The Harry-est States in America.

This was an Amazon.com survey from all of the Book 7 Pre-orders. From these numbers, the site tallied which cities and states were the highest. Winner of the Harry-est city was def. Falls Church, Virginia--just along the Potomac from where I am stationed. Meanwhile, here is the list of the state rankings. Proud to see that I represented DC in its number one slot. The funniest part, though, are the last few states: it's just what you'd predict. What a sad state of things.

1. District of Columbia
2. Vermont
3. Utah
4. Washington
5. Massachusetts
6. Maine
7. New Hampshire
8. Wyoming
9. Maryland
10. Connecticut
11. Colorado
12. Oregon
13. Virginia
14. Idaho
15. Delaware
16. Rhode Island
17. New York
18. California
19. New Jersey
20. North Dakota
21. Minnesota
22. Alaska
23. Pennsylvania
24. Wisconsin
25. Montana
26. Illinois
27. Nevada
28. New Mexico
29. Michigan
30. Arizona
31. Nebraska
32. Ohio
33. Iowa
34. Missouri
35. North Carolina
36. Kansas
37. Georgia
38. Indiana
39. Tennessee
40. Florida
41. Texas
42. South Dakota
43. Hawaii
44. Kentucky
45. West Virginia
46. Oklahoma
47. South Carolina
48. Louisiana
49. Alabama
50. Arkansas
51. Mississippi

The day I received the perfect haircut.

Ever since I cared about haircuts (which started very recently, mind you), all I ever wanted was a layered look a la Mischa Barton and Max Guevera in Season 2 of Dark Angel. I looked at the picture I brought into my one official salon appointment ever and thought it was pretty straight forward: a long-layered cut, so I hand the guy the picture and say, "You know, I'd like some long layers that frame my face."

This "frame my face" idea was a new one that I happened into around a year and a half ago. No, there was no divine computer program that I put a photo of myself into that spit out: Something to frame your face would greatly improve your looks! I was looking in the mirror and finally something clicked in my mind: that is what I wanted. After 21 years of (mostly) one length hair--long or short--and completely forswearing bangs since the 3rd grade when one of the sixth graders on the bus ride home asked me, "Why do you still have bangs?" I was going to get something that "framed my face" and it was going to be exactly what I wanted.

Well, I was still on the lookout for a better cut since the last (and only) salon one. I just never got around to it, because I never want to spend over 25 dollars for a cut again. And they make you pay more for long hair, so I decided that if I ever got something styled, I'd want to hack everything off first.

But anyway. I was looking in the mirror today, getting jiggy to the High School Musical soundtrack and staring at my hair with the brainchild to cut it myself. Just a trim, I thought. I wanted to get rid of all those split ends, right? Good idea. So I got out the scissors that have yet to be dulled by anything I cut with them, and--upon inspection--realized that I had no split ends. Like, seriously. I couldn't find one. Writing it off to the fact that I never brush my hair, I started to stare in the mirror at the long, wet strands, staring at that place where the hair that should be my bangs naturally curls under my chin. It's strange; my hair has so many fly-aways (from my cafe hat perhaps?) but no split ends. And I see that my hair is naturally doing it--with that curl. It's framing my face. So I pick up the first forward chunk on the left side and snip, snip *falls*. Then I pick up the right chunk and snip, snip *falls*. Then, snip to the left, another to the left. And I'm done.

Voila something that frames my face.

Voila, I have returned to the world of bangs.

And it's strange that the only thing I really wanted was those little hanging things that don't make it into your pony tail but are still long enough to part in the middle of my forehead. I feel invigorated. Why? Because I have discovered yet another thing in life that I can do on my own.

Current Harry Potter page count: 396 out of 759.

No. of times tears have come to my eyes: once.

No. of times I have squeed aloud to an empty apartment: too numerous to count.

P.S. THE THING (from another planet) = best allegory of communism ever.

All I wanted was a bumper sticker. Was that too much to ask?

Don't get me wrong. I hate the actual use of bumper stickers--to tout high religious and political positions in the span of mere seconds while jam-packed on the freeway leaving no freedom for discussion--but you have to admit, there are some really cool ones out there. Some of which I like to hoard, or put on something in my house, or use as a bookmark. (Re: pictures littered through previous post) But apparently our Borders is void of them. I must have waited too long, though working in the cafe almost insures that I have no idea what's going on with the bookselling end of things. (Seriously, we are like an island surrounded by shark-infested waters in this two-level store. Do they even listen to us when we come on the radio?) So I must have missed the window of opportunity for the "Trust Snape"/"Snape is a very bad Man" logos. (Sad, too, because once we all finish the seventh book, those stickers might very well be useless. Or not? How complicated is Rowling's morality anyway? Pretty damn, if you ask what I hope for.)

In my dream world, I would be done with the seventh book by now. I know, I know, that's being pretty hard on myself. Heaven forbid I actually left my apartment to do things yesterday. With people, no less. But I found myself cracking the book open for the first time last night (Saturday) at 9:30 (about 24 hours after hell crashed into earth at work) and only made it to page 100 or so. And this morning (Sunday), I work, always, no matter what, so now I find myself hanging around page 150 thanks to one lunch break and two rides on the Metro.

But I still have the question in my head: Do I want to savor Deathly Hallows or devour? And is there really a difference? Actually, the real reason I want to race to the end is to AVOID AT ALL COSTS the SPOILERS on the internets. Even now, googling images to fit with this post, I'm terrified of running into some horrible thing. Stop that! Must not look for pretty pictures. Must use pictures from the vast amounts stored on my hard drive, instead! Such as:

That one was from a drafted magician-themed post that I started writing after going to see The Prestige and trying to find every David Copperfeld trick I could on Youtube and Myspace. Sigh. That one may never reach the Ultimate Electron Stream.

I'm in a good place, though, right? I'm at the beginning. Rowling's world is welcoming me in, and I am slowly coming back to it with open arms.

But I'm nervous. Not because it will be rubbish. It won't. Trust me. Even if you could predict every twist she made, it's still a story that has power and unravels and folds inward, outward, upward, backward. She's a damn good storyteller. Period. Comprehensive and good. And that's good, right?

I have to say though, shivering on this cusp before I jump in, belly smack, and feel the Wizarding world wash over me like I'm 11 and under the waterfalls in the lazy river, this is the worst artist-rendition of Harry Potter I've ever seen. I mean, Just. Look. At. It.

Ron, too. Just strange. Like they both have futures as American football quarterbacks.

This must be what Hell's like.

That's what my coworkers and I were thinking Friday night from 9:30 until the wee hours of Saturday morning when Borders Boooks and Music was hosting it's biggest and last Harry Potter release party. The cafe was replete with balloons while one of our of the tables had been converted into a palm reading "booth" manned by one of the booksellers with an apropo "gypsy-bangled" skirt that cost 2 bucks from Target. I was fascinated by the store's line-up of Harry-themed events and asked aforementioned palmreader if she really was one or if she had just done a crash coursean hour before coming in. At the time, she said the manager's had handed her a cheat sheet with bogus fortunes, e.g. "I see a book in your future. . ." Very corporate, if you ask me. But later, she managed to give us cafe workers each our own readings. (My head line = huge--so much so that I often rule matters of the heart with my head. Long life line. Will have a choice late in life that is promising.) But her costume was great.

For a moment, I thought it would be a cute idea to play off the Great Snape Debate (literally) going on upstairs by polling the cafe customers. I could write it on the slate marker board next to the cash register: Friend? Foe? Free Agent (option upon request)? I thought it would be fun--a good idea. That was before I looked up from the steaming wand to see the line stretching from the cafe to the Periodicals section.

No, actually that was not the line to pay for food; it was the line for our faux-Trelawney's palm reading kitsch. The line for the cafe lined up along the West edge of our food counter. For those of you who have been to a S____'s B__, you'll know that certain food items are separated from customers hands, ears, breaths by only a lone piece of plexiglass. (As one customer said, "Flies, people sneezing, I'm just saying. . ." What he did not say was "Change the friggin' layout so it's more sanitary!" I appreciated the attempt at politeness--they are so few and far between in the food service industry.) The line migrated clockwise throughout the night until it was parallel to the palm reading line, and when we looked up from removing the tops of blenders and emptying clumps of "crushed ice drinks" into cups (yes, some of them having sprung leaks, some of our shoes wet with sour milk) the two lines looked as though they were one, large, omniscient snake that was oh so hungry for coffee and a meeting with the Hand of fate!

It was terrifying.

But among the cries of "Why doesn't this look like the picture!" and the exchange between one customer and I: "Would you mind, if, perhaps, I could get some whipped cream on my coffee?" Me: "You know, at this time, nothing means anything. So yes, please let me get you some whipped cream for your coffee.", we all managed to hang on to our sanity for three straight hours of Harry Potter-crazed coffee orders. (Yes, more the adults than the children. But, the children were much better behaved .)

And finally, at half-past twelve, we looked up from punching numbers into our convection oven to see that that line--the large, fat snake that could probably speak Parseltongue--was suddenly, amazingly line up at the cash registers. For the books for Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Rowling herself. And not, we were relieved to see, for Medium Mochas ("Oh! I wanted that iced!") or Turkey & Havarti sandwiches ("I don't need all the stickers! I'm in a hurry!"). The weight of the world rolled off our shoulders, we began to speak in complete sentences yet again, and we were glad to see the end of the adventures of Mr. Potter and his friends.

There Will Soon Be 7.

Predictions! Predictions! Predilections! Etc.! Etc.!

But first! Fun, Harry-themed sites for those interested.

AOL set up a pretty great list of Potter-spoofs on-line. Mostly off-the-wall stuff. Enough to crack me a smile, anyway. (Or you could just go to Youtube and search "Potter Puppet.") Ron is always done with a falsetto male voice. Funny, to say the least.

Scholastic's HP trivia challenge! It's tres fun, and you can pick which books you'd like to get quizzed on. I'm much better than I used to be.

Also, though I don't own anyone's anything, I feel the need to give a shout out to all the HP tribute bands (that I know of). I thought they would be crap, right? But as I was watching one of the Potter spoofs, I had an epiphany that the music I was listening to had--well--some actual merit.


Harry and the Potters
Draco and the Malfoys
Roonil Wazlib
The Whomping Willows
The Remus Lupins

Some of them have myspaces. But, googling should suffice for info about them.



But now onto Predictions. . .

1. Inferi will do something, now that they've been so heavily foreshadowed. (Sirius's body isn't around, but Lilly and James? APWBD?)

2. Lilly was great at Potions. Snape is great at Potions. Snape had a crush on Lilly (IMO). You do the math.

3. Horcruxes! Even dead people know that this is going to be a major plotting point for Book 7. Stuff about RAB!

Confirmed Horcruxes that have been destroyed: Riddle's diary, Marvolo's black ring

Horcruxes suspected by Dumbledore: Hufflepuff's golden cup, Slytherin's locket, Nagini, a Gryffindor/Ravenclaw special item, and Voldemort himself.

4. The answer to the great Snape debate: He's still my favorite character, no matter what. (What is the "ironclad" reason Dumbledore had to trust him in HBP?)

5. People who are most likely to die, IMO: Voldy, Snape, Harry, Neville.

6. People I want to die (whether or not they remain dead): Voldy, Harry, Hagrid (I've been hoping for a dead half-giant since Book 5! Sigh. No way in hell, probably.)

7. The answer to whether or not Snape is a vampire and Harry is a horcrux is "I wish." (Bill will be a little werewolf-ish in this book!)

8. Ginny will most likely be put in some mortal danger, since Harry is not a very good Occlumens and Voldy is a lot of things but not stupid. (Why else bring in an eleventh-hour romance?)

9. The Redemption of Draco (?) Perhaps Snape will die saving him.

10. Narcissa and Andromeda . I would love to see me some of them kicking butt (preferably Bellatrix's).

11. Hermione and Won-Won! They will be the new Brangelina.

12. Slughorn is a wildcard. I wonder if he'll join Voldy in a moment of weakness, when he is Felix non Felicis.

13. There will be a beyond-awesome showdown between Lupin and Greyback. Well, okay, Lupin's not too much of a fighter, but. . . hopefully he'll stay alive for Tonksy!

14. About Occlumency. Methinks that Harry needs to shape up or ship out. It's gonna huge, what with Snape and Voldy being Legilimens. I'd love to see Harry do to Voldy what Voldy did to Harry in the end of Year 5.

15. Please oh please, may I have Penseive flashbacks until my heart is complete?

16. Was that just a flash of light or did Dumbledore turn into a pheonix at his funeral?