Tuesday, September 30, 2003

Art House Envy

I went to the movies over the weekend. At Night when movie theatres charge you more for a single ticket then the kid who sells you the ticket makes an hour, and to add an extra dollar to the evening, I went to an Art House. These are theaters that try to make up for the fact that only eleven people world wide are actually going to see this movie, by charging twice what it would cost in a regular theatre ,and by kindly making available very expensive cookies and flavored teas, ‘cause they are so Arty. The floor is still sticky and the bathrooms are unspeakable. Unspeakably arty.

The movie theatre I spent most of my Movie Theater career at had a theater or “house” set aside for “art films”, usually they were films made in Briton that were too terrible to air on the BBC channels and so were sold to the US market as Art Films. Object of Beauty was sold as an Art Film. John Malkovich and Andi McDowell and a statuette of indeterminate origin. I believe that the statuette was nominated for its role.

When I was working Movie Theater the various area chains had a deal worked out that let employees from one chain go to another chain to watch movies for free. Not the good movies, and only after so long that if you really wanted to see the movie ( or there was some threat that it may end up at your theatre, there is nothing worse then having to watch a movie at your own theater) you would have all ready paid to see it anyway, but, you could go free if you were willing to wait and weren’t really picky.

I hated the Art House employees. They were so snotty about their theatre. They showed Cinema, they had foreign language films, Classics; They didn’t wear bow ties or sell milk duds or coke, or work for an evil corporate chain they wore black tee shirts and sold British candies and designer popcorn and fancy coffees and belonged to a co-op . Bastards.

When they wanted to see 101 Dalmatians for free, they certainly got over their evil corporate chain issues and into line to buy milk duds and coke fast enough. Hypocritical bow tie bigots.

And I don’t even want to go into the distaste that employees of dollar shows were held in - Eww, Old - er movies! Bad prints! Ewww. Video store clerks were even lower on the food chain because their movies were little the actors shrunken, the stories withered. Sloppy seconds. They were Movie Pimps.

But I loved the art houses. They were pretty and yellowed. They had a cafĂ© and sold beer. They had Casablanca on the big screen. They had practical curtains across the screens!. So much cooler then my mall bound theater. Their patrons were also better then our patrons. They didn’t come dragging sticky children or endlessly ask for change for the video games. They had smart people who had intelligent discussions about the characters motivations and the cinematography and comparing and contrasting this film with the directors earlier works in Rumania. They did not hang around the video games afterwards and talk about whether or not they saw that girls tit in when they were in the hot tub with the golden retriever.

They didn’t have to sell Disney™ toys for movies they didn’t even have, or pretend they thought that that Tom Hanks movie with that dog was anything more then a waste of good film stock. I bet they never got yelled at by rednecks who didn’t understand the concept of Tax or chased twelve year olds out of Truth or Dare.

They probably had long, interesting conversations with film students and Cinema Buffs, they probably had time to watch their own movies, and they probably never smelled like popcorn drink syrup I bet they never slipped on spilled popcorn topping during a rush, because they never got huge crowds or big movies. How dare they hate their jobs as much as we did. No Bow Tie wearing bastards probably got paid more too.

Go See Lost In Translation!!!!

Monday, September 29, 2003

Housing Authority

I’m fully expecting the guys from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy to come bounding in and to tell me to stand aside and bring out the guy who really lives here, as only the home of a straight man could be this big of a pig sty. They wouldn’t believe that it belongs to a straight woman even as I point out the florals and cat figurines. I need to clean this place up.

It doesn’t help that both Cat and Dogger think that tearing up paper is a good way to pass the time. I have tried to remind both of them that they both have many expensive, especially designed cat and dog toys to choose from – that they do not need to shred my TV guide every week.

This falls on deaf ears. Dog would be happy to eat all of kitties toys and kitty would be pleased if all he had to do through time was to tear bits off my magazines and do sick things to his lovey. Dogger would also like to do sick things to the kitties lovey, and this is a constant battle over a singularly nasty stuffed cat.

I did mow the lawn and many loads of laundry and put away several weeks worth of clothes that I should have been hanging up or at least hung up weeks ago. I even went as far as to change the sheets on the guest bed. Go Me.

All that laundry didn’t get the floors swept or the carpets vacuumed or the leaves racked in the backyard or the kitchen curtains laundered and ironed. It really sucks when the “Honey Do” list is all you.

What to do first? The lawns need mowing and people can actually see that, so mow first? Or think inside the house and do the housekeeping stuff first. But, you can vacuum the rugs when ever and the lawn can’t be mowed in the dark. It could but not by me. Then there are the floors, hardwoods are really nice but they get really dusty. Carpet gets dusty too, but it sinks into the carpety parts and you don’t really see it the same way.

Or how about the kitchen. Or how about not.

The bathroom needs some attention, or I could just bath the Dogger. That has a lot of attendant water drippage and it kind of cleans the bathroom… it doesn’t clean the toilet but it keeps the floor looking not entirely filthy. Maybe I could use the kitchen curtains to scrub the Dogger? Two birds one stone.

Mr. Kitty is the author of the dirty curtains. He likes to look out those windows and he leaves his furry calling cards all over them. Maybe I should have just bought gray instead of tasteful off white. I don’t think this was an eventuality that Martha Stewart thought of when her minions were designing her kitchen line.

Martha should get to work on designing a cat with fur that does not shed.

I still also need to get the entry ways taken care of. I’ve almost decided that the entry that I and the Dogger use the most, may need to get painted whatever Sherman Williams has that is the closest to Dirt color. It won’t be look very pretty, but it won’t look very dirty either.

The good thing is, my glasses prescription is ageing and that helps to mute my horror at the state of my housekeeping. I really do not see the dust bunnies. They have to grow into dust buffalo before they begin to register with me. I think they would make great toys for kitty, but he insists on not using things I want him to as toys. He won’t play with the stuff I buy and he ignores the stuff that is just laying around. Bastard.

I took time away from my not doing my housekeeping this weekend to see a movie. Go See Lost in Translation. You may have heard that it is a good movie, it is a good movie. I kind of think it is a great movie. I’m not sure that some one not named Coppola could have gotten this movie greenlighted or been able to attract the caliber of talent both in front of and behind the camera that she was able to, but it is still a terrific movie. Go see it. Tell me what you thought of it.

Sunday, September 28, 2003


Go see Lost In Translation, it is as good as the reviews say it is. It has made it to my backwater burg, it certainly has made it to your thriving metropolis. Go! See! it! Right! now! what? you're still here? Go! Go! Right Now!

Saturday, September 27, 2003


Friday, September 26, 2003

Babbling Your Pets

I was thinking how I really haven’t communicated with my pets very well. I’ve not put the time into our relationships. It would be easier if we understood each other better. I know that “No! No! put that down now!” means, “No, No! put that down now”, but do they. Kitty ignores everything I say out of hand, which leads me to believe that he may understand what I’m saying.

Dogger makes some effort to listen to me. She understands body language pretty well. If I make myself look bigger, she will usually respond by trying to look smaller. Which is good, she doesn’t stop what she’s doing. But she seems to recognize I’m not happy with what she’s doing. She doesn’t care. But she is sad that I seem unhappy.

I don’t want her to feel my pain. I want her to put my shoe down.

With Kitty I could burst into tears and his only reaction would be to lick his butt . Cats do not feel our pain. Kitty does know when I don’t feel well and I can forgive him a lot the times he has shredded my magazines for the times he has curled up in my lap.

Dogger tries to curl up in my lap, but it’s really not the same.

In the middle of the night I imagine if Dogger jumped up on my bed I would probably would either, worst case, have a stroke or best case, get squished. Kitty is a lot more graceful and less likely to kill me while jumping on the bed. Dogger would never try to use me as foot path even if she really wanted to go outside or wanted to eat right now. Kitty always needs what ever he needs right now. Dogger starts with whimpers that end in opera. I dread the day they decided to sing together.

I started to think that if I could understand them better, maybe they could understand me better. I needed a translator.

There are translator sites for every language you can think up a type face for. Some for languages that don’t even have a type face. There are site that will translate random clicks and whistles. Nothing for barks and meows.

I even found one to translate this site! It is my newest toy. Please use it. I think it’s fun .

Anyway. I had to go to every corner of the Internet, and there are some dark and nasty corners - I finally found one.

It requires a bunch of audio stuff that I had to down load and now I’m going to get sued by the Recording Industry, but I need to be able to talk with the animals.

Okay. So. I had Dog and Cat record a few phrases into the mike- both animals thought it was a neat new toy and that slowed the whole thing down a bit, and I ended up having to record them with out their express knowledge. Sue Me.

It turns out that meow, meow, meeeeeeeep means “There are not enough kibble chunks in my bowl” or if there is a slightly longer “ew” sound it means “I really want to go outside”. Meowmeowmeow“ means “my toy is under the oven and I want you to get it so I can put it back again” it depends on the number of syllables in the initial “meow” and whether or not it is preceded by a lift of the chin or a head butt. The language really doesn’t have a lot of words that translate back to human languages directly. Feline is all about body language, theirs. Human body language apparently does not register but our moods do. Odd.

Dog language is a lot more about making statement. Woof (pause) Wof means “I will tear off your head”, while Barkety, Bark, Bark, Bark means “ I know you are somewhere near my house. I want you to step away now. You aren’t going to out run me. I work out” . it is not all warnings, Woofy, Woofy, Mefwoof is “Hi! Hi!Hi!, lets go go,ballll!ball!”

I also learned I was totally mistranslating Wof, squeal, Arrghrr I was going with “Put Me Out Side Right Now”, what it really means is “ I want to dig up the azalea bush in the backyard. I started this morning and I need to finish it”.

If I could just teach them the lyrics to some Animals songs, we could go on tour.

Thursday, September 25, 2003

Were there any animals at the Tower of Babylon?

Hooray! I , thanks to you, have reached 1000 hits. I’m amazed that any of you even found me in the first place. Thank You for coming here everyday and keeping me motivated.

Random Randomness

I was listening to Kitty whining about not having fresh enough food in his bowl. Kitty has a large vocabulary. He has his feed me mewing, his change my box meows, the melodic yowls of - I don’t know, I haven’t figured out what the yowling means. He has all these different sounds he makes. Purring, meowing, muttering, little tiny meows, operatic mewling, growling, hissing, and whining. He makes a lot of noise and he really communicates with me what he wants. Sometimes sitting on my chest at three in the morning… he and I have talked. I meow at him, he meows back. We can sit and meow at each other for minutes at a time. I always wonder what we’re talking about. I’m afraid I’ve made him my power of attorney .

Dogger one the other hand, doesn’t have as many ways of communicating. She barks or she growls or she whimpers. She does employ stealing my socks and running away as a form of communication more then Kitty does, but kitty wouldn’t put my sock in his mouth, he would hide on them.

Miss Dog does have a specific whimper for “Take Me Outside Now” and I appreciate that. She growls at things she hears outside, sometimes and she barks in the back yard but I don’t know at what. There isn’t an ally back there so I assume she barks at the kids who live behind there, or their dog. The kids are out there all the time and I don’t think the dog ever leaves their porch, so maybe she barks at squirrels .

Here is a question. Why does my cat always smell better then my dog? Dogger gets bathed frequently and kitty grooms himself. Shouldn’t kitty smell like cat breath?

Dogger sleeps, kitty sleeps. Why does only Dogger seem to dream? do cats not talk in their sleep?

Why does the dog react to the doorbell on TV when it isn’t the same as mine? To dogs do they all sound the same? If so, why doesn’t hearing a dog bark on TV cause a reaction. The cat on the other hand really notices animals on TV.

How bored do you have to be to hold weddings for your pets?

What do birds do for fun? Do they have fun? You don’t see them having bird picnics or bird softball games.

Rats play. They do little rat dances, hoe downs and rat concerts. Maybe birds are the nerds of the animal world.

Why is Dogger licking her foot? It isn’t red, swollen or injured. She isn’t limping or favoring it. Could she be just doing it to make me hover over her? Do they think like that?

I had a dream last night so annoying I work up to get away from it. If I had been watching it on TV I would have turned the channels. I woke up irritated at 4:30 this morning. Yesterday morning was no better. The first thing I did yesterday morning was to stalk and kill one of those enormous hunting cockroaches, on my bed!! Good Morning Diana!

And Good Morning to Ya’ll! Or Evening! Or Afternoon!

Wednesday, September 24, 2003

Soap Opera-itis

Whither the The West Wing . That hot, smart chick at the library is now on the mommy track She’s that same chick you knew before but now you know her. You know she does the crossword in pencil and that she can’t balance her checkbook. The mystery is gone. She isn’t as smart as you thought she was.

God, but she was hot wasn’t she? Back in the day, the first season. All shiny and shimmering, You never met anyone like her. All her little quirks were interesting and different, not at all like the other girls. Those tired out old police dramas and lawyer shows.

When she won her very first Emmy™, it was like a giant coming out party. Everyone had said she was the prettiest girl at the dance, but when she was named Queen of the Ball, it validated it. She really was as good as you thought she was. And time passed and more Emmys™ lined up on the mantel and she was so hot. She still found a way to reinvent the wheel every week and it was a golden wheel.

She was gaining a little weight and she was starting to squint at her crosswords puzzles, but she was still all that. The cast had joined hands and then had a group hug and promised they would never, ever leave the Good Ship Quality. The creature and writer churned out fantastic episodes like he never slept or had a real life or thought about anything else.

But. Sometimes the wheel was a little flat, not a lot flat, not enough to need to change it right away. It just needed a little fresh blood to keep the wheel firm and running strait. It happens to everyone. New People mean new stories. Everyone wanted to be on the show. She was sexy and smart. Nothing to worry about.

The fans loved the show. Deeply and passionately. They listened to every word she said. She charmed them and taught . She looked so good, every hair in place and her make up was always flawless. She was still young and hot despite the seasons. She still had mystery about her.

She had great ideas and if the real world could just be a little bit more like Her, it would be a better place.

But what was that? Didn’t she say something like that a couple of seasons ago? And who are all these new people? When did she developed all these family members and significant others. There is no one more significant then She is, why do we need these people. What have they got to do with the running of the country? Twins? We need baby twins? What’s next? Presidential children coming out of the woodwork? Members of the Other Party with actual lines? this is not right. She changed. She is wearing concealed and her hair is lighter! What is This? She has turned into a Soccer Mom! That Bitch.

Its not that these old favorites are bad, really. They are the same shows they have always been, the problem being they are the same shows they have always been. We know them. We need a second honeymoon and couples counseling.

West Wing came out of the ether as the most original thing on TV. In a sea of Lawyer Shows and police procedurals The West Wing was a Political Procedural. The critics and the views alike all but wet themselves for the sheer joy of an original concept.

It took us to this exotic situation, and took the viewers a place they never could have gone on their own, it took them to the President – a kinder, gentler, nicer President, A Good President. A better country and a nicer world. No one was busting boring bad guys or shrieking for a continuance! We were bringing Congress to heel!

Why did the TV Iliterati fall out of love with it?

The first season was about how this situation affected the characters. For the most part they had no personal life. You could image that at the end of the day they folded themselves up and shutting themselves into their desks and powered down. It was all about the plot.

We got to know these people. We decided we liked it better before. Before what? Before the characters had outside lives? When was that? Before the first commercial break? Before the soap opera elements came in? everything evolves into a soap opera if the pilot gets picked up and the show runs for more then six episodes.

So. The characters evolve. The grow. The story telling moves beyond the story of guest star of the week and becomes about the stories of the characters. How they affect the situation makes them feel instead of the situation serving the continuance of the plot. Less episodic more arc orientated, more about these people and how they live from day to day, who they live with and how they live that life with those people while solving the crimes and chasing the bad guys and fixing that broken body or getting that bill passed .

More Soap Opera. Less Opera.

Tuesday, September 23, 2003

The Bummies™

That was about as many laughs as the Oscars™ were the year Schindlers List won. Gawd.

I was expecting a load of California Recall jokes and I was not disappointed. I was not laughing, but I got what I asked for. It wasn’t that I counted a lot or them, six actually, counting a prolonged and painful “skit” dedicated to it.

It is such an easy target and the opportunities to snark on it plentiful. If Dennis “Sell Out” Miller had not had his newly short hair wedged up Rupert Murdochs ass, he could have been terrific. John Stewart did all right and I actually laughed out loud a couple of times but considering the amount of screen time he had, I could have been hyperventilating . While speaking of Stewart, he can never razz anyone for being less then inclusive, the Supreme Court has fewer white men working on it then his does. I laughed at the picture of Bernie Mac standing next to that Caucasian Kick Line and laughed. I laughed at Stewart when he bitched at the director for letting us all see it. No, he can’t win an Emmy™ for directing the Emmys™, but he can win a Snarky™ for making Stewart look like an ass.

On to what we really sit through this three hour Toast To Trash for, the clothing.

I saw very few men in tuxedos. They all had suits on. How do they get away with the relative comfort of a suit when they could be trapped in a tux? I blame Dylan McDermott for that. He showed up in a tone on tone suit and looked dead sexy. The next year they all did and most of them just looked like Goombas. Now they wear whatever they wore to their kids last ballet recital.

The women have to spend the time in layers of fabric in varying levels of torment. Tight girdles ( don’t even try to tell me some of those women aren’t synched into those gowns) tighter stockings, torture bras, slips, petty coats ( itchy, uncomfortable) layers of shellac on their face and hair, heavy earrings ( we will talk about those earrings) terrible, beeeyootiful shoes and some of the men weren’t even wearing ties. Bastards.

I thought most of the women really looked nice this year. I didn’t have to look at any of David E. Kellys lollypop kids, so I was happy. I thought Debra Messing looked nice but that Tyn Daly was wearing my slip cover and that the usually stunning Alfe Woodard showed up in a bathrobe and nightgown combo my grandmother donated to a thrift store two years ago.

Sara Jessica Parker looked like she got lost on the way to a road show production of Grease - and not a well funded road show, a back road show. She should never wear anything that appears to weigh more then she does.

I thought there was something familiar about Jane Kazametskys earrings, I have some just like them, but I use them as Christmas ornaments .

The whole chandelier earring thing is tired. Practically every woman shown was wearing them and they all looked bad, it totally ruined the outfits. I remember that style, it was 1986. It didn’t look good on me then and it doesn’t look good on them now.

Did Christina Applegate piss off the make up people? She looked like she ran into a buffing machine. . It was not a good look. Speaking of little blondes, when did that chick from Clueless start to e n u c i a t e every single syllable? It was distracting and made her seem affected. Or new to reading.

Did anyone else know that George Lopez is Hispanic? I had no idea until he told us. Over. And. Over. And over. I would have never thought it. I thought he was kin to Jim Belushi . Speaking of Belushi, what has happened to Courtney Thorne – Smith? She looked awful. Is that what being stuck on a nowhere sitcom on a nowhere network does to a pretty woman? She needs to escape to the Spelling mansion and go into beauty rehab.

Martin Short was too talented for the room. He rocked more in the little bit of time he was up there then the rest of them did all night. I am so looking at you, Wanda Sykes. Thanks to you Dogger got to enjoy multiple trips outside. Sykes sucks. And to suck to Cosby? so wrong, so many ways. True he looked like he had a stick up his ass the size of his Life Time achievement trophy, but still? to harsh on Cosby. Shame on you.

I called this the Bummies™ because we keep getting smacked around the head with dead people all night. I am sad for the dead people, really. But, awards are for the living. Dead people do not need the validation. Bob Hope, Mr. Rogers, John Ritter, Lyn Jacobson, Tony Shaloubs nephew… all damn night. If they didn’t say nice things to these people when they were alive, why wait till they’re dead? It’s hypocritical . If you weren’t going to remember then in your speech while they were alive, why are you doing it now?

It just went on an on. I was really glad to see Tony Shaloub bring it home and William H. Macy walk back and forth . I am heartened to see actual actors being rewarded for their work.

Anyway. Fun was had, fun was made of and hopefully next year more shows I care about will win.

Monday, September 22, 2003

The Days After

While the coast and Virginia and Maryland are ripping their carpets out and killing snakes in whats left of their living rooms, digging their stuff out of the mud and trying to get used to new landmarks and wondering where the old ones went off to, I filled six trash bags and two containers of carefully snapped to size, dead wood. Done. I am one of two houses on the block with anything out to be picked up.

Next time we won't be so lucky. Bet On It. I am going to get myself a big cooler, some blue ice and more candles. I can run to Broskys and Alphagals. if I really need to they live on a power grid that also has a Hospital and their power never fails for long. But I don't like to leave my house to the elements, if a tree is going to fall on my house, I want to be there for it.

At least those thousands of people have the warm to be in the dark with. Last winter the power failed and the only thing to keep us warm was our ire . We got to go outside, pull some limbs off the porch get cold, go back inside, stay cold, hate on the power company work up a lather, rinse in cold water, repeat. Being with out power for a long time makes you tired. I want to note that not once have we seen a story about the hardness of having no power, many interviews with people whining Oh, thats right this didn't happen to New York! The people with out now, are not as interesting. They must be use to it doesn't bother them in the same way. Lots of picture of people digging out, cleaning up, not whining. How refreshing. They also do not have water. They aren't casually sitting on their stoops, bitching, they are casually sitting on was once their piano, thanking God for not being dead, not whining

What else?

The Emmys are on tonight. The new season starts this week. I'm going to teach Dogger to fetch the remote and cook dinner for me. I tried to teach Kitty to do those but he wouldn't do it.

Tomorrow we have CSI Miami. Shut up. I like this show. I forgave David Caruso for his past misdeeds. The people who hate this show, hate it because its not the Mother Ship. Move On. I don't even watch the Other Show. I don't watch it because I can't stand William "Walking Ego" Peterson. I don't know anything about him, I'm not familiar with his work. He may rescue kittens from trees and acts as a wet nurse for orphaned puppies he said nasty things about CSIM before the show even started and I decided that he was an asshat and I wasn't going to watch his show. Ever.

It looks like Fear Factor, Third Watch, Yes Dear, Everybody loves Raymond and Still Standing are also making a return. I know NBC is premiering this week, but I don't watch the other nets as often and I don't keep track of them. I do want to know when NYPD Blue comes back because I'm going to have to start taping Queer Eye.

Lets see, Wednesday? Law and Order and Angel eventually,busy! Thursday, wow, busy, busy. I Must See NBC Must See TV. It is very sad, I know. Don't bother. Friday. Nothing. Saturday, Nothing. Sunday, Law and Order CI.

The Emmys are about to start. Who thinks West Wing and CSI Las Vegas are going to clean up? I don't watch either one, so they'll do well.

What do they mean they cut into the Emmy pre-show for a Football game? The hell? There are gowns!!! To see! We missed the Gowns!

And away we go. Tomorrow I'll let you know what I thought.

Sunday, September 21, 2003


Saturday, September 20, 2003


Friday, September 19, 2003

Safe as Houses

Home again. With Power. The folks down at the coast got nailed, but they expected that- They live at the coast, getting nailed by hurricanes comes with the beach house. My basement didn't even flood. So the Isabel 03 - the Live and Learn Tour has left the building and left the building.

Thursday, September 18, 2003


So far so good. I left work at about 2pm because I didn't want to be alone in the building - weather wusses by the way, the lot of them Ewww! Its raining! I Must Go Home Early!!, flutter, flutter, what shall we do?. On the way home I watched a scaffolding blow apart, that was impressive.

The weather was passable enough that Dogger and I were able to take a short version our walk - we could have done the whole thing but I got spooked by cracking tree limbs and chickened out.

Since then, I went to my brothers as I lost power at about 3 and I ran out of patients with the whole thing. I looked ahead to more games of chase and hiss with the animals and thought better of it . On the way to the lit side of town I saw a torn banner, a shredded awning and a couple of downed tree limbs. Lots of leaves, lots of police and fire sirens. I counted 12 different police and fire combos in the few hours since I got home.

This was not as bad of a storm as I encounter in Dallas, Dallas would not have 150,000 people with out power after a wind storm though.

Hatches battened, decks cleared, everything tied down, stowed away or stashed.

The wind has picked up, but I’m not sure I would have noticed it if I hadn’t been looking for signs of the storm. Which has not changed it course and is headed straight for us. Well, straight for the coast. Inland, it will be here about afternoonish. The TV showed big waves crashing in and folks out playing in them. Then they talked about curfews and the all ready declared state of , forced evacuation, emergency and the location of shelters…

I went at lunch and got myself some cupboard food so I won’t starve when the power goes. It’s a given, the power failing at some point for an extended time. I won’t starve but I might go into sugar shock.

The Storm is the topic of conversation. Are you ready? Are you going to come in to work? How long are you going to stay? Will they send us home ( answer, an emphatic No). In the store, in the post office, at the McDonalds. No chaos though, very orderly. No limits at the store, no stripped shelves. No panic. “D” batteries are had to find though.

I had to call our federal over seers to let them know that the request they sent in this afternoon may not be able to get to them as quickly as they wanted. She asked me where I was, so I told her “Right in the path of Isabel”. “Oh” she said “let me know”. I’m thinking “watch the news”.

We’re in no real danger here. Too far in land and there is no water near me. The rain is going to be the problem, my basement is going to flood, a lot. Not as much as it would though, thanks to Brosky and Alphagals’ shop vac. The drain at the foot of the stairs is actually not just a dirt hole, there is a pipe! Huzzah! Those stairs are now all clear and ready for the deluge.

I need to remember the bring in Doggers toys and bowl, to grab the bug sprays from the kitchen window ledge and to bring the recycling in to the entry way. And to take a shower, and empty the dishwasher.

The wind is projected to be between 35-40 miles an hour, in gusts. We had 35 miles an hour gusts in Dallas and it wasn’t any kind of a deal, big or other wise. It wasn’t raining then though, and I just had a thought, what about my Dish? It’s on the roof, I hope it is on there good and tight. It’s kind of hidden, so maybe it will be okay. I hope.

I saw Spot when I was bringing Dog in from our walk. He looked all right. I think he may live with or around the house of the retired vet who lives across the way. So, good. I’d still take him, and now I know he’ll be safe.

I’m going to do a diary of the storm and now I have a camera, also Brosky and Alphagals, so I’ll have something to do, or not do if a tree falls on my house. I did call my home owners insurance and got my policy number – because I couldn’t find it in my files to save my life. I found a letter from a doctor in Dallas dated 1995, letting me know she was moving to San Antonio, I found a bunch of health insurance explanations from my former employer, renters insurance for my first apartment, a bunch of stuff from an X-Files Fan Convention ( one, I went to one!) but no home owners insurance. With a hurricane on the way. Greeeeaaaaaaat.

Problem solved, called my mortgage company, they gave the phone number, I called them this morning, they faxed me in the info, I felt much better and now I’m going to go finish up my pre-storm and wait for the rain to start.

Talk to you soon.

Edit to add

6:00 AM - light rain, some wind, some light gustyness.

Wednesday, September 17, 2003

The Hurricane Is Coming! The Hurricane is Coming!!!

Isabel . What to do what to do first? make lists? or get down to action? Put some thought into it or run around like some sort of crazy person? I don’t know. How far away are they saying it is? and where is it supposed to make landfall now?

Someone at work said that we were to be west of it, we’ll be away from the wind. How the hell does she know? What Does That Mean? West of it? West of what? Hell? La, la, la. I can’t hear you. I’m in my happy place

The news is full of very dark prophecies. Mean words. Destruction, wind speeds, flash flooding, High Seas, Lose of property, Floyd, Fran, Camille, Ya’ll all gonna die!

I went to the flea market on Saturday to see what there was for me to not spend my money on. Right. There were many things for me to spend my money on. I was going through a tool tent to see if there was anything that I recognized and that I might need, (Dear Santa, please bring me a chain saw, a weed whacker and a shop vac. Love, Diana) I passed by a displays of gas powered chain saws, heavy duty tape, nail guns, spray paint and propane stoves with a hand printed sign that read Isabelle Is Coming.

Today, over lunch, I went with one of my friends to get her chain saw sharpened. La la la. The hardware store had handy displays set up to make me feel like I am going to die unless I give them a lot of money. Lanterns, cases of bottled water, batteries, generators, gas cans, little grills, big sheets of plywood, rope, heavy duty plastic, more batteries, more flashlights. La, la, LA.

So. I come home and immediately cleared the decks. All the patio furniture, racks, shovels, assorted crap, chairs, chair pads, wreath from the door, plant containers but not all the planters as some of my plants are still alive. I want them to keep going to the bitter end when I will probably through them bodily into the trash if the wind hasn’t all ready spirited them away and smashed them. La, LA, LA.

To chill myself out I took Dogger for a walk. I saw lots of deck furniture, planters, yard art, junk cars and other assorted future shrapnel just sitting there. No one was taking it inside, no one was out there battening down the hatches or reinforcing anything. Nothing. Death Comes on the wind, you asshats!

All I know about hurricanes I learned from a Scholastic Book Club book on Hurricane Camille. A children’s book about disaster, how nice. I learned to put things up. These people can write their owns books about hurricanes and they are doing nothing. Hunch or Hubris?

As I walked down my street, with all my hurricane experienced neighbors. Old hands at this storm business. Nothing. Deck furniture, planters, yard art. Just sitting there. Ready to launch. Do these people not watch TV? Do they not go to the store? Has no one mentioned anything to them?! “ Hey Bob, how’s it going? Your yard looks great! Love those bedding plants! By the By, How are you for propane? You good for bottled water?”

I come from tornados. You get between none and a tiny little bit of warning before they step on your house and launch you and everything you own into the stratosphere.

In these parts we get days of warning. They know when it’s going to hit, roughly. Thursday afternoon, The Outerbanks. That is several hours from here, but the storm is going to move inland. It will be here. Soon. La, la, la.

And they haven’t moved their stuff in yet. I’m out there making life and death decisions for my plants and everyone else is, is Not. Are they trying to kill me? Does no one else place value on my windows? They are all retired. I guess in theory they could be whipping around doing everything while I’m at work. But I want them to whip around while I can see what they’re doing . I need to know hurricane preparedness whipping around . I need to know how freaked out I need to be. Very freaked out? Should I be pissing myself? Obliviously not. No on else is. A little freaked out? should I be checking my blood pressure and pacing around? Just freaked out? Drink a beer and wait for Armageddon? LA Freaking LA

I’m trying to think of things I need to do ahead of time. We may, HA! We will lose power. So. The refrigerator needs my attention. I had family here while back and I had left overs. Did I mention it was a while back? My left overs have started their own families and even they are starting little furry choirs and practicing “Nearer My Lard To Thee”.

The freezer. To throw away now or wait till later? If I don’t recognize it now? Should I get rid of it before it thaws out and reminds me? What if nothing happens and I’ve thrown out and cleaned up for no reason? I sacrificed, and ate a frozen pizza I was saving for a rainy day.

Isabel Is Coming La.

Tuesday, September 16, 2003

How To Teach Your Dog To Play Sports

Dogs are natural sportsmen. Most dogs, most realdogs, are all about chasing balls. And what are sports but the chasing of balls? Dogger could so this. She loves her toy balls. I think I have potential half time act, screw Britney, these should be our gigs.

So. I said to myself. Dogger could play sports! I could play sports with Dogger! We could be big! Maybe the whole non-grant producing wetlands thing isn’t as big a blow as I thought it was (I am now thinking of making the space a living museum to the Dust Bowl and its affects on the environment. I’m going to say my dead snake died of thirst, what? They didn’t have the Dust Bowl here, what would they know from Dust Bowl. I’m in, trust me.) I was sure that Dogger and I could so this. We work well together, she eats my stuff, I chase her around the living room, she chews up and abandons my stuff, I pretend she gave it back because I asked. It’s a partnership

How To Teach Your Dog Soccer

1. Buy a soccer ball.
2. Buy another soccer ball when your dog deflates the first ball.
3. Clean the back yard of dog bombs.
4. Clean the back yard of dog bombs again
5. Explain the rules of soccer.
6. Look up the rules of soccer.
7. Decide that Doccoer will have it’s own rules.
8. Kick ball into neighbors yard. Donate ball to neighbors dog.
9. Kick ball onto roof. Buy new ball.
10.Get ball away from dog.
11.Explain to dog about passing ball to teammates
12. Explain to dog about fouling the field and the concept of “carding”.
13. Discover that A/C unit is not a suitable goalie.
14. Call A/C repairman.

How To Teach Your Dog To Play Basketball

1. Watch Air Bud with Dog.
2. Buy Basketball.
3. Introduce dog to ball.
4. Peel Dog from leg
5. Explain that the large orange ball is a friend.
6. Pull dog from under shrub.
7. Let Dog sniff ball.
8. Retrieve dog from roof of shed.
7a. Rewatch Air Bud with out Dog. Look for signs of animatronics. Curse.
9. Teach dog to dribble.
10.Use Mercurochrome on wounds.
10a. Make a note to discuss the principles of Good Sportsmanship with dog
11.Teach dog fundamentals of game.
12.Admit to dog you don’t know the fundamentals of the game.
13. kick basketball across yard. Think that you could have been a contender.
14. Walk Dog to park to watch other people play basketball, hope for inspiration, hope dog has brought pen and paper to take notes.
15. Cooperate when asked to remove dog from gymnansium.
15a. Explain to dog about personal fouls.
15b. Retreat to tennis courts, get inspired. Tennis!! Doennis!! Cute clothes! Matching headbands and collars! Sweatbands for Dogs! Ralf Lauren designer tennis skorts for canine players!
16. Dog peels tennis ball. Throws up.

Dog decides that her sport is track, prefers eating my shoes and doing 15 foot wind sprints with the cat.

Monday, September 15, 2003

Here Kitty, Kitty

I was going to get this other cat. Emphasis on going. I did not. It turned out to be a custody battle thing. I was a pawn. The cat did have problems. It had claw problems and leaving cat bombs problem and being elderly problems… but it was going to be consigned to the pound and I didn’t think a cat with all those strikes against it would be a cat that stayed at the pound. It would be a cat that was there for a very short time and not in the “found a home” way but in the “went home” way.

I felt bad for it. I saw its picture and fell in love with it. Big kitty, big fat, incontinent kitty. Pretty eyes though. I thought I could work with the problems but as it turned out the custodial cat father really didn’t want to let the cat go, he wanted to tease the non custodial cat mother. And in turn, me. Asshat.

I really can’t have another cat. Mr. Kitty is still getting over the advent of Dogger and I’m afraid that Kitty would freak out if faced with yet another new room mate.

So I said that there would be “No New Kitties Unless One Showed Up On My Front Porch”.


Time marches on. Prospective new kitty stays with its family. My animals take turns hissing and barking at each other and eating my hair squishys and shredding my magazines, and we go on.

Then there was a kitty on my front porch. A little kitty. A tiny Tex. His doppelganger but with a black spot on his white chest. So tiny, but not a kitten. Just an under sized stray. Not feral, mind you. I can pick him up and he does all those cute kitty things. He purrs and does figure eights around my shins and makes biskets. Cutest kitty ever. But. Not. My. Kitty. He and Tex looked at each other through the screen door and sniffed each other. And tiny kitty went away. For a while.

Then, I took dog out for her final pee of the evening one night and I saw this smudge on one of my chairs. I took dog into the yard and she did her final pee and I took her back inside and said goodnight and went back out to investigate the smudge on my chair.

The kitty was on my chair. Spot was on my chair. Looking at me, he hopped out of the chair and followed me around the patio and let me pick him up and cuddle him. I think he’s a he. Spot doesn’t weigh as much as a paper napkin. So Tiny all by his tiny little self alone in the urban jungle. So much smaller then the other feral cats that roam the street. A prospective snack to whatever might get hungry.

So I fed him.

And I so don’t want to go back to being the cat lady of the neighborhood – been there done that all ready gave the tee shirt away. I do not need to be worrying about a feral cat. Even a very small feral cat – not even a very feral cat, a dumped pet, most likely. But even still. A stray is a stray is a stray. Up to no good, eats song birds, spreads fleas, most likely uninoculated, not fixed, with claws.

But so tiny!

I left him food one night and he didn’t even eat all of it, but he came around a teased Tex through the screen door, and then he went away again. Which either means some one else is his real feeder or he hits every house on the block with his poor tiny cat act and he didn’t like my kibble, or after having eaten all the neighborhood song birds and dumped over garbage cans in a twelve square mile area he just wasn’t all that hungery. I ended up with ants on my patio and that is not good. Up To No Good!

So Tiny. And I’ve named him. And there’s a hurricane coming… and now he’s gone away again.

Sunday, September 14, 2003


Saturday, September 13, 2003


Friday, September 12, 2003

Get Up! Get Up! Get Up!

Beep!Beep!Bee-. Every morning 6:05 AM. It is a daily irritant, but a comforting irritant – it means I didn’t wake up at 5:15 AM or 4:45 AM for no good reason or the cat dropped something and startled me or the dog whined. It means I slept through the night. Yay me.

It also means that I didn’t blearily look at the clock at 6:04 AM and turn off the alarm to spare myself the sound – and go back to sleep until 6:30 AM. So that my unrushed morning routine that is supposed the start no later then 6:05 AM, to fill an hour of time can be condensed into a panicked half hour. Dogger and Kitty do not like this. There is no time for playing or cuddling. It’s all about getting them fed, relived and put away. I missed my paper and my tea.

Usually I am so good at getting up in the morning. I am a morning person. I get things done in the morning hours. I suck all afternoon, but before lunch I am a hurricane.

So. This morning I’m dreaming, about? Nothing. Well, it was a sitcom of a dream. I seemed to be talking to someone or listening to other people talk, but it wasn’t quality talking. The reason behind the cosmos was not being explained. A total waste of time. I was more awake then I thought, because when I think I must have turned over to look at the clock earlier in the morning and being satisfied that the alarm was about to go off, turned it off.

Moron! This is not why I have an alarm clock next to my bed! The idea is to get up to hear the noise, turn off the noise, get out of bed and do my thing. In my own time. Slowly, with out haste, with out stress. I do the same thing every morning and I am very good at it. I have enough time that if I need to deal with trash day or clean out the cats box, I can, it’s okay. I do not have enough time to over sleep and still languidly go through the paper and drink my tea. I like reading my paper and drinking my tea, I do this every morning. I like doing this every morning. I don’t do it over the weekend or on holidays, it’s my work morning routine. I don’t even have to look at the clock once I’ve gotten started. I know that by the time I have read the funnies, skimmed the celebrity gossip, read the metro section columnists and glanced at the obits, it is 6:30. I get up, put my make up on, fix my hair and start to get the blinds open. After all this is should be about 6:45, I work fast, I can finish reading the front page and bring Dogger in from the yard.

I leave the house at 7 AM.

Drive to work, start day. Dull, Dull, Dull.

So, I haven’t read the paper, my tea did not get made and I missed the garbage man. Kitty didn’t get cuddled and Dog got shorted on her morning dig up my yard.

Thank God for whomever brought the doughnuts to the office, because the morning had been so wrong. The doughnut was a happy thing. I also scored no messages on the phone, catty email messages or the real killjoy have finding someone rooting around in my office with out me.

I can almost see the carpet in there now. I able to vacuum in there by the end of business too. The Mouth that Roars will be out of the office until next Monday, so I may be able to get things done.

Why am I vacuuming my office? Don’t they pay someone to do that? Yes, yes they do. Do they vacuum my office? No, no they don’t.

So. I vacuum my office. Usually I have so much stuff on the floor that I can’t vacuum it anyway, I could, but it would be such a hassle it becomes easier to just not look down.

Oh, and RIP Larry Hovis. What a nice man! He was also a good man, an attentive husband and father. He and his late wife married for the long haul, a feat in Hollywood.

I had the privilege of knowing him at school and learning from him. He was a genuinely good person and an excellent teacher. He cared and he could find the good in almost anything, no matter how bad a performance I or anyone else, turned in, he would find something about it that didn’t suck – he wasn’t all happy mouth about it either, he would tell you what didn’t work, but he never made me or anyone else, feel bad. He helped me learn from the bad performances.

What a nice man. An actual Gentleman.

He was a great guy and I miss him. I bet he would have been tickled to be remembered on CNN.com and E! online. There is a memorial at the school on Saturday and I wish I could be there. My sympathy to his family and friends. Bye Larry.

edited to add, RIP Johnny Cash and John Ritter

Thursday, September 11, 2003

“Go look at www.cnn.com , a plane (or something) crashed into the world trade center in NYC”

World trade center damaged; unconfirmed reports say a plane has crashed into tower. Details to come.
-- Second plane crashes into World Trade Center.
-- FBI investigating reports of foul play in World Trade Center plane crashes, according the Associated Press. Details to
-- Sources tell CNN one of two planes that crashed into World Trade Center was an American Airlines 767.
-- President Bush calls plane crashes at World Trade Center a terrorist act.
-- White House evacuated. Details to come.
Fire reported on National Mall in Washington
CNN confirms a plane hit the Pentagon
-- Significant fire at the Pentagon. Details to come.
-- One of World Trade Center towers collapses; fire forces evacuation of State Department
NEW YORK (CNN) -- In what appeared to be coordinated act of terrorism, two jets crashed into the twin towers of the World
Trade Center, collapsing them Tuesday while another aircraft crashed into the Pentagon. Hundreds were injured or killed, if
not more. A fourth aircraft crashed in Pennsylvania with 45 peoplle aboard attacks. At the Pentagon, witnesses said a plane crashed into what is known as the "Army Corridor," the building collapsed and there was an undetermined number of casualties…The city of Washington declared a state of emergency.

-- United Nations evacuated
-- Car bombing at the State Department, The Associated Press reports
Pentagon monitoring second suspected hijacked plane
-- Fighter scrambled amid reports of second plane headed for Pentagon.
-- FAA diverting all U.S.-bound international flights to Canada.
-- Part of Pentagon collapses
-- Second World Trade Center tower collapses in Manhattan
-- NTSB confirms plane crashes near Pittsburgh
-- FAA confirms there are 50 aircraft in the air; none has a problem and all are within 50 miles of their destination.
-- Government sources tell CNN President Bush is not returning to Washington.
-- FAA says no commercial air traffic in U.S. until at least noon EDT tomorrow.
-- Third World Trade Center tower, 47-story building 7, collapses. Details soon.
-- Explosions rock Kabul, Afghanistan, CNN's Nic Robertson reports. Details soon.
White House spokesman says President Bush did not order strike on Afghanistan. Details soon.
-- Afghanistan opposition claims responsibility for Kabul explosions. Details soon.
-- New York City reports at least 78 police officers missing, 200 firefighters presumed dead
-- Bush: "Search is under way" for attackers.
-- Rescuers find 6 survivors in New York: 1 police officer, 5 firefighters. Details soon.
-- NATO considering guarantee of military, intelligence support if U.S. responds to terror attack, sources tell CNN.
WASHINGTON (CNN) -- The U.S. Navy is sending ships to sea to
protect the U.S. East Coast from further attack and to reduce
the number of ships in port. Two aircraft carriers -- the USS George Washington and the USS John F. Kennedy -- are headed for the coast off
New York .Five other ships -- guided missile destroyers and frigates are also headed to sea.
-- President Bush calls attacks 'acts of war;' asks Congress for emergency funding. Details to come.
-- The Pentagon is being evacuated by order of fire marshal. Details to come.
-- White House, Air Force One were targets of terrorists on Tuesday, administration official tells CNN.
-- Empire State Building being evacuated. Details soon
-- "All clear" given at Empire State Building, Penn Station. Details soon.
-- FAA says airports that meet new safety requirements can reopen at 11 a.m. EDT. Details soon.
-- One of two Saudi pilot brothers believed connected with hijackings cooperating with FBI, CNN has learned. Details to come.
-- New York Mayor Rudolph Giuliani reports 4,763 people known missing at this time. Details to come. -- President Bush to visit New York tomorrow says "we will win this war."
-- Five firefighters rescued in World Trade Center rubble, CNN reports.
-- American Express building in New York City being evacuated over concerns it may collapse. Details soon
-- Flight data recorder found from hijacked plane in Pennsylvania, Justice Department says. Details soon.
-- Defense Department intends to ask that 50,000 reservists be called up for 'homeland defense,' CNN has learned
-- Senate approves use of force by 98-0 vote.
-- CNN has learned Pakistan will demand that the Taliban turn over Osama bin Laden. More to come
-- President Bush warns 'there will be costs' in war on terrorism. Details to come.
-- Clerics in Kabul have suggested that accused terrorist mastermind Osama bin Laden be asked to leave Afghanistan for the good of the country.
-- New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani raises estimate of people missing at World Trade Center to 6,333. Details soon.
The identities of some of the victims of theworst terrorist attack on American soil began to emerge Tuesdaevening….As the day drew to a close, it was still horribly unclear exactly how many people had died, but the number was clearly in the thousands.
-- Pentagon officials confirm to CNN that U.S. strikes have begun in Afghanistan. Details soon.
-- U.S. troops have been deployed on the ground in Afghanistan, a senior U.S. official told CNN Friday.
WASHINGTON (CNN) -- Secretary of State Colin Powell, returning
to Washington from his aborted trip to Peru and Colombia Tuesday, said there were "no specific warnings" to herald the multiple terrorist attacks earlier in the day against the financial and military nerve centers of the United States
- White House says it was briefed before September 11 that al Qaeda would attempt to hijack airliners.
-- Purported new video of Osama bin Laden and top aide, aired on the eve of 9/11 anniversary, warns 'the real battle has not started yet.'

From CNN.COM email news updates, September 11, 2001 through September 10, 2003

Wednesday, September 10, 2003

A Jaguar in the Basement

I had to mow the wetlands. I tried to throw the ball for dogger and she wouldn’t follow it into the tall grass. She just stood there and heaved a big sigh in my direction. I did find a dead snake back there, so I’m still on the road the Grantdom. I am keeping the dream alive - one dead snake at a time.

I am used to be being sighed at by my pets. Kitty is an old hand at the Sighing game. He did it more at the apartment because he was so disgusted with the general size of it after our palatial 600 square foot place in Dallas. He could run from one room to another and be in different rooms. He’s a snob. He loves the house. He can run upstairs and downstairs and doesn’t have to spend anytime with me unless he wants to. Dog loves me, she follows me around. Kitty used to follow me around, when he was a baby he would sit in my lap and watch me play with the computer. Sigh. Those were the days; when Kitty could fit in my lap. Today he would need his own chair.

Kitty is mad at me because I won’t let him go outside as much as he wants. I think that he should be happy to spend his time in the basement, with the bugs. He likes bugs. He gets all hunty and predatory and really gets his inner jaguar on. He feels his inner jaguar would do better in the back yard, where there are actual birds. I have seen the spiders in the basement and they are very like birds. Big. Spiders. Big. Tall. Spiders. Now the light down there has burned out and they are running amok. Big, tall running amok spiders. I may never do my laundry again.

I do need to rescue the clothes that are still down there, but that’s going to have to wait until there is more natural light to ward off the beasties.

Maybe if I don’t feed kitty for a few days and just make him spend more time down there, he can handle the spider problem. Or maybe the spiders will handle him?

Maybe kitty can spend more time upstairs with me.

The problem with the basement is the number of open pits that lead to dark, buggy regions that may or may not be the sewer. At least one of the dark scary pits spites out on to my driveway. I don’t fear that pit as it has a big heavy lid. The other pit is open enough that I can look into it. I think things come out of that one. Icky, buggy, bug things. Ewww. I tried to block them by using some spare ends of boards and making a little fence thing around it. It does keep kitty from drowning in it, but it doesn’t keep the bugs out.

It also smells damp down there. Damp and buggy. And moldy. It didn’t smell like that before but now it reeks.

I think something died down there and something else killed it.

The new TV season is starting tonight. Kind of. I’m wanting to really like Whoopee. I watched a show on TRIO, I think, and it was all about Pilot season and how things get to or don’t get to air. When you think of all the giant Turkeys that make it to air, it really makes me scared – of more turkeys like Brothers in Space or anything on the WB or UPN or FOX or ABC…

I looked at the run down of new shows for the season and out of all of them, only liked, three. I’m either old and sad or everything on network TV sucks. But it doesn’t, I like network TV! With the exception of the reality shows and the family values shows and the exploitation shows.

Okay, the Whoopee is too detailed. Big Failure sign. This has six weeks. I enjoy it, it may have less then that. I’m hoping that Happy Family is good ( edited to add, boy, was ever. Not.). I need something to watch every night. NYPD Blue doesn’t come on until 10pm, but that’s in reruns so I’m watching Queer Eye until NYPD comes back.

I still hate my jooobbbbbbb, I still need my jooobbbbb


Tuesday, September 9, 2003

Sensing it

I’m going to wuss out and do another five questions thing today, I’m really in a severe I Hate My Job mood and unless I take advantage of the questions, this would be a 650 plus word screed on how much I hate my job. I know you don’t want to know why it currently sucks and blows and how the Nominal Boss is a complete and total… Okay. Lets get to the questions.

Saturday Sences, comes to my rescue again>

sight]:: watching scary movies

In college I used to go see a lot of scary movies at the movie theater in downtown San Marcos. Today you can buy TVs with bigger screens then they had at that theater.

I don’t like those movies now and I didn’t like them then either, but I had a friend who did and since I liked to spend time with him, I had to spend time with them. I think I resent those movies for scaring me , despite the fact that I know they aren’t real. I don’t like being scared, I can make myself scared easily enough. I don’t need masturbate with a scary movie to get me there. I also never saw Twister, I know Tornado fear and I didn’t need Hollywood to teach me how to be afraid of them, I also didn’t like that I started to see tornados called “Twister”. Thirty something years in Tornado Ally and I never heard a Tornado called a “twister”- Funnel Clouds, Tornadic Activity, Severe Thunderstorms with the chance of Tornadic Activity, never even once heard Twister. If the sky turns green, it’s natures way of tell you to run for cover now. I heard enough of what those winds can do the human body, I don’t really need to see it on screen.

I do like Shark Week, that’s kind of like Horror Movie, only realer, and not much like a movie – real blood!. I see those as object lessons , swim with sharks, get eaten.

[taste]:: popcorn

I worked at movie theatres. I have a different relationship with popcorn then people who didn’t spend their Wonder Years in a bow tie and vest. I’ve eaten popcorn for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I’ve eaten it with fresh Butter Flavored Popcorn Topping – it isnever called Butter. Butter and Butter Flavored Popcorn Topping are not the same thing and you can not call what you put on Popcorn butter unless it is butter. People ordering popcorn, who want it “buttered” always say they want Butter, but unless you are at a very high end movie theatre, which probably calls itself a Cinema, you are not getting butter. You are getting Canola Oil or you’re getting, less frequently, Peanut Oil. Canola Oil was a big thing when it came out. We were very excited. We got very excited by straws and cups lids too, so Canola Oil may not have been the life changer for you it was for us.

Popcorn at a movie theatre most likely gets bagged up in plastic bags at the end of the night and sits there until it gets put back in the warmer before they open in the morning. New popcorn only gets made when the old popcorn gets eaten. There is no such thing as stale popcorn. If you’re at a theatre and they only have sucky movies and there are no big crowds? Chances are the popcorn has been there as long as the doormen.

[smell]:: garlic

I am a garlic slut. I love garlic. Garlic means good food. I would eat garlic flavored ice cream and enjoy it.

[touch]:: burn (by fire, iron, sun or anything else)

My sunburn has reached the peeling stage. The only way to keep myself from obsessing over it all day is to wear things I can’t easily move aside to get to it. I’m wearing sweaters to keep myself from playing with it. I have been lucky lately, I haven’t burned myself on a hot thing in a while.

[hearing]:: scream - There are good screams and bad screams, I hope you hear only the good screams. I haven’t heard either in a long time.

lets see, still hating on job? Yes. Hate, Hate, Hate, Hate. Need my job, need my job, need my job.

Monday, September 8, 2003

Another Monday

Is it Monday all ready? Again? I did my laundry, I mowed both yards, I cleaned out and filled the dishwasher and I put a couple of boxes into the attic after stacking them in front of the door; after watching them hang out there for a couple of hours and watching them not start moving on their own, I knew that if I didn’t put them away now they would not, on their own, move into the attic. At the same time, I was very comfortable with them in front of the door, but the longer they stayed there, the longer they would stay there. Eventually, I would be able to rationalize not getting out the Christmas stuff because those boxes were there and I would have to move them and where would I put them? And how would I get the tree box out past all those boxes and… it would get ugly.

I decided I was not comfortable with my previous comfort about the boxes location in front of the door, and I needed to rethink my comfort level with the boxes and just move the damn things into the attic before it got to late. It took a lot of thought, I had to go upstairs and look at the boxes and then go downstairs and watch TV and then go back upstairs and look at the boxes and… it was an all day thing, not counting the post box moving stress of wondering where Kitty was and if he had followed me into the attic.

Once kitty gets into the attic, he is just going to have to stay in the attic and I might as well get to donating his cat food and turn his tree into a plant stand. He won’t be coming out of the attic and I will not be going in to search for him. My attic, however will be bug free.

Then, seeing that I could make things look nicer, I got really crazy. I took some of the shells off my mantel and put them upstairs. It’s slightly less cluttered then it was. I didn’t completely lose my mind, I didn’t dust anything and the vacuum is still in the closet.

Daisy and I had a walk on Saturday and we went through the historic district, and again I promised myself I would go back to the cemetery there with out the dog to go look around. I don’t see me just walking there by myself though. I would have to drive and I’m not sure I could find it in the car.

I don’t think I’ve seen people just walking places, people drive to places, they don’t walk. I’m afraid I’ll look like a street person walking myself to the cemetery and, probably up to no good. There are very nice mausoleums in side the gates, a person could conceivably live in one. What would they do to me if they thought I did live in one? I know someone watches the place because the gigantic gates are opened and closed and I don’t see any kind of electronic stuff attached to them. Does someone all ready live inside there? Is it in one of the really nice mausoleums? Or is it in a house that is cleverly designed to look like a mausoleum? Have they been on Extreme Homes?

I also think people will look at me funny as I would be wondering around the cemetery with a camera. This isn’t New Orleans and the cemeteries are not that interesting. The historic cemetery or to say the Wealthy cemetery, because it can call it self Historic all it wants, it isn’t the official Historic cemetery in town. It should have to call itself the “We Tried Our Damnedest To Take It With Us – look At Our Big Crypts! Cemetery” the historic cemetery is full of , with genuinely historic,( with a few exceptions) poor people.

Semantics aside, “WTODTTIWU-LAOBC” is a bit proud of it’s non historical self. Pretty trees though and many photogenic tomb stones notwithstanding.

The people buried at the historic cemetery eight blocks away they buried the,( mostly, but with a few exceptions) poor folks, the black folks, the folks from out of town. At “WTODTTIWU-LAOBC” the folks aren’t poor, they aren’t black and they aren’t from out of town. Dead and buried and it’s still all about Location! Location! Location!

Sunday, September 7, 2003


Saturday, September 6, 2003


Friday, September 5, 2003

School Days, School Days, dreadful old golden rule days

1. Are you going to school this year, if so, which year or grade?

No, No a thousand times no! I got myself out by promising myself I would never go back. I didn’t even like sitting for my driving test. Desks make me queasy. I had the worst case of short timer, senioritis on record. Every day towards the end was just hell. I just wanted out.

I did learn to hate the question. The “So, What are you going to do after graduation?” question. I had no answer, I had no plans, I hadn’t sent out a single resume and I had no idea what I was going to do; really what do you do with a degree in Theatre if you aren’t going to grad school and you aren’t going to catch the first bus to New York?

You move back home with your parents.

And you send out resumes
And you send out resumes
And you send out resumes
And you send out resumes
And you send out resumes
And you send out resumes
And you send out resumes
And you send out resumes

And finally, you get a bite. And. And you sit in front of his desk, dressed in the closest things to Office Wear that you own and he tells you that maybe you should print your resume on pink paper.

Because pink paper isn’t going to get you hired, you volunteer

Do enough scut work, be at the right place at the right place, be able to survive on the less then nothing pay they offer, because you live with your parents, get hired at your volunteer job. Because you’re young and you can work like a dog for no money and it’s the only way you’re going to work in your field .

Precede to work like a dog. Woof.

2 If yes, where are you going (high school, college, etc.)? If no, when did you graduate?

I graduated from high school in 1987. I graduated from College in 1993. I enjoyed college so much more then high school, I decided to spend more time there. It had nothing to do with the fact my “adviser” was a drunk who was useless after 3 pm, and that was usually when I saw him for advise. Useless. How was I supposed to know that Big Red was an alcoholic beverage? They sold it in the machines, the vodka I think they had on tap in the teachers lounge. I thought he was just really, really relaxed. And talkative. And easily distracted. I also thought he was going to pull a math class out of his ass that I could pass and that he would do this prior to before I wanted to graduate. I found the class, I sat in Adds and Drops all afternoon, in an unair-conditioned gymnasium and waited for enough people to drop a very popular class so that I could get the requirement and graduate. Miraculously enough people did and I got the class and my diploma.

3. What are/were your favorite school subjects?

I wrote for my high school paper, so Journalism and I did well in History. Over all, I didn’t enjoy anything and sucked in school. I took the SAT and I have thankfully, blocked my score. It wasn’t pretty. I think it was in the high three digits. I am not a math person, I am much more verbal.

4. What are/were your least favorite school subjects?

Math. Anything Math related. I hated math. I hate math now. Math is not my friend. I graduated from high school with out ever taking a real algebra class. I did know how to write a check and read an electric meter and was hell at figuring interest. I graduated College with out ever taking a real Algebra class but I knew the difference between a Waning and a Waxing Moon and I was hell at the moons of Jupiter.

5. Have you ever had a favorite teacher? Why was he/she a favorite

I really loved my second grade teacher, and I really liked my senior English teacher in high school. In college I had a bad habit of losing the syllabus on the first day of class and spending the semester not knowing who my professor was. My theatre profs were all right and I did know their names, usually first and last. I also knew who they were sleeping with. I bet the Math Majors didn’t know who their profs were sleeping with. Dorks.

On a completely different topic, I bid on a rug on Ebay. It’s a $5400 9x14 Persian rug and I’m going to get it for $19.99, but I’ll go as high as $25.00. The auction goes on until the tenth. I’m thinking I’ll get lucky.

As always, thanks to my friends at Friday Five. Com.

Thursday, September 4, 2003

More Letters From My Pets

Dear Feeder,

Nonobaddogthatisnotyours ate your socks. It also chewed your hair things, wet the carpet and chewed up Its bed. The back yard, that should be my yard, smells and is full of odd holes. NoNo is allowed in the yard whenever it wants to. Should I remind you that my ancestors prowled the Serengeti – I should not be banished to the basement to hunt bugs, while Its ancestors lived in caves, much like the basement! and ate my ancestors leftovers.

I should be the one in the back yard! NoNo has a box. It likes the box, it is comfortable in the box. I am comfortable in the back yard. I am useful in the back yard. I kill things. It kills your socks, I kill things, I would kill things if there were things to kill.

It intentionally, scares things out of the back yard. It makes noise and it makes bad smells. I contain what odors I may cause, in the house away from the back yard. Away from the things

It doesn’t even know what to do in the yard. It lays around, it chases round things that are not thing things. It thinks gray fur things are funny. It wants to play with the gray fur things. It has no respect for the natural order of the nature. It has never lived in the nature. I once spent several hours in the nature and I learned from it.

We also need to talk about my name. It is not Kitty-Kitty, Baby Meowmeow, Pooky, Itty Bitty Kitty, Baby Bunny Rabbit, or Tiny Dog . You are not physically equipped to say my name,. I’m not going to answer to your Pet Name. I am my own Cat. I will allow you, if you must, to call me Sir – but with respect. No baby talk.

We also need to discuss my food. My food should cost more then Its food, my food should come in interesting shapes and should taste better then Its food. My food should not have a language you can not speak as its’ primary wording. I will not eat the offal you have been feeding me. In the mean time until you buy me better food, I will work to make sure that the shelves are kept clean and free of objects. I will work all night if necessary, needless to say, I will keep you informed and will update you frequently, because I love you.


P.S – I can and will starve myself.

From Dogger

Dear Mama,

The Not Dog makes the house smell. It smells like Not Dog and I make it smell good, like Dog. I did not eat the foot clothes, I played with the foot clothes because it was like playing with you. You are my favorite smell. I want to smell everything that smells like you.

Not Dog does not need to be in the yard. Not Dog can not protect you from the Not You that are around the back yard, I keep those things that are not you away. Even the Not You things that are very small. They are Not You and Not Dog and they can not be good. I want to smell the Not Dog to see what the Not Dog is like. Not Dog will not let me. I need to taste the Not Dog so I can know what Not Dog really is. I will not eat the Not Dog because you got mad and made loud noise when I played with the foot clothes and the foot clothes were not even Not Dog. Also, the last Not Dog thing that I played with tasted bad and made me feel unhappy.

The Not Dog has a name. I have a name, a secret Dog name and I want to tell you, but you are a People . I am sorry. You can call at me any name you want, I like everything you call at me . I can not answer you, because you don’t know my name. Someday you will know my name. You can call at me Daisy.

I love my food. I want to eat more Food. I think you forgot to feed me. Feed me more.



P.S – I love you.

Wednesday, September 3, 2003

Forgive me Father for I have sunned

Ow. My sunburn hurts. Still. I’m greased up with enough of the Norwegian Fisherman’s friend that when I went to give blood today they were afraid needle couldn’t get purchase, so we decide that I would come back later, when I’m peeling.

My clothes are all against me. Everything I own has scratchy, hard things hidden inside that I hadn’t noticed before. I stand in front of my closet and look for things that look like they wouldn’t hurt. Looks can be deceiving. And two minutes later, irritating.

It’s not like I use starch or that anything I own has seen the business end of an Iron in ages, so in theory, everything should be sunburn safe. No, not really. Clothes have evil little travelers that ride with them. Seams are so nothing most of the time. Invisible, even. Not . Any. More. Tags are warped, evil, nasty little buggers and they are torturous to the sunburned. I think they should be counted against the manufacturer. If you ever wondered what they make tags out of, the things seem to be constructed of rose thorns and broken glass stitched together with fishing line and barbed wire.

Everything I own is a prospective weapon. I would try to wear my nightgown to work but there was just a lecture about just that piece of clothing and how we are not to wear it to work. We are also not supposed to wear slippers. Fascists.

So now I stand in front of my closet and eye my all ready limited wardrobe and have to make decisions . Am I so tired of that top that I can’t face it again or could I face it knowing that it is with out hateful tag and prominent seams . Or what about this one? True I have worn it a lot. And it is very tired, but it is almost the same fabric as my nightgown and it is not a nightgown so I could wear it but I did just wear it and possibly, sweat in it, so that maybe out of the running. I have about a thousand different vests, but the vests go best with my white blouses, all of which are full of sunburn traps and stiffness and other sharp things. Like buttons and collars – so those are out.

I have a number of reasonably nice tee shirts, but they are not really all that sunburn friendly themselves or I couldn’t wear them to work. I could in theory wear a dress, but spending the day explaining why I wore a dress, is less then thrilling. “No, I’m not going to court, No I don’t have a date, No, I did not run out of clean clothes!

I’m about to die of sunburn and so far the only comment I have received about my reddish new look is someone asking if I started to wear more make up. I mean, do we apply blush to our ears or our necks I mean if we do, I have been left out for years.

I also have no love for being snuck up behind and grabbed while the grabber is cackling about people too stupid to wear sunscreen at the beach ( these people being nurses, who I assumed Were covered by that First Do No Harm idea which should have precluded them from sunburn grabbing), but. I was wearing sunscreen, thank you very much. It failed me. Or it wanted me to put more on and I didn’t. Or something.

Another everyday thing that now is a sunburn irritant. Sheets and towels. They also seem like such, nice, friendly objects. Sheets are mean and they irate the sunburn on purpose. I can’t just go to the sheet closet and pick out a less violent sheet, because all my sheets are the same. Sheets. I finally get to bed, I suffer the get into bed sunburn related pain. After some considerable discomfort I find a comfortable position. Heaven. I fall asleep, I change positions in my sleep, DAMN. Lather, Rinse, Repeat. All Damn night. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

My towels could be used to wring confessions out of criminals. Ow.

Tuesday, September 2, 2003

Hoooommeeeeward Boouuunnddd

I wish I wasn’t, Homeward bound You have no idea how much I really wanted to just “Happy Tuesday!!!” it.

I went to the beach for the first time in a long time. Just sat by the beach and read my book. And played in the water. And got sunburned. If any of you were out looking at mars over the weekend, you weren’t seeing it. You were seeing my bright red self. Mars only thinks its got a big red face. Mars was pinkish and to my left.

I now know why the masses didn’t discover the wonder of the Great Lakes as a vacation destination. It wasn’t the scale, the lakes like the ocean, are huge, it wasn’t the quality of the beach, both are lovely and sandy, and it wasn’t the distance, people drive for days to get to the ocean.

People don’t go to the Great Lakes because the water is too damn cold for extended water play. You can’t spend an hour flopping in the surf because you would freeze to death or at best, lose a finger.

The warm water really gives you the opportunity to flop yourself into a deep state of meditation. You don’t have to be outfitted in something yoga-ific that Madonna approved. You can wear anything you don’t mind getting salt water on.

Salt water also causes buoyancy. You can float! unaided, for as long as you can stay on the right side of the water, but let a bigger then average wave pound you into the shore and you may lose your floppy state of mind and find yourself just a bigger piece of flotsam – some old guy with a metal detector will throw you into his trunk, take you back to his garage and spray paint you and cover you with reflectors until you turn into yard art. Avoid beaching yourself.

Anyway, back to my new found Theory of Floppiness.

All great theories seem to have multiple points. Floppiness does not have points. Floppiness requires, rounded, calming shapes. Points are not calming shapes, they are pointy shapes. Not Calming and not conductive to floppiness.

Floppiness has suggestions, ideas, thoughts, no points.

Letting yourself go mentally floppy does not preclude dealing with more concrete issues, you cannot flop yourself away from mortgage payments or credit card debt or work. You can flop away from emotional things. Old friend suddenly being a complete boor? Want to kill him? Flop, flop, flop away!, some cow flip you off for no reason whatsoever? Flop away! Feeling low self esteem forming regarding your less then tailored shrubbery? Flop away!. Your feelings can be preserved almost indefinitely.

To make Flopping Away work for you, you have to decide before hand that piddly little things are piddly little things. If someone is ugly to you or you have an interpersonal issue that needs to be dealt with? And you can’t right now deal with? Get floppy. Let the waves take you where they may! Let the current take you away from the icky interpersonal issue, which, really isn’t your problem any way.

You must be firm in forcing yourself to let go, and let the waves! you cannot brood about it, you have to remain floppy or end up in some hideous garden spray painted and covered with reflectors. The only way to remain calm and at ease is to remain floppy. You must let yourself over to the current. Stressing about things out of your control, say your old friends boorish new behavior is not floppy. Stress leads to spray paint and garden gnomes.

If you need a mentor in your floppiness, think about the Porpoise. This is a completely floppy animal. A dolphin, while somewhat floppy, has too many expectations attached to it. Strive to be a dolphin and you’ll be expected to have answers, and untold depth and contacts in Hollywood. Porpoises do not have untold depth, or famous friends, they have floppiness.

Getting dicked around? Get Sharky , bare your fangs, eat that jerks head? No. Too messy and not at all floppy, Unleash your inner porpoise and flop away, roll around in the surf and go where the current takes you.

Monday, September 1, 2003