For your special day, we're going to go to Penny Lane, have some booze and look for places to buy some cheap Lady Stetson. Perhaps we'll tell some Shalen & Michelle stories - dancing in DC, drinking in DC, drunk on the side of the road in DC (I was so able to get up, just didn't want to). Way too many to recount.
Love you - happy birthday!
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
There's no place like New York...
Last week, we inducted my husband and my brother's girlfriend into our yearly tradition of getting up at 5:00AM, packing various empty coolers and assorted shit into the car, and driving to the Bronx to shop for goodies for Christmas.
There were six of us this year - all packed in to a rented white minivan with a heater that brought the car from oh-my-god-i'm-going-to-throw-up cold to jesus-christ-Rob-stop-taking-off-your-clothes-we'll-turn-the-heater-down hot.
It was dark when we left the house - dark and icy cold. Kevin and I commandeered the captain's chairs as I had not yet discovered the beauty and spaciousness of the back bench.
I identified buildings in the skyline to Kevin; Amy wanted to know where the twin towers had stood; Rob drooled and petted the window when we passed Giants stadium.
Driving into the city was the easiest it has ever been. Thanks to the NYC transit strike it took us 5 minutes to get over the GW bridge (with the sunlight blinding us from the Hudson) and the Major Deegan was clear all the way to the Bronx. Amazing, really.
The Bronx was packed like usual - 3-5 cars all occupying the exact same space within .01 seconds of each other. We drove by Mrs. Genovese's stoop (all the kids were nice to her, lest they get whacked by Frankie), the Bronx Zoo, the Botanical Gardens, White Castle, Mamma's house - where my dad and aunt grew up - on E. 191st Street, and saw the new buildings at Fordham.
We even found parking in the Belmont district off of Arthur Avenue - the whole reason for our trip.
I love this place - cheeses and salamis hanging from wood beams, Italian nuts by the boxful (that would be chestnuts, by the way), ribbons of honeycomb tripe displayed in refrigerated glass bins, people speaking in Italian wherever we went. We ate combination antipast and spaghett (the vowels at the end of words are silent if you're a New York Italian) at Mario's (for you die-hard Soprano's fans, you've seen it on the show). Their clams oreganate are incredible...
While in Mario's, I watch the scar-faced, wine drinking guy behind us lean over the pink-clothed table to talk to his friend. His friend is complaining about a problem in his house. Scarface tells him to talk to Sal's "wall guy" - he can fix anything.
In that moment, it dawns on me that everyone in NY has got a "guy" or a "lady" to take care of problems. In other places of the country, I hear words like "contractor," "carpenter," "repairman," "stylist," "salesman," etc. etc. In NY, everyone knows a "guy" or a "lady" who can take care of things. Sal's got a wall guy to fix the plaster. Joey knows a loan guy who can hook you up. My dad swears by the cheese guy past Belmont street for dry mozzarella and romano. Everyone's got a guy.
We made it to Addeo & Sons, the Market and spent around $300 with the cheese guy. And we're still eating whip-cream eclairs from Egidio's. January will be filled with Slim Fast and exercise.
I love the Bronx. I love the fact that my husband experienced the sights and sounds of it. I love that my favorite Christmas song (The Waitresses' "Christmas Wrapping") was blaring through the narrow streets as we walked to the salami and pork store. I love that when we left the Bronx, we drove into Manhattan at sunset to go see the tree in Rockefeller Center. I love the Bergdorf windows and the ceiling at FAO Schwartz. I love midtown, and taking newbies to experience Times Square.
I love watching my dad drive through the city, bouncing up and down in the driver's seat wearing his Yankee's jacket and Santa hat and singing along to the radio as he cuts people off. I love that we laughed so hard we were crying (and sometimes nearly peeing).
I love the city.
There were six of us this year - all packed in to a rented white minivan with a heater that brought the car from oh-my-god-i'm-going-to-throw-up cold to jesus-christ-Rob-stop-taking-off-your-clothes-we'll-turn-the-heater-down hot.
It was dark when we left the house - dark and icy cold. Kevin and I commandeered the captain's chairs as I had not yet discovered the beauty and spaciousness of the back bench.
I identified buildings in the skyline to Kevin; Amy wanted to know where the twin towers had stood; Rob drooled and petted the window when we passed Giants stadium.
Driving into the city was the easiest it has ever been. Thanks to the NYC transit strike it took us 5 minutes to get over the GW bridge (with the sunlight blinding us from the Hudson) and the Major Deegan was clear all the way to the Bronx. Amazing, really.
The Bronx was packed like usual - 3-5 cars all occupying the exact same space within .01 seconds of each other. We drove by Mrs. Genovese's stoop (all the kids were nice to her, lest they get whacked by Frankie), the Bronx Zoo, the Botanical Gardens, White Castle, Mamma's house - where my dad and aunt grew up - on E. 191st Street, and saw the new buildings at Fordham.
We even found parking in the Belmont district off of Arthur Avenue - the whole reason for our trip.
I love this place - cheeses and salamis hanging from wood beams, Italian nuts by the boxful (that would be chestnuts, by the way), ribbons of honeycomb tripe displayed in refrigerated glass bins, people speaking in Italian wherever we went. We ate combination antipast and spaghett (the vowels at the end of words are silent if you're a New York Italian) at Mario's (for you die-hard Soprano's fans, you've seen it on the show). Their clams oreganate are incredible...
While in Mario's, I watch the scar-faced, wine drinking guy behind us lean over the pink-clothed table to talk to his friend. His friend is complaining about a problem in his house. Scarface tells him to talk to Sal's "wall guy" - he can fix anything.
In that moment, it dawns on me that everyone in NY has got a "guy" or a "lady" to take care of problems. In other places of the country, I hear words like "contractor," "carpenter," "repairman," "stylist," "salesman," etc. etc. In NY, everyone knows a "guy" or a "lady" who can take care of things. Sal's got a wall guy to fix the plaster. Joey knows a loan guy who can hook you up. My dad swears by the cheese guy past Belmont street for dry mozzarella and romano. Everyone's got a guy.
We made it to Addeo & Sons, the Market and spent around $300 with the cheese guy. And we're still eating whip-cream eclairs from Egidio's. January will be filled with Slim Fast and exercise.
I love the Bronx. I love the fact that my husband experienced the sights and sounds of it. I love that my favorite Christmas song (The Waitresses' "Christmas Wrapping") was blaring through the narrow streets as we walked to the salami and pork store. I love that when we left the Bronx, we drove into Manhattan at sunset to go see the tree in Rockefeller Center. I love the Bergdorf windows and the ceiling at FAO Schwartz. I love midtown, and taking newbies to experience Times Square.
I love watching my dad drive through the city, bouncing up and down in the driver's seat wearing his Yankee's jacket and Santa hat and singing along to the radio as he cuts people off. I love that we laughed so hard we were crying (and sometimes nearly peeing).
I love the city.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Getting Wicked at The Kennedy Center
Last night was opening night for "Wicked" at The Kennedy Center in Washington, DC. I now remember why I want to leave Arizona and move back to the east coast. Theatre is an event, not somewhere to wear your shredded jeans and scrappy band shirt.
So - we got all pretty and met good friends to start our evening at Asia Nora. The food was delish-tastic as was the modern asian atmosphere.
To avoid sounding like a gushing child, I will not describe our experience at The Kennedy Center.
Wicked. is. the. best. show. I've. ever. seen. Ever.
The costumes were brilliant, the set - innovative and interesting. The leads had voices that intermittently stopped me from breathing because I was afraid to miss a note. The ending was the only slight disappointment, but I won't reveal.
Big standing ovation.
So - we got all pretty and met good friends to start our evening at Asia Nora. The food was delish-tastic as was the modern asian atmosphere.
To avoid sounding like a gushing child, I will not describe our experience at The Kennedy Center.
Wicked. is. the. best. show. I've. ever. seen. Ever.
The costumes were brilliant, the set - innovative and interesting. The leads had voices that intermittently stopped me from breathing because I was afraid to miss a note. The ending was the only slight disappointment, but I won't reveal.
Big standing ovation.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Baby, it's cold outside
I realize that cold weather isn't a novelty to most. However, to me - the Phoenix girl - cold weather is a bit of a phenomenon.
I love blowing fake smoke into the air, jumping onto the cold crunching ice, and wearing scarves of every color and texture.
And, I love Washington and Virginia in winter!
I love blowing fake smoke into the air, jumping onto the cold crunching ice, and wearing scarves of every color and texture.
And, I love Washington and Virginia in winter!
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
tuesday wednesday thursday friday
Ok, show of hands, who is actually working right now? Well, if you are reading this, you aren't working so put your goddamn hand down.
As you can see, Roxy isn't working either. She's making her naughty list so she can give nice presents, dreaming of a white Christmas, looking forward to seeing the giant Yule log in Washington DC, and remembering that despite her tribulations (and her bad mood as of late), she's an incredibly lucky girl.
Roxy's wish for you is to be surrounded by wonderful things this season, and year round. Roxy also hopes that no matter what (or if) you celebrate, that you remember there are always people in desperate need (no matter what time of year) and that you give what you can to others.
As you can see, Roxy isn't working either. She's making her naughty list so she can give nice presents, dreaming of a white Christmas, looking forward to seeing the giant Yule log in Washington DC, and remembering that despite her tribulations (and her bad mood as of late), she's an incredibly lucky girl.
Roxy's wish for you is to be surrounded by wonderful things this season, and year round. Roxy also hopes that no matter what (or if) you celebrate, that you remember there are always people in desperate need (no matter what time of year) and that you give what you can to others.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Darkness Falls
"It's a shaky foundation that this house of cards is built upon," she said.
I stop, midsentence.
Why do I suddenly feel uprooted? Dark thoughts escape from their respective cupboards in my brain. My footing hasn't been so solid as of late.
For the rest of the night, my stomach is churning. I'm sticky inside - sticky and angry. My heart is raging as if I'm on the verge of something terrible. Spontaneous combustion? A frenzied fit? Meltdown? I'm not sure.
I'm angry lately - at the world, at myself - so much so I scare my reflection. I can't pinpoint the reason. I feel unsettled - like I left my life in progress. Segmented pieces, unfinished ends. And I want to go back to finish them. Does my anger come from holding on?
I've always been one to hold on too long. I grasp a split moment to my breast and squeeze and stretch it for as long as possible. I stuff it into my heart, obsess over it, memorize it's associated smells and sidelong glances. When I was little, I would write in my diary about people I hadn't seen for years. I'd wonder about them. I sometimes still do.
I want to peek at lives that have gone on without me.
Really, I should practice the ebb and flow of letting go.
I stop, midsentence.
Why do I suddenly feel uprooted? Dark thoughts escape from their respective cupboards in my brain. My footing hasn't been so solid as of late.
For the rest of the night, my stomach is churning. I'm sticky inside - sticky and angry. My heart is raging as if I'm on the verge of something terrible. Spontaneous combustion? A frenzied fit? Meltdown? I'm not sure.
I'm angry lately - at the world, at myself - so much so I scare my reflection. I can't pinpoint the reason. I feel unsettled - like I left my life in progress. Segmented pieces, unfinished ends. And I want to go back to finish them. Does my anger come from holding on?
I've always been one to hold on too long. I grasp a split moment to my breast and squeeze and stretch it for as long as possible. I stuff it into my heart, obsess over it, memorize it's associated smells and sidelong glances. When I was little, I would write in my diary about people I hadn't seen for years. I'd wonder about them. I sometimes still do.
I want to peek at lives that have gone on without me.
Really, I should practice the ebb and flow of letting go.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Rocking out to Europe
Well, not really. But I am sitting at my desk figuring "The Final Countdown" to my vacation. Not including today - 6 business days 'til freedom.
For 17 days, 6:00AM will not exist. I will not commute with idiots who were licensed through Mr. Toad's Wild Ride Driving Skool. I will not feign perkiness.
I will however celebrate with the people who mean the most to me and drink wine by the fire. And I will smile a LOT!
For 17 days, 6:00AM will not exist. I will not commute with idiots who were licensed through Mr. Toad's Wild Ride Driving Skool. I will not feign perkiness.
I will however celebrate with the people who mean the most to me and drink wine by the fire. And I will smile a LOT!
Thursday, December 01, 2005
New tunes, new books...Check out the Sidebar!
Monday, November 28, 2005
Viva Las Vegas!
Dahlings,
We've returned. Vegas at Thanksgiving is a pornucopia of good things!
From the sweet Aladdin suite where we stayed to the bangin' bridal boudoir overlooking Bellagio's fountains...
To the lazy susan with the Pope's Bust at Buca di Beppo. I missed taking the pic of the naked fat man on a tortoise over the urinal - yes, I went into the men's room - but I found a comparable pic online.
We so needed a few days in the city of sin.
Let's do a count:
References to porn on Thanksgiving - 149
Pictures with husband that we took ourselves - 15
here's one
Martini's - 10
Mimosa's and assorted champagne drinks - 3
Jemmy pours the champers
Carbombs - 1
i took this shot while hanging over the balcony at NY, NY - right after the resulting sickness from the martini's and carbomb happened...
Hangovers - 0
Fabulous time had by all...
Wish you were there,
Roxy
We've returned. Vegas at Thanksgiving is a pornucopia of good things!
From the sweet Aladdin suite where we stayed to the bangin' bridal boudoir overlooking Bellagio's fountains...
To the lazy susan with the Pope's Bust at Buca di Beppo. I missed taking the pic of the naked fat man on a tortoise over the urinal - yes, I went into the men's room - but I found a comparable pic online.
We so needed a few days in the city of sin.
Let's do a count:
References to porn on Thanksgiving - 149
Pictures with husband that we took ourselves - 15
Martini's - 10
Mimosa's and assorted champagne drinks - 3
Carbombs - 1
Hangovers - 0
Fabulous time had by all...
Wish you were there,
Roxy
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Family, friends, yadda yadda yadda...
In the grand tradition of Death to All Turkeys Day, I've compiled a list of things I'm thankful for:
* I've had yet another jail-free year.
* Kahlua, Bailey's, Brandy and Milk - all mixed together.
* My panties didn't fall down during a client meeting.
* Margaritas at Via de los Santos (also thankful that I didn't miss the bowl while puking up said margaritas from Via de los Santos).
* That on Thanksgiving, we'll be at Tangerine or Fortydeuce.
* Birth control pills
* Matthew McConaughey
* Sarcasm
* Elvis - the dog, and the King
* The fact that when you type the word "Failure" into Google and hit "I'm Feeling Lucky" this site comes up.
* Our trip to Washington DC, Virginia and New York for Christmas!
* Family, friends, fa-la-la-la-la, fiestas, laughter, love, lights, and pass the pie please I'm goin' in for another piece.
* I've had yet another jail-free year.
* Kahlua, Bailey's, Brandy and Milk - all mixed together.
* My panties didn't fall down during a client meeting.
* Margaritas at Via de los Santos (also thankful that I didn't miss the bowl while puking up said margaritas from Via de los Santos).
* That on Thanksgiving, we'll be at Tangerine or Fortydeuce.
* Birth control pills
* Matthew McConaughey
* Sarcasm
* Elvis - the dog, and the King
* The fact that when you type the word "Failure" into Google and hit "I'm Feeling Lucky" this site comes up.
* Our trip to Washington DC, Virginia and New York for Christmas!
* Family, friends, fa-la-la-la-la, fiestas, laughter, love, lights, and pass the pie please I'm goin' in for another piece.
Sunday, November 20, 2005
A year ago today...
I was sitting in a chair while my friend Sandra tried to cover my tattoo so it wouldn't show as I walked down the aisle.
This morning, I'm marveling that it has been a year since I married my giving husband. It feels like ten.
Before I robbed the cradle and stumbled into marriage, I thought I knew myself. Strong, independent, going to conquer the world, travel anywhere, do anything. Kevin used to joke that I was the "man" in the relationship because I couldn't be bothered with too much sweetness or sentimentality. He also thinks I'm insane , a martini whore and a wild child - but secretly, that's why he loves me.
This man, my husband of one year, has reduced me to a simpering idiot. He is so wonderful to me that I've become a complete girl.
God, he is such a sap.
And I just couldn't be happier.
This morning, I'm marveling that it has been a year since I married my giving husband. It feels like ten.
Before I robbed the cradle and stumbled into marriage, I thought I knew myself. Strong, independent, going to conquer the world, travel anywhere, do anything. Kevin used to joke that I was the "man" in the relationship because I couldn't be bothered with too much sweetness or sentimentality. He also thinks I'm insane , a martini whore and a wild child - but secretly, that's why he loves me.
This man, my husband of one year, has reduced me to a simpering idiot. He is so wonderful to me that I've become a complete girl.
God, he is such a sap.
And I just couldn't be happier.
Friday, November 18, 2005
Me and my fucking big mouth...
Oh Styro, you are an awesome internet goddess... (holding you from afar, telling you that if you ever grow up and stop being an Internet nerd that people from around the world will shed tears of grief and pull out their hair as they throw down magnum's of tequila and snort lines to blow their minds because there would be no more Styro and then we'd have to have a collective suicide pact and it would take too long to organize and when we finally succeeded it would just be a big ol' mess and someone would have to clean up that shit and do you really want that on your conscience? I didn't think so.)
Tasty pint on me? Penny Lane? December?
Tasty pint on me? Penny Lane? December?
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Just a quick note
To the self-serving sycophant sitting in the front row of my Management Information Systems class,
Shut. Up.
How did you get into an MBA program when you don't know how to take visual clues from the professor? When he says, "good point" and moves away, he is done listening to you.
Another thing, please stop waving your arm. The professor doesn't meet your gaze for a reason. He GETS PAID to talk about Information Technology. You do not.
Furthermore, no one in the class is impressed with your knowledge of acronyms and how you not-so-suavely insert them into your babblings. GUI isn't a cutting edge term - we all know what it means and how to pronounce it.
So please, for the next 7 weeks, spare us your simple-minded stories, irrelevant insights and jokes about people who use Linux client servers. If you don't, I may have to initiate a "systems crash" on your ass.
Thank you ever so much,
Roxy
Shut. Up.
How did you get into an MBA program when you don't know how to take visual clues from the professor? When he says, "good point" and moves away, he is done listening to you.
Another thing, please stop waving your arm. The professor doesn't meet your gaze for a reason. He GETS PAID to talk about Information Technology. You do not.
Furthermore, no one in the class is impressed with your knowledge of acronyms and how you not-so-suavely insert them into your babblings. GUI isn't a cutting edge term - we all know what it means and how to pronounce it.
So please, for the next 7 weeks, spare us your simple-minded stories, irrelevant insights and jokes about people who use Linux client servers. If you don't, I may have to initiate a "systems crash" on your ass.
Thank you ever so much,
Roxy
Thursday, November 03, 2005
I lie...
I'm posting about something non-novel related.
I just got a call from someone who is putting together a statewide conference for DECA instructors and administrators. She saw me speak to FBLA students recently and wants to book me for her conference later this month.
Really, I just can't believe that someone would want me to speak in front of their organization. Are they crazy? The obviously don't know me.
Still, I'm thrilled.
I always knew my big mouth would be an asset someday...
I just got a call from someone who is putting together a statewide conference for DECA instructors and administrators. She saw me speak to FBLA students recently and wants to book me for her conference later this month.
Really, I just can't believe that someone would want me to speak in front of their organization. Are they crazy? The obviously don't know me.
Still, I'm thrilled.
I always knew my big mouth would be an asset someday...
A comment...
to all 4 of my faithful readers.
I apologize, but I will not be blogging much about anything that doesn't have to do with National Novel Writing Month in the coming weeks. Starting the "novel" writing has consumed my every waking moment, and even some sleeping ones, and unless someone at my work does something really stupid - or George Bush really pisses me off - I probably will be focusing on novel related posts and such.
Never fear, however. Should something of mass importance happen (like I lose my job for writing my novel during business hours) I will be here to vent on my blog.
In the meantime, please feel free to check my work in progress. And yes, I do realize that Chapter 2 is a little trite, a tad bit silly and more girly than I really wanted it. Other comments welcome...
I apologize, but I will not be blogging much about anything that doesn't have to do with National Novel Writing Month in the coming weeks. Starting the "novel" writing has consumed my every waking moment, and even some sleeping ones, and unless someone at my work does something really stupid - or George Bush really pisses me off - I probably will be focusing on novel related posts and such.
Never fear, however. Should something of mass importance happen (like I lose my job for writing my novel during business hours) I will be here to vent on my blog.
In the meantime, please feel free to check my work in progress. And yes, I do realize that Chapter 2 is a little trite, a tad bit silly and more girly than I really wanted it. Other comments welcome...
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
I can't believe I'm doing this...
but I'm going to post my novel as I write it.
Please keep in mind the following three things:
1. This novel is a first draft.
2. I have no idea what this novel will be about and just came up with the name for the main character about 15 minutes ago.
3. I will not spend time editing my work at this time in the novel writing process.
Those three things being said, feel free to check out my novel progress here.
Also, please feel free to comment constructively. You are allowed to hate it, think it's trite or to not even consider my work, but if you negatively trash my writing or tell me that my plot sucks I will be forced to curse you. Don't make me curse you...
Please keep in mind the following three things:
1. This novel is a first draft.
2. I have no idea what this novel will be about and just came up with the name for the main character about 15 minutes ago.
3. I will not spend time editing my work at this time in the novel writing process.
Those three things being said, feel free to check out my novel progress here.
Also, please feel free to comment constructively. You are allowed to hate it, think it's trite or to not even consider my work, but if you negatively trash my writing or tell me that my plot sucks I will be forced to curse you. Don't make me curse you...
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Saturday, October 29, 2005
Flash Fiction Friday
It was just a bad feeling she had deep inside - in the space where dark wishes gather and separate. Charlie had been gone ten weeks as of yesterday. Ten weeks. She marked the days in her mind, carefully drawing a line through each day on her imaginary calendar. One slash per day.
This time, he was gone for good. No wisp of hope or outside force could change that simple fact.
She was glad there would be no goodbye. His gray eyes wouldn't bore into her like cool, collected steel. He wouldn't read her thoughts or try to reassure her. His words wouldn't be her Jesus. She couldn't be saved with simple gospel and blind acceptance.
She wondered what he would have said...if he could have said anything. She used to define herself by what he said. She reached for his words, swallowed them warm and easy like liquid chocolate on a November night. In the past, she always did what he said. She always took the pills.
He always called her by name to get her attention - never used nicknames. He never apologized for interrupting or explained why he was there. Sometimes, he'd feed her sweet senitments before condemning her. She had to listen, frozen in front of the mirror. He locked her gaze - he had control.
At one point, she considered leaving so he could carry on without her. His life would have been easier. But she was stronger than that. She threw out the pills that made him the dominant one.
Rosanna laughed to herself. She had the control now. Now when she looked in the mirror, she saw herself - not him. He's been gone for ten weeks now. Ten weeks. She knew because she had her imaginary calendar and carefully marked a line through each day.
He's gone for good. He was just a bad feeling she had deep inside - in the space where dark wishes gather and separate.
This time, he was gone for good. No wisp of hope or outside force could change that simple fact.
She was glad there would be no goodbye. His gray eyes wouldn't bore into her like cool, collected steel. He wouldn't read her thoughts or try to reassure her. His words wouldn't be her Jesus. She couldn't be saved with simple gospel and blind acceptance.
She wondered what he would have said...if he could have said anything. She used to define herself by what he said. She reached for his words, swallowed them warm and easy like liquid chocolate on a November night. In the past, she always did what he said. She always took the pills.
He always called her by name to get her attention - never used nicknames. He never apologized for interrupting or explained why he was there. Sometimes, he'd feed her sweet senitments before condemning her. She had to listen, frozen in front of the mirror. He locked her gaze - he had control.
At one point, she considered leaving so he could carry on without her. His life would have been easier. But she was stronger than that. She threw out the pills that made him the dominant one.
Rosanna laughed to herself. She had the control now. Now when she looked in the mirror, she saw herself - not him. He's been gone for ten weeks now. Ten weeks. She knew because she had her imaginary calendar and carefully marked a line through each day.
He's gone for good. He was just a bad feeling she had deep inside - in the space where dark wishes gather and separate.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Again, from Stat Counter
I posted here about how people arrive at my blog through search engines.
Here are the latest and greatest searches that landed surfers at Roxy's World:
This person was looking for drugs, and got me instead. Notice the spelling of said drug...
Apparently images of twitchy eyelids are all the rage as there were three people who searched this and arrived at my site.
Again with the drugs.
I don't even want to typethis one out. You have to click it. Preferably not at work.
Here are the latest and greatest searches that landed surfers at Roxy's World:
This person was looking for drugs, and got me instead. Notice the spelling of said drug...
Apparently images of twitchy eyelids are all the rage as there were three people who searched this and arrived at my site.
Again with the drugs.
I don't even want to typethis one out. You have to click it. Preferably not at work.
Monday, October 24, 2005
A little story for Ginger's "16th" Birthday
Ginger and I used to go out and tear up the streets of Richmond quite a bit in the old days (read: two years ago). We've met some interesting people while endeavoring to remain upright after drinking heavily. Two we reminisce about occasionally are Dude & Ek.
We met the happy couple out at a David Carter shin-dig one night. As usual, we were toasted. Ok, we were smashed. Tell the truth? We were blitzed from smoking in the bathroom and drinking red-headed slut shots like they were cups of kiddie kool-aid.
Dude Williams was definitely a man's man. He was older - not quite crusty - but defintely browning around the edges. His lover, Ek, was a series of B's: bug-eyed, blond and busty. I can guarantee you that Dude & Ek weren't christened with those bar monikers. To this day, I couldn't tell you their given names. But I can tell you that they could party.
Shot after shot. Drink after drink. Slur after tasteless slur. Dude and Ek were like senior citizens on a day pass from the crazy farm. At one point, when Dude put his hand in Ek's shirt, I almost passed out from shock. Actually, I probably almost passed out from alcohol poisoning, but let's not get into that.
Our experiences with Dude & Ek culminated in a parking lot dance party after we closed down the bar. We set the CD to repeat The Gourds "hick-hop" cover of "Gin N Juice" and we turned the volume all the way up, flung open the doors and got our dance on. Dude & Ek broke it down, twirling around the parking lot, Dude trying to cop a feel on all three of his hoes at the same time. After three-plus repitions, we said our goodbyes to Dude & Ek crawled back into the car to pass out for a while before continuing on to yet another party.
Someday I'll write about Ray Rice - who Ginger and I met on a South Carolina beach. He had knocked up his girlfriend and told us it was his sister. Or maybe I'll skip that story and write about "The Longest Day Ever" which included chunky grass brownies, a Redskins game, Jerold the man/woman drug-dealer who was confined to his house by his police-monitored anklet and two trips around the Beltway that culminated in Ginger peeing down her leg in my mom's kitchen. Ahh, good times.
Happy Birthday, Ginger...
We met the happy couple out at a David Carter shin-dig one night. As usual, we were toasted. Ok, we were smashed. Tell the truth? We were blitzed from smoking in the bathroom and drinking red-headed slut shots like they were cups of kiddie kool-aid.
Dude Williams was definitely a man's man. He was older - not quite crusty - but defintely browning around the edges. His lover, Ek, was a series of B's: bug-eyed, blond and busty. I can guarantee you that Dude & Ek weren't christened with those bar monikers. To this day, I couldn't tell you their given names. But I can tell you that they could party.
Shot after shot. Drink after drink. Slur after tasteless slur. Dude and Ek were like senior citizens on a day pass from the crazy farm. At one point, when Dude put his hand in Ek's shirt, I almost passed out from shock. Actually, I probably almost passed out from alcohol poisoning, but let's not get into that.
Our experiences with Dude & Ek culminated in a parking lot dance party after we closed down the bar. We set the CD to repeat The Gourds "hick-hop" cover of "Gin N Juice" and we turned the volume all the way up, flung open the doors and got our dance on. Dude & Ek broke it down, twirling around the parking lot, Dude trying to cop a feel on all three of his hoes at the same time. After three-plus repitions, we said our goodbyes to Dude & Ek crawled back into the car to pass out for a while before continuing on to yet another party.
Someday I'll write about Ray Rice - who Ginger and I met on a South Carolina beach. He had knocked up his girlfriend and told us it was his sister. Or maybe I'll skip that story and write about "The Longest Day Ever" which included chunky grass brownies, a Redskins game, Jerold the man/woman drug-dealer who was confined to his house by his police-monitored anklet and two trips around the Beltway that culminated in Ginger peeing down her leg in my mom's kitchen. Ahh, good times.
Happy Birthday, Ginger...
Thursday, October 20, 2005
From the awesome people at the Human Rights Campaign
It's easy to be angry when...
...the Vatican instructs Catholic Seminaries to look for "evidence of homosexuality" in seminarians and priests.
...pastors in West Virginia and Massachusetts are ousted by their churches for supporting GLBT rights.
...a child is expelled from a Christian school because her parents are lesbians.
The truth is, religious fundamentalists are controlling the conversation about values in America. And right now, it is only getting worse.
The Human Rights Campaign is done with being angry about the hateful actions of so-called religious leaders. And we're done with letting them do all the talking. We're launching an unprecedented campaign to "change the conversation" with our new Religion and Faith Program. Will you help? Click here to make a contribution to take the program from a plan to reality.
The Religion and Faith Program is best described by a conversation I had earlier this year, when I began crossing the country to talk about equality. When I spoke with a legislator from a heartland state about marriage between same-sex couples, he said, "Joe, I am ready to help you. But you and I will get nowhere if we can't start really talking to the people in my state, and talking to them in the language of values and faith. Until you can do that, we won't make a difference."
When I returned to DC, we got back to work. It wasn't easy - but we were determined to start changing the conversation. You see, for many of us at HRC, religion has not been a source of solace but, rather, a place of rejection and anger. But we've had to put those powerful emotions aside in order to work with courageous, fair-minded faith leaders from all walks of life to put together a plan for this program. Every day the need for this work becomes clearer. And here's what we're doing, with your help:
Finding and promoting the many equality-minded faith leaders like Bishop Gene Robinson of New Hampshire, Dr. Susan Thistlethwaite of Chicago, Bishop John Selders of Hartford, CT, and Rabbi Denise Eger of Los Angeles. It's time we heard their courageous voices in the media to counteract the closed-minded sound bites of extremists like Pat Robertson, James Dobson, and Fred Phelps.
Creating preaching guides and resources about how to talk about GLBT equality with congregations, and then putting them in the hands of pastors, priests and rabbis who are hungry for this help. They WILL preach fairness if they have our help.
Under the leadership of our new Religion & Faith Program Director Harry Knox, we are working closely with individuals and groups who attend temples, churches, and mosques across the country, people who are changing their religions from within. They need our materials, our strength, our support. They need to know that HRC members are standing with them.
This program is the most important campaign that HRC has launched in a long time - and we're doing it on top of our other critical work. Please help us hit the ground running with the full force of HRC's membership - make a contribution today.
I am personally so excited about "changing the conversation." I hope that you are, too. I believe this is the right strategy to fling open the doors of our nation's churches, synagogues and mosques, and to open minds and hearts as well. Thank you in advance for your support, once again.
Warmly,
Joe Solmonese, HRC President
P.S. Do you have a story to share about your religious community? Or perhaps you know of a faith group that is courageously standing up to religious leaders. Let us know. Click here.
...the Vatican instructs Catholic Seminaries to look for "evidence of homosexuality" in seminarians and priests.
...pastors in West Virginia and Massachusetts are ousted by their churches for supporting GLBT rights.
...a child is expelled from a Christian school because her parents are lesbians.
The truth is, religious fundamentalists are controlling the conversation about values in America. And right now, it is only getting worse.
The Human Rights Campaign is done with being angry about the hateful actions of so-called religious leaders. And we're done with letting them do all the talking. We're launching an unprecedented campaign to "change the conversation" with our new Religion and Faith Program. Will you help? Click here to make a contribution to take the program from a plan to reality.
The Religion and Faith Program is best described by a conversation I had earlier this year, when I began crossing the country to talk about equality. When I spoke with a legislator from a heartland state about marriage between same-sex couples, he said, "Joe, I am ready to help you. But you and I will get nowhere if we can't start really talking to the people in my state, and talking to them in the language of values and faith. Until you can do that, we won't make a difference."
When I returned to DC, we got back to work. It wasn't easy - but we were determined to start changing the conversation. You see, for many of us at HRC, religion has not been a source of solace but, rather, a place of rejection and anger. But we've had to put those powerful emotions aside in order to work with courageous, fair-minded faith leaders from all walks of life to put together a plan for this program. Every day the need for this work becomes clearer. And here's what we're doing, with your help:
Finding and promoting the many equality-minded faith leaders like Bishop Gene Robinson of New Hampshire, Dr. Susan Thistlethwaite of Chicago, Bishop John Selders of Hartford, CT, and Rabbi Denise Eger of Los Angeles. It's time we heard their courageous voices in the media to counteract the closed-minded sound bites of extremists like Pat Robertson, James Dobson, and Fred Phelps.
Creating preaching guides and resources about how to talk about GLBT equality with congregations, and then putting them in the hands of pastors, priests and rabbis who are hungry for this help. They WILL preach fairness if they have our help.
Under the leadership of our new Religion & Faith Program Director Harry Knox, we are working closely with individuals and groups who attend temples, churches, and mosques across the country, people who are changing their religions from within. They need our materials, our strength, our support. They need to know that HRC members are standing with them.
This program is the most important campaign that HRC has launched in a long time - and we're doing it on top of our other critical work. Please help us hit the ground running with the full force of HRC's membership - make a contribution today.
I am personally so excited about "changing the conversation." I hope that you are, too. I believe this is the right strategy to fling open the doors of our nation's churches, synagogues and mosques, and to open minds and hearts as well. Thank you in advance for your support, once again.
Warmly,
Joe Solmonese, HRC President
P.S. Do you have a story to share about your religious community? Or perhaps you know of a faith group that is courageously standing up to religious leaders. Let us know. Click here.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Interesting factoids
According to my "Stat Link" for my weblog, some people have been arriving at my blogspot through interesting search queries.
The most interesting one? If you search for "naked mexican" in MSN search, my blog is the third on the list.
If that doesn't float your fancy, try this search. I'm website number 4 on page 14.
The most interesting one? If you search for "naked mexican" in MSN search, my blog is the third on the list.
If that doesn't float your fancy, try this search. I'm website number 4 on page 14.
Things I miss about Richmond
Pizza from Bottoms Up.
Cary Town Watermelon Festival.
Cary Town - period.
James River.
Baker's Crust breakfast on Sunday morning.
Hollywood Cemetery.
Lane Sanson.
Sharky's.
Irish carbomb shots.
David Carter (dot-com).
Magnolia Trees.
Art.
Parties at Susan's.
Molly's screened in porch.
Tailgating the Strawberry Hill races.
Drag brunch.
The Aquarian on Ellwood.
Millie's.
Antiques.
Sales at High Cotton.
Saxon Shoes.
Snow in open fields in winter.
Tree frogs in summer.
Monument Avenue in fall.
Anywhere in Spring.
Texaco happy hour.
Shockhoe Espresso - late at night in winter.
Penny Lane Pub.
Lee - the fantastic, gorgeous hairdresser/rock band leader.
The ability to drive to the beach for dinner on a "school night."
My friends & my brother.
Cary Town Watermelon Festival.
Cary Town - period.
James River.
Baker's Crust breakfast on Sunday morning.
Hollywood Cemetery.
Lane Sanson.
Sharky's.
Irish carbomb shots.
David Carter (dot-com).
Magnolia Trees.
Art.
Parties at Susan's.
Molly's screened in porch.
Tailgating the Strawberry Hill races.
Drag brunch.
The Aquarian on Ellwood.
Millie's.
Antiques.
Sales at High Cotton.
Saxon Shoes.
Snow in open fields in winter.
Tree frogs in summer.
Monument Avenue in fall.
Anywhere in Spring.
Texaco happy hour.
Shockhoe Espresso - late at night in winter.
Penny Lane Pub.
Lee - the fantastic, gorgeous hairdresser/rock band leader.
The ability to drive to the beach for dinner on a "school night."
My friends & my brother.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Waiting for more...
It rained last night. Not the slow trickling drizzle of laziness, but more the cathartic pour to cleanse the streets and make the desert smell damp.
This morning - small puddles washed in October light.
Humid air blows around corners, seeking upturned faces. There is fog on the mountain. It isn't cold, just delicious.
The slant of sunrays are different - silver and timid instead of their usual bold, blazing gold.
We're waiting, checking the windows, measuring the distance of the clouds.
It's 8:50, no rain. 8:55, none. 8:57, a cloud moves over the sun. 9:00. Still no rain. 9:00-11:00 meeting in room without a window. Kills me to not know.
11:04 - Glorious rain confirmed!
This morning - small puddles washed in October light.
Humid air blows around corners, seeking upturned faces. There is fog on the mountain. It isn't cold, just delicious.
The slant of sunrays are different - silver and timid instead of their usual bold, blazing gold.
We're waiting, checking the windows, measuring the distance of the clouds.
It's 8:50, no rain. 8:55, none. 8:57, a cloud moves over the sun. 9:00. Still no rain. 9:00-11:00 meeting in room without a window. Kills me to not know.
11:04 - Glorious rain confirmed!
Monday, October 17, 2005
Near and Dear
updated at end
Today I write about something near and dear to me - kids. Even more specifically, teenage kids. More specific? Kids who attend Premier/John Glenn Charter school at 75th Avenue & Indian School in Phoenix, Arizona.
These kids are getting completely fucked over by several entities. One is the Arizona State Board of Education. Another? The school's administrators.
I taught at this school for two years. I met my husband there. I met some fantastic kids. I worked for idiots.
My husband came home from work today to tell me about a situation at the school. There was a fight - between a group of "hispanic" girls and a group of "black" girls. I know some of the girls in both groups - and I like the girls that I know in both groups. They are basically very good kids who are trying to survive a really rough time in their lives.
These "groups" exchanged words today. There was a huge fight. The girls called each other every name in the book - some that make me blush (and those of you who read this blog know that is tough to do). One of the end results? After the fight, one of the girls, who is four months pregnant, ends up laying down on a table to calm herself down because her stomach is in pain. My husband kept guard in the room (after chasing around to break up the fight, going to the bus stop by the school to stop another fight, and then keeping the girl away from the principal who was SCREAMING at her). The girl is getting increasingly more uncomfortable and asks for her parents to be called. She then says that she feels the need to go to the hospital. At this point, she is writhing in pain.
My husband calls 911. He tells the 911 EMT's that there was a fight at the school and the girl is pregnant and having a hard time. He then alerts his administrators who are in their office EATING CHIPS AND DISCUSSING WHO IS AT FAULT, not helping out in the main body of the school. He asks that the girl's parents be called.
The EMT's arrive. They assess that the girl is bleeding. My husband is out of the room now and asking the other teachers to not let their students out of the classroom. The VP of Discipline tells my husband that his idea is a good one - that the other kids shouldn't be gaping at what is happening to the girl who may lose her baby.
For the rest of the day, the racial slurs are in full effect. The black students, white students, and the hispanic students, are all taking sides. My husband hears the ugliest of terms - "nigger" and "spic" - in between words that indicate that there will be guns and knives and big fights tomorrow.
The administrators finally make an appearance when the authorities show up. The EMT's had reported the fight to the police. The police are taking a report. The administrators are pissed off at my husband because they would have NEVER filed any report whatsoever. The same as when they didn't file a report last year when a kid brought a gun to school. The same as when they didn't file a report when they caught a girl dealing cocaine in the bathroom.
There are many other ins and outs to this story that I'm going to leave out because I'm flaming mad and trying to figure out what to do about this for the sake of these kids. I reported things to the state after I left the school last year. This year, the school is under watch by the state for other reasons - mainly because the kids aren't meeting the minimum test scores.
John Glenn Academy/Premier High School just got at $10M bond for furtherance of education facilities. These idiots who DO NOT EVEN HAVE POLICIES & PROCEDURES IN PLACE FOR TEACHERS AND STAFF for emergency events (actually, there are NO policies and procedures in place whatsoever), just received $10 MILLION DOLLARS. Read that again people - $10 MILLION DOLLARS.
There is no leadership in place in this institution. There are no guidelines. There is no attempt at diversity education whatsoever. In the 2004-2005 school year, I taught from August until April and NOT ONE Administrator ever stepped into my classroom to see what I was teaching the kids. NOT ONE. There is no discipline policy that is enforced. There is no sense of community with the kids. There is no leadership involvement with the kids. The teachers are blamed for everything that is wrong - even though they are the ones who discipline, direct and console those kids on a daily basis. There is no one at the top taking any responsibility for what is happening. And while all the racial groups screw up royally, most of the time only the hispanic or white kids get suspended.
I could begin to rant even more. I could go into countless examples of what happened while I was teaching there. Let me focus on today.
My husband went to the girls' volleyball game this evening after school. Some of the girls were involved in the riot at school today. The school's administrators dropped the girls off at the game. My husband and the coach ended up bringing the girls home because the administrators never came back.
The clincher? My husband called the Vice Principal this evening to ask if there was going to be extra security on campus tomorrow. This VP is a good man - nice guy, I have respect for him. However, he told my husband that tomorrow the administration was going to have a talk with him about his actions. I stood there as my husband was on the phone. The VP asked my husband why the police showed up. My husband reiterated that he told the EMT's that the pregnant student was hurt and they asked how she got hurt. He told the EMT's that there was a fight but he didn't know the details. The EMT's made the call to the police, not my husband.
And now they are going to take disciplinary action agains my husband? I DON'T THINK SO.
My husband and I were both in tears tonight thinking of the student who was suffering and bleeding on that classroom table. He did what was in the best interest of the child. Anyone who wouldn't do as such is inhumane and should be removed from contact with children IMMEDIATELY.
Suggestions on course of action (for the kids, not my husband - we are more worried about the kids than the state of hubby's job) are completely welcome. I've already started my letter to the Charter School Board, my congressmen and Tom Horne at the AZ Department of Education.
The pregnant young student is ok - well, somewhat ok. She did not lose the baby and is at home for a few days to recover from her stress. The administration has suspended her for 10 days.
My husband was observed today and told that his lesson was worthless. It covered AZ state standards and used teaching strategies from the book that the administration has been using to "improve" teaching methodology. All of his reviews - from the State of Arizona representative who gives reviews monthly - have been exceptional to date. All of a sudden, his review is horrible.
Draw your own conclusions.
Most importantly - the students are okay for now. And information is being sent to the appropriate authorities.
Today I write about something near and dear to me - kids. Even more specifically, teenage kids. More specific? Kids who attend Premier/John Glenn Charter school at 75th Avenue & Indian School in Phoenix, Arizona.
These kids are getting completely fucked over by several entities. One is the Arizona State Board of Education. Another? The school's administrators.
I taught at this school for two years. I met my husband there. I met some fantastic kids. I worked for idiots.
My husband came home from work today to tell me about a situation at the school. There was a fight - between a group of "hispanic" girls and a group of "black" girls. I know some of the girls in both groups - and I like the girls that I know in both groups. They are basically very good kids who are trying to survive a really rough time in their lives.
These "groups" exchanged words today. There was a huge fight. The girls called each other every name in the book - some that make me blush (and those of you who read this blog know that is tough to do). One of the end results? After the fight, one of the girls, who is four months pregnant, ends up laying down on a table to calm herself down because her stomach is in pain. My husband kept guard in the room (after chasing around to break up the fight, going to the bus stop by the school to stop another fight, and then keeping the girl away from the principal who was SCREAMING at her). The girl is getting increasingly more uncomfortable and asks for her parents to be called. She then says that she feels the need to go to the hospital. At this point, she is writhing in pain.
My husband calls 911. He tells the 911 EMT's that there was a fight at the school and the girl is pregnant and having a hard time. He then alerts his administrators who are in their office EATING CHIPS AND DISCUSSING WHO IS AT FAULT, not helping out in the main body of the school. He asks that the girl's parents be called.
The EMT's arrive. They assess that the girl is bleeding. My husband is out of the room now and asking the other teachers to not let their students out of the classroom. The VP of Discipline tells my husband that his idea is a good one - that the other kids shouldn't be gaping at what is happening to the girl who may lose her baby.
For the rest of the day, the racial slurs are in full effect. The black students, white students, and the hispanic students, are all taking sides. My husband hears the ugliest of terms - "nigger" and "spic" - in between words that indicate that there will be guns and knives and big fights tomorrow.
The administrators finally make an appearance when the authorities show up. The EMT's had reported the fight to the police. The police are taking a report. The administrators are pissed off at my husband because they would have NEVER filed any report whatsoever. The same as when they didn't file a report last year when a kid brought a gun to school. The same as when they didn't file a report when they caught a girl dealing cocaine in the bathroom.
There are many other ins and outs to this story that I'm going to leave out because I'm flaming mad and trying to figure out what to do about this for the sake of these kids. I reported things to the state after I left the school last year. This year, the school is under watch by the state for other reasons - mainly because the kids aren't meeting the minimum test scores.
John Glenn Academy/Premier High School just got at $10M bond for furtherance of education facilities. These idiots who DO NOT EVEN HAVE POLICIES & PROCEDURES IN PLACE FOR TEACHERS AND STAFF for emergency events (actually, there are NO policies and procedures in place whatsoever), just received $10 MILLION DOLLARS. Read that again people - $10 MILLION DOLLARS.
There is no leadership in place in this institution. There are no guidelines. There is no attempt at diversity education whatsoever. In the 2004-2005 school year, I taught from August until April and NOT ONE Administrator ever stepped into my classroom to see what I was teaching the kids. NOT ONE. There is no discipline policy that is enforced. There is no sense of community with the kids. There is no leadership involvement with the kids. The teachers are blamed for everything that is wrong - even though they are the ones who discipline, direct and console those kids on a daily basis. There is no one at the top taking any responsibility for what is happening. And while all the racial groups screw up royally, most of the time only the hispanic or white kids get suspended.
I could begin to rant even more. I could go into countless examples of what happened while I was teaching there. Let me focus on today.
My husband went to the girls' volleyball game this evening after school. Some of the girls were involved in the riot at school today. The school's administrators dropped the girls off at the game. My husband and the coach ended up bringing the girls home because the administrators never came back.
The clincher? My husband called the Vice Principal this evening to ask if there was going to be extra security on campus tomorrow. This VP is a good man - nice guy, I have respect for him. However, he told my husband that tomorrow the administration was going to have a talk with him about his actions. I stood there as my husband was on the phone. The VP asked my husband why the police showed up. My husband reiterated that he told the EMT's that the pregnant student was hurt and they asked how she got hurt. He told the EMT's that there was a fight but he didn't know the details. The EMT's made the call to the police, not my husband.
And now they are going to take disciplinary action agains my husband? I DON'T THINK SO.
My husband and I were both in tears tonight thinking of the student who was suffering and bleeding on that classroom table. He did what was in the best interest of the child. Anyone who wouldn't do as such is inhumane and should be removed from contact with children IMMEDIATELY.
Suggestions on course of action (for the kids, not my husband - we are more worried about the kids than the state of hubby's job) are completely welcome. I've already started my letter to the Charter School Board, my congressmen and Tom Horne at the AZ Department of Education.
The pregnant young student is ok - well, somewhat ok. She did not lose the baby and is at home for a few days to recover from her stress. The administration has suspended her for 10 days.
My husband was observed today and told that his lesson was worthless. It covered AZ state standards and used teaching strategies from the book that the administration has been using to "improve" teaching methodology. All of his reviews - from the State of Arizona representative who gives reviews monthly - have been exceptional to date. All of a sudden, his review is horrible.
Draw your own conclusions.
Most importantly - the students are okay for now. And information is being sent to the appropriate authorities.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Dorian Gray
Last night, Remi and I sat out on the patio at a local restaurant drinking margaritas, shooting the shit. We've spent many a night this way - kicked back, relaxing, talking about nothing in particular.
The sunset turned the sky orangey blue. Our margaritas were limey green. We're laughing. Remi catches a glimpse of the table on the inside of the restaurant through the window.
"I love watching old ladies drink beer," she says, pushing the rock salt from the rim of her blue glass.
"Me too." I watch their wrinkled faces through the window as they sip their beers.
Remi smacks me. "That's gonna be you and me when we're old. It's like looking into an aging-mirror."
As if on cue, the women inside the restaurant laugh.
I wonder if they are thinking the same thing.
The sunset turned the sky orangey blue. Our margaritas were limey green. We're laughing. Remi catches a glimpse of the table on the inside of the restaurant through the window.
"I love watching old ladies drink beer," she says, pushing the rock salt from the rim of her blue glass.
"Me too." I watch their wrinkled faces through the window as they sip their beers.
Remi smacks me. "That's gonna be you and me when we're old. It's like looking into an aging-mirror."
As if on cue, the women inside the restaurant laugh.
I wonder if they are thinking the same thing.
Friday, October 07, 2005
Conversations with God
After reading this article, I thought I should come clean. I too, having been having some talks with God. I know what you are thinking - Roxy doesn't believe in God. But she does - just not in the Fundamentalist way.
The article states:
One of the delegates, Nabil Shaath, who was Palestinian foreign minister at the time, said: "President Bush said to all of us: 'I am driven with a mission from God'. God would tell me, 'George go and fight these terrorists in Afghanistan'. And I did. And then God would tell me 'George, go and end the tyranny in Iraq'. And I did."
Mr Bush went on: "And now, again, I feel God's words coming to me, 'Go get the Palestinians their state and get the Israelis their security, and get peace in the Middle East'. And, by God, I'm gonna do it."
It continues on and you can read it by clicking the link above. However, it is time for my confession.
Sometimes, I think God talks to me too. He says "Roxy, George W. Bush is an evil man with a simple mind. There is nothing more dangerous than someone in power who can't back up his statements with logic. He only believes that he's correct because he can point his finger to the sky and say that I'm guiding him. How can anyone argue with that? What they fail to realize, Roxy, is that I am everything. And most of all, I am your conscience that guides you. How can anyone believe that something so powerful could be guiding a man who is so petty?"
I agreed with God. I told him he should go directly to the Bush, let him know how he feels. God told me that he has tried to talk to George W. Bush. The only problem? GW doesn't listen and can't hear a damn word God is saying.
The article states:
One of the delegates, Nabil Shaath, who was Palestinian foreign minister at the time, said: "President Bush said to all of us: 'I am driven with a mission from God'. God would tell me, 'George go and fight these terrorists in Afghanistan'. And I did. And then God would tell me 'George, go and end the tyranny in Iraq'. And I did."
Mr Bush went on: "And now, again, I feel God's words coming to me, 'Go get the Palestinians their state and get the Israelis their security, and get peace in the Middle East'. And, by God, I'm gonna do it."
It continues on and you can read it by clicking the link above. However, it is time for my confession.
Sometimes, I think God talks to me too. He says "Roxy, George W. Bush is an evil man with a simple mind. There is nothing more dangerous than someone in power who can't back up his statements with logic. He only believes that he's correct because he can point his finger to the sky and say that I'm guiding him. How can anyone argue with that? What they fail to realize, Roxy, is that I am everything. And most of all, I am your conscience that guides you. How can anyone believe that something so powerful could be guiding a man who is so petty?"
I agreed with God. I told him he should go directly to the Bush, let him know how he feels. God told me that he has tried to talk to George W. Bush. The only problem? GW doesn't listen and can't hear a damn word God is saying.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Overheard, outside my office door
G: It is a porn racket - like women with animals.
R: That's beastiality!
G: Well, I'm okay with that.
I kid you not.
R: That's beastiality!
G: Well, I'm okay with that.
I kid you not.
Monday, October 03, 2005
Track 6 defined
My body buckles in a funk-a-licous groove, a zappy beat living in my shoes...
Run - don't walk - to your local music store.
Bite sized sample of L.S.F. here:
Kasabian
Run - don't walk - to your local music store.
Bite sized sample of L.S.F. here:
Kasabian
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Stunned Muppet
DeLay's picture on AOL's main page looks like he is a stunned muppet. However, if you visit MSN, you get this juicy serial killer look alike pic:
You sanctimonious bastard. I hope you suffer.
Update: AOL removed the muppet picture so I'm displaying it here.
Evilness abounds in his head.
You sanctimonious bastard. I hope you suffer.
Update: AOL removed the muppet picture so I'm displaying it here.
Evilness abounds in his head.
Friday, September 23, 2005
The Twitchy Bitchy
Seven days. That's how long my right eyelid has been spasmodically jerking like a tripped out teenager at a rave.
At first, I figured multiple strobe lights from multiple concerts caused eye damage -or a part-time brain tumor - and the trembling would subside.
Then -
Could it be the stress of bombing my Financial Accounting exam? I need to relax and forget the number hell of FIFO, LIFO and t-charts. Last night, I decided to get liquored up. Pure genius only I'm still spasming. And, as an added bonus, I now have a hangover and a freaky rash across my face caused by puking so hard that I broke my blood vessels. I am the beacon of sexiness right now. I'm sure today's clients thought they were dealing with the cast-aside bride of Frankenstein. I've always been vain, just not veiny.
Time to a visit to the only doctor I trust: WebMD. What causes an eye to twitch? The first search revealed one of two possible options. I'm either epileptic or can exhibit the traits of REM sleep while wide awake. While I love WebMD because it doesn't make me weigh-in when I come into the office, I often leave feeling like my problem, however minute, will lead to death sometime within the next 2 minutes.
Any suggestions? I remain all a-quiver in anticipation.
At first, I figured multiple strobe lights from multiple concerts caused eye damage -or a part-time brain tumor - and the trembling would subside.
Then -
Could it be the stress of bombing my Financial Accounting exam? I need to relax and forget the number hell of FIFO, LIFO and t-charts. Last night, I decided to get liquored up. Pure genius only I'm still spasming. And, as an added bonus, I now have a hangover and a freaky rash across my face caused by puking so hard that I broke my blood vessels. I am the beacon of sexiness right now. I'm sure today's clients thought they were dealing with the cast-aside bride of Frankenstein. I've always been vain, just not veiny.
Time to a visit to the only doctor I trust: WebMD. What causes an eye to twitch? The first search revealed one of two possible options. I'm either epileptic or can exhibit the traits of REM sleep while wide awake. While I love WebMD because it doesn't make me weigh-in when I come into the office, I often leave feeling like my problem, however minute, will lead to death sometime within the next 2 minutes.
Any suggestions? I remain all a-quiver in anticipation.
Post 100
I could reflect on the fact that I have posted 100 things on this blogspot, but I'm not going to.
Monday, September 19, 2005
Dear Drunk Asshole in Row 7,
First let me say, that I am so very happy that you live for Oasis. Your girly screams, the fact that all you could do is pump your arm and point at the band and your less-than-coordinated booty shakin' all served to back up that point. I'm glad you told your friends at the top of your lungs that "this" - the concert - was the "meaning of your life" and "it" for you.
My only complaint was that you kept sticking your smelly beer hands right next to my head, and that you were so very drunk that you hit me several times over the course of the evening. Just as an FYI to you, when I raised my fist in response to "Don't Look Back in Anger," I was celebrating the song and taking the opportunity to pop you back to your row.
I can tell you honestly that if you had hit me one more time, you wouldn't have known what hit you. Next time you go to a concert, don't be such a drunk dick. I'd hate it if you had your teeth broken by someone less tolerant than me.
Hope your hangover hurts like a motherfucker and that you are hugging your toilet bowl this morning.
Love and Kisses,
Roxy
My only complaint was that you kept sticking your smelly beer hands right next to my head, and that you were so very drunk that you hit me several times over the course of the evening. Just as an FYI to you, when I raised my fist in response to "Don't Look Back in Anger," I was celebrating the song and taking the opportunity to pop you back to your row.
I can tell you honestly that if you had hit me one more time, you wouldn't have known what hit you. Next time you go to a concert, don't be such a drunk dick. I'd hate it if you had your teeth broken by someone less tolerant than me.
Hope your hangover hurts like a motherfucker and that you are hugging your toilet bowl this morning.
Love and Kisses,
Roxy
And just WHERE were you while we were getting high?
Last night's Oasis concert prompted that ever-important question.
As Kevin and I sang at the top of our lungs (6 rows back, center, close enough to feel the sweat from Jet and the brothers Gallagher - or was it the beer shower from the asshole behind us?), I thought of the Champagne Supernova that was my senior year in college.
I had to ask. On the way home from the concert, I took a look at my young hubby.
"So, honey, where were you while I was getting high?"
"When was that?"
"College mostly - probably 1996?"
"I was in the boy scouts."
Damn.
This is the pain of marrying someone 7 years your junior.
While I was baked out at the K-Sig Toga party (fully commando under my sheet - Amy laughing at me), my hubby was building forts out of mud at Camp Cuchiyonga or some such place.
Bet he didn't even have enough sense back then to eat the camp's shrooms.
As Kevin and I sang at the top of our lungs (6 rows back, center, close enough to feel the sweat from Jet and the brothers Gallagher - or was it the beer shower from the asshole behind us?), I thought of the Champagne Supernova that was my senior year in college.
I had to ask. On the way home from the concert, I took a look at my young hubby.
"So, honey, where were you while I was getting high?"
"When was that?"
"College mostly - probably 1996?"
"I was in the boy scouts."
Damn.
This is the pain of marrying someone 7 years your junior.
While I was baked out at the K-Sig Toga party (fully commando under my sheet - Amy laughing at me), my hubby was building forts out of mud at Camp Cuchiyonga or some such place.
Bet he didn't even have enough sense back then to eat the camp's shrooms.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
It just dawned on me...
I've got some posts a-brewin' in my feeble noggin, but it just dawned on me that I've never posted pictures of Elvis - the other namesake of this blog. So, without further ado, our pooch:
Here he is in his puppy Argyle sweater. It was cold in Virginia where we used to be and he was skinny when I first got him - cut me some slack for dressing my dog.
See? Snow.
And then, nap:
And with his first friend, Bartleby:
I'll see if I can find the picture of him peeing on the World's Largest Ball of Twine. And when the goats chased him at the site of the World's Largest Gopher. Yes, we are lame.
Here he is in his puppy Argyle sweater. It was cold in Virginia where we used to be and he was skinny when I first got him - cut me some slack for dressing my dog.
See? Snow.
And then, nap:
And with his first friend, Bartleby:
I'll see if I can find the picture of him peeing on the World's Largest Ball of Twine. And when the goats chased him at the site of the World's Largest Gopher. Yes, we are lame.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
torrid tête - à - tête
You grow slowly, prominently, until you are long and pronounced. Winding your way up so that all I can see is you. I close my eyes, envision your shape, your twist. I want to pull, push - do everything in my power to dominate you and be in control. But you are controlling me - you amaranthine beast. You make me think of all that is me - about life, time and mortality. And I'm haunted, hunted and no longer unassailable. Pluck you, my single gray hair. Pluck. You.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Tori Tonight!
This is the start of our big concert weekend. Tori Amos tonight, Oasis and Jet on Sunday evening and Nine Inch Nails on Monday.
Between concerts and classes every night, sleep deprivation is bound to set in soon. Being the insomniac that I am, I don't mind too much.
Between concerts and classes every night, sleep deprivation is bound to set in soon. Being the insomniac that I am, I don't mind too much.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
El Grito
In a previous life, I must have been Mexican. Not Spanish, not Latin American - Mexican. It is the only way I can explain my affinity for the music, El Dia de los Muertos, the dancing, the colorful fiestas, the ceremonial culture, the literature, the languages, the FOOD of glorious Mexico.
Today, the university is celebrating the day of Mexican Independence (a day early because of school schedules). There are booths honoring the Olmec, the Teotihuacan, the Mayan, Toltec, the Aztec empires. Costumes from ceremonies in Hidalgo, Jalisco, Sonora, Chihuahua, Nayarit are ribbons and blooms, lovingly displayed. The music - a blend of guitarros and and brass - fills the courtyard. The struggle for independencia is storyboarded. And the long line of antojitos are enticing even the strictest of dieters.
The thing I like the most is that Mexcian culture tends to celebrate life. Familia, religion, food, amor - all are weaved into the daily tapestry. The idea that la vida is glorious. We should all celebrate life as much.
Sitting in the courtyard, admiring the groups of people talking and laughing, I feel warm, relaxed, happy and home.
Today, the university is celebrating the day of Mexican Independence (a day early because of school schedules). There are booths honoring the Olmec, the Teotihuacan, the Mayan, Toltec, the Aztec empires. Costumes from ceremonies in Hidalgo, Jalisco, Sonora, Chihuahua, Nayarit are ribbons and blooms, lovingly displayed. The music - a blend of guitarros and and brass - fills the courtyard. The struggle for independencia is storyboarded. And the long line of antojitos are enticing even the strictest of dieters.
The thing I like the most is that Mexcian culture tends to celebrate life. Familia, religion, food, amor - all are weaved into the daily tapestry. The idea that la vida is glorious. We should all celebrate life as much.
Sitting in the courtyard, admiring the groups of people talking and laughing, I feel warm, relaxed, happy and home.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Roxy's World
Roxy will resume posting when she has had some time to sort out her priorities, get out of her funk, and when she thinks she actually has something to share that isn't trite or regurgitated.
Friday, September 02, 2005
Best Friends
My Aunt is fine. She is one of the lucky ones. Her house isn't broken tinder, isn't flooded. She isn't in personal danger like so many others in New Orleans - not sick, not raped, not murdered, not hurt.
She is leading the way, helping disaster recovery for her company's employees in an office in Lafayette.
I hope and pray and wish for safety and healing for those living in that nightmare.
Tonight, there will be a telethon on NBC to raise funds for the victims of Katrina. Watch, call and donate if you can. Some other relief (& relief tips): katrina housing, list of places to donate and The BBB Give Organiaztion.
And to my best friends who inquired and offered assistance without hesitation - thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are the reason that there is hope in the aftermath.
She is leading the way, helping disaster recovery for her company's employees in an office in Lafayette.
I hope and pray and wish for safety and healing for those living in that nightmare.
Tonight, there will be a telethon on NBC to raise funds for the victims of Katrina. Watch, call and donate if you can. Some other relief (& relief tips): katrina housing, list of places to donate and The BBB Give Organiaztion.
And to my best friends who inquired and offered assistance without hesitation - thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are the reason that there is hope in the aftermath.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
New Reason? How about Real Reason.
Bush Gives New Reason for Iraq War
By Jennifer Loven, The Associated Press
Wednesday 31 August 2005
Coronado, California - President Bush answered growing antiwar protests yesterday with a fresh reason for US troops to continue fighting in Iraq: protection of the country's vast oil fields, which he said would otherwise fall under the control of terrorist extremists.
The president, standing against a backdrop of the USS Ronald Reagan, the newest aircraft carrier in the Navy's fleet, said terrorists would be denied their goal of making Iraq a base from which to recruit followers, train them, and finance attacks.
"We will defeat the terrorists," Bush said. "We will build a free Iraq that will fight terrorists instead of giving them aid and sanctuary."
Appearing at Naval Air Station North Island to commemorate the anniversary of the Allies' World War II victory over Japan, Bush compared his resolve to President Franklin D. Roosevelt's in the 1940s and said America's mission in Iraq is to turn it into a democratic ally just as the United States did with Japan after its 1945 surrender. Bush's V-J Day ceremony did not fall on the actual anniversary. Japan announced its surrender on Aug. 15, 1945 - Aug. 14 in the United States because of the time difference.
Democrats said Bush's leadership falls far short of Roosevelt's.
"Democratic Presidents Roosevelt and Truman led America to victory in World War II because they laid out a clear plan for success to the American people, America's allies, and America's troops," said Howard Dean, Democratic Party chairman. "President Bush has failed to put together a plan, so despite the bravery and sacrifice of our troops, we are not making the progress that we should be in Iraq. The troops, our allies, and the American people deserve better leadership from our commander in chief."
The speech was Bush's third in just over a week defending his Iraq policies, as the White House scrambles to counter growing public concern about the war. But the devastation wrought by Hurricane Katrina in the Gulf Coast drew attention away; the White House announced during the president's remarks that he was cutting his August vacation short to return to Washington, D.C., to oversee the federal response effort.
After the speech, Bush hurried back to Texas ahead of schedule to prepare to fly back to the nation's capital today. He was to return to the White House on Friday, after spending more than four weeks operating from his ranch in Crawford.
Bush's August break has been marked by problems in Iraq.
It has been an especially deadly month there for US troops, with the number of those who have died since the invasion of Iraq in March 2003 now nearing 1,900.
The growing death toll has become a regular feature of the slightly larger protests that Bush now encounters everywhere he goes - a movement boosted by a vigil set up in a field down the road from the president's ranch by a mother grieving the loss of her soldier son in Iraq.
Cindy Sheehan arrived in Crawford only days after Bush did, asking for a meeting so he could explain why her son and others are dying in Iraq. The White House refused, and Sheehan's camp turned into a hub of activity for hundreds of activists around the country demanding that troops be brought home.
This week, the administration also had to defend the proposed constitution produced in Iraq at US urging. Critics fear the impact of its rejection by many Sunnis, and say it fails to protect religious freedom and women's rights.
At the naval base, Bush declared, "We will not rest until victory is America's and our freedom is secure" from Al Qaeda and its forces in Iraq led by Abu Musab al Zarqawi.
"If Zarqawi and [Osama] bin Laden gain control of Iraq, they would create a new training ground for future terrorist attacks," Bush said. "They'd seize oil fields to fund their ambitions. They could recruit more terrorists by claiming a historic victory over the United States and our coalition."
By Jennifer Loven, The Associated Press
Wednesday 31 August 2005
Coronado, California - President Bush answered growing antiwar protests yesterday with a fresh reason for US troops to continue fighting in Iraq: protection of the country's vast oil fields, which he said would otherwise fall under the control of terrorist extremists.
The president, standing against a backdrop of the USS Ronald Reagan, the newest aircraft carrier in the Navy's fleet, said terrorists would be denied their goal of making Iraq a base from which to recruit followers, train them, and finance attacks.
"We will defeat the terrorists," Bush said. "We will build a free Iraq that will fight terrorists instead of giving them aid and sanctuary."
Appearing at Naval Air Station North Island to commemorate the anniversary of the Allies' World War II victory over Japan, Bush compared his resolve to President Franklin D. Roosevelt's in the 1940s and said America's mission in Iraq is to turn it into a democratic ally just as the United States did with Japan after its 1945 surrender. Bush's V-J Day ceremony did not fall on the actual anniversary. Japan announced its surrender on Aug. 15, 1945 - Aug. 14 in the United States because of the time difference.
Democrats said Bush's leadership falls far short of Roosevelt's.
"Democratic Presidents Roosevelt and Truman led America to victory in World War II because they laid out a clear plan for success to the American people, America's allies, and America's troops," said Howard Dean, Democratic Party chairman. "President Bush has failed to put together a plan, so despite the bravery and sacrifice of our troops, we are not making the progress that we should be in Iraq. The troops, our allies, and the American people deserve better leadership from our commander in chief."
The speech was Bush's third in just over a week defending his Iraq policies, as the White House scrambles to counter growing public concern about the war. But the devastation wrought by Hurricane Katrina in the Gulf Coast drew attention away; the White House announced during the president's remarks that he was cutting his August vacation short to return to Washington, D.C., to oversee the federal response effort.
After the speech, Bush hurried back to Texas ahead of schedule to prepare to fly back to the nation's capital today. He was to return to the White House on Friday, after spending more than four weeks operating from his ranch in Crawford.
Bush's August break has been marked by problems in Iraq.
It has been an especially deadly month there for US troops, with the number of those who have died since the invasion of Iraq in March 2003 now nearing 1,900.
The growing death toll has become a regular feature of the slightly larger protests that Bush now encounters everywhere he goes - a movement boosted by a vigil set up in a field down the road from the president's ranch by a mother grieving the loss of her soldier son in Iraq.
Cindy Sheehan arrived in Crawford only days after Bush did, asking for a meeting so he could explain why her son and others are dying in Iraq. The White House refused, and Sheehan's camp turned into a hub of activity for hundreds of activists around the country demanding that troops be brought home.
This week, the administration also had to defend the proposed constitution produced in Iraq at US urging. Critics fear the impact of its rejection by many Sunnis, and say it fails to protect religious freedom and women's rights.
At the naval base, Bush declared, "We will not rest until victory is America's and our freedom is secure" from Al Qaeda and its forces in Iraq led by Abu Musab al Zarqawi.
"If Zarqawi and [Osama] bin Laden gain control of Iraq, they would create a new training ground for future terrorist attacks," Bush said. "They'd seize oil fields to fund their ambitions. They could recruit more terrorists by claiming a historic victory over the United States and our coalition."
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Coming Out
Today, I'm coming out. Even though I don't really hide this aspect of my person, I must say I don't drone one about it either. I'm pagan.
Pagan? What does that mean? She worships the devil (no - the concept of the devil is based in western, monotheistic religions). Worships multiple gods and goddesses (no - I'm not Wiccan). Can she be dabbling in witchcraft and voodoo (two very different things, I might add)? What exactly is a pagan?
Wikipedia sums it up nicely: "Many current Pagans in industrial societies base their beliefs and practices on a connection to Nature, and a divinity within all living things, but this may not hold true for all forms of Paganism, past or present. Some believe that there are many deities, while some believe that the combined subconscious spirit of all living things forms the universal deity."
So, everything is connected? Yes. Respect all living things? Yes. Sacrifice small creatures while dancing naked under the moonlight? No. Though the dancing naked in the moonlight thing has happened under different circumstances.
Wikipedia also says "It is possible that the various pagan practices were not seen as instances of a more general 'paganism' at all until the point when the term was used to blur distinctions between non-Christian beliefs and make of them one homogenous, primitive mass....Religions of Southern and Eastern Asian origin (eg. Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism and Shinto) are generally considered to be pagan."
Blur me away from Christianity. Many of the things I do believe are Buddhist.
I believe that everything I do comes back to me (Karma - originally linked to Hinduism). If I'm good, I get good. If I'm bad, I get bad. I'm responsible for my actions. Obviously, it is much more complex than all this, but that is the general premise. I think everything is connected - that all people, places and things are part of the greater something.
This is the point where I stop talking about my beliefs. I don't need to share everything, and most likely, you don't really want to know everything. Everyone has his or her own beliefs. You don't have to agree or disagree with mine, just as I don't have to agree or disagree with yours.
This post is really about me writing to the great unknown Internet about things I believe instead of telling some people (who have recently tried to "convert" me to their religion) to back off. I guess I just needed to vent.
At some point though, there will come a time when I have to tell those same people that I'm so glad they have something they believe in. I'm happy that they are happy with who they are and what religion they represent.
And I'm going to say that I'm happy too. I like me and I am firmly grounded in what I believe. I'm not going to change everything that I am to fit into their perfect view of what a person should be. If they don't like me for me, it isn't my problem. It's theirs.
Pagan? What does that mean? She worships the devil (no - the concept of the devil is based in western, monotheistic religions). Worships multiple gods and goddesses (no - I'm not Wiccan). Can she be dabbling in witchcraft and voodoo (two very different things, I might add)? What exactly is a pagan?
Wikipedia sums it up nicely: "Many current Pagans in industrial societies base their beliefs and practices on a connection to Nature, and a divinity within all living things, but this may not hold true for all forms of Paganism, past or present. Some believe that there are many deities, while some believe that the combined subconscious spirit of all living things forms the universal deity."
So, everything is connected? Yes. Respect all living things? Yes. Sacrifice small creatures while dancing naked under the moonlight? No. Though the dancing naked in the moonlight thing has happened under different circumstances.
Wikipedia also says "It is possible that the various pagan practices were not seen as instances of a more general 'paganism' at all until the point when the term was used to blur distinctions between non-Christian beliefs and make of them one homogenous, primitive mass....Religions of Southern and Eastern Asian origin (eg. Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism and Shinto) are generally considered to be pagan."
Blur me away from Christianity. Many of the things I do believe are Buddhist.
I believe that everything I do comes back to me (Karma - originally linked to Hinduism). If I'm good, I get good. If I'm bad, I get bad. I'm responsible for my actions. Obviously, it is much more complex than all this, but that is the general premise. I think everything is connected - that all people, places and things are part of the greater something.
This is the point where I stop talking about my beliefs. I don't need to share everything, and most likely, you don't really want to know everything. Everyone has his or her own beliefs. You don't have to agree or disagree with mine, just as I don't have to agree or disagree with yours.
This post is really about me writing to the great unknown Internet about things I believe instead of telling some people (who have recently tried to "convert" me to their religion) to back off. I guess I just needed to vent.
At some point though, there will come a time when I have to tell those same people that I'm so glad they have something they believe in. I'm happy that they are happy with who they are and what religion they represent.
And I'm going to say that I'm happy too. I like me and I am firmly grounded in what I believe. I'm not going to change everything that I am to fit into their perfect view of what a person should be. If they don't like me for me, it isn't my problem. It's theirs.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Pixie Stick Sandwiches
Next time I get a craving, I will close my office door so my ever-critical, always sarcastic office assistant doesn't come in to see me hovered over my styrofoam plate carefully squeezing sticky grape jelly from the tiny rectangular plastic box onto my delicious chicken tortilla wrap lunch.
What Ally Sheedy did as Allison Reynolds in The Breakfast Club was far more grody.
What Ally Sheedy did as Allison Reynolds in The Breakfast Club was far more grody.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Left of Center
I don't know what it is that reminds me of Mamma the most.
When I think of her I think of boxy red leather suitcases, pink and green house dresses, sensible shoes and plastic bag purses containing her most necessary items - camera (snapping wildly at our soccer games, swim meets and front yard dance parties), wallet, green cat-eye prescription sunglasses.
She had strong fingernails, lucid eyes and an unforgotten spirit. She lived - thinking nothing of boarding a bus to destinations unknown with her friend Kitty. She was fearless - bartering in Italian with street vendors in Tijuana (She told me that if they knew Spanish, they should be able to understand her). She loved the Poconos enough to buy retirement property there. We all knew in our secret hearts she'd never leave New York.
She'd visit bi-yearly, sometimes more, arriving with hard mozzarella (pronounced mootsa-rella for you non-italians), salty prosciutto and Arthur Avenue breadsticks - leaving baked ziti, eggplant parmigiano, and frozen press-n-seal bags of fresh sauce with meatball in her wake.
Mamma pinched our dimpled cheeks everytime she disembarked her plane from La Guardia. She called me "Bella." She spelled my middle name Renea, instead of Renee, because I liked the thought of having an "A" in my middle name. Her given name was Angelina though everyone called her Eda or Mamma.
On warm Arizona evenings, she would walk to the TCBY - over a mile away - to get frozen yogurt. Many times, Robbie and I tailed her and got a treat as well. She taught me Italian phrases while I rinsed and loaded nightly dinner dishes. My favorite was "Non al cervello" (no brains) which I used on my brother quite often when I didn't know how else to piss him off. We spent most of her summer visits in the pool.
Then there were visits to the Bronx - surrounded by her treasures, lost in her basement, exploring the childhood rooms of my father and aunt. We'd sit in the kitchen, making fresh Italian sandwiches at her square shaped table, looking out the back door at the grounds and buildings of Fordham University.
We never spent a lot of time at her house - preferring to tour downtown Manhattan with Mamma and my Dad charging the way. The frigid morning of the Macy's Day Parade, she bought Rob and I steaming chestnuts for our frozen pockets and treated us to hot chocolate at a packed deli off the parade route. She was pure New York attitude and resilience.
The day of her funeral, Robbie and I arrived at her house before our parents and aunt. We stood in her driveway waiting - as if she would emerge from her back door. Finally, we gave up and walked to the White Castle. On our way back, I know we talked about her as if she were still there - like she was walking through her neighborhood and talking to everyone who passed.
After the funeral, we went back to Mamma's and gathered some family photos from her sun porch. We talked to Sal across the street. I took an acorn from under the tree on the side of her house and buried it deep in my pocket. I thought of the hot chestnuts from the parade and how I would miss my grandmother.
I think of her often - especially on the 17th of August, her birthday. I know her spirit lives on - the scent of her lotion followed me through my wedding day.
I miss her more now that I am older.
I have more things to tell her and more questions to ask.
When I think of her I think of boxy red leather suitcases, pink and green house dresses, sensible shoes and plastic bag purses containing her most necessary items - camera (snapping wildly at our soccer games, swim meets and front yard dance parties), wallet, green cat-eye prescription sunglasses.
She had strong fingernails, lucid eyes and an unforgotten spirit. She lived - thinking nothing of boarding a bus to destinations unknown with her friend Kitty. She was fearless - bartering in Italian with street vendors in Tijuana (She told me that if they knew Spanish, they should be able to understand her). She loved the Poconos enough to buy retirement property there. We all knew in our secret hearts she'd never leave New York.
She'd visit bi-yearly, sometimes more, arriving with hard mozzarella (pronounced mootsa-rella for you non-italians), salty prosciutto and Arthur Avenue breadsticks - leaving baked ziti, eggplant parmigiano, and frozen press-n-seal bags of fresh sauce with meatball in her wake.
Mamma pinched our dimpled cheeks everytime she disembarked her plane from La Guardia. She called me "Bella." She spelled my middle name Renea, instead of Renee, because I liked the thought of having an "A" in my middle name. Her given name was Angelina though everyone called her Eda or Mamma.
On warm Arizona evenings, she would walk to the TCBY - over a mile away - to get frozen yogurt. Many times, Robbie and I tailed her and got a treat as well. She taught me Italian phrases while I rinsed and loaded nightly dinner dishes. My favorite was "Non al cervello" (no brains) which I used on my brother quite often when I didn't know how else to piss him off. We spent most of her summer visits in the pool.
Then there were visits to the Bronx - surrounded by her treasures, lost in her basement, exploring the childhood rooms of my father and aunt. We'd sit in the kitchen, making fresh Italian sandwiches at her square shaped table, looking out the back door at the grounds and buildings of Fordham University.
We never spent a lot of time at her house - preferring to tour downtown Manhattan with Mamma and my Dad charging the way. The frigid morning of the Macy's Day Parade, she bought Rob and I steaming chestnuts for our frozen pockets and treated us to hot chocolate at a packed deli off the parade route. She was pure New York attitude and resilience.
The day of her funeral, Robbie and I arrived at her house before our parents and aunt. We stood in her driveway waiting - as if she would emerge from her back door. Finally, we gave up and walked to the White Castle. On our way back, I know we talked about her as if she were still there - like she was walking through her neighborhood and talking to everyone who passed.
After the funeral, we went back to Mamma's and gathered some family photos from her sun porch. We talked to Sal across the street. I took an acorn from under the tree on the side of her house and buried it deep in my pocket. I thought of the hot chestnuts from the parade and how I would miss my grandmother.
I think of her often - especially on the 17th of August, her birthday. I know her spirit lives on - the scent of her lotion followed me through my wedding day.
I miss her more now that I am older.
I have more things to tell her and more questions to ask.
Monday, August 15, 2005
Monday, August 08, 2005
Note to Self
Dear 20-year-old Self,
Hi! It has been a long time since I've thought about you. I was looking through pictures the other day and saw your face. Can I just say that you looked good girlfriend! No lines, thinner than what you've recently become, calves like steel. Pretty cute with your gothy black hair and sun-deprived Pacific Northwest face.
I just have one question for you.
Why the hell didn't you bang more guys? I mean, I know your bright green eyes were transfixed on that cigarette-puffing-pepsi-chugging first love prince of yours - but dude, he was fucking around on you! You should have dumped his ass and scored with British Rob! That night he knocked on your door at 2AM licking his English lips and you turned him away because you didn't want to be slutty.
All I'm saying is that if you knew then what I know now, you'd have appreciated your flexibility a little bit more.
Love,
Your 30-year-old Self
Hi! It has been a long time since I've thought about you. I was looking through pictures the other day and saw your face. Can I just say that you looked good girlfriend! No lines, thinner than what you've recently become, calves like steel. Pretty cute with your gothy black hair and sun-deprived Pacific Northwest face.
I just have one question for you.
Why the hell didn't you bang more guys? I mean, I know your bright green eyes were transfixed on that cigarette-puffing-pepsi-chugging first love prince of yours - but dude, he was fucking around on you! You should have dumped his ass and scored with British Rob! That night he knocked on your door at 2AM licking his English lips and you turned him away because you didn't want to be slutty.
All I'm saying is that if you knew then what I know now, you'd have appreciated your flexibility a little bit more.
Love,
Your 30-year-old Self
Polyester Bride
if i were Liz Phair
i'd unfurl
hungover
into gray frigid morning
choke down a menthol and
albino coffee
dress in silky blue undies
stilettos and
sweat pants
dance around the planked floor
and sing nonsense
so the neighbors could hear.
i'd unfurl
hungover
into gray frigid morning
choke down a menthol and
albino coffee
dress in silky blue undies
stilettos and
sweat pants
dance around the planked floor
and sing nonsense
so the neighbors could hear.
Friday, August 05, 2005
This Friday afternoon, I'm
contemplating the perpetually evil George Bush, the ex who dominated my dreams last night, writing, and the process of moving back to Virginia.
I'm also thinking about how Joss Whedon may have unknowingly introduced a platform on how to jumpstart the efforts being made for world peace.
In the Buffy episode, "Once More With Feeling," Whedon spins a musical tale of demons (both literal and figurative) laced with the moral intracies of deception, love, hope and human bonds (not bondage - get your mind out of the gutter). All the characters (and the fine people of Sunnydale) lose the ability to talk - everyone is possessed to candidly communicate through song. The result? More truthful, vivid and passionate human interaction. Imagine the soul cleansing if we had to sing to communicate?
Then again, to foster better world relations, maybe we should take a clue from another Buffy classic and just shut up.
I'm also thinking about how Joss Whedon may have unknowingly introduced a platform on how to jumpstart the efforts being made for world peace.
In the Buffy episode, "Once More With Feeling," Whedon spins a musical tale of demons (both literal and figurative) laced with the moral intracies of deception, love, hope and human bonds (not bondage - get your mind out of the gutter). All the characters (and the fine people of Sunnydale) lose the ability to talk - everyone is possessed to candidly communicate through song. The result? More truthful, vivid and passionate human interaction. Imagine the soul cleansing if we had to sing to communicate?
Then again, to foster better world relations, maybe we should take a clue from another Buffy classic and just shut up.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Evil has roots
The other day, a former student of mine came to the University where I work to enroll. For two years, he's spoken of ambitions and dreams to code and program the games to which he is addicted. He is a hard worker - not the most brilliant - but the most dedicated. He plods along until he reaches a pinnacle of achievement and then looks beyond to the next challenge.
His mother works 3 jobs and supports 5 people - a sick husband, three children and a new grandbaby that was conceived by her high school dropout daughter. Strong and dedicated, Mom is, and I don't believe she finished high school. She is proud of her son for taking the road never traveled and inquiring about college. But she cannot pay for his journey.
He seeks cash for college to no avail. Scholarships? A lofty ambition. I received word two days ago that he is postponing ambitions because no one can offer him financial aid.
In a parallel timespan, my husband is informed that his school has decided to not continue the meager raises given to teachers last year. "Funding isn't available this year," they squawk. Meanwhile, the principal and primary charter owners just finished building custom homes in gated communities. The school doesn't have textbooks for half their classes. Now they are taking away the extra $40 a month they gifted to my husband as part of his salary last year? He is a dedicated teacher - has a good heart - really wants to help the kids.
As I sopped up the lake that infiltrated my front rotunda the other night (courtesy of the dizzying monsoon and gap between door and frame), I thought about how my wet plight was related to aforementioned issues. Trend Homes has yet to fix many of the items in our new house from our original punch list. We've been in our home for 8 months and can't get a few things taken care of because of "lack of resources," but most likely because Trend doesn't want to shell out a few dollars to back up their warranty claims.
Greed is ever present, I know this. Money is always just out of reach. What concerns me most is pervasive apathy and heartlessness. I just want to know - when did people stop caring?
His mother works 3 jobs and supports 5 people - a sick husband, three children and a new grandbaby that was conceived by her high school dropout daughter. Strong and dedicated, Mom is, and I don't believe she finished high school. She is proud of her son for taking the road never traveled and inquiring about college. But she cannot pay for his journey.
He seeks cash for college to no avail. Scholarships? A lofty ambition. I received word two days ago that he is postponing ambitions because no one can offer him financial aid.
In a parallel timespan, my husband is informed that his school has decided to not continue the meager raises given to teachers last year. "Funding isn't available this year," they squawk. Meanwhile, the principal and primary charter owners just finished building custom homes in gated communities. The school doesn't have textbooks for half their classes. Now they are taking away the extra $40 a month they gifted to my husband as part of his salary last year? He is a dedicated teacher - has a good heart - really wants to help the kids.
As I sopped up the lake that infiltrated my front rotunda the other night (courtesy of the dizzying monsoon and gap between door and frame), I thought about how my wet plight was related to aforementioned issues. Trend Homes has yet to fix many of the items in our new house from our original punch list. We've been in our home for 8 months and can't get a few things taken care of because of "lack of resources," but most likely because Trend doesn't want to shell out a few dollars to back up their warranty claims.
Greed is ever present, I know this. Money is always just out of reach. What concerns me most is pervasive apathy and heartlessness. I just want to know - when did people stop caring?
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Singin' like the GoGo's
Vacation's all I ever wanted - Vacation have to get away...
Perhaps I'll have tales of grand adventure upon my return next week. Perhaps I'll just be bitching about airline food.
Tune in next week to see if Roxy and Hubby enjoyed their vacation. Smoochies to my loyal readers - all 2 of you. If you really get bored - go back and read some of my more interesting posts: here, here, here, here, here, here, and here. Pretty conceited to link to myself.
Perhaps I'll have tales of grand adventure upon my return next week. Perhaps I'll just be bitching about airline food.
Tune in next week to see if Roxy and Hubby enjoyed their vacation. Smoochies to my loyal readers - all 2 of you. If you really get bored - go back and read some of my more interesting posts: here, here, here, here, here, here, and here. Pretty conceited to link to myself.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Greg's Meme-like post
From Greg, I give you Spin's Top 100 albums. The ones in bold are the ones I own.
How many do you have?
1. Radiohead - OK Computer (1997).
2. Public Enemy - It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back (1988).
3. Nirvana - Nevermind (1991).
4. Pavement - Slanted and Enchanted (1992).
5. The Smiths - The Queen is Dead (1986).
6. Pixies - Surfer Rosa (1988).
7. De La Soul - 3 Feet High and Rising (1989).
8. Prince - Sign O' the Times (1987).
9. PJ Harvey - Rid of Me (1993).
10. N.W.A. - Straight Outta Compton (1988).
11. U2 - Achtung Baby (1991).
12. Beastie Boys - Paul's Boutique (1989).
13. Hüsker Dü - New Day Rising (1985).
14. Sonic Youth - Daydream Nation (1988).
15. Liz Phair - Exile in Guyville (1993).
16. Beck - Odelay (1996).
17. Nas - Illmatic (1994).
18. Guns N' Roses - Appetite for Destruction (1987).
19. Hole - Live Through This (1994).
20. Wu-Tang Clan - Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) (1993).
21. Public Enemy - Fear of a Black Planet (1990).
22. My Bloody Valentine - Loveless (1991).
23. Outkast - Stankonia (2000).
24. Sleater-Kinney - Dig Me Out (1997).
25. Nine Inch Nails - The Downward Spiral (1994).
26. Björk - Post (1995).
27. The Cure - The Head on the Door (1985).
28. Oasis - Definitely Maybe (1994).
29. Fugazi - 13 Songs (1989).
30. The Notorious B.I.G. - Ready to Die (1994).
31. Dinosaur Jr. - You're Living All Over Me (1987).
32. The Replacements - Tim (1985).
33. Ice Cube - AmeriKKKa's Most Wanted (1990).
34. Elliot Smith - Either/Or (1997).
35. Dr. Dre - The Chronic (1992).
36. Pixies - Doolittle (1989).
37. Guided By Voices - Bee Thousand (1994).
38. A Tribe Called Quest - The Low End Theory (1991).
39. Lucinda Williams - Lucinda Williams (1988).
40. Run-D.M.C. - Raising Hell (1986).
41. Smashing Pumpkins - Siamese Dream (1993).
42. Jane's Addiction - Nothing's Shocking (1988). I always meant to buy this.
43. Boogie Down Productions - Criminal Minded (1987).
44. Green Day - Dookie (1994).
45. Kanye West - College Dropout (2004).
46. The Fall - The Nation's Saving Grace (1985).
47. Eric B. & Rakim - Paid in Full (1987).
48. Radiohead - Kid A (2000).
49. Lauryn Hill - The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill (1998).
50. New Order - Low-Life (1985).
51. Nirvana - In Utero (1993).
52. Beastie Boys - Licensed to Ill (1986).
53. Rage Against the Machine - The Battle of Los Angeles (1999).
54. The Breeders - Last Splash (1993).
55. The Chemical Brothers - Dig Your Own Hole (1997).
56. PJ Harvey - To Bring You My Love (1995).
57. The White Stripes - White Blood Cells (2001).
58. Metallica - Master of Puppets (1986).
59. Modest Mouse - The Lonesome Crowded West (1997).
60. De La Soul - De La Soul is Dead (1991).
61. Weezer - Pinkerton (1996).
62. Missy Elliott - Supa Dupa Fly (1997).
63. Pavement - Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain (1994).
64. Eminem - The Marshall Mathers LP (2000).
65. Basement Jaxx - Remedy (1999).
66. Outkast - Aquemini (1998).
67. Slayer - Reign in Blood (1986).
68. Tricky - Maxiquaye (1995).
69. DJ Shadow - Entroducing DJ Shadow (1996).
70. Jay-Z - The Blueprint (2001).
71. The Jesus and Mary Chain - Psychocandy (1985).
72. Raekwon - Only Built 4 Cuban Linx (1995).
73. Pulp - Different Class (1995).
74. Portishead - Dummy (1994).
75. Le Tigre - Le Tigre (1999).
76. Belle and Sebastian - If You're Feeling Sinister (1997).
77. Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (2002).
78. The Stone Roses - The Stone Roses (1989).
79. Moby - Everything is Wrong (1995).
80. D'Angelo - Voodoo (2000).
81. Beck - Mellow Gold (1994).
82. Jeff Buckley - Grace (1994).
83. At the Drive-In - Relationship of Command (2000).
84. Soundgarden - Superunknown (1994).
85. R.E.M. - Automatic for the People (1992).
86. Meat Puppets - Up on the Sun (1985).
87. Blur - Parklife (1994).
88. Stereolab - Emperor Tomato Ketchup (1996).
89. Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Fever to Tell (2003).
90. Sonic Youth - Sister (1987).
91. XTC - Skylarking (1986).
92. Big Black - Atomizer (1986).
93. Pearl Jam - Ten (1991).
94. Slint - Spiderland (1991).
95. Elastica - Elastica (1995).
96. The Pogues - Rum, Sodomy and the Lash (1985).
97. Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea (1998).
98. Cornershop - When I Was Born for the 7th Time (1997).
99. Afghan Whigs - Gentlemen (1993).
100. The Strokes - This is It (2001).
How many do you have?
1. Radiohead - OK Computer (1997).
2. Public Enemy - It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back (1988).
3. Nirvana - Nevermind (1991).
4. Pavement - Slanted and Enchanted (1992).
5. The Smiths - The Queen is Dead (1986).
6. Pixies - Surfer Rosa (1988).
7. De La Soul - 3 Feet High and Rising (1989).
8. Prince - Sign O' the Times (1987).
9. PJ Harvey - Rid of Me (1993).
10. N.W.A. - Straight Outta Compton (1988).
11. U2 - Achtung Baby (1991).
12. Beastie Boys - Paul's Boutique (1989).
13. Hüsker Dü - New Day Rising (1985).
14. Sonic Youth - Daydream Nation (1988).
15. Liz Phair - Exile in Guyville (1993).
16. Beck - Odelay (1996).
17. Nas - Illmatic (1994).
18. Guns N' Roses - Appetite for Destruction (1987).
19. Hole - Live Through This (1994).
20. Wu-Tang Clan - Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) (1993).
21. Public Enemy - Fear of a Black Planet (1990).
22. My Bloody Valentine - Loveless (1991).
23. Outkast - Stankonia (2000).
24. Sleater-Kinney - Dig Me Out (1997).
25. Nine Inch Nails - The Downward Spiral (1994).
26. Björk - Post (1995).
27. The Cure - The Head on the Door (1985).
28. Oasis - Definitely Maybe (1994).
29. Fugazi - 13 Songs (1989).
30. The Notorious B.I.G. - Ready to Die (1994).
31. Dinosaur Jr. - You're Living All Over Me (1987).
32. The Replacements - Tim (1985).
33. Ice Cube - AmeriKKKa's Most Wanted (1990).
34. Elliot Smith - Either/Or (1997).
35. Dr. Dre - The Chronic (1992).
36. Pixies - Doolittle (1989).
37. Guided By Voices - Bee Thousand (1994).
38. A Tribe Called Quest - The Low End Theory (1991).
39. Lucinda Williams - Lucinda Williams (1988).
40. Run-D.M.C. - Raising Hell (1986).
41. Smashing Pumpkins - Siamese Dream (1993).
42. Jane's Addiction - Nothing's Shocking (1988). I always meant to buy this.
43. Boogie Down Productions - Criminal Minded (1987).
44. Green Day - Dookie (1994).
45. Kanye West - College Dropout (2004).
46. The Fall - The Nation's Saving Grace (1985).
47. Eric B. & Rakim - Paid in Full (1987).
48. Radiohead - Kid A (2000).
49. Lauryn Hill - The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill (1998).
50. New Order - Low-Life (1985).
51. Nirvana - In Utero (1993).
52. Beastie Boys - Licensed to Ill (1986).
53. Rage Against the Machine - The Battle of Los Angeles (1999).
54. The Breeders - Last Splash (1993).
55. The Chemical Brothers - Dig Your Own Hole (1997).
56. PJ Harvey - To Bring You My Love (1995).
57. The White Stripes - White Blood Cells (2001).
58. Metallica - Master of Puppets (1986).
59. Modest Mouse - The Lonesome Crowded West (1997).
60. De La Soul - De La Soul is Dead (1991).
61. Weezer - Pinkerton (1996).
62. Missy Elliott - Supa Dupa Fly (1997).
63. Pavement - Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain (1994).
64. Eminem - The Marshall Mathers LP (2000).
65. Basement Jaxx - Remedy (1999).
66. Outkast - Aquemini (1998).
67. Slayer - Reign in Blood (1986).
68. Tricky - Maxiquaye (1995).
69. DJ Shadow - Entroducing DJ Shadow (1996).
70. Jay-Z - The Blueprint (2001).
71. The Jesus and Mary Chain - Psychocandy (1985).
72. Raekwon - Only Built 4 Cuban Linx (1995).
73. Pulp - Different Class (1995).
74. Portishead - Dummy (1994).
75. Le Tigre - Le Tigre (1999).
76. Belle and Sebastian - If You're Feeling Sinister (1997).
77. Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (2002).
78. The Stone Roses - The Stone Roses (1989).
79. Moby - Everything is Wrong (1995).
80. D'Angelo - Voodoo (2000).
81. Beck - Mellow Gold (1994).
82. Jeff Buckley - Grace (1994).
83. At the Drive-In - Relationship of Command (2000).
84. Soundgarden - Superunknown (1994).
85. R.E.M. - Automatic for the People (1992).
86. Meat Puppets - Up on the Sun (1985).
87. Blur - Parklife (1994).
88. Stereolab - Emperor Tomato Ketchup (1996).
89. Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Fever to Tell (2003).
90. Sonic Youth - Sister (1987).
91. XTC - Skylarking (1986).
92. Big Black - Atomizer (1986).
93. Pearl Jam - Ten (1991).
94. Slint - Spiderland (1991).
95. Elastica - Elastica (1995).
96. The Pogues - Rum, Sodomy and the Lash (1985).
97. Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea (1998).
98. Cornershop - When I Was Born for the 7th Time (1997).
99. Afghan Whigs - Gentlemen (1993).
100. The Strokes - This is It (2001).
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Because I'm petty and can't help myself
I must link to personal ads for women in prison.
Go to this site. Browse some of the ladies in waiting. Do they think they are in a castle, locked in a tower? News honey, YOU'RE IN PRISON. Even if your knight strides up to the gate bearing chocolate and some iron cutters, the guard ain't gonna let you out.
At least the men who are writing to these women know that there is very little competition for their chosen lady's affections. Unless you count the babe named Harley in Cell Block D...
Go to this site. Browse some of the ladies in waiting. Do they think they are in a castle, locked in a tower? News honey, YOU'RE IN PRISON. Even if your knight strides up to the gate bearing chocolate and some iron cutters, the guard ain't gonna let you out.
At least the men who are writing to these women know that there is very little competition for their chosen lady's affections. Unless you count the babe named Harley in Cell Block D...
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Roadside Observation #4
Every workday morning, I drive eastbound on Olive Avenue. I see the typical sites - houses, fields, street signs and chain establishments squished together in sparkling new strip malls. I am privy to a special sight however. A man - he must be well into his 70's - jogs westbound.
I raise my hand and smile to his perpetual wave...his nod to those who share his road. He's a slow streak of blue-gym-short-and-white-sweatband truth.
He is my daily inspiration to do more.
I raise my hand and smile to his perpetual wave...his nod to those who share his road. He's a slow streak of blue-gym-short-and-white-sweatband truth.
He is my daily inspiration to do more.
Monday, July 11, 2005
What you do at 3:42 and you can't sleep
You post the second part of The Dating Remi! Yeaaaaa!
When we left off, Remi was having a chaperoned dessert...
Try being pleasant with a boy who is 8 years your junior while you're eating dinner with his mom and step dad, having only known the boy for less than 48 hours!
I am attempting to be an adult...but not too adult because I don’t want to seem too mature for the mom’s lil baby. By this time I actually think the boy is ok.
I am intrigued by the step father. He has a few…uh…problems?
1. He can’t hear so he practically yells at you when speaking
2. He is never wrong and knows everything and
3. If you don’t finish what’s on your plate he will.
Yes that’s right.
Derek didn’t finish his salad so his step dad did. Derek didn’t eat the tomatoes from his sandwich so his step dad did. Derek’s mom didn’t finish her garlic bread - yep his step dad did.
Quite the smorgasbord of food so far right? Now I'm thinking, what better way to top it all off than with dessert? I order a slice of apple pie a-la-mode I only finish about ½ of it. What do you think happened to the rest of my pie?
He didn’t even ask if I was done. He just assumed. By this time I’m about to pee myself as I try not to laugh too loudly.
Yet I still go to the boy’s place to watch yet another movie - actually it was Dane Cook’s comedy central special. I pull a 10 step maneuver to get into cuddle position as he is hinting. I moved in small “scooches” to see how long it would take - it became a game in my own head. Anyway the end of the evening comes...he walks me to my car. Anticipation....
First the overly long hug...and then the kiss.
The kiss.
He puckered, leaned in, our lips touched. His lips never un-puckered! His head never moved! I was locked in position by his hand behind my head. I swear I must have counted to 10 before the seal was broken.
He text messages me the next day asking me if I enjoyed the kiss. Oh my frickin' stars in heaven -- what do you say to that? It has now been 2 days since and I still have yet to answer his kiss question directly. I am already in deep and its been less than a week. Oh god...oh god...oh god...
Editor's note: What Remi fails to tell you in this part deux, is that she has been to the parents house. It is - in her words - a shrine to Mickey Mouse. You've never seen so many Mickey tchochkes. However, there is no Mickey Mouse inspired food items at the parents house...I'll give you two guesses as to who ate them.
When we left off, Remi was having a chaperoned dessert...
Try being pleasant with a boy who is 8 years your junior while you're eating dinner with his mom and step dad, having only known the boy for less than 48 hours!
I am attempting to be an adult...but not too adult because I don’t want to seem too mature for the mom’s lil baby. By this time I actually think the boy is ok.
I am intrigued by the step father. He has a few…uh…problems?
1. He can’t hear so he practically yells at you when speaking
2. He is never wrong and knows everything and
3. If you don’t finish what’s on your plate he will.
Yes that’s right.
Derek didn’t finish his salad so his step dad did. Derek didn’t eat the tomatoes from his sandwich so his step dad did. Derek’s mom didn’t finish her garlic bread - yep his step dad did.
Quite the smorgasbord of food so far right? Now I'm thinking, what better way to top it all off than with dessert? I order a slice of apple pie a-la-mode I only finish about ½ of it. What do you think happened to the rest of my pie?
He didn’t even ask if I was done. He just assumed. By this time I’m about to pee myself as I try not to laugh too loudly.
Yet I still go to the boy’s place to watch yet another movie - actually it was Dane Cook’s comedy central special. I pull a 10 step maneuver to get into cuddle position as he is hinting. I moved in small “scooches” to see how long it would take - it became a game in my own head. Anyway the end of the evening comes...he walks me to my car. Anticipation....
First the overly long hug...and then the kiss.
The kiss.
He puckered, leaned in, our lips touched. His lips never un-puckered! His head never moved! I was locked in position by his hand behind my head. I swear I must have counted to 10 before the seal was broken.
He text messages me the next day asking me if I enjoyed the kiss. Oh my frickin' stars in heaven -- what do you say to that? It has now been 2 days since and I still have yet to answer his kiss question directly. I am already in deep and its been less than a week. Oh god...oh god...oh god...
Editor's note: What Remi fails to tell you in this part deux, is that she has been to the parents house. It is - in her words - a shrine to Mickey Mouse. You've never seen so many Mickey tchochkes. However, there is no Mickey Mouse inspired food items at the parents house...I'll give you two guesses as to who ate them.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
The Dating Remi
My slightly neurotic (and completely insane) friend sends me a text message asking me if I would be interested in a set up. One of the voices inside my head screamed "NOOOOOO..." as loudly as possible and subsequently ran out of breath, allowing one of the other voices to quietly chant "go for it." Oh holy hell. I had text messaged back “sure, why not?” before I came to my senses.
I stopped to breathe, catch my breath, and bang my head on the closest wall. Once I recovered I got to thinking. Maybe this won’t be so bad. I mean, just because my last and only other “blind date” nearly sank our pedal boat in the middle of the murky skunk smelling lake/pond doesn't mean it will happen again. Nothing could be as bad as that right? I started to think it might even be fun.
The next day, my neurotic/insane friend came over to clean up Bettina's bathroom as she had a night of not-so-quiet "getting to know you" sessions in it. This “friend” calls the blind date boy from my cell phone and then hands me the phone. I was forced to be pleasant. I was forced to act interested...and I was good. That’s right, I was so good in fact that the boy felt the need to text message me endlessly for the remainder of the afternoon. I agree to go see the fireworks with the boy that very night. Again the voice in my head reasoned that fireworks are good on a first date.
I meet the boy, aka Derek, across from the sports complex. I didn’t feel the urge to run and vomit. This was a good sign. However, I confirmed it. He is indeed a boy! I am 30, he is 22. He was born in the same decade as my friend's 15-yr-old daughter!!
Under normal circumstances, I would have turned tail and ran, but I am slightly intrigued. Roxy, my best friend who hosts this blog, is my age and just recently married a 22-yr-old man-boy. There may be hope.
The fireworks are uneventful but not bad. Nice conversation the whole time. Afterward, we watched a movie…again somewhat uneventful so I went home.
The next day the boy is texting me again…ALL day. We decide in one of the 20 million texts that we will go out again that night. I leave work, call him and he informs me he will call back. I wait but continue with my normal daily routine which includes dinner at dinner time. He of course calls back as I’m eating to invite me to dinner. Hell - I wasn’t about to wait pending a possible call from him. I agree to meet him for dessert.
Let me clarify this statement - dessert at the Village Inn…
Oh wait...let me clarify again - dessert at the Village Inn with his parents.
Holy balls I frantically call Roxy, rant, and explain the situation which was received with gut splitting laughter. I had to hang up.
What happens at dessert? Tune in tomorrow for another episode of The Dating Remi when the real fun begins!
Editors comment: I probably wouldn't have laughed so hard at the fact that Remi was meeting this boy's parents on the second date except for the fact that my dear friend Remi gave me nothing but CRAP for dating (and subsequently marrying) a 22-year-old. She also gave me crap about his overprotective parents. All I have to say is paybacks are a bitch...
I stopped to breathe, catch my breath, and bang my head on the closest wall. Once I recovered I got to thinking. Maybe this won’t be so bad. I mean, just because my last and only other “blind date” nearly sank our pedal boat in the middle of the murky skunk smelling lake/pond doesn't mean it will happen again. Nothing could be as bad as that right? I started to think it might even be fun.
The next day, my neurotic/insane friend came over to clean up Bettina's bathroom as she had a night of not-so-quiet "getting to know you" sessions in it. This “friend” calls the blind date boy from my cell phone and then hands me the phone. I was forced to be pleasant. I was forced to act interested...and I was good. That’s right, I was so good in fact that the boy felt the need to text message me endlessly for the remainder of the afternoon. I agree to go see the fireworks with the boy that very night. Again the voice in my head reasoned that fireworks are good on a first date.
I meet the boy, aka Derek, across from the sports complex. I didn’t feel the urge to run and vomit. This was a good sign. However, I confirmed it. He is indeed a boy! I am 30, he is 22. He was born in the same decade as my friend's 15-yr-old daughter!!
Under normal circumstances, I would have turned tail and ran, but I am slightly intrigued. Roxy, my best friend who hosts this blog, is my age and just recently married a 22-yr-old man-boy. There may be hope.
The fireworks are uneventful but not bad. Nice conversation the whole time. Afterward, we watched a movie…again somewhat uneventful so I went home.
The next day the boy is texting me again…ALL day. We decide in one of the 20 million texts that we will go out again that night. I leave work, call him and he informs me he will call back. I wait but continue with my normal daily routine which includes dinner at dinner time. He of course calls back as I’m eating to invite me to dinner. Hell - I wasn’t about to wait pending a possible call from him. I agree to meet him for dessert.
Let me clarify this statement - dessert at the Village Inn…
Oh wait...let me clarify again - dessert at the Village Inn with his parents.
Holy balls I frantically call Roxy, rant, and explain the situation which was received with gut splitting laughter. I had to hang up.
What happens at dessert? Tune in tomorrow for another episode of The Dating Remi when the real fun begins!
Editors comment: I probably wouldn't have laughed so hard at the fact that Remi was meeting this boy's parents on the second date except for the fact that my dear friend Remi gave me nothing but CRAP for dating (and subsequently marrying) a 22-year-old. She also gave me crap about his overprotective parents. All I have to say is paybacks are a bitch...
Friday, July 08, 2005
Guest Author: Remi
(In a voice like Kermit the Frog from the Muppet Show): Please welcome to the stage (er...blog in this case) our special guest author: Remi! Yeaaaaaaaaaaa!
Remi, my best friend of 26 years, recently had a blind date (oooooo, aaahhhh). Since this blog started with my blind date story, I thought it would be fun to feature another one right here at Roxy's World.
Remi's story will appear in installment form on this blog over the next few days. Please stay tuned and feel free to comment.
Remi, my best friend of 26 years, recently had a blind date (oooooo, aaahhhh). Since this blog started with my blind date story, I thought it would be fun to feature another one right here at Roxy's World.
Remi's story will appear in installment form on this blog over the next few days. Please stay tuned and feel free to comment.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Levity
Never did I expect to see Amy and I as men...
Amy and Roxanne - Trailer Crashers
All hail Jeremy, man of many talents, for putting this together.
My dear friend - were you drunk when you thought of this or bored at work? You have outdone yourself with this one.
Amy and Roxanne - Trailer Crashers
All hail Jeremy, man of many talents, for putting this together.
My dear friend - were you drunk when you thought of this or bored at work? You have outdone yourself with this one.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Gwenyth
The girl at the coffee shop looks like Gwenyth Paltrow. Naturally graceful - nose ring, oaky hair and tan frame. Lithe face, unnaturally long fingers. She is beautiful and serves me cream.
I wonder what her life story is...
I wonder what her life story is...
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Friday, June 24, 2005
Feeling Political...
Karl Rove is a jackass. This is not new news. I don't know why I find myself riled everytime I hear a story about how he opened his mouth to spout yet another inane and imbecilic remark. I should be used to his pedomorphic reasoning by now.
Yet I also don't understand why Dems are demanding apologies for Rove's latest hot-quote: "Conservatives saw the savagery of 9/11 and the attacks and prepared for war. Liberals saw the savagery... and wanted to prepare indictments and offer therapy and understanding to our attackers."
And now, Republican back-up sheep are currently baa-ing behind Rove saying that he shouldn't issue an apology and that "he was outlining a philosophical divide between a president who sought to win the war on terrorism by taking the fight to the enemy and Democrats who questioned that approach."
HUH? Nothing like supporting stupid with more stupidity.
I'm sick of Elephants and Donkey's. Quit your bitching, stop attacking each other and actually DO something...like be a leader instead of a kindergartener, perhaps?
Yet I also don't understand why Dems are demanding apologies for Rove's latest hot-quote: "Conservatives saw the savagery of 9/11 and the attacks and prepared for war. Liberals saw the savagery... and wanted to prepare indictments and offer therapy and understanding to our attackers."
And now, Republican back-up sheep are currently baa-ing behind Rove saying that he shouldn't issue an apology and that "he was outlining a philosophical divide between a president who sought to win the war on terrorism by taking the fight to the enemy and Democrats who questioned that approach."
HUH? Nothing like supporting stupid with more stupidity.
I'm sick of Elephants and Donkey's. Quit your bitching, stop attacking each other and actually DO something...like be a leader instead of a kindergartener, perhaps?
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Am I the only one...
who thinks that it is sad that this man is being judged for defecting from the Korean war? I am sure there are many moral arguments here about honesty, duty and honor, but I don't blame this man.
MSN Article
Call me crazy, but I don't believe that people should have to endure the horrors of war and kill other people because their government told them to do so...
And, I'm growing increasingly afraid to be an American after reading this quote about the constitutional ban on flag burning that has already passed the House of Representatives and is headed for final vote in the Senate: ''Ask the men and women who stood on top of the (World) Trade Center,'' said Rep. Randy (Duke) Cunningham, R-Calif. ''Ask them and they will tell you: pass this amendment.''
Read the whole story on
Flag Burning here.
MSN Article
Call me crazy, but I don't believe that people should have to endure the horrors of war and kill other people because their government told them to do so...
And, I'm growing increasingly afraid to be an American after reading this quote about the constitutional ban on flag burning that has already passed the House of Representatives and is headed for final vote in the Senate: ''Ask the men and women who stood on top of the (World) Trade Center,'' said Rep. Randy (Duke) Cunningham, R-Calif. ''Ask them and they will tell you: pass this amendment.''
Read the whole story on
Flag Burning here.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Skive off...
My virtual vacation didn't leave me properly relaxed and refreshed and ready to successfully complete my work week. I am currently contemplating credible reasons to skive off the rest of today:
1. Migraine.
2. Seizure.
3. Uncontrollable need for Buffy the Vampire Slayer marathon.
4. My husband's kidney stone saga.
5. Zombie Tom ate my brain.
6. Broke a nail.
7. Broke all 10 nails.
8. Need to research new career as professional hit woman.
9. It's National Mortician's Day and I must prepare for tonight's double feature!
10. I'm checking into the Betty Ford clinic.
1. Migraine.
2. Seizure.
3. Uncontrollable need for Buffy the Vampire Slayer marathon.
4. My husband's kidney stone saga.
5. Zombie Tom ate my brain.
6. Broke a nail.
7. Broke all 10 nails.
8. Need to research new career as professional hit woman.
9. It's National Mortician's Day and I must prepare for tonight's double feature!
10. I'm checking into the Betty Ford clinic.
Monday, June 13, 2005
My Morning Funny
I laughed myself silly at one of my favorite sites this morning. Drink At Work brings you a list of business etiquette. My faves?
Never convene a department meeting by saying, “Where my bitches at?”
If you find yourself saying, “The Hooters really blew it with their second album” you have strayed too far from business conversation.
Do not use trendy words in office communication. Say “Great” instead of “Awesome,” “Yes” instead of “Yo” and “Feeling Good” instead of “Got the world swinging from my nuts.” (Damn it feels good to be a gangsta)
When maintaining eye contact with a fellow employee, avoid any gaze that may be best described as “penetrating,” “smoldering” or “bloodshot.” (hmmm, done all that)
Go visit the site and read the rest of the list!
Never convene a department meeting by saying, “Where my bitches at?”
If you find yourself saying, “The Hooters really blew it with their second album” you have strayed too far from business conversation.
Do not use trendy words in office communication. Say “Great” instead of “Awesome,” “Yes” instead of “Yo” and “Feeling Good” instead of “Got the world swinging from my nuts.” (Damn it feels good to be a gangsta)
When maintaining eye contact with a fellow employee, avoid any gaze that may be best described as “penetrating,” “smoldering” or “bloodshot.” (hmmm, done all that)
Go visit the site and read the rest of the list!
Saturday, June 11, 2005
Virtual Vacation
On the way to work today, I realized I need a vacation. I contemplated calling in sick, driving to the airport and boarding the next beach-bound flight, but thought that would be a tad irresponsible. I could have spent the day on Mill Avenue for some people watching and shopping at Urban Outfitters (so I can be so original while I shop at a chain store), but instead I'm at work. It's Saturday and I have to be here to help run the Halo 2 tournament. I hate X-Box, why was I picked for this activity?
Since I can have a real getaway, at least I can take a "Virtual Vacation." Today's destination? The Greenbrier.
I just love this place. The grounds are lush and verdant with plenty of places to be cool. The different estates on the grounds are all unique. The interior impeccable. Every room showcases vibrant color schemes.
I feel so swanky when I'm gliding through the expansive hallways with 30-foot alabaster columns. The plush (although sometimes garishly bright) furniture and grand-piano music are just two reasons to never make it past the lobby. All the common areas of this resort are not-so-common. My favorite place of all is the red ballroom. I feel like I've been transported through time to the Victorian Era everytime I step onto the hardwood floor of this particular room.
After I checked in, I dropped my luggage on my bed and headed for some pampering. Since I've felt a little sick to my stomach for the last 24 hours, I know I really need to relax. The best place to do this is the Greenbrier Spa. I nourished my body and soul with a virtual Spa Package. I started with a black walnut scrub, moved to a relaxing Kur bath and then made my way to a hot stone massage and a mani/pedi combo pack. I paid with my Virtual Visa thank goodness...
After reviewing a brief slideshow of the resort in my room (check out this floor plan - I'm virtually livin' in style), I decided to head to the outdoor pool. I like the indoor pool, but am feeling the need for a little sunshine.
Now that I have my martini, I'm ready for a little sunshine. I think I'll arrange a falconry show for later, and then maybe take a carriage ride after dinner.
Tomorrow, I will play chef at cooking class and then go shopping at some of the fabulous Greenbrier shops. I have a tour scheduled right before tea and really think that another massage is in order. I'm going to check out the bunker out as well. There is so much history here!
It's time for me to sink into oblivion here on my VV. If you have any suggestions for future VV's, please let me know. I'm on my way to get Virtually Wasted.
Since I can have a real getaway, at least I can take a "Virtual Vacation." Today's destination? The Greenbrier.
I just love this place. The grounds are lush and verdant with plenty of places to be cool. The different estates on the grounds are all unique. The interior impeccable. Every room showcases vibrant color schemes.
I feel so swanky when I'm gliding through the expansive hallways with 30-foot alabaster columns. The plush (although sometimes garishly bright) furniture and grand-piano music are just two reasons to never make it past the lobby. All the common areas of this resort are not-so-common. My favorite place of all is the red ballroom. I feel like I've been transported through time to the Victorian Era everytime I step onto the hardwood floor of this particular room.
After I checked in, I dropped my luggage on my bed and headed for some pampering. Since I've felt a little sick to my stomach for the last 24 hours, I know I really need to relax. The best place to do this is the Greenbrier Spa. I nourished my body and soul with a virtual Spa Package. I started with a black walnut scrub, moved to a relaxing Kur bath and then made my way to a hot stone massage and a mani/pedi combo pack. I paid with my Virtual Visa thank goodness...
After reviewing a brief slideshow of the resort in my room (check out this floor plan - I'm virtually livin' in style), I decided to head to the outdoor pool. I like the indoor pool, but am feeling the need for a little sunshine.
Now that I have my martini, I'm ready for a little sunshine. I think I'll arrange a falconry show for later, and then maybe take a carriage ride after dinner.
Tomorrow, I will play chef at cooking class and then go shopping at some of the fabulous Greenbrier shops. I have a tour scheduled right before tea and really think that another massage is in order. I'm going to check out the bunker out as well. There is so much history here!
It's time for me to sink into oblivion here on my VV. If you have any suggestions for future VV's, please let me know. I'm on my way to get Virtually Wasted.
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Reap 'Em and Win!
After hours of searching the internet, painstakingly combing through one celebrity article after another, and days of deliberation...I have a team for the Celebrity Death Pool! I also have a twitch in my left eye and a near-rabid need to know all celebrity gossip as it occurs, but I'm sure such side-effects are considered normal.
Roll Call!
Gerald Ford
Elizabeth Taylor
Boris Yeltsin
Victoria Principal
Rosa Parks
Art Linkletter
William Rehnquist
Joe Torre
Charlton Heston
Jason Priestly
Roger Moore
Stephen King
Steven Hawking
Kim Jong-Il
Michael J. Fox
Helen Gurley Brown
Peter O'Toole
Michael Jackson
Death is a sad, albeit natural, occurrence. It is sadistic to root for the demise of an individual. To this I say, "Go Team!"
the death of one person is a tragedy. the death of a group is a statistic.
Roll Call!
Gerald Ford
Elizabeth Taylor
Boris Yeltsin
Victoria Principal
Rosa Parks
Art Linkletter
William Rehnquist
Joe Torre
Charlton Heston
Jason Priestly
Roger Moore
Stephen King
Steven Hawking
Kim Jong-Il
Michael J. Fox
Helen Gurley Brown
Peter O'Toole
Michael Jackson
Death is a sad, albeit natural, occurrence. It is sadistic to root for the demise of an individual. To this I say, "Go Team!"
the death of one person is a tragedy. the death of a group is a statistic.
Monday, June 06, 2005
What I did at work today
1. Wasted Time.
2. Wasted Resources.
3. Contemplated piercing my nose, tongue, belly button and disappearing into underground leather scene.
4. Drank coffee.
5. Called and left syrupy-sweet (quasi-bitchy) message for my lawyer who doesn't return calls.
6. Called and left slightly-less-than-sugary message for Trend Homes customer service about their lack of customer service.
7. Drank more coffee.
8. Downloaded "Avalon" by Juliet. (you should do this too)
9. Checked personal email.
10. Picked candidates for participation in friend's version of "Celebrity Death Pool"
Please feel free to comment on people to include in Death Pool.
2. Wasted Resources.
3. Contemplated piercing my nose, tongue, belly button and disappearing into underground leather scene.
4. Drank coffee.
5. Called and left syrupy-sweet (quasi-bitchy) message for my lawyer who doesn't return calls.
6. Called and left slightly-less-than-sugary message for Trend Homes customer service about their lack of customer service.
7. Drank more coffee.
8. Downloaded "Avalon" by Juliet. (you should do this too)
9. Checked personal email.
10. Picked candidates for participation in friend's version of "Celebrity Death Pool"
Please feel free to comment on people to include in Death Pool.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Today's Life Lesson: Sponsored by Pink Panties
Black skirt with pastel and passion pink polka dots. Average black slip on top with silver buckle. Pink leather flowertopped slides. Pink mother of pearl watch. New Hot Topic Pink Ruffled Bra and Panties with Black Satin Ribbons.
I’m pinky today.
Drive to work and listen to Howard make an ass out of neophyte whore on phone. Laugh hysterically. Arrive at work early - how did this happen, traffic god? Today will be a good day.
Gather things, careen through courtyard in search of coffee and Naked "Protein Zone" juice. Can feel pink panties slightly slip down to hips. Walk to office, stopping to greet co-workers and assistant. Hmmm. I just shrunk these deliberately after purchase two weeks ago.
Close office door. Hike up skirt and pull panties into place.
Knock on office door. "Your clients are here."
"Thanks." Throw open door, smile, sashay to front office (more to keep panties up than to shake attractive butt).
Greet clients. Show them interview rooms. Tour them through hallway toward Starbucks-like coffee cafe. Feel pink panties move to hips. Silently try to use witchcraft powers to inch them upwards. Hope panties don't fall around ankles.
Walk to cafeteria as panties continue to slide south.
Buy bottles of water for clients, show them lounge area, begin trek back to office. In main department doorway, panties rest at tops of thighs.
Skirt is knee-length. All hope is not lost.
If I show them back to interview rooms, panties will fall. If I duck down the hallway to office, I’ll be rude. Oh, life’s little quandaries.
Politely ask gentlemen to wait as I retrieve information for them. Duck into office, throw skirt up, briefly consider trashing panties like I've done so many times before, realize I've only done that while drunk in a bar - there is something inherently wrong with ditching panties at the office unless you are sleeping with the boss - hike panties into place, grab some tape to help reinforce, snatch paperwork from desk, emerge smiling.
Show clients to interview rooms.
Return to office. Wonder how long tape will hold. Consider stapler.
Today's lesson: Brand new pink panties should be worn to the bar, not to the office (unless you are sleeping with your boss).
I’m pinky today.
Drive to work and listen to Howard make an ass out of neophyte whore on phone. Laugh hysterically. Arrive at work early - how did this happen, traffic god? Today will be a good day.
Gather things, careen through courtyard in search of coffee and Naked "Protein Zone" juice. Can feel pink panties slightly slip down to hips. Walk to office, stopping to greet co-workers and assistant. Hmmm. I just shrunk these deliberately after purchase two weeks ago.
Close office door. Hike up skirt and pull panties into place.
Knock on office door. "Your clients are here."
"Thanks." Throw open door, smile, sashay to front office (more to keep panties up than to shake attractive butt).
Greet clients. Show them interview rooms. Tour them through hallway toward Starbucks-like coffee cafe. Feel pink panties move to hips. Silently try to use witchcraft powers to inch them upwards. Hope panties don't fall around ankles.
Walk to cafeteria as panties continue to slide south.
Buy bottles of water for clients, show them lounge area, begin trek back to office. In main department doorway, panties rest at tops of thighs.
Skirt is knee-length. All hope is not lost.
If I show them back to interview rooms, panties will fall. If I duck down the hallway to office, I’ll be rude. Oh, life’s little quandaries.
Politely ask gentlemen to wait as I retrieve information for them. Duck into office, throw skirt up, briefly consider trashing panties like I've done so many times before, realize I've only done that while drunk in a bar - there is something inherently wrong with ditching panties at the office unless you are sleeping with the boss - hike panties into place, grab some tape to help reinforce, snatch paperwork from desk, emerge smiling.
Show clients to interview rooms.
Return to office. Wonder how long tape will hold. Consider stapler.
Today's lesson: Brand new pink panties should be worn to the bar, not to the office (unless you are sleeping with your boss).
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Roadside Observation #3
Monday evening sunset, Litchfield, AZ. The sky was raspberry ice drizzled with plummy-peach syrup. The breeze could be considered cool for the dry, hazy desert. I breath in summer, exhale spring.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Low-Lying Bachus
Rep. Spencer Bachus, R-Ala, Congressman from the 6th District of Alabama, is bored. Most likely his days are spent playing golf, plucking his nose hair and watching Bill Maher for a good laugh or two.
Since it is getting a bit too hot for golf, the Republican needs to find something else to do with his time. Luckily Maher stepped up to the plate.
My response to Spencer Bachus sent in an email earlier today:
I agree with you. The low-lying fruit isn't serving in the military. It is apparently serving as a Congressman in the 6th District in the State of Alabama.
Destroying free speech and lobbying to eradicate a comedic journalist from the air because you don't agree with a JOKE, is true treason.
Perhaps you need to evaluate your priorities.
Since it is getting a bit too hot for golf, the Republican needs to find something else to do with his time. Luckily Maher stepped up to the plate.
My response to Spencer Bachus sent in an email earlier today:
I agree with you. The low-lying fruit isn't serving in the military. It is apparently serving as a Congressman in the 6th District in the State of Alabama.
Destroying free speech and lobbying to eradicate a comedic journalist from the air because you don't agree with a JOKE, is true treason.
Perhaps you need to evaluate your priorities.
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Hauntings...
At 9:00am this Sunday morning, my past caught up with me again.
Approximately 6 years ago, I was part owner in a company called On-Site Plumbing. I went into business with two gentlemen to make scores of money by fixing pipes. I was supposed to be the "brains" of the operation - funding, grants, accounting, PR, marketing, billing, etc.
Things happened - namely one of my business partners was a drunk 90% of the time - and I separated from the business. I'm not going into the gorey details - and there were many - but I will say that I cleared my name from everything - even filed for bankruptcy to kill any and all liability for On-Site.
GMAC sent a representative to my door this morning to repo the On-Site Plumbing van. This is the second time this has happened since I moved to Pheonix. After the last time, I contacted my lawyer in Richmond and we sent a cease and desist order to GMAC. They have been ordered by the court to never contact me again and to go after the bum who is $10,000 in the hole to them and is still in possession of said van: Michael O'Callaghan, the drunk Irishman who truly was the "brains" behind OnSite because he is still missing in action and GMAC is still coming after me.
Not anymore. Since apparently a court order isn't good enough for General Motors Acceptance Corporation, perhaps a law suit will be. And since Mike hasn't had to deal with any of this grief, I believe it is about time for him as well.
So - if you talk to GMAC, tell them I'm suing them for $1 million dollars for going against a court order. If you see Michael M. O'Callaghan - last known address of 15121 Barnesville Road in Boyds, Maryland, tell him I'm coming after him next.
Approximately 6 years ago, I was part owner in a company called On-Site Plumbing. I went into business with two gentlemen to make scores of money by fixing pipes. I was supposed to be the "brains" of the operation - funding, grants, accounting, PR, marketing, billing, etc.
Things happened - namely one of my business partners was a drunk 90% of the time - and I separated from the business. I'm not going into the gorey details - and there were many - but I will say that I cleared my name from everything - even filed for bankruptcy to kill any and all liability for On-Site.
GMAC sent a representative to my door this morning to repo the On-Site Plumbing van. This is the second time this has happened since I moved to Pheonix. After the last time, I contacted my lawyer in Richmond and we sent a cease and desist order to GMAC. They have been ordered by the court to never contact me again and to go after the bum who is $10,000 in the hole to them and is still in possession of said van: Michael O'Callaghan, the drunk Irishman who truly was the "brains" behind OnSite because he is still missing in action and GMAC is still coming after me.
Not anymore. Since apparently a court order isn't good enough for General Motors Acceptance Corporation, perhaps a law suit will be. And since Mike hasn't had to deal with any of this grief, I believe it is about time for him as well.
So - if you talk to GMAC, tell them I'm suing them for $1 million dollars for going against a court order. If you see Michael M. O'Callaghan - last known address of 15121 Barnesville Road in Boyds, Maryland, tell him I'm coming after him next.
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