Sorry if I appear to be ignoring my blog. This is the first chance I've really had to start uploading music to my Creative Zen player and I'm on a roll. Got all the Patty Griffin stuff done, a few other things, and working on the k.d. lang collection now.
It would be nice if I could figure out how to upload some of the music DVDs. I haven't figured out that part yet.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Friday, March 30, 2007
Friday Pussy Blog
Miss Samantha, the red-eyed demon from hell.
That vinyl floor in the kitchen is also from hell. We need to do something about that... and soon. YUCK!
That vinyl floor in the kitchen is also from hell. We need to do something about that... and soon. YUCK!
Songs From My Head
I tried explaining to txrad yesterday about the perceived value in spending an extra $6.00 for a 750ml bottle of tequila vs. a 375ml bottle. It makes financial sense from a dollars per ounce basis, but rarely plays out as a "good deal" in the end. That is abundantly clear this morning.
TGIF. Pussy blog will be appearing late today. Work must come first.
Meanwhile, sing along, have fun. I'll be back.
TGIF. Pussy blog will be appearing late today. Work must come first.
Meanwhile, sing along, have fun. I'll be back.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Hide the Pipe
Marijuana isn't kosher for passover.
It isn't going to affect me, but I'll be on the lookout for stoned Jews.
It isn't going to affect me, but I'll be on the lookout for stoned Jews.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
This Job Ain't Good For Our Colons
txrad and I are in agreement on that issue.
This may fall in the "too much information" department. Sorry 'bout that.
It was another day from hell. We rushed to catch the 7:00 bus this morning and by the time it got there we were already on the 7:20 bus so we got to work 20 minutes later than expected and 40 minutes later than I needed to. It was downhill from there. By tomorrow afternoon things should start to lighten up a bit and just perhaps I can achieve some degree of bowel regularity again.
This does remind me quite a bit of the toilets at work:
This may fall in the "too much information" department. Sorry 'bout that.
It was another day from hell. We rushed to catch the 7:00 bus this morning and by the time it got there we were already on the 7:20 bus so we got to work 20 minutes later than expected and 40 minutes later than I needed to. It was downhill from there. By tomorrow afternoon things should start to lighten up a bit and just perhaps I can achieve some degree of bowel regularity again.
This does remind me quite a bit of the toilets at work:
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
It's Only Tuesday - I'm Drunk
But I deserve it. I did the work of 2 people today, and did what I estimated to be about 16 hours worth of work, and I managed to squeeze it into 10 hours. So when I went to buy tequila, I asked for the "small" bottle (200ml) of Hornitos. I was yapping with the clerk and when I got home I looked at the bottle and said, "Damn, that looks big."
It was the 375ml bottle. Oh well. I deserve it after a day like this....but tomorrow is only hump day. We shall see how that all plays out.
We do have dinner in the oven and that's a positive. I did not get muffins baked so I'll be grabbing one at Whole Foods again in the morning. Not terribly economical but extremely easy.
My latest infatuation is the breakfast buffet at Whole Foods. I'm not a big egg person. I don't even like eggs. But sometimes they have scrambled eggs, with potatoes, biscuits and gravy (all vegetarian, unless you count eggs as embryos in the fundamentalist sense -- I used to but don't any longer) and I am hooked on that. But this is damn good eats. I was so satisfied after breakfast, I didn't even eat my lunch until 2:35. I just want to pour gravy all over my biscuits, eggs, and potatoes, and that puts me in what some might call a form of heaven.
It was the 375ml bottle. Oh well. I deserve it after a day like this....but tomorrow is only hump day. We shall see how that all plays out.
We do have dinner in the oven and that's a positive. I did not get muffins baked so I'll be grabbing one at Whole Foods again in the morning. Not terribly economical but extremely easy.
My latest infatuation is the breakfast buffet at Whole Foods. I'm not a big egg person. I don't even like eggs. But sometimes they have scrambled eggs, with potatoes, biscuits and gravy (all vegetarian, unless you count eggs as embryos in the fundamentalist sense -- I used to but don't any longer) and I am hooked on that. But this is damn good eats. I was so satisfied after breakfast, I didn't even eat my lunch until 2:35. I just want to pour gravy all over my biscuits, eggs, and potatoes, and that puts me in what some might call a form of heaven.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Songs From My Head
Time for another segment of "I've got a song stuck in my head and you're gonna hear about it."
What a day! Crazy at work, crazy commute home with the heavy rain causing traffic jams. Then a crazy mess to clean up in the kitchen. By the time we eat dinner it'll be time to go to bed and start round two in the morning. Oh yeah!
Maybe Toast will enjoy this one. None of that jazz shit... just straight ahead rock and roll:
What a day! Crazy at work, crazy commute home with the heavy rain causing traffic jams. Then a crazy mess to clean up in the kitchen. By the time we eat dinner it'll be time to go to bed and start round two in the morning. Oh yeah!
Maybe Toast will enjoy this one. None of that jazz shit... just straight ahead rock and roll:
Aretha!
I don't know how I missed this one on yesterday's birthday post. Aretha Franklin was 65 yesterday. Thanks to maurinsky for pointing this out in the comments.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Greens Day
I have a lot to do today and I'm sitting on my ass like it was... Sunday or something. The collard greens in the garden have gone crazy again and it's time for another big harvest, do some blanching and freezing. And leave enough out for dinner tonight perhaps.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Analysis of Friendships (or a very long rambling post)
Sometimes I'm amazed that I ever met txrad, that I was immediately in love, and we've been together almost 17 years. I'm not so good with friendships and I constantly analyze myself to figure out why I'm so content with virtually no social life.
I only have one friend from high school with whom I've stayed in touch. Her name is Elizabeth (she sent the picture of Georgie in the cat post below) and we communicate almost every day via email or instant messaging. I was so excited to graduate high school and get away from that godforsaken town. Elizabeth and I wrote letters to each other for the first few years after graduation.
Five years later I went to London for 14 months. I felt as if I had a new life. I came out of the closet while in London and formed a bond with my co-workers. There were some fun parties and drinks at the pub quite often. I became very disconnected from my life in the states. I was also not enjoying my exchange of letters with Elizabeth. I know the reason was because I was gay and I had not yet made my orientation known back across the pond. So my letters to her were omitting a key aspect of my life.
I sat down one day to compose what I expected to be my last letter to her. It was the usual letter about what was going on in my life, and I told her I was gay. I wrongly assumed that would be the end of our correspondence and the last thread of contact with anyone from that high school would be cast away.
About two weeks later I received a letter from her and I was very surprised. The bomb I dropped about being gay didn't exactly detonate. It was as if I had announced that I like spicy mustard or something. And I felt rather silly for imagining the news would be received harshly. And so our friendship and regular communication continued -- only now it felt more real and honest.
I came back to the US in 1984 and slowly began to build a life here again. It was much easier as a gay person who was at least open about it with new friends. Once while out seeing a band at a club, a girl approached me to chat and I felt reasonably certain she was flirting. I nipped that in the bud immediately by mentioning something about my boyfriend being at the bar in the other room. Then she shifted gears and instead of leaving me alone as I expected, she continued chatting and we became friends. Rather than use her real name, I'll call her Ms. S.
This was 1985 and I was involved in a rather large circle of gay and gay-friendly people. I was constantly being introduced to new people -- some would drift out of my life as quickly as they entered it; others would be friends of mine for a few years longer.
I enjoyed Ms. S because she was loose and carefree and we both enjoyed music. Some of my experiences with her I treasure, such as our meals at an Indian restaurant. In 1988, at that restaurant, she introduced me to a guy who had just turned 18 -- I was 28. He and I had a fling for about 2 weeks, and then a longer period of major confusion and frustration, with an occasional fling thrown in just to really fuck things up. The relationship was doomed and that hurt. It seemed to hurt for years, but in reality it was only 2 years later when I met txrad. That's the part that really blows my mind: how, in retrospect, those two years seem to have lasted an entire decade now.
One of my other good friends was preparing to move to Denver. He encouraged me to move with him. It seemed like a good idea because I needed to get away from things for awhile. Ms. S was starting to get on my nerves frequently and it usually involved financial matters. Off to Denver I went -- hoping to find love, new friends and more adventure.
During the 18 months or so that I spent in Denver I did meet some new people and had a couple of friends with whom I was close. I hit it off particularly well with a woman (I'll call her Ms. K) I met there and she decided to move to San Diego and convinced me to move with her. I said goodbye to some of the friends I made in Denver, packed my bags, and moved. What's odd is that I didn't say goodbye to everyone. For a few people I just apparently disappeared. I had one close friend, another woman I met in an art gallery, and I was hoping we'd stay in touch. We basically hung around each other almost daily, and yet after I moved, I never heard from her again.
Ms. K and I found a cute little bungalow walking distance from the beach and began settling in. We'd barely been there a month when I met txrad. Ms. K and I had gone out to a club. I was sitting alone at a table sulking for some reason, and just staring into space when I suddenly noticed someone standing in front of me. It was him. Little did I know of the impact he would have on my life.
Ms. K seemed thrilled that I had the hots for someone. That thrill was short-lived. After a week or two, she became annoyed with me, and insisted it was just a temporary infatuation. The friction continued to build until one day she threw a diversion in my path. We had recently taken a day trip to L.A. together and she fell in love with the town and wanted to move there. My long-term plan in moving to San Diego had been to use it as a stepping stone to L.A. as well. So we plotted a move.
I made it quite clear that we'd only live together until I found a job and then I'd get my own place and txrad would then move to L.A. We found quite a nice apartment in Hollywood and I started the job search. Every weekend I'd drive back to San Diego to be with txrad. This annoyed Ms. K and our troubles started again. The situation quickly escalated into warfare of sorts.
Finally, after several weeks of searching for any kind of work, I landed a position at an advertising agency as a data entry clerk. The pay wasn't much, but I could afford an apartment, and more importantly, txrad could quit his job at Wendy's and leave San Diego to be with me. Thankfully, he did. And we proved Ms. K wrong. The friendship disintegrated.
Now, back to Ms. S. She had visited L.A. a few times and lived there a few times, and visited us there a few times. She had no problem accepting us as a couple, and there was no love lost between her and Ms. K., so in that regard she was our ally. Nevertheless, my level of agitation with Ms. S was increasing. I was settling down, had stable employment for the first time in years, and I was happy. Ms. S continued to drift from job to job, city to city, basically just surviving on the kindness of others. She was a skilled manipulator and took advantage of my easy-going nature and generosity on many occasions.
I can recall one such incident, long before I even moved to Denver. I was visiting her in L.A. after she had moved there (one move of several, back and forth) and she suggested we take a road trip to San Francisco for a long weekend. Gee, that sounded like fun, so we hit the road. We weren't even outside of Los Angeles County when she suggested we stop at a donut shop. She began digging around in her purse and proclaimed with some amusement, "Oh, I only have three cents." Not only did I pick up the tab for the donuts, but the rest of the trip was also on me. This was a typical scenario.
Another time I loaned her my credit card so she could get a plane ticket back home when she was down and out. She was going to charge the plane ticket, and once home she agreed to mail the card back to me. She was true to her word on that one. But when I got my credit card statement I knew it wasn't me that had gone out to eat, and also purchased a pair of shoes, and a few other things.
After a few years of working and getting promotions at my agency, and then moving to Austin after accepting a position at another agency, it just really bugged me for some reason that she continued to drift from place to place, holding down a crappy job here and there for a few days before moving on. She never seemed to take any responsibility for her actions. I still liked her as a person and a friend, but I just didn't want to be around her. We'd have long phone conversations but whenever she mentioned coming for a visit, it got to a point I'd cringe and make up some excuse for why it wasn't convenient.
She found a work-around for that little problem. I got in the car one day to run to the store and before I got out of my neighborhood, I saw someone in a car waving at me. I stopped because this person was vaguely familiar. It was her. She had driven down from Arkansas for a surprise visitation. I don't know about the rest of you, but konagod does not like those types of surprises -- particularly when they are coupled with an expectation to provide some food and definitely the housing aspect of this "vacation" she had planned.
A year or so after that I seem to recall having a voice mail from her that she was in Dallas and was on the way to Austin for the weekend and wanted to see us. (Read between the lines.) Instead of calling her back, txrad and I packed some bags, got in the car and drove to Houston and Galveston for the weekend.
There was another similar incident about 3 years ago in which she and her husband planned a trip to Austin, showed up, and expected a red carpet to be rolled out. Rather than come right out and ask if they could sleep here, she just lingered, waiting for an invitation. I was annoyed and finally got up and went to bed, leaving txrad to deal with the situation. He stood his ground and finally Ms. S and hubby left in a huff I'm sure.
I don't think I've seen her again since that time. We spoke a few times on the phone for a couple of months afterwards. She moved to L.A. again, then moved to Dallas (which made me nervous), but she was never doing anything to improve her financial life and I'd just had enough. I had bought her a CD for her birthday 2 or 3 years ago and I never sent it because she was living with some guy after separating from her husband, and she was talking about packing up and leaving in a few days. I never knew her address, or if she'd even be there long enough for the package to arrive, before she moved on somewhere else. Finally, I quit returning her calls and I quit responding to her email messages. Her friendship was literally stressing me out and I have enough stress in my life.
So, dear readers, do I have the problem? Or do I just attract crazies and other people who succeed in making me insane? The people I consider to be my best friends all seem to be as aloof as me. Most of them I haven't seen or spoken to in years. I'll get the occasional email or holiday card and that's about it. The friends in my life with whom I had the closest connections all went sour for one reason or another. Another thing I've noticed is that the friends who actually had the most negative impact on me were also the ones who provided the catalyst for some of the most positive changes in my life. It's ironic that I might never have met txrad were it not for Ms. K and I moving to San Diego from Denver. And that friendship which started out so strong, lasted 2 years at best.
These days, my new friends are.... bloggers. Some of them (or some of you) I may someday meet, and hope to. Others I'm sure I'll never meet. But I'm OK with it. It's safe and it's easy. There's no baggage. You stop by my blog and chat awhile and I'll visit yours and chat awhile. No advance notice required, no urgent need to change any bed linens, I don't need to tiptoe around the house at 6:00 am, and you won't keep me awake by chatting long after I've gone to bed. No inconveniences whatsoever. It's relaxing and easy. And it's quite strange.
Oh, that graphic I inserted above... "Doesn't Play Well With Others" -- it's a sticker which was given to me by none other than Ms. S. Hmmm....
I only have one friend from high school with whom I've stayed in touch. Her name is Elizabeth (she sent the picture of Georgie in the cat post below) and we communicate almost every day via email or instant messaging. I was so excited to graduate high school and get away from that godforsaken town. Elizabeth and I wrote letters to each other for the first few years after graduation.
Five years later I went to London for 14 months. I felt as if I had a new life. I came out of the closet while in London and formed a bond with my co-workers. There were some fun parties and drinks at the pub quite often. I became very disconnected from my life in the states. I was also not enjoying my exchange of letters with Elizabeth. I know the reason was because I was gay and I had not yet made my orientation known back across the pond. So my letters to her were omitting a key aspect of my life.
I sat down one day to compose what I expected to be my last letter to her. It was the usual letter about what was going on in my life, and I told her I was gay. I wrongly assumed that would be the end of our correspondence and the last thread of contact with anyone from that high school would be cast away.
About two weeks later I received a letter from her and I was very surprised. The bomb I dropped about being gay didn't exactly detonate. It was as if I had announced that I like spicy mustard or something. And I felt rather silly for imagining the news would be received harshly. And so our friendship and regular communication continued -- only now it felt more real and honest.
I came back to the US in 1984 and slowly began to build a life here again. It was much easier as a gay person who was at least open about it with new friends. Once while out seeing a band at a club, a girl approached me to chat and I felt reasonably certain she was flirting. I nipped that in the bud immediately by mentioning something about my boyfriend being at the bar in the other room. Then she shifted gears and instead of leaving me alone as I expected, she continued chatting and we became friends. Rather than use her real name, I'll call her Ms. S.
This was 1985 and I was involved in a rather large circle of gay and gay-friendly people. I was constantly being introduced to new people -- some would drift out of my life as quickly as they entered it; others would be friends of mine for a few years longer.
I enjoyed Ms. S because she was loose and carefree and we both enjoyed music. Some of my experiences with her I treasure, such as our meals at an Indian restaurant. In 1988, at that restaurant, she introduced me to a guy who had just turned 18 -- I was 28. He and I had a fling for about 2 weeks, and then a longer period of major confusion and frustration, with an occasional fling thrown in just to really fuck things up. The relationship was doomed and that hurt. It seemed to hurt for years, but in reality it was only 2 years later when I met txrad. That's the part that really blows my mind: how, in retrospect, those two years seem to have lasted an entire decade now.
One of my other good friends was preparing to move to Denver. He encouraged me to move with him. It seemed like a good idea because I needed to get away from things for awhile. Ms. S was starting to get on my nerves frequently and it usually involved financial matters. Off to Denver I went -- hoping to find love, new friends and more adventure.
During the 18 months or so that I spent in Denver I did meet some new people and had a couple of friends with whom I was close. I hit it off particularly well with a woman (I'll call her Ms. K) I met there and she decided to move to San Diego and convinced me to move with her. I said goodbye to some of the friends I made in Denver, packed my bags, and moved. What's odd is that I didn't say goodbye to everyone. For a few people I just apparently disappeared. I had one close friend, another woman I met in an art gallery, and I was hoping we'd stay in touch. We basically hung around each other almost daily, and yet after I moved, I never heard from her again.
Ms. K and I found a cute little bungalow walking distance from the beach and began settling in. We'd barely been there a month when I met txrad. Ms. K and I had gone out to a club. I was sitting alone at a table sulking for some reason, and just staring into space when I suddenly noticed someone standing in front of me. It was him. Little did I know of the impact he would have on my life.
Ms. K seemed thrilled that I had the hots for someone. That thrill was short-lived. After a week or two, she became annoyed with me, and insisted it was just a temporary infatuation. The friction continued to build until one day she threw a diversion in my path. We had recently taken a day trip to L.A. together and she fell in love with the town and wanted to move there. My long-term plan in moving to San Diego had been to use it as a stepping stone to L.A. as well. So we plotted a move.
I made it quite clear that we'd only live together until I found a job and then I'd get my own place and txrad would then move to L.A. We found quite a nice apartment in Hollywood and I started the job search. Every weekend I'd drive back to San Diego to be with txrad. This annoyed Ms. K and our troubles started again. The situation quickly escalated into warfare of sorts.
Finally, after several weeks of searching for any kind of work, I landed a position at an advertising agency as a data entry clerk. The pay wasn't much, but I could afford an apartment, and more importantly, txrad could quit his job at Wendy's and leave San Diego to be with me. Thankfully, he did. And we proved Ms. K wrong. The friendship disintegrated.
Now, back to Ms. S. She had visited L.A. a few times and lived there a few times, and visited us there a few times. She had no problem accepting us as a couple, and there was no love lost between her and Ms. K., so in that regard she was our ally. Nevertheless, my level of agitation with Ms. S was increasing. I was settling down, had stable employment for the first time in years, and I was happy. Ms. S continued to drift from job to job, city to city, basically just surviving on the kindness of others. She was a skilled manipulator and took advantage of my easy-going nature and generosity on many occasions.
I can recall one such incident, long before I even moved to Denver. I was visiting her in L.A. after she had moved there (one move of several, back and forth) and she suggested we take a road trip to San Francisco for a long weekend. Gee, that sounded like fun, so we hit the road. We weren't even outside of Los Angeles County when she suggested we stop at a donut shop. She began digging around in her purse and proclaimed with some amusement, "Oh, I only have three cents." Not only did I pick up the tab for the donuts, but the rest of the trip was also on me. This was a typical scenario.
Another time I loaned her my credit card so she could get a plane ticket back home when she was down and out. She was going to charge the plane ticket, and once home she agreed to mail the card back to me. She was true to her word on that one. But when I got my credit card statement I knew it wasn't me that had gone out to eat, and also purchased a pair of shoes, and a few other things.
After a few years of working and getting promotions at my agency, and then moving to Austin after accepting a position at another agency, it just really bugged me for some reason that she continued to drift from place to place, holding down a crappy job here and there for a few days before moving on. She never seemed to take any responsibility for her actions. I still liked her as a person and a friend, but I just didn't want to be around her. We'd have long phone conversations but whenever she mentioned coming for a visit, it got to a point I'd cringe and make up some excuse for why it wasn't convenient.
She found a work-around for that little problem. I got in the car one day to run to the store and before I got out of my neighborhood, I saw someone in a car waving at me. I stopped because this person was vaguely familiar. It was her. She had driven down from Arkansas for a surprise visitation. I don't know about the rest of you, but konagod does not like those types of surprises -- particularly when they are coupled with an expectation to provide some food and definitely the housing aspect of this "vacation" she had planned.
A year or so after that I seem to recall having a voice mail from her that she was in Dallas and was on the way to Austin for the weekend and wanted to see us. (Read between the lines.) Instead of calling her back, txrad and I packed some bags, got in the car and drove to Houston and Galveston for the weekend.
There was another similar incident about 3 years ago in which she and her husband planned a trip to Austin, showed up, and expected a red carpet to be rolled out. Rather than come right out and ask if they could sleep here, she just lingered, waiting for an invitation. I was annoyed and finally got up and went to bed, leaving txrad to deal with the situation. He stood his ground and finally Ms. S and hubby left in a huff I'm sure.
I don't think I've seen her again since that time. We spoke a few times on the phone for a couple of months afterwards. She moved to L.A. again, then moved to Dallas (which made me nervous), but she was never doing anything to improve her financial life and I'd just had enough. I had bought her a CD for her birthday 2 or 3 years ago and I never sent it because she was living with some guy after separating from her husband, and she was talking about packing up and leaving in a few days. I never knew her address, or if she'd even be there long enough for the package to arrive, before she moved on somewhere else. Finally, I quit returning her calls and I quit responding to her email messages. Her friendship was literally stressing me out and I have enough stress in my life.
So, dear readers, do I have the problem? Or do I just attract crazies and other people who succeed in making me insane? The people I consider to be my best friends all seem to be as aloof as me. Most of them I haven't seen or spoken to in years. I'll get the occasional email or holiday card and that's about it. The friends in my life with whom I had the closest connections all went sour for one reason or another. Another thing I've noticed is that the friends who actually had the most negative impact on me were also the ones who provided the catalyst for some of the most positive changes in my life. It's ironic that I might never have met txrad were it not for Ms. K and I moving to San Diego from Denver. And that friendship which started out so strong, lasted 2 years at best.
These days, my new friends are.... bloggers. Some of them (or some of you) I may someday meet, and hope to. Others I'm sure I'll never meet. But I'm OK with it. It's safe and it's easy. There's no baggage. You stop by my blog and chat awhile and I'll visit yours and chat awhile. No advance notice required, no urgent need to change any bed linens, I don't need to tiptoe around the house at 6:00 am, and you won't keep me awake by chatting long after I've gone to bed. No inconveniences whatsoever. It's relaxing and easy. And it's quite strange.
Oh, that graphic I inserted above... "Doesn't Play Well With Others" -- it's a sticker which was given to me by none other than Ms. S. Hmmm....
Friday Pussy Blog
Yeah, I know it's Saturday. Yesterday was horrendous. It was time to start pizza prep as soon as I walked in the door yesterday and the kitchen needed to be cleaned first from Thursday night's cooking session!
This week's post is courtesy of two friends.
Rebecca sent in a pic of her Gidget in the trash can.
Elizabeth sent a bunch of pics awhile back. Here's Georgie in the all-too-familiar pose.
Finally, litbrit sent a link to the tainted cat food story which has also been stressing me out all week. I think the odds of my cats being poisoned by the one can I have remaining are slim, but still... it's something that you think about. If it weren't for Samantha I'd just stick with the dry food regimen until this is all resolved.
Samantha used to be 18+ lbs and as she entered the "golden years" she lost the bulk of that weight. For some reason she just doesn't seem to be absorbing anything from the dry food and I'm very concerned about her. She LOVES the canned chicken and I like to give that to her because she will actually eat the entire contents of a can. If she doesn't get this special treat, she howls and screeches until I give in. Finding something suitable for her is on my to-do list this weekend.
This week's post is courtesy of two friends.
Rebecca sent in a pic of her Gidget in the trash can.
Elizabeth sent a bunch of pics awhile back. Here's Georgie in the all-too-familiar pose.
Finally, litbrit sent a link to the tainted cat food story which has also been stressing me out all week. I think the odds of my cats being poisoned by the one can I have remaining are slim, but still... it's something that you think about. If it weren't for Samantha I'd just stick with the dry food regimen until this is all resolved.
Samantha used to be 18+ lbs and as she entered the "golden years" she lost the bulk of that weight. For some reason she just doesn't seem to be absorbing anything from the dry food and I'm very concerned about her. She LOVES the canned chicken and I like to give that to her because she will actually eat the entire contents of a can. If she doesn't get this special treat, she howls and screeches until I give in. Finding something suitable for her is on my to-do list this weekend.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Lesson #1
When the creditors start to spoil your evening of fun with that annoying phone call, just pick up and hang up.
Works every time.
Works every time.
Five Things No One Knows About Me
I was tagged -- and quite awhile back by the ever-lovely litbrit with this one. Poor kona is a busy boy these days but I get around to the memes eventually. I'm going to spice this one up a bit by doing a tequila shot before each of the five things. Yeahh, baby. Rock & roll. If #5 is incoherent, you'll know why. Oh, and I'm drinking beer between shots. I guess that's worth mentioning. Anything to keep me away from the threads over at Shakes' place for awhile can only be a worthy cause, right?
1. When I was about 7, I must have been lacking general social skills. My best friend, whom I'd known basically since birth considering the fact that we were born one day apart in the same hospital, was in the same grade school as me. We were out in the playground with other kids at recess playing around an area where the garbage cans were stored. It was an area bricked in on 3 sides. There were a few loose bricks around so in order to get some attention, and perhaps a laugh, I somehow thought it would be hilarious if I threw a brick up in the air while hiding behind the brick wall. The other kids would see this brick falling from the sky and maybe it would land on someone's foot and they'd wonder where the hell it came from. Yes, that was my thought process.
I remember hearing a commotion and I stood up to see who might be laughing. No one was laughing. They were all pointing at me. The brick landed on my best friend's head. He was bleeding and had to be taken to a hospital for stitches. I don't really remember too much after that -- whether I was questioned by any teachers, or anything. I think I just went on with my day as if nothing had happened.
That night our phone rang and it was my friend's mother calling my mother for an explanation. I calmly said there was a brick on the playground and I was throwing it back over to the garbage can area where it belonged ... and missed. What a liar I was.
Nothing else was ever said, and we continued to be best friends for years -- until we were 16 or so. Actually we ended up being --- I hesitate to use the word "lovers." But he was my first sexual encounter and that went on for 2 years on a regular basis. Life is weird, huh? And he's dead now. That's another story.
2. I love chocolate. It's probably one of my absolute favorite substances in the world. But I despise chocolate beverages. Hot chocolate, any chocolate-flavored coffees, anything chocolate in liquid form is probably one of my biggest turn-offs. I don't care for candy either. And don't like chocolate candy unless it's of high quality. About the lowest common denominator of chocolate I'll eat in candy form is Godiva. I like most of that stuff. There's also a chocolate bar at Whole Foods Market with dried raspberries in it that I enjoy. But I can make one bar of that last me at least a week. I have incredible self-discipline when it comes to devouring chocolate. (Too bad I have NO self-discipline when it comes to tequila. Which reminds me, time for another shot if I'm done with #2.)
3. Let's talk about body fluids, and get this out of the way, all in one (wad) shot. About 2 weeks ago, I awoke about 4:00 am from a dream (in color as always) in which I was in a department store of some type. It was one of those multi-level stores with an elevator. I was shopping for merchandise when I suddenly realized I'd hit the stop button on the elevator when I got out, so the elevator was stuck there. About the time I realized I needed to run release the stop button so other people could use it, I awoke with the sensation that I needed to urinate. Actually, what was happening was a wet dream. I thought that only happened to younger guys. Live and learn.
In a similar vein (you can call this 3a if you wish), you've all heard the expression about having it coming out of both ends at the same time. Only once in my life have I been vomiting and had diarrhea at the same time. I was a teen and very sick with the flu or some bad bug. I had to crawl from the toilet to the bathtub. Fun!
4. I love looking at porn. Oh wait, no one is going to be surprised by that. Let's start over. Hmm, I think I squeezed in an extra shot there somewhere. Oh well, a boy needs his think time; these memes are not easy.
4. I probably could have earned my living as a pianist. When I was 7 I started taking piano lessons from the same woman who taught my brother. He was good. Damn good. My teacher told my mother I had far more talent than my brother. I took lessons until I was 9 and suddenly lost interest. It's a shame, because I enjoyed it, but there were certain aspects of it that frustrated me, and it was because my teacher didn't know how to teach. She couldn't explain things to me in a manner in which my mind could comprehend. (And she was an alcoholic.) I have similar problems to this very day with learning new things. I don't respond well to instruction without understanding the why or the history behind it. I need full-spectrum instruction or I lose interest. And so, I'm not a pianist. I'm in advertising and experiencing some of the same frustration I experienced as a pianist-to-be.
One more shot to go, and then I'm done with this meme. Oh, what to confess, what to confess!
5. I am not happy about aging. When I turned 40 (which wasn't nearly as hard for me as turning 30), I was still getting carded occasionally for alcohol purchases. In fact, I've become quite the pal with the woman who works at my liquor store and I first met her about 6 years ago. She carded me when I bought a pack of cigarettes from her for the first time. I remember saying, "Jesus, how old do I have to be to buy cigarettes?" She said, "18." I said, "Well, I believe I got that covered." She examined my ID and said, "You look young." The rest is history. Literally.
I'm actually planning a separate post about the transition from 4o to 50 and it's likely to take awhile, but this is as good a time as any to introduce it. I have never identified with people my own age. Oh sure, I've had friends older than me for the past 20 years, and I get on dandy with people 5, 10, 15 years older than me. I borrowed a Janis Joplin book from a former co-worker who is probably 20 years older than me, and I can certainly relate to her. But I do not ever care to act my age, if that makes any sense.
It's been quite an experience for me starting my new job. I've worked at home, away from society at large, for the past 6 or 7 years. Getting back into the work force has been a huge challenge. I'm now back in an environment with people 20+ years younger than me, along with a sprinkling of people my age, or a few years older. And folks, it's an adjustment.
But I refuse to conform. I refuse to act my age. I refuse to cast away my creativity for the sake of fitting a mold. I will not be manipulated and I will not be controlled. And apparently I am lucky to have that luxury.
Time for another shot. And maybe load the pipe. Tagged: Take it and run with it if you are so inclined.
1. When I was about 7, I must have been lacking general social skills. My best friend, whom I'd known basically since birth considering the fact that we were born one day apart in the same hospital, was in the same grade school as me. We were out in the playground with other kids at recess playing around an area where the garbage cans were stored. It was an area bricked in on 3 sides. There were a few loose bricks around so in order to get some attention, and perhaps a laugh, I somehow thought it would be hilarious if I threw a brick up in the air while hiding behind the brick wall. The other kids would see this brick falling from the sky and maybe it would land on someone's foot and they'd wonder where the hell it came from. Yes, that was my thought process.
I remember hearing a commotion and I stood up to see who might be laughing. No one was laughing. They were all pointing at me. The brick landed on my best friend's head. He was bleeding and had to be taken to a hospital for stitches. I don't really remember too much after that -- whether I was questioned by any teachers, or anything. I think I just went on with my day as if nothing had happened.
That night our phone rang and it was my friend's mother calling my mother for an explanation. I calmly said there was a brick on the playground and I was throwing it back over to the garbage can area where it belonged ... and missed. What a liar I was.
Nothing else was ever said, and we continued to be best friends for years -- until we were 16 or so. Actually we ended up being --- I hesitate to use the word "lovers." But he was my first sexual encounter and that went on for 2 years on a regular basis. Life is weird, huh? And he's dead now. That's another story.
2. I love chocolate. It's probably one of my absolute favorite substances in the world. But I despise chocolate beverages. Hot chocolate, any chocolate-flavored coffees, anything chocolate in liquid form is probably one of my biggest turn-offs. I don't care for candy either. And don't like chocolate candy unless it's of high quality. About the lowest common denominator of chocolate I'll eat in candy form is Godiva. I like most of that stuff. There's also a chocolate bar at Whole Foods Market with dried raspberries in it that I enjoy. But I can make one bar of that last me at least a week. I have incredible self-discipline when it comes to devouring chocolate. (Too bad I have NO self-discipline when it comes to tequila. Which reminds me, time for another shot if I'm done with #2.)
3. Let's talk about body fluids, and get this out of the way, all in one (wad) shot. About 2 weeks ago, I awoke about 4:00 am from a dream (in color as always) in which I was in a department store of some type. It was one of those multi-level stores with an elevator. I was shopping for merchandise when I suddenly realized I'd hit the stop button on the elevator when I got out, so the elevator was stuck there. About the time I realized I needed to run release the stop button so other people could use it, I awoke with the sensation that I needed to urinate. Actually, what was happening was a wet dream. I thought that only happened to younger guys. Live and learn.
In a similar vein (you can call this 3a if you wish), you've all heard the expression about having it coming out of both ends at the same time. Only once in my life have I been vomiting and had diarrhea at the same time. I was a teen and very sick with the flu or some bad bug. I had to crawl from the toilet to the bathtub. Fun!
4. I probably could have earned my living as a pianist. When I was 7 I started taking piano lessons from the same woman who taught my brother. He was good. Damn good. My teacher told my mother I had far more talent than my brother. I took lessons until I was 9 and suddenly lost interest. It's a shame, because I enjoyed it, but there were certain aspects of it that frustrated me, and it was because my teacher didn't know how to teach. She couldn't explain things to me in a manner in which my mind could comprehend. (And she was an alcoholic.) I have similar problems to this very day with learning new things. I don't respond well to instruction without understanding the why or the history behind it. I need full-spectrum instruction or I lose interest. And so, I'm not a pianist. I'm in advertising and experiencing some of the same frustration I experienced as a pianist-to-be.
One more shot to go, and then I'm done with this meme. Oh, what to confess, what to confess!
5. I am not happy about aging. When I turned 40 (which wasn't nearly as hard for me as turning 30), I was still getting carded occasionally for alcohol purchases. In fact, I've become quite the pal with the woman who works at my liquor store and I first met her about 6 years ago. She carded me when I bought a pack of cigarettes from her for the first time. I remember saying, "Jesus, how old do I have to be to buy cigarettes?" She said, "18." I said, "Well, I believe I got that covered." She examined my ID and said, "You look young." The rest is history. Literally.
I'm actually planning a separate post about the transition from 4o to 50 and it's likely to take awhile, but this is as good a time as any to introduce it. I have never identified with people my own age. Oh sure, I've had friends older than me for the past 20 years, and I get on dandy with people 5, 10, 15 years older than me. I borrowed a Janis Joplin book from a former co-worker who is probably 20 years older than me, and I can certainly relate to her. But I do not ever care to act my age, if that makes any sense.
It's been quite an experience for me starting my new job. I've worked at home, away from society at large, for the past 6 or 7 years. Getting back into the work force has been a huge challenge. I'm now back in an environment with people 20+ years younger than me, along with a sprinkling of people my age, or a few years older. And folks, it's an adjustment.
But I refuse to conform. I refuse to act my age. I refuse to cast away my creativity for the sake of fitting a mold. I will not be manipulated and I will not be controlled. And apparently I am lucky to have that luxury.
Time for another shot. And maybe load the pipe. Tagged: Take it and run with it if you are so inclined.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Who the Hell is Darrin Stephens?
And why don't people younger than me know who he is?
The agency I work for has a professional photographer to take a photo of each employee which is hung outside the cubicles and also posted on the internal web site of the company. I haven't had my photo taken yet so I decided to do something funny and put up a photo of my favorite advertising executive and I selected this one.
No one so far seems to have a clue who this person is. I thought it was funny. I guess I'm alone. Come on, people: he worked for McMann & Tate. Has everyone lost touch with the 60s?
Hump Day Birthdays
Rosie O'Donnell is 45.
Gary Oldman is 49.
Eddie James "Son" House was born on this day in 1902.
Had I known this when I got off the bus today, I'd already be 4 shots into the bottle. Due to my lack of information, I have none. Wine will do nicely however.
Rock on, brother.
Gary Oldman is 49.
Eddie James "Son" House was born on this day in 1902.
Had I known this when I got off the bus today, I'd already be 4 shots into the bottle. Due to my lack of information, I have none. Wine will do nicely however.
Rock on, brother.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Birthdays & Conspiracies
Spike Lee is 50.
I don't feel so old now.
I don't feel so old now.
Jimmie Vaughan is 57.
Performing live right here in Austin at the Capitol.
Bong Hits 4 Jesus
Keep an eye on this one. The Supreme Court could potentially find another use for duct tape. I can almost hear the whrrrrr of the paper shredder. The Bill of Rights is at risk yet again.
The print version is here.
A majority of the court seemed willing to create what would amount to a drug exception to students’ First Amendment rights, much as the court has in recent years permitted widespread drug testing of students, even those not personally suspected of using drugs, under a relaxed view of the Fourth Amendment prohibition against unreasonable searches.
The print version is here.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Birthdays and Other Unpleasantries
Holy cow! Say it ain't so, Honey Ryder!!
Ursula Andress is 71.
Ursula Andress is 71.
Ornette Coleman is 77.
Wikipedia lists his birthday as March 9. The website where I gather this data says March 19. Who knows?
Randy Rhoads heavy metal guitarist for Ozzy Osbourne, died in a plane crash at 25 in 1982. I guess that's the "other unpleasantries" portion of this post. Tragic. What a friggin' loss.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
1983-2007 | R.I.P. Platinum Card
I've been a "member" and carried a "Card" from a certain credit card company since 1983. That dates back to when I was a status symbol-obsessed youth. Since that time I have been accruing points on every purchase and never used them. I treat it like a savings account of sorts. If I ever wanted to take a free trip, the points are there. I had about 328,000 points as of this morning. That's good for quite a few trips! Too bad I never fly. I don't even like to be in close proximity to an airport.
Several years ago, probably more like 12 or 15, I was "invited" to upgrade to a Platinum card. This was before every other institution began issuing Platinum VISA cards out the ying-yang. I felt like I was part of an elite class; I felt special. Now I just feel rather stupid for playing along.
I've toyed with the idea of dumping the Card for the past couple of years. By the time I hit the bottom financially in early January I had decided to cancel my membership in this elite club when my next membership fee comes due in September. I already cancelled txrad's card in February.
Keep in mind, this Platinum card isn't cheap. It does come with some nice amenities for those with the finances to use them. A free companion ticket on certain overseas flights for business and first class flights is quite a perk. One such trip a year would offset the $395 annual membership fee for several years. But how many such trips have I taken? Zero.
After I found lucrative work again at the end of January, and txrad began working again last week, it had crossed my mind that perhaps I could hang on to my beloved Card now. I don't know why I have this completely irrational emotional attachment to a piece of plastic, and the tyrants behind it. (Ever been late with a payment to those folks?)
A letter I received this week from the Centurion has sealed the decision. I may have a job, and life may be grand again, but I have not forgotten how easy it is for situations to change, to go from rolling in the dough one day to wondering how we're going to feed the cats a week later. I'm enjoying being frugal, and honestly, I got over the Platinum status symbol honeymoon at least a decade ago.
The Centurion has informed me that my membership fee will be increasing to $450 this year. Umm, no it won't. And so, the Centurion has forced me to begin a shopping spree. Now I'm having fun.
This Creative Zen Vision:M 30 GB MP3 and Video Player is on the way. And yes, in GREEN. Why the hell not? I'm Irish! And I can start doing a Friday Random 10.
288,000 points remain. More shopping to be done.
Crossposted at B3
Several years ago, probably more like 12 or 15, I was "invited" to upgrade to a Platinum card. This was before every other institution began issuing Platinum VISA cards out the ying-yang. I felt like I was part of an elite class; I felt special. Now I just feel rather stupid for playing along.
I've toyed with the idea of dumping the Card for the past couple of years. By the time I hit the bottom financially in early January I had decided to cancel my membership in this elite club when my next membership fee comes due in September. I already cancelled txrad's card in February.
Keep in mind, this Platinum card isn't cheap. It does come with some nice amenities for those with the finances to use them. A free companion ticket on certain overseas flights for business and first class flights is quite a perk. One such trip a year would offset the $395 annual membership fee for several years. But how many such trips have I taken? Zero.
After I found lucrative work again at the end of January, and txrad began working again last week, it had crossed my mind that perhaps I could hang on to my beloved Card now. I don't know why I have this completely irrational emotional attachment to a piece of plastic, and the tyrants behind it. (Ever been late with a payment to those folks?)
A letter I received this week from the Centurion has sealed the decision. I may have a job, and life may be grand again, but I have not forgotten how easy it is for situations to change, to go from rolling in the dough one day to wondering how we're going to feed the cats a week later. I'm enjoying being frugal, and honestly, I got over the Platinum status symbol honeymoon at least a decade ago.
The Centurion has informed me that my membership fee will be increasing to $450 this year. Umm, no it won't. And so, the Centurion has forced me to begin a shopping spree. Now I'm having fun.
This Creative Zen Vision:M 30 GB MP3 and Video Player is on the way. And yes, in GREEN. Why the hell not? I'm Irish! And I can start doing a Friday Random 10.
Crossposted at B3
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