Random Thoughts Friday…

I won’t call this a tradition, because I do that and then it never happens again.

I wish I could blog while driving in my car, listening to music. That’s when my best thinking gets done. I get home and it all blows away, like little puffy clouds.

In addition to the Karen Elson CD, I went to the library last week and checked out these two CDs, Both soundtracks. They are good.


If you click on both the photos, you can see the listings on the Amazon page.

I’ve wanted the Seu George CD for quite some time. I am ashamed to say I actually watched the Nick and Norah movie and um, liked it. Hate Michael Cera still, but liked it. Read the book and thought it was not very good or well-written, and you know I read a lot of young adult. The rare case of film from a book being better than the source. Plus, I played the CD in my car for Mr. I’m So Indie You Can Call Me Hipster, my husband, and flummoxed him so bad he had to get his iPhone app out and put it up to the speakers. Heh.

Our neighbors across the hall moved out today, kind of stealthily. I am sad. They were a nice couple with an adorable redheaded little girl. They had two huge obnoxious dogs, but I gave them a pass on that. They were the kind of couple who heard us fighting loudly one morning and knocked on the door later to see if I was okay. Not for anyone to think my husband and are are in some sort of burning bed relationships. Couples fight. Esp. when money is tight.

I think that’s why they left. They had relocated from Michigan when he lost his job. But I have to say — I don’t know how he thought he was going to find one in Florida. We suck, so hard. Sigh. I just feel weird and sad and awful about it.

I hope everyone has a great Memorial Day weekend. My husband has hurt his back, and as I did that myself a few weeks ago, I can empathize. If it gets better, we’ll go to the local arthouse cinema to see this:

That would be The Good, The Bad and The Weird. Click on the poster for more info. Can you tell I figured out how to do something in WordPress today, hmmm?

I have to say, I miss Typepad SO MUCH. I wonder about Blogger, too. But I’m stuck here, b/c it’s free and I don’t want to lose the loyal readership of six or so I’ve built up.

Have an awesome weekend, and I’ll leave you with a (purposely) hysterical video from the new album from The National. I admit it, I’m in lust with their lead singer. At our version of Coachella a few years back (Langerado), he closed the festival, drunk off his ass, swilling vodka and calling it “Vitamin V.”

Now that’s MY KIND OF MAN.

I’ll take her life, please!

One of the perks of being married to my husband is that he occasionally brings home free CDs from the record companies. Last week/this week was a banner week, with the Echo and the Bunnymen greatest hits compilation, new Band of Horses (that one was more for him ) new Dierks Bentley bluegrass (Hey, I am versatile) and an interesting debut by…Karen Elson. Yes, her.

I am not a big “model” fan, but I love me some Karen Elson. Wife of Jack White. Owner of this AWESOME vintage clothing boutique in Nashville. If we ever go back, I’m heading into Venus and Mars faster than you can play me that McCartney song on my old 8 track.

And now, you can listen to The Ghost Who Walks. I’ve been listening all day. A little bit of PJ Harvey, a little Americana, very atmospheric and well produced. Why, I haven’t enjoyed a model’s album this much since Milla Jovovich’s The Divine Comedy, and yes I do have that and flove it.

In other news, I finished this the other day, and will probably make more to sell this fall, with revisions so it’s not a direct copy — I plan to make it an infinity scarf. Other than that, I’m in a bit of a knitting funk and don’t know what the weekend will bring.

Thanks for reading, and for all your comments. I’ll start responding in the comments again, FYI. Because I care!

Now that Lost is over, what will I do?

Well, now that I have my life back after last night!

So yes, I sat down for 2 1/2 hours of Lost, which was really an hour and 45 minutes, plus 45 minutes of commercials (I know b/c I saw it on the Hulu broadcast clock!), but before I get to that, I thought I would put up something pretty…

Louisa Harding Kimono Ribbon, and Louisa Harding Grace


These two yarns, plus this German tin pin, thrifted of course from one of my jaunts to the local thrift barns, will make Dame Harding’s “Butterfly.” I will try and scan a photo of the pattern later this week, as no one has yet made it and put it in the Ravelry database. That is the case with another one of her patterns I made, “Chalkhills.”

Cleaning out my yarn bins, and selling the balls for cash (which in turn goes to food and medicine….sigh) has meant I might finally get around to making what I really wanted to make all along. A few wardrobe essentials, not a bunch of crap I’ll never wear. We’ll see. It’s time to LET GO.

Which leads me back to Lost. I invested six years in this show, and after it ended last night at 11:30, I was pissed. But on a day’s worth of reflection, and rewatching without all the wretched, wretched commercials, or dealing with my husband tweeting during the first half (something he had to do for work), I feel better, if not completely satisfied.

I take things to seriously, too much to heart. Yes, I give a damn about certain TV shows. Hello Deadwood, how I miss you! You never gave me closure, but I still love your cold, black heart! Breaking Bad, you are running in a close second, so don’t let me down.

But this show appealed to both my rational, logical side (which is very strong) and my emotional one. So it makes sense that my logical side was PISSED OFF last night. It has healed with the day, though.

I think I’m a little more perplexed by all the people on Facebook — these are my “friends” I’m talking about, who say, “Oh, I never watched this show but I watched the finale last night. I think I get it!” Um, why? I never watched The Sopranos, so I could give two squirrel farts how it ended! Same with Sex and the City! Here’s a quiz: Name something I’d rather do that go see the new Sex and the City movie. If you said be attacked by rabid geese, you would only have named No. 29 on the list.

So. Anyway. I was right about one thing all along:

This dude would be the new Island King. Come on! Jorge Garcia is THE MAN!


If you know me, you know I LOVE the big guys. And I absolutely adore his blog. What he can do with a cupcake is legendary. You’ll have to check the archives.

The final scene didn’t get me in the gut because…I’m not a dog person. Sorry. But this dog reminds me of our before-last family dog. Who died a pretty horrific death.

Without saying much more, the one thing about Lost that is very, very personal for me is this: Terry O’Quinn, the actor who played Locke, reminds me (facially) of my father, before he became ill and it manifested itself.

And so, I find it hard to look at him and not think about the fact that right now, my father gets sicker every day, and it’s something my family doesn’t talk about much. It is just something we endure.

And I don’t talk about it much either. But it’s happening, so it’s out there. So watching a program on life, death, and what happens after, it was a little too much for me, when I really just wanted all the mysteries and riddles answered.

But, I guess that’s a whole lot like life, right?

The interview and what I’ll be doing tonight…

I didn’t want to let today go by without a post. Friends, all less than ten of you, the interview went poorly. As much as I make fun of the “What makes you special?” one of a few weeks back, I can at least admit I did blow that one on a few questions, and I really, really wanted that job. The benefits were crazy good. Also, they place was professional. When they said they would call whethere I did or didn’t make it to the next round of interviews, they actually followed through. I truly appreciated that.

However, here’s what I felt like at this week’s travesty:

Let’s be frank — I feel like Dolly a lot, considering the size of my frontal region, and I also worship Lady D. No shame in that game.

But I felt like I was dealing with Mr. Hart, as the woman I was supposed to be interviewing with drug me into some Dabney Coleman lookalike’s torture chamber. He focussed more on the second page of my resume than the first (stuff I did 20 years ago!), he asked me questions and then didn’t let me answer, and then he wanted me to come around to his desk, lean over him and “fix” his Microsoft toolbar. Which is all well and good, I suppose, except, oh, my bewbs would have been touching his back at that point.

Thanks, but no. And he never told me WHAT the job at his full-service marketing/advertising agency actually WAS, even when I pressed him on it. Just that it was a “From the ground up get your hands dirty” kind of thing. Translation: I want you to do what everyone else doesn’t want to. And he demanded I give him my salary expectations. On the first interview? When you haven’t even told me what I’m going to be doing?

Check, please.

What I’ll be doing tonight, all night. Watching this:

Photo courtesy of Damon Carlton and a Polar Bear


I have never missed an episode of Lost since it debuted in 2004. When I think that was six years ago, I am floored. That was two jobs and an unemployment ago. I can’t say that about any other TV show, ever.

But you know, all these years later….I still really hate Jack and Kate. But I still love Hurley. It’s just something about the big guys!

Pulling out the grey flannel suit…

For another interview tomorrow. How I loath the grey flannel trousers and grey batwing top (which at least has a little personality!) I have put on since I actually started getting interviews this year. Laws, but it is boring. Wish me luck? That I get a marketing schlub job I could do in my sleep? Hope springs eternal.

Went to Art Rock this past weekend, which is the new sister show of Stitch Rock, where I vend every October. I wish I had done this one, but it was nice to shop and support “the usual suspects” and some newbies for a change.

Iron Forge Press was an incredible vendor; they do posters for all the concerts which come to the Fort Lauderdale/Miami area. Check out their work, you will love them.

I would be proud to put this Wilco poster on my wall:

Photo courtesy of Iron Forge Press

Instead, I was taken by their limited edition Blondie and Ramones screenprint shirts. I love me some Blondie, that you know, not just for Debs, but for the whole band. I can’t resist a shirt where Clem Burke will be on my left bewb:

That is the front, and the text is on the inside of the shirt; a nice touch!

I also finally finished something for MEEEE. The Phiaro scarf in grey. Yes, grey. I have ruined two of these before finally finishing one correctly. It is not the knitting that is hard, it is the way you knit/finish it. And I messed up again at the finish line and had to lop off a good six/eight inches.

Pictured with my Anna Karina shirt from the lovely Amy at Every Little Counts.

You see, I would live in T-shirts and yoga pants if I could.

Goals and rewards

Friday:
Put a bunch of yarn up for sale today on Ravelry. Sold one lot and another bunch of magazines (FINALLY). Feel a little lighter. I always tell my husband, stuff weighs you down the longer you keep it. I plan to keep re-listing until I unload more. The time has really come. I can’t knit it all, it won’t be of use to the Etsy shop, which is doing bupkus (though I sold a hat this week), and we may have to move at the end of the year. So, get rid of it.

This Summer:
We may have to cut off the cable. It is simply too expensive. Yes, it’s come to that. I thought about it for a day and said, okay. There’s always Hulu (until they start charging for it). I will live. How many VH1 reality shows do I need to watch anyway?

This Week:
I have applied for a job(s) every day this week, starting with last Friday. I even had a contact back from one, but it was to fill out a questionnaire. It didn’t ask what makes me special, but it did ask for my life’s goals. I gave the biggest piece of bullcrack answer I could. I did not say I would put the Nasty in Dynasty.

I spent a lot of time driving this week, and I love listening to my iPod in the car. I have one song on default when I want to hit “shuffle songs,” and I know you will never in a million years guess what it is. Yes, you think I’m all indie and such, and you would be right, but my heart belongs to Soul Train, and damn, but I love me some Shalimar. Did you you Jeffrey Daniel taught Michael Jackson to moonwalk? It’s true. And I’ve always loved Jody Watley’s style. Yes, this white girl was rocking the big ass silver hoop earrings and sky high curls back in the day.

Enjoy the second time around. I do, every chance I get.

I told you that Mongolian baby was a badass

I am seriously in love with Bayar, that Mongolian kid from Babies. I told you! That kid is awesome. What he does to a roll of toilet paper is simply EPIC. And the Mongolian swaddling technique is to be studied and learned from. A baby goes in, and does not come out. For about 12 months.

For a good review with nice slideshow and audio bit, I recommend the New York Times’ A.O. Scott piece, here.

I will not editorialize much on Babies, either you will like it or not. There are some movies that are review-proof for me. I made fun of this thing for three months, and then got sucked it. I simply had to see…the Mongolian baby. When I say I won’t editorialize, I mean about the differences between the African/Asian babies and the U.S. counterpart. Either you can deal with the hippy-dippy earth mother type parenting or you can’t. A nice bag of popcorn and a Coke make it go down easier.

A big plus: With the exception of cute African baby (who has lots of bush dogs), all the babies have CATS. Babies and CATS. It was simply too much for me. My head exploded.

Today I stood in line at the Dollar Store behind someone getting 102 items. Now, my first thought was: Why the fuck do I have to get in line behind the hoarders every damn time? Seriously? My second thought, voiced by the person in front of me, was: isn’t there a 100 items or less line?

It is what it is. We are hurtin’ for certain for money (and yet I went to see a matinee — don’t rub it it, I used the change box for money) and I get beans and soap products at the Dollar Store. There was a woman in line with open facial sores and a shirt that read,” You can’t have a Dynasty without the NASTY!” I wanted you all to know.

The woman in line behind told me she was stocking up because she just got a job after 11 months. I told her I was on my 15th. I congratulated her and asked if I could rub her body for luck. Not really.

We will see what tomorrow brings.

What makes you special?

I want you to think about that question for a bit. Feel free to answer in the comments. Whether you comment here regularly or never have before. I really want to know.

I’ll bet you wonder why I ask. I’ll tell you: I didn’t get the job. I had my interview on Wednesday, and was told I would hear one way or the other if I made it to the “second round,” which would commence on Friday. I will not lie — I did want this job. It was for an editorial assistant, something I did ten frackin’ years ago. But to do what I was trained to do, and not, um, clean men’s toilets? Yeah, I wanted it. And the benefits were amazing, even if the pay was only mediocre.

But I didn’t make it. Hey, at least they called. But why didn’t I? I don’t know. If I’m being honest, I think I whiffed on some of the questions. And then there was the fact that it was a double team interview. If it had just been nerd guy, I think I might have had it in the bag. But then nerd girl came in, and I new I was toast. Now look, I’m not Megan Fox, but laws, this thing was as plain as dirt, and in dire need of a makeover. Have you ever seen someone who has hair that just has no shine at all? Like it has the color of coal dust? And looks like it was cut with pinking shears? Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I need a root job and there’s some silver in there, but at least my locks are shiny!

Anyway. Those questions. I really think these questions have got stop, and whoever thinks the “If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?” line of questioning works needs a boot up his or her ass, and badly. Folks, I have interviewed job applicants, and more than once. I never asked these bullshit questions. Which leads me to the title of this missive.

When I got lobbed “What makes you special?” I honestly was gobsmacked. What the hell kind of question is that? My husband came up with the perfect answer. “I’m very versatile.” Of course, that did NOT come tripping off my tongue. I won’t tell you what did. But I will tell you what could have. Because I have made it almost a game at this point!
1) My incredible three-point shot.
2) My solid gold ladyparts
3) I see dead people.

You get the idea! Play along, please. It’s so much fun…

Basically, my problem is this: I think everyone is special. I don’t care what religion/non-religion you are, everyone is special in God’s/Buddha’s eyes. Or in the universe’s eyes. Don’t you think? We all bring something to the table. But maybe it’s not something you can discuss in a job interview. Maybe what makes you special is your killer Yoda impersonation, I don’t know. I once had a friend whom I could say that about.

Whatever. I just think I blew it with the nerds, and besides, female nerd once wrote a book with an old friend/critique group leader of mine (name withheld) who is a multi-published novelist, I mean this is what she does for a living. And I think nerd-girl got this one shot with a coattail project with my friend, and never had any success again. Now, where I come from, that little bit of success is better than none, as we all know, I chased that dragon and never caught its tail. But maybe blurting out, “OMG, I’ve read that book, and I know the other author, she’s a friend of mine!” was not the thing to say. It just wasn’t.

So now you know what happened. I have twelve weeks until I run out of benefits. Then, my tiny savings trickles away. We are getting to the point where we can’t afford food and medicine. So, what am I doing today?

Well, I just got my gold tooth put in, I did apply for some jobs, and I’m going to see that Babies movie. Please don’t ask me why. Yes, my ovaries are tingling. But I need a baby like I need to be kicked by a goat. I don’t know, it’s just that Mongolian baby, there’s something about HIM. He’s such a badass.

Here’s the only baby I’m probably every gonna have. Later.

A book and a movie

It’s been a slow week here at Chez Tanya; my husband has been attending our local music festivus, SunFest every night, and I sit home alone, a music widow. I call the thing ScumFest, and have been about three times in the 25-year plus cycle — to see Rickie Lee Jones, the Indigo Girls and Steve Miller. I have weird taste. Deal.

Yes, I could go with him, but he gets in for FREE, and I’d have to pay about 40 bucks and then buy food and liquour. So, thanks but no thanks. Plus, it’s hotter than Satan at a barbecue down these parts. Oh, did I mention I have a job interview next week? Wonders never cease.

But this week, I actually read a book in one night and watched a movie in two. Because all 11 people who come here (I count the hits) are foreced to read my ramblings, sit back a spell, and enjoy a two-piece and biscuit.

I special ordered from the library (don’t you just love the library? it’s FREE!) Yvonne Prinz’s The Vinyl Princess.

I love reading young adult novels, and still have my almost-finished one sitting on my hard drive. Will I ever get the writing bug again? Time will tell. But as for this one, I was interested because it was about a teen who works at a record — I said RECORD store, and the writer herself has an interest in founding Amoeba Records in Berkley. If you know me and my husband, you know we’ll never pass the opportunity to browse a real record store, if’n we can find one. In fact, we have one here in town, called Confusion Records, and I know the owner, who is nutty, eccentric, and was with us when we saw this dude get killed at a David Bowie concert, but I’m digressing…

This was an extremely READABLE book, as I finished it in just a few hours. It did have that hint of music snobbery, and hey, I guess I have that to some extent, just in a different direction. It gave me hope for my unfinished writing, as it tackled cultural things I had tried to touch on but was constantly told by critique groups not to. So, suck it critique groups. I like a biting, acerbic main character/voice, and this book had one. My only complaint was that it was a little directionless, and I felt not much happened or was at stake when all was said and done. Some peripheral characters got rather short shrift. Oh, and I love retro music as much as the next guy, but I also love retro pop and funk. Just sayin’.

I also watched Flight of the Red Ballon, a film by one of my favorite directors, Taiwan’s Hsiao-hsien Hou. His films Millenium Mambo and Three Times are two of my faves from the 2000 to 2010 decade.

This is sort of an homage and an expansion of The Red Balloon, and I caution you, not a lot “happens,” it is more of an observational piece. Funny how I don’t mind that in a film, but I do in a book. Regardless, if you have the patience for this kind of film, you will be enchanted by the young actor playing Juliette Binoche’s son. He has a natural quality, and yes, my ovaries were tingling.

I will go on the record right now and say: I truly appreciate Juliette Binoche when she is in films in her native language, such as Blue, or this.
But when she’s in anything speaking English, I think the material is beneath her. Please, if you have seen the absolutely EXECRABLE Dan in Real Life, tell me: Did you puke in your mouth like I did? That sack of putrid shit is the worst thing I’ve seen since I climbed out of the womb. I’m serious.

Well, I do go on, I know. I wish I could be one of those blogs by the pretty girls who show pretty pictures of pretty things and don’t write much, but sadly, I’m a mouthy broad and I have things I need to say!

I also won about $50 on my horse at the Derby today, so yeah me. Mama needs a new pair of…something.