More Pibbles, More Twilight

Two of my favoritest things.

I had the world's longest day.

Start: 7:08 a.m.

The crazy pibble mix we've got for the weekend whined all night and woke us up at 7 a.m. with a barking contest to rival the dog next door. My alarm went off at 7:30.

With 4 hours of sleep for both of us, Jifo drove me to my 8-hour training for my new summer job (I can haz job yay!) He then drove all the way to White Town Richadena (bonus points if you know the real name of this town) to go to the Whole Paycheck and pick up protein-rich snacks, salads, sandwiches, and smoothies for me. He brought it all to me in a cooler and a change of shoes for my tired feet.

Best boyfriend ever.

Then we had to zip down to Cerritos for his cousin's child's 100 Day banquet (it's some Canto thing). As I enviously packed the baby's gifts, Jifo tells me, "I didn't forget Baby." He hands me a black plastic bag from which I pull...

Yes. It is. My very own Pocket Edward.

Best boyfriend I won't dump when I get to NYC ever.

(Kidding, Jifo, kidding! U+Me=4EVER...)

(What, you don't know Pocket Edward?)

Tonight we sat on the couch and flipped through trailers of movies for download through the Xbox (I'm an industry wife, what can I say) and the crazy she-bull actually calmed down enough to get sleepy. (After staying up all night whining...)

We pulled her onto our laps and held her while we watched just about every sci-fi trailer (you think it's geeky now...). After an hour we were out of the movie-watching mood, plus Jifo had to get ready for work (it's about midnight on a Saturday night, mind you), so we saved ourselves six dollars.

Now that the silly dog is acting more like Peanut Butter, I'm feeling a little better about the whole thing. Thank you guys so much for your support during my bereavement from giving up my first foster.

Annnnnd...

To top it all off, I just discovered that there will be a

Woohoot!

Since Jifo is living at work this weekend as his team gears up for their presentation at the mega geekoid video game industry convention in L.A. this week, I'll be a work widow tomorrow all night as well, and hopefully I'll remember to turn on the TV and take an hour to figure out which channel is MTV. By then, the New Moon trailer should be about to air.

If you catch me on Twitter or gchat, remind me to blog live about the first peek at New Moon!

Current time: 1:48 a.m.

Not Peanut Butter

The crying's stopped, at least.

What is that advice you give to people who've recently broken up? "Get back out there! Plenty of dogs in the pound!"

So I agreed to take a dog for the weekend whose foster was going out of town. Another pit mix, smaller than my son and younger by a year. She's striped like a tiger and has white paws, like my son.

She has giardia and has to wear a head cone so she won't lick her butt.

"She's so cute, you're gonna love her," the rescue coordinator enthused.

An hour of throwing water bottles (a cheap toy), shooing her off the bed repeatedly, and watching her eat every teeny piece of food off Selena's carpet and kitchen, I want to lay down. I can't even put her in the flimsy portable kennel, which she basically attempts to walk with while shut inside.

And my heart aches.

It's that first date you go on after you lose your soulmate and you want to like this new person, but you reach out with a joke or a light hand and they don't get it or they're awkward or stand-offish and you're left feeling hollow, struck with just how UNlike your love they are. And then the comparisons begin.

She's not hyper smart like Peanut Butter, whom I could train almost telepathically.
She doesn't come when you sit down, sinking into your arms and plopping onto your lap.
She's not soulful, doesn't look deeply into your eyes and hold your gaze, dog to human.
She doesn't look up to make sure I'm okay, that I'm there.
She's not timid, picky with her food. She'll eat anything. ANYTHING.
She's doesn't care if you walk out of the room.

She's just a dog.

And just once, when she came to finally lie by me with her water bottle and sat still enough for me to pet her, the crust around the blister on my heart crumbled and I discovered the tears are not over.

So Easy A Real Housewife Can Get In

From the Twittersphere:





How A Real Housewife Got Into Columbia

Great.

Round 3
J-school: -1
MFA: -2

For the record, I did not apply to Columbia, so haw haw.
And their General Studies is akin to NYU Gallatin or Harvard's Ed School. (Or Kennedy School, but we have to whisper that part)

In Praise of Peanut Butter

Well, my foster son, Peanut Butter, has found a home.

I remember images of him: rounding the corner on a walk with his foster daddy, looking so small despite his big head. He was cautious when he saw me; it was dark, but when I crouched and he recognized my shape, he bounded over to me, dragging Jifo behind him on the leash.

I remember how timid and wide-eyed he looked in the back of Jifo's car, the afternoon we brought him home.

Yes, I cry. So I try not to remember, but the memories must come, mustn't they, so I can work them through?

It feels so sudden - last week Jifo dropped him off at the vet's for his neuter at last (that kid had the biggest damn balls I've seen west of the Mississippi - on a dog! on a dog!) and we went off to Monterey for Memorial Day. Next thing you know, a couple wants him, but they haven't moved into their new house yet, so the gosh darned coordinator of our rescue group is actually test-trying him out for keeps! That's how precious this kid is.

We haven't seen him since.

Of course my heart suffers. I have never felt a love like this, where I am happy for someone even as I ache in their absence. I'm going to see him one last time tomorrow, and I'll also be going to the vet to meet the new rescues we pulled from the Mojave desert hoarder, one of whom I'll hopefully take home to foster on Friday. Jifo reminds me how cute I'll think the new guy is.

But no one can fill that place your first dog leaves. I nursed this baby boy from distemper and death and after tomorrow, I may never kiss him again. I will always be his first mommy. It is his picture still on my phone. And I can't believe it's over.

This is an experience I asked for, before I knew what it would even be. And I will never be the same.

Blame the Dead Guy

A commenter has just informed us that David Foster Wallace did indeed get an MFA. There you go.

David Foster Wallace is the reason I won't be getting an MFA.

Round 2
J-school: 0
MFA: -2

The Curse of MFA Writing

The story so far: the journalism-school bound me has a furious case of envy over my alumni writing group colleague who is MFA-bound (with an even better scholarship than mine). I am now agonized by the feeling that I should be following my real passion and getting an MFA instead.

I've come upon two realizations by now.

First:
Yup, I would rather be getting an MFA. I want an MFA. I'd rather be writing novels than reporting. Reading stories and writing them is my passion and God-given gift. And now I feel like a putz who got off track, all because of my need to please my critical, practical Chinese father.

Second:
I then remembered something somewhat important - I quite dislike MFA writing. Literary magazines hold ZERO appeal to me. I find quite a bit of "literary fiction" to sound exactly the same, have the same cadence, and overuse the verb forms of "arc." I'm not a fan of "experimental" writing and after that requisite teenage phase of form over content, I am now a devotee of plot and story over David Foster Wallace theatrics. I hate David Foster Wallace's masturbation writing. I know, I don't think he has an MFA, but his writing exemplifies what I think pretentious people think is good.

And most of all, I hate short stories.

Just when I thought I reached my pinnacle of jealousy and regret over not getting an MFA, I followed a comment on the legendary MFA Blog to the blog of an MFA-bound gal whose writing bored me to vomiting. And I remembered why I liked the writing of my non-MFA friends and teachers much better.

Round 1
J-school: 0
MFA: -1

To MFA or Not to MFA?

My Saturn is returning.

My boyfriend's crowd might think that someone was giving a sedan back to me, but other woo-woo types like me know it means this issue-illuminating planet is journeying back to the spot in the sky it occupied when I was born.

During this time, people question their commitments - mainly relationships, purpose, and career paths. Women especially introspect about their daddy issues. Boy do we have daddy issues. Jobs end, people divorce or marry. Hell, given the economic situation it looks like the whole country is going through a Saturn return.

Of the barrage of crises that plagues me during this time, the most recent is the forever question: do I get an MFA or not?

My view towards the MFA has evolved over the years. In my early twenties, friends asked why I didn't go for one. "Because I don't want to be unemployed!" I scoffed.

Lately, I've grown to see an MFA as a luxury I can't afford until I become a rich housewife and retire from my "real job".

Now I realize it's something I'm afraid to do because it will be admitting, once again, that I am, after all, an artist. And that means confronting, once again, the knowledge that my father will never accept this about me.

It might mean a lifetime of living under his disapproval (a lifetime, that is, until my book is turned into a multimillion dollar film, of course).

I'm heading to journalism school in the fall. Though it was my initial idea, I applied because my father pushed me to. I'm going because I have a scholarship and it will let me live in the damn expensive city I love before I turn 30.

But inside I'm asking, "Do I really want the MFA? Can I get it later or is that just putting off my dreams again?"

What do you think? To MFA or not to MFA?

To see what some authors think, check out my novel's page.

Geezeo, I'm Leaving You For Mint

I stayed as long as I could.

I've been with Geezeo for a long time, as online personal finance sites go. Exactly one year ago come Friday, I asked for the first time, Geezeo or Wesabe? Geezeo, with its IKEA-like blocky, brightly colored budget buttons, stood out as the clear winner and I gave them my passwords and log in information so I could finally see all my money, all in one place.

I stuck with them through a bumpy and protracted site overhaul, during which Founder and CEO Peter Glyman singlehandedly held onto my "business" (it's free) by gchatting me periodically and asking for my input.

Even though I hated the new site design, I continued to use them because

1) I was lazy

2) Pete's beyond compare customer service skills.

So even though I'm leaving them now, I urge companies to take note: if you want to attract and keep customers who will write good reviews about you, be like Pete.

He's accessible, friendly, and quick to take action. If I need to talk to him, I can twitter or email him. If I have a Geezeo issue, I can instantly message the always courteous Ruthann DeGutis, who is on gchat throughout the work day. Pete's twitter humanizes him, with observations of his commute to work and interesting links.

When I (hopefully) become a CEO one day, I'm going to practice the Glyman Style of Client Relations. Unfortunately, great customer service did not translate to product. The new site is cluttered, constantly buggy (get a new Java/flash coder!), and they've lost, along with my loving feeling, features I used to praise them for.

Geezeo won the first round against Wesabe because of their product. And they're losing this second round to Mint for the same reason.

Mint And Me

I was Stumbling last night (anyone still use that?) and suddenly a big green Viviti-like page splashed onto my screen. It was Mint.

They were the underdogs in my Geezeo and Wesabe battle last May, early to the online personal finance game but still working out kinks.

Boy have they worked it out! They must have had a plastic surgeon better than Hollywood's finest.

All the things I liked about Geezeo: simplicity, clarity, and a well-oiled interface, have appeared on Mint.

The site is sleek and visually pleasing, in tender pastels featuring - of course - a minty green background. I could tell with a quick glance that the home page had everything I wanted, yet managed to remain uncluttered and easy to delineate. Right in front of your face is the budget, which is the main feature I look for in an online personal finance site. To the side are my accounts with balances updated each time I log on. Below them are my assets, minus my debts, and my total net worth. (My pet peeve with Geezeo was not knowing how much I had versus how much I owed - they merely showed the total net, constantly causing me to panic that I had so little money.) The cash flow is further below my net worth, with idiot-proof red and green bars to show what's going in and what's coming out.

As a bonus, they have a link on the overview to Ways To Save, one of the best features of Mint. For those of us who comparison shop and pinch every percent and penny, Mint does the legwork by showing you other credit cards, bank accounts, and brokerages that might have a better deal, given your spending patterns on Mint. This is also the key to how the site remains free of advertising - if you do happen to switch to these new companies based on their recommendations, Mint gets a commission.

Though it was 2 in the morning, I quickly entered in most of my bank accounts and went to sleep. I woke this morning with an email from Mint already reminding me that my credit card payment was due soon. The switch over has been seamless, though I've spent a bit of time playing with the tags, another function with which they blow Geezeo out of the water in terms of ease and anti-bugginess. (With something as simple as being able to use multiple word tags, instead of one word.)

If anything goes wrong with Mint once this green-hazed honeymoon is over, you'll be the first to know, but I foresee smooth sailing from here on out.

Wolverine + Sabretooth Porn Day for the Lesbros

Note: this post is clean, but the link at the end leads to a page you don't want to open at the office, unless you work in the San Fernando Valley.

Selena and I had one of our best Lesbro Dates today: a Wolverine matinee, replete with free food from, um, Starbucks, using a gift card of hers. Hey it was free!

The movie was

H.O.T.

and not the Korean boy band.

Hotter than that.

Was that film a circle jerk for the girls or what? Huge Jackedman with his great, albeit white, ass. That hot as hell Korean (Hapa? Adopted by white people?) who played Zero. I frickin' even loved the way Sabretooth runs (he must have agile hip joints).

We were not the only lady pair in the theater squealing every time Sexy rippled his biceps, lemme tell you.

One thing that confuses both of us is the inability for straight men to see (or is it admit?) the blatant homoeroticism in Wolverine. So I'm going to set you straight gay right now. For anyone who cannot see that this film was, at last, for the ladies, please visit this very talented artist, then come back.

See? Hot hunh?

Oh, NSFW, btw.

Ragoo is Fifty-Two

I just added the 52nd song to my blog soundtrack: "Ragoo" by Kings of Leon!

This was a surprise find while I was searching for that song that's on the radio all the time now. I just love the desperate sound to Caleb Followill's voice, much like that of the singer from Buckcherry. Their voices make me feel like a teenager in my panties.

I'm not sure if I've pointed your attention so directly to my playlist before, but that red box above is not just a space-taker-upper. It is the soundtrack to this blog and it follows the progression of my life. The songs get updated almost as regularly as 52 Faces does either to reflect an event (check out all the "wish you well" type songs during the brief breakup with Jifo), a new discovery (most likely something I heard on Grey's Anatomy), or a current emotional state.

Now who wants to be my big 2-0 follower?

(Yeah I said teenager in my panties.)

The 2009 Local Library Challenge

Completed November 2009!

Who loves libraries as much as I do?

Books, movies, and Chinese Food does; she pointed me to J. Kaye's challenge - read 12, 25, or 50 books from your local library this year! (Choose your own hardcore-ness)

Since I don't believe in paying for...well, anything, libraries are my best friend in the whole world. Yes, more than Selena. Just kidding, lesbro! (Can libraries be my Lesbook?)

I'm not sure I remember all the books I already got from the library this year, so if you remember me reading something not on the list, let me know. I will keep updating this list.

I'll be doing the 25 Library Books Challenge! (hey look, it's the reverse of 52!)

1) The Watchmenby Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons
2) Inkheart by Cornelia Funke
3) The Intimate Act Of Choreography by Lynne Anne Blom and L. Tarin Chaplin
4) Book of a Thousand Days by Shannon Hale
5) Kampung Boy by Lat
6) The Arrival by Shaun Tan
7) The Soloist by Steve Lopez
8) Dead Until Dark (Southern Vampire Mysteries, Book 1) by Charlaine Harris
9) American Beauty (A-List #7) by Zoey Dean
10) The Goose Girl (The Books of Bayern) by Shannon Hale
11) Living Dead in Dallas (Southern Vampire Mysteries, Book 2) by Charlaine Harris
12) Enna Burning (The Books of Bayern) by Shannon Hale
13) River Secrets (The Books of Bayern) by Shannon Hale
14) Princess Academy by Shannon Hale (I'm on a kick)
15) Rapunzel's Revenge by Shannon AND Dean Hale (her hubby)
16) The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamillo
17) Club Dead (Southern Vampire Mysteries, Book 3) by Charlaine Harris
FINALLY!! It took months and several people involved to obtain this.
UPDATE - so worth it! Book 3 was the best - and surprisingly hilarious!
18) Heart of Glass (A-List #8) by Zoey Dean
19) Dead to the World (Southern Vampire Mysteries, Book 4) by Charlaine Harris
20) All Together Dead (Sookie Stackhouse Book 7) by Charlaine Harris
this one was gooood
21) From Dead to Worse (Southern Vampire Mysteries, Book 8) by Charlaine Harris
22) Dead and Gone (Southern Vampire Mysteries, Book 9) by Charlaine Harris
23) The People of Sparks (Books of Ember) by Jeanne du Prau
24) Love & Lies: Marisol's Story by Ellen Wittlinger
Hard Love was one of my favorite books of all time - this is the lesbo's continuation of the story (didn't like it as much)
25) Ida B: . . . and Her Plans to Maximize Fun, Avoid Disaster, and (Possibly) Save the World by Katherine Hannigan
the only book I ever took out of the library and then realized I'd already taken it out before

And we're done!

Weekly Photo Challenge: Casual

My LesBro Selena, in her usual habitat.
Yes, that is a giant Domokun lying above the famous Fluff.

part of Photo Friday