You know how in teen movies, the 9th grade girl always has some BFF who she calls when Brad the hot new surfer boy transfer student asks to borrow her pen in Algebra class so she can go "And then! And then! His HAND touched mine and he said my HAIR smelled good!" and her friend goes "Oh my god! He TOTALLY likes you! What else did he say? He's so CUTE! God you're SO LUCKYYYYYYY!!!!"

I've realized the last few days that I don't seem to have a friend like that. So consider this a vacancy announcement. In return, I can totally provide the same for you.

Today I finally got around to making a quickie vid of one of the songs I wrote for Bearapalooza. I dunno why the light seems to be changing color. It's either my shitty camera, or sweet baby jesus telling me he approves.

So I'm sick and feel like crap. But this totally would made me laugh my hoo-ha off. If I had one. It's Calpurnia Addams's "Bad Questions to Ask a Transsexual." Go watch!

White trash neighbors, how I do love thee. Despite the fact that 39876 people live in your house, and all of you scream every word you say to each other. This is how I knew that your sister, oh mom of the house, is the one who got your oldest son addicted to heroin. And that when she came to live with you, bringing the grand occupancy total to 39877, you kicked her out when she brought the smack past your front door. Yes, this is how I am prepared to not recoil in suburban-bred horror when you tell me this in person. Thanks to the last 6 years of living next door to you in a 1927 rowhouse that was acoustically designed for an era of comparably sedate and quiet living, I will probably never complain about the noise level of future neighbors since I have become accustomed to your all-night hootenannies.

And finally, because I get to overhear such gems as this exchange between your 7 year-old and her friend while they were in the back yard.

neighbor kid: "Drunk? You don't even know the meaning of the word drunk. Now MY dad, HE knows what drunk is."
her friend: "Well MY Dad is drunk AND hung over!"

Also, thanks for starting to pick the dog crap up out of your yard with more regularity.

I wrote this the other night, it's about that guy who I've been flirting with for months who always backs off at the last minute, only to return full-flirtation-force the next day or so. Also, for those of you who subscribed, I changed my youtube account and am now mrgwhillikers, please update accordingly as you desire. I'm not posting anything else under the old name.

Behold! My apple pie of yestermonth:



And a Halloween picture... I don't know for sure what's scarier... Mu's devil eyes or the creepy white pumpkin. I leave it to your vote.

Ate too many tater tots. There is a potato brick in my belly. Ow.

Before the unfortunate overeating, I finished building my cigar box uke. The strings are still stretching, and so the jury is out on my level of pleasedness. But hopefully I can use it in the show.

I now return to clutching my belly in distress.

Show details for anyone who needs them....

Oh, golly.

I'm turmoiled. I hate to let the words leave my head, lest I curse myself and regret it, but I'm kind of scared I will get the job at Legal Aid. I'm on the possible list in 2 departments. In one way, I want them because I am sick of feeling like some huge loser who hasn't had a financially stable job since April. Which would be ok if I weren't, y'know, a lawyer and everything. But part of my stomach, like, uh, the whole thing pretty much, kind of drops and thinks "Oh shit, I'll be stuck in Baltimore." I've tried thinking that I could commit to a year longer here, but the job I already interviewed for wants someone who will stay a LONG LONG TIME and I would hate myself for bailing after a year. I kind of feel sad thinking that I might get it, and my Grand Old Plan of selling my house and moving to Pittsburgh, where I can buy a whole house outright in a neighborhood I actually know and like, would go away. I dream of no-mortgage.

This week, I like this one, for $10k:


And this one, for $14k:


And they're live-inable, not requiring more work than I can do myself. Imagine it - absolutely no housing cost. I could work at a job based on my enjoyment, not on the financial security it offers. 

On the downside, my mom is not into it. She and I are agreed that when she's too old to manage alone, she is always welcome where I am. I even considered buying a duplex in the same area, so she could have her own apartment waiting when she is ready. But she won't consider moving to Pgh. She will, however, move to Bmore, which is a much bigger hellhole, if you ask me. I'm spending a lot of emotional energy trying to decide what I want, without basing it on her needs. But she's 69, and my brother is useless when it comes to doing anything for her or my mom. I don't want to make decisions based on her life instead of mine, and come to resent her for it. But I don't know if I can make them with a glad heart, I am in Bmore because I went to school here, since Rutgers, which offered me a kickass scholarship, was too far away. And I don't like this city, as a whole.

So generally, I'm frustrated. I am feeling kind of paralyzed around my life and all the house projects. Some friends of mine offered to come over en masse and paint things in exchange for pizza and beer. I don't know if I can handle the help, I hate feeling indebted. Which is stupid. I mean, they're my friends. Who are content to be paid in National Bohemian beer. Which is cheap.

In other news, I made a terribly precise to-do list yesterday, and my dog ate it. Seriously. And stood among the shreds when he was discovered as if to say "All you need to do is pet me! Me! Me!" So I did.

Yesterday some friends and I picked fruit. While I stayed within reason on the blueberries and blackberries, I went a little overboard on the peaches. 

Here is evidence of my over-fruitfulness:


I came home, and took the ones that has bruised or were soft, and made some unfathomably delicious peach butter. I found the recipe a little sugary, though, so I'm going to try another batch with more fruit, less sugar - they're white peaches, so the flavor is a tad more delicate. If it comes out really, really well and has good texture and everything, then I'm going to pop it in the state fair. Going up against ancient farmwives and their home ec secrets, I don't expect to win, but I've wanted to enter something in the food arts category since I was tiny.

All in all, I got 9 jars made.


And I had just enough to try it out myself. 


Yeah, it's good. I'm going to make one more batch, and then can the rest in slices, with fruit juice. And engage in elaborate fantasies about being able to make ginger peach pie in the wintertime.