ten things i would do if i could do anything (and not necessarily the the first or top ten):
send electric shocks through drivers' bodies if they turn or change lanes without using their signal
(emergency situations excluded)
kiss
danny goffey square on the mouth
(ok, kiss all of supergrass.. there i said it)
outlaw the abuse of cologne
have the powers of that guy on "superfriends" - was it elastic man? - who could stretch, but only in my legs
eat scones with clotted cream and jam every morning and afternoon with tea
(and never see the effects of this on my thighs or my teeth)
kiss
colin greenwood square on the mouth
hang dj's that mash up classic u2 with whitney houston and legitimately think what they've done is a good thing
make sure every child was raised with love, care, and
the muppet show
instill in every human brain the difference between a theatre and a cinema
(no ma'am we are showing "madagascar" here)
make peanut better cookies fat and carb free and travel less expensive than food
i guess that's kind of eleven things, huh?
well, it's my blog. i'll do what i want!
today i got news that i have known of late was bound to come, and yet still i found myself completely unprepared to face it.
while i know she doesn't read this, i am praying to whatever entity exists that my gramma knows just how much i love her.
i received this email yesterday and i wanted to share with you all, including its composer.
an idea of why i know i would go straight to hell if i really believed in it...
first, excerpts from a recent email exchange...So, there's this guy in Nashville who keeps a blog and while I enjoy reading it, I kind of wondered about some off-color comments he made, wondering if he was, in fact, actually an asshole. So I asked via an email,
Hey, you got issues?To which he responded:
Thats the thing that nobody on the outside really realizes about my blog.It's aimed directly at my best friends, who just happen to be black, asian,jewish, and one extremely gay. All my best friends from my life now liveelsewhere, and this is some sort of a way for me to talk to them (even ifthey're not listening). They have all in one way or the other called me andmy blog "childish" and mildly interesting.I sometimes forget how abrasive I can sound in how I talk. I like to thinkof myself as an equal opportunity offender. That's actually what has drawnme to my friends, our open and outright attempts at deconstructing eachother. In a mean way.
To which I responded:
Whew. What a relief. If that wasn't the case, I'd feel horrible that I enjoyed reading the blog of a complete asshole.One of my best friends and I started even WORSE rounds of name-calling back in college during a road trip... She calls me the guinea-chink or wop-flip, and I refer to her as cracker, white trash, etc. She asks me things like if it hurts to have my feet bound, or if I've put a hit on anyone -- I ask her if she enjoys fucking her relatives and burning crosses on people's yards. I don't know why the heck we even started this, but yeah, you can imagine how well such conversations are received, if overheard. One of my cousins thought it was "horrible." Whatever. Aww. You made me miss Heidi! The point of all this cutting and pasting being --- I seriously miss you! Oh whitest one!
Hee,
Love,
Half-Breed
my blog doesn't have enough pictures, so here's a good one....
i heart my gu-ch!!!!
further bizarro events of heidi's week:
once upon a time i dated a boy on the other coast. he turned out to be a self-loathing negator (pronounced NEG-A-TORE), so that ended.
once upon a time, while dating said boy, i had a standing tuesday night trivia date with friends at a bar just down from my place. at said bar there was a really hot bartender. hot because he might as well have been boy-in-nevada's doppelganger.
ok, he was taller, darker hair, and he didn't have massive drummer arms, but beyond that... practical twins.
that relationship went down like a lead zeppelin, and shortly after we ceased our trivia-going as one of us neared a birthing (not me, i am sure you know) and two of us a venture to the land of scot.
neither the boy, nor his doppelganger were ever seen again.
until...
last night i came to see the current adult puppetry offering. i sat with our two canadian guests and let them regale me with what's great about (pronounced A-BOOT) living in (my future home) toronto.
i leaned to my right to make some pointed comment to one of my companions and caught a glimpse of something that i was not prepared for. i sat still like a deer in headlights until to my complete relief, reason came back to me and i saw that it was only the double.
stepping out the door this morning, confronted immediately by the new crisp morning air, i felt a pang in my heart. a momentary lapse of reasoning caused me to mistake my surroundings - forget where i was.
i miss scotland this morning.
and not even the pulsing, vibrant scotland in edinburgh. this morning i miss stretches of solid mountain peaks laden with heather or snow scotland. i miss miles of loch scotland. i missnot a car in sight for hour-stretches of barely-two-lane road scotland. i miss standing on spot where blood was spilled in the first fight to keep scotland its own nation scotland.
i miss cheap pints of slightly warm guinness scotland where you can drop by a little shed to get fish, chips and mushy peas for 2 pound. i miss don't dare remove that scarf and gloves for fear of numbness scotland. i miss castle castle castle castle castle hairy coo castle scotland.
i miss hearing the proclaimers played daily in earnest.
i miss being as far away from my atlanta existence as possible while still being surrounded by warm people who speak your words and biting air eased in any wool shop for 4 bob... and pure natural beauty.
sorry to be so cheesy, but that's where my head (and my heart) lies this morning.
and in case i haven't explained "hairy coo..."
i worked on a show.
it got a lovely review in both of atlanta's main sources for theatre reviews.
you should go see it.
ask me how.
this ad brought to you by a box office manager.
at jerry's request, links to the reviews are
here and
here
paranoid android moment #302 (i just made that up... i have no idea)
the first truly cold, god-help-me-for-forgetting-to-locate-my-gloves-this-morning morning in the ATL. snot-dripping from my nose, hands so stiff it's difficult to clutrch onto my train-book... and i did not want to be awake.
from the station to work, i thought, "how odd to hear the beatles followed by new order."
then i felt it... everything falling in sync.
of course. blue monday.
ha ha ha ha ha.
ps - other freaky note of the day. today there are folks here from toronto to help get us adjusted to our new ticketing software. i was thinking in the frigid train station this morning, "this is your adjustment to toronto, heidi." two-thirds of the way through
microserfs (aforementioned train reading), dan has just flown to ontario... biz-zar-oh!!!!!
addiction is maybe one of the hardest things in the world to own up to...
those who do it without coaxing - entirely of their own devices - have my utmost admiration. those specifically in my life, you have my complete support and all the love in my heart.
i am really proud of you.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
on a related note, adulthood has been slapping me in the face quite a bit lately.
76 days and counting...
an update on my loss of faith in humanity as pertains to work:
last week a lady called to make a reservation using a gift certificate someone was buying for her. but no one had bought it yet. she was very upset that i couldn't give her credit for the certificate anyway. o...k....
this weekend a check arrives, no notation, from an organization that's name i just happen to recognize from this lady's diatribe as the one purchasing her not-yet-in-existence gift certificate.
however, with no notation, we haven't a clue what to do with it.
a harried gentleman from said organization calls today. gets me. also clearly upset, he explains to me that his organization sent us a check for a gift certificate for a mother and her special-needs child. she has complained to him that when she calls we have no knowledge of it. he can't comprehend this.
until i explain to him that his check arrived approximately 48 hours previous. with no sort of notation on it.
apologetically, he then proceeds to tell me how this lady has been hasseling him for days about this and her daughter really wants to see a puppet show. he's sorry, he just gets frustrated because they are trying to good things for these kids, etc.
he'll call her and tell her all is squared away and to call to reserve for her and her child.
she calls. she wants to use the certificate for saturday night.
"ma'am, the sahow saturday night is an adult show, strictly for ages 18 and up. is your daughter at least 18?"
"no"
"are you aware we can't sell tickets to minors for this show?"
"i am buying them. i am not a minor."
"but we won't be able to let her in the theatre."
"that's ok. she isn't coming."
the lady is a SCAM artist and using her daughter's disability to score free tickets for herself.
i felt a migraine setting in.
may karma find her and bite her so hard on the ass she bleeds.
the place where i work is NOT:
a movie theatre (so don't call and ask what time the movie shows)
called "puppetry of arts"
just for children
a slave shop that does not allow performers a day off
a for-profit business venture/ soulless corporate money-monger (we're a poor non-profit, not "the man" - stealing from us/sticking it to us is counterproductive!)
a nazi regime (some idiot actually comapred me to a nazi for requiring pre-payment)
located in the big arts complex on 15th and peachtree
excepted from fire code statutes
free
one of those places with a playboard and sock puppets
sheesh! (i'm having an "i hate people" day)
right before my birthday, christoper was in town and i met him and smith and some other lovely folks for drinkin'... at some point in the evening i was coaxed into naming the ten people non-related(immediate family and russian fiancees are a given) i would want to have on a desert island with me.
the answers i will never disclose and they'd had enough by the time i got there that i wouldn't think they'd remember, so don't ask 'em.
but it does elate me to know that i found out today that every one is scheduled to appear at my lil' shindig in december.... hooray!!!!
simply my own humble moviegoer/
festival-goer opinion, but it's been a really good year for film.
last night d and i caught
thumbsucker. one of those largely uncomfortable films where you have to keep reminding yourself not to panic, the characters up there fucking up are just fictional characters, but concluding with beautiful redemption - for both the film and its subjects.
pure brilliance in celluloid form.
scenes like eye candy, vivid and striking. performances inspired all-around - and when i call a keanu reeves performance inspired, you know i mean business. a score and soundtrack that fit seamlessly... (go polyphonic spree!) i have never heard elliott used more elegantly.
if you like movies that don't make you think, don't bother. if you enjoy films that put a little realistic faith back in humanity, definitely do.
sent to me by jerry this morning:
From: Jerry > Sent: Tuesday, October 18, 2005 9:37 AM > To: Heidi > Subject: for you: It's the birthday of the playwright Wendy Wasserstein, (books by this author) born in Brooklyn, New York (1950). She's best known for her play The Heidi Chronicles. She said, "I loved the theater. I just didn't think you could do it as a profession. I thought that I would marry a lawyer or be one and do productions of Guys and Dolls at my local suburban playhouse." But she took a playwrighting course in college and struggled to make it as a playwright in New York City. During her years of struggle, she was watching as most of her friends and siblings got married and had children. She thought a lot about what she'd sacrificed by devoting herself to theater, and that became the subject of The Heidi Chronicles.
happy birthday, miss namesake!
i am convinced no one reads
this
ok, so conformity is not necessarily something i generally endorse. yet there are some things that just seem to make sense... or not, rather.
for a society so obsessed with its vehicles - particularly with them moving about speedily and encountering as few obstacles as possible along the way, hence we have laned roads and (at least where i reside) you keep to your right so those going opposite you have your left all to themselves - why can we not seem to transfer that same clear logic to footpaths?
why can people not seem to gather that if they are traveling along a walkway/staircase/ramp/etc with two-way foot traffic, that rather than do so side-by-side with their companions/friends/acquaintances thus blocking the way for those approaching from the other direction, that it's more efficient and just-damn courteous to keep to one side and let others get where they're going too.
furthermore, you'd never simply stop your car in the middle of the interstate. you'd pull off to the shoulder. what then, makes it sensible to stop dead in the midst of a busy mall corridor or street sidewalk or even (or specifically perhaps) stairway to the northbound train platform to answer your cell or ask your pal if they wanna get coffee first? should you need to get your bearings, may i suggest simply standing over to the side... it's quite easy, really...
(i was at the airport last night... can you tell?)
finally, on a semi-related note... prior to my first visit to the uk, i was given this advice by someone close to me: WALK TO THE LEFT, STAND TO THE RIGHT.
it would appear this rule has managed to
migrate west, in theory at least. now i think is the time for it do so in practice. perhaps, like in london, we could put up signs on escalators to gently guide the public toward this revolutionary idea in courtesy. and it would provide a small jumpstart.
yet, as i know all too well, you can put beacons and strobes around a sign that says "this performance is sold out" and people will still approach the box office window to ask, "got any tickets for the show?"
these are the same people that answer their cell phones when live theatre is going on 20 feet in front of them and ask what time the movie is when they call to buy those seats.
i think what the world could use is a brute force of polite police. who's with me?
for god only knows what reason, i had the bad extreme ballad "more than words" stuck in my head in the shower this morning. perhaps something i read in SPIN? about nuno bettencourt being in some new supergroup (if it can indeed be called that...
no offense to nuno, who i actually respect as a musician and who time has certainly not made less hot if you ask me...)
it reminded me of one of my favorite rants, which i am sure if you know me, you're pretty damned tired of. but here it is in writing so i need never force you to endure it again:
be prepared for many a derailment on our way to my point.
for god knows what reason (de ja vu, anybody?) i found myself listening to the local "lite rock" station on my way home one night. most likely i was flipping around and i managed to catch a journey song somewhere along the way. unlike most of the other idols of my childhood, i will never abandon my love of steve perry. ever! bryan adams got kicked to the curb with that lame-ass robin hood ballad, and my love affair with prince just morphed into some respect-type thing... but no matter what, steve perry will always live in my heart. so it was him or that chicago song i love so much...
back to my point.
it was the dedication hour hosted by some nitwit who calls herself lila or something of that nature. a lady emailed in or called - who knows - about how her husnband had just gone through this awful loss in his family and she just wanted to dedicate a song to him that expressed just how special he was to her, etc etc. a beautiful if not trite sentiment. only she thought our friend lila an expert and finding herself unable to come up with anything asked that she choose the song. oh. mistakes we make.
our "expert" chose "more than words."
anyone ever listened to those lyrics?
my guess is that lila thinks "every breath you take" by the police or "possession" by sarah mclachlan are great prom themes, too! nevermind they're written from the point of view of people so in love THEY ARE STALKING THEIR AFFECTION OBJECTS!!!!
and nevermind that she picked a song for htis lady to dedicate to her husband that says "you wouldn't have to tell me you love me ... IF YOU'D JUST FUCK ME." (c'mon people, it's the theme song for every teenage boy in the world who's ever had a girlfriend who wasn't "ready yet...")
point being: ballads are pretty, yes. but let's not assume that because the music is lovely that the necessarily contain harmless "i love yous" before we go off dedicating them and using them to celebrate things... the wrong message could be construed.
prop hell as i know it is over.
at least for now.
and not without having to argue with a craft store clerk that august 22 was in fact, not more than 60 days ago, so can i please just return this poly foam please?
woo hoo.
now i can concentrate on that show i am doing in december... and saving for my copy of concert for bangladesh....
observations and advise:
coldplay are overrated.
when ordering anything over the phone, you will get better customer service if you a) say what you need exactly right off the bat, and then b) wait for the agent to prompt you for other information. they usually have a flow and an order in which to obtain information. if you break it or rush them, you really irritate the piss out of them.
pea soup is underrated. it might look gross, but that stuff is yummy!
planning a wedding around christmas may not be healthy for your psyche.
che guevarra (sp?) tshirts should not be worn by people who only know he's the guy
Motorcycle Diaries is about or less. or at all at this point.
CCCP tshirts should not be worn by people who don't know that CCCP is SSSR in the english alphabet.
being able to buy books used on amazon ROCKS!
if you can smell your own perfume you are wearing too much. you are doling out migraines to the people in your wake.
good music is a blessing. bad music can be tuned out.
good puppetry is awe-inspiring. bad puppetry is just painful.
is it really possible that there are people in the world who love and know theatre that haven't heard of caryl churchill? even if just in passing?
starfucks never fails to make a tee-total hypocrite of me. in spite of my insults and protests that they kill small business and insistence on going to the
aurora in little five whenever convenient just to that very end... i still can't resist it when i am at work/at georgia tech waiting on my man/in kroger and i get a craving for a chai latte.
goddam them!!!!
nevertheless, i really (promise, cross my heart) i shall never order anything iced there ever again. such a waste of money!
a russian i love is marrying me this december. the anti-wedding wedding should be a blast, and to insure so, i have put
three of
my favorite
people in charge of the evening's music playlists.
d requested a list of do's and don'ts to insure my big day contained no three-to-four-minute disappointments. my response is as follows:
OK- so i thought to myself, the ?no? list should be short, cause these kids will know better. Nevertheless, it ended up like this:
NO:
How Soon is Now? (sick of it)
Coldplay in any form
Rolling Stones unless it?s Mothers Little Helper
found easily on a 99x playlist
bright eyes
killers
Christmas-related music of any kind
songs associated with other relationships: New Year?s Day by u2, any Oasis, Smashing pumpkins, speed metal
Hey Mickey or Come on Eileen (unless it?s the Badly Drawn Boy cover)
Bon Jovi
cheesy love longs not specifically requested on my YES list/sung by Bjork, Colin Meloy, or Ben Gibbard or a Beatle
heavy metal no matter what ilya says (hair metal is permitted w/ heidi approval)
country music
R&B
Aerosmith
rap (Gorillaz and other good stuff excluded)
showtunes
Gwen Stefani
Britney or Christina or anyone either have had sex with
anyone featured in Teen Beat
Blue Monday (there exist so many better New Order songs)
song ever featured in an iPod commercial or on TRL
songs lasting more than 7 minutes unless they are by nEw Order
u2/whitney houston mash-ups
greenday
to this case reponded: "damn, that's a good list."
glancing at the blogs of women throughout this internet world of ours, it seems to me that there is some bizarre unspoken rule that to write about one's significant other - particularly male specimens - is reserved for bitching.
don't get me wrong, there is praise - most of it vomit-inducing. yet it is not nearly as prolific as the bemoaning his lack of sensitivity here and his impatience for pms tantrums there.
glancing then again at my own little journal here, i realized i don't really write about the ruski that often. he's here, without a doubt, but mostly that's it. mentioned in context, but never the lead role. i wondered at first, "am i a shitty girlfriend?" or am i simply naive and it's all i
ever talk about?
but in really considering it, it's most likely a good sign being as how i generally bitch about everything else under the sun here.
nevertheless, if anyone has been privy to this thing from its initial stages, you might be thinking- as i sometimes do - "who the hell is this guy that turned our little strumpet into a full-blown marrying-type?"
i, in fact, have dear friends, so close to my heart that they have not only wedding invites, but duties for the ceremony, who have yet to meet the elusive comrade. (he's not much of a party boy, that one. our first date: "what do you want to do now? because mathematicians don't dance..." or drink... or socialize)
therefore, let this be your introduction... world, meet the man who won my heart. i swear to try and keep that last sentence the most nauseating one of the whole bunch...
first, a confession. we met here. yep, through the magic of the internet. and if i told you it was on friendster, i lied to you. to hide my guilt and shame. years of mocking and scoffing at internet-dating sites will come back to haunt me once my union is legal and the scarlet H appears at my throat, courtesy of the church of online match-making. H for HIP-O-CRIT!!!!! thank you,
nerve.com for the direct hand you had in getting me to a man whom i have not a trace of doubt will make me every bit the happily married woman my mother is (married to high school sweetheart 29 years and counting, reared child/typing monkey with him and still sleeps comfortably beside him every night... i call him dad)...
the part about him writing to ask what my tattoo was, however, is 100% truth. he thought it was something he'd seen in a computer game. i heart nerds, indeed!
meet ilya:
- three masters degrees. THREE! all in math. and yet, the boy still sucks at arithmetic.
("computing is for computers!")
- upon learning that we spent our second date watching a Kurasawa film, his friend a- said, "keep her. any girl who will sit through samurai movies is perfect for you." i can't tell you how loudly that statement rings true in afterthought.
- he claims broccoli is poison, and yet he loves those disgusting hot dogs you get at the grocery 10/$1.00.
- on our first date - my first opportunity to see him in the flesh - he met me at the top of an escalator in a two-story borders. without exaggerating i tell you that when i realized that was him, my knees buckled. the boy has a lovely smile.
- normally quiet pisses off my best friend. when she met the comrade, it didn't bother her. must be all that soviet mystique.
- i was seeing this guy for weeks before i even managed a kiss out of him. REMEMBER THIS IS ME WE'RE TALKING ABOUT HERE - MISS "DO I REALLY HAVE TO KEEP MY PANTS ON..." (ok- i am not THAT bad...)
i was so baffled i consulted my other russian pal to see if it's a cultural thing or if he's just being a guy who's not that interested, who claimed that russian guys don't have female friends. if he is still doing things with me, he likes me.
- his best friend is a girl. good thing the important half of denis' statement was correct.
- perhaps a girl best friend, a sister, and mom (ie dad and the rotweiller being the only other males around) have something to do with it, but he seems to intuitively know how to handle my crazed hormonal episodes. pms hits me hard. as does spreading myself too thin and/or not sleeping sufficiently. reality can lose hold and cause me to freak the fuck out. he knows to leave the room, let it run its course for a few minutes, and then return with arms ready to hold tight until i get a hold of myself.
- "people who don't drink make me nervous." someone said that recently. normally i agree. but often it's paired with a self-righteousness that is hard to be around. but the comrade don't drink (me: "i am sorry, did they kick you out of russia for that? i thought vodka was in your nursing bottles?") he just doesn't drink, but nor does it bother him if i do. "just no driving."
- for someone it took FOREVER to seduce (according to me solely, he claims we probably moved a little too fast), it was certainly worth the wait. i promise not to bog you down with too many details, but let it suffice to say there are things in this (carnal) world that many women are too often denied or forced to ask for. in my world honey, it's a mandatory prerequisite. and this has never had to be discussed. YAHOOOOOOOO!!!
- he picks on me for loving "every song -" but then i catch him when i come home working on his thesis and listening to travis or the decemberists.
- it is truly a joy - and not unrefreshing - to find some trite or cliched or even just familiar piece of pop culture that is entirely unknown to my soviet-born love and watch him discover it. humming to myself as we walked to the park one day he said "what's that."
"a smith's song i have stuck in my head."
"a what?"
there are so many things i get to teach him. and so many i have to learn. my apologies to jd, who yesterday had to hear me go off on stalin for 15 minutes, after he helped me find another
cheburashka tshirt.
- whereas i was raised to believe you tell people that you love that you love them ads often as possible because you never know what might happen, he only says it when he knows it will surprise me - ("the phone loves you. that is why it send that text message. not me...")
- between his analytical and practical self and my intuitive and romantic one, we balance each other out nicely.
- he is very thoughtful, especially towards my parents.
- he is the only man who can pick out jewelry for me.
- when i am getting ready to get in the shower or the bed and i bend over, he plants kisses on the small of my back.
- nobody rocks a sweater vest the way my man does.
not even jerry.
- the boy loves heavy metal. we're talking the proggy evil kind with band names like haunted houses and tea flavors - moonspell, nightwish, cemetary, blind guardian - and yet the decemberists concert was too loud for him.
- a gentleman caller once drew attention to the following characteristics that define me/attracted him: love of beatles/jeff buckley, dancing, drinking, scotland - the only one of those that means anything to ilya is
the beatles. and yet he is still taken with me/in love with me/ wants to marry me.
a yes song on teh radio yesterday sent me into one of my rock geek modes and i proceeded to give the poor t.d. on the show i am propping a brief history of yes as pertains to me.
this reminded me of one of my proudest moments...
in the heyday of rock and roll trivia at the
star bar, "the orange tang clan" often found themselves just outside of placing each monday evening. but one night - with heidi, the two justins, and mark aided by dave and james - we had managed to hold our own against the big (old) boys.
it all came down to the final big all or nothing question: put the following
KISS albums in order of release - Dressed to Kill, Hotter than Hell, Love Gun, Destroyer.
we were the only team that got it right.
i was the only KISS fan in the bunch.
our beer was paid for for the next two trivia nights, and i danced home drunky drunk drunk and very pleased with myself.
next time: when my regular trivia team won years later by listing Guns N Roses #1 singles.
(oh - if you're curious - Hotter than Hell, Dressed to Kill, Destroyer, and my personal favorite Love gun...)
an update from prop hell:
if this were my sophomore year of college still, i sure as hell would not have to actually search out empty vodka bottles...
(image of njg and amanda wrenching a cordless phone from my drunk and stubborn hands on the upper quad green, me just determined to make a HUGE mistake...)
derived from a fired-up conversation the aforementioned hussy and i had on the ride back from the book sale today, here is my soapbox statement du jour:
any fool who agrees that it is just to not let any middle easterner/muslim within the confines of an airport without thorough search and profiling by the same token must agree this also goes for christians and planned parenthood offices.
calling them all terrorists and hi-jackers is like saying you guys are all that rudolph guy.
is it just me or this country gettin dumber by the second?
don't even get me (or t.a.h.) started on "intelligent design" or whatever that new euphemism for creationism is... read your bibles a little more closely folks. you may just see the distinct parallels between the two theories if you'll stop letting other people interpret the damn thing for you.
thank you, i am stepping down now.
i'm totally cheating, but here's today's post from www.iheartsupergrass.blogspot.com:
(also see: my music diary in the bottom corner over there)
listening to They Might Be Giants just now, i was reminded of a bit from the "Gigantic..." film where someone (sorry that i can't place who) said they felt sorry for those guys because since they are TMBG, they can never really know/experience how great TMBG are.
me too.
other awesome songs i have heard on the radio (gasp!) in the last 24 hours:
no myth by michael penn
i wanna touch you by catherine wheel
common people by pulp
lots o smiths!
the last week has been consumed by pursuit of the ever elusive prop... the simple white ceramic teapot. seems easy enough, right? they're everywhere... until a restraunt supply store screws up your order and you have less 24 hours to come up with half a dozen of them.
as of nine this morning, the search had ended.
god bless you cost plus world market.
