I need all of you, to stop what you’re doing and listen.

Cannonball!

(sorry.  couldn’t resist)

actually: the breaking news is this:

sunny d is engaged.  to a very good egg. 

karma is real!!!

figwit dances when he’s angry.

**spoiler alert**

only nerds of the highest order will even be able to understand this post, much less appreciate it.

i have recently, and belatedly, discovered and fallen in love with the flight of the conchords.  this may surprise some of you that know me and my absolute inability to tolerate spontaneous singing interspersed in storytelling- comedic or dramatic.  it’s nearly an allergy and it’s thisclose to requiring an epipen when encountered in large or especially egregious doses.

the wonder of all life, of course, is the exception to these hard and fast rules.  usually when something is so exaggerated it becomes sublime.  like moulin rouge.  or the aforementioned duo from new zealand.  of course, watching the first episode when having just returned from new zealand helps, not to mention tobey, murray’s bulldog (nice surprise in ep. 11).  the sillyness, the cleverness, the absolute adorable leads, it all adds up to pure magic.

now, most of my friends of the female persuasion love jemain, who is sort of the main guy, but i, friends, i heart bret.  he’s just so unassuming and adorable.  and compact.  with amazing sweaters.  and the sign-holding mentality.  plus, his hiphop alter ego, rhymenoscerous, and homage to footloose in the last episode are amazing.  and hilarious.  and subtle.  just like him.  sigh.

when espousing the many merits of bret mckenzie (not at the expense of the ridiculous muesli-loving perfectly dead-pan jemain clement), i was informed that part of what makes the show even funnier and self-referential is that young mr. mckenzie was actually in lord of the rings, the pride, glory, and singular export (facetious) of their native land.  he played an elf with one line in Return of the King.  “Elf Escort” is his official credit.  awesome.  i love it.  and also, it makes me giggle because my friends sometimes use “watching lord of the rings” as a euphemism for geek love.  fine, it only applies to me, but they do, too.

imagine my utter glee when entering my new office (that of the ringwraith) and noticing a screen grab of Bret as an elf in Return of the King taped to my wall.  i pointed this out to a co-worker who duly informed me that Mr. Elf Escort is somewhat of a LOTR nerd-dom phenomenon.  Before the movie was released, before Flight of the Conchords, fans became obsessed with this background character in the first installment- Fellowship of the Ring.  He said nothing, yet he captivated many.  They apparently cried out: “

Frodo

Is

Great…

Who

Is

That?”

hence, the moniker Figwit.  He has fans.  He has websites.  He has figures (got one on my desk).  Jealous?!

I guess I’m writing this to point this out to the two or three other fans who somehow missed this phenomenon.

Or maybe, I’m concerned because I think my new office might be like 1st and 1st; the nexus of the universe.  I bring this up in case I disappear without a trace one day.

Check for a worm hole under my desk.

he’s the boom boom king.

heeeeeeeeee.  Today, 22nd September 2009, marks the 1 year anniversary of the day I saw Bret “FIGWIT” Mc Kenzie having dinner at Arturo’s on Houston.  The old school wood-fired pizza is amazing.  I had just finished up a birthday dinner for Ms. Savory and was walking out when I saw him in his oh-so-FOTC striped sweater and scarf sitting in a booth near the front.  His back was to the door, so I looked right at him and did one of those spin-around-my-pack-of-friends move muttering “ohmygodit’sbretohmygodit’sbretohmygodit’sbret” and then running out the door*.  I started jumping up and down in front of the joint clapping, saying “YAY” and trying to explain my excitement to the crowd I was with- not so much on FOTC or LOTR. In any case, the two women sitting across from him saw me and started laughing, and told him, who also started laughing.  Joy.  I made the Rhymenocerous laugh.  Yay!
*After my world famous Liam Neeson incident, I never, ever try and interact with celebrities, especially when they’re at dinner, and doubly especially if I like them and don’t want to know that they’re gross.

ricky nelson, i salute you

enough of the brain problems, back to the fun.

we went back to the temple bar again the last night.  we’d gone to see casa mila (la pedrera) late in the afternoon and hadn’t accomplished much else that day.  because, as i explained to cs, that we had a problem.  we couldn’t leave our hovel because the sun was out there.  despite all this and our well-laid plans to go to bed early for our early flights, cs declared that it we had to go out that night.  it was our last night.  no fighting that logic.

we met up with the hilarious irish girl we’d seen the previous two nights and her cohorts.  she’d gathered some boys from roscommon and they asked us to join their group.  they twisted our arms by buying us a couple of pints of fat frogs and then two baby guinness shots.  i have since determined they were evil plants from the planet of teaching responsibility through reverse psychology.  just when i thought i was doomed to sink into an irish hole of drunk, maurizio showed up!  huzzah!  david was not with him.  boo!

maurizio came because he thought david might show- they have a very informal friendship and just meet up there sometimes.  he and cs bonded about italy, amongst other things, i’m sure, while i pined and wished for my imaginary boyfriend* to show.  alas, he never did.  to buoy my spirits, maurizio told cs a secret: david thought i was cute and tried to call me the previous night.  unfortunately, he only had my office number and not my blackberry.  curs-ed fates!

we all went off to find a disco and with maurizio’s guidance, found one on las ramblas, relieving us of a long cab ride to porto olympico and an 18 euro cover.  he couldn’t join us because he had serious research work to do in the morning.  we bid him a warm adieu and followed the irish upstairs.  of course there were many swirling, twirling lights on the dance floor, so cs and i hung at the bar.  it was hot.  i turn my head for one second and when i look back, cs is talking to three fine looking, but barely post adolescent, boys: jose uno, jose dos and alex.  and they were from?  tenerife.  seriously. we had to fly 2247 km (1,396 miles for those of you on the SI system) to find natives of tenerife.  it was no hoax.  they showed me their papers.

though they were all cute, and cs had her weary eyes on jose uno, we realized we didn’t want to be there.  we didn’t want another drink.  we were tired of sweating and breathing in the musty air.  we were tired period.  we decided to head home. 

on the way, we passed the slightly unhinged israeli girl we’d ditched on the way to the disco (mostly at the irish’s urging.  but they were right.  she was kind of crazy.  and very intense).  she was talking to a nigerian man selling trinkets on las ramblas.  we trudged up to our hole for the final time so i could pass out for a few hours and cs could shower in time for her flight to roma.

i left the next day and had smooth, uneventful flights home.  on a lark, i checked my email.  god is good, folks, because i had an email from the catalan waiting.  he wanted to know if i was going back to the bar that night- he’d run into maurizio who told him he’d seen us the night before and he wanted to see me (sniffle).   he wrote that he’d wanted to spend the night with me the other night and tried to follow us to the disco (sob).

unfortunately, i was now back at home, 6169 km away (hysterics).

i wrote him back and told him all this.  he said he was leaving on holiday that day, but would be on messenger at 22h on 2nd september.

sigh.  a girl has to have dreams, i guess.

so now, i’ve decided my immediate life goal is to emulate ricky nelson and have a man in every port.  this trip was a good start towards that end.

 oh, and BMW came over the day after i got home.  a girl has to eat.  more than once a month, too. 

*he’s an actual person of course, just not my boyfriend.  not yet, people, not yet. mwahaha mwahaha (curling imaginary** handlebar mustache). 

** the mustache is not real.  not since we went to el corte ingles, anyway.  zing!

homage to catalan(ia)

y’all, life was rough on saturday.  we got up around noon and decided to suck it up get some fucking french toast.  really, tortilla and cafe, but it helped sober us up.  it was time to sight see.

we wandered over to the picasso museum and surveyed its massive line and opted for the gift shop instead.  it was way too hot to stand there and since i’d already been, cs thought we should do some more wandering and head towards sagrada familia.  what i didn’t know until that moment is that ‘wandering’ means ‘buy lots of bags’ where cs lewis comes from, which is viriginia beach in case you were wondering (holla saltdogs and navy seals).  our long, scenic and scorching hot walk was broken by the comic relief of calling home to talk to cs lewis’s mother, ma weber.  she’s a lovely woman, and quite fun to party with, but she’s out of her mind.  i literally spit water all over the sidewalk listening to just cs’s half of the conversation.  which reminds me, if you have the means, hop on down to club web in vb, it’s a great experience.  book ahead, though, that place fills up.  especially when there’s a steel drum band scheduled for the weekend.

i digress.  in an unbelievable turn of events, there was no line to get into the cathedral, so we gladly pay the 8 euro to go inside.  i was pleased to see cs was as blown away as i am by this sublime monument and we took our time soaking in the beauty and divinity.  it truly is amazing.  i was also impressed by how much had been done in the ten years since i was first blessed by the sight of it.  putting it into context, it was started in 1883, so that much progress in a single decade was remarkable.  i can’t wait to attend a sunday service there one day, and have hope and faith i will have the opportunity in my lifetime.

we walked back by heading down calle mallorca towards casa mila or la pedrera, where the line equalled that of picassos museum.  knowing we had time tomorrow, we opted to come back and enjoy a stroll down la passeig de gracia. 

we hooked a left at plaza catalunya and headed back to the hostel, where my duty as the “official arbiter of cs’s spending habits on souvenirs” was put to its strongest test yet.

we relaxed, showered, and headed to bar gaudi for dinner, which is located two doors from our hostel.  knowing cs and me, going somewhere so close is shocking, absolutely shocking, but it’s true. 

the reason this is relevant is because the guy that stands outside and solicits patrons had been trying to get us to eat there for the last 36 hours.  he was pleased to lead us to a table where we enjoyed an amazing dinner, as well as the company of our waiter, tomate (i’ll explain later) who was quite taken with my face and language abilities.  i was too taken with my artichokes from the oven to notice, so his asking me out later went totally unnoticed.  i’m spastic, yes, but i blame this stupidity on these artichokes.  i was seriously picturing me in a wedding dress and las alcochofas in a tux and cummerbun.

leaving, we told the guy outside that it was great and i said “si podria casarme con las alcochofas, lo hare.”  it took me at least a half hour to put the subjunctive for that together correctly.  instead of applause at my proper tenses, he said “que bueno.  me llamo alcochofa.  do you want to be married and live here or in new york.”  he then told us he got off at two.

we smiled and wandered off for another pub crawl, which ended you’llneverguesswhere: the temple bar.  the scene of last night’s crime.  or the inception and planning of the crime, anyway.  we didn’t return in the hopes of meeting up with johhny b good’s stag do, so we weren’t disappointed to not see them there.  in short order, cs was chatting up a pack of scots and i was talking to maurizio (a venetian phd student in town to study) and david (tall, dark, handsome, catalan).  love. at. first. sight.

we were contentedly talking to our prospective prospects when the next thing i know, plan b is back and dressed like a school boy.  following closely behind was the rest of the crew in identical ensembles, replete with johnny in full harry potter costumes.  hilarious.  i didn’t see rio grande at first, which was fine, because david was a piece of pixie dust combined with a dream and i was happy as a clam where i was.  eventually, cs got folded into the stag do once again, but i resisted, excepting a brief interaction with justin timberlake junior (where was that guy last night???).  i finally noticed rio, who was squarely ignoring me (boo! bad form!).  we made eye contact later, i waved, he mouthed that he was really drunk and that was pretty much that.

after a few more hours of this, cs’s new paramour had talked her into going to port olympic and the disco baja beach with the whole do.  when they were throwing us out at last call, she was in the street yelling past the bouncer, “come on, come on, we’re going to the disco.”  i asked david if he and maurizio would come with and he said he’d love to, but we had to wait until m came back from los aseos.  i waved off cs lewis and waited.  when m came back, david disappeared.  I was like “what the? i thought you guys were coming with?”  m said yes, they would come.  i told him where we were going and to meet us there since i had to go out to cs before she popped an anuerysm.  they had my card and email, so we were insured.

 i got into one of the cabs and headed down to port olympic with the rest.  once there, i realized i’d been before and we didn’t have to pay the 18 euro cover to get in.  all we had to do was go downstairs to the beach level and grab an outside table at the disco, no cover at all.  only darren had the sense to listen to me and we scored a large table right by the doors to wait for the rest to figure it out.  eventually, herbs, jt jr, johnny, rio and plan b caught on and came to sit down.  we ordered a round, which i paid for (what the?) and still rio did not acknowledge me.  not a thanks, nothing.  i really didn’t want to be there, and was already cursing my seperation from david, so when they got up to go to the strip club down the way and asked me to join them, i begged off.  i was ready for home.  i found cs inside (still didn’t pay) and she was still chatting up the same guy.  i told her i was off and would see her later.

i got into a cab upstairs when i realized i had exactly 8 euro to my name and no idea how far i was from las ramblas, which means i had no idea how far i was going to have to trudge home.  the cabbie agreed to take me as far as the 8 would get me, which was exactly to my street, thank you jesus, st. george and the traffic-less streets of late night barcelona.

cs got home later with the guy (tim, i believe), who’d been chatting her up the whole time and planting soft, tongueless kisses on her all night.  when she asked what his hesitation was he replied “because i have a girlfriend.”  zunh.  i mean, zunh?

apparently, he kept chatting her up after that, took her home, and then asked if he could come up.  what the?  is this pretty woman?  what the fuck?

anyway, i was gutted about losing david and maurizio, but pretty annoyed by rio as well.  i didn’t go there to see him, and didn’t expect him to chat me up (though he did look disturbingly hot in his uniform) or not go home with a different girl, but some manners, please. 

luckily, david has my email.  fingers crossed.  i’ve already constructed a whirlwind trans-atlantic IM-based romance in my mind and i don’t mind telling you it’s fantastico. sigh.

it happened again.

i had another desperately sad deja vu this week when a wonderful,  gorgeous, funny, nice guy i work with asked about my boyfriend and when i said  i had nothing, he couldn’t believe it.  he was shocked that i’m single and told me that all the guys on his team think i’m the coolest.  he couldn’t imagine a world in which i was single.  if he wasn’t engaged…

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
 
it wasn’t sleazy, and i know he meant it as a compliment, but i really hate it when they say that.

but, it’s not just me. 

a lovely, fun and beautiful friend of mine, ms. savory, has had her share of troubles.  she was telling me just last night that she met this funny, nice guy who was pursuing her.  they had talked about maybe taking a next step towards exclusivity and after spending a few fun and margarita filled hours with me at our hell’s kitchen local discussing rimmers with our flirty, friendly, irish bartender, she went off to meet him so they could make the advances they’d discussed.

fast forward to this morning.  i receive a text from ms. savory:

last night he asked me if i wanted to be exclusive and take the next step.  i said yes.  then he said his ex moved back on tuesday and they’re giving it another shot.

no shit.

i mean what the?  why’d he ask? 

me confused.

when the good ‘ship sails

it is so much harder than walking away from a best friend than a boyfriend (girlfriend), no?  there can be something so much more intimate about a true, close friendship than a romantic relationship.

for one thing, a truly good friend really likes you for who you are.  they appreciate you for you.  that’s why they’re here. 

think about how many couples you know who love each other, but don’t really like each other.  you know the ones, “honey, don’t do that.”  “baby, that’s not funny.” “oh, not this again.” 

friends also support you in a way that a significant other often cannot.   they don’t have an agenda for you other than your happiness and/or well being.  it’s not about them.  it’s about you.

i’m talking true friendships, not co-dependencies, people-habits (e.g. you grew up with them, they’re not so bad, etc.) or the friendly acquaintance.  they can be rarer than relationships and truer than family because you actively did something, no matter how big or small, to have them in your life. 

and realizing that the shoulder that you can always cry on has turned away, even a small degree, is a cruel, cruel reality.

jack! rose! jack! rose! doctor, insulin, stat!

In case you’re wondering, the subject line refers to the beating I took in the NCAA brackets. (Damn you Kansas!) My roommate has been dying to get me to watch Titanic for three years. Feeling cocky with my picks, I told her that if she beat me in the brackets, I’d watch it.

Now I find myself thanking God and sulfur for the special eggs I ate in Japan last week- each hard boiled egg is supposed to add seven years to your life. Because the way I figure it, the diabetes I will contract from watching three and one half hours of sickly sweet tripe may shave off a couple of years.

PLS BE MINE….U TOUCH MY SOUL

do NOT attempt to adjust your monitors. this is an actual email i got this morning from match.com. like i could make this up if i wanted to…

ahem….:

MY ANGEL FRIEND…………. i dont really know how to start off but………..you have a beautiful profile that attracted my heart. your beauty and smile captured my imagination and my heart started falling for you ,thats because Your smile has a beauty that I find in no other profile.. Your eyes hold a sexiness and a passion others can only long for. As long as my heart beats, I shall seek out your soul and be fulfilled!!!! in your beauty. definately i know that u will be a very special person in my life……just seeing ur lovely profile for the first time today…….. perhaps start been friends today might be the best thing of our lifes !!!!just know and understand my heart longs for you and Giving away a heart can hurt … . But, receiving one is the greatest gift.i cant wait to talk you…………i am online now “pls add me and lets have a chat on my YAHOO MESSANGER my ID is {nicole_hedson_04} or pls email me at nicole_hedson_04@yahoo.co.uki cant wait to hear from you..QUEINS N.H.

just a quick couple of things that stick out (everything is relative, people):

• this ‘person’ is located in the UK
• nicole hedson. is supposed to be a man. a man! now i know that in this post-gender revolution world, names can be deceiving as far as gender is concerned, plus foreigners can be weird, but, um, zunh?
• also, this is pretty clearly spam. it boggles the mind. why spam match?