Well, That Was Random . . . .

The Spider That Wouldn't Die

2010-07-01T22:21:00.001-04:00

I have feared spiders since birth. Well, maybe not birth. I was a trifle busy that day. But sometime after that I found out that there were spiders. I realized on my own that they were evil. Works, if you will, of Beelzebub, Satan, The Dark One Who Lives Below.

Up until I was nine my mother killed all spiders for me. In our house, in the car, in the yard. I made her kill spiders in stores. I could not suffer a spider to live. It freaked me out to think that they were still there . . . Somewhere . . . Probably plotting to crawl across my face as I slept. They had to be destroyed. My mother was the spider eradicator.

One evening, when I was nine, I was sitting on the floor of our living room watching television. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a movement. I turned. Time seemed to stop. There, standing not four feet from me, was a spider. I shrieked for my mother as if Freddy Kruger were breaking in to murder me. My mother, naturally, came a runnin’.

What greeted my mother’s panicked eyes? Me screaming in front of the television and pointing at the floor. The spider, you see, was so small that she couldn’t see it until she knelt down beside me…and squinted. She pointed this out to me. I continued to hyperventilate. My mother decided that this tiny creature would be my first kill. My practice spider, if you will. A warm up for all the times she wouldn’t be there later on in life and I’d have to squash spiders with extreme prejudice by myself.

My mother handed me a rolled up magazine. I took it with hands made shaky with fear. I took a deep breath, crawled up behind the spider, in case it decided to bolt (how did I decide what the back was? No idea. I just knew.), raised my arm and…THWACK! The magazine came down on the spider with all the miniscule strength in my nine year old arm. I looked under the magazine. The spider moved. I hit it again. I looked again. The spider crawled to the left. I hit it again…and again…and again. I looked. The spider crept to the right….And this, my friends, is when I lost my mind.

I grabbed my math book and began pounding the spider over and over again while screaming, at the top of my considerable lungs, DIE! DIE! My mother, who had gone back to the kitchen, came a runnin’ once again. She grabbed me up and sat me on the couch. I continued to stare, fixedly, at the book laying on top of, what I assumed was, The Spider Who Wouldn’t Die. She demanded to know what had happened.

Through my tears I looped up at my mother. “It won’t die,” I said. “It has to die.” My mother went over and lifted up the book. She took a tissue from the side table, scooped up the spider, and squished it between her paper covered fingers. “There,” she said. “Dead. Happy now?” I nodded.

I never had to kill another spider….

F*ck Cinnabon!

2010-03-28T00:04:00.018-04:00

I saw this recipe on PBS a couple of weeks ago and I thought I’d give it a try. Well, I’m here to tell you, it’s a lot of steps but the smell alone is worth it. And the taste? See title of post.

Ultimate Cinnamon Buns courtesy of Cook’s Country

Dough:
¾ Cup Whole Milk (heated to 110 degrees)
2 ¼ Teaspoons Rapid-Rise Yeast
3 Large Eggs (room temperature)
4 ¼ Cups All-Purpose Flour
½ Cup Cornstarch
½ Cup Granulated Sugar
1 ½ Teaspoons Salt
12 Tablespoons Unsalted Butter (softened & cut into 12 pieces)

1 Medium Bowl - Greased
1 13x9 Inch Baking Pan - Lined W/Tin Foil (grease the tin foil)

1. Place oven rack in middle position. Heat oven to 200 degrees & then shut it off.

2. Whisk milk & yeast together in measuring cup or small bowl until yeast dissolves.

3. Whisk in the eggs.
4. In bowl of stand mixer (trust me, you need a stand mixer…go buy one. Now.) combine flour, cornstarch, sugar & salt. Attach dough hook. Mix flour mixture on low till all ingredients are combined.
5. With mixer on low speed, pour in milk, egg & yeast mixture in a slow steady stream.

6. Mix until dough comes together.

7. Increase speed of mixer to medium & add butter, one piece at a time, until it’s incorporated (1 minute…maybe 1 ½).

8. Continue to mix, on medium speed, until dough comes away from bowl and is smooth (10 minutes…maybe 11).
9. Turn dough out onto a clean surface and knead to form a smooth, round ball.

10. Transfer dough to prepared bowl, cover it with plastic wrap & put it in the oven till it doubles in size (2 hours should do it).
The above will become the below. It's like magic. Only, ya' know, not.

Filling:
1 ½ Cups Light Brown Sugar - Packed
1 ½ Tablespoons Cinnamon
¼ Teaspoons Salt
4 Tablespoons Unsalted Butter - Softened

11. Turn dough out onto lightly floured surface.

12. Roll dough out into as close to an 18 inch square as you can. Remember, you are not a professional pastry chef, it doesn’t have to be perfect. Put the ruler away. Why make yourself crazy?

13. In a small bowl combine brown sugar, cinnamon & salt.

14. Leaving a ½ inch border (or thereabouts) around the edge, spread the butter on the dough. An offset spatula is your friend.

15. Sprinkle filling mixture over buttered dough. Press it lightly into dough so that it doesn’t fall out later.
16. Starting with the edge nearest you, roll the dough into a tight cylinder. Pinch the seam to seal it.

17. Cut the dough into 12 rounds. The original recipe says this makes 8. I don’t know about you but I don’t happen to want or need to eat a cinnamon bun as big as my head so I cut it into 12. You can do 8 if you want. Good luck with that.

18. Place buns, cut side up, on tin foil covered pan.

19. Cover with plastic wrap & leave in warm place to proof (about an hour).

BREAK: Eat a meal. Run an errand. Paint a picture. Up to you.

20. Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees.

21. Remove plastic wrap & place buns in oven.

22. Bake for 30 - 35 minutes.

Glaze:
4 Ounces Cream Cheese - Softened
1 Tablespoon Whole Milk
1 Teaspoon Vanilla Extract
1 ½ Cups Confectioner’s Sugar

23. Remove buns from oven & place whole tray on wire rack.

24. Whisk together glaze ingredients.

25. The original recipe calls for you to glaze buns with ½ of glaze at this point & then, after 30 minutes, apply the rest of the glaze. Well, if you want to go into a sugar coma, you go ahead. The first application of glaze was more than enough in my world. But, like I always say, it’s up to you.

26. Serve.

"Perfection Is Intensely Annoying." - Hugh Laurie

2010-03-23T18:32:00.004-04:00

I don’t blog enough. I know. . . I know. . . I know! But, you should know that when people point this out to me it only hurts you, the reader. Why? Because you know what you get now. You all know what time it is, boys and girls. Say it with me…

Stream of Consciousness Time With Fury (insert theme song of your choosing)!

I really don’t think I have the energy to do this today. Why did I start this? Dumb. That’s why. Why did I decide not to ingest caffeine anymore? Again, dumb. No. That’s not dumb. That’s not dumb at all. Especially when you consider that I drank so much coffee last Monday? Was it? Whatever. So much caffeine that I was practically levitating above my bed like Sigourney Weaver in Ghostbusters and my heart was beating out a conga (CONGA! [sorry, that’s only funny if you’re related to me or have ever seen “My Sister, Eileen”. You probably haven’t. You should. Unless you don’t like musicals and then not so much.]) rhythm that could have powered Brazil through all of Carnival. OK. Fine. It wasn’t that bad. Happy now? It’s called colorful language. Learn to live with it. Where was I? Fuck. I forgot. Oh. Caffeine. It’s the devil’s work. But I need it. Need. It. Sleepy & yet still can’t sleep so well. Hello, insomnia, how you doin’? I get tired at around midnight. I lay down. I continue to lay there. Staring up at the ceiling. Or the wall. Or the other wall. Or the closet door. It’s good times. How does one count sheep? I can’t picture sheep jumping over fences in my head. Maybe because I’ve never seen a sheep do that. Wander around in a big cluster of smelly, stupid confusion? Seen it. Jump things? Nope. What kind of sheep go around jumping walls? I think they must be thinking of mountain goats. Or deer. Not sheep. Or maybe sheep were a lot more energetic back whenever that expression started. Now I want to know when that was exactly. I will not look it up. I have enough useless knowledge at my disposal without looking that…mid 19th century. Damn. It. You win this round OCD. Which should really be CDO. They only do it the other way to mess with us. I know it. Just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get me. They? Who is this “They” you speak of? Them. Oh. Them. Well, that explains everything. Have I lost you yet?

Great. Now that They’re gone and it’s just you and me, tell me, is it true what They say about you?

"Who needs astrology? The wise man gets by on fortune cookies." ~Edward Abbey

2010-01-11T18:18:00.001-05:00

Horoscope For Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Aries (March 21 - April 19) -

You need to be as honest as you can be today--someone needs to hear the truth and nothing but. It’s easier than ever for you to tell people what they need to hear, even if they don’t think they’re ready…or even if they don’t particularly care to hear it. Nobody wants to hear about how tired they look or that their baby looks like a monkey but, hey, as far as you’re concerned honesty is the best policy so who cares who gets hurt? Just watch out for violent reactions. Having your foot surgically removed from your mouth is expensive…and painful.

Taurus (April 20 - May 20) -

For once, you’re totally certain you’re heading in the right direction. Let go of your illusions of self-control and just dive headfirst into the madness. Medication is for sissy Mary’s! Go au natural down that rabbit hole and let the chips fall where they may. At some point a friend or family member will have you committed & you’ll get a nice long rest out of it. Aaaahhh…vacation.

Gemini (May 21 - June 21) -

Beware of bossy pals. There’s not much you can do to shut them up so try to just smile and nod your head and wait for them to get bored. If that doesn’t work there’s always duct tape & a baseball bat.

Cancer (June 22 - July 22) -

You can’t make up your mind very easily today, and that may be driving you crazy. You need to get some advice, but deciding between advisors may pose its own little problems as well. Hot cereal or cold? Coke or Pepsi? Meth or Crack? Oh, my sainted aunt, how to choose?! Just lie down with a cool cloth on your head & decide tomorrow.

Leo (July 23 - August 22) -

You’re out on the cutting edge once again, making people wonder how they can keep going on with the same-old same-old. It’s not that you want them to feel bad…much. It’s just that you’re so much better than everybody else. Is it your fault that the lives of the peasants are unforgiving and uncool? We think not. Just slip on your shades and swagger away…you pop-collared fuck.

Virgo (August 23 - September 22) -

You’d love to skip the whole flirtation stage and go right into, say, living together, but this person doesn’t even know you exist yet. It’s probably time to overcome the tension (that exists perhaps solely in your mind) and, you know, say something to them. . . Or you can keep trying to send psychic messages and hoping that your aura will hover above the crowd like a neon arrow. While you’re at it why not try bending spoons with your mind? It’s a nice party trick.

Libra (September 23 - October 22) -

Even someone as balanced as you can feel a little frustrated or blue now and then. Enlist your sweetheart’s aid for a little cheering up -- or tell them to leave you the hell alone for two minutes for the love of God! Seriously! Back up! Can a person get some space? Damn, yo, what is their glitch? Ya’ know what? You may have to cut a bitch. We do not in any way endorse this…but we do understand.

Scorpio (October 23 - November 21) -

Are you still holding onto an old grudge? It’s time to forgive, even if you can’t quite forget. Even if this person is no longer part of your life, you are still letting them affect your current prospects. So, put the voodoo doll down and step away from the cyber stalking. ‘Kay? Take a deep breath. . . You can do it. . . We have faith in you. OK? Now, see? That wasn’t so bad, was it? Good job. Next we’ll work on sleeping with the light off!

Sagittarius (November 22 - December 21) -

It’s time to suit up for the game of love. This isn’t like seventh grade phys ed; here, everyone gets to play, no matter what…well, it might be a little like seventh grade phys ed. Somebody has to be picked last after all. I’m sure it has nothing to do with your hair lip. . . Or that funny, well, let’s call it an odor. No, certainly not. . . It’s your personality. Let’s face facts. It’s not them. It’s you.

Capricorn (December 22 - January 19) -

Despair is too easy to embrace today -- but if you do, expect to hang on to it for quite a while. You’re much better off enforcing optimism in yourself and…oh, who are we kidding. Life is pain. Life is earnest. Life’s a bitch and then you die…what were we saying? Oh, right. Optimism. Sure. Try that. See where it gets you!

Aquarius (January 20 - February 18) -

Help is needed! Hold on, it’s on its way -- if you can get it together enough to ask your partner for it. The stars urge you to do so -- your honey can provide a badly needed reality check. For instance, you will never get out of debt if you keep using one credit card to pa off another. And, listen carefully to this one because it’s key, you don’t look good in skinny jeans and guy liner if you’re a 46 year old gym teacher named Burt.

Pisces (February 19 - March 20) -

You’ve got quite a lot going on right now, so see if you can get your friends and colleagues to help out. And by help out we mean do the whole damn thing. Because, let’s face facts, they’re better at this stuff, whatever it is, than you are. Also, why deprive people of the greatest gift of all? The gift of helping others. It ups their karma quotient and you get to take a nap. It’s win win, by God!

It is easy to get a thousand prescriptions but hard to get one single remedy. ~Chinese Proverb

2009-12-08T09:02:00.001-05:00

Fun fact! Did you know that if you take 1 percocet every 4 hours, as prescribed by your physician, for two weeks your body will become, for lack of a better word . . . And because it’s the word that should be used, addicted? Me neither! So, if your physician tells you to take 2 pills every 4 hours for 6 weeks, um, yeah. Don’t do it.

I have been taking percocet off and on for the past 6 weeks. Not at the dosage prescribed by my doctor, thank God. Nope, I’m a little soldier who attempts, if possible, to suck it up. So, I’ve been taking maybe 2 a day. I haven’t had much pain for the past 2 days so I haven’t taken any. And, hence, therefore and thusly I woke up after the 2 hours of sleep (5:30 - 7:30 AM) that I was able to get (you try sleeping in a neck brace and see how well you do) with wicked spasms in my arms. I, being me, went immediately to the bad place and thought that I’d managed to break my neck in my sleep…even though I hadn’t moved. But then I thought about the fact that I wasn’t in much pain so, really, what are the odds that a broken neck wouldn’t hurt? Slim to none. Second bad place I went to? Percocet addiction. DING! DING! We may have a winner. Apparently, when your body is trying to rid itself of the demon opiate it spasms. DT’s, anyone?

Now, after waking up and going to multiple bad places (they don’t call me Dark Fury for nothing, after all) I went and read my prescription hand out for the valium which I was also given in case, and I quote, “you start getting muscle spasms.” How, I have been wondering, would Valium help with that? Well, kids, Valium is used to treat symptoms of detox. So, either I’m supposed to be spasming as part of my regular recovery or they bloody knew that I would need them to get through tossing the Percocet. Great. I feel good about that. Wait…not so much. If they knew I’d be spasming during my recovery should they not have told me why? Or, if they knew I’d need them to get through pitching the opiates should they not have told me that as well? Apparently not. Super.

Let us be clear, I am not in any way a Percocet junkie. Opiates are good for pain management and that’s about it. How people get high off this shit I have yet to figure out. It cuts the pain in half and makes you go to sleep. Woo Hoo! Party time? Nope. Not so much. Sleepy time? You betcha’. And, as an insomniac, I can understand the appeal of that but, seriously, it only put me to sleep for about an hour. Big whoop. Not worth it. Tylenol PM is a better sleep aid. But, I digress! I took the Valium and now the spasms have subsided. Also, I may be able to catch a nap if I’m quick about it. I have a finite window for drug induced sleep as for some reason the drugs don’t work so well for me. I blame my hippie gene pool. My father smoked so much dope, dropped so much acid (even though he always had a bad trip . . . the man ain’t right in the head) and took so many pills (no, so many, seriously, he used to go and pick them out by color combination…as in yellow and blue make green so I’ll take 3 of each…what? We’re artsy people.) that I’m convinced that I have opiates and THC permanently embedded in my DNA making it almost impossible for me to get any sort of wacky effect from pain meds. Go, father, it’s your birthday. Hopefully his other kids have inherited this trait as it makes surgery so much easier. Of course, on the down side, he loved morphine and that crap makes me sick as a dog. Oh, well, we can’t have everything in this life.

So, whether or not you decide to follow your doctors orders, if ever you should , God forbid, have a need for pain management is up to you and, let’s face facts, if it’s a fatal disease or a truly horrific incident you shouldn’t worry about the addictive properties. But, as one pal to another, if you can do without it then I advise you to do so. Thus ends my PSA for the day. . . .

Of course, it may just be that after the surgery my muscles and nerves which were injured by the condition which needed fixing are regenerating or attempting in some way to right themselves….Who knows? But why go to the good place when bad is so much easier and I don’t need GPS to get there?

“Look in a mirror and one thing's sure; what we see is not who we are.” Richard Bach

2009-11-17T03:07:00.000-05:00

Brushing your teeth shouldn’t be a mine field. It should, in fact, have no emotion attached to it at all. Tooth paste on the brush. Brush up. Brush down. Brush side to side. Brush the back teeth. Brush the tongue to avoid halitosis. Be thorough because anything worth doing is worth doing well…especially when it helps you keep your teeth. Teeth are important. Important but not an emotional battle ground. No, brushing your teeth shouldn’t make you reevaluate your life. And it wouldn’t either if it weren’t for that damn mirror.

There it is. Morning and night . Every morning and every night of your entire life staring back at you. Showing you every change. Whether you want to see it or not. And, as you get older and your mother starts leaving bridal magazines around the house when you drop by and suggesting names for your future imaginary children while knowing full well that you don’t know, in point of fact have never known, any man you’d like to spend a month with let alone a life, the mirror can be a friend and a foe.

It can be a bastard setting you up for the big fall when you come home at two o’clock in the morning when your face is showing the wear and tear of a good time. Mascara streaks. Lipstick fades. Powder settles. And then, Mr. Demille, you truly think your mother is right. You’re not getting any younger. You are, as it happens, getting older every minute. This minute, this one right now, is the oldest you’ve ever been…until this minute…and then, of course, there’s this one. Well, it may be better than the alternative but it doesn’t feel so hot at the time. The mirror isn’t to blame. It’s just a reflection of what is. But, as every woman knows, there are good mirrors and bad mirrors. Mirrors that flatter and mirrors that solidly tell what may be the truth and may be a grave insult. And none of the good mirrors are on duty at two o’clock. You think the wicked witch in the fairy tale must have had a two o’clock mirror. You brush your teeth and you go to bed.

In the morning a mirror can be magic. It can reassure you that despite the sins of last night or a lifetime that you still look pretty damn good in the morning without makeup or even a hair brush. You wish you could take credit for it but you know that that’s all down to genetics. When do you ever remember to moisturize? You don’t. And, sin of sins, you usually, despite purchasing all manner of expensive facial cleansers, wash your face with regular soap. The horror! The only contribution you make is SPF protection on a semi-regular basis. So, clearly, the good moments have nothing to do with you and may, now that you think about it, be the mirror giving not you but your mother a compliment since she’s the one who gave you the good genes to begin with. But a compliment is a compliment and you’ll take it. And, after the two o’clock mirror of the night before when you thought that you would have to immediately check yourself into an upscale “spa” in Mexico City for a quick “freshening up” the eleven o’clock mirror is your pal and your coconspirator. It assures you that no matter what anybody might say, including yourself, you are not in fact the hag of the western world. That there are still good times to come and to be had. And that, if the Lord be willin’ and the crick don’t rise, you’ll have the face you see staring back at you for a good five more years at least. You believe in genetics and SPF. You can face the world. But first you brush your teeth because fresh breath is important.

"Compassion is not weakness, and concern for the unfortunate is not socialism.” Hubert Humphrey

2009-09-22T22:13:00.006-04:00

"“In Obama’s worldview, our trust is in government not in God. A denial of how God designed and created our economic and social systems to actually work in the real world."
Minnesota Family Council PresidentTom Prichard

Why is universal health care such a scary concept? Is it because it’s sometimes called socialized medicine? Why is that frightening? Because it contains the word social which makes people think of Socialism which, in turn, makes them think of Communism…which is dumb.

If people without access to health care are given access that doesn't mean that somebody is going to goose step into your home and start taking your stuff…unless they’re a National Socialist*. . . in which case you have bigger problems than who’s taking your TV. So, calm down and start thinking of ways to fake a Prussian family tree. But! I digress. Universal health care, at it’s core, is a very Judeo/Christian concept. The strong take care of the weak in order to hopefully turn the weak into the strong some day. It’s a do unto others kind of a deal.

And this is why the "religious right" are wrong. They stand there in their two thousand dollar suits and pumps and talk about family values and Christian ethics while proudly fingering their WWJD? bracelets and, basically, flip the bird to the poor. Hell, to the middle class! And if, God forbid, you’re gay? Get right outta’ town!

No.

Seriously.

Go.

They don’t want you in their town. Unless, of course, you’ve been to a “reprogramming” camp or seminar and men /women no longer hold any sway over you…except for in public bathroom stalls…and then they’ll elect you to congress. I digress. Again. Sorry.

How can people say they abide by and have no faith in any teaching but those of Jesus Christ (Yeshua Bar Yoseph…look it up.) behave in this way? It maddens me. They quote and they quote and they spout their hate for every kind but our kind till their faces turn red. And, the funny part, if there is a funny part, is that these people have, in fact, studied the bible. All of their quotes come from the bible. But they skipped some important stuff.

Blessed are the peace makers: for they shall be called sons of God.

If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.

It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.

Love thy neighbor as thyself.

These are the rocks of the faith as I understand it. let’s face facts, if Jesus was alive today they’d want him deloused before being allowed into their eminent presences. And then, after he gave the sermon on the mount, they’d call him a dirty, hippie, commie Jew…well, they’d leave out the Jew bit. . . But, come on, they’d think it.

My point, if I may be permitted to believe I have one, is that a true person of God, any God, doesn’t turn their back on the infirm. They don’t pull themselves above the muck and then kick the people down who are trying to pull themselves up as well. They try to help those people. Why? Because that’s what a person does. Anything else makes you a schmuck.

So, the question is simple, my fellow Americans, do you want to help your fellow man? Or do you want to be a schmuck? And if you, just for a minute, look down at that shiny little bracelet of yours and actually think about the question I think you’ll find the right answer.

*FYI - not Socialists but Fascists

15 Books in 15 Minutes

2009-08-24T23:00:00.000-04:00

Rules: Don't take too long to think about it. Fifteen books you've read that will always stick with you. First fifteen you can recall in no more than 15 minutes.

1. To Kill a Mockingbird
2. Good Omens
3. A Christmas Carol
4. The Poetry and Short Stories of Dorothy Parker
5. Without Feathers
6. Maus: A Survivor’s Tale
7. The Selected Poems of Federico Garcia-Lorca Bilingual Edition
8. The Scarlet Letter
9. War & Peace (because I hate it so much)
10. Pride & Prejudice
11. Persuasion
12. The Color Purple
13. Daughters of Decadence: Women Writers of The Fin De Siecle
14. Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal
15. Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture

And, because you know I can’t just list 15 books…

Bonus Round!

16. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
17. The Handmaid’s Tale
18. The Ode Less Traveled: Unlocking the Poet Within
19. Right Ho, Jeeves
20. I, Claudius

What Heaven Might Smell Like

2009-08-22T14:30:00.002-04:00

First, you should know that I took pictures for this post. 9 pictures. From mise en place to finished product! Sadly, I can’t find the damn cord to connect my I-Phone to my laptop. Damn. Damn. That’s right, double damn! Oh, well.

I found this recipe on NPR. I haven’t tasted it yet but if Heaven has a smell it smells like this cake. Make it. Now.

Lemon Pound Cake With Rose Water Glaze

CAKE:

1 ¾ Cups All-Purpose Flour
1 Teaspoon Baking Powder
1 Teaspoon Baking Soda
1 Cup Unsalted Butter At Room Temperature
1 Cup Sugar
3 Large Eggs At Room Temperature
1 Tablespoon Grated Lemon Zest
2 Teaspoons Lemon Extract
1 Cup Sour Cream

Preheat oven to 350.

Grease & flour a 12 cup bundt pan.

Sift the flower, baking powder & baking soda together into a small bowl.
Set it aside.

In a medium bowl beat the butter & sugar together until light and fluffy. If you have a stand mixer (it’s the only way to fly!) put it on medium high, set a timer for 1 minute & let it rip. After 1 minute scrape down the sides. Set the timer for 3 minutes & let it rip again. Golden.

Scrape down the sides of the bowl.

Add the lemon zest, rind and eggs. Beat for 2 minutes.

Scrape down the sides of the bowl.

Add half the flower & beat on low speed just till combined.

Add half the sour cream & beat till combined.

Scrape down the bowl.

Add the rest of the flour & beat on low speed just till combined.

Add the rest of the sour cream & beat till combined.

Scrape down the sides.

Spoon (the batter is way too thick to pour) the batter into the prepared bundt pan. Smooth it out and make it as even as possible.

Bake for 35 - 40 minutes.

Test cake with cake tester/tooth pick/uncooked piece of spaghetti (what? It’s what my grandfather used…of course, we had a lot of spaghetti in the house.). If it comes out clean it’s done.

Let it rest for 10 minutes in the pan then turn it out onto the plate or stand you’ll be using. The plate or stand must, I repeat must, have lip.

GLAZE:

2 Tablespoons Rose Water
6 Tablespoons Fresh Lemon Juice
1 ½ Cups Powdered Sugar

Sift the powdered sugar into a medium size bowl.
Add the juice & rose water.
Whisk until there are no lumps & the glaze has come together.

Poke holes in the warm cake with a cake tester/tooth pick/uncooked piece of spaghetti (agin, what?!).

Spoon or pour all of the glaze over the cake.

It will look like it’s entirely too much but the cake will absorb it, I swear.

Leave it for 5 minutes.

Go back to spoon the glaze that’s left on the plate & in the center over the cake again.

Leave it for 5 minutes.

You thought there would be glaze to spoon over it again didn’t you? Wrong! It’s all basically absorbed.

Done, chief!

Let the cake cool completely.

Sift some more powdered sugar over the cake.

Serve

Eat.

The Play's The Thing

2009-06-26T14:05:00.001-04:00

As you all know (you do keep up with my life religously, don't you?!)
I've been doing some community theatre lately. I'm really quite
pleased to have gotten back into it. I am...big but coming in 5 4 3 2

But! Being on stage, even a community theatre stage, makes it
extraordinarily hard for me to care about my job. I know. I know!
Everybody has to get the bills paid & I'm lucky to have a job where I
get to help people. Hell! I'm lucky to have a job! I get that. I do.
And, as long as I had absolutely nothing to do with the theatre in any
way, shape or form, I was content with that. Now? I'm a malcontent. I
don't want to be but, sadly, I am.

There's only one thing I ever wanted to do (OK, fine, when I was 3 I
wanted to be a paleontologist. So, sue me!). But, due to a long
boring, daft story, I, for lack of a better term, crapped out & let it
go. But here's the thing - I'm over all that boring daft idiot crap.
The past, as somebody once said, is prologue. I'm concentrating on the
next act. The kid is trying to get back on track...I don't know how
yet but I'm inching my way forward, feeling my way along in the
dark...and other cliched phrases as well!

So, let's make a deal! If you catch me back sliding give me a kick in
the ass (it's quite close to the ground so this shouldn't be
strenuous) and, in return, I'll try to give a crap about my day job.
Because, if this isn't love it'll have to do until the real thing
comes along. Sound fair? Keen.

Yours In Christ,
Dark Furt

Three (3) Random Things

2009-05-31T15:52:00.001-04:00

I’m trying to blog more frequently. I hope you appreciate this sacrifice on my part. You probably don’t though…you selfish bastards….

1 (one). Do Not Revisit The Past

On Friday night/Saturday morning I went to see an old (to me) movie. It was Evil Dead II: Dead By Dawn. Wow. I remember seeing it when I was a kid. My friend Julie and I would watch it all the time and laugh like drains. Needless to say it was not as we remembered it. Now, possibly, it had something to do with being drunk as a lord (that night not as children). But, generally, I think it just isn’t the same when you’re allowed to be watching a horror film, you’re not jacked up on all the sugar you can find and, oh, yeah! You aren’t ten anymore. Ah, well. It was still good to hang out with Julie and, bless her, she fell asleep so that I could make the let’s get the hell out of here call.

2 (two). Most Random Conversation Ever.

Yesterday I went to Burlington Coat Factory (Fancy!) to get some presents for my friend Elisa’s baby shower. While I stood in the longest line ever (always an issue at that place) I heard a voice behind me say “Excuse me.” I turned around and there was a rather lovely British gentleman standing there. He held up a mask and asked me “Would you say this is African or Asian?” I looked at the mask. “Asian.” I turned away. He then tapped me on the shoulder. “Well, are you sure? It was with all the African masks but it looks a bit Asian to me.” I looked at the mask. . . Again. “I believe it’s Asian. I may be wrong.” As I was turning I saw the made in sticker on the mask. “Especially since it was made in China.” I turned away. “Actually,” he said, “I believe that says Ghana.” I turned and looked at the made in sticker. Sure enough it was made in Ghana. “Oh, sorry. No glasses!” I turned away…yet again. “No worries,” he said, “where is Ghana?” I turned back to the Englishman, “Africa, I believe.” “So, the mask is African.” “Apparently.” I turned around. “So, excuse me,” he said. “Yes?” “What about these?” He held up the other two masks. “Would you say these were African as well?” I looked at the masks. They looked exactly the same as the first one. “I’d say they all come from the same place. Why? Is there a theme?” “Yes, there is a theme.” “Well, I don’t think anyone will notice if it’s wrong unless you’ve invited a lot of art historians and then, of course, there may be a problem.” I laughed. He laughed. “I don’t think I know any art historians.” “Then you’ll be fine.” “Do you think so?” Then it was my turn to check out. I completed my transaction and turned back to the Brit. “Yes, I do.” Then I walked away.

3 (three). Speaking Of Bad Movies….

I’m currently watching “Journey To The Center Of The Earth.” It’s crap. Absolute twaddle. But, the worst part? Brendan Fraser is going bald…quickly. And they’ve put him in the worst rug ever. It’s horrible. I can’t look away! It’s hypnotized me. I’m startled and confused by this piece of foolery. Brendan Fraser is, I think we can all agree, an attractive man. He will always be an attractive man. That is if he stops acting the fool and rips that rug off. Why can’t he/his agents/directors just accept the facts? The man is going bald. Big whoop. Did that hurt Bruce Willis? No. No, it didn’t. What hurt Bruce Willis? The bad hair plugs. There is a lesson there. Learn it.

Tipping, It Ain't Optional

2009-05-27T22:12:00.001-04:00

Short But To The Point

Folks, tipping is not optional (unless, of course, you receive crap service). And tipping doesn’t mean two percent. Or three. Or even five. For restaurant service you tip 15 - 20%. I don’t care what Rachel Ray does. She’s friggin’ wrong. . . as usual. For personal services (hair, massage, mani/pedi) you better tip 20 - 30%. Why? Because those people have to physically touch you. Also, you should tip them well because, who knows? Maybe next time they might just leave that peroxide solution on a few minutes too long. Perhaps your spine just won’t align properly. Possibly they may forget to clean that nail file. And, honestly, what‘s less expensive? Tipping properly the first time or buying wigs, chiropractic appointments and fungal cream? Do the math. Shocking, I know but, hey! This is America. You get what you pay for.

Also, gents, never cheap out on the tip in front of a woman. It’s a bad idea. It’s like trash talking your mom. Big red flag! Just a tip from me to you.

So, Long Time No Blog...'Sup?

2009-05-26T21:36:00.003-04:00

I apologize in advance. I promise to blog more tomorrow so that you can have a fun & frothy blog. However, in the mean time, I had some photos taken and I am not photogenic. This is not Earth shattering. This doesn’t effect my life in any major way. However, it does mean that every time I see a picture of myself I want to vomit up my lungs. Seriously. Because then I wouldn’t need to look at the picture anymore as I’d be in surgery (at minimum). Also, hopefully, the picture would be ruined by the lung goo. Sorry. That’s gross. But I think you got my point.

I think maybe I don’t know what my face looks like. Although, it should be said that in a few rare photos I do look like me. At least I look like I think I look…if that makes sense? Probably not. But, mostly, I look at a picture and think, wow. Is that my nose? Are my eyes that small? Are my lips that big? Good Lord! That’s not a forehead that’s an EIGHTHEAD!

So, why is that? Why do I recognize myself in some photos (even bad photos) but in most I could walk right past them & not know it was me unless I was told. I’d know they were related, obviously, but me? Nah. That ain’t me! That’s my aunt. That’s my cousin. That’s my ma. That ain’t me. Hu. Maybe it’s because we all look alike? And, from different angles, I look like different people?

Hu. It takes a village to raise a Fury. Perhaps it also takes a village to make a face. In that light it’s not so bad. In that light I can accept it. I still don’t like it but I accept it.

It's My Birthday (Almost). It's My Birthday (Almost). We're Gonna' Party Like It's (Almost) My Birthday.

2009-04-30T20:57:00.005-04:00

Dear Friends,

Tomorrow, the aniversary of my birth, I ask you all to party like it's your birthday. If you could also drink Bacardi like it's your birthday, I'd appreciate it. Ya' know? I don't give a fuck it's not your birthday. And neither should you!

So, on what may prove to be your un-birthday, jump around. Jump around. Jump up. Jump up & get down.

Yours In Christ,

Dark Fury

I'm Not Sayin'...I'm Just Sayin'....

2009-03-24T19:19:00.002-04:00

Um...awkward! But, hey, ya' don't ask ya' don't get!

If anybody is wondering what to get a certain special Fury on their shopping list (May1 is right around the corner, people...don't judge me.) might I suggest tickets to the DC Improv to see Brian Posehn?

Again, I'm not sayin'...I'm just sayin'....

Bad Jew, No Mitzvos For You!

2009-03-16T21:06:00.002-04:00

I forgot Purim. This is not shocking. I am not, let us face facts, what anyone would call observant. Hell, I don’t even believe in organized religion. I mean, obviously, I believe it exists. I just don’t think it has anything to do with me. I don’t happen to think that G-d, omniscient and omnipresent deity that He is, needs you to be in a specific place at a set time to know you believe in Him. Call me wacky, if you will! I’m not a big proponent of prayer. Again, He’s omniscient (look it up) so He should know, well, everything. Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not putting the knock on it. If you feel better after attending services or praying then go for it. I do, however, knock those who complain that G-d didn’t answer their prayers. Maybe He has bigger fish to fry (war, famine, plague…ya’ know, the big three). Maybe the answer was simply “No.” Who’s to say? I do know that I, personally, have been waiting on the right lotto numbers for years. So, get in line.

All that being said, Purim has always sounded like a fun holiday. I’ve never celebrated it. . . Except for hamantaschen. You have to love a religion that’s based on a system of fast and feast. We should be endorsed by Bulimia. But, that’s as may be. I never dressed up as Queen Esther. I never read the Megillah. Well, not for Purim. I have read it but just for fun. I know. I’m weird. I read Mishnah for fun. Don’t judge me, or I will turn this blog around & start quoting The Lubevitcher Rebbe! But, I digress. . . .

I like the story of how one woman, with the help of a few good meals, saved her people. It’s good stuff. She was a brave broad that Hadassah. Xerxes was not a man to annoy…just ask the Spartans. I, contrary to my mothers misguided opinion, would have lain low. That’s just me. In honor of my (probable) cowardice I close with the following atrocious poem (bit of a doddle, really).

When someone calls you a kike
then that is the time to strike.
When legions call you a Yid
go run and get yourself hid.
For it might be hurtful but it’s still true
that you’re just as dead when you’re martyred. Nu?

A (belated) Freilichen Purim, everybody.

Rollin', Rollin', Rollin', Keep Them Wagons Rollin'!

2009-02-04T17:52:00.004-05:00

I am officially moved into the apartment. And I will say this about the move - I will never, as G-d is my witness, move without the help of movers again. It's so bloody choice you wouldn't believe it (unless you too have used movers but then, obviously, I'm not speaking to you).

However . . . and I'm not here to judge . . . I'm just mentioning it . . . really it's fine . . . have you ever semlled something so foul that you're afraid it will stick to you? No? Just me? Fine. I'm the weirdo. What else is new?

In addition to all my stuff the movers left a BO stench that wouldn't die. Liv said it smelled like "old sweaty ass crack and feet." I believe that, though to my knowledge neither of us have ever sampled that particular perfume before, this is quite an accuaret description. I would just add that there was a wee drop of ten day old dead skunk in there but, then again, I have superior olefactory senses. But whatever the source, in the ass or the shoe, the reek of those gentlemen almost killed this Jew (sorry, I went a little Seusse). It was so bad that I had to immediately tell Liv, "hey, that is so not me!"

After they left I opened the windows. That didn't help. So, I Febreezed the entire apartment . . . including my own face. This seemed like a mistake at the time but I quickly realized that it was, in fact, the best idea I'd ever had. The smell, if such a force can be called a mear smell, is gone now and everything is fine. But it was a close call.

Three (3) Random Things

2008-12-17T19:37:00.003-05:00

1. Today I went to work. I sat in my office. I attempted to work. I was interrupted, every ten minutes, by random coworkers popping in and out of my door.

"You're going to the breakfast, right?"
"Do you know if it's time for the breakfast?"
"What will I do if I miss the breakfast? Oh, Christ! I'll die! I'll. . .die."*
"Hey, they're starting the breakfast."

I thought about the fact that, even though I had nothing at all to do with said breakfast shin-dig, I am, apparently, thought to be Julie, The Cruise Director. On Friday we're having a luncheon. I think I'll make myself a name tag, buy a white blazer and direct people to the lido deck whilst flipping my super cute Dorothy Hamill hair cut. It's gonna' be boss and...possibly...gnarly.

2. Speaking of cruise directors. . . .

I have been staying at Elisa's in-laws since everybody and their brother Mike left for the cruise on the twelfth. I'm watching the dogs. They're adorable. I heart them. However, one of them has killer gas. No. I mean it. Killer. My life is in danger. Go ahead and laugh but you'll be laughing out of the other side of your face when you read in the paper (oh, come on, who am I kidding? Nobody reads papers anymore!) that I was found in deep rigor with a look of extreme terror and not a litt;e awe engraved on my face. Awe? Yes. Awe. I'm amazed that anything or one can smell that bad and not be dead. It must be a skill of some kind.
Oh, also? They wake up and bark every two hours starting at 1 AM. It's awesome! But, they are ador - - - - -

Holy. Mother. The stench just hit me. I can't give you a third item. I've got to run. Literally.

*OK. I made that one up. But not by much!

Erin Is An Enabler

2008-12-01T19:21:00.003-05:00

Who feeds my list fetish. She's evil & wrong. That being said.....

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Wrapping paper
2. Real tree or Artificial? In a perfect world? Real. In my house? Artificial…damn it!
3. When do you put up the tree? The Saturday after Thanksgiving. It’s called “Turkey Tree Day”. It’s tradition.
4. When do you take the tree down? January 2nd
5. Do you like eggnog? No. It’s vile, evil & so very very wrong.
6. Favorite gift received as a child? The Complete Annotated Shakespeare.
7. Hardest person to buy for? Nobody. I’m a pretty good gift giver, I think.
8. Easiest person to buy for? Elisa. She’s a hippy. Step 1: World Market Step 2: Buy Something - Done!
9. Do you have a nativity scene? Yes, my great grandmother gave me one. It’s quite lovely….I am the best Jew ever!
10. Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail
11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? My great aunt (from Brooklyn so not really her fault…much) gave me a gold lame, beaded, fringed (!) purse when I was 16. I almost threw up.
12. Favorite Christmas movie? The Bishop’s Wife
13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? Usually the week of. This year? I’m on it! I’m half done…it may be the end times. Seriously. Be afraid.
14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? No. Tacky.
15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Beef Stew (What? We’re Irish. Don’t judge.) For Hanukkah? Latkes, obviously.
16. Lights on the tree? Yes, but I’m OCD so they’re very specific & we really can’t get into that without me having an “episode”.
17. Favorite Christmas carol? Anything by Bing Crosby
18. Travel at Christmas or stay at home? Go to my Aunt’s.
19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer? Hanchel, Herschel, Schlomo…um, Grumpy, Doc, Sleepy, Ted & Rudolph!
20. Angel on the tree top or a star? Star.
21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Christmas morning. What am I a heathen?
22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year? Explaining, repeatedly, to my coworkers that I do, in fact, celebrate Christmas & Hanukkah…welcome to America! It’s a melting pot.
23. What theme or color are you using? We don’t do that. We mix it up. Single color trees are gross and wrong.
24. Favorite for Christmas dinner? Corn muffins. What? What else do you eat with beef stew?
25. What do you want for Christmas this year? World peace…but, if I can’t have that, I’ll take a million dollars. Who am I to be so picky?
26. Who is most likely to respond to this? Stealing Erin’s Answer: Your Mom

Happy Thanksgiving

2008-11-27T21:49:00.005-05:00

Breakfast of Champions Cake

2/3 cup cocoa
2 ¼ cups all purpose flour
2 cups sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoons instant coffee granules
1 1/2 cups unsweetened orange juice
3 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla (optional)
1 1/4 cups canola oil or vegetable oil

Set oven to 350 degrees F.

Set rack to second-lowest postion.

Generously grease and flour a 12-cup bundt pan

In an extra large mixing bowl, sift together flour, cocoa, salt, baking soda, baking powder and sugar.

Disolve coffee granules in orange juice. Pour orange juice mixture into bowl. Add eggs, oil and vanilla. Mix on medium speed until well combined.

Bake for 50 - 60 minutes (check it at 50).

Cool in pan for about 15-20 minutes before removing. Sift powdered sugar over the top.

Eat.

Variations: You could also, of course, slice this cake into three layers, melt some cherry or raspberry preserves, brush the cake with the preserves and spread whipped cream between the layers and cover the whole thing with chocolate ganache...just a thought...it's America...up to you.

My Super (Nauseating) Sweet 16

2008-11-24T18:54:00.002-05:00

Question:

When your 16 year old child asks you for a twenty-five thousand dollar Fendi mink coat what should your answer be?

A. What did you just ask me?
B. Are you out of your tiny mind?
C. Hell no!
D. All of the above.
E. Anything you want. It’s your world, we’re all just living in it!

Apparently, much to my shock, the answer is E. Who knew? Not me. I did not know that.

I would have imagined, actually, that the correct thing to do would be to laugh in the childs face for about an hour . . . Possibly while slapping them, lightly, about the head and neck with a rolled up newspaper. That would, surely, be my response. But, what do I know? If you go by the dim bulb, lack wit, parents of the Super Sweet 16 crowd I’m wrong as wrong can be. Hu.

Now, I’m sure, twenty-five thousand dollars is chump change to these people. Good for them. Way to hustle! But, instead of spending it on a, frankly, ugly coat that little baby precious dumplin’ angel will wear for about a minute before she’s “over it” how about you take that chump change and, oh, I don’t know…do something crazy? Like making her do volunteer work and then donating the money to the charity of her choice! How about doing something wacky like that? Why not show her that sometimes we don’t always get every little thing our hearts desire and that some, hell, lots of people don’t get the essentials let alone the luxury items? Wouldn’t that be a hoot?!

No? Better to have her grow up believing that she’s entitled to any little thing she wants? Better she should never understand the value of a dollar or how, honestly, to get a dollar without pitching a fit and running to daddy? Better she should grow up to be a douche bag of staggering proportions? Well, if you say so I’ll . . . No. Come to think of it, I won’t believe you.

Two (2) Mini Blogs For The Price of One (1)

2008-11-07T20:44:00.003-05:00

1.
It Costs Extra To Have The Word Schmuck Carved Into A Tombstone But For You? I'll Save Up.

Today at work a man told me, as part of his defense, that his daughter “isn’t that retarded.” Oh, OK. To think that someone honest to G-d thought that it was OK to not take care of their mentally challenged child because, hey! They’re not that retarded! So, what’s the criteria? If she eats dirt and sits in the yard all day tethered to a post wearing a helmet will you support her then? I’m not trying to be cruel, I just really want to know what the cut off is.

2.
Alvy Singer: Hey listen, gimme a kiss.
Annie Hall: Really?
Alvy Singer: Yeah, why not, because we're just gonna go home later, right, and then there's gonna be all that tension, we've never kissed before and I'll never know when to make the right move or anything. So we'll kiss now and get it over with, and then we'll go eat. We'll digest our food better.

Annie Hall is on. I believe that this movie should be used as a compatibility litmus test (I’m very scientifically minded when I’m motivated). If you are interested in someone you should make them watch Annie Hall. If they love it and you love it? Grand. Go ahead and accept that dinner invitation. If they hate it and you hate it? Same deal. If you don’t feel the same way just walk away right there. Seriously. Further, you should watch it together and if you laugh with glee/scowl morosely and back chat the screen at the same time? Get married, shack up, have babies, whatever.

Annie Hall is the only one it will work with. Bananas , Take the Money and Run, Zelig? Those are funny to everybody …or should be…actually, no. I tell a lie. You can use any Woody Allen comedy. Go ahead. Go nuts!

But, of course, if they’re from someplace like Utah you’ll need a New York to English dictionary. But, hell, what do I know? Maybe you’re from Utah. No offense.

The Cure For What Ails You, Part II

2008-11-02T19:11:00.001-05:00

Mushroom Kugel

1 Package of Wide Egg Noodles
1 8 oz. Package of Mushrooms - Chopped
½ Cup Yellow Onion - Chopped
2 Cloves Garlic - Minced
2 Sticks of Butter
8 oz. Sour Cream
8 oz. Cream Cheese
6 Eggs
Salt & Pepper To Taste

Preheat oven to 375

Prepare noodles as directed on package.
In large sauté pan melt 2 Tablespoons of the butter.
Add the onion, garlic and mushrooms.
Cook until soft.
Add the rest of the butter to the sauté pan and melt.
In a large bowl (seriously, make it a BIG bowl) mix the mushroom/butter mixture, cream cheese and sour cream.
Add the eggs one at a time (the batter will be thick like a cake batter).
Mix the noodles into the batter.
Pour mixture into a large casserole dish.
Bake, uncovered, for approximately 50 minutes.

You can do a sweet kugel by changing the mushrooms to the fruit of your choice (I like apple), adding ½ a cup of sugar, ½ a cup of brown sugar and 2 teaspoons of cinnamon.

Obviously, you would leave out the onion, garlic, salt and pepper…unless you have weird taste buds. Hey, it’s America. Do what you like!

The Cure For What Ails You

2008-10-28T15:03:00.009-04:00

Mushroom & Matzoh Ball Soup
1/2 Cup Yellow Onion, Diced
1/2 Cup Carrot, Sliced
1 Cup Frozen Peas
1 8 oz. Package of Sliced Wild Mushrooms
1 8 oz. Package of Sliced Baby Portobello’s
2 Quarts of Stock (Chicken or Vegetable)
3 Garlic Cloves, Minced
1 Package of Matzoh Ball Mix
3 Tablespoons Olive Oil
Salt & Pepper To Taste

In a large skillet sauté the onions, carrots, mushrooms & garlic in the olive oil until soft (about 20 minutes).

While vegetables are cooking prepare the matzoh ball mix as directed on the package.

Matzoh mix will have to be refrigerated for 15 minutes.

In a large stock pot bring stock to a boil.

Wet hands.

Roll small (important that they are small as they get bigger when they cook) balls of matzoh mix and drop into boiling stock.

Cover stock pot tightly & simmer for 20 minutes.

When matzoh balls are done transfer vegetable mix to stock pot and add frozen peas.

Simmer for 5 minutes. Ladle into soup bowl. Eat.
I love soup. It's so easy!

EDITED TO ADD: Baked Apples or Apple Noodle Kugel would be the perfect dessert after this. Why didn't I get apples, when I went to the store? WHY?! Damn cold medicine.

Well, Hey! How You? How's Yer' Mamma & Them?!

2008-10-22T18:39:00.002-04:00

So, long time no blog, eh? Well, them’s the breaks. What’s been going on? Oy. So much! And, as we all know, I love a list….

A. The Saturday before last I went to my grandmother’s family reunion. I know, technically, that since it’s her family it’s also my family but come on! I can’t take them. What am I Job?

My grandmother’s family is white. No. Seriously. They make me look like a fine Nubian princess. They find Catsup spicy. I’m not kidding. They believe catsup to be some spicy, hot, fire in the hole hellishness. They’re nutty. But, hey! It takes all kinds to make a world so live and let live I say. . . Up to a point.

Conversation Overheard At Family Reunion:
Batshit Crazy 7th Cousin Once Removed #1: Who brought this?
Batshit Crazy 7th Cousin Once Removed #2: What?
BC7C1R #1: (pointing at container that is clearly marked “Garcia”) Who brought this?
BC7C1R #2: Oh. Teeny [my grandmother’s nickname…remember, they’re uber white] did.
BC7C1R #1: Oh! That’s right! I always forget that Teeny married a (whispering) Mexican…I hope it isn’t spicy….

Um, seriously? It was macaroni salad. Also? We’re not Mexican. Furthermore? If we were you wouldn’t need to whisper it. If we were Nazis? Sure, you go ahead and whisper that craziness. Mexican? Not necessary. It isn’t contagious. And if it was I bet you’d enjoy life a lot more. Welcome to flavor country! I know. I know, you thought mayo was a spice. You were wrong. But, once you catch the dreaded Mexican you’ll know better.

Why must people assume that all people with Spanish last names are Mexican (or, in Nuevo York, Puerto Rican)? There are a lot of Spanish speaking nations. Grab a map and concentrate on the Central & South American countries. Oh! And, also? Friggin’ Spain! Hence the word “Spanish.”

I really wanted to point all of this out but, since I was raised right, I decided that this was my cue to get the hell out of Dodge. I even said goodbye on my way out in a very polite manner. I said, because I may have been raised right but Mr. Garcia didn’t raise no fools, “Adios, ladies!” And, yes, I enjoyed the mixture of confusion and panic on their faces when I said it.

B. The Sunday before last I attended the wedding of my friends Stuart and Anne. Now, as we know, usually I could give a crap about weddings. I believe I’ve been clear. I’m generally the one in the back of the room making book on how long the marriage will last. What? I give fair odds and pay out when I lose. Don’t judge me!

That being said, I got a wee choked up at this wedding. Why? Well, partly because I’ve known Stu since G-d was a boy . To me he’ll always be the gangly, sadly long haired, hyperactive puppy of a lad I met way back when. But he’s grown up. He’s grownsed up and he’s grownsed up and he’s grownsed up! And, not only has he grown up, he’s grown up well. He’s a good man. Well done, luv, if you read this. And then there’s Anne. We like Anne. Hell, we love Anne! Could there be anybody better for the Stude? Nope. Not on this planet. So, yeah, that explains the robot getting choked up. That or I’ve blown a cog. Hmmm…must get that checked out. I knew I should have had my heart taken out when I had my soul removed to make room for more sarcasm. Oh, well, hind sight is 20/20!

And, besides the fact that I actually gave a crap about the people getting married, it was a super fun wedding! And, though I say it myself, we were the fun table. One problem? There were three flasks. That, in itself, is far from problematic. But two of them were wasted on Gin and Bourbon. Honestly! Who does that?

C. A few of my friends and I will be hitting up the Richmond Highland Games this weekend. Before you say it, yes, I know! It’s supposed to rain. I say bring it on! I’m a fool for authenticity. I bought a disposable camera so I’m sure I’ll have plenty to post and plenty of photographic evidence. I may have to bring a tranquilizer gun. Olivia gets…funny…around kilted men. There may be an incident.

D.Besides all this? I’ve been at work. I got my first performance review. Yeah, it’s official, I rock.

And . . . That’s . . . About . . . It . . . …..

Things We Lost In The Fire?

2008-10-21T18:13:00.002-04:00

The urge to blog. But I'm working on it. Check back later. Hang in there. Be strong. G-d bless you and G-d bless America....Oh, wait. I'm not running for president. Woops!

No. There wasn't an actual fire.

It's Yom Kippur . . .

2008-10-09T00:06:00.001-04:00

If you’re thinking of having a pork chop, reconsider.

What time is it, boys and girls? It’s atonement time! Once again it’s time to forgive and forget. I’ll start, shall I?

If, in the past year, I have pissed you off I offer a deep and heartfelt apology.* If, in the past year, you’ve pissed me off then I forgive you.**

There! Don’t we all feel better? Fantastic!

Tzom kal, everybody.

*Unless you had it coming and/or I found it amusing . . . In which case, host du bie mir an avleh!

*Unless you really pissed me off . . . in which case, gai tren zich!

Bedtime For Gonzo

2008-10-02T22:57:00.003-04:00

You must see this movie. It's a documentary about Hunter S. Thompson. WATCH IT! That's all.

Cookies & Juice

2008-09-26T22:52:00.003-04:00

How the debate would go if I were the moderator....

Moderator (me): Mr. McCain, is it not true that you are, in fact, a fibber and you are, in fact, fibbing right now? Do you need a moment to try and turn that into a personal attack on Mr. Obama? OK. I'll give you a minute.

When I get annoyed my blood sugar drops.

Tonight I watched the debate.

I listened to John McCain.

I'm currently having cookies and juice.

I think you see my point.

PS? Biden is going to hand Palin her ass in their debate...field dress that, Governor!

I Have Many Questions.

2008-09-26T20:03:00.000-04:00

I just watched the news. So, sadly, I may not be so coherent or upbeat. My bank is looking for buyers. Great. That’s swell. It’s not as if I have a billion dollars so I can’t lose a lot but, ya’ know, it’s not actually about me (for once). What about all the people who have their retirement wrapped up in that bank? What about all those people? What happens to them if buyers aren’t found? It’s insured, you say? Oh, great! By who? Oh, right. The rocket scientists. Fantastic. I have a lot of faith in them. Seriously. I do. I have faith that they couldn’t find their ass with both hands and a flash light.

The state of the country is deeply depressing. As some of you may know, I am very patriotic. I love my country. I do. I believe, as I’ve said before, in the dream of America. I believe that we can be great. I believe that we have a duty, as Americans, to try and provide the American dream to any and all who want to grab that dream with both hands. How can we do that if we’re broke? How can we do that if we can’t get gas to get to work or to school or to, G-d forbid, the doctor? How can we do that when most of the world hates us? How can we do that when we’re told that the people who are in the highest tax bracket are the middle class? What does that make the rest of us? Why is making sure that two people who love each other can’t get legally married more important than the economy or an illegal war? What kind of people laugh at community organizers? In what world is the ability to field dress a moose of more importance than actual job experience? How can we be great if we’re a joke? How can our children hold their heads up if we raise them in fear and ignorance? How? Somebody, please, tell me. How?

BUT!

All hope is not lost. An election is coming. Go vote. If you love your country, you will vote. If you care about the troops, you will vote. If you want to hand over a better world to your children, then you will vote. If you’d like to retire and not have to live on dog food, you will vote. Hell, if you care about anything at all, you will vote.

Go register. Go vote. Go get involved.

Not someday.

Now.

Hmmm...Well, why not?

2008-09-13T15:49:00.003-04:00

I’m watching “Failure to Launch,” a truly horrifying movie. I don’t know why. Well, that’s not true. I know why. Matthew McKindahigh is hot, except, of course, when you look at his arms which are entirely too short for his body but then, who am I to talk? So, let’s just say he’s a good looking man and leave it at that. That is all besides the point. Besides? Beside the point? Besides the point? Whatever! It isn’t the point. The point is that the only good characters in this movie are the sidekicks. It occurred to me that that is often the case in “romantic comedies.” Look at “Four Weddings and a Funeral.” His friends are much, much more interesting than the leads. And that isn’t just because one of them is played by Andi McDowell. Look at “Pretty Woman.” I’d much rather see a movie about her friend Kit.

Why are the sidekicks so much more interesting? And why doesn’t somebody write a movie where the sidekicks are the main characters? I mean, it would be interesting. Let the leads be the sidekicks for once. You’d still have the Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant types and they’d still be the catalysts for the action of the sidekicks but the movie would follow the sidekicks. I don’t think I’m explaining it well but I still think it’s a good idea. So sue me.

"Ducking for apples -- change one letter and it's the story of my life." - Dorothy Parker

2008-09-11T22:29:00.002-04:00

My two favorite poems by my favorite poet (because a woman doctor is not a doctoress, that's why).

Inventory
by
Dorothy Parker

Four be the things I am wiser to know:
Idleness, sorrow, a friend and a foe.

Four be the things I'd been better without:
Love, curiosity, freckles, and doubt.

Three be the things I shall never attain:
Envy, content, and sufficient champagne.

Three be the things I shall have till I die:
Laughter and hope and a sock in the eye.

Love Song
by
Dorothy Parker

My own dear love, he is strong and bold
And he cares not what comes after.
His words ring sweet as a chime of gold,
And his eyes are lit with laughter.
He is jubilant as a flag unfurled-
Oh, a girl she'd not forget him.
My own dear love, he is all my world-
And I wish I'd never met him.

My love, he's mad, and my love, he's fleet,
And a wild young wood-thing bore him!
The ways are fair to his roaming feet,
And the skies are sunlit for him.
As sharply sweet to my heart he seems
As the fragrance of acacia.
My own dear love, he is all my dreams-
And I wish he were in Asia.

My love runs by like a day in June,
And he makes no friend of sorrows.
He'll tread his galloping rigadoon
In the pathways of the morrows.
He'll live his days where the sunbeams start,
Nor could storm or wind uproot him.
My own dear love, he is all my heart-
And I wish somebody'd shoot him.

Oh, what the hell? One more!

Unfortunate Coincidence
by
Dorothy Parker

By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying -
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying.

Where there is a sea there are pirates.

2008-09-11T18:08:00.004-04:00

When Walter Somlug first set out to sea there was no way he could have known how profound an impact it would have on him. When his doctor suggested a little sea air would do his poor lungs a world of good Walter wasn't sure he could stand to be away from his family's paper bag processing factory in Little ShimSham on Thames. Of course, his Uncle Fred and Cousin Alf both said Walter's health had to come first and that they'd be well able to get a temporary accountant to come in and see to the books for a few weeks.

But Walter just felt that Great Grandfather Somlug's fine busines shouldn't be left in the uncaring hands of strangers. And he hadn't just been thinking of that temporary accountant. After all, what did the family really know about Uncle Fred, other than the fact that he'd married Aunt Mudgey...and wasn't that odd in itself?

Now, after just ten days at sea, Walter wasn't sure he could bring himself to go back to that nine to five grind. But, he consoled himself, he'd always have the memories and the tattoo to remember it by. . .and, naturally, all that booty would shore up the employees retirement fund nicely. He wondered what the tax codes would have to say.

"Pray for intestinal fortitude, work hard, and keep the faith. Oh, and pray for good luck, you're gonna need it." Jerry Reed

2008-09-07T21:52:00.001-04:00

I’ve always loved “trashy” boys. Always. I can prove it.

When I was five or six, I can’t remember which, my mother came into the living room as I was watching TV. I was, she says, enraptured. I turned to her with the love light in my eye.
“Isn’t he beautiful?” I asked.
My mother looked at the television. I was watching “Smokey and the Bandit.”
“Who,” she asked, “Burt Reynolds?”
“No! Him!” I said, pointing at Jerry Reed without turning around.
“Sure,” my mother laughed. “He’s dreamy.”

Now, for those of you who haven’t seen this edifying and transcendent film, Jerry Reed was playing a good old boy trucker. Not much of a stretch I imagine. Who cares? I was, for once, not in it for the acting. I loved Jerry Reed’s character and, therefore, since I was five (or six) I loved Jerry Reed. And, lo, these many years later, I still do.

Of course, now I know the difference between an actor and a character. Still, for all that, the man apparently made a deep impression on me in my youth. To this day I love a man who was brought up rough, if you will, around the edges. A man who knows what a dollar is worth and how hard you have to work to get one.

Don’t talk to me about men who know which fork to use at every course! That is knowledge I can give them if need be. But you can’t teach somebody things that should have been instilled since birth. Respect for hard work, love of family and how to react when times get tough…’cause they pretty much always do, eventually. These are traits I admire.

I do not, let us be clear, want anything to do with an illiterate (or may as well be), slack jawed, hill billy, beats “his” woman because he can redneck. No. Thank you. I’ve had one of those. I don’t care to repeat the experience. Call me crazy! However, a blue collar man is a thing of beauty. A blue collar man who reads and doesn’t listen, exclusively, to country music? Indefinable joy. If I could find all that and he can make me laugh until I pass out? Book the hall, people, I just changed my mind about marriage! But, sadly, they are few and far between. And, as of September 1, 2008? They’re getting rarer.

Goodbye, Mr. Reed. You may not have been any of the things I thought or admired. You may have been all those things. But, whatever you may or may not have been, to this little girl, you were beautiful.

The Carrot & The Stick

2008-08-29T21:20:00.000-04:00

Annie Pinchis sat staring at the ink blot. Her therapist, Dr. Lipke, seemed to think this was an important step in her “healing.” Healing from what he had, thus far, kept to himself. Annie thought Dr. Lipke was a douche bag but, thus far, she had kept that to herself.

If Annie had known that she would be subjected to an unholy mélange of Jungian philosophy. Freudian analysis and self help mumbo jumbo she’d have given therapy a pass. But, unfortunately, Dr. Lipke was the only therapist in her insurance network within fifty miles. He also insisted on her attending at least one session a month in order to get her prescription. Annie knew that medication was all she needed. So, she thought, my brain chemistry isn’t right. Big whoop. Give me a pill and leave me alone! Dr. Lipke continued to hold up the ink blot.

Annie began to panic. What if she said the wrong thing? How often would he require her to come in then? Oh, Christ, she fumed, they always find something wrong with your answer. They say there is no right answer. So, if there’s no answer why ask the question? Hu? Why? Just to mess with you.

Annie looked at the ink blot. It looked remarkably like someone had spilled ink on a white piece of paper. Wisely, she decided that that probably wasn’t the right not right answer. She leaned forward as if concentrating on it more closely.

“It looks,” think, she screamed in her head! “It looks,” safe. Safe. What’s the safe answer? “Like Bugs Bunny holding a carrot!” There! What could anybody possibly say about that? Annie felt a smug smile creep across her face.

“Is it,” Dr. Lipke leaned forward excitedly, “a large carrot?”

Annie sank back in her chair, smirk sliding away to nothingness, and resigned herself to twice weekly sessions.

I Didn't Fall Off The Wagon Today . . .

2008-08-25T19:03:00.001-04:00

so much as I jumped off and flipped it the bird as it drove away. And, yes, if you must know, I feel pretty foul about it and the fact that I can't seem to quit smoking on my own. So, feel free to keep any shitty comments to yourself.

What can I say? I'm an addicted addict. I can't stop. Maybe next I'll try Wellbutrin and hypnotherapy. That last one would be good just for the fuckin' comic value.

In conclusion, I am a loser. I accept this.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BIRTHDAY GIRL!

2008-08-20T18:41:00.001-04:00

Happy 4th Birthday, Sadie!

How To Avoid Thinking Of Smoking

2008-08-17T19:43:00.000-04:00

Step 1:
Go to the farmer’s market. Buy a roast, a pound of green beans, a pound and a half of peas (in shell), six ears of corn, a pound of potatoes and a pound of peaches.

Step 2:
Go home. Attempt to refrain from hitting other cars/pedestrians “accidentally”.

Step 3:
Season roast beef and place in preheated oven.

Step 4:
Snap the green beans.

Step 5:
Shell the peas.

Step 6:
Shuck the corn.

Step 7:
Peel the potatoes.

Step 8:
Cut up the peaches. Sprinkle them with sugar. Place in refrigerator.

Step 9:
Boil the potatoes.

Step 10:
Mash the potatoes. Cover bowl of mashed potatoes and place over a pot of simmering water to keep warm.

Step 11:
Boil corn, beans and peas (in separate pots).

Step 12:
Take meat out of oven. Leave to rest for 20 minutes.

Step 13:
Make gravy.

Step 14.
Move all vegetables to serving dishes.

Step 15:
Cut roast beef.

Step 16:
Serve dinner.

Step 17:
Whip a cup of heavy cream.

Step 18:
Place peaches in dessert bowls. Top with whipped cream

Step 19:
Serve dessert

Step 20:
Clean up.

Step 21:
Make chocolate chip cookies.

Step 22:
Clean up.

Step 23:
Clean bathroom.

Step 24:
Type up list.

That’s it. Now keep in mind that during all of this you will still think, constantly ,about having a cigarette and also about killing anyone who gets in your way . . . Or who is breathing within a six mile radius. But all of these separate steps will keep you from grabbing a cigarette, or a knife, for at least a few hours.

One day at a time. Oh, and let someone else do the carving. Seriously. You can’t be trusted.

Take Two (million and six)!

2008-08-16T16:36:00.002-04:00

Today I cleaned out my car. It was disgusting. My car is clean and I am filthy. I found jackets and shoes I forgot I owned. Oy. So, yeah, maybe once a year isn't often enough. Who knew?

Also, as of today, I've quit smoking...again. I know. I know, I've tried before. I KNOW! But I'm feeling good about it this time. Last time I quit I just decided one day to do it and didn't prepare at all. This time I think I'm prepared.

I cleaned out my car so it no longer smells.
I threw away all my cigarettes and cigarette related paraphenalia (except my engraved zippo - it says "Dark Fury" I had to keep it. Besides, I've never filled it so how can it hurt?).
I purchased the Commit nicotine replacement system. They're gross but we'll call the aversion therapy.
I joined a quit smoking support group website.

We'll see.

Roll Up! Roll Up! Get It While It's Hot, It's Lovely!

2008-08-14T17:32:00.001-04:00

Lately, I’ve been too bored to blog. . . too pooped to pop. . . um. . . . too nauseated to navigate? Hu. Yeah. Probably not that last one.

So, back by unpopular demand –

Stream Of Consciousness! And the crowd goes wild! Or just sits there and thinks, “ok.” One or the other. Up to you.

I’m getting a wrinkle. A laugh line to be precise. I suppose that that’s better than a frown line but it’s still a wrinkle. It still smoothes out when I relax my face. Nevertheless, I know it’s there. Waiting. Maybe Botox isn’t so bad. No. No. That’s probably how they sucked in Nicole Kidman and look at her now! Scary. I hate when men get Botox. Hate it. I like a lived in face. Besides, how do I know what you’re saying without facial cues? I don’t. You could be lying through your teeth and, without the appropriate facial expression, I’ll believe you. I’m kind of gullible. I need the cues to know what’s really going on. Maybe that’s why Nicole Kidman hasn’t made a movie in yonks. Because she can’t get the emotion across. Not that she ever really could but that’s a different story. I wish Craig Ferguson would write himself another movie. There, my friends, is a lived in face. Lovely. Or a book. Where’s the next book? Bloody hell, man! Get with the program. I need to quit smoking. I looked into Chantrex (sp?) but that’s not meant for people with a history of “mental illness.” I hate that expression. I want a different one please. How about “batshit”? Or “loopy”? Or “mad as a bag of cats”? That last one is my favorite. It’s so colorful. Imagine if that was the clinical term.

Doctor: Well, Mrs. Jones, we’ve figured out why Mr. Jones sits in his study all day listening to death metal and screaming obscenities at the dog.

Mrs. Jones: Oh, doctor! What a relief. The children were beginning to notice.

Doctor: Yes, yes, Mrs. Jones. We’ll soon have it sorted. The technical term for your husbands’ condition is “Mad As A Bag Of Cats.” It’s quite treatable. Pick up the six prescriptions at the desk on your way out.

Mrs. Jones: (weeping quietly in relief) Oh, thank you, doctor! Thank you!

Ain’t language grand? All languages are pretty. Well, ok, not German but I’m biased. Maybe it’s simply gorgeous but I’m a bitch who can’t let it go. Probably not but it could be. Wrinkles. Wrinkles. Wrinkles. Wrinkles. It honestly never occurred to me that I would live long enough to get wrinkles. When I think of it like that, I’m almost pleased. Almost. Vanity thy name is Dark Fury. Who knew? Luckily, I’m smart and funny. If I were just a pretty face, I’d be screwed.

Three (3) Random Things

2008-08-08T17:42:00.003-04:00

OK, before we get to the scheduled randomnes or randomossity, if you prefer, I feel the need to briefly set something straight. I will never attempt to not be funny. That would be as fake as spray tan and I'm not OK with that.

On to the random!

1. The Jewish year is currently 5767 (I think. I forgot to buy a calender this year.). How does that work? Is it like leap year? When we started using the modern calender how did people know when it was their birthday? Did the just pick a day and go with it? Did they get two? I just wondered.

2. I have one of those Buddha glasses you get from Asian resteraunts sitting on my desk. I use it as a pen holder. It has a hole in it that was meant for a straw. I stick a pencil in it. At least three (3) people have walked by my desk - giggled - and said that it "looks dirty." The hole is in it's chest. Who have these people been dating and/or what's wrong with them that they find a sucking chest wound "naughty"? I mean there's kinky and then there's just creepy.

3. I hope that if anyone ever again offers me "E" (sucking on lollipops like an idiot while my spinal fluid dries up? Sounds keen! Wait. . . hold on . . . no.) that they do so on a Friday night. Just so I can tell them, "I don't roll on Shabbas!"

Yeah, I was booooored today and no, I didn't spell check.

On July 6th . . .

2008-08-08T17:32:00.003-04:00

Elisa was born. To this day the only hippie I love. . . but she's still not allowed to hump me. . . just sayin'.

HAPPY (belated - I couldn't find the right picture) BIRTHDAY, GUUURL!

On This Day . . .

2008-08-08T17:27:00.004-04:00

Patherine Kackard was born.

Leo Horoscope (Jul 23 - Aug 22)Your life should be humming along in the mid-Leo summer Sun, yet beneath the appearance of the fun and games, someone may be missing. But don't waste energy feeling sorry for yourself. Just because your soul mate is off making movies and missed your birthday doesn't mean it isn't meant to be . . . even if you've never met. . . .

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PATHERINE!

Sometimes, I Hate My Job.

2008-08-07T17:37:00.002-04:00

Today, as part of my job, I listened to about sixteen people tell the story of how they met and had children with their exes. They all met in different places. They all came from different backgrounds. They all had one thing in common (besides the fact that all their relationships exploded and the now hate each other). They had absolutely no courtship period. This led me to wonder - What the hell happened to wooing?

It seems that now-a-days people don’t date anymore. At least they don’t in any way that I recognize it. They “hang out“. They become “friends“. They drunkenly “hook up” and then, SHAZAM!, they’re an item. This repels me on so many different levels.

I am disturbed by this. I’ve always stood by the adage - “You don’t ask? You don’t get.” I expect, no, I demand, a wooing phase. A courtship, if you will. I expect and I expect that my friends expect and I expect that their friends expect that there will be an expectation of…OK, I got carried away. Where was I? Oh! Yeah! I expect that if a man is interested in me he will, oh, I don’t know, do something crazy. Like tell me or show me. I know! I’m a nut.

I feel that this whole hanging out thing as a replacement for dating is along the same lines of the other two things I hate. “The 3 Date Rule” and “Friends With Benefits”. The first, as you all must know, states that on the third date a woman will “give it up”. Too subtle? How about “bang like a drum”? That clearer? Great! The second, as you again know, is a situation where two people who aren’t really interested in each other have sex on occasion. No strings, if you will .

Both these and the hanging out instead of dating trend are for one sole purpose - to make it easier for men to get laid. I shouldn’t even say that it makes it easier for men to get laid. I should say boys. Because, honestly, a man steps up and asks for what he wants. A boy just let’s things happen. That way he can always say, “Hey! I never intended that!” Or, “Oh, it just happened.” Usually these things are said while smirking. Repugnant. It’s called responsibility. Look into it. We have many fine reference materials available. They’re called “dictionaries”.

Now, men, obviously, couldn’t get away with this if it weren’t for women. And the women who are going along with this crap are standing around feeling good about the fact that they’re “fucking like a man”! They believe that this is what the fight for Feminism was for. Well, in a way it was. But, in most ways, it is completely and totally apposed to said principles.

I can see where you’re confused. I’ll explain. Feminism is all about choice. It is your choice to do with your body, mind, life exactly as you please. And, hey, if you want to go out and fuck the neighborhood blind? That’s up to you. Go for it. It’s your right. On the other hand, Feminism is also about respect. And if you think that anybody respects anything that they get without work you’ve obviously never met a rich person. I mean somebody who was born rich. Real rich. I’m talking Rich. Capital “R”. I have. They have no respect for most of what they have. “Oh, that? What? It’s just money!” Or, my favorite, “I just don’t understand why people go to work“.

I mean, it’s America and it’s up to you. Be the catch or be the thing just came along so I took it. It’s up to you. But, please, remember that someday you’ll have children. Maybe you’ll have daughters. . .Think about it. . . I’ll wait. . . There it is! I knew you’d catch up. I have faith in you.

Now, let’s get back to expectations. Everybody should have standards and expectations. They don’t make you picky. They don’t make you high maintenance. They make you, well, a person with standards and expectations. There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, we, as in humans, wouldn’t have survived this long without them. We want to pick out the best mate to continue the species. It’s in our DNA. Is the best way to do that to just take what you can get? To say, eh., you’ll do? No. It’s not.

So, in conclusion, ladies step up to the plate. Have expectations and standards. Gentlemen, step up to the plate. Give us a reason to have expectations and standards. Trust me, you'll be rewarded for it. Why, Dark Fury, I hear you cry out as one, What do you mean? I mean that since nobody out there is doing the right thing when you do you’ll be a king. You’ll be beating the broads off with a stick. I promise you this.

I shall close with a quote that is very close to my heart . . . .

“He that is more than a boy is not for me. He that is less than a man, I am not for him.”
Shakespeare, “Much Ado About Nothing”

There Is No Growth Without Pain. . .Or Something Like That

2008-08-06T23:10:00.002-04:00

Hmmmmm . . . Deep contemplation time . . . .

This evening I had dinner with my best friend. Some of you may know her as Blonde Justice. I know her as my personal therapist. We had an informal two hour session in the parking lot. It made me thoughtful. This may not be the most coherent post. I apologize in advance.

I have, I realize, lived my life as a performer. I was raised to perform and I was good at it. I am good at it.

I was on stage from the time I was five years old until I was about twenty-five (that’s twenty years for the mathematically challenged). But, even before I went on the stage, I was performing. I have worked every day of my life (that’s thirty-three years for the Dark Fury birthday challenged) to make sure that I am pleasing.

As most of you know, my father left before I was born. I, therefore, have a severe fear of abandonment (shocker!). If it weren’t for my grandfather I would have no positive male role model at all. Be that as it may, I have used humor and my general talent for gab and snarky commentary to amuse and try to deflect interest from what was going on internally.

I am dark and twisty. I am broken. I have problems like we all do.

My therapist (Blonde Justice) believes that people want to get to know the “real me.” The me without the chatter. The me without the performing. I tend to disagree. I believe, as I always have, that if people see the dark, twisty, broken me they will run like the wind. I could give you specific examples of when this has happened. Or, worse, I believe that they will use what they find out to hurt me. I could, sadly, give you examples of this as well.

But, will me or nil me, I’m willing to give it a try. This will, I fear, cut waaaaaaaaaay back on my social, what shall we call it? My social coin? I don’t know. I am, as far as I know, invited to most of the places I’m invited to to act as court jester. Well, I’ll still be funny - I can’t change the way G-d made me - but the hat with the bells is coming off.

I was not put on this Earth to be your (collective use to signify all mankind) clown or dancing monkey. I’m allowed to have a down time. It will be difficult but I’m hoping we can all get through it together. And now, per doctors orders, I’m taking a deep breath . . . I’m breathing out . . . And I’m asking . . . Who wants to really know me?

I’ve had surgery that was less painful than that last sentence.

They Who The Lord Doth Smite Stay Smote.

2008-08-04T14:12:00.002-04:00

I'm dieing. Seriously. There are only two options.

1. The devil has possessed me.

2. I have a virus.

If it's number 1 I'm screwed. If it's number two and I have inadvertantlt infected you I apologize. If it's number two and you've inadvertently infected me then I curse you. I curse you and I curse your children and your children's children down to the fourth generation and pray that the Lord, in his wisdom, will smite you with a mighty smiting and thou shalt know his anger through the fact of being smote. Amen.

Also, my prior will (from a couple of months ago - still posted if you want to refresh yourself on what you'll be getting) still stands.

Chaos, Panic and Disorder . . . My Work Here Is Done.

2008-08-01T12:48:00.003-04:00

Today I had a panic attack. It felt like it lasted for an hour and a half. That, of course, is impossible. Panic attacks last for about twenty minutes tops. So, in actual fact, I had a series of them. Being a sensible human being didn't help matters at all.

At 8:30 I was looking over a file and, all of a sudden, I felt like I was going to die. Seriously. Die. Big "D". For about five minutes I thought about going to the hospital which made me think about the fact that I don't have health insurance which made me more agitated. Then I realized it was a panic attack.

I told myself I wasn't having a heart attack. Then I started thinking what if someday it is a heart attack and I mistake it for a panic attack and I die? What then, smarty pants?! Then I told myself it was a panic attack and it would be all over in twenty minutes . . . tops. I started watching the clock. Twenty minutes . . . twenty minutes . . . Twenty one minutes . . . Twenty one? Holy shit. Twenty one! Heart attack! Heart attack! Not panic!! OK, I thought, ok. It's panic. It's panic. DON'T PANIC! Maybe it's time to go back on medication. Then I remembered I don't have health insurance . . . again. BOOM! More panic.

Finally, at ten, a coworker came and asked me if I wanted to go on break. We went outside. I took some (more) deep breaths. We shot the shit. I calmed down.

Keep in mind this all happened, silently, whilst I was sitting at my desk pretending to go over some figures. Say what you will about me but I know how to behave in public. I really should have been born Lady Muck. I have mad stiff upper lip skills . . . um, yo?

I'm fine now. Relatively. The aftermath is almost as bad as the actual attack. I'm sleepy and shaky and want to go to bed. Ain't we got fun?

The point of all this is the following -

Anybody have any valium?

Memories Are Made Of This.

2008-07-31T18:01:00.001-04:00

When I was little I used to throw up every Christmas Eve. I would appear, of course, perfectly calm and blasé. I behaved as if it was any other ordinary day. But inside? Oh, Lord. On the inside I was dying.

After all, I’d been watched, all year, by some old fat guy with a beard. He knew when I was sleeping. He knew when I was awake. He knew if I’d been bad or good, for goodness’ sake!

I never knew if I’d been good enough. I’d tried. G-d knows I’d tried but what about that time I wanted the prize out of the cereal box and dumped half the contents behind the couch. I’d attempted not to be wasteful. I’d eaten as much as I could but, after three bowls in a row, I couldn’t see another frosted flake. They had to go. What if the fat man had seen that? Was that enough to black list me?

Santa, to me, was no saint. He was a judger. He made up random rules and punished children willy nilly as he saw fit. He was a jack booted fascist. But I still wanted those presents. Did that make me a collaborator? Oh, Jesus, would I have to name names for that new Connect 4?! What if nothing was enough? What if it turned out to be random and this year was just the year I went on the list for coal?! Oh, the humanity. Finally, around ten or eleven, I’d throw up and be put to bed with a cool cloth on my forehead.

On Christmas morning my mother and aunts would run into the room and jump on my bed screaming, “get up! Santa came ! Presents!” So, I’d think, I made it through another year. Then I’d roll over and go back to sleep.

Later on in the year I’d think, what if there isn’t really a naughty list? What if he’s just trying to wind us all up? Sadly, we’ll never know so we’ll have to stay on our game. Well played, fat man, well played.

People (don't always) Make Me Sad

2008-07-30T19:01:00.002-04:00

You. MUST. See. This.

If you aren't laughing like a mad thing until you spew sick within the first five minutes there is something wrong with you and you are, sadly, dead to me. I'll miss you . . . but you're dead to me!

Click below for more info.

http://www.amazon.com/Spaced-Complete/dp/B0019MFY3Q/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=dvd&qid=1217459210&sr=8-1

Three (3) Random Things

2008-07-28T17:25:00.000-04:00

1 (one). There is one thing about working in an office I will never get used to - having to pretend interest in other people’s mundane shit. I mean, in retail, I used to just be able to walk away (look! A customer. Gotta’ go. Darn.). Or, working on the phones at GEICO, I could say “oops! I have a call!” There’s no escape in cubicle city. I hear everything from houseplant woes to why people hate paperclips . This, obviously, wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t expected to join in. But, sadly, I am. It is practically required otherwise people start shouting “hey! What about you? Are you paying attention?!” Um, yeah. I got nothin’. I too hate paperclips?

2 (two). On October 11 I may be singing . . . In Maryland . . . In public . . . At a festival. Hu. Weird. I haven’t performed in public in, oh, I don’t know. Yeah, many moons, young ones (Vivienne!). My cousin volunteered me. She’s pimped me out for her own amusement to someone she works with. It’s not definite yet. I have conditions. We’ll see if they’re met.

3 (three). I couldn’t find my glasses for three (3) weeks. This morning I looked in my purse, which I have checked no less than twelve (12) times before, and there they were. A blind person searching for the glasses which allow them to see is a funny bit . . . But not in real life.

Three (3) Things That Made My Week

2008-07-26T14:15:00.002-04:00

1. Spending a morning studying the physical signs of various addictions. Because, let me tell ya’, until you’ve been innocently eating a granola bar and a picture of “meth mouth” pops up on your screen, well, kids, you just ain’t lived. Fun, good times! Please, ignore the fact that I screamed, jumped and almost spewed granola across my cubicle, go Google that shit! (don’t.) It’s pretty! (don’t.) Pinky swear! (seriously, just don’t.)

2. Spending two hours at DMV. You meet such great people there! The staff is super friendly. I may send them Christmas cards this year! Also, of course, it’s great for your self-esteem. There’s nothing like being “cat called” by random, dirty (literally) dudes outside of a government agency to really perk a girl up. It’s hot. White hot. Combine that with all the children who’s parents allow them to roam, free range, around the room and it’s a nice third world atmosphere. All they need, to complete the motif, are a few goats and chickens. I, as a tax payer and lover of a theme, am more than willing to carry the extra expense. Again, I love a theme! Which works out well since the DMV photographic equipment always manages to bring out my inner Mexican. Somehow, I wind up with a tan in any picture they take there. Not just any tan either. But a glorious, dirty tan! The kind of tan that can only be achieved by spending years out in the desert, harvesting cactus to make tequila. . . sans sun block . . . or a hat. Combine that with the fact that you’re not allowed to smile and I look like an angry deportee. Ay!

3. The hotness that is me when I leave the gym. Honestly, boys! Hang onto your control! I’m only one girl!

I do, honestly, heart PITAIYO and know that, in the long run, it’s a good thing. However, that being said, after an average class I look like I’ve been dragged, backwards, across the Serengeti. My hair escapes from my head band within the first ten minutes. Within the first twenty my head scarf is sitting forlornly beside my mat and, by the end, my ponytail holder has given up the ghost as well. Therefore, when I walk out my hair is loose and bigger than ever (it doesn’t like it when I try to confine it and gets . . . Angry).

That’s on a regular day. This week my instructor ate cake before class. We suffered for it.* So, in addition to the hair, this week my pale, sensitive, allergy prone skin was bright red. Which would be fine if it was all over but it wasn’t. It was just in two round spots on my cheeks. Picture it, if you will, stark white face, pink cheeks, huge hair, arms that barely work hanging limply at my sides. I looked like a demonic doll.

Again, boys! Give a girl some room to breathe! I know . . . I know, you can’t help yourselves. Totally understandable. Helen of Troy eat your heart out!

*I, it should be noted, did not have cake. It may be silly but if I’m going to be punished for cake consumption I’d like to be the one consuming the cake. I’m wacky like that!

I Wish I Knew How To Quit You . . . .

2008-07-26T13:54:00.001-04:00

F gluten-free. F it right in the ear with a crooked . . . well, you get the point.

I'm A Stealer!

2008-07-26T13:51:00.002-04:00

I stole this from Erin. I am, yet again, a stealer!

The rules (gotta' have 'em!):

1. Everyone leave a comment with a memory of me. Whether you've known me for a really long time or not long at all, you can add whatever you like! Something, anything!

2. If you continue it on your blog, then I'll come over and add a memory of you! And if you don't have blog, I'll tell my memory in the comments.

“If you are not in fashion, you are nobody.” - Lord Chesterfield

2008-07-17T19:39:00.004-04:00

Bessie Mae Fontlow had spent the first fifty-seven years of her life with the kind of self confidence that can only be imparted to a girl growing up in a small Ohio town as the great-granddaughter of the original founding fathers and possessed of a reasonably attractive face and figure, along with a family fortune that was still pretty darn nice. Until that fateful day when Aleksandr Martel opened his little dress shop at 12th and Main. Yes, Bessie could see the handwriting on the wall with her first look in that shop window!

After twenty plus years as the local fashion leader and Junior League Chairwoman, her time of ascendancy in Port Fontlow was about to come to an end. Sure she'd be able to hold on to the reins for a little while longer by utilizing her well known powers of biting sarcasm after church and in the beauty parlor to belittle that upstart Martel. But Bessie was too much of a realist to imagine she'd be able to stave off the rampantly chic for long . . . and too long an Ohioan to think she'd be able to pull off the new look herself.

A Wee Slice Of Scots Cheesecake . . . Or Should That Be Deep Fried Mars Bar?

2008-07-17T19:18:00.007-04:00

Craig Ferguson.

Funny.

Lovely.

Stay up till 1:30.

You know you want to.

"A library is not a luxury but one of the necessities of life." - Henry Ward Beecher

2008-07-16T18:50:00.003-04:00

The Big Read reckons that the average adult has only read 6 of the top 100 books they've printed.

The Rules:
1) Look at the list and put one * by those you have read.
2) Put a % by those you intend to read.
3) Put two ** by the books you LOVE.
4) Put # by the books you HATE.
5) Post.

I've read 71 . . . maybe when people say I read too much they have a point . . . .

**1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
*2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
*3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
*4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
**5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
*6 The Bible (parts of)
*7 Wuthering Heights
*8 1984 - George Orwell
*9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
*10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
**11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
*12 Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
**13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
**14 Complete Works of Shakespeare
*15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
*16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
*18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
*20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
*21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
*22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
*23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
*24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
**25 The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
*28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
**29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
*30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
*31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
*32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
*33 Chronicles of Narnia- CS Lewis
**34 Emma - Jane Austen
**35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
*36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
*39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
**40 Winnie the pooh - AA Milne
*41 Animal Farm - George Orwell
*42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
*43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
*44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
*45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
**46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
*48 The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
*49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel
*52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
**54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
*57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
%59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
*60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
*61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
*62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
*65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
*#66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
*67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
*68 Bridget Jones's Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie
*70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville
*71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
*72 Dracula - Bram Stoker
**73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
*75 Ulysses - James Joyce
*#76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
*79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
**81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
**83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker
**84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
*85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
*87 Charlotte's Web - EB White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
*89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
*92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
**96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
*97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
**98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare (um, didn’;t we cover this under “The COMPLETE Works?)*99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl
*100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

"Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway" - John Wayne

2008-07-15T18:02:00.003-04:00

My mother says she knew what kind of person I was when I was six years old. She says everything she needed to know about my personality was clear in June of 1981. That’s when I got my ears pierced.

My mother took me, after much begging and annoying repetition, to have holes drilled into my head. I was, as I recall, vaguely excited as I climbed up into the chair. Most of the other girls in my class had already had their ears pierced. They wore little gold studs or tiny little crosses. I didn’t want those. I wanted silver hoops. What can I say? I’m a rebel and I’ll never ever be any good.

The teenager who worked the “gun” was, for a wonder, very nice. She chatted with me about school and what I had to do to keep the holes from closing up as she lined up the drill. Then she shot me.

Excitement disappeared in a red rage of pain and confusion. I screamed the place down. The teenaged girl dropped the gun and tried to put her arm around me. I jumped off of the stool and backed warily away from her. She had, as far as I was concerned, assaulted me violently and for no apparent reason. How dared she?! I took my mother’s hand and tried to lead her out of the danger zone. Who, after all, knew who would be next? Maybe I was just the beginning! Perhaps the big haired tart would now go on a rampage, running through the department store, screaming maniacally while punching holes in unsuspecting shoppers until the floors ran red with the blood of the innocent eared! We had, I knew, to get away from this crazy person.

My mother took me to sit down and have an orange juice. As I sat there, sipping my juice, I contemplated what had just happened. Nobody had told me getting my ears pierced would hurt. I had asked. I’d done research! I was that kind of a kid. Did it hurt was my first question. Everybody I’d asked had said no and looked at me like I was crazy. The world was full of liars.

I thought about kicking every girl in my class. My mother discouraged this by pointing out that there were more of them and they were all bigger than me. I thought about those pukey little studs and crosses. Who needed pierced ears? Not me! Let that one hole close up, see if I cared! Or it could stay open, I decided. I’d always kind of wanted to be a pirate. Maybe this was my foot in the door to a glorious seafaring career.

After about fifteen minutes my mother and I got up and started walking around the store. We shopped for clothes. We looked at house wares. We tried on shoes. Time, as it is want to do, passed. It had been an hour since my mauling. I reached up and touched my ear. It still hurt. A lot. When I looked at my fingers there were flakes of dried blood on them.

I thought about all those stupid girls. I thought about their twee gold studs and crosses. Screw them, I decided, and the horses they road in on. I told my mother I wanted to go back and get my other ear done. She, doubtful that I’d go through with it, took me back to the jewelry counter.

There she stood. My nemesis. The girl with the gun. She turned around from the display she was arranging and, seeing me, flinched. I walked back to the chair. Without looking at her I climbed up. I sat there as straight as Queen Victoria on a bad day. I crossed my arms over my chest. I looked straight ahead.

The gun slinger walked over to me. “Are you ready,” she asked. I nodded, eyes ahead, chin up, shoulders back. She raised the gun shakily to my unblemished ear. She pulled the trigger and recoiled immediately.

I didn’t make a sound. I climbed off of the chair, back still stiff as a board, and took my mother’s hand. “You didn’t have to do it,” she told me. “Yes, I did,” I said.

I Don't Know Why These Make Me Laugh But They Do!

2008-07-14T00:30:00.003-04:00

Texas is called "The Lone Star State" because Texans know that compared to Chuck Norris, their other celebrities just don't measure up.

Scientists collected a single drop of sweat from Chuck Norris' leg after he performed a roundhouse kick. The resulting serum turned out to be the Polio vaccine.

Chuck Norris always knows the EXACT location of Carmen San Diego.

Chuck Norris' digestive system also functions as an oil refinery.

The gallons contained in Chuck Norris' hat rivals infinity.

Chuck Norris' beard is the modern day equivalent of chain mail.

Chuck Norris can grind metal with his stubble.

Chuck Norris' favorite cereal is Kellogg's Marbles 'N' Gravel.

When Oppenheimer said "I have become death, the destroyer of world." Chuck just laughed....then kicked him in the head.

Never play a game of Sorry! with Chuck Norris. It can only end in tears. Yours.

Chuck Norris can peel oranges with his eyelids.

In a fight between Batman and Superman, the winner would be Chuck Norris.

Upon being denied a McGriddle at McDonald's because it was 10:30, Chuck Norris roundhouse kicked the store so hard it became a Wendy's.

Chuck Norris knows how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop.

Oxygen requires Chuck Norris to live.

Chuck Norris knew that Soylent Green was people.

Chuck Norris is the "I" in "team."

Chuck Norris once kicked a horse in the chin. It's descendents are known as Giraffes.

Chuck Norris never makes grammatical or spelling errors. He just invents new words and grammatical rules.

Chuck Norris CAN teach an old dog new tricks.

Chuck Norris wears bear traps on his feet instead of sandals.

Chuck Norris once took sleeping pills. They made him blink.

Chuck Norris expects the Spanish Inquisition.

Scientists recently found matter to have three states: Particle, wave and Chuck Norris.

All of Chuck Norris' white blood cells have black belts. This is why Chuck Norris never gets sick.

There's Kilo, Mega, Giga, Tera, Peta, Exa, Zeta, Yotta, and Chuck Norris. Nobody can count that high, however, so it isn't practical to use.

Chuck Norris spends hours staring directly into the sun. We call that "night".

Chuck Norris once took up gardening, and tried to "Hoe a row". We now call it the Grand Canyon.

John Donne was wrong:
Chuck Norris is an island.

Chuck Norris consistently wins at Monopoly owning only Marvin's Gardens as property.

When Chuck Norris was 7 seconds old he was reading at a 5th grade level. At 12 seconds he had already published a review of the entire Ayn Rand collection - he found it cliched.

The reason the aborigines won't let you take their picture ----> Chuck Norris.

When Chuck Norris stares into a mirror, even his reflection knows better than to stare back.

The best way to stop a Chuck Norris attack is to play dead. The only SURE way to stop a Chuck Norris attack is to BE dead.

Chuck Norris can breathe in and out at the same time, when he needs to breathe at all, which is never.

Chuck Norris once delivered a baby in the back seat of a taxi cab. He delivered it a roundhouse kick to the sternum.

Chuck Norris can win a game of Connect Four in only three moves.

Chuck Norris can slam revolving doors.

Chuck Norris is not afraid of the dark. The dark is afraid of Chuck Norris.

Chuck Norris lathers and rinses, but doesn't have to repeat.

Geico saved 15% by switching to Chuck Norris.

Charity looks at the need and not at the cause. - German Proverb

2008-07-13T00:02:00.004-04:00

When little Avebury Baume-Zwinglie first began seeing visions, everyone said it was probably just a phase he was going through. After all, Grand Uncle Pascalian had been known for his unusual water colors and, back in ‘o8, Great Grandmother Niemcewicz had collected fruit fly stationary long before it became fashionable.

Yes, it could be said that little Avebury was just another off leaf on a disconcertingly diversified family tree. However, when little Avebury began to insist that the Dies Irae could be heard sung by barn swallows and the Ascension viewed every day at 4:00 PM down by the falls people began to wonder if things had gone too far. His father, Gwent Lee, was heard to wonder what, if anything, his son could have been learning in Sunday School all this time; while his mother, HaytieMay, asked what difference that could possibly make once the neighbors found out what Avebury was up to. After all, passion plays were alright for others but the Baume-Zwingli family had been devout Anglicans for generations and everyone knew they just didn’t go in for such nonsense.

In the face of such family ferment, little Avebury decided to record his visions on film. Unfortunately, Avebury didn’t have much, or any, experience with cameras, he wasn’t able to get any color film and the exposures may not have been all that he could have hoped for. But, still, Avebury would like your opinion. What do you think he saw down by the falls that day?

In order to pursue this issue further little Avebury needs your help.
Please send your tax deductible donations to*:
What The Boy Saw & Why
C/A Guido “Fingers” Delgado
P.O. Box 666
Jersey City, NJ 07303

*Edited ICOI** - Don't actually do this
** In Case Of Idiot

"My life needs editing.” - Mort Sahl

2008-07-12T23:22:00.002-04:00

A couple of you may notice that a few entries have been taken down. Blogger didn't go nutso I did it. Why? Because I found them both dull and poorly written.

Yes, I left up the stoned dental post. What? That didn't make me yawn.

I'm In Love . . .

2008-07-11T23:46:00.002-04:00

With the person who invented sedation dentistry.

It's the dentist without fear and with a day long nap. Seriously. I love this person, whomever they may be, and I would willingly have their babies . . . if they're attractive. If not I'd at least kiss them with tongues. What? I'm shallow. Don't judge me!

I'm still slighly stoned on Triazolam & Valium.

Lovely.

Edited To Add: I long for toast.

To Quote Crocodile Dundee . . .

2008-07-07T17:41:00.003-04:00

"You can live on it...but it tastes like shit."

All I wanted was a shelf stable protein bar (that didn't cost a stupid amount of money) I could take to court with me. We get stuck for hours without a break and my blood sugar gets low. Very. Low. This is not good. And, as it happens, neither are these damn bars. Feh!

PS I actually purchased the hazelnut variety but couldn't find a picture of that one.

It's A C-O-N-Spiracy

2008-07-02T22:39:00.002-04:00

Why does it cost more for one person to go on vacation than two? What the fuck is that? If I want to spend a week in St. Maarten by myself it costs, for hotel and flight, $1033. If I go with someone it costs, for the exact same thing, $633 a person.

I ask, again, what the fuck is that?!

I'll tell you what that is. That, my friend, is a c-o-n-spiracy!

"Inside every cynical person, there is a disappointed idealist." - George Carlin

2008-06-23T20:45:00.004-04:00

This is the first comedy album I ever listened to. I can probably still recite most of it. That's all I have to say about that.

"I think people should be allowed to do anything they want. We haven't tried that for a while. Maybe this time it'll work." George Carlin

"I was thinking about how people seem to read the Bible a whole lot more as they get older; then it dawned on me - they're cramming for their final exam." George Carlin

"I went to a bookstore and asked the saleswoman, "Where's the self-help section?" She said if she told me, it would defeat the purpose." George Carlin

"I would never want to be a member of a group whose symbol was a guy nailed to two pieces of wood." George Carlin

"I'm always relieved when someone is delivering a eulogy and I realize I'm listening to it." George Carlin

"I'm completely in favor of the separation of Church and State. My idea is that these two institutions screw us up enough on their own, so both of them together is certain death." George Carlin

Chivalry isn’t dead it’s just taking a very long nap.

2008-06-11T17:22:00.001-04:00

I went to DC on Monday for a job interview (see post below). As we all know, I imagine, I have no sense of direction. If it isn’t on or near 14th , G or H St then I have no idea where it is. Now, given an hour or so, I can usually find it. It just takes a while.

On Monday the traffic was, in a word, sucky. No. It was beyond sucky to horrendous. I left at 8 and got into DC at 10:15. My interview was at 11. So, knowing that I have no sense of direction, I decided to park and take a cab to my destination.

I found a parking garage. I paid the nice man (not sarcasm, surprisingly), left my key and ran to the corner. I then proceeded to get passed by about six taxis.

Finally, after what felt like a year (keep in mind it was about 90 degrees and I panic if I think I’m going to be late), a taxi pulled over in front of me. Jubilation! Wait. No. Not jubilation. Wailing and gnashing of teeth! The cab had pulled up for a man in a grey suit standing behind me. Great, I thought, just perfect. I turned back to the street so that I could try and flag another cab.

Before I could raise my arm the man standing behind me tapped me on the shoulder. I turned; ready to be venomous to this usurper of transport. He smiled and held open the cab door.

“Take this one. I have time.”

I was stunned. Literally. I could feel my mouth start to hang open like a slack jawed yokel. I stopped it just in time. I said thank you, most politely, as I (attempted) to slide into the seat. Sadly, my perfect and graceful entrance was ruined by the fact that my shoe fell off as I was getting in. I grabbed it and attempted to fling it in to the cab without anyone noticing. As if. He held the door for me the entire time. I said thanks again.

“You have a nice day, miss.”

Then he shut the door and I was off. I arrived at my interview at 10:30. Thirty minutes to spare!

Thank you, Mister Grey Suit, wherever you are. If ever I think it’s time to give up on men and become a nun (would a convent take a Jewish girl?) I shall remember you came along and saved the day. Well done, sir. Well done.

9:30 This Morning

2008-06-11T17:21:00.001-04:00

I’ve been looking for another (full-time, benefit offering) job. So far it’s going in a pretty weird and diverse direction. I’ve applied to be an application adjudicator for INS, an administrative assistant for the newsroom at NPR and for a full-time gig at my current place of employment (I shan’t hold my breath).

The first place I applied was at INS. Wow. It takes a while to get approved to even send in a resume to the Fed. First I had to take the test. I scored well. If I hadn’t you’d know I was clinically brain dead and that it was time to pull life-support. That was in May. I just got the results from the test yesterday. It came with instructions to fax over my resume. After they receive my resume they will look it over and, if anything is available and my skills meet what they’re looking for and nobody else scored higher than me, give me a call. Then, of course, there’s the poly (Would you allow known terrorists into the country and give them directions to Shoney’s and a star map? Um…no?). After that there is the clearance investigation (To your knowledge has she ever provided a known terrorist or illegal with directions to the nearest Shoney’s…and a star map? Um…no?). After that there is the physical and drug testing (If you saw a known terrorist or illegal running with a star map in hand to the nearest Shoney’s would you be able to outrun them? Um…no? Is that because of all the crack? Um…no?). Then, maybe, they’ll offer me a job. It’s a crap shoot.

Then I got a call from NPR. I applied there a long time ago. Who remembers when? Not me. I’ve been applying there and at PBS for years so it could have been at any time. I got that e-mail on Thursday of last week and went in for the interview on Monday. I think it went well but I’ve thought that before and never heard from the company again. Keep your fingers crossed. I want that one. They said they’d be able to let me know in about a week and a half to two weeks. I feel pretty good about it as out of six hundred applications they chose to interview six people. I was the first interview which makes me nervous. I prefer to be the last. That way my sparkling wit and personality are still fresh when they make their decision. Oh, well. You can’t have everything in this life, I suppose. Why not? Because if you had everything you ever wanted handed to you you’d be an obnoxious little weed like, oh, I don’t know…just off the top of my head…Paris Hilton.

As for my current place of employment? I have an interview there on Thursday. It’s not much money but it is a permanent full-time position with benefits. I enjoy what I do there but this would be different. I don’t know. I’ll take it if it’s offered and I can’t get anything else. They’ve irritated me with their stance that I’m unqualified to do my current job. The bloom is off the rose. What can ya’ do? Suck it up and move on, I guess.

So, that’s what’s going on in my world. How are things with you?

DO NOT Rent This.

2008-06-07T22:09:00.002-04:00

Seriously. I don't have words to explain the utter, well, badness of this movie. It's horrible. G-d offal, really.

It hurts me to say it but it's true.

Rent This.

2008-06-06T19:55:00.002-04:00

I know, I know. You think you won't enjoy it. You think I only enjoyed it because it has 4 things going for it that I enjoy anyway.

A. Vince Vaughn

B. Comedy

C. Documentary

and, of course,

D. Vince Vaughn

You are wrong. Rent it. Is it the best movie ever? No. Obviously not. Is it well worth your time? Yes, if only for the extras.

"They can conquer who believe they can." - Virgil

2008-06-03T17:36:00.003-04:00

EDITED TO ADD: Yes, I know today is the fourth. Due to the storm on the third I was unable to post the below.

Journal Entry - 6/3

Today I went to work. I sat in my office. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something move.

Oh, how I wish I'd been having a psychotic break. There was a large, ugly, vile, foul, disgusting and other adjectives which are synonyms for horrible things as well spider sitting in the middle of my desk. I jumped up and ran out of my office to find something heavy with which to murder, smash, kill and wallop it. When I got back it was gone.

I looked but I couldn't find it. I could, however, feel it looking at me. Hiding. Waiting for it's moment. Biding it's time. Ready to strike.

I text messaged a couple of friends to share my horror. One felt my pain. One wrote back and told me that no matter where I am I'm never more than five feet from a spider. Always. I contemplated this. I decided that he is a bastard and deleted him from my phone book.

Paranoid for the rest of the day. Conclusion? Let constant vigilance be your motto.

"A doctor can bury his mistakes but an architect can only advise his client to plant vines.”- F. L. Wright

2008-06-02T19:57:00.005-04:00

Above: A Craftsman Style Bungalow a.k.a The Perfect Home

I must stop watching HGTV. It just makes me bitter. All the wrong people have all the money. And by that I mean all the people with horrible taste.

Somebody, please, tell me why a single person needs a 3000 sf home. Please! I need to know. You have four kids? OK. Fine. I'll give ya' that that amount of space is desirable (not necessary). But a single person? Come on!

Why do they all choose the mcmansion? If I see one more show where they pass up a pristine original craftsman style bungalow for a trashy, may as well be a pre-fab 4000 sf behemoth because they "need" the space I shall scream. Scream, I tell you!

How much crap do you have? Do you need it all? No. No, you don't. But, please, continue to spend millions of dollars on houses that won't last for more than fifteen years. Go for it. Sound investment. Well done.

Look At What I Found On My Car! Sweet.

2008-05-28T18:09:00.005-04:00

Grrrr! I scanned the letter that I found on my windshield but it won't load! Damn. Damn. Double damn!

Oh, well. I shall have to type it out for you.

"If Clinton had did his job and took Oboma out during his administration 9/11/2001 would not have happened. USS Cole, the 1st bombing of the World Trade Center, US Embassy in Africa and Saudi Arabia all happened on his watch while he was having sex in our White House. Get Educated!"

Open Letter To The Lady (I assume from the writing) Who Wrote The Above:

For you to be so angered by a few bumper stickers that you felt the need to write a note I have to assume that you are, in some way, attached to the military or attached to one of it's soldiers. I want to be clear, I support our troops. The official death toll reached 4000 in March of this year. In April it was at a seven month high. Things are not getting better. I support our troops. I support their families.

I don't want anybody put in harms way for an illegal war. I say bring them home. Let them watch their kids grow up. A lot of them are kids themselves. They are so young they haven't even begun. Let them live their lives. Let them live. Bring them home.

I recommend you, and everybody, visit the following site - http://www.vaiw.org/ (Veterans Against The Iraq War).

That being said, and I do mean every word, I must take issue with the following points of your missive.

A. "...had did"? Really? I'm going to call that a gimmee Mrs. Anonymous Angry Person.

B. Oboma? Who the hell is that? I think you were trying to write Obama but, even then, you're wrong.

C. USS Cole -
Do you really expect President Clinton to capture and convict anyone in one month? Hu. President Bush has had how many years and trillions of dollars to capture Bin Laden? Oh, wait. I’m sorry. We don’t have standards for him. My bad. Well, that’s a good thing. Because the only confession they got for that was from a man who was tortured under the Bush regime. Yeah. That’s right. Regime. Did we want to give anybody more martyrs? Hu. That’s a stellar idea. Wait. Hold on. No. It's not.

D. The first WTC attack -
Ramzi Ahmed Yousef, the leader of this attack, was captured in 1995 and sentenced to 240 years in prison. A few more were captured and also sentenced. One man is at large and believed to be hiding in Baghdad. Um, has Bush captured him? No. Again, good thing you don’t have standards for him.

E. US Embassy In Africa -
President Clinton ordered missile strikes to try to not capture but kill Bin Laden in 1998. Republicans, in an effort to keep our country safe from oral sex, accused him of trying to manufacture a crisis to get attention away from the Lewinsky scandal.
PS? Four conspirators were captured & sentenced to life without parole. True, there are, I believe, 15 (I’m rocky on the exact number) who remain at large.

F. Saudi Arabia -
I can only assume you're talking about the attack on Khobar Towers which was used as military housing. The Saudis arrested 13 Saudis and a Lebanese chemist but didn’t allow US agents to question them. Where are they now? Has Bush used his “close” relationship with the Saudi royal family to have them extradited? No. They’re still in Saudi custody even though they were convicted by grand jury in 2001. US agents haven’t even been allowed access to question them as yet. What kind of information might they have? I guess we’ll never know.

G. Yes, President Clinton had sex in our White House. So? Most presidents have. Warren G. Harding, Franklin D. Roosevelt and, of course, John F. Kennedy to name three. I say, again, so what? That, my friend, is between them, their wives and their G-d. It's not my business. Nor, I feel I must point out, is it yours.

In conclusion, I believe in your right to express your opinion. I also believe you're wrong. Ain't America grand?

"I have a fine sense of the ridiculous, but no sense of humor.” - E. Albee

2008-05-27T21:47:00.003-04:00

A little over a year ago, while I was still at insurance hell, I was standing in an elevator when an attractive man got on. The only one in the whole building it should be noted. I proceeded to make an ass out of myself when he spoke to me. It was a bad day and I was in a bad mood. It was bad. There was badness. We spoke a few times after that but, let me be clear, it was still bad. Comprende?

Today I saw him again at the gym. I almost said hi but then I thought what? What am I going to say? Hey, remember that time when I was a bitch to you? ‘Member that? That was awesome! So, needless to say, I did not say hello.

The point, if I may be permitted to believe I have one, is what the hell is wrong with me? I can talk to anybody. I am, I flatter myself, quite the social butterfly. I can shoot the breeze with anybody about anything. Unless, of course, it’s a man I’m attracted to.

If I’m not attracted to a man I can make him think I believe the sun shines out of his ass. This, most likely, explains why I’ve made out with at least two men I had no interest in. What? I hate to be rude. Don’t judge me. Did I sleep with them? No. Good manners can go too far.

Obviously I can at times speak to men I find attractive. Sometimes I am on a roll. I am the party and the party don’t stop! There we come to the second and, possibly larger, problem. I am funny. No. I am Funny. Capital “F”. I can’t make myself be less funny. Not for my own good. Not for some dude. Because, let us be frank, the essential difference between men and women is that women want a a funny man but men want a woman with a good sense of humor.

You think they’re the same? Wrong! If somebody is funny then they make you laugh. If somebody has a good sense of humor (to you, it’s subjective after all) then that means that either you find the same things funny or that they find you funny. Think about it. You see? Not the same. Different.

These are the reasons why I will, most likely, end up adopting a little girl from Asia . I shall name her Inga. Don’t worry, you’re all invited to the Bat Mitzvah.

I've Been Tagged

2008-05-25T18:24:00.000-04:00

ABC of Me . . . .

A. Attached or Single - Single

B. Best Friend(s) - Olivia

C. Cake or Pie - Cake

D. Day of Choice - January 20, 2009

E. Essential Item - Sunglasses & Sun Block

F. Flavor of Ice Cream - Strawberry, Vanilla or Baskin Robins Mint Chip

G. Gummy Bears or Worms - Neither

H. Hometown - Fredericksburg, VA

I. Indulgences - Sleeping, Shopping For Books, Cooking

J. January or July- January

K. Kids - in the future

L. Last movie I saw in a theater - P.S. I Love You (I think)

(M is Missing in Action)

N. Number of siblings - Zero

O. Oranges or Apples - Oranges

P. Phobias or Fears - Dentists, Spiders, Heights, Clowns, Being Served Crab Accidentally

Q. Quote - "This is why we can’t have nice things”

R. Reasons to smile - Dogs, Horses, Friends, Family, Craig Ferguson, Mike Myers

S. Season - Spring & Fall

T. Tag 4 - Everybody has been tagged.

U. Unknown fact about me - I hate most perfumes and scented candles.

V. Vegetarian or oppressor of Animals - Oppressor.

W. Worst Habit - Smoking, Biting My Nails, Grinding My Teeth

X. X-rays or Ultrasounds - Which would I rather have? X-ray, I guess. Weirdo.

Y. Your favorite Food - Green Peas, Strawberries, My Grandmother’s Beef Stew, Okra, Waffles, Anything I Haven’t cooked because after spending hours with something I just don’t want to eat it. I’m weird.

Z. Zodiac - Taurus

"It was not Cafe Society, it was Nescafe Society.” Noel Coward

2008-05-22T17:28:00.003-04:00

Ms. Viduity Jones-Thespis finally understood the full meaning of her family's coat of arms (Alles Ist Veruckt) after she dropped the "Dear John" letter into the mailbox and then remembered, just a moment too late, that she didn't have a boyfriend. How embarrassing! What would people think? Well, at least she would always have the automat.

There was something inspirational about those little windows all filled with good food and they never judged you harshly, even if you didn't have a quarter for the large lemon tart. How kind everyone was toiling away back there filling up the pot roast window, making sure the tuna salad sandwich hadn't gone too limp, and where would she be without their unlimited tea service? It was all so comforting somehow. It made Viduity think that things might turn out alright after all.

If suffering brought wisdom, the dentist’s office would be full of luminous ideas. ~Mason Cooley

2008-05-22T17:10:00.001-04:00

Tomorrow I am going to the dentist. I made the appointment at 10:30 this morning. I have not stopped thinking about it. Even when I’m thinking about other things I’m still thinking, in the back of my mind, about the dentist. I am, in case you couldn’t tell, terrified of the dentist. I’m thirty-three years old and I want my mommy to go with me.

This is, of course, a totally irrational fear. My current dentist (we won’t even speak of my first dentist who was a bad man and should rot in hell) and her staff have never been anything but kind to me. They are always very understanding of my phobia. They’re lovely people. I fear them like they were the reincarnation of Mengele.

I’m just going in for an exam tomorrow to see how badly I’ve chipped my tooth. Basically, it’s x-rays. They asked me, smart people, if I needed to be sedated. Yes, I thought, of course! And not that twilight crap either. I want a full on morphine drip with a xanax chaser! But I said that no, I believed I could handle it. Then I laughed in a self deprecating manner.

Humiliation is a great motivator to courage.

Every tree shakes.

2008-05-20T20:19:00.001-04:00

This evening I took a Yoga/Pilates/Tai Chi class. It has a name which I can’t recall. It might be Pitaio. Or it might not. Like I said, I can’t recall.

Regardless! I spent an hour twisting like a pretzel. It didn’t suck . . and by that I mean it was fantastic.

Who knew I have kind of good balance? Not me. I fall down when I’m standing still. We won’t even talk about walking and chewing gum. People have gotten injured on that one. OK. Fine. We talked about it. I’m sorry. I had a picture in my head of me falling over and starting a domino effect around the room. While that would have been funny (and we all know I’ll humiliate myself for a laugh) it didn’t happen.

I think I finally found an exercise that I enjoy. Weird. Well, not so much. I enjoy anything I can do in bare feet.

This is not to say that it wasn’t wicked hard. It was. Oh, yes. It was. But in a good way (insert your own dirty joke as I’m tired). I shall be there again next week at 6:30 sharp. I encourage everyone who is a member of AMFAM to join me.

The plus? I hear Pilates makes you taller. If I keep it up I may hit 5’2”.

Dare I dream?

I dare.

"The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity. " - Ellen Parr

2008-05-19T17:49:00.003-04:00

Journal Entry - 6/19

Today I went to work. I sat in my office. I thought about nothing. At least I tried to think about nothing.

It's more difficult to think of nothing than you'd think. When you try to make your mind a total blank odd thoughts seem to pop out of nowhere. Well, out of your subconscious, obviously, but they seem to come from nowhere.

For example, why can't dogs eat grapes? I heard that on Animal Planet last night. It was the only part of the program I heard and, at the time, I didn't think about it. Now, however, I want to know. Why not?

Did they mean that dogs shouldn't eat grapes? This seems more likely as my last dog ate grapes all the time. So, clearly, dogs can eat grapes. It's physically possible.

If they meant they shouldn't eat grapes I ask, again, why not? Is there a secret chemical that only vets know about that dogs can't digest? My dog could. Was she a wonder pup? She was dumb as ditch water (I know the expression is actually dull as ditch water but I don't care) so maybe it was a Wile E. Coyote thing. Maybe as long as she didn't know they were bad for her they couldn't hurt her. It's a mystery.

I was interrupted at around 1:30 and lost my train of thought. Bored for the rest of the day. Conclusion? A healthy intellectual curiosity is important in keeping your thought processes nimble.

“Anyone can be a millionaire, but to become a billionaire you need an astrologer.” - J. P. Morgan

2008-05-18T19:51:00.002-04:00

Aries Horoscope (Mar 21 - Apr 19) Things are looking up, yet there's a stress that won't magically disappear. But even with too much happening, you can make time to enjoy yourself without going into denial about something important. You have an innate skill: you can live in your own imagination (see Willy Wonka for further info) and, if someone breaks in on your day dream you can break their spine. In. Half. That’ll learn ‘em.

Taurus Horoscope (Apr 20 - May 20) This can be a wonderful day as your key planet, Venus, trines optimistic Jupiter. Instead of thinking about all the things that might go wrong, take the good times as they come now. Don't worry; there really is no astrological reason to be afraid of what comes next in your life. Does that mean you don’t have any reason in the real, actual world not to worry? Ha! Hell no. However, we’re just concerned with the astrological. So good luck with that, we’ll check ya’ later!

Gemini Horoscope (May 21 - Jun 20) An unexpected event today can pull you into an emotional situation and at first you may be less than comfortable. At another time you might lightheartedly avoid this profound kind of interaction; now, however, you are more than ready to take it on. Your involvement with others on a heart-centered level will supply you with a deeper sense of joy and enduring gratitude than that time you backed over that old lady in the Piggly Wiggly parking lot. That was good times and all but this heart centered stuff is where it’s at!

Cancer Horoscope (June 21 - Jul 22) Even if you continue to ride the waves of unexpressed feelings that come to the surface, they aren't sufficient to lure you away from a very sweet experience. You must stay open to the love that is all around you for the best things to happen. And if you're fearful, just keep in mind that you have every reason to be. Life is pain. Hope kills. Most marriages end in divorce. War. Famine. Plague. You get the idea but, on the up side, we’re sure your life will be different…maybe.

Leo Horoscope (Jul 23 - Aug 22) Excellent news might come your way today, but you have to be receptive to the message or it will pass you by unnoticed. The rewards at work can now be less emotional than practical. You might even be lucky enough to receive an unexpected cash windfall. Don't attempt to control the positive flow of events; just lay back and enjoy. Swim around in the positive vibes till you get all pruney then jump out and canon ball back in.

Virgo Horoscope (Aug 23 - Sep 22) Even if you are anxious about your feelings, it's healthier to express them than to keep them to yourself. Although this may go against your natural inclination, take a chance. Beware; once you begin to share, it may be difficult to stop. All those emotions that you usually bottle up, because they’re messy and gross, will come oozing to the surface. So, for G-d’s sake, go into hiding till this whole thing passes. Unless, of course, you want to scare the bejesus out of people then go to town!

Libra Horoscope (Sep 23 - Oct 22) It seems as if everything will turn out for the best, for your key planet, Venus, is harmonizing with expansive Jupiter and encouraging you to indulge in your senses. This isn't a day to be lazy and wait for something to happen. Go out of your way to manifest the beauty that you touch in your space of dreams. Or, barring that, rip off the ideas from HGTV. They’re so simple! As long as you have a glue gun, a staple gun, a jigsaw, a spare fourteen thousand dollars and a week to a month to do a project. See? Easy peasy!

Scorpio Horoscope (Oct 23 - Nov 21) Even in the most difficult situations, your attitude remains the key to your happiness. Material success, however, can be a problem, but don't let your goals get in your way. Do whatever makes you feel good about yourself now and the money will follow. There still may be feelings that need to be shared; express them with abundant love. Don't push too hard. Still, some people are pretty dumb so you might have to push a little harder than you might like. Well, not harder than you like. You, after all, are a pretty violent personality. So, let’s just say you should push hard enough to get the point across but not so hard that you do permanent damage. Is that safe? Oh, we hope we haven’t become involved in what is sure to be a pro-longed legal struggle! Damn.

Sagittarius Horoscope (Nov 22 - Dec 21) Your ruling planet, Jupiter, receives a lovely touch of sensuality today from Venus the Lover. Even if you had a hard time recently, it will be difficult for you to be negative now. Others, too, will be more optimistic while in your presence. And, for this reason, they might seek you out, putting you on the most wanted list -- not for punishment, but rather for fun and games. Which might, now that we think about it, include punishment. Hey! We aren’t here to judge. You do what you like. That’s between you, your partner, the goat and your G-d! Just hide the video tape. Lots of stuff is still illegal you know. Better safe than sorry.

Capricorn Horoscope (Dec 22 - Jan 19) You may be temporarily released from a stressful work situation because your coworkers and superiors suddenly see you as more graceful and charming than before. You are eager to encourage everyone else and now your optimism is reflected back toward you. Don't dally; initiate action that involves groups, for your people skills are now supported by an acute sense of good timing. This will pass after the new moon passes through Jupiter in about - - -oops! Ya’ missed it! Slow poke. Is that your boss bellowing your name? Damn. Bet you wish you’d checked your horoscope earlier, don’t ya’?

Aquarius Horoscope (Jan 20 - Feb 18) You may be able to get away with something now, but don't push your luck too far or your day could implode. If you do go overboard, it will come back at you very quickly. Give yourself permission to receive the love that you desire, without greedily taking more than is available. Your eyes, remember, are bigger most of the time than your stomach. Or any other organ you’d like to think of. Two or three at a time is enough for anybody outside of Caligula so calm down and just remember what happened to him. Ew.

Pisces Horoscope (Feb 19 - Mar 20) Unexpected events might have recently shocked you awake and today it's time to regroup, relax and recuperate. Enjoy your freedom as you open your heart to the positive energy and the encouragement that is now coming your way. Receive the good news without resistance. Opportunity may be knocking at your door, but it takes your participation to make something important happen. So open the door. Don’t be such a putz! What? You’re too good to talk to your neighbors? You’re in hiding from INS? What? Open the damn door. And, while we’re at it, seek treatment for your obvious agoraphobia. They have medication for that now! Jeez. Read a pamphlet some time!

The quality of an individual is reflected in the standards they set for themselves.

2008-05-16T19:03:00.001-04:00

Journal Entry - 5/16

Today I went to work. I sat in my office. I listened to a co-worker, who will be married in a matter of days, talk about vows, love and commitment. As my mind wandered I recalled that a friend of mine told me once that all love is conditional. While, at the time, I found that to be a sad and cynical statement (and coming from me that means something) I decided today that this was, in fact, the smartest piece of philosophy I’d ever heard.

I made a list of deal breakers. Even if I loved someone enough to give them two kidneys the following would end that love immediately. Full stop.

1. Needing new kidneys. Honestly! Why were they so careless with the first two? This is why we can’t have nice things.

2. Enjoying the musical stylings of Robert Goulet not for it’s funny kitsch value but as an artist.

3. Encouraging any child of mine to play football. I would never be with a man who Loved (capital “L”) football. Therefore, at some point, they have fooled me into believing that they either hate it or are just fond of it. This is called fraud.

4. Eating and enjoying Miracle Whip.

5. You hate Elvis? You’re dead to me. I can accept this flaw in my friends but in my own home? How dare you, sir?

This list took ten seconds. Bored for the rest of the day. Conclusion? One must have ones standards.

Conversations With . . . Vol. IV

2008-05-15T17:17:00.006-04:00

Anonymous (I’m trying out tact.)

Him: Tangled webs deceive!

Me: Pardon?

Him: Tangled webs deceive. It's Shakespeare.

What I WANTED to say: No. It's not. Nowhere, in any of his myriad works, did Shakespeare write that tangled webs deceive. Not once. I promise. Sir Walter Scott did write "oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive." The two are quite different. Seriously.

And, while we're having this little chat, I'd also like to point out that you misquote Shakespeare all the time. Every day. Every. Single. Day. I wish this to cease. At once, if you would be so kind. I would also like, if I may, to assure you that the following statements you have made over the past few weeks are also incorrect.

A. Hamlet never said "alas, poor Yorick, I knew him well." "Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio, a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. " That is the line and it isn't, as you seem to assume, suitable to every occasion.

B. Romeo and Juliet did not live "happily ever after". Spoiler Alert! They didn't live. Period.

And last but by no means least,

C. Shakespeare did not, let me be perfectly clear on this point as, if you take nothing else from this conversation, you must learn this, live in Victorian England. Unless, of course, he was a time traveler and, even then, he would have been more of a tourist and not, as you assert, a subject of Her Majesty Victoria Regina.

Comprende, chief?

What I ACTUALLY said: Hu.

Then I walked away.

Quick, like a bunny.

2008-05-11T21:28:00.004-04:00

Sweet Lord, I love this movie.

"We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a saltshaker half-full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, laughers, screamers... Also, a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of beer, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls. Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get locked into a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge, and I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon. "

"Let's get down to brass tacks. How much for the ape?"

"What kind of rat bastard psychotic would play that song right now, at this moment? "

Breakfast Is The Most Important Meal Of The Day Or At Least The First

2008-05-09T22:20:00.004-04:00

Journal Entry - 5/9/08

Today I went on a job interview. I was asked, by the nice lady in the pink suit, if I speak Spanish. I said I can speak a little Spanish. She said that was good because they have a lot of Latinos in the community. But she didn’t say La-teen-os or Lah-teen-os. She said Latin-os. The interview came to an end.

Today, after the interview, I went to work. I sat in my office. My mind wandered.

I thought about Latin-O’s the new breakfast cereal from Quaker. They could have so many flavors. Cassava. . . . Guava . . . Chicharron. . . .The possibilities are endless. I think that unbeknownst to me I was in the room with a great innovator today. Conclusion? Always carry a notebook so you can write down all your great ideas. She didn't and now I get to steal it.

Latin-O’s! Theeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey’re Bueno!

“Death is the sound of distant thunder at a picnic.” - W. H. Auden

2008-05-08T18:11:00.004-04:00

Years later, whenever the subject of "that terrible day" was brought up, no one could quite remember exactly why Great Aunt Tibby and Grand Uncle Thunk hadn't gone to help little CeeCee when it became clear something was amiss. Some said it was their ingrained sense of decorum which just naturally prevented them from making a scene by attempting to run across the sand. Others thought it had something to do with the fact that they had just finished luncheon twenty minutes before and everyone knew, back then, that you shouldn't go near the water until at least an hour after eating.

When in her cups, Mother used to say darkly that anyone who had known CeeCee at all well wouldn't even raise the question.

The last refuge of the insomniac is a sense of superiority to the sleeping world. - Leonard Cohen

2008-05-07T20:29:00.003-04:00

Can’t sleep. Can’t sleep. Can’t. Bloody. Sleep.

The worst part is that due to this fact I’m watching horrible movies. Truly. Not just funny bad but baaaad bad . When will it end? Why me, Lord?

Since Monday I’ve watched the following. Feel my pain.

Life After Tomorrow -
Documentary
Interviews with women who were in either the Broadway or road company of Annie. Apparently it really fucked them up.
Bonus: “Tomorrow” stuck in my head for about 8 hours.

Trembling Before G-d -
Documentary
Interviews of gay people who were brought up Hasidic Jews and either came out or live in the closet. Apparently it really fucked them up.
Bonus: The English guy was in the closet? Seriously? Wait. Hold on. For reallsies? If you say so.

Motel Niagara -
Drama
Can’t even explain it. It’s vignettes! Oy.
Bonus: Craig Ferguson is good even when he’s given about 10 minutes of screen time.

Rent -
Vomit Inducing Rock-Opera
You can’t hear me scream so I can’t explain how much I dislike this thing.
Bonus: “…for people with AIDs. People like me.” “Me too.”
“Take your AZT.”
“Your own blood cells betray…”
Wait. Does one of the characters have HIV? I’m sorry. It’s too subtle for me. Oy. I hate when I get hit over the head with a theme. Just sayin’.

Rock Bottom: Gay Men & Meth -
Documentary
Interviews of men who are current or recovering meth addicts. I’ve seen it before but I was bored so I watched it again.
Bonus: No bonus. Just sad.

The Watcher -
Thriller
Psycho killer follows psycho cop to new city in order to torture him.
Bonus: Keanu Reeves & James Spader are pretty. So pretty.

Oh, shit. Rent is on. I have to go kick the screen in.

Pictures As Promised

2008-05-05T20:47:00.001-04:00

The Cake:

The Poster:

Thanks, Elisa!

Everyone is entitled to be stupid, but some abuse the privilege. - Anon.

2008-05-05T16:10:00.003-04:00

I love random weirdness. Love. It. If you know me at all then you know this.

So, are we surprised that seeing a beat up old 80’s wreck of a car on the side of the road makes me happy? Not weird yet? OK. How about the driver standing outside of the vehicle being interrogated by a police officer? No? Did I mention the man being “interviewed” was screaming and gesticulating wildly? No, but you still aren’t impressed….Oh! I forgot to tell you! The gentleman was wearing a too small t-shirt and underpants and, no. Wait. That’s all he was wearing.

Not particularly attractive underpants.

All I heard, as I drove by, was the loon…I mean gentleman screaming “my girlfriend!”

Here’s what I think happened -

Earlier this afternoon the gentleman, surprised by the beautiful weather, was extraordinarily warm. Sadly, the AC in his trailer was on the fritz! Oh, how warm he got. Finally, cranky and itchy from the heat, he couldn’t stand it anymore! He called his girlfriend, LoRetty, to ask if he could come over to her place and enjoy her AC. Unfortunately, LoRetty didn’t answer. Remembering that she had dropped her phone at the meth lab they had visited earlier in the week and that it was probably still wonky from the chemicals he decided to drive over and see if she was home. On the way there who should he see walking down the road? LoRetty! He called out to her as he pulled over. She turned and, not recognizing him due to her poor eye sight, walked over to the car and leaned into the window to see if she could recognize him. After establishing that it was in fact her boyfriend she reminded him that he still owed her his half of the meth money from the aforementioned drug run. As he handed her the money from the glove box a police car pulled up behind them! The flashing of the lights startled poor LoRetty who scampered off, like a young gazelle, across the field and into the woods. The officer, misinterpreting the situation as those suspicious people tend to do, asked the gentleman to step out of the vehicle. At this point our unfortunate hero realized that he had been so crazy from the lack of sweet cool air that he had neglected to put on his pants!

Oh, the humanity!

Conversations With. . . . Vol. III

2008-05-04T15:25:00.002-04:00

Davey

ME: Thanks for your kind birthday wishes . . . .

DAVEY: How old are you?

ME: Rude! 33...shut it!

DAVEY: Oh my G-d! Happy birthday…I guess. You’re another year older. Congratulations.

ME: I believe the phrase you’re looking for is “happy birthday, Adrienne. Many happy returns of the day!” That’s just a guess.

DAVEY: Happy Birthday!

ME: Why, thank you…I guess. At least I look a lot younger than some people. A. Lot.

DAVEY: You look younger than who? Who’s grey? Hmmmm?

ME: Who has wrinkles? A box of hair dye or botox. That is the question!

DAVEY: Character lines, thank you!

ME: My bad.

SU-PRISE! SU-PRISE! SU-PRISE!

2008-05-04T15:21:00.002-04:00

I wish to thank all my friends who got together and gave me a surprise party. One of my dreams realized, at last! I hope a good time was had by all. I know I had a lovely time. I deeply appreciate all the trouble my friends went to. Below you will find 10 highlights.

1. Birthday presents:
A. A massage from Blonde Justice so that I could, ya’ know, move and breathe. Lord love her!
B. Dorothy Parker martini glasses from Retainer Girl. I’m using them right now. Well, one of them.
C. Last, but by no means least, a kick ass poster of all our super hero identities done by Sarah from Red Fire. (I may now have to write a comic book. As long as we can get Sarah to ink it!) It bloody rules! I’ll post a picture of it as soon as I get one.

2. Cake! Not just any cake but a cake made to look like me by Elisa. It also rocked. I didn’t like to cut it. It was a trifle weird. But I hear it was delicious! So, whatever, hack me to bits!

3. Driving up to DC listening to intentional tone deaf singing.

4. Being told “Surprise!” three times before I got that it was a surprise party. What? I’m easily confused. Don’t judge me.

5. Meeting new people - always a bit stressful but what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger and everyone was funny and lovely.

6. Mint juleps. Never again. ½ was too much but I appreciate the thought.

7. Absinthe. Hu. I hate licorice. Loathe it. Yet, for some reason, while the first taste is really quite offensive, it does have a rather compelling after taste. Would I drink tumblers full? No. A sip here and there? Bring it.

8. Giving out dollar bills and the occasional bit of change. What? Rent is expensive in DC. I’m a giver. Besides, wee Stu needs the money for dancing lessons.

9. Listening to a song about me that consisted of two words repeated over and over again. Every Mozart has to start somewhere, Emre, don't worry.

10. Hanging out with my friends, whom I adore!

Pictures to follow, I'm sure, at some point.

Love you all to bits, mean it!

Just For Your General Knowledge -

2008-05-01T18:30:00.000-04:00

The pollen is giving my sinus cavity a violent fucking...well, what with the outdoor and indoor allergens it's more like a gang bang but, still, that's violent so I stand by my statement.

Ya' know, just FYI.

On This The Anniversary Of My Birth . . . .

2008-05-01T17:37:00.003-04:00

I ask that all my friends do the following for me, as a favor.

A. Shake yo money makers.
B. Shake it like you were shakin' it fo some paper.

After all, it took yo mama nine months to make ya', so, you might as well shake what yo mama gave ya'.

Thanks in advance!

Yours in Christ,

Dark Fury

Post Script - Feel free as well to jump around. Jump around. Jump up. Jump up and get down, also.

Post Post Script - Thanks for all the fun posts about, well, me!

Effective Time Management Is Essential To Success.

2008-04-28T17:56:00.004-04:00

Journal Entry 4/28/08

Today I went to work. I sat in my office. I thought of different escape routes for different emergency situations.

There are three exits. Two of those exits can also be used as points of entry for an assailant of some kind. I am not, naturally, including the floor to ceiling windows that could be kicked out in a pinch. After all, why be silly about it?

I am confident that I can now, if push comes to shove, be out of any area of the building within four to six minutes. That depends, of course, on how many people I have to shove out of the way. Which reminds me, I need to figure out who would make the best human shield. As my mother always says, proper pre-planning prevents piss poor performance.

This whole process took up about ten minutes. Bored for the rest of the day. Conclusion? It is vital that one use ones office downtime in a productive manner.

Conversations With . . . Vol. II

2008-04-25T19:12:00.000-04:00

Davey

HIM: (yelling) Adrienne! No! Come on! You don’t believe in G-d!

ME: Yes, I do.

HIM: (Yelling) Adrienne! You believe there’s an invisible man in the sky?!

ME: Well, not a man . . . (contemplative) although I do always picture Mel Brooks dressed like a rabbi so --

HIM (cutting me off and, again, YELLING) You believe in an invisible man in the sky and you’re afraid of him!

ME: No. I’m not afr - -

HIM: (More cutting off & yet more YELLING) You’re afraid of him, just say it!

ME: (trying not to laugh so as to appear serious and not like I’m trying to get his voice to go to the next octave for my own amusement) I also believe in reincarnation.

HIM: (YELLING - loudest yet) JESUS!

Journaling Can Be Very Therapeutic

2008-04-25T19:10:00.002-04:00

Journal Entry 4/25/08

Today I went to work. I sat in my office. I thought about poking my own eye out for kicks. Ya’ know, to liven things up.

But what, I wondered, would I use? The only thing that was a remote possibility was this pen and even that’s retractable so I’m unsure how well it would work. Also, what would I then use to write in my journal? A pencil?! What am I? Six?! I think not. So, obviously, I couldn’t poke my eye out.

Bored for the rest of the day. Conclusion? It’s always something.

Conversations WIth . . . Vol. I

2008-04-25T18:49:00.005-04:00

My Mother

Note: During the following conversation my mother never looks up from the crossword she's doing.

ME: Ow! My neck frickin' hurts.

HER: You need to turn your head more.

ME: What?

HER: You're so short that you always have to look up at everything. Isn't your office chair set as high as it'll go?

ME: Yeah.

HER: And you still have to look up at your computer and, correct me if I'm wrong, you said your desk comes up to your chest.

ME: Uh hu.

HER: See? You need to turn your head from side to side during the day . . . . You're like a person in a wheelchair.

ME: (staring at her incredulously) What?

HER: They're always looking up too. I bet their necks hurt.

ME: So, what you're saying is that I'm so short that I'm disabled?

HER: Yep.

(I walk away.)

HER: (yelling after me) Or a midget! (laughs for a good five minutes)

History will be kind to me for I intend to write it. - Winston Churchill

2008-04-24T23:23:00.004-04:00

Dr. Hugh Mercer, physician, soldier & patriot, practiced medicine and operated an apothecary shop from 1771 to 1776 in Fredericksburg, Virginia. Poor Dr. Mercer met his end as the result of wounds he recieved in the Revolutionary War at the Battle of Princeton. Many historians believe that, as a result of this, the vast majority of Virginians refuse to vacation in New Jersey to this very day. Most claim that although not too many people remember Dr. Mercer, per se, everyone can remember that to go to New Jersey means you may easily die a gruesome death, without benefit of modern medicine or comfortable hotel accomodations. This 18th century building, near the original site of Dr. Mercer's actual shop, displays surgical instruments and typical pharmaceuticals of the period and was once, in the early 1990's widely known for the lively, robust performance of a much loved teenaged docent who, with her never ending supply of wit and charm, led many a sunburned and foot sore tourist to a new understanding of the wonders of the common leech.

(At Long Last) Erin's Post As Requested

2008-04-21T18:48:00.001-04:00

As you could, most likely, tell by the fact that it took me so long to do this post it’s difficult for me to write about my mother. I am very protective of her. Not that I have anything bad to say about her, you understand, but I was raised to believe that what happens in the family stays in the family. We firmly believe in omerta. The rule of silence. If something happens to one of us then it happens to all of us and we’ll take care of it. There isn’t, as far as we can see, any reason to involve outsiders.

So, obviously, to me, saying anything substantive about her seems almost like a betrayal. Even if, as is the case most of the time, it’s good. I have so many great stories and memories of and with my mother. I love her beyond anything. That being said, the woman is a nut.
She is. Don’t doubt this. I can prove it.

Have you met me? Yes? Well, we’re almost exactly alike…alright, fine, she’s taller. I said “almost”, didn’t I? People don’t believe me when I tell them this. I don’t know why. I did not spring, full grown, from the head of Zeus. Somebody made me. Well, a lot of people made me, actually, it takes a village to raise a Dark Fury. But, for the most part, it has always been just me and my mother since the beginning. Since before the beginning.

My parents broke up when my mother was pregnant with me. She was twenty-one and, even if I say it myself, I think she did a great job. Ya’ know, considering what she had to work with. And I think the thing that really amazes me is that my mother thinks I’m brave. She says it all the time. She tells me that I am braver than she is. How so? I have no idea. Well, I do know what she’s talking about, as it happens, but that’s neither here nor there. How can anything I’ve been “brave” about even compare to being a separated twenty-one year old woman with a baby on the way? It can’t. I am not brave. I just suck it up and do what needs doing. I learned that from her. She doesn’t see that. She’s blind as three bats. . . and a nut.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Next? Come on, people. Batter up!

....And The Word Was "List"....

2008-04-18T18:59:00.004-04:00

1. Your middle name? Michael Dulany

2. Your favorite color? Green

3. Your birth month? May

4. Do you think everyone should act their age? Fuck no…act older!

5. Would you rather live in a mansion or cottage? I’d rather live in a shotgun shack, seriously.

6. Is your home perfectly spotless or lived in? Are there any other options?

7. Do you love your life? Sometimes

8. Do you want kids? Yes

9. Are you in a relationship? No

10. Do you have a soul mate? Yes but, sadly, he’s a goatherd in outer Mongolia so it’s doomed. Doomed!

11. City life or country life? Either, I just hate the suburbs.

12. Sports or theater? Neither. I'll take Theatre, thank you.

13. Books or movies? What is this, Sophie’s Choice?! I can’t choose and you can’t make me!

14. Poetry or Music? Music

15. Dinners out or at home? Depends on my mood

16. Romantic is a walk in the woods or on the beach? Either or neither depending on with whom one walks.

17. Home in the Mountains or on the Beach? Beach…no! Mountains…no! Beach….oh, cripes.

18. Mornings or nights? Nights

19. Is the glass half full or half empty? Either way it’s time for a refill.

20. Coffee or tea? Tea

21. Beer or Soda? Soda

22. An energy drink or juice? Juice

23. Are you the Driver or passenger? Passenger

24. Are you the Leader or follower? I'm a very submissive person, so...yeah. I didn't buy it either.

25. Are you pessimistic or optimistic? I’m a realist…so, pessimistic, I suppose.

26. Save the Whales or Save the Rainforest? The Polar Bears

27. If given the option, would you give money or food? Food

28. Would you give someone a second chance? How badly did they fuck up and how close were we to begin with? Not so bad and/or we‘re quite close? Sure. Horrible and/or I didn‘t care about the person to begin with? Dead to me!

29. What’s the hardest thing for you to give? Cash

30. Why?
Because I don't have any? And, if I may, duh.

31. Honesty even if it hurts or a white lie to make them feel better? Depends on the situation. Bad hair cut? Honesty. Ugly baby? White lie.

32. What’s the one thing that really sets you off? Injustice and bad movies

33. Tough love or forgiveness? Both. The iron fist in a velvet glove.

34. One for all or All for one? One for all

35. What’s your top regret? I think not.

36. What’s the one thing you would change about your life? I’d be Swedish…regrets, I’ve had a few…

37. What’s the one thing you would like people to know about yourself? My name isn’t Andrea, Andra or Audrey Anne.

38. What’s one thing you would change about yourself? I’d never be early. It's annoying.

39. What do you think of the phrase "Good Intentions"? The road to hell is paved with them. Do the right thing or don't. Up to you.

40. Do you believe in love? Yes

41. Can love die? No.

42. Is love blind? No. You don’t love people despite their flaws you love them because of them. Otherwise we’d all be A) the same, B) boring and C) screwed.

43. Whats the one thing you could never forgive? Disloyalty or hurting any of my family or friends. You murdered some stranger?! I'm sure they had it comin'.

44. Do you believe in second chances? Um, didn’t we cover this or am I psychic?

What Do You Get The Girl Who Has Everything?

2008-04-18T18:14:00.004-04:00

So, I hate to say it* but it's almost my birthday. I was born in 19*mumblemumblesnortcough*, a very good year.

If anybody is wondering what to get me (presents are, of course, not necessary but always most appreciated) I direct you to my amazon.com or target.com lists. Just sayin'.

*Not really.

If It Weren't For Bad Luck . . .

2008-04-17T09:36:00.002-04:00

I'd have no luck at all. Well, fine, not exactly true. I did have a bit of luck this morning. My car died in my driveway instead of on the road. Sweet!

Oy. Well, if I had perfect luck how would I know I was Irish? Oh, wait. . . .

Ding. Dang!

Oh, well, at least I had some left over pho to eat for breakfast. See? Things are lookin' up all the time!

EDITED TO ADD: It needed a new battery. Of course! I swear my car is now, officially, brand new. Oh, wait! First I'd need to paint it but, other than that? Brand spankin' new!

Cheese. Is There Anything It Can't Do?

2008-04-16T00:10:00.001-04:00

Can the worst day be made better by cheese? Strangely enough, yes!

Where to begin? Where. To. Begin?

Well, let’s start with the fact that I was sick like a dog Sunday and Monday and go from there, shall we? Let’s! So, I was sick. I called out from work on Monday and went back today. What did I come back to? A meeting with the big boss and all the other contract workers telling us that none of us, let me say it again, none of us were sent down from the main office to go any further in the hiring process for full time positions. Basically, we were told that the main office in Richmond thinks we’re unqualified to do the work we already do. Seriously? Hu. Well, fancy that! You want to see unqualified? I can give ya’ unqualified! However, as upset as we were we weren’t as angry as our supervisor who was cursing up a storm which, it must be said, was kind of hysterical. So, we’ve all decided that until the contract is up we’re on a slow down. Also, I’m taking off for my birthday. I already made a good impression and where did it get me? Nowhere fast. The hell with them!

The day got decidedly better after work when I went to get a massage from Olivia. Yes, it hurt but in a good way (insert your own dirty joke here). Then we went over to Erin & Jonathon’s for dinner. G-d bless Mexican food and chocolate fondue! Love it! After gorging ourselves we watched “The Biggest Loser”…that’s called irony.

Now I’m not even upset about the job anymore. I’m just wondering what I’ll do next. Also, why is it that people tell me when I leave a job that it’s G-d’s way of telling me to go back to acting? If it is He’s being too subtle. I have AS! I’m a very literal person. I need a big sign! Like hitting lotto, for instance.

Ah, the hell with it! What I really want to do is find someone to split a cabin with so I can go on Elisa and Jay’s wedding cruise. My standards have lowered. I’ll even go steerage, ya’ know, the cheap(er) interior rooms. I need the ocean.

So, in conclusion, if you know of a place that’s hiring or someone I can split a cruise with let a bitch know. ‘Kay? Thanks!

EDITED TO ADD: Erin, due to the slow down, your post will be written tomorrow. You've been (kind of) patient. Well done!