Tuesday, November 30, 2004

Have you ever signed up for a new account online and while creating a user name discover that everything is already taken? As in, EVERYTHING. No matter how original you think you're being. It's taken. Then you start thinking that the system is messed up and nothing that you type in will be accepted, so you test your suspicion by typing in the most ridiculous word you can think of only to have 'tubafreak' be accepted?


Do you know why things like that happen to me? Because I do things like climb on top of my girlfriend and begin massaging her shoulders and just when I think she's reached a state of euphoria , I ask her if I can have the last Smirnof Ice.

Tuesday, November 23, 2004

Two Amazing Elmo Discoveries

Monday on Elmo's World the subject was books. Dorothy (Elmo's goldfish who fantasizes about him performing various acts pertaining to the theme) pictured him walking a tight rope. While inching is way across, Elmo lost his balance and began to teeter. Instead of plunging to his death he, with his legs straddling the rope, bounced off his genitals and found himself securely balanced again. Therefore...

1. Elmo has no nuts.

Today the theme was family. Although it was never directly addressed during the show, those of us paying attention clearly noted...

2. Elmo has no family.

No nuts. No folks. No nothing. And I am writing a letter to invite him to the vegetarian Thanksgiving we were to attend. He can have our seat at the table eating all the tofurkey he can stand.

Tuesday, November 16, 2004

Yesterday I watched Moulin Rouge and cried at the end. CRIED. How gay. I can say that. You know the rules.

Anyway, my friend was asking about my sister’s wedding since I didn’t mention it after returning from Atlanta. I thought to myself, most people hate attending weddings. Why would anyone want to HEAR about a wedding?

For anyone vaguely interested, my week went something like:

Wednesday: Performed tasks on to-do list provided by sister. Discovered surplus of bulk Jordan Almonds sitting around in boxes.

Thursday: Ran errands with sister. Ate Jordan Almonds.

Friday’s itinerary was supposed to go something like this.

1. Shower and dress for bridal luncheon.
2. Attend bridal luncheon at fancy restaurant.
3. Prepare luncheon trays for relatives arriving at hotel.
4. Greet arriving relatives.
5. Wedding rehearsal.
6. Rehearsal dinner.

It ended up being...

1. Shower and dress for bridal luncheon.
2. Drive mother to emergency room with broken nose.
3. Fill prescriptions and buy frozen bag of peas to keep swelling down.
4. Greet relatives at hotel.
5. Explain broken nose to relatives.
6. Watch dad blow a fuse after mistaking the word “nose” for “leg”.
7. See relatives devour sandwich trays.
8. Meet at Cathedral for wedding rehearsal.
9. Hold breath while drunken cousin makes toast at rehearsal dinner.

Today's topic on Elmo's World was feet. So Elmo waved his cute little feet at everyone accordingly. After questioning a rather large human foot, he propped himself on top of it and proceeded to play the 'foot song' to the tune of Jingle Bells. Every topic of the day gets played to the tune of Jingle Bells. But this time he did it with his feet.

Friday, November 12, 2004

Lately, we have been watching Sesame Street in the morning. I think Jenny began watching out of lonliness while I was away for a week.

The first morning I awoke to hear Elmo singing his theme song, I rolled over in bed to see Jenny tucking in her shirt and smiling at the TV. Elmo's World is timed perfectly between her stepping out of the shower and leaving for work. Today's topic was bugs. Elmo was chatting with a ladybug,

"What's that ladybug? You have to leave to go to a PICNIC? Okay, ladybug. Goodbye ladybug!"

and while ending a conversation with a fly he exclaimed...

"Okay, fly. Now SHOO!" in his little Elmo voice. Then he sat down to his tiny piano and began singing,

"Bugs, bugs, bugs...(to the tune of Jingle Bells)...bugs, bugs, bugs. Bugs, bugs, bugs, bugs, bugs!"

I mainly thought of Elmo as the doll I would see at Wal-mart and just want to punt across the store. But the real Elmo, is a puppet and we love him.

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

Beef. It’s what I had for dinner…
(this was originally written Sunday for whatever it's worth.)

So Jenny went out of town and knowing I’m not much of a cook and fearing I would eat Jack-in-the-box tacos every meal, she brought home a package of ground beef for me. Beef is great. You can make all kinds of stuff with it. You can form it into patties and have hamburgers or make chili or just brown it, add stuff to it and—Dinner!

So today I finally broke out the package that had been sitting in the fridge for two days after eating only microwave popcorn on Saturday. I put it in a skillet and searched the pantry for things to add. I quickly found a can of whole tomatoes which was poured in at once. I was off to a good start. It looked and smelled like the beginning of a great dish. But then I was stuck. I should add some onion and green peppers to this. But I didn’t have either. I hunted for more stuff in the pantry and found a package of Lipton’s onion soup mix. Score! In it went. I hit the fridge next, where I found sour cream and cheese. I’ll shred some cheese and add a huge dollop of sour cream on top. This is going to be great!

You know how if you’re not much of a cook, and you throw something together that you would otherwise consider kinda gross if served to you by someone else, but since you made it yourself with only the most basic of cooking skills, it’s almost scrumptious? Guys, you know what I’m talking about, right?

Well, I would hardly describe this dish as being scrumptious. And I had it not only once, but twice.

El Cheapo cooking tip.

Well, it’s more like a preparation of food tip. While grating cheese, instead of trying to pass the cheese over the grater a dozen or so times as fast as you can, just take long strokes, bearing down on the block, forcing more cheese through. This is way more productive.

Everybody already does this? Oh.

Currently Reading: Zen in the Art of Writing—Releasing the creative genius within you, by Ray Bradbury, which I totally recommend although it’s probably not even in print anymore so I would let you borrow my copy accept that it’s so old the cover has become brittle and is breaking away at random. It is divided not into chapters, but essays containing life experiences that inspired his stories.


Around two or three in the morning, I would have to go to the bathroom. I would lie in bed for half an hour or so, torn between the agonized need for relief, and what I knew was waiting for me in the dark hall leading up to the attic. At last, driven by pain, I would edge out of our dining room into that hall, thinking: run fast, leap up, turn on the light, but whatever you do, don’t look up. If you look up before you get the light on, It will be there. The Thing. The terrible Thing waiting at the top of the stairs. So run, blind: don’t look.

I ran, I leaped. But always, I couldn’t help it, at the last moment, I blinked and stared into the awful darkness. And it was always there. And I screamed and fell back downstairs, waking my parents. My dad would groan and turn over in bed, wondering where this son of his had come from. My mother would get up, find me in a scrambled heap in the hall, and go up to turn on the light. She would wait for me to climb up to the bathroom and come back down to have my tearstained face kissed and my terrified body tucked in bed.

The next night and the next night and the night after that, the same thing happened. Driven mad by my hysterics, Dad got out the old chamber pot and shoved it under my bed.

Saturday, November 06, 2004

Here is a photo of a weenie holding a hotdog.

I'm just gonna string some thoughts together here. First off, in case anyone is wondering, free compliation CD's--from wherever...a music store, the new issue of Wired--suck. You get what you pay for and in this case, nothing. Nothing is what you get. I have listened to two different ones in the past two days and can say that none of the artists are noteworthy. One of them even includes a song by Liz Phair and it is terrible. She has completely abandoned her previous style of music. I thought I was listening to a Hilary Duff song. I'm not kidding here. Go find and download "Why can't I?" and see for yourself. I don't know why you can't...or why you couldn't, Liz. Just don't do it again.

I realized something today while sitting in the left-turn lane at a stoplight. (I was in my car.) When I started using a digital camera I noticed the pictures seemed washed out. I always have to drag them into Photoshop and correct the contrast and saturation. But today, while sitting there staring at the sky and trees and buildings, it became clear to me that the world is washed out. Or at least the sun makes it appear that way.

Inspired by our downstairs neighbors.
Those who really have nothing to say, say it really loudly.

If you're going to be a homebody, shut the fuck up for christ's sake. They are apparently tethered to their apartment because their dog is a barker. From the moment they leave 'til the very last moment until they are fitting the key into the lock, there is nonstop barking.

When they are especially loud, I usually go into the kitchen and clang dishes and pans around in our stainless steel sink really, really loud and cough all butch and loud, which is funny if you could see how stringy I am. The noise, from my point of view anyway, is to give them a taste of their own medicine and to remind them that you can hear everything through the walls and floor. I usually get yelled at by Jenny for being immature, but the scolding doesn't outweigh the feeling of satisfaction I get when I'm finished. She should be glad I am doing the dishes!

I'm just full of love today.

Friday, November 05, 2004

Crest Vs. Colgate

I considered doing a little research before making this entry, but quickly decided that toothpaste is just too boring.

First of all, let me state that Jennny is gone for the weekend. Lately, I've been the one out of town, but now the shoe is on the other foot and I am sad. I will follow her example of getting nearly drunk before attempting to sleep without her next to me. She thinks I overlooked the bottle of Vanilla Stoli in the freezer. I made myself a Coke the other night to conserve our bottled water for my morning coffee. She heard a clatter from the freezer and fearful I had dipped into her stash she asked for a sip. I played dumb so that I could play even dumber about drinking her vodka while she was gone.

"You didn't say that was your vodka in the freezer."

Speaking of vanilla-flavored vodka, today I entered the bathroom to find a new container of toothpaste sitting on the sink. I squeezed some out on my toothbrush and began scrubbing.

"This is weird tasting. It tastes exactly like my mother's vanilla hand lotion smells. Ew."

I understand there is a perpetual toothpaste war between Colgate and Crest, but I have to ask you Crest people...Is the world really ready for vanilla-flavored toothpaste? Call me old-fashioned, but I want to brush with something minty. Something that makes me go "Ahhhh...." I want my tongue to burn. I don't want to be jerked into awakeness wondering if I've grabbed the wrong tube of personal care by mistake.

To be fair, it's labeled, Vanillamint. Or to be exact, Refreshing Vanillamint. There appears to be no space between vanilla and mint. And there is an illustration of a leaf that has just blown in from the North next to it. Someone decided that just plain vanilla was a little over the top.

"Look, we'll leave the mint on for a while until people get used to it. Then we'll slowely phase it out. Then maybe even change the leaf to a vanilla bean or something. Take that Colgate!! Ha ha ha ha ha!"

Wednesday, November 03, 2004

In the next couple of hours I will hopefully eat something, calm down, and reflect on our loss like a sane person. I'm aware no one comes here to read my political views, but I am deeply emotional right now. Again, I am stunned and confused regarding this great country's decision.

With any luck El cheapo will be back to normal in a day or two with possibly a photo or two from the wedding in Atlanta. My sister kept my mother and myself pretty busy and I was frankly too tired to write much of anything. Too tired even, to complain about sleeping on the sofa for six nights. (Wow, was it really that many?) Although, one morning when my mother awoke especially early, I was kicked off the sofa onto the guest bed which I discovered must have been constructed entirely of particle board. The ground would have been softer. To be fair, I must mention the one night that I was able to sleep in my sister's empty bed on her wedding night which was rather comfortable -- in between the hours I spent in the bathroom puking from eating and drinking too much. The upside to that is I had no hang over when all of the relatives on our side of the family showed up at once to await their flight home.

"Everybody please take home lots of left-over candy and monogrammed matchboxes. Please."

There now. I've destracted myself for a whole ten minutes.

I have a question. Feel free to answer it for me.

Is it considered worse to--

a. lead a life of homosexuality?


b. deny one's homosexuality and live a lie?

Or would it be preferable for us to be alone? Is that God's intention?

Wait a minute. That's not what's going on in my head. Not even close.

We're fucked. So entirely fucked.

Except you. You white, ultra-conservative, bible-toting, redneck, close-minded, HETEROSEXUAL, intolerant fuck.

YOU will be just fucking PEACHY for the next four years.

I keep logging in and then logging back out. I was going to write about driving home from voting yesterday and seeing a very large Kerry/Edwards sign sagging from a garage door due to a previous rain. The bottom half was lying face down in the driveway. I tried not to think of it as a bad omen and ignored the sick feeling in my stomach.

I don't know what to say.

I'm going to steal something I read on another blog.


What a sad, sad day this is.

Tuesday, November 02, 2004


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