Caterwauling

It’s not *really* name-calling:

Anyway, now that I’ve got your attention (and can call you my bitches and ‘hos. Ha!), it’ll be Carnival of the Recipes weekend here at Chez Caterwauling. (Check out this week’s Roadtrip edition over at Booklore.)

Please post your recipes to your Web site and submit the URL (or the recipes themselves — I can format for you) to recipe.carnival AT gmail DOT com by noon Central on Saturday.

In honor of the Fourth of July, we will have a “Fireworks” theme. Think spicy, think summery, think what you’d serve at a party!

So goes my life. Enh. Tomorrow’s a new day. But until then, Reader Poll Monday questions!

1. Would you rather eat ONLY Syrian food or ONLY Mexican food for the rest of your life?
Crud, I’d go Indian. But in this case, Mexican.

2. What’s the meanest thing you’ve ever done?
I have to insert the disclaimer that I don’t normally do mean things on my own behalf. I might wish for karma to catch up to someone, but outright being an asshole is a waste of my energy.

However, that said. …

I think it was when I agreed to help someone stalk their ex, I applied for a job at his workplace and under “Have you been convicted of any crimes?” I wrote, “Not under this name.” This before I managed to sneak into his building and leave various STD-related pamphlets under his door. And I’m not even going to talk about how I got his new phone number (back then — I couldn’t give two shits now). I have always been, uh, *resourceful* at finding people’s whereabouts. And dating a cop never hurt anybody. 😉

But anyways, the proverbial “they” say that if you want to fly, you’ve got to soar with the eagles, and that the company you keep reflects you. God, the dumb shit I did back then. It’s amazing how much more enjoyable life is when you’re surrounded by better people — it’s cheesy, but I really do aspire to be the person they think I am.

3. Did you see a movie this weekend? If so, what?
Nah, I’m waiting for “The Devil Wears Prada.”

4. What’s the most recent CD you purchased?
Blue October. I didn’t do the CD but rather a bunch of MP3s from various releases. I can’t explain my obsession with it, but I recommend it. I’d start with “Calling You,” if you’re so inclined.

5. If 12 hot Blogger girls put their heads together and made a calendar, would you buy it?
Probably not.

6. Where did you go on your last vacation?
Uh. … Define “vacation.” Because if not for work trips, I’d never get out of this city. But if I can just not screw up my budget, I am definitely beach-bound later in the season.

7. What defines summer in your world?
Street fairs and festivals. Italian ice. Funnel cake. It used to be grilling on the balcony, but I can’t do that here so the grill sits very lonely right now. Oh, and of course having the A/C turned down to “frostbite” so I can still sleep with my comforter.

8. What time did you get up this morning?
4 a.m. Fucking cats. Life became more enjoyable when it was a “humans-only” zone when I closed the door to the felines.

9. If you could be interviewed on any talk show, which one would you want to be on?
No doubt, “Best Week Ever.”

10. How many hours a day are you actually WORKING at work?
I’d say I work seven or eight hours; it’s just oftentimes spread out over 10 or 12.

Like all D.C. denziens, I suffer from what I call “D.C. Ennui.” But it’s sort of a misnomer, because it’s not that we’re bored with our city but, rather, that we’re so over the traffic and the tourists that we dislike going to events because of the layer of aggravation that tends to enshroud them.

Now, you know we all hate tourons, but sometimes I think the worst offenders are the ones who carry a driver’s license from the metro area. And it’s high time for me to break out of my comfort zone — sometimes I feel like I can maneuver Manhattan better than the city that gleefully accepts my taxes.

Now that I’m in the city proper, I realize that spending the weekends in the suburbs is just stupid when I’m literally two Metro stops from, oh, everything. That said, yesterday turned out to be sunny and hot (the weather had called for rain. Bah!), so we wandered down to the National Barbecue Battle.

Best. Sign. Ever.

The weird part is that I had more sun(burn) than BBQ. We wandered Pennsylvania Avenue freely, as it was closed between 9th & 14th. The city smelled of spicy sauces, burning charcoal and firewood — a welcome change from the usual just, I don’t know, combo of corruption, sewage and body odor. 🙂

There weren’t that many participants in said Battle, and nothing really appealed to me. We wandered for awhile and decided to get in what I called the “Line Ride” (obscure “South Park” reference) for the Safeway tent, as it was an hour and a half to get to the front of it. But Safeway had claimed a space the length of a city block, and there was an endless bounty of food samples, coupons and other takeaway items.

Here’s a concept: nuts in D.C. Shocker!

Mr. Peanut Lost Its Shoe While Dancing to ‘Promiscuous’

My only complaint was about the idiot family behind us. The father kept reading shit and whacking me in the back with whatever he was struggling to comprehend, and at some point he put up his umbrella and dinged me in the head a couple of times. He was a treasure compared to his kid, who kept stepping on the backs of my flip-flops and running ahead of me in line, whining about the wait and just plain acting like an obnoxious brat.

Too bad I was too stuffed from the Safeway Experience to even try any ribs, but I’m not complaining about an inexpensive day out in the sun with lots of scenery, and I ain’t talking about the monuments. 😉 Nothin’ wrong with sneaking a glance around at good-looking, half-dressed people. Nothin’ wrong with that at all. …

But at the other end of the spectrum, the thought of photographing people snarfing down food as though they were to be shipped off to Ethiopia is too gross even for me to commemorate, but I thought these were appropriate to capture, given the location:

Dubya’s Ride

Dubya’s Other Ride

And just for giggles, this is of one of the fountains in front of the National Archives:

In Which I Almost Dropped the Camera Into Said Fountain

Ripple

Originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn.

I was out joyriding when I came across this oasis, and since I have a new camera and all (I can catch up on car payments NEXT month! ha!), I thought it was a beautiful place to break my new Nikon’s cherry.

The waters were so still, and I have dozens of other photos like this in which you can’t actually tell that it’s half-reflection, so I put my fingers in the water so that you can see the ripple in the water and get the idea of infinity.

This shot was taken from the boathouse, where the sidewalks are deceivingly even and if you’re not looking, you might fall on your ass. Not sayin’ I did, just giving you a helpful tip if you ever go there. As for me, this was a one-time trip because now that I’ve posted a place where I’ve been, I can’t go back. Unless it’s to dispose of a body, so don’t fuck with me, ’cause you know where you’ll end up! 😉

It’s not that I’m not a happy or even quasi-optimistic person, but I guess I need the mental equivalent of a power wash on my psyche. Anything to make me stop questioning not why the bad things happen, but if the good things can possibly be anything other than transient.

There are days when I’m bummed at feeling like life is suffocating the will straight out of my soul, and there are other days in which I’m continually looking over my shoulder, like things are OK — but what’s looming that’s intent on destroying it? I pray for change at every turn, and I want “the dream” more than anyone else I’ve ever known.

Things have to change. They’re — I’m — broken and I’m not pretending to be fine anymore. Denial shouldn’t be someone’s strong suit. Neither should pretense. I worry when those I genuinely want to attract (and keep) realize that this is as good as it gets sometimes. This is *my* healthy for now, but it’s all I’ve got. I’ve always wanted people to fall in love with my potential, but I need for them to see me — to know me — now. To give me that safe place to simply just be.

From Slate:

But to the man whose hand or arm she is holding, she is not “average.” She is the whole world to him.

Sunlight is something I don’t get enough of, truly and hypothetically, and I bask in it when I see it. I am grateful for it and even though I have to push it out of my world way too soon and entirely too often, I dance in it, even if only in my mind. But I know it’s out there, waiting for me to enter into it so that it can envelop me and illuminate the path I’m meant to be on.

A baby crying in its crib doesn’t want conversation or a gold ring. He wants to be picked up, held, and patted. Adults need that physical contact also. They need to cuddle together for warmth and comfort in an indifferent or cold world. At least, they need to be able to do that.

That said, I know I’m sort of on the right track — at least, I’m in the neighborhood. Acknowledging the road is the first step for me. Realizing that it’s going to be a “Long Way to Happy” is the second step. But happy is out there — I’ve got the TripTik. And maybe it’s less of a hike than I think, but now I’m finally focused on a destination.

Here’s the song by Pink to complement this convoluted entry:

OK, as it’s past 6 p.m. and I *just* remembered to heat up my lunch, I figure I need a brain (and, thus, BLOG) break.

So. *tapping foot* When do you do it? How do you do it? Or should you not do it at all?

No, sillies, I’m not talking about it. (The answer being “as soon as possible” to THAT question!) What I mean is when do you reveal your dirty little secret that …

*gasp*

… you’re a blogger?

When you, oh I don’t know, meet someone new — someone you’d like to, gee let’s ponder this for a second, IMPRESS — are you upfront that you have a crazy page where you spew verbal dysentery on a regular basis? Or do you just skip that part of “I like long walks on the beach and cuddling and puppies and sunshine and rainbows and OH YEAH I keep a page where I share my personal vitriol with all the world!”?

Just because I splay my heart on this page doesn’t mean I want to immediately hand over said heart to someone who walks into my life. I share more than I should here and there ain’t no WAY to keep any mystery alive in a relationship when they can refer back to this page when they’re wondering “WTF was she thinking?!?!” when I go off on one of my assorted tangents.

And that’s the thing — you CAN go off on tangents when you think no one’s looking. But if they’re going to find your page eventually, well, you can’t exactly talk about them. 😉 Unless you’re complimenting anything regarding size and prowess (I would actually be bragging, if I were so inclined to share! *mwah!*), it’s best not to mention nothin’ without express permission. But to get said permission, one must ‘fess up to the blog addiction.

So anyway, I was just wondering how y’all share your sites with people (romantic interests, family, friends, colleagues, employers — anyone who might find it so you might as well own up to it anyway in the first place)? Is it like a third-date thing or can you shelve it for awhile longer?

My beloved webhost seemingly pooped the bed about 24 hours ago, but I am back and I’ve got bitching to do. w00t!

I’ve had enough of random acts of stupidity in the past day to last me a lifetime, which means it’s probably good that I’ve not had access to this site, or else I’d be in heaps of trouble. So, *whew*, the crap has passed and we now return to our regularly scheduled navel-gazing.

I went to Best Buy last night as it was closing to exchange a camera. I had the 6.2 megapixel Nikon in black, which I loved. But as it runs on AA batteries, it takes 40 photos and craps out. Which is fine if you’re not at an event or anything, but when you’re as incompetent a shutterbug as I am, you tend to need 40 tries to get one good shot.

I wanted the Nikon 8 megapixel in black, but BBY only sells it online. So, I got the silver one. I do like it, but once you go black (har de har harr). …

Anyway, it was a PITA and the Geek Squad gave me shit because I returned everything except the batteries that came with it. The hell?!?! The reason I was returning the thing was because I wanted an NiMH battery — I swear to God, I’ve gone through eight sets of batteries and have nothing to show for it other than a lot of aggression because I had to rip the batteries out of other *ahem* household appliances. Grrr!

So I finally do the exchange, and the counter boy said I needed to show my driver’s license. And I refused to take it out of my wallet. I said I’d hold it up from three feet away but that’s the best I can do. He asked, “Bad photo?” and I said, “That ain’t the half of it.”

So when he saw the photo, he made a really ugly face and said, “Oh. You weren’t joking, were you?”

LOL. Smartass! I rather preferred his honesty, though. But I did tell him I’d be back in the store to upgrade the camera again, so please get that black Nikon from your online warehouse portal so I can come back and annoy him and pay him back for that driver’s license comment, as well as his suggestion to charge me $20 because I didn’t bring the dead batteries back to restock the camera with. Ha!

Going to the DMV is supposed to be a production. I get that. But what I don’t understand is how I’ve been there FIVE times and my car still isn’t registered in D.C. It’s not registered anywhere — my Virginia tags have expired and THAT’s adding a whole ‘nother layer of unparalleled rapture.

I hate how these gubmint employees treat you like shit on a shoe, when you know in your heart and mind that your IQ would dwarf theirs on any other given day. Just not the day that you need their disdain-filled help. Bastiges.

Before I rant at length, I want to introduce you to a spoof site of the D.C. DMV. Dig it:

As of February 10, 1890 all residents from Virginia must bring additional documents in order to obtain a DC drivers license or identification card.

To obtain a DC driver’s license, you will need three (4) items from the primary list, eight (8) items from the secondary list, and provide ten (10) proofs of current residence in DC.

Those items can include: Recent Whole Foods receipt, Recent O Street Giant receipt, Recent DC Police report, Recent GW Hospital statement and/or Sad, dull, and uninspired facial expressions.

While I’m at it, I could also use the Anti-Dubya plate. That is, assuming I can ever GET the fucking car registered!

Read the rest of this entry »

No, I’m not talking about the next target of the cosmic Greyhound bus (although I can see the parallel). What I am talking about is something that qualifies to take my Flying Toasters screensaver out of heavy rotation.

Courtesy of D2, Georgie. If he gets stuck, just throw him at will with your cursor. Tres therapeutic!

So I had this dream the other night. A good one. Not like the nightmare I had last night in which my workplace turned into a scene from “Nine to Five” in which I was assigned to protect the Dabney Coleman character and act as his decoy. *shudder* The horror! No, I had a good dream. A dream dream.

In my slumber, I saw someone I met very recently. Someone I rather liked and thought maybe-more-than-a-little-bit about. Someone I wouldn’t normally have had the balls to approach.

The dream sequence was pretty clear, meeting up, hanging out, time passing and then crossing paths again. In the dream, I remember hoping that he’d talk to me the second time around. I figured that if we didn’t find a reason to bump into each other, well hell, maybe we’d end up in the same place again someday. Maybe.

The thing about my dreams? I am completely in control of them. And I somehow thought to myself, “Hey dumbass, don’t lose this one. Don’t count on fate to figure this out for you. He’s a boy — he has no idea what you’re thinking.”

And in the dream, I looked at him. And I thought, hey, what’s the worst that can happen? That he’ll tell me to go away? That he’ll laugh? That it will make for an awkward moment? Big whoopin’ deal. Seriously.

“But think of what you’ll be missing out on if you don’t,” my dream inner voice told me.

Perhaps it was because I knew I was dreaming, but I took the chance. And all I know is that I wasn’t disappointed in my decision. At all.

And as such, I decided to apply my newfound rediscovered set of balls in “real life.”

To be continued. …