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While My Boyfriend Was Sleeping

What I write after Joe and Henry go to bed

Archives for February 2010

In appreciation of what I do for a living

February 24, 2010 by heidi 4 Comments

Sarasota guitar player

Most of the time I take what I do for granted.

I think it comes with the job, or at least eventually it does. In the beginning, I used to get high off the fact that people told me things for no good reason other than I was a reporter and they were being asked questions. I won’t get into the psychosis behind why people feel compelled to reveal so much to a complete stranger because journalist-turned-egomaniac Chuck Klosterman did a pretty good job of exploring the subject in the first chapter of his latest pop culture manifesto, Eating the Dinosaur.

I’ve been interviewing people since I was 16 years old, documenting their triumphs and tragedies and the minutia in between, trying each time to make it seem as if I wasn’t a reporter but a fly on the wall. Hopelessly unobtrusive.

The goal of a feature writer (most of the the time) is to render a story from the advantage of having observed a person in their natural environment, which to be honest, is an advantage few journalists have. The construct of the natural environment is perverted by the mere presence of a journalist, so unless you’re reporting undercover (or an amazingly gifted reporter freelancing for Esquire and best friends with your subject) the people you interview are usually hyper-aware of the fact that what they’re saying will be quoted, misquoted, interpreted and misinterpreted.

For some people, being interviewed and written about is the ultimate validation. For others, it’s painful. Some people would rather retake their high school SATS than sit down with a reporter and answer questions. Other people can’t avoid it. It comes with their job. They’re in positions that people want to know about. They do things that are interesting. They create things that are clever or participate in things that are entertaining.

Mostly, these are the people I talk to.

[Read more…]

Every girl needs a little black pug

February 20, 2010 by heidi 11 Comments

We attended the Sarasota Pug Parade today. If you’re laughing right now, that’s OK. It’s something us pug owners are accustomed to. We’re loons. We dress our pugs in costume and force them down a catwalk. The event is such a draw I’ve met pug owners from as faraway as INDIANA. The parade, which began 13 years ago in downtown Sarasota, grew so rapidly it relocated further east to a park in Lakewood Ranch (home of Dick Vitale) and is such a big deal it’s sponsored by Sarasota Magazine, a very glossy, very posh publication.

Anyway. I was totally in my element this morning, snatching poor, defenseless pugs from their kooky owners. Lately, I’ve been coveting a little black one, so as soon as I spotted this Tootsie Roll I asked its owner if I could hold her. He handed the pup over without hesitation and told me her name was Tasha. Joe snapped a photo and I started planning my escape, which is why in the background of this photo you can see the pug’s female owner approaching quickly. She knew I couldn’t be trusted.

Also, I find it amazing that I can remember dog names, but never people names.

[Read more…]

The TV exploded and my husband cried

February 17, 2010 by heidi 10 Comments

This is a true story. And the only reason you’re reading about it is because it’s been resolved.

Let me start it by saying Joe is sitting in front of our new 55-inch Samsung flat screen television watching last night’s episode of Lost. The look of contentment on his face is something neither I, nor any other human, is capable of evoking. It is a Cheshire cat grin basked in the glow of a very expensive machine mounted four feet off the ground. It is the look of sweet relief usually seen on the faces of mothers, who after hours of labor, reach out to cradle their newborn babies. For Joe it is a state of solace only fiber optic cables transmitting a HD signal could offer.

It is the Wonka Bar to his Augustus Gloop. The crack cocaine to his Whitney Houston.

It is a whale of a TV, so sharp and un-pixalated that my brain can barely discern what’s happening for real in my living room, from what’s happening inside the LCD panel hanging on my wall. Of course it does nothing for me. Of course I balked at the purchase. Of course I wanted a kayak instead. At $1,600, I whined that we could get two kayaks for the price of one TV. But since my husband has agonized over this purchase since the day we met, I knew it was only a matter of time before we drilled a dozen holes in our wall and attempted to heft a 70-lb. television onto a metal bracket, oblivious as to whether or not we hit studs.

The man really, really loves his TV.

[Read more…]

Timmy Ho’s cracks down on crybabies

February 9, 2010 by heidi 9 Comments

My beloved Canuck coffee chain has banned a man in Canada for repeatedly being a pain in the ass.

The CBC News story describes the dude as a “coffee enthusiast” who after complaining several times about receiving burnt decaf coffee, was banned for life from a Tim Horton’s in the province of New Brunswick.

You’re pissing and moaning about decaf? You’re a coffee enthusiast who drinks decaf? Put a lid on it, you meddling crank. You’re like a beer enthusiast who bitches about O’Doul’s. I would have banned you too.

Strange things are afoot at the Circle K

February 8, 2010 by heidi 3 Comments

gas gift card receipts

I found these yellow receipts a couple weeks ago stuffed in a paper bag in my car’s glovebox. I was so totally confused as to where they came from that I stared at them for a minute, studying the name of the convenient store –– Circle K. And then I started laughing because my favorite movie quote involves a Circle K (and the late great George Carlin).

[Read more…]

At least when voice mail piles up it doesn’t collect dust.

February 1, 2010 by heidi 12 Comments

I’m a recovering pack rat, but sometimes I regress. Tonight I transcribed 14 saved voice mail messages dating back to 2007. It was as much a practical exercise as it was a display of my neurotic compulsion to document everything. I have no space left for voice mails and text messages. My mailbox is always full. I was forced to make room.

But before I purged these 14 messages from my voice mail memory, I decided to post them here. I’ve held onto them for very specific reasons, most of which will be completely meaningless to you:

……

1. “Hey cutie pie, baby pie, sweetums, lovey cakes. I hope this means you’re buying oak tag or poster board. It is 6:30 and I just walked into my house. I’ll be on the road about a quarter-to-seven, so call me back if you like, otherwise I’ll see you when I see you.” ♥

– From Joe when we first started dating. The poster board he’s referring to was used to make two giant Chinese takeout containers for a costume party at a bar in downtown Sarasota.

2. “Hey Heidi. I just got my grades back from my first essay and I got an 85, so I didn’t do as bad as I thought I would. The teacher said I ended the story too abruptly and I had a semi-colon in a place where I should have had a colon, but everything else was great, so thank you very much. I miss the heck outta ya.” ♥

– From my friend Chris, who I worked with at a marble yard during my two-year hiatus from journalism. Not long after I left the marble biz, Chris decided to go to college to pursue an engineering degree. He left me this message after I helped him with an English essay.

[Read more…]

Why do I even blogger?

If you really want to know why I continue to write here, read this post.

Lance lately

  • Old School Values
  • Land of Hives and Honey
  • The Happy Camper
  • Truth Bombs with Henry [No. 2]
  • Truth Bombs with Henry [No. 1]
  • By now I’d have two kids

Social commentary

  • Crystal on Pug worries, or what to do when your dog starts having seizures
  • heidi on Land of Hives and Honey
  • Roberta Kendall on Land of Hives and Honey
  • Jane on Pug worries, or what to do when your dog starts having seizures
  • reb on The Happy Camper

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Oddities

Reading material

Wild by Cheryl Strayed Travels with Charley Home Game bossypants just kids the time travelers wife Boys Life The-Liars-Club My Uncle Oswald Stephen King On Writing

Me.

Heidi K

Joe.

Joe on guitar

Henry.

henry as werewolf

Chip.

Chippy in a cupboard

Buzzy.

Buzzy

Why Lance?

This blog is named after my old friend Sarah's manifestation of a dreamy Wyoming cowboy named Lance, because the word blog sounds like something that comes out of a person's nose.

About me

I'm a journalist who spends my Mondays through Fridays writing other people's stories, a chronic procrastinator who needs structure. I once quit my job to write a book and like most writers, I made up excuses why I couldn't keep at it.

My boyfriend fiancé husband Joe likes to sleep in late on the weekends, but since we have a kid now that happens less than he'd like.

Before Henry and Chip, I used to spend my mornings browsing celebrity tabloid websites while our dog snored under the covers. Now I hide my computer in spots my feral children can't reach because everything I own is now broken, stained or peed on.

I created Lance in an attempt to better spend my free time. I thought it might jump start a second attempt at writing a novel.

It hasn't. And my free time is gone.

But I'm still here writing.

I'm 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 and I've yet to get caught up in something else, which is kind of a big deal for a chronic procrastinator.

How I met Joe

If you're new here and looking for nirvana, read this post.

And if that’s not enough…

heidikurpiela.com

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