Listen to FAT MOMMA's theme song

Click on the pic to hear it.

OHMYGOD

The BEST, FUNNIEST, MOST OUTRAGEOUS reality show (of sorts) has landed and it's on the Scifi Channel!

Presenting: Stan Lee's "Who Wants To Be A Superhero?"

The gist is pretty standard stuff: 12 hopefuls live together in a house and we get to see the bombs go off. The genius lies in the fact that they have to be in superhero character 24/7! And yes, they have costumes (home-made). And taglines. And even weird personal noises!

My favorites so far are:


Fat Momma
Fat Momma, Fat Momma, she's here to save the day! Fat Momma, Fat Momma, she'll take your food away! Watch her audition here.


Monkey Woman
She actually does the monkey call very well plus she climbed a tree in one challenge to change into costume - points for that!


and Major Victory
who's REALLY into character.

And this is all of them:

More on the cast here.

Basically, it seems like they got 12 nutjobs under one house. They all had to go through an audition, and they're all very serious about fighting for justice and being true to the superhero way. They dive into dumpsters, wear hilarious costumes in plain view of the public, and for most of them, this isn't a sitcom. They introduce themselves as "Nitro-G" or "Iron Enforcer". Wearing tights and wrapping tin foil on their arms is the culmination of a dream. Striking a "superhero pose" every five minutes, even while doing the most mundane things, is destiny. Like I said, 12 lunatics under one roof. It's campy, it's hilarious, it's insane. And incredibly entertaining.

To Do LIST

1. Make as much money as possible. (Which basically means take in as much work as possible.)

2. IF I get the go-signal to buy a new couch (BIG IF), find a way to go to Ikea in California so I can buy the Klippan. Find a way to convince John to go to California with the car so we can transport said couch. Somehow. Will probably have to drive myself.

3. Inundate China Airlines staff with phone calls. Do this everyday from now until August 26.

4. Finish writing story.

5. Sell all unnecessary items before the move. This includes bed, mattress, cabinets, two TV's, loveseat, shelves, bags, coats, ottoman, leather recliner, divider, two desks + chairs, clocks, microwave, toaster, radios, plate set, etc. In short, everything except books, clothes, shoes, and computers.

***

John and I are definitely going to Hawaii. We just don't have a definite date yet. Which means we could be going "sometime in the future" aka "years from now" or we can be packing our bags in a couple of weeks. It all depends on fate, the stars, and the good nature of the China Airlines customer service department. Which is why I must inundate them with a barrage of phone calls.

***

I will be going to Manila in two months' time. See you soon.

Crushes of the moment

It has taken me a while to realize and accept it, but the fact is I can be very obssesive. When my mind latches onto something, it is truly latched and not even the devil himself can pry it loose.

Case in point: When I was 14 I took an interest in angels. I didn't care for figurines or that kind of stuff, though. What I was really into was the mysticism and the myth behind the celestial ideal. So I did research. A lot of it. I found out that angels have a hierarchy. I found out that there are seven tiers in this hierarchy (or 3 or 4, depending on your source). I found out that Seraphims are at the top of the bunch and they have six pairs of wings. I found out that Lucifer wasn't any ordinary fallen angel, but was actually a Seraphim, a veritable prince among angels. He was God's righthand before he fell into the abyss of hell. I found out that according to one of the apocryphal dead sea gospels, Lucifer's band of rebel angels (almost all of whom were high-ranking) fornicated with humans, spawning demonic children. I found out exactly why they instigated their attempted coup de etat against the all-mighty, and how they were consequently cast out of heaven. I learned about angels names and what their place was in the grand scheme of things. I even learned a little of Moslem angels. In an age without internet and as a student of a Catholic school, this information wasn't exactly easy to come by. But I was obsessed.

These days, my obsessiveness is focused on more prosaic things. For the past two months or so, I've spent an average of three hours each day hunting down Wanda furniture. Since I already have a bed (an exquisite Queen Platform with extended sides in dark wood plus matching headboard with a leather inlay), and we've already decided on the cheap (if ubiquitous) Ikea Klippan sofa in black, all that's left to think and dream about are the accent chairs, drapes/panels, and paint.

And these are my current crushes:

Hollywood regency Club Chair from ebay.
An antique. Very, very cute. It's Mid-Century Modern, which is the design fad of the moment, but it's got good bones so I think it'sll still look cute even when the fad is over and done with.





"Your dads (sic) chair" from Urban Outfitters.
Also came in Robin's Egg. Unfortunately, Urbn.com has depleted its stock at the moment.










I would also love this but reupholstered in a funky fabric. Something like a stripey corduory. Kinda like this, but maybe brighter:








Hah. But reupholstery is expensive here (about $250 for a wingback), so even though I've found similar chairs for only 5-10 bucks a pop, the $250+ reupholstery cost would still make it prohibitive. (Unless someone out there knows of a fairly cheap way to reupholster wingbacks?)

I wonder why nobody has thought of reupholstering wingbacks in modern, funky fabrics yet? I'm sure I'm not the only one who would find this kind of antique-meets-modern thing interesting.

As for paint, I've narrowed it down to actual paint numbers from the Benjamin Moore color chart. It's either red oxide 2008-10 (a deep, dramatic red), deep ocean blue 2058-30, Pacific Palisades 762, or Tulum Blue Ib88 from Ralph Lauren (all of which are bright blues with a bit of green mixed in, very reminiscent of Parisian storefronts).

And the drapes? Ready to go. I've decided on some nicely colored sheers (voile, mostly) and some crinkly silk. All I need to do is measure the windows.

Yes, obessesive indeed.

This always happens!

I just got a call from Westchester College offering me an adjunct position teaching Freshman Comp and some introductory writing courses in the fall! Arghhh! Why do they do this to me??? Why??? Of course I can't take it because we're moving to Vegas, but that was a prime opportunity that could have let me break into collegiate teaching in this country. Damn, damn, damn!

Going in Circles

A couple of weeks ago I came across a desperate post from an old teacher in the dawn of her retirement. She had amassed an enormous amount of books during her heyday as an educator, but was now thinking of moving to a sunnier, warmer place. She was thinking of selling her two bedroom apartment and buying a quaint little bungalow in that little state we have come to know as God's waiting room. She was dying to join her other silver-haired comrades somewhere in the outskirts of Orlando.

The problem, she said, was geting rid of her books. She didn't want to donate them to the library, simply because she had been disillusioned with the New York Library System ever since that day she quit her job as a librarian for a Brooklyn athenaeum. She wanted her precious books in the hands of people who would actually read them and not just auction them off to the highest bidder (ebayers) or worse yet, chuck them all in the dollar bin (The Strand and similar).

And so the desperate post. The idea was simple enough. She would sell you a nice-sized box of books for five dollars if you could write her an email convincing her of your worth. A brief overview of the genres you were into, a short list of authors you found interesting, and a note detailing the amount of space allocated to books in your home would be required as an addendum. Once you were approved, you could come pick the lot up at her house or you could have it shipped to you. And just to make sure you were paying attention, she put up a sample list of her books (not all her books, of course, as that would have entailed the devotion of her retirement years)for good measure. The only catch was that you COULD not choose individual books (although you could make requests).

What a weird old lady, I said to myself. Then I glanced at the list, liked what I saw, and quickly shot her a short grovelling email. (Nevermind that we're moving and I already have 210 lbs of books to worry about.)

The box arrived yesterday. It was certainly a good size for a box, containing 13 books that ranged from F. Sionil Jose's "Viajero" (the only book I already had) to the 3rd Volume of "Studies in American Indian Literature" to Rudyard Kipling's "How the Leopard Got His Spots". There were six books in hardcover, and one was a first edition. A pretty good stack, if I do say so myself.

The only problem is that I haven't read them yet.

You see, there's a bit of procrastination regarding a certain pile of work-related writing that I must somehow suffer through sometime soon. Everytime I even think of picking up a book, I feel wracked with freelance employment guilt (YOU NEED TO MAKE SOME MONEY, WOMAN!). But everytime I try to hunker down to work, I feel utterly and completely BORED. The thought of reading those books has slipped from the lofty perches of inspiration down to the hellish abyss of insufferable temptation.

I am not self-discplined enough to do this. Yet I must get through this rut, one way or another. So here I am again, obviously smack in the middle of not getting the work done.

Lord have mercy.

ON another Note

On the latest Cynthia Alexander Album.

How I long for the day when I can say this relates to me.

alone

i have nothing more to ask of myself
what beginnings i had i have devoured them all
i am empty
i am full
everyday i rise at dawn
i put on my name and paint a big fire on the wall
i pretend the house is burning
the firemen all dead
the house burns all day
it will go on til night breaks
i live in the heat
never burned, never charred
a stiff cluster of pasts goes on
clinging like molds all over me
disrobe me, no future wind will dare
i am dressed
i am not going anywhere
Poetry: Lia Lopez-Chua

Rose Tyler is GONE! Doctor Who GEEKOUT

Oh no. Rose Tyler is gone and The Doctor is all alone again!

The two-parter finale was really fun. Billie Piper as Rose was bloody brilliant in this series. I never would've guessed that she was a good actor. I mean, I sort of remember her as one of those unremarkable little pop tarts in the 90's, and I must say I wasn't expecting much from her at all. But man was I wrong. She played Ms. Tyler well. Good for her.

Now it's Martha Jones (played by Freeman, one of the assistants brainwashed- and eventually killed- by the Cybermen in the final two episodes) for the doctor, the first black companion in history. She's certainly beautiful enough. I just hope she's got what it takes to fill in Billie's shoes. That's 10 million viewers she has to please, and seeing as a lot of them are either barely pubescent, cult followers, or old (I mean this literally) diehard devotees, she's in for a ride.

Wish List for Series Three:
1. Bring back Captain Jack Harness, even for just a few episodes, as he seemed loads of fun.
2. Lay off on the Daleks and the Cybermen and the Slitheen for a while, and think up some other nasty alien species.
3. A glimpse into Gallifrey: what was the Time War all about, expound on the Doctor being a father in the past, more on the Time Lords
4. Categorically RENOUNCE the idea that the Doctor is even remotely human once and for all (I think the thought is just utter rubbish!).

And I have to say, I really liked Christopher Eccleston as the Doctor. I wish he had never left. I like him much better than David Tennant, although David isn't really bad at all. Christopher is just a lot more charismatic, and not quite as over-the-top as David, which I think is a better play. Christopher's more good-looking too, in my opinion, and his Doctor comes across as being smart and funny and experienced without being so smug and contrived.

That's it. Can't wait for the Christmas Special! That was quite the wciked cliffhanger they had there... wonder what they're going to do with the bride?

Weekend Pain

My arms are just about to fall off. Seriously.

I just got back from our annual camping trip. This time we went to Pennsylvania, to a little place called Lehigh Gorge, somewhat near the Poconos. We didn't get to go hiking this time, though. We did something infintely better. We went white water rafting.

We scaled 9 miles of Class II and Class III rapids, got soaking wet, and paddled until we had squeezed every ounce of feeling from our arms. We hit giant boulders, crashed into walls of running water, and nearly fell off when we accidentally rammed our raft into a rock. My thighs are sore, my arms are in much pain, and my back is hurting all over.

Can't wait to tackle Class IV's!

Pet Peeves and Little Pleasures

Okay. To help my nearest and dearest muddle through the chaos that is me, here are two little lists that will hopefully clue you in, just a little, to how I tick.

I got this from an email but the title (and the chain letter-esque concept) was a bit dumb so I'm leaving all that out. Cut and paste if you must, but please leave me blameless.

FIVE Little Pleasures, in random order

1. Getting a package from the Post Office. I like getting packages, but only when the postman actually delivers it to me, and I don't end up trekking all the way over there. I usually get books and clothes, which suits me just fine. I love the giddy anticipation leading up to the day I actually get that little self-planned surprise. I love the thought of having something new to read or wear. I just love the whole process of it.

2. Pretty Things. I know I don't seem like the type, but I do love pretty things. I like pretty clothes made with pretty fabrics in all sorts of pretty textures and colors. I like pretty flowers, although I probably won't take care of them. I like pretty jewelry. I like beauty. I feel drawn to it. My standards of beauty might not resonate with the world's standards, but I don't care. I like surrounding myself with things that I THINK are pretty and beautiful. Dark paintings, old leather-bound books, fabrics from another age, intricate jewelry, unique furniture, and whimsical desserts... ahh my perfect world.

3. Food. I just like the stuff. I'm poor here, so I never have enough money to try out all the best restaurants, but a lack of funds is not enough to deny me my fair share of savory treats. I've made a veritable cornucopia of dishes, some of which were actually really good. I can make crepes, tiramisu, cheesecake, cookies, brownies. And that's just dessert...

4. Writing for myself. I like it when life conspires to give me a few hours of unclaimed time, because that means I can put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard, depending on my mood) and just write away. Deadlines don't matter, they're mere specks in the unending horizon. I can write and not think about pleasing someone else. I don't have to wonder about the companies waiting on my next project. I don't have to worry about how many revisions I'll be asked to make. I can just write and bask in the glory of my own universe. Yes, to be a god. Is that too much to ask?

5. The BEACH. Oh god, this should be self-explanatory to anyone who knows me. The smell of the ocean, the hot tropical sun searing your skin, bikinis, and the unmistakable smell of sunblock in the wind. Ah. Complete and utter bliss.

FIVE Pet Peeves, in random order:

1. Dark, tight spaces. I HATE THEM with a hate made worse by a good dose of FEAR. I can do elevators - if they aren't too crowded and I can stay near the door, planes -window seat and near the door, and buses - again window seat and near the door, movie theaters, and tents, but only up to a point. I hate crawling under the bed. I don't do caves or all that junk. I try not to sit in the back seat of a car, but if I must, then at least give me my own door and a window. (A window I can actually see out of, please. None of that smoky opaqueness masquerading as windows. I UTTERLY DEPSISE TOO-DARK TINT.) And please make it a big, spacious car (SUV's, trucks, minivans) or a convertible. Sitting in the back seat of a two-door coupe and trying to peer through a blackened piece of glass is NOT FUN. It's a nightmare, no matter how drunk or sleepy I make myself. Ugh, the walls are closing in and there's no escape. I hate the feeling of being TRAPPED.

2. Hitching a ride to a party, especially if the party is going to be full of people I don't know. I like the independence and freedom of being able to leave when I want to leave. I don't like waiting for people - I'm too impatient for that. I'm not a "mingler", especially around people who don't interest me. I just don't see why I should make an effort to be nice to people I don't really see myself liking. I mean, what's the point? Again, I hate the feeling of being trapped. And being trapped in a room full of gits might even be worse than being trapped inside a bloody black box of a car.

3. Being told what to do. I ABSOLUTELY HATE IT. I don't care how practical or necessary something is, if you're going to tell me to DO it, then I'm going to be kicking and screaming. I might do it if I don't have a choice, but you can rest assured that I'm going to put up a heck of a fight, to hell with whether it's good for me or not. (As an aside, I hate it when people tell me something's good for me, as if I'm too stupid to judge that for myself. I'm not five and I'm not retarded and I'm certainly not dumb. Besides, if I wanted your advice, I would have asked for it.) More often than not though, I'll probably immediately do the opposite, or worse, do nothing at all and just let you pop a vein in your head as you boil over in your utter frustration. I have a strong contrary streak in me and it really is in everyone's best interests to just ASK me to do something. Because chances are, if you lay out the why's and wherefore's, I'll be happy to do it for you anyway. ASK, don't COMMAND. You catch more flies with honey.

4. Being told I can't do something. Again, with my hardy contrary streak, I might be inclined to do it all the more. Then again, there's always the off-chance that I'll actually believe you, which might then open the floodgates to a whole surge of insecurities, which could then result in innumerable stages of depression, alocholism, drug addiction, and all that crap. Not pretty.

5. TESTS. I hate tests. I hate them all.

So that's it.

Questions of the moment

1. What is the best way to ship over 210 pounds of books cross country?
2. Right now, we figure separating the lot into smaller boxes then shipping them via the post office's Media Mail is the cheapest bet. Any tips on how to actually pack the books? We know we shouldn't pack them with the spines all vertical, but anything else?

Thanks.

* Note: Yes, I'm quite aware that there are other, cheaper ways to get around the problem of transporting my books cross country - not transporting them at all, for example. Selling them to the highest bidder seems like a financially advantageous move, commmon sense tells us. Giving them away to the nearest library would be quite the communal offering, bleeding hearts instruct. And just leaving them where they are seems to be the path of no resistance.

No, no, and no. In the first place, I have never been very impressed with common sense. As John will quickly tell you, I think it is highly over-rated and do not stand for it in the least. I like my heart as it is, thank you very much, and have absolutely no desire to see it reduced to a pulpy mush. And though I have often trod the unresistant path, I find myself in need of a change of scenery. A bit of wind is good for the musles, I hear, so why not a bit of a push, right?

In short, I am not willing to part with my books. Though I do hope to attain a zen-like detachment to worldly things in the future, that time is not yet upon me. I regret to inform you that I am as feverishly attached to my collection of processed dead trees as the average Wall Streeter is to his bottomline. I daresay I'm a bit worse off, actually, as the average Wall Streeter probably isn't best friends with his bottomline. He probably doesn't think of hs bottomline as a kind of surrogate family, always at the ready to surround him with comforting worlds in his hour of greatest need.

Yes, sadly, most of my friends are make-believe. Mea Culpa, mea culpa.

But I stand by my friends, if nothing else. So there.

And so...

So I'm trying to think of a design for the apartment in Vegas. I love New York, and I really have grown fond of this cramped, old, leaking box of an apartment we call home, but I'm SOOOO glad that pretty soon, I'll be able to finally stretch myself out again and live in a place that can express my personality. I feel a little like I've been stuck in an unforgettable but exruciatingly long car ride for three years. The trip itself was incredibly fun and the views and vistas all beautiful and I'd do it all over again and all that, but at the same time, I can't wait for the car to stop just so I can get out and get the feeling back in my head, err, legs.

As you can probably imagine, I'm a tad bit sick of living among boxes/storage bins and putting my clothes in suitcases even though I'm not going anywhere just because closet space is a rare and endangered commodity. I don't like our bland, art-less walls. I hate having to live in a space that doesn't feel like my own. My brain is in desperate need of a true sanctuary - a place I can hole up in without feeling a decrease in the oxygen supply.

Ah... a spacious, almost newly-constructed apartment awaits and I'm so excited I'm already looking at paint samples. The only problem with this whole decorating/designing bit is that I've never actually seen the apartment we're going to be moving into. I only have pictures, and well, pictures can only tell you so much.

Huay. But I'm imaginative. So I'll make do.

For the bedroom, I'm definitely getting a low, kind of Asian-inspired platform bed in a dark wood. I want to put four small paintings on the wall by the head of the bed. And I want opaque panels on the rather large windows. I'm also thinking of painting one side of the room red. Actually, I really, really want a red room. I'd love to make the second bedroom the "red room", but I may have to get John's okay on that.

In the dining nook I just want a small wooden table and 4 chairs. Since there's a window on each side of this room, the panels I choose are really gonna make a big impact on the flavor of this part of the apartment. I'm thinking of ocean blue or deep grass green linen.

In the living room, I want a plush slipper chair (or two), a long black (or other dark color) fabric (not leather) couch, a long and low rectangular wooden center table, and double silk panels on the glass sliding doors that lead to the balcony. Carlo's painting is going to take center stage, of course, and I'd also like to put my other knick knacks on display (masks and stuff from travels) on floating shelves on the walls.

The second bedroom will probably double as office and guest room. I want to put all our computer stuff, the books if they'll fit, and a futon or some kind of couch/armchair in there. If I had my way, I'd also rip out the mirrors on the sliding doors of the built-in closet because they're just kind of tacky and 80's looking to me, but I'm not sure if that's possible yet. And as I've said before, I'd love to paint this room red and make it into a reading room, but we'll see.

The bathrooms are not exactly what I'd call an excercise in good taste, but they'll have to do for now. I mean, yes, I really wish I could retile them and get rid of the little spotlights on one of the mirrors (very showgirl-esque) and have double sinks on one of the counters, but the cost of doing all that is a bit prohibitive. The kitchen is okay and all the appliances are new so I don't think I'll be touching it at all. (Although, I must say that I really don't like the cherry finish on the cabinets. And whoever put the wine rack ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE is a real egghead.)

Thw walk-in closets need work because of their need for more substantial shelving and stuff, but that'll be easy. I absolutely DETEST the carpet (it's the blandest, most generic beige in the world) but I don't have money to redo the floors so I'll just pretend I can't see them. And if John and I start to butt heads with the paint colors, I'll probably just paint the whole place white (because yes, right now it's an incomprehensible kind of light parmesan color) and just bring color in with the drapes. The place has a lot of windows after all, so it would almost be just like painting the walls.

So that's it so far. I'll keep you posted. (No, you don't have a choice.)