Category — fud

Obviously, I blame Felicia Day.

Honestly, It’s not really her fault. I would have gravitated toward these “historical romances” on my own eventually. I mean, the only difference between these books and the “high fantasy” of Tigana by Guy Gavriel Kay is the exclusion of Magic and possibly an errant dragon or wood elf.

And I will not apologize for liking these things because it is NO DIFFERENT than dudes playing Madden or whatever.

In other news, I keep missing out on fun Mercury things and fun Ben Coleman things because we have issues leaving our dogs alone for any period of time. Dane thinks they’ll chew their way out of the backyard and I think they’ll chew their way out the front door. And the garage seems…mean somehow.

We’re working on it.

Let’s see…Dane’s new fancy startup Simler is in Alpha testing and that is super fun. Watch out Twitter, is all I’m saying. Your days are numbered. No, seriously, one of the tags I created on Simler is “How many days until Twitter dies?” and then we number them. With numbers.

I went to Uwajiimaiajamajawaji with Archie and Melissa this week and ended up in the bookstore sitting in a tiny chair reading a story to Archie. The story was in Japanese so I made it up because I’m a writer and this is supposedly one of my talents – like in Out of Africa when Meryl Streep makes up that story by the fire for Robert Redford and his friend who is into the African chicks. My story was something about a fat fish and some mean skinny fish and a shark. It was a morality tale. Because I’m all moral and shit.

Other than planning Portland’s first Winternet Prom™ I’m not really doing much else right now and while that is very relaxing and my closet has never been so organized I’d like to start work on SOMETHING. Not because I enjoy working (I don’t) but because it makes me sound important and superior when I meet new people and can say, “Oh, I’m working on a book of bad poetry for Harper Collins” or “I’ve been re-vamping the New Yorker Shouts and Murmurs column – adding more boners, etc.” Saying sentences like this makes people want to know you better or punch you in the face. Usually both.

What I am getting at internet, is I am available for fake work. Suggestions?

We went to dinner with some work people last night. I had an arugula salad and a little warm goat cheese with apples and toasted bread. The goat cheese came in this Bunsen Burner type contraption which kept the cheese gooey by heating it with a tea light. Clever! Also, good to know that in the event of a machine uprising we’ll be able to eat warm cheese without the aid of electricity. SUCK IT ROBOTS.

I also had three margaritas. Well, I shared the third margarita with Dane but this was still many more margaritas than I’ve had in months and I was a little tiny bit voluble and vociferous and vehement. I was also vorple with my sword but that is neither here nor there.

Anyway, I think I ranted at Dane for like eleven hours about my idea to make a Highlander comic (I’M SERIOUS DARK HORSE CALL ME) and my inability to focus on blogging right now because I’m trying to write for other people and so blogging for myself sounds so…meh. Also I talked about my hair. Obviously.

So, there is a new Wordpress theme which magically transforms your blog into a Twitter-y experience: more like a conversation and less like a peep show. A peep show of the MIND. And of the UNDERWEAR.

Dane SAYS he’s going to install it for me this weekend but we’ll see how that goes. Sometimes he promises me the moon but only delivers the stars which makes me sad because I had planned my whole wardrobe around a moon theme and stars won’t really, you know, go with anything I have and also I think I’m allergic to stars and other space made fabrics anyway so I probably should have asked for something more practical like a cinemascope or a baby bear. Oh well, the more you know, I guess.

I might still be high from that weed pill I took last night. (KIDDING FUTURE EMPLOYERS)

And here is a picture of me in the ladies’ room at Luna Park Kitchen. And confidential to our friend Robert of Shoes on Powerlines, I tweeted it. Oh yes I did because TWITTER IS AWESOME.

#twitterfight !

YOU GUYS. San Francisco has beaches! WHY DID NONE OF YOU TELL ME ABOUT THIS?

Yesterday, at about half past feeling sick from the oppressive heat and humidity, Dane and I said, “fuck it” and took ZZ to the beach. We figured we’d eat sand for dinner and spend food money on a zipcar instead. A zipcar with AIR CONDITIONING. It was glorious.

I took a cold shower first and put my wet hair back in a bun, threw on a dress and some sandals and sprinted to the car. And by “sprinted” I mean “flipflopped slowly but with determination towards the only thing keeping me from ripping Dane’s head off and using it as a parasol.”

So we drove to the beach, parked and let ZZ loose to chase seagulls and poop happily in the sand. I was a little worried about how she’d feel about the water because she has an unnatural fear of baths and rain and wet sidewalks. Weird, I know. She’s very delicate, our ZZ. Even when she has the gas, it’s delicate gas.

But man, she loved the shit out of the ocean. She ran up and down the beach with Dane, her little golden sausage body jiggling and bouncing in a not unerotic manner (what?) and chased the tides in and out and attacked the seaweed and scared the crap out of the little kids (YES). And then some old hippy woman with a white fanny pack (not ironic) and Reebok High Tops (again, not ironic) walked by and gave ZZ the glad eye. I saw the hippy tense up and so I warned Dane that the lady had that “Oh, your dog is so beautiful, I had a dog like that for 18 years but she died yesterday can I hug her with my face” look about her and sure enough the lady bellied up to us (and I swear the word sounds came from inside her fanny pack but that was probably just the ocean air making me hallucinate) and her fanny pack said, “Is that a golden retriever? My grand kids have a golden retriever and they are such lovely dogs and oh I just have to pet her hello sweetie OH MY CHRIST SHE TRIED TO BITE MY FACE OFF!” And then the fanny pack ran away away crying or laughing or something terrible and scary like that.

People. Stop trying to touch my dog, okay? She doesn’t try to touch you.

ALSO, I saw many many youngish brunette hipster girls in bikinis with belly fat and squishy thighs and all manner of pale, not perfect, normal lady bodies and this made me so happy that I might go buy a bikini. We’ll see. I’ll try to keep you updated.

BONERS! Sorry. I’ve been on Twitter too long, obviously.

Rather than tell you what happened to me on Monday night, why don’t you read about it here? DO IT. It was really nerve wracking and exciting.

Tuesday was spent in my pajamas on the couch, whining loudly towards the back office for Dane to get me a burrito while I drank fifteen diet cokes and played Fall Out 3. This is the correct way to deal with a hangover, so I hope you’re all taking notes.

And yesterday, we went to SOMA to check out Citizen Space which is an amazing loft/loading dock with walls which has been turned into a communal working area complete with a programming library, IKEA leather couches, a flat screen tv for video game playing, a kitchen, conference room and a Tribble JUST LIKE THE ONE given to Ferik Penriksen by a mysterious stranger from San Francisco a nebula anomaly in space.

Tribble. Clearly pregnant.

Anyway, I hope all the web developers, graphic designers, and whatnots are cool with me showing up in my pajamas and laying on the couch under a nubby blanket with my laptop on my chest while I “work”. It’s my process. What?

We met with Jaan Orvet who is a web strategist. He will brand you and you will then make a milliondy and twelve dollars as the new branded you. I’m still not clear on the hows and whys of it, but I think it has something to do with three witches, a circle, and a portal through which you must pass some kind of trial before coming back through “branded”. Or something. I think he’s a genius. And very charming. (AND MAGIC)

We went to a coffee shop in South Park and saw the old DIGG offices and a bunch of other internet things and I guess South Park was and is ground zero for the dot com bubble and 2.0 or whatever. It’s super cute there. I wish we had known about that particular area of South of Market when we were looking for a place. I liked it very much.

After our meeting with Jaan, Dane and I wandered over to the Organics building which houses the Wired offices and took a picture of me in the lobby for my friend Earnest “Nex” Cavalli who writes for their GamelLife division and also for The Merc. I did not know he wrote for Wired until yesterday because I never bothered to google him. I wish I had known this because I met all these Wired people on Monday night and it would have been nice to talk about him behind his back. I mean, MENTION him in conversation and say nice things.

Finally, we bought a Dirt Devil Kone yesterday and I expect it to change my life. I don’t think this is an unreasonable expectation, do you?

I can’t get over it. I just…I can’t. AND OPEN TOED SANDALS. WHAT THE FRAK?

Okay, let me start over. I flew up to Portland this weekend to attend the Bagdad theater’s screening of Battlestar Galactica with special guest Katee Sackhoff AKA Starbuck AKA WHITE PANTS IN WINTER OMG WHAT WAS SHE THINKING I CAN NEVER UNSEE THAT WITH MY EYES MY EYYYYEEESSS.

Anyway, I stayed at The Nines Hotel downtown above the Macy’s and my goodness, it was so fancy! And Conan O’Brien was staying there, too but he did not pop by my room to have a glass of bubbly or eat some minibar snacks or to try on my robe or share hair care secrets while watching hotel porn or ANYTHING and this made me sad but I got over it in time to be picked up outside by Melissa Lion and ferried over to Le Happy for delicious cocktails and Portland waiter hugs and some salad I barely ate because suddenly Melissa and I realized that we had been babbling at each other for far too long and we were going to be late to get in to the screening and poor Ferik Penriksen was probably having a small quiet breakdown due to our fucking up of his thoughtful and painstakingly made plans to let me touch Katee Sackhoff in the hair area. So we fucking RAN LIKE THE WIND only in a car, so however a car jogs or runs or whatever, and Melissa parallel parked like only a Californian can (read: excellently) and then we ACTUALLY RAN LIKE THE WIND to meet up with the Mercury people and we made it just in time and saved poor Ferik from stroking out and he forgave us and hugged me and Steve hugged me and I bought Alison and myself delicious margaritas and met Fatboy who was not fat at all and he told me I was much taller than he thought I’d be and I really liked him and then we went in to the theater. And I was a little drunk.

Then a miracle happened and my best friend Sy was standing in front of me and Liam, her husband had gotten a press pass and so they were there too and I was happy.

For the next hour or so I tried to explain nine years worth of BSG to Melissa who listened patiently to what amounted to “cylons are made out of people and that baby is important and we don’t know what Starbuck is”.

I also bought a jack and coke and did not drink it. And I stole some of Melissa’s popcorn and bought Ferik a pitcher of Hammerhead for winning the Race to Witch Mountain bet.

So the show happened and I don’t remember much of it because Katee Sackhoff was sitting RIGHT BEHIND US with her mom and her brother who I will call “Loudsy”. Loudsy did not shut up for the entire time because, I don’t know if you know, his sister is The Starbuck and this means he is Queen of the World and his words are like manna and when they fall upon the ears of peasants (like us) and mortals (like us) it’s as if we are being caressed by golden tipped silk angel wing feathers and the past and the future become everything and nothing at the same time as the sounds of Loudsy, who is the alpha and the omega, settle like a glittering jeweled mantle on our very SOULS.

And then the Q and A began and I have very little recollection of it because Katee’s pants blinded me which I guess was Loudsy’s will so that I could better experience his ambrosial guffaws and whoohoos.

The next day the the Portland Brain Trust met for brunch and it was so unbelievably good to see them all and tell them about my special plans and listens to their goings on and know that they missed me at least half as much as I missed them and I ate some chicken skillet thing which I didn’t finish and then we stood in the rain and pictures were taken of us because we are famous. Or because Zoe brought her camera. Whichever.

And now I’m back in San Francisco. But not for long.

I never get tired of that joke.

I’m leaving for Portland tomorrow! By myself! It’s weird! I’m freaking out! Why are there so many exclamation points today?!!!!!

So yes, tomorrow I leave sunny, homosexual, San Francisco for rainy, homosexual Portland and I’m unbelievably excited. Except for the flying part. I have, not a fear of flying really, but a fear of dying and leaving Dane a widower with two whiny kittens ad a very needy dog. And also plummeting to my death while I try to not pee my pants is sort of upsetting, too.

Anyway, other than that, I can’t wait. I’m staying at The Nines which is Portland’s fancy new hotel above the remodeled Macy’s downtown and I don’t think I have to tell you what the thought of staying several stories above a department store full of new pretty consumer goods and one hundred feet away from Forever 21 is doing to my girl parts right now. They are aflame. AFLAME PEOPLE. My wallet tingles with anticipation and I can smell the J Crew from here. It smells like freedom. And poplin.

And the Nines has plush (their word!) robes and slippers in every room (how do they know my size? Magical!) and those worthless little hair dryers and probably a phone by the toilet because traveling can be hard on the bowelular system and so talking to a loved one while “going” helps I guess? I don’t know. I prefer not to think about that.

I’m going to Portland to see Battlestar Galactica at the Bagdad with my friends and maybe to touch Katee Sackhoff in the hair. And also to have brunch with the ladies of the Brain Trust. And to stay in a hotel and pretend I am famous.

I think I’d better make a list. I might forget to do one or more of these things.

And finally, the big news in the Hesselbee household is that Dane has made the leap to full time freelance web developer thingy. We’re ecstatic. He left Odopod this week – under GREAT terms – and will still be working with them in the future on a contractural basis and helping with the Odopod website that he built. Anyway, this is so exciting for many reasons. Or two reasons. WHATEVER.

1. Dane now has time to work on his own side projects as well as the projects we want to do together – all of the BRILLIANT ideas we have on a daily basis that can never come to fruition because he had to work on someone else’s schedule.

and

2. We are free to leave San Francisco when our lease runs out in the Fall. Yes, this means returning to Portland.

Who’s excited?

Oh! And we are trying to come up with a name for Dane’s business. (Well, my business too. We’ll both be under the same LLC for tax purposes. I suppose I’m his secretary – SEXY – or something.)

Suggestons?

This is because I was so nervous last night that I went on a hunger strike, I guess.

Oh! Iris already figured this out, but the Very Special People we had dinner with last night were Felicia Day and Kim Evey. Kim is Felicia’s producer and also does amazingly funny webby shows like this!

and her husband is the writer/producer ofThe Retarded Policeman which is one of my favoritest things ever.

Obviously.

Aaaannnnd she knows Barb Klansick! My Barb! Of the Portland Brain Trust™!

The world just freaks my shit out you know?

So, mystery solved (!) and it was such a fun dinner and no, no one braided my hair which is my only complaint. Sad. Also, these two are the first ladies I’ve met since leaving Portland that I felt all warm and fuzzy about. So smart! But they live in LA. Like Charley and Pip. BOOOOOO.

Today I am going to do the yoga and make sure I know how to use our video camera and research all the WonderCon people and by research I mean construct an elaborate Power Point presentation illustrating my scheme to successfully get Summer Glau to love me forever. I wonder if I will be allowed to set up a slide projector and maybe some kind of velvet chaise lounge from which I will read excerpts from my as yet unpublished Summer Glau poetry chap book entitled, “Ode to a Summer’s Glau’s Day” which is written entirely in puffy paint.

What?

It’s a long video so feel free to fast forward through parts you don’t like – although Santa and Jesus will know it if you do and you will burn in a fiery burning fire with no Christmas presents and no Gilmore Girls to watch.

It’s up to you, kids.

Cooking Healthy with Dane from Dane Hesseldahl on Vimeo.

The Whole Bowl can suck it. This cost me oh, I’d say, about a buck fifty at the most and was DELICIOUS.

Delicious. Black beans with a little cumin, red pepper flakes, and cinnamon, simmered in Melissa Lion fashion and topped with avocado, plain yogurt, and steamed yellow peppers. Oh! And of course Aardvark sauce. Very important, the Aardvark sauce.

So….The Whole Bowl? You can go to hell. Or, as Dane and I are wont to say to each other in times of marital strife, “Don’t talk to me for five minutes.”

I would very much like to tell the radio cab driver we had this weekend to SUCK IT.

We wanted to go to Taco Bell because well, we were full of booze and everyone knows the only way to get the booze off of you is slather yourself in hot sauce packets and spicy chicken soft tacos.

Anyway, I’ve never ever had a cab driver who judged us so much in a judgey way about wanting taco bell. I know it’s not healthy. I know it’s not organic or free range. It’s probably not even food. I’m not an idiot. But we were in NW and there were no taco carts to be had and, as our friend Dave so succinctly put it -Taco Bell is a very specific food craving.

God, I’m so mad to be justifying this AT ALL.

Basically, when we asked her to stop at the Bell before heading home, she said, “Well, okayyyy but normally I won’t do it because it stinks up the car.” Uh huh.

I’m fairly certain that car was made entirely out of urine and cigarettes.

And she was soooo east side hipster, only east side hipster circa 1997. She had the radio on and was trying to tell us (Us!) about PDX Pop Now as if we’d never heard of it. How could we possibly have heard of it? We were hanging out ON THE WEST SIDE which is anathema in this town (never mind that we were at Wimpy’s) and to make matters worse, she had to drop us off in The Pearl District.

The only reason we took a cab instead of walking home was to get the stupid Taco Bell. Also, I’ve never met a cabbie who minded going through the drive thru – in fact, we usually end up buying them something to eat or drink. This experience did not help my growing mad feelings about Portland. It antagonized me. And my feelings. I’m so antagonized right now. Almost as antagonized as I am at our friend Matt Davis’ post today about gentrification. ALMOST.

This town really needs to choose its battles more wisely. It’s just Taco Bell. It’s not NATO.

I think she was hitting on Charley, too.

In lieu of telling you all the rest of this weekend’s adventures because I am lazy, I’m going to post some pictures Justin took and let you guess what happened.