Montly archives
'Tis the season of miracles
Ok, it's December 1st which means the Christmas season is in full swing. It also means the miracle season is in full swing cuz HOLY SHIT I JUST GOT NOMINATED FOR BEST PHOTOBLOG AT THE WEBLOG AWARDS! Um, yeah. There's Daily Dose of Imagery, A Walk Through Durham Township, Chromasia, Brown Glasses, Mute... and me.
Excuse me while I have a moment...
Holy fucking shaheeznit. I am so gonna get my ass kicked, but that doesn't really matter cuz holy shit I got nominated for best photoblog. I don't think I've ever been nominated for anything, well, ever! The official polling part of the website isn't up yet but when it's up, is it selfish to ask you to vote for me? Or to at least vote for me in your head?
Anyway...
I nicked this little meme off Char's website cuz I can't think of any better way to start the month off right. Ho ho ho.
1. Real tree or fake tree
If I had a tree it would be real, all the way.
2. Do you decorate the outside of your house?
Building management might have something to say about that.
3. When do you put the decorations up?
Um, er... well *shuffles feet*. Yeah I know, I suck. But come on. Who puts up decorations when they live alone? There's just no point... really.
4. When do you open your Presents?
I'm probably the only 28 year old on the planet who still opens presents with her parents on Christmas Eve. So sappy, I know.
5. What sits on top of your tree?
If I had a tree, it would be a bright shining light of some kind. Angels are nice 'n all that, but I much prefer pretty and glowie.
6. Has it got to be Turkey for Christmas Dinner?
Turkey belongs at Thanksgiving, fool. Ham all the way.
7. What time do you get up on Christmas day? What's the earliest you ever got up?
Hmmm... I recall being up at 6am when I was 6 or 7 years old. I don't know, I'm an early riser so I'm usually up by 7:30 every day no matter what.
8. Have you been Naughty or Nice This Year?
Probably the nicest ever.
9. Have you written your Letter to Santa Yet?
Sadly, no. But if he wants I'll send him a 50,000 word diatribe on drinking, photography, shoes, foreign men, and sex. Aw hell, it'll even have a pretty cover.
10. What will you ask Santa for this year?
Santa can't afford my wish list. So I'm just going to ask for pleasant (entertaining will do too) company for New Year's.
11. Should Santa be encouraged to Drink and Drive by being left out a glass of Brandy or similar?
Santa doesn't drink brandy, m'kay?! He drinks milk and eats the cookies.
12. If you could be anywhere with anyone at Christmas where and who would it be?
I bet the North Pole would be dope. All the elves have the day off so they're probably playing drunken twister and drunken slapper video games (like any of you nerds haven't played slapper GoldenEye? Come on!).
7 truths and 3 lies
01) I once broke my nose being tackled by a football player
02) I have won 6 national tap dancing titles
03) I have a secret fear of being in elevators and hold my breath every time I'm in one
04) I haven't taken an art class since I was 11 years old
05) I used to be a cheerleader
06) I have a tattoo
07) I used to be a cookie taste tester
08) I don't work out
09) I fold my underwear
10) I have posed nude for other photographers
The truth, revealed
I don't care what anyone says... if I can dupe my best friends and my brother, I can lie. Not a single solitary person got all 3 of yesterday's lies correct (unless they were big fat cheaters, not that I'll lower myself to naming any names). There are no prizes because everyone's a loser (awww). Aren't you just dying to know my dirty little secrets.
01) I once broke my nose being tackled by a football player.
This is true. You can't even tell.
02) I have won 6 national tap dancing titles.
This is true. In fact one year I competed with a routine where I was the back end of a tap dancing horse. Wait for the joke.... wait for it... I'm probably the only person on this planet who can certifiably say they won an award for being a horse's ass. Photographic evidence here. That's some hot tail.
03) I have a secret fear of being in elevators and hold my breath every time I'm in one.
LIES! I can't believe everyone except for Rachael thought this was true. Clearly I don't know any of you.
04) I haven't taken an art class since I was 11 years old.
This is true. I'm the only designer I know without any formal training, besides Miss Keira of course. But that's just cuz we used to ditch COBOL to be hungover together.
05) I used to be a cheerleader.
This is true, but I didn't have pom pom's. Only the dance squad got those.
06) I have a tattoo.
LIES! Though I'm still toying with the idea of getting this tattooed on my low back. I don't know. One of these days I might just get drunk enough to do it.
07) I used to be a cookie taste tester.
This is true. My dad worked for a cookie company and used to bring home chocolate samples for me to test and rate. Which when you're 11 is about the coolest job everrrr.
08) I don't work out.
This is true. Once in a while I'll go have a run on the elliptical machine downstairs but for the most part I'm exceedingly out of shape.
09) I fold my underwear.
This is true. I guess I'm not too surprised that pretty much everyone got this right.
10) I have posed nude for other photographers.
LIES! You guys did pretty good with this one by and large. The key word of this statement being *other*.
My mom wanted me to add that my friend and I used to wrap ourselves in saran-wrap and take pictures of the event, but I figured having the whole conversation "that the internet just isn't gonna take that kind of statement the right way" wouldn't go over well. Bless my mom, she really does mean well.
Let your conscience be your guide
Two things today.
First, my silly little photoblog is up for an award as Best Photoblog at the Weblog Awards. The good news, I'm in some seriously good company. The bad news, my head is still sufficiently exploding in to a million tiny little pieces. Check it out when you get a chance (I just hate those people who are constantly telling their readers to vote for them, but I trust you'll do the right thing).
Second, my book cover contest ends tomorrow and I have only had 1 and a 1/2 entrants so far. The good news is that I have the sassiest bunch of smart-assed readers on the web. Seriously, you guys crack my shit up. The bad news, you're also the laziest bunch of punters out there as well. I've had at least 8 people tell me they're going to participate. One more day to enter... free print... (god help you) free copy of my book... MAKE HASTE!
I trust you to make some good decisions today.
[Editor's note: There has been some serious concern from a couple of you that I'm going to post your, quote, designs for the world to see. I assure you this will not happen unless I get your permission first. I am the only person who is viewing your entries. Do keep in mind there's always the strong possibility of Her Postingness's posting if you go ahead and piss me off. So you know, keep that in mind for at least the next 12 months of your life.]
I'm not being creative enough, obviously
Here comes the science. Full article here.
If you're wondering what to get me for Christmas, how about something to let the air out of my head?
Sir Christopher: "Did you hear that Rex is moving and his apartment in Kenwood is gonna be up for grabs?"
Me: "Mmm hmm."
At which point I promptly thought to myself, "Where in the fuck is Kenwood? I've never heard of *that* suburb before." So I hopped on Google and found nada. And basically I thought it was a little strange that an entire suburb would be missing from the internet or that I could have lived here for the past 4 years and never heard of it... but, you know, sometimes those search engines can be liars. There's Woodbury, Maple Grove, Maplewood, Roseville. Doesn't Kenwood kinda sound like one of those, any of those, suburbs?
Ok, so yeah. I know this is the part of the conversation where you're wondering why I didn't just ask Rex or Sir Christopher where it was. But that's because I ASSUMED KENWOOD WAS A SUBURB!
Fast forward to dinner with Shea 2 nights ago...
Me: "Oooh, Shea! You've lived here most of your life. Do you know where Kenwood is?"
Shea: (Nearly choking on her gingerale) "Ha ha ha {gasp} ha ha. Um, Margaret? It's that little part of town about 5 blocks from your house."
I know, I'm a fucking rocket scientist. Coincidentally I *drive* through Kenwood every day on the way to work.
For the past 12 months.
Right down Kenwood Parkway.
God I must be the biggest airhead on the planet.
The votes are being tallied
Judging by the pestering emails steadily arriving in my inbox you guys are anxious to know who the winner to my Uber Book Cover Design Contest is. Sadly, I'm going to delay a final decision until further this evening when I've had a chance to further review all the entries for the 50th time. They were all super fun and fantastic - you guys really do crack my shit up.
But, that doesn't change the fact you'll just have to wait and see.
In other news, things that don't do it for me:
1) When you email me in the 11th hour and ask me, "What was the name of your book again?" More than one person committed this crime and generally knew that being within a 30 foot radius of me would cause the throwing of sharp objects in the direction of their head or worse (which is of course why they safely hid behind an email and followed up a question like that with, "Actually, nevermind. I know better and will go look it up myself.").
2) If you don't know me, this issue can (and was) overlooked. But if we've chatted innumerable times and, more importantly, if you've been on the receiving end of some of my photographs or a pleasant conversation about photography 50 times over, do NOT under any circumstance put the competitor to my sweet Nikon D70 on the cover. As in, the *only* image on the cover. (Roger and I have discussed this violation in private and he assures me that he meant to follow up this atrocious violation with sparkly, extravagent gifts or an orange tabby kitten named Pierre - as the blockhead well should).
3) If you're a guy designing a cover, leave the shoes to the women m'kay? Steve knows I'm talking to him here. I'm not even going to go on about this point because the image he chose speaks volumes:
Bless his little heart, it was in the right place (I didn't even laugh once, honest!).
Stay tuned...
And the winner is...
The winner of my first and only Book Cover Design Contest™ *dun dun dun....* is Chris with a cover that made me gasp a little when I opened it for the first time (click to embiggen). To be honest the font doesn't make me want to do backflips, but the colors are WOW and who doesn't love a picture of a hot chick in a pool?! Plus, she's swimming and I totally have a small swimming scene in the novel. It can't be helped, I think it's fate. Plus envisioning Chris on the floor laughing that a programmer won the contest is almost reason enough to declare him a winner (let's work on the fonts next time, shall we?). So for all his effort Chris is being rewarded with a copy of my book AND a free 8x10 print from the gallery... if he so chooses, that is.
BUT WAIT!, there's more!
God the holidays are getting to me this year and I'm feeling so freagin' generous it's probably going to make me explode before I even get the chance to open presents. In addition to our winner it turns out I've chosen 2 and a half runners-up who will get free 8x10 prints *of their choosing* as well!!! No, they won't get to read the book but WHO CARES?! MORE FREE PRINTS!
The first runner-up is Char, with her rendition of a tall, dark, and gorgeous hunk of burning love. You know, how can I *not* give a prize to her for something like this? Would you just LOOK at those abs? Oh god! Okay, I'm done. Thank you for this Char. No really, thank you.
The second runner-up is Julian for creative use of curves and color. Seriously, women's curves are hot and this one would have had a stronger chance of winning if I had more girl-on-girl scenes written in to the novel. Er, no wait. That came out the wrong way. What I meant to say was, you know, more scenes of girls interacting with other girls... okay, yeah. Whatever. You know what I mean. Sickos.
The 1/2 runner-up is Chris, again, not only because he stuffed the ballot box but because DAMN! This one gets the award for most creative use of duotone. But you know what? It doesn't even need that stupid lame title cuz would you just LOOK! at him? I wish I had more of a main male character so I could have picked this cover. Alas, Mr. Wonderful really has nothing to do with the point of the book and had to be passed over for sassy swimming trunks *sigh*.
Thank you to all the participants... you guys made my month. If you're Chris, Char, or Julian you'll need to email me your address and which FREE 8x10 PRINT you want. Hugs all around, big hugs. Next year we'll play this game again with Steve's book cover behind his back when he asks me to design it. Heh. That'd be all funny 'n stuff.
Merry spammin' Christmas
This is a friendly public service announcement (Don't Panic) for anyone who's replied to my emails (or sent emails) here. Um, yeah. It turns out I got spammed pretty hard, but not only spammed, the fuckers decided to BCC themselves in the process so my webhost shut down my email service at some point yesterday because they thought *I* was a spammer. Big mouth? Maybe. But I'm certainly no spammer.
Merry bloomin' Christmas.
So... if you've sent anything to that address, I pretty much didn't get it. And by pretty much I mean not at all. Please redirect all email to sopheava [at] gmail.com in the meantime until I sufficiently reach through my screen and strangle... SOMEONE!
Everybody's got their something
Yesterday was our department Christmas party and as part of the precedings we had to submit a "tidbit of information" about ourselves that no one was likely to know. I couldn't think of anything better so I submitted the whole, "I was a cheerleader" thing. How lamz0r. "I made out with Julian McMahon" has such a nicer ring to it, no?
Anyway. We're doing our holiday lunch extravaganza and playing this little guessing game of which statement matches which employee... when I finally hear the thing about the cheerleader being read aloud. I could feel my ears starting to turn pink so quickly feigned looking around the room with a very thoughtful look painted on my face so as not to draw attention (my face, it hides nothing). On and on the guessing game went with pretty much every person in the room, men included, getting guessed as The Cheerleader. Except me.
Lo and behold, in the midst of a dead, stupefied silence a random, lone voice in the corner says, "Uhhhhhh.... Margaret?" to the hysterics of the entire room. No really, I wish I had a camera to capture not only the rupture of noise but the look on everyone's faces. Sure someone almost got drunkenly married in Tijuana and had their picture taken on top of a donkey painted to look like a zebra, but HOLY CRAP MARGARET WAS A CHEERLEADER!
Many of you have never met me, but really, can it be so hard to believe? I just don't understand why the whole cheerleader thing really mystifies people. I mean, I get I'm not your bog standard, cookie cutter type of former-cheerleader gal... but can it really be *that* bad? I've had 4 people come up to me since then and shake their heads. At me.
"REALLY?! Wow. I just... not you!"
You guys are killing me, you really are.
Pillow talk
Yesterday Roger and I had a little discussion about the photo I posted on my photoblog:
I do believe that this is the first time I've ever, officially, shown my legs on my photoblog. It also marks the first time I resemble Jennifer Beals in Flashdance. What cracks me up though is how he ended his email:
I'd like to know when Steve became the official Sopheava de Lumiere gauge of how the photographs are fairing? Besides, Steve likes all my photographs. He says I'm the best portrait photographer he knows. (Coincidentally I'm also the *only* portrait photographer he knows). Thanks Rog for making me giggle out loud a little bit.
In other news that has absolutely nothing to do with with anything, you guys wouldn't believe the amount of traffic I get on my site leading to this post. We're talking... quadrupled. Cats and dogs living together, mass hysteria, that sort of thing. It's been 7 months now people, how long can you keep this up?! I haven't had tv in a couple of years, but judging purely by the numbers it looks like a season finale may have just aired. Because damn.
You know.... if I had known that stupid post would be the attention whore on my site I would have, oh I don't know, USED A DECENT CAMERA, or TAKEN A SHOWER, or PUT ON SOME REAL CLOTHES! The internet never ceases to amaze me. Truly.
The class you couldn't take at the University of Wisconsin
Four.
That's how many hair dryers I've been through this year alone. Any chance I had of Santa bringing me cool gadgetry gifts for Christmas was pretty much shot when smoke started billowing out the back end of my hair dryer on Friday. Don't even begin to ask how someone manages to bust up 4 hair dryers in one year with increasing levels of dramatic flair. Because the better question is how I still managed to dry my hair on Friday with a hair dryer on the verge of bursting in to flames. That, my friends, is why I went to college. So I could be resourceful in the event of a hair-drying-mergency. I might never again use all that Macro-Economics bullshit I learned, but at least I can dry my hair in a pinch *and* make a pipe from naught but a little tinfoil (no really, I CAN!).
I must make my parents so proud.
Somebody get out the tissues *sniff*
You know... I just need to share for a moment.
The thing about blogs is they're extremely public and personal all at the same time (a dichotomy that's still finding its footing in the world if you ask me). And of course when I started up these stupid blogs I got the initial, "Oh it's nice," pat on the head. But time starts to take its toll and you always end up offending multiple someones, your co-workers find out about the darned things, your ex's leave crazy, demeaning comments, and the next thing you know your family thinks you're going to get abducted in to a sex ring. Sure there are crazies out there, but my god sometimes the most wonderful things can happen too... and in my world, those wonderful things completely wipe out any trace of the ick.
For instance.
I just received *the* most wonderful email from someone who stumbled across my stupid little photos on Flickr. Seriously, I almost started crying because of what he wrote. Have I ever told you what a huge sappy pants I am? Cuz yeah, I totally am. Anyway... this guy moved to the Caribbean to support his wife as she finishes out school and found my photos as he looked around for pictures of "home" today. And then he took the time to write an email in which he actually used the words "thank you", and "they gave me a warm feeling of home", and "you're a princess". Alright alright alright... he didn't call me a princess but he said so many nice things I almost busted out in tears.
So yeah, I'm just having one of those good blog days where I've received 3 random emails from people telling me how much happier they were for looking at a couple of stupid photos. THAT is one of the coolest things about the internet. Really.
A title I never thought I'd be typing: This meme came from my dad
The other day someone asked me who my hero was. And within a microsecond my first thought was, "I don't think anyone's ever asked me that before!" And a half a microsecond later I thought, "My hero is my dad." And another microsecond later I was trying to mentally fit my dad in to Mr. Incredible's costume because heroes always have cool superhero costumes. ... I know. Just be thankful you weren't born inside my mind.
But really, my hero is my dad for so many reasons. Too many sappy ones to talk about in one stupid blog post. But today he posted a nifty little meme he nicked from a magazine that I'm supposed to pick up too. Because I'm his daughter. And his most favorite.
And you see? My 65 year old father even does memes. How cool is he and why isn't he your hero too?! God damn the guy even bolds 'n everything now. Anyway... here are my answers.
CHILDHOOD AMIBITION: To be a teacher.
FONDEST MEMORY: There's no specific one answer to this question for me. I'm just going to be general and say any time my family was together at our summer cottage when I was growing up. There's a 17 year spread between my siblings and I, and getting everyone together is an awful lot like herding cats. But it's always the most fun when it comes together.
RETREAT: Escaping in to my mind and doing something creative. Whether it's drawing, reading, writing, or driving through the countryside taking photographs.
WILDEST DREAM: A month-long retreat in the Polynesian islands. White sands, blue water, cozy hut on the beach. How freagin' random? I don't even know why I still think about this one... maybe it wins by default because it's been with me so long.
PROUDEST MOMENT: I was moving to Europe for a year and sitting in a plane taking off from the Chicago airport. I remember looking out the small cabin window thinking I was absolutely out of my fucking mind, and at the same time knew it was the single most important decision I had ever made for myself (up to that point).
BIGGEST CHALLENGE: Men.
ALARM CLOCK: It doesn't usually get the chance to wake me up - I'm an early riser.
PERFECT DAY: Waking up early in a house on Crystal Lake (Wisconsin). Grabbing a cup of tea before heading out to the end of the dock with a loaf of bread to feed the fish. Watching the sun rise. Going for a swim. Reading in the shade. Taking a nap. Going for another swim. Grilled something 'er other for dinner. Going for another swim after sunset. Lighting up some sparklers (okay that might be pushing it but you have to admit, sparklers are fun).
FIRST JOB: Changing the TV stations for my dad (ha ha ha, I'm so funny). I think it was filing patient records for a local Chiropractor.
INDULGENCE: Music.
LAST PURCHASE: The person I bought it for reads this blog. If only he could avert his eyes for 2 microseconds...
FAVORITE MOVIE: I freagin' hate this question. How can I pick just one? I suppose the default answer here is The Wizard of Oz, but only cuz I've loved it since I was about 2.
INSPIRATION: Music and people.
MY LIFE ........: Is like a beautiful, colorful, giant, work in progress, oil painting.
There's a storm brewing
Somewhere in Wisconsin my father and 2 brothers have been earnestly watching The Weather Channel for the past 20 years of their respective lives. Which means they've probably been imagining the kind of snowstorm Minneapolis is currently experiencing. Because, well, they'll tell me they knew about it 6 days ago you see. (Honestly I'll never understand the male preoccupation with The Weather Channel. It's just weather. Yes, we have some. So... what's the big deal?)
The snow, it's beautiful. Many, many inches of gorgeousness. And it's still coming down oh happy day.
No thanks to some random hiccup in the cosmic flow of things, yesterday I was informed I would have to be in to work just past 6 this morning. Not only did my alarm actually wake me up today but it was the first time in, uh, a long time I was bleary eyed in the shower. Let me quickly add a "THANK. FREAGIN. GOD. for small, unexpected miracles" because the road conditions were *beyond* ridiculous. And me? I got to drive to work before there was any traffic.
Correction. What I meant to say is that I got to drive to work before my ass was creamed by some crazy suburban housewife in an SUV driving her kids to school. I'm telling you, those bitches are nuts. Put 'em in a big vehicle and you might as well kiss your ass goodbye.
God it's early. I'm so taking a nap later.
In other news, I just have to share my latest conversation with Steve. Steve has been single for a little over 2 years and *boy oh boy* does the guy need a date. Which is why when he told me he met a girl online I almost did a backflip. Thank freagin' god! Anyway, he emails me this morning to make sure I'm not gonna be at this certain Minneapolis event anytime within the next week cuz he wants to take Ms. Wonderful there.
And I'm all, "Ha ha ha ha ha, awww, how cute... HEY! WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!"
And he's all, "Well, I want to make sure you're not around."
And I'm all, "I think 'meeting the friends' should be part of Steve's Standard Battery of Dating Tests."
Steve doesn't like that idea very much and I really don't understand why. No really, I can't! There was this one girl he dated for all of a week (did it even last that long?). We'll call her Jen, cuz, well, that was her name. One night Steve and Jen are out on a date when me and my ex thought it would be fun to meet up with them for drinks at Tiburon. So we do. An hour or two later we walk all of one block back to my apartment where more drinks ensue. Laughing, music, good times, it all ensued. I even recall *someone* lighting a paper airplane on fire and sending it sailing off of my 32nd floor balcony. Ha ha ha, DON'T TRY THAT AT HOME!
Anyway (so the story goes), Steve and Jen leave in the wee hours of the morning after a wonderful evening ... when it happened. They get back to his place and she completely flips out on him like a curmudgeonous, bitter old housewife going through menopause, a mid-life crisis, and demanding a divorce all at the age of 23. Something about "YOUR FRIENDS!" and "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOUR BEHAVIOR!" and "YOU'RE SLEEPING ON THE COUCH!" was screamed at him after only, what, 3 dates?
Okay, but with Steve's record I think he needs all the help he can get. If they're offended by *ME* then there's just no hope. Not only am I sugar and spice and everything nice, but I'm funny and rarely curse in person (no honest!). Plus I only say really nice things about him and make him look good (because what the hell else are beautiful friends good for?). So secretly, I think I'm gonna plot to be at this event just to shake things up. And I'm gonna bring my camera. Cuz I can't think of anything that would bring my readers more entertainment.
Nominations are a bit of alright
Today is the last day for you to vote for your *most favorite* photoblog over at the Weblog Awards. This is the part where I should be reminding you just exactly which photoblog is your favorite, but instead I'll just remind you that the little baby jesus will cry if you do the wrong thing.
In other news, how come I've never seen the movie Annie Hall before? Woody Allen, yeah, he has a few ticks. But the movie... so brilliant. I absolutely loved it and so should you.
That is all.
Snowball.
Last night my friend Shea called. The moment I saw her name pop up on the caller ID I knew she had an agenda. How did I know this? Because I've known her since I was 8 years old and have the videos to prove it (don't ask). I also knew she had an agenda because I just spoke to her 2 nights ago. If she calls more than once or twice a week something is definitely up.
"Hey Margaret. So.... how's it going?"
"Everything's fine. What's up?"
*long sigh* "Ohhhhhhh, nothing. You know, just hanging out with my cat Struessel."
"Oh. That's nice."
And then there was this awkward pause where I didn't really know what to say next because I *knew* she was playing me. Oh I believed she was hanging out with her cat Struessel but also knew that part about nothing being up made her a big fat liar. But she didn't really know how to carry on either so we just kinda... paused. Unfortunately the bitch knows me too well (and has the videos to prove it) and knew she had to work up to asking me what she wanted to ask me. She had to catch me off-guard. Had to butter me up. Catch me unawares.
And of course that moment finally came because, well, my attention span could use some work.
About 20 minutes later she finally said to me, "Soooooooo... I have something to ask you." And by the way her voice went up an octave when she said the word "so" I knew it wasn't going to be good.
"Hmph."
"How would you like a kitten?"
"A, uh, what?"
"Oh Margaret, it's just the cutest little thing ever. My friend is moving to St. Paul and has to get rid of her new kitten because they don't allow pets where she's going. And... and... oh my god it's so sweet. And cute. And darling. And it looks just like Struessel and oh Margaret she'll have to take her to the pound if she can't find a home for it."
This is where I'm feeling trapped, and she knew this all too well. You see, if you've ever met me you know that since the moment I took my first breath I've wanted a cat. My first word, it was probably "kitty". Unfortunately I grew up in a house without animals which means I'm 28 years old and have never had a pet (well, having that goldfish when I was 6 doesn't really count). Consequently it also means that I take my duty as being a good animal mom very, very seriously. So seriously that I'm 28 years old and have never had a cat... eventhough I have an exact breed and name picked out for it already. I even have my second cat picked out already too.
"What's its name?"
"Snowball."
This is the part where I'm literally melting in to my couch as I'm envisioning an energetic bundle of fur hopping around my apartment as it chases its own teeny little tail.... that answers... to the name... of Snowball. How freagin' cute.
"But Shea, I, well, um, I mean, I just don't think I can have a cat."
"BUT SNOWBALL WILL GO TO THE POUND!"
"Shea. First my house isn't kitten-proofed. And then there's all the expenses of getting it shots and neutered and paying to have it in the building. And then it'd be stuck in this little apartment all day by itself, probably throwing up in the corners because it'd have been eating all my plants. And... and... and..."
"I knew it. You *always* have an excuse. I told Struessel just before I called that 'Margaret'd have an excuse.'"
God I feel like an ogre now. But all I'm sayin' is that not only is the kitten not the kind I always wanted, but it already has a name. A name that I wouldn't have picked out for it. The only reason I didn't feel like throwing my horrible self out my 6th story window is because I knew that Shea wanted this cat really, really bad. More than me. How did I know this? Because I've known her since I was 8 (and have the videos to prove it). That's why I immediately went in to Project Hasty SELL!™ -mode and successfully convinced her to pick up the cat this weekend and see if she and Struessel can get along. Because that's what friends do - they convince their best friend's to do the right thing.
This little conversation throws in to sharp relief the fact that all my friends think I have some commitment issues. I beg to differ. They're not commitment issues, I just take being a kitty mom very seriously. And I want to give my kitty a good home. And... and... and... oh who am I kidding. I have commitment issues. But I'm still not getting Snowball cuz she's not what I want. I might have commitment issues but I can still be picky. My search will go on.
I leave you now with my most favorite! cat picture! EVER! This is Menudo.
I predict global domination by birthday no. 5
I was so busy not doing my Christmas shopping that I almost forgot that today is a very special day indeed. So special that all that juicy goss I had planned to spill is getting shoved off my blog-platter indefinitely (awww, poor you). So special that you get a chocolate cupcake. Why today is the day we celebrate sopheava.com's 2nd birthday. In fact, as I reflect on the fact I've stuck with this stupid website for 2 years I'm kind of surprised to realize this is the longest I've committed to anything in, er, a while. And if my ability to commit isn't cause for celebration then I don't know what is!
Let's see... we've been through 2 years, 846 entries, 1720 comments, 4 cameras, 39 designs (wtf?!), 0 seriously demented stalkers, 1 weblog award nomination, 1 novel, 5 hair color changes, 2 readers concerned I'd be abducted in to a sex ring, and finally meeting 3 of my "internet friends" live and uncensored. I never thought I'd type the words, "... readers concerned I'd be abducted in to a sex ring" but there ya go. I also never thought I'd meet any of you internet types live and in person, but damn it's been fun. You guys rock my world, really.
I'm also shocked and amazed by your relatively good behavior. I haven't had to delete any comments nor have I had to bust any moves on your smart little mouths. And there was the one time I seriously entertained the idea of shutting the whole website down... but then I got free stuff which was good enough to hold me through that whole identity crisis thing. You remember. That *one* time I got free stuff *wink*.
To reflect for a moment, at this time last year my photoblog didn't even exist. I had been entertaining the idea of seriously taking up photography again for a couple of years but still hadn't moved on the execution. To be honest the attention it's received totally blows me away... and it's still just a baby! I've been tossing around some new ideas and doing some serious thinking about what's coming next, but you're just going to have to stay tuned for all that good stuff. These things, yeah, they're kinda big.
One of the strangest side effects of this website is all the people I've met. And not so much the people I've met, but if I had a cookie for every time I've heard someone say to me, "You look... kinda... familiar," then we'd be having a real party and not a fake internet party with a fake internet cupcake. I guess I just have one of those faces (man I crack myself up). I'm entertaining myself if nothing else, obviously.
Anyway, so, um, yeah. Happy birthday! See you guys on the flipside.
In which it's obvious I'm rambling cuz I can't think of anything better to post today
Does everyone realize that Christmas is on Sunday?! Sunday, Sunday, SUNDAY?! I don't know about you guys but my Christmas shopping stamina ain't hot. Sure I got the important people presents but that's only cuz I could buy them online. And even then I only just ordered them at the end of last week. I did (YAY!) pick up wrapping paper, bows, and over-priced gift tags yesterday. But now I'm to that part of this whole gift-giving process where I have to trick myself. Here I have these gifts sitting in my closet, absolutely DYING to be delivered to their new homes, and jesus lord the suspense is just eating me up inside. Sure lots of things eat me up inside, but this one's a biggy. I'm that person who loves playing the present guessing game too... "Can I shake it? Is it smaller than a bread box? Is it something I can open in front of my mother?" People who don't like to play the guessing game need to start their Christmas Intervention Programme at my house. Cookies and milk will be served at 3.
I do have to admit that other than the selfless need to GIVE AWAY MY PRESENTS RIGHT NOW, selfishly, at this moment, all I can think about is going to Target tonight and picking up some lights for a photoshoot I have in mind. I have about 5 people left to shop for and, uh, well, I really, really, really want to do this photoshoot. And you know when I'm talking 3 really's, an 'uh', and a 'well' that there's gonna be some risky business ensuing. I *need* to do this photoshoot. The future of my career as a photographer *hinges* on this photoshoot. I'm an artist. A tortured, starving artist. My creations are not my own. When the energy hits I just have to go with it man. The creative process is bigger than I am. Who am I to question it?
How'd that work for ya? Convinced yet? Mm hmm, me too. There are some photos going down in the house of Andrews. But if you think I'm telling you what they are, best you come over for cookies and milk. And don't forget to bring your good humor and a present to shake.
Aren't you glad to know me?
How do I crack myself up? Let me count the ways.
First, I clad myself in the most sought after Christmas gift of the season, a Prairie Ho Companion t-shirt, and then took pictures. Sassy pictures. Why? Because this is what I do to amuse myself. But in case you're not from Minneapolis and don't especially know what the big deal about being a 'Prairie Ho Companion' is, you can read a little refresher over here. Poor Rex can't sell these t-shirts anymore, but I'm thinking that *my* million dollar idea will be to finish this series of Warhol-esque t-shirt photographs and sell the prints at ridiculously high prices with my signature scribbled in silver ink in the corner. I'll be posting the follow-up to this picture tomorrow in which it looks like I'm blindfolded.
Second, I like to take pictures of myself when my friend's are running from the law. I'm good under pressure like that. I didn't especially realize I stuck out my pinky when I'm shooting, but to be fair that wasn't even my camera so I'm going to dismiss it as a one-off Canon tick.
Third, when a male friend of mine gets hot flashes after checking out a hot chick at the other end of the bar and is too chicken-shit to talk to her, I take my responsibility as a good-deed-doing friend very seriously and will often-times send him off with my camera to do a little recon work. I can only do so much people, the rest is up to you. Sadly this story didn't end with said friend actually talking to said hot chick, but it did end up with us getting hugely drunk on a Thursday evening and stumbling around the city taking photographs of flags and flowers with our lomos.
Fourth, I can't wait to tell my mom that my most favorite Christmas present (so far) this year was getting the DVD box set of The L Word. I'm gonna have my camera ready so I can be sure to capture that moment for all of eternity because, well, wouldn't you? It should one of the highlights of my year.
Small, dark, and a little bit of wonderful needs a good home
Anyone interested in buying a 35mm SLR camera for $150? We're talking a Canon Rebel G, two Tamron lenses (28-80mm and 100-300mm), one and a half filters, and heck I'll even throw in a small (and green) camera bag.
* Fabulous condition.
* All the manuals are included.
* Takes great photos.
This is the part where I should post a photo of the goods, but I just don't happen to have one of those on me at the mo'. You're just gonna have to trust me.
Naw. If you're serious about buying the camera I'm happy to send something over.
So this is where I say, you know, ACT NOW!
Merry Christmas!
True story. A few nights ago I ended up at the 331 Club for the length of one gin & tonic. Not only would I get to see a man in a grey t-shirt playing stand-up bass, but this would also be the setting for The Incident In Which I Was Introduced As My Website™ for the first time. Ever.
"Norwegianity.com, this is Sopheava.com."
Sadly, Norwegianity and I stood stood there like a couple of idiots going, "Ohhhhhhhhhh." Because of course his name (which I don't remember) meant nothing to me but the website, yeah. It all became crystal clear. God I feel like a strain of highly evolved ubergeek who speaks only in snobby internet code. \m/
So I wanted to share what I got up to yesterday (besides hat shopping) because I know I'm not the only ubergeek out there! I had heard about this thing called The Rasterbator some time ago and mostly thought about how it sounded like a giant pink vibrating jelly dildo in the shape of a rabbit... I mean, with a name like "The Rasterbator" you're just asking for trouble. Hello. But it's totally something that has no apparent affiliation with anything vibrating or shaped in the form of a rabbit. It's actually this really cool little online app that will take any image, blow it up for you, and then spit out the final result in a PDF document which you can print on your home printer. You then take the pages and stitch them together for a giant-sized version of your original photo.
Like you need to ask if I did it - of course I did (as if I could control myself). I decided to do a little test - excuse me while I totally geek out, um, again - and picked this image as my guinea pig. First I transformed the image in to a high-contrast black and white piece (cuz when you're printing at work, you don't want to be the dickhead who used up all the magenta). Then I rasterbated it, and whoala!
(I stuck my foot in the image so you could get any idea of the proportions....)
Now that I know how it works I'm going to print off a giant, larger than life picture of myself for everyone I know to hang on their living room walls. Go check it out. You won't be sorry!
And finally, it is with deep regret that I tell you I'm preparing myself to be *gulp* away from the internet for a couple of days. Oh *god* the pain! THE PAIN! I'm headed back to Wisconsin tomorrow morning to spend the weekend with the fam, and you probably don't know this but they don't really have that whole internet thing going on in Wisconsin. Ha, I had you for a second didn't I? OF COURSE they have the internet! Thanks to AOL everyone can dial-up with Version 9.0 'n everything. That geek thing, I'm doing it again aren't I? Well at least I know that *I* laughed at my own little joke. Anyway, I'll be back early next week in which we will discuss British TV Advertising and swap drunken relative stories.
Merry Christmas!
Can't talk now, I have more shopping to do
I know, it's been crickets around here. To be fair I'm on vacation this week and in my mind vacation means shopping, reading, traveling, evening's out, taking photographs, and generally doing a lot of things that don't involve my websites. Back to the shopping for a second, oh the shopping that was done today. Lovely, lovely shopping (Rachael would be so proud). I ended up at the camera store first, and it was probably an act of god that kept every single item I was there to see - all 6 of them - out of stock. *whew* Crisis averted. That just means I'm going to have to order all that sh--, uh, stuff online so I have it in time for my trip.
Mm hmm. We're going to continue like I didn't just say that out loud.
Anyway, I'm currently experiencing a pumpkin spice latte, camera store, book store, shopping, vacation overload which equates to muddled thinking and jumbled writing. Or at least muckier than usual. I can't really see how I can be expected to continue this blogging facade today when visions of 1.4 f-stops are dancing in my head.
Oh yes, the caffeine, it's working.
I'm off to enjoy this vacation thing with a nice umbrella'd drink... er, perhaps a glass of wine will do. As for tomorrow I'll see what I can do about stitching together something a little more coherent and entertaining in the key of G-rrrr.
(In the meantime, check out what's beeng going on in the house of Andrews this holiday season. It was like having Laguna Beach right there in my parents living room!)
Merry Christmas to me
+ one 70-300mm f/4-5.6 lens
+ one 50mm f/1.8D AF lens
+ one 67mm to 52mm adapter ring
+ one 67mm to 62mm adapter ring
+ one 67mm ghetto close-up filter set
Aaaaaaaaaand I'm spent. How in the world my parents, or anyone else in my life, didn't know to buy those presents for Christmas is beyond me. But I sincerely thank you from the bottom of my camera bag for the cash.
It is good.
This should officially cap the maximum recommended amount of geekery allowed in my diet for one day. I need to go lie down... all this f-stop goodness is making me a little light-headed.
Mmmm... camera stuff.
It's not you, it's me. No wait, it's you.
I'd like to make an end of year plea, in the name of all things cute, for all websites that link to even a single page off their own site to *pleeeease* for the love of cute baby animals everywhere generate that page in a new window.
Target equals blank.
See how quick and painless that was? I'm gonna see if I can get the W3C to validate that shiz cuz there's no way I'm the only one irritated by being forced off a site. No need to thank me now, you may shower me in gifts sometime in 2006. I like gifts.
Now that that's out of the way we can get to my second gripe of the day: I don't like being misled about a movie. Here's the thing, I'm one of those people that totally falls for a movie. If it's a sappy romantic comedy I'll probably cry at the end. If it's a cheesy horror movie I'll probably jump 5 feet in the air every 10 minutes, that is when I don't have my head buried in my boyfriend's sweater. So yeah, I'm one of those gullible movie-goers.
A few months ago, oh I don't know... roundabouts halloween, I was looking for a decent scary movie. Blair Witch Project? Yup, totally scared the bejeesies out of me. So did Rhe Ring and The Mothman Prophecies. I wanted one of those. Something I could watch between the just-barely-cracked-fingers in front of my eyes. Something that wouldn't even let me eat popcorn for fear of suffocating myself during a sharp intake of breath.
For anyone with a TV it probably won't come as a shocker to you that I was told The Saw was the movie I was searching for. You have to understand, I haven't had a TV in so long I can't even keep track anymore. I've never seen ads or previews for it, I've never seen a profile on E! Entertainment Weekly, and never heard about it on the radio. What I had to go on was the honest word of my sources who, unanimously, agreed it was suspenseful and most importantly chalk full of the SCARE! factor I required.
Um, yeah. The Saw? Not so much.
Last night - very late and in a very dark living room, mind you - I put in the movie and sat waiting to be scared. And I waited. And waited some more. Agreed, it was suspenseful and kept you wondering what was going on for at least some of the time. Scary? ALL OF YOU WHO RECOMMENDED IT SHOULD BE ASHAMED! Tch. I feel like I've had a bad-movie hangover as I've spent much of today in quiet disbelief, wondering if maybe it's me? Is it something I did? Have I mysteriously transformed in to a cynical movie-goer? Is it time to get a TV and plug back in to the hype? Is it my slow progress toward 30 that's running interference on my unblemished, young, naive scare-factor? Ugh. I'm disappointed.
This is the part where I publically open up the forum for you guys to recommend some good scary movies, cuz honestly, I'm afraid I've lost my lovin' feeling. Misplaced my movie mojo. And am looking to reignite the passion in my living room.