I don't know where we are going now

It's cold as fuck here, snowing. I just built a fire and have a glass of wine at the ready. What I have on repeat on the stereo, kind of very loud, is a song I played the shit out of last summer, for reasons I'd rather not confess. It reminds me of warmer days and other things.

facebook

I will be much more brief in this post: Do not allow your straight girlfriend to drink whiskey on a Monday night because she will sign you up for a facebook account so she can "write shit on your wall when you are in Dumb City" and "post stupid pictures of you for all my friends to laugh at, like this one! ha! You are so gay in this one, look!"

Jesus, so now I have this damned facebook thing except it's a little too non-anonymous for my taste (you know I love my secret identities!) and all I need now is a myspace and a xanga account and I can relive my young adulthood when we didn't even have computers, much less things like "blogs". Those were called diaries. And they involved pen and paper and candlelight while Pa whittled by the fireplace and Ma fretted over baby Carrie and baby Grace and I practiced writing Mrs. Almonzo Wilder over and over again. In my diary. Fuck, I need a job. And more drugs. And loose women. I do not ask for much.

You can quote me on that

So I agreed to help out a journalist do a story on some old research of mine and I am now regretting that decision. Naturally, he's got a deadline of Monday so the turn around time for fact-checking etc will be short. I told him I'd rather do it all through email than actually talk on the phone (easier to formulate appropriate answers and avoid misquotes) plus I have been incredibly phone-aversive lately. I don't know what it is, it certainly isn't a reflection on the people calling me, I do want to talk to the majority of them, I just..I don't know. I've been turning my phone off and not returning calls. To top off that bit of anti-socialism, today while we were out and about at lunch and browsing at a bookstore, I had a sudden and intensely deep dislike of the human race. That ever happen to you? You're just going about your business when all of a sudden, something sets you off, like say, an arrogant frat boy sitting in the bookstore talking on his cell loudly about how he drinks lots of cranberry juice and I am like what the fuck, I don't give a shit about your bladder infection or whatever the fuck you have you motherfucking goddamned asshole, shut the fuck up! I mean, like that, I am spouting off obscenities in my head like a sailor over something really stupid and directed towards another human being simply for existing. I actually mostly like people. I am very social. I enjoy having conversations. Today, however, I am in the worst mood for no apparent reason and I fear if I am around people, I will possibly end up in the paper under the heading: Mild-mannered Midwestern Gal Suddenly Hates People and Snaps. Subheading: Arson, Plague, and Scathing Bitchery Follow in Her Wake. So to head that whole thing off, I am going out to the garage to sort through shit and cry about the loss of my fabulous workshop, cursing a certain government agency and their stupid openings in stupid Dumb City. Does this make you want to hang with me right now? Come on over and feel my wrath! Actually, I think I just totally need to get laid in a bad way. There, how's that quote for your damned newspaper, printboy?!

ETA: Oh. Duh. Well, that explains yesterday. Someone out there's breathing a sigh of relief because at least now I know I'm not pregnant!

Sundance

I have no words. None. I am too busy figuring out where I want to squeeze in this pix. Stimulus overload.

ps. I would like to note that about 95% of the time, my hair completely and totally looks like Leisha's in this picture. If she put on a baseball hat, we would be twins 100% of the time.

ETA: Apparently, there's a vid out there as well, they make an appearance at the 4 min mark. I heart Gangsta!Gab.

ETA2: I'm putting these here so I can link to them from somewhere else, never mind me! Thanks spazmatik for the gifs.

Oh now I see...

I found this just for you, cheet. ;)




ETA: I recently found out that my literary hero Jean Teasdale is
Not One of Those People.

What up, you loose floozy!

Oh man, so I've been the crack spider's bitch the last couple of days. I just now escaped!

Here is a brief roundup of my activities: two parties (one lame, one not), snow, open house (again), fire, chili, football, mochas, beer, text messages, phone calls (not answered), emails, plans, etc etc etc. Suffice to say, it sounds as uneventful as it was.

So we've got our plans in place to get out to DC next weekend for a week on a house-hunting trip. It will be mostly about finding a place, getting to know the lay of the land, and checking out the area. We're both having a hard time with getting a good grasp on the distances out there. Maps are not helpful either. I know things on the East Coast are all condensed so what would be a couple of hours distance out here is like 15 minutes out there. I've been to DC a fair amount in the past and once or twice took the train between Baltimore/DC. Still, I have no idea what the distances feel like. So most of our trip will be figuring that shit out and getting a feel for the land and people. It will be like our own private expedition to the new land and its mysterious inhabitants!

That's it for now..

ETA: This email just in from my straight girlfriend, A, regarding a nosy secretary at her work.

I just can't believe she had the nerve to ask if I messed with anyone and THEN if I'm loose. HA! Who says "loose" anymore, anyway? I think we should totally bring that word back...

It can make you gack

So it's kinda crazy here, we're having this damn open house today to try to get someone to buy this awesome place so we (I) have to clean the shit out of the it and then haul the dogs off to god knows where for 2 hours. I spent much of yesterday cleaning. I will spend the next 3 hours cleaning. It's not that we're that dirty, but you know how people are when they're looking at your place with intent to buy: "My god! Did they really choose that awful green patterned duck wallpaper for this bathroom? No way I could live here!" (For the record, no we didn't. The elderly gentleman who lived here before picked it out, blame him, gdamn it!)

Anyway, one of the tasks we're going to do while we're out of the house is take the dogs to the vet for some maintanance. I regret what I am about to tell you because it is graphic and gross but I trust you will look away if you must. These two black dogs that we have are the only dogs I've ever had (and I've had several over my lifetime) who had a problem with the proper workings of their anal sacs. Look away now! See, usually, dogs just naturally...expel...what we refer to as "The Funk" from these sacs when they go about their business. But sometimes, that does not happen like it should. Look away! So they get filled up and then they will leak at random times when you are not expecting it, like before an open house. And you will go: Wait, what's that sme...oh. Anal sac. I shall not describe the smell and only say that this is something humans do not find very pleasant. When that happens with any regularity, one must take their dogs into the vet for a procedure I am all too happy to pay nine bucks for. Look away! The vet will insert his finger into the dog's anal area and squeeze these sacs until they empty. Yes, it is as nasty as it sounds. And thank fucking god someone can be paid to do it! Good times, good times. The Agent and I have, over the years, developed a little rap type song we sing whenever one of the dogs has this issue. Here are a couple of samples for your pleasure:

What's so strong
it'll make you gack?
It's anal sac! Anal sac!

Got a smell that'll
make you step back?
It's anal sac! Anal sac!

Trust me, this will stick in your brain for days if you dare sing it. I plan to use it as a spoken word piece in my next video. Look away!

Finally, we are supposed to get snow tonight/tomorrow. I say "supposed" to get snow because everytime they say it will be anything over 5 inches, it's only ever 1 or 2. Kinda like a guy (or so says my straight girlfriend). I'm hoping for big inches but we will see. It looks potentially promising:

oh la la!

So I have finally received word from my French friend. Her name ends, not surprisingly, in "ine" as do all good French names that I have heard. She actually uses the expression "oh la la!", I always thought that was a myth. It is not. I already mentioned how she lived with me for a couple of months on a post-doc situation and then when I was over visting Old Europe (tm Rumsfeld), she escorted me about, translating and ordering us wine and smoking cigarettes. I love her and miss her and had not heard from her in many months. While she was here, she lived on only coffee and cigarettes and American beer, as far as I could tell. This is why she was like, 90lbs or something crazy like that. The year she was here, there was some serious March Madness going on in this college town because the team had reached the finals. We had perhaps consumed a large quantity of beverages and the main street downtown was crazy crowded with cars and people. It was like you see on those Police Video shows where college kids riot after winning a big game (only of course, there was no riot here, just thousands of happy shiny people out and about at 10pm on a weeknight). My favorite memory of my little French Fry (aside from the turtle incident) is her and I holding hands and running down the middle of the street while cars were at a standstill in the biggest street party ever and we were high-fiving any/everyone. Everyone was caught up in this crazy energy and laughing and I have never seen so many people in one place in this town. We would stop and drink our beers we had hid in our coats with strangers in the middle of the street and we ended up running from 15th street all the way to 6th. We got a beer at the brewery and ran back the way we came, high-fiving all the way. I had to teach her how to high-five on the fly, apparently it is not done in France. She kept missing people's hands and laughed each time. I will never forget how much we smiled that night and hugged and held hands and she was saying 'oh la la!" all the way there and back. It was the best night. I think she maybe even fell in love with me a little, during that time. She has a new house now with her girlfriend and they both are college professors in a French college town and I doubt they have March Madness there, but I hope when that time of year comes around, she remembers holding my hand and laughing for blocks and blocks. I know I do.

BSG = wee!

On a completely unrelated note, we did manage to watch every single BSG episode from the last two seasons and are now caught up. The only problem is that we can no longer remember what's happening in S3..which starts up again this Sun. Yay! And this is what I'm talking about. Hot Starbuck action..





And I so want this jacket:

Wax on, wax off

So remember when I went with The Agent for her hair cut b/c I wanted to get coffee and make an appt of my own? Yes, I assume such mundane events in my life are memorable to someone other than myself, which is totally not true. Anyway, my hair appt was yesterday and my love for my hair consultant Roxanne is legendary. God, I just want to pack her up and move her with us to DC. You know how hard it is to find a hair person you can trust. Especially one who is totally sexy and do-able. I love her. My eyebrows have never known a waxing like the one she gave me again. My hair, with its subtle layering and perfect lift, will never look right again. Who else will let me sit in their chair, discuss booze and drugs and sex, and play with my hair? My therapist never played with my hair. Only Roxanne. I miss her already.

Wind chill X 2

So it's not February, but this song is going through my head today, this part esp:

First we forgot where we'd planted those bulbs last year,
Then we forgot that we'd planted at all,
Then we forgot what plants are altogether,
and I blamed you for my freezing and forgetting and
The nights were long and cold and scary,
Can we live through February?


February - Dar Wiliams

Snow Dogs!

Here is my first full-length feature film. I think I'll call it Dances with Dogs and submit it to Sundance. There is angst and drama and most importantly, an ice/snow storm. You'll note the nuanced work by one of the stars, who you might recognize from her work in a series of performance pieces in the 70's when she and her co-star recreated scenes from obscure French films, with puppets. Those were crazy times, when opium was prevalent and our bodies were much more limber. But I digress..enough talk, let's see some action around here.



I've got a couple of other shorts exploring the same themes. Yeah, this is some serious Merchant Ivory material, it's true. Just waiting for them to upload and you will be the first to see my directorial debut.

ETA: A spoken word piece.



ETA 2: Go get 'em!

DC

At coffee this morning, A asked me: "Are you still going to move to Washington, Dumb City or what?" I told her: "Duh, no, I am moving to Washington, Dong City." She said: "Fine". I said: "Fine". The end.

Gotta fix my weave and holla!

A couple of things in no particular order:

It was 60 degrees here yesterday. Today it is 11 and sleeting/snowing/icing. Fire tonight!

The Agent has misplaced the combination to our safe sometime around our last move. As you know, she is a stickler for safety and such. If I weren't living here, she'd have a gun secreted away in every room for easy access to guard against intruders. Anyway, we keep our impt paps in the safe and I also put a few things I didn't want destroyed in a fire (remember when I briefly considered simply burning down the house when I realized how much stuff we had to move?). She has no idea where she put the combination and (unusual for me) I apparently never bothered to write it down somewhere. She did not take the lock picking and safe busting course so we are up shit creek for awhile until it turns up. Hopefully, I won't need my birth certificate anytime soon.

ETA (1/16): Combination located! You can now rest easy knowing our important papers and my mom's handcrafted Christmas ornament are safe and accessible. Carry on!

I had a much needed chiropractic adjustment this afternoon..a two week long headache convinced me that it was my neck out of whack so there was adjusting and cracking. It was heaven.

While I was out/about, I of course stopped and got a double mocha and also decided to rent yet another Battlestar Galactica disc. As you know, we have been slowly plodding our way through the past two seasons and right now, we are on Season 2.5, Disc 2. As god is my witness, we will make it through Season 2 before we move, and hopefully, before 3.5 starts! This is why I am reluctant to get involved in too many shows, the commitment is too great. All I have to say is that if the rumors going on about my beloved Starbuck are true, I shall be mightily disappointed. If I watched 3 seasons and lost my object d'lust, I will kick some frakking ass. I do not kid about that. Aside: The blooper video on that link is HI-fucking-larious! I laughed and laughed..

Apropos of nothing, but Jesus H. Christ, how can people actually pay attention to anything Giada De Laurentiis cooks with that kind of cleavage going on? You know I love my Food Network peeps, but Giada is killing me with the decolletage. We've already established my appreciation for all things mammary, but lord, how can I learn Everyday Italian if I can't focus on the food?

Finally, The Agent has an appointment with my beloved Roxanne tomorrow morn. I'm going along for the ride to not only make my own appointment to see her (my hair has grown to ponytail length and is a little too wild for public consumption), but also to meet A for coffee while we wait for gf to get her hair did.

On that note, I will leave with words of wisdom from the great Missy "Misdemeanor" Elliott:

What's up motherfuckers?
I need to know is V-A up in this bitch?
New York, St. Louis, Chicago, Philly, LA, Atlanta
I'm diggin' that
But how about the ladies that got a head full of fake weave or braids
Holla at ya peoples
Oh! C'mon

Ooh baby let me fix my weave
Touch me up and let me fix my weave
You could pick me up about a quarter to 3
Before I walk in the club I gotta fix my weave
(Oh) Baby fix my weave
Baby baby let me fix my weave
On the highway I do above 90
(woo-woo) pull me over get the fake ID

I met a guy named Tommy
Very charming
He was on me like cheese be on macaroni
His game real tight making me so horny
Fine enough for us to fuck and be his baby mommy
You really don't know me
So I moves it slowly
Brush up and let him hold me
Let me spit some baloney
Baby you could call me
If you go down on me
But you got to back up off me
Wearing cubic zirconia
I told him, "Baby let me fix my weave
I got a hair out of place and use a fake ID."
Pepe LePew voulez vous ooh oui
You want to misdemeanor me
You gotta spend more G's (ohhwee)

Ooh baby let me fix my weave
Touch me up and let me fix my weave
You could pick me up about a quarter to 3
Before I walk in the club I gotta fix my weave
(Oohwee) Baby fix my weave
Baby baby let me fix my weave
On the highway I do above 90
(woo-woo) pull me over get the fake ID

I used to date a guy named Chris
Sloppy with his kiss
But he was good with his tongue
I called him Mr. Young One
Mr. Young One had a big ding-dong
Balls the size of ping-pong
I had him souped like won-ton
I put the beat on
And on my ass he skeet on
I put the heat on young gun
Fresh meat he season
Yes, yes we used to creep down the beach
He was insane like Rick James
And with a mask he's Superfreak
I told him, "Gimme cash to fix my weave
And I don't want no excuses 'bout your baby mommy
'cause your child support money don't fix my weave
and you know nigga please me no fuck for free."

To the heavy weave cities
Miami, Jersey, D.C., the Carolinas, Detroit, Louisville, Ohio, to all the
projects
To the beauty salons, and curling irons stitching in that hair
Okay, oohwee yeah fix your weave
Straight up like a perm you heard

The wheels on the wagon go round and round

Mon dieu!* I missed a phone call from Vivvy and The Mrs tonight! How did that happen?? Oh, here's why: I have my phone on vibrate. Not for prurient reasons (though they would appreciate that), but because I had a lunch meeting and forgot to change the setting. Nice. I probably missed a delicious boobie conversation! I am sad. I know you only get like one phone call a day from Betty Ford so I am sorry to have missed it. I can only wish that we might exchange pleasantries this weekend when I call you back. I must hear of your Big Apple exploits ASAP!

So speaking of rehab, as you know, the last couple of months I've been riding around on my little wagon feeling all sober and stuff. It's been good, the pounds drop off like nothing when you stop drinking and are crazy exercising. I did the whole cold turkey thing too - if I give any of my vices an inch, they take a mile. But yesterday, as I was having my hallucinogenic coffee downtown, my friend J walks by and pretty much forced me to go next door to the brewery. For beer. Because now that I'm moving, apparently that means that hello, I only have a little time left to cuss/discuss with my peeps and those activities require lubrication. So I shall be giving in a little bit more to temptation in the name of solidarity. I am hoping not to go overboard and get all drunky left/right but such is the state of my vice. As such, last night also involved some red wine and maybe a little dancing was done. This morning I remembered the headaches associated. Good times! The only downside to my little slide was some loose lip action. I might have mentioned to A that she was the topic of a post or 8 on here. And then I had to backtrack a bit because this blog is a little undercover (like, even The Agent knows nothing and she's trained in interrogation techniques) and it was a slippery slope. All because of the booze! You cannot keep secrets when you are drunk, duh.


*I'm currently trying to work this phrase into my life -I need more expressions for being aghast and taken aback by something.

I'm legally high!

On my third cup of coffee right now, sitting downtown at the Taz, and filling out some serious government job applications. God, if I had known I could breeze through bureaucracy with the ease and carefree abandon I currently feel, I'd have mainlined Sumatran beans long ago. I wonder if one could snort ground expresso off a stripper's ass or would that be unseemly? So, yes, sending out resumes and jumping through hoops. I see pretty colors! Oh, shiny object! Cute young things walking by! My insanely huge iMix tunes! Coffee! Jobs! Heart murmur? Nervous twitching? Shake it off! Legal vices rule!

Outfield

Jumping in quickly to say that I cannot stop listening to The Butchies cover of Your Love. It's killing me. Softly. Yeah, it's been out awhile, but where was I? No clue.


(Note: If I were the admitting kind, I'd make mention that I saw The Outfield open for Bon Jovi sometime back in the 80's...)

Word Up

Ok, you've probably already seen this and I have no idea what the hell or if this Girltrash business is even going to be any good, but you know I'm going to be checking in if only for these two. GC attempting to be all bad girl? Sign me up!

Gabrielle Christian

And of course:

Mandy Musgrave

(Ok, secretly? I never know which one I want more. Or how pervy I am for being twice 1.72 and 1.90 times their age.)

I'm thinking of a Letter..

So, did I miss something last night? What's all this chatter about Words and such? Yeah, so I'm the only lesbian who didn't watch The L Word and apparently there's nothing sadder than a lesbian who missed that show, except maybe a sad lesbian clown (tm Audrey Penney). Anyway, yes, we missed it. We were eh after last season and when we moved here, we decided not to get any premium channels and since we didn't get invited to any Michigan Kitty parties, we did not watch it. I understand there was no hot girl on girl action so I'm thinking I need not rush out to Torrent or YouTube and catch it. I'll wait for some money shots, thanks!

I'm currently in my underpants (if you must know) trying to get this house cleaned up because we're having appraisers and real estate people coming over in like 1 hour and all that domestic stuff like vacuuming and scrubbing gets me hot. I wish it were sexier than that, but sadly, no. I had to take a beverage break and cool down. So apparently, what's going to happen with this whole Oh Shit We're Moving Business is that The Agent and I are going to freak out at different intervals and about different stuff. Currently, I am attempting to talk her down from her Where Are We Going To Live ledge that she climbed on to this morning. Government bureaucracy drives people to insanity apparently. I'm less concerned about that side of things and more freaked about What Are We Going To Do With All This Shit side. And the Fuck We Gotta Keep The House Clean All The Time, Goddammit issue as well. I shall not whine more about it because I'm actually in a calm, easy going frame of mind today and do not want to get up on my ledge.

Ok, that's all I have time for -- telling you about the rash that I developed over my entire body after my whole folliculitis/antibiotic episode will simply have to wait until I can fit it in or you can find the time to care, neither of which I expect to happen.

Later..

Your Guide to Gay-Straight Girlfriendship

Ok, so I've mentioned my friend A here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and if you were lucky and quick enough, here. What I failed to mention is that she is my straight girlfriend and I am her gay girlfriend. Our relationship is completely platonic, completely codependent, and we both bitch about how each of us never put out for the other. Do you have a straight girlfriend too? Is she impossibly femme and you less inclined to purchase matching bra/panty sets (but appreciative of said sets nonetheless)? Do you bicker like an old married couple? Does she date only athletic black men and do you have your own girlfriend at home? If so, you have a straight girlfriend and you know exactly what I'm talking about.

One of the reasons my friend A is all sobby these days is because she believes that she will never be able to replace me as her gay girlfriend when I leave. Which is very true. I don't like to toot my own horn (much!) but I do not think she will find another gay woman who will put up with her shit like I do. Straight girls (god love 'em) are HIGH maintenance and my friend A in particular, puts the HI into HIGH. So, our goal for the next two months is to find her a gay girlfriend. Pickins' are slim around here so I have a feeling she will be without the practical skills I brought into the relationship. I worry. So I've put together a little checklist of abilities and qualities I am looking for in my replacement. Putting it out here on the internets in advance of my departure is just the kind of forward-thinking we're looking for in a gay girlfriend. These are just suggestions and some are very A-specific, but can also be used as a guide for others looking to replace themselves in a gay-straight platonic girlfriendship should the need arise.

A Gay Girl's Guide to Being Your Straight Friend's Gay Girlfriend

1. Be willing and able to discuss the finer points of heterosexualPIV sex. This includes having no problem discussing size and quality of male appendages (all three parts of it, it's a set). However, feel free to make variations of the following remarks when appropriate: "Well, as you know, my girlfriend and I never have that problem..." or "Hmmm, most women I've been with are actually quite good at that.." or "Wow. Yeah. That is exactly why I love pussy instead. Good luck!".

2. Be willing to discuss the following purchases in great detail: clothes, underwear, dishware, shoes - seriously, lots of shoes, jewelry, anything. If asked an opinion regarding any purchase or potential purchase, be decisive and stick with it. No wishy-washiness on potential choices, this only breeds indecision and thus, expends a great deal of time re-evaluating the purchase or potential purchase. You are there to be The Decider so decide!

3. Cock-block and obfuscate potential skeevy dudes from hitting on your straight girlfriend. While your goal is to help her get laid and thus, stop her from whining about how she's not getting laid every time you see her, you must be choosy about whom she whores around with or that will become an endless point of subsequent processing and discussion. Pretend to be the pissed off girlfriend whose girlfriend is getting hit on by a guy. If that fails, feel free to pull guy aside and mention friend's recurring case of The Itch and Burn. You are not besmirching her reputation - drastic times call for drastic measures. She will understand the next day when you don't tell her.

4. Agree that saying the word "jizz" outloud never gets old.

5. In fact, develop a business plan around marketing jizz-related items on the internet because who doesn't love a little jizz? Oh right, the lesbians, but fuck them, they're not our market anyway. Cum Queen on a t-shirt? You bet! Pearl necklaces? Big sellers!

6. Be an active participant in the repetition and creation of new phrases and words. Boozebian (straight girl until drunk, then gay for the night!); Strai (reclaiming the word "gay" from the phrase "That is so gay" and replacing it with a shortened version of "straight"..now it's something that's gayer than gay, it's strai!); and current favorite saying on heavy rotation: I don't even know you anymore.

7. Do not, I repeat, do not under any circumstances sleep with your straight girlfriend. This defeats the entire purpose, for god's sake.

8. However, do acknowledge, when pressed by her (because she will ask), that your straight girlfriend is hot and sure, if you had to sleep with her, fine, you would consider it but you are not going to do it no matter how much booze is involved and/or how nice her rack is or any other reason she may throw out there.

9. Deal with emotional outbursts and sobs by trying not to say outloud "I get this shit enough from my girlfriend!" This will only exacerbate the problem.

10. Together, devise an elaborate plan to get straight friend impregnated by a star athlete or by pimping her out to lonely old rich men with dream of living in the style of which you've become accustomed. Be only half-joking.

11. Receive and send text messages all hours day/night with such gems as "Stop bothering me", "What do you want?", "I am too busy for this", "You are so strai", "Fine", "Fine", "Goodbye".

12. Be willing to accept that your relationship will look and sound odd to outsiders who will not understand the complexity of gay-straight girlfriendship. This isn't a lifestyle choice, this is a career and hobby. Did people give Will and Grace this kind of shit? I think not, so tell them to step back.

13. Your necessary mantra: patience, patience, patience.


ETA 14. You must be able and willing to answer any/all email sent during the day, like the one you just received from said girlfriend about some phone call she got last night:

the woman answered, said she was with this service that basically
would say whatever the impaired person said, blah, blah...then she
said, "I saw your name on a bathroom wall and it said to call for a
good time..." I was like WHAT THE H*LL?!?!?! I guess she must have
typed that because then she said something about "blah, blah, ass..."
or something like that. I had the phone away from my ear. I then said
i don't won't to talk to this person, asked her what was going on,
and she said, "D-O-N-G...do you want it?" I hung up. She read it in
this dead-pan voice. It really freaked me out. Oh, and at the
beginning, I asked who it was...she said she didn't know and couldn't
tell me.

ETA 15. Decide to use DONG more and often.

Little Billy

A couple of things...

First, Death Cab's song What Sarah Said is going through my head today like nobody's business. I'm stuck on the phrase "just nervous pacers bracing for bad news". It's not like it's particularly relevant right now to me or anything, but who can say why songs lodge in one's head and stay awhile.

Second, the weight of the impending move is starting to fall on me and my friends here. I suspect they are still a little disbelieving that I will actually go, but I already have heard in my own head things like "This might be the last time I..." and that makes it real for me. When I finished grad school, I left here for a job out on the east coast and I had the same 'last time' feeling. I'm really very much the type of person who likes to stay grounded someplace solid, so there's always a bit of me that's apprehensive about moving away from what I have grown to consider home. I've almost lived here longer than I lived back home in IN. That's why I'm trying to incorporate my Embrace Change resolution/mantra. Change is necessary, it will be an adventure, DC will be very cool, etc. Still there's the letting go and that has started and I'm doing my best not to freak out. My friend A has already gotten all sobby on me and we're still two months from departing. So I'm doing about a million things, job hunting from half the country away, pondering what shit we can/cannot take, etc etc. Whatever. Ok, done with that for now. I hope I don't get all (any more?) whiny on here about this and if I do, you're cleared to shoot.

Third, I am happy to report that my folliculitis of the nose is clearing up nicely so thank you for your thoughts and prayers. I think Miss Snarker's concern put us over the top and we reached our goal of raising greater awareness of the dangers of placing objects within one's nose. If only one person learns a lesson through my sacrifice, I feel my job here is done.

(Confidential to Vivvy: Speaking of my touch with all things medical, I will always remember with fondness the time I extracted a small Egyptian urn from one of your orifi after we finally fled Alexandria, sweetie. I was leery of your smuggling operation, but you insisted you had the ..capacity.. for greatness in those days. Greatness indeed, darling. Partial credit to the Mrs for expanding your horizons so thoroughly!)

Finally, it is with sadness that I must report the passing of Little Billy. You may recall that a friend of mine has a goat farm. At our New Year's Day thing, they broke the news of his passing and it was a gruesome death I am sad to say. Apparently, the bigger one, Scroat Billy, and Little Billy had gotten together in the same pen and by some twist of fate, Scroat Billy got his horns hooked into the harness around Little Billy's neck and chest..the harness that puts paint on the backs of the Nannies after they have successfully "made magic" together. The result was apparently neck twisty and bloody *sigh* We drank one for Little Billy and one for our homies.

Peace out.

Change change change

Here is a recipe for being just a little tipsy on New Year's Day while having been completely sober New Year's night. First, kinda be on the wagon. Second, have exactly one small drink the entire night of New Year's Eve while everyone around you is sloshed, like seriously, but that's cool b/c they're your friends and we're having fun, and then stay at said friends' house and get in bed at 3am but not sleep, at all, because you can't and you have to get up at 6am for the annual New Years Day pagan sunrise ritual. Third, since said ritual involves no fewer than 10 bottles of champagne and champagne really isn't all that boozy like Knob Creek or anything hence it's really not "drinking", drink champagne. Lots of it. In the morning after no sleep. Have gf drag you back home at noon and take 4 hour nap and wake up with a headache. Good times, good times!

It was all good though. We had a great time and The Agent even came out, which she never does on NYE. She went back home though at 10:30 after her limit of socializing was met. There was good food, good music, a fire, and unlike the last couple of NYs, I was spending it with people I liked and wanted to hang with so I consider it a good one. And the morning bfast and burning of regrets was great too. I'm not sure where I'll be next year at this time, but I'm going to count this NYE as one of the better ones I've had.

I have also made a NY resolution I think I can handle: Embrace change and be happy.

Hope yours rocked too.