Saturday, December 30, 2006

It's harder to compromise when you know too much.

The other day I was talking to my friend Jeff Beck on IM. He told me about a date he went on and why he wasn’t interested in dating her a second time. Then he asked me if I thought that people our age could actually have a relationship with anyone. I told him it was a matter of compromise. That in our 20’s were optimistic and feel that we can work through any difficulties that may arise, but as we get older we have more experience with things that we know won’t work. We’re more pessimistic and less willing to compromise. After every heartbreak we cross off another thing that we don’t want or and another thing we must have. Here is my example:

When I was 20 I was looking for a guy who shared my religious beliefs, was taller than me and had dark hair.

Now I’m looking for a guy who: shares my religious and political beliefs, is 6’4”, has dark hair, blue eyes and a European accent, plays acoustic guitar, likes the same kinds of movies, music, and books as me, is an artist (any medium—subject to change), is great at massages (and gives them to me only), is kind, generous, and respectful, has no debt and is willing to help me get rid of mine, has a car that works, is good at working on cars, has a job that pays well, is handy around the house, never has to be asked twice to do something, remembers my favorite color, flower, food, etc., kills bugs for me (or at least gets them out of my immediate area), makes me laugh and is either named Brian or David because those are the names my friends seem to have had luck with.

So, yes, it is possible for us older ones to have a successful relationship…it’s just a statistical improbability.

The COOLEST Christmas present ever!

Okay, so I got the COOLEST Christmas present ever. Sally and David Eames-Harlan gave me a faucet light! You put it on your faucet and when you turn it on a blue light comes on and lights up the water! ISN’T THAT AWESOME!

My apartment is VERY old…can someone tell me how to get calcium build up off of my faucet so I can turn on my faucet light?

my other one-pagers

copyright 2005 Maaike Davidson

At an airport waiting to board the plane. DEATH, who is very tall and wearing long black robes, walks in and sits in an empty chair next to NORBERT, a small, unassuming man.

NORBERT: (Nervously) Excuse me? Mr. Death?

DEATH: (In a very deep, clear voice.) Death.

NORBERT: Pardon?

DEATH: Just Death. Not Mister Death.

NORBERT: Oh, sorry. Um, Death, I...I see by your ticket that you’re in the seat right next to mine on the flight.

DEATH: 24C. Yes.

NORBERT: Should I be worried?

DEATH: Worried?

NORBERT: I mean, am I...(clears his throat) on your schedule?

DEATH: Not yet, Norbert.

NORBERT: (Very nervous) You know my name?

DEATH: I know everything’s name. I must know them all. I am Death.

NORBERT: Well, if it isn’t me, then it must be someone else on the plane.


NORBERT: (Panicking, but trying to speak quietly) Oh, God! Is the plane going to crash? Are we all going to die?

DEATH: Norbert, you need not worry.

NORBERT: We’re all going to be ok? All of us passengers?


NORBERT: (Relaxing) Slow day for death then, eh?

DEATH: No. There is never a slow day. (sulking, angrily, almost like a spoiled child) The airline made me check my scythe.

copyright 2005 Maaike Davidson

DEATH stands by the turning carousels of the baggage return. He is staring at an extremely nervous looking young man behind an airline counter. DEATH has his arms folded across his chest and is tapping his bony foot on the floor, making a loud, resounding, tap...tap...tap. Above his head is a sign that reads ARRIVALS. Quiet MUZAK is playing over the speaker system. ANNOUNCEMENTS of flights can be heard.

NORBERT grabs his bag from the carousel and sneaks away while DEATH is not looking. Other passengers follow suit.

DEATH: What do you mean, you’ve lost it?

copyright 2005 Maaike Davidson

Airport waiting room/lounge. A man in a business suit sits reading a book. A young guy, disheveled, falls from above, then sits in the seat right next to him despite empty seats all around.

ANDRES: Dude, I was just abducted by aliens!

Man nods, trying to read his book.

ANDRES: Aliens! Can you believe it? Who knew they were real?

MAN (looks up at him): Were they like everyone says? Green-Grey with big eyes and no ears?

ANDRES: No man, not big eyes...they had big hair. Like, (thinking) who was that chick on t.v. a long time ago?

MAN: Barbara Streisand?

ANDRES: No. The Bionic Woman? Or maybe one of Charlie’s Angels?

MAN: Farrah Fawcett?

ANDRES: Yeah. These aliens had big hair like her. And they wore matching uniforms. Navy blue–with red stripy things at the neck. (beat) Cravats, I think, like Fred on “Scooby Doo.” And they pushed around silver carts filled with food.

Pause. Man turns back to his book.

ANDRES: (continued) They strapped me into a seat. Strapped me in! And there was like, no room to move. Then the big-haired aliens told me that the cushion under my butt could be used as a floatation device. How can I use the thing to float if they’ve strapped me in? And the bigger question is this: What were they going to do to make us have to float in the first place?

MAN: That is a corker.

ANDRES: You know what they did to me next?

MAN: (Keeping his eyes on his book). Shoved probes up your rectum?

ANDRES: No! Dude! That’s gross. No. (Almost shivers) They made me eat fish.

MAN: Fish?

ANDRES: Fish! They said in a really high pitched voices: (stress vowels) Weee are oooout of chiiiickeeeen. On the plus side, they gave me a bottle of vodka that they’d shrunk down with some kind of shrinking ray gun. That’s pretty damn cool.


ANDRES: (Continued) So, where are we?

MAN: Des Moines.

ANDRES: The aliens brought me to Iowa? Man! They could have at least left me the floaty-butt-cushion.

copyright 2005 Maaike Davidson

A group of people stand in line waiting to check in at an airport. A tall woman in line is surrounded by many short people. A young kid stands behind her. The line moves slowly.

KID: You’re tall.

WOMAN: (Having heard this before) Yes.

KID: How tall are you?

WOMAN: 6' 2".

KID: Do you play basket-ball?

WOMAN: (Obviously tired of having had this same conversation many times) No.

KID: (Beat) How about volleyball?

WOMAN: Nope.

KID: Well, what sport do you play?

WOMAN: I don’t play any particular sport. (The man in front of her in line accidently bumps her with his bag. He looks back and then up.)

MAN: Sorry. (He stares for a moment then goes to the available attendant.)

KID: You’re taller than my dad.

ATTENDANT: Next. (The woman steps up and hands the attendant her ticket). Are you over six foot tall?

WOMAN: (Exasperated, addressing everyone around). Yes. I’m over six foot tall. Yes, I’m tall! No I don’t play basketball or volleyball! No, I can’t find women’s trousers with at least a 37 inch in-seam and yes, sleeves are always too short. Yes, thank you all for noticing the obvious and pointing it out to me! If it weren’t for all of you, I’d have never realized my own height!

ATTENDANT: (Beat) Um. I was just wondering if you’d like an aisle seat. You can stretch your legs out. I mean, it’s a long flight.

WOMAN: (undaunted) Oh, yes. That’d be great.

copyright 2005 Maaike Davidson

On the cleared side of the metal detector stand DOROTHY, COWARDLY LION and SCARECROW.

TIN MAN walks through and BEEPS. He returns to the other side and takes off his hat. He tries again. BEEP.

TIN MAN: Oh! (Slapping himself on the head). My oil can. Sorry.

He tries again to walk through the metal detector and BEEPS again.

TIN MAN: I’m sorry I’m a problem. It’s causing me such great despair.

DOROTHY: I swear, if we end up walking to OZ again, I’m gonna be pissed.

The Red-Eye
copyright 2005 Maaike Davidson

Three vampires stand in line at a check in counter in this order: TALL, MEDIUM & SHORT. They are all trying desperately to pretend that they are not vampires, but they are all obviously vampires. TALL speaks slowly and with confidence. MEDIUM is very nervous and SHORT is somewhat oblivious to life around him. They each have a small carry-on bag.

CLERK: Window or Aisle?

ALL: (very quickly) Aisle!

CLERK: Any dietary preferences on your in-flight meal?

TALL: We’re vegetarians.

SHORT: I’m not. (The middle vampire elbows him in the ribs.) Oof! (He gets the hint) I mean...I’m not hungry. Right now. But when I do get feeling a bit peckish, I would, of course, prefer the vegetarian meal.

(Medium and Tall start whispering)

TALL: And we have food allergies.

MEDIUM: Yes, we’re allergic to garlic.

CLERK: No garlic?

MEDIUM: All of us.

TALL: It’s a family thing.

(Pause as the clerk enters this into his computer. The vampires exchange “yes, we are so smart” glaces.)

CLERK: You know, you’re in luck, there’s an earlier flight that has some space on it. We could get you on...

TALL: Ah, ha-ha. I, that is, we appreciate your courtesy. But we really don’t mind flying the red-eye. We are, as one would say creatures of the night.

MEDIUM: People! People of the night!

TALL: We are people of the night.

SHORT: Night-people. So to speak.

CLERK: Well, you’re very lucky. Our Flight attendants are also night-people! Debbie, Buffy and Frank have been flying this...

MEDIUM: Excuse me...who?

CLERK: Debbie, Buffy and Frank...

(The vampires go into a quick huddle. We hear them whispering. The clerk leans in to try to hear. The huddle breaks.)

TALL: (Trying to be nonchalant) I went to school with a Buffy. Is she 5 feet 4ish with blonde hair?

CLERK: No, she’s a 5 foot 9 brunette...from Brazil.

(All vampires show that they are physically relieved).

TALL: (Continuing his act of nonchalance) Oh, that’s not her then. My mistake.

CLERK: Well, here we are, then. Three tickets. Your seats are listed here (clerk points to a place on the ticket) and your flight leaves from Gate 6A.

ALL VAMPIRES: (Various lines of Thank you’s)

They pick up their bags and head off stage. The clerk continues to shuffle papers and type into the computer. After a moment an announcement is made...

ANNOUNCER: Due to mechanical issues, Transylvania flight 722 will be grounded. But don’t worry, passengers, we’ve got good news. Van Helsing Air has agreed to take the passengers on to their destination. Please board at Gate 6A.

The clerk shuffles papers. The three vampires come running from the direction they left and continue off the other side of the stage.

CLERK: (Smiling) Works every time.

One Page Plays

Here at UI there is a festival of one page plays. Two of mine: Come in Tower and Angel Commandos were presented in this festival in 2005. Here they are...

Come in, Tower
copyright 2005 Maaike Davidson

ED standing on step ladder on the tarmac. Waiting. He looks around, sees Harley’s dog and makes note of it. DAN approaches, eating a sandwich that he takes from a paper bag. They are both wearing blue coveralls.

DAN: Hi Ed.

ED: Hi Dan.

DAN: Flight comin’ in today?

ED: Yep.

They wait.

ED: You still datin’ Shirley?

DAN: Yep.

ED: Isn’t hard having her gone all the time?

DAN: If something’s important, you work for it.

ED: Ain’t that the truth.

DAN: Only...

ED: Yeah...

DAN: It doesn’t seem the same.

ED: Things change.

DAN: I mean. I think she’s seeing someone else.

ED: One of those business guys?

DAN: Maybe. Or a pilot at one of them fancy airports. You know how women are suckers for uniforms.

ED: What do you think you’re wearin’?

DAN: A uniform that ain’t covered in grease.


ED: You wanna get a beer after work?

DAN: Shirley’s coming today.

ED: Stayin’ the week?

DAN: Yep.

ED: Bring her along.

DAN: Sure. She’s a sport.

FEMALE VOICE: Tower, this is Flight B. Come in tower. (While the announcement is heard, ED climbs to the top rung of the ladder and Dan picks up the paper bag and holds it above his head to see if there is any wind.)

ED: (Speaking into a walkie-talkie) This is Tower. Come in.

FEMALE VOICE: Hey, Ed. How’s it look?

ED looks back and forth from his position on top of the ladder.

ED: Clear in all directions. Wind is from the...

DAN: North.

ED: ...North. And Harley’s dog is loose again. (Looks around.) Can’t see it right now.

FEMALE VOICE: Roger, watch for Harley’s dog.

DAN tugs on ED’s pants leg.

ED: Oh, hey, Shirl? Dan says Hi.


ED: Runway’s yours, Shirl. Tower out.

He remains on the ladder, looks to one side where the plane is coming from and slowly starts waving his arm in a large gesture.

DAN: You could hear it in her voice. I don’t think she loves me any more.


ED: You can’t stop progress, Dan. You just can’t.

Angel Commandos: Warriors of the Sky
copyright 2005 Maaike Davidson

In an airport in front of the escalators. ULI an angel with halo, wings and army boots carries a walkie talkie.

ULI: G-R-4 to base. Come in base.

BASE: This is base, go ahead GR4.

ULI: Where’s the newbie you’re sending me?

BASE: She left 20 minutes ago. Hang on. G-1-6 this is Base. Come in, G-1-6...(beat) She’s not responding.

ULI: (sighs) There she is, I see her. G-R-4 out.

BASE: Base out.

Enter NELLIE a less experienced commando.

NELLIE: (Dressed the same. She is very happy) Hi! I’m Nellie! I got a little lost in the... (gestures back to where she came from and mimes putting on and off a top hat with both hands.)

ULI: What’s your code?!


ULI: We address each other in code!

NELLIE: Um...(looking at her halo for identification) Gabriel sixteen. I think.

ULI: G-1-6. I’m G-R-4.

NELLIE: (looking around) I thought there’d be more of us. JFK is a very big airport.

ULI: There’s usually 25 of us in Domestic, but it’s just you and me this afternoon.


ULI: The group was dispatched to Flight 815.

NELLIE: Why? (Quietly leaning in to ULI) Is the plane going to crash?

ULI: No, food poisoning. (beat) Just you and me deciding where we’re really needed. (She looks at her monitor–NELLIE leans in).

NELLIE: Oh no! Blasmessy!

ULI: What?

NELLIE: Blasmessy. You know, the taking of the Lord’s name in vain.

ULI: Blasphemy.

NELLIE: That’s what I said; blasmessy.

ULI: It’s pronounced blasphemy.


NELLIE: Is it still a sin if you can’t pronounce it?

ULI: Fuck, yeah.

Her halo starts blinking red and blue like police lights. OR there is a loud siren.

ULI: Sorry, just trying to prove a point.

Her halo returns to normal.

NELLIE: (Looking at monitor) Crisis of Faith! Crisis of Faith! What’re we going to do!? (Nellie mumbles...) First we’ll...then I’ll...

ULI: I’ve got it. (Into walkie talkie) G-R-4 to base.

BASE: Go ahead G-R-4.

ULI: Flight 1243 to Pittsburgh needs to experience some faith promoting turbulence.

BASE: We’re on it. Base out.

NELLIE: Wow. You really stay calm during a crisis.

ULI: I’ve been on the job a long time. Stick with me–you’ll learn a thing or two.

BASE: G-R-4 this is Base.

ULI: Go ahead, Base.

BASE: You’re needed in sector 2.

ULI: Roger, that. G-R-4 out. (To Nellie) Ok, I’ll be back in a minute. It’s all yours.

NELLIE: You’re going to...(gulp) leave me?

ULI: You’ll be fine. (Exits).

Nellie talks to herself trying to remain calm. Something happens off ULI kick something with her boot and there is a muffled “FUCK” from off stage. The sirens start sounding again throwing Nellie into a panic.

Fade out.

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Katie's letter keeps growing because I have no ink

December 19, 2006,

Well, the letter just keeps going because I still don’t have any ink! Although I have no ink, I still have stories to tell.

So, yes, cursed, I am. A bit Yoda-ish there, but it’s true. I am cursed. Even calling him “Spence” didn’t work. It’s cursed and although I always knew it wasn’t going to work out there was at least the hope. You know how girls are, we think that if we just wait long enough it will work, but we know it won’t. Why are we so dumb? Anyway. Spence & I are just as much Boyfriend & Girlfriend as my sister Sherri & George Clooney.

Thank God for Shirley Manson & Garbage. I love listening to her and thinking about going on a crime spree after I get my heart broken. I think I’ll start with smaller crimes. Like vandalism and arson. Or something like that.

I’ve got a couple of things to say on the subject (of heartbreak, not petty crime):

1. The palm reader was wrong. I’ve had my heart broken more than 7 times. (Not that I put a lot of stock into palm readers, I just hoped she was right on this one after I cried over number 7–you remember the story?)

2. No matter how many times my heart gets broken, it still feels like the first time...& it still hurts the same way.

3. No matter how many times I tell myself “this is the last time” I know I’ll be stupid enough to do it again.

4. Having your car tires wear out, your computer have issues & having confirmation that your current crush is not interested all at the same time really does warrant the number one slot on “The Grand List of Things That Suck”

Well, I did get some good news. That I still look at with a sideways glance and think it’s just a disaster in disguise. My play “Strings” got accepted into KCACTF for our region. I’m chuffed. I’d be more chuffed if my entire writer’s group didn’t also get accepted. It would be cooler for me if it were just ME but as it stands, it’s pretty cool for Rob and the department. I want to win. I always want to win. But I’ve been sending stuff in since I was 18 and nothing ever comes of it. It’s a problem with not winning, one gets too used to it. ACK!

ACK! I say. ACK! Katie, I just have to quote Judd Hirsch and say “Life is a swirling sucking eddy of despair filled with small moments of false hope in an ever blackening universe.” I’d trade everything I own and live in a box if I could live in that box with a man who loved me so much that he’d choose me out of all the other 3 billion or so women who live on this stupid blue/green planet.

I’d better get to sleep. I have to put a smile on my face and go to the radio show tomorrow smiling and telling myself that “I’m fine, I’m happy.” See, that’s the kind of research I do for my plays.


“It’s no use listening to what people say, words are only there to hide their thoughts.”
–Terry Pratchett

Maggie–age 43

Maggie will wind string around the stage. She should start with a thinner string visible to the audience (i.e. yarn) and progressively move up to thicker strings until she ends up with rope. She is wearing pyjamas and fuzzy slippers. It is Christmas. She has presents wrapped under a small tree. Man and Woman will play all the other roles as needed.

It is important that Maggie’s lines are read with nonchalance and with the kind of chipper attitude of a woman having spent her entire life telling everyone (herself included) “No, don’t worry about me, I’m fine.” Even self-deprecating lines need to be said with an air of aloofness as if she believes she has let go of the hurt.

Maggie: I have a theory for life. It goes something like this: We start out in life with total, complete, and unadulterated self-confidence...which is destroyed by the time we get to junior high...we then spend the rest of our lives trying to rebuild that lost confidence. That’s my theory. Where does the confidence go? You’d think that starting out with confidence it would be hard to topple us, but it’s actually quite easy. Like water dripping slowly to destroy a mountain. Like the day I was at Sears with my Mom. I was 5 or 6 years old...kindergarten age, and there was a display of television sets. One set was on “Sesame Street” and all the others were on the news. Obviously this was a mistake so I proceeded to change all the tv’s so they were on the same channel. Just as I finished my artistic work a man in a dark blue suit stomped up to me and shouted...

Sears Man in a Blue Suit: (Angry, but not shouting) You’ve just ruined my whole display.

Maggie: I, I ran where Mom was in line and then thought about how mean that man was. I’m sure he doesn’t remember yelling at me. And I’m also sure that I’m not the only kid he ever yelled at. But, at the same time I remember it. I think that was one of the steps down from my self-confidence.

(She looks at her strings.) I started out stringing popcorn for the tree. I guess I got carried away.

When I was eleven I was on a baseball team–not because I wanted to be, but because my neighbor was on the team and didn’t want to go alone. I was playing third base at 9:00 a.m. facing the sunrise. Anyway, the ball was hit in my direction and I lost it in the sun. I didn’t make the catch, but I did manage to pick it up and throw it to second to get the other runner out. Upon returning to the coach I said, “I couldn’t tell the difference between the ball and the sun!” And the coach said,

Female Coach: The ball hit your mitt.

Maggie: ...after that year, I didn’t play baseball again...because my neighbor didn’t sign up. I don’t know why I remember these things. I don’t know if we won the season or not. I don’t remember the color of our jerseys or the name of our team, I just remember that one day when I didn’t catch the ball. Isn’t it strange what our minds will remember?

There are other things...positive things, I remember, of course. Like Mr. Firkins, my eighth grade science teacher. I asked him questions all the time. He never seemed to get annoyed or bored by it. Maybe he was happy that I was trying to learn. And he joked with me, too. I think, if I look back, he was my first crush. One day he brought in this cartoon with a bunch of pigs sitting in a little pig pig was raising his hoof. The teacher pig said to him, “There’s no such thing as a stupid question, but if there was, that would be it.” Mr. Firkins hung it on the cork board, and smiling, pointed to it and said:

Mr. Firkins: Maggie, this is for you.

Maggie: I giggled and thought it was wonderful. Now it’s just hurry the kids through school and don’t worry about what they learn as long as they pass the state sanctioned tests.

She looks at the tree.

I buy myself Christmas presents. My Dad died when I was sixteen and Mom died about three years ago. I’m single and an only child. I wrap up my presents and put them under the tree with the tags marked to me from different actors. This one (She puts down her string and holds up a present) is the complete “Jeeves and Wooster” series on DVD and the tag reads:

Hugh Laurie: To Maggie from Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry...hugs and kisses.

Maggie: And this one (she holds up another present) is a wok. It’s from Jamie Oliver.

Jamie Oliver: To Maggie from have to learn to “wok” before you can run.

Maggie: (she picks up her string and starts winding around the stage again) It’s a stupid pun, but it really is a great present. I hate wrapping seems like such a waste of time...but I do love unwrapping them. It’s funny, I get embarrassed whenever anyone gives me a present. I worry that the look on my face won’t match what they were expecting.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, my theory of life. So anyway, these little things that should go by unnoticed stick in our memories. It then becomes a game of teeter-totter trying to balance out the good and the bad comments. Sometimes the good ones don’t get said as often as they should. Or sometimes the bad ones are just heavier than the good ones. It’s like how the Wicked Witch of the West came in on a broom and Glinda came in on a bubble. The broom is ugly but it takes up space and has definite weight; the bubble is beautiful, but light and airy. Glinda’s bubbles don’t add up as fast as the Wicked Witch’s brooms. At one point in the movie Glinda says:

Glinda: Only bad witches are ugly.

Maggie: Which very few people remember, but the Wicked Witch says:

Wicked Witch: I’ll get you, my pretty.

Maggie: And everyone remembers that line; you hear it repeated in all kinds of scenarios, but to find Glinda’s words you have to listen really, really closely.

Junior high and High school are not the place to rebuild this lost self-esteem. It’s a place to try just to survive without too many scars. You’ve got to learn to ignore the girls when they run in to class happy as all get out that so-and-so just asked them to the dance when deep down inside you were hoping he’d ask you. High school cliques with their unidentifiable rules that you can’t figure out if you’re an outsider. The girls who are interested in the boys about two years before the boys are ready and then when they are ready they’re so juvenile that you really don’t want to talk to them at all.

You head to university and by the end of the first year you start feeling like you’ve shed the high school image you had and you start to redefine your life. Many people start rebuilding their self-esteem. But again, it depends on the balance between the good and the bad. For example, you’re in class and you spend time chatting with some gorgeous guy when one day he turns to you and says:

Gorgeous Guy: Maggie, if you were a girl...I mean you are a girl know what I mean.

Maggie: Yes. I know what he means. But it doesn’t matter. Not only are there more fish in the sea there are seven seas to fish in. Anyway, you continue with school and, if you’re like me, you find a brilliant career. (Small pause) Did you ever see that movie?

Movie guy: Judy Davis and Sam Neill star in “My Brilliant Career” directed by Gillian Armstrong. Based on the novel by Miles Franklin.

Maggie: It bugged the crap out of me. Sam Neill is there and this girl chooses to have a career over being married to him. Sybylla even realizes that she’s not beautiful. At one point she says:

Sybylla: I think ugly girls should be shot at birth by their parents.

Maggie: She turned down Sam Neill! (She looks back at the tree) I think there might be a gift in there from him. I wouldn’t turn down Sam Neill. Even in his early days when he was a little too thin.

Anyway, my career. I got an MBA and now work for a large company running Human Resources for their main branch. I love meeting all these people and hearing about their different backgrounds. Human beings are such interesting creatures. So diverse. Every person makes such different choices. We all begin and end in such different ways. I think the most fascinating people are the ones that you’ve known forever and suddenly they tell you something you never heard before and it totally shocks you. It makes you realize that there is no end to what a person can do.

In the midst of my career I started feeling very sick and ended up at the doctors office. The doctor said to me:

Male Doctor: You have endometriosis. It is so severe that I recommend a hysterectomy.

Maggie: My best friend said to me:

Female Friend: I’m so jealous! You’ll have no more periods and you get to go through a doctor observed and medicated menopause. I’m seriously so jealous!

Maggie: She gave me a book by Sheila Martin titled The Worried Woman’s Guide to a Happy Hysterectomy. The whole thing was pretty easy...the surgery and all...and I did have a very quick recovery. The doctors said it was because I lived a healthy lifestyle. Besides, I didn’t have Sam Neill showing up at my door asking me to give up my career for him so I wasn’t really using all that female stuff anyway.

Where was I in my theory? Oh yes. We get into our careers...and, and, and our lives, and we grow older we start letting go of the dumb things that hurt us in junior high. We realize that although at the time high school was life it isn’t real life. We let go of the girls that snubbed us and the boys that were too stupid to notice us. We start rebuilding our self-esteem.

She sits down and starts fashioning a noose at the end of the rope.

Now, some people have an easier time of it and are able to rebuild their self-image sooner than others. But not everyone gets pushed down to the same level. And still others get pushed down farther than we can even imagine. Maybe a point of no return...and there is abuse that we–as outsiders–can’t understand. And of course there are mental issues, like depression. Anyway, we build and rebuild ourselves until we find a day when the bubbles outweigh the brooms.

So, that’s my theory. We start out with confidence and self esteem to rival the stars. When we look in the mirror we see ourselves, our real self. But by junior high and high school we’re destroyed so that when we look in the mirror we only see the ugly parts, the wrong parts, (she touches her stomach) the missing parts. Then we spend the rest of our lives rebuilding our self-worth. Most will succeed.

She hangs herself with the rope.

Female: This theory is completely conjectural.

Male: More a hypothesis than a theory.

Female: She never understood the difference between the two.

Fade out.

Monday, December 18, 2006

Spence suspence

December 11, 2006

Dear Katie,

Hi! How are you? Things here are good. And right now here is the language lab & I’m giving out Greek Mythology tests. As of right now I have 180 tests to give over the next 3 days. Oh joy. It gets crazy in here some days...and not just because I’m crazy in here!

I’m sorry to hear about the boy...but I’m glad to hear that you’re happy about it. I’m trying to figure out a coded way to talk about the boy in my life without cursing it. Yep, anytime I talk about a boy I’m interested in I end up cursing it. How about we won’t call him by name. Let’s call him “Spence” after my sister’s imaginary boyfriend from when she was eight years old.

So, here’s the story:

As you know, I teach Comm 101: Intro to Speech. I love teaching the Tuesday night class, it’s my favorite. Last Spring as people were coming in I was talking with Ben Stellmon (Jade’s husband) because he was in my class & just watching people as they came in. Class started & I was my usual spastic self. Well, there was this guy in the class that has a definite sense of personal style (a trait I admire–I hate the guys who look just like every other guy) & glasses. He has dark hair (as you know I’m partial to). I made the class laugh, which is my instant feedback I crave & he smiled. & do you know what...when he smiles it’s like his entire soul is smiling. I swear it comes all the way down from his toes & comes out as a smile from his whole self. It’s beautiful. & I thought, “He’s cute. But he’s my student. The end.”

This was the year that I was really struggling with where to go to church & one day I woke up too late for the Quail Run ward so I went to the Shingles Ward. In passing in the hallway, I saw Spence. “Hey!” I said. & he said hey back. That was it. The only time I saw him at church but I’d see him on Tuesday nights in class. I’d talk with Ben & goof around with some of the students...the outspoken ones that I knew I could joke with. Spence was very quiet but he did smiled or laughed at my silliness so every once in a while I’d throw in a joke just for him.

The semester was over & I was done teaching. Grades were entered & I was officially no longer his teacher, so I sent him an email that said something along the lines of “now that I’m not your teacher, we should hang out.” He wrote back & said something along the lines of “sounds good to me.” So we got together before I left for the summer. Then we emailed during the summer & when I got back we got together. We’ve got some friends in common, so it’s cool to hang out with them.

Spence is quiet. If we’re in a group, he doesn’t do a lot of talking, but if it’s just me and him we talk together for hours! It’s so much fun. He’s got a great sense of humor & he makes me laugh. We spent some time together during Thanksgiving break to go see a concert in Seattle (which, by the way was AWESOME) & I was filming our trip & you can just hear me laughing at things he says, but the recorder didn’t pick up his voice. He’s great. He’s younger than me (he’s 28), but many people are. He’s studying horticulture, he has an early morning show on KUOI, he’s an artist, & a writer. He’s brilliant. & he’s got this smile that just kills me! & it’s hilariously funny that we have gotten together & have become such good friends, because he’s so quiet & I’m just not.

He’s a Gemini & I’m a Scorpio, which is a difficult combination...but Jade & Ben seem to be doing fine with it!

Oh, & just so you know, irony continues to rule in my life because Spence has so much in common with another person in my life. (But unlike Mr. Cheese, Spence has many things in common with someone I love instead of he’s got that going for him!) They have the same name (currently: Spence), they’re both Geminis, Vegetarians, have dark hair, dark eyes, glasses, they’re nearly the same height (Spence is taller by almost an inch), love plants, & they make me laugh. & my favorite thing...they both have an ability to make me feel beautiful. I’m more accepting of myself when around either of them, instead of being so self critical as when I was around the likes of Mr. Cheese & his previous doppelganger.

Well, now the mushy love crap. It doesn’t exist. I really like him. He’s kind, gentle, handsome, wonderful & has been totally raked over the coals by the last girl in his life. He’s very protective of his heart right now. I understand. I mean, I can’t promise him I won’t break his heart. He can’t promise me that he won’t break my heart, either. None of us can promise that to anyone. I can promise that right now I have no intention of breaking his heart & would just really like to see if we could be boyfriend & girlfriend. I’m being patient, least my version of give him the time & space he needs to heal or to trust or to whatever he needs. It’s maddening & I want to shout out loud that I love him, but I can’t. I’m a bit protective of my heart, too. I mean, one cannot be single for this long without having had many opportunities to build walls around one’s heart.

That’s my story of Spence.

Now in other news:

I was wearing my “Somebody in Nepal Loves Me” t-shirt at work. Dr. Steckle (the oh-so-amusing German professor) walked into the lab and read my shirt. Then he said, “They found him, & shot him.” I said, “So, now I have to change my shirt to ‘Nobody in Nepal Loves Me’?” and he said, “Also take out ‘in Nepal’.” He cracks me up!

You’ll have to check out my my story about carrying a scythe across campus. Do you have the link to my blog? I think I’d given it to you before, but just in case: & I finally posted some of my art on there. Some collages & some charcoals. I haven’t done any art for a long time. Just don’t have the time for it. That’s another reason I’m looking forward to Christmas break.

Speaking of Christmas break, I’m going bonkers deciding what to do! I don’t want to drive home because my tires suck. I can get to Boise with Daniel and then catch a plane out to Idaho Falls, stay for a few days and then catch a ride back to Moscow with a girl named Emily. But the whole trip will cost me over $200.00. I’m too poor for that. So, I decided not to go. But then I was talking to Jeff Beck and he said that I should get new tires for my car because it’ll be safer (for sure) and then it’ll make it easier to sell my car next year. My car’s not worth much, so I didn’t want to put much money into it because I want to get a new one next year. ACK! Sometimes I really hate making decisions and wish that someone would just do it for me. And drive me. But that’s easier to find: a chauffeur verses someone who can make decisions for me. But only when I want them to. I can make most of my decisions on my own.

It’s actually the next day. My printer is out of ink at the moment so I can’t print this letter so I thought I’d just keep going. Spence dropped by last night. He’s thinking of getting a laptop and wanted to see if he liked mine. And he wanted to burn something but we couldn’t get it to work. I think my laptop has achieved it’s maximum life. Why don’t things last longer. Poor computer. I named it “Chesterfield Snapdragon McFisticuffs and it’s lived a good life. If I get new tires, I can’t afford a new computer. ACK! Well, I could use my student loan money to do it, but I really want to use that money to get out of debt. But I really don’t see myself finishing school without a working computer. I’ve fallen victim to one of the classic blunders, the first is never get involved in a land war in Asia, but only slightly less well known is this: never go up against a Sicilian when death is on the line...or let your computer and your car both break down at the same time. Does anyone have any Iocaine powder I could borrow? I feel like building up an immunity.

Well, in continuing news:
Since I still don’t have any ink...

I was grading tests for Dennis West and I don’t know how I did it, but I was short one blue book. The girl had handed in the first part of the test so it made no sense that there wouldn’t be a blue book. I looked EVERYWHERE and went BONKERS trying to figure out what to do. Dennis didn’t make it any better by telling me what I “SHOULD” have done. Okay, fine, when they invent time machines you can tell me what I should have done and I’ll go back and fix it, but in the meantime I think that we need to look at where to go from HERE. ACK! It was so bad that I tied myself into knots over it and he made me feel like crap. I had to call him back about it, but I didn’t want to do so alone. I just needed someone in my corner, so to speak. Anyway, I went to where Spence was working and asked him to just stand by me while I make the phone call. He did. It helped. I don’t know why, but I’m much braver if someone just believes in me. And that was Spence’s second time at being my “Knight in Shining Armor”.

Anyway, because of some things that were happening in my life I have started making “The Grand List of Things That Suck. Right now this is it:

1. Having to get over a crush because you know, that for no matter what the reason, it will not be reciprocated.
2. Losing one of the blue books in Dennis West’s film class.
3. Not being able to DEPOSIT a check even when your name is on the account.
4. Having brilliant ideas but lacking the capacity to bring them to fruition.
5. The infrequency in which the word “fruition” is used.

If you have any suggestions, I’ll be happy to include them.

Well, you know me, I could go on indefinitely, but I will stop.
Love ya!

Saturday, December 09, 2006

Goran Visnjic

Richard Roxburgh

Another 8X10 charcoal.

Alan Rickman

This is an 8 X 10 charcoal--so far my favorite one I've ever done.

Friday, December 01, 2006

Death's Secret 'Stache

Death (a skeleton)
Mrs. Death (his wife)
Daughter (their daughter)

In the kitchen of DEATH and MRS. DEATH. Think of the characters like Santa and Mrs. Claus...if they were skeletons...jolly, happy, etc. Mrs. Death is futzing: preparing breakfast. The couple has been married for thousands of years. They are fine with quiet moments in which no one is talking. Death comes running in carrying a manila envelope.

Death: It’s here It’s here It’s here

He waves the envelope.

Mrs. Death: What’s here, dear?

Death: My...(he pulls it from the envelope with a flourish)...moustache

He puts it on his face. It covers his lip and hangs down on both sides of his mouth.

Death: (continued) Do you have a mirror?

Mrs. Death: You’re Death, dear. Death doesn’t wear a moustache.

Death: Why not?

Mrs. Death: Statistics say that men with moustaches are 75 % less trustworthy than a clean shaven man.

Death: And 45% of all statistics are made up by wives to keep their husbands from doing what they want.

Mrs. Death: Oh, that’s not true.

Death: Right, it’s probably 60 %.

She stops her futzing to look at him. He poses for her.

Mrs. Death: You look very silly.

Death: I want to see. Do you have a mirror?

Mrs. Death: Look in my purse. I think there’s one.

Death: Your purse?

Mrs. Death: (she finds her bag and hands it to him.) Here you go, dear.

He takes it as if it’s carrying the black plague.

Death: Why don’t you look in it?

Mrs. Death: I’m not the one who wants a mirror.

Pause. Death stares at the purse.

Death: I don’t want to go looking in your purse.

Mrs. Death: Why not?

Death: I’m afraid of what I might find in there.

Mrs. Death: There’s nothing bad in there...nothing untoward.

Death: (mumbling, not thinking she’s listening) Mostly I’m afraid I’ll find my own testicles in there.

Mrs. Death: Oh, honey, you’re a skeleton.

Pause. Finally he digs around in her bag.

Death: Ugh, what the...oh, a walnut.

Mrs. Death: What’s that, dear?

Death: I found a walnut.

Mrs. Death: That’s nice.


Death: Why do you have a walnut in your purse?

Mrs. Death: To feed the squirrels.

Pause. Death finds the mirror and pulls it out. He looks at himself.

Death: The color’s a bit lighter than it looked in the catalogue.

He straightens the moustache and looks at himself.

Death: (continued) I was sure I ordered the medium brown. Does this look like medium brown to you?

Mrs. Death: (without looking) Maybe it’s burnt umber.

Death takes the moustache off and tries wearing it as a long pair of eyebrows.

Death: Isn’t that the same as medium brown?

Mrs. Death: Hmm...I don’t think so. I think that’s burnt sienna.

Death: You’re probably right.

Mrs. Death: If you think so, dear.


Death: It’s been a long time since I’ve had facial hair.

Mrs. Death: You’re an anthropomorphic being, Dear. You’ve never had facial hair.

Death: Didn’t I? I was sure I did once. Early stages? Maybe in a Dali painting?

Mrs. Death: I don’t think Dali ever painted you.

Pause. Death tries the moustache as a goatee. As he looks at himself in the mirror, DAUGHTER walks in. She is ready to go to school, dressed, has her bag, an MP3 player, etc.

Mrs. Death: (sing-song) Good morning

Mrs. Death kisses Daughter on the head. When Daughter sees Death with his moustache, she stops dead in her tracks.

Daughter: Hi D[ad]...(she stops, stunned) Oh, God, Mom What’s Dad got on his face?

Death: (absently, still wearing it as a goatee and looking in the mirror) It’s a moustache.

Daughter: On your chin?

Mrs. Death: We think it’s burnt umber, sweetie. Do you want pancakes for breakfast?

Daughter: Mom, you’re not gonna let Dad wear a moustache are you?

Mrs. Death: We’re discussing it. (Quietly mouthing to Daughter:) No.

He puts it back on as a moustache.

Death: It’s my moustache.

Mrs. Death: Whatever you say, dear. Now what about those pancakes?

Daughter: Nah, just juice today.

Death: (to himself...the others ignore him) I don’t think we need to be discussing...

Mrs. Death: We don’t want you wasting away. You need to eat at least one pancake... and a sausage.

Daughter: Okay, one pancake, but no sausage. I’m a vegetarian now, remember.

Mrs. Death: They’re soy-sausages.

Death: (turning around to where Mrs. Death is cooking) Oh, I hate those

Mrs. Death: They’re healthy, dear.

Death: Look, I’m Death, okay? I’m thousands of years old, I’m a 7 foot tall (5 foot 10) skeleton, I reap souls of the living and bring them to the land of the dead... I don’t have to worry about cholesterol... I can eat sausages and wear moustaches if I want. I’m DEATH for the love of Pete

Mrs. Death: Of course, you are, Dear. (Beat) Now how many sausages do you want?

Death: Five.

Mrs. Death: Three dear?

Death: Five. I said five.

Mrs. Death: Did you say three...because three is a recommended serving according to the box.

Death: (defeated–but not demoralized) Three.

Mrs. Death: That’s what I thought you said. Now, are you going to take that thing off before you eat?

Death: (feigning confusion) What, my cowl?

Mrs. Death: No dear, the moustache.


Death: Well, no. I think I can eat with it on.

Daughter: I don’t think the rest of us can.

Mrs. Death: Why don’t you save it for after breakfast. We wouldn’t want it to get greasy, now, would we?

Death: (mostly to himself) They’re soy sausages, how greasy can they be?

Pause. Mrs. Death cooks. Death arranges his moustache. Daughter listens to music and pours a glass of juice. Mrs. Death sets a plate of pancakes on the table.

Mrs. Death: Piping hot, HOTcakes

A car horn honks.

Daughter: My ride’s here Gotta go.

Mrs. Death: Take a pancake.

Daughter: No time.

Mrs. Death: There’s always time for a healthy breakfast, isn’t that right, Dear?

Death picks up a pancake and throws it to Daughter. She catches it and heads out the door.

Daughter: Thanks, Dad. Bye, Mom

She exits.

Mrs. Death: (sing-song) Got my pancakes made with my sausage...and some salt...not too much. (Sigh) I miss the days we all used to sit around the table together.


Mrs. Death (continued): Don’t you miss those days, dear? I’m sure you do.


Mrs. Death (continued): Do you really need that thing, dear?

Death: I need a moustache.

Mrs. Death: Like you needed that lawnmower? We don’t even have a lawn.

Death: I need this moustache.

Mrs. Death: People are less inclined to trust a man with a...

Death: I’m Death

Mrs. Death: I know that, dear.

Death: But do they? (He points off stage) Do they know I’m Death?

Mrs. Death: The Clarks? I’m sure they do, it’s on the postbox.

Death: Not the Clarks, everyone. Everyone out there. They’re no longer shocked by me. They no longer tremble with fear and awe.

Mrs. Death: That’s because you’re a very nice man, Dear.

Death: No, I’m not I’m not nice I’m Death Just...just because they see me on their televisions, in movies, on their video games. They read statistics about how many of their fellow men died and do you know they say? They say, (in a different voice) “that ad said butter is on sale at the grocers; we should go tomorrow.” (His own voice again) No one blinks twice at death on the tv. Murders every night at nine/eight central. They walk down the street talking on their cell phones saying offhandedly, (a sorority girl voice) “I watched the news the other night, people died n’ stuff.” (His own voice) I need a moustache to bring back the fear and awe. People are more afraid of bad moustaches than of Death himself.

Pause. He puts his head down on the table. Mrs. Death walks over and pats him gently on the back.

Mrs. Death: Oh honey, they’re still afraid of you on an individual basis.

Death: (not looking up) No they’re not.

Mrs. Death: Yes they are. Why, just the other day I overheard Mr. Clark say, “Boy, living next door to Death really creeps me out.”

Death: (looking up) Really?

Mrs. Death: Of course, really. (Mrs. Death touches him softly on his face) When do I ever use the phrase “creep me out” unless I’m quoting directly?

Death: They’re still afraid of me? Promise?

Mrs. Death: I promise. Ask any one of them if they’re not afraid of Death. Especially if you ask them, Dear. They’ll be shaking in their platform shoes.

Death: That was the 70's.

Mrs. Death: So was that moustache. Anyway, what I’m saying is that you don’t need a moustache. You’re terrifying enough as is.

Death: You’re right. (His confidence returning) Where’s my scythe?

Mrs. Death opens up a cupboard, his scythe is next to the broom and the mop.

Mrs. Death: Here you are dear.

He takes the scythe from her. He takes off the moustache and hands it to Mrs. Death. He stands in all his skeletal glory, and turns to the audience...

Death: Are you afraid of Death?

Death moves forward. Lights out behind him so that the stage can be set for the next scene. Death’s shoulders slump. His enthusiasm is waning. He talks to the audience.

Death: Did you know that more people are afraid of public speaking than of death? People would rather keel over than give a three minute speech. If you ask someone what they’re afraid of you’d be surprised how low on the list death will appear. They’ll list different things... Spiders. Snakes. Flying. Heights. “What about death?” you ask, “Oh, yes, sure. Put that on the list, too.”

This bothers me. I mean, I’m a frightening character. Look at me You should fear me. (Pause) Or at least put me higher on the list. Sure, being married has really mellowed me out...but you people rarely give me a second thought. That’s why you always say it was “too sudden”. How can it be sudden? You know it’s coming. You always know it’s around the corner. You don’t know if you’ll have enough money to buy a house. You don’t know if you’ll get that trip to Disneyland, but you know...YOU’re going to die. Eventually.

Okay, you don’t have to be all mopey about it. You don’t have to pine. But could you just stop once in a while and think about me?

Death takes his scythe and exits.

A Blonde Moment

Between switching classes with Sally she said to me, “I felt bad, one student had three cell phones go off during his speech today.”

To which I responded, “Why did he have three cell phones?”

Sally started laughing an then gave me a hug. Realization dawned and I turned red. I’m a dork. I can’t help it...I was born with really blonde hair.

Scythe DOES matter

Thursday. Snow. Ice. Theatre. That’s how it works. But you probably need more information then that. Very well. I’ll tell you.

As mentioned, it was Thursday. It had snowed a great deal and I had a scythe I needed to bring to campus. It was for the performance of my play Death’s Secret ‘Stache (I’ll include it for you to read). And, no, it wasn’t a prop was a real one (borrowed from Krysta Ficca’s Dad via her Grandmother who was smaller than the scythe).

The play was fabulous–Audrey Lauren Wax directed it (she’s brilliant and I was quite pleased to work with her) and it starred Christopher Coursey as Death, Kristin Haller as Mrs. Death and Anna-Marie Hearn as their Daughter. They were are brilliant. Chris was frightening in his white face wielding the scythe. The audience laughed when it was supposed to and I felt it was a great success. But now the adventure really begins...

The scythe needed to be returned to its owner. I carried it from the Kiva to the library (I had to return a movie for Dennis West’s film class). Thinking that walking into the library carrying this enormous farm tool might cause some problems, I was thankful when Angela Gruver (one of my fabulous Comm students) happened by. She and her friend (give me his name and I’ll immortalize him here!–oh, and I’d love to hear YOUR side of the story, too!) were kind enough to hold the scythe for me while I ran my errand. Then I carried it from the library to the Shoup. Where I found out that Krysta had not driven that day and that the scythe was still my responsibility. So, off I went from the Shoup to the TLC building with the scythe over my shoulder.

It’s quite a good psychological study of those around you when one is carrying a scythe. The looks I got as I walked across campus were a mixture of smiles and laughter, to fear and a look that can only be described as “WTF?”. I heard one group behind me talking. “Is that the thing the Grim Reaper uses?” “Yes,” said a voice with the fear and awe about which Death was concerned in my play.

When I got to was only 2:30. I had about an hour to wait. Jessi Lundeen (another Comm 101 student) had gotten there early as well so we decided to play a little joke on Sally Eames-Harlan in her Comm class. Jessi and I waited outside the classroom until the student had finished her speech. Jessi opened the door and I walked in with the scythe.

“ is time to go.” I said, lowering my voice as far down as it would go.

“No, we still have time.” she said, looking at the clock.

“No...Just YOU.”

We all laughed then Jessi and I left so they could finish their class. Afterwards Sally said that Dean Panttaja’s son was sitting next to her and said, “That’s why I don’t hang out at the theatre department.” It cracked me up.

When class was over I walked from the TLC to home and decided that if I slid on the ice I would throw the scythe away from me to keep it from chopping off valuable body parts. On the walk home I met up with Erik Hayes. He was kind enough to walk with me and not worry about the judgements (not to mention injuries) that may befall a man walking next to a girl holding a scythe.

Sunday, November 12, 2006

These images are some artwork I did. I found this image of this man with an umbrella but no trousers and I found it quite amusing. I love doing collage art. I find it very relaxing. Here are some of the pictures I did with this strange umbrella man.
Did he teleport? How did he get here? And where, oh where are his trousers?
And here again, he travels through the world without his trousers. At least he's not afraid to explore.
Why does this man have an umbrella...but no trousers? Was he ill-prepared or just absent minded? Is he more worried about his hair than his knees?

Whatever the reason, I hope that he finds what he's looking for under his umbrella and out in the stars.

Got Zines?

Hi. I have been having fun making my personal zine "The Sixth Minky". If you're interested in reading it, send me a stamp or a trade. I'd love to read your zine if you've got one.

Also, I'm searching for someone to draw a chicken. I've written a play called "Senor Pollo's Midnight Chicken" and I'd love to make a t-shirt with a chicken wearing a sombrero howling at the moon. If you can draw, send me your idea! I'll make you a shirt, too.

I love greeting cards. They make me laugh. Just thought I'd share that.

Love to all!

Saturday, September 02, 2006

Hey! Where have I been?

Sorry everyone! My goal of getting things posted on here more frequently was severely curtailed by the boatload of CRAP that landed in my life over the summer. I'm going to get back on to it, though. And a big thank you to those who helped me through it all this summer: Amy S., Daniel M., and Daniel R.

I have made my very first zine...called, what else: the Sixth Minky. If you're interested in a copy, send me something in trade: ie, your own zine, a Dr. Pepper, a buck to cover printing and a stamp, whatever to me: PO BOX 8891, Moscow, ID 83843. I'd love to start getting some zine connections. What am I talking about, I have THE zine connection with my friend Daniel. (Check out his site: What I really meant to say was that I'd love to start getting some OTHER zine connections.

Well, I'm off to do some artwork. I'm going to post some photos of my art soon, too.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Katie Quiz--April 1, 2005

Hi Katie,
How are you today? I think you need a quiz. So, this letter is written in multiple choice...and like all good tests, the answer is always “C” Good luck.

1. This weekend should be an adventure. I’m going to:
a. The Bahamas
b. Raise a People’s Army and seize control of the State
c. Play games with Joe, Matt, Brian and Nathan.
d. Count “pellets” to see how many rabbits live in a certain area.

2. We do it every weekend because we are:
a. Nerds.
b. Part of a research panel.
c. Addicted to the games.
d. Afraid of going to the “funstitute” and getting strange diseases.

3. Today while walking to campus I saw:
a. Ralph Nader.
b. An Asian girl eating the lawn.
c. Two geese having an argument over air space.
d. The Light.

4. And also noticed that:
a. Two wrongs DO make a right.
b. All three sides of an equilateral triangle really are the same.
c. The sun has shifted just enough that the “Disappearing Tree” no longer works.
d. My breasts were looking rather perky.

5. So far at work it has been:
a. Revelatory of the entire meaning of life.
b. One fire storm after another.
c. Incredibly boring.
d. Orgasmic

6. Luckily I saw:
a. Dancing pink elephants.
b. Pablo in checkered jeans.
c. Louis Perraud in the elevator.
d. A total eclipse.

7. And he’s going to:
a. Learn the cha-cha.
b. Protest the new turf by chaining himself to the lawn.
c. Bring me some tests to correct.
d. Propose.
8. So, that will keep me busy for a bit. Unfortunately the people who are supposed to be at work this morning:
a. Died in a freak napalm accident.
b. Support the new turf.
c. Haven’t shown up.
d. Are all Republicans.

9. But, seeing as it’s:
a. Just impossible to put a Cadillac in your nose...
b. Come as your favorite nudist day...
c. April Fool’s Day...
d. All pointless anyway...

10. I’m glad that:
a. Mini’s are the new IN car.
b. It’s a least starting to warm up.
c. Elizabeth isn’t here.
d. I’ll be getting those points for “enduring to the end”.

11. Elizabeth is:
a. A figment of my imagination.
b. A Mafia hit man (or is a “hit person” more politically correct?)
c. A very, VERY funny girl.
d. The bane of my existence.

12. She says she only keeps me around because:
a. I give her money.
b. I can calculate Pi to fifteen digits.
c. I smell better than most monkeys.
d. I have a nice butt.

13. So, I’m glad she’s not here because I’m:
a. Strangely attracted to her.
b. Unwilling to share my air space.
c. Afraid of the April Fool’s Jokes she might play.
d. Still recovering from last time.

14. In fact, yesterday, she stuck a sticker to my desk that read:
a. I voted!
b. “W” stands for wuss.
c. Maaike stinks.
d. I love Louis.

15. She’s always making fun of me because:
a. I’m a Mormon.
b. I have a fantastic ass.
c. Both A and B
d. None of the above.

16. But it’s all:
a. Going in my report.
b. Being recorded in Sherril’s office.
c. In good fun.
d. Moot because she doesn’t really exist.

17. And we really do spend the entire day:
a. Braiding each other’s hair.
b. Plotting how to sabotage the government.
c. Laughing until our stomachs ache.
d. Knitting exciting underwear.

18. Jeff Beck’s birthday is on the 19th and Christina and I are going to:
a. Dance a Pagan ritual in his honor.
b. Bake him a cake and then eat it all in his name.
c. Make him a silly little gift box.
d. Tease him about having “poo” in his closet.

19. Actually both John and Matt:
a. Know all the words to Abba’s “Dancing Queen”
b. Have poo in their closets, too.
c. Are having birthdays in April as well.
d. Are wankers.

20. The Spell Checker wants me to change the word “Wanker” to:
a. Special Child of God
b. Short stack.
c. Winker.
d. Midget platter holders.

21. I’ve been to work for three hours and I’ve only:
a. Gotten rid of one of my rashes
b. Thought of fourteen digits of Pi.
c. Helped one student.
d. Had seven visions of the Future.

22. Boy, I sure hope Louis
a. Can keep his lunch down.
b. Drives a Mini.
c. Brings me those tests soon.
d. Admits his undying love for garlic pesto before we run out.

23. Well, I suppose that’s all for today. I hope you:
a. Didn’t cheat.
b. Don’t get caught for causing that freak napalm accident.
c. Got them all right.
d. Voted for Ralph Nader.

24. Sincerely,
a. George Wuss Bush
b. The voices in your head.
c. Maaike
d. St. Jeff...the Patron Saint of Dangerous Driving.

25. I hope you had:
a. Your flu shots.
b. Your seat belt securely fastened.
c. Fun.
d. Broccoli in your teeth.

P.S. Here is the True/False portion of your quiz:

1. T F Maaike is incredibly creative.
2. T F We’re all happy that Jeff threw away the poo.
3. T F Matt probably doesn’t know what a wanker is.
4. T F Republicans care about the environment.
5. T F Women like watching four hours of football.
6. T F Thrift Store shoppers make better lovers.
7. T F Republicans care about other human beings.
8. T F Christina loves meat that comes in TUBES like hot dogs.
9. T F Platonic love often becomes boring.
10. T F Even if you’re a mutant, you can still get men as long as you have good boobs.

Just in case you’re having a hard time, the answers are: T,T,T,F,F,T,F,F,T,T.
Just in case you’re wondering: 3.14159265358979.

Dear Katie--middle of May 2005

Hi Katie,
How are you? It was fun seeing you for a bit...sorry we didn’t get to hang out much. These last three weeks have been particularly draining on an emotional level...and since I’m a Scorpio and life is all emotions, it wore me out physically as well.
It was fun to hear your adventures...although I’m greatly jealous.
I sent and email to Jeff Beck about how I had written off Mr. Cheese...but I’m still sad about it. I want some kind of acknowledgment from him. Just him saying that he realizes he was being a jackass and although we probably won’t be friends again, at least he was glad he got the chance to know me. Something. But I’ve heard nothing. Which might be a good thing anyway. Here’s what he wrote back:
You have more friends than most people I know. You are not doing anything wrong, so just keep being you and by-and-by you will make another male friend, and he won't remind you of provolone, Muenster, cottage, string, cheddar, Swiss, Colby, longhorn, Velveeta, nacho, Gouda, mozzarella, American, blue, Monterey jack, pepper jack, Limburger, or especially, crumbly goat cheese.

That Jeff sure has a way with words...doesn’t he.

Testing Center Blues
I’m so bored. Just sitting here watching people take tests. I played a couple of games of Literati with Elizabeth, chatted to Ryan, Diana, Christina and Jeff Beck. I was going to work on some transcriptions, but it’s been steady enough that the noise of the machine would bother the, that’s not getting done. I have a book to read that Kylie gave me, maybe I’ll do that for a bit.

No Matter Who You Are...
Yesterday Joe watched a couple of episodes of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” with me. They were really good ones and in fact, the one set of creatures were REALLY frightening so I was glad that I watched it with someone. Anyway, last night I dreamt that some scary creatures were chasing me around, but I was rescued by Angel...and I don’t care who you are, THAT’S A GOOD DREAM!

One Big Difference
I love how your letters are full of the dates you actually went on and the men who are actually madly in love with you, and my letters are full of the stuff I did with my pretend boyfriend. Not saying that Joe doesn’t exist, but I would like to try life on your side of the tracks for once. There is a quote from Saul Bellow’s book “Henderson The Rain King” that I always think of when I’m in this kind of mood; “My body! My body! Why have we two never gotten together as friends?” You know, it’s been my experience that the tall guys and the small guys all go for the small girls leaving big girls like me to fend for ourselves. I hate being this tall. What’s the sense in it? I don’t like basketball.

In all honesty I have to say that I’m jealous of the attention you get. In fact, it surprises me that I can be such good friends with such a tiny, beautiful woman. Normally I’d just sit in the back ground, hating you and wishing your hair would all to fall out.

“Respect My Authoritay!” (South Park quote courtesy of Caleb Twitchell)
There was this big (BIG) football player who came in to the lab to take his test. I told him that he had to leave his stuff at the front, turn off his cell phone and leave it in his bag. He said that he was expecting a phone call from his mom. And I said that he can’t use his phone during a test. The room was fairly crowded and I was also chatting on-line to Elizabeth just down the hall so I wasn’t too the beginning.

After a couple of minutes his phone rang. He said, “Can I get that?” I told him no. He said “It might be important.”

“They can leave a message, you’re in the middle of a final.”

“Stupid Teaching Assistant....(mumble, mumble, mumble)...” he said.

“Do you want me to have someone come down here and explain it to you?” I said. Then, I typed a message to Elizabeth to go have Sherril come down to the testing room. Sherril showed up and I showed her who it was.

“He knows he can’t take a call during a test.” she said to him. We chatted for a second and then I went back to my desk. I sent an email to Elizabeth to come join me in the testing room because I was a bit scared and Elizabeth is a lot feisty.

After a while his friend who got the new version of the test the football players had the answers to was flabbergasted to find out that he got a 25% on a test that he’d memorized the answers for. Hehehe! That guy left and was not too happy. Then I look over to the scary football player and he has a small scrap of paper that he’s reading–he set it on top of his test. I walked over to him and he tried to hide it inside the test.

“I need that piece of paper you have.” I said. He handed it to me. I looked at it and then said, “I need to take these, too,” and picked up his test and bubble sheet, “and you need to come with me to the office.”

We started walking down the hall and he said, “Can’t you just give me an F and not turn me in?”


We got to Sherril’s office and he said the same thing to her. She said, “Nope. I’ll turn it all over to Louis Perraud.” The guy was pissed.

When he left, I took his cheating friend’s test to Sherril and his friend had used that same cheat sheet on his test–without knowing that we’d redone the test. She’s giving it all to Louis.

The story continues. The guy called the registrar’s office and told them that he wanted to withdraw from the class because “he didn’t have time for it”. Well, the dumb ass didn’t know that to withdraw from a class the registrar’s office has to check with the department to make sure the guy’s been doing the work in the first place.

Sherril started laughing and said, “All he’s done so far is get caught cheating on the final...but he probably didn’t tell you that part, did he.”

I’m terribly curious as to what will happen. He’s a football player, so probably nothing because even though they can’t win a game to save their lives, the administration bends over and takes it because they think the dumb jocks are worth it. I hope that he gets kicked out or loses his scholarship or something that will be an example to the other football players. But the truth remains that none of us believe that anything much will happen to him.

Responses to my email:

After this happened I sent an email to the men on my address list (saying how much I wish one of them had been here to “protect” me). Here are the responses I got:

I'll kick his butt, just point me to him. You don’t deserve that. Where is he?? Casey "the Killa" Dean

Maaike, what did you do? Take his test away? Was it the final exam? Give a few details here!!! Ich bin gespannt (I am very interested!) David Ambrosek

Let me know who he is and I’ll send him a "virtual" threat if he attempts to do anything. In reality, I'm glad you had the guts to stand up to him. If he does anything to you, I'll kill him. Robert Palica
If I was there I would not have allowed the cheater to intimidate you. Sorry to hear about this. I have learned the hard way that shitty students tend to give there teachers the most shit.
Jeff Beck (who knows his shit)
Well, Katie I guess that is all from me this week. I hope you have a GREAT day and I’m really looking forward to our road trip this summer. It will be a blast!

Love ya!

Dear Katie--May 6, 2005

Dear Katie, May 6, 2005

Hi! How are you today? I hope you’re doing well. So...what’s next for you? Does your job end in May or does it continue through the summer? I’m heading home to help Mom take care of the house and yard...and of course to earn enough money to pay my bills.

I’ve had a hell of a week with a million little things going wrong and wearing me out. I am so looking forward to Saturday and sleeping in!

So, I wanted to put my hair in a ponytail because it was hot and I don’t like sunshine. BUT I’d left my ponytail holder at home. Usually I have it wrapped around my Dr. Pepper Lipsmakers lip gloss...but instead it was sitting at home on my television. I was sad, but then I remembered that there was always a ponytail holder on the ground somewhere. So, I just started looking. Here’s the adventures that ensued:

April 28th: 2 ponytail holders in front of Curves for Women. One small and yellow perfect clasp. One medium and white, rusted clasp...probably sat through the rain.
April 29th: 1 ponytail holder in front of Domino’s Pizza. Large and black, perfect clasp, but the elastic is a bit stretched out and nearing breaking point at clasp.
May 3rd: 1 ponytail holder on Hello Walk. Large and black, fancy sans clasp...some rich snooty sorority girl has no ponytail today....Mhahahaha.
May 4th: Ack! The cleaning crew is out! They cleaned the streets! How ever will I find ponytail holders now? I might have to break down and buy some. I own some...I might have to use them. Curse capitalistic society where one must buy their own ponytail holders and the streets are cleaned by the lesser criminals of the Department of Corrections!! Curse you!
May 5th: 1 ponytail holder in front of the bookstore. Medium and brown, fancy sans clasp...take that both snooty sorority chicks and the Department of Corrections!! I’m still winning!

Doug Otto announces the arrival of his child:

This is from an email from Doug Otto:

We are expecting an offspring in November. Becca is having fun throwing up.

A man of fewer words would be hard to find.

My boyfriend is here!
I had gone to bed early and I was worrying about the fact that Grover was sleeping on my extra pillow on the floor instead of under the blankets with me and Eddie-Phil when my phone rang. Thanks to the personalized rings I knew it was my boyfriend, Joe.
I’d written him a message in his tablet on Sunday (Joel Harris thought it was mine and also left a bit of a note: a drawing of a snake). So Joe was just calling to say HI. He said he was going to go to the SUB to print a paper, but instead I invited him here to use my ‘pooter. It’s so much fun having my boyfriend here typing his paper while we listen to music and chat in between furiously typing our individual papers. Granted his is going to be graded and I’m just typing a letter...but I take it nearly as seriously.

Christmas in May

Christina cleaned out her closet and gave me a bunch of clothes! Seriously I hit the mother lode! I am so glad that I have friends to get hand me downs from. Christina has a bit more girly taste than I do, so the girly side of my closet has grown and the t-shirt side is feeling a bit neglected. Don’t worry t-shirts, summer is coming!

A much better horoscope than the last one!

Your most exotic spaced-out-during-the-lunch-digestion-phase-of-the-day dreams are going to be nothing -- nothing! -- compared to the very exciting reality coming your way today.

Our Vampire Names:

Me: Goddess of the Night...a needy and violent spirit.
You: Sophie Cromwell...Mistress of Sewer Rats
Joe: Hanzi Keat...Father of the Steely Moon
Christina: Marion Arnauld...Minerva of the Crows
Nathan: Elijah Saint Clair...a dark one, ancient, who flies free above all others
TJ: Launcelot le Boursier...Belatucadrus of The Winged Death
Matt: God of the Orient...Death of Wraiths
Kylie: Rosalind Darling
Teddy: Launcelot Darling
Janay: Empress of Moldovia...haunt of the highway thieves.
Ryan: Maharaja of Moldovia...hiding great power, great danger

Technology is the Bane of my existence

Here I sit completely angry and out of my mind. The ITS lab here on campus tells me that my computer is sending out SPAM and that I need to take my computer to Cactus Computers where they charge $40.00 an hour to correct things like that (if it takes 5 minutes...they still charge you $40.00. If it takes an hour and five minutes they charge you $80.00) because they don’t deal with HARDWARE problems. So, since my computer is not even a month old I contact Dell support...where they tell me that I have to call a different number because they don’t handle SOFTWARE problems by internet. I’ve sent an email to both TJ and Ryan because they’re the only ones I know who know about computers...BUT still...I’m very, very cranky.

Computer Help is on the way!

On a whim I called my home teacher, Brian Rucks, and asked him if he knew about computers. He said that that’s his major! I told him the problem and he knows exactly what to do! He’s coming over tonight to fix my computer. And TJ sent me a program called STINGER that should take the virus off of my computer. Man. It’s so very true what Mighty Mouse’s dad said, “Technology is a tool that may never, never, be trusted!”

I must break all contact with Mr. Cheese

I sent an email to Mr. Cheese telling him the following:

My friend Lucia is dancing in the Cinco de Mayo pageant. They are having free food and the admission is free. You might also have the opportunity to speak Spanish with someone. It’s Thursday evening in the SUB at 6:00.

To which he responded:

Unfortunately one of my brothers is coming in to town so I must decline your invitation.

WHAT INVITATION? I didn’t invite him! That’s what I’m on about...he always READS MORE into EVERYTHING!! I’ve already invited Joe to go with me and he’s already accepted...I just thought that as someone who’d lived in a Spanish speaking country for two years, he might be interested in knowing about it.

And then, after I told him that I rescued him from going through a repeat of exactly what’s been going on between us with another girl...all he says is that he can’t imagine having a conversation “Let alone a quasi-serious one” about zodiac signs because it’s complete “bullshit”. He doesn’t say thanks that I’ve got him off the hook, instead he just makes fun of me and the other girl for being interested in zodiac. BUT WHAT HE NEGLECTS TO SEE IS THAT HE’S EXHIBITING TYPICAL BEHAVIORS OF SOMEONE WITH HIS PARTICULAR ZODIAC SIGN. He’s such a putz.

Add that to the fact that he YELLED at me for being intuitive enough to know that something was wrong with him and that’s all I can take.

I sent him an email that said:

I thought you might like to know about Cinco de Mayo, but I wasn’t inviting you, I already have plans, too.

And you’re welcome for saving you from Emiline calling you up all summer and asking you out.

And I don’t think you want to be my friend because you’re not treating me nicely at all.

I will stop emailing you.

So, that’s the end of Mr. Cheese.

He’s building a very lonely world for himself. Unfortunately. And I feel sorry for him. I kind of hoped that he could teach me to be a little braver and I could teach him to be a little freer. But, as it turns out the stuff he taught me was lessons that Heavenly Father had to show to me.

So, out of The Seven...I am still friends with Brian, Pablo, Chase and, of course, Daniel. I have no idea where Arch is and Matt has moved to Boston. Pablo will soon disappear into the ether, I’m sure. It makes me wonder if Mr. Cheese will join the oblivion to which Pablo and Arch have been sentenced or if he can prove to be a friend in the end. Unfortunately (again) I think he’s headed into the quiet oblivion. So, I guess remaining friends with three of them is kind of amazing, really. Especially given that Daniel and I are so close. He kind of makes up for all the others.

...anyway...Good-bye Mr. Cheese.

Maaike Draws Out Secrets from Everyone!

Brian Rucks came over to install all those spyware search and destroy thingamajigs on my computer...he said that he was talking to TJ and TJ was laughing at me because of some computer related comment I made. Brian told me what I’d said and obviously it’s only funny in the computer world because to me it seems like a perfectly reasonable statement to make. Anyway, after Brian told me that TJ was laughing, he said, “Oh yeah, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

Then Joe came over and he apologized about being late because he was talking to a girl, but not just any girl...a BLONDE. Then he said, “Oh yeah, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

“Hey, I just did the same thing.” said Brian.

“Yes, I have a way of drawing out secrets.” I said.

Actually, I’m usually quite intuitive, but this time all I had to do was listen.

When all was said and done, Brian fixed my computer (with a little help from Caleb and a program TJ sent me) and we all watched “Pitch Black”. It made for a fun evening.

Well, I’m looking forward to your visit this weekend. I hope you have a GREAT day!


Dear Katie--April 29, 2005

Hi Katie! April 29, 2005

How are you today? Have you found someone new to replace the dreaded Metrosexual Dreamboat? I hope. I mean, you’re gorgeous I’m sure you can find someone! We’re having adventures up here...for example the infamous Joe that we’re all fighting over:

We’re all still fighting over Joe
Ok, you know those guys that get up out of their chairs for you? The ones that when you’re having a bad day really (REALLY) do want to listen? The ones that if you need help they drop what they’re doing and actually show up? You know those guys...the ones that live in our heads? Anyway, I FOUND ONE IN REAL LIFE!! His name is Joseph Carl Mitchell and he has all those beautiful qualities. (He’s a Cancer so he’s one of those rare signs willing to admit that emotions exist and that a man can be affected as well.) Anyway, Jade, Tennille and I have taken to fighting over him. He used to be my pretend boyfriend, along with T.J. Adams, but I’ve promoted Joe from “pretend boyfriend” to “real boyfriend” (since T.J. was only willing to give me Sundays and then he even backed out on that to take a nap!). I think next semester, when Camille is living with us as well, we’ll all be fighting over Joe. Poor Joe. That’s what he gets for being wonderful.

And he’s even earned a nickname! Since, for some unknown reason, Nathan continues to think Joe’s name is Rob, we’ve given him the nickname of Handsome Rob (you know, Jason Statham’s character in “The Italian Job”–Christina came up with it, I’ve got to give credit where credit it due!). Or, he could be Rob Anybody Feegle from “The Wee Free Men” by Terry Pratchett, but there is certain joy in getting to call him “handsome” whenever I feel like it without even considering consequences!

The problem remains that the year that I graduated from high school was the year that Joe was old enough to get baptized. But, if you consider the fact that we’re all ETERNAL we’re all the same age. I’ve just got to prove to be the best catch of all my roomies. (I’m going to cook him dinner this week–a recipe that my Daddy taught me and I can actually do! I’m not a very good cook, but this should be impressive...I hope.)

You know how dreams find their roots in what happened to us that day, well, I had a dream that Joe rescued me from an angry mob (well, an angry mob consisting of three guys in black t-shirts) and you know, he did kind of rescue me for real on Sunday. I needed gentleness and he gave it to me. What a good man. (And the best part is that he’s defecting from 5th Ward to 3rd Ward and he says that he wants to sit by me at church!)

The funniest thing...I saw Joe in Walmart with some brunette and I said, “Hi Joe” and the look on the girl’s face was like: why are you talking to my Joe? Do you not see me here! He’s my JOE! It was a hoot. I had to tell Joe about it later because, of course, he couldn’t see her face at the time. AND I tried to invite Joe over to play Settlers again, but, try as he might to be a faithful boyfriend to me, he keeps getting asked out on dates. I told him as long as they’re brunettes I won’t worry too much. But he should really avoid the blondes.

Then I asked him to check his date book to see if he was available...then I said, “Let’s call it a planner instead of date book because I can’t handle the jealousy of not having my name written on every day.”

So, Katie, do you think I could win the heart of a good guy? (I mean a good guy like Joe; he actually is GOOD. White hat and all.) I don’t know–there’s that part of me that thinks since I haven’t been a good girl that I deserve someone who’s a bit of a dictator (“and I’m only using the “tator” ‘cause you’re family”) but then again, I’m not a martyr and I deserve someone who loves me just because he loves me–not saying that Joe loves me anymore than, well, let’s say, T.J. does, but I deserve it because I’m a fabulous, giving person. But, the truth is that I’d probably just wonder the whole time which of my roommates he was really coming over to see!

Joy replaced by TERROR!!
You know, that joy I had about being accepted to grad school didn’t take long to turn into sheer terror. I think I’m going to go insane because of the stress. I missed my meeting with Rob to figure out what classes I’m going to take...we rescheduled and then he had something come up and he cancelled. We have yet to reschedule again. Oh goes on.

Then I had a job interview to teach the Comm 101 classes...and I was stressed and nervous about it. And while I was at work waiting for 11:30am to arrive, Elizabeth spent the morning SCARING THE SHIZA OUT OF ME!! She’d take her first to fingers so that they looked like snake fangs and in a quiet moment she’d go “AHHH!” and stab me with her fingers. I jumped every time...even the time that I was looking right at her and she pretended to be going after Lucia but got me instead. So...add that to the caffeine running through my system, I’m sure I made quite an impression on the woman.

Teddy Jessup: Soccer all-star
Wednesday is Kylie night and I go to Kylie’s house, we hang out and watch “Lost” and she makes me dinner. Last Wednesday I got to watch Teddy play soccer. IT WAS SO CUTE to see these little three and four year olds running around in their little uniforms trying to kick a ball into the goal. They were ADORABLE.

Teddy made a goal so Kylie, a couple other moms and I all cheered, “Good Job, Ted!” He turned to the crowd and gave the cutest yes-these-are-my-adoring-fans smile I’d ever seen in my entire life. Seriously, I should have brought my camera!!

After the game we were all sitting on the couch at Kylie’s house. You know how big brothers always take your arm when you’re relaxed and do that “stop hitting yourself” thing? Well, I have a nicer version called “noodle arms” and I was doing that to Teddy and he was laughing. It’s funny because when they have noodle arms, it looks like their arms stretch out longer. Ted said, “Do it to mom!” But Kylie didn’t want noodle arms. (I can’t say that I blame her.) But this led to an amazing discovery:

If you ever need to totally immobilize Kylie Jessup...tickle her feet. She’s helpless. She just sits there laughing and can’t even defend herself. I was laughing so hard!

New words:
When I went to the job interview, the woman was a tiny little thing. Like Lucia, or Jade, or let’s say I felt, as per usual, like Fezzic the giant (only I haven’t been fighting small groups for local charities. And I’m not unemployed in Greenland.) Anyway, my roomies and I went to check out a new apartment and the girl that showed us around was a tiny little thing...and so was her husband. I felt like I’d entered Munchkinland.

But then there was this really tall guy who came in to take a mythology test...and when he sat down he bonked his knee on the desk. It made a really big thud sound and he did that intake of air hiss, but refrained from saying bad words. I was quite proud of him. He talked to me about the bane of being tall. Ah...I understand.

Later I saw him in the hallway sitting up to a table. I said, “It looks like that table fits you a little better than the desks in the lab did.”

He said, “Yes, it’s a little more comfortable for those of us who are vertically enthusiastic.”

“Vertically enthusiastic? I like that!” I said. Then he explained that he took some class that was pretty much all about being politically correct and that’s what he came up with to describe tall people.

So, I’m no longer tall...I’m a Vertically Enthusiastic Dutch American.

Here are some of my friend’s nicknames:

Matt Ellsworth: Sparkle, Ocho, Robo-Matt, Matt-Matty-Matt-Matt-Matty-Matty-Matt-Matt
Christina Curtis: Yolanda, Yo, THE Yo, Christina Bobina, Christina Bobina Yolanda Hoop, Hoop
Joe Mitchell: Rob, Handsome Rob, Genuinely Handsome Handsome Rob, Rob Anybody Feegle
Jeff Beck: Jeffrey Leah Beck, St. Jeff the Patron Saint of Dangerous Driving, Jeff-Jeffty-Jeff born in nineteen jeffty-jeff
Caleb Twitchell: Twitch, The Twitch
Daniel Roots: Wesley, Henry, Batman, Squishy, Absolute Bastard
Ben Stellmon: Sweetie

But the funniest thing happened last night...I was talking to my mom on the phone (telling her that the cheesy potatoes actually turned out!) when someone knocked at the door. I opened it and said, “It’s Cute Jeff.”

“Do you know an ugly one?” Mom asked. “Is that how you tell them apart?”

I giggled, but I assured her that I didn’t know an Ugly Jeff. My mom’s a hoot.

My watch goes crazy:
I bought a watch at the Good Will in Pullman. I needed a watch that didn’t come from a cereal box and this one was not only pretty damn cool, but it also reminded me of a watch that David Boreanaz was wearing in a photo (mmm...handsome man). So, I bought it. But, like all things I own, it’s gone slightly mental.

First of all, the date thing doesn’t work on Friday or Saturday. It’s shows up Sunday through Wednesday perfectly, then on Thursday it tells me that it’s both Thursday and Friday. Then it shuts off for a couple of days. I figure it just goes back to my Jewish heritage and is observing what it considers the Sabbath day.

The other day it went completely bonkers and started beeping EVERY FIVE MINUTES! That’s something that wasn’t a heritage at all, but just a proven way to drive me insane. Since I bought the watch at Good Will, it didn’t come with instructions so I sat there pushing buttons until it finally stopped. Thanks heavens.

But now it beeps every hour on the hour. I have to put it in my closest under a pile of clothes so I can sleep and it doesn’t wake me up all night long.

Eddie-Phil loses his memory:
Do you remember Eddie-Phil? My teddy bear with multiple personality disorder? Well, when Camille was staying with us that weekend, she walked by just as I was asking Eddie-Phil what I should wear to church. She stopped and looked into my room to see who I was talking to. I pointed to Eddie. “This is Eddie.” I said.

“Oh, ok.” she said and looked at me as if I’d gone completely off the cliff.

“Well, you know how Jade has Piggy? This is Eddie.” Camille, having been friends with Jade longer than I have been knows perfectly well who Piggy is. She smiled at me in the same way most people do when confronted with the mentally unstable. “He helps me pick out my church clothes.” I said.

“Great.” she said, and slowly started to back away.

“But, the funniest thing is that he has multiple personality disorder and sometimes thinks his name is Phil.” I said.

Camille just smiled and walked away.

Eddie-Phil has no memory of Camille’s visit. But he does remember the day that Piggy came over and spent the day with him...he won’t shut up about it!

This girl doesn’t exist:
There were two girls in the hallway trying to speak French. The one asked a question to which the second replied, “Je ne suis pas.” Then she said, using a bit of Franglais, “Oops! I meant, ‘Je ne sais pas.” A slight difference, really...but instead of answering the first girl’s question with a simple “I don’t know” the second girl actually admitted to not existing in the first place.

Imaginary Friends can prove to be...confusing:
Before Joe became my official boyfriend, I was telling Aubrey about him. I said that I had a new pretend boyfriend and his name is Joe.

“Does his name have to be Joe?” Aubrey asked. “Maybe you could come up with a different name for your pretend boyfriend.”

“No, his name has to be Joe.” I said.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because he really is called Joe. He really does exist, he’s just pretending to be my boyfriend.” I explained. Then Aubrey looked at me a bit incredulously, as if trying to decide if Joe really was real, or if I’d just gone over the edge of pretending into thinking my invisible friends are real.

But, I learned the dangers of that when I spent the summer with my invisible friends, Joey and the Toms. When the invisible friends start talking back to you, making you laugh hysterically, it’s time to let them join the ether. Or, as Christina pointed out, if you’re playing “Twenty Questions” with your invisible friends and they stump you, then it’s time to move on.

Don’t make fun of the Canadian:
Randy’s mother-in-law has a new boyfriend and he was coming for a visit. Knowing how jokey her children and sons-in-law can be she asked them not to make fun of her boyfriend for being from Canada. She didn’t want any Canada jokes at all. They all agreed to behave themselves and not make fun of the Canadian. Then she said, “Oh, and don’t make fun of his voice either.”

“Why? What’s wrong with his voice?” they asked.

“His voice is a little funny because he was in an accident.” she explained.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes,” she said, “he was hit in the throat with a hockey puck.”

And that’s really all there is to say about that.

Well, Katie, my dear. I hope you have a FABULOUS week. There are only two more weeks of school left. Two crazy test weeks, trying to figure out about going to grad school. Trying to decide where I should last story:

Maaike learns just a little slower than most:
I was walking up to campus, talking to Heavenly Father at the same time. I said, “I have no one physically to turn to at this stressful time, so I have to turn to you. And you’re God and omnipotent and all of that stuff and I should be turning to you in the first place anyway. Holy Crap! Is that what this’s been about the whole time?!”


It hit me and I stopped there for a second under the newly budding trees and thought, “Man, I’m so glad that He has so much patience with me.”

I really do learn slowly, but at least I learn eventually!!

I hope you have a GREAT day, Katie, my dear! Stay out of trouble and remember to keep watching out for those good guys...they really do exist!