Gsteiger's Gspace

Resurrected Once Again!

2007-05-21T10:42:00.000-05:00

Okay, so um, it's been a while...lots to tell, lots to tell. It's funny, every now and then I would think of topics to blog about, but then laziness would be the victor. Plus, my password got screwed up in this whole Blogger-Google unholy marriage.

But I'm back!

First of all, Prague and Vienna were both absolutely lovely, and I had a great time raising a ruckus in Europe with my friends. I'm probably just a bit biased in favor of Vienna, given that I can get around fairly well in German. I really miss the European way of life, though...eating pastries, looking at beautiful architecture every time I stepped outside, walking through the locations where major world historical events took place, navigating subway systems in a foreign language. I miss all the adventure and exploration, and since it's unlikely that I'll emigrate, I guess I'll have to go back as soon as possible.

Except now Matt and I are fucking broke. Meh.

I just got through a really nasty period at work where I was working constant overtime and battling ridiculous deadlines, and now there's a lull. I know it won't last, but I'm enjoying it to its fullest, using office time to do things like update my stupid blog, which is covered in cobwebs at this point. I mean, no new posts in nearly three months! Ridiculous!

The good news is that Happy Insomniac will very soon be updated! I'm going to be working with some NEW AUTHORS and am basically just waiting to receive some releases to update the site. Very exciting...plus, I've not quite been resting on my non-laurels at home. I'm still working on a large haiku project, and if that never goes anywhere, well, at least I'll have a shitload of haikus for the site. I've also been venturing into the world of...gasp!...POETRY, the results of which you'll see shortly. As always, I will promise to update more regularly, but I'm still on the "update when I feel like it" editorial schedule.

Meanwhile, you can read some of my haikus in the new issue of Ladyfriend, specifically Ladyfriend #10. I presume that you can pick up YOUR VERY OWN COPY at Quimby's Bookstore or by ordering it through the site. Unfortunately, it seems like this will be the last issue of Ladyfriend for a while, which makes me very sad, as I had actually found a publication that would print my shit!

More to come...no, really, I promise!

--karen

This is why I've been such a bad blogger lately...

2007-03-12T10:16:00.000-05:00

This dog is needy, time-consuming, and sometimes rambunctious and naughty, but I love her so freaking much, I can't even convey! I can't recommend greyhounds highly enough. They are little thieves, but they are very calm and quiet (for the most part). No matter how shitty someone has treated them in their racing careers, they're only looking for some love. They will really attach themselves to you, and you'll find yourself attached to them, to the point where the idea of boarding them in a kennel for a week during your fabulous European vacation is HEARTBREAKING.

If I had room for 10 of them, I'd adopt 12, I swear. Love, love, love these dogs. I spent this past weekend taking Cleo to her training class (where she's successful if she feels like following whatever commands I happen to be issuing), taking her to a dog park to really run, and then yesterday, completing my transformation into yuppie parent by taking her to a greyhound playgroup for an hour.

So that's that, and anyone who has talked to me recently knows how freaking obsessed I am, etc. etc.

Meanwhile, my inbox at work is piled ridiculously high, and I shouldn't even be taking the time to write this post, but such is my committment to ART! I'm still working on my longer haiku project, but I really need to get some new articles and stories posted on Happy Insomniac. Same old story there.

The house is a freaking disaster zone. The EPA is going to have to step in, I just know it! I thought we'd be neater with the dog out of necessity, but she's a mess too, so we're just one big happy family of slobs in Schaumburg.

In 12 days, Matt and I will be going to Prague to visit Lovely Jaime, along with Super-Genius Laura, her Patient Husband, Shawn, and Soon-to-be Rock Icon, Bryan. A side trip to Vienna is planned, and we're all going to dork out at a Nine Inch Nails concert while we're there. (um, don't ask.) I am utterly thrilled and will be even more so if I knew where exactly in our cluttered basement our passports are...

--karen

Busy, busy, busy...

2007-02-12T09:35:00.000-06:00

Dudes! Our dog is coming NEXT SATURDAY, and my mom's 70th birthday is NEXT SUNDAY, and she's staying the weekend, and our house is FILTHY. Help!

I suppose I could have blogged about the Chicago Bears in the Superbowl, but really, there was nothing good to say about it, and I was plagued with food poisoning almost immediately after.

I'm hoping to get some movie reviews up soon on Happy Insomniac, which I've been neglecting lately. Also, I'm working on a big haiku project, which I'd like to get published in some form or another (even if it has to be self-published), so stay tuned for that!

This blog post doesn't so much have a "point," per se, but I thought I'd check in before tackling this huge pile of work on my desk.

More to come!

--karen

A new addition to the family...

2007-01-30T10:14:00.000-06:00

Well, it's been really busy over here, and by "really busy" I mean, falling asleep at 8 p.m. My URLS are becoming more of a misnomer each and every day.

BUT...Matt and I have managed to take care of one of our New Year's resolutions, which was to adopt a retired racing greyhound! Her name is Cleo, and she is a 65-pound brindle female. We found her through Greyhounds Only, a rescue group that has been really helpful and well-organized, and I have only good things to say about them at this point. She interacted with both Matt and me right away, despite all the distractions of the kennel she was at, and she has a very calm disposition and is good on a leash. Today she's going to the vet to be spayed and to have her check-up and shots and all that good stuff. Then she's going to recover at the kennel for a few days. Part of GO's adoption process is to have the dogs fostered for a week or so after their vet trip to get them used to being in a home, with all kinds of new and crazy things they've never seen before, like stairs and TVs and vacuums. So Cleo will most likely be coming home on February 17th. Which is fine because our house is a wreck and we don't have any doggie supplies at the moment.

I can't even believe I'm doing this because I look SO HORRENDOUS in this picture, but I'm so proud of Cleo that I have to paste in our first photo together. My vanity demands that I point out that my winter coat is really puffy, and I'm not as fat as I appear in the pic above. Also, my hair doesn't normally look so bad, but they had us in and out of the cold and snow a few times before we made our final decision. Oh, who am I kidding? My hair *does* normally look that bad.

Anyhoo, Matt and I are both THRILLED that we're finally getting our dog, and I'm sure you'll be getting more overly anthropomorphized blog entries in the near future!

In the meantime, if I don't get some actual work done now, I am SCREWED.

--karen

Why the hell am I awake at 4:30 in the morning?

2007-01-20T04:33:00.000-06:00

Oh yeah, because I was having a headache day today and spent much of Friday asleep. Oh well, at least a migraine was successfully avoided.

Artificially induced estrogen withdrawal...it's not always pretty.

I purposely stayed close to home tonight because I most often seem to develop migraines when I have to be in some sort of moving vehicle. And really, the worst part of a migraine for me isn't so much that feeling that someone has stabbed an ice pick into your frontal lobe, but the accompanying nausea. And barfing only makes your head hurt more.

The worst migraine I've ever had was in Italy, actually. We had spent a wonderful day in Pompeii, but my dumb ass was out in the sun all day long without a hat. So all that time frying my scalp resulted in my getting a headache when I had no access to any kind of painkiller. And I had like a four-hour train ride ahead of me. The headache just grew and grew and grew, and the train ride was endless and nausea-inducing, and I had some time to ponder, should I make a run to the bathroom or just barf in this bag I have conveniently in front of me? Fortunately I was able to make it to the tiny bathroom on the train to revisit my previously delightful gelato, but I suffered until I could get back to our hotel room with all the lights off and a cold rag on my head. And here I just want to extend kudos to Nick Hawkins, who helped me cross a busy street in Rome, when I couldn't even think straight and could barely walk.

If I had to live with constant migraine pain, I'd be looking into euthanasia. Seriously. My poor sister-in-law has these incapacitating migraines that will land her in the hospital for weeks. I think she's been able to keep those under control lately, thank GOD. Compared to her, I am a whining amateur. Because if Excedrin Migraine cures your ills, you have what she calls "a soccer mom migraine." (I'm a devotee of Tylenol Rapid Release, myself.) But you don't ever want to be a member of her club, trust me.

Here's to happier craniums for everyone in 2007!

--karen

I had the SUPERLATIVE pop culture dream last night...

2007-01-17T11:59:00.000-06:00

I dreamt that I was reading an essay by Chuck Klosterman (no, seriously), and he was writing about how Project Runway's Tim Gunn was serving as a style advisor to the Crocodile Hunter. Klosterman referred to Tim Gunn in his essay as "the Frank Lloyd Wright of buttons" and mentioned how Tim Gunn was irritated with the Crocodile Hunter for his fashion sins.

I also dreamt that I was in a huge pet shop with all kinds of exotic animals, including monkeys and foxes. I kept pissing off the monkeys, somehow, who all bared their teeth at me, and I bared my teeth in return. The monkeys went...uh, apeshit every time I glanced in their direction.

When I woke up, I asked Matt, "Does this mean that I would be a bad pet owner?"
Matt replied, "It means that you would be a bad monkey owner."

--karen

Happy Insomniac update!!!

2007-01-11T01:26:00.000-06:00

See, I told you guys!

I've got two movie reviews for you this time:

"Karen Discovers That There Is No David Bowie to Be Found in Pan's Labyrinth"
and
"And Karen Is Telling You...What She Thought of Dreamgirls."

Also, I dug through my archives to find an old short story, which I hope you enjoy, but I always worry that I'm the only one who finds this funny:

"Sincerely, Karen Killer"

Happy reading, everyone!

--karen

P.S. Not to get all Bridget Jones on everyone, but if you swim for an hour and then come home and eat a bunch of pretzels and chocolate, does that cancel out all your hard work? Yeah, I thought so.

Real quick...

2007-01-10T15:42:00.000-06:00

because I do expect an actual Happy Insomniac update imminently...

The one and ONLY thing I miss about my recent days of despair is that my metabolism used to be totally jacked up. After one particular crisis moment, I lost 5 pounds in a week. I could eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted--and in fact, my wonderful friends were so concerned about me, they'd feed me lasagna and bowls of ice cream--and I'd keep losing weight or, in times of simply moderate misery, not gain an ounce.

Now I can tell you all exactly how much happiness weighs: 8 pounds.

Now I'm trying to get back in shape, to be leaner and more toned, to promote my mental health through exercise and eating right, blah, blah, blah. What it means is trekking to the gym when I'd rather veg out on the couch and eating more Healthy Choice than Adam Sandler in Punch Drunk Love.

But you know what rocks? Worrying about a few vanity pounds instead of heartbreak and loss.

Okay, work and carrot sticks are calling my name presently.

--karen

So recent personal problems and a DVR box...

2007-01-04T10:29:00.000-06:00

have led to me rediscovering the simple joys of television. Particularly, the ridiculously melodramatic competition/reality show. I like to spend some quality time with Bravo on Wednesday nights for Project Runway and, now, Top Chef. I think that what I like about both shows are the nature of the challenges the contestants have to deal with and what they eventually come up with. As my friend Padraig noted about Project Runway, it nicely depicts the creative process with a short-term project that often features various restrictions, obstacles and last-minute twists.

And sure, the trashy drama doesn't hurt. But Top Chef has just become disturbing as of late. One of the chefs, Marcel Vigneron, he of the awkward social demeanor and baffling hairstyle, has become the scapegoat of nearly all the remaining contestants. Unless some manipulative editing is at play, he seems to be subject to constant bullying and adolescent social politics. The others are frequently talking behind his back, often within earshot of him, confronting him, taunting him, isolating him, blaming him, trying to make him look bad in front of diners and judges...it's bizarre behavior in a group of adults and profoundly unsettling. Almost no one, with the exception of Elia, is stepping in to stand up for the guy, and even Elia is not being terribly vocal in her support. It really takes me back to junior high...blech.

Granted, the guy isn't completely innocent. He's said some arrogant things and just seems to rub people the wrong way. But the treatment he's getting is so out of proportion to anything the audience has seen him do. It's mystifying.

I'm not entirely sure why I'm blogging about this, but Marcel just reminds me so strongly of the first guy I really fell in love with. Even kind of looks like him too. And that guy tended to get shit from "the cool kids," which always really bothered me. It just makes me wish I had been cast on this show just to tell the tyrannical clique to shut the fuck up.

Oh, yeah, and the Democrats are taking over today. With a female House speaker! Thank God! I'm not entirely sure how much they're going to be able to get done with Dubya still in office to generally fuck up the world, but it's a good day.

--karen

Today's dose of Schadenfreude...

2007-01-03T09:34:00.000-06:00

So apparently, Macy's hasn't set Chicago's retail world on fire. Mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

As you may know, Macy's bought and changed the name of Chicago's historic Marshall Field's stores and generally downgraded the quality of the merchandise to craptastic. The latter point I gather from hearsay, as I have successfully boycotted Macy's since the name change. Oh, it pained me--it pained me!--to not have Marshall Field's as my classy one-stop Christmas shopping destination and to avert my eyes from all the Frangos, but principles are principles. Granted, I'm not engaged in a particularly important struggle, in the grand scheme of things, but I do think a corporation should be punished for tarnishing beloved childhood memories and all that.

In my heart of hearts, I hold out hope that Field's will one day be resurrected, but I doubt it. So much of that whole State Street area that was so exciting and delightful to me when I was younger is gone, replaced by gazillion dollar condos. That's all that ever seems to get built in this city anymore. What I always wonder is, a) How many people are there out there who can buy $700,000 one-bedroom condos? b) At what point are there more $700,000 one-bedroom condos available than anyone could possibly afford to buy? I just envision an empty ghost city filled with unoccupied $700,000 one-bedroom condos, layers of dust covering the immaculate white drywall and bamboo hardwood floors.

--karen

Happy New Year!!!

2007-01-01T19:57:00.002-06:00

Hi everyone!

Well, of course, the month of December just tends to fly by in the self-induced frenzy of the holidays. I managed to get all the Christmas shopping done, decorate our first REAL Christmas tree (7 feet tall!) in our new home, and host the Steigers' annual Christmas festivities (with an omnipresent sinus headache). Then I had a week off from work, during which I had hoped to get the kitchen painted but during which I mostly spent lying on the couch, watching TV. I will say that I've finally seen the inside of my gym lately, though, which is a step in the right direction. Then a joking suggestion to go to Medieval Times for our New Year's celebration turned into the Most Dorked Out New Year's Ever, but we had a wonderful time with my good friends, Laura and Padraig. Wacky fun with board games at like 3 in the morning, and then a nice brunch today during which my nutrition goals were...um...postponed. It was "Breakfast with Trent" this morning, as my friend Laura was kind enough to burn the NIN concert documentary "Closure" to DVD for me, so while I enjoyed scones and mini egg frittatas and Sam's blueberry baked French toast, I got to watch Trent Reznor grab his own ass in his tiny leather shorts and wreak backstage havoc in quasi-Spinal Tap moments. Good times!

All of this, of course, has prevented the updating of my website (what was that called again?), but I'm sure you'll all be THRILLED to know that writing more frequently is at the top of my list of resolutions this year. And we all know how set in stone those are. Still. Here's my list of things to get done in 2007:

1) Update my dusty old website and write the Great American Novel.
2) Become lean and mean in preparation for my trip to Prague and Vienna in March. (Because right now I am flabby and retaining water)
3) Work on my German and Italian, so that I can remember vocabulary like "asciugamano" and "Ueberraschung."
4) Get the fucking house in order...it's been like a formidable nemesis ever since last June.
5) Get my greyhound. Feed it and walk it and stuff.
6) Try not to ignore my poor chinchilla who is housed directly behind me in the computer room.
7) Be a better phone friend.
8) Maybe do a jigsaw puzzle or two...they're very calming.
9) Bake more often...although that kind of compromises Resolution #2.
10) See more artsy movies in the theater and write reviews of them.
11) Floss every night...before my dentist hands me my ass.

So there you have it. Normally I would add something like "Get more sleep," but seriously, I have been the worst insomniac lately. Apparently, all I needed to get more than an adequate amount of sleep per night was comfortable furniture. If I sit on our new couches for more than five minutes with the TV on, I'm out like a light for several hours. If I lie down on our new bed, I'm instantly asleep for the night. I guess I'm catching up on all the sleep I missed in my 20s. See, check it out...I'm not the only one! (And that's my silly news story of the day)

All righty, I have to get to the gym and do some swimming now.

--karen

What was that I was saying...

2006-12-04T15:17:00.000-06:00

about things looking up? Well, sadly, on November 26th, my wonderful mother-in-law, Roberta Allison, passed away at the age of 60. This is such a huge blow for me, my husband, his family, and anyone who knew her. She was quite possibly the loveliest person I have ever known, and I could not have asked for a better mother-in-law. I know that people can have such contentious relationships with their in-laws, so I have always felt nothing but profound gratitude that I married into such a terrific family.

People usually speak highly of the very recently deceased, but to be honest, there are not enough good things that could be said about my mother-in-law. We recently sat down with friends and family and the minister who will be officiating at her memorial service to talk about her better qualities, and these are some of the things that were mentioned...all 100 percent true. She just had the biggest heart and an unending supply of caring and compassion. You could call her for advice or just to talk any hour of the day. She had such a wonderful sense of humor, and I will always miss the dirty jokes and anecdotes that used to scandalize me so. She was very committed to what was morally right and just without being judgmental. She had such enormous love for all the members of her family, and she did such an amazing job raising her sons. If I ever have kids someday, I will constantly be thinking of all the things she's taught me about parenthood, even though she was never pushing me to produce grandchildren. I miss her so profoundly, and I'm certain I will always miss her profoundly, but honestly, when I think about her and her voice and her hugs, I just smile.

I don't know if I could ever achieve her patience and stoicism in the face of so much pain. Through her I got to see a really nasty side of diabetes. Such a terrible disease--it brought her constant pain to her hands and legs, affected her heart, her lungs, her kidneys, made her legally blind and caused her to have countless eye surgeries...countless surgeries in general, come to think of it, eventually took away her ability to walk, and was one of the factors that took her away from us way too soon. She had been in the hospital since September 4th with a nasty condition called panniculitis, and there was just one complication after another after another after another. We thought that her health was improving, and I thought she'd be home by Christmastime, but that was not meant to be. She developed a lung infection, and she was just worn out, physically and spiritually, and we had to say our goodbyes. UGH. And through all this, I can honestly say that she never complained. Sure, she'd tell you what was hurting and something was always hurting, but she was never bitter, never blamed anyone or anything.

It's going to be hard getting through her memorial service. It's hard to even comprehend what her loss means...I sometimes just don't even know what we're all going to do without her. I think of Thanksgiving and Christmas and summers at the lake in Michigan, and it's hard to accept that these times will never be the same again. The world in general is a lot less warm and understanding without her in it. I'm so grateful for the memories I have with her...I just wish there could have been so many more.

Sigh.

I guess I'll write something of some substance some time. Eventually.

--karen

I am officially OLD

2006-11-21T10:04:00.000-06:00

Okay, so perhaps when I said that I was going to write and blog more, I didn't quite intend "monthly," but dudes, the past couple of weeks have been out of control at the office. I've just been doing a lot of crazy overtime (in the office til 2:30 a.m. on Tuesday!) and basically sleeping when I'm not working.

But I'm happy to report that everything feels 5,000% better in my life as of late. Personal problems seem to be resolving themselves nicely, and I've started on anti-depressants, which have just been wonderful for me. I can't believe I never tried anything like this before. Such a mood-booster, even if they make me kind of complacent. And sleepy. Yawn. I feel so in touch with my generation...today I officially start my 30s, I'm white-collar, and I'm on anti-depressants. Whoo.

Yes, I am officially OLD today. 30! Actually, I'm not so angst-filled over it. Life is actually looking up in a real way for the first time in about a year...that's something to celebrate. Plus, my friends treated me to a fabulous party last Saturday featuring a photo scavenger hunt at Lincoln Park Zoo and dinner at La Creperie, my favorite restaurant in the city. Tonight Sam is taking me to see Morrissey, and really, is there a better artist to see on one of those depressing milestone birthdays? And tomorrow I'll be blowing out the candles on the birthday cake Matt is getting for me, AND he sent the most lovely roses to the office today.

PLUS...I'm seriously so stoked, everyone. In March I will be visiting one of my VERY FAVORITE PEOPLE ON THE PLANET in Prague, and we will be dorking out superlatively seeing Nine Inch Nails in Vienna. OMG! Everytime work is sucking or I'm stuck in traffic, I just think, Prague and Vienna...Prague and Vienna...Prague and Vienna...I seriously can't wait. The only way the prospect of this trip could be any more exciting is if we can convince another of my very favorite people on the planet to join us. We shall see...

All right, I've got to apply nose to grindstone. My ass is going to be WORKING all Thanksgiving weekend. In between gorging and turkey-induced naps, that is.

--karen

OMFG...she lives! Happy Insomniac lives!

2006-10-14T16:25:00.000-05:00

Yeah, it was about fucking time I updated.

I'm just going to paste this in from a message I sent to our mailing list because...well, it's a lot of links.

Two new authors!

Carrie Cahill gives us a new poem, "Alone"
Laura has written two haikus: "Married Life Means" and "Where the Hell Are We?"
Learn more about Carrie and Laura here.

Meanwhile, we have EVEN MORE haikus for you!
I'm going to bum out and possibly alarm everyone with "Haikus on Depression." (Long story short, I'm still trucking. No worries!)
But Mandy will lighten up the mood with her haiku cycle regarding her quest for corn muffins.

As for me, well...it's not been the most stellar couple of months, but I've got to pick myself back up, you know? It's all well and good to be a writer in despair as long as you're writing, right? So I'm going to try to make Happy Insomniac updates a little more of a regular gig. And maybe take an interest in the world around me and blog and shit.

Things that have been keeping me going...

Trent Reznor
Tall, skim chai at Starbucks
Season 3 of Project Runway (Go Uli!!!)
Internet abuse at work
My secret wonderwalls (you know who you are)

Come to think of it..."My secret wonderwalls" sounds kind of dirty. Like Prince and Sheena Easton with their "Sugar Walls." But rest assured, I'm referring to the Oasis song.

Ummm...I dunno...I just woke up from a nap a while ago, so I have that sort of headachy/numb face feeling, and I can't really put two coherent thoughts together. But this is pretty good for one day, huh?

Later, skaters.

--karen

Yet Another Sign that All Is Wrong with the World...

2006-09-04T09:38:00.000-05:00

OMG, the Crocodile Hunter died! And taken down by a stingray? I can't believe this! I feel just profoundly disturbed. Matt and I would always watch his show together pretty much every time we saw that it was on, and it was always about him cheerfully taking the stupidest risks and getting away with it every time, and he was all endearing enthusiasm and exuberance. And then he loses his life to an animal that you can pet at Sea World (minus poisonous barb, of couse)? I just can't believe this!

I feel just awful for his poor family, who, thanks to Animal Planet, I'm sure most of us feel like we know. I've been in his kids' shoes (well, except for the stingray part), and that kind of an experience at that age really changes the course of your entire life. Not necessarily for the worse...but it just fundamentally changes you as a person. I'm glad that his life was so well documented that they will at least get a chance to know him as he was, but that's still so sad.

And I think of all the tyrants and horrible murderous people out there, alive and kicking, and I ask, how can this possibly be fair? You've got a guy who dedicates his entire life to educating people about nature and trying to preserve and protect animals and their habitats, and he's got to die at such a young age? I mean, yeah, he spent most of that life picking up poisonous snakes and jumping on enormous crocodiles, but he wasn't even really screwing around that much this time! It reminds me of my friend Tina, also an avid environmentalist and just all-around kind and decent person who died instantaneously of a brain aneurysm at the age of 26.

WTF, God? I mean, with everything in the world and my personal life turning upside down and not in a good way, and Steve Irwin dying in a freak accident...WTF?

--karen

I'm not dead...

2006-08-22T13:33:00.000-05:00

just a bad blogger, and look, I'll save you the paragraphs and paragraphs of self pity at my current state in life. Also, blogger is really acting up today in a bad way.

What I will do is point you to this:

Jane Magazine is apparently having some sort of contest(?) to get Sarah, some cute and perky 29-year-old alleged virgin laid. Distasteful? Yes. But the best part is checking out the current contenders of lovely lads Sarah will get to spend some time with.

Contender #1: George isn't bad looking, claims to make a decent salary, has a shit-eating grin.

Contender #2: Awwwwwwwwww yeah! Joe here is the reason I even bothered blogging about this nonsense! Not only does he look like a classic douchebag, but his account of his first time just tells you...this guy is all about the romance! "She was older, hot and very aggressive. What really makes it a great "first time" story is that she was deaf. Maybe that's why she was being so loud...she couldn't hear herself yelping and moaning." OMG, Sarah, this is the man for you!!!

Contender #3: Dan, currently reading "The Little Prince," which is endearing but otherwise seems pretty boring.

Contender #4: Jason, from the "Hunter S. Thompson" school of fashion. Tells Penthouse fantasy version of virginity loss. Claims to have deflowered one woman, but "she was a delicate flower, and nothing broke." Ick.

Contender #5: Daniel. Strangely intense-looking, and not in a good way. Probably thinks he's showing off his eyes, but he's giving me serial killer vibes. Plays the bagpipes, though, so there's a point in his favor.

Contender #6: (Jesus Christ, how many of them do they have?) Noam, an attractive, boring neurologist.

Contender #7: Dustin, so far Joe's only real competition in sleazy douchebaggery. Pictured with beer, natch. His strategy to put her at ease for her first time? "Get us drunk." Rock on!

Contender #8: Evan. Oh no. Just...no.

Contender #9: Diego. His pic is a little too dark for my work monitor, but my work monitor sucks. Craziest thing that's ever happened to him? "Date rapist had the same name as me." Hm.

Contender #10: David. Craziest thing that's ever happened to him? "A hot girl once made out with me on a bed." Whatever, he's so totally a virgin too.

There are apparently THOUSANDS of men applying for the position of "virgin surgeon" in the public eye, but I'll only address one more...

Contender #11: Mike, who would clearly be a good time.

I'm not sure how much I'm going to keep up with this process of elimination for poor Sarah, as it makes me feel as though I'm going to revisit my lunch in an unpleasant way, but kudos to her for volunteering to lose her virginity in what is quite possibly the skeeviest and most humiliating way EVER.

--karen

Back to pop culture nonsense!

2006-07-20T10:30:00.000-05:00

You know, I never like it when artists don't take criticism gracefully. Well, I should amend that, I never take criticism gracefully...I am usually filled with a sense of wounded indignation and defensive pride. But *you don't say so in public*. Yes, I'm talking to you, Kevin Smith, after your (let's be frank) tacky tirades against film critic Joel Siegel, who walked out of a Clerks II screening. Sure, Siegel is lame, and it was unprofessional of him to make a comment while theatrically departing. But it's hardly like he interrupted some Gospel reading at Easter services at the Vatican. Just let it go. Be happy that someone lame hated your film and found it so offensive that he couldn't bear to sit through another minute. As you yourself said, Kevin, it's a "badge of honor." But stop the public carping and griping. It makes you look like some thin-skinned asshole.

Maybe it's just that I sat through college and grad school writing workshop after writing workshop, where any fellow student has the right to take a potshot at your work in front of everyone else, and you just get to sit there with a frozen smile on your face. Most of the time, though, I realized that 90% of the people discussing my work weren't taking potshots at all...they were trying to be helpful. And when I got over my sense of wounded indignation, sometimes I would realize that they were right about my story. Granted, there were some people who wanted to showboat at the expense of others, but they were few and far between, and if you just let it go, no one remembers it by the end of class.

Would a little decorum kill anyone?

--karen

I feel kind of guilty...

2006-07-20T01:37:00.000-05:00

for blogging almost exclusively about the non-events in my personal life and other silliness and not commenting on how the world is fucking falling apart at the seams. But honestly, what's to say? If there's one less person out there publishing an opinion on Israel, that's probably a good thing. I mean, honestly, I do wish it would stop; I'm pissed off at my government for sitting there with their collective thumbs up their asses; there's assholishness and brutality on all sides of every conflict that's raging right now; and I feel nothing but sympathy for all the people caught in the middle, no matter what their nationality or religion.

In an attempt to be a slightly less anxious person than I am (it's practically a pathology at this point), I've been trying to get some of the weight of the world off of my shoulders, piece by piece. I mean, I don't want to advocate apathy and obliviousness, but at the same time, there's not a goddamn thing that Karen Gsteiger can personally do right now to defuse the nuclear tensions in Iran and North Korea. And I'm working on accepting that and going along for the ride.

--karen

Thank you, sweet Jesus!

2006-07-12T09:32:00.000-05:00

That Q101, one of the better radio stations in town, has dumped super-annoying conservative shock jock Mancow from their morning lineup. Now that Q101 is playing better music these days, it was such a drag for them to devote like four hours every morning to that tireless blowhard. He talked and talked and talked and talked and pontificated and talked. Good riddance to bad rubbish. When they do put together some sort of morning program, I just hope that MUSIC is involved.

In a freaky development--a Blue Line train (my El line of choice) derailed and caught on fire yesterday. I'm just happy that no one I know (that I know of) was caught up in that mess.

Um, very little progress is being made at the house at the moment because...well, I don't really know. I think our new house has a sort of soporific effect. I walk in the door, and I'm ready to go to bed for the night. I'm hoping that will change once we have some entertainment in place...TV, computer. Also, I think I'm sleeping so much to avoid all of the painful chores that lie in wait.

I do have a new author waiting to be published on HI. And I'm eager to get back to writing myself, but I've got to be patient and wait for the husband to get the computer up and running. The whole internet situation at home has been a lot more complicated than we had anticipated.

--karen

Meh.

2006-07-05T16:47:00.000-05:00

The nth bitched-out post in a row...sorry.

Well, my husband and I are finally all in one place--the new house! It took us 30 hours of solid moving to get the job done, no thanks to the dead battery in my husband's Jeep the day we absolutely had to get all of our shit out of the apartment.

What a nightmare! I don't even know how we did it...driving back and forth on an hour's sleep. I can tell you, though, that that is the LAST time we move ourselves in our own vehicles. Movers, movers, movers.

Right after moving, Sam and I went to go see Peaches/Bauhaus/NIN, which was a glorious end to a dreadful day. I'm not quite sure how I was able to stay awake for it, but somehow I managed. Unfortunately, Trent Reznor did not ask me to be his concubine because I would have said YES. Anything to end this relocation hell!

Now, I just have to face the dreadful mess at home.

A new Happy Insomniac update will be coming shortly...as soon as we get our computer at home hooked up. I haven't given up the dream of writing yet, although the combination of work and moving has made jumping out of a tall window appear to be a very attractive option.

--karen

Slices of suburban life...

2006-06-26T14:59:00.000-05:00

So we have taken our computer apart, and I probably won't have internet access at home until the end of the week, which has me trembling and breaking out into hives.

Meanwhile, every last thing at work is pissing me off to the point of violence today. People and their goddamn inability to put things in the right fucking format...is it so much to ask people to just do things right the first time so that I don't have to spend hours of my life fixing these easily preventable problems? ARRRRRGGGGH.

Sorry about that.

Meanwhile, here are a couple of moments of Suburban Life for you.

1) Matt was at our new place painting while the HVAC guys were cleaning out our ducts (filthy!) and servicing our air conditioner. The cable guy was there at the same time. The cable guy reported to Matt that some woman started bitching to him about something the HVAC guys were doing...something about hoses or cables...we never got a specific account of her grievances. The cable guy told Matt that this woman was taking pictures of our house and threatening to report us to the association. And we haven't even really moved in yet! Matt went outside to try to talk to her, but she had gone. So I don't know if we'll get flack over this in the future. The ironic thing is that Matt and I, being the amiable sort, would have been happy to help her with anything that was bothering her if she had just come up to the door and asked in a civil tone of voice. But no...sigh. We don't know who this woman is or where exactly she lives, but the next day we were moving some stuff in and saw some woman taking pictures of the street. We guessed that something about people's parking was disturbing her. So great, it appears that we have The Bylaw Police living on our block. I swear, if this becomes a daily thing with her and her camera, I'm getting a fucking restraining order. That shit Creeps Me Out.

2) I was painting the living room and happened to look out our sliding glass door in the front only to see 4-5 baby skunks hanging out right in front of our door. Matt suspects that they're living in a gap under our front porch. Cute as the dickens and I'm normally a fan of wildlife, but I want those stinky bastards removed immediately. If we wind up getting a greyhound, as is my heart's one true desire, that's the last thing I would like to see him/her chasing. It just sucks because it's not like you can just say "Shoo!" and wave a broomstick at them to chase them off. Or you could, but you would dearly regret it, I would think...

--karen

Yep, still alive...barely.

2006-06-20T12:05:00.000-05:00

You know, although I do love my insomnia, I am getting kind of tired to see 4:00 a.m. and think, "Oh, I still have more painting to do or an hour more of office stuff to do."

This has got to be one of the most unpleasant months of my entire life.

Anyway, enough bitching.

An interesting update to the story of the 16-year-old American girl who ran off to the Middle East to meet her MySpace boyfriend.

You know, maybe I'm starting to become old and not as technically adept, but how on earth does anyone fall in love on MySpace? You've got the average profile with a lot of shit all over the page and some random music playing that you can't figure out how to turn off. The person puts up a basic profile and a bunch of pictures of him/herself posing with groups of people looking ecstatic at parties. That person has about 5,678 "friends" who all leave comments like "Call me...i miss u!" and "Class of 2006--whoo!" and post ginormous animated avatars.

It would be like falling in love with someone outside of the "Total Request Live" building.

Call me cynical and unromantic, but UGH.

--karen

Insomnia rising...

2006-06-13T00:24:00.000-05:00

[cue the violins]

Okay, so lately I've just been feeling really overwhelmed, and confidence and self-esteem have been pretty low. I'm living in chaos in two different locations at the moment, and work is kicking my ass at the same time. And there's pretty much no reprieve til, oh, July or August. The husband is overworked and cranky, and he keeps finding fault with our new place, so he's feeling pretty defeated as well.

What's more, lately I've been getting just insanely sleepy at 8 or 9 every evening and then wind up falling asleep until, oh, 2 in the morning, rendering me absolutely useless for an entire night. What the hell? Where had my dependable insomnia gone? I couldn't get to the gym...I've been eating a lot of crap...and I've just been kicking the crap out of myself mentally.

Well, folks, the time is now 12:27 a.m. I did a shitload of work at the office today, fucking scrubbed our bedroom walls for a couple of tedious hours, made it to the gym (while doing more work at the same time), and now I'm wide awake and ready for a little more.

I don't think I even hate myself as much as I have the past couple of days.

Ladies and gentlemen, hopefully I'm not jinxing myself here, but I may just be getting my mojo back.

About goddamn time.

--karen

Hmmmm...

2006-06-08T09:39:00.000-05:00

Well, I can either keep up the radio silence or bitch and moan about how work and moving are preventing me from blogging/writing.

Wait, it's not so much the work and moving as the laziness.

Some friends and I saw An Inconvenient Truth on Tuesday evening, and I heartily recommend it to all. Even if you're aware that global warming is a problem, the implications of the statistics you are shown will shock you. The film also made me yearn for a President with eloquence who cared about such things. I try not to think about how things would be different had Gore or Kerry won the elections. The 2004 Election was just devastating to me...it took me a long time to recover my energy and enthusiasm for political issues. This film has helped. It'll be really hard to change the habits that we've all grown accustomed to in order to make an individual contribution to solving the global warming crisis. The good news is that just about everything you can do to help curb global warming--like driving less, turning off the lights and other electronic appliances you aren't really using, using more energy-efficient appliances, etc.--will also help you save money. Now that my husband and I have had our "cashtration" in buying our first home, saving money while helping to save the planet doesn't sound like such a bad idea. I'm not fooling myself, though. I think the only thing that's really going to solve this problem is legislation, and the current administration doesn't even seem to believe in global warming.

Just one of the many, many reasons that the upcoming elections in 2006 and 2008 are so important. I don't know about you, but I don't know how much more of Republican leadership I can take.

--karen

The Day the Humor Died...

2006-06-03T11:27:00.000-05:00

So I just got done with a big Salon.com rant (one of many), and lo and behold, their readership hits a new low.

I don't know if any of you have read The Best Page in the Universe, which has been run by "Maddox" for years. His reviews of children's artwork bring me to tears every single time. His persona is that of crabby, profane, chauvinist, know-it-all, and he is fucking hilarious. I guess he's written a book now, The Alphabet of Manliness, and he had the poor judgment to be interviewed by Salon.com.

The interview itself is a little disappointing...I'm not sure if Maddox had trouble deciding whether to talk in terms of his persona or be more serious, but he kind of comes off as an inarticulate, noncommittal douche in some places, saying things like, " I'm not sure the feminist movement accomplished all its goals. People today have a backlash to the feminist movement. The [figure] who is remembered when you think of feminism, by people who haven't studied it, is the [un]shaved girl burning her bra, standing on campus screaming at everybody. That's definitely not a positive image. I think the feminist movement went a little too far. But a lot of things have changed for the better from the eras of segregation and huge racism and the civil rights movement. " Uhhh, way to take a stand on that! Also, he doesn't have a very good answer as to why it's okay to poke fun at women but not, say, black people. (Never mind the fact that women, like myself, have no problem making fun of men.) He doesn't respond with his usual egotistical certainty, which is yet more proof that his whole "I'm right, and you're not" schtick is...just that. Schtick. Beyond that, he seems well-meaning and a little confused in that libertarian sort of way.

But anyway, the "letters to the editor" section has just gone absolutely berserk with accusuations of MISOGYNY and BOORISHNESS and OPPRESSION and UNFUNNINESS. Oh, the humanity!

I think that I have amply demonstrated my feminist liberal cred, and I think the guy's writing is hilarious in that "equal opportunity offender" vein that is very dear to my heart. A guy who takes on Bush and Bill O'Reilly and anti-immigration types can't be that much of a Neanderthal. Not all of his articles are spot-on hilarious, and sometimes he does resort to a Man Show kind of humor, but it's not like he's advocating the revocation of abortion rights and denial to access to birth control and keeping track of our phone calls, so people need to just chill the fuck out.

Jesus.

--karen

Okay...

2006-05-31T09:34:00.000-05:00

So I finally did talk to someone at Nicor gas. One utility down...a bunch more phone calls to make! God, I hate moving. We've got to start packing up the stuff we normally don't use, and once we get the keys to our new place, we've got some painting to do. We've got to schedule a furnace installation and furniture delivery, and then we've got to haul all our crap over. Oh yeah, then we'll have to put it all away. Did I mention that I hate moving?

Yesterday was kind of a wash-out. Woke up strangely nauseated and pukey, so I "worked from home," meaning I half-heartedly tackled some projects at a very slow rate and slept away the nausea. Then I had a headache in the evening, so I slept through some home improvement shows. Exciting evening.

Meanwhile, I can't find a single news story that's worth blogging about. Haditha massacre? Too depressing. Brangelina baby? Who gives a fuck? Perhaps it's time for another Salon rant.

As a paid subscriber, I'm becoming increasingly frustrated, yet it's like a trainwreck, and I can't turn away. The political stories are all of the alarmist "The world is ending!!!!!!" variety with just a hint of smugness, "Well, we had predicted the end of the world in 2003, after all." The so-called "life" stories are all babies, motherhood, babies, motherhood, babies, motherhood. If the author isn't a mother, then she is agonizing about whether or not to be a mother. I always find Cary Tennis's advice column entertaining, mostly because I'm an advice column addict and because Cary always has such pretty ways of never answering anyone's questions. The real trainwreck of the website, though, is the "letters" section, where you can instantly post your opinion about any article on the site, and that opinion is almost always one of hatred and disgust. It simultaneously dumbs down the entire operation yet makes it more interesting. So that leaves the movie and TV reviews and the gossip feature, which are all well done, but there I am, spending even *more* time reading about entertainment. I don't really want to be paying for the content of this site, nor do I want to watch a stupid ad every day to gain access, nor do I want to stop reading it altogether. What's a well-meaning liberal girl with too much time on her hands to do?

Well, actually, that part about having too much time on my hands is a lie. I'm pretty swamped here at work due to some recent slacking, and yesterday's unexpected illness didn't help...

--karen

On hold with Nicor gas...

2006-05-25T17:00:00.000-05:00

Dear Nicor:

Your fluty classical music does not soothe me. Someone pick up the goddamn phone.

Sincerely,
Karen Gsteiger

Please God...

2006-05-24T03:15:00.000-05:00

Now that the Bulls have the number two draft pick, please don't let us get Adam Morrison--he of the HORRIBLE hair (see what I'm talking about in my May 15th entry?), worse non-mustache, and copious weeping upon losing at the NCAA tournament. To paraphrase Tom Hanks, "There's no crying in basketball!"

--karen

So Matt and I...

2006-05-23T09:58:00.000-05:00

closed on our house yesterday! We're going to be moving to Schaumburg, IL--a suburb that is so obscenely suburban that the Onion makes fun of it. I'm definitely a lot less anxiety-filled now that that's done, but if I really think about all the money that we'll soon be spending and all the years and years of legal obligation we signed ourselves up for and the fact that the association needs to do some work on our roof, I can still work myself up into a good frenzy about it.

So I'm going to try to still make updates to Happy Insomniac during the packing and moving process, but I have a feeling that it will be at a slower rate than I would like. Like that's any big surprise, given my recent creative writing output. It's been really hard to just sit down and concentrate. But I've got some projects that I'd like to get done before my life goes into complete upheaval...

Meanwhile, this picture just makes me laugh and laugh.

--karen

God knows...

2006-05-17T22:23:00.000-05:00

I'm not normally inclined to like someone like Britney Spears, and I'm inclined to like her husband even less.

But I can't help feeling sympathetic towards her as the entire Internet scrutinizes her parenting skills. Sure, she's faced some uh...parental challenges with her son, Sean Preston, but I'm sure millions of parents make similar mistakes every day. They just don't have a swarm of paparazzi surrounding them at all times to record these moments for posterity. Look, back in the late '70s, my mother had me sitting on her lap in the front passenger seat of the car while she herself was not wearing her seatbelt. And look--here I am--fully intact, talking to you today! And I had a great mother--all kids should be so lucky as to have a mom like mine. Of course, in 2006, now we all know better than to drive around with our kids unrestrained, and I would never condone not putting a small child in a car seat and, while you're at it, learning how to install it properly. My point is, we can all put down those rocks we keep handy to lob at women who aren't fitting our increasingly inflexible mold of The Perfect Mother. And why are we so eager to pick up those rocks in the first place? Parenting isn't easy, and I bet that for many of you out there, if you think of the private moments of your family, there were at least one or two incidents where DCFS could justifiably have intervened. But in all likelihood, they didn't, and things sorted themselves out anyway.

Besides, come on--it's Britney! This is a girl who is photographed walking barefoot into public restrooms. Clearly, she's not going to be some paragon of domestic perfection, but that's all right. I'm sure she's a loving mother, and I'm sure she'll figure out these child transportation issues eventually. As long as she doesn't get into any car accidents in the near future, I'm confident that young Sean will turn out all right, in his own way. Now his father, on the other hand...

--karen

So I had thought...

2006-05-15T23:19:00.000-05:00

that May 15th was going to be my "up and at 'em, get my shit together" day, then I woke up with a headache that, by the end of my morning shower, had blossomed into a migraine, complete with vomiting. Ole! Fuuuuck, so that meant a day off of work that I hadn't intended to take, but when I barf, all bets are off, and I'm not leaving the house. Plus, my headache just didn't quit for 12 fucking hours. That, in my opinion, was a bit excessive. It was nice to have Matt with me today though. I'm not exactly stoic in my suffering. So I'm glad he lay there on the living room floor with me and watched movies all day long when he should have been sleeping. Finding Nemo is probably my favorite movie to watch when I'm ill. The story is engaging and funny, the vibrant colors are really therapeutic and soothing, and I've watched it enough times that I can fall asleep in the middle and not feel as though I missed anything. (I always seem to fall asleep after the part with the anglerfish.)

The only thing that gets me about Finding Nemo sometimes is that my friend Tina died before she had a chance to watch it, and during her brother's eulogy he said that they watched it with her three times while she was in a coma. So sometimes I think about that, and the themes of loss and "letting go" kind of get to me. But it's good to have things to remind me of her.

I promised myself that I was going to pay attention to my chinchilla tonight and go to bed earlier, so I guess the only other thing I have to say is that tween and teenage boys need to cut their fucking hair. Seriously. It's not as though I'm opposed to long hair on guys...just bad long hair. Every where I go, I feel like I'm trapped in the 1976 version of The Bad News Bears. And all these boys are at an age where their parents have enough authority over them to prevent them from looking so fucking stupid. So cut their damn hair!!!!!

--karen

Vacation! Oh...it's over already?

2006-05-14T01:11:00.000-05:00

Well, it's been a while since I've checked in, but I feel MUCH more refreshed. I spent the last nine days in lovely California, wondering what the hell I'm doing in the Midwest all the damn time, and I ate too much, drank too much (especially last Monday...my husband's best friend managed in his extremely persuasive way to get me really hammered to the point that the next morning, I actually *craved* a huge plate of bacon and eggs and fried potatoes, which is just absolutely UNHEARD OF in the world of Karen's breakfasts...well, the eggs and bacon that is. I eat fried potatoes all the time), saw approximately one gazillion animals with our San Diego Zoo/Wild Animal Park/Sea World 3-for-1 pass, watched the Chicago Cubs lose, lose, lose and LOSE to the Padres, briefly stopped in LA to visit some beloved friends...it was a really full week!

I was even attacked by a bird! We were walking through one of the aviaries in the San Diego Zoo, and there were three large birds (I forget which kind) hanging out on the ground in front of the exit. As I walked past them, one of them gently grabbed the leg of my jeans with its beak and gave it a good tug. I exclaimed, "Aah!" in a high-pitched voice and trotted away, and it half-heartedly chased me. Matt thought that this was hilarious.

Meanwhile, we spent some time on the phone with our realtor, our loan officer, and our real estate lawyer, and we're *this* close to closing on a townhouse in the 'burbs. There's this sense of "Oh God, what *are* we doing?" But there's also an urgent voice in our heads that says, "Don't let anyone else get this place!"

Although our checking accounts will be thoroughly cleaned out, I think there will be a demonstrable improvement in our quality of life, including such niceties as two levels, a basement (ooooh!), a washer and dryer of our very own, a dishwasher (ahhhhh!), and an extra bedroom so that I don't have to write the Great American novel in the living room while Matt watches Prison Break or plays some explosive XBox 360 game. We even get a one-car garage, but seeing as we have two cars, that will take some strategizing. (I think Matt is resigned to the fact that the Hyundai gets the garage during the winter.) Best of all, we'll finally be able to get the dog that I've been obsessing over for months. Seriously, I want a dog the way some 30-year-old women want a baby. This whole house-buying/moving thing will be happening in an expedited fashion, so I'm expecting my domestic life to be complete chaos til *at least* July.

Meanwhile, work is still going to be insane, as the World's Worst Client will be terrorizing me throughout the summer, among other projects.

But despite it all, I am hoping to keep up with Happy Insomniac, at least in a cursory, half-assed fashion. As for my lurking friends, I thank you for your continued patience as I try to get my shit together. This whole hermit routine isn't exactly by choice...

--karen

Brief Happy Insomniac Update...

2006-05-01T22:49:00.000-05:00

I was hoping by this time I could have posted more to Happy Insomniac, but I think that this will just have to do. At least it gives you a good mind as to my mindset currently:

Somebody HELP ME: A Haiku Cycle

Enjoy!

--karen

By this time...

2006-05-01T22:19:00.000-05:00

everyone and her cousin has blogged about Stephen Colbert's tour-de-force performance at the White House Correspondents' dinner. The content and tone is very close to that of his "Colbert Report" on Comedy Central (pronounced "Colberrrr Reporrrrr"). In fact, I'm pretty sure that he used the gags about "I looked it up in my gut" on his first show. But it's a jaw-dropping performance as he unleashes the most savagely ironic political commentary while looking right into the eyes of the President. And there is absolutely nothing Dubya can do about it. Absolutely classic. So jaw-dropping, in fact, that Colbert's audience appears afraid to laugh.

Some of my favorite lines (thanks to a transcript provided by Daily Kos):

And though I am a committed Christian, I believe that everyone has the right to their own religion, be you Hindu, Jewish or Muslim. I believe there are infinite paths to accepting Jesus Christ as your personal savior.

I stand by this man. I stand by this man because he stands for things. Not only for things, he stands on things. Things like aircraft carriers and rubble and recently flooded city squares. And that sends a strong message, that no matter what happens to America, she will always rebound -- with the most powerfully staged photo ops in the world.

The greatest thing about this man is he's steady. You know where he stands. He believes the same thing Wednesday that he believed on Monday, no matter what happened Tuesday.

But the rest of you, what are you thinking, reporting on NSA wiretapping or secret prisons in eastern Europe? Those things are secret for a very important reason: they're super-depressing. And if that's your goal, well, misery accomplished. Over the last five years you people were so good -- over tax cuts, WMD intelligence, the effect of global warming. We Americans didn't want to know, and you had the courtesy not to try to find out. Those were good times, as far as we knew.

Everybody asks for personnel changes. So the White House has personnel changes. Then you write, "Oh, they're just rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic." First of all, that is a terrible metaphor. This administration is not sinking. This administration is soaring. If anything, they are rearranging the deck chairs on the Hindenburg!

The hilarity goes on and on and on. And a good 47% of the comedy is just the sheer discomfort he creates in that room as he essentially humiliates a sullen Dubya and takes the press to task for their failure to report the Emperor's nekkidness. It's no wonder he gives Helen Thomas (a national treasure) a kiss at the end of his speech as he is snubbed by Laura Bush. If you haven't seen it yet, you absolutely must, so you can find the video here.

So...yeah. Life is STILL crazy. I've still got a lot more work to do...Matt and I are *this* close to closing on a house (the inspection is tomorrow)...and we're leaving for sunny San Diego on Thursday for a MUCH-NEEDED vacation. The way things are going, I think I can look forward to a good night's sleep some time in mid-August.

--karen

Yup...

2006-04-24T16:15:00.000-05:00

I'm *still* in hell.

I wish I could chronicle the antics of the World's Worst Client, but I'm so not going to be one of those people who wind up in some business article in the Chicago Tribune about the dangers of blogging, "I never thought anyone would read my blog, but then I got fired!" Needless to say, the World's Worst Client has me under his/her sadistic thumb, and that will be the case for a while actually. Probably all the way up to our vacation (the prospect of which is pretty much the only thing that's keeping me alive at the moment) and then immediately after.

To make matters more interesting, Microsoft Word is really acting up at home. I think I'm going to have to reinstall the program tonight! This makes me feel rather nervous, in regard to my body of literary work, which, half-assed as it is, is all I have.

I have some new haikus at least, so hopefully those can go up soon. I really would like to make some time for my life outside of work this week, but I'm not sure how realistic a goal that is at the moment.

Meanwhile, I meant to note and celebrate Happy Insomniac's one-year anniversary, which was on April 18th, but the date kind of slipped my mind. Anyway, happy birthday to...uh...us! Despite my horrific neglect of my site, it is still up and running and open for business. So if there's anything that you would like to submit, please send it to happyinsomniaczine@yahoo.com, and I would be happy to look it over. More submission information can be found here.

--karen

Still in hell...

2006-04-19T02:59:00.000-05:00

I just wanted to chronicle that it is 2:57 a.m., and I have just brought up several loads of laundry and did another round of work. I probably could have accomplished these things earlier this evening, but a friend offered Matt and me free skybox tickets to a Blackhawks game, so one could hardly say no to an offer like that. We won, btw, and I got free food out of the deal.

Work is still kicking my ass. I'm dying to write up reviews of Brick and Inside Man, both of which I have recently seen, but all three of my readers must continue to be patient, I'm afraid. Also there are some haikus to be born out of this harried time in my life.

In short, I recommend seeing Brick immediately and taking all your friends with you. I also recommend Inside Man, although I encourage you to pick a theater with more comfortable seats than the Pickwick in Park Ridge. More on these later.

Meanwhile, either I've got an incorrigibly dirty mind, or this is a really badly written headline:

Bush, After Some Changes, Vows More Coming

Good God, I have to get to bed. More metaphorical ass-thrashing awaits me at the office bright and early tomorrow morning.

--karen

Happiness in Slavery...

2006-04-13T11:48:00.000-05:00

This has been a week where pretty much every waking moment is being spent on my day job. Well, with some brief online diversions, like this. But seriously. If I haven't been eating, sleeping, or swimming, then I've been working. It's back to proofreading on the exercise bike! If I could write in the pool, I probably would. We've got a certain client who's fond of psychological torture. Her newest trick is to demand projects about two weeks ahead of the deadline. So this has led to me staying up til about 1:30-2:30 every night, working away. If you're a regular reader of this blog, you know that I'm no stranger to the midnight hour, but the stress is just eating away at me.

Anyhoo...haven't had a lot of time to blog lately, and I've got some pieces that I would very much like to write for Happy Insomniac, but I'm afraid it's going to have to be put off for a few days...

Meanwhile, most interesting news story of the day:

Some couple claimed to have given birth to sextuplets to troll for online donations to pay their bills. You know, unless you know six kids you can borrow on a regular basis, your hoax will be found out sooner or later.

Also, you MUST click on this link. This makes me so happy just to look at it. It's these hermit sheep in New Zealand who haven't been sheared in like four years. Look at them run! Just look at those puffballs run!!!

--karen

Of course they are...

2006-04-07T09:06:00.000-05:00

A proposal to replace "love it" with the state's official motto, "Live Free or Die," which has been on New Hampshire's license plates for decades, has widespread support in the Legislature. But some people would rather see something a little less, well, belligerent.

Back in those sepia-toned pre-9/11 days, "Live Free or Die" always seemed rather comically vehement. But it does not suprise me for a second that at this point in our history some people want to change their state motto to something completely neutered, like "Scenic New Hampshire" or "Love it." It is symptomatic of what's going on with this entire country.

No one wants to contemplate "live free or die" because "or die" is part of the equation. (Although "or die" is always part of the equation, isn't it?) And we can't possibly martyr ourselves to the cause of freedom when we have to drop our kids off at soccer practice at 4 and we have all that money sitting in our 401k.

So, to make a national sentiment more accurate, it should probably be something like "Live cowed and under the illusion of security." And let the powers that be do whatever the fuck they want.

--karen

It's not so much...

2006-04-03T03:08:00.000-05:00

really late at night as really early in the morning.

Anyway, we've got a new Happy Insomniac update...finally! Please click on and enjoy the following:

New poems from a new contributor! "Kidney Stone" and "Tall Man," brought to us by Marisa N. Pickar.

Meanwhile, have you ever read those letters in advice columns in which a woman expresses how utterly appalled she is that her man watches porn? Well, our Sam Romano provides some helpful tips to them in "A Girl's Guide to Porn."

Finally, I've got a new installment of "The Inheritance" for you. Finally, something I've written that advances past chapter/part/section 3!!!

--karen

Gratuitous chinchilla pic...

2006-04-02T04:01:00.000-05:00

That's it, really. Just my Rollo. She likes to bite her fur, so she's kind of a Raggedy Ann, but you can't see it as much in this pic. She likes it when you scratch her right there.

--karen

The frequency with which I blog...

2006-04-01T03:52:00.000-06:00

is a pretty good indication of the state of organization in my life.

Things seem rather chaotic lately, but not like crisis-chaotic. More like, "Where did the time go?" This might have something to do with the fact that my new sleeping habit seems to be falling asleep at 8:30 or 9:00 p.m. and waking up at like 1:30 or 2:00 a.m., then being up til about 4:00, then going back to bed again. So at 3:00 a.m., I'm generally thinking of all the things I should have done earlier in the evening that I can't do at that crazy hour.

I've constantly got this vague feeling of "I should call my Mom." I'd be a lot less anxiety-filled if I knew whether or not her house is having foundation problems. Ever since my brother suggested the prospect after noticing that her door was sticking, it's enough to put me into a cold sweat. We're supposed to have someone come look at that soon.

Despite the fact that Happy Insomniac hasn't updated in an age, I've actually been writing. An update is imminent (and it's not just my stuff), so stay tuned, my five readers.

If I had any energy or time, I could pull some elaborate April Fool's prank, but meh.

Brief rundown of the news:

Hooray for Jill Carroll! It's nice to see one of those harrowing stories end well, for a change.

I'm glad that IU didn't wind up with Steve Alford as the head basketball coach. I know I'm at odds with a lot of my fellow alum on this, but I am SO ready to move past the Bobby Knight years. They're like the Democrats who see nothing but Clintons and Gore in the past and Clintons and Gore in the future. I'm not sure how I feel about Kelvin Sampson, though, with these NCAA recruiting violation investigations hanging over his head and possibly affecting Indiana. The one good thing about Knight's legacy is that IU was considered more or less clean in that regard (or at least, I had never heard about anything shady).

Despite the fact that it literally turns the stomach, I've been keeping up with that whole Duke lacrosse team gang-rape investigation and particularly with the race and class issues that are involved. I wish these high-profile cases didn't wind up being so degrading to everyone involved, and I fully expect this one to go all the way to the bottom. Sigh.

George Clooney is apparently taking on Gawker Stalker. He's suggesting that friends of celebrities flood the site with fake sightings, thus, in his opinion, making the site worthless. What I think he fails to understand is that, when you're in a cubicle and bored, pretty much any celebrity gossip will keep you entertained. Plus, if publicists start making their bogus Gawker Stalker sightings too creative, people will fully believe them. In fact, people pretty much believe anything they read on the Internet. I mean, yeah, I can see their point about privacy and personal safety. But 90% of the Gawker Stalker sightings I've read run along the lines of "I saw _____ at the new Trader Joe's!" or "_____ was in _____ restaurant. She ordered trout and appeared petulant." In other words, most of the sightings are banal and in the past tense. If you were actually in NY (or in Defamer's case, LA), you could rush right over to said location to find said celebrity long gone. And for those of us in the flyover states, it's like, "Uhhhh...okay." And, of course, the tizzy is only publicizing Gawker Stalker that much more.

Meanwhile, in other celebrity news: Russell Simmons and Kimora Lee are splitting up. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! Man, I hope that Kimora scores a hell of a settlement and alimony setup because if she can't maintain her lifestyle of fabulosity (or whatever word she invented), the world will become just a little grayer and sadder.

Jesus, it's late. I was sleeping on the living room floor half the night, though...I swear!

--karen

In honor of my poor mom...

2006-03-27T23:42:00.000-06:00

ever the Harrison Ford fan, all my beloved lurkers MUST MUST MUST MUST click on this link...

--karen

Ack!

2006-03-27T22:41:00.000-06:00

Someone burglarized my mom's house today! I don't think they stole very much, but her house has been ransacked. I'm just feeling really creeped out about it all.

--karen

So I usually almost never watch TV...

2006-03-26T21:44:00.000-06:00

but it's on right now while I'm writing and screwing around on the internet, and I'm too lazy to change the channel or turn it off. So right now I'm half paying attention to an episode of "The L Word," and I feel compelled to speak.

I love and support the gay community, and I think it's time for the gay community to RISE UP against overly earnest, simplistic, preachy cable TV dramas! I mean, I guess it's cool that their hearts are clearly in the right place, and I'm sure they're breaking a lot of ground by exposing America to explicit make-out scenes (even though all the characters are model hot), but let's be honest, it is bad, bad, bad, bad, bad!!! "We're going to go to Canada to get married, and look! my family conquered their own prejudice and showed up and look! we've brought in special guests to rap about oral sex! and one character vows to discuss her feelings! and....oh shit, the girl just got stood up at the altar...uh...okay, maybe I'll stick it out to the end...damn you, trashy terrible television!!!"

--karen

I guess I just don't adjust to change well...

2006-03-22T11:41:00.000-06:00

Is there anyone else out there who hates Yahoo's new home page? Christ, I can't find a thing I want on there now.

I really wish I had something interesting to blog about. I am currently suffering under the thumb of our absolute worst client, and work is piling up here, as always.

Meanwhile, the husband and I have got our trip to San Diego booked in May! Jesus, I can't wait. Current itinerary: go to a bunch of Cubs-Padres games, look at some pandas, let Matt's favorite high school buddy subtly persuade me to get totally smashed every night...

--karen

I am all for...

2006-03-16T09:06:00.000-06:00

academic endeavors of all types, but man, this has to be one boring contest to judge:

SALEM, Va. - A high school student Tuesday recited 8,784 digits of Pi — the non-repeating and non-terminating decimal — likely placing him among the top Pi-reciters in the world.

I can beat that right here.

3.14...uhhhhh...1...ummmm...niner...

--karen

The perils of insomnia...

2006-03-15T11:58:00.000-06:00

include being woken up by one's coworker at 11 freaking a.m.!!! My body is normally quite tolerant of my insistance upon sleeping only four or five hours a night, but not today. Betrayed by my fingers and my unconscious brain, I turned off the alarm and probably would have been out cold until 1 at least if someone hadn't *noticed* my absence. It brings to mind that urban legend of the man who dies in his cubicle and is not noticed until two weeks later when people are looking for their paychecks from him.

Thanks to my assistant, The Minion, for continuing to press the matter. "Did you try calling her at home?"

--karen

At long last...a Happy Insomniac Update!

2006-03-15T02:11:00.000-06:00

Hey everyone! I never thought I'd find a spare moment to post something new, but I've got a review of The Libertine, and finally--finally!--I have finished up my series about angst-filled, melodramatic, sexually frustrated 20-somethings who do nothing of any importance. This last installment, "Full Circle", can be found here.

I kind of posted the other stories in this series haphazardly, but if you're so inclined to read the rest, I'd recommend you tackling them in this order: Dignity Is Highly Overrated; The Third Time in a Month; Back on the Chain Gang; The Best Kind of Pain; Explication; Chewing Ice Cubes; Black Ice; Full Circle.

Enjoy!

--karen

An Open Letter to the Friends I Have Been Ignoring...

2006-03-09T09:38:00.000-06:00

Hi everyone,

I'm still alive, and I still love you. Work has been sucking my will to live lately, and when I get home I'm comatose. You can probably best reach me on email...thank you for your patience during this crunch period. I'm ready to go postal here.

Sincerely,

Karen Gsteiger

I don't know about you...

2006-03-08T03:12:00.000-06:00

but our so-called "national dialogue" on abortion is fucking creeping me out:

During a segment [on the Jim Lehrer show] about South Dakota's bill to ban most abortions, which offers no exceptions for cases of rape or incest unless the pregnant woman's life is in danger, state Sen. Bill Napoli (R) was asked if he could conceive of a scenario in which the exception might be invoked. Indeed he could. "A real-life description to me would be a rape victim, brutally raped, savaged," he said. "The girl was a virgin. She was religious. She planned on saving her virginity until she was married. She was brutalized and raped, sodomized as bad as you can possibly make it, and is impregnated. I mean, that girl could be so messed up, physically and psychologically, that carrying that child could very well threaten her life."

Bleeccccccchhhhhhhhhhh. So, ladies of South Dakota, as long as you can make your circumstances sound sufficiently salacious and/or titillating, you might be allowed an abortion. You know, as long as you were a "good girl" before you wound up pregnant.

Look, for God's sake, people. It's really simple.

If you don't believe in abortion, DON'T HAVE ONE. There. Your religious beliefs have not been compromised, and you're not making major life decisions for anyone else. I'm not ever planning to have one. But then I don't presume to speak for women who find themselves in the horrific position of having an unwanted pregnancy, including those pure little religious virgins who have been "sodomized as bad as you can possibly make it."

Can someone please explain to me what's so fucking scary about fucking vaginas that women have to be so closely controlled and legislated? Imagine some state senator trying to set the rules on your urology/proctology appointment...or any other doctor's appointment, for that matter. "Well, a real life description to me would be a completely law-abiding man who was imprisoned unjustly--framed!--and then sodomized as bad as you can possibly make it by his cellmate, Bubba..."

--karen

Thank goodness...

2006-03-06T03:37:00.000-06:00

I had friends over to watch the Oscars with me because they couldn't have been more dull this year. No interesting dresses...no fabulous jewelry...no memorable speeches...why even bother televising them?

I was a little concerned that Jon Stewart was going to choke as Oscar host, but I found him to be genuinely enjoyable. The faux mudslinging political ads for "Best Actress" were absolutely hysterical.

I was happy to see Philip Seymour Hoffman and Reese Witherspoon win for Capote and Walk the Line, respectively. Brokeback Mountain wasn't my favorite movie of the year, but I don't begrudge the Oscars it won, either. Regardless of its victories, including "Best Picture," Crash looks dreadful, and I have no desire to see it. The most interesting win was definitely "Hard Out Here for a Pimp" for Hustle & Flow, and the interpretive dance that accompanied it was just too hilarious. (Awwww, poor pimps. It's rough living off someone else's sexual labor, I know. Although it is a management skill, I guess, and I've learned that managing a Minion at work ain't easy. I have to review her work all the time, which isn't always much of a timesaver for me. But I digress...)

Despite the "meh" quality of the Academy Awards this year, my impromptu Oscar party was a success with the return of the ever-popular chocolate fondue fountain!

--karen

It's probably a good thing...

2006-03-02T12:08:00.000-06:00

that Matt and I stopped ordering Domino's pizza. Our boycott originated with a nasty bout of food poisoning for poor Matt, but in any case, I'm glad to see my money not going to this cause:

If Domino's Pizza magnate Thomas S. Monaghan has his way, then the new town of Ave Maria will be governed by strict Catholic principles. The pharmacies won't carry birth control. The cable channels won't show porn. And doctors and clinics will be forbidden from providing abortions. Monaghan insists that the plan for Ave Maria is "God's will," and he is bankrolling it to the tune of $250 million.

According to the Associated Press, the town, about 25 miles east of Naples, is being built around Ave Maria University, the first Catholic University to open in the U.S. in 40 years. It will be set on 5,000 acres with a "European-inspired" town center and a "massive" church that will sport a 65-foot crucifix, the largest one in the nation.

Yikes! You know, the Catholic church governs more than just sex. Will Holy Day of Obligation Mass attendance be enforced? Will you be forbidden by town ordinance to snack on Ash Wednesday? Will they have special town employees to assess whether you are in a proper state of grace to receive the Eucharist? Will tithing be turned into a town tax? Will all property owners be required to bury a statue of St. Joseph upside-down in their front yards before attempting to sell their homes? I used to be Roman Catholic, so I once enjoyed all of these traditions. They have value and a place in the lives of Catholics. I just don't know that the local government should get so...involved, this being the United States of America and all and not, say, Renaissance Italy under the Borgias.

--karen

P.S. And what is it with the weird themed communities in Florida?
P.P.S. I just read that Monaghan sold Domino's pizza a while ago...like 1998 or something. So technically your pizza money wouldn't fund this Heaven's Gated community. Still, my husband totally got food poisoning from them this one time...

Well, if this is true...

2006-03-01T13:20:00.000-06:00

then what a relief! For a second there, I thought I had traveled about 50 years backwards in time. Except somehow I was still able to procrastinate all day on the Internet.

(BREAKING 1:03 p.m. -- A Cook County judge today backed off from his threat to send a woman to jail if she refused to view a videotape of her alleged rape, CLTV reported. In court today, Judge Kerry Kennedy ruled the witness can continue her testimony without viewing the tape, CLTV reported. He also refused a defense request to dismiss the charges against the suburban man accused of sexually assaulting her....more.)

--karen

I am still beside myself...

2006-03-01T10:39:00.000-06:00

over the story of the rape victim being forced to watch the video of her alleged assault in court, but the fact that this story is attracting near-unanimous outrage restores my faith in humanity slightly...

And in other irritating news...

2006-03-01T01:35:00.000-06:00

Ann Coulter, McCarthyist hack and misogynist, befouled my beautiful undergrad campus recently with her presence:

Conservative author Ann Coulter drew a large crowd to the IU Auditorium Thursday night. More than 2,500 of the auditorium's 3,200 seats were full, but that number dwindled throughout her speech as many students were ejected for disruptions and others simply walked out after certain comments. Coulter, author of such books as "How to Talk to a Liberal (If You Must)" and "Slander: Liberal Lies About the American Right," gave a speech titled "Liberals Are Wrong About Everything."

I can't decide what's my favorite part of this story--Ann being her usual toxic self or the hilarious attempted justification of her remarks from the IU College Republicans president:

During her question-and-answer session, Coulter responded to both fans and protesters. One comment that drew strong audience reactions came from a young man who asked her if she didn't like Democrats, wouldn't it just be better to have a dictatorship? Coulter responded with a jab at the way the student talked. "You don't want the Republicans in power, does that mean you want a dictatorship, gay boy?" she said. IU College Republicans President Shane Kennedy defended Coulter's comments by stressing that the speech was for entertainment and attendees should have expected Coulter to say controversial comments. "I think the guy could have been more respectful to her," he said. "I mean, we already know that she was going to be controversial and she was just saying what people were thinking. If you are going to talk like you are gay, then Ann Coulter is going to call you gay. Of course, she said it in a spiteful tone, but it was expected."

The immortal words of Outkast come to mind in this situation, "She's the reason for the word 'bitch'." (And I may be a feminist, but I will call a xenophobic bitch a bitch.)

In the end, as supremely annoying as she may be, she's not worth getting all exercised over, as various student groups will do in their humorless way in the coming weeks. She's like a one-woman circus, and her biggest fear is being ignored. Too bad the Union Board decided to spend good money on hauling her shrill, hysterical ass to Bloomington.

--karen

Arrrrrrghhhhhhhhrrrrhhhhhhh!

2006-03-01T00:17:00.000-06:00

I can't fucking believe this. This fucking country!

Alleged rape victim threatened with jail

A Naperville woman who on Tuesday refused a judge's order to view a videotape of her alleged rape could be jailed on a contempt of court charge if she does not change her mind Wednesday, and the judge is considering a request to drop sexual assault charges against the Burr Ridge man on trial.

Maybe I'm just sensitive about this, but I can't even make it through a fictional rape scene in a movie. Call me crazy, but I wouldn't especially want to view my personal sexual assault in a courtroom either.

I remember when this case broke a few years ago; it's your typical horror story of a girl getting drunk at a party, passing out, getting (allegedly) raped by a few people while unconscious (or semi-conscious, depending on what's actually on the tape), and then waking up to find herself naked with (and this is really nice) derogatory words written on her body. Oh, and they videotaped it. It seemed pretty cut and dry at the time, but apparently, it's simply impossible for the defendants to be tried without forcing this woman to very graphically relive her (alleged) attack. They can't, oh, ask her verbal questions or anything like they did for an hour today. They can't show the jury portions of the videotape without forcing her to see it too. Never mind that she says that she doesn't remember anything from that night anyway.

Oh, but according to the prosecutor, apparently one of the guys on the videotape makes this astute observation:

"This (expletive) doesn't look like she's having any fun," he quotes one of the men saying on the tape.

Are they planning to apply this same standard to all victims of sexual assault who are unlucky enough to be in the presence of a camera? If the victim were a little girl, would it be absolutely necessary for her to watch the video and answer questions?

Look, I know that false accusations of rape are very serious, and these things have to be thoroughly investigated and tried, but talk about being raped by the justice system all over again.

I know that this would make me want to rush out and get the police involved if I were attacked.

We've come a long way, baby!

Fucking hell.

--karen

P.S. Girls, you still afraid to call yourselves feminists? This, plus the near-total abortion ban in South Dakota...welcome to Bush's America...whee!

I've made today...

2006-02-28T00:55:00.000-06:00

one of my heroic "check off everything on my unreasonable to-do list" days, and thus I can announce a Happy Insomniac update!

We've got all kinds of good haikus...in the midst of recovering from a nasty, nasty bug, Mandy brings us "The Halls Advanced Vapor Action Cycle." If you're so inclined, you can also read my "Cycle on My Troubling Lack of Ambition."

Also, because I was forced to view the new Harrison Ford film Firewall for my mother's birthday, I've got a review of that as well.

Hmmm, now what was that alarming sound I just heard in my apartment while I'm all alone? After finding a mouse in my kitchen one evening, I've got major vermin paranoia. Funny then, that I don't have a problem with pet rodents, like my dearest Rollo, who deserves some attention presently.

--karen

Oh, this is so sad...

2006-02-26T00:05:00.000-06:00

LOS ANGELES -
Darren McGavin, the husky, tough-talking actor who starred in several TV series, played a grouchy dad in the holiday classic "A Christmas Story" and had other strong roles in such films as "The Man with the Golden Arm" and "The Natural," died Saturday. He was 83.

Now as I am from Northwest Indiana, A Christmas Story means a lot to me. It's hard for me to even convey its significance. Northwest Indiana is, in general, a depressing area of the country. The pollution level is high, and ambitions generally run low. Defacto segregation is very much intact, and in fact, I would venture to guess that 85% of the kids from my hometown grew up with an open, casual racism, handed down to them by their white-flighting parents. But the majority of people I grew up with were nevertheless tough, loyal, blue-collar, extremely pragmatic, with very strong values. If you grow up in "The Region," chances are that you spend most of your life wanting to be somewhere else, yet you can't escape who you are and where you come from, and there's a certain nostalgia, a certain cameraderie that you feel having been a part of that community. Jean Shepherd, who wrote the book on which A Christmas Story is based (In God We Trust, All Others Pay Cash), had a way of making the Region a magical, funny place, and there's a lot about his Region that's still the same, even though he was growing up in Hammond about 50 years before I grew up in nearby Griffith. Nothing ever changes there, except when it does, and when it does, it makes you kind of sad, even if you spent half of your life hating it. Shepherd was a real inspiration to me, and it's too bad he passed on in 1999.

Anyway, back to Darren McGavin...I'm sorry about this post...I've had like three glasses of wine tonight, and I really should be lying in bed, eating french fries and watching the late-night rerun of the Olympics...

Darren McGavin is, to me, what really made A Christmas Story a true classic, along with Shepherd's narration. He truly embodied the perfect Northwest Indiana father--a lot of cursing and a lot of heart. I had always hoped to see him acting more, but I hope he was proud of being the best part of our generation's (funnier) version of It's a Wonderful Life.

Fun facts:

Jean Shepherd went to high school with and regularly golfed with my mom's next-door neighbor.
My hometown is mentioned in the blink of an eye in A Christmas Story. While Ralphie's dad is reading the paper at breakfast, he mentions a story about a man who swallowed a yo-yo..."Some clodhopper from Griffith, Indiana." We are immortalized!

Have a good weekend, folks!

--karen

Is this even in English?

2006-02-24T17:49:00.000-06:00

God bless the Sex Pistols, flipping off the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in a letter posted to a fanzine. Can anyone translate the middle portion of their missive?

"Next to the SEX-PISTOLS rock and roll and that hall of fame is a piss stain. Your museum. Urine in wine. Were not coming. Were not your monkey and so what? Fame at $25,000 if we paid for a table, or $15,000 to squeak up in the gallery, goes to a non-profit organisation, selling us a load of old famous. Congratulations. If you voted for us, hope you noted your reasons. Your anonymous as judges, but your still music industry people. Were not coming. Your not paying attention. Outside the shit-stem. is a real SEX PISTOL." [sic]

--karen

So today I'm swamped with work-related silliness...

2006-02-23T14:18:00.000-06:00

but I just had to point you to my LOL headline of the day:

Americans work more, seem to accomplish less

[whistling innocently] Oh, I don't know why that would be...

The picture that currently accompanies the article also depicts quite accurately what I tend to look like in the office.

Also, if the women's figure skating finals get spoiled for me by some goddamn news service, I'm going to lose my shit. I'm going to be quite bereft when the Winter Games end, but then it will be nice to get my life back again. You know, maybe even do some writing and shit.

--karen

I'm going to take a moment...

2006-02-20T12:17:00.000-06:00

to stick up for U.S. speedskater (and first African American male to win a gold in the Winter Olympics), Shani Davis.

The big controversy at the center of this (that is being gleefully fanned into a conflagration by NBC) is that Shani Davis refused to enter the men's team pursuit event (or whatever it's called), claiming that he wanted to focus on the individual events he'd been training for all year. Chad Hedrick was all up in arms about it and making a public stink about it. I suspect that his indignation had less to do with affronted patriotism as it did with his sense that Davis was personally thwarting his quest to win five gold medals. Although I personally would be happy to get the chance for an extra medal, if I were even able to keep my balance on skates, I can understand Davis's perspective. Why should he blow his energy and concentration and possibly risk injury just to get Hedrick another medal? If Shani Davis alone is the make-or-break factor of a team event, whose fault is that? His or that of the people who select the athletes who go to Turin?

So anyway, they were going back and forth with that all week long, and NBC, in the quest for ratings and attention and controversy, was happy to play it up.

After Shani Davis won the gold medal for the 1,000 meters, he gave a remarkably terse and bitter post-victory interview with an NBC reporter. Bob Costas was shocked--shocked!--that Davis could possibly be resentful at his medal-winning moment. Never mind the fact that all week long, Davis was being painted by NBC as being aloof and unpatriotic. "There are some who would call Davis SELFISH," would be a typical line from a Costas summary of the whole kerfuffle.

I say, NBC, fucking get over it. You pissed the guy off, and he's not likely to forget it any time soon. It's too bad that he reacted that way because it only feeds into their need for controversy and drama and because many Americans will view his attitude as arrogance, especially because [whispered] he's black. I personally don't see why every athlete has to be the perfect little Wheaties box cover, saying the same soundbytes with the same false modesty. Although I would probably play nice for the cameras in his position, I also wonder why he should be required to lick the shoes of the same media representatives who have made these Olympics difficult and distracting for him, at best? I will continue to root for Davis, not only because he can win, not only because he's a groundbreaking athlete, not only because he's from Chicago, but also because Hedrick comes off as the biggest douche, waving a flag to cover up his own self-absorption.

Who knew that speedskating would be bitchier than figure skating?

--karen

The other day...

2006-02-19T02:52:00.000-06:00

I had THE most unsettling hair appointment. I'm not usually a big talker during haircuts. In general, I like to be lost in my own thoughts while my scalp is massaged. But I don't mind chit-chatting. Awkward silence makes me uncomfortable too. But Friday afternoon, I was having my hair cut by The Grand Inquisitor. I swear, she asked me each and every one of the following questions. (And because she had my hair and a pair of scissors in her hand, I didn't want to alienate or offend her, so for the most part I cooperated with the interrogation):

--What high school did you go to?
--Are you married?
--Do you have any children?
--What town do your parents live in?
--Which parent had your red hair? [author's note: it's really more of a strawberry blonde]
--Oh, is your father not living?
--How did he die?
--Do you have any siblings?
--Does your brother have red hair?
--How tall are you?
--What's your shoe size?
--You have to get your clothes altered, don't you?
--Where do you live?
--[after receiving a rough description of the area] How much do you pay in rent?
--[after giving her a rough ballpark estimate] Why do you live there?
--What floor do you live on?
--How many times have you been here?
--[as though I hadn' t had a hair cut in three years] It's been a long time since your last haircut, huh?

UGH. The whole experience left me feeling rattled and anxious. Plus, I don't like being reminded how much of a compliant little wuss I am when challenged.

--karen

I've not paid a ton of attention...

2006-02-18T03:08:00.000-06:00

to the whole Muhammed cartoon controversy because it just says all kinds of depressing things about humanity.

But upon reading this headline (linked to above), I figured that I would compose some haikus on the matter:

At Least 10 Killed in Libya Cartoon Riot

People Don't Know How to Act, a haiku cycle by Karen Gsteiger

just because you have
the freedom to say something
doesn't mean you should.

but fucking cartoons
are no reason to slaughter
each other. jesus!

If I can watch...

2006-02-16T12:47:00.000-06:00

the finals of the men's figure skating without excessive bitching from my husband, I will be rooting for Johnny Weir. That little Rufus Wainwright lookalike is the bitchiest little diva on the ice, and I LOVE him. If he got to know me, we'd be B/F/F, I can just tell, even though he's always better dressed and better coifed than me.

Anyway, I found this article on Slate to be amusing:

Hail the Conquering Goofballs!
America's endearing Olympic misfits.

However, nobody reckoned with Johnny Weir.

This is quite possibly the single most eccentric American athlete since Dock Ellis came off LSD. Weir has already injected the word "princessy"—as in, "I get very princessy as far as travel is concerned"—into the vocabulary of the sporting press. He wears one red glove so as to represent the bill of the swan from which his performance music takes its name. After finishing second in the short program, 10 points behind Russian Evgeni Plushenko (which means that Plushenko can come out for the long program driving the Zamboni and still probably win the thing), Weir was asked if he was going to toss in a quad-jump in his final skate. He said it depended how he felt.

"I could very likely wake up feeling horrible like Nick Nolte's mug shot and there will be no quad."

Freaking Nick Nolte's mug shot?

Wow.

It was at that moment that I felt a pang of sympathy for those of my sportswriting brethren who went to Italy straight off the manufactured news of the Super Bowl. I mean, it's not easy going from Joey Porter playing the role of Joey Porter to somebody who wears a red glove, talks about his princessy taste in lodging, and drops Nick Nolte's mug shot analogically on your head before leaving with just the littlest shimmy-shake for the NBC cameras. Jesus God, Bill Cowher's jaw just dropped and killed six people.

Hmmm...I would estimate that the author of this article, Charles P. Pierce, doesn't have so many friends of the....homosexual persuasion. (Although if this Myspace is genuine, Johnny classifies himself as bi.) So he's bi and reads The Smoking Gun or Gawker, big freaking deal. That doesn't make him the Wacko Jacko of Sport.

Doncha just love Brokeback America? It's so nice to see people try to come to terms with these things. Anyway, go Johnny! And please wear that adorable little CCCP jacket!!!

--karen

LOL...

2006-02-15T12:03:00.000-06:00

Well, I wasn't expecting him to take on Oprah:

Cheney to Break Silence in Fox Interview

In the meantime, all you conspiracy theorists who believe that there's more to Cheney's shooting story than we've been told? NO SHIT.

--karen

Seriously...

2006-02-13T20:46:00.000-06:00

I've had nothing good to report as of late. I'm all behind on everything at work, but I'd rather watch the Olympics. Unless there are impeachment hearings for everyone in the Bush administration, current events are too depressing for comment.

Defamer knocked one out of the ballpark with this observation, though:

It’s an interesting juxtaposition: Dick Cheney can blow his hunting partner away, and the official White House reaction falls somewhere along the lines of, “Yeah, bummer…But, you know, Vice Presidential shit happens,” but when Britney Spears is photographed driving with her baby in her lap, the Transportation Secretary uses the rather well-timed mishap to crown an honorary villain for his new child car seat safety campaign:

Funny thing about Britney Spears...when I was little, my mom (and everyone else's mom) would hold me on her lap in the front seat of the car, without a seatbelt even. I mean, yeah, it was dangerous, but today, they'd practically be prosecuted for a federal crime. Still, we all know better nowadays, so don't let your baby get creamed by an airbag.

--karen

Breaking news...

2006-02-07T15:40:00.000-06:00

Some of you may be disappointed, but I just learned the following:

CHICAGO - Eating less fat late in life failed to lower the risk of cancer and heart disease among older women, disappointing news for those who expected greater benefits from a healthy diet.

Okay, now here's my hypothesis: The great "They" have no idea what the fuck causes cancer. So everything in the world will at some point alternately cause or prevent cancer. So do, eat, drink, or have sex with whatever you want. We'll all wind up in the oncology unit for whatever fucking reason.

(Smoking is still bad for you, though.)

--karen

The Winter Olympics

2006-02-07T13:59:00.000-06:00

Are you excited about the Winter Olympics? I am. I normally could give a shit about any given sporting event, but I love, love, love the Olympics--both summer and winter. I plan to be glued to the TV whenever possible until Feb. 26th.

Funny enough, my husband, who is normally content to watch any given sporting event, never really gets into the Olympics. But that's why we have cable in both the bedroom and the living room.

I am, however, a little disappointed to learn the following:

Athletes give village thumbs down

TURIN (Reuters) - The Olympic athletes' villages were given a big thumbs down by many leading competitors at the Winter Games on Tuesday.

The article goes on to describe how many of the more prominent athletes are arranging their own accommodations. This ruins my mental image of the Olympic Village as some enclave of hot, sweaty, international, athletic sex. If you can't live in cramped quarters, competitively screwing all of your buff and toned medal-winning neighbors, why even go????

--karen

New Happy Insomniac Update!

2006-02-05T22:29:00.000-06:00

Well, thanks to the veritable gold rush of hits that The Discovery Channel has provided for me with their airing of Grizzly Man, I think it's as good of a time as any to update Happy Insomniac.

So this time, we've got a new short story from Sam Romano, "Late Bloomer." I, ever the Terry Gilliam devotee, am previewing his latest movie, Tideland, in a way by previewing the novel of the same name upon which it was based. (A book review, to make a long story short.)

I'm also happy to present a new short snippet of my long-ish story, "The Inheritance. " Part III can be found here.

Thanks for reading!

--karen

LOL...

2006-02-04T03:32:00.000-06:00

To expand a bit on a point I made below:

So earlier tonight (well, yesterday, really), The Discovery Channel aired the television premiere of Grizzly Man, Werner Herzog's acclaimed documentary about Timothy Treadwell. I watched it and would probably be inclined to review it; however, I feel like I've already covered that issue, and it was hard to really get into the movie with commercial breaks nearly every two minutes.

Meanwhile, 50% of my Happy Insomniac hits in the last two days (and there are a bunch of pages to randomly choose from) have arisen from the following keywords: Timothy Treadwell autopsy, Tim Treadwell's autopsy, Timothy Treadwell death sounds, Treadwell's autopsy, Treadwell's mauling sounds, treadwell bear autopsy, Nick Jans Treadwell autopsy, Huguenard mauling text, Tim Treadwell, autopsy.

You morbid, morbid fuckers! Oh, and feel free to browse the rest of the site.

--karen

Random notes...

2006-01-31T09:57:00.000-06:00

"Gene Simmons" offered my Happy Insomniac email account a deal on software.
I have been suffering this morning with server problems at work. I hate being cut off from the outside world.
The majority of people find Happy Insomniac by searching for information on Timothy Treadwell's autopsy. I'm not sure how I feel about that.
Also, the Oscar nominees this year couldn't possibly be more dull. So far, my favorite movie has been Capote, but I have a feeling it will be snubbed. I still mean to go see Walk the Line, as I've heard good things about it universally, but until then, I can't really comment. The animated feature nominees (Howl's Moving Castle, The Corpse Bride, and Wallace and Gromit in the Curse of the Were-Rabbit) is probably the hottest competition, in my opinion. The best original song nominees couldn't be any less inspiring, but maybe I'd feel differently had I seen any of those movies. King Kong was kind of ignored by the academy, but I think we're all ready to move on from the Peter Jackson lovefest. And I think that March of the Penguins should win for best feature-length documentary (or whatever the category is called) not just because I love penguins but because of the arduous nature of filming it. Overall, I have no passionate feelings about this year's ceremonies, just like Brokeback Mountain left me without passionate feelings.
It's not easy to make the bullet function in Blogger conform to my desires.

--karen

Brief political moment...

2006-01-31T02:34:00.000-06:00

Okay, you know, I like reading hemorrhaging-heart liberal sites like Daily Kos, but when they start piling on the gloom-n-doom, it leaves me with a sense of "Oh, Jesus Christ, come on!" Example: as you may know, the Senate voted today on cloture to end the debate about Samuel Alito's nomination to the Supreme Court. If there were a time for a filibuster, it was now, and that effort died today. So Alito is basically in. Now, I'm certainly not this guy's biggest fan...for example, call me crazy, but I don't think I should have to obtain my husband's permission to have a medical procedure performed on MY body. So I'm not happy about Bush packing the Supreme Court with far-right conservatives, but you read the comments on a site like Kos, and oh my God, it's the end of the world!!!!!!! I can't even count the number of "It's the end of the Republic!" laments I've just read. Or pronouncements of this brilliant strategy, "I'm never voting for a Democrat again!"

Look, people, after the election of 2004, we have to face some facts. It was a big election...there was a lot riding on that one, and we knew that in advance. There's a reason I cried like a baby for three days after Kerry conceded. And the Supreme Court was one of those things that was at stake. But when the American public, in its infinite wisdom, hands over all legislative and executive power to one party, that party is going to do things to perpetuate its power. I mean, when you've got solid Republican control of the Senate, how far is a filibuster going to go, really? I'm glad that Durbin and Obama voted no on cloture, but when it comes to something like a Supreme Court vacancy, it's nothing more than a gesture. And what would prevent Bush from nominating someone worse? This could spiral all the way down. We just have to accept the fact that the voters in the red states have sodomized our fucking form of government to the point where the president--and the most corrupt and incompetent president I have ever seen, incidentally--is completely unchecked. Now, this could change THIS YEAR if we stop rending our garments and wailing in the streets. But if you're going to sulk like Achilles and fucking boycott the Democrats, then yeah, we will be living in "And to the Republicans, for which we stand..."

Seriously, this is why liberals never get anywhere anymore. Pull yourselves fucking together, people! God!

--karen

Oh God!

2006-01-30T15:05:00.000-06:00

God forbid I ever have to date again. Lurking men, this isn't true, is it??? (Stolen shamelessly...I mean, quoted from Salon.)

Funny women a turnoff for most men

We all know men are intimidated by smart women. Now there's proof that they're threatened by funny women, too. A study published this week in the scientific journal Evolution and Human Behavior claims that while men might appreciate witty women, they don't want long-term relationships with them. Why? Because "men see being funny as a male thing," Rod Martin, author of study, told the Independent.

The study, based on interviews with hundreds of men and women in their 20s, found that one-half of the men did not want a partner with a sense of humor.

"The idea that men are more interested in having an audience rather than sharing banter doesn't really surprise me," British comedian Meera Syal told the Independent. "Women see men with a sense of humor as dangerous and sexy, while men see it as threatening. Basically, what it comes down to is that humor is a mark of intelligence."

Not surprisingly, the study found that men were willing to put aside their prejudice against clever women for hookups and short-term flings. So funny ladies, if you're looking for more than a one-night stand, just keep your mouth shut and laugh at whatever he says.

--karen

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

2006-01-27T13:44:00.000-06:00

I promise, this will be my last James Frey post. Unless something else about him pisses me off.

What is with everyone on the internet now feeling *sorry* for Frey? Just because he got dressed down by Oprah? I believe he callously and cynically passed off "fiction" or, to be charitable, "creative nonfiction" as nonfiction, then shamelessly promoted the hell out of it, while knocking other writers (like Johnathan Safran Foer and Dave Eggers, as I quoted earlier) and putting himself on a pedistal along with the confirmed Great American Authors. (Note: while I haven't read his book, I did read quite a bit of the shameless promotion when the book came out.) He promoted himself to be some kind of fearless purveyor of The Truth while not being straight with his readers about what actually happened to him. It doesn't take much to put in a note at the beginning that informs readers that some names and events have been altered. I can understand his desire to disguise some of the people he's writing about, but would it kill him to let his readers know that? Also, all of the things he has fictionalized don't seem to protect other people as it makes him look like a badass survivor.

Earlier, I had posted a reflection on the questions that are being asked of Augusten Burroughs and his biography. I think those questions will intensify due to this overblown controversy. At the time, it seemed to me that Burroughs was accused of dishonesty because he was writing about events in a way that he could not possibly have remembered it--including snippets of unmemorable dialogue, for example. I wrote this huge post describing how one could essentially tell the truth while being more creative with certain details. If I described the day my father died, I would describe the day as best as I could remember it, and if I didn't have a tape recording of precisely what was said, big deal. But I think that if you're going to write nonfiction with any kind of integrity, you have to stay true to that recollection. I remember my mother's friend trying to tell me what happened that morning. If I had changed her dialogue from "Your father passed away," to "Your dad's dead, and he deserved what he got, and someday you'll get yours too," well, that might be more dramatic but that would be a lie. You know if you've spent 87 days in prison vs. 5 hours. If you've had a root canal with novocaine vs. a root canal without novocaine, you know. It's one thing to take a stab recollecting events you may be too wasted to remember clearly, but I think one can push it too far. And I said this before, but I don't think I emphasized it enough: if it turns out that Augusten Burroughs made up the more salacious details of his childhood, he should get the same kind of public dressing-down that Frey did. Just because I read Burroughs' books and liked them doesn't give him some kind of free pass to abuse the "memoir" genre. I don't really care if he ate a steak with his friend/quasi-sister vs. a lobster in a dinner scene or if he made up some dialogue with his pedophile boyfriend to give us the gist of their interactions together, but if he had never been abused in his life or never even met the pedophile he claims to have had a relationship with, then he's pushed it too far.

In some respects, I enjoy a good lie better than I enjoy boring truth. I often say that the truth is highly overrated. So I guess I shouldn't necessarily jump on the Frey-bashing, but Jesus Christ, people. If a writer gets caught telling a big-ass lie that made him/her a lot of money and brought him/her considerable fame, why should that writer get my sympathy when a talk-show empress calls him/her out on it?

He brought all this shit on himself, and he's getting more publicity while he's at it.

--karen

The deep quaking beneath your feet...

2006-01-26T13:24:00.000-06:00

signifies the awakening of Angry Oprah. As I suspected, she is none too pleased to have discovered that more and more harrowing details from James Frey's A Million Little Pieces are being revealed as exaggerated or fictional.

She claims to be duped and embarrassed, but really, no one loses here. Frey's book, as a commenter on Gawker notes, will remain a best-seller because of the controversy, and Oprah gets to exercise some outrage. Sure, Frey comes off looking like a douche, but hell, he looked like a douche well before this:

"I don't give a fuck what Jonathan Safran whatever-his-name does or what David Foster Wallace does. I don't give a fuck what any of those people do. I don't hang out with them, I'm not friends with them, I'm not part of the literati." Don't even get him started on Dave Eggers. "A book that I thought was mediocre was being hailed as the best book written by the best writer of my generation. Fuck that. And fuck him and fuck anybody who says that. I don't give a fuck what they think about me. I'm going to try to write the best book of my generation and I'm going to try to be the best writer."

In fact, I'm surprised that his fabrications didn't come to light before now, considering that the book was published with considerable fanfare and promotion in 2003.

Meanwhile, being a dead author doesn't protect you from contemporary controversy, it seems.

--karen

Dutifully reporting...

2006-01-25T23:35:00.000-06:00

a Happy Insomniac update.

Some good stuff I've been sitting on for a while: Sam has written us a new essay, entitled "The Flea of Love: The Mix Tape."

Meanwhile, I have some new fiction (hooray) and a hastily written and long overdue review of Brokeback Mountain.

And maybe someday I'll actually write a real blog entry...

--karen

Bad blogger rides again...

2006-01-24T09:16:00.000-06:00

My litany of excuses:

1) I had the flu for a while, which prevented me from doing anything other than lie on the living room floor and watch DVDs for hours on end.
2) Work has been pretty crazy, but it's going to be crazy until May at least, so I had better get used to it and write anyway.
3) PMS has turned me into an absolute lunatic the past week, and honestly, you wouldn't want to read the products of *that*.
4) Lazy, lazy, lazy, lazy girl, and I'm not all that sorry about it.

But the good news is that there will be an HI update soon...and apparently, Bobcat Goldthwait has made some bestiality love story.

--karen

I suppose, as someone who purports to be into the whole "literary" scene...

2006-01-16T12:26:00.000-06:00

I should have an opinion on the latest two literary uproars, namely the alleged million little fabrications of James Frey in his "memoir" and the fact that the people behind the nonexistant "author" JT Leroy are deceitful above all things. I've been talking these stories up and down with a lot of people, so forgive me if this winds up being a rather telegraphic blog entry.

I don't so much feel betrayal as a reader (hell, I haven't read the work of either author), as much as I feel annoyance as a writer. No one can deny that harrowing autobiographies are hot shit in the publishing world. I could write any number of interesting lies and sell them as nonfiction, but I don't because I generally like to play by my personal ethical rules. And what does that get me in the end? Complete and utter obscurity. (Whether I could write interesting lies with enough talent to launch me to the same heights as Frey or Leroy is another issue.)

A good friend of mine, Eric, who had read Frey brought up an excellent point: the old school tough, crazy-ass writers, like Norman Mailer and Hunter S. Thompson, didn't have to make up the more sensational aspects of their biographies. They lived it.

I personally am sick of the 22-year-old novelist receiving a gazillion-dollar advance for his/her "life story." What life? No one should write a freaking memoir until the age of 67.

That being said, I find the JT Leroy scandal to be much more fascinating than Frey's sputtering defenses and Oprah's "emotional truth." "Leroy" (aka Laura Albert) played upon our society's strange fascination with victimization. Leroy claimed to have risen from the ashes of white trash dysfunction, with a sexually abusive childhood and a career in truck stop prostitution. He also claimed to be a recovered heroin addict infected with HIV who was obtaining a sex change. Despite some very odd personal habits (like appearing in public rarely and only in disguise), he was a celebrity and publishing world darling. Albert and her partner not only wrote the books but also hired someone to play the part of Leroy in public. I love the elaborate measures they took to keep up the facade, and I find the fact that they felt the need to exploit the sympathies of so many people in the name of art to be endlessly fascinating. I feel that it is pretty manipulative to cry rape and AIDS and child abuse, so I cannot condone this sort of hoax, but it does make for good reading when I should be doing actual work at the office.

Like right now.

--karen

Actually...

2006-01-11T20:22:00.000-06:00

as it turns out, I caught myself a nasty flu bug. My stomach has been turning itself inside out all day. I'm sure Steve could describe it in much better detail than me. ;)

Insomnia will recommence when I fully recover.

--karen

Bleah...

2006-01-10T09:31:00.000-06:00

chest cold. Or consumption. One of the two.

Another Happy Insomniac update!

2006-01-06T15:00:00.000-06:00

Well, thank God we have a wonderful new contributor, Matt Ambrose, because God knows I can't get my writing shit together.

So today we've got a new haiku, "Mother-in-Law", and a short story, "A Short Episode, Youth," both by Matt.

Enjoy! And have a good weekend, everyone...I'm skipping town again!

--karen

Whoo!

2006-01-01T13:47:00.000-06:00

So I'm dedicating part of today to perform the thrilling, spine-tingling task of...updating the copyright info on Happy Insomniac! I probably don't even have to, but I'm just anal that way.

In the meantime, here's a new movie review for you.

Have fun!

--karen

Well, you can't say I'm not committed...

2006-01-01T06:28:00.000-06:00

to more writing in the New Year. Good Lord, I feel like shit right now. I find that screwing around on the computer stabilizes me.

I'm not sure whether it was the odd combination of drinks that I consumed at my friends' fabulous New Year's--red and white wine, some raspberry-vodka kind of drink, champagne, and a hot toddy (?)--or the ill-advised Swiss Colony consumption afterwards, but my body is PISSED.

Anyway, before I attempt to reach some Elysian land of sleep, I just want to point out the following:

Knighthood is like sainthood. When you bestow it to everyone, you cheapen it for everyone now and everyone who came before.

Hopefully I'm now purging the last traces of 2005 badness. Here's to a much better '06 for everyone!

--karen

Bad blogger on vacation...

2005-12-28T09:59:00.000-06:00

Okay, so it's been a while since I've posted anything anywhere, but as I've said before, Christmas kicked my ass. And now I'm savoring my last vacation days of 2005, and it's been a bit of a struggle to put on a pair of pants every day, let alone *create* stuff. But never fear, I'm still alive and kicking, Happy Insomniac is still alive and kicking, and it is my new year's resolution to take the site in new directions. And you know how sacred and inviolable new year's resolutions are...

--karen

Ack!

2005-12-20T12:58:00.000-06:00

I'm so behind on everything...the flipping holidays, my workload, my writing...everything. I do at least have a break coming up, so hopefully Happy Insomniac won't get too dusty. I'm only one person, alas.

In the meantime, someone return Toga the Penguin!

Oh, and if President Bush isn't impeached for spying illegally on Americans, welcome to 1984. Hope your holidays are doubleplusgood!

--karen

Today's words are...

2005-12-19T09:25:00.000-06:00

Ennui
Discontent
Disgruntled
Mildly depressed
Repressed rage
Boredom
Despair

--karen

Concerns about my new sweater...

2005-12-12T13:26:00.000-06:00

Okay, so I have this new periwinkle-ish sweater that I got in an attempt to keep warm in the erratic climate of my office. It's nice and cozy, and it's a pretty color, but sometimes I worry that the collar is a little too Wrath of Khan. And no, I don't wear it all bare-chested with a big-ass medallion.

--karen

Bleeaaaah...

2005-12-12T09:11:00.000-06:00

today's just one of those days where I wake up and feel like toasted shit (emotionally).

Anyway, I just want to state that I think I'm going to have to boycott the useless remake of "The Producers." It's one thing to turn it into a play, but why see it as a movie when you've got the original with the unparalleled Zero Mostel and Gene Wilder? One of my favorite movies ever...

--karen

Bad blogger...

2005-12-09T21:22:00.000-06:00

I don't know about you, but Christmas is kicking my ass this year.

Plus, today during a routine checkup my doctor recommended me taking a test I've never had before to see if there's something wrong with a part of me that's never had problems before. I don't feel particularly sick, but of course, now that he's raised the question, I'm sitting here wondering, "Am I abnormally fatigued?" etc. etc. So I've got a little under two weeks to read up on webmd and obsess in a hypochondriacal manner.

--karen

Happy Insomniac Update...at long last!

2005-12-03T01:51:00.000-06:00

So I've been sitting on a Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire movie review for a while, and now that's up for all you Rowling junkies out there.

Also, I've got a new haiku cycle, Winter in Chicago for those of you who can't get enough of the old 5, 7, 5.

I think I'm going to make it a New Year's resolution to do more with the site in the coming year, including actually getting the hang of recording material (I suck at technological advances, I know), publicizing the site more, and trying to attract new authors. (If you'd like to submit, please send an email to happyinsomniaczine@yahoo.com). That and flossing more. I really need to floss more.

--karen

I'm sorry...I truly am...

2005-12-02T00:21:00.000-06:00

I never meant to be the "blogger who has a bug up her ass about Salon.com," but they just give me so much to play with.

Today Camille Paglia achieves unintentional hilarity (as usual) in her dissection of Madonna's new album, "Dancing as Fast as She Can."

At first I was intrigued by this article because I've seen recent publicity photos of Madonna, and she looks absolutely dreadful these days. I mean, I, in my light blue workout pants and dark red 10-year-old IU sweatshirt, am hardly anyone to criticize in regard to fashion, but she just seems so off these days, in a way that's truly unusual for her. The subtitle of Paglia's article seems to sum it up perfectly:

"Who is she becoming? The crazed Joan Crawford of 'Torch Song'? The pathetic Bette Davis in 'What Ever Happened to Baby Jane'? Charo?"

I must confess that I haven't heard anything off of her new album yet, but I do wish she'd enter a more dignified phase. I mean, not like Rod Stewart singing jazzy standards, but instead...I'm not sure what. She's supposed to be the genius of reinvention, after all. She can figure it out. Just as long as she drops her blonde ambitions to win the fucking Newberry Medal. She has caused me no end of pain with that dreadful children's book that shall go unnamed here.

In the meantime, Camile is just cracking my shit up with observations like the following:

"It wasn't just the clunky thump-thump-thump of drum machines, as hard-rock acolytes contemptuously dismissed it. In a 1991 cover story on Madonna for London's Sunday Independent Review, I described disco as 'a dark, grand Dionysian music with roots in African earth-cult' -- a defense that seemed bizarre because disco had yet to achieve academic legitimacy (which arrived in the '90s as more writers embraced popular gay history)."

Camille Paglia = intellectual hero of disco. Who knew?

[Re: Madonna] "And why does every artistic venture have to be crushed by streamrolling promotional gimmickry (like the depressingly literalist linkage of 'Hung Up' to a cellphone company)?"

Awww...poor Camille, wounded naif. She's breaking my heart, like Ralphie in A Christmas Story realizing that his eagerly awaited Little Orphan Annie decoder ring is just "a crummy commercial."

Okay, at what point was Madonna not about steamrolling promotional gimmickry? Oy.

Finally, this, my favorite quote from the piece, may go without comment:

"That's not what we got -- though you'd never know it from the gushing reviews, which applauded the CD for achieving Madonna's purported aim of making people dance. My blood boiled at this insulting reduction of dance music to gymnastics -- mere recreational aerobics. I for one do not dance to dance music; disco for me is a lofty metaphysical mode that induces contemplation."

God bless you, Camille--you go on with your bad self.

--karen

Ugh...

2005-11-28T10:00:00.000-06:00

I've got just the tiniest headache on one side of my head...just enough to be annoying, and I've already taken Advil--only because I'm out of Tylenol Rapid Release. Have I mentioned that I'm a walking commercial for Rapid Release? Not to get too personal, but there are certain times of the month when I essentially have a headache for a week straight, and regular doses of painkillers keep the headache from blossoming into a full-blown migraine, and Rapid Release just happens to be my favorite.

Anyhoo, that's enough unpaid advertising on my part.

Well, I've not really done a lot with myself the past week or so. But then, it was Thanksgiving, so I don't think the rest of the nation was all that productive either. I was mostly occupied the past couple of weeks with The Client from Hell (don't even get me started) at work, but I think the worst is over--for now.

And Christ almighty, our apartment is a MESS. It was deteriorating to begin with, then Matt's parents are giving him everything from his childhood as they are moving to a smaller home, and we don't have enough room for the stuff that we already had, then I needed some time just to vegetate, then our laundry started to pile up, then I cooked dinner last night (shocking!) and managed to use about every dish in the house, which at the time of this writing, remain unwashed. I've said it before, but I do mean it this time, I think the EPA is going to have to step in.

In the meantime, I've been working on some fiction here and there, but it's all very piecemeal, and I have no idea when I'm going to be able to put something new up. If anyone cares, that is.

--karen

Am celebrating...

2005-11-21T03:39:00.000-06:00

the 29th anniversary of my birth in true insomniac fashion, while listening to NIN's "Still," an eagerly awaited Ebay purchase that arrived just in time. Tomorrow will be a busy day too...ugh.

So I spent the weekend at IU in Bloomington, my beloved alma mater. Matt and I went down with Nancy, who's been a close, close friend since third grade (!). We went to the IU-Purdue game (I can't believe I paid to watch that humiliating annihilation), did some tailgating, and hit the bars. OMG, either I forgot how intense the college party scene was or kids today just can't keep their shit together. I swear to God, by 9 p.m. everyone around us was either on the verge of puking or passing out or both. We started off at the Irish Lion, where I got the surefire hangover prevention treat, Celtic stew, and were seated just in front of a group of roaring drunks (alumni, this time)--you know, the adults who forgot how to use their "indoor voices," banging on the tables, shouting profanity at the top of their lungs, etc. Not that I'm not a big proponent of profanity, but generally, I like to keep the volume of my cursing below 11, especially in restaurants. Then we moved on to Kilroy's, a bar with yummy drinks that is most often bursting at the seams with annoying frat types, and there was this group of younger guys who could barely swallow the drinks they were inexplicably continuing to be served. They formed an impromptu mosh pit near our booth, fell down flat on their faces multiple times, and finally threw a glass, which shattered near someone else before they were *finally* kicked out. After we fled that hellhole, we seated ourselves at a teeny-tiny table to play "sink the Bismarck" at Nick's English Hut. We nearly died of shock when some other friends reported that there was an *hour-long line* to get into Nick's as we were finishing. Nick's?! You've got to be freaking kidding me! It's not some uber-swank "see and be seen" nightclub...it would be like waiting an hour for the freaking Red Lion in Lincoln Park. Finally, after that, the hardcore among us (Matt, me, and Nancy) headed to my very favorite Bloomington bar of all Bloomington bars, a refuge of peace and quiet among all the chaos, the place where (as I recall), I got my very first legal drink, Yogi's. It must be the grad student bar these days. A veritable oasis of civilization. May it never close its doors.

Like I said, the whole evening of debauchery made me wonder if I'm just getting old, but then I remembered that I was never really into the whole bar/party scene back in undergrad. You normally would never have caught me dead at Kilroy's on a Saturday night (and now I remember why). Still, it was wonderful to go back. I really miss my Bloomington life. Although there was a lot more development all over Indiana, the most important things did not change a bit. The Fine Arts Library was exactly as I left it, except for some reason, they replaced all the computers with fucking Macs. Too bad my old supervisor doesn't work there anymore, but she was always more into teaching and writing, so I hope she was able to spread her proverbial wings.

With all the boozing and great food (what I wouldn't do to transplant Laughing Planet burritos to Chicago), I think I gained about 900 pounds this weekend. It was all worth it, though. I'm hoping to go back for a basketball game sometime this winter. Hopefully it wouldn't be so athletically embarrassing.

--karen

So I'm not really looking for...

2005-11-17T03:40:00.000-06:00

a new job, despite the fact that I'm currently working with The Client from Hell, but I get these Monster updates in my inbox, so I always check to see what they're pushing. Today there was an ad for "Head Comedy Writer" for a local radio station, and I thought, "Well, that sounds fun." So I looked at the ad and saw that basically you would be required to be laugh-out-loud funny full-time. And I'm sorry, but that's a lot of pressure! 40 hours of work a week deadens me emotionally. Most of the time, I just want to zone out or mindlessly chat about celebrity gossip. I am well-qualified to be overtired and boring and ill-tempered 8.5 hours a day, but funny? I'd rather that not be a daily requirement.

--karen

The anonymous office perv speaks out...

2005-11-16T12:26:00.000-06:00

in favor of free speech in the workplace via Magnetic Poetry on office fridge:

"The use of repulsive language on this apparatus is essential."

I'm having ambivalent feelings about...

2005-11-14T11:53:00.000-06:00

Sarah Silverman at the moment. On the one hand, I do like her, and I'm a fan of offensive comedy (although not gross-out comedy) in general. On the other, she's on the cusp of being overexposed. Slate, in particular, has gone absolutely bonkers over her.

I kind of want to see Jesus Is Magic, her new concert film (which sounds weird in regards to a stand-up performance), but it would require a trip to Lakeview when I'm feeling criminally lazy, and I have this feeling that I'd be in the theater, and I'd be the only one busting out laughing at something grossly offensive and morally wrong.

Meanwhile, I so don't get her Jimmy Kimmel thing. I just don't.

--karen

Huzzah!

2005-11-14T01:11:00.000-06:00

Happy Insomniac update...some fiction, no less!

If you liked the first installment of The Inheritance, well, here's the second part...

--karen

Mini-review...

2005-11-13T19:45:00.000-06:00

And I do mean mini...

I just finished watching The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou on On-Demand. I dunno...I really liked all the inventive sea creatures and the aquamarine, but it was kinda boring. Bill Murray's trademark glumness did nothing for my mood, that's for damn sure. I do normally like Wes Anderson's aggressively quirky films, but this one lost me about halfway through. It got better towards the end, but overall, it earns a rating of "meh."

And the literary gauntlet is thrown...

2005-11-11T00:58:00.000-06:00

Holy shit, Priya Jain (who?) takes on Augusten Burroughs in Salon like he stole her prom date.

Some poison-pen excerpts follow:

Although he's only 40, Burroughs' life story seems to contain no end of salable anecdotes: After "Scissors," he published the follow-up memoir "Dry" (2003) and a collection of personal essays, "Magical Thinking" (2004); he writes a monthly autobiographical column for Details (his writing has also appeared in Salon) and frequently contributes to NPR's "Morning Edition." According to his Web site -- a vision of salesmanship that helpfully reminds you on every page that Burroughs is a "#1 BESTSELLING AUTHOR" -- he's also working on a collection of essays and a holiday book. All of this would be only vaguely interesting if Burroughs were regarded as simply a wildly popular mass-market hack. But Burroughs' memoirs consistently generate glowing reviews and flattering comparisons to David Sedaris' work. And yet, he is a terrible writer...

Burroughs' work, on the other hand, resembles less a mosaic construction than a coughed-up hairball: It's gross, primitive and smacks of something that needed to be released for the creator's own health, but really shouldn't have been shared with others. As dismal as his writing is as memoir, it would make for unforgivably awful, boring fiction that no one would bother to read, much less recommend...

So imagine this: What if Burroughs made it all up? What if he isn't the train wreck, the victim, the innocent bystander who overcame the odds? In late July, the surviving members of the family with whom Burroughs once lived, and who gave him the fucked-up childhood he writes about in "Scissors," filed a lawsuit against him alleging defamation, fraud, emotional distress and invasion of privacy. The Turcottes are claiming that most of "Scissors" is composed of Burroughs' "own bizarre, imagined scenarios and exaggerated descriptions," and, in addition to seeking unspecified monetary damages, they're asking that the book be reclassified as fiction...

Jain goes on from there and cites some specific examples of some questionable or problematic anecdotes in Burroughs's work, and I encourage you to read the whole article, but basically she is arguing that Burroughs's work, which describes some really painful episodes in his life, might be exaggerated or even invented and that she really, really, really hates his writing.

Jain appears to be one of those people who wants her nonfiction to be more of a convenience store surveillance camera than a literary object. If you're going to write an autobiography, it better have happened exactly as you write, or you're going to hell. She writes:

But could he really have recorded -- or worse, remembered -- such banal conversation as this? "'Well, I gotta go,' Hope said. 'Dad needs me at the office. We're behind on the insurance forms. See you guys later?' 'Yup. Catch you later,' Bookman said. Hope opened the front door to leave. 'Bye, Augusten. Have fun.' 'Okay, see ya.'"

The other side of the debate suggests that if you're writing about events long past, and you want to make it remotely interesting, you're going to have to fudge a bit, which Burroughs may have done--to what extent, I do not know. I think it's silly for me to try to argue, "oh, he was telling God's own truth" vs. "he's a lying bastard" because it's not as though I have the Romper Room mirror to discern What Really Went Down. Obviously, if Burroughs did make everything up, that's libelous and a betrayal of his readers. If he said that something happened when he was 10, and it really happened when he was five, I'm not sure that my faith is completely shattered.

Here are the two sides of the autobiography debate depicted as a traumatic event in my life.

"The Day My Dad Died" by Karen Gsteiger as Augusten Burroughs.

I was awakened by the sun at 8:30 a.m. on January 27, 1983. I was sleeping next to my mom during those dark days of the last stages of my dad's terminal cancer, so I was suprised to find myself alone upstairs, but I was in a cheerful mood nonetheless. I skipped downstairs and was surprised to find my living room full of people--friends of the family. My mom's friend, Kathy, sat me down on the couch. Her face was huge as she peered very closely in my eyes and said in a very serious tone:

"Your father passed away."

"What? What do you mean? Do you mean he died?"

"He passed away."

"Is he dead?"

"He passed away."

I don't remember anything else from that day.

The Day My Dad Died, by Karen Gsteiger as Priya Jain

Okay, it was definitely a January morning in 1983, although I always get my dad's death date confused with his birthday, so it was either the 23rd or the 27th. I think. As I recall, the sun was shining through the window when I woke up, so I was in a good mood. I was definitely sleeping upstairs with my mom during those dark days of the last stages of my dad's terminal cancer, so I was suprised to find myself alone. I skipped downstairs, and I know that my mom's friend Kathy was there, but I can't remember who else was, if anyone other than my immediate family. I'm pretty sure I was sitting on the couch when Kathy said something along the lines of, "Your dad passed away." Then a couple of times we went back and forth with me being all, "Did he die?" and she kept saying, "He passed away." But I don't really remember that conversation verbatim because I was five. And I don't remember anything else about that day either.

So, be honest, which account do you like better? Both versions are emotionally true. One is hung up with facts that I will never recall, and the other is not.

In Jain's article, she is constantly comparing Burroughs to David Sedaris, which, uh, yeah, there's no competition in my mind that Sedaris is the better author, but why does she not suspect him of recreating dialogue inaccurately or combining characters? She seems to think of him only as an author of fiction, but I'm sure there would be many upset readers if Sedaris were to say, "Yeah, everything in Naked? I made it all up." Or is it only because Sedaris's family does not take him to court that Jain trusts him implicitly?

(Note: I trust David Sedaris implicitly, and even if he did exaggerate things, I wouldn't really give a shit because I love him with all my heart.)

As for my opinion of Augusten Burroughs, I think he's a good writer, but he's not my favorite. Running with Scissors was publicized as being Sedaris-esque, but I think that happened because both authors are gay. I actually found Burroughs's childhood memoir to be super-depressing, with its descriptions of pedophilia and neglect. At the same time, I read it practically in one sitting. Same with Dry. A good book, but not the best I've ever read. And perhaps I am more impressed with his survival skills in a singularly fucked-up life than his actual writing style, but even so, that counts for something, right? Never having met him, I can't vouch for the complete accuracy of his work, but at the same time, I can imagine hypothetical abusers being none-too-happy with their depiction in a memoir. So who knows what really happened? In my opinion, that's for the court to decide and not so much for Priya Jain.

Still, it's a hell of a catfight, and I can't wait for the fallout.

I will say this in closing, though, as I think this is probably my longest blog entry ever. One of my creative idols, the late Graham Chapman, titled his autobiography, A Liar's Autobiography, Vol. VI, because it was his belief that the truth changes. He believed that what is true for you one day may not be true for you six years later because your perspective has changed. I think there's a lot of wisdom there.

--karen

Wow...

2005-11-10T03:00:00.000-06:00

Mark Morford on a rampage. And I couldn't agree more.

--karen