Trying to cheer me up from some recent downer benders I’ve been on, a friend reminded me that there is simplicity in life when reading a fortune cookie because everyone knows that pithy observations that contain general truths are the way to bring about an upper.

Since I have been anxious to get some really good greasy Chinese food and nothing has led me to order a pound of Cashew Chicken, I had to settle for this. These are the five I got.

“Pray for what you want, but steal what you need.”

Ok, but what if I want a really good massage or some toast? Toast would be easier I feel. What I really want is to have this Fall Photo Contest. Come back around Friday or so and check out what I have planned. In the meantime, I could use some blackberry jam for that toast.

“You will become a great bore in your later years.”

No, really. I think I’m there already. These must be my later years which led me to the conclusion that my mid-life crisis happened when I was 18. I think I really lost it when my station wagon needed a new carburetor and I took on bicycling to class. Looking back on that, strapping a toddler to the baby seat while wearing a backpack really wasn’t the worst that could happen, but there you have it. Stupid internal combustion engines.

“You are not one of those people who goes places in life.”

Tell me about it. The greatest travel distance I’ve experienced lately was when I had to traipse all the way up to the third floor of my school only to be teased about the faux-fur vest I was wearing by the security officers in the building and then back to my office to see that someone pilfered my peanut/candy corn mixture. At work, they are calling me “Shadow” now and telling people that I wear dead cats for fashion. Jerks. I traveled all that way to be teased about being a cat-killer and didn’t even have a sucrose-induced coma to make it all better.

“Always remember to pillage before you burn.”

I’ll remember that when I retaliate against the security guys. Who has a match? Anyone?

“You foolishly believe in the goodness of mankind.”

Raise your hand if you follow this adage as well. That’s what I thought. I’m not the only sucker out there. At least I’m in good company with Anne Frank and all.
But I want to write my own fortunes from now on.

There’s some weird stuff going on with my RSS feed so I changed the outlook to show two entries per page. Consider that my gift to you.

Also? Are you here? Because here’s what I learned last night: when I came back to the blog (because stupid stuff burns my butt and I can’t possibly stay quiet) and thought to myself, “Hmm. Wonder if I should write today.” it didn’t occur to me to tell anyone I was writing again. You know, go forth and multiply anyone who might have still been reading. But after having a conversation with The Californians I learned that word-of-mouth (read: send mass emails to people) is really the only thing that is bringing anyone here to my writing.

I have no earthly idea what to do with this information.

So while that’s stewing in my brain along the fact that I can’t possibly afford tickets to go see the *Pageant of the Masters at Laguna Beach this weekend (The Californians must be some wealthy people because the Midwestern Girl in me screamed at the top of my imaginary lungs, “WHAT? WHO CAN AFFORD TO SEE BEAUTIFUL ARTISTIC STUFF HERE AT THOSE PRICES?”) you can chew on this:

That’s my new purple haired friend, Heathervescent. She was awesome and made me want to follow her to the ends of the earth.

Next up: LeahPeah! I found this beauty hiding out in the backroom of Tangiers and since we got there early for the readings, we bonded. We’re BFFs now. I’m going to write all about it in my diary.

Then I met Kelly who showed us how she always wrote in green pen. She talked about the hair-washing and then broke my heart talking about her mother. But she is aptly named Kelly and I haven’t met a Kelly I didn’t like.

And then there was Erin who read from her high school journal to her teacher and I swear I was transported back into my classroom. Also, I stopped myself from heckling her because I was caught up in the malaise of her youthful prose.

Finally, I have to display this one for my own amusement:

Mallory tried on my clothes from high school. Those are button-fly jeans and a Liz Claiborne sweater and man, the Bershon coming from that kid! That was me. Twenty years ago. I swear!

I need to add Lara to this who is adorable, has great shoes, and kindly picked me up for this event. Ain’t she cute?

*Note to Mallory (since I’m, ya know, a thousand miles away and you got mad at me for calling you last night and asked me (the first question out of your MOUTH, mind you) “Mom. Are you drunk dialing me?” only because of the enormous time change and now? Well, I’m going to write this down for the world to see and just to answer the current question in your head NO, I’M NOT DRUNK MESSAGING YOU, EITHER): Remember this from that Gilmore Girls episode? The coolness of it? Yeah, that’s what mommy can’t afford to go to this weekend. But wouldn’t it be supercool if we were superrich and could go to this superevent?

Edited to add links and a pic of Lara! Oh, and Neil! Neil came out to support us!

Not by Belinda, anyway. The woman has some cojones to have posted pictures of herself doing this. It’s a bit traumatic to look at because I don’t like anything up my nose except my own finger, thankyouverymuch.

A short while ago I reconnected with a childhood friend (Hi, Todd!) and we keep saying we’re going to get together soon (Hey, how about for Erin’s birthday? The 28th? Chicagoland? Think on it.) but last month he sent the following e-mail to me:

Good Morning!

Hey, do you have a childhood pic of you when you were between 11yrs and 15yrs old? You look like my daughter and she does not believe that she is pretty right now. I showed her your pic now and she was like-Wow

How can I resist that?

I offer you a photo I like to call “This Is Why The Photographers Tell You Not To Wear White On Picture Day”

An alternate title for that one would be, “Hello, Forehead.”

The next one is one in which I desperately question my fashion choice entitled, “Exactly Which Direction Should My Hair Be Going?”

This one can be blamed on Star Wars. It was my Princess Leia phase. My mother worked tirelessly to get those damn buns just right.

Note the very crooked tooth in the front. “I’ll take ‘Six Years Of Braces For $2,000, Alex.’”

While I was busy scanning these, I thought I’d throw in an extra one where my mother took the leftover Christmas ribbon and put it in my hair. I used to love that.

I am SO rocking the polka dots in that picture.

Oh, what the hell. There’s no reason to stop now. The pièce de résistance:

Vividly and with great remorse I can recall my mother saying, “I love your hair, Kelly! Let’s pick it out! In an afro! OH, I LOVE IT. Afros are so hip!“

Needless to say, I did not love it at the time. It’s humorous only now after I’ve been scarred with countless bad haircut experiences so much so that I go in once a week just have someone else do it. Yes. Like a little old lady. Like The Blue Hairs. Like a granny.

Since Todd wanted some pictures up to 15, I thought my first prom picture would be appropriate.

Note the “Angry Eyes” again. Why do I take pictures while squinting into the sun? Why can’t I relax my forehead? WHY AM I SO UPSET ABOUT HAVING SUCH A BIG FOREHEAD? Could it be that my sisters called it a “fivehead”?

Since I’m now in the fetal position because of these pictures, do you think you could comment nicely? Be kind. Oh, and since it’s also National International De-Lurking Week, you kind of have to. Ignore the preposition at the end of that sentence.

And stop laughing. I know you’re laughing.

In order not to push people down in front of me when the holiday shopping madness begins, it’s important that I figure out ways to entertain myself.

Like teasing my husband when he accidentally shoplifts a bracelet. (Merry Christmas, Mallory! We hope you like it!) It’s fun to shop with him because he is a no-muss, no-fuss kind of shopper and since I know what I want before I go out, we work well as a team. This is to his credit. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work the other way when he needs to work on a home project.

A what? A screwdriver? Huh? I don’t know how this works. Is that a paint can? A packet of tulip bulbs? You want some Kool aid?

When he does home projects I turn into Helen Keller and pretend that I can’t understand him as I mouth “WATER” which actually comes out as “ANG-ARRGGLLL”. I’ve learned my lesson on such things, but normally I will start a project that I wanted him to finish.

I’d leak all my secrets about how I get him to do things, but he does read me and I don’t want him to know. (Ok. One thing: playing R.E.M. very loudly makes him want to work on house projects. I’m not sure why that is. It just does. Hence, today’s post title.) (Oh! If you’re an R.E.M. virgin, go check out that song on iTunes and while you’re at it, download the free Sufjan Stevens song “That Was The Worst Christmas Ever!” because it’s hilarious. And sorta sweet. All at the same time.)

People watching is a great pasttime, but making up stories to go with them is one of the things that helps me not push them down. On the hard ground. To make them bleed. There’s never any warning to this game, either. It’s an organic process.

Ready? Two young girls and the baby between them. Who is the older guy with them?

Umm. Mormons. Those are his two wives. I just can’t figure out who the baby belongs to. The one in the red? The white? They look like they’ve never had kids. What are they? 12?

Are you sure he’s not the grandpa? He could be.

No, he’s got that I’m-virile-and-don’t-you-forget-it look about him. He’s banging those broads.

Aaaaannnndddd….he’s bringing them home to meet his mother.

You don’t “bang” someone and bring them home to momma. You bang them and then run into your mother at the grocery story and hurriedly introduce them. Then, you run into your mother at several other places until she insists that you bring Mr. or Miss Bangable around for dinner so your mother can formally reject them. That’s how this works.

Hmm.

Yep.

Ready to shop again?

Uh-huh.

Kick ass.

My work here is done.

*Tomorrow I promise to post about the final count of donations (They are still coming in - I’m still getting e-mails. Holy donations, Batman! You people rock.) along with pictures of the gifts. Did I mention to y’all that someone sent me a $150 e-card from Target? Or that Chicago Dave also sent me 2 bags of coffee? Or that I love you? Yeah, I mentioned that last one, I’m sure. Thank you, everyone!

*GAH. One more thing. I made a total elf of myself. Dancing. Shaking my groove thang. You know, getting into the holiday spirit. Go see. Geez. I’ve gotta get well soon and get back to work.

Where has my brain gone? Who took it because I’ve been looking since yesterday and it’s not in my sock drawer. It’s not in the laundry chute (though I did find a little yellow plastic piece from the Risk game my boys are currently obsessed with) and it’s not in the piano bench.

Being a list maker and crossing things off the list isn’t one of the things I do well. Floating concepts swim around in my brain fluid and I have a pretty good idea about what needs to be done.

Here’s what I do well:

1. I make a fantastic Strawberry Bread. Easy as can pie (or bread), but don’t ask how many calories are in it, because neither do I know nor would I ever care to know. But everyone loves it.

2. My hearing is really good. That’s because my eyesight is for shit.

3. Reading fast is a gift that I didn’t have to practice, it just happens like that for me and sometimes when I know a book is good and I want to savor it then I must force myself to slow down, put the book on the coffee table, and walk away from it.

It’s that last one that bit me in the ass last night. While setting some minor goals (doing the breaststroke in my cerebral matter) in order to set aside some time to try to watch tv, it became clear to me that I should probably finish three chapters of reading for school and take the requisite quizzes online that follow them. Reading an entire chapter on collective bargaining isn’t my idea of fun, but it’s information I will need to know so I didn’t think anything of it when I finished it and went online to take the quiz ONLY TO REMEMBER THAT MY PROFESSOR CANCELLED THAT CHAPTER.

I surfed online for some music instead.

Then, I danced around the house to release some energy. It was either that or consume several tacos with a side of fried chicken. Trying to keep the weight off, people.

My purchases (I buy music legally because I’m morally superior afraid of getting caught) included a mixture of songs I’ve previously owned on either album or cassette and have yet to convert to digital: (Yes, there were exactly ten)

1. Missing by Everything But the Girl. Just because it’s a great dance song and I loved their melancholy stuff when I was in college. Wait. I’m STILL in college.

2. Rompe by Daddy Yankee. I’m a tramp for reggaeton.

3. Close to Me by The Cure. This is entirely her fault. She made me watch the video of her showing her underwear (you weren’t going to click the link until I said “underwear”, were you? mmm-hmm…) and I loved it. Mostly, you should go to hear her son, Parker, say the. cutest. thing. Next time I see her, I’m squeezing her until she explodes. (Also, it’s kind of funny that her title addresses her readers with “You Know You Wanna” while I’m on this kick about the “You Should…” titles that someone dared me to do. Why hasn’t anyone talked me out of this yet? That adorable, albeit finslippy-ish, Alice did the same thing last week, too. What’s with these chicks stealing my “YOU” titles, eh? Is there a YOU epidemic? They know I tease because I love.) Anyway, Close to Me is playing in the background of Jess’s video and now I do believe that she owes me 99 cents.

4. Trouble by Coldplay. Mallory took the CD with her to college. I guess that’s ok since it belongs to her, but I still wanted to hear the song.

5. Money Maker by Ludacris. God help me. I can always claim that I want to run to it, right?

6. Just Friends by MusiqSoulchild. Mallory also has this and let me borrow it recently, but it’s scratched. (Dear Mallory. I didn’t do it. Love, Mommy)

7. Steal My Kisses by Ben Harper & The Innocent Criminals. Cute. Never had it before. Yes, it’s older, but I still love it.

8. Moody by Bitter:Sweet. Oh, shut up. I am NOT moody lately.

9. Dirty Laundry by Bitter:Sweet. Yep. They kicked ass on that first song I heard, so I bought another one.

10. The Mating Game by Bitter:Sweet. Holy Bossa Nova, Batman! This track is my favorite and I’m putting it last in the hopes that you go to iTunes (or wherever you buy steal your music) and get this one right now.

After much searching about this song and the group Bitter:Sweet I found out that this song was featured in Grey’s Anatomy this season. You know that show. That’s the one I haven’t seen ONE NEW EPISODE OF since I have class on Thursday evenings.

How to describe Bitter:Sweet? Well, I’ve just compiled all the things I read about them right here: heavy on the horns, sultry, Bossa Nova, electronic, “classic spy film” music, loungey. Goldfinger came to mind when I heard them.

You’ve probably already heard of this group and I’m all late to the party. In which case you are rolling your eyes at me and sighing loudly for my benefit. Consider, if you will, the fact that you will want to take out your spy glasses and do the Cha-Cha when you listen to this song.

It’ll be good for you. Consider it and maybe, just maybe, I’ll share my tacos with you.