February 4, 2014
[This survey swiped liberally and without apology because I am just like that from Rachel.]
1. Do you like anyone? Oh yes, madly. Say what’s the polite time limit on tossing possessions an ex left at your place?
2. Do they know it? Oh hell no, no one needs that kind of power.
IN THE LAST MONTH HAVE YOU:
1. Had someone buy you something? Rumor has it birthday prezzies are in the mail. Yay!
2. Bought something? Food and rent, Baby, food and rent.
3. Gotten sick? I do not refer to it as “sick,” I refer to it as “dancing like the lights aren’t on.”
4. Been hugged? Oh you madman. It is germ season.
5. Felt stupid? Before or after espresso doubleshots?
6. Talked to an ex? Why “talk” when you can exchange passive aggressive texts?
7. Missed someone? That Fed Ex guy is so wiley.
8. Danced crazy? What about “dancing like the lights aren’t on” was not clear?
9. Gotten your hair cut? No but my color is fabulous.
10. Lied? I am sure so but it comes so naturally — oh wait, you mean to other people?
HAVE YOU EVER. . .
1. Said “I Love you” and meant it? Of course. I was not hatched from an egg.
2. Given money to a homeless person? I have given money to people on the street — I did not ask about their accommodations.
3. Waited all night for a phone call that never came? Does getting black out drunk count as “waiting”?
4. Sat and looked at the stars? Sure but those little bastards look back that is suspicious behavior if you ask me.
5. Do you swear? Exactly what the fuck do you mean by that?
6. You’re happy with your hair? In my universe, the correct question is, Is my hair happy with me?
7. Do you like to swim? This survey was written by a Golden Retriever right?
8. Call a friend when you’re bored? I blog to avoid boredom.
9. Flowers or angels? “I’ll have what the quiz writer is having.”
10. Gray or black? Gray. [That is my sassy attempt to convince the universe I am striving for harmonious balance. Did it work?]
11. Color or black and white photos? “Black and white” is gray, Cupcake.
12. Lust or love? Let’s go with lust. Big lust. Huge lust. Really amazing shocking rock hard abs slam you up against the wall sweat till you break… um, maybe we should skip this one.
13. Sunrise or sunset? Midnight, Baby, Midnight.
BONUS VALENTINE’S QUESTIONS:
1. You have a valentines planned out to have? No but I am counting on champagne and batteries coming through.
2. Do you like having a valentine? I am sorry that journal is in storage.
3. Does someone like you currently? Oh I have an ever-changing cast of stalkers….
4. Are you even worried about the upcoming holiday? Worry is for deadlines. Holidays, I celebrate.
5. What’s the best gift to receive on the day? I’m going with wall sex. Wait. It’s not my fault. You asked about love or lust! It’s subliminal suggestion. Entrapment! I was framed!
[Say, is there a special prize for the bonus questions? I missed that part. Also, my answers and Rachel's answers are so damn similar at times I am still checking for scars where an attached twin may have been surgically removed at birth.]
January 22, 2014
Where? Austin Texas
When? February 12
What Time? 12:01 AM until closing [we use the term "closing" loosely]
How should you celebrate MaxMas? Oh let us count the ways… wait, we do not want to overwhelm you, let’s do a top five:
TOP FIVE WAYS TO CELEBRATE MAXMAS:
1. Buy Max incredibly expensive shoes. This is always a favorite, and also Dolce is a serious fave, but you might require a shoe size to pull it off and only very special people know Max’s shoe size. Moving on —
2. Give Max a spiff Victoria’s Secret gift card. Of course, you probably won’t want to do that unless you are counting on actually seeing what Max uses that gift card for. Feeling lucky? Maybe not. Moving on —
3. Shower Max with Grand Marnier! Okay we are using the word “shower” metaphorically, do not under any circumstances actually douse Max with Grand Marnier. She is vengeful and also violent when it comes to cleaning bills.
4. Drop some cash on the save the wolves fund in Max’s name. Or anyone’s name. We’re good with Godzilla. Just do it. You will feel good. Max will feel good. Wolves will feel good. Even Godzilla will feel good. Yay!
5. Attend the MaxMas super super secret MaxMas underground party. [There is only one way to do this. Get the secret secret super secret party details. Be creative.]
That’s it sports fans.
Love and Kisses,
Your MaxMas Adams Girl
December 31, 2013
December 31, 2013
December 26, 2013
Know what that is? Ohyez, that is Minot North Dakota going Banksy.
I did not think we were going to get North Dakota but that baby came in at the last minute, just was we were wrapping up the Stripes count for Christmas. And you know what that means, right?
[No? You so need to get out more.*]
We got every state by Christmas. Yay yay yay!
*Don’t know what Going Banksy is? Wow where have you been hiding?
December 24, 2013
Of my life, flowers were always something someone else brought or gave to you. Mostly associated with men. And death.
Men came calling, men sent flowers.
[Not for me, pervo, I was a little kid, jeez, for adult female relatives and family friends!]
Loved ones died? People sent flowers. Which, if you ask me, is a kind of weird association.
Flowers = Death and Men?
That cannot be healthy.
Then I worked at this interior design firm.
One day one of the other girls at the interior design firm said, “Let’s go get some flowers!” She said it like that, too, with an exclamation point. We were all at lunch. But everyone rallied right then. And we all hopped into our rides and headed over to a flower place I had no idea existed and just went fucking crazy buying flowers.
We’re not talking roses. Actually the woman at the flower place was a little freaked out about the roses. If you pull flowers out of any other tub — and we are talking tubs of flowers all containing a lot of water — and get any water on the roses, even just a drop, the roses are toast.
But we were not after roses. We were after every other flower in the flower spectrum. And that day, I took peonies back to the office.
[Side Note: Dear Men: If you ever buy me peonies as a romantic flower gift? One, you have missed the point. Two, you will never see me naked in this life or the next.]
Buying those flowers was awesome. And after? The whole office was full of flowers. And we were all insanely happy. It was like those flowers lifted five levels of unhappy off everyone who saw or touched them.
After that, I bought flowers a lot.
Then things changed.
A couple rough interstate moves. Some of those days that say, “Maybe you should buy the pancake mix instead of the flowers. Some of those days when you start saying to yourself, “You don’t really need flowers.” And then get so used to saying “you don’t really need flowers” you just stop buying flowers at all.
Today I was in line at Whole Foods behind a man and his two little girls.
The little girls were probably about nine and seven.
The little girls were dressed for shit too. Those were not fancy clothes those girls were wearing. They were worn. Cheap cotton and frayed sleeves. And they had haircuts that yelled “Mom cut my bangs and she didn’t have a level.”
And their dad’s clothes? Not so much better.
But those two little girls had sparkley shoes. One of them had red sparkley shoes. And one of them had gold sparkley shoes.
And they were carrying tulips.
The girls’ dad talked to them like they were grown ups. He did not talk down to them. They were discussing things like dinner [mac and shells, they must have been East Coast, no one west of the Mason Dixon line says "shells."] And the flowers.
One of the girls, the oldest, named Charlotte, went off to get some plastic wrap for the flowers so the flowers did not drip after being pulled out of a bucket of water while she and her sister and father were all waiting in line.
I bought flowers today. White tulips.
They are my Christmas tulips.
Thank you for reminding me, Dad and the little girls with sparkley shoes, flowers matter.
December 24, 2013
My favorite Christmas story ever.
When in Doubt, Throw Hard Candy
[AKA The Santa from Hell]
— by Toni McGee Causey
When the kids were little — I think Jake was three and Luke was seven — Christmas felt like it was going to be slim. Make that downright anorexic. So I was looking for a way to bring a little fun into the season, something that wouldn’t cost much.
I had a brilliant idea. [I should come with a warning label: If brilliant idea occurs, step way-the-hell back for your own safety.]
Anyway. The idea was to have someone play Santa at our house for a pre-Christmas visit. We’d invite all the neighbor kids and their parents and each family would bring a gift for their child ahead of time. I’d hide the gifts away and squirrel them to our Santa, who would come in the house with lots of Ho Ho Hos and joy and jovial warmth and after regaling the kids with whatever it is Santas regale kids with, he’d give out the presents. There would be hot chocolate and apple cider, a beautifully lit Christmas tree in the background. Maybe even singing, if the kids wanted to sing. We would be so sappy, Hallmark would sue. Or throw up, but whatever, it was going to be great.
When I write it out like that, it sounds like a very nice day, doesn’t it? It really does seem normal and sane and I should have known that in my world, “normal” and “sane” do not apply.
December 24, 2013
At the risk of being grossly commercial here [hey it is Christmas, never say I do not understand the Christmas spirit o' commerce] if you are still running about and have not found that perfect gift for the screenwriter on your list [well diamonds would work too but let's say you are thrifty and want to keep it under thirty bucks] The New Screenwriter’s Survival Guide is available at these retail stores:
That only works if you are in Austin, Hollywood, Seattle, or Boston, but hey, we are doing our best here and you ARE the one who waited until Christmas Eve to shop, jeez.
*The book is also available on :::AMAZON.COM:::. In case you get any pesky gift certificates and do not know what to do with them.
December 22, 2013
December 22, 2013
Such an enforced extreme in your face “jocularity” during the holiday season, blaring from the speakers in stores and malls and hospital elevators, shouting at you from the television and radio, enforced cheerful near hysterical holiday mania shouting “Your life is supposed to be this!”
“This” apparently being some sort of Norman Rockwell painting that leaves no room for anyone not receiving diamond bracelets and being embraced by fat children and loving cake bearing grandparents.
There’s a whole world out there and a lot of it is not a Rockwell painting. And if you are among those not receiving diamond bracelets, ponies, new and overpriced phones, Ford trucks that according to Ford commercials are on every eight year old’s wish list, or the embalming love of Stepford relatives with perfect wrapping skills and even more perfect hair –
If you need to know you are going to be okay in place of a screaming message “you are not okay you are doing it wrong!” amplified across a million plus blaring electronic speakers stretching from Rhode Island to Hawaii?
And remember. It IS going to be okay.
*shout out to ana maria montoya for the danielle laporte link