This video has been making me laugh for days now. Every time I think about it, I start laughing. I was falling asleep the other night, and this video popped into my head and I started laughing so loud I woke Mike up. What is it, you ask? It’s a tourism video for my little corner of the San Fernando Valley. This whole thing was filmed within blocks of my apartment. At one point, I think you can even see my building. Canoga Park – Come visit! (But get your tetanus shot first.)
Dear Jackhole
Dear Jackhole in the douchey Ed Hardy t-shirt,
I realize that we’re all guilty of judging people at first glance. I mean, I just decided you were a doucheturd based on the brand of your t-shirt. Except that’s not really why. The real reason is because you chose to make a snarky comment to your homely girlfriend about me and the little dog in my arms when you could see that I was clearly within earshot.
A few things about that:
1) The dog is not mine. I’m merely dogsitting.
2) The dog is wearing a sweater because without it he shivers in the cold. Which it was, when we left the house that morning. It was very, very cold. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t like to watch little dogs shiver in the cold. I’d much rather see them wearing a sweater.
3) I’m not carrying the dog because it’s some kind of pathetic baby stand-in, as you implied, although that was the reason I once carried my dachshund in a sling. But I only did that once, and only in the privacy of my own home, so suck it. I’m carrying the dog out of fear that he’ll lift his leg on one of the artisan booths, not only disrespecting said artisans, but spoiling their lovingly hand-crafted creations. I’m trying to be nice, dickwad, unlike you. You with your loud, rude, judgy comments about a perfectly nice girl carrying a perfectly nice dog who happens to be wearing a sweater out of necessity.
But whatever. I mean, if it makes you feel good about yourself to say snarky things about a perfect stranger WHILE THEY ARE STANDING RIGHT NEXT TO YOU, go right ahead. You obviously need the self-esteem boost more than I do.
Yours truly,
The girl carrying the little dog wearing a sweater.
P.S. I hope your penis shrivels up and falls off in your sleep.
Not So Friendly
Waiting patiently for walkies
It’s dark out. Not late, but dark. Some of the street lamps are out and I feel uneasy as I head down the block, but the dogs need to do their business and they are happy as they sniff about. I shuffle after them in second-hand sweatpants, wool hiking socks, crocs, and one of my husband’s dog hair infused fleeces. I haven’t brushed or even washed my hair in days. I push my glasses back up my nose and stare out at empty space while the dogs snuffle something in the grass. There is a man walking down the sidewalk from the other direction. He is carrying a paper plate of food. It looks like rice and something else. I think, maybe the dogs will poop here and then we can go home, up the stairs, curl up on the sofa with a bowl of salted caramel ice cream, a plate of cheese and crackers, and the latest episode of ‘Grey’s Anatomy’. I just want to bury my head in the sand.
There are quick movements at the end of the leashes and I realize the dogs are eating something. The man with the plate of food stops in front of us and says something about the dogs eating and as I try to reel them in, away from whatever offal it is they are stuffing down their doggy throats I say, “Yeah, I know. It’s disgusting. I just hope it’s not poop.” I gain control of them, manage to pull them away from their prize. The man laughs and says, “No, no. I asked if they are allowed to eat people food.” He holds out his plate of rice and what looks like chicken.
He is nice looking. Broad shouldered, blond, mid-thirties. He smiles but the smile is not sincere. It is the smile of a single man who sees a girl walking alone and thinks she might be easy. There is a lilt in his voice I do not like. It is patronizing and it makes my hackles go up. I am not alone. Valentine lunges at the man’s legs, barking, growling, teeth bared. He takes a step away and I let her leash go long.
“Nope. They don’t eat people food. In fact, they aren’t very friendly.” I practically have to yell over the cacophony of barking, because now the wiener dog is barking too, the force of his voice lifting his feet off the pavement in little wiener dog hops.
The man smiles. “What about you?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Are you friendly?”
I pause for a moment. Really? I’m dressed like a homeless lady and my dogs are trying to kill you. How desperate does a guy have to be? “Not so much.”
Two days later I’m walking the dogs again, this time on the other side of the street. Someone calls out to me. “Hey neighbor! How are you!” I look up at the man addressing me. My mind is blank. He smiles and points to himself. “I’m Roger. We met the other night. I wanted to feed your dogs.”
It all comes back to me. “Oh. Right.”
“What are you up to? Want to hang out?”
“Not even a little.”
“Alright. I get the hint.” He looks angry when he walks away. What else was I supposed to say?
This is my first post for Just Write, an exercise in writing begun by Heather of the EO. Want to join?
A Tiny Mummy Finds A Home
Remember when I asked Hawk to mail me the tiny mummy he found? Well, he sent it all right. And then I kept it for six months while I searched for an appropriate display for it. But see, nothing was good enough. And then, this weekend, I suddenly remembered this little – I don’t even know what you’d call it – thing that I have had sitting in my craft closet with all my craft stuff for literally over five years. It’s a little thing that I bought with Michael either right before we were married or right after, and I dragged it to New York and back because I knew one day I’d figure out a project for it. Turns out it was totally meant for the tiny lizard mummy. Like, the universe sent it to me because it knew that one day I’d have a tiny mummy that would need a home. Here’s what the little – we’ll call it a display case – looked like before I started messing with it.
That shiz needs to be painted, yo. It’s awfully boring looking.
But first, we must prime.
Much better, yes? Once I painted it and gave it a coat of urethane, I used a small wad of museum wax to affix a silica packet inside the display area, to help keep the little lizard nice and dry. (Thanks to my brother Ty for that trick.) But what will I use as a backing for the lizard? I know! How bout a wrinkly old piece of paper?
I wadded up a scrap of paper and let it soak in coffee for about thirty minutes.
Then I set it out to dry. When it was completely dry, I cut it to fit the inside of my tiny display case. I didn’t need to glue it down – it was a perfect fit. Next, I decorated the corners with some little dried flowers, including a few from my wedding bouquet. Those were glued down so they wouldn’t shift over time. Last, I placed my mummy inside.
I used a drop of Elmer’s Glue-All under his chin to fix him securely to his forever home.
Voila! The smallest lizard mummy in the world (really – I think he’s broken a record) lives in a place of honor in our family room, amongst our collection of family photos.
Sorry for the low quality photo. It’s hard to take a picture like this without a flash, but the flash bounces off the glass and ruins things, so… you know. Anyway, now I just need to find a home for my mouse skeleton and my baby bird skeleton. Oh! And I still have to make natron so I can mummify the dead snake in my freezer. That one will make a lovely centerpiece for the coffee table, yes?
*This post is brought to you by Hawk, who provided the tiny mummy. And Ty, who’s gifted me with my love of all things dead, including the mouse skeleton, the dead snake, and my wonderful family of mummified mice – who have not been featured here because the pictures do not do them justice. If you ever come over, I’ll be sure to show them to you. I love to point them out when giving guests the tour of our apartment. “Here’s the office, here’s the bedroom, and here’s my mummified mouse family!”
You’re Welcome
Do you remember when I was shot that zombie movie in 2009? Turns out it won all kinds of awards on the festival circuit, and you guys, I watched it right before we left for Bolivia and it is fantastic. It was my last acting gig and I’m glad it was because it was a wonderful experience. To finally see it, see the gem that came out of everyone’s hard work and talent, it turns me all gushy inside. It’s more than just a zombie movie. It’s a movie about hope, artistry, faith, perseverance, and hard work. And zombies.
So click HERE and watch it! It’s 12 1/2 minutes and you’ll get to see me fight zombies. You will be knocked over by the awesomeness. Zombies!
Chase Thompson, a film by Chase Thompson (2010) from Valiant Pictures on Vimeo.
In Case You Didn’t Get Enough Malted Eggs Yesterday
You guys! It’s a Sylvanian Easter!
You didn’t think I’d stop with Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, did you? Oh hells no! Easter’s gotta re-pre-sent.
Little Prissy Thistlethorne is getting ready for the Easter garden party while baby Heather plays pretend with her toy bunny and pram.
Uncle Sweetwater plays the Easter Bunny hiding eggs inside and out, while Mama and Papa Thistlethorne stroll like young lovers on a cool spring day.
Cousin Charlie is picking apples, Aunty Sweetwater and Mrs. Babblebrook have found some Easter eggs, and Mr. Babblebrook tends the carrot garden.
The ladies all look so nice in their Easter bonnets that little Chester felt left out. “But Mama,” he cried, “I want to wear an Easter bonnet too!” And so he did.
Isn’t he darling pushing his little pink wheel barrow full of Easter treasures?
Happy Easter to all, and to all, a Good Night.
Tell me…
I’m in a dry spell. Too busy to spill my thoughts on the page, too distracted, too anxious. I’m taking my fish oil, trying to exercise, feeling frustrated and fat and exhausted. So instead I’ll share someone else’s thoughts – a poem that helps me remember to breathe, stop, take a moment, relax. I need that right now.
The Summer Day
By Mary Oliver
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
He Interrupts
Photo taken with my Verizon Wireless CrackBerry
He interrupts my yoga practice for a belly rub.
Mine
The last spring we spent in New York I was enamored with the flowers. Which I suppose is to be expected after spending endless months in a snow-buried city. In May and June I’d walk the length of Jackie Robinson Park, or take the dogs off-leash to roam in Saint Nicholas Park, and I’d take photograph after photograph of all the beautiful flowers. There aren’t any parks in the valley anything like Saint Nicholas or Jackie Robinson, at least not that we’ve found, so we’re making something on our own.
It’s not much, but it’s mine. All mine! (Erm, ours.)
Mike and I spent Saturday at the garden center and we picked up some prizes, we did! Pansies, daisies, chrysanthemums, a balcony box! This corner of the balcony will be where we put a table and chairs — whenever we acquire a set. We’ll eat dinner here in the evenings, watching the sun set behind the palm trees. We’ll sip our coffee here in the morning, some days I’ll even work out here. I am so happy to have a little bit of outdoor space all to ourselves.
This is the first time we’ve had flowering plants since St. Andrews, Hollywood. I couldn’t possibly be happier.
We picked up a seed bell, to see what kind of bird traffic we get. What we really want is a beautiful bird feeder that we can refill regularly, but before we drop fifty bucks on a feeder and seed, we want to make sure there will be takers. It’s been three days and so far nuthin’ but flies. Keep your fingers crossed.
In New York Mike called these weeds. Turns out they’re a chrysanthemum variety, Mike.
I have a feeling these English Daisies are going to take over the balcony box.
I can’t remember what these little flowers are, but they sure are pretty. And I’m hoping they will attract hummingbirds. Fingers crossed!
