Monday, October 17

Technological Difficulties

[Technological Difficulties]

My 'puter finally died, I think. I'm going to try to work on it for a bit, but I'm unsure whether I'll be able to rescue my data.

Please assume that I
  • haven't been posting because of intermittent difficulties
  • won't be checking blogs or news as much, as it's difficult to do so from work
  • have lost your contact data and that you should contact me again
  • won't be able to post very regularly for a bit, as it's difficult to do so from work
So sad. So very sad.

Sunday, September 18

2005 Week 2 Football Picks

[2005 Week 2 Football Picks]

In order of confidence:
  • Steelers over Texans
  • Falcons over Seahawks
  • Chiefs over Raiders
  • Lions over Bears
  • Patriots over Panthers
  • Dolphis over Jets
  • Cowboys over Redskins
  • Buccaneers over Bills
  • Ravens over Titans
  • Cardinals over Rams
  • Packers over Browns
  • Colts over Jaguars
  • Broncos over Chargers
  • Saints over Giants
  • Eagles over 49ers
  • Vikings over Bengals
I tied for second place last week with 82 points. The winner —whose picks I made as a favor by picking his favored Jets as the 16, and all the home teams as a straight 15-through-one for the remainder— had 84 points. He's promised a black iPod Nano for my trouble. We'll see whether he delivers.

Friday, September 9

2005 Week 1 Football Picks

[2005 Week 1 Football Picks]

In order of confidence:
  • Bills over Texans
  • Steelers over Titans
  • Chargers over Cowboys
  • Vikings over Buccaneers
  • Patriots over Raiders
  • Eagles over Falcons
  • 49ers over Rams
  • Dolphins over Broncos
  • Redskins over Bears
  • Panthers over Saints
  • Lions over Packers
  • Chiefs over Jets
  • Cardinals over Giants
  • Browns over Bengals
  • Seahawks over Jaguars
  • Colts over Ravens
The first week is always so hard. We'll see.

Thursday, September 8

Thursday, September 1

Eradicating Joey

[Eradicating Joey]

I had a conversation with a friend a few weeks ago that I've been consistently reminded of since. I'd asked her about her weekend plans, and she told me that she intended to "eradicate Joey" [not his real name].

She was in the process of breaking up with this Joey, a long-term on-and-off sometimes-long-distance boyfriend, and no, she wasn't going to kill him . . . . she was, somewhat like Dr. Mierzwiak's minions in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, going to attempt to eradicate the detritus of a relationship so that there were no clues.

Since we had that conversation, I've been thinking about how much less [for lack of another word] romantic my habits have become. Should Dr. Mierzwiak's crew come into my home to eradicate the detritus of some relationship, it would be easy for them: a few tchotchkes, a few pieces of clothing, a few notes, a few computer files . . . . done.

I remembered how much of an effort it was when I went through processes like that in the past. I remember leaving a boyfriend a long time ago, and taking with me not only everything that was mine, but also everything I ever gave him, everything he ever gave me, everything we purchased together, everything that I thought would remind him of me . . . . and trashing all of it.

Not that I would wish to do that now. I'm not anticipating such a loss in my life. And, if I did sometime in the future, I don't anticipate wanting to remove everything. During the last major breakup I had, I just put the "scary things" in an antique hard-shelled suitcase so I didn't have to see them, but I'd know they'd be available if I wanted to see them later. When I was stronger / had more perspective, some of those things were released from scary-storage, and I was glad that I had them.

What's made me sad while thinking of all this is that I have so little to remind me of almost anyone, even the most important people in my life. I've seen the homes and cubes and cars of other people. I've noticed how some of them have, like I once had, so many reminders. And, I'm wondering when I became like this — how I started getting fewer, giving fewer, and keeping fewer mementos — and what I've lost of myself in the process.

Sunday, August 28

56% Nerdy, 17% Sexy, 17% Whimsical, 7% Sassy, and 3% Cruel

[56% Nerdy, 17% Sexy, 17% Whimsical, 7% Sassy, and 3% Cruel]

Continuing on the earlier Geek / Nerd / Dweeb Thread . . . .

According to the test at OKCupid, I am a Nerd. Or, more correctly, I am 56% Nerd, 26% Geek and 17% Dork. Their numbers, perhaps due to rounding, are off by 1%. Regardless, they must be wrong, I mean I'd admit to being 56% Nerdy, if I could round it out with 17% Sexy, 17% Whimsical, 7% Sassy, and [sadly, but honestly] 3% Cruel.

Anyway, according to them:
  • A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia.
  • A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one.
  • A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions.
Their definition for Dork is somewhat like my definition for Dweeb. Only Dweeb is more louder.

Thanks to JPB.

Saturday, August 27

Time to Click Around

[Time to Click Around]

I've not had [taken] the time to click around the interweb much this summer. Work has been harsh [I worked, for example, fifty-eight hours this past week and sixty-seven hours the previous week — God I miss paid OT], I had a rough bout of likely-topical-prescription-medicine-induced depression, I have become addicted to Sudoku, and I generally wilt in the horrible heat.

Today I had [took] time. Notable: I can't connect them all. If you can, you'll have my unending adoration [which does not actually include ))<>(( forever]. That's all for now.

Wednesday, August 24



I just got the highest Scrabble score I've ever had.

I got two bingos in a row to start [amazing! that's never happened before] and had a bit of a bad run in the middle, including a lost challenge. But. Still. This increases my average [which I think is in the mid-260s] a bit.


Okay. That's all for now. And, no, my like of Scrabble does not mean you can call me a dweeb. I'm a geeky girl, or, perhaps, a nerdy chick, thank you very much.

Kisses all around . . . .

Wednesday, August 17

The Right Word | Random Thought

[The Right Word Random Thought]

We need to bring back the term dweeb. Dweeb is a very useful term. Recently I've found it to be the right word to describe a few people. It shouldn't be confused with geek or nerd, because geeks can be sexy, and nerds can be cute . . . . but dweebs? Not so much.

Moving on . . . .
I heard some people talking while I was walking from the train to work about what was narcissistic. One said that having photos of yourself all over your office was narcissistic, the other one said that Googling yourself was narcissistic. I wanted to say that sniffing your own panties before you masturbate was narcissistic . . . . but I lost my nerve.

Saturday, July 23

Je suis une Américaine Ignorante

[Je suis une Américaine Ignorante]

Well, actually, I placed France correctly in this puzzle. And, I placed a little over half of the countries correctly or almost correctly. But, on average I was off by 158 miles. And, like any puzzle, it gets easier after you've placed a few pieces.

Thursday, July 14

Friday, May 13

[Happy Friday the 13th]

[Happy Friday the 13th]

You may think that Friday the 13th is always unlucky. However, it seems that the first one each year is now the important holiday Blame Someone Else Day.

Sadly, some folks need more than one of those a year, and there are some years where there aren't any.

Monday, May 2

Head in the Sand

[Head in the Sand]

I've been trying to avoid the news, because it's just so infuriating. But, I can't avoid it. It's freaking everywhere.

I wish they'd just put that runaway bride bitch in jail and make her pay for the cost of the search, because whatever her problem, it's absurd to make any of the taxpayers fund the misguided solution, regardless of whether she's very, very sorry.

I wish I hadn't expected Lynndie to be contrite.

I've been wondering whether a neoluddite stance might be appropriate considering the focus of science, especially considering the progress of chimera creation, exploding mobile phones, and nanotech/nanobiotech.

I've been struggling with my allergies, and ruing the day when I'll have to be registered just to take a fucking Drixoral.

At least the South Carolina legislature tried to to make up for the huge fuckup from a few weeks ago when they had decided that cockfighting was more heinous than domestic abuse. A sensible breakdown of the whole debacle can be found at Ms Musings.

Oh well, I guess none of that will matter much anyway if TEOTWAWKI is finally approaching with with the naming of the new pontiff. If this pontificate lasts only a few years, that will bring the next one in enough time to accommodate the end of the world according to the Long Count on either 21 December 2012 or 11 October 2011 depending upon who is asked.

Hopefully sometime before that, somebody will make cute t-shirts in v-neck styles.


There was some good news. Apparently Google's new algorithms will be more likely to lead you to what you want. Maybe they'll lead me to a cute shirt.

Thursday, April 14

Play Catch Up

[Play Catch Up]

It's been a busy few weeks.

Last week I was working a lot preparing for a few off-site events and attempting to get ahead enough to take off a few days.

Last weekend / this week I went to Graceland and Mud Island. I visited the Theater of Contemplation.

Since I've been back, I've done basically nothing but semi-successfully work out some bugs on my computer, watch the colorful mind-numbing machine [including, embarrassingly enough, Timecop: The Berlin Decision and Revelations], and crochet a long-overdue present.

I haven't even fully unpacked.

Tomorrow, I get to go to work and try to play catch up.

I wish I could just lounge for the rest of the week.

Saturday, April 2

Non Habemus Papam

[Non Habemus Papam]

Yes, gentle readers, currently, the office of the Bishop of Rome, Vicar of Jesus Christ, Successor of the Prince of the Apostles, Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church, Patriarch of the West, Primate of Italy, Archbishop and Metropolitan of the Roman Province, Sovereign of the State of the Vatican City, Servant of the Servants of God is vacant.

This is affecting me more than anticipated, largely because I so closely identify my Catholic upbringing with my father who died when I was seventeen. This deluge of memories is heartwrenching: learning to say my prayers kneeling at the side of my bed as a very small girl, learning to say the rosary, attending Mass each Sunday, First Act of Contrition, First Holy Communion, Confirmation, weddings and funerals, baptisms and last rites.

Euchre | Pickle Soup | Your Taxi

[Euchre | Pickle Soup | Your Taxi]

I went out for beers after work today even though I didn't work at the office. We played Euchre, and although it had been years since I last played, my teammate and I took two outta three.

Then, I took a taxi home. My driver was speaking Polish, and I asked him about it. We talked about my long-deceased Polish Grandma and about Polish food. He was terribly sweet. He recommended that I go to Andrzej Grill and try the [and I'm pretty sure I got this right] pickle soup. I don't know about that, but I'm fully willing to try beet salad with horseradish, the pork chops, the stuffed potato pancakes and the pierogis.

Speaking of taxis, Google has a new tool that makes me wish I had always-on always-available mobile internet access.

[Yeah, I know that I'm failing miserably in the segue department.]

Time for bed.

Thursday, March 31



I have a friend who is a sports-loving rugged boy, but is scrupulously clean and impeccably groomed. He's a beer-drinking man's man, but is manscaped.

In the beginning of our relationship, I found it curious and shocking to watch him interact with people. His behavior was just so different from that of the men I was accustomed to being around.

He always holds the door open for the person following him — regardless of whether he's with that person, regardless of that person's gender and regardless of that person's age — provided that person is within six-or-so seconds of reaching the door.

He always gives up his seat on the train to someone who ostensibly needs it [on a related note, I almost got into a fight a few days ago when I asked two young women whether one of them was injured or impaired and that was the reason they weren't giving up a seat to the elderly woman standing near them].

As for his relationship with me, I have never opened a door when unless he was carrying something heavy; he has never failed to help me with my coat; I have never gotten into a car that he was driving when he didn't open my door first; he generally pulls out my chair for me at restaurants. He seemingly effortlessly does all of these things for all the other women around him as well.

My early feminist training encouraged me to believe that such actions were the marks of misogynists, that they were [at least signifiers for] control mechanisms and we should always be wary of those who act this way.

But I'm older now, and I have points of comparison. And, I can tell you that I know that he's not a misogynist — and I've been around a few blocks and can identify many varieties of those including the gen-x and hipster breeds that work so hard to pretend that they're not.

I realized today that knowing him has affected the way that I judge other people. I realized that — for good or ill — when it comes to what I consider polite behaviors of a certain type, I hold the actions of others against that benchmark.

Of course, I have other benchmarks too: as smart as, as tall as, as hung as, as attentive as, as talented as, as kind as, as whatever as. But, I didn't realize that I had this one.

Sunday, March 27

Channeling Julia

[Channeling Julia]

I like to cook. I frequently don't cook because I'm busy, overworked, and, perhaps more importantly, I live alone. It's not as much fun to cook for one, and recipes — especially the ones I have — tend to be for many.

But, I'm getting back into it. Recently I've made chili, split pea soup and chicken soup. Last night, I went to the grocer with the intention to make my week easier. The plan was
  • modified pasta carbonara with chicken and bacon for last night's dinner [salad on the side]

  • chicken, broccoli and cheddar quiche for lunches and dinners throughout the week

  • chicken broth for quick soups and such throughout the week

  • banana bread for this morning's breakfast [which was to be served, and was served, with mascarpone and bacon]
All went as planned. The carbonara was very tasty. The quiche is in the oven. The broth is in variously sized containers in the fridge. The banana bread is half gone.

I can't help thinking that we'd all be happier and more balanced if we did this consistently. Many of us only eat crummy food on a regular basis because there's nothing else to eat.

Monday, March 21

Being a Girl

[Being a Girl]

It's been stuck in my head for days because of that new Gap campaign . . . . 
When I have a brand new hairdo
With my eyelashes all in curl,
Well, I float as the clouds on air do.
I enjoy being a girl!

When men say I'm cute and funny
And my teeth aren't teeth, but pearl,
Well, I just lap it up like honey.
I enjoy being a girl!
And, damnit, as much as I consider myself a feminist, I do enjoy being a girl. A girly girl. I like baubles and bangles and barrettes. I like glances and grins. I like irresponsibly high heels. I like being coy as much as I like to strut. I like flirting. I like always having my nails — fingers and toes — polished. I like having men open doors for me, and I like being smiled at when I hold open doors for them. I like to giggle. I like unsolicited neck rubs. I like lip gloss. And, I really like tops that are obviously chosen to enhance my not insubstantial cleavage.

Is that so wrong?

Wednesday, March 9



Recently, I've witnessed:
  • half-assed drag racing on side streets
  • titles on business cards that can't fit on a line
  • über-mächtig laptops resting inactively on tables at coffee shops
I used to wonder whether such men [and, yes I recognize that some women engage in such behaviors, but all I've seen recently were men] realize that the reaction that they'll likely get from smart women is "you sad, short-dicked little man".

I've come to believe that they do realize this. They simply aren't interested in smart women.

So, rather than be annoyed when witnessing such behaviors, I'm beginning to be pleased by them. I'm pleased that they're signifying their stance so strongly. It's good for society at large that they're so obvious.

Friday, March 4



I'd played the game online quite a few times, and found it fascinating. I just went in to talk to my boss, and although he was on the phone, he pointed to a present for me. It's the pocket version. It's so cool.

Tuesday, March 1

Lift the Data as Easily as You Lifted the Laptop

[Lift the Data as Easily as You Lifted the Laptop]

Yes, there shall be an substantive post soon.

I really don't have a good excuse. I mean, yeah, I've been busy with work. And, I was away this weekend. And, I lost my wallet. And, I have had a long bout of the sniffles. But, none of that means I was unable to post. I've just been lazy.

Le big sigh.

Saturday, February 19

Oh My Goodness, Becky

[Oh My Goodness, Becky]

Baby Got Bible. Yeah, they went there.

[Thanks to the lovely Sheri.]

Sooty and Grey

[Sooty and Grey]

The city looks so tired toward the end of the winter. Everything looks sooty and grey. The signs are all wrong: Howl at the m, Red Lob, Toy ta, R DHEA Piano Bar, Barne li's Pasta Bowl.

I'm feeling grey and sooty as well. Not that I'm actually grey —of all the product-correctable concerns I have, I thankfully don't have to deal with that one— I just feel end-of-winter dingy. And, I think, maybe my signs are off too, because people just don't seem to get what I think I'm projecting: kindness is misinterpreted as snarkiness, sarcasm is taken too seriously, general hurry is seen as a personal affront.

Hopefully, my signs will take less time to correct than those of the aforementioned venues.

Monday, February 14

It's V-Day Too

[It's V-Day Too]

One of the Big Thoughts I've been having recently is that I should be more involved. It's not much of an involvement to wear my V-Day tank top, but it would have been some effort. Not that I could have worn it to the office anyway: I'm showing enough cleavage as it is and I'm pretty sure that my breasts in a tank top would be such an affront to the dress code arbiters that I'd get my butt kicked out.


Maybe next year.

Happy Valentine's Day

[Happy Valentine's Day]

This Valentine's Week I intend to follow Rob Brezsny's Advice and be mindful of this quote from Delmore Schwartz:
Love is the most difficult and dangerous form of courage.
Courage is the most desperate, admirable, and noble kind of love.
I also intend to be mindful of its implied opposite: hate is weakness.

Sunday, February 13



I had a rather domestic weekend, which is something considering how domestically impaired I tend to be. Now, I can cook and bake, and I have fun in the kitchen rather regularly, but I have issues with the rest of it: the cleaning part. I've never been good at it, even as a child I was terribly messy.

The cleaning part sometimes infringes upon the cooking and baking part, when you have no place to cook and can locate neither the recipes nor the spices, it becomes a chore to make anything. But, I persevered: I made the Sour Cream Banana Bread and the Multi-Bean Chili con Carne even though I could find neither recipe. I tweaked a recipe I found online for the Banana Bread and I just winged it with the Chili. The spices are a little off, there might be too much cumin and not enough heat, but it's still pretty good.

I also spent a considerable amount of time dusting and straightening, but it seems that what I largely did was move the mess around. I think it's time to purge.

For a while, every time I had too much stuff, I got more space. This went on until about 5 years ago when I downsized from a 3,300 square foot apartment to a 750 square foot apartment . . . . with a roommate. I really purged then. 17 dumpsters worth of purging. But, since then, I've not purged much at all. When I moved, I moved all the crap with me. I have Daytimer supplies that I'll never use, mismatched undergarments that don't get worn, CDs I rarely listen to, hundreds of pens I don't use, clothing that's radically out of style, baskets with nothing in them that are collecting dust atop my kitchen cabinets, cards for stores and clubs that I don't intend to frequent, stuffed animals in a bin in the back of a closet, paint that will likely never get put on a wall.

The premise under which I intend to proceed is that I shall be less domestically impaired if I have less stuff. We'll see.

Monday, January 31

Let's Talk About Sex

[Let's Talk About Sex]

There's been a lot of sex in the news recently, gentle readers. And, the most of the stories were depressing . . . .

First, let's consider the teenagers:
  • Our government has stated that abstinence programs prevent teens from having sex, but, they’re wrong.

  • If a teen, unprepared for the consequences of sex because of her narrowly-focused abstinence-only sex education, becomes pregnant, someone — perhaps a trusted aunt or older sister — assisting her in obtaining an abortion may, if the Child Custody Protection Act becomes federal law, serve up to a year in prison.
Of course, tolerance is a continuing issue:If all that's not enough to ponder, there are the stories about sexual offenders:Time for for some distracting TV and a really bad snack.

Saturday, January 29

Mea Culpa

[Mea Culpa]

I dislike talking to people when all I can think to do is whine, and so, when I'm feeling particulary crappy, I tend to avoid contact. I feel that I shouldn't call if all I'm going to do is complain.

This morning I awoke less depressed and less skittish —  for many reasons including but not limited to the end of a long, slow reorg at my company.

And I started thinking about all of the people with whom I've been out of touch. So, I started apologizing to everyone I've been neglecting. I wrote emails. I called people. I posted on boards I'd not visited in some time. The general message was that I'm sorry I've been out of touch and that I'd like to be in touch.

This afternoon, I've become saddened by a new thought: I fear that for some of my relationships this contact is too late. I was too neglectful for too long, said "no" to too many offers, failed to call too many times when I claimed I would, didn't feel like talking too many times when they called me.

And now, I don't think there's much I can do about it.

Tuesday, January 25

Just One Coffee

[Just One Coffee]

I've been claiming that I usually have just one coffee beverage a day. This is technically true. I just haven't been specifiying that the beverage is a Grande Quad-Shot Latté Brevé. Jeeeesh, do I feel tweaky.

Sunday, January 23

Nail Biting

[Nail Biting]

I can't watch the game. I mean, I'm kinda watching the game [wearing a boy beater because I can't find my Bettis shirt] wandering in and out of the room. If New England wins, I shall be inconsolable.

Saturday, January 22



Since late yesterday, on about every other call I receive, there's an echo where I can hear what I'm saying a fraction of a second after I say it. This is unnerving. I have to hang up and call back.

I dislike the sound of my voice: to me, it sounds mid-toned but too deep for the girlish lilt; snarky but cute with Midwestern/standard-trans-Atlantic pronunciations but a Northeastern nasality. I feel terribly self conscious when I hear it.

It makes me wonder whether I should listen to it more, so that I have a better understanding of what I sound like to others. But, the thought listening to a recording of myself conversing makes me edgy and nervous: I want to know but I fear that knowing would make me embarrassed and prone to affectation.

It makes me wonder whether any individual likes the sound of his or her own voice.

Thursday, January 20

Lovely Day

[Lovely Day]

I spent this afternoon and evening with one of the most wonderful women I know. We kvetched over the coronation. We commiserated about work. We went to a salon where I got a super sassy Mia-Farrow-in-Rosemary's-Baby-short haircut. We had sushi with hot saki. We had cocktails and kvetched and commiserated more. Then, I came home. Lovely day, really.

Tuesday, January 18

Let it Snow | Let it Snow | Let it Snow

[Let it Snow | Let it Snow | Let it Snow]

Well, I hadn't been paying attention enough to see this coming:

Tonight's Low = 23°F

Tomorrow's High = 31°F

Tomorrow Night's Low = 21°F

Thursday's High = 26°F

Thursday Night's Low = 16°F

Friday's High = 24°F

Friday Night's Low = 16°F

Saturday's High = 24°F

I think I'm going to regret having not gotten around to buying new snowboots. Perhaps I'll make it to Saturday . . . .

Monday, January 17



I was out shopping yesterday, and I purchased, against the guidance of my companion, a 10X magnifying mirror. I thought it would be helpful in plucking my eyebrows: the magnifying mirror I already had was only a 5X, and I was bound to be missing something.

Well, I was missing a lot. A lot of tiny little hairs all over the place. Pores that needed cleansed. Teensy rough spots. I don't see myself going as overboard on the cleansing as I've gone before, but I'm trying not to be obsessive about this, and it's difficult.

I realize that no one is going to notice these flaws unless they're looking at me with a 10X magnifying glass, but it doesn't matter because now I know that they exist.

Why does it matter? Why are these things so annoying to me, even though I wouldn't have known about them at all if I hadn't purchased the mirror?

Something to think about . . . .

Thursday, January 13

Prerequisite | Perquisite

[Prerequisite | Perquisite]

For various reasons — including but not limited to some rather pointed questions — I've been pondering what makes people sexually compatible.

I've glibly stated that when it comes to sexual compatibility a big cock is a prerequisite and not a perquisite [I heard something similar once, I forget where, about a big diversified portfolio]. But, and this is a really big but, that's not entirely true. And, even if were true — for me or for the portfolio seeker — it couldn't be the biggest prerequisite.

Let's back up a bit . . . . 

The things that make two individuals sexually attractive to one another are not necessarily the same things that will make those people sexually compatible, and it takes a bit of trial and error to figure that out.

Many people aren't honest with themselves about their preferred attributes and they go about seeking the supposed preferred attributes of their peers [or the prime preferred attributes featured in the media].

Although new-crush lust can carry almost any pairing through an initial [and, perhaps, more than a few subsequent] interactions, once these individuals are adjusted to the pheromone levels and the endorphins wear off, the presence or lack of each one's preferences will become an issue.

The things that will make two individuals sexually compatible with one another are not all — particularly one's not-publicly visible grooming preferences and body particularites and one's predilections — ascertainable through non-sexual interactions. It is difficult, for example, to ascertain the trim of a chick's bikini line or whether her breasts are natural, or the size of a guy's cock, just by looking at them. It's even more difficult to ascertain the predilections of an individual without point-blank questioning that would — in many if not most cases, especially if this happens quite early in a pair's interactions — be met with either answers that are crafted for the questioner [if not outright lies] or with silence and offence.

Even if predilections are aligned, there are the issues of timing and frequency. Let's say that a couple agrees on their like or dislike of a whole list of practices: positions, locations, bondage, use of toys, oral sex, anal sex, etcetera. If one person wants something on this list occasionally, and the other one wants it every night and three times on Saturday, there will undoubtedly be issues. If one person likes to fuck in the morning, and the other one hates it, there will be issues. If one person needs to relax before having sex and the other one likes to have sex to become relaxed, there may be issues.

[I hear some of you thinking aloud, gentle readers, that compromises can be made. I don't think so. This may be the type of situation where compromise means that nobody gets what they really want.]

Even if all that appears to be aligned, no matter how prepared one believes one is, no matter how well one has gotten one's hopes up, and even if everything else works out — all of the other things that would make a couple good friends and partners outside of the bed, perhaps including but not limited to being in love — sometimes, it still just doesn't work out. Why? Because of the presence or lack of some undefinable prerequisite. The biggest prerequisite.

Without knowing what that is, I don't know how one can determine whether one will be sexually compatible with another person in the long run without just trying . . . . and running the risk of being befuddled and disappointed.

Monday, January 10



There are questions one cannot answer truthfully:
  • Isn't that the most beautiful wedding gown you've ever seen?
    Uh, no, it's garish.

  • Isn't that the best spaghetti sauce?
    Uh, isn't that tomato soup?

  • Don't you just love the way he's decorated?
    Uh, no, it looks like somebody barfed sunflowers.

  • Isn't that pretty?
    Uh, are you smoking crack?

  • Isn't she the most beautiful baby you've ever laid eyes on?
    Uh, no, well, maybe except for that gigantic flat spot on the side of her head.

  • Isn't he just the sweetest?
    Uh, he's an ass, he's always been an ass, and he talks about the size of your ass when you're not around.
I realize that there are times when these questions are asked sarcastically, with tongue planted firmly in cheek and with the expectation that the respondent will banter in kind. I get that.

What I don't understand is anyone would ask these questions guilelessly: why do you ask a question that will force the responder to lie? Is your need for praise so extreme that you don't care whether the praise is honest?

False compliments disgust me. And the people who seek them? I used to think they deserved our pity. Now, I'm beginning to think they just deserve our honesty.

Thursday, January 6

Nous Sommes des Singe-Porcs

[Nous Sommes des Singe-Porcs]

I got a bit drunk last night. It was my first day back to work, and of course it seemed like a good idea to go out for one cocktail. There were six of us, and the last few hours of our conversation concerned comparative religion / Christian doctrines including but not limited to:
  • The existence of Hell in various texts [it's not in the OT, gentle readers].

  • Satan is never mentioned in Job [it's God who tests Job].

  • The reason Lucifer became pissed off [because God wanted him, and all of the Angels to love and respect Man as much as they love and respect God and Lucifer wished to prove that Man is unworthy of it].

  • The Immaculate Conception concerns Mary being born with a sinless soul, not Jesus being born unto Mary without her having carnal knowledge, and this was decided at the Council of Nicea.
And on and on and on.

A bit heavy for loud drunken folks, but entertaining. When I left the bar at around nine-thirty or so it seemed like a good idea to take a taxi even though there were a few inches of snow on the streets.

As luck would have it, my cab driver was on his own religious rant:
  • The White Man is going down soon [I'm not sure what he identified me as, being a neutral-ethnic looking at-least-part-Polynesian chick in the back of a dark taxi would mean that I probably didn't look White-White enough to him to identify with The White Man].

  • The reason Muhammad instructed that pigs and monkeys must not be eaten is because pigs and monkeys are people too, the first of them were humans that were turned into monkeys and pigs . . . . God doesn't turn humans into monkeys or pigs any more because Muhammad asked Him not to.

  • Hundreds of prostitutes have been carved up and inserted into pork products in manufacturing facilities in Minnesota and the consumers never noticed.

  • WWIII shall commence with a major bombing within the next three weeks and I should get out of the country and away from The White Men . . . . he recommended Costa Rica.
Interesting, I mean I've never been to Costa Rica. I told him that I'd rather go to Iceland. His response? "Iceland is filled with White People."

And then, I stumbled out of the cab thinking mostly about how tasty some St Louis cut ribs would be. Hmmmmmmmm pork. A Samoan boy [well, a 6'9" 450-pound young Samoan man] once told me that the reason that the Polynesian peoples like Spam so much is that Spam tastes like people, and, well, it's not politically correct to eat people any more, is it? But, if pigs are people . . . . Crude, I know. Crude, crude, crude.

Tuesday, January 4

Someone Else's Devices | Catching Up

[Someone Else's Devices | Catching Up]

There are things I did on my trip [because others were doing them and it would have been rude to get out of it/or there was nothing else to do] that I never do when left to my own devices:
  • Watch Montel
  • Use Creamora
  • Watch Maury
  • Eat at a Grocery Store
  • Watch Barry Manilow on Breakfast With the Arts
  • Read People Magazine
  • Watch Lifetime Movies
  • Play Video Poker/Slots
If that is the fabled Real America, I'm not unhappy to have been completely out-of-touch with it. If it weren't for the last item, which is perhaps-not-so-surprisingly hypnotizing, I might have gone crazy.

I was, thankfully, able to visit some people. Of course, I saw my Mama Person, who was as doting as ever. There was a family holiday gathering where I got to see how much and how well or poorly everyone was aging. I had a lovely chatty dinner with my high-school best friend whom I'd not seen several years [who is aging terrifically well]. I visited a dear friend and her daughter [my Dutch Niecelet who calls me Auntie Coco] and would have had a better visit with them if I hadn't come down with a stomach flu for a day and a half.

All-in-all, I'm really glad I went, but, it's nice to be home.

Things I've Seen

[Things I've Seen]

Chiffon on Bay Window
Fried Cauliflower on Plastic Plate
Nicotine Stained Fingers on Doctor's Hand
Union Bumper Sticker aside Bush Bumper Sticker on 4-Wheel-Drive Japanese Wagon
Mustache on Matriarch
Lamé Flower on Guest Towel
Funeral Parlor Advertisement on Emery Board
Sale Sticker on Sole of Shoe
Chain Lock on Hollow Door