Neeeeeeeeeerds!!!

Every September, my friend, Spux, has a bar crawl to celebrate his birthday. And, every year, the bar crawl has some kind of costume theme.

I met Spux New Year's Eve before last (2009) and so I'd just missed the Debutante Crawl. Last year, I had something going on during the Bible Crawl and missed that one too. So this year, the year of the Nerd, I was hellbound and determined to make it.

Why?

Because A) I helped pick the theme and B) because hello! NERDS! w00t!

Spux as Ogre at the Nerd Crawl

Now, truthfully, I'm terrible with costumes. It's not that I don't like costumes because I totally do. It's that I don't like ME in body-shape inappropriate costumes and, let's face it, most costumes are not conducive to the Jane body shape.

But nerd shape? I'm totally that.

I had some costuming ideas going into Saturday just past (the day of the Crawl), most of which I shared with Acr0nym on our 2,200+ mile trek through the heartland. He, in turn, stole every one when we arrived back home and started to put our costumes together in earnest.

Acr0nym pointing to his calculator watch and hiding his pocket protector.

And, since I didn't have time to order a calculator watch or have a shirt requiring a pocket protector, I was left scrambling on Saturday morning for anything resembling nerdery...well...except the trapper keeper I'd purchased on the road.

Luckily, Spux was in a mood to nerd shop Saturday afternoon. Hence, he and I headed over to the K-Mart - not to buy lawn darts but to buy a nerd shirt.



And! Oh boy! Did we ever find a nerd shirt 2 sizes too big and full of the awesome for me to wear.

Powder blue sweatshirt with a kitten and gold studs on it. Who could possibly ask for anything more? Well...besides me carrying a violin case (which I didn't do but wanted to but didn't because a violin case could draw suspicion from law enforcement a la St. Valentine's Day massacre...like we weren't already drawing serious attention to ourselves already).

Here I am in full nerditude...

Jane...er...at the end of the night. Photo (dis)courtesy of Acr0nym

Now...you should know...mommy (me) drinks.

Also? You should know, Spux's friend, Kelli, built an actual "panty cannon" - a cannon that fires panties - just for the occasion.

Spux with Princess Kelli's Panti-Blaster

At precisely 9 p.m. on Saturday at Blue Ice on Broadway, Nerd Mayhem commenced.

Here are some of my favorite shots...

Jane & Peej on a stick (there's obviously a story there)

Spux and Hans Gothwökkit at...er...I have no idea

Spux and panties from the panty cannon

Acr0 & DK - NERDS! My favorite shot of the night.

Peej and Peej on a stick at (I think) Skylark.

Peej and Jane at...huh? I dunno where.

There were WAY more people and WAY more pictures than these but A) I didn't want to clog your readers with pictures and B) I didn't want to bother gathering up permissions from every person photographed (some of whom I did not know and some I would not want to ask).

Point is? The Nerd Crawl? Was The. Best. Ever! Everyone had a most excellent time! There were panties hanging from wires and in the street, there were nerds a plenty, there were hipsters we were sure were part of the Crawl but then figured out they weren't when they were slightly offended to be mistaken as such...I guess it's all in their "irony"...er...or something. There were bars and cocktails and beers and shots and hoots and shenanigans and, at the very end, Nerd Karaoke.

OK fine but just this one of Nerd Karaoke because hello! Nerd Karaoke!

*sigh*

The Nerd Crawl? Was a mighty fine time. The hangover? Most definitely worth it.

Happiest of birthdays, September babies! Thanks for letting me tag along. And, most especially, happy birthday, Spux. You know how to throw one helluva party.

OhmygawdIlovegin

1) This lunchtime interruption thing is getting ridiculous. Wednesday, after I'd already been interrupted twice, I finally said to a certain someone who conducts my annual review, "Et tu, Brute?" And then begged to please please please have 10 minutes just to myself so I could eat my lunch and relax before the next wave of organized chaos. She backed out of my office...slowly.

2) My father made it through surgery just fine and my niece is taking good care of him...or so it would seem. I think she was a little nonplussed when she heard me ask my dad how his penis was (he'd had surgery on his enlarged prostate). She'll get over it...I think. Hopefully I didn't just add 10 years onto her therapy. Anyway, yeah. He's apparently fine and back to (almost) normal based on the fact that I had to hear a 10-minute rundown this morning on his unsuccessful attempts to have a bowel movement but I consider that getting off lightly. This only makes sense to the rest of my family.

3) If you can't cry in front of your hairdresser, just who can you cry in front of? Case in point: my adorable hairdresser Sarah said to me, as we both sat there weeping this afternoon, "Wow. I do believe this is the most awkward appointment we've ever had." Yeah. You think? In her defense, her grandmother just died. In my defense, I feel like my grandmother just died...if I'd had a grandmother I actually knew. I still came out with awesome hair so the awkwardness was worth it.

4) I really really really really wish I could put purple streaks in my hair. I'm fairly certain I would love to just make my gray streaks purple. Then maybe I wouldn't feel as though I'd aged 10 years in the last year. But I can't. Because I'm a grown up. With a grown up job. Dammit.

5) Also? I really really really really wish I was here right now:



Drinking martinis and smelling the salt air and feeling the tropical sea breezes...

But I'm not.

6) Dear Facebook,
Please stop suggesting that particular person as a friend for me. Really? She is not a friend. Just...trust me on this one. kthxbye.

7) I went to the gay/pride-themed Geeks Who Drink night the other night with a group of incredible women. We were the Leave It to Cleavage team. We finished 11th out of 22 teams. Not bad for our first go as a team...and for a group who'd never watched The L Word or Queer As Folk.

One of the questions was about Matthew Shepard. I don't think I'll ever be able to stop crying for Matthew Shepard. Just sayin'.

Photo credit: Lux Obscura Note: this is not THE fence...but as close as he could find.

8) Is anyone else terrified of moldy bread? Seriously.

I was making a sandwich yesterday afternoon and, before I would reach my hand into the plastic sack, had to examine the bread for mold. Because if there's mold? I won't touch it with bare hands.

And yet...

I love bleu cheese...

And penicillin.

9) One of my favorite bloggers, Naked Jen, asked me to hang out with her the next time I'm in SLC. She didn't have to ask me twice. I'd love to give her the biggest, loveliest hug I've got stored. We've never met. And I love her.

10) At pig roasty goodness happy hour with the Jack of Fables tonight, I realized I don't actually hate anyone. Not anyone from my past or present. I either love you or I don't care. It sounds cliché but hate the sin, love the sinner...or just don't care at all. I don't put any energy into hate because...well...hate means someone's got power over me and I'm not about to turn power over me to someone who doesn't deserve it.

Most of you? Totally don't deserve it. Um...actually? None of you deserve it. But especially not someone I don't love.

How to Make Friends Over Sunsets and Martinis

Betsy and I discovered deck 12 aft our very first evening on the cruise.

Deck 12 was the top deck and aft means the back o' the boat.

We spent the vast majority of our time on the back of the ship as our stateroom was deck 10 aft, our favorite breakfast place was deck 11 aft, and our favorite cocktail hour place was deck 12 aft. It was, by and large, the quietest area of the ship and far enough away from the pool area, buffet, and nightclub where most people stayed.

We found our spot that evening - our first - when we were looking for a quieter area to have cocktails while we watched the ship leave the Port of Miami.

The Miami skyline from Deck 12

That same evening we would discover how gorgeous the sunsets were from this very spot and were determined to return the next evening.

The next day - our first full day - found us docked in Freeport, Grand Bahama Island. We considered getting off the ship...for about 30 seconds...and then decided we really had no interest in doing anything of the sort. I took my laptop to the pool deck to write and Betsy wandered the ship looking for a quiet, comfy place to read her book.

Her exploration led her to the library - one would think a brilliant place to find a comfy out of the way space in which to indulge in a bit of vacation reading. As she walked in, a woman followed her, both in search of the same thing. Both were terribly disappointed to find that the so-called library, while having a display of books, was a most unfriendly place in which to while away the afternoon. The books were behind glass, there were some gentlemen huddled around a table playing chess and laughing, and the only chairs about were what you might have found in your grandmother's parlor. Stiff. Unyielding. After a friendly exchange with the other woman, they parted company and Betsy resigned herself to a lounge chair on the pool deck not far from me.

Later, after I'd napped and we'd both showered and changed our clothes for supper, we wandered back up to deck 12 to watch the ship depart Freeport and enjoy the sunset.

There weren't many people milling about up there. Bruce was playing his selections of Cat Stevens, James Taylor, the Beatles, and Van Morrison just below us on deck 11 and we were able to grab the perfect sunset table on 12 - near enough to hear the music and far enough away to be undisturbed by it.

Just as the sun began to turn the sky brilliant shades of pink and purple, a woman came and stood at the railing just in front of Betsy, blocking the view.

Betsy said, "Oh no! Please, please move!"

The woman turned, apologized, and then both exclaimed at the same time, "You're the woman from the library!"

Laughing, we asked her to join us and she happily did. Her name was Susan, originally from Long Island, living in Florida. Mother to a teenage daughter and listener of the NPR (hello, soul sister, welcome to our table). She was on the cruise with a girlfriend of hers.

We had a lovely visit and were joined by a new friend, JR, she'd met the previous night at Captain Cook's piano bar. JR, it would turn out, was from a little town in Indiana of which both Betsy and I were most familiar.

We parted ways around supper time, Betsy and I opting for the relative calm of the Longboard bar before retiring to our stateroom where there was wine and a balcony, Susan and JR off to meet Susan's friend somewhere else. But, before we parted ways, we agreed to meet the next night for the sunset and martinis.

Each night then, we met on deck 12 aft in time for cocktail hour and the sunset. I did join Susan, JR, and Tara (Susan's friend) for one evening of debauchery at Captain Cook's with Laurie the lounge singer where, even if I wanted to disclose the number of gin and tonics I drank, I couldn't because I cannot remember. I do remember "Sweet Thang" - a redneck who introduced himself to Laurie as such as a joke...but the joke was really on him when it stuck. Sweet Thang wanted very much to hook up with someone...anyone...that night and did his darnedest to get it to be me...for awhile. Silly boy. I'm a professional gin and tonic consumer. I go home with no one. But if you'd like to buy me a drink or two, please feel free.

I spent some time with the three of them at the pool on our last afternoon while Betsy found a nook to read some more.

Mostly though, the time was spent with Betsy or by myself - writing, thinking, daydreaming, napping, and looking forward to martinis, the sunset, and new cruise friends followed by my most favorite time...balcony and wine time alone with my mom. Making memories.

Betsy & her martini - deck 12 aft with Nassau, Bahamas in the background

Do Not Disturb

This is a recording.

Jane is enjoying the very last drops of her Bahamas vacation and didn't bother to write anything postable today. Instead, she drank WAY too much gin last night, hung herself over (but was not flung over board), and has been nursing herself back to optimum health by eating bacon, napping, and mentally preparing herself for disembarkation.

She will return to her regularly scheduled program tomorrow.

End recording.

PS It's an incredible thing to realize at the end of a vacation like this how much I'm looking forward to getting back to my life.

I love my life.

An Interlude

I'm woefully behind on reading my blog reader again, Folks.

I've been attending a work conference for the last few days and still have 2 more days of sessions before I'll have time for anything having to do with my personal life but I'm chomping at the bit to catch up with everyone.

Speaking of the conference, I received what I consider to be the best conference swag ever. It's what every professional party of one hostess needs...

A mini-martini shaker.




It is SO cute!

And no, you can't have it.

Even though I have the gin and juice (olive), I have not the time to concoct a martini. At least not until next Friday night...just in time for the post-apoca-audit party because...

It's official!

The audit is over and I can get back to my regularly scheduled program...just as soon as this conference is over.

And then I'll be Bahamas bound and do you know what happens in the Bahamas?

No really. I'm asking. Do you know what happens in the Bahamas? Because I don't. But I'm happily ready to find out.

I suspect it'll be me happening...attempting to find shade...cocktail and book in hand.

And there will be naps. Lots and lots of naps.

Stop the Insanity

I needed to go to the bank to cash a check and get laundry quarters.

So this morning, shortly after the bank by my work opened, I headed over to take care of my business.

As I was walking in and even as I was waiting for the next available teller, I was distracted, digging in my purse for my checkbook and ID, thinking about what was on my list of things to accomplish today.

The teller who assisted me was friendly. It took only a few moments for us to conduct our business so that I could be on my way. But I do remember she smiled warmly and thanked me for my business.

As I walked out into the parking lot, still distracted with now putting my wallet away, 5 Arapahoe Country Sheriff patrol cars swarmed the lot.

WTF?!

I half expected them all to leap from their vehicles with drawn guns, shouting for me to put my hands in the air.

Uhm...

A bank employee emerged - his name is John - he assisted me when I needed to exchange foreign currency - and I heard him tell one of the officers, "Everything is just fine".

I couldn't hear the rest of the conversation so I don't know what happened.

I hypothesize that someone accidentally triggered the silent alarm.

But it got me to thinking...

That's how it happens.

One minute we're going about our business...yapping at each other on our cell phones, texting, digging around in over-large pocketbooks for whatever it is we're hunting for...and BOOM!

We're hearing this:




That's more than a little disturbing.

Because I was distracted, not paying attention, I could have walked in on a highly volatile situation in which my life would have been in peril.

I imagined myself walking through the door of the bank, digging in my pocketbook, and having a gun thrust to my head...or worse, a bullet tearing through me and having no idea what was happening because I was too busy living in my own personal bubble.

I do it all the time.

Most of us do.

Have you ever driven somewhere and all of a sudden realized you had no idea how you arrived at your destination - literally no recall of the journey?

Often, particularly first thing in the morning as I'm headed toward work, and usually on the same stretch of University from the light at Speer to about Ohio, I realize I have absolutely no recollection of driving. I'll remember vaguely sitting at the light at Speer¹ and can't remember anything else after that until I come to and realize I've been on autopilot for several minutes, listening to my music, thinking about the day ahead, planning what I'll fix for dinner or wear to an event.

And it hit me. We're on autopilot most of the time...especially when we're out in a public situation. Isolated, encapsulated in our own little blissfully ignorant bubbles - only concerned with what we're having for supper².

The only thing that's capable of bursting that bubble is tragedy. An accident, a bullet.

I was struck again by the same thought this afternoon as I inched my way through the brutal Friday afternoon traffic.

When did we stop paying attention? When did we stop caring about what was happening around us and only giving a rat's ass about what was happening inside our cars?



I've long held the belief that technology - as wonderful as it is, as much as I embrace and love it - is fast becoming the downfall of society. We no longer know how to interact with one another, how to be courteous, how to pay attention to what's happening right in front of our faces...

Because we're plugged in...to something virtual. That doesn't actually exist outside of our computer screens and smartphones.

We've forgotten what it is to interact with each other outside of anonymous postings on websites.

We cannot function without "Like" buttons. We clamor for "Dislike" buttons.

We abbreviate our sentences to read like a song title from a Prince album circa 1984.

WTF, people?



We are rarely forced to interact with one another beyond work and internet. We can order our groceries online and have them delivered, for heaven's sake.

We are losing valuable skills as we live Second Lives or live our first lives³ in oblivion - foregoing common sense for selfish pursuits.

Emily Post is obsolete...isn't she?

Do we even know who that is anymore?

This terrifies me. That we will become so isolated - living in our own heads where everything is clearly "all about me", that we'll forget how to be courteous, how to survive in a world populated with many different personalities of which we each have no control of "hiding" when we don't like what they have to say or do - that we will no longer be able to function beyond the computer screen in front of us.

Robots.

Automatons.

Socially retarded.

Let's just stop it.

Before it becomes the death of us all.






1: I've never hit that light on green as long as I've lived at The Grotto. Never.

2: Steak. It's what's for dinner.




3: Whether this is your primary life is up to you.

So You Go & You Stand On Your Own

I'm supposed to be working.

I have a shitpile of fixed assets to retire before I can move forward with everything else on my audit to do list.

Instead, I'm attempting to get caught up on my blog roll. Because seriously? 299 unread posts?

I guess that's what happens when you virtually follow a bunch of writers around. They actually write stuff that then needs to be read. And the more days that pass during which I don't have time to read, the more entries get posted and the further behind I feel.

I had a quiet mini weep fest at the goth club last night.

It sounds so cliche...right out of a Smiths song, doesn't it?

Alas, that would be me Morrissey must have been singing about...and not in a good way.

When I'm tired - and I suppose this is likely true for nearly everyone - I lose all my ability to filter. Add gin to that equation and, well, I suspect (read remember) myself of saying and doing things last night that appall me today.

Amends will likely have to be made.

I hope everyone really likes cake.

Have I Ever Mentioned I'm Only Slightly Addicted to Celebrity Gossip?

This drunken blog brought to you by Bombay Sapphire Gin and Target brand diet tonic w/lime¹. And also Blue Diamond Habanero BBQ almonds.

OK, so I'm not actually drunk...yet. But I am "nursing" my first gin and tonic and shall work my way through a second likely before the night and I are put to bed.

Anyway!

You know what's really fun?

Singing along to a feel good song while using the paw of a supine cat as a microphone.

Vinny was lying on his favorite pillow - an $80 chiropractic pillow that fits his ass to a tee - minding his own business and I was lying next to him listening to the mp3 player on my new Samsung Captivate smartphone and singing to him. He stretched out his paw to me - likely to try to get me to quidit - but I took it as a sign to use his outstretched limb like I would a hairbrush.

He wasn't particularly happy.

But it made me happy.

I don't like to admit it, but the song I was singing to him was Chris Brown's Forever.

I was introduced to this song through a youtube video that I cannot watch without bursting into happy tears².



I do not like admitting that I own this song for two reasons. A) It's kind of an embarrassing song to like when you're a punk rock goth goddess³ and B) I can't stand the fact that I supported Chris Brown's career after he did this to his girlfriend, Rihanna:


^{photo compliments of NY Daily News}

However, I did make a donation to a battered women's shelter after I'd downloaded the single...not that it makes it any better but let's just say that my donation to the shelter was much much muchmuchmuch larger than the 99 cents I paid to download the song from itunes.

Therefore, I am almost guilt free when I listen to the song...but not quite.

Anyway!

Since it's Friday - and you know I like that - I came home from work, stripped down to underthings, and took a much desired nap.

During aforementioned nap, I dreamed a very strange little dream that's stuck with me so you shall now be tormented with hearing about it.

I dreamed that I was with my friend, Matt, who lived next door to the Phoenix family. And by Phoenix family I mean THE Phoenix family - one in which River Phoenix was still alive.

Now, I don't make a habit of dreaming about celebrities...particularly not dead ones. But, as you all may recall from this post, River was no ordinary influence on my life.

In the dream, we went over to the Phoenix family home for some reason...I don't know what...and there we found River at about the age he was when he died and a young Joaquin, still known as Leaf. Mother Phoenix had The Commodores' Easy playing throughout the house on a loop...



And I was dancing with River and then kissing him and trying to give him all my most positive, happy energy...because I knew he was going to be dead in just a short time and wanted to heal him.

And then I was dancing with a Space Camp era Leaf...for the same reason.

And then I woke up. It made me feel all verklempty.

I think I know what drove the dream - and it has nothing to do with River or Joaquin...because that would be just plain weird. I can't talk about it - no really, legally I can't talk about it - but I do know what's driving these subconscious feelings of powerlessness. And it sucks.

In other celebrity death news, who here is applauding loudly at the sound of the death of Mel Gibson's career?

Hey, Mel. I'm working on my second quite strong G&T and guess what? No racial epithets, no rants, no bigoted ramblings or rages are emitting from my mouth. I hope this shuts you the fuck up once and for all.

I was going to talk about Lindsay Lohan's stay in jail but instead I'm just going to shake my head and mutter *tut tut*.

And finally, Hermione Granger - aka Emma Watson - has cut her hair.

Now I know some of you don't believe this is news...and it's not really. But those of us who think Emma Watson is the cutest of the cute and have a slightly possibly pedophilic-like crush on her, I must admit that this new haircut of hers has me all adrool...


^{photo compliments of msnbc.com}

She now sort of reminds me of a young Jennifer Jason Leigh. Except, you know, with personality.






1: I can totally shop at Target again because the CEO apologized for that whole backing of that conservative pig, y'all.

2: Shuddup.

3: And apparent hippy momma but that's another post for another time.

The Week of De(con)struck-sion

Blog Friends,

Today I did a terrible thing.

Quite possibly the worst thing anyone can do for their overall health and well-being...

I mean, aside from drinking martinis until last call followed by wine and good times at a girlfriend's house and then realizing that yes, in fact, the clock is showing the real time of 4 a.m. and you have to be up at 4:20 a.m. to get ready for work because yes, in fact, it is still the work week and whoops but I wouldn't actually know about that one from experience *whistling*.

No, no.

Not quite that terrible but it's bad...really really bad.

Are you ready for it?

I *pregnant pause* took a nap.

And then drank fully caffeinated coffee.

Ha!

Also this week?

I gave myself full permission to not work out and to eat every carb-a-licious thing my heart desired.

Hence, as I lick the last bit of caramel from the luscious piece of caramel pecan New York style cheesecake delivered to me by Angelo's off my fork, I feel as though I may be birthing a 20-pound carbohydrate baby any second.

I'm hoping the refined sugar will negate both the nap and the caffeine.

I think I may be in labor now, in fact.

Wait.

No.

I guess that's just heartburn.

Back to the "good girl" routine next week.

Lost & Found

If you happen to come across a large pile o' flesh colored goo interspersed with some black fabric and some gray hairs?

That would be me.

Melted.

The air conditioning is broken at my office building and was down most of the weekend.

So when I arrived at 6:15 a.m. it was already 82° in my office.

They're working on it...so they say...but as of 3 p.m. it was still broken and I've not yet recovered.

Of course, that could have to do with the 90 minute workout I put in at my un-air conditioned apartment but, you know, whatever.

I'm off to take a cold shower. Appealing on several different levels.

Unfortunately, I've imposed a no-weeknight-gin-and-tonic-or-there-will-be-hell-to-pay rule. Because really? There isn't anything that takes the heat off a girl better than a G&T.