Mug Shot

Roommates : Bah'ai

One late night Saturday, my roommate and I were deep in conversation when two guys started knocking on the neighbor's door. And continued. And continued. We peeked underneath our blinds to see what was going on and got caught. Finally, it's our door they were knocking on.
" Um, excuse us but could we borrow paper and pen? "
" Well, I don't know you " I said.
" It's Nicholas, Nico! "
" I don't know a Nico. "
" Well we're just trying to to leave a note for our friend. She's coming into town blah, blah, blah... Seattle... "
" Isn't that what phones are for? "
" Well he doesn't have one and I don't have the phone number. "
" This is kind of weird you know?"
" No no, we're non-threatening. We're bah'ai. Well, he is. "
" Ok, I don't care about your sexuality. "
" Ha no, it's a religion. We like three sexualities. "
I slowly got up to get an index card and pen. I opened the door.
" Do you have a sticky-note? "
" Dude, you're pushing it" said the other, " Maybe some tape? "
" No I don't. Put it in the screen door. "
I shut the door.

This has been a true story.
The End.

Roommates : Hoarse Cat

Our neighbor, we call him Schwinn (more on him later), has a cat named Hoarse Cat. One day it decided to pay us a visit by window pane.

Roommates : BYOP

Although we have yet to have any dinner parties, parties or even friend movie times at our apartment due to our 'mononucleosis' and general anti-social behavior, this is what it would look like if we were to invite you over to share a plate of food.

Roommates : Girls Night In

A daily thought.

Roommates : Oven Mit

Getting our ducks in our row has been quite silly. Gathering all needed utensils, tools and gadgets has led to some innovation and compromise. 

Roommates : Stealing Wifi

I moved into a new apartment. It's perfect and I hardly ever want to leave. However, there are certain quirks that make it that much more of an adventure. I've sketched up some comics to explain the situation.

The Power of Strums

Citrusy

Sometimes life gives you lemons. Or it gives you oranges. Heck, it could even be limes. But you know, you should just make a t shirt design out of it. My brother and I started a t shirt company The Food Porn T Shirt Co. This is one of my favorite designs. We're taking it to the printers in the next upcoming weeks and will hopefully be able to sell them by the beginning of October. 

Criminal

I was in the newspaper. This is how it happened:

Jerome

Sometimes all you need is a whirlwind adventure to an abandoned high school and a drive through the Arizona desert.

Jerome 2013!

Waterfalls and Red Rocks and Calcium Carbonate

At Havasupai the water is the most crystal blue you could ever imagine. The Grand Canyon explodes with the reddest rock on Earth. The luscious green vegetation envelopes this cliffs and complements the blue and red to van Gogh's artistic satisfaction.

 My weekend spent in the wilderness couldn't have been more serene, more challenging or more glorious with sunlight. The 10 mile hike to the waterfalls of Havasupai not only gives you strong glutes but also rejuvenated my love for the outdoors.

Saturday was spent wading and climbing over the rocks of Beaver Falls.

Did you know? The water is naturally blue because calcium carbonate deposits found in the red rocks.

 The 10 miles back to the car were exhausting, hot and so gratifying once I was greeted with a victory collapse in the shade next to the port-a-potty.

A Little Taste

This weekend I went to Havasupai. Here's a little taste of the waterfall wonderland that's there. 

More to come soon...

Narcissism

Is it self involved to have a post of just pictures of me? 

Probably, but it's not very often that I have nice photos of myself. 

Some friends and I went around Flagstaff and took our very own graduation shots. This is the result. All camera credit goes to Rebecca Rice

Hieroglyphs

Now if I was a snazzy artist I would call this 'Mistress'.

 But I'm not, 

so I'm calling it 'I painted some silhouettes on red rocks'.

Dear Comedy Writing

Now I'm not quite sure I've made it quite clear enough yet but I will now. Besides being a traveler, student, worker and general person, I'd also like to be a comedy writer. Like, I'd get to hang out with Liz Lemon all day, shoot the shit, be hilarious and then get paid for it. Like, I'd get to drink Snake Juice with Amy Poehler. Normally, I would say this is ridiculous and a compulsive dream dreamt by most awkward college educated women BUT what you don't know is that I have an 'in'. Now is the best time to strike. The time is now for a lady to develop her sense of humor and get rich; look at Girls, zero to going-to-the-Grammy's in one season flat. It's now or never and I'm ready to throw my two cents into the Fountain of Funny...

It's a manila folder containing my most finest jokes and it starts like this:

Dear Kristin Wiig, (editor's note: she seems the most approachable of the contemporary SNL female dynasty but sending the letter to the entire holy trinity of female comedians is a must)
I would be a great addition to your posse. You see, I'm really funny and have a lot of charm. Sometimes my friends pee their pants and I don't even have to open my mouth. I worry about their dysfunctional bladders but Bernie says he's been giving Mildred her kidney medicine so she should be on the up-and-up. Although it can be quite embarrassing to go out with my ol' gal pals and their Poise panty lines, I have learned to take it more of a compliment and testament to my hilarity than anything. Attached is a list of jokes, scene ideas, my resumé and general quips that I think would add a wealth of toot-scootin-to-boot to the comedy writing process.
Just consider instating me, please and thank you.
Love,
Rebecca L. Asser

Now all I've got to do is cross my fingers, toes and legs and wish real hard.
editor's note: shout out to the most greatest Emma Kelly-Knickerbocker for helping conjure up this most finest idea.

Wearing My Red Welly's in London

Finally got motivated to write a story about one of my favorite adventures : London!

Chapter 1

Did you know that when you fly those cheap flights between various European cities you don’t get peanuts? Nothing salted, nothing honey-roasted and definitely nothing that will parch your thirst. 

I was dropped off at the one hall terminal in the very north of France by one of the farm hands. And just like how the rolling green hills of Brittany frolicked past the car window did they retreat underneath the wonky airplane’s wings. London, where they spoke English again would be my destination. After nine months in a country where grunts were affirmatives, I couldn’t wait to be in a land where they spoke my language in an ever more charming way than home. Although mum wouldn’t pick me up from the airport and whisk me off to my favorite Tex-Mex restaurant, going to a sister country seemed almost just as comforting.

As I landed I was struck by its green charm, even just at the airport. As a converted outdoorswoman, my adventure lied elsewhere: the museums, the arts, the music, the buildings and of course, the music festival I had a ticket for. Now while I wish (now) that I could say that my independence in Old Britain was my idea, I can not take credit. Like a broken bride, I was left at the altar. My partner in crime had missed their flight. My first night in the city was hardly pleasant. I spent it pacing the dimly lit streets around Earl’s Court waiting for news on a flight arriving from Athens. Quickly, I became dependent on the hostel frontman sitting behind the glass window. I realize now that I had broken down his annoyance with me into simple pity as I practically sobbed in front of the Facebook screen that had no reply from my friend. He offered me a bowl of cereal and some tea. I refused three times. Finally, after my final effort by the bus station at four in the morning, I realized my emotional hunger and sat to calm down with some corn flakes and the company of a middle-aged Syrian man. 

The meaning of life seems quite inconsequential in the early morning and thoughts of your friend dead in a plane crash, or on a bus, or kidnapped in a city we hardly know swirl through your head. However, he was adamant on hearing my philosophies and retorting with a painstaking showmanship. While I munched on the corn flakes that always get too soggy before your spoon hits the milk, questions and debates on purpose, enjoying simple pleasures and Tao theories flew through my worrying mind and only seemed to put salt in my wound. 

“Are you happy?” he finally dared. How was I supposed to answer that?! Well, yes… I was? I thought so... But being a foreigner in a foreign country thinking your friend has died and thousands of miles from your American mum hardly makes it easy to think life is all roses. I couldn’t believe his prying eyes and words; my only response was a blubbering sob. I left the cereal for dead and excused myself with a haste. On the way to my room, I realized my possible over-reaction and rudeness and quit my sobbing immediately. Sometimes the greatest personal pep talk is just a simple snap and slap. The mascara partially smeared on the back of my hand would only serve as a reminder of my pact.

As I tucked my streaked face into crunchy hostel sheets and the snoring of large Australians lulled me to sleep I promised myself I would not let this trip be ruined. My friend would be fine, I would run around London in single solidarity and I would do bloody well as I pleased. 

I awoke the next morning feeling hardly refreshed but determined to see what should be seen when one goes to London. Big Ben, check. Westminster Abbey, check. etc. etc. Perhaps what I fell in love with most were the strolls I navigated between all the sights; my map had been folded too many times and tore in crucial creases. I circled where I’d been and tracked the routes I took. However, a daytime later, my feet wore tired. I stumbled upon an interactive culture night at the National Portrait Gallery. They handed me a clipboard and instructed me to draw one of the paintings hanging on the wall. A General-of-High-Nobility, in an all white costume looked demeaningly at me as if knowing that I would never be able to recreate his greatness. However smug his grimace, his head was too small for his body that looked to stand only 5’2’’. His face was crow-like and the hook of his nose seamlessly graced his crooked upper lip while his jet black hair blended into the dark background. Drawing him became a challenge that he himself dared me to take on. I was not going to back down, this regal portrait of an unfortunate looking military man would be my bitch. I became so engrossed I failed to notice the room filling up or the teacher telling all the other participants to put away their supplies. When I came to, a jolly looking Canadian man approached me to show me his rendition. Rather than a leader of army, my curly hair sprung from the pages. He had drawn me.

I left the Gallery exhausted and enthralled. I had spent my entire day listening to music and only muttering single words when ordering coffees. I had convinced myself that my map and I had slipped into our own world that was not shared with anyone else. As the man showed me my cartooned self I realized that I was hardly invisible. And although I didn’t mind falling into silence or my personal daydreams, it was a lovely reminder that there still exists that greater whole. I’d like to have thought that I had fallen to insignificance amongst the great leaders hanging from picture frame hooks, but the Portrait Gallery seemed to have different plans.  

Feeling satisfied, I went to go rest my feet and prepared myself for a whole different world.

Me Sing French One Day

Since I've been working on the ukulele for quite awhile now it's about time I drop my first single. Unfortunately without my lovely lyricists, original verses are hard to come by. 

So I stole this from Edith Piaf.

People Profile, Part 6 : Puppy

Burton George III

People Profile, Part 5: Phall

Mary and I have been exploring the aspens changing up on Mt. Humprey's. Mary is my other lady that I hang out with. Quite opposite of home-bound Mildred, I go exploring, get stuck on dirt roads and visit Sedona vortexes with Miss Mary. She has quite a wealth of knowledge about natural healing and every time we get together I learn something new. Hopefully one day I will be as eccentric as her.