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Friday, December 26, 2003

My Mother = Cool?

I have been listening to my old vinyl weekend. By old vinyl I mean I have owned it for three years. Before that it was my mum's record collection and it was hers for considerably longer than it was mine. Thats right. I have a carry case full of great CDs in the trunk of my car and several shiny new White Stripes CDs in my pile of new presents, but the plastic wrap is still on them. Because I have been listening to my mum's records on my $12 thrift store record player (thanks Catholic Thrift!) And I have come to one very startling conclusion:

My mother was COOL. Not Led Zeppelin or Rolling Stones cool. Not even Velvet Underground or so-lame-its-cool Beegees cool. My mother was COOL cool. Aside from the obviously cool things about my mother, those being the fact she always spots me a fiver if I need cash and the fact she saw Star Wars 16 times in the theater, I keep finding more. I thought I was a hipster when I stopped wearing makeup and grew my hair long and started listening to Abbey Road all the time in high school. Turns out my mother beat me to the punch by over 20 years. Seriously, how could I have grown up with this woman and not known how folky-cool she used to be? She has my favorite Cat Stevens album! I didn't even know my mother liked Cat Stevens. I thought I was being so clever when I decided I did. And today I learned who sang that Lime in the Coconut song. It was a guy named Harry Nilsson. Yeah, she has his album too. Cool. So I got her A Mighty Wind for Christmas. I know I'm pretty savvy on this music stuff, but she'll get a million times more jokes than I will. She's THAT hip.

Wednesday, December 24, 2003



Happy Eve of the Christmas, all! I have had a bit of time lately to ponder what I should say on my own personal holiday season, and this is basically what I cam eup with:

Blah blah blah blah thanks to my friends blah blah emotional thoughts blah family blah blah wonder what stuff I'm getting blah blah blah lights are pretty blah blah some dvds would be cool blah blah love to you all blah.

Blah blah,

Linden Blah.


No, in all seriousness now. I'm surrounded by supercool friends and my family is full of crazy funny people who don't see each other that often all in the same room. This might be a good thing. But we do have a chaotic funny-as-all-hell holiday season with a few buffet lunches thrown in, and they're good peoples. I breathe a HUGE sigh of relief when Christmas is over, but I do love it. Its the one time of the year where you have to stop and take stock of your life, loves, and loved ones and realize what it is you've actually got. You have to admire a holiday that can do that.

See you all on the Twenty-Sixth! Next stop, New Years Eve!

Monday, December 22, 2003



What the?

Oh, right, I used to write in this blog. Its been so long I'd forgotten. I apologize. See, I've been out and about at rehearsals for my play (opens January 15th!) and moving into my new apartment. Yes, I moved again. No, I don't want to hear about it. I know I only moved into my last place in August. Meh. Add to that improv shows on the weekends and the Christmas stuff I put off as long as I possibly could and you've got the recipe for instant den of slack.

Fa la la la la, la la la la.


Sunday, December 14, 2003

Today I choose to guest-blog. Guest-blog is my way of saying, I'm a lazy, lazy girl who was out late last night, just woke up, and decided to copy sections of a funny old e-mail from my friend Mirandor onto my site instead of coming up with my own material. So here it is. I'm gonna go watch the television.



No, but don't you think knitting would be a cool thing to know how to
do? How does one learn to knit? I mean, say you buy a pair of needles
and some yarn. Then what? Unless you have an informative Grandma,
you're
SOL. I mean, what, is there an instructive video series that teaches
you
how, called like, "Knitting: nature's way of making sweaters." And then
there could be, "Crocheting, knitting's tricky cousin." Yeah, that's
what there'd be. Tricky cousin.

Friday, December 12, 2003

Wha??



Sex bracelets? Oh please. Can you say urban myth?This is one of the reasons I'm so glad to be out of the public education system and out from under my parents' roof. Any time a bunch of kids jump on a trend there has to be something sinister behind the entire affair. Remember when everyone thought that if you just pierced one of your ears, or instead of double piercing you just added a third hole on one side, that if it was on the right side it meant you wanted gay sex? Maybe in big city gay bars, kids, but I doubt anyone at your middle school really wanted to hook it up flaming with you. Are parents really this paranoid? Do they really believe their sons and daughters are so maniacally bent on staging secret pre-teen orgies that they would invent a code based on colored bracelets to keep the conspiracy a secret? Once again, I direct your attention back to the fact that in the past, parents have also considered tampons, low-rise jeans, long hair on boys, pointed bras under sweaters, doc martens, lipstick, pants on girls, and carbonated sodas attacks on modesty and common decency? Please, people. The fast drumbeats in rock and roll music were not making your teenagers sexually promiscious, the Beatles haircut wasn't ruining boys characters, short poufy formal dresses did not make more kids have sex on prom night in the early nineties, and girls wearing boots with a skirt are not advertising lesbian tendencies. Its a trend. Remember when your older kids were all dressing like the spice girls? Trends. Fashion is not out to destroy you. No matter how hard you try, your kids will never dress like conservative forty-year-olds. You can't scare them into it. Your clothes are not cool. Its no wonder your kids don't respect you. You are obviously high-strung and very, very gullible.
Also, here's some site, by "adults" stating the facts. Phew, good thing THE INTERNET is here to help us out with this conundrum. Because we can believe everything it tells us. Safe, reliable internet... where would we and our urban legends be without you?

My final thought on the subject is how amused I am to learn what all these colors supposedly mean. I own jelly bracelets myself. Mine are blue and black. If this whole sex bracelet thing were true, woo diggety would I be in trouble.

Thursday, December 11, 2003

I take it all back. Heber must be burned to the ground and the earth salted. The pizza places close at ten o'clock at night!! Ten!! The grocery stores close at eleven!!! What are these people doing at midnight? Obviously not looking for a snack. Damn them! Damn you, Heber Pizza Hut! Damn you to hell!

Wednesday, December 10, 2003

Da na na na na, This Sucks!



I'm in Heber. It is boring. I don't know why I have such a beef about this town, but it brings out the attitude problems in me. I don't smoke, I don't particularly feel the need to start smoking, but when I'm walking down Main Street here I just feel this massive need to be flicking ash off a cigarette and saying "fuck" alot. Why? Its a mystery. I just don't like Heber. Fact of life. I chalk it up to the fact that I'm a liberal fashionista oddball who enjoys beatniks and theater, and this is the kind of place that practically considers the first day of deer hunting season a national holiday. I went to a high school that was 1/4 the size of my middle school in Salt Lake AND located next to a dairy farm. I never really had any friends here and I don't like country music or pickup trucks. Its just a bad mix. Some things I do like about Wasatch County, however:
The price of haircuts is excellent. For a cut and color that would set me back seventy-five dollars in Salt Lake I only spend forty. The mountains are spectacular. Its wicked close to Park City for the Sundance Film Festival. No one else is driving as fast as I am and it makes me feel cool. Things that everyone knows about in the city, NO ONE in Heber has heard about. I can sound like the hippest, savviest, trendiest, most boho chick around when I start talking about tea drinks with boba beads in them or how I saw a friend's band play at Monks House of Jazz last night. For all they know, I am the queen of Salt Lake nightlife! For that matter, nightlife in general, not found in Heber. Small town people do not have late night fun. They do not go dancing, they do not hit afterparties. They barely have parties to hit. They do not club, go clubbing, meet people at clubs. There are no clubs. If you are in Heber and you mention that you have been to one of these after hours activities, you will be asked more questions than one of those guru men who live on the tops of mountains.

I still prefer Salt Lake though.

Monday, December 08, 2003



Ah, the life of a complete idiot. I am homebound today, all my errands have to wait. I woke up, got dressed, even put my hair up in a clever little ponytail. But where are my keys? Where? Not in the couch. Not in my purse. Hmm, not good. Not good at all. Not on the top of the fridge, either, and I know because I checked. Twice. The only possible conclusion is that somewhere between my car and my house a vortex into the past, or possible the future, poofed into existence and made off with my keys. So I can't go to the gym or the store. I can't pick up my prescriptions or drop off Christmas cards. I am stuck here, all by my lonesome. On the plus side I read an old issue of Mystery Date and cleaned my room. Um, yay.

Highlights from my Vegas weekend!

My roommate, leaning against the window of our very very high hotel room and saying "You guys, this is how Spiderman must have felt the first time he tried to swing off a building!"

The phrase "I want to live in a world where I can kill my pimp by shimmying him to death."

And then we were walking through Bellagio and a guy smiled at me and said hello. Bear in mind this had been happening all weekend, not to mention the honking and drive-by catcalls and men offering to take us clubbing and/or to bed. He puts out his hand like he wants to shake mine and I instinctively put mine out to shake his. Instead of shaking it he grabs my arm and starts pulling me away from my friends towards the door, the entire time maintaining eye contact and talking to me pleasantly in spanish. I'm so incredibly amused by this I'm not doing anything, just standing there smiling in disbelief. Miranda grabs my other arm to try to pull me back and this guy decides, hey, look, another girl! and tries to pick her up with the other hand. We use this moment of distraction to pull away and walk off rather quickly into the casino. It would have been scary except he was just a happy bumbling drunk and it wasn't an angry grab. It was more like he was trying to juggle a few cans of soup in the supermarket and walk to the cash register.

In conclusion, we drove somewhere and then drove home. The end.

Friday, December 05, 2003

Your Usual Table, Mr. Papa Giorgio?



So long, suckers! Back on Sunday from the city of sin.

Wednesday, December 03, 2003



I want to be thin. Okay, that sound I hear is the sound of every single person I know smacking their foreheads and shaking their fists at me. I can hear them now. "You ARE thin!" But I'm not! I'm thin, but I want to be thinner. I don't care if I'm looking okay. See, I want to be perfect. Perfectly perfect. I know this is the frame of mind that turns normal human beings into scary skeletor creatures who waif around in see-through Gucci slip dresses and consider ranch dressing a spurge but I can't help it. And I don't want to be like that. I just happen to like the idea of a lovely flat tummy and no jiggly bits. Is that so much to ask? I'm healthy, but I'm impatient. I want to be in good shape and its taking so long to do it. I was always a total twig in high school. I coudn't keep weight on. Inevitably college struck and like most froshers, I gained weight. Only somehow I managed to gain FORTY pounts instead of fifteen. Here I am, three years later, and I'm finally back to where I started, basically. But I still have a few pounds to go and three years is a long time to be sitting around busting my butt at a gym and not having cake with my dinner. I go the gym five times a week, and I like to think I eat responsibly. Why can't I control what I look like? So I lied. I don't want to look thin. I just want to look strong. Fit and strong. With a glow of health. Although now I think about it, the glow probably comes from a makeup or something. Want a fun self-esteem comic? Read on.

Tuesday, December 02, 2003

Sorry I haven't been up to full posting speed. Things have been getting ca-raaazy here in Salt Lake. No, thats not true. I lied. But things have been as crazy as they can be for an unemployed single person with no large-scale hobbies. I got the lead in a Westminster production of 'Dentity Crisis, which is awesome. That weird rattle in my car got so bad it was like driving a giant percolator, so I finally got it fixed. It was either that or be shaken to pieces while driving. Still no sign of a job but at least I have a fun trip to Las Vegas planned for this weekend. How, you ask, will I pay for this trip to Nevada? Its simple. My father got me the room on a discount. Also, I haven't purchased or eaten real groceries in over a month! Thats how clever I am! That cash should cover at least one Excalibur buffet, if I'm not mistaken. And one buffet is all I'll need to fill my purse with bread and fruit wrapped in placemats.

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