Wig in a Box

Hedwig and the Angry Inch is one of my favorite movies. In addition to appealing to the immense faghag in me, it's glamorous with great music. But it's also an amazing story, beautifully told and very moving.

For those of you that may not know of it, it began as an off Broadway musical, and hit the big screen in 2001. It's the story of Hedwig, who began life as Hansel and had a botched sex change operation (Angry Inch, get it?). Then her husband leaves her, then her lover leaves her, steals all the songs they wrote together and becomes famous pop star Tommy Gnosis. We get to follow Hedwig and her band as they follow Tommy around. While he plays huge venues, Hedwig and the Angry Inch play over salad bars and dinner buffets.

It's a very funny movie, and moving too. I've seen it a million times and I still often tear up at the end, and always get goose bumps during "The Origin of Love". I have the soundtrack and listen to it often. If you haven't gotten my point yet, my point is go see this movie.

Hedwig is well on it's way to cult status. It even has midnight showings a la Rocky Horror in quite a few places across the country. Tucson's The Loft is one of them, and last Saturday, John Cameron Mitchell, writer director and star of Hedwig was here to join us for it. When I heard about it I almost peed all over myself. I was a little nervous, because I love this movie so very much, that it would have been a huge disappointment if he should turn out to be a jerk.

Luckily, he was not a jerk. I didn't get to meet him, but he spoke for quite a while before the movie played, and he was great. Very funny, witty, gracious and kind. I love him even more now. I'm positively starstruck, and I didn't even get within 20 feet of him. But I'm still mooning around over it and listening to the soundtrack over and over again, singing as loud as I can.

And that was my big exciting weekend. Oh, and those of you looking for a Christmas present for me, here.

Fried Grease Ahoy, Matey!

Last night I had a hankerin' for some Long John Silver's. It's gross, but every now and then (maybe a few times a year) I crave it like crazy. I asked Robb if it was ok with him, and he said sure. I said, "Do you know what it is, do you remember?".

He said "Sure, it's where we get the Dog Puffs." Um, what? So he tried again. "Puppy Puffs?" By this point I'm laughing hysterically, so he gives it all he's got. "DOG PUPPIES!!"

Of course he was talking about HushPuppies. I told him the name, and for the rest of the night, every now and then he would say "Wait, Puff Dogs?"

Come to think of it, I don't think my craving got cured last night. I need some more.

So I'm Not the Only Dumbass Here?

We recently submitted a bid to a City Procurement Office (not our city). It was a total rush job, I don't know who dropped the ball; all I know is that it was given to me at 8:30 am and I was told it had to be delivered (about a 2 hour drive) by 3 that afternoon, meaning to be really super safe, I needed to get it done and find a courier to give it to by 11:30, tops.

The Operations Manager and the Controller actually put most of it together, and I just compiled it and made all the pretty copies and got it out the door. I was flipping through my copy today, though, and noticed an amusing mistake. They asked for the resume of the Key Person (the Ops Manager), and I guess he sort of had a half done version completed that we threw in.

Under Skills (I wish it said Skillz), it reads:

-Management of factory resources as tool for sales force (not sure what this means).

The resume actually had on it "not sure what this means".

Under his name and phone number, it reads "e-mail address here".

I don't think we'll win this bid.

Santa Baby

Here is Robb's letter to Santa (my comments are in italics):

Dear Santa,

May I please have a scooter so I don't have to ask Brian and Ivan to use Ivan's scooter all the time and can I have a cartoon (just to remind you) poster of Star Wars(he underlined "cartoon", and I think he maybe felt that was a little harsh, hence the "just to remind you") . A play toy for Emo and Nomi (the cats) but two so they don't fight and Pente so Eli can take the other Pente (Eli brought the board game over months ago and left it) and more Yu-gi-oh cards and can you make Armie stuff, kids news, a night light. This is the last one, all the cartoon Star Wars books. I thank you so much for all the time you wasted for all the kids. Soooooooooo much.

That child amuses me to no end. He's 9, and I am a little surprised he's still hanging on to Santa. He was showing Eli the letter, and quickly justified himself, saying that he believes in Santa more than anyone, and he believes in his heart that Santa is real. So he knows that other kids his age are doubting, but he's hanging on. I think this may be the last year, so I'll try to make it a really good one.

My Sweet Sweet Honeybun

For those of you that may not know, Shmee lives about 1 1/2 hours away from me. We spend the weekends together, which is nice, but of course the distance still puts a bit of a strain on the relationship at times (ok, it puts a bit of a strain on me, anyway). We usually get in a good phone conversation every evening, so I still feel like we're sufficiently in touch, and it's ok.

Tuesday night, we talked for about an hour, just about whatever or nothing. At the end of the phone call, though, he said "Hey, are you wearing a purple shirt?". I wasn't, it was mauve, but I know that for boys, there is pink and there is purple, but there is no mauve. So I said yes, and immediately got very excited that we had perhaps reached a point of psychic connection. He followed up with "and you're wearing blue jeans?". At this point, I started to look around. My living room is in the back of the townhome, with a big sliding glass door that goes out into my back patio that has a tall wooden fence around it, and at the front of the house is the kitchen, but I wasn't in that line of sight. But when he asked if I had just finished a coke, I knew he was somewhere, and finally spied that sneaky boy peeking in a split in the back fence.

So I got a great surprise midweek visit that made me super happy. We ended up watching the election results unfold in stunned silence, but that's ok. We also watched Gothika, which I thought was pretty good, but... something... seemed wrong with it. I recommend it, even though Halle Berry bugs. She's sinfully hot, but I just am not crazy about her.

And that, my friends, is the end of my story about my fabulous darling boyfriend.

I Will Find That Old Lady, and Make Her Sorry.

Sorry for the lack of updates, but it's been a crazy shitstorm of a week. I feel like all I've done is work, study, work my part time gig, knit and sleep.

For those of you that don't remember, I am now selling mark, which you can go here to purchase, then type in my phone number at the end of your order. Email me here for my phone number.

Anyway, mark has cute little catalogs that are called magalogs (magazine+catalog). I ordered several million of them to distribute, and immediately ran out to put one on the bulletin board by the mailboxes. The next afternoon, it was gone. We keep a garbage pail by the mailboxes so as to conveniently dispose of your junk mail, and I thought I should make sure no one just threw it away. Happily, it was almost empty, and my magalog was nowhere to be seen, so I put up another one. When that was gone the next day, I did find it in the trash. I took it back out and put it back up. Over the past 2 weeks, I have repeated this process every day. It's not always in the trash, so it's safe to assume that at least a couple of them have been taken home by an interested person, but most of the time it is in the trash.

For some reason I am taking this completely personally. I know we have a no solicitation rule, and I would never dream of putting them on doors. But I completely fail to see the problem with the community bulletin board. For several weeks, there was a flyer from one of the tenants advertising her gopher services, and for the past week there has been a card up from one of the tenants selling a medicine cabinet. I'm really not sure why those are ok, yet mine is not. I've gone out of my way to make it clear I'm a tenant that lives there by writing "COME SEE ME IN UNIT 9" across the front. I think tonight when I put it up, I will put a note saying "WHY IS THIS" (arrow pointing to the medicine cabinet card) "OK, AND THIS" (arrow pointing to my magalog) "NOT?".

My complex is filled mainly with older people. There are 2 other families with kids (Robb's friends), and the college kids next door, but as far as I can tell the majority of the tenants are quite a bit older, so I know I'm never going to sell a ton of this product there. I also know that sometimes older people who don't have a lot to do grasp on to the "rules" and will act as the police of the homeowner's association. However, as stated, I really don't understand what rule I'm breaking. I'm currently trying to weigh my desire to triumph against the time, cost and aggrevation this is causing me. It's making me way too upset.

I wish I knew who it was, so I could ask what the problem is. Shmee suggests setting up surveillance, and I'm about ready to try that.

They're hurting my feelings :-(

On the brighter side, I ordered a shitload of makeup for myself, so I would know how it went on, and also always be able to say "Why, I'm wearing mark, and I'm just the girl to get you some", in case I'm ever asked what lipstick I'm wearing. Turns out that it really is good makeup. So even if I never sell any, I've got good new makeup at a discount.