Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Drugs are bad.

Some of you may be wondering where I got my new banner for this blog at. Or some of you may not care. Either way I'm not talented enough to design something of that nature, so credit needs to be given where it's due.

My spiffy new banner was deisgned by my fantastic and talented boyfriend Mr. Josh V., and you can see more of his design and photography at his deviantART account located over here -----> His photography work, in my biased opinion, is particularly choice.

The new job is going well. It's nice to have dollars again, for the time being. People are either really, really great and friendly or really, really awful. Yesterday was an exceptionally bad day in terms of awfulness.

A guest at our hotel checked in the night before last, and was sketchy and loud and a total tweaker, and she and her boyfriend/husband/dealer/whomever kept making absurd demands (no, you can't get 10 extra pillows for a one night stay, but you can have 2--and no, it's not okay if you take chairs from other rooms because other people need their chairs, too). They also had an infant with them. I'm talking sock-on-the head, must be kept in a carrier or held, still breast-feeding infant.

Well they checked out the next day and had problems paying because they kept changing their minds on the payment method, and then had a nice long argument with each other in our lobby about money, which was awesome as I was taking calls. Then they left, and everyone was relieved.

And then a housekeeper found about a quarter of an ounce of crystal meth in their room.

Now of course no one can prove it belongs to them, and other than the fact that nobody else had been in the room in 72 hours there wasn't much to go off of. But once we'd all finished panicking, filing police reports, and calling in a team to come and test the room to see just how deep cleaned it needed to be (enough to strip all of the linens and throw them all out, but not enough to throw away the furniture--we ended up placing the room out of order for 48 hours while it's cleaned with special HAZMAT stuff), and disposing of the drugs, it dawned on me.

Baby. Breastfeeding. Meth in the room. Wow.

Anyone who knows me knows that I love kids. Absolutely and entirely, and I'll do pretty much anything to make them happy. Just the sound of a kid crying often puts me in a strange, sullen place because I hate to see them in pain or sad. When I watch Law and Order I revel in the moments when the fake criminals that harm children are captured and sent to jail (or worse).

So yeah, I kind of shut down and had a really hard time thinking about it. As a matter of fact, it's sort of bumming me out now so I'm going to drop the subject.

Cadburry Cream Eggs I've consumed thus far this Easter season: 3

Recently I've decided to cut soda out of my life as much as possible, and to only drink diet soda on certain occassions that may call for it (drinking at a bar [since I've cut beer out as well] or going to a movie for instance). I have to say, I don't know how people have been doing it. I know that the saying goes as "you can't taste a difference between the two kinds," but dear lord you definitely can. It's noticeable. And I'm not sure I like it. So perhaps it's time for me to just cut all things soda out of my life entirely? We'll see . . .

"Too much life in you, my dear.
I would sing;
You would burst in tears now."

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Current Infatuations

A few things that I'm curently obsessing over:

-"Country Noir" music. In other words, darker, thoughtful, sultry country music with a bit of a rock edge that tends to tug at the heart strings. See: Amy LaVere, Jenny Lewis (lately), The Raveonettes ca. "Pretty in Black," Johnny Cash (later in his life), The Pierces, Loretta Lynn remixes, Cowboy Junkies, The Derailers, and sometimes though perhaps not at all on purpose Sonic Youth.

- My big black way farer sunglasses: http:// [the hyperlink function is being odd, hence the big ugly link right here in the middle of this post--but trust me, they're yummy]

- The fact that my last retail job's paycheck still hasn't been mailed to me despite the fact that it was 3 weeks ago that I last worked for them, and that I called HQ and talked to the payroll department whom assured me they'd over night the check. Yeah, not so much. Still waiting on about $140...

- Did I mention Easter Candy in this blog already? I do believe I did. It's so delicious.

- Plain, cotton, solid colored v-neck tees. Yes I know I'm late to this hipster bandwagon and that I'm actually probably most likely not cool anymore, but they're just so damn comfortable. The most!

- Getting to see my family again. I had this strange dream last night where I went home to visit them, and my sister didn't know who I was at all. It was really, really surreal and awkward and it made me cry in the dream. I was in our kitchen and I was talking to her, and she was just ignoring me and playing with some handheld video game or something, and she kept saying "I can't talk to you right now" and I'd ask her "why?" and she'd reply "because I don't know you." My subconscious must have it in for me pretty badly. This dream then segued into a dream where I was working in the white house as an intern for fictional President Jedd Bartlett from "The West Wing." Mary Louise Parker's character was there, and so was the guy who plays Josh Lyman, and so was John Spencer's character, and inexplicably the guy who was my waiter at Red Robin last night . . .

- . . . Which, by the way, said waiter was incredibly hot, so he belongs on this list. And why were we at this veritable snaffu of a chain restaurant, you may ask? Simple explanation is that it was the original Red Robin restaurant; the first one ever. And it's closing down this week. And it's only 2 miles from my apartment. How could I not go? Plus, we had our out-of-town friends here and they really wanted to go, so in the spirit of letting people have their own vacations and getting to choose stuff, we accompanied them to a pretty decent meal.

That's all, for now. Although I'm sure this will change as quickly as the weather . . . When I make a country noir playlist, I'll post it.

"I went to a cobbler to fix a hole in my shoe,
He took one look at my face and said
'I can fix that hole in you.' "

Saturday, March 13, 2010

That playlist I promised, and a few other things of note.

This is a "blog housekeeping" post, meaning it feels a little arbitrary but comes from a place of sincerity.

- So here's that playlist I promised several weeks ago; it's my "I get up at 5:30 so I can drive north on I-5 all groggy like clutching a cup of coffee and trying not to crash my car and make it to work on time by 7" playlist. Or, as it is labeled on the CD,

Ryan Goes to Work:

"Everybody Say" by Takka Takka
"Nick and Norah's Theme" composed by Mark Mothersbaugh
"In a Cave" by Tokyo Police Club
"Hard to Live in the City" by Albert Hammond Jr.
"Lights Out" by Santigold
"Ticking Clock" by Sisero
"Again and Again" by The Bird and The Bee
"Catch my Disease" by Ben Lee
"Every Time" by Lincoln Hawk (not a real band)
"Some are Lakes" by Land of Talk
"What I Am [cover]" by Emma Bunton
"Talk Show Host" by Radiohead
"Piazza, New York Catcher" by Belle and Sebastian
"When I Come Around" by Green Day
"Needle in the Camel's Eye" by The Wolfmen
"Plea from a house cat named Virtue" by The Weakerthans
"Racing Lights" by Stars of Track and Field
"Happiness" by Goldfrapp
"Acid Tongue" by Jenny Lewis

- Also, I have friends visiting from out-of-town this weekend and I couldn't be more stoked if I were at Disneyland chowing down on chicken tacos and a chocolate/vanilla swirl ice cream cone. Although that would be pretty damn awesome.

- Also, I finished that Chuck Klosterman book and thought it was only okay. Not as fresh feeling as Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs or as snarky in a fun way as IV, but somewhere in-between. At the end I was left wanting a bit more, and wondering if I'd really learned anything about anything other than just how the author feels about love, death, and Radiohead (I mean, the bits about Radiohead really are brilliant and insightful, but a tangent is a tangent is a tangent). I also have come to despise his critics--Not those who blast him, but those who praise him. His writing is great, but god damn it all he's not the next Hunter S. Thompson. He's a smart guy, but this narrative is not the front-runner of a new wave one might callously refer to as "modern gonzo journalism." Just because you don't get it doesn't mean it's Fear and Loathing. Stop pretending like you've read anything by Thompson, and stop pretending you care that Salinger is dead. FUCK.

- Okay, on a lighter note, it's Easter candy season, which means my love has returned to store shelves:

- So some of you out there might have cats. Answer me this, readers--Does your cat sometimes sit in the middle of the room in the sunlight and just meow and meow and meow for an unknown reason? I mean my god, I'm right here in plain view and there's food in the bowl and water in the bowl and what could she possibly need? Is she just validating her existence by proclaiming "I am here!" the only way she knows how or is there a more desperate and sad meaning to these cries? I need a book on cat dementia.

"Bitter heart, bitter heart tries to keep it all inside.
Bitter heart, bitter heart--The shadows will help you try and hide.
Bitter heart, bitter heart is getting just a little fragile.
Bitter heart, this bitter heart o' mine."

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

One state, two state, red state, blue state.

It's so weird being considered the "insider" by people whom haven't lived in Seattle before.

For example we have friends moving here some time in the summer/fall, and so of course they ask us umpteen questions daily about the area, the rent, the weather, etc. etc. In some ways this, of course, makes me feel important. And one of my major flaws is that I like to feel important (just ask my boyfriend--I imagine it drives him nuts [though I think that this need to be seen as reliable/important/informed/self-assured is one of the reasons I adapt to new environments so easily and will move through the ranks of a career path at a quick pace if given the opportunity to do so; so maybe this bad habit isn't such a bad thing?]). I walk a fine line of self-indulgence when I dish out advice like potato salad to out-of-towners. After all, I've only lived here for 9 months.

There are so many things that I'm still learning about this city, yet so many things I feel like I know already. I have pizza preferences. Coffee preferences. Sushi preferences. Neighborhoods where I will and won't go out (love it in Fremont, hate it in Pioneer Square will pretend to like Bellevue). Are these all subject to change? Well of course. But these preferences developed so subtley over time I hardly noticed them until I really started to think about it.

Or maybe this all has to do with the fact that I registered my car last weekend, finally, in the state of WA. I'm now totally and certifiably legal in the state, mostly. Another piece of me becomes another part of another state. I'm like a puzzle of the western United States, or maybe I'm just a piece of that puzzle and there's no puzzle glue left to hold it all together. So I guess that makes me a Washingtonian-by way of Idaho-by way of Nevada-by way of Californian? I can't wait to vote for things in places. And have an opinion on the assorted taxes and property values. And complain about out-of-staters in a baseless, accusatory, and often narrow fashion.

I feel a bit smarmy today. Maybe it's this cold I'm fighting? Maybe.

"And she has never seen traffic lights,
Lifts or escalators, or loads of strawberries
In the mouths of light entertainers."