Dead Ex Boyfriend Redux

I had a dream about Neal a couple of nights ago. (The first one I've had since he died.) He was in trouble, and we were running away, and I was trying to hide him, but he was on drugs and thus not very helpful with the whole process. I think I hid him in a treehouse. I don't remember if we got caught or not. I think I woke up in the middle.

I think about him every day. Which is ironic, in the "shitty in a semi-amusing manner" fake meaning of ironic, because I'm sure I didn't think about him this much when he was alive. I thought about him a lot, probably every three or four days, but not every day. I certainly didn't miss him this much.

I put a picture of him up on my wall. I feel kind of weird about it, as it's the only photo up in my room right now. (I have a bunch of posters, but no other photos.) The dead ex photo does kind of scream, "Hi, I have some issues." I've considered telling people that the girl in the photo is my sister, but they would doubtless figure out I didn't have a sister at some point, and that would make it even creepier.

The photo is a photobooth picture we took the day before I left for college, and we both look adorable and so very young. I am so very blonde and blue-eyed and happy, and he looks so soft I can hardly stand it. I'm not sure I even am that blonde girl any more. Sometimes I think that both of the people in that photo are gone. Sometimes I think I carry both those ghosts around with me.

I Have Ears!

So remember how I made my blue hoodlum hat, and I was all, "I made another hat just like this for Phil, but I didn't make it out of the same yarn, because that would be freaky and weird."

Well, I did made another hat out of the same yarn. But this one has cat ears! (I know, I know, I already had two different hats with cat ears. But I made this one myself. And it's blue and pretty!)

I used the Official Kittyville Hat pattern from Stitch n' Bitch, except without the ear flaps. I am totally in love with the Stitch n' Bitch book, by the way. I've already made the Alien Illusion Scarf, and the Geek Wristband. All of the patterns are so cute, I just want to make them all.

Mrowwwww!

It Takes a Village

I'm proud to announce that my hair and I are now pinker than ever. Many, many thanks to the ever fabulous Gwen for the haircut, and to Phil for the dye job. (I like to think of my hair as a community effort.)

I am totally digging this haircut. I have bangs, which are fun. But the best part is that it's all short and cute. Because when your hair is short, it's not messy, it's "tousled" and "moppety." Also, when I wear my hoodlum hat, you can't even see my hair, and I become a Top Secret Pink Haired Girl. (Shhh, don't tell!)

Thanksgiving Picture

Here is a picture of my roommate riding Emmett like a pony.

Some Art Movements I Enjoy

• The Dutch still lifes with cheese and tulips. I really enjoy it when they have crazy non cheese and tulip things in them, like skulls and sharks' heads and parrots. Although I don't think it should count as a still life if it has a parrot in it. It's also really great when the little info cards are all, "The skull represents death, while the cheese clearly represents life."
• Paintings with about fifty Greek goddesses, all of whom could eat two of your average super models for breakfast. The more goddesses/gods/cupids/weird animals, the better. Also, yay for gratuitious nudity!
• Paintings of dead rabbits and birds hanging upside down on doors.
• Paintings of dogs. The furrier, the better!
• Leda and the Swan. I'm especially fond of this one, by Cezanne. I like the face the swan is making, all, "Hey baby, let's get it on."

Yum

I just finished my second (and final) Thanksgiving dinner. The first Thanksgiving dinner was yesterday and featured the PinkHairedFam and a couple of my friends, and also yummy cheese and super good Mommy Food and pie made by my dad. My dad makes really excellent pie.

The second Thanksgiving dinner involved a bunch of my friends and a lot of jokes and vegetarian stuffing (I heart stuffing!) and yummy potatoes and green beans and a salad that was bought just for little veggie me!

And now I am curled up in my bed, all snuggly and warm with my laptop, posting with the magic of WIFI. I plan to rub my full belly and go to sleep.

And I am thankful. For everything.

Hey Kids,

The PinkHairedFamily is in town for Thanksgiving. (Which we are actually having tomorrow, as I have to work Thursday and this way my friends can come. Damn the man and his setting the date for Thanksgiving, that's what we say!)

PinkHairedFamily is actually a bit of a misnomer, since they do not actually all have pink hair. Wouldn't it be great if they did, though? I shall have to work on this. I think I could convince my dad, and possibly my mom, but I definitely will have to dye my brother's hair in his sleep if I want this to work. Fortunately, he's sleeping on my couch this week.

So far La Familia de PinkHairedGirl has spent most of their time grocery shopping and eating. They went out to the Barnes Museum and Valley Forge yesterday, but I chose to sleep since I'd been at work all night the day before. Today, however, we went out to the Italian Market and purchased a hell of a lot of fancy cheese, which I am super excited about. (Philly peeps! There's fancy cheese at my house! Check it out! Or don't, more for me!) There was also an unfortunate period of time spent deciding whether to get veal or pork in a butcher shop, during which I got to observe some sausage being made. It was great, except - EW!

We also went to Trader Joe's and the Fresh Grocer, where I failed to convince them that what we really needed was a Tofurkey. Well, actually, I tried to convince them we needed a "Tofu Turkey," which appears to be a Tofurkey rip off, and probably not as good. In any case, they were not convinced.

Then we went to Jones, this crazy comfort food/fusion restuarant. I had tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, which was a very excellent thing to eat on a cold rainy night, but raised questions like "Is it okay to dunk your sandwich in your soup in a hip restaurant?" (A: yes) and "What kind of wine goes with grilled cheese?" (A: white).

I leave you with this conversation:
Dad: What size Crisco should I buy? (context: to make pie)
Mom: Is that the smallest size they have? What's she going to do with that much Crisco?
Me: I do enjoy sticking my hands in it.
(laughter)
Me: It's squishy and fun.
Dad: Just what kind of pervert are you?

The Way Things Should Be

When I am queen of Corporate America (which will be any day now), laptop bags will be pink and sparkly, and have special pockets for knitting and tampons.

Pash + Ana Oxygen + The Blog + Mirah = Cutest Concert Ever!

You should all read Rowan's Review of the cutest concert ever.

Blue Hat!

This is a hat I made a while ago. I used this really pretty Manos del Uraguay yarn and a pattern from The Knit Stitch. (A book which, as you'll recall, I had to trek all the hell over Philly for. And it was worth it!)

This is the hat from above.

Phil says that the hat makes me look like a hoodlum (a knitting hoodlum!). I think the hat makes me look like a delinquent sixteen-year-old. The world seems to agree with me, since when I someone who is not me but looks strikingly similiar was going through a brief smoking phase due to some serious bereavement, I she got carded every single time she attempted to buy cigarettes while wearing this hat.

Here is the hat in progress. Note the craziness with the double pointed needles and the bits of yarn marking where to decrease and every thing! Making this hat was so much fun that I immediately made another one for Phil. His is made out of different yarn, so we don't like, match or anything, as that would be freaky and weird.

I Perform Gender/My Outfit Is Very Complicated

I had one of those outfits on yesterday where I just kind of put on a bunch of my favorite clothes, and it kind of worked but kind of didn't. I started out by wearing a men's short sleeved shirt and tie, as I enjoy rocking the tie. (I tell people that I think it gives me an aura of professionalism.) Then I put on some Hello Kitty barettes, to give my performance of gender an ironic touch.

All of this would have been fine, especially since my lipstick matched my tie and everything. But then I decided to wear my kitty hoodie, with the matching mittens that are shaped like paws.

All of this came to a head after Rowan and I got Indian food before going to The Cutest Concert Ever. We had finished eating, and I was attempting to assemble my outfit before leaving the restaurant. I was having some difficulty, because the mittens were on strings, and I had to thread the string through the hoodie, and I also had my shoulder bag and tie and everything to worry about. So I'm kind of fumbling about and rambling on about my various outfit components, and at some point I mentioned that I also had Hello Kitty earmuffs, but I thought they were a little to much.

There were too girls at the table next to us, and they were utterly fascinated with the whole ordeal. At one point one of them leaned over and muttered, "This is just too strange!" to her dining companion. Which just goes to show you how easily shocked people are.

So I think the moral of this story is that I should probably try to stick to one freakish piece of clothing per outfit. Also, I later discovered that I was also wearing Hello Kitty socks that totally matched my Hello Kitty earmuffs!

Finally, Some More Vagina Talk Around Here

Okay, is it just me, or is the Ambience: Warp visualization for WinAmp totally Twattish?

I'm serious, people. The round hole in the center. The ridges. The occasional, um, gushes of color. I sit and stare at it, and I feel as though some sort of futuristic technology has made me very tiny (a la "Honey I Shrunk the Kids") and I'm falling into a giant vagina. Except that the vagina is weird colors, and I don't eventually hit the cervix. And also the vagina is dancing to Belle & Sebastian.

Oh No, My Social Life Is Just Too Active!

Arrrgh. I think I don't think I have any free time at all for the next two weeks. Work, family coming to visit, concert, movie night, Thanksgiving stuff, two new local knitting groups (at the one today, I learned how to make socks!).

It's all fun stuff (except work), and I'm excited about all of it, but it also kind of makes me want to crawl into my cave and growl at anyone who tries to come talk to me. Or, you know, sit and home knitting and watching Buffy all day.

I think I may just quit sleeping.

I Don't Dust

More random digicam: When we moved, I discovered a perfect foot print in the dust in between the layers of my desk.

New Yorker Quote/Fear of Running Out of Words

From a review of Master and Commander in the New Yorker:

"So it is at the start, with the Surprise off the coast of Brazil, easing through the kind of sea that would cause Homer to nudge you in the ribs and whisper, 'Wine-dark. Told you so.'"

On the one hand, I'm like, "Dude, awesome line." On the other hand, I'm like, "Dude, it's a movie review. There's no need to be dropping Homer all over the place, even if it is in the New Yorker." (He also name checks "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.”)

I think the reason I'm bothered by this is my unrational fear that I will some day run out of words. (Hey, it's another Cynthia is Completely Insane moment! I know how you all love those.) I have this fear that one day I will just run out of things to write/say - I will have used up every beautiful combination of words, every clever reference, every story. I mean, sure, when I do run out, I can just get a whole new bunch of friends who haven't heard the old words yet, but there will still be this blog, which will become tiresome and repetitive, and there is still the dream that some day I will write things that will be (hold your breath and knock on wood) published.

So I find myself, sometimes, wanting to hoard my words, to save them up. (For what? Who knows.) Part of this is almost reasonable, since if I blog something it means I can't tell the same story to all of my friends. (And let me tell you guys, you all are missing out on some damn funny hand gestures and funny voices every time you say, "Yeah, I read it on your blog!") And I probably won't run out of words, especially given my tendency to absorb slang and use it innapropriately. But maybe I should start learning another language, just in case.

RSS Ahoy

So I'm trying out this new bloglines thing, because I think it will make me, uh, "more productive."

And I have to say: People. Get on the RSS feed train. It's not that hard.

That is all.

Someone Is Stealing My Ideas

Exhibit A: This entry, dated December 3rd, 2002, in which I talk about Gay Monkey Robot Pirates.

Exhibit B: This webcomic, dated October 23, 2003, in which they discuss Monkey Robot Pirates.

I think I should at least get the shirt for free.

On Cloning

I've been talking about clones a lot, recently, for some reason. It started because I had this long talk with my manager and the head programmer at work about what would happen if we were cloned. (I would make my clone work all the night shifts.) Then of course I was thinking about the whole having a clone idea, so I've been talking about it with various other people.

Emmett decided my clone would be named Synthia, which is overly cute in that pun way, but a good name for a Cyn clone nonetheless.

I think I would have a major love-hate with Synthia, if she did exist. On the one hand, I think the things I dislike in myself would annoy me even more in another person. I have this tendency already - when people I know exhibit traits/behavior I find embarassing/annoying/bad but also worry that I have myself, it drives me completely insane, because I'm filled with an anger-shame combo that's half directed at myself. So then I react by becoming even madder at the person doing whatever it is, because they're indirectly make me mad at myself.

But enough about how I'm completely insane. I'm also really into the idea of having a clone, because all the stuff I do that other people find annoying but I find really amusing my clone would also find amusing. My clone and I would totally crack each other up all the time. Synthia would get all the jokes I make that I don't even really expect anyone else to get! And we could sit around knitting and watching Buffy all the time! And I could borrow her clothes, which would of course be super cool. And she would go to indie rock shows with me! And she would totally go along with all of my crazy ideas. And she wouldn't be frightened when I get all crazy-hyper-bouncy and my voice goes into registers only dolphins can hear, because she would be right there with me! Oh man, having a clone would be so fucking awesome.

Except, of course, that traditionally the clone is the evil one, and some people have made arguments that I am already the evil one. I don't necessarily agree - after all, when Phil and I were playing Twister and one of our friends described it as "Strawberry Shortcake versus the Devil," I was not the one being described as the Devil. I would have to say that if forced to choose the evil one of the Casa de Porkmenstrual residents, at least 8 of 10 people would not pick me.

But even if she wasn't the evil one, Synthia would probably drink all my beer and sleep with my friends. I mean, she is my clone, after all. And when faced with someone to blame all the consequences of her actions on . . . even if I wasn't arrested, I probably would be persona non grata in every bar in town. And I wouldn't be able to go anywhere without running into someone who at least thought they had slept with me.

Of course, I would totally have sex with my clone. I mean, hell, even if I didn't plan on doing it, I know what we're like when we're drunk. And you know what they say - No one knows you like another you. Plus, it would totally clear up any lingering doubts about whether or not I'm shit in bed.

The Table

We went from, "Holy shit that's hideous" to "We must own this" in about 30 seconds.

Then we carried it home on the 21 bus.

As We Go Up We Go Down

I went and saw Guided by Voices yesterday. I'm not a huge GBV fan, but Emily made me a mix cd of their stuff entitled "GBV Dance Party," and I really liked it, despite the fact that when I played it at work people were constantly asking if my speakers were broken. (To which I reply, "No, it's supposed to sound like that. It's lofi.")

The opening band, Ambulance LC, was pretty good. As Rowan put it, "They're definitely not god awful, and that's what we look for in an opening band."

As for GBV . . . I have never seen a band chug so much onstage, let alone a band where all of the members are over 40. Robert Pollard seemed kind of drunk when he came on stage, and he didn't get any more sober. He also was very into jumping up and down and kicking his legs in the air, which was very impressive (and amusing). I was also very impressed by his ability to smoke while singing.

I hadn't really pegged Guided by Voices as a guy band, but the concert last night was definitely overwhelmingly male. I was kind of frightened by the mass of white straight men in one place. But it was a really fun concert. There was a definite, "Hey, none of us can dance, so let's all jump up and down and point our fingers and scream a lot!" I think I used up my bouncing allotement for the next week. I love enthusiastic concerts!

I think one of the reasons I enjoyed the concert so much, other than enjoying the music and the dancing, is my love of people who are old enough to know better and just don't care. I find middle-aged men who act like they're my age to be intensely adorable. I just want to pinch their cheeks and feed them gin.

Plus, it's their job to get drunk on stage and have a whole room full of people screaming about how awesome they are. And they've been doing it for the last twenty years. How cool is that? I totally need to be a rockstar.

Pretty Well Accessorized For A Californian

I am so excited about this whole "fall" thing.

It's not really about the weather, although the weather is nice. I'm digging the whole sunny but cold in a sharp breezy but not completely fucking freezing way.

It's the clothes.

Oh man, am I ever excited about busting out the fall/winter clothes. I changed my outer layer of clothing about three times yesterday. I love my winter clothes! The hats! The scarves! The other hats! The gloves! The coats! Oh, sweet jesus, the coats.

Right now the weather is just right for me to rock the thrift store polyester coats and my zebra print coat, and when it gets just a little colder I'll be able to wear my brand new fake fur coat (as well as my older fake fur coat.).

I am a total winter rockstar, and I can't wait.

Of course, there is my total lack of sensible winter shoes. But y'all know I love shoe shopping. This is so the perfect excuse to buy those bootgasm-giving boots.

Also - knitting - perfect winter activity!

I Want My Own Kid's Show . . . On Cinemax

I've decided I should have my own children's television show. This show would feature:

• Stumpy, the three-legged bunny-squirrel. I actually discovered Stumpy the three-legged bunny squirrel on the El Platform today. He only had three legs, and a little puff stump of a tail like a bunny, and he kind of hopped like a bunny due to the lack of one of his back legs. He was so freakin' adorable. And yet Phil refused to let me take him home as a pet. My roommate is a heartless bastard.
  
• Fisty the Rabbit. Fisty hops down the bunny trail. Then Fisty hops down the bunny hole . . .
  
• Cancer Phallus Happy Funtime. Cancer Phallus may or may not be a Pokemon. I choose you, Cancer Phallus!
  
• Sister Fister, my death metal Barbara Streisand cover band.
  
• Many other fun adventures for children.
  

In other news, today I bought the best table ever (It's gold. It has a glass top. Picture coming soon.), drank bubble tea, was a vagabond, was locked out of my apartment for a long time, dressed like a rockstar, and discovered that I can take my pants off without unbuttoning or unzipping them. The last may or may not be featured on my children's show.

More Digicam

This is my "confused" face. Seen most often when I am considering my options, or when my code is being bad.

You Say That Like It's a Bad Thing

FrontPage magazine has the Best. Article. Ever. about my Alma Mater.

It ends "Oberlin embodies a far-Left paradise of agitation, Marxist activism and sexual licentiousness. It is, in short, a model of the Left’s paradise. It is specifically for this reason that it resembles most traditional Americans’ version of Hell."

It's enough to make me miss the old place . . . Those were the days, eh?

(link via clap clap blog)

Eye See

Look, everyone! It's a picture of my eye!

I Am So Punk Rock

This morning, I:

Cut the bottom off the t-shirt I was going to wear to work, as I decided it was too long. I had actually been meaning to do this for a while, and just not gotten around to it. This was a shirt I had already cut the sleeves off of and then sewn them back on in a different configuration. It prompted a conversation with my manager where he said, "That's a new shirt - wait, no it's not," and I said, "It's an old shirt, but I cut it up more," and he said, "Oh, I see."

Blotted my lipstick on a pantyliner, because we were completely out of toilet paper/tissues/paper napkins, any sort of paper product at all. We had notebook paper, I guess, but I didn't think of it. (I'm generally not at my best until I've been awake at least a couple of hours and had some coffee.)

And yes, by "punk rock" I mean "generally unfit to be an adult."

Then tonight I went and saw the director's cut of Aliens with a bunch of my friends. I got through it without shrieking like a girl, but only through a strenuous routine of staring at my hands and concentrating on thinking about Catholic schoolgirls having sex whenever it looked like anything vaguelly frightening was about to happen. The inside of my brain was pretty much, "They're all going to die! They're all going to die! Catholic schoolgirls having sex! Catholic schoolgirls having sex! They're all going to die!"

("So how is that different from your normal brain, Cynthia?" you ask. Oh, you're quite the kidder, you are.)

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday, Daddy!

Have an awesome day! (Don't do anything I wouldn't do.)

PS. You're officially turning Old As the Hills this year, right?

Knitting on Public Transit

I've been rocking the knitting on public transit lately. It's fun, I think people respect the knitting. I notice people watching me a lot (but in a non-creepy way!). People are always asking if I have enough room and things.

Today on the bus, an older woman sitting next to me asked where I got my yarn, and then we talked about knitting for a while. (She had just given all her knitting stuff to her son's girlfriend, and then decided she wanted to make a sweater.) I gave her the addresses for the two yarn stores in Center City, since I happened to have cards from both of them in my wallet.

Then a guy around my age sat next to me, and he talked to me about knitting also, although it was more of a curious "Just how the heck do you do that?" type of thing.

I really enjoy talking to people on the bus. Well, the not crazy type of people. I never strike up conversations, but it's always fun when someone notices something you're doing or wearing and talks to you about it for a while.

Finally, a Movement I Can Get Behind (So To Speak)

By the way, if you, like President Bush, need protection from non-crappy porn, you can just send the porn to me and I'll make sure it doesn't hurt anyone. DVDs only, please, and no acrylic nails. Acrylic nails in porn make me shriek almost as much as horror movies.

I See You Looking

To whoever searched my site for the phrase 'i love you cyn!' - you make me smile when I look in my Activity Log.

To whoever searched for 'please please please mention this so I can become the envy of all my friends.' - now you are.

To whoever searched for 'dog and pussy' - you are a sick, sick person, and should go away and not come back, please.

Moment of Realization

I came to a realization after flipping through this Nerve photo shoot.

I want absolutely nothing to do with skinny hipsters having sex.

I mean, I'm sure it's fun for them and all, but it really does absolutely nothing for me.

Strangely, I feel a lot better now.

The Blog Mafia Is Growing!

A ton of my friends have new websites/blogs lately, so here's the hook-up before I get around to putting them in my blogroll:

Neil finally caved after we made up a fake blog for him. Neil is consistantly fabulously dressed, funny, and throws one heck of a Halloween party.

Tim is funny, and has been known to buy people ice cream.

Jesus' real name is Jim, but sometimes I like to pretend it's the other way around.

Plus, a picture of me dressed up as an Anime Girl for Halloween.

Clearly, I Am A Tortured Artist

So going through my digicam pics, I found all of these pictures I took of myself sometime in August. I think I had just done something to my hair, or else I was just feeling especially super modelly, because I have about twenty pictures of myself making different faces. I think these two may be my favorite, just out of sheer ridiculousness.

Oh, woe is me! Look how sad I am! I am sad and tortured, and wearing green eyeshadow!

Why is life so hard? I need some comforting, please.

At least I'm ridiculous and self aware.

Conversation from a Bad Date

Her: There's just something about you, I can't stop thinking about you.
Inside my head: It's the tits.
Her: Maybe it's your eyes? I just don't know.
Inside my head: Tits. Tits. TITS.

She had two of those tree shaped air fresheners printed with the American Flag in her car, a tattoo of the Grateful Dead bear on her leg, and her favorite band is Creed.

I made up an excuse (Okay, okay, I actually pulled the Bereaved card. I am a bad person.), went home and immediately started drinking.

So I guess my Halloween was pretty scary.