst part was the self-portrait statue of the artist himself. It was f$@*#ng terrifying.
It was one of those statues that has eyes that follow you wherever you are standing and it kind of looked like Mr. Spock. And the worst part...
It was wearing brick pants.

I don't know why but this is the most disturbing part to me--the brick pants. Whyyyyyyyy??!!!

Antoine Dodson DOG

Halloween anyone???!

Finally Friday

3 days left with Vicky. :( we're having margaritas now, doing face masks and watching Grey's Anatomy.

Here are some good ones: