Home sweet home I was the oddball at work who couldn't wait to travel to see my relatives, and probably, I'll be the oddball again at Christmas who will look forward to the trip as well.
I loved being in Pittsburgh -- I really miss it when I'm gone. Even though I choose not to live there (now, and maybe never), it will always be home to me.
The hardest part of the trip is always saying goodbye to my mom and grandfather. They are both incredible people, and I wouldn't be who I am today without their influence. I miss them desperately, and I haven't even been gone 24 hours!
Mom did her usual lavish holiday feast. Two words: Stuffing. Balls. Oh my god, I miss those -- Mom makes the best stuffing on the planet. As far as the rest of the meal (like I needed anything else!), she got the turkey from Honeybaked Ham (yum!) and made my favorite: greenbean casserole. She did some kind of sweet potato souffle, too, with crushed pecans, and it was divine. That's my mom -- always trying new stuff! She made a pumpkin cheesecake, too, but loaded us full of treats from the Oakmont Bakery, including cookies, a white raspberry torte and the Oakmonter, which is cheesecake on the bottom, a layer of fudge in the middle, chocolate cake on top, and whipped light chocolate icing drizzed with fudge. You know, I took some of my looser clothes for a reason, and they were ridiculously tight after eating all that fabulous food!
What sucks, though, is living so far away that she doesn't pack leftovers for me to take home. :( But she sent homemade banana bread home for Shawn and for me, so I'll forgive her. ;)
Hotel sweet hotel I grabbed a hotel room at the Sheraton Station Square, which was decent if not cramped and dismal. We had a stunning view of the hotel lobby, the way the windows were set up -- I should've asked for a riverside view, but whatever -- it's not like we were in the room all that much!
My only real problem with the hotel (aside from drunken neighbors on Friday night) was that, when the cats were sniffing around the room and getting used to it, they unearthed a condom (still in the package) and were playing with it. Ewww. Doesn't the staff clean under the beds?
Other than the ridiculous cost of hotel parking, I enjoyed staying at the Sheraton (I actually used to live right above it on Mt. Washington, way back in the day). On Friday night, we wandered next door, to Bar Louie and the Hard Rock Cafe for drinks, and I realized how many hot straight boys are in that city. Yum! So while the hotel didn't have much to offer in the way of scenery, the bars sure did!
Station Square has developed so much in the past few years. I actually worked there for four years in a jewelry store and a now-defunct hot sauce store. The beauty of that complex, though, was that it was a conglomeration of small businesses -- the shops were unique and independently owned, and it was a neat little place to find goods that your local mall didn't have. But with the proliferation of the bars and a variety of chain stores, it lost a lot of its charm. But it needed to get venues that make money in order to keep it viable, so yay capitalism, right? :)
Pegasus sweet Pegasus Shawn and I made our annual voyage to Pegasus, where we ran into, of all people, Frumper. I went to high school with Frumper, and to say things ended badly would be the understatement of 2003. And even though we never even spoke or, for that matter, looked directly at each other, he followed us around, no matter where we went. He was being all loud and swishy and obnoxious, just like I remember him. At first, Shawn didn't think he was purposely trailing us, but after we left the over-21 area and went down to the dance floor, Frumper managed to wander past us about half a dozen times within a half hour. Loser.
I was surprised that he was the only person I ran into during the trip -- I really don't cross paths with anyone anymore. Hell, when I lived in the city, I was always running into old friends (and rivals). But now, that just makes the trips better, that I can go out and not have to make nice with people I haven't seen in ages.
Winter fucking sweet winter On Friday night, there was this huge call for snow in Southwestern Pennsylvania. No big deal for Pittsburgh -- they were only expected to acquire one to two inches of it. But the forecasters were calling for up to six inches of snow in the mountains, which we travel through, so in the event we needed to make a quick getaway on Saturday morning, we brought the cats into the hotel with us (they had stayed with Mom on Thursday night). It was pretty easy to sneak them in, even though the hotel lobby is so dead, you can hear a mouse fart. But the girls were quiet -- Maddie was in Shawn's duffel bag, and Kadi (cage and all) were in my suitcase. We hauled their pudgy asses up the steps to the second floor, where we caught the freight elevator, and they were pretty good most of the night. We literally sauntered past the bellhop on Saturday with the cages in plain sight, and nobody stopped us. Operation Puss Drop was completed without incident. :)
Apartment sweet apartment The girls are happy to be home now, what with practically living in their cages for two days. I guess I'm glad to be home, too, but I do wish I were physically closer to my family. I'm debating just taking Amtrak up there next time around and leaving the pusses at home by themselves for a few days, because I hate highway driving, and those two don't like it any more than I do. :)
I spent the morning cleaning my kitchen and bathroom. And by cleaning, I mean scrubbing the hell out of them. I cleaned before I left so that I could come home to a welcoming place, but I felt the need to scrub today. Mom gave me a housewarming gift of a pretty basket filled with green and maroon rugs and towels and potholders and little fruit characters (fruits are on the fabric, and the little characters have joints and sit where you put them), which I wasn't real sure about when I saw it (you understand, I'm always waiting for Mom to officially lose her mind -- I thought she had flipped her lid for good this time with all the fruit stuff, when she knows I decorate in black and blue!), but now that it's displayed, it looks cute. *whew* Everything coordinates so well (and she bought me a case of paper towels to match, but I'll have to get those next trip), and I like coordination more than anything, so rock on Mom! And it's like having a little bit of her here, and I'll take what I can get, till I get to see her again. :)
Quote of the day: "There is no escape but death, which is probably imminent afterward but doesn't solve our problem in the interim." -- Shannon, when I asked how we can escape the Veggie Patch Holiday Potluck on Dec. 12.
Leaving for Pittsburgh first thing in the a.m. with Shawn and two four-pawed creatures who hate car trips. Shawn has offered to chauffeur, and I accept that willingly. Holiday drivers are worse than normal drivers, surprisingly (and here, I just thought everyone was nuts on the highways -- they were a special brand of insane today).
I went to the print shop at 7ish tonight -- normally, they call around 10 a.m. And most of the pages weren't even ready to be viewed yet. And of course, it figures that there were errors on the 28-page special section -- nothing on our end, just a gradient screen on each page that disappeared. It happens all the time; the pressman tonight said he couldn't fix it, but I told him my regular guy had better will know what to do.
One thing I am looking forward to, being in Pennsylvania, will be being waited on by people who speak English. Apparently, having your cashier/neighbor/server/bank teller being able to effectively communicate with you is overrated. Shit, I went to SunTrust today to get a cashier's check for my rent (so I don't bounce yet another fucking check), and she was all bada-badaing all over the place. I actually had to ask her to write down what the fuck she was saying -- maybe it was her accent that was throwing me off. But no, she wrote some type of Sanskrit or Esperanto or something, and I was lost.
And I'm already at the end of my rope as far as nerves and patience go. What she was trying to communicate, I figured out eventually, was that there is an $8 service fee for the cashier's check. I said fine. So she tries to re-explain it. I said, "Hey look, I am well aware that the SunTrust empire charges me for every damn thing I need from it. Between your ridiculously high charges for Insufficient Funds, which I am altogether too familiar with, I am willing to accept this $8 charge to hand me a piece of paper ... not that I am thrilled about it, mind you." (Erica will be glad to tell you about her similar opinion on NSF charges!)
So Bank Lady bada-badaed under her breath and kept on typing. I handed her my driver's license so she could spell my name correctly on the check, and then she asked if the name on the driver's license was the one that should appear on the check. *sigh* Not that I understood her the first three times she inquired.
People in Pittsburgh may have their own lazy, fucked-up dialect, but I look forward to being UNDERSTOOD and serviced in a timely manner. Factoring out the fact that I was in line forever, the teller transaction that cost me $8 lasted a good 20 minutes. Shouldn't, though, they pay ME for my time?!?!
Mom and I already had our first tiff of the holiday season on the phone today, so it's looking like Thanksgiving is off to its usual running start. What was the argument about? She asked what kind of wine/pop/whatever I want to drink, and I said, "It doesn't matter." So she asked me why I can never make things easy on her, and I told her that I will drink whatever she fucking puts in front of me.
Our relationship is really good, actually. It's just holidays that bring out the very worst in us. I am just hoping that this isn't a rushed trip -- that we actually have time to hang out and enjoy each other. Because the second a schedule is involved, tensions shoot up to the moon (on both of our parts).
Bleah.
At any rate, Happy Thanksgiving to all, and to all a good shit afterward so you have room for turkey sandwiches later on in the evening! Or, if you're like Shawn and me, be cleaned out so that you can go out drinking to forget about your holiday. Pegasus, here we come!!!
I've been doing laundry for the past few hours, but only washing. Some dumbass claimed the two dryers for the better part of today, and she left her shit in there until I finally got mad and emptied one of the machines. I don't dry most of my clothes, but I had a pile of jeans and bathroom rugs waiting for a tumble.
The bitch finally came to get her laundry as I was loading my dryer. (I had very nicely piled her shit in the laundry tub she'd left in there.) She touched the stuff and complained that it was still wet. What the hell? Did she think I'd run them through another cycle for her? Wasn't it bad enough I waited TWO HOURS for her before I finally got pissed off enough to claim the dryer for myself?
Then, after snapping at me, she actually held the door for me so I could exit with my freshly dried pile of denim. I wanted to tell her not to do me any fucking favors, but I graciously thanked her and wandered upstairs.
What bugs me the most is that she's in the apartment right next to the laundry room -- like she couldn't have waddled her ass over there sooner. Dipshit. I hate neighbors.
Quote of the night:"He's neurotic; he's needy. He's like everyone I date." -- Thom, on "Queer Eye."
I'm much more relaxed than I was an hour ago. I forgot to mention the most important part of production night -- little Alex stopped by! Shan and John brought her by to meet Angie and Scot, and of course to let Aunt Dawn hold her. I didn't want to let her go -- she just gets cuter every day. Not to mention, she's three times bigger than when she was born -- she's at a healthy 12 pounds now! woo hoo! I used to be able to hold her with one hand, then one arm. Now she fills up both arms -- it's just amazing, how much she's overcome to be so strong today.
Seriously, this kid is so ridiculously adorable that it almost made me want one of my own. Almost, of course! ;)
I made a funny last night. Well, it's not funny so much as true, but I realized that I'd have a better chance of getting on a waiting list for a kidney (and getting said internal organ) than finding a functional relationship.
Arrived at work around 7 a.m. (at least two hours earlier than usual!) and worked on corrections and circulating my proof to the masses. Got it out before everyone else arrived here at hell.
Drank lots of coffee. Smoked a bunch. Whined and complained.
Talked with a CNN reporter about Wacko Jacko. No, I'm not the company spokesperson, but I had a connection in that office who must've passed my name along. So I am jumping on the bandwagon to get some good press over here. Only problem is, nobody around here is picking up their phones for me to make this story happen.
Speaking of CNN, I found this little pick-me-up. Death recommended for Muhammad. W00t! They're making an example out of him. Although, the way it goes, I'm sure he'll be appealing it for the next 20 years.
Shan said she's going to try to prevent moving to Oregon anytime soon. That's not to say it'll never happen, but her husband put his foot down and said no way in hell are they leaving D.C. in the next couple of months. Woo hoo! She and I already set up a business meeting next week to start planning our escape route from corporate hell.
And hell, since it's been awhile, here's little miss Alex, who has recently started smiling (I love kids with bright eyes -- she's so alert and with it, not like a lot of spazzed-out kids whom you have to lie to the parents about and claim they're cute -- this little one really IS adorable!):
"Dear dawn, There is some likelihood you'll make an electrifying emotional encounter today. Some of life's more mundane details may trigger arguments that, though violent, are cathartic and short-lived. You have been thinking that it is time for more intensity in your life. Whether you know it or not, you are rethinking all manner of human relationships."
I'm LOOONNNGGG overdue for an electrifying emotional encounter. Although, I might not know it if I tripped over it. :) Bring on the intensity, whomever or whatever it may be!
My neighbor across the road got mad at her son and threw a lawnchair at him. Beaned him pretty good with it too. Had I not been on the phone with Shawn at the time and been narrating the event (which I saw in its entirety), I would've thought I was dreaming.
The kid (he's 16) ran screaming into the house. The mom kept yelling after him but never got up out of her own chair.
Heh. Tales from the ghetto. :)
I've been blogging offline today. I don't do it very often, but today I had a lot on my mind that isn't fit for print. It's a balance of psychosis and hopefulness; kind of like my bipolar Gemini personality. :) All I can tell you is that I'll be fine. Eventually!
Of course, there was never any doubt that I am my mother's daughter -- we're similarly and ridiculously brain-dead.
I gave her a quick call this morning to check in -- I'd had a meltdown on the phone yesterday, and I had to hang up when I almost crashed my car into Popeye's drive-thru window. So we're chatting and I hear her rustling around and cursing under her breath. I asked her what the hell was going on, and she said, "Damn it -- I can't find my cell phone!"
I said, "Uh, Mom -- what did I call you on?"
*thunk*
She asked me not to tell anyone about that. So it's between you, me and the blogosphere now. ;) (I admit, I lose my glasses for hours at a time, only to pass by a mirror and see them on top of my head 'cause I'm too vain to keep them on my face. LOL)
I've got to send a shout-out to Angie for bringing me sweet-and-sours mix, because I made myself a bunch of amaretto sours last night, and well, I slept beautifully and didn't get up to wring Shorty B's neck until 8 a.m. (Shorty B. usually starts pissing me off around 5:45 a.m. -- I was able to snuggle back up with my pillows and ignore her for a couple of hours!)
The weird news is that my designer must've called me around 11 last night, and I picked up. Only thing is, I don't remember the conversation. I looked at my phone this morning and saw his number on the list of recent calls. I saw him today and admitted that I don't remember talking to him. He said he thought something was kind of off with me, but apparently I answered his questions because I got the proof today. :)
I'd say that I hope I didn't say anything too stupid, but I do that when I'm perfectly lucid, so I'm surprised he noticed the difference. :)
At any rate, things always look better in the morning. I have a lot of thinking to do about my future, but this weekend is dedicated to proofing a 72-page tabloid. And alcohol -- don't forget the alcohol!
Parting thought: Everybody wish my good friend Dawn a happy birthday! Girl, you don't look a day over 29 (and I mean that wholeheartedly!)!
You may be caught in a difficult quandary in which your attention to other people's needs and emotions may draw you into dramas that you do not wish to be a part of, dawn. As a result, you may become very indecisive and unsure of which way to proceed. You will find, however, that you are confident of your decision once you have made it.
I've done way too much thinking today. Am I happy where I am? What needs to change -- job, geography, what? I cried a lot today, and maybe it was for nothing. I don't know. I'm just really sad and confused right now. Should I stay here in Alexandria, or should I leave town when my lease expires next summer? When the hell am I going to get my finances together? When am I going to go into business for myself? How am I going to do it? How am I going to afford my bills? You'd think, with my income (which is decent, for my age), that I could afford my life. But I can't. I'm not extravagantly spending money -- it's all loans and credit cards and car and housing -- stuff I ran up long ago and in small increments. Now I am barely getting by. And I hate every minute of it.
I've made a lot of good friends around here, but some are leaving, and others plan to leave soon. I suppose I can always make new friends (and, of course, keep the old ones, no matter how far away they go!), but that would require motivation on my part. Maybe I need some alone time to get my career in order and decide if I can do it from somewhere else, preferably somewhere more affordable.
My grandfather is going into renal failure -- the same thing my grandmother and great-grandmother died from. That means mom will need me -- she has no property, no income (she's a full-time caregiver). And lord knows I can barely support my furry children -- how will I be able to take care of all of us?
I'm going to go take a nap -- my eyes are practically swelled shut from sobbing most of today. I hate being unsure of how to survive from paycheck to miserable paycheck, and of course today's paycheck was short due to furlough days. Fuck me running.
1. List five things you'd like to accomplish by the end of the year. The end of the year, as in, in six weeks? Jesus Christ.
1. I'd like to get to my laundry pile -- all 12 loads of it 2. Write out holiday cards 3. Plan a party (with no money, of course) 4. Return phone calls/e-mails from friends (I'm horrible at this) 5. Not commit suicide over finances and other worries
2. List five people you've lost contact with that you'd like to hear from again. 1. Melissa Vogel (ego-surf, woman! Where are you in this world?!?), my old friend from Pittsburgh -- we worked together at Kaufmann's in the Jones New York section.
2. Howard and Nancy -- I worked with Howard at Easter Seals, and he and Nancy were always up for a good happy hour, especially at their homes. God, we had fun!
3. Kristine Habun -- we went to Point Park College together and graduated together with journalism degrees, when what we both really wanted was to be novelists. I loved talking with her and reviewing each other's short stories. (Another one I hope who ego-surfs and finds this!)
4. My old friends Kristin and Steve (I put them together because we were such a unit). Sure, we all exchange the occasional e-mail, but it's not the same. It never will be.
5. Shan (even though I haven't lost her). I just got my best girlfriend back, and she's leaving me. She's going to move back to Oregon in the next couple of months (financial reasons), and of course little Alex will be going with her. She just told me five minutes ago. I can't stop crying and I want to die. I miss her already, and I'm falling apart as I type this.
3. List five things you'd like to learn how to do. 1. Make money 2. Run a business 3. Create art, whether it be paintings, sculpture, photography or whatever else inspires me 4. Publish my books 5. Become a writing coach or instructor -- I'm a good editor, but I'd like to take it a step further and not just re-write people's stories, but teach them how to do it right the first time.
4. List five things you'd do if you won the lottery (no limit). 1. I'd buy my mom a house 2. I'd buy myself a house and pay off my car/credit cards/medical bills/defaulted student loan 3. I'd quit my day job and freelance when/if the mood strikes 4. I'd give Shan money to stay here in Virginia; I'd help out all of my family and friends who are working so hard and accomplishing so little due to financial restraints 5. I would shop like a madwoman and buy a new Mac G5 and every damn other thing I've been coveting but know I will never have
5. List five things you do that help you relax. 1. Mediate/try to regulate my breathing 2. Blog/write about the stress/do a quick poem about the event 3. Eat (this would explain a lot!) 4. Daydream about a better time, past or present 5. Curl up in a ball and want to die.
The ever-wacktacular Jacko was arrested. And he got out on $3 million bail. Shit. I don't even have $3 to my name to buy a pack of cigarettes. I guess when you're rich, you can molest anybody you want (although I'd choose somebody a little closer to my age range!). Jane thinks Jacko might want to go to jail ... that is, if it's Juvenile Hall. ;)
And because it's a slow news day, the Metro system approved a new bathroom policy. Sounds like it is easier to talk your way out of a speeding ticket than to convince Metro employees that you just have to pee really badly.
The decision comes tomorrow whether to fry Muhammad or let the fucker rot in jail on our tax bill. All I have to say is, "Kill the Wabbit! Kill the Wabbit!"
The Gemini horoscope sums up my typical workday: "Tolerating bad behavior can arouse anger. Despite well-justified fears about alienating co-workers, you're better off confronting a situation. The problem is you're overworked and underpaid." But since WHEN have I worried about alienating my co-workers, who are alien life forms (or, rather, human corpses that have forgotten to fall over)?
Turned in my budget today for final approval by Finance. It took two hours to do the math on a half-million-dollar list of expenditures, but four hours to figure out how to plug them into this ridiculous Excel form that Finance asked us to use.
Parting thought: Doesn't he look like the victim of a Cover Girl laboratory explosion? Shit, the man's a caricature in his "natural" state -- how would a caricaturist be able to distort this any more than it already is?
Shit like this just pisses me off beyond belief. I mean, now that Massachusetts has pioneered a possible path to acceptance for gay marriage, my adopted home state of Virginia is taking extra steps to ensure it never happens here.
Seriously, I want to go to Massachusetts and marry a woman right now just so I can prove a point. Really, who gives a shit and what difference does it make? Oh wait, spouses can be covered under each other's insurance plans and be entitled to pensions and property in the event of death. God forbid that an occasional estate doesn't get turned over to the county instead of to someone who deserves it. *sigh*
I'm getting older, and I've already figured out that the whole "fairytale" bullshit ain't happenin' for me -- the expectation of career, marriage, family and retirement is more a dream than a potential reality here, so I've gotta think outside the box. I sure haven't met the man of my dreams yet (or, if I have, I just haven't realized it yet), and I don't know if ever I will (or if ever I will catch him!). Maybe my fate might be to end up with a woman (insert "Strangers With Candy"'s Jeri Blank's quote, "I like the pole AND the hole!" And if that's how it works out, fine. I just want to know that I'm not going to be treated like a freak of nature by society if that's how my life happens to unfold.
The flying coffins elevators have been acting up lately, so one of the chicks in H.R. sent us an e-mail to ask us to specifically outline any troubles we've had with the elevators.
So Shan sends this:
"Elevator problems I've encountered:
Uh, it brought me to the 2nd floor... :)"
Yeah, it's a recurring problem, coming back every day for more!
My supervisor didn't approve my budget at our meeting today -- but the weird part is that she asked me to spend more money.
We were asked to cut 10 percent from our FY 2005 budgets, so I chopped out a good $53K. The only way I could do that was to cut one issue of the magazine out of the schedule, thus having 11 runs a year instead of 12. Not only that, but I also cut out all freelance writers' services, because I think the money is better spent retaining our designer (they actually wanted us to bring the layout in-house -- I deal with so much shit all month that I don't think I would be mentally stable enough to lay out the paper, too).
My supervsior told me to budget for all 12 issues and to build in four freelance stories -- she really feels that my budget should be spared from the suggested 10 percent belt-tightening. I was surprised -- I really went into this meeting prepared to do battle because I thought they'd sooner see me get rid of the designer than a full issue.
But the weird news is that my supervisor and I really bonded today over a number of issues. I expressed my disgust with the fact that some of us with really good titles have little decision-making authority, when it comes down to it. I also said it bothers me that, like my last job, policies and procedures change depending on the mood of Cruise Director. And we had a long talk about how sometimes when you try to move forward on something because no one has the time to give you guidance, you get burned. And I wondered how many times she got burned before she became the type of worker she is today, which is often indecisive and definitely unsure about the decisions she does support.
I became that at my last job -- scared to take a step forward, for fear of being slapped back into place. That scarred me for life, and I don't want to be afraid. And unfortunately, I play a lot of political games (I'm the object known as the pawn). I told her that at a "real" publication, I could tell people to grow up and deal with things -- that the rules can't be bent just because they have big mouths and can create a lot of trouble until they get their ways.
Kind of like this recent debacle in which I interviewed the former child molestor, and everyone went apeshit and is trying to get me fired because of it. They get a hair up their asses, and who only knows how long it takes till Cruise Director gives them their ways (as he often does) just to stop the round-robin of e-mails and calls he gets. I doubt he would ever tell them that they should be ashamed of themselves and should maybe try being the professionals they supposedly are. Shit, this one wench running for president of the association started a flame war against me (unbeknownst to me), yet all the while we've been trading e-mails and having conversations in which she's told me what a great job she thinks I'm doing. Fucking hypocritical asswipe.
At any rate, I just got home from work and I am tired. I have to wait around till things come together or people send me things, so my day really doesn't even start until the early afternoon. Which, of course, means I work late. I still can't figure out why my presence is required in the office during the a.m. hours -- lord knows I'm not even awake enough to function even if I DID have the submissions at that time of day!
Motivation is hard to come by at work for me lately, even more so than usual. But we're going into hella-busy time, and that's the only time I feel vital. So I'll be working a lot, but know that I am loving (every other) minute of it! ;)
Clearly, the man needs some serious psychological assistance more than a night in jail (although he hasn't been detained yet). Wonder who what he did to earn this trip to the slammer. :) I wonder if there will be an O.J. Simpson-style chase with the cops and Jacko in a flying Dumbo machine or a hot air balloon. Heh.
Speaking of child molestors, I talked to the guy I interviewed for my last magazine issue. He was all hopes and dreams that somebody would hear his story and want to hire him. Shit. I was more than happy to tell him all about the letters to the editor declaring ME to be criminally insane for even interviewing him. I swear, in half of these letters, people are telling me that I must be in favor of child molestation, just because I told this guy's story. I need to smack some of them around with a cluestick -- just because I wrote his story doesn't mean I condone it -- I only shared it as a means of telling people in my profession that this is somebody who could be their client someday. Sheesh.
There are so many parallells between my interviewee and Wacko Jacko -- not the least of which is a certain kind of innocence, in which they sought the company of young boys because, really, that's their own level of maturity and mentality. But at least my interviewee knew he needed help -- he just didn't know how/where to get it, and even though he couldn't afford it, he did get the help. Lord knows Jacko can afford some psychiatric treatment for his attachment to untapped anuses. :)
Well, we're all thrilled that John Muhammad was found guilty on all counts. Of course, you know what kind of punishment I think he deserves. Defense attorneys are still trying to argue that his finger never touched the trigger of the Bushmaster rifle, but I hope nobody's buying that -- he drove the car, he taught the boy to shoot and he willingly and knowingly contributed to widespread panic.
(Samuel) Walker, one of several law officers who participated in the interrogation, said he was struck by Malvo's maturity and intelligence. "I marveled at how intelligent he was," said Walker, a veteran homicide detective who was assigned to the sniper task force.
If he were so intelligent, why the fuck did he think it was a grand idea to curl up in a trunk and shoot people through a hole? Not to mention, he truly believed the government would give the bumbling idiot pair $10 million to stop the madness. Mature and intelligent, my ass!
Dear whatever higher power might be listening: do not, under any circumstances, let Malvo's insanity plea spare him in any way. He was not brainwashed (although, as I've heard it, it would've only taken a light rinse. LOL). Just because Muhammad was found guilty, I don't want jurors to get soft and say that this kid has a chance to be rehabilitated. He doesn't deserve that chance, after taking away so many tomorrows and possibilities from every person he spotted and took down.
Christ, I'm blogging about news, aren't I? But it's so much easier than forming an original thought. :)
How sad that this is a victory -- that people in love who don't happen to be a man and a woman are treated as second-class citizens. Hurrah for common sense prevailing for once.
Well, I'm glad John Muhammad was found guilty of capital murder charges under Virginia's anti-terrorism act, after his little sniper spree last year. But now the question remains whether he gets life in prison or death by lethal injection.
I'm sure you've all heard it from me before -- I want to put him and Malvo into a fenced-off forest, and I want FBI sharpshooters in training to be outside of the fences, randomly shooting at them, so they never know when they're going to die. In fact, I want the sharpshooters to only shoot to wound them at first -- draw a lil blood from a finger here, just graze a shoulder there. Then go for the aorta. I want them to feel half as much fear as everyone in this area felt once they hit town.
A lifetime in jail at my expense is too fucking much. I pay a hell of a lot in property taxes and real estate costs -- I don't want another dime of it to go toward keeping these idiots alive and well in my state.
When you have a dream about someone -- especially someone you haven't seen/heard from since the beginning of time, does that mean they might have had a dream about you, too?
Even if it isn't a dream had in slumber, suppose you crossed someone's mind at the exact same time that they thought about you?
I had a dream about someone I knew in Pittsburgh, and the dream was, if not exciting, then at least pleasing (essentially the opposite of how we parted ways). And I recalled the person fondly, for a little while, when I awakened. I guess I just wonder if this person would ever stop to think, "Gee, I was lucky to know her."
Of course, I am guilty of wishful thinking at times. :)
Rejected title: In which everyone humps the hired help
After a series of instances where nothing really went right for me today, I decided to go to the AMC for a lil bit of "Love Actually."
I'm still undecided whether I liked it, but when (if) ever I get some spare cash, I am definitely going to get the soundtrack. Other than needing a scorecard to keep the characters/entanglements in order, it wasn't a bad way to spend a Saturday evening. I just hated being surrounded by couples trying to catch the last matinee of the day.
The only spoilers I can remember give involve Billy Bob Thornton in a brief role as the U.S. president, Hugh Grant as England's prime minister doing a little Tom Cruise/"Risky Business" type of dance in his home, and the storyline about the kid. That's about it. Everyone else was trying to hump their hired help. Then there was that dork who went to America in search of beautiful women, but I am still thinking that should have been shot as a dream sequence, 'cause it didn't sit right with me.
Speaking of mindless fun, I went to S'Bucks today for a long-awaited peppermint mocha. *aaah* And in all weirdness, when I was leaving the store, I got followed by some guy who was trying desperately to ask me out.
Long story short (yeah, right -- this is me we're talking about!), he kept yelling after me to stop and wait for him as I exited the store and decided to go window-shopping in the plaza. I figured, hell, I hadn't taken notice of him when I breezed out with my venti cup of joy, so I kept strolling, although more quickly than usual.
I ducked into World Market and made a beeline for the back of the store. Then I got smart and realized that if I hid toward the front of the store, he might not see me (particularly where there is more clutter than you can imagine). So I take off my jacket and tie it around my waist; I push my glasses to the top of my head and, well, hope I look like a different person.
I get away with this for, like, two minutes, till someone approaches me to ask if I have change for a $50. And it's the same voice that followed me. *Snort* I don't have change for 50 cents right now, let alone a $50, so I said no and scooted away. So he followed me and asked the time. I, of course, can't read my analog watch, so I said it was either 1:30 p.m. or 2:30 p.m. -- take your pick. And I kept walking.
So he says something that sounds like "joomarie" and I stop in my tracks and say, ever so eloquently, "Huh?" He says it like five more times till he finally points to his ring finger. Aha. Married. I said, "Not yet," and kept on walking.
And so he follows. He asked if I have a boyfriend. I said, "Thanks for asking!" and I literally ran to the other end of the store, where, as luck should have it, I was looking at an item and the gal standing next to me struck up a detailed conversation about the product line. *whew* No more weird guy -- I had protection.
And while I am flattered somebody actually found me attractive enough to FOLLOW me for a half hour, well, I just bemoan the fact that I never meet my "type," whatever that may be. But I'll know it when I see it -- of that, I am certain. Till then, I will remain flypaper for freaks. ;)
There is this person running for president of our organization, and she's a real treat. She's all about reducing what little power I have (and threatened the CEO, "This discussion isn't over," when he tried to support me). This woman also wants me to print the paper in Spanish, too. Because, you know, money grows on trees.
So I told my boss today, "If (bitch on rag) gets elected president, you will have my resignation." My boss almost fainted -- I may not be her favorite employee, but she knows she can count on me.
I did take it back, somewhat, to say that I do still have cats to feed, so I will just accept it but not be happy about it. But the look of horror on her face showed me, for perhaps the first time, that I am a valued employee. Heh. If that's what it takes. ...
1. Using one adjective, describe your current living space. Ideal. It's mine, mine, mine!!!!
2. Using two adjectives, describe your current employer. I need words that have a myriad of definitions. "Special" comes to mind. And so does "challenging." You pick out which line in Webster's should apply. :)
3. Using three adjectives, describe your favorite hobby/pasttime. Throbbing, pulsating and sticky. And by that, I mean masturbation.
4. Using four adjectives, describe your typical day. I suppose "competing in special olympics" doesn't fit the bill for four adjectives, does it now? I have to say, my typical day runs the gamut between fulfilling, frustrating, confounding and pleasing. And usually, in that order. :)
5. Using five adjectives, describe your ideal life. My ideal life would alternate between being lascivious, concupiscent, tranquil, requited and salacious.
Eight days till payday, and I'm broke. Perfect time to receive a $6,200 bill for my recent hospital stay. *sigh* Crappy insurance plan -- even crack whores can get low-income health insurance that covers more than this. Fucking HMOs.
We were paroled early yesterday from work, as the power went out around 11 a.m. (of course, we didn't get out till after 1 p.m., when a committee of the elder statesmen determined that, even if the power came on, it would probably go right back off. Blame it on the winds that were strong enough to carry Dorothy and Toto into Kansas. :)
This month, I've officially lost five working days. There were two days last week when we lacked Internet service (and I rely heavily upon e-mail), then we had the furlough day and Veteran's day earlier this week. Then yesterday was a complete wash. I had power, for the most part, at home, but I can't access the files on our work server from here, so I came home, got in my jammies and got a movie from On Demand.
So, I will work like a madwoman today. Hurrah. My editorial deadline is Tuesday, and my budget is due on the same day. Guess who has to work this weekend. *sigh* Why can't the cats go out and make a living to support their mother?
I never slept so well as I did last night (of course, I had Shorty B., the hellion cat, caged, so that helped!).
During the past couple of days, I've been exchanging e-mails with someone from my past. I wish I could share the e-mails, and maybe someday I will post some excerpts. But the short version is that we've had this secret hanging over our heads for years, and it was like the proverbial elephant sitting on the kitchen sink -- everybody knew it was there, and everone tiptoed around it and pretended not to notice.
I chose never to bring it up. I chose instead to drop off the radar with him, much like he did when that elephant moved in. And I don't know what happened, but he chose now to talk about it, chose now to try to make amends with me.
I took the apology. I listened to the stories. I don't do that for everyone, but I'm glad I did for him.
More often than not, people in my position never get that apology. Even though it sucks, we just learn to accept that when the going gets tough, some people head for the hills and leave the mess behind. And for the rest of us who can't stand a mess, we take care of business, no matter how hard it is. But I've had friends go decades with no word that the trauma ever registered on the other person. And now I have the gift of knowing that I'm not the only one who hurt, that I'm not the only one whose life is interrupted by reminders, usually at the worst possible times.
It's not necessarily that he needed my permission to move on, but I did offer my blessing to deal with it and not be too haunted. And in doing so, I feel better that I meant enough to him for him to want to finally know what went on, and what will always go on, inside my head.
I left a lot of bad memories behind when I left Pittsburgh nearly two years ago. But last night, I was truly able to close that chapter and hopefully to save a friendship that got mangled in the current that swept me away.
And today is a new day in all senses. The poison is out of my system, and I am truly free to move on. The ability to forgive is empowering.
Shan is back to work. Even though a lightbulb burned out in my office, I got an eviction notice (for being late a lousy $100 on the rent, and I even warned them about it!), traffic sucked and the rain was wretched this morning, I swear it all faded when I saw her. It's like a higher power finally threw me a lifeline. :)
And no mention of Shan on this blog is complete without a glimpse of Miss Alex, especially 'cause she looks cute in the lil denim outfit I bought way before she was ever born:
This completes the trifecta of posts about the person from my past and the decisions we made that forever connect us.
Tonight, I received the apology I hadn't realized how much I've needed. But moreover, I learned that I'm not the only one battling demons, not that I would wish pain of this proportion on any human. Granted, I faced my biggest obstacles head-on, and long ago. And his dragons are taking longer to be slain. I say this not with any emotion other than understanding.
This reminds me of when my grandmother died. I battled with my grief immediately. Mom popped Valium to get through the tragedy, but when the pills ran out, the pain came rushing through the door, knocking the wind out of her. The mind can be a dark lair sometimes, and seeking refuge and answers there, in the aftermath of avoidance, usually creates more long-term damage.
I had a distinct memory tonight, one long forgotten, of when I offered for him to start his life over with me. That maybe we shouldn't give up -- that maybe, just maybe, we could make the situation work. All it would have taken from him would have been one word, a simple affirmative, and life would have been so different. I'm not implying that different would have equalled better, though.
When I was in the hospital recently, I was asked about this a dozen times. As much as I've put this behind me, there will always be a reason to dredge it up. My medical history will always have a mark on it, much like my heart.
But tonight, my heart is doing a lot better than it has been for the past two and a half years. And it will be fine until Valentine's Day, when I will inadvertently realize that I might have been celebrating a second birthday, were a question answered in another way. But then I wouldn't be where or who I am today, either, and maybe the end of one opportunity precipitated the accomplishment of others ... and the dream of many more.
How you frustrate me, you blank Word document, silently taunting me for my inability to just choose a coherent starting point for my madness. I have thousands upon thousands of thoughts and images and shapes and patterns in my head, and do you THINK I can string them together into something resembling anything?
I have hundreds of typed pages of notes, and hundreds more that are handwritten. My book series is begging to be written. All it needs is the first fucking paragraph of the first book, and the rest, as they say, shall follow.
As a newswriter by trade, I know that once the lead graf is written, everything else will systematically follow. When you don't have a strong lead, the story never feels quite right. And I need a strong lead, because if I don't hook readers during the first book, nobody's going to want to read the remaining six in the series.
I did make some good notes today. But then I learned that my blog has fallen into enemy hands (of the Veggie sort), and that pretty much killed my inspiration for the day.
But I have enjoyed my four-day weekend. I needed this. :)
So I was ranting about somebody from my past just two days ago, and wouldn't you know, out of the bloody blue, I just got an e-mail from him this morning.
I don't think he reads the website, so it was just eerie to get the note. It was sweet and endearing and well-crafted -- just an attempt to say hello. *sigh* It's a good thing I don't want to be mad at him, because I could never be.
I'll definitely write back, just not right now. I'm sure he'll understand. I was the one who let the friendship drop into oblivion, and I admit to missing the old banter. It seems like he's trying to rebuild that bridge in some way. Because, you know, I rock and everybody should want to have me in their lives. ;)
Sometimes, we grow up and realize what we *should* or *could* have done differently. And sometimes, we realize that, no matter what course of action we had chosen, things probably would have turned out the same way. It's what happens after we pick ourselves up and dust ourselves off that counts -- and I'm famous for getting through tough situations and just crumbling afterward. But this time, I didn't. I made something of myself. I've gone on to love and lose, hope and hurt, succeed and screw up -- and do it all over again.
I suddenly feel inspired to revisit my book series. I'm going to take a bloggy break and go focus on that today. I haven't touched it in years, but today is the day I remember what it was I wanted to do before the whirlwind of life picked me up and forgot to put me down. :)
I know, I'm not being paid today, but I checked my e-mail at work to see what's up.
I just got a letter to the editor, copied (of course) to every elected and appointed leader within the organization, calling for me to step down as editor. He's enraged that I did an interview with a former child molester who is also a member of our collective profession.
Just a clue: I work for bleeding-heart, tree-hugging fuzzy-wuzzy types. And I did not tell everyone to love the guy I interviewed; I just did a story about how hard it is to commit a crime and move on with one's life, how society imprisons you forever, even after you've done your time.
As far as I'm concerned, that reader only served to underscore my point about the HYPOCRISY that exists within our collective profession.
I have a friend who's going through a tough time right now, over the end of a relationship, and it got me to thinking. And thinking, in the Caterwauling hacienda, usually makes this author live up to the domain name she chose so brilliantly. :)
I write this without the benefit of ever having had a normal, stable relationship where the timing was right for both parties simultaneously. But that has given me enough wisdom and insight to realize when it's time to either find the door or usher someone to it.
A gal at work had once told me about how, in relationships, she makes it clear from the beginning that she's in it for keeps, so much so that if you ever hurt her, you will pay. She jokes that going psycho on them immediately scares them into submission. And while I laugh heartily at that, I can admit that the one time I went psycho on somebody, he was more than happy to run screaming.
In other instances, I am more of the attitude that, if things aren't working, somebody needs to leave. I mean, hell, relationships and dating are hard enough without the extra added obstacles (read: enough baggage to get you through a six-month trip to Europe).
Even with people who are battered (physically or emotionally), they tend to overstay their welcome in their relationships. Why? They stay for the good things, the good times, the good memories. They give thanks for the little things -- a day without arguments, a great vacation full of togetherness, a night without ending in the E.R. ;) I was in a "mercy relationship" once -- no matter how many times I broke it off, he just wouldn't go away, and I got too tired to fight him anymore. I took the time we were together to just mentally check out and play with my imaginary friends inside my head -- I got my "alone time" when he was in the room with me. Yet, once in awhile, we'd connect on some level, and I could look at him and wonder if, just if, the timing were right, could we have made it work.
Of course, because that was my first relationship, I gave it a lot more life support than the insurance company would permit. Sometimes, it's best for everyone involved to just sign the DNR papers and turn the button off.
Same thing with my last relationship (almost two years ago -- gaah!). We didn't have a thing to say to each other, but we could sure fuck like rabbits on crack. And while, at the time, that was great for me (I worked 65-hour weeks and didn't have the time to invest in dating), it got old. Seriously, I was starting to wonder who he was fucking when I was writing 75-page proposals in my office at midnight, and I told him flat-out that my health (mental, physical and especially sexual) was too important for me to be playing reindeer games. The message I wanted to send was hey, we either exchange conversation in addition to bodily fluids, or we need to put a stop to this. He was clearly guilty of screwing around, I figured it out and it was over, no questions asked.
He did call quite a few times after that, for some Saturday night specials, but I hung up on him every time. Ironically, I went on to have a series of one-night stands with colleagues and people I met on the Internet, and he went on to have a long-term relationship that I think is still going on. It's not that I was against casual sex or that he was against monogamy (I think) -- it's just that we didn't want those things at the same time, or, quite frankly, with each other.
A part of me, of course, takes pause to wonder why he could commit to this new girl but not to me. But that same part of me knows that we had a good thing -- being fuck buddies -- that was right for both of us at that time. But as time went on, I realized this was going nowhere. And I'm all about enjoying the journey more than the destination, but I also wanted to know up-front whether it was time to make the next leg of the journey solo ... that maybe there was someone else more worthy of the ride (in all senses of the word!).
In essence, that was my advice to my buddy -- enjoy it for what it's worth, and if the stars aren't aligned, then the path needs to change. We all chalk up a lot to experience, but that's OK -- it's better than waiting for things to change by themselves.
I was talking to Shawn the other day, somewhere between six shots of Apple Pucker, the D.C. Eagle and Club Chaos, how ridiculous it is that, for women, the biological clock issue has to exist. I mean, damn, Shan was 35 when she had Alex, and all of her doctors were yapping about how medically risky it is for women over 35 to breed. Shit, I don't expect to have collided with the love of my life by then (I'll admit it's six years from now, but I plan to be 29 for at least most of those years!), let alone trust and love someone enough to want to continue this ridiculously messed up line of genetics that I've inherited with them. :)
And sure, I'm enlightened enough to know that if I really want a kid, I don't need anything more than a turkey baster and someone willing to jack off in a cup. But on the other hand, there is that minor pressure to not put the carriage before the horse. But I might not be ready for all of that until I'm 40, if then.
(Okay, THAT tangent was pretty random!)
Back to my original point, it's almost like there's a clock within each of us, reminding us that we're (insert age) and we don't have a meaningful relationship; therefore, what's wrong with us? But on the other hand, the way I see it is that we've waited too long to get into something that isn't absolutely ideal. It's all fun and games till someone cums in loses an eye. And if I'm going to lose my heart, they'd better damn well be worth losing it for, and they'd better be putting theirs on the line right next to mine.
Till then, I'm stayin' single and enjoying that for what it's worth, too. But, admittedly, I wouldn't mind not spending another cold winter alone. Of course, when I meet someone worth my time and affections, hell might just freeze over, so keep those sweaters handy!!! ;)
I was just listening to Limp Bizkit's cover of "Behind Blue Eyes," and I loved it. Then I remembered someone from my past who loved that band, and I would bet my last dollar that he thinks of "Behind Blue Eyes" as his new theme song. What with the blue eyes and all, and the hard life to fit the storyline of the tune.
I get e-mails from him now and again. Nothing special, just jokes forwarded to his handful of friends, and I'm somewhere in the mix.
I know, at heart, he's truly a good guy. But when I needed him, he was nowhere to be found ... not even when he promised to go "halfsies" on a little brush with what I like to call expensive birth control. That was more than two years ago -- I stopped waiting for that support and/or money almost that long ago. I sure hope he didn't think I actually wanted or enjoyed being in that position ... especially the being alone part.
I don't hate him. I'm actually rather indifferent toward him, for the most part. I read and delete the e-mails. Once in awhile, he says something sweet, aimed just at me. I enjoy it momentarily then forget about it. Kind of like our own entanglement -- I enjoyed it, suffered the end of it, and got the fuck over it.
Shawn and I were talking about how some people hold grudges forever. That's not us -- it's unhealthy to hold onto all the built-up hurt for too long. It's better, and definitely more significant, when we can walk away from people and situations that caused us pain, whether they intended it or not. Everything's a growing experience, and sometimes, we grow apart, stop growing together or there is no growth left to occur until a clean break is made.
At any rate, whenever I hear that Limp Bizkit song, I wonder if he's somewhere hearing it at the same time and thinking that the song is about him. And I can only wonder if he'd ever know that Carly Simon's "You're So Vain" runs through my head at the exact same moment.
1. What food do you like that most people hate? Not so much food, but I'll say cigarettes, 'cause those usually get me a few disdainful looks every time I light up. :)
2. What food do you hate that most people love? Tomatoes. I actually hate onions more, though, but because onions seem to come on/in every dish in every restaurant, that's null. When I have a choice, I prefer white pasta sauces, white pizzas, etc.
3. What famous person, whom many people may find attractive, is most unappealing to you? Oh, I say "What's the big deal?" about practically every star, particularly the skinny ones. I don't trust skinny people -- what the hell is with people who go to the gym five times a day? They need to eat cake. And lots of it. :)
Take Missy "Misdemeanor" Elliot. She lost all kinds of weight, and she was lauded in the press. But now her head looks too big for her body -- same thing with Oprah. Some people look much better with some meat (and plenty of barbecue sauce!) on their ribs.
And those Hilton sisters. I want to force-feed them cupcakes through an I.V. They aren't even sexy -- just trashy but with lots of money.
4. What famous person, whom many people may find unappealing, do you find attractive? People generally find some of these famous people to be unappealing because they're not exotic or overly good-looking, but even the not-so-hot folks have a certain sex appeal.
That said, after watching "Out of Order" on Showtime this summer, I started to find Eric Stoltz kind of hot. Yeah, the kid who starred in "Mask" with Cher. But on the show, he was smart and funny and having an affair with a hot soccer mom, and I found myself being kind of aroused during those scenes. :)
5. What popular trend baffles you? I was just flipping between MTV and VH1, as I do every morning, and I realized I'd become one of those people who just doesn't understand "these kids today." MTV has become a 24/7 episode of "MTV Jams," and VH1 is playing all the rock-and-roll of my youth.
I'm also trying to figure out how Britney Spears is going to be featured on a VH1 "Behind the Music" special -- wasn't that show created to chronicle the histories of our favorite, legendary bands who were famous 10 or more years ago?
But what really baffles me is reality TV. Sure, I'm guilty of watching and enjoying a lot of it, but it's getting ridiculous -- feed me some fiction anyday! I am sick of these ridiculously controlled environments where people are conditioned to act a certain way ("Fear Factor," "Real World," "Big Brother," "Amazing Race," etc.), when, in reality, they would never be on a show like that with video cameras following them everywhere. Everything disguised as "reality" is so freakin' contrived. Stop the madness and pay some actors to do their jobs, damn it!!!
We are without Internet access at work, so no bitching about the Veggie Patch for me (I heard you breathing a sigh of relief!).
But if I DID have 'Net access there, here are some of the good sites I'd be visiting in between episodes of banging my head off the keyboard and chain-smoking in the parking lot:
Budget 101, a great place for sentimental (and cheap!) gifts. Check out their recipes that are made to replace your usual visits to expensive coffee shops and restaurants!
Why pussy is good for you, especially for the ladies! :) (Commentary: Hasn't the author considered that maybe watching our cats continually eating themselves out makes us jealous?)
I am a shitty photographer; either that, or my little Nikon sucks ass. Most of my photos from the party turned out blurry, but until I figure out how to make them viewable, here are some shots that ain't so bad:
Seriously, I have put on parties of this size before. And I used to do it without the luxury of a car, so I had the added aggravation of lugging groceries and decorations all over creation. I used to bounce back relatively quickly, but today, I am in pain. But happy pain. Not happy pain as in, "Oh spank me again! *squeal* Yeah baby!" but more like the afterglow of a really good orgasm. Only problem is, my fingers hurt too much to even bother doing that. :)
All in all, I'd say it was a successful soiree. The usual suspects Shawn, Scott, Dave, Paul and Bryan showed up bearing gifts of food and drink. Shawn made kickass kebabs. Paul made some addictive bean dip (which Angie's husband Shawn -- yes, another Shawn. Oh my! -- noted that the secret ingredient had to be crack, because none of us could move away from the bowl!). Scott made some mean baked beans. Everyone brought some variant of booze, beer and mixers (which means I just need to have another party REAL soon!), and we ate like queens kings.
I was pleased to finally meet the legendary Silver Blue, Tink and PoloRandy, who drove up here from Virginia Beach, bearing gifts and a blue bunny.
Speaking of four-pawed wonders, Miss Maddie chose to hide under my bed for most of the night, but I think she had a contact high from some of the smoke in the house, because when I brought her out to meet people (it was Hans who really wanted to see her, and she was quite compliant as she cuddled up to him -- it's been awhile since she's been near a straight man!), she was cool. She even hung out in the living room for awhile, crashing on her kitty couch and just kinda checkin' out the scene from the corner of the room.
Short Bus Cat (known now as "Shorty B.") stayed caged for most of the night. Unfortunately, she scratched up a number of people, and at some point, she got away and was running around the house. Because we had the balcony doors open and I didn't want them closed (it was 70 degrees last night!), I trapped her in my room, chased her for 15 minutes, and corralled her back into her cage. She finally realized that she was safe and could also watch the action from her little vantage point, so she didn't whine too much.
I was also thrilled to see my friends Dawn and Rob, whom I haven't seen in the flesh in at least a year and a half (with Dawn) and probably two years (with Rob). (Rob, by the way, came up with the "Shorty B." moniker -- it has stuck so far!). They brought me lovely set of handpainted martini glasses (and, no, Rob, I didn't put them in the dishwasher. Yet. LOL) and many Skyy products. Ah, they know me so well. ;)
All in all, other than the fact that a piece of my grill is in FUCKING PITTSBURGH and I had to run around town to find a cheapie, tiny grill and charcoal, the party turned out OK. I had hoped to have food grilled before the guests got here, but because I only bought the grill right before they showed up, it didn't happen, which sucks because people left before I even had most of the food out (although the Sweet Lebanon in my cheese plate, and my secret-recipe sweet pepper relish dip from Harry and David (yeah, there's the secret!) were happily consumed until the grilling could begin).
Grillmaster Scotty K. chose not to live up to his name last night, opting instead to imitate Grandpa Simpson and snooze for an hour-plus on the couch during the height of the soiree. :) But Shawn and Paul valiantly took over, and the day was saved. And I've got about a trillion hamburgers, hot dogs and kebabs sitting in the fridge, crying to be cooked, because that little grill only managed to cook enough for those of us left slumpingslurring standing at the end of the evening. :)
I have photos of the party-goers in my camera, which I hope to upload later this week. I also have some shots of Scott dressed as Flo for Halloween (complete with his pantyhose and the boxers he wore under them!) that will find a home at Chez Caterwauling in the very near future.
Well, time to go feed the kitties. Shorty B. has been rather good today, and I want to reward her before I get another claw in my temple. :)
Anyway, just wanted to give a shout-out to all my peeps who made my apartment-warming special!!! :) Thanks guys!!!
OK, so between my guests and me, we have enough leftover food to feed D.C.'s entire homeless population, and we have enough booze to make their situations a lil more bearable. :) Not to mention, but there's a lot of food I either froze or forgot to put on display because, well, I was trashed from the get-go.
Not much more posting tonight. Just came back from Nation with Shawn, and I am about to collapse. Met wonderful people tonight, saw old, dear friends I haven't seen in ages, and hung out with the usual fabulous posse. Good times, I tell ya. Good times. :)
Shawn and I had a Halloween adventure this evening. We started out in Old Town at the Carlyle House and at Gadsby's Tavern (Paul, where the hell were you?) before running, not walking, down to Dupont to J.R.'s for some much-needed boozin'.
Shawn is a big believer in Bar Feng Shui -- the art of moving around to find better scenery to increase one's chances of colliding with hotties. I said I needed some Cum Shui myself, and that became today's "word of the day" (the word of the day was "glory hole" when we did our Punkin-palooza last weekend).
We attended a party afterward in Logan Circle at the abode of Scott's friend Linda. On our way to the car, some people stopped Shawn to ask if he were dressed as a Backstreet Boy for Halloween. I think it was a compliment of the highest order, but he argued that at least the boys in N'Sync are hotter than the Backstreet Boys. Reminded me of the old Howard Stern skit when he and his posse did the "Backside Boys," and so that is what Shawn was for Halloween. I personally had decided to go as a "bitter twentysomething," but alas, after the Backstreet fan club accosted Shawn, my role for the holiday became "groupie." :)
Linda's party was cool -- nearly everyone was in costume, and Scott (portraying an eerily realistic "Flo Castleberry" from the fabulous sitcom "Alice") won the prize for Sexiest costume. Go, Flo!
There was an amazingly hot girl at the soiree, and Shawn and I had to take a strange pause because we both found her ridiculously attractive. Humph. Who'da thought?
I had to laugh because Linda served a completely vegan menu; me, I'll be serving meat, meat and more meat tomorrow. That is, if I ever get up and start my damn preparing. :) (Aside to invitees: Feel free to come later than 7:30 p.m. Really. Be fashionably late so the hostess can get her shit together! LOL)
Aside to fans who have been in withdrawal because of Shawn's delay in updating his blog: our fearless friend is gainfully employed again. Woo hoo! Celebratory drinks are assuredly in order, and I shall be pleased to provide a few dozen for anyone interested. :)
One last quote of the night: In Gadsby's, we were on this adventure to steal the skull of Blackbeard, and we were corralled into a room and told, "Be quiet and be quick." I said, rather loudly, "That's what I tell all my men!" *snerk*
Raising the practice of wasting time & bandwidth in the nation's capital to soaring artistic heights, searching for sapience in a cesspool of despair, indulging an addiction for coffee & cigarettes and ranting about nothing in particular.
Send lovin' to: P.O. Box 9663
Alex., Va. 22304
goddessdawn AT gmail DOT com
