Live! At the Whiney-A-Go-Go!

September 30, 2006

Frickin’ Meatsuit’s Gettin’ Me Down!

Filed under: life — letslucky @ 6:53 am

Laugh if you must, but I’m feeling ooooolllld.

Last week I did something terribly wrong, like inhale or something, and pulled a muscle in my back. Pulled muscle. No big deal. Ibuprofen and rest for a few days and I’ll be good as new!

But no. I’m still not able to bend down to pick stuff up off the floor, I walk like an old man, and “twist and shout” has taken on an entirely new meaning. Old.

Sometimes it feels like I’m trapped in a hundred-mumble pounds of rotting putrid flesh that I have to drag with me as I go through life. Maybe I’d rather be a brain in a jar. But then I couldn’t wear cute shoes.

Then again, while my back hurts this much I can’t wear most of my cute shoes anyway.
Plus a brain in a jar might have trouble doing some of the things I want to do before I die anyway, like sea kayaking or bungee jumping. Can you imagine a jarred brain skydiving? Ker-splat!

So instead I’ll just have to concentrate on the good stuff, like the dermatologist’s nurse who complained that my skin is too good for me to be in any of their clinical trials. Apparently I have good skin, now that I’ve found a way to (usually) stop breaking out like a teenager. Good skin! Thanks mom!

Meanwhile, here I remain. On my back, not moving.

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September 15, 2006

Crochet cacti

Filed under: life — letslucky @ 6:08 am

crochet hyperbolic cactii

crochet hyperbolic cactii,
originally uploaded by Margaret Wertheim.

These are not mine (sob!) but are simply stunning and beautiful examples of what you can do with crochet when you break away from afghans and start to look at the yarn itself, and what it might evoke. I want to make stuff like this when I grow up. They’re from the Institute For Figuring, displayed at the LA County Fair.

September 14, 2006

Tshirt Surgery!

Filed under: life — letslucky @ 11:53 am

I have great fondness for piles of rags. Specifically, for remaking them into special unique things, preferably things I can wear.Take the simple Tshirt. OK, take a couple dozen Tshirts, in varying degrees of fading and age, in a wide range of colors, in designs from blank to hand-lettered to weirdass Russian toothpaste ads.

You think this looks like what’s left over after a yard sale. I think it looks like some fun new clothes. And there are others who think the way I do — lots of books are coming out lately, like 99 Ways to Cut, Sew, Trim, and Tie Your T-Shirt into Something Special or Tease, but my favorite is Generation T. That’s the book that inspired me to throw a Tee Party, in which Tshirts were disassembled and rearranged into some fun new clothes.

It was pretty easy too, and doing it in a group was lots more fun and inspiring than having these projects in my mending pile. When things seemed to go wrong, someone was there to suggest a workaround. When the color choices didn’t mesh, someone would pick a different color to make everything work out. Plus we consumed tea and things that start with T, like Toast, Turning Leaf wine and Teddy Grahams.

Anyway, in the span of a few hours and a minimum of cursing, I made three skirts, one almost-finished shirt, and one barely-started shirt. Here’s the evidence.

The summary: FUN.

Circle Tee Skirt

Circle Tee Skirt

Godet Tee Skirt

Godet Tee Skirt

Lace-trimmed Tee Skirt

Lace-trimmed Tee Skirt

September 6, 2006

Am I doing something really really stupid?

Filed under: life — letslucky @ 9:58 am

I’m often pretty paranoid about what I let people know about me. Altho controlling information is always fraught, I do it all the time anyway. Especially with personal information, like my mood.

And yet here’s this blog where I’m laying it all out, raw.

Am I doing something really really stupid? Will this blog come back to bite me in the ass? Do I have to do it anyway?

I pretend to be an artist sometimes, and introduce myself as “I’m a writer!” when really all I write are technical manuals. But still. I’m driven to confession and catharsis and spilling my guts here. Is this what I’ll leave behind because I’m not capable of anything coherent, like, say, an actual book?

Heard this on the radio today and it’s just what I’m feeling. But with better words, because they’re from an actual artist.
2 AM and I’m still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it’s no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to

And I feel like I’m naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you’ll use them, however you want to

— Anna Nalick, “Breathe (2am)”

September 2, 2006

I don’t do well with liquids

Filed under: life — letslucky @ 6:52 pm

Although I lived at high altitude for a couple of years, I never quite got used to the idea of liquids exploding in my hands. This is an old issue, going back to at least high school. Superglue not coming out of the tube? SQUEEZE HARDER.

I glued myself to many many things.

But tonight I was in a shoe-polishing frenzy. The scene became rather comical, as the spurty substance this time was a bottle (with dauber) of black shoe edge dressing. Black. Liquidy. And not coming out very well. So what do I do? SQUEEZE HARDER.

Um, bad idea.

Edge dressing is designed to be nice and black. And liquidy for easy application. Spurty, in fact. All over my face, hair, jeans, shirt, plus wall, carpet, shoes, hands, and so on. I was sitting right below the hanging shirts waiting to be ironed. Luckily my spurty bottle didn’t aim for them so well. Also great:water-soluble edge dressing. After lots of sponging plus a shower with my jeans on, things seem to be OK.

But this reminds me of a story that I’d like to share. Please indulge me. It involves Chantico, which is a drink that Starbucks offered for a short while last year. The stuff was a lot like warm chocolate pudding, or perhaps the innards of a chocolate souffle. In other words, perfect for me. Here’s the story.

2/8/05

OK, so I tried the Chantico, and it was a hellish experience. Not the fault of the drink itself, I suppose.

To wit:

I’d just finished an utterly exhausting day of major errand-running, grocery-buying, house-cleaning, carpet-steaming, and all around productivity. I’d been full speed since 6am. On the way home (around 4pm) I realized that it was around the time that Chanticos are free (due to a promotional program), so I stopped in at Starbucks for my reward.

Ordered a coffee and a tiny cup of the nectar. It wasn’t free. I got it anyway. Turns out they had none, and had to mix up a new batch. So I wait and wait and wait until my coffee gets cold, because I wanted to make sure I had coffee to have with the chocoverload. Finally, they finish and give me my leeetle cup of heaven. Without any compensation for having waited 15 minutes. By now we’re firmly into Free hours! Harrumph. I decide to not even taste it before I get home and all settled in for bliss.

So I drive home. The car is full of stuff to drag inside, but I hate making multiple trips, so I want to get all the stuff out of the car the first time. My hands are a bit full, plus I have two cups from Starbucks. That’s OK. But on the way in, I see that I need to drag the trash can in from the curb. As I’m balancing the cups and wrestling the lid back on the trash can, I drop the Chantico. It lands upright! Yay! But the lid flies off and a blort of chocolate flies upward and lands on the side of the brand new shiny clean recycle bins that the neighbors just got.

It’s cleaning day. I have to be neighborly and clean that up.

So, hands full, I drag the trash can up the drive, balancing the two cups all the while. OK, most of the while. Just before I get to the top of the driveway, I drop the Chantico. Again. Since the lid was off from the first dropping, there’s nothing to stop it from joyously bounding out of its confining cup and splorting all over the driveway. Sigh.

I finish dragging the trash can in, then I go inside and empty my arms and put the cups down (one full of frigid coffee, one empty of chocolate). Back outside, find the hose, drag it to the front of the house where the spigot is. It doesn’t connect so well, so I get cold water sprayed all over me. Drag the hose over to the chocolatey recycle bins, but it isn’t really long enough to reach. I spray the bins anyway. with some effort and a lot of cold water all over me. Did you know that February here is cold and uncomfortable? It is.

Especially when you’re covered with hose water.

I also need to clean up the chocolate spill in the driveway, since the drive is very very tidy normally, and it doesn’t rain enough around here to clean it off anytime soon. By this time I’m quite damp and freezing — it’s about 40 degrees outside. The hose will no way reach to the spill in the driveway, so I disconnect the hose and drag it over without rolling it up, thinking that I’ll use the water that’s still in the hose for cleaning the spill. Drag drag drag drag.

When I get into position to dribble the dregs over the spill, I turn around to realize that I just dragged the hose through the chocolate. So now I have a chocolately garden hose. I dilute the spill as best I can, then roll up the hose. It manages to slap around my legs a bit, smearing chocolate all over my (of course) light-colored pants. It’s now that I notice I have chocolate on my shoes too, and there’s a path of brown footprints up the drive. I’m giving up on cleaning the outside, giving up on being a good neighbor, giving up on the idea of a driveway that’s not an ant playground for the next few weeks.

OK, put the hose away. Go to the front door. Try to keep the cat from escaping while I strip off all the chocolately clothes outside so that I don’t get chocolate all over the carpet I’d just cleaned. Remember that I spent the day being all productive, steaming the carpets? What does this mean? It means that I’m bedraggled, exhausted, and standing on my front porch in my underwear.

I jump inside the house, pick up the pile of chocolately clothes, slam the front door and head for the back door, which opens to the garage. Dump the chocolately clothes into the washer, remove the rest of the clothes because they’re now chocolately too from having carried the pile inside. Rinse my shoes in the water that’s filling the washing machine.

Go back inside, wash hands, wash sticky doorknobs, check that there’s no chocolate on the carpets. Whew. I don’t need to clean them twice in one day. Put on new clothes (mmmm warm jammies), settle in on the sofa with the remote controls, a blanket, my (frigid) coffee, a pair of scissors, and the empty chocolate cup.
The scissors are for dissecting the Chantico cup so that I can lick the insides. Remember Chantico? My reward for such an exhausting day?

Finally, finally, I get to cut the cup open, spread it out, and lick the chocolate out of the corners, washing it down with my coffee that I’m thinking of as iced coffee now. And you know what? It was pretty good.

But I’m not sure I’ll ever try to get a Chantico again.

September 1, 2006

yesIam12yearsold

Filed under: life — letslucky @ 10:01 am

yesIam12yearsold

yesIam12yearsold,
originally uploaded by letslucky.

This is really fsquared’s photo. I’ve been obsessing about it, so spent 10 minutes in photoshop to fix the letter spacing to make the billboard’s message more clear. So I’m not only 12, and I snicker, but I’m an unoriginal freeloader who steals the jokes of her pals. Hi!

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