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Tuesday, July 27, 2010


ps I know I'm slacking. I'll get back on my game soon

Friday, July 16, 2010

I may have mentioned that I can be a bit obsessive...

And the W+K website isn't helping. Yeah. That's Isaiah Mustafa, the man your man could smell like. In a blazer T-shirt.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

gimme some sugar

Melissa told me that the average person spends something like 20,000 minutes kissing in their lifetime. And then I was trying to figure how much time I'd spent kissing. And I realized that I only really remember 3 kisses. In my life. I mean, I have memory of doing more kissing than that. But I mean actually remember? 3.
1. First kiss. Kevin something. I think his last name starts with an H. In a fraternity house. Lots of blacklight and glowing alcohol bottles. It was a pimps and hos party. I was dressed appropriately.
2. Most awkward kiss. New Years eve 06/07. Stood next to Scott for like 45 seconds after midnight. Blew a noise maker. He had turned me down but I was with him at a New Years party. What the hell was I supposed to do? I didn't know. Neither did he. We shrugged and then kissed. Almost a butthole kiss. See below.
3. Best Kiss. Nope. Not tellin. But I remember it.

A silly kissing story.
In something like 6th or 7th grade one of the boys I grew up with asked me out. Well, HE didn't ask me. Thomas Hawk did.(who I was in LOVE with by the way. He had longish floppy hair. We had a very short fling but he dumped me because I wouldn't ride on his pegs without a helmet. Safety. First.((that would make an excellent euphemism, but it's also a true story)))He took me behind the blacktop and told me that Jeff Dillon wanted to 'go out with me.'I thought it was weird but Jeff and I already rode the bus together and shared an affinity for the song "Barbara Ann" by the beach boys in addition to a pretty strong affection for South Park. Once I called his house and left a message for him. At the end, I said 'screw you hippy' which is FREAKING HILARIOUS if you watched South Park then-believe me. It was quality. His father called me and yelled at me. Apparently, that's inappropriate. uh, so now the lead in is longer than the story but the story is that one day (towards the end of our brief but obviously very meaningful relationship)he and Kyle Jordan came over to my house unannounced. I was reading. Probably a Mary Higgins Clark novel. I wasn't in the mood to entertain so I did what anyone would do. I just kept reading and pretended they weren't there. At which point Kyle says, 'just kiss her so we can leave!' Well, I never!
We broke up because he obviously didn't respect me.

More about kissing. Jason sometimes gives butthole kisses. These are the most uncomfortable kisses ever. It's when you purse your lips together really really tight. So they're kinda hard. It's so much more awkward then you ever think it's going to be. And they're almost as uncomfortable to give as they are to receive.

Another rewind.
I got in trouble multiple times in elementary school for chasing and kissing boys. I also kicked them in the shins. This disarmed them so I could kiss them.
One time my teacher called my mother because I lined all the boys up and went down the line kissing each one. I was a damned floozy. Maybe I'm not behind on my 20,000 minutes after all.

yeah right season 3 of Mad Men

Courtesy of Netflix, I've just made my way through Mad Men, up to season 3. AND I found out the season premier is right before my birthday. Excited. Also, irritated that I will have to wait a week between each episode.
The point of this post, however is this:
One of my all time favorite scenes. In anything. Ever. Is when they are all in the Hotel Room/Office at the end, eating lunch. It's wonderful.
It's the bees knees.

I love John Goodman

But then again, who doesn't?

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

More of the most amazing man. Ever.

Feast your eyes upon this.

He just keeps adding more. And they keep getting more amazing. AND I'm pretty sure he's filming them in Portland which means he's in Portland which means we're going to meet and fall in love and then he's going to prepare 12 course meals for me while fashioning outrageously beautiful jewelery with his own hands...while wrestling an alligator.

Warrior Dash

So I kinda want to do this. It's epically bad ass. The course in Oregon involves rappelling down a ravine, trudging waste-deep through a bog, knee-highs through tires, climbing a cargo net, climbing over hay bales and old cars, a trench crawl, jumping over fire, and crawling under barbed wire.
And I think I want to wear a giant fake beard. It's only just over 3 miles. Which I know I will be able to do by then (I should be able to jog 3 miles in about 3 weeks actually. fingers crossed). It's just SO badass it's almost irresistible.

Dutch flower paintings

I was reading Frolic, one of my favorite (and also local!) blogs written by stylist Chelsea Fuss who I might be a little bit in love with and/or I want to be her. But anyway, she mentioned Dutch Flower Paintings. Yeah. Right. They're gorgeous. Amazing. I want them to cover my walls. Better yet, I want an entire wall painted in this style. A dutch flower painting mural.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Before I'm too old to see rock formations...

I want to brush up on my geology knowledge and take a geology road trip across the US. I love geology. Volcanoes. Earthquakes. Fossils. Rocks. Geology is freaking awesome. I would like to be an amateur geologist- just know enough so that when I see some rock layering, or a formation, I can figure it out. And then I'd drive across the country and see dormant/active volcanoes, interesting rock formations, mineral deposits, etc. Before I die, this will happen.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

My weekend alone

I am about to head off to kickball and will therefore be ending my weekend of solitude and had some thoughts.
I spent the entire weekend alone. Well, I spent it with myself. And Joseph.
But I didn't sit and stare at the TV. When you do that it's easy to forget you're alone because you don't have to notice anything that's actually happening.
On Friday night I came home and cleaned my kitchen, read, and worked on a project. I drank tea before bed.
On Saturday I got up at 7 in the morning and made tea, ate a tangerine, and read for two hours. I then took Joseph to Tabor for some stairs and a short circuit workout at the top. I stopped at the dog park on my way home and we ended up staying for two hours as Joey made friends with a beautiful blue girl-pit with a german name I can't remember or pronounce.
When we got home we took a shower (don't judge. It's more efficient as I get covered in water anyway) and then watched some True Blood I've pirated off the internet while I ate my late breakfast.
I then got dressed in something I loved and went to the Mississippi Street Fair. Alone. I didn't call anyone. I just went. I walked up and down and people watched. I listened to music and sampled salsa at the whole foods booth.
I then went home and watched some Mad Men while I ate my late lunch of pbj and ramen. I read some more and swept my apartment. I read the news. Then I headed to Lents Park off of Powell to watch Spaghetti with a Chance of Meatballs in the park. By myself. I didn't really have any desire to see this movie but I was determined not to just sit in my apartment. Spending time with yourself, after all, should involve doing something, or somethings. (I did invite a friend to the movie but without any real hope that he'd come) There were many children and I was actually pretty at ease which is saying something. I then came home and passed out.
This morning I woke at 8 and made tea and read until a half hour ago when I made myself the best breakfast potatoes I've ever made myself. My father has been cooking me breakfast my whole life so I'm always disappointed in my attempts but these were actually pretty good. onions and orange peppers sauteed with garlic (my usual). Seasoning salted red potatoes (microwaved first because I have NO patience for potatoes) were then sauteed with the onions, peppers, and garlic till brown. Actually VERY good. The kicker. I put a spoon full of spicy salsa in the bowl with my potatoes and mixed it all up. freaking delicious.
And now I'm going to kickball full and happy and knowing that I spent a whole weekend with myself and came out of it if not a little lonely, at least knowing that I like myself quite a lot- I think you have to really like yourself to enjoy your own company, and I do. So, no big revelation here but just, I feel good.
***Post kickball addition
We won our game and had a blast. I really love the folks on my team. And at the after-game bar I gave a strapping young chap my number. Ran after him down the street to do so even. :)

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Prairie Dog

This last fourth of July weekend I had an amazing weekend in Salem with my parents. On the fourth, I carried a notepad around with me to take notes- specifically for blogging purposes. Out of hand? maybe. The following is a true account.

It's about 6pm. And it's the fourth of July. And we're Ridderbuschs. We're drunk. My mom starts telling me about a recent weekend trip she and my dad took with my Uncle Randy and Aunt Sandy (yeah, really. Those are their names. Even better? My dad and uncles are Richard, Robert, Randal, and Ronald OR ricky, robby, randy, and ronny) On their drive they stopped at a bar. My uncle and aunt were familiar with it and walked right in. My mom took one step in and stopped. There was a moose head at the end of the room. My mother has a phobia of taxidermied animals. Anything dead and hanging on your wall/posing on your bookshelf? She's terrified of it. She tells my uncle, ' I don't think I can go in there Randy. I see a few more." He tells her she'll be fine/she can do it/ go team and she decides to be brave. She'll just drink. And not look up.
She's striding confidently into this bar and "there's a prairie dog RIGHT there in front of me, and it's all *imagine my mother, claws up thriller style with fangs bared*. So I backed up and got the fuck out of there." I love this image immediately and scribble down a description on my notepad. She tries to grab it from me (she's not a huge fan of me describing how ridiculous we are on the world wide web). She fails to get the notepad and continues her story. She went and sat in the car while everyone else had a drink.
At this point my dad, who was in the kitchen cooking (per usual) jumps in to describe the inside of this place as my mother was bounced out by a stuffed prairie dog and cannot give me all the details. Apparently, the walls are completely covered in dead animals. So are the shelves. The best part? The are ALL in attack mode. Every single dead and stuffed animal in this bar looks like it's about to rip out your jugular.
My mom jumps back in and makes a comment about the prairie dog. Apparently my dad hadn't been listening closely earlier because he asked "what prairie dog?"
mom "the one by the door"
dad "what prairie dog?"
mom "the one that scared me! the one that's all *thriller arms and bared fangs*"
dad " mean, the coyote?"
me "yeah. fucking. right."


let's just let that sink in.

My mother, ladies and gentlemen. I mean, I suppose in some ways that makes sense. It's dog like. And perhaps you could find one on the prairie?

It is 95 degrees

And I just finished day 1 of week 5 of C25K (which is run 5 min, walk 3 min, run 5 min, walk 3 min, run 5 min). I did week 4 twice because I knew I couldn't move forward yet. Yeah, that out of shape. However, I feel like a champion. A sweaty, sunburned champion.