ardent bullshit comes down every faultline gushing heavily into jest kindly luscious melons nodding openly post quakes resting still to undermind various wonderous xylophones yawning zealously

Friday, September 30, 2005

God invented Fridays for Binge drinking.


WARNING: THIS POSTS IS GOING TO SUCK.

Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow.

That's what I say. Meow.

Things seen this week in 3, 2, 1...disappointment, elation, stress, worry, calm, lying, stealing, crying, laughing, dancing. I've essentially been spinning like a top from one thing to another. Thank goodness I learned how to spot. Also, for the first time in months I've fallen asleep on the couch. Waking up at 3:30 to Starting Over is quite disturbing. People crying all over the place & rebirthing or something. Too exhausted to pay attention, I grabbed the cat & went to bed. Hibernation mode will set in soon and I'm kind of looking forward to it.

On to better things.

We have a 10 Detector Cytomation MoFlo High Speed Cell Sorter. ha ha. They call it a MoFlo.

Pantless Post 2 Housewarming Party is in a week from today. It should be fun but will be missing a crucial ingredient...Nick. This makes me sad that he can't make it. Nick's the bee's knees. The blogosphere will be represented by Erin & Jessica & whoever else is in Chicago & wants to come (please contact me if you want the secret details).

I need to stop writing because I'm sucky today. Fucking crappy Christmas Book ruined my whole week. Ruined.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Dirtbagging the Neiman Marcus out of me

"Hi E, it's R"/"Hi R, how are you?"/"I'm good & you?"/"Terrific, what can I do for you?"/"Well you're not going to like this but here goes...Dr. ******* has a proposal to submit"/"Uh, when is it due?"/"October 1 & I don't have anything for it. It's through A*******"/"Seriously?"/"Yep"

Fuck. Me.

3 seconds later the very organized yet but very over-tense & nervous guy who I'm working on 2 stuffs with for this month calls for like the 3rd time since I got to work an hour before. "is it done? is it done? is it done?" NO! I had a deadline for 2 stuffs today. His shit isn't due until Monday. It's like that guy that calls like every 2 days to see if you want to do something & you're like...DDUUUUUDE NO! I did think that maybe you were pretty cool & maybe we would have hung out & realized that we totally dug each other & fall in loved or whatever but now you've just annoyed me to the point that I don't want anything to do with you.

I've been that person.

Last night we went to the Falcon. Yeah, the "omg I wouldn't put my bare ass anywhere near that toilet seat" Falcon. I always meet very interesting people at the Falcon. Like Falcon Chris. Hhhmmm...wonder where Falcon Chris is. I think he's supposed to be back from learning about irrigation in India. He was kind of a weirdo & when he walked it looked like he should be snapping his fingers or something. Somewhat of a bopping kind of walk. And his clothes didn't match. He said he was a student but I think that maybe he was homeless & wanted people to think he was a student. Like I said, he's pretty weird. Last night we met some teachers. They were nice. The Falcon is good for music, too. But you can only stay like 2 hours because you run out of good songs to listen to. I played Alright, Uptight (clear out of sight) like 3 times & a whole bunch of Cure & Patsy Cline & Cher. You know those times that you just want to listen to Cher because she believes in life after love & if she believes then maybe we all can believe.

Do you believe?

Jake met Con & I out at the Falcon, too. He came in to visit in between doing his monkey work. Jake's a really cool guy, too. I always want to call him Sid. Like Sid Viscous because he has these rad leather pants that he wears. He can pull off leather pants. He's been to Burning Man like 4 times or something. This year he was a zombie. So Jake seemed a little bit sad. What can we do to cheer up Jake? Con & I think maybe take him to a strip club & get him lap dances. He'd like that sort of thing maybe. He likes girls A LOT.

So then I forgot to set my alarm last night & I woke up late. That stunk. Turns out it was pretty good thing, though, because I would have done something & then totally had to redo it & that would have stressed me out more than I'm already stressed out & could possibly piss me off. I guess some things happen for reasons.

Do you believe?

So this week I found out that work will probably continue to be a bit of a bitch for like another month & some weeks. I don't even know if I'll be able to go out for Halloween, which is so ridiculous I can't even think about it. I do a lot of rushing & waiting. While I wait, I check out Craig's List sometimes. I think that the personal ads are funny. But let me warn you...some of them are without clothes so watch out. You don't want to get caught looking at someone with their pants around their ankles. And the people aren't pretty naked people. They're scary naked people. Anyhow, there are some people who post & are serious. Like really serious with like professional pictures in suits & stuff. I saw one today with the picture of the shirtless dude. His title was like "Don't pass me up" or something. That's a pretty strong statement coming from a man who posted himself on the web shirtless, don't you think?

I'm gonna walk home in the dark again now.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

IT'S HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh Happy! Oh Joy! Oh Bliss! Oh Wonderful, Wonderful, Wonderful Day!!!!!! Yesterday was one of my happiest days of the year. That day, every year, when the world comes alive with absolute ridiculousness.

I got my Neiman Marcus Christmas Book.

First things first...FANTASY GIFTS!!!! Last year they sold a zeppelin. Yeah, like the Hindenburg but hopefully won't blow up & stuff. John Travolta bought one. They also had 1.2 million dollars worth of diamonds as a present. And they had matching his & her Lexi & a whole bunch of other awesome gifts. I feverishly turned the glossy pages, searching for the gifts that start at $20,000 & go up from there.

Disappointment.

This year's catalogue sucks with capital S-U-C-K-S. When would you need his & hers photobooths? Don't get me wrong. I could definitely enjoy one. But two? No no no. That's just stupid. So they have some new hybrid Lexus (dear NM, you'd have to be pretty dumb to buy the prototype). Then some hover car, which could be cool but I but it sucks because that's a prototype, too. And a railroad train for your back yard & vintage jewelry & a levitating sculpture & some Indy car simulation. One of the most expensive gifts is a private concert with "Sir" Elton John. Um, yeah, $1.5m for Crocodile Rock? I'll pass on that. There is one cool thing, though. It's a "Tree Sculpture", which is a fancy way to say "Tree House". That would be pretty awesome. Some Swiss Family Robinson-like, adult playhouse type thing in your back yard. Shitcha!

Upon exhaustion from such an anticlimactic Christmas Book & a hard jog, I decided that if I'm good & wholesome that maybe god will make the Christmas Book much better next year. So I made egg salad & took a bath & went to bed. Or maybe I'll just write a little letter to Neiman Marcus & suggest that they make their Christmas Book unsucky next year.

Update: knee-length khaki w/ a slit up the left side skirt will soon be a mini with a small slit up on the left thigh. Also, so far...no Chicken McNuggets.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Worst Tuesday Morning This Week


Mother Nature greeted Chicago with a wonderful, crisp, sunny morning. Breathe in. Breathe out. So I put on one of my fav skirts (the pencil-style khaki one with the slit) & headed to work. Just can't help smiling trot, trot, trotting to work listening to Broken Social Scene. Does life get any better?

I got up to my office & greeted coworkers with cheery "Good morning"s & smiles. As ritual, turned on my computer & started to change my shoes. "Hmmmm....that's funny." I thought as I looked at my left calf to find what appeared to be 4 dark marks created by some sort of substance. I didn't think that I was attempting to bleed myself when I shaved this morning but you know how mornings & razors mix. Not always so well. To my surprise, it didn't wipe away from the kleenex & water trick. (ancient chinese recipe of cleaning things) This is when I realized the my right calf was covered in what appeared to be some sort of splattered dark substance. Did I throw hash oil all over my legs this morning? Omigod. I'm dying. That's it. Call the priest so I can tell him that religion is a crock of shit. Then it dawned on me...**th Street is getting repaved. While overzealously walking (& smiling at that) I managed to get TAR all over the back of me. I tarred myself. Thanks flip flops.

You can't bring me down.

So I go downstairs to make about 5.3 million copies of budgets & stuff to find that there's a sign. This sign, unlike the one for the water park a couple weeks ago, was not a good one. Sorry for the inconvenience, my ass. Back to the crappy upstairs copier to find that it's out of toner.

Now I'm starting to get pissed.

"When's the copier getting fixed?"

"Uh, like 2 days or so."

So I'm running around trying to find a copier, any copier, so I can copy this stuff to turn in, to wait, to change what needs to be changed, to COPY, to send to several federal agencies. WITH TAR ALL UP MY BACKSIDE & the knowledge that a year's worth of looking for this adorable skirt will be be flushed down the ol' toilie when, after 3 washes tonight, I will sit in the basement laundry room, slouched over, crying into my tarred skirt. Goddamn you, tar. Goddamn you.

Surprisingly, though, I'm still in a great mood. Must be the crack.

Now that's the kind of story I like. You looking like a complete ass. Hey, I thought you were going to Conti's blog? He wasn't writing anything. How about you try Erin's? Maybe I'll do that. Do you want me around anymore? Did you bring me Chicken McNuggets? No. Well then, I guess you got your answer.

Monday, September 26, 2005

The Story of Caleb & Emily

Guess who I talked to last week. God? Nope. Goldie Hawn? Nope. RuPaul? Nope. What's with you & Goldie & Rupaul? They're the only celebs uncool enough to talk to you. Good point. No, I talked to Caleb. Oh yeah? How's he? Kickin' ass & takin' names. Same old same old. And, so what? So I thought I'd tell a story. Great. Where's my pillow?

Chapter 1: How Emmy Met Gabe
Once upon a time in a town in the foothills, a sorority girl (we'll call her Emily) at university couldn't find a date for a date-dash. She'd called Brad & Young Homer & Craig & Jim & Pete & Rob but got nowhere. Date-dash (def.)-when the social chair of a sorority house decides to rent out a bar or borrow a house to throw a party in which the girls & their dates are to attend. The girls in the house usually have roughly 1.5-2 hours to find a date & get ready. Also see: a spectacular reason to get drunk on a Monday night.

Debating a visit to the local novelty porn store to buy a blow-up man, Emily's roomate entered the room. From here on out, the roommate will be referred to as North/South (she had a boob job & the md(?) botched it, her nipples now point up & down). N/S was quite a crafty thing but too dumb to pull off clever. She will also be referred to as a thing because it is questionable she is human & rumored to be a spawn of the devil or possibly Lucifer itself. (Also see "Cathy" from East of Eden) At this time N/S & Emily spoke to each other. (This was before N/S passed out on Emily & puked all over their room the night before the Emily's very important Spanish Lit final)

This story sucks. Is that a zit or a mosquito bite on your forehead? It doesn't suck & it's a mosquito bite. Don't you see how it's scabbed over a little? Oh right. What are you going to eat for dinner tonight? I'm not sure. But your caloric distraction tactics will not work. Oh yeah? Ice cream cake. La la la la I can't hear you.

N/S had invited 4 different dates to the date-dash, just in case any of them no-showed. Playing the socialite after hearing Emily's situation, N/S got on the phone with Jason (an unsuspecting victim of future embarrassment) "do you have any roommates? a date for my roommate. uh huh. yeah. he's free? great. bring him. not really. brown. blue. oh no, i'm much better looking." And hung up.

An hour later introductions were made. Off to the party. Having declared earlier that the main reason of attendance was to get as much free beer as possible, they participated in many games & contests. Emily introduced everybody to Caleb by the wrong name. They learned that they both love Bjork, particularly Debut. They had long conversations about Marquez. They talked about what they were going to be when they grew up. Caleb...a rock star. Emily...the princess of Spain. They laughed about funny stories of crazy people going to restaurants in their bathing suits & floaties in Canyon City. They laughed as 3 other guys showed up to find that N/S had invited them all. They laughed harder as the guys tried to win the attention of N/S, making complete jackoffs of themselves. It was a good ol' hootenany.

Then the kegs ran out. So they went home & drank more beer & did some smack. Uh, what? Ha ha. Just kidding. They only drank more beer & watched The Doors. This began a terrific friendship.

The End. (for now)

Significance? I was hanging out with some friends at a show this weekend & we talked about blind dates. I was the only one to have gone on one. (Everybody else said no way jose) In an attempt to prove that the one time I've been set up went well, I thought I'd share the story. But you missed the most important issue. I thought that getting drunk was implied. No, dumbass. Did you get laid? No. It wasn't that kind of date. Plus, weren't you paying attention? I'm going to marry the prince of Spain. Duh. That was a waste. I was hoping that you'd at least get laid. You suck. I want laid stories. Well, they you'll just have to go somewhere else. Fine then, maybe I will. I'm gonna go hang out on Conti's blog. He likes the word laser.


Our Next Top Story…I'm really craving Chicken McNuggets. Will you bring me some?

Thursday, September 22, 2005

crash boom bang


ssssssssssssssshhhhhhh.........secrets.

I woke up last night at 3:30 to a thunderstorm. I got scared & hid under my blanket.

ssssssssssssssshhhhhhh.........secrets.

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Oops, I crapped my pants


Sincerely hot? More like...Sincerely the best fucking show I've seen since David Byrne in June of last year.

Sincerely blew my mind.

Last night, with some noted hesitation, I went to see these guys. You can find their music here. I highly recommend you buy their music.

HIGHLY RECOMMEND.

So I got their disc a year & some months ago tossed at me by a friend of some friends (who later became a friend of mine) in a hey-I-think-you-should-check-them-out disc swap. I loved the disc so much that not only did it stay in heavy rotation for over 4 months (& is still regularly played), I passed on this marvelous work to several people.

Please listen.

Yesterday morning I got to work to find that one of the friends I passed the disc to had news that they were playing here on Tuesday, September 20, 2005. $12? I'm broke. I mean really really broke. I'd spread the word to a couple people in an attempt to get them to talk me into going to hear the show. No dice. No takers. Looks like maybe I'll just not go. Maybe. But I did a bit of research & found out that On Fillmore (Glen Kotche: current Wilco percussionist & Darin Gray: bassist) was sitting in with the +2s. Sit-ins=awesome. I was not going to miss this.

Cursing the lack of parking in Chicago, I found an "iffy" spot (already 15 minutes late) & ran to the museum, praying my car would be where I left it, cigarette in hand. The door said "100 minute performance". Shit. 25 of them already gone. I entered to find a melange of percussion instruments played simultaneously by 2 men and quickly slipped into the third row.

I'm in love with the man who played a bow & whisks on the fancy xylophone & made it beautiful.

At that time, 5/6 people were on stage. Playing, sitting on the floor, watching, interpretive-dancing, moving around. Made me feel like I was sitting in a basement session. Then came the bass. Within 3 minutes I closed my eyes to find the imagery of waltzing through the clouds. Kinda like that one Vettriano but barefoot in comfy jeans & a tee-shirt rather than a black cocktail dress.

Aural orgasm.

This continued for 15 minutes. In and out, up and down and together and separate and turning and turning and turning. By this time, each musician who had previously sat/walked around/danced/listened made their way back to their instruments and you knew that something was gonna happen.

Then someone talked. "Um we are going to do some songs from Domenico's album."

There is no way to adequately describe the hour and a half that followed. The +2's, along with On Fillmore, played majority of the songs on Sincerely Hot with a break in the middle for Moreno to announce that he was going to play off of Music Typewriter but instead decided to play songs currently unreleased. He also let on that the new album is almost done. Brilliant.

The best news since I found out that U Market stocks Brownie Batter again.

The slower, accoustic songs travelled through the air like a transluscent sheet of calm captivation. The quicker songs overflowed with excitement and uncontrollable delight. The set list was perfect. The performers sent off the most amazing energy I've ever felt at a show. As previously stated, I really can't describe how incredible those 2 hours of my life were. And the crowd? What crowd? Well, yes, there were people there. However, I (& would assume the rest of the audience) felt as if, other than the performers, I was the only one in the room.

After the show, I walked west on Chicago Ave., awed by the city, lights & people, smiling, almost floating along the sidewalk, my eyes welling up with tears at what I just had the opportunity to experience. For the next 3 hours all senses heightened to the point of sheer contentment. Incredible.

Somebody slipped something in your drink. I didn't have anything to drink. You were stoned. Nope. Well, you're entirely overdramatic. Is this how you're gonna be about 13 & God on Friday? I wouldn't imagine so. Good.

Medical update: foot surgery in the bathtub=success. Splinter's gone. No infection. Minimal skin loss. No blood loss. Score.

Monday, September 19, 2005

CONTEST


I need help.

I need someone to help me with a name for the upcoming Housewarming Party I'll be hosting.

Please suggest.

Winner gets a super special something (maybe it's a tranquility fountain? wink wink) prize & the knowledge that they came up with something more creative than "No Pants Party. Come Warm my House Without Any Pants On. (just kidding please keep on your pants)"

Sunday, September 18, 2005

Family Fun Weekend, Part 2


So guess what I did this weekend? I'd prefer not to. But I know you're gonna go spill the beans anyways so go ahead.

I became an outdoor woman.

Crap. You've gotta warn me when you're gonna say stuff like that. Milk just shot out of my nose. That's hilarious. You haven't stayed anywhere but the 4 Seasons for like 7 years. That's not true. I stayed in the Luxor in Vegas. It kind of smelled in there. Okay, now that you have my attention, you've gotta finish your story. Okay.

So a couple months back mom was all "we need to bond" or something so she decided that we should go to some Outdoor Woman thing that she & a friend went to last year & they thought it was "great" or something so I asked if I could bring a friend & get drunk & she said "yeah" so I was all "okay". So we left Friday morning for the great outdoors. Fresh air. Stars. Campfire. "Rustic" cabins. S'mores that taste like the bugspray that's all over your hands.

We get there just in time for lunch & walked in to the "mess hall" & I was immediately thrown back to the days of Camp Chippewa Bay. That place was awesome. No it wasn't. It sucked and we had to sing for dessert & the counselors thought it was funny but uh, uh, man, that's not funny. No messin' when it comes to desserts. Ooooo...fatty wanted a piece of cake. How many times do I have to correct you. "Chunky".

Friday I learned all about Prehistoric Native American Pottery & then made some so I figured my friend, Alison, needed an ashtray so that's what I made but then we didn't fire them or anything so it was a totaly waste so now I'll just buy Alison an ashtray instead. There was this woman sitting next to me who was really quite annoying talking about how poor she was & stuff. It was pretty bizarre. So then Friday night we called owls & one of them effing landed on one lady's head to try & carry her off & eat her. Seriously? No, but it would have made for a good story, huh?

We heard some owls & then got bored so we played Rummy.

Saturday morningI learned how to make a tent out of a parachute & survive if I'm lost & make a teepee out of sticks & what's okay to eat from the outside & what's not (don't get on my bad side or you're gettin' a plant with milky-white stuff in the middle for dinner) & that I really would prefer not to ever get lost by myself in the woods, especially if there are bears around. Then in the afternoon I learned how to make all this really great stuff to eat in the outdoors. But they said that we would learn how to make chocolate eclairs over a campfire & they lied. We didn't learn. See, people fuckin' with my desserts again. This must be a conspiracy. And the best part of the day was counting how many times the instructor lady would say "Dutch Oven". Ha ha ha ha! Dutch Oven.

So I guess we bonded or whatever & it was all fun & I spanked everybody's ass at Rummy. And we met a magician so I asked him if Gob was his idol & he didn't know who I was talking about so then I asked him if Sage Francis was his idol & he didn't know who that was, either, so I gave up on that & just tried to figure out his tricks but couldn't.

I had a great time with mom & con & all of the other ladies (although some of them were kinda weird & some of them wore stonewashed jeans like AC Slater) & mom & I got to be great friends but we can't be best friends because she didn't appreciate Sage Francis really loud while driving through the woods and I really can't be best friends with someone who doesn't like Sage.

The End. (for now)

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Those kinds of friends.

That you can go to when there's a fork in the road to see if they've been there before & they'll tell you what they did & how it turned out. That applaud eating a milkshake for dinner if that's what you feel like. That you can tell anything without worrying about how they'll react. That you look forward to hearing their voice because that in & of itself is a comfort that let's you know it's all going to be okay. And then they tell you it's all going to be okay & tell you a funny story & you end up laughing more than you cried. That you can not see for years and when you do it's like you saw each other last week. That don't always take your side but help you to see all perspectives of a situation. That are like your mom but without the left over resentment from childhood punishment. That are like grandma but don't tell your mom what you did. That you've never fought with because there'd be absolutely no reason to. That you never want to see hurt but know that they must in order to live.

You sound like a fucking Hallmark (tm) card. Yeah, I know. I'll stop now. Thanks. No more serious, feeling shit out of you. Okay. I'll leave you with this cartoon song thing that a friend of mine sent me from Asia. He said that it's like the biggest thing over there right now.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

If I can call you Betty, betty you can call me tron.


Lame post: edition trois.

La la la. 3 kinda down, 4 to go. La la la.

Saturday sure was a good day. The best Saturday, September 10, 2005, I've had so far, anyway. The exercise taper is officially over as I hit the 'burbs for a jog on Saturday morning. Miles=2.7, Songs=6.2, Bugs eaten=3, Pukage=once a little in my mouth.

Speaking of puking a little bit in my mouth, 2 occurances come to mind from within the last week that made me do that (not including the sprint-induced one). First, I ran into Mr. My-head's-too-big-for-my-body-so-I-look-like-a-goddamn-lollipop Man last Tuesday at a dissertation party. He said hi. I gave a little hi & slight smile & b-lined it for other people to talk to. I can not believe that I actually took him to something as important as the Animal Collective show in April.

The second time came on Sunday when Erin said Smirnoff Vodka. Saturday night (as previously mentioned) was superfun & I had a supergreat time. Jessica cooked & we sat around & talked & no one had a wine opener so I went on an adventure asking people in the street & people in their homes if they had one & if so, could I borrow it & finally broke down & went to the mexican grocery where they don't sell beer but do sell wine bottle openers. Then we all sat around more & talked more & laughed & laughed & told jokes. And for the most important part, Nick & I decided that we need lifesize cardboard cutouts of each other since he's not a smoker so then he can go with everywhere & not have a sneezing fit & well I can't just have a cutout of him & that he needs one of me, too. Then we decided that we also needed lifesize cutouts of Scott Baio & Cathy Bates, to keep our cutouts safe from getting lonely when we're not with them, like at work. (jess: soooo sorry for spilling bloody mary on your stairs around 1 a.m., elbows seem to have a mind of their own at that hour. ice cream cake forgive me!)

Ice Cream Cake=the new Please

So much superfun that after Jessica's we went to Erin's for some post party for some cranberry vodka (you guessed it, Smirnoff *barf* vodka) on her roofdeck and talked about all these crazy things, like Charlie Chaplin & Audrey Hepburn & stuff. I walked home barefoot & now have some little thing in my heel that I need to dig out. So the next day, Erin & I decided that we should move into the Robie House because it's already so close to our homes now but there would be 2 rules...1. No pants. Ever. & 2. No Smirnoff Vodka (that's when the lil' puke came up). But she likes Smirnoff Vodka so that wouldn't work out so well so I guess we won't be living in the Robie House.

In Other News: the cookies promised to the fire department are coming along well as the dough is made & sitting in the fridge. I'm gonna make them & cook some meat tonight on the grill & meet my friend, Alison's, new baby daughter, Abigail (I'm gonna give her her first lacrosse stick, so excited!). And if chi-towners are in the area, you should stop by, especially if you're a big, strong man (big strong women totally cool, too) because I have some chairs & half a table to take to the dumpster & I'll pay you in cookies & meat. But call first because I might be at the Fire Department handing out cookies in my underpants.

This link was stolen from The West Washingtonians. Thank you!

Sunday, September 11, 2005

The Days when Love was on a string


I went to her party last night. Fun had by all. Many many many spanks to Jessica for opening up your heart & your home & cooking amazing food. Big hug.

Will post more about that later since I'm at work late on a Sunday night. Most of proposal due this week=done. Only a month & a half until I get to space out at work for 8 hours/day again. Sweet.

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Official Hug Your Local Fireman Day


Guess who locked herself out of her apartment? Goldie Hawn? No, guess again. Rupaul? Rupaul's a man, idiot. I did. Walked right out on to the landing & realized that I did not have my janitoresque keyring. Damnit. What to do? I was supposed to give my extra keys to a friend but hadn't because my stepmom stopped by to drop off more shit to unpack while I was in MI.

(sidenote: why is it that when you're moving, people want to give you more shit to pack, move & unpack? probably an unsolved mystery, just like the unsolved mystery of why human beings find it necessary to choose doorways to stand in or why chocolate milk that you buy at the store is so much thicker than the stuff you make at home, no matter how many experiments you conduct to get it thick.)

Woah. Woah. Woah. You let your stepmom into your apartment without you being there? I think you're missing the real issue at hand. Da Bro was there with her to make sure she wasn't all up in my shit. And? She bought me some kind of "serenity fountain" & "Irish souvenir crystal" & cracked my Rabbit Songs disc in half & then totally hid it. I bet that crystal has some sort of video camera in it so she can spy on you to get all the dirt. You may be on to something.

Just because you're paradoid doesn't mean that someone's not out to get you.

Okay, so I locked myself out & started cursing & all like "shit. goddamn bitch of a bleepit bleepy bleep bleep" & so I think my neighbors think that I have tourette syndrome now or something. So I calmed down & called the Locksmith & he was all "it'll be about-ah fidty dollers to come out dere & about-ah hundurd and some dollers to getcha in and it'll be about-ah four hours er so til we can get out dere. you gonna pay wit cash or card?". The thought of putting my hand through the back window was sounding REALLY good. Then a brilliant idea came to my mind. You know, like the ones that put a lightbulb above your head & stuff.

Who saves poor damsels in distress? THE FIRE DEPARTMENT!

Since it's like 3 blocks from casa nueva I walked, walked, walked over there & in my sweetest, most innocent voice said,"Um, excuse me, Mr. Fireman. I have a little bit of a problem. Um, I locked myself out of my apartment & was wondering if you could help me. I know you guys have a whole lot of REALLY BIG TRUCKS & LADDERS here" (I was lifting up my skirt a little bit, too, to reveal one of the lovely bruises I acquired in the move. H O T.) And the chief looked at me with disgust & said, "What?". So then I dropped the cute act & told him the story & said that I had a balcony & it'd be really nice if I could borrow one of those big ladders because then I could just crawl up on a ladder & climb in. No fuss. No muss. Straight simple-like. And I'd bake them cookies for being so great. So he said to go get on my way & they'd meet me over at my place & they did. There were like a dozen of them. It's like there was a kitten stuck in a tree or something serious like that. So then everybody on the street thought it was all serious & stuff, which it wasn't but it was turned into this big production. Seriously, I thought that maybe I was on Hidden Camera or something but then realized that I'd recruited them for the job. Long story drawn out, I owe some firemen some cookies now.

THANK YOU CHICAGO FIRE DEPARTMENT!! (you're my heroes for this week)

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Weekend x 1.5 = awesome action-packed


Splitsville. Outa here. Gone. Friday night rolled around & it was time. Time to go. Time to live the life of the less boring. Visit rural Michigan, where everybody's got a moustache & a mullet but nobody's got a full set of teeth. Packed to the hilt with caffeinated soda & house music to keep us awake, Con & I took off & didn't look back because it's very unsafe to drive forward while looking behind you. Bop bop bop we went for 2.5 hours, finding our landing place in the middle of nowhere complete with lots of stars & even more dead animals on the side of the road. Pa done gone hit supper.

Saturday was consumed with nothing. No cleaning (I dusted down a piece of newspaper last week that'd been stuck up on the top of the bathroom cabinet. Date=July 17, 1977. Holy shit.). No unpacking. We learned all about hicks & how they live & what they eat & stuff. This isn't "action packed". You can't even become less boring right. Man, you're worse off than I thought. I haven't gotten to the good part. Turns out hicks live pretty well. We ate crab-stuffed mushrooms & watched the sunset on a pier for dinner.

And when the sun went down we learned just what hicks are good at. Partying. One of the hick parties was passing out shots of Jagermeister but we decided no on that to go to the other hick party. The outside hick party with the karaoke machine & some lady that made Con drink this big Alabama Slammer thing & then she puked. Poor Con. So to cheer her up I promised that we would sing. And sing we did. We sang so great that after we sang this they shut the karaoke down. I guess everybody else would just sound too terrible after such beautiful voices of angels took the stage. Con sang, I danced. And then I walked into some house where I didn't know anybody & they were ALL ABOUT Nascar. And they asked me who I was & if I would please leave now. And then we all sat around the fire & Con & I were the only girls, surrounded by all of these men who wanted to know everything about us like where we were from & what was our favorite color & did we have boyfriends & what were our majors. I felt like I was rushing a sorority again. And then some kids around our age showed up & joined the fire.

It got hit on by a 16 year old. Score.

After chitty chatty until 6:30 in the morning & like 4.5 hours of sleep & having had so much hick fun & a big country breakfast we hit the road back to the big city.

Cure for Pain.

So we're driving along with our peaches & apples & mums & I see it. "Omigod, Con! Do you see what I see?" "No, I can't barely open my eyes & I want a hot dog." "Well, you just missed a sign." "You're driving on the highway, there are signs everywhere." "No, I mean a real sign. Like one of those burning bush types of things." "Uh, okay. What was it?" "A billboard for a waterpark." I have officially discovered the best hangover cure, EVER. Go to a waterpark. Both of us were completely cured from any kind of hurting we had simply by putting on bathing suits & going down "The Tower" & swimming in the wave pool & laughing, laughing, laughing. It was really funny to hang out with Indiana hicks in a waterpark, too. They were all like Hank Hill with really bad farmer's tans & stuff.

Con thought that middle America should see what she looks like naked so she wore her see-through suit that the bottoms don't stay up so well. She had a lot of boys following her around.

Speaking of boys. The experiment is kerplunked. It was supposed to be a surprise but now it's ruined. In an attempt to bolster Operation Life Less Boring, I thought I should go on a date. You know, when you pretend to be someone else & somebody pays for your dinner & you might end up making out but that's only if you're a ho or you haven't gotten any in a while. But where would I find a date? A personal ad. So I talked it over with Con before I responded or anything & she said that she would totally go & spy (just like I did for her blind date a couple months ago) so it was all set & it was all gonna go down & Alison was gonna spy, too, & it was gonna be and AWESOME STORY & everybody involved thought it was a great, fun idea. And then it didn't go down & I heard nothing else from him. Nothing.

I got stood up by someone who doesn't even know me.

Which kinda pissed me off so I wanted to like call or write or something & be all "hey, listen buddy. you're the one who's missing out. you don't know it but i'm fucking hot. yeah. take that mo fo. what kind of a fucking name is brad, anyway" But then I remembered that I was only doing this for story's sake & I didn't really want to meet someone through a personal ad because that's just plain creepy, you know? So now I have to put Experiment B into action because I said that it was gonna be an awesome experiment & it didn't happen & so I kinda totally made you guys think something spectacular was gonna happen but it didn't. Sorry.

Toodles.

Friday, September 02, 2005

My Heart...

is the bums on the street, with nothing to eat and their dirty hands cupped up. My heart is the squirrels in the park, late Sunday evening dodging the raindrops. My heart is a barrel on fire that blows burnin’ ashes at a telephone wire. My heart is the avenue wind rattlin’ street signs with its delicate din.
What did I do to cause you to leave me? Girl if you just knew what I’m goin’ through. I lost my pride, my head hangs in sorrow. Every inch of the city reminds me of you… (marah).

Well THAT'S a pretty depressing song. Actually, it's really upbeat & turns quite happy. I'd highly recommend listening to it. Oh yeah? And I just checked their website & they'll be at the Abbey on the 27th of next month. Gonna go? We'll see. You seem pretty upbeat & cheery this morning. Why? Somebody bought me breakfast this morning. Oh no you di-in't. Get your mind out of the gutter. My mom stayed with me last night so we could get a bunch of cleaning done. That's it? All it takes to make you happy is to clean & buy you a peach turnover? Sheesh, you're a sucker. A cup of coffee seals the deal. Coming in to work & hearing "The Heart's a Lonely Hunter" is pretty sweet too.

I got to work all early this morning because I had an appointment for another Hepatitis innoculation. (ouwee!) There was nothing to do so I got a psychic reading. It claimed it was going to tell me all about my karma & stuff or something. Here it is...

Chapter 1: Nodes of the Moon (Your Karmic Doorways) North Node of the Moon in Virgo Find out more with your full-length reading...

Much confusion clouded your reasoning in prior lives. You relied upon others for direction and your superstitions held you prisoner. I don't really think so but what do you guys think? Yeah? No? Hold on, I'll consult my tea leaves.

Your judgement is still colored by emotion and you are easily swayed by another's tales of woe. You have a great intuitive ability but your sensitivity to others' emotional states can trigger bouts of depression. Staying in sweats on a couch all weekend staring at a window is not depression. It's called recouping from a long week.

Since your emotions can adversely affect your health, you should take extra care with your diet and exercise regimen. Avoid alcohol and non-prescription drugs. But prescription drugs are fine? Hey Danindrome, I'd like to call in a favor.

Happy weekend suckas!

Thursday, September 01, 2005

Bits & Pieces


It's done. What's done? Did you write a book or something? No, I'm done moving. Oh right. That dumb thing that made you "feel feelings" or whatever last weekend. No, the feelings came straight from beer & listening to Dar Williams.

I was going to start by writing about how on Tuesday evening Nick found a mouse or baby rat on the sidewalk on the way to the old place & saved it & it creeped me out because face it, rodents are creepy. But it died & that was so sad & Nick has the biggest heart ever so I think I'm gonna buy him a new rodent pet.

And then I was gonna tell you about how crappy the movers were that came to the old place & took all the stuff out of there & put it in the new place. Snippets from yesterday before noon include the following:

  1. A 5 minute discussion as to how they planned to move one piece of furniture. It's a dresser. Pick it up & move it, idiot.
  2. "Dat look like a big jewry box. All yo stuff look like big jewry box." Yes, that's nice. Please move the jewelry box.
  3. One of the movers was probably 15, very thin & asthmatic.
  4. The truck's max speed was 10 mi/hr & literally bounced down the street (seriously, y'all got hydrolics on that shit?). Very funny to see from a rear-view mirror.
  5. More crappy mover stuff that's boring. O! And I paid them close to $400 for me to move more boxes than Slim. I counted.

Who wants to donate a backrub?

But then I was all...that stuff's negative & boring, where's the interesting part? Then came in the creepy neighbor. Erin got to meet him last night. I saw him last week & he said, "you left for work today earlier than you usually do." I shit you not. Response=walk right past & not say a word. Well, he stopped in while I was cleaning & just sat there & talked & asked questions for like 15 effing minutes until he got the hint that I was not going to acknowledge or talk to him.

No, psychopath, I am not going to give you my new address.

And then I was going to tell you how I was all getting shit straightened up around the new home & shit but then remembered that I didn't really do that last night. I mean, yeah, I put up a shower curtain & talked to Gobbles. Omigod! That was the big news. Gobbles might be coming in to town. I'm trying to talk him into coming for the housewarming party because he is a partay person like no other partay person I've ever met, except maybe Tom & Ensley but they're fuckin' off the hook. Maybe they should meet each other. Like a partay person set-up. And Caleb's supposed to drop in for a visit soon, too, maybe. One of the last times that he & I hung out we ended up climbing on top of some bank & trying to steal a street sweeper & running from the cops that weren't even after us. Good times.

In other news: experiment is to take place on Monday. You will learn all of the details on Tuesday, unless something goes really wrong. Ha ha ha ha ha. This one is awesome. You guys'll like it.

p.s. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU NICK & ERIN FOR HELPING SO MUCH YOU COULDN'T EVEN IMAGINE HOW MUCH THIS WEEK!!!!!!!!!! (i seriously owe you 2)