I’ve been listening to a lot of different (for me) music lately—thanks to Pandora, which does tend to repeat itself after hours of playback—but after I’ve had enough of these guys I like to return to my own stuff in iTunes. Nothing like an ear vacation to make those same tired albums sound new again.

So anyway, yesterday, I noticed something about two of my most favorite messy-pretty songs:

“Stars” by The Clean

and

“Rising of the Sun” by The Rabble

The names of the bands and the titles of those songs are total opposites. Weird, huh. Also weird: The Clean are from New Zealand, as well as another band called The Rabble, but not this Rabble, who came from Canada in the ’60s.

I thought it was interesting! But then I’m pretty boring.

I know this will probably sound like one of those “you never needed it ’til they said you did” scam deals (Latisse, douching with Lysol), but ever since I started lotioning my armpits, I’ve been 200% more comfortable with myself! And I don’t mean stupid moisturizing deodorant; I mean regular body lotion. I’m less itchy, and shaving’s easier.

Does anybody else do this? It’s decadent.

Even though I don’t have an immediately obvious look-alike (other than my mom, according to anybody who sees us together for the first time (cashiers love us)), I’ve been compared to a lot of different ladies in my lifetime:

Winona Ryder
Laura Dern
Emily Deschanel
Penelope Cruz
Veronica Lake
Judy Collins
Princess Zelda

Pick your favorite!

I’d post photos, but I think we all know how different these six women and sprite are from each other. And while I can’t see myself in any of them, I’d say it’s Laura for the occasional horsiness, Emily for the monotonous vocal delivery, and Winona, Penelope, and the Princess for the brown eyes and impish features. Veronica Lake happened when I had a photo of her in my Facebook profile and people seemed to think I’d edited a photo of myself. As for a young Judy Collins, this is what my stepdad said yesterday. I may be a princess, but I’ll never be as ethereal as Judy.

Don’t be shy, tell me one of your resolutions for 2010! I’m especially hoping to hear from anybody reading this old ‘log who has never said hello. Surely there’s somebody? You can e-mail me in secret if you’d like; I love a secret letter.

One of my resolutions for the new year is to start a new web project. I hesitate to use the word launch because it’s not a space shuttle, but in truth I’ve actually already started this thing. I don’t really want to describe it yet since the premise is really simple (like describing a dream, ugh), but it WILL require me to update with a new drawing once a week. Can I do it???

I was given a gift of shower gel once that boasted itself as having “plenty of bubbles.” Seeing as there’s a whole dictionary of fanciful words reserved for such frilly goods, I find plenty to be a strange choice. How many bubbles are plenty? It’s such a vague, casually optimistic word. I prefer more concrete statements about my soaps, like… “It Floats.”

Don’t you trust it? (And then there’s Fairy Soap…)

Ivory soap images via Design History.

I’m not sure if it’s the “Pro-Epil Complex” or some malodorous side-effect of wild roses I don’t know about, but this Dove antiperspirant makes my armpits smell like a candied ham.

Also, I hate the lid.

Here’s what it’s like nearly every day with this guy:

Chris is doing the dishes after we’ve gone two days without doing them. “I’m not doing them all,” he says, and I say that’s okay, I’ll do some. A few minutes later, though, he’s still washing and the sink is nearly empty. “Stop it!” I exclaim, and he says, “I’m not doing them all.” I can tell he’s being cute, so I leave him to finish the dishes. He finishes, the sink is sparkling, and I tell him thank you. Then I go to make something to eat, and I see a single spoon in the sink. He sees me see the spoon and he says, “Told you.”

Orange (Not red.)
Red
Yellow
Green

… that vampires aren’t actually good boyfriends. Or all that sexy. Really.

… that black does go with brown—unless it’s like, an all-brown outfit and you’re pairing it with black boots, because then that’s crazy. Unless you’re a Bay Mare. Or you work for UPS?

… that raspberries are the best berry, but not the best smell for a bodywash.

… to stop with the tooth-bleaching.

… to not call someone and, if it’s early, ask, “Oh, were you sleeping?” Because, yes.

… to outlaw Internet Explorer.

Lots of people own dogs in our new neighborhood. Seeing them daily makes me want my own, but Chris and I are waiting for a better opportunity to own a pet. I’m having a hard enough time taking care of my plants as it is. The one I mentioned earlier, my beautiful Splitrock, has already halfway rotted—likely because of my desire to nourish it with water. Too much water.* What is WRONG with YOU, the Animal Control officer will say.

Anyway, there’s a young boy here who owns a sleek little Chihuahua. Both dog and boy are the same warm dark chocolate in color, and very slender. I’ve never seen the dog on its feet, because the boy keeps the creature slung over his back like a yoga mat. Paws on either side of the boy’s neck, feet propped on the boy’s waistband—the dog simply hangs on, a wayward stole. I’m not sure if it’s out of fright that the dog doesn’t jump down, or if it really is a comfortable position. It looks natural enough to me, like maybe the dog considers the boy his chariot. (With cats, aloof as they are, there is less to guess about what they like and dislike.) Paris Hilton totes her Chihuahuas similarly, but they’re much smaller, and the way she cuddles them under her chin is more akin to the way you’d hold an ice cream cone. While wearing an animal like an accessory is not something I’d advise (same goes for building your dog collection a mini-mansion), this neighborhood boy and his pet look so much like a hero and his sidekick that it seems okay for now.

As for me, I want a bigger dog who will run around on his own four legs and drink lots of water.

* I’ve always erred on the side of too little water with my other succulents, so this comes as a sad surprise. I’m not sure I can use what’s left to grow as a cutting.