In which you get a glimpse into my home life.
I just had the following conversation with my roommate and longtime friend, Truck:
Me: Did you hear that? Is someone here?
Truck: I think it’s the neighbors. Or maybe it’s Floyd [AmmZon’s pop] and he wants us to let him watch porn.
Me: I just can’t seem to convince him that it’s wrong to watch porn with one’s offspring.
Truck: Well, he didn’t get to know her until she was all growed up, so maybe that’s it.
Me: Still, you just can’t watch porn with your children.
Truck: So true.
Me: I wouldn’t watch porn with either of my parents! You’re not supposed to watch porn with relatives. Well, maybe with an aunt I might, but not an uncle. Maybe a cousin, but not my brother. It’s just not right.
Truck: I’m gonna have kids specifically to watch porn with them.
Me: Good idea.
Truck: I never wanted kids until right now.
Me: It happens suddenly like that sometimes.
Truck: “Come in here and watch porn with daddy.”
Me: You’re supposed to have kids so they’ll do stuff for you. Like get you a beer, or find the remote, or work the family farm. So you should have kids so they can make porn for you.
Truck: Good idea. “Go make daddy some porn!”
Turns out that someone was here and it was indeed Floyd, but he didn’t want to watch porn after all. He just wanted to borrow five bucks.
In which I take myself out on a date.
Tonight I took myself out for Mexican food, then I went to see Casino Royale, and then I bought myself two drinks at the Dead Cock. Then I came home. I was such a wonderfully kick-ass date that I’ll probably put out for myself later. I probably won’t buy me any flowers, though, or call me within three days.
I loved the movie! The new Bond is hot! And I really want to try the drink he recites:
three measures of gin
one of vodka
half of Lillet Blanc
I had to look up Lillet Blanc; it’s a French vermouth. I’m not much of a martini gal, but I want to try one anyway!
In which I couldn’t go anywhere even if I wanted to.
Freezing rain last night. It is, as they say, colder’n a witch’s tit outside. I can’t even open the jeep’s doors because they’re frozen shut.
I can’t finish the BME site until — gag! — I get a copy of MS FrontPage installed. Fucking ASP anyway.
Bread’s refinancing the farm so those litigious hippies will go away. I really don’t talk shit to people, but I’m afraid that if I found myself face-to-face with them I’d go right the hell off.
We were paying, damn it, and they decided to sue us because they wanted out of a contract they’d agreed to carry! They nickle-and-dimed us the whole way, from the $6k they added at closing for no reason to the money they demanded for the propane left in the tank the day we took possession. They’re creeps, basically, so screw ’em.
I have practice tonight for the 2006 holiday benefit, so I think I might bathe today.
In other news, I hear it’s NLW’s birthday!
In which I didn’t go to jail.
I have made $0.07 from my Google AdSense ads so far. (That’s about $25 a year. Whee.) Go, me.
It’s getting c-c-cc-cold here. I am not diggin’ it. I much preferred yesterday’s chinook, in which I wore a long-sleeved cotton t-shirt and was comfortable, but right now there’s a winter storm watch for the area and I bet everything freezes solid tonight.
On the work front, I applied for the webmaster position at Overland last week. BvB, the other singer in my band (The Band That Never Gigs), works there, and tells me that she’s pushing to get me an interview. HELLO EMPLOYEE DISCOUNT!
I’ve also applied here, but they haven’t even acknowledged receipt of my resume, so no high hopes there.
Oh, in late breaking news, cops now love me. This totally freaks me out. For instance: the night before last, I drove a drunk friend home. This was after after-hours, so it was probably around three or four o’clock in the morning. I was sober, but I had a… questionable… item or two in my bag and my friend was most likely carrying; who knows. I have a brake light out, plus cops scare the shit out of me in general; when they turn their lights on I basically have a heart attack each and every time. I knew I was going to get pulled over, and depending on the behavior of my drunk friend I was possibly going to get Fucked With. My heart started going about 210 bpm and I was already dreading my name in the next day’s police report.
Anyway, this cop followed me for three blocks… and then turned off without pulling me over. I could not fucking believe it. And then, last night? A cop followed me down an alley as I was walking to my car, then waved when I turned to look at him, and then waited for me to get into my car — like, to make sure I was safe or something? — and then he drove away. It’s weird, OH YEAH it is, but I’m grateful. They can love me all they want, fer sure. Better that than pull my ass over!
I distinctly remember telling someone yesterday, “That was funny! That’s totally going on the blog!” but now I can’t remember what the situation was. Perhaps sleeping twelve hours a night affects one’s short term-to-long term memory transference?
I’m still into knitting, like, a lot; and also: my Wee Mee:
I gave her a bulkier sweater, boots instead of Birks, and a seasonally appropriate coffee cup. SO FREAKIN’ CUTE!!!
In other news, my band, The Band That Never Gigs, is doing a gig in December! A benefit for a guy with brain cancer, but a gig nonetheless. And tomorrow night I start rehearsal for JAM’s annual holiday benefit concert because, you know, hey, it’s for a good cause, even if he *does* try to make me sing Bette Midler’s From A Distance.
In other other news, I love Gmail on my cell phone. It rocks.
Loved all your jokes in the last entry’s comments. Thank you! *smooch*
In which there’s another weekend of workin’ all night and sleepin’ all day. (Working. Hah.)
I had another one of ‘those’ weekends, meaning I hit after-hours parties both Friday and Saturday nights and slept all day both days. You’d think I was 22, the way I’m acting on weekends! I hung out with Raybo, Gorgeous & Rockstar, Baby Girl & Core, EJ and more. I expected to see more expats since it was a holiday weekend, but in reality I only saw two people who were in town for Thanksgiving.
I didn’t spend a single moment working on the BME site, but intend to finish it ASAP.
In the world of knitting, I’ve learned the following: (1.) I fucking hate ribbing. Sheesh. (2.) No matter what stitch you’ve finished on, knit or purl, the yarn always comes from the right side of the work. This is important if you’re knitting in the round and put the work down and it gets turned inside out. (Yes, I put a hat in my bag and took it out and ended up working in the wrong direction and had to rip out a row. Duh.) I knit myself a black hat on Thanksgiving afternoon, and am knitting another one as a gift right now. The sweater remains unchanged since the last time I posted a picture of it.
I broke down and added Google Ads to goblinbox, but right now it appears to be stuck mainly displaying ads for sexual function due to this post. Snort! I don’t really have high hopes that the ads will generate any income — they don’t on ICK — but what the hell.
Speaking of ICK, hosting is about to expire. The guy who hosts goblinbox will let me move it to his server, but I don’t know if I care enough to move the site. I guess there’s still a month or more left; I may change my mind.
I’m certain that lots of fun and amusing things happened that I could be writing about, but I’m busy multitasking — read: “sending resumes in another tab” — and I can’t think of any of them. Why don’t you amuse me and tell me a joke or something?
In which there’s a rambling, unstructured update.
AmmZon and Truck dragged me to Iowa City last Friday. We ate, saw JB, shopped, and came home. I brought my knitting along and got a couple of inches done on my sweater while sitting in George’s. (And the fabric store. And the car. And the other store. And then again later at George’s.) Portable projects are cool. I had a great time; it’s always refreshing to get the hell outta Dodge.
Saturday night we went to see Hotlips in the Iowa Theatre Company’s production of The Foreigner. Hotlips was freakin’ brilliant. I even dressed up and wore my velvet coat and makeup and everything. I saw RF (the director) backstage after final curtain and he immediately asked me for my number because he said he wants to cast me! I haven’t done a show in ages, but it might be time to hate theatre again. (My last show was Into The Woods — I played the witch — and it was probably seven years ago. I’m ready to start tackling those crone roles, since I’m clearly past the age of playing the ingenue.)
Saturday I went out and partied. Sunday I slept. Monday I worked on the BME site and suffered the onslaught of That Time Of The Month. (My cycle is moving to match AmmZon’s since she’s on the pill.)
Tuesday I drove to the airport to pick Snow up, and then we went to band practice. I hadn’t been to band practice in a really long time. My band never gigs. People don’t even know I’m in a bad, that’s how bad it is. But goddamn we sound good.
Tonight I hung out with Bread because we needed to discuss the property; the fucking hippies we bought it from are trying to foreclose due to ‘breach of contract’ (we did some remodeling) because they want to force us to refinance. They will not respond to any communications from us. They appear to have instructed their lawyer not to respond to us. They are being total insane freaks. It sucks and I hate them. They’ve completely lost their fucking hippie minds! We’ve never missed a payment. We’ve been making two balloon payments a year for six years. The insurance is current. The property tax is current. We’re ideal buyers!
Seeing Bread made my heart ache. I love that man, I really do, I’m just not his life partner and he’s not mine and it fucking hurts. I miss him so much.
Now I’m home reading blogs. I may go to bed early. I may sit right here and finish the BME gig. I may go out and have a few drinks. I just don’t know.
In which I ponder marriage, sex, duty, and who may have a right to my body.
One of the big problems in my marriage, particularly at the end, was sex. It all seemed terribly complex at the time, with all the love and hurt and rejection on both sides, but in the end the problem can be stated very simply: he wanted more sex than he got.
My husband used to tell me that he “never got laid any more,” a statement that made me so angry — because I was deliberately and acutely conscientious about making sure he never went without, even to the extent of frequently and cheerfully having sex I didn’t want to have — that I actually kept a calendar in order to prove that he did.
Sucks, don’t it, how what starts out as a source of intimacy and bonding can become its own polar opposite?
Anyway, point is, I’ve been contemplating this issue for quite awhile now. Lately I’ve discussed this topic in depth with a few couples, and based on what I’ve experienced and observed and been told, I’ve come to what I feel is an important conclusion for myself:
I should never marry, because I am not willing to owe sex to anyone.
Yeah, whoa is right. A lot of you would might compelled to jump on that and say, “You never owe anyone sex, not even when you’re married!” Just let me unpack this so you can see how I got here.
Women sometimes lose libido for a extended periods of time. This seems to be fairly common.
I had no sex drive for nearly two years, due to various factors. It was not intentional. It was not my fault. It just happened. At the beginning, it was just a state of being. By the time my libido returned, I’d been nagged for sex for so long that I continued to say no just to be a bitch. It hadn’t been my fault in the first place, and he’d punished me for it anyway, so I was punishing him back. (Yeah, I’m mature like that.)
The math is that males are fertile all of the time and females are only fertile for three days per cycle. Assuming a 30-day cycle, the male-to-female fertility ratio is about ten to one. Ten to one! If you compound this cruel joke with the fact that women are several orders of magnitude more hormonally complex than men (and are therefore more likely to suffer failures), and then you mix in hormone-altering things like birth control pills, pregnancies, and plain old-fashioned stress, well, then, suddenly it begins to seem that periods of libidolessness are a natural occurrence in females.
Continue reading »
In which my outfit leaves a little to be desired.
Earlier, Truck walked into the kitchen, looked me up and down, and said, “Are you wearing a kimono… and a hat?”
“Yes. Yes, I am. What about it?”
“Nothing. Just asking.”
I have a black silk kimono. A guy in my band brought it back for me from China. It’s groovy. I had it on over my PJs, and I was wearing a knit hat.
I’m nothing if not UTTERLY goddamned STYLISH! (Yeah, right. No wonder people think I’m a dyke.)
In other news, this is my WeeMee:
She’s immune to vaccuum, which is totally hot. And her coffee and books? Totally have their own internal gravity generators!
In which you please stand by.
If you’ve dropped by today and the ‘box was down, that’s because our provider is experiencing power problems. Should be resolved shortly.
In which there’s a brief update.
So I got a gig doing a little routine maintenance on Bear Mountain Essentials; hopefully I’ll have the strength to invoice rather than ask for this in trade. (Is that not the yummiest hippie-chick skirt ever?!)
I’ve also left two voicemails today for jobs I found in various papers. I prefer places that list email addresses in their want-ads so I can just shoot off resumes, but whatever.
I’m cashing out half of my SRA because I have literally no money… no gas in the jeep, and maybe four cigarettes left. And I’m a knitting freak because I can’t really go anywhere or do anything, not to mention that I’m really quite short on sci-fi to read; only two books left!
I made lunch for AmmZon today: rice, beans, scrambled eggs, cheese, avocado, salsa. Speaking of which, I’d better go put that stuff away…
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Instagram has become unusable crap, so please click the icon below to see my latest pics.
4 random books from my Library!
