I love summer
I love Saturdays in the summer, especially. As I wandered from place to place, and crowd to crowd yesterday, I thought This is it. This is my place. I started, as usual, at the Meow, where I sat with D and Freddy; I met Larry at Gladzores and we listened to the Fishes; we met a cool couple, and watched the Meteorologist become more and more intoxicated. Then we walked to the Shanti. Only we forgot the Meteorologist. I actually ran out of fun, not halfway into my Natural Light draft in a waxed paper cup at the Shanti, so we went back to Gladstones and Perry, Larry and Doug went off to watch A half-naked women at the Pageant.
I wandered back to the Meow, where I found Fred in D's green velour jacket and a sombrero. At that moment, the jukebox began to play "Neon Moon" and we danced because I've never danced with anyone in a sombrero before. Procol Harum's "Conquistidor" would have been better, but, alas, sadly not available. Fred made it clear I could come up later if I wanted. I promised to consider his offer and then wandered off to the Hi-Way. Laurie, Connie and the Bob were at the bar. Harold was behind it. The Bob and I wrestled, before he left. It's kind of a shame about the 600 women, really.
Connie, Laurie and I headed back to the Meow (Laurie was on a Mission for Bob) and then to the Shanti. I went to the bathroom, and when I came back, our table was overflowing with Frat boys. Unwilling to hang with the ren, I took refuge at the bar, with Lou and Dave, politely refraining from reminding Laurie that the youngsters were a mere 5 years older than her son. I deserve a medal for that.
Still no Bob. So, the girls and I drove back to the Hi-Way. Fred met me up there. And then, so did Larry and Eric. Fred left to get me an Ultimate Cheeseburger and I met him at the apartment later.
I took a shower. I used his razor to shave my legs (it is an awesome razor--I may have to invest in one myself). I used his coconut-scented shampoo, so I smelled like Tropicana. Unfortunately, Fred does not have A/C in his 2nd story apartment, and I had to call a halt on the activities on account I couldn't breathe. This, of course, made Fred unhappy.
I left. Downstairs, I fumbled with the locks on the back door. The door leading into the bar opened. Kenny, who laughed at me, my hair wet, clothing stuffed in my bag, sneaking down the back stairs at 3 am. "I'm trying to leave," I told him, "if only I could remember the right combination." He helped. As I launched out the door, my face burning with unwarrented embarrassment (after all, his daughter was well-ensconsed in the apartment above Fred's), I heard Pat laugh in the back.
Oh, the humiliation.
Now it's Sunday. I'm going to cook chicken, today, on my Weber kettle. Without Jeff. I've already prepared a tomato and cuke salad with onion and squeeze cilantro. And it isn't even noon yet.
It's raining. Nevertheless, I'm going to brave the water and sit outside. I'm finishing Farewell to Manzanar. I found it buried in one of my bookcases yesterday; I can't believe I've never read it. If you'd asked me, I'd've said I had--I would have meant it and believed it, as well--but nothing about this book is familiar.
Next Saturday, Larry and I are doing the Verizon Challenge thingy; the weekend after that, I'll be in Iowa. I'm actually looking forward to the trip. It's funny. I never would have imagined that I'd ever make the trip from St. Louis to Council Bluffs in a car with my parents again. But I am. It's a shame those Nickerson Farms closed.
I won't be playing the lottery this weekend
think I used up all my luck. The medical oncology inpatient unit held an open house today (the reason for which is still very unclear). I won the raffle, which included a slim cooler and awesome barbeque implements.
Maybe I can talk Jeff into coming back now.
A list. A list. Entries accepted.
Ride, Captain, Ride--Blues Image
I'm Your Captain--Grand Funk
Sloop John B.--Beach Boys
Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald--Gordon Lightfoot
South of Fools--World Party
Southern Cross--CSNY
Cool Change--LRB
Come Sail Away--Styx
A couple of things:
I wanted to make clear that the person I refer to as The Bob is not the same person, nor is related to this, The Bob. It is simply coincidental.
Although I haven't yet received my CD from Mercer, he did send me my "thing" which turned out to be a T-shirt from a place in Old Saybrook, CT called McNulty's Cafe. The significance wasn't lost on me. But anyway, now I have one and you don't.
I had one of those freaky nightmares this morning about some guy who seemed the embodiment of all evil like Horace Pinker in Shocker or Jack in Blacktop or Rusty Nail in Joy Ride. Kind of one of those guys always a clever step ahead of you. (I picked these B-movies on purpose, because that's what it felt like.) Anyway, I woke up sort of freaked out. Had to close the shades on the window above the second-story roof (a second-story roof would be no match for the likes of Horace Pinker). I'm deathly afraid of two things: being buried alive or trapped indefinitely in a small, dark, confined space and SERIAL KILLERS. Especially serial killers who would keep me alive in a small, dark, confined space. Maybe I should see about getting one of those fake teeth with the cyanide capsule, so I wouldn't have to undergo torture at the hands of a psychotic, deranged killer. Maybe I should stop watching all these stupid https://www.jasminlive.mobi movies.
StudBoy (TriBum) may remember a night back in 1996 when I called him in California in the middle of the night so that he could stay on the phone with me after I checked every nook and cranny in my very small apartment to make sure no one was hiding. I even checked under the sink! (You know, in case my inevitable serial killer is a dwarf, or a jockey, or some kind of contortionist. This happened after I saw Seven for the first time. As I left Dawn's house after, I heard "American Girl" on the radio. By the time I got home, I figured it was a sign.
So last night, I had to take one of my dwindling Ativan. And then, I overslept.
Stray advice
If you know anyone whose missing an advice, feel free to give them one:
1) Sometimes you have to conform to the world around you and not force the world to conform to you. The only way to make it work, otherwise, is to be a hermit and eschew all human contact and interaction.
2) Attraction is attraction. Regardless of his orientation. 2 illustrative examples: I know a gay couple who met, not at a gay bar, but at Blueberry Hill. I asked them once, how that works, when you aren't in an environment where one can assume safely that the other has the same sexual orientation. John said, "Do you ask every man you're attracted to if he's straight? You can tell when the attraction is mutual." Another: Melissa Etheridge met Julie Cypher when Julie was married to Lou D. Phillips. The three of them were friends, but eventually the mutual attraction between Melissa and Julie won out over her marriage (I read this in an RS article, I think). In neither case was the question, "Are you gay?" necessary.
3) A simple, "I'm sorry" is usually the best way to apologize. Peppering your apology with rationalizations only adds insult to injury and, in effect, renders it insincere.
4) If she looks like a crackhead, walks like a crackhead and talks like a crackhead, AND she disappears for days at a time, AND she knows where to get the crack, she's probably the crackhead everyone says she is. That you've never done crack yourself, should not be an excuse for your ignorance of her habit. Lose her already.
5) Breakups hurt. Especially if 1) you did the breaking up and 2) you dumped her for another jasminelive woman. Yes, it may take more than a year for her to become your friend again, but likely she will. Be patient.
6) Dulce et decorum est pro patria mora: just ask the ball turret gunner. And then ask these people for what country they died.
7) Art Bell is not a valid news source.
8) Buying me drinks will make me like you. Buying me CDs will make me like you more.
I had to leave
My diet allows me to occasionally eat fast food. One of my allowable menu items is a fresco-style bean burrito. I had one last night. Honestly? I think it may be better than the original. Instead of cheese and sauce, the burrito is topped with a cilantro-laden salsa.
The Bob proudly informed me last night that he has had sex with more than 600 women. Why you'd tell someone this, I do not know, but it gave me the heebie jeebies. And I have never used the phrase "heebie jeebies" before in my life, so that tells you how disgusting it felt just hearing this.
Laurie said she'd be willing to be 601.
I honestly can't remember the last time I heard Madonna's "Burning Up" on the radio. Certainly it was 198x. Wow.
This takes me back. Jeez, what was I? Fourteen??? There's something more nostalgic about hearing retro songs on the radio.
I ordered CDs today
The new Forbert, the new Slaid Cleaves and something I heard reviewed on All Things Considered yesterday: A Grand Don't Come for Free by The Streets (Mike Skinner). I haven't purchased any new (or old) music since my huge spree back in December (I still haven't listened to all of those yet).
So yeah, I'm excited.
Since today is the anniversary of the day I Met My (Ex) Boyfriend in a Liquor Store, I thought I'd provide Kate with the non-fictional details. The truth is never as interesting as the fiction, though.
Larry and I are still considering GWAR, but I don't think we'll make it, somehow.
In case you missed a live broadcast of this (I heard some on my way into work this morning), here's the staff statement from the 11th Public Hearing of the 9/11 Commission, which covered the emergency response by the NYPD, FDNY and Port Authority Police on September 11th. It's a compelling.
The other hearings can be found here.
I am determined to lose weight. I'ma start with 15 lbs and go from there.
I mean, I could lose 15 lbs with my eyes closed (although I imagine it would be easier with my hands tied behind my back, too).
UPDATE: so, I, too, joined eDiets--thanks to KittyMama. I needed something that would not only plan meals for me, but create shopping lists. I like the flexibility and convenience, as well (I mean, I KNOW I'm going to end up in the D/T at Taco Bell at least once a week--it gives me options for that). The only thing I wish it offered was a button to indicate that you do not want that meal selection/recipe offered again (it's time consuming to change your chaturbate menu).
Call me insane, call me what you will, but I really want to go to the GWAR show on Wednesday night. I'm afraid, however, that the show won't even start until midnight, and, um, I'm WAY past the age where I can stay up that late on a school night. (And work the next day). Pussy that I am, I couldn't even hang with Eric and BBD Saturday, after the Hi-Way closed. I skipped out on the way to DBs, because I knew that would lead to breakfast at Billie's. (I guess in this case, I can't use age as an excuse since E's my age and BBD is 10 years older.).
The first I'd ever heard of GWAR I was in Columbia in '01 visiting a friend who lived there. One night we went to some very strange, very dark, very dark bar. One of the TVs showed some strange talk show hosted by GWAR. It was sufficiently spooky and unreal and I've wanted to see them live ever since (they play music of a sort, right? I'm fascinated by the regalia and schtick, myself).
Looks like it is not going to happen again.
Changing the subject (just barely), on my way back from my mother's office, I saw a notice posted near the elevator bank on the 7th floor: "Annual Infectious Disease Photos. ." All I could think was, "Ewwwww..."
I had a strange weekend
I went to the zoo with my mom and my nephew
He's actually pretty cute
He loved the otters
And the woodchuck
And the sheep
Anything behind glass
Or fencing
He was completely oblivious to the goats
One tried to eat his shirt
And he couldn't have been more indifferent
First the Bob
Then a Tom
(No, it's nothing like you're thinking)
Saturday I had a lot of fun
With the Posse
At the Shanti
Then the Hi-Way
I felt like I cheated on Eric
When I played with Tom
Larry goes at it like a battering ram
(this is shuffleboard, mind you).
The guy I cancelled on
Thursday
Called me this morning
I hit the ignore button
He left a message.
It says this:
Mark? David.
Call me on my cell phone
When you get this message
Okay? Bye.
Odd. My name isn't Mark.
Some people know this about me,
Some don't.
I don't let anyone have any sections of my newspaper
Until after I have read it
I go nuts if people start grabbing at it
Except for the sports page
I'm happy to give that up
If someone asks
(I'm not likely to read it anyhow).
Today, I registered for my own MyESPN page
So that I can follow the Cards, the Cubs,
The Rams, the Salukis
And because I could pick 5 teams:
The Pacers
Note the lack of hockey teams.
After 6 years, I came clean to SAM
And confessed that I don't like hockey
I felt better, but he did not.
Still waiting for my CD...
...Someone went to the Prince concert
And now I have my own copy
Of Musicology.
I haven't listened to it yet.
Is it any good?
I also have a Hypnotique glow stick
And a hacky sack.
I don't glow and I don't hacky
Yet.
I can't listen to Ryan Adam's Heartbreaker album
Without crying
It reminds me of the long days right after
I lost my last job
Right after Jeff and I met
The period when things began to change
I'd sit in my window seat after he left for work
And listen to that CD
It was the beginning of the Dark Time
From which we never really recovered.
Also, now, it reminds me of Jeff
It's a sad album, anyhow
I think.
I've missed Jeff lately
Alot.
But when I think about it, sometimes
It's not the Jeff of last June I miss
But the Jeff of those early days
I can't believe it has been nearly a year since
We broke up.
I'm going to Iowa in June
Aren't you jealous?
All my friends are going to be strangers.