half full

today is my last day in my office. all my stuff is packed and ready to go, perfectly placed for the movers to drop on a dolly and push down first avenue.

if you've ever stepped foot inside of our offices, you know why we're moving. while the eighties chic seems to be coming back in every sense (be it fashion, music or art), what we have here is never going to be back in style. but i will still miss it. in a world that is so current, it was always pleasant to enter a place trapped in time, architecturally, every workday morning.

today is filled with boredom. and chilli. and drinks. it's a celebration with half the agency already gone for the holidays. the other half will finish up their packing tomorrow and we'll all meet again on the 2nd, with our mouths open and our eyes wandering, exploring the new digs.

i've got my 12oz cup in my hand and my drink is cold. few more sips and it will be time for a refill. few more after that, and it will be time to go.

a few comments on 2006...

many people are writing lists to round off their year. these lists, as i understand them, generally consist of books, albums, people, events and other similar things that have had an impact on their individual lives. in looking back, i must admit my life has remained somewhat constant this year. at least more than usual and most definitely more than expected.

here are a few albums that caught most of my attention this year:
world without tears, lucy williams 2003.
twelve songs, neil diamond 2005.
dignity and shame, crooked fingers 2004.
twelve greatest hits, patsy cline 1988.

i also revisited some older episodes of This American Life, dating back to my arrival into the states.

and here are a few events that occupied my thoughts this year:
assassination of malcolm x.
string theory.
1918.
life and death of wittgenstein.
ridding resentment

here are some books i pondered during late nights:
working toward whiteness, david roediger.
mortified, dave nadelberg.
worldchanging: a users guide to the 21st century.
a series of choose your own adventure shorts, circa 1986.

plus, here are some friends who've said things that make my days lighter:
mary - "i need a handler"
leif - "you act like i'm fucking a baby"
pants - (insert dog puke sounds here)
randy - "so young. so sad"
rita - "i stayed at home"
gibbers - "hey, giiibberrrrs"
miles - "shut up"
katie - "we already ate"
isaac - "...and then julia got all mad at me"
nate - my face+nate's hand=WHACK
posso - "cabbage rolls!"
fraser - "ps. tell bullet she's gay"
nomi - "i am soooooooooo wasted"
petersen - "i'm not mad"
jenna - "make sure your shoes and your purse don't match"
morrison - "coffee?"
steve - "i smell like a stripper"

2006 hasn't been horribly fruitful in these parts, but there have been a few gems now and then. with twelve days left, it is time to be pushing for a bit more.

won't wash off

my dear shitlist,
it's been well over two weeks.

while i must admit that wiping clean twenty some odd years of a well developed shitlist has been a difficult task, creating a new one from scratch has been an even bigger challenge. i didn't want to just throw myself into it, the first entry had to be a fully reasonable one. one that would inspire future entries to stand for something. almost a benchmark of sorts, if you will.

since the initiation of the official shitlist i've done a lot. i've traveled. eaten out. drank out. met new people. talked to the well known ones. worked lots. played lots. ridden in cabs. ordered at coffeeshops. saw bands play. read. rode the bus. laughed hard. laughed hardly. forced a laugh. the point is, i've been in a lot of places. and nothing. nothing was worthy.

then thursday came around and the seville seemed like a great idea. in all honesty, i don't mind strip clubs. demeaning - yes. gross - yes. dirty - sure. but really, all those things combined actually made me want to take a look. i'm a curious kid. anyway, so there we are, at the strip club. and there are booths. men getting lapdances. bouncers looking tough. strippers dancing. some offbeat. some on.

it's not the strippers. strippers are fine. it's the stripper smell. and you know what i'm talking about. it's kind of powdery. a bit fruity. fluffy. babyish. with a hint of glitter. really thick though. the smell is as thick as lotion. and it's EVERYWHERE. it seeps into your pores. your jacket, pants. the second you walk in, it surrounds you. engulfs everything in sight. almost suffocating.

shitlist item #0001: stripper aroma

offense level: 4 out of 5

i must note, the aroma itself is probably only a 3. but, the fact that it sticks to you regardless of how long you stand in the wind outside as people blow cigarette smoke all around you, it does not come out. ever.

so there i was. on a thursday night. spending time with friends. drinking a beer. smelling like a stripper.

love,

veda

veda, the destroyer

i work in advertising. oftentimes, i cannot help but question what exactly it is we do. furthermore, i wonder how what we do affects the cultural landscape we live in. and lastly, why it matters in the first place. the troubling thing is, i really don't need to give it a whole lot of thought to know that the industry i work in is not benefiting humanity in any way. frankly, it's not a push to say that we are actually slowly chipping away at this world. bit by bit.
all morality issues aside, i must admit there is a little part of me that can't help but feel mischievous given the fact that i'm out to destroy the planet.

on my desktop today

seattle in six pictures, six paragraphs

nice. the whole row open. lift up the dividers and stretch my legs. do a crossword. read some. listen to music. the flight is three and a half hours long, and the time difference is two. it's 6am. or 4am. the starbucks latte is delicious.





crap. turbulence.

can't do the crossword because my pen exploded in my hand. it won't wash off either. forced to go to the meetings with one green hand. maybe some will rub off.




my work is done. time to get out of the hotel and get to the hill. the restaurant is full so i sit at the empty bar. best thing to happen yet. say hello to the bartender. make a new friend. order some food. yummy. jai thai. worth the $30 cab ride on my expense report. it doesn't photograph as well as it tastes. seriously. it was the most delicious meal of the month.



wait. or is this the most delicious meal of the month? cannot decide. it's a good thing they came together. say thanks for my beers and leave a tip. now off down broadway. there's music. and honestly, it's kind of good. stay around a while, one could make this city home.




morning. breakfast. pack. drive some more. "if we keep going, we'll hit canada pretty soon," i say. it's true. we're pretty far. and it's beautiful. the trees are still green. the mountains are showing the first snow of the season. overcast. rain. weather turns to shit. we drive further. it clears up. lunch. conversation. "what do you do?" oh, silly me, always doing silly things.



back to the starbucks latte. and the crossword. and the book. got my boarding pass. i'm ahead of schedule. looking forward to the $30 cab ride home to show up on my expense report.

the rating scale

as we all know, some offenses are worse then others. in spirit of ensuring the shitlist that comes before you is as accurate as possible, i have decided to employ the help of a ranking system.

lets say, for example, i eat at a restaurant where the food is good, the service is alright, and the music is absolutely unbearable. depending on how unbearable that music actually is (for the sake of argument lets say they are playing the latest Mariah Carey album) i may chose to put the said restaurant on my shitlist. not the most horrible offense, but an offense none the less.
but let us explore a different example. say i go to a restaurant where i am served on by a hopped up prostitute who takes my order no less than three times because she keeps forgetting each time and coming back to the table to "remind" herself. then, when the food comes out, it is completely different from what was ordered and to top it off, is garnished by an old, yellow, toe nail that has seen more life than you and i combined. this restaurant will also make it on the list.

the questions is, are they equals? no. and they really shouldn't be. the easiest way to clear up any possible confusion would be to rank the level of shit they are in as far as my personal opinion. that said, i have developed a 1-5 system which is accompanied with its own graphic for those of us who are more visual in nature.

1: bunny poop. it's cute and little but still stinky.





2. baby poop. if it's your child, you would say it's lovely. for the rest of us it's still shit.





3. dog poop. almost as same as baby poop, only on a more disturbing level.


4. people shit. no longer cute enough that it can be titled "poop" or "poo".


5. fat people shit. no explanation needed.



so there you have it. i look forward to my first shitlist entry. until then, i may as well enjoy the good times.

long time coming

today is the day. i am starting a "shitlist".

i can't count how many times i have been caught saying out loud "fuck that. they're on my shitlist" or "oh really? mental note - fuckface to the shitlist" or even "nah, i don't really know her but she's on my shitlist." only my closest friends can vouch for this. some of whom have made it on the shit list numerous times, and then off soon after.

the trouble is, sometimes i run into people and i just get that feeling; the "i think he's shitlisted in my book" feeling, but i just can't quite remember. i can't point to the incident, the date, the issue at hand. did we work together and he would always leave old food in the fridge? or, did we have the same class in college and he was always asking dumb questions? or, maybe i met him at the club and he kept talking on his cell phone during the show while standing in front of the stage... i don't know.

this causes me much frustration. what do you do? do you say hello, make conversation, although in the back of your mind you think this person may indeed be on your shitlist but you're just too forgetfull to remember. do you completely avoid them, simply for the fear of acknowledging someone who may be on your shitlist, but you feel like an asshole because you just aren't sure. these moments happen in life, and they question what type of person you really are. how well can you say you know the people who are on your shitlist? exactly.

i'm starting fresh. as of today, december 1st 2006 my shitlist is wiped clean. it is from this point at 3.30pm that i will begin to compile a new list of people, restaurants, bands, etc who fit the criteria. i invite you all to put forth any suggestions for consideration or to remind me of important ones i have forgotten.

never again will i be tripped up in the skyway, the neighborhood coffeeshop, or the street, stressed in my confusion about whether or not someone or something is on my shitlist. i will be sure. i will be organized. and i'll keep it all down in one neatly typed out list.