What Do You Make of It?

Last night, I had two dreams that I can remember...

...in one, I was at the Capitol, and there was a lot of construction going on along the side of the building I was on. But I made it through the mud and the fences to where all the Young Republicans were gathered to see John McCain walk past. They were all jockeying for position, and I thought, I just want to get a look at the guy. When I did, he looked way younger and totally different than he does on TV. And then I looked around and wondered if any of the Young Republicans were single...

...in the other, I met a Pakistani guy named Banini on a bus. At first, we had a disagreement over political correctness. But then he told me I had a nice smile and asked me out on a date. I accepted and we went to a Mexican restaurant. He wasn't really my type, but I was really into him...

From the Barack-icades

Whatever your political persuasion, please watch this. The Goofball (who also happens to be a diehard Les Mis fan) shared it with me, and I'm returning the favor.

While You're There, Comb Your Hair - Don't Forget Your Underwear

* Getting ready to shower on Saturday morning at Anna's, I realized that I'd forgotten to pack any underwear. I had to borrow from Anna - and for those of you who know the difference between our body types, you can understand that even her granniest panties were my thongs.

* I saw Les Mis for the fourth time this weekend, and it threw me back to my insane theater freak days. I confess - "Bring Him Home" still gives me shivers, "The Final Confession" still makes me cry, and the smell of the Fox Theatre still makes me happy. Javert was out-of-this-world good, and Eponine's "On My Own" was perfection.

* On the way to Les Mis, Eva looked over my outfit - a black cropped swing jacket over a sheer cream colored ruffled blouse and black pants - and said, "Wow, you look fabulous." She thought for a minute and said, "I had forgotten what I used to be like - I would've planned what to wear today. Instead, I just threw something in the bag." She sighed a little, and I thought...there are two sides to everything.

* Dillon has gotten so big! And talkative! He now calls me "Ashley," although the "l" is pretty subtle. I'm amazed how much he can already communicate - and how much of a little boy he's become. (All 25 pounds of him!)

* Anna decided to let Zeke and Eli run free in her yard on Saturday. Only, they didn't - as she had hoped - merely frolick in the backyard where she and Dad were weeding. Instead, they took off like bullet trains through the woods. The recovery effort took about an hour. It made me feel slightly better to know that it isn't just me.

* While we sat on the back porch this afternoon and enjoyed the crisp mountain air tinged with fall, Anna did her Sunday coupon clipping. "I need new shampoo," I said, thumbing through one of the sales papers. She tossed me an envelope stuffed full of coupons to see if she had one for shampoo. I sorted through the massive pile, chuckling at the fact that she cuts and sorts every coupon. Including one for Durex condoms and two for Depends.

Wardrobe Malfunctions

I had a date with The Professor tonight. It's a long story why we planned a nice dinner on a Wednesday, so I won't bore you with the details - especially when I can offer you the following:

1) I was wearing a geometric-print tunic top over black pants - feeling pretty sassy. At some point during the day though, I sat on the tunic and pulled too much on the silk fabric and ripped a three-inch hole in the seam. And where was that hole? Approximately - no, directly - exposing my lovehandle every time I sat.

2) To finish off my sassy look, I wore black patent leather slingbacks. After dinner, we were walking through downtown and my heel wedged into a hole in a sewer cover. As I stepped forward and realized my foot was caught, I sort of fell into The Professor and grunted. He said, "Wow. That was kind of awesome. I've never actually seen that happen to anyone." And then - "That noise you made was...something. Really low." And then he reenacted it.

So much for bringing sexy back.

Meet the Parents (or My Not-So-Great Evil Plan)

So. I'm dating this guy.

Let's call him The Professor.

We've been seeing each other for a few weeks - dinners, lunches, drinks after work. That sort of thing. And of course, if you've been reading this blog for any amount of time, you can guess that my family is all kinds of curious about this guy.

I've tried to maintain some boundaries, but you know, it gets exhausting.

So on Saturday night, when Mom, Dad and Anna decided to go out for Chinese, and Anna and Dad mocked me and suggested I call The Professor, one would think I would've brushed them off and readied myself for an endless supply of Mongolian beef.

But then...I had an idea. A brilliant, wonderful, awful idea. If I invited The Professor to dinner, I could get it out of the way - they could meet him, he could meet them, and like ripping off a band-aid, it would be quick and painless. They wouldn't have any opportunity to plan something horribly embarrassing - like an interrogation that would make the Spanish Inquisition look like a Q&A.

I didn't think about the fact that I might scare the poor professor out of his wits when I rang him up and asked him straight out if he wanted to join us. Nor did I think about how he might feel when I poo-pooed him when he said he hadn't shaved. Or scoffed at his insistence that he needed to jump in the shower. Or sent him a text telling him to keep it cas and throw on jeans and a t-shirt. Or gave him just about 20 minutes to be there.

What I did think about was the smug relief I felt when he arrived, well-groomed but not overly much. And when he offered everyone a nice handshake and a smile, I thought my evil plan had worked. And when Anna struck up a conversation with him about college football, and he made her laugh, I thought, I am a genius.

Ah, pride goeth before the fall.

In the parking lot, my mom invites The Professor back to our house. And that's where my plan - quickly but precisely executed thus far - began to show signs of failure.

I rode to the house with him and tried to brief him on what was most pertinent. Dad will tell you an embarrassing story about me. Oh, and he can't always hear, although he refuses to acknowledge it, so be prepared to repeat yourself. Anna's dogs are going to bark at you a lot - don't take it personally. Have I mentioned that we have a feral cat that no one can touch living in our house?

And then we arrived. And the dogs barked relentlessly, and The Professor seated himself stiffly on the edge of the recliner (whose sides have been torn to shreds by the feral cat). We realize that the other cat, Ranger, isn't at the door waiting for his dinner - probably because one of the dogs chased him into the woods earlier that day. Stay here, I tell The Professor. And I leave him in the den in the tattered recliner to watch the beginning of the football game with my dad, and I take a Maglite and go into the woods with Mom to search for Ranger.

A few minutes in, Mom suggests we get a can of food. I breeze through the door, and he half rises, "Can I help you?"

"Um, no. Thanks. But, um, Ranger is, like, an autistic cat? He's special. You know, and he's a little bit skittish around strangers." I dash out again with a can of Fancy Feast.

And we find the cat at long last - Anna and I climbing through the underbrush to get him and carry him in with his solemn little face peering at The Professor like, "Who's that guy?"

Anna heads home and there's the awkward moment where we're all hugging her and telling her we love her and he steps forward and I cringe, thinking, Don't do it! Don't hug her. And he extends a hand and says it's nice to meet her.

Back inside, I tour him through the house - which, of course, was in no shape to receive visitors. When I flipped on the light in my room, I saw two things: the bra hanging on the bedpost and the tampon on the nightstand.

At halftime of the football game, I ask if he wants to take a walk. I take a deep breath, "I'm sorry about...well, the craziness," I say. "Welcome to the looney bin!"

He kind of laughs and I wonder what he really wants to say.

"I wish I could tell you that it's not usually like this." I pause. "But...you know, it kind of is."

He left shortly after that, and I closed the door behind me, leaned against it, shut my eyes and fully admitted that, in light of the control I lost over a simple evening's circumstances, there's no career for me in world domination.

Killer News

The Killers' newest studio album Day & Age will be out November 25. Check out the new single "Human" at the band's official site.

I'm Going to Disney World!

Okay, so not really. I am, however, going to the mouse city - if not the mouse house.

The occasion is that we got called in to do a branding session. I've played a supporting role in four or five of these for the creative director. But he can't go to this one, because it's such short notice. He tells the account lead, "Call Ashley."

I'm going to Orlando because the creative director, the man I aspire to be, says I can handle running the show. He even called me this morning, Jedi Master-style, and said, "I'm really excited for you to have this opportunity."

I fly out Sunday night with one of the management team who's going with me. Today I was on a conference call with Atlanta and San Diego. And there was this moment when it was all coming together, when I felt the adrenaline pumping as I made my check list and started the project research and recruited two juniors to help me, that I thought about how awesome it felt.

I love my job in the most nerdy, geeked-out, I-will-talk-about-marketing-on-a-date way, and I'm getting this opportunity to travel to and lead a big client meeting, and for a day, all modesty aside, I thought, I'm kicking ass and taking names - and I'm going to Disney World.

An Appeal to The Kurt

As those of us long in blogdom know, The Kurt possesses one quality in measure beyond any of the rest of us: mysteriousness. Though some have tried to unravel the innate mysteriousness of The Kurt, the man (men? pods?) remains shrouded in uncertainties, suppositions and theories. If he were still alive, Robert Stack would totally be standing in a misty alley somewhere talking about the supernatural phenomenon of The Kurt. Unfortunately for us all, it is unlikely that Robert Stack and a host of anonymous tipsters could pinpoint the whereabouts, vocation, truth of The Kurt. He's got one foot ahead of Bigfoot in that regard.

But, I am not here to appeal to The Kurt to reveal himself (herself? itself?) to me. Rather, I am here to beseech The Kurt to impart the wisdom of his ways. Because that quality which The Kurt possesses ad infinitum...well, I have ad zeronium. Help me, The Kurt. You're my only hope.

I am dating again, wandering around with the other singletons and trying to match up well. The problem is, I say too much. There's very little air of mystery around me after, oh, say thirty minutes. As you dear readers know, I'm quite proning to airing every last stitch of dirty laundry without a second thought. And I'm thinking that the male varietal might be more captivated by an air of mystery than the airing of my every thought. I try to hold my tongue. I try to consider how one would be mysterious, but it simply isn't an affectation I've mastered.

So, The Kurt, please consider a brief tutorial on mysteriousness. I'm quite sure you could get Time Life to publish it as an addendum to its Mysteries of the Unexplained series. Your guidance could be my ticket out of singledom. Please teach me how to hoodwink the boys into thinking I'm spectacularly mysterious - before I reveal my every waking-sleeping-eating-dreaming-breathing thought.

Thank you for your consideration.

Historia de un Letrero

Please watch this short film. I promise you'll be glad you did - you'll even forget that it's Monday.

untitled

At the Chase Street light, landing on the hood
legs delicately arced out, wings folded upward
a dusky beige underside hints at the topside pattern

On Boulevard, trees arch its width filtering sunlight
pinpoints fall on her windsurfing thirty-five miles an hour
bracing against metal, balancing on those spindly legs

Next right, I wonder at her reluctance to take flight
her patience to stay with me, to hold her position
those dun wings, one eye meets mine

and she vaults away in a jerk
landing on the sign to my right
blood orange fanning open on "twins."

Thursday Miscellany

* When I'm in the shower in the morning debating what to wear, I imagine my clothing options just like Cher's computer program in Clueless, sliding tops and bottoms back and forth for consideration in my mind.

* My mom has new glasses. This may explain why she purchased prune-flavored yogurt for me instead of mixed berry.

* Rumor has it that Johnny Depp is signing on to play The Riddler in the next installment of Batman. Oh please, oh please say it's true.

* NY Fashion Week purportedly featured models that demonstrated that "thin isn't so in" - several size 2s and 4s worked the runway this year. So go ahead and eat that ice cream, ladies.

* I sort of love my hairdryer. Like, it's been with me through a lot. It comforts me to count on it every morning.

* I'm going on a date tomorrow. A third date, actually.

* In one month? NEW Keane AND Ray LaMontagne. Perfect Symmetry and Gossip in the Grain drop Oct. 14.

* I can't believe Kenley got through with that abhorrent dress last night on ProRun. Although, Blayne's was an atrocity. I'm with Heidi, "Ooooh, that's bad."

* The debut of Fringe has me jonesing to pick up the Dawson's Creek series finale and watch it will eating a whole cookie cake by myself. I heart Pacey.

Peek-a-boo: A Series

On the Fringe

In case you missed the hour-forty-five premiere of J.J. Abram's Fringe on Fox tonight, there's an encore presentation on Sunday night. I found it...pretty riveting. Definitely kept me guessing, intrigued, questioning. And let's not forget about the eye candy. Here are some reasons you should watch:

1) Josh Jackson = hot, and I have a particularity to him since I once had my picture taken with him (true story)
2) Crazy mad scientists
3) There's science that you're pretty sure isn't real but then...you kind of wonder
4) Nobody ever has the right amount of clearance to get all the information
5) Josh Jackson = hot
6) For the few men who read this blog, there's a scene featuring the lead female in a rather scanty black bra & panty ensemble
7) The Pattern (the sinister puzzle we'll be puzzling out along the way)
8) Because it's J.J. Abrams and you know people are going to be talking about it around the water cooler
9) Josh Jackson = hot
10) For the love of God, haven't I killed enough TV shows? Help me boost the ratings, people.

Please Explain...

...Michael Phelps' facial hair in this photo.

Commentary from The Mike

Tonight on the phone, catching up with Mike, he says:

"So I was on a date with this girl last night - really attractive girl. But she smelled funny....She was hot, so I thought maybe I could get past it. But then I thought, thirty years down the road, I could be saying, 'My wife smells funny.'"

When asked how old she is:

"21."

"21??? Mike!"

"Yeah, but I'm a guy. I can get away with it."

"That makes me want to vomit."

"But you know it's true."

Tube Bits

As pointed out by the illustrious Pen, the fall TV season is upon us. I'm notorious for killing shows by liking them (like...Women's Murder Club, Studio 60, Carnivale...), but I remain undeterred and reviewed the fall lineup for this year's possibilities.

I will continue, of course, watching ProRun through the fall, and I confess, I got hooked into the premiere of Top Design the other night. Any show that includes the quote, "Every gay has a dog. Get over it." is one I'm likely to watch. Plus, they're going to be doing an episode where they design for former ProRun contestants including Santino and ANDRE!!! I can hardly wait to find out what happened to Andre!

I'll be adding to my regular ProRun viewing as other shows begin premiering - like HOUSE which premiers onthe 16th, and I AM STOKED - and I've decided to give a few new(er) shows a watch or two and see if they feel like regulars.

Fringe premieres this Tuesday at 9 p.m. on Fox. From J.J. Abrams of Lost and Alias fame, this is another puzzling conspiracy theory. And it includes the bonus of Josh Jackson - Pacey's all grown up y'all. I think I would've liked Lost if I had gotten hooked into it at the right time, so I'm going to be a good girl and watch the first ep and ride the wave with everybody else.

The Big Bang Theory starts on the 22nd at 8 on CBS. It's in its second season, so maybe I won't kill it just be checking on the first few eps of season 2. I need a little comedy in my life, and while House is hilarious, it's darkly so, and I hope maybe this will infuse a little light-hearted geek-omedy into my life.

Chuck, also in its second season, starts again on the 29th at 8 p.m. on NBC. The marketing team has done a stellar job on this one. The promos have me intrigued enough to tune in for the premiere. The question is will it deliver enough to keep me tuned in.

Big Bang and Chuck are in a competing time slot, as are Project Runway and Do Not Disturb, a new Fox comedy that I considered. Plus, I'll be picking up Grey's and possibly E.R. for old time's sake when they return, so it's questionable how many shows I'll really have the time and inclination to watch.

So much boob tube. So little time.

Voicemail of the Day

From STGD:
Okay, I'm officially changing my story. Hot dude behind me - out of frustration - just put his hands up to his face like MacCaulay Caulkin in Home Alone. And then I realized he's missing his front tooth. So...scratch everything I said earlier.

The Mysterious Allure of a Good Read

On Friday afternoon, when I left the office for a blissful three day weekend, I had three things on my mind: 1) football game traffic 2) sleep and 3) a good book. I was meeting Mom at the optical shop to pick up some new glasses. God bless her, she said she wanted me there to advise on her choice of frames so that she didn't walk out looking like a granny. Afterward, she wanted to stop by the library just down the street and pick up another title by the mystery author she's been reading, so I followed along behind her.

The week before, when roaming St. Louis, Jenn and I stopped into Left Bank, an independent bookstore. There, among the young adult staff picks was The Mysterious Benedict Society. The cover was intriguing and so I read over the dust jacket. I wrote down the title and author on a slip of paper in my purse so I wouldn't forget it.

So standing in the A-town library taking in that familiar smell that hadn't washed over me in more than a decade, I started digging through my bag for that errant scrap of paper. I looked it up, tracked it down and took home the almost-500-page tome.

And I just finished it. It reminded me a bit of Harry Potter - the way unlikely friendships are rendered, the inherent battle between good and evil and the position that children are far more clever and reliable than what they seem. (Now, Potter fans, I'm in no way indicating that the boy wizard has been equaled, but without any more trips to Hogwarts, I have to read something...). The great thing about The Mysterious Benedict Society is that it's got that same quality of an unlikely reality rendered in the real world - it's not a mystical fairy land. It also plays into - as I've discussed before - that secret hope we all harbor that we are more than we seem.

While some of the books themes read benignly enough in a children's book, they're positively ominous to me. A machine called the Whisperer that can control your thoughts? The Waiting Room, whose indescribable horror is never fully described. And the thought that - in order to be happy - we could ignore the world's problems, let go of hope, and embrace ambivalence. It's enough to make you think.

I thought it was a "stand-alone" but I just found out the sequel came out in May, so I'll be seeking that out in short order. Plus, Susan - whose book judgment I trust implicitly, since she also desperately loves Potter and hearts a good trashy romance - has gone so head over heels for Twilight that I'm going to pick it up, too - nothing like a good teenage girl falls in love with a vampire story to warm your heart.

Receptive: Pitcher Plant

Jubilance: Water Dance

Reflection: Angels and Lilies Among Glass

Accidental Serenity, Japanese Gardens