Caterwauling

Angie and I had a culturally inappropriate conversation today, based on my wish to find a hot European man. I was telling her how tiresome it is to continually be hit on by people I would never find attractive — that I studied French and want to learn Italian because those are the cultures that appeal to me aesthetically (and they’re quite the romance languages). I was joking that I keep waiting for some hot Italian semen seaman to sail up the Potomac River on his gondola, and if he’s looking for someplace to park his boat, I pointed to my crotch and said, “Here’s your port of call, right here, baby.”

She swore I must have said that before; it came out too quickly. I really hadn’t, but I said it sounded like a blog entry in the making.

So there you have it. 🙂

On iTunes: Jane Siberry, “The Life is the Red Wagon”

I am not going to talk about the article I mentioned in the last entry, but I do have to laugh. Angie asked me for an e-mail I had from an interviewee who wanted to talk about people who survive torture. So I ran a search for “torture” in my e-mail box, and within a second, 17 different e-mails appeared from Shan, Scot and Princess Fatass. Seems torture is a hot topic ’round here — enough to be in our daily vernacular! Maybe I should write the story about surviving torture — I do it every day!

On iTunes: Tobey Lightman, “Devils and Angels”

Got a freelance story (that I didn’t commission) from someone who used to work at my very magazine. I see that years in journalism did nothing for her copy-editing and accuracy abilities — I am on paragraph three and have been on the Internet four times to verify facts and names. Painful, yes. Typical of a columnist, not a journalist, though. My head aches.

But how am I supposed to read past this paragraph? (Note: everything changed to protect the criminally insane.)

When asked if there is a connection between (happiness) and (taking a shit), (Lardass) leaves no room for doubt. “Absolutely,” he says, empathically.

I count five things wrong. In one fucking sentence.

In her e-mail containing the story, she remarked on something that drove her “bazurk.” No, I do not make this shit up!

And people wonder why I’m on the verge of going postal.

On iTunes: Pulp, “Like a Friend”