SnOMG

As I am sure you all well know, there's a major snow storm happening right now. It's the biggest storm we've had since 1996.

The entire world feels like it's stopped. Or more accurately, frozen. My office is closed, which is seriously saying something, since we never close. Everything is covered in thick blankets of wet snow. Branches are heavy and sagging with lengths of white. Everything is silent as fat flakes swirl in the wind. Most streets haven't even been plowed, everyone is inside.

I ventured out to try to dig out my car some, which I soon realized was pointless as the street I'm parked on hasn't even been plowed. I gave up and decided to go on a snowventure and walk to Kelly's house. The walk was like hiking through the arctic – the wind is brash and after half a block I could barely see. But it was beautiful, lovely, white, freezing. I trudged on and surprised Kelly. She rewarded me with fresh brownies and half of an episode of the Jersey Shore. (...I don't know. It was like watching a car wreck.)

During the Blizzard of '96 my Mom-Mom had just passed. All of my family members had come to town for the funeral when the storm hit. 13 people and 1 dog all got trapped in my parents' tiny row home (with 1, count it, ONE bathroom) for something crazy like 4 days.

This blizzard couldn't be more different. I'm alone in my apartment with the cats. Kate and Gary are stuck at Deb's and I nearly got trapped at my uncle's last night (poor guy is nursing a broken fibula, which he fractured falling on ice from the last snow storm), but made it home just in time before the serious snow came. I have plenty of food and lots of booze (although, no one to drink it with), cats to snuggle with and movies galore.

Snow is still falling thick and heavy. It's expected to continue throughout the evening. It makes me wonder if everything will still be closed up tomorrow, too.

Happy snowpocolypse to you and yours!

Thundersnow!

IT IS SNOWY OUT THERE PEOPLE AND IT'S GOING TO BE SNOWY ALL DAY AND I'M STUCK INSIDE AND I'VE MADE THE EXECUTIVE DECISION TO BE IN MY JIM-JAMS ALL DAY LONG.

I am excited about the following:

1. Having carte blanche to be lazy.
   
   
2. Being in the Winter Death Shelter '09 with Kate and the kitties and a string of cozy movies and DVDs.
   
   
3. The copious amounts of coffee and wine that are currently in our possession, and most certainly will be consumed.
   
   
4. The ridiculous baking that is sure to ensue later when we're two bottles of wine in and making peanut butter bon-bons is sure to seem like a good idea.

Happy Winter Death Shelter '09!

The Uncollected Poems of Sheri St. Pierre

In Murder!, my character, Sheri, is described as a 20-something poet. Not to ruin things for you, but she's also a tramp and then uses her experiences as fodder for her poems. At one point in the show, Craig's character, Woodrow, pulls Sheri aside for a few minutes of private conversation stage right. Every night, as Craig pulls me aside and fake-talks to me, we mouth random words and phrases to each other, "I like your log cabin," or "Landen broods too much," and "Do you like my dress? It shows off my boobs." This is both a practical exercise (we need to look like we're really talking) and a dangerous one (we keep cracking each other up). At one rehearsal Craig jokingly asked that I recite some of Sheri's poems to him while we're doing our aside. But after I mouthed "There was a man from Nantucket..." to him, I was at a loss. Because I don't really know any poems off the top of my head, much less erotic ones. And while I can make a mean Indian Buffet Haiku, a poet I am not.

However, one of our other castmates (Courtney) is a poet, and a thumpin' good one. And today, she made up the following poems on the 32 bus. She claims that she doesn't want them associated with her, because they are awful. But I think she, (Courtney, that is) did a wonderful job of capturing Sheri's delightfully tacky spirit in these poems (that Courtney wrote).

And so I am happy to present: The Uncollected Poems of Sheri St. Pierre (which is a nom de plume)(For Courtney)

1. Daybreak

for Jackson

The night woods slumber--
stars so cool, the moon so bright.
My lover loves me like the night.

But morning is a flower, opening
to the touch of my Sable Apollo.

O, caress the earth, your mistress
who rests waiting for the rays
that warm and penetrate.

Morning is a flower
opening to your touch.


2. Twilight

for Martha

O summer's lush green heat
cools to autumn's ashen void,
but here he's found a summer
still supple and yielding.

Why fetter Man to the calendar,
to the endless march of day to night?
The warmth of the sun becomes
only the distant, cool moon

unless he untie the bonds
and reach out a sure, free hand
into the soft warmth of sunshine,
the open lap of day.

--

After the Harvest

after "Death in the Evening"

The old woman cries,
realizes the mist of morning will never
again dampen her hem.

She gathers the last berries and fruit
to sustain her through the winter -- a feast!
Bounty fit for gorging, indulging, but she must

peck like a bird, savor each morsel.
Though her appetites rage inside her,
she wears a mask of satiety.

Oh, that she were young again --
to wear the lace and curl her hair!
To move among men like smoke!

She cries a lot now, tasting
the last fruit of the harvest --
juice burst and spent on her tongue.

When her basket is empty and the last fruit
is eaten, still must she survive.
So she forages, collects

the scraps of other gardens,
her mouth full of a sweetness
that sours at the close of day.

--

The Depths

for Woodrow

You are your island --
a chill wind on all sides,
deep water concealing
sediment and muck.

You are your island, unreachable
untouchable without the boat
that skims a skin of blackness

The oarsman heaves his might
against the deep, his eyes
see only the hidden longing
for land, for warmth.

O Charon, row us all to safety!
Row us far from home.

--
Dialogue of Self and Self

for Landen

Here he spins in his circle, here
he can watch the clouds gather, he
knows that she can feel his heart beating.
But she looks to another --

Here he sits in his sorrow, here
the night's darkness looms -- night
holds us until the sunrise brings the ferry.
And she still cannot see --

Here he waits for his moment, here
he feels the ice melt, knowing he
alone can ask the questions and
make her know what he knows.

====

How ridiculous. I LOVE IT, obviously. Way to go Sheri(Courtney)!

Let's talk stock

It's been a pretty frustrating day in Cubicle World, and I don't really want to get too much into it. But suffice to say, towards the end of the day I was becoming slightly unraveled and desperate for either a tall cool drink of the boozy variety or a warm towel laced with ether.

My job requires me to browse and hunt through stock photography quite often – either for one of the numerous blogs my company runs or for book covers, brochures, whatever. In this case, it was for one of the blogs for a post detailing a compliance/benefits story about a person injured while bowling. The editor's request was simple enough: a photo of a man bowling. Fine.

But then, one of the first photos to come up in my search was, well....this.

And that was it. I couldn't stop giggling and snorting uncontrollably. I mean, seriously. Look at that image. What stock photographer thought that was a good pose? What photographer says to their model, "Hey! Crouch down, pretend you're surfing, hold the ball between your legs, and make a face as if to say, 'Behold! I have a gigantic, mutant, hot pink testicle!'"

So of course I included the photo in the selection of possible photographs for the editor, mainly to amuse myself. Here's the brilliant thing: HE CHOSE IT. I had said in the initial email that it was a ridiculous image, and he agreed, but said he liked it because he thought it looked like the guy was about to fall over. Personally, I think said editor got just as much juvenile humor out of the image and wanted to use it.

It's my birthday, but I'm giving you a present

Apropos of nothing. Just makes me giggle.



My God, I'm 28. I'm celebrating my birthday by finishing my thesis.

Photo mosaic of the day

Hahahaha... Sarah just sent me today's questions, since she liked my previous love-filled post. Have at it, kids:




MOSAIC OF THE DAY

1. FIRST THOUGHT THIS MORNING
2. HOW YOU LIKE YOUR COFFEE
3. HOW YOU LIKE YOUR MEN
4. DREAM JOB
5. SPY NAME
6. IF I NAMED A NAIL POLISH AFTER YOU
7. WORD THAT DESCRIBES YOUR FAVORITE FRUIT
8. WHAT YOU WANT TO SMELL LIKE
9. WHAT YOU SMELL LIKE RIGHT NOW
10. LOCATION OF FIRST KISS
11. LOCATION OF LAST KISS
12. WHAT YOU WANT FOR CHRISTMAS

You can tell it's been a slow Friday.

Confessions of a Checkout Girl

Jezebel had an interesting post this weekend about Anna Sam, the author of the book The Tribulations of a Checkout Girl, who after graduating college returned to her job as a checkout girl to tide her over until she could land a job in publishing.

The post caught my attention because I spent 8 years working as a checkout girl/deli attendant at a mom & pop neighborhood grocery store when I was in high school and college. The job served me well – it forced my shy little bandgeek self to talk to complete strangers and forced me to develop an outgoing, friendly personality.

The post mostly talks about how nasty customers are to checkout girls, blaming the checkers when their coupons expire or when prices don't scan properly. I had one woman ream me out because we refused to discount her purposefully dented cans (it was store policy to send damaged merchandise back to the vendors, and the clanging sounds coming from aisle 3 gave me a pretty good clue that the cans had not arrived damaged) and when I politely offered to get her replacements for the dented cans, she called me a bitch and stomped out of the store, leaving an overflowing cart of groceries for me to return to the shelves.

Working in retail is a particular form of hell, second only to waiting tables, I imagine. You back aches, your feet hurt, the constant drone of the beep, beep, beep of the scan, the grouchy customers determined to find fault with whatever you're doing. If you've ever seen the movie Go, those opening scenes of Sarah Polley's character ringing up the harried woman who bitches her out about double coupons and how her bleach is bagged, well, I've been there. I've been the exasperated checkout girl with dead eyes working the double shift and politely asking you between clenched teeth if you want paper or plastic.

But one section of the post caught my eye:

"There are many difficult aspects to being a checkout girl that people probably don't realize; there is a lot of loneliness, stress, sadness, and frustration that comes through the lines, such as seeing an elderly man pay for 15 frozen 50¢ burritos with handfuls of warm change; having to tell a young mother with three sweet-faced children that WIC doesn't cover a specific cereal or type of juice and seeing her face fall as she realizes she has to put things back, and watching people wince as the totals add up on the computer screen. You can feel the stress of your customers; you get a sense of who they are by the items they continually buy, you can tell when your regulars are struggling when their orders go down or when they begin to switch from fancy brands to generics."

This is so true. Working long-term in a grocery store, especially in a non-chain neighborhood store where many people walk as opposed to drive, you quickly begin to develop a relationship with regular customers. You get somewhat intimate glances into their lives. Like the woman who every month would excitedly purchase a pregnancy test to only return sadly a few days later for tampons. Or the woman on WIC who, after 8 months on assistance, triumphantly high-fived me when she bought her first non-WIC order.

The one that sticks out the most in my mind was an elderly gentleman who came into the store nearly everyday. On Tuesdays he would do his regular grocery shopping. Most of it included typical old-man fair: Creamed corn, Rice-a-Roni, low-salt ham, the pre-made pot-pie from the deli and frozen dinners. Every other day of the week he would buy a newspaper, the discouted "meat ends" from the deli, and a can of dog food for his Irish setter, Lady. If I was working, he always came through my line. "How's Lady today?" I would always ask. "Just beautiful," he would always answer, usually following up with an account about how they had gone for a walk or she had seen a squirrel or some such story. "She's a rascal," he would always finish up. I gathered from the amount of food he bought and the way he doted on Lady that he lived alone and that she was his only companion. Early one morning, shortly after the store opened and I stood yawning at my register he entered into my line carrying only a newspaper and a package of meat ends. The synapses in my brain were not yet firing properly so I thoughtlessly asked, "No dog food today?" And with that he burst into tears, hunched over my conveyor belt and began sobbing. Between tears he managed to get out that he had woke up that morning to discover Lady had died in the middle of the night, while he had been sleeping. "I lost my Lady," he choked out to me. "I just don't know what to do." Neither did I, other than to pat his back and pass him tissues. A few years later he stopped coming into the store altogether, and I wonder if he had died or moved or gone into assisted living. I wish that I had known his name.

We had our regular weirdos, too. The schizophrenic who would come into the store and buy cans of Juicy Juice because they were the only ones "unregulated by the government" and would only pay in $2 bills. The homeless man who wandered into the store and urinated on a display of TastyKakes. The skeezey overweight "fireman" (we later found out he wasn't a fireman at all, just owned a lot of firefighter gear and wore it to impress people) who would come in and leer at all the girls while buying donuts. The religious woman who would pass us Jack Chick tracts with her money.

Working in the store provided a certain element of fun. A good number of my coworkers were also high school/college students and we spent a good amount of time on the clock dicking around. Races with shopping carts when it got slow, riding on the huge stock conveyor belt in the basement, making out in the milk cooler, water and suds fights in the sink room of the deli.

Best of all were the unpredictable times. Like when late one night lightening struck our transformer and we lost all power, including our back up generators. It wasn't discovered until the morning when the manager went to open and even then power would not be restored for a full 24 hours. It was a financial nightmare for the store – thousands and thousands of dollars of damaged stock that had been unrefrigerated and gone bad. Still it was kind of fun, tooling around the dark store armed with mini flashlights and Polaroid cameras to document the damage for insurance, hurriedly loading salvageable items into the one refrigerated truck we were able to get, dancing to "Car Wash" by Rose Royce blasting from someone's car stereo as we formed a line brigade to begin chucking spoiled food into the dumpsters, the store owner buying us all pizza and beer for our hard work and setting up a store picnic in the middle of the diaper aisle.

Or the time the boiler in the basement began to hum and shake, causing the entire floor to vibrate and a strange dusty smell to emanate from the basement stairs. Just as we were all starting to glance at each other with that, Do you hear and feel that too? Should we be worried? look, a large BANG caused the entire store to shudder, followed by smoke floating up from the basement and the fire alarms going off. I remember the fear and panic in the manager's eyes as she got on the intercom and said in her best smooth and soothing voice, "Attention all customers, we apologize for the inconvenience but it would appear we have an emergency situation in the store, possibly a fire. Please calmly proceed to the nearest exits. Thank you." And then turning to me, eyes wild and voice shaking, "Get everyone out, get out, get out." Trying to herd customers out the door, most of whom were reluctant to leave because they hadn't finished shopping. "Look," I told a stoner woman insisting on buying cigarettes and Funyuns. "The STORE is on FIRE. You have to leave! NOW. Go to 12th and Maple if you're that desperate!" "I'm not walking all that way!" was her huffy response as she slouched out of the store. Turns out that boiler had actually exploded, and in the explosion several cardboard boxes caught fire. Luckily, because the boiler was in a fairly isolated corner of the basement (and because the fire department got there in record time) it was mostly just smoke and cosmetic damage. After the fire was put out, we all loitered in the parking lot with the firemen. The owner sent over food and drinks for the firefighters from our sister store across town, and we all pounded icy sodas and stood around with shaky knees trying to figure out what to do next. The only reason this story is fun is because no one was hurt and because it was my last day working in the store. "Well," my manager said as I handed in my apron. "You certainly know how to make an exit."

Lunchtime conversation at SuTao

Sarah: I want cobbler. Why do they have it in the fridge and not out on the table?

Me: They're probably saving it for the dinner buffet.

Sarah: They'd better stop. There is a recession. People are hungry.

(This made me laugh for, like, 10 minutes.)

Those Fightin' Phils!

PEOPLE. DID YOU SEE? THE PHILLIES TOTALLY JUST WON THE WORLD SERIES.

I'm not the world's biggest sports fan. Football, meh. Basketball, fffftt. Hockey, I like. Baseball is probably my favorite.

I was reared to be a Phillies fan. My earliest memories of my grandfather, and the image of him that comes to mind whenever I think of him, is him sitting in his chair with a beer, watching the Phillies. I used to climb up into his lap, steal sips of his beer and watch the games with him.

The fact that the Phillies won the world series is so awesome and incredible to me. The breaking of "The Curse,", the Phils winning the first world series of my lifetime, everything.

And I know, somewhere in the afterlife, my grandfather is THRILLED.

Halloween Help

YOU GUYS HALLOWEEN IS LIKE 16 DAYS AWAY AND I AM PANICKING. PLEASE HELP ME THINK OF A COSTUME BECAUSE I'VE GOT NOTHING.

Requirements - Has to be appropriate for multiple parties, namely: Office party, Rosemont Party, Pagan Party, and Luke and Leslie's party. Vaguely sexy is OK (i.e., like last year's), but down and out slutty is not cool. I am not a whore and I don't want to be one for Halloween either. Please do not suggest Sarah Palin, like everyone else has, because NO.

"Casual"

On heavy musical rotation: Bright Eyes' "Lover I Don't Have to Love," Dresden Dolls' "Coin-Operated Boy" and "Girl Anachronism," Damien Rice's "Volcano," and Rufus Wainwright's "Instant Pleasure."

Remembering: That it's about ME ME ME ME ME. I'm allowed to be selfish. In fact, I'm entitled to it.

Realizing: That I need to get out of my damn head so much and that time, more than anything, helps me deal. A solid night's sleep and a fulfilling dinner don't do any harm either. I need to stop over-fucking-reacting to every little thing.

Also realizing: I'm doing this because it's convenient and makes me feel good about myself. When it ceases being both of those things, I will stop. It's as simple as that.

And FURTHERMORE: I'm awesome.

So there.

With much thanks to: Lisa Nicole, Renee, and Sarah.

Missing in Action

As much as I am loathe to admit it -- I'm simply not ready -- it's fall. And per usual, I'm running in about 17 directions at once. Sadly, it's not for anything particularly exciting: work, school, photography, blah. Basically, it's nothing worth blogging about. However, knowing how upset some of you get when I don't post (Christopher), here's what I've been up to lately:

• Work. Yeah, nothing too earth-shattering there. Editorial Conference is this week, but seeing as I have been relieved of my video duties, for the most part I am at my leisure this year.
  
  
• School. I'm taking Elements of Design, which is actually turning out to be pretty rad. There's only two of us in the class, so I'm surprised that Rosemont didn't just go ahead and cancel it. But it's ended up being a good thing. Since it's just the two of us it's allowed the instructor to completely revamp the syllabus to suit our needs. And given that I've been bitching for the past two years that Rosemont needs more advanced design classes, it's so fucking nice to be getting personalized attention like this. However, class is on Saturdays. Which sucks.
  
  
• Oh, Rosemont. While on the subject of school, there's about 15 levels of DRAMA and ISSUES going on over there. Luckily, most of it has nothing to do with me and I've managed to remain uninvolved. I do, however, have to hear about it from everyone and their Mom. So while I've had a mostly positive experience there, I am very glad that this is my final semester.
  
  
• Oh yeah. Thesis. I couldn't find an adviser. But now I have one, so I need to get to work.
  
  
• Panicking about Wales. Don't ask. No, don't. I told you not to as-- Fine. No, it's not done yet. No, I haven't done that either. Or that. Yes, I know. I KNOW. I AM AWARE. Please bite me.
  
  
• Living with Gary. It's going quite well. We've begun setting up the reading room (!), hung most of the artwork (!!!), and the kitties are getting along well.
  
  
• Bonus to living with Gary: Yesterday morning, I rolled out of bed, walked downstairs and sleepily collapsed on the couch to pet kitties. Gary wordlessly got up from his seat, walked to the kitchen, and returned with a cup of coffee for me. LOVE HIM.
  
  
• Slowly making my way through all of Gary's awesome DVD collection. Now that we no longer have regular TV, it's allowed me to revisit some old favorites. We're currently zipping through The West Wing.
  
  
• Obsessing over the polls. I swear to all that is good and holy, if McCain/Palin wins this thing America is DEAD to me.
  
  
• Making my skin soft and supple. Leslie is now a Mary Kay consultant. She might as well be dealing me crystal meth. I can attest that the Microdermabrasion stuff and Satin Lips are both awesome.
  
  
• Other things, which are not exactly prudent to blog about, but are indeed fun. Suffice to say, it's making me a happy girl, so I'm going to keep doing it.
  
  
• No, I'm not going to elaborate. Shut up and leave me alone.
  
  
• Taking part in a staged reading this Friday at Rosemont. I play Jill, a 20-something teacher in love with her boyfriend Chris. I haven't acted in a play since the 7th grade One Act Plays where I played "Doctor #2" in the acclaimed "Doctor, Doctor!" And there's a reason. I feel all awkward outside of the light booth.
  
  
• Redesigning my brothers site, which I've done, but it still looks like ass and I swear if I don't get myself some hard core coding training sometime in the near future, I will EAT my FACE.
  
  
• Trying, in vain, to get in shape for another 5K. I was actually going to do one this past Sunday, but ended up punking out. So now Stephanie is on my ass (right where I like her) to do this one in October.
  
  
• The new season of Heroes beginning tonight! Thanks, Renee. Because I needed another sci-fi show to be obsessed about.

Well, now I can breathe easy

All this nonsense in Denver? Puh-Shaw! Pundits? Take a back seat. We have official confirmation that the Weekly World News Alien is supporting Barack Obama.

Note that WWN Alien has correctly predicted every election since 1980.

I'm much cuter in anime

Everyone else on the planet is doing this, so I thought I would too. I wish I lived in an animated world! Also, check out those ta-tas!

Dorky Goal Making

Next year at this time, I would like to be at Comic Con.

Even more ridiculous and dorky aspiration: I would like to be paid to go.

Right. I'll be off in the corner, day dreaming some more.

The nicest compliment

Outside after the reception for Kit and Tim's wedding.

Joe!: And you! You take such awesome photos, you should go into business or something.

Matt: Thank you!

Me: I...

Matt: Shut up. You took a shitty band in a shitty bar and made us look like rock stars.

Me: You guys are not a shitty band. Not in the slightest.

Matt: Yeah, OK, but it was a shitty bar.

Me: True.

Springtime Tunes

So it's spring now! Hurray! I've been busy getting all of my springtime ducks in neat little rows, because the next couple weeks are going to be very busy. I've got birthday parties, photo gigs, film festivals, projects due, presentations to present, finals to hand in, softball games, bachelorette parties, and weddings!

To go along with this busy life-style, I need a good soundtrack.

For anyone that knows me, my music preferences cycle with the seasons. In the fall I lean towards lots of punk and alternative, in the winter I slow it down with mellow, moody tunes. But in the spring and summer I crave poppy, light, happy tunes to match the weather and my hectic dashing about.

I need your help! Who has some good tunes for me? I've been listening to a lot of Feist, Vampire Weekend, and the Juno Soundtrack. But I need new stuff, so start recommendin' -- I'm pretty eclectic, so I like a lot of stuff -- don't be afraid to throw something out to me.

Well, that will clear up my mood

SURPRISE PUPPIES IN THE OFFICE! KTHXBAI!

Today's forcast: Kidnappings and Firings

9:45am, Google Chat between me and Stephanie.

S: What are you doing today?

K: Working.

S: Working is rubbish. I'm taking a half-day and you should too.

K: But I'm taking next Monday off. And we're having a Wall of Fame today. So I would like to be here for that. And I should work on charts.

S: Aww, look at you. You're such a good company girl.

K: Thanks.

S: That wasn't a compliment.

---

2:00pm, Stephanie calls me.


"Are you ready skivv off work yet?"

"Well, I have to do an FMA chart."

"For fuck's sake!"

"I'll tell you what. I need to pick up my car at the garage. You can take me to the garage if you like."

"Can I take you to the garage and then keep you?"

"I'm...Stephanie, I'm at work. I can't just up and leave."

"Are you done with all your deadlines for the day? Miss J is cool. She'll let you leave."

"That's not the point."

"Finish your fragging chart. I'm coming to take you to the garage."

---

2:15pm, Stephanie arrives at the office.

"Come on, I'm kidnapping you."

"OK, hang on. Miss J, Stephanie is taking me to pick up my car...and then she, uh, she wants me to...she might... keep me. Is there anything you need be--"

"LET'S GO!"

---

2:17pm, in Stephanie's car.

"Do you mind if I run a quick errand before I take you to your car?"

"No.."

---

2:36, Phoenixville.

"Stephanie?"

"Yeah?"

"We're at a bowling alley."

"Yes!"

"I thought you had to run an errand."

"I do!"

"...And...it's at a bowling alley?"

"Yes! It was in my list of errands to bowl two games with you and Henry."

"I'm supposed to be at work! I can't just go bowling."

"Why not?"

"It's taking advantage of Miss J's kindness. What if something goes wrong and they need me and I'm not there. I'll get fired!"

"I kidnapped you. You don't have a car. You have no choice. Let Miss J fire me."

"..."

"Are you going to sit in the car and wait for me and Henry while we play? Or are you coming in with us?"

"Coming in. I guess I can make up the time."

"For fuck's sake. Get your ass in the alley. I'm about to house you."

Wot's All This Then?

I just realized: Currently no less than six (6!) of my front page posts deal with British television, British celebrities, or British people.

I should just give up and immigrate already.