I Am Losing My Vibrant Fertility: A Monday 10 To Get Us Through to Spain
I know. I have read the emails and I miss you all too. Go look at last February and you'll notice that I didn't write much then, either. But I do have a Monday 10. Which is probably more like a Tuesday 10 by the time I get done with it, because I am busy.
1. Why I Heart Joe I heart Joe for many reasons, not the least of which is that he doesn't take shit from me. I heart Joe because he's completely unapologetic for not being wired for relationships. I heart Joe because he's funny. I heart Joe because of conversations like this one:
Me Hey, what would you do if I got all childish on your ass and told you not to call or email me until after I got back from my vacation? Would you be sweet and nice and then send an email trying to figure out why I was so upset?
Joe No. What I would do is to never, ever call or email you EVER again. EVER.
Me That's what I thought. That's probably why we get along. To a point.
2. New Allies CD: If you haven't picked up the new Allies cd yet, you should. Rock with harmony. I wish I could give you a link, but well...I can't find one. But you can email Pook if you want a copy. I don't much care for the first track, but I love everything after that. And I'm old, so, you know. It really is good. Especially the third track. You know, Allies is the re-making of the LEGENDARY Pittsburgh rock group Pikadori. I'm just saying.
3. Why I Love Candy: Because I went batshit crazy with anger while I was home and sent a series of insane pissed of texts to her because she was who was there to listen. Thanks, sweets. That couldn't have been fun for you.
4. Oh, by the way...Madrid. Yes, I'm leaving Wednesday morning. Some people are asking, "Why Madrid for this birthday?" Well, yes, two reasons. The first is that usually my birthday is such a spectacular time, and last year it was COMPLETELY SHITTY THANK YOU VERY MUCH CHARLER. Anyway, I want to reclaim it. The second is because my OBGYN actually said to me at my annual exam in December the following, "I see that you're turning 34 this year. You know, that's considered to be your last year of vibrant fertility. After that, you actually fall into the high risk category if you get pregnant."
I only wish I were making that up. He used those words. "Vibrant fertility." And I kind of figured that if what I'd basically done is make a lot of life choices about traveling and partying that may or may not have taken away the baby dream, I should really blow it out for my birthday. And so that's what we're doing.
Princess D, Lis, Larry - I'M SO EXCITED! WE'RE GOING TO HAVE SUCH A RIDICULOUS TIME.
5. Other People Whose Stuff Online Is More Entertaining Than Mine: You should listen to my friend Brent in Montreal doing his morning sports radio show. 8-9am EST on Mondays. That's 5am PST for my west coast people. I understand that most of my west coast people are not compulsive insomniacs and 5:00am isn't a time when you've already been up for half an hour, but if you are (or if you're on the east coast), you can listen by clicking the (don't mock me for being obvious) listen link here. I promise he's more entertaining than anything I've written lately.
Then again, I'm about to leave for Spain, and trips like that usually result in good stories.
6. Dear Trick: That is EXACTLY why I have a blog. Except that I'm not allowed to blog about the "unfortunate incident" since not everything is resolved yet. So expect an email full of stories of my poor behavior and its unfortunate outcomes. Love you, mean it.
7. Why I Heart Old People: I was seated next to this sweet, sweet old man at the fight on Saturday, and he spent the night telling me bad jokes and playing memory retention games with me.
What's Irish and stays out all night? Paddy O'Furniture
What do you call a homosexual Irishman? Gaelic
What food cuts your sex drive in half? Wedding cake
It went on like this. Also, can you name seven sports teams (NHL, NBA, MLB) whose team names don't end in "s"? Fun times.
8. Why You're Jealous You're Not on this Spain Trip: Because you're not doing this with us, as suggested by Jen's sister, who lives in Madrid and gave us the 411:
9. I already know... that I need to take the Christmas song down off of my MySpace page. Thank you for the reminders. At this point, it's really a matter of principle to see how long I can leave it up. Kind of like my mother's holiday tree.
10. I'm out of material: Let's be honest, I've been out of material since item number 8. Oh, I know!!!! Enjoy the Sarah Silverman "I'm Fucking Matt Damon" video. That step segment is priceless.
I leave manana for the YVR, and though it is a work trip, it always gets really dirty when we're up there. I'm exhausted before even having left. Here are ten quick things.
1. I have brought three Christmas gifts and all of my cards are addressed. Next week, we address envelopes for the CHRISTMAS LETTER THAT BETTER BE GETTING WRITTEN RIGHT NOW BECAUSE YOU TOTALLY COMMITTED TO BEFORE THANKSGIVING and five more gifts.
2. I almost had a heart attack when Jennie Garth was in the bottom two tonight.
3. I have a long entry about Pittsburgh and home. I may or may not have time to write it on the plane.
4. I am still stressed! It's still out of control here!
5. I'm not sure why it's this effing hard to get organized about what hotel people are staying at for that wedding in Austin. I'm really at a loss. No joke. I'm having conversations with five different people, all of whom are staying at different locations.
6. I haven't been on Facebook or MySpace for more than 15 minutes in over two days. I sent out about two tweets yesterday. That is how underwater I am.
7. I do not want what I have not got. Except that I would like four more hours in a day and Supernatural: Season 2.
8. Maks is my boyfriend. I have inappropriate thoughts about him all the time. Yum.
9. HellDamn, it's that time of year.
10. I'll catch you all on the flip from Vancouver. If I make it out of there alive. Remember how there was that story from the last time I was there about Halff actually thinking there may have been an earthquake? Here's hoping I match that. And also, let's be real, you know how I feel about Canadian Boys.
Or maybe you don't know that story. Believe it or not, some stories are even too inappropriate for here.
I Innundate You With Pop Culture: 90210, MySpace, Blogs and Filipino Inmates
1. Do you ever get sick of my talking about Beverly Hills 90210? I hope not, because watching that show often gives me the same sensation as standing in front of a Cezanne or listening to "The Love of Three Oranges." I don't know that there has ever been a greater season of television than the second season of 90210. It starts in the summer, with the kids on the beach. Then there is the first day of school. Emily Valentine and her crazy stalking of Brendan. The first appearance of Jake Hanson (played by our boy, Grant Show) lusting after a seventeen-year-old Kelly. And then, the season finale where Jim Walsh tells Brenda and Dylan that they aren't allowed to see each other any more. Dylan smashes a bottle of Jack Daniels against the wall, runs out, LEAPS into his Porsche and drives away. Cut to Brenda, distraught, confused, hurt, on the Walsh family lawn, looking after him. And...black screen.
Don't tell me greatness is limited to art from centuries past. 90210 will prove you wrong.
2. What would you rather read while I'm gone? You know, in the great tradition of Jocelyn Loving Jocelyn and believing that you will all kind of wistfully hit your "I Love Paul Jack" bookmark while I'm gone, hoping that perhaps I have found satellite dsl in the wild and posted, I was going to post some non-dated content while I was away. I'm so delusional, right? Right. But in the event that you want to humor me, what would you rather read while I'm gone:
a. I recently found some very old journal entries from back in the day of about four journal incarnations ago. By which I mean "the last time I was single." By which I mean "when I was 23 or so." It's amusing to read them now.
b. Some fiction. Of yet undetermined which fiction, but not the most recent fiction. Something probably from the last three years.
c. Transcribed entries from a journal I keep in which I create imaginary dialogue among my cats.
I mean, really, your move while I'm gone is to follow Trick on Twitter. But if you have a preference among those other three, let me know.
3. So, MySpace: You know, we'll be talking about awesomeness later, but in an effort to collect awesomeness, I was talking to K-Flo and she said:
"Something has happened with the help of this device called myspace... although I am not always a big fan of it, I will sing its praises for the friendships that have been rekindled, lost friends who are now found and the ability to make each other laugh on a daily basis...even when it seems like there is nothing funny in the world!"
I have to agree with her (and about facebook too, moreso maybe). How many wonderful people are back in my life, or more in my life, or even in my life at all, because of those sites? Sure, those sites, can be used for evil. But they can also be used for good, and there's a lot that goes on over there that makes me happy daily. You can decide for yourself if the fact that I posted the following two pictures of J-Flo and K-FLo and then J-FLo and Me from 2002 on MySpace is good or evil for yourself.
If want to play, friend me. If you're not on MySpace or Facebook, pick Facebook.
4. So, Darren's Blog: Right. Is here. And now in the side bar. I'm not sure what one says about the sheer coolness that is Darren and his perfect life other than to simply copy and paste our exchange in the comments section of this blog for you, in case you don't read comments:
Darren: Ah, Jocelyn. How I've missed you. Remember when we went to that gay sex club and you told the straight dude hitting on you that I was your husband and then, separately, I told him that it was okay with me if he jumped you and he said "Dude, you are so open minded!"? Yeah.. good times.
Jocelyn DARREN!!!!!
I missed you too! I often speak of that night in the gay sex club, but usually I'm telling the story about how my friend and your friend went to the kitchen to "get a drink of water" and an entire euphemism was born. I will write you soon and we will all have drinks next time I'm in LA!
5. No playlist, but some YouTube: That playlist crap takes time and I'm listening to opera right now anyway (The Love of Three Oranges). While I enjoy Prokofiev, you may enjoy Filipino inmates who are forced to dance to the choreography of music videos from the 1980s as prison yard exercise. Again, only funny because it's true.
Thriller, complete with some poor inmate who is now the girl inside and outside of the cell.
Let's Go Have Breakfast at a Snotty French Patissiere in the Bellagio Recommended by a Gay Male Escort
Which is how shamus and I spent our Sunday morning. But there was lots before that, too.
"The fun" started on Friday evening. After a run to Sephora, we went to dinner at Michael Mina. shamus didn't think that it was funny when I turned to him in mock horror as we entered the restaurant and said, "I can't believe you left your wife-beater" at home. It would have been perfect to wear here."
There are the usual shamus challenges with the menu. I eat more foie gras than any person should have in any one sitting. We essentially force them to set up a wine tasting for us like we're something special. We REALLY like the water and send an email off of my phone to remind ourselves of the name so we can track it down (because it's a snotty import called Llanllyr Source). It's nice. If I had endless cash and a super fast metabolism, I'd have that kind of meal before going drinking every night that I went drinking.
We have some goofy gays take some goofy pictures of us in the goofy Bellagio floral display for the Fourth of July. Here's a sampling.
Me to the gay taking this picture, "This dress makes me look like a bubble." The gay to me, "A bubble of perfect!"
So crazy! shamus with the fake lemonade stand!
It's not time to head to Caramel yet, so we decide to have a drink in the Baccarat Bar. This bar, which xtine and I like to refer to as the bar where the youngins seem to hang out. In fact, I may be able to summarize what happens next with this exchange.
1. I text xtine a picture of the couch featured in just about all of these photos and the message "Your favorite couch in Vegas misses you."
2. She texts back "Tell it I miss it too. At least it seems as though there are no 23 year olds attached to it this time."
3. I text her back this picture and this message: "Actually, there are two 23 year old Aussies attached to it."
Because this is what happened. When shamus and I walked into the Baccarat Bar, there were no open seats. There were a couple of Gays we were going to go introduce ourselves to and go sit with, but then it looked like the two young gents above were leaving. It turns out that they were only cashing out because their waitress was leaving, but when I asked them that, they insisted that even though they weren't leaving, shamus and I should have a seat. They were fine. The one was freakishly tall (six foot seven, yo). We got to hear all about Australia. They thought shamus and I were related, which is cute. They were fine, but we were ready to be done with them by the time it was time to go. However, important later, I stupidly say, "Yeah, well, if you don't love Pure, and most people don't once they're actually in, we'll be at Caramel if you want to stop by." I surely did.
And then our people all show up and we all head over to Caramel. I will tell you know that you can see ALL of the pictures from that evening here. There are at least three of them where the caption just reads "This is me showing you how to be classy in a club." Enjoy. I've included some of my favorites below though.
Mindy is our server at Caramel. She loves her own name. She also loves Scottie. See how much Mindy and her pale-face love Scottie? Yep. That's love.
There are some highlights. For the record, those highlights don't include me drinking vodak out of the bottle. It also doesn't include when I porno-ed my ass into the air or tried to hump shamus' shoulder. Highlights would include when Sean did those same things after I did. Ha.
One highlight was the dancing man. He was dancing in the middle of the club, if by "dancing" you meant seductively rubbing up and down against the table. GROSS. There was also the hooker, and outside of the stimulating conversation with Mindy, she was the highlight. She was amazing. First, the guy that this African Queen hooker was with was AN EIGHT FOOT TALL WHITE MAN. Secondly, she had on a hot dress, hot jewelry and FLIP FLOPS. Somehow, she managed to grind with dignity against her trick even in flip flops.
But the best hooker story was the one Mindy told us about our African Queen friend. So, you know, the first thing that happens when you get table service is that somebody takes away the lids to all of the bottles that you bought because you're not supposed to leave with them. Our friend the hooker? Ballsy enough to ASK FOR THE LID TO THE BOTTLE OF PATRON so that she could leave with it. Despite her flip flops and line of work, I had expected more of her.
And there we are, enjoying our evening, when suddenly the Aussies join us. And the first thing out of shamus' mouth to me? "Dude, that guy thinks he's about to get laaaaid." Sure, he probably did. Which is why it suddenly got so awkward. I handled this by drinking more vodak and acting like a fool to deflect.
Oh, whatever. Here are corresponding pictures of Sean and I going ass-up in the club to show you how classy we are. Or perhaps you've already caught this delight on MySpace.
It was a good night. I love my friends.
On Saturday, after I surgically removed Redford from shamus, we went to see Oceans 13, which I loved, but George Clooney on any screen wells feelings of love in me. We were going to just grab some food and head home for napping time, but then shamus decided he wanted to SHOP. By SHOP we mean go to the Forum Shops at Caesar's.
Ask yourself, how much is too much to pay for a jacket made of the leather of baby goats? Once you have a number in your head, email me and I'll tell you how much you'll actually pay for that. For that matter, consider how much is too much to pay for a pair of rhinestone accented sunglasses from Coach. This is the game we played. That jacket is HOT though.
And then we had dinner and went to Fremont Street. AND I HAVE SOMETHING THAT HAS MADE ME SO HAPPY. It's a picture of shamus with a half-yard of liquor on Fremont Street. Like heaven delivered.
I ALSO HAVE A PICTURE OF SHAMUS OUTSIDE OF A STRIP CLUB THAT WAS REALLY PROUD THAT THEY HAD 45 DANCERS ON STAFF THAT NIGHT!!!!
Right? Perfect.
I mean, admittedly we made an error. And that error was half-yards of frozen liquor in 110 degree heat. We did not love how we felt. We loved it even less as we became part of this crowd. And this crowd are homeless folks enjoying the free outdoor concert from the eighties metal cover band. I'm not making that up.
Yep. So we went to the Griffin, had some drinks, shamus and his GAY outfit got introduced to an incredibly sweet boy and I was happy that they got along. And shamus broke the ice with that boy by telling the story about the time McK came to visit me in San Francisco and got human feces all over his leather chaps when we took him to My Place. Ice breaker!
We slept well. In the morning, we were going to go to the Coffee Bean, but instead decided that, on the advice of a gay male escort (I mean, Jesus, can we ever tell a story that doesn't involve the invocation of a gay male escort?), we went instead to Jean-Philippe. I mean, why go two minutes to the Coffee Bean when you can drive to the strip instead and eat French pastry. And eat I did: a brioche, a Napeolean AND a crepe. shamus couldn't really eat anything, but he said the pastry was good. Here are two pictures of our sunny, sunny morning.
That's a cute picture of me, right? Yet I got this text from C-Woo first thing on Monday morning, "I'm so glad to be greeted on Monday with a fresh picture of your ass on MySpace."
I miss him, and his gay ass vintage jeans, and his shopping enabling, and his bonding with Redford, and his bougie, bougie ways already. Tear.
And for the record, the picture below is my favorite of the night. Both because, well, that's shamus and I when we're out -- those faces, that silliness-- and also because Hott Scott is there in the background with that whole "I'm not participating" face. Ha.
So for a couple of days now, I've been trying to put a real journal entry together about my trip home to Pennsylvania to spend time with my mother, the Woodalls and Ferris for his big birthday (age STILL undisclosed)...and, of course, Pookie, Dana and Jai. And the thing is, I haven't been able to do it. There are dozens of stories that are funny to me, and funny to the people there, but they won't be funny to you. You know, because they're the kind of stories that are funny because all of the people involved know all of the history behind them, or are emotionally intimate enough to understand the laughter. So while the trip was amazing and perfect, it wouldn't be funny to anybody but us. But for those of us who participated, let us just take a moment and remember:
- Larry using a Buffalo Wild Wings as a locational reference point to guide me somewhere - "I thought taking a walk to the park would be nice." - "So what if I don't have a cell phone - I WAS THE FIRST ONE TO DINNER." - BIG TIME - "Clyde is here, Ferris. Brokeback it up for your birthday, baby." - Japanese food and the missing server. - Bar Louie and how somebody thought his move was to let that hobag walk in front of him and steal the table that should have rightfully been ours. - BIG TIME - "Did you know that your mother was in Guadalajara?" - MORE BIG TIME - "I'm so glad that cell phones were invented so that, while we're all here spending time together, you all can be texting other people who are NOT here." - "Let's make some MySpace magic tonight." - "Counting every blade of grass, taking a stand, starting a revolution." - FANTASTIC cocktails at the Shady Grove - Making ourselves sick with more food and booze at Gullifty's. I mean, like, SICK. - Larry wishing Ferris a happy birthday by telling him about his sweaty ass - My mom's cooking, including her attempt to lame out on stuffed mushrooms by microwaving them, to which we responded, "That's bullshit. Turn the oven on." - My mom's face when the question "Did you know that your mom is in Guadalajara?" was asked. - BIG TIME and BIG JIM - Snowballing. Don't even bother asking. - Jukeboxes - "Everything is definitely cool."
I love you mom, Pookie, Ferris, Dana, Candy, Larry, Jai. Thank you for such a wonderful set of perfect moments. You can see all of the pictures here, but here are my favorites for reference.
Don't you wish you could rock to ANY music? Even the servers singing at Yokoso?
Dinner. Good Times.
Much like The Jackal, where there is bottled beer, The Unicorn will appear.
Like I'd ever go into the weekend without five thoughts, Candy!
1. Speaking of Candy: Over on her MySpace blog, there's an entry called "Postpartum Stella" where we're talking about Stella-Got-Her-Groove-Back complex. It's pretty interesting, or at least I enjoy Candy calling that behavior out for what it is.
2. So, Uganda. Lis put the final nail in the coffin as far as my going to Uganda by sending me the full itinerary. Sure, the rhinos and gorillas and the Nile river and massive waterfalls got me, but the part of the itinerary that finally sold me on two weeks trekking Africa was the coffee. The itinerary doesn't list all meal times, but it definitely mentions coffee being provided in your quarters each morning. Any trip that takes coffee that seriously is a trip for me. And I almost have Larry convinced to come with us, which would be more awesome. Thanks to everybody who talked me into throwing fiscal responsibility and the reality that my job needs me the most in September to the wind to go see wildlife on another continent instead. That's why I love you all.
3. Completely Off Topic: Something awesome professionally happened this week. I really wish that I could tell you about it. I mean, it was so big that I literally didn't believe it when ToniK told me. I cant' wait to tell you. Can't, can't, can't, can't wait.
4. That said...People, I am SO BORED. Nobody bets on baseball. June is the most boring, boring month. By 3pm I'm going out of my skull bored. By the time I get home, I'm so tired from being bored that I need a nap. Send some email. Reacquaint yourself with text messaging. Do something to entertain me.
5. The last episode of season one of Northern Exposure: Is honestly a really, really good hour of television. I really love that show. It makes me want to move to Alaska and become REALLY eccentric. But only if John Corbett is there working as a morning radio dj and metal artist. Otherwise, I'm fine where I am.
FIVE REASONS TO LOVE RY The day started with all of us arriving at the office, the office in Vegas where it's hot as hell, to discover that, over night, the heat in the building had gotten stuck in the "on" position and the office was 110 degrees.
So the first thing we did was go to 7-11 to get some cold beverages. For Ryan, this meant a Big Gulp of freakin' Mountain Dew AND a Nestle ice cream bar. Not joking.
The second thing we decided to do was work around the conference table since it was much cooler there.
What this means is that I spent the next three hours sitting to already hyper Ryan while he was on a sugar rush. If I had to experience it, you do, too. Read on.
Chapter One: Something About Mac and Cheese
Ry Who are you IMing with?
Me Larry.
Ry I don't know Larry.
Me Yes, you do. We all hung out at the Wynn for my birthday the year before last.
Ry Oh, right the room with 12 gay men. I was a little uncomfortable being the only straight guy.
Me Really? But you know all kinds of gay people.
Ry But there were twelve of them plus me. I like mac and cheese, but I don't want to swim in it.
Chapter Two: Your Mama's On You-Tube
K-Rock Ryan, I saw your mom on You-Tube.
Ry Yeah, well, I saw your mom on You-Tube and she had a lot of favorites.
K-Rock Well, I saw your mom on You-Tube and she had a lot of downloads.
Chapter Three: But Why Do You Love Vegas?
Ry I love Vegas. You always smell like hooker in the morning.
Chapter 4: Stating the Obvious
Me What is wrong with you today? Stop harassing me.
Ry I'll tell you what it is. A big gulp of Mountain Dew and a chocolate bar at nine in the morning.
Chapter Five: Let's Get Trampy on Myspace
Ry
Jocelyn, everyone likes a little slut, as long as she doesn't actually whore herself out.
Me What is wrong with you? Shut up. Just shut up. Don't you have something to do...somewhere?
Ry Like, I want my girlfriend to be a slut with me, but not to whore herself out.
Bonnie No, really. Stop talking.
Me Please. Never again for you with the early morning sugar. NEVER. I will fire you if you do.
This really didn't stop here. I just couldn't keep up with it. You-Tube was invoked several more times. There were some Asian girls dancing to some cholla song that I was forced to stop and watch. Ryan explained relationships to me, based on his current successful three-month encounter. No work of any kind was accomplished.
It was a good day.
21 REASONS TO LOVE FRANKI So I had very bad insomnia last night. When I have bad insomnia, I often play on MySpace. Last night, I couldn't sleep so badly that I was answering MySpace surveys. You don't need the whole list of the 70 questions on this survey to enjoy what Franki does next, you just need a sampling. So here's a sampling. You can pretty much skip over actually reading it and go down to the next part where I talk about Franki.
1. What time did you get up this morning? Maybe, like, 9am. I don't sleep much, so extra hours in the AM help. Welcome to the west coast work day.
2. Diamonds or pearls? Uh, both, because I'm a princess and I deserve them.
4. What is your favorite TV show? What isn't? This week it's "So You Think You Can Dance," but mostly because of the big dude who did swing...And my quest to figure out how a show about professional dancing can be homophobic.
7. What is your middle name? Nissa. It means fairy. That knowledge is my gift to you. Use it as you will.
8. What food do you dislike? Zuchini (won't eat it). Because one time as a kid my dad made me sit at a dinner table for 24 hours because I wouldn't eat this disgusting zuchini and tomato sauce crap. I never recovered.
10. What kind of car do you drive? Saturn. It's sexy. You know it. It smells like a gym locker inside.
15. What color is your bathroom? Purple. It's like Prince got sick and vomited in there and I just kept it.
18. What was your most recent memorable birthday? My last one was good...and then we broke up. I'm going back to the one before with K-Yo and sushi and that crazy Canadian cop who was pretty yummy but way too ready to get married - that night. That's the problem with spending birthdays with boys. You often then have to erase them from your memory. "Oh, yeah, that was the birthday I spent with that jackass where he gave me flowers and was wonderful and then told me not to post any birthday pictures online because his ex girlfriend would get upset." WTF.
23. Favorite saying? Fuck that fucking fucker. Fuck him. Fuck.
24. When is your birthday? February 26th. Pisces all the way through.
28. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with us? No! I'm still not pregnant! Stop asking.
33. What is a day on the calendar you are looking forward to? I'm going to go with June 21st.
35. What was the last thing you ate? A chicken salad sandwich from 7-11 at 10am. That's not right, people.
36. Do you wish on stars? All the time.
38. How is the weather right now? Hot as hell. Welcome to Vegas. The devil likes it warm.
41. Favorite soft drink? Coke Blak, which is more like a drug than a soft drink.
42. Favorite restaurant? Knob Hill, Nobu, Matsuhisu, Nove
48. Hugs or kisses? I just met a new boy - let's go with kisses.
52. What is under your bed? Cat hair. Lots of it.
55. Favorite smell? Fresh flowers. My mom's kitchen. A well-mixed screwdriver.
58. How many keys on your key ring? 23. I have no idea how that happened. I'm like a janitor.
Franki, apparently, was way more bored during the day yesterday than I was during the night yesterday, because he took the time to do this:
I'm gonna totally turn this survey upside down, inside out, back to front and wear it on the wrong leg.
Instead of answering the damn questions, I'm gonna use a random set of Jocelyn's answers, then changing the questions to turn this survey into an innuendo love feast.
This has got to be/MUST BE a myspace first, so whore em up buttercup. Here goes:
WARNING! WARNING! Watch your eyes.
1. When did you brush your teeth today and how long for? Maybe, like, 9am. I don't sleep much, so extra hours in the AM help.
2. A smack on the bottom or a kiss on the ass? Uh, both, because I'm a princess and I deserve them.
4. What's perfect about you and a rhetoric question for yourself? What isn't? This week it's "So You Think You Can Dance,".
7. A Hummer spelt with a P is just a fucker, a Nissan without an N is? Nissa. It means fairy. That knowledge is my gift to you. Use it as you will.
8. What's your favourite bedroom fruit or veg? Zuchini (won't eat it).
10. What's your fav brand of condom? Saturn. It's sexy. You know it. It smells like a gym locker inside.
15. The colour of your bra? Purple. It's like Prince got sick and vomited in there and I just kept it.
18. What was your most recent memorable root? My last one was good...and then we broke up. I'm going back to the one before with K-Yo and sushi and that crazy Canadian cop
23. Best advice you have ever given to your girl? Fuck that fucking fucker. Fuck him. Fuck.
24. A good date to hit the sack and what position? February 26th. Pisces all the way through.
28. You were trying some new method to increase the population, have you succeeded? Does this method make you cranky? No! I'm still not pregnant! Stop asking.
35. Weirdest thing you had while doing the dirty? A chicken salad sandwich from 7-11 at 10am. That's not right, people.
36. Do you pick your nose? All the time.
38. Are you hot and bothered or just sexually frustrated? Hot as hell. Welcome to Vegas. The devil likes it warm.
41. Favorite inhaler of choice? Coke Blak, which is more like a drug than a soft drink.
42. Favorite adult shop(s)? Knob Hill, Nobu, Matsuhisu, Nove
48. Hitsy fits or kisses? I just met a new boy - let's go with kisses.
52. What is in your pants? Cat hair. Lots of it.
55. You smell like? Fresh flowers. My mom's kitchen. A well-mixed screwdriver.
58. How many boys' keys are on your key ring? 23. I have no idea how that happened. I'm like a janitor.
Oh, people. Today and yesterday. Those were fun days.
1. Maria Taylor is a Goddess: 11:11 is one of my favorite albums. It's one of those albums that I've kept coming back to over the last two years. So I was kind of bumming when people who had listened to Lynn Teeter Flower were all like, "Yeah, it's no 11:11." And then I was like, "Well, it could just be that there's not a lot of room for Maria Taylor and Brandi Carlile to exist at that same time, and that Brandi Carlile album is fantastic (though if you really want to hear her at her best, download her live version of "Hallelujah"). Anyway, so I finally downloaded Lynn Teeter Flower this weekend. And it's no 11:11, but it is fantastic. The tracks you won't care about, you'll flip through those pretty quickly. But there are five tracks on there that are so fucking beautiful that you won't know what to do with them. "My Own Fault" is my favorite right now, maybe because it resonates with where I am. "Small Part of Me" and "No Stars" are also, well, they'll move you. However, "Lost Time" and "Clean Getaway" are the single most fucking beautiful things you'll hear this year (though you have to stay with "Clean Getaway", it builds on itself and then it rips your heart out in the last couple of bars). Conveniently, you can listen to those last two on Maria's MySpace page. And also, we'll be doing two poetry meditations this week. The first are the bridge lyrics from "Lost Time."
And a heart that grieves Gets lost in everything And a heart in need Finds hope in anything
2. Speaking of MySpace: I'd like to thank MySpace for reconnecting me with 500 million people I went to high school with. And I'd like to thank Chris for dinner. I was cool with it until you pointed out that we hadn't actually seen each other in 17 years. It was a great time. Let's do it again this week.
3. Here's What's Not Going to Happen: I'm just going to get this out of the way because I know that you read this (with you being a specific person). I'm not going to apologize for hurting your feelings. I didn't say anything maliciously. I was gentle. I'm sorry you're not getting what you want. I'm sorry you hurt. But when you back people into corners saying things like "I need you to feel this way," you're going to get one of two things. a)A lie that will blow up and hurt you worse later or b)the truth, which more times than not will not be what you wanted to hear. I'm not going to get bullied into feeling something that I don't just because it's what you "need." You need less than you think, honestly. That email was mean and nasty and uncalled for, and you're getting a response here instead of via email because I REFUSE to engage in that emotionally manipulative kind of scenario with you. All I did was say "That's not the right decision for me making me happy." Seriously, I can't believe you have the audacity to say you expect an apology. I'm not apologizing for making good decisions for me. WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE? WHY IS EVERYBODY SO FUCKED UP LATELY?
4. Pennsylvania! I have never looked forward to a week at home more than I'm looking forward to this one. Sangria and Sanjaya. Beer and cocktails. Pookie's 30th. Tyler. Maybe spring will even break. And a little more time to play than I was anticipating. Yes. Very exciting. I want coffee with PDG and beer and cocktails with Bill and Sangria with Candy and lots of time with Pook and Ferris and Dana and my mom. And playtime with Red Delicious' kids. And long runs on backroads. And higher end cocktails with moon. And a Pirates game, and mabye a Pens game if I get lucky. I want ridiculous pictures of Joey V. and those other crazy boys. I want tea with Big T. I want to go to my grandfather's grave and talk to him for a while because I've felt a little lost lately. I want to hang out with Doreen and my mom and wonder if that's what Catwoman and I will be like at their age. I want to feel home for a little bit. You don't really feel home when you're there over the holidays because there's so much to do. Yeah, I'm looking forward to this.
5. And, a poetry mediation for the week: I own a book of Anna Akhmatova poetry, and it's some of my favorite ever. In fact, "The Door is Half Open" is one of my favorites of my favorites, and last week it was a featured poem by Knopf, so I thought we'd all start the week with it:
The door is half open, The sweet smell of limes . . . On the table, forgotten, A whip and a glove.
The lamp's yellow glow . . . Things rustle all round. Why did you go? I don't understand.
More clearly I'll see Tomorrow with fresh eyes That life is beautiful. Heart, just be wise.
You're completely worn out-- Beating sluggishly . . . You know, I read somewhere That souls do not die.
But I Have MySpace! The first of the key IM conversations happens with Ferris. You may think we are both smart, articulate people, but we spent an hour on Wednesday IMing about Jennifer Lopez and Sanjaya Malakar. And then this happened.
Ferris What were our parents doing at our age?
Me My mom was pregnant with Pookie when she was my age.
(pause)
Me Yep. Pretty much at my age my mother had babies, and I have ... MySpace.
(And for the record, this exchange is much funnier if you could hear Ferris' response, but I pretty sure it's not approved for posting.)
GO DEVILS. I have a friend (or many, but this is in reference to one specific one). We don't speak all that often, but I adore him. I'm not about to stroke his ego and list the specific things that I adore about him, but to understand what happens next you need to understand that one of the things that I adore about him is the dynamic he provides me with. So the thing about him is that he can push my buttons in .004 seconds flat. Often, he does it entirely unintentionally. Sometimes, he does it to amuse himself. Sometimes, he actually gets me worked up and defensive about things we share the same opinion on. Rarely, but not never, he does it and then stifles a smirk as I go into hyper mode and sound like this: "What are you saying? What are you saying? What are you saying? I can't believe you just said that. But, but, but..." Other people, people who are related to me, people who have dated me, have all commented the following, "Man, he can push your buttons faster than anybody I've ever seen."
And here is the kicker. Many people would describe me as a button pusher myself. But this particular person seems to be impervious to my efforts to get him worked up. I throw things out there to try and prod at him, and it's like I'm throwing a big foam softball that he takes a whack at with a tennis racket and it comes back and hits me in the face and suddenly I'm all like "What are you saying? What are you saying? What are you saying? I can't believe you just said that. But, but, but..." And I have always appreciated about this person that my attempts to push at buttons roll off his shoulders and yet, somehow, he can get a reaction out of me by giving me a sideways look. I appreciate the change up in my daily dynamic.
Until yesterday.
Yesterday, I am eating a burrito and doing my taxes and I look at my Gmail Chat and notice that said person has changed his status indicator to cheer for the New Jersey Devils, in almost direct contrast to my Gmail Chat status indicator that was rallying for the Pens. And yes, yes, this is a discussion of an event that was launched by status indicators in Gmail Chat. And so I change my status indicator to tell him to live in the now with the team of the future, and he changes his to remind me that only one of those two hockey teams "knows how to win championships." And I'm all like, "That's so cute. He felt like playing via Gmail Chat." And I go back to eating my burrito and being horrified at how many line items on my 2006 credit card statements are literally for slurpees from 7-11. And then...
The chat window opens, and paragraphs, PARAGRAPHS, start rolling in about the New Jersey Devils and their apparent superiority over all other NHL teams, EVER. I am so shocked by the deluge of PARAGRAPHS of impassioned Devils adoration that I actually slide my chair back from my desk in physical shock. Holding my burrito in one hand and my 1099 itemized sheet in the other, I occasionally begin to slide my chair back towards the desk to hazard a response, but as soon as I do, there is another PARAGRAPH about how the NHL changed the rules to try to bring the Devils down and the Devils still kept on winning, or about how they're a true team and not a bunch of individuals, or how they have the greatest goalie to ever play the game (Uh, Patrick Waugh, anybody?) ... and more! And it just kept going! The paragraphs came so quickly I couldn't even keep up with reading them. And, I have to say, I know this person to have great passion, but I have never seen him express such deep passion as he did for the New Jersey Devils during this IM exchange.
And for a moment, I am...triumphant! That's right. Three years later, I manage to push a button that causes him to stop in the middle of his work day and set me straight about my misguided hockey beliefs. In my head, as I was carefully sliding my chair back towards my desk, waiting to see what would happen next, I envisioned what this must look like. What joy I would see if I were able to be in two places at once and watch this go down. His furiously fast typing into the tiny Gmail chat box while hunched over the keyboard in the midst of fiery emotion. Red laser beams shooting out from behind very sexy, thin-rimmed intellectual glasses. Quickened breathing. A half-eaten take-out container of nachos abandoned while he ferociously puts me in my place about the special place in hockey hierarchy that the New Jersey Devils have reserved for them.
AND EVEN IF THAT IS NOT HOW IT WAS, YOU WILL LET ME HAVE THIS ONE. YOU HAVE DESTROYED ENOUGH ILLUSIONS FOR ME. LET ME HAVE THIS.
I'm going into the neutral corner for now. Go Sharks.
And, finally, this sexiness
DCWP I'm currently at the Midwest Political Science Association's annual meeting.
Me I can't think of anything that sounds like a sexier gathering than the Midwest Political Science Association's annual meeting. I need to go shower about now just to cool down.
DCWP If i told you the title of my paper was "BRAC ATTACK: The Politics of Military Base Closings" would that make you even hotter?
Me I'm quite sure I wouldn't even be able to handle it. Now go find me a nice academic husband while you're there. Somebody whose paper is on something unbearably sexy like the politics of agricultural subsidies or re-inventing voting laws though a return to town hall meetings.
1. Wrapping Up Melrose Place: Do you suppose that when Darren Star was putting Melrose Place together, there was a part during the writing session where he and the other writers were just like "Okay, now we need to go through the script and find ANY MOMENT POSSIBLE where Grant Show can appear shirtless?"
Not that I'm not thanking them for that.
2. I like American cars: If you check out the comments section on my MySpace page, Ryan has left the most delightful pictures of me fucking up some Toyota property. Good times.
3. Drunku: This weekend, we are speaking in drunku, which if you aren't following, is poetry in seven, five, seven schema. Right on.
4. This weekend: Pool at Mandalay Bay, dinner party and wine tasting and then hitting Grand Prix parties on the strip. And that's Friday. Saturday...more, worse. Apparently party season has hit.
5. And on a calmer note: Here's your poetry meditation for the weekend. From D. Nurkse, a reflection on broken marriages, which has been a hot topic for the last week or so:
Separation at Burnt Island
Brothers and sisters, who live after us, don't be afraid of our loneliness, our dented wiffle ball, the little kerf the dog chewed in the orange frisbee.
Don't grieve for our kite; not the frayed string that clings to your ankle, not the collapsed wing.
We lived on earth, we married, we touched each other with our hands, with our hair that cannot feel but that we felt luxuriously, and with promises.
We made these bike tracks in the sand —don't follow them—and this calcined match head is the last statue of our King.
We lived between Cygnus and Orion, resenting the blurriness of the Pleiades, in a house identical to its neighbors— stepwise windows, ants never to be repelled, TV like a window into the mind that can't stop talking, redwood deck facing the gulf.
Everything was covered with sand: the seams of the white lace dress, the child's hinged cup, the watch (even under the crystal), the legal papers.
We were like you, or tried to be. We divided our treasures (a marble with no inside, a brooch from Siena), signed our names with all our strength, and went home in two directions, while the marriage continued without us in the whirling voice of gulls.
I was not having the single best day ever to begin with.
So I log into MySpace to check my MySpace mail. And I'm scanning through the usual - actual messages that I want to read from people I know, messages from people whom I don't know that are clever enough to catch my interest and messages from people whom I don't know that horrify me in the creepy, creepy, creepy way. Actually, there are messages from people whom I do know that horrify me in the creepy, creepy, creepy way, but that's a different story.
And then I hit a message from my new least favorite person in the world. Anthony. Who is 18 and from Illinois and wants to tell me that...
I'M A MILF.
I swear to God. That's the content of his email. Let's review the ways in which this is horrifying.
1. Being a MILF means that I'M OLD ENOUGH TO BE A MILF. Which I am, which I'll concede begrudgingly. But seriously, I did not need to be reminded BY AN 18 YEAR OLD that I'm technically old enough to be the mother of one of his playmates. Thank you, Anthony.
2. Being a MILF means that I would actually be a mother. I AM NOT A MOTHER AND WE ALL KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT THAT FACT THAT I'M STILL NOT A MOTHER. Again, I didn't need AN 18 YEAR OLD to remind me of this. Thanks a second time, Anthony.
3. In the worst piece of information in this scenario, Anthony's MySpace page features a picture of him that looks EXACTLY LIKE A PICTURE I TOOK OF MY LITTLE BROTHER AT ANTHONY'S AGE, ALSO WITH HIS GUITAR.
So I'd just like to take this moment to thank Anthony for sending me such a flattering, positive MySpace mail. Seriously. I feel better now. Next time, just tell me that you think that I'm hot. Don't make me cry about being 33 and childless at the same time.
Madonna Tribute - Cast of Glee
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