Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

This Person Exists

January 2, 2014

A guy wrote all of these things on his OKCupid profile and gave no reason to believe he wasn’t dead serious. I deleted a few things, but I didn’t add anything.

My self-summary
Live the life you have imagined! Take care of what you have. Laugh at yourself daily!

What I’m doing with my life
Trying to live every day as though it might be my last! Accomplishing my goals.

I spend a lot of time thinking about
How full the glass is, instead of how empty it is.

You should message me if
You love camping and long walks on the moonlit beach.

There is a “What I’m good at” category, but he forgot to mention his ability to speak entirely in clichés. Long walks on the beach. He really said it.

Well, hello!

February 24, 2013

Hi, Internet.

I’ve been away for a while. I actually did do some blogging, just not here. I was living in working in Amsterdam, Netherlands, and I kept a blog called Dam, Girl! about my adventures there. Now I’m back in LA for the time being and intend to resume posting here with some kind of frequency (kind TBD).

Reason Number Million and Ten Why I Need a Dog

October 16, 2012

“Sissy, do you want some yogurt???” I asked the cat in a hopeful voice.

To which she replied,


September 7, 2012
Precarious by BaddMinton
Precarious, a photo by BaddMinton on Flickr.

Simple Times

May 10, 2011

I went to dinner with my friend Lindsey the other night, and these words came out of my mouth, with genuine enthusiasm: “The most exciting things in my life right now are [the cat]’s haircut and our new vacuum cleaner.”

Unconscious Poet

May 4, 2011

I was organizing some papers last night when I came across a small, square note — I had woken up from a dream and scrawled it down so I’d remember, stuck the note in a pile of other stuff, and forgotten about it. Reading it now, I think it sounds like a poem, so here it is. This is exactly what I wrote on the paper:


big, tall black woman
in furry white snowsuit
2 white poodles she couldn’t control
She stole my jacket and denied it


April 18, 2011

So I guess the world is going to end next year, right? Isn’t that what they’re saying? My friend Jeremy and I were talking this weekend about it, and we figure the Mayans just got sick of writing, and that’s why their calendar ended in 2012. I mean, it has to end somewhere, right? Those Mayans had been working their asses off all day writing this calendar, and at some point, what I’m thinking is that one of them finally said, “OK, guys, let’s wrap it up for today. Happy hour at the pyramid next door starts at 4, and I still need to pick a few ears of maize before it gets too dark. We’ll pick up where we left off tomorrow.”

Then, when tomorrow came, there was something else more pressing on the agenda, like creating the first known written language, for example, and the calendar got pushed to the back burner.

But what if the world, totally coincidentally, does end next year? Holy accurate predictions, Batman! I guess, just in case, we should all try to have the best year ever.

Mystery Solved. Bunnies may now exhale.

February 22, 2011

One of my resolutions for 2011 is to renew my dedication to not buying products from companies that test any of their products or ingredients on animals. I used to be very strict about this, but in recent years have let myself slip, using such excuses as, “Ohhh, it’s 2010; I doubt anyone tests on animals anymore; it’s so outdated.”

However, when I revisited Peta’s lists of companies that do and do not test on animals, I was annoyed, to say the least, at the number of companies that still DO test on animals (even though it is, indeed, long-since outdated, unnessary, and not required by any law). Most appalling to me is that many PET FOOD companies torture DOGS in order to do things like put a “new and improved” label on their food. Blergh, it makes me sick. I hope one day those dogs get loose and run into the CEO’s office and bite them in the crotch and don’t let go. That’s what I’d do. (I mean, if I were a dog. As my human self, I probably wouldn’t bite anyone in the crotch, at least not literally. Maybe metaphorically.)

So anyway, in my quest to be a responsible and animal-loving consumer, I set out on a quest (read: sent an email) to find out if Bath and Body Works tested on animals. The wording on many of their products reads, “Finished product not tested on animals,” leading me to believe they were trying to be tricksters, and that their ingredients might be bunny and puppy tested. That would make me madder than if they hadn’t said anything at all, because you know, if you’re going to be evil, at least own up to it. But anyway, the results of my quest (emails) ended up being positive, which is happy news, because even though it’s not even my most favorite store, it is one of the three stores near my work, so by default, it is one of my three favorite stores near work.

Oh, and side note: just in case you’re unclear on what is involved in animal testing, it’s not just rabbits and mice sitting in a little salon getting their hair washed and nails polished. (“Hey, Louise, what you up to today? Want to sneak into Mr. MacGregor’s garden and nibble on some carrots?” “Aw, nah, it’s cool, I’m heading over to the Procter & Gamble lab to get my hair did.” “Aw, ok, girl, I’ll check you later.”) It’s pretty grizzly, and you can read about one common test here, if you have the stomach for it.

For your reading pleasure (pleasure being relative, of course) and purchasing knowledge, here is the email chain between Bath and Body Works and me. (I’ve changed the customer service people’s names. Obviously.)


Can you tell me if the ingredients in Bath and Body Works products are tested on animals? I saw your company listed on Peta’s "Does not test" list, but the wording on many of your packages suggests that the individual ingredients are indeed tested on animals. Either way, it’s confusing, so I’d like to hear it from the source.

Thank you for your prompt reply.

Best regards,

Dear Marcy,

Thank you for your email regarding our Animal Testing policy. We are happy to assist with your inquiry. At Bath and Body Works, we share the public’s concern about animal testing. Bath and Body Works does not conduct animal testing to substantiate the safety of our product. We support, advance, and utilize current alternative methods when evaluations are required.

Our products are not tested on animals. In addition, we require all of our suppliers to adhere to our no testing on animals policy for products supplied to us. This policy applies to every product that is produced, supplied or tested on behalf of Bath and Body Works, in both the United States and abroad.

Thank you for your interest in We hope you enjoy our products and look forward to serving you in the future.


Customer Service Specialist
Bath & Body Works Direct


Dear Person,

Thank you very much for your reply. Not to… ahem… beat a dead horse, but I’m still confused as to whether any of the ingredients used in Bath and Body Works are tested on animals, by anyone, on behalf of anyone. I’m not satisfied purchasing a product that contains any ingredient that has caused an animal to suffer, regardless of who ordered that testing. I think you’re telling me that indeed, no animals suffered in the making of any ingredient used in Bath and Body Works products, but I want to make absolutely sure I’m interpreting your reply correctly.

Maybe an easier way to ask would be to find out if Bath and Body Works adheres to the EU Cosmetics Directive:

Thank you kindly for your further attention to this matter.

Best regards,

Dear Marcy,

We appreciate you taking the time to write us in regards to our policies, services and products. We value your inquiry and your interest in Bath and Body Works and The White Barn Candle Co.

We want you to know how much we appreciate your insight on the wording of our Animal Testing policy listed on our labels. We will note your request to make it less confusing, but also want to take the time to explain why it is worded this way.

We want you to know that we believe all living creatures deserve respect and we would never think of testing any of our products on animals. Likewise, we don’t ask anyone who may be helping us develop or make our products to conduct these kinds of tests on our behalf.

At one time, we had stores in the United Kingdom as well as the United States. Under United Kingdom law, all labels on cosmetic and toiletry items must read, “This finished product not tested on animals.” As a convenience to our customers in both countries, we decided to have the same labels on all our products instead of keeping separate inventories for the UK and the US.

We hope this information has put to rest any concerns you may have had, and helps you enjoy all your favorites from Bath and Body Works. We will certainly take your comments to heart and will also forward them to our Executive Team for future consideration.

If we can be of any further assistance, please reply to this email or contact us at 1-800-395-1001, 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. EST, Monday through Friday.


Human McWorker
Customer Relations
Bath & Body Works


Dear Ms. McWorker,

Thank you very much for taking the time to reply to me so quickly and thoroughly. From now on, I will enjoy shopping at Bath and Body Works and will tell my friends that they may do the same, knowing that rabbits around the world would support such an endeavor. :)

Many Thanks,

Workday conversation

February 2, 2011

10:58 AM: Lindsay:–asking-price-just-69-999.html10:58 AM: Lindsay: WAAAAAAANT

10:59 AM: Marcy: What the frack!? Um, do you think a terrorist is NOT going to buy that and immediately stock it with missiles and start killing people??

11:01 AM: Lindsay: ‘thank you for your winning bid! we will ship your brand new harrier jet to your address at: broken down shack, outskirts of afghanistan border, middle of the mountains, next to the dead goat’ within 6-15 business days. It is FedEx deliver confirmationand fully insured

Green Shirt, Marjorie, Marie Hugs Jane

April 16, 2010

Hi Blob! Blob! OH MY GOSH, I seem to be incapable of typing “blgo” OH MY GOSHOHMYGOSH, I promise you, I’m really trying to type it correctly! B L O G. There. Phew.

It’s been a long time. I keep meaning to write, but it’s like the friend you haven’t talked to in months, and even though you really want to talk to them, you feel overwhelmed because you feel like you have SO much to catch up on. That’s kind of how I feel about this. But I’m just diving in, and instead of giving you some long-winded life update, I’m just going to tell you what’s going on now.

I’m sitting at my dining room table in my newest apartment (Mary and I moved again in March) and looking out the windows at the streets below (we’re on the 2nd floor). About 15 minutes ago, a guy in a green shirt walked by on the street that runs perpendicular to my street, and he reminded me of Kenneth from 30 Rock, which is why I noticed him. It wasn’t him, but anyway, he was carrying a manilla folder, and I wondered if he was on his way to some type of audition or interview and was glad it wasn’t me. Even though I should wish I were going to an audition, right at this very moment I’m tired and have a sinus headache and am happy to be sitting at my table looking out the window. So anyway, that was like 15 minutes ago, and just now, like one minute ago, he walked by on my street, still carrying the folder, but now carrying a water jug in each hand. What is he up to? What do y’all think he’s doing out there? The worst thing is, I’ll never really know.

Another thing that happened the other day while I was sitting here was that I saw on that same perpendicular street a girl who I at first thought might be this girl I kind of know who we’ll call Marjorie, because she had a similar haircut and distinctive style of dress. But it wasn’t her, BUT about half an hour later, old Marjorie really DID walk down that very same street. WHAAAT??

Here’s another thing: I was just writing an email to my sketch team, and I cut a sentence out, then decided to paste it back in — BUT, I guess I had maybe deleted it instead of cut it, because it wasn’t on the clipboard. What WAS on the clipboard and what I ended up pasting in was… well, I’ll see if you can guess. Here is the real email with the real sentence that I pasted:

Hey TSP Actors!

Last night at the writers’ meeting we discussed a new potential system of paying Kevin in which the writers would pay him for writers’ meetings, writers and actors would both pay him for the initial read-through, and then actors would pay him for the actors’ rehearsals. Would you all be ok with that? It seems like it would come out about even for all of us. Marie hugs Jane and gives her a bouquet of flowers.


Oh man, email hijinks, right?

Well, this has been a thoroughly weird blentry, but you’ve gotta just jump back on that horse. Except not literally. I’m done with horseback riding after a fateful “adventure” on the last horse I ever plan to ride. But that’s a story for another time.

The Spider Plant Saga – a.k.a. Peter and M.J.’s Not-So-Grand Adventure

December 27, 2009

Recently someone suggested I get some plants for my room. Since I value this person’s opinion and since I could always use an extra dose of Oxygen — hey, who couldn’t? — when my friends Mike and Rebecca offered me a peaked-looking plant in their living room window, I eagerly agreed. He was a spider plant, so I immediately named him Peter Parker and resolved to nurse him back to excellent health — this being opposite of my usual M.O. of taking perfectly healthy plants and killing them in record-breaking time.

I brought Peter home, watered him and left him in the sink overnight, and the very next day, instead of procrastinating for weeks, which again would have been the usual protocol, installed a hook into my bedroom ceiling, tied a pretty ribbon onto it, and hooked his pot onto the pretty ribbon, where he has been hanging for the last few days and at least in my imagination seems to be improving health-wise.

But tonight I got home and something unsettled me a little bit. Nothing even tangible, but something about his leaves gave me a very, very slight case of the willies. And this reminded me of why I didn’t already have a room full of plants, why I’ve never even purchased one single houseplant, at least not for myself. I will make no bones about it — plants are creepy! I look at Peter, and it’s like his leaves are tentacles lurching out at me, or maybe they’re strands of hair on the head of a tiny troll submerged in the dirt of the pot. Either way, there’s no escaping the fact that plants are alive, and just because they don’t speak doesn’t necessarily mean they aren’t plotting a coup against all animal life. It makes me shiver.

Mind you, I’ve never gotten anything but friendly vibes from Peter. I assume he must be grateful to me for rescuing him from the negligent parenting of my friends and giving him water, sunlight, and his own hook in the ceiling where he can swing merrily all day and observe goings-on from high up. I mean, he should be grateful! But plants need more than water, sunlight, and prime real estate, from what I’m told. Like animals, plants, I’m told, also need love. And folks, I’m just not sure I’m ready for that. I’m just not sure I’m ready.


Update: I wrote this about a year ago and didn’t post it for whatever reason. I’m pleased to announce Peter is still alive and has accompanied me to my new apartment (new as of last March). The bad news is, my plant-care habits have waned down to a level that keeps young Pete alive, but barely. I regret to admit that he is much less full than he was at his peak. (His health really did improve at my last house; I’m thinking it was all the sunlight. Oh, and the watering). In fact, about a third of him died altogether. There were about three sets of spriggles planted in his pot, and one set completely died. Also, he had a baby! Who died. Not sure how familiar you are with spider plants, but when they’re healthy, they form baby spider plants at the ends of their tentacles; and he did, and I intended to plant the baby and let her grow up and name her M.J., but alas, she died, and it’s all my fault. I did find her pretty creepy, but I didn’t mean to kill her. Sigh.


February 25, 2009

Guess what, Internet?

My sister is having a baby, and she just told me today that it’s a little boy, and they’re naming him Lucas, which I think is the most wonderful thing ever, and just now I was thinking about it in the bathroom at work and unconsciously began dancing around on my tiptoes, and then a woman came in and I had to pretend to be adjusting my hair like a civilized person.

There’s a Hole in the Bucket, Dear Liza, Dear Liza

December 4, 2008

My old friend Rebecca, a.k.a. The Feisty Tourist, had a post on her blog suggesting that her readers make bucket lists, like that old man movie with Jack Nicholson from a couple years ago. “Bucket list” meaning a list of things you want to accomplish before you die (kick the bucket). I don’t know why I’ve never done it before, but why the H not? Goals are always good. Here’s what I’ve got so far:

Attend the Kentucky Derby wearing a fabulous dress and hat.

Have a passionate make-out scene in the rain, just like in the movies but real.

Travel around the world, especially to Japan and New Zealand.

Ski in the alps and stay in a cute alpine chalet.

Learn to speak Spanish fluently.

Learn to meditate.

Visit New Orleans and Philadelphia to experience jazz, food, history, and brotherly love.

Go to the Sundance Film Festival to watch one of my own films.

Clarify my spiritual beliefs.

There! Now after a few short minutes, I’ve created all these things to look forward to! What would be on y’all’s lists?

Another Spider Story

November 1, 2008

Aaaaaahhhhhh, dudes, I was just in my bathroom in my underwear standing at the sink, and I felt something very light touching my back, and without panicking, I turned to look in the mirror, and there was a terrifying spider on my BARE BACK. He or she had climbed down his/her web from the ceiling, I’m deducing, and stopped to rest on my BACK!!! I shouted, “OH MY GOSH! OH MY GOSH!” Luckily s/he kept on moving down the web, and I was able to grab the web and move it away from me, and the spider went on the floor and I was able to look at him/her more closely, and s/he’s the kind with stripey legs and a picture of something on his/her back, and I left the scene and abandoned my task and came over here to tell you guys about it. I really don’t mind spiders that much; I don’t! I just really and truly do not want them on ME!


September 9, 2008

I was playing the guitar just now and noticing how my left pinky, when not in use, curls up into a gimpy little ball, and there’s nothing I can do about it. And it made me remember one time a year or so ago when I was playing the guitar for a boy I liked, and I’m all nervous and sweaty-palmed like, “This is it, I’d better be good so he’ll keep liking me and think I’m awesome,” and then I’m thinking, “Wow, this sounds really good; go me!” and I noticed that he was watching my hands and figured he was impressed by my fancy fingerwork and was probably falling in love with me because of it. But instead when I finished the song, all he said was, “Wow, you have really long fingers.” And suddenly instead of feeling proud I just felt embarrassed, because all along he’d just been sitting there mesmerized yet horrified by the car accident that was my comically long Jafar fingers: fingers that probably gave him nightmares at night; fingers that are attached to giant hands made more ridiculous by their juxtaposition with my teeny tiny wrists.

So I was thinking about that just now, and then I remembered a time long before, when I was in high school and visited a new friend’s house for the first time. The minute I stepped onto the big, sweeping porch (we’ll call it a “vast veranda” for effect), I was already feeling insecure, wishing he had never seen my little plain-jane house. He took me on a grand tour of the premises, ending at his room, which was pretty much a tower, with windows lining the walls on three full sides. It was stunning, but when he asked what I thought, all I could manage was a nonchalant “It’s nice,” like, “Whatever, I am sooooo not impressed; I eat houses like this in my cereal with sliced bananas as part of my complete breakfast.”

My point is, and I know we all know this; we’ve all heard it a thousand times, but for some reason it just now finally clicked with me: Insults stem from insecurity most of the time. Insecurity because the insulter is threatened by the insultee, because something the insultee has or is doing is better. It’s so much better that it’s scary to the insulter. So it must be pretty good. And that means that when someone is insulting me, it might mean I’m on the right track. It might be a sign that I should just keep going, keep doing what I’m doing, but more so.

I’m sure you’re like, “Um, Really, Marcy, you’re just now figuring this out? Duh, this is the most obvious fact in the universe.” Well, yeah, I don’t know, suddenly it just makes a lot of sense because I have practical things to apply it to. In any case, I finally get it, and I think this knowledge is going to help me a lot. And if it doesn’t, that’s cool, too; I’ll just find a genie and wish to become the most powerful sorcerer in the world! Mwahahahaha!