tavie.com

Steph is here and we're havin' a sleepover and shit and doin' all this sleepover stuff and it's fuckin' cool, man, it's fuckin' cool.

Oh, well. I thought I could pull that off, but I can't.

But, yeah, Steph is here. We were trying to figure out why we haven't seen each other in a couple months-- she's my other best friend and we're always going long periods without seeing one another because she just graduated from college in Tennessee and now she's back with her mom on Staten Island-- and then we remembered that we were supposed to have lunch a couple months ago. Tuesday, September 11th, actually. So, that didn't happen.

But now we're having a sleepover and it's grand old times. And I'm gluing green felt together for no reason and calling it "Christmas crafts".

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:41 PM | shower me with attention

When me and Kirsten were little, we used to dress up in matching velvet dresses and go every year with our mom and Tante Joan to see "The Nutcracker" at the New York City Ballet.
We haven't gone in years and years but it was one of my favourite traditions. We even went on Christmas Eve a few times, I think, although now I don't see how as those must have been the hardest tickets to get.
Even now, although I have not gone in many years, I can't think about Christmas in New York City without picturing, somewhere in the recesses of my grey gloop, the great angel on the curtain before the performance and the giant tree and the snowflakes on the stage and the giant gingerbread lady and the dancing candy cane people.
And always when we came back from the ballet, our dad would have the Nutcracker out and waiting and say, "Look what Drusselmeyer left", and there was our battered old Nutcracker. Now he's missing a foot and his cap is broken and I've glued cotton where his hair's fallen out, but he's still here, the remaining vestige of that tradition.
Maybe some year I'll get us tickets again. But I'd better stop spending money now, because at the prices, fourth ring seats just aren't worth it.
I don't think...

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:43 PM | shower me with attention

I love Steve...

So he threw me
rope and buoy
let me use his decoder ring...

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:15 AM | shower me with attention

Is it sad that I have The Mind of the Married Man on in the background because I heard they sometimes use Michael Penn on the soundtrack?

I think I should spend this weekend finishing painting the dining room, as a surprise. But I don't think I'll end up doing so.

I really want to listen to Susan right now for some reason. Maybe from reading Rynn's blog, or maybe just because, you know. Just because. But I don't have the CD with me.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:17 AM | shower me with attention

See, this should be completely inspiring:

My main character/protagonist is a female. My main character is a maestro. An archetype present in my story is Mother Goddess. A key object or symbol in my story is a neglige. My story will be set in Vancouver. My story is about infidelity.

But I can't think of a single story.
Sad.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:05 AM | shower me with attention

This link, provided by my friend Shannon, would be a very fine thing indeed if I wasn't completely lacking in imagination.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:00 AM | shower me with attention

Friday, November 23, 2001

NewsRadio is on tv now. How curious. Is it always on 11:30 pm Friday nights? I had no idea. It's a good one. Jimmy gives everyone but Matthew a Miata.

I want to deck the halls but I'm not terribly motivated to go through the crawlspace. You all wish you were over here with me right now, making green-and-red paper chains and watching NewsRadio

I am trying to cast the people I know in the mythical fairy tale of my life. I have my own ideas of what everyone is, but I need some help with my own casting. Do you think I am more hulking, or squat? If I am hulking, I am a gentle-hearted, foolish ogress; if I am squat, I am a kind, bumbling troll maiden. (In case you're wondering, in my head I've already cast a pixie, a sprite, a mysterious princess, an Amazon warrior, an Oracle, a winsome hobbit maiden, a decievingly sweet sorceress, and an evil magician. Some of you may even be able to guess who you are, but I ain't tellin'. And since I'm the only person who would read this far in my blog, it doesn't really matter.)

(Okay, Goose is the Evil Magician. But I ain't tellin' the rest.)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:56 PM | shower me with attention

I just watched American Pie. I don't think I got it.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:50 PM | shower me with attention

Because my friends are all lazy fuckers, I'm spending the weekend here at Mint Manor alone with the cat. I am feeling very Christmas-y and wonder if Gina would be mad if I were to go into the crawlspace and start adorning the house with yule, or whatever. Or maybe I'll just get some construction paper and wallpaper the entire house with badly-made reindeer and snowmen. I feel craftsy. Christmas makes me feel craftsy. I bought a lot of Christmas presents today. I bought them all online. I spent a lot of money. I am very naughty. Santy Claus will get me nothing this year for being so naughty, and for calling my friends "fuckers".

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:08 PM | shower me with attention

Must. Stop. Spending. Money.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:35 PM | shower me with attention

I just plunked down like half a week's salary to get my aunt tickets to "Urinetown: The Musical" for her birthday.

She's not getting a Christmas present this year. That was a good-ass gift, man. That should count as a birthday-SLASH-Christmas present.

Ah, see, I'm getting tightfisted already. You all are missing the boat. Soak me now while there's still time!

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:38 PM | shower me with attention

After Christmas, Tavie is buying herself a laptop. She wants an iBook because she's more comfortable with Macs, but if you can convince her that a non-Mac would be better, she'll go another way. She is also looking for suggestions for an alias in case American Express come looking for her. Ulp.

But I don't care, baby! I need me a laptop! I need me my very own computer with a DVD-rom and a CD-RW and it will be MIIIINE ALL MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE! YEAH BABY! That's the dream!

Gaaaaaaaaaaaah, I gotta get back to work.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:59 AM | shower me with attention

Theresa just came over to me at my boring desk and said, "Let me see what they've got you doing." She picked up my stack of papers, rifled through them.

"Holy shit. You're putting all these in?"

"Checking if they're there; if they're not, putting 'em in."

"Holy shit." She starts to laugh. "Better you than me!"

Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:47 AM | shower me with attention

Now I have to... go over to the boring desk... and do boring, boring, BORING crap for an hour and a half (which is the amount of time I make myself work before I allow myself to sneak back over here and play Tosswords.)

Pity me, you peasants.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:21 AM | shower me with attention

Now, I am at work. No one else seems to be at work. Except me. But I DO know that I have work today, because on Tuesday Theresa said to me, "Remind me to give you a training class on Friday."

I was out Wednesday. I was having horrible head-and-sinus issues, and also, I really wanted to sleep, and also, I really relished the idea of two days off in a row. Problem was that I didn't call in, because the only number I have is Theresa's and I knew she wouldn't be there Wednesday.

So I am here now, vaguely dreading what Lauren/Alex/Theresa will say about Irresonsible Wednesday, but no one seems to be bloody well here yet. Which is good for now, but SOMEONE better show up because if they don't sign off on my time sheet today, I don't get paid.

Ah, Theresa just walked in.

It's warm in here. What the? They finally started heating the place?

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:19 AM | shower me with attention

Thursday, November 22, 2001

Oh, and. My Gina is safely in Israel (as safely as "in Israel" can be) until next Wednesday. Tomorrow after work I'll go to Mint Manor and stay the weekend, and shuttle back and forth to and from work on Monday and Tuesday (worth the cab fares to ease Gina's mind, and I like being on Riley duty.) I asked her to please bring me dried figs.

My mom bought me a knitting bag from Israel last weekend. She purchased it at some Jewish museum in Chicago. It's either really gaudily old-ladyish, or groovily neo-hippie. I just hold my breath and hope it's the latter, for I'm using it as a purse. (Hey, it's sturdy.) I wonder if I ought to just dye my hair grey and become an old lady. I think I'm really very good at it. Everyone will call me "Granny" instead of Tavie, and ask me what it was like in "the old country" (Brooklyn), and to tell them stories about the olden days when the subway cost $1.15 (the 80's).

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:58 PM | shower me with attention

My Goose (my Goose, MY Goose) lives a perfectly literary life.

I'm not quite sure what that means, except that I wish it to mean that episodes from her life, such as those recounted in her blog, read like a particularly well-written novel. I'd publish her, were I a publishing company. (I'd make a fine publishing company, by jove.)

My Matt lives a similarly literary life. They'd be a good series. An excellent series. Were I a publishing company their lives would be available in colourfully-packaged boxsets for the holidays. A tender Christmas Goose, and a sprig of My Little Love, it's all very festive in my head.

Oh, so much gravy, I don't even really like gravy, except for its usefulness as a pronunciation aid.

Oh, so much stuffing. Oh, too much Republican yam casserole. ("We're having Laura Bush's recipe this year." "But WHY? Stop SAYING it, it tastes GOOD. I don't want to KNOW that." "I also glazed the turkey with Laura Bush's glaze." "Shut UP!")

I made an apple tart for dessert. It was pretty. I can make good (real) hot cocoa, and I can make good apple pie, and passable omelettes. That is all I can make. In case you ever need me to cook for you.

I picked up a dusty recorder and played the bridge from "All Good Gifts" until I was told to stuff it, after which I played that "We gather together" song, except I, like Steve, was thinking the MST3K lyrics when I played it.

I belched and it tasted like pecans.

My mom kept feeding the cats under the table, to our amusement and mock consternation. We sat down to eat and she started ripping up turkey and dropping it to Lily. "Where's Rosie? I can't eat without giving some to Rosie," she said, and got up to fetch Miss Diva Cat. This was all terribly amusing to us, as she is usually very crabby about the cats and insists she doesn't love them a bit, and only pets them when she thinks we're not looking. To see her being openly, mischieviously generous with the table scraps was a treat for all. ("And some for Mister Tur-tell!", who sat on top of his portion and blinked at us with suspicious reptilian eyes.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:48 PM | shower me with attention

Happy Throgsgrafen!!

As per family tradition, I was roused out of bed a few minutes before the Official Beginning of the Christmas Season (i.e. Santa Claus closing the Macy's Parade.) The smells, which I can barely detect around my angry sinuses, tell me that Ole Tom is nearing his perfect roasted completion. As per tradition, there was snitched stuffing for the traditional Thanksgiving breakfast, and as per tradition, no one will get dressed, for the four of us eat around the table but once a year, and eat in our pajamas. My mom is on the phone with Tante Joan now for her Traditional Post-Parade Howdy-Santy Claus Happy Thanksgivin' call, for Tante Joan and Don traditionally have their Thanksgiving with Don's family.

I do so love tradition.

Last Thanksgiving we were the four of us, plus Erica, having a holiday in London, and on the day we walked around in the rain and I sang "All Good Gifts" from Godspell over and over as a tribute to the holiday.

But this year, back to tradition. Wooooo hoo, I want me some damn turkey already!

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:12 PM | shower me with attention

Wednesday, November 21, 2001

I dreamed I had a froggy, and Kirsten took care of it.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:39 PM | shower me with attention

Tuesday, November 20, 2001

Overheard from my new hated desk:
"The second one's called A Wind in the Door, right?"
"What about House Like a Lotus?"
"What about A Ring... A Light Ring? A Ring of Light?"
"What's it called..."

Tavie comes barrelling down the aisle towards the sound, shrieking, "A Ring of Endless Light! A Ring of Endless Light! Madeleine L'Engle!!"

Okay, that's not quite how it happened. But it was something like that.

Also overheard from hated desk:
"How can you be a Democrat?"

Brrrrrr.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:31 PM | shower me with attention

I am 60% ADDICTED TO THE INTERNET.

I am pretty addicted, but there is hope. I think I'm just well connected to the internet and technology, but it's really a start of a drug-like addiction. I must act now! Unplug this computer!

Take the INTERNET-ADDICT Test at Fuali.com!

Ayup.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:07 PM | shower me with attention

I do believe it's That Time again. Time for Disturbing Search Referrals!

14 Nov, Wed, 22:58:41 Google: DVD rumours upcoming release "the tick"
15 Nov, Thu, 04:55:31 Google: kris kristoffersson
15 Nov, Thu, 15:31:57 Google: lisa miller boobs
15 Nov, Thu, 17:04:08 Google: the tick animated series dvd
16 Nov, Fri, 02:12:11 Google: lisa miller boobs
16 Nov, Fri, 13:01:17 Google: kitana baker pictures
16 Nov, Fri, 15:39:56 Google: dave foley show fox
16 Nov, Fri, 16:59:50 Google: lisa miller boobs
17 Nov, Sat, 17:36:05 Google: "yo +la tengo" desktop theme
17 Nov, Sat, 21:06:26 Yahoo: +"dave foley" +tick
17 Nov, Sat, 23:23:33 Google: movie man in cubicle beating keyboard and computer
18 Nov, Sun, 13:32:59 Google: dave foley tabitha pictures
18 Nov, Sun, 19:54:17 Google: lisa miller boobs
18 Nov, Sun, 20:39:09 Google: park bench fuck husband
19 Nov, Mon, 00:12:35 Yahoo: how to make chicken parmegiana
19 Nov, Mon, 00:23:11 Yahoo: sister lets me tit fuck her
19 Nov, Mon, 18:13:27 Yahoo: world of Wonders robertson davies theme
19 Nov, Mon, 23:38:47 Google: wtc data entry volunteers
20 Nov, Tue, 00:28:28 Google: "fastest WPM"
20 Nov, Tue, 08:15:56 Google: dunkin donuts and emily post

Fuck, that's creepy. That Lisa Miller boob ones just won't go away. And of course I'm going to get even more for posting this. Sheesh.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:50 PM | shower me with attention

Every hour and a half or so I sneak over here and check my email. I hate that desk. It's nice being around the other office ladies and all but since they're all my superiors, I actually have to sit there and work the whole damn time. I almost fell asleep in front of the keyboard. Why can't they give me access to their stupid database from this desk? Eh? This is MADDENING.

If I had to do this job for the rest of my life I'd go utterly crackerjacks. Please, god, please bless me with creative talent or skill in some capacity. Please don't resign me to this mind-numbing work forever. Please. Please. Make me good at something besides typing.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:45 PM | shower me with attention

I know how sad a fact it is that the highlight of my week is the Sunday NYT magazine, particularly the crossword. I know it. But it is. And I didn't get it this week. Someone stole it, or recycled it, or lost it, or failed to include it when they delivered the paper. My mom tried to pass me the Chicago Tribune supplement she picked up over the weekend, but I will have none of that substandard crap, please.

If anyone happens to have a copy of the magazine still lying around... please? Even just the crossword?

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:48 AM | shower me with attention

Monday, November 19, 2001

I know that my mother doesn't read my blog, or know what one is, or know I have one. So it was a funny coincidence that she called me at work today to tell me that I should start putting money aside to buy myself a laptop, that there are some good prices for ones with DVD-ROM and CD-RWs on them. (Much like the one I linked to below.) She suggested, however, that I get a non-Mac one. That, sir, is completely bogus.

What I really want is that titanium G4 Powerbook thingie, but that ain't gonna happen. I think American Express would put me in jail or something. :P

God, but I want it bad.
And, imagine... not only a CD-ROM that WORKS, but a CD-RW that WORKS. (As opposed to the ones on my iMac at home, which just gather dust and cat hair.) And my own DVD drive. Just for me. It's such a beautiful thought, I may weep just thinking of it...

They thay... they thay thith job will latht til February. I wonder how much I can "put athide" between now and then...

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:56 PM | shower me with attention

The winged statue is an eagle.

Today I started working for Lauren and Alex. I like them but I miss working for Theresa. I was comfortable with her. Anyhow, they had me work at this different desk that's near Theresa, which is nice, but I miss my old desk. I can't surf the internet from there. I hate that desk. I hope they set me up over here soon (or at all.)

I need to surf the internet or I go crazy.

I thought I was drugged today because I had a Diet Coke instead of coffee when I came in, and it just didn't do anything for me. Usually it at least has a magic-feather effect, but today, nothing. I had to stumble downstairs and buy a huge cup of black coffee, else fall asleep at my desk.

I'm so boring, I should marry a dentist.

(I'm so not funny, I should marry Jay Leno.)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:41 PM | shower me with attention

Oh god, Tavie also needs the sequel to The Talisman! Who will buy it for her? Discuss amongst yourselves, O Wealthy Admirers of Tavie!

God, I'm pathetic. My parents don't even read this blog. {g}

By the way, O Generous Admirers, the easiest way to find out if someone has already gotten Tavie a gift that you plan to give Tavie is to ask her sister, whom Tavie plans to enlist as a Holiday Spy.

I am so greedy and naughty. It's definitely the holiday season.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:30 AM | shower me with attention

I have enough money in my bank account to get myself a beautiful, beautiful iBook-- but I owe it all to credit card companies. This pains me so very much.

Oh, well.
Do you know that I'm the easiest person in the world to shop for, by the way? I like everything. Every gift is magic to me. The holiday season is coming up, and Tavie needs her a new wallet, a NYT crossword puzzle dictionary, a new address book, a Canadian flag Nokia faceplate, many Lush products, Prismacolor markers, more CDs than you would think it possible for a person to need, more DVDs than you'd think it possible for a person to need (Boogie Nights with the Michael Penn video being at the top of my list after Hedwig), and, oh, so many more things. Tavie is going to go update her Amazon wishlist right now. Winkety wink.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:28 AM | shower me with attention

You should see this. Nothing is visible outside the office window except for the faint outline of the strange statue (a griffin? a winged dog? a dragon?) topping the shorter building next to this one. Everything else is fog. We've been swallowed up. I imagine Wall Street is now like Atlantis. I hope Cree Summer doesn't play me in the movie.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:02 AM | shower me with attention

Sunday, November 18, 2001

My babies, my stressed-out genius babies, come sit on my knee and I will weave sonnets about your future exploits as conquerers of this great big world. I know your futures, and they are so dazzling as to make the gods weep. I love iambic pentameter, and I especially love having one beautiful young lass on each knee, for I am a dirty old turtle.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:15 PM | shower me with attention

Take the Affliction Test Today!

Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:00 AM | shower me with attention

He had such an unbelievably believable presence on the stage. But he was also some sort of ethereal creature-- tall, slender, graceful, passionate, heartbreaking. Visually stunning, emotionally wrenching: he was every single critic's cliche. Honestly like something from some other world. His Leontes was terrifying. (Me to Gina after a particularly poisionous Shakesperean outburst: "He's scaring me.") He spewed venom that was almost palpable. You had to flinch back from some of it. He thundered and murmured with equal skill. He made me cry. Twice. Hard. (Me to Gina after a particularly heart-wrenching Shakespearean outburst: "I hate it when the children cry.") Don't laugh, but he was like nothing so much as a silver, beardless unicorn: ageless and awe-inspiring and blinding and elegant and beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. (Okay, laugh then. You're just jealous 'cause you didn't get to see the show.)

Look for my upcoming review of "Scooby Doo: Stagefright!": Scooby's Knob, or: Me Love Shaggy. Coming soon.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:47 AM | shower me with attention