From The Long Sad Party

Stinking Up the Place

Wed, 04 Aug 2004 00:00:30 GMT

I had a dream last night that my friend Andy cut his hands off and gave them to me because I wanted a “hand makeover.” Apparently his hands were the only pair that would do. He more than happily obliged by severing them at the wrists, taking out the bones (I only needed the hide), and packing them up in a padded, refrigerated envelope. How he did all of this without the use of his hands, I have no idea. This part was vague. I just remember taking the padded envelope and heading to the plastic surgeon. On the way, I stopped in a number of fun stores that sold things like Dirty Girl soap and Madlibs. While browsing, I ran into my friend Jim. Forgetting about the hands, I spent the afternoon with him, trying on clothes and drinking in a local bar. It wasn’t until the package began to reek, that I remembered the hands. The smell in my dream was so pungent that it woke me out of my sleep with a start.

Ick.

I wouldn’t even know how to begin interpretting this one.

Good Morning, Sunshine

Sat, 31 Jul 2004 14:31:48 GMT

I’ve been up since six a.m., but I can’t seem to wake the fuck up despite three cups of coffee and two Earl Grey teas. I feel like my brain is fermenting in a certain disunion that I can’t quite place. Let’s just say I’m feeling much more “out there” than I normally do. Reasons for this could be any of the following:

* I spent a good portion of last night reading The Crying of Lot 49

* I took a certain fun pill last night to help me sleep

* I had crazy dreams last night involving a tidal wave, my good friend dressed as a Roman soldier, and an evil fox

* I’m wearing my hair in a very tight ponytail that’s cutting off the blood flow to my head

Of course it's probably a combination of all of the above.

Nice Stethoscope

Tue, 27 Jul 2004 23:16:56 GMT

I went to see my dermatologist today for a mole check. I had almost forgotten how incredibly sexy he is. My god, a doctor should NOT look like that. He can’t be much older than I am, maybe younger. Talk about awkward. I wanted to hide under the examining table, especially when he lifted the paper gown I was wearing and took a peak into my panties! All those old clichés about “playing doctor” went wheeling through my head. By the time he was done looking me over, I think my face must have matched my hair.

Note to self: Get an old, knotted dermatologist with a stoop.

Anyway, he removed a mole from my forehead that I’ve had forever. It was colorless, but always bugged me. Now I’m feeling weirdly sad about it. About a mole? Why should a mole make me feel regretful? It was pretty small and I was always trying to hide it with my hair, so I shouldn’t be lamenting it. Maybe I’m as insane as I think I am. He did find a mole on my chest that concerned him and took a sample of it to biopsy. I guess living in the desert for eight years is finally catching up with me.

Call Me

Fri, 23 Jul 2004 13:14:14 GMT

I just got the weirdest voice mail at work. The only way to describe it is to say that it was a sound and nothing else. There were no human vocals involved. It could have been one of a number of things. To me it sounded like one of three things -- someone felling a tree with a manual saw, a heart beating from the inside, a guy jerking off into the phone. Who knows. It went on for a full five minutes and then ended abruptly. I sat with the phone to my ear listening the whole time, thinking I was going to get some kind of resolution out of it if I waited. Nothing! Just dead silence and the receiver clicking.

Save for Future Reference

Wed, 21 Jul 2004 00:02:31 GMT

Sunday night I talked to my mom and she told me she has to go for a second MRI on her head, this time with a dye injection. In the same breath she told me the gynecologist wants to talk to her in his office about the results of her sonogram. Naturally, I’m worried beyond distraction. I can’t sleep at night, thinking that my mother has a brain tumor or ovarian cancer. All the things I was stressing out about seem so trivial now. When life throws a wrench into your wagon wheel, it’s funny how everything seems to sort itself into perspective. . .

Twisted

Sun, 18 Jul 2004 03:03:57 GMT

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R found this picture on File Pile. I don’t know why I find it so humorous. Maybe it’s because the baby is so freaked out (I probably would be, too) and the look of merriment on the skeleton’s face is so… umm, forced?

Concerning the Cube Farm

Tue, 13 Jul 2004 00:40:01 GMT

Since my supervisor is quitting, I had a meeting with my supervisor’s boss and found out that they don’t want to promote me like I was worried they might. I know it’s not a common thing to not to want to move up the food chain, but I made it abundantly clear when I was hired that I wanted to stay on the bottom rung of corporate existence because I have a second and much more important life outside of my cubicle and I could be leaving for it at any moment.

Some people I told this to wondered why I wasn’t offended that I wasn’t next in line for the job, but I’m not surprised; I’m not exactly the most enthusiastic employee. I walk around the office with hunched shoulders, rolling my eyes, and sighing heavily. I certainly wouldn’t promote me. And I’m not upset about it, in fact I’m extremely relieved. The thought of having to explain for the twenty-fifth time that I’m trying to one day support myself by my writing alone isn’t appealing. I don’t expect anyone to “get it” even though some people I work with do understand, and bless their hearts for realizing that not everyone is out there working toward owning an SUV or a new townhouse.

Time for a Mark Strand Poem

Tue, 06 Jul 2004 00:13:17 GMT

"The Dreadful Has Already Happened"
-Mark Strand

The relatives are leaning over, staring expectantly.
They moisten their lips with their tongues. I can feel
them urging me on. I hold the baby in the air.
Heaps of broken bottles glitter in the sun.

A small band is playing old fashioned marches.
My mother is keeping time by stamping her foot.
My father is kissing a woman who keeps waving
to somebody else. There are palm trees.

The hills are spotted with orange flamboyants and tall
billowy clouds move beyond them. "Go on, Boy,"
I hear somebody say, "Go on."
I keep wondering if it will rain.

The sky darkens. There is thunder.
"Break his legs," says one of my aunts,
"Now give him a kiss." I do what I'm told.
The trees bend in the bleak tropical wind.

The baby did not scream, but I remember that sigh
when I reached inside for his tiny lungs and shook them
out in the air for the flies. The relatives cheered.
It was about that time I gave up.

Now, when I answer the phone, his lips
are in the receiver; when I sleep, his hair is gathered
around a familiar face on the pillow; wherever I search
I find his feet. He is what is left of my life.

Cruel Summer (WARNING: Lots of Whining)

Tue, 29 Jun 2004 00:22:43 GMT

I’m still here, just busy. I’m so tired, my eyes are laminated in a weird goop that’s been making my vision blurry.

I recently returned from New Orleans where I worked my butt off seven days in a row, averaging 12-14 hours a day. Then I came back to another full work week. No rest for the wicked, as they say. How about no rest for the pushovers? That would be more accurate in my case. Too bad I have NO vacation time because unlike some of the people I work with, I actually use vacation days. If I want to go to Anguilla in August, I can’t take a day between now and then, and I’m too honest to take a “sick” day (pathetic, I know). So in the meantime, I just work on my caffeine addiction and complain and fantasize about the day I leave this place (probably at in 2 months ) and take that next step in the right direction – you know toward actually doing something with my MFA. In spite of all my whining, I did have a nice weekend. It was anything but restful, however. I spent the bulk of it assembling IKEA furniture and playing catch-up with mundane chores like laundry and food shopping.

For now, this is the only thing that’s getting me through this insane summer:

Levitate Me

Sat, 15 May 2004 15:56:15 GMT

I have Pixies tickets!!!!!!!!!!

*jumping up and down like a teenage girl about to go to an N'Sync concert*

Random Picture of the Day

Mon, 03 May 2004 00:20:03 GMT

This is Vladimir. He loves this window and spends most of the day staring out at the world, probably wishing he could be out there. I'm an over-protective mom, so I don't let him out anymore. When we lived in Tucson, I let him out, but after he got into it with several creatures including lizards and snakes, I started keeping him indoors. Now he just hunts socks.

Thu, 22 Apr 2004 11:24:11 GMT

TESTING (the date?????)

Am I hallucinating?

Short and to the Point

Thu, 22 Apr 2004 11:22:29 GMT

There's a line in a song called "Untogether" (by Belly) that I've always loved, but lately it's really nailed if for me:

Sometimes there's no poison like a dream.

D.C. in April

Sun, 18 Apr 2004 22:33:31 GMT

This was inspired by one of the posts in recycling's journal. It's kind of a photo essay of how I spent my day in the place I live. R and I went to the National Gallery of Art to see a showing of Diego Rivera's paintings done during his cubist period.

As you can see, DC has some lovely areas:

I liked the way this street looked from the bottom:

In the National Gallery of Art:

R telling me to hurry-the-hell up:

Our capital - the home of our most revered pundits and politicians :

I'm a girly-girl. I can't help it:

R getting more frustrated with my lolly-gagging:

Check out the "tails" on these park benches - very metal:

Snapped this plane on the way home:

No, your eyes aren't playing tricks on you. This sign actually says what you think it says.
Gotta love oxymorons (no pun intended). I'm sure it was named after Dubya's dad, but still:

Of Course I've Had it in the Ear Before. . .

Fri, 16 Apr 2004 22:27:01 GMT

I'm writing an article about the use of great songs in bad commercials. So far I've come up with the following:

Carnival Cruise Lines: - Lust for Life - Iggy Pop
HP: Pictures of You - The Cure
Cadillac - Rock and Roll - Led Zepplin

And don't even get me started on the latest Victoria Secret commercials featuring Bob Dylan. Ughh. . .
Can anyone contribute to the list? I need some more to write about and I keep going blank :/

Hallelujah!

Wed, 14 Apr 2004 23:14:17 GMT

I love this thing! Go here for a great time waster: http://www.churchsigngenerator.com/

I'm Okay With My Decay. . . Really

Wed, 14 Apr 2004 23:02:19 GMT

I don’t know why I had such a shitty birthday. There was no reason for it. It’s like someone flipped a switch in my head and I was completely miserable. Poor R. He was so patient with me while I sobbed in the corner and claimed, "Nobody loves meeeeeee! I'm soooo old!"
Whatever. . .

Weeks Ahead

Mon, 12 Apr 2004 23:32:52 GMT

I haven’t written in this thing in so long, I almost forgot it was here. The past few weeks have been extremely busy and stressful. I apologize to anyone who actually reads my entries. I’m hoping things will calm down a bit (I think they may already have, hence me writing a journal entry) soon and I will be able to devote more time to this because it is addictive in a weird, sort of voyeristic way. There’s something really cool about looking back at an entry you wrote a year ago and seeing what was going on at the time. This is the closest to year ago I come:

Happy Birthday to Me [13 Apr 2003|08:16am]
[ mood | cheerful ]
[ music | Little Acorns - White Stripes ]

I'm going to the zoo today. YAY!!

2 RSVPs| You're Invited

That was the extent of my journal entry from a year ago on my birthday, which happens to be tomorrow. Woo hoo. I'm sooo excited *deadpan tone*. I'm over 30 now so birthdays aren't what they used to be. We did have fun at the zoo however. . .

Random Photo of the Day

Sat, 13 Mar 2004 23:35:46 GMT

I found this photo of my mother-in-law taken during my wedding. She was dancing with my two friends, Jim and Mo (on either side of her), as well as all my other male friends that night. At one point, she even grabbed my friend Bill's ass. It was very funny. She's a true "diva" as they say. During the wedding, she changed outfits a couple of times and people were laughing, calling her "Cher." She didn't mind though - she likes the attention. Unlike a lot of people, I love my mother-in-law and miss her (haven't seen the in-laws for over a year - they live in Peru). She cracks me up even though she embarrasses R a lot, especially after she's had one too many Cuba Libres or Vodka Tonics. I'm sure I do the same.

In any case, after this photo was taken, Jim and Mo leaned in and kissed each other (they're a couple). I wish I had a photo of her face after that; it was hilarious.

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Nicked from kookyfaerie

Wed, 10 Mar 2004 02:04:09 GMT

FIRST:
First Best Friend: Kelly Porter
First Car: Grey Ford Escort nicknamed "Slip"
First Screenname: my current screenname
First Album/CD: Probably something by Sean Cassidy or Donny and Marie
First Pet: Black Lab named Chico.
First Piercing/Tattoo: ears/ no tattoos
First Credit Card: A Bank of America Visa
First Enemy: John Bertola
First Big Trip: By car: Probably Vermont with the family; By plane: Disney World; By train: Charlotte, NC
First holiday abroad: school abroad in England
First Detention: Probably in Junior High
First Heartbreak: When Simon LeBon became engaged to that Canadian model, Clare Stansfield, in 1983
First Time Dying My Hair: I was fourteen
First Time Getting Really Sick: Had Mono at 6 months

LAST:
Last Cigarette: Friday night
Last Cuss Word Uttered: Probably "fuck"
Last Compliment: "Cute cardigan"
Last Time Driving: Yesterday
Last Big Car Ride: Not sure what constitutes a "big car ride" - Probably driving 6 hours to CT
Last Good Cry: Last week
Last Time Doing A Drug: Prescription? - today; Other? - Two weeks ago
Last Movie(s) Seen: Run, Ronnie, Run
Last Beverage Drank: Water a couple hours ago
Last Food Consumed: a Cobb salad
Last Phone Call: Just got off the phone with my mom
Last Thing Written: a short story I'm working on
Last TV Show Watched: the Today show
Last Time Showered: this morning
Last Shoes Worn: black mary janes
Last Outfit Worn: black and white plaid skirt, white stockings, black mary janes, black shirt
Last Person That You Saw Naked Besides You: R
Last CD Played: Welcome to the Monkey House - Dandy Warhols
Last Item Bought: A Bob Marley jumper for my new niece!
Last Disappointment: Finding out it was too late to put the David Cross DVD on my rental queue in Netflix
Last Annoyance: Spam
Last Ice Cream Eaten: Low Carb Butter Pecan
Last Time Wanting To Die: When I was a moody teenager
Last Piercing/Tattoo: Nose (piercing)
Last Birthday Celebrated: R's 29th

Pop! Goes the Pupil

Sun, 07 Mar 2004 16:12:25 GMT

Last week was the same work craziness. Apparently, it's supposed to slow down this upcoming week when and if we meet this deadline. I hope so. I got so stressed out at one point that I felt something pop behind my eye and now it hurts. My vision hasn't been affected, but it feels like there's a weird little throb behind my pupil. At least I have health insurance now and can pay to go see an optometrist. Strangely enough, a woman I work with suffered hysterical blindness last week.

In other news, my sister came to visit Friday night and we went to see the Church. I hadn't seen them for about four years. They sounded amazing and look great apart from Steven Kilbey sporting a middle-aged pony tail thing. Marty Wilson Piper looked fantastic, of course, and worked it throughout the whole show. We talked to him afterward and he was very chatty and full of himself. I'm glad some things never change. . .

Yep

Sun, 29 Feb 2004 20:58:30 GMT

I'm tired. I worked 60 hours this week and all I want to do is be horizontal. Fuck vertical.

In other news, I can't stop dreaming about New Zealand. . .

Elvis Booty

Sun, 22 Feb 2004 13:59:13 GMT

I just came across this photo taken a couple years ago. This lovely wooden Elvis hangs above my friend's stove in her kitchen. One night a few of us couldn't help but notice how voluptuous Elvis's ass was in his Vegas years. Wow, that's some bootay! He gives J. Lo a run for her money. As you can probably tell from the photo, we were also cooking chili at the time. . . and drinking heavily. Good times. . .

The Art of Gibberish

Sat, 21 Feb 2004 18:55:55 GMT

Google Talk is a great diversion. Check it out:
http://douweosinga.com/projects/googletalk

This is what it came up with after I typed in "I'm going to go":

I'm going to go to hell. in a Handbasket. By the time I Get to Phoenix. she ll be rising, She ll find the NOTE I left hangin on her door.

Get Back

Fri, 20 Feb 2004 00:27:40 GMT

I've been out of town for a while and came back via Amtrak. It was possibly the noisiest ride I've ever taken. I was crowded between a group of Drama Club teenagers loudly discussing their upcoming prom in May ("Oh my God. Oz is way too cool; he'd never ask me to prom!) and some very loud Jersey women and their kids ("Anthony, move your luggage out of the aisle. For Christ's sake, you're going to trip somebody!) Two rows back a guy was treating his seat assignment like a conference room ("The difference in the current sale price and the previous days’ official closing price is still too high.")
Meanwhile, I was bookended between the picturesque scenery of East Coast sludge in mid-February and a woman who wanted to comment on all the noise ("I can't believe he's two rows back. I thought he was right behind us.")

A particularly painful moment occured when one of the drama clubbers started practicing her lines to Macbeth. She started reciting them as we pulled out of Penn Station and for a moment I was convinced she was some Broadway hopeful. Turns out she's totally freaking out about prom and will like die if Oz's brother asks her before Oz does 'cuz she just can't say no! How I managed to finish reading a book during all of this racket remains a mystery. The batteries on my CD player couldn't have died at a worse time.

Noise on a plane is different. There's something about the pressure in a plane that makes everything sound somewhat muted as if people's voices are filtered and softened through the height and the clouds. I was wishing myself on a plane, closing my eyes, and trying to picture myself 36,000 feet above the earth. Plus, I would have killed for a vodka tonic. . .