Tavie blogs i like:
amy
dave foley
mark mckinney
e.mail
archive
andrew
anne marie
barb carr
barb
beth
boing boing
buddy cole
camille
caroline
cartoon brew
craig northey
crissy/alternate link
dave
disney blog
francis
polly mcaffable
gina
goose
jamie
james kochalka
Jersey City DFA
jordan
jim hill
kirsten
kithblog
liz
matt k/word du jour
mike t
passive agressive notes
patton oswalt
post secret
rule the web
rynn
sarah
sarah c
serra
soft communication
tea rose
terry
toothpaste for dinner
tilly
My Flickr account
Subscribe in a reader
my 'currently-reading' shelf:
i want:
wish list
i've read:
goodreads list
Friday, November 14, 2003
I wish I was Tallulah Bankhead.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:15 PM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:15 PM | shower me with attention
I can't believe I was allowed to drink acid dye as a kid. With like nineteen cups of sugar per pitcher.
What's wrong with parents?
By the way, if you find exotic colours of unsweetened Kool-Aid packets in your local supermarket and send them to me, I will send you valuable handmade prizes...
Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:35 AM | shower me with attention
What's wrong with parents?
By the way, if you find exotic colours of unsweetened Kool-Aid packets in your local supermarket and send them to me, I will send you valuable handmade prizes...
Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:35 AM | shower me with attention
My baby brother is turning 20 on Sunday. I dasn't believe it. He's grown into the sort of young man you can leave with your doddering old father for hours at a time.
Today I learned that I don't have to show up to music class for the rest of the semester. She's dropping the lowest test score, and said that if we've done well on the first three tests, we don't have to take the final at all. I got a grade of A+ (imagine the scene in A Christmas Story where Ralphie gets so many A plusses that the teacher has to write them on the walls all around the classroom... A plus...plus...plus...plus....) on all three tests, and handed in the one assignment she had us do, so I'm done with that, consarnit.
So how 'bout that crazy weather we've been having? Last night going outside was like stepping into the London of Jack the Ripper, and earlier was a blustery day to end all blustery days. What's tomorrow, hail of frogs?
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:11 AM | shower me with attention
Today I learned that I don't have to show up to music class for the rest of the semester. She's dropping the lowest test score, and said that if we've done well on the first three tests, we don't have to take the final at all. I got a grade of A+ (imagine the scene in A Christmas Story where Ralphie gets so many A plusses that the teacher has to write them on the walls all around the classroom... A plus...plus...plus...plus....) on all three tests, and handed in the one assignment she had us do, so I'm done with that, consarnit.
So how 'bout that crazy weather we've been having? Last night going outside was like stepping into the London of Jack the Ripper, and earlier was a blustery day to end all blustery days. What's tomorrow, hail of frogs?
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:11 AM | shower me with attention
Thursday, November 13, 2003
My left hand is disgusting. Kit and I dyed some yarn the other night with Kool-Aid and I used my left hand to squish the first batch into the orange Kool-Aid. The colour has caked into the cracks of my fingernails, outlining them in bright orange. It looks like I've been eating a lot of Cheez Doodles. No amount of scrubbing will make the colour disappear.
I am a poor, dirty, penniless, wind-blown, disheveled, barefoot, smudge-faced mess. (Except for the last two.)
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:26 PM | shower me with attention
I am a poor, dirty, penniless, wind-blown, disheveled, barefoot, smudge-faced mess. (Except for the last two.)
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:26 PM | shower me with attention
In an uncharacteristic move, I went to Mint Manor on Tuesday night after class because it was Kitana's last night with us, and I have no school on Wednesdays. I do, however, have school on Thursdays. But I decided to take the plunge and stay Wednesday night too, get up on Thursday and take the bus to the PATH station. This is something that Stephanie has been doing every day, and I figured I should learn how to do it too, seeing as I really can't afford the $15 cab fares.
I woke up to howling winds around noon. The winds were so loud, they actually woke me up. I thought perhaps the world was ending, or I was in the Land of Oz's version of public transportation, but it was just really super windy out.
I fumbled with the coffee, got half a cup down, and then saw what time it was; according to the bus schedule, I had ten minutes until it would arrive. That's when I broke the top to the cookie jar. I was looking for a to-go mug in the cupboard, and the lid of the Christmas cookie jar, part of the Mint Manor Christmas Tradition, came tumbling down and smashed on the ground. I am the clumsiest of oafs. I may have ruined Mint Manor Christmas permanently.
But I made it to the bus stop in ample time.
Yeah, really ample time. I stood in the howling winds for an hour before the bus, which was scheduled to arrive every half hours, arrived. The people who print up those schedules are the filthiest sort of dirty liars. I hate them all a whole lot.
I missed my anthro class, but I don't care. At least I'm at school now, where it's warm.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:09 PM | shower me with attention
I woke up to howling winds around noon. The winds were so loud, they actually woke me up. I thought perhaps the world was ending, or I was in the Land of Oz's version of public transportation, but it was just really super windy out.
I fumbled with the coffee, got half a cup down, and then saw what time it was; according to the bus schedule, I had ten minutes until it would arrive. That's when I broke the top to the cookie jar. I was looking for a to-go mug in the cupboard, and the lid of the Christmas cookie jar, part of the Mint Manor Christmas Tradition, came tumbling down and smashed on the ground. I am the clumsiest of oafs. I may have ruined Mint Manor Christmas permanently.
But I made it to the bus stop in ample time.
Yeah, really ample time. I stood in the howling winds for an hour before the bus, which was scheduled to arrive every half hours, arrived. The people who print up those schedules are the filthiest sort of dirty liars. I hate them all a whole lot.
I missed my anthro class, but I don't care. At least I'm at school now, where it's warm.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:09 PM | shower me with attention
Wednesday, November 12, 2003
Wealth of great time-wastin' pleasure from Boing Boing lately.
This page of old breakfast cereals based on various cartoons and toys brought back some great memories. I can still sing the Nintendo Cereal jingle (Nintendo-- it's for breakfast now! Nintendo-- it's a cereal-- WOW!) and the Barbie Cereal jingle (Hurry up, don't be late, got a breakfast date... with Barbie!) But my favourite obscure cereal memory is on this page: scroll down to the Swedish Chef cereal: Post's Croonchy Stars. It had, hands-down, the most entertaining box I've ever seen.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:05 PM | shower me with attention
This page of old breakfast cereals based on various cartoons and toys brought back some great memories. I can still sing the Nintendo Cereal jingle (Nintendo-- it's for breakfast now! Nintendo-- it's a cereal-- WOW!) and the Barbie Cereal jingle (Hurry up, don't be late, got a breakfast date... with Barbie!) But my favourite obscure cereal memory is on this page: scroll down to the Swedish Chef cereal: Post's Croonchy Stars. It had, hands-down, the most entertaining box I've ever seen.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:05 PM | shower me with attention
Tuesday, November 11, 2003
Stephanie sent me the following:
Mom Finds Out About Blog
Hahahahahaha!
(Go away, mom.)
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:07 PM | shower me with attention
Mom Finds Out About Blog
Hahahahahaha!
(Go away, mom.)
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:07 PM | shower me with attention
Is it weird that every time The American President is on, I find myself watching the whole thing?
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:11 AM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:11 AM | shower me with attention
Monday, November 10, 2003
Today I suffered through the most boring art class of my entire life. First we had to take an easy test. Then we had to sit there for two hours straight without a break while he slooooooooowly commented on some people's homework, one at a time, detail by detail, not involving or engaging any of us. And we had to pretend like we were listening and interested. Without my crossword it was slow, painful torture.
But when I got home, my Guardian Angel had emailed me her NYTimes Premium Crossword password, and I printed this week's out. Thank you, Jebus, my suffering is at an end.
Now I have to memorize about fifteen classical and romantic pieces of music, all with names like "Symphony No. 40 in G Minor", or else all composed by people named Schu-something. And all with very similar dates. 1787 (Eine Klein Nacht Musik, NOT written by Sondheim). 1798 (Beethoven's String Quartet in C Minor). 1788 (Mozart's Symphony No. 40 in G Minor). 1791. (Haydn's Surprise Symphony in G Major.)
At least one of them is Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, first movement, 1808, allegro con brio. But I bet you a million dollars that one won't even be on the test.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:45 PM | shower me with attention
But when I got home, my Guardian Angel had emailed me her NYTimes Premium Crossword password, and I printed this week's out. Thank you, Jebus, my suffering is at an end.
Now I have to memorize about fifteen classical and romantic pieces of music, all with names like "Symphony No. 40 in G Minor", or else all composed by people named Schu-something. And all with very similar dates. 1787 (Eine Klein Nacht Musik, NOT written by Sondheim). 1798 (Beethoven's String Quartet in C Minor). 1788 (Mozart's Symphony No. 40 in G Minor). 1791. (Haydn's Surprise Symphony in G Major.)
At least one of them is Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, first movement, 1808, allegro con brio. But I bet you a million dollars that one won't even be on the test.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:45 PM | shower me with attention
From Boing Boing: Create your own portrait. Awesome. (The one linked is mine, and pretty damn close. The ears are off because I can't imagine my own ears.)
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:49 PM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:49 PM | shower me with attention
Does anyone have a copy of this week's Sunday Times magazine? Or just the crossword puzzle? I didn't get it this week and that makes me very sad.
Even a scan would do...
I'll go mad if I have to sit through my classes without it.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:49 AM | shower me with attention
Even a scan would do...
I'll go mad if I have to sit through my classes without it.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:49 AM | shower me with attention
I'm so confused...
I was wandering around the apartment, sleepy but unable to let myself go to bed without finding something in this dusty library of insanity that I am remotely interested in reading. I was picking up and dropping books left and right... The Twenty-One Balloons, The Naked Civil Servant, Zen in the Art of Archery, Orlando; Robertson Davies, D.H. Lawrence, John Irving, Stephen Fry; everything looked interesting, and then I started to read it and my eyes glazed over.
Because, duh, dummy, you're so tired you can't keep your eyes open. (It's the fear of going to sleep again, which is the reason I need a book in the first place, so the last thing going through my head before I drop off can be fiction. What I really need is a shrink.)
Irony (?): after sitting dumbly on a folding chair in front of a bookshelf, tossing aside paperback after paper back, I finally stood up in despair (You've lost the ability to read for pleasure. It's over for good.) and staggered off towards bed. On my way I bumped my hip on that little triangular bookshelf next to the piano. Almost caused an avalanche. Didn't. But that's how I managed to notice that fucking book that I've been going mad looking for all week. Just sitting there on top. I probably put it there absent mindedly a week ago and then had a complete memory wipe and spent the rest of the week tearing the apartment apart looking for it? And it was there all the time?
Which brings me to the bit that's frightening me:
These memory lapses, this inability to concentrate, this fear to sleep, this constant, daily misplacement of things:
Why is my brain rotting? Am I sick? What's wrong with me? Do I need a doctor? Do I have a disease? Are these symptoms of something? Help me?
I was not always like this.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:37 AM | shower me with attention
I was wandering around the apartment, sleepy but unable to let myself go to bed without finding something in this dusty library of insanity that I am remotely interested in reading. I was picking up and dropping books left and right... The Twenty-One Balloons, The Naked Civil Servant, Zen in the Art of Archery, Orlando; Robertson Davies, D.H. Lawrence, John Irving, Stephen Fry; everything looked interesting, and then I started to read it and my eyes glazed over.
Because, duh, dummy, you're so tired you can't keep your eyes open. (It's the fear of going to sleep again, which is the reason I need a book in the first place, so the last thing going through my head before I drop off can be fiction. What I really need is a shrink.)
Irony (?): after sitting dumbly on a folding chair in front of a bookshelf, tossing aside paperback after paper back, I finally stood up in despair (You've lost the ability to read for pleasure. It's over for good.) and staggered off towards bed. On my way I bumped my hip on that little triangular bookshelf next to the piano. Almost caused an avalanche. Didn't. But that's how I managed to notice that fucking book that I've been going mad looking for all week. Just sitting there on top. I probably put it there absent mindedly a week ago and then had a complete memory wipe and spent the rest of the week tearing the apartment apart looking for it? And it was there all the time?
Which brings me to the bit that's frightening me:
These memory lapses, this inability to concentrate, this fear to sleep, this constant, daily misplacement of things:
Why is my brain rotting? Am I sick? What's wrong with me? Do I need a doctor? Do I have a disease? Are these symptoms of something? Help me?
I was not always like this.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:37 AM | shower me with attention
Nothing can ruin my Christmas spirit. Despite the overrated window displays and the sickening crush of humanity, the obliteration of one-sixth of my small family, the long absence of Rumplemeyer's and the fact that I would break Santa's knee and he's not the real Santa anyway at Macy's (he sits on a THRONE OF LIES!), nothing can dampen my Christmas cheer.
Because I am Tavie and it is my job. I think I was really born an elf but raised human, like the inverse of Will Ferrell in that movie. I am the buyer and erector of Christmas trees, the sender of cards (maybe not this year, I'm very broke, but I still love you), the singer of carols, the planner of walking tours, the disappointed but still hopeful fan of nighttime strolls through the twinkly, reindeer-laced Bronx Zoo, the maker of the best real hot chocolate, the enforcer of the watching of the same Christmas specials over and over, the obsessive adherer to Tradition, the believer-in of Christmas miracles, and the knitter of fuzzy slippers. I'm a self-appointed angel. I'm Clarence on caffeine. I'm the anti-Grinch.
It's only November though, people-- you have to pace yourself until after the Macy's Parade. Honest. Get your stuff together but don't go crazy yet. Stay by me and it will be okay. You can start to get a little excited. I'll let you know when. Then you can bake cookies with me and we'll make green-and-red construction paper chains, you and me.
"Smiling is my FAVOURITE!"
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:18 AM | shower me with attention
Because I am Tavie and it is my job. I think I was really born an elf but raised human, like the inverse of Will Ferrell in that movie. I am the buyer and erector of Christmas trees, the sender of cards (maybe not this year, I'm very broke, but I still love you), the singer of carols, the planner of walking tours, the disappointed but still hopeful fan of nighttime strolls through the twinkly, reindeer-laced Bronx Zoo, the maker of the best real hot chocolate, the enforcer of the watching of the same Christmas specials over and over, the obsessive adherer to Tradition, the believer-in of Christmas miracles, and the knitter of fuzzy slippers. I'm a self-appointed angel. I'm Clarence on caffeine. I'm the anti-Grinch.
It's only November though, people-- you have to pace yourself until after the Macy's Parade. Honest. Get your stuff together but don't go crazy yet. Stay by me and it will be okay. You can start to get a little excited. I'll let you know when. Then you can bake cookies with me and we'll make green-and-red construction paper chains, you and me.
"Smiling is my FAVOURITE!"
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:18 AM | shower me with attention
Sunday, November 09, 2003
There are a lot of great things in this world that I really, really want that I don't get to have. And here are two of them.
(Paul Rudd, and a puppy.)
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:49 AM | shower me with attention
(Paul Rudd, and a puppy.)
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:49 AM | shower me with attention
Wuh? Terry is trying to decide who to give his old iPod to, I'm on the list... and yet he's leaning towards his mother?
Moms don't like iPods-- TAVIES like iPods!
I'm just kidding, that'd make a great gift for her. Just as long as I'm the first alternate choice.
Hm. I gotta go knit something.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:41 AM | shower me with attention
Moms don't like iPods-- TAVIES like iPods!
I'm just kidding, that'd make a great gift for her. Just as long as I'm the first alternate choice.
Hm. I gotta go knit something.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:41 AM | shower me with attention
Wow, apparently if you don't blog about the eclipse, it means you didn't watch it.
(I saw it, you retard. It was awesome. Doofus brain.)
Is this the new reality? If you don't blog it, it didn't happen?
Because my life is about so much more than dreams about James Marsters.
Okay, my life has slightly more in it than dreams about Marsters.
Okay, once I did something that didn't involve a dream about Marsters.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:15 AM | shower me with attention
(I saw it, you retard. It was awesome. Doofus brain.)
Is this the new reality? If you don't blog it, it didn't happen?
Because my life is about so much more than dreams about James Marsters.
Okay, my life has slightly more in it than dreams about Marsters.
Okay, once I did something that didn't involve a dream about Marsters.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:15 AM | shower me with attention
