an exercise in self-indulgence

» Monday, May 24, 2004

I will preface by saying: I do not have gonorrhea of the throat, or of the anywhere else.

And yet! My new StatCounter web tracker teaches me all sorts of wonderful things, like what search terms are being used to get here. And it turns out that, thanks to a minor misspelling, not one but TWO totally different people from different parts of the world got to Lupschada.com by searching the term "gonnorhea of the throat."

Go ahead. Google it. I am third on the list. THIRD.

It sounds worse than it is, I swear. I need to learn how to spell, or maybe be a bit less colorful with my anecdotes. But I'm very proud. I am the blog of choice for people who have throat ouchies and suspect their antics have caught up with them.

I'd like to thank my producer, the endlessly talented cast, and most of all God, without whom none of this would be possible.

Addendum: I will clarify in response to some confusion. My web stats tell me what part of the country you're in, not, like, your home address. I'll have to wait for better technology for that. Ha! Kidding!

Or am I?!

» Tuesday, May 18, 2004

Three Pertinent and Impertinent Questions by Scott, Three Long, Long Answers by Me

1. Do you like road trips? Assuming you do, where would your road trip be to and through and what and who would you include in this?

I do, I love road trips. We are a family of road-trip takers — like many Midwesterners, we think nothing of a long drive. It's par for the course if you want to get anywhere.

One of my fondest memories from childhood involves a family road trip. I was eleven — we'd just moved to New England, and it was our first trip back. We had a huge maxi-van that year. We called him Tank. He had carpeting. And curtains. There were fold-down seats in the back, bigger than my bed at home. We drove twenty-one hours straight through, and I remember the sounds of my brother breathing, able to sleep through anything, and "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" through headphones. It's a melancholy memory, though I couldn't say why.

What does it say about me that most of my favorite memories are melancholy?

Where would my roadtrip go? Who cares? As long as it involves a Hostess Cherry Pie (A. delicious tradition, B. calories don't exist on the road) and good music, I'm all set. And who? As long as you don't turn on crap music, you don't give a damn if I get lost, and don't mock my Hostess, you're all welcome. Bring sunglasses. And go to the bathroom before we leave, please.

2.According to lore, most girls apparently plan their wedding when they are, like, 10. Many of these weddings include unicorns. Did you plan your wedding already, what are these plans, and how have they changed between when you first starting thinking about it and now?

This is a tricky question. I can say right off that none of my plans have ever involved unicorns (unless you count that one Vegas heist, and I don't). But okay. I don't think I had any plans for my wedding when I was ten, except that I was damn well sure I wanted one.

Now, hmm. What you may not know, in asking this question, is that The Question has been posed to me, and there was a brief window wherein I'd not yet figured out that it was not The Path for me. So, yes, I have purchased a bridal magazine, and made some rudimentary plans, but I think it falls into a separate realm from unicorns and pink fluffy dresses and what have you, in this case. And the truth is, I never got very far. I want to wear a dress. It will be somewhere in the white family. And, like, there will be a groom.

I was leery of this question, because I think I have a couple exes who will think I am referring to them. Let's put it this way: if you know I think you're an idiot, it's not you.

3. If someone were going to write a book for you, who would you want to write it and what would you want it to be about? Would you want a movie adaptation made and, if so, who would you want to direct it?

Again, funny you should ask. My best friend from School for the Arts, Dana, actually did write a book for me. About me. But that's seriously another story. Seriously.

I don't know if this question implies the book would be about me, but that's how I read it. And that's my choice, narcissistic as it is. I'd like someone gifted to find a common thread in my life, give me a theme or a purpose. Make me a more sympathetic character. Clean up my language. Edit out some of the stupider choices.

As for who, I don't know. Dana was great, and you are too, but you're both biased. Some graceful stranger with a deep, forgiving fondness for girls like me.

God, that was long.