Things I Am Over!

A good thing

Dear Martha,

I'm so grieved by the loss of your beloved Kublai Khan Paw Paw Chow Chow Chow. There just are no words for the loss of a pet, and I'm sure it's something that you're just not ready to talk about.

So let's talk about it because I have a question I fear only you can answer, a very typical dilemma that requires your professional input. My cat Cooper is almost 5 years old, and at current weight the shape of a medium-sized dog. I would say Jack Russel terrier size, maybe even Boston terrier, he's most definitely the size of some terrier type. He is the size of a dog, Martha, is what I'm getting at.

I've done all I can to curb his weight including limiting his food supply (which wasn't met with kind reaction) and buying several toys that he would play with one day and the next claim to be freaked the fuck out by them and run and hide when they were presented. My feeling is this fear of toys is an act he uses to gain sympathy and handfuls of Pounce treats, which I give him without fail or limit.

My question is simple: while a massive heart attack is imminent for Cooper because he eats food all day long and refuses to burn off any of his blubber, I need to start making preparations for the day when perhaps he's no longer waking me up at 4am to be fed. Pretty soon, his heart is going to Chris Farley on him and I'm not going to notice because I'll think he's just collapsed in his food bowl like he does every night after gorging himself of Fancy Feast Elegant Medleys Florentine Tuna.

So tell me, if you can, do you have a pattern for this awesome doggie body bag you showed off on your blog? It looks like the perfect fit, and the ribbon is a delicate yet striking touch. If you don't have a pattern for it, can you at least suggest a traditional and durable fabric I can use to make one?

Attention drivers:

If you are driving in front of me and, suddenly! A firetruck comes blazing down the road in the opposite direction with sirens flashing! Guess what? Because you are on the other side of a divided road and there is no way that firetruck is going to jump the median to get someone more quickly, YOU DON'T HAVE TO FUCKING PULL YOUR CAR OVER, ASSHOLE! Surprise!!

Note To Self:

Chances are when someone writes you an email and tells you "Good luck with the joke," you are probably not being very funny.

Dear Makers Of Network Primetime Crime Dramas,

Please stop ending each show with a slow motion montage set to the Leonard Cohen song Hallelujah. It was bad enough when they used the song in Shrek, but it's even worse when you try and convince me that the notion running through the minds of well-dressed crime scene investigators is, "But you don't really care for music, do you?" An enormous green swamp thing sitting down to a lonely dinner while the song plays in the background almost makes more sense than cops in slow motion any day.

Thank You.

P.S. COPS DO NOT MAKE ENOUGH MONEY TO DRESS SO WELL.

I Wish I Could Quit You.

Dear Internet, I'm going to have to quit you. That isn't entirely true, but you've made me pretty mad this week. Mostly, because I've had to have you in my lap for the past 139 hours straight, and it's rotted my brain like no 80's sitcom or scrambled porn on late night cable ever did.

I've had an interesting week of major accomplishments, stuff like all my life dreams unfolding themsleves effortlessly and setting up a nice cottage in my heart, and then inviting me in for tea and crumpets and asking me how my day was. Do you see? Rotted brain. To me that entire sentence made so much metaphorical sense I almost think I should publish it as a book of poems. To you it's just like, Wha??

And you're not the only one. I have forgotten how to interact with human beings. I can type pretty fucking fast, just you try to keep up with me over IM. But in person? Consider:

First: I go to the shoe store on my lunch break. The woman asks me what size I wear. I stand there, with nose and forehead a'rumpled, and say, "Uhhhhhhhh. Size...feet size? What size are my feet? Is that what you're asking?"

She looks at me bewildered, then tells me to follow her. I do so, except my legs are crossed because I've been standing there like I'm trying to stop pee from running down my legs - standing like that for no reason - and my entire body twists and turns until I crash into a wall of size 7 shoes. Boxes slide from the top shelf to the floor, the woman says, "OH! Are you ok!?!!!!!"

I stand myself upright and say, "Pssshh. Yeah? Are you ok?" I stumble down the aisle to the slingbacks.

Second: A dude comes into my office to pick something up. I've kind of been waiting for him, but had lost track of time because of this affair I'm having with the internet, and also the tea with my life dreams. He opens the door, says, "Great, is this for me?" and picks up some papers.

I see him and suddenly start acting like he's just come home from the war, and my voice raises 90 decibels to an earth-shattering howl as I say, "YES!!! THAT'S YOURS!!! THAT'S ALL YOU NEEDED RIGHT!!! THERE IT IS!!!"

He is very subtle about the way his eyes grow large and he kind of shakes his head at the sheer VOLUME I am speaking to him in, but I notice it all the same. This, however, doesn't stop me from saying, "THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" as he backs out of my office.

Hi, Help, Thanks.

This might sound really weird, but I need an attorney. Specifically one well-versed in self-employment/independent people-type issues. If you know of one, please pass on their name, thanks ever so much.

UPDATE: Holy crap I love you people. 20 minutes. 20 minutes!

An Open Letter to Shannon Horrell.

Dear Shannon;

As you may recall, when we were driving to Reno on Labor Day weekend and got stuck in traffic, we stopped reluctantly at that Burger King for lunch after finding no other source of nourishment in a 10 miles radius. I specifically asked you if you had tried Burger King's new chicken fries which are pieces of chicken shaped and cooked like French fries. Since I do not often eat at fast food establishments I had not had an opportunity until that day to try this new concoction from Burger King, and I wasn't sure if you had either.

You replied that you had tried them, and when I asked you how they tasted, you shrugged your shoulders and said, "They were ok, they're just chicken strips." Keeping this information in mind, I did not order the chicken fries that day or any day since. Even though I thought that the chicken fries looked really good and I would eventually like to try them, I never came into an opportunity to order them until today. Going against your recommendation, I bought a 9-piece chicken fries meal and it was the most amazing thing I had ever eaten.

Shame on you, Shannon, for telling me that these were just chicken strips! For keeping me from having them all this time! For all I know you've been secretly hoarding chicken fries for yourself and telling anyone you come in contact with that they don't taste good so you can gorge yourself on them in a secret lair made of chicken fries ! The tango of taste my tongue did with every bite of a chicken fry left me speechless and astounded that such flavor was made by the hands of man. Surely these chicken fries are the food of the gods!

I do not know if I will be able to recover from this obvious violation of my trust in you, nor if I will ever again seek your opinion for something as important and meaningful as whether or not a certain fast food item is worth trying or not. Perhaps if you ask sincerely for my forgiveness and offer to purchase a lifetime supply of chicken fries for me, I might be able to reconsider this obvious blemish on our friendship.

Sincerely, and with a belly begging to be filled with chicken fries,

Sarah "Chicken Fries" Hatter

Attention Everyone: I. Get. IT!

Look people, I have seen  the new OK Go video that's circulating out there. Yes, I have seen it. Yes, that one, the new one, the one with them outside and with the dancing and the backyard. I don't need you to send it to me again, nor do I need to read your weblog post about it, but just to get you off my back I'll go ahead and write something about it here. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW???

Frankly, I am entirely unimpressed with the spontaneous dancing video, as much as I am with the "pop star basks in solitude after being mobbed by fans" video. I know Hillary Duff has a busy schedule and all, but I don't need to be reminded of it with a black and white shot of her lonely head propped up against the window of her town car. Right, right, she never has time to herself because she's always entertaining us, I GET IT. Everyone please understand that I won't ever feel sorry for Kid Rock, even if Sheryl Crow cheated on him in some hillbilly gang bang in Arkansas, I still don't care about his feelings.
 

I'm a fan of OK Go, I'm just not a fan of boring things. I don't understand what the big hoopla about four men dancing in a backyard is about when Fatboy Slim took 20 people and a camcorder to a local mall and had them dance around a fountain almost ten years ago. For me to respond to this new video with an ounce of enlightenment would be for me to say that time Lindsay Lohan filmed her video on the top of a building with a helicopter zooming around was totally hip and irreverent, and G-N-R totally didn't do the same thing in '89.

Yes yes, we're all excited for the new OK Go album. Applause, applause, why aren't they clever, I cannot wait to see them in concert. Let's leave it at that, mmmkay?

A Humble Moment

Many thanks to everyone and their mother who used all their available contacts to try and get me a job. I appreciate the support from strangers, the good words put in for me, and the references given on my behalf.

Now I have to go wake up at dawn to flat iron my hair so it looks presentable for my first day of work.

Dear Window Dressers At Nordstrom;

Look, I don't claim to know all the hot new drugs out there that you kids are spending your 401K's on these days, but I need you to do me a favor and lay off the recreational use during work hours. I'm sick and tired of walking by your store windows and being greeted by the white faced, hairless zombies you call "mannequins." These things are fucking frightening, and while I understand that you're attempting to be "minimalistic" and "modern" and "cutting edge," your displays pretty much reek of "ugly" and "scary" and "what the fuck are they thinking."

Don't get me wrong, I'm a sucker for good design. I just don't buy into the avant-garde, especially when it's being milled out by some group of "designers" who probably can't describe their design process without using the words, "like," "post-modern" or "Christo." I'm sorry to break it to you, Window Dressers at Nordstrom, but choosing to button only the last two buttons of an Oxford shirt and still exposing a brushed copper belt buckle does not a post-modernist make you. It makes you a yuppie, and probably really annoying to shop with.

I've seen your creepy window style at tons of other stores, from Ann Taylor to J Crew to Gap. They're all doing the same thing, modeling khakis and t-shirts on weird human-esque shells, their would-be shapes and curves tucked behind tightly pinned garments and cinched baggy jeans. All the windows of all these stores have grown opaque with faceless, hairless humanoids and I can trace all these stupid displays back to you, Window Dressers at Nordstrom, and it's annoying.

Maybe this is some political stance for you guys, subtly commenting on how bland Nordstom's brands are by displaying them on the shoulders of nothing more than a 4-limbed hanger. That kind of statement would make sense, it would actually be pretty clever, but we both know any kind of political message is well beyond your realm of reason, and now you can't stop thinking about inventing a 4-limbed hanger you can start using in your window displays.

That would be a good idea; I mean, you're not using eyes or mouths or HAIR anymore, why even use a head on mannequins? Fuck it - why even use hands or feet? You never put shoes on mannequins anyway! They splay their toe-less Barbie feet against their mannequin stands carelessly, why even burden them with a foot arch at all!? I say, don't stop the dehumanizing with the face and shape of a mannequin, why not get really creative and do away with trying to imitate the human form all together?

Why not start using stuffed gorillas you got on loan from the natural history museum? Or perhaps a carved giraffe or two from Cost Plus? Or maybe you could even just forget using the form of anything to display clothes and just start filling windows with giant tubs of clothes like they do at Costco? Take that back to your next "designers" meeting, Window Dressers at Nordstrom, and tell them the idea comes from the girl who just puked all over your zombie mannequin and then lit in on fire.