KC Love, Birthday Edition

I was going to make a mix tape for my friend Kurt in honor of his birthday. "I want a disco themed birthday," Kurt sousedly admitted last weekend sometime between eating s'mores pancakes and asking me for all my thoughts on God, magazine editing and Stephen Hawking at 5 AM. It was a little late to plan a disco party, but it gave me plenty of time to tinker out a mix tape.

Unfortunately, my computer is sputtering today in a way that suggests that I must ambulate towards the computer hospital. The mix is not going to happen, despite the fact that I have assembled a track list that includes disco strongholds like Gloria Gaynor's Never Can Say Goodbye as well as some kitschy favorites like Barbara Acklin's I'll Bake Me a Man.

Instead, I offer a Crowcrastination birthday tribute to the how now in my brown cow. Like a mixtape, it probably has as much to do with the giver as the receiver... but that's what friends are for, no? Anyway... may I present:

10 Reasons Why My Psychiatrist Says We Have an Inappropriate Relationship

10 Reasons Why KC Love Won't Quit

1. I made that valentine for Kurt ages ago and he still keeps it tacked on his bedroom door.
   
2. Kurt once told me that his Mom had a glass eye. I believed him until he told me she also had no legs.
3. Kurt has absconded with my copy of Bridget Jones's Diary (a.k.a. BJD) over 2 years ago and I am only a little bit bitter.
4. Kurt used to light my hair on fire, strand by strand. Despite my threats, he still has his nads.
5. He is the reason why my default karaoke song is Wuthering Heights.
6. Once we traipsed around San Francisco doing touristy things. I was so excited to get to show him around the city, I almost got a speeding ticket on my way up from San Jose.
7. Kurt will totally reinact this Laurie Anderson performance for my amusement if I ask him. (And Kurt, this is me asking.)
   
8. Kurt is a good companion on road trips, if only because he knows all the words to the songs on the oldies radio station.
9. I knew the two of us would be friends when I gave him a kitten as a gift in an improv in the first week of acting class and he was so excited that I thought he might shit his pants.
10. I knew we would be friends for life when I was having a mad at the world moment and decided I was going to go live in a cave. He gave me permission to go live in a cave, but only if he could live in a cardboard box outside my cave.

I can't remember what I was mad about, but I do know that there is always a spot for Kurt's carboard box wherever I may be.

"The kitchen is where we collect kitsch."

The eau de vie that quenched my thirst for acting evaporated some time while I was in college. Or, maybe I just lost my taste for it when I discovered that my talents were better focused elsewhere. Either way, I think it's important to establish: I am not an actor, nor do I want to be an actor.

Still, I somehow managed to garner a reputation as the Reigning Durang Queen of my beloved alma mater. This is because I was cast as the title character in a student production of Naomi in the Living Room (probably performed sans permissions, oops). I doubt I'll be able to live this down as long as my college cronies live dementia-free.

For those unfamiliar with this play, Naomi is absolutely batshit crazy. The scene is nightmarish and bizarre. Naomi flip flops between extreme emotions. She is cruel, vulnerable, and makes sense only to herself. Naomi is a problem, but a really, really fun problem for an actor.

After Naomi, I had obviously found my niche as an actor: larger than life, highly unstable women. I have director friends that sometimes threaten to make me reprise my short-lived acting career. They taunt me with another Durang creation, Sister Mary Ignatius because I would be "perfect for that role in 20 years." I used to work with someone that thought the world would be a better place if I could recreate the role of Joan Crawford from Mommie Dearest.

If I was at all driven to act, my knack for instability might prompt a serious "what does this say about me?" exploration. Instead, I am happy enough to say that my experience playing Naomi has given me a choice line that I have used (repeatedly) to describe myself and other colorful folks in the theater.

"I need a big couch to sit on a because I'M A BIG PERSONALITY!!!!"

Reverse Psychology: Earth Day Edition

I wanted to do something in honor of Earth Day, but I was scant on ideas. Then I had a talk with my friend Chrissy about how much she hates to share the road. Eu-fucking-reka!

Chrissy and I have been friends since the 7th grade. We have agreed that we will not always agree on everything. The problem is, we're both stubborn enough to keep arguing with each other about why we feel a certain way. Our biggest point of contention usually revolves around suburbs. I hate suburbs. Chrissy loves them. We also disagree about the environment. I think conservation is a dire necessity. Chrissy couldn't give a toss one way or the other.

I consider myself to be progressive in my social and political views. One thing I appreciate about free speech is that the people I disagree with have as much a right to be heard as I do. When people are spewing off some idea I consider verbal diarrhea, I can see it as a reminder that not everyone agrees with my well-reasoned prerogative. It adds a sustainable energy source to my fire and gives me a little more impetus to speak up and to be heard.

I've compiled some gems from Chrissy in order to stoke your flames. To be fair, Chrissy does have some redeeming qualities. I swear!


Chrissy on architecture:

C: I know you like living in all of these old buildings, but I'm only going to live in a new construction. I know you probably have a problem with that.
K: Well, it depends. I'd have to consider land use issues, but a lot of new construction has improved emissions and is generally more energy-efficient than older properties.
C: So why don't we just tear everything down and build everything new?


Chrissy on energy efficient appliances:

C: How can you live here without a dishwasher?
K: I've thought about getting a portable one. It uses less water than hand washing.
C: I don't think we're going to run out of water anytime soon.

C: I'm not going to buy something because it's energy efficient. I'm going to buy something because it's cute.
K: What if it's both cute and energy efficient?
C: Have you seen the Prius? That never happens.


Chrissy on clear cutting:

"What are you complaining about? They kept all the trees along the side of the road. Those are the ones you're going to see anyway."


Chrissy on taking only what you need:

C: Where's your cup sleeve?
K: I don't want one.
C: But you need one. Your drink is hot. Here. Take two.
K: If don't want one, why would I need two?
C: How else are we going to tell our drinks apart?


Chrissy on recycling:

C: I don't understand why you're keeping all that stuff for recycling.
K: I want to.
C: You want to what? Get five cents back? Not worth it.

"I remember when they made us recycle for Girl Scouts. I had to give my dad's license plate number to get the money. Collecting [recyclables] was a pretty tedious way to learn a 7-digit alpha-numeric code."


Chrissy on public transportation:

K: Let me get this straight. You just complained about gas prices, getting stuck in traffic every day, and paying too much money for your parking spot. But you're not willing to ride the MAX?
C: Yep.
K: It stops right in front of your office.
C: It costs too much money.
K: It's less than your parking permit.
C: But I don't have to deal with other people in my car.
K: What about traffic? That's dealing with other people.
C: Well, only weirdos ride public transit.
K: I took public transit all the time in DC and for the first two years I lived here.
C: That's because you're a weirdo.


Chrissy on sharing the road:

"One reason I'll always like San Jose or The 'Couv better than Portland is because there's way less cyclists an pedestrians. I mean, why don't these people get cars?"

C: When you used to ride your bike over it would freak everybody out. My Mom would freak out 'there's a bike in the driveway! there's a bike in our driveway!' like it was poisonous."
K: Chrissy, I only lived a few blocks away.
C: Well it's not like you were next door. It doesn't make sense that you wouldn't drive.

"The roads are too narrow, I'm going to hit one them. If I hit them while they're in an SUV, I don't have to worry so much about them being dead."

C: The only reason someone should ride a bike or walk somewhere is because something is wrong with their car.
K: What if they can't afford one?
C: That would infer that there is something wrong with their car. Not having one is definitely something wrong with their car.

Fie! It Stynks!

My apartment is most odoriferous at the moment.

My friend Chrissy and I have been watching The Complete Works of Jane Austen on Masterpiece Theatre for the past several Sundays. Usually we grab something to eat beforehand. This week I thought I'd be clever and make tea sandwiches instead. I gathered all the ingredients for those crustless treats and spent the afternoon slicing cucumbers and boiling eggs.

For some reason, it never occurred to me that hard cooked eggs might omit a smell so noxious it would put me off my appetite. Between the smell and the mustard that looked a touch too brown for safe human consumption, I was completely disgusted by the mere thought of egg salad sandwiches. When Chrissy arrived I asked if she might rather order a pizza "or something."

"Yeah. I'm hungry and it stinks too much to eat anything you just cooked."

Thanks to the longevity of our friendship, Chrissy can say things like this to me and I won't even blink an eye. I just pick up the phone to order a pizza with cheese and pineapple, extra cheese, extra pineapple, just the way she likes it.

We've put up with each other since we were eleven or twelve, even though we don't have a lot in common. Case in point, Chrissy's a BIG fan of suburbs and strip malls. I find this totally baffling. Suburbs and strip malls are highly offensive and unnatural creations. This is just the tip of our incongruent icebergs.

Chrissy considers her sense of humor to be "highly sarcastic to the point where some people are put off by it and it's not her fault that sarcasm is so beyond them." I understand that her sense of humor is actually bone dry to the point where most people think she is just saying something odd and it's not her fault that most people don't like to stand around in the mid-day desert sun staring at the blanched and brittle rib cage of a dead beast. Still, she takes great pride in her sarcasm, so I try to agree with her with as little ironic arching of the eyebrows as possible.

Truth is, I think it's funny when Chrissy says vaguely offensive things to me. For example, the week we watched the adapation of Northanger Abbey (our favorite installment thus far) we had the following exchange:

Chrissy: "Who's the lady in that picture with your sister and your nephew?"
Kim: "That's me!"
Chrissy: "Oh. Did you, like, actually brush your hair or something?"
Kim: "Yes?"
Chrissy: "Weird."

I almost went into this big explanation about how it's a JC Penney photo and no one looks normal when their pictures come from JC Penney. Or how it was in the middle of a huge DC Indian summer thunder storm so the frizz must be tamed. Or that I brushed my hair at least once a day most days of the week. Then I remembered not to take myself so damn seriously and to sit back and watch PBS, dagnamit.

Chrissy and I lit a big chai tea masala candle to cover up the egg stench while we ate our pizza and cucumber sandwiches. It was the candle that I bought her as a gift on a trip to Philadelphia a few years ago, but I forgot to mail it to her. I was glad that the orange candle in a paisley glass was finally able to bring pleasure to its intended recipient.

Today I got home and realized that my home still smells awful. In fact, boiled eggs covered up by heavily scented candle may be even worse than the original. I decide that since it already stinks to high hell, I should just add fuel to the fire and make fish for dinner. Then I lit the candle in true lather, rinse, repeat fashion.

Imagine how embarrassed I was when my nice next door neighbor came by to offer me a home-baked scone. She said that she knew I was home because she smelled my cooking. Great. It appears that the eggs-candle-fish-candle scent is capable of rousing the dead and shy neighbors. I stood at the door asking her about her car being broken into last night with a stern don't-venture-past-my-threshold stance, fearing that she might catch a whiff of the unique mixology of aromas inside. I tried to make a joke about my not so pleasant smelling dinner. My neighbor said, "I'm not asking for the recipe on this one."

I laughed because it occurred to me that I might spiff things up and invite my neighbor over for Masterpiece Theatre night. I think she and Chrissy might be fast friends.