My birthday is September 10th. Mark your calendars.
I don’t really see 24 as a big deal in any way – so I’ll probably keep things low key. But there definitely are some things I would like for my birthday, which cost little to nothing.
Here is my official birthday list:
- A compliment I’ve never heard before.
- Stickers. I fucking love stickers but can’t bring myself to buy any.
- Delicious yet healthy recipes.
- Your prescription meds.
- A painting (interpretive of realist) of myself. Any media will do. A picture of me made out of porn magazines would be AWESOME:
- Now that I think about it, random vintage porn.
- Original song or poem about me.
- You could give me one of your life stories (something charming from childhood), ala Kramer selling his stories to Peterman.
- Anything with unicorns, ponies, or dire wolves.
- Mix CDs – the more random – the better.
- A love letter, declaration of passion, or general note of praise.
- Baked goods I could pretend I made myself to give to Bill.
- Children’s coloring book
- Birthday LOL captions on pictures that include me, or something I like.
- Pictures with me in them that you’ve had on your computer for months but keep forgetting to email.
- A written contract, notarized, that you will promise to name your first born after me.
I will most likely keep adding to this list as other random ideas occur to me…
Disclaimer: If you are a family member who randomly found this website, I still expect money, thanks.
And thanks in advance for all your gifting efforts.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
good morning, rhinoceros
we debated what sound a
rhinoceros would make.
you said it was something
guttural like: nerahnerah.
i thought it might be more
breathy and mellow, i
demonstrate as i squat,
something like: ptuffptuff.
turns out rhinos and
especially baby rhinos
make a sound that's more
like a strange squeak.
and while we sleep during
these early summer mornings
the geese wake us, a
cacophony of honkatonks.
we giggle in bed and
as i snuggle closer
you whisper into my hair
and it sounds like
.
rhinoceros would make.
you said it was something
guttural like: nerahnerah.
i thought it might be more
breathy and mellow, i
demonstrate as i squat,
something like: ptuffptuff.
turns out rhinos and
especially baby rhinos
make a sound that's more
like a strange squeak.
and while we sleep during
these early summer mornings
the geese wake us, a
cacophony of honkatonks.
we giggle in bed and
as i snuggle closer
you whisper into my hair
and it sounds like
.
Open letter to my first muse
A friend of mine once said
Happiness is a choice.
Her mother died, and
today with her taste for meth
she can’t keep a job.
In her spare time she
trips while watching the sun
slip behind the small ranch
house where she rents a room.
She paints the orbs of colors
she sees past the naked eye,
splashing her canvas and
scratching an itch.
At thirteen, we’d get high
in the wooden house frames
of new developments springing up
around our suburban neighborhood.
Laughing and dancing we would
cover the unfinished walls
with lines of poetry.
Those days the colors we saw
were colors enough.
Happiness is a choice.
Her mother died, and
today with her taste for meth
she can’t keep a job.
In her spare time she
trips while watching the sun
slip behind the small ranch
house where she rents a room.
She paints the orbs of colors
she sees past the naked eye,
splashing her canvas and
scratching an itch.
At thirteen, we’d get high
in the wooden house frames
of new developments springing up
around our suburban neighborhood.
Laughing and dancing we would
cover the unfinished walls
with lines of poetry.
Those days the colors we saw
were colors enough.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
The Unniversary - or -
The Greatest Parents in the World
The 8th of April marked a year from the day my first landmark relationship ended. I thought that as the anniversary of that day grew closer I might become nostalgic, melancholy, or generally emotastic. But I didn't.
Why?
Well, my life is simply far happier today than it was a year ago. I live in a city I love surrounded by great friends. I have a job that makes me smile, without stress that follows me home at the end of the day. True, my 2 bedroom, ocean view apartment is now a 1 bedroom-split; my new car is now a Charlie Ticket; and I have to get by on half the income...
But I wake up happy. I start each day on my own terms. Some mornings I have the pleasure of waking up beside a man who has forever raised the bar of what I should and can expect in a relationship.
I went home to California this past weekend to visit my greatest support system, my parents. I feel lucky to have such and open and equal relationship with both my mother and father.
Sunday morning I awoke to a breakfast feast and the LA Times Book Review waiting for me to peruse. After we finished eating and brewed a second pot of coffee, my parents revealed a delicious devil's food chocolate cake dusted in powdered sugar. On that cake was a single candle.
They understand me. More than anyone else in my life they understand how heartache can take the most unexpected turns. Tears can fall and blossom into happiness, great loves can be lost and found again.
"What should we sing?" asked my father, as he lit the solitary candle.
"I've got just the thing," said my mother, rifling through her cd's before slipping her selection into the stereo.
'One Hand in My Pocket,' by Alanis Morisette blared in the morning light that flooded the kitchen.
I'm broke but I'm happy
I'm green but I'm wise...
"We should dance!" she said.
And so my father took my mother's hand and I lifted Dashiell up into my arms (it had been a disappointment for him, too).
And what it all comes down to
is I haven't got it all figured out just yet...
There we were, three crazy Saldivars on Easter morning - dancing, singing, laughing, crying and eating a big slice of chocolate cake for breakfast.
It doesn't get much better than that.
Why?
Well, my life is simply far happier today than it was a year ago. I live in a city I love surrounded by great friends. I have a job that makes me smile, without stress that follows me home at the end of the day. True, my 2 bedroom, ocean view apartment is now a 1 bedroom-split; my new car is now a Charlie Ticket; and I have to get by on half the income...
But I wake up happy. I start each day on my own terms. Some mornings I have the pleasure of waking up beside a man who has forever raised the bar of what I should and can expect in a relationship.
I went home to California this past weekend to visit my greatest support system, my parents. I feel lucky to have such and open and equal relationship with both my mother and father.
Sunday morning I awoke to a breakfast feast and the LA Times Book Review waiting for me to peruse. After we finished eating and brewed a second pot of coffee, my parents revealed a delicious devil's food chocolate cake dusted in powdered sugar. On that cake was a single candle.
They understand me. More than anyone else in my life they understand how heartache can take the most unexpected turns. Tears can fall and blossom into happiness, great loves can be lost and found again.
"What should we sing?" asked my father, as he lit the solitary candle.
"I've got just the thing," said my mother, rifling through her cd's before slipping her selection into the stereo.
'One Hand in My Pocket,' by Alanis Morisette blared in the morning light that flooded the kitchen.
I'm broke but I'm happy
I'm green but I'm wise...
"We should dance!" she said.
And so my father took my mother's hand and I lifted Dashiell up into my arms (it had been a disappointment for him, too).
And what it all comes down tois I haven't got it all figured out just yet...
There we were, three crazy Saldivars on Easter morning - dancing, singing, laughing, crying and eating a big slice of chocolate cake for breakfast.
It doesn't get much better than that.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Have You Seen Her Wazoos!?
2007 marks the 100th anniversary since the invention of the brassiere and it seems quite apropos that this year Black Eyed Peas took home a Grammy for “My Humps.” The other day I came across a fun article, “In Loving Mammary: Tracking 100 years of breast obsession” by Susan Seligson takes a look back on always captivating Lady Lumps.
I thought it would be a fun lil’ post to highlight the most amusing facts of her article – and also to add in fun facts about the history of my own Bouncing Betties:
1907 – The first undergarment resembling the brassiere is invented in France. “It is an alternative to the rib-crushing, vital-organ-squishing corset” lifting the sweater kittens without the use of busks or whalebone.
1914 – The first all-purpose bra patent is secured by Mary Phelps Jacob, who while dressing for a dance decided to abandon her corset and instead had her maid “fit her with two handkerchiefs and a ribbon.”
1925 – Seamstress, Ida Rosenthal, starts designing dresses with breast supports – her design is so wildly popular that requests start coming in to buy the undergarment separate from the dress. And so the trademark Maiden Form is born.
1938 – Du Pont discovers nylon, by 1945 it is widely used with bra manufactures, “retailers had to warn women to extinguish their cigarettes before shopping – one stray ash could burn holes in the newfangled brassieres.”
1951 – The padded bra goes high-tech, a 1951 ad features an inflatable bra which boasts it’s point design “makes all other ways to a lovely natural bustline old-fashioned.”
1953 – Marilyn Monroe graces the first Playboy cover.
1965 - "Fabulous Mark Eden Bust Developer" device promises women a better bustline.
1983 – The first Hooters opens in Clearwater, Florida. Man’s love for the hot wing sky rockets.
1994 – Wonderbra makes its US debut!
1995 – Saldy is in the 6th grade and mourns over her flatness in comparison to the other girls in the locker room. She feels especially inadequate after being Gina Hoskins (prettiest girl in school’s) shower buddy at Outdoor Camp.
1997 – Suddenly – out of seemingly fated AA cups, Saldy basically wakes up one morning with C’s! She is overjoyed and instantly starts testing the prowess of her newfound cleavage by leaning over the desk to ask cute boys homework questions.
1998 – Random boy, Jared Castleton, is the first to get a glimpse of Saldy’s headlights.
2000 – Saldy’s coconuts are christened with their first nick names, Regina & Lola.
2002 – Saldy visits New Orleans, 138 strands of beads are collected over her stay.
2004 – Janet Jackson’s infamous “wardrobe malfunction” tit-slip during her Superbowl half-time show with Justin Timberlake.
2005 – Exotic dancer, Maxi Mounds, captures the Guinness World Record for world’s largest augmented breasts at size 156MMM! Ms. Mounds boasts, “that if each one was a Thanksgiving turkey, it could feed twelve adults.
2007 – Salds is still turning heads!
Feel free to comment about your own favorite Saldy’s Boobs memory or one of your own breast tales! :P
Sunday, February 11, 2007
What’s Cookin’ Good Lookin’
The other day my loving boyfriend told me I was beautiful. I’d like to believe this to be true, but in the moment, I can’t help but feel that my being topless had something to do with it. The thing is, when someone tells me I’m 'sexy' or 'cute,' I am far more likely to believe it. Perhaps because I believe attitude has a lot to do with achieving those less-perfect labels. But beautiful, that’s a whole other story.
Today I came across an interesting article in the Atlantic Monthly, The Truth About Beauty, by Virginia Postrel. The article focuses on Dove’s “Campaign for Real Beauty,” that asserts, “Every girl deserves to feel beautiful just the way she is,” made popular through Dove’s viral video, Evolution:
It would be pretty to think so, but pretty everyone is not.
Postrel’s main argument squashes the idea behind the Dove campaign, countering that “Beauty is not just a social construct, and not every girl is beautiful just the way she is.” This reminds me of one of my favorite Mom-isms. When I was in middle school, I was an awkward and geeky girl, if you don’t believe me, then check out this picture:
One day I came home from school feeling especially unattractive after catching a note that a couple of boys were passing around with my face drawn on a horse’s head. Once home, I turned to my mother, crying, and asked her why I couldn’t be pretty like other girls. She said to me, “Erika, these are your Ugly Years… this is the ugliest you are ever going to be.” I responded by bursting into tears. My mother has never been one to sugarcoat anything, but the funny thing is, she was absolutely right. Nobody cared about my shimmering personality – hell, even I didn’t care about my personality. And little girls across the country looking in the mirror right now don’t give a damn either.
Postrel continues to explain that, “beauty exists, and it’s unevenly distributed.” She sites the numerous studies on how our eyes and brains consistently like some human forms rather than others. So what about this whole lovey Dove-y idea that “real women” are beautiful, too? At the end of the day it’s advertising. “Even the most zaftig had relatively flat stomachs and clearly defined waists… Dove diversified the portrait of beauty without abandoning the concept altogether.” Dove doesn't want to improve my self-esteem, they want me to buy some firming body wash.
So what’s my point, then? What am I rambling about? Why am I eating chocolates and sipping wine as I write this blog?
I know I'm no beauty queen but damn, it's nice to have a boy whisper sweet things in your ear. Crazy thing is, I think he just might mean it, and if so, well, I guess I'm saying that's good enough for me.
Today I came across an interesting article in the Atlantic Monthly, The Truth About Beauty, by Virginia Postrel. The article focuses on Dove’s “Campaign for Real Beauty,” that asserts, “Every girl deserves to feel beautiful just the way she is,” made popular through Dove’s viral video, Evolution:
It would be pretty to think so, but pretty everyone is not.
Postrel’s main argument squashes the idea behind the Dove campaign, countering that “Beauty is not just a social construct, and not every girl is beautiful just the way she is.” This reminds me of one of my favorite Mom-isms. When I was in middle school, I was an awkward and geeky girl, if you don’t believe me, then check out this picture:
One day I came home from school feeling especially unattractive after catching a note that a couple of boys were passing around with my face drawn on a horse’s head. Once home, I turned to my mother, crying, and asked her why I couldn’t be pretty like other girls. She said to me, “Erika, these are your Ugly Years… this is the ugliest you are ever going to be.” I responded by bursting into tears. My mother has never been one to sugarcoat anything, but the funny thing is, she was absolutely right. Nobody cared about my shimmering personality – hell, even I didn’t care about my personality. And little girls across the country looking in the mirror right now don’t give a damn either.
Postrel continues to explain that, “beauty exists, and it’s unevenly distributed.” She sites the numerous studies on how our eyes and brains consistently like some human forms rather than others. So what about this whole lovey Dove-y idea that “real women” are beautiful, too? At the end of the day it’s advertising. “Even the most zaftig had relatively flat stomachs and clearly defined waists… Dove diversified the portrait of beauty without abandoning the concept altogether.” Dove doesn't want to improve my self-esteem, they want me to buy some firming body wash.
So what’s my point, then? What am I rambling about? Why am I eating chocolates and sipping wine as I write this blog?
I know I'm no beauty queen but damn, it's nice to have a boy whisper sweet things in your ear. Crazy thing is, I think he just might mean it, and if so, well, I guess I'm saying that's good enough for me.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
POLITICALWIRE.COM - The Perez Hilton of Politics
With the 2008 race to the White House in full swing and with the international integrity of this nation at stake, now more than ever is the time to pay attention to politics. I’m making it my business to stay informed.
Now people have asked me where did I get that link to the fact sheet for the 2007 State of the Union Address?
How did I know that Minnesota Senator Norm Coleman (R), was nearly knocked unconscious while dumpster diving?
Or that President Bush just hired a new executive pastry chef, who, quite apropos, is also the author of Desserts for Dummies?
There’s only one place, folks:
TAEGAN GODDARD’S POLITICAL WIRE – politcalwire.com
Before Political Wire, I was forced to sit through the pathetic dating stories of my ex-boyfriend (working in DC) just so I could get the latest gossip scoop from The Hill. Now with PW, I can scan the most important developing political stories before finishing my morning bagel.
Why Choose Political Wire:
- Non-partisan state and national news coverage
- Latest polls comparing the potential 2008 presidential match-ups
- Random factoids that make you the envy of the water cooler
- Quote of the Day and Bizarre Injury of the Day
- Nice, clean web layout with nondescript ads for easy browsing
Is there anything not to like?
As far as keeping a finger on the political pulse, not really, but I do have one humble suggestion. I think along with a Quote of the Day, it would be good fun to have a Political Photo of the Day – whether the subject matter is amusing, shocking, or historical in importance. I’m not asking for snarky Microsoft Paint commentary, just an insightful little tagline.
As the 2008 White House race continues to heat up, make Taegan Goddard part of your morning internet browsing routine. There’s nothing wrong with ogling the latest pictures of Britney Spears stuffing her face with fast food, but balancing your news diet couldn’t be easier with Political Wire.
My belief in God may be shaky, but for the latest political buzz,
in Goddard I trust.
Now people have asked me where did I get that link to the fact sheet for the 2007 State of the Union Address?
How did I know that Minnesota Senator Norm Coleman (R), was nearly knocked unconscious while dumpster diving?
Or that President Bush just hired a new executive pastry chef, who, quite apropos, is also the author of Desserts for Dummies?
There’s only one place, folks:
TAEGAN GODDARD’S POLITICAL WIRE – politcalwire.com
Before Political Wire, I was forced to sit through the pathetic dating stories of my ex-boyfriend (working in DC) just so I could get the latest gossip scoop from The Hill. Now with PW, I can scan the most important developing political stories before finishing my morning bagel.
Why Choose Political Wire:
- Non-partisan state and national news coverage
- Latest polls comparing the potential 2008 presidential match-ups
- Random factoids that make you the envy of the water cooler
- Quote of the Day and Bizarre Injury of the Day
- Nice, clean web layout with nondescript ads for easy browsing
Is there anything not to like?
As far as keeping a finger on the political pulse, not really, but I do have one humble suggestion. I think along with a Quote of the Day, it would be good fun to have a Political Photo of the Day – whether the subject matter is amusing, shocking, or historical in importance. I’m not asking for snarky Microsoft Paint commentary, just an insightful little tagline.
As the 2008 White House race continues to heat up, make Taegan Goddard part of your morning internet browsing routine. There’s nothing wrong with ogling the latest pictures of Britney Spears stuffing her face with fast food, but balancing your news diet couldn’t be easier with Political Wire.
My belief in God may be shaky, but for the latest political buzz,
in Goddard I trust.
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