Wednesday, November 26, 2003
Everything is great.
Except the creepy nightmares I've been having lately. For example, last night I dreamed I was running around in a dirty strapless wedding dress and trying to get someone to shave weird brown/red wirey hair that was sprouting from my right shoulder. That was not fun.
Or the night before:
I dropped my car at a valet, didn’t trust him, so I went back to the valet platform and looked down over the cliff where they were parking cars. They were holding a demolition derby. So, I started screaming for them to return my car. The mean valet starts climbing up the rickety ladder to the platform, and grabs at me. I fall backwards, and loop my ankle into the ladder rungs. We are hanging perilously. My dog starts barking at the guy. He grabs my poor dog by the footy, and Seamas starts to slide. I frantically push my dog back towards the platform, but he misses the edge and goes through the rungs in the ladder and swan dives into the rocks below. I catapult from my bed as I hear his neck break. I’m freaking out. I think I torqued my back really bad twisting around in bed during the nightmare. I’ve been known to scream, too.
It’s been cold in my room, which promotes nightmares, but I truly cannot sleep in a warm room. I toss and turn.
I don’t know what to do. My coworker thinks I’m depressed again, but I’m just achey and tired.
So, dream people, what do those two dreams mean? I had another one the night before the scary valet dream, but it involved people on rapid transit with watery eyes and blank white faces. I attribute that to looking at too many Walker Evan’s portraits.
Anyway, I hope everyone has a truly charming and blessed Thanksgiving. We deserve it.
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Why? Because there’s no religious broo-ha-ha over it, there’s nothing inherently “creepy” about it (unless you were like me and thought the Indians probably should have killed the white mayflower folks before they brought The Pox). It’s not a holiday I don’t understand, like Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day (I don’t get why we can’t just add them into a 4 day holidayweekend, for example). And no one is obligated to give presents, you just have to know how to cook something yum up for about 10-15 people. Or you know. Buy chips and dip. That’s why it’s my favorite. We play games, watch movies, eat turkey and cranberry sauce and play guitar in my family. I usually have friends over if I host it. At my mom’s there is an entire set of flatware and china table settings devoted solely to Thanksgiving. It’s really Martha Stewart, except Martha has maids to clean up the mess. I love that. It’s so special. And it’s not canned, like so much of xmas. I suppose some people are not huge fans of Thanksgiving, but I think it’s my favorite because it’s so low-key. I love when people tell me their holiday traditions for Thanksgiving. A good one is making tamales and Italian food (for a non-traditional family celebration), or the All-American Xmas Tree Hunt tradition that one of my friends does with her family the day AFTER Thanksgiving. Another family makes turkey different ways (once they stuffed the turkey with a stuffed chicken, another time they deep fried the turkey). My veggie friends have good ideas for eats as well. It’s just a good holiday for everyone.
This year, if I’m not feeling too achey and miserable, I’m doing the Appetite Enhancement Ride.
This requires waking up at 8 AM, riding your bike to a previously disclosed hush-hush location, and imbibing in Two Rivers Ciders and Bagels with cream cheese and lox, and bbq’d oysters in the shell. The last time I tried to do it, I was so impaired I had to walk my bike home during the auction (they auction off handmade items so that they can buy bikes for kids in shelters). I didn’t even get to do the ride. So, this year I am pacing myself.
Also, my sister bought a house (Go Pooh!) so we will be moving her in after dinner. My parents decided not to cook this year (sometimes this happens), so we are going to a nice restaurant. Which should be fine. Friday I finish helping my sis move into her new place. And then Saturday, I nixed my plan for Apple Hill in lieu of an endangered event, The Crasharama. It didn’t happen this August, as planned. But they found a new place, and it should be fantabulous. Imagine JackAss Live. Yup. With bands and free beer.
Boy. I sound like a lush.
Let it be known that I am a lightweight who doesn’t drive drunk. Thank you very much.
Friday, November 21, 2003
Popcorn was driven to Foster City tonight by myself. After sitting in traffic for 45 minutes. There I was, settling into my leonard cohen (thanks to maya) and thinking "Okay, I will never leave during rush hour again" when I was passed by no less than 4 firetrucks, an ambulance, a battalion chief, and a tow truck. Yup. Jeep VS UPS truck. Not pretty. Anyway, Popcorn was a trooper. She purred the entire time in the car. She is now happy in the home of a nice gal named Emily and her kitten Annie. I think it's a good match. It was sad for me though. Now I just have to get a better home for Churchill. He's freaking out in mine. I don't know if I'm causing his insanity, or if he's just terrified I'm going to shove another antibiotic/vermifuge down his throat. Poor thing. He's so terrified of me, he's taken to hiding in the couch. Anyway, he's not having the craps anymore. I think the Panacur cured him. Finally, sheesh.
My work computer is down because we are getting a new server. My home computer is down because something is seriously wrong with it. It's missing "vital dll files" that would allow me to load a new operating system, additionally, my viruscan found no less than 3 viruses and worms.
I'm off to Emmy's Spaghetti Shack with the PF here in SF, and we are making fun of Michael Jackson, who actually horrifies me beyond beyond. Have a nice weekend,
~Amelie, who thinks he should have just stuck with Emmanuel Lewis and stayed out of this mess.
Tuesday, November 18, 2003
Anyone want a white kitten named Popcorn? She's totally adorable. She looks like this I know. Really cute. The person I thought she was going to go live with can't take her until December 2, and really, I can't wait. She's spayed, vaccinated, socialized, sweet, adorable, deaf, what more do you want?
Saw Master And Commander yesterday. It was okay. PF and Dave S would giggle uncontrollably whenever the characters said "able seaman". There are some good parts, it showed what life would be like on a ship back then. Sort of. It's worth it to see in the theater for the wide screen shots of the masts and ocean, but go to a matinee.
Also saw Elephant this weekend. I so completely do not recommend this movie, I don't know what to tell you. I hated it. I felt like it wasn't a story, it was more Gus Van Sant's obsession with strange surreal suburban white kids, and his need to see them naked and gay. Want to see a better movie about teens that is far more disturbing and more genuine? See L.I.E.
The last movie I liked by Van Sant was My Own Private Idaho. The only other film I liked? Drugstore Cowboy. I can't stand anything else he's done. Not even Good Will Hunting. Ugh. This one was really fucking bad. Don't see it.
Monday, November 17, 2003
Arnold's mulleted little boy just led The Pledge Of Allegiance. With his left hand over his right nipple. Hmmm..... I think it's funny and cute. I ain't gonna bitch about it. But it makes you think. Eh. Forget about it. I hate the pledge of allegiance. It is dumb.
Okay, Henry downloaded a porn site onto my home computer and now it's pluggled up with tons of parasite adware. I have ad aware, but I downloaded other stuff too to fix it. Finally, I met Andrew Clover. Not literally. He wrote instructions on how to get this crap out of your registry. His website will tell you if you have something on YOUR computer. Neat, non? And it worked. Only, I think I took something I need off too. So, tonight I have to reload Windows. I think I'm going with Mozilla soon, or I will buy Red Hat. This is ridiculous. I have nothing compromising on my computer, but I REALLY hate the pop up non stop porn. You know?
Right now there are over 10,000 people outside my office waiting to see Arnold. They are mainly young men in suits. It's kind of funny because they are pressed up against cold chain link fencing with no seating. They are standing in the mud. But they are all smiling. I don't get it. Republicans Standing In Muck. Someone tried to give me a button and I smiled and said "No thank you."
In other news:
Last Thursday I was kicked out of the post office. Because I open my mail with a pocket knife. I've done it over 50 times since I got my PO Box at the central library. But because the Unibomber sent packages from there, they have very tight security. Whatever. Only not tight enough to catch my tiny pocketknife that PF gave me for xmas that I've had xrayed each freaking time. So, I was chucked out of line after a manual search of my purse (where the cope whispered loudly, "SHE HAS A KNIFE!" and I was furious. They wouldn't even hold it for a few seconds. I had to stash it in bushes and get back in line. Where they were furiously frisking a guy who looked like Don King. Top that with the fact that they made me promise not to have anyone else receive mail at my box and yet I had over 10 letters for other people in there, and you know I blew a gasket. Anyway. I threw the mail that was not for me on the floor and asked where the posting was for my pocket knife. The cop showed me a poster by the door that I had already looked at while I was stashing my pocketknife in the bushes (it said nothing about knives, and nothing about the length of the knife). He had said it was "Conveniently posted for my convenience". Which normally would have made me laugh. Basically, he said, the weapons clause refers to anything deadly and knives 2" or more are deadly. I said, "Oh, so whose fault is it that I've been coming in here with my knife since before I had a PO Box?" He just looked at me and smirked. I said "Can you measure it, please?" He measured it against an arbitrary wooden block (not a ruler) and said "It's way over 2"." I measured it later and it is 2 inches, 6 millimeters. I won't take it in again, but boy. 6 millimeters??? I hate our post 9/11 and post Unibomber shenanigans. If someone pulls out a knife and goes after someone in the post office, by all means, shoot them down. Use the Xray machine if you think it will find bombs, guns and explosives (however, it apparently has missed my knife until this last time when my purse was manually examined due to the fact that the Xray? Was down. For my convenience.)
More other news:
PF took me to a wedding for his friend Fred. Fred loves Thor. Therefore, Thor sang at his wedding reception. Joe Preston (The Melvins), Tom Flynn (Fang) were part of his "superband". I was pretty impressed. It was silly and fun. We sat at the same table as Tom and Joe and their gals Jessica and Sally. And I managed to drink a lot and PF and I ate cheese pupusas and pickled eggs and homemade beef jerky. Okay, and Fred's mom's Pickled Eggs? Are now my new favorite food. I'm serious. I am going to get that recipe.
Okay, Arnold just walked down the hallway at the Capitol out to the crowds. It's crazy out there right now. Republicans standing in mud. heh.
~Amelie, Hail Thor, Conan, and Pickled Eggs.
Thursday, November 13, 2003
Okay, I feel like I invented this product. In my imagination I thought "I wonder if they could make a washer/dryer UNIT" as in "All in one". And those tricky european space saving geniuses?
All my cats are in the house. I tried to kick them out, but it didn't work. And as it so happens, I was putting away the milk, when something warm hit my bare bare foot.
No, not fresh crap. Fresh rat. Fresh dead wild rat. These are not cute and cuddly, Moe. They are a little scary and their teeth are sooo huge. They are all brown and giant like squirrels. It's creeping me out. I finally have to say something about this insane carnage. ALL of my cats have been catching and bringing home dead rats. I'm not sure why there are suddenly so many.
Last spring, Wingnut would bring me little green plums and lay them out by the sliding glass door. Naturally, I would step on them and nearly break my neck, but I couldn't help but notice the loving little toothmarks and the delicate line-up of little unripe baby plums. If you know my cat, you know he will look at you so cutely with big round eyes wondering if you approve or what you're going to do if you don't approve. And during the Summer I tried to discourage Shabazz from catching dragonflies and putting them on my pillows. He didn't seem to understand. Sometimes if I threw it out, he'd go catch another.
Churchill catches flies and other bugs in the house. He won't go outside and stay there. He eats the bugs before he brings them to me. Yes. He is still crapping, by the way, even after the expensive drama of the Panacur. And what did Churchill catch the last time he actually ventured outside? A mouse.
But this crazy deaf kitten? She catches big rats. Bigger than her. And she taught my other cats how to do it.
Every other day I am throwing away a new rat. Some are bigger than others. One was outside in the rain and I only discovered its maggot filled carcass when I stepped on it while putting something away in the shed. Not pleasant.
So today, the rat hit my foot. I picked it up with a paper towel and buried it in the garden because the trash just came and picked up our trash. I'm a little freaked out by all the rats, actually. If I have them outside, other people have them outside. Other people? Poison things. And poisoned dead things? Fall into backyards and get eaten by cats and dogs. So, needless to say, I'm worried about Seamas and my kitties. And really getting freaked out by all the dead rats. If they had done this all along, I wouldn't be upset. But this is 10 rats in 15 days, people. That's a herd o'rats out there.
Man. And the other thing that sucks? Now that they hunt rats, I can't have a rat at all. And I was just contemplating the idea the other day...
Monday, November 10, 2003
So, I just cracked myself up.
I order all the supplies for the office and my supplies rep is French. He's nice, a little goofy. He's good at taking notes down about me and my life-things-whatnot, then asking me about how this and that was. Very good salesperson.
Anyway, he speaks beautiful English. And today I ordered something in French and made him read everything back to me in French. He said afterwards, "You know, thees was my first order in french. You are doing good! Does your boyfriend speak french?"
I said "Oh, GOD no. He HATES the French."
I made it worse, too. I said "Yeah, we think it's funny."
Well, I’m officially insane. This is not news to most, though. My friend who was married in June? She is s quite pregnant. She’s far enough along to judge the sex. And she didn’t tell me right away. I’m thinking she wanted to seriously establish the pregnancy before breaking the news, but the way she told me made me think she figured everyone knew. Except that I really didn’t. I’m normally so excited for women who are pregnant and happy about it. I’m excited for women who AREN’T so happy about it, but decide they are going to go through with a pregnancy for whatever reason.
However, I am now officially jealous. Jesus. I can’t even be very happy for her. I want to be. But the “this isn’t very fair” feeling is cropping up. I feel like everyone should wait until I’m ready to do it too so I won’t be the only 60 year old at soccer practice. They way it’s looking now is I’ll be in my late 40s and will have saved up a ton of money to adopt abroad and will come home with a sickly toddler while everyone else has teenagers.
This pretty much sucks. And my heart is breaking instead of feeling a load of joy for someone who wants a baby. I need a therapist.
Churchill crapped under my brother’s bed. The smell was so bad, I thought we would have to move. Henry slept in the living room and I borrowed a steam cleaner and we cleaned under his bed. It’s still drying. Poor guy. I kept saying “No, dumbass, that’s just your room scent.” I feel bad about that now.
In other news, I’m thinking about getting one of these. It’s a paint by numbers kit. You send in your favorite photos, and they send you the kid. You just paint where they tell you to. It’s a throwback to the 1950s. I saw some old ones on Martha Stewart Living this morning when I was eating breakfast, and she mentioned this site. So, that may be one of the few things that gets me happy these days.
My cat Shabazz is missing. He was in the house last night. I have no idea what happened to him. I hope he's not having a Urinary Tract Blockage and hiding in a coma somewhere in the house. That happened once, and he barely survived.
My bike tire went flat 2 blocks from my house. I didn't notice because I was running late, so I didn't check it. I was out looking for Shabazz all morning.
I managed to wear my bleached pants to work. I meant to do that. But I forgot that I haven't ordered the permanent brown sharpie to color in the bleaced parts yet.
I forgot black socks. That I didn't mean to do.
I rode down an alley to avoid the Bumblebees who tell me to walk my bike, and I got rain water on me from some truck that was parked too close to a dumpster. So, my bleached pants are wet.
I have to wake up early to get the kitten spayed and the person who said she was going to take her never came over to visit or anything. So I still have no idea, not really, if I have found her a nice home. This sucks.
My hair needs cutting. I sometimes feel so ugly that I want to cut it off short like a nun. But that would just make my depression worse. And really, my self esteem is slipping daily. It used to be much higher.
And two weeks into my bike riding to work, I am really unhappy. At least I'm not crying like last week, man, that was so annoying. My new pal Emily has given me a great herbal tea mix that I need to try, and I'm taking 5HTP to keep my spirits up. She's an herbalist and she went camping with me not too long ago. I highly recommend her if anyone is interested in a referral.
But boy, that PF? He made me so mad last night I threw my phone.
Wednesday, November 05, 2003
I don’t get it. If a woman wants to end a pregnancy, no matter what part of the pregnancy, she should be able to. I highly support genetic testing so that people don’t have to get too far into their pregnancies before finding out that the baby is a train wreck waiting to die in the incubator, but I also think that having a baby with serious problems is a cross that no one should have to bear. Literally, not so long ago, babies were left out to die. It’s called “Exposed”. They were exposed when a mom died in childbirth, when there were no wetnurses, when the tribe was facing starvation, when the husband died, when the mom was depressed, when there were twins, when they had birth defects, when they had birthmarks, club feet, hare lips, whatever. Now we have medically performed abortions. You don’t have to expose your unwanted babies to the elements. You simply don’t go forward with a birth.
Personally, I want a kid now, so I would probably go through with even a drama pregnancy. And I would definitely keep a kid with a harelip, club foot, and birthmark. However, the likelihood of my even having the chance is getting slimmer and slimmer. In any case, I fully support a woman’s decision to CHOOSE what she will do if she becomes pregnant. It’s still the individual woman who must make the decision. Once you make your deposit, you ain’t got a say in it. You, the sperm provider, can make promises, but it’s still the pregnant lady’s decision. There are no pregnant men (except the guy who lives down the street from Erica. I don’t know if he liked my card of concern for him. It said “Hey Mr. Pregnant Man, I’m worried about your fetus. It shoulda been born by now. I think you may have a fecal impaction. If it is an actual pregnancy, though, you should lay off the beer. Sincerely, Concerned Citizen Amelie La Bonne.”)
In other news, I just got back from a long weekend in Poinsettia Ghost Town. With the Western Lore folks (photo is in Poinsettia). Along for the ride, Marie Banana, Ursula the Saw Player, and Stylish Ella. The regulars included Chris, Tim, Tony C (Camp Cale), PF, Guph. Seamas and I went for our 3rd trip. There was a sexy campout going on before we got to town, Chris and his gal Jen were there on Halloween. We entered Poinsettia with Guphy yelling "Sexy Camp-Out is OVER!!!" over and over again. It stuck. I am going to say it from now on. Apparently it snowed hard and the wind blew harder. It was probably a very chilly sexy camp-out. They did happen upon a coyote head. Fairly fresh. My dog was not impressed. We drove down to the salt flats and rode a minibike. This is a sport I highly recommend. Also required: Lagunitas Decimator. I learned a lot about my fellow Poinsettians. Mainly, I am definitely fatter than most gals and my boobs manage to be both smaller AND saggier. We all got naked in the sauna and I’m fairly roly-poly. However, I’m pretty okay with it. Although when PF calls me Rubinesque I essentially want to brain him. Good time, though. I had a great one. I love those people dearly. Everyone gets along on these trips. We were babbling about it later. It’s true. If you are the type to even get your shit together to get up there and not whine about it, you are probably the type who would enjoy some raw Ghost Town culture. Namely, drinking, campfire cookouts, funny stories, no tv, no heat, lots of laughing. It’s the desert for pete’s sake. You are free to run around naked shooting a rifle and smoke crack if you want to. I don’t recommend the first and latter, though. Only the rifle. It’s lovely to hit a can that is 400 feet away.
I did manage to throw up on Monday night. It happened thusly: singing songs in saloon, knocking back shots of whiskey, promptly followed by other things that I don’t normally do, and PF put some of my favorite sausage on the grill and I looked at it and I puked. I puked a lot. I puked even though I didn’t eat much. This probably contributed to the pukage. It was puke carnage. It was salami and chicken-in-a-biscuit. I do not recommend these foods to ANYONE. It was awful. It got worse, too. On the way home? My dog decided to heave. He heaved and I forced his head out the window. Unfortunately, he heaved into my brand new salamon hiking boot. The left one. In fact, it was disgusting. I had to sit with my sick dog on my lap from the Nevada County line all the way into Sacramento. Meanwhile, his dog puke was getting colder and colder in my boot. Also, it appeared to be buffalo chunks. Anyway, the worst part was the PF laughing at me as he drove on his puke free driver’s side. It was Poinsettia Pukeville.
But it was still better than staying in Sacramento another minute. I’m so glad I went, I’d go again. AND I’d take my dog and sit in puke.
~Amelie, Halloween Weekend in Poinsettia Pukeville.