Suddenly everything has changed

So July has basically happened. Here is a random list of things from this month:

1. I was on a shaky carny Bullet ride with an 11 year old boy who freaked out when we reached the top and screamed bloody murder to be let off. All of Akron heard his freak.

2. I caught an 8 inch rock bass in Big Long Lake and released it. Limit is 15 inches because clearly the lake is a size queen.

3. I drank shitty beer at a brewery in Jefferson City MO while a bunch of suburban middle-aged hipsters (such as) played in a bocce ball tourney and had cutesy/ironic shirts with team names like Rolling Balls of Thunder and Bocce-celli Girls.

4. I went to a Cubs/Nats baseball game. It was as boring as I remember baseball being. I'm instituting a 5 inning rule in the event that I am taken to any subsequent games. Five innings is just enough time to have a hotdog, a few beers, scope the crowd for hotties, and be done before the crowds leave and you are stuck at Navy Yard in a throng of people with no way out of the Metro and about to lose your mind.

5. Divorced Blackberry and am sleeping with iPhone. I like like it, but I'm not in love with it. Yet. So I'm kinda seeing them both and neither one knows.

6. I have discovered a new species of Evaluati Whinerous. As a member of that phylum, I understand the sentiment, but cannot abide by the insufferable kvetching of that genus. My patience has run thin so pull yourselves together and buck up!

7. My new Boos Block cutting board probably makes me happier than it should. I did not realize that they are made in Effingham IL, which as you all know, is home to one big-ass highway Jesus cross. I will not hold this against my cutting board however.

8. Here is a brief text exchange that occurred yesterday with my strai friend A:

A: I don't think you even want to know what i did last night

Me: You better just tell me because I'm probably the only one who won't judge.

A: Well there was no coke but...

A: Sad and lots of boobs.

Me: Did you go to a strip club?

A: Uh yes.

Me: That is sad. Who did you go with and where? Or more impt, why?

A: That's what I'd like to know. It was not fun.

The end.

dear chicago/nyc/tampa/wherever

Holla <--- which is something I haven't said in a long time, gonna bring that back, yo.

So I've clearly been distracted (with what? I do not know) and as such, have not bothered to blog about it. I can twitpic the hell out of Showing Snarker My Cocktail because she asks so nicely, but topics for blogging are not forthcoming it seems. I haven't seen any poop on the metro since my ill-fated encounter with a 'rotten banana' so that pretty much limits things right there.

So what have I been doing besides drinking? That is a very good question and the answer is this: working, walking the dogs, traveling, being gay. That basically sums up my life these past few months. Sad but true. I was in Florida last week and it was hot and rainy and people were trying to bullshit me (< -- which is what about 68% of my work life is about, people saying one thing and reality being another). I did get to visit my Aunt Ruby (aside: Who does not have an Aunt Ruby is my question) and she made Louisiana style red beans and rice which is about the only cajun food I like. It was tasty and also gassy but that is the price you pay to spend time with your AR. But boy howdy, my aunt and my cousin are so Republican and conservative that the only thing we agreed on was that the sky was a bluish color. Regardless, it was good to see her since she's quite old (in her 80s I think). Also I did broker a little side consulting work while I was there with some of the bullshit/reality ppl. 75 bucks an hour is the going rate, FYI. High priced Robo-hooker = me now.

What else? Well, I will be taking a trip up to New York City for work on Thurs and also to participate in the revival of Miss Vivian Darkbloom's one-woman/two-donkey show being held at the Macelli Supper Club in Brooklyn. I will reprise my role as 'Girl Sitting in Club Smoking a Cigar with Insouciance' and also help wrangle Sid and Nancy (the donkeys). It will be a grande time and I am much looking forward to it. Vivian and the Mrs are quite the hostesses, the absinthe runs freely at their urban bungalow, I must say. Oh I will be twitpicing it, trust me.

And then, finally, next week: A trip to Chicago. Which hello, you know, I love that place. I can only hope I have wised up from the last time = out until 5am and feeling like shit at an 8am meeting. FYI this is something you do not want to do, particularly if you are not as young as you used to be which I am not. I will however be repeating my trip to Tuscany for dinner, trust.

Ok, I think that's it. Rinse/repeat and the beat goes on.

ps. Sometimes I wish I didn't like Ryan Adams so much, but there you go.

I'm a few years older than you..

Let us just say that as a consequence of being in Kentucky for much of the week, the following is true:

1. I am now sick, like with a head cold
2. I seem to have a knack for finding free booze
3. I am apparently a cougar

Let me back up. I'm not actually a cougar, the feeling isn't mutual. I hate to break it to the two young 24 year old Kentucky boys hitting on my (older) friend and I, but I'm no Demi (and hello, they definitely aren't my type). Here is a sample of the lines that were thrown our way and no I am not kidding:

"Girls our age aren't interesting to talk to, they're not deep like you probably are"

"I've always been a feminist, objectifying women simply perpetuates gender stereotypes about men and women"

"I'm more interested in getting to know you as a person, but if you offered, I'd go back to your hotel room"

Needless to say, we did not offer. But I do have to give them props for trying. My friend was like "I am old enough to be your mother, are you crazy?" And granted, if I had pulled a Juno, I probably could have been their mom too which is really starting to freak me out about now. Age ain't nothing but a number = what I am trying to tell myself.

And with that, I am off to watch that way old guy debate the young guy. Good times!

ps. And a special happy bday shout-out to my favorite cougar and fellow Libran, Miss Vivian Darkbloom without whom I am nothing. Darling, I'll always bust you out of Betty Ford with a bottle of Stoli and a blunt from your homies. Did you receive the pair of thong panties I had LiLo sign for you?? What I had to go through to get them, you will not want to know. May they keep you warm at night, sweetie! Hope your bday was grand!

I got your cotton crown

Hello to you too. First, I can't believe it's only Tues. I feel like it's been two weeks crammed into 48 hours. Long long days and the pleasing balm of the Midwest is starting to wear off. Remember when I was all like, "Oh people are ok, the city is liveable I guess, it ain't no big thang" when I got back from my vacation? Yeah, that was nice. Apparently, a dose of the MW only lasts me 31 days. It's kinda like forgetting you're a gal until that fateful day in 7th grade when you are wearing white pants and whoops, your 31 day cycle is up, hello real world - time for the menstrual hut! Which, honestly, does not sound so bad, at least I'd be left alone.

Yeah I went there, but trust me, I have been reduced to being brutally honest and frank. This means that I am going to have to play the bad guy this week and call out someone who's ego is larger than his skillset. There is a 3 year bubble after someone receives a PhD that makes them truly insufferable. The sense of entitlement and know-it-allness without any real experience is irksome. I was that way myself when I was a wee young thing, but now I will not tolerate that kind of bullshit. So yeah, if I question whether you know your shit, it's probably because you haven't shown me anything to prove otherwise and those letters after your name aren't going to make it so. Yeah. You know, I don't have a problem being direct, but man. It just takes energy that I could spend on other things. Like reading a book. Or learning French. Or buying strippers and cocaine.

Don't mind me, I'm about to be reminded that I'm a woman! Goodnight to you!

ps. Vivvy, I say to you: I share your appreciation for the semicolon; however, I am more enamored of the ellipsis...

Promises: The musical!

Well the inevitable has happened: My Promises bunkmate Viv has been kicked out of Yaddo (again) for trying to sneak a Skidmore co-ed into her room after curfew (again). Apparently Patty Highsmith's detailed instructions about such activities are no longer legible on the gin-soaked napkin my dear friend keeps tucked in her bosom. Pity.

But Yaddo's loss is our gain! Yes, your friend and mine has chosen to summer this weekend in the District. With Lilo and Sam in NYC this weekend, V felt it best to escape the media circus that would have ensued upon her return -- it is a little known fact that Linds' infamous cokepants were in fact a pair of Vivvy's capris she had indiscreetly left behind in Sam's dj booth last year. Quel le scandal!

Our tour schedules have been so hectic, it's been quite impossible to coordinate brunch and such. So this visit should finally allow us to finish our much delayed screenplay Hoboken or Bust for the annual Promises Reunion Talent Show. [FYI, we are currently casting and are seeking a Charo - must love coochie (coos). Interested parties please send headshot and guitar demo. Thanks.]

So yes, I have prepared my literary hero her own writing studio complete with a brand new bottle of Stoli, candy gauloises, and a framed photograph of Anais Nin's bare bottom. That should do the trick. Wish us luck!

ETA/FYI: This pretty much defined our weekend.

TFG

So quickly, I am leaving on Thurs for a much needed vacation. Dear reader, have you noticed that I am a bitter miserable people-hating person right now who is so very near a meltdown/breakdown/ho-down that it is possible that I may not actually even make it to Thurs? Have you noticed my poor attitude and the fact that I am no longer able to breathe?

It's ok if you haven't, I know you're busy. Worrying about my deteriorating mental state is not a part of your job description, it's cool. Let us all trust that 9 days away from Dumb City and my robotech job will partially cure what ails me. I am making myself inaccessible to anyone with a 703 or 202 area code. I will be on a pontoon on a lake in Northern Indiana, I will be in a field with my people in Kansas, I will not be here in this place.

I am also trusting that when(if?) I come back, I will be rested and renewed or at the very least, I will have a plan in place for achieving such a state. There are plans and potentials and possibilities. We shall see what develops. I am hoping this not only for myself, but for the safety of others.

I am contemplating not taking my computer but I promise to take pictures and have stories to tell of what I can only imagine will be exploitations/corruptions/disruptions and all around Midwestern shenanigans. I am going to leave you with a pretty picture taken by (correction) my Canadian tourist on the west coast. I bid you farewell!

cheddar change

Well I know you've been waiting on pins/needles to hear how I did in Atlantic City. Frankly, I am not sure how you could deal with the suspense. Somehow you managed. You're a trooper, I've always said. And a good soldier, a tiny dancer, a crazy diamond shining on, etc etc. Go you.

And go me because I doubled up my cash with my blackjacking ability. See, you may not know this, but in the past, I've financed a new ipod and a therapy session with my cold/hard cash winnings from gambling. You know I've got the poker moves, but I also have some skills on the other tables. I'm pretty good at the whole BJ thing. And blackjack. Holla!

Where was I? Oh yes, so here is a piece of advice if you ever plan to drive to Atlantic City. Do not pay attention to your GPS or the directions on the casinos' websites. If you look at a map and go, hmm, I think I'll take 40 through southern Jersey b/c it's more direct and it's a highway, then you deserve the snail's pace that that two lane highway will allow. You will regret the choice. It will add an extra hour to your drive and you'll wonder if you're actually driving through mid-Missouri given all the small towns and cows. Who knew?

Here is another piece of advice. When you are sitting at the most minimum bet table at a casino (i.e., where each hand you're required to bet at least $15), be prepared to deal with gamblers who think they are on the World Series of Poker and who will give you lip if you don't play BJ the correct way. Now I play BJ according to the standard method (yes, there is one) and on occasion, I'll go against the probabilities and do my own thing. It's a free country. So this old guy got all lippy with me b/c I didn't double down on an Ace-8 or whatever and after a bunch of hands of his mutterings about my playing, I had had enough. I challenged him to a duel. Not really, but would have. But I did get pushed into calling him out and asking him if he was such a blackjack pro, why was he playing at the tourist/baby table with a $15 minimum when his skills clearly deserved the big boy table. And how was his adult diaper holding up? Or something like that. He shut up after awhile and I got up to walk off the irritation. I swear, gamblers are the biggest babies in the world.

Despite all that, I exercised patience and stamina and doubled up my initial investment of $200 and came away with a profit of $250 - which is a car payment I say. No complaints. And I had enough comps to get a free buff-ay dinner. Hey, I few opportunities to indulge the vices that I do have, so I say smoke 'em if you got 'em, there's time enough for countin' when the dealin's done.

So now you know and can rest easy tonight, knowing I came/saw/conquered Atlantic City. The end.

ps. Ms Snarker, we should have put some cash on the big IU/Purdue game tonight, huh?

macaroni and cheese

On a lighter note, here's a pix of my strai friend A and I doing what we do best. I hope you'll note how lovingly my mouth caresses that bottle of (what was a shitty-tasting) chardonnay. Gotta give my nippy-fucky friends something to wank to, you know? I'm a giver plus also a receiver. Holla.



This is a new year, same as the old year which = gay gay gay!

ps. Go KU!

hugs not drugs

Well hello. Clearly I have been attempting to just get through this holiday in this city by myself. Yes, poor orphan Annie me. Instead of wallowing in self-pity and being all sad (because, as Audrey once said, there's nothing worse than a sad lesbian - except a sad lesbian clown), I have elected to move through this holiday the old-fashioned way: booze. Nothing gets you through the day better than a dab of wine or beer or vodka or the bottle of Patron I splurged on. Lest you think this sad, let me just tell you that I've been having a HI-larious time. And truthfully, when I used to go home for Xmas, my sister and I were often drinking because seriously, who didn't/doesn't need to drink to get through the holidays? Surely it's not just me and everyone I know, right?

Anyway, point being: good times, good times. You can't spell dysphoria without dysfunction, am I right? I am. So thus, I am attempting to make it through until next weekend when I am headed back to sanity in the great midwest for a dose of my people and open spaces on New Years Eve. Yes Virgina, there is an end in sight soon enough. Until then, we do what we must.

Hope yours is a good one, whatever it might be.

+ kitchen sink

Here is the thing: I have had a headache constantly since Tuesday morning and I have muscle knots the size of my own breasts on my shoulders/back so I'm feeling a little bit like Rocky Dennis looks. Maybe? Anyway, point being I have no intention of whining beyond the above. Instead I will tell you that I am getting like a full 1.5 hour massage (with release!) tomorow and this makes me so happy I could cry. I'm self-medicating this evening, clearly. And Bob's your uncle.

Second thing is I bought myself an early Xmas present with a hard-won bonus from Robotech, Inc which is the fictitious name of my workplace from this point forth. [As an aside, this is the first 'corporate' job I've had - I reluctantly had to leave the cushy (but low paying) academic world behind. As such, I totally thought that the concept of a "bonus" was made up shit for movies about corporate life. Who knew they actually exist and people get them? I say bring on the bonuses!] Where was I? Oh yes, early Xmas present = brand new Blackberry Pearl. I love it almost more than is healthy. I will marry it in Massachusetts in the spring, we will do the hokey pokey and honeymoon in Poughkeepsie. Sorry ladies, I'm now off the market.

Third thing is Skype. Whoever invented this deserves the Nobel Peace Prize and I am only half kidding. Where was this like 15 years ago when my phone bill to long distance girlfriend #1 was $300? Though I guess the webcam itself had to be invented. And a connection faster than dialup 2400 baud had to exist. This was in the day when wireless meant etching your email in stone and throwing it to your neighbor in the next cubicle. Man I love Skype so much I think I will designate it as my Other Woman. Don't tell my new wife but hello, free calls to any computer in the world?? With video?? I'm so there. Anyone from Tehran wanna holla at me? We can discuss something nippy fucky live! Or resolve the apparent misunderstanding that exists between us. Whatever, it's cool. And free! Who are we to pass that up?

It is clear that this post is going nowhere fast so I will end it on a serious note. Can I tell you something? I made the best fried pasta dish in the entire world and I feel it's only right to share the recipe with you. It's for your own good and I worry about you.

(ps. I stole this recipe from my crazy Alg friend, if you recall, stayed in New Orleans during Katrina and coped with it by drinking three bottles that night)

Pasta du Fool

Ingreds:
1. 1/2 of a red pepper and a green pepper, diced
2. finely chopped fresh basil, oregano, thyme
3. Spaghetti
3. olive oil
4. soy sauce
5. salt/pepper
6. romano cheese
7. cayenne pepper or a dab of hot sauce if you like it spicy

Process:
Boil the spaghetti with the fresh diced peppers added to the water. When finished, drain and put in bowl. Toss in herbs, enough olive oil to coat the pasta, and a couple of tablespoons or so of soy sauce. Mix this all up with salt/pepper.

In a hot non-stick skillet (or cast iron!) with a bit of olive oil in it, put pasta in and let fry. Don't stir it, let it get crispy on one side then turn the mixture over. If you've got the right skillet, you could flip it like a pancake but I do not advise this if you are drinking by the way. Fry the pasta up on that side as well until it crisps up too and at the last minute, sprinkle fresh romano on top of the pasta and put a lid on it. Let the cheese melt a bit. Eat and try denying that it is the best thing you've ever had and maybe start making your plans now to have a civil union with it in New Jersey or something.

Goodnight!

where do i begin

I am alive, I am alive, and that is the best that I can do..

You do not even want to know. Two hours ago was the first time I had a breath of fresh air (like actual air from outside) in 2.5 days. I have been involved in intense work-related negotiations at an undisclosed location here in DC. Let's just say if there is not peace in the middle-east, do not blame me for trying. I am exaggerating of course. But suffice to say, the last 2 months have felt like one big blur and the last two days have felt like what happens when a tire runs over you again and again until you are flat as a pancake and pretty much have nothing left to be squished out. Now take that feeling and then multiply it by gravity and how heavy unfresh air is, which, having breathed it for days, I can tell you is way heavy and tastes like dirty gravy. All of the above have conspired to leave me very near the edge. It is like I was never in the hottub naked. It is like I have inhaled gravy and exhaled everything. I have nothing left to say.

Random Sampling and Abnormal Distributions

Holla, all you data geeks!

Oh Win, you had to go and do it. This whole tagging business. I'm resisting...resisting...

...but I can only write about the damn Metro for so long before even I click my own hollaback button. So. No guarantees re: scintillating details, these are just the random facts, Ma'am.

Rules:
We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged, and to read your blog.


1. I had my one and only nosebleed for the first time ever in my life three nights ago and got all light-headed based on the quantity and vivid color. Lohan might be used to such things given her, um, happy pants , but this is all new to me and I would like to pass on having another such event.

2. One time, when I was like 9 or 10, I played on this softball team and we were in the championship game. I was a scrawny skinny little thing, but I was fast and had a good arm. I was playing the spot they called 'rover' which is kinda behind second base and sorta outfieldy. They stuck all the little kids in the outfield b/c they figured no one would ever hit that far. I have no actual memory of this, but my dad recently told me a story about that game where apparently, there were two outs and we were winning (glued to the screen by this riveting random fact yet?) by like 1 or something. The other team was up to bat and one of their best hitters was up. A big girl, I guess. So she ends up hitting this line drive that's totally going to go over my head and win the game. According to the story, I apparently threw my skinny little arm up, caught the ball, and fell down with it still in my mitt. Now here is where you would think I would remember something of this magnitude: My teammates all ran to me and lifted me on their shoulders and carried me off the field in joyous celebration. Like total fucking movie or something. Seriously. And I can't remember this?

3. I stole a car once when I was 15. Granted, it was my mom's and I only drove it around the block while she was bowling and she never knew it was missing. Speaking of bowling, I recently just threw away like 5 old bowling trophies of mine from when I was a kid. Yeah, I bowled. Remember, we're talking Indiana.

4. I wrote my entire PhD in a month just to prove my advisor wrong, that I actually could write it in a month. Sidebar I: I had the data already collected, but still. Sidebar II: I gave up drinking beer, smoking pot, and sleeping during that month. Sidebar III: I thanked my dog in the acknowledgements. Sidebar IV: If I can do it, you can too, Mrs V!

5. Four years ago, while back home visiting my mom, I witnessed and was the first on the scene of a head-on car accident on a perfectly sunny summer morning. My mom was in the car with me and we were traveling on a two lane country highway. The minivan in front of us was weaving back and forth across the lanes, almost hitting cars coming at us. I slowed way down and was just reaching for my cell phone to call the cops when the accident happened. The car he hit spun around and landed in our lane, his minivan flipped and went into the other lane. I pulled over and ran up to the car, the smell of burning oil was kind of sweet. I hate that smell now. The older lady in the car was in shock. I reached in and touched her shoulder, talked to her. She kept asking what happened and fading in and out of shock. There was blood, not a lot, but enough. She had also lost most of the fingernails off of her hand and blood was coming from her ear. I know now that it visually could have been a lot worse and am thankful it wasn’t. I just kept talking to her and telling her help was coming; my mom found her watch in the roadway and put it in her car. They had to cut off the top of the car and the doors to get her out. It wasn’t until a couple of hours later that I realized I had her blood on my pants. The driver of the minivan was an older man too, we never knew why he drove head-on and hit that car and we never found out whether the older woman lived. I won’t forget that day. It makes me wonder about the guy who witnessed my mom’s accident a year later and came up on the scene first. I know his name from the police report. What did he see and what does he remember most? Actually, I’m kind of glad I don’t know the story he tells about that night.

6. The longest I've ever gone in my life without having a dog is 1 year. Growing up, our dog Alex used to walk with me to school and lay out in front of the doors until it was over and walk me home. He would do the same when I walked downtown to the grocery store. Everyone knew him in town and he used to lay in the street in front of our house and watch the cars go by, everyone just drove around him. My yellow dog in grad school had the softest ears and when we went camping, she would search for the highest place near us so she could guard. She loved to canoe too. One of my current black dogs, the baby dog, reminds me alot of her, very gentle and sweet. I can't imagine not having a dog.

7. I have fallen all dorky-crazy in love with a lone wolf Canadian drummer girl!

8. In the tradition of costumes, my old friend J and I once dressed up as Isis. Remember that show? Eight years later in the trunk of my old car under my spare tire, I found the 80's gold belt from that costume. It's now back in style I think, I saw someone wearing one on the Metro today. Niiiice.

Alas, I don't have 8 people to tag, but Mona and vivvy, please indulge me and keep this chain letter going and you will have good luck for 8 years. Or something. It's way gay, just do it!

Is that how they say hi in whoreville?

"I want a red dress. I want it flimsy and cheap." - Kim Addonizio

Hey, I'm back from Hoosierland and doing the bridesmaid thing. Originally, my plan called for being pretty much drunk 24/7 while I was there to cope/deal with the whole situation + extra stuff. Sadly, I was mostly sober and for that, I am dissappointed in myself. As a result, I was acutely aware of how drunk and/or crazy and/or drama-filled = my sister and her friends and what's left of my family.

I was also acutely aware of the whore red dress I had to wear. Hey, I don't begrudge someone a red dress, I just felt a bit out of my element. Remember when I thought it was dusty-rose like my old prom dress? Nope. I brought it back here b/c I think I can earn some serious cash on the DC corners in that thing. Whore-red should totally be (and probably is) the name of nail polish or lipstick or the dress of a stripper that I now own. There are pictures yes. I will not be sharing any of them except for one below and that is only to show you the color and the fact that I ditched the hooker shoes right after the ceremony for a pair of flipflops. Yeah, it was that kind of classy affair (ps. That hairy man-arm on the left is my brother who sat next to me at the bar and who tried to pick up the woman who did my sister's hair. And also any other woman there not married. To no avail.)

Confirming your worst fears about me

Hope your weekend was a good one. I start working for The Man tomorrow so alas, I will be a bit busier these days, which is good for a variety of reasons. I have some friends coming into town this week and man, I haven't even told you about going to my 20th high school reunion this coming weekend! Holla! Class of '87 represent!

Gotta run and actually get some sleep, but one last picture from the wedding reception which was held at the local Elks lodge. This one's for you, Ms. Snarker!

Always A Bridesmaid...

Ah, so I'm off tomorrow to attend my sister's wedding this weekendin Indiana. I'm a little scared b/c I have not seen the dress I'm supposed to wear and my sister has already said "you're going to hate it". So yeah, I have that to look forward to. I got a garbled and slightly drunk voice mail from her a week or so ago telling me I had to go off and find a special bra to wear with said dress. All I could make out was "Queen Latifah" and "strapless" and "Diva-nation!" and "Wal-mart". Turns out, that was enough info. Did you know that Queen Latifah has a line of bras?! I did not. I suppose it's not surprising given her, um, interest in the ladies. What better way to support your sistas, so to speak, than with a line of bras sold at Wal-mart?

I promise to take pictures so that you may mock me. Good times..

Star of P()rn

I swear I'm living a p()rnstar life with the kind of guys that keep coming through this house. Plumbers and repairmen and today, some "restoration" guy who is coming to "survey" my "damage" from the move. Seriously, it's a never ending stream of dudes making appointments to come to the house to do this and that. I think I could turn a pretty penny if I set up a hidden camera and answered the door in my sheer "nightie". Oh, hello, Mr. Restoration Man, I didn't know you would be arriving so soon, you'll pardon my nubile and willing body, won't you? Oh, you've dropped your hammer, shall I get that for you? Cheesy dialogue? Check. Unattractive male actors? Check. Hot sex machine me? Oh yeah. There is cash to be made, ladies, and I could tap into that market. Get it, "tap" that "market"? Good lord, stop me now.

The only problem, of course, is that whole actual having sex business (and it is a business!) I have no problem with having it (love it in fact, hello!) and encouraging others to do likewise. I just reserve the right to pick and choose and so far, um, as Win would say: I must pass. Now where's old Candance the Carpenter when you need her, I ask?

Why am I even having this conversation? Who am I and what am I doing here?

Aside: Do you like how I disguise that p-word up above to keep out freaky folks from finding this site and yet (and this is completely true) someone from Iran googled the phrase 'nippy fucky' recently and found my blog so what can you do? I'm not kidding either. Sorta makes me afraid of what I've written here. Of course, this post is not helping in any way/shape/form.

And with that, I bid you a nippy fucky good day!

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!

In the heartland/out of the closet

Check it, we get some pub from our big city friends. When you make the garden section of the NY Times, you know you've arrived!

ETA: One would think that the only gay people in Kansas are old Johnson county couples who host potlucks! Where are the hot young things I see up on campus and the queens who own that bed and breakfast just outside of Salina? The sample size was pretty small and not very representative.

In other news, I have self-diagnosed my nose as having a staph infection and have decided that after 3 days of intense pain/swelling, that perhaps I should see a doctor. As you know, I myself am a doctor and have absolutely no qualms about diagnosing myself and others in all matters of psychological, physical, and hair style problems. Given my background in the liberal arts and sciences, I am trained in all manner of illness, particularly those stemming from Jonathan Frazen dysphoria. I once diganosed a friend with acute depression as simply being protein-deficient and overly carbed. A piece of my homemade meatloaf perked her right up. I also removed several pieces of gravel from this same friend's knee following a bike wreck, using the Stoli I was drinking as an antiseptic. I am actually not kidding. I have painlessly and efficiently removed skin tags (tip: sanitize a nail clipper in alcohol first!). I routinely work with my hair consultant Roxanne on afterhour hair emergencies. We once spotted a bi-level at 10pm, but alas, it was too late to save it, neither one of us had scissors at the bar. Finally, I find that nothing cures what ails you like good sex and thus, in my professional opinion, suggest that treatment for most individuals. Point being, though, I am not a miracle worker, I have no actual (sanctioned) medical training and I cannot prescribe antibiotics; thus I must bite the bullet and go the doctor today and figure out what the fuck is going on with my nose and drug up before New Years Eve. It's the only way...

ETA: Folliculitis! With staph! Just as I suspected! Antibiotics, good times! So while I was there at the doctor's office, the nurse was asking me some Qs about my nose and she goes: "So I have to ask, any drug use, you now, like cocaine?" And part of me was screaming to say: "Only off a stripper's ass, is that a bad thing to do?" Then I said something about how strict The Agent is about all those illegal things and then the nurse goes into this story about how she used to do hair removal in a gyno office (yeah, that kind) and she once had a lesion up in her nose and the staff was freaked out about whether herpes could be an airborne transmitted disease and the doctor asked if she might have herpes and she was all like hell no, and I want a STD test! I don't know, it was just a strange story to follow up on and she never did tell me what caused her lesion but in my professional opinion, she probably picked her nose just a little too vigorously. I find that in a lot of the people who seek my guidance. Keep your fingers out of your nose, people, or you'll end up with folliculitis and a staph infection and I will not feel the least bit sorry for you. That is all.

All the perfect drugs and superheroes

So I've been getting back into a healthier routine these last few weeks. Riding my bike (it's been lovely..the wild sunflowers are all in bloom around here and the weather has been perfect for 10 mile rides) and watching what I eat, but most importantly, I'm detoxing from the booze. I mentioned a few nights of debauchery recently and before I went out to Seattle, I decided that I needed to Stop. There have been other periods in my life where I have had the sense to Stop (and other times, where I did not have the sense). I admit it's a struggle and lord knows I'm not the only one. There's a reason people drink; I know mine. My method of cold turkey, not even a celebratory birthday drink, not even a little glass of wine has worked in the past so I'm going to stick with it. My detox is only in its infancy, just barely a week old, but I feel good about it and shall keep it up for awhile. I feel lucky that I'm actually able to Stop when I know others, friends of mine, who just..can't. So yeah, exercise, eating healthy, no booze. There's nothing vice-like left for me except for the strippers and cocaine. A girl has her limits!

Stoli, hold the tonic and limes

Oh man, too many vodka tonics last night - that's all I have to say about that. Who does that on a Wed? A friend's dad is in town so we did some grilling and such. And I found myself in front of the stereo playing dj which I'm wont to do late at night after a few beverages. Good times. Chalk it up to training for my Seattle trip by staying up until 2am. Nice.

I've got an early flight tomorrow and I don't even need to tell you that I'm going to be napping later this afternoon. Gotta get my shit together before then though b/c tonight it's all about KT Tunstall. (Of relevance to no one but myself, when I first heard her, I totally thought she was like this 18 year old singer from Australia. Then my friend J was like, um, yeah, she's 31..and from Scotland). I think I was getting her mixed up with Joss Stone (though I have no idea where she's from). Annnyywayy, yeah, so the show tonight should be great - it's raining cats/dogs now and there are supposed to be storms all day/night. Not that it matters since it's inside, but I melt when doused with water (that's how we witches roll).

I'm going with aforementioned friends and when they got tix, I didn't even think to ask The Agent if she wanted to go b/c our music tastes are 180 diff (need I mention the whole Anne Murray thing again?). So last week, she's like 'what's on tap for next week?' and I mentioned the show and she goes 'wait, that chick with the horse and cherry tree?' Yeah, so she kinda wanted to go, oops. But I suspect she's glad she isn't going b/c right now, she's down state at firearms practice and getting rained on. She will be in no mood for anything tonight when she gets home that doesn't involve a warm quiet situation. She always comes back from these things all bruised and cut up from having to shoot every gun in their arsenal. She had a bruise on her shoulder for a week from the shotgun alone. Poor thing.

Enough of Chatty Cathy, I'm going to have a little lunch and rustle up some tylenol-type things -- I blame the tonic and limes if you must know the truth. I'll be unable to pass any digital information along all those internet tubes and wires until I return, but I will be taking pix during my trip and will post the naked ones when I return. Yeah, I've got your Mt Rainier right here, baby. Later.


ps. Confidential to Vivvy: Did you receive my monkey? I made it say funny funny things for you, sweetie. Just like the old days when we took our monkey on the road...and you insisted we name it Tequila Mockingbird after that old drag queen who used to hook you up with poppers and wigs. Remember, darling? Good times, good times..

What not to do

For reasons I would rather not get into, I have pulled/strained/bruised my entire back and every muscle in it. I actually think I bruised my spine, no joke. As further punishment, I was hung over for most of the day yesterday. Good times...not.

It was a nice and balmy 102 today - sloth weather. I hate it.

I can't wait until we actually get into the house so I have something to do and focus on - I think I'm starting to go nuts. As my friend and I once discovered while eating mushrooms (yes, those kind), if your actions are not goal-directed (i.e., you have a sense of purpose for everything you do), your whole sense of being breaks down. We discovered many Universal Truths that night to be honest, but I'm digging the whole goal-directed thing right now. Without any, you can find yourself adrift. And you know what that means: Existential Crisis! Good times, good times. See, this is what the heat does to me, saps any energy or motivation and I'm left to scribble terribly melancholy blog entries about The Meaning Of Life (or Lack Thereof). You can correctly conclude that I am no Joy to be around these days, but alas, the sun will come out, tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar! Fear for me, I'm quoting Annie. Goodnight!