Inspiration

Wrote a song last night titled "You Suck." Gee, I'm not sure what exactly inspired me, but it's a pretty good song, though I consider it too obscene to publish here. Animal lovers will be delighted to know that donkeys feature prominently in the lyrics.

Sometimes I Miss Gremlin

Pout

I feel sulky.

Money Tastes Good

Ok, so I put my money where my mouth is and ordered the beginnings of the new kinder, funkier, naturally-fibered me. Sierra Trading Post loves me now. And J Jill is kind enough to not charge my card until April 23. Plus I got glittery thigh high stockings just because I like them. Thank you, Karin, for your patience and eye for style!

oops

I feel kinda dumb but I was talking to my lovely friend Karin who asked me where in Orange County Bob lives...uh, he doesn't live in Orange County, he lives in San Diego County (and embarrassingly enough, I can't remember the name of his town but it's fairly close to San Diego.)

New Fashion Track

Ok, I can admit it now: the Spiegel thing didn't work. I want affordable, fashionable, well-fitting clothes that are of good quality, and Spiegel is missing the boat.

I think I need to edge back to more natural fibers, funky cool shoes, hand-knit hats, and thigh-high stockings (I found a great spot for them online at Sock Dreams.) Skirts will still be knee-length or just below the knee, and I think perhaps cardigans rather than blazers? Because I can never find blazers that fit right over my boobs.

Blogging Naked

Plugging Books, Books, Books

So Linda & I now have a book blog together!!!!!!!!!????!!!

Take a look, people; the link is on the right. The vast philosophical distance between Linda and I becomes immediately apparent! But this is a good thing because you can have the best of both worlds: meaningful and trashy.

Plus there is lots of sex.

Well, not really, but I thought it might make more people look at the blog. Actually, yes, there is a lot of sex. Just read between the lines.

P-con 2007, part II: HPM

The ex-archivist wants to know about the hot pagan man I met at P-con...we bumped into each other at the Saturday nite Tribal Rave Trance Dance (where I was totally groovin' even though the music wasn't really my first choice) We danced for a while & then met again the next evening, and had extreme salty soup at the Coffee Garden (neither of us was very hungry.)

The salt soothed my throat, which was good because by that time the tail end of my stupid cold had combined with long hours and lots of yelling at the registration desk to give me laryngitis, which I still have.

So I communicated via post-it notes for the whole meal. Now the interesting thing about this is that looking back I realize I now know a bunch about him, but he knows very little about me. So I am a mysterious lady. Unless of course he got all my backstory from someone else at the con.

His name is Bob. Really sweet, really sexy, really lives in San Diego County.

P-con 2007

Ahhh, P-con! Very tired now, though I got home hours ago & took a nap.

For those of you who don't know, Pantheacon is a pagan conference held every President's Day Weekend in San Jose. I work the registration desk each year.

Many wonderful and strange things occurred, though I am too tired to enumerate them now. I'll blog about all the juicy details tomorrow, people.

Here is a short list of interesting events that I could discuss: Magic non-Norse runes, Living Tarot, Trance Dance, Hot Pagan Man, Hanging with Mary, too many hours at the reg desk, my abominable never-ending cold that I pray to the gods I have not passed on, ribbon whores, a kinder, gentler Con-Ops, interminable ride with arguing couple, creepy guy in the hospitality suite.

So perhaps I will blog on all of these topics. Or only some of them and leave you hanging...

Pantyhose Strangulation

I spent the day being oppressed by my tights. What freakish shape do those manufacturers think queen size women are????!!!!!!!! Jeez.

Squinchy things around my stomach make me grouchy, I am now on a mission to find good sources for thigh-high opaque stockings. In cool colors.

I would like to take these tights and wrap them extremely snugly around the neck of the person responsible for inventing the damn things. And whoever it was who made them de rigeur for office dressing.

Valentroll

Just had an excellent Valentine's night out, Nancy and I went to Dinner at Sabuy Sabuy (Thai food) on College Ave, and then had a quiet drink at the Kona Club, where we sat next to this really nice guy, Robert, who was playing some bar game machine and having a drink while he waited for his girlfriend to get ready so he could go pick her up.

As it turns out, Robert is a tight end for the Buffalo Bills. But we didn't talk about that much since neither Nancy nor I know shit about football.

Sweet guy. He is going Home to New Orleans to spend Mardi Gras with his family and cook crabs (he loves to cook). Loves his girlfriend. Likes to buy houses.

Fried Rice?

Just wondering when it is that they stopped putting water chestnuts in fried rice, or any other Chinese food, for that matter. I like water chestnuts. Where are they?!?

Thank Sekhmet It's Friday

Well, the battles of the work week are nearly done, and I have hopes that I shall arise in the end, unscathed and covered in my enemies' blood.

Though I don't know if this goddess-of-war metaphor applies, since everyone at my new job has been so helpful. I keep having people come up to me and say, "How are you doing? Are you feeling really overwhelmed?"

Overwhelmed seems to be a key word at the Wright-at least five people have asked me this question in just those words. Maybe it's a psychology thing, talkin' about the feelings and whatnot. But I don't feel overwhelmed, and here's why:

In order to be overwhelmed, I would need to feel helpless in the face of my new job. And I don't feel helpless at all. Frustrated sometimes, but not helpless. And I have confidence that I will learn! (and never you mind the dark doubts late at night; those don't count except as manifestations of some understandable anxiety!)

Lunch for Troll

Hi! Just finished writing a thank-you letter to the prez of the Wright Institute because he took me to lunch to pick my brains about the tuition project thing I did (almost put that in hte present tense there, but I think it probably belongs in the past. I have never been more confused in my life.) I dropped a piece of lettuce on my shirt (read, "protruding bosom") and went for the rest of the day with a grease stain on my boob.

Today was my 2nd day working onsite at the Wright Institute. Crazy! I got dropped into the middle of a job where there is no one to train me because no one knows how to do the job except the guy who just left. Yikes.

But I think I'll have fun. I hope. Trying not to feel too anxious. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Gonna get it figured out. Yeah.

Pulpy Love

I was walking Rose one morning this past week when we came across a bunch of books stacked up on a wall for people to take. I guess they didn't want to bother walking them to the library to donate? I don't mind, because I scored on a half-dozen romances.

I used to gobble up romance novels when I was a teenager, until I started to wonder why the prerequisites for finding true love were so specific: 1. the girl must be a virgin (and the guy must not be a virgin). 2. If you live in England, or in any European country, you must be an aristocrat. 3. the guy must be a complete asshole. I suppose the third requirement is easy enough to fill, but what about the first 2?

If you think this made me stop reading romances, you are wrong. I just make crabby comments in the marginalia of my mind and skim through the extra-crappy writing until a) something happens that actually moves the plot forward or b) I hit a love scene. (Which is really why people read these, anyway. Never kid yourself, romances are porn. Or at least the best parts of them are.)

So here's what I read; I started to give mini reviews, but realized it's a waste of time, so I'll just list 'em:
A Perfect Bride by Samantha James
Breathless, by Kat Martin; and Heartless, by the same author
The Barefoot Princess by Christina Dodd (notably good love scenes)
A couple of others that were quintessentially forgettable.

Bittersweet Sing-Along on the Fence

Hi! I cannot make up my mind. Really want to do the Bittersweet Valentines Sad Song Sing-Along next weekend, but not sure if I'll have time. But I want to do it, maybe I should make time. What should I do? I suppose I will dither until it is too late.

Goat Day (This is a test)

Ais added me to her blog so I could post about books I'm reading, but this first post is not about a book. Actually, I'm just trying to figure out how to post, so hopefully the picture of Hilda and I that I tried to upload shows up. I went goat milking at Slide Ranch, and Hilda was the sweetest and most loving goat of all. I actually drank the milk right from her teet (is that how you spell it?) when miking her by squirting it straight into my mouth. Afterward, she kept nuzzling me and giving those cute goat eyes that I just couldn't resist. I had never milked a goat before, and never knew how loving and adorable goats are.

Knittin n Freakin

Linda and Nancy were just over, and we had the best time knitting (except for Nancy, who doesn't knit) and freaking to Kelly Peters Make It Happen, Tom Petty, and Sublime. First we would knit for a while, and then the uncontrollable impulse to dance would take over, and we would all leap up and start freaking. We did the straight freak, the cowboy freak, and I tried to remember the Prep but could only recall the brush-off.

Complete with a guest appearance by Jake, the household 3-year-old, who refused to breakdance, sadly. (He's quite good.)

Wonder what the neighbors thought.

In other news, Linda suggested that we blog together about books we are reading. What a great idea!!!!!! She doesn't want to moderate it though, and I am too lazy to run an additional blog, so I have invited her to post book stuff on this one; after all, she is an honorary hilltroll. So be looking forward to many fine book reviews, everyone!

Even More Hair

I woke up this morning and staggered bleary-eyed to the bathroom. Looked in the mirror and for some reason my hair was absolutely gorgeous! Artfully tousled, it hung sexily around my shoulders, framing the huge bags under my eyes perfectly.

Went back to bed.

I have laryngitis and cannot speak very well.

Into the Stratosphere

As of last Sunday, the infamous Larry is GONE. To Chicago. Yay!

Nancy emailed me an announcement with this terrific graphic that you see here.

She & I met for celebratory tikis Monday evening at the Kona Club & planned our futures as hot single women. Hmmnn. Well, we shall see what happens next.

Um, the drinks at the Kona Club are a bit strong (or maybe I am even more of a lightweight than I thought); I only had two, but felt fairly..what's the word? Buzzed, that's it. The Kiss of Death was delicious (& potent), and the Blood Orange tasted like liquified orange tic-tacs.

Nancy is a great companion for places like that, being far more open, friendly, and capable of striking up conversations with people than I; but being with her is like getting infected with a sort of disease of Gregariousness, and suddenly I was chatting with Nancy, the bartender, various folks who walked into the bar, and the plastic monkey and mermaid that came with my drinks.

Looking forward to a dazzling future, sans Larry and his Space Pickle!