Caterwauling

1. What is your favorite type of literature to read (magazine, newspaper, novels, nonfiction, poetry, etc.)?

In today’s high-speed world, I am most attracted to magazines and newspapers. But I will always love classic American literature the most.

2. What is your favorite novel?

The novel I visit time and again is Pat Conroy’s “The Prince of Tides.” I love the movie just as much, which is kind of rare for me — I usually love the books and hate the movies.

3. Do you have a favorite poem? (Share it!)

Honest to god, I hate poetry … unless I’ve written it. I have a poetry vault that I’ve neglected for years, and anyone who wants to see it, feel free to ask.

One poem I love, though, is Max Ehrman’s “Desiderata.” My favorite line is,

“You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees & the stars; you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. “

4. What is one thing you’ve always wanted to read, or wish you had more time to read?

I own every Anais Nin and Henry Miller novel ever written. I’ve read half of Anais’s and that’s about it. I really want the time and inclination to finish that literary journey … preferably as I’d be sitting in a cabana on a tropical island somewhere. …

5. What are you currently reading?

Management books and books that encourage me to start my own business. “Contented Cows Give Better Milk,” “Making a Living Without a Job,” “How to Lose Friends and Infuriate People,” “Blow a Bubble Not a Gasket: 101 Ways to Reduce Stress and Add Fun to Your Life,” etc. I keep meaning to pick up “One Minute Millionaire” from my Amazon.com Wish List, so that’s next.

Mr. Rogers has taken his final trolley ride to the land of make-believe.

It’s a sad day in my life. I’ll admit, he was my first crush. 🙂 Pittsburgh just won’t be the same without him.

So I can sweep the fucking place, too.

Gaaah, I hate my workplace more and more. Things due 14 days ago (from Kumquat) arrived today. He’s been very nice to me today (not surprisingly). I’m about to turn the pages into PDFs for electronic transmission, and I just got a bombshell that I have to present at a meeting at 2 p.m. I, not knowing how else to respond (and without being able to say, “Fuck y’all!”), burst into tears, right in the middle of the halllway. I haven’t prepared any info to present — fuck, I forgot about the meeting. Screw it — I ain’t showin’ up. I hate them all.

The Town Crier kicked off my day with a shitty comment to the effect of, “So, are you ready to take over?” The REASON I can’t take over the paper (officially) is due in large part to her fat ass and her fat mouth running around the building, telling everyone I’m going after the position too aggressively. Shit, they sure don’t mind me doing the work aggressively, now do they? I sent a snarky e-mail to Demure to say that I hope it counts in my favor that I haven’t been able to interview for the job because I’m too damn busy DOING the job.

Shan was regaled to doing Solitaire Queen’s job today, as Solitaire has called off for two weeks and shit has piled up to the sky, not that she was working on it when she WAS here. So there’s Shan, with her brilliant business mind, wasting away putting binders together for a meeting. Christ. We hate this place — I swear, today is the day we’re going to go postal. And Town Crier is goin’ down first — I had visions of shoving her glasses up her ass sideways. Heh.

As I haven’t gotten ’round to taking photos of today’s dumping of snow (it’s not bad right now, although I slid straight through a red light this morning on the way to the Veggie Patch. Gaah), here is the snow that fell a week and a half ago (that STILL hasn’t fully melted!).

Residents of my apartment complex ski to the bus stop

The view of a Sebring from my living room

My poor little Samantha shivering under 17-plus inches of snow,

and of course the snow from the other cars that was

mercilessly thrown behind her

Another seven inches of this shit will have fallen by late tomorrow. Wondrous.

I was rather pissed when I learned that the parents of the girl who died after two failed heart-lung transplants refused to donate her organs when her ventilator was turned off. (Link via Dave.) Apparently, the organs, although they didn’t work for her, were still healthy, and as a 17-year-old, the rest of her organs were most likely in perfect working order as well.

I could rant about my opinion of this family, smuggling themselves past the borders to get this operation that they didn’t pay for (while every day, 17 Americans die waiting for a transplant), but instead, I will direct my loyal fans to join me in signing up for LifeSharers, a non-profit network of organ/tissue donors. It’s fucking brilliant — you promise to donate your organs, and it automatically puts you a lil higher on the list when or if you yourself may need a transplant someday — if an organ will be donated by a LifeSharers member, and you’re in the member network, it’s like you shoot to the front of the line to see if you and the organs are a match. I’ve always believed that organ donation is a win-win situation anyway (although my family argues that doctors will work less hard to save you if you’re dying, so they can “steal” your organs), but finally, pledging organs can benefit us during our healthy days.

For those waiting for an incentive to become an organ donor, this is as good as it’s going to get, and it ain’t bad. All you do is print out your membership card and send the pre-written letter to your doctor and family. I don’t get on political causes, but social causes like this, especially when the solutions are so obvious yet so overlooked, are well worth the investment. 🙂

King Kumquat told Shan that she doesn’t have to go to our convention next month so that she can stay in the office and do eight billion other things. Shit! That means that not only do I have to go without her, but that unquestionably, J-Ho will be going in her place. Fuck!

Anybody want to go to Anaheim, Calif., next month? Room’s paid for (although you’d have to sleep with me, and believe me, there will ONLY be sleeping going on!), you’d just have to pick up airfare. I will absolutely DIE, spending 18-hour days for a week with the Idiot Savante Association, where I am the only non-medicated (and non-idiot savante) on board the Veggie Patch Express!

Shoot. Me. NOW!!!

Gaaaah, part deux

Just came back from the dentist. He said it’s a shame I have such a crappy dental plan, ’cause I have loads of damage from my old dentist to undo, as well as a bunch of shit my old dentist never noticed nor mentioned to me. Argh. As if the 18 X-Rays that they did on me today weren’t painful enough, but like I told them, it would’ve been more painful to have been at work that whole time. 😉

::Grumble.:: I hate being at work. Wasn’t I just here yesterday? I hear kids in the area might be switching to a four-day schoolweek. One can only hope that employers follow suit. I volunteer to work on the days when everyone is home with their kids (assuming, of course, I get another day off).

Nothing special today, just editing and sneaking out for a dental appointment. Here’s to hoping Demure gets locked in her office and stays the hell outta my way.

So many people around here are job-hunting, it’s pathetic. And the rest are ready to retire this coming fiscal year. Heh. I hope to be one of the castaways in the near future!

Today was one of those days that would have been better spent in bed. I’m serious — ’twas a total waste of an outfit and matching scandalous underwear.

Demure cornered me in the gas chamber … I mean, ladies’ room … to inquire about rescheduling my interview for the job. I’ve been working like a fucking manaic to get the stupid paper out, so when praytell will I have time for that? I kind of scoffed and grunted at her. No. 1, do NOT talk to me in the toily. I go in there to not be disturbed for three minutes. No. 2, do NOT insult me by making me interview for my own job, especially when said interview interferes in the completion of my job duties.

In better news, today was my grandfather’s 77th birthday. He was so very sad that I didn’t sneak up to Pittsburgh this weekend, but I just didn’t have it in me to make the trek. He truly thought I would surprise him by arriving unannounced, but I sent a bouquet of roses and balloons that actually made him cry.

He’d never received flowers before in his life, and he was thrilled. I’d chosen a patriotic bouquet, with red roses, baby’s breath, greenery and a huge cobalt blue bow — he loves telling stories from his days as a paratrooper in WWII, so it was only appropriate. He’s impossible to shop for, so I am glad he was happy. And I was happy, too, because I am hormonal and had to call and bitch out the florist for not making an appearance before 6:30 this evening (I’d called at 6:20 and had gone apeshit — the flowers were there 15 minutes later! I’d asked them how long they were planning to wait until I cattle-prodded them into delivering the flowers, when they were sure in a hell of a hurry to get that payment posted first thing this morning.)

Speaking of flowers, I’m still wondering who the hell sent me mine! They’re drying out very beautifully — I keep meaning to post a photo of them when they were in full bloom.

I’m so sad to see “Joe Millionaire” coming to an end. It was an okay finale, although they should’ve just stopped with the previous episode. Tonight’s was fairly anticlimactic. Slurpy Slutty Sarah was nowhere to be seen, but all the other girls were happy for Zora.

Well, off to edit my 52-page newspaper proof. Egads. If only I could win the lottery and get the hell out of my job and just be a freelance writer/party planner. I’d be so very happy — I’m so very tired of being too tired and jaded to see what beauty life truly holds. Someday, the black cloud will lift … hopefully, someday soon.

Happy birthday, Grampy. I love you and miss you every day. Hang on for me till I get to see you again.

Stuff like this makes me proud of my British heritage.

Props to the Brits for encouraging schools to teach prepubescents with raging hormones about the benefits of oral sex. w00t! Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a new generation of oral sex experts — I’ll bet THAT generation never has to go to war!!! Oral sex = much happiness for everyone involved.

Look, I don’t think it’s promoting underage sexual activity. Quite the contrary — just the thought of a pimply-faced boy (or girl) with a cowlick (in the hair, kids!) and braces is quite a disturbing visual, when pictured between one’s knees. Ick. That could very well damage kids to the point of never wanting to have sex ever, but that’s must MHO.

My public school system started teaching sex ed to us when we entered seventh grade (dykey gym teachers unite!), and it continued into high school. But it was from a clinical instead of practical standpoint. They told us about abstinence and HIV and syphillis, through ridiculous characters such as Captain Condom and Penny Penicillin. They used drawings and movies made in the 1970s to show us that the big bad penis gets hard and a girl ends up knocked up, never showing us how the jigsaw puzzles actually fit together (literally AND figuratively). It was ineffective, yet it was the best a fearful public school system, scared shitless by the out-of-control AIDS epidemic, could do without having the parents get together and sue them for corrupting our innocent minds.

My high school went on to have the highest teen pregnancy rate in our entire county, particularly in my graduating year of 1992. Did the sex ed work? Sure, for some of us. I experimented plenty in my early years, but I was out of high school before I actually rode the baloney pony. What schools need to do is teach the more emotional side of sex, and appeal to these walking hormones. Kids will do exactly the opposite of what you tell them to do; further, IF they can do something, they WILL do it, just because they can. Armed with this knowledge, appeal to them. Tell them that sure, he says he loves you now, but after you put out, he’s going to dump you for a different girl (or boy, in my case. LOL). Or vice versa. And that yes, you’ll be considered the town slut, because that’s how the rumors always go. And that’s when you slip in the data that will otherwise cause them to glaze over and sleep through health class. I don’t remember the sex ed as much as I remember all the rumors I heard around school.

I commend schools that have tried to teach kids how to apply condoms onto items found in the aisles of Fresh Fields. Hell, what about dental dams? Have you ever used one of those things? They’re scary when you don’t know what you’re doing! And finger condoms — why not? I’m not saying to bring feathers and flavored condoms to class (but be sure to suggest them for homework activities!), but I think it’s great to bring bananas, pitas, hot dogs, flowers, whatever the hell to class and let the students learn how to properly use protection. I was reading another blog where people were commenting about being disgusted about schools teaching sex and wanting to home-school their kids, and I have an even better solution. Let’s homo-school the kids! Nothin’ prevents pregnancy like similar features, eh?

Home-schooling — while I’m all in favor of it for a myriad of reasons — is all well and good, but in addition to teaching your kids about the traditional three Rs, you’d best be teaching them about what’s going on in their bodies and hearts (and fantasies). Are you comfortable enough to do that? Sure, nobody wants their kids to have sex, but, um, how did you get those kids, exactly? Unless the stork dropped them down the chimney, they’re gonna be doing stuff that will inevitably make you a grandparent, so instead of scaring them, work with them. Buy your daughter her first flannel shirt and work boots. Buy your son that spiked dog collar and his first techno CD (if that’s what they want, of course!). Give them options. The same people who want abortions to go away are the same people who would be mortified if their 16-year-old daughters were walking around in halter tops and bellies out to here. (Not that I suggest using abortions as birth control, BTW, although five minutes spent learning how to use a condom prevents that seven minutes of vacuum aspiration and the lifetime of guilt.) But let’s work together to assure that teen pregnancy is reduced, and while teaching the oral sex certainly isn’t THE answer, it’s a start.

Or, do what my mom did, and buy your daughter a vibrator for her 16th birthday. Who needs boys when you’ve got batteries? 😉 As for boys, well, the ones I knew were all blowing each other anyway!

For some reason, I feel like playing the Thunderpuss remix of Amber’s song “Sexual” …

Your Sexual Energy is Magenta!

You ooze passion and love, as well as a romantic sensuality.

Your strength is the intensity of your passion – it can last forever.

You can stay with the same lover for months, and every day still feels new.

You crave closeness – intimacy is your path to incredible sex.

Foreplay is your speciality – little whispers, touches, and kisses.

You have the ability to bring passion to any situation.

As for finding lovers, you usually don’t find yourself needing a lover.

Chances are that you’ve been with the same person for quite a while.

If you seek someone new, you usually date traditionally – until you find a spark.

Challenging your passionate approach to sexuality could spice things up.

Try having sex with someone you think is hot, although not “the one”

Seduce a complete stranger (or two) for some intense anonymous sex!

Magenta sexual energies include Jennifer Lopez and Jennifer Aniston.

For the best match, look for people with pink, red, and yellow sexual energies.

What Color is Your Sexual Energy?

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