Thursday, December 31, 2009

Aunt or Auntie?

My sister and her husband, Mr. and Mrs. MM, have had their first child! He was born December 30th, 10:24pm and weighed 7 lb 4 oz. He is the cutest friggin' baby EVER and has a ridiculous amount of red hair.

I am so ridiculously excited to cuddle my brand new nephew! I leave on the 1st and almost wish I could leave earlier.

But considering I haven't cleaned, done laundry, run all my errands or packed - the 1st is still the best option.

Friday, December 25, 2009

Merry Fuckmas

Christmas ceased to be my favorite holiday a long time ago. There comes a point when you become all too aware of the family drama and the stresses of the holiday season while still living at home - even then it is tolerable because everyone wears a happy face. When I was in college I was still going home for Christmas, except for the year spent with Miss L and Miss K in Germany. Since then, though, Christmas has been this awkward day spent with strange families or, in this case, in a cloud of marijuana smoke and in an empty bar.

Christmas eve is a great night for the twenty or even thirty somethings - unless you have kids, Christmas eve is just another occasion to stay out late drinking. No need to tuck in to wait for Santa to come. I had a pretty good Christmas eve, really, especially when all the other bars closed and everyone came up to my bar to drink. By the end of the night most of the food was gone and I had made some decent money in tips.

Christmas is another story. I don't believe in God. I don't believe in Jesus. I also don't celebrate any pagan holidays like solstice or Yule or anything. It should be like any other day. December 25th should be just like October 25th or January 25th or any other cold, rainy, wintery month. It must be the media, the entire marketing field, the cities with their lights - they are all reminding you that today is Christmas and that it is a day to be spent with family. I don't even necessarily get along with my family all that well and this stupid day makes me miss them. And it feels weird to be part of other families' Christmas gatherings, too.

I think my best time this entire evening was sitting in the bar with another bitter non-believer, drinking hot buttered rum and bitching about Christmas.

I didn't used to hate this day like I do now. Hope everyone else enjoyed theirs.

I went to a friend's place for Christmas dinner. Late. It was cold and they don't have a microwave. Everyone was smoking pot and staring at the television. The friend who was my main reason for being there wasn't even inside. I sat quietly, wishing I could have entered the night with a better attitude. Or wishing I smoked pot so I could join the stoned masses. But no, I just let my hair and clothing absorb the dank scent while I moped in a crowd. Stupid holidays aimed at making single people feel lonely. If I didn't know better I'd blame fucking e-Harmony or some shit company, trying to make us feel like we need a partner to be happy.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness

It says it in the muthafuckin' declaration of independence - we are entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Or, I mean, that's what we were going for.

I pursue happiness a lot. I don't consider it to be an always elusive goal, there are definitely times when I am happy. But Happiness, once reached, is not a constant state. A person must work to maintain happiness. Sometimes, in my pursuit of happiness upkeep, crazy things happen.

1. I've quit my day job. I've always felt it is not a good idea to quit a job without having another job lined up but I've also determined that if something makes you absolutely miserable - don't do it. I like the goal of my job, I just can't stand the means. I would wake up dreading it, I would go to sleep dreading it, I would spend all my time dreading it. Not really on the path to happiness there.

2. I've consumed copious amounts of alcohol. Now, this may seem counterproductive, alcohol being a depressant and all - but as many of us in the world know, going out to bars and parties can be a lot of fun and going to bars and parties is the most fun when you and everyone else are similarly intoxicated. Being the sober person can be exasperating.

This weekend was a good example of alcohol in pursuit of fun and happiness - nothing bad happened (hooray) and we all had jolly good times. There was dancing and singing (I did some karaoke) and flirting and Apples to Apples and talking and laughing and crafting and brunching and all sorts of happy things.

3. I have been filling my time with friends and activities. Sometimes I can really enjoy sitting at home and reading or writing or drawing or doing yarn sports, but other times I need to be around friends. The past week or so have been packed and it only continues in that grain:
Thursday was girls' night, Friday was Miss S's return and live music at the Alaskan, Saturday I worked but had tons of fun, Sunday was craft brunch and the 'SINful' Holiday Party, yesterday I had dinner at the L house, this afternoon I'll be hanging out and drawing with my friend Mr. J, tomorrow I have a dinner party to attend at Miss J's house, Thursday is Santacon Juneau, Friday is a fundraiser and ugly sweater party, Saturday I work again, as goes for Sunday, then it gets to a week which is too far away to have planned for, but it is just about Christmas time.

4. Inadvisable vacations are my forte. I will be leaving town for three weeks. THREE WEEKS! I have just quit my job and I am a paycheck to paycheck kinda gal, anyway. I should probably not run off on vacation for three weeks, but somehow I've been pretty good and I have enough money in my bank account and enough coming in that I can go to Oregon for a week to see my sister and my nephew to be and then go bask in Mexico's sunshine. And maybe I'll come back with no money (except what I've set aside to be sure I can pay rent and whatnot) but I will be happy and another job is inevitably around the corner. I've been underemployed before but never for long.

So, all these strange and inadvisable things, are they making me happy? Yes. I am pretty happy. I am happy with my decisions and happy with my future plans (the two month plan, I don't have a plan beyond that, really) and happy with right now, sitting on my couch and blogging about this nonsense.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Dating a Professional

Today I went to the dentist for the first time in at least three years. I figured I have a dental plan right now, so I had better go and get things taken care of. I got a brutal teeth cleaning and had to schedule more than one future appointment to get some cavities filled.

For those of you with absolutely perfect teeth, congratulations. My teeth have deep grooves and I also enjoy chocolate. I don't think these babies had a chance.

That's not my point, though. I didn't come here to point out my dental imperfections, though my dentist did point out that they could probably stick something to the weird half tooth so it would look like a normal human tooth. My point is, and you can tell by the title: dating professionals.

I didn't ask for recommendations for a dentist. I didn't read up on it. I chose my dentist based on proximity and the fact that I walked by his office most days. It's right by my office. I determined, when we were introduced, that my dentist is not a bad looking guy. A handsome looking professional like that - probably married.

But could you imagine dating a dentist? OK, again with the readers with the perfect teeth, whatever. I have crooked teeth, that weird half tooth (it's a genetic mutation or something - no super human powers), and I am more likely to use my floss for fixing something than its actual purpose.

The pressure of dating a dentist would be TOO MUCH. I can just picture going out to dinner with a dentist and excusing myself to the powder room every 15 minutes to check to see if things are in my teeth, check my breath, make sure my gums aren't even slightly swollen. I'd probably floss and brush directly after finishing the meal so that when we are leaving the restaurant and I smile and thank him for the lovely dinner, he isn't horrified by the piece of pepper stuck between my two front teeth or something.

And that's just the first date, right? What about when you have sleep overs. You would probably have to carry a toothbrush with you just in case you end up sleeping over. Then you get there and you wonder if you start making out or if you wait to brush your teeth. Are you going to have coffee? Or is he concerned about stains - should you be concerned about stains? And then when you are going to bed, are you trying to brush your teeth for just as long as he brushes his? Are you watching the motions he uses? Or maybe you are eying his sonic toothbrush and thinking that it is way stronger than your... never mind.

All I'm saying is that I could never date a dentist because I'd be way too worried that he'd be scrutinizing my teeth and dental hygiene 24/7 and I just can't deal with that. But maybe you are planning ahead and figure that if you end up marrying the dentist you can have free teeth whitenings and you'll have the best in dental hygiene technology and that you'll never have to worry about whether you have a dental plan again. After all, would I be so self conscious about my teeth had I had them cleaned professionally in the past three years? Or had I maybe gotten little ol' halfy the tooth crowned? Or had I gotten braces when I was in grade school and it would have completed my dorky look?

A couple notes:
The half tooth is half longways - it's a super skinny tooth. I know, it's sort of cruel that I'd get an anorexic looking tooth when the rest of me is anything but.
I did have a retainer in elementary school, my orthodontist was all about the minimal equipment to get a job done, little did he know (apparently) that elementary school kids are horrible about wearing their retainers or that my parents would decide to move and his whole plan would be foiled.
Between my hygienist and my dentist, I was talked into buying one of the sonic toothbrushes - I used it for the first time tonight and OH EM GEE was that strange. I hear you get used to it. I kind of sprayed toothpaste all over. But my teeth do feel clean. And satisfied.

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Alt Art AK


Mister D, Miss B, Mister M and I did it. We got the art, we did the publicity, we put together the show and we were a hit.

For many we may have been just another stop, for some we may have been the red headed stepchildren of the art scene, but for some we were the only stop, we were it, where people wanted to be.

We featured around 12 artists, we had everything displayed properly, though we definitely got a little creative with some of our displays, and we even sold some art. Hooray!

We will be keeping the place open by our volunteer hours for the next few weeks or a month.

If you are in Juneau and would like to drop in, we're at 127 S Franklin next to the skate shop.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

A Woman Silenced or a Woman Scorned

Warning: This post is one of a very serious nature about a very serious and potentially controversial topic: Sexual assault. It is a personal account and I hope that through my sharing, there are others who feel like they need no longer be silent.

I recognize that, as someone living in a small community, this post may elicit some concern or some criticism. This is what I choose to share, no more. This is as far as I go, no further.

If your iPod got stolen, if your car got broken into, if you were involved in a barroom brawl, you would talk about it. You would complain to your friends that now you have to buy a new iPod, that your stereo was so nice and now you can't afford a better one, about how the fight started and ended and how everyone should see the other guy. Bad things happen. You can talk about it.

But not always. When a woman is subject to sexual assault or domestic violence, she is silent. Women make up excuses for why their significant other hit them, they contemplate all the reasons it may have been their fault that they had non-consensual sex. I was wearing a short skirt. I was flirting. I don't really remember what happened because I had been drinking, but maybe I did want it. A woman may feel more guilt for being a victim than the perpetrator feels for sexually assaulting a woman who did not consent.

Only a very small number of instances of sexual assault are reported. To speak up is to be scorned. A woman I know filed a complaint about sexual harassment in the workplace and not only has nothing come of it, people mumble and grumble about her stirring up trouble. There is also a question of what constitutes sexual assault? That would be sex without consent, right? But consent is this awful gray area. If a woman is blackout drunk, can she consent to sex?

I choose break the silence. I choose to speak. I will not speak in full detail, but it is a story shared by many women, many of my friends.

I enjoy drinking. A lot. It's probably awful, I started drinking in college, engaging in college binge drinking culture. I would drink copious amounts of alcohol on my weekend nights, waking up to horrible hangovers and a very patchy memory. It didn't stop when I graduated college, though. I work at a bar myself and hang out with other people who work in this industry and I'm not going to hide it, many, if not all of us, are alcoholics by some definition or another. We drink often and we drink a lot.

I can't count the number of times I have gotten carried away and consumed so much alcohol that I have been slurring my words, that I have blacked out, that I have vomited. It's an unacceptably large number, I assure you.

Not too long ago, I awoke in my bed with a throbbing headache, a dry mouth, and hardly any memory of the night before. On some mornings like this, I might chuckle to myself and think, “Must have been a good night.” but on that particular day I awoke feeling awful. It wasn't just my pounding head or my dehydration, nor was it the fact that I had fallen asleep face first in my pillow with my clothing still on. I had no idea how I had gotten home or when I had gotten home or what I had been doing for however many hours prior to having gone home. I did my best to recover, showering, drinking liters of water – then I went to work. In the afternoon I received a text message teasing about me and a man – I suddenly remembered that he and I had been talking – no – making out. Not someone I would choose to make out with, but we all make mistakes. Then I got more and more teasing. Friends texting, friends who dropped by.

Then I got a message on facebook that said, “I know.” and I was confused. Was this like a teen slasher flick? You know what I did last summer and now you are going to kill me? I didn't get an answer, which was strange, but I have a lot of friends who smoke a lot of pot, so I don't consider any interaction too weird.

On Monday I got a phone call from one of my best friends. She asked if there was something I wanted to tell her and I was again frustrated that everyone seemed to know about my making out with this guy. I responded with, “Oh, about making out with [man's name]? I figured everyone already knew.” She was quiet for a moment and said, “What I heard was not making out, Melissa, what I heard was much worse. Did you?” “Did I what, have sex with him? No. Is that what he is saying?”

But then I thought about that night and I realized that I didn't have any recollection of having sex with this person, but had I possibly had sex with this person? I concentrated as hard as I could and managed to piece together a few more vague memories, patches, here and there. I told my friend I didn't want to talk about it and that I had to go. I ended our conversation and spent the rest of the evening locked in my mind, trying to uncover any clues. I scoured phone and social networking and, aha, I discovered a very drunken message sent, likely via facebook mobile, rather incoherent, encouraging the person to call me. No recollection of sending that. In a sober state, or even in a less drunk state, I would not kiss this person, let alone have sex with this person. I even recall pulling away a friend of mine who had been talking to him, a couple years ago.

What had I done?

Well, really, I had no idea what I had done, but the slurring, sloppy drunk me had apparently done something. And not only that, apparently everyone knew about it. Could I have consented to whatever happened? I could have possibly said. “Oh, yes, please!” but whether it is strict law or just ought to be, a person in an altered state cannot really consent.

Here I was – here I AM – feeling awful, staying at home, avoiding people and places, thinking constantly about what I had done, what he had done, knowing that I was a “slut” and that he was a “stud” and that I was looked down upon and mocked and that he was probably congratulated and high-fived. That I had been a victim of sexual assault, and that he will be unaffected. I went to dinner with my friend who had informed me of the depth of the rumor and she got me to talk. I told her everything and I told her how hopeless it all was. There was absolutely nothing I could do but let it all blow over and try to never allow myself to be in that position again. But there is one thing I can do.

I, a victim, choose not to suffer in silence, but to share this story. I share this story here because I can't do anything better but make people aware of a major problem. It's nearly a week later and I have no evidence that anything has occurred, had their been witnesses they may have said I wanted it, I also have no proof of my level of intoxication. To file a report, to try to press charges – it is futile. I would waste time and money, I would, like the woman I know, stir trouble, and I would be stressed out. And when it is all over and the case is dismissed because there is nothing really there but a woman who says she was too drunk to consent – I'll be a woman who is both scorned AND silenced.

So if I must choose, scorn me for sharing this story, but do not silence me. By sharing my story, I feel that there is one more voice calling for laws to be changed so that women are not victimized by the legal system as well as by the men who take advantage of them or assault them.

One of the worst things is that, despite having been taken advantage of and having to hear the worst of it as a rumor, I still have to force myself to call it what it is – I feel guilt and I feel shame and I am the victim.

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Middle Ground

I gave up drinking for most of the month of November. Then on Thanksgiving I re-entered the world of the drinking and I've discovered something.

I don't need to be a tee-totaller. Nor should I be a complete shit show. I need to find a middle ground.

I went from completely sober to complete shit show on Thursday/Friday and now it's time to find a balance.

But first, to take advantage of the other opportunities offered on Thanksgiving weekend, I am off to the Public Market with the roomie.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Cannibal Canard

Amid a puppy filled evening of glee, I had a rude awakening. I sat at the table cuddling Miss B's new puppy, finding comfort in the furry ball of warmth as the tale was told.

Miss N, in a very serious voice, begins telling a story, which she warned would take a little time.

When I was living in San Antonio, a friend of mine went to this party with a male friend of hers. They were drinking and having fun and she met this guy - they hit it off. The two of them were making out all through the night, they even went into some room and, you know, hooked up. She gave him a blowjob or something. Then he said he was going home and he really wanted her to come with him. She said that she would, but she was having too much fun at the party and wanted to stay longer. He kept pushing, "Come on, come home with me, it'll be fun!" and she declined, but took his number, saying she'd call him and if they still had the same spark the next day, they would go from there. She stayed at the party, drinking and having fun, while he actually lingered past the time he declared he'd be leaving, trying again to convince her to go home with him. Now, she's sort of, you know, the type of girl who would definitely go home with a guy, but her friend she went to the party with pointed out that the guy seemed a little creepily desperate and she agreed that going home with him was a bad idea. She reiterated that she would give him a call and went home with her friend instead.
The next day, she woke up with a rash around her mouth, it was red, swollen, had pustules. She freaked out and called her doctor, they had had a cancellation and told her if she could get there in the next 15 to 20 minutes they could see her. She drove across San Antonio and arrived at the doctor, explaining the rash around her mouth. The doctor assured her it wasn't Herpes, but he didn't know what it was. He gave her a topical medication he said should, at least, lessen the swelling and bring down the rash, informing her that he would call her if he discovered what rash was ailing her.
Two days later she was at work and received a call from her doctor, his voice was urgent when he asked her to come to his office right away. She explained that she was at work and that she couldn't get there then, but offered to come in later. The doctor told her his news had precedence over work and that she should come immediately. She managed to get away from work and arrived at the doctor's office in reasonable time, where she was met not only by her doctor, but by two men in uniforms. She was frightened. The doctor explained to her that the rash she had acquired was very rare and could be contracted in one of two ways, either through the consumption of large amounts of human flesh, or through close contact with someone who has consumed large amounts of human flesh. The doctor instructed the girl to explain how she may have gotten the rash and she described the incidents of her night. The officers asked if she had any way to contact the man and she recalled that she had his phone number and provided it to the officers.
Within days, the home of the man had been located and a swat team was dispatched to the location. When they entered the home they searched and found the remains of three partially eaten bodies of women in the freezer.
So, there you go, don't be promiscuous! I was horrified. Miss N knew the girl, or knew the girls friend, something like that. She said the party had been mostly her friends. I suddenly questioned my safety - I had gone home with a guy before - what if he had been a serial killing cannibal! I clutched Nova more tightly, even wondering about past boyfriends, were they serial killing cannibals? Were they just waiting until the right time to kill me and feast on my chunky man-calves?

I finished the night at the bar and snuggled with Nova-puppy all night, thinking of cannibal killers when I would awaken to her twitch or whimper.

This morning I decided to do the smart thing and research this cannibal canard, coming up with a handful of questions sites talking about a friend's roommate's brother's girlfriend's friend, a friend of a friend, the friend of a friend of a cousin, all with a similar story about meeting a guy at a and making the fateful decision to reign in those promiscuous and lusty desires, staying with friends instead of leaving with the charismatic stranger, only to find out, when a rash is diagnosed, that she has narrowly avoided a fate worse than death - death followed by dinner.

I'm a skeptic, generally, so I generally assume that all these six degrees away story tellers have been audience to the same urban legend that ruined my sleep last night and made me swear to change my liberated ways.

The only real story I saw out there was about a cannibal mother who killed her infant and ate its brains, she was suffering from psychosis, apparently. I think that is possibly more disturbing and, as in many a true story, there is no moral in sight. Sometimes life just sucks.

But right now I have a puppy to snuggle, so I won't let it get me down.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

The Old Days

Ashley at Writing to Reach You has been blogging through the school years. I don't think I can do one blog post per year, since my younger years are vague memories at best and the more recent years are full of debauchery and absurdity... Instead, I am going to break it down, writing a sentence or so about each year or so.

Preschool - we had swings. We had music time and I liked the triangle.

Kindergarten - our teacher was nice (I think all Kindergarten teachers have to be nice) and when we did an assignment we got to put a dot sticker on our ladybug and when we filled our ladybug we got a prize. Maybe if the prizes had been better I would have developed better habits.

First Grade - our teacher was mean and ugly, from my memory. Whenever we got in trouble we had to write to one hundred on a piece of graph paper with exactly 100 squares. I was already proving to be a lazy genius, as I would fill out the page systematically, being very aware of the pattern and understanding the efficiency of writing the same number repeatedly. I was a one woman assembly line of 1 to 2 digit numbers. I think I peed my pants in class once. I don't know why kids aren't allowed to go to the bathroom without permission.

Second Grade - Who did I even have? I think her name might have been Mrs. Carter. I think she was like your average teacher those days, with a bad sort of mushroom cut and frequently wearing corduroy jumpers. My mom and step dad got married. My sister Michele was born. I think we also moved to a new neighborhood, leaving a lot of friends behind.

Third Grade - Fourth Grade - I was in a 3rd-4th combined class. In 3rd Grade I remember we were supposed to do some sort of presentation in front of the class, I got so nervous I cried and declared that I couldn't do it. Mrs. Mulrooney threatened that I would get a 0, an F if I didn't do it. I took the poor grade. We watched The Princess Bride in class. My best friends were Rachel, who was in a different class, and Audrey. In fourth grade I used to hang out with Audrey all the time, even going to a Renaissance Faire dressed up. She had a schizo moment when I was at her house and I made her mom take me home in the middle of the night. That may have been the end of it. I was also friends with Nina and Morgan among others. I think I hit a boy at recess once.

Fifth Grade - Sixth Grade - I was again in a combined class, the Gifted and Talented Education classes were always combined. Maybe this is when I had Mrs. Carter. Yeah. We called her Mrs. Carterski. I don't know why. Who did I have for second grade? Montesano? Oh well. I had my first crush on a boy, Tyler Roberts. Friggin' Cody Dadew told him. This is when people first started to have boyfriends and girlfriends. I had one boy come up to me during recess and ask me if I wanted to go out with his friend. I said 'no' because I didn't think he was being serious. I wasn't that cool. I would play games like Miss Mary Mac at recess sometimes and Iesha said the word 'bitch." My dad was teaching me to play softball. I was going to be on a team.

Between Sixth Grade and Seventh Grade my family moved to Oregon. My sister and I didn't know anyone and we lived way far away from people so we played outside in the backyard wearing shorts with boots pretending we were in Jurassic Park or playing other weird games. Michele got stuck by her pants on a rock and Meg and I discovered her.

Seventh Grade - I had started a new school in a new state - the first day was on my birthday. A girl I had met while registering for school and had had a sleepover with once discovered that she could be cool and left me behind pretty much immediately. I think she stole my Fiona Apple CD. I made friends with Tricia and a girl named Velvet Lafaun, who is most likely in porn now. I was no longer in the classes for smart kids and I started doing worse in school, despite everything being easier. Tricia had to move and I became friends with Tyana and her group of friends. I committed vandalism and got sentenced to one day of in school suspension.

Eighth Grade - Still friends with many of the same people for a while, I staged an uprising in Tyana's crew, Katrina and I split off. I later became BFF with Kristin and Josie - we sat together in Satan Maffai's class. I was still a horrible student and spent more time mastering the art of folding notes than anything else. My sister Maddie was born. I tested really well and was to be put in all honors classes in high school, though Satan Maffai was opposed to this. A girl I knew got pregnant.

Ninth Grade - The friendships continued to shift and I had a big falling out with Kristin at the end of the year. I had a big crush on this boy, Brandon, but he had a big crush on Kristin. I wanted very much to be cool and still did pretty poorly in school, managing to just barely pass a lot of classes, despite being intelligent enough. I took lots of art classes, though I nearly failed one of those, as well. I just didn't turn stuff in.

Tenth Grade - I still wasn't doing amazingly well, but I started hanging out with some good influences, future valedictorians, some of them. I took more art classes, still had a big crush on Brandon, made friends with his girlfriend, who remained a close friend for the rest of high school and somewhat beyond. I used to write and illustrate notes with Laura and Rachel. Rachel makes amazing zines now. I still keep in touch with Laura as well, even though she moved. Laura, Allison and I made a ridiculous video based on our overactive imaginations and a number of films we had watched that weekend.

Eleventh Grade - I got straight A's for the first time in my life. I really turned things around and started to be a good student. I took every art class available and a number of social studies classes as well, but I had refused, for some stupid reason, to take AP History, choosing, instead to take the regular history classes. In my freshman year I had refused to take Biology instead of the regular science class because I couldn't get Katie to switch classes with me. I am pretty sure high school kids shouldn't be provided with choices. I was hanging out with a lot of the same people, but secretly (or not) wanted to be a punk rocker and used to hang out at "the rock" a lot.

Twelfth Grade - I was a much better student, I finally had my driver's license, and I felt like I had some pretty good friends. I was taking lots of independent study classes for art and lots of social studies classes, which is why I graduated with a Social Studies Honors Diploma. I had gone through a dozen or more crushes over the year and never managed to have a single boyfriend. I got stood up by a guy for prom. I was pretty ok with not having boyfriends and used to ask all my male friends to dance, usually not getting rejected, if I recall correctly. I was applying to colleges and was determined to go to a private college. My dad tried to talk me out of college and I won that argument easily. I was an attorney in Mock Trial that year and I had Mr. Hanson for a teacher for two classes and he was the greatest. This is when I decided that I would pursue politics instead of art for a career. I used to hang out a lot with my friend Megan too, I went to a party with her. I swore off drinking. During my last two years of high school I spoke to youth against drinking, drugs, and having sex before being ready. When I graduated we were allowed to walk in pairs or groups of three. Nathalie and I were going to walk together. Amanda asked me to join our group and Callie asked Nathalie. We both said yes, independently, and when we took the final walk, I ended up walking with Callie and Nathalie with Amanda. I worked at a pizza parlor with Allison and Nicole and there was a guy who was older than us who used to flirt with all the girls. During that summer Nicole and I worked for a week as flaggers at a road construction site.

Then I went to college and became the tree hugging, bleeding heart liberal that I am today.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

That's Just How I Roll

The past couple weeks have been filled with lots of bright and shiny ideas. A new art show in town, hooray! A new art project, hooray! New crocheting projects, hooray!

And Roller Derby.

I know, I know. You think it's because Whip It came out and I want to ride that wave. Well, I didn't see Whip It. Damn it. My friend Miss M (one of many, it gets confusing for me too) has had the goal for a little while now to start a derby league in Juneau and she chose fairly recently to feel out interest. Well, there has been a ton of interest. Apparently Juneau is full of girls who want to release some pent up aggression on wheels.

We've had our first planning meeting and we are working on finding a location, all getting our skates and pads and helmets, learning the rules and regulations, and, of course, coming up with names.

Names in Roller Derby are huge - it's ridiculous. Everyone needs a sweet name and you can't double up. My first choice was Melicious, but that's taken. Tons of names are taken, there is a database online so you can be sure you aren't breaking a cardinal rule of derby and going as a second Bloody Mary or something like that.

Right now my favorite option is "The Mean Red" which is pretty badass, refers to my defining feature, and is a literary reference all in one. Nobody steal my idea. I'll be angry. And I'm this close to being a roller girl and you don't want to fuck with a roller girl!

Monday, November 16, 2009

There's a name for that...

There is a name for how geeky I was.

I was just skimming through my RSS reader and saw that cracked had a piece referencing the kid from Jurassic Park. Must be Timmy. When I was younger, elementary school? Middle school? I'm not really sure - I wrote a story about the character, Timmy, going back to school. In the story, he went back and was constantly paranoid about dinosaurs, providing all other students with an easy target for mockery. At the end of the story, if I remember correctly, dinosaurs end up attacking the school and Timmy is vindicated. Then eaten.

Holy shit, guys, I was so nerdy, I wrote Jurassic Park FAN FIC. I had no idea what fan fic was, nor have I ever been nerdy enough to read it since my introduction to the term. Apparently, though, when I was a mere pre-teen, possibly an early teen, I was a horrible geek.

I would like to point out, however, that my fan fic was AWESOME because I was apparently as morbid and cynical as a tween as I am as an adult. I made the kid suffer the slings and arrows of a thousand bullies and then, when he was right, he gets gnawed on by T-Rex?

Probably raptors, actually.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Little Red Wagon

I've had a couple friends say that they may join me on the wagon - but it appears that I'm alone on a little red wagon because nobody else has decided that the cause is one that fits their lifestyles at the moment. That's fine with me. It could be fun to have fellow non-drinkers, but I can do it alone. I have at least one or two friends who aren't big drinkers and I can engage in non drinking activities with even my drinking friends. It's not so hard as one might think.

I've been pretty productive lately. I have been doing things with clubs and fundraisers and non-profits and working on the art show and other activities.

I've also been a voice of reason in the otherwise dramatic lives of some friends. It's funny. It's funny because I feel like I haven't experienced all that much in my relatively short life - I've had one functional relationship that lasted all of three months in proper form and continues somewhat as a shadow of a relationship since he and I continue to talk and intend to see each other again. But somehow I have a perspective on things such that I can provide reasonable advice?

And I may just say this every post, but I love my roommate. We have a lot of fun, even if we are just sitting around crocheting, or going to bars and crocheting, or watching horror movies and crocheting. I think I am going to end up with arthritis, like my grandma got, from all this crocheting.

Monday, November 9, 2009

No B & B, Plenty of Fun

I think I might be telling secrets, but I'll risk it.

When I was in college I was in a sorority (that's not the secret) and there were certain times when we were really focused on sisterhood and we had a simple rule: No B & B. No boys and no booze.

These brief periods were very brief - a week tops - and most of us had no trouble abiding, though some did find the rules quite restraining and would still drink and spend the nights with their boyfriends.

Right now, I feel like I'm living in an extended state of No B & B and, as usual, I'm having no trouble with it. Sure, having drinks is fun, but that didn't stop me from having fun without drinks. And sure boys are nice, but they aren't necessary. At least not for a girl who isn't attempting to create children.

Friday my roommate and I were finally feeling better. I spent that evening hanging out with my friend and neighbor Miss M along with a few other people. It was a super mellow night, the perfect way to spend an evening having just gotten over the Piglet Cold.

Saturday I helped set up for another breast cancer awareness event and fundraiser. I then went to my upstairs neighbors' apartment for a potluck they hosted with Coconut Bliss ice cream - the chocolate hazelnut was the best I tried. Of two flavors. After that Miss A and I headed to the fundraiser where we had a lovely time and where I won a flightseeing tour in the silent auction!

Post events, it was bar time. At first I wasn't sure if I'd be up to it, since bars without booze can be unpleasant but I headed out with the ladies and we had a great time dancing at the Rendezvous and the Imperial and listening to live music at the Alaskan before heading to the Bergmann for a nice wind-down.

Sunday was nice because Miss A made dinner and Meg and Travis played some acoustic sets at the bar.

Now it's back to work as usual!

Thursday, November 5, 2009


My roommate and I are both sick. We have barely left the house the past two days. We've even taken to ordering in food. Thanks to emergencies and poor timing, we were stuck with Domino's both nights. We're pitiful.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

On the Wagon

I am what would probably be considered a high functioning alcoholic. Not flattering, I know. I prefer the term "lush" but in all honesty, I drink 3 to 5 days a week and anywhere from one to several drinks a night. I still go to work everyday and on time, I still manage to plan art shows, be a part of clubs, be a good friend, pay my bills, etc.

It's not an addiction, so much as a habit - I don't NEED IT, I just have managed to spend most of my nights in the past few years in bars with drinks in hand with my friends. Half my friends are bartenders or servers, most of my friends I've actually be through my evenings spent in bars. They say this is a small drinking town with a big fishing problem.

Now, I am not giving up drinking forever and I'm not giving up drinking because I am concerned for my well being. I am giving up drinking from now until the holidays for some very specific reasons.

1. I can avoid some of the drama that's been going down if I'm not out drinking all the time. No, it's not really even my own drama, though I am somehow in the middle of it.

2. My tolerance will go down, so I'll be a cheap date again come Christmas.

3. I'll be saving money, lots of money, by not spending money on alcohol between now and the holidays. This means I'll have plenty of money for other things, like my trip to Mexico.

A side effect of this not drinking thing? I made two hats yesterday. In the evening. At the bars. I've taken my crocheting with me to give me something to do, since being drunk isn't an option. I'm going to the yarn store today, I'm making one for Mr. Pilot and one for Mr. CP and more for birthdays and Christmas to come. That's right, if you were hoping for a surprise this holiday season, forget about it - you are getting a hat. Maybe a scarf if you are really lucky.

Friday, October 30, 2009


OK, aside from having to work on my FAVORITE holiday, this weekend (starting with Thursday, though I still had to work through today) has been and will continue to be HEAVENLY.

Thursday was SPA DAY and involved waxing, a facial, jacuzzi, and a massage. Nothing to complain about there!

After the spa business I attempted to hold an alt art meeting, but thanks to illness and other obstacles, Miss B and I were the only ones to show. Luckily, my explanation of the issue with the JRE properties (they don't already insure their buildings or something?) piqued the attention of someone who may have a space to offer. Cross your fingers.

Then there was my first ever Costume Creation and Prep Party and it turned out really well! Miss A, Miss E, Mr. L, and Mr. R came to work on costumes, other people decided it would be a good idea to work on costumes, and still more people were just hanging around for all the fun.

All the fun being: Chippendales?

My friends are dressing as Patrick Swayze and Chris Farley from the SNL skit where both men are trying out for Chippendales. Here's the result of a bit of time and effort, some painting, some sewing, some cutting, some velcro...

So, tonight I have Mr. J's birthday, a housewarming and going away party at Miss L's new place, plus music at the 'Vous and tomorrow is real Halloween, which I'll be spending behind a bar, but people have been promising to come by and visit. Then Sunday is Miss A's birthday so I will be wearing purple and supporting the Vikings while enjoying a barbecue and maybe some bloody Marys after a long night. Hip hip hooray!

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

What the Future Holds

I got my PFD - that's right, FREE MONEY. Well, sort of. We all pay for it in the sense that it's from the rape and plunder of this fair land, but I figured I would use my blood oil money to get the hell out of this place for a little while.

In January I am packing up.

I found out that the campaign might not be quite over, but a booked ticket is a booked ticket, so here's the plan.

New Year's Day I fly to Redmond/Bend, Oregon where I hang out for a week while my sister pops out my nephew. I will see family and get to hold a lovely baby boy. Awesome.

On January 7th, I head to MEXICO for TWO WEEKS to hang out with my friend Miss J, whom I haven't seen since I went to Wula back in 2008. I'll be hanging out in Mexico City for much of it, which I think still counts as the largest city in the world. I can go to museums and pyramids and all kinds of fun stuff. Then we'll head out to someplace like Acapulco or other beaches on the weekends. I just bought a swimsuit today, it's retro.

But before then, I have a lot going! I am getting ready for HALLOWEEN! It's my favorite holiday, though this year I'll sadly be stuck working on the actual day. Oh well. I may have to plan some sort of prize to get people up there at some point, otherwise it'll be me dressed as Ebi Nigiri all by myself. I'll probably drown my sorrows in Sake. Or maybe plum wine.

Also making some progress on the Alt Art show. Mr. M came up with some logos and I called about a space. I think I messed up which street it was on a dozen times. It's on Franklin, not Seward. Oh well. With any luck, we'll have it figured out within the next few days. Maybe even tomorrow. Once we have the logo and other stuff, we can send out a call for submissions and start picking through the things we'll want for the show. Yessss.

Oh, and tomorrow is spa day! I'm going to pamper myself so much. It's going to be glorious.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Professional Relationships

I think that it is a sign that a professional relationship is not all that professional when you look at your phone and realize that you've texted your boss at a half hour to bar close with the following:

"What up, slut. I'm at the Bergmann with [Miss A]. Where the fuck are you?"

It's especially HILARIOUS if you know that the boss is a 35 year old man.

How does a night deteriorate to this level?

It starts with white wine and a salad for dinner (should have included some carbs), then it includes champagne and lots of vodka.

Other highlights? I told the Mexican guy who works at the hotel that I would pay him to make me tamales. I did the chicken dance. I bet there are more. I just don't remember them.

Friday, October 23, 2009

Prank Calls

In a fit of ADD, I decided to watch the "Bunny Shorts" and ended up seeing their recap of The Ring. I watched it when I was either a senior in high school or a freshman in college. I was at home in Redmond at my parents' house and had stayed up late with my sister and her best friend. After we had watched the whole movie I thought it would be absolutely hilarious if the phone rang and my sister and Miss K got scared. Luckily, I had a cell phone. I managed to dial the house phone from the couch and I waited for it to ring.



Well, something obviously went wrong.

I ended the call and dialed again.

And waited.

And waited.

I think I must have tried it three times. Finally, I gave up. I don't know what was wrong with the stupid phone, but it wasn't ringing and the time period during which it would be funny had passed.

The next morning my mom complained to my sister that the phone had been in her bedroom all night and that her stupid friends were prank calling the house.

I never corrected her.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Cozy Little Life

My BFF Miss N, who lives in Portland, has a cozy little life. She and her darling husband Mr. A and the adorable kitty Yuki have a nice little place, zero drama, and of course they are head over heels in love, even after the honeymoon phase has undoubtedly ended.

I, on the other hand, just completed a quasi-bender. It doesn't quite count because I was only in true "bender mode" for one night, but I did consume alcohol and I did stay up until obscenely late hours for about five days. This included an extra two hours of weekend thanks to Alaska day, some late night dance parties with Miss A, and plenty of Wii bowling. I know, that sounds totally rock 'n' roll.

Tonight I am refreshed to be curled up on the ghetto couch watching Netflix on demand. As suggested by a friend from high school, I am watching Californication. Part of me doesn't want to admit to it, but I have to say that there is something about the show that I really do like. Maybe it is that the main character is a pretentious douchebag, just as I can be (thank Mr. M for my "snooty bitch" title), that it's sort of raw, or maybe it is that it does a pretty good job of portraying relationships. I know, I know. It's a Showtime Original, not a literary masterpiece. Just gonna say that I nearly teared up when David Duchovny's on-screen daughter gave him the speech about being consistently let down and basically told him to fuck off.

If you have read regularly and long enough, you might know that I spent Christmas of last year with my own biological father, step mother, grandmother, and three half siblings, one of which, a seven year old brother, I had never met. So, when I was 11 or 12 I, without actually saying "fuck off," told my dad the same thing. When I was 13 years old, I was hundreds of miles away in another state and continued to say the same thing, with more fervor. Aside from my high school graduation I didn't see him for approximately ten years. So cute little emo 12 year old reminds me of my side of the story, but I really wanted to shed a tear for David Duchovny because, well, he's pretty fucked up, but he obviously loves his daughter. I wanted to tell the little 12 year old character, "If you turn your back now, you'll never have a real relationship with your dad, it'll never recover!" Is it for the best? Is it for the worst? Is it a wash in the end? Because, let's face it, what real tie is there between a father and child after conception? And a mother and child after birth? It's all relationship. Love isn't in the DNA.

Oh, hey, got a little deep there. Watching Showtime Originals, eating chocolate, getting sappy - this probably means that next week is going to be lame.

To add a little levity to the end of Alaska Day (observed) I leave you with some good news and a little Alaska Day pub crawl anecdote:

I have found a wonderful new roommate, so my money woes mentioned in the last post are somewhat lessened. Hooray, good news!

And after a ridiculously fun weekend playing Apples to Apples with new friends, including a lifetime bartender in her early 50's who could make a sailor blush, I locked the doors and closed up shop. Fellow friend and bartender, who shall remain unnamed and unnicknamed, staggered down the steps and lurched to the bar, I looked to see if there was anything I could do but after touching down for a moment he grabbed his phone and walked to the back. I watched El Drunko stagger back past the entry, back past the bathroom, back into the back room. I mentioned the mysterious destination but didn't think much of it, as the man can generally hold his liquor.

After I finished closing, after we played a late night game of Wii bowling in which I kicked everyone's ass, El Patron went to check on El Drunko, who was not in the bathroom (which, I guess I knew) but, rather, passed out on a table in the very back. He was stirred to wakefulness and guided to El Patron's guest room, where he went to sleep. I did some more cleanup once I had the bar to myself again and then gathered my things. Except my phone. Where was my phone? I searched the bar, the tables, the floors, I emptied my purse and backpack. It was nowhere. Then it hit me. El Drunko grabbed "his" phone from the bar. My phone was on the bar. He must have grabbed my phone. So I went to El Patron's house and asked where El Drunko was. Upstairs, passed out, guest room.

If he reads this, he might feel violated, so let's hope he doesn't. I went upstairs and into the room. He was passed out and snoring. I tried to coax him to a lucid state with words, then gentle prodding, then with louder words and less gentle prodding. Then I sucked it up and decided that I would reach into those pants pockets if I had to, damn it. So I lifted up the covers to discover he had removed his pants, but thank Hanes for underwear, I didn't see a thing. I found the pants on the floor and searched the pockets. Nothing. Well, not my phone at least. There was some cash, but I'm an honest woman, there was still cash when I gave up the search.
In a last ditch effort, I borrowed Miss A's phone and returned to the scene of the crimes, all the crimes, and I called my phone. Once. Twice. Then, another epiphany, I went to the back room and like a fuckin' private eye, I found the phone where El Drunko had apparently passed out. Finally, at almost five in the morning, I could go home and go to sleep. Happy Alaska Day.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Money, Money, Money, Money

I don't have much money. If you want to get technical, I have negative money. I have approximately $28 in my bank account, $18 in my pocket, $8 in quarters for laundry, and about $20k in debt.

I'm one month from having paid off one full credit card, that leaves three more credit cards. Brilliant, I know. Those probably add up to less than $5k in debt though - the real debt is in the student loans. I would ignore them completely if they would just quit calling me.

So, when money is tight, when you've got $50 to your name, when payday is still a week away, creativity is in order.

Let's talk about how I'm frugal. And how I'm not.

I bought a TV. I miss watching movies in a screen that is more than 10.1 in diagonally. This baby is 19 inches diagonally. That 8 inches more is going to make a huge difference. After spending all that money on a TV, I decided I would do the responsible and frugal thing - I posted that I wanted a DVD player on I got one. But I didn't get the cords that connect it to the TV, so I'm still staring at a blank screen.

Today I only bought fresh healthy foods to make a soup for dinner, kind of like I did last time I went to the grocery store. Only last time I was too lazy to make the soup so the mushrooms completely dried out. I thought that I had just dehydrated them and that maybe I could salvage the crimini mushrooms by soaking them in water. But they were sort of funny colored and I was uncertain so they got tossed anyway. I should probably start composting. Another annoying thing at the grocery store - my card didn't work - was my online banking lying about that available $28? I had to put the stupidly expensive razor and a thing of flour back. When the woman took the flour back it broke, I really wanted to ask if I could just have it for free since they probably had to throw it out anyway. But I have too much dignity for my own good.

I bought a dress I don't really need and two pairs of shoes this month. Completely unnecessary. But I haven't gone out drinking nearly as much, which probably makes up for it. I also bought slip covers for my couches, because they are gross looking, which is probably cheaper than buying new shitty couches for my ghetto apartment.

Let's be honest, I'm still incredibly irresponsible and bringing in $2000 a month is rough on a girl who has to pay bills and also have a happy social life.

Anyone out there want to be my sugar daddy?

Monday, October 12, 2009


I'd like to thank the federal government for providing me with a paid holiday, but I am definitely not in the camp that approves of Columbus Day. I live in a community with a fairly large Native Alaskan population, I can see everyday that I started with an advantage from way back at the starting line, hundreds of years ago. I won't get into it, but I hope you take some time to reflect on the history of genocide and marginalization.

In lighter news, I had a fairly wild weekend with some late nights, some drinking, some Scrabble, some Apples to Apples, some Discovery Channel specials, and some Trivia. If it sounds geeky, that's because it was. Some of the time. I'm pretty confident that the new guy at the bar is trained well enough that he can handle the bar on his own - which he's doing as I type this - and I am looking forward to not working until the actual day I am scheduled to work next weekend.

The best news is that I checked on my PFD status and I have been deemed eligible to receive $1305 for allowing oil companies to rape and pillage my adopted home. It'll probably just go toward paying bills and rent.

I've also chosen a Halloween costume and am again excited for my favorite holiday - it's first place because of my love of wearing costumes. Second place is New Year's Eve - based on my love of wearing fancy dresses and drinking champagne and making bad decisions.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Like Watching Paint Dry

Someone's been boring lately and that someone is me.

After the 24 Comics event I slept, and slept, and worked, and slept, and worked, and slept, and worked, and slept, and worked.

Not terribly exciting. I'd like to recommend you find some paint to watch dry.

Only things of interest:

  • I've committed to co-MC a breast cancer fundraiser - I just bought a pink taffeta dress and sparkly shoes for the occasion.
  • I've got another meeting to talk about the alternative art show this evening, not sure what kind of progress to be made, but perhaps we can hand out some assignments - time is limited.
  • My plants are still alive.
  • I ordered slip covers for the couches and a TV for the living room.
  • I watched the entire 5th season of Desperate Housewives.
I really need to get a life.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Sleep Deprivation Fest 2009

The 24 Hour Comics challenge was a success.

Five of us participated. Four of us stayed on to the point of delirium. Three of us finished our comics. One of us reached 24 pages. One of us reached 24 hours.

Curious where I stand? I reached 24 hours but only made it to 12 pages and I am not one of the three who finished.

But, the two of us who didn't finish have started projects we will undoubtedly finish, projects which will look soooooo good.

Here's a basic overview of the night - I updated a bit via Twitter, but tried to stay pretty focused on actually working on the comic.

7:45 pm - Arrive at JACC, attempt entry at wrong door, knock and knock, receive help, note that other entrance is unlocked.
8:00pm - Begin challenge, doodling and brainstorming.
8:15pm - Participate in some warm up exercises with fellow comic-ers Mr. M and Mr. D.
10:00pm - About 2 hours in with one page done, seems less than productive but one of the warm up exercises actually inspired the main character.
12:00am - 4 hours in, starting to contemplate the vastness of completing 24 pages in 24 hours, still hopeful.
2:00am - Boys start getting tired, caffeine consumption within group increases.
5:00am - My body starts reminding me that it likes to sleep sometimes, caffeine consumption increases.
8:00am - Mr. P should be finished with play, should be back for drawing. The lack of sleep is starting to get to me, a small breakfast alleviates some symptoms.
9:30am - So tired, must stay alert, hands shaking for some extra wobbly lines with the ink and brush, doing laps around room.
11:30am - Still exhausted and shaky, doing jumping jacks in ladies' room because it seems like an excellent way to wake up without jiggling in front of other people.
12:00pm - Lunch is served, by this point my body is realizing that the Friday-Saturday sleep cycle has been ignored, is non-existent, growing more alert.
2:00pm - Boys start getting delirious, Mr. P and I somewhat amused. High school boys don't need drugs, just sleep deprivation. At least for our purposes.
3:00pm - Only five hours remaining, boys delirious, competitive, drawing nonsense. Situation dire - I'm not making the progress necessary to complete 24 pages in 24 hours. Mr. P has decided to switch to smaller pages.
4:00pm - Mr. M has fallen asleep at table, Mr. D is pacing nervously, contemplating going home, 24 hour plays practicing at stage - too much muppet sound.
5:00pm - Boys have decided to finish, bound and determined. Working on ending in less than 24 pages.
6:00pm - Boys finished with comics, Mr. P starts worrying he might not finish, realizes there are 2 hours left, not just one, breathes sigh of relief. I've decided a rush would only ruin a really good thing. Tortoise-ing along.
7:00pm - Mr. P finishes, boys finished, Mr. OP and I continue working, pens and brushes dancing gracefully across white paper.
8:00pm - Time's up! Plays to start, displaying finished and unfinished comics for viewing.

Here are some photos:

I'll probably post images to Glitter Shrapnel at some point, possibly self publish.

Friday, October 2, 2009

Four and Twenty Hours.

In approximately one hour I will be joining some fellow artists at the Juneau Arts and Culture Center to take part of something glorious(ly geeky): 24 Hour Comics. It'll be coinciding with the 24 Hour Miracle, which is, I suppose gloriously... freaky. It's a play that is written, cast, rehearsed, and performed in the 24 hour window.

I've never taken part in a 24 hour comic event before and I am excited and also a little nervous. For one thing, I haven't even finished the next panel in JSMG which is nearly done - all that's left to do is color, I believe. I just couldn't get into it for the past few weeks. I think I'll have to make myself do it on Sunday so I will only have missed TWO WHOLE WEEKS and not three. Oops. I'm also nervous because I haven't quite come up with an idea yet. And maybe that's the way it's meant to be, maybe thinking about it in advance is cheating. And I am using traditional media, not digital, and the last time I did something like this I spent a whole semester on it.

Whatever. I'm going to do it, guys. I am going to make a 24 page comic in 24 hours. And it's gonna be AWESOME. Wish me luck. I took a nap this afternoon in preparation. I'm ready!

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Growing up is contagious.

For some 24 seems old, for others, for me, 24 seems young, but it also feels a bit like a transitional time between young and old. It's sort of creeping me out.

My younger sister just got married and will be having a baby, her husband is great and they will undoubtedly have an adorable baby, probably a little ginger. I could probably cover an entire wall with save-the-dates and invitations and engagement photos, though. It's not just my sister, it's a lot of my friends, too. Many of them are doing such grown up activities as marrying and birthing babies and buying houses.

My rational side is adamant about 24 being young and avoiding grown up activities, after all, I still drink 'til I puke sometimes (always by accident). But my uterus was aflutter when I felt little baby J kicking from inside my sister's rotund belly. No, I'm not gonna have a baby, the rational side can totally take my uterus in a fight. One of my new sisters-in-law showed off the engagement ring she'd want were some handsome gent to propose to her and in the secret of my own home a week later, I perused the Tiffany's website and ooh-ed and ah-ed over the diamond engagement rings. My rational side can also beat my romantic side in a fight.

There's one thing I might have a hard time fighting and that is making a comfortable home, sure I hate cleaning and I put it off until a haz-mat suit might be necessary, but I can't help but cruise Craigslist for reasonably priced furniture and I am just dreaming of the day when I stumble upon a butcher block floating island for my counter-space-challenged kitchen. Even though there is a part of me aching to get out of this small town, I have certain things keeping me here, including an absolute love of this stupid town, but still, what if I move? What if I do it - go to law school - then I have to deal with getting rid of all this STUFF.

Who should win this battle? The rational minimalist? The cozy-seeking nester? I don't know. Life would be made a lot easier if Mr. CP would move back and UAS would open a law school. Can't everything come to me?

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Juneau should be renamed Flaketown

Remember when I was going nuts because Miss J gave me notice that she was moving out? Then I was relieved when Mr. L said he'd move in. But then Mr. L decided after less than a full month to move in with his girlfriend (who is offering cheaper rent and sex). Then I was again relieved when a friend said she could move in in October.

Just kidding! I just found out today that my future roommate plans have fallen through, so I am again faced with the tough job of finding someone who is looking for a roommate, isn't insane (or anal) and who has no pets. It's all getting to be so frustrating.

I can manage for the next few months if I budget well and I know that Miss D said she'd be interested in moving in during session, so just when I'll probably be out of a job, I'll have someone to help cover the rent. Lucky me.

Getting angry or frustrated doesn't make any of it better, getting upset with friends doesn't help either. I'm going to do what I always do and forgive and forget, just let it all roll off my back - ducky style. You know, how water rolls off a duck's feathers. I am pretty sure that is what that phrase comes from.

In any case, I am not going to stress on finding a roommate right now, I am just going to live frugally and enjoy the freedom of living completely alone until a roommate comes to me.

I don't know what the deal is, even I am becoming flaky. Juneau, what are you putting in the water?

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Da Bears

Bear sightings have been few and far between this summer but perhaps quantity is less important than quality.

If the quality of a bear siting is determined by how close it is and how much it makes you shake, than I've had some quality sightings this summer, having nearly walked right into one, and coming almost as close to another.

After spending the morning in the office I stopped by the hippie grocery store on the way home. I picked out a bunch of things and once I had purchased the items I stuffed them into my purse. Except it got full so I carried another bag. It was a paper bag. And I live in a rain forest.

I was nearly home when I saw a medium sized black bear climb into the dumpster for the building I was passing. It managed to bend the lid up and squeeze in, head first, then it rummaged around, I considered running past while it was inside, but it seemed risky. Instead I waited and watched the bear climb back out with something in its mouth. Then I watched as the bear settled next to someone's car and gnawed on trash for a bit.

I advised a man to the location of the bear and he suggested I go around. I had been contemplating this possibility and eventually gave in, when the bear showed no sign of losing interest in the slice of bread it was devouring.

As I was walking down a windy side street, I suddenly felt the bag tear and oats started spilling out onto the pavement. Precious organic oats. For precious oatmeal cookies. I had to hug the bag the rest of the way home as I contemplated how representative a moment like this is of my life.

Walking. In the rain. Organic groceries. Falling. Traffic detour due to black bear. Home safe. finding humor in it all.

I tried to be the black bear paparazzi while juggling the groceries and my blackberry, then again once I had put the groceries away. It's nearly impossible to take a good photo with full hands and while shaking from nerves.

I'll mention again that bears are deceptively cute. You just want to hug the little bastards. Then they claw your face off.

Monday, September 21, 2009

The Kitten Flu, Love, and Other Diseases

I'm sitting in darling Miss NB's cozy little apartment with the darling kitty, Yuki. Yuki has got a cold. I am hoping that this little virus will not jump from kitten to human, but how cute does the kitten flu sound? So cute. Way better than swine flu. "Oh, you know, I got the kitten flu, 'cause I was just surrounded in cute fuzzy kittens, not it's not deadly, thankfully." Poor little Yuki though, she can't blow her nose into a tissue or something to relieve her congestion.

This weekend has been all about: Love.

My younger sister just got married and as worried as I may have been, I absolutely adore the entire family she has married into. They are the sweetest family ever. Despite a full septic tank that sometimes provided a raw sewage smell, despite the rain falling until 30 minutes after the wedding was meant to start (we started an hour late) the wedding was sunny and beautiful. Sister jumped the gun with her 'I will' but only because she really is excited to spend the rest of her life with her new husband. Lucky the dog, who is 91 years old in dog time, decided to pee during the lighting of the unity candle, but over all the ceremony was perfect.

The reception was lovely too, with plenty of beer and wine to go around, champagne for toasting, a delicious dinner prepared by the families and lots of dancing. Oh, and I gave a toast. My short but sweet toast which probably infringes on some Disney copyrights was a hit and my counterpart, the very handsome best man, had a long winded but very heartfelt speech (about 10 times as long as mine). Aside from some uninvited guests: Sister's former hippie roommate, a guy who went to my college for one year and his friend; and some missing folks: friends from high school who had been threatened with revoked friendship should they not attend, it was a great group.

It was great to see my family, especially my little sisters, I got to feel my little nephew kick, and even though there was never a resolution to the car theft, my parents and I did a great job pretending absolutely nothing was wrong. And you know, I can just put it out of my mind.

So, if you were wondering what fell into the category "other" it might be shopoholism. Or my love for a Michael Kors black mini dress with sequins. Or a freakish curiosity to know what it feels like to have something living inside you (baby envy?) but not any time soon. Or a case of melancholy, missing the person that I still adore.

Or maybe it is straight up alcoholism because I drank quite a bit of white wine and champagne and apparently got tired before the party even ended - finding my way to Bro-in-law's parents' bed and falling asleep. I got kicked out, of course, and was then led to a couch where I slept through a ton of noise, apparently.

Now I have less than 12 hours left in Portland - I suppose I should go enjoy it!

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

It's Like Rai-i-ain...

Personally, I live in a rainforest. The big, wet, wild Tongass National Forest. It is a temperate rainforest so there are no three-toed sloths or giant man-eating plants, no monkeys throwing fruit or feces. It's kind of like a normal forest but extra wet. Portland weather is NOTHING to Juneau weather.

Still, on my sister's big day* there is a 40% chance of rain. You wouldn't think it ominous except that the Thursday and Friday show temperatures in the mid 70's to mid 80's, partly cloudy. Sunday too. Only Saturday calls for showers.

Two reasons why this is significant:

1. The wedding is outdoors. On grass. How fun will it be for us to get stuck in muddy grass on our way to the alter? And hopefully her white dress doesn't have a long train. I just hope they have tents, just in case.

2. Alanis Morisette says rain on your wedding day is: ironic. Proving, of course, that most people misuse the word ironic. In any case, if Alanis Morisette thinks that rain on your wedding day is sucky enough to sing a song about, it must suck.

As the maid of honor, I've prepared a speech. It's, um, probably a copyright issue with Disney and possibly only funny to people with a similar sense of humor to my own - fine for my family, I hope. Unless I've used big words and everyone just calls me pretentious. Of the people I've shared the speech with (two) they have just about 6 or 7 degrees between the two of them. Maybe I chose the wrong test audience. I got decent reviews.

*This is my sister's big day because she has a vagina. The big day for someone with a penis is losing his virginity or something.


It was discussed that a lot of people in this town are kind of flaky, it was suggested that it's because there are so many creative minds and people are constantly developing new and exciting ideas and that these creative types are more likely to let themselves get carried away, leaving plans behind them. It might also be that a lot of people smoke a lot of pot. But since I've been getting kind of flaky sometimes, I think it is more likely that we're all creative types, dreamers.

I'm not generally a flaky person, despite being a dreamer and creative mind - that could actually be a problem. To how many things have I committed myself?

Job #1
Job #2
Comics Connection
Creating a weekly webcomic
Having a life
Keeping in touch with friends and family
Cleaning my kitchen - someday

And now this:

I have a brain child and I am going to bring it to term, give birth to it, and raise it to adulthood. I will not abort this brain child (but I am pro-choice!), nor will I put it up for adoption, neglect it during it's formative stages, or treat it like a red headed stepchild (I am one of those). I'm really excited and am officially the founder of Alt Art Juneau - an alternative art fair that will coincide with the First Friday Gallery Walk.

There is a lot of work to do on this to do it right, that includes fancy things like exploration committees and panels and publicity committees and lions and tigers and bears, oh my.

I'm going to do this, I am going to succeed, and I am determined that this will be an awesome event for artists who creat comics, tattoos, street art, etc.

P.S. I might be a fucking hipster.

Monday, September 14, 2009

A friend of mine from high school and I declared that we would definitely get out of our home town or else we'd end up dead. We had something like 11 classmates die during our years in high school and the year just before or just after. Turns out we probably wouldn't end up dead. We'd end up Republican. Maybe also poor at spelling. And we might also have become the type of white girls to say things like "true dat" with out a speck of irony.

Sunday, September 13, 2009


So, anticipation can be... unpleasant. There is anticipation of good things and then there is anticipation of bad things. This uneasy feeling definitely falls int he latter category.

I just feel myself getting behind and as the to-do-list grows, my time remains finite. It's frustrating. I made a list, hand-written, the other day hoping to lay it out and prioritize, but I don't feel any better yet.

This weekend I did pretty much nothing. I stayed in on Friday night to paint. Then I painted over the entire thing. I need to make a painting for my sister and her fiancee, since I can't give them the car as I had hoped to do. I think that my need for inspiration is making inspiration hide in some inconspicuous corner under a pile of pressing to-do-list items and a desire to sleep and sleep and sleep.

Last night I worked and it was a quiet night, made fun by the few people who did come to the bar. I would say that over half the groups who came in offered to buy or did buy me a drink or more. Maybe I looked like I needed it. It didn't help me to be more productive today, as I had hoped. The most productive thing I did all day is a tie between showering and heating up canned, condensed soup. Wow, hygiene and feeding myself. I'm a winner.

Meanwhile, the to-do-list gathers dust and my fear of being overwhelmed is, well, overwhelming. I think that might be counter-productive.

Luckily, little things here and there make bright patches in my days.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

What a waste!

Today I:

Showered, straightened my hair, did my makeup, picked out a cute outfit fit for going out and being seen.

I went to the bank.

I went to the senate office.

Then I went home.

I'm still at home.

What a waste.

In good news, I have found a new future roommate to replace Mr. L. He's moving in with his girlfriend where the rent is cheaper and he'll be getting sex. My friend Miss N announced on facebook that she needed a place to live within 24 hours of me announcing I needed a new roommate.

I think it's going to work out well. We're both laidback, fun twenty-somethings with a hipster vibe and a lot of creativity. I foresee art projects and music and gatherings of friends.

Right now I'm going to work on my comic, though I think I might change the day that I update. Maybe to Mondays, like all the other one day a week comics. Sure, I might get lost in the shuffle, but maybe I won't.

Ten Reasons I Won't Get Married

10. I just don't look that good in white. Or even cream. 'Cause let's face it, I won't be wearing white.

9. What if I'm wrong? Marriage is the first step to divorce, after all. And divorce, that's a spendy affair.

8. Of a biological father and a stepdad, with neither of whom I have a close relationship, who would I choose to walk me down the aisle?

7. I've had to wear bridesmaid's dresses - I don't want to do that to my friends.

6. I don't believe in God anyway, why do I need to have some religious leader marry me and the person I love?

5. Nobody wants to sit through the ceremony anyway, even if I had the most clever vows, people would still be fidgeting and waiting for the open bar.

4. My mom and dad got divorced, my grandparents got divorced, and not everyone is even all that happy in their new situation - it might be hereditary.

3. Weddings are expensive, I am pretty sure it isn't necessary to spend thousands of dollars to declare one's love. I can think of three little words that do it quite efficiently.

2. And do I really want to support the diamond industry? What a scam!

1. Marriage is a stupid institution which discriminates not based on love, but on matters like WHO someone loves. Why should I support that?

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

In My Bestselling Tell All Novel

Someday I'm going to write stupid pop lit novels like Chelsea Handler. I think I'm slightly less drunk and slightly less promiscuous, but what I lack in those areas my family makes up for.

Oh yes, the saga continues. Via e-mail.

My mom told me that my sister is trying to work things out with HER car, but that's going to prove to be bad news. My sister is having a baby and her current job is as a barista. Having that car would include continuing to pay if off - my parents are making her refinance in her name - and since my sister is (a) poor, (b) going to be poorer and (c) has terrible credit this is going to be costly. And/or they are requiring that she insure the car in her name under her own plan which will apparently cost $250 a month since my sister is (a) under the age of 25, (b) a driver with at least two accidents on her record, and (c) a driver with a DUII on her record.

My parents are helping to pay for the wedding, but then saying "FUCK YOU" to their second oldest daughter and almost ensuring that my sister will end up getting behind sooner or later. At no loss of money to them and at a complete gain in security for my sister, this car could be hers. But my mom, who called me petty for bringing up the issue of MY liability should my younger sister get in a wreck driving a car under my name, then preceded to list all of the things she should have charged me for.

Thanks, mom, I hope the value of the car was enough to make up for you having to raise me.

But, you know, it's ok. I have wonderful friends.

Last night there was a good show of good friends who made sure that I always had a drink in my hand and made sure the night was lively. We had drinks and appetizers at the Hangar and later Miss A, Mr. C and I went to Troxel's for some late night grub and then they dropped me back at the Alaskan where I had another drink. And then Miss K and I hit up the Rendezvous for one last shot before I headed back up the hill to sleep it all off.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

The Burden of Being Born

Happy motha' effin' birthday to me.

Today is my actual birthday, in which I turn 24 years old.

I have had the pleasure of receiving a billion facebook messages, countless text messages, and some friendly phone calls.

I received a print from Mr. CP and a book - received in the mail a few days early. And the owners of Choco's gave me a cocktail ring I had been admiring.

This evening I'll be with friends having drinks and appetizers.

But just now I had a conversation with my mom which turned ugly. I told my mom that I was giving my car to my sister for her wedding present and I mentioned that my other sister who just turned 16 had said she was driving it, so I was questioning that since I already promised it to my other sister... Logical stuff, you know. Then I told my mom it would be kind of a problem if they gave away a car I had already given away and my mom said, "Well, we already did."

My parents gave away MY FUCKING CAR.

Without my permission. Without even mentioning it to me. So now the one thing I could do for my sister's wedding, for my sister who is having a baby, they've taken it away. And my mom didn't want to have the discussion with me, but I forced it, and she basically started talking about how she had helped me pay my bills when I was in college.

Great. So it turns out that the basic duties of being a supportive parent of a kid in college don't come for free. Or cheap. I've been such a burden that it warrants taking my car and giving it away to my younger sister.

I'm pretty possed right now. I wish I hadn't even talked to my mom at all today. I wish I didn't have to see my parents at all at my sister's wedding.

I wish none of this were happening and I wish my family weren't so fucked up.

Hopefully drinks and cake will make this all better.

Sunday, September 6, 2009


Saturday night included yet another excuse to dress up. General Juneau attire includes the ugly brown neoprene boots with jeans and, most likely, an Alaskan Brewing sweatshirt or some sort of performance fleece. Or a rain jacket. But Saturday night Mrs. D & Mr. M had their 4th anniversary party and as classy people, they requested that everyone dress to the nines.

First I went to dinner with Miss M and Miss C at the Hangar where we were lucky enough to be given a free appetizer from some of the staff - thanks, Ladies! We had some drinks and shared appetizers and had a generally lovely (and filling) evening. We then went to the super secret location for the invite only Anniversary party and drank cocktails with people dressed in cocktail dresses, suits, evening gowns, etc.

Then we went to the Viking. Miss M had said she thought this was the last weekend Deering and Down would be playing and I do love to support those two. Usually the Viking is the last place I would ever head (though somehow it had ranked above the Lucky Lady before) but for the sake of the music, I went. Now, the problem I have with the viking, mainly, is that I can't recall a time I've been that I haven't been hit on and even groped. This night was no different, including a thoroughly uncalled for ass slap, another grope in passing, and one old sketchy guy who had been watching us dance did the "accidental" ass graze. He also tried to tell me later that he liked my dancing. Or something. Gross. Around 2, after maybe an hour and a half there, total, we went to find Miss C, who was not where I had anticipated. We ended up at the Alaskan, which is where I figured out that gin makes me sassy.

First thing, former flame was accusing me of something in a rather belligerent manner (this isn't a first) and I stood up for myself and told him that I didn't want to argue with him and then went back to spend time with my girlfriends. I also pointed out at one point in the night that I didn't like his "tone" just like my mom used to say. But the real sassiness came out when some dumb hick bummed a cigarette from Mr. P and then proceeded to make fun of his hair. I don't know about you, but I am pretty sure that you don't disrespect someone who has just done you a favor. I called it, though. He was a dumb hick and even a little tipsy I have enough wit to run circles around guys like this. I managed to make mad fun of him right there until he stumbled off the curb to go to (most likely) the Viking or the Imperial, or to go shoot something.

Then Miss N and I headed to an after party, where we stayed only briefly because we (a) weren't drunk enough and (b) weren't any good at speaking Spanish.

Overall it was an interesting night and I, admittedly, looked damn good. I guess I can't blame the grabby guys. Wait. Yes I can. Pervs.

And today was craft brunch! I made some savory scone egg sandwiches, which were delish. I think the best recipe I discovered was one that was a basic scone recipe with pointers on changes to make when adding additional ingredients. I like the versatility of it and, when I added garlic and herbs de provence, the scones turned out great. I think it might be best for someone with a sense of what they are doing, since it is a little more open ended than many baking recipes, but I am happy with it. Here it is.

Now I am working at the bar and I've just been informed by one of the owners of the Rendezvous that the male strippers are staying upstairs in the hotel and that, well, I may have strippers in the bar again. Hopefully this time all the clothing will stay on.

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Diving Lessons

I remember when I was younger I heard talk of "dives" or "dive bars" and I was confused and curious. What is a "dive?"

Since turning 21, or even during the month before the birthday when friends and I managed to crash a truck stop bar on I-5 outside of Eugene, Oregon, I have gained vast amounts of experience with so called dives, even tending bar at a dive or two.

Still, even in terms of dives, I had my standards, damn it. Until yesterday.

Girls' night started out as classy as can be. We all primped and had dinner at the Gold Room at the Baranof where we were certainly a bit uncouth, but our server was happy to tolerate our antics, especially when those antics included trying to touch our elbows together behind our backs. It's along the same lines as that creepy kid in middle and high school who used to run his finger up unsuspecting girls' spines to get that chest out reaction. In any case, after a delightful dinner we went to the Breakwater which is now Troxel's. The Breakwater was known for being a dive. I had never been. Not only is it all they way over by the high school, it just had that reputation of being sort of sketchy. But with the new ownership, the place has risen above. It's got all the nautical kitsch you could ever want, with a raised platform gated off with thick rope, but without the sketchiness. Deering and Down played and I don't think the poor bartenders were prepared for the onslaught. The place was packed with people who usually inhabit the Alaskan or the Rendezvous. But before the band even stopped playing, an exodus occurred - where did the people go? We never found out.

But it wasn't the Alaskan. Around 12:30 or 1am we went downtown and discovered that the Rendezvous had Karaoke and a scary crowd (scary-oke) and the Alaskan had some familiar faces but we didn't leave the Breakwater to listen to the Killers' first album playing from someone's iPod. We were feeling adventurous and decided to head to the Imperial, only to stumble upon some friends at the Triangle. We, a then ragtag group, turned around and headed past the Rendezvous and straight to The Lucky Lady.

I had never once set foot in the Lucky Lady. I even had a free drink token once and I gave it away because I was CERTAIN that I'd never go. But go, I did, and I don't regret it. We all drank cheap beer out of small pitchers ($5.50 a piece) and Mr. S and Miss BR took over the jukebox (yes, there was a jukebox) so we got an ear full of Flaming Lips (Mr. S had seen them in concert recently) and some sing-along worthy 80's hits thanks, probably, to Mr. MW. After a point that blueberry mocha martini, 5 shots worth of vodka, and the glasses of cheap beer kicked in full force and I experienced "time travel" as some like to call it. I blacked out and was lucky enough to find myself on my couch wrapped up in a blanket this morning. A few key things that make the night, overall, a success: Waking up without a stranger, with my glasses near me and un-broken, and with a blanket to keep me warm. Score 1 for Melissa, 1 for alcohol, 0 for, um, sobriety. Let's face it, booze and me are on the same team.

Friday, September 4, 2009


I need a sign, maybe a big blingy necklace, that reads "OCUPADO" or "DO NOT DISTURB" or something.

I was mentioning being a homebody lately, so last night I determined that I would not be a homebody. Mr. T invited me to play some pool at the Berg and I accepted the invitation, meeting him there and having a beer while playing a couple games of pool and talking about life and growing up. We got a little philosophical.

I then went to the Alaskan where I saw Miss H and sat with Miss MO and another Miss H (too many, suddenly) until they left. At which point I headed back to hang out with Mr. TB, who had been reading. I was hanging out, enjoying the music, drinking some beers, and life was good. Mr. TB is fantastic and I really like hanging out with him when he is being social. Then the magic hour was upon us. We had to finish our beers and be ushered out the door. At this point I had had a beer more than intended, something like 4 or 5 through out the night, and so had some other people, apparently.

Right at bar close, there is always a big crowd of people directly outside the bar, last night was no exception. I learned that there are consequences to saying "maybe" instead of "no" and I learned the hard way. "Maybe" gives a person the idea that confessing undying love or trying to romance you might be a good idea. "Maybe" puts you in the awkward position to drunkenly try to explain that you can't be what the romancer wants you to be. "No" would have been the better route. So after failing to make things turn out well, I decided that going home ALONE would be the best option, but then a mutual friend of the romancer and me was walking with me, not trying to push the romancer on me, as one might think, but hitting on me, I'm pretty sure. I managed to shake him and make my way home.

Then I tried to post my comic but my darling tablet PC has some virus, perhaps the swine flu, and I fell asleep before I managed to post it. But it's up now! So you should read it.