Off to see the Wizard, I mean. I'm about to call a cab and get this production on the road. Haven't slept but that's what the plane is for. :) The kitties are playing on my black luggage, so I will have a keepsake from them while I'm gone. Kadi has been playing IN the suitcases, so I'll probably get to Reagan National today, and they'll open a bag and out will pop a cute but completely dense black cat, knowing my luck. Their Aunt Shan promises to take good care of the four-pawed wonders while I'm gone.
Have a good week/weekend!!! I'll be back on Monday, no doubt with stories of excruciating agony to tell -- so far, the convention director has been confined to the hospital, and I hear Demure is having a fit about that. But at least she'll be leaving me alone! Hurrah!
Everybody be good, and make me happy and have a free-for-all in the comments for me, OK? I'm going to need to hear from people I don't want to smother in their sleep. ;)
Well, today's the first day I've felt good, after suffering from a combination of food poisoning, a sinus infection and general malaise associated with work. I've lost interest in the blog, in reading e-mail (it's been days. ...) and in actually attempting to be nice to people. I've officially become the worst version of myself -- boy, I can be a real bitch when we remove the filter between my brain and my mouth!
Oh, and did I mention I'm not smoking? Grrrrrrrr. ...
But the pink comes from the Pepto Bismol I've been drinking like I'm at a half-price cocktail hour. Also, as I was out shopping yesterday, and I noticed that pink seems to be the new black, so I happily bought a bunch of jewelry and belts in pink or a pink-and-black combo. I figure, I've got to pack to go away to our exciting, sure-to-be-fun-filled (gag) work conference in Missouri next week, so at least I should have new, pretty things to make the trip less painful. As if that could ever happen. :)
I was talking to my mom about work yesterday -- what keeps me there and what's making me nuts. She told me to quit. I had told her about this monthly list of managers' tips that some of us get, and the list was totally aimed at me. It said that if employees are unhappy, give them a few days off so they can find another job. It said that people might be unhappy because their duties aren't expansive enough for them -- that they feel pigeonholed into a position. So the best thing to do is to remind them that they are meant to stagnate at this company and unless they can accept the notion of aspiring to nothingness, they just aren't people we want to have on our team.
I shared it with Shan, who blew a fuse just as quickly as I did. As if we needed any kind of tangible evidence to corroborate what we've always believed. She chatted with the sole higher-up in the place who isn't a "yes" man, and he said, very plainly, we have two types of managers: effective and ineffective. And which one wrote the memo that set us off? Right.
Speaking of ineffective managers, life has been beautiful while my supervisor has been out of the office. She has been calling in, but I've had my phone forwarded into voice mail -- she's so ridiculously fucking useless to me when she's in her office three doors down, and being out of state makes her equally so (it's difficult to be less useful than she already is). So much has happened, and I've accomplished so much, without her, that all she really wants to do is ask questions since it's not like she can actually assist any efforts I am putting forth.
I was at her secretary's desk on Friday, returning some financial records for my department (the woman probably saves the toilet paper we use, she's such a pack rat), and the secretary said, "Sure, Pussy Demure!TM. Dawn's standing right here. Yes, you can talk to her."
Gaah! I made slitting-my-throat motions and shook my head. Of course, that didn't work, so I had to talk to the woman. God damn. I wasn't thinking, and while Demure was rambling about all things related to her (and not to work, of course, including telling me stories she's told me three times already), I started moving my hand/wrist like I was jerking off. Then I noticed the secretary looking at me, horrified, so I settled for moving my hand like I was encouraging Demure to finish a thought already (she speaks reaaaaalllllyyyy slowly). I answered all her insipid questions and did enjoy gloating that the CEO approved not only my software request, but also my hardware request, without the required six meetings that Demure insisted I schedule with her and with him to get the process on track. She sounded happy for me but disappointed for her that she had to miss out on wasting several hours' of everyone's time talking about the same shit repeatedly.
OH!!! I forgot about that. The CFO mentioned to Shan something about how Demure and I butt heads. She was intrigued and asked what he witnessed. He recounted a story of when he met with us and asked me a question that I answered honestly (about getting a list of software I want -- an outside company was supposed to compile the list, but after three months of inaction, I met with our graphics director and my newspaper designer and we got a list together within one day). The CFO had asked Demure why she wasn't being useful in assisting me to get the tools I need to do my job, and that's why I was nice and said it was really the outside vendor's delay, but Demure was well aware that when I had the list together, I would need help getting it approved (not really -- I was being generous).
Well, after I left the meeting, the CFO told Shan that Demure sat and bitched about me for 15 minutes, how I was personally responsible for this list from the beginning (um, no I wasn't) and how all she was doing was waiting for me to move on it. I remember after Demure had that tete-a-tete -- she called me into her office and told me that she told the CFO what she really thought (as if she could form an opinion). And I'd told her that my story was accurate and there was no need for her to "defend" herself.
Anyway, Shan made a point of telling the CFO that if he wants my side of the story, he should hear it, 'cause it's the opposite of Demure's. He waved a hand and told Shan he didn't need to hear it, because he knows me and knows Demure is absolutely fucking worthless. And besides, why would the newspaper editor ever be put in charge of ordering hardware/software that the MIS department has to approve and order anyway?
There has been a running, fun joke among the newspaper staff and me that nobody really knows what I do for a living. Really, one person writes the main stories, another designs the paper, another sells ads. Other editors submit a column a month. Other than reading/editing everything (which, admittedly, is a suicide-inducing process at best), what do I do? Oh yeah, I sit in meetings, beat my head against blunt objects, defend myself, present ideas that are shot down, beg for change, pray for death (and not always mine), harass finance to pay my vendors, avoid potlucks and other corporate functions and remain on call for the print shop (and go running when they do call).
Oh, I got burned again -- Shan and I have been begging ever since our highly successful press conference at the Veggie Patch to do more P.R. because the idiot who's supposed to be in charge of P.R. is usually in a Zoloft trance (when she's not trying to hit us when she comes down -- I am not joking about this). So the CEO decided (after telling several departments to cut down the number of employees they send to conference) to bring back his beloved (witless) J-Ho, to handle P.R. at the conference. Not only that, but she also gets her own voice mail box at the Veggie Patch. And it was noted both in private and in public that I am to have nothing to do with public relations, even though that's my "thing."
How many times am I going to let them plunge the knife in? When am I going to realize that I am held to minimal expectations and just be content to graze the limbo bar once in awhile? If he didn't approve us to get new computers (which just arrived! yay!), I'd really be mad. ::)
And now I have to leave town to spend a week with these idiots (including J-Ho). And you can see why I'm losing my fucking cookies over here. ...
No, there were no questions on the suckage that has become the official Friday Five, but instead Sir Scott has shown me the light or, rather, at least a non-mindnumbing set of ponderables, courtesy of the ever-insightful Doug.
1. If you were a type of liquor, which would it be, and why? What brand would you be? Reminds me of a joke my grandmother used to tell -- "How does a Frenchman hold his liquor? By the ears!"
Ahem. If that were the case, I'd be Beefeater.
But if I were a sweet, sticky gooey substance (and indeed I am), I might liken myself to Amaretto (Di Saronno, natch!) or Vanilla Stoli.
2. What is the most embarrassing CD in your music collection, and when is the last time you listened to it? I really don't have a CD I hide when company's coming over, although I do have some guilty pleasures on iTunes like 50 Cent's "In Da Club (Nine Inch Nails mix)" and its counterpart, "In Da Tub," re-done by Bert & Ernie ("I'm into sitting down/I'm not into standing up/So come give me a hug/If you're into getting scrubbed!")
Alas, I have no shame whatsoever. :):
3. If they still had traveling circuses (and god dammit why don’t they!), what would be your favorite freak and why? There are no traveling circuses because my employer is the last of a dying breed. Although I'd sooner call it "a short mobile home with its wheels shot off" than a "traveling circus." Semantics aside, though, we will be traveling to our conference next week, so alas, the metaphor fits.
In any event, my favorite freak would be the bearded lady. For those of you who know my boss, well, there you have it.
4. Fill in the blanks: _____ is dumb, but ______ is really freakin’ stupid! Ow. This hurts my little brain. I agree with Scott that the latter answer should encompass the population of West Virginia, although I really need to stick a Dubya in there somewhere. Same with my little cat Kadi -- she's a think tank on four paws. Oh, wait, that's a stink tank (flatulent beast). Hmm. I've got a thousand work-specific references to insert here, but I'm trying to be nice (and not have to tell long, boring stories!).
5. What is the last thing you read in the bathroom? The bitch on the throne is presently reading the book "The Bitch in the House," which was a lovely gift from Leslie. I also read the newspaper I edit when I just don't have enough shit to inspire me. ...
This one's from Chris. Thanks for taking over for me, buddy! :)
Today I went through my mail and received my first movie from Netflix, "Chasing Amy." I opened it gleefully and watched at least a half hour before it hit me ... just how lazy as Americans have we become?
I mean, you can get food delivered to you, and I don't just mean pizza. Chinese, cantonese, Italian, fried chicken ... hell, there's even a kosher food delivery service here. Calorie-packed stuff that takes quite a toll on your wallet and your waistline, which is probably my point. There are many of us who are battling weight issues, and these wonderful ideas of convenience really are just keeping us as a people planted on our asses in front of the TV.
I don't want to go out on a rant, but on my way to work, I witnessed a street hockey game with a bunch of the neighborhood kids, and I did a double take. You never ever see kids out playing hoops, or hockey, or stickball, or outside JUST BEING KIDS anymore. No need to play real baseball ... I have MLB 2004 on Playstation. Fun and entertainment right at your door, no need to venture out.
I'd write more, but my meatball sanwich just arrived. I have to eat quickly, since the pharmacy is dropping off some trojans and warming liquid for me, and the escort service said my redhead should be here within the hour :P
Re: Gay marriage.
I firmly believe that gays should have the same right as straight folk to marry. I do however, always listen to dissenting opinions when they are lucid, and well thought out (not "because they're fags" or "what's next, legalizing beastiality"?) . I post this dissent because it really is the best one yet I have heard, in spite of the fact I disagree with its point. ...
"One wildcard in the election year is gay marriages and how the candidates feel about the issue. Personally, I don’t care if it is Adam and Eve or Adam and Steve. However, I don’t think government ever defined marriage (it was defined several thousand years ago by religion) therefore, I don’t think government should be allowed to redefine it.
I do believe if people want to live together and share health benefits and inheritance, they should be allowed to -- civil unions are the answer to this problem. I believe in separation of church and state, and therefore I think marriage should stay as it is. Both candidates have opposed gay marriages, but the Republicans will try to pin the vote in Massachusetts on John Kerry.
Then again, I couldn’t stay married myself so who am I to talk about it?"
-- John Layfield, former NFL player, guest speaker on of all things, Fox News --
At least it's not hate-based, as I have heard way too often.
My sinus infection is getting the better of me, and it's our loooonnnnggg day at the newspaper tonight. Anybody want to guest blog? E-mail me submissions at dawn [at] caterwauling [dot] com -- just remember, if you're going to be offensive, please be sure to offend everyone equally. ;)
I was listening to the radio this morning, and I heard all kinds of descriptions for the characters in our offices. I was particularly intrigued by "Teflon Man," the guy who comes in three hours late, high-fives the CEO and isn't held accountable for the projects he was supposed to finish a year ago. I have one of them, and I want to murder him. He brags how he flies under the radar and how he's protected from the wrath of the rest of us. I hate people who brag when they have not a goddamned reason to be proud -- I do my job and do it well, but do you see me strutting around like a horny peacock?
My stupid boss, who is out of town, called me today at 10 at our usual meeting time. I didn't pick up the phone. She sounded absolutely confused and asked if I got the new camera for the newspaper. She's as worthless to me when she's hundreds of miles away as she is when she's three doors down from me. Even if she were here, all she would be doing is wasting my time asking inane questions to which she will never comprehend the answers anyway. I put my phone on forward.
We have a new proofer this month for the paper, and all I did was ask him to read it with one eye open -- I said look, all I want you to do is to read it and make sure we can't get sued for anything. So he read the top story and just asked Angie to re-write it. I thought it was really a good story, and it was all based on quotes/facts she obtained from people he told us to interview. But he hated the lead (tough shit) and wanted us to shuffle something upward from the last half of the story. It wasn't a lot of work, but we were stunned for a moment -- we're highly accustomed to people reading the paper and telling us to put commas in places we don't want to put them. We've never gotten REAL feedback on the content before -- it was kind of unnerving.
In fact, what my boss Pussy Demure!TM does in her edits is circles stuff and asks questions in writing. Then she'll give me the proof and say, "Do you have any questions on what I wrote?" So I, of course, say no, I get it. So then she will proceed to go over Every. Little. Punctuation. Mark. in great detail until she is absolutely convinced that I know what she meant by putting, say, a dot where a period should go. *smack*
Have been busy living life instead of just blogging about it. :) How was everyone's weekend? I've missed y'all and will be 'round soon to say howdy!
Quick summary:
1. Took Shan out on Friday night for our first Girls' Night Out since pre-Alex days. We lasted for four hours before Shan was ready to go home and see her precious little girl (that, and she was really tired!). We went to Bennigan's in Springfield (as our old faithful Benny's in Alexandria closed almost a year ago) and wandered over to TGI Friday's. Wow! it was great to be out and about. And I was shocked to find that there are actually some very attractive people in this city!
2. Went with the gang down to Cafe Japone on Saturday night because Arthur Loves Plastic was spinning at a CD release party for "Savage Bliss." The cover of said CD was designed by Scot, the same guy who designs my fabulous newspaper every month. I've had the CD on heavy rotation in my car since then, and I am digging it! If you like downbeat/trance, support your local, friendly artists and buy a CD!. I picked up her compilation CD, "Ten" today, which is a CD full of MP3s of all of her albums. I think all artists should release all their old stuff like this -- it's easier for us who are newer to their music and don't want to buy 10 old albums. :)
2.b. "Queen of the World" came on just as I was pulling into work. The first two lines, "This job is so beneath me/Indignation seizes me" played as I pulled the key out of the ignition. Holy appropriateness, Batman! :)
3. It started raining while we were wandering around Dupont Circle on Saturday, and it's a toss-up to define which one of us was most upset about the precipitation. Actually, I take that back -- with two gay men, two prissy girls and one metrosexual, it just so happens that the metro was the one who was freaking out about how the rain would affect his newly cut-and-styled hair. :) The rest of us knew we were pretty no matter what happened to our hair and makeup!
4. I was wandering around Party City in Springfield yesterday, and I saw all the 30th birthday party favors/invitations in the "Over the Hill" section. Gaah!!! Thank goodness I'm turning back time and only turning 27 this May, or I would've been REALLY upset! ;) Ooh, I also stopped at Borders, and they have sugar-free coffee specialty drinks. Mmm -- Cafe Milano. Woo hoo! It's the little things in life, ya know?
5. It's production week with the newspaper, so I'll be busier than a one-armed coat hanger, especially 'cause we're preparing to leave the state for our annual conference next week. Of course, every day, minute, hour, week, etc. at my work is a P-R-O-D-U-C-T-I-O-N, so it isn't exactly unfamiliar territory. However, after some minor insults from the CEO last week, it was decided that we should upgrade all the Macs in the office to G5s. Yay! His annual evaluation should come around more often! (Maybe it's wrong of me to tie the two together, but the timing couldn't be better. I'll have to remember that if I'm here next year at this time -- save all requests for when he's hoping for a favorable review!)
This hits too close to home, given that I was out doing P.R. for my new business today (a P.R. business, incidentally). Boy, do I have fresh opinions on all of these questions!
If you...
1. ...owned a restaurant, what kind of food would you serve? American food. And some Irish cuisine. Best to bring in the heavy drinkers and then offer nice, filling food for them to munch on before they go out scaring innocent pedestrians. :) But I would at least play different kinds of music and get some theme nights going (music, dancing, food, etc.) to mix shit up and try to attract the customers with money to burn.
2. ...owned a small store, what kind of merchandise would you sell? Probably jewelry. It's cheap and easy to make, and you can sell it at a big profit because people are dumb enough to pay for just about anything that says "hand-crafted." I might also have to specialize in books and coffee, too -- maybe offer Anais Nin/Henry Miller-type books and a damn good latte to help you swallow it!
3. ...wrote a book, what genre would it be? Erotica. Like you couldn't have guessed!
4. ...ran a school, what would you teach? I would teach kids in their mid-teens life skills -- I was a super-smart kid who was bored witless all the time and was never really challenged in my academic work, not to mention that I lacked the common sense gene that could have kept me from running up massive amounts of credit card debt. I'd like to save kids before they fuck things up for themselves like I did -- 'cause I will be paying for my mistakes for at least the next 20 years!
5. ...recorded an album, what kind of music would be on it? Lesbian angst rock, I'm sure, a la Melissa Etheridge, Ani DiFranco and the Lilith Fair genre. Of course, I might have to make some house/techno songs too, because I cannot live with ballads alone -- I'd want to do stuff like Arthur Loves Plastic, whom we happen to be going out to see tomorrow night at Cafe Japone! Come out and join us!!!
Inspired by the impromptu love-fest in Tepper's comment box for Melissa Etheridge love songs, I have to post how I wasted part of my workday (which only ended an hour ago!).
Melissa is playing a four-show stretch at the 9:30 Club. I was listening to 104.1-FM all day, calling in and trying to win tickets. When that effort failed miserably, I decided fuck it, I'm buying a ticket. Even if I had to attend this wondrous event alone.
How much do you think a standing-room-only ticket in a teeny-tiny bar would cost for one lousy two-hour show? $75. With, of course, a $6.50 surcharge, and another $7 for a parking pass.
W. T. F. ?!?!
I debated long and hard about it and decided to forego it. Melissa was the one concert I wanted to see this year (although Shawn keeps trying to persuade me to see Madonna when she comes to town!). My money is scarce and I'm trying to be really careful about not blowing my funds unnecessarily (read: Rent=$900, Car=$400-plus, Student Loans=$400, etc.), but Melissa is worth skipping the $135 Nazi fucks from hell Comcast bill. But NOT for a performance at the friggin' 9:30 Club!
Sheesh -- I went to Lillith Fair -- and I figure the performance room probably wouldn't smell real good after a few hours of body-to-body-packed-ass-room sweating was goin' on! Holy granola, Batman!
Although, I'd have a far better chance of getting laid after the Melissa concert than Madonna! ;)
So, I decided to go to Melissa Etheridge's fan site to see about getting tickets, only that was a worse idea. For a mere $240 (!), you get a show admission and a chance to party with the lady herself. For a mere $1,200, you get to see her for four nights, party with her, get a souvenir poster and hotel accommodations for the week you're in town to see her. For fuck's sake! Like Shan said, for $1,200, I should get to sleep with her too!!!
Ahem.
I have a confession. Before I left Pittsburgh, I had "met" someone online who was as huge a Melissa fan as I, although maybe more so, because he followed her around the tri-state area (not to mention, he is a university professor there -- where did he find the time?). Even though we had never met (and I moved to Alexandria shortly after we started talking), he invited me to go to the concert as his guest (and he had front-fucking-row seats!). I ended up backing out at the last minute (as he never really seemed interested in meeting me for the, oh, YEAR that we were talking online!). My only regret is never seeing the damn show.
In any event, I hope Melissa plays some amphitheatre or stadium shows -- that's the only way I will pay nearly $100 for a ticket!
This image at least took some of the sting out of being humiliated both yesterday and today at work (today was more public -- yesterday my ideas were quietly stolen although I did get some amount of thanks for my proactiveness). I figure they could write me up for insubordination, but how do you punish a staff member for volunteering to do MORE work?
UPDATE Alternate buttons, courtesy of Shan Eliminate Stupid Employees Blow Boss' Mind Give Boss a Clue Get Boss to Use Creative Ideas Enhance Meds Find Better Job Restore Wasted Career Help Me Jesus!
Alternate buttons, courtesy of moi Fumigate Bathroom Stop Nonsense Beat CEO with Cluestick Extinguish Compulsion to Injure Idiots Get Me Off the Short Bus!
This cold is whipping the shit out of me. I am actually coming home, watching TV till I get sleepy, and then going to bed. Of course, be it noted that I am leaving work at 8 p.m. because I'm in editorial hell.
I'm thinking of robbing a bank. Anyone care to join me? Either that, or I need to get a corner somewhere. This job is going to be the end of me -- I keep asking my colleagues to put some padding on my walls so I can happily bounce off of them when my sanity finally snaps!
By the way, I got word from Ireland yesterday that only silly Americans dye their beer green. They don't get it. They drink Guinness and all the dark ales that just don't dye too easily. Of course, my new green drink of choice is the Appletini, so I don't even have to mess with the food coloring anymore. Mmm, Appletini. ...
While I may have an administration here at the Veggie Patch who say they want, but don't really want, my input, I've had a strange influx of requests from the editors on the Veggie Patch Gazette who are suddenly and truly seeking guidance on the shit columns they submit. To the point of asking me repeatedly for feedback.
This astounds me -- I was under the impression that, because they are bigwigs in the Veggie Patch, my job is just to make them sound as coherent as I can, given what I have to work with.
The problem is, though, how do I tell them to quit submitting crap to me and passing it off as brilliant literature? I mean, these columns are SO BAD that even, for as good an editor as I am, I don't know where I can possibly begin to tell them where they went wrong, when the only thing in the story that makes any sense is the byline. :)
The performances have been fairly good tonight, if not a bit on the vanilla side. Who are you voting for? Something tells me I'll give my vote to Jennifer for the third time.
Got my taxes done. I was so sick and stuffy and cranky that I forgot to ask about deductions for health care and moving. Apparently I will get my money back, although the way my relations are going with the student loan company, anything can happen. The student loan people, well, I told them that I can't make their ridiculous payment (it's an 18 percent interest rate, just like on my car, and guess which one I'd rather pay for?), so they told me to make a *full* $400 payment and fill out a form that might or might not be approved for me to get smaller payments. Um, what fucking part of "You either get a smaller payment or no payment from me?" aren't they getting?
Also got screwed in the writing of the letter to the Oscar winner. Frosty the H.R. Queen sent a snooty note thanking me for my input into HER letter! CUNTRAG!!!
OK, so I'm sick and achy and snotty and all that fun stuff, so expect no pleasantness today (and that would be different from when? ... Hah!).
I did want to bitch about the jackass who stole Pentagon building materials and used them to build his own businesses. It sickens me that he started stealing from the government on Sept. 11, 2001, of all the days, like a terrorist of his own kind. I hope they fry this fucker for taking advantage of a wretched situation. Although I do have to admit his restaurant (Tube City in McKeesport) wasn't that bad, but now I'm ashamed I even went there.
1. You reach for your pack of gum at your office desk and accidentally light up a cigarette without realizing what you were doing.
2. You put out the cigarette, reach for your pack of gum, take out a stick and then throw not the wrapper, but the rest of the pack, away. And then, of course, you have to fish the gum package out of the trash can. And the gum is stale and tastes like crap and is way less pleasing than the cigarette you clearly wanted (and should have had!) in the first place!
Is anything going to go right today? Between the ad rep being on the rag and the CEO suddenly asking for my P.R. ideas (for Town Crier and J-Ho of all people to implement them!), I'm ready to resign. Kill me.
I am not as young as I used to be. Cripes, I'm not even 30 yet, and I feel decrepit from one night out. I woke up at 2:30 p.m. and proceeded to do not a goddamned thing for hours. I did clean the bathroom and give myself a foot bath, but that's all I accomplished. It kind of reminds me of the old days -- go out Saturday night and spend Sunday recovering. The problem is that I only had four drinks and danced for four hours. In my "youth," that was only a pre-party! Oh, old age, why have you crept up on me so quickly?
OMG, it's after 5 a.m. and I just got home from my wild night out. My back hurts from driving about 60 miles all told, and my feet are sore from dancing up a storm.
Madonna songs were playing when we entered and left Nation. We did the "Safety Dance" and the "Electric Slide," although my favorite was bopping around to "Cruel Summer," "Let the Music Play," Prince and Kajagoogoo and all kinds of other '80s favorites.
We went to see Mikey dance (and he was fabulous! He really stood out even though he was in a troupe, but he was the lead dancer for most of it and rocked our slouch socks!). We were also treated to a live performance from Milli Vanillithe Pointer Sisters a Pointer Sister. Bonnie, I think. The Pointless Sister, as I called her. She looked like a drag queen. She was in Daisy Dukes and a sparkly titty top. I thought she looked bloated, but Shawn insisted she must've been pregnant. In any event, poor costume choice. *shudder*
She was clearly lip-synching, only there was no, well, synchronicity to the music. She was also doing fan-kicks and nearly got killed by a guy she brought on stage who could kick better than she could. She was in white platform shoes that were clearly too big for her, and we were waiting for her to flip right off the stage. I would have liked to have consumed whatever drugs she was kraked out on, because she was higher than the balcony we were standing on.
Her black pantyhose had a big hole right near the crotch. I suggested to Shawn (who thought it was a drag queen and NOT a Sister -- more like WonderDragWoman, with her wild twirls and shit) that maybe that's the hole where s/he pees out of. We were laughing like idiots, and the guys standing nearby were snickering at our many cracks as well. This clinches it -- we need our own talk radio show, because we were way funnier than any D.J. could have been! Oh, how I LONGED to have my blog fired up for a blow-by-blow!
Nation had a huge-ass Rubik's cube dangling from the ceiling. We rather enjoyed seeing that -- it was far more interesting than the "live" show, that's for sure! I'll bet Bonnie had to pay to get in, and we wondered where the other Sisters were, but they were probably partying down the street at the strip club instead. :)
Needless to say, we got happily trashed before and after the (I'm not kidding) 20-minute show, and we danced like fools on the balcony. And when the management decided to close off our floor, we went downstairs and danced lots more.
I got a rose from a guy selling them. He approached me and tried to get me to have one of my four guy friends buy me one. Um. It's a gay bar. Yeah. Like that was gonna happen. So he came back and tried to HIT ON ME!!! I gave him a fake name, and when he asked where I lived, I knew he was going to say he was from the same place. Sure enough, he said he was from Alexandria. Figures. He also had a glaringly obvious gold wedding ring on his finger, but he proceeded to ask for my phone number so we could go out on a date. I said look, dude, I'm a big flamin' lesbo. And he was gracious enough to not push the issue, but he did give me a beautiful white blooming rose. He even picked off the thorns! I ended up giving the rose to Mikey for his brilliant performance, and he tossed it into the crowd below us so we didn't have to remember Creepy Guy who had provided it in the first place.
On the lower dance floor, I had a guy hugging me and grinding up against me for several songs. I think he had even approached me on the balcony, but I was buzzed and couldn't remember clearly. He was cute -- in a tuxedo shirt and black dress pants. I don't know how it is that I manage to ALWAYS pick up men in that particular bar, but it's entertaining. It definitely took the edge off of seeing an (I assume) drug bust when we walked in. Bah. We did stick to alcohol, although I do forsee a rolling event in my near future, 'cause it's just weird to be at that bar without hallucinogenic substances to make it more amusing. Of course, the music was all wrong for anything but alcohol.
Mikey looked awesome. So did the rest of our crew. We all had a hideous 2003, but it looks like 2004 really is shaping up to be a phenomenal year for all of us. I couldn't get over how many compliments with which the boys were showering me -- apparently I actually seem happy and peaceful. Who'da thunk it? In any event, we all had that "we're-gonna-have-a-great-time-tonight" glow, and that's exactly what we did. It was like a big gay prom, and it was fabulous! A GRRREAATT night indeed!!!
Gettin' ready to see the Pointer Sisters at Nation tonight. In honor of the '80s theme, I have sufficiently ruined curled and fried and teased my hair so much that it looks like it did in my senior high middle school yearbook. I've got the makeup down pat, to the pale lips and dark eye stuff going (but I adamantly refused to put on blue eyeshadow. In a room full of 800 gay men, I can go retro but NOT tacky!!!).
In other words, '80s night down here means that everyone is going to look like a Pittsburgher -- circa 2003. Hah! :)
It's a well-deserved night out, and I'm sure I'm gonna get in trouble. Some people try to avoid it, but I embrace it.
In any event, I've got miles to go (and four cities to hit, most of them twice!) before I sleep. Don't wait up, and hope you have a rockin' Saturday night too!
1. Gemini (and appropriately as bipolar as they come!) 2. Irish (yes, red hair, green eyes, freckles, pale ... the works!) 3. Reared by my darling single mom and my grandparents 4. Currently trying to do the Atkins diet (meat and cheese lovers unite!) 5. Love to talk about sex 6. Love to have sex 7. Need to have more sex 8. Own a Pandora's box of toys and porn 9. Use items in No. 8 regularly. 10. Purchase batteries by the case when in a dry spell 11. Am experiencing a dry spell right now 12. The carpet doesn't match the drapes 13. I prefer to pull up the carpet and maintain hardwood floors during the summer months 14. The color of the drapes changes often, whether with a bottle or with the sun 15. I think Clay Aiken should've won the second season of "American Idol" 16. I can't sing worth a shit 17. I hate to cook, but I can make yummy gourmet treats on a moment's notice 18. I'm a writer and editor by profession 19. I wrote my first book at age 14, called "Ace of Hearts" 20. I started planning a six-book fictional series when I finished the book in No. 19. 21. I started writing the books in No. 20 to be geared toward teen-agers, but my word processor jammed and I could never get the disks to boot -- I lost about 25 chapters of stories. 22. I have kept a box, marked "Bondage Materials," with almost everything I have written since I was in the eighth grade. 23. My diaries from my early years are too painful to read 24. I stopped keeping a diary when I started my blog (Sept. 2001) 25. I started writing poetry in the fifth grade 26. I have written more than 100 poems since then 27. I stopped writing poetry in 2001 28. My poetry is always inspired by heartbreak 29. I would rather hate someone than feel indifferent toward him or her 30. I've felt love for many people, but I've never been in love 31. If you mess with any of my friends, you had better be ready for me to beat your ass 32. I have verbal diarrhea 33. I make lots of crass jokes 34. I am an equal opportunity offender 35. I type 100-130 wpm. And it's accurate except for when I'm drinking 36. I lose my train of thought easily 37. But once I start a project, I go full-speed ahead until it's satisfactory to meet my high standards 38. I can multi-task with the best of them 39. I hate when people refer to themselves in the third person 40. My favorite shows are "Sex and the City," "Six Feet Under" and "Out of Order" 41. I own 360 CDs 42. I have 8 gigabytes worth of songs on my iTunes at work 43. I call my employer Club Medicated, the Veggie Patch and Club Dead 44. I want to start my own party-planning business, called Paint the Town 45. I own the domains www.clubmedicated.com, www.shitshoveler.com (I'd like to make it into a site where people can complain about their jobs, and I'd also like to make a greeting card line for disgruntled employees available on that site) and www.caterwauling.com 46. I am an active volunteer 47. I am an expert fund-raising/public relations professional 48. And I can throw a mean gala event and get even the most mundane corporate occurrences in the news 49. I have a phenomenal Calico cat who's been with me since 1996. She was born April 2 50. But she was an inadvertent gift from my friend Shawn, who asked me to keep her temporarily. I didn't want to give her back. So I didn't. Even though I am allergic to pet hair. 51. I have a black kitten named Kadi who also answers to the name "Short Bus" -- her birthday is June 6, 2003 (and I figure she was born at 6 p.m. -- note all the sixes in that number!) 52. I lived in Pittsburgh for the first 28 years of my life 53. I moved to Alexandria, Va., on a whim after my 28th birthday 54. I'm still in Alexandria and have no plans to leave the area anytime soon 55. I've never seen the ocean 56. I don't know how to swim 57. I call my family "The Mansons" 58. Mom taught me all I know about sex 59. Now I teach her stuff 60. Mom and I purchase vibrators for each other 61. Hers is nicknamed "Tiger Lily" because it's a tiger theme. I do not name my toys 62. I once used a vibrator so much that it broke while it was in use 63. I love fireworks 64. I once designed a holiday ornament that sold in department stores -- it had a fireworks theme 65. 16,000 of those ornaments sold within a three-week period 66. I am a Mac user 67. I'm farsighted but hate to wear my glasses 68. I am agnostic 69. I used to be able to put my ankles behind my ears 70. Jon Bon Jovi is my hero 71. Melissa Etheridge is my idol 72. I never tell people when I have a crush on them 73. Online dating has produced dismal results for me 74. Other forms of dating have been equally dismal thus far, as well 75. I'm terrible at keeping up with my friends 76. But I'd do absolutely anything for my friends 77. I get my nails done every two weeks 78. I'm a moaner 79. I love to kiss 80. I am an experienced stalker 81. Yes, I do sometimes use my powers for good 82. I hate discussing politics, but I do have my passionate issues 83. I've been a Democrat and an Independent, but now I have no party affiliation but I am registered to vote 84. I don't participate in male-bashing; I just trash individual assholes (of any gender) one by one 85. "If you don't have anything nice to say, come sit next to me." (line stolen from "Steel Magnolias") 86. I think women can be even bigger assholes than men 87. I am angered by animal abuse 88. And I get pissed off when human rights and freedoms are in jeopardy 89. I'm in favor of reproductive freedoms and gay marriage 90. I think owning your own business is the only way to be happy in your vocation, but I applaud people who can actually tolerate their employer's semantics and do a good job despite that 91. Lazy people annoy the shit out of me. Pull your fucking load because I am not paid to do your work, too 92. I'm a raving insomniac 93. My favorite scents are eucalyptus-spearmint, sandalwood and patchouli 94. My favorite perfumes are Ralph Lauren Romance, Estee Lauder Intuition, Chopard Casmir, Calvin Klein Obsession and anything else with a vanilla base. Bath & Body Works' warm vanilla sugar line is a regular staple in my powder room. 95. I prefer men's colognes to women's perfumes -- Drakkar, Polo, etc. The blue Softsoap for Men is my favorite and the cobalt blue liquid matches my bathroom 96. Birthday: May 25. The year varies depending which birthday is approaching! 97. I don't drink alcohol much anymore, but I can hold my own with the best of 'em 98. If someone treats me really well, I wonder what they're up to and what they want from me 99. I long for love and passion and can't say I've ever experienced either 100. Love and sex have always been separate in my life, but I hope that changes sometime soon!
I wrote a letter yesterday, trying to contact an actor who won an Oscar recently. This actor said something that directly relates to the work I do, and I wanted an interview. Shan got the actor's publicist's address, and I think I wrote a brilliant, sincere plea for an interview -- the secret, of course, is to congratulate the thespian in question. I've written hundreds of letters like this. Worked most of the time, too. Shan and I had also had a secondary thought of getting the actor to come to our upcoming conference (as we have NO keynote speaker!), but the way shit stalls in upper management around here, we'd be on our 2006 conference before I got approval to send THIS letter!
Well, King Kumquat (Cruise Director of Club Medicated) cornered me today and told me that I am to do absolutely no outreach. "Even though that's your 'thing'," he snarled, seemingly making fun of me for having passion and ability for something other than vegetating for eight hours a day. I was thinking What. The. Fuck?!?! Was he serious? He related it to our upcoming conference, that I am to do nothing for the conference other than my job. "Your job is to be editor of (The Veggie Patch Gazette), not to do outreach for the event." (Hey asshole, I'm also working on the opening ceremonies. Get over it!)
The unfortunate part is that this was witnessed by one of my staff members. You know, normally I would never endorse humiliating someone in front of their staff, but I derived some eerie satisfaction from my staff realizing that I am not making this shit up when I pass along tales of caution -- it's not that I discourage excellence (I accept nothing less) but I do remind my wards that mediocrity is what is rewarded and that innovation gets you patted on the head with a steel spike.
The only thing that makes me feel better was that I was ranting about Cruise Director when he appeared. See, we were contacted two days ago to say, "(Cruise Director) would like to meet with you for 10 or 15 minutes to see how things are going and to get your ideas." Fucking yeah, whatever. Twenty-four hours later, we got our (Cruise Director) annual performance evaluation forms (that they claim are confidential), and one of the many items to rate him on is "Open to New Ideas/Shows Respect For Others and Their Ideas." *snerk* Coincidence that he suddenly wanted to hear our ideas? Fucking bullshit.
Yeah, it's "my thing" to want to do promotions and outreach. But god forbid I do anything that might help this company out of its downward spiral -- god forbid I volunteer my talents and initiative and EXPERIENCE to help this shithole out. He acted like I have a disease that might be contagious -- yeah, as if anyone around here would want to be bitten by any bug that might make them want to do something other than sitting on their asses and playing solitaire!!!
The same questions from March 7, 2003, here to grace us again but hopefully with new answers!
1. What was the last song you heard? "Here Without You," Three Doors Down
2. What were the last two movies you saw? "The Butterfly Effect" and "The Craft"
3. What were the last three things you purchased? Groceries, a pair of shoes and lots of shit from Wallyworld
4. What four things do you need to do this weekend? Clean the bathroom, go see the Pointer Sisters at Nation with the boys (our friend is a backup dancer, so we're really going to see him!), pay bills and masturbate. Although, not in that particular order!
5. Who are the last five people you talked to? Pussy Demure!TM (who is leaving town today and not coming back till April! woo hoo!), Angie, Shan, Ted and a travel agent (to get plane tickets to Kansas City later this month. Yay).
Not quite so juicy as yesterday's. (Huh uh huh huh huh, she said "juicy.") But something to chew on.
Remember the guy I mentioned with the dog? He also owns a 60" Plasma TV. And bragged about it religiously. A la the questions "Carrie" used to ask at the beginning of each episode of "Sex and the City," I have to ask: "Have big-screen TVs replaced the little red sportscars of decades past?"
Granted, I dated a guy with a red sports car who wasn't compensating for anything other than a lack of brains. But whenever I see someone in a penis car, I immediately assume that they're screaming, "Look at my car, not at my dick!" But these days, I hear from way too many guys about how big their televisions are -- something tells me that the bigger the screen, the smaller the ween. Just a thought.
And if you want to know about the guy with the 60" TV, let's just say that either I've got a cavernous pussy (thanks to Shawn for the phrase!) or he buys the KY Jelly special with a free gift of tweezers.
And no, it's not that I'm wearing scandalous underwear. I always wear those. Makes ya feel all happy inside when you've got X-rated guchies on under your work clothes. ;)
In any event, Angie and I have been dutifully avoiding work (like the rest of our colleagues) pretty successfully today (although my revised budget is due within the hour), but I was telling her about guys I've dated who own dogs when it dawned on us that we could help heterosexual women everywhere with a revelation we uncovered.
Let's face it -- we like guys with dogs because it makes the guys look responsible and nurturing and perfectly able to provide care to another creature. Plus, they look so damn cute at the dog park (the men, not always the dogs!) playing with Scruffy or Hunter or whatever they've named the lil darling. We think we've died and gone to heaven to see them playing together. We think they'll play cute with our kids when we have them -- that they're already doting dads who will provide us with lots of affection and loyalty.
But rewind a minute -- I dated a guy (very briefly) who had a dog. As in, "I'd stay the night but I've got to go let the four-pawed wonder out to pee. So let's just fuck and I can leave afterward." Now, for those of you who know me, you know it doesn't break my heart in the least to have the bed to myself. But Angie declared how ingenious it is to own a dog -- you always have a reason to leave. And not to limit it to men, 'cause girls do this shady shit too, but it's so convenient to not have to make up excuses when you want to head for the hills -- what girl WOULDN'T understand that the pet needs its owner more than you need said owner?
Now, I don't mean to dog men in general. In fact, there are some chivalrous types who know how to treat a lady right (to the point of astounding us that people still do that sweet stuff like getting your coat and helping you out of a car and all those other wonderful things that the sexual revolution massacred). Sad to say that I've been with women who are oftentime more kind and considerate in these respects than their male counterparts. In any event, it was refreshing to, for once, not be the one wearin' the pants during the outing. :)
Anyway, Angie asked that we make the "beware of men who own dogs" mantra available to anyone who's interested. Sure, they may love and adore the lil mutts, but that doesn't mean they are going to buy you pretty collars and feed you gourmet food. Nor does it mean you have to sniff their butts and lick their balls and admire their bones. ;)
Go for men with cats. If they love pussy, there's no reason not to love THEM!
Angie and I had a small discussion today about sex (I had told her about getting laid about Thanksgiving two years ago, and even though it wasn't all that good, at least I got my bird stuffed. She liked my terminology!).
Well, I said it's been almost a year since I *got me some* and she reeled back in horror. She was so sympathetic and so very sad for me. I told her she wouldn't have been so bummed if I'd, say, lost a finger or some other appendange, would she? And she said sex was too important to live without and that I need to get me some soon!
No arguments here. None whatsoever! Can I get a witness? :)
Someone I used to know sells million- and billion-dollar bills. They're realistic but nobody in their right mind would mistake them as authentic. Not even your average unwashed, inbred Wal-Mart employee, apparently. I have to give Wallyworld some credit for actually hiring a competent employee for a change!
Subtitle: Giving himself enough rope with which to 'Hung' himself
Big Willy Hung has titled his forthcoming album "The True Idol" -- ironic given what a fucking joke he is. And who wants to hear him sing? Really? I mean, he should just get a video deal -- that's what we loved most about this blathering miscreant. It's just a real shame when there are talented people out there gettin' the shaft from Simon who really DO have a gift to give the world that isn't like an envelope from the Unabomber.
Why god WHY does everything at work require further discussion? I swear, we hold meetings simply for the sake of scheduling more meetings! I just got some paperwork back, along with a note telling me that this was not the proper channel to follow and all I had to do was send an e-mail. I have sent 9 e-mails with no action, so I formalized the fucking process. God motherfucking DAMN it do I HATE depending on other people!!!!!!!!!!
I've been up since 4 a.m. Don't cross me today -- I'm not a pleasant sight. I got up early yesterday and I guess it just kicked in again, only without the help of the alarm. Bah. Only one meeting today (I hope) -- I hate Tuesdays. At some point this month, I would like to do my job instead of talking about it. I mean, jeez, I spend so much time preparing for, and recovering from, meetings (not to mention the time wasted in them!) that I told my boss I could produce a 300-page newspaper every month with the time I could have saved.
I've started keeping a private journal again -- it's nice to be away from the computer. Nothing compares to seeing blue ink in my crappy handwriting in my holographic blue spiral notebook with the silver stars on it. That way, I get to keep most of the madness to myself and not have y'all think I'm as crazy as I really am.
The "American Idol" Wild Card show is on tonight. Woo hoo! My annual tradition is to run a nice hot foot bath and chain-smoke and watch what is usually the besst round in the semi-finals. It's the little things, ya know?
No, I'm not referring to the 150 pairs in my bedroom, but I was on I-395 this morning, and traffic was backed up for miles because there were tons of shoes scattered throughout the three right-hand lanes. Apparently a truck dumped a whole shitload of them in the highway right before I started out. They were kids' sizes mostly, but if I'd seen a cute pair, there was more than enough bottleneck for me to get out of the car and grab a pair!
Spent the day at a print/design seminar in McLean. I realized what a sore loser I am -- there was a drawing for a new Mac G5 (sexy!) and the new Adobe Creative Suite. I lost at both, of course, but I was bitter 'cause a huge newspaper shop got the Mac and my print company got the software and didn't even know if they should take the Mac or Windows version. Argh! I keep begging my company to, if not buy us new computers, at least upgrade the pieces of shit we currently must suffer with. But of course, I found out that even though I am going to finish my budget year at least five to ten grand below what I budgeted (I made extra cuts and am suffering because of it), I don't get to keep that money. Not a penny of it. We have to cover other people who don't know how to stay on (or anywhere near) budget.
In one of my eleven meetings last week, I found out that our slew of furlough days (all of which I worked through, by the way. Unpaid, of course) was proactive, as they bragged. These were scheduled in anticipation of some people (our ridiculous president, for a prime example) blowing their budgets. Gee fuckin' thanks.
You know what -- it's good I didn't win the computer. I couldn't see myself doing anything else with it but taking it home and enjoying it here.
I heard the company wants to finally force one of its more useless employees to leave. This will include an undisclosed amount of money (roughly the equivalent of my salary) as a kind of thanks-for-everything-now-scram bonus. Let's just say that this is the equivalent of four furlough days. And we wonder why I'm bitter!
Other than that, work has been going really well. Although it kind of sucks when I have great off-site meetings like the one today, because they remind me how bad things really are, and it will take me at least four days to forget what life is like outside the castle. Cinderella will go back to her rags and chimney-cleaning, and the rest of the world has great computers and updated software to make their jobs oh so much easier.
I've been trying to eat more healthily this year, but a box of Godiva truffles Mom gave me last week kinda killed that -- I can't have just one. I must consume the whole box. Mmm, truffles. Although Tiff does remind me that people who are on the South Beach Diet may have chocolate. So, like, that's not cheating, then, right?
I haven't lost any weight since I went to Pittsburgh more than a week ago, but I haven't gained any, either. For me, the latter is just as much of an accomplishment as the former.
Shawn and I had a healthy and happy lunch of salads at Panera yesterday, and afterward, Tiff came over for a visit before we went riding in Gustav, her way-cool new green Bug. We decided to round out our day with sweet potato fries with gorgonzola at Capitol City Brewing Company. And of course, who can pass up the hot, soft pretzels they serve all customers, which come with a lovely side of ground mustard/sour cream/horseradish dip? Oh, and hell, since we were there, we ordered dinner. One thing I love about Capitol City (aside from the pretzel dip, the sweet potato fries and the awesome warm chipotle BBQ sauce that comes with the fries, of course!), is that you can order a sandwich and say, "Atkins it!" and you'll get a salad instead of fries and they'll hold the bread. Woo hoo! I think I have officially found a new favorite restaurant -- thanks Tiff! :)
I tried ordering a low-carb wrap at Ruby Tuesday the other day. You can get the salad bar as your side dish, so I did that. And what did those evil bastards do but deliver the wrap with a pile of their delicious peppery french fries? I did succumb to having a handful of them. Damn it.
I'm slowly plowing through the South Beach book. It's almost hard to believe, from my standpoint as a die-hard Atkins conoisseur, that you can have so much stuff on that diet. I mean, sweet potato fries? Chocolate? Bread (albeit whole grain)? Tiramisu?!?! Damn. The only problem I have with South Beach, at this point, is its push to eat low-fat cheese. Nuh uh. Forget that crap -- I eat cheese like it's going out of style, and I like me my fatty cheese. But to have chocolate, maybe I can acquiesce.
I have so much crap in my house, but once in awhile I come across something interesting. Today I found an old vibrator that you fill with water -- hot or cold, depending on the sensation you're seeking. Wow! I can't believe I forgot I owned this treasure! I popped in some fresh batteries and had myself a happy morning.
Do you ever find yourself being so horny that you could just explode?
There was a fantabulous headline in the Chicago Sun-Times yesterday: "Rosie O'Donnell weds, slams Bush." This got much giggling and entertainment value at the Caterwauling hacienda. But the story is nowhere to be found today -- could the editors have finally realized what the masses thought the headline really meant?
1. ...your first grade teacher's name? Raving Bitch Mrs. Dominick. She always called us "People," as in "People, please be quiet. People, we are opening our books. People, I am the wicked witch of Pennsylvania." She annoyed the hell outta me at age 6!
Plus, she was evil. One day, I really had to go to the bathroom, but she wouldn't let me. It was near the end of the schoolday, and she told me to wait till I got home. So, I had to get revenge. Even though I was a little priss, I went back to my seat and peed right there. Ugh. But boy, did I feel better! A few weeks later, the same scenario happened -- she told me I couldn't take the hallpass to go potty and that I should wait till I got home, so I went and peed on the floor again. After that, I ALWAYS got to go to the lavatory when I asked!!!
2. ...your favorite Saturday morning cartoon? You know you're old when the memory of Saturday morning cartoons bring a smile to your face. I always loved "Garfield and Friends" (surprise) but was a loyal follower of "The Smurfs," "The Snorks" (?) and pretty much whatever else was showing. I never slept in on Saturdays back then!
3. ...the name of your very first best friend? I hated pretty much everybody I knew as a kid, and my mom never really let me play with anyone 'cause she's just phobic like that. I guess Judd was my first best friend, in fifth grade, but sometime in our mid-college years, we realized that we thought the other person was a real asshole, and that ended that.
4. ...your favorite breakfast cereal? I haven't had cereal in like years, but I remember in college, we always ate granola cereal smothered in chocolate milk. Mmmm.
5. ...your favorite thing to do after school? Masturbate Mom would give me some kind of treat and park me in front of the TV till dinner was ready, back when I was young. But in later years, I loved going home, locking myself in my bedroom and outlining the novels I planned to write. Hell, I even wrote a book once (when I was 14). It sucks monkey balls, but I loved writing it after dreaming all day in school what I wanted my characters to do.
"American Idol" was just for shit last night. Really. And this is the second week in a row that I've voted for one of the winners, but that's not what I'm annoyed about. Did you catch the camera angles, or, rather, lack thereof? It's like all the videographers were whacking off when someone would say, "Camera Two!" And Camera Two's lens was on the screaming chick's ass or the redheaded boy's eyebrow or someone else's hairline. Ugh. It was like watching "Arrested Development" -- I was nauseated the whole half hour of the program.
Next week's Wild Card show promises to be good -- they brought back people I voted for who lost, although why they picked three out of last night's cesspool is beyond me. I can't believe the 16-year-old Dean Martin crooner was America's top choice last night, but crazier still that the Idol producers didn't bring back Scooter Girl or the chick who sang a song about her gay boyfriend in the Hollywood elimination rounds. Yeah, I know, they only picked people who had already starred in a semi-finals show, but still. It's like listening to mental patients screaming for meds, the talent has been so lacking lately. God.
You all know I am a Melissa Etheridge fan, but after Lisa Wilson YELLED "Come to My Window," I had to delete the song from its heavy iTunes rotation. Seriously, it takes a lot for me to hate a song (usually it happens only after I associate a song with someone I come to abhor), and well, she did it. Congratulations for giving me the heebs, Lisa. Practice before the next time you sing, mmm kay?
It wasn't the four meetings I sat in, of course, that made my day. But a nice dinner with Ted helped to take the edge off.
But I do want to relate some funny conversations during my first meeting:
On the prospect of the restaurant next door finally re-opening, Martha said that, on the side that overlooks Alexandria, couples were always making out in the parking lot after the bar closed. I told her I had been there after hours, but all I remember doing was puking in the parking lot a few times. So she said, "You were one of those people making out, weren't you?" And I had to say, "No comment!" (Aside to the blog: I've made out in that parking lot. The throwing up happened immediately afterward!)
Also on the restaurant, she said something she hated about the place, and I said how I hated all the sleazy guys who went there on Friday nights. So she asked, "What were YOU doing there on Friday nights?" And Scot said, "Picking up sleazy guys, apparently!"
Some people take minutes at meetings. I simply take account of the moments that I didn't want to slit my wrists with the nearest letter opener. :)
The dipshit who hit a car at 4 a.m. on I-95 and dragged the body of the driver, who was changing a flat tire, for eight miles, is claiming he wasn't drunk. And of course he wasn't drunk -- he was coming from Nation. Nobody's drunk there at 4 a.m. All I have to say is that I hope he enjoyed being on X in prison! And his passenger was somebody he only knows as "Eric." I'm sure the kind of rear-ending he did (on the highway) wasn't exactly the kind he WANTED to do that night!!!
I laughed my ASS off when William Hung performed on "American Idol" again tonight! Holy fucking shit -- this kid's got to have something seriously wrong with him! I was pleased, though, that they brought back Martha the little pixie chick from the Air Force -- she was really good and should have made it through instead of all the other drooling nitwits they've had in the semi-finals. But I digress.
For some REAL talent, though, check out the Viking Kittens doing "Gay Bar" -- hysterical!
I haven't posted song lyrics in awhile, but I have this song in my head:
Rainbow Connection By Kermit the Frog
"Why are there so many Songs about rainbows And what's on the other side Rainbows are visions They're only illusions And rainbows have nothing to hide So we've been told and some chose to Believe it But I know they're wrong, wait and see
Someday we'll find it The Rainbow Connection The lovers, the dreamers and me
Who said that every wish Would be heard and answered When wished on the morning star Somebody thought of that And someone believed it And look what it's done so far What's so amazing That keeps us stargazing What so we think we might see
Someday we'll find it That Rainbow Connection The lovers the dreamers and me
Have you been half asleep And have you heard voices I've heard them calling my name Are these the sweet sounds that called The young sailors I think they're one and the same I've heard it too many times to ignore it There's something that I'm supposed to be
Someday we'll find it The Rainbow Connection The lovers, the dreamers and me."
Scot said the best thing to me today: "The more I do, the more I can do." Fucking brilliant, although I tend to expect nothing less from him.
I need to keep that in mind as I am shoveling (bull)shit all day. Shan and I are convinced that most job titles should just be changed to "Shit Shoveler." :)
Paul and Bryan invited me to dinner last night -- they had something special to ask me. They are planning a marriage ceremony for May 15, and Bryan asked me to be the maid of honor. *sniff* I was thrilled! Each of them will have two witnesses at the nuptials, and for lack of better terminology, Shawn and I will be the bridesmaids. :)
OK, here's where I need your help. I volunteered to do the wedding cake. I have yet to find a remotely decent bakery in the Arlington/Alexandria area (not for lack of trying), and I fear that I may have to drive to Pittsburgh to hit Prantl's or the Oakmont Bakery and drive 250 miles with a wedding cake (which I really don't want to do). Where should I go in the D.C. metro area for a good wedding cake?
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
