Friday, August 30, 2002
So, interview went okay. I hate saying "Great" because for me, it was not great. For me, it is a personal hell. I hate interviewing. That's all I'm going to say about that.
Actually, on the way to the interview I checked my mail. In it, another special delivery from Postcard X. Honestly, people. You need to register and send something too. It's beautiful! What did I get? A nice little CD compilation sent from Ann Arbor, MI in a "paper cd case" with a list of bands. (I have also recently received, since my move, packets of seeds for an herb garden, a postcard averaging 3/month from random people all over the globe, and even photographs of people's dogs and cats. Very cute. Makes you say "I wish I used snail mail more often, it's so nice!")
Why, here it is, online! Whattaya know!
Music for Monkeys (v 7.2) - May 2002 Some of the better cuts off this CD were: Rufus Wainright "Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk", Clem Snide "I love the unknown", and Rosie Thomas "Two Dollar Shoes". I mean, someone MADE it for me! AND folded up a paper to do it! I listened to it over the causeway going towards the interview. They are burning the rice fields again, it is very ugly when the farmers do that. I hear it's done because the ash is good self fertilizer for the next crop, but it's ugly.
I have discovered Bill Pay. I found out it costs me nothing. I am becoming quite adept at it.
Today is Regina's Birthday!!!! We Love You, Boo!
Happy Birthday Old Lady! (I have already called her at dawn to sing her my version of Happy Birthday, with the cracky voice action. Yeah.)
Also today: Job Interview.
Ruben says I have it in the bag. No one knows what I'm like in an interview, though. My heart sits in my mouth and I can hear it/feel it pumping, see my hair around my face shaking from the pumping...
I say things like "No. I don't have any questions. Oh, wait! What are the benefits like?" I say things like "No, I have no applicable experience." Forgetting everything I've done in the past. Like they are supposed to know the minutiae of all of my jobs.
Why they don't take me out for a coffee and some pasta, I don't know. I'm much better over dinner than answering a panel of cranky people in a board room. And really, that's the person I am. The pasta and coffee lady who can joke and talk and work with the people on a level they understand, plus you only really get to know your coworkers after you've seen them eat.
But no. It's always a test in a cold sanitary room. "How many times did she say "innovate" and how many of the items on our checklist did she hit?"
And then they don't hire me because I've flubbed up and said something like "Actually, I'm not that interested in this job. Thanks for the practice interview!" *SuperStar*. No, I really did that. At OCJMP (office of criminal justice planning), where I'd be great.
Thursday, August 29, 2002
Road Rage. It's been a topic of conversation today for me. My friend Kim told me about a situation she had last christmas (once again, at a mall, the icky icky mall, I hate malls. Especially at Christmas.)
She said: "It was really crazy and very busy and crowded. I saw an SUV and she was sitting there, in the left hand lane. I figured she was being nice and letting me in, since I had my blinker on to get into the lane. I pulled in front and waved and thanks. Suddenly, I heard an engine gun, and this big green SUV was behind me. She was screaming and yelling. I could hear her. I pulled up another 5 feet, and she gunned up behind me again, on my tail. I turned to my friend Liz who was looking back too "what is going on, Liz?" she shrugged, a little spooked. I moved up again, and the woman behind me gunned up and screamed some more. I pulled the parking brake, and opened the car door. I saw her rolling up her windows and heard her doors lock, and she looked scared. I got back in the car. I said "Liz, be patient." And I sat there, letting cars turn in front of me. I let about 20 cars pass me before I made the left turn. I figured the woman behind me could just wait. Liz told me, "If she had a gun, she'd shoot ya." I said "Yeah."
Why do people get so retailatory? Why do they get out of their cars? What makes it okay to honk and scream at and intimidate people who are in front of you? I just don't get it.
I may complain about traffic, but I don't harp on it. So, you're in traffic. Big deal. Turn on the CD you love, spray some cologne, open your windows (or turn on the AC), and put your car in neutral. If it's that bad, get off the road and go have a coke. Jeez louise. Leave early so you get there a little early for appointments and job interviews. Don't worry about being late, call and say "sorry, in traffic. I'll be there when I get there." That's life nowadays. Folks generally understand; if they don't, they ain't yer friends. What they don't understand is why people rush around, freak out, stress, and then kill other people. It's nutty.
The zen of driving: No One Cuts You Off If You Aren't Going Too Fast.
Of course, I hate when there is a protected left turn light, and the person at the front of the line isn't going because they are a stupid idiot. But you just honk gently to remind them. Not blaring, not mean. That's it!
And on another note,
My friend writes me an email about a dream I was featured in....
"had a dream last night with you in it. we were in lake elsinore eating
at a restaurant. you had some friend who was a lawyer we were eating with and i
couldn't calculate the tip because the money we left was made out of
nutter butters. yeah, whatever..."
Okay, the funny part is that I think I had the same dream only we were in Lake Tahoe. Oh, and the money was Nilla Wafers.
Weirdish things about yesterday:
I lobbied Grantland Johnson and Michael Montgomery (Chief, State Office Of AIDS) for AIDS Drugs Assistance money. I think I went off on a tangent on targeting prevention funding, I started babbling about how Sacramento has one of the BIGGEST intravenous drug user populations in California, and how we don't have a state of emergency announced nor a legal needle exchange program that can be legally funded.
I went with a group of other people. I never say what I really want to say when I talk to people in power. They were right across a conference table from me. I never say "Do this". I just sound like a raving loon. There were worse presentations, though. What I found out: all healthcare subsidies in California will be cut by 25%. In fact, all programs in California will be cut 25%. In fact, I think the only things that are safe are cops/prisons and teachers. That's it. Transportation, public works, museums, healthcare and social services will be cut 25%. For the first time in years, California stateworkers will see layoffs. How many? They are being told to reduce by 6000, possibly more. 6000 people! In State Work! Does that not scare you? And guess what else? They are projecting 3 more years of layoffs and cuts. Nice, non?
Tried to watch Queen of the Damned last night. You know what? It was pretty much bleck. Don't rent it. At all. I had a headache and was basically watching movies last night while everyone else went out to play pool and drink beers with Dre, my favorite fledgling 21 year old (in the bday card I gave her was a $5 bill for cab or beer, 2 aspirins, and a B vitamin. Because I KNOW what it's like to turn 21.) So I stayed home. Watched Princess And The Warrior as well. You know what? It's trying too hard to be German. You know what I mean. Flat-affect in the acting (okay, I SAW run lola run and loved it, but I think it was the ticking clock and the melding stories), this was bleak with beautiful scenery and needful hope. Sort of nihilistic. Trying for the magical realism of South American stories, but not quite there.
Woke up easily this morning. Must've been because I refused all stress last night and lolled about watching movies. I jumped out of bed and remembered the garbage truck. Yep. Today is garbage day. I ran around the house collecting trash, and then I hobbled outside barefoot in my pjs to park the recycler and the trash on the street. I think my garbage man liked my bedhead because he said "Nice Hair." Hi. Yeah.
And then, walking back into the house, I found a dead bird on the step, killed by a cat and left as a present. Not mine, mine were all indoors with the exception of my missing outdoor kitty. I picked the little thing up, a chickadee, poor little thing. It was still warm. I buried it in my lavender bed. I am wondering if Todd has come back??
I'm glad, but I don't know how a state bill can override a federal change in law. But still, I'm glad.
It protects your right to choose, even if the federal gov't changes it's stance, and it protects privacy.
You have the private right to choose what you want to do with your own damn body, in California anyway. Wow! Novel Concept! Now we just have to figure out a way to keep the guy dressed like the grim reaper from jumping on cars with his blood bags. People are so precious.
I yelled out "AAARRRRGGGHHH" (yes, I actually pronounced it correctly) here in my little office. Because everytime I close a window, another banner ad pops up and when I go to close it by clicking on it, it moves and I hit the "ad" behind it. It's not because I can't use a mouse, either. It's an evil plot, is what it is.
So, I saw something disturbing on my way to work. And though I had every intention of waking up early and walking to work, I slept in that extra half hour, and drove. I am a lazy ass. But enough about me,
I saw something disturbing.
I did a quick assess from my driver's seat as she passed me on the crosswalk. A woman, quite nice looking in general, hair up, ringlets falling, flowy romantic type work clothes (you know, the gauzy poet shirt thing, sandals, short body skimming wrap skirt with a high side tie...she lifts her arms to fix her hair and bares her side torso...no, not a side tie),
oh my god.
This woman had a pair of thong panties riding impossibly high above her hip bones, a low faux-wrap skirt (summery colored, printed, not my style at all), and an obvious THONG BAND showing on BARE SKIN. This is work attire nowadays? Who does she work for, Clinton?
And I am not conservative. I like sexy work clothes. I WEAR fairly sexy work clothes, and I work in non profit. I am just disturbed at this new trend, where women go to malls and to work (apparently) dressed like they are going dancing at a meat market. What's next, casual friday with camel toe jeanswear and crop top midriff baring backless halters? What the hell is wrong? Is it just me that thinks people who want to wear very bare clothes to work ought to look for work at a swimming pool? And the scariest part was I thought, "Yeah. Great." And accepted it with no shock whatsoever.
Here I thought I was so smart in my mid calve long summerweight hipskimming cotton, quite blue flat fronted pencil skirt (full hip and belly coverage, thank you very much) and black standard rather tight tee shirt with the very square neckline. And my ever present mary janes. I thought "why, I look sharp and perhaps even sassy. Saucy, possibly." Now I know the truth. Apparently, my panty lines are not showing enough. And torso skin. Need to bare that as well. It's the new thing, you see. The style.
I mean, really. What do you think about when you pull your thong panty deep into your ass crack, pull the band over the hipbone, up above the low riding waistline of your "work" skirt? What the hell goes through your head at 7:30 in the morning as you dress to clerk at a bank or what have you? "Hmmm...this is nice and thong-panty showing. Why, I think I'll wear that today. Yes."
That'll do, pig. That'll do.
~Amelie "Whatever Happened To Seersucker Skirt Suits" LaBonne
Friday was a birthday party where I paid too much and not everyone drank and only 3 people ate anything. When the check came, my brother volunteered me as the payer. Okay, for future reference, ALWAYS check the check for added-on gratuities. I just wrote out a credit card slip for $25 over the total, paying,as it turns out, over $45 in tip as the little bastard thought we were cheap and added on the gratuity himself. That "tip" equalled about 1/2 the check, actually. For 3 meals! I didn't figure it out, of course, till I was sober. Yeah. I better get fantastic service and a free drink next time.
My weekend also involved a wedding in a log cabin (not MY wedding! Those Moes...they got hitched!). At this wedding, I ate watermelon, danced the Virginia Reel and an Israeli circle dance, ate Comfort's Chicken Salad, and drank Lucky Lager (My riddle was "Out Of The Question" but I plum forgot to take a photo of the cap.) Also, for future reference, Lucky Lager is only good for a sip and a dawdle over the cap. Dump it out, and go back for the Sierra Nevada.
Sunday, ate some Merlino's lemon and blackberry freeze and Erica and I had to push Steve through a window as we got locked out (dratted roommate didn't hear me say "I'm goin' round the corner, don't lock up." Bought an album, J, you'll be happy to note, it was King's of Convenience. We fell asleep on the couch listening to it. It's pretty good. Erica bought The Cows. Yes, I thought it was funny that both reviews are in other languages.
Susannah and I sang happy bday to AllyKat. She's old. Send her good thoughts. We adore That Kat.
So, I took a load of pictures. And I cannot upload them. Digital camera IS working, though.
And my only question here is, what are the laws on eviction practices? Seems to me, a normal non criminal landlord would say "No Pets". If you move in with pets, you get evicted. If there is a pet deposit, you pay it. If your pets damage something, you pay for it. What is going on with the courts in Maryland? The guy KILLED TWO CATS and did it on purpose, for no reason. Because, hello, if cats damage property, you sue the owner to replace it. And you evict them before it gets too bad.
Here is an interesting article...from the Jewish World Review, June edition. My friend Pam emails me a lot of pro Israel propaganda. Sometimes I think it's great, and packed full of information. Other times I think there are questions that need asking and we don't ask them in the USA. I thought this was particularly interesting because it asked some insightful questions (and then went off into a tangent like I am constantly likely to do).
Why DOESN'T the "left" support Israel?
I think of Israel as a pocket of green in the desert. It was supposed to be a place of retreat and sanctuary, a place to regenerate. I've never been, but it looks beautiful and mediterranean. I know loads of people from Israel, second generation even, and they are all incredibly liberal. They don't like shopping bags to be left on the ground in malls, but that's about as touchy as they get. It's got to be scary to know people personally who have been blown up in dance clubs and markets. I think that's scarier than big planes hitting tall targets. (Okay, tangent: when they built it, the architects of the World Trade Center said "The honeycomb structure can survive a plane crashing into it". Hmmmm....what about the fire from jet fuel? Can the WTC survive THAT?)
I don't know any Palestinian folks personally. But I feel sorry for them. Sorrier for them than the Israelis. I cannot get a finger on the answer why, but I do believe segregation by religion is a horrible way to live, and I have to blame the Palestinian men for that. So, I guess I only feel sorry for the women. I think it must be horrible to live as a woman in such a community, especially the dreadfully religious (any religion).
As for the warring, I always think someone should jump in the middle and say "Dumbasses. What the HELL is wrong with you? NO ONE OWNS THIS. It's just dirt and sand and everything you build will eventually fall to dust. You only get to lease it for awhile. You only get to LIVE here. So, why not try LIVING?" Yeah. That's so brilliant. For a woman living in California all her damn life. What are they going to do, have an epiphany, shake hands, and surf?
I hate the word enemy. It must be a very disturbing way to live, on guard all the time.
Thursday, August 22, 2002
I about had a heart attack just now.
My old boss, who left over a year ago, came in to visit today. He was disappointed I hadn't come to see him at his new digs. He asked for some gossip, and a tour to visit old coworkers. I walked through the halls with him, and he found a coworker he wanted to talk to speaking with the Executive Director of my agency.
The third sentence out of his mouth after she said "Hi, we haven't seen you in a long time" was
"Yeah, I'm glad I made it in time now that I hear Amelie's LEAVING."
Okay, so you all know, I have not given notice. I have not found a new job, and my funding doesn't run out until after November. I need to leave in November so that I get all my vacation money. That's what it's like to be in a budget constraint in a non profit. I am in a bind. Everyone looked at me. I said "Well, I'm running out of money." But hello!
WHO DOES THAT!
Who says "Now that I hear She's Leaving!" in front of the ED? Okay? Oh man.
I about had a heart attack.
Once, a long time ago (okay, circa 1997? 1999?) I read an essay by a a woman named Rachel Leibrock. I liked the essay. It was so 21 Jumpstreet. She went undercover as a high school student to "gain perspective" (Okay, actually I cannot remember if the drew barrymore movie came out before or after this essay). Anyway, she went to classes for a month or something. Some of the kids figured her out.
I always think I could pull it off (the looking young/writing about teenage people), but I'm getting fat, and with the fat, sedate, and that doesn't seem very "high school". Does it?
So, here she is in all her glory, Writegrrl. She's lovely! I like her journal a lot too.
Wednesday, August 21, 2002
I had another weird dream. It didn't last very long, because I got virtually no sleep last night, but it was weird nonetheless. In it was one of these. It was really fat and bloated, and it burst, spilling white larval worm threads everywhere.
My friend Erica got mad at me for killing it, even though I hadn't touched the damn thing (well, I might have kicked at it), and for some reason she lived with me in the dream. I pulled up to the house after doing errands (Yeah, I know, AMAZINGLY interesting dream), and in the driveway was a pile of stuff that belonged to me. Also, the piano that came with the house was in the driveway, and it was broken.
My dreams have sucked lately, what can I say? The bug? A potato bug/jerusalem cricket. I hate them. They give me nightmares.
I didn't get much sleep last night at all. Just enough to dream a horrible dream and give me a headache. I was up 3X/hour trying to get my cat shabazz inside the house. He sneaked out around 10 and didn't come home until the sun rose. Of course, going through my head were thoughts of Todd and how he disappeared. Frankly, two missing cats would put me in a sanitarium right now. Especially if it was Shabazz, since there is no excuse not to call the number on his tag. I wonder if there's someone with a cat trap in this neighborhood? Maybe they only let the cats with tags out and take the others down to some pound I never thought to look in?
Tuesday, August 20, 2002
Oh. yesterday, Ally and I went to Erica's house for a celebration of her dog, Nitro's 4th Birthday. Nitro sported a "4" on her "4"head, and chowed down on some mint chip ice cream cake decorated with black and purple icing. We did not have a pinata like I was hoping, you should see dogs go after a pinata full of snausages.
We threw balls, frisbees, and kongs until well after 9 PM. Seamas had the sillies and tore around the yard, enticing the borzois to a chase or two. Nitro was prim and perfect. Chelsea rolled and lolled and chased balls. Poncho was up in arms.
No pregnant men showed up to halt the festivities.
This dog got so many treats and toys, I don't know what she'll do with them all. We brought dog treats shaped like hearts and a little purple and orange tennis ball with dog prints on it.
We ate pizza and beer and ice cream cake. So did the dogs.
Dogs present: Nitro the birthday girl; Seamas, Photon, Chelsea, Dot, Poncho.
Skunks present: Knuckles and Bracket
Cats present: Cucaracha, Squoosh, Moosh, and "Cat, the other white meat".
Rats present: Mini Ramp, Rector and 2 more I forget the names of.
Cockroaches present: too many to count, all in terrariums. bleck.
People present: Who cares about people? There were about 11 total.
Today I go to a long long mental health meeting where I say "My client requests that if he is diagnosed with something requiring antipsychotic drugs that he not only be informed of his diagnosis, but that he is told what to expect from side effects. If this doesn't happen, he will seek treatment elsewhere."
Today I am wearing black. Okay, that's not so unusual. Why do I wear a lot of black? Black pets, mostly. Also, it's so slimming.
Today I decided that September 11 should be a holiday. A holiday of reflection. And no flags. The symbol should be a still pond. And planes would be grounded in memory. And people would share food with their neighbors. And walk around visiting each other and giving gifts to strangers. Blocks should be sequestered off and children allowed to play in the street. Dogs can be off leash, and no one would drive cars and the stock market would close early. On this day. Also, everything commercial would be closed for the giant party and no one at all would work, so buy block party groceries the day before.
Today I decided that since nearly everyone I like is leaving this agency, I will look harder for jobs, apply twice as often, and will start a yahoo group dedicated to ex employee rants.
Very soon I turn 31. I hope I don't have a panic attack, as that's absolutely a possibility.
Monday, August 19, 2002
Email that went out on the LAN today:
I put my spoon on a paper towel on the counter to dry, today. When I returned 10 minutes later, it was gone and is nowhere to be found. The spoon is part of my silverware at home. Please return my spoon. Thank you.
Guess who had it? Me.
And here I thought it was the great spirit looking out for me and saying "Here Amelie, take this freshly cleaned REAL spoon and don't eat your yoghurt with that icky plastic fork".
trying to navigate the united airlines system...trying to get information about an old credit. See, I was going to cheyenne WY one year for xmas to visit with my best friend and her husband who were stationed there. I was going because she was due to have a baby that month. This is 2000. Then, she came to Sacramento for Thanksgiving (yay!). And had the baby here on December 1 (yay!). And there were problems (boo), and they got a transfer to Travis (yay!), and she lived in Sacramento again (Hurray!), the only good thing about her having birth problems. The baby is doing great, she's looking good, and he went off to officer training school, and was transfered again, making a move for the whole clan to las vegas (boo). but leaving the house open for me to move in to (yay!).
But there was a ticket that never got used. I canceled it, to the tune of a $75 penalty. And then I was told to use it within a year. But then, I called, when the year was nearing, and was told "It's good for whenever. You have about 350 worth of credit with us."
So my friends are getting married in Scottsdale. Originally, Ally and I were going to drive. But she can't drive a stick. I thought if we stretched it out, and went to LV, I could pull off driving all by myself. Then we realized it would cut into her school schedule. So then I said "I have this credit, maybe we can use it". Well, now they have no record of me having a ticket. I have to find my old ticket, I hope I kept it! The last time I called, they found me in the computer. Now they are telling me I have to provide ticket as proof.
~Amelie qui ne les fait excursions jamais
Sunday, August 18, 2002
Had the nicest weekend! How was yours?
Lil' Miss Moe had a bridal shower. It was in a karaoke booth with 7 other women, including her sister from Thailand and her cousin from Minnesota. That's a long way to come to sing "Sexual Healing" in a dark but (very!) decorated room. I knew there would eventually be another someplace to use the lights I bought for my housecolding party. I also brought wine, but no bottle opener, and had to borrow one from the house, where prominent signs said "NO ALCOHOL ALLOWED". I'm guessing it's not such a big deal, as the clerk helped me open the bottle.
Everyting was orchestrated by our own personal events planner, the Ally Kat Grrl.
Carrie, Moe's cousin, made a cake from a little doll. The doll was stuck in the middle of the skirt, a skirt made of chocolate mousse and iced with frosting. We all sang go go's songs and ate spoonfuls of it as the minutes for room use ticked away.
The best song renditions: Mandy, Jolene, Crazy (Let's go Let's go) and, (only because I managed to sing it loud and silly with Moe playing along) "Coal Miner's Daughter". yeah baby.
Lila gave her a monkey swizzel stick. The unfortunate monkey looks like a novelty sex toy. Her sister Kirsten brought various and sundry gifts from Thailand, including but not limited to nipple cream (to turn your brown nipples pale) Additional gifts from Thailand included loads of stationery and little address books with misspelled words in a very interesting rendition of english, I guess literal translations. For example:
Lovely day, oh my frind, you are so loved and happy. Sparkle! You day is fresh happy! Sodomy.
(please to note above is a many many such stationeries put together for your unusual joy and nice happy remembering for.)
I am spacing on what everyone else brought her. Mostly we were interested in the pizza.
Then, we went to a bar with a bigfoot standing over us and a "faux fire". I got smiley and took lots of pictures of the party attendees shaking their hair. Okay. Hair Hams. It was a pretty good send off for the "Moe Is a Whore No More" party girl.
Breakfast in Point Richmond. If you've never been there, you should go. It's so cute and quaint. It's got the feel of a seaside town, you know? Really damn cute.
I got to sleep with Ally, and I highly recommend it to anyone interested. She's very snuggly, steals no blankets, doesn't snore, and emits no foul gas. She barely even moves. Not me. My back was killing me for some reason and I recall waking up, stealing the blankets, trying to turn and get comfy on the really comfy floor thingy I've slept on so many times when my back is not killing me, I remembered thinking "Fuck this. I don't care if she wakes up, my damn back is killing me." Later, I found out her back was killing her too, and everytime she turned over, she thought I was waking up and was WORRIED about waking me. Okay, does that not prove I am a horrible person and Ally is overly NICE!?
If you ever see a bag of green corn chips, flavored with "real avocado", don't buy them. You will eat too many.
Friday, August 16, 2002
it has come to my attention that the best breakfast you can possibly eat is:
(drum roll, please)
An everything bagel with cream cheese and a 1/2 portion of smoked turkey with a big fat cup of coffee.
Why, that'll carry you into lunch.
I cannot believe I've been eating oatmeal every morning. What am I, a monk?
Thursday, August 15, 2002
You know what?
I may believe in God. Why?
Because of Shout Wipes.
You know how everyone says "if there's a god, why did he let that happen?" (and they usually mean the holocaust or some starving babies or a child death)? But really, why not extend it to "why'd he let that chicken slop down the front of my nicely laundered blouse?"
Well, I figure if god put people around to create Shout Wipes (and you need a supply in your desk for those messy terriyaki and broccoli lunches) for all the little messes, there must be something really big coming for all those other fuck ups. It just takes awhile. Look how long we had to wait for Shout Wipes? I mean, since the Dawn of TIME, hello.
Or maybe someone just figured out how to make wet wipes really potent and I don't believe in anything.
I'm in a much better mood.
If you stay up late and wake up early, it kicks you out of a depression. And apparently it works for pissy moods.
Only, I can smell something icky, and can't tell if it's from outside, or coming from ME. Maybe I'm actually sick, as one person has already pointed out.
The last time I got good and sick was around December 8. For 3 days, I was hyper, loud, and frenetic. I mean, OBNOXIOUSLY SO. Then, December 8 hit. I woke up early, felt off (but was very hyped), and helped shop for and decorate a house for my friend Jane's bday. I ordered an insanely big cake, bought dragons and other paper decorations from Wishing Well, and bought big steaks. About 40-50 people showed up to this particular party, most were drinking beer and cider from the kegs. There were 3 kegs. It was a kegger, but not like in college where they are filled with PBR. NO! It was dark, amber, and a really high quality cider. I had 5 beers, mix and match, and a glass of merlot. Washed it down with steak and kabobbed veggies. Drank water.
Around 2 AM, I was sitting on my friend's bed saying "I feel sleepy. The room is spinning."
I tried to go to the bathroom. But couldn't throw up. I went to Jane's bed and sprawled out on it. I could hear everyone saying my name and "She's really drunk". But i wasn't. I just felt toxic and sick. Not drunk. A friend named Julie (see? I totally remember everything) asked if I wanted a bucket. She brought me a stock pot from the kitchen. My sloppy drunken brother came in and told me how much he loved me. He was wasted. My friend Amoeba came in to check on me. I said "I think I need to puke." Then I filled up the stockpot. All the way. Like, 2 liters. Her eyes got really big, she said "Okay, I'll take care of this for you. Feel better." I was thinking (but not saying) "Flush it!" but no. She poured it down the sink in the bathroom. Remember the steak? All I heard the rest of the night was "Who puked in the sink? Oh my god!" But I just was tired by then. I spent two hours curled around a boy named Ron. I kept patting his back. I think 7 people were passed out on the bed around me by then. Around 4 AM, I decided I had to go to the bathroom. I couldn't get my pants undone. It took forever. I walked down the hall and asked my friend Carrie's boy-friend-at-the-moment to help me. He said "I'm gonna have to tear them." I said "Okay. Because otherwise I can't pee."
He tore my pants off. That's the only time that has ever happened to me. It's the kind of thing you wish you were totally sober for, so the experience was really THERE.
I said thanks and headed back into the bathroom. By then, I was totally sober.
I drove home and found my brother on the couch with some woman.
I crawled into my own bed and stayed there.
I woked up with a fever. I had the flu for a week.
Wow. Do not drink when you have the flu or are coming down with it, it just makes it worse. People think you are completely drunk. Drinking just isn't a big part of my life. Drunks are no fun. I hate being drunk. I just like alcoholic beverages. I like to be around sane people who are not puking. For the most part. Though I completely understand if someone does, you know, alcohol is poisonous.
Don't add visine to your beer.
On another note, watched three movies last night. It was hot, I was lazy, and I was in a pissy mood. What do you want, jumping jacks? The New Guy (sucks ass, though I had to laugh at 2 parts because they were so stupid.) It's edited strangely so that you are supposed to infer what is funny from the gestures and facial expressions. I need visuals for slapstick comedy, because HELLO, would larry, moe and curly joe and SHEMP, have been at all funny, had we not SEEN them poke each other in the eyes? I think not.
I also saw an HBO production of Spencer Tunick's Naked States. Thanks to Ally. It's a documentary from his Naked States tour 1997. What exactly does he do? well, he is the photographer that gets people to strip and lay down in the street en masse. Sort of guerrillaesque. Risky and risque all in one. I'd pose for him in a heartbeat. He photographed these amazing women. Ally and I were talking and women, even when they are obese, just look better naked than men. No offense. But men's bodies are so damn angular and hairy. Women have more flowing curves. That said, the best photos were actually of HUGE numbers of people, male and female, flat (some not so), splayed out, and completely naked. It's stark, and, ahem, bare. Naked. It's beautiful. See the film. One photo at a Phish concert looks like the trees that fell over afte Mt. St. Helen's erupted. It's funny, because at the time the trees were photographed, I remember thinking "That looks like grass." After I saw the people, I thought "That looks a bit like the trees that looked like grass." What? What's that, you say? Everything is derivative?
And then I watched Anniversary Party. Okay. I liked it a lot. It was late, I was in a good mood. If I had watched it earlier, I probably would have tried to strangle something. But I got through it okay. Lots of great acting. Hard to explain what it's about. It's about a party for a couple who were married 6 years before, and were separated for one of the years, only to be together for the previous 5 months trying to "work it out". The friends come over to celebrate that they are back together, but really, there's a lot of unrest. It's a good movie. I kept thinking "wow, they have amazing furniture." J, watch it for the furniture and the house design, at the very least. It's beautiful and modern and I liked it a lot.
Today, I sent an apology to someone for telling them to eat visine.
The pissiest. I can't even describe it, it's like a demonic scribble over my soul inking out the nice parts. It's just plain bad.
I'm gonna snap. A coworker announced she was pregnant and I said "Yeah? Great. Another one."
!!? What the hell! That's not me. I tried to make it nicer, I said "did you see the GE advertised ultrasound thingamabob? No? They didn't use that on you? Poor you. I hear they're phenomenal."
I told someone on a group list to drink visine in their coffee because I heard it helps you take an ego vacation as opposed to an ego trip.
I hope he doesn't do it. That would stop his heart. But did I tell him that? NO. I said "Try it and report back."
Nice. Hope he's not that dumb. Then again, I'm in the mood that goes "people too stupid to live probably shouldn't."
What the hell is wrong with me?
Jeez louise. I am going to have bad bad karma for today.
Tuesday, August 13, 2002 Update on the Police Report!!!
She asked me if I wanted to press charges due to his pushing his body up against mine (I know. Bleck.) and for the fact that he was spitting on me.
I pressed charges against this fat man who screamed at me at Erica's house on Sunday.
Guess what the weapon used to attack me is listed as???
I got a phone call last night with Juicy Gossip.
That rarely happens to me.
Usually I get a phone call asking me what I'm doing tonight. I never know that either.
Got Juicy Gossip.
I know I said I was going to forget all about this creepy guy from Sunday, but
Juicy Gossip said "GUESS WHAT I FOUND OUT?!"
The guy, who we already know is a freak, has had confrontations with other neighbors (and as the police department said, "why has no one called the police on him?" till me.)
AND recently, a carload of teen boys turned onto the street (~2 weeks ago). They must've realized they'd made a wrong turn, and tried to head back out. Only to be confronted, at night, by The Incredible Pregnant Man. He apparently pissed THEM off so much, that they, being teenage boys who drive, brought friends back to his house. That night. Carrying chains, "brass knuckles" and knives. They attacked his house, his cars, his windows had rocks thrown through them.
And then the boys ran. I do not condone any of this vandalism, but I do understand them. I mean, I'm 30, and I wanted to throw rotten eggs at his house every time I pass by. These boys should be arrested, though. They sound scary and outta control.
This pregnant man must have given birth in the past, because he apparently has a "disturbed" 15 year old. The boy has been spotted trying to play basketball alone in his grandmother's driveway (she is like Grandma Death in Donnie Darko and lives next door to her son, the incredible pregnant man, heretofore known as TIPM).
15 year old recognized one of the kids from the Day Of Rocks and Brass Knuckles. He beat the crap out of the kids younger brother. He is now in JH awaiting a felony hearing as this is not his first fist fight. And he is a disturbed youth. Did I mention that he is disturbed? Would you not be disturbed if your dad was TIPM?
So basically, Erica lives down the street from a bunch of 5150s (the code for "Danger to Self Or Others".
I always thought 5150 was a great name for a band.
Monday, August 12, 2002 Okay I have contacted CAL TRANS andthe department of city public works and a paralegal at Legal Services Of Northern California (for the assaultive behavior I experienced).
Private roads are not under any vehicle speed limit jurisdiction. So technically, if Erica or myself wanted to be suicidal and drive 100 MPH, kicking up gravel and potentially damaging crud, we could do so.
Additionally, all parties on a road, in order to post ANY speed limits, have to be in agreement and go into a civil court to have that agreement noted. No one can decide who goes fast and who goes slow on a private road.
On public roads, the public works and cal trans officially designate speed limits and set zoning (as we probably already knew).
Anyway, I feel pretty good.
I can make the cops take down his little "Go Slow" and "10 MPH" signs that he painted in front of his house.
I love hunting up legal stuff. Thanks for pushing me, Steve-o. I followed up nicely.
All righty then. Had a depressing lunch. Spent it at the City Animal Shelter poring over the binders full of missing and found pets, the intakes, and the "disposed of" lists.
Checked quarantine and catteries. No Todd. However, I left incredibly depressed. They keep found animals dropped off as strays for 4 days and then euthanize if they run out of room. Ugh. Unless they are quarantined for other reasons. There was a boxer puppy in quarantine. I nearly cried. Little thing. I kept saying "Buck up amelie, and get your fat ass inside that door and take a peek."
Today I will leave work a little early to get out to the SPCA off Florin Perkins Road (AKA BFE~a term I hate. Is there a better derogatory word that isn't a racial or homophobic slur? I need one. But right now it's BFE.)
To make myself feel better I bought a healthy vietnamese lunch of noodles and charbroiled chicken from my favorite restaurant serving such tidbits (yes Amoeba and Regina, it's open again. And they made it nicer inside. Making me wonder if it wasn't an arson after all.) Anyway, I personally think the take away box of noodles is smaller than the bowl you get at the table. Sadly. Or maybe not, since I am a fat ass. Boy, I wonder how long that comment will bug me? You are so right, Moe. That's the one. Call me the c word, the mf word, a dumbass, I just laugh. Fat ass. That kicked mine.
I'm already full. Now I have to go back to work.
Hard to do when you're wondering if your crazy cat has been "disposed of".
~At your disposal,
Sunday, August 11, 2002
Well! This has proven to be a very busy weekend.
Got to build Volcanoes, missed the GG Allin/Hated documentary, and got yelled at by a pregnant man. All at Erica's abode!
Yes, that last one is correct.
I suppose the first two things explain themselves. But then today Steve and I went to look for Todd at the animal shelter (no go, it was open, but "Closed" and they wouldn't let me in). Then, we went to see the Notorious CHO. Great great great. I was in a great mood. When we left, we decided we were hungry. So we called Erica to see if she was also hungry, and drove out to meet her. Erica lives in a suburban area, on a freak gravel road. She is the last house on the gravel road, it deadends in her yard. you have to drive 15 mph or less so the gravel doesn't tear up your car. Apparently, she has been approached by a fat man who wears orange, and told that I drive too fast. She's warned me, I watch the speedometer, but I figure I drive plenty slow, as I drive slower than in a parking lot. A fact I pointed out to Steve as we drove down, simply because this odd neighbor has bugged Erica about my driving before. We had a laugh about it, as I was definitely under 15 the entire time. And I pulled into her driveway to inspect the volcano progress and to be greeted by her whippet and her borzoi.
About 5 minutes into our visit, Erica says "Uh oh." and grabs her whippet.
A fat white man had just toddled into her yard screaming names at us. Mostly "Where's the idiot?" And "Hey idiot". He said other stuff, but the idiot part, I just decided was too much. I have a graduate degree I paid for myself, I work with poor people daily, and I take crap from no man. As he was obviously referring to me, and said I was racing my car past his house, I approached. Hmm. I could feel adrenaline shoot into my limbs, and my PNS? It's the fight (not flight) response every freaking time. Luckily, I don't get attacked ever, because I am tall and have heft. But if it happens, I can fight. I hate that I can, but I know how. And will.
I walked over to him and said "You have a problem with me, sir? Then talk to me." And he said "Yeah I do, you fucking idiot. Learn how to drive."
I stood my ground. I do not take shit like that. I understand that many people do, but most folks do not bother me because I am a) not an idiot, and b) bigger and stronger, which I take for granted. Unless you have a gun or a knife, and then I am likely to back away scanning for weapons that I can use to protect myself. This has not yet happened, but since I don't back down from horrible people, I have to know how to survive, right?
I was actually in fight stance, checking his belly out to see if it would take a kick or a punch better. I decided I'd hit the head if he raised a finger to me. I said "Excuse me, but I was driving less than 15 mph, get a radar meter, jerk. Also, you're trespassing on private property. Get the hell off". I think I was much more polite than that, but I was really getting pissed.
He escalated and raised his voice, calling me more names, sidling up, a little blustery and full of himself, I yelled back in the same tone that I was calling the police. He bellied up to me, I smelled faint alcohol, his spit was spraying my face, I leaned in and said "Get out of here now." In my meanest voice. Also, I had my hands at my side and my knees bent, feet in 3rd position. That's how you have to stand if someone is about to attack you so you don't fall over and so you can move out of the way and let them fall as you trip them, which is what I was also calculating the promise of. I figured I was close enough to take him down and disable him swiftly, and he was too wobbly to get in a good shove to knock me. Perfect. He was going down if he tried ANYthing.
He looked me in the eye and I think realized I was not to be messed with, because he turned his attention to the other people watching him and staying out of the conflict (wisely, as I need to be totally focused since I am not a fighter and don't want to have to worry that they are in swinging range), and countered with staring at Erica and trying to engage her in an argument. I said "No, you look at me when you are talking about me. If you have a problem with me, tell ME. Not her, ME. She's already warned me you don't like how I drive, now I'm telling you Too Bad. I drive legally and under the speed limit. How fast do you think I need to go, sir?" He said "5 mph". I said "Yeah, definitely tough luck there because it's not going to happen. Now, Get Off Her Property. You are trespassing. Go. Now."
He looked like he might hit me, but I dart and dodge. I also head butt if necessary, and he was the right height for a proper fight if it came down. Plus, I just cannot back down from people who try to intimidate me. Bullies are usually big chickens. This has been proven time and time again to me. Now I have my own "I got into a big screaming fight" story. I know I stay polite, and can raise my voice quite loudly if necessary, and I retain my relatively high vocabulary.
As he backed off finally, and toddled away frustrated and still yelling expletives, he called me a fat ass. He called me Fat Ass. For future reference, "Bitch Idiot Fat Ass Fucking Ho Neighbor" was the full term (sounds like one of the google searches used to find my site). I was laughing. I yelled, "Yeah, that's good. Coming from a Pregnant Man."
He was still muttering about Fat Asses. I called out "Yeah, you're a Fat Ass". He yelled back "No, I'm The Pregnant Man."
Well, at least he owned up to it.
He said his name is David Vandenberg. I called the cops, just like I said I would.
Why do people mess with me? I have serious adrenaline overload when threatened, and I don't run away from scary situations, I jump right in like the viking german magyar hispanic woman that I am.
First off, I began the process for filing charges as he spit on me and touched me. Ever after, I will call 911 at every future incident. As will Erica.
I am talking Erica into installing an electric fence, a motion detector camera, and razor wire (she is worried about retaliation, as the guy is obviously a drunk, and insane. He just marched into her yard like she lived in his backyard). That should look good with the volcanoes.
in a few minutes I will go watch No Kill I and the FM Knives. Should be interesting.
~Amelie, The Bitch Idiot Fat Ass Ho, god bless ya.
Friday, August 09, 2002
"If you see a little less spring in my step, if your name fails to leap to my lips, you'll know why. And if I tell a funny story for the second time, please laugh anyway."
~Charlton Heston on finding out he probably has Alzheimer's.
Do you think they will still let him hold guns?
Ally, tell the milk duds story. I am still laughing, by the way.
Speaking of milk duds and movies therefore, go see Sunshine State. I swear, some of the funniest dialogue ever. Ever.
Hmmm...blogger is posting things twice? not good...
"I am soooo making fun of YOU!" Ally came to lunch with me today. What did she do today, you might ask? Well, her day was busy and filled with standing in line at the DMV and being startled by the flash after she thought the license photo had been taken.
And then she came to lunch.
And we had burgers. They were dry, and after all the hullabaloo around whether or not meat is good, I can state that this definitely was not.
And while she finished her burger, I turned into CatGirl and made fun of every outfit walking by. Especially the ones wearing weird bras that had visible outlines. Oh, and the aqua shirt/navy cropped pants (abominable!) and the straw sandals was REALLY pushing it. I was Fashion Cop. And I don't even look like much in my $5 old navy jeans that Erica stained with blackberry and my old black T (cuz screw it, it's casual friday people.) We watched as a grandma ran up to some 13 year old boy with her arms outstretched to hug him, and at the last minute he backed up and shot out a hand shakin' hand. Which she dropped her arms to shake. We laughed out loud.
And after she finished (Ally throws garbage away. I leave it on the table) we went to coffee. We had a conversation with the nice girl who makes my coffee about bromeliads. She said she thought they were called sexy pinks. Ha.
Then, we ran into my sister's ex boyfriend. He is tall and cute. But I know too much about him and would never set anyone up, especially Ally.
Because at the light? She had a laughing fit. I thought it was about the kid and the granny. But she started crying, she was laughing so hard.
It didn't stop.
She was laughing so hard, I had to walk away from her because I am liable to start laughing for no reason, and puke, and god forbid I lose my scrumptiously dry burger on the road. So, finally when she could gasp out "I've gone all day like this...." she pulled at her her hem. I noticed that she looked impecably surged. Why, in FACT, she was. Because her shirt? It was inside out.
All. Day. Long. That was it. Now I was laughing. Hard. At her. With my hand up to block looking at her, because it just made me laugh harder when I did. And she deserves it, because you know what? Ally looked okay and tres put together, and that's coming from the not-joan-rivers fashion cop. Even with her shirt inside out. She couldn't breathe by that time. I hope she writes about it. She better, because you know what? That was fucking funny.
"Hullo, DMV? Can I have a new photo? Cuz the flash caught me off guard and the shirt? It has been inside out. All Day Long."
My friend Marilyn had her baby. She is an older mom, and managed to deliver a healthy little boy a week after I said "He'll be born tomorrow." throwing my psychic powers in the dumpster. He was born on my mom's birthday. His last name is Kermit. Right now he is known as Baby Kermit. I think that's terrible. You know what I think his name should be?
They don't like that name though. Cannot figure out why...
7# 9oz. 20". That's a good sized boy.
Thursday, August 08, 2002 Prions!Oh yeah.
let's all freak out and not eat meat again.
The last time this happened was when I read Fast Food Nation and couldn't look at a burger. I kept thinking, "Do you KNOW how many people lost their arms? Grinding up that burger meat at the slaughterhouse? Due to poor working conditions?"
Anyone who eats meat is gonna die from this stuff. Promise. It's the next AIDS.
Shut up J. You're dying too.
And I hope I live long enough to be the one to dissect your brain and confirm, "Yeah. He ate lamb. That ate lamb. That must've eaten a cow somewhere along the line..."
My dear pal Erica is convinced I have been missing out on GG Allin. So she has planned an evening of fun on Friday. Steve sent me this to prep. I am thinking I will need a vomit receptacle.
Also, I was reading a blog recently, one I have linked to, and the thing is, why do people put nasty comments on a blog? I don't get it. Funny comments. Sarcastic ones. Critical. Joking. But evilly nasty? No. No one I know does that. It's mean and besides, if you enjoy reading someone's life story, for whatever your reasons, it's not a good idea to write something cruel. I couldn't believe it. That's the kind of thing that makes you not want to journal anything. And blank blogs are no fun to read, people. no fun at all.
I think someone took my cat, Todd.
The last time he was seen was Monday evening.
Okay, you know when you think you don't like someone all that much but really, when they're gone, you miss them hopelessly?
Wednesday, August 07, 2002
for some reason, I felt obligated to send out a bunch of emails with a link to a virtual lava lamp I found on another blog called butterfly girl. crappers. lost her official link, cuz I'm an idjit.
Here's another link she posted that I jumped all over but didn't forward, thankfully, to have my mailbox less embarrassed.
It's pretty neat.
You can meditate and walk a labyrinth at Grace Cathedral in SF. That's where I did it last. Everyone gets all hippy and silent and barefoot and then slowly walks the line till they get to the end of the pattern. Actually, it's nice. In a dank, eccentric, quiet, thick aired sort of a way. Dawdle and stare, that's my motto.
I just called a store that was supposed to send me out my matching undergarments (yes, Ally, I got matching bs and ps, just because you inspired me) and they sent them out 2 months ago. But. My last call to them? With the change in address? Didn't update the address, apparently. So they were back in customer service waiting to be shipped out again. I talked to Ed. A youngish sounding wheezy man. I made him say Panty twice. I could tell he was having problems as he began wheezing heavily when I said "Black Lace?" That's when I realized, do I really want to talk about my matching black lace underwear with a strange man who can hear my voice over the phone? Who begins to wheeze heavily?
And here's an interesting find...bored? Read it! You will want to hug or strangle her. I'm waffling between the two extremes. Cute, though.
Know what I learned today? Kaiser is awful. And they must have it on record somewhere that I am a hypochondriac. But really, I know this. And I try to avoid going to the doctor. Which is why I employ full use of their advice line. Okay? So, they told me to come in for an appointment yesterday. With a nurse practitioner. I'm okay with this. Until she sat down and said "What can I do for you today?" I said, "well, I'm having abnormal bruising an-" she cuts me off with "It's not abnormal." ?
She didn't look.
I said "Well, for me, it's abnormal. And everyone who saw my arm two weeks ago said it looked broken. And now I-"
she said "It's fine."
I said, "Okay, it may look like not much now, because I am taking vitamin K and vitamin C and tons of iron, but-"
"Your bloodwork looks fine. You're not anemic. You're fine."
"You just need to live with it."
I get told to live with abnormal bruising yesterday (after they wouldn't see me for the big one I was complaining about earlier and it's the same one my brother finally recorded on film and I have yet to scan, but will, for you to look at during lunch, promise!) by a nurse practitioner who said "See my leg? I've had that for a year. I am a slow healer. You must be too." I looked at her, and her tan legs and brown skin, and thought "Okay, she has an over melanized scar. She's nuts if she thinks this is what I'm talking about". She said again, "oh, you're normal." I said, "um, where you just touched me? I am getting a bruise. See it?" I pointed to the bluish outline. She said "nope, you're normal." I left freaked out. My primary care doc is on vacation, this is what I get. Plus, I was late to a meeting. I cannot believe this.
I had a horrible experience with another nurse practitioner last August. Terrible. But I found a women's health specialist I adore and I called his office (okay, hello, in ANOTHER CITY, that's how desperate I was for hunting up a doctor I could stand last year). He is also on vacation. I got his nurse.
I made an appointment for this morning, because really, she couldn't be worse than the nurse yesterday, right? That one didn't even look at me and pronounced me fine. I could be dying, though I know I'm not, but she wouldn't have given me the time of day.
The one in Roseville today? She was great. I went there, not expecting much, getting there early and expecting to wait till the last minute. They called me promptly. She walked in very soon after I was in my little robe. She said immediately, "Is that bruise on your arm one of the ones you are talking about?" I said, "No, it formed while I was sitting in the office after she touched my arm with something." This nurse looked at my legs. She said "hmmm...these?" I said, "Yep. weird, non?" They look like someone threw grapes at me months ago. She said "Well, they wouldn't be that weird...if you didn't have bruises all over your torso." I said, "Yeah, and it's been AGES since I fell out of a ski lift." She laughed. It's good when they laugh, but I was serious. Nor have I fallen down any stairs or cracked my hip on any doorknobs lately, but I have bruises. And it isn't my fault this time AND, I have been very careful and noticing EVERY time I bump myself on something even slightly painful.
She said "Hmm...well, your blood work looks good. You probably need to be a squeaky wheel and take photos of all your bruises and go into your doc and with pictures in hand, demand a referral to a hematologist."
An Advocate! Funny thing is, this is what I do for a living. With people who really are sick.
Okay, Kaiser, you want an argument? I'll give you one. There's a lovely bruise starting on my hand where I knocked it lighly on something leaving the bookstore where I met Ally. I am going to go to Costco and buying a ton of film.
All Things (Venereal) Great and Small Longish story about STDs. If you don't want to know, don't read it. I have to know. And I'm sharing it with anyone who gives a crap. Most of the following is going into a fairly prominent newsletter. Cheers!
(Lucky me. My line of work keeps me updated on new and unusual trends in the world of STDs. If you read archives, you know that I was one of the lucky 10 people in northern california to attend a herpes update at a very swanky restaurant. I got to look at pictures I will not describe here, over salmon and capers with a nice red steak that ended up not getting too eaten.)
It was one of many such dinners I get to attend regularly. All of these folks in attendance? Epidemiologists, infectious disease docs, internists, and PhDs who are studying the loveliest bits of the pink bits. What does that mean, besides they like looking at crotch? It means they are top in their field, and have done a bit more on the human subjects side as much as on the test tube/beaker side.
So they talk about what trends they see in the field on the exam tables. And they take pictures. Yummy.
What else does this mean? It means that most of the docs at Planned Parenthood are up to date, also I see a lot of docs from Sutter Hospitals at these events. I don't know about Mercy or Kaiser, as they are never represented. But if you are poor, go to PP because they literally know the stuff back and forth and are up to date, baby.
But here's the stuff I thought everyone knew. And as Ally pointed out, not all new stuff is the right stuff, as new stuff changes regularly, so I will just point out some of the things that make so much sense, and for clarity, I am listing them and describing why you need to know this.
1) Latex Condoms and plenty of lube, natural or the tube version, are your best defenses against STDs
Do not use Nonoxynol 9. As a spermicide (because it stings) or as a protective agent against STDs like HIV. I thought everyone knew this. It tears up not only viruses, but your own mucus membranes and cells, causing superficial bleeding, and the PERFECT transmission environment for lovely little bloodborne pathogens. Um, like HIV. Do not use it. They discovered this unfortunate situation during a test for microbicides on women in Africa about 3 years ago. It was pulled almost immediately due to high rates of infection. And if you ever noticed that uniquely painful "Stinging" after sex and during urination, it's probably due to some of them there tears I am talkin' about.
2) Condoms don't protect you from HPV, AKA those horrifying cauliflower like warts you have probably seen disgusting pictures of...and you need to know they are usually small and require an acidic bath under magnification to actually diagnose, that's how small they are, so don't assume your lover doesn't have 'em. HPV is one of the main causes of cervical cancer and it is also present in about 70% of all HIV patients, sparking a study done in the mid 1990s regarding HPV and HIV transmission, alarmingly discovering that ALL STDs can make HIV infection MUCH MUCH EASIER. Due to disruptions in the normal mucus membrane, which is like a protective coating or a sealant over the epidermis. Anyway, the CDC says about 1% of all sexually active people in the US are infected with HPV as of 1997. I, unfortunately, think the numbers are much higher.
3) Also receiving minimal protection from condoms, your expoxure to: Herpes spreads from the mouth to the genitals/anus or from the genitals/anus to the genitals/anus. Herpes, like all other herpes zoster viruses (including chicken pox or 'shingles', which lodges in the thoracic and cervical vertebrae in the nerve ganglia!) is FOREVER, as once you've been infected it goes into a latency/unexpressed stage, lodging somewhere predetermined in the spine, in nerve ganglia, depending on the type. Herpes is a trigger event, and travels down the nerve it infected over and over again during a lifetime. Most people carry either simplex 1 or simplex 2 (the genital kind). Genital kind is awful to get on the genitals, but not a big deal on the mouth, as it doesn't lodge there in the spine and cannot gain a foothold, though you would get one breakout and never have another on your mouth. Simplex 1, oral, is the one that can lodge in both cervical and lumbar vertebrae, and therefore can erupt in genital and cervical areas. I have a friend who has a particularly virulent strain, and it erupts up and down the back. And it fucking hurts. I've seen a kid with an oral herpes outbreak ON HER HAIRLINE. Your face has the most nerve endings, by the way.
The worst part about herpes, genital being the more virulent of the two simplexes though oral can be found both places, is that it sheds virus 66% of your life, slowly lessening over time, if you are infected, and not only when there are active ulcers. Nice, non? Even a "clean" looking person can spread it. Okay, but the BEST thing about genital herpes is that it just ain't that big of a deal. Because even though this article says only 22% of people actually have it, clinics are finding higher percentages when they check specific 'fishy looking' lesions independently of what the patient has presented symptoms of (like "I think I have a yeast infection....I think I have a bladder infection.") And literally they are finding crazy high incidences in people showing up with other than the classic symptoms.
Look on the bright side, it just means more people are infected than you ever thought possible, and since we aren't walking around with big scabs all over us, it ain't no big thing. Get a blood test to see if you have either simplex. I did. I carry the virus for the mouth kind, and I never even get cold sores.
Also, since the sores clear up after 7 days, if you are one of those women with recurrent cystitis or yeast infections, go get tested (as both of those conditions ALSO clear up "with medicines" within 7 days)
Herpes, again, is a triggered viral outbreak. Triggered by allergies, sun, stress, cold, illnesses, and my personal favorite, first dates.
Additionally, there are more antiviral medications you can take to control viral outbreaks if you are one of the few who have the horribly painful kind, like my pal who gets them up the spine. Relief.
Okay, and I think I'm done.
In Sacramento, Gonorrhea (holy shit, check out this site, Gonorrhea is now resistant, we will see a huge number of infections reported now I predict!) is currently the most prevalent of the non-HPV/Herpes STDs. I'm willing to bet it isn't an anomaly, because being bacterial, Gonorrhea and Syphillis get cleared up all the time due to overuse of broad spectrum antibiotics for everything, and you know what? You could still be infected by someone who comes up negative if they took antibiotics after they infected you. Cool, non? I think the numbers are higher. Chlamydia (curable with hard core antibiotics, and you can keep the aftereffects of infection from happening if you get in an cure it early), usually #1 (again, I think this is due, in other parts of the country, to overuse of antibiotics), often considered to be the nastiest because it is almost completely asymptomatic (no symptoms), and causes PID~(pelvic inflammatory disease, apparently super painful) and other problems like infertility, comes in 4th (in Sacto) after HPV, Herpes, and Gonorrhea. But both of these (Syphillis and Gonorrhea) can be avoided by conscientious condom use, and cured totally easily. Again, plain latex. With loads of lube (the female condoms are interesting if you want to incorporate something new). But otherwise stick to the basic latex and lube, whether you are hetero or gay or some unique combination of the two.
Okay, why lubrication? A: Because most people are not that into sex when they actually have it, unfortunately. Mentally, maybe. Drugged, probably. But actually physically lubricated enough to protect the membranes? Probably not. Fake lube reduces friction, reducing tears to membranes, reducing, even with a broken condom, the possibility for infection to occur.
I just added more horror. Or info, as I like to say. Man. I almost forgot. Hepatitis B is also considered a sexually transmitted disease (amongst other ways of transmission), but unlike so many others, it has a vaccine. Go get it. 3 injections, 1st followed by the 2nd 30 days later, and then one booster 6 months after the 1st. It's worth it. You do not want to die from Hep B. It is not pretty. And it does eventually kill you.
Hepatitis C is also transmitted sexually (or so I have heard) but is mainly a intravenous drug user problem, though it will kill you, and in not very pretty ways. One of the loveliest happened to my aunties, both who had blood transfusions in the 1960s before Hep C had been discovered. Her greater sapphenous leg veins eventually disintegrated and she bled out, splitting the skin. Do not get this virus. There is a test to find out if blood you are about to be transfused with has the virus, although there are about 100 slighter versions of hepatis viruses that there are no practical tests for, so use your own blood whenever possible, and donate your clean blood whenever you can. There are no cures, no vaccines, for Hep C and the coinfection rate amongst people with HIV is astronomical.
Oh, and women and gay men who do not use drugs, being the receivers of, um, 'stuff', have higher rates of infection than straight men who do not use drugs. Totally unfair. Gay men are less likely to go to doctors due to stigma for being gay, and women go less often because they are often asymptomatic or have masking symptoms that seem to "clear up" with a little treatment for yeast infections. Go to the doctor, people.
I rarely honk my car horn. This is because when I was learning to drive, the horn in that car didn't work. And it never worked for the subsequent 2 more years I drove it. And then, I bought the Primer colored Volvo named Jordie. It was awful. It also didn't have a horn. I drove that for another 2 years till the transmission gave out. That's 4 years of not being conditioned to use a horn, and it worked.
I don't use mine. I get upset. I cuss. I sometimes shake a fist. That's about the extent of it.
Today, I gently prodded my horn because a dumb girl (she had to be, her pony tail was on top of her head and she was smoking, holding the cigarette really close to the poof), wasn't turning on the light. I even gave her a 3 second "get into gear" option. She didn't take it. I pulled up behind her and tapped the horn. She spread her arms like she didn't know what to do. "Ah" I thought. "she doesn't know it's protected." I honked lightly one more time. She pulled out, stalled, and got really upset. If she had a gun, she'd have shot me.
The left turn arrow started to turn yellow, I'm already late, so I went, fairly illegally, around her on her left. Okay, totally illegally, but no one can blame me. She followed me, probably to give me a piece of her mind. And must've seen the yellow arrow turning as she made the totally protected left turn. She was visibly shaking when she pulled into the McDs at the end of the block. I felt bad, and had I had any time, I'd've pulled into the parking lot and said a comforting, "I wasn't honking at you because I was mad. Oh, you're a dumbass, but so is my brother and I don't honk at him for it. I was just letting you know, via the only communication possible, that there was a protected light, so you didn't have to wait because it was all about you, dearie. Okay, have a lovely day and feel better." Because I'm nice like that.
~Amelie est Sympathique
Monday, August 05, 2002
Had dim sum for lunch with Tammie, who quit and won't be working here anymore :o( but will be happy somewhere else :o)
I am so full I keep lurching to the left and then overcompensating and swinging to the right.
Mmmm...fried taro root buns and steamed rice with red bean paste and little wedges of baked whatsits and steamed gelatinous veggie thingies. I also had hot and sour soup minus the pork chunkettes.
Ok, this is the first time I've been to this restaurant since Dalia told me there were cockroaches there. I even went to the bathroom and spyed around for any bug sign. Nothing. I think it's clean. My food was sooooo
I think the Vatican Stinks To High Heaven. My mom hates when I get anti-catholic, but this is absurd. And here's why. I find it completely offensive that a bunch of white, aristocratic, snobby puffs have the gall to excommunicate women who have been ordained as priests, but do nothing when small children and young boys are molested in confession.
They do nothing when their american dioceses are going bankrupt over the large penalty settlements levied against them for their laissez-faire attitude, yet they excommunicate women and say that they have sinned the most.
I have coffee but it's not kicking in yet. ugh.
Weekend was pretty good. I'm surprisingly tired for all the sitting around/eating I did yesterday. Nice folks. Except Erica who thought my harmless initial grape toss was a full on war and she attacked me with blackberries. I naturally fired back with more grapes, at close range. One, thankfully, hit her in the eyeball. Hah. However, she may have ruined my favorite $5 pants that I bought at old navy 4 years ago. These pants are PRECIOUS to my HEART, mainly because they don't pinch off any of my waist and they are baggy. No one else would want them since the inseam is crooked and the button/zip fly sits to the far left of your belly button. Hence, their $5 status so long ago. Secretly, I think Erica hates them because they are brown.
My dog? took him, and he was still asleep when I left for work. I think it was because I caused him to play with other dogs and people during the late afternoon, when I'm sure, on a normal day, he is sound asleep, probably on my bed.
I managed to stay unsunburned for once, and most of my new bruises are smallish. Like I was smattered with grapes at one point.
From yesterday I have a good picture or two of the Rancho Seco stacks (where we picnicked)
From Saturday I have a good digital picture or two of a pal and her new band
but I am too tired to pick up what I've already developed much less take more crap in. And I'm the laziest with this new camera.
I will try, I will try.
Plus, I want to get some of my haircut before it all grows out again.
This coming weekend, I think I will try to hole up for 3 days. My friend Kim is going to Ashland for a play or two and is leaving her dog with me. Thankfully, it's a big lazy dog. Perhaps I will help Erica finish the volcanoes next weekend as I will hopefully have nothing better to do.
There is a demolition crew tearing down an old building across the street from my work today. I secretly love demolition, and there was a guy in grad school who owned a demolition company that used a lot of dynamite. I used to ask him all kinds of questions and was trying to get him to invite me to a job, but he wouldn't. sigh. Anyway, I keep running out to check on their progress. I will go home for lunch and grab my digital camera. Not that I can download any pictures yet, but I want the option if I can figure it all out.
Friday, August 02, 2002
I am counting down to 5.
5 five V
The worst part of the day.
Tonight I am seeing 3 decent bands at a bar in walking distance, so if I get thrown out I can walk home, I am building volcanoes on Saturday morning, bigguns in a yard, and then attending a bbq on Saturday Afternoon after a hot shower (volcano foam is messy and not good for your hair).
and Sunday another bbq I think, out by Rancho Seco. Bee. Zar. takin' Erica and the dogdogs I believe.
Then, possibly, seeing the new margaret cho movie. Late. You gals can come watch sex and the city on my couch, it replays on mondays.
Nice to have a plan.
I am not overbooked, I am not overbusy, I haven't forgotten anything. I think.
Thursday, August 01, 2002
I know who's buying this! Great, non?
Annoying things today:
I am rubbing my leg where I just smacked it against something (yep, new bruise formation starting, I'll keep you all updated on my iron content), and I realize that there is a long strip I missed when I shaved (painstakingly, I might add). So my prim, smooth ladylike legs are not perfect. They are bruised and have a long stripe of stubble goddammit. I hate that. Missed.
Another annoying thing:
Overheard (on my way to buy a cherry diet coke, I'm so addicted to these things. I didn't even like them at first, I bought it as a joke like "DIET CHERRY? COKE? Must try for kicks." And now sickly, I have late afternoon cravings.) in the hallway, tried to tune it out...
Weird coworker who's name remains anonymous: Oh yeah. Paisley is great.
Nice polite coworker obviously trying to extricate herself from the conversation outside the women's bathroom: Oh, I like paisley.
Weird: No. YOU DON'T underSTAND. There's a whole club DEDICATED to paisley. (aside:I'm running away down the hall now)
Weird: I mean it's ALL about the 70s. It's called Polly Esther's. (I'm like, downstairs in the basement and can still hear her.)
Nice: mumble mumble
Weird: AND they have 80s night too. It's great.
Nice: (saying something about the color beige)
Weird: Oh yeah, beige is a good color. For most people. Except when it's mixed with orange and green.
Nice is now in the cafeteria backing away, Weird is still in the hallway chatting it up. I walk between them, holding my can of soda up like a flag.
Weird is really weird. My boss says it's because she was raised in a fundamentalist christian home. he says, "They put the mental into christian and take all the fun out."
Whatever. She scares me.
Oh yeah, and I never had Izods, matching skirts/shirts, nikes (until they weren't cool anymore unfortunately), vidal sasson jeans, curling boingy hair, feathers, knickers, nothing.
I was the most unpopular untrendy kid ever. My mom bought me famolares (possibly the ugliest shoes ever created) and london fog coats, and corduroy pants (before they were cool, dammit. I missed EVERYTHING trendy by a decade). I think I had preppy button down shirts, but I have blanked on this and cannot remember anything I wore near my face until I was 14.
I do remember being 6 and wearing a red, white, and blue ski jacket. All the time. In the summer even. Until it split up the back. There are pictures of me wearing it. I was a cute 6 year old, but not very stylish.
~Amelie, la mode tarde
This I found on another blog. It's pretty good.
The biggest things I remember fashion wise (hey, I was 9) were this matching skirts and boxy style shirts that the girls wore. With their curly tube-like feathery hair painstakingly coiled around a curling iron every morning and the bangs feathered back meticulously and sprayed in place.
I also remember these crazy trendy pants called "knickers". Okay, not like when I say "knickers" and mean my underwear. There were like the short pants boys wore during and Oliver Twist hard knock life. Oh. That's Annie. Sorry. yeah, knickers. Probably related to the issues I have with cropped pants. I hate them. I wear one pair, and they are still in the closet even thought they are cute.
What else from 1980? I can't remember if dove shorts were in back then. I know Izod shirts were.
What about shoes? I am vaguely remembering nike was big and vidal sassoon, but I can't remember if that's 1980 or just early 1980s.
I do not remember what boys wore at all. AT ALL! What the hell was wrong with me? Did I not like boys?
I remember their hair. It was awful. All the boys in 4th grade had bowl cuts. They made me feel sick, like the day I ate uncooked cold butterscotch pudding with my neighbor Russ (who had a butterscotch colored bowl cut) and he could burp and talk at the same time. And that made me sick, a mouth full of cold pudding (because it was the cook kind and we weren't allowed to use the stove, I remember that) so I threw it up on the counter. He felt bad. We played Pong for the rest of the day.