musings from the pink chair

someone deleted my fracking article! obviously a person who has no idea about the incredible cultural significance of 30 rock.

i just wrote my first wikipedia article!

about northrax.

because one time the newsroom smelled like maple syrup, so i was like, “omigod! northrax! nooooo!” except NOBODY GOT IT despite the fact that they all claim to be 30 rock fans, so i went to look for a wikipedia article to show them all, and THERE WASN’T ONE.

problem, solution. that’s me, always here to help when you need an explanation of an obscure pop culture reference.

my mom and i went to the little zoo at the natural science center today. it’s no asheboro, obviously, but they have tigers and wolves and goats and peacocks and such, so it’s pretty lovely if you’re not in the mood to hike around the big zoo. we went to visit the wallabies, who have a strange habitat because you’re actually allowed to go in and interact with them. which may or may not be a good idea:

mom: didn’t the wallabies bite somebody a little while back? i heard something about that.

zookeeper: yeah, that’s why the exhibit was closed for several months. but we just reopened like five or six days ago, and they haven’t bitten anyone yet. so i think it’s fine.

…reassuring. NAUGHTY wallabies! further proving my assertion that kangaroos (and kangaroo-like creatures) are really not all they’re cracked up to be.

i’m a picky reader. i can’t stand to read any books that are poorly written (which is most of them), and i hate almost everything fantasy (what fun is it if the author can just be like “ooooo, and then *this* magical thing happened!” and make something up every time the plot needs a twist?).

so, usually, i read frivolous chick lit. *well-written* frivolous chick lit. helen fielding, for example, or sometimes amanda brown. oh, and nick hornby — not chick lit, but it sort of would be if the main characters were girls instead of guys. i like british authors. but lately, there’s been a drought of good chick lit. i mostly blame helen fielding, who seems to be refusing to write any more books (i already own all four of her novels). so i had to find a new genre.

and that genre is…biography! i used to be really into biographies, mostly historical ones, when i was like in middle school. but through high school and college, i read so much history that i couldn’t bear to read the same thing for fun. and now i’m back to loving them again.

i’m mostly into autobiographies this time, and not historical ones. i started with howie mandel’s book, which i know is like an odd choice, especially given that i’m not a big fan of his work (except bobby’s world, which was awesome, obvi). but i picked it because it’s called “don’t touch me” and is mainly about his struggle with OCD, which was very interesting (if not particularly well-written). now i’m reading craig ferguson’s autobiography — i told you i liked british authors — and it’s really funny. next on the list, katharine graham and barbara walters, and then juanita castro’s bio of fidel and raul. because i need something a little more intellectual so my brain doesn’t wither and die from all the frivolity.

anyway, anybody have any good biographies to recommend? funny or serious, historical or contemporary, doesn’t matter. just…good.

guess what i bought today?

a heat gun. haHA. from the product description: “this bad boy reaches 680°F (360 watts).” ooh la la.

it sounds all hardcore, which is awesome, but really it’s just for crafting. i know, turns out i’m lame after all. but it is actually REALLY snazzy. you use it for printmaking — once you print your image, if you’ve used a certain kind of ink and embossing powder, this thing heats it up til it melts and makes it into a nice, shiny embossed image instead of a flat print.

so cool! today i tested it out making stationary and gift tags. and when rebecca (my sister) comes to visit me in june, i’m going to make her use her artistic skillz (she’s much better than me) to create beautiful things. i’m a lame girl, i know, but it’s fun!

i'm melting! i'm melting!

here are some things i’ve done lately:

• swapped out all my plain light switch plates for whimsical new ones from anthropologie (on sale!). totally changes the look of a room, even though you wouldn’t expect it. and now i have a lovely sculptural owl that greets me when i flip on the lights as i walk in the front door.
• bought a pair of skinny suspenders. they’re for a dance performance, but they also seem like a fun accessory. if a little on the hipster-trying-too-hard side.
• read several autobiographies and just bought three more. my new genre of choice.
• got a teeny tiny bit of a tan at my little sister’s college graduation (while enjoying the to-die-for cupcakes that her earth science department provided at the post-graduation reception. the only thing at duke more abundant than free t-shirts is free food.).
• played with my string quartet at a poolside funeral (not kidding) at a giant mansion in marietta. ok, i guess it wasn’t technically a funeral because there was no body involved, but it was a memorial type thing. at a huge mansion with lots of cops running around. sadly, we never did find out who the important attendee was that justified the cops.
• made sushi. for the second time. yum.

all this is to say, yes, i’m very busy. i’m incapable of NOT being busy. but i’m always busy doing fun things. busy busy busy. i’m going to say it again because it’s starting to sound funny, in that way that words sound funny when you say them too many times and start to think about them. busy. busy. okay, i’m done.

sometimes i pick ella up and flip her upside-down. she always gets mad at me for approximately 1.5 minutes and then gets over it and wants to be petted and cuddled again. if i give her a nice ribbon or jingle bell to play with, that cuts it down to 20 seconds.

she also has taken to sleeping in shoeboxes, and frequently battles for control of my keyboard. and she’s the only cat in the world who comes when she’s called.

she’s quite the remarkable girl.

vampire weekend came to play in our newsroom yesterday. i’m not really a fan, but everyone else was ridiculously excited.

so they show up with their roadies/posse, including a hipstery girl who is filming their every move on 8 mm. they explain that they’re documenting their whole tour. on 8 mm. i was like, ok, we get it. you’re indie. you can stop proving it now. really.

…aaaaaaand then i noticed that they were eating taco bell. NO SERIOUSLY GUYS, feel free to stop trying so hard. we get it. really, we do. just stop.

i dream some weird stuff.  i know, so does everybody.  but like, it just seems so random. here are some of the strangest, most random, and thought-provoking dreams i’ve had in my life:

• i was in the television show diagnosis murder. except it was real life. it was actually a terrifying dream, given that the show is, you know, a murder mystery.
• my college friends and i were at some sort of reception at duke, and hillary clinton was there. she came up to us and asked us about some of our policy ideas. and she liked them so much that she made us all go into a classroom so we could discuss further and she could take notes.
• i met cynthia nixon and all i could think to tell her was “you looked better with red hair.”
• i went to a gorgeous, minimalist beach house with big open spaces and huge windows. and ever since that dream, i’ve been trying to figure out where it is so i can go there.
• i found a hidden neighborhood behind my house where i grew up. i’ve had multiple dreams about this neighborhood all my life, and it’s become fairly elaborate. my sister also has dreams about a hidden neighborhood behind our house, and when we describe the neighborhoods to each other, they’re scarily similar.
• as part of some sort of magic show, i had to fight with a lion. this is bizarre because i LOVE lions — they’re probably my favorite animal. i’m not sure why. this is the earliest dream i ever remember having.
• i had to escape from some sort of art museum (that happened to be next to my house). i’m not sure why or who was chasing me. but i had to escape, and i felt like i should have been able to fly, but i couldn’t.

also, you know what’s really annoying? when you dream that you’re mad at someone or have a fight with them or whatever, and then the next day, you’re all angry at them even though it was just a dream. and you have to consciously remind yourself that they’ve actually done nothing wrong and that you shouldn’t be horrible to them. my mom calls this “dream hangover.” it kind of sucks.

i went to an actual, physical american apparel store for the first time today. it was a terrifying experience.

so you know the models on their website? who are wearing, like, multicolored, high-waisted bike shorts, shiny spandex tank tops, a giant cotton sack that dips down to their waist, fishnet tights, and a leopard-print scrunchie? all at the same time? THAT WAS WHO WAS THERE RUNNING THE STORE.

i sort of thought those people didn’t exist in real life. that they were like a hipster myth. or something. i never imagined that there would be real people who dress like that. but there ARE. and they ALL work at american apparel, because if they spent time anywhere else they’d probably be sent straight to the nearest psych ward.

the first girl who asks if she can help me had her hair pulled into a sloppy, high side ponytail. she was wearing a large, long-sleeved cotton sack (apparently a dress?) with bold black and white stripes that hung off one shoulder. she had on black tights with white, thigh-high fishnets over them. i was so busy taking all of this in that i didn’t even notice her shoes. i’m sure they really would have completed the ensemble.

the second girl was worse. her hair was all straggly and she looked like it had been about a week since she’d showered. she had on skin-tight, extremely short (like you could practically see her butt hanging out of them) navy blue corduroy shorts. and i think whoever sewed them might have misunderstood the word “inseam,” because the waist came up almost past her belly button. with that she had a tucked in but very baggy long-sleeved button-up shirt. and pointy kitten-heel shoes with some sort of giant flower-thing on the front. the expression on her face left me wondering whether she looked more like a pothead or a junkie.

so i grabbed the dress i’d come in there to get, paid the girl who looked like a heroin addict, and fled the store as soon as possible. i think i’ll order online from now on, because i have a feeling that american apparel may actually be a cult. a spandex-wearing, scrunchie-loving cult.

late winter and spring are the most depressing seasons.  this may seem ironic since spring is supposedly a season of new beginnings and awakenings, when the flowers bloom and baby animals are born. WRONG! spring is a big tease. it wants you to think that the weather is going to be beautiful and warm and sunny, and then it’s freezing and rainy until june.

anyway, the seasons definitely affect my mood and my health.  i’m not sure if it’s legitimate SAD or just annoyance, but almost every year i get all tired and depressed from mid-january (after the high from the holidays wears off) until it gets warm(ish) in may.  this year, to help fend it off, i decided to join listography (the site is run by the same people who make the cute paper journals) and do one of their suggested lists — “100 things in the world i love.”

…except i don’t really think it’s working. i’ve been at it for a month and i’m only on number 29.  see?  i told you winter was depressing.  what else should i add?

[also, all of you should join listography because it's great when you're too lazy to come up with actual content for your blog. ]