Craig's List- where the big boys play

I cannot resist posting this one. It's amazing. And might make your head hurt. Via Defamer:


I have a simple request: Would someone like to come over to my place dressed in a long, beige trenchcoat, panama hat, and dark sunglasses, smoking a cigarette? When I open the door (I'll be wearing a polka-dotted dress and wiping my hands on an apron), you will be looking away. You will say, "Is the cake in the oven?" I will hang my head, fight back tears, and invite you in.

We shall move to the bedroom and I shall undress awkwardly, looking upset and ashamed. You will throw me up against the wall and I will scream "Maim me!" as you bite through my strand of cultured (but we'll pretend they're real) pearls, which will fall to the ground and scatter. You will think I've said "Mamie" (as in Eisenhower).

At this point, you will stroke my hair gently and become romantic and tender, renderng unto the First Lady the respect to which she is entitled. Slowly and carefully, you will rub your hand up my thigh. When you reach my genitalia and discover I am genetically male, you will fly into a rage and "rape" me (condoms and lube will be located in an antique snuff box at arm's length; please be discreet in procuring them).

Prior to climaxing, you will push me to the floor, remove your condom (again, discreetly), and ejaculate into my eyes. I will lie in a crumpled, sobbing heap at your feet, softly singing "Happy Birthday, Mr. President." When your semen has dried my eyelashes together (this might take a while; I will have prepared a selection of cold cuts, assorted beverages, and glossy magazines for your entertainment), you will softly clean it out with a sponge dipped in warm milk.

You will hold me in your arms as we await the coming night. When (and whether?) we part again will be determined from that point.

Other than the above, I am not really looking for a specific "scene." Just a chill bro I can kick it with and see where things go.
Laterz

• this is in or around Los Angeles
  
• no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

Today is a good day

Not because I feel all that much better- still coughing too much, thank you. But the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory movie opens today. I've been obsessing about that one for months now. We will probably try to attend later this weekend. I am expecting a life-changing event. No seriously.

And The Wedding Crashers also opens. I have a thing for those boys- Old Scool made me laugh so hard I cried. I adored it. It is a perfect double feature along with Office Space.
I just must remember to pace myself. Weak as a kitten, and don't want to wind up all prostrate on the fainting couch n all.

Once more into the breach

It's time to think happy thoughts again- I have a hopefully final interview on Monday. I'll be sure to focus on the positive, and not give off that reek of desperation.

It's a good one too.

My interview- this time it's personal

From Polly Prissy Pants comes the following:

Here are the instructions:
1. If you want to participate, leave a comment below saying "interview me."
2. I will respond by asking you five questions -- each person's will be different.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview others in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

So, let's play! Tally ho:

1. Seeing as you're from Seattle: Starbuck's - love or hate, or indifferent? Is the latte half-empty or half-full?

I'm new to the Seattle scene. Prior to about a month ago when I read that waiters/waitresses hated serving tea, I was a tea aficianado. And I was decaffed until about December. But now I drink coffee. And Tullys for me. Starbucks won't hire me, so I say fuck them. Unless they're reading this and reconsider the hiring thing. Then I'll be their bitch forever. And latte is always half-empty. The rest is milk.

2. What is your biggest fault? Answer the way you secretly wish you had been able to during that interview...

My biggest fault would probably lack of patience. I'm always looking for something to excite me, and move on once they get boring. And I am a silly optimist when it comes to thinking that things will be easy. Sometimes they are, but the job thing has kind of exposed the shortfall of that approach. And I get bitchy when people are slow. Driving in particular. Or in stores- or good God- art fairs. Women sauntering along with 20 foot wide strollers and fucking stopping- for no reason... I had better stop here- too many flaws- not enough time.

3. What is the strangest/most interesting thing you ever molded out of clay?

Clay is life. I did a series of pieces using porcelain that I devised a recipe for that were paper thin and looked kind of like flowers. It was the most demanding and fun thing ever. Until my glaze chemistry broke down and I opened a kiln at the end of the semester and found shards. The glaze had pulled the pieces apart. Luckily I had been successful earlier and had some pieces to show. But those were the best. I need a studio and some money to get rolling on those again someday.

4. If you had a clone, what would you do with it? Would you have sex with yourself?

I would send the clone on job interviews. That way I could blame someone else for not getting the job. And I don't swing that way, so no, I wouldn't have sex with my clone. I would teach her how to play cribbage (If I could remember how myself) and get good at it.

5. OK Miss Art History - if Mona Lisa could talk, what would she say??

STOP LOOKING AT ME!!! No- I think she would say, Leonardo, my darling, make me look pretty. It's hard to say whether or not it was a realistic or idealized portrayal of her. She might've had smallpox at some point and had the scariest skin possible. If so, then she was delighted with the results. I also don't know if this portrait was meant to snag her a spouse- if so, I hope it worked. I thought that there was still plenty of questions surrounding her identity, too- so I just dunno. She kind of gives me the creeps, though. I think it's the lack of eyebrows. And I think that Dan Brown is chock full of crap when it comes to the Da Vinci Code. I was disappointed in the ham fisted deneument of the book. But I think she would be pleased to be such a focus of attention after all of this time. And to be featured in a movie starring Tom Hanks.

Last night

About 2:30 I was watching a silly romance Pierce Brosnan/Julienne Moore movie. I would've written on the old bloggo, but had made a pact with myself to never blog when I should be sleeping (it's kind of like calling while drunk- bad news- I should keep some inhibitions intact).

Anyway, what seemed so riveting last night/this morning really wasn't, and I don't have much interesting to say today. Too tired. Gonna watch tivoed movies and nap.

Hooray!

Hockey is Back!!!

And whatever. I don't give a shit. Really. I was totally faking it. Cuz I just felt like jerking someone's chain a little.

I'm not sleeping worth shit and am getting a leetle testy. Poor spouse took this week off for vacation, and hasn't had much fun with his wife. No going to museums. He's going solo. Poor boy. Blame the flu. And blame Canada. Why? Because they love hockey. And I like circular logic. It comforts me.

And finally, lest ye forget, MT is home to one of the world's largest nuclear arsenals. Here is one of them. I won't tell you where, but suffice it to say, this is not an uncommon sight thereabouts.

In Choteau you can buy Ice Cream- and dinosaurs! Seriously- who made that connection? It's either marketing genius, or just silly. And there are actually 2 Ice Cream parlors in Choteau. I don't quite get it.

On the road- the whitest clouds I've ever seen over the Beartooths.

Spouse's bike from childhood. Soon to be disassembled in our living room (I predict).

On our trip- near the deathcar incident. Definately back roads of MT- very, very off the beaten track. The spots are kamikaze bugs.

Roadtrip pictures. This guy is an antelope (for those of you not familiar) and can run like hell. My Dad says that they'll run themselves to death- just cuz they're kinda dumb.

And just for fun

My mother and step-father sat behind David Letterman at the rodeo a week ago. They were cool, and didn't say anything to him besides hi.

Mom said that he was very kind to his wife (?- did they actually get married?), and gentlemanly. She was impressed. I don't know what she expected, but she was impressed.

Anyhoo- celeb sighting of the week n all.

And furthermore

Part of my nostalgia tour 2005, I'm re-watching movies of my youth. Today is Blue Velvet. I gotta admit- I never made it all the way through the first and only time I attempted it before. The creepy atmosphere was too much for me, and I failed. Probably has a lot to do with being in Missoula, living in the Sacajawea Lodge at the time.

Or maybe I was just more of a wuss then. And Spouse saw it in High School. What a man he was! He was obsessed with Isabella Rosselini at the time, along with Louise Brooks. But he married a tall blond. I don't get it. But I'm sure as hell not complaining.

And he shares a birthday with David Lynch, and Federico Fellini. I share mine with Salman Rushdie. I love facts like that. Meaningless.

But yeah- Blue Velvet. Kyle was a pretty puppy. And overall, it's visually stunning.

Tomorrow I'm planning on watching The Young Poisoner's Handbook. Then I'll drift through The Story of Adele H. All in a good week's work.

Clowns to the left of me

Jokers to the right...

Here I am- stuck with a fuckwit who doesn't actually have auto insurance- hitting our cute little car- on my birthday- and making my lovely Spouse all aggrivated. Lucky for us our insurance agent is wonderful (until we see this reflected in our rates, despite their assurances otherwise- call me jaded). But you can betcha that when and if I see that cockknocker again, I'll be giving him a blistering earful of venom.

There. I feel much better now. Thank you. Have a nice day.

Gotta love famous murder weapons.

From MSNBC.com-

MEXICO CITY - One of history’s most infamous murder weapons, the icepick police believe was used to kill Russian revolutionary Leon Trotsky, has resurfaced just weeks before the 65th anniversary of his assassination.

Tests to authenticate the weapon have been delayed by a dispute between the current owner, who may hope to sell it, and Trotsky’s grandson, who wants it for his museum — evidence of the ongoing struggle between socialist ideals and capitalism.

The icepick is in the hands of Ana Alicia Salas, whose father apparently removed it from an evidence room while serving as a secret police commander in the 1940s. She is considering selling the foot-long mountaineer’s icepick, but hasn’t decided on a price.

(I'll be surprised if it doesn't wind up in that infamous casino...the one that buys Virgin Mary sandwiches, et. al.)

Hacking up a lung

Since I seem to have the flu, and can't stop coughing, I can't sleep in like I want.

And my mind is churning around in circles. All seemingly prompted by those stupid yearbooks. Burn them...maybe an exorcism of sorts. But I've learned to regret impulsive actions that have that air of finality.

I've been reflecting on my secret life as a teenager. I was a feral little thing with a veneer of respectability that I was finally able to cast off in college. It's really quite good that I never dabbled in drugs until graduate school (and then only pot- and only for a very short time)- or I would've been lost, I'm pretty sure. And I only drank on 3 occasions in high school.

But then there was the bad part of growing up in a smallish town. Boredom. What do you do if you don't drink or do drugs? What if you don't have a large circle of friends to hang with? Well, I drove a lot with the few friends that I had. I put tons of mileage on the truck I drove. And since my dad paid for the gas, it wasn't a problem.

And then there were the boys. I seriously thought that I could escape it all through one of them. And there were a couple of very benign relationships in those years. But also a couple of very malignant ones too. The worst almost killed me. (literally in a sense, and figuratively as well) And the best made me stronger. But at the core was boredom. I probably wouldn't have been so immersed in all of that garbage if there were more to do in that silly little town. And I'll admit that I didn't take full advantage of the activities provided by the school- I just learned yesterday that there was an actual Latin Club. Who knew? I tended towards the solitary pursuits for the most part (that introvert thing again).

If we were to play the "Which character of the Breakfast Club are you?" game, I would say - Ally Sheedy. Only I talked a lot. And laughed a lot. And found almost everything funny.

More, more, more

So last night Spouse and I were looking back in time. I had already plundered his home for his yearbooks ages ago. And now he had the opportunity to review mine. I will say this- for about a decade or so, all Montana children looked the same. I am older, and there were fewer mullets in mine, but the puffy 80s hair on the girls was pretty much universal.

I can't help but look back with a strange combination of sadness and envy. Sadness because I was such an unhappy thing at the time. And envy at the endless-seeming potential of that era in my life. I thought that I could do anything. Anything. And then I grew up. And learned that there are limits. And that this isn't necessarily a bad thing.

I also look at those pictures and wonder what became of some of them. Especially a few choice friends whose lives wandered away early on. I was a strange mixer back then. Drama, Art, Geeks and the stoner kids. I really didn't have much to do with the intellectuals- they were a little too into their alleged superiority. I really did like the stoner kids, though. At least the girls- most of the boys were kind of angry and edgy- and not very nice. But the girls were different. Damaged little things. I see that now. They were all going out with older guys who should've not gone there. And they all wanted salvation. One in particular was really great. But I didn't really pursue the friendship outside of school- her trajectory was sharply tilted downwards, and I didn't really want to go along for the ride. I do hope she's ok out there. It's a bad sign to be snorting Rush in study hall- and I picked up on that. But she was funny and sweet and sad.

We had an odd class. 5 of them died within the first year of graduation- several were suicides, and one was a homicide (according to some reports)/suicide (according to the police). And then one (a friend in Jr. high) died of brain cancer very young. And one drowned. I could've gone to my reunion and found out the rest of the stories, but I went to my sister's wedding instead. And was ok with that. The bitterness wore off so slowly- and bits are still there. I think I could handle it, but I don't really relish the thought of going back to where I was.

Spouse had several girls who wrote their numbers in his books. I didn't have that kind of thing going on. But there were entries that really illustrated that I was kind of a mystery to most of them. Probably because I was a combo of shy and extrovert. I would wear new wave regalia that made me stand out visually, but not really let anyone in to get to know me. I was terrified of rejection. And all of them. I wonder if I still am.

So last night

While we relaxed post drive (I think I picked up the flu on the trip- so feel a leetle icky), and watched last week's F1 Race, and recap of yesterday's Tour, I looked through my old High School yearbooks. It was the first time in over a decade that I've ventured there. I found them in the boxes of books I sorted through while at the ranch. (I'm proud of myself- I donated over 5 boxes to the library up there- I blame Scott for the inspiration.)

So it was odd seeing those faces. These people were my world. Some good, some rotten. And now some dead and some forgotten. I wonder if I would recognize any of them today. And vice versa. I must say that other than not having 80s puffy hair, and a few pounds on my frame, I don't look all that different (I think that not having kids has kept me pretty youthful). But I'm imagining that the guys that I thought were sooo hot back in the day might look rather nasty with extra poundage and less hair.

I spent time reading what was written in the books too. It made me kinda sad- I think that if I hadn't been such an angry, unhappy little wreck, I could've made better friends of some of those people. They were pretty nice. But at the time, I was very invested in the feeling of being the outsider. Thank God I didn't know about The Cure or The Smiths at that point- I probably would've been a Goth. And that would've been really rough.

It's just funny seeing all of those people who really, really mattered to me back in the day. I can't even remember many of them. Even past boyfriends. (some of those still make me shudder, though). I think that I was just too damned serious at too young of an age. Too intense. Too busy looking for someone to save me. Too lacking in the ability to not care.

No kitten for me.

The trip was also supposed to yield a new kitten. But when we got to the ranch, and saw the kittens, we discovered that they were the babies of Satan, himself. And the one that my Mom managed to pick up bit her in the hand, screamed, and ran away. We figure that we don't want that one. And then Mama Cat (who MUST be stopped) hid them. But that's ok. They were cute, but not appropriate for our little kitty tribe. Spouse was highly relieved not to have to drive from MT to Seattle with a kitten in the car. The weenie. I saw it as a potential adventure. After all, I am the one who had to drive the cats on the last two roadtrip/moves. 600-1500 miles of kitty goodness.

I'm back, and it was fun.

So now it rains. We got back last night after a pretty quick 10 hour drive. MT was good. We saw the new baby niece (love her very much- and appreciate that someone else in the family had first baby). We saw a very green state (unusual this time of year). Got to see a fireworks display in Billings bankrolled by the Montana Tavern Owner's Association (my family is part of that group- I was so proud)- and heard "Proud to be an American" - and tried not to giggle too hard about the whole stereotypical nature of it all.

It was good to get away from my job-free prison. And no, no good news yet on that front. I'm still waiting.

We did see something kind of nasty. We were driving the back roads from Billings to Helena (via Martinsdale on State Route 294, fyi) and saw a disturbing car wreck. We wouldn't have noticed the car on the other side of the road in the ditch on its top if there weren't 4 sheriff's cars there. And I knew that the Audi had at least one dead person in it- no one was trying to get someone out. That's a good indicator of that kind of thing. Spouse figured out the car type- the wheels. I didn't get a good look. Didn't want to see anything. But then we got the real confirmation that someone was good and dead. We passed the ambulance a bit later- dawdling along, without lights on. And that was that.

The next day at my Mother's ranch, we saw in the paper that a 22 year old guy from Clancy had wrecked his car at 4 AM the night before. We passed the scene around 10:30. So it took that long for them to discover the car. It made me very sad. I can only hope that he died quickly, and didn't suffer too much.

So screw em I say.

I haven't heard whether or not I got the temp job. Yeah. The temp job that I interviewed for. Whatever. So, since I obviously won't be starting a new job on Tuesday, I am going to MT. So there. And while I'm there, I will enjoy a new kitten, see my new niece, visit various wonderful relatives and friends, and road trip with Spouse. I always enjoy our road trips. With the sole exception of moving truck road trips- that's part of moving, which is never fun.

So we'll leave early tomorrow, and be gone until next week. I doubt that I'll be adding much here before I get back- Mom is on dialup. But I will have pictures!

Wing nuts on the wheel

So remember the car accident we had on my birthday? Yeah, so do I. Well, it seems that the whack job who hit us has recanted. Despite apologizing on the scene, and admitting that he didn't see us, and irrefutable physical evidence to the contrary, he is denying that he broadsided our lovely little convertable with his ugly old rustbucket truck. The fucker. So Spouse spent hours last night on Google sattelite maps making elaborate charts and diagrams that show that there is NO WAY that we could have been at fault. It's just not physically possible. Not with the current laws of physics firmly in place. And I haven't heard this wing nut denying those yet. But it could happen.

So what has happened to our claim? Well it goes to arbitration. Yup. The companies are going to discuss it amongst themselves. And I might get to talk to investigators. Lucky me. I'll be nice, I promise. But I'll be quite clear. The bozo hit our asses. On my birthday. I hope he has bad dreams and hears my screams in his sleep. I curse him thusly.

Still no news

I'm still waiting to hear about the job. And it's kind of making me cranky. I would really like to know- I've never had this happen with a temp agency before. It's goofy. Not only the interview (wha?) but the whole making me wait thing. Every temp job I've had in the past (and there have been plenty) was just assigned. You showed up. And did the job. And then it was over. And all was well in the world. But this is some heavy shit.

So we wait. Fuck them I say. I want to work, but I also want to be given at least 24 hours worth of warning that I have a job. Target is looking better and better every day!

Ok now I'm bummed

And no, it's not cuz Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck got married. Good for them. Whatever.

It's the Sandra Day O'Connor thing. It is really too bad. She's quite a person. And I've grown to really respect her. I think that one of the most admirable qualities about her career on the Supreme Court has been her insistence to actually cast her lot with whatever side she believed in, rather than being an empty-souled ideologue. She has integrity. And I might not agree with every decision that she made (eg. the election of 2000), but I do believe that she puts the Constitution first, and politics second on most things (with the exception of election 2000...sigh...).

The worst thing possible has happened, however. Not only is her husband sick- and I really do feel bad for her- that's really not good. But also, now our boneheaded President gets to choose a Supreme Court Justice. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Bet he'll choose a real corker. I thnk that we can look forward to some really nasty confirmation hearings. Y'all think that the current ones look nasty, just wait. I predict that he'll choose some right-wing wingnut with a serious anti-choice agenda. It'll only get ugly from there. And that makes me very sad. I hate what that man has done to our country- viz a viz the division of ideology. It really doesn't have to be that way. I am hoping that by the time the next election comes around, there'll be more incentive towards moderation. Yeah, and pigs will fly. But I can hope, no?

Yesterday...

I had my 9th job interview. At Washington Mutual. For a bloody temp job. Yup. For a temp job. I've never had to interview for one of those before. And funny thing, I don't think I got it. This is getting downright stupid! I don't go in there in cutoffs. I don't scratch my ass. (at least not during the interview). I don't swear openly. I don't talk crazy about my cats. So I just don't get it.

Then I went and talked to the rather caustic woman in charge of admissions for U of W's Law School. She was gouty. And was trying awfully hard to give me the impression that a) I'm too old for such nonsense as going to school, b) I'm just not all that shining an example, and really ought to check out an "inferior" school, and c) don't count on it, honey. Yeah, I didn't get in the first time, but have been assured by others that it's really not such a big deal, the second time can really be a charm.

So fuck her gouty nasty, tennis shoes with a dress and white ankle socks ass. I signed up to take the LSATs again in October (righto- that will be one hell of a treat- but this time I don't have to travel to Ellensburg to do it), and signed up for a class on Saturdays to help get the studying under way.

And today I talked to the wonderful people at Seattle University admissions, and got a shiny happy feeling. So- it might happen after all. I had about given up. But nothing compelling has presented itself so far, so I don't see why not.

All I have to do in the meantime is get a job. I'm starting to think seriously about grocery stores in the area. Maybe Target. I dunno.

Scariest thing ever

The scariest thing I've ever read in my life was The Mist, by Stephen King. Damn. Scary as anything in the world. I almost couldn't finish it. Lots of his stuff is inventive, but clunky. He is brilliant at coming up with ideas, but his style can be -well, we'll be nice and say it could use some work. Especially his awkward sex scenes. They're cringeworthy.

I should re-read the story- and see if it still scares the bejeesus out of me. Betcha it does. I had nightmares about it.

Why am I thinking about this? I dunno. Just thinking about scary stuff. That's all. I cannot sit through scary movies (Silence of the Lambs took me 6 hours to get through- and it had to be during the day). So books are about the only exposure I get. And that's very selective. Anyway, just felt like chatting.

So, what am I doing all day?

Between scrambling for jobs, I have been watching tons of 1930's situational comedies on Tivo. The only thing I'm really missing, is a sense of context. I really can't tell if these were considered A list or B list productions. The only litmus I have is that if the gowns were designed by Adrian, it's probably A list.

So I am in love with the young Robert Montgomery. And with Robert Taylor. And with William Powell. And Clark Gable- prior to GWTW.

Myrna Loy is wonderful. I'm glad to see a hometown girl do so very well.

Existentialist crisis

So I had this kind of difficult conversation with my mom yesterday. She is worried that I'm losing focus on what I'm doing with my life. Well, that's not a hard thing to do right now. I feel stymied at every turn. And I have been making short-term and long-term plans- and they don't actually have a lot to do with eachother. She just doesn't want me to invest tons of money and time in something I don't want to do. And I don't have any guarantees.

It's just really hard to grow up. I just have this kind of sinking feeling that I have a purpose, but that I haven't exactly found it. I have had moments (years even) when I had that purpose. But then things changed and the purpose didn't fit anymore. And maybe I was quick to abandon old goals once achieved. But they were never enough to keep me going happily along. I get bored relatively easily if something doesn't keep me learning.

And the really tough thing is that she made the "clock is ticking- you're getting really OLD for this stuff, kiddo" reference. Yeah. Sadly, I can foresee being in this kind of mental state for the rest of my life. I really don't think I'm fully equipped to stop and settle for one big thing. I can see myself using past experiences for a foundation to go in new directions. But at the moment, I'm just kind of stuck in an odd limbo.

And this isn't a blog entry with answers- it's just rambling. This stuff kept me awake last night long past the point of usefulness.

No MT for me

So I'm starting a temp job next Tuesday. The salad days appear to be over. This is not all bad. The drawback- I don't get to go on the trip. We decided that it's a far better thing I do...

On the STRONG upside- the Tour starts on Sunday. It's my other sport passion. I totally love the Tour. It makes me such a happy girl to get up and watch OLN coverage. I love Phil Liggitt. I love the whole shebang.

Spouse will just have to handle the road trip solo. Poor boy. It'll be good in that he can drive with the top down (he just doesn't burn like I do). But he'll lack my sparkling conversation. Or at least he's smart enough to tell me so...

In the tradition of Vanity Fair

The magazine- not the book (I'm no Becky Sharp, thank you), I've decided that I'm bored enough to take the Proust Questionnaire (and it's Proust month!).

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Knowing that I'm doing what I'm meant to be doing with my life. Sadly it changes, and the challenge is finding that something again.

What is your greatest fear?
That nobody will like me anymore.

What historical figure do you most identify with?
Elizabeth Barrett Browning- at least today.

Which living person do you most admire?
Kent.

What is your greatest extravagance?
Taking so much time reading books and watching old movies.

What is your favorite journey?
Wherever good books transport me.

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Patience- I think it causes people to settle too often for a substandard reality.

What do you dislike most about your appearance?
The scar on my back.

Which living person do you most despise?
Right now it would probably be an ex-employer who just can't seem to get his/her head out of his/her ass.

What or who is the greatest love of your life?
Duh- Kent.

When and where were you happiest?
When I was 5 years old.

If you could change on ething about your family, what would it be?
My Grandmother would still be alive.

What is your most treasured possession?
My sanity. It's been a battle, at times, but I still have it.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Being stuck. In a job, in a bad relationship, in a path that doesn't make you happy in any way.

What is your favorite occupation?
Right now it's a toss up between gardening and writing.

What do you most value in your friends?
Their ability to understand my sense of humor, and play along.

Who are your favorite writers?
Proust, Mary Doria Russell, Salman Rushdie, J.K.Rowling, plenty of others- it could be a long list.

Who is your favorite hero of fiction?
Harry Potter.

Who are your heroes in real life?
Social workers and teachers who give a damn and do their jobs well despite the odds against their success.

What are your favorite names?
I dunno.

What is your motto?
Jacta alea est. (the die is cast- Julius Ceasar upon crossing the Rubicon)

She’s not a threat to anyone- MY ASS!

From MSNBC.com:

ATLANTA - Furious that their romance was ending, a 78-year-old great-grandmother shot her 85-year-old ex-beau to death as he read the newspaper in a senior citizens home, police said.

“I did it and I’d do it again!” Lena Driskell yelled to officers who arrived at the home June 10, according to testimony. Police said she was wearing a bathrobe and slippers, waving an antique handgun with her finger still on the trigger.

She is accused of plotting the shooting of Herman Winslow because she was angry that their yearlong romance was ending and he had found another companion.

Driskell was released on a $25,000 bond and placed under house arrest after a hearing Friday. Fulton County Superior Court Judge Richard Hicks stipulated she must wear an ankle monitor and live with her granddaughter Lena Holt.

“I don’t want her on the streets,” Hicks said. “Who knows how many other guns she has?”

After the nasty breakup with Winslow, she kept showing up uninvited at his apartment in Hightower Manor, the complex for seniors where they lived, Detective D.B. Mathis said. A security guard tried to calm her down, but Driskell drew out her gun, pressed it to Winslow’s head and fired up to four times, Mathis said.

At the hearing Friday, defense attorney Deborah Poole stressed Driskell’s clean criminal record and said she had had the gun since 1957. “She’s not a threat to anyone,” Poole said.

Driskell whispered angrily to her lawyer when the detective recounted her confession.

Her granddaughter, who was named for her, said Driskell and Winslow had shared a bank account and a love for traveling

“What drove her to something like this is beyond me,” a teary Holt said outside the courthouse.

“We have no control over what she did, but we are very sorry,” Holt said.

( I wonder if Tom Cruise would personally assist her in getting sane again...)

Pretty cool!

I don't often indulge in writing about celebs, unless it was a personal encounter (or one by a friend). But I gotta laugh really hard. Seems that Tom Cruise was on the Today show and got into a bit of a fracas with Matt Lauer about the whole psychiatry thing. And he summed up his bias against psychiatry by saying, "you don't know the history of psychiatry. I do." God that's really cool! Not only is he a movie star, but he's found time in his busy schedule to get a degree in the history of psychiatry! What a man! He's my rather giddy hero! Saw him on Letterman last night, and think he was huffing the nitrous pretty heavily before going out. He had that whole Blue Velvet, Dennis Hopper kinda vibe going on. I half expected him to put Letterman in a half-nelson whilst screaming, "You can't HANDLE the truth!"

It's just getting funny, if'n you asks me.

Reminders- Proustian moment #1

I was reading on another lovely blog about finding compilation Cds from relationships past. Kinda like the whole Dickensian thing. And it brought up memories. And I did happen to find a compilation cassette that I made for someone- in the 80s. Early 80s. I know that it's kind of a Nick Hornbyesque thing to discuss compilation tapes- and I have read High Fidelity and all. The book and movie left me kinda cold. Not my favorite of his. I preferred About A Boy, but I digress.

Much like eating a Madeline in tea (for Proust), listening to this tape conjured up all kinds of mental monkeys. And one of the biggest questions was why did I think that inflicting Heat of the Moment on some poor 16 year old schmuck was a good thing? Sadly, Helena, MT wasn't a cool enough town to play The Cure/The Smiths (see earlier post- I can NEVER tell them apart- probably lack of cognitive exposure). We had stoopid FM buttrock. So I used Journey, Asia, Styx, and sadly Golden Earring as my muse. With some Boston. It was a downright revelation when we got MTV (I was about 16) and I saw that there was some really fun stuff out there- and it wasn't shown on Night Flight.

So back to the tape of doom. It also illustrated that my memory for 70/80s song lyrics is rock solid. I can wail away to Babe, or More Than A Feeling (and maybe not hit all of the high notes...) like a pro. Spouse has found this amusing, and has learned Hotel California on the guitar to take advantage of my previously hidden talents. It's kinda scary. I don't remember the words to songs post-high school. Not easily. Makes me wonder how the brain is divided up. Did college take up that much extra space? Yeah- I do remember esoteric nuances from Max Weber (damn him to eternal hells...) and plenty of other intellectually fucked up crap, but where did the music go? Or should I just blame Michael Stipe for singing in such an indeciperable way as to start a trend of muddy vocals?

Anyway, that's enough of a Proustian moment for today. I have Lights by Journey in my head and need to turn on CNN to drown out that big-nosed little monkey.

What to do, what to do...

And now I have to figure out the next direction job-wise. I'm kind of at a loss. I guess it's really time to do some networking. I've tried, and that's how I got the last two interviews...it's just hard to keep the hope alive. But both of the last rejections were very gentle and kind. And I believe sincerely that neither was a personal condemnation. It just makes the summer suck.

But in good news, I guess- if I can spin it a touch- I can now go home to MT in early July with Spouse and see everyone- and maybe get a kitten. I was looking at missing the trip due to a freshly born job. But we know what happened there. I would also get to see the baby niece. So let's look on the bright side. of life.

General fashion observation

I noticed an odd trend in Montreal. Actually, we all did- it was very difficult to miss. There seems to be an abundance of small (teeny, tiny) thin women with huge (gigantic!) chests in that city. And they all wear extremely tall shoes. Even to a racetrack where they have to walk in dirt. Many of these women appeared to be on the verge of toppling over. It was unsettling.

As was the mole on the back of the woman sitting in front of me at the race. It looked really bad. We know from eavesdropping that her husband was a plastic surgeon (and a real dick- from the way he was discussing his patients). I don't understand why he wouldn't have looked at that mole and gotten her promptly into the dermatologist. Right away. And she was getting plenty of sun on it...

I have a special sensitivity to the whole mole/sun thing- some of you know that a little over a year ago I had a stage 1 melanoma removed from my back. It was the most frightening period of my life. I didn't know whether or not the cancer had spread, and felt like my skin was the enemy. It sucked. And I really lucked out. But the reality that it happened remains, and the threat lurks. Believe me, it's not something that anyone wants to experience. So the sunblock and covering up are important.

It didn't help growing up in the 70s when the Ban Du Soleil tan was in. And totally impossible for me. I could muster up a slight flesh tinge if I burned severely, blistered, peeled and re-dosed on sun in a week or so. But it inevitably flaked off after a couple of days. And the pain of the pre-tan burn was just unbelievable. Sheets hurt. Clothes hurt. Tepid showers hurt. And once the pain subsided, the itchy peeling started. And we just didn't know. All about skin cancer. No clue. My best friend in High School was a brunette version of me- pasty in the extreme, but hell bent on tanning. I only hope that she's not had similar problems. At least I didn't ruin my feet with stupid shoes, though. I'll leave that to the French Canadian ladies with the racks.

kitten #2. And don't ever show this kitten- the humiliation would kill him.

kitten #1.

As Spouse put it: Barbies...kittens. And I have no clue where he found them all. He is a genius.

Ok- no wallowing in it, right?

And the winner is? Me. I just got a wonderful message from Spouse. It's the reason I'm still with him almost 15 years later. Not just the intensely fun shared history- but his capacity to come through when I need it. Not in a dramatic way (no rushing home to console me- that would be icky), but in a funny and sweet way. Love him, love him, love him.

Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies

And the verdict comes down- no job for me. At least I made it through 2 interviews. And the person whose unhappy job was to tell me their decision was very kind about it. But that makes for 7 jobs interviewed for, and none acquired. It's hard, very hard not to feel like a loser at this point. So- no, I'm not doing super ok right now, don't ask, please. I'll get over it, and give it more thought and much more effort. Gotta. But right now I think that ice cream is calling my name. And I'll decide whether or not to listen...

Bad kitties today

From msnbc.com:

NAIROBI - A 73-year-old Kenyan grandfather reached into the mouth of an attacking leopard and tore out its tongue to kill it, authorities said Wednesday.

...

M’Mburugu had a machete in one hand but dropped that to thrust his fist down the leopard’s mouth. He gradually managed to pull out the animal’s tongue, leaving it in its death-throes.

...

(Damn. I would probably just mess my pants and die.)

It's raining outside

And I know that my friends in MT will smugly say, "what did you expect- it's bloody Seattle!"

I'm not complaining, though. I actually like the rain. In AZ when we were there- rainy days were a wonderful break from the opressive sunshine. And yes, 300 days or so of sunshine a year is oppressive. Especially when it comes with heat. Withering heat. Heat that is as dangerous and scary as the 30 below winters of MT.

Growing up, I actually liked rainy days. It allowed me the prime opportunity to not go outside and play. I could stay indoors and not face being told to go out. I liked to read. I liked to watch bad 70s tv. In fact, I preferred it. Probably has a lot to do with all of the sunburns that I suffered. Seriously. I burn like crazy. And it really hurts. And what with my recent history of melanoma, my instincts weren't all wrong.

And after rain was kinda fun- we had a dirt road back in the day (paved when I was 10). And there was a huge puddle that formed in front of our house after a good gullywasher. I would virtually bathe in it. It was fun. And I'm sure my mother really appreciated it. My affinity for mud, I mean. Makes the ceramics degree a little more logical, perhaps. But no, I've never wrestled in it with anyone. And considering my fitness level and age, don't think it's in the cards for the future- immediate or otherwise. It would take a lotta money or a whole lotta booze to induce me to do so (and that much alcohol would likely leave me comatose, not in wrestling form).

Anyway- that's the weather report. And I'm sticking to it.

Wow...

Bernie Ecclestone is really a dick.

From msnbc.com:

How could Formula One chief Bernie Ecclestone top his previous comments about IRL racing sensation Danica Patrick? Well, he did.

Last week when asked about Patrick, Ecclestone caused a media stir by saying women "should be all dressed in white like all of the other domestic appliances."

But he apparently outdid himself when he called Patrick and repeated the same line.

Patrick said that Ecclestone called her Saturday morning and, after congratulating her on her fourth-place finish at the Indy 500, again repeated his statement about women, the Indianapolis Star reported Wednesday.

Patrick was stunned, she said, according to the newspaper.

"He told me those things, and I was like, I don't know, I just didn't make sense of it," she said Tuesday, the newspaper reported. "I can't believe he that would say that . . . directly to me."

Patrick said she didn't say anything about Ecclestone's comments earlier because she didn't realize he had said the same thing to reporters, and said she only brought it up when friends asked her about the comments, the newspaper reported.

Patrick, 23, didn't know what to make of Ecclestone's comments, the newspaper reported.

"Unless he was talking about someone else or the majority (of women) or what, I'm not really sure," she said, the Star reported. "Or, maybe that's his real feelings, and if that's the case, then it doesn't really matter because I'm racing in the Indy Racing League."

(impressive. I hope she gets into F1 and kicks some major ass.)

And there's more

From racing-live.f1:

In Britain, the chaos affected betting shops, where thousands of punters were refused refunds after betting on Michelin runners who did not compete, particularly Fernando Alonso, the championship leader, and Kimi Raikkonen, his main rival.

Leading bookmakers, such as William Hill and Ladbrokes, decided to stick to the Formula One rule that cars that take part in the parade lap had started the race, which meant that thousands who backed Raikkonen and Alonso lost their money.

Other bookmakers declared the race null and void and handed back bets.

"It is complete confusion," A spokesman for Ladbrokes said. "We have had to stick to the rules, but the industry has lost a lot of money on this one. It will go further, I am sure of that."

The betting industry could line up behind Europes leading television companies to complain to Ecclestone and the FIA, the sports governing body.

(so they've pissed of the bookies- not so smart...I'm waiting to hear reports of horse's heads on beds, etc.)

And they say cats don't care

From MSNBC.com

ADDIS ABABA, Ethiopia - A 12-year-old girl who was abducted and beaten by men trying to force her into a marriage was found being guarded by three lions who apparently had chased off her captors, a policeman said Tuesday.

The girl, missing for a week, had been taken by seven men who wanted to force her to marry one of them, said Sgt. Wondimu Wedajo, speaking by telephone from the provincial capital of Bita Genet, about 350 miles southwest of Addis Ababa.

She was beaten repeatedly before she was found June 9 by police and relatives on the outskirts of Bita Genet, Wondimu said. She had been guarded by the lions for about half a day, he said.

“They stood guard until we found her and then they just left her like a gift and went back into the forest,” Wondimu said.

“If the lions had not come to her rescue, then it could have been much worse. Often these young girls are raped and severely beaten to force them to accept the marriage,” he said.

'Some kind of miracle'
Tilahun Kassa, a local government official who corroborated Wondimu’s version of the events, said one of the men had wanted to marry the girl against her wishes.

“Everyone thinks this is some kind of miracle, because normally the lions would attack people,” Wondimu said.

Stuart Williams, a wildlife expert with the rural development ministry, said the girl may have survived because she was crying from the trauma of her attack.

“A young girl whimpering could be mistaken for the mewing sound from a lion cub, which in turn could explain why they didn’t eat her,” Williams said.

Ethiopia’s lions, famous for their large black manes, are the country’s national symbol and adorn statues and the local currency. Despite a recent crackdown, hunters kill the animals for their skins, which can fetch $1,000. Williams estimates that only 1,000 Ethiopian lions remain in the wild.

The girl, the youngest of four siblings, was “shocked and terrified” after her abduction and had to be treated for the cuts from her beatings, Wondimu said.

He said police had caught four of the abductors and three were still at large.

Kidnapping young girls has long been part of the marriage custom in Ethiopia. The United Nations estimates that more than 70 percent of marriages in Ethiopia are by abduction, practiced in rural areas where most of the country’s 71 million people live. (emphasis mine)

Bring your own container!

This looks suspiciously similar to a product designed by some friends of mine...I say shenanegans!

Leetle dog in window...watch your ankles.

They're trying...

So goes the official mea culpas:

From Racing-Live.f1-

This ill feeling means the fans are unlikely to take up an offer from the race organisers for next year’s GP. Anyone buying tickets for the 2006 US GP on Sunday was eligible to drive their own road car around the F1 race track on a designated day next year. It sounds like a recipe for disaster and something of a Demolition Derby!

At least there was a chance for the F1 folk to put this weekend behind them and prepare for the trip back home after a hectic fortnight on the North American continent. It came, of course, courtesy of Red Bull, who staged yet another of their legendary parties on Sunday night. It took place in downtown Indianapolis and this time, all the teams joined in!


(Yeah- I'll get new tires on the Grand Am in anticipation...)

Monex?

What's up with Monex? Have any of you seen the ads about buying gold- there's a stuffy blond woman accessorized in gold jewelry touting the advantages of buying gold to the soundtrack of classical music? It's funny. Not only are the tunes supposed to conjure up high-brow elegance, but they're old enough to be royalty free. And the woman- she has an alleged somewhat English accent. I'm not convinced. It's all too calculated- luxury+gold+kept woman with English roots= financial stability. Sadly, if you actually had all of those things, the British little tart would probably be siphoning all of the gold off into a secret Swiss bank account in anticipation to jumping ship with the cabana boy. She looks like she's capable of that. She's not the classy Overstock.com woman. She's more low-rent, and has a touch of desperation.

F1 shitstorm

Yeah- I realize that the majority of my friends don't give a rat's ass about F1- but humor me. It matters to me. I love the sport. Beyond reason. I went on a 3000 mile odyssey to see a race, all the while being the only source of estrogen in the group. It was fun, but you probably get the point that I'm committed to the whole thing.

So Sunday's race fiasco is starting to settle in. The 7 teams who pulled out of the race, and their tire (or tyre) manufacturer (Michelin) are being held accountable for making the whole thing stink. And it could have some really serious fallout for the sport in general. With the protest action of the teams, they showed the FIA (governing body of the sport) that they were willing to tweak noses. And not only was it a fuck you for the FIA and the fans, but to the sponsors, as well. The teams could wind up re-embursing the sponsors for ticket prices, etc. And they could wind up paying the fans for the $100+ per ticket. Stupid move, if'n you ask me. I thought that there had to be a way for them to race, and they were looking for an excuse to tweak Max Mosley(President of the FIA) and show some muscle. I guess that there's talk of a breakaway racing federation starring those teams. Impressive solidarity shown, but I think that the results will be regrettable. Too much ego, not enough attention paid to the fans and our love for their sport.

Car accident

On the way to birthday morning coffee, we got sideswiped by a tattered blue/white pickup truck. Not so bad if it was in my car- it's looking a leetle rough around the edges anyway- the new dents would add more "character". But in Spouse's car baby, it was pretty ugly. I am sad for him. He is very philosophical about it all- probably helps that he has a degree in Philosophy- the training has stuck. But it sucked anyway.

And then there's the F1 race. We were watching the coverage on Speed TV with envy- it looked like a better race than Montreal- and there was more coverage, etc. But then it happened. Fiasco- only 6 Bridgestone clad cars competed- with the 14 Michelin cars pulling out of the race. Total crap if'n you ask me. I wanted Michael to win, but not quite like that. And it's great that Minardi now has more championship points than in their history, but it was a nasty way to do it. The whole thing made me very sad. And I'm very glad that we didn't choose Indy over Montreal. Sorry for doubting you, Montreal! You were faithful and good. You deserved better from me.

But hey- maybe next year, if the race is held there, the tickets might be cheaper...

Birthday weekend

Why settle for only one day- when a whole weekend will suffice?

I was actually born on Father's Day, so feel especially entitled when my birthday falls on FD again- like yesterday. And one of our lovely friends had a baby yesterday- I'm so proud of her! She was 2 weeks early. Perfect entrance, my dear- the first of a long line, I hope! (I was a month early, so know my big moments when I see them).

So there was a microbrew/brewers fest up in Bothell this weekend. It was fun. I have to say that if you ever wind up in Yakima (God forbid), take a moment and go to the Snipe's Mountain brewery. Their beers are very special (not in a tarded way), and something extraordinary. And I'm not saying that cuz I was drunk. I was merely slightly indisposed. There was no headache involved later. At least not one that I noticed.

We also went to my favorite Indian restaurant up in the U district. I have an affinity for the MOST decadent meal on the planet- butter chicken. UMMMM! I dream about the stuff if deprived for too long. Funny- it used to be panang chicken a la Thai that did the trick. Seems like so long ago.

And then last night (after the car accident and the stoopid F1 Indy race) we went to Dave Atell. And yes, I know that there's some irony about me blogging Dave Atell after he made fun of blogging Dave Atell, but I paid for the tickets, and free speech is a good thing.

Dave was funny as hell. I have to say that I can't relate any specifics. And no, I wasn't drunk (unlike plenty who attended). I just have a problem- long standing- that I have never been able to tell or even remember a joke. Never. It sucks. I hear them, laugh, and promptly forget the whole thing. It makes me useless on certain occasions- like blogging Dave Atell. I'll say this much- there are two possibly young (didn't get a good look- hope so or it's even sadder) chippies who need to consider a break in the party action- for the good of their self-esteems. It reminded me of the story our friend told us of the tawdry little things who got into the BAR pits at Montreal by promising to "make it worth your while" to the poor mechanic who didn't know what to do with himself (betcha she helped him figure it all out). I would love to chat with Dave- but in a more meaningful way than "you rock!" "Thanks-er-could you please get out of my way?" "No, really, dude- you rock!"

I guess I'm just not a star fucker. I was thinking about it last night- and chatted over beer and french fries (frites) with Spouse at our neighborhood pub. Back in the 80s, my mother and I were flying back to MT from Puerto Vallarta. We had a layover in LA- and were behind schedule due to inexplicable confusion feuling up the plane (we watched an entirely too confused ground crew trying out the gear for what looked like the first time). We got to the terminal and found Joan Rivers holding court by the entrance to the plane. She was in a full length mink coat, and alone with some guy. All of the people in the area were well aware of her, but playing it pretty cool. Until Star Fuckers 1&2 showed up. They sauntered up to her and introduced themselves and proceeded to make a spectacle of themselves by name-dropping themselves into some kind of B list celebrity frenzy. It was funny as hell. And I was by far too hung-over and sunburned to find much funny. But it also was icky. Oozy kind of icky.

In my mother's hometown (population around 300), they get celeb sightings at the main bar all of the time (certain people have homes/ranches in the area), and it's a point of pride not to bug the celebs when they are in the bar. It's just not done. And I kind of like that. No agenda- just letting these people behave normally.

Anyway- Dave Atell- funny guy, probably interesting to chat with, but not whilst surrounded by hundreds of drunken Seattlites. And seriously, people- suggesting that he go to the fucking Whisky bar? WTF! Do you not realize that the man has an affinity for cheap dives, and probably won't want to discuss the merits of single malt versus double with you? Dumbasses.

Post race walkabout.

Michael qualifying.

Pre-race prep.

This is the closest that I got to Michael- sigh...

Montreal gives a warm welcome.

The land of the lost in Chicago.

Final stretch- or so we thought

And now the fun part begins.

We got to the airport at around 9:30 AM- mostly just to get there, and to get into some air conditioned comfort. The cabbie was a nice man- not a bastard like the first night (yeah, I'm bitter...). We sat with a couple of our friends and had brunch- and I got to talk to a member of the Ferrari team- all about travel logistics. Seems that they travel with 100 or so team members, and plenty of them didn't know any English. There were lots of very short Italian men milling around where we were- all in matching Ferrari outfits. We also saw Michelin team members. It was pretty cool to discuss the race with the guy we spoke to- we found out some of the behind-the-scenes stuff.

Then we waited. Our flight to JFK was scheduled to leave at 1:30PM. We were on time and touched down with no incedent. We got to watch the MJ verdict live from the terminal- and I spent plenty of time watching people in our area.

The flight from JFK was delayed from the start. We took off about an hour late. No biggy, methought, but then it got interesting. Our seats were directly behind first class- and I had the best seat on the plane for the ensuing drama. I was on the aisle behind the bathroom- we were by the door.

Not too long after we reached cruising altitude, something odd happened. The flight crew were milling around the bathroom in front of me. I thought that it was broken- and some burly guy from 1st class looked in there (I thought he was an airline employee- but he was something else entirely). Then the burly guy locked the bathroom from the outside and returned to his seat.

The flight attendants were acting a little nervous- one of them was making a list of passengers on a napkin. I was thinking it was people who used the bathroom. Then the captain announced that we were diverting to Chicago to "deal with a little problem with the plane- it should take about 7 minutes." Right. The flight attendants were acting a little too jittery for it to be something little.

We landed very quickly- no dilly dallying around at all- also a little suspicious. Once on the ground, the burly guy and another burly guy revealed themselves to be fucking air marshals. They didn't let us move at all, and watched us all very closely. I saw emergency vehicles rushing out to our plane on a side runway. Dozens of them. It got very creepy at that point.

The bomb sniffing dog came on board- and promptly came right up to us. Nice dog, but I wasn't exactly interested in being friends. He sniffed Spouse's crotch and was pulled away. He smelled the bathroom and found nothing. A Chicago policewoman announced that a small electronic device had been found in the bathroom. No one confessed to owning it, so they decided to empty the plane to search it with the dogs.

We were the first off the plane after first class. As we left the plane, I saw what looked like around 50-75 law enforcement and fire people. We got on a bus and were shipped to the terminal. They also pulled about 10 people to question. We saw the FBI guys come through the door, and the people were returned to their families. It was creepy. They gave us water and snacks and we waited. We weren't sure if they would let us continue that night, or if we would be spending the night in Chicago.

Finally, at around 10:30 we were able to get back on the plane. By last name. Fucking A. We're pretty far down on the alphabet, so it wasn't fun.

Once in the air, we did ok- we got to finish watching the stupid zebra horse racing movie that was cut off earlier. And I will always think of this flight when I see Debra Messing- we watched that rent boy movie that she starred in as well. The flight crew was a little frayed, and the air marshalls were gone (they had outed themselves, so I presume they were pulled).

We got to Seattle around 1:00AM. Sadly, there was a group of people who were flying back to JFK that night. We got home around 2:30, and the adventure was over.

So I guess that I'm glad overall that they handled the whole thing well- we didn't get blown up. That's good. I could've used free drinks, and more than snacks, but they weren't offering. Stupid American Airlines. I think that we will probably shop around a bit more next time we fly.

In summation- the trip was fun- Montreal is cool (but temp wise not so much)- the F1 race was great- and my first flight since 1998 was dramatic.

Day 3- Almost home

I should probably include the 3:00 AM communal shower (and no, I wasn't part of that action) as day 2, but it was officially on Sunday. The guys were yelling- I suspect that they were our drunken Canadians of Day 1. They were saying that they should just pee in the showers whilst taking a shower. I must say- ewww. Good thing that I wasn't using that bathroom- I was going down to the 3rd floor instead.

We got up pretty early in order to get to the track and watch some of the other races- the Ferrari Challenge was fun. Lots of smacking walls and eachother. Which is a shame when you consider that these were lovely cars and privately owned. But the guys have plenty of money, and seemed to enjoy the race.

Some things not seen on F1 TV coverage- they have a drive around when they introduce the drivers to the crowds. Our seats were good for this- we could stand up and see the vintage Austins that were lined up behind the stands in the old pit lane. I took some pics- I'll post some later, methinks.

So they also do this lame little UN walk about in the pit area that is on the jumbotron- thank God that they didn't walk the entire track- it would've taken all bloody day.

The weather was a little cooler- according to the Tivo'd coverage we've been watching, it was 92 degrees with 60+% humidity for days 1 & 2. But on race day it was breezy and cloudy. Nice.

The race itself was tremendously fun. A bit confusing since we're used to tv coverage, and it's kinda a challenge to keep track of the cars. But it was really cool.

Then comes fun. After the race, we broke through the fences and got on the track. Spouse got injured by a rebar post smacking him in the chest- I'll try to post a picture- if he cooperates. I also was in kinda bad shape by that time- my feet were badly blistered, and the heat was really tough on them. But we toughed it out.

There were over 120,000 people at the race- which I'm told broke attendance records. That makes sense, since the night before we walked around downtown and saw amazing crowds.

Post race we wandered the track, picked up some tire rubber and gradually filtered back to the downtown area where we met a great guy named Ahmed (our waiter) who was moving to NYC in 2 weeks. I wish him the best- he deserves it.

We drank fine French beer in the dorm hallway and crashed pretty early- we were all leaving at different times, and it was a long trip home.

Day 2- Montreal

Ahh qualifying. We slept in- and missed the morning practice sessions. Ok by us, as I was feeling the sleep deprivition pretty badly by that point.

Afternoon qualifying was cool. We were with a couple of young boys, and their enthusiasm was fun to watch, along with the cars.

Afterwards, we took time out and went to the contemporary art museum. It was worth it. The older permanent collection was shit. Pretty staid, not very interesting, and derivative of more famous artists.

But the new acquisitions were tremendous. The musee has a tendency towards installation pieces and video. Pretty risky in some ways, and interesting. Some of the videos were lame. But what I noticed that was great was the whimsical and fun nature of a lot of the art exhibited. Really funny, good stuff.

There was an area dominated by about 4 seriously OCD artists, whose work made my head hurt when I thought about how many hours they spent putting it all together.

Then there was the goofiest and most fun piece of the show. You entered a room that was seemingly empty except for about 10 bike lights mounted on the walls on either side, and what appeared to be a video camera at the ceiling in front of the room. As you walked along, the lights flickered to life, and there was a humming sound. We didn't know what was triggering the lights, and got all goofy figuring it out. Then I had an epiphany. I went out and read the artist's statement. Here goes.

Seems that the artist, working with the Montreal Criminal Justice system, provided an outlet for people serving community service. They can clean the streets, or sit in the museum on exercise bikes in little rooms on either side of the main room, and power the lights. Yup. Soylent Green is made of people, people, and the art was powered by Montreal's finest misdemeanors. We were joking about just standing in there for an inordinant amount of time and pissing off the criminals. Then getting beaten on the street by an unknown assailant who recognized us from the closed-circuit camera. Goofy and fun.

Day 1- Montreal

It was hot and hazy. And the University is at the top of the hill. And our dorm is at the top of the top of the hill. So we walked down the hill, got on the metro and went to the track. Montreal is pretty- I really liked it. The people, with the exception of the bastard cabby from the first night and the beeitch in the F1 shop who wouldn't lower her gouging prices after the race, were wonderful. And it didn't really matter that my French is pitiful- I tend to revert to an embarrasing combo of Russian, German, Spanish and idiocy when confronted with a foreign land. At least the volume of my voice doesn't go up to compensate...

Practice was wonderful. The cars are amazing. It's loud as hell, and the day was about 90 degrees, with around 70% humidity. But I wasn't complaining- it was just so much fun to see.

They also had other types of racing that weekend. We were able to see the pits for the other races- including a close-up look at a 53 Maserati that was driven up from LA with a team competing in the Ferrari Challenge. Lovely, lovely car, and great group of guys.

Let's start at the beginning

I just got back from my 6th job interview (ye gods- when will it end???), and am ready to tell about our troubled, but fun vacation.

We left with high hopes last Thursday. We had a 2 hour layover in Chicago, and expected to be in Montreal by 11:00 PM or so. Well. I saw Morgan Freeman in the Seattle airport- that was nice. And I didn't make a starfucker ass of myself, I left him alone. The Seattle moving walkway told Spouse that "matter can be neither seated nor destroyed" - cryptic enough, but fine.

On our flight to Chicago there was a nasty florid little man who made an ass of himself when he wanted more than one canned beverege. We shunned him. I called him Princess pouty pants.

Then it got interesting. In Chicago, we found that our connecting flight to Montreal was delayed. By 4 hours. So our layover was 6 hours in duration- and we were shuttled off to the LAND THAT TIME FORGOT in the airport basement. We waited, and watched people, and I read almost 200 pages of Proust. When we finally got in the air, all was well.

We arrived in Montreal around 2:00 AM. Our friends were already asleep in the dorm of McGill University- where we were staying. It was really hot and muggy, and our cab driver ripped us off by charging too much to take us to the dorm. The fucker.

Once there, we made friends with the drunken Canadians at the door, and finally got to our room. It was on the 7th floor, aka "The Penthouse", and had one twin bed. And all along I thought that I would never have another dorm room sleepover! It was fine, though, as practice was the next day, and we would get to see the cars, track and drivers.

At 3:00 AM we finally slept. To awaken again at 8:00.

Yeah- this was our flight

'Suspicious' radio diverts flight

THE ASSOCIATED PRESS

CHICAGO -- An American Airlines jet flying from New York to Seattle was diverted to Chicago yesterday evening after a "suspicious item" was found on board.

It turned out to be a radio.

A passenger saw the radio in one of the plane's restrooms and told a flight attendant, said Chicago police spokesman David Banks. The police bomb and arson unit and the FBI inspected the item and determined it was "an older-looking Walkman-type radio," Banks said.

"It was a big to-do over nothing," Banks said. "If it weren't so serious, it would be laughable."

The 158 passengers and six crew members were evacuated from the plane after it landed in Chicago at 8:30 p.m., said American Airlines spokeswoman Mary Frances Fagan.

Flight 289 originated from New York's John F. Kennedy International Airport.

After the plane was searched at O'Hare International Airport, Fagan said passengers returned to it and continued their journey.

And just in time for vacation

It's probably the nicest fuck you I've ever gotten, but nevertheless, it's a gentle fuck you:

Thanks for checking in, (Couchkitten). I very much appreciate your enthusiasm! At this point, we are still exploring our options, and it may be that we need to look for someone with more direct high-level project management. Please know that we very much enjoyed our meeting with you and have not ruled out all possibilities. I anticipate it will take us 30 - 45 days to come to a decision about which direction we will take. I will keep you updated.

That's 5 for 5.

I go slinking up to Montreal- looking for trouble like the embittered soccer hooligan that I am.

This is my F1 hero. I will see him Friday. He will race fast. Life will be just fine. And yes, I will wear sunblock.

Yeah, well yeah

We are going to Canada, Oh Canada tomorrow. So since I'm not taking a computer, I'll not be blogging until next week. Just think happy thoughts.

And one more reference

To porn- then I think I'll stop for the week. I just pick a theme and run with it. What can I say- I'm inspired.

Spouse had a friend who found a porn mag with the perfect title at the (get this) used porn section in a Missoula book store. (those of you who were there know whereof I speak- don't feign ignorance!)

It was called: Backseat Bullmeat. It featured naked chicks in the back seats of cars with steaks. And other cuts of meat. I kid you not. It existed. And I would pay money on ebay to find it. Just for the cultural significance. And because it would make me laugh really, really hard. And according to the Reader's Digest laughter is the best medicine.

Enjoy the mental image! I know that I sure will!

And if you think I'm some kind of freak

Well, yeah, I really am. But I was thinking about my porn post of yesterday. It's not like I'm an aficianado of porn. Far from it. Really.

But there is a long history of porn- and I've gotta share some of what I learned in college. Or it's lost. What's the point of an art history degree if I don't inflict it on others? Huh? Got a witty answer for that, bub?

Anyway- I took a seminar in 19th Century art. We started with the very early 19th Century- and discussed printing. I found out all about Rowlandson and Gillroy- 2 very prominent printmakers. Legend has it that they were prodigious pornographers too. And George IV was a fan. He had a large collection in one of the palaces- let's for convenience say Windsor.

When in the 1840s, Queen Victoria became ruler, she was going through the prints in the royal collection. Legend has it that she found her uncle's "Collection", and had it burned. That's not to say that she was a tremendous prude- she really wasn't. In her diaries she's quite frank about her love of congugal relations. And she had some rather steamy paintings in her private rooms. But what she didn't like about Rowlandson's prints was the fact that quite a few of them featured her uncle- George IV and his mistresses. I have to say that the ick factor would be high for me too. I'm not sure if this is all true- but it's kind of a fun story. Feel free to use it at parties. You won't be shunned! Really!!!

History is cool

I just read about how they found an unknown piece of music by J.S. Bach in a private library in Weimar, Germany. What's so cool about this story is that they found it days before the library was destroyed by fire. So if they hadn't found it, the fire would've destroyed it.

I just think it's so cool the these kinds of things can still happen. That libraries and archives exist that house lost documents. And someone gets to find them. I've heard stories from a friend about this very kind of thing. He found a letter in a European archive that proved some important points for him- and he was the first person to have ever found it. I think it was hidden in another document, as I remember it. Imagine the excitement! And yes, I know for a fact that I am a geek. There never was any question!

Strange goings on

And on another front- the internet is an odd place. Seems Spouse and a friend were looking at motorcycles online yesterday. Who am I to judge- I spend all day reading about celebrity crap...sigh...

And what does he discover? A vintage porn site, that's what. Yup. Vintage porn. Like from the 20s. And some pretty graphic stuff. I expected to see Victorian French postcards and all, but this was raunchy stuff. I've read enough James Ellroy to know about how nasty Hollywood was back in the day- but to see it in the flesh, so to speak, was interesting...and kind of disturbing...Somewhere out there is a legendary blue film starring a young Joan Crawford. I've seen stills from that, and am not too convinced that it's her- the woman involved looks not so much like her...but then I've not seen her in that, shall we say, condition before, so could be mistaken.

Anyhoo- just wanted to tell someone all about it.

And no, I'm not upset that he looked at it, I would've done the same thing in his place- who can NOT look at vintage porn when it's offered? Be honest!

Car chases

CNN has devoted the ENTIRE morning to some stupid CA car chase. You'd think that I was watching the local LA station, not national news. Must be a really slow news day. They've been talking to a hostage negotiator for over an hour. I'm kind of tuning it out. But it's stupid.

I'm waiting for the Michael Jackson verdict. That will be entertainment enough for the rest of the week. After all, the Deep Throat thing went on for a week. It's all part of the insatiable quest for novelty. Information innovation. Feed me more, more, more. Gone are the days where I could sit in front of the daytime game shows and Oprah and feel all happy. (remember Match Game 76, anyone?)

Anyhew, Chuck Roberts and Linda Stouffer have important things to tell me. Gotta go.

Comeuppance

And for once not for me.

So it seems that a certain, rather unpopular person at the old job got the axe yesterday. Seems that she returned from vacation and found herself on permanent vacation (seems to be a bit of a pattern). She tried to take on the wrong person. She had been gunning for the Marketing director for some time- and I told her it was a mistake. But she couldn't do that. The other moral to this story is that she had been shucking job duties for some time (while proclaiming herself "too busy" to do them). That's a sure-fire way to become professionally obsolete. Right quicklike too. And then there was her habit of gunning for people on the staff who she saw as easy targets. I had a real problem with that, and spent a LOT of time shielding people from her. And covering my back. I expected the stilletto any time. And since she had the boss's ear back then, it wasn't sheer paranoia. It was the kind of esp that you develop by being in political hothouse job environments for long enough.

I hear via the grapevine that her fatal mistake was that she was banging the video intern. That's what I'm told. And that's really, really stupid. She probably was deluded enough at that point to think that she was a)indespensable, and b)untouchable.

And sadly, I do kinda feel sorry for her. I'm still pissed at her role in canning a very good friend of mine, but I think that the saddest thing of all is that she will never learn from her mistakes. I just don't think that she has the capacity to go through the self-reflection necessary to figure out how she helped produce the situation. She is just too self-rightous and defensive.

I stole this from Wonkette. It makes me larf really loud. Poor Norah. She needs to bitch slap someone back at HQ.

And finally, these are some kind of shaker for MSG, or something else that would probably give me a headache. But they have a distinct wanglike shape. Should we be threatened, or soothed by this? Is it a scary wang, or a friendly wang?

This one is called Crab Cock. It even has a slightly phallic bottle.

Spouse has contributed some penis-oriented photos to the cause. I call this one Chicken Cock.

Wind up on a happy note

This week we go to Montreal for the F1 race. I get to see my Michael in action. It's supposed to be cloudy- so sunburns aren't necessarily the accessory du jour (see I'm practicing my French!).

Bitterly we roll along

I am in one of those moods today. I must apologize- once again you've been warned.

I was thinking about one of the last evil friends that I had the misfortune of making. Back in the day. The moral to this story is - never, never, never make a friend of a client. It will bite you in the ass. Especially if she is somewhat psychotic.

So we were building a site for this particular specimen of vanishing sanity. She was a handful. She would call at least 4-5 times/day and want to have lengthy discussions about nothing in particular with whomever answered the phone. I stepped into this one by being the phone answerer. And we chatted. And then she started using my email account as her instant messenger. Thank GOD I never actually got onto IM with her- it would've doomed me.

So as things developed, she was funny, witty and very obsessed with celebrities. (gotta hand it to her- she had met a few- but over time, she did trot out those encounters and bleed them for every bit of significance possible). I just figured that she was very lonely, didn't know anyone in town, and would be a decent friend.

Well. Things got hairy after a while. She became a full-time occupation. Not only did I have to deal with her at work, while trying to function fully- but she insisted on an hour long phone call after work to recap the day. It was like having my own needy wife. And it got to me. If I was busy with something and couldn't talk to her about the nail polish she found that day, she got snippy. It was not so good.

I'll finish the saga later- I'm getting a little pissed off. It wasn't all fun and games! Remember- beware the client friendship....

Boats, boats, boats

One of our favorite pasttimes is to go to the Ballard Locks. And watch the show. It's cool to see the different boats- we have our eye on a circa 1954 Chris Craft that is about the sweetest thing afloat.

Our other favorite hobby whist watching the boats it to judge people by the names of their crafts. It's fun. The best was a boat called Jagermeister. You figure out the demographic represented there....yup. Probably some kind of Microsoftian marketing/sales/software kinda guy- he was in chinos, with a beer in mighty moneyed fist. Love it.

Spoiled Rotten was a middle aged couple- she was blond and kind of reddened, he was a tad large. They seemed to be relatively happy. Good for them. I wasn't overly impressed.

We decided that we should get a boat just for the sheer joy of naming it. We don't really want a boat- I don't swim for shit, and don't really like the water. And I burn very easily, so don't do sun. (someday I'll probably trot out the melanoma story on a slow news day- you've been warned). But we came up with the following. The SS Crack Whore- there actually was an SS Crack Whore- she was a mighty aluminum boat with a hole in her starboard side. There were plans afoot to fix her using a PBR can or two. But she was stolen from our friend Jason's back yard. The bastards. I hope they sank.

Another good name: The Ron Jeremy (he deserves immortality of a different, more respectable sort), Dirty Sanchez (I really don't want to go into details, but it's nasty- and those who watch South Park might enjoy the reference), Pooter Palace ( I just made it up), The Bite Me, the Depends (just made that one up too- god I amuse myself...), and I forget the rest. Needless to say, we laughed a lot...sigh...then went back to bitterly bickering about who should drive home. (not really- the bickering part I just made up for dramatic effect.)

James Bond

On the Starz network they're playing a James Bond film fest. We're up to The Spy Who Loved Me, and deep into the Roger Moore ouvre. I gotta say- I'm diggin the 70s vibe.

The last one The Man W/ the Golden Gun was my favorite as a child. We saw it at the drive in theater. We never missed the opportunity to see James Bond at the drive in. I would sit in the back seat with my sister- in our pyjamas, on my sleeping bag, and watch. Actually, she usually fell asleep. I remember watching people go by with flashlights. And I remember the best part was going to the bathrooms. It was cool out and dark, and the kiosk smelled like popcorn. The walls were a lurid kind of red. And I remember a poster for a horror flick about ants one time. It was dangerous feeling. I often got to go by myself when I was a little older. It was kind of scary coming back and trying to remember where the car was.

So, one of the things that occurred to me whilst watching this movie is how terribly throw-away the women are as characters. There is one main Bond girl, and the rest are like the red shirted men in Star Trek- total fodder. You know that they're trying to bust James Bond's balls. That they are probably on the other side. If not, they're just a quickie. And if they get killed, well, pity. But no big deal. Does that make James a total sociopath? That he can kill or witness killing without any visible signs of emotion? That he basically doesn't give a shit? What a hero. I'll take one without ice water in his veins, please!

Image from Hawaii

My mother and I went to Hawaii in the mid-80s. While we were in Honolulu, we decided to walk from our first hotel to the Ala Muana mall. As we strolled along, during the warm afternoon, we passed what I remember as either a storm ditch or an overpass. There was a homeless man with his shopping cart hunkered down next to the ditch, close to the sidewalk. I hadn't seen many homeless people yet- there just weren't many in Montana in January- or any time then.

What really stuck in my memory was that it was probably in the upper 70s, and he was wearing a down jacket. And his shopping cart was filled with bread bags. No bread, but just the bags. His jacket was black.

The juxtaposition of homeless and Hawaiian paradise really shocked me. I had to look at the whole thing for the first time in my life. We saw more in a later trip to Mexico- but this was something that I didn't expect to see in a place like that. And it made me really uncomfortable. And helpless. There was nothing I could do for him. Not a damned thing.

I took this from the upper floor of the B of A building during a cultish kind of function. The view made it all worthwhile.

These are people who would love to talk to you about L Ron. I dunno- I shouldn't do it, but I will say that they creep me out...I'm a proponent of (gasp) psychotherapy. So screw them.

From an operative in Vermont- more free dirt-like goodies.

Jane Fonda = the Antichrist

Yeah- I've received a chain letter from my mother. All about how evil Jane is. People sure get worked up about Jane. I'm not old enough to remember what she did in the same way- I do know that there are plenty of urban myths about her actions- not all of the stories are accurate. More's the pity. It's a shame I think that she is being held so responsible for actions made when she was young, and certainly a dumb ass. I wonder why everyone else isn't held to that particular standard. I wonder if the guys who acted inproperly at My Lai are still remembered for their actions. I wonder if any of the other celebrity protesters are still remembered for their stances...I kinda think not. And it's a shame that despite her apologies, she cannot be forgiven. It's kind of like she's on the same level as Hitler. No amount of contrition will ever be enough. That makes me sad. I think, as a country, we can afford to be more charitable than that. Yes, her actions hurt. But she's still part of the family, so to speak. And despite the hurt she caused, if she is sorry, she should be forgiven.

I am very glad that I didn't do anything seriously fucked up when I was in my early 20s- I would hate to have that kind of thing hanging over me for the rest of my life. Especially if it was public. I think that 40 years is really long enough to punish someone. Many serious criminals don't do that much time in prison, and they are considered rehabilitated when they are released. And if they don't do anything else for the rest of their lives, they are thought to have paid their debts to society. So what is worse- someone who committed manslaughter, or someone who was used for treasonous propeganda? I dunno. I am not on that jury. I refuse to be that judge. It just makes me sad. I don't like to hear that kind of anger in my mother's voice. Especially towards a woman she'll never know, whose actions were ill-considered but not overtly illegal.

Job interview

It seemed to go very well. I really liked the two people I met. I felt like I would really fit the job, and could handle it. Like it was the natural extension of where I was at the last job. I hope that they consider me seriously for it. I dunno, though. I'm getting a little discouraged, as I can't seem to read those situations very accurately any more. I can only hope. And yes, I sent my thank you notes. This very afternoon. And I emailed references within an hour of my interview. So we'll see. This one I really, really want though. And that makes it kind of scary.

Good times, good times

So now that the latest round of interviewing is out of da way, I can plunge headlong into stuff again. Like reading. It's fundamental, don't cha know?!

I picked up a copy of the newest translation of Swann's Way the other day. Lovely. It is indeed superior to Moncrieff's version. Now, that particular brand of snobbishness out of the way, we can proceed, dear reader. I'm going for a kind of parallel histoical biographical kind of thingy. In 1996 I was fired in the hot, nasty month of June (in Tempe, it is truly an evil time of year). Spouse was in Portland at an internship. So I was adrift. With no income besides unemployment benefits, and a library card, and without air conditioning. It was not a highlight of my life. Between watching late night Star Trek re-runs and daytime Telemundo soap operas, there just wasn't much going on.

So, I devised a plan. I read classics. Like they were going out of style. I read War and Peace (great but for the last 100 or so pages of recap- Tolstoy seemed to kind of go off on a rant for a while- where was his editor, exactly?), The Brothers Karamazov (just didn't make me all that happy- in fact made me want to put a bullet in my temple- let's not relive that unpleasantness), Gravity's Rainbow (Pynchon is one fucked up dude- seriously...), and finally, Remembrance of Things Past volumes 1-6. I found that I really loved Proust. Beyond all others. And I have always loved to read. Many books have had a profound impact on my personal zeitgeist at certain stages in life. And this was no exception.

It was a long, somewhat unhappy summer- and despite my fascination for Erik Estrada in the Two Women, One Road soap opera, there just wasn't a lot happening.

So- now that I'm still unemployed, I thought it would be kinda cool to re-visit my hero, Marcel. And see how it goes. So far, it's like a warm bath. Delicious. I love the man. Pity he's dead.

And I'm far from miserable this time around. Bored, certainly, frustrated by the lack of job offers, absolutely. A tad miffed about it all- well perhaps. But not desolate. Lots of water under that particular bridge makes it all much easier to handle.

Enough. I'll not go into the whole mysticism of the Madeline cookie kind of thing. I'll save that for another time. Bet you can't wait!