And now, for something entirely different!


First of all, thanks everyone for all the nice words and comments. It’s really hard for me to express how I feel about my body and whatever, especially given my history and the current societal epoch in which we all find ourselves. And it is incredibly comforting to know that there are people out there with whom I can have this type of dialogue. Yay, you guys!!!

But now the the main portion of the show: HOW I AM AWESOME.

So I went to this geeky networking / content sharing / seminar event for Boston-area video editors tonight. I’ve gone to these events before, and usually I come out kind of the worse for wear. Either the material is over my head, or I’m way too tired, or, most often, I just feel really out of place. It’s like there’s some kind of insider’s club that I’m just not part of, and I don’t like it. But I’m an adult, and adults are supposed to do these things, and so I go.

But tonight? Tonight was different. Not ONLY was I able to grasp everything the presenter was talking about (new features in FCPX 10.6.6 if you’re wondering), I even KNEW some of his tricks BEFORE HE SHARED THEM. And everyone would be like, “ooh” and “aaah” and I ‘d be like, “yeah. I knew that.” I mean, just throw a 2.5″ SSD in the small USB 3.0 enclosure and carry it around with you! Who needs Thunderbolt if you’ve got a slow HDD?  And 16g of ram in the laptop? I installed that shit with a drink in one hand. To think, this from the girl who couldn’t type until she was 22.

Not. Too. Shabby.


How to make a good impression:


1) Wrangle a situation where you’re staying overnight with your boyfriend’s grandparents, whom you’ve met only once or twice before.

2) Drink what could plausibly be considered too much vodka at your boyfriend’s brother’s wedding reception.

3) Wake up from a dead sleep at 8:30am screaming profanity.

Seriously? I *never* talk in my sleep – much less scream at the top of my lungs – but sure enough there was B!’s hand over my mouth, and sure enough there was that memory of the dream, and sure enough there was his grandfather shouting from the next room over, probably thinking someone was having a heart attack. I’d been a teenager fighting with her mother, and we all know how THAT can get (don’t we?), so it wasn’t surprising that what I howled, with all the force and hatred I could muster, was: “MOM! WHAT THE **FUCK**??!!”

Yes. Out loud. Out very loud, at 8:30am, in my boyfriend’s grandparents’ ranch-level house. It was a sheepish E$ indeed who emerged from the bedroom moments later, wiping last night’s makeup out from underneath her eyes, and a very confused Grandpa who blinked back a smile at her stammered apology. Let’s just say it was an awkward silence.

Free Advice: if you don’t know, probably just don’t ask.


It’s no secret that I’ve gained some weight since B! moved out here. All told, there’s around a 35 pounds from lowest to highest. And, you know, I’m not in love with it, but it’s not like it’s wrecking all my time. I just ate a fro-yo cone with sprinkles. So, there.

But it’s gotten a little awkward lately. More specifically, people have started asking me if I’m pregnant. And I’m not talking like “that random stranger this one time”, I’m talking PEOPLE. Like, best friend people. Like, coworker people. People people. More than a handful. And it’s never just like, oh are you pregnant? It’s always like:

“Boy or girl?”

“When’s the due date?”

“I hope she has your hair!”

For any readers who may themselves have asked the burning question in question: it’s not the asking that bothers me. I’m well aware that I’m no longer the lithe sprite of yesteryear, but I’m also no longer smashing dishes or throwing glasses of wine at things. My eating disorder is in remission. I have a full set of dinner dishes. Weight gain is a small price to pay for sanity, I think, although it’s not always appropriate to say in the moment.

What bothers me is the whole awkwardness of the situation. Like, they say it, and then I have to say, you know, “no”, and then they get all flustered and I just laugh and smile because really – REALLY? It’s funny. Come on, you know it is.

That said, I’m still thinking of getting a couple T-shirts made that say “NOT PREGNANT, JUST FAT”. It’s summertime now. Anything goes.

(Not) Getting a Cab in Austin: Part 3


So when we left off, I’d just spoken with the owner of Yellow Cab Austin, and given him the sensible advice to not make promises he couldn’t keep. That night I had the opportunity, once again, to call upon Yellow Cab for transport – my flight back to Boston was at 9:40 the following morning. And lo! Behold! I was greeted with a recording giving a disclaimer about their dispatch service malfunction! I’d effected real change, it seemed!

Nevertheless, I made my reservation for 6am, and called Lone Star Cab as backup for a pickup at 7.

Me being me, I slept through my alarm. I woke at 7:30 to my phone ringing, with the taxi driver from Lone Star on the other end of the line. This is 7:30am, mind you, which is neither 6 nor 7. “Where are you?” he asked me, in a thickly accented voice. “I can’t find you on the GPS.”

“Um, maybe try a map,” I suggested, not unhelpfully. “I think it’s off Airport Boulevard, but I can’t be sure. I don’t live here.”

“OK, OK, OK,” he interrupted. “I be there soon.”

I got up, brushed my teeth, and set about packing. Half an hour later, as I was finishing off the last of the Diet Coke and smoking the day’s first cigarette, he called back.

“OK, so you are coming off I-35 from downtown, and which way do you turn off the exit?”

I mean, was I  UNCLEAR earlier about the ‘not living here’ thing? “I really don’t know,” I said, “I’ve never been to Austin before in my life. I think you turn right.”

“Right?” His tone was almost accusatory. “You sure it’s not left?”

“What? NO, I’m not sure! I DON’T LIVE HERE. But I think it’s right.” I stubbed out my Camel Light and huffed inside the house.

“OKOKOK, I call you back.”

I hadn’t yet had time to put the empty 2-liter in the trashcan when my phone rang again. But, instead of the cranky cabbie, it was a pleasant audio recording informing me that my cab was approaching. Yellow Cab Austin! My chariot had arrived – and only two and a half hours late!

Lone Star called back one more time, but I didn’t bother answering. It was my last cab ride in Austin. I wanted to enjoy every second.

(Not) Getting a Cab in Austin: Part 2


7am was foggy in Austin. I noticed when I poked my head out the door to look for the cab that, of course, wasn’t there. I waited the requisite 20 minutes and then put in my phone call.

“We’re very busy,” said the dispatcher. “And we don’t guarantee our arrival time.”

“That’s bullshit,” I replied. “I want to speak to your manager.”

“We don’t guarantee our arrival time,” said the manager. “Plus, it’s foggy outside.”

“My cab yesterday NEVER came! I mean, I just really want to know, is a cab coming, or not?”

“Wait 20 more minutes,” she advised. “Call us back then.”

I think not. I woke up my friend, who woke up her husband, who, kindly, drove me downtown.

Two hours later, I still hadn’t received a call from the cab company, which led me to believe there were still no available cabs. But lo! Across the street! During my cigarette-and-coffee break, I certainly did spy four empties waiting for a fare. And I got SO mad. Once more, I dialed the number for Yellow Cab Austin. After listening to three rounds of their hold message, I was in no mood to dally around with the dispatcher – I got put right to the top. And by “right to the top” I mean “to the owner’s voicemail”.

Voicemail? VOICEMAIL??!! You could have popped me with a pin, I was so puffed up. So I did the only think I could do – I threatened legal action. He called me right back, sure he did, and he was VERY apologetic. “This is entirely our fault,” he admitted, and went on to tell me how they’d had some kind of electrical surge in their system that totally fried their dispatch center.

I put on my best business voice. “Well sir, I appreciate your position and I certainly thank you for calling me back. But I would suggest to you that you simply be transparent with your customers, instead of promising them cabs that won’t ever arrive.”

I mean, I almost felt bad for the guy. One more post, and you’ll see what happens.

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