Caterwauling

I mentioned this letter a few days ago. I wanted to share it with my readers, to show what idiocy still really exists in the world. Just for reference, this was in response to Pride Fag’s monthly columns wherein he manages to use the words “gay,” “sodomy” and “lesbians” fairly liberally. Misspellings retained in this letter to not protect the asinine.

“Dear Pride Fag:

 

I am so sorry that you would use your position as president of the Veggie Patch to advocate for practices that are bringing death and destruction to untold millions and their families throughout the world. The fact is that the homosexual lifestyle is a dangerous one on all counts — you can sanatize it, you can legalize it, you can pretend that it is “moral,” but you will not be able to overcome the bacteria and viruses introduced into the body through sodomy and anal sex. If you fantasize that somehow medical science and the taxpayers can cure the consequences of homosexual sex, you are quite foolish. You cannot separate the consequences from the behaviors. Please refrain from advocating practices that are killing 600 people a day in the nation of South Africa alone! Please do not wish these consequences on your membership. Thank you.”

— Dumbass Anonymous

I have been forbidden from printing it, but it could have made some good discussion among the newspaper’s very vocal, touchy-feely readers. In stranger news, though, the guy who responded isn’t even a subscriber to the paper!

I always assumed that I would end up in New York, but after making the transition from little-big-city Pittsburgh to much-bigger-city D.C., I realized that I am fine here, that I don’t need to be in huge-ass-city Manhattan.

NYC has had way more than its share of drama, and the recent blackout is no different. I’m still waiting for some of our northeastern bloggers to come back online, but in the meantime, I am grateful that, in our 95-degree weather here, we have functioning air conditioning.

Of course, most of the major news coverage is of New York, and not of Ohio, Michigan, Canada and the parts of New Jersey and Pennsylvania that were affected. But it’s reminiscent of 9/11 coverage — how often do retrospectives and tributes focus seemingly solely on the biggest disaster site and fail to mention the Somerset, Pa., and Pentagon casualties? Too damn many, that’s how many.

In the story I linked to above, some assclown of a deli owner was whining about having to throw out $2,000 worth of ice cream, yogurt and other perishables. Here’s a thought — why didn’t he donate it to all the stranded folks who were half an inch from heat stroke in their 90-degree weather? Y’know, there’s so much talk of a newfound human kindness in Manhattan, but that sure didn’t symbolize it.

I awoke this morning to news reports of subway trains being stopped under the rivers up in NYC, and people had to walk for miles (with all the friendly rats) until they could see the light of day again. And what about all those elevators in those massive buildings? I am so glad I don’t work in skyscrapers anymore — Pittsburgh had its share of massive buildings, and I worked on the 57th floor of USX Tower for awhile and on the 36th floor of PPG Place. Eeek.

I understand that, here in D.C., no building can be taller than the Capitol Building. That is a Good Thing, although I am claustrophobic and would just spontaneously combust, were I trapped in an elevator, no matter whether near the fourth or 40th floor of a building. I am thrilled to, after years of being a city girl, be living and working in the suburbs, where I drive to work and the buildings are as short as the bus my colleagues must have ridden to school as children. 🙂

1. How much time do you spend online each day?

Too much. I mostly do it at work, though, and when I come home, I check e-mail and go watch TV for a change of pace.

2. What is your browser homepage set to?

At work, the Washington Post. At home, to My Yahoo! But I actually set my first page to come up blank, so that I don’t have to wait for those pages to load unless I really want them to.

3. Do you use any instant messaging programs? If so, which one(s)?

Not a fan of instant messaging (thanks to all the porn spam that comes through if I haven’t filtered carefully enough). I rarely turn it on, but when I do, I use AOL instant messenger.

4. Where was your first webpage located?

Gosh. I don’t think it even exists anymore. But as far as this site, I started out at http://caterwauling.blogspot.com.

5. How long have you had your current website?

I guess since March 2002. I’ve since gone on to buy a few more domains, but I’m too incompetent lazy to develop them.

I dragged a bunch of shit to the dumpster at the old abode today, as the lease is up Saturday and I have a gaggle of stuff to either haul or heave.

But what never fails to amaze me is that, within a half hour of burying my treasure inside of or behind said dumpster, the shit’s gone … or, at least, it’s been gone through.

On Sunday, I must’ve chucked four dozen VHS tapes from 1984 to 1994. And they hit the bottom of the dumpster with a nice crash. Well, an hour later, as I brought out another load of shit, a great deal of my tapes were sitting on the chairs and the telephone stand that I had brought out there earlier. This means that someone had to jump into the dumpster to find my goodies. Are they nutz?!?! Was that taping of “Dead Poets Society” and miscellaneous episodes of “Ally McBeal,” “Melrose Place,” “90210,” “Knots Landing” and the like really worth immersing oneself in a bin full of roaches and other multi-legged wonders?!?!

At any rate, I didn’t leave a lot of good stuff out tonight, but I’m sure it’ll have disappeared by the time I go back tomorrow.

But enough about my crotch. 😉

That’s how I describe Northern Virginia weather lately. It’s always overcast, of late, and it’s pointless to labor to wash one’s car when Mother Nature is gonna rag all over it for you.

Last night, I took Tiff to the Springfield area to pick up her temperamental but still beloved vehicle, and as I was a stone’s throw from the mall, I journeyed to Linens & Things and to Boutique Tarzhay for some household goodies. I was careful to only pick up the items I needed, which threw me into bankruptcy anyway. But I have Swiffer and trashcans and shelving and cat food, so life is grand.

This morning, I was in the mood for some toast. So I went ripping and tearing through multiple kitchen boxes, unpacking them as I went. The toaster was in the third box, but by then, I was tired and cranky and smellin’ kinda funky, so I showered and never did make that fucking toast. But Mom had sent a little loaf of her famous banana bread yesterday, and I happily had a slice on my way out the door.

I took the trash down to the sub-basement this morning — a scary voyage at best. I was greeted by the stench of unembalmed corpses and by a welcome wagon of waterbugs. Yeeaacccchh. The trash room also doubles as the laundry facility, but something tells me I will just have to keep buying more clothes so that I do not have to wash the old ones in that godforsaken pit.

Well, I awakened to a big steaming pile of poop in the bathtub this morning. Conventional wisdom dictates that when your day starts off with a discovery of shit, you can pretty much tell what the rest of your day will be like. 🙂

I’ve consumed much coffee and Mountain Dew to keep me alive today. My little blogworld is pretty quiet, and that’s probably for the best, as last night was a long one for many of us.

Have not seen/heard from Shan in a couple of days. That can’t be a good sign. I finally left a message for her husband to check in with me with a quick update. Of course, he, like Shan, is on the hated Sprint network and won’t probably get the message till Christmas.

I spoke to my own hated cell phone company today. Seems that AT&T canceled my recurring credit card months ago because my billing address didn’t match my credit card’s billing address (I transitioned to a P.O. Box). So nobody told me that the credit card number was kicked out of the system, and as I have paperless billing, I didn’t know of any past due amounts (and I rarely check my credit card activity because it’s solely used for recurring debts such as web hosting and cell usage). Well, seems I owe them three months of payments. Wasn’t that cute? I don’t even have half of it, so they took $75 and promised to get the rest next month, when the next bill rolls around. This should be fun, trying to have enough credit available for that remaining $150 plus the new charges. E. Gads.

And in Veggie Patch headlines, some dipshit keeps writing to me (and copying it all over creation) to publish a correction to a story she submitted that I ran in the May issue. Back in April, she clearly submitted the story under her own byline, and I made it clear that I needed the specific author information (i.e., that she’s a grad student at some university). So, since the pub date, I have been treated to biweekly demands from her that I tell the world that the article was really written by a merry band of fools, not just her. (Not to mention, she keeps sending me e-mails from someone else’s account, so I have been confused from the beginning and struggled to set the record straight that the owner of the e-mail account was not, in fact, the story’s author. But now the claim comes that the e-mail box owner is, in fact, ONE of MANY authors.)

Let me tell you, after the aggravation of editing that article, I owe her no more time. My personal editorial policy dictates that, when I screw up, I owe the readership an immediate correction. But this chickie seems to think that because I didn’t know that she wasn’t the only author, I must claim that the newspaper erred and thus must assuage some hurt egos. I keep deleting her messages, but bitch won’t go away. Will someone just go shoot her for me?

In good news, Demure is out, so I was not subjected to my weekly stupervision meeting. Hallelujah!

Expect no coherence from me tonight, kids. I’m piss drunk from a lovely dinner for nine at Shawn’s casa.

I just can’t believe Paul and Bryan asked me to drive them home — I am toasted. We’re all lucky that I got them — and me — home alive.

Now to smoke my last cigarette and crawl into bed. Or maybe fix another drink or 10. 😉 But I’m a very good drunk driver — the alcohol calms my nerves so that I’m not wigged out whilst driving I-395. I should drink before I commute more often!!!

We had much discussion about romantic relationships (not about mine — shit, I can’t even think about my sordid past). But while sometimes we all feel defective when we’ve been cheated on, dumped or otherwise remained in “singles” mode for far too long, we have to realize that, in fact, we rock … and if folks are too fucking stupid to realize it, it’s their loss.

Now stop me before I go drunken-dialing. … 😉

Rejected title: More hospital madness

I can’t believe I forgot to record this, but then again, like I know which end is up anymore!

When I went to the hospital on Saturday, there was a young kid working the admissions desk. I went behind his desk to go wash my hands, and I could swear he was looking at porn — big, wet black booties, if you get my drift. But after a second, it’s like he knew I hadn’t moved, so he toggled to a Yahoo! search page.

So I washed my hands, came out, and saw booties and boobies again! I must’ve gasped, ’cause that Yahoo! page came up immediately to cover it. Heh. What a dumbass, sitting out there in the open like that. Hell, I don’t even look at porn in my enclosed little office! 😉

I swear, after reading really shitty submissions from the many Veggie Patch offshoot divisions, I have to support Shawn’s wish that the Pulitzer Prize Committee gave out awards for editing. Somebody remove the Exacto knife from my jugular, please!

Cruise Director here at Club Medicated wants me to get Shan’s passwords and the keys to her files. Heh. Good luck. Sister ain’t picking up her phone, not that she ever wanted our screwy colleagues nosing through her stuff more than they already do. They’ve already accessed her voice mail, and let’s just say that I know I left two messages for her bitching about the place. Heh again.

I’m liking having a new employee. Leaves me more time for blog-reading. w00t!

Rejected title: I see London, I see France

Guess who forgot to zip up her skirt this morning? Hope everyone at the Veggie Patch enjoyed looking at my leopard underwear for the past three hours! 😉