weird stuff i've done in the past #2

I live in this old, rented house with an unpaved driveway. Over the years, the driveway has sort of worn away so it’s about 8 inches lower than the lawn. The lawn slopes sharply down toward the drive. If there’s snow or ice on the ground, you have to hold onto the car, or you’ll fall for sure.

I’m on what I think was the second date with this guy a couple of years ago. I’m wearing high heeled boots, cause it’s snowing and icy, but I still want to look good. He’s got some big-ass brand new truck, some kind of big Ford pickup, white.

I’m standing at the side of the truck, balancing on the slope, while he’s opening the door for me. (A gentlemanly act unrepresentative of his future behavior.) All of a sudden, my feet go out from under me, and I slide cleanly and silently under the truck. All the way under.

So he opens the door and turns to help me in and I’m not there. But he can hear me laughing. I am crippled with laughter. I am so not smooth, but this is a faux pas nonpareil. I don’t know how I’m going to get out from under there, and I’m not even sure I want to. No, that’s OK. You go have dinner, I’ll be fine here.

Eventually, he tracks me down, and make all sorts of concerned noises. Drags me out. When a man pulls a woman he hardly knows out from under his truck, he gives her a look that’s different from any other look he will give her or any other woman again, ever. Just in case you were wondering.

It snowed constantly that year. There was always a thick layer of ice on the ground. This guy lived in a particularly hilly area of the north shore, in an apartment at the back of a house that had a 100 foot driveway with a really sharp downward slant. Because he was the tenant, he had to park on the street. I spent a lot of time on my ass in that driveway. He commented more than once that I "really fall down a lot".

It’s hard to believe that I’m not more successful with men.

happy holidays

Going out of town for a week, to relax have fun and get my head together. No blogging. I can't take the pressure. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkaha, Enjoy your Kwanzaa. See you when I get back.

So I get this email from someone who says she saw my blog. I have a direct link on the page, so that makes sense. And it’s just this real friendly email about how she enjoyed the read and just wants to say hello to a fellow New Yorker. And she has a blog where she hosts some kind of get together on some particular afternoon every week and I should stop by. So I’m thinking, oh that’s nice, and I’m about to hit reply so I can say thanks, I’ll check it out when I get the chance, when I look down at the link to her site and its something like nyhotties.com festival of sin, or something. Now I’m not totally opposed to festivals of sin, but I think I’d have to start a different kind of blog to qualify.


In other news, Friday night and Saturday were completely wasted, as weekends go, because I had to spend them doing inventory. Don’t ask. Let’s just say, I’m glad its over. So I only had Sunday to try to get stuff done. I’m leaving Friday for California to spend a week with my sister and her husband and I won’t be back until just a couple of days before Christmas, so I really need to get a lot accomplished before then. Not easy for a procrastinator extraordinaire like me. But I did ok, I bought the tree and schlepped it home, finished most of my gift shopping, addressed most of my cards, did some wrapping and I’m doing laundry and its only about 8:00. I'm meeting Cathie in 15 minutes, so I'd better get going. Tomorrow morning, it’s back to the hell hole, but only for 3 days. And it’s getting cold, it’s supposed to stay in the 30’s all this week and next, so it will be nice to be in a warmer climate.

And I never called my mother. Hi, Mom. I'm shipping your present Monday.

weird stuff i've done in the past #1

A year or so ago, I came home at the end of a long, hard day at work, exhausted and stressed out. I lay down on the couch, work clothes still on, to relax a little. I fell asleep almost immediately. When I woke up, the sun was up. I jump up, look at the clock on the VCR, and freak. 8:00?? Shit. Shit. SHIT. I’m supposed to be in at 7. And I’m the one with the keys; everyone will be waiting for me outside the building. I am so screwed.

I jump in my car, still wearing yesterday’s clothes, not quite awake, still a little shaky. I drive like a crazy person to the office and …. the gates are locked. The gates are locked? What the Hell? Everyone’s given up because I’m an hour late? Doesn’t make sense. Other people have keys, they should have been there by now. I’m still disoriented, now I’m dumbfounded.

Then I start thinking. Maybe it’s Saturday? What day was it yesterday? How long have I been sleeping anyway? Maybe I’m Ruby VanWinkle. Maybe the company’s gone out of business. I check the rearview mirror to see if my roots have grown any longer. I cannot figure out what day it is. I was working 2 jobs at the time and was seriously sleep deprived. I put the car radio on to try to get the date. I put on WCBS and they’re broadcasting the Yankee game. Ok, are we still at the same place in the season? WHAT DAY IS IT???

Finally, it sinks in. Baseball is played at night, not in the morning. It’s 8:00 at NIGHT. I had only been sleeping for 2 hours. I’m stupid. I’m tired. I gotta go home.

the puppet method

Courtesy of Wacky Neighbor, the absolute worst pickup line of all time. Something tells me that the author is "America's #1 Singles Expert" because he always has been, and always will be single.

movie review

I saw Closer this weekend. I had no idea what I was in for and assumed it was some dumb, fluffy flick because Julia Roberts was in it. She’s not my favorite actress. But it was Sue’s birthday and I was willing to see what ever she wanted. She really wanted to see Sideways, but she has some sort of movie listing disability. Whenever she says this film is playing at this theater at this time, you can be sure that at least two of those three pieces of information are wrong. So we get to Lowe’s and no Sideways. But Closer is playing and she likes Julia so in we go.

Everyone else in the crowded theater seemed as stunned as we were. This is a movie filled, crammed with intelligent, harsh, razor-sharp dialogue about sex, compulsion and infidelity. You haven’t seen a film like this since Carnal Knowledge, also directed by Mike Nichols about three decades ago. The characters, played by Jude Law, Natalie Portman, Clive Owen, and Roberts are shallow and dysfunctional. They talk a lot about love, but don’t seem to understand the meaning of the word. The film jumps across time, focusing on the heat at the beginnings and ends of relationships. It’s all about the dialogue. The characters reveal and hide themselves, entice, machinate, and batter with their words. There is an internet conversation that is the dirtiest, funniest thing I’ve seen in a very long time. It’s not for everyone, but it is riveting entertainment for thinking adults. An astute examination of a slice of life that hopefully most of us have little experience with.

After it was over, most people just stayed in their seats, talking. You don’t see that very often.

clairvoyance

Now I know you all commit my every word to memory, so I won't have to remind you about what I said on October 25. Well, I was right. Got the check today and . . . not . . . one . . . extra . . . dime. If I knew it was going to happen, why did I spend all day being upset about it?

if i were barbie . . .

. . . This is what I'd want for Christmas.

Harley-Davidson Ken

comfort and joy

I’ve spent the long weekend very carefully avoiding all stores, malls, and any other place shoppers are prone to gather, including the roads. Have heard the sirens and ambulances just about non-stop, though. Why is it that shopping for Christmas gifts brings out the worst in people? Everyone becomes super aggressive and mean. Seems like they’re missing the point.

However, since I’ve spent four days in the bosom of my family and friends, tranquilized with turkey and the cute sweetness of Bridget Jones part 2, or whatever it’s called, I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy. Humming carols and thinking about cookie recipes.

Four-day weekends are the best invention ever. When I rule the universe, 4:3 will be declared the perfect ratio of non-working to working days. Also men will have to wear pants that cover their butt cracks, and women over 50 will be proclaimed fabulous. I figure by the time I’m Grand Empress of the Universe, I’ll be at least 50.

Egg nog. I just remembered. I make the best egg nog. The recipe was from the Joy of Cooking originally, but I changed it a little. It costs a fortune, takes two days to make, and has about 5000 calories a teaspoon. And it knocks you on your ass faster than a Long Island Iced Tea. Everyone's invited.

betty crocker, i'm not

Mmmmmm. Thanksgiving leftovers.

I am such a kick ass cook. What I can do to a head of cauliflower is truly astonishing. Everything I make is de-freakin-licious. So why do I eat deli and take out 3 meals a day, 7 days a week? Because I work full time, first of all, and whoever thought up this dinner every night thing had to be a man, and because I hate shopping, especially for food. But mostly because after cooking 3 hot meals a day for 18 years, receiving nothing but complaints and insults for my trouble, I will cook when and what I damn well please. I’ve discovered that when you refuse to cook a meal and keep the fridge empty for 6 months at a time, your family is genuinely grateful when you do feed them. I toasted a bagel for Joey last week, and I thought he might weep. Lisa has been reminiscing about lamb chops I served Easter Sunday. They both are probably expecting Christmas dinner.

I really like to cook, and every time I do, I tell myself I should do it more often. There’s just so many other ways to spend my energy.

because you can't get enough

There's a new box in the sidebar with links to some of the better posts. Thanks to Mikel for the HTML, and thanks to Mike for somehow identifying a syntax error elsewhere in the template that was causing trouble.

And thanks, also to everyone who left comments with suggestions for working with blogger. Much appreciated.

misc.

Sometimes I hate blogger. I just lost the whole damn post and had to rewrite it because it just freaking dissapeared. Good thing it wasn't any good anyway. And why won't let me put a space between this paragraph and the next?

Went to St. Pepper’s in East Northport to see Steve’s band Saturday night. They were great, as usual, getting better all the time. The band before them wasn’t bad either. But this place has the worst bartenders ever. Five drink orders, all for the same very simple drink, came back five different ways from three different bartenders. None of them any good at all. I finally gave up and ordered a bottle of water, and was served Johnny Walker Black instead. I drank it. It was 2 a.m. and the first alcohol I’d had all night.

Ran into an old friend, and he hooked me up with a pretty promising lead on a job. So maybe that will work out.

And Thanksgiving is in two days, so I guess I’m supposed to shop and cook. My plan is to leave everything until the last minute as usual, then toss it all together and see what happens.

Good News – four day weekend coming up.
Bad News – two more days of work before then.

Good News – I think I can squeeze two more days of clean clothes out of the laundry I did two weeks ago, so I don’t have to do any more laundry until midnight on Sunday.
Bad News – I always hate myself round about midnight on Sundays because I’ve put off the laundry until then.

freaking blogger. no lines between my paragraphs. grumble. grumble.

Good News/Bad News- you decide - The Virgin Mary Grilled Cheese Sandwich, mentioned Saturday, has sold for $28,000.

what's up with that?

Why does blogger shut me out every Sunday night? and whenever else it wants to? very frustrating.

virgin or no virgin, i couldn't have stopped at just one bite

Finished up another week from hell yesterday by crawling home and reading some blogs. After finding myself unable to post a comment without misspellings, multiple deletions, and all kinds of nonsense, I rolled into bed and put myself out of my misery.

This morning I am engaged in much more important work. I am liquidating my assets so I can place on a bid on the original, genuine, true Virgin Mary Grilled Cheese Sandwich. As of 8 a.m. the price is $7600. This is not a hoax. The owner and chef, Diana Duyser of Florida, made the sandwich 10 years ago, and took a bite before discovering the image of the Virgin in the buttery goodness. She packed it in Tupperware with cottonballs and has kept it ever since. She feels the lack of mold is a miracle in itself, and attributes her gambling winnings to Mary working in her life through the sandwich.

Some detractors believe the image is actually that of Greta Garbo. Other items offered for sale on eBay are the Virgin Mary Grilled Cheese Sandwich with pink dangly earrings (I don't think this is genuine, though), the VMGCS thong, VMGCS recipe, and the Wesley Snipes Grilled Cheese Sandwich. Also tee shirts saying "I ate the Virgin Mary Grilled Cheese Sandwich and it was sacrilegious."

There are unconfirmed rumors of a popechop. More to follow.

god wants you to send me money

Now I have Christians spamming me. They want me to date Christian singles in my area, obtain a Christian mortgage (?), and win a Christian iPod. I suppose the iPod is a convert. Thou shalt not spam. Amen.

i don't have a license to drive this thing

people who don't know thing one about HTML shouldn't tinker. 'nuff said.

help

my sidebar is all the way at the bottom. what am i doing wrong?

this can't be a good sign

Woke up this morning to almost an inch of snow and ice. A record early snow fall for this area. The last 2 winters here have been brutal. By Long Island standards, anyway. Canadians please stop laughing. I hate to shovel snow even more than I hate to rake leaves. The leaves, at least, I can ignore until I'm ready. I have to be at work so early that I need to start shoveling about 5 am to have a prayer of getting there on time. Maybe I can get a job in Aruba.

haven't heard it said better anywhere

The Mighty Geek is back. I have to admit his kitchen renovation was wearing me down, but he's back and on fire. This post is just intelligent, common sense. Which has become unusual when discussing American politics.