So from here-on-out, I won't be posting to this blog any more, all further posts can be found at

outrageouschaos.blogspot.com

Come on over, the water's fine.

OK, I'll admit it. As a geek, I am embarrassed by the fact that my blog is on LiveJournal. I know, there are a lot of contradictory statements in that sentence. Embarrassed by a blog, for instance. I have been housing my deepest secrets on the interwebs on LiveJournal for nigh on 5 years or so now (in various places, hidden to protect the innocent) and I'm embarrassed by a BLOG platform? It's true. I'm that geeky.

"But Brooke," You say incredulously, "You can't be a geek! Your rack is fantastic, you have a sparking charm and you ooze style like you lanced a style-boil." Yes, it's true. However, I also taught myself how to code BASIC when I was 13. For fun. And LiveJournal simply doesn't allow me the freedom to tinker with HTML directly as I wish. I am a fickle little imp, and I want to redesign on a whim. A WHIM! Additionally, I hate the anonymous comment posting on LiveJournal, and

So, by the time April rolls around, I will be posting solely to Blogger. Mostly because I want to hand my ENTIRE life over to Google and let it lead me. Also, they let you mess with the HTML directly, which I enjoy. I'm working out kinks in the design this week, and will cross-post to both locations. Next week, I'll stop posting here, but post a reminder here to check out the Blogger site whenever I post to it, in case you have RSS feeds on. (Shut up, I know at least one person does...) And then the week after that, I'll be going solo on Blogger.

So. Update your bookmarks, change your blogrolls, hide your husbands and sons, (ps: that phrase loses so much in the gender translation, why is that?) because there's a new Blog in town.  (Except that it's the same blog, looks pretty much the same, same author, same topics...ok, it's not that different. At all...)

OutrageousChaos (the Blogger edition!)

Here is what I do not want for lunch today:

1. A Sandwich. I had a PB & Banana sandwich (hippy PB and whole grain bread...) for breakfast, so nothing I eat for lunch can be contained between two pieces of starch. It's a rule I just made up.
   
2. Soup. I love soup. But if I have it for lunch, I'm starving by 3 PM, and end up eating an entire bag of popcorn.
3. My weekly nachos. See, you don't work with me, so you don't know. I'm something of a celebrity at my office for getting a giant platter of nachos once a week, and eating it over the course of two days. I have a system which involves getting a bag of "back up nachos," just the chips, from the Mexican restaurant, extra hot sauce packets, and an extra little thing of salsa. On Day Two of the nachos, I heat them in the microwave. I know what you're thinking: "that would make them soggy!" Ah, yes, and that's where BACK UP nachos come in. They're more of a structural component then anything else.  Seriously. The building thinks I'm nuts, and probably wonder why I'm not super fat. It's a matter of time before this metabolism packs its bags and heads to Guadalajara to hang with the REAL Mexican food...
   
4. It's 17 degrees outside. That ALMOST is warm enough to justify walking downtown for real food, but not quite. Also, taking off my shoes and putting on my boots is a commitment to a meal. I'm not sure I'm ready to take that next step into lunchedom. I'm lazy. And commitment-phobic. And only mildly hungry.
   
5. Handy's is around the corner. But I ate there yesterday.
   
6. And then the wildcard...EXTRA FOOD FROM MEETINGS. They've been having a ton of meetings here this week, the new Boston office is up visiting, so that means free scavenged sandwiches in the kitchen whenever their meal is done. But:
1. I am a vegetarian, and the likelyhood of getting a non-meat item is slim
2. They're likely having sandwiches. See item #1.
   
3. But they're free! Argh. Free food is infinitely more exciting.
   
7. I guess nachos. I'm not in a nacho-mood, but when one is devoid of options, one must take the most logical of one's paths.
   

Thank you, blog, for helping me process this most important of decisions.

• Programming Language Inventor or Serial Killer? I only got 5 out of 10. And Berkowitz was a GIMMIE.
  
• What Would Uncle Jesse Do? What, indeed?

My dad offered to drive me to the eye doctor's. Where do you go when you need glasses in a hurry? Lenscrafters. Where is Lenscrafters? The mall. Who do you bring with you when you need input on glasses? Your friend Alison. So, to recap, my dad is driving Alison and I to the MALL tomorrow night so I can buy eye glasses. Then we're going out to dinner. It's so junior high, it makes me want to sit in the backseat and giggle and kick my dad's seat and refer to him as "ddddaaaaaaaaad."

It's also super sweet of him. Plus, I'll be able to see! Yeah!

New York in three days! Woohooooo!

I'm a pretty light sleeper, so I have a fan next to my bed that I
turn on while half asleep. This morning: stompstomp. I turn on the fan,
but no white noise. Nothing. I follow the cord. It's plugged in. I turn
the power strip on and off. Nothing. I look at the clock that's plugged
into the powerstrip. Nothing. The powerstrip is plugged in behind my
bed, and I think "Well, I moved my mattress when I put new sheets on, I
must have bumped the outlet. I get out of bed, pull the mattress away,
but both the powerstrip and the overhead light are plugged in. I try
the light. Nothing. Sensing I might have solved the mystery, I go to
the bathroom, flick the light twice. Nothing.


The power was just out. I worry momentarily that my roommate didn't open
the electric bill in time or whatever, and decide to just go back to
sleep. And I have horrible dreams about no power, and post-modern
utopian exhistances. When I woke up at 9, the power was on, and all was normal with the world.

And now it's 10 and I'm WIDE awake. No glasses, because no ride. I hate it when you get super excited about something, and then super disappointed, and it feels like the air went out of your balloon.

On a positive note, more New York plans! I just discovered Takka Takka and the Lovely Feathers are playing the Merc Lounge next Saturday, Loyal wants to see Marissa Nadler at Sin-e (which is closing, did you know that?) so we might show-hop. I really wanna see Takka Takka. I'm sort of super excited about New York.

I like having a job where I can wear jeans and am regularly given beers at work. As much as I post "I'm bored" posts, it's just because the rest of the time, I am so balls-to-the-walls busy that when it's slowish, like this week has been, I feel antsy, and restless. Like there's something I've forgotten to do.

Like my timesheet, which I'm leaving until Monday. Off for a date with my gusband, to drink cocktails and be snarky.

The BritBritBitBit continues. There's negotiations with an official judge, who I will announce with GREAT FAN FARE should he chose to take the job. (hinthint)

Veronica Mars is cancelled. Probably because the last season has sucked from a plot-standpoint. Also, I found the whole rape plot was downright offensive. But dammit, I'll miss the witty banter, pop culture references, and spunky little Veronica. (although once they castrated Logan and made him into Duncan 2: return of Veronica's boring boyfriend, I lost all hope...)

I'm pretty happy right now, and maybe that's the two beers from the staff meeting talking, but it's none-the-less true.

I love weeknights where I can successfully double book. Dinner with Brendan: lovely. Even though he did laugh  very, very hard when I said I was a "class act."
"You...class...act...three in three! Three in three!" And then he stared at me, and nodded his head sideways to the two year-old sitting at the next table. "I can't say anything more about this." And then he laughed a lot more.

It's OK, though, I laughed at him a lot when he said he was a young Al Swerengen. It's good to have those friends who have known you for many years, through good stuff and not good stuff, to ground you.

Then off to the Sea Monster's pot luck, where I gained my very first Sea Monster name (Elongate Recast...not a very good one) and we played some very tricky games and had much laughter. And some friggen awesome cheesy grits. yesyes.

Things are not looking good for Veronica Mars.

Toasted Green Tea is full of the yummy.

I am totally over this week. Like, for serious.

So it's slow at work. Real slow. Slow enough so that I completely mirrored one blog, tinkered with another,  visited my usual "I'm friggen bored" websites, before eventually stumbling on The Freakonomics Blog. If you haven't read the book, do yourself a favor and get it, and if you enjoyed the book, then I encourage you to check out the blog. Topics which,in the last hour, have amused and/or blown my mind:

• Do Anti-Depressants Decrease Suicide?
• Your i-Pod will not crash the plane during takeoff/landing

I got some very good news last night. I am pleased.

David, Alison, Noah and I have started a blog to keep track of our competitive Gossip-About-Britney-Spears game. So far, Team Julie (David and I) are ahead, (as you can tell by the scorecard) but I'm not sure Alison is getting much support from her OBB (Original BritBritBitBit) Teammate.

Some of this stuff is amazing. Check it out.

The BritBritBitBit

I think this might be a tit man/foot fetishist's wildest dream. (be warned, there ARE pictures)

I totally got my hairs cutteded! Pictures to follow, I didn't have time last night.

It's short.

And cute.

And I have little bangs.

New Glasses on Saturday = whole new me!

My New York trip is coming together quite nicely. I sort of can't wait. If New York was a person, it would be your best friend from college who is always negative, but super sarcastic and funny and snarky, but if you hang out with them too much, they talk you into believing in Nihilism and make you think listening to Beck's Sea Change 15 times in a row is healthy.

But for a weekend, they're super fun. That's who it would be, alrighty.

Ohohoh, and an EXCITING gauntlet was thrown last night: Alison and her officemate Noah challeged David and I to a BritBritBitBit contest. We're competitively trying to find the most insane Britney thing the internet has to offer. This has been an unofficial contest for a while. Previous finds:

• Britney joins Minor Threat
• The Ultimate Britney Site
• And today's submission to the BritBritBitBit: Britney is a bipolar with paranoid delusions, a suicide attempt in rehab, and a friend of Mia! I can't imagine why she thinks she's being watched all the time...

I can't decide if the BritBritBitBit makes us bad people.

This week I am:
* Getting my hairs cutted (!)
* Having drinks with my favorite ex (I'm not being sarcastic, he is. And I rarely get to see him.)
* Getting new glasses (I lost mine about four years ago, and put off buying new ones for financial reasons.)

Also, my cold feels like it's moving. There's rumblings, anyway. And by rumblings, I mean my sinuses are drying out and I'm actually hacking something up, instead of just hacking.

That may have been a scootch too much info, but I'm all about the honesty.

I leave for an extended weekend in New York next week.

I could be wrong. I could go through my blog last year and figure out when, exactly, I was diagnosed. But I am lazy and prefer half-truths, so I'm gonna go ahead and say it was a year ago that I had pneumonia. Trapped in my Queens apartment with no cable, no television antenna (ergo: no television.) I spent all day surfing the net, reading 10 year old copies of Mojo magazine, (turns out Kurt Cobain is hot shit) and generally losing my mind. The only people I'd speak to were my parents, my gusband, and the special male friend of mine who was almost as bored as I was, out in the middle of no where.

I was left to think. A lot. About why I was in New York. About existance. About the ceiling. About that fella, and why I felt the need to call him. How not OK that was. But dammit, I was miserable and sick, and the high point of my day came when I got to dose myself up on codene cough syrup and float away with flying bunnies.

I didn't leave my house for a week. Literally. And only then against doctor's orders, but because I knew I would lose my mind if I didn't.

Ever since the pneumonia, I've been relatively healthy. A few colds, but nothing bronchial. Until three days ago, when I started coughing. I stayed home Friday, slept a lot. It's not even close to the rib-bruising coughing of the pneumonia, but it scares me none-the-less. I am not one who takes well to helplessness. Mostly it makes me jittery and skittish, and not a little bit like Tweak from South Park. I rarely let people take care of me, and only out of pure need, and/or complete lack of ability to take care of myself.

So, it's 40+ degrees outside. I decided I needed to get out, so Mares and I avoided puddles to go grocery shopping. I saw people I know. I remember why I love Church Street in the non-dead of winter. I wore a short skirt. (and tights and above-the-knee socks, don't worry about sick lil' me being underdressed) and I treated myself to a nice mug of Thereflu.

Movie notes: Babel was totally a better movie then the Departed. I'm a sucker for non-linear editing, though.

I'm gonna take a Thereflu related nap now, so that I can wake up and clean my room so that when people come to look at the house tomorrow , it won't be embarrassing. A.) Living in a house that is on the market makes me feel a little like the Bluthe family, living in a model home B.) my old boss is the realitor. Wierd.

Oh! The gods of mail order provided again, with my anatomical heart necklace. I anatomically heart it. And Dolly Parton is on the way! Huzzah! I love dem interwebs.

Turns out, all it takes to get me de-crankied is a magnum of wine, my two favorite gusbands, a tiny dog, and Stel Magnolias. Also, buying AB's recommendation from the post below helped a LOT. Also, I got my new summer uniform from the mails. All I need is a pair of roller skates, and I'm totally golden. Summer of Roller Girl!

I'd be a better Buddhist, but I do love THINGS so much...

It's shaping up to be a busy weekend. Friday is my step-nephew-to-be's 8th birthday party. We're playing poker. The kid plays poker. I'm not kidding. I suspect he might be pretty good. Saturday is second Saturday, the magical day where all the thrift stores in the Champlain Valley open up on the same day. Then Mares and David are getting matching tattoos (no, really) and then Erich's in town! I'm hoping I can get him to go dancing with us.

And Sunday I recover. As always. Amen.

I'm cranky. I just wrote a whole rant about how cranky I was, and why, and then the self-indulgence of the rant pissed me off, so I deleted it.

Instead, here's a video of chickens breaking up a bunny fight.


That made me feel slightly less cranky.

First 3/4 of The Departed: rad. Last 1/4: I can only suspend my disbelief so far. I was impressed with Leo, though. I'd lost faith, I'd lost faith.

I also watched half of the Queen. Charles is a whiner.

Two things that are full of the cheer: I get to Ednasit tonight! And this story, about a moose attacking a helicopter! Except the moose died, so less great. They should have made that moose King of All Mooses.

Well, Keely and Du is done. I had a teensy, tiny, almost nothing part, but I'm pretty proud to have been a part of the production. My dad came on Saturday night, and called me the next day and asked me to find out how he could volunteer for Women's Rape Crisis Center. Which makes me proud and sort of makes me want to cry.

I'm busy at work today, so I can't make this interesting. Sorry. Planning my NYC trip. I'm a little bit concerned that I'm over planning, but A.) there's so much I miss! I don't regret for a second moving back, but I do love New York a lot...B.) Loyal's never been, so I feel this neurotic need to show off my favorite city. Like when you play a band for a friend for the first time and stare at them saying "No, wait for the bridge! FUCKING AMAZING, RIGHT? RIIIIGHT?" And they look at you like you're a nutball, and say "Yeah, they're...alright."

Tonight I'm going home and watching The Departed. In my pajamas. In bed. Amen.

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So my mouse at work decided to crap out. The IT guy couldn't figure out why, figured it was some sort of motherboard issue (coughcoughWhyIBuyMacscoughcough) and gave me a new computer with a sassy flat screen and a keyboard that is way fun to type on. Super responsive. Like driving a Corvette after getting used to a Tempo. (my first car: 1989 Ford Tempo. Powder Blue. I replaced EVERY MAJOR system in that car. You know how Blue Book gives happy, frowny, or neutral faces for major systems in the cars it rates? It have the '89 ALL FROWNIES, except for the radio, which got a neutral.) Anyway, I like typing a lot, and would feel a train of conciousness post coming on, were it not for the fact that the owner of the agency (er, Marketing Firm) just told me to go home if all my work is done. So I'll keep this one snappy.

You should come see Keely and Du tomorrow and Sunday at the Flynnspace. If your secret fetish is to see me in a prison guard uniform, then you're in luck. I've been threatening to replace the buttons on the guard shirt with snap buttons, and on the last night, rip the shirt open while launching into an especially raunchy version of "When You're Good to Mama," from Chicago, and everyone laughs and doesn't think I have the balls.

Which I don't. But it's a good idea.

Tonight the play got canceled due to the weather. Which I'm OK with, la familia was discussing doing something tonight involving a projector and popcorn and booze. Tomorrow, I have the play and then the Divine Ms. Tanya is turning 30, and I must dress glamorously and shake what my mother gave me at her party.

I had a thought while walking home last night. My iPod randomly gave me Walk on the Wild Side, which is among my top 5 songs of all time. And I consciously thought, "I want for nothing in this moment. This moment is full."

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The preliminary photography is in. Of course, my skin decided that Oscar night is a grand time to have an allergic reaction to something, so I'm red and blotchy instead of polished and alabaster.

Shout-out to Eva, whom I met, as we interweb-dorks say, IRL. It was well attended, and we found out that Dwight's name is Dwayne, and that we're total assholes who have been calling him Dwight for like a year. GOD.

I love the death reel.

I was all swoony over Ryan Gosling until someone said he was a Mormon.
Dammit. Bringing your mother and sister to the Oscars when you're a
dirty, dirty, sinner: adorable. Bringing your mother and sister to the
Oscars when you're a clean livin' LDS kid? Less adorable, more
expected. Snore.



Dress rehearsal for Keely and Du tonight, tech tomorrow, shows Wed-Sunday. On top of my 50 hour work week, and my boss leaving for two days, so I'm in charge of her work. She's been gone one hour and I already got a call about something I have no flippin' clue about. Oh, and I'm exhausted and hungover and can't even go home. Hopefully, I'll get let out of rehearsal early. Or I might cry. From exhaustion. ::sigh:: delicate. little. flower.

Oh, and watch this video. It has nothing to do with the Oscars, but it's amusing, none-the-less.

In high school, my gay best friend Jeremey had a nickname for me: skank magnet. He claimed that wherever we were in public, if there was a creepy, leering man around, he would be drawn to me. This is my demographic. I'd like to do some real research, so if you've got a skank (and by that I mean someone who doesn't understand basic physical boundries of strangers, is disrespectful of social ettiquite, is relentless and...well...CREEPY. Staring is required. Endless staring) let me know. We'll put me and him in a room full of strangers and time how long it takes him to find and fixate on me. Like a mouse in a maze.I'm not bragging. It's just a sad-sack fact.

Quick quiz. Friday night was I:
a.) followed from Radio Bean to the OP by a strange, leering man
b.) danced up on by a large, drunken blonde woman and a hippie in snow pants
c.) propositioned by a hot lesbian. I wish I was gay, too.
d.) all of the above.

Holly and I went to see Swale. I love my Holly dates, but this isn't the first time that our powers turn on us and are suddenly used for evil. Against us. Our powers of Adorzabull. (except for c. that was just flattering.)

I didn't cry at Swale. I guess I was more cheerful then I thought. I love how lately, they'll do half a set or so of Swale songs (which I LOVE) and then half a set of Amanda-is-a-black-woman-trapped-in-a-white-woman cover songs, which I also love. It's just an amusing transition, and lots of fun to watch stanger's reactions to it.

When the leering man followed Holly and I from Radio Bean to the OP, and then found us in the far corner of the car, and then set up himself up two feet away from us, and proceeded to STARE MORE, Holly noted that at least we were collecting GREAT stories.

She's an optomist, that Holly.

Oscar party at the Nender tonight. We have press coming. No. Lie. Today we're helping Loyal buy clothes for the event. He doesn't own a tie.
"I was a monk!"
"You haven't been a monk for five years." ::helpless shrug::

Do come to the Oscars. Do dress to the nines.