Parker Posey

I've been pretty tired lately. Seems that life has been non-stop. I'm not complaining though, don't get me wrong. Life is great. But sometimes, when I need to unwind and reflect, I think of the DQ. Just drive in and get a coke... if you're thirsty.

Parkey Posey is one of the best comedians of our day. At least in my opinion. And here are a few reasons why.

Celebrity Jeopardy

Brings me back to the good 'ole days of SNL. Suck it, Trebek!

Matchmaker

So I'm at the bus stop this morning when I notice my neighbor also waiting. Not my noisy upstairs neighbors, don't worry. This one lives to the left of me, in the next basement. She's a very sweet older woman. Slightly crazy. Definitely thinks I'm "just a kid." But that's ok. She doesn't make any noises at 4 am, so she passes in my book.

I say good morning. We exchange pleasantries and wait together for the next 42 to roll by. When it rains in DC, as it did this morning, not only does everything slow down, but Metro seems to decrease the amount of working buses. Needless to say, the first one to stop was way too packed to board. So my neighbor and I waited together. In the ensuing conversation, both at the stop and aboard the next available bus, I learned that we have had much more in common than I thought.

Turns out, she knows my old boss. And she works next to the house where my old boss lives. And, to my embarrassment, she knew of that fateful incident in 2005 when I broke my boss's shower while "house sitting" when my boss was in New Orleans. I swear to you that all I did was turn the knob. Gently.

Anyway, as I came to realize who my neighbor was for the very first time in more than two years, I also realized that I had heard of her before. My boss had once given me a card with a name on it and the word, "matchmaker." I was single, and apparently in need of a match. Well, as the pieces slowly came together on our trek down Connecticut avenue, I realized that my neighbor was the matchmaker.

How cool is that? My neighbor is a matchmaker! All this time, and I had no idea that A) I knew who she was and B) that my potential perfect mate was perhaps a knock and an afternoon tea away!

Don't worry, I plan to work this shit. "Oh, what's that you have in your hand? Are those new matches? Can I, maybe, take a little peak? You need some yard work done? Allow me. Don't worry, it's just a favor! Oh, what's that, the phone number of the most eligible bachelor in DC? Oh, don't mind me as I enter it into my cell phone..."

Haha. It's like fate has been two feet away from me for two years.

I'm just joking about wanting to see her matches. But I will say that this morning's bus ride taught me something. You don't know what is under your nose until you look. Not only is my neighbor the only matchmaker in DC, but she has led a completely fascinating life. And I can't wait to learn more. Life is short. And people are interesting.

New Year's, I Guess

Oh, New Year's. New Year's, New Year's, New Year's. You know what I say? I say screw it. I don't believe in resolutions. But I guess I believe in reflection. But, then again, I don't believe that reflection should happen just at New Year's. Or at any one time really. Confused? Yeah, me too.

People talk about the pressure of New Year's Eve. Where to go. What to wear. Who to see. Big club versus small party. Wine versus beer. The good champagne or not. DD or cab. Silver or gold.

And then comes the pressure of New Year's Day and the resolution. Finances. Fitness. Jobs. Order. Security. Personal goals. AHHHH!

And then it's January 2nd. And you're thinking, whoa. What just happened? It can be a real rush of adrenalin. And then it's over.

As I struggle to write 2007 on file names and checks (and I'll probably still be struggling well into 2010; I never seem to catch on to the year), I can't help but think that the change in year is somewhat meaningless. Life doesn't necessarily happen in 365-day increments. Life is a continuous flow. I try to reflect, set goals and think about important things all year. Not just on some hazy hungover federal holiday.

However, the New Year's phenomenon does have its benefits. It's the perfect excuse to party with friends, call people you haven't in a while, wish loved ones health & happiness... and be with someone special. I'll take that excuse any day.

So here's to life. Here's to love. And to continuous good things.

Giant Squid, Merry Christmas

Holy crap people! Not sure if you've heard, but researchers in Japan just filmed and captured a giant squid. You know, like a 20,000 Leagues type squid. Freeeeeaky.

Now scientists believe they are "more plentiful" than originally thought. Awesome. I'd like to point out that it was 24 feet long. That is about four people (or five people if you come from an Italian family) put together. Furthermore, the biggest giant squid on record was 60 feet. 60 FRICKIN feet. That is one huge ass piece of calamari.

What irks me most about this whole "capture" scheme is that A) they used a smaller squid as bait, B) it put up a fight and was hurt, C) it was not fully grown and D) it died.

Now I ask you. For what? It is the holiday season for crying out loud. I check cnn.com, innocently procrastinating on the last day of work before vacation, and BAM! Giant god damn squid. I may have nightmares. Not only are these things freakishly huge, but the image of human beings wrestling with it, as it struggles to sustain its short life, doesn't exactly scream Merry Christmas. Plus, they used a smaller baby squid as bait? WTF. Are squid such horrible creatures that they would eat their own young? Or are they that hungry? Maybe we should feed the squid instead of killing them. Here, big freaky squid. Here is some food. There you go. Now that's the holiday spirit.

But no.

Now I will live in fear every time I leave my apartment. I'll sleep with one eye open.

Message to giant squid:

Now hear this, giant squid! You will not win this battle! Your prehistoric freaky size will not scare me into a life of solitude in some land locked state! I will see the ocean again! And by god I will swim in it. I'm not saying I will ever swim anywhere remotely near Tokyo (I mean, I'm no idiot), but I will be swimming! Also, giant squid friend, if you see what looks like a boat overhead, run. Or swim. Or whatever it is that you do! Humans are not your friends. As much as I fear you, I respect you for your power. And from this sense of respect I feel I must warn you against our evil ways which we claim should be undertaken for the sake of "research." Just stay away from the surface. Oh, and stop eating little tiny versions of yourself. That's just sick.

The End. May the holiday season be a happy one for you. May you receive the gifts of love, happiness, good health and humor. And may you not live in fear of freakishly huge aquatic monsters.

Giant squid being captured with baby squid bait:












Characters from 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, talking about how freaky and scary giant squid are:










Final thought:
"Think of it. On the surface there is hunger and fear. Men still exercise unjust laws. They fight, tear one another to pieces. A mere few feet beneath the waves their reign ceases, their evil drowns. Here on the ocean floor is the only independence. Here I am free!" --- Captain Nemo

Flow

I watched Hustle & Flow over the weekend, and I have to say, two thumbs up! Way up? Not so much. But they are up. Both of them.

Despite winning the award for the song "It's Hard Out There for a Pimp," I think the story exalted itself above your typical pimps 'n hos tale. It was a story about a dream... and a very unlikely dreamer. And I loved that. Too often we get sucked into the everyday routine and we don't allow ourselves to dream. Wanna be a rapper? Go for it. Wanna get your PhD? Do it. Wanna quit this city and travel around the world on a credit card? What better time than now.

Don't get me wrong. I don't condone shooting people to get this dream of yours. Shooting is bad. Exploiting women? Bad. But if you get the chance, I say follow your dream. Life is short, right?

Also, I have to comment on the dialogue in this movie. I consider myself to be pretty cool, pretty hip. You know. I listen to rap. I listen to R&B. But the first 20 minutes of this movie? No frickin' clue. I considered putting on the subtitles. But then I thought to myself, no! You can do this. Go with the "flow." And I did. Yay for me. But a warning to the rest of you... the ebonics are killer. I guess, despite my best attempts, I am white after all. Oh well. There's always hope for the next life.

Perspective

A few people noticed that I've neglected to write much lately. Thanks for noticing, by the way. It's nice to know you are liked, even if it's only by two people. Ha.

Life has been crazy, as they say. Lots of ups and downs. The ups are almost euphoric. And the downs can be debilitating. It's been so extreme that I considered the possibility of being bipolar. But then I remembered that the periods of mania vs. depression tend to last longer than a few hours. At least that's what my Intro to Psych book said.

It's in the down periods when I find it hard to write much. It's easier to watch a movie, go the gym or, I'll admit it, drink. Anything to keep my mind occupied.

This has been a great coping strategy for quite some time. Repression, baby. Gotta love it.

Until this morning.

I received an email from someone I knew very briefly. In it, she described her very sudden struggle with cancer. It was one of those shockers that made you say things like, "Why the good people? Why someone so young? Really, of all people. It just doesn't seem fair."

But as I read this email, I realized that she is doing great. Beyond great actually. She has a very promising prognosis and a wonderful family. But more than that, she probably has the strongest, most positive attitude of anyone I know... cancer or not. And I say that in complete honesty.

Her optimism, enthusiasm and gratitude made me stop and think. It's not just that I might be upset about things that don't matter much in the end. It's not just that. Because I believe that many of these things do matter. But I realized that by dwelling on these things, I could be missing other, possibly fantastic things. Like, for example, the number of times I've used the word "things" in this paragraph.

Her story also made me contemplate the whole "it happens for a reason" theory. But that's another post, for a later date. For now, I want to thank this person for putting life in perspective for me. Perfect timing. I know you have a lot of support and inspiration already, so thanks for being that for me today. You rock, as always.

You Proud Confection!

Oh, yes, there is more!

Maya Angelou for Butterfinger

Froot Loopies!

Oh, man. I've been searching for this SNL skit forever. Finally, as I was procrastinating getting dressed this morning, I found it. No disrespect to Maya Angelou. I view this as a "tribute."

Maya Angelou for Froot Loops

Go Home, Weird Upstairs People

Living in the city has its ups and downs. A big up is the energy here. Another big up would be easy access to fun bar-like activities. A big down? Definitely having upstairs neighbors.

I try to be calm. I try to understand. I mean, everyone has to walk around, right? Some people walk. And that's fine. Sometimes people wear shoes. I get that. Sometimes people move furniture. Also understandable. But Jesus! Don't tell me you have to move furniture at 4 in the morning.

I've been dealing with these people for two years now. The great thing is that they are not always here. Apparently they have several homes. I say, "Good for you! Why don't you spend more time at them? DC isn't that great. Go! Travel! Explore the world while you still have time!"

But no. They've decided to spend more time in DC these past few months than ever before. Wonderful.

If they had a normal schedule, that'd be so much better. But they get up at frickin' 4 in the morning. Have I mentioned that? And they seem to partake in major remodeling at that time, which, you know, makes perfect sense. I think Martha Stewart once said, "If you decide to remodel your apartment, try doing it at 4 a.m. There is no better time to move big pieces of furniture. And you should do this everyday."

Also, they definitely do not have rugs. In some buildings, there are rules about the percentage of floor space that must be covered by rugs. But not here. Oh well. Note to others: rug coverage rules are key.

If they were normal people, it'd also be so much better. But they're not. The man is abnormally tall and creepy. The woman is petite and timid. They never talk to each other. And they always wear the same clothes. The same white clothes. Like they are in a cult. A cult that pays them to live in a cool DC apartment and stomp around like it's their job.

One time I wrote what I thought was a very nice note. Taped it on their door. Nice envelope and all. The process was primarily pointless in the end. There's been no change in the incessant stomping. So now I've resorted to the baseball bat / ceiling technique. If you don't know what that is, let me know. I'd be glad to relay the strategy to you.

All I can say is thank god for earplugs, a floor fan and a newly discovered "soothing sounds" CD, all of which help me sleep.

In the past year, I've achieved a new sense of calm in most things. Sometimes I think, what would Buddhism say about this. A true Buddhist doesn't get riled by much. You cannot control external happenings. You can only control yourself.

So I try to control myself and ignore the banging and the stomping in the middle of the night. I try to just let it go.... chalk it up to a couple of weird-ass people with weird-ass schedules. But, you know what? When I can't sleep, it's nearly impossible to stay grounded. Go be weird somewhere else! Why here? Why me? Go home, weird upstairs people!