Hi, I'm a slacker.

No new post tonight, because I'm too tired to think of anything compelling to write about. However, here's the hilarious birthday card that That Chick sent me:



Also, two new entries are up at badgerbooks if anyone is interested.

Peace out, homies.

Who rocks the partay, rocks the partay?

Brown Eyed Girl rocks the partay, rocks the partay. Why? Because she sent me a package in the mail. And inside I found two packages of Dots. Best of all, stuck to the Dots was a note that said, "Now the next time you get a taste for them, MB won't have to run to 10 places." Brown-Eyed Girl, you kick ass. Not only did the note make me laugh and laugh, but I've had a fierce Dots craving for three days running. Word up, homie. WORD UP.


This made me laugh so hard I almost choked on my Fruity Cheerios, especially during the flailing (thanks to Tamsyn for the original link):

And now, for more clutter busting!

I'm slowly (so slowly) working my way through the piles of clutter we've accumulated over the last few years, working toward the goal of a more simplified, less stuff-clogged living space and life. Last week, I spent an evening going through old clothes and pulling out stuff that no longer fits or that I just don't wear / like. I gave my sister two huge shopping bags full of stuff, and I still have a carryon suitcase full of things that have to go. Inspired by Fussy, once again, I decided to take some photos to memorialize things that I have fond feelings toward, but that I probably won't ever wear again, so I'll be able to get rid of them without losing the memories.

First, my tie-dyed shirts:

From April - November 2004, I worked at a state historic site where my boss was somewhat lenient about the dress code. We had four weeks of day camp that summer, and each week we tie-dyed shirts with the kids. Each week, I made a few shirts, and they more or less became my uniform for the rest of the season. They're a bit too small for the boobage these days, and my dress code is a little more strict anyway, so I've pulled them out of the closet. Even after photographing them, I couldn't bear to part with them, so I bent the rules a little and put them into a box with a few other things that are too cool to get rid of, just in case I have a rad kid someday who wants to wear them. Besides, the two in the last set of pictures are probably the best tie-dyed shirts I've ever made, and the rainbow one hasn't even been washed yet! Click each picture to get a better look at the patterns. You'll note that I managed to totally dodge the too-oft-occurring tragedy of tie-dye circles in the tata region, which is always embarrassing for a girl. I was quite, quite careful with my rubberband placement. Huzzah!



Then, another pair of beloved but battered size 9 hiphugger jeans:


Since these are only torn a little at the knees and at the bottoms of the hip pockets, I'll probably toss them in the Goodwill box. My mom would be horrified, but my sister's boyfriend's brother just spent $200 on a pair of pre-ripped designer jeans, so I figure someone might get some use out of these. Lord knows my ass will never fit into them again.


Speaking of never fitting again:



I can't believe my boobs ever fit into this comparatively wee bra (comparative to now, anyway). And, the funniest boob / bra post EVER EVER EVER:  A Potted History of My Tits by Antonia of Whoopee. Not really safe for work, but so very funny.


I'm not particularly sentimental about these, but they are pretty:

They never quite fit properly, because the sleeves are sort of skinny, and I've never had small upper arms. Back in the day, they were somewhat muscular from all the Taekwondo badassery, and now they're just sort of thick. It's an all-too-common trend in girls' clothes in general, I think--the tendency to forget that some girls do actually have muscles. Too bad, because the shirts are cute.


Of all the shirts, I think I'm most wistful about this one:


Love the cut, love the color. It's a 3/4 sleeve shirt, which sort of makes it look--in this photo, anyway--like it's made for T-Rex arms. (I'm trying to pass the potatoes!) That just intensifies my affection. Alas, it's too short now.



Cue music...

Is it wrong to drool over a boy who weighs less than my right leg?

Ah, high school:








Is it legal to be this sexy whilst singing?




Some DMB love:

So I walk up on high / And I step to the edge / To see my world below. *

Since I only get one weekend off work each month, MB and I are somewhat restricted as far as when we can plan to do stuff together. Since my birthday is coming up, MB designated this weekend as my "birthday weekend," and told me that he wanted to take me somewhere cool, somewhere I wanted to go. I wanted to go here, but it's a pretty long drive and we didn't really feel like spending money to stay one night in a hotel. Besides, according to weather.com, it was going to rain all day on Saturday, so we changed our plans. I'm still a little annoyed with weather.com for lying to me, because it was absolutely beautiful outside yesterday and today, with nary a rain cloud in sight. All in all, though, it was a really fantastic weekend, so I guess I can't complain too much.

Yesterday, we went on a bit of a road trip and visited Squire Boone Caverns, since caves are perfect places to spend the kind of rainy day we were supposed to have. I wish I'd taken notes during the tour, because I can't remember anything about the age of the cave or of the formations inside. It was very cool, though--one of the fanciest caves we've seen together. There were lots and lots of cave formations, and the guide actually got everything right. Usually, cave guides ask at the beginning of a tour if there are any geologists present. I never raise my hand, but MB always rats me out. Then I'm too polite to correct them when they impart incorrect information, like saying that the speleothems are made of onyx (They're not. Onyx is quartz, SiO2. Cave formations are made of calcite, CaCO3. Please show me one piece of limestone that dissolves to make quartz.). Anyway, our guide was right on with all the science, and she was fun.

The cave was supposedly discovered by the famous Daniel Boone and his brother, Squire Boone, Jr. According the to story, they went in through the natural entrance, scaled a series of three waterfalls (two eight-footers and a twelve-footer), and did some exploring in the lower level of the cave. No one knows how far into the cave they actually went, but according to our guide, most people don't think they went very far into the passageways, since they had only torches to rely on for light. Some people doubt that they actually made it up the waterfalls in the first place. It's a cool story, however it actually played out. Here's the top waterfall, the twelve-footer:


I believe the guide said about a million gallons pours over it in an average day.

Caves are crazy-cool places, and I feel really lucky to live near one of the biggest karst belts in the United States.


I could go on for quite some time about how awesome caves are and about the unique ecosystems they support, but I think pictures would be more fun, so here are some we took during the tour:

white flowstone
MB dubbed this the "cave penis"
This is the Rock of Ages, the largest and oldest formation in the cave.
According to our guide, these are the largest active (still growing) rimstone dams in the world.


MB called this "upside-down New York City."
At the lowest point in the cave, we were 9 stories underground. You could stand on the hill over the top of the cave and have no clue what was beneath your feet. It's mindblowing and awesome to think of all the wonder that could be hiding just out of sight. For more pictures from the cave trip, check out Shutterfly.


Today, we slept very late, which was fabulous, and then went hiking at a state park not too far from where we live:






After hiking, we went out to run a few errands, and MB bought me a two-in-one novel of Eric Garcia's Anonymous Rex and Casual Rex. My sister also gave me Terry Pratchett's Night Watch and Sergei Lukyanenko's Day Watch, so it's been a satisfactorily bookish birthday.

Let's end with some minutiae:

Dear Bravo,

Top Design turned out crappy enough. Now you're trying to get us swallow your new filler show, Shear Genius, a hairstylists' competition? You've got to be kidding. Please just give it a rest until you're ready to start the next season of Project Runway.

Thank you,
velocibadgergirl



Dear CW,

I know my addiction to America's Next Top Model is shameful, but I'd still appreciate it if you'd show it when you say you're going to show it. Otherwise, how am I supposed to be able to tape it while I'm out on Wednesday nights?

xoxo,
velocibadgergirl



What I've been doing with my evenings lately:

And some music:

Make Way for Puppies!

The day that I was saving a crib from the landfill, my parents were saving something a lot more precious and a lot more fun:


They rounded up these five little guys out in front of the house on Wednesday, after they found them wandering around in the flowerbeds, running across the street, and scrounging for food in a nearby alley.



There are two boys and three nearly-identical girls. Mom and Little Sis have named them already.

Streak & Boss (the boys) and Lady & Midi (I think)

The old dogs, ages 14 and 10, say, "Oy...these young whippersnappers!" and "Raising puppies? At our age? Ha!"

Mom and Dad put a "found" ad in the paper, and it'll run until Sunday, but they're not really expecting anyone to call. Five mouths to feed was apparently too much trouble for someone. Mom is planning to keep Streak and Lady, but living in the city--with two big dogs already--they can't keep all five. These three will have to go to the shelter if we can't find homes for them:

Boss times 2

Babi, the smallest  &  Midi, the middle child

Did you hear that sound, just now? Like pieces of glass tinkling gently to the floor? That was my heart breaking into a thousand pieces at the thought that these darling little lives might be snuffed out simply because someone was careless and left them to fend for themselves.

So tonight, please cross your fingers or say a little prayer or send out some hope that we can find three homes for three beautiful babies. And next time it's your turn to find a dog to warm your heart, please please consider a shelter dog. There are so many out there with so much love to give.



3/13/07--Edited to Add:

The original owners turned up; they live across the street and down a few houses. They still want to find homes for all the puppies, and when Mom asked if there was a deadline for when the puppies had to be adopted or they'd go to the pound, the owner said no. Mom kept Lady, now renamed Maggie. Dad vetoed keeping two, but I think Mom's still hoping she'll be able to go back for Streak. I'm offering not-so-subtle hints and suggestions toward that end whenever I get a chance.

The puppies are 2 months old, and we also found out the parentage--the father is a German shepherd and the mother is Australian shepherd / Border collie. I said, "Mom, that's one clever dog you've found for yourself." She bragged that she got the smartest of the bunch. Not that she's biased or anything.

MB and I went over to the house for a little bit and there were puppy accoutrements everywhere--toys, books, a freestanding pet pen thingie that can be moved around the house, etc. etc. etc. I think maybe Mom's empty-nesting a bit with miss Maggie. But that's okay, because Maggie's a total heartbreaker.



I'm still hoping that Dad will give in and let Mom get Streak, too.

Dumpster Diving Gone Wrong

You may have read about Upstairs Neighbor Guy before. He's a big improvement over the previous upstairs neighbor, the trashtastic chick with multiple elephantine children (sound-wise, not size-wise) and umpteen angry boyfriends. He does play his crappy music too loud at least once a week, but usually not for long, and there's that whole constant vacuuming thing, but overall he's a huge improvement. However, he has one incredibly obnoxious habit. He throws objects over the railing of his balcony. Most of the time, they clear our yardlet and fence and land on the lawn behind the building.

Back in December, I documented the appearance of a lampshade on the lawn:


Squirrel kegger gone wrong, or first sign that our neighbor is a freakin' froot loop?


Since the lampshade (and its attendant lamp), most of what I've found in our yardlet and on the lawn have been more ordinary if no less disgusting pieces of litter:  a KFC bucket, two huge pieces of sytrofoam, a broom handle, a large piece of that fake grass carpet that's used to build mini golf courses.

But then, last night / early this morning, around 12:30 or so, I was reading blogs and winding down for the evening when I heard the most godawful clang from the backyard. I flipped on the porch light, but didn't see anything. Figuring he'd definitely pitched something over, I checked again this morning. There's a damn toaster oven lying in pieces on the lawn. Who tosses small appliances over their balcony rail? Sweet cracker sandwich, this neighborhood is weird.




Now, this guy is a known Dumpster Diver. I'm afraid to think what his apartment probably looks like at this point, since I've heard numerous reports of him dragging stuff back from the trash bin. We threw out a folding chair with a wonky seat a few months ago, and MB saw Upstairs Neighbor Guy toting it home a few hours later. For the most part, I say more power to him. As I see it, Dumpster Diving is just another way to recycle / reuse stuff. But once he's done with whatever he's scavenged, I don't feel like it's too much to ask that he put it back where he found it.


I did a little Dumpster Diving of my own today, though it was more of a Spot Beside the Dumpster than a Dive. When I got home from work, there was a crib leaning against the fence behind the Dumpster. Someone threw away an entire crib. I was appalled. Granted, it's not the nicest crib in the world, but I'm sure someone would love to have it to fix up for their baby. It seemed like such a disgusting waste to let it get carted off to the landfill, so I ended up dragging it back to my apartment. I'm sure I provided immense amounts of entertainment to anyone who saw my scrawny out-of-shape ass hauling that damn baby bed down half a city block. My dad's going to come by with his pickup on Saturday so we can send the crib to Goodwill.


MB was out having dinner with our good friend / Evilducky's husband, The Englishman, so I called to warn him before he had a chance to come home and discover the crib on his own:

VBG:  "Hey, honey? I just wanted to let you know that there's going to be a folded-up crib in the living room when you get home, so don't freak out."

MB:  "A what?"

VBG:  "A crib. A baby's bed? I didn't want you to come home and be all 'What the fuck?' so I figured I'd better warn you."

MB:  "Can I still be like that?"

VBG:  "Sure. You'll have some time to practice."