Caterwauling

Too twisted for color TV inside my head right now, but can’t let this opportunity slide to get some old-fashioned venting out of my system lest I take it out on the people who really deserve to get pimp-slapped for their stupidity:

* Iowa primaries: Damn it, damn it, damn it. My Hillary needs to make a strong showing in New Hampshire. And I need to figure out where the fuck my voter registration card is and whether I can still vote at the same place.

* Tigers eating people at zoos: Stop tormenting the tigers, poking the penguins, etc. All you assholes who keep jabbing me with a stick repeatedly are lucky that I don’t pounce and rid the world of dumbassery, one pain-in-the-ass at a time. I feel bad that they had to put down the tiger who attacked — I understand that once it has the taste of human blood, it will probably want more. But still, you put wild animals in a semi-partioned area and you don’t think instinct is going to take over eventually?

* That’s goddess with a small ‘g’ today: I’ve never doubted my ability to run the empire. But I’m so worn down by the metric shitload of distractions that I’m staring at the mountain and wondering why I didn’t turn out like those who just put in their time and can leave it all behind when the clock strikes five. And is it too late to become like that, or would this tiger go apeshit after 10 minutes with that mentality?

* The gym I wanted to join is sort of expensive: As if I didn’t have enough excuses. But it’s either therapy or the gym — I feel like goddamned Jamiroquai in the “Virtual Insanity” video. The walls are closing in from all sides and I want to hide in a really big hat. I’d say I want to sleep all day, but guess who’s battling insomnia again?

* Can my cats just crap inside the box, just once? And stop overturning all the trash cans in the house to look for food? Fat little fuckers act like they don’t get fed. Sheesh. Maddie will literally chomp on the cookie, sammich or whatever you have in your hand. Is there a kitty gym membership, too? Because THAT I’d be glad to pay for!

I really don’t take the New Year’s resolution business seriously. The way I see it, I spent so many New Year’s Eves drunk and chain-smoking that the debauchery continued well into Jan. 1, so that was hardly a recipe for starting the new year with a clean slate.

Instead, I look at the new year as starting sometime on or around Feb. 1, to give me a month to commit a year’s worth of heresy so that I can get it out of my system.

I attempted to eat healthily yesterday, but fuck it — there’s always tomorrow. 😉

My lone resolution, as it were, was to find workout wear. Which I did. I never said I was actually resolving to work out in it. 😉 I’m good till next year on that one, thanks!

My resolutions tend to happen upon me in January. Apparently it’s the year of making enemies, as I made three in the past two days. Which, a friend pointed out was a huge achievement because I made enemies in two different years but in the same week. How awesome is that?!?!

People: beware. If you’re going to do battle with me, I suggest you acquaint yourself with the fact that you are going to LOSE. I rarely fight back, but I sure as hell am collecting facts and evidence in the interim for when the day comes that I need it. Reminder: I said somewhere on this page before that 2008 is the Year of the Good Guys Winning for a Change. And we will. Damn it.

I’m already behind at work and we’ve only been back a day. I am feeling burned out from getting no real rest over the holidays and of busting my ass when normal people were probably taking off of work. I feel like I had no psychological or physical break between the years, and here it is Jan. 3 and I’m still exhausted from last year. And the pressure’s 10 times as high as it was before the clock struck midnight on Dec. 31.

But alas, the flipping of the calendar wasn’t all for naught. I sort of had one of those blinding flashes of the obvious the other day when I was talking to one of my friends. I don’t share much personal info, believe it or not. The most anyone knows about me is on this blog but even that is a whole lot of nothing, most of the time.

But I was kind of musing about why the universe put certain people in my life and why we seem to keep traveling the same roads but it’s like those roads are parallel — there’s some element of convergence here and there, but I thought the roads were designed to lead me TO these folks so why the hell aren’t our paths officially crossing?

And then I thought well, maybe these folks were brought into my life so that they could lead me to the NEXT stop on my journey. That the people I thought I’d end up having in my life forever simply helped me to become an improved version of myself that they will, in turn, introduce to the people I’m supposed to either be with permanently or actually just meet next.

And I took more than just a little comfort in that revelation. We exhaust ourselves sometimes, trying to make things work that apparently weren’t meant to work. Maybe if we all freed up our minds and hearts a little, we’d see that we’re just passing through and shouldn’t be clinging for dear life because the people we’re supposed to meet next shouldn’t have their first impression of us marred by our kicking and screaming to stay right where we are.

Besides, for those of us who worry that we’ll be looking back over our shoulders, wondering what we passed up, we need to remember that if anyone didn’t want to be left behind, then it’s their job to run ahead of us and be what we’re running toward. And if not, then they’re probably not going to be obscuring the view of what it is we’re supposed to be seeing, and working toward, after all.

Happy New Year, originally uploaded by dcwriterdawn.

So there’s this new “Simply Vera” line at Kohl’s, and I picked up a pair of shoes for New Year’s to go with a cute, tiny Nine West purse of the same ash color that I was planning to wear. (Yes, I start with the purse, move on to the shoes and eventually find an outfit.)

Anyway, I had to buy the shoes a full size up because those bitches hurt in every other size I tried on. Yee-owch. Simply PAINFUL, people! Don’t you know how much hoofing around you have to do in D.C. to bar-hop on New Year’s Eve?!?!

We started the evening at La Tomate, which was lovely although speed of service is definitely not their specialty. As I was with a white-wine drinking crew, I ordered what turned out to be an ass-flavored Pinot Grigio — I was really salivating over the Amarone and the Sangiovese, but our bill was already a few hundred bucks without adding another buck-and-a-half for the chianti.

Anyway, it was an abbreviated menu, as restaurants are apt to do on such busy nights. Which SUCKS because I knew exactly what I wanted, going in, but had to make do with the limited selection. They kind of gave my vegetarian friend the run-around because there were no vegetarian dishes on the menu and it clearly said “no substitutions.” And the point was made very clear to them that their Web site made no indication that there were any changes to the regular menu for the holiday, so figure it out.

I had to laugh when they gave me the wine to sample before pouring it for the table. I asked my friend what they would have done had I said, “Holy shit, this tastes like battery acid!”

My dessert was sort of dismal, too. I ordered what, in Italian, sounded beautiful for pears and Parmesan cheese, but talk about truth in advertising — they cut up some pears and a few hunks of cheese and slapped it raw on a plate with a couple of leaves of lettuce.

Anyway, the slow service made us an hour late for the New Year’s Eve countdown performance at the D.C. Improv, which set us back nearly $80 each. We missed most of the opening act, Paul Morrissey, but he seemed pretty cool. (Did I mention that we were LATE and had the front-row table at the edge of the stage? Gah. That seating nightmare didn’t make it easy to slip in unnoticed.)

The headliner was Jeff Caldwell, who was awesome. Hell, he made fun of North Huntingdon, Pa., so he was all right by me. 😉

At 20 minutes till midnight, some drunken asshole yelled out, “You’re not making me laugh!” and we were ready to burn him at the stake. Sure, he’s no George Carlin, but still — give the guy a break. I mean, 300 people paid to see him, so he can’t be all bad, right?

We all yelled “Leave!” to the heckler, and out he went. Good luck finding another place to celebrate midnight — there were lines of people outside of every bar we passed between La Tomate and the Improv.

Anyway, we were given dollar-store party favors and the world’s WORST bottle of champagne EVER. It was by J. Roget, and a quick Google search says it’s about $3.99 a bottle. The “light straw” color is the same shade my urinalysis tests produce, so to say that the champagne tasted like it was transferred from a catheter bag to a bottle is probably the kindest thing I can say about it. Asparagus pee probably would taste better. *gag*

That’s how I know I’m getting older — I used to be able to drink ANYTHING alcoholic. And my championship boozing days have prepared me for nights like this. I’d already had a bottle of Pinot and some Riesling on top of it, so this champagne that put the “ass” in “battery acid” was just a chaser. The problem is, I had heartburn all damn night. Bah. No fun getting older!

In any event, all in all I had a good night, which I believe bodes well for a positive 2008.

The only unsolved mystery is, who was it that called me with a blocked number at 12 a.m. on the nose? I didn’t hear the phone ring over all the goofy music from 1981 that the Improv started blaring at midnight, but I am definitely curious who was thinking about me as the clock struck 12.

In any case, I wish you all the most joyous of years — when this one is over, I hope we all truly have much to celebrate!