Inanimate objects have their needs too.

New trip idea...but not really.

A while back I posted a trip idea for the Trans-Siberian/Manchurian Express. The excursion was inspired by a night with Henry Rollins I had back in 2005 at his spoken word show. Mr. Rollins, being the articulate raconteur that he is, enticed me into possibly doing the same journey. His descriptions of surly babushkas, mystery meat, in climate weather and Genghis khan/nomad-type characters ignited the travel bug that had mysteriously dwindled over the past months. Shortly after, an intense inter web search was on, and I completely tuned out of my job. Not like anyone noticed; master control is sort of lenient like that.

After a not so long search, I came up with some mildly irritating discoveries with all points towards mother Russia:

1. You need to be officially invited in.

2. You have FOUR NIGHTS valid on your transit visa, which allows for one or two nights in Moscow, an overnight train and two or one night(s) in St. Petersburg respectively, but you must be across the border before midnight on the final day of your visa. Basically, you need to be the hell out of there or you can expect a mighty huge fine.

It adds that you're better off booking your trip with a tour company or the like based on the fact that if your ass doesn't speak the Ruskie you might end up in Chechnya. And the tour company will at least procure your visas and arrange everything for you. And to be honest, I'm not all that interested in war zones. Even though I know you pegged me as that kind of gal; I will have to disapoint on this one.

Things I miss about Minneapolis.

1. My family.
2. Autumn
3. My lovely and brilliant friends.
4. Spyhouse
5. Pizza Luce
6. Hard Times
7. South Minneapolis
8. brownstone buildings
9. foxfire...which I know hasn't been around in ages, but I was thinking about it the other day.
10. making movies with friends

There's always more to add, but at this moment I was missing those.

Bye!!

I'm taking off to the Southern hemisphere, hope everyone is well! I will most definitely post some pictures when I get back.


(And the um, space dogs one too)

Space puppies?!

My friend and I are total, ridiculous nerds. We don't deny it. Reveling in nerdery is an activity I partake in daily. Another activity that I make great attempts at is attending as many museums as humanly possible. Her and I are in the process of creating a list of all the Los Angeles area museums that require our presence. One in particular that I found interesting (to say the least) is the Museum of Jurassic Technology.

Mmmm...

She sent me an email mentioning "space dogs", and that we should be a part of the phenomena.

After much slacking, we finally explored this building of intrigue. There will be a post arriving in the next few days documenting Space dogs, Trailer disasters, and some other oddities.

When trekking in Nepal...

Don't forget to bury your turds after you're finished!

Sleeping with Elvis...

booked and well shooked.

I know, I know, I just wanted something to rhyme.

Anyways...

everything we required for the Great South American adventure is booked. Hurray!

There are some minor details to get arranged, but all the main day trips and the like are taken care of. We had to book hostels for visa purposes, which can be quite a headache. But rest assured, they are taken care of.

I apologize for sucking it at posting entries, but with interning and working seven days a week I haven't had much time. Well, I guess I don't know if people even read this, but if you're one of the five that spend a few moments reading, I salute you.

Faithful readers, I will write more to satiate your souls. Or, fill a couple minutes for you before work beckons.

die Freiheit!

He demands his freedom, fresh water, chew sticks, and sunflower seeds.

Preferably in that order.

Thanks.

My arm tastes like burning

I am vaccinated against yellow fever. Friday morning was reserved for appointment; the night prior anxiety was seeping into my chest. I had heard many horror stories about the pain and the burn that the vaccination brings.

Honestly, the amount of anxiety I had was clearly not worth it. (I am not scared of needles, it is purely situational) I dictated what arm to put it in, then he inserted the needle, and a quick 2 seconds later, it was out. He had me sit there for 10 minutes to make sure there wasn't any bad reactions. All was fine.

Over the last decade I have heard horror stories about Yellow Fever shots, mostly that they had the most pain or burning when the vaccine was injected. I was more nervous for that reason alone. Imagine my shock and glee when I was sweating profusely while he was administering the shot and it lasted 2 seconds. Albeit I don't have anything to compare it to; I haven't had a shot in years. The last vaccination I had was in 1999, and that was with a gun.

The best part about it was it ended up being covered by my insurance...yea!

Evo Morales doesn't like Gingos*

Yours truly finally booked her tickets to Peru and Bolivia!!

I will be spending two weeks-ish in the Southern hemisphere; most of that will be in Peru. I am super excited to go to Machu Picchu and Lake Titicaca. I will be sure to check the toilets to see if the water goes down the other way. (Oddly, there has been requests)

Admittedly, the high altitude is a little intimidating, but I hear that chewing coca leaves and staying hydrated eases that well. I also have to get a visa, which means that your pal Laurenation is going to be getting a Yellow fever vaccination. She isn't too thrilled about it, but if that means she can go to Bolivia I guess that's ok. (talking about vaccinations apparently results in third person monologue) The unfortunate thing is currently there is a world wide shortage of Yellow fever shots so she isn't exactly inexpensive. One positive is that I will be immunized for ten years; so if that trip to Africa or Brasil is in the horizon that's one less shot.

*This gringo is actually just bitter about spending her pennies on a shot that could be used in Bolivia.

My lil' Sea Monkey

A few weeks past I met up with a friend at a bar near her home. It was the grand re-opening; after having to move from the other location they finally opened their doors. Albeit, another strip mall locale it was more a lounge than the dirty dive bar in my memory. Why a strip mall, I don't know. Southern California boggles me in ways that I am still trying to understand.
Before I stray on tangents, the bartender is the real reason why people come here. Er, at least why I love to go. His name is Stu, and he lives on a boat in a harbor 'cause he loves to "live near the fishies. " He also pours a stiff drink to those who imbibe, and he is a tad bit of a flirt. (That night in particular he was wearing a Popeye shirt- how very appropriate.)
When we arrived, we had some great verbal exchanges, some which include me looking fragile (I attribute that to my scarf, winter coat and wool hat that was adorning my body) and slightly boyish. Always the polite conversationalist, I listen to his ramblings of when he used to chase blond women but back then his hair was jet black. I am side tracked by his beautiful handle-bar moustache, which is beyond perfection. If it were possible, there would be one on my upper lip, complete with fringes that grace my lips.
Eventually, the night came to a close, with us heading out the door. A raspy demand echoed from the bar. I sauntered over to Stu, who methodically leans in to inform me:

"When you go home tonight, you think thoughts of dirty old men, because one fell in love with you tonight. "

Who's comin' with me?!

The neighborhood cat!!!

I'm sure you have heard my rantings about the neighbor's cat that is inclined to leave me presents.


Well, he also enjoys when I let him come in and pretend he's my cat for short periods of time, and generally I am ok with that. He's a good part time cat; I have been calling him Maurice, even though I caught his owner calling him Smuckers.

Smuckers?!


Anyways, she tends to leave him outside for extended hours, and it's normally when she is out and about. I generally find him tomcatting around with the other feral cats, even though I always held a higher opinion of Maurice.

Even though he did maroon his decapitated birds on my door way...


I still think he's pretty okay.

Genius!

Caught this in a parking lot in Simi Valley.

Weather I don't miss...

My mom sent this the other day while I was out savoring the 70 degree afternoon.

The best Selina Kyle to grace the screen?

Adrienne Barbeau voicing Selina Kyle in Batman: The Animated Series .

The buns are watching...

I volunteer a few days a week at the SPCALA where these rabbits reside until someone adopts them.

Saber Tooth cats covered in tar look like Wooly Mammoths

Ever since I have laid eyes on the Rancho La Brea Tar Pits, I knew what I needed to do: volunteer in the lab separating, labeling and possibly cleaning fossils. I first came upon them in 2002, when I first visited Los Angeles to hang out with my sister that lived in her environs. I didn't go in to the Page Museum until 2004; but my eyes widened to a frightening bulge once I noticed what was beyond the garish displays of Ice age alumni: an all-volunteer group cleaning and sorting the fossils that have been collected since 1914. Musing at what would be quite tedious, I kept my speculations tucked in to the tune of maybe being one of the white coated wonders.

Fast forward to 2007:

I took a peek at the volunteer requirements, and I am not sure my desire will be fulfilled. Eight hours a week?! Even though I did read that if you volunteer over 96 hours, you can help excavate Pit 91! It only happens in the summer time for two months, and watching them dig I can't help but feel anxious. I admit to my feverish love of tedious activities; digging around for Pleistocene has beens sounds like an excellent way to spend my afternoons.

Not so Farsi away....

I couldn't resist, even though it's in French...

I bought tickets for a screening of Persepolis that includes a Q&A with Marjane Satrapi and Vincent Paronnaud. I have been a long time fan of the graphic novels, so here's hoping it will be a great interpretation. I caught an interview with Marjane Satrapi that mentioned she had complete creative control. (yea!) Although my one qualm so far is the subtitles. In the previews they are white, blending in a bit too well. It'll make for an interesting experience, that's for certain.