Caterwauling

But enough about the workplace. lol. I hate it. I know it could be worse (i.e., I could have Shan’s job, and I don’t care if she does make several thousands of dollars more than me, it ain’t worth it to serve as Kumquat’s chief ass-wiper. And she’s deathly sick right now and is heading for a breakdown if things don’t change soon.

In other hellish news, Demure called a meeting with me tomorrow to “check in.” Cripes, it hasn’t even been a full week since the big Dawn-bashing fiesta — what possibly could I have accomplished since then?

I’m sure my readers won’t be surprised that I’m behind with my monthly stories. lol. I just don’t care anymore. As usual. I had gotten a brilliant head-start before that stupid Veggie Patch Gazette Summit last Tuesday, and after that, my enthusiasm died right there in that conference room. My stories were on the path to excellence — now they’re on the train tracks to hell. My heart hurts. And today was a complete waste of a decent outfit. 🙂 I updated my resume again today — time to start shopping myself out as a freelancer! My five-year-old iMac is dying and is begging to be replaced, only computers ain’t cheap.

I had a weird flash in my mind the other day that the cruise director here at Club Medicated was going to offer me the editor’s job. Eventually. Not right away though — I’m cheap labor right now, and they’re going to milk that for as long as they can. But I did get an intimation that they might send J-Ho (my predecessor, who now makes $40K-$50K/year doing special freelance projects for Kumquat) to the convention next month to help me. Oh fucking goody. Like Shan and I say, Shoot Me Now!!!

Yesterday, eight stores in my old county sold liquor for the first time on a Sunday, which brought about protests, if you can believe it. Strangely, the loudest protestors were the employees of these stores themselves.

Quotes that are begging for a response, taken from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette:

“I think, personally, we should go back to having nothing open on Sundays and having to spend time with your family,” said Charles Windsor of Mt. Lebanon, who was protesting Sunday sales outside the store on Wharton Street on the South Side.

So for those of us who shop on Sundays and who have no family within a 300-mile radius, no drinky drinky for us, per this asshole. Thank god all the grocery stores in Virginia sell liquor!

Sidenote: Shouldn’t he have been at home with his family instead of protesting the liquor store being open for five hours?

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At the edge of the shopping center’s parking lot, however, about 30 people were protesting Sunday sales, holding signs that said “Promoting Drinking Without Thinking” and “Sunday Liquor Sales, Monday Mourning.”

Honey, no matter what day of the week I drink alcohol, I still mourn the coming of Monday. And drinking without thinking is the purpose of my very existence.

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The protesters, most of whom are liquor store employees, said they are concerned that increased opportunities to purchase alcohol will result in increased opportunities for underage youths to buy and consume beverages and increased casualties in alcohol-related traffic accidents. They also had a problem with being asked to work on Sunday.

So, they don’t check IDs on Sundays because they’re pissed off at having to work?

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Anthony Vizzoca of Shaler, whose uncle is the head of (the Independent State Store Union), held a sign asking drivers to honk if they agreed with the protesters. Several drivers did beep on their way by, warming Vizzoca’s heart on a cold day. “This shouldn’t be a city of sin,” he said.

And his heart grew three sizes that day.

Sin? In Pittsburgh? LMFAO. Honey, there ain’t nothin’ else to do there but drink! I keep telling my mom she should just get a job at the state store — maybe we’d get a bulk discount. 🙂

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And then there was Mark Henry, who doesn’t work at a liquor store but heard about the protest on television. He showed up with copies of a handwritten letter he had written when the state Legislature was considering the bill.

“Dear Senator,” it begins, “Suppose you’re Osama bin Laden. What would you want the Pennsylvania General Assembly to do with regard to the issue of opening liquor stores on Sundays? Would you want it to kowtow to, and compromise with, the forces of evil so that our respect for the Christian Sabbath day is further undermined in the name of ‘consumer convenience?'”

I’m sure bin Laden is disappointed in Pittsburghers for buying peach schnapps by the unit. Just because they’re selling booze and not turbans doesn’t mean that he gives a rat’s ass, now does he? And asking what he wants the PA General Assembly to do is just begging for a response — I would imagine he’d want them to blow themselves up before shutting down the liquor stores. 🙂 This asshole is probably against the war effort too — maybe he’ll handwrite another letter about that. Oh goody!

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And finally. …

The protest was organized by members of the Independent State Store Union, which represents managers. “We’re in the business of the control and sale of alcohol,” said Don Brown, one of the leaders. “Selling alcohol seven days a week, that’s not something that I consider control.”

Yet all the bars and restaurants that serve food — and therefore liquor — on Sundays, as well as their patrons, are just rip-roaring heretics, eh? Somebody, give these guys a cocktail!!!

Girls, I’m ready to give back my ovaries if it means that I will never have to step into another shopping mall or grocery store again.

I thought I’d take my miserable little temporary raise and wander around Landmark Mall for a few hours. And other than the people running their strollers over my feet, I had a perfectly delightful time. I bought an outfit at Old Navy for when/if I get a date for Valentine’s Day (I bought jewelry for V-Day last year — and I did wear it, even though I bought my two close girlfriends dinner that day b/c my so-called boyfriend was sitting at home, pretending there was nothing special about that particular Thursday). I might return the skirt, though, and get the money back. But the shirt is cute and totally a keeper, even though it’s pink. I hate pink, but with my coloring, I have to wear those summer shades. 🙂 And at least the shirt was on sale — I was proud of myself because I used my knack for matching colors and found the items on opposite ends of the sales floor.

But then I tried to drive out to Shopper’s Club down the street (and the Dollar Store, and Ross’s, etc.). That half-mile drive was painful. I swear, driving down here is like mortal combat — I can’t relax too much because someone’s always about to cut you off, rear-end you or just piss you off. I almost got into a fistfight with a guy in an SUV because he jumped out from behind me and nearly knocked me off the road when he tried to get in front of me. I was honking and yelling and swearing, and hell if he didn’t pull up beside me to harass me. I was boiling and almost threw a dozen eggs at him, but I decided to just let him go because he probably had a gun, with my luck. There was another guy who cut me off and I almost slammed into him (as I was being tailgated at the time, so I was flying up the road). My dear Samantha has wonderful brakes. God love her.

Speaking of that dozen eggs, Shopper’s Club was sheer, unbridled HELL. Let’s forget the fact that 40 percent of its patrons use deodorant. Let’s forget the fact that I had a migraine and couldn’t stand people’s voices. Let’s talk about my full-fledged panic attack in the produce aisle. Heh. I had four people with carts literally up my ass, but I couldn’t go anywhere because the aisle was littered with moms and kids and buggies, and even though they saw me, they wouldn’t move. When I finally tried to move up a few inches, some little brat jumped in front of me and stood there. I almost ran the little fucker over with my buggy. His mom looked at me like, “What’s wrong with you?” and I guess in her culture, my wanting to ram a cart up a child’s ass doesn’t concern his parents. Finally, I freaked and said, “I can’t take this anymore!” and the aisle parted like the Red Sea. Call me Moses. I swear, I am going to use that the next time I can’t get through an aisle. Granted, people were staring at me like I was a freak, but that certainly wasn’t a first, and it definitely won’t be the last time.

I vow to never return to Shopper’s Club for three reasons: 1. The location, because it took me half an hour just to get out of the damn lot. 2. The fact that when you bag your own groceries, there are people ahead of you who are taking their time, and there are people behind you who are smacking you in the back with their carts as you throw your goods into your bags at warp speed. And finally, 3. You can’t take your cart to your car, so when you shop alone like I do, you have to take every last blessed bag with you to your car, which is inevitably in the next lot over.

I usually only take $30 to the store and get my necessities with it, which yields one or two bags. No problem to lug those across Creation. But today, in an attempt to eat out less, I spent double that on items that will stock my cabinets for at least the next month. So I forgot that I couldn’t take the cart with me, so when I got outside, I had to unload the buggy and attempt to carry everything, but I had eight thousand foreign families lining the sidewalks, waiting for someone to bring a car around, so I had to walk on the street and nearly get killed. And then when I finally made it to my car (with no major casualties other than that I’ve lost feeling in my left arm), I had to refrain from hitting people who decided to block the road so that they could load groceries. Argh. This, my friends, might be one of the many reasons why I want to get married already — it would be nice to have another person to help me to carry my bags! 🙂

I felt rather alone today. I missed my mom. I should’ve called but I didn’t charge my cell phone. I also realized how much I hate being single. Please, please tell me that I don’t have to suffer through 10 more years (or longer!) of this solitary life until I meet somebody quasi-normal. Not to mention that the biological clock is going to start ticking in six years. Ugh. Snooze alarm!!!

But I vow, if ever I should ever give birth, somewhere in the far-away future, I will never, ever take my child(ren) out in public until said offspring is/are at least old enough to stay quiet, to carry items and to not get into nice people’s ways. Oncce people become parents, they seem to tune out their kids’ shrieking, leaving the rest of us with ruptured eardrums from six stores away in the mall. Trust me when I say this, my kids will have pacifiers until they are 10 years old.

At least Godiva ice cream was on sale. 🙂 So I guess I have something for which I can be grateful on this cold little Sunday. And as I am never going to the store again, I guess I’ll have to make these groceries last!

I decided to treat myself to a movie today, “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days”, at the AMC out in Springfield Mall. View the trailer here. If you want to learn how to lose a guy in 48 hours, however, save yourself the $9 and just read my blog for free! 😉

The movie was, for lack of a better word, formulaic. I suppose I would have enjoyed it if I weren’t surrounded by couples (including a male couple to my right). Gag. But I’ll probably buy it when it comes out on video, I hate to admit it. It’s not that I enjoyed it that much, though — but I do have to give it its due as a fucking adorable date movie or as something you watch just before you decide to kill yourself on your webcam.

Perhaps the most interesting part of the movie was the fact that a blind couple and their daughter were in front of me. After the movie, they snapped open their fold-away white canes and tapped their way out of the aisle. I hope they got in free — seems a waste of money to go to the theater, but hey, what do I know? 🙂 More power to them if they could keep all six dozen characters straight without seeing them.

The movie was cute, I guess. It just kind of irked me that the whole mission of Kate Hudson’s character was to do every annoying thing that girls do that drives men away. I’ve found that either withholding sex or simply breathing can get rid of them faster than you can say “commitment.” I mean, she was doing all kinds of cutesy baby-talk, nicknaming his penis a very girly name, being clingy and needy, calling his mother, Photoshopping what their kids would look like and adding teddy bears and feminine hygiene products to his apartment. And he still stuck around. I won’t spoil it as to why he puts up with it, but no man would stand for any of that.

Hell, I can’t even keep guys around, and I am not the clingy move-in-with-you-immediately type. The last guy I scared off was horrified when I asked him to drive to Pittsburgh with me after we’d had an incredible first date (and weeks of talking online and on the phone) just for the ride, and he was terrified of what meeting my family might mean (even though my family is as non-traditionalist as possible — Mom wants me to get laid! She encourages it!). So he ran screaming into that gentle good night. I was just looking for a weekend delight (and I thought it would be a good way to get to interact with each other, talking during the drive — as well as an excuse to stay in a great hotel), but he thought it meant wedding bells or something. Cripes — don’t these guys listen to me when I say I’d like to date and then see what happens?!?! He is the reason I am never sleeping with anyone on the first date again. Damn it. (Well, actually, G3 is the reason for that, but at least I enjoyed the other guy!).

The last guy before him whom I really liked (Brat) was easy to scare off because I actually cared about him and gave him little gifts and cards and thought about him a lot and actually expressed how much I cared. But it was the guys in the middle (CTL, 42 Boy, JP, etc. etc.) over whom I didn’t fuss, and those were the ones who were addicted to me. Unbelievable! So, yes, while I hate to play games, I know to either be — or simply act — uninterested in the future. Because, per many males’ codes, showing that you care usually is the first reason why they dump you — they are afraid you want to get serious.

I was reading a certain someone’s personal ad today. He’s changed the text to read something to the effect that if you want romance and a great relationship, he’s your guy. Heh. And maybe it’s just that he didn’t want to do the romance-and-relationship thing with me, but I had to restrain myself from e-mailing the personals site and telling them to beware of false advertising. 🙂 At any rate, I really tried to play the game with him — when he came back and started chatting with me again, I was truly busy and distracted and unavailable. Per my friends, that’s what keeps a guy interested, but in his case, it didn’t. I guess he’d rather spend his nights with his left hand than with me. lol. No bother to me, though — I think I’m getting carpal tunnel syndrome anyway from my own mouse and vibrator use, so I have no problem having no wrist action most nights. 🙂

So much for the movie review I intended to give. lol. I’m going to watch “Unfaithful” and go to bed.

I am simply list-o-riffic today. 🙂 I think my “American Idol” post was much more interesting, though.

1. What did you have for breakfast this morning? If you didn’t have breakfast, why not?

No breakfast. Lost power last night, woke up late, cleaned seven inches of snow off the car, arrived at work after 10 a.m. — after being detoured and having to get my tiny little sports car off of a fucking snowdrift.

2. What’s your favorite cereal?

I don’t eat cereal. It’s rather difficult when you’re allergic to milk.

3. How often do you eat out? Do you want that to change?

More often than I should, but it’s rarely at “nice” places anymore. I bought an Entertainment Book so that I could go to better restaurants than Popeye’s and Mickey D’s, but it’s kinda pointless when it’s just me, and the book offers 2-for-1 deals.

4. What do you plan on having for dinner tonight? Got a recipe for that?

I was thinking of cyanide patties. I’ll get the recipe off the ‘Net.

5. What’s your favorite restaurant? Why?

In Pittsburgh, Alexander’s Pasta Express made the best basil chicken eggplant pesto on earth. I haven’t found a favorite restaurant down here in Northern Virginia yet. But anyone who wants to take me out can feel free to pick wherever we go, and then maybe I’ll develop my new favorite. 😉

Quiz link via Dave:

YOU BEAT OLD LADIES FOR PILLS!!!

what’s YOUR deepest secret?
brought to you by Quizilla

The 32 finalists were asked a series of questions on the website, and because I have the musical ability of a frog, I will never be able to answer these questions for the show. But for my own amusement, I will answer them here:

Do you have a job?

I s’pose you can call it that. I am a writer/editor/doormat/chewtoy for a D.C. area association.

Do you have any formal singing training?

I am shower-trained, and one can argue that I should remain there and only there. Actually, come to think of it, I did spend a year in a junior high chorus.

Where have you performed before?

Leapin’ lizards! I did “Annie” and “The Wizard of Oz” in seventh grade.

When did you first start to sing?

As a wee lass, Mom had these great records for us to sing along to. I was all about my soundtracks for “Cabbage Patch Kids,” “Strawberry Shortcake” and “The Muppets.” On any given day, you might find me humming “The Rainbow Connection.” We also listened to a lot of country back then (Reba, Dolly, Emmylou, etc.), as well as all the stuff that’s now on the easy-listening stations (Peabo Bryson, Michael McDonald, Patti LaBelle, Dr. Hook. etc.).

Also as a wee lass, my grandfather was a singer and guitarist in a country-and-western band, so he would whip out the guitar and have me sing along. He would teach me his original songs and tape me on our brand-new cassette player/recorder, just before we started throwing out the old eight-tracks. The quality of those tapes sucked, regardless of my lil pipsqueak voice. I just wish I had those songs and those tapes today — I always thought my grandfather should’ve been a star.

What is your favorite song to sing?

“The Weakness in Me” by Joan Armatrading.

What is the first concert you went to?

Bon Jovi, baby! Saw them every year that they toured, but I will be missing them when they come to D.C. on March 9 due to financial constraints. I am so very bummed about that.

What is the last concert you went to?

Matchbox Twenty.

What other talents do you have?

I am a genius as public relations and event planning and fund-raising for nonprofit entities, if I say so myself. While I write non-fiction for a living, my fictional stories aren’t too bad. I can also write sappy and bitter poetry when the mood strikes, as well. I have good business sense and am a veritable idea generator.

If you don’t make it on AMERICAN IDOL, what will you do?

I’ll make it in another field, don’t you worry. 😉

What are your goals in life?

To work for myself. To make enough money to live in the manner and in the type of home in which I will be happiest. To be surrounded by people whom I love and who love me. To not have to watch my back or watch my step every second of the day. To improve my appearance so that I can improve how I feel inside. To not throttle people who would so richly deserve it.

What album would your friends be surprised you own?

My collection is diverse — alternative to folk to trance to techno to hair metal to classic rock. Perhaps people would be shocked to hear that I kept an old Cabbage Patch Kids song that goes … “Cabbages, cabbbages, yum yum yum. Cabbages, cabbages … gimme some! Cabbage for my dinner, cabbage for my snack. Cabbages all the time …. cabbages for Cabbage Jack.” ROFL

What is the first CD you ever bought?

Ah, this is aimed at the younger crowd. For this pushing-29 gal, I can chronicle this a bit more extensively:

First eight-track: Donna Summer

First LP: Michael Jackson, Blondie and the “Grease 2” soundtrack

First cassette: Bon Jovi, Def Leppard and Dokken

First CD: Warrant and Trixter

What is in your CD player right now?

In my bedroom, a Bon Jovi import.

In the living room, Melissa Etheridge and k.d. lang.

In the car, a techno CD I burned with remixes of Madonna, BT, Amber, AK1200 and D.J. Sammy.

Who is your AMERICAN IDOL?

Jon Bon Jovi. He was a small-town kid who made it big, and I’ve followed him since 1984, and he really hasn’t changed much at all. He still makes great music, seems like a great father and husband, and has gone after his dreams and continues to do so. He seems to evolve with the times and didn’t get caught up in the whole rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle, so he’ll be around for a long time to come, I hope.

What is your favorite type of music?

Rock ‘n’ roll, baby! All genres of it.

What is your favorite song?

“Rest Stop” by Matchbox Twenty. Or maybe “Elsewhere” by Sarah McLachlan. Or “Thunder Road” by Bruce Springsteen. Or “Cry” by Faith Hill. Or “Hella Good” by No Doubt. Or “Ain’t Even Done with the Night” by John Mellencamp. Or “I Take You with Me” by Melissa Etheridge. Or “Summerfling” by k.d. lang. Or “What it Feels Like for a Girl (Remix)” by Madonna. Or “Gravel” by Ani DiFranco. I swear, it totally depends on the occasion.

Favorite male pop artist?

Rob Thomas.

Favorite female pop artist?

Ani DiFranco.

Favorite album?

The “Great Expectations” soundtrack.

Who in the music world do you think your style is most like?

Oscar the Grouch? lol. Maybe Melissa Etheridge — that deep, passionate angsty type. I can’t sing worth a shit, but I can belt it out like she does, when I want to. 🙂

Most embarrassing moment?

Where shall I begin? lol. I don’t get embarrassed, even though I do stupid things. Like when I first hooked up with G3, he went to pull off my underwear but I was wearing holey granny panties and he started to pull them down by the holes. That was slightly mortifying, but I got over it. Heh.

If you couldn’t sing, which talent would you most like to have?

I’ve always wanted to be a dancer, but too many late-night threesomes with Ben & Jerry have prevented that from EVER being a possibility.

What has been your proudest moment in life so far?

Um. Well. Isn’t this special? Hmm. I guess getting the paper out on time at work, even though Kumquat shredded me over nitpicky shit. Fuck him — I did a great job!

What is your definition of an AMERICAN IDOL?

I would imagine that the judges would define it as a fresh-faced trendsetter, but I would think of it as someone to whom young gals and guys can admire as a positive role model. And as an American Idol, I promise to work for world peace and to let everyone know that it’s OK to eat cake and not be a size four, that the real beauty is within and that you can’t have an intelligent conversation with a hungry person who consumes more peroxide than burgers in a year.

Why do you want to be an AMERICAN IDOL?

I am fairly happy with myself — flaws and all — and I would love for people to see me having the time of my life and enjoying success and know that if I can make my dreams come true, so can they. And I would love to help them in some way — I love to network and to lend a hand when I can!

Do you think the audition process was fair?

I suppose, although some really great talent got away and some interesting folks seem to have made it so far. But hell, even if they were slashed, some record exec will pick them up and make them a celebrity in no time.

Who is your favorite judge and why?

Paula, because she was nutz enough to get Botox injections right before Tuesday night’s live show. She looked like Mick Jagger! Although Simon was a pissy little bitch, and I thoroughly enjoyed his snarkiness.

Who is your least favorite judge and why?

Randy. We should just call him Wishwash.

What advice do you have for other hopefuls?

Eat cake.

What would people be surprised to learn about you?

That I own more vibrators than there are days in the week. Wait, that’s no shocker! 😉

Who did you think was going to win last season?

Didn’t watch.

If you could be a performer from any era, which would you choose and why?

Oh, I would totally perform in the early- to mid-1980s in a hair band. I would’ve been dying to perform with Bon Jovi and Winger and Motley Crue and the like. Or, I would go with the mid- to-late-1990s and perform on the Lilith Fair, although I’ve met men who were less hairy and scary than some of the women I met there. …

Yes, I was a fan of the wack-tacular Jacko in ’84, and although my musical taste has way evolved, I was hooked on ABC’s documentary about him tonight. Leslie e-mailed from Ireland a few days ago to tell me about how fucking bizarre it was, so of course I had to see it when it hit the States. Sheesh.

I don’t know about the child endangerment/molestation suspicions. I mean, yeah, I won’t sleep with anyone below the age of 26, but that’s a story for another blog entry. 😉 But although allowing kids into his bed for slumber parties is just fucked up in general, it really seems like he regresses in his mind, so that if he’s with 8-year-olds, he acts like an 8-year-old himself. But damn, he got defensive about it, so one can only wonder.

As far as his own kids, they’re so cute. And so white. Wow. Just like Daddy, I s’pose. I just don’t get nicknaming the youngest one “Blanket” — perhaps he should have given him a different name than he gave the first boy? I mean, who needs two sons named Prince Michael? And “Blanket” is just plain stupid — I’d at least call him “Linus,” if you want to go with a bedsheet kind of theme. 🙂

At any rate, if any kids should be sleeping with him, it should be his own, and even then, I’m not a big fan of children sleeping with their parents.

I’d like to see the eight months of footage made into a full-length movie. I was strangely fascinated and equally disturbed — even so much that I missed the first part of “E.R.” just to watch this trainwreck of a T.V. special.

During the show, I took down my Xmas tree. Hey, anytime before V-Day is a world record for me — I usually wait till Presidents’ Day. Note to self: if I ever want to ruin a French manicure again, go play with the Xmas tree. My nails look like shit now.

Maddie is too damned smart for words. When I was taking down the tree and trying to tame its wild branches so I could shove it into its box, tons of its fake needles were hitting the floor. Her little toybox was next to the tree (it’s a red wagon — too cute — full of catnip-treated toys), and she decided to come and bop her little neon football out of the wagon and right into the pile of tree droppings. Heh. She’s been chewing on that tree for two months — I knew she really wanted to get to those green needles somehow. Clever little kitty, that one. I’m proud of her, even though I wanted to kick her furry ass. 🙂

I have battery acid coursing through my veins.

I am so disturbed about how much I hate working for a living that I am starting to just hate myself in general. The job, while mildly annoying, isn’t bad — it’s just the same shit, different company. I am tired of being a slave to the profession — X plus Y will always equal Z unless I learn to change the variables. Mismanagement plus my great talent will always equal an unfulfilling working experience. And that unfortunately bleeds straight into my personal life — I don’t exercise, I eat terribly and I don’t have the energy to crawl out of my rut that happens to be in front of the television. I need to remove that X variable and replace mismanagement with working for myself; Y can equal persistence, hard work and talent; and then Z will equal the ability to pay bills and enjoy life. The benefit plan will include me taking care of my body for perhaps the first time in my life, which will definitely increase my happiness tenfold, possibly more.

I don’t think I’m going to blog again today. I am behind in my work and need to actually focus on it. (damn!) That, and I’m lying face-down in a river of unhappiness right now, and it’s just not worth recording it for posterity.

I was prepared to be disgusted with tonight’s results, but that Julia made it over Kimberly, I was really excited. I thought the two of them would be the finalists from tonight’s show, but when it came down to a choice between the two, I was stressing. I know, I was influenced by the catty bullshit from two episodes ago, but let’s put that aside for a minute. Do we really need another peroxide-dyed starlet? I think we need some more brunettes out there, and Julia’s look is more exotic.

Although, I had to give Kimberly a lot of credit when she came out and sang a wonderful Melissa Etheridge tune, “Come to My Window,” (which Melissa does waaay better, but of course I am biased. lol) and she brought the whole gaggle-o-contestants onto the stage. She threw herself into it and made sure everyone had a last shining moment onstage, and I really developed a soft spot for her. For the first time, I really viewed her as genuine. At any rate, I would like to see J.D. and herself picked as “wild card” contestants to return to the show later in the season.