I may not be cowardly or frigid, but at least I can emasculate something.

Thursday morning started perfectly. I had a little bit of that gross post-beer taste in my mouth, but that was the only sign of the Wednesday night birthdayathon. The temperature was perfect: it had even been a little chilly the night before, which is why I was under my comforter. My brand new comforter (look, isn't it cute?) that I had ony pulled out of the packaging Wednesday night, because even though I can think, ooo, cheap cute blankie! during a heat advisory, I can't be bothered to open said blankie, or even move it further into the apartment than the top of the stairs.
Anyway, I go into the kitchen, apologize to the boys while giving them the last of their food, totally blaming this non-dress-wearing jerk for distracting me from catfood shopping the night before. I make breakfast. I take said breakfast back into my room, and have no sooner set everything down and gotten comfy again when I spy, over the edge of my mug, a certain furry someone who evidentally doesn't agree with me about the cuteness of the new comforter. He thinks it should be yellower and stinky, if you catch my drift. His jerkass brother agrees.*
Which is why I spent all of my work breaks yesterday at the laundromat. Don't worry, the smell seems to be all gone.
Which is why my mattress was still wet from stank-be-gone and I had to sleep on my futon couch last night.
Which is why I borrowed the livetrap from Becca and Kevin (stars of such stories as That Time I Got Stuck on the On-Ramp and You Can Rent a Fern!?).
Which is why I spent my 25 minute commute this morning listening to increasingly demanding mews, escalating into straight-up pissed off yowls once we got into the vet's office.
Which is why, I like to think, I was too distracted to notice what plastic container I grabbed this morning, leading me to mistakenly bring a brick of plain tofu, extra firm, for lunch. Yum.
I tried to take a picture of the caged furriness in my backseat, but my camera's battery decided to go off right then. And I'm really really hoping they'll still be woozy on the way back.
Mrow!

*Weirdly enough, Johnny was the first one to let go; usually any jerk behavior is started by the Legster.

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

ALA by the Numbers, or, It's About Damn Time

• Famous authors who thought I was a kid: 2 (Christopher Paul Curtis, who asked me what grade I was in, and Meg Rosoff, who you kind of have to feel bad for, since she won the Printz and they were giving out free hardback copies of her book and her autograph table wasn’t exactly hoppin’)
  
• Former Carnegie coworkers I randomly ran into: 2
  
• Former Hillman coworkers I randomly ran into: 1
  
• Hugs from virtual strangers who know Jonah McAllister-Ericson: 1, earning dude the nickname My New Boyfriend
  
• Authors I completely gushed over: 3 (John Green, Francesca Lia Block, and Holly Black)
  
  
• Days after ALA when I realized I totally missed the boat by not asking John Green the MOST IMPORTANT question about Looking for Alaska, namely, how does one make a bufriedo?: about 5
  
• Minutes spent trying to decide which color of American Apparel tshirt scarf to get: 15
  
• Minutes it took, speeding back to the hotel, to realize I already had a long hot pink scarf: less than 5
  
• Times I seriously thought about buying the greenish Coach wristlet with sparklies: about 4
  
• Clothing items tried on at H&M: 25
  
• Clothing items actually purchased at H&M: 2
  
• Size of the only remaining pair of very cute Nine West clearance sale heels: 6 ½, and you better believe I tried them on anyway.
  
• Other instances when I’ve felt as full as after my Big Greek Birthday Dinner: 5, all Indian buffet-related
  
• Teen Hole potential booths photographed: 3
  
  
• Advance Copies scored: at least 40
  
• Advance copies I’ve actually read and now am excited about pushing when they actually come out: 5
  
• Advance copies I’m excited about giving as prizes in various ways: all but 5 or 6—those puppies are for me and mine.
  
• Times I went back to try and score an Eldest galley, to no avail: 3
  
• Number of times Marissa and I thought, Becca kicks ass!, during the “how to publicize” portion of the writing group workshop: many many many
  
• Duration of my post-Francesca Lia Block/Edwards Award (like the lifetime achievement for YA lit) Luncheon huge grin: all damn day, even made the horrific Proquest Scholarship Bash shuttle fiasco not so bad.
  
• Alex Award (10 adult books with YA appeal) winners I now want to read: 1 (Rats: Observations on the History and Habitat of the City’s Most Unwanted Inhabitants by Robert Sullivan)
  
• Alex Award winners I had already read, and force on as many people as humanly possible: 2 (Candyfreak by Steve Almond, which is basically the chocolate equivalent of porn, and Donorboy by Brendan Halpin, which I talk about here)
  
• Programs I couldn’t go to because all the YALSA-relevant stuff was at the same damn time: 3 (Who puts “How the Children’s and Young Adult Professional Censors” and “We’ve Got Your Back: Librarians and Teens Speak Out on Intellectual Freedom” concurrent!?)
  
• Times I thought I made the wrong choice with “Reaching Reluctant Reader”: 0
  
• Fun euphemisms for “reluctant reader”: 2, dormant reader and discriminating reader (I heart “dormant reader”--I think it's a really useful and accurate way to think about matching people and stories.)
  
• YA authors who my opinion of has changed: 1—I still don’t like her books, but Gail Giles is a hell of a speaker.
  
• Speakers who only made me love them and what I do more: 5 (Francesca, obviously, she and Paula Danziger are practically why I’m a YA librarian; Alex Flinn, who is just so very very super awesome and has gotten one of my favorite regulars out of the fantasy ghetto [admittedly a pretty fun place to live]; Judy Blume; and, of course, Barack and David Sedaris)
  
• Percentage of Reluctant Reader nonfiction picks that weren’t mainstream hip-hop related, and would therefore circ at my library: maybe 15%?
  
• Blatantly bleeding-heart liberal moments: 3 (Barack Obama and his many spontaneous applause bursts, PLA asking David Sedaris to speak and it being super-packed, and who else but teen librarians would, in the midst of crazy censoring, Bush administration, etc., award their lifetime achievement award to a woman who writes about fairies—both kinds, and I totally stole that joke from Francesca and her speech?)
  
• Women wearing totally kick-ass, Weetzie-esque outfits at the Edwards Luncheon: 10 or so
  
• Books mentioned at the Reluctant Reader thing that I think the Teen Hole needs: 12
  
• Pictures taken of Sue: 4
  
  
• Stupid me Tiff ‘n’ Alison in-jokes referenced: 1
  
  
• Attempted pictures of Barack Obama, where he is seen as only a bright white light (you can jump to your own supernatural conclusions about this): 2
  
  
• Business cards scored: 4
  
• Famous YA author’s publicists who swapped cards with me: 1, Darren Shan’s (the Cirque Du Freak guy)
  
• Furniture vendors who took me seriously as a potential customer: 2, Demco and Gressco
  
• Narrowly averted bounces from the Sirsi party: 1 (Slightly wavily walking lady comes up to us, asks, “Are you with Sirsi?” which we aren’t, because Sirsi basically works for us, then says, “You have to leave immediately. This is a private function.” And then I got another glass of “mer-lottt”, which was actually cabernet sauvignon. And then I found $5/that’s how I got pinkeye.)
  
• Pictures of librarians dancing with robots: 5
  
  
• Attempted catch-phrases: 3 (“To the Bookmobile!”; “First of all, Santa didn’t use to do anything;” and various quotes from Sedaris airplane/crossword piece)
  
• Greasy hipsters I walked directly behind (you know why) for at least 2 blocks: 2—they were together, but not in the me ‘n’ Melissa assumed-at-the-gay-bar kind of way. At least I don’t think so…mmmm, greasy hipster boy-on-boy…
  
• Scary owls: 1
  
  
• Times my opinionated ass was totally vindicated by the 2 teenaged boys at the Reluctant Reader thing (who were also great): several, but mostly when they went off on Stargirl. Hee.
  
• Minutes spent at the Soft Skull booth, not because I’m professionally interested in their product, but because the rep had a lovely Irish accent: a few more than necessary
  

I'm a nerd, but...

...this is freakin' awesome!

"Yes, but he's no puff," she cried. "He's more of a man than you'll ever be."

It’s the biweekly Billboard bitch!

• Carly Simon looks like she’s wearing a Warhol wig as a hat. Which is a shame, since her dress is really kind of pretty, in a former-hippie kind of way.
  
• Billboard weirds me out because of all of the talk of music as a business, like it could be a trade journal for any industry, or at least any industry with a crap-ton of money. No one talks about the actual music, except in the obligatory reviews. Now, I realize that’s what it’s for, but a girl can only read so many “Why’s the industry in the toilet!?” articles without wanting to yell, “Stop only making shitty music easily available, and charge less for cds, you mooks!”
  
• And I don’t think the chokehold on radio is helping much, either.
  
• I have a stupid question for Bob Geldof: How do free concerts raise $$ for Africa? Is this like how we were all supposed to be surprised by the lack of snow in equatorial countries at Christmas?
  
• A-HEM: “McDonald’s is looking to various fashion houses—Rocawear and Phat Farm—to help revamp its employee uniform.” All the responses are trying to get out at the same time, and my brain is having a traffic jam.
  
• I don’t know what the man on page 9 sounds like, music-wise, but damn he’s pretty. Also on page 9, do alleged pirates like alleged ham?
  
• Things I Never Ever Thought I’d Say: Kelly Clarkson is wearing a really cute shirt on page 28, next to a more-handsome-than-usual Billie Joe Armstrong. Still both unnecessary, however.
  
• And finally, thankfully, someone mentions the obvious in Billboard: if I’m paying out the ass for gas, I can’t go see a $35 show, or buy a $20 album. But of course, that’s not the highlighted quote. The highlighted quote is about getting music not in a record store, because Billboard (and, presumably by extention, the industry) refuse to let there be any other factor in their decline aside from illegal downloading.
  
• Goddam, I hate the Eagles.
  
• I really think that, in the top 25 tours list, they should list ticket price as well. I want to know how many people could see Velvet Revolver for the price of a Rod Stewart ticket. Oh, there it is. Nevermind.
  
• It’s cheaper to get the primo seats for Kylie than to nosebleed it for The Eagles. And I thought that U2 were all stripped back now, no more giant mirrorball lemons and what have you, so why does it cost $50 for their cheap seats? That being said, if I hadn’t already seen BMRC and Interpol, and it was in a convenient locale, and I had a bit more money than usual, and a time machine was involved so that I could see the U2 I wanted to see, $90 doesn’t seem like too much. Of course, than you factor in the convenience charge and I’m in the poorhouse.
  
• And wouldn’t seeing U2 with the Killers just really, really make you want that time machine?
  
• Paul McCartney can kiss my ass. “Now I’ve earned my Wings.” “I knew he was an angel!” “No, this cd of Wings greatest hits!...band on the run…”
  
• That was all for you, Cara.
  
• New Depeche Mode album…interesting.
  
• Danny Elfman writing the score for a Tim Burton movie counts as a news items?
  
• I’ve seen that Hilary Duff liquid icebreakers commercial like 100x in the past three days. It always reminds me of the free sample I got of them, along with a warning, when I bought my history book last summer.
  
• Damn, I wish I could have seen Xiu Xiu. Stupid ALA timing.
  
• Aww, Mos Def. So cute.
  
• Damn, IceT’s wife has some big tits. I mistook her for Mariah Carey, at first.
  Because, really, it’s just not me bitching about Billboard unless I throw in a reference to Carey’s ginormous, unnatural hooters.
  
• Hee, I said hooters.

No, I never never say never take it out on you.

Ever since I moved here, I seem to hear more and more the "Nice guys finish last" complaint. Granted, I kind of like this better than the old frequent complaint I used to hear (Cool guys + boring girls = no dates for cool girls), but that's probably because I was always the one making that complaint.

But this, this isn't a defense, or a shout-out. Because it's not about nice guys and jerks, with the jerks getting all the girls. It's about the boys who pretend, and the boys who are honest. It's about the boys who can't talk, vs the ones that do.

What are you pretending, boys who claim that girls don't like you because you're not a jerk? You're pretending to be our friends. You're not our friends. Our friends are the people we feel comfortable with, comfortable enough to talk about things with, things like times when our boyfriends are jerks, or we're going through a dry spell, or we're upset about anything at all. Because, yes, sometimes our boys will be jerks, or will have a jerk moment. You just think they're all jerks because, well, girls like to bitch to their friends, which--remember? You're pretending to be. Also, you've become a bit blinded by your jealousy, perhaps. We feel comfortable enough with you to talk with you, all the while you're hiding shit from us. Stop hiding from us, and tell us how you feel. Our real friends don't get all passive-aggressive about other boys in our lives. Our real friends don't give us weirdly romantic compliments, and then not understand why we're confused by what seem to be mixed messages.
Because the messages are mixed. Because girls, contrary to what you "Nice Guys" seem to think, don't automatically assume that everyone wants us. In fact, I think most of us assume the opposite; I blame junior high for that. Unless you tell us that you like us, we don't know. And, and this is the big important point here, you have no room to bitch if we don't read your mind and never find out that you are interested in us that way.

But how come you never say anything to us, all the "Nice Guys" wonder. They think girls should make the first move, since they can't. Girls don't make the first move because you've taught us not to. For every girl that successfully makes the first move (and I didn't think this was possible until very recently--Hey, Kyle), there are at least 3 girls who are not thought of as desperate for approaching a boy. I don't want to even think about how many slips of paper with my number on them, how many unanswered emails, how many promised and not delivered phone calls there are out there because I approached some boy who wouldn't have had the balls to say anything to me, but then got scared off by a girl actually hitting on him.

So I've got a new model. (Sorry for the "model"--we had long range planning stuff at work yesterday, so I'm all lingo-y). There aren't Nice Guys and jerks. There aren't desperate girls and oblivious girls. There are people who are brave enough to tell you they like you, people brave enough to respond, and people who should think about learning these skills.
Because us girls are getting impatient with this Brian Krakow bullshit.

Let the irate comments begin! (Hey, Other Kyle)

I'll put a real post up soon, I swear.

heart.