Archive for April, 2010

[Not] At Your Service

I rarely ever watch movies while they’re playing in the theater. With the benefit of being a Netflix member, I just have to wait a few months longer before the movie comes out in DVD form. Which is what I’m doing with the films that were nominated for the Oscars this year.

Bearing this in mind, I’m glad I waited to see “Up in the Air”.



Ryan Bingham stays at a lot of Hilton and Hilton-brand hotels during the film. These are the hotels who provide a place for him to stay after he’s fired dozens of people as he crosses over the globe.

If I had seen this movie while I was unemployed, I think I would have lost it.

Before I was laid off, I worked for Hilton. My company had the courtesy not to hire a third party to announce my termination to my face, but I had complete empathy for the people who were fired. I’m sure my face looked like a third of those who got laid off: disbelief, followed by the emotional breakdown.

Mind you, I’m employed now. I’m still in the probation period, and with the economy being what it is, I’m not 100% confident that I can stay employed and I will not be back in a relationship with the EDD. But I’m in a better place. I can pay my bills. I go outside a little bit more. I’m learning how to socialize with non-internet based people again.

But I’ll be honest. Watching this film was like rubbing the salt ‘n’ sand paper a little bit harder in the wound.

I’m Your New Go-To Girl For Social Media

I’ve only been at this gig for two weeks and some change and I’ve already got a promotion: I’m now in charge of being the social media liaison for my company.

No, really. I can legitimately work on Twitter and Facebook, just under a different name.

To be honest, I think Twitter may have been the clincher in my interview. I had mentioned going to tweetups and meeting all kinds of friends because of our 140-character acquaintance, and my future bosses got really excited.

So now I’ve got a project on my hands and I’m going to have to network like I’ve never networked before.

Sweet Sixteen

Today would have been my labrador retriever’s sixteenth birthday. You can retrace his life in this blog post.

I know some of you think I’m crazy for counting birthdays after his passing, but I still count birthdays for everyone special who has been in my life. I still acknowledge my golden retriever’s birthday; last December he would have been thirty. I blame my mom for this trait – she still notes birthdays and anniversaries of everyone she ever knew (even the ones who have been gone for twenty plus years).

Happy Birthday, Murphy Parker. I’m sorry I couldn’t remember the exact date for the first five or so years of your life, but I never personally filed my own taxes until I turned 19, so I wasn’t aware of the April 15th date and that your birthday would proceed it by just a day. But you know I love you lots.

Murphy's 14th birthday

This Gives Eau De Toilette A Whole New Meaning

I’m catching up on my Kevin and Bean podcasts for the week. My new place of employment is so close to home that I don’t get to listen to much of their show live (unless it’s a day I have to look for street parking; I may be able to stretch out another ten minutes or so). It makes me a little sad to know I won’t be able to catch a whole show live, especially when I hear something that I’d love to comment on.

Imagine my surprise when this topic of discussion came up: a fragence for men with the essence of the vagina. It’s not a cologne, but a scent that a man can enjoy. And I’m guessing this is for the man that likes it ripe.

The reason I find this so hilarious is because of a running joke my gay ex-roommate had going with another gay co-worker from our retail days. My roommate would just flat out comment “it smells like pussy” anytime something was stinky. The co-worker agreed with him.

Then one of them misprounounced the word by saying “p’dussy.” And the rest is history.

P’dussy eau de toilette.

P’dussy for Her.

P’dussy no. 69.

So naturally I shot off an email to my ex-roomie, complete with a link to the video. I’m still waiting for his response.

Jonas Jaded Love

My boy crazy gene has kicked in again but alas, no boys are around to take advantage of this. (Which is probably a good thing on both sides.) To cope with this, I’d like to expand this blog a branch and cover all of my celebrity crushes.

I’m taking this article waaaaay back in the day, back to 1995. Before my guy type was permanently set in stone.

I was thirteen, in honors classes, and just starting to make my way towards being an angry teenager. Kurt Cobain had been dead for over a year, I was spending time with people who listened to music that wasn’t on the top 40 list, and MTV had finally captured my full attention when I didn’t have to study.

It was also MTV who introduced me to what would become my longest rock star crush: James Iha.

Bullet With Butterfly Wings premiered, and I got a full view of this:


Hi. Hot Asian guitarist with eyeshadow? Yes, please. Owns a dog? Added bonus. Sometimes wears glasses? *swoon* *face plant*

This was the very first time I found myself incredibly attracted to someone who was Asian who didn’t look like they’d tag “azn pryde” to a wall and I didn’t know what to do with myself. I tried to get as much information as I could about him in those early days, and most of it was little bits and pieces I found in magazines and clips played on MTV. Mind you, this was when AOL was still a single digit version – if they were at five point something I’d be very surprised – so I didn’t have the ability to just google him to see what came up.

If you want to really take it back, I think I used Alta Vista for my first internet search on him.

The pieces I found were extremely promising. Not only was he a hot guitarist with a dog, but he was also a second generation Japanese-American (just like me!). He was born in Elk Grove, IL, which is right next to my birthplace of Arlington Heights. I felt like we were meant to be, that the stars had aligned, and that it would only be a matter of me graduating college before we’d settle down.

When his solo album came out, I had my mom drive me to a store so I could pick up a copy. It was the first thing I heard in the morning when my alarm went off.

If that’s not stalkerish enough for you, I had this piece of info that sealed the deal: a friend of my parents is a cousin of Anna Sui, the fashion designer.

James Iha was good friends with Miss Sui and even did a little turn down the catwalk for one of her collections in the late 90’s.



Seriously, you guys. We just needed someone to make the introduction and I’d be a happy girl. We’d have a loft, practice guitar together, and raise dogs. I wouldn’t even need to change my initials. And he’d [im]patiently wait for me as I finished getting dressed.



Almost fifteen years later, I still have a soft spot for Mr. Iha. He’s gone and bleached his hair and he’s in a band with one of the Hansen kids, but you know what? It was my first rock star love. And you never forget the first one.