My people.



I'm there in like the first three seconds, immediately behind Brody (the desaturated Santa). To say that I spent all of Santacon with all of these Santas might be stretching it. To say that I know none of these Santas would be equally untrue. Let's just say that I'm happy about feeling like one of the cool kids (very rare for me) 'cause I can name a significant portion of the Santas, along with the bondage reindeer.

Also, the merry Santa at nine seconds is Heidi, who is awesome, and I'm so glad she got her own shot.

Also, I knew I was being taped, and it made me all self-conscious enough as it was, so it's a really good thing that I didn't realize the Santa taping me was FRIGGIN MARK DAY, who rocks my socks. Look up "The Smiley Intervention" on Youtube. Really. Do it.

For the last 0.5 hours I have had more money than I have ever seen in my life. This will last for (checks watch) approximately 3 more hours.
But that's okay.
Cause I'm getting a truck
That's right.
A truck.

This is the song I'm singing in my head: "Shove it, and love it, and dance around above it, shove it, and love it, and dance around..." Not necessarily a car-buying song, but it helps if you imagine me getting jiggy, as the kids say, with one hand on the rear bumper.

Mission Bachelorette Party...successful.

There were sashes. And pins. And amusingly-shaped candy. And a very large piece of anatomy on a leash. And a hotel room. And MATCHING GLITTERY PINK SHIRTS. We ate pizza and chips and played stupid games like we were still 12 years old, drank like we were still 21 (mostly for free), heckled strange men, received marriage proposals along with desperate cries of DON'T DO IT, and basically rocked the heck out of everything and everyone.

It almost alleviated the soul-rending pain caused by the bridal shower earlier. For some reason, and I know this probably makes me a hypocrite, I rejoiced in the bachelorette party...but the shower? One should only have to watch so much unwrapping of scented candles, nighties, and kitchen sets while pleased mothers coo in the background. Aggressive promotion of gender stereotypes in the midst of uncomfortably forced fun which not even the bride enjoyed, woohoo!

Well.

This would have been funsies.

It also explains the cop knocking on my door yesterday..."Ma'am, we're pretty sure a dude waving a gun ran through your back yard last night....see anything?"

The best part was when the cop gave me his cop stare, you know, the one they practice, the one that says "I know everything you've ever done wrong, and if you don't give me the right answers, you will definitely, in some unspecified way, Be In Trouble. So there."
Seriously, I'd last like two seconds under interrogation.

Disgusting.



Easter/Passover/spring/whatever celebration, aka Bunnyjam 2010.

NOT a furry thing. No really. It's a holiday celebration. ...Stop looking at me like that!

Just, I mean...seriously? Who the hell sprains her FOOT? Ankle, yes. Foot? Lame. Laaaaaaaaame.

(Oh dear, I did not mean that to be a pun, or any play on words at all. I just meant that it sucks. And my foot hurts. And it's hard to walk...)

Thanks to my climbing experience (knots) and my intimate knowledge of Trainspotting (this one part where Sick Boy is getting dressed), I now know how to properly tie a tie. Why, you ask, am I wearing a tie? Because it's just that kind of day...

Also, me, at the coffeeshop, trying to reach an outlet under an older gentleman's foot: Excuse me, sir, is it okay if I plug this in down here?
Older gentleman: ...Honey, no one's said that to me in a looooooong time.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, I'm going to be a...bridesmaid! I feel all special and awesome. I get to wear a pink cocktail dress, and it isn't even a burner wedding!

Massive Update, Epistolary Interruption

Dear rather startled BART station residents and pedestrians,
If you were wondering why the crazy lady with the celery stalk strapped to her back like a samurai sword, forty pounds of groceries teetering on the back of her bike, and a baguette getting VERY fresh with her bum made an abrupt u-turn at the intersection, left the bike path, and zoomed through the sprinklers yelling “I REALLY NEED YOU TONIGHT,” well, don’t worry. There is a perfectly reasonable explanation.
You see, I was coming back from Berkeley Bowl, which only sells extra-long celery; I had rather overestimated how much grocery I could fit on my bike; and I realized that if I turned around I would hit the sprinklers just as “Total Eclipse of the Heart” peaked on my ipod.
…See…
…Perfectly reasonable.

Anemilee

Massive Update, Part 1: Parties, Reviews, Recommendations, and the usual weirdness.

Jan 1, New Year's Eve

A little boring. Didn't do much, just a small get together, though I did learn that it pays to forage your own chanterelles...yummy!

Jan 3, The Boy's Birthday

I thought I was clever. I thought I was so very, very clever...
So, the boy wants to go to a fancy restaurant for his birthday, just the two of us. Because his Christmas and birthday presents were sorta combined (poor baby, he got Cirque de Soliel tickets), I wanted to make the restaurant something special, and decided on a ferry trip to Sausalito.
PROBLEM: The ferry does not run late enough to take us back.
SOLUTION: Convoluted, requiring a precise time table, and an attempted proof of how much I care for the boy. I drive to the ferry in Sausalito, leave my car there, take the ferry into SF, take BART to Daly City, where I meet the boy in his car, then drive the boy (it's his birthday, he shouldn't have to drive into SF!) back to the pier, all the while pretending that we're going to dinner somewhere in the city. We stop for drinks, then I walk him along the Embarcadero and SURPRISE, oh look, here's a ferry, let's get on it! Lovely, right?
PROBLEM: As it turns out...neither of us likes ferries very much. This was exactly the second time in my life I've been on in a ocean-going vessel, and I forgot just how seasick I get, and even though it's freezing, boy insists on sitting outside with me until I feel better, which is never. The dinner was nice, though...the waiters just snobby enough, the food pretty good, the setting all cozy and sea-side.

Also, I did all of the above wearing stilettos, a LBD, and a grey, hooded cape lined in purple satin with matching gloves...once again proving to myself the importance of a singular principle: OWNING IT. And trust me, if you're going to prance around touristy SF in that kinda getup, you have GOT to own it.

Jan 9, Crystal's Party

Crystal: Come to my party, my hot boyfriend's geeky, attractive, single friends will be there!
Me: Okay! I'm so glad to finally be meeting new people! Let me get all excited and spend an inordinate amount of time doing my makeup!
Crystal: Welcome to my party, which boy do you like best!
Me: Well...there's actually only two single guys here. I guess I like that one...
Crystal: Oh no! He's a jerk! How about the other one! He's a twenty, and a virgin, and really could use some help with that!
Me: ......................................................................................................................no.

Also, everyone was impressed that I wore my tutu...I mean, dude, it's a pink-and-black birthday party. The only thing reason I didn't wear my tiara was that I knew Crystal would be wearing hers...

Jan 10, Review: Cirque de Soliel's "Ovo"

So here's the interesting thing about having friends who are gymnasts, aerialists, hoopers, jugglers, dancers, fire spinners, circus freaks, clowns, designers, costumers, seamstresses, artists and generally awesome people...I've become rather jaded about the circus. Not that I personally have any real skills, but the trick that acrobat is doing isn't nearly as compelling when just that morning I saw a dude do the same thing halfway up a rock wall, and he wasn't even getting any applause. I still go to real buy-a-ticket circuses once or twice a year, but I've found that what I look for in a performance is different. I am more impressed by the subtle-but-difficult tricks, than by the showy-but-actually-easy ones.
The best analogy I can think of is from (nerd alert!) Farscape. There is a particular episode where the hot grey chick blows a guy's mind by spinning fire in front of him. The first time I saw it, I was a sheltered highschooler, and I thought, oh look she's making these designs in the air with fire, that's really awesome. Now when I watch it, I think, oh look, even though she's a beginner, and her planes are all off, and she can only do one move, that's still really awesome BECAUSE she's doing it covered in highly flammable, melty paint and clothing. As I learn more, what I appreciate in fire dancing/circuses/general freak shows changes.

BAD: Profoundly disappointing aerialists. Graceful, and really good at holding onto a rope, but rather one trick ponies. Also, profoundly annoying clown. He wanted to be Jim Carey. I wanted to punch him in the face. The contact jugglers, well, didn't. And the Chinese yo-yoer? Let's just say I've gone to school with, been best friends with, and lived underneath (THAT was fun) a variety of Chinese yo-yo enthusiasts, and you haven't seen anything till you see 40 people do what this yo-yoer did, in unison. Also, I can get better contact yoga at Burning Man. All in all, it took me the entire first act to reach the necessary suspension of disbelief, but once I did...

GOOD: Chinese acrobats. Here's my play-by-play. "Oh look, a group of tiny Asian girls who are juggling things with their feet. Oh look, more tiny Asian girls are balancing the first tiny Asian girls, who are still juggling things with their feet. .........................And now while the first group continues to juggle things with its feet, the second group of tiny Asian girls is juggling.............well, the first group of tiny Asian girls. WITH THEIR FEET."
Also good: The costumer who marched up to the performer and said "Here. I've designed a giant slinky. PUT IT ON."
And good in its own way: It's hard to appreciate to appreciate a well-attired performer's slacklining skills when all you're thinking is "wait, wait, hold STILL goddamnit, I wanna see your stitching."

AWESOME: Again, here's a play-by-play. "Oh look, they're finally climbing out on the rock wall in the back. Oh lord, they've been doing it for minutes. I hope this isn't supposed to be impressive. Hell, even I can do that...those are evenly spaced bucket holds. I'm booo--HOLY SHIT!" Sufficed to say, the things you can do with a climbing wall, a trampoline, and a few well-proportioned gentlemen are amazing.

That's all for now...oh wait, one more thing. I got an Easy Bake Oven for Christmas. It is awesome, in that it actually takes twice as long as a real oven and is in no way less dangerous. The boy got it for me because that's his nickname for my apartment, and because it's adorable. From now on, though, I'm ordering all my EBO cake mixes online because Toys R Us is one of the most depressingly gender-segregated places ever.