But Call Me Betsy

I mean that in the nicest way. I hate being so busy that I don't have time to write a little something--it usually takes me about 15-20 minutes to write a post, so not a substantial amount of time, but lately, it's just not feasible. I have photos to add but forgot my camera at home. ADDENDUM: It's really Monday now and I'm adding the photos for you. A quick weekly update: Sunday: Helped Lisa Marie film her latest project--well, really just showed up with the boy she needed to play the date. He was perfect for the part and maintained an even temperament throughout. I did something with the lights and wrote down the different shots. She has asked me to be in her next film, but I would like to lose just about 20 pounds before that time. Monday: Went with C & P to see, The Boy in the Striped Pajamas , a movie based on a book written by Padhraig's friend, John Boyne . The film was showing as free premiere in Bryn Mawr. We arrived late in part b/c of me and also b/c

I don't know why that phrase occurred to me, but it cracks me up. It reminds me of my friend Jen and how she said tights used to make her "feel itchy down there." Have not had the greatest week for some reason...Feel funky and low energy and so maybe it is all an infection. And yet somehow, I manage to persist and take photographs. Lots of "Go Phillies" fever around here as you can imagine. Here's that combined with a little Halloween spirit as well. I like this window because it contains a hodge-podge of Halloween references and just general scary stuff too, such as the Chuckie doll alongside these sort of adorable stuffed vampires. Sorry, this is blurry but I still think it's cute. A little sexy mummy lady whose empty insides light up. Didn't capture any Virgin Mary shots this week, but here's some religious figure. Is it David slaying Goliath? Please note that he's stepping on somebody's head, not sure who. This is only half of the

Somehow, I have managed twice to lock myself inside of my bedroom this past week. It occurs when the cats are running racetrack circles around my bed, using my stomach as a springboard to vault to the bureau, and/or licking my eyelid just as I'm about to fall asleep (it's really only Ernesto who does this). I get irritated and kick the animals out, and forcefully shut the door. This weekend, I shut the door to keep them away and discovered in the middle of the night when so and so got up to use the bathroom that the door wouldn't open. I tried to help, because it has been problematic before, but usually, I can get it to open. Not this time. So the door bolts had to be knocked out by force and the door wrenched from it's hinges as though in a rescue operation. Last night, there was more misbehavior among the animals, and anyway, I thought the door locking was possibly a fluke and so shut the door again and dove back into bed. This morning, I turned the knob to find that

Confession: the other night, I watched some of Paris Hilton's latest unreality show, My New BFF . In case you happen to be a thinking person who spends her time in more valuable pursuits such as watching PBS or the History Channel or reading a book without pictures or, I don't know, peeling off your toenail polish and are unaware of the premise, this show features a bunch of vapid guys and gals, all vying to be Paris Hilton's best friend. To do this, they have to jump through multiple random hoops, such as attempting to look hot while being photographed on a roller coaster. Or you might be sent to Japan with Paris to give an award on MTV's Japanese music video awards. Or you might be told to engage in a pillow fight. Mostly, all you have to do is kiss Paris' skinny white ass while still looking cute (though not cuter than her). I suppose the show is also meant to illustrate just how difficult Paris celebrity lifestyle is--omigod, at any moment, she might be asked to

We don't have worry about it dying out any time soon, as you can see by this up-coming election, which has assisted in highlighting how ignorant and backwards and backwater lots and lots of America remains. I've even heard intelligent people say things like, "You're just voting for Obama because he's black." And a random lady in the street telling no one in particular, "Yeah, he's going to win because he's black." Right, right. Because of all the black presidents and vice presidents we've had throughout the years and all of the black senators and congress people and mayors and CEOs that are over-flowing our system. And why aren't more people calling McCain on his totally racist response to Colin Powell's endorsement of Obama? When asked if how he felt about this long-time Republican, and former member of the Bush cabinet endorsing Obama, McCain said, "I'm not surprised." WHY was he not surprised? He should've be

Picked this illustration because it was the third thing that came up when I googled "awkward" in an image search. Because awkward was how I felt for most of today. Okay, so just got back from the "Push to Publish" event with Philadelphia Stories , a day-long writing retreat. I was supposed to pretend that I was the expert. This means that I was one of the editors in the "Speed Dating with the Editors" portion of the day and on two other panels, "Is the Short Story Collection Dead?" and "Writing for Blogs." I was more nervous about the first one because it seemed like we should all just show up and vote "yes" or "no." But it went pretty well, even though I felt like a total phony--giving advice about submitting your work when I haven't sent out a short story in, oh, I don't know, two years? Strangely, the first panel went better than the second one--I was more confident about talking about blogging but there

Still at work, but leaving shortly. Here's a link to Fourty-Four President's. The end.

I love, love, love walking down my streets in the morning now. You can actually step on leaves and they'll crunch and you'll think, Autumn! And, of course, I love the windows--they will only get better from here on out because we have a series of highly-decoratable holidays on their way. The two photos below are matching windows of the same house. I couldn't fit the two of them in one picture, but please see Mister.... and Mrs. Frankenstein. Very friendly and happy looking as dead people go. And the next series is this cat who was lounging in this great window full of statues and flowers. Here, he stretches. This is not a mean face, though it looks that way. I happened to catch him in mid-yawn. The two photos are actually switched in order here. He yawned (below) and then stretched (above). I liked this house front because even though it was 7:45 a.m., the light was on for the paper lantern. Detail here. A witch. And this last one is for Manny. I asked him yesterday wh

Did any of you bitches watch the debate last night? I couldn't actually "watch it" watch it, because I can't stand to see John McCain grimace and stammer for two straight hours. I listened to the debate though, facing my computer instead of the TV screen. Thank you, Obama, for not taking the bait when asked about the qualifications of the VP, because it would've been easy to look like a dick. When McCain was asked if he thinks she's qualified and why, he said, "Hey, listen, listen, look--that filly, she's a--Now, I picked her because she has a retarded baby. Now, if a woman who has a baby with Down's can't co-run the country, then I don't know who can. And yes, I will support and not support stem cell research to cure retardation because her baby should not have been born that way. But the fact is, it was, even though he don't know it, and therefore, we can't sit around here and support the kind of terrorism associated with my runn

So, of course, the week before I'm supposed to be on a panel about blogging, I am negligent. I don't know what's wrong with me on weekends--I had an extra day off this week because of Christopher Columbus' raid on America, and still didn't write an entry. I have been working on stuff for my screenwriting class and trying to get a story written, but still. To make up for it, here are a bunch of pictures for you: Here are some black Halloween kittens dressed in pumpkin costumes. Which reminds me, I want to go as a mean tooth fairy for Halloween. I will wear a blood splattered fairy costume and carry pliers. Ideally, I'd like to have a bucket of plastic teeth too, but I'm having trouble coming up with ways to make fake teeth: Night-time pumpkins stacked in a basement window: Jack-o-lantern, art, lit haunted house: At first, I thought this was a pro-McCain sign, until I saw that they had an Obama poster on their other window and then I went back and reread it

I have momentarily mislaid my camera and so I regret to inform you that there will not be 10 pictures of random cats in windows as you're accustomed to. I'm praying with my entire heathen heart that I haven't lost the camera and that it's somewhere in my home, possibly wedged between the sofa cushions. I am happy to report that it's now officially tights season which means that you will not see this bitch without tights on for at least 6 more months. I love tights. They make me feel like I might still one day be a ballerina. Here's my latest piece for Maven, called " As Good As it Gets??" This is not my original title. I called it "You Make Me Want to Be a Lamer Woman," which I think is funnier, but they did keep my bit about the poop (you'll have to read it to see what I mean), so I can't complain. I think my next piece will be about how the concept of "friends with benefits" truly sucks, mostly because the benefits aren&#

I constantly evaluate other people's outfits while I'm waiting for the subway or on the subway. Saw a girl today wearing ripped up white tights under cut-off denim shorts with cowboy boots and internally tsk-ed at her. Then I realized while I was sitting in the brighter lights of the Market Street subway car that I was in fact wearing a gray skirt and not a brown skirt as I thought in the dim lights of my bedroom. Whoops! Luckily, I was wearing a tank top (I am almost always wearing a tank top) and had a black cardigan in my office so I was able to pull my colors together, but just barely. The other thing I think about on my subway ride is if the people in my car can hear the music from my i-pod. I wonder this especially if I'm listening to something corny (the theme from Oklahoma ) or something wildly inappropriate (Liz Phair's "Hot White Cum"). No one ever seems shocked or offended, so I guess it's contained. Screenwriting class tonight. Our final assign

Went to the 10th Street Laundromat this weekend. I am ambivalent about doing laundry at the laundromat. On the one hand, it's stressful because you never know if there will be enough w/d available. On the other hand, it provides a great feeling of accomplishment. Look, a drawer full of clean underwear! Yeah!! However, I don't think I'll go to 10th St. anymore. For one thing, it's full of narrow cramped corridors and it's always jammed. For another, the washing machines resist swallowing quarters, so you have to stand there feeding and re-feeding them into the slot over and over again, hoping one will catch. I seriously stood at each machine for maybe 5 minutes each coaxing the quarters to go in. I felt like an idiot, and there were lots of people around watching me struggle with this. A Mexican dude came up to me and said, You need some help? I said, No, just--leave me alone, please. He walked away and I felt kind of like a jerk, but also, what was he going to do? K

I am tired of people saying how a positive part of Sarah Palincomparison's appeal is that she's "folksy." You know who else is "folksy?" Rednecks. Those backwater inbreds who rape the other dudes in Deliverance were "folksy." Klan members are "folksy." "Folksy" is not a compliment. I don't understand why people aren't being even harder on her after these debates. Just because she didn't burst into tears or say "no comment" does not mean she did a good job. It reminds me of that David Cross skit where he's amazed everyone treats Bush with such support after 9/11. "Hey, buddy, good job!" As if the person has come in second place in the Special Olympics.VP candidates should be better than this. Any beauty contestant or five year old can talk nonstop without saying anything of substance and we don't congratulate them on their ability to spout nonsense and/or talking points on cue. She's u