Caterwauling

At this time last year, I was fresh off seeing The Eras Tour in Miami and packing my bags to attend again in New Orleans.

That boggled my mind so much.

The expense, for starters. The fact that good things were happening.

The single/travel life I’d always wanted was now here. But, at such a terrible cost.

Going through a bit of the same now, as another trip I’ve been planning forever is imminent.

This isn’t just two nights. This isn’t just a time zone change. This is literal insanity.

Depending on some potential changes, it’s three to five flights. It’s theme parks, tours, concerts, parties and movies. All tickets purchased. All days planned.

The only thing that’s up in the air is my health.

I get sick every time I travel. Maybe because I run myself ragged. Maybe because the permanent snowflakes out there think it’s cute to vomit-cough on people and things we people are about to touch.

I used to run myself ragged prepping for a trip. Mom didn’t like that. She believed in staying home, getting ready leisurely, packing intentionally, not taking any chances.

This time, all my shopping and prepping is done. I even have empty suitcases in my trunk, ready to be packed when it’s time. (Damn elevator outage.)

But.

I have things to attend just about every day leading up to my departure.

I’m so worried that I’ll contract cooties before the trip. Which is why I’m loath to extend the trip. I mean, I CAN (what is money, anyway?) … but between the lead-up to the trip and the main trip itself … how will my health hold up?

Can’t get a covid booster because, Florida. But I do have Dayquil, NyQuil, zinc, echinacea, cough drops, Mucinex, magnesium booties and epsom salt booties. Now to remember to pack, I dunno, actual shoes.

Also, not for nothing but I am still bewildered that people just DO this.

They pick a destination. Buy event tickets. Buy food. Do it, eat it, enjoy it and do it again.

It’s not that I don’t feel I deserve it. But … it’s hard to get accustomed to having good things and not waiting for the universe to realize I’ve found joy and find an immediate way to counter it.

I do forget that I am a lucky person. Charmed. Blessed. Protected. Loved. Abundance is my birthright. JOY is my birthright.

So is the ability to pay off that platinum card, right?

Well that depends whether I leave tomorrow’s event in my own car or in the back of a squad car. Film at 11. Or never.

Now I see why Momma stayed home till a trip started. Too much risk out there!

I was intentional earlier today in my choice to only write about Ophelia, my would-be daughter’s name.

It didn’t serve my story to talk about Ophelia’s would-be brother, Darius.

Well.

I’ve been watching Halloween movies near-nonstop. And I’ve particularly enjoyed one of the “Haunted Mansion” variants.

Which … the Muppets one is the tits.

But the 2023 one with Tiffany Haddish is definitely my second favorite.

In that one, they make a passing mention of “God winks.” When someone from the Region Beyond (where they are at peace) sends a sign saying hi only to you.

For main character Ben, it was a neighborhood cat named Tater Tot. Big wink from his late wife.

For me, I was trying to buy an adorable Oogie Boogie sweatshirt. But it was Ross and I was 27th in line and there was one lady cashier.

I got up to the front, finally. When a male cashier opened up a new register and called me over.

Darius was the name on his tag.

I’d had another wink earlier. Was in the store next door, looking for a specific shirt in a specific size because my fat ass had bought one at another store in that chain in a smaller size.

Didn’t find the shirt (and let’s face it, the Oogie Boogie one will get more wear) … but a song came on the radio.

And all us women started dancing like we were dressed as frogs at a No Kings rally.

It was a song Momma had sung to me my whole life.

Funny enough, I had my hand on a shirt she absolutely would have asked me to buy for her.

That was a Ghost Wink with both eyelids.

My new cat sitter came over Friday. I told her, my Momma sent you. She was telling me all about her squirrel, Minnie, who loves sunflower seeds.

I went to my cabinet and got her brand-new sunflower kernels and said my Mom wants Minnie to have these. And I want photos of her mixed in with proof-of-life pics of my cats.

I seem to remember a psychic telling Mom that she saw someone on the other side, holding a baby she had lost.

I wonder if, somewhere, my Mom is on the other side with the D&O that were supposed to be mine, once upon that happily ever after time.

Once upon a long long time ago …

Lived a boy and girl, best friends.

Till a million tears in the fabric of the invisible string between them collapsed.

No I don’t write like that. I never did. But man, that felt weirdly good to type out!

I had listened to “The Fate of Ophelia” about eleventy trillion times since it was released two weeks (!) ago before it hit me.

That a friend and I had always talked about having a daughter named Ophelia.

I was in the car after a very stressful weekend of car repairs — one tire exploded … I bought a new tire … then on the same day, a truck on Sawgrass unloaded a bunch of wooden bricks that I ran over … and I now had TWO FLAT TIRES, including the one I had bought earlier.

And as I drove around looking for a place to inflate those TWO tires enough to get them to Tire Kingdom on Commercial Boulevard in Fort Lauderdale …

I started cackling maniacally.

Me. With a daughter. Named Ophelia. Was my teenage dream.

Good lord, someone go hug that girl.

Don’t get me wrong. I expected to be a famous author/journalist first. Then retire to an island and have a baby who I could watch growing up because I had enough money in the bank to do that.

The guy, I’ve written about here before. I don’t say much because some things are just sacred.

But I know I wrote about how he told my mom he can’t hear Bon Jovi without thinking of me.

Taylor Swift was born while we were still friends, but I’m sure he has no idea I’m such a superfan that I went to The Eras Tour four times.

Including one year ago today, in Miami!

He never listened to any bands that made it into the 1990s, let alone through them. So I don’t really associate anything on the radio with him.

But I know he had to have heard “The Fate of Ophelia.”

Does he remember those two kids who put that fantasy together, to have a little girl with that name?

Anyway, my cackling was really just at me. Also I was stressed the absolute hell out.

Which was a problem for us. I definitely said and did whatever I pleased. And that didn’t end well for me with him.

In any event, I hope he can smile and even laugh when he hears the song.

And, like me, move on and, as Taylor sang in “Opalite,” “mess up before and mess up again.”

Everyone, listen up.

The first rule of Fight Club is that if you need us on a Friday, NO YOU DON’T.

Someone who I very much try not to engage with, opted to engage with us on Friday afternoon.

Like, my whole team got caught in an absolute volcano of inanity.

You know how some meetings could have been an email? This entire Teams eruption should have been a meeting.

I commend my staff for not reaching through the screen and squelching the misinformation with their bare hands.

Also the fact that I got cc’d into it meant I wasn’t doing anything more valuable with that time.

Mis/dis information seems to be the theme of the week.

I have been watching all the MAGAs either claim Taylor Swift as their own or try to burn her at the stake over the new album.

Either way, the bullshit is breathtaking.

Speaking of bullshit, or lack thereof, my social media cleanse has been most beneficial.

I normally would have posted that C’s favorite play, “Jagged Little Pill,” is coming to the Broward Center. And then sat back to watch an absolute litany of insults about myself because of it.

Perhaps she’ll be simply be happy with the writing prompt and retweet old insults instead of retyping them.

Either way, ain’t none of my business. And I love it that way.

Day 3 of no elevator. Though they put a chair on each floor for … decoration?

I haven’t left the house. No reason to. Have enough kitty litter and food to last till year-end.

But I do have a guest coming by Friday. I was basically like yeah you can walk up the stairs and I’ll see you up here.

I do have a couple of trips planned during the outage.

My current plan is to haul my empty suitcases to my trunk and just lug my packing cubes and whatnot as I pack them.

As for hauling the shit back up five floors, oh who knows. Details!

I certainly tried to get all my online orders done and here before the great elevator outage. Rather, the only planned outage.

Alas, FedEx, Amazon and Etsy each have one Christmas ornament in their possessions that haven’t gotten here yet.

I didn’t want them to run up the steps, and they may not.

I gotta say, the elevator outage is great. I almost ordered from Levain, Georgetown Bakery, Fat Witch and Max Brenner. I mean, it’s Halloween and all. And I’m a fat girl who likes pumpkin and chocolate.

Alas, it’s not that I’ve saved a fortune in three days. But, I’ve saved a fortune in three days.

Trying not to book another trip instead. But I did get invited to an investor event for some biotech I got myself mixed up with. So … another trip?!

The new cat sitter is either going to kill me or not show up at this rate.

Gave way too much thought of the passed-on podcaster of it all this weekend.

I have always believed it’s an inside job/sacrifice.

And anyone who might even have some inkling that I would celebrate that, doesn’t know me.

I certainly appreciated the irony. Liked some tweets that said it better than I could.

I also took those accounts private/offline last week.

Not for THAT reason. For the reason that I am tired of people having access to me who don’t need to have that access.

This all only put a slammer at the end of that sentence, where I’d put a period only days earlier.

I tend to fight in the comments when I care. I fight a lot about this topic. I hate that “the right” blames it on “the left.”

I hate that “the right” celebrates OUR pain at having our First Amendment rights trampled on at having a reaction that wasn’t a river cried.

I hate that they are all dancing the Electric Slide hearing that Joe Biden is undergoing aggressive chemotherapy. That a female judge’s house burned to the ground after ruling against trump. That a female reporter was zip-tied and tossed around like a trash bag by ICE.

I hate that they aren’t the ones facing some sort of consequences for their actions, when people who hit a like or a retweet button are getting doxxed and deported.

Some joker picked a fight with me in the comments yesterday. He said every leftist he knows celebrated the killing.

I said I highly doubt that. And how did you react to Biden’s news?

He said, and I quote, the Dems are responsible for that killing and every death in America.

I said you know what causes death? Being fired. Being economically unstable. Being depressed because your identity was exposed and destroyed for … what? Saying wow how ironic that situation was.

So, Sparky, YOUR party is responsible for the gun violence. YOUR party is the one sending death threats and bullets and bombs in the direction of MY party.

And I’m only IN my party because I don’t want to be associated with YOUR party. And you feel I deserve a special level of hell for the box I checked on a form when I was 18.

A real president would take down the temperature of the country.

A real Congress would unite to rein in someone who thinks Habeas Corpus is someone who works for Kristi Noem.

A real judiciary would say hey remember when Jimmy Carter couldn’t have his peanut farm? No you can’t build a hotel on the Gaza strip or take billions from crypto investors.

And the fact that people like me are literally sitting around counting our assets just in case of emergency is not a country where any of us should stand for a song or kneel for a flag.

Not until it’s fixed.

So, I do want justice for the podcaster. It was too professional a hit. I want that sniper to sit in jail. I want the Epstein enablers/abusers to sit in jail. I want everyone who took a life purposely to sit in jail.

Not Luigi. Give a girl an exception here.

And I want us to be able to talk about it without chopping off each other’s heads and/or will to live.

I watched the “Lilith Fair: Building a Mystery” documentary on Hulu just now.

The one that Sarah McLachlan skipped the party for, to stand in solidarity with Jimmy Kimmel. And she was the first musical guest when he was back on the air.

I bought tickets for Mom and me to go every time the Lilith Fair hit Pittsburgh.

Even today, I am wearing the “oral sex” ring I bought her there. I bought one for me too but it’s too big and it’s lost to the ages in a house of cats.

I feel particularly blessed to have that connection to Momma still. And that I got to attend the Lilith Fair and the Eras Tour 4x each.

As a woman, I’ve never felt safer or more celebrated anywhere else.

I saw that Sarah is touring again. She has toured a bunch of times but never comes to Florida.

I also saw that she’s going to a venue I love up north. I watched Ticketmaster for several days, seeing the tickets dwindle away.

When they were down to one last seat at my preferred venue, I held my breath and dropped $250 to sell out the show.

I probably didn’t spend that in four years of buying two tickets in the late ’90s.

This was probably FOMO after having bought a ticket to see Melissa Etheridge and the Indigo Girls at the Ryman on 10/5 but accidentally sold that ticket.

The venue where I have my Sarah ticket to, I believe it was among those who received a bomb threat when my favorite (trans) artist played there.

Fortunately there have been no incidents on that tour. But I feel bad for the artist. It seems like her health has been iffy throughout. No goddamn wonder.

But that artist just added a bunch of tour dates … including MIAMI.

I can at least say I saw her when tickets were $50. Because I am pretty sure I paid more than I did for Sarah McLachlan for my new seat.

Anyway, about those bomb threats …

There’s a segment in the Lilith Fair documentary where all the antiabortion protesters/Jerry Falwell started demonizing the festival.

People protested en masse and called in bomb threats. Over Planned Parenthood having a tent in the festival area.

I make a monthly recurring donation to Planned Parenthood now. And I’m damn proud of it.

Isn’t it funny how it’s the “right” that promotes violence?

Life begins in the womb. So let’s bomb you for handing out condoms to prevent that womb from ever being filled with the blessed fruit (loops)?

Also, a trans artist has made her way from backwoods Florida to headlining a world tour. That bothers you? WHO HURT YOU?!

Go pick some berries since all those jobs the immigrants were supposedly taken are wide open now that they’ve been deported to third countries.

All any of us have ever wanted was for everyone to have personal and economic freedom.

Watching the Lilith Fair documentary was a reminder we’ve been nothing but gaslit for generations about that.

It was interesting that they included a clip of Kid Rock calling Monica Lewinsky a hoe. And the Woodstock crowd telling Sheryl Crow to show them her tits.

Just goes to show that the alt-reich was looking for voices for their generation, too.

I always believed we were quieter, but mightier.

I hope that prevails.

And for an hour-ish on Hulu, I got that hope back again.

Got my ass hauled to the principal’s office last night.

Apparently it’s not nice to call a white supremacist podcaster a white supremacist podcaster.

The talk was basically, “You do you. But maybe consider not doing you on this one.”

I said I’ve always appreciated that the company has looked the other way when it comes to my mouth.

I feel so sorry for good people who have lost their livelihoods over someone who should have gotten the same media coverage as the 29 people who died in school shootings so far in 2025.

I did ask who brought it up. Thrice it was said, “It was brought to me.”

I already know the answer. It’s someone who, in regular conversations, shares their support of Elon and policies that have directly hurt people I know in D.C.

Since I’m “marked safe” for now from the Charlie Twerp nonsense, I had to ask why he’s the dealbreaker for so many employers.

Like, I say Fuck ICE every five minutes, but one comment about this guy is sponge worthy?

Also, why are cities being mandated to name streets after him or lose funding?

Why is it OK that people who are perceived (wrongly) to be excited about it are losing their jobs over retweets … and the other side is allowed to excited about THAT?

I won’t get into the answers as I don’t wholly agree with them.

But I also disagreed verbally, as I am no longer one to sit and ruminate quietly.

In any event, I appreciate that free speech still exists in my world.

And I’ll go make a donation to the ACLU once I hit the publish button. Since too many good people weren’t so fortunate

Now that guy, i might smile about someday.

I’ve been able to ignore trolls for months and years on end.

I normally don’t announce it. I just check out and enjoy my life.

And when a message somehow makes its way to me, I just mark it as spam and move on.

It is “Actually Romantic” how many of you will create fake email addresses and get burner phones with new numbers to:

A) see what I’m up to and
B) use those as an Ouija board to reach me.

With this Harvest Moon, you’re all dead to me.

Don’t come back on Day of the Dead.

Ain’t nobody here got you on their ofrenda.

I was just talking with someone about “Charli” — who will go post a screed about how she doesn’t talk to anyone about me.

Yet the Venn diagram of people who like/comment on her posts and who also follow me — that I’ve had to block on multiple platforms — is a goddamn circle.

Anyway, I was saying how free I feel. And how she’ll still be combing my blog for hints that I’m thinking about her.

And she’ll be going back and re-reading all my posts to see how I edited them.

Hint: I JUST EDITED ONE OF THOSE POSTS MUAHAHAHAHHAAHHAH.

I imagine they’re twitching and aching for my attention while I’m just over here feeling UNBURDENED for the first time in a long time.

I admit, I wanted to see them heal. I figured it would happen eventually.

But it seems this hope made me as delusional as them.

Adios, pendejos.