so i breed thicker skin and let my lustrous coat fill in and i'll never admit that i loved you...
some things i learned yesterday:
1) the sound that the pantyhose under the office manager's dress make when she moves bugs the shit out of me.
2) necco wafers: green = grass clippings, orange = tums, yellow = circus peanuts, pink = pepto bismal, white = wintergreen, and grape tastes like total ass.
3) a vintage wicked film on dvd seems like a good idea at the store, but is not such a good idea in your dvd player (the money shots were alright, but the plot was lame). [fyi to madmathias' comment: apparently, 1996 is considered vintage in this particular genre of film.]
4) other people like cicadas, too.
5) me and my sister are finally friends, and now that i've realized this i miss her a lot.
6) i have an undeniable blogcrush.
7) someone is on a road trip and picked me up some kum and go
lighters. that someone absolutely rocks.
i love cicadas. i read recently that the 17-year cicadas are due to emerge this year, and i'm very excited. the only problem is that i don't live back east anymore, so i won't be able to see them.
my first experience with cicadas was 17 years ago, when i lived in northern virginia. the first sign that something was up was these weird empty bug shells scattered about. there was a slight hum at night.
you could pick up the shells and put them on your shirt like a broach. the tips of the shell-legs were just like velcro. the best part was scaring people with them. especially girls. most little girls don't like big bugs.
i thought they were beautiful. after a week or so, the air was alive with the damn things. giant, gentle bugs everywhere. my cat, checkers, (and this is no hyperbole) gained five pounds that spring/summer. she couldn't get enough of the cicadas. five pounds on a cat is something like sixty pounds on a human. that's a lot of cicadas.
our house backed up to a wooded creek. the buzz was awesome. crickets on crack. millions of these winged aliens, awakened from a 17-year incubation to renew the cycle again.
yes. i love cicadas. i'm hoping a stiff global wind will send a few to my porch. the only thing that would make me happier is if lightening bugs lived in southern cali as well.
i had just about the most perfect party weekend ever. me and my sister, we partied like rock stars. plus, this morning while i was taking my cat to an emergency vet visit, my sister washed my dishes (every glass i own was dirty, i think) and straightened up. she is a great houseguest.
when i say we partied like rock stars, i mean just short of strippers and blow.
friday night we went bar hopping. we decided to have only one drink per establishment and then move on. it only lasted three bars before we decided the dance floor looked promising. i haven't danced like that or for that long in years. my neck hurts from headbanging to "toxic", though.
my sister digs live music, so saturday night we went to a local dive bar to check out some bands. it didn't look good early on. the only other people in there when we arrived were two regulars and one of the bands. but free pool, so we hung out. right before we decided to bail, the bartender/owner gave us a bunch of free songs on the jukebox. so we stayed.
i'm glad they didn't kick us out. my sister's from back east, so when she found a sublime album in the juke, she got really excited. she needed my help figuring out how to select a song, but i couldn't successfully figure it out, either. we exposed the bar to "what i got". three times in a row. not the coolest move when indies are around, but whatever.
all the bands rocked. the second band
had a saxophone player, and the headliners had a full horn section and a six-string bass. brass is especially rad. we afterpartied with part of the second band, and didn't get to bed until the sun was coming up.
i picked up a cd of the first band
. it's good. surprisingly good.
we probably would've found some trouble to get into sunday night as well, but we were too busy sleeping off saturday night. damn was it a good weekend.
p.s. why didn't anyone tell me that jean jackets were hot again?
this morning, and some other junk
the editor and the art guy are talking at length about hiking and yoga and running and mountain climbing. they use words like "hybridization." i'm not much of a talker in the morning, so i'm glad they have each other to yack to. when one of them is out of the office, i get screwed. the other one inevitably wanders into my office and blathers on about their weekend. aren't they gonna be sad when medical science proves that binge drinking and cigarettes are actually way healthier than frickin' yoga.
i'm leaving work early today to pick my sister up from the airport. we are just about as opposite as two people can be, but we've finally started becoming buddies. i wonder, though, if she isn't secretly harboring notions of revenge. i used to beat the everloving crap out of her when we were kids.
on wednesdays, me and my friend J go to this mexican restaurant across the street from my apartment building. there used to be a hot 19-year-old waitress who served us (yay for J), but now her 28-year-old brother works wednesdays (but i'm not attracted to him, so boo for both of us).
a few weeks ago, i ran into him on a tuesday at a local bar. we recognized each other and smalltalked. i was at said bar with a date. the waiter and his cousin came over and played pool with us. TW tried every clever trick in the guy's bar handbook to either get my number, remember my name, or take me home. i was sitting right next to my date in a booth and he leaned right in and whispered to me, "you're not really going home with this guy, are you?"
this past wednesday, me and J are sitting outside waiting for our food to arrive. TW wanders in and out, as business is slow. he hints at date ideas. i dodge. at one point, he says the following:
"yeah, so i live with my mom and dad. none of that paying-rent bullshit for me. like last night, i was sitting on my bed, counting hundreds..." at this point, he mimes the act of peeling bills from a giant roll and then counting them. "i just keep counting and counting, and my dog gets curious. so i'm like showing the money to the dog. i'm like, 'yeah, you like that? a hundred dollars could buy you a lot of bones, doggy!'"
when TW goes back inside the restaurant, J looks at me and comments on how badly this guy is trying to impress me.
"what?" i say. "with stories about how he lives rent-free?"
"no. with stories about how loaded he is."
"so...what? he's gonna take me out on the town then sneak me into his childhood bedroom where we will have very quiet and careful mattress wrestling so as not to wake his parents or plentiful siblings?"
the worst part is that i left my sunglasses on the table. prescription. i go back to the restaurant during lunchtime yesterday, and TW's family informs me that he wanted to keep the glasses extra safe. so he put them in his trunk instead of in the lost and found. which requires me to return after five, when he will be there.
which i did. because i love those glasses and they were not cheap. but TW asked me out again. in front of his mom. who was knitting and smiling. he's a nice enough guy, but the whole thing freaks me out.
luckily, though, i've got my glasses back. and my coworkers have quietly settled in their respective offices. the office is officially healthy-talk free for the moment.
there are so many different kinds of bad breath. there is stale breath. cigarette breath. coffee breath. (these three combined on a bridge during midwatch can be deadly, i assure you.) onion breath. i-forgot-to-brush-my-teeth-this-morning breath. morning breath. drunk breath.
some people have a particular kind of bad breath. it's... well, i don't know quite how to describe it. it's kind of like old-poo breath.
now, let me clarify. i'm not saying these poor folks actually smell like they've been gnoshing on poo. they don't smell the same way my family dog did after snorting through the kitty litter for a snack.
i've kissed a few OPB's before. you can't tell when you're kissing, which was a relief. i do wonder, though, if an OPB knows
that they're an OPB. i mean, maybe i'm
an OPB. how would anyone ever know that they've got it unless someone tells them?
my theory is that most (but probably not all) OPB's have tonsil stones
. a few years ago i would've laughed at such a suggestion. 'cause, really, what the fuck is a tonsil stone
my exhusband (that looks funny without the dash) used to spend about an hour a week in front of the mirror, poking around the back of his throat with the back end of his toothbrush. i thought he was ridiculous. he'd show me the white lumps he'd cull from his tonsils, and describe to me how horrible they smelled. i told him he was gross and demanded he close the bathroom door.
then i got one. a big 'un. my mouth tasted like ass anytime i wasn't actively brushing, minting, or gumming. i feared everyone around me could smell it. at the time, i didn't know it was because of this grossocity residing in my tonsil crypt. i thought maybe something was wrong with me, or that i was due for a dental cleaning.
until it dislodged. it's like a giant zit lettin' loose, but not as fun and exciting. and your curiosity concerning this odd character quickly turns to stomach-turning nausea the closer you move in for inspection.
i don't think i can talk about tonsil stones anymore. it's making me not feel so good. but don't ever accuse me of not providing a public service. if you ever get that not-so-clean feeling in your mouth, investigate your tonsils. they're sneaky little masters of OPB.
(if you think i'm full of shit, or if you've experienced these nasty monstrosities yourself, please comment. i'm curious.)
fine, then--nobody gets married
benton county, oregon, has decided to ban
ALL marriages in response to the gay marriage debate. until the matter is settled, they've decided to be equally unfair to everyone. i love it.
thanks to MM
for the link.
[goddamn. that's so seriously rad.]
what the hell is going on...
last night, i watched soldier's girl
. holy shit is that a great movie. disturbing. makes you doubt humanity. but great. i was crying so much by the end that my cats got scared.
i was about to follow it up by watching i want a famous face
i decided against it when i realized that my head would probably explode. so i turned the tv off and went to bed. i was worried about having nightmares over the ending of "soldier's girl". instead, i had a lengthy dream in which jennifer love hewitt and i worked in the same building. we were bored one day and decided to meet in some empty room for sex.
i don't know why such an upsetting movie would cause me to have sex dreams about almost unfamous celebrities. but i can tell you that i wasn't a very happy camper when my alarm went off just as jennifer and i were entering the room.
the question game
at the request of mad matt
, i bring you the following list. feel free to copy and play along.
First job: shampoo girl at a hair salon
First screen name: mnqf
First self-purchased CD: i think it might have been warren-g
First piercing/tattoo: scorpion on left thigh
First true love: greg silva
First enemy: i can't remember her name, but it was fifth grade. damn was she a BITCH.
Last big car ride: all-night work-emergency drive to reno in february
Last kiss: about two weeks ago
Last library book checked out: a longass time ago, possibly in sioux-st. marie
Last movie seen: theatre-Taking Lives (ugh), dvd-Freaky Friday (surprisingly enjoyable)
Last beverage drank: hot tea
Last food consumed: those fuckin' "donettes" i bought a few hours ago
Last phone call: around 10 last night, from monkeyboy
CD played: the postal service
Last annoyance: empty toilet paper roll in bathroom at work
Last pop drank: mr. pibb at the movie theatre
Last ice cream eaten: mint cookie stuff from ben & jerry's
Last time scolded: five minutes ago by the boss who no longer affects me
Last shirt worn: yesterday i wore one with a sloth on it. today, a boring ol' sweater
I AM: more capable than i'm willing to admit
I WANT: a beer
I HAVE: a new michigan quarter on its way to me
I WISH: for a new job
I HATE: WHISTLING
I FEAR: my current financial status
I HEAR: the accountant pouring coffee
I SEARCH: for direction
I WONDER: when my levels of motivation will equalize with my levels of capability
I REGRET: not telling my boss to fuck off
I LOVE: penguins
I ALWAYS: check my email
I AM NOT: feeling very happy today
I DANCE: rarely, but love it
I SING: often, and like crap
I CRY: occasionally, but not about the stuff i should be crying about
YES or NO
YOU KEEP A DIARY: this blog, if it counts as such
YOU LIKE TO COOK: kind of
YOU HAVE A SECRET YOU HAVE NOT SHARED WITH ANYONE: yes
HAVE A CRUSH: in a way
WANT TO GET MARRIED: i'll let the ink on my divorce papers dry before considering that question
GET MOTION SICKNESS: rarely, but always on a CG 110'
THINK YOU'RE A HEALTH FREAK: hell no
CURRENT HAIR COLOR: blonde
EYE COLOR: blue
BIRTHPLACE: denver, co
DAY: my birthday, and friday night
SONG(S): "my curse", afghan whigs
DRINK: iced tea
CUDDLE OR MAKE OUT: i'm gonna say both, even though it's probably not allowed
CHOCOLATE MILK OR HOT CHOCOLATE: chocolate milk
MILK, DARK, OR WHITE CHOCOLATE: dark
VANILLA OR CHOCOLATE: vanilla
IN THE LAST 24 HRS, HAVE YOU...
HELPED SOMEONE? yes
BOUGHT SOMETHING? powdered donettes from the 10am lunch truck
GOTTEN SICK? no
GONE TO THE MOVIES? no
SAID 'i love you'?: yes
WRITTEN A REAL LETTER: no
TALKED TO AN EX?: no
MISSED AN EX?: yes
WRITTEN IN A JOURNAL?: this blog
HAD A SERIOUS TALK?: yes, though via email
MISSED SOMEONE? yes
HUGGED SOMEONE? yes
MADE A GUY MOAN? no, but hopefully soon
to M, A, M, R, and L:
i know i haven't been calling. a few of you wouldn't like it anyway, but the point is that i should
be calling, if only once and if only for closure.
three of you; i broke your hearts. one took a very long time and was not intentional, nor was it a very sharp break. one of you chose to ignore my warnings, but i should have steered clear of you to begin with--when warnings wouldn't have been necessary. the third... well, to say i didn't mean to hurt you would be pointless. bandages only cover a wound, they don't abate the pain. i rest easier knowing that i did it sooner rather than later, though.
one of you broke my heart. twice. short, swift, and with cruelty. unintended cruelty, possibly. but cruel nonetheless. an accidental killing still goes to court.
one of you means very little to me. but i should still be calling, if only to see if i can continue with an experiment.
i owe most of you an apology. two of you owe one to me.
but these are minor matters. time has shrunk them to barely recognizable chunks of regret.
if i could talk to you more, i would. to those i've hurt, i hope the pain is not as stiff. i hope it is fading into manageable anger.
it was never intentional. none of it. that's neither here nor there, but i'm trying.
if you are one of the ones waiting for a phone call, do not hold your breath. if it happens, it will not happen anytime soon. you should busy yourself calling other people, making other plans.
to those who owe me an explanation: it's alright. i'm over it. i realize i will never get answers to my questions. i will have to feel resolved without clarification. truly, i would not be satisfied with whatever answers you chose to deliver anyway.
why don't you just pee on me
my boss reneged on the raise he offered me last week. well, most of it, anyway. explained the financial status of the company and said he simply couldn't give it to me in one big chunk. the number he finally spit out was pathetic at best. and a slap in the face compared to our two-hour review session last week. suffice it to say, i'm done here. even if i don't get the balls/gumption to find a new job soon, i'm not putting my all into this one anymore. today, for example, i plan on surfing the net and taking an extended lunch.
well, i do that quite a bit anyway. but today it will be with purpose
please visit the movie slut
. she hasn't posted in a while, but her movie reviews always bring a smile to my face:
on bend it like beckham:
british people suck!
on the order:
heath ledger wasn't very good looking in this movie
also, if you see a very small blue pill lying around, let me know. tomorrow would be the last day in my pillpack before starting the always appreciated monthly flow party. but i took friday's pill today, and there was no saturday pill next to it. it's just GONE. did a male guest use the bathroom and get curious? are my cats trying to tell me something?
seriously, where could it have gotten off to? i'm kind of starting to miss it...
this is what the editors at sit and spin magazine
had to say about the gay marriage issue:
While recent polls have suggested that most Americans are against gay marriage, this administration has no mandate to change the Constitution. The amendment process was put into place to suit the changing historical context of the times. 50 years ago, the question of gay marriage would never have even been asked. The fact that our society has evolved to the point of discussing the matter on a national stage is proof that homosexuality is trending towards more widespread acceptance in this country. At this point in history, the attempt to codify restrictions on gay rights in the most supreme and binding legal document we have is irresponsible, obtuse, and despicable.
What's more, it's not based on values, principals, or even religious beliefs. This is a purely political endeavor, and it's completely gay.
right on. sometimes i wish that i wasn't such a lazy apathetic american twentysomething. because if i could muster up the energy, i'd join the cause to make sure bush has no success with this lame-ass amendment.
(on a side note, i always find it interesting when i'm writing out 'amendment' that it only has the one 'n'. it seems to be crying out for two, to no avail.)
one definition of 'amendment': The act of changing for the better; improvement
this amendment, if added, won't improve anything. it won't make anything better.
the other day i was watching some newsblurb and they were using quick flashes of images of marriage and hetero couples and whatnot. it suddenly occurred to me--why should there be any regulation on marriage at all? why a legally binding document? why did i have to pay a bunch of money and fill out what felt like a thousand forms in order to divorce?
why can't you just kind of mentally holler to the heavens that you're married and just start acting married? and then if you get tired of each other, you just find separate apartments and that's that? i understand the necessity of official crappitydoo when shared property and kids and alimony come into play. but the actual marriage and dissolution of marriage? so what?
i just realized i'm ranting. which a completely apathetic citizen wouldn't have the energy to muster. i have more i think i could say. but instead i'm going to go back to the couch right now, remote safely tucked in the crook of my arm, green beer within safe reaching distance.
i work in the outdoor industry. specifically for a magazine. specifically about hunting. there are quite a few bleeding hearts who are a bit dismayed when they find this out. or simply shocked, seeing as how i've never displayed any interest in hunting.
i'm not interested in hunting. i don't like guns. but i wear leather and have shot at a range. i'm not completely opposed to the NRA. nor do i completely support PETA or greenpeace.
i probably won't ever shoot an animal. i've been on the line lately, though, when invited on a turkey hunt. i still say no, but i'm wavering. if i ever do shoot a living thing, i think it will be some sort of bird.
this is not rational. living beings are living beings. taking a life is taking a life. but tell that to an animal-rights vegetarian who still eats fish. or my sister, who has determined she just can't handle the killing of cute
animals. she'll eat a pig, but not a lamb.
a debate among a group of intelligent adults concerning which reasons are good reasons for killing/using/eating animals usually crumbles into competing proclamations of personal preferences.
which is why i'm glad that i've had the chance to get a peek into this culture. i don't hunt, i don't hang out with hunters, and i don't understand much of it at all. but now i have some firsthand knowledge with which to form an opinion. and this i know:
hunting provides the money for conservation. whether it's fair or not, or rational at all, animal rights/anti-hunting groups simply don't drum up enough funds. if you want most of the animals protected and managed, it's necessary to sacrifice a few choice older ones.
the previous paragraph, of course, pertains to trophy hunting. as far as deer, bear, rabbit, partridge, beaver... people shoot 'em. then they eat 'em. then they usually use the hide for somethin'. if you eat cow, pig, tuna, chicken, shrimp... you should have absolutely no problem with these kinds of hunters. just because it's all nicely packaged for you in your grocer's freezer doesn't make its death any prettier.
florida or germany
Police in Jacksonville, Fla., arrested a man who believed he was a 'vampire slayer' after he allegedly shot his Domino's Pizza co-worker twice in the face because he thought he was a vampire, according to Local 6 News.
Timothy White, 35, who was described by friends as a born-again Christian with an unusual preoccupation with zombies and vampires, was arrested outside of a church after Friday's shooting.
Witnesses said he walked into the pizza shop on Normandy Boulevard and allegedly said David Harrison looked like a vampire. He then allegedly shot Harrison in the face and stomach.
Police said White was heavily armed with a knife, a sawed-off shotgun and three pistols when he was taken into custody.
Harrison is listed in critical condition at a local hospital.
A grief counselor was brought in to help Domino's employees.
White remains in the Duval County Jail Monday.
come on now. anyone who pays attention to entertainment weekly
knows that this guy was clearly an IDIOT:
1) vampire slayers are WOMEN
2) you can't kill a vampire by shooting it in face, nor with any of the other weapons he had on him.
jesus. if you're gonna go all crazy, at least follow the buffy rules. it's not that difficult.
spring has sprung
1) got the raise. not as much as i wanted, but much better than where i was at. boss even got weepy when he ended the meeting with a heart-to-heart listing the reasons he enjoys having me around here. still wish he woulda ponied up some more cabbage, though.
2) my divorce is officially final. strangely, this made my ex-husband call me three days in a row over the weekend.
3) one of my very best friends is in town for a week-long visit. he's at my apartment right now, waiting for me to get off work.
4) i have tentative plans to abandon said friend for one night in order to go on a date.
5) i finally
remembered to change my tax filing status. i forgot to do it last year, and the amount of money i owe due to too little being deducted over the year is gonna kill me. but next april'll be better.
what i'm sayin' is, shit's pretty decent right now. if i could only get my cat to keep the entirety of his poop IN the litterbox, things would be downright perfect.
so tell me about YOUR weekend. and don't be shy!
on the way home from the airport, D is hungry. the only thing that he feels won't make him hurl is mcdonald's. so we're ordering at the speakerbox:
box: can i help you?
D: hey! where's the 5-piece nugget meal? it's not on the menu!
me: nah, it's cool. get the 10-piece. i'll help you.
at the window, waiting for the bag to be handed over:
D: that really is a lot of nuggets that are coming
me: you know the worst thing about nuggets?
D: what, that there's gonna be 10
me: no. even with 5, you've got this problem.
me: you can never eat 'em fast enough so that any nugget past the second one is still hot.
D: goddamn. that's so true.
me: and still, the first one will burn the shit out of both your fingers and the roof of your mouth.
D: we need to write this down...
i didn't think this was funny until i told it to a guy friend and he just about choked on his lunch laughing:
at the end of the night...
him: so are you ever gonna call me again?
me: ummm... what?
him: well, i just figured i'd beat you to the question.
me: oh. yeah. i wasn't gonna ask.
my apologies for yesterday. i was exhausted beyond sanity and barely made it through the day. i had my jammies on by 1715 and was under the covers by 1800. got up long enough to eat some food then went immediately back to bed.
i just read something on slate about what would happen if kerry picked mccain as a running mate. they had all these examples and blah blah, but who cares? man, that'd be fucking RAD if someone from one party picked a running mate from another party. it almost makes complete sense, too. talk about making history. talk about forcing change. RAD
whew. enough current events already.
i have a question. do you tell new people you meet about your blog? do you give them the address? this includes dates and the like. if people you know in "real" life already read your blog, does it make it easier for you to welcome new people to it?
i'm wondering if i shouldn't just get over myself and send a link to everyone i know and be done with worrying about it. the other option is to never give the address to anyone ever
again, in an attempt to keep mynewbestfriend as honest as possible.
shout outs to tuner dwarf
and d lo
, a couple of new faces in the comments. also, a big thank you to guido
for gladly pointing out how ridiculous i am.
a final shout to tampa bay, from where my favorite lurker hails.
it randomly occurred to me today that blogs are essentially the quieter stepdaughter of reality television.
and i had this surge of embarrassment run through me.
which got worse as i realized that if this blog is my reality-television life, then what i write here is an awkward 15-year-old kid straining to be involved with the cool kids' table in the cafeteria.
it's fucking pathetic.
maybe if i write about [insert lame-o topic here], i'll get some more traffic. and maybe if i get some more traffic, [insert any COOL, highly-trafficked blog here, one where each post garners comments numbering in the double digits] will link me, and then all the other
kids at the fun tableawesomely talented and entertaining bloggers will stop by and give me props for my shit and i will
finally feel ACCEPTED...
...by strangers on the fucking INTERNET.
what the hell is WRONG with me? what happened to the lameass journal i started those months ago? here's my first real post from 6/19/2002:
is there a one?
i'm finding it harder and harder to decide. i want to love him like i should, but i want to be happy, too. the one that i do want will never be the one, either.
he's miles and miles away and will not be satisfied when i tell him that all i want him to do is hold me close and run his fingers through my hair. forever. that's it.
and write me witty emails everyday, of course.
i finally told the other that i didn't think i could stay.
we were both sad, but he understood more than i gave him credit for even moments before. things are the same today--he seems to think the purging of last night has plugged the hole. perhaps he's right...for now.
the hole will probably always be there. but i've got to try something else. i have to.
i have to.
PAH! look at that blarney! it's all vague and personal and BAD and never meant for public reading. but i loved
it. i loved my little bloggety blog. that's why i named it "my new best friend" in the first place. because it was, quite literally, just that.
now here i am, swooning over the famous blogs and wishing for an official head-nod welcome over to that cafeteria table. well. so.
so fuck it. me and my blogcito are too busy working on reclaiming each other. enough with the other horseshit. even if the feeling is probably just an offshoot of my desire to be some kind of recognized writer. this is the real reason i covet the acclaimed blogs.
jesus christ. i give up. this is too fucking meta for a hungover wednesday.
tuesday tuesday TUESDAY
invited me to write a post on his site today since he's in san francisco right now, his voice probably hoarse over some basketball team. it's strange-cool to see something you've written on someone else's blog.
in other news, there was a half-hour earlier today when all of the following sites were down: blogger, livejournal, google, and yahoo. i was certain the world must be ending. but maybe the world is ending, just more slowly than i feared. because all those servers being down at once must indicate that they're all owned by the same conglomerate. it's the mcwalmarting of america, ya'll.
i'm very tired. goodnight.
me and mike, we were heading south on 95. we were going to stop in d.c. long enough to say hello to my folks before heading all the way west. to put our respective vehicles on a ship to hawaii and ourselves on a plane.
we weren't but half an hour into the journey. we had very cheap toy walkie talkies with us. we almost had to be touching bumpers to be able to hear each other. he was in the middle of telling me to turn it to some station to hear some song.
i was behind his truck, and i saw something out of the corner of my eye. it looked almost as if some 55-gallon plastic trashcans had blown out of someone's bed. except that my brain was processing the information as a doll. it looked like a doll being tossed out of someone's bed.
i remember the walkie talkies because it was if we had actually spoken. what did happen is that i saw his big green eyes in his rearview mirror and automatically we both put our left-turn signals on and pulled as tight against the median as we could.
the dolls, you see, were northbound.
we still didn't know what we had seen. but when we slammed our drivers' side doors in stereo, we looked to each other. the first five steps we took were into each other's arms. tight. then we looked both ways and jumped over the 2-foot concrete wall.
it's funny when you feel you have a purpose. cars moving towards you at 70 mph aren't scary anymore. you put your hand up stop. please
and you cross those four northbound lanes with only a habitual glance left, then right.
we both saw her at the same time. a small dark-haired girl, sitting on the grassy bank, a camera in one hand and her knees tucked under both arms. she is shaking. i approach her and it is clear she is gone. "just tell them it's okay. IT'S OKAY." she points, her eyes glazed. "they're over THERE."
next to her is a white 80s convertible mustang, top down. it is crumpled and surrounded by diamonds of safety glass, as if it had lost a battle. beyond that are the 55-gallon dolls.
we look at each other again, and with a nod we separate: me to her and he to him.
some other drivers have already stopped. someone has put a blanket over her. how silly,
i think. it's the middle of june. she's warm enough.
the trained part of me knows why there is a blanket over her, but i can still feel the midday sun bouncing off the asphalt.
i touch her hair. long blond knotted up from the topdown ride. "don't move her." a man says from the grassy bank. "the ambulance is coming." my gut reaction is to put her on her back and start cpr. but for some reason, the fact that other people got there first makes me pause. surely they have a handle on the situation.
but no one will be near her except me. and i can see before i've even touched her hair that she is not going to make it. the blonde arms poking through her tank top are covered in road wounds. the black tar did not treat her fairly when she scraped across it.
when i touch her head i can see her. everything that meant something is leaking out of her. it is covering the pavement and it is bright red and it is gray and it is everything all the poets and doctors told you it would be.
i tell her i'll be right back before i go to see him. mike is holding his hand. he is convulsing and is just as true as she is. the asphalt has left its marks across his legs and arms. there is bright red under his head. bubbles are coming out of his mouth and he smells the same as the old people with bedpans and diapers at my grandmother's nursing home before she died. he smells of urine and lysol and again my brain defies me: who brought lysol?
mike and i again talk without speaking. years together has taught me that he doesn't have whatever it is that makes some people better equipped to understand thick accents and the like. mike is glad that i am there because the boy is trying to talk.
the boy tells me where is she where is she where is she where is she is she okay it's all that matters is she is she is she is she okay where is she
. i touch his head too and i tell him that she is right over there. i point to prove it and i tell him that she will be fine that he needs to relax and wait for the ambulance and his eyes are straining because his head won't turn where he wants it and i assure him that she is right over there and that she knows he is right over here and then we both ask him his name so that he will concentrate on trivial things. we introduce ourselves as if it is a social gathering and we are being polite.
i am trying to keep the boy from noticing my shellshock and i am trying to keep the boy from getting a clear look at her brains and i am trying to not see the blood the blood the blood and i am trying like hell to keep up the esp with mike because he is the anchor even if i have to be his too.
we hear the sirens approaching. i go back to check on the girl. there are people that handle these sorts of things every day every hour all the time
, i think. and now i know that i do not have the gene that makes that bearable
and she is breathing. i see her ribs rise and fall and i see the specks of gray on her matted hair and i wonder how
the esp pulls me away. and the ambulance has arrived. mike wipes the hand that was holding the boy's hand on his shorts before he hugs me again. we slowly and wordlessly cross those four lanes. there is no need for left right stop signals this time. there are people five cars back from this that can't see what has happened and they are mad and they are going to be late for something and they angrily punch the buttons on their radio while they curse the gods of traffic and i would be doing the same but i am in front and i know why traffic has slowed.
we get back in our cars and we merge back onto 95 south. i look into his rearview long enough to see those big green eyes looking back at me. then i play with my radio buttons and fight the shakes that i am having because we are in traffic again.
goddamn am i beat today. i don't know what happened. i swore i'd be in bed by ten last night. then all of a sudden it was midnight and i was finally in bed but i couldn't sleep. i don't know if i slept all night. i was laying there, but i surely wasn't sleeping. and now i can barely keep my eyes open.
i'm dogsitting this weekend. the dog's cool. but he also comes with a bigscreen tv, digital cable, and king-size pillow-top bed. i plan on making up for last night by sleeping most, if not all, of the weekend away.
i may be guest posting tomorrow. it's kind of exciting, mucking about in someone else's world for a bit. so i guess i'll get up for that maybe.
i've rediscovered my instant messenger habit. the past few days, i've been logged into all three of the majors at the same time. it is a good way to burn the day at work, but i'm not getting a whole lot done.
angelfest 2004 tomorrow. guess i'll get up for that, too. guests will be welcomed. beers will be had. (does anyone remember "gutfest '89"? that shit was RAD.)
"don't stop thinkin' about tomorrow"
i'm ripping "the very best of fleetwood mac" right now. 'cause "players only love you when they're playing." sing it, stevie.
"angel" ended their feb sweeps with a sappy montage. how very whedon-y. but i remembered to tape "the o. c." AND the series finale of "til death do us part", so i figure i'm ahead of the game. even if there won't be a new "angel" for weeks and weeks and fred's hair is blue.
i want to take drum lessons.
i was excited about the nice springy day yesterday as i was driving home for lunch. i hate the sun, yet i still felt the early stages of spring fever. this definitely calls for happy hour on the deck at the long beach yardhouse.
charlize can't be aeon flux. is something wrong with the universe?
asked me to specify who i was referring to when i mentioned that i was having dreams about bloggers who i've never met. i can't really remember. it was some sort of blog party. i'm pretty sure he was there, as was ryan
. and maybe andi
. also, where the hell is my michigan quarter?
my doctor commended me on my paleness earlier this week. as she's poking and prodding me (and looking at my deep insides with a speculum), she starts chatting me up about the "porcelain" qualities of my skin. i laugh and correct her: "pasty". (sidenote: don't laugh with a speculum inside you.)
she regales me with stories about her and her friends in high school, sitting at the beach with nothing on but a bathing suit and baby oil. how much damage she's done to her skin and how young i'm going to look in the coming years.
i told her, though, that that doesn't change the fact that i live in southern california and kind of look like a dead person compared to my OC brethren. i was careful not to laugh, though.
quote for today:
Masturbation is the natural emotional outlet of those who...have already accepted as inevitable the wide gulf between their real futures and the expectations of their fantasies.
"i never meant to be the needle that broke your back"
a conversation between my sister and her boyfriend who she doesn't like very much anymore:
him: oh yeah, your birthday's comin' up, isn't it?
her: yep. sure is.
him: yeah, end of next month, right?
her: uh, no. this month.
him: no way.
her: yeah. this month.
him: since when?
i still feel like hell. every airspace in my head feels like it's about to burst. my top teeth are even starting to hurt. eh.
i've been going to bed early like a good little sick girl. nine last night. my eight year old neighbor probably stays up later than that.
and i'm sleeping for shit. i wake up at midnight and think i'm running late for work. something's wrong with my brain.
lots and lots of dreams, too. last night i had dreams about bloggers who i've never met. weird.
now i'm beginning to think that my body and brain are protesting the lack of self-action. i may have to break my little nonsense attempt. my health may depend on it.
p.s. to people in cold places: right now, it's 72 degrees. 46% humidity, and a nice 13mph ocean breeze. sorry.
i'm sick of being sick
i went to the doctor today for the yearly girly stuff and asked her about my cold. she asked for details, then looked around with a bright light into all my head holes and determined that i might have a sinus infection.
as she wrote me a prescription for antibiotics, she told me not to get it filled for another week or so. give the problem a chance to clear up on its own. fuck that. i already took my first dose an hour ago.
she also warned me about how the medication would cause problems with my birth control pill. but i've sworn off sex for the time being. so fuck that, too. i just want to feel better as soon as possible. i've never had this much snot in me at one time before. except for the time a long time ago when i had pnemonia, and that doesn't count.
i think i'll try swearing off sex-for-one, too. see how long i can do it. it kinda depresses me right now for some reason anyway. any wagers on how long i can go?
[p.s. to those making bets who asked for more info: it's been approx two weeks already with the sex-for-one ban. so those counting that in their guess, your bets start on 2/16/04. those counting today as the starting point: 3/01/04. fun.]