haters to the left

I recently got a bit of a hate comment. I get one of these on the blog or on my youtube account every now and again, so I usually just laugh at them and continue with my day. Generally, and even in this case, the person just doesn't get the joke. And I don't take it personally if you don't get my humor. But every once in a while, something comes along that I must share with everyone. I was actually just going to post this one without comment, but I decided to check the original post to see if i deserved her wrath, and I didn't, so I will share a few thoughts.

First of all, I rarely get blog hate posts these days because I don't really write about celebrities anymore. Not that I ever really did. Something might come up every once in a while, but I usually leave the celeb stuff to the pros. I also used to do reality show recaps here, but I think I got only love from those posts.

To start, here is the post. Note that this post is from TWO YEARS AGO, when Katy Perry was just kind of starting to get big. Because this post is from TWO YEARS AGO, the video that I had linked in the post has since expired. Every single bullet point that I wrote out was 100% referencing the video that was posted, which was a performance of "I Kissed A Girl" on So You Think You Can Dance. Those are the facts you need to know. Here is the comment that I recently got:

I think what's moronic are the reasons listed for hating Katy Perry.
Reasons for hating any celebrity really. No one should even care this much.
If you had a friend named Katy Perry who named her cat "kitty purry," you would think it was adorable.
She wasn't the sexiest woman of the year for nothing.
She's a funny sexy celebrity who knows how to appeal to her listeners.
Even if I didn't like her music, if she came on the radio I'm not thinking about how her voice doesn't match her body or how she dresses or what she (cleverly) named her cat.
If you don't like her music don't listen to it.
And definitely do something more productive the next time an unimpressive celebrity comes along, rather than post a hate blog about a celebrity, get a cat.
So we don't have to hear about the retarded things you choose to hate and your terrible, shallow reasons for hating them.
Everybody reading this knows you won't do that of course because the only reason you post hateful blogs about anyone is to feed off the attention you're getting, good or bad.
Your own friends hate you. Everyone hates gossipy bitches who trash celebrities online.

Now, I don't want to get too harsh here, because to me, it doesn't matter. But, then I realized that she was not only referring to me, but she was also hating on my friends. When I went back to the post to refresh my memory, I was reminded of a previous hater in the comments, and the resulting minor back and forth between my defenders and this dude. The dude called me a moron, so a defender of mine turned that moron back around on him. this NEW hater, Sav, picked up that moron and ran with it, and has decided to comment on the whole situation, apparently treating it as one long post that I wrote entirely. Let's break this down, shall we?

I think what's moronic are the reasons listed for hating Katy Perry.
Reasons for hating any celebrity really. No one should even care this much.

-- i actually don't really hate katy perry. i don't really give a fuck about katy perry. and i never said in the post that i hated her, i said that i couldn't love her because of the 10 reasons listed related to the video. Of the 10, 4 are specifically about the song. I will allow that if you don't personally know me, you can't even begin to understand why I have a huge problem with the song "I Kissed A Girl", but it makes me sad that the reason that song is not great isn't easily recognizable.

If you had a friend named Katy Perry who named her cat "kitty purry," you would think it was adorable.

-- This is actually not true, I wouldn't. But also, you are calling out my brother here. I didn't say anything about her cat in the original post.

She wasn't the sexiest woman of the year for nothing.

-- I believe I did allude to her redeeming quality being that she's hot.

She's a funny sexy celebrity who knows how to appeal to her listeners.

-- Okay. Good for her.

Even if I didn't like her music, if she came on the radio I'm not thinking about how her voice doesn't match her body or how she dresses or what she (cleverly) named her cat.

-- Okay...Good for you...(someone really likes that cat name, huh? do we think her cat wrote this comment?)

If you don't like her music don't listen to it.

-- I don't. Thanks. The performance was forced upon me on a show I enjoy watching.

And definitely do something more productive the next time an unimpressive celebrity comes along, rather than post a hate blog about a celebrity, get a cat.

-- If I get a cat, should I name it Kitty Purry? Should I name it Saroar Meowtinez? Also -- was that an admission that she's unimpressive?

So we don't have to hear about the retarded things you choose to hate and your terrible, shallow reasons for hating them.

-- Again, I never said I hated her. And again, the reasons listed were directly related to the posted video that I'm sure Sav was unable to watch. And just to throw some of Sav's own logic back, why read about the things I choose to hate if it bothers you?

Everybody reading this knows you won't do that of course because the only reason you post hateful blogs about anyone is to feed off the attention you're getting, good or bad.

-- Everybody knows!! Everybody who enjoys reading two year old posts!! EEK! I GOT SO MUCH ATTENTION FROM THAT ONE BLOG POST HOW DID SHE KNOW THAT WAS THE ONLY REASON I POSTED IT?! AND I'M FURTHERING THE ATTENTION BY HIGHLIGHTING THIS HATEFUL BLOG COMMENT SAV POSTED. WHAT A PARADOX!! HOW META!!

Your own friends hate you. Everyone hates gossipy bitches who trash celebrities online.

-- well, friends. i didn't realize you all hated me. i will stop trying to hang out with y'all. but i wonder who she's talking about when she refers to 'gossipy bitches who trash celebrities online' -- perez maybe? because i don't really like him either.

mingus and the drifter

My apartment has a nice little corral/balcony sort of deal that I'll one day put a fancy set of porch furniture in so pals and I can drink beers and stare at the houses across the street. For now, it just holds a few things that I brought from NY that have no place in my current apartment. And a plant that I always forget to water (which is why I don't have kids). I was just out there for a minute, when I heard an enthusiastic meow. I jumped a little, because the cats that live in my building are not this vocal. There are two that come from across the way, Charlie and Tango. And then there is a fatter black one that hangs around, though I don't know who he belongs to.

When I turned to see which cat it was, I was greeted by a larger adult long-haired gray and white cat with the cutest little face. I said to the cat "Woah. Who are you? Where do you come from?" He responded with a meow. This cat was unlike other wandering cats I usually see. He was super-friendly, had soft hair that was dirty on the white part (though it didn't seem like he was used to being dirty), and he really wanted my attention. Any time I turned away from him or stopped petting him, he put his little paw gently on my leg and mewed. I wished at this moment that I could speak cat, because I'm pretty sure this cat belongs to somebody, but he was wearing no collar and he wasn't telling me what I needed to know in English.

Then, in a little crevice in the floor of my corral, I saw a little black something sticking out. I retrieved it from the crevice, and saw that it was a collar and ID tag. Oh glorious day, I thought. Let's save this cat. I checked out the collar information. It said "Mingus" and had two phone numbers and an address I was unfamiliar with. Now, I'll admit...because I hate the phone so much and because interactions with strangers make me uncomfortable, I hesitated for a minute about calling these people. I thought, "Oh, they must live nearby, I'm sure he'll wander back." I said to the cat "Are you Mingus?" He did not answer. I looked up the address on my phone, and saw that it was in the Barton Springs area. aka pretty far from where I live in cat-wandering terms. So I called the number.

As the phone rang, I thought about all the different ways I could lead into this. As the phone rang multiple times, I thought about how serious I was about leaving a message. But this cat -- it kept looking at me with it's cute lil eyes and it's sad little mews, so I soldiered on. A lady picked up on the fourth ring.

L: Hello?
Me: Hi...umm...Is this Sydney* or Jamie*?
L: Uh....yes?
Me: Um...do you have a cat...named Mingus?
L: Yes! I do!
Me: Um...is it a gray and white cat?
L: Uh...what do you-- no he's more like black and white.
Me: Hmm...Well, I just found this collar in front of my apartment, and it was next to this gray and white cat...he wasn't wearing it, so I thought I'd give the number a call. He's a longhair cat with a white bottom and a gray top.
L: Hmm...no that's not him. Where are you?
Me: I'm in Hyde Park. I saw that the address on the collar seems pretty far from here, so I didn't know...
L: Yeah, I just moved to Hyde Park from the Barton Springs area. I lost him after I moved. He's been missing for a little while so I'd pretty much given up, but when you called I got so excited. (break my heart)
Me: Ooh...I'm so sorry I got your hopes up.

So I asked her more about Mingus and told her I'd keep an eye out for him. She actually lives like 5 blocks from here, so she said she would come to my area and do another search for him. I honestly don't know how long that collar had been there. It looked roughed up. I have not seen a black cat with green eyes and white whiskers/paws at all (Mingus), but I did notice that this mystery Longhair cat seemed fond of the collar. He would grab it in his mouth when I put it on the ground. I worried that Mingus lost his collar somewhere else, and this transient had lifted it (like the cat version of finding treasures that he'll pawn later) and brought it to my corral.

Now I have two problems. Because I have Mingus' collar, I feel personally responsible for finding him, since nobody will be able to call the number if they do find him. I also have this awesome gray and white cat that I want to bring into my house and bathe and spoon and then get into wacky scenarios with. But also, I want to find his home, because I have a feeling he's lost too. Will anyone win here?!?


*names changed for no good reason, really...

la vida rica: pt. 3 - crossing the line

Before he heads to the next room, Bravo grabs me and kisses me on the cheek. I am fooled into thinking he is leaving, because the cheek kiss was so random, but alas, I am still not so lucky. After a few minutes listening to music in the next room with my father, Bravo beckons me to join them. I go, because I'm a nice girl that has a hard time being mean even when the situation calls for it. My father is standing behind his bar while Bravo and I are seated in front of it. Bravo decides to change his strategy.

He grabs my hands and looks me right in the eye and tells me that his girlfriend (!) is a model. She is tall, beautiful, blonde, and blue-eyed. And he would leave her in a second for me. I'm surprised to see how hard he's pursuing me if he already has a girlfriend, but that's the story of my life. I don't think I really responded to this, because I was probably at a double loss for words and also a little bit drunk. He mentioned it a couple more times. I think I may have shrugged, or laughed, or said "that's great" at his last mention of her because, god I mean, shut up already, I get it. You have this awesome chick and I'm shorter and browner. Anyway, he responded to my dismissal of it with "I don't like American girls." I laughed and answered "Well, I'm an American girl." And he says, "No. You know what I mean." Well, then why are you dating one and throwing her in my face? Meh. So I'm getting kind of fed up at this point. Bravo is showing his inebriation more. He keeps wrapping his arm around me and pulling me in to nuzzle/kiss me on the cheek. I feel weird that he's doing this in front of my father, because I know that this is probably about the time that my father is thinking up multiple ways to murder this man.

So, at this point, my father says that maybe it's time to call it a night. He mentions (to my great disbelief) the Memorial Day party we'll be having that Sunday, and if he likes, he can come by. Bravo puts on his bold shoes and says "Ok, how about you call it a night, and she comes to stay with me." TO MY FUCKING FATHER. I think this might have been when my dad started thinking of places to bury the body. My dad tells him that's not going to happen (still remaining surprisingly not threatening) and that it's time to go. My father heads to the kitchen and I start to walk after him. Bravo stands in front of me and gives me a hug. Then he goes to kiss me on the cheek, but turns his face at the last second. Since I've seen most John Hughes movies, I was alert enough to quickly turn my face the other way to avoid a forcible mouth kiss. He tried to go for the mouth kiss one more time, and again I dodged it artfully. And like every girl learns in rape defense 101, I told him "no!" and pushed him away. This was the last of my interaction with Bravo. My father said his goodbyes/see you laters to him and showed him out. Bravo sat in his car in front of the house for half an hour before leaving. He left a beer bottle on the lawn for my father to discover the next morning.

Also left the next morning was a strange voicemail on my father's cellphone. It was a lady saying that there was a man there that was too inebriated to drive home, and when asked if there was anyone to contact, he gave them my father's name. What was strange about this was that my dad had given Bravo his business card, which doesn't have his cell number on it. So we weren't even sure this was Bravo until my dad called the number back later that day and the bar confirmed that it was him, but it was all taken care of. And my luck finally kicked in when Bravo did not show up for the Memorial Day BBQ. I'm assuming he was too drunk the night he came over to remember his way back to the house.

I found out later that Bravo had been at the restaurant with three friends. He completely ditched them in the middle of their meal to hang out with us. And I don't think he even told them he was leaving. Something I also learned is that my brother is less protective in these situations and more pimp. He kept saying "What can I tell him? She's funny! She's smart! She's nice!" Also, my dad was pleased with hearing me speak Spanish, the most he's ever heard me speak. I was just impressed I could speak it after six beers.

la vida rica: pt. 2 - the wooing

The four of us leave the restaurant and we give Bravo a lift to the car. In Spanish (actually, from now on, just assume that everything Bravo says is in Spanish...he knew a couple of English words, but not too many), Bravo tells me that we are just driving him to his car. He asks if I understand, and I repeat "Your car. Is over there." Even though I've told him multiple times I understand Spanish pretty well, I just don't speak it very well, he seems reluctant to believe me. Many times throughout the evening he will verify with either me or my father that I am understanding him.

After a brief stop at the QuikTrip two miles from my dad's house (ricky and I couldn't make the extra distance...or at least our bladders couldn't), we arrive back at the house. Bravo is a few minutes behind us, so as my father gets beers out and my brother heads to the television, I keep a lookout secretly hoping we've lost him in the two miles since the QuikTrip. I'm not that lucky, and I see his car pull up. I open the front door and see him get out of his car, walk up to the For Sale sign on my father's lawn, pull it out of the ground, and bring it inside with him. He asks if the house is for sale and I tell him it is. He places the sign inside the entryway to the house and goes to greet my father. I take this opportunity to join Ricky at the television.

After some conversing with my father in the kitchen, Bravo comes to sit next to me on the couch. My father sits next to him. This is when the offerings begin. In addition to the aforementioned fashion boutique that he would purchase for me, I would also have access to his family's large tomato business, and multiple car dealerships. He offered to buy me a large house in Mexico. He offered to buy me the house we were sitting in, the house my father has been trying to sell. And, like, how am I supposed to take this? I would've had a difficult time explaining this in English to someone coming off as clueless as he was, so having to basic it up in Spanish I think made it much more difficult to get through his head. There wasn't anything glaringly wrong with this guy. He wasn't bad-looking, he was in his early 30's, and he was clearly very rich. My stepsister later talked about what a creep he was, but I actually didn't think he was too creepy. He kept talking about how this was destiny and did I believe in destiny. And I can understand his approach if he truly felt that. I just wasn't feeling it. And we could barely communicate. And we live in different countries. Do you see how I couldn't even take this seriously? Because he couldn't. He could not understand why I wasn't willing to drop everything in my life to tell him right then and there that I'd give it a try with him. He was all "But, I'll buy you this house!!" and I was all "But I don't want to live in Oklahoma!" and then he'd be all *confused face* "But I'll buy you this house!!"

After this, my father explained to him that I have a life in Austin and I like it there. He told Bravo that I wasn't interested in money, but "amor puro". Bravo stood up and asked why I was living the 'hard' life when he could give me the easy life. He then got down on his knee, grabbed my hand, and repeated that he was very taken with me and couldn't I see this was destiny. Behind him, my brother was doubling over in laughter. I was fighting laughing at that while still trying to keep a straight face for this poor, sincere, inebriated rich man.

At some point, my father had gotten up to get more beer. Bravo gets up from his knee, and sits next to me. He calls my dad over and says "Tell her about the horses." My father tells me something I guess he learned earlier at dinner, that Bravo has horses. Bravo excitedly interjects that he has 15 horses. He tells me about his favorite horse, a black beauty named Chubasco. He asks if I know what that means, and I say no. He looks up to my father for translation and I am told that it means "earthquake*". Bravo looks back at me like an excited puppy and pauses for me to be impressed. I smile and nod but again, don't really know what to tell him. He gets up and asks my father if they can listen to music. They go into the next room, while my brother and I stay with the television.

Stay tuned for the part 3, the exciting conclusion, wherein Bravo almost overstays his welcome.

*chubasco actually means 'squall' or 'storm'

La Vida Rica: part one - the introduction

For my father's 60th birthday dinner, we all headed to a Mexican restaurant on the Jenks river walk in Tulsa. It was a Friday evening on a holiday weekend, so the place was packed. We had some drinks at the bar while we waited for our table. I was engaged in a conversation with my brother, stepsis, and bro-in-law when my father's attention was pulled away by a fellow next to us at the bar. This is not out of the ordinary -- my dad is a man about town and he's a big cheese at the Hispanic Chamber of Commerce. It's normal for him to know someone wherever we are, and often he has Spanish conversations with these acquaintances.

At some point, my father introduced us to this fellow. (None of us can remember his name now, but it sounded like Bravo, so that's what we'll call him.) Bravo explained (in Spanish) that he didn't speak any English. It was right about this point we were summoned for our table. My dad gave this guy his card in case he could help him out in any way.  Bravo insisted that later on in our meal, my dad rejoin him at the bar for a beer. And off we went.

Now, a little about Bravo...or what we know at this point anyway. He was born in Dallas, but lives in Mexico. His family owns a big business in Tulsa, and every summer he comes here for three months to make sure things are going smoothly. He doesn't speak English. I assumed that the rapport he created with my father was business-related, and didn't give this guy a second thought.

After we'd been sitting at the table for a bit, my dad notices that Bravo has left the bar. We wonder why he would invite dad for a beer and then disappear, but we didn't dwell on it too long. A short while later, Bravo comes to our table from another part of the restaurant and sits right down. He and my father immediately start chatting like old friends, so my siblings and I have our own conversation.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Bravo gesturing a lot towards me. I turn on my Spanish ear, and hear that my father seems to be talking about me more than the other kids. I joke with Bianca that I think our dad is arranging a marriage for me and that they are discussing the dowry. We have a grand laugh about it. Little did I know my jokes weren't too far from the truth.

Bravo stays with us for our whole meal. My dad is the only one conversing with him, and every few minutes my dad will ask me random questions like, "have you ever thought about owning or working in a fashion boutique?" and "are you guapa (beautiful)?" (I find out later that Bravo is insisting that my father ask me these questions.) I realize now that this guy is super into me (the longing stares across the table should have clued me in sooner) and I worry that he's asking my father for my hand in marriage. My dad mentions that Bravo wants to come back to the house for a beer with us. I still am naively thinking he's building a business relationship and this does not have everything to do with me. My stepsister and her husband leave for the evening and Bravo buys the rest of us two more rounds of beer -- the second round being Pacifico, the beer from Mazatlan, where Bravo lives. I guess he was subtly trying to acclimate me to my future home.

Stay tuned for part 2, where we all head back to the house for some drinks.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone, suckas!

what's my age again

mom (talking about some john wayne movie): it was 25 years ago, so...
me: 25 years? are you sure?
mom: yeah, it was the 70's...
me: mom, I'm 26 and I was born in 1982.
me: oh wait, I'm 27.

conversations about ninjas

here is a conversation i had with my team leader when i got into work this morning:

TL: Oh, hi Sara. You snuck in today.
Me: Like a ninja.
TL: A what?
Me: A ninja.
TL: I don't know what that means. I've only heard the word.
Me: Ninja -- Silent, sneaky.... deadly.
TL: What is it, like an animal?
Me: No, a person!
TL: Is that a real word?
Me: Yeah! Ninja! Silent assassins. You never see them. You never hear them. Until it's too late.
TL: But, what--- Nevermind.

Fin.