Went bowling with Arlie the other day. Kicked ass at it. 188. 6 strikes. Damn it that felt good!
How is this for a targeted advertisments? SPREAD FEAR SO THEY CONSUME! In case you don’t live in London and your life is not threatened, you can go to the movies and experience the horrifying drama for yourselves courtesy of Oliver Stone.
I get bored if I’m not moving around. B O R E D. If I am in town for more than 2 weeks I start to feel very antsy. Looked at my travel schedule from when I moved to London. I guess it isn’t that of a normal person, but I hardly notice what is normal these days.
And I’m off again this weekend to hang with the Austrians for some fun in the sun!
Summer has been so awesome in London. I have been enjoying every day that it is warm and I can wear flip-flops and shorts and tank tops. I even bought a new pair of sunglasses after I stupidly left mine at the fag Clive’s house in Barcelona during Giles’ birthday weekend.
Everyone in London is in such a great mood when the weather is nice. I know I’ve said it before, but it is so true. You really feel like going out every night, eating dinner on sidewalk cafes and sipping some rose wine. Pretty much like 8 months of the year in Barcelona…
But thinking about it today, I realised why I am enjoying the summer months and weather so much. And it comes down to the fact that I haven’t had one painful episode this summer so far. There have been a few days when I felt under the weather, but there haven’t been any days when I couldn’t walk or my throat felt like it was going to explode or the general malaise that I feel during the winter. My hands have still gotten quite swollen and sometimes quite painful, but compared to what I went through last winter this is a blessing.
Now if they would only fix the air conditioning in the office so my fingers didn’t go numb things would be great! I just need great weather 12 months of the year and my world will be beautiful and bright.
Geez. This post has been a long time stuck in my head and I’ve never written it. It is a hard one for me because there is so much to say and I hardly know where to begin.
My Grandma Ginger played a huge role in my childhood and probably on the person that I’ve become. Bigger than huge. Some family members actually used to deem me a living reincarnation of Grandma Ginger (before she had even passed).
I adored Ginger so much. When I was growing up on the chicken farm in hicksville Reedley, she was the bright and fabulous, bedangled in gold jewelry, glamorous woman that lived next door to us on the ranch. A woman that would get her hair done in town every week. A woman that would read novels non-stop. Yes, my Grandma, who at 80 years old drove a Camero with the license plate HIYAGINGA. And the same woman that had boyfriends well into her 80s (my grandfather died the year that I was born).
Ginger was not an easy woman to get along with. I’m sure that her boys and my mother can attest to that. She had her Gingerisms. I’m sure they would say that she was demanding, spoiled and self-centered. But all those traits are things that a child doesn’t neccesarily see in someone that you idolise. And I really did idolise her…
GG used to take me into town with her on her weekly hair trips. On trips to visit her girlfriends in town. To the library to pick up her weekly read. She put up with Graham and I on our afternoon visits when we arrived home from school to torment her. She would scream at us for the crap that we used to ask her – things like “Grandma, when you die can I have your car?” (that one caused us to be booted from her house).
Every year she would buy us birthday cards and put money into them. She was an avid magazine shopper – the woman would receive no less than 50 catalogues per week in the mail.
She loved to play gin rummy. Graham and I used to win all the time until she finally figured out that we could see the reflection of the cards in her glasses and cheat.
Ginger loved her dogs. She always had a dog. Max, the one I remember best, was a stupid Irish Setter that my entire family hated. And when I say he was stupid…I mean STUPID. He once was lost for a few days because he had gone down to the pond and when it started raining he got stuck in the mud. Her last dog was some freak whose previous owners had its barker removed so he just made a horrible sound like arfff all the time. But she loved the dumb, pathetic mutts regardless.
Every year on her birthday she insisted that we all take her into Reedley to the Bear Club for dinner. Everyone (my dad and his brothers) hated these trips and complained non-stop about them, but everyone always went. Every year on Mother’s Day we used to have to go to the Sherwood Inn which always resulted in Uncle David making some drunken rant that we’d all roll our eyes at. When we were younger the best part about these trips was drinking Shirley Temples. Another thing that I’m reminded of is the overpowering smell of Grandma’s perfume. The woman knew how to pack it on!
One tradition that Grandma Ginger had in our family was to call all the boys on the day after Thanksgiving and say to them (as if they didn’t know after years of saying this), “Do you know that today is the biggest shopping day of the year?” I have taken over that tradition and try to continue that every year…
Grandma also used to make these embroidered calendars, stockings and knitted blankets. On the calendars there were little sequins where your birthday was marked. Somehow when these calendars were hung on the wall throughout the year you felt a little special when you would see your little sequin. Grandma loved you and remembered you. Graham also has his very special little blankey that Grandma made for him. I’m sure he still has it. A dark and light blue blanket that he used to share a corner with me when I was a baby.
As Grandma got older and I moved far away I saw a lot less of her. Not that I didn’t think of her and send postcards and letters. And she started getting older. A lot older than I ever remembered her to be. The last time I went to visit her she was having trouble remembering who I was. She would say to me, “You are so beautiful, what is your name again?” and then there were moments when she would remember me. It broke my heart.
When Grandma finally suffered a stroke and complications and was on her death bed I refused to go and see her. That may sound callous and cold to some people. But to me it made sense. And it is something that I live with and I don’t regret doing.
My Grandmother was a vain and beautiful person. I know that. I knew her. There is a lot of me that was learned by watching her when I grew up. And knowing that, I chose not to go and see her in that state. I chose not to remember her by seeing a shell of what she would want to be remembered as. I chose to keep her memory – her dignity and her beauty – in my heart as she would want me to remember her.
I really think that she would have gotten a kick out of who I’ve become and the adventures that I’ve had. I still have dreams about her. It is funny that so much of your childhood comes back to you in dreams. And she does – just as I remember her – with her done up hair, her gold rings, her smile. My Grandma Ginger.
Georgia Rose Robesky
30 August 1907 to 28 July 2000
Damn it, Dave Chappelle show is funny as hell.
Here is the Racial Draft – WUTANG MOTHA FUCKA!
A cute picture from the wedding. See if you can spot the nerdgirl – probably somewhere in the back drinking cava and not paying any attention to what is going on…
Ever wonder where those cute little emoticons come from that you use when you are chatting away? Well, there is a secret lab hidden at Skype in Tallinn that consists of a few very talented graphic designers who make those funny little guys.
I had noticed that sometimes when hanging out with one of these guys (Priidu) that he sometimes makes the same exact face as our beloved emoticons. So after a few beers the other night we decided to do a set of human emoticons.
Why do you blog? This is a question that comes up time and time again from people so I thought I’d set the record straight.
First off, when I started nerdgirl.com – back in 1997 – there was no such thing as “blogging”. In fact, I am old school and really don’t like the term blog because it sounds so web 2.0. I used to just call it “my site”. And my site consisted of crap that was important or not so important to me.
I once was given a business card of a person that had the worst tagline on it known to mankind.
“I’ve been spinning house since before house was house.”
Seriously. That is the tagline of a person who has just smoked a giant doobie of some Northern California skunk, had an epiphany and thought that it was so brilliant that he had to actually print it onto his business card to share with the world. An experience similar to when Doc fell and hit his head on the toilet in Back to the Future and invented the flux capacitor…
But I guess that is what I’m saying now (sans the mary jane or the time travelling Delorean).
“I’ve been blogging since before blogging was blogging.”
Secondly, people seem really weirded out that I share so much personal information (in terms of thoughts and activities) on this site. But that is also not entirely true. If you know me on a day to day basis and are called my friend then you know most of what I post on here leaves out about 95% of the good stuff. I try to keep it light. I don’t delve into my relationships or examine too many feelings here. I realise that there are points that you can take a barometric reading of the general state of my emotions, but you will hardly get an accurate view of what is going on in my heart.
The reason that I started nerdgirl.com back in the days was because I wanted to learn HTML (yes, the old fashioned handcoding pre-WYSIWG software days). I had nothing to create a website about except the thing I know best – myself. So I sat there with my Compuserve connection and 14.4k modem and uploaded to my shared webspace that I had to rent for about $20 a month for 5MB. And that site was awesome. Complete with embedded midi files of the Muppet Show, blink tags and animated gifs. It was called Stephanie’s Spot.
Over the course of time (as blink tags have died and technology has progressed) nerdgirl.com has evolved from a geeky learning experience into a postcard to my friends and family that are sprinkled across the world. It certainly is more efficient than having to write hundreds of emails to keep in touch with people. At any given time folks can log in and find out what’s up with me.
And there is something quite nice about being able to go through the archives (which have only been saved since 2001 due to the fact that there wasn’t a database backend before) and seeing what I was up to 5 years ago this week.
Was just talking to Giles about Danny and thinking about the days when we used to go to lunch together every day. We used to take about 2 hours that usually consisted of a lot of beers for the boys and a lot of vino for me. And we didn’t call them lunches. Danny named them “slunches”. Slut lunches. Because the entire time we would sit and talk the biggest amount of shit known to mankind. Damn it, we miss our Danny boy
Here was something that I wrote a while ago for a site called 1000words.net.
I only had the pleasure of having you in my life for 3 1/2 years, but you left a lasting impression on my life. I still remember the first day that you came to work. You were so young and so enthusiastic. Your smile won everyone over in an instant, but your inherent charm sealed you to their hearts forever. There were days that I scolded you as a mother would and there were days that we talked about life and our future hopes. I saw so many opportunities for you – in life, in love. You always worried about everyone else – to the point of your panic attacks – including me. During the times that I was scared about my health you were the one that took me to the doctors and the hospitals and the roles reversed, you became my scolder. Your heart was always in the right place even though your body would be about 10 minutes late getting there.
And you were there in all of our lives, a soul that burned so brightly at every moment of your life that all of your energy was used up and you had to leave us. I know that you would hate to leave this party of life, to leave all of your friends and family behind. And I have trouble trying to understand how to continue on without the glow of your light in our lives. It is hard. We miss you so much and our hearts ache to hear your laugh just one more time.
So, I refuse to say goodbye to you, Danny. I will just say hasta luego. Till we meet again.
All of my love,