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Friday, May 23, 2003

This has to be what Charlie looked like when he was a puppy. Since I adopted him as an adult, I'll never know for sure. But Big Gray is obsessed with knowing. This one's for you, baby.

Someone needs to tell these kids about IM...

It's been brought to my attention that I referred to V+'s roomate as "Johnny" all night when it is in fact Tommy. Sorry about that.

This is priceless. Make sure you read the "about" so that you can appreciate it's monumental importance.

All this steam over a crap article in MSN Entertainment
Letter to D McNutt (blog out is apparently not working)
Look, if you want to be a prick and talk down to people, do it on your own time and your own blog. No one appreciates you constantly turning light hearted conversations into how much you know and how your righteous indignation is once again aflame.
What exactly are you trying to prove? There are ways to voice your opinions without suggesting that opinions otherwise are completely invalid.
No one was suggesting that smoking isn't a problem with Americans. It was being argued whether it was fair to out Nicole Kidman as the devil's apprentice for smoking a fucking cigarette on vacation in France. I think no, you think yes.
Just save all the legalese for the lobbyists.
Love,
Mame.

We all slept 'til noon
Check out fotolog c-town for pitcures of the show last night. 4 bands in 4 hours. I'm beat. Just in case anyone was wondering, Iceberg's little brother's band sucks. Big time. Bill's comment was that they were doing it up "Macon style". It makes perfect sense if you have ever been to Macon. But they are young and hopefully they will grow out of it or just stop playing all together.

The France was good, as usual, with a spirited cover of "I Love LA".

But the reunions. My goodness. YMSP 1982 brought me to my knees again. I think at one point Brandon or Big Gray put some MP3's of their songs online. You should convince them to do it again. BB, let's take that act on the road. Chris Bishop said to me, in a moment of rare excitability at 2:30am, that if you had stayed in town you two would be bigger than 40 watt.

Aaron, your presence was notably missed throughout the evening, as was yours Red. Transmatique pulled everything off, even the flags which in my mind were much more questionable than in reality. Well received and well loved.

Congratulations, boys. Always a pleasure.

Thursday, May 22, 2003

Is everyone having weird trouble with Blogger or is it just me?

What the hell is going on in India?

Would I really want to live past 100? I mean I think it's safe to say that I won't, but think about it...

Banana flavored everything
Why is it that a banana in a lunch bag permeates everything and gives it the banana taint?

Don't rain on my parade...
...or at all, really. After living in drought conditions for the past (2? 3?) years, Georgia has finally reached the point where we really don't need any more rain. At least not immediately. There are flood warnings everywhere and frankly I'm sick of being wet. Of course I have 5 umbrellas but can't ever find them when I need them.

And while we're on the subject, Georgia, you are all wimps. You think the water restrictions here are so limiting. Talk to me when you have to have all the toilets in your house replaced to comply with the low usage restrictions. You can only water your perfectly manicured lawn every other day and only in the morning? Try not at all. Try replacing your lawn with lava rocks and ice plant. Try not washing your SUV every three days.

My mother drives an SUV. It's a major point of contention.

Wednesday, May 21, 2003

Are we rolling Bob?
Ok, I didn't make it to the Foreigner box set. I did, though, make it Nashville Skyline. When I was dating Al Pacino (not the real one) his alarm clock was set in his CD player and I would always request that we wake up to this record.

When we eventually broke up, I stole it from his room as a consolation prize. Months later when he called and asked about it, I lied. I already owned it, but I didn't think that he deserved to have it all the same. But I was foiled, because I still can't listen to it and not think about how for just a moment, every morning, he was exactly who I wanted him to be. But only for a moment.

His name wasn't actually Al Pacino, but he bore such a remarkable resemblance to him that he has since then been dubbed since we no longer speak his name.

Big Gray was my next love. It's been so long that sometimes I forget how lucky I am.

Signin' yo' pitty on the runny kine
1. Ruben won American Idol
2. I won the stare down between me and one of the cats
3. Watched the last 20 minutes of Pootie Tang

As usual, Paula Abdul mananged to say a whole lot, but absolutely nothing at all.

As I learned from LJJ's dad, when you drink wine from juice glasses you tend to shoot it and drink more than you should.

I'm about to go get the Foreigner box set and make our neighbors wish we never moved in.

Dammit V+, your blog shut down my computer. And I'm not the only one with complaints...

So Big Gray went to Mark's for disaster movie night or something but I've decided to stay here and drink that bottle of wine in the dining room.

The falafel wrap I had but a few hours ago is trying to kill me.



come one, come all.

I have to get this down before it all escapes me
One thing that I might miss when I leave this job in July are the occassional delinquents that I get to talk to. Oh sure, there are the constant phone calls from prison inmates, one in particular that calls daily, but the real joy I find in the socially corrupt, the emotionally void, the attention hungry. Is there a counterpart to Munchausen syndrome for people who crave attention from lawyers? Would that fall under a definition of Munchausen syndrome? I have lawyer friends. Enlighten me.

One of our more ridiculous clients has a crush on me. He's 40, retired, a compulsive liar, successful but not nearly as successful as he'd like you to believe, and emotionally destroyed. He calls often and tells me about his 18 year old conquests and despite my duty as a simple assistant, I couldn't help but tell him that he had no business dating 18 year olds. He's sort of an ass, a bragger, a name dropper. But he's also a recent widower and as much as I want to detest him, I feel real sympathy for him.

He is currently in trouble for refusing to pay what he thought were excessive charges on his credit card at the local strip joint for private lap dances.

And last week I had to tell him that getting a DUI is only tarnishing his credibility in the community and in court.

I. Love. Todd. Rundgren.


Tomorrow Transmatique and YMSP 1982 will take the stage in a reunion to beat all reunions. I hear that YMSP is a little rusty, but truth be told I have always liked them more than Transmatique. Trans is funny, clever, with not so thinly veiled but completely ambiguitous political allegiance. And bad German accents. And a lot of synth. I appreciate that. But YMSP just fucking rocks. At any rate, I can't wait for the power to take over. I promise to take lots of pictures to share. Maybe I'll take strictly analogue photos since I still haven't mastered my new digital camera. Besides, my other cameras are starting to talk. I hear whispers of revolt.
We are America!

I just sneezed and it sounded like a rocket going off.

I have the greatest sister-in-law ever. She sends me stuff like this.
"They pressed a lot of S's," researcher Mike Phillips said Friday. "Obviously, English isn't their first language."

Tuesday, May 20, 2003

Could Mohammed move a mountain or was that just PR?
I did myself the enormous favor/disfavor this weekend and watched Jesus Christ Superstar for the first time in years, but for about the 6,000th time. Fucking amazing.
I haven't seen it in a while due to the fact that I was mildly obsessed with it when I was dating YL years ago and didn't particularly want to drum up any undo pain. Not really understanding my obsession, with good reason, YL secretly got me tickets to see Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. God was it awful. What he didn't understand was that it isn't the fact that it's Rice or Webber or Jesus or the bible or any combination of the two. There is something really weird and hypnotic about it. Probably has a lot to do with the 70's sensibility and the liberal use of electric guitars. Maybe it's all the belled cords and tank tops. Maybe it was Norman Jewison.

At any rate, if you have never seen the big screen production of JC Superstar, prepare to be stricken like a leper with it's power. And don't, under any circumstances, memorize the entire thing like I did. I've been singing the entire score straight through for 2 days. Particulary touching are my renditions of Pilate's Dream and Mary's I Don't Know How to Love Him. Somebody please stop me.

Cable modem=rad.
Our cable modem=ratty.
We've had probably 8 days this month where the modem is totally down. Maybe they've been working on it. Maybe it's this unusually rainy and cold May. Maybe they need to give me some of my damn money back!

Piped in from the prep room
My office is in the building that is adjacent to 5 Star and their prep room shares the wall right next to my desk. They always have something good on the radio. One of the prep cooks has an affinity for late 70's/ early 80's rock and roll. I don't know his face, but I love him. I hear a lot of new indie rock too. Right now someone is blasting Abbey Road. I love this record. It always reminds me of college. And Barber Street. And Phoebe. And driving to the airport with a thermos full of gin and tonic, B driving, us singing at the top of our lungs. Turn it up, oh wonderful prep cook. Turn it up loud.

Joey Pants
I watched part of Dinner for Five last night on IFC. Dave Eggers was on as well as Joe Pantoliano. When asked about coping with death, Eggers mentioned that his mother had died of cancer. Pantoliano, not wanting to appear unable to relate, mentioned that he had lost someone to cancer as well. Janine Garafolo interjected and mentioned that Egger had lost both his parents within 6 weeks of each other. "No shit" was Joey Pants' retort. Good one, Joe. But wait, it gets better. He had no idea who Dave Eggers was, knew nothing of MsSweeney's or his book. What the fuck was he doing in the Green Room? Did it even occur to him that there was someone sitting to his left at that table. You'd think that if someone had been invited to be on the show, there was something remotely interesting about them and you'd be inclined to ask before you made an ass of yourself on TV.

For those of you who still haven't read "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius", read it. Read it now.

"Heavy metal music and popular American children's songs are being used by US interrogators to break the will of their captives in Iraq.
Uncooperative prisoners are being exposed for prolonged periods to tracks by rock group Metallica and music from children's TV programmes Sesame Street and Barney in the hope of making them talk...

...However, human rights organisation, Amnesty International, said such tactics may constitute torture - and coalition forces could be in breach of the Geneva Convention. " --from BBC.

What's that, Transmatique? The Geneva Convention? What does it mean?

Tatu you
gorjus, it looks like your little girlfriends are as pseudo-cool as they are pseudo-lesbian. Apparently they "don't give a shit."

bum knees and more summer reading
I was walking up the stairs at work and realized that i was clutching the rail and limping with BOTH legs. I have bad knees.

Finished The Summer of My German Soldier yesterday. What a downer. I had forgotten most of it, seeing as how it's probably been close to 20 years since I read it the first time.

My dog has an ear infection that smells like cheese.

I thought that maybe if I let the water run in the sink for a while that the water I poured into my glass would taste better. I was wrong.

Big Gray said he was going to ride with me to work today but he didn't even wake up until I was leaving.

I'm about to drink a Diet Dr. Pepper and listen to my 19 year old student assistant tell me about her night last night. Possibilities are endless.


Monday, May 19, 2003

Big Gray and I get weekly updates from Lhasapoo.org so that we may keep abreast on just how much cuter our dog is than all the other lhasa apso/poodle mixes (and all other dogs for that matter). Well, imagine my horror and delight to open the page to a heart felt greeting that read "Attention POO LOVERS".

Well, I nevah!

Every Sunday morning my dad would put the top down on the car and we'd drive out to and up along the coast for a couple of hours. My brother would seldom go since the TV was infinately more interesting to him than fresh air ever was. My mom would seldom go because she needed something to hold against us when we got back from our outing while she was at home showing the maids how to clean things properly and cultivating her resentment.

My dad and I had suffered through the inevitable rift that forms between father and daughter round about the time that the daughter develops breasts and the need for things marked "feminie hygene" on the grocery aisle. We had stopped communicating almost completely. But every Sunday we'd get in that car and drive. Maybe it was the tradition. Maybe it was wind and the surf that made it near impossible to talk, our excuse. But we managed to get through those years with minor scars thanks to those mornings driving up the 5 with the wind in our hair and the Beach Boys on the radio.

This year my dad celebrates his 60th birthday. He has long since moved away from the west coast, but not as long as it's been for me. I wish we were still living by the water. I wish my brother hadn't demolished that convertible. I wish that someday my dad will be back near the ocean like he wants and he'll take me driving up the coast, a different coast than that of my youth. Driving in silence, but not because we have to.


YABC was the best idea ever. I have finished my first 2 books, Angus..., and Holes and I'm halfway through with The Summer of My German Soldier by Bette Greene. It's also my first repeat, having read it when I was little. But it won't be my last. Up next, the Outsiders. Start reading ladies. I'm way ahead of the pack.

Just finished a great lunch with RRC, Amy, Alison (in town for only a small visit) and Casey "Sweat-Thru-His-Suit-at-My-Wedding" Johnston but I feel like I need to lie down for half an hour. We are also experiencing the weirdest May I have seen in my 8 years in this town: cold, rainy, wintery. Will we have a mild summer? Probably not. We'll all just die from heat stroke tomorrow when it is 99 degrees with 99% humidity.

Mr. Horton, now that you are back on this side of the world, are you reading this?


An eventful, yet uneventful weekend.
1. Willie Nelson
2. Brandon Butler
3. Alison Klapthor (picture soon)
4. V+
5. sleeping late
6. no painting
7. heavy drinking but never drunk

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