It Is Perfectly Legal to Have This Much Fun

Test

2008-03-02T21:37:00.001-08:00

Me, drunk at a wedding of some friends...

In My Day, Hipster Boys Didn't Show Their Butt Cracks

2007-07-09T20:33:00.000-07:00

Last week Kevin and I went to this new bar in Montrose called Boondocks because he has a Tuesday night gig with Little Joe Washington. I don't really go out much anymore, and when I do, it's to the same old bar I always go to (Rudz), so I suppose I was a little shocked at how old I felt when I walked into the aforementioned Boondocks.

Specifically, I had this realization:

Back in my day, hipster boys didn't show their ass cracks.

Now I'll grant you, back in 1995 you had boys whacking everyone with their wildly swinging wallet chains and wearing Buddy Holly glasses when they didn't even suffer from myopia. But we didn't ever, ever get a peek of their private parts. Unless we were really drunk and went home with them.

What the hell is going on with these 21-year-old emo/hipster/art school boys with painted-on T-shirts from their middle school days (which happened only a few years ago, for them) and then these tight as hell pants that are showing their ass cracks every time they lean over or merely bend forward slightly at the waist? I saw the bartender's butt and the butt of the sound guy. I mean Jesus.

I'm not even talking about overweight, ugly dudes. (That would make it much worse.) I'm talking about young, attractive men just out of their teens that, quite frankly, don't need to be showing butt to score attention.

Do they not know their butts are showing? Surely they feel the breeze when they bend over? Certainly a girlfriend or friend has noticed and perhaps commented on the situation?

Now I know when I was but a wee lass cell phones weighed 500 pounds and we had these crazy contraptions called Discmans that were portable CD players because iPods hadn't been invented yet. So I know we were deprived and perhaps for that reason we missed out on what might be the fun of showing off your bottom to complete strangers. And sure we were living in the heydey of the Clinton administration and it was a simpler, gentler time, and possibly that's why our young men weren't driven to putting on a peep show everytime they bent over to tie their Converse All Stars. But whatever the reason, you know, I miss that era. Because by God we had a little respect for ourselves. And because in my day, hipster boys didn't show their butt cracks.

White People Are So Lame

2007-01-19T22:42:00.000-08:00

Why are white people so lame?

Tonight Kevin and I went to the Big Easy on Kirby to listen to Grady Gaines and the Texas Upsetters. It was a pretty mixed crowd, but the dance floor seemed full of totally lame white people. You know the type. The type that act as if they've never heard Aretha Franklin's "Respect" before in their entire lives, so when they hear it, they have to jump up and down and dance like lunatics.

"I feel like I'm at a frat party at Sigma Chi, " I whispered to Kevin.

I mean, I love Aretha Franklin, and in theory I love "Respect." But I've heard that song 207,334 times in my life and it's lost some of its magic (sadly). So why are these lame white people dancing as if they've never heard it before EVER? As if they might blow a freaking gasket if they don't get to the part where they can spell out respect with the crowd and then "sock it to me" over and over (along with the sock it to me moves...oy).

It's the same way with, like, the canon of soul songs that white people love to dance to.

The Canon
Brickhouse by The Commodores
My Girl by The Temptations
Celebration by Kool & the Gang
Car Wash (don't know who sings it, but it's the one that goes, "Workin' at the car wash yeah, doo doo dee doo doo dee doo)
Respect by Aretha Franklin
Proud Mary by Ike and Tina
That song where the women sing about prostitutes in French (Lady Marmalade or whatever)

Okay, so I totally know there are more, but you get my drift.

I know I'm not saying anything original here. Much has been said about white people and how we move our asses in this really frightening way when we dance, and much has been said about the white man's overbite and about the way white girls have a scary way of dancing that always makes it seem like one of them is going to run into something with their huge, gigantic purse. But it's on my mind tonight.

I don't know what the answer to this problem is. But evenings like this make it very clear to me why God invented punk music. You know what I'm saying?

What I Have Googled Recently

2006-11-08T18:39:00.000-08:00

I have this weird pain in my right side, like on the right side of my head, my arm, my torso. But only the right side. Here are the things I have Googled lately.

symptoms of brain cancer
symptoms of appendicitis
swollen lymph nodes behind ear
appendicitis and swollen lymph nodes behind ear
symptoms of gall bladder inflammation
swollen lymph nodes behind ear and gall bladder
Britney Spears divorce

The last one is just to see if you were paying attention.

Big Booty

2006-09-26T18:37:00.000-07:00

I babysit for my friend Melissa's kids tonight. Eva is 4, Elena is a little over a year old.

While I was getting them ready for their bath, Eva told me "Your booty is in my way."

"I'm sorry," I responded. "Do I have a big booty?"

"Yeah," Eva responded. "You do."

She then proceeded to use her hands to show me approximations of the booty size of every girl and woman she knows.

"Elena's booty is this big," she said, holding her hands a few inches apart. "My booty is this big." Hands a little further apart. "My mom's booty is a little bigger, like this," she continued, inching her hands out, "and Oh-ma's (grandma's) booty is this big." With that she pulled her hands apart the length of a ruler.

"And what about my booty?" I questioned.

"Yours is this big," she said, adding a generous inch or two to Oh-ma's booty.

"I have the biggest booty?" I asked.

"Yes," said Eva, "you do."

His `n' Hers

2006-07-22T21:18:00.000-07:00

Books Kevin Brought on Our Honeymoon

1. A book about boys growing up in Belgium under the shadow of the Third Reich
2. A biography of James Thurber as thick as a phone book
3. Some book by Gertrude Stein

Books I Brought on Our Honeymoon
1. Some gossipy non-fiction tell all about the secret life of sororities
2. A breezy, witty collections of essays by a non-practicing Jewish woman with large breasts (that she writes about often)
3. The Devil Wears Prada

I am curious about what this means, other than the obvious which is that Kevin is maybe way smarter than me.

Grocery Stores in the Daytime

2006-06-12T13:18:00.000-07:00

It's weird being off during the summer...I find myself going to the grocery store in the middle of the day. Mostly, there are a few distinct types of people at the Kroger at 1 pm on a Monday...basically stay at home moms, unemployed people, people who work the night shift, and...crazy old people.

Crazy old people, especially crazy old ladies, are so sad to watch...God, please don't let it happen to me. They have no one to talk to at home and maybe their kids don't come to visit them or something, I'm not sure.

They get into these long conversations with the checker or they just wander the aisles for hours clutching their coupons. Oh god, I just can't handle it.

Conversation the little old lady in front of me at the check out line had with the young, male cashier who clearly did not give a damn:

LOL (Little Old Lady): Well, it sure is hot out.
Cashier: Yeah.
LOL: I don't like the summer. I stay inside all summer long.
Cashier: Yeah.
LOL: See, I have very fair skin, so I have to stay in.
Cashier: Uh huh, yeah.
LOL: I like the fall and winter though.

OH MY GOD. Seriously, it's going to happen to me...because even though I'm friendly deep down I mostly don't like other people, and I'm going to end up some crazy old lady all alone who has alienated everyone she knows, just wandering the Kroger talking to herself.

Three Months Today

2006-06-11T20:58:00.000-07:00

Three months and still kickin' it.

Jake v. Lloyd

2006-05-25T22:18:00.000-07:00

Jake Ryan or Lloyd Dobler? That IS the question!

The 11-year-old innocent girl in me still wants Jake, but the 18-year-old punk rock depressive wants Lloyd. Now these two facets of my personality have merged, and the question is: Jake or Lloyd?

Let's do the math: Jake was clearly better looking, but Lloyd had that endearing little pointy face. Jake was clearly better looking, but Lloyd liked The Clash. Jake was clearly better looking, but Lloyd was hilarious. Jake was clearly better looking, but Lloyd clutched the boombox. Jake was clearly better looking, but Lloyd didn't want to go out with Diane Court only because she filled out some sex survey in independent study where she put down exactly who she would do it with and then that's why he went out with her!!! I mean, come on...am I the only one who found that totally gross?

Truth be told, it really is no contest. I don't even know why I posed the question. It's Lloyd Lloyd Lloyd.

You know, Kevin is pretty Lloyd-like. I got my Lloyd Dobler except with a truck and not a Chevy Malibu. I married a Lloyd Dobler. Thank you, God.

Here's the other thing I never understood about "Sixteen Candles." How did Samantha and Jake kiss over the cake, and she didn't catch on fire? What is up with that?

Next post: Ducky v. Blane...as if there is even a debate?!?!?! Oh yeah, and I'm now as old as the Annie Potts character in that movie which is totally and completely blowing my mind.

Never Gonna!

2006-05-21T21:44:00.000-07:00

You know what? I'm never ever gonna read "The Unbearable Lightness of Being." I'm never gonna, so why the hell do I keep it on my bookshelf, like haunting me or something.

I AM NEVER GONNA READ THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING!!!!

I bought it like 10 years ago when I was more concerned about looking deep. If stranded on a desert island I would rather have 52 issues of US Weekly than then Unbearable Lightness of blah blah blah cover has a hat flying up in the air whatever.

There's Nothing Like an Old-Fashioned Obscene Phone Call!

2006-05-19T22:14:00.000-07:00

It's close to midnight, and I just got an obscene phone call from a man who claimed we went to school together and he "missed that SWEET ASS!"

What the!?!?!

Is it just me, or are obscene phone calls a little 1987? I mean, in this day and age with the spam and the dirty pictures people can sent you via the Internet and the PENISZ EXXTR BIGG 2NITEE!!!! E-mail messages and God knows what else, obscene phone calls are a little...dare I say...quaint. A reminder of a time when unwanted pornographic communication was not sent via faceless, voiceless computers but through a simple little phone line that connected us human being to human being.

So, to the 48-year-old fat virgin who still lives with his mother...thanks for calling me tonight. You made me believe in the innocence of America again.

And you're right about the ass.

Not Handy

2006-04-30T08:26:00.000-07:00

So I went over to my friend Tamarie's new house this weekend and witnessed the benefits of having a handy man in your life. Tam's man, Zach, is quite handy, creating numerous wooden structures that perform such useful things like holding clothes or makeup or dishes or what have you. Zach makes custom cabinetry. Zach is handy.

Kevin, God love him, is not. I remember once when we were trying to install a window AC Unit and finding him completely unable to do it, I screamed at him.

"My father could fix anything in the house, and you can't even install a window AC Unit!"

"Well," Kevin retorted, "neither can you. If you don't know how to do something, it's probably true that I don't know how to do it either!"

I feel real lousy about that incident...so today I want to make a list of the benefits of having Kevin around even though he is not handy. The man truly is knowledgable...just not about woodworking.

Because of Kevin, I know...

what a click track is
how Keith Moon died
you should never eat inside a tent
the history of Houston head shops
how to get a cat to purr really loudly
how good Grey Gardens is
where the best taqueria is
how the Houston freeway system is laid out
why Thelonious Monk is this really big deal
why Miles Davis is this really big deal
why Howlin' Wolf is this really big deal
all the words to Waterloo Sunset by The Kinks
the best way to make friends with a stray dog
how to identify a bird
how to spend the day doing absolutely nothing
how to be sweet and good

And you know what? I can't cook for shit, but Kevin doesn't give me grief about it.

I LOVE MY NON-HANDY MAN.

Live Crucifixion...TODAY!

2006-04-15T10:45:00.000-07:00

Right now, as I type this...at this church down the street from our neighborhood over here on the East Side there is a man with long hair and a beard covered in "blood" and hanging from a huge wooden cross...it is part of their "live crucifixion."

Seriously, there is a big blue and white banner next to the cross that reads "Live Crucifixion from 7 am to 7 pm TODAY" or whatever...and there's this dude, alive but "crucified" hanging from this cross with streaks of red fake blood covering his nearly naked body. I am not shitting you...Oh yeah, and he's got the crown of thorns thing happening too.

People who I can only assume are fellow church members are on the ground at the foot of the cross looking up and talking to him...when I drove by and saw this sight I literally screamed out loud because it scared me so bad. I hope no kids see it because it is truly disturbing.

I have to say some of the realism is ruined by the fact that the dude playing Jesus is talking back to his fellow church members down on the ground...

(Imagining conversation...)

"Hey Bill, how you feelin' up there?"

"Well, my arms are kinda achy...but, you know, that's nothing compared to what the Lord and Savior went through during the real thing."

"Well....we're heading down the street to the Burger King. Can we get you anything for when you come down?"

"Yeah...a hamburger would be nice."

"Want fries with that?"

"Yeah, some fries would be nice...Heck, I'm playing the Lord and Savior today. I think I deserve some French Fries, don't you?"

(Laughs) "Yeah man, I think you do."

The Outsiders...I heart you (esp. Ralph Macchio)

2006-04-09T16:41:00.000-07:00

So...we got married thank God, and now we can get back to normal. I can't imagine what the hell life was like when you got married and didn't live together first and you were a virgin and everything...

It's nice to be married.

But one weird side effect is that, at least for me, I suddenly feel like a real adult. I mean, Kevin and I still basically live like one step above college students...I mean with our IKEA collection and our "found this on the side of the road" furniture and our glasses with "The Fonz" on them. But there was something about becoming a wife that has made me feel....old...and suddenly I am nostalgic for my kidhood...like, I'm talking 12, 13 years old. Like, back then.

I suppose it doesn't help that I'm teaching "The Outsiders" to my 7th graders right now. That takes me back...I failed a science test in 6th grade because I stayed up all night reading that book instead of studying about amoebas or whatever useless thing it was that I learned in science. After becoming obsessed with the book I became just as nuts about the film, starring unknowns at the time...Ladies, get ready for this roll call: Matt Dillon, Rob Lowe, Tom Cruise (wacko now, true, but not then), Ralph Macchio, C. Thomas Howell, Patrick Swayze, and Emilio Estevez. Rowr. Ralph Macchio was my favorite...I know he was kinda dorky, but whatev.

It had been almost ten years since I'd seen it, but because a new director's cut was released this year, I bought the movie on Amazon about two weeks ago and, when it arrived, I kicked back with a bottle of white wine to watch.

K walked in when I was a little tipsy and just after the Johnny death scene and asked me what the hell was going on...I was kinda crying, and I just yelled out, "I'm having the time of my life here!!"

You see, I think there is a certain group of women a certain age who can remember exactly where they were the first time they heard the words "Let's do it for Johnny!" or "Stay gold, Ponyboy, stay gold." These greaser boys were so super fine in their denim jackets and their Converse and their dirty faces and their cigarettes and so on and so forth...

Basically, that movie is responsible for a whole bunch of women falling for the archetypical bad boy...sensitive yet tortured yet caring yet dangerous...that movie is why I spent roughly 15 years in search of my very own bad boy...and the thing is...well...in movies, that dude always turns out to be a really great catch and an awesome boyfriend and everything. But in the real world more often than not a guy like that most likely is gonna give you chlamydia and break up with you...soo......

Anyway, not sure where this is going. But it's good to be married to a good boy, it's good to be an adult who remembers being a kid, and after all these years Ralph Macchio as Johnny Cade still gets me giggly.

Stay gold, ladies.

OnStar commercials = weeping

2006-03-03T22:13:00.000-08:00

In the name of all that is good and holy on this Earth can I please just get married already.

I had a breakdown tonight when the woman from the reception site sent me a very rude and nasty email about how my florist was doing this and the caterer was doing that and don't I want my deposit back, huh huh huh?

Please Goddess above, protect us.

Tonight I had, essentially, a breakdown of sorts of the wedding kind. Of all the stress associated with all the B.S. that comes with getting married. About how it just consumes you and forces you to make choices that in normal life wouldn't matter one iota to you but in Bizarro Wedding World start to make you feel like you're a part of the fucking Yalta Conference.

Stop asking me:

Are you excited about the Big Day?

Are you excited about your last weekend as a free woman? (sorry, I don't view marriage as some kind of arrest)

Are you calling the caterer/florist/minister/photographer to ask when/where/how/why (mom's favorite questions)?

Are you registered anyplace in particular?

What does the dress look like?

Are you changing your name? Why? Why not? (No one asks Kevin these questions, ahem ahem.)

Can I bring a guest?

Are you just so super duper excited to fullfill your lifelong dream and goal (huh)?

I sound like the biggest super B in this post, and I'm sorry. I'm just exhausted, tired, and bored to death from all this wedding talk. As a little girl, I never dressed up as a bride and I never fantasized about my wedding and I'm completely out of my element at this time.

I is bride. I getting married. Me like married! (Claps hands and drools like the big dumb baby bride I am...there is something infantilizing about being a bride, so maybe I am right on about this metaphor.)

Tonight, in the car on the way home, I started crying at an OnStar commercial. You know, the ones where the woman or man gets in a car accident and then they play the actual OnStar transcript complete with whirring sirens in the background and the woman crying and going, "Oh my god, thank you so much OnStar" like OnStar just cured her terminal cancer and bought her a big new house in the Bahamas.

Well yes one of THOSE ads actually made me cry tonight.

Let's just effing get married.

PS Kevin, I love you. To pieces.

Teeth Fell Out

2006-02-18T22:33:00.000-08:00

I went to get the petticoat today and the seamstress apparently sewed it while drunk. It was all F'ed up...I almost started crying until Sharon talked me down from the ledge (thanks Sharon). Then they brought in master seamstress Juanita who had to crawl around on her hands and knees and fixed it (thanks Juanita).

I had a dream last night that my teeth broke and fell out. They broke into itty bitty pieces.

Marriage is great, but some part of me thinks weddings should be against the law.

I need to just get married already. Let's just get F'ing married.

Teeth fell out.

Here's what the dream experts say about that:

http://www.bellaonline.com/articles/art10573.asp

Petticoat Junction

2006-02-04T13:46:00.000-08:00

I needed a petticoat for my wedding dress, and last night I was in deep fear that I would not ever find one.

Fortunately, my dear friend Sharon helped me locate one...last night we were on the phone while simultaneously surfing the online store of a place in Washington state literally called "Petticoat Junction."

Sample conversation:

"Okay, so this one might be long enough, but it's of that nylon material."

"What I need is, like, a crinoline?"

"Do you think that you could just get a short petticoat and just have it made longer? Or a long one and have it made shorter?"

If you'd told me back in the day when I didn't shave my pits and shit that I would be saying the word "petticoat" approximately 1,254 in one day, I would have thrown my copy of Sisterhood is Powerful at ya and laughed out loud.

We finally found one...we went to a store called "I Do, I Do" and found a nice one that has to be altered. At around 10:30 this morning I found myself standing on a box while a woman with a vague Eastern European accent stuck me with pins and muttered to herself. Not far from me, a fellow bride-to-be sobbed quietly as she was told that her veil was not yet ready.

Instead of calling it "I Do, I Do" it should be called "Torture Chamber for Middle Class Girls."

Anyhoo...so...yeah...I'm getting married!

Appositives

2006-01-20T15:26:00.000-08:00

In the English language, appositives work to rename nouns.

For example, in the sentence...

Joe Montana, a famous quarterback, is signing autographs.

...the phrase "a famous quarterback" functions as an appositive since it renames the noun "Joe Montana." Appositives can be taken out of the sentence and the sentence is still complete.

Joe Montana is signing autographs.

On Thursday, my students were taking a vocabulary test. The test required them to write a short essay using eight of our ten current vocabulary words correctly.

While the students were writing their essays, I was at my desk grading papers. At one point, a student I'll call Jim approached my desk. Now Jim is a relatively quiet student, but he does have the tendency to be what we educational professionals call "a smart ass."

Jim walked over to me and said, "Um, Ms. Zeldagrrrl, can I use two appositives in a row?"

Not sure what he meant, I asked him to clarify with an example.

"Um, like, could I write, `Ms. Zeldagrrrl, a teacher, an old hag..."

He stared at me intently. I placed my pen down. Across the classroom, I could see students wincing, as if they could not believe one of their own could be so dumb.

"You," I said, "cannot be serious. Are you serious? Seriously?"

"I....I....I didn't mean it like that," stammered Jim.

"I'm writing you up, sit down," I announced, reaching for my "Incident Referral Form." These forms require a teacher to write out an elaborate explanation of what happened and when, therefore I rarely write a child up.

Jim got Saturday detention. Today he approached me in the hallway.

"I'm really, really sorry," said Jim. "I was...I was trying to be funny, that's all. I'm really, really sorry."

"It's okay, Jim," I answered. "I don't hold grudges with my students." I accepted his apology sincerely.

You gotta admit...the kid had balls.

How To Eat An Entire Pizza (Almost) In Just One Night

2006-01-15T21:09:00.000-08:00

1. Order pizza.

2. Eat three pieces. Feed crusts to dog.

3. Put remainder in refrigerator.

4. 20 minutes later get one more piece, but don't feel so bad because it's a "skinny" piece. Give the crust to the dog.

5. Wait 15 minutes.

6. Run to the refrigerator and get out a real, honest to god slice. Eat it. Give the crust to the dog.

7. Wait 15 minutes.

8. Repeat until realization that pizza is now gone.

9. Justify that it's okay because it was "Thin n' Crispy" and not deep dish.

10. Justify that it's okay because the dog ate the crusts and that's where all the calories are anyway.

My Cats are in Love with Each Other

2005-12-01T19:32:00.000-08:00

After four years of a platonic friendship that included the occasional grooming and shared Fancy Feast dinner, it's official. My cats are completely and totally in love with each other.

I don't know what the hell has come over Linus and Lucha, but they are basically spending every minute of the day curled up together on my bed. At first I thought it was cute, the way they were all nestled into each other, all sweet and cozy. But now it's starting to get a little creepy. When Linus moves, Lucha moves, and vice versa. They follow each other everywhere, and they groom each other constantly. Sometimes they sit right next to one another, like thisclosetoeachother and just stare off into who knows where.

And...there's the extremely sick thing that happened in the kitchen the other day. Let me only say that I was fortunate enough not to witness this event because certainly if I had, my eyes would have melted. But...the other day, in our kitchen...Kevin witness Linus, um, mounting Lucha. Yes, they were doin' it, cat style.

They are both fixed, people! What the hell is going on. Lucha kind of meowed like he was in pain, and Kevin just sort of clapped and yelled at them to get them to stop.

"Linus eventually got off Lucha, and then I think he went and had a little kitty cigarette," Kevin told me over the phone, laughing his ass off.

"Shut the hell up, you perv," I answered back.

Our friend Tamarie told us that it's just Linus's way of showing dominance, but if you ask me it's a seriously screwed up situation. Also, I think it's kinda sad that Linus and Lucha have more romance in their lives than me and Kevin do...yeah, did I mention that Kevin's latest thing is drinking Monster and staying up until 2 a.m. watching Comedy Central and/or the Cartoon Network while I pass out from the exhaustion of teaching seventh graders English?

Okay, I need some wine now.

Top Ten People Who Annoy Me

2005-11-13T20:42:00.000-08:00

Top Ten Types of People Who Annoy Me

1. People who have allowed television commercials to enter the common vernacular. ("What happens at this party stays at this party. Get it? Like Vegas?" ; "I've got some good news -- I just saved a lot of money on my car insurance. Haha, just kidding. Actually, my wife is pregnant.")

2. People who don't "get" The Golden Girls. This includes a certain man whose name starts with a K and ends with evin.

3. People who think that dude who went hiking and cut off his own arm to free it from a boulder is a hero. Is it just me, or is this guy on Letterman like every other week? You know what I call a guy who guys hiking by himself in a very remote area and doesn't tell a soul where he is going? Stupid.

4. People who say things are "on crack" or "on acid." Just because, like, who says that anymore? And speaking of, does anyone even do crack anymore?

5. People who write checks at grocery stores. Even when it's some little old lady. Especially when it's some little old lady.

6. People who pick their nose while in the car and they think we won't see them. We always see you.

7. People who make Top Ten Lists.

8. People who voted for George W. Bush. This includes you, Dad.

9. People who use the phrase "po-mo" instead of "postmodern."
10. People who use the phrase "postmodern."

Poetry Alive!

2005-11-08T20:35:00.000-08:00

For reasons too long and complicated to go into here, I recently had the opportunity to observe a short performance at a local middle school by a group called Poetry Alive! In case you think I am simply adding that ! for extra emphasis, please know that the ! is simply part of the group's name. And don't you know they earned ever ! of it.

Poetry Alive! is a group based out of North Carolina. It is made up of professional actors (and I mean that in every sense of the phrase) who go around the country acting out poems for schoolchildren.

Imagine, if you will, a cross between an Up With People member on crystal meth and an evangelical Christian who is really, really into Langston Hughes, and you will be able to picture the members of Poetry Alive! The two members I witnessed were a large African American man and a small white woman about the size of a teacup. Together, along with several unwilling children yanked from the audience, they acted out Thayer's "Casey at the Bat" and Edgar Allen Poe's "Bells" among many other poems that were the perfect mix of "classic" children's literature and PC diversity. Poetry Alive! also required audience participation. ("Okay, so, okay, so, when I throw my hands at you, you have to scream, `Bells!' Okay? Okay! Let's try it! Okay!")

It was unfuckingbelievable, people. The performance soon had these two professional actors drenched in sweat, throwing themselves around the library chairs, shouting and screaming and in general acting very, very excited about poetry! And the fact that poetry is alive! Both performers were very professional in their actorness in that they e-nun-ci-a-ted every word and spoke with a slight sort of British accent a la Madonna circa 2000 even though as far as I could tell these performers were not in fact British. They were very earnest. They somehow managed to have talkbacks about Poetry Alive! even though no one asked questions. It was amazing. It was incredible.

Poetry Alive!

I Had a Dream About Standing in Line

2005-11-06T11:52:00.000-08:00

Last night I had a dream that involved one thing: standing in line. Yes, standing in line. My dream involved me standing behind several people while in a line at a bank or some kind of office. While I line, I held a scrap of paper with numbers on it. That was the entire dream: waiting in a line. I never even got to the front. It lasted forever.

What kind of lame-ass life am I leading if my dreams involve standing in line? Standing in a line, for the love of...

Little House on the Prairie...Can I Get a Witness?

2005-11-02T18:28:00.000-08:00

Hey ladies, all the ladies...who's into Little House? I'm talking the books, not the television series. Fine if you were into the TV series, but I'm talking the BOOKS.

I've read them all. I still have the series my mom bought me at a garage sale for $5. All 8 books in the series for like $5. Last Christmas, my dad built me a little wooden bookcase to hold them all. The collection is among my most prized possessions.

The Little House books make me feel safe, warm, and loved. They transport me to a simpler time. When I was 8, I pretended to be Laura Ingalls Wilder every day of the summer. This included dressing in my mom's old 70's wraparound dresses (magically transformed into dresses made of calico...at least in my mind)...then I would go out to fetch water (a.k.a. go to the garden hose).

Yes, I pretended to be Laura Ingallas Wilder while all alone in my backyard and dressed in some von Fursternberg knock-off. Who cares.

I'm kind of drunk right now.

Woop woop Little House!

Can I Take a Moment away from the Lunacy

2005-10-29T14:09:00.000-07:00

Vote against Prop 2 because it's ridiculous. More info here:

http://www.nononsenseinnovember.com/

I just went and early voted, and it was scarily easy to do so because the polling station was so empty.

Okay, no more politics...hi-jinks about my underpants and my cats to return tomorrow.

But vote, damn it!

Kevin is Marrying a Fraud

2005-10-29T12:34:00.000-07:00

I just realized that the dude who played "Buster Poindexter" and sang that annoying-as-hell 80s tune "Feelin' Hot Hot Hot!" was also the lead singer of the New York Dolls...didn't know it before, but I know it now.

How do I know this? I just watched about four hours of "I Love the 80s 3-D" on VH-1.

When Kevin is not home, I become a 16-year-old boy. Beer, pizza, and jerkin' off. That's what I do when he's not here. But more than anything...I watch the television that he denies me...moronic, pointless clip shows on E! (The 101 Most SHOCKING Runway Moments, E! True Hollywood Story: The Curse of the Exorcist, etc.), moronic, pointless clip shows on VH1 (Best Week Ever, Surreal Life), and episode upon episode of Law and Order.

WHY DO YOU DENY ME THESE THINGS KEVIN? AM I NOT A HUMAN BEING?

When he's here, I'm all about reading The New Yorker, watching PBS, and crap like that. I've just realized our marriage is totally going to be based on lies. I am a mirage. I am a phony. If I had to choose between The New Yorker and a marathon of America's Next Top Model I would choose America's Next Top Model. In a heartbeat.

Feelin' hot hot hot...

Astroworld Fashions

2005-10-25T21:09:00.000-07:00

This is a little late, but can I tell you about the fashions I witnessed at Astroworld this past Saturday afternoon?

Fresh off the Paris runway, it's camel toe time with just a hint of frayed denim. Yes, ladies, just hike up those too-small denim shorts and give us all a glimpse of what's down below. Shy about your dimpled thighs showing or a pubic hair breaking free? Please. What's a little dimple of fat or one stray curlicue in the world of glamour?

Make sure to pair these lovely shorts with a tank top that barely covers your bosom (the bigger the bosom the better, natch). Tank top colors in this season: HOT pink, black, or envy-me green.

Now, for maximum style, it's a must to have a fun little slogan printed across the front of your shirt. Some of the slogans I saw at Astroworld included PORN STAR, IF YOU CAN'T FIND YOUR BOYFRIEND HE'S WITH ME, MILF-IN-TRAINING, and the ever-popular IT'S ALL ABOUT ME. Aren't those slogans *such* a laff-riot? I mean, do you think you could *find* anything more original or snarky than those slogans? I bet the person who makes them up is probably just the funniest person alive, don't you think?

For the fellas...make sure your wifebeater is a wee bit dirty to help draw attention to that oh-so-original tribal armband you have tattooed on your bicep. Now, for the shorts. Are they hangin'? Can we get a glimpse of your boxers (Tasmanian Devil boxers, of course)? Awesome. That's what we want to see. Now get your `Stros ball cap tilted to one side and look like you could assault someone in the parking lot, and you're golden.

Keep it crunk y'all.

The Joy of Taco Cabana

2005-10-19T19:26:00.000-07:00

How is it physically possible that I have existed in this city for over five years and until Wednesday of this week I HAD NEVER BEEN TO A TACO CABANA?

I was under the impression that the T.C. (my loving lil' nickname for this establishment) was just a greasy, gross, Taco Bell wannabe. Let me say this: Taco Bell is rhymes with Hell for a reason. Their food is crap. Crap rolled up in a little tortilla. I've eaten Taco Bell once in my life because my sister insisted, and when I picked it up from the drive through, (note I do not say drive-thru; I'm an English teacher, damn it) the "employee" at the window literally rubbed her arm/hand against her nose and then handed me my food.

Taco Cabana is a different story. T.C. is fresh, not too greasy, affordable, has a veggie option BESIDES bean burritto, has friendly people at the window, takes credit cards, is open all the time, and is close to my work establishment.

Thank you T.C. I am only sorry I will die someday and will not have taken full advantage of my T.C. time.

Thank you also to my co-worker who turned me on to the stuff.

Slim-Fast for Dinner

2005-10-13T18:29:00.000-07:00

Conversation that just happened between K-Dawg and myself:

ME: "I don't feel like making dinner, so I'm just going to have a can of Slim-Fast. Do you think that's gross?"

KEVIN: "I don't know. By cooking do you mean putting a frozen dinner in the oven?"

ME: "Go fuck yourself."

On a side note...if you say `can of Slim-Fast' real fast, it sounds like you're saying `can of Whoop-ass.'

The Girls Next Door

2005-09-26T17:59:00.000-07:00

Okay, so it's been too long.

Here is my rant on E! Entertainment Television's reality show entitled "The Girls Next Door." This show follows three of Hugh Hefner's girlfriends who live at the Playboy Mansion and take turns servicing him. The oldest is 31. The youngest is 21. They are all blond with big tits, and they all speak in this weird California upspeak that, if you close your eyes, makes them sound not unlike junior varsity cheerleaders. They have no apparent jobs, other than lolling around the Mansion waiting for Hef to dictate their next move.

Straight up let me say this. I'm all about the ladies getting their sex positive groove on, getting their vibrators, getting their erotica, what have you. I'm all about embracing your body and wearing short skirts if ya' wanna and shit like that...but if I might...can I please let the armpit hair sportin' "Sisterhood is Powerful" quotin', bra-ditchin' 1970s old school feminist take you for a spin for a minute?

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THESE WOMEN!?!?!

First of all, they must sleep with Hef. Hef is old. His ass is most likely flabby. He is not, in any way, attractive. Money and fame and power equals sexy to you? Fine, whatever. Let me say this...somewhere in this world of ours there must be a man closer to your own age who also has money, fame, and power yet who doesn't need an Viagra IV drip to do you for 5 minutes.

Second, they must sleep and date ONLY Hef. Yet Hef is allowed to screw and see whoever he wants.

Third, THEY HAVE A CURFEW. A 9:00 pm curfew. The last time I had a curfew I had a poster of Kirk Cameron on my walls and boobs that could barely fill a juice glass. Basically, I was like 14 years old. Any man who gives an adult woman a curfew is an asshole. Any adult woman who allows a man to give her a curfew is a fucking idiot with self esteem so low she makes a teenage anorexic look empowered.

Fourth, they live in the equivalent of dorm rooms at the Mansion, complete with little dry erase boards on their respective doors. Sorry, but you reach a certain age you deserve your own kitchen. Even if you're like me and all you use it for is to mix gin and tonics.

Fifth, even though one of them claims she has her Master's Degree and is working toward a DOCTORATE, she weeps because Hef has never asked her to be in the magazine (none of the girls have been featured). One of the other girlfriends says being in the magazine would give her "legitimacy" as one of Hef's gals. The third is too dumb, I think, to realize that in a few short years she will be traded in for an even younger, blonder model without getting the $$$ from one stupid Playboy shoot.

Sixth, the saddest and most pathetic episode to date followed one of Hef's former gals (Barbi something), now in her 50s or 60s, paying a visit to the Mansion. With her dyed hair covering her obvious plastic surgery scars, she tried desperately to flirt with Hef and catch his attention once again, to the disdain of his three younger girlfriends.

"Frankly, she's just too old for Hef now," said one of the three dim bulbs, obviously ignorant to the fact that she had just witnessed her own pathetic future.

Phew.....okay, that took a lot out of me. Next week I'll try to figure out "Breaking Bonaduce" for you.

Revolution sisters!
Zeldagrrrl

Me and Mr. Bix

2005-08-06T14:11:00.000-07:00

Kevin's cat is a black and white shorthair who is grossly overweight. Kevin named him Bix after some musician who was juuuuust obscure enough to befuddle the mainstream but juuuuust well-known enough to impress music snobs such as himself. Good going Kev. Me? I probably would have named him Ricky Martin. But I digress.

When my two cats and I moved in a little over a year and a half ago, Bix was more than a little angry. He started peeing in the kitchen sink on a regular basis. He also crapped in front of us one time. Like, he literally sauntered into the living room and crapped in front of us while we were watching television. He kinda looked over his left shoulder while he was doing it too. I screamed in horror but deep down inside my respect for Bix grew a little that evening.

The poo incident was ages ago. Bix has settled in to having me and my two cats here as permanent residents. The anger he once directed at me for taking away the affections of his master has transformed into a twisted, sick affection for me in particular.

Bix humps my arm. Seriously. Whenever I lie down on the couch he races over, leaps up, bats my arm around like a dead mouse until he gets it in the exact right position, then swings one of his fat hind cat legs over it and has at it. Humpity hump hump.

At first Kevin tried to stop the behavior, but whenever he would try to pull Bix off my arm mid hump, he would respond with a weird, primal meow (Bix would, not Kevin).

Okay...but here is the really disturbing part. I don't mind it. In fact, I have even started to look forward to it. Because as Bix humps he also kneads my belly with his paws. You know how cats do that? And...I don't know, but it's just kind of relaxing. It just puts me in this weird Zen place. Just a little kneading in my belly and I'm out for the night.

Should I be reported to PETA?

Sung to the tune of "Me and Mrs. Jones": Me and Mr. Bix...we've got a thaaaaaaang....goin' on....Me and...Me and...Me and Miiiiiiiiiiiister Biiiiiiiix....yeah yeah yeah.

The Poo Goes Down

2005-07-26T13:31:00.000-07:00

So our toilet (our one and only toilet) is on the fritz.

It all started Sunday night when Kevin's urine would not flush. We tried plunging and plunging and nothing worked. It would flush real lazy-like, like some urine would go down and sort of swirl around in the bowl. But there was not that one satisfying flush that lets you know God's in His Heaven and all's right with the world.

So we kept plunging.

Well Monday arrives and when I got home I proceeded to have a bowel movement. And I flushed. And I thought it went down, thought the problem was fixed. I mean, I looked down into the bowl and there was nothing.

Kevin came home an hour or so later and started walking to the bathroom.

"It seems like it's working," I announced. "I guess my poo went down."

There was silence from the bathroom...then Kevin goes, "Except...it didn't."

I raced to the john. My poo had somehow slid back into the toilet bowl from wherever I thought it had gone. Sneaky little turd...how dare it betray me!

You know, there are just a few things in life I think you should be able to trust:

**The light goes off in the refrigerator when you shut the door.
**The birth control pill is not candy and actually, truly, 99% of the time really works.
**The poo goes down.

When I saw my poo just sitting there I screamed, "Oh my God, my poo! It's back! I'm so grossed out!"

"We're never having sex again," Kevin replied.

Now that I've gone ahead and revealed too much, I'll say we spent the night peeing in the shower. The plumber came today and we have to get our pipes cleaned to the tune of $$$$$. The toilet might get fixed, but let me say I lost a little bit of my innocence last night.

You are NOT the father!!!

2005-07-18T11:18:00.000-07:00

There are several specific reactions that can happen when paternity test results are revealed on the Maury Povich show.

The result is: "You are NOT the father!"

Woman's reaction might be: Head in hands, shaking of head, running off the stage sobbing, collapsing into Maury's arms as he says, "We can have you come back Tawny. We can help you find the real father." Variation on this theme might be woman sobs and pulls at man saying, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

Man's reaction might be: Jumps in the air, punches the air, swaggers in front of the stage representin' for the audience. Repeatedly says, "I TOLD ya bitch, I TOLD ya!"

Woman's reaction might be: Puts hand in the face of man who has been revealed not to be the father, gives a "Oh no you didn't" look and shrugs shoulders. Says, "Whatever, whatever, whatever Maury...I didn't want this BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP to be the father of my baby, no way Maury."

Man's reaction might be: Breaking down in sobs, accusatory looks directed at woman, might say something along the lines of "You BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP, you BEEEEEEEEEEEEP." Runs off to the back and sobs, tells Maury it doesn't matter, he is still going to buy that baby diapers and "love `em like he's my own." Sidenote: This is always the most sympathetic figure on Maury's paternity test shows.

The result is: "You ARE the father!"

Woman's reaction might be: Head shaking, finger in the face of man, crossing arms and leaning back with smirk on face. "I TOLD ya you was the father you BEEEEEEEP!" Self satisfied grin directed at audience. Variation on this theme might be woman cries with joy and embraces man, both of them forgetting her extramarital affair forever. Or at least for the remainder of the show.

Man's reaction might be: Stunned stare, maybe a little drool even starts to form in the corner of the man's mouth. Stares at hands, stares at audience, stares at Maury. Might run backstage where he is promptly greeted with a Maury staff member who puts a mewling baby in his arms. Man stares at baby and promises to Maury he will buy diapers and "be a father to my kid." Audience erupts in cheers.

Woman's reaction might be: Sobs, head in hands, running off backstage, etc.

Man's reaction might be: Starts crying with happiness, looks up at the ceiling, thanks God, hugs woman as they collapse in tears. Baby is brought out by Maury staffer, audience oohs and ahhs.

The Weather Channel People

2005-07-15T12:09:00.000-07:00

So...are the people on the Weather Channel like the rejects from Broadcast Journalism school or what? Do Charlie Rose and Lou Dobbs and Diane Sawyer get together over drinks and just talk shit about them?

I've been watching the channel a lot lately, what with this weather we're having. The women have big 80s hair...the men look like they're wearing foundation. They have this weird, sad, nervous look to them. They look like maybe they're one step away from ending it.

The best is when one of the female forecasters is pregnant, like way pregnant. I saw one that basically blocked the whole map whenever she turned to the side. Half of her forecast was her belly.

The viewers are like:

"Oh, I see...it's raining in Biloxi and in New Orleans it's...pregnant with a chance of twins."

At The University Library...

2005-07-13T17:13:00.000-07:00

Currently, I'm at the library of a local university...I'm in teacher training this week and have barely a moment to myself. I've been checking my E-mail here, which is odd. I am used to checking my E-mail at home in my underpants. As you may have guessed, I can't do that at the university library.

Things I Have Observed At the University Library:

A girl sitting next to me tooted and pretended she didn't. (I would have too.)

People don't turn off their cell phones EVEN THOUGH IT'S A FUCKING LIBRARY.

Some people just walk around, but I don't think they're looking at any books.

Some people sleep in the chairs.

People whisper to each other but they won't turn off their cell phones EVEN THOUGH IT'S A FUCKING LIBRARY.

****A little girl left a paper she wrote at the terminal next to mine. It is entitled The Awful Truth.

It reads:

This is the awful truth.
Once upon a time thewhere two cool kids named george and harold. They had a mean old principle named Mr. Krupp. One day Mr. Krupp punished george and harold. so they got a hypno ring and hypnotized him. They made him think he was a super hero. so george stole some super power juice from a UFO. The principle ate it. It gave him super powers. THE END.

I don't know what a hypno ring is, but I think I am aiming to get one.

Hush Hush, Keep it Down Now...

2005-07-10T23:12:00.000-07:00

Voices carry...Hush Hush, keep it down now...voices carry.

Yes, good old rat-tailed Aimee Mann and her infectious `Til Tuesday concoction is stuck in my head and I can't get it out and I can't go to sleep.

It's 1:13 in the AM and I just finished a freelance article for the Journal of the American Dietetic Association. (Just like Playboy, people read it for the articles.) This particular piece was about a newly coined term "orthorexia nervosa" which is basically an eating disorder where the sufferer is not obsessed with weight loss but with acheiving a "perfect" or "pure" diet. This involves complex rules and a lot of guilt and "punishing" behavior when the person eats a "wrong" or "bad" food.

My favorite quote was from this OCD expert who said, "Obsessions are as varied as the creativity of the human mind."

I have a little touch of the OCD. When I was younger, I needed to touch things an even number of times and repeat certain phrases whenever I looked at the clock and it had all the same numbers (e.g: 3:33 or 4:44). I wasn't as bad as David Sedaris, but I had it enough that I was like, "What is up with this?" I asked my Dad about it and he said, "You'll grow out of it."

I did, for the most part, but my obsession with touching and phrases was subsequently replaced with:

Fingernail biting
Hair pulling
Scalp picking
Always having to have the television on Channel 5 before I turn it off
Always having to check the oven before we leave on a trip like 20 times
Developing severe hypochrondria
Developing whacked out panic attacks

Oh...also, no riding elevators for like two years.

I know I'm going to get, like, whacked upside the head for this by some depressive. But sometimes I wish I had been wired for depression instead of anxiety/OCD. Depression is so much more attractive and artsy and, frankly, requires less energy. The depressives are all Plath and Hemingway-like with their poetry and their suicides and their winters of their discontent and all that. Depression is beds and wasting disease and sleeping for ten hours and The Smiths.

Who do the neurotics have? Basically, making color-coded TO DO Excel spreadsheets at 3 in the morning, throwing up, repeating the same phrase or song lyric over and over and over again in bed, chewing your hair, nervous tics, rocking back and forth in your chair while jiggling your foot up and down, and Woody Allen.

The depressives get sympathy and the neurotics get laughed at.

Hush hush...keep it down now...voices carry. Hush hush...keep it down now...voices carry. Hush hush...keep it down now...voices carry. Hush hush...keep it down now...voices carry. Hush hush, keep it down now...voices carry...etc.

Feel free to tell me I'm wrong...I probably am. Don't be too mad with what I've just said.

Oh yeah, obsession number 328: People will hate me.

Hot As Balls

2005-06-16T16:07:00.000-07:00

Where the hell did this phrase come from, and why do I continue to use it even though its origins are unknown to me.

"It's hot as baaaaaawwwwllls, y'all."

My diction, my euphemisms, my phrasing, even my accent has changed over my 28 years as I've moved from place to place...For example when I lived in Chicago I tended to use the phrase "schlep" as in "I'm gonna schlep over to the Jewel and get some raw cookie dough to eat with my wine." I also started using the phrase "pop" instead of soda.

One persnickity thing I refused to use was the queer Midwestern way of not finishing a sentence. Instead of "I'm going to the Jewel to get some raw cookie dough to eat with my wine, do you want to come with me?" they would say, "I'm going to the Jewel to get some raw cookie dough to eat with my wine, do you want to come with?"

Yes..."Do you want to come with?"

Totally ridiculous.

Now I say y'all and hot as balls...hot as a crotch, that's a good one...don't know if that's regional though.

Cinemania

2005-06-11T13:58:00.000-07:00

Man, I wish Kevin would agree to watch movies like "Freddy Got Fingered" with me...but he won't...

Sample conversation at Cactus when we're trying to pick out a movie:

ME: Hey, lets get Freddy Got Fingered!!!

KEVIN: No thanks, I'd rather watch this four hour German film.

ME: What about Anchorman? With Will Farrell? Wanna watch that?

KEVIN: No, the German film will be fine. It's full of postmodern Jungian undertones mixed with contemporary Dadaist critiques. It's going to be fascinating.

ME: Hey man, I thought I was the one in this family who went to Northwestern.

KEVIN: It doesn't show, does it? Now pick up your drool cup and your copy of Old School to watch later when you're alone and let's go home.

So I Got Electrocuted Today...

2005-06-08T19:18:00.000-07:00

I went to a sports medicine place for my arm. They electrocuted me -- specifically, they attached small electrodes to my arm and delivered low levels of electricity in an attempt to relax my damaged shoulder muscles.

"It's gonna feel like ants crawling on your skin," said the female aide who assisted me. "I'm gonna turn it up higher and higher and you tell me when it gets to the point where you feel like you just can't take it anymore."

Uh....oh....kay.

It felt odd, but not uncomfortable. I sat there with these little electric pulses running all over my shoulder, just staring out the window at breathtaking downtown Houston.

The treatment occurred in a large room with several chairs that looked like they could have belonged in a dentist's office. As I sat receiving my treatment a handsome looking young man in his very early 20s walked in and sat down in the chair facing mine. He took his shirt off and the aide attached electrodes to his shoulder, just as she had done with me.

The boy also took his socks and shoes off, and that's when it got weird. The aide straddled the end of the chair facing him and proceeded to rub his feet with some lotion as both the boy and I were getting electrocuted. The aide was young and quite attractive, and I found myself wondering if the young man was nervous about getting his feet rubbed by such a cute girl. However he simply immersed himself in a book about Lance Armstrong.

All in all it was quite a weird experience. I kept waiting for Dennis Hopper to come in and start doing some weird sexual thing in front of us but that didn't happen.

Cold Hot

2005-06-06T18:43:00.000-07:00

I've screwed up my arm somehow...it hurts...my right arm.

I've utilized the Kroger version of "Icy Hot" which is called "Cold Hot." I find it hard to understand why "Icy" is somehow a copyrighted word but "Cold" is free for the taking. So is "Hot."

I worked out anyway. I'm 28, I eat heart healthy, I do aerobics three times a week. What the hell happened to me.

Anyway, I did this work out called "Power Blast" that involves biometrics. That's a fancy word for jumping. Now I'm sitting in a sport bra and shorts, I'm all sweaty, I'm drinking a Bud and I'm stinking of "Cold Hot."

It's good to be an American.

Fat Cats

2005-05-30T20:48:00.000-07:00

Kevin is in the living room right now listening to what he describes as "African psychedelic rock from the 1960s." You think I'm kidding? Ha! This is what happens to you when you get older...it's too hard to follow the hip and the now, so you just start getting really, really into world music. Oh well, I'm headed that way myself, probably.

Tonight I drew a little heart on his shoulder with a pen, and then I asked him to draw something on my back. He drew a little bunny rabbit in the middle of the desert, standing next to a cactus and staring out at a sunset. Am I lucky or what?!?!?!

I just looked over at one of our cats. They are disturbingly fat. When they walk, their belly fats just rock back and forth ever so gently. I don't know if it bothers them or not, but I say let the cats be fat. They only have one life to live while we as humans are lucky enough to have Eternal Salvation in Heaven with our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, if we follow his way and his word.

Wow, it was weird/crazy to write that. I just wanted to see what it felt like to be an evangelical Christian for a minute...I felt very sure of myself. It was a strange feeling.

No offense to evangelical Christians. Do what floats your boat. Just stay off mine.

That's as political or whatever as I'm going to get on this blog. Tomorrow it's back to Cathy cartoon shit like worrying about my butt in a bathing suit and should I eat this candy bar? Aaack!!!

Seal It Up!

2005-05-27T07:52:00.000-07:00

Today I'm thinking about things my father taught me. I think the most important lesson I ever learned from my dad is:

When you are taking a shower, make sure to take the shower curtain (or liner, if you have one of those) and create a seal inside the bathtub. If you don't...if you, say, just let the shower curtain hang outside the tub...well, water just goes everywhere. All over the floor, all over the bathroom carpet, etc. I realized the importance of this lesson this very morning when I went into the bathroom and found K-Dawg recreating an Esther Williams movie in our john.

So remember, seal it up!

Other Important Things My Dad Taught Me

Area = length times width.
The more efficiently you stack a dishwasher, the more money you save!
Always check the pilot lights before going to bed, or you could die.
Weird guys can see inside a lit bedroom at night easier than they can when it's daytime.
If you take a crap, don't spray that flowery smelling spray stuff, because then you only end up with flowery smelling crap.

Thanks Dad.

I Have Been Ignoring White Wine

2005-05-25T18:21:00.000-07:00

So I just got back from some drinks with an old friend...I had several glasses of white wine. I think I have been writing off white wine for too long now. During a hot Houston summer it is actually as refreshing as a cold beer...but without the gassy feeling you get from chuggin' too many brewskis. Also, it does not stain your teeth and lips like red wine.

Up until tonight, red wine seemed more sophisticated, more adult...a more cigarette smokin', philosophy readin', nervous artistin' kinda thing. Now I realize I've been ignoring the virtues of el vino blanco.

Or maybe I'm just getting old.

Talk to me in about 3 years and I'll be going on and on about the glories of wine spritzers or some shit like that.

Bowling Alley

2005-05-24T21:42:00.000-07:00

The name of this blog comes from a sign I saw at a bowling alley once.

Right now I'm reading "Don't Kill The Freshman" by Zoe Trope. It's a memoir by a then 15-year-old high school freshman. Oh my god. The bicurious angst is just dripping off the page. The part where she starts reading Bukowski in the hallway is enough to make you pee your pants. It's crazy. Shit, I still have my old high school diaries...anyone want to give me a six figure book advance for them? Still, I can't look away. We were all there once. She's just lucky to make some money off her teen alienation.

(Best line from Heathers: "My teen angst bullshit has a body count.")

I'm almost done with Andrea Dworkin's memoir "Heartbreak: Political Memoir of a Feminist Militant." Man, if that doesn't get the guys at the coffee shop running my way I don't know what will...actually, who cares if they run. I'm engaged.

There's something really awesome about the way an engagement ring just deflects guys. The last time I was drinking alone at Rudz this gross old drunk started hitting on me, offering to buy me a drink...then he spotted the ring. "You married?" (Or rather....youuussh marriedsfgfdfd?")

"I'm engaged," I told him...and he backed off. If I hadn't been engaged I would have had to tell him to scram, leave me alone, I want to read and drink in peace.

Nothing better in the world sometimes than a book, a drink, a pub grub meal and being all alone.

Oh, and I got the new Sleater Kinney album today, The Woods. It's kinda Led Zeppleny in this really unexpected way. The songs are like 5 minutes long with guitar solos and everything. But the girls of SK are still rocking hard, and that's what matters to me. The minute they get all vagina music on me is the day I stop listening.

Okay enough for now, I'm going to bed.

Zine Queen Accepts Blog World

2005-05-24T15:32:00.000-07:00

I used to make a zine, now I'm writing in a blog. I miss the smell of rubber cement but I dare say this is cleaner.

I'm drinking Lone Star out of the old fashioned cans (65th anniversary) and watching the double G (that's girl slang for The Golden Girls).

Okay, that's enough for now.