I just figured it out. And now you will, too.

Listening To: Light a Smoke by The Alarmists

So Alarmists shows. I dig them. I go to a lot of them. Pretty much if there's one going on and I'm in town, I'll be there. Not because I'm a groupie, etc., but because I think The Alarmists are everything a live show should be - entertaining to watch, fun to listen to, has a certain quality that doesn't translate onto their album (instead of the other way around, when you go to a live show and realize you probably could have had a better time listening to the CD while cleaning your room). Plus there was always a song, "Light a Smoke", that I loved, and they hadn't recorded. So I had to go to shows to hear it, right?!

Now, I already know what all you coolies are just dying to start commenting about, and I already know, so check it. They've been in the studio working on a new album, and they just posted new tracks - this very morning - on their MySpace page. So like a kid at Christmas, I woke up early to check them out.

I think these guys are kind of genius. Hear me out: The track for "Light a Smoke" is good, right? But it's not as good as when they sing it live. Henceforth, I'm going to buy their new album for the track, but I'm still going to end up going to all their shows because listening to the track just makes me yearn to hear it live again. It's like brides (BTW, Becky, this is so not about you) who have seven bridesmaids, because they know that not only are all those bridesmaids going to throw them showers and give them tons of presents, but they'll all have to pitch in for the bachelorette party, too, ensuring the bride that she will, in fact, have the strobe-light induced, bass-pumpin' Party-Bus at her disposal, just as she had always dreamed.

Okay, so maybe it's not really like that at all, but I just had to get that off my chest, too...

I wanna be friends with it.

Some of you might not have checked out the link that Tim gave me on one of my comment pages, so I thought I would post this to share with all of you. It's just a trailer-type thing, so you've got to check out the real thing to really understand why this show is The Awesome. Capitalized.

Bring the A-Game.

Listening To: Parting of the Sensory by Modest Mouse

So the Blogging Mafia (we didn't come up with that name...btw, does anyone even remember how we got it?) will not be hitting up Music Bingo tomorrow night at the Chatterbox. There is consternation amongst the group about the new DJ (our originally beloved one has moved to Atlanta...lame), and so cries and calls were made about changing the location and theme of Wednesday nights.

Instead, we will be meeting up at Psycho Suzies around 8, where we will be answering questions from my Famed Question Book. So basically it will be like slumber-party type Truth Or Dare, but without the Dare (tho' we can probably throw that in if we think your Truth is not quite up to Britney's standards).

So yeah...if you happen to be in that general vicinity or have interest in being bombarded with perv assassinations to your personal character, come on out. It's not exclusive to bloggers...we hardly even talk about our blogs except for the beginning of the evening when everyone is required to tell me how great I am.

If you're psycho stalkerish, tho', you're not invited. I'm pretty sure all of you are too busy hanging out on Alie's blog to read that, but I thought I would just mention it nonetheless...

"Ew...to you and your preferences."

So don't think I forgot to post about Musky Fest weekend. I have stories. Ooh shiiit...do I have stories.

However, I need to wait for more pictures from my FSINL Becky in order to better narrate said stories. This one is just a (tame) taste.

Hold your breath...

I read a few chapters from my new novel on existentialism earlier today. Sue me.

This new Ex-Wives Club show on ABC is the shiznit. I love hearing about other peoples' dirt. That's right, Shar...tell me all about how Kevin was a skeeze. I knew it all along! It just feels good to hear you say it, too. Will Smith has an ex-wife?! I never knew that! But I'm diggin' hearing all about it now!

Not so pumped on the whole crying thing with the people who were just dumped, though. I mean, it's okay. I'm filing stuff, anyway, so I can just concentrate on that during the sappy bits.

Maybe now everyone can stop asking me if I'm dating the way my faster-developing middle school friends used to ask me if I had gotten my "period yet".

Listening To: Burn by Alkaline Trio

This morning before work I decided to head to my habitual Caribou. As I swung into the parking lot, I noticed two guys standing by the only open parking spot, drinking coffee and talking. Colored tattoos up and down their arms, some piercings, the requisite white tanks and cargo shorts. I don't know what's up with my Caribou, but apparently it's become the hot spot for skater guys who drink coffee. Which is so flippin' sweet I can't stand it.

So I slide into the parking spot, and as I do, I notice that the two guys have stopped their conversation and are staring at me. At first I wondered if they were admiring my awesome car (it's pretty popular. People love to hit it), but then I realized I didn't care what they were staring at...their stares were making me nervous. And when I get nervous, I get aggravated.
"Dude, was that Tool you were listening to?" One of them asked as I got out. I had seen him at the Caribou a couple times before, and had already noticed how much he resembled a cross between Travis Barker from Blink-182/+44 and Carey Hart: lip piercing, dark hair, super bright green eyes. In a word, hot. So let's just say that now the nervousness was ramped up a notch, resulting in a type of nervous aggravated bitchiness.
"Schism? Yeah." I answered as I walked around the back of my car to my passenger side doors.
"Wow. I don't think I've ever known a hot girl who listens to Tool."
"Great. Thanks for sharing." I said, as I opened my passenger side door, slid out my laptop bag and swung the straps over my shoulder. Whenever guys imply that they think I'm attractive, I still don't know how to react. I've learned enough to say thank you, etc., but I never really know whether to be flattered by it or suspicious. I grew up with an older brother who made sure that I never got too comfortable being identified as attractive. I have my moments, but on the whole, I wouldn't necessarily categorize myself as "hot"...thus, it's always a little unnerving to be called that.
"You're welcome." He said, smirking a little. "What's your name?"
"Amber."
"Christian." He said, holding out his hand. I took it, and then he motioned over to his friend. "This is Ricky." Ricky just kind of did the "chin-up" thing. I used to hate it when guys did that. It was like they were always too cool to be bothered with opening their mouth to say hello or extend a hand like an normal polite person.
"I've seen you around here before." Christian said.
"Yeah, I kinda live here." I motioned to my laptop bag. One week nights of late, I have found myself heading to the Caribou after work so I can work without the regular distractions of home. Christian usually comes in to grab coffee but then floats outside to read what looks like textbooks or thick non-fiction. Sometimes he takes his shirt off, and his cargo shorts hang a little low when he stands up to stretch or reorganize his belongings. So then I don't really get all the work done I intended to, because that tends to be even more distracting than what lays at home...
"So tell me, Amber," Christian motioned his coffee cup towards me and glanced back at Ricky. "What if a guy were so impressed by the fact that a girl like you listens to Tool, that he might want to get to know her a little better, just to see what else she's about that might surprise him?"
"I would say that he should just probably ask instead of trying to gauge her opinion first. It's kind of like asking a girl if you can kiss her. It's better to just get up the balls and do it."
"Wanna go out sometime?"
"Sure."

So I gave him my number and we have loose plans to hang out later in the week. I said the requisite "bye, nice to meet you" stuff and went inside to grab my coffee, and was kind of relieved that they were gone when I walked back out because that would have been awkward.

Also, "The Humpty Dance" by Digital Underground was next on my iPod, and they might not have been so impressed by that.

What will the future hold? Does anyone ever really know?

Listening To: Transformers by Mute Math
Musky Fest 2005 -


Musky Fest 2006 -


Musky Fest 2007 -
This will be the third year of Musky Fest (everyone who was in attendance at Musky Fest 2004 burned all their pictures. Seriously.) for the rest of the group, the fifth one for me. This year my future sister-in-law Becky will be in attendance (YEAH!), as well as Heidi, Katy, and I. Sarah is ditching because she is lame, Autumn is ditching because she's in China, and Steph is ditching because she has some "I'm going to be married soon" family-fiance thing she has to go to (but she gets points because she really would rather be with us this weekend, and has made sure her husband-in-training knows it).

As you can see from the posted photos, we like to take this annual weekend to really dig into the Word and get to know our sisters in Christ in a whole new way. The Chief graciously lets us use their facilities on Friday night for our kick-off bible study. Then on Saturday, we take a relaxing retreat to the street dance in Hayward where we witness to those who do not yet know of God's love. We do it for the Lord, because we love Him. He gives us Musky Fest, because He loves us.

See you on Sunday!

Don't tell me to have a nice day.

This is so super bitchy and ridiculous, but I gotta say it out loud or else it's just going to keep ticking me off.

You know what I hate? I hate it when you get a random (yes, Jen, random) email from a guy you don't know, and they're trying to be all sensitive and sweet and shit, and they end it with "Take care and have a nice day!"

You don't know me. Don't tell me to take care. You don't really care if I take care. If I walk out onto the street tomorrow morning and get hit by a bus, it's not going to affect your daily existence. And don't tell me to have a nice day. Hope you have a nice day, maybe. But don't tell me what to do. Maybe I want to have a shitty day. Maybe I woke up this morning and said, "You know, today I want to have the shittiest day of my life, just because I feel like it." Then I run into you and you're all trying to tell me what kind of day to have and shit.

Maybe I'll have a nice day, but not because you told me to.

I am in a state of constant excitement.

Now there has to be this, too.

And don't skip the intro. It's worth it.

Take The Haiku Challenge!

Listening To: D.A.N.C.E. by Justice

I love my job. A lot. However, last night I was dragging a little bit from the thought of having to do 'The Grind' again for five more days until next weekend (which is a big one). So today, I decided to make the day go faster by composing a Haiku for every hour of my day. It was hard. It was strenuous, challenging, excruciating mental work. But I did it, fuckers. And who did I do it for? Me.

6:00am
Clock goes off too soon
Me need more sleepy it's true
This sucks my hot ass

7:00am
Road construction sucks
it is a drag that can blow
me super hard now

8:00am
Caribou coffee
I like to drink it every
day and on nights too.

9:00am
Are you aware that
I'm rubber you're glue bounces
off me sticks to you.

10:00am
Haikus are easy
But sometimes they don't make sense
Hippopotamus.

11:00am
Candy is so great
kids really like it a lot
that's why I'm the best.

12:00pm
Coworkers talking
about babies and weddings
Appetite is lost.

1:00pm
Trampolines are fun
jump jump kick jump spin jump jump
I am great on them.

2:00pm
Whining and crying
nap time is not an option
Aggravation, yo.

3:00pm
All have a boyfriend
Even that big bitch Rochelle does
That is kinda lame.

4:00pm
Watch Sesame Street
It is client's favorite
Snuffalufagus.

5:00pm
The day is now over
Say goodbye and walk out door
Sick of the Haikus.


The End.

"I've got...a BIG FAT FUCKING bone to pick with YOU, my darling..."

Listening To: Radio by Alkaline Trio

Sorry. I just really love that line.

There are no back flips in air guitar.

Air Guitar Championships. AIR GUITAR CHAMPIONSHIPS.

They were just okay.

I had three things I wanted to do last night: A party at Karah's, a show at 400 Bar for which I had been given tickets, and the Air Guitar Championships.

Yesterday was a full day. I arrived home with just enough time to get ready for the evening, which turned into not enough time because I'm poor at planning out stuff like outfits and makeup and other girly crap. As it happens, when I'm late for something that I really want to go to, something inevitably goes wrong. This time it happened to be our garage door opener, which had decided to break right after my roommate left and right before I was supposed to leave.

I have great friends. Jen offered to give me a ride to the party, and my buddy Dave was cool with being my chauffeur thereafter. I hate having to ask people to do stuff for me that I should be able to do on my own, but I get over it once I realize how awesome my friends can be.

Thus, I finally arrived at my desired destination. It was an engagement party for Karah's brother Sherman and his future wife Amanda, and it was fantastic. It was one of those parties where you don't pick apart the details because everything just came together to create this great mesh of a night. I will mention that the guys all tried their hand at chopping wood, though. That was fun to watch.

Dave arrived, and we had to kind of battle on whether or not we should even go to the Air Guitar Championships, since we were already having such a fantastic time at Karah's. I had already decided that we weren't going to make the 400 Bar, mainly because I couldn't ask Dave to drive all around town for something he might not even dig. So I feel badly that I missed Grace Potter & The Nocturnals, because the YouTube clips make it seem like they put on a pretty fun show and I was given tickets to it (but next time around, fo' sho'). In the end, Dave and I decided to stay true to the game plan, so we bid our adieus to the party people and set off on our way. Then I realized I forgot my purse at Karah's house, so we went back, said goodbye again, and set off on our way once more.

We arrived at The Varsity, met up with my friend Eric, and found a metal version of the Gong Show: Every once in a while someone would get up there and do, like, an interpretative mime of a song instead of actual air guitar, and the crowd would start chanting "YOU SUCK" and throw stuff at the stage. There were a couple of super hilarious contestants, but the judges kept giving them low scores for stupid crap like "you missed a G note in there somewhere". The costumes were great - I think there was a cape, tons of wigs, some shirts made out of fishnet stockings, and numerous shiny spandex speedo-type shorts, one of which had a blinking red light affixed right on his "most precious instrument". And I think Eric missed it, but I did get a chance to point out to Dave how one of the guys - wearing a curly mop-headed wig with an athletic headband wrapped around it - looked exactly like one of my ex-boyfriends. Yeah...I went out with him for his sense of humor...maybe not so much for his physical attractiveness...

Okay, I need to say this because it bothers me. There were a handful of girls in the competition. Kind of disappointed that they didn't rock it out like they could have. There was one whom I thought was great, but apparently she wasn't showing enough tit, because she got a crappy score as well. Then this one girl came on, and as soon as she walked onstage, I turned to Dave and said, "If she gets a perfect score, I'm going to throw something." This girl was hot. She was. I'll totally admit that: costume made out of black lingerie, dark long hair, the works, right? Heavy Metal's wet dream. So she starts doing her thing, which is basically running around and sticking out her tongue, and the crowd is just eating it up. Then, she does a back flip. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?! There are no back flips in air guitar. You can't flip while playing real guitar - which is the rule of all air guitar because you're doing an impression - because you might lose your finger placement on the cords, and that's just not cool. You save the flip for the end of your solo, sort of as a "And that's how it's done, fuckers!".

End of routine, guess what she got. Yep.

This pisses me off because I want women to get ahead. I want women to win Air Guitar. I don't want women to win it just because they have boobs, though. I want them to win because they know how to rock it. So I'm not trying to take anything away from the girl, because she worked it with what she had, and whatever, but judges...fucking poor form for you. You guys were dicks to the really fun and entertaining male contestants, but didn't say anything about how she missed a G cord during her performance. Now during the second round, she really fucking blew the lid off the place, and I'm all for the scores she got on that one (she ended up winning). And she didn't even have to do a back flip.

The night ended with a group air guitar finale of "Free bird". It was beautiful. All contestents and even those in the crowd who didn't compete but were swept up into the grace and magic of the night got up on stage and performed en masse. This one guy put a "#1" foam hand glove thing - it looks like this -

into the top of his (speedo-like) shorts so it was hanging out horizontally. Every time he did a pelvic thrust it looked like he had this huge gigantic foam dick. And he did a lot of pelvic thrusts. I was mesmerized.

And while gentleman Dave was bringing the car around so I didn't have to walk all the way to the ramp (I was wearing knee-high boots, and apparently they're not made for walking) -

**as a side note, can I just say how nice it is to have a guy friend who will offer to do things like that for you? Guys don't even walk a girl to her car anymore, even on a date. One time I was downtown with another guy friend who suddenly had to leave. I nicely offered to walk him to the parking ramp so that, away from the group we were with, I could thank him for coming out, etc. What did he do once we got to the parking ramp? He left. He took off in his car and left me to walk five blocks downtown at night back to where my group of friends were. Nice, right?**

- this random college guy got into an empty orange construction circular barrier thing and starting rolling on the sidewalk towards me. Finally he got up and out of the construction circular barrier thing, looked at me, and said, "Excuse me, ma'am, but you're in a construction zone." And then walked away.

So yeah, it was a pretty great night...

Blurry.

Listening To: Sowing Season by Brand New

I don't remember how I fell in love. I remember that I was, and I remember what that felt like. Though, truth be told, that's only mostly on mornings like this, when I wake up and am able to recognize who I dreamed of before the memories waft away, like cobwebs in the breeze.

I get out of bed and start preparing for my day. A cup of coffee on the hope chest, some graham crackers out of the box, a new track downloading from iTunes. Moments later I find I'm standing in the middle of my room in my white tank top and underwear, teeth snapping into a graham square while I stare blankly at the TV. It always takes me a while to get going, on mornings like this. I want to simply pull on some jeans and a tank top so I can get out the door and on with the sunny Saturday. There is so much to do first, though, and my mind feels stagnant, like it can't move past last night long enough to order out this new day. "How did that happen?" I wonder, as I watch some scene from a movie play out across the TV screen. "How did I fall in love with them? Was it the way they looked at me, or things they said, or just a sequence of events that happened to work out favorably?" Feeling time press close, I shake myself out of my ponderment and make an effort to gather some of the things I'll need for today and tonight. Three different outfits, my laptop, a swim suit, tickets, knee-high boots, and a blow dryer. A day full of good things, fun things.

I wonder about the history because I can't quite imagine the future. Most of the time I feel like an 11 year old boy. I don't hate the opposite sex at all...they just don't hold much place or importance in my everyday normal existence. It didn't always used to be like this. I used to be the epitome of boy-crazy. Life just didn't mean anything unless I had a boyfriend or someone to crush on. Things happen, though, and being on my own just became a preferred course of action, I guess. It's not something I'm sad about. It's just the way that life has worked out.

I hope I'll be ready when it happens again. I know it will. I hope by then it won't feel quite so foreign to me, when it gets close. I can't quite seem to picture what falling in love again would look like, and I admittedly don't really put much thought into it...but I like to imagine that it will feel as if we are crashing into each other. The heart waits for lightening.

Give it up, Missed Connections...

"can you give some clues about the person you're talking about, please? Who are you wondering about?"

No. He can't. Because the person he's talking about is obviously not you.

Ugh. Every time I read the MC's, I always end up asking myself why I read this shit. The answer is that it's quick entertainment for those times when you just need a distraction. Like when you've been writing for the past three hours on a Friday night and are starting to get stir-crazy, but can't stop for a while because you haven't really written all week. Like those times.

In other news, I'm starting to take some really perverse pleasure in the clip of "Celebrity Fit Club" that VH1 keeps playing over and over, the one where Kimberly Locke is crying on the phone because Dustin Diamond offered to give her a dildo modeled after his penis. "He's sayin' he wants to give me a sex toy and I. DON'T. LIKE IT!"

Oh, Kimberly. Life is hard when someone offers to buy you a sex toy.

A birthday poem for Ted.

It was your birthday yesterday, Ted.
I'm glad you were born
and that you're not dead.

Karah said
last night you hit a home run.
Way to go.
I bet it would have been fun
to have watched it in slow-mo -
your muscles, glistening in the sun
when you hit that ball and stuff.

You're into sports
Which I don't really get into.
You read a lot, though.
And that's cool,
'cause I like to read a lot, too.

I like the fact that you once got kicked out of Hard Rock
for drinking too many Careless Whisper Martinis.
That makes me laugh, like 'round-da-clock.
Would be better if I didn't have to rhyme it with linguine.

I think you're great.
Your girlfriend probably thinks that, too.
Her name is Deb
and not Shazzrae -
she didn't change it like I wanted her to.
I should probably just get over that, huh?

So here's to you, Ted.
Another milestone, another year.
This beautiful poem
I know you'll hold dear.
I don't do it for everyone,
and I'm sure Redirt is going to pout and cry
Because he's a little girl
and not a grown guy.
Don't know why I'm talking 'bout him anyway
when this is your special day.
Happy Birthday, Ted.
Hey.

They know your name and they know what you're about.

Vincent had a little game that he'd play. He'd stop in at the places he knew I hung out at - but on nights when he knew I wouldn't be there - and always made sure that word got back to me that he was checking on me. "That kid's gunning for you," Rick, a bartender at a bar I happened to frequent, warned me one night. "You'd better watch your back though...he's bad news." I rolled my eyes as I took another pull from the Miller Lite bottle I was drinking from. "I'm aware," I replied.

And I was. After I was only a few months new in town, Vincent had kissed me at a party. He had, however, neglected to mention he had a girlfriend before he had done so. Hayward's a small town. My rep wasn't ruined because apparently everyone else was already aware of what a player Vincent was, but I still refused to talk to him afterwards. That seemed to only fuel the fire. After he had broken up with said girlfriend, he had gotten the word out that he was now on the prowl, and that his target was me.

I was standing at the bar one night at Cruz'In a few weeks later. Cruz was the local meat-market of Hayward, always packed on the weekends due to the fact that it was really the only place that had a decent DJ. This night was no different. My friend Rachael and I had gone there after work, and I was waiting on a couple of drinks for us when I felt two hands slide around my waist.
"Oh my god, you look so hot tonight." I let myself smile just a tiny bit at the way his breath felt hot on my ear, but then remembered myself.
"What do you want, Vincent?" I tried to make my voice show exasperation as I turned to face him. I slowly pushed his hands down and off of my waist. "It can't be that you think we'd be great together. I'm not dumb enough for you."
"I know." He replied, smiling at me. God, that smile...he was so confident sometimes that it made me a little breathless. "Maybe that's what I like about you. You're not like any of the other girls I know."
"Oh god, Vincent," I replied and turned to retrieve the two beer bottles that the bartender had finally brought. "Stop it with the lines, okay? We're a little past that."
"Okay," he said, putting his arm up to stop me from walking away. "How about this? Give me just one chance. Just one. I promise I'll make it so good for you."
I rolled my eyes, shook my head, and walked away from him.

I can't say I wasn't tempted. I was. His little mind games did seem to have some sort of effect, making me wonder what it would be like to just try it, just once. Brutally hot, and like I said, that confidence...it made a girl wonder if he really wasn't just all talk. And I can't say that my ego wasn't just a little bit boosted by the fact that he was chasing after me. I wasn't used to that kind of attention, not from someone like that. I knew exactly what his game was, though...the quintessential guy who only wanted what he couldn't have. I knew if I ever gave in, regret would be all I would be left with.

He didn't let up, though, not for a long time. Whenever we ran into each other, somehow he always managed to be sitting right next to me, his hand on top of my thigh. I would brush it off and he would lean in to whisper something in my ear...always something about how he wanted me so badly, that he would do whatever it took to be with me. He would just happen to be "passing by" sometimes when I was working at Eagle Wings, and would come into the store to talk to me. "Oh my god, Miss Am'berrr..." Mauricio (that's him in the picture with me) said once, shaking his head as we stood at the counter and watched Vincent walk away and out of the store. "Don' you dare go out wit' dat one. Dat is one who only wants one t'ing, you know?! I mean, honey..." he shook his head at me, a smirk playing on his lips. "Get it while it's hot if you want it, but then leave him in de dust." Mauricio then made a hand gesture to punctuate his advice, the kind of hand gesture that only men from Columbia can do and still look somehow cool doing so. I told Mauricio that I had no intention of ever getting involved with Vincent, and from then on it became a game: Mauricio always made sure he was busy doing something at the counter when Vincent came in. Then he would stand there, listening to our conversation with his mouth gaping and his head nodding, eyes wide as if he had no idea that this was anything but a wonderfully polite exchange between old friends. As soon as Vincent would leave, though, Mauricio would jostle me with his elbow and excitedly point out all the times during our conversation when Vincent had flirted and I had blatantly blew him off.

Whenever I feel stupid or tempted over a guy whom I know is bad for me, I always think about Vincent. Kryptonite in the form of a tall skater with stunning hazel eyes and the kind of smile that instantly brings bedroom scenes to mind, he was the arch-nemesis of every rule I had ever made for myself concerning men. Actions speak louder than words. Don't give into a guy you know only wants the chase and not the prize. Don't let temptation win over self-respect. I still sometimes bite my lip or sigh wistfully whenever I'm reminded of him, but I'm kind of glad that I have the memory of the chance instead of how the scene would have inevitably ended if I had chosen to play. Imagination can be good that way.

It's like, when they say "more than meets the eye", I totally get that, 'cause I'm like, more than meets the eye, too.

So through a conversation at work, I was alerted to the fact that, not only is there going to be a kick-ass, cream-your-jeans movie about Transformers, but that there's also going to be a soundtrack for it, coming out July 3rd. I'm aware that my geek-kin probably already know this, so I won't bore you with details. Besides, that's not what this post is about.

This post is about the cover of the Transformers Theme done by Mute Math. I'm not a huge fan of Mute Math - I think they're just okay - but this song is pretty radical. The chorus gets me - the way lead singer Paul Meany's voice sounds when it lifts and blends with the high notes - and...it's kind of hot. That should not be surprising to you. Robots who disguise themselves into seemingly ordinary vehicles but are really fighting machines?! Epitome of hot. And based on Logic & Reasoning 101, that would mean that Transformers and all things concerned with Transformers are hot.

You know it!

To Katy, on her 29th birthday.

Katy.
I love you.
Girl, you know it's true.
When I see a Debbie Gibson hat,
I think of you.

Standing in the hallway
Six grade dance
with your hat and sweater from Maurices.
Right there and then,
I knew I would like you more than I liked Reeces Pieces.

We're grown now,
and our boobs are bigger.
Especially yours.
When you wear your boobie tops,
you could rack up a one-night-stand score.
You don't, though,
mainly because you're not a dirty whore.

You say fun things like "dirty darn"
and "TOOT-TOOT".
I got "cream my jeans" from you.
And every time I hear "Eat shit!" or "dirty bastard!",
You come into my mind too.

You're my best friend.
For life, forever.
Even if I find someone to lay,
our bond will never sever.
V-Club Reunite!
Saving then losing the V-Card
was our first endeavor.
Now we're the last singles in our group.
Which pretty much makes us the coolest chicks ever.
That didn't really rhyme, but I don't give a shit.

So here's to you, Katy,
on your 29th birthday.
Hey hey hey,
hey hey,
hey hey hey hey,
hey.

Basically tonight we're just going to talk about things I want to go to.

Listening To: Transformers Theme by Lion

So a few weeks ago I went to Shrek The Third with my work friends, 'Thena and Stacey. We're sitting there, watching the previews. I made a snarky comment to Stacey along the lines of "So, did we come here for a movie? I can't seem to remember since it's been an hour of previews and commercials". Then all of a sudden, another preview comes on, but this one catches my attention. I stop my bitching and begin to stare wide-eyed at the screen. "Oh my god, you guys. Oh my god," I said, rocking back and forth in my seat from pure hyper anticipation. "We so have to go see that movie!" If you were sitting behind me, you might have thought I was having a seizure from all the squealing and shaking I was doing. I was excited.

But people don't understand. There are only three movie remakes of a cartoon or TV show that I've ever wanted to see - He-Man/She-Ra (double-feature in my perfect world imagination), Jem & The Holograms, and Transformers. Which one of the three, based on difficulty, did you think would never happen? But it is, and it looks fucking amazing.

So I'm pumped. Not as pumped as I am about the sweet cover of the Transformers Theme I posted that sounds like the best metal rock ever, but pretty pumped.

Ticketmaster can fucking blow me.

Listening To: Beware by Deftones

So Deftones on the 17th. Really, really, really wanna go. Wanted to go last time they were in town, but I had some bridesmaid thing that night (plus the show sold out in like, a day). This time, there was another bridesmaid thing I've been waiting to see if I had to be a part of. Turns out I don't. So off to Ticketmaster I go.

Two things I hate about Ticketmaster:

1. The first one is - and this is kind of petty - their whole "YOU MUST COMPLETE THIS PAGE IN 1 MINUTE" deal. I don't like it when people rush me. Don't tell me what to do, fuckers. Maybe sometimes I want to take my time when I order tickets to a show. You know, enjoy the experience, light an aromatherapy candle, sip some wine, etc. So this irritates me, especially when that ticket-buying happens to be, like, a month after tickets went on sale...I hardly think anyone is waiting with bated breath for me to go over my time limit so they can snatch up my tickets.

2. This is a big one - fucking nine bucks as a convienence charge?! As all of us know, I'm not rollin' in the dough, but I'm also not a cheap-ass. I don't mind spending money on things that are important to me. Yet this is ridiculous. I'm buying advance tickets to a show, right? Which I know most performers (or more so, record companies, managers, etc) prefer, so they have an idea of what kind of crowd they're playing to, how lucrative the city/venue is, etc. Ticketmaster also likes advance sales because it gives them an advance perspective on profits. So you would think that Ticketmaster...oh, I don't know...would want to make it appealing to buy advance tickets, maybe? Uh, no. When you buy two tickets, add in the convenience charge, then add in whatever they charge you if you don't want to pick them up at Will Call, then add tax, and basically I'm paying at least 20 extra dollars. Not worth it, esp. when it's a venue like Myth or First Ave where everything is general admission/standing room (except for VIP, and let's not talk about that).

So it looks like I'm going to be suckering someone into waiting in line with me for tickets at the door. Which is cool. I'm a scrappy girl. I don't mind hanging out with the hoi polloi. Plus the whole time I'll be thinking about that sweet twenty bucks in my wallet that Ticketmaster didn't get.

The bitches.

That's right, kids...under this belt lies more than just an amazing pair of knickers...there's lifesaving skills somewhere under there, too.

Wow. That EMT training I did about two years ago and my First Responder renewals since then has really come in handy in the past two weeks. I haven't had to use them in, what, maybe a year? Good thing it's all happening at once, because otherwise I would start to wonder if my "let's make tons of same shit happen all at the same time for Amber" life curse had been lifted...and if that happened, what would I have to write about?

So let's count it down -

1. Two weeks ago I was getting ready to leave the gas station I always stop at after work. Through my rear view mirror I noticed an SUV suddenly stop right behind me, at an odd diagonal angle. At first I was irritated, since they were somewhat blocking me from reversing out of my parking space in a normal fashion. You'll be happy to know that my superior driving skills enabled me to make my way out, though. As I started to drive away, I threw a look at the SUV and noticed that the driver, an elderly man, was sitting in the vehicle with his head on the steering wheel.

So I re-parked and went up to the drivers' side window, the whole time praying that the guy inside wasn't just going to yell at me for bothering him. I knocked on the window repeatedly until he finally raised his head and rolled down the window. "Sir, are you okay?" I asked. He responded with, "I think I'm having a heart attack."

So I called 911, stayed with him until they came, did the whole "witness report" deal, and that was that.

2. Last week: So when you work with kids you find out that kids really dig marshmallows. Well, there happens to be a client of mine who really, really, really digs marshmallows. After a particularly great job during a group activity, a colleague of mine gave him two big marshmallows as reinforcement. The client proceeds to stuff both marshmallows into his mouth at the same time, then attempts to swallow them. Yeah. Had to do the Heimlich on that one. Poor kid - he was so shaken and scared when it was all over that he started crying and kept saying "down the wrong pipe" as I carried him to bathroom to clean him up.

So for now on we're only going to give him mini-marshmallows, and only one at a time.

3. Last night was Katy's birthday gathering. We were sitting on the patio, figuring out our tab, when two guys pulled out of the parking lot and drove by on their motorcycles, revving their engines as they passed. As I find that extremely annoying, I shot a dirty look in their direction. That just happened to be at the same exact time as the moment when one of them lost control while trying to navigate the curve of the drive. His motorcycle flipped on its' side, sending the guy - headfirst - into the curb. (Maybe my death looks really are deathly!)

So when you train to become an EMT, First Responder training comes first. During that time, you kind of have to agree that if something happens while you're on a plane or in a restaurant, etc., you're not just going to sit around and wait for the ambulance to show up. So I take off running. I'm sure I looked amazing. I had forgotten the bag of clothes I had packed for the night when I left home that morning to hang out at Katy's house, and so I had borrowed an outfit of Katy's when we got ready to go out. Katy has a lot of "boobie tops". I don't, so I thought I would live a little and let the girls out for a night on the town, right? Not really thinking that there was going to be a medical emergency I would have to respond to, obviously.

So I'm running, the boobs are bouncing all over the place, and the host at the door kind of watches me careen towards him. He puts his hand up as if to stop me, and in response I just kind of half/breathe, half/yell, "Can you please call 911 there was a motorcycle accident by the patio area and tell them there are responders on the scene thanks".

As I'm running towards the injured cyclist, the other cyclist tries to stop me, yelling at me that his friend is okay. "Uh, he's not getting up and he's bleeding all over the place, therefore he's not okay, "I point out. "I'm not just going to go back inside and ignore your friend because you told me to." So the guy waves me over, but tells me not to call 911. I look at him, extremely annoyed, and inform him that there are probably ten people inside who have already called 911. Turns out the injured party apparently didn't have every document needed to own and operate a motorcycle, and the fact that he crashed after leaving an establishment that serves alcohol...the math is pretty elementary.

So anyway - checked for trauma, shock, stabilized the kid, the gamut. All the time trying to make sure the luscious mountains stayed in my shirt as I did the assessments. Usually that's last thing on your mind - I've ripped off my shirt before to create a makeshift tourniquet during a call a couple of years ago - but it's not when you happen to be standing outside a restaurant patio with twenty observers. If the situation is not life-threatening, I'm gonna make sure those babies are stayin' inside. Gotta save somethin' for the imaginary boyfriend, right?!

Ambulance came, I re-joined the crew, and the night continued on with Katy's birthday celebration.

So yeah, fun times. Hopefully next week I'll be walking by a river somewhere and someone will be drowning, because I haven't quite had the chance to practice my lifeguard skills in a while, either.

Is that a DEBBIE GIBSON HAT you're wearing, Fergie?!

(you gotta watch it to see it)



'Cause if it is, I know a girl who might like to borrow it for her birthday party tonight...

Uncool and totally lame.

This made me publicly embarrass myself at Chatterbox last night, while waiting for the others to show up at Music Bingo. My snorting was heard 'round the way.

BTW - Did you guys know that Dan and I met for the very first time last night?! It was the awesome.

Refresh.

I used to have a friend who always used "for me to poop on" as a comeback or punchline. As in, "Yeah, that would be really fun...for me to poop on!", or "That sounds really great...for me to poop on!". Over and over and over, he would say this. For everything. While I kind of detest the word "poop" - esp. used in the context of "poop on you" - this, for some reason, was hilarious.

The only thing is, I can't remember which friend it was that always did this. And is it from a movie, or a show, or some other cultural event that I should know about?

Someone help me out...not only do my hips seem to be giving out, but my memory seems to be going the way of the buffalo as well. And I'm only 28.

But thank God that I won't die a virgin. God certainly answered my lifelong prayers on that one...

I can't help it. I hear the first strains of "Mr. Roboto", and it's like a ROBOT takes over my BODY.

This is what happens when people miss Music Bingo and Jeremy and I are left to amuse ourselves. Next time, show up, fuckers.


Thanks to Jeremy for letting me steal this.

And for the record, he wasn't stalking her...he was simply mesmerized by her "I'm blind and innocent" beauty.

Listening To: Hello by Lionel Richie


I'm starting to get really irritated with everyone making fun of the clay sculpture of Lionel Richies' head in the video for "Hello".

Let me remind you - the girl's BLIND. She can't see! She doesn't know what Lionel Richie looks like. She has no idea that he's a handsome man with a delicate bone structure. All she has to go on is what she feels through her hands, gliding over Lionel's face. Smooth, delicate, and gentle motions, feeling the features of his face as you would the petals of a delicate flower.

So let me say this - it's a MIRACLE that she was able to sculpt a blob of lifeless, red clay into a stunning likeness of his face and afro-hair. You and I BOTH KNOW that when we saw that video for the first time and she turned that pedestal to reveal her work of art, we GASPED. HOW COULD SHE DO THIS? SHE'S BLIND, AND YET SEES HIM THROUGH THE EYES OF LOVE! HELLO! It IS him she's looking for!

Oh, love...you can make even the dumbest blind girl do miraculous things through the art medium of red clay. And I think that's just beautiful.

Damn...another hard days' rockin...

So aside from my hips being janky, this has been a pretty tremendous week. Let's list it out, bitches -

1. So the writing has been going really well. It's basically the "Losing You" series, but fleshed out to a much darker, grittier story, which means that I tend to get darker and more pensive the more I write it. So the past couple of days I told myself that I could only work on it if I had a thought or an idea that absolutely had to be written down. Which, of course, meant that I came up with a myriad of thoughts and ideas that had to be written down. It's all good, though...I'm not going to complain about being productive, but I think a few hours of "The Girls Next Door" on E! will be required to balance it all out.

2. Roommate date last night. Rich took me out on his motorcycle and bought me sushi and beer. As he should...you get what you pay for, and my company and conversation are highly sought in some circles (And yes, there does happen to be some very intelligent people on the MTV message boards...you don't come up with a nickname like "Trashelle" - for Trishelle on Las Vegas Real World - if you don't have a brain).

3. I got to perform the Heimlich Maneuver today at work. For reals. As in, an actual person was choking. They lived.

4. Music Bingo tonight! TOOT-TOOT!

5. It's Katy's birthday celebration on Saturday! I just might have to write her another little poem in honor of the occasion...

Grindin'.

Listening To: It Hurts by Angels & Airwaves

Oooh...it's gonna be a rough week.

So I have this thing called DDH, Developmental Dysplasia of the Hip, which is a congenital condition of the hip joint, blah blah blah. Long story short, I was born without a hip socket. Thus, as a baby I had to be in traction and wear this awesome cast (that's it in the picture...not fifty diapers piled on top of one another like people usually think when they see the photo for the first time) and harness so my body would be forced to form one. Since the body doesn't apparently like doing that because it's not 'magical' like the womb, my hips, let's just say, are pretty much shit.

It's unpredictable, but every once in a while the hips will just whack out. I use the plural sense because apparently my other hip has had to compensate for my originally janky one. Some nights, like tonight, I can feel my pelvis sliding around while my sockets try to move back into position. That would actually be kind of cool if it weren't so painful. The worst, though, is when they are out of joint for days on end.

Like this week, apparently.

They get stiff if I sit too long. They get sore if I move too much. I'll stand up and suddenly find myself walking all gimpy like, which looks super cool to the untrained eye but is actually quite embarrassing. And it's this constant, dull, ache-y pain. Back when I had boyfriends, they used to help me move my pelvis back into place - I would lay flat on the floor and instruct them to slid their hands underneath my hips and pull forward. You could hear a little cracking sound when they did that, like the noise that comes from cracking your back or neck. Sometimes that would freak them out...I didn't really care though, because the relief always outweighed their little-girly-man quivers.

Maybe someday I'll be able to sucker some super buff guy into marrying me. That way he can lift me up and carry me places when the ol' hips give out, like when I'm 40. Soon enough I'll get a hip replacement. It seems to be a requirement for the DDH club. Then it will be all metal, all the time.

For now, though, I'm just gonna lay here and groan softly as my hips grind against each other. Which would usually sound like a pretty hot scenario, but tonight...not so much.

Sunday Seventeen

So this is another one of those survey things that gets passed around from blogger to blogger. But I'm doing it, because I haven't done one in a long time and the person who sent it to me is a good friend. So I'm doing it.

The trick to this one is that the number of questions you're required to answer depends on what day you post it on. Tuesday Twelve, Thursday Thirteen, Friday Fifteen, Saturday Sixteen, Sunday Seventeen. Apparently Monday and Wednesday are religious days.

But wipe that smirk off your face - you're all next.

1. Last song you downloaded:
"Carmina Burana I: O Fortuna" by the London Symphony, originally composed by Orff.

2. What song are you listening to right now?
"Killing In The Name" by Rage Against The Machine

3. Any nicknames?
My dad calls me 'Moosehead' or 'Mooselips'. I can't think of a guy friend I've had who didn't call me 'AC'...Katy sometimes calls me 'Sweet Tits'. I had a boyfriend once who used to call me 'Toots', but he's the only person I've ever met who could actually pull that off.

4. Your heritage?
Lotsa English and German, with some Native American (Chippewa), French, Irish, and Norwegian sprinkled in for good measure.

5. One thing that people might not know about you.
I like to listen to "May This Be Love" by The Jimi Hendrix Experience while I'm standing in front of my bathroom sink, shaving my legs.

6. First kiss: Spill it.
Junior year of high school. I was at my boyfriends' house. We had been watching movies, and it was almost my curfew. I was tying my shoes, and when I finished and sat back up against the couch, he dove in. All of a sudden his tongue was down my throat, and it was like one of those jack-hammer kisses. Afterwards, I remember being stunned, thinking, "That was what I've waited three months for?!". The second kiss, though...I saw stars during that one.

7. First 'Time': Love or lust?
Um, not even lust. More like, "He's good at everything else, so maybe we'll just try this, too."

8. First wedding dance?
"Every Rose Has It's Thorn" by Poison. No, really, I've always thought "Sweet Thing" by Van Morrison would be pretty cool, for anything - processional, dance, the pouring of the punch...

9. Favorite place in Minneapolis?
I really love the third floor of the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. I think I'll probably end up haunting it after I die.

10. Song that reminds people of you.
This is a weird question. The only one I can think of is when my hottie friend Scott (of whom apparently there was a mutual crush when we worked at camp together, but we didn't find out about it until five years later. Sad) told me that "Dream On" by Aerosmith always reminded him of me. There might be a really good story in there. I don't know it.

11. Who would you want to be tied to for 24 hours?
Oooh...I would normally pick Katy, but I think she would stand behind my decision to choose Redirt for this instead. It would be delightful to mentally harass him for 24 straight hours. I've had the song "Umbrella" by Rihanna stuck in my head for hours, and it would give me pleasure to have someone to sing it to, over and over and over again, who couldn't just walk away whenever they wanted to.

12. What is the last thing you do every night before you go to bed?
It changes nightly. Sometimes I like to watch The Daily Show, sometimes I like to read, sometimes I like to write some stuff, sometimes I like to pleasure myself while listening to "Through The Eyes of Love" by Melissa Manchester.

13. What would you say about your last ex?
That he's an ex. That's really all that needs to be said, right?

14. When was your last date?
Why the fuck does everyone keep asking me this?! It was last July. I've been busy...busy not going on dates.

15. How was it?
Obviously not that great.

16. Party: Entertainer or the entertained?
Oooh...good question. I tend to be fairly skilled at amusing myself, so I'm not a person whom requires that someone else be entertaining them at all times. If the possibility arises, however, I enjoy it.

17. Favorite humanitarian cause?
I've long been a loyal and enthusiastic supporter of the Red Feather Development Group.

Things I learned last evening -

1. Redirt has a nice voice. Don't tell him I said that, though. He did not agree that my voice was deeper and sexier than on the Chasing Windmills videos. Which actually kind of hurt my feelings, but don't tell him I said that, either.

2. Hippo: Next time we pull a prank, maybe you should actually listen to me when I tell you what I'm going to do, so you don't fuck it up when I actually do it. Way to go, slick.

3. Drummers make me cream my jeans. I've always had a thing for them, ever since 5th grade band when Nic Fauchald started playing the drums and I suddenly started to see him in a new light. Guitarists, lead singers...they're okay. There's a couple who stand out. But drummers? HOT. The opening band for Styx could have been unbearable were it not for the young, talented and SUPER HOT HOTTIE drummer. Seriously, when he ripped his shirt off and then started pounding on the drum set, I thought I was going to have an orgasm right there on the stage floor, surrounded by a swarm of middle-aged Styx fans. Which is kind of gross when you think about it.

4. STYX ARE AMAZING LIVE. They might be old, but they still know how to do some straight-up rockin'. The number one thing I hate about concerts is the sound quality. The number two thing I hate about concerts - esp. when it's an "old band" doing a revival show - is that they sound rusty, strange. Styx did not have either of these problems. The keyboardist might need someone to tell him to put it away (he had a keyboard on a revolving pedestal, and during solos he would turn his back to the crowd so we could watch his ass as he grooved out a sweet tune...gyrating old men are strangely hypnotic, but afterwards they just make you feel dirty and strange inside), but other than that, everyone else retained the same old magic. "Sail Away" and "Renegade"...oh my fucking god. "Renegade" is one of my all-time favorite songs - come to a campfire party of mine and I'll demonstrate how much I loves it (plural just for you, Jeremy)- and they just killed it as their encore. KILLED IT.

5. Brits can be kind of lame. Jen and I went there after the concert to hit up a birthday party (Sarah, remember: This is your year to take your shirt off in a public place. Don't let me down), and when we got there - 11pm - it was already kind of dead. Brits is not really my scene - I'm not so into the whole preppy garden-party type crowd that tends to frequent the place - but it can be great on a Thursday night when it's nice enough to hang out on the rooftop. Patronizing it on a Saturday night and sitting in the clubhouse...not so much fun.

6. McDonalds doesn't stay open very late.

7. Wendy's does.

And just so you know, I AM going to the Styx concert tomorrow night.

So else watches Vh1's "40 Most Softsational Soft-Rock Songs" and wants to immediately download every song on that show that they do not already have in their iTunes library?

No? It's just me?

Okay then...

"I want you to come over and have sex with me - and then disappear."

Yep. Pretty much.