Gentlemen don't get caught.

Nabbalicious did this letter meme and I wanted to play too, plus I figure it's good to break up the xboy meanness with frippery, so she gave me B.

1. Books. Yeah, obviously, right? But it's not just the reading. I love the physicality of books, the way old ones smell, the way paperbacks get brittle at a certain point in their lives, the way new ones or ones that weren't chosen well for a specific library crack a bit the first time they're opened, when you can tell that a previous owner had loved this copy. One of my favorite comics is Andi Watson's Dumped, and one of the things I really love about it is Binny's library of used books and his interest in the notes and things in them. There's a word for that, isn't there? (Marginalia—thanks Wikipedia.)
2. Butter. Damn, butter's tasty. Buttery toast is a favorite snack of mine. Butter cookies (and their hardcore cousin, shortbread) are awesomely good and fun to make. I loved every buttery mention in Julie and Julia, and believe me, there are a hell of a lot.
3. Black tights. Making appropriate dresses inappropriate and vaguely punkish for more years than you can shake a stick at! Screw that leggings noise, black tights are where it's at. Now, lately I've been seeing a lot of hipsterish catalog girls in white tights, and I'll try that, but nothing beats owning 5+ pairs of black tights. Or those mornings when I think, which would look better with this skirt and at least 2 layers of shirts: colored fishnets, or black tights? Lately, I've been thinking more and more about pairing some black tights with a short, slightly ratty denim skirt, so I think I'm going to need to rock that soon. (Really, black tights are also the only wardrobe staple of mine that starts with a B, so I figure they can stand in for my whole obsession with clothes, right?)
4. Bring It On, Baseketball, etc. I heart dumb comedies. “Steve Perry…Steve Perry!” “These are jazz hands; these are spirit fingers.” I could go on and on.
5. Bravado. Deep down, I'm kind of a pansy and a wuss. I'm also really shy. Thanks to bravado, though, I can totally play it off like I'm the ballsiest girl in the room. Or 3rd largest city in the state, as the case may be.
6. Belle and Sebastian. Definitely in my top 3 bands, if not the top. And a great show. But really, don't I go on and on about them enough here? Was the link to Stuart's Diary listed under “My Soul Mate” not enough? What about the period where I kept posting giant pictures of Stuart in various hats? My love of Belle and Sebastian, and my interest in not only being a B&S completist, but a vinyl B&S completist, keeps my indie stereotype cred nice and shiny, no matter how much I heart the new Killers single or pretend my favorite song is “Summer of 69”. When I was in the Austin airport, waiting for my plane back to Pittsburgh and admiring the 12” of “This is Just a Modern Rock Song” I had just bought, a boy sauntered past, Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like a Peasant under his arm.
7. Being in a city again. Damn, it feels good. People keep talking shit on this city, but trust me, they don't know how good they have it. I've been to shows and record stores and people are friendly and not all the same. And there's 2 free weeklies: a real one, and one of the fake kind real newspapers came out with when they realized that 20somethings weren't buying their classified ads--uh, I mean newspapers.
8. buffet, Indian. Yum. After the holidays, it's time to start figuring out the best in my vicinity. Or go to Louisville and rock some Indian buffet with Stacey and the World's Faggiest Boy Scout Troop.
9. Banal things as art. Like this. Or Warhol. Or that installation from 2 Carnegie International's ago where the artist built these intricate, site-specific installations using styrofoam, matchbooks, floss, and the like. And incidentally, how's that for showing off my pretentious vocabulary and ridiculous taste in art all in one section?
10. Big thrift stores. Seems like most thrift fans either like the tiny, all piled up willy-nilly neighborhood thrifts or the giant strip mall variety. I'm a giant strip mall, myself. You get a shopping cart and fill it with shoes and lamps and sweaters and coffee mugs and prom glasses and plush things that shouldn't be plush and you can spend all day there. Good times.

(I've got the REM song “Carnival of Sorts (Box cars)” running through my head now. Stupid B.)
Now I'm guessing I can assign letters to other interested parties as well. Leave a comment if you want one. Especially you, Kim. It can be the first post in the blog you're going to start.

Fits and starts.

The PW review of Modest Mouse: a Pretty Good Read calls Isaac Brock a "sailor-mouthed, media-loathing front man...whose songwriting knew much darker beginnings."
Last month, I found a copy of Fight Club mis-shelved in juvenile fiction.
Trying to explain who Tim Gunn is and why it's so exciting that he's on Megan Mulally's talk show to someone who's never seen Project Runway is a bit difficult. Especially when you interrupt your explanation with, "Eee! I bet he's giving her a bobblehead! I totally want a Tim Gunn bobblehead!" And it's before 9 AM.

We got spaghetti. And blankets.

Pipe down, Internet, your Auntie Jessy's hung.

Little girls on a sunny Easter Sunday in their big poofy spring dresses, spinning across a grassy lawn.
Girls in their mid20s with professional jobs, twirling around a dance floor.
Same thing, really. At least when it comes to me 'n' Melissa.

Oh, and Local Library I Don't Work At? Please refrain from packaging comedy CD/DVD dealies like 2 CD audiobooks. It confused me as I was driving into work.
This would be after I yelled, "I JUST DON'T CARE ANYMORE!" to Scott Simon when he started in on Opal Mehta. In the car. With the windows down.
And, yes, I know that the author's name is not Opal Mehta. I don't care. I can call her that, or I can call her Stupid Plagiarizy Harvard Girl I Don't Care About Anymore. You make the call.

I bought the Summer 06 Knit1 yesterday. I'd do a review-type-thing, but

1. I forgot it;
   
2. isn't that what we pay the lovelies at You Knit What?? for?
   
3. Plus, my upcoming Craftster swap is like a secret santa type deal, and I don't want to run the risk of spoiling the surprise.

I also went to the comic store.
Now, Free Comic Book Day comes every year. This is my second year getting comics from this particular shop for it, and I know that they were our supplier before I came on the scene. I gave them a month's notice. I discussed it with comicstore employees in person and sent an email.
So why, when I stop by the store yesterday, was there not a box of free comic goodness ready for the library?
To complicate matters further, I had personal stuff to pick up, too.
(flashback)
Because I'm an exceptionally nice person, when Tiff came to visit the last time and we went to the comicstore (actually, when I spoke to the people about free comic goodness), I let her buy the only copy of Strangetown #1. Of course, I read it before she did, but that's not the point.
So I arrange to have a copy ordered for me, and a copy of each subsequent Strangetown held. I discussed this with the employee, and mentioned it in the email.
Then, when I sent the email, I remembered the Belle and Sebastian anthology and asked for that, too.
So, theoretically, I run into the comic store. I look around real quick, I pick up my stuff, I head to Panera for a tasty snack*.
NO. I've mentioned the putting freecomicgoodness box together already. Strangetown #1 is under my last name. Belle and Sebastian, after an "I need this book; it's blue"-esque conversation, turns up in the hold drawer, not under my name. With no name actually on it.
Apparently, the owner is the only person who deals with emails. And he wasn't there.
I miss you, Phantom of the Attic. You too, Atomic City Comics. But I suspect I miss your proximity to pizza more than you yourself.
And now everyone knows why the comics I bought 2002-03 have greasy marks on them.
And I still don't see what's so great about She-Hulk, despite what Wacky Neighbor Billy might say.

Man, I hate when hungover-icky merges with period-icky, on a work weekend.

*iced chai latte and an everything bagel with veggie cream cheese--YUM. And even better combined with free Scott Pilgrim goodness.

punk ass snow gnomes

Saturday afternoon work boredom = cleaning my email outbox.
I don't remember the context of the titular phrase at all, so don't bother asking. It was an email to Tiff, so it probably didn't make that much sense at the time, either.
***
Okay, so I read "The Gospel According to Larry", which is basically Adbusters in novel form, so I'm reading the sequel, where he runs for president in a not-un-Nader-like move. Mostly somewhat irritating, esp how Larry's still in love with his unrequited HS best friend (who's basically a normal girl with radical views) while he's got this rockin' new gf (who's basically us, but also doesn't speak on Mondays, for some kind of protest--see why this book is annoying?). So anyway, there's this one thing that I don't think is supposed to be funny so much as point out how different Beth and Janine (new girl, of course, has the better name as well) are, but I was cracking up. Like, Sars cracking up. Janine puts on her fake fur coat to leave, and in a footnote we're told that she's thrown red paint on her fake fur coat, in a jokey reference to PETA. Now, why didn't I ever think of that!?!?
***
"Julio, excited yet relaxed, grinned back and played like he was Kenny G."
Couch is in 5 piece, not 500. Progress!
***
So are you my neighbor now, or what?
If you can fake a British accent, you can be my neighbour.
If you're Natalie Imbrulia, you can be on Neighbours.
***
Also, Puff is super-fucking-awesome. Did I mention that it takes place around Boston in the 70s? During a snow storm? And it's about 2 stoner brothers who masquerade as Red Cross dealies to get to the last available bag of pot in town? I highly recommend!
***
OK, so I was totally internally mocking your whole shorts thing (sorry, sweetie), but then I found myself thinking about a picnic this morning, and, in my picnic fantasy, I was wearing chucks and shorts of that very-now length. And possibly my tube top, but that's a whole other kettle of fish.
***
I had the best spring weekend. Most of it involved sitting on my balcony and popsicles (the red white and blue kind), but also a library book sale ($2 for a grocery bag o' books, including classics such as A Day at LBJ Ranch and a book on mind-altering drugs from 1968 with an amazing cover) and Sin City.
***
step 1: ask to be their friendster
step 2: once you've amassed several possible boys, send out a bulletin on one of the following subjects: beer, comic books, or whether or not boys actually find Paris Hilton attractive. Conversation ensues, force a meeting, and Bob's your uncle: makin' out.
***
My favorite thing about Barely Legal (the print version, at least) is the text: so clearly designed for shifty, barely employed 40 year olds who live next door to 9th graders. My absolute favorite ridiculous porn photo (have I told you this story yet?) comes from my good ol' assfaced gay xroomie Ken, who used to read Barely Legal style magazines despite being barely legal himself. There was a picture of a young man in pj pants, standing next to a breakfast table, all laid out with a bowl of brightly colored cereal. Normal, right? Yeah, but how many guys do you know who stand next to their cereal with their dick hanging out?
***
Oh! I was driving to Target the other day and I heard, I think, Spacehog on the radio. They did that "In the Meantime" song, or whatever it was called, no? I couldn't believe it. I laughed and laughed.
***
Didja notice my MySpace Galaxie 500-related name change? You know it's summer when I'm lieing (I fucking hate trying to spell that word) around listening to Dean sing about breaking shit, being fired, and/or his crotch.
***
So, is it so wrong that I'm still attracted to Ben McKenzie, mustache and all?
***
"Do you have, uh, one a them sheets, um, where like the dates of the clubs are?"
"You mean a calendar? They're over there."
***
That's good. I'm glad you got your money, and didn't have to resort to singing ODB at your boss.
***
Jeff Buckley's cover of "Hallelujah" is playing on my internet radio thing right now. I do so love that song, but I was a bit confused, b/c I thought I had hit play on the Motown station.
***
He looks so much older...and kinda scary. Like the professor whose classes you skipped, and then you ran into at the liquor store and he yelled at you in front of the cheap whiskey. Or you hid behind the wine display to avoid him.
Also kind of like the poet guy in Auntie Mame. I was trying to find a picture online, but couldn't.
***
He looks like the bad guy in an MST3K movie with that beard. Like he should have some half-assed "British" accent.
Ello, ow are ooo?
***

what I want my poetry to mean

Freakishly warm days in the middle of January always make me think of this song. Makes me miss Pittsburgh in May, once everyone has left town and you don't have to wait as long for Dave & Andy's.
I think I want ice cream tonight.
I'm reading Better than Running at Night by Hilary Frank. Ira Glass gave it a back-cover blurb.
Some other teen library program got on This American Life before me, so there's another plan down the drain.
Recent events have led me to wonder if the universe is finally getting back at me for that summer I spent sending people letters saying they weren't crazy enough for the people I was temping for to pay for their care.
I can't keep a red pen in my office TO SAVE MY LIFE. They always migrate to the reference desk.
Pop Rocks are really fucking expensive. I thought they'd make a great summer reading program sign-up prize, but it's like $15 for 36 packets, and I had 200 kids sign up last year.
My deer/unicorn thing arrived in the mail the other day. I had it sent to me at work, and it was fun seeing my officemates' reactions. Then I took her home to meet Tree and figure out a name.
Has anyone read Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell? I tried, in only the most cursory way, and I think I might need to pick it up again. Oh, and I still haven't read the non-Thursday Next Jasper Fforde book.
Booklist is one of the worst things to read for YA book selection. They always try to help out in their adult review section with pointers like this: "For teens contemplating a zoo career." Yeah, I've got ever so many of them.
4 days 'til they announce the Printz, and I'm starting to (maybe) second guess my Ball Don't Lie prediction. Maybe Elsewhere? Would kinda fit with the (in my opinion) total RANdomness of Kira Kira getting the Newbery last year. I also just read part of Claiming Georgia Tate, and that kinda seems like award-bait, too. Like, what's up with that book taking place in the 1970s? Now, that's a setting that has nothing to do with and brings nothing to the story. It actually took me out of it. Everytime Georgia talked about the bicentennial or Jimmy Carter or whatever, I got really jarred. But that's the book all those stupid journalists were mentioning as trash alongside Gossip Girls and Rainbow Party this summer, and that might push it ahead a bit.
I need better speakers for this computer.

and I left a bunch of fencing stuff on the subway.

It's only January 3 and I already kinda hate 2006. Although I suspect at least some of that might be girl-parts-related.

First of all: boyness. There's a hell of a lot I could say, but won't because, deep down, I know how ridiculous it all is. Suffice to say, everytime I have a crush, I start assuming it's going to go this way: thinking things are fine, nothing more-than-friends happening, falling off the face of the earth. Running into him several weeks later with an ugly coat and/or a normal girl. Or rumors that he's gay. Or both.
Why do I think this? How many past examples are you looking for?
And then there's the other one. Who randomly showed up at my house last Thursday after no contact for about a month and a half. Who called last night while I was on the phone with my mom and didn't leave a message.
Leading to this sentence, "Well, that's really all I wanted from him, too, back when there was less random contact. I was just trying to put it more delicately."
Why I had chosen that moment to be delicate (not one of my strong points) to my mom (normally not necessary), I'm not exactly sure.
There's more I could say about that mess, too, but I'm feeling less mean right now, so I'll avoid the overtly bitchy for once.

Bitch the Second: I fucking hate the work-side catalog here. Search results are displayed IN THE ORDER WE BOUGHT THE ITEM. Not alphabetically; not in the order they were published; not in the order we originally got the item in cases of replacement copies. So a series, in our catalog, could potentially show up like this:
6, 5, 1, 2, 3, 1pbk, 26, 6replacement, 25, 24...
This is also assuming that all of the items in a series are in fact linked under that series title.
I also hate copy cataloging, or at least a ridiculous amount of reliance on it. Half of our Spiderwick Chronicles are shelved under Black. The rest are under DiTerlizzi.
We also still have an Alternative section of cds. Some REM is there and some is in Rock. Rock is the only large section of cds without any kind of alphabetizing, even the most basic.
And don't even get me started on 741.5, which is, as we all know, the devil.
--aw, reader's advisory always makes me feel better. And over IM, so all cutting edge and shit, too.--

Bitch the third: I fucking hate the Olympics. I hate the winter Olympics more than the summer Olympics, and this is one of those years. I'm sure I will bitch in a more timely manner about this when they actually start.

Look, even the internet thinks I need to shut the fuck up:

You woke up this morning with the Monday morning blues -- and it's not even Monday. Doesn't matter, either; it definitely won't last. In fact, if you can get yourself up and around, you'll be surprised to find that you'll actually enjoy your day -- a whole lot. Remember, you're in charge of your day -- and, more importantly your evening. And don't you have some plans to look forward to? Now pick up your bottom lip before you trip over it.

met him in a bar/said I know who you are

I have a few executive items to clear up.
***
Somehow, my car payment never made it to the bank this month. I had to put a stop payment on a check, which I'm PRAYING is the right one, since there's a bit of confusion in my register. Otherwise, Sprint and the car people are going to be mad at me. I hate it when I'm responsible and things fuck up anyway. I also hate it when the bank charges me $10 for shit that isn't my fault (for once). So, if you are reading this and I owe you a present, it may be a bit late. But you were expecting that, anyway, weren't you?
(That's for Tiff. As far as I know--and believe me, I would know--Lara is not a Perks reader. She's also more demanding about gifts.)
Speaking of presents, I'm going to be attempting to make things this year. If you're the sort of person I give things to, and have something that I might be able to make in mind, let me know and I'll see what I can do.
Some of you it may be too late for, and you'll just have to like what you get, you ungrateful jerks.
***
Tree is too big for international travel, it was decided. Instead, my small plush triceratops (I named him Fisher the other day) is making the journey. I realized what a good thing this was last night, when I decided to read under the covers. What would I have done without Tree's neck-pillowy goodness?
***
There's been talk floating around the internet lately about my craptacular Friday night. (I love how I can take MySpace, a few Philadelphia-directed emails, some New England IMing, and Melissa's blog and turn them into "The Internet".) I had this whole thing set up, we came up with a fitting insult (Log Cabin Republican, if you're interested), but I just can't carry a grudge all like that.
Unless you're this girl Meisha I went to elementary and high school with. I still hate that bitch. And you really, really don't want to know what set it off. I have few enough friends as is.
Suffice to say, should have been hanging out with one boy. Didn't. Met an asshole.

Cara sez: "I hate when guys who are stupider/less attractive think I should still talk to them as if I were some sort of polite human being. If you aren't good to look at OR good to talk to, please stand somewhere far away and don't bother me."

I say, your problem with my intelligence, appearance, or attitude is not my problem.
The thing that really kills me about this guy, so much so that I'm still going on about it almost a week later when I could be composing my literary crush list or thinking about my actual crush or something, is that, before he turned into Asshole (TM), I was making a concerted effort to not be JessyJudgemental (as he was wearing a sweater and shorts and exhibiting a Mustang logo lookin tattoo, this was HARD) and to be JessyCharming ("Look, they have little stars on the corners!").
Just one quote, then I'll go onto the next item: "Why would anyone go to the library on the weekend?" followed by surprise and disbelief at the idea of people who don't have home computers or internet access.
Ass. Hole.
Who then (sorry, I'm on a roll now and there's still about half an hour til the RunescapeRush), at a different bar, after I was all snug in my bed, visions of kids without internet access dancing in my head, proceeds to bitch about me. To Melissa. And ask for my number.
***
Saturday was a good day, despite working, overanalyzing and jumping to (incorrect) boy conclusions, and falling into bed before 11:30. 18 kids at the anime program! And I learned how to knit in the dark.
Well, reasonably well.
Now I can't decide: do I buy more of the blue cotton yarn to finish the scarf I was working on in the dark, which I think I would wear quite a bit, or do I get completely new stuff, to expand my skill set a bit? And start on seasonably to-be-given-away stuff?
***
I've got 3 days off this weekend, and if I'm not done with that purse at the end of it, someone's gonna pay.
***
I've got these anecdotes that I forget who I've told, so I'm just going to put them on the internet and be done with it. For example, expect to see the Story of the Movie I Helped Twin Peaks Adam Make at some point.
But this is a different tale. And a shorter one.
Last year, when I was looking for library jobs, I used to check out the Special Library Assocation's job listings. (In MLS-land, we call any libraries that aren't academic, public, or school "special". They're not retarded; they're just weird.) This includes jobs like Lexmark's corporate librarian or you know how at the end of Weekend Edition they thank the librarians? Stuff like that.
Fox News listed jobs there, too. There was one that was quite tempting.
For a "Fact Writer".
When I read that listing, I got the greatest envisioning, of a bleak, former supply room somewhere, with all these posters of, like Clinton's face with a slash through it or lists of what constituted Facts.
Actually, in my head, Fox News HQ looked a lot like the workplace in Brazil. The movie, not the country.

boys who smoke and go start fires

Some stuff I've been real into lately, in numbered but no particular order:

1. Cape Cod veggie tortilla chips. They're pretty colors, and have sesame seeds in them.
2. Target brand cola--cheap and, I swear, tastier than regular Coke. But maybe that's more about how I don't have to leave my house to get some.
3. Dr Mario
4. Chris Crutcher
5. fanboyish obsession and speculation about Harry Potter
6. Artemis Fowl: the Opal Deception. Oh my god, I want to live in my car and just finish this.
7. The box fan I just remembered this morning I have.
8. renewed love for Tim Burton and Roald Dahl (as a side note, I think I'm probably the only person in the world nerdy enough to notice this, but the scene where li'l Wonka is making candy notes? When Roald Dahl was at school, Cadbury sent prospective bars to the boys for testing and what Willy wrote on his pad was some of the things Dahl mentions sending off to Cadbury in his memoir, Boy. He also said that's where he got the idea for the book in first place.)
9. linoleum block printing
10. This salsa-esque salad I invented, with tomatoes, cucumber, red onion, and super ripe avacado and a dressing with rice vinegar, chipotle chili powder, and a hell of a lot of lime juice.
11. lime
12. I just got an advance reader's copy of the new Jacky Faber book in the mail. Imagine if a little Dickensian street urchin girl got herself a job as shipsboy by being able to read, had crazy adventures and fell in love with another shipsboy, got put off at a fancy girls school in Boston when everyone else found out she's a girl, and then went back to London on a whaler to find lover boy. These are great books.
13. Philadelphia Veggie Cream Cheese
14. iced coffee
15. ice cream for dinner, especially chocolate almond ice cream
16. The Rogue Wave
17. pen pals
18. www.craftster.org (sorry!)
19. my new gay boyfriend
20. new dorky dance steps
21. Cubis Gold, on Yahoo games
22. unicorns

My album's coming out on HugTown Records.

I'm terrifically bored right now, sitting at work on a Church Night here in my tiny library town. My brain is all fuzzy, from sitting outside in the sun and listening to the Runescape junkies next to me. I'm hoping that, as I type, I'll come up with something interesting to say, or at least my usual level of uninteresting. Maybe another story, like the blind date one?
No, I can feel it...here it comes...A Bunch of Things About Me, In No Particular Order (b/c I just want to be like Melissa, but several months ago):

1. I like bulleted lists. With or without numbers.
2. I actually LOVE all kinds of lists. I was reading my "free" issue of Real Simple the other night, and the only thing that saves this magazine from being utterly brittle and shrill, like a combination of Martha Stewart and Melissa Rivers, is their readers' tips section. This month, it was about saving time. My favorite 2 tips were the woman who keeps a card with useful random information like vacuum bag size, printer cartridge type, etc., in her purse (this is so fucking brilliant I can't stand it) and the woman who has made up a master sheet of common errands she has to run and grocery items she often needs. When she runs errands, she simply circles what she needs to do on a copy of the sheet.
3. Lists make me feel organized. I'm so utterly unorganized, that I need to force myself to make endless lists, systematically file things at work, and keep a day planner.
4. This doesn't make me any more organized than you; I'm just a fuck-up that tries not to be.
5. I'm also not really an extrovert. I'm a big ball of shy-assed goo that forces itself to not be.
6. Shy-assed goo with kick-ass shoes.
7. Hey! Rhyming on the list!
8. Running errands is one of my favorite things to do. Not only do I love getting things done and feeling accomplished (makes up for all those other Sundays I spend on my ass, watching Buffy DVDs and attempting to keep the cats away from the tortilla chips, or on my porch reading YA novels and attempting to keep the cats off the screen), running errands also involves making lists and checking things off said lists.
9. Just about everything I love about the summer happened last weekend. I went to a show, read some kinda overblown fantasy, had popsicles, danced like a goober, logged some crush time, drank crap beer, had a picnic, rolled down a hill, went to a cheap movie, drank too much coffee too late at night, had a rambling and somewhat coherent conversation sort of late at night on my porch, and went to the craft store.
10. At the craft store, I bought fake flowers (real fake) to wear in my hair. I'm totally rocking the flowers all damn summer long.
11. Saturday night I called my mom on someone else's phone, slightly drunk and very silly, to ask her if my parents still had the video Lara, this girl Jasmine, and I made lip-syncing and dancing to "Hangin' Tough".
12. The thing my mom says that irritates me the most is, "I don't mean to sound unsympathetic..."
13. The 2nd thing is, "Do it for me." This usually accompanies some kind of request to do something for my sister that I've been willing to do on my own for a long time.
14. I totally buy into that whole theory that says birth order is responsible for a lot of character traits.
15. While I smirk when the Girl Who Wears Half-Gloves To 80s Night is brought up, secretly I kind of wish I had rocked that, or thought up something equally as great. No one else does that shit, and no one probably ever will.
16. I really really don't like eleven year olds.
17. I find it frustrating when I have half the information I need. Like, there's an envelope for $$ and a bunch of raffle slips in the info desk drawer, and I have a note from the last staff meeting in my trusty work notebook (Nyanko Burger--I'm nothing if not professional) that says a quilt will be raffled off for Relay for Life (if you want to donate and sponsor me, somehow let me know), but I don't have anything that says when the raffle will be, or how much each chance cost.
18. Am I the only person who sees a similarity between the new looks of VOYA and Billboard magazines?
19. While I can be the meanest girl in the world when it comes to bad pickups, as my MySpace friends can now attest and some guy in a puka shell necklace found out Saturday night, I'm all over a good pickup line. They're just so damn few and far between, and the best one I've ever heard, I said.
20. It was, "Hey! Wanna see the picture of Iggy Pop where he looks just like Kim Gordon?" and then the book flipped right open to that page. Damn.
21. I want a tshirt that says "Who's Your Librarian?"
22. I also want one with a heart, a skull and crossbones, and the word Librarian. Not neccessarily in that order.
23. Here are some words I have trouble spelling: piece, neccessary, reccomendation.
24. The other night, I was bitching about how crappy my health coverage is because I have a $30 copay to someone with a $50 copay, so then I felt kinda schmucky.
25. I prefer salty snacks to sweet ones.
26. I still think Where the Wild Things Are has the best book ending, ever.
27. I still know most of the words to Madeline, and all of "Alligators All Around" from Really Rosy.
28. When I was a tiny little Jessy, my favorite Sesame Street muppet was Guy Smiley. My parents took us to see Sesame Street Live, and I cried because my boy wasn't in it.
29. I'm not sure what it says about me that, at 4, I loved a game show host huckster-in-felt, but whatever it is, I like it.
30. I wish Yoda was my neighbor.
31. I'm playing Alchemy right now while I think of other things.
32. I think of the dinosaurs at the Carnegie Museum as old friends, especially the triceratops skull and the brontosaur bone you can touch.
33. Slapstick is funny to me. I play like I'm a conscientious girl, and o! so grown up, but if you fall, I'll probably laugh. Of course, if I fall, I'll laugh harder.
34. At the show Saturday night, there was a kid in a Smashing Pumpkins shirt and it struck me that, had I worn my Pumpkins shirt out when I first started going to shows, I would have been so ostracized. Such is sceniness, I guess.
35. I love a good fantasy novel like almost nothing else, but I can't slog through Tolkien.
36. Loved the movies though, for the same reason I like YA historical fiction: someone else has done the work and the research for me.
37. If someone gave me a buttload of money and I had to either use it to either move to a better apartment or replace the cabinets and counter in my current place, I'd replace the cabinets and counter. Might use the extra to give my downstairs neighbors some etiquette lessons though.
38. 'Cause them throwing chicken at a hot girl to get her attention is never going to stop being funny to me, even as I'm kind of horrified by it.
39. I've moved at least once a year, including dorm rooms and back to my parents' house, since I was 17.
40. Right now, I'm rereading the first four Stephen (Steven?) King Dark Tower books so I can finally read the rest of the series and remember what's gone before.
41. I'm already planning how hermitty I'm going to be July 16 and 17. Nerdy, I know.
42. I read really fast.
43. I can't abide stupidity, but I also don't like when people act like their innate intelligence is some huge personal accomplishment. Your parents might be able to say that, but I think a lot of it's just out of a person's hands. I read this short story when I was in high school and a kid in it said that being proud of his intelligence would be like being proud of his arm: it's always been there, and he didn't do much to put it there.
44. I don't remember the name of the collection this was in, but I think it was award-winning stuff written by teenagers.

OK, I've rambled on long enough here. To Gem Drop!

a list of things, in no particular order

1. My male Evansville peers seem to have a problem with pants fitting. Hey, I like to see some denim-covered ass, OK? Let's all try and go down a size, please.
2. If the kid acts like they know what they're doing for a school assignment, then the grandmother should let them do their thing, and not bother the librarian until the person with the actual assignment acknowledges needing said librarian's help.
3. Ooo, period cranky. Fun.
4. And here comes period sleepy! Good thing I've got those My So-Called Life episodes to watch. Rickie all grown up, here I come!
5. Simon mall gift certificates lose $2.50 every month after their first 7 months. You may be saying, So the fuck what, Jessy!?, but I'm wanting to buy one now that won't get won until the end of July, possibly won't even be picked up until August. Sucks.
6. Also, fye gift cards ordered online want you to put in all this info about the recipient. I think this means I've got to schlep over to the mall at some point soon.
7. I've got the stupid split shift tomorrow. Anyone want to hang out between 12:30 and 4:30, give or take?
8. Becca owns a gazebo. That's amazing.
9. I had something, but I lost it.
10. Is it wrong of me to use the survey form in my library preview issue of Shojo Beat to try and win Eyeko makeup and J-pop cds for myself?
11. Here's a question for the library folk: Why are patrons so against putting books on hold? I mean, why, when I tell people I can get them on the waiting list for one of the 63 unavailable copies of The Grim Grotto (exaggeration), they get a weird look on their face and say no thanks? The library already has your information, it's not like we need anything extra, nor are we going out of our way to perform some astronomical favor for you. Please, lady, just let me put in on hold. Thanks.
12. Half of our Spiderwick Chronicles are under DiTerlizzi. The other half are under Black. Discuss how much this drives me insane, keeping in mind I'm the girl whose personal library is shelved using the Library of Congress classifications.
13. I also have a database of all my records, cds, etc. on my computer, but it's sadly in need of updating.
14. How come more picture books aren't bigger than 8 1/2 x 11? I had this great idea to make document holders out of old kids' books, like those handbags made from old hardbacks, but is there a point in creating something to protect, say, a resume, if you still have to fold that item to place it in the protector?
15. I'm reading the first book in Scott Westerfeld's Midnighters series. I can't tell if I like it or not, but maybe it's just because of the awesomeness of the last book I read: Sunshine by Robin Mckinley. Totally filled the hole Joss Whedon left in my Tuesday nights o! so long ago.
16. Someone apparently just made a 911 hang up from the pay phone in the lobby. Bunch of savages in this town.
17. Have I mentioned my distaste for 10-12 year olds? Odd, then, that I had so much fun at the 5th grade retreat last week and am looking forward to the next one so much. Maybe it's just the sort of 10-12 year old boys who travel in packs around here.
18. I've also got a bunch of school visits coming up. This is always fun, especially now that I'm armed with the Magic Booktalking Sentence: "Who wants a book about vampires?" Works like a charm.
19. Werewolves are good too. God bless you, Stephen Cole.
20. You know what's weird? This browser window won't close. Just this one.
21. My typing suddenly went all to hell. Whenever that happens, it makes me think of Douglas Coupland and Miss Wyoming.

we like dancing and we look divine

So I did give up on A Great and Terrible Beauty: I found the 3rd Artemis Fowl book on cd at the library on Saturday. I love the guy who narrates those, so much that I’m actually kind of disappointed I read The Wish List, instead of listening to it. I also got Firefly (so I can finally watch the end of it—Katie and I didn’t last that long at our great Fireflyathon last year), Waiting for Guffman, which I probably won’t get a chance to watch before it’s due, Puff by Bob Flaherty, Lads by David Itzkoff, and a book of 3 novellas that I can’t remember the title of right now. Puff is good so far, both in a general way and in an every so often I laugh out loud kind of way.
I had my 3 day weekend and feel like it was jam-packed, which was nice for a change. Friday I painted my bathroom bright pink, which my landlords will discover tomorrow when they have to do a walkthrough for some reason. I told my building manager about the dripping in my bathroom, but I don’t know if that was necessarily the right thing to do. Because I know they won’t fix the roof, the source of the problem. If anything is done, it’ll be done to my newly-painted bathroom, where a mess will be made for me to clean up, once the maintenance people finally get the hell out of there. It’s at times like these that I really wish I had a house, so that all this kind of junk was my responsibility. Slumlordship is only fun in Monopoly. Friday night I watched To Wong Foo with Melissa and a bunch of her friends. Fun, but the movie just made me want to watch Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, which is the far superior drag queen flick, for my money.
My Saturday night plans were switched to Sunday, so I got to go to 80s night. It was so much fun to just dance like an idiot and drink cheap gin again. I did feel pretty stupid, though, when I realized that I was the only dancer playing air keyboard during “Take On Me” or pumping my fist at the end of “Dancing with Myself”. It’s a good thing he didn’t play “Like a Prayer”, because I would’ve had to break out the dance Tiff, Cindy, and I made up, and no one wants to see that. Also, it was strange not instinctively knowing what the next song would be. Ah, Lou: you play the same damn set every week. Pittsburgh hipsters are creatures of habit, I know, but c’mon.
And then Sunday I saw Ray. Why, o why, was this the script they used for Ray Charles’ life? It read like one of those made-for-VH-1 movies, leading to a whole discussion comparing those movies. Verdict? The Meatloaf one is the best, and the Lennon-McCartney one is the worst. So many other things about it were good, which only makes the script thing worse. You can be the best actor in the world, but when you get saddled with lines about being blind and afraid of the dark, or have to work through a withdrawl scene so unoriginal I fully expected a dead baby to start crawling across the ceiling, as opposed to just in pools of hallucinated water, talent just doesn’t go as far. No, Jamie Foxx, you’re not, but you see my point. And sorry, buddy, but the Academy isn’t giving you shit this year. Take it up with Clint. Wait…is Foxx nominated for supporting Tom Cruise? Maybe he’ll get that. And the “Hit the Road Jack” scene? I was wincing. In a dark theater.
Luckily, the costume and set design were flawless, so I spent most of my time admiring the ladies’ clothes and coveting the mural behind whats-his-face’s desk at the big record company. Anyone wanna paint that in my hallway? And trying to ID the producer guy at Atlantic, who I finally realized was Endless Mike. I love that guy.
Normally, I guess I’m just not that much of a fan of the musician biopic. They have to have something extra to hold my interest: an almost cloyingly postmodern story structure, like 24 Hour Party People or De-Lovely, or homoeroticism, like Velvet Goldmine. Or Robbie Williams, like, um, De-Lovely.