Project Purple did not mean to start out near Halloween. It was a mistaken confluence.

Project Purple started out like this:

Step 1: Bleach:

At this point, Project Purple is delayed because…. uh…

I ran out of bleach.

So, another day, another trip to the beauty supplystore (which is hilarious; I need SUPPLIES to be BEAUTIFUL) for more bleach:

Ah, much better.

Day three: Apply the dye.

Here I tell you my harrowing tale: It’s not dye. It’s paint. I can do dye from a bottle. This, and the bleach, want me to paint my hair and not my scalp. Sounds easy enough, except, I can’t wear my glasses while doing it, and without them, I am as blind as the proverbial. So I forego the paint brush for slopping it on my head, and here I am, standing three inches away from the mirror, squinting, trying to apply this shit evenly.

But, it’s not bad:

Not quite as stunning as I wanted, but it will do for the next three to six weeks. And you were all right — I did contemplate dying the dog’s tail purple, and I do intend to go as a one eyed one horned flying purple people eater for Halloween.

Today....

It begins....

Project Purple

DUN DUN DUN

Tonight I watched this documenatry called Darwin’s Nightmare, which about the fishing communities in Tanzania. Some time ago an idiot dumped a bucket of Perch in Lake Victoria. The Perch became the largest fish I have ever seen, and created an amazing fishing industry for impovrished African villages around the lake. The problem is, the Nile Perch ate everything else living in the lake, to the point of eating their own hatchlings. The fish the local Tanzanian’s lived on is gone, and the Nile Perch is commercial, sold to Europe, and too expensive for the natives. They thus survive on carcasses deemed too poor for manufacturing. But even in this, the Perch demands more smoking and cooking than the cichlids they lived off before, leading to deforestation.

Fishing is Tanzania’s biggest export. Men come from the bush to work in the fisheries, and risk getting eaten by alligators, since they actually go in the water to coax these giant fish in to the nets.

Additionally, the vast majority of women turn to prostitution, AIDS is on the rise, and starving, parentless children roam the streets as vagrants and criminals and fight each other for food.

In happier news, I want a pony.

Updates updates updates…

The certified letter was from Frank. He sent $975. It would cost us $300 for a lawyer to recoup $425, leaving us with an extra $125. It’s not worth it.

I went out to Trax Farms for their annual autumn festival today. Only it doesn’t feel like autumn, what with it being 81 degrees. The leaves have barely started turning. And, since tonight is a late game, and no doubt owing to the warm weather, everyone in Pittsburgh was there, all dressed in their gear, a sea of Black and Gold. The Steeler Nation is large, yes, and they need pumpkins.

I did not get a pumpkin, owing to the oppressive heat and crowds. I grabbed a bite and headed out.

I got Jackson some new toys today. He finally managed to eat through two and a half Bamboo toys and one Tuffie, but it took him six weeks. These are a much better investment. Tuffies, Bamboo, and Rough Toys from now on!

I also carried on with a tradition.

The Headless Horseman! Riding a beagle horse! Eek! THE HEADLESS DOGSMAN!

Don’t blame me. The Wicked Witch made me do it.

Kim called demanding an update to the landlord saga (she’s the only one who loves me!). The truth is, I haven’t updated because it has not yet reached a conclusion, but it is only fair to let my reader know where things stand.

So, OK. We last left our intrepid mover on September 23. On September 24, we did get most of our things back, and the dickhead son offered a sincere apology for his attitude the previous day. Missing was our expensive patio set, vacuum cleaner, a couple of miscellany, and some rather important business records, which could totally screw us over if we get audited. We took everything over to Josh’s mother’s house.

On Tuesday, September 25, we went through everything, splitting what we wanted to keep and throwing out obvious trash. They’d picked up, for example, empty cat liter and laundry detergent bottles. We spent Monday and Tuesday cleaning the house, too, because while they’d done a quick clean up, they hadn’t done a good job. We also patched holes in the walls and repainted.

On Saturday, September 29, we met with the landlord and his wife for a walk through. I gave him my new address and the keys.

And that’s where we stand. We’re waiting for the check of our security deposit, which he has until the end of the month to give us. I got a note in my mailbox today for a certified letter, so maybe that will turn out to be it? Regardless, if we don’t get the full security deposit back, we’ll take him to court, and tack on lawyer’s fees and the cost of the missing items, as well. At this point, Josh is convinced the asshole won’t send anything.

Sunday, September 30 included a lovely visit from the Hoemke’s, the first visitors to my new place. They were astounded that I had everything unpacked and decorated. That’s just how I roll.

The next week was a normal work week, and then my first weekend with nothing to do. Only it wasn’t a full weekend; I took Sunday off and then had to work Monday through Thursday (although I also took Monday off due to a horrific bout of insomnia). Then off to volunteer at the World Pinball Championships Thursday through Saturday. Things were so busy I didn’t hear the phone ring when Kim called to complain I was leaving the story hanging!

Jackson stayed with Josh Thursday through Saturday so I could put in my time at PAPA. He was supposed to stay through Sunday, but came home early due to the following adorable story:

I dropped Jackson off Thursday morning, put in 8 hours at work, and then four hours at the tournament. I got home around 2:30AM, and I can hear Cheshire crying before I even open the door. She’s always been a loud cat, so I think nothing of it, and go about doing my stuff. Finally, I sit down, and realize she’s still crying. She’s sitting in front of the front door, whining. She keeps trying to reach up and grab the door knob. Now, that’s no so weird; she’s always lunged at door knobs, but she’s never done it at the front door of any residence, because she knows she can’t go outside. I call her over, she comes, whines, and goes back to the front door. I try enticing her with cat nip — no dice. Finally, I go over to her, and start petting her.

She rolls over and play bites me, like she does with Jackson. Cheshire missed him. She sat there all night Thursday crying for him to come home.

I texted Josh to tell him, because it was adorable. Well, it was adorable until I wanted to sleep. Then it was annoying.

I woke up Friday, late, and dashed out for 15 more hours at PAPA. Exhausted, I returned at 2:30. guess where the cat was? Guess what she was doing.

It had never dawned on me how little attention Cheshire asks for now that Jackson is here. She used to be an attention hog, but now she pretty much does her own thing. I had assumed it was age — she’s 12 years old now. It turns out that she doesn’t need me because she has a companion now; she has Jackson. And all the times I think she’s annoyed with him are actually them playing, which they must do a lot of when I’m not home. She was having attachment anxiety now that he was gone.

I asked Josh to bring Jackson back on Saturday night, so I could get some sleep. I got home at 2:40 to the quietest house ever, as the cat and dog were curled up together, sleeping. Josh called to tell me that when he brought Jackson home, Cheshire followed him around “like a shadow” until he paid attention to her and licked her. Then she beat him up.

I spent the last two days sleeping. I call it Pinball Hangover.

So that’s where the story stands, Kim! I’ll let you know if and when we take the next step.

It is a great injustice that I do not have a reality TV Show. Can’t you just see it? Nerd of Love on VH1, starring an average looking girl who does tech, likes action movies, and reads comic books. Oh, and she has boobs. Really! Boobs! And did we mention she has boobs?

Also, she is not a fan of us having killed Captain America. But who cares? She has boobs!

Speaking of comic books, do you watch Heroes? I do! And I have been mapping characters to their X-Men counterparts.

Claire - Wolverine
Molly - Professor X
D.L. - Kitty Pride
Matt - Jean Grey
Peter - Rogue
Niki/Jessica - The Hulk
Hiro - Nightcrawler

(Yes, I know The Hulk is not an X-Man, but he’s still a Marvel character, and it took me forever to figure out who she was based on, so suck it.)

I’m in a commercials mood. Favorite ’90’s commercial:

Would you like that? Would you like to ride with Batman?

Favorite Y2K commercial, by the always brilliant Spike Jonez (he of Being John Malcovich and Adaptation):

Current favorite commercial. I’m kind of in love with this ad. Elvis, Godzilla, Devo, Teletubbies, and Locke? Awesome.

Typically, commercials made mixing archival footage and new footage tend to be ass (Fred Astair dancing with a vacuum cleaner, anyone?) but this one manages to celebrate the brand’s heritage while having some fun. Almost makes me want a Jeep.

Favorite commercial based on something I could not care less about and yet is totally captivating:

If you haven’t seen the Smirnoff Tea Partay commercial, you are soooooooooo lame.

This is so cool. I’m totally buying this book, but I thought you’d also like to see the Top 20 Most Bizarre Experiments of All Time. Some, like The Obedience Experiment or The Standford Prison Experiment, are famous. Others, like Demikhov’s Two-Headed Dogs or The Remote-Controlled Bull or Seeing Through a Cat’s Eyes are just fascinating.

Also, this is awesome. Posted here for my friends without cable, or simply those that missed it, is what is clearly Jon Stewart’s follow up to his appearance a few years ago on Crossfire. I present to you: Jon Stewart Taking Chris Matthews On.

MATTHEWS: I’m listening to you…

STEWART: I’m not trashing your book, I’m trashing your philosophy of life.

My favorite bit, though:

MATTHEWS: Come on Hardball.

STEWART: I don’t troll.

It was preceded by a sketched called The Specularium! where Jon and four correspondents sat around a table a la Hardball and speculated about what will happen. Rob Riggle speculated that Iraq will become a haven for magical faeries with Unicorns that give vitamin water from their teats.