Sunday, August 29, 2004

"Damn hippies" - Jimmy James, News Radio.

Oh, thank goodness, I'm back. Sorry for some of the problems, folks. I really messed up my blog with this post. I think I've worked out all of the bugs (or are they sheep?)

Oh, my God, this is so wrong. Okay, so, I'm a Sheepsheadian, so I like sheep. So I'm going to do this quiz. And I'm a hippy? Because I said flowers go in my hair? I don't even have any hair to wear the damn flowers anymore. Oh, well. Yeah, I guess, I could be kind of hippieish...And he is kind of cute with his rainbow colors.

Peace dude, flower power, ban the bomb... more grass please.
Which flock do you follow?
this quiz was made by alanna

And here I am obviously cooler than I thought...

You're Captain Jack Sparrow: smart, savvy, a demon with the eyeliner and the best damn pirate we've ever seen. And only a litte crazy. Savvy?

Which POTC character are you?
this quiz was made by alanna

And this just figures, I mean the whole untouchable thing. Sigh.

You're Rogue, but not half as angsty and southern as the original. Your habit of absorbing people's energy and powers on touch means that skin/skin contact with other people isn't a good idea, unless you're feeling mean.
Which X2 Character Are You?
this quiz was made by alanna

I'm not sure I buy this. You know some cockney slang, who Margaret Thatcher is and apparently you're 100% British? Although Beth does make a good point about Rowan Atkinson in the comments. To which I reply, "He's Rowan Atkinson. A comic genius. How can you not help but love him?"

Jolly good, wot! Anyone for tennis? That'll be ten ponies, guv. You're the epitome of everything that is english. Yey :) Hoist that Union Jack!

How British are you?
this quiz was made by alanna

Ah, silly memes/quizzes. A fun way to spend an afternoon.

Previous Comments:

At 8:30 PM, Matt said...
Well you peace love granola and all that shit hippie, do you know what I was? I was a neutral sheep. Be proud that you are somthing more than just neutral. That was incredibally fun however, I do wonder however, how random are you? I was slightly random, and I was also Pyro from the X2 quiz, and just for fun I found out that I am Captain Barbossa from the Pirates of the Carribian Quiz, oh and I am also 100% British. ( Try living your life like that once, A neutral fire loving cold blooded 100% British slightly random Pirate. All I can say is ARRRR! Chap)

You are so cool Brewster!Talk to you later,


P.S. You can harsh my buzz anytime!

At 1:52 AM, brooksba said...
Hey DM!

Since you wanted me to comment, I'm commenting. I think the fact that you're Jack Sparrow is the best. You are witty, clever, fun-loving, and adventurous. It seems pretty easy to be 100% British, huh? That I don't get. I think you are the most British of all of us, you're the one in love with Rowan Atkinson. That has to make you 300% British. ;)

Love ya!

Well, at least it's not scissors in the back Random*

I found this through frogstar who was found through frog and now, we have all met on Green Duckies! Frogs of the world, unite! Okay, that was just weird.

*Beth and Keem, you remember Random, don't you? With his happy smiling face one moment and his hissed "Don't you turn your back on me" threats the next. Ah, good times. Good times. I'd blog about it but then I'd probably get sued.

How random are you?

this quiz was made by alanna
Previous Comments:

At 9:01 AM, frogstar said...

:-) yay, a link...

Lady looks like a dude

I was called "Sir" yesterday on the elevator. I went to push the button and the guy standing next to me said "Oh, excuse me, sir." You will be pleased to know that I did not punch him.

Now, I recently handed Keem the clippers and said "Cut my hair." Which is a lot of fun to do to an excessively yellow person (It's weird, before I started working at NABABNA, I had no idea what red or blue or yellow or green meant, other than they were colors, and now, if you ask me to describe myself, the first words I will say are "I'm red"). She always needs to be in control and was complaining about not having a plan. So cutting my hair was a serious problem for her. Here is our conversation, more or less.

DM: Cut my hair.
K: How short do you want it?
DM: I don't know. Just cut it.
K: But...
DM: Surprise me.
K: I don't know...
DM: Keem. I don't care. Just cut it.
K: Fine.

She takes the clippers and runs it over my head.

K: How's that?
DM (running fingers over head): It needs to be shorter.
K: How short?
DM: I don't know. Just shorter.

God, I love doing that to her. Messing up her little controlled world, it's great. I love using my redness for good and evil.

So, anyway, my hair is extremely short. Maybe a half inch in the back and on the sides and an inch, maybe an inch and a half on the top. I love having short, short hair. It makes life so simple. I wake up. I take a shower. I put some stuff in my hair. I go to work. That's it. Well, I do get dressed first but you get the point.

However, when I get into the elevator, I am wearing shorts, a bright pink tank top and carrying my purse. How the hell do you get sir from that? Before you make a judgement about someone, just based on their hair, look at the whole picture. I will have to do another post based on my boss and some of the comments he had about my hair and why I am going to kill him and not a single jury would convict me (actually, he's a really great guy, we just have an odd relationship, he's the annoying little brother I never wanted).

Anyway, I have to go back to work. I just needed to get that off of my chest. Thank you for time.

Saturday, August 28, 2004

I defend my no kissing for 7 years record

Okay, in response to Beth's comment to Public Displays of Affection:

No, I did not forget about the party. I do remember walking in and having Matt grab me and plant the kiss. So, you are right, technically it has been less than 7 years since I've been kissed.

However, Matt is family. Okay, he is not actually related to me but he is one of the coolest guys in the universe and he's my friend and he is, in my mind, family.

If I thought about it, I'm sure there's been lots of people who I have kissed. I've kissed Kari. I've kissed Eric. I've kissed Josh (but how could you resist him when he's happy?) and he has drooled on me and also smeared me with orange stuff. I've kissed Keem on the forehead when she was sick once (she called me a dork).

What I haven't done is Kissed or Been Kissed. To quote Josie Geller in Never Been Kissed - "That thing, that moment, when you kiss someone and everything around becomes hazy and the only thing in focus is you and this person and you realize that that person is the only person that you're supposed to kiss for the rest of your life, and for one moment you get this amazing gift and you want to laugh and you want to cry because you feel so lucky that you found it and so scared that that it will go away all at the same time. " Sneer all you want at romantic comedies but I do love them.

So, in 7 years, there has not been that big kiss, the kiss that holds all the possibility and joy and excitement of a new relationship, no matter how long or short it lasts. That's what I miss. Even though every single relationship I have ever been in was a stunning failure, I miss that first kiss. And the subsequent kissing that followed, unless, of course, he kissed like a Saint Bernard.

Apparently what I call an internet survey is a meme! Less letters, more fun to say!

The CD meme (from frog and other than my CD picks, this is all in her words)

Here's how it works. You select ten CDs you’d take with you to a desert island. You can take them and no others. The only stipulation is that they must come from your current CD library. Modest anthologies (two, maybe three discs) are permitted, but, say, the dozen plus discs in the complete series of the late Isaac Stern, A Life in Music, would not be.

Further rules state that self-made mixes are not allowed, but tribute albums, soundtracks, etc. are OK.

My picks:
1. Buffy the Vampire Slayer - Once More With Feeling (the musical)
2. Maroon 5 - Songs About Jane
3. Bree Sharp - Cheap and Evil Girl
4. BNL - Greatest Hits
5. Love Actually soundtrack
6. Kohl's Christmas CD that I bought the Christmas I did my theme gifts for the first time
7. Matchbox 20 - Yourself or Someone Like You (I was going to use my last 3 slots for this CD and the next two but then I thought "Hey, if I was trapped on a desert island, Beth would find me and she would bring the follow-up CDs." Because that's the kind of person Beth is)
8. Dido - No Angel
9. 3 Doors Down - The Better Life
10. Vivaldi - The 4 Seasons. On violin, which makes it even cooler.

Via Grace.

And a meme for commenters/readersVia Delany (revised, because I won’t ask you something that I won’t answer myself):

1. name:
2. age:
3. where on earth do you live:
4. what makes you happy:
5. what have you been listening to lately:
6. do you enjoy reading my blog:
7. if so, why:
8. interesting fact about you:
9. are you in love at the moment:
10. favourite destination:
11. favourite quote:
12. will you post this in your blog:

1. a movie:
2. a book:
3. a band, song or album:

And here are my answers to the second meme, just in case you were interested:

1. name: Dana Marie or DM
2. age: 37
3. where on earth do you live: Saint Paul, MN
4. what makes you happy: Books, Movies, Karaoke, My friends
5. what have you been listening to lately: KS95 (radio station here in MN). Too lazy to change CDs.
6. do you enjoy reading my blog: Yes
7. if so, why: You move me to laughter and tears, sometimes in the same post.
8. interesting fact about you: I cry at cat food commercials? I like Latin? I call frogs green duckies? I don't know what's interesting and what's just really bizarre.
9. are you in love at the moment: No.
10. favourite destination: I don't think it matters, as long as I am there with friends.
11. favourite quote: Either "If you reach for the stars, you may not get one but you won't end up with a handful of mud either" - Leo Burnett or "Shut up and kiss me" - Mary Chapin Carpenter
12. will you post this in your blog: Oh, yeah, totally. I am a meme girl!

1. a movie: Depends. Favorite love story: Torch Song Trilogy. Favorite Tear Jerker: Life as a House. Favorite Romantic Comedy: So I Married An Axe Murderer
2. a book: The Giving Tree - Shel Silverstein
3. a band, song or album: Eric Clapton "Change The World"

Previous Comments:

At 2:57 PM, Robert ~ Marlénè said...

(I would never go to a desert island, and if I were on a desert island I'd be too busy trying to get off it to worry about CDs, so the first meme won't do.)


1. name: Robert ~ Marlénè

2. age: 36

3. where on earth do you live: the front bedroom of the second house on the right on my street in the Crocker Highlands neighborhood of Oakland (that's in the north, nowhere near LA), California, United States, North America.

4. what makes you happy: beautiful things and kind people.

5. what have you been listening to lately: my Berlin Cabaret Songs by Ute Lemper is getting a lot of play lately.

6. do you enjoy reading my blog: No, I would rather gouge out my eyes with a rusted tin spork (sarcasm is not my forte, but I couldn't resist).

7. if so, why: It's like hearing my own thoughts in a different place and body... a similarity of experience and of perception that helps me to understand myself better.

8. interesting fact about you: When I was eleven, I had two canine baby teeth removed from the roof of my mouth; incidentally, my father never grew his canine baby teeth.

9. are you in love at the moment: No. Kind of sad, but it leaves so much more time for leisure activities like lying in bed and staring at the ceiling wishing I were dead. (BTW, it's been eight kissless years for me).

10. favourite destination: Victoria, British Columbia. So pretty, so civilized, such a nice journey.

11. favourite quote: "You can't direct the wind, but you can adjust your sails." I don't know who said it.

12. will you post this in your blog: Maybe, maybe not. We shall see.


1. a movie: I really liked Big Fish and would happily recommend it to anyone.

2. a book: I always recommend Mary Renault's The Persian Boy, but actually I think everyone should read Ethan Mordden's How Long Has This Been Going On?

3. a band, song or album: The original Broadway cast album of Thoroughly Modern Millie. I can't find my copy, though

Thursday, August 26, 2004

Public Displays of Affection

This is dedicated to Buddy and Lady B who asked me to hang out in the computer room more and spy on Baby Talk Man's conversations. Since he now seems to be afraid of me, I thought I would tell you a couple stories that you might like. And vant a little. But you know this is the way you like me to be, funny and a little bit scary.

Look, world, may I just say enough already? I'm really happy for those of you that have found true love or even true lust for that matter, but that doesn't mean I want to watch you exchange spit on the sidewalk.

Here are some things that really annoy me when I am in public:

Long tongue kisses in the mall.
Baby talk to anyone who is not a baby. Actually, you know what, I pretty much just hate baby talk.
Your hand shoved down the girl/boy friend's back pocket. Touch his/her ass at home, okay?
Matching outfits.

Here's what I'm okay with:

Hand holding.
The hand is resting on the small of the back or higher. Away from the ass.
A sweet peck on the cheek/lips when parting.
Matching sunglasses.

So, here are the stories:

Crazy Hair Lady and Brown Dude

I used to work for the Dark Side Bank, in the trust department. And, in order to get to work, I would take the bus. I hate taking the bus. It's not that it's a perfectly legitimate form of transportation, it's just that I don't like people all that much and, on the bus, you are surrounded with them. Hordes of unwashed, desperate masses of people. Yuck. So I would busy myself with a book because that seemed to discourage people from striking up a conversation with me (Ah. She is reading. She is obviously an intellectual who will mock our puny brains (Yep. The intellectual who reads romance novels. Don't mess with me, unwashed person)).

This did not stop me from people watching (I still like to do this. I carry a small notebook around with me now in case something interesting strikes me about the person that I want to implement into a character or blog about). There was this couple that rode the bus. One of the reasons why I am not a rich and famous author is because I am horrible at descriptions. Can't do them justice. Dialogue, I can handle. Anyway, I will try to describe these people for you and hope you can understand the horror that awaited me daily on the bus.

Her: Long, flowered skirts. Long, flowered sweaters. Crazy, swirly hair exploding out of her head, some sort of brown color intershot with gray. It was wiry and looked to have the texture of a brillo pad. I can't fault her for being a large person because I am one myself but she had absolutely no taste in clothing. None. And she smelled funny. Her sweaters had long gray hair and cat hair scattered all over them.

Him: Brown. Brown hair. Brown turtleneck. Brown corduroy pants. Brown shoes. Also a large person. Wore his turtleneck tucked into his pants. If you ever saw Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, imagine Violet but dressed in brown. Seriously. He was that round. He had greasy hair that was limp and hung flatly in his eyes, well, actually in his glasses. Did I mention that they both wore glasses?

So anyway, they would get on the bus. He would sit on the right side of the bus, next to the window. She would sit next to him. Then they would start making out. Okay, slight exaggeration. What would actually happen is that he would sit down, swivel in the seat and hold out his arms to her. She would slide into the seat and they would embrace, she would end up resting her head on his shoulder and then they would occasionally kiss. There was tongue involved at times. This happened every day.

I don't know why it took me so long to figure out that they worked in my building but one day, a month after I talked a friend into picking me up in the morning so there was no more damn bus!, I was on the elevator and they get on. Oh, Lord. The elevator is fairly full so they are standing less than two inches away from me. Have I ever mentioned that I'm claustrophobic and having a lot of people on the elevator makes me really nervous? Well, it does. So I'm freaked out because all these people are crowding me and also, Brown Dude's hair is getting really close to my face. Eew!

Anyway, the elevator stops, he starts to leave and a few other people start walking out as well. But then everything is brought to screeching halt when Brown Dude realizes that he hasn't kissed Crazy Hair Lady goodbye! Oh, the horror! He quickly turns and grabs her as though he is going off to war and they will never see each other again. There is the kissing and the smacking of lips and some tongue. This is 30 seconds of my life that I will never get back. This is 30 seconds that is branded into my brain. This is 30 seconds too many!

Breakfast Links Are Not Sexy:

Talking to Lady B and Beth about Baby Talk Man set us off on the topic of couples who sit next to each other at the booth instead of across from each other and how annoying that is. I was reminded of the time I, well, had less than stellar taste in men and, long story short, started the weekend with one guy and ended up with another. Anyway, the second guy (and this was a long time ago so I really don't remember his name - John? Steve? Ringo? Probably not Ringo, I think I would remember that) had come to my rescue when the first guy took off with my paycheck and left me at a bar and never came back. 2nd guy took me someplace (Perkins? Embers?) to eat and I was so cold and pissed off that I started shaking. 2nd guy came over and put his arm around me to help calm me down. This was kind of nice. What became a little irritating was when, after I stopped shaking and our food had arrived, he started feeding me my breakfast. I really wanted to slap his hand and say "Thank you, but I can eat the sausage all on my own."

I mean, seriously, dude, what subliminal message are you sending here? On the one hand, it's sausage and ooh, you have a sausage of your own, how very hot is that. On the other hand, it's breakfast links and that's not putting any He-man images in my head, I tell you what.

"Hi. My name is Dana and I'm a loseraholic. It's been 7 years since my last loser (or kiss, for that matter. I really miss kissing. Losers? Not so much)." "Hi, Dana!"

Baby Talk Man Returns!

Today being Friday and therefore my day off, I decided to do something fun and exciting. Going to work for overtime. The exciting part is that I only work from 10-2 and Keem works from 7:30 to 4. So that is 4 1/2 hours that I get to blog and surf the internet! 4 1/2 hours! My life could not get anymore exciting! Or fun!

Oh, yes, it could because here comes BTM and he is heading for the phone. "Hi, Sweetie, I wanted to call and tell you I made it to work okay because I know you were worried about me. So I am here and I love you and I have to go to work and I know you have to get ready for work."

Now, the burning question I want to ask is "Dude, where the hell do you live? Do you live in The Tundra? Were you chased by wolves this morning? Is there an evil genius after you with his robotic killing arm?" Because, honestly, is there any reason to call someone when you get to work when it's a fairly nice day in Minnesota? Are there any killer bees reports lately? Maybe I'm missing the obvious terror of commuting since I don't drive.

And then tonight, when I am waiting for Keem to finish working, here he is again. "Hi, it's Baby Talk Man. I wanted to let you know that I won't be home right away from work because we need some milk and I am going to stop and get some. And I love you." At first I was surprised because there wasn't the whole annoying falsetto voice he uses when he's talking to her. And then I realized he was leaving a message.

You call her when you get to work. You call her when you leave work. Baby Talk Man, either you are totally whipped or she is the most insecure woman on the planet. Please, for the love of God, shut up already.

But maybe I'm just bitter because of the no kissing for seven years thing.

Previous Comments:
At 2:40 AM, brooksba said...

Ah Dana, I love this! Thank you for sharing these stories. Even though I heard them at work, I loved reading them at home. About the kissing thing, I have a picture of you locking lips from not too long ago. It's right next to my computer. Remember? And no, we don't need to rehash that entire party. Maybe that's why you didn't mention it. Your kiss was the highlight. Except for, "Oh my God! Oh my God! You slept with Stacy!!!"

Maybe Buddy and Lady B will remember that.

Today is not a good day - Update in italics

Today I had a fight with a friend in the elevator before work started. And we had a fight in the car as well. But we have cleared the air and everything is okay.

My boss insulted my haircut and told me the only reason bankers may have complimented it is because they are scared of me. When I told one of my bankers the reason why he complimented my hair was because he was afraid of me, he laughed and said "You wish" and that he did like my hair and I was too nice to frighten anyone.

I forgot to completely log out of my computer yesterday and found out that my boss, as a joke, sent an email to himself. It said that I hated him and wanted to quit unless he read me Laffy Taffy jokes (which was pretty funny since he knows I hate Laffy Taffy jokes). Then he told me he had read an email I had written back and forth with a friend in which I said I was thinking about applying for another job. He still hasn't said anything about the job. He has continued to tell me Laffy Taffy jokes.

Oh, and to make it all better, Baby Talk Man just walked into the computer room. Lady B (Not Beth, someone else we work with. This is my code name for her) told me she thinks he overheard someone talking about how annoying he can be and that's probably why he didn't conduct his conversation in his high-pitched falsetto voice. Or my screaming at the computer might have scared him...

My God, shoot me now. It's only 11. At 1:30, management had an appreciation lunch for myself and other people in my position. It was nice. My bankers made posters and a mobile for me about how much they like me. Even though I knew about the "big surprise" ahead of time, it was sweet to read everything my bankers said about me. Mike (my boss) told everyone in the room condensed versions of the Fish Hook Saga and why my blog is called Green Duckies. There was laughter and nice words and I cried.

It's now 6 PM and I'm doing okay. Thanks to Angi and Firebear for your kind words. It makes the day better knowing that people care. And to Jacqui as well for her email! This is actually a pretty good day after all.

Previous Comments:
At 2:28 PM, Firebear said...

Come work with us! I have an empty cube in my island! Of course that morning drive to Lansing Michigan everyday may get rough. You could always listen to books on tape! Thats how i survive!

At 4:17 PM, angelia said...

Dana, sounds like you have had a rough day. I can sympathize. I hope it gets better...if not, when you get home put your mattress against the wall and beat the crap out of it. That works for me!

At 3:00 AM, brooksba said...


I'm sorry the day started off so badly. I'm glad that you were able to find some positive aspects and turn it into a good day. I guess that training we had is right. Choose your attitude. Don't let the bad get you down, otherwise everything will just be bad. Grab something great and hold on with both hands. Why go around miserable? It's no fun. Love you lots. I'll see you later! I know you're working overtime and I'll try to call before 2. =)

I hope you're working overtime. If you're not, please email me or call my cell. It's in the living room and you won't wake me up.


Wednesday, August 25, 2004

Why I love Que Sera Sera (song and website)

This is one of the reasons why I love the website. I have strong feelings about the use of carpe diem as well. And this, well, it's just wrong.

As for the song, well, I've always liked Doris Day. No, that's not the real reason.

So Beth and I used to go to this bar in downtown Saint Paul on Tuesdays, called Wild Tymes, because Bryan was the host at karaoke. And there was a guy that would hang out there as well, who was named Andy. Andy was tall and blondish and had interesting features and floppy hair and a good swimmer's build. I thought he was, well, godlike is the first word that comes to mind.

He would sing "A Ring of Fire" by Johnny Cash. He would also, completely sober and straight faced, sing "Que Sera Sera" by Doris Day. Standing up in front of a bunch of drunk people and singing a song about when you were a little girl takes guts. I think I fell a little bit in love with him right then and there.

One night, after he had finished singing and we, karaoke junkies that we are, were whooping and hooting and hollering and applauding, Bryan made a comment about "Yeah, you suck." Or something like that. Andy, who had just taken a swig of his beer, looked at Bryan and, from between his two front teeth, shot a stream of beer at Bryan. It was hot. Okay, you probably had to be there.

We stopped going to Wild Tymes because our call center moved away from Saint Paul so it was too difficult to get there (Beth works nights). We started going to The Chalet on Sundays. And, one night, about a month ago, Andy was there. I hadn't seen him in months and he was just as cute as I remembered. It was his last night in Minnesota, he was moving to New York the next morning.

At the end of the night, Bryan asked if anyone had a story to tell about Andy. I told the story of the beer, which they remembered. After sitting back down, I turned to Beth and said "Yeah, what I didn't mention was when I turned to you and said 'My God, I have never been so turned on in my life.'" She decided I had to tell Bryan that who decided I needed to mention it to Andy.

If my life was a movie, it would be at this moment where he grabbed me and gave me the most exciting kiss of my life and we would make mad, passionate love in the rain and we would leave each other a little bit sadder but wiser and happier for the knowing of each other. Oh, and I would look more like Marisa Tomei and less like Roseanne.

But my life is not a movie. My life isn't even a really good sitcom.

Tuesday, August 24, 2004

Same thing

From: Dana M.
Sent: Sunday, August 22, 2004 12:28 PM
To: Kimberly M. (Keem)
Subject: Tonight

When we are at Super America, remind me to pick up a Ben Gay patch or a Thermo Guard patch thing. My shoulder is killing me to the point that I just want to ask you to cut off my arm. Except that wouldn't help. Because it's my shoulder that hurts.

From: Kimberly M.
Sent: Sunday, August 22, 2004 12:33 PM
To: Dana M.
Subject: RE: Tonight

Super America? Do they carry those?

You should look at the harriet carter catalog. I have it with me and they have this brace thing that works for shoulders. It might help too. It's like a 7-in-1 thingy for $20.00 I think.

From: Dana M.
Sent: Sunday, August 22, 2004 12:36 PM
To: Kimberly M.
Subject: RE: Tonight

Super Target. Super America. Same thing.

From: Kimberly M.
Sent: Sunday, August 22, 2004 12:39 PM
To: Dana M.
RE: Tonight

Super Target = Great thing that I am aiming at and trying to hit; A super-sized version of a Target store.

Super America = The United States is great; A convenience store chain in Minnesota.

No, not the same. Not really. However, they are both stores. They do have that in common. :P

And tonight, while we are watching the commercial for Hallmark and they show the Barbie stuff (but Barbie from the 40's when she was cool), and I ask Keem again if we can go, I say "Can we please go to Wal-mart?" She gives me the look. I give one back, the you know what I mean look.

"Wal-mart, Hallmark. Same thing," I tell her.

Is this better, Angi?

Previous Comments:
At 5:55 PM, angelia said...

Hey! Not Fair! I can't read red

At 8:13 PM, Anonymous said...


Five women who need to write books. Now!

For the last few weeks, I have been dedicating my spare (and not so spare) time to reading the archives at Que Sera Sera. She is funny and sad and smart and sarcastic and pretty gosh darn great all mixed up into one.

I get obsessed, I know. I was the same with One Good Thing and Frog's Blog and Finslippy and Dooce. I can't help it. In fact, if my life was perfect, I would snap my finger and everything that these amazing women have ever written would appear, in book form, right in front of me. Because, yes, the internet is great and all, but it's not mine. I can't put it into my purse and carry it with me. I can't lend it to my friends and tell them it's the best internet ever and they have to read it. If I'm stuck waiting in line or, God forbid, an elevator, I can't amuse myself by reading something they've written and laughing quietly to myself (oh, who am I kidding? I snort). And, if my computer thwarts me, like it is known to do, somedays I am deprived. And I hate that.

So if the five of you would just work with me on the whole book thing, I would be a much happier person. Honestly, I don't care if you just take everything you've written on the internet and print it off and bind it, I would pay for that. I don't care. Just, you know, if you could autograph it for me, that'd be really cool.

I'm serious. Really. I relate so much better to books. And I could collect everything you wrote (I'm working on owning every book by Mil Millington and Nora Roberts). And you could have your own bookshelf when I own my mansion. Okay?

Monday, August 23, 2004

Trapped in an attic in Madison

After we decided to move and rented the house from Dante, he told us we could feel free to start bringing up stuff and leave it in the house. We decided to take advantage of this one weekend and made a trip up. The tenant at the time was still living there, so he was happy to let us in and make us at home, that meaning that he was more than willing to share his pot with us. Barb and I made a trip up to the local convenience store, across the street from the Crystal Corner, to get an apple. I'm not sure why but apparently we were going to use the apple as a bong (Yes, at one time I did drugs. I'm not proud of it).

Standing in the store, Barb makes the purchase and gets into a conversation with the man who is approximately 500 years old.

500 year old man: An apple, huh? I can't eat apples because I don't have any teeth (He smiles to demonstrate the veracity of his statement). I eat steaks, though.
Barb: You do? How can you eat steak if you don't have teeth?
500 year old man: I gum them!

May I just say "Eew?"

After partaking in the pot-enhanced apple, the decision was made to watch a movie. An Andrew Dice Clay video was watched briefly and then, an Evil Dead movie was decided on. I do not like scary movies. I decided to go to the 2nd floor and sit on the stairs and read, well near my friends in case scary monsters break into the house on the 2nd floor and I need their protection but far enough away that if the monsters crash on the 1st floor, I can escape.

About twenty minutes later, Rex wanders upstairs. "Let's explore," he says. We wander around the house, deciding where we're going to put things. We go to the 3rd floor and he talks about what he wants to do with his bedroom. The one bedroom in the entire house that has a door on it. Without thinking about it, he pulls it shut behind us.

Thunk. The doorknob falls off and rolls across the room. I am now trapped in a room with Rex, a man with whom there is still a little tension because of the whole sex thing, and there is a scary movie playing downstairs. I am officially freaked out. Rex and I take turns yelling through the vent, no one hears us. After a few minutes, we give up, I return to my book. About an hour later, I hear Barb saying to Katie "Have you seen Dana and Rex? Where are they?" We call for help again. There is much laughter and innuendo about what we were doing. I simply said "Eh. I've already done him" and walked out of the room. Classy? No. Did it make me feel better? Yes.

The next morning, the tenant, I want to call him Sam, heads off for work. About 30 minutes later, he is back.

"That was quick," one of us says to him.

"Yeah. I was cutting through the alley and found a dead body." Perhaps this could have been taken as a sign. It was ignored. Silly, silly us.

Previous Comments:

At 5:58 PM, angelia said...
I watched someone drop dead in the parking lot of SA when I was visiting my friend who was working.... Hmmmm, I haven't pondered that experience for awhile

Conversations about Cheese

I read a post that Angi wrote recently. In it, she mentioned a chef making a comment about a particular cheese not having the character and personality of sharp cheddar. She was amused by it and I commented about the fact that if sharp cheddar had a character and personality, it was a bully.

On Sunday, Katie, Keem and I went to see Ella Enchanted at The Plaza. While we were waiting, Katie mentioned she was addicted to Angi's blog and I brought up the cheese post and my feelings about sharp cheddar. This was the resulting conversation:

Keem: I don't think sharp cheddar is a bully. I think Limburger is the bully.
Katie: Because of the smell?
Keem: Yes. It uses the smell to its advantage and pushes the other cheeses around.
DM: I don't think Limburger is a bully. I think Limburger is the fat kid of cheese. That nobody likes.
Keem: The Pig Pen of cheese?
DM: Yes. And I think it's very sad. Because none of the other cheeses will play with it.
Katie: Is Swiss cheese poor?
DM: No. Swiss cheese is rich and snooty.
Keem: No, it's not. Brie is rich and snooty.
DM: Okay. And Gorgonzola is cousins with Blue and Roquefort cheese. But it has more money so it changed it's name and lives in a better neighborhood. I am so writing this down.

But then the movie started and I don't know what we would have decided about Mozzarella. Perhaps Mozzarella slaves away for her evil step-cheese and then her fairy godmother cheese comes along and helps her to marry Prince Camembert?

Previous Comments:

At 5:58 PM, angelia said...
I think Mozzerella would be the diva of cheeses. Seriously, she is the most sought after cheese there is. At over four dollars a pound (according to the pizza joint's food cost), and the fact that she is requested on most pizza's I would think that she has it all. Fame, fortune, people lusting after her, definately a diva

At 6:11 PM, Donkey said...
my blog =

At 8:29 PM, CarpeDM said...
Wow, Donkey, that was really a well written comment about cheese. I'm impressed.

Sunday, August 22, 2004

This is dedicated to the one I love

Today is my mother's birthday. She is expecting of a mushy birthday card and will receive one, however, since I bought it today and she lives in Arizona, she will not receive it as quickly as she would like. However, being the dutiful daughter that I am, I am going to write my ode to Mom, although not poetry so I'm not sure if it's technically an ode anymore. Perhaps it is a saga. But saga to Mom just sounds stupid.

Okay, anyway. How about Letter to Mom?

Dear Mom,

Today is your birthday (Do not worry, I will not tell my vast group of followers how old you actually are. I do not want to be disowned). Happy birthday to you. Today I thought I would mention some of the things I remember about you that fill me with joy, in the hopes that they will fill you with joy as well. The links are stories about you that I have already posted, just in case you have never read them.

Thank you for being strong enough to leave Dad and for raising Kari and I in a time and town where there weren't a lot of single mothers. You rarely ever said a bad word about him, even though we knew he didn't pay child support, which I appreciate because it made it possible for me to love my father and still recognize his shortcomings all on my own.

Thank you for helping me come up with my screen name. I'm pretty fond of CarpeDM.

Thank for not laughing hysterically when I came to you with a fish hook caught in my lip.

Thank you for teaching me how to read. I don't know what I would do with myself if I didn't have the power of reading to get me through Life and all of it's oddness.

Thank you for attempting to teach me how to drive.

Thank you for getting me out of an extremely bad living situation and buying me a mattress.

Thank you for still loving me even though I was a rebellious little teenage punk who probably made your life hell. I am sorry I threw a vaccum cleaner at you. And also for loving me when I am a rebellious adult.

Thank you for telling me that I would much rather enjoy working for a large corporation than fast food 353 times. It took 15 years but it finally sunk in.

I love you. Happy birthday. Thank you for putting up with me.

Dana Marie

Previous Comments:
At 5:42 PM, Carolinaiiiii said...
Hey, thanks Dana for the Birthday Blog! I had a really nice birthday, talking long distance to you, Kari, and Josh. Well, Josh, just says AH! Then I went to a very nice church service at Assembly of God here on the White Mountains. Then not so funny I went to our local Dairy Queen to pick up the sheet cake I had ordered for our Park's Ice Cream Social, and they WEREN'T OPEN! After trying to get the owner on the phone to get someone to open up and give me the ice cream cake I had looked forward to, I did some quick thinking and went to the Safeway Grocery Store and grabbed ice cream and cake and got to the Social just in time to dish it out. Why do I volunteer for these kind of things? Something always goes haywire! After the dessert, we played horseracing. You use masting tape to make several squares for each horse, and then you bet 2 dimes on 2 horses of your choice of 6. Then the dice start flying, one marked dice is the number of the horse and the other the squares it is to move. Everyone gets so excited over the 10 races, even though the money is not going to make us rich or poor. The last race is for 25 cents and you can only bet on 1 horse. I came out about $1 ahead; probably the highest winnings was closer to $3.

Well got to go; maybe my mushy card will come today, huh Dana! Love, Mom

I like Sarah Brown a whole bunch. Here's one reason why. Read this first. Then you'll understand why I wrote this:

So my first kiss was when I was 15. My church teen group had got together and we were going on a retreat somewhere up north (hey, it was 22 years ago. Give me a break). There was this extremely smooth, sweet youth counselor who I had a tremendous crush on. Can't remember his name. I would call him Malcolm but that, as we now know, is no longer an acceptable name. Okay, we will try Keegan.

Anyway, on the way back, John, the pastor in charge of the trip suddenly stopped talking to me. I asked him what I had done, no answer. Why aren't you talking to me? What can I do to get you to talk to me again? He smiles, wickedly. "Go kiss Keegan."

I turn bright red. I am a plump, dorky teenager, he is a suave, ever so cute older man (maybe 17? 19? Who knows?). There is no way I can do this. This was, of course, before I embraced my inner vixen and did whatever the heck I felt like.

John and my supposed friend Linda start chanting "Kiss him. Kiss him."

The entire bus starts up with the chanting. I have two choices. I can refuse to kiss Keegan and constantly be ridiculed for not doing so. Or I can kiss him and constantly be ridiculed for doing so...but at least I would have got the chance to kiss him.

I (mentally) gird my loins, whirl around and press my lips to Keegan. I remember that it was sweet and innocent and tasted vaguely of oranges (this might be because of the orange crush he was drinking at the time). He lightly pressed his hand to the back of my head to extend the kiss just a second or two longer. I'm pretty sure he was doing it for my benefit, not his. This would make me seem just one iota cooler.

I remember drawing back and seeing his smile. Then I sat back down in my seat on the bus. John is laughing. Linda is looking at me in awe. No one had believed that I would ever do anything of the sort. The entire bus starts cheering. It was weird and empowering and embarrasing and great all at the same time. Ah, sweet mystery of peer pressure.

I never saw Keegan again after that. About a month later, I met a really great guy named Dean who told me he loved me and that worked out ever so well. Why, yes, that is sarcasm. How did you guess? I wrote a pretty depressing poem about the whole experience. Let's just put it this way - losing your virginity in a laundry room is not the fun-filled, exciting joy ride you would think it would be.

Previous Comments:
At 12:03 AM, The Lioness said...
"Let's just put it this way - losing your virginity in a laundry room is not the fun-filled, exciting joy ride you would think it would be."

See, this is the problem I have with you. You write about sad stuff in a funny way. So I know this isn't a laughing matter but I still chuckled. Stop this insanity right this minute!

Another old email

I love magnets and key chains. Okay? You can laugh at me all you want but I think they are fun. So when I found the key chain of the little refrigerator with 75 tiny pieces of magnetic poetry, well, I was in heaven. Because it was combining my two loves. And every day at work, for a week, I would make up new poems. They got old fast though because it was a really tiny refrigerator and 75 words are not that many.

-----Original Message-----
From: Dana M.
Sent: Friday, July 27, 2001 8:36 PM
To: Beth; Adam; Lila
Subject: Magnetic Poetry - I so need a life

Day 1
You are a dream.
A pool of sweet water.
I smell rain and am happy.
Storm good,
my lovely friend.

Day 2
I play in the road.
Big puppy of love, he go(e) s to (the) pound
at daylight.

Day 3
Pound head on road.
Good sweet love is stormy.
No rose flower for you.

Day 4
I am water.
You are milk.
Why (do) we play at love?
Head all dreamy for he.

Day 5
Car go fast on road.
Get big puppy of love spring water.
No money for you or me.
The big puppy of love is back. I think he's going to be a reoccurring theme because I like him.

Day 6
Head pounding.
Light no good.
Go to bed.
Dream of storms.

Day 7
Big puppy of love
likes hair spray.
He smell sweet as flower.

A very old email or Proof that I have always been a little weird

-----Original Message-----
From: Dana M.
Sent: Friday, November 03, 2000 10:21 AM
To: Another person
Subject: RE:
Cool. So I guess it's my turn to have a bad day. This is what has happened to me so far today.
1) Dana wakes up because she really needs to go to the bathroom. She looks at the clock. The clock says 7:35. Dana panics because her alarm is set for 6:21 but didn't go off this morning. Oh, no. Dana takes the world's quickest shower, does her hair & makeup & sets off for the day.
2) Dana forgets her jacket in the apartment. My, it's chilly. But that's okay, she'll persevere. She's tough. What's a little cold air to a Minnesota resident of 33 years.
3) Dana walks up the hill to catch her bus & sees it turn the corner & go on it's merry way. Dana now has to walk two blocks (from the frontage road) to 3rd street so she can catch another bus.
4) Dana arrives at work with 10 minutes to spare. She grabs her breakfast & decides to visit the bathroom because she has a visitor that is really beginning to wear out it's welcome (subtle, huh?). She grabs the item she needs & tucks it inside her skirt so she doesn't need to walk through the phonebank broadcasting to everyone that it's that time of the month. She walks about twenty feet when she feels the pad slithering it's way down her skirt where it lands at her feet. Discreetly wrapped in it's lovely pink plastic film but still, highly obvious as to what it is.
5) Dana takes 4 calls this morning so far. They have all sucked & involved having to call the help desk, except for one. In fact, Dana is on hold with ATM cards right now because of a sucky call.
6) Dana decides that she can't take the stress anymore, and grabbing an ak-47 (which is her right as an American, according to Charlton Heston & the NRA), she brutally guns down all of her co-workers until the police come & drag her away.

Oh, wait, I guess this 6th item hasn't happened yet. And you thought losing your keys was bad. HAH! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!! (Insane laughter)

Previous Comments:
At 6:39 PM, angelia said...
Hmmmm, an ak 47 eh? Well, if that is what does it for you. I personally prefer to use my oh..I don't know, reaching down someone's throat and ripping out their intestines and hanging him/her by them.

Saturday, August 21, 2004

In which Keem and Dana speak of blueberries

Driving home from the movie:

DM: Ooh, there is Culver's. What is the flavor of the day? Blueberry Crisp. Mmm.
K: That does sound kind of good.
DM: Keem, let's go.
K: No. I have to go to the bathroom.
DM: Culver's has a bathroom.
K: They are too busy.
DM: No. No, they're not. There was only one car in the drive through.
K: No, let's go home.
DM: But Keem!
K: I am being good.
DM: Screw being good!
K: Too late (as we drive by the exit)!
DM: But Keem! The blueberries are haunting me!
K: What?
DM: There were blueberry Icees at the theater. And now Blueberry Crisp! They want me to eat them!
K: No, they don't. They are just teasing you.

Damn those blueberries.

Previous Comments:
At 5:54 PM, angelia said...
um...what is blueberry crisp?

At 8:48 PM, CarpeDM said...
Blueberry Crisp Custard. So it is custard (Yummy). With blueberries and crisp.

Like apple crisp. Only blue. Without apples.

Friday, August 20, 2004

I need a dream lover so I don't have to dream alone

Last night I finished Dear Mr. Right by Eileen Dewhurst. I picked it up at the library and it was a good book, well written and set in England (so 10 points for it right there). There was a woman who was murdered and an innocent man framed for her murder. There was true love and Good kicked Evil's ass. As Good should always do.

But the one thing that truly disturbed me about the whole thing? I can never use the name Malcolm again to epitomize all of the hopes and dreams of a terminally single 37 year old woman can have of finding Mr. Right. Of course, I can't tell you why because that would give away the ending of the instead, I will tell you what my dream lover is like and perhaps you can help me come up with the perfect name for him. Now that Malcolm has been ruined for me.

My Mr. Right will have an odd sense of humor that I will get but others might not. He will like to read and watch movies. He will understand that sometimes I just don't want to talk to anyone. He will cook and clean and understand that I hate to do both and will not expect me to do so (or he'll be rich enough so that I can have that ultimate of luxuries, a staff). He is artistic and sensitive and loves my friends. And they love him. He will wear suits that are tailored to fit him. He will strut. He will be articulate. He may speak with an accent (preferably British). He will be bookish and charming. He will sing to me and occasionally dance in fountains. He will want to make love in the rain. He will be playful and fun and make me laugh. He will like movies with martial arts and car chases and buddy cops and will also appreciate romantic comedies and musicals.

He may or may not be Black. If he is, he may look like Lenny Kravitz, Delroy Lindo, Gary Dourdon (from CSI), Will Smith, Alonzo Bodden or Will Smith.

He may or may not be White. If he is, he might look like Jason Statham or Jeremy Piven. He might look like William Petersen (from CSI. I love that show) or Colin Firth or Rowan Atkinson. He might look like Seth Green.

He may or may not be Hispanic. If he is, he will look like Antonio Banderas. Or he will look like Danny Trejo.

He may or may not be Asian. If he is, he looks like John Cho (who finally has been in a movie that proves to me that he would be a good kisser, thank you makers of Harold and Kumar). He may look like Jet Li. Or he could look like Chow Yun-Fat. Or Jackie Chan for that matter.

I am an equal opportunity dreamer. Any suggestions for a good name? I'm thinking maybe Keegan. It means fiery.

Apartment Searching in Madison

So Rex, Barb, Katie and I pile into a car and drive to Madison one day. It's about 4 hours from the Twin Cities and it was a fun ride. We were making plans and laughing and singing along to the radio. When we got there, we found a newspaper with a list of apartments and homes for rent. I remember sitting there in the sunlight, taking in the fresh air and all the sights and sounds around me. For those of you who have never been to Madison, it is a smaller city, a college town and a capitol city. It was like all of the best parts of Minneapolis and Saint Paul had been placed in one area.

We had no idea what we were looking for. Did we want an apartment or a house? We figured we'd just look at different places until we found the perfect place. Rex was excited about a listing for four bedroom apartments. I found a listing for a house for rent.

4-5 bedrooms, three story, two bathrooms, two kitchens, balcony, porch. $750 a month.

Oh my God. This was perfect. As I was reading the listing a second time, a Monarch Butterfly gracefully flew up, landed on the newspaper on the listing, flew up again and circled me 3 times. It was obviously a sign! But Rex, who was a manly man and not given to consulting obvious signs, was insistent that we check out the apartments he had picked out. We would look at the house if the apartments didn't pan out.

Now Madison is a college town. These apartments were on campus. This translates to "little tiny holes that we can charge a fortune for." The first apartment was dark, dismal and damp - all for the bargain price of $950 a month (which now sounds like the best bargain for a four bedroom apartment but in 1990 was outrageous). The second apartment was slightly bigger but I was still claustrophobic in it. I'm not sure I can describe this very well but I'll try. When you entered the apartment, you took two steps and there was a wall. The wall was exactly one inch away from where the door opened out fully. In order to move through out the apartment, you had to stand in a tiny spot and shut the door. If you have multiple people coming into the apartment, you stand and shut multiple times. Not worth it, especially not at $1050 a month. The third apartment? Oh, it was so much better (sarcasm). It's one redeeming feature was the black and white tile in the kitchen. And for $1150 a month, it could be ours!

Defeated, we wander back to the car. I say "Can we go look at the house now?" Bow to my wisdom, you tall, gangly Liar man, you (Believe me when I say that Rex is not just a liar because of our one night together when he asked for my phone number and never called me. Never. I always wanted to ask him "Dude. I already slept with you. What was the point in pretending that we were going to have this great romantic relationship. Why couldn't you have ended it with a 'Hey, thanks for putting out' or something like that? Why'd you have to lie?" There is much more that happened that I will tell you about in due time. Let's just say calling him Liar man is a prelude to many more lies to come)!

Rex, still in his manly man phase, makes the phone call to the owner of the house. We get directions and head over there to meet him. The house welcomes us with a glorious welcoming sort of feeling, well, it welcomed me. I don't know about anyone else. We sit down on the steps and wait. Soon I hear Rex say "Do you think that is him?" Katie says "I don't know but oh my God, he is hot." Barb and I look quickly up. Yes, there he is, maybe an inch or two taller than me (still short but built), dark hair, dark eyes...mmm, pretty.

We meet, we talk, we tour the house. It is perfect. Dante, the hot landlord, informs us that he used to rent it out in units but decided to try renting out the entire house. We ask for some time to make a decision. He suggests we go and check out the Crystal Corner and he would be back shortly. It was (and still is, apparently) a blues bar and very cool. We decide we want to stay in the house.

It was going to be so great, staying there. Rent would be, divided by 4 people, only $190. How could anything ever go wrong?

If you haven't figured it out yet, something went wrong. More later.

My Career Test (because I had to copy Beth)

Extroverted (E) 60.53% Introverted (I) 39.47%
Imaginative (N) 81.82% Realistic (S) 18.18%
Emotional (F) 84.38% Intellectual (T) 15.63%
Easygoing (P) 87.1% Organized (J) 12.9%
Your type is: ENFP
You are an Inspirer, possible professions include - conference planner, speech pathologist, HR development trainer, ombudsman, clergy, journalist, newscaster, career counselor, housing director, character actor, marketing consultant, musician/composer, artist, information-graphics designer, human resource manager, merchandise planner, advertising account manager, dietitian/nutritionist, speech pathologist, massage therapist, editor/art director.
Take Free Career Inventory Personality Test
personality tests by

Hmm, makes you wonder why I work in the banking industry. And what the heck is an ombudsman? And why does the song "Soul Man" keep going through my head now?

Wednesday, August 18, 2004

Book Vant

Okay. I am an avid reader. I have to be reading all the time. When my mother wouldn't let me bring books to the table as a child, I would amuse myself by reading the ingrediants on the box of cereal. Yes, I was that desperate. If a complete stranger is reading a book, I will walk up to them and ask what they are reading, do they like it, have they read anything else by the author? This doesn't always work, there have been a few books that I've read because of reccomendations and they just didn't meet my criteria. However, I discovered Stuart Woods that way. Palindrome was the first one I read by him and I loved it.

So, obviously, because I like to read so much and I read quickly, I buy a lot of books from garage sales or thrift shops. Usually all I do is read the back blurb and decide if the book sounds interesting. I do this because, unfortunately, my favorite authors do not write fast enough for me (Why yes, Nora Roberts and Mil Millington, I am talking about you. Get cracking!) and I have already re-read each of the books I own by them many, many times.

I picked up a book yesterday. It was a romance novel I picked up at a garage sale for 25 cents. And I am here to tell you that 25 cents was too much to pay for this.

There is something I do when reading romance novels that baffles most people. I don't read the sex scenes. This is because I don't read romance novels for sex. If I wanted sex, I could find it somewhere. And sex is not something that is missing, or ever has been, in my life. If I wanted to read about sex, I will go to a Sex Shop and purchase Letters to Penthouse or something like that.

I, shockingly enough, read romance novels for the romance. That is what I am deprived of, what makes my heart ache in the middle of the night, what makes me go "Ohhh" when David Duchovny says to Julianne Moore "What are you talking about? You already do" after she says to him "I would have rocked your world" in Evolution. I love fairy tales and happy endings and love at first sight. I am a hopeless romantic. I looooove Love. And believe me when I say I am definitely not getting any.

This book that I picked up yesterday? I skipped all of the sex scenes. How much do you think I actually read of it? 10 pages.

Yeah, that's right. 10 pages. 10 pages of some of the worst writing I have ever read. No character development, no plot development, all it had was sex, sex, sex. The most romantic thing this guy did for her? I don't know. Because every thing they did was have sex. That's it. And somehow they went from complete strangers to "Oh, let's get married, I want to spend the rest of my life with you" in 10 pages.

This is why I read Nora Roberts. Her characters are well developed, her plots are feasible (even the one about the time travel. It could happen) and her sex scenes don't take up the entire book, are well written and not graphic.

This is why I read Mil Millington. His characters are well developed and even odder than I. His plots are absurd and hilarious and his sex scenes are imbued with the ridiculous.

Sigh. Oh, well, Ella Enchanted comes out next week. I can hold out until then.

Previous comments:

At 8:50 PM, angelia said...

It's always a risk buying romance novels...sorry to hear about your unfortunate book. I hate it when that happens....:)

At 3:21 PM, Robert ~ Marlénè said...

I used to read cereal boxes, too... actually, I still do... I'll even read junk mail at the table if there's nothing else.

I had to stop reading romance novels some years ago; an English Lit degree ruins one's ability to take in half-assed writing; I also got to the point where I no longer believe in Romance... and it seemed to me that the "romance" in most of the romance novels I read had more to do with settings and circumstances than with behavior. Of course, I usually read historical romances, because the settings were more interesting to me, but it seemed that there were only two or three plots endlessly embroidered with different names and a couple of variations in character: the wilful spitfire girl who is misunderstood and shall be forced to marry someone she doesn't love; the big strong silent man who either rescues her from the loveless marriage or is the loveless marriage or kidnaps her before she can get married (and if the latter two, she will fall in love with him almost immediately but won't want to admit it because of her pride); there will be a villain or two trying to keep them apart or take one of them away from the other, and in historical romances there is always a kidnapping from which the heroine is saved by the hero (sometimes the girl gets kidnapped several times by different people); the sex scenes are usually barely disguised rapes which the heroine shamefully enjoys, and some bondage or punishment comes into play somewhere, always resulting in an orgasm or four on the woman's part; the novel usually ends when the heroine has a child, and then they all live Happily Ever After.

Blech. Maybe it's one of my few guy-things (like having to have the remote and refusing to ask for directions), but if that's Romance, I say no thank you.

Anyway, I found that mystery novels tend, on the whole, to be better-written, so I switched over to that genre some time ago.

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

I move to Madison (Actually, I decide to move to Madison. The moving part comes later).

I have no concept of time. I can tell you that this following story took place after I worked at Major's (short for Major Department Store) and before I worked for NABABNA. I believe that this was back in 1991 but I'm not positive. This is what I do know. In 1985 - I graduated from high school. In 2000, I started working at NABABNA. This is somewhere between there, maybe in 1990.

So I had this friend and, since I like to use fake names, we will call her Barb. She was having a somewhat difficult time in life, problems with the boyfriend, the job and just wanted to get away from it all. A friend of hers (and former fling (okay, former one night stand) of mine) was a flight attendant living in Detroit. He suggested she move to Detroit and start all over. She could stay with him rent free for a month until she could find a job.

One night, shortly after she decided to do this, we were hanging around at Country Kitchen after the Hogsbreath closed and Rex walks in. "Barb," he says. "I was thinking about it. I just need to live near an airport so we could move to Madison. It's closer to Minnesota." Barb agrees and he goes to talk to someone else in the restaurant. We were sitting around, talking about how she was moving and I mused that I was jealous, I wanted to move and start all over because I hated working at Major's. Barb said "Well, why don't you?"

Hmm, what was keeping me in Minnesota? Nothing. I was 20 something, living at home with my Mom (oh, the indignity) and not involved with anyone. I hated my job and here was the chance to throw caution to the wind and move. It took me five seconds to make this decision. Five seconds. A major life change and I take less time to think about this than I put into deciding what color I'm dying my hair this month. Bah. I deserved what I got.

Katie also decides that she wants to move with us. We approach Rex and tell him we want to move as well. He's okay with it. Another guy there looks at the three of us and says "Huh. A blonde (Katie), a redhead (Barb) and a brunette. You'll be living man's ultimate fantasy, Rex." Oh, yes. Let the orgies begin. Frankly, I've been with Rex and he's not getting anywhere near me again because he is a liar. A liar. Although I will live with him. And then ask myself "What were you thinking?" (Ah yes, the What Were You Thinking question. I am seriously thinking of getting a bracelet similiar to the popular WWJD? (What Would Jesus Do? Are those still popular?) that has WWYT? on it. Maybe I'd actually stop to think something through before I go gallivanting off to Wisconsin with no job and very little money)

My mother tries to talk me out of it. Hah! What does my mother know? My (former) friend Jake (but friend at the time) tries to talk me out of it. "You'll regret it." Hah! What does he know? My employer at Major's (smug, smarmy Norwegian bitch) makes some smug, smarmy comment "Oh, Dana. Why would you do that?" Hah! What does she know?

Apparently, they know quite a lot. But I have to go, Keem is calling. Oh, oh, Keem is calling (sung to tears are falling. Isn't there a song like that?)

Sunday, August 15, 2004

It's a big day for me

It's a monumental day here in the Green Duckies universe. Today we (that would be me and all of the green duckies) hit the big Four Oh Oh. Yeah, 400 hits.

I realize that the majority of these unique hits came from the search for "naked pictures of Tammy Pescatelli/Gary Gulman/Tobey Macquire/Etc." so I just want to give a shout out to the comics of Last Comic Standing for being so gosh darn cute and funny. Tobey Macquire already knows that I love him.

There was the person who was looking for a feline dominatrix. There was someone who possibly also had the song "Accidentally In Love" by the Counting Crows stuck in their head.

And there were people like you. Thanks for reading. And for coming back. And for not having me committed.

Previous comments:

At 10:22 PM, brooksba said...
Congratulations on the big four-oh-oh! You rock!I still check in regularly. I think I'm addicted to Green Duckies now. You've become my blog pusher.

At 10:13 AM, Firebear said...
You have naked photos of Tobey? I loved him as Frodo in those lord of the rings movies!

I Go Shopping

I should not allowed to have a Check Card. Today I bought a magnet. And a surprise gift for Beth. At a convenience store. Which may or may not be a magnet (I'm being sneaky because she'll probably read this before I see her).

My magnet is a picture of William Shatner as Captain Kirk surrounded by tribbles. And then it has the cheesy quote on the side that says "Don't let your tribbles get you down." Well, I think it's funny. And we've already established what my sense of humor is like.

Conversation with Convenience Store Guy:
CSG: Tribbles, huh?
DM: Yeah. I'm a Trekkie (He laughs). Well, I'm not an obsessed Trekkie.
CSG: You either are or you're not. I never got it.
DM: Eh. I like the show. People keep telling me how great Star Wars is and I never got that.

Was I going to tell him the real reason I bought the magnet? No.

So, a few years ago, my manager at NABABNA gave me a test to determine what type of personality I have, the Pace Palette test (the link gives you the general idea, what my manager gave me was the full test which NABABNA paid for). Anyway, the whole deal was that there are four colors and each person falls into one of the color's category. It's a fun test and gives you a pretty good idea of your personality type.

Anyway, I'm a red. Which will mean nothing to you unless you've taken the test. The link says that I'm an Adventurer (and I'm taking these descriptions from the link where it says "You may be a red or you may be a blue, etc. If you want more, pay for the test. It really is worth it). Blue is someone who focuses on creating harmony. Yellow is someone who is responsible. Green is someone who has a sense of curiousity.

What does all this have to do with Captain Kirk? Well, if you look at my profile, it talks about Cream Puff Man. I hate him. This is someone who is a typical green. But not the Pace Palette definition of green. My definition. So, to me, red = flake. Blue = wishy-washy. Yellow = anal. Green = Annoying people who try to control everything and are always saying stuff like "Well, you didn't think this through, did you?" and "That's not very well-planned, is it?" and "I exist only to harsh your buzz."

I am Captain Kirk. I have landed on a new planet and I just want to go and explore and maybe find myself a hot alien chick (okay, this is an example. I would like to find myself the hot alien guy but Captain Kirk was all about the women, okay?) and Spock comes along with his "We need to check the atmosphere." and "This is most illogical." and "I exist only to harsh your buzz."

Beth and Keem are both yellow and green. So it is very odd that I am friends with them. They are organized and logical, two things I definitely am not. So when I tell them my Captain Kirk/Spock analogy, they both say something about "Well, if you don't check the atmosphere, you're going to die. Where's the fun in that? Do you want to explode in space?" And I say "Yes! Yes I do! Fire all my rockets at once and explode into space! Like a true Nature's child, I was born, born to be wild!" Okay, I don't think I actually said that but it would have been fun.

On the night of Beer Goggles, Beth and I figured out who we would all be if we were Star Trek characters. I would be Captain Kirk, Beth would be Spock (and yet I still love her. I guess every Kirk needs their Spock to keep them from exploding), Keem would be Bones (because he's always yelling at Kirk about something (Dana, I'm your roommate, not your Mother!)), Matt would be Scotty, Scott would be Sulu, Rich would be Chekov and Adam would be Uhura.

Plus, Kirk looks really hot on this magnet. He's all scruffy looking.

Previous comments

At 9:06 PM, angelia said...
you are completely insane...and I love ya!

A review. Completely biased but still, a review. Some spoilers.

Yesterday Keem and I went to see two movies. Every once in awhile, we like to pull the Double Feature. You figure they give you a free refill with the large pop and the large popcorn, why not actually see two movies and put the refills to good use (it's not that I don't actually finish the pop/popcorn during the movie, it's that I refuse to leave the theater during the movie...I might miss some special nuance that will completely ruin the movie for me).

So what did we choose to see? The Princess Diaries, A Royal Engagement and Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle. Quality entertainment for the entire family, if the entire family is on crack. Seriously, these are not movies you would think of viewing on the same day.

But I loved them both (okay, who's really surprised by that?) and had a great time.

Princess Diaries, cute, funny, sweet - Julie Andrews sings again and it was worth the $5.25 for the ticket, just for that alone. Anne Hathaway has a beautiful voice as well (watch Ella Enchanted, when is that coming out on DVD? Why must I be tortured waiting for it? And Connie and Carla? When? When?)

Went to buy the tickets for Harold and Kumar and got into a conversation with the ticket guy who remembered me from my earlier purchase. We started talking about Double Features and he said he was thinking of opening a theater that would do the Double Feature on Saturdays but he would show Kung Fu movies. Did I like Kung Fu movies? But of course. Martial Arts rock. I told him about seeing Blade and saying to Eric (the brother-in-law (although then he was the sister's boyfriend)), "Martial Arts and Vampires. What more could you ask for?"

Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle - Oh, my God, I loved it. Yes, it was stupid, yes, it was about stoners and yes, there were some parts that I just wanted to smack someone for writing that joke. But I loved it. What does that say about me? I am afraid to ask that question. Instead, I will ask this question. When the hell did Doogie Howser, MD get so frickin' hot? Neil Patrick Harris in sunglasses, tight jeans and a jean jacket. Oh my.

I read this review that I found through and I have to say that I don't agree with the points that the guy made about how he felt it treated gays. Point #1, maybe I just missed it completely but I didn't think that the weird guy Kumar ran into the forest was trolling for sex...I thought he was just a weird guy. You know, the reason why you're not supposed to pick up hitchhikers because they will stab you.

Point #2, I didn't think that the guy playing the male nurse was a man-hungry gay man, I thought that he was coming on to Kumar because he thought Kumar was his brother and that the male nurse and Kumar's brother were lovers.

Point #3, every stupid redneck, Extreme Sports punk wannabe, Mountain Dew chugging (and I love the Dew, don't get me wrong) jackass who wants to feel good about himself has always tried to make other men feel rotten about themselves by calling them weak and girly. It's not an insult against gays, it's an insult against women. How many times did we hear the expression "So-and-so hits like a girl, move on up" when we were in junior high and high school? How many times did we want to go and beat them with the baseball bat until they lay bleeding and broken at your feet? Or was that just me?

I really did like these movies. I am also excited about the previews we saw, including First Daughter (I know, I know but Marc Blucas is in it and I love him. He was Riley on Buffy! Riley!), some football movie starring Billy Bob Thornton, Mr. 3000 starring Bernie Mac and many other movies. I love previews. Even though they pretty much show you the entire movie now. Remember when previews were 30 seconds and you wanted to go see the movie because you had no clue what was going to happen? And now you watch the movie and think "Oh, that was in the preview. Now all we have to do is wait for the alien mothership to blow up..."

Friday, August 13, 2004

Is there a doctor in the house?

Does anyone have any idea as to why, every time I sit up or sit down or move my head, I keep getting these weird head rushes? And, sometimes, the room starts spinning for a good minute or two? This is not good, especially when I am getting up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and I'm completely disorientated already.

I think I am broken. And I don't know how to fix me.

I should be drinking more water so I'll try that. Thanks for the tip, Robert-Marlene. The inner ear thing is a possibility. I keep remembering a Love Boat episode I saw when Captain Stubing was having the same problem and he thought he was dying and it turned to be because of an allergy to roses was affecting his balance via his inner ear.

Previous comments

At 1:06 PM, Robert ~ Marlénè said...
Sounds like a hangover... may be dehydration, possibly from an allergic reaction or just an accidental combination of diuretics (caffeine or alcohol or aspirin) and heat. Or else an inner-ear problem. A touch of encephalitis, perhaps? Drink a lot of water (like so much water that you think your eyeballs are gonna float out) and keep your head still... even if it doesn't fix it, flushing yourself with water every now and again is very good for you, and keeping still is always worthwhile.Feel better!

At 11:59 AM, Anonymous said...
What's your blood pressure like? People with good to low blood pressure sometimes get little dizziness spells afters relaxing for a bit of time and then begin moving quickly ie laying down and standing up.

Tattooed White Trash*

Yep, that's right. I have tattoos. And, according to my mother, some day I am going to be 80, in the doctor's office and really embarrassed when my doctor is examining me. This has actually happened, all except for the being 80 part. But the problem isn't that I'm ashamed of being tattooed, no, the problem is much more than that.

So I have three tattoos. #1 is on my right shoulder blade, it is a rose growing through a heart to symbolize that love, while beautiful, is also very painful. Because, I, Ms. Longest Relationship Ever Was 6 Months (and that's not the guy I was engaged to), have no clue what love is all about. #3 is a very cute, cartoon rendition of a baby dragon who is asleep (Let Sleeping Dragons Lie (I have no idea what that's supposed to mean, I just like to say it) on the swell of my right breast (which was a dumb place to put it because, hey, if I ever manage to have cleavage, I have to be careful of how much of it I show).

It's the second one that's the problem. So, I like smiley faces, or I used to, and so to symbolize my love for smiley faces, I got one tattooed on my left breast. And then, I saw Austin Powers and decided to turn the smiley face tattoo into my homage to Austin Powers by asking my tattoo artist to add some writing to the tattoo. Since a friend of mine and I are good repeat business, he agrees to throw in the writing when he does my 3rd tattoo, the dragon.

So, I'm sitting in the chair and explaining to him what I want the words to say. Why, oh, why didn't I write this down for him in big block letters?

DM: Over the top of the face it should read "Groovy." And around the bottom, it should say "Yeah, Baby!"
Tattoo Guy (TG): Okay. I can do that.

He proceeds to tattoo the dragon. I lean back and relax, completely at one with the world, getting my tattoo fix (they seriously are addictive). He finishes the tattoo and proceeds to start with the writing.

TG: Okay, so how do you spell groovy? Is it G R O O B Y?
DM: Uh, no, that would be grooby. And that's not a word. It's G R O O V Y.
TG: Oh. Okay.

He tattoos, I wince in pain. Certain ink colors can cause serious pain...for me, black ink is almost as painful as having a tattoo reworked. Ouch.

TG: Okay, how do you spell yeah? Is it Y A H?
DM: Uh, no, that would be yah (Is that even a word)? It's Y E A H.
TG: Oh. Okay.

More tattooing. More pain and wincing. Stupid black ink. Why didn't I say use green ink? Why? Oh, God, he's stopped again. Now what?

TG: Okay, how do you spell baby? Is it B A B B Y?
DM: Yes.
TG: Okay.

Yes, yes, I know. But in my defense, I was thinking "My God, can anyone really be that stupid? Quit asking me questions, Tattoo Guy and get to the tattooing!" In my defense, my stupid former friend Jake was sitting right there and could have said something! But, no, he thought it was funny.

TG: Okay, what do you think? How does it look?
DM: Great. Except that it says "Yeah Babby."
Jake: Hahahahahahaha! (Falls on the floor laughing. Damn him)

So a few years later, there I am, at the doctor's office, watching my really great Physician's Assistant freak out over the horrid rattling sound in my lungs. I am sitting there, flimsy paper robe around my waist, horribly sagging breasts horribly sagging with tattoos and nipple piercings weighting them down even more and in walks this extremely distinguished looking doctor in his late 50's, the kind of guy I'm going to want to marry when I'm in my late 70's. He begins to listen to my lungs and looks down. "Did you realize that baby was spelled wrong?" he asks in his distinguished "I'm a doctor, trust me" voice. I die of embarrassment. Because, even worse than baby being spelled wrong, I've also figured out that groovy was actually spelled G R O O E Y. What a mantra for our generation. Grooey! Yeah, Babby.

Yes, once again, my mother was right. God, I hate that.

The nipple rings are gone, removed during Act One of the great play of 2002, The Cancer Scare, where my PA found a lump and I had to get a mammogram. No way in hell were they squishing great lumps of my body with rings attached...and since I really only got the piercings to rebel against Mom and she was right, what was the point in repiercing?

*The title comes from Beth. She knew a guy who was convinced that everyone with a tattoo was the sterotypical trailer trash, white trash, hick. Stupid stereotypes. Fun title.

An email about Josh and Godzilla

I don't usually work Saturday nights. When I do, it's usually very slow at NABABNA and Beth and I are somewhat bored. And we do odd things.

This last Saturday, we started talking about a banker who really annoys me (I'm working on a post about him for Out of the Mouths of Morons, his name has become Random Ma'am or RM (he calls me ma'am, it annoys me)) and, well, it got a little weird.

DM: I am tired. Let's go home. What's the worst that could happen?
B: Um, we'd get fired. We'd have no money and I'd have to move in with my mom, sell my car, and sell all my possessions. I couldn't blog since I'd have sold my new computer. And with no car and no money, we'd never hear Bryan McDonald sing again.

Time goes by. Beth asks me what she thinks the Big Boss (our managers' manager now known as BB) would think about the email she was writing to him.

DM: I don't know. Probably "Wow. That Beth is one smart cookie." Okay, probably not. But I'm sure he would think you were smart.
B: What do you think he'd say when I told him the email I was writing him made my computer crash?
DM: I think he would say "Oh, that computer. It's not a smart cookie." I seem to be obsessed with smart cookies tonight. As opposed to the dumb ones.
B: You are hilarious! I think it's just an anti-RM thing.
DM: He doesn't deserve to be a cookie. Smart or dumb. He's just a moron.
B: Maybe he is a Splenda cookie that is soggy (or something to that effect. Stupid me and my not copying the whole email...dang it).
DM: Splenda isn't all that bad. Maybe he is a icky Zwieback which my nephew will eat and it will get all soggy and then maybe Josh (my nephew, who is teething and not happy about it, apparently) would bite his head off. That would be fun. And I would laugh. Hahahahaha! My nephew bit your head off, you Moron Boy, you! Hmm, I think I might be slightly insane.
B: I love the fact you're now turning your sweet, little nephew into a hungry, teething monster who will kill by biting off people's heads. You might be slightly insane. Funny, but insane.
DM: Well, I was once sweet. And look how I turned out. I'm sure Josh is going to be turning to his friends when he's 37 and asking for the fork (long story, I will explain in a later post).
B: But will he be eating random people?
DM: No, I don't want to change him into a monster. I'm just imagining he would bite him. And it would be fun...hahahaha!
B: You might have been sweet, but you haven't turned yourself into a raving, monster who eats others. And biting RM so that his head falls off. That's no longer a sweet, teething nephew.
DM: Okay. How about Godzilla? He's already a monster. Can he bite RM's head off?
B: Godzilla would be really good to bite off RM's head.
DM: Yay! And he will jump up and down on him as well! Smush him! Smush! Crush him like the rodent he is!
B: Squish like a bug! The earth would shake if Godzilla jumped. It'd be fun.
DM: It's the big one! And then we would look out and see that it was Godzilla. And we would laugh. Because he was squishing RM.
B: We're horrible, horrible people. But I'm smiling at the image. RM actually managed to log out tonight. I'm stunned.
DM: Oh, my God! Maybe he learned through osmosis (I'm pretty sure I meant the process where you stick a book under your pillow and it seeps into your head overnight (which, now that I think of it, seems very strange and where would I come up with this? Oh, yeah, sarcastic English teacher in high school who asked someone if they studied for a test through osmosis))!
B: Did we immerse him in water?
DM: I'm not sure. Maybe Godzilla threw him in the water.
B: And then swam out to him to eat him?
DM: Could be. And then said "You're a moron. Log out of your damn phone!"

We spent a few moments reminiscing about one of our old co-workers who no longer works for NABABNA and we miss him.

DM: I miss that stupid co-worker who no longer works here.
B: I do too. That's why I watch Conan O'Brien so much. Now I'm sad that there's no former co-worker here.
DM: I know. That dork. How could he abandon us like this? Let's sick Godzilla on him as well...
You know, I typed that and then thought "Um, Dana, we don't have Godzilla's phone number."
B: Ha! You are correct. It might be easier to find Rodan's number. I don't think he's as popular and probably is still listed.

Then we had a discussion with one of Beth's bankers about Godzilla, Rodan and Mothra and who would be more formidable. And whether or not we should go to New Orleans next year on vacation.

Yes, it was a productive evening.

Previous comments
At 2:21 AM, angelia said...
you have some of the funnest, yet strangest conversations....why can't you be closer to me at Nababna? is just not fair!

Last Comic Standing - The End (well, until Season 3)

Last night, I watched John Heffron win the title of Last Comic Standing. Alonzo Bodden was 1st runner up. Gary Gulman was 2nd runner up. I am okay with the decision. I had a hard time deciding who I wanted to win and finally narrowed it down to either John or Alonzo. At the last moment, Keem was chanting "John, John, John" and I was chanting "Alonzo, Alonzo, Alonzo."

I will be following all three of their careers and hope that they come to Minnesota. I rarely go to actual clubs (comedy, dance, 4H (actually is 4H a club or an organization? I get confused)) but would go to see them.

I still miss Dan Naturman. Where are you? Oh, here you are. I would go see you if you came to Minnesota as well.

I so need to get cable.