Awesome Internet Friend Probation

The Awesome Internet De-Friendings have begun! The following have been placed on Awesome Internet Friend Probation until November 5th, 2008:

Jim Buracchio- Facebook. Crime: Posting a McCain/Palin button on my page.

Michele (formerly) Metcalf- MySpace. Crime: Linking to a CafePress anti-Obama page, posting political nonsense in the Bulletin.

Aaron Goins Lewis- MySpace. Crime: Posting political boobies in the bulletin which, while hilarious, earns him an AIFP.

Shawn Weiske- MySpace. Crime: Prop 8 Propaganda on the bulletin. Though our views are spot on and I agree wholeheartedly, I've got to stick to my guns. Vote NO on Prop 8. AIFP, Mr. Weiske. Batti batti indeed.

Aubrey Guest- MySpace. Crime: Bulletin barrage. I wish people and politics could get along like a fine tea and crumpet...or like pumpkin pie and whipped cream. Damn, I'm hungry now. However, the First Amendement goes both ways. AIFP.

Matthew Wheeler- Myspace. Crime: Prop 8 Propaganda. I agree with you good sir, NO on Prop 8. But a girl must stand by what she said. AIFP 'til Nov. 5th, 2008. Sadly, I won't be in the area to serve as a real-life effectual activist instead of an armchair activist, but I love you the more for getting out there and doing more than hollering on bulletins. SPREAD THE WORD SWEET PEA, and I'll do the same from Orange County! AIFP.

AS A REMINDER:

(posted in the Bulletin on Friday, October 24, 2008)

Dearest friends, family, and acquaintances:

I get it. This election is important. You want to share your views, let the world know what you think and feel and believe is good and right in the world.

But guess what? I DON'T NEED TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK.

Should you feel the need to divulge your economic brilliance and/or military stratagem then by all means blog about it, send a personalized e-mail, make a poster, wear a t-shirt, write a speech and stand on the corner of Fairfax and Santa Monica with the rest of the Nouveau-Politico Mercenaries.

Constantly seeing poorly written, anti-Obama slander and "OMG Did You Hear What Palin Said NOW?" diatribes cluttering up my bulletin board not only makes it hard to weed out the good surveys from the bad, but moreso dulls the senses to the campaigns of these two men who may or may not take the steps needed towards changing our current national state. It's bad enough one can't drive to the grocery store without being harangued by ill-informed lobbyists vaulting their favorite candidate in your face, but now the trivial silliness of MySpace is no longer safe.

Here's the deal:

If I want political updates, I will most likely not be turning to MySpace.

If I want to research a candidate, I will most likely not be turning to MySpace.

If I want to become informed on the bills being passed and the possible effects they will have on my way of life and pursuit of happiness, I most definitely WILL NOT be turning to MySpace.

If I want to read the gripes and concerns of imagined 50yr old war veterans scribing open letters to men who will never read them all for the sake of some naive 18+ year old out there to read, I will not be turning to MySpace.

In short: These things have no purpose in the bulletins. They can sit comfortably in your blog, fair enough. Send a bulletin out saying, "OH HAI GUYZ. I wrote a blog. LOLZ. Check it out <3">

But please, keep it out of the bulletin board. It has come to the point that the next person to post a bit of political nonsense will most likely be defriended until Election Day has come and gone. Then we can all be awesome internet friends once again and argue over who was right and who was wrong.

Much love,

Me.

Work Product, Example No. 16

This has happened to me TWICE, kiddywinks. That damn Jedi Academy sticker is a homing beacon for NerdCops. Whatever, atleast on Wednesday he let me off with a warning. Also, that was the highlight of my Wednesday...aside from getting 'Nantes' figured out on Tobias Funkulele Jr., Jr. Mais oui.

IN OTHER NEWS:

Finally gave TV On The Radio's Dear Science a good ol' listen-loo. Verdict: AWESOME. Starting strong with "Halfway Home" it quickly descends into familiar TVOTR ground before tugging on the heart strings midway with "Family Tree"; a song so beautifully constructed and boasting lyrics any aspiring songster aches to dream up ("And in the shadow of the gallows of your family tree/There's a hundred hearts soar free/Pumping blood to the roots of evil to keep it young," Glorious). The album winds it all up with what is the most awesomely disturbing love song ever, "Lover's Day," because, c'mon, who doesn't sing about cannibalizing the corpse of their lover after breaking their back? Oh, and it's damn catchy, too.

Full of vivid imagery, hummable melodies and crunchily pleasant production, Dear Science hooks you from the start and keeps delivering the goodies in a way that would make any Escape to Cookie Mountain loving, Williamsburg cycling, Huffington Post reading audiophile smile a facetious smile and maybe, just maaybe, start tapping their foot in lieu of an outright dance of joy.

Work Product, Example No. 15

(linked for bigness...and AWESOMENESS)

The First Annual Foofy Wine Party was, I should say, a whopping success. Jackson got half naked, Graham, Jessie, Andrew and Jackson squared off in Franzia Pong, I nursed a bottle of Possman's Apfelwein, Amy was absolutely blasted, and by the end of the night everyone went home happily besotten.

At work on Sunday I was playing my uke in the booth when this guy wandered up to me and started an odd little conversation:

"You play uke?" he asked, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. I glanced down at the finely crafted instrument in my hands before answering.
"Yes."
"Excellent," he responded, squinting his eyes at Tobias Funkulele, Jr. imploringly. "You gonna play me sommat?"
"Sure," I shrugged, launching into the recently learned 'Elephant Gun'. The stranger began tapping his foot in time, deeply inhaling his Camel and exhaling with a sigh. I finished the riff after a few repeats and stared back at him from my plastic chair.
"You from Washington?" he asked, opening his eyes and studying my features.
"No sir," I responded.
"You sure? You look like you're from Washington," he coughed a little.
"Nope, born in England, raised in California," I grinned, half wanting him to wander off, and half wanting to buy him a coffee and learn exactly why I looked like I came from Washington.
"Welp," he glanced to the left and nodded to someone I couldn't see, "You sure do look like a Washingtonian...mebbe even a Seattle-ite,"
"I...thank you?"
"Demm right it's a 'thank you!" He stuck out a calloused hand, fingernails stained with what looked like dirt and oil. "'Name's Ryan."
"Britta," I shook his hand firmly.
"Nice meetin' ya." And then he wandered off as quickly as he'd arrived.

The OC Marketplace is a fascinating study of the human race.

Work Product, Example No. 14

For serious, those words fell from my mouth as the cars in front of me failed to move FORWARDS when the light turned green in Seal Beach. Immediately hands clasped over my intranetted gob and shocked washed across my face.

I spend entirely too much time on the internet.

Work Product, Example No. 13

(linked for bigness and AWESOMENESS.)

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

"These are the people in my crazy head, in my crazy head, in my cra-zee head!"

For those days when I just don't have the creative spark to do a long strand of "teh phunny", I now give you a series of 'people I know', or atleast 'the entertaining people I know who will possibly show up in a strand at some point so it's nice to have a template reference of what they look like' MSPaint.

Took a mile walk, in my heels, during my lunch today and now I can barely stand. It's like some sick annual tradition with me. "Oh, it's October? TIME TO INJURE MY FEET!"

2002: Tripping up the GORRAM Rohan stairs resulting in a sprained tendon, three days missed work, crutches, bloodwork (for some unknown reason) and an awesome wrap on my foot.

2003: Running the Back Bay Trail only to step into a GORRAM hidden sinkhole resulting in a painful 2 mile hobble back to the compound.

2004: Getting wasted at the Westin Bonaventure and slipping in a puddle on the GORRAM cement floor in my 3.5 inch heels resulting in a wickedly twisted ankle and fun drive back to Newport Beach the next morning.

2005: Hiking up a GORRAM GERMAN MOUNTAIN in new boots with Nikki resulting in horribly blistered, bruised and bleeding feet worthy of a Grimm stepsister.

2006: Running a GORRAM desert trail in shoes accustomed to paved city streets and riverways resulting in a horrid blood blister and losing a toenail (ew).

2007: Dropping a GORRAM plastic crate full of books on my foot resulting in awful bruising, the inability to flex my toes and a weeks worth of limping around like a bound Chinese girl.

I can only pray that next October is just as fulfilling. Wouldn't want this glorious tradition to cease, now would we?

Work Product, Example No. 12

Work Product, Example No. 11

Work Product, Example No. 10

Work Product, Example No. 9

Work Product, Example No. 8

Yes, I get it. Carrying a child, creating life, continuing the existence of the human race, creating something original from your loins...it's all very beautiful and romantic and lovely. Got it. BUT SERIOUSLY, GUYS. Why the Christ is everyone I know gettin' all PREGO right now? 1/3 of the women I work with are prego, 1/3 of my friends either have kids or are prego and there's The Sister as well. This is gettin' crazy peoples. Real crazy. Not that I mind, in fact I'm quite happy for all of you (mostly for Trier and the fact I get to be an Aunt!), but it's like someone tainted the water with Pregojuice that sent all of y'alls hormones into a biological clock racing frenzy.

Whatever. Come the time, ladies, I'll be that single girl at the baby shower; the one who gifted you with hazardous lead tainted toys and is now polishing off that third bottle of champagne with your mom. Congratulations on your conception.

I may sound pessimistic, but note the upward tilt of my drawring. OPTIMISM SHINES THROUGH! Hurra!

ALSO: When/if I ever jump on the Prego Band Wagon (in, like 15 million yrs), someone PLEASE buy me a neon pink mumu with an arrow pointing toward my big fat belly that says "Behbeh".

Work Product, Example No. 7

"Happiness belongs to the self-sufficient".
-Aristotle

There is something incandescently peaceful and pleasant about riding your bike in the early hours of the morning that makes the 5a.m. wake-up altogether worthwhile. The feel of marine layer against your skin, the slight breeze in your hair and the constant cyclical motion pushing mile after mile of asphalt under your tires... it's no big surprise that after two years I am still trying to get used to the unhappy fact that I live in America, but at least now I live in a part of the country where bicycles are commonly regarded as a means of transportation. A region where Critical Mass is alive and well and as controversial as it should be. A city where cycling 18miles to work is a common occurence and packing groceries into a backpack is granted a small smile from the cashier. So I guess that's one great thing about Huntington Beach.

NEWS: The iPod ban on our office has now been lifted. After a solid week of nothing but the click-clacking of keyboards and the inane chatter of the co-workers to keep my ears company, I can now tune out the office and happily work along to the euphonious wailing of Karen O. (and yes, the incessant Yeah Yeah Yeahs tangent is still alive and well).

Might check out Oktoberfest this weekend, visitors pending. YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS: kartoffeln puree, sauerkraut und brezel!!! Accordionists from Wurzburg! 80yr old contortionists! BIER!!!

The Voyeurs were awesome last weekend what with their cheesy antics and fantastic waistcoats, I highly suggest them. They're playing Alterknit tomorrow night with The Dirty Hearts out of Austin, Texas (and when has the Austin music scene ever steered you wrong?). Looking for something to do? GO CHECK THEM OUT, YO. Doors at 7:30pm, $8 day-of.

P.S. Drawing bicycles is loving difficult, kids!

Work Product, Example No. 6

Yeah, Scorpions and my AWESOME vocal chords. That's right baby, consider yourself fully rocked like a hurricane.

Also, they finally moved the useless scanner that's been keeping me company and allowing scanning these to be an easy-peasy-pie operation. Now, we must covertly use the public scanner in the kitchen. LET'S SEE HOW LONG IT TAKES ME TO GET CAUGHT DRAWING CARTOONS, KIDS!

Skinny and I are checking out THIS BAND tonight. Should be funtimes. I'll have to let you know. This, of course, is all pending on my sleuthing skills being able to unearth my pocketbook (which I cannot find. And yes, I still drove to work because, Dottie, I'm a rebel like that*).

Oh yes, I absolutely cannot get enough of The Mae Shi and Matt and Kim. Check 'em out, kiddy-winks!

EDIT: Gorramit, I just noticed my mouse suddenly morphs into a wireless in the 4th panel. OH WELL, GUESS YOU'LL ALL JUST HAVE TO DEAL. <3's








*Don't tell the authorities, plz. I've given them enough money this week. Kthx XD

The Great Gift Basket Excavation

As promised, here is the photographic documentation of the Great Gift Basket Excavation. Enjoy.

The Gift Basket: so pure. Untouched. Soon to be raped.

I am very excited about this basket. In no way let the deadness of my eyes and the large fake smile attempt to fool you.

If only there were some way we could neatly open the basket...OH WAIT.

(complimentary scissors so that we may neatly open the gift basket.)

We excavate without waking up any undead mummies.

The Spoils:

1 box Crisp Light Crackers1 box Saraivanov Smoked Salmon

1 jar Saraivanov Caviar1 box Cassil & Klein Caramels

1 box Hathaways Caramels (same as the Cassil & Klein)

1 box Cassil & Klein Biscotti

1 triangle Cassil & Klein Cranberry Twist (trailmix)

1 pyramid Hathaways Sour Cherry Candy Drops

1 box Hathaways Old Fashioned Candy(coffee hard candies usually found in geriatric pockets)

1 box Hathaways Citrus Gems (squares of gelatin wrapped in a light sugary coat)

2 tubes Bonbon au Chocolat

1 box Dolcetto Wafer Rolls, Tiramisu flavour

1 box Aaron Bell Candy Berries

1 box Macadams White Chocolate Pecan Shortbread Cookies

1 box Brown & Haley Almond Roca Buttercrunch Toffee

1 container Toffee Peanuts

1 box Pretzel Crisps (suspiciously similar to Southwest Airlines pretzels)

1 bag Aaron Bell Pistachios

1 box Los Olivos Wine and Cheese Biscuits

1 box Aaron Bell Seasoned Crackers

1 triangle Camembert

1 container Dagoba Cacao Powder

1 bottle Chateau St. Jean Merlot

1 bottle Chateau St. Michelle Sauvignon Blanc

1 bottle Summerfield Cabernet Sauvignon1 pair Scissors (complimentary)

I won't lie, it's a lot of things one would find in a hotel minibar. Plus a pair of scissors.

So then Whitney and I decided to try the caviar.

Being the champ/thinkforherselfer/general person of AWESOME that I am, I went first.

(I will not be doing this again anytime soon.)

Whitney went second.

(I somehow doubt that she will be trying caviar again anytime soon, as well.)

I mean, it wasn't BAD, per se. The texture was odd and upsetting yet still doable, but then the pressing thoughts of the overall tininess of the eggs and their ability to slip down the back of your throat (funny how reproductivey things have the ability to-- nevermind) was upsetting. Caviar, as I would assume, is made up of dead fishy eggs, yes? But even then, some weird subcortex of my brain begins to wonder, "What if they aren't dead? What if little tiny fishies begin hatching and swimming around in my insides, their only way of escape through my urethra?! STRANGER THINGS HAVE HAPPENED!!"

On a related note: Plans for the Great Foofy Wine Party have begun being drawn up. Expect to dress nicely (dresses, ties, etc.) and drink your weight in wine until Bacchus gleams with vintneristic pride.

Work Product, Example No. 5

Golly my hair has gotten long. What do you think, back to chin length? Karen O. style? Or keep it growing?

ALSO: Tonite we excavate the gift basket. Review of Britta's Caviar Tasting Adventure (complete with disgusty faces!) forthcoming.

A Deal-Breaker, for sure.

I once went on a date with this guy and things were going great until we got back to his place and I saw that his CD collection featured Sublime, Creed and ICP rather prominently. I then had to form a graceful exit strategy claiming "womanly" things. He called me a week later and I let him go to voicemail.

(from Dustinland)

For awhile I felt bad about this until I realized that Music Nerds can and should only date other Music Nerds. It's a safety thing; god forbid you begin to get a little personal and he decides to play "When You Look Me In The Eyes" by The Jonas Brothers in place of anything by Zero 7, M83, or even Prince (all of these acceptable choices. Nothing kills the mood quite like a tune produced by the Mouse).

To further incriminate myself as a Music (Snob) Nerd, there are certain friends of mine at whose parties I always arrive with a fully charged iPod; spending the precious early moments of socialization and imbibery by lurking about the speakers in the corner waiting for that perfect moment to unplug the Pre-Made Party Playlist and usurp the offensive musical power with my own carefully constructed list of tunes. Catty? Very much so, but one can only handle so many exclamations of "OHMYGOD I loooooooooove this song." Before an even-worse-than-the-original-although-I-never-in-a-million-years-could-have-dreamed-that-was-even-possible rendition of The Pussycat Dolls' "Don't Cha" is performed to the delight of nobody.

I consider my actions to be of a great boon to society and ear canals across the board.

Play Us a Song, Dave!

If you've not been blessed enough to witness Dave Matthews Band live, I would suggest procuring a time machine and travelling back to about 1995 when they were still touring the "Under the Table and Dreaming" album, thusly saving yourself the mind-numbing hours of whale infused Celtic flute and Native American wind music that dear Evan and I were saddled with last night.

Granted, tragedy had befallen the band earlier in the day and one cannot blame them for sticking to a more somber setlist than they might have previously planned.

That all being said, can anyone actually understand what Dave Matthews is saying? In an attempt to transcribe the lyrics to a particular song (whose only understandable lyrics seemed to be "brothers and sisters," and "Ooh yeah-eh-eh-yeah,") I could swear I heard him say "the empty sun with angels well lit/ *mumble mumble mumble* oven mitt".

Happily enough, the tickets were free and events of the evening rather epic. Therefore, I feel only a pretentiously parodying piece of poesy may do any justice to the performance, so please enjoy a piece I have entitled:

"'Twas a Free Concert of a Band I Really Liked Back in the Mid-to-Late 90's", or "Play Us a Song, Dave!"*

'Twas a mid-August Tuesday in downtown LA
And the kids were all gathering to see Matthews play.
The tickets were printed, held tightly in hand
Excitement was brewing for their favorite band!

Bartender's served drinks and the swag was well sold
With visions of "ants marching" strung up in bold.
I, in my skinny jeans, and Evan, a bro
Had driven up northwards to go see the show.

When out in the lobby a ruckus we heard
As the bros headed inwards not to be deterred.
So into the arena we wandered to sit
In hopes Dave would play us his one favored hit.

The smoke hit the air as the first chord was struck
And it wafted behind us; that known stench, what luck!
When, what to our wondering ears should be said
But news that the band's saxophonist was dead.

He passed after noon, Dave Matthews dictated,
He gave up the ghost and is sadly belated.
So tonight, he informed us, we're going to play
The songs he enjoyed back in his living day.

With Celtic flute trilling and whale sounds galore
Dave Matthews played music from a far off shore.
Not sure what to ponder, to gander, to think,
We excused ourselves briefly in search of a drink.

As sure as the sunrise will follow midnight
'Tis not a true concert unless there's a fight.
Beverly Hills and her boyfriend; a Tool,
Had decided to make themselves look quite the fools.

Dressed in cheap imitation with gin breath to spare
They begged for a kiff, waved and danced on the chair.
Their friends stood before them, annoying the masses
Harassing the crowd with spilled beer from their glasses.

'Til security came and the Tool he did shout,
"Hey, f*ck you all! I know what it's all about!"
He pulled on his shirt and lunged toward a fellow
Who before this had been rather still and quite mellow.

The guards, they detained him as Dave strummed along
Leading the masses in a well-known song.
Singing the chorus to Gabriel's' "Sledgehammer"
Dave Matthews, he grinned and the words he did stammer.

The band played succinctly, not missing a beat
And Dave, he did hop 'round and dance on his feet
Cradling his guitar with the love of a father
He played more new songs. Play a hit? Oh, why bother!

As the evening wore on and we heard "Satellite",
"Two Step" it seemed, would be nowhere in sight.
David Byrne represented, the house was burned down
And a story was told of an African town.

As we checked our clocks, saw two hours had past
We wondered, would he play "Ants Marching" at last?
Then finally, strung fiddle strings played aloud
That familiar tune truly pleasing the crowd.

The intro extended, Staples Center did swell
With sweet tempered humor the cheering befell
And we heard him mumble, 'fore the stage he was lit;
"Blargedee blumble farfall, merfin dee, oven mitt."


* There was a gentleman sitting three rows behind us who took it upon himself to begin yelling "Play us a song, Dave!" about an hour into the show. Perhaps before this moment Dave had only been reading aloud to us? Lecturing on the theories of Quantum Entanglement and the misunderstood purpose of the Hadron Collider? The world may never know, but thanks to this one man Dave did indeed play us a song (or twenty). Thank you, unknown gentleman.

Oh Hello, My Celebrity Crush From 1997

Welcome back.

Why yes, I believe I will be seeing your silly little film, Mr. Frasier. What's that? You'd like me to thank Hollywood for making you look less like a creepy balding strong-jawed man? Well in that case, Hollywood, let me say from the heartiest of hearts THANK YOU on behalf of myself, Mr. Frasier, and every twenty to thirty-something female/homosexual male who saw George of the Jungle.
Much Love,
Britta

Work Product, No. 4

Work Product, Example No. 3

Productivity at Work, Example No. 2