Dear Mr. Webster...Please add "Purgatorious" to your book of words...

I have often asserted that my life exists for you.

Yes, you...

I am as real as reality T.V. and as close as a dial on your radio...

I am at your service musically 25 hours per week...A mere seven digits and a dial tone away...

I am omnipresent online and nothing is off-limits...

This blog represents a moment in time...

I'm currently coasting through the purgatorious portion of my day...It's late...I'm off the air...It's technically Friday morning...For me it's still Thursday night...

My ex-boyfriend googled me...sent me an email (Which I posted for you below) and Liz Phair is providing the soundtrack for the remainder of my waking hours...


"Safe on the interstate
New York is three thousand miles away
And I'm not looking forward to following through
But it's better than always running back into you
I've closed my eyes and my bank account
And gone west, young man
Take off the parking brake
Go coasting into a different state
And I'm not looking forward to missing you
But I must have something better to do..."
LIZ PHAIR


Hey,
Not sure if I have emailed you before/recently, I may have while drunk. If so, and this is redundant, sorry. Just wanted to write and see how you were doing. It's been awhile, we did not part on good terms at all (a road entirely of my own paving, I know), and I guess I am curious about how you are doing. I've been in NYC three years now doing nothing overly interesting, just the usual. Freeland writing, more graduate school (in biology this time). Working half-heartedly on a novel. I googled you, so I thought I would drop you a line. I wouldn't blame you for thiking I am an awful person, or for not thinking anything of me at all. To be honest I havn't really cared what anyone thinks of me for most of my life. However, we were friends at one time, and you were one of the only people I have ever known that presented me with any kind of an intellectual challenge, so I guess I am just curious about how you are doing...and, I miss you in some way, just in general I guess...trying to think of anything else interesting about me...nothing comes to mind. Starting a doctorate next year, probably at Emory, so it's back to Atlanta for me. Although I applied to Cambridge, but I seriously doubt I have any chance of getting in. Sorry to ramble, and I am sorry for how I treated you. Write me back if you want, and let me know how you are doing...looks as though things are good for you and I am very glad!
Best,
A***

Rainbows and Kittens...

I spent most of yesterday sleeping off my travel hangover...

I woke up around 7pm because Earnest jumped on my face...

I guess somewhere in the, "How To Be An Orange Cat Handbook," there is a chapter on severe weather.

In case of storm:

Jump on Heather's face...Meow until she wakes up...Demand a treat...

If she does not comply:

Cite "Lassie Vs. Timmy..."

Argue that she could have been trapped in a well for days without your help.

I was happy to be awake when I saw this:

I didn't notice a size difference...

I mistakenly put Earnest in charge of this blog.

Allow me to tell you something about Earnest...

Earnest is what we'll call a "Freeloader."

He has little respect for the value of a dollar.

He doesn't understand the words, "Work" or "Responsibility."

Earnest spent the past 72 hours lapping Perrier in the lap of luxury:

Guess who will be forced choke down tap water for the next 72 hours...

Anyway...

Austin rocked.

I spent an evening watching a couple friends say, "I do..." then chased the joy with some live jazz on 6th street.

Headed to Austin...

Leaving on a jet plane...

Earnest is in charge until Monday...

So...I Spoke At Career Day...

Although heralded as the "Friends-To-Phone," when confronted with state capital quandaries and inquiries involving the inedible type of pie... The intellectual wizards of the 5th grade are still little kids...
I'd forgotten that the 4ft. tall members of society see the world through a spaghetti-O tainted kaleidoscope...

Little kids have interesting, "Kid-type," questions.

Such as:
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"Do you want to buy your own radio station one day?"
"Have you met Sol-ja-boi?"

Friends...

I have to admit...

The following events were occurring, in no particular order, the last time I had more than an hour of interaction with an under 18-er:

1. Sofia's goldenly girly voice was intro-ing stories with, "Picture it..."
2. I was striking a pose on each and every Cadillac...with pride. That is the Bangles way.
3. I was wearing 2 pairs of socks...different colors...slouched...with a coordinating, over-sized, cuffed t-shirt and stirrup pants...


It was the 80's...and I was a kid too.


But...


Career Day 2008 was fun...

Not because I know how to inspire the next generation with stories of risk & reward or hard work & dedication...

Because...

I used to be a kid too...

You Know You Want To...

Come on...

Jump on the bandwagon with me.

It's a magical place, replete with 10 tracks of ear-candy.

And yes...

That is a "Q," on my fingernail.

1998 Lives On...

The countdown is on!

Sex and The City...

May 30th...

17 more days...

As promo shots are being released and excitement begins to climax...

I'm happy to say that through the power of airbrushing and flattering camera angles...

It will be 1998...

FOREVER ;-)

Yes my friends,

All 8 pictures were shot recently.................................

The ones one the right are air-brushed...

God Bless America...

If you'd stepped into my mind WITHOUT a road-map...

I thought about deleting the incoherent mess-of-a-blog below...

However, I decided to let it remain.

For 48 hours my mind had the consistency of a scrambled egg drenched in Tabasco sauce. My car was broken and I'm convinced the reasoning portion of my brain was locked in the glove-box.
For 2 days I couldn't locate the answers to the most pedestrian of questions...

Carl (The car whisperer at the BP service station): "What's your phone number?"

Heather: "Um...404...no wait...402...that's Omaha right? (Nervous laughter) I'm sorry...402...68102...wait..."

I am now back to my normal level of dysfunction...

Rock on...

;-)

I Have 10,000 Spoons...

And yes, my friends, all I need is a knife.

Despite the no-smoking sign...

My car took a break...

It's like rain...

A bad radiator hose day...


If you haven't heard, my car is broken.

&

The word of the day is:

Irony.

But...

You knew that already. You're hip to the Alanis-speak.

It's too bad "Cute," isn't spelled with a "Q."

Football season is drawing near and I anticipate the explosion of red into my daily landscape.

As game days approach, all varieties of designer garb will be sentenced to live in the darkness of closets across our Husker nation. The Coach bag will be on hiatus, as the elite proudly sport their Husker handbags...

Much like Husker fans, I enjoy sporting logo.

I recently acquired this:

Yes my friends, I am all Q...All the time ;-)

Even Earnest enjoys showing his dedication to his favorite station:

I Blame Technology..

I blame technology for the high divorce rate...
In 2008, it's really easy to maintain an extra-curricular relationship.

Think about it...

1. Cell phones and text:

Before the advent of mobile communication, landlines could be monitored. Husbands/wives were forced to communicate with mistresses/pool boys via home or office lines...Which was highly inconvenient.

2. Myspace and Facebook:

Ex-lovers send each other friend requests in a lame attempt to be friends. It doesn't take a viewing of When Harry Met Sally to know this is an impossibility.

3. Email:

Discreet. Ubiquitous. Delete-able...

4. Pornography:

Everything you think you desire/Everything your partner is lacking...Just a click away...

5. Dating sites:

Displaying alternatives 24/7. When "For sicker/For poorer/For Fatter" occurs, IMHOT4MARRIEDMEN is ready to pounce.

6. Blogs

To Be Continued...

Grrrrr...Cont.

While the western world was wrestling with whether or not Hannah Montana should wear clothes...

I was busy loosing my religion...

I'm sure REM and every other iconic band betrayed by Rolling Stone was feeling the same...

I almost cried when I saw the peroxide explosion of MTV's leftovers vomitously* spewn across the cover of RS.

(Okay...I'm exaggerating...but seriously...WTF?!!)

I recognize the significance of reality TV, and have certainly been compelled to send my mind on a 50 minute vacation...

Congealing
into
a
gelatinous
lump
that
would
make
a
couch
potato
look
like
a
fitness
model....

But...

When I feel like I'm dangerously close to drowning in the collagen implants and silicone enhancements...I can pick up a RS, and cleanse myself of all parasitic tendencies...

Shame on you Rolling Stone...

For exalting what we all know is crap...



*This is not a word...Yet, it suits my purposes...

If Only Bill Cosby Hadn't Started Rapping...

This doesn't bother me:

This, however, makes me ill:

I'm too frustrated

to

t

y

p

e

.

.

.

More later...

My Appedendix Is As Useless As A Tractor In The Living Room...

I'm not sure about the existence of Santa Claus...

Unicorns are a great idea, but unlikely...

Completely monogamous relationships are impossible; pending a universal handbook outlining the exact definition of cheating...

The "Make It Pretty Gene," however, exists.

I know...

I have one...

I think it's somewhere inside my uterus.

Not because I'm a chick...

Many guys also have the, "Make It Pretty Gene."

But...

If my uterus does NOT contain my, "Make It Pretty Gene," then my uterus is as useful as my appendix...

For example:

Amidst a cyclone of other activities, I engage myself in art projects.

Most of these require very little artistic ability.

Many are designed to help disguise something necessary but unappealing...

Weekend projects:

The Thermostat Is Ugly.

The desire to put something pretty over this blemish on my wall has been haunting me for at least 10 months...

So...

I got a shadow box and slapped some cool stuff on it:

I've also been annoyed with an off-center lighting fixture on my wall...

(The "Before," picture is too heinous to post.)

The cover-up is achieved with a couple of random grates, an old mirror and a Spill Canvas poster:

Someday, my "Make It Pretty Gene" will prevail and my apt. will be perfect.

Until then...

I have paint, sandpaper, metallic glaze, gold-leaf, adhesive of all types, hooks, nails, anchors, various tools to install the hooks & nails & anchors, and an orange cat to assist in my mission.

Gavin Degraw

Gavin Degraw isn't the hottest or buff-est or sexiest artist I have ever met...But...He is the most attractive.

If you were at Muldoon's last night...you already knew that.

If you weren't there or you're not into guys...allow me to explain...

Gavin Degraw will give you the, "Flirty Eyes."

I'm sure every swooning victim, suffering from Flirty Eye-ed Syndrome, would like to believe the "Flirty-Eye-Love-You" laser was aimed only at them...

It wasn't...

Gavin gave equal portions of interest and attention to each of his fans...

If you were there...you're nodding your head...

As I type this, I'm smiling to myself...

It was a good night ;-)

The Fiance'e Formerly Known As Friend

Between April and October, I feel like I have a second job:

"Professional Wedding Guest..."

Don't be fooled friends, it's not all champagne toasts and garter Olympics...

To truly be a Professional Wedding Guest, you must accept the following:

1. You may have to sacrifice all 14 days of yearly vacation in order to maintain EOA (Equal Opportunity Attendance.)

2. You must constantly tell yourself, "Walk away from the shoes...You need that hundred bucks in your pocket as a wedding gift for the new Mr. and Mrs. Shoe-Budget-Blaster-Hoof it in last year's model-Stein..."

3. You absolutely have to be prepared to answer questions about your own relationship...or lack of one.

For example:

When someone asks, "So when is this going to be you two?!"

You look at your date contemptuously while channelling the wrath of Lorena Bobbit and say, "Ask Him."

You''ll find this puts an end to the Q&A session.

After/During the reception:

You must study up on the latest trends. If Bride-Zilla has turned into Wife-Zilla because her wedding wasn't the fairytale-princess-romp she envisioned...You, as the Professional Wedding Guest, must point her toward post-wedding-activities that will distract her from Post-Wedding-Depression.

1. Suggest personalized stamps for her thank-you-cards, featuring a wedding or Honeymoon photo.

http://www.photostamp.com/

2. Suggest she, "Trash The Dress." (A photo or video shoot centered around dress demolition.)

Think of this as Methadone. Your friend is addicted to planning. She can again select a photographer, location, date, time, and theme in which to destroy her gown. Symbolically it also marks THE END.

Tax

Things I could NOT deduct for 2007:

My plan for 2008:

What I may be doing before 6pm...

A wise person once said, "You can pick your friends. You can pick your nose. You cannot pick your friend's nose."

However...

If you have some bullet-proof, studio glass handy...it's safe:

Tax Day 2008

Once upon a time...

When I wasn't in radio...

I was working for "The Man..."

"The Man," had a file cabinet in our office:

Don't worry friends...

The benefit drawer is now brimming...

Q98.5 rocks and all that jazz...

In fact, if you scroll down to my 12-14-07 entry, you'll notice a work related expense I will attempt to deduct.

Here's a clue:

In love with a Barista ;-)

There are serious benefits to paying $4.85 for an Iced Quad Venti Non-fat Latte:

*It says,

"Heather like a feather."

1 Girl...1 Cup

I get an Iced-Quad-Venti-Non-Fat-Latte almost every day...

I especially loved the one I got today:

Haiku

Blog Frustration

I have given up...

on attempting to format..

the pictures and text.

Reason #985

Reason #985 Why I am LAME...


The following conversation occurred a few days ago:

(Bryan and I are sitting at Old Chicago downtown.)

Bryan: Would you like to go somewhere else?

Me: I kinda want to go home and see what the cats are up to!

Yes my friends...I have officially become LAME.

In my own defense, the cats are wildly interesting at times...

Chewbacca and Earnest answer the age-old question:

How many cats does it take to load the dishwasher?

Earnest is poised to attack the meter reader if he tries to give me a ticket.

Chewbacca provides an added hazard to the golf game. Sand and water are not challenging enough.

There Is A Thin Line Between Terrorist and Interior Designer...

There is a thin line between terrorist and interior designer.


As addressed earlier, Earnest is a terrorist.
















My boyfriend's cat, Chewbacca, is a sociopath with good taste.
















My boyfriend had a glass rooster. He loved his "Glass Cock."
















I thought said cock was (forgive my 80's) heinous...



I jokingly mentioned how great it would be for one of the cats to, "accidentally," break the Glass Cock.



My boyfriend assured me that if there was ever a Cat/Cock scuffle, it would not involve his cat.

"Chewbacca is trained," he said.
"Chewbacca isn't physically capable of jumping on top of the cabinet," he said.
"Chewbacca knows better," he said.



Less than 72 hours after the above conversation occurred...




Chewbacca broke the glass cock.

Number 2 is the Poop!

The second greatest blogger in the history of the world:



http://www.johnmayer.com/blog

Terrorism

Earnest will never be a successful interior designer. You will not see him on Trading Spaces, Divine Design, Colorsplash with David Bromstad, Design on a Dime or any other show based on aesthetic improvement.

Earnest will never make it as a landscaper. If Crosby, Stills or Nash needed a third cat for their yard...Earnest would be too busy making my life hard. Plus...he does not have opposable thumbs.

Earnest is a botanical terrorist.

Exhibit A

Defendant claimed he was just "Smelling the roses." I don't believe he inhaled.

Exhibit B

Suspect apprehended violating a bathroom plant.

The defendant claimed, "My relationship with said plant is both consensual and symbiotic."

I responded with, "Earnest, your vocabulary has improved! Have you been reading the dictionary between demolition projects?"

The defendant meowed, "Indubitably."

No charges will be filed...

I mentioned this on the air...

Our studio/building is being re-vamped. Last night one of the painters was telling me about his kids...I feigned interest...

He asked if I had any kids...

*I don't think I have ever been so insulted*

I made a face, "No..."

Beyond a general dislike of children, I've been asking myself why I took such offense...



I've come up with the following:

1. My job is important to me. Why would I voluntarily invite an additional priority into my life? The idea questions my commitment to radio. I'm not saying that people who breed don't care about their careers. I'm just pointing out that I don't want to have to take a day off work because I have a kid that lands in the ER...I would grow to resent their existence.

2. I'm not done with my self-improvement projects. Asking me if I have kids shines a big spotlight on goals I have yet to achieve. For example, I would like to speak fluent French and Spanish. Why would I have a kid when I'm not done perfecting myself? That's like re-doing the bathroom tile while simulaneously tearing off the roof.

3. I don't think anyone wants to think of their own mortality. Having kids means that I am no longer a kid...officially.

4. The idea of changing a diaper makes me nauseous. I have never changed a diaper. I never want to change a diaper. Thank you for having kids and changing their diapers so the task of populating the earth with kids and diapers does not fall on me...

5. Earnest:















We're not looking for a third wheel...


In the interest of time, I will spare you reasons 5-infinty.


Although...reason number 98 has to do with stretch marks...

I'd Set Up a Swingset...But I have an Art Gallery...

When I was 21, my boyfriend left me in Omaha.
After a three-day Greyhound odyssey, I was back in Virginia with a fractured heart and surprisingly fond memories of cobblestone streets and horse-drawn carriages...

The cobblestone streets and horse-drawn carriages are now my front yard...

While wandering around the yard this morning...

I found this painting:















































Local artist to check out:
Jenna Morrison

Her stuff is on display at Sirens at The Loft...

See it, Buy it, Hang it, Love all over it...