Holy Cats, Batman! It's Halloween!

Cheers to Julie Newmar (and Catwoman!), my inspiration.

All Things Brave and Beautiful

"I wanted to write a book about people doing brave and beautiful things in an ugly world."

~Markus Zuzak

This book was on my reading list this summer. It's absolutely brilliant. So when I heard that Aussie author Markus Zuzak was appearing at Kepler's in Menlo Park, well, I had to go, didn't I. He told some really wonderful stories (which I hope to post at some point) and right in the middle of it all we had the earthquake. He quit talking and everyone was just sort of sitting there, riding it out. And the quake kept rolling, and someone shouted out, "Welcome to California!" Then everyone laughed. Kudos to him, he remained completely unruffled by the experience, and even made a few jokes about being the closest to the only table in the room.

The Book Thief is truly marvelous, a book that I wish I had written myself.

Hey, Buddy... You got any Sudafed?

I wish I could breathe like a normal person, I really do. My allergies come and go as they please, my sinuses flaring up regardless of the time of year. They were bothering me so much one year that I actually went to the trouble of getting tested to find out what the main culprit is. It was not any kind of flowering plant or animal hair which I had previously suspected; instead I found out that my main allergen is common house dust, specifically the dust mites that inhabit said dust.

Basically, what this means is I'm allergic to just about everything in my house that collects dust. Finally, I have a legitimate excuse to avoid housework, and a reasonable understanding of why I hate it so much: It makes me sick. (Honestly, if I go to the trouble of vacuuming, I breathe like an asthmatic for three days; suffice it to say, I don't get much vacuuming done these days). My only recourse is to wrap everything in plastic, buy phenomenally expensive 300-thread-count woven Egyptian cotton sheets, and pay someone else to clean my house (yeah, like any of *that* is going to happen). My only *other* recourse is to find a drug that works.

Enter Sudafed, with pseudoephedrine. This is the stuff that works. And it's the only stuff that I can't get. You know why? Because pseudoephedrine is also the main ingredient of crystal meth. So to keep evil people from coming in and buying buckets of the stuff, this drug has been officially moved "behind-the-counter." You have to ask for it.

Now, I don't have a problem with this. I understand they need to control access to this drug. What I don't understand is why they limit purchase to two boxes per customer which does *not* equal a month's supply, if you are using it as the manufacturer intended. And do you know how they track this? They run your Driver's License through the computer to ensure you aren't sneaking around to other drug stores buy more. When I murmur my complaints about this, the pharmacist only shrugs and says it isn't his rule and directs me to the alternate. This drug, Sudafed with phenylephrine, is sold without restriction; however, case studies have shown that not only is it ineffective, it is little better than a placebo.

Well, *I* could have told them that! I have popped up to three of those things at a time and *nothing happens*!!!

It just burns me that because criminals are using this drug illegally, I have pay the price. I'm the one restricted from this drug. It's easier to buy this stuff on the street than to get it from your local pharmacy.

For the love of Pete, I am *not* running a meth lab in my home! I just want to breathe like a normal person!!!

She's Vader As a Girl

I don't know which of these two scares me more...

She-Vader Strikes Back!

(Cue Darth Vader theme)
Bom-bom-bom-bump-bombom-bump-bombom...

So there I was at this con (in the dreams of my head upon my bed) and I was dressed up as Darth Vader. But I was, like, Darth Vader with breasts. I was fully clothed, you understand, it was a full-on, authentic costume, but it was all skin-tight and sexy.

And, go figure, everybody wanted to take their picture with me. So there I was, posing, taking picture after picture. And the helmut starts to get a little uncomfortable, so I take it off and put it under a seat somewhere to keep it from being stepped on in the crowd.

Later, I can't find it. I search for it everywhere--it's gone! I've lost my helmut!

What does this mean? Is this some kind of euphemism? Have I lost my con virginity?

I told you my unconscious is weird, didn't I? I warned you.

Isabel says I've stumbled upon my ideal Halloween costume.
;-)

Smells like Manipulation

Someone's finally done it, folks: aroma-emitting sign technology, or "Kaoru Digital Signage" as it is known in Tokyo.

On the one hand, this seems like a pretty cool idea. On the other, I can't imagine how many people will be allergic to these things. We are bombarded by so much sensory media now as it is, and now there's more? Scents are extremely powerful motivators. If you don't think so, click here to read the entire article.

Knowing me, I'll probably be in the 1% of the population allergic to the damn things.

Delusions of Homestead

My friend Isabel has been staying with me temporarily until she gets settled in the area. She started out as my housesitter (well, apartmentsitter/bunnysitter) while I was gone this summer, and when I came back it just became convenient for her to stick around. She got a job at the local bookstore and now she's looking for a place to live.

The thing is, it's been kind of nice having her around. She's good company and one of the easiest people to live with that I've ever known. So we have kind of sort of been toying with the idea of finding a place to live together.

I checked out Craigslist and found that anything with 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms is well into the $2000's per month. Reduce it to 3 bd/1 bth and it's marginally less, but still not affordable for our means.

Today, there was this little place that put up a rent sign that was right across the street from her work, so we went to check it out. It was more than amazing, it was uber-cute. It didn't look like much from the front but inside was a little 2-bedroom place with a studio attached out back. We got all giggly and excited thinking this was "our" place.

The bad news: $1400 for the 2-bedroom; $900 for the studio; $3000 if you want to rent the whole place together.

So that was the proverbial that. Isabel observed, "It's kind of like falling in love with a man: We always fall in love with the potential." Ain't it the truth.

We didn't stay down for long. We went to go see our friend Bruce play his guitar with a band in Felton. Had a beer, listened to some good music--funny how troubles slip away.

But what troubles me is that there are actually people out there who can watch $3000 of their money slip out the door every month for a rental.