Extra Mile

Tonight we finished the Costco tub of peanut butter filled pretzels. I already miss them. It was a quiet night of grading. At about nine Bisque started lacing his sneaks for a run and asked if I wanted to join. It is particularly perfect fall evening, so I did. I mentioned as we passed the harbor how nice it is that I can run three miles just because. That's not something I could always do. In fact, until about five years ago, running three miles would be a pretty sizable challenge for me. It is really hard to understand how that was ever possible because it's just a half hour activity! Why did I ever think jogging for half an hour is something to fear? There are 48 half hours in a day. I do so many things for half an hour. Why didn't I see running could easily be one of them?

I am obviously a big proponent of exercise. I think it improves basically every aspect of one's life. Duh: physical health, mental health, time to relax, whate'r. But since moving to the city I have been very conscious of how my exercise regimen allows me to go the extra mile in a literal sense. When the bus is coming, I can run to catch it. When it's time to pick a dinner place, I don't feel like I have to stay on on block. I'll walk and walk and walk to get what I want. It wouldn't occur to me to stay in because I am tired of climbing stairs--even though by going out I am guaranteeing I'll have to do the three flights yet again. I'm down.

Mine and Yours

Woke up Sunday morning, stomach raging. I had planned to run but could only walk.  I took my time in Dizz's neighborhood. It's a nice place. That afternoon, after the schmancy brunch, after couchin', after chocolate almond bubble tea, we walked again. Dizz and I led the way, the boys trailed behind. I imagined Jamin asking Bisque "What are your intensions?" but actually they were probably yammering about Grand Theft Auto while Dizz explained how once at a wedding she led a miniature horse down the aisle. (Our lives are so different! Friendship!) I said she lived in a pretty place, and she said, "You have to take the good with the bad. The sidewalk...is cracked. But the palm trees? They are beautiful."

LA can be very bright. But also, sometimes you are going to a wedding in an hour and very angry at a gas station because there was serious miscommunication about whether or not you need to pre-pay and there are people everywhere and it is also dirty and honking is a thing. But then you, like, do get to the wedding and there was plenty of time and you look fine and you dance your booty off with your date.

This looks like a glob, but in all actuality it is one of the best desserts I've ever eaten. A chocolate peanut salted caramel bar, like, give me one for the rest of my life. There was literally a part of the night everyone was on the dance floor yelling at me and Bisque to get up and shake it, but we kept using our forks to point to the dessert the guy next to us didn't eat which we were consuming. We shrugged and mimed kind of: "Sorry? Dessert and stuff!"

As usual, it is hard not to think about love at these things. I know the couple but not that well. This is the first time I've been a weddin' date, and I have to say, it's interesting. I came to support something I'm not sure if I agree with at all. Who is to say these two are together foreva? But actually, being there made me believe it. It was just a buncha words--often simple, at times generic...but sincere. And now when I see the newlyweds around I will think that. I will think, "Yes, I believe in you and I hope it's going well."

On Sunday night we made our way to the ocean as we believe good lil travelers should do. It's just a buncha stupid water, but, my, do I love it.

Meanwhile, I shared a bathroom with my college bestie all weekend. Forever! I say.

Peanut Butter Pop-Tarts!

Well, two of my favorite food items in the world have combined. Please fill my coffin with Pop-Tarts Gone Nutty! I am kidding. Cremation is better for the environment. But sprinkle some crumbs in my urn!

It feels like winning the Willy Wonka golden ticket when you open the box!

 Both Tarts are an A. Period. Soft pastry shell with delightful-quality pb inside. That's an A.

The regular pb tart has no icing. However, it kind of helps me feel like I'm not eating a processed dessert for breakfast. The chocolate tart is just, well, a joy to have in class. I don't want to say I am in love with these snacks, but, let me put it this way: if I had to marry a toaster pastry, I would marry the choco pb Pop-Tart. Well, let me put it this way: if I could marry a toaster pastry, I would marry the choco pb Pop-Tart. And I would become a widow during the reception.

Haunting

When I die I'm coming back as a ghost. I'll be at the help desk and the lady will say, "Now, if you take our basic package, you spend some time in purgatory and then eventually head on up. Or, for a premium we can send you express to heaven--"
"What about your ghost options?"
"Well, we usually reserve that for our embittered or rage-filled guests--"
"Sure, but I am just really interested--"
"According to your file, Ms. _______, we have heaven as...a giant trampoline made of Peeps? You're not interested?"
"I just really like ghosts is the thing."
She sighs, "Well, let me get my manager over here. And! You know you don't get any powers, right?"
"Not even ceramic skills?"
"Ha. Ha."
"And I have hungered for yooooour touch--"
"Yeah. You and every other person that comes through this office. Look. You want the haunting program director or not?"

My sister and I visited the cemetery for people who have died trying to climb Mount McKinley. (Some years two, some eight. In 2002 three brothers all together--27, 21, and 15.) I liked being there. I told her--my sister, I mean--that she will know my spirit remains because I'll be blowing on her with peanut butter breath for all eternity. I tell this to Bisque and he says he'll find my face in a burnt marshmallow--like a Jesus watermark. I tweet that and Shells counters, No, a Pop-Tart. Options.

AliceSr and I went on a ghost tour of Anchorage on Sunday. A woman committed suicide in the bathroom of the hotel we were staying in. Apparently something would snatch at women's ankles and shake walls until the stall was locked permanently. The chicas on the tour trickled in, took photos. One announced, "It smells like blood! It smells like blood!" and I rolled my eyes. It often smells like blood in the ladies room.

You flew out on a plane,
came crashing into the ocean,
and then you haunted me.
Don't have a clue what's the motion,
so every now and then it feels so soothing
when you float on a bit and move right though me.

A Photo I Wish I Had

Ro and I sitting on my front porch at night. A basket between us. Cartoon chicks on the edges. Pink handle. She's smoking a cigarette. I'm nibbling at a tiny coated peanut butter egg.

(Insert.)

Grinch's Log: Entry #0007

Shells' gift. Filled with pb.

The days are long and full of sugar, artificial heat. Stir crazy is setting in. 7th day in my sister's tiny apartment. First mate Char keeping up the morale, but also falling asleep pretty regularly. Henchman Pookie on KP--washing dishes with lightening speed from the multiple entrees of pie and mallomars I am consuming at breakneck pace.

Journeyed to a local cinema to see a buffalo nickel movie yesterday. Ironically, we chose Argo, you know, the one about the hostages. Hitting too close to home. In other news, still hating the cold, snow, being indoors, having to drive everywhere, and, of course, Christmas in general.

Waiting for heart growth steroids. Worried will not arrive based on holiday parcel traffic. Fear for my henchman and first mate. Their souls are subject to my bitter seasonal rage, anxiety, and moodiness. Over and out.

Gay Ads, Whatever It Takes, Asberg Movie Endings, Packing (Or Not), Unique Dinner

1. I can't think of any advertisements featuring a gay couple. Obvi, no brand wants to be known as "The Laundry Detergent for Gays!" but, really, come on. Every faux group at an advertised restaurant looks like the freakin' UN. Can we get some gay love up in here or what?

2. I love Degrassi.

3. Another long day at the testing center--beginning with a very long conversation with a student with Asbergers. His thesis: Twilight is a bad movie. Later he told me his favorite movies and wanted to tell me the end of them all. I said "Oh, no! Please don't." And he literally said, "I have to. I have to tell you." For someone who doesn't even like watching movie previews, this clearly disturbed me. Eventually, he started talking about who should be allowed to create art in this world (not serial killers). And I actually have a really strong opinion about this...and I just started to get so upset. KID, STOP TALKING OVER ME AND STOP SAYING SOME PEOPLE DON'T DESERVE TO PAINT AND STOP SAYING JOHN WAYNE GACY IS THE WORST BECAUSE MEANWHILE THERE IS A MEAT INDUSTRY. So, I got short and started texting obviously as if to say This Convo Is Finito. And he got the hint after a few more attempts at conversation, and then he started talking to someone else. I don't know, am I horrible? I just...I just think even if you have a mental issue, you still shouldn't decide if someone else with a sicker mental issue is allowed to paint or not.

4. I do not want to pack even though I am quite excited to be in California tomorrow for family holiday reunion bonanza bash explosion party woop woop! Nope. Even that ridic string of shindig vocab did not enthuse me to pack.

5. Dinner: Wheat tortilla, spread with peanut cashew almond butter, stuffed with broccoli. Iron Chef--literally. So much iron.

Horrible Notes in My Theatre History Notebook

Marg. Two weeks ago.

One thing about me is that I write a lot. I write in this blog daily. I write in a gratitude journal every morning, a normal journal at night. I write academic papers. I write full-length plays for seminar. I write at least one new sketch every week. I write essays for an online journal somewhat frequently. I am working on several short stories, little scenelets, I write a very long e-mail to Muff every Tuesday, and short e-mails to my sister every evening. I write stand-up in my head, I write long feedback to my students on the back of their screenplays, I write letters to Sabra hummus and they send me coupons for being a grateful consumer. The writing never ends--even when I'm just listening in class--ESPECIALLY when I'm just listening in class.

Being a comedian, it's not weird for me to put my hands in the pouch of my navy hoody and find a yellow post-it that reads, "Ain't no party like the Donner party." Some joke I felt I NEEDED to remember. (This happened to me today.)

I recently flipped through my semester's notes for Theatre History and found some horrible/weird/wonderful stuff. Here are some snippets:

-It's weird Chinese people work so hard when they don't even have a God to please.
-Whatever happened to survival of the fittest? If you've got a peanut allergy, shouldn't you just die?
-Why do I love the Luhrman R + J so freaking much?
-"It's amazing, and then we write it down, and it's in a book, and it becomes a quiz question: 'what is epic theatre?'"--Prof
-Who decides what is "dominant?"
-Is travel even real?!
-I think you need to understand you only know what's in your head, but that's all anyone knows, so you're entitled to your opinions, as long as you know it's only that.
-Always ask, "Says who?"

Legit. I thought all of these ideas were so important I HAD TO write them down.

Straight up, what did you hope to learn about here?
If I was someone else would this all fall apart?

AZ State Fair & One Kay Quote

In other news, my mom, her sistah, and I went to the AZ State Fair this afternoon. It was a grand ol' time.
Fried Food I Tried: oreo, peanut butter, Twinkie, Snickers, and peach (The peach was my favorite, and it is pictured below.)





"Are you seriously going to try to argue with me that the deep-fried cheese you just ate was healthy?"--Kay to me, Illinois State Fair 2010




Everyday it's a-gettin' closer,
goin' faster than a roller coaster.
Love like yours will surely come my way--
a-hey, a-hey-hey.