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Thank you all for the birthday wishes. Much appreciated. I am only now catching up with emails and LJ and whatnot. I didn't have much time or web access during the past ten days. Wendy and I were down in Anaheim at Disneyland, which was lovely. I hadn't been there in an unconscionably long time and I had a great time riding rides and prattling on and on to poor Wendy about all the Imagineering trivia stored in my throbbing melon-like skull. And grumbling loudly about various minor changes I disliked. Though I did enjoy the Johnny Depp animatronics in Pirates Of The Caribbean. Every girl should have one, really.

I'm 39 now, which, famously, was Jack Benny's eternal fake age in his radio and television shows. Also, Jack and I were both born on February 14, so I may just stay 39 for the duration, depending on the vagaries of the plastic surgery budget. Which at present is modest.

During the week, we spent some time with my ex-brother-in-law and his ex-wife and their lovely daughter. Somehow, despite all the complications, we're all still family, and that's a very nice thing. We also got to spend a few good hours with [ profile] explosivo on my usual mad incompetent dash to the airport. On my birthday, I was given a huge "happy birthday" button, which contained a hidden mind-control chip causing all the Disney cast members to respond cheerfully with preferential treatment across-the-board. Free food, premium ride seating, frighteningly obsessive birthday greetings, you name it. A good day for the ol' broad.

All of this was not, alas, enough to fend off the exotic collection of Flus From Many Lands to which I was exposed, so I've been sick since I got back. Last night I had a fevered dream where I was filming a Pennebaker-style documentary of a low-key concert starring my dad and Rick Danko from The Band; on the flight home the pilot intentionally crashed the 747 into a group of protesters who for some reason were picketing the flight; the pilot's last words were "Everyone get your cameras out and on the count of three, everybody smile and say DIE!. One---two---three!" and the plane smashed into the ground. Somehow I survived, rescued my recalcitrant ex as well as Melanie Lynskey, and tried to save Shelly Long, who was in steerage with what looked like the pool boy. Ms. Long declined my generous offer of rescue. "Nah," she said, groping the pool boy, "We're gonna stay here and fuck."

Then the plane exploded in a horrible, cheesy, Manimalesque video overlay.

Probably I need antibiotics. I have an insane fever. Also, among countless other similarities, my dad and Rick Danko were the same age when they died. I did not know that.

I don't know much else. I'll try and get caught up on LJ when lucidity permits. Hope you are safe and well.
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I have a superpower. Just the one. I cannot leap tall buildings or make flames shoot out of my nipples* or do anything else that would get me on "Heroes". However, if you blindfold me and set me loose in a thrift store, I will find something rare and cool and possibly valuable for under a dollar in five minutes or less. It's a gift, but it's also a curse: I'll bet when you pack to move, you don't have multiple large boxes in categories like "telephones" or "toasters" or "bakelite radios" or "cameras" or "waffle irons" or "Star Wars toys". I have television sets from every decade since 1948. I own three Betamaxes. I've got a hundred four-track tapes. Do you even know what a four-track tape is? I have three 60-gallon tubs that are packed solid with Legos. I can't even lift 'em. Good news is maybe I could build a human-size house out of the legos?

The lesson here is that I don't thrift shop much these days. Cash flow is not ideal and object-containment capacity is not optimal. But I had some appointments today and I decided to reward myself by spending a couple of bucks.

Result? Three sealed Game Theory LPs (including Lolita Nation).


A complete tabloid insert from the July 15, 1955 issue of the Los Angeles Times. Announcing the opening day at Disneyland. With original full-color concept art, ample written descriptions of rides, themed areas and attractions, and a personal message from ol' Walt himself. On fragile 52-year old newsprint, but intact. I can't even find a reference to its existence online, let alone any pictures.

Net total for the tabloid and the albums together? $3.75.

If I could only find things that were valuable that I didn't want to keep, I could make a fortune. But I suppose that would be wrong. With great thrift-shopping power comes great thrift-shopping responsibility.

I'll scan the Disneyland pages--carefully--as soon as technology permits. It definitely brightened my day.

*optional sport package. as shown, $32,500. your mileage may vary. professional blogger on closed course. do not attempt.


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August 2009

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