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Point Break of the Speed Matrix

Keanu is my Mac. He helps me reach you, Interwebs.

Monthly Archives: September 2008

This is a less badass version of the one I bought at store called "Prima Donna" in Queens.
My thinking cap. 

I don’t want to brag but I am a grown woman who currently stores a chest of props, akin to that of “Carrot Top’s”, in her lady apartment.  Purrr.

They are mostly leftover sketch show flair, Halloween costumes, wigs and large “Mrs. Roper” type jewelry.  These items are kept handy for when I need to break-up with someone and I want to give them a serious visual to remember me by.  When I give someone the keys to the street, I like the sound of jangling jewelry to punctuate my sentiments.
I also have an irredecent pink pleather cap from the Spring of 2004 when I played Paula Abdul in an American Idol sketch.  As you can imagine, that cap was just frills added to the already staggering physical similarity I share with Paula.  If  Tina Fey’s Sarah Palin makes you do a double-take, then let’s just say my “Paula Abdul” will make you crap your pants.
I am headed home this evening to fish it out of hibernation.  It is for a different character to be shared at a later date.  I just hope my head hasn’t grown too big from all the useless pokes I get on Facebook.

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So, I’m totally fine.  Never better.  Is everyone ok?  I’m not concerned.  Really.  It’s just a blip.  We’ll be partying like it’s 1999 in no time [takes swig].  I am confident we are on the road to recovery [does a bump].  Is anyone interested in some exciting land opportunities in the Everglades? [loads gun]

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Cleveland just dropped me home after another dinner at Curly’s folks’ place. Cleveland an I are both college educated people and have fairly decent memories.  This is not the first trip we’ve made to Curly’s folks place and it’s not that far from my home but somehow we managed to get lost on the way to and from there.  Two moving violations and 45 minutes later I am home.  It wasn’t so much our lack of a sense of general direction on the way over, it was more a lack of interest in looking a the directions page I printed before leaving.  Bygones.  

Getting lost on the way home is a mystery.  The only excuse is that we were both trying to outdo each other’s Minnesotan accents during the car ride by commenting and reading every sign we saw.  Yes, once a again being a comedy nard works against me.  We circled the Jefferson Memorial and passed the sign for 395 a second time saying in our best Minnesotan accent, “Oh, hey and there that goes. Okey doeky.”

Curly’s parents and Grandpa, thank you again for a DELICIOUS meal.  The scallops were divine and that chocolate cake was a sin.  I meant to whip out my best one liner before indulging in something so rich.  So please, close your eyes and imagine I have the fork to mouth and right before taking a ridiculous bite I look at Cleveland and say completely exasperated, “My agent’s going to kill me.”  HIYO!   

I’ll be here all week.  Tip your waitresses.

PS – Curly’s grandpa built a 50 foot roller coaster in his backyard when he was little. He said it was made of wood and lamented it didn’t go very fast.  Much like motorcycle enthusiast Keanu Reeves, Curly’s grandpa is a thrill seeker and speed junky.  I like him.

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It seems that not only have I inherited my paternal-grandmother’s sturdy farm girl constitution but also her sixth sense.  Yes, my late grandma, Nan, was a psychic.   If we were Gypsies she may have used a crystal ball, but we’re Irish so her medium was tea.   According to my parents she would sit at the kitchen table and read tea leaves from everyone’s cup after dinner.
The science of reading tea leaves.

The science of reading tea leaves.

I think most of the people she read leaves for on the regular  still live in Europe and think the “internet” is related to fishing (including my father), so I have zero chances of verifying any of her predictions.  However, past and recent personal phenomena lead me to believe that her talents were not simply parlor tricks for a household with no television or radio but rather on the REALZ  “Dead Zone” shiz.  

Let me explain.  I know she wasn’t left clairvoyant after a horrific car wreck like Christopher Walken was in the movie but she did give birth naturally to fifteen children in her marital bed with no meds.  Personally, I am not sure how I would separate these two facts by trauma standards.

Since Clay Aiken had the courage to “come out” today and shock the world by exposing his heavily-veiled-not-really-taboo-anymore-except-to-people-who-live-in-states-that-sell-things-like-fried-pickles-sexual-preference, I find myself inspired.   I shall take my cue from that fabulous bastard and stand equally naked and unafraid in claiming my birthright.  Friends, family, internet pervs….I am a food psychic. 

I see salmon pinwheels.

I see salmon pinwheels.

It’s true.  I suppose, like with any dark gift, I’ve always been aware of its presence within me.  But it wasn’t until a few years ago, when my tastebuds vested and I matured into a complete and total New York City food snob, that the “episodes” began to occur more frequently and with great resonance.

It always starts with a yen. I’ll feel a bit peckish. Then I’ll find myself verbalizing or thinking of the perfect food that would satiate me.  From that point on it’s a weird cosmic adventure and somehow the universe finds its way to let me know that I have chosen wisely thereby reaffirming the fact that I am a TOTAL food psychic. 

A “for instance” would be the time I was in Whole Foods and I was passing by the smoked salmon fridge.  I had just returned from London where my cousins prepared a lavish birthday dinner for me complete with salmon pinwheel starters.  J’adore salmon pinwheels.

 I glanced at the overpriced seafood wares Whole Foods was peddling and sure enough there were pre-made salmon pinwheels for me to purchase, take home and enjoy.  OK, wanting a food item and finding it in a supermarket is not that paranormal.  However, later that evening after enjoying several of those salty delights I turned to my then current read…eh, this is a little embarassing…I was still enjoying all things British after my trip…and it was playing on TBS all the time so I finally picked up…Bridget Jones’ Diary.  Fine.  Whatever.  Moving on.  I returned to the chapter where I left off and there in my sights is her sad little calorie list detailing regrettable indulgences such as….SALMON PINWHEELS.  Como se dice “Haley Joel Osment”, people? 

Are you still sitting?  Are you ok?  I’m ok, but I just had to step away from Keanu.  I get a chill every time I retell this story…which is A LOT.  Yes, that’s when I first fully acknowledged my dark gift.  I spent the rest of the night trying to lift heavy things in my apartment because I was convinced I was a superhero.

I took the day off from work and went to Union Station trying to listen to the thoughts of weary travelers. Nothing.  I hung out in dog parks attempting to read the thoughts of our canine brethren.  Nada.  It turns out it’s all just food related and can benefit no one in any way shape or form.

Flash forward to this past Monday.  Gordon Lightfoot is telling me about “Bagelfuls”.  They are these really disgusting frozen bagels made by Kraft with cream cheese stuffed in inside them.  Being a food snob and a New Yorker, I am aghast.  I almost don’t believe Gordon.  But we laugh and joke about the fact that Gordon’s 88 year old grandma loves those little suckers and I continue to chuckle about old farts eating bad things all the way home.

While catching up on serious news after my Western adventure I decide to take a peak at The Onion.  I haven’t read it online for quite some time but I was DRAWN to it that night.  Get ready.  Here’s what’s staring me in the face…

I’ll expect a visit from Mulder and Scully any minute now.  If I go missing please call your senators and tell them about me.  I am probably stuck in a bunker in Nevada.  Don’t trust the Smoking Man.  I love you. Good bye.

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Hey Tina, remember the time I sat behind you and Lorne at a UCB show back in 2002 and I didn’t say hello or move or speak?  No?  Ok…remember when I used to take extra long lunches at the Rock Center commissary hoping that I would spy you ordering the same lunch as me and then I would say, “This is crazy.  We have so much in common.  We both love turkey chili, went to the same college and love making jokes.  If I were half-Greek and 5’4″ we’d be twins!”  No?  I guess not.  I mean, you’re not a mind reader or anything.  Because then that would make you like a superhero too.  Wait, are you?

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I would say this is a fair enough representation in dress and size of your average Montana man.  This guy we found welcoming us to a Casino/Saddest Place on Earth in Joliet. This is a fair enough representation of your average Montana man…perhaps a beard too.  We found him on the side of the road welcoming passers by into a Casino/Family Fun Park.  “Mommy, when daddy stops crying can I go on the ferris wheel?”




Taking Rte. 212 to Yellowstone.  I packed clean socks.

Taking Rte. 212 to Yellowstone. I packed clean socks.


Beartooth pass.  "Oh look, a sheer death drop into the gorge 1 foot from the passenger door."

Beartooth pass. "Oh look, a sheer death drop into the gorge 1 foot from the passenger door! I love Yellowstone!"



The town of Red Lodge, located at the foot of the mountain.  We found safety and microbrews there (that's for another post).  Red Lodge, we will never forget you.

The town of Red Lodge, located at the foot of the mountain. We found safety and microbrews there.


Montana was an adventure and the wedding was beautiful.  I have some stories to share but I am in the airport now and I have going to spend the last few hours of my vacation eating champagne truffles I picked up from the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport chocolatier.

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