Guess what happened this weekend?

Friday, 9:45 pm
Thank you, Nico, for chewing my camera cord in half.

10:15 pm
I posted a blog on the web site for the brick documentary I've been working on.

Saturday, 2:54 pm


Today, Sunday, 12:24 am
Best burgers in the world: that dude next to Penthouse on the East Side. Yummmmm.

8:something this morning


9:30 am


3:30
Just saw a 3.5-legged coyote within the fenced grounds of the ethanol plant in Sauget.

8:30
FINALLY home! Almost a four hour drive. And I counted 26 accidents. (It was like driving through the Starfield screensaver with a bunch of other cars.)

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Listening to: that lady upstairs yell at her adult daughter while a baby cries.
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Monster Mistake

Saturday night I went to the dome to watch monster trucks. It was fun.



I enjoyed a great walk across Eads Bridge where I was rewarded with this view of Downtown St. Louis:


And then 45 minutes later I realized I didn't have my wallet.

So that's awesome.

Feel free to shower me with comments that make me feel less of an eeediot and also less worried about someone running around with my license and cancelled debit card.

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Listening to: This American Life - What I Should've Said
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Duh, Jeannette

My hair is long. It hangs there, dangling in front of my big boobs.



I stopped to talk to a friend of mine about two weeks ago because I'd heard his wife cuts hair. She does. Instead of just asking for her number, I decided to go into this whole explanation about how the last girl who cut my hair did not cut it evenly. "See how the right side is about an inch longer than the left," I say as I begin fondling my hair - right in front of my nipples.

"Jeannette, I can't hear a word you're saying because you just gave me permission to stare at your boobs."

I guess I did. Woops.

"Just give me the number, Doug."

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Listening to: This American Life - Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time
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Better Late Than Never Or Whatever

I love doing car-related activities with my brother. I don't have any knowledge of what I'm looking at, but I can tell it's cool and I know someone put their heart and soul into their work. It's a lot of fun to stop and ask questions, learn about people and their experiences and momentarily share in their passion for fast cars, rebuilds, rat rods, bitchin' paint jobs, artwork and the list goes on.



In today's society, too much weight is placed on people going to a four-year college and landing some sort of dream job behind a desk. There's a huge portion of the population who do not fit that mold and with their mechanical ability, interest, creativity and perseverance, they put together some amazing machinery. It's fun to travel to events like the Hunnert Car Pileup and be around so many passionate people who are willing to take risks and push the envelope to develop something unique and intriguing. The imagination knows no bounds and watching others bring their fantasies and outlandish visions to life - human beings fascinate me.



I communicate with a few car guys on flickr and the other day I received a comment via email by a guy in California named Jeff McCann. He said, "Your eye for the unique details of the hobby shows in your images. Wish that there were more photo journalists like yourself." He called me a photojournalist! Wow! That's some compliment coming from a guy who's had a 40-year career painting bikes and - just check out his photography collection.



Sorry about my delay in posting this story. Better late than never, or whatever it is that procrastinators say to make themselves feel less guilty for putting off something that should've been done months ago.

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Listening to: The Zydepunks - Valse de Balfa
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I found the end of my rope. And then I started to climb back up.

If you know me, you know I'm not generally a crier. I had a life-altering situation to deal with about a year and a half ago that sent me into a weeks-long frazzle from which I slowly recovered and since then, I've cried literally four times. And when I did, it was over something serious -- like finding out a friend or two or three had died (they were dropping like flies in 2009). (Okay, I did cry once while watching the T.O. Show. The episode where his Gramma uttered a few words to him. Whoa, that made me drop a few tears.)



For months now I've been letting a few things stew. And stew. And stew some more. And last week it all caught up with me until BLAMMO. I was done. Toast. Finito. Not getting out of bed. Not for work. Not for the brick film. I'd take Nico out and then come inside and climb back into bed.

On Friday I realized a few people at work were kind of worried about me and I'm like, "I didn't even know you cared." And then I uttered a few melodramatic tweets like this and that. And the responses were numerous and unexpected. Before I knew it, people were sending me @replies on twitter, direct messaging, texting, emailing and calling. At first I tried to ignore everyone, but the messages just kept coming.

And then before I knew it, I was nodding my head like, yeah.

I'm not really sure what the purpose of human life is, but it seems we're all here on this planet to help each other. I found my wit's end and there were vast amounts of people already there (go figure). Since that place was so crowded, I thought it'd be better to find the end of my rope, but too many of you encouraged me to climb back up.

I couldn't even attempt it without you. Thank you, everyone. Your words have meant more to me than you'll ever know.

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Listening to: This American Life The Kindness of Strangers
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