Toby Keith and the Dance of the Seven Veils.

I discovered what I am calling my "Judgment Wrinkle." So, in order to stave off progression, I've been trying very hard for the past month or so to stay away from my judgment expression. (Hopefully as a bonus I might make some more friends?) Some of my activities have proven difficult to keep my resolve, but I feel like, for the most part, I've been successful.

My Friday night was spent at a country bar out further than the airport. To say that I felt like a fish out of water would be cliche, but accurate. It wasn't the mullets under the cowboy hats. It wasn't the worked hands, boots, or tight Levi's. It was the combination of all of the above with a mechanical bull and alcohol, topped off with the loudest music I have ever heard (and I go to a lot of concerts).

We got there early to have a line dance lesson, and learned a fabulous little dance called the Tush Push. Unfortunately, knowing a single, easy line dance does not qualify one as being boy-scoutedly prepared for a night of country-flavored fun.

At one point, Shara and I were sitting watching a couple dance. She was wearing a silk mini dress, and he was wearing a wife beater and baggy pants. The man was very into his lady friend. Thankfully, the girl was too drunk to be embarrassed when, while dancing closely, her man made her bare assed to the rest of the bar. OOPS! She was ok, for she proceeded to take his handkerchief and do an awkward seduction dance. I would compare it to the dance of the seven veils, except that it was very unsexy. Her partner, however, seemed very pleased, which should be all that matters, except that we were present, so we now have a say. The best part about watching this couple was Shara noting that the woman had a very "Lucille 2" quality. Which was absolutely true.


But I have to say that the highlight of the evening took place while Toby Keith (that's right, country music sensation Toby Keith) was in the corner signing autographs. I was doing an horrible imitation of a two step with Ryan when all of a sudden I was whisked away by some 45 year old man with 60 grit sandpaper for skin and a huge, huge hat. He was obviously very good friends with Jack, Jim and Bud, and as I was trying to figure out how to get out of dancing with him, he started flirting with me.


"Is he your friend?"
"Yes."
"IS HE YOUR FRIEND?"
"Yes he's my friend."
"You're gorgeous."
"Um, thanks?"
"Are you scared?"
"no."
"ARE YOU SCARED?"
"still not scared."
"Why don't you smile?"

(scared does not accurately describe what was going through my mind, but apparently, my new attempt at not having a judgment expression is interpreted by middle aged drunk men as fear.)

He proceeded to shoot pick up lines at me, which I really had no idea how to respond to. Finally, he said, "Do you like Toby Keith?" Not wanting to be misconstrued as friendly or flirty, I told the truth, "No."
"Why not?"
"I'm not really that into country, and he's too outspokenly republican."

At this, sand-paper hands seemed to be affronted and, suffice it to say, the pick-up lines stopped. I could tell that it took all of his manners not to jilt me on the dance floor--almost as much effort as it took me to not raise my eyebrows.

**Shout out to Xtina for the pic. Because, Heaven knows, I wouldn't take Toby's picture.

Tim Gunn is living in my Closet.

I have a tendency to name inanimate objects. It started with my iPod and other computer accessories, Lucille 2 my iPod, Flicka my camera, Jack Handy the USB thing that connects my phone's memory card to my computer, etc. Then my ugly comfy sheepskin slippers I named after Craig T. Nelson, or my Craig T.'s.

I got a new sewing machine, an amazing new sewing machine that blows my old Singer out of the water. The new sewing machine is a Brother Limited Edition Project Runway sewing machine, with so many features that I can't even contain my joy. I named it Tim Gunn, and now have no option but to "make it work." I also like the pink part around the LCD screen!

My Favorite Part, episode 2

“What's with you, kid? You think the death of Sammy Davis left an opening in the Rat Pack?” – Mel Horowitz, Clueless

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
-T.S. Eliot, Love Song for J. Alfred Prufrock

There’s something in the way you laugh that makes me feel like a child. – Jason Mraz, After an Afternoon

“On the run from Johnny Law, it ain’t no trip to Cleveland.” – Dignan, Bottle Rocket

”Sometimes, I feel discriminated against, but it does not make me angry, it merely astonishes me. How can any deny themselves the pleasure of my company? It’s beyond me.” –Zora Neale Hurston, How it feels to be Colored me.

“This is the squalid, or moving, part of the story, and the scene changes. The people change, too. I’m still around, but from here on in, for reasons I’m not at liberty to disclose, I’ve disguised myself so cunningly that even the cleverest reader will fail to recognize me.” – J.D. Salinger, For Esme—With Love and Squalor

You want the sunrise to go back to bed, and I want to make you laugh. –Joshua Radin, Paperweight

“But in the love poetry of every age, the woman longs to be weighed down by the man’s body. The heaviest of burdens is therefore simultaneously an image of life’s most intense fulfillment The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become.” – Milan Kundera,
The Unbearable Lightness of Being

“Lloyd wears washable neckties.” – Dorothy Parker, Men I’m Not Married to

“Oh my. What have we here? A rainy night in the city has cleared the sidewalks of all but the most intrepid pedestrians, and those who didn’t brave the elements have no idea what they’re missing. Because there you are, gliding along on your bicycle, just a few feet ahead of me.
“You’re obviously not one of those tedious hard-core cycling enthusiasts—no skin-tight black spandex for you. No, just a simple white T-shirt (soaked through to the skin, clinging to the small of your back) and a long blond ponytail, whipping back and forth like the tail of a cartoon pony, as those long legs of yours pump the pedals and you raise your face to the sky, letting the raindrops freckle your cheeks with sweet diamonds of moisture.
“Dare I try to catch up to you? I’m on foot, carrying a bunch of shopping bags, but you’ve paused at a red light, and—what the heck? I don’t know what I’ll say to you, but even the clumsiest of introductions on these glistening nighttime streets will give us a romantic how-we-met anecdote that we’ll love telling for years to come.
“Caught you! Here I am!
“And there you are. I see now that you’re a dude. My mistake. It was the ponytail that threw me off.
(Duration of crush: thirty-three seconds.)” – Paul Simms, Four Short Crushes

“Stay away from him. He’s a boy!” – Gymnast Nun, Girls Just Want to Have Fun

“No, ‘The Love Guru’ is downright antifunny, an experience that makes you wonder if you will ever laugh again.” – A.O. Scott, NYT review.

“My first jujitsu class was three and a half months ago. Self-defense was something that I was extremely curious about, for obvious reasons, and Mom thought it would be good for me to have a physical activity besides tambourining.” – Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

“This is like ordering someone to find you attractive, and it doesn’t work. I’ve tried it.” – David Sedaris, Keeping Up

“When behind a young man on a bus, she finds herself staring at his neck. The urge to touch it is almost overwhelming! And then he scratches it, as if he knew.” –Zadie Smith, The Autograph Man

Voisins gênants.

I'm not one of those people who is super friendly with their neighbors. I'm not unfriendly, but, if you don't approach me, I probably won't go out of my way to talk to you either. I'm ok with the status quo, I know 5 out of my nine cul-de-sac neighbors--not too shabby. I think I would know more if the weather in the northwest were not so foul for 2/3 of a the year; neighbors seem to be fair-weather friends.

Tonight I was in my front yard painting some flower boxes and a picket fence when I overheard one of my neighbors say, "It's really good stuff that we got. I hope we don't get arrested." He said this to his wife as they were unloading their baby and toddler from their car. And this was after they were home, packed up the kids and the car and left, only to come back 30 minutes later. It's statements like that that make my mind reel.

My first thought, naturally, was drugs. "Kids, you remember Pepper Jack. He's going to hook Mommy and Daddy up with some crack rock. Thanks Pepper Jack! See you next week."

My next thought: terrorism. I'm not sure what they could be cooking up over there, but maybe I should call homeland security. Wait, shh shh, do you hear that? What's that weird sound? No, no, they just want you to think that's their air conditioner, but really it's some thing they said we would find in Iraq.


After several scenarios like this, I decided he probably has a sense of humor like me, and also like me, says things too loudly which could be misconstrued out of context. One of my windows overlooks their backyard, I'll keep my eye open. I wonder what's going on in that huge shed they built last summer. No, this is crazy, they are good, drug-free people. Maybe I should throw a neighborhood barbecue so that I can figure him out. Or maybe, I should go Tom Hanks in "The 'burbs" on them and figure out what is REALLY going on. I wonder if Corey Feldman is available...