I'm so pretty I should be on a podcast

I've declared this summer The Summer of Being Famous.

So of course, I am on a podcast. (I totally misspelled that podcats, which would also be awesome).

I didn't have to do anything especially famousy to be on this podcast, in fact all I had to do was submit my name and phone number to a stranger.

And the result.....

The Better Strangers Podcast hosted by Aric McKeown.



The premise of the podcast is "Socially awkward podcast host Aric McKeown explores his very elementary grasp on the art of conversation with complete strangers." 


The combination of this premise and my own spaz-tastic awkwardness makes for one one-of-a-kind conversation. 


Aric and I had never met, and still have never met but we talked and talked about almost everything, and by everything we mean goats, assumptions and other stuff. 


If you can make it to the 30 minute mark, I think that is where the goat fighting story is.




And you find out how much I hate Tyler. What a jerk. 

Milestone

Not my license plate, but my name.

My car is 9 years old. When I bought it, it had 42 miles on it. I bought it at a huge discount after a driver's ed program was finished using it. So it was a 'new' car but really not.

The dealership in my hometown has some sort of amazing deal with the high school that it will provide brand-new cars for the students to learn to drive on every summer. If you want to learn about my driver's ed experience, go here and read my diary from that adventure.

The dealership is banking that once the kids learn to drive on these fancy new cars, that their parents will then by them a similar fancy new car with the belief that it is a safe choice since this is the car the kid learned on.

Well, at the end of driver's ed, the dealership sells the cars at a pretty meaty discount because:

a) The new models have already come out.
b) No one wants to buy a car that idiots learned to drive on
c) all of the above.

The correct answer is C. So I bought my car the late summer of 2002. It's been everywhere with me. We are kind of married, my car and I.  And this winter we celebrated a milestone. 100,000 miles. (Really I should have celebrated 100,042 miles) but who's counting.

I was lucky enough to capture the moment on film.

Good luck getting those two minutes of your life back.

Here's the Cliff's Note Version:

If you didn't watch the movie, you missed all the awesome banter between me and Mike. Of course, the word awesome is subjective.

I really like Norm MacDonald.

I really like Norm MacDonald.


I know, most people don't even know what that means. Those people are stupid and younger than me.

He's my favorite Weekend Update Anchor. Frank Stallone.

My favorite Norm MacDonald movie moment is from Billy Madison, when Norm says, "I'll go put some beer in a bucket."

My brother, Brian has a super weird sense of humor. It's weird but funny. Norm is weird and funny. Brian and Norm have the same sense of humor and the exact same delivery of such so called funny verbalizations.

And you know what happened?

I think Norm MacDonald and my brother are the same person. Look.

  

Who is who?  Let me try again.

    

Pretty good this time.  If Brian smiled for pictures he'd look like Norm. I look like my brother. 

See:

      

Cheekbones people, cheekbones. 

Man, I should have adopted that stray cat, instead of picking in up rubbing it all over myself then going inside to eat pizza and watch YouTube videos with actors.  Then I could have worn it on my head and looked even more like Norm MacDonald. 

Maybe I think I am Norm MacDonald.

Frank Stallone.

ME!

{state the obvious here}

{I haven't blogged in a while....at least on this blog...emoticon}

So yeah, I was doing some accidentaly cyberstalking and realized I never have filled out one of those email surveys that were forwarded around so much in the early "00's. So I am making up my own.

1. I used to drink sloe screws in college because I couldn't remember the name of any other drinks. And they were pink.

2. I am so over girls/women being obsessed with pink. There are other colors.

3. I hated baby dolls as a child.

4. I loved Barbie dolls.

5. I have had three cats in my life all large, friendly, male grey tabby cats.

6. I had a pony

7. I invented the holiday of Fiberuary which lasts the entire month of every February and increased your awareness and consumption of Fiber.

8. Yes, I know I capitalized Fiber in the last answer.

9. I have two hula-hoops and a large enough apartment to spin them in.

10. I hate pessimists

11. I think sewing is the same thing as hot gluing

12. I played an Irish Pirate for money one whole summer. 

13. My arms do that thing. You know the one.

14. I think being a bridesmaid is a competition.

15. I hate water chestnuts.

16. Currently, there is dried ice cream on my cat's tail.

17. I don't know how it go there, I don't get along with dairy.

18. Who's eating ice cream in my apartment?

19. The Ghost of Joel Coen haunts my apartment.

20. Culprit pinpointed

21. I am producing a fringe show this year for the MN Fringe Festival.

22. So far I have written the Press Release. 

23. Is this enough self-indulgence yet?

24. Not quite.

25. Fine.

26. Straight teeth

27. Grasp exceeds my reach?

28. Spaz.

29. My brother and I invented a game called Spasm Man. It was awesome.

30. So much. 

Does this count as my Christmas Letter?

Hello, Culture of Doing Things.

Many thing are being done.

On Monday Dec 13, the play I wrote Santa Claus-tatrophe is being performed by the nufan ensemble in Chicago, IL.

Sweet right?

And the monologue Being Reasonable is being performed in Madison, WI with Forward Theatre at teh Overture Center for the Arts. This is cool because Christopher Durang and Beth Henley also submitted to this and got it. They only choose 12 entries.

It's like I am a famous playwright too.

word.

I got invited to the Monster Ball and had not a thing to wear

I have been to only a few concerts. What I consider concerts are events with people/groups/bands/dancelines that I have heard of before said concert, because I know nothing about musics. I'm sure I've seen other stuff too, right? I don't know, but I am talking about stand-in-a-big-line-with-a-printed-ticket-stuff.

Concerts I have been to:

1999 Goo-Goo Dolls-I was in college and we wore black vynl jackets because that was cool. However, since everyone was hyper vigilante about people in matching jackets since the Columbine Shooting, you can figure it out.

2000 Weird Al Yankovic-Met a boyfriend there. Al wore a lot of costumes.

2007 Rob Zombie and Ozzy Osborne-It was on Halloween and I went dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, accompanied by a friend dressed as Velma. We were not threatening enough to be at that concert. At least we got to eat bacon wrapped things in a private box thing. Rob Zombie had a lot of fire. Ozzie had a foam shooting gun and almost fell down and a crew member ran out to catch him.

2008 They Might be Giants-That was at First Avenue, that means I am hip in Minneapolis

2010 Lady Gaga-That was a show. Naomi and I were so fashiony, read more by clicking this link! I went dressed like this:

Yeah, does that eyeball necklace look familiar? You're right!  Go here! And that is shiny duck tape, good eye! Who is that guy back there?

There's Naomi! Where are her pants!!!!

I don't know.

Dinosaur eyes!

Obligatory concert shots from the inside!!!!!!!!!!

There's the opening band Semi Precious Weapons. Which I want to call Fully Precious Puss-n-Boots Frankenstein.

Best Quotes from Naomi of the night:

"I feel like I need more shit in my hair."

and "Shut up! This is the plot!" as Gaga and her dancers were acting out the story line.

Pretty awesome.

Once a spaz, always a spaz

As a spaz, I never disappoint. 

 Check out me spazzing out at my mom's birthday. You can't see it but there is a plastic turkey on that cake because I insisted my Aunt put the turkey on the cake. Nothing says Happy Birthday Mom like a tiny plastic turkey.

The spazzing doesn't stop when the candles get blown out!!!

If you got here from my Tweet about Fellatio, you're going to be disappointed.

The Infamous Turkey Sandwich Story

-Because not all of you are lucky enough to see it performed. And this is only entertaining when it is performed (like fellatio) not so much when it is read (also like fellatio). So sucks to be you (is that also a fellatio joke?)

In 3^rd grade the coolest thing to do was to hate school lunch. And in 3^rd grade almost all of my class ate school lunch. So our lunchtime was filled with complaints about the food and nibbling at the side dishes. One day lunch was turkey sandwiches. Just turkey, hanging out inside a hamburger bun: turkey sandwich. The sandwich also came with a personal size packet to mayo, for your mayonais-ing pleasure.

The turkey sandwich was the most evil of all the lunches. Everyone hated the turkey sandwiches. It was as if turkey sandwich was the reason the Challenger blew up [out dated reference]. Turkey sandwich was the oppressor of the 3^rd graders. My classmates hated turkey sandwich. Stupid turkey sandwich and its diabolical sidekick mayo. Mayo: don’t even get the 3^rd graders of Lincoln elementary school started on the dastardly deeds of mayonnaise. Turkey sandwich and evil sidekick mayo.  Combined, those two were mastervillians in crime, terror and general awfulness.  The turkey sandwich deserves so much hate, because it knows what it did.

I love turkey sandwiches.  I love turkey sandwiches with mayo. Turkey sandwiches might be my reason for living. I love turkey sandwiches.

But I also love not being the target of my much cooler classmates’ rage.

But I couldn’t not eat turkey sandwich. Here was dilemma.  I remember it was like having two Heathers on my shoulder Cool Heather who says, “Everyone hates this turkey sandwich, and I shall not eat it and be a part of everyone.” And then Turkey Sandwich Heather who says, “These are delicious turkey sandwiches and even more divine if you crack open that personal-sized packet of mayo, Heather you cannot let this sandwich go to waste.”

“Heather!” Cool Heather says to Turkey Sandwich Heather, “You cannot eat this sandwich, you will be outcast, and they will know you are different. And how dare you even entertain the thought of releasing mayo in to this equation. Mayo will seal the deal of your complete uncoolness.”

“I can’t not do it.” Turkey Sandwich Heather says back to Cool Heather. “I have to eat this sandwich; it is too good, to delicious, too fleeting. I must eat”

“Nooo!” wailed my cooler side as it was shoved aside by my lust for turkey sandwich.

I reached for the sandwich. I knew it was risky, but the danger made this turkey sandwich all the better. I ripped open the mayo dispensed its fatty, whiteness upon my already very pale turkey sandwich. And I ate.

And it was awesome.

I tired to hide from my classmates, the fact I was eating the turkey sandwich, by hunching over my lunch tray, but there was no hiding such lust and passion.

I knew they were watching me. I knew it was coming One of them said, “Gross, Heather is eating it!” I was ready for this. “Yeah, I know, it’s only because I am hungry it is really gross.” I said taking more bites of the sandwich in my mouth. “It is so gross, so gross” I emphasis, putting more mayo on my sandwich, “Yeah, if I wasn’t so hungry, I wouldn’t have to eat this gross thing.”

My classmates could see right through my lie. They swiftly inched as far away from me as possible on a crowed lunch table and continued their rants on the evils of turkey sandwich and the evil that now lived in me after I indulged in such a devilish nosh, my classmates abandoned me leaving me in my own personal leper colony of turkey sandwich lovers.

I do not regret my love of turkey sandwich. I only regret not taking the uneaten sandwiches off my classmates' plates, because I was most horrified that so many delicious turkey sandwiches would go uneaten. Like music unplayed or a prayer unprayed.

I love you turkey sandwich. And now you are all this 3^rd grader has. Turkey sandwich, will you play with me a recess?

It didn’t play with me at recess that day because it was a sandwich and I had eaten it.

Damn it. 

She bangs!!!

I am not going to blog about my haircut. But I totally am blogging about my haircut. I don't usually get haircuts. But I did today and I was pretty much given the haircut I have been trying my whole life to over come.

Hairdressers like to give my giant forehead bangs. I am sure they look fine but to me bangs just make me think of awkward growing-up-ness. I had the bangs that started on the center top of my head and came forward making a thick dense curtain just above my brow bone. It took me all of my seventh grade year to overcome those bangs until finally I got rid of them completely and have recovered from bangs vowed never to go back there again. I should have stopped her but I let Lushtastic cut away and away and ta-da, they are back.

Why is my arm doing that? Did I have an itch? That is my "I'd rather be riding Ginger" t-shirt. Look at those bangs!!!

And here is me 20 years ago with the same haircut:

And obviously the same sense of style. Bright colored t-shirts. And yes, my tongue still makes that weird shape.

Bangs.

Hugs not Bugs.

I saw a giant bug in my kitchen on Monday night. It might have been a roach. I am a clean person. cleanish. 

It scurried out from underneath my fridge (no one cleans under there). I wasn't scared. I was startled. I am not scared of bugs. Snakes, very much so. The bug ran out and parked himself against the cabinet; it was trapped between me and the wall. Instead of killing the bug, I thought "this is why I have a cat!" I picked up my cat who was conveniently laying in the kitchen window sill and used my cat as a laser pointer and pointed at the bug.  Cooper would not look at the bug. I aimed him more at the bug, "See it!" I told my cat. Cooper flopped his head to the other side, annoyed at my grip on his ribcage and the lack of floor beneath is hovering paws. "Get it!" I commanded. And the bug retreated beneath the fridge. So much for the cat. I rationalized that Cooper would be a better predator if it was a mammal, then he could smell the hot blood. Do insects have hot blood? Is my cat a vampire? He spends a lot of time in the sun. And really likes BBQ potato chips, do vampires like BBQ potato chips? I think so.

So there was a bug. So I cleaned my already(sort of) clean floor and Googled how to get rid of bugs (roaches). Borax will do it! I love Borax! Borax will also hurt my cat. I also love my cat. At least, I think it's love he moved in with me in May, so I guess we are still in the honeymoon period. He always greets me at the door, once in a while he doesn't greet me at the door. Is that the beginning of the end?

Baking soda mixed with powdered sugar will kill the bugs! I felt so diabolical as I mixed one white powder with another. Then I threw the white powder all around my fridge, like a salt circle to ward off witches, or an isolated Frigidaire snow shower. Eat the powder bug! It's not a trap.

I think I might rearrange the powder in straight lines on mirror. Just so the bug thinks its illegal to eat and therefore more desirable. 

Popularity Index

I periodically Google myself to see how my goal of becoming the top Heather Meyer search is going. Stilling finding myself in a room of other me s. I searched my name and Zombie Sweater.






I found my film on these websites:

http://www.frequency.com/video/zombie-sweater/96321

http://www.nailseacourt.com/index.php?key=heather+meyer

http://videos.wittysparks.com/id/1985673868

http://trendingtopicsblog.com/entertainment/zombie-sweater/

I have no idea what these websites are, but they seem to be something that happens to famous people. 

I am well on my way. 

Your future

The time:
Tomorrow May 25th 2010 8:00pm.

The where:
Donny Dirk's Zombie Den

The what:
Zombie Sweater Screening.

Go see the film that is even better on the biggish screen.

And it is better than the version on the internet. Because Avenue Q had it right "everyone is a little bit racist". (you thought I was going to do the internet for porn joke, didn't you? Yeah, you thought that and I tricked you, suckers)


A photo to tease you (because it is too short for a trailer)

Amazing, I know and there is life outside your apartment (more Avenue Q insight, still not internet for porn though).


Now read aloud in a friendly generic Southern accent:

"Come on down to Donny Dirk's Zombie Den, we'll be have a grand ole time and sure would love to see your pretty little sunshine face. Especially since if you didn't have come you would be sitting at home worshipping the AC and looking at internet porn. Actually I'm surprised that you even took the time away from your surfing to glance at this porn-free blog. Hell, I don't even know what we have a blog since we all 'round her know the internet is for porn"(there's your Avenue Q porn quote, geeks)


Stop watching porn for an hour and come an talk to really people. Real people who talk. And watch a ridiculous little zombie film and then later you can watch a bunch of porn.

My mom would be so proud

I never buy new socks. Nor do I buy old socks. I have had the same socks since 2003 and 2005. The white ones are from 2003, I know this because they have paint stains on them from when I was a scenic painter at Stage, St. Louis.

Stages St. Louis, of course is

Where Musical Theatre Comes Alive!


My socks have paint on them from the set of the musical 1776 (For God's sake, John, sit down!) and Big! The Musical (Too creepy to quote) and La Cage Aux Folles (Obviously).


My black socks I purchased before going to Japan in the late summer of 2005. I bought them because that is what I thought all the cool Japanese kids would be wearing: black socks.


Cool Japanese Kids


But, enough of my sock anthropology. I never buy new socks. And I know why. My socks never die because I always pair them up after washing and drying them. My socks have partners and are never lonely. My socks are not strictly monogamous. I am not that good at pairing them up but they are in an open relationship with all of the other socks. But they are segregated by color. Should I be pairing up them up differently to be progressive? eek!


Back on track.


The reason why my socks live so long it that they are never lonely. They have love and companionship. Someone to hold and talk to. They laugh, they cry, my socks have each other.


So they live longer.


In fact, love makes my socks immortal.

Juilliard has got class. I have no MFA.

Wow, in the contest of best "thanks, but no thanks" letters, Juilliard comes out on top.

They could grant MFAs to people who write letters like this. Or start a new segment in Juillard: Dance, Drama, Music and Rejection Letter writing. Masterful work like this.

I posted that rejection letter on the fridge, it makes me feel that good about myself. The letter is seamless in letting me know I have not been selected for a fellowship by gently cradling my creative ego as it drifts, not falls, back to the ground.

My self-worth is stroked as they mention my submitted play three times in the letter, each time in italics, like they think it is a real play.

They go on to say that this year was the largest pool of applicants yet and my play Residue (Oooh, ilatics) held its own among many terrific plays.

and quoting from the letter;

"Unfortunately, the constraints of a program designed to accommodate only four new writers each year require us to turn away many candidates, like you, whose emormous promise is never a question."

My enormous promise is never a question. I love you for rejecting me Juilliard.

And did you see by putting the words 'like you' in the middle of the sentence, made the whole thought more personal, as if they were writing to me and my soul.

The letter says they wish me luck in continuing to develop Residue (italics) and other plays in the future, (they think I have a future.)

They go on to let me know how much Tanya Barfield and her staff enjoyed reading Residue, (more italics). The letter finishes with thanking me for letting them consider my work. Thanking me for letting them, not simply thanking me for applying. The letter also wishes me the best of luck in my creative journey.

At the end of the letter, Tanya Barfield signed her name. I held the letter up to the light to perform some apartment light forensics on it, but it does look like an actual signature, not a photocopy, computer, robot,  spinning jenny, Pentium processor one. Pen to paper. Yeah, I am worth it.

That is how you say no, but make someone think that no is the best sounding yes in the world.


I bet Tanya Barfield has an MFA.




PS I know Juillard's program is a fellowship program not an MFA one, but for the sake of my comedy journey in this blog, I ignored that. And I don't have an MFA so how the hell should I know any better?

Found and Published: Diary of A Driver's Ed Student

I found the journal I kept during my Driver's Ed class the summer of 1996 and have transcribed it here.

Let me set the stage:

Heather is 15 years-old. She wears her hair in a ponytail everyday. Everyday. She is shy, awkward and has bad acne. She has had very little driving experience. There are many farm kids in this Driver's Ed class who have been driving tractors since birth. There are also some of the cool kids, who Heather feels insecure around. 

Driver’s Ed was structured into three parts:

Classroom-where classroom learning happened, books, reading, stuff like that

Range-The fenced are with fake streets and cones behind the school. Range was like circuit training for driving with exercises spaced all around in which a student rotated what skill they were on. Some of the exercises were; Serpentine (forward and back), Parallel Parking, Three Point Turn, Offset Street, Right Back In Turn, Angle Parking

Behind the Wheel-Three students and a teacher hit the streets of Jamestown, ND in a car with a break both the driver’s and the passenger’s side. And the big yellow triangle ‘STUDENT DRIVER” sign on top.

Here we go! 

June 24, 1996

Driver’s Ed starts tomorrow. I am so nervous, I want to go but I do not want to be embarrassed. I wish I could just get my license and not go to Driver’s Ed. I wish I knew everything about driving so I can get an A.

June 25, 1996

Well after driving on the wrong side of the road and forgetting to turn my range car off, all went pretty well. My range car is so cool; it is a white Grand Prix with the handle on the side of the window. My group for range is pretty stupid but this girl Angie is really nice.

June 26, 1996

Today was worse. I ran my range car into the fence and dented the car. I am never going to pass Driver’s Ed and I will never get my license. Behind the Wheel was ok, but why did I have to hit the fence? Why? I am the worst driver in the world.

June 27, 1996

I hate Driver’s Ed. I suck, Range was fine except I backed out of the Angle Parking the wrong way and got in trouble. When we went Behind the Wheel, we were working on multi-lanes and changing lanes. I am good at changing but when I was turning on to the multi-lanes, I was turning left and Mr. Bertcsh kept saying ‘Inside lane, inside lane,” and I thought he meant on the LEFT side inside lane so I kind of went there and he grabbed the wheel. I was so embarrassed. I almost hit a car door I didn’t see and he grabbed the wheel again. Then when I turned I accidentally jumped lanes on the turn. I was happy because I thought I was in the correct lane but I wasn’t.

Before Range today a guy said, “Are you going to hit any fences today?’ That was so mean so I said, “No, maybe you will.” I hate driving. I just want my license. I am very afraid that if I do something wrong again they will not let me drive.

June 28, 1996

Well, Driver’s Ed wasn’t so bad today, probably because today we did not drive. I felt that everyone kept looking at me because I am such a bad driver. I hope someone else is worse than me and I improve, I hope.

July 1, 1996

Okay, Driver’s Ed is getting better, but I almost hit the fence again. When I almost hit the fence there were like four cards around so now everyone makes fun of me behind my back. Behind the Wheel was okay, Mr. Bertcsh was gone so we had Mrs. Nold.

July 2, 1996

Today Driver’s Ed was okay but I went to the Offset Street wrong and the Right Back In Turn wrong. I almost hit Natalie. Nathan said to Natalie, “Hurry up, you’re slow,” and she said, “No, I’m not. I am behind Heather. She is slow.” I felt like screaming, “Well, I’m sorry, Natalie if I am not a know-it-all driver and do not meet your driving standards!” I smashed two cones and Mrs. Sunderland had to move two more cones so I would not hit them. But I did do the Serpentine well. And in Behind the Wheel, my parallel parking was okay but I hit the curb and ran the car up on it. But the other than that it was okay. All Mr. Bertcsh does is talk to his little pet Natalie. I hate her, she is a suck-up.

July 3, 1996

Today wasn’t too bad I only smashed one cone but on the Serpentine, I kept hitting one. Otherwise it was OK. Behind the Wheel was all right but it was raining. When I got in the car I forgot the shift gears and tired to go with the car in park. I think someone scratched their car on the fence. I got a headache in Range. Three days left, good.

July 8, 1996

Driving sucks. Today we had a Defensive Driving course, talk about boring. Range was OK. I only nicked one cone. Corey had to run around the range because he was talking. It was funny. We were Interstate driving today and Mr. Bertcsh got mad at me and kept saying, “Maintain your speed.” I was trying to and then he said, “That was the third time you need to maintain your speed.” Then He told me to speed up and I was going 73mph. I said, “Well, now I am speeding.” Two days left.

July 9, 1996

Today wasn’t too bad. We tested in Range. I got an 87% I think it was the lowest grade. Oh well. We did the stupid team question thing and my team is stupid. I could not remember my information so no one knew the answer and Natalie was like, “Who’s information was that yours, didn’t you read?” I hate her. In Range we had to wait before we could leave each skill and Rick Stockton was at one of mine. He was trying to teach me to peel out. Then when I was done backing through the Serpentine he said, “You are the master backer.” He talked to me a few more times, he is kind of cute. Dave Gardner is kind of cute too. Behind the Wheel was ok. I parallel parked all by myself! Lots of tests tomorrow, that is okay!

July 10, 1996

I passed! My Behind the Wheel test I got a 96%. One point off for turning my wheels in parallel parking. One point off for looking only straight ahead and two points off for having bumpy stops. On the tests in classroom today, I got A's on them all. I got a B for the course…

July 12, 1996

I passed my Driving Test! I got a 96% on it. I was so nervous but I passed. I only had to parallel park behind one car. So easy. I have a license!

July 16, 1996

Guess what I heard yesterday at Volleyball Camp! Natalie failed her driving test. She told me that she ran a red light. I told her, “Oh, I got a 96%” That’ll show her!

July 18, 1996

Natalie failed her test again. She turned in front of a car. Ha! Ha!

August 26, 1996

School starts tomorrow; I hope no one says anything about Driver’s Ed. That is the only thing I am worried about. I hope no one remembers.

August 27, 1996

No one said anything but it is only the first day so someone might say something. I hope not.

August 31, 1996

No one has said anything. I hope everyone has forgotten.

Co-Habitation at First Sight.

As soon as I entered the room, I couldn't believe how cute he was. I was staring. He was so handsome! I don't think he saw me, which I am thankful for because I looked like an idiot with my mouth hanging open. I thought he looked at me once and I did an awkward wave thing. What was I thinking? Why was I waving? He doesn't know me! What would a wave mean? Stupid me. But I am pretty sure he didn't see me. 

But I couldn't stop thinking about him.

So I went back four days later to see if he was there again. I just wanted to see if he was there again. I my goal was to be casual and non-desperate. And I was working "on top of mind" awareness, like in a 'Hey there, I am here and I am smiling at you" kind of way.  I was on a tight schedule but I thought that would help me avoid a long awkward interaction but give me enough time to say hello and introduce myself and maybe get the ball rolling.

It totally worked. It was kind of like a first date. He has a really deep voice, it was unexpected but very attractive. We have a lot in common. We are both curious, at ease with new people and fun. He has really great green eyes and some gray hair, which I like. Before I left a friend of his gave me his contact information. I didn't know what to do with it, I wasn't usually that forward and I wasn't super sure I wanted to go through with it. 

But three days later, I went back again. We made eye contact and I learned that a lot of people were interested in him but some girls though he was too fat and old. 

So I asked him to move in with me. It was totally spontaneous. One second I was editing a film project the next I was on the phone with my landlord approving the new roommate.

I never expected it to happen this fast. I mean, I had only known him a week and a half. We had had two 'dates." I didn't even know his health history! And now he was in my bed! 

And he's already so comfortable that he pees with the door open. 

Romance is dead. 

And he totally hogs the bed. 

He's still pretty cute. 

Top of Queue: Adam Richman

I have a crush on Adam Richman, which is slightly more sane than the crush that lead to the great Fake Date with a Semi-Married Man of 2009.

But back to Adam Richman, the host of Travel Channel's Man v. Food show. Adam is enthusiastic, friendly, social and a culinary adventurer. I am also those things. He's appealing in a man-who-can-eat-giant-cheeseburgers kind of way. But he's not a bow(e)lful of jelly, even though his job is to eat massive amounts of saturated fats. Does that make sense? Probably not, Google him, you'll see.

http://www.travelchannel.com/TV_Shows/Man_V_Food/About_The_Show/Meet_Adam_Richman

And he has a Master's degree from the Yale School of Drama. I tried to get a Master's degree from the Yale School of Drama and they gave me a fancy letter saying 'there were many qualified applicants this year...' instead. I'll frame that and put that on my wall; Resumebuilder!

But I think I might be mainly attracted to his job. The premise of his show is to eat all the crazy challenges that restaurants invent like 'eat this giant burger made of a live goat in two minutes' or "eat these wings covered in battery acid for a t-shirt." He takes on those challenges. He doesn't always win.

Secretly, now publicly, I want to have that show. I would lose a lot, but I would win more than expected.

Case in point:

I recently went to New Orleans and had two goals; to eat a muffaletta sandwich and drink a sazerac. A sazerac is made like this:

• 3 oz rye whiskey
• 3/4 oz simple syrup
• Peychaud bitters to taste
• absinthe or absinthe substitute
• lemon twist for garnish

http://cocktails.about.com/od/s/r/szrc_cktl.htm

And a muffaletta:

1 10" round loaf Italian bread with Sesame seeds
1 Recipe Olive Salad
1/4 lb Genoa Salami
1/4 lb Ham
1/4 lb Mortadella
1/4 lb Mozzarella
1/4 lb Provolone
http://neworleanscuisine.blogspot.com/2005/03/muffuletta-recipe.html


In the resturant, I was given a look when I ordered the sazerac, a look that said, "you are going to need to be carried out of here, little lady.' And then when I ordered a whole not half muffeletta sandwich, I got another look that said, "Out of towner, you know nothing and now I have to carry a sandwich out here that is heavy and you will not finish."

I noticed those looks. And knew what the unspoken challenge/doubt was. I had to eat that entire sandwich and drink my drink of demons.

The sandwich was huge, think about a football size loaf of bread and stuff it full of rich meats, cheeses and olives. Very filling.

And the sazerac made me do the head shake everytime I drank it.

I cut the sandwich in quarters and began eating, I could tell each time the waiter came out to check on us he was checking on my progress on my mountain range of sandwich. Soon I was down to one last quarter of sandwich, and I was full. So I downed the rest of my sazerac and put the last bit of sandwich in my purse. I didn't need to eat until I was uncomfortable, but I did hide the sandwich so the server would think I had eaten it all. And he did, he was so excited that he told me, 'Rarely does anyone order a whole let alone finish the  whole muffaletta, I (the server) can't even make it through half."

I knew I was sightly fraudulent, but I know my abilities and I made his day. And he wasn't ugly.

Back to my eating challenges. When I went to Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville in Cozumel.

Here is me and my mom! We are pirates!

(I know it is upside down, turn your laptop over, dummy)

After the pre-dinner chips and watery ketchup salsa were brought out, I asked for the spicer salsa that was offered but not brought out (because my mom is afraid of spices, but she did tell me she uses oregano.). The server looked at me as if I was a wet kitten and said, "We use jalapenos in that ma'am.'

My pale skin shone brightly and my northern prairie woman features tightened: this was another, underestimating challenge.

"Bring it out." I said, knowing now I would not only have to eat the salsa, but eat all of the salsa and wear the bowl as a dental dam. (too much?)

The salsa did show up and it was very spicy. And I ate all of it.

Here I am before the salsa and in the middle of a festive drink

Not because I was that hungry, but because I was that proud.




Naomi thought this blog should just be a photo of Adam Richman with kissy lips all over it. Obviously, I am way deeper than that and I don't know how to use Photoshop. 

How to Fashion show: Part 2: What to do after you are dressed.

The doors to 1st Avenue opened at 8pm. We arrived at at 7:15pm to a line of three jeans and winter-coat clad Minnesotans. We thought we might have been in the wrong line, did you see what we were wearing? (Scroll down to the previous blog if you didn't). But maybe they were going to get tickets and then go change into something spectacular, what do I know? I am a pretend fashionista. We wait ten minutes and watch the eager Twins fans try to find there way to the new Twins stadium. They all stare at us (again, hello short skirts in magenta and orange stripe!). I finally found out from the winter-weather prepared co-line waiters that tickets are being sold until 8pm. Then why were we in line?

So where to fashionistas go to before the biggest event of Minnesota Fashion Week?

The Hard Rock Cafe, of course.

On our way there, some lost Twins fans ask us how to get to the new stadium. Here is the script, read it along with friends:

Mid-Forties Blond Woman:
Where is the Twins game?

Me in orange mini-dress:
I saw a lot of people in Twins shirts go that way. (pointing west)

Mid-Forties Blond Woman in Black V-Neck Sweater:
How do you get there?

Me in orange mini-dress and turquoise jewelry:
 I would just follow those other groups of people in Twins shirts.

Mid-Forties Blond Woman in Black V-Neck Sweater and diamond earrings:
But how do you get there?

Me in orange mini-dress, turquoise jewelry and major eyeliner:
I don't know, I am not going there.
(Gestures to outfit)

Woman wanders away to ask the traffic cop, he waves her off, or he might have been waving traffic through.

Lesson learned: Everyone assumes you are going to the Twins game. Even when dressed like fancy hookers. Wait, my fault, everyone should have been assuming we were going to the Twins game.

Hard Rock Cafe it is.

Yes, they still exist and they still try to sell you T-shirts. We were very fancy with out potato skins and tall drinks. Most fashiony.

We finally got to the show, ticketed it up and Naomi got her photo taken by the Vita.MN crew. (check it out http://www.vita.mn/tag_detail.php?d=view_responses&show=all&tag_forum_id=1859)

This is the photo I took of Naomi!

The CityPages took our photo, but only after we signed up to win Lady Gaga tickets. And I am pretty sure the photographer tells everyone she likes their outfits. 


We knew somebody there! Madde! We felt cool. The we visited the restroom as fashionable women do. I accosted a designer I sort of knew! She remembered me, I liked her stuff SilverCocoon (http://silvercocoon.com/), really cool felt accessories, I want one of the giant bracelets!


Then the show started. 

BlueSky Blackout was the first band and I liked them the most. The fashions were..fashions. I don't know anything about fashions so I will just call them like I see them. I thought the first show was called "I am a skinny vampire" followed by "GARDENING" and then I couldn't see anything so I found the live Twitter feed monitor and spent the next two collections getting my tweets and fashion tips on the big screen. Then I saw the one with the hats, but since I could only see the models from the neck up I will call it "Hat Party 2010." We soon found were some 'fashiony" girls were sitting but could only see there behinds when the kneeled on their chairs so the rest of the show was "Back of Slacks and Heels."


Then we got bored and left. 

And went to Cold Stone Creamery and got smoothies. We should have gotten ice cream but smoothies seemed more fashiony. 


Voltage: Fashon Amplified.  Done. 

Another job that uses my enthusiasm for enthusiasm

Do you love supporting people dreams?

Yes!

Do you love helping out crazy ideas?

Yes!

Do you love telling people yes?

Yes!

Then become a Venture Capitalist, all you need is a love of new ideas, a passion for startups and a bunch of money to give to those new idea people.

So looks like I need to be this job, the only job that requires you have a bunch of money before you get to be it.

I think.

Where is the MFA program in becoming a Venture Capitalist?

I wrote this a while ago and found it today!

June 32, 2009

The Internet just informed me that my epic High School/Grade school/Beyond crush was married in January. He is married. This really affects me. Why? I don’t know. I guess I always thought of him as a safe fantasy. But now he is married. I felt this way when Miss Eternal-Bags-Under-Her-Eyes took him to the prom. Why does the Internet know everything? Not that I ever really talked to this guy other than stammering self-consciously in 11th grade English class during an assignment about what would one need on a desert island. I said a swimming pool. I also remember having the fly on my black corduroy pants be down next to him during a movie in 10th grade and trying to figure out a subtle way to zip my fly back up, realizing now he wasn't ever looking at me and I could have just zipped it up and no one would have ever know but now I am telling the internet. I feel like I just missed some sort of deadline, like had I Googled him earlier, he would never have gotten married and could stay forever in my head as the guy I totally could have been with if I really wanted to. But he is married. I never would have guessed it. But I should have figured it out I have excellent taste. But I am a little bit vulnerable since I am coming off the best friend’s wedding thing where I was the most attractive and least married of all the bridesmaids and the only person that wanted to dance with me was the gay friend of the groom. I just wanted some Internet comfort food, some gazing at my untouchable crush and then he goes and gets married. Who am I to pine for now?

This is worse than my apartment manager thinking I have morning sickness when really I am doubled over from an intolerance to the dairy in the Caribou Coffee chai tea.

April 3, 2010

So maybe High School crush's marriage didn't work out....