so i breed thicker skin and let my lustrous coat fill in and i'll never admit that i loved you...
last day at the soul-sucking job
i don't know how i'm going to finish up all the shit at work i have to do and all the shit at home i have to do when i'm this unbelievably tired. i know, i know: wah wah little crybaby. it's my own damn fault for waiting until the last minute.
people are starting to show signs of sadness regarding my upcoming absence from the area, and i'm having trouble mustering up any emotion for them. i'm too tired. too focused on the packing stage to concentrate on the ramifications of the moving stage.
they've hired my replacement. i heard today that my boss made a joke during the interview. the woman was gazing around his office and asking about the various mounted heads. she pointed at a wildebeest or some other cowlike african plainsgame and asked what it was. "a mirror," my boss replied. during an interview! what a jackass. but i don't know what's worse, his joke or her response: "wow, i never even heard of that animal before."
thank god for G. she's the kind of friend who's so flaky that even though she made me swear i'd hang out with her last night, she made a date with a new boy anyway. and on her way out she told me to pile up anything i can't find a home for in her apartment and she'd deal with it for me. she might not know what alliteration is, but she's super handy when you're doing a last-minute move.
i'd like to point out that her date was with a cop. her ex called the cops on her after she "snuck into" their old place to "borrow" a camera for her trip to alaska. the cop who showed up to harrass her ended up asking her out. see? sometimes being a hot chick who loves drama works out for the best.
i'm gonna miss nancy
. a lot.
and i'm gonna miss J. we actually had the conversation last saturday that i never thought we'd have. but we both laughed during the whole thing, which cemented for me the nature of our relationship: siblingrific.
with the quickness
i've spent the last hour on hold, trying to download an update for some software here and i wouldn't care except that one of the last duties i'm expected to do involves cranking a database and it keeps erroring out except that our ip has a problem with the tech support ftp site AND the website and i can't access the shit i need to access and i have other things i need to be doing. one of them does not include posting to the blog, but whatever. i don't need you judging me. i hate that 'judgment' doesn't have an 'e' in the middle. it's just ricockulous. the warehouse guy is taking a circular saw to my couches right now and i can hear it. there is no longer a bed in my apartment. i have to reformat my hard drive so that i can donate my crappy ass pc to my ex. tomorrow at lunch i have to help load my fridge into J's truck. i'm expected to hang out with G. i haven't cleaned out my office yet. i am not finished packing. this is all happening very fast. but my head is not spinning and i feel fine. overwhelmed at the levels of my professionalcrastination, but not overly stressed. i already know what's gonna blow my top. when my ex informs me later today that he can't pick up the shit tonight after all. to that i will tell him 'too fucking bad, buddy. now it's going to the highest bidder.' well, the tv anyway. if he doesn't take the computer, i'm gonna take it outside and beat it with blunt objects. i guess it would make more sense to find out whether he can pick it up BEFORE i spend the better part of the evening reformatting it. now i have to go inform people who matter that i can only spend one night visiting them. they are going to guilt trip the fuck right outta me. back to work.
the boss is busy even though he's supposed to be interviewing someone and so they didn't have anywhere to put her and they brought her over here.
i know, i know. but i did two solid hours. okay, an hour and a half.
the guy at the cable company couldn't spell 'providence'. even after i spelled it for him a few times, he repeated back to me 'probibenve'. i know some letters sound like other letters, i do. but still. after five minutes, we both agreed that maybe they should send the refund to my old address and leave it up to the post office to forward it.
i've thrown away two boxes and three black trash bags full of SHIT tonight so far, and i still can't bear to get rid of my gold hardhat. the future halloween possibilities alone. and who knows, maybe i'll end up driving cranes again.
the tire guys were all confused when i told them i didn't want my hubcaps put back on my car. "i'm just gonna throw 'em away." then they got this look on their faces. "okay, or you guys can 'throw them away'. whatever. i don't want them." so now they've got something to ebay, and i've got mismatched wheels that finally don't flipflap when i drive.
i just got my left axle (axel?) replaced, and now that it's quiet i can hear the right outer cv joint starting to go. the mechanic said to ride it out. it'll cost the same now or later when it really needs fixing. didn't even charge me for the diagnosis. so i've finally found an honest mechanic and i'm leaving him behind.
G's back from her two-week vacation. she leaves again on friday. so she's commanded me to go out with her tomorrow. fuck. i can't say no. she gives me these EYES. looks like matt
's gonna have to put up with some last minute panicky packing on wednesday night.
and work's gonna have to put up with me being tired and cranky on my last day of work. serves 'em right.
i just got out of a short meeting with the bossman and the editor and he seems to be under the impression that i'm going to design a new template, do some subscription fulfillment crapitydoo, train various people on various things, and some other frickityfrack, but i can't. "why?" he asked. "because," i said, "i still have to copy 'sailing the seas of cheese,' fucker."
okay, i didn't say "fucker."
sam adams just posted a job opening. it's the same job i do now. i applied immediately. i'm missing some of their requirements, but maybe they'll sense my love of beer and strong desire to work for them through my emailed resume and that will convince them. god...for the free beer alone...
do you know how hard it is to coordinate ads, burn copies of cds, AND find time to fuck around on the internet?
i had a rough weekend. fun, but rough. extra rough in that it didn't leave much room for packing.
friday night some coworkers thought it would be a good idea to say goodbye to me by plying me with giant mugs of guiness and a few shots of jager. since we were playing pool when the first shot settled in, i thought it would be a good idea to distract whoever was at the table by doing stupid dances and putting various body parts up on the rail. the next day i saw photographic evidence and wish a plague on all cameraphones.
saturday, after i successfully got sunscreen in my eye, i went to a baseball game. where i sweated my ass off and had fun and maybe drank too many beers in plastic bottles. but the fun didn't stop there! see, people caught wind that i'd never really hung out in ellay before, so we went to the tiki ti bar (where they serve nothing but tropical mixed drinks--no beer at all), the dresden (yay "swingers"!), and the good luck bar (where they were not very happy with our game day attire, even though they keep it so dark in there that bats and cats would probably crash into things).
from sunset blvd, i could see the griffith observatory, and realized that there WAS one thing i'm going to regret not getting to before i leave.
sunday i spent most of the day recovering from saturday night's festivities by eating food all day and not getting off the couch until the early afternoon. then i packed some.
it's like TORTURE. it really is. but i managed to download "this way" by dilated peoples featuring kanye west, and few repeats of that left me feeling alright about the whole packing thing.
books and cds is all i've completed so far, and i'm at box 14. TOO MUCH SHIT. plus, packing got in the way of me going to adult night at the roller rink. foiled again.
boxes and tape
my fingers are coated in newsprint and i've only completed seven or eight boxes. all full of books. and i've got a good five more boxesworth to go. liking books sucks when it comes time to pack. i haven't even hit the cds yet. blecch. i own too much shit. TOO MUCH SHIT. i can't wait to take the couches to the dump. at least then it will look like i've accomplished something. who not only procrastinates for weeks but also plans on hitting the road a mere 36 hours after her last day at work? ME. too much SHIT. to top it off, i picked up jem's (no, not the faux punkrock cartoon character) album thinking it'd be good packing music. wrong. it's a great album, but just makes me retrospective and nostalgic for every piece of garbage that i pick up. with that, i'm going to go change the cd. yes.
J won't let me wear any angels gear or anything red to the angels/dodgers game at dodgers stadium. he's afraid that his east LA brethren will heckle me...OR WORSE. i think he's full of crap, but maybe it's true. especially after the SPANKING the angels gave the boys in blue last night.
so i'm wearing a homestar runner shirt. because i hear he's quite the athlete.
i already got sunscreen in my eye. this is my third or fourth time going to a game with these same people, and i think all they remember is me going "ow, my fucking eye" for three hours straight.
curiosity killed the cat
man, i'm stupid. i just figured it out. i'm stupid and he's extremely kooky. and his IP is sneaky. registered out of ashburn, va... totally threw me for a LOOP. since i grew up out there i figured maybe an oldschool friend had happened by and blah blah blah blah happy fucking friday! it's my LAST TGIF from this particular office. next friday, if i time it right, i will be enjoying a sunset from the south rim of the grand mothereffin canyon. a round of guiness, barkeep! blerg. blahg. 41 more minutes!
You reference this site through no one.
You get your internet access through either MCI or UUNET Technologies.
You may live in or near Ashburn, Virginia. You may just access the internet through a company located there.
You may be in the UK.
At least leave an anonymous comment. Or email me.
It's like I'm reverse e-stalking. Reveal yourself already, 220.127.116.11; I'm about to cough up a hairball over here.
P.S. If you can talk tampabay.rr.com into it, maybe they could leave an anonymous comment as well?
the fucking ad sales guy won't leave me the fuck alone and so i will call him kent
and he's all smarmy and says hey, monique, how on earth are they ever going to find someone to take your place?
and i don't even look away from my screen and i say to be quite honest, i don't give a fuck, kent.
two more business days and a wakeup
last night, i did laundry. and then i was going to pack. but i remembered suddenly that i had made plans with ryan
last weekend to get together sometime this week. i picked up my phone to let him know that the week was almost out and we were pretty poor planners and maybe we should aim for early next week, but my phone rang at me instead.
my exhusband wanted to meet for drinks. weird. but a nice surprise. and, of course, a distraction from packing. again i let another potentially quiet night of packing slip by me.
he picked me up, and i made him wear the vegas pink glasses and pose for a photo. i have to say i might've finally found the one thing that makes him look bad. he's incredibly hot and looks good in everything. except, apparently, the vegas pink glasses.
anyway, we had fun. we split a pitcher of sierra nevada and talked about his girlfriend, her kid, the real estate market, cars, his girlfriend, being single, my sister, racecars, his girlfriend, sex, his job, her kid... he's so in love with his new life. and i am ecstatic for him. he's happy, and he's found a good match. he has passion in his life again, something we both had become unfamiliar with as a pair.
we had a short, awkward discussion about how he still felt a little like a failure because of our divorce. i told him to knock it off.
it was good seeing him.
but now i've got a lot of packing to do.
a pro version
this is what happens when a trained professional catches wind of my itinerary:
click on the image to see it full-size.
J's one badass designer. he threw that together in twenty minutes or so. i should make him a t-shirt. or at least give him a cookie.
my 2004 u.s. tour, proudly sponsored by camel and honda
that, my friends, is one fucked up itinerary.
it didn't really hit me until around 530 yesterday afternoon. a coworker came over and relieved me of my bicycle, my fish, and about 40 beanie babies.
it was after they drove away and i went to go in the kitchen and there was this big blank space on the counter. no tank. no OC. i actually fretted a bit, worried whether her kids would take good care of him, realized that i actually am moving and this isn't just pretend.
OC is really gone. yeah, he's just a fish. but he's kind of significant. i've always been most affected by the chronology of things. timestamps. i happened to get OC right after moving here. he's lived for three years. now he is gone. and i will be, too. it's even more fitting now that i named him after the orange county fair.
today i got an interoffice email from OC's new mommy. she said the fish is doing fine, and that her kids LOVE him. they kept her up late into the night asking all sorts of questions about him. how does he sleep? when does he sleep? why does the sucker fish always hide in the castle? are you sure it's a he? how can you tell? can we get another fish and make fish babies?
so now i feel better about the whole thing. OC's moving on to provide fodder for kiddie questions. i'm moving on to find...well, i guess to just find some fodder.
i do need to stop pontificating on fodder, though, and start putting some shit in some boxes and then sealing the boxes with some tape. good lord am i a procrastinator.
dot and the kangaroo
last night, a character on an old episode of "buffy" sparked up a didgeridoo, and it immediately made me remember the movie "dot and the kangaroo." i hadn't thought of that movie in probably twenty years or so.
i remember it being a good movie, but scary and sad. i remember crying a lot and still watching it every chance i got. it was the early days of hbo, i think. it was on all the time.
it brought to mind my kidself's favorite movies. "the secret of nimh." "watership down." "the last unicorn".
none of these are happy la-la movies. they generally have a happy ending, but there is a lot of sadness in the plot. and sometimes the happy ending isn't as clear-cut as say, a prince on a white horse and a sunset kiss.
i wonder why my sevenish-year-old self liked these movies so. they're all a bit disturbing. so, yeah--does anyone else remember "dot and the kangaroo"? is it actually as sad as i remember it?
just say it out loud. aloud. outloud. whatever, it makes me giggle.
yesterday i worked on my car. all of my neighbors, including the 10-year-old next door, found this very intriguing. maybe it was my bright yellow t-shirt that says "summer camp" on it and has a giant cartoon dancing beaver. either way, honeycar is purring over her new plugs and plug wires. and i'm purring about the new windshield wipers. they actually wipe!
my boss's 15-year-old son just offered one of the graphic designers eight bucks if he could teach him how to hack into the cybersitter software his parents just installed. eight bucks! J told him he'd think about it for a hundred. a hundred bucks!
yesterday a boston friend called me at work. i asked him about some of our old haunts, if they were still around. i mentioned that we should go visit one or two of them sometime. he said, "of course. as soon as you get back home, we'll go." thing is, him calling the area "home" didn't feel weird.
: ah yes, the tool. the tool was this, well, tool of a guy who i noticed was wearing the same pair of pants day in and day out. and it's not as if he just had multiple pairs of nice pants and i was just jumping to conclusions. wait, maybe you should just read it here
so that i don't retell the whole story unnecessarily. i had a daily counter going on the sidebar of my old template, and i do believe it got up in the fifties before he got laid off. poor tool. poor pants.
a big shout out to the "three word band name" game
. i believe the comments numbered over 200, and me and two of my buddies ended up playing it all friday night as well. to the chagrin of the other seven people around the table, who aren't all that into music and didn't give a shit and probably thought we were sorta lame.
stanley bit my fuckin' eyelid! i thought it was just a crazy eyebrow zit, but it's beginning to hurt hurt hurt. and my eyelid is all puffy and droopy like when people get stung in the eye by a bee or get punched in the face.
i hate stanley.
maybe i can convince the people at work that it's actually pinkeye. they'll send me home early, where i can continue doing what i've done the last few nights: pretend to pack. the boxes are out. i've got tape. things are in piles. but no actual packing is taking place. instead, i've allowed every new arrival from netflix to convince me that watching a movie is very important.
i picked up this picture
from kid jacque
. i think maybe i could do it. and how perfect for exhibitionists who are still a tiny bit scared to fully commit to their fetish.
a reminder: send me your address
and i'll send you a postcard from the road. i swear. i'm much better at sending postcards than i am at packing.
a found poem, originated from J via outlook
you. . . the dismantling of an icon.
the end of an era
the demise of all that is pooh.
the apt that was held together by smoke and cat hair.
if your ex gets the tv that's cool. don't worry.
i probably shouldn't admit this, but that's true about my apartment.
confidential to tampabay.rr.com, gfo.seagate.com, and 18.104.22.168: curiosity is getting the best of me. meow. please say hello.
RHODE ISLAND? wow.
yeah, i know.
wow. so do you plan on looking for jobs online and stuff?
yeah, i've already started.
i guess you've got to get that done before you leave. they don't have the internet in rhode island, do they?
you must be from southern california.
born and raised.
on my way to fullerton, i suddenly thought of zinger. i was on my way to the place where we met, and even though he is a complete idiot, he's harmless and exTREMEly cute.
so i called him. "holy shit! monique! how the hell are you?!" he said. he seemed genuinely glad to be talking to me. we caught up, nutshell style. he was surprised to hear my news.
i didn't give him much warning, though, so i didn't see him last night. we may get together tonight.
he's not someone i feel the need to say goodbye to. i don't really know why i called him at all. i think maybe my recent desire to get laid overcame me.
because when he wouldn't give me a definite "no", i got disappointed that i couldn't then make plans with rockstar boy. what would have happened, with my luck, is that they'd both give me maybes and then they'd both show up. not my style. but good gettin' laid odds.
i'm calling it now. tonight is going to leave me tired and hurting tomorrow. i've avoided my fullerton friend's phone calls for weeks now, and she finally got a hold of me. she wants to hang out before i leave. i couldn't say no. i'm going to be cursing every ring on my workphone tomorrow.
i hope it's worth it.
in the mail today i got two shirts that i ordered from loose tooth
. i like them very much.
on saturday i used some rembrandt
2-hour teeth bleaching system while i watched "house of sand and fog." the former worked wonders and is worth the twenty bucks, the latter was okay.
i just remembered that i had a GIANT
reese's cup on friday. it was white chocolate and it was GIANT. it might have been the best candy i've ever bought from a 7-11. heaven.
today i cruised by exploding dog
and was taken with sam's drawings. again. there are some very interesting new t-shirts for sale on that site.
i guess that's about it for now. tell me YOUR favorite new product.
seriously, world, knock it the fuck off. i don't have time for the ad salesguy to say he's going to miss me and that we work so well together and that i'm a young woman and he hopes i go have a life and "tear 'em up." because this ad salesguy and i, we can't STAND each other. it's like he walked in my office and then went "blah blah blah blah blah blah blah" and expected a standing ovation or tears or a hug or some shit. my boss won't stop creating moments where he can interrupt me or be near me because he wants to open up a dialogue and a) bother me, and b) find out if i took a job with the competition.
i'm so fucking frustrated. things are completely fucked right now with my sister. yes, everyone is entitled to their opinion. yes, everyone has a right to their feelings. but i've been faking it for so good and for so long with my family that i don't know if i can fake it any more. the faking started as the only mechanism that would enable me to have any sort of relationship with my kin. so if i stop faking, we (me and my sister in particular) have little chance of becoming the real friends i thought we were becoming but it turns out we weren't because i think maybe deep down she sorta HATES me. when i was a kid i was always amazed at her ability to only see things in black and white and never gray. never ever gray. i now know that that hasn't changed and i don't know if i can handle it. it breaks my fucking heart, all of it.
DAMMIT. i would rip my hair out if i wasn't so busy eating powdered sugar donettes and drinking milk. and YOU. cakeandeatittoocakeandeatittoocakeandeatittoo. give up the cake and find a way to make yourself happy.
finally, i'm flattered at how penciled-in my calendar is becoming, because everyone wants one last shot at me before i leave town. but where were most of them when i was still right here? instead of inviting me out and putting me in an environment where i will spend money that i need to save for my trip, maybe you should bring over a sixer and help me pack. oh, but then i wouldn't be entertaining you, would i?
i need to get laid. it doesn't help that rockstar boy is still trying to get in touch with me. but i haven't done the calculations yet to know which is more powerful/important: getting laid or sticking to my "no more casual sex" rule.
i had shut the computer off, because its insistent whirring and the modem's blinking lights do nothing but distract me from the task at hand: packing.
i'm doing okay, considering. i threw away a black trash bag and four boxes, all full of junk. junk that demanded to be looked at piece by piece.
i came across a dozen or more qualification books, all outdated and irrelevant. damage control, QMOW, rules of the road, DC and AC aids to navigation references... i have carried them in boxes to three or four different residences in various states, never needing them once. they are heavy and ridiculous.
i also found the back of my first lifejacket, my name still written in bold black across the bottom, the orange cloth covered in grease and dirt. i found my old safety glasses, "BM3" paintpenned on the side and every crevice jammed with 8-year-old buoy crud. i found the whistle that was attached to the zipper of my float coat.
letters of praise, certificates of course completions, an "order of the black hull" announcement. i pulled what i could out of frames and kept only the paper. glass and wood are too bulky.
amongst all this nostalgic garbage i came across an old letter from C, dated 1999. she wrote that one of the things she admires most about me is that i've never known my course in life but seem reasonably content to bounce around in search of it. she closed with, "You're fine. I'm not worried about you."
i haven't seen this letter since the day i opened it. it seems appropriate to have read it tonight. and i had to take a break from throwing away inconsequential representations of my past to fire this old IBM back up. to purge my nostalgia here instead of it consuming me.
happy birthday, my new best friend!
in honor of mynewbestfriend's second birthday, i'd like to tell you a story about the best gift i ever got.
i didn't really know how to feel about turning 18. it didn't mean a whole lot. i could already get into R-rated movies, and 21 was the next big AGE when SOMETHING happens. i wasn't even happy that i was closer to 21, since i didn't drink. i'd already lost my virginity. the only thing 18 got you was cigarettes, and i hadn't kicked my smoking habit into high gear yet.
i had to work at the movie theatre that day. which wasn't a big deal. i liked to avoid major dates on the calendar by pretending that i HAD to work that day. my boyfriend, greg, came by to take me out to lunch.
he kept looking at his watch, but i only noticed it in hindsight. we had a great lunch, but i began to get anxious about being gone too long. he played it off, though, and kept me distracted for a little over an hour.
i went back to work and kissed greg goodbye and that was that. but then devon came up to me with a tape. we had a shared love of poppy rap music, and he told me to take a walk with him. "this song is stuck in my head and my car's not here. let's listen to it in yours real quick."
i will never forget the following sequence of events:
putting the key in the ignition
popping that tape in
hearing a GREAT BIG BASS THUD
turning to devon with my jaw dropped
him laughing and clapping
me turning the volume up while still staring dumbfounded
i took the long way home that day. me and my very loud radio were very very happy that i was out of work and behind the wheel.
my parents had orchestrated the entire thing. turns out devon helped my dad with the installation, while my mom stood lookout in case greg couldn't keep me out of visual range.
it was the perfect gift. it was something that only someone who really knows me could have got for me. and the delivery? good god. i would've been just as happy with a bazooka in a box. but to hear that BIG BASS RUMBLE as a surprise? what an aural treat.
i've had that bass tube for 11 1/2 years now. it's currently installed in its third vehicle. it survived a rollover that totalled the car. it's beginning, only now, to show signs of deterioration. even when the volume's on mute, the amp inside its shell emits a steady hum. it hiccups over speedbumps sometimes.
RUMBLE thump RUMBLE thump RUMBLE thump
since my switch to rock over the last decade, though, my bazooka is not performing to my specs. she's more of a RUMBLE RUMBLE thump girl. when she finally kicks the bucket, i'll be looking to replace her with a system that is just as strong in the midranges.
but she's served me well. i love that thing. and i love my mom and dad and greg and devon for caring about me enough to make it happen.
i'm walking back from getting my mail and i run into my neighbor and he tells me he just got fired and i'm like "hey, i just quit" and then he asks what i'm doing tonight. i told him what i had every intention of doing: purging my closets, packing, and going to bed early.
turns out he and some of my other neighbors are marinating steak, and lots of it. that's all it takes to convince me. and then when i get there they are playing texas hold 'em. fuckers. i'm not a gambler, but i lost twenty-six bucks to them before and after dinner. i don't really have twenty-six bucks to lose for no reason, but they did feed me after all.
this is no fault of theirs, but even though i was having fun, i realized again and again why it's time for something else. i've given it three years. and i've given it a good try. but i have no niche. i have to believe it's out there somewhere. i haven't found it yet.
today i also realized that it's a lot of fun when someone pops out of the hole you've built for them. you can think you really know someone. at least you convince yourself that you have a good idea of what they're about, what they're into, the level they're sitting at.
and then sometimes they show you just a little little thing that reminds you that not only are you an asshole for assuming anything about anyone, but also that this human world still has some surprises in store for you.
it blows all of your compartmentization to smithereens. sometimes, rarely, it is such a fucking trip to overanalyze things.
this roadtrip is really starting to come together. it's a good thing it's summer. people don't seem to mind last-minute notice and random phone calls as much in the summer.
i want chocolate.
i've secured a travel buddy
for the first half of the journey. i've got rad people and their open invites in austin and new orleans.
has agreed to a lunch date in either ypsilanti or hamtramck, which makes me wonder why that area of michigan seems to dislike standard vowels so much.
i realized how old i'm getting when i learned the term "chiefing out" from the big baked bean
. but he has kindly offered to take me country dipping in the backwoods of kentucky anyway. yeah, i had to ask about "country dipping", too.
and i have to admit it's pretty convenient that guido
is back from hell and living in/near myrtle beach. i haven't hit an atlantic coast beach town in season in a very long time.
remember to keep those addresses
coming. i love sending postcards. it's fun to buy stamps that cost less than the stamps you usually buy.
i really need to go find some chocolate. and some cherries. maybe a milkshake.
oh shit. i just realized there are no in-n-outs back east. crap.
still, though... a nice bowl of ice cream? a mickey mouse cookie from disneyland? a large tumbler full of iced tea? i'm not even hungry. maybe i've got a tapeworm. menopause? pregnancy? nah. you gotta engage in certain activities for that to happen.
did someone just say "chocolate"? okay, then. but did you say "donut", maybe? boston creme pie?
i just remembered FANEUIL HALL in boston and BIG GIANT BREADBOWLS FULL OF CHOWDA and walking around making a mess on cobblestone streets. fuck yeah.
i really love cherries. i don't care that they are one of the most expensive fruits at albertson's. or that i have to wait patiently until spring to enjoy them.
what i don't like about them is when i spend eight dollars on a giant bag of them and then think it would be a good idea to bring them along on my trip to vegas last month because what could be better than cardancing in the desert with J and eating some refreshing cherries? except i forgot about them and ate taco bell instead and then when we finally got to vegas i forgot about them again. along with the banana that was with them.
until noon the next day when i sat up in bed and yelled, "J! the cherries!" and he didn't even need any details. he just threw his shoes on, grabbed his keys, and was GONE.
apparently, a giant bag of cherries and an overripe banana can do some damage when left in the back of a car in the desert for almost 24 hours. in the process, they sadly had become completely inedible.
i miss those cherries. they were really good.
i picked up this link
at que sera sera
and it's fascinating
. i think i might just participate. imagine, writing an email to be sent to yourself at some future date.
i viewed a random one that someone sent themself. made me smile. then i thought maybe i need some more cats:
boys are awful now, they were awful a long time ago, and i bet they're awful when you're reading this. go get another cat. i love you, you smell good. have you opened the 401(k) yet?
while watching 'winged migration' over the weekend, i started wondering whether the idea of planes would even have occurred to us if birds/bats/flying squirrels/bugs never existed.
the navy ad that goes something like "if your life was a novel, would anyone want to read it?" has been stuck in my head lately, which led me to wondering who their ad company is and where they're located and maybe they're hiring.
my friend jen, who i haven't seen in years, got so excited about my drive-thru visit that she's already started stockpiling breastmilk in the freezer so that we can really party. did i mention she lives in new orleans? fuck yeah.
i'd like to repeat zack
's either/or game here. he put it in the comments and i think it's even better than my "orgasm or laughter" one. if you had to spend the rest of your life with one of these afflictions, which would it be:
a) constant nose-whistle
b) unavoidable wet mouth breathing
i can't pick one! they're both awful! zack rocks at either/or.
keep the addresses
coming, people. because who doesn't like getting a postcard? ooh, maybe i'll just start forwarding my bills around the country. i certainly don't want to pay them.
i know it seems like such bullshit to be calling insomnia at a mere 1130pm pacific time but i have a clear two-day history with this and my vomitation of posts is probably an indication there is a lot going on in my head lately and my brain won't shut the fuck off. it's the little things these days tiny tiny tiny like getting the address of a stranger to send a postcard to
and that making me smile from ear to ear which is saying a lot because i have a rather small mouth. literally, that is, because i think if you ask anyone who knows me they would giggle. chuckle maybe. at least a random guffaw. i have all these grand ideas about this roadtrip and i took babycar to the doctor today and the damage wasn't nearly as bad as i thought it could be maybe partially because when you roll in and say that you know for a fact the cv boot is at the very least cracked and you are very certain that the entire joint needs replacing because you've procrastinated and driven on it for nine months--and then they stop you and say, "honey, slow down. what's the sound
the car is making, that'll give us an idea"--and you respond, "please. take the whole axel and stop asking me silly questions". and then they might say "we should really pressure-test your radiator" and you say "is there an obvious leak?" and they say "well, no" and you say "let's get down to brass tacks here. you've seen the condition of everything under the hood that has spent considerable time in places of the country that require salt on the roads and sometimes have hurricanes and keep your pressure the hell away from the rust that is keeping that radiator in one piece." then they say, "yes, i guess you know to just check the coolant level from time to time." and i say "yes" as i hand them the bright red credit card with the angels logo on it and that there is enough to make you nostalgic because your editor has already bought you tickets, at dodger stadium no less which is a stadium you've not been to, for a kickass game with kickass people who when they invited you didn't know you'd be saying sayonara soon and this makes you think of how you had that short meeting with said editor before giving final formal two weeks' notice and she was so supportive that she ended five minutes of praise with, "you know, swarovski is in rhode island. i could make a call."
i haven't decided yet how to feel
about people who do this:
"okay, so i have to be up in like five hours. right? it's 11 now, 11 to 12 is one, 12 to 1 is two, 1 to 2 is three, 2 to 3 is four, 4 to 5 is five... yeah, like FIVE hours."
did i mention the finger-counting?
and i completely am in love with shannon for calling "de la soul"
i highly suggest you take a moment to partake in ruzxs'
round of 'three word band names'. it's addictive.
and very fun if you're engaging in a silent strike at work, as i am.
i need to do this now before any info gets lost in the boxing and shipping shuffle. any and all interested in receiving postcards from the road, please send your mailing address to me
will it be a picture of the largest ball of twine? the grand canyon? an old postcard from cleveland that i've had in my backpack for six years? a 3x5 card with a hand-drawn image of new orleans on it? the mind reels at the options...
i've been posing this question to strangers in social situations, and it's proving to be quite entertaining:
if you had to give up one of the following forever, no exceptions, which would it be: orgasms or laughing?
one woman answered that she would give up laughing, because once she had an orgasm, she'd be happy and she'd laugh anyway. i don't think she understood the nature of the game.
anyway, play along.
the stench of me leaving must have wafted past my boss' door. i've been getting strange cryptic emails from him all day, asking questions about procedures and who is familiar with them besides me.
god, i hope he's not actually clueless to my pending resignation but is thinking about laying me off. if that's the case, i hope i don't beat him to the punch, because unemployment benefits wouldn't hurt.
my buddy in san francisco works for a magazine as well (i was going to link them here, but don't want to get him in trouble if they track shit like that). he sent me one of their t-shirts today (along with a cd full of hilarious memorial day weekend photos). their t-shirts are cool. this reminded me again that i need to be working for a better company. we don't even have t-shirts. and if we did, we wouldn't be allowed to send them to people. hell, we'd probably have to pay full price if we wanted one for ourselves.
baby honey car goes to the car doctor tomorrow. i shouldn't admit this, but sending my car to the shop affects me almost the same as when my cats have to stay all day at the vet. except that this will be much more expensive.
anyone know any good trucking/freight/moving companies? i need to arrange a small shipment.
jesus. enough with the moving updates already. *yawn*
you shut up, ajax's blog
peanut really hates ontario.
me being an asshole alert.
alliteration girl: i don't mind going to dinner parties and stuff with my married friends, it's just the stigmata that goes with it.
conversation at a bar a few hours earlier:
drunk guy: no way. i don't go down on girls.
neighbor G: wait. you don't eat pussy?
DG: no fucking way.
G: you can stop runnin' your game then. i don't date guys who won't eat pussy.
DG: alright then. but you gotta understand, you're 36 years old. your stuff's seen a lot of dick. my tongue ain't goin' there.
me: oh no. she's only ever been with two guys.
DG: oh! that's different. i'll eat her for days.
G: really? but i bet you won't date a girl who won't suck cock.
DG: damn straight!
G: then i guess we're not meant to be.
DG: you won't suck my dick?
DG [to me]: you understand, right? i mean, how can i eat what a bunch of dicks have been in? i'm worried about my health.
me: of course. because girls don't ever wash there, and it's definitely the amount of different dick contact that causes an STD.
DG: i'm glad someone understands. so you'll suck my cock, right?
DG: i don't know how to talk to you.
, in a word: breathtaking.
one thing, though. one thing that i'm realizing is going to be hard to adjust to again.
you can only get beer at liquor stores in most of the northeast. not at convenience stores or grocery stores. and in rhode island, these package stores close at 8pm and are not open at all on sundays.
that is flippin' WEIRD. and requires a lot of preplanning for football season.
i very recently had an upsetting discussion with my sister. i love the girl, but she apparently is using her disapproval of my upcoming move to point out all the ways i've hurt her over the past year or so. ways that i was never aware of, and frankly don't make a whole lot of sense to me. i apologized, though, because i certainly didn't mean to hurt her. but i hope this means that she'll speak up in the future. i you need me to fix something, i need to know that it's broken.
i do find it weird that she is focusing most of her disappointment on one line in an email, but now that i've thought about it, she has half a point. it's true: to be closer to my family is not the reason i'm moving. B could've made her offer from the depths of montana and i'd most likely be moving there. so, if i'm to be honest, it's a BONUS that where i'm moving happens to be closer to my family.
but it's not the reason. because i'm not sure that there is any reason. this is a big "why not?" situation, not one with a "why".
she's upset that i can't explain it in certain terms, and she's upset that i'm not concerned with the "what ifs". that's fine, i suppose. two people sometimes will never be able make each other's worldviews correspond. or even comprehensible.
she fears i am running from something. that maybe that's what i've done my whole adult life. she thinks that i should stick it out in california instead of packing up and moving on again. that is a valid consideration.
except that it's not as if i ran TO california looking for something to begin with. it's not that i ran here and couldn't find whatever that is and now i'm giving up. i moved here because my ex-husband was transferred here.
i don't regret that i've been able to experience hawaii and california as a result of my ex's job, but i'd like it noted that i didn't CHOOSE either of those locations. i ended up in them. and now i want to go somewhere because i want to go there. that's it.
it's the journey, my friend. the JOURNEY.
i regret that i got so defensive. i regret that i yelled. because what i most regret is giving her the satisfaction of me having the defend myself at all. i don't owe her that. i don't need to explain; i don't need to apologize.
and i will end this by giving her open permission to have the first "i told you so" if i ever end up admitting that this experiment turned out to be a big mistake. it saddens me, though, that if it ends up working out, she won't take back her words. in fact, we will probably never discuss it again.
come ON. are you fucking kidding me?
what makes it worse is that about once a year i come up with a great idea for a new product, but then i decide that it's stupid and most of the time i forget i ever had the idea (C tells me that i should really do something with these ideas, but i never do) and tonight i saw an ad for a product that i distinctly remember coming up with on the train from d.c. to new york right before new year's and telling D and C about it while we were in line at the atm. fuckin oral b. anyway:
dude, seriously. what's up? you look like something's on your mind.
so... i'm moving.
[etc, etc, etc.]
you CAN'T move. summer's just starting.
i know, i know. it seems really sudden, but it's what i want to do, and it's been coming for a while. the whole idea of it makes me happy.
but... but, i'm going to be gone for the next two weeks, and then i'm gone july fourth weekend. this is really bad timing for me.
i know. i thought of that. this timing sucks...
how can you leave me? you're the one bright spot in my life right now.
um, we JUST started hanging out. but, yes, you're ONE of my bright spots. but i'll visit.
it doesn't matter. i can't believe you're leaving me. i mean, i mean... just a few more months. let us have some quality time. give yourself more time to get ready to go.
it's not... i just need to go. i've wanted to go. it's time for me to try something else.
it's so STUPID, though. you can't. you can't leave me. i can't believe i'm busy all this month with fun stuff and then when i get back you'll be gone.
WHAT?!?!? are you kidding me? how can you be MOVING? now you're moving and i've missed the boat because you're MOVING?
um, look. i'm not sure there was a boat to begin with, but if you were gonna miss it, you missed it by disappearing for a few months, not by my moving.
what are you TALKING about? i thought YOU were supposed to call ME back.
and you waited to figure it out for MONTHS. it's not a big deal.
it's a GUY, isn't it? you're moving for a GUY and i missed my BOAT.
[what i wanted to say:]
look, i understand. i do. but maybe learn something from this. if you dig someone, if you like hanging out with someone or if you want to date them or whatever--make it HAPPEN. you can't sit somebody on your back burner for weeks and then be shocked and saddened when you check back and the burner is empty. sometimes simmering something on off for a while might work out in your favor, but most of the time it doesn't. you played the odds. you lost.
oh, and by the way? IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU
. so chill the fuck out and wish somebody bon voyage already. godDAMN.
i refuse to quote bon jovi here, but i want to
because, inarguably, it IS my life.
i don't know if it's because some people are unhappy with their own situations. i don't know if it's that seeing someone shirk their societal obligations in favor of pursuing real happiness is an affront to all that some hold near and dear. i don't know if it's just that people are inherently selfish, and do not like their comfort levels toyed with by someone else tipping the boat all the way over.
but whatever it is, I DON'T LIKE IT. it's my selfish year, so i refuse to let it bog me down. but that doesn't mean i won't bitch and vent about it here.
i'm sorry if my plans to up and leave my current locale upsets you. i'm sorry if you can't wrap your head around it. i'm sorry if it hurts your feelings that i would pack up and move to RI and not to ____. do not take it personally. it's not you. it's that maybe i don't want to live in ____.
and that is all BESIDES THE POINT. this isn't about YOU.
yes, i'll admit it's flattering. because the only way this makes sense is if i assume that deep down you're just a tiny bit jealous that either: a) you're not capable of doing what i'm doing, or b) i'm moving to yet another location that is not the same as yours.
i'm not a mind reader. although i'm pretty sure that with some of you, it's that you won't have a place to stay now when you want to visit southern california. to that i say, pick up and move there yourself. it might do you some good.
ergh. i don't mean half of what i've just written here. and no, it's not meant to be directed at YOU. or any single YOU at all. so don't take it personally.
you be selfish about you and i'll be selfish about me and we'll see where that gets us for right now, okay? because, honestly and scout's honor, this is not (NOT) about you.
i may have just made a horrible mistake. i typed in iambored.com
, and decided to check out tetris. i haven't played tetris in probably ten years, give or take.
but it all came back to me. i may not be able to do any real work at all anymore. ever again. good thing my boss won't have that workstation internet content checker thingie installed until after i leave.
tetris tetris tetris tetris.
HAHAHAHA! (<-that always looks so lame.) just click this link
about boxes of ladybugs for sale on amazon, and read down to the customer reviews. hee hee. HAH. LOL. (i really can't find one i like. but i'm laughin' over here!)
thanks to nancy
, i found out that this is what, apparently, is true about me as far as google is concerned:
taking a bath teensblast
one of the lovely internet models from matt's models
taking a bath hot slut
taking a bath porno inside
mine, by alex v
a great find by matt
an upright ficus benjamina type with a bushy growth pattern
the hottest female comedian on the comedy circuit today
taking a bath hot slut suckin cock and goin for broke
a class act
unusual in that she is both a femal prince and a toreador instead of a ventrue
a native of los angeles
practical and down
the best gift a writer could ever give him/herself
is available for parties
een van de nieuwste aanwinsten binnen het eigen de amstel
no longer signed to sony
taking a bath on
echter niet normaal
only too eager to bring them over
ervan overtuigd dat je in een fractie elkaars kwaliteiten moet gebruiken en dat de fractie er als team zal moeten "staan"
shot and has to be smuggled out of hospital before kessler arrives
a highly exclusive experienced dominatrix
still at the party
i sure do like to take a lot of baths. and do a lot of dirty things. and matt and alex seem to dig me. oh yeah, and fuck sony! those bastards!
p.s. to terrified
: can you help with the german-looking things about me?
i purchased the perfect father's day present yesterday. i got my dad a two-month membership in the beer of the month club
. two months doesn't seem like very long, but you get 12 bottles each month, and it's not all that cheap. i also staggered delivery, so that if i happen to forget his birthday in august, he'll forgive me as soon as that next package of microbrews arrives.
me: check it out. B made me buy a belt when i was visiting her.
J: okay. and?
me: she said it was stupid that i never where a belt.
J: yeah, but is it stupider to not wear a belt, or to wear a stupid-looking belt?
did mention that it seems i've been living my life as if i found out that i'm going to die by the end of the year. everyone i've repeated this to has agreed. but J's the one who came up with the perfect plan. he said i should use that story as part of my resignation letter.
Please consider this letter my formal two-weeks' notice. As I have recently found out that I have an inoperable condition which will lead to my untimely death within the next six months, I can't in good faith continue to waste my time behind a computer moniter taking orders from you via intercom. I trust that you will understand how ridiculous it would be for me to stay.
Please treat this information as confidential; I do not want anyone's pity or questioning eyes. Furthermore, I do not wish to discuss the details of my illness.
Thank you for the opportunities you've given me, and for never once granting me a shred of dignity or respect. Under your tutelage, I have learned exactly which qualities to avoid in any future employment situations.
happy friday! it'll be laundry and packing for me. this is my first weekend home in a long time, and i'm going to spend it saving money by hermiting down.
Speaking of fucked up, Ajax
has been doing an excellent job of inflating my ego. I think everybody can learn an important lesson from him, he is probably the best blogger in the world right now.
p.s. diet vanilla coke does kind of suck
removal (or, three cans of murphy's red)
the forest for the trees...
it started with the literal rose-colored glasses.
retrospectively, i was granted 20/20,
all the way back sixty days or so...
so if there is blame (which there is not)
i would point a finger at duckie, and at uncle pumpkin
both of whom encouraged a last minute plane ticket
veritable strangers who made (only in retrospect)
it all make sense.
because inertia, in case you've forgotten your eighth grade science class, works two ways.
so what it was, i suppose, was your kick of kinetics
that made a stopped ball start rolling again.
nothing has stopped it since.
words have tried. i've been able to ignore.
ignoring i learned from a dear nonstranger.
two days after the new year i said,
"i don't know if this counts as a resolution, but i'm gonna make it my selfish year."
i wasn't able to ignore the first few speedbumps, but i don't look down on myself for it being the sixth month already.
because as long as you can afford to get yourself where you want to go (wherever that it is)
and as long as you can ignore the rattle your old car makes over the speedbumps (because if it's still moving forward, what's the difference?)
and as long as you can manage those three magic words...
the rest is insignificant (and will, assuredly, work itself out in the end).
pretend this is ajax's blog talking, because i don't think mine talks. plus i totally ripped the idea from him
a monkey riding a dog. really. that's what you've got for us. did you really expect someone to laugh over your clever use of 'dogie'? myself, i just figured you misspelled it.
yeah. that's good stuff. a monkey riding a dog. monkeys doing anything people-like in people-clothes is pretty entertaining.
clearly. but you couldn't even find a penguin? something riding a penguin or a penguin riding something, now THAT is riotous.
i don't really get it. what's your problem today?
frankly, i'm a little worried about your rashness of late. just what do you plan to do about money?
i've decided i don't particularly care.
and two cats and a fish in a car with no a/c, crossing the high desert in JULY?
please. everyone will be fine. even if i have to only drive at dawn and dusk.
have you even notified anyone whose couches you're planning on commandeering?
well, no. not yet.
you're kind of an asshole, you know that?
of course. didn't you read the spoonerism story?
oh yeah. like i can keep up with all of ajax's drivel and then read every word you type as well. you ARE an asshole.
you're a little mean.
so? what are you gonna do about it? tattle to ajax?
i notice you keep namedropping. are you here not to give me shit but to ADVERTISE?
yeah. so i gotta go. i think AJAX is in the middle of experiencing a bloggable moment this very second.
well. thanks for stopping by.
one last thing. why ARE you living your life as if you know you're going to die at the end of the year?
... stop listening in on my phone calls.
get along, li'l dogie
i ripped this find off of someone who posted a comment recently at mostly meat
. i don't remember who it was. i hope this counts as giving credit where credit is due.
just a week ago, i was driving down the 5 in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night and it occurred to me that i'm happy. i am. happy. i. am. happy.
i came to the realization--lightning bolt into my brain realization--that the steps i've taken this year, thus far, have led me here. that maybe, for once and for the long haul, i'm doing it right.
i'm okay. i'm okay and i'm good and i'm happy.
so imagine my surprise when the opportunity for lifepath altering change was offered to me and it made me even happier. is it possible that i'm not old (whatever "old" means)? that it's never too late to travel cross country with nothing but your car, your pets, and your credit card debt?
out of the few who know the news, a minority have giggled and implied that i must've met a boy. they are the minority who don't know me well enough to know that while i'm in the frame of mind to do just that for a quality boy, that is not what this is about.
it's about living downtown in a city. it's about fire nights and italian festivals. it's about people in my life who feel like home. it's about trying the full circle thing out for a while and seeing how it fits. it's about replacing "rad" with "wicked". luxury apartments and dipping into savings and walking to the irish bar and making fun of people who have never seen the pacific. no time-delayed sporting events and traffic that makes sense. green trees hugging the freeways (sorry, highways
). driving up the coast and stopping at a roadside stand for october cider instead of april strawberries. people who associate their hometowns to strangers in terms of cities and towns, not the initials of counties. the newport clam chowder cookoff. snow. t.f. green. carrying a jacket, just in case.
it's about taking a friend up on her invitation, and ignoring the "what ifs".
fuck the what ifs. i'm ready to get going.
it'll be a long trip. san francisco, san diego, des moines, austin, new orleans, milwaukee, chicago, detroit, lexington, tampa bay, myrtle beach, washington d.c., quincy, philadelphia--put on your dancing shoes and keep your couches ready. you won't get much notice before i'm at your door.
p.s. take your allergy meds, 'cause the kids are coming with.
words to live by
a cantaloupe can be bigger than a lampshade, but you can't use a doorknob as a toaster.
i'm breakin' down and packin' up and goin' for a little drive. it's time. it's time for something else. even if that something else only serves to send me back to cali in a year or so. at least i'll know for sure whether the northeast is for me.
when you're itchy to take a big step, you can't be a big ol' pussy and ignore the set of stairs your trusted friend throws at your head.
i already have a solid lead on a waitress job at a diner. do i want to be a waitress? no. but it will help pay the bills while i get my shit together. and it may be perfect, because i hate the very idea of being a waitress so badly that i won't fall into any kind of apathetic inertia that might prevent me from actually finding a job that i want.
on saturday, me and B crashed a bachelor party. well, we were invited. it was much like a frat party, except it was in a hotel and there were some very drunk irishmen running about. then they got naked. that was funny for a minute.
then one of them humped B's leg. she put him in a choke hold and slammed him against the wall. (i guess they thought she was kidding when she said she was a cop?) that was funny, too.
then he started chasing me around the room, doing that weird helicopter thing that you guys think is so fucking funny, and singing a little ditty that went something like, "do you want to suck my cock, do you want to suck my cock, do you want to suck my cock." which was barely understandable through his slurred irish brogue.
that was funny, but also kinda scary, so we left. hotel security escorted us out. apparently we timed it just right, as the providence police were on their way to tell those boys to quiet the fuck down.
on our walk home, we raced a streetsweeper. i have the shin splints to prove it. i ran and ran but i was also laughing and laughing, so i had to fall down and catch my breath. streetsweepers are inherently funny. but what got me was when the driver kicked it into high gear to play along, and the engine made all sorts of high-rev racecar noises, but didn't visibly go any faster.
another hugh prather quote:
Last night Rusty pointed out waitress who was taking orders at the next table. He said that four years ago she was married, had a fourteen-year-old daughter, and worked for the school system. It was summer. She and her husband were having a drink at a bar. Her husband went to the rest room and while he was gone a man at the other end of the bar said, "Hi. Would you like to come with me to Mexico?"
On the spot she walked out. She lived with the man for three years in Guatemala. Even more unexpected than the story was the reaction at our table. We were all staring at the woman as if she were a heroine.
A time comes when you need to clean house. No, you need to go even further. You need to burn the house down with yourself inside it. Then you must walk from the fire and say, I have no name.
turns out, the spirit did move me.
i will be hitting the road in two to four weeks...
onto providence tomorrow. i haven't seen that city (boston, either, for that matter) in about six years.
the nostalgia has already kicked into high gear.
the two most significant relationships i've yet had were based out of rhode island.
i learned how to be twenty-one in providence (and wisconsin as well, don't want to leave out that fine state).
one of my very best friends lives there now. she has just moved into what she claims is a luxury apartment that she cannot afford. perhaps, if the spirit moves me, i will make plans to move in, too.
i may bring fred
. because she has a matching blue fred. i don't know though, about twenty-nine year old women carrying large stuffed animals onto planes.
a rhode island souvenir to the first person to crack the code below. contest starts at 8am tomorrow (june 4).
so yeah. norm from the groundbreaking first season of real world
(new york). and a very tiny version of nicole kidman behind his head.
and, of course, the pink sunglasses.
notes on love and courage
a few years ago, my local library had a sidewalk sale. there is nothing i love more than a 10-cent book, even if i know i'll never read it once i bring it home.
i picked up a few books, including one by hugh prather. i don't know a whole lot about mr. prather. i did a search once, and i think he's been embraced as a new-agey inspiration, possibly by the born-again crowd. it's not entirely clear to me. which is probably a good thing, because if i had seen this book in a rack marked "christian stuff", i might never have picked it up.
regardless, this particular book of mr. prather's ideas and quotes was an absolute steal at 10 cents. i've dog-eared a good many pages. when i bought it, there were little strips of green paper marking the last reader's favorite passages. i taped those mini bookmarks into their respective locations. sometimes it's interesting to see what another reader gravitates towards. the following are some of my gravitations.
There is another way to go through life besides
being pulled through it kicking and screaming.
I see no point in a marriage in which the overbalancing
effort is directed at getting the other person to behave.
If I feel "no", if my entire being is telling me "no",
then the only thing I can lose by saying "no" outloud
is clutter--just one less person who isn't really a
Yes there are other considerations. There is no end to
the considerations: feelings of the people involved,
your word, your commitments, the possible consequences.
But a time can come when there isn't much of you left,
and all you have is enough strength to act, just enough
to put an end to it by turning your back and walking out.
I keep wanting to use the word "wholeness," but that is
in fact what all this holiness lacks. It is not
complete. There is no falling-down-on-the-floor hilarity,
no sex, no spit, no anger. It is soft and beautiful and
sooner or later I crave something more. The question is
can one have both, both pain and caress, passion and
peace, humor and warmth. That's what I have not been
getting. There is something to be said for a fist in the
stomach. I wouldn't want it as a way of life; I could
never say, now, I want it now. It would have to be
unexpected, unplanned. When you've been without
wounds you know it; as in a dreamless sleep, you yearn
for at least one succubus, one grinning vampire in the
i love how i gave up on squawkbox yesterday, so installed new haloscan comments. then i love how today squawkbox came back online, so i gave them the benefit of the doubt. maybe they were upgrading blahdy blah over the long weekend. my faith was restored, but only momentarily. because what i really love is how squawkbox is down hard again right now. HARD. complete server denial.
so now i will repeat a conversation:
[on the road from frisco to our gay destination]
i'm totally incognito right now with you two straight girls in the car. anyone looking in the car might actually think i'm hetero.
well, yeah. normally it's a car full of guys.
that doesn't necessarily reek of homo.
it might be that it's a jetta. full of men wearing fashionable sunglasses and bearing very purposeful hair.
[laughing] very true.
and plus, you're not fooling anyone. we know your eyebrows don't just grow in that way.
so hand over the giant pink vegas sunglasses already.
i'd like to thank those that shared their sympathy regarding whatever it is that scared the crap out of me, then made me sad, by leaping into my windshield in the middle of the night. my mother was kind of sympathetic, but did little to make me feel better when she said, "you sure it wasn't a person? maybe you should see if any hit-and-runs have been reported."
i had a fantastic weekend. it was fantastic in and of itself, but it was definitely fantastic when it turned out that a gay resort town beat out vegas in being the perfect environment for the giant pink glasses. we even ran into norm
, from the first season of 'real world', and got him to wear the glasses. it was my first celebrity moment (pseudo though it may be), and photographs will follow.
guerneville, the town i visited, reminded me very much of places from my past. it was interesting, the memories brought on while simultaneously sussing out a brand new place. also, no cell service. weird.
my friend D commented thusly: "It seems you will go anywhere, at any time, with any level of preparation. This is a glorious trait." he may be right, because on friday morning i'm calling in sick and boarding a plane for boston. my final destination will be providence--a city i haven't seen in years but that i think of often.
a very good friend, B, put out a desperate call for company. if you knew B, you'd know this is a big deal. she's a girl who doesn't ask for help or support. ever. when we spoke yesterday, we were under the assumption that of course i would come out there, but probably in a month or so. time to prepare. time to find a cheap flight.
turns out taking a flight this weekend or taking a flight in six weeks (her next weekend off) was the same price. so i just clicked the 'buy' button. and off to BOS i will go.
all this last-minute travel, though, is taking considerable time away from my saturday drum lessons. i may have to take a little sabbatical from the sticks for now. because summer is, apparently, in full swing.
p.s. my hot water heater died sometime over the weekend. please come over and fix it. i will certainly make it worth your while.