Aug. 22: Another post

I’m running on two hours’ sleep (ten for the week so far), with a meeting at 10am and another at 7pm. It’s either gonna be a long day or I’m going to the 7pm meeting with some really bad pillowhead (but alert!).

Here’s some misc stuff:

• My dreams—few though they’ve been, given the number of hours I’ve slept this week—have recently been all about the Manullang Geisha House. I’m reading Memoirs of a Geisha and it has completely invaded my unconscious and I’m not OK with this. I mean, I have nothing against geisha, but for the last four mornings I’ve awakened angry at Victor for starting this little family biz. Why would he do that? We don’t have enough going on already???
• Today is Mike Devitt’s birthday, according to Facebook. Happy birthday, Mike! Here’s a balloon.

• I’m kinda pissed because yesterday there was a shooting at the Clackamas Fred Meyer and my friend Stephanie was in there with her family at the time. She was neither the shooter nor the victim; in fact, her family got out unharmed, but STILL. Scariest thing EVER. People are assholes. Not Stephanie. I love Stephanie. And I’m glad she’s alive. Grocery shopping shouldn’t be this dangerous.
• Grimm is back! I think it might annoy me this season. Cliffhangers at the end of every episode? I usually hate shows like that. Also, for you locals—what hospital was that in Monday’s episode? My guess was Good Sam; Vic’s was something else but he was wrong.
• Have I told you lately how much I love football? I haven’t? Hm.
• Chuckles:

 

 

Let’s all take naps today. Seriously. We’re gonna need ‘em. Especially Mike, who is super-old now.

Jan. 7: IDCEAYWTPFriday

It’s Friday, and that means you get a post called I Don’t Care Enough About You to Write in Transitioning Paragraphs Friday. This is a short edition because I’m super-duper tired.

• I’m glad the week is over. We’ve got a few things going on this weekend, but nothing that’s going to make me crazy (I hope). This was a hectic and stressful week at work and school, and I hope to sleep in tomorrow and enjoy some slow-moving weekend activities. Maybe I’ll even find a L&O marathon to watch. Or quiet time to read a book or nap. That would be bliss.
• I love the story about the homeless man with “the gift of voice” and all the offers he’s getting for jobs and a home and all sorts of stuff. It’s just one of those things that makes you smile.
• Did you read my post the other day about the resolutions? The guy who wrote them (writer/performer Andy Ross) commented on my post. Don’t tell, but now I kinda have a crush on him, because, y’know, I loves me the funny.
• The next big PTO event is February 5, and it’s our big one for the year: WinterFest. It’s a carnival type of event, and always sooo much fun. WinterFest requires much planning and organization, and I hope the next month doesn’t make me crazy-kooky-silly with the busy-ness of it all.  Today we met with T-shirt printers, and I got just a glimpse of the insanity yet to come. I shall do my best to stay on track.
• Today I had, like, the best lunch date EVER. Kim F’n invited me to join her, Cindi, Sunshine and Val. It was two fantastic hours of fun and laughs and rants and threats and promises and if you don’t know these girls, you don’t know what you’re missing out on. They are all-around fabulous. No doubt about it.

• It’s late and I’ve been on the go all day and I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed now.

Dec. 27: In the news

I’ve been walking down a very dim Memory Lane the past couple days, wishing I could remember more about a friend of mine from high school, and also wondering about the changes in his life since 1986.

I won’t use his full name here because I don’t want my blog popping up as a search result for him. Out of 60-some graduates in the PAA Class of ‘86, there were several Mikes. This guy was one of them. (I’m not referring to Mike Devitt, of whom I’ve not really lost touch over the years. Mike Devitt was at least one Mike that turned out alright, depending on your definition of “alright.” Heh heh heh…)

The classmate I’ve been thinking of is Mike B. He was very friendly and flirty, and liked to pretend he was a much badder boy than he probably was. And you know what good girls often think of bad boys... Mike B was never the type I wanted to date, but he was definitely a fun person to be around. When he flirted—especially with me, because I embarrassed easily—he would almost always take it too far, just to get a reaction. It always worked.

A bunch of us girls were like that with him—we enjoyed the attention but that was about enough. Boys who wore Ozzy Osbourne shirts under their sweaters got in trouble way too much. This was not a boy our parents would have been pleased to see pick us up for a date.

I have one memory of Mike B that stands out more than any other. It was a Friday night, and my dad was out of town so I took the opportunity to throw a party. (Now who’s the bad kid???) My girlfriends and I invited an odd assortment of classmates—or maybe we invited everyone and it was just a handful of them who actually showed—and Mike B and another guy showed up drunk. I didn’t want them mixing with the good kids, so I sent them down the hall and can’t remember what I did next… did I actually try to get a party going? Was I that much of a Martha Stewart back then, that I wouldn’t let two juvenile delinquents ruin my otherwise perfectly good party? Gah.

Knowing me, I was playing Amy Grant cassettes and starting up a game of Ellen G. White Trivia for the good kids in the living room while the bad boys at the end of the hall got drunker. Gotta keep all the guests happy! At one point I remember dragging a couple girlfriends back there to check on them with me, and they got loud so we went into my bedroom. My door ended up closed, and the lights ended up off, and suddenly there were lots of hands in lots of places. The lights quickly went back on and the door re-opened.

We were never scared of Mike B and his friend. Maybe we should’ve been, but Mike B’s drunk self was a sillier version of his regular self, and I’m quite sure we weren’t in a potentially dangerous situation. But my clearest memory of this moment was that Mike B then really, truly kissed me, several times. And y’know what? It was gooood. Because I wasn’t in love with him, I felt guilty to think it was so nice to be kissed by him, but I hadn’t been kissed all that much in my life yet so I went with it. Then the hands started again, and I called it to a stop—honestly, more out of fear than a lack of curiosity.

I ushered our little crowd back into the living room, where the drunk ones declared my party an absolute bore and left. I don’t remember the others hanging around much longer either. My girlfriends spent the night and there was much giggling and review of the night’s activities.

At school Monday morning, nothing was said, nor were uncomfortable looks exchanged. I’m guessing it’s because Mike B didn’t remember anything, so the rest of us pretended not to either. But for being a guy I never exactly crushed on, I can remember kissing him almost like it was yesterday instead of nearly 25 years ago.

Why the sudden walk down Memory Lane? Because I’ve seen a current picture of Mike B on the news many, many times over the last 48 hours. He was arrested yesterday morning when he surrendered himself after shooting and killing his mother at home on Christmas Day. News reports say there was a history of mental problems and that he had not been taking medications he needed. Here are local news pieces from KGW, KOIN, and The Oregonian.

Our very small graduating class has suffered some tragic deaths since high school, and at least two former classmates are now (or soon will be) serving murder sentences in prison. “Sad” doesn’t begin to cover it.

Sep. 3: Green babies rule

Exciting news for Rent and Wicked fans: Idina Menzel and Taye Diggs became parents yesterday. Their son was named Walker Nathaniel Diggs and is sure to be gorgeous if he’s anything like his mom OR dad.

I have no photos of the new baby—Taye hasn’t e-mailed them to me yet, like he has more important things to do and I suppose it’s possible he may not know my e-mail address or that I exist. So here’s the next best thing; one of the few scenes in the Rent movie in which Idina/Maureen and Taye/Benny appear together when he’s not being an ass and she’s not trying to steal the spotlight—also one of the most beautiful songs from the film and HELLO! sing it, Jesse L. Martin!:

 

What? You say you want more? Alright, here’s another one of my favorites from the movie, which my sister calls “The Lumberjack Song.”

 

Alright, I’m going nuts with the videos. Ignore them if you want to. This is the song that always brings me to goosebumpy tears—the final song in the first act, “Defying Gravity.” (Yes, this is bootleg Broadway in all its finest.)

 

Here’s one of the most emotional performances of “For Good” from Wicked that I’ve seen. The first part of the video is an interview; other than a little bit o’ Taye Diggs talk it’s kinda boring. The song starts at 3:21.

Aug. 26: Kennedy’s um… legacy?

America’s royal family has lost another; Senator Edward Kennedy died last night. I’m supposed to be sad about this, aren’t I? I’m supposed to reflect on all the good things Kennedy did throughout his life, how he survived longer than his brothers, did so many good things for our country, and eventually became the patriarch of the Kennedy family? I just can’t do it.

I feel bad for his grieving family—his children, his wife, his many nieces and nephews—but I’ll admit that I don’t feel a great sense of loss or sadness over his passing. While the Kennedys may be our royalty, I’ve never been all that fond of their behavior, especially when some of them have acted with a sense of entitlement in situations where most people would admit they’ve done something wrong. I think of the William Kennedy Smith rape trial, Ted’s behavior (silence, actually) during the Clarence Thomas hearings, and of course, Chappaquiddick.

I was an adult before I understood the circumstances around Chappaquiddick. Until then it had been more of a punch line than anything else. I was an infant when the accident occurred, but I remember it being mentioned frequently as I grew up, usually when comedians were poking fun at the Kennedy family. I’m not sure how that was funny, but given the circus surrounding the O.J. Simpson trial, I guess just about anything’s game for satire.

What I find shocking is how Kennedy recovered from the circumstances surrounding Chappaquiddick to continue winning elections and garnering respect from his constituents and peers. It’s hard not to see him as the pantsless, partying guy he was portrayed as on Saturday Night Live in the 90’s. Fair? Probably not. But accurate? It sure sounds like they were close to the truth.

The Kennedy family released this statement this morning:

“Edward M. Kennedy — the husband, father, grandfather, brother and uncle we loved so deeply — died late Tuesday night at home in Hyannis Port.

“We’ve lost the irreplaceable center of our family and joyous light in our lives, but the inspiration of his faith, optimism, and perseverance will live on in our hearts forever.

“We thank everyone who gave him care and support over this last year, and everyone who stood with him for so many years in his tireless march for progress toward justice, fairness and opportunity for all.

“He loved this country and devoted his life to serving it.

“He always believed that our best days were still ahead, but it’s hard to imagine any of them without him.”

Their statement is (wisely) almost controversy-free. There’s no denying he was loved by his family. His work as a senator is admirable, and I believe he cared about making our country a better place. But it’s hard for me to separate that from the scandals of his younger days.

Jun. 27: Not *this* victim

Not to make light of this news item, but I feel I should clarify that the unidentified stabbing victim in the story was not Jennifer Manullang. Remember, I don’t need anyone’s help getting stabbed.

But even more importantly, isn’t this scary? That stuff like this happens in the ‘burbs? Specifically, my ‘burbs?

Stabbing victim found wandering Clackamas parking lot, bleeding

At-large suspect may be 'armed and dangerous'

04:43 PM PDT on Saturday, June 27, 2009

By BILL GALLAGHER, Kgw.com Staff

CLACKAMAS, Ore. -- A late-night stabbing in Clackamas left one man in critical condition with multiple wounds, a suspect on the loose and a blood-smeared parking lot in the shadow of Interstate 205, according to sheriff’s deputies.

Clackamas County Sheriff's deputies got the call about 11 last night from 8868 SE Jannsen Road. They discovered a 35-year old man who'd been stabbed. 

The man had been wandering around the parking area, bleeding profusely, said Detective Jim Strovinck, a spokesperson for Clackamas Sheriff’s Office.

Ambulance crews stabilized the stabbing victim and transported him to OHSU in Portland.

He was conscious and breathing but listed in critical condition Saturday afternoon, Strovinck said.

A suspect in the stabbing was identified as Casey James Hatch, 30.

Hatch was wanted on first-degree assault charges and should be considered armed and dangerous, sheriff’s deputies said.

The stabbing victim was not immediately identified.

May 26: Shame on California

California residents, I’m embarrassed for you. What is wrong with your Supreme Court?

Today’s decision to uphold Proposition 8 is disappointing, though not surprising. What I don’t get is that they’re letting some same-sex marriages stand. I read a good interpretation of that bit on Twitter today: “the early gay gets the bouquet.”

Here’s an interesting response to today’s ruling, an article titled The Big Gay Shrug.

Someday. Someday our kids will wonder what the big deal was.

May 13: Keith O speaks wise

He sorta rips her a new one, but I can’t say I disagree with anything he says here…

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

May 6: It’s all about Lori

Stuff Jen Says is quickly turning into All Lori, All The Time. If you think it’s an improvement you’re welcome to go right ahead and keep that thought to yourself because why you gotta be so mean?

Today’s Statesman Journal has an article about local boy done good Deen Castronovo. If you’ve been paying attention, you know Deen is The Loveliest Lori’s brother-in-law** and the guy my drummer nephew likes to call “Uncle” Deen because apparently he’s way cooler than Uncle Vic. The article tells about Deen’s work with the Boys & Girls Club of the Salem area.

Drummer aims to spark musical journey for kids

It must be nice to have a celebrity for which a city can be proud; sadly, people remember Tonya Harding’s Portland connection much more readily than Matt Groening’s.

Lovely Lori H—the Lori formerly known as Lori (other)—do you have any celebrity relatives we can claim as our own? I think anything within a few degrees is worth a mention.  :)

**Photo of Deen and Lori lifted from Lori’s Thanksgiving ‘08 Facebook photo album because I think it’s super cute. Click it and you’ll surely agree.

Apr. 1: Three little words

A few weeks ago I heard a teaser just before a news break that went something like this:

If you’re worried about foreclosure, stay tuned. We’ll tell you the three words that could save your home.

I’m not worried about foreclosure myself but my curiosity was piqued, so I did as they told me and stayed tuned. I did not change that dial.

Here’s what they said: in the process of small banks being bought up by larger banks, and loans being sold and re-sold and sold again, paperwork is not always readily available to prove a bank owns your mortgage. In the economy’s current state of suckitude, people facing possible foreclosure can supposedly stall it by telling the bank to “produce the note.” (Here’s a more recent article about this.)

In our regular nightly review and analysis of the day’s news (cough cough), I mentioned this to Victor. Here’s how the conversation went:

Jen: So, I heard on the news that people can get out of paying their mortgage with three simple words.

Victor: I know, I know! They’re “I. Am. Gay.”

Why do I even try to talk to him?

Besides, everybody knows gay people don’t need mortgages. They get their homes for a song. Literally.