I’m 30 going on 12

This may or may not be a true story.

Today Julia and I were wandering down Fourth Street, a veeerry swanky part of Berkeley, California. We look cute — all dolled up — never mind the holes in Julia’s shirt and the bike shorts I insist on wearing under my skirt. Yeah, we’re cute, and we’re wandering around the CB2 store making fun of the techno music that makes you want to shop and admiring their $25 file folders and shit.

It was all pretty tame and innocent when Julia discovered these little magnetic sphere things. They were pretty fun, I had to admit. She even managed to make them into a bracelet!! Way to go Julia!! If only I had my camera out for this magic moment…

The bracelet — held together only by the attraction of one sphere to another — fell apart!! Little magnetic balls were everywhere. We laughed uproariously and I bemoaned the lack of video footage as I helped Julia track down the balls.

We got most of them, but one was behind this desk, and I thought I could bend down and fish it out. Technically, I could have, but the fact of the matter was that at that moment I had a big ass purse in tow. And that big ass purse in tow bumped a shelf and knocked the display of picture frames off in a dramatic tumble of metal and glass.

We couldn’t hide from the crash. No, that moment found us shame-faced and staring at a pile of broken glass and unsalable merchandise. And the next found us running out of the store like 12-year-olds who neglected to listen to their moms’ advice, “Look but don’t touch girls!!” Continue Reading

the time I baked bugs into my cookies

It seemed like just another day. Got a new bookshelf, had some friends over for dinner. But then, the worst thing ever happened: there wasn’t enough leftover lasagna for everyone.

We all had a decent-sized piece, but not an American-sized piece, if you know what I mean. I made extra salad, but I could tell they were still hungry. Or maybe I was just paranoid.

The decision was made: cookies were in order. I got out everything we needed and made the magic happen. Just when the magic was being perfected, my friend Kat noticed there were little specks dotting the top layer 0f the flour….specks that were–on closer inspection–little winged insects.

Oh but what were we to do??  We baked them.  We ate them.  I let our friend Adam eat two without even telling him.  Does that make me terrible?

And who is to blame for this debacle?  I want to blame my Modular Mates Tupperware containers, pictured above in their bug-harboring glory. How could you do this to me Modular Mates? How could you ruin my cookies??*

And after everything I’ve done for you. Touted you on my online Tupperware store.  Organized my pantry around you.  And now this betrayal.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you.

*To be fair, they were also mediocre for a number of other reasons. 1. We didn’t really follow a recipe. 2. I followed the advice of my friends and added an entire package of pudding. That was just crazy.

A case might also be made that it was my fault that the cookies were ruined for not noticing the bugs when I first scooped the flour.  But again, there is someone else to blame.  And in this case, that someone is booze, who distracted me and inspired me to make the cookies in the first place. Again, not my fault.

I didn’t win

I know this is going to come as a huge, unwelcome surprise because you all voted for me so very many times, but I didn’t win the NYC Flash Fiction Microchallenge Contest.  Or whatever it was called.  I never really got that straight.

This loss is merely a bump on the road to Internet domination, but I found myself getting bummed about it late last night when I figured it out.

And then I remembered one of my stories that didn’t make it into the final round:

She gasped for more oxygen. Her sons were safe now. But she couldn’t escape the slice of the boat.

This is the true story of how Kirsty MacColl met her horrible and untimely death. I first met Kirsty when our friend William introduced her song, In These Shoes, on a mixtape back in 2005.  I was instantly in love.

Her death is a tragedy unparalleled.

Gives you some appreciation for life and loved ones, doesn’t it? Every moment counts.

Today I'm 30

18 years ago today I turned twelve.  The night before I wrote about how grateful I was for everything in my life. When I read that entry as I posted it I had to laugh out loud; just a few nights ago I wrote a very similar entry in my current diary about how grateful I am for everything in my life.

In particular, I’m grateful that I’m thirty. I found my twenties to be full of growing pains.  Add to that the ominous quality one’s thirtieth birthday tends to have and I am just glad it’s over.  I’m sure that there will be growing pains in the future as I continue to work to expand my business (so much harder than I thought!) and my family. We’re looking forward to adding a dog and, someday, a baby or two.

My twenties were full of life lessons.  How can I ensure I pay my bills on time and stop shelling out for late fees?  How can I balance my wonderful and fun social life with my often neglected need for alone time?  How can I be my own boss and force myself to come through when I really don’t want to and prioritize projects appropriately?

How can I be okay with my changing body and love myself anyway?  How can I be okay with my changing needs and desires and love myself anyway?  How can I just plain love myself when there’s always so much more I could be or accomplish?

As I list these I realize that they are and will continue to be questions that plague my life.  But I think that the #1 thing I’ve learned is to chill out, or in the words of 12-year-old me, take a chill pill.

This is my lifetime and I’m going to enjoy it, damnit. Continue Reading

True Love

He wouldn’t admit it, but Will loves the Guster. After so many guys told me that one of the cardinal rules of dating was never talking about your cat, I am evidence that the right person will put up with it, even participate, and grow to feel the same way.

An adorable pair.

And if you’re someone who loves animals, you shouldn’t be with someone who doesn’t love animals. It’s just not natural. Continue Reading

Jenfest 2011

I love throwing parties.  It’s pretty much the highlight of my life.

I’ve been throwing a Jenfest every year since 2003.  This year will be the ninth.  Every year I go over budget, and lose about a month of my life to ridiculous details, planning and souvenir-making.

Daydreaming about Jenfest starts somewhere in February.  I’ve long had a dream of renting the Roxie and having a movie night complete with appropriate games, songs and refreshments.  The long-coveted fantasy Jenfest is a giant concert starring my favorite band, Pulp*. I still have hope that that dream may come true…

This year I was planning a Guerrilla Outdoor Movie Night on Broadway.  The plan was to project a movie on an unrented building and take over the adjoining parking lot with camping chairs, blankets, and a popcorn machine.  Sounds fun, right?  The idea of a Winona Ryder (my favorite!) film festival was bounced around. Continue Reading

to do to do to do to do

I’ve just arrived in Berlin on my first vacation in three years.  Now don’t get me wrong; I’ve taken a few long weekends to camp or visit family, and I long ago instituted a rule where I  don’t work on Sundays.  But other than that, running Artsy Geek pretty much rules my  life.

When Will and I made plans for this European vacation at the beginning o fthe year, I had an anxious feeling in my stomach.  It’s not that I didn’t want to go; I wanted to go more than anything.  But I was terrified about how I would afford it and whether I would find myself working frantically on the train as the vistas passed me by unappreciated. Continue Reading

Question: How you sneak booze into Oakland’s Oracle Arena?

Answer: In your pants!! They check your bag but they don’t pat you down.

Tip: Put the alcohol you are smuggling into Oracle Arena in a thin plastic bottle. Don’t risk losing a flask. I heard that a Korbel Brandy one works pretty well.

You won’t miss the show while waiting to refresh your beverage, and you won’t have to pay for more than one $13 Sierra Nevada. If you’re sitting in the front row, head to the Oracle Arena bathroom to refill or risk getting yourself kicked out.

One girl got some brandy in under skinny jeans. I was so jealous.