29 August 2006

then they go and do something like this.

seriously?

i mean, come on. and it costs how much? now don't get me wrong. stella and i enjoy the anthropologie. or, uh, we used to. they keep doing stuff like this and it might be time to say adieu.

28 August 2006

i heart heidi. i heart seal.


my boyfriend seal with my girlfriend heidi. i hope this one is named inga sealhenry samuel. it's got a good ring to it, doesn't it? and if they have twins? stella's in, too! s.w.a.k.!

27 August 2006

Oh. Huh.

So yesterday morning I was at a coffee shop, sipping a cup of joe, waiting for a large coffee order to take to campus. I browsed through x's local paper. I checked the police beat for any mention of former students, coworkers, or boyfriends. The shop was mostly empty; a professor I recognized from campus was busy at work across the shop. The door opened. A father and daughter walked in. Oh, how cute, I thought. Quality father-daughter breakfast time. The dad refrained from ordering. The daughter, though, wanted a chai tea. A chai tea with skim milk, she emphasized, and she repeated the word again, lest the coffee girl behind the counter did not hear her. Skim. Which might have been a real problem, as the daughter was, oh, about six years old, skinny as a button (yeah, okay, I realize that doesn't work too well - are buttons skinny? well, I suppose so, since they aren't very wide, but they can be big, you know, especially if you have a Navy pea coat - the buttons on those suckers are HUGE! but i digress - tiny girl was a skinny minnie), nose barely skimming the top of the counter.

A six year old? Already obsessed with skim over whole milk? Or 2%? I mean, I was at least 21 before I developed my obsession with calories and fat grams.

Oh my indeed.

25 August 2006

genius.

first wes anderson. now pong. damn you, american express.


I hope

that this doesn't get elevated to the point of involving a wood chipper.

"There is not an apology big enough in the world [to make up for your making a 150+ member crew wait for you on a film set]. It's nothing but disrespect. And Lindsay Lohan is not the only one. A lot of actors show up late as if they're God's gift to the film. It's inexcusable, and they should have their asses kicked."

You might recognize William H. Macy from his occasional guest-starring role as my 8th boyfriend.

20 August 2006

planning ahead

From Flight 001:



Lerrrve it.

19 August 2006

Stella is a Bad Friend. Part 23.

Stella is preparing to leave x for y soon. She's been busy packing. My things as well as her own. She's tying up loose ends, saying her good-byes. We're planning a night out for sushi as her going away dinner. One invited guest is Khalil. Khalil and Stella lived together in grad school for many years. They're fast friends. They share secrets. They share a love for Swedish Lars. But anyway. We send out an invite to the dinner. I mention that it's the same place where we had Dev's going away dinner.

Khalil emails back. Yes, dinner is a go, count him in. But...he asks...where did Dev go?

Nice, Stella. Khalil graduates and moves away, and you can't even be bothered to let him know your long time beau has moved to Japan for one to THREE years?

18 August 2006

How the South is Scary, Part 1.

Here's a recent conversation between Ena and a saleswoman in the bedding department at a pretty high-end department store down south.

Ena. "I'm wondering if you have duvets."
Saleswoman. "We don't carry items from France."
Ena "...." (stunned silence).

Are you ready, Stella? Are you really ready?

13 August 2006

the times, they are a-sucking.

so anyone who knows me, knows it's no secret that i hate flying. hate. it. bad. sure, i do it a lot. one amazing year i flew to spain, norway, and spain again. those are longs flights (yes, not as long as dev's recent one, but still). i fly because i love to travel. i fly because it's how i can see friends and family. i fly because, well, it's often easier than driving.

but still. i hate it bad.

my remedy? some dramamine tablets and a glass (or two or three, depending on the flight) of wine. sure winner for curing flight fears.

the point of all this? i decided to fly to the beach to visit the parents for a week. i decided to fly out on a thurs. yes. thurs. of this past week. i arrived at INSERT MAJOR CITY AIRPORT HERE at 5:30 am. news crews were already in place. the bbc had been broadcasting the terror thwart in london for hours. my bag checked, i headed into a line an hour and a half long for security. no problem. i mean, hell yeahs, safety first. sure, i was a bit miffed at having to throw away my lipsticks (o! the stilla lipstick - such a perfect color; did i remember to look at the color name as i tossed it into the bin? no. i suck; the venom! you know know, pseudo-botox lip color? gone; the kiehls tinted lip gloss #3? or was it #5? gone), but you know, who cares? lipstick, no matter how expensive is replaceable.

most people in the security line took things w/ a grain of salt. people realized that (a) something indeed nasty had been averted, hence the cause for concern, (b) if we missed our flights, we missed our flights, and (c) since it wasn't even 6am yet, we really were the lucky ones traveling that thurs.

and then there were the Others, who included:
1. businessmen gabbing on cells and blackberries, bitching about missing their flights for some "crap in europe"
2. a woman dressed way too cheerfully for so early in the morning, griping outside the gate to my flight about having to throw away the starbucks she'd just bought, despite the signs and announcements oh, EVERYWHERE, that drinks and liquids were not allowed on ANY flight. "but it's just coffee," she whined to the gate agent, who, i must say, stood there rather stocially and held her ground.
3. the travel-on-a-package folks seated behind me, who, upon our plane being called back to the gate because of an unidentified fluid pouring out of our plane, learned they'd miss the one connecting flight a day to some-island, commenced bitching, "oh, god, first terrorism and now this? i'm never flying this airline again!" (note to people - plan your own damn trips! it's so much fun to do, oh, i don't know, what you want to do on a vacation! - this is also a good way to realize that there is only one connecting flight per day to island x.)

so, what? we were a mere 4 1/2 hours late taking off. sure, i missed my connecting flight by 3 hours. but i got on another flight to the beach. i had enough time between flights to have a glass of wine in an airport bar (more on that in another post) and fall a little in love with an LA-based furniture designer from Southern City X - i swear, everytime the dude said 'tupelo' i swooned a little more.

so take that, liquid spewing terrorists; i may have had to ditch my lipstick, but i totally fell head over heals into a crush worthy Southern boy. rock on.

08 August 2006

so proud of my peeps

From the AP:

A German court said Monday that it has ruled that an Iranian lesbian cannot be deported to her homeland because she risks facing punishment there for her sexual orientation.

The 27-year-old woman, whose name was not released, traveled to Germany in September 2003 and applied for asylum.

The woman argued that she felt excluded from society in the Islamic republic and wanted to "live out her homosexuality openly without having to fear persecution," the Stuttgart administrative court said.

The court found that the chance of "disproportionate or discriminatory punishment of a homosexual relationship between women is very high in Iran ... because such a relationship is an absolute breaking of taboos, even worse than between men."

It argued that the plaintiff also risked punishment for her refusal to wear a head scarf.

07 August 2006

no, you go

but on the bright side

Dev can't get a cell phone in techno-friendly Japan until his alien registration card comes in, which won't be for at least three weeks, and the land line is wishy-washy too. Poor thing. Anyone who knows Dev knows that if ever a boy matched with Japan's technology, it was he.

Now he's here (it's photo no. 5), maybe learning a bit of slow breathing and asceticism.

02 August 2006

haggis for the heart.

uli, my super favorite person in the whole entire world, wants us to visit scotland in november! yea, uli! i can't wait to go back to scotland. i've been, once before, with zeb, who is likely the most narcissitic person in the entire world. seriously. zeb was awfully good looking - wavy brown hair, melt-y brown eyes, broad shoulders. he dressed well. he was working on a master's in history back in the day. i knew wine. he knew suave. we both knew books.

back in the days pre-Sept. 11, when airfares in december to europe were 250 round trip, why wouldn't zeb and i have planned a whirlwind tour together?

in hindsight: because zeb's a jackass.

  • the highlights of our scotland/european tour together:
  • a tour of scottish whiskys in the nice n' sleazy, glasgow, thanks to the scottish bartendress who'd spent some time in america.
  • pulling into edinburgh late one night, mid-december, snow falling, a winter carnival , almost like a fairyland.
  • zeb trying to pimp me out to a band in a pub off prince st. - notice i don't protest this memory too much - the lead singer was hot. machottistein, if you will.
  • riding a train past lockerbie, scotland.

oh, so okay, scotland seemed okay. it wasn't until later, you know, when we hit paris that things began falling apart:

zeb declaring true love for our lesbian friend, admitting he'd kissed her before we left, declaring that he knew, just knew in his heart of hearts, that she wanted him, too. six or seven sake bombs later, it just didn't matter anymore. i spent my last night in paris bowled over, sitting along the banks of the seine, realizing i wasn't even nursing a broken heart; anyone full of himself enough to think a kiss would make a lesbian suddenly miss the quivering loins of a man was certainly too stupid for me.

i blame it on his inadaquate love-making skills. seriously, a girl can only make excuses for so long, zeb.

moral of this story? scotland with uli will rock. totally.
moral of zeb's story? our lesbian girlfriend totally...stayed a lesbian.

when being arty is just plain stupid.

so it's been crazy hot in much of the country lately, thus admitting it's been crazy hot here recently surely won't give us away.

in the midst of all this heat, stella and i tried valiently to keep up our daily routines - walking the dogs, going to work, walking the dogs some more, drinking wine, drinking more wine, collapsing in front of the fan to conserve energy while drinking yet more wine in vain and stupid attempts to keep ourselves hydrated (yes, we know wine dehydrates, we get it - but mmm mm mm! it's tasty).

while out on one of our walks the other day, we came across a yard sale. in a college town, it was the usual junk - broken lamps, cassette tapes, used paperbacks, hipster cast off t-shirts. the usual suspects gathered round - emo boys, art history girls, art students.

now, inga hearts the emo boys. she digs the art history girls, especially their bangs and stylish sense of eyeware. and generally she digs the art students. sure, artsy boys are actually banned from my can-date list (along with boys whose names start with vowels and vegans, generally anything with a 'v' - but in our experiences, artsy boys, vowel-names, and vegans are generally one and the same, so really, it doesn't eliminate as many guys as you'd think), but art students rock.

except for art school girl at the yard sale.

the temperature? at least 100, not counting the heat index. it was the kind of day where you are literally stiffled by the heat; it settles on your shoulders and stays put (oh, why walk the dogs then? hi. have you met rye, otherwise knowns as poetry in motion?).

so, there's art school girl in the midst of the yard sale. everyone else is smartly dressed in madras shorts, strappy tops, summer dresses, plain white t-shirts. the kids are rocking the flip flops or going sockless in their new-retro vans. and then there's art girl: ankle-length black pants, high necked t-shirt, long sleeve black cardigan - pulled down to her wrists.

seriously, girlfriend. you are ridiculous. even the goth kids were bopping about town in maroon rather than their standard black garb.

idiot.

watch for the scaredy-bear

another reason cable is better



i wonder whether our reporters are ashamed of their performance when they see this or whether they think her uncouth.