If you were wondering... I know: how to get rid of aphids, pick up spilled wax on hardwood floors, and the many many uses of sticky things....
Can you tell I'm bored and have not heard from clients all day? I am on my third bottle of water.
A gal I would adore...the thought that clinched it..."Which came first, Martha or the gingerbread house? We like the ideas Martha Stewart's producers and the woman herself put forth, We do not, however, approve of the Great Woman You-Shall-Never-Achieve aura that has grown up around Omnimedia. And We are, frankly, a bit creeped out by the word omnimedia."
Useless but Interesting....
The story of Mike, a chicken who lived 18 months with no head. You know you want to know. You do.
But THIS was really fun...I stumped it twice. But if finally got me on Amelie. I think the problem is that I don't know enough TV shows to know the details in the database. Still, TV loving people, it was fun. The program insults you if you win. I think I am going to play it again. Jeez louise. I picked Martha Stewart Living, and it took about 5 minutes for the computer to get it. Okay, work time. Hah.
Thursday, May 30, 2002 Who's the dumbest who's the dumbest? ME ME ME. I woke up really tired. I think that started it. Plus, it's hot.
but that's no excuse. I promised to go to a recital. I promised to watch someone's dog. I promised to go to a BBQ on Sunday. Then I invited friends. 2 nights ago, my brother asked if I would take my dad to his uncle's memorial service. I said maybe. Today, I said yes. It's being held on Sunday.
I then told another friend I wouldn't go see Enigma because I'd seen it 3 times on video. HULLO. I meant memento. Don't put vowels in a one word movie title and expect me to not be confused. I am waiting for Guinness Book Of Records to ask for my picture so I can be permanently displayed as the Dumbest Smart Woman On Earth.
I just disinvited 10 people to a sunday bbq.
Da, buy me lunch on Sundayand make it caffienated.
Wednesday, May 29, 2002 Horrifying story.The Paris Hotel in Las Vegas. This happened according to Gina:
Regina and her mother, mother-in-law, and two children went to Vegas. Gina is moving there soon and is hunting for a place to live. Outside the hotel, there were misters awry and they wetted down the sidewalk with mist. Mother-in-law was holding the baby. She fell. Hard. And saved the baby by curling herself around him. Otherwise, he would have died. She's a hero. Afterwards, she couldn't walk on her ankle, and her knee was full of fluid and she was bleeding. The hotel's response? "Get out of our front area, please. We don't want anyone to see you hurt in front of our hotel."
So, while she floundered around trying to get up again, and Regina was trying to help, and her mom was corralling the baby and the 8 year old, the hotel said they'd give them a "discounted room" and referred them to a local clinic.
Where Regina found out later, and after the fact, that the clinic had a handicap accessible shuttle. So injured mom in law has a fractured ankle, water on the knee, and is facing a drive back to CA.
Regina's trip was delayed a day because she made plans to get her mom in law on a plane back to CA so the drive wouldn't aggravate her condition. The next morning at 8 AM Regina realized she needed help with getting her mom in law to the airport. She requested help from the front desk, the front desk that never had any supervisors or anyone who cared. And the front desk clerk, who is apparently majoring in medical intuition, said "help the lady upstairs? she doesn't have a broken ankle." Regina said yes, she did, and the desk person said "It's not broken." As if mom's in law routinely fell outside on purpose holding babies and faking blood and broken bones. Regina was baffled. She just wanted help getting her into the car, not a diagnosis. "Okay, it's not broken IN HALF. But it's fractured." Desk: "No, it's not even fractured."
Frustration. Are they going to help get a middle aged woman with a broken ankle into a bronco? We will never know. because by this time in the story, I was standing up in my office yelling "SUE THEM SUE THEM FOR EVERYTHING THEY'VE GOT!!!" And that's me, Ms. "I am not litigious".
Poor mom in law!!!! Poor baby!!! I still remember falling backwards in a chair when I was two, and rolling heels over head into the den. And crying. Poor Gina!!! What a pain in the ass, headache, not to mention a bite into the pocketbook UNTIL YOU ACTUALLY SUE THEM. SUE THEM!!!
So, the King's Lost Yesterday and I couldn't care less... Today, Monday, it's my dad's birthday today. My brother made steak, I treated dad to Star Wars, and my sister showed up and got bossy with me at dinner. Unbelievable. We can't even talk to each other. She actually told me to shut up. I'd said "okay, you need to stop now" and she told me to shut up. I love it. Sad, but funny. Good thing she wasn't sitting next to me, she might've tried to hurt me.
My dad made me my great grandpa's favorite drink, gingerale and maker's mark, a highball of the old fashioned variety. A Svede Special. So, I am drinking it in this old antique glass that tilts sideways. It belonged to my great grandfather Axel. He had four, but I think I broke one at one of my stupid house parties when I was a dumb young thing who didn't know the value of anything. Who wouldn't know what's good if it slapped me in the head. We only have 3 now. It makes you think the glass is melting if you stare at it too long. The whole goal, and this is 1920's-30's humor for you, is to make an already drunk person spill their drink faster. Hilarious, daddi-o.
Speaking of the 20's, go see The Cat's Meow. Oddly, my grandpa (son of the funny guy who owned the tilty glasses) told me to see it. I finally did, and it was really great. See it. I loved it, my kinda movie. My kind of a flick. Seen with Ms.Melanie and Ms.Marilyn, who's belly is popping out so much you can almost see her baby's nose poking through. She's not big, though. I'm kind of fascinated by pregnant bellies. They should be rubbed for luck. Ran into an old coworker named James at the restaurant after. He looked too familiar not to say hola to. He was our waiter, cute. I always think the little poor guys are adorable. I will probably never like a lawyer, nor a doctor, nor anyone who could guarantee my financial security. I will have to win the lottery.
So, again, the steak was delicious, and I'm not just saying that. Now I'm just worried about how many times it was repackaged and redated. Sigh.
Spent a couple of days with Erica and Lola (she likes that name, she says no one believes her when she gives it, so I'm using it here.) We hit sunday night trivia. We were the two Smarty Pantses. We did not remember fred schneider's band. Amoeba showed up late and almost punched me for being so dumb. Ask me about the Talking Heads, REM and Patti Smith. Don't ask me about the B52's, I won't remember. So, the inappropriately named Smarty Pantses only got 12 right between the two of us, of course, we were competing with diverse groups of 10 and more...okay, we sucked. We will be back though, rest assured. Breakfasts and shopping were the name of the game this Memorial Day Weekend. I missed every possible parade, didn't hear a lick of Jazz Festival, watched no King's game, and sat by no rivers. Rest assured, I saw my share of crazy fans and patriots, though. Crazy.
The only other thing of import that I have to say is that Allykat bought amazingly cute shoes on Saturday and Kiehl's is my new Favorite Product Of The Month.
Sunday, May 26, 2002
I am having odd dreams. I am notorious for dreaming odd dreams and having them be vivid enough to remember. Once, I had one about a hermit crab in a vaccuum cleaner. And the one about the tapir was this year. This one is weird too. For two nights, I have gone to sleep dreaming/staring at a table set with china and flatware on a white tablecloth, no food. Someone is shouting, I don't look up. I can see their hand pound flat on the tablecloth to emphasize every syllable. I am fascinated by the china and flatware jumping and clattering back at every pound. I hear this person yell "FINE. STAY THERE THEN."
I have no idea what it means.
It COULD be the fact that I don't have to move. Yay! I just have to come up with a hefty deposit to stay. Boo.
I think I will have a dessert and cocktail party to celebrate.
Other points of interest: I am going with some friends from USC to Chandra's memorial service on Tuesday. Very sad stuff, but it will be nice to see nearly everyone again. A lot of my old professors are going and have also emailed me to remind me. I wouldn't miss it, I'm just so glad she's been found.
Friday, May 24, 2002
Today I did very little work. I basically applied at a sports promotion job (because really, they wouldn't hire me anyway) and to become a program director at a tutoring center for kids ages 6-17. I could do that with a hand tied behind my back, so long as the other hand held a paddle. Just kidding.
I mean, this program is woefully underfunded, and for once, it's not my fault. So, I'm gettin' out of Non Profits. I am tired. I've had a lot of disappointments this month. I also found out a coworker who has been here for 20 years wasn't given a party; there is NO WAY I'm stickin' out for even a few more months. Of course, I COULD wait until the funding ran out and they sent me to the unemployment office for 6 months with a fat check for my vacation. I could also try for another grant.
So, I went to the Non Profit Resource Center in the downtown library. They were having a wedding there, the staff was setting up the galleria. Blah blah blah. Anyway, went up to the center. And logged onto their database for foundations and grants. That's where non profits get money, for those who don't know. We get private grants and government money and donations. All I have is a government grant, and it sucks ass. So. I went looking for a sign. I didn't get much, about 20 foundations serving my area of need.
But the funniest was found by Mel. She went with me cuz she runs an underfunded volunteer program (so if you ever want to plant a garden at a school or something one day, call her). She found a foundation with the limitations of funding in the geographic locations of very specifically: South San Francisco, Marin, and West Lothian Scotland.
go figure. We applied heartily.
I know some of you think my fish stories are boring. All fish stories are boring.
But here's the thing...Why won't they stay alive for me? Have I not had enough bad news this month?
And no, it wasn't a suicide. Unless he was on a hunger strike and I didn't notice.
RIP Beta Fish: 5/17/02-5/24/02
~Amelie "He was fine last night, swimmin' around" La Bonne
Thursday, May 23, 2002 E-S-P-A-N-O-L, baby.
I was laughing today because my Spanish teacher (who is 64 and looks like she's in her late 40s) had to go shopping for a bridal shower and for her mom's 92nd bday. I asked to hitch a ride with her home, as I am exhausted, and she said "Sure, but you have to come shopping with me at Macy's". So I did. And afterwards, she turned to me and said, "whatever you do, don't buy stock. Macy's sucks."
I laughed my ass off in her volvo on the way home.
I needed some good laughs. Got a few stories at lunch from a new old pal. Debating on whether they are shareable. I even got a kick out of a website purporting to belong to christopher walken.
Later, my friends and I met and had a little drink. I needed it. Ally needed it. HotRodTammie needed it. We babbled. And then we went for hamburgers and fries. And for some reason, I said "What's the meanest thing you ever did to someone (i.e., stranger)? Mine was that a woman with hair 4 feet long sat in front of me on a hot day during a long lecture in a big crowded lecture hall. Not only had I hiked from one ridiculously long class to another in 90 degree weather, but my legs were all damp and sticky from the humidity. And my shorts stuck to the back of my thighs uncomfortably. But I wasn't alone, everyone was really hot. I swear the AC was broken that day, everywhere. So, Long Haired Girl sat in front of me. And her hair wasn't piled tidily upon her head like a nice long haired girl; no, she kept lifting, playing out, and dropping her coarse, thick, damp locks on my bare sweaty legs. And her icky hair kept sticking to me unpleasantly. And I was getting vomitty, her hair on me, picking it off and trying desperately to move my legs out of the way of the falling hair cascade. And I asked her to stop. She shot me a glare of a look, and kept doing it. As if I mattered. The two guys sitting next to me were also getting hit by uncommonly thick long brown hair, and looking pissed. Normally, her hair is the kind that I'd get a pang of jealousy over. But that day, I was mad. And tired and cranky. Don't mess with me. No, I didn't cut it. I stapled it to the back of the seat just before we were released from class. I mean, stapled it. My boy neighbors high fived me when we heard her screaming, standing and bending over and trying to pick up her books at the same time...
Ally confided that a particular sitar-playing hippy used to annoy her in High School. She and her partner in crime Ms. Moe decided to post hand drawn signs up so this particular hippy wouldn't play during their lunch break in the quad. The sign said "No Sitar Playing Hippies Allowed". The boy, who could only play one song, never came back.
Tammie is just mean. Watch out. She drove a bartender crazy and stole said bartender's sweater. She also had her sister beat up in a shower for being a meanie of a sister to Tam. That's pretty mean. She wins. But I think I'm a close second. Ally, you are a tender hearted soul. I couldn't bear it if someone stapled your hair. I'll get HotRodTammie to beat 'em up.
KGO just announced it.
Now we know.
"The remains found earlier today are in fact Chandra Levy," Ramsey said. The remains were discovered in Washington's Rock Creek Park by a man walking his dog. "He was searching for turtles," Ramsey said.
You know you have gorgeous friends when they all send love, kisses, good thoughts, and one of them leaves her baby at home with its grandma to sit at Farmer's market eating from the 4 food groups: cherries, kettle corn, teriyaki chicken, and caffeine.
I feel a little better. The mean lady at work who has been bugging me about my monthly report gave me a really nice hug when I had a little crying breakdown. I haven't cried since last May when she became the Gone Girl and Big News. My boss said I could go home, but I can't go home. I mean, This possibility is such mixed news...
Just found out they will know by tonight if it's her. The Smithsonian has an expert anthropologist there, and they are running a dental screen now. We will know soon. So weird. So chilling. They are not saying whether the skull is intact. But believe me, if she was running, she could have outrun 90% of all people.
My friend has not called again me to confirm that they found her ring; our favorite professor in DC called me about it twice. It's an inscribed ring, so someone who knew her would have taken it. I have been reading this site a lot again. Most of them live around the park where the remains were found, so it's a way to keep up on the minute to minute. In case you were interested in just how obsessed I have been during the past year. God, I hope it's her. I wonder if it's bad luck to hope that.
They found chandra. I'm so weirdly glad and sad at the same time.
I almost feel like celebrating, if that makes any sense whatsoever. Finally!
Now they just have to figure out who, how and why they did it.
They're saying they found her ring. This time, I really feel like it's her...poor girl.
Goddamn it How is it possible that my brand new beta fish is a suicidal jumper too?
How many fish have to die before I learn to STOP BUYING THEM???
Luckily, I heard him drop (hardwood) and flop. And got him back in before the the blue fins dried crustily to my floor and the body was chomped on by a cruising giant black or grey feline.
I have to hand it to him, though. He is 20 times smaller than Tough ever was, yet can jump further. Of course, Tough was brain damaged...
1) Tough's ghost is haunting him and driving him insane
2) The tank has something nasty in it that I didn't manage to clean out when I plopped him in and whatever it is, it causes maniacal jumping action to escape it
3) I make fish mad enough to risk death in their homicidal attempts at me
4) There are no protective spirits surrounding fish
Oh yes, worried people, I do have a toilet. It is still sitting on my front porch. I am feeling very ozarkian, with my toilet sitting on my porch. We have one toilet left indoors as well. My roommate has her own bathroom. I have been using it when it's free. Still, it's the PRINCIPLE of the thing. It's the principle. I mean, I was told a max of "two days of inconvenience, PROMISE". I need to get these things in writing. Never ever ever trust your landlord ever. Even if he was ever nice. Even if he never bothered you before. And never trust him ever especially if he picks an idiot to fix the house up. And don't EVER trust them if they are intending to sell your house out from under you.
Not to mention, today, hobbling into my very cold and very non existent bathroom with bleary 5AM eyes, I cracked my baby toe on a big electric drill that was huddled in a pile of big, electric, very dangerous, very litigation inspiring tools near the end of my bed. Cleverly placed, as I was too tired to notice them the last two nights I fell into bed exhausted. They were half hidden by a polyester dropcloth. I figure, if my Evil Landlord and his Dastardly Minion keep this up, I will end up owning the house myself. I am already taking pictures of the mess. What a pain in my ass. And toe, mind you.
~amelie la patient yet vengeful who is drinking tea and trying to be calm
Monday, May 20, 2002
I have decided my landlord is from hell. And his handyman is really his evil minion, the dastardly Toilet Stealer Demon.
Why else would I be cursed with no toilet? No floor? No porch? Windows painted OPEN during a (tornado) storm? And to top it all off, he took the window completely out of my bedroom. Who does that to a nice gal like me? It's damn cold in my big house that I will probably have to move out of, DAMN cold.
My friend, who does not wish to be named in my very public blog, says it's because I suck and have put REAL PEOPLE'S NAMES on my site. Hmm...
But if nobody really knows who I am, why does it matter? silly girl, loves blog. I can feign silliness and chalk it up to being blonde. Blahblahblog. i could say I'm really Kevin Fanning/Katie....(thanks for finding, "ally")
My dog is home and all is right with the world. Not only that, but my brother gave him a bath so he is not covered with mud from my mom's house.
"Darrin" thinks there should be a mealtime called "Breakboredom". I think the English own that, It's called "tea". And the rest of us have Happy Hour.
XO-Amelie of the tired head full of cold rainy bone chilling and allergies from mold who finished her take home spanish test instead of going out to dinner with "jane".
We are on tornado watch. I love that. I love rain and hail. Love It. Sacramento. I hope it takes out my landlord's house, since he has completely screwed up mine. 2 days of hellish invasion has become a week. Why, just the other day I came home to more irritation that I won't go in to because you'll just think I whine.
So I am concentrating on happy things like pouring rain, which I love and would love more if the gutters didn't flood. Ah well, sweet with the bitter.
On another happy note, I realized today on my office candy hunt that I like Coffee Nips. They are yummy little caramel coffee flavored candies, and very under-represented in most candy dishes in my agency now that I have cleaned out the jars on the two desks that had them...Someone still has candy corn. Sick.
Okay...a funny fight story. Since I am collecting these sorts of things on this rainy day.
Tammie got into a shocking fight this weekend.
She received a little gift certificate for a manicure in the mall (at someplace called Profesionail~how bad is that??) and she just got her little pedicure.
When it came time to pay, the guy who did her nails took the gift certificate over to the owner, who came and screamed at her in broken english and accused her of trying to cheat the store somehow. Tammie said "Sorry, but it's paid for. The guy who just did my nails sold my friend the gift certificate." The woman said she wouldn't honor it. Tammie said "according to Calfornia law, you have to, even if ownership changed. Plus, you have to post a change in ownership. Sorry you have a problem with this..." and whatnot. Tammie plopped it on the counter and walked out....
....Only to be dragged back in by the neck when the woman grabbed her collar and pulled her back into the store. Tammie turned around and slugged her, luckily she'd only had a pedicure.
funnier fun...as the rain bounces up and into the cracks in my windows...
My pal Ben finally explained Four Square, it's all the rage in NY state, and he (silliest of sillies) started it. Four Square is that game you played when you were 8 with the big red rubber ball and 3 other kids. Add 200 college students and tubs of gallo wine and bbq, and you have some idea of what he has created. What a legacy! It's all about Four Square. And I am wondering why all I ever played in college was sloshball?....
Sunday, May 19, 2002 Stars Wars, Rainy Day and Herpetology
You know what happened today? I went to Petsmart and Capitol Aquarium. I did not go shooting guns like I had been planning. This is due to rain. Rain happened. And not just any rain, flood plain rain happened.
Sigh. So we went to see a movie. And not just any movie. We went to Star Wars. And were not impressed by Lil' Orphan Ani. But we loved the action scenes; there are lovely monsters. And Yoda gets to fight (although I miss his grover voice. It's not the same at all. it's like me impersonating bart simpson or cartman, it's similar but you wouldn't be impressed.) We were critical of the haircut decision making, and of the whininess (though I likened it to luke in the original 1977 film). I am not a huge fan, but I grew up with one. My dad is going to be pissed that I went without him. Sorry da, but I already saw Spiderman. I'll take you to The Hulk in Summer '03 to make up for my naughtiness. There was a screaming baby, though. I got mad and told them to give me my money back if the very expensive theater that allowed parents who didn't want to miss the movie let their tired hungry babies ruin it for the rest of us. Screw that. Next time, I'm taking my non-matinee ticket to see a movie late at night.
So. Capitol Aquarium is my favorite place to go in Sacramento when it is hot or rainy out. I like the koi and the newts. I used to love this giant oscar they had named Moby Dick who lived in a tank proportionately the size of a beta's bowl. I was so sad to see that he had passed on. Erica was disappointed that the giant catfish in the bathtub was also MIA, as I had talked it up highly (I used to be daring and poke it a bit, even though there were warning signs all around saying "fish bites" and "Has Spikes That Impale Flesh" and stuff like that.) Catfish was dead too, I'm afraid. And my other favorites, the Suriname Toads? Also gone. They were cool, they were covered in holes like some sort of weird sedimentary rock, but really, they gave birth to their baby frogs from those holes. And I quote: " The male then fertilizes them and distributes them over the back of the female. Gradually the back of the female forms pockets, one for each egg, so that her back looks somewhat like a honeycomb. In 12 to 20 weeks the young toads break the membranes covering the pockets and emerge into the world." I am looking for a picture on the web now. I am finding out they are genus Pipa pipa, but can't find a good picture...still looking...Wow! found someone with more time to screw around than ME!...I found out that toads are really just frogs that like to spend more time on land...unbelievably, this is the best picture I could find. Sad, as it's such a funky frog. And the babies hatching look insanely painful, like cysts bursting. Found out it was tongueless, though. Found out there are a group of frogs called gastric breeders which do something almost as ickily fascinating than the suriname toad when it comes to breeding...it swallows the eggs, and regurgitates the babies when they are developed. No, I have no idea. Go look it up yourself. No, I have no idea why I like frogs. Don't even get me started on turtles.
Oh, and I bought a blue beta fish. Needs a name and is swimming in Tough's old tank. He's a big boy. I found out I can keep males and females together. I think I will buy a bunch of girls, because, as Erica says, "They look like candy".
Saturday, May 18, 2002
If wishes were kittens...Please God, don't let them grow up to be like Todd the Mutilated BaldThing on my Porch (who thinks I am his mommy...)
Spent the day at the track. Bay Meadows. Won $19, which was kind of cool because I only bet $6, so I bought a hotdog and a beer and I guess the other went to my entry. I have never been to the race track. Well, maybe as little kid, but not to go and "bet". It was fun.
And I decided to collect wacky cop encounter stories. I mean, I've heard the "I got pulled over" stories. But here's the craziness that Joey told us walking through a parking lot tonight after Rob's Bday dinner in Redwood City ~paraphrased~:
"So I'm standing at the bus stop, watching this old woman walking her dog across the street. A little dog. And she is in the street, and a cop car hits her. I mean, clips her good, on the hip. She flails. It's awful. I am standing there, and this woman is on the ground in front of a cop car. The cop gets out, and another cop car peels up breaking and cutting off traffic like it was a drug sting. I don't even know how or why the other cop is there. The woman is on the ground looking completely freaked out and is rubbing her head and her neck. She fell hard. The first cop rushes up to her and asks pointedly, 'Are you okay?' She doesn't answer, she blinks and rubs her head some more. The cop stands over her and says 'Were you trying to catch that bus???' The woman looks at him and sort of nods in a confused way. The cop says to her gently with his hand held out to help her up, 'Well, you better hurry up then, because it's about to leave.' "
!!! Of course, a few of us questioned the ability of even a small dog to ride the bus, we thought it was weird that she would even be TRYING for the bus with a dog, but Joey just pointed out how indicative of the cop's complete negligence. I mean, she wasn't getting the bus. She was crossing the street. He was being suave and trying to avoid a city lawsuit. Joey was appalled. He don't like cops. We all have our own reasons to not like 'em, and as he said very astutely, "It's yet another reason for me to avoid them completely."
So, what's your story?
Send it to firstname.lastname@example.org for my collection.
I am compelled to tell you that Sex With Strangers was fabulous. It's hilarious and devastatingly so. I was riveted in horror and laughing hysterically at the people (who are all very sincere people) and at the same time blown away at how brave they all were (I mean, non pornstars having orgiastic sex in front of camera crews? Jeez louise!). There is one particular scene that is quite interesting and, ahem, riveting. But you need to know, it's about swingers. Very Open Swingers. You cannot judge them by what you would do, as hey, you're the voyeur on this one. I liked it. I am weird.
So, with that said, the director is amazing (his brother couldn't make it, but I'm sure he is equally amazing), and answered questions about the couples and the filming process after the screening. It was a revealing conversation; there were rumors that this was a planned film/scripted, there were also questions about one of the subjects; the subject is so horrible, I mean VOMITOUS, Alisha and I have dubbed him "Man Most Likely To Be Run Over By A Saffron Colored Volvo. Twice." if we see him, and so long as Alisha is driving. I don't think my civic will do enough damage. Also, standing around talking with the director made me realize I had been completely surrounded by idiots in the nosebleed section, people who didn't get that, after all was said and done, this was a documentary. The director was not amused. I loved everything about this guy, the director, by the way, what decorum in the face of idiocy and penis jokes. I couldn't've kept a straight face. I'd've pointed and shouted "YOU! OUT. NOW." like my grandma used to do when I said something bewilderingly stupid.
In addition, he let us know that he and his brother (the makers of Taxi Cab Confessions) are self-distributing the film. So go see it, as that is a really difficult and stressful thing to do. Plus, it's a good flick; candid and real and sick and twisted and funny and sexy and sad. And it's only around Sacto. for one more week.
Has anyone seen Star Wars: clone war/love story yet? I think I will try to take my dad next week.
Friday, May 17, 2002
So, Mapquest got me completely lost. I missed the most important part of my training at the Fred Pryor Executive Management Training Institute (I'm paraphrasing, I can't remember the damn pretentious name) where I would have learned, ironically, all about Prioritizing and Time Management. All I know is...San Jose business parks are my interpretation of Hell. And the Hyatt Rickey's (who names their hotel that?) doesn't know where it is. Honestly. The woman kept putting me on hold and then sent me to a dead end cul de sac while I was STILL ON THE PHONE WITH HER. She also had me get on the freeway and overshot my exit by about 5 miles. While I was hanging on her every word, dangerously, worriedly, in traffic.
Not only did I get lost, miss the first 2 hours of the training (after leaving a full hour early in order to MAKE the training, calculating for traffic, wrong turns, etc.) but I ended up at a bird sanctuary. And then my boss hunted me down to tell me (as I am stuck in the middle of nowhere somewhere south of East Palo Alto), that my message phone is full and I need to take an urgent call. So, I listen to my new (long) messages, as I am watching tourists take pictures of birds, and decide I will probably spend Monday out at the jail out near Galt for a client, tapping into my hidden time management skills (and my rarely used scheduling book) and decided I also have Priorities.
And they include shoe shopping. I called fred pryor, made my complaints, got my new class scheduled, helped a tourist take a picture with something that looked like a chickadee, and turned around. Finding the hotel on the OTHER side of the freeway (like I would know that El Camino Real is on the western side of the 101, even though I asked 4 times for clarification from Ms. Hyatt Worker who made Audible Sighing Noises as I drove "right" into a cul de sac). I stopped in, got the reading materials, talked briefly to the teacher at the break to apologize, and she said she'd see me in November. I left, laughing, as I will not have a JOB in November much less interest in Time Management Skills....and with red shoes on my mind, I left humming a little song. So, I found my way to University Ave., bought a really good bagel, did my Spanish homework, sat in the sun reading the spring issue of Bust, and called my friend Chie again to see if she wanted to skip out of her work and eat lunch. She did. And some shopping.
Bliss. 2 pairs of red shoes, some kiehl's samples, manicotti that I keep forgetting is still in my car, and now I'm home.
Did you know you can get home from San Jose in 2 hours during traffic if you take the 580 through Livermore? Why did no one clue me in to this secret passage with the mesmerizing windmills?
tomorrow: Race Track. I have $20 to bet away on some lucky horse's feet.
sunday: shooting range. Where I will probably end up shooting my own foot. But at least hopefully I'll have won enough money to pay for the stitches.
There is a site that makes me FREAKISHLY happy. I make my own little play toys, whipping my mouse around, spinning them, banging them against the walls, tearing off legs, pasting them back on...getting them to go faster, float, bounce.
Fun. Play. I always think about it when I am bored, as I was deprived for quite awhile, and now it is up and running again. Enjoy! of course, if I play too long, mine all end up moving like a daddy-long-legs agitated in a web...
Wednesday, May 15, 2002
Today I am teaching Erica how to cook. Should be interesting. All Recipes is not such a bad site.
We are going shopping for pots and pans. I love this errands-running stuff. First I must drink some yummy tangerine juice with Melanie.
Oh, and Tammie told me it was an oi band called Pressure Point playing last night at the Capitol Garage. I have never seen them Now I don't even want to. I still don't know why I was harrassed. It must have been a lame pick up attempt. I need to be more snippy and less bewildered when these things happen.
Tuesday, May 14, 2002
Apparently I have insulted people with my journaling. Well, just so you know, I think I am having karma problems. Tonight, I have been called a "communist who should be bombed" and that I "Suck" today outside capitol garage. I was amazed anyone even talked to me, no one ever looks at me when I am walking my dog. I WAS walking a giant borzoi (russian wolfhound, but who knows that? I mean, really?) named Dot at the time this was said. I WAS wearing a big faded red shirt that had a faded hammer and sickle with CCCP on the front. So I guess I sort of asked for it. But really. It's a shirt, not an identity. Grow up. Maybe it should be called Capitalist Garage Baby Wannabes with Terrible Pick Up Lines. Mean people. In addition, I was told "nice shirt, matches your dog" and other incomprehensibly stupid things as I was out and about tonight with a big giant dog. I have worn it before, no problem. It's karma. I'm cursed.
I came home and changed. And found out it was my brother's shirt.
That's what I get for wearing my brother's pyjamas out on the town.
I thought about it, and I concluded that today was a big karmic $@%& YOU from the wiccans. Who I love, but have made mad. Sorry.
It's just ongoing from the horrible day...dead favorite client, no toilet/floor/porch, forgotten test, twisted ankle, headaches...
Je regret completement. Take the curse off. Now. I have to drive my car tomorrow.
A fitting end...El fin perfecto
My day is just getting worse and worse. I went to Spanish, only to realize I left class last week without our take home test, due today. I came home, to find the toilet from my bathroom sitting in a washtub. Next to my bed. ugh. Who does that?
They are tearing my linoleum up. but not all at once, of course. Not FINISHED. They are barely STARTED. There is a hole in my wall. There is a suspicious hole in the floor where the commode used to sit. My windows are still blocked off with boards instead of glass. I have no back porch whatsoever, it is torn up and if you step out the kitchen door, you die, horribly, impaled by air conditioning units 2 floors below.
This is the shittiest day I've had in a long, long time.
And then I checked my mail.
THANK YOU MOE, for (one of) the new Tom Waits albums, Alice. I got it, it's GREAT. I love you to death, you saved me from my impending depression. It inspired me to drag my toilet out of my room and onto the front porch, where it belongs.
I am unstoppering my wine, settling in with a non espanol related book, and eating leftover pasta from last night thanks to Henry, the Brother STILL With No Money and No Regular Job, who can cook like a pro...even poor, he's a mensch. Maybe my shitty day just got better?
I am feeling very shaky and disturbed right now. I came out of a planning meeting for an agency retreat (we refuse to let the administration run our retreats, they always do the most ridiculously boring hellish things), and into my office where my phone has been ringing off the hook.
One of my favorite clients, a guy who has spent a long time coming to grips with his HIV status, a guy who is 38, 6'3" tall, very honest, and who is fighting for his rights to be clean and sober in a rehab, a Black man with 6 kids, an ex-dealer trying to make his life better and clean up his messes...he died of a shotgun blast to the chest on Sunday night in Kaiser's ER. I refuse to read papers, so I didn't know.
It happened at his mom's house. He tried to break up a fight between his sister and her husband. I was working on trying to keep his probation officer from filing a warrant for his arrest because he had been discharged from the rehab before his 90 days were over; he got kicked out of a rehab for fraternizing with the other clients (I didn't think it was true). That was Friday. I had him sitting in a chair in my office on Friday, and was annoyed because I stayed late. Sunday, he was dead. You know how people talk about the dead, especially when they are young, saying "he had so much promise"? This guy actually did. I even think I had a handle on his probation officer, who was a total bastard. Now, I have to track down his secret girlfriend. and tell her.
Monday, May 13, 2002
This sounds awful. I want to learn how to shoot a gun. I know it is more complicated then "pull trigger, dummy". Khym said she'd teach me, she didn't. Everyone lies. I have held a gun before, and it was awfully heavy. A little scary, as it should be I imagine. Darren said he'd teach me (but he didn't) and Regina said she'd teach me (but she can't even figure out the lock on her gun) and now I may have a new teacher lined up. I think it would take some time to get used to the thing, shooting a gun that is.
It's not because I'm violent, by any means (although we all know there is something exciting about guns, I mean, come on). And I never think I want to own a gun. But come on. If you know me, you know I can probably throw you. And hurt you badly if you tried anything without asking nicely first. Plus, I would go for eyes. And you would be seriously blind forever. And you would look disgusting with gouged out eyes.
But if you held a gun on me, I'd have to stop fighting, wouldn't I? I would have to be very still and wait for you to put your gun down to do something awful. And then, if I knew how to handle a few types of guns, I could try to grab it and kill you before you hurt me. If you know me well, you know I have had friends disappear from the face of the earth. Just vanish. FBI style cases. I don't want to be a case like that if I can help it. You know what I mean. I'm not looking for problems. I am interested in safety. I am not interested in shooting feet. Though that is kind of funny...
I think a lot of women freeze up. Helen Grieco once told me she would teach me how to handle guns for a "sliding fee scale". She is the one who convinced me I needed to know how to handle a gun. She's right. I like her, I think she's amazing, but I cannot afford her. I no can pay hundreds of dollars for that kind of tutelage. I will learn from my beautifully miscreant friends, who like to shoot cans.
Mom Day For some bizarre reason, she wanted to go to Berkeley's sprawling fish grotto, under the freeway. My wicked little sister drove her obnoxious green VW very fast when she shouldn't and very slowly when she should. This caused me to have car sickness. Luckily, my brother was next to me and he was a nice shoulder to greenly lean on. I hate being in the back seat. Plus it did not help that I was a little hungover from Saturday. Mom didn't notice, she was passed out in the front seat. She always falls asleep in the car.
My sister and I did not talk at all on the way there. We stopped in Cody's books and stood next to each other not talking. We went to all the chain stores and stood around not talking. It was awkward. Maybe I shouldn't have written that email telling her how much I can't stand her?? Nah. She needs to know that she is annoying, otherwise, how will she change? How self indulgent am I? How rhetorical is that?
But it got better. I told the story about Rose and Melissa over iced tea and calamari in the bar. She told an equally horrifying story. And then another, about her Most Embarrassing Day at Macy's where they measured her bosom, (I think cleverly disguised as "embarrassing" when really she was dramatically bragging about her increased bosom size). We all congratulated her and toasted her new Cs. I am still wondering if she is not self deluded. My mom chimed in (because she's had the same ones for years, and therefore couldn't contribute to the breast discussion) with the fact that there are something like 25 women who delivered their babies in the maternity ward where she works "Isn't that a nice mother's day present?" she asked us. We all sat quietly thinking the last thing we want to do Friday or Saturday night is push out a bowling ball over many extended and painful hours, and then call the result a "present". Maybe a trial, maybe torture, but not a present. My brother stayed out of all things breastish, sad, or birth. He ate his oysters like a good boy. In any case, my sister and I got along. I even watched her back as she got the bar tab (iced tea and calamari and oysters and shrimp cocktails came to $88, don't eat there) due to the fact that they charged us extra for the burgers and salads another table was having, and my sis, being a rich little lawyer, didn't see it before she started to sign. I am a good girl. Mom was cute. She likes working and bubbled over with how much it agrees with her, after I don't know how many years of being home taking care of kids and pets. She actually busted out with "People LOVE me at work." See, that's because she has a nice job. She gets to teach people how to not drop their new babies and how to change diapers. People hate my sister, she is a divorce attorney. People hate me, I tell them they are wrong in their decision making priorities. Mom stayed cute. She spilled cioppino down the table after she said "look, no mess" (meaning, she managed not to mess up her clothes in any way during the meal, and then proceeded to transfer her leftovers, making a mess). My adorable dada couldn't make mom day. He decided that sick people were more important than driving out of town on a whim. He tried to get us to eat at the hospital where he was working last night. We said no. Meatloaf and jello do not a mom day make.
My brother didn't bring any money, so my sister and I split the bill. Please god, will you give Henry a job?
In the car back, we had a nice little conversation. Really.
So, I'm glad I wrote the note saying "you are obnoxiously self centered and oblivious to the world around you. Plus, you suck at driving." Because obviously it has opened a new space for us to work from.
Saturday, May 11, 2002
This should be a mellow night. A blissful night. A night where my friends come over and we all go out.
But the only people who keep knocking and coming over are my neighbor and her daughter. My neighbor Rose who owns Todd the cat, but has left me to deal with him. I like Rose, for the most part, although she uses crank on occasion and her boyfriend Jesse is a serious alcoholic who likes to vomit and crush beer cans outside my open window. I know he thinks no one can hear him. Whatever. Katie sat in my house watching Better Off Dead for an hour this afternoon while her mom Rose called the police on her oldest sister's friends.
I do like Rose, though. She tries. She has multiple children, Katie, the youngest, being my favorite. Katie is tawny, bold, and muscular like any tomboy, with big brown eyes. Her other two daughters are rounder (though Christina looks like an angel with long brown hair and big blue eyes. She recently hit puberty and her mom had to ship her to her father's house because the local gangster boys frighteningly wanted to 'run a train' on her.~~~as an aside, I am terribly confused as to why the parents of Christina didn't consider the criminality of such a horrible thing, and didn't end up dealing with it at the level of the local crime unit that I know is assigned to my neighborhood, instead, shipping her off to live with her father, a man I have had to on multiple occasions call the police on for his violent attacks on the house next door).
And then there is Melissa. Melissa of the Obvious Eating Disorder, pancake make-up, bloated drug rinsed eyes, and earsplittingly loud potty mouth that sends messages from her living room out into space. Melissa, whose mother informed me last month has been stealing from mail boxes in the neighborhood and now has many DVD players in her possession, though these cannot be turned in according to the police (according to mom) because there are no receipts. Melissa, who has held orgies in her mother's house, causing endless turmoil, woe, and domestic violence. She is a conundrum, this Ms. Melissa. Always kind and gracious to your face, yet I am scared of her boyfriends who sit outside in the alley and watch me walk from my car to my door. I am scared of her. Today, her mom came to borrow my phone and call the police. Melissa, of the Broken Vase that was Thrown At Rose's Face. Melissa of the Ankle Bracelet that can't be turned on because she ran the phone bill up next door and Rose can't afford to turn it back on.
Rose spent 45 minutes crying in my living room while a friend told me that his neighbors were having unbothersome loudish sex. Rose asked me what to do because I am a social worker (technically, no, I'm not, but everyone thinks that I am because I do social work) she stared into my 30 year old eyes with her 35 year old dripping large drugged pupils. I have no answers for her. Her daughter is why I am not a single mom. Her daughter is why I am waiting, forever if necessary. I suggested she get an alarm for her house (Melissa breaks in to have sex with boyfriends in the daytime, causing Rose to lose job after job in her quest to save her other latchkey daughters from a similar fate). Rose explained that Melissa has anger and Rose has guilt. I referred her quickly to the free counseling offered by the local catholic mental health program. She doesn't understand that she needs to talk to a counselor, not a social worker. I do referrals, dammit. And advocacy, not counseling. People's mental health problems make me mad because there are actually people they COULD go to, but they come to me. I am not a psychologist. I get cranky when people ask me "why this/me/now?" when they should simply ask me how to find people to help them.
She smells like cheap bourbon and tears. It is making me feel very hopeless for her. She borrowed my phone to call the police again, but they won't come out unless her daughter is "abusive". I said, define abuse. She said "Jerry Springer". Little does she know how Springer-ish and Ozarkian it all seems to me. I know people think I live in the ghetto, but what is a ghetto? A neighborhood.
I walked her to the door and gave her a hug and told her "I hope you have a better day tomorrow. It's Mother's Day, you know."
She sent Katie back with a mirror she had covered in ribbon to thank me for my kindness. It is on my fridge. I'm a little sad now. Melissa means "honey bee", Christina means "christian woman", and Katherine means "pure", all from a weeping woman named Rose.
Today, no headache. None whatsoever. The sky is blue. The clouds are lofted and high. The breeze is buzzing in the camphor trees outside my house.
My house. Ugh. It is closing next Saturday. One more week before I know "do I move? do I stay?" as that is about the time when I will be given notice of rental increases or requests to move out. Ugh.
Moving is pretty much the reason why I do not live in Portland, Oregon. I dread the drive, but especially, the packing. And unpacking.
And therefore, not only have I not moved to Oregon, I haven't even attempted to move from my sturdy, happy, window-filled, second-story home for 3 1/2 years. In fact, the last move I made was from the downstairs one bedroom basement apartment to the upstairs flat. That's it. 14 steps.
The biggest impediment to moving is pets. I have 4. Three of whom are over 20#. Making it difficult to get into a new place. Making it difficult to explain why a schnauzer mix and cats could be so large framed and big. Actually, it's vitamins. But no one believes me. So I stopped explaining.
Friday, May 10, 2002
Jeremy is full of woe and all I want to do is send comfort. Alisha is sick and needs tea and sympathy. Jamie is stressed out in Austin and trying to finish her thesis and get back to her mommy in the hospital here in California, she needs good thoughts sent to TexASS. LaFaya is a little mad because I haven't seen her new baby yet, she needs homemade butter cookies stuffed with jelly (she REALLY needs them). Jenny is sad because her dear granny passed away and all I want to do is send her hugs and kisses. Jane is mad because I haven't had dinner with her in ages and we need to talk, we haven't talked in ages. Dre is upset that I don't call, I need to call. Amoeba is melancholy (as per her usual) and needs to see a smile. Todd is probably dying somewhere in Oregon, he needs emails to cheer him up. Miguel is pissed that I haven't helped him with his PAWS project, and is ignoring me. Erica is still missing her dog Dash, who got lost in Winters about 4 weeks ago but is still infrequently sighted by residents who expect $300 every time they call; she needs someone to go and look for him with her. Regina is missing her husband who is across the country, she needs a break from her loneliness. My mom is giving me guilt for not getting along with my wicked little sister. I need to make more of an effort. And I need to remember to send my nana a momday card, I miss her terribly.
And you know what? I realized why I have a headache. It's been a stressful week. For everyone.
It Is Friday. Good.
sending love and kind, happy thoughts
(from the left side, the right side hurts, as now I am wondering if the thoughts will be logical, formulaic and mathematical),
"Ugh. my head is hurting. I have had a headache every morning this week. I have a brain tumor."
"Yeah. You probably do."
If something is wrong with me, I think it is the most outlandish thing ever. And then when it is not that outlandish thing, I am happy. Once, I thought I had contracted malaria. I was bemoaning my life "HOW can this BE??? I've NEVER even BEEN to Africa..." But it was just a mosquito bite. And the flu.
but I am still the only person I know who has caught dysentery. Though a friend managed to one-up me with ground-zero style leukemia. I am still the only person who has caught on fire dunking their tea in hot water. Explain that one, MacGuyver. And I actually fell 3 stories from a ski lift. I don't ski anymore, that was the first and last time. But I didn't get hurt. And while reminiscing about that last night with Tammie and Melanie laughing their asses off (as I am an animated story teller), I remembered the time I cut my thumb off (nearly) on a toilet. Broken toilet tank lids are sharp. Do not pick them up with bare hands. And do not try to eat burritos with plastic utensils afterwards, you will make people greenly sick when the blood pools on the table and oblivious to the gore, you are just mad because the spork keeps slipping out of your hand.
But I don't THINK these odd things will happen. No. I am much more content with thinking I have brain tumors and malaria.
Thursday, May 09, 2002 The boy Erica should marry. Quickly.
This boy was briefly a subject in my series of many crushes on brown haired boys, when I was aged 18-21. Sigh. I always wondered what happened to him.
Wednesday, May 08, 2002 i unnastudthim. he iss dissaglreable, and he hass idditated me...
Ahnold was on AMC.....classic, circa 1970.... and before he knew English. Huh. Now he runs our country's PE programs. coincidence?
in any case, it made me feel better. I am missing EVERYTHING tonight cuz I feel ucky.
He is dubbed....weird.
I realized today that I am not as "on it" during my own crises when someone else is in a crisis. I just told friend (A) to make friend (a) pay for something ridiculous and inexcusable, when it was not friend (a)s fault. At all. But I could have MADE it friend (a)s fault given enough time to rationalize it. Seriously. I can make anyone sound ridiculously bad. Or good. Depending on my whim.
But it all comes down to Boys Are Stupid and have No Common Sense. at all. At least the boys given very important checks to mail and who forget to put them in the mailbox. Or the boys who leave mean "brevity laden" notes of import. Or the boys who COMPLETELY neglect to tell their tenants that their house will be like a war zone for the next week. Or the boys who are just dumb as rocks. Dumb.
Like...any of the boys I've dated lately, especially the one who very sweetly called me obtuse and then ARGUED with me when I asked "Um, you know that's an insult, right?"
I just bought this. It smells like vanilla and campfire. Like smores, only floral... I am wearing it now and it's almost like coco chanel, only WAY cheaper. Yum!
Go here"...and recieve (sic) support in your Christian walk."
Moemoe found them. She is debating contacting. I mean, she doesn't need prayers said for her blog or anything, though moe, if you DO happen to hang out with these kids ever,
Let me go to the Hot Rod Revival with you...
I want the 45" radio buttons too.
So I come home to get ready for espanol. Parce que tengo una clase. Anyway, I start to freak. my window in my kitchen is broken. I go to the bathroom. The window in the bathroom is GONE, and there is a nasty note that says "EVERYTHING out of the BR by Sunday Nite. Linoleum being replaced. Finished by Tuesday." On the kitchen it says "Don't Open!!!"
I FREAKED OUT. My house has been sold, there is a sign outside, but come ON!!! 24 hour notice, people! SOMEONE was in my HOUSE today. Without my knowledge or permission. How do they--does ANYONE-- think that is okay??
I called my landlord. I said "did youNEGLECT to give me 24 hrs notice, or did you do it and I somehow forgot?" He said he forgot...I said "Your handyman left me a nasty note on my bathroom door. I am not thrilled. I am pissed, in fact. I know I may not be a priority since you are selling the house, but lest you forget, you DID accept my rent." he said he was sorry, he would talk to the handyman. I said "Please know that if it happens again, I will file a breaking and entry claim against your guy, and you. I deserve 24 hours notice. I deserve "please" and "thank you". It's courtesy."
I demanded respect.
he said (yelled, actually) "Oh, c'mon. If you do that to the handyman that has been fixing things at that house for over a year, I will evict you."
I was almost crying. I didn't say anything about how illegal it is to evict someone in retaliation for their exercising their tenant rights.
Instead, I queried "Why are you replacing the linoleum?"
He said something about the pest control inspector coming in for the escrow investigation saying the floor was saggy. "I said it always "sagged". how did a pest inspector know that? Was someone else in my house without my being notified?"
He admitted he'd forgotten to inform me. Lax. Bastard. I was enraged. I was FILLED with fury. Not only did I get a nasty note from the handyman, my landlord did not care a whit about me, even though I pay rent on time, sometimes early when he's short on cash. Ugh. RAT BASTARD (no offense to real ratties)
I hang up, he's promised to complain to his handyman.
I call all my friends (well, two of them, I was starting to realize after the first one that this was not a pleasant topic) who tell me to buck up, that I can sue if he tries anything, that I should get things in writing.
blah blah blah. BLAAAAAH. I am indignant. I need rectification. I am PISSED. I feel good I practically told my landlord I'd wipe the courts with him. I think about feeling better. I think "good thoughts" and try to send them to people who deserve them. I read Food And Wine. I start to feel better. Slightly.
I fix alisha's blog picture, I feel so good. Even though I didn't make my class. Because I felt my bowels floating loosely and threateningly all afternoon from stress. I make it. I am thinking about buying a bottle of wine. I am thinking about seriously looking for a new place to live.
I am still mad about the little demanding notes in my house. I am still fuming. But I am no longer red.
I debate whether I should call another friend and complain about rude indignant intolerably messy trespassing handyman.
My brother comes home.
He knows all about the demanding notes.
He wrote them. Rudeness due to brevity. Whatever.
Well, handyman DID trespass and make an abominable mess...and I still hate him. I hate them both. I hate them all.
What is it? Lemme see if I can sort of describe it...
BlindDateBlog is...a contest, tongue in cheek, combining survivor with elimidate. There is some prize money involved. There are funny people posting "smack down" attacks on each other. I don't think many of them actually know each other, but a couple might be old pals. They filled out a contestant application, they got picked to be on. The guy who is running the show is hilarious. his personal website is wacky. the woman who helps him is funny as well, though she is not as out there and visible. The bdb kids have a vocal audience in a "peanut gallery"; they make obnoxious comments and funny suggestions. And flirt. Hard core. And then there is the yahoo group. Okay. Everyone has a say so. The only thing it isn't is Big Brother, except we can see photos in thumbnails of the people who are journaling. There are rules, they can only post once a day until more people are voted off (or rather, simply not voted for) by the public reading the yahoo group polls.
And it's getting kind of trashy and fun, because all but 3 of the people on bdb competing have blogs...and they are campaigning for themselves on their own blogs...and their readers are getting silly and frantically joining...I'm dying.
I am following along, mezmerized, like so many of you people who watch those TERRIBLE (addicts) reality (regina) TV (alisha) shows. Like Temptation Island. Or worse, Blind Date.
Monday, May 06, 2002
Je pense mes dents suis trop grands...Ils sont très blancs et jolis cependant. Joie!
~Amelie avec les dents jolis! Finalement, sheesh.
My teeth will be fixed pronto!!!! HURRAH! There is a god. Damn.
okay, here's why I'm naughty...
with everything i have to do, I am still allowing myself to be distracted. Keeping up with the goings on at my favorite sites...will I ever learn?
silly girl, loves blog.
~amelie la foue
Just came out of a lengthy staff meeting. It was very interesting, lots of gossip and funky going's on here in the Capitol City regarding service funding...I am personally, and programmatically, down to my last 6 months of funding. Know that a fabulous program manager is looking for a great job opp... During a meeting where I ate lots of oreos (buy one/get one free at Unsafeway) and drank lots of coffee, I realized "I don't want to do this anymore." I don't want to know that I am considered nonessential, but am expected to do all the work anyway. Sorry to be such a bore, complainingg about my work, but what I do is fairly hard core in social services. In short, I literally fix problems for people living with HIV/AIDS. I go up against service providers/social security/section 8, you name it, with clients in tow. I write grievances for services not rendered, document errors, and in general, make people pissed off. Which I kind of like. I like policy as well. Policy and advocacy. But I have no money to PAY someone's rent. They might still have to wait until next month, while I've written out a stop of eviction, until the agency that is SUPPOSED to pay their rent actually does it ...ugh...cranky...
"It's with great regret that I make this post. (And I thought my day was rough as is.) I just received a phone call from Rachael's friend, Nicole. Rachael is currently at Northwest hopital in critical condition for what is most likely an overdose of painkillers. Thus, Rachael is out of the game...."
You don't have to watch reality TV anymore...now you can play Blind Date Blog or, you know, be puppetmaster or something.
just came back from a Beltane festival. NO, I am not into wicca. I have a few friends, I humor them when I have no plans...well, I did want to see what it was all about...but I have to say, "pagan" people (in the most generalized of generalized ways) are some of the most unattractive people on the planet. Except for my friends, it was a bit like a renaissance faire mixed with death goth mixed with a meeting for OA at a Star Trek convention. I was worried I'd have to administer first aid to some of the women in their flowy gauzy skirts as they jumped over a cauldron of fire. I was a little worried some of them might actually have sex on the grass. This was a fertility (simsex) rites type dealie-o. I am scared of the outcomes of tonight's later couplings....
I took my dog. He was a hit. We did not jump over the fire. Naturally, I wore plaid cropped pants, pink sunglasses, and a big fake peach colored hibiscus flower pinned into my hair.
Not fitting in with the tie-dyed gauze dresses and velvet, Seamas and I stood next to a woman with a slight beard and obvious gout leaning on a metal crutch, a young asian boy who told me he was vegan, so mote it be, and near my friend E-coli who looks exactly like a drag queen would love to look, Decked Out, only she's a real woman (fake rack). Actually, she's tall and very pretty and wears incredibly sexy clothes, which I think adds to the girlie girl look...I had to edit this part. Because E-coli is actually quite beautiful, and I think this part came out wrong.
I dunno. Lunch was really good. People were really nice. There's just something so silly and forced (in fact, they all looked uncomfortable and embarrased during the sim sex and the "maiden chase", except for E-coli since she does that for a living) about neo-paganism and new age melarkey. We left before the Maypole, which I would've been into if they'd've done it BEFORE I got bored. If I wasn't so anti-religion, I'd stick with good old Catholicism. I mean, there's history there. At least you KNOW you're going to be molested and screwed up...no surprises.
had to add Very nice site, this one. I've read it before. It popped up automatically on the bsnob dealie thingamabob, and I looked, and it was the same site I used to TYPE IN BY HAND........
Woah! Jenny? Thoughts? Opportunity or Threat?
Love, The Amelie.
todd the kitty update: he is still alive. Saw him this morning. His head still looks sick. He ran away when I put my shoes on to bundle him up and take him next door.
I kept thinking through the whole thing that the documentary makers found the MOST EMBARRASSING PEOPLE(4/29/02) in all of Northern California in order to make this movie...an absolutely despicable father, incomprehensibly idiotic children, poor judgement...a plethora of suck-you-into-their-sickness-ick. You can't help but watch, you are mesmerized and disgusted. And saddened.
I was further demoralized when I recognized Dr. Amen; I read one of his (badly written) books and recorded it onto tape for his clinic for an embarrassingly small amount of money because I was hanging out with his nephew who worked for him. I should buy it just to see if they even used my voice...
Bleck. This documentary made me sicker than Mr. Death. I am not down with it. at all.
And to think...I used to SOLVE PROBLEMS for people like this...most normal humans would write them off as trash. I found them disturbingly and stomach- sinkingly real.
Yes, it was done to make you think "drugs are bad". Of course it was. It was by the same guy who filmed Scared Straight. and that was iffy. Duh. But the story belonged to a sick, icky, sad, appallingly pathetic family.
Friday, May 03, 2002 "What is Mr. Winkle" is a series of photographs celebrating the many faces of the insanely cute Mr. Winkle, each image a hilarious and adorable interpretation of what this chameleonic little canine could be. . . A wind up toy? . . . A hamster with a perm? . . . An ancient demon? The "What is Mr. Winkle?"
All that really matters is...Mr. Winkle is a real dog So wrong and somehow so right...
can't help but wonder if it's animal abuse. That is the theme for the week.
AllyKat says: "Today I have to play games, drink horchata, and eat vanilla cookies with 150 kids from the Boys and Girls club. God help me."
sounds like a job for songs4praise...
calm down little children, jesus loves you.
Thursday, May 02, 2002
Tonight's rant is about a kitty. Sorry this has been week of pet tragedies...
A kitty that bit me in January, and I had to get antibiotic shots. Said kitty was investigated by animal control, because when you get said antibiotic shots for a stray cat bite, they report it and you have to watch for rabies.
Kitty stayed on my porch, as I was watching for death throes and worried I'd be next. Because I couldn't quite stomach the idea of any kitty going to his or her doom at the pound. Said kitty never died. Said kitty just terrorized my dog (who LIKES cats, he is the PSEUDO MOMMY to my KITTEN, but I am not finding the pics). And gave all my cats tapeworm (see archives for disgusting pictures since I refuse to post it again). On the day my traveling vet drove up in his winnebago (fully equipped for any contingency), shooting my cats full of vermiformerific (I made up that word, sounds good, non?) solutions, said kitty walked by my neighbor's daughter who called him Todd. I paused at that moment, took in the fact that said kitty was not a stray, and informed said neighbor's daughter that her cat was full of tapeworms and needed veterinary assistance immediately. In addition, I mentioned the icky antibiotic shots and the fact that I had one day left to let animal control know that said kitty was not a rabies case.
I began to ignore Todd and not feed him or worry about rabies.
Todd is a mess. Todd has weird ribs, odd body under his fur...he is a wreck of a mess.
Alisha said to me today "I'm scared of this cat on your porch...did you see all the scratches on his head?"
I said yeah, ignore the bastard...and shooed him off my porch.
Until I came home. And he was there.
And I took a look.
Todd has been scalped. I mean, BADLY. The top of his head is reattached by scabbed over ick. He is hot. He is sick.
I immediately knocked on my neighbor's door. She was sleeping. Her ghetto boyfriend Jesse answered like I was a cop instead of their nice cat friendly neighbor. I told him his cat needed a vet. Immediately. Like, NOW, buddy. He told me "I don't care what you do. Call the pound. Thanks for your concern." And then he shut the door.
TOOOOODDDDD! I am so frustrated. I cannot afford to fix someone else's kitty. I have to save money in case I have to move! ARRRRGGGH. I drank the rest of my bottle of wine. Decided not to call the pound. Decided to feed Todd and put out a blankie. He cannot come into my house, he is a deranged kitty. I want to give him a bath to check his other problems, but I am scared his will tear into me or bite me again. And let me tell you, that was not fun nor pretty.
Poor kitty. I just want to cry.
I mean, I was STANDING there, in my flannel pyjamas, in the cold, worried....And he just closed the door.
This is what I rant and scream about in my noisy bad dreams.
I am about to leave my office. Over my computer, a tall one of these stands. actually, it's more a group of those...it's actially a small dangling windy whimsical forest...in a terra cotta pot that weighs a ton...
my office has postings of every disability advocate in town, all the training I am supposed to attend this month, a little cozy chair for clients in an icky brown plaid (it's coziness is deceiving, as the bottom seems to drop out when you sit on it), a little metal sideboard full of tea and cookies, a fan, and a big desk covered with client charts up the whazzoo...notes to self everywhere...a photocopy of a picture someone sent me that says "resist patriotism"...lotion, lotion, lotion-- from sensitive skin to scented, lots of hiliters and no ball points, lots of old business cards but no new ones (no budget for printing), and pictures of my flowers in my garden, and my dog and cats everywhere. I have a butterfly rainbow colored slinky and a little plastic boy with yellow hair and a homie pitbull at his side. I have crap everywhere, but it's comfy and cozy and just messy enough so as not to be intimidating. I have windows that open and a vase of geraniums on my windowsill. I have 4 different left handed scissors, and I'm not left handed. I have crayons and drawing paper. I have a book by lester bangs that drug addicts always flip through. I have 45 (exageration) videotapes on what it is like to live with HIV AND be medically compliant...I have an inbox (full) and an outbox (not full). I have at least 4 thank you cards on my desk from this week alone. I have letters from people in jail who say they are all innocent and can prove it if I help them. I gave the godiva chocolate leftovers from 2 weeks ago to Regina...my boss gave me a thank you card today. I feel very unsettled by all this love. But it's good unsettled. I wish everyone felt it.
I realized I am the epitome of the busy/friendly /slightly kooky/ quite messy social worker. Unintentionally. I hate that I do social work. I think it sounds very soothing. sigh. I soothe. But I wear cool shoes doing it and listen to leonard cohen or teisco del rey when I type up client grievances, so I must have SOMETHING going for me...messy or no.
Jenny had funny calendars and kooky heads from hula dolls, Alisha has blank clean space, my dad has a sign that says "A Cluttered Desk is a Sign Of Genius" (If that were true, lemme just say I should win "smartest"). My coworkers have tidy spaces with candy offered. Everyone in my agency has a cleaner office/desk area, as if they are ashamed to leave something out....
I realized I respect people with cleaner office spaces...but I have all the thank you notes!!
Tomorrow I will wear sneakers. They will be a mess, and match my desk.
I took the test for your realage, since I know my cholesterol levels etc., and I am "realage 25.3"
interesting, non? I usually get tagged for younger...but I'm happy with 25! Where are the cute boys??? damn.
yes, you have to sign up. sorry. I used a fake-out email address, though...adding to my youthful conniving...plus the fact that I ate jelly beans, egg salad and pretzels today for lunch...I'm on my way to toddlerhood.
I searched and searched...and I found.
These were very cool birdies that followed me to the ferry. Apparently, everyone in SF already knows about them.
I had no idea.
They would die in Sacto.
Cute! more! Jenny told me there were sites...of sights....she cited sites of sights.
I am thinking english would be a very hard language to learn right about now...
Wanting parrots all over the world to fly free,
not to be annoying (though I know it is), but I just ate a bunch of these and I highly recommend...They are extremely addictive. I love sugar.
Wednesday, May 01, 2002
Amelie is soooooo sleeeeeeeppppyyyyyy.....
Long day with Lil' miss moe...at her company...observing and interviewing...
I am blown away by teamwork at for profits. It's so fast paced and in your face. I liked it.
Non profits are more democratic...decisions take forever to make, and then they assign maybe 4 people to work on separate things.
Next, you bring the original planning group together for revisions. And then you publish the draft, and then they ratify it. And then it's done. It's a LONG process. I watched that process happen 3 times in 7 hours at Jenny's work. Advertising. Frightening fun. And NO ONE checked me out, it was your imagination. I probably had my fly open or chocolate on my teeth or something. People don't do that to me. All I have to say is JENNY ROCKS ASS. She is so fast at what she does, we had plenty of time to chit chat. It was almost boring to be there, she doesn't do anything WRONG....I did get sort of seasick on the ferry home. It wasn't like the fast one we'd taken in the morning. I did not have any beer.
On the way there we got to watch these crazy cranes heading for the bay bridge. They were huge dinosaur-like things. We passed right in their wake in the morning, they were astoundingly prehistoric and being barged carefully around at low tide. We heard later that they'd cleared okay.
I made it home in time to get my dog at Kim's house (a house I will probably live in some day this year), and to chat for a bit. She doesn't know if she is "in love" with her boyfriend, but she will likely end up with him. He seemed nice when I met him. And she looks AMAZING for a 48/49 year old woman. I mean, she BLOWS my MIND she looks so good. Probably because she never had kids and wore sunscreen. She looks pretty and young without any makeup. I aspire to be so fortunate when I am her age. I mean, she's old enough to be my MOM.