I love you people. Many of you are desperate to learn how to ping from OSX, and I don’t blame you. Others want to know more about PPC apps or skins. Some of you are STILL SURFING FOR PORN WITH MSN, and you make me sad.
It’s today’s how you found this site, courtesy my beloved L10 hit counter.
Almost every day, someone wants to know how to build a nuke. I suspect this doesn’t bode well.
I have a new tattoo.
I’m uploading pics of my new tattoo in the background, but since I’m on dial-up out here in the sticks, it’ll take forEVer. And yes that is my ass crack, thank you. (If you’ve never had a tattoo: the reason it looks like this is that it’s new, which means it’s still a little swollen, and it’s shiny because one keeps a new tattoo covered in ointment for a week or so, so that the skin doesn’t dry out and scab off. The tattoo above the new one is several years old.)
I slept more than five hours in a row last night, which speaks volumes for how fatigued I was after our whirlwind Chicago trip. Yay! And my GOD I had so much fun. Have I mentioned how much fun I had?!? I HAD SO MUCH FUN!
Today we took the eBay guy’s new toy to ABF to ship it, by way of 1-Stop rental for a box and some bailing wire, but they weren’t open yet. After a call to determine they’d remain not open for more than an hour, we came home and had a nooner (it was actually about one, but Mr. Brett insisted on calling it a nooner anyway) and then I took a nap.
UNTIL SIX.
IN THE EVENING.
Brett had gone out to mow the lawn and failed to notice that I hadn’t gotten up, and he totally laughed at me when I wandered into the living room at SIX P-fucking-M looking all touseled.
I called ABF and they were still open, so we drove back into town and dropped off the pallet, which proved to be rather fun in a redneck way, and then hit the Dairy Bar for malts. And Mr. Brett had a chili dog, which I enjoyed watching him eat almost as much as he obviously enjoyed eating it. “Only thing that would make this better is if it was a foot-long,” he pronounced afterward.
Then we hit Wal-Mart for canning lids and twelve pounds of salt and came home.
The canning lids were because Brett wanted (me) to pickle some asparagus, and the salt was for the asparagus patch. Aparently some old farmer dude told Brett in a bar recently that salt will kill grass and weeds but doesn’t harm asparagus, and since our asparagus patch looks more like lawn than garden he’s been wanting to give this salt approach a try.
There wasn’t all that much asparagus to pick this evening, so we only did a couple quarts, but I put four asian red hot chilis in each jar along with many cloves of garlic, so this batch should be hot as hell. My previous batches (here’s my first foray in pictures; but I’m much more legit now and I have a big canning pot and everything) were yummy but not particularly hot, and Brett wants some that is, to quote his redneck self, “so hot you need two assholes”-hot.
Now, if our VCR is actually still cabled to the entertainment center, I intend to go downstairs and so something I rarely do: commandeer the glass teat and watch something. On purpose. I’m rather in the mood to see Contact, a movie I adore, and I just happen to have it on video. Hopefully those tatt pics will finish uploading eventually.
We did go! The eBay guy paid! I’d sat moping in the living room staring at the TV feeling sorry for myself, then decided to come upstairs to email the motel and cancel our reservation, and LO AND BEHOLD there was an email from Paypal saying we’d been paid!
Fucking halleluia! I skittered downstairs like my feet were on fire and told Mr. Brett, who got up and walked right out the door with me. He also got me to Chicago – from our house – in five hours, so we didn’t even miss the opening act, Ethel. We only saw their last piece, but still! FIVE HOURS! Door to door!
The show was a sort of accoustic-slash-unplugged thing, which I hadn’t expected. No band, no bass, no drums. Naked. The Cadillac Palace is gorgeous and our tickets were pretty good. Fifth row, far left side. Ethel was so interesting and fresh and intense that I’m going to have to feed some to my iPod. Even Brett dug them – they’re a string quartet that play like a band and they emote like nothing you’ve ever seen. (You can tell just by looking at them that none of them got laid in high school, but they’re monster players now.)
Joe Jackson, as it turns out, is totally gay. (Perhaps I’m the only person who didn’t know this, but I’ve never really been a fan of his. Although it does seem that if you’re an English singer/songwriter whose main instrument is piano, your odds of being queer are increased astronomically.) I enjoyed Joe’s set a lot – he does write some fantastic fucking changes – although I did find his vocals a bit rough for the first half of his set… I think he hadn’t warmed up, actually. The crowd was interesting because they were either there for Joe or Todd, meaning there were Todd-rockers snuggled in next to tony gay couples all over the seating plan. Joe’s adorably funny – his bits of patter between tunes were cute and got quite a few laughs, and who doesn’t die for a luv’ly Englishman-living-in-New-York accent? His piano chops are hot, and his purple swing-coat suit jacket was pretty hot too. Brett leaned over and whispered in my ear after Joe played Stepping Out and said, “Oh, I finally realized who this guy is.”
Todd was your basic rock god at the top of his game. He came out, picked up his axe, and blazed right through accoustic versions of a couple of old songs. His chops and voice were tight. The second tune he played was one of those two hits he had in the 70’s – either I Saw The Light or Hello It’s Me – and he’d rewritten the changes to these gorgeous, fucked up, suspended inversions… he actually hit some very crazy sus 11 chord (or some such loveliness) at one point and stopped the song to say, “I want you to listen to this chord. Just in case you think I’m some kind of misguided Dave Matthews or something… I’d like to see him play this chord,” and then he launched back into the song. (He also told us shortly thereafter that he was messing with his nose not because the snowman had come but because he’d neglected to trim his nosehairs, AND he played Bang On The Drum All Day on the fucking ukelele. I love that man.)
After some guitar stuff, he sat at the grand piano and did a piano set, which included The Viking Song (of all things) and the other 70’s hit, the one he hadn’t played earlier. (Must have been Hello It’s Me. I think I Saw The Light was the guitar tune.) I knew every song Todd did save one, and had a great time seeing him again. It was totally a fan’s performance.
It wasn’t a very good Intro To Todd show for Brett, though, because not all the songs necessarily show to their best advantage when the rest of the band is missing, but I dug it so much I can hardly stand myself, and that was the point after all.
After Todd’s set, Joe and Ethel came back out and they all did three more tunes as an ensemble: Pretending To Care (off of Todd’s A Capella album), and While My Guitar Gently Weeps (wherein Todd’s little amp shit the bed and was taken off stage by a roadie WHO DID NOT LOOK AT ALL LIKE TODD). The encore was Black Maria.
I loved the show and was SO HAPPY to have been able to make it! By 11:30 we were on our way to our motel.
We checked in and left immediately, and walked about five blocks until we caught a cab. The cab dropped us at Fat Joe’s and we both got tattoos. I did not get Karajishi, alas, because they quoted me $415 for the whole thing and I didn’t want to get a partial, but I did get a new low back tattoo (beneath the one I already had) that I’m quite pleased with, and Brett got a pin-up girl on his inner right arm. She’s adorable – a cartoony naked 40’s chick in a Navy peacoat. We’re both pretty pleased.
After we got inked, we left the tattoo parlor around two in the morning and caught a cab to Kingston Mines, where we stayed until 4:30. We watched the last part of a set in the big room, then moved to the side room for the final act of the night. Brett kept trying to get me to go ask if I could sit in (“I’ve been waiting for something like this for eight years, Mushlette.” he said. “Go up there and kick ass!”) since they were letting people play with them, but I lamed out – I realized by the end of the night that I should have gone up and sat in, but it’s weird in a venue you don’t know in a town that’s not your town with musicians you’ve never even seen before to just walk up and say, “Can I sit in? I know I’m a white girl you’ve never seen before and have no reason to trust, but just give me a twelve-bar blues in G…”
Ah well, live and learn. Next time we’re there and they’re letting people sit in, I’ll just walk right up there and grin. THAT would be fun: to kick ass at a well-known Chicago blues club and then just leave and go back to Iowa. Heh.
We got back to our motel room around five in the morning, showed each other our new tattoos and did the necessary tattoo care regime (wash with mild soap and water, pat dry, apply ointment, stare at them in the mirror, compliment each other’s new ink, etc.) and then we went to bed and had… um… we didn’t get to sleep until well past six.
AND THEN WE GOT UP AT NINE.
We checked out, drove down town, got lattes at a Starbucks and spent a lovely 45 minutes reading the paper, and then wandered around aimlessly killing time until Gino’s opened at noon. We ordered an extra-large pie (tomato, garlic, eggplant, spinach, and ricotta) , ate one slice each, and had the other ten pounds boxed to bring home.
Then we drove home. It was a long, long, looong drive after drinking until 4:30 and getting only three hours of sleep, but we’re home and the dogs were glad to see us. I had so much fun, Brett had so much fun, we’re both really happy with our new tattoos, and we managed to blow enough cash that we don’t have to suffer any nagging feelings of flushness. (Snort!) I’m going to try to wait until dark before I crash, but I doubt I’ll make it. Especially since I just ate another slice of Gino’s pie and am feeling rather food coma-ish.
I had so much fun! I had so much fun! I had so much fun! Not only did I get to see Todd, but I got ink, and it basically counts as an anniversary trip since we were married in May. YAY!
…zzzzzZzzZzzzzzzzzZzzzzzzzz…
The guy didn’t come through. So we’re not going. I’m out a hundred dollars worth of tickets I can’t sell, and probably the hotel fee as well for not cancelling 24 hours in advance.
This sucks. I’ve never wanted a mere couple hundred dollars in cash so bad in my entire life.
I’m going to deal with my crushing disappointment by taking a fucking nap.
Not too long ago I asked the girls at Iowa Chicks Knitting if I could buy a set of stitch markers. They, being superior, just sent me some for no reason. I mean, it really makes your week to find a present in your mailbox and it’s not even a holiday.
Brett’s home today – no materials at the job site means no work for him to do – and that always throws me totally off my domestic stride. He’s just not supposed to be here when I’m cleaning the damn house. Basically I’ve accomplished nothing beyond making lunch, doing the ubiquitious dishes, putting away the laundry, and dusting half-heartedly.
The good news is that the guy Brett and his partner are working for finally sent money. Er, sort of. He said he’d send an International money order, but he didn’t. He sent a check. So it’s sitting in the account waiting to turn into real money. (I have my doubts that this transformation will actually take place, due to all the spooky crap Brett’s been telling me about this job.) (If the check bounces I will be so poor, yes. But I must admit I will take a certain amount of pleasure in my DH when he goes to the job site and UNDOES HIS WORK WITH HIS TITANIUM CROW BAR.) (He doesn’t like it when he doesn’t get paid. It rarely happens, but when you sign a contract with Mr. Brett, you’d better goddamn pay him what you said you’d pay him. THE MAN OWNS A TITANIUM CROW BAR, for heaven’s sake.)
Brett and I spent quite a while dealing with his eBay auction this afternoon. “Dealing” involved sitting in front of the computer during the auction’s final 40 minutes and clicking Refresh like total freaks. The guy who actually won the auction was suspended from eBay UK shortly afterward, but the next highest bidder purchased it and says he’ll pay via Paypal tomorrow.
If he actually does, I will get to go to Chicago to see Todd Rundgren tomorrow night. If he does not, I will have wasted a little over a hundred bucks on tickets that I will have absolutely no way to scalp since I have them in real ticket form rather than a transferrable e-ticket format.
Let me state right now that if we don’t get to go, I WILL BE SUPREMELY PISSED.
Brett, who is famous for doing absurdly irresponsible shit with money, is still making noises about thinking we shouldn’t go because we’re so broke right now blah blah blah blah BLAH, and I was forced to poke him in the gut and say, “If this were someone YOU love – like B.B. King – instead of Todd, you wouldn’t think twice about going. So shut the fuck up with your quasi-responsible maybe-we-ought-not-to-spend-money-right-now BULLSHIT! I know you don’t give a shit about Todd, BUT I DO. If we get the money, we’re going. TODD IS GODD. And that’s SO final.” He not only giggled, he agreed – because I AM SO RIGHT.
Then, lest we forget how black his heart truly is, he began looking at the Jade Dragon Tattoo web site, because, as I said, he’s famous for doing absurdly irresponsible shit with money.
In a nutshell: we can’t go if the hoist guy doesn’t pay tomorrow, but if we DO go, he’ll insist on getting a tattoo. And women are supposed to be the irrational sex!
Dear Internetizens,
Stop the madness! And STOP USING MSN TO SURF FOR PORN! MSN BRINGS YOU HERE UNDER FALSE PRETENSES.
Note that in the past day, in every instance in which MSN brought you here, YOU DID NOT FIND what you were looking for because MSN Search sucks. So. Very. Hard.
Please learn to surf for porn with a decent search engine, one with, like, clever search algorhythms.
I live two and a half miles south of Hwy 34, between Fairfield and Batavia. There’s a big project to upgrade all of 34 from a two-lane highway to a four-lane Interstate all the way across Iowa.
For the past year or so, we’ve been watching the new highway take shape. First many houses along 34 were moved or downed, then several million dollars worth of large equipment appeared and moved earth for months. Then they put down blacktop. (It was cool. They have this gigantic machine that does the entire road surface at once. One time they covered a couple MILES worth of new blacktop with tarps because it looked like rain.) Watching the new road come into being has been pretty fun.
I’ve been wanting to drive on the virgin concrete for months. Yesterday afternoon, Mr. Brett called to tell me it was open and that he was driving on it! I couldn’t wait to drive home and try it out myself.
After Gita class last night I got to drive on it. About half-way between Fairfield and Batavia, the old, cracked, bumpy, shitty 34 veered off onto the NEW BLACKTOP. It’s divine: smooth, smooth, smooth! It made the Jeep feel ten years younger, I swear. I’m really quite excited about the whole thing.
Soon I’ll be able to go 65 MPH from my house to 1-Stop Rental!
– – –
Today I was Joe’s lunch date. He has The Dread, poor dear. I feel for him. And the weather today – overcast, chilly, forboding – certainly doesn’t help.
We had iteration #47 of the “What the fuck am I doing?” conversation over mediocre Mexican food at La Hacienda restaurant. If you’re not familiar with it, #47 goes something like this: ‘I have no energy, I don’t care about anything, even partying seems stupid and unsatisfying and insipid, I want to move to Canada because then at least I wouldn’t be an ignorant fucking American, everyone seems to feels like this lately, maybe the Russians really are bombarding us with bad mental vibes after all. I mean, it’s no worse than Jyotish for explaining this shit.’
The Dread. It isn’t fair. I don’t have the dread right now myself, I have mild anxiety. But it still sucks and makes me ponder my “quality of life.” (The fact that my quality of life is so high that I have ample time in which to ponder it does not escape me. Which is a good sign.)
– – –
I love happy endings even in non-fiction, so here’s the obligatory wedding and a baby:
[13:32] reni: i have an idea
[13:33] reni: what say you about you and me flying out to see dharmaja’s wedding the end of june, complete with an extra added bonus of seeing her be married by Amma on the same day?
[13:34] Administratrix@work: WHAT?!?!?!
[13:34] Administratrix@work: I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend!
[13:34] Administratrix@work: I thought she was NEVER. GETTING. MARRIED.
[13:34] reni: she’s pregnant too
[13:35] Administratrix@work: WHAT WHAT WHAT?!?!??!??!??!??!??!
[13:35] reni: due in the fall
[13:35] Administratrix@work: ARE YOU TRYING TO *KILL* ME, WOMAN?!?
[13:35] reni: yeah, pretty much
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4 random books from my Library!
