We're all out to get you Mr. Green

It's Matt's birthday today! He can usually be rather morose and un-stylishly contemplative on his birthday so I decided to try and fill it with little surprises. May I tell you, I think it was a great success particularly as along the way I picked up many conspirators!

Conspirator #1: Karin- Step-mom extraordinaire

I contacted the devious Ms. Karin a few days prior in order to obtain the secret Swedish recipe for Kalas Kaka. This recipe is so secret that it's even written in some sort of unbreakable code full of umlauts and what not. Alas the transcription was incomplete and measurements were in these things called "deciliters" and "grams". Luckily I was able to decipher using my knowledge of sugary fizzy drinks and my one year of Latin. So "deci" I know is derived from the Latin decimus meaning ten. So I concluded that 1 deciliter of sugar should be roughly equal to the volume of ten bottles of soda. All I know about grams is that they weigh roughly the same as a paperclip. Unfortunately I don't have any paperclips in the house so I got the nearest amalgam a single staple. Having gathered 75 loose staples I placed them in one hand and picked up some butter in my other hand until I felt that they weighed about the same. A few eggs and injuries later I had managed to put this together:

Conspirator #2: Quiz Master Polly

Conspirator #3: Rachel Queen of all geek waitresses

Conspirator #4: The Indefatigable waitress Lacey 

Wednesday night is our usual night to head on down to the Sellwood Public House for Trivia. Near the end of Trivia I managed to tweet a secret message (well secret to anyone not on twitter) to Polly that Matt's birthday was the following day. After subtle hand gestures waved across the room Polly understood to check her twitter and quickly got up and ran to the kitchen. Matt, meanwhile, was still trying to figure out question number 8: What is the 4th most popular strip club in Portland? A moment later one of our lovely waitresses Lacey and asks Matt if it's his birthday. Suspicious Matt says "No, why?" "Oh, well I wonder who's birthday it is then" she responds and looks at me confused. Unbeknownst to Matt I'm frantically hitting Lacey under the table. Just in time Rachel comes out with a slice of apple pie a la mode and the whole bar sings "Happy Birthday dear Bow-tie!" (as Matt is lovingly known in said crowd for his choice in neckwear and knowledge of Portland City councilmen) See below for proof of success!

Conspirator #5: Groupon

AWESOME today's Groupon was for one of Matt's favorite restaurants: Habibi! He received his groupon for $16 worth of fare half way through the actual birthday day!

Conspirator #6: Cat lover and frequent tormentor of my boyfriend via text: Crystal

 At work today the lovely Ms Crystal took time out of her day to take me to Fred Meyers to obtain a certain cat shaped balloon that we had spied weeks ago.You see our apartment has a very strict "no pets, not even for visiting" clause on the lease. Try as I might to get Matt to see reason that rental agreements are merely suggestions of good behavior and honestly who does a landlord think he is outlining moral codes for inhabitants anyway. We should get a kitty in protest to this Fascism. On my way home I texted Matt that I had found and abandoned kitten in a box and I was bringing it home. I was hoping to get him annoyed at me but apparently I just broke his kitty loving heart. Good news though no real kitties were harmed in the making of this balloon...I think.  

Conspirator #7: Sue- Brilliant Deductress of Amazing Presents aka MOM
I received a very excited message on Tuesday from Matt's mom. She wanted to run a present idea by me and asked me to call her back when Matt was not around. I called her back a few moments later. She has found a place in Rhode Island that will overnight a New England Clambake! HOW COOL IS THAT??!!. Real lobsters are hard to get here on the West Coast and proper steamers are nonexistent. Matt LOVES both those things and a clambake is always such a nice reminder of home. We arranged a good day to have the feast delivered and both waited anxiously. I promised to video him getting his present. On Thursday we received the tracking number from fedex and spent a good portion of the day refreshing their webpage to see if the package had been delivered. At last the package was delivered and our good friend and neighbor Rachel (Mini conspirator #8) picked the package up off the front step so as to make sure it wasn't stolen or seen by Matt when he got home. Well here's the result:

Untitled from dulcenea T on Vimeo.

Now belly's full and kitchen a crustaceans encrusted mess we sleep. Good birthday people. Good birthday.

Morning Discourse on Medieval History

From: Gabriela
Sent: Wednesday, September 14, 2011 8:28 AM
To: Matthew A.
Subject:

Woah in 1120 there were entirely too many people named Matilda. Also Henry.

---

From: Matthew
Sent: Wednesday, September 14, 2011 8:31 AM
To: Gabriela
Subject: RE:

What are you talking about [he asks, intrigued]?

---

From: Gabriela
Sent: Wednesday, September 14, 2011 8:34 AM
To: Matthew

Subject: RE:

Just listening to a podcast about Whiteship and how it sank because there were too many Matildas. At least that’s I’m choosing to learn from it.

---

From: Matthew
Sent: Wednesday, September 14, 2011 8:35 AM
To: Gabriela
Subject: RE:

As usual, you are taking exactly the right lesson from history.

---

From: Gabriela
Sent: Wednesday, September 14, 2011 8:36 AM
To: Matthew

Subject: RE:

It’s what I do best.

---

From: Gabriela
Sent: Wednesday, September 14, 2011 8:40 AM
To: Matthew

Subject: RE:

It's the little things that make me most happy

Usually a Wilsonville short bus starts off my nightly odyssey home (my 90 minute commute goes like this: bus, train, bus, bus, bus) but last night I was amazed at what showed up:

The open air trolley was amazing and only slightly dangerous as my bag threatened to fly out the side each time we made a turn. I sat in the back grinning and bouncing along like an idiot the entire ride.

(disclaimer: big things also make me most happy)

First Thought

I recently came back home from a wonderful beach vacation. The following Sunday morning Matt and I left the house early in search of breakfast at the fabulous Bertie Lou's Cafe. As we walked out of the parking lot, past the dumpster, a flash of sparkle caught my eye. I looked and saw a clear plastic stiletto heel in the style of "working girl". I looked at Matt, eyebrow raised, and asked if he had seen this earlier in the week. He stated that it is not his custom to look under dumpsters. I hadn't noticed it the night before either and assumed that it must have made its appearance overnight. I hesitantly approached the dumpster, thought better of it, and instead asked Matt to look inside the said dumpster. "What exactly am I supposed to be looking for" Matt asked. "Clearly," I responded, "a dead hooker." You see, perhaps I have read too many murder mysteries or perhaps I'm an incurably untrusting, cynical East-coaster; either way, my first thought on seeing this shoe was not "Oh, some drunk coed got tired of her spiky shoes last night on her walk home and disposed of them" but instead "Aagh, an angry pimp availed himself of our unlocked dumpster to dispose of inconveniently dead girl". 

Luckily no dead girl was found in our dumpster and we continued on our merry way to breakfast. Matt thinks that my line of reasoning is just another clue that I am actually a psychopath. I still think that evidence was on my side. After all, what coed gets tired of just one shoe?                                                                                       

Watering Hole

Lotus Card Room and Cafe, a photo by dulcenea on Flickr.

I think the decorators of the Lotus Card Room and Cafe went a bit too literal with the notion of "bar as watering hole".

Also note that the white screen in the background was showing Devo's Whip it video while this shot was taken.

To Better See the Horror

Gasp! We've had three days of sunshine! According to the all knowing twitter it's the first time it had happened in over 279 days. All this sunny weather and the impending DOOM of rapture© day got me into a little bit of post apocalyptic mood. I wandered about the neighborhood and went to the scariest places I could find, so as to note them as places to avoid when we're running away from the zombie hordes.

Also, a few weeks ago i made an emergency preparedness plan.

Redesign

Are you reading this on facebook or perhaps your rss reader? Then you haven't yet seen the fabulous new redesign of my blog! Countless hour went into it and I can't decide if I like it. Trying to strike a balance between nice to look at and not overly girly/manly is more difficult than I anticipated.
I dislike that making something look cool has to mean that it sould be grey, shiny and covered in penises. Alright the penises are figurative but the sentiment stands: just because I'm a girl and appreciate asthetic doesn't mean I want my page to look like a scrapbook.
Sooo...combine templates with my limited knowledge of html (obtained at minority science camp in '95!) and it's difficult to  avoid a generic mush of webpage.  Go take a look. Did I do ok? Are the waves too much? Are you saying to yourself "Yes Gaby we all understand you're half Japanese no need to remind us"? What do you think of my header? I made it using Paint. What do you think of my header now? Comment!

http://youroxenhavedrowned.blogspot.com/

A Foggy Weekday Morn

Pea Soup Morn (sld 1)
Originally uploaded by dulcenea

I've never seen fog like the fogs we get here in Oregon. Describing it as "Pea Soup" doesn't do it justice. It's more accurately described as "Solid Wall of Non-existence". It can be particularly unnerving around bridges when you have to just trust that there is another end (that doesn't end in the maw of some hideous beast). This past morning it was just a light regular fog.

The Industrial Complex has a human face after all

Though apparently it's terrified by what it sees.

The John Hurt moment

Dedicated to my sister who is in the John Hurt way at the moment.

Postcrossing

Did you know?

- My city has 12 bridges

- My boyfriend’s a jerk because he won’t let us have kitties (he isn’t really)

- I’m a fan of Mumford & Sons though not particularly sociable

- I disdain postcard makers that don’t realize that room to write on a postcard is at a premium

- I have a deep and unwavering affection for a boy named Pavel in Belarus

Well now you do, and so does some person in Taiwan.

My friend Maggie recently sent me a link to Postcrossing. It’s for those of us who always wanted a pen pal from some faraway place but failed miserably at corresponding on a semi-regular basis. (Sorry little blonde girl in Ireland whose picture I think I still have; I’m sure you were a really nice 10-year-old 20 years ago, but I barely manage to return books to the library, so there was really no hope for our epistolary friendship). With Postcrossing, there's no need for all that pesky follow-up. If you can manage to muster up a paragraph or even a couple of sentences, slap it on the back of a postcard and (here’s the crucial step that I am close to mastering) mail it to a registered Postcrossing user, then in a few weeks' time you’ll get a postcard back from another random person on the other side of the world.

If the postcards I have received are any indication, most people must expect to receive pretty postcards and aren’t particularly interested in the message on the other side. But honestly, I don’t understand why you would pass up the opportunity to confuse, amuse, love, or possibly irritate a total stranger who is patiently awaiting a card and an introduction from somebody half a world away.

Hopefully, right now there is a boy named Pavel* in Belarus who realizes that he is loved... or at least not too terribly annoyed by my distracted musings.

*Why yes, I am proud that I managed not to ask Pavel to call me and leave a message of him saying “Nuclear Wessels”.

Unfair Fight

I never really understood the notion of a fair fight. Sure, if it's a structured competition where bets are waged and consideration for opponent size has been made, then there should be rules that ought to be followed. But if you are faced with having to fight for real, then why in God's name would you fight fairly? Perhaps it's just because I'm a girl and, generally speaking, a girl gets at most one or two tries to take down an opponent. So why wouldn't you fight "dirty" as soon as you could?

Case in point: Thumb War

Honestly, look at the size of his thumb. My thumb is easily 1/3 the size of his. This is clearly not at all fair. I'm left no other option but to fight dirty. I use all options available. Mainly I tag team his thumb with my thumb and index finger. Using my thumb to lure him in, I then wrestle him down with a surprise attack from my index finger, and as a final move I quickly position my thumb into lockdown position for the winning move. Unfortunately, even all this doesn't always work. His thumb isn't just bigger but ridiculously strong. I can't always hold him down. If the situation is dire I employ the "hey look over there" move to try and distract him or simply call in the cavalry (i.e. my other hand) to hold down his thumb for the requisite 10 seconds in order to win.

Some may call my techniques "cheating." I beg to differ; I feel I simply offer a more efficient way to win an unfair fight.

Flat Iron Bar

On the way home last night from getting the newish REM album.

Furious Fowl

In case I haven't mentioned it before, I dream rather often and vividly. I'm sure I must have dreams that aren't all gore and aliens but those I never remember. The ones I always remember are ones in which death is imminent and all that stands between me and death is...well very little. Let's face it I'm not particularly skilled. In the coming Zombie Apocalypse if you want to increase your chances of survival you should befriend me. I will be your funny, nerdy friend that figures out how to get the computerized DOS based electrified fence security system to start in the nick of time AND I will afford you extra time in your escape from the zombie horde because I run slower than EVERYONE ELSE and will surely die.

The other night I dreamt I was sitting in the back of a small bus on my way to work. As usual I was passing time by fiddling with my new phone. As we head down the street a loud thud is heard coming from the roof as if something large had been dropped on the bus. The bus stops in the middle of the street and I look up through the window and see that a GINORMOUS bird has landed on top of the bus. The small-sedan sized bird pecks at the roof with a very large sharp toucan type beak. I yell at the driver to keep going and to not open the doors. Meanwhile the bird has stopped pecking at roof and seems to be preoccupied by something else it has up there. I crane my neck against the window to get a better look at the bird and what it has it. I catch the gaze of bird and can see myself in its large shiny black eyes. After staring at me for a moment it picks up what appears to be a head still attached to a legless torso of a man wearing a "Jayne Cobb" hat and tosses it down the street behind us. Still on top of the bus it peers into the window and looks right at me as I hastily shove my "Jayne Cobb" into my blue messenger bag. At this opportune moment I recall a study I had read about in the New York Times about crows that can recognize faces. The bus reaches it's stop and I debate trying to run with everyone else to the train and trying to use the "herd" to keep myself safe. When I realize I run slower than EVERYONE ELSE and will surely die. Or do I stay in the bus and risk being grabbed like a sardine in a tin can.

I woke up before I had to make the Sophie's choice of how to best die. Later that I night I'm recounting my nightmare to Matt. He asks me to repeat what this bird looked like. "Large," I said "with a toucan beak and eyes as black as death". Matt grabs my phone off the counter and after a few taps asks was my bird large enough to knock down buildings? And perchance was it green?



Dam you un-aimable Boomerang bird! No longer satisfied with infuriating my waking life must you attack my subconscious life as well?

Patron

Have you ever dreamed that one day you too would be a "Patron of The Arts"? In said dream you would walk around all day wearing a monocle and top hat exclaiming "My, my how Kafkaesque" and polite laughter would ensue. Alas this dream is significantly more exciting in my head. In real life I rush to the lobby during intermission, claim a seat to relieve my aching feet (Pro tip: standing room only tickets at a three hour opera is a bad idea) and, after carefully counting out enough money for the bus home, debate if a 4 oz plastic cup of wine is worth possibly losing your seat to that blue hair staring at you from behind her walker. Granted you are likely to be able to dash to the bar and back before she can manage to shuffle her way across the room. But the danger still exists that morality may stand in the way of knocking her down to regain your cushioned butt surface.

How else can one support the arts? Preferably from the comfort of your own multi-seat home. Enter kickstarter.com where artists and the like can propose a project and the crowd/world/internet/your mom can decide whether they would like to fund your project. You set a goal and a deadline. If you manage to garner enough pledges to meet your goal before the deadline your project is funded! It's an all or nothing system. So if only your mom pledged and you never make it to that $5k goal then no one gets charged and your art is deemed lacking. Ok, perhaps judgement isn't really made but the conclusion is the same. Payments are handled through Amazon and not the artist. So no worries that your information is going to some random stranger in Portland that likes to put birds on things and call it art.

I've funded two successful projects so far and I think it's awesome. By the way, generally you get something back for your investment. So it's not like your totally throwing money out into the world.


My friend Nathan Boucher is currently funding a small indie comic called Adventure is Out There. Wherein his girlfriend and him will go to New York City find adventure and fun, write and illustrate a comic and sell it on Etsy. There are different levels of funding but the on I chose is the $20 level that get's you:

You will receive a hand crafted portrait of you in NYC doing something famous that will be included at the back of the final book. For instance: climbing the Empire State Building, caught in a New Years Eve celebration in Time Square, as a taxi driver in a yellow cab.

How sweet is that?! Big plus I love both Nathan and Meagan's drawing style so I look forward to it. They've met their goal already but feel free to contribute so many more adventures can be sought.

Seagull

I stood around for an unacceptable amount of time today waiting for this seagull to fly away. I quit waiting when he turned around and dropped a duece.

Post a day

I'm going to make a mighty attempt to post once a day. I have high hopes seeing as it will mean that I get to use my fancy phone more often. I'll do my best. ::Fingers crossed::