An intimate evening with Naomi and Ryan

Naomi: "Ugh, I am so greasy from eating those chicken wings. I'm covered in chicken grease."

Ryan: "Well it's your own fault for getting the wings instead of pizza."

Naomi: "I didn't say it was a bad thing. Maybe I like being covered in chicken grease. If I had to be covered in something, chicken grease would be at the top of the list."

Ryan: [pause, suggestive look]

Naomi: "Yeah, that's way below chicken grease. Like, around number five."

Ryan: "Really?"

Naomi: "Yeah, One, chicken grease. Two, pretty clothes. Three -"

Ryan: "Chocolate-peanut butter sauce."

Naomi: "Of course. Three, chocolate-peanut butter sauce. Four, um...self-confidence. Then that."

Next Sunday Ryan and I are going on vacation to Orlando. Or that's the official line that I give to people. Privately we are going to DISNEYWORLD!!!DISNEY!!!MOTHERFUCKING!!!WORLD!!!YEAH!!! Because we are EXCITED. Ryan is way into Disney stuff. I think it's because he never went as a child. I personally am way into trips that don't require much effort, and an amusement park resort fits the bill pretty nicely. The Disney bus picks you up from the airport and takes you to the Disney hotel, then another Disney bus takes you to a Disney theme park, then you go on Disney rides and eat Disney food, and at night you take another Disney bus to a Disney night club, then back to your Disney hotel room. Disney, everywhere, non-stop. You sell your soul and a good portion of your brain, but it's so worth it.

Also, they brought Captain EO back last year after Michael Jackson died!! This is the greatest exploitation of personal tragedy since Memorial Day!

So now that we're within a week of the trip, the excitement levels are off the charts. We went on errands today, but not just any errands, Getting Ready For A Vacation Errands. Which, as you may know, are the best errands ever. Travel-sized toothpaste! Sport band-aids for blisters! Ponchos! Antacids!! No bread, because we already have enough bread for the next week!! Snacks!! Less than three ounces of various liquids!!! New tennis shoes, or is it too late to break in a new pair, because you don't want to be breaking them in on the trip because we only got the small box of blister band-aids!!!

And on it went, until we found ourselves at the deli counter of the Bloomington Walmart, where I made the fateful decision to get chicken wings instead of a slice of pizza, resulting in the above conversation. And then we went back to talking about Disney World.

So, just to recap: The only non-Disney related conversation Ryan and I had this afternoon was a lame bukakke joke.

We are the coolest people we know.

Inanimate object grudge match

Fact: I am awkward in social situations in which I feel out of place. Evidence: Last year's Ivey Awards, which I went to less because I had any reason to be at an awards show that celebrated Twin Cities theatre and more because I wanted to wear a pretty dress. So I did that. And I was awkward.

How awkward, you ask? Well, I felt totally out of place because in contrast to every single other person in attendance I'm neither an actor nor conventionally attractive. Also, this was around the time that I had learned that I'm only black in profile, so that was weighing pretty heavily on me. Oh, and I should mention that I was wearing a backless dress with a super-plunging neckline, so the whole night I was worried about how much I was exposing (no link there, just to be safe). But, as they say, actions speak louder than oddly-shaped bodies. Which must be why I also managed to compare a talented performer to a silly internet cartoon character to his face immediately upon being introduced to him, and somehow accidentally got to first base with a platonic gentleman friend (again, it's best not to link).

This was all without benefit of alcohol, too. Good lord, I am awkward.

But not this year. This year will be different. I have a plan. A fashion plan.


The inspiration:

(not the best picture of the dress, but I loves me some Lily Allen)

The plan:

And the supplies:

So watch out Iveys; I'm coming for you with a vengeance. I can't promise I'll be less awkward, but I can promise I will be fabulous. And really, I think that's the best anyone can hope for.

Photo sources: 1. 2. 3. 4.

I'm having an affair with my Google Calendar

Upcoming, by week:
1. Handbell practice starts
2. Ivey Awards
3. Vacation to Orlando
4. Columbus Day holiday
5. Class project due
6. First handbell performance
7. Halloween
8. Veterans Day holiday
9. Class project due
10. Thanksgiving
11. Advent starts (free Wednesdays!)
12. Final week of classes
13. Church Christmas music Sunday
14. Christmas. FINALLY

So. There are ONLY 14 major events between now and Christmas. Some of them are even fun things! I can do this; I've done this 26 times already...and each new time gets me (hopefully) closer to the day that I will not be so busy in the fall!

On the plus side, having a blue tub is basically the same thing as having a pool

(Happy Labor Day weekend, everyone! While most people lament this weekend as the unofficial End of Summer, I am celebrating the official beginning of Why it is Awesome to Work at a Bank, because from now until March there's at least one paid holiday per month. So, the rest of you, have fun being at work on MLK Day. Bitches.)

Back before I was living in sin with Ryan I was way into bed sheets. I have a queen-sized bed with a pillow-top mattress and I think at the height of it I had close to 10 sheet sets. Fancy sheets, in every color of the rainbow, each more thread-county than the last. And oh, the duvet covers! I coordinated my sheets to the season, guys, and I'm not ashamed at all to admit that. My bed was an experience.

But now that I have a roommate who's also a bed-mate that's all fallen by the wayside. We each have our own bedrooms with our own beds, but I spend a lot of time in his room (in his awful, small double bed with the saggy mattress...it's just not fair), so I'm not as invested in the look and feel of my own bed anymore. This was made painfully clear to me a few months ago when I realized I still had my Christmas flannels on my bed...in the middle of summer.

So a few weeks ago I decided to revive the old obsession and went digging through the things that never got unpacked when I moved in three years ago for my favorite sheets, a baby pink 300+ thread count Egyptian cotton set. The fitted sheet looked okay, but the flat sheet had been exposed to the basement grossness, so I threw it in the wash just to be safe. Good idea, right?

Except that I threw it in the wash with a cheap-ass green beach towel from Walmart that I had just bought. And this happened:

That, my friends, is the color of failure. And I should know, I'm kinda synesthetic.

So I decided to make lemons out of lemonade and dye the sheet. I've only ever used fabric dye once before, and that was in the washing machine. This dye (if you can't tell from the picture above, it's navy blue) didn't have instructions for that method. Luckily, I had an extra garbage can, the thinking man's washing machine.

You put the water in the trash can, put the dye in the water, and put the fabric in the dye. Then you stir and stir and stir (this is where the washing machine would have come in handy). It smells awful, and despite your best efforts, you are getting dark blue everywhere, even your hands, even though you're wearing gloves. But keep stirring. Say to yourself "Double, double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble." Then spend a few moments contemplating fate, revenge, and how weird it is that they knew how to do c-sections in medieval Scotland. That'll take a couple minutes. You still have an hour to go.

Once the hour is up (and you only have to stir occasionally after the first 15 minutes, so the time goes pretty quickly), it's time to rinse the fabric out.

All I could think of while I was rinsing was "How am I gonna get all of this blue out of my tub?" And then I thought, "acid, of course." Because I am a nerd. And also, an idiot.

After the rinsing, which takes almost as long as the mixing, and is just as skin-staining, you throw the fabric in the washing machine (without anything else, lest you start this whole ridiculous cycle anew). And this is the result:

Not too bad. The color in the picture isn't very accurate; it's not so purple (although in a few places is looks tie-dyed. Guess I'm not that good at stirring). As much as I loved these sheets I think I'll use this for sewing now. So watch for a crapload of blue things in the future. And picture me sleeping in a double bed with scratchy camo sheets, and pity me.

GAGANACHT

(alternate title: noche de Gaga. Those are the only two languages in which I know how to say the word "night")


I still have a larger, more word-based post to make about the concert itself, but here are some pictures!


Outside the Xcel - right before getting our picture taken by an intern from KDWB (radio counts as media, right?)

Heather, rocking the eyeball necklace she made, while someone's dad looks on. There were a lot of dads at this concert, and I've gotta say, it was kinda weird.

Here I am* in the gyroscope from the concert poster. The gyroscope is not the "Monster Ball." That is one of the many things I learned that last night.
*not pictured: pants

Our view of the stage. Great seats! Here I must pause for the obligatory: I have the best boyfriend ever (he got me the tickets for my birthday)

I didn't get any pictures during the concert, because all I had with me was my cell phone camera, which doesn't have a flash. So I will need to use many thousands of words to describe the spectacle instead. More to come!