Denny Hecker and the Snowdays

How do you like my new band name? It's a working title, people. We've had one rehearsal which was primarily in order to come up with a band name and to eat spaghetti. More to come on this.

As you know, the sky gods crapped an enormous amount of white stuff on us this weekend. I've been sequestered in my tiny apartment for four days, with three short breaks to go to a movie, go to the Y, and go to the bar (priorities). Normally I would love to hole up in my apartment for this many days in a row, but for a couple of things. First, the last time I was in my apartment this many days in a row was when I had swine flu. Second, being in your apartment for this long really makes you realize how badly you need to clean. Third, my windows are 100% frosted over. As in, there is not even a tiny peephole to the outside world. I tried with all of my might to make myself a peephole yesterday, using my hands, a spatula as a scraper, and a warm washcloth. I had about 15 minutes of blissful clarity in the small hole that I made, then it immediately frosted over. Check it:

To beat the Sunday snowy sads, Troy, Pop and I went to Black Swan which if you haven't seen you have to stop whatever you're doing and go this instant. On the way, Troy just couldn't resist a good snow fall. If you know what I mean...



In other fun news, taking Christmas photos with TB Reed is an adventure. After I think the 4,000th photo we got a good one but it was extremely blurry.


In other news, check out how icy and death-y the back of my house is.

I haven't moved my car in 7 days because I'm nervous of taking it out of its parking spot and I don't even want to deal with the amount of snow on top. Neither of these photos are my car, but they are neighbors' cars and it gets the point across.

In other other news, this is a fellow I trained in San Francisco last week. He and his girlfriend made this jacket, and I want one STAT.

In one more bit of news, I want to tell you that last night I walked home from water aerobics class (yep!) and my hair immediately turned into frozen sticks of ice. Check it:

Until this daggonned snow goes away, I have resigned not to leave the house unless I look like this. Note: TWO scarves. Headphones. Hat. Hair tucked all the way into said hat.

K bye.

I just cannot even stand it.

Look who I got to hang out with all weekend! Five days of bliss, people. Pure bliss. She's 16 months old, and in her smiley/I love you phase...unless you wake her up from a nap in which case she, like me, becomes a vicious dragon lady.

Password = cutie pants
(in order to protect the little miss from complete randos of course).

Cutest baby on the planet, people. from satellitewalls on Vimeo.

Ireland: Land of wind and cows.

I spent the last week with two high school friends in Ireland. We started in Dublin, then headed south to Kinsale, then west to Limerick. It was beautiful. Here are pics.

Halloween picture tour!

I'm heading to Ireland tomorrow (hai-tee-tai-tee-tai!) so I thought I would leave you for a few weeks with a visual record of some fun Halloween festivities.

First and foremost, I present to you the greatest tri-person costume of all time. Hocus Pocus!


Note the Sarah Jessica Parker mop/swiffer:


Here is the amazing Hocus Pocus magical book that Taj recreated out of putty and makeup!


Steph played the role of Bette Midler, and her teeth are only about half the length of her character's, so we worked on her facial expressions throughout the night. Here's a cool shot of her hair, followed by the look we were trying for, followed by a horrible, terrifying iphone shot where she has NO NOSE AND ONLY ONE TOOTH!!!


Now a US Weekly-style "Who wore it better?"


And now, as a special Halloween present for you, the cutest lil' bee you've ever seen. Eeeeee! It's my niece!

Ukulele Fun

I got the best text message I have ever received earlier this week:

PS a ukulele will arrive at your house on Wednesday.

I am now a proud co-owner of "Ukie", the world's cutest and most Hawaiian ukulele.

I've never played a guitar before in my life. I have no idea how to strum, or play chords, or even hold it. But beef and I downloaded a few chord finder and tuner apps and chose two songs to start with.

Here is my extremely professional and heartfelt version of Hey Jude, dedicated to my sissy:



Here is Tom's haunting rendition of Somewhere Over the Rainbow:

Plane Karma

I fly a lot for work. And let me just say that I get easily annoyed whilst doing so.

For example, I flew from Philadelphia to Minneapolis last week and I had to race for my life to get to the gate because of a previous flight that took it's sweet, precious time taking off. Once I finally got to my seat, I took a breather, read a few pages of a book, then when I was allowed to use electronics I started watching Dexter on my phone.

Before I go on, you need to know that I love Dexter. It's the only thing that keeps me sane on airplanes. The moment when I get to flip it on is like ultimate relaxation for me. But Dexter can be...pretty gory. And kind of sexual. So watching it on my phone is the perfect solution for me because the phone is small enough that I can use my hands to block the screen during Dex's brutal murders. Unless, that is, the person next to me is STARING AT MY SCREEN.

That's exactly what happened to me last week. The woman next to me, though she couldn't hear a thing, watched my screen for hours. If I moved it slightly, she would adjust her posture. When I tried to block the screen with my balls of yarn, she would sit higher. I thought about saying something, especially since her watching meant I had to extra-screen the show for violence, but then I thought about something: Plane Karma. I am a firm believer that you have to be a really good passenger and airport patron, otherwise bad things will happen to you.

For example, a man took my window seat on the first flight, and he knew it. I could tell by the guilty look he gave me when I arrived at my seat. Not only did he take the liberty of boarding himself before he was called to ensure that he took my seat, but he didn't even mention it when I got there. I thought about saying something, because I chose that seat specifically and printed my boarding pass a day early to make sure I had that seat, but then I thought again. I fly all the time, I always get window seats, maybe this man NEEDED this seat. Maybe he would die without it. Or maybe he was just a jerk. Either way, I knew that if I gave him this one, it would get returned to me somehow. And me making that Philadelphia flight by about 10 seconds, I really think, was the result of this benevolence.

So back to the Dexter-stealing lady next to me. I thought about saying something to her, but I said to myself, "You know what Anna? You love Dexter. And you're always telling people that they need to watch this show. So even though you're annoyed right now, just think of it this way. Maybe she's so compelled by the show that she'll be a watcher of Dexter from now on. And wouldn't you want that?" So I let her watch for a couple of hours, then when it was time to turn our electronics off, I shook off my annoyance and asked her if she's ever seen Dexter before. It turns out, she hadn't. But she said this: "So, the plot is that there's a guy who kills only bad people, right?" And my mouth...dropped. How could she have gotten that just from the visuals of a couple episodes? "Yes, that's right!" I said. We talked about Dexter for a few more minutes, then the conversation switched topics.

"Hey...do you read?" she asked me. "Yes, I do read. Why?" I asked. Then she took a book out of her bag and said "I'd like to give you this". I looked at the novel she was holding and told her that it's ok, she didn't have to give me the book she was reading. She could just tell me what it was and I'd go check it out myself. "No, no," she said, "I wrote it. And I'd like you to have it." Turns out, this woman is a famous author that has been interviewed on MY public radio station. Exactly one year ago, she probably walked right by my desk! She autographed the book for me saying, "It was so nice to meet you, Anna". She told me that she had just been waiting, flight after flight, to talk to a nice person on a plane that she could give her book to. I'm very thankful I shook off my rage and spoke to this woman, because we ended up talking for a while and I might even babysit her kids.

Here's the moral of the story. Be nice on planes a) because of Plane Karma and b) because you might be sitting next to your new BFF.

This will either make you giggle or puke.

Ready for a whopping dose of adorable? I give you the top three reasons Tom and Anna are the cutest couple this side of the Mississip'.

1. Bread-staches. A creative use of that middle chunk you get at Erbs and Gerbs.

2. This video.



3. The cutest couple blog (besides TP) known to man.

randomdino.com

BACON COOKIES!

I can't believe I forgot to tell you this, but listen. Listen to me right now. One of my good friends is a professional chef. She's talented and creative and when I had swine flu last year she brought me homemade chicken soup, cinnamon applesauce, snickerdoodle cookies, and something else really good that I can't remember what it was (probs because of the swine). Luckily for me, she lives a few blocks down the street, and also luckily for me, a couple weeks ago she muttered the two greatest sentences I have ever heard: "We can't go out for sushi because I have to make bacon chocolate chip cookies. Just come over here."

So I went, and was greeted with sushi, pounds and pounds of cooking bacon wafting into my nose holes and sizzling before my very eyes, and my own chopsticks for which to eat said sushi and snag bits of chocolate chip cookie dough, pre, post, and during the cookie baking process. I am a lucky woman, no?

Completely innapropriate hotel room.

Hi. I'm in LA. I'm staying in a hotel room with a crazy, nonsensical, overly sensual feature. Here, I'll give you a personal tour.



Why? Why? Why is the shower see-through? What if I were sharing the room with a coworker? And no, there is not a curtain that can cover the glass, and no, it does not fog up enough for it to be non-awkward.

Also, this hotel is famous for its swanky rooftop pool and bar. It's called an "endless" pool because the water is level with the floor, so it looks like it goes all the way off of the roof. Cool, right?

Except...here's the thing. NO ONE SWIMS IN IT! They treat it like a decorative water fountain. I mean it's bath water temperature, would be perfect for a night swim, yet it's completely uncool to even approach the water. This baffles me. That just seems so LA. "There is this perfectly good pool to swim in but NO! We will not swim in it! Are you crazy? We're here to party, and wear high heels, and sit in water bed eggs (as seen in photo)." Dumb LA.

Milking cows, trapped kitties, bucking broncos, and dangerously cute kids.

What I learned at a pumpkin patch in Iowa:

1. How to milk a cow! I'm pretty much a straight professional now. If you ever want any fresh water, straight from the cow's teet, let me know.



2. How to ride a horse.

3. I saw these kittens at the pumpkin patch and immediately wanted to adopt them, but was afraid they might be carrying bird flu or Parkinson's or herpes:



4. I have the cutest niece on the whole entire Earth.

Is this not just a delicious, delicious sound?

This is my week of concerts. Sunday - Dirty Projectors. Monday - Rogue Wave. Tonight - Arcade Fire. Dirty Projectors were just, well I'll just use a word my friend Troy coined to describe them. They were "eargasmic". And Rogue Wave, though I've had the pleasure of seeing them twice before, was just, well they were a barrel of amazing. They have so many great songs, but every time, no matter what, I just end up being such a sucker for "Lake Michigan". I mean with a two minute drum intro, who can resist?

Please enjoy my iphone's crappy take on said drum intro. Though you can't see much, you can hear everything, and oh the sound my friends. Oh the sound!

Ok I'm going to start mentally preparing myself for Arcade Fire. Can you believe it? I love this city. And by this city I mean Minneapolis/St. Paul. I don't discriminate.



Update!! Arcade Fire was so good my eyeballs fell out of my head then I had to clean them and put them back in. I waited the WHOLE CONCERT for this song and by gum, it came. The finale of the finale. I start uncontrollably dancing in the end so...sorry for the shakiness. Kind of. Ok no I'm not sorry.

Fun with Finnegans!

Last night the Brave New Workshop kicked off the newest student performance season and to celebrate, they had a party afterward. When Steph (my lover from another mother) got wind of free Finnegans, I blinked and she was at the bar.

She runs for two reasons, she says. Beer, and the bus. That, combined with her "no you didn't" face, is why I love her.

Chameleon Man

I've done a lot of traveling this summer, mostly for work. As the months went by I became intimate with the likes of San Francisco, Seattle, Austin, Atlanta, Charlotte, and up and down WI and MN. But never, not once, have I come across a lizard impression quite this accurate.



I'm so proud.

Seattle is for scooters.

I'm in Seattle at a conference for work, and I decided to bring my beef along because he's super fun and we've both never been to Seattle. We've done lots of cool things so far, like hang around Pike Place Market, see TheaterSports, eat delicious food, hang out in our sweet hotel room, etc. But nothing - NOTHING - tops the moment that I walked out of the conference yesterday, peered around looking for Tom, and then saw him at the bottom of a huge set of stairs, standing next to a scooter, holding two helmets.

Let me just tell you that scooters...are...incredible. The wind in your face! The ease of use! Gliding in and out of lanes! Feeling every bump! We drove up the coast to Ballard and around the downtown area and it was pure perfection except for ONE thing. Some of the hills in Seattle are San Francisco-steep and two times, I kid you not, I had to get off the scooter for Tom to be able to get the scooter up the hill. No worries though. You can't get angry on a scooter! I mean c'mon.

We took a break from our glee-fest to take a short video for your pure enjoyment. I encourage you to picture yourself on the scooter with us, having the time of your life. Try not to move too much though because we might tip over, ok?

So proud of us! One show left.

Zombie High School!

Just so my little bloggy doesn't feel neglected

Hi!

My life this month has been working 8 hours a day, rehearsing approximately 7-11 on weeknights and for dozens of hours on the weekends (ZHS opens Saturday!), and playing with my new iphone until I fall asleep.

So, in picture form that is this:



this:
and this:


Which leads me to my next point. HOW GREAT IS ANGRY BIRDS? Anyone? Who's with me?

Mama will be back in 2 weeks, shhhhh, don't worry.

Afternoon Delight

I got a new iphone! Here's an adorable picture of me trying to "download apps" on my first day. One of my favorite apps is called Dragon Dictation. As a person who has spent hundreds of tedious, eyeball-bleeding hours transcribing audio interviews, I appreciate the app's ability to convert my speech into text, and then allow me to email, text, facebook, or tweet the message to a person of my pleasing.

Here's the thing though. Dragon Dictation isn't exactly...accurate. Especially when you sing to it, which of course you would. You're familiar with the 1976 lovable hit "Afternoon Delight" by the Starlight Vocal Band, yes? Or maybe Will Ferrel's a cappella version in Anchorman? Well I serenaded Grape (my iphone) last night and I will provide you with the original lyrics, and then the app's version of what I sang.

Original lyrics:

Gonna find my baby, gonna hold her tight

gonna grab some afternoon delight

My motto's always been when it's right it's right

Why wait until the middle of a cold dark night

When everything's a little clearer in the light of day

And you know the night is always gonna be there anyway

Dragon Dictation's version of what I sang:

Can you send them baby killers old phone tag

planning grants the master noon be mad

I started doing family that sad it's sad

When I went and seen the man has a cool tag match

Where everything is A-OK in a matter of JE

Thanks Grape! I love you.

Two more songs!

I'm so excited that I could just pee. Right here.

Preview!

Last night we learned one of my songs! Here's our first run through.

Troy teaches us how to walk like zombies.

What did you get on your ZAT's?

I haven't had much of a life lately, and that's because I have rehearsal five nights a week for three to four hours a night. For what, you say? Great question. My a cappella group wrote a musical. An a cappella musical. About zombies. For the Fringe Festival in August. It's pretty much going to bring the house down.

So here's the sitch. It's called Zombie High School. In the play, the Zombie Apocalypse has come and gone, and now the undead and humans are trying desperately to coexist. A young human student, Maggie Mulligan, decides to brave all obstacles and become an exchange student at a high school for zombies in order to learn more about their culture. However, in the folly of youth, Maggie ends up biting off more than she can chew. RIGHT? Right.

All I can tell you is, I'm Maggie, and you're going to love it. It will literally make you die with joy.

"Zombie High School"
@ Mixed Blood Theater

8/7 5:30 p.m.
8/8 7:00 p.m.
8/9 5:30 p.m.
8/10 10:00 p.m.
8/14 8:30 p.m.

Stop leaving me notes, Minneapolis!

Three notes. I've gotten three passive aggressive notes in the last month from strangers commenting on my behavior. Three finicky messages, referencing three different forms of my transportation. C'mon people!

1. The first note, slipped under my apartment door, on pink stationary:

"STOP slamming your door. Your door slamming is out of control. You are bothering people on MORE THAN ONE FLOOR. PLEASE. STOP."

To be fair, our carpet was just ripped up in the hallway and as soon as you let the hallway door slip from your hands, it slams on its own. When I'm carrying my bike up and down two floors, gently letting the door close behind me has admittedly not been my #1 priority. After I got the note, I started being much more careful about the doors, but the note seemed like a huge overreaction. As it turned out, it was. A week later, Steph and I were leaving my apartment and we got stopped in the hall by a large, husky man that slowly sauntered into the hallway as soon as he heard us out there. He shuffled toward me with a sly look on his face and said "You the door slammer?" as he held out his hand for a shake. I took his hand and said "No". He stared into my face, not letting go of his firm hold on my hand, and told me that his girlfriend lives here and he's a veteran and when doors slam at night he thinks they're gun shots and it has to stop. I told him I really haven't been slamming doors and I'm hardly ever even at my apartment. "I think it's the girl next to you," he said. "I met her and she seemed nice, but...she's not. She's not nice at all." I told him I didn't think any of us are intentionally slamming doors and that he should probably call our landlord and ask for the carpet to be reinstalled. "Anna - just stop. Stop it. Stop right there," he said. "I'm on your side." And then, just to heap on to the level of creep, he says, "I've been watching you out back in the parking lot. Your hair looks really nice when it's up. You should wear it like that more often." Needless to say, I've been zooming in and out of this house like a squirrel in traffic ever since, never stopping to linger outside.

2. The second, a note precisely written out and delicately taped to the handle of my bicycle, which was parked outside a friend's house during our rehearsal:

"What kind of a person would park a bike in front of someone's sidewalk?"

I'm going to draw a mental picture for you of what was going on here. My friend's house is a duplex that is up on a very small hill, so it has two separate cement walkways that start with a small set of stairs then lead up to each doorway in front of the house. Now, it was later at night so I parked my bike in front of his neighbor's walkway, but didn't think it was a big deal because I knew they had a baby so they probably weren't out late, and anyone could take ONE step to the side to get to the second step. Easy peasy, right? WRONG. Apparently I'm a terrible person. But I mean really. Who leaves a note on a bike? Perplexed, I stood there holding the note for a while, then decided the proper thing to do would be to tape the note back on their first step in order to shame them in the morning when they discovered my bike gone and their anal retentiveness staring them in the face. Shame! Shame on unnecessary note writers!

3. A two-page letter, pages numbered, with a scrap of paper taped to the second page to elongate the message, written in black sharpie and found underneath my windshield wiper. All caps. Location: the one-way street in front of my beef's house.

"Hey! I just wanted to take a minute to thank you for parking here. Seriously, great job. Please park here often. You'd be surprised how many jerkoffs and J-holes park here. No permits, 3 feet from the curb, expired tabs, just a MESS. You, however, are the exception. You keep Fremont going! Thanks! --Fremont Neighborhood Association (FNA) est. 2010"

Well I tell you, my day was MADE. After staring at the note for about five minutes and determining that it wasn't sarcastic, that it was likely from an overly-dorky neighborhood association member who genuinely was thankful that I had a permit and did a good parking job, a calm came over me. It was as if the universe was saying "Hey Anna. Don't even think about those first two notes. This third note is a message for you from Minneapolis, nay, the world, that you are doing a good job here on Earth. From your parking job to your permit-having to frankly being just a great person, I just wanted to say, well, thanks." I drove away with a smile stretched ear to ear thinking that some stranger out there took the time to write me a two-page letter THANKING me for my behavior. I was doing ok.

The next day, with a spring in my step, I remembered that I hadn't told my bf about the note I got in front of his house yet! "Hey - I forgot to tell you what I found on my car the other day!" I said, to which he replied, "Oh, you got my note??"

GREAT.

Happy fats.

Guess what? Everything's going well in your life, you've got great friends, you've got a boyfriend, work is good, living situation is great, the weather's getting warmer, the dinners are lasting longer, the beer is flowing harder, the gym membership is canceled, you're going to family reunions, hanging out at the lake, the new tires on your bike require less effort, you're seeing movies which require candy, the snacks are flowing like the mighty Mississipi...

BOOM. You've got the happy fats. Or more accurately, I've got the happy fats.

Look, I love my boyfriend. And bless him for being a big fan of me whatever size I am (and for being boy enough not to know the difference) but I've gained ELEVEN POUNDS since I started dating him. I think there might be some element of "letting myself go" but honestly I'm just a happy eater. If I'm even a little lonely or depressed I just don't have an appetite. If I'm happy, it's Anna-delicious-food-eating-fun-time. And then there's the social aspect. You're making dinner for each other, you're grilling out for your friends, you're having lady dates to keep up with your gal pals, and the fun times almost always involve some aspect of food. Doesn't sound too bad right?

But seriously. I had to buy new pants. And shorts. And skirts. And that shit gets expensive! To cut down on the sloppy body I started standing at work, so now I'm one of those weird "standers" whose head rises far above the cubical walls confusing passers-by and coworkers. A dude who shares a cube wall with me and doesn't understand the concept of a standing desk kept trying to order McDonalds from me during my first week of standing. But I'm finding all that standing is doing is making me rock back and forth all the time making my feet kill. So.

I'm not too worried about it - AT THIS POINT. I don't think I've reached whale-status yet, and I'm planning on the weight gain plateauing at, well, at 5 pounds ago, and it's summer so I'll keep biking and eating vegetables and crap but I think in the long run, I prefer happy eats to the rockin' body that comes with somber, foodless stretches of inactivity and lonely nights. Although I suppose I could just become a sad eater too. Yeah! Maybe I'll do that.

Naaaaaaaaaaah. Pass the chimichangas!

I hate Twitter!

I got Twitter hacked today. I don't even use it. I tweet something stupid maybe once every other month. No, I don't have an obvious password and no, I don't click on weird links from DM's.

Yet, 132 people that I follow got a direct message from me telling them if they're interested, they can get a gas card from [insert spam link here] followed by - and this is the worst part - "I got mine today and I'm *stoked*!!"

People won't stop talking about it and sending me emails about it, and at work our social media editor is sending out a company-wide email warning people about Twitter spam, using ME as an example.

Allow me to express my frustration and sadness via this puppy.

No, it's not throat pornography.

I just had my final vocal appointment today (YAY!) and I wanted to share my vocal nodule progress with you for the following reasons:

a.) I'm proud of it.
b.) I promised my doc and vocal therapist that I would blog these pictures.
c.) You think they look gross and that makes me giggle.
d.) Because c'mon, how cool is the inside of a body?

It's been a long journey my peeps! Lots of humming and phrasing and practice and rest and missing choir and missing yelling and missing singing loudly but you can see some progress and I promise you in a couple months it will be even better. Less bumpy. Whiter. Closer to normal.

I love my dentist!

Here is a list of reasons why I love my dentist.

1. The office is conveniently located in my skyway at work. That way I can run full-speed through the halls when I realize I am extremely late.

2. They send me text reminders like 80 times leading up to my appointment which are essential to me actually ever showing up.

3. The staff sends out quarterly newsletters that detail the intricacies of each employee's personal life, as in who is taking yoga classes, who has children starting to drive, who is taking exotic vacations, etc., and they include photos of their staff picnic. Which is adorbs.

4. My dentist plays pranks on me. For example, I once had a cavity and he sat me down and very gravely explained that the only option to save my mouth was to install a grill over the front of my teeth. "We're going to need you to bling it up," he said. The nurse added that it has to be diamond-studded.

5. They just upgraded to this awesome prize pack after every appointment! For freesies!

Just look at that blushing bride!

I don't know if you've heard the news, but my fellow lady-pirate is officially betrothed! I think it's your job and mine to prepare her for her impending nuptials by offering her nothing but the finest choices in wedding wear. Let us take her on a visual tour of the possibilities, shall we?