If you like puppies, have a regular Internet connection, and poor time management skills, I suggest you back away from the live puppy cam and don't look back.
Grab coffee with a friend. Read a book. Go back to work. But do not enter this infernal portal of cute if you know what's good for you.
The first few times you're all, huh, I wonder what the pups are up to? Usually, they're in two modes. Sleepy, or rambunctious. Pay particular attention to the trouble-maker with the green collar. He's the one, invariably, who is stepping on some other oblivious pup's head or trying to incite a puppy riot. (I have my eye on you, mister.)
They look innocent, those pups. But crack cocaine probably looked innocent the first time some dumbass decided to smoke it. Yes, an extreme analogy, but when you find yourself, every hour, on the hour, needing some live pup-on-pup action, just because...you'll know you're doomed.
Just don't come runnin' to me. I warned you.
GiggleGiggle's Blog
Three Words: Live Puppy Cam
If you like puppies, have a regular Internet connection, and poor time management skills, I suggest you back away from the live puppy cam and don't look back.
Grab coffee with a friend. Read a book. Go back to work. But do not enter this infernal portal of cute if you know what's good for you.
The first few times you're all, huh, I wonder what the pups are up to? Usually, they're in two modes. Sleepy, or rambunctious. Pay particular attention to the trouble-maker with the green collar. He's the one, invariably, who is stepping on some other oblivious pup's head or trying to incite a puppy riot. (I have my eye on you, mister.)
They look innocent, those pups. But crack cocaine probably looked innocent the first time some dumbass decided to smoke it. Yes, an extreme analogy, but when you find yourself, every hour, on the hour, needing some live pup-on-pup action, just because...you'll know you're doomed.
Just don't come runnin' to me. I warned you.
GiggleRelated: Giggle's blog
Three Short Ghost Stories
I love Halloween, and I love ghost stories. I must be one of those people ghosts like, because I've had a few spooky encounters with them. Here are three short ghost stories. Two of them are mine. One of them is a friends. After you read this, if you have a ghostly encounter you'd like to share, please include it in the comments!
1. The Ghost That Liked to Spoon
Once upon a time, I moved to San Francisco in the winter, smack in the middle of the rainy season. It was unusually cold and wet that year, and it was my first experience living in a Victorian apartment (luckily, with a roommate). Most Victorians (built in the late 1800s) have long halls you walk through to get to the bedrooms, and mine was no exception. It was at the end of the hall. My first few weeks there, I never felt alone when I walked toward my bedroom. I would turn around to make sure my roommate, or one of his friends, wasn't behind me. No one ever was (visibly, anyway). One night early in the morning, I woke up in bed with the distinct feeling arms were around me. (Funny, that - because I fell asleep alone!) I opened my eyes, grabbed the soft arms, and made sure I was awake. I turned around, and of course, no one was there. After a few of these incidents, I realized there was a ghost child who liked to keep warm by spooning with me at night, and guess what? I obliged.
2. Another Cold Ghost!
Years later, I lived in Oakland in a 1920s cottage (I know, I need to quit living in old places). I fell asleep on my couch one night reading. In the middle of the night, I realized my blanket had fallen to the floor, so I picked it up and put it back on me, only to be in the same situation, shivering, a few moments later. Again, I pulled it over me. And then I felt a tug on the other end. (Not something you want to feel, alone, in your living room in the middle of the night.) Surely, I thought, nothing is tugging this. It's all in my head. But sure enough, I pulled it up, it tugged it back. I think my mind made me fall asleep to avoid what would have been sheer terror otherwise.
3. "I Used to Live There"
An English friend of mine (they're full of good ghost stories) told me a chilling story a while back. She was with her family in England, driving in the countryside, when her 5-year-old niece pointed to the right of their moving car, at a seemingly empty field. "I used to live there," she said. They had no idea what she was talking about. "Where, sweetheart? That's a field." Upon closer inspection, though, it was a small cemetery plot. REEEK! REEEK! REEEEK! REEEK!
Do you guys have any good stories to share??? C'mon now, it's HALLOWEEN.
Giggle
SourceRelated: Giggle's blog
Farewell, My Favorite Pair of Jeans...
I hardly knew ya.
I was wondering what the inspiration for my next blog post would be. Little did I know that it would come from the theft of my beloved Top Shop grey Baxter skinny jeans, won on eBay many moons ago, and practically perfect, especially now that they're gone. Stretchy and dependable, like a good friend (well, I guess a good friend is flexible, but you get the point), I could throw the Baxters in a scalding hot wash and fry them in the dryer and they still came out lookin' good.
I've heard that economic times are hard, but little did I know that they're so bad that, while I did my laundry, there lurked out there an eagle-eyed fashionista, who, poor of pocket and soul, just waited for me to leave the laundromat so she could snatch my Baxters from underneath my very nose.
Well, jeans-stealing girl, you'd better watch your back, because I sure as hell will be. I will be looking askance at every grey skinny-jean wearing biyatch in the Mission, and she had better be prepared to be subject to a withering interrogation about where exactly she got those jeans with the tell-tale slash-pocket stitching, until she's shaking in her '80s slouchy boots. And I hope you believe in karma, because as I furiously type this diatribe, the planets are aligning perfectly to exact revenge on your now good-looking ass.
Alas, I can replace the Baxters, but it will not be the same. My faith in humanity has been chipped away a little further. And now I have to stay in the damn laundromat for the entirety of future washes, forever more. (Or until I buy a home with its own washer and dryer.) ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?! (Shakes fists at sky.)
GiggleRelated: Giggle's blog
I Will Always Love You, Dolly Parton!
It has been waaaay too long since I wrote in this blog! I'm going to try to play catch up.
A few weeks ago I saw an amazing, amazing concert at the Greek Theater in Berkeley. It was Dolly Parton herself, the original country girl from the Great Smoky Mountains with the huge and expressive voice. Not only is this little lady immensely talented, she's hilarious and kind to boot! (And how in God's name she runs around stage in those stilettos is beyond me! Girlfriend's got some amazing gams.)
In between songs, she cracked jokes, told stories, and made the audience feel special. Regarding her crossdressing fans, some of whom, she quipped, looked more like her than she did, she would sing "Jolene" as "drag queen." When some smitten male fan in the audience kept yelling something at her, Dolly shot back "Didn't I tell you to stay in the truck?" When another overzealous fan tried to take her shirt off to give to Dolly— presumably with something underneath it — security tried to restrain her. "Oh, come on guys," said Dolly. "Let her give me the shirt."
On top of everything, I kid you not, she played: the fiddle, the harmonica, the guitar, a zither, and I'm sure something else I can't remember.
Lots of singers sound great in recording, due to all sorts of sound technology that smooths over their voices, and live? Not so much. But with Dolly, what you hear is what you get. This video from a concert of hers in Europe is exactly what she sounds like live. It's electrifying, and I get goose pimples remembering her sing it.
One of my favorite stories she told was about being a little girl and loving the way the town trollop dressed, with tons of makeup, tight clothes and big hair. "I want to grow up to be just like her!" Dolly said she told her horrified parents. "She's trash, honey." But Dolly, ever the secret rebel, said, "I'm not trash, but I grew up to look just like her." Love you, Dolly! You are amazing.
Giggle
Related: Giggle's blog
I Love New Orleans!
Tennessee Williams was once asked what his favorite things were. His answer? 1. New Orleans 2. Ernest Hemingway 3. New Orleans 4. I forget what and 5. New Orleans. (You get the gist.) I can honestly say I feel the same way. As another writer said, it's one of the only cities in the US that has foreignness at its heart — a mix of the Caribbean, African, European. . . And like Venice, it exists on the verge of danger with so much water around it. (Among its other dangers.)
But it has so much else besides danger! Great food, amazing music (the street musicians and dancers above, Loose Marbles, who were pretty much the highlight of the trip), incredible locals, and a dilapidated elegance that's just really hard to describe. I hate being "only" a tourist there, but I've never been able to entirely take the plunge to moving there. It seems as big a commitment as getting married. The last time I almost did it, Katrina happened shortly after my serious consideration. Decision postponed.
I just came home after a long weekend there, sandwiched between The French Quarter Fest and Jazz Fest. Highlights? The music at DBA and on Royal Street; raw oysters; chicory coffee; the beautiful French Quarter houses and oil lamps at night; the St. Charles streetcar; the assembled international pirates for PirateCon (!); a wedding in Jackson Square; a spicy Bloody Mary with a pickled bean sitting on the porch of The Columns Hotel; antiques on Magazine Street; St. Louis cemetery #1; talking to a bookseller in the Faubourg Marigny; the balcony view from the Hotel Royal...
I may end up moving there someday. New Orleans needs its eccentrics! And I need my daily oysters and southern decadence!
Giggle
CasaSugar loves Nola, too. Check out her link!
Related: Giggle's blog
PopSugar/TechCrunch Party in L.A. Was a Blast!
The Geek Goes Chic party extravaganza in Los Angeles was sooooo fun. We all headed down on Thursday, I came back last night, and as you can see from the smattering of photos above (yes, that's Perry Ferrell as DJ), it was a geeky chic good time.
With barely time to get ready, a bus-load of us Sugar ladies were dropped off at our Sunset Boulevard Hotel (once called the Riot House, I'm told, because of its prior '70s guests the Stones and Zeppelin)! We had just minutes to get ready (okay, 30 minutes), after which time we were then reloaded onto the bus toward Vanguard, a massive, very LA club.
What a scene. Free drinks, awesome little passed snacks, and up to 2,000 guests! (I worked the door for a while, and some people couldn't get in. Or maybe I can't spell. JK. Either way, I felt bad!) Two floors of wall-to-wall bodies, an outdoor patio where people were puffin' away and it was warm enough not to wear a jacket (shakes fist at San Francisco sky), with equal parts geek and chic mingling. At the Engage.com dating site party upstairs (as BuzzSugar mentioned, a name that's a surefire way to keep most men out!), someone asked if I were geeky or chic? I replied, "Cheeky." Naturally.
It was a night of drinking and conviviality, my friends! We bloggers spend so much time attached to our computers that it felt glam to be hobnobbing with the technorati. And I was chatted up by a smart and hot guy later in the night. What do I remember? Sedona, AZ. Industry party later. My blabbing about myself. Typical.
Afterwards, we all went back to the hotel, ordered pizza and drank some more! We didn't exactly live up to the heydey at the old Riot House, but we did have a security guard tell us we were disturbing other guests. Fun = at some point annoying other people. Now that's the mark of a good time!
GiggleRelated: Giggle's blog, Geek Goes Chic
Gem Sweater Extravaganza with Leslie and the Lys
I hardly ever go to live shows, but when I do, that act better put on a razzle-dazzle performance of a lifetime! And most recently, Leslie and the Lys did not disappoint. (Thanks for inviting me, CasaSugar!) If you haven't seen her vids on GiggleSugar, now's the time to check out the link. She's kinda like a midwest, female Elvis, but when the King was doing tons of meth. Her mouth runs a mile a minute; her gold jump-suits inspire awe (as does her prodigious gut, which she's quick to show off); and her backup singers look like shady CIA operatives, if Vice Magazine had an intelligence division. Her fans came out in droves in their gem sweaters (see the collage above), a few of them so intoxicated a fight broke out in the crowd. (Thanks for making me pour my delicious Scotch rocks all over myself, girl in the audience. You're mincemeat if I ever see you again.) Leslie and her crew and fans let their freak flags fly, and for that, I salute them all! (And Leslie, if you ever see this, I want to interview you!!!)
GiggleRelated: Giggle's blog
I Went to a Real Life Fight Club!
If you had told me a few years ago that I'd be into watching people bare-knuckle boxing, or chicks fighting, I'd be all "nuh uh!" (See above for a typical scene.) 
Well, after going to the East Bay Rats motorcycle club hosted Fight Night in Oakland for the first time in 2005, I gotta say, "Yuh huh!" I'm hooked.
Fight Night is a big party during which time anyone who wants to fight gets to. Men on men. Women on women. And even women on men (the one time I saw this, the woman knocked the dude out!) The rule? Not that you can't talk about it a la Fight Club, but that the winner is declared when the other fighter doesn't wanna do it anymore.
I went again this past Saturday, and although it wasn't the extravaganza it was the first time I went, it's a wild enough experience that I'd do it again. (In 2005, it was in a warehouse in East Oakland outfitted like a circus with 4 or 5 boxing rings and a rotating set of punk bands.) On Saturday, it was at the Rats' clubhouse, and as soon as we walked in, we knew we were in for a wild ride. Everything Must Go was playing/screaming, it was crowded, sexy bartenders wearing little more than duct tape were serving shots of Jim Beam, and two women were pummeling each other in the back. (Interesting gender schizophrenia, if you asked me!)
I later talked to one of the women, and asked her how she came to even have the nerve to step into the ring. "A friend told me about it," she said, "and as soon as I saw it, I knew I wanted to get up there." I don't know how it's possible, but even though she "lost" and really took a beating up there, she looked perfectly fine! I'm sure she's black-and-blue now, though!
I'm not one to condone violence, but in a strange way this isn't real violence. Fight Night displays the performance of violence, without the anger or the damage that can happen. It's a contained/controlled way to be physically extreme, without the emotional violence that goes with it. I'll take my Cute Overload most days, but a couple times a year, Fight Night is just what the doctor ordered.
Giggle
Well, after going to the East Bay Rats motorcycle club hosted Fight Night in Oakland for the first time in 2005, I gotta say, "Yuh huh!" I'm hooked.
Fight Night is a big party during which time anyone who wants to fight gets to. Men on men. Women on women. And even women on men (the one time I saw this, the woman knocked the dude out!) The rule? Not that you can't talk about it a la Fight Club, but that the winner is declared when the other fighter doesn't wanna do it anymore.
I went again this past Saturday, and although it wasn't the extravaganza it was the first time I went, it's a wild enough experience that I'd do it again. (In 2005, it was in a warehouse in East Oakland outfitted like a circus with 4 or 5 boxing rings and a rotating set of punk bands.) On Saturday, it was at the Rats' clubhouse, and as soon as we walked in, we knew we were in for a wild ride. Everything Must Go was playing/screaming, it was crowded, sexy bartenders wearing little more than duct tape were serving shots of Jim Beam, and two women were pummeling each other in the back. (Interesting gender schizophrenia, if you asked me!)
I later talked to one of the women, and asked her how she came to even have the nerve to step into the ring. "A friend told me about it," she said, "and as soon as I saw it, I knew I wanted to get up there." I don't know how it's possible, but even though she "lost" and really took a beating up there, she looked perfectly fine! I'm sure she's black-and-blue now, though!
I'm not one to condone violence, but in a strange way this isn't real violence. Fight Night displays the performance of violence, without the anger or the damage that can happen. It's a contained/controlled way to be physically extreme, without the emotional violence that goes with it. I'll take my Cute Overload most days, but a couple times a year, Fight Night is just what the doctor ordered.
Giggle
What's on Your Bucket List?
I love lists, and although you won't find me at the Jack Nicholson/Morgan Freeman movie The Bucket List any time soon, I like writing down all the things I can think of that I wanna do before I kick the bucket. So, off the top of my head:
1. Live in a foreign country for at least a year and just write.
2. Cross country trip in one of those old, beat up VW vans with friends, with occasional camping outside.
3. Make a short film or documentary.
4. Write a book. (Ideally publish a book, but I have less control over that than I do writing.)
5. Write a screenplay. (Again, ideally have it turned into a movie, but I should probably get in the long line of wannabes for this one.)
6. Do significant charity work and/or adopt a child.
7. Rent a few riads in Fez, Tangier and Marakkech, Morocco with friends for a few months and then travel to the Sahara and sleep under the stars.
8. Get an amazing little apartment in the French Quarter in New Orleans and decorate it with funky antiques.
9. ???????
10. ??????
What's on YOUR bucket list?
Giggle
SourceRelated: Giggle's blog
Happy Valentine's Day!
This blog post could go in a lot of predictable directions regarding a day that a lot of people — attached and single — feel ambivalent about: Valentine's Day.
Instead of saying too much about it, I will just leave you with a cute video of cats lovin' on each other.
Happy Valentine's Day!
Giggle
Related: Giggle's blog
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