These are my first ever words entered into a computer purchased by me, moi, myself.

I feel so grown up!

When I first started my Silicon Valley career, I resisted the whole computer-at-home thing. I knew that once I got a home computer, I’d be doing technical support all day, every day.

I think I’ll just use it for writing and e-mail and USENET. It’s been mentioned to me by higher-ups that one-third of the incoming Internet traffic at my present company goes to my computer. It’s also been mentioned that I might want to cut down on that a bit (I swear, 90% is for research. Honest! Infoseek loves me, and I love Infoseek. Plus, I have pen pals to keep up with.).

So, once I got my domain-name settlement (they reimbursed me for the time it would take for me to re-do the graphics on my Web page) I sought out my coveted steed: Macintosh PowerBook Duo 2300c. I mentioned to Dragon that he would do well to send any sale listings my way. He had a phone number and full pricing for me within 20 minutes.

The Duo 2300c is now discontinued. I don’t understand why… it’s truly adorable. I bought a 32 MB RAM simm for it, to add to the 8 MB simm already on the board. So now I’m screaming along at 40 MB. I told Brandon that tonight and he said “Wow! That’s fast!” He’s a difficult one to impress so I’m rather tickled.

Of course, it didn’t come with *any* modem software, so I couldn’t get the modem to dial out so I could FTP my Internet tools. Sigh.

But, I got Word on it, and I even named it today.

What did I name it?

Why, “woohoo”, of course!

I haven’t written in almost a month. It’s not because I’m blocked. It’s because I’m torn.

I’m torn between wanting kiss my ex-beau and yet wanting to shake him till his eyes rattle around in his head.

I’m torn between wanting to live “chastely in singlehood” (a new edict by the Presbyterian church for all people who want to attain positions of respect and power therein) and yet wanting to go out and have incredible escapades with any of half a dozen guys.

Between my desire to be a good girl, and my desire to party it up.

Between being the sweet, understanding one and wanting to be a bitch on wheels.

Between wanting to be young and single and wanting to be married and pregnant.

I feel like I’m 12 years old again. My hormones are in full force but I’m not really sure what to do with them. I’m an adviser for the junior high youth group at my church and when I look at the girls I see myself mirrored in them.

A lot of this probably stems from the fact that I’m single again after four years of monogamy. It’s really quite a change. The last time I didn’t have a long-term boyfriend (or a serious beau) I was 20 years old.

My roommate doesn’t understand why I’m not pursuing a full-time romantic relationship when he knows (and I know) that’s what I want. His suggestion is “Go for it.” This week he said, “Lynn, I hope you’re not just holding out for the perfect man because you’re never going to find him.”

But why should I give my time, my effort and myself to a specific man if I’m not certain he’s the one I really want to be with?

It’s tough when your greatest fear is that of being alone, but you’re not sure your attention span will ever allow you to spend the rest of your life with just one person, despite the fact that your number-one goal in life is to be pregnant and have babies and you know you couldn’t do that without companionship.

Ugh. Is this why women start drinking?

I thought so.

I’ve heard a number of lines in my day:

“Your daddy must’ve been a thief cause he stole the stars out of the sky and put them into your eyes!”

“That’s a nice dress, it would look great on my floor”

“Excuse me, miss, would you like to come upstairs and check out my fishtank?”*

…etc. They’re all pretty stupid and never worked on me. But on Saturday I heard one that took the cake.

I’d arranged to meet my friends Ken and Suzie at a bar in Burlingame on Saturday night. A couple of their friends are in a metal band called Caustic Velocity. We planned to meet at the club at 9:00.

I was a bit early arriving so I got out of my truck and walked toward the bar. As I walked in, two men were walking out. One looked at me and said “Wow.”

I ignored him and entered the club’s foyer. Ken and Suzie weren’t there yet, and I didn’t feel comfortable staying there without a guardian, so I ventured outside again.

The two men were still there, talking. I announced my plan to hang out and wait for my friends. The men finished their conversation and the one who said “wow” turned to me.

“Sooooo. What’s your name?” he asked.

“Lynn.”

“Well, mine’s Lee, and, hypothetically speaking, if we got married, we could have the same monogram on our towels. And this is important, because I was on this game show once and won like 600 monogrammed towels. So this way we wouldn’t have to change them. And then, hypothetically speaking, if we got divorced, you could keep the towels, because what’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is yours.”

He took a breath and I stood there, stunned. Right at that moment some other guy came out to talk to Lee, so I hightailed it back to the parking lot, got in my truck, locked the doors and called my friend Ted on my cell phone to kill time until Ken and Suzie arrived.

Postscript: Later that night, Suzie and I went to the bathroom. I got into the stall and looked at the poster on the inside of the door. It was a flyer for a band coming soon to the club. Whose club? Lee’s club.

*Thanks to Charley for these lovely examples!

My roommate and I just moved. He got a killer deal on a rental house, so my month has been measured in moving boxes. How many packed, how many moved, how many unpacked.

This is my 11th move since 1989. Interestingly enough, it’s my first move north of my original location.

Where I’ve lived:

1971-1973: Plymouth, North Carolina

1973-1975: New Bern, North Carolina

1975-1985: Clayton, California

1985-1989: Lafayette, California

1989-1990: Washburn Hall, San Jose State University

1990 (summer): Walnut Creek, California

Aug. – Sept. 1990: San Jose, California (house)

Sept. 1990-1991: Joe West Hall, San Jose State University

1991 (summer): Walnut Creek, California

1991-1993: San Jose, California (apartment on 3rd St.)

1993-1994: San Jose, California (house on 8th St. between San Fernando and Santa Clara Streets, we’re talking Crack central)

1994-1995: Apartment off Moffett Ave. in Mountain View, CA

1995-1996: Apartment off Shoreline Blvd. in Mountain View, CA

1996-March 1997: Apartment in San Carlos, CA

1997: House in Redwood City, CA

Pretty insane, isn’t it?

Thanks to Alex, this move went very well. He told me that so long as I packed all my stuff and put it in the living room, he’d take care of moving it. In return, I cleaned the old apartment for our move-out inspection. I’m pleased to say that 10 hours later, the apartment was cleaner than it was when we moved in. 🙂

The new house is really incredible. We’re renting it. It was built in 1957 and has all the original tile work. My oven is pink with chrome details and perfectly matches my pink 1957 Cadillac cookie jar. Gas oven, gas burners, with an exhaust fan that looks like something on the wing of a commercial-grade airplane. There’s also an ironing board that folds down from the wall, Murphy-bed style.

The bathroom is a riot. The shower is tiled in a pucey-lime green. Let me tell you how attractive one feels when one gets naked at 8:00 a.m., enters the shower, looks at her skin and is green. Ick.

My bedroom is larger than the room I had in my previous apartment, which is a good thing because there was barely room for simeultaneous bedroom occupation by me and my cat in the old place. 🙂 There’s a big window for afternoon sunlight and hardwood floors, with lovely woodworking around the doors.

Plus, it’s the first time since I lived at my parents’ house that I haven’t had an apartment or room number in my address. And I can go ahead and spend all my quarters on pinball because we have a laundry room with a non-coin-operated washer and dryer.

Does this mean I’m a grownup now?

Follow these suggestions and you’ll look just like me! Uh, yeah. Whatever. Most of these tips are androgynous, but #’s 2 and 7 are more female-focused.

1) Carmex! This is wonderful, wonderful lip protector stuff. A former beau turned me on to it. I always put it on before I go running in cold weather — it is the only product that has kept my lips from cracking (yummy).

Carmex is cheap! For $1.19 you get a 1/4 oz. vat, which doesn’t sound like much but it lasts forever.

Incidentally, the third “active ingredient” listed on the side of the Carmex cap is alum, which is the product that made the opera singer’s voice all high and squeaky in that Bugs Bunny cartoon. So be careful and for goodness sake, don’t swallow the stuff!

Bonus tip: To make your lipstick last all day long, apply Carmex to your bare lips, then use your lip liner to color in your lips, then apply lipstick over that. Your lipstick will last longer without drying out.

2) Eyelash curler! This product is poked fun at on every TV sitcom featuring clueless men in America. They pick it up and squeeze the handles together, wondering what it is. Well, let the mystery end: It’s an eyelash curler. Just open the handles, put your eyelashes in the slit and squeeze the handles together. Release the handles and viola!, curled eyelashes.

CAVEAT: Be careful when inserting eyelashes that you don’t also insert your eyelid. Ouch! Also, if you wear mascara, be sure to curl your eyelashes before applying mascara.

3) Nivea No-Oil Moisture Hydrogel! Wonderful moisturizer that doesn’t make one’s face break out. Highly recommended. It’s kind of pricey (around eight dollars), but you can find it in grocery stores so you don’t have to dress up and go to Nordstrom or anything like that.

4) Tom’s of Maine Spearmint toothpaste! I have a friend who swears by the cinnamon flavor, but I’ve found that is too spicy for me (and my tender girl gums) so I stick to the Spearmint or Wintergreen flavors. Also, be sure to change your toothbrush every three months, and always buy a new one after you’ve been ill.

5) Lots of water. Hydration is good for the soul. Plus, the more water you drink, the more breaks you can take at work. 🙂

6) Kisses! Kisses! And more kisses! Puffy lips are in!

7) MAC nail polish! I especially like “Alumina” and “Blade”. Don’t forget your toenails, too!

Why indeed. A few years ago I was hanging out with my buddy Steve Sloan in his office and David Bowie’s “Young American” was playing on his CD player. He told me that the song reminded him of me. Since I’m not going to be young all my life (only most of it), I figured that I’d borrow from Tom Petty’s “American Girl”, and www.americangirl.com was born!

Unfortunately for me, a company that will not be named (publishers of a magazine called “American Girl”‘a8 and various other merchandise) didn’t appreciate that I had americangirl.com, which they wanted for their own Web site. They had their lawyer send me a nasty letter. I called Stan Bunger at New Media News and he interviewed me for TV. And I didn’t give up the domain name.

So after another month, the company had Network Solutions (AKA the InterNIC) put www.americangirl.com on hold for “trademark infringement”.

The InterNIC said I could pick another name for simultaneous use, so I chose americangrrl.com, which has more of an edge than my original name (LynnB trivia: I thought of that name during the movie “Fierce Creatures”, which features many growly animals). I registered www.americangrrl.com. The company wanted the right to approve my new domain name, though, and when I told them my alternate choice they about had kittens.

So I didn’t hear from them for a few weeks until Monday, Feb. 24 at 9:10 p.m., when there was a knock on my apartment door. I opened it and there stood a guy who hadn’t washed his hair in a month, wearing a T-shirt that hung to his knees and was screened with large brown splotches with the charming caption “Who Farted?”. He looked at me.

“Lynn Benson?” he asked.

I squeaked back, “Yes.”

Woo hoo, I got served. Deeeeelightful. At least the messenger got lost on his way to my apartment and had to drive around for an hour.

So, in order to keep them from being “entitled to sue” me “in Federal Court and to recover from” me “damages, including all of [the company’s] attorneys’ fees incurred in prosecuting its lawsuit”* against me, I canceled both my americangirl and americangrrl domains, replacing them with “motormouth.com”, which has nothing to do with my citizenship or my gender, and is actually the nickname bestowed upon me by my father when I was two years old.

Aren’t you glad you asked? But I’m not bitter or anything.

😉

*Quoted from a letter from Farella Braun and Martel LLP, dated Feb. 24, 1997, and served to me by Prince Charming

Whew. I’d like to apologize for the horrible attitude displayed in my Valentine’s Day column. Lest you all think that my beau deserted me, we did go out to dinner on Feb. 13th.

Valentine’s Day Eve is a much better time to go out, anyway. Most importantly, nobody goes out the night before V-Day, so getting a reservation is no problem. I mean, how can you be romantic when you’re surrounded by other couples overtly exuding romance?

Also, if you’re into public adoration (you might have noticed by now that that’s one of my favorite things), it’s more fun to go out on Feb. 13th because the other folks in the restaurant will look at you and your significant other and think to themselves, “Oh, isn’t that sweet!”

So I’m feeling much better today. It’s the Tuesday after a three-day weekend. The best thing about a three-day weekend is the subsequent four-day work week!

It’s time to go running now. Later!

P.S. Let the record show that the beau in question came over the night I wrote this, and that there were flowers involved. 🙂

Valentine’s Day used to be my favorite holiday. I loved the fact that there was a day where you could get presents and cards and chocolate without anyone having to die, a day where love was the answer, a day where…

…nevermind. Anyway, that was obviously then and this is obviously now.

Can you tell it was a bummer day? This is how I spent the evening of Friday, February 14th: Watching “Crusty Demons of Dirt II” (a dirt-biking video) for the third time with my roommate and his buddy Blaze as they ate all of my Valentine’s candy that I bought for myself to ensure that I’d *get* Valentine’s day candy, and it’s a good darn thing I did because there were no flowers, there was no candy, there wasn’t anything other than dirt-bike racing on the TV as I sat back and thought to myself “There must be more to life than this?”

This wasn’t my worst V-Day ever, though. The worst one I ever had was when I was a sophomore in high school. I’d had my wisdom teeth dug out of my head the day before (on Friday the 13th of February), and spent Saturday in pain and bleeding. I’d broken up with my first ever real boyfriend a few weeks before, so there were (again) no flowers, no candy, hell, not even any crusty demons of dirt.

Sure, there have been good Valentine’s Days. Probably the best one I’ve had (with no offense to anyone I’ve ever spent Valentine’s Day with, you know who you are) was when I was a sophomore in college. None of my friends had plans for the evening, so I had a Feb. 14th “Anti-Valentine’s Day” party. Everyone was required to wear black. The drink of the evening was Mountain Drool (Mountain Dew, lemon and vodka), which made for a bunch of really hyper drunk people. Next thing I knew all the smokers were over by the window, the drunks were over by the punchbowl, five people left with the 12th floor Residence Advisor so she could get them all stoned, and two people disappeared for 20 minutes — I later found out that they’d gone back to a dorm room, had sex and come back to the party. Ahhhh, youth. The door prizes were these little toy sheriff’s kits, replete with spurs, badge and handcuffs. Yee haw.

So, isn’t it time for Easter yet? I need to catch up on my free chocolate consumption. At least the Easter Bunny won’t let me down…

December 26th is always such a letdown. And whomever decided that Christmas should be on a Wednesday this year ought to be shot. I had to work on both Tuesday (half day) and Thursday, which didn’t leave much time to relax and reflect upon the holiday. Bummer.

The thing that sticks out most in my mind from this holiday was decorating my roommate’s (Alex) parents’ house.

I went to my Alex’s parents’ house to help them decorate for Christmas. They have a lovely country home in the mountains of Woodside. The front of their house was done up in white lights and it looked like a gingerbread house come to life. Absolutely breathtaking.

Alex’s job was to put the white lights on the tree. He’s quite the lightmaster — when he’s done with each strand the lights look like they grew from the fir branches. I helped by lighting the less-important backside of the tree.

Michele, Alex’s stepmom, insisted that the lights stay lit. “I don’t want them to blink. I want them to twinkle. Damn, I should have bought the twinkle lights.”

Alex made one light strand blink. “C’mon, Michele, these twinkle.”

“No,” she responded. “Twinkling is random. These blink.”

Our buddy Dave and his French girlfriend were supposed to join us but flaked out. “How long has she been in town?” I kidded Alex. “How long has she been French?” his father retaliated. We laughed.

Lighting the tree took hours, and many more light strands than anyone had anticipated. Alex’s friend Blaine arrived and he and I worked on getting the bum light strands to light. It was much more fun than it sounds, but I think the wine Alex’s dad gave me helped with that.

One strand would light, then go out, then light, then go out. Blaine and I tightened all the bulbs but to no avail. I looked at him. “They’re twinkling!” We warned Alex about the bum strand, and then I moved a few feet away to the landing. The tree looked so beautiful. I could only say “ohhhhh” whenever I looked at it. Alex said he was going to smack me but Michele loved it.

Many years ago, Michele wrapped a bunch of empty boxes in festive paper and bows. The bows were flat and lifeless so I set to work fluffing them. As Blaine was unoccupied I invited him to fluff bows with me. I took to the work with great enthusiasm. Blaine looked at me.

“You’d make someone a wonderful daughter.”

Time stopped. I blushed. It was the most beautiful compliment I’ve ever received. I wanted to ask him to call my father and tell him that.

Dave and his girlfriend never did show, so we tore into the Honeybaked ham (yummmm) and made sandwiches. When we were all sitting down with dinner Michele looked at the tree.

“Hey, one of those light strands keeps going out.”

“They’re twinkling,” we admonished.

I love the media. Must be my past life as a college journalist. Interesting situations tend to find me, as do interesting reporters:

* The interview that was televised on New Media News when American Girl threatened me with trademark infringement. This was syndicated globally. I have a pen-pal in Brazil who initially wrote to me because he saw me on TV. Pretty cool!

* Office politics. I don’t know why the reporter thought that I’d have anything to say about that topic, and it was tough to find something I could say on-the-record, but I managed…

* My most exciting appearance in 1998 was an article in Baylife, a special section produced for the Sunday, March 8 issue of the San Francisco Examiner. This was the second of a three-part section, and discussed present-day life in the Bay Area. Here’s what reporter Brenda L. Moore had to say about me:

Motormouth, 26, grew up in the East Bay, graduated from San Jose State, lives in Redwood City and works in San Francisco.

She loves her living arrangements – a shared, three-bedroom house with a nice kitchen and garden. Her portion of the rent is $775 a month.

She loves the location – great neighbors, close to her family in Walnut Creek, and to her boyfriend in San Francisco.

She loves the weather, suitable for outdoor activities like running, biking and swimming that appeal to a triathlete like Motormouth.

She loves her job – marketing and communications director at IBIS Consulting, Inc. She got a call to interview there two hours after posting her resume on an Internet job board.

“I wake up every morning and just pinch myself,” she said. She also wakes up pretty early. Her previous job was a mile from home, meaning she could sometimes roll out of bed about 8:30 a.m. and make it there by 9. Now, she said, she gets up between 6 and 7:30 a.m. for a commute that lasts 1.5 to 2 hours.

It’s not that bad, though,” she said, in what seems like characteristic optimism. “It doesn’t seem like that long. I can work on (Caltrain). I can read… I can go for weeks without using my car.”

(Pretty neat, huh? There was even a picture of me reclining on our office pool table, surrounded by Caltrain passes. 🙂