Being a Rock Star.

June 7, 2009

This past Saturday (May 30), I had a J-rock themed photoshoot in Portland. I got my hair cut in an asymmetrical, spiky fashion and some purple streaks added. Then I dressed up in a neon blue skirt, purple leggings, and hot pink tank top-thing. Also, I had eye makeup that looked like a box of Froot Loops vomited on me, and purple lipstick. It was pretty great. (pictured below: me being pale)

Me Being Cool
The shoot was for Ms. Jayla’s hair portfolio, as she is working on setting up her own hairstyling business. It takes a lot of skill and patience to make hair as thick as mine behave, so she obviously knows what she’s doing. Comment if you live in Portland and want her contact information.

Anyway! So we (me and two other pretty Asian ladies with fun hair) were doing the shoot. We were getting individual shots before moving on to the group poses. When it wasn’t my turn in front of the camera, I picked up the pretty red electric guitar that Mr. Photographer Andrew brought. It was missing a string and had no amp and produced no noise at all. I stood on the street corner in downtown Portland strumming the soundless guitar and loudly singing Disney songs. In the middle of my “Under the Sea” rendition, a very proper-looking middle-aged lady walked past. She gazed cooly into my face, turned up her nose, and marched on in a snooty fashion. She didn’t even give me a dollar.

I almost choked on my enormous feather earrings from laughing so hard.

Another fun thing: Some hobo took a picture of me on his camera phone. He’s probably introduced the picture to all of his hobo pals as his girlfriend or something. Awesome.

In conclusion, Ms. Jayla the Hair Lady is great, the shoot was great, and it’s a whole lot of fun to strut through downtown Portland dressed like the above.

-Caitlin

Recent Life, in Pictures

April 29, 2009

We attended my Auntie Jen’s wedding. The title of this post is a bit of a lie, as I have no pictures for this event. Dad has the camera’s memory card and is not at home, you see. Let me assure you that, despite lack of photographic evidence, my baby Kael looked exceedingly handsome in his sweater vest.

We went to playoff game number two between the Portland Trail Blazers and the Houston Rockets. We had floor seats and they were really sweet. People seated on the floor can get a whole pint of ice cream hand-delivered to them for $4.50! My sister and I split a mint chocolate chip. Portland won after a hard-fought game and it was really great to watch. They’re playing game 5 tonight – best of luck to Portland! (Pictured: Me and my sister being our sexy selves.)

SO MUCH HAWTNESS

Baby Kael is getting very big. He’ll be 10 weeks old on Thursday. He’s been grumpy since getting his shots last week, but he still smiles and coos and does cute baby things. (Pictured: Baby Kael.)

He's ready to NOM NOM NOM

Speaking of Baby Kael, he is an extremely expensive little boy. Since I’m working fairly irregularly at Wilsonville Honda, and being a guide at ChaCha pays around $3 an hour, I’m busily looking for new sources of income. I’m in the process of creating my website, which will be linked here when complete for all to enjoy. Hurrah.

I’m going to end with a ridiculous video I put together for my sister. Her assignment was to create a commercial for a book. She chose The Luxe, by Anna Godbersen. I wrote out a whole script that we filmed, but we ended up using only four scenes, so yay for superfluous work… Also, I voiced over everything because we realized after we were done filming everything that the mics really didn’t work that well.

We went to the Portland Rose Garden this fine evening and watched a bunch of enormous guys beat the stuffing out of each other with sticks. Apparently this is called “Lacrosse.” It was full of manliness.

At one point during the game, I pondered the fact that it would take a huge number of catfish to completely fill the Rose Garden. I really don’t know why I thought of that, but now I’m curious, so…

The Rose Garden has a roof that is 210,000 square feet and is 140 feet tall at its pinnacle (source). I’m not going to make this overly complicated because I’m feeling pretty lazy, so I’m just going to take 210,000 and multiply it by 140 to get an internal volume of 29,400,000 feet cubed. Then I’m going to make that an even 29 million, which is still quite a bit too high, to account for the rounded shape of the roof which makes the surface area of 210,000 considerably greater than it would be if it were flat.

Catfish vary greatly in size, but on average are between 3.9 and 5.2 feet long (source). I’m going to be lazy and use 4.5 feet as the length of a catfish. I’m going to be even lazier and say that catfish are approximately cylindrical in order to more easily calculate the volume of one, and guesstimate that the diameter of a 4.5-foot-long catfish would be about 1 foot. Therefore, the volume of a catfish in cubic inches is pi times r squared, or 36 pi, times 54 (4.5 times 12 inches is where that number came from), for a total of 1944 pi, which is 6104 cubic inches or about 3.5 cubic feet. (Why did I convert to inches first? I have no idea.)

29,000,000 divided by 3.5 is 8,285,714.

Given my extremely high estimate of the Rose Garden’s volume, plus the fact that I didn’t account for any solid objects (walls, seating, etc.) within the Rose Garden, 8,285,714 is too many catfish. A round 8 million is almost definitely still too many… But in any case, I think it’s safe to assume that completely filling the Rose Garden with catfish would require, well, a lot of catfish. Millions of them. Certainly over nine thousand.

If I did something stupid when calculating stuff, let me know. It’s midnight and I didn’t double check things.

HELLO, I AM A CATFISH
-Caitlin

Note: The following post is going to be extremely image-heavy, because it’s preferable to walls of text.

On Sunday, we went to the zoo.

We saw some bears.

A bear.A polary-bear.

The second picture is of a polar bear. I was disappointed that we didn’t see any covalent bears. (This is funny if you remember high school chemistry. BEHOLD MY WIT.)

There was a bald eagle. I love birds – I wonder what I’d have to do to legally own an eagle or a hawk or two. Also, a mom and baby elephant.

Hello, I am an eagle.Ellie-funts.

Finally, this is a picture of my dad being manly. Check out that sweet hat.

Such a MAN.

After leaving the zoo, dad kindly decided to treat us to dinner at a fancy-ish Moroccan restaurant in Portland. I forgot the name, but it was a pretty neat place. We sat on cushions around low tables and ate saffron rice and spiced lamb and beef and chicken with our fingers. OM NOM NOM NOM.

I’m now switching to the topic of destruction, as promised in the title.

It seems as though an inordinate amount of stuff is being broken recently. My sister’s bunny decided to sever the cord of my mouse in two places with her big rodent-y teeth. The next day, we were packing up our Christmas decorations and started bringing boxes downstairs, only to discover that a combination of Otto’s digging activities (he’s our sort-of-dumb German shepherd, not the pretty one) and a huge amount of snow managed to flood the basement. Of course all my dad’s irreplaceable racing posters and artwork and the family photo albums were down there, among other things. We’ve been spending the last few days peeling lumps of photos apart and laying them out to dry wherever there’s room; the house is a disaster zone. Most of the family pictures are thankfully salvageable, but dad’s racing stuff is pretty much beyond repair. Really disappointing.

It's messy.

Other recently broken things include:

  • A lot of my coding, because other people who do not code try to change things and fail. I mean, they don’t fail at changing things. They do fail at keeping things functional. Codemonkey is displeased.
  • Our trees. Nice going, weather.
  • The shower curtain rod. It didn’t actually break, but it did decide to let go of the wall and land on my head. Then I had to turn the water off to put it back up while being all cold and wet. It was sad.
  • My sister’s heart, because her bunny has been in a rotten mood ever since the basement flooded and keeps trying to bite her.

I shall conclude with “cuteness,” again as promised in the title.

While peeling apart lumps of photos, my mom came across a ton of my baby/toddler pictures. Here are two. (The gray patch on the first is the lighting since I took a picture of the picture. I wasn’t turning into a zombie or anything.)

Mini-Cait 1AWWWWW

Even when I was a toddler, I had seriously great hair. True fact.

“Aww, you were so cute when you were little! What happened?” –My Dad

-Caitlin

1. The American Judicial System.

If somebody spills hot coffee all over themselves, they should not be allowed to sue the company that sold them the hot coffee for not warning them that it was hot. They were drinking it. Therefore, they knew that it was hot, and they spilled it anyway, which is not the fault of the coffee-distributing company unless that company secretly put the coffee in a dastardly spilly-cup for kicks and giggles.

Likewise, if you decapitate yourself when you attempt to trim your hedge with a lawnmower, you’re stupid. It’s called a lawnmower, not a hedge trimmer. The manufacturers did not attempt to mislead you into thinking that the lawnmower was meant to trim hedges. You’ve done the world a favor by messily removing yourself from the gene pool, and your family should not be allowed to sue the lawnmower manufacturers on your moronic behalf. If I took a pen and stabbed myself in the eye with it, and then experienced extreme pain and loss of vision as a result, it’s not the fault of the pen company for failing to explicitly state that pens are not intended for ocular penetration.

What confuses me more than these silly people is the fact that they frequently win their cases. What sort of judge would decide in their favor, and why? If I were a judge, I would look at the hot coffee-spiller, or the family of the decapitated attempted hedge-trimmer, and say, “You’re stupid. Begone.” I might also include something about farting in their general directions, call them tiny-brained wipers of other peoples’ bottoms, and insult their small, furry moms and elderberry-scented dads. Then I’d make them pay all the court fees, plus a fine for being stupid.

I should be a judge.

2. The Shenanigans Restaurant.

Firstly, “shenanigans” is an awesome word, one of my favorites ever. It’s loads of fun to say out loud, and it’s one of those neat words that sounds like exactly what it means.

Shenanigans is also the name of an extremely fancy waterfront restaurant. People get all dressed up to go there, and then daintily dine on lobster and steak and the like, being careful not to stain the freshly pressed linen tablecloths. It’s a restaurant in which no shenanigans can be pulled, else the shenanigan-puller will be removed. I find this contradictory. If I owned a restaurant named Shenanigans, there would be trained monkeys all over the place running around stealing silverware and flinging mashed potatoes and such. It would be awesome.

3. Missing Dunks.

I mean really, how does one miss a dunk? I’m not even talking about the nerdy 5’2 kids in gym class, I mean the professionals who get paid millions of dollars every year to play a game in which one repeatedly puts a ball through a hoop.

The Portland Trail Blazers played the Boston Celtics on December 30th, and both teams thoroughly sucked. Perhaps that isn’t quite fair, as the Blazers were without their star player Brandon Roy due to a hamstring injury. And really, they only thoroughly sucked in the first quarter, when they scored a pathetic 13 points in 12 minutes. The rest of the game was alright. And I’m not saying I was displeased with the outcome, as the Blazers managed to eke out a win in the last minutes of the game, defeating Boston with a score of 91-86.

To get back to the topic, though, professional basketball players should not miss dunks. And on December 30th, they were missing dunks. Travis Outlaw had an excuse for one of them, since he got pretty much tackled to the ground by Boston’s Kevin Garnett (who should have been ejected; I’ve never seen a dirtier player), but otherwise, I’m pretty sure dunks should not end in failure. Please correct me if I’m wrong…

In Conclusion

This guy is awesome.

-Caitlin