Cat burrito for breakfast

Pretty standard Thursday morning

Dream Job

NRP sleeps on the job

Ninja Rocket Potter (NRP) sleeping on my old desk.  If I could have done this all day, I might have stayed in that goddam miserable job.  Screw being a highly-paid travel writer — sleeping on a desk is my new dream job for sure.

occupy v. -pied, -pying

occupy v. -pied, pying. 1. To take possession of and retain control over by force. 2. To fill up (space or time). 3. To live in. 4. To hold (e.g., an office). 5. To keep busy. –occupier n. (From the Old French “capere” meaning to take or seize, related to “capable.”)
- From Webster’s II New Riverside Desk Dictionary

What does it really mean to Occupy Wall Street? According to Webster’s first definition, occupying requires force. So what does it mean when #OWS claims to be a peaceful occupation? Is that even possible? Surely the instigators of the protest knew what it meant to call themselves “occupiers.” They must have intended to summon images of armies residing in foreign lands, with no end in sight. Do they themselves feel like an army? 

Newly Underemployed

A week ago, I woke up newly underemployed. I had forsaken the movie industry in favor of coaching JV girls basketball.  Ahem, assistant coaching. I felt betrayed — by movies, by a close friend — two separate but intertwined betrayals. That was a week ago.  Today I feel better. The villains of my nightmares continue to pester my sleeping hours, but my days are free. Today, I’m writing, editing, hanging out with my cat, and teaching 14-year-olds to dribble two basketballs at once.

Monika Lind is a baller

I should buy my boyfriend Scrabble Cheesez-Its more often…

Corrections and retractions 11/8/11 11:07PM: IT’S SPELLED CHEEZ-ITS, NOT CHEESE-ITS, YOU FOOL.

Di Culetto

I’m baaaaaaaaaaaack!

When I lived in Italy for a summer, I learned many things.  Once, in conversation with my angelic host mother, I was trying to explain that I was born via caesarian section because I was coming out butt first.  I had nearly exhausted my vocabulary struggling to express “breech birth” when she finally had her “Aha!” moment.

“Di culetto!”

I looked at her incredulously.  ”Di culetto? Come culo?”  As in butt?

“Si, come piccolo culo.”  Yes, like little butt.  God bless the Italians, if you’re coming out breech, the doctor calls it “of the little butt.”  Or buttlet, if you will.

So “di culetto” is how I first wished to greet the world.  And when I feel that way now in my adult life, invariably I end up here, posting on my grown-up blog.

I’m back, y’all.

Di culetto,
MonnyBon

An Apologetic California Boast (by Jason Lind-Yelvington)

California is the most resented and admired state in the nation – the home of Reagan and San Francisco, Harvey Milk and Orange County. We keep the immense secret of the redwood forests. We produce Los Angeles, the nakedest city you ever saw. We are the scorched, barren depth of Death Valley. We are the lanes of fruit and nuts, milk and honey of the Central Valley. We move rivers to accommodate ourselves, while the earth moves our cities to accommodate itself. The northern border with Oregon is more meaningful than the southern border with Mexico; people come, and if they take root, we make room. We are a nation within a nation. We try to mitigate the revolution that we accidentally are, but there’s no wall of tradition we won’t inevitably outgrow. We are extraordinarily capable.

Do not come here and expect to thrive if you don’t immediately understand that the air is electric, the land haunted by pre-human phantoms, that the occult and the pentecostal are indigenous species.

By a writer who commands the hearts of all readers.

NomNomNomNomNom

Let’s talk about kissing, shall we?  In a recent discussion, I was struggling to describe my objection to the style of kissing I’ve encountered recently.  I couldn’t find exactly the right words.  Leave it to my hilarious copywriter friend to hit the nail on the head: “nom nom nom nom nom.”

I laughed my ass of at her comment, because YES DEAR GOD, it does feel like your face is being eaten.  Or rather: like your partner is attempting to empty your skull by scooping out its contents with his tongue.  Gross, right?  Let’s take a look at the most famous kiss of all time to illustrate our point. 

Guys with Girlfriends Vs. Boyfriends

My introduction to Guys with Girlfriends occurred during my collegiate single years.  Back then, I was famous for my epic crushes.  I could prize meaning from an accidental glance, and an off-handed flirtatious remark would send me into a days-long swoon.  I rarely got laid, but I was always in love.  I think my eager adoration made me a particularly appealing target for Guys with Girlfriends.  They enjoyed my attentiveness, admired my ability to banter, appreciated the way my face would light up when I saw them.

And this was not a one-way road!  Homeboys flirted back. 

Hush up and look at the gumbo!

The theater was packed for THE PRINCESS AND THE FROG last night.  9:40pm on a Friday night in Hollywood, and a couple hundred 20-somethings had paid $15 a ticket to watch a 2D animated musical.  And this was by no means an all-female audience.  These were not girls still hoping to turn into princesses someday.  In fact, I’ll be so bold as to claim that there was a solid 55% male majority in that theater.

Seroquel XR

About a week ago, I caught a commercial on Fox for Seroquel XR, a new anti-depressant that treats bipolar depression.  It shows a series of middle-aged folks dressed in clothes that camouflage them into their daily lives.  The voiceover talks about how bipolar depression can make you feel like you’re fading into the background.  It’s a smart, memorable commercial.  I’ve been watching a lot of TV lately, and I had seen the ad a number of times before last night.

If you’re like me, Wednesday is a big TV night for you, what with So You Think You Can Dance announcing results and the Glee kids singing their well-rounded asses off.  (Also: Modern Family!  I gotta set my DVR to record that “Incident.”)  So I was sitting on the couch last night, and my Brilliant Darling Roommate (BDR) was sitting at her desk, and we were watching SYTYCD.  The Seroquel XR commercial came on, and I reached for the remote to fast-forward through the ads to yet another shining moment with SYTYCD host Cat Deeley.

My BDR called out, “Whoa whoa whoa, pause for a second!”