I also did the obscure band thing. Like 3 times. I came up with The Strokes (nope, I don't even like them that much. I like Sonic Youth better) Mouse On Mars (I have no idea what this is) and Modest Mouse (Excellent. I have knowledge/we are in agreement).
Well, I'm sick of working.
I haven't done much. I applied for a job and sent some housing applications off for a client or two. Talked to a few people about meetings coming up this week. Went to farmer's market for lunch (bought a POUND of peppers) and ate a lot of chicken.
Bought some peaches, but they don't look like they will make it home they are so ripe.
Anyway, last night was crazy. I've been trying not to think too much about it. I think my nerves, already frazzled from the guy who tried to get me to give him sandwich fixings yesterday morning, were shot by 9 PM. Went out to turn on the water on my new flowery plantings. All the way around the house because there is no gate on the side where there is a water faucet. Went indoors to hang out with allykat. I decided to turn the water up a notch since the slight drizzle wasn't doing much. I walked outside, and saw my gate hanging open. Wedged open. I knew I hadn't done it, and I knew I wouldn't have done that with bikes in the yard. I took seamas outside with me, but he wouldn't go into the backyard. It was dark. I ran back into the house. I beat seamas to the sliding glass door.
I tried to explain to Ally why I was so upset. Sometimes I have trouble explaining why an anomaly has completely freaked me out. She has no trouble explaining what's upsetting her. She kept saying "Maybe you left it open. Maybe it's nothing."
I, on the other hand, was looking for some kind of weapon. Sharp and serrated.
Finally found a flashlight and made her come outside with me. The yard is VERY dark. All the bikes were there. I was still spooked. Anyway, no one was in the yard.
I hate feeling like that, jumpy and creeped out and on edge.
And now I'm looking at quonset hut prices and rummage centers in California. I need to have no access to the internet. This is really bad. I oughtta be fired.
This structure, if built low, requires no building permit. Cool, non? It may be mine and my pal Erica's next "Big" project. After we finish the volcanoes, bien sur.
Neat! From askart.com
An early American artist named (Harriet) FISH
Another gleaming example of stuff you can learn from the internet. While avoiding the dreaded pile of paper at your elbow that is screaming "deadlines!" and other forms of working.
AIM keeps sending me notices of new messages. People want to send me messages. Strangers. I know they are sending me viruses. I say no.
~Amelie is a good girl.
This may not appeal...but it's interesting. Note in the Art link a photolithograph by Judy Chicago. Yeah, I'm fascinated.
I've been waking up early lately. And not just on weekends, but actually in time for work to start at a time when everyone else is going in. I figure if I train myself day by day to get to work 5 minutes earlier each time, I will be down to 8 AM very soon. Now I just have to work on staying till 5, and I'll be totally employable and "responsible" again. It's taken time, but I've gotten my workweek down to approximately 4 days of 5 hours of actual work, and one day of 10 hours of actual work. You really cannot beat it. But now is the time to train, like for the olympics, for those Long Haul Days like you all work. Because soon, my funding will run out, and I cannot make my own hours anymore.
~La Travailleuse, c'est Amelie
Is this the next big Hello Kitty ankle tattoo??
From the onion. of course.
Did I ever mention that I got a Hello Kitty Angel toaster for my housecolding? Regina gave it to me. I have hello kitty faces burnt into my toast whenever the mood grabs me.
Now I need a talking microwave.
I added a comment thingy. Everytime I click on it, it automatically makes my name "Ally."
Tuesday, July 30, 2002
Once, a long time ago, I read a book called The History Of Food. In it, an entire chapter was devoted to the history of pig eating and how it was easy for cannibals to make the transition to eating pork meats because they were so human tasting.
Brodonium linked to another great site on food and it's history, linking some serious stuff to some silly stuff, and I've only just BEGUN to explore the fascinating bits...
They even have the history of peeps listed. But no twinkies.
~Amelie ne mange pas des personnes ni viandes porcs ni peeps.
I am trying to make some changes here. Notice any?
I cannot get on IM.
I am lonely cuz there's no one to distract me on IM.
Some guy rode up to me when I was getting into my car this morning. He said he wanted to help me with my front yard. He gave me a phone number and his name, Randy. I said I'd call him. He hit me up for money. I said no. He said "payment in advance, I'm hungry. My wife and I have little kids." I said "I have canned food you can have if you have a can opener." I was going into my house when he asked for sandwich making stuff. I said I didn't have any. He told me no thanks for the canned foods. I thought that was weird. I said I'd call him later (my spooky deja vu was really kicking in.) I hate talking to people I regard as client-like around my house. Because most of my clients and their cohorts are manipulative and not trustworthy and I only like to meet with them in professional settings or in their homes. I don't like people asking me for money. I always say no, because I know there are shelters to sleep and eat at, and there's an hourly work-for-hire program at the local shelter, Loaves and Fishes.
On the way to work, I called my brother and left a message asking him to come home for lunch in case the guy was casing my house.
He said I was a complete idiot and said he'd be home for lunch.
Allykat said she'd hang out at my house for the day while her car was being fixed.
She says she saw my guy watching the house from across the street, he rode off when he saw her go inside.
I am definitely going home early today.
I am going to look at alarm systems as well.
HWY 50 was closed. We didn't hike in Desolation. Instead, We drove down a gravel path in Apple Hill and walked down some switchbacks to Slab Creek (where there's a reservoir, but we couldn't figure out how to get to it as the gates were locked). My hiking partner was very agile and led me scrabbling over rocks and boulders and "slabs" down on the creek. We didn't hike far at all, but the hopping and jumping to each rock was really fun. Especially with slowly unfreezing gatorades in a back pack that sloshed and threatened to throw me off into the deep, rushing creek. A trout was caught, but was thrown back. Luckily, no moquitoes. Then, we came back to watch The Man Who Wasn't There and a movie called The Devil's Backbone, which wasn't nearly as scary as I was hoping. I swear, i was hurting. After Saturday at the gym (Ally, I went all by myself!) and then the hike coming back up the switchbacks, I am worn out. The kind of worn out that just makes you want to go back to sleep.
Saturday (aforementioned, went to gym hurrah), I did chores galore. I had all sorts of energy after lifting a few weights; by 1 PM I had composted and watered my entire little plot in the front yard (I am still debating whether I should go with non-lawn or traditional lawn. I bought ice plant type stuff and creeping thyme to fill in the patches). I also planted some dianthus and some catnip in the yard. I think I will let the catnip mature a bit, and then plant it in the backyard. I adore gardening, but the yard in front was depressing. And the landlord said he wanted to wait till he could come out and fix the sprinklers. Well, I can't stare at dirt another month or two. And if it comes down to it, my brother can reroute the system. I need prettiness. Now.
At Erica's house, we clipped my dog down to the skin practically. I cut off his skirt and his fore and hind locks. I cut so much dog hair, you could have made a sweater. Which explains why he has been so completely non-cuddly and miserable acting all summer. He's been HOT! So, now that he's got no hair, he cuddles and wants to be petted and has a little jaunty walk again like he knows he looks sharp (I tried to to an all over cut, but there are still some vestigial forelocks.) I kept his eyebrows and a little bit of his beard. God, he's cute.
Then, we bundled the dog dogs (after watching Love and a .45---Great Soundtrack overall!) into the car for the Zombie Parade. Erica's dog Nitro was Skelebeast and Seamas and I went as a dog walking accident. I had blood coursing down my legs into my socks and lots of blood around my eyes and nose and my face looked bruised. I didn't mess with my arms, as there are already very convincing bruises all over them. I refused to tear my shirt, but I looked okay. Seamas took the prize for best team player. He was smothered in gauze that was soaked with red nail polish. He looked very realistically hurt, except that he trotted along with the aforementioned jaunty walk. He was scared of the zombies, though. I mean, he started shaking when I tried to get him through a crowd of them. It reminded me of earlier that day when he spyed a dog at the feed store. He tried to go up to her, but the woman handling her said "NO!" and her dog was pulling away. I said "Oh, she doesn't look too vicious (knowing Seamas ignores mean dogs completely and gloms onto the ones with better personality) and my dog's really nice." She said "She's a puppy. She's very afraid of other dogs."
Wow. I had just witnessed how dogs become vicious and impossible to take to dog parks. Their owners haven't got a clue about socializing them.
So anyway, it took him about 4 minutes to warm up to begin petted and coddled by things that looked dead, and we walked in a very silly late night parade, where the culminating silliness was attacking a person in line at the movie theater and pulling out the gooey mess hidden under his shirt, and eating it while he twitched like the dying. Okay, it was completely hokey. We didn't stay for the movie, but loads of people took our photos. Skelebeast was also a trooper, I have pictures of both dogs I will develop and scan.
Know what I want? Some sort of tool or website that has a query box called "Is this good grammar?" and you type in your sentence and it says either "Sure!" or "Um, try this instead." I feel that the tool on MSword is not good enough. It tells me when I'm using a passive voice, or it wants to switch a sentence to one way, and then it reselects it to switch it back again. I hate it, actually. And, to be quite honest, the older I get, the slighter my grasp on the English language. I wish I could blame it on taking so much French and Spanish, but really, come on. It's because no one in this country writes well, and no one can spell, and when I first started surfing the web it bothered me a lot. Now I glance at things, and dismiss them. I don't care that much if an email is spelled poorly (well, unless it's someone interested in dating me, because I am such a psycho I think "What if I like them? What if we fall in love and get married? What if our kids have his learning disabilities?" and then I write them off. Literally. Anyway, my big fear is that I will unlearn how to speak properly. My spelling is abyssmally deplorable lately, and sometimes I find myself staring at a word and thinking "That's how it's spelled? Really? Huh." Like it's foreign and I've never seen it. Or "Who was the genius that came up with THAT one. 'good'. Go-od. Goooooood. Stupid word. That's plain ridiculous. Plain. Plai-n. ugh." I obsess about some words, cannot stand them to be voiced (okay, one awful word, so icky to my ears that if you know it please don't write it because I hate reading it as well) sorry (and frankly, with a language so packed with synonyms, it baffles me that we use the icky one so often). Another thing that bothers me is when people use incorrect words. One of my dearest pals uses "boughten". I am finally getting used to it. I used to hit the roof when someone would pronounce the T in "often". Maybe I am just too sensitive. But I do like deliberately manipulated words. Like Lil' Miss or Grrl. I also like bad words. A lot. Especially when women say "fuck" once in awhile or "bitch." I love that. It's a form of power reclamation. Okay, I'm crazy. Amoeba is nodding an emphatic "YES!"
I was listening to NPR and Puffy was on (Puffy Ami Umi). They are a pop band from Japan. Okay, I know I'm getting old when I liked their karaoke style tunes. Man. Like sucking cotton candy through your ear canal. They're "Big In Japan". Anyway, here're their action figure dolls. (as an aside, my college roommate Karen, when asked what she wanted most in the whole world, answered "my own doll; a doll of myself") They even have a kid's show! wacky.
I'm off to do chores and to create a zombie dog. Tomorrow is hiking in Tahoe.
It's cold in my office. I can't tell if that's because I just ate drunken noodles at the thai place across the street (yum) or if it's really cold. I think it's a combo of both, plus I am entering food coma. I am going to miss Ally this weekend because she is going off to visit familie. I am going to a zombie film festival tomorrow with Erica. We are taking our dogs. It should be interesting. Seamas is going to look like a mummy and her dog Nitro will be a skelebeast. We'll try to clip Seamas' hair before wrapping him, otherwise my dog will die of heat stroke.
We had a funny discussion about dreams today over lunch. I dreamt last night that I was in a restaurant on a boat, like a lifeboat, and we were eating some finger foods (it was all the rage) in the middle of the afternoon, and the water was clear, and I said "Tiburon lagoon is lovely this time of day" and looked over the edge into the face of a whale, and then the whale dived under us and tipped the boat. And I went down under the water, screaming (so I probably yelled out in real life, because I do that), but I am a fabulous swimmer and although I dreamt I swallowed some water, I swam to the top again. First thing out of my mouth to the other swimmers? "Damn that whale. What a punk." I think it had something to do with the whale Mr. Big in "Meet The Feebles", a movie that made me think of muppets gone awry in a chuck e cheese. Anyway, Chad dreams about smooth, unblemished buildings with no edges and no people. I said "Maybe you are sending yourself to Brasilia, as that's what the buildings look like there" (like I know or something). And Carl said he doesn't remember his dreams very often, or only pieces of them anyway, but his girlfriend turns over and yells at him a lot when she's sleeping, so he knows she has pretty interesting dreams.
Mine are crazy, detailed, and annoying. I usually have some random and odd animal in the mix, and a boy. Often it's about being chased or being stranded or carreening out of control. And I never have a gun when I need one. I can usually remember a lot of them if they are vivid, and sometimes I have the same dream serially. If they wake me up, I will very likely remember them. I woke up before the alarm because I was so irritated with the whale that made me lose my eggroll.
Thursday, July 25, 2002 En Francais, s'il vous plaites... I don't know how good a translation it is, but it looks pretty good for the most part.
One thing I noticed is it traded bons bons to feves de feves. That, according to altavista babble fish, means "Broad beans broad beans."
I think that's a slight departure from the original intent of "treats".
Expelled! Many may not know how big a deal this is, but he's been expelled by an overwhelming vote. Only one other member has ever been expelled, and I had to ask my brother the history freak who that was. He said, "That can happen?" Why yes, sleepy head, it can happen if you are a convicted criminal.
Only one voted to keep him in the assembly. Who was that, might you ask? None other than Gary Condit. That's pretty funny. But is it irony? as my HS english teacher Mr. Baxter used to say (who, consequently, was a Jesuit brother/previously teaching at Jesuit, but had to leave the school and the order due to dating a hippy art teacher also at Jesuit~~THAT irony, Bax?)
Poor Mr. Traficant; not even Ohioans will claim you even though they voted for you. I am wondering if you don't have an aneurysm causing all your craziness. Steve introduced you to me, and now I'm watching the commotion from my little desk...
Wednesday, July 24, 2002
Wow! This guy is a CHARACTER! I want this kind of tourrette's syndrome, it's guaranteed a laugh:
Traficant addressed Colorado Republican Joel Hefley,
who chaired the panel looking into Traficant's
behavior, as "You . . . you Coors drinker"
I really need to find a place that sells cases of this stuff...
Oh, went to see Lovely and Amazing with Ally and Chad last night. It was a brilliant film, I really got into it. Excellent characters.
I'm listening to X Wild Gift. I forgot how amazing this album is. 20 years later, Lovely and Amazing. I did not know this, but White Girl was written for Lorna Doom of the Germs.
~Amelie: She's blonde...
Pulled from the funny Davezilla site (D to your left), I think I actually found out What Jesus Would Do (with a sense of humor).
Moe? Wear these on your wedding day, baby.
I just realized that if you got into a wreck, and they pulled up your skirt to check your spleen, it would be okay to be wearing these particular "holy" underwear.
Personally, I'm buying the ones that say "Where Will YOU Spend Eternity?"
~Amelie, thinkin' they need a pair that says "Find Rapture Here."
PS. My brother said "Oh yeah. I've seen those before."
Tuesday, July 23, 2002
So, I ask my coworker "can I buy 2 stamps offa you?" And she gives me two. and I don't look at them.
And I make out my check for the water/trash bill.
And I look at the stamps.
OMIGOD! Walker Evans, Okay? DOROTHEA LANGE. Okay?
And it's 1930's recession era irony, as the stamps just went up to 37 cents.
Go buy these.
~Amelie, who walked to city hall to pay the bill so she wouldn't have to use the stamps.
How Scary Is This? This is the freakiest thing I have seen regarding pregnancy. Being pregnant is bad enough. But this takes the cake. Don't worry, there's no pictures.
It's a cancer caused by an out of control fetal/placental cells. When the fertilized egg implants, and then goes haywire, invading the mother's body with cancerous crazy stem cells from hell. There are no human bits there. Just crazy cells. Like some kind of alien freakish thing.
How did I find it? I was on a crazy anti-abortionist group's site awed by their weirdness. Until they put up the only reason they would conceive of allowing an abortion. Of course, such an abortion would be impossible as by the time a woman decided she wanted to terminate a pregnancy, SHE'D BE DEAD.
The whole thing makes me want to hole up gladly alone and become a hermit. But then, I'm a hypochondriac.
Monday, July 22, 2002
Okay, so I found this hobby on the not martha site (MNM to your left (thanks doll!)). Of course, I sent it to Dave (NKI to your left) and sure enough, he found letterboxist type things in the Sacramento area (as that is HIS hobby; seeking out and making known odd things about this town that actually make it slightly interesting to live here. Believe me, he finds freakish things. He is a veritable Treasure uh, "TROVE" of uselessly useful things to know about Sacto.)
So, here are the clues to Letterboxing in Davis, CA and in Folsom, CA. Not far from Sacramento, CA, where I am sure I will, on a rainy ol' day, buy a bunch of inexpensive journals and hide them with a stamp all over town in inconspicuous places. Perhaps I will have a little party and it will be a "hide the notebook" as opposed to a "scavenger hunt" type thing.
Once done, check for the blues clues, kiddies.
~amelie la sinistre
Bruise is extremely big. calling kaiser.
Not being hypochondriacal. Someone else freaked when she saw it.
While researching OTC speed, found an excellent article on www.TheStranger.com
No, jeez, it's not for ME. I'm ALREADY an insomniac. Researching so I know what the hell my clients are talking about.
~Amelie la speedster
Okay. Lafaya is late.
I'm starving. I found old andes mints in my desk. They are not good.
Moe is killing me here...at least I am laughing. Reading this little excerpt, I nearly shot an andes mint out of my nose with that snorty laugh I tend to laugh when I'm trying not to throw up:
Then there's Meowing Chick. I don't know how to really describe her. There is almost too much. She goes to Star Trek dating get togethers. She talks at LENGTH about, well, EVERYTHING, and after 40 minutes you STILL don't know what the fuck she's saying. She started this "comedy" night thing. But it's not comedians or anything, it's just a bunch of people who get together and laugh. No jokes, they don't even talk, they just sit in a room and start laughing. Seriously. And as if that wasn't all fucking annoying enough, she meows. The way most people swear or interject "umm" or "like," she fucking MEOWS. And not like some kind of animal sound, as though she's got some cat fixations. She says, "Meow." Yeah, "Me-ow."
And these are my prospective co-workers.
I totally want to meet this person. Too bad she's not the one they hire.
I am monitoring a giant bruise on my arm.
It's subtly turning mauve, but it's still hard, so I am guessing it's good for another week of discoloration.
Why I bruise:
Too much alcohol thins blood?
Any combo of the above?
I have this theory that, if I didn't die trying, I could potentially bruise myself deliberately, methodically, and have a lovely looking "tan" if they fade regularly and I am not viewed in bright light.
My cat Shabazz scared the crap out of me this morning. He kept hitting the litter box and staying there. I switched food on him, so I think he got another urinary tract infection. The other cats are fine. He is the most lovable of them all. I don't know what to do. Called the vet, he came out and gave him a shot. Said "Yep, cystitis." and took my check. I hate vet bills. because I am already broke. Now I have to borrow against my next check like some paycheck-to-paycheck person or something. I feel like I'm older, wiser, and make more than a lot of people, but I still have money management problems. My friend Lafaya is coming over today to help me figure it out over lunch. I'll let you know if she is good. I'm guessing, yeah. She bought a house, paid for grad school, and had two kids by age 27 and is not in debt.
What scares me is she says things like "if you save now, you can retire by age 45." She's meaning live frugal, don't eat out, don't go to shows, don't see movies, don't go on trips. To me, that sounds like I'd rather save the bare requirements, get that in my IRA, have my mutual funds funded at the minimum, and live paycheck to paycheck otherwise. Because life must be fun. And I don't have kids. Staying put and watching TV for fun and excitement scares the crap outta me. But we'll see. I'll be adamant that I cannot be like her.
Saturday, July 20, 2002
Weirdly part of my post just erased. I am having blogger hate.
Spent Saturday in Reno with my gal pals. It was super fun. BBQ pork ribs soaked in Coca cola and slow roasted in an oven, slathered in spicy bbq sauce...chicken skewered with pineapple and big cool cups of mojitos...all kinds of wine...good bourbon and fresh mint...fattening decadent desserts...smoked salmon and capers...gaseous emissions from yours truly who was banished to the basement due to sleepiness and too much gas causing food.
Then, I woke up somehow (I am still weirded out that I wasn't still drunk when I woke up) and drove home to catch a Secretions/Angry Amputees show. My new favorite band because the bass player is not only an old friend, but he blew my mind with his bass playing. He lost most of his skin and much of his appendages/legs, hands, fingers, to one of the first incidents of a flesh eating bacteria from South America that he caught in some Isla Vista gutter as a teenager. And he plays fast, loud, accurately, and better than most. Not to mention the rest of the band sounds like The Gits during their fast songs, a fab riotgrrl band I saw one time before sadly Mia Zapata was stalked, raped, and murdered in her hometown. Atrocious, more common than expected, statistic. Ugh.
Secretions were raucous, loud, funny, and great as well. All this silliness and fabulousness on a Sunday afternoon. happy me!
I am now waiting to find out if I will be watching Sex In The City tonight. As I had HBO for 4 years without paying for it, and never once did I care. Now, no SITC and I'm upset. I hope someone tapes it. Waaaaaah. Actually, I woulnd't have been too upset except all my friends called to remind me this was the season premier. Heartbreaking!
I just edited the longest post I ever made. It was so long, I didn't even want to read it again. Amazing. I like this online digital editing. I can just cut and paste and erase. Nice. Ever tried to erase some blather from a regular diary? Not exactly cake.
And Yeah, I am still suffering from Converse outrage. And also, house prices. House prices that are rising with fewer jobs.
Look for: disasters in the mortgage brokerages in the upcoming months, and houses to either go off market or to be reduced to affordable prices. (That's when I'll try to buy, because hey, I'm fairly savvy and meanspirited, plus I'm eminently employable if I would just get off my lazy ass. I just don't want to pay a lot for canvas and rubber bits.)
Look for: Possibly more Annoying Amelie rants on the economy. That is, if I can afford my internet connection.
~Amelie, la discouraged neo-keynesian
Friday, July 19, 2002
So, I happened to be at the mall yesterday, and I popped into footlocker.
do not go there. Althought they are having a buy one/get the next one half off. Still. That's $50 for shoes that should cost $30 total for two pair. Converse All Stars is what I'm talkin' about.
Ally said she thinks it's funny I get so upset with prices these days, like a granny remembering candybars were a nickel. But candy bar ingredients actually COST a nickel. I just get sick that I cannot afford sneakers that cost the manufacturer $2 to produce in China and then ship in bulk to the US, where the demand is high. I think they are being sneaky with their sneakers, and not producing enough to fill the demand on purpose, which is a form of price gouging. I also know that Converse sold their license when they went bankrupt, which is why the damn shoes cost so much. They are a "licensed" brand now. It's absolutely "inflation", and it's "errant business decisions". It's reduction in customer satisfaction. It's a travesty. It's just bad form.
It makes me sick to know that there are so many people out of work, yet Footlocker can say "Pay $35 for these bits of rubber and canvas that cost you $24 last year at this time." Back when I was bitching about $24.
the converse on sale? 35 bucks. These were my favorite sneakers. Because they were cheap and not all fruity. Plus, you could pop them in the wash when they started to "smell". Now they cost as much as the fruity ones.
I'm going to preserve my old ones with bronze. To remember the sneakers that priced me out of the market.
Thursday, July 18, 2002 Porn Stories I didn't even read very much of this before I knew I was going to post it. It reminded me of when my best friend worked at Tower Video when we were still freshmen in college. There was a clerk named Wade who would make a big deal of having to clean the tapes after the porno ones came in. He was a big hulking mulleted guy with a moustache and glasses. He drove a trans-am and had never (as of age 29, anyway) been out of Sacramento (that part of his story scared me and Gina more than the fact that he secretly liked to sanitize the porn tapes.) Otherwise, he was quite nice and shy. Anyway, the porn stories reminded me of Gina's video clerk stories.
And another thing...Ally and I saw Road to Perdition. (we also got our eyebrows done all pretty and bought make up we probably didn't need cuz we liked the plucky eyebrow plucker so much). Anyway, Road goes pretty much where I thought it would, but the movie is bleak. Hanks looks bloated and constipated throughout. The little boy? Needed to see our eyebrow plucker pronto. Jennifer Jason Leigh looked stark. Everything was a bit maudlin, actually, especially the father/son relationships as they go from blase to overemote city. Still, it's never exactly "loud". Nothing about htis movie is loud. It's a long story, not much dialogue, too quiet to eat popcorn or fish through your bag of sour patch kids. However, the redemption from perdition came from the soundtrack, and with quiet Irish bagpipes (Uillean, pronounced "willen"), it was quite pretty indeed. I will buy it for my da.
xo and goodnight,
Oh yeah, and the hip kids at the local Orange Julius? They are pretty much 100% sure that there is no milk (aka dairy) in their drinks. Only a dried powder "flavor additive" called, ahem, "Whey."
Does no one read their kids Mother Goose anymore? 11:44 PM
Yesterday was intensely annoyed amelie day.
Today is better.
I went to a homeless health fair, was describing my program to some homeless fellow who just wanted me to sign his paper so that he could enter a raffle for a bike. Mid description, he pipes up with "Oh yeah, I know someone who does similar work here in town. She's really great, does great work. You should talk to her, she can tell you what's up. Can't remember her number, but her name is _______________" and I said "Yeah? Nice to meet you too!" He looked shocked, but then I showed him his card, and he freaked out. I got a kick out of it. My celebrity name precedes me in the homeless populations.
Meanwhile, back to yesterday, mitigated by happy hour with friends...my cool coworker RW tells me about this site "Barbitches.com, you HAVE to see it." And so I'm looking. And do you know what?
I cannot believe I haven't linked it before. Bonus points to the persons who find RW's name buried in the site. Pretty good, BB gals!
~Amelie no es una barfly
I am thoroughly heartsick and offended, as I am in most missing person cases, by the disappearance and murder of the little 5 year old girl in SoCal. She was found yesterday, about 24 hours after she'd been kidnapped. I was highly disturbed by the fact that it took them awhile to ID her little body one day after she'd been missing. What did he do to her? My god.
My friend pointed out yesterday that the statistics are higher for a child being killed in a car accident than by a serial child molester/murderer. Therefore, we shouldn't lock our children away in walled gardens. He was trying to calm me down, I think. And generally, I agree, though I think the key word there is "accident", and not "statistics". I find it extremely disturbing that we as a society release people we have deemed paid in full as far as their debt to society. We don't lock serial predators up forever; I think I've probably ranted about this before. If someone does something as horrific as a kidnap/rape/murder, they need to be removed from society. For the rest of their lives. Forever. Lock down. Never come out. Period. If they are let out, it is our systemic error. Not one to kill, I might be up for long term freezing in cold storage. We'd save a LOT on food and space. It's definitely something to think about, deep freeze, let the lawyers and detectives hash it out, if you are proven to be innocent in an appeal, you come out young. And really caught up on sleep.
See, we lock up addicts faster than child molesters (although I suppose many may point out that a few are one and the same). When a child molester kills, it's because the molester has learned to cover their tracks. When murderous psychotics kill and leave bodies out to be found, they are trying to play a game called "Catch me if you can" and they will keep going, and torture killing, until they are caught. It's a rush for them until they turn about 40 years old. They can take out a lot of children on their road to prison.
The fact is, while children get mangled in 10 car pile ups, and many of them also die, those children who die in crashes are not targets because they are children. Child molesters/rapists/killers specifically target children, virtually reducing to nul the probability of a 30 year old woman being raped and murdered by a child molester/killer. Statistics about reality versus perception speak to a mass number of incidents, not a targeted population within which these specific incidents occur. And actually, the statistics for it happening are not that small. I only wish they were.
I have had 2 very close people in my life who were, when small children, molested and/or raped by family members. I have had one person completely disappear from sight and life. That's 3 known incidents regarding people in my own life. That's a lot of people who have been targets. That's a high enough percentage to alarm me. I know there are bad people out there. I get such a headache thinking about the fact that as a society, we do not seem to keep people in jails who are so morally errant that the system cannot comprehend their scope of evil, yet we spend a lot of time putting people in jail and prison who are not at all offensive enough. At least to me.
Plus, my nose is bleeding and my arms and legs have mysterious bruises all over them. Nice.
~Amelie the anemic
Interesting vs. Intriguing Otherwise known as "writing for 6th grade vocabularies". And also, I Do Not Get Paid Enough For This Shit.
Today, we had a staff meeting. I got here on time. 8 AM is an ungodly hour for thinking about jobbish things.
It started out normally, with introduction to and of new staff. Then, there was a really poorly done presentation by one of the programs that was very proud of a super boring power point presentation they had done to describe their program, but what they really wanted to say was "We were in the paper (even though it wasn't an entirely accurate article about us.) Next, we were given a writing lesson.
Communication was the agenda topic, due to complaints that "HELLO, NO ONE IN THIS AGENCY EVER KNOWS WHAT'S GOING ON". Nor do we care, because really, who does? That's the point. We don't care about the stupid retreat that we have to pay for, but are required to go to. We don't care that another program was in the paper. We are all irritated that the agency is making us come in early for a 2 hour long monthly staff meeting when we have things to do, people to schmooze, and reports to write. We don't care about the agency, because they take a cut of our grants and don't help us write them, then they determine how much we each get paid as "their employees" although TECHNICALLY, we pay them.
1) Consider your audience
-Write at a 6th grade level
My question (that was ignored)~are they all 12 year olds?
2) Anticipate special problems in your reader's reaction.
-Will the reader have to make a decision based on your details?
~God, I hope not
3) Outline your message functionally.
-What's the bottom line messsage to your reader?
~Well, the agency I work for is going to run me out of here so fast, everyone's chairs will spin.
4) Develop the first draft
5) Edit for content, clarity, conciseness, style, and grammar
~The funniest part about this is that the memos they gave us for examples? Had typos. Like: "Thousands of low resource consumers are stretching their limited food dollars by learning smarter ways to budget and shop for nutritions food and to preapare and each a greater variety of foods. Extension Services nutrition programs provide them important life lesions that boost confidence in other areas of their lives as well."
How nice for them. And all their life lesions as they each a greater variety of foodstuffs.
I turned to the man next to me. I said "Did you have to pass a writing proficiency exam to get your Master's in Public Policy?" He said, "Well, yeah, how about your Master's in Public Administration?" Hmmm. I think I know how to write an impact memo. Oh yeah, and a report. And a grant, apparently, since I've done four big ones successfully so far. Everyone else here can do it all as well. We didn't complain about US having problems communicating, we complained about the ADMINISTRATION.
And since when do I need to S.M.O.G. my reports for CEO's of banks etc.? Those are they people on our lazy ass board of directors. They don't care about me either, and why should they? They are 12. Another miscommunication; I just didn't know the board were a bunch of 12 year olds.
You know, I wouldn't make fun of this agency so much if I hadn't gone to the Executive Director and said "Help me, they funded me for $43,000 when I asked for $100,000 and was originally flat funded at $55,000 which is the same amount as last year and it wasn't enough to build capacity. But now I am only funded for 9 months on a 3 year County contract. That your agency owns. Help me. Advise me." And they said "Well, you can't get money to continue only doing what you're doing, but you can add another component or two to your work."
Only doing what I'm doing?
Ah, so we are not tapping into the general fund, apparently, to keep my program on.
Components are for stereo systems. And it's not a 6th grade vocabulary, no matter how intriguing. I meant, "interesting."
Where would that extra component or two, (worth approximately $10,000) fit? Exactly? I already cannot do everything agreed on in the contract. I already do as much as one person can do. My original budget required a part time person and a volunteer program. I didn't get it. I do everything. But I am supposed to do all of this stuff for less money than all last year, which was a poor year, and do it RIGHT and PERFECTLY??? Plus, this agency gets a cut, but doesn't help me get grants? Even though they have a full time fundraiser for their administrative costs? Fuck Them.
I want out, no typos.
Recession Junction, what's your Function? Want Ads, here I come.
Tuesday, July 16, 2002
I'm going to throw up. Had a suspicious looking subway sandwich. I thought "This doesn't taste quite as nice as the regular chicken sandwich" but it was small and I ate it. I dunno. It could have been the chips.
A sense of humor My pal moe made some interesting comments. Basically, she concludes there are some parts to relationships that cannot be modified because they are essential parts of each person instead of transitory influences or other arbitrariness and random assignment of categorical personality flaws. It's pretty fascinating if you think about it.
Dog People vs. Cat People
Morning People vs. Night People
A shared sense of spirituality, or lack thereof
A shared sense of humor
But then there's me. I am a dog AND cat person. I am a morning AND night person. In fact, I often have a stress caused insomnia, and until the 2nd day, I'm fine. I can go for a long time without sleep. I hate the mid afternoon, though, that's when my energy really flags. Once it goes beyond 48 hours of no sleep, I am doing poorly, and after 4 days, I'm a zombie, but generally 2 days of awake is a good thing.
I waffle between spritually attuned and not. I don't care enough. I am of the opinion that it only matters once we are dead, and I really like being alive, so I'm just not too worried because I figure the joke will be obliteration of self awareness, total nothingness. Christian heaven would be pretty boring, though. So would Christian hell, the two after death experiences I've been indoctrinated with, and I don't care for them a lick. Though if I have my druthers, everyone would be honest, productive, and take naps when they need to. People would enjoy life, not rush through it. Everyone would be decent and not run red lights (or back into pedestrians crossing with the light). Everyone would be able to express themselves without others getting offended, because opinions are opinionated after all. I don't want a perfect world. How freakin' boring would that be? Soooo blah. ugh.
I will add: neurotic vs. non neurotic. I am neurotic on many levels of worry. But so are most of the people I know. I love it when I meet them, they make life interesting. I hope I make life a little more interesting. Non neurotics keep you grounded. I like that as well. But can we live together and share beds??? Hmmm...They would have to make room for my dog at the foot. And my cats.
So basically, I suppose I could have been a contender in the marriage game. I'd get along with a lot of folks, I suppose. But I'm not married and will likely never be. Because even with all my niceness, I'm pretty hard to get along with for long periods of time.
And it's probably because I am thoroughly and unabashedly weird.
~Amelie qui fait dormir cinque heurs pour l'effet mieux
Monday, July 15, 2002
I'm pretty bored. My roommate keeps bugging me to move my boxes out of the living room. I absconded with a big glass of juice into the computer room. It's nice and cold outside, Amelie Weather. Every window in my house is open and fans are circulating. Want to know how cold? Chilly. Nice. Early 60s easy.
And I am fixing linkages. And checking emails. And reading other blogs. And finding funny photos. And reading about the GOPnot liking the HIV+ South African Muppet. A story circulated by Reuters, but I can't find it anywhere except Yahoo. Nice. Anyway, it's a good story. Here's why it's so interesting...
So basically the gist is, Republicans think 2-4 year olds do not need exposure in any sort of way to anything related to diseases you can get from blood. However way you get it, the vector is blood. Little kids apparently do not need to care about muppets with diseases. Muppets are puppets; they are not people, but they look enough like them that kids can relate. I grew up watching Bert and Enie hash it out in twin beds, and I firmly believed that someone besides Big Bird would eventually see Snuffy. And I would have felt really bad for a muppet with diabetes who had to give herself shots every day, or a blind muppet with a service dog muppet. I don't know about respect, I didn't have much for anyone. But a little compassion? I'd have had it for the muppets. I'd have felt it for the kids I met who had the same problems as the muppets. You're thinking, "who cares?" right???? You're right. No one cares.
And I know way too much about Africa due to my job. For example, there are 34 million people in California. There are 1.5 million people in the greater Sacramento area. There are about 2 million total living north of sacramento from coast to border. That's 10 percent of California, the biggest state. In South Africa, 10% of the entire living population has AIDS. And they have more people than California. Not just HIV, but advanced HIV disease. Even more have HIV, and they spread it mainly through heterosexual contact. Due to a regular distaste by the rest of the world to know just what is going on in other parts of it, there is not much interest in whether entire tribes are wiped out, and the rest pretty much ignore human rights atrocities. Like: genital mutilation (so easy to catch HIV from unsanitary broken glass used on many girls), also the myth that having sex with virgins will cure you, leading to rapes of young girls, who also bleed. And catch HIV. And women who have had their genitals scar bleed more during sex, so they pass it on to their non-rapist partners relatively easily (plus, come on, how fun can sex be when you are covered in scar membranes and all the nerves were ripped out? Not fun. Not lubricated. Very torn, very raw, very bloodbourne pathogenic. yeah, you thought it only happened in North Africa, I know. But it's up and down the West Coast, and deep inland to the middle continent, and pretty much all down the East coast from Eritrea to Mozambique). Anyway, there's no way to know how many people have it, until they get sick, because the tests are expensive. Don't get me started on the medications for keeping peope alive. That's like everyone from Sacramento north being on their deathbeds, and that's my conservative estimate. 70% of the country of Botswana is under age 20. Why? Because everyone else died of AIDS. Want to know where the next horrifying war will REALLY start? With cranky kids who have already seen everyone around them die, and who have no access to medical care, and who don't care what happens to them. And no one will stop them, or will be able to, but I digress. So, the muppet in S. Africa could serve a good purpose; increasing compassion. But what I really think will happen is that these little kids will say "Wait a minute, the muppet gets antiretrovirals, but my mom died when I was 4??? What's that all about?"
~Amelie la cynique
My roommate is snoring. Loudly. I thought it was the radio. Wow! I'm going to tell her tomorrow when she wakes up.
Oh my god! It's the woman next door! Jeez louise!
is pretty funny. But it's in portuguese, so you might need this 4:53 PM
The Angry Amputees are playing this coming Sunday at Old Ironsides for a fun afternoon of crazy kids jumping around.
Why do I know this? because. They told me.
Also playing: Secretions But I did not know that for sure till today.
No, you don't need to care.
But I'm still going.
well, my template changes won't publish and I can't figure out what I changed. crappers.
This weekend was pretty damned good. Though my dad is pissed at me. I forgot what I did on Friday already, I'm sure someone else will pound me for forgetting because I'm pretty sure it was fun. Oh yeah! we almost got hit by a car (thanks for the reminder allykat)! But we thankfully survived. Poor Ally, she thinks she needs anger management classes because she sreamed at the guy. NOT EVEN. All I can say is "Thanks for screaming at him, woman!" He would have kept going if she hadn't piped up in alarm and fear. Me and Seamas would have been roadkill, and Allykat was wearing a white shirt! People in Sacramento cannot drive safely. It's a little known fact. All are pretty much idiots. Except me.
Saturday was spent watching Cry Baby (I forgot Iggy Pop was in it till I watched it again) and then my roommate Shunana, Ally, and I headed out to some outlets near where my dad's band was playing at a picnic. We shopped until the appropriate time to watch him (I found shorts! Hurray! One pair is a hysterical bright pink and I intend to wear them around Erica as often as possible just to drive her nutty) but when we got there, the band was still doing a soundcheck. For 90 minutes. There were maybe 6 or 7 guitars? My poor da. He tried out his bagpipes and they sounded great, but it was taking FOREVER. He's mad because I took my friends and left at 7 ish. We finally had to leave to get food (at Sunflower Drive In, yummy nutty tacos and other veggie foodies).
Then we met up with our friend we met at a wedding (super cool chica, so patient with craziness!!!) and went to see a photo exhibit for 2nd Saturday. Sacramento galleries open up and feed you wine and cheese on the 2nd Saturday of the month from about 6-9. A little known fact, but very fun to tramp from gallery to gallery and get hammered. And see art. I ALWAYS get to the sculpture and installations gallery too late, dammit. Anyway, the photo exhibit was full of gals I know and love, their beautiful faces (and pictures of them in naughtier poses as well) were all over the walls. In fact, all the subjects present wore a tiny little shirt that said "I built the wall". It was great! MichG bought a beautiful one for her bedroom, I will have to visit and see it up.
Later that night, we went to a karaoke bar after getting thrown out by the cute bartender at the Fox And Goose who was mean to me but said "Have a nice night" as if that makes up for the fact that cover charges at bars for viewing crappy bar bands REDUCES MY PRESENCE TO ZERO. Anyway, a dance after my double whiskey sour and half of Ally's, we left the Karaoke bar and said goodbye to our friends (Hello, PhG can SING!!! and DANCE!!! It was not too shabby a night!) and I went to bed because...
Sunday, 8 AM, I went fishing with a serious bass fisherman. It was GREAT! His boat was sooo fast, I was laughing but I couldn't get it out because the wind kept hitting my face. I LOVED it. I didn't catch anything, though I have a picture of him kissing a smallmouth bass that I need to get developed, but I got a nice tan on my legs. I loved it all so much, I dragged him back to my house and made....Hamburgers!
The Meat Cloud kind that are really big and look "handmade". Like Clouds in a Charlie Brown cartoon. They were imported. From Canada. I highly recommend
Okay, Canadians. Does your exported beef have BGH in it? I keep saying "It's from Canada. No bovine growth hormone." But I could totally be lying.
~Amelie la Hamburguesa
My friend Dre played tonight. She's sleeping on my brother's bed right now, passed out because she's exhausted from working all day at a boys and girls club, and then playing to a packed house. The girl is good, if you are at all into folk.
This is all I could find on her from the CA NOW conference, but I think we need to start her on a blog o'her own so she can track her progress. GAMH on August 25, I believe. Cool, non? She's good! 12:31 AM
Friday, July 12, 2002
Interesting article on how Anita Roddick was Gagged By Google This was pretty funny
And this woman is being nice about my band/film idea...
It's been a decent day. It rained today, a little. But the drops never hit the ground because it's about 95+ degrees out.
My coffee WAS decaffeinated all that time...ugh. Luckily I didn't go into full withdrawals, just the sick and dizzy. When junkies ask me "What's your drug of choice?" I always say "coffee." And they laugh. But it's true. I'm sure I'd be into meth and coke if I tried it, so I never did.
I need to see the chiropractor for my dumb old neck, but I'm embarrassed because I never called them back and missed two appointments in a row. Bad patient.
Thursday, July 11, 2002
I just put the word out that I'm interested in starting up something like Reel Loud here in Sacto. I'm not saying that I'll ORGANIZE it, but I'd be part of a planning and review committee. Oh screw it, I'd be up for organizing it.
Now we just need some Sacramento based short filmmakers cuz we've got lots of bands...
Wish List: 3 Bolex Super 8 cameras or H 16 will do the trick too, new or used, and quite a bit of film, and JLG cuz I'm thinking about film, music, and SB and that's what she's all about...
I have been so dizzy lately, but I think I figured it out. My best friend moved out of her house, and I moved in. She left coffee in the freezer. I've been drinking it. But you know? I am still tired till I have a coke or something. So, I had two cups of it french pressed this morning, and checked it to see if it's decaf. But it just says Starbucks/xmas blend. It tastes okay, but I don't get that feeling of absolute clarity and well being like after I have regular columbian supremo joe. So, I had another cup of regular joe, and lo and behold, I'm awake. And productive. And my heart is beating strong. And my thymus gland is obviously working, cuz my blood pressure is good. And my speech coherent (I've even been having trouble forming speech, my dears. That's how addicted I am). And I'm really feeling okay even though everything is a bit of a shambles work wise (boss still in hospital. He's the NICEST guy ever, and if you pray cool. If not, send him good thoughts. His name is Joe and he rocks.)
Anyway, I swear, I have been so dizzy, spinning rooms and whatnot, this week I had to go home on Tuesday for a nap, couldn't drive to a meeting, and basically almost fainted. I am a CAFFIENE ADDICT. I can't think of anything else that's going on with me. And lack of coffee, genuine caffiene, would probably throw me for a loop. Obviously.
Also, caffiene loss has been throwing off my sleeping patterns, and I lost a day. I thought today was Wednesday. All day yesterday I was going along on the premise that it was Tuesday. So, I tried to get my garbage cans out this morning once I realized what day it actually was (as they come on Thursday and are cranky), but they'd already gone by. They saw me try to put my can out, and HONKED at me. Cuz I am a stupid idiot. With no real coffee in me yet.
Wednesday, July 10, 2002 What my dad said to cheer me up...(aka, what happens when doctors get bored and can play 4 chords) Me:I so want to announce it! Dad: no announcements mom says hi
like, "My dad is in a band of professional working geeks. They started a cover band. They are indie and alternative because they are so old and decrapitated. AND my dad plays electric bagpipes. Dig." Hi mommy! We got a drummer named Speed who looks about as old as my dad who needs help carying his drumsticks and walks slow
Wow, Speed sounds AWESOME. I am so going to brag about you..
well he keeps good time and once played with buddy rich.
Awesome, da. I think maybe you should hear us first
you probably suck enough to get on MTV Total Request Live. I hope this rap has gotten your spirits up. Wanna be our manager? The moneys the shits but there's no end to free medical advice
It's going to be 114 degrees today. It's already 79. I am dizzy, been so since yesterday when I found out Ally was laid off in a really shitty way. She just pointed out that sack is insensitive, and now that I read it again, I see her point. But I don't think the dizziness is necessarily related. I think it's a combo of stressful events. My favorite boss? The one I'm always talking about? He's been in the hospital since Monday night. Apparently dying of congestive heart failure He's the only reason I've stayed this long.
I'm going to cry, what a rotten bloody awful week.
Someone email me a funny story.
Tuesday, July 09, 2002
Some things to think about. My friends and I have been talking about the alarming issues surrounding little known breast cancer causal or correlating factors.
And while I agree that we could cut back on antiperspirant use (as bathing is goooood), I'm not so keen on giving up my underwires just yet, and I don't wear them that often (I don't feel "constricted" or short of breath, they're not tight, and I don't believe in "Chi"). And pesticides are nearly impossible to avoid, so what do you do? Not eat? Spend your rent on organic foods?
I think this author also missed an important underacknowledged factor in actually DYING of breast cancer: poverty and being a member of the working poor. There are very few chances to get checked/get early detection when you have a double shift every day. And while I think avoiding things that are potentially dangerous, most of the biggest risks are hard to avoid (exposure to estrogenlike chemicals). Additionally, women just plain old live longer nowadays, and we see more diseases as we become more prone to getting them. I'm not so worried about getting it, I'm worried about dying from it.
I am more worried about the increases I've been hearing about in prostate and testicular cancer lately (as I am cultivating male friendships and therefore have more people in my life who can get these cancers), I guess I've been hearing about the scariness of breast cancer all my life (as I have a genetic propensity to reach the boob-free zone by age 45: 1 grandma, 3 great aunts, 2 aunts on the maternal side). Funny, because as a hypochondriac, you would think I would be all over the breast cancer issue. But it doesn't really scare me as it should. Maybe if my mom got it. But then, she's been hiding that she's a diabetic for over a year now and that actually pissed me off. And I don't think I'm going to get diabetes unless I stop moving and eat a lot of snowballs.
We'll see how long it lasts, but I'm going to try to eat organic veggies (as it controls for a lot of things I can't fix environmentally) and use my DK Cashmere Mist (I highly recommend even though it's expensive) antiperspirant (and hey, mine's KOSHER!) on weekdays. Lordy, I will never again have a friday night date....
"Don't drink don't smoke? What do you do?" answer: eat a shitload of homegrown broccoli, apparently.
I want to visit because I have been entranced with this city since I watched a profile of the mayor of that moment, Jaime Lerner, in 1999. Actually, he may have been governor of Parana at that time. It's a progressive city ecologically speaking, and they came up with some interesting ways to combat disease, flooding, poverty and pollution. I've read a lot about it, it's a draw for ecological architects, artists, economists, and gals about town. Although it's not a very democratic city (oh no!), they have made a city so livable that when people say "I'd never live anywhere but the USA" I say, "Why, let's go to Curitiba."
More things to love: Opera house is built with discarded telephone poles. City is an urban forest surrounded by planned park (they took the money the country gave them to build dams to reduce flooding, and they expanded their waterways to allow shallow flooding. This caused more water sport activity, fishing, and recreational spaces to occur. Also, lawns. Which are hard to mow, so they said "Hey poor people, here are sheep. They are yours. Take care of them. Use the wool. Shepherd them all over the parks." And now Curitiba is also known for sweaters that have purchased homes for the homeless. Indeed, the slums now have a food for garbage exchange, and the recycling system has been enforced since the 1960s as has been the rules and fines around tree removing.) The pedestrian part of the city is 20 square blocks of residential and merchant spaces. The suburbs are connected to the buslines, the buses run every 1.5 minutes and are the only bus line currently on the GLOBE that is totally unsubsidized by any sort of governmental support. Also, they have a very creative community of diverse ethnicities, alternative lifestyles, cultures, and musical festivals.
I know almost as much about Curitiba as I do about Sacramento. They could be sister cities if they tried. We are surrounded by rivers and floodplains. We are the Capitol city. We have diverse cultures and are the stop off for many of our poor. Unfortunately, we are not progressive.
So why haven't I moved to Brasil yet?
I still need to learn Portuguese.
Neat neat neat... J got me started blogging and he created a monster. People, I am HIGHLY influenced by things that require me to be distracted at work, so don't give me any ideas. I repeat, do NOT give me any fun ideas.
Kidding. Because I recently calculated how much I'd get in unemployment pay and it is DEFINITELY worth it to get fired.
Unfortunately, I could pick my nose and cuss and they still wouldn't fire me. They'll wait till my contract is up and say, "okay, see ya." And then, I won't get anything except my vacation pay. Depressing, non? But then I'll head to Curitiba and learn Portuguese.
Okay, we moved last week. You know this. And I put Todd: The Cat Who Bites (and was formerly mangled on the head, check archives) outside our new house with a pillow and some food and water thinking, "Well, if he stays great. Who else is going to feed him in the old neighborhood?" And this is Todd, the aforementioned mangled kitty who bit the crap out of my hand causing me to go on Rabies watch with Sacramento County. Todd, the one who actually belonged to my ghetto neighbors who wouldn't take him to the vet when he was practically dying.
Todd, the cat that growled when you touched him and my vet was afraid to inject with tapeworm ridding droncit due to his crankiness and surly behavior, fangs exposed. Todd. The Mutilated Kitty. With the funky rib problems that caused lots of weird bone indentations (these have gone away since he started getting vet care and food, funny how I've never actually seen a starving cat and thought his issues were because the animal was deformed).
Well, he loves it here. Loves. It. And he has warmed up to the neighborhood inhabitants and visitors. Someone tried to take him from the front yard yesterday, but we said "No, he's ours. His name is Todd." She told me the funniest story about Todd hanging out and hamming it up at the local bistro, and they give him a plate of salmon and a bowl of water, he sprawls on their outdoor bench and everyone stands around him ooing and ahhing. Additionally, he travels across the street to the thrift store and installs himself inside near the air conditioner and the front door to greet people. He is the official ThriftStore Greeter. And apparently there was a funny incident with a dog. That Todd chased down the street in front of 20 spectators. Friday.
When I came home from walking my dog yesterday, someone had put a collar on our outdoor kitty that said "Tom". We were laughing because they misheard me, obviously my neighbors who I'd outed myself to as the wandering kitty's official caretaker. Well, "Tom" has a fan club. Regular restaurant goers already know him well, and they come to my house to pet him WITH THEIR CHILDREN calling out "Tom, Tom, here kitty kitty" and that cat goes RUNNING to meet them. This is the cat that bit the crap out of me, remember?
I just watched him let an 8 year old girl manhandle him in the grass. He flipped over and exposed his belly.
There must be something in the water here. Scrappy Kat turns Kitten.
And the other thing is that my other cats are NEVER going outdoors here. They are even better than Todd and will be stolen immediately. Especially Wingnut, as he's so majestic looking.
Saturday, July 06, 2002 A Taste Of Sacramentoes... "Aaron knew it was dog food. We all knew it was dog food. It smelled like rancid meat left in the sun for three days wrapped in unwashed jock straps. The only sensible thing would be for Aaron to walk away and forget about the whole thing.
The bastard ate his cracker."
The Food Is Grate The Staff Is Fine Today was Pancake Circus. Moe and Erica have been dying to go. Erica kept bouncing in her seat till I kicked her. Actually, it is fun to go there with people who are THAT into it. I have to admit, the pancakes were fantabulous. Moe took pictures of her banana pancake pile.
Erica and Moe liked it so much, they bought Tee shirts. They were very gleeful. Ally got a waffle as she's not as into pancakes. There's a chicken and waffles place on north watt we will have to drive out to eventually.
Then we walked my dog and found a duck with an afro like don king. While we were pondering his parentage and obvious lack of girlfriends, we heard a car accident. It was a jeep and a compact. Of course, we walked home that way so we could see the damage better.
After a fun morning, we parted ways with much hugging and laughing. Erica and I went to Tap Plastics as we are going to build a volcano in her yard. Should be exciting. We bought the chicken wire, and pondered the advantages of fiberglass and plastic foaming agents. I think we are going with chicken wire and foam, but we'll have to work quickly. We may need more "sculptors", whoever helps better have clothes they don't give a crap about. I am thinking if the small one goes well, we'll build her a carport out of it.
Since we were on the subject of sculptures, and were in the south area, we drove down Power Inn Road to seek out a place I once "trespassed on" and nearly got myself "Shot." It's a big piece of land tucked between apartment complexes. Some old guy decided to build fiberglass sculptures. There's a pigdog, an alien yellow man, a kitty, and further back a woman type figure. In need of paint. Also there appears to be a teapot. These are all giant sized, over 2 stories most of them. In front are fiberglass signs saying "go away you are unwanted" and "Get The Hell Out Or Be Shot". Additionally, there appears to be a large place to store llamas or small horses. It is a run down property. The gates are made of old wagon wheel frames. I need to take pictures and post them. I know this.
We also went to a place where you design your own floor out of stones, chunks, and whatnot. I am desperately trying to get Erica to agree to poured cement with epoxies and chunks with a drain in the center where she can just hose down everything into. she is not going for it, as there is plumbing involved.
And now I'm sunburned and full of diet coke. I need to get out there to the construction zone and bring my extra chicken wire so we can build a mock up volcano. Tonight is also trash film orgy and we have zombie dog costumes with which to outfit our pups on July 27, watch out!
Okay, I spend way too much time with Erica. This is why I have no dates, all my female friends are more fun.
I feel like a horrible bad bad friend. Abyssmal. I tried and failed.
But I was laughing so hard, I threw up 4 times tonight. And it was beer and ice cream and portobello mushrooms. That, my friends, is not funny. When you are laughing so hard, and your friends are laughing as hard or harder, you basically ignore the dirty looks and run out the back door to avoid anymore.
I went to see my friend's band play. I took my girlfriends. We were okay until the first band (not even HIS band) started. We thought it was a long soundcheck. Then the farting noises started. I tried to keep a straight face, but Erica laughed. And then Moe started. And then Ally stuck her fingers in her ears. We tried to wait it out. But we were laughing so hard our heads were in each other's laps and tears were ROLLING down our faces. Mostly because no one else thought it was funny and kept shooting us nasty "shut the hell up" looks. At US! The girls who brought food for the homeless! (Okay, I did that. It was my fabulous ploy to make people feed the homeless and also to clean out the minced clams from my cabinet.) See, we TRIED, you know? My friend's band wasn't even playing yet. It was just someone else's experimental noise. We had to leave. No way could we sit there and be disrespectful, but also, I couldn't get into the noises. I felt HORRIBLE. Compounded by the worst case of the giggles EVER. Absolutely awful. But the feeling of despair, it wouldn't last long enough to sober me up. I didn't just nearly pee my pants, I vomited from stomach spasms, laughing.
Earlier, before any music had started, and after my friend bought me a beer when he doesn't even drink.
I'm sorry Chad. I will make every attempt not to have a breakdown at your next show. I think I may have ADD because I definitely still have the giggles.
Thursday, July 04, 2002
I want these. They are better than what the aforementioned fashion police were bobbing along on at the parade today.
My birthday is coming up!!!
4th of July was grand. I can say this, as it started off with a fabulous pancake breakfast and good coffee hosted by those moes and their daddi-o. Ally, the Moes con G. (baker extraordinaire), and myself wandered on down to the main drag in Larkspur, a cute little town with a view of mt. Tam, and watched a parade like they used to have back in the olden times. Little kids on bikes (and this year, little kids riding the tiniest little razor bikes ever), old fire engines, the mayor waving aristocratically, and 2 bagpipe bands. There were also fashion police. Ally got a ticket, I think it was for "extraordinarily coordinated" (I'm thinkin' that means "nice tan, goes well with blue gingham" in fashion cop lingo). Then the women in black showed up. I've seen them before in odd places, but it was odder still to see a large group of "People In Black" bringing up the rear of the parade. Very solemn after boyscouts chucked candies at us from the back of a truck and a flatbed full of "Sweet Potato Women" dressed in green with big bosoms and long red hair gogo-danced to Peggy Lee singing "double u oh--- em ay en"...
We later had a fabulous bbq, where I ate too much potato salad and will probably regret it when I gain 3 lbs tomorrow. Ally and I bought jewelry in a park where Marin-ers were dancing happily to a cover band playing Blister In The Sun. We gabbed with a nice group of people from the bay area on the patio during dessert, and then I knew I had to pull myself away to take care of my dog. I drove home, got here in record time even though I managed to get lost leaving Larkspur. I decided my night would likely be boring alleviated only by the possibility of a drink with my pal Tammie, as I basically came home, walked my dog and thought about how I don't know whats on TV ever, and since I couldn't stay for fireworks in Tiburon as orginally planned. I was resigned to washing my car and maybe knocking back a beer with my pal Tammie. I waited. And then, Erica called.
She said "come over, we're bored." She was at Dave's house. I showed up with dog in tow (as he hates to be home alone during fireworks), thinking "Dave will have stuff to set on fire, that's the kind of guy he is."
And later, after much pressure and a couple beers, he brought out the firecrackers and bottlerockets. He nearly blew his foot off with a large cardboard tube that didn't work quite right as a mortar. Erica looked at me and said "He should set the flowers off in the toilet." I piped up and said, Put the" flowers in the toilet, Dave." Everyone looked at me like I was nuts, but I pushed it, "c'mon, do it." I trust Erica ideas, they are usually inspired, crackpot, and genius. Also, I figured she probably tried it and succeeded when she was a very young pyromaniac. We all crammed into the bathroom for the show. The first one was great, it spun around in the commode turning the water fun colors and smoking like mad. Those of us who crammed into the bathroom left happy. We went outside for some bottle rockets. Nothing caught on fire. We weren't drunk. The people on the corner had some good fireworks, we stood watching.
Erica said "He should do another flower in the toilet. This time, with shaving cream or mousse." Of course, I said it louder.
We headed to the bathroom again. Dave filled the toilet with shaving cream. Erica started giggling mischieviously. I shoulda known. The thing started to foam, and then bounced out of the toilet, spinning on the floor. I picked up my feet, but most of the other people got chased out of the bathroom by the spinning flower shooting off firey sparks. When the linoleum began to melt and the flames licked the wall, someone stamped it out.
We all looked at Dave and he shrugged, lit another flower, and dropped it.
This one worked. I can only describe it as a volcanic porcelain conniption fit. As if your toilet had a frothy tantrum.
I left firework fulfilled, thanks to Erica and Dave, two of the silliest people I know.
Another story about a client...
I have this client. She's lovely. She is also quite sad; middle aged, voice of a child, beaten/raped/(you name it, it's happened to her), and she suffers from severe dementia. Have no idea if it started with the HIV medication or if she was always mildly retarded. In any case, she shows up to appointments I never made and gets lost really easily on foot. Today, she showed up for an appointment with another agency, so I had to call and find the right agency. I then carted her over to the place she needed to be. I keep wondering what happens to the people I don't see, where do they go? How do they get there? I wonder if they are the people sitting on the corners looking sad and alone. It's possible.
On a funnier note, I answered a request to pick favorite punkety punk rock bands. I suddenly realized that, from the punk genre, I like mostly grrl bands. What does that say about me besides GRRRRRRRRRLLL? I actually cut some out so I didn't look too one sided. And I like older stuff as well, so it wasn't that difficult. Sometimes I had to think hard for favorite bands with men in them. I remembered a hard core one called Jara (after Victor Jara the chilean activist, oh my PCHC goodness). lordy, I was so lustful after the singer. yum. I think I might have stalked him, we'd have to ask my friends who knew me when I was obsessed. I asked him to have dinner with me once, and he kept hiccupping over the specially vegan meal I'd prepared lovingly. Then I made him go on a walk with me. I stood on a log and said "I'm taller than you!" thinking that it was the perfect time for him to grab me and get kissed, and he said "I know I'm short, lay off." punk rock deflation. He was born the same day as david bowie. I remember that.
Tuesday, July 02, 2002 Things I Learn By Reading Blogs There are places in this country where the simple fact is, you have no rights; especially if you're poor, and especially if those places fall under the jurisdiction of the supreme court. Effective now, you can be evicted because someone in your home used a drug or (according to this blogger) dabbled in some pot smoking. This of course is due to ridiculousness at the highest levels. Naturally, I'm the type who would easily pass a hair test, urine test, whatever, because I am ultra straight laced. Boring. You know I am. I'm all about wine and cheese. However, I am appalled that there are groups who can say, "goodbye granny, catch ya later, too bad your grandkid smoked pot he grew in the backyard" while we are all standing in line at the grocery store reading the headlines like: "Bush Twins Caught With Beer Bought At Bar In DC, Using Fake IDs AGAIN--Oh When Will Those Crazy Kids Learn To BEHAVE". I mean, come on. Self righteousness aside, as I don't care about the Bushtwins, Activate! Form Of: Stupid anymore than I care about the other countless dolts who had their parents pay for school and squeaked by on hangovers. I also know plenty of smarties who paid their own way and still got toasted. The principle of the matter is, people can be punished for choices their children and guests are making, while they themselves may be out working hard in their communities pinching and scraping to get into better rental housing, yet our own Head Of State lets his kids blatantly break laws and they are caught on film. No one's evicting him...seems dreadfully short sighted and fascist. To me.
~Amelie La Pensive
Monday, July 01, 2002 There's Been A Slide Change Of Plans... I heard my coworker talking about her horrible trip to hawaii. Not the actual part about being in hawaii, it was the getting there that was nutso. Her dad is sick in Hawaii, so they planned an emergency visit to see him.
Plan A: Monday: brother and sister fly from LV to Sacto to leave from Sacramento the next day with sister, straight into Honolulu.
Tuesday: Get to airport. stand in line for 3 hours. They finally get on the plane.
Suddenly, the air slide on the plane deploys. No one knows why (I think some kid pulled the door lock; hey, I almost did it on Saturday, I am that curious). Everyone has to disembark the plane. They are not told whether they will have another flight, or if this one will be fixed and ready to go soon. The airplane tries to borrow a slide from the airport. No go.
Plane ride is canceled.
The sibs reschedule everything. Now, they will leave Wednesday, and fly into LA, as compensation, Hawaii Air will fly the two visiting siblings back to LV instead of the route into Sacto, which was cheaper than a straight flight (which is why they came a day early to visit).
Plan B: Wednesday Get to airport 5 AM after having spent entire Tuesday in Airport. Plane arrives in LA. Flight out of LA? Canceled. And they stood in line while 10 other flights who were NOT canceled got to check in. 2 flights to Honolulu were canceled. The man in front of my coworker pulled out his videocamera, shoved it in his wife's face and said "Happy Honeymoon, baby! How's the Vacation Of Your Dreams holding out? Huh?" while tears rolled down her cheeks. They stood in line for 4 hours. They are rescheduled to fly out at 5:30 PM. This means they will only be able to spend 2 days with their dad instead of 3 or 4. They freak out at the thought of LAX for 12 whole hours, call their dad in a Hawaiian hospital, and he calls in some favors.
They get on a flight at 12:30 and arrive in Honolulu at 3:30 Hawaii time. They got to fly first class. And then they rushed back on friday, saturday, and sunday respectively. No one paid them back for the return tickets from Sacramento, but they're trying.
I think if the slide deployed, that's an omen that you should stay on the ground as far as I'm concerned.
And this, coming from the girl who likes to sit on the wings because the air foil turbulence reminds me of being on a train.