In which I am totally reaching for material, here. Totally.
RB picked me up after work and took me to the studio, where he played a new song he’d written for me to sing (a kick-ass blues/R&B number I wish I’d written myself about leavin’ your man), helped me learn a run in another original that I’d been totally bricking, asked me my opinion on a drum track (it just laid there), and gave me A SUPER BITCHIN’ TAMBOURINE. “Now you can’t say I never gave you nothin’,” he announced.
Then we went to the Mill Creek Brew Pub and met this dude who used to play pool with Doc Severinson.
After that, I went home and went to bed. ZzzzzZzzZzzzz.
This morning I woke up and did the sit-ups and push-ups and leg lifts that I did not do before bed last night, and then fell back asleep ’cause that’s how I roll. Then I got up, had a breakfast sandwich, showered, dressed, and then walked briskly to work.
Briskly. Gah. If only I could exercise while asleep… that’d be ideal.
In which I finally tell you all about GBM!
I’m somewhat ashamed that I only blogged twice while I was actually traveling to a blogger meet-up, but there were the issues of laptop shortages, busyness, fatigue, and inebriation and I flickred and twittered like a demon so it’s not like there wasn’t some content.
Let me say first that I love all the bloggers I met. Love them. Didn’t meet a single soul I didn’t like, but fell particularly in love with Vuboq (omg, the unrelenting Southern hospitality and the cheese grits), Hypenated Non-Identity, and I Think I Need A New Heart… though I pretty much expected to love those boys. All sweet, wonderful people.
Secondly, all of Vuboq’s friends are, to a one, lovely people. He’s an incredibly fortunate person. The pre-birthday party on Saturday night was populated by nothing but wonderful people, most of whom were excessively pretty gay men with cute jeans and cute hair and cute shoes… Since I’m essentially style-free I knew I’d be utterly outclassed, and I was. (I mean, it’s not like I don’t know I spent fifteen years in freakin’ Iowa and then moved here to hicksville.)
Thirdly, Vuboq drinks like a fish. He tried to blame it all on us, his guests, but who kept ordering pitchers of margaritas? And sangria, huh? I shall tell you: it was VUBOQ.
On Sunday we went out for Mexican food and then went to a gay bar called Cobalt where we drank cheap cocktails and didn’t dance. Ray told an hysterical story about thinking, when he was eight or so, that his mom – an undercover cop – was actually a hooker. Then Canada disappeared with a pocket gay named Billy and barely returned in time to get a ride home with the rest of us, thoroughly freaking Only Me out. When we got home from that, I poured another round and Vuboq and I sat on his bed and had a twitter war and laughed ourselves silly – I had so much fun I can’t even express it, because WHO KNEW Vuboq could, with sufficient booze in him, start doing a strange and wonderful Cartman-meets-lolcats accent?! Certainly not me. He’s just lucky I didn’t wet his damn bed.
On Saint Patrick’s Day, the actual birthday, Hyphenated left at six to make a business meeting in Pittsburgh. Hours later, Only Me made breakfast in bed for the Birthday Princess… and then we just lounged around until past three because we were all hung over. Eventually we left for DC, and we walked the Mall but didn’t go into any of the museums because we were useless and so we opted instead to go get tapas and sangria at Jaleo. (There really aren’t any words for how amazing the food is there, so I won’t bother. Suffice it to say that you should eat there the next time you’re in DC.)
We took the Metro home. Only Me went to pick up the GBM t-shirts he’d ordered, and Vuboq and I stopped at Whole Paycheck to get a few things. Then we went home and I did the dishes and then made an awesome pot of veggie chili. Tomoko and hubby, as well as SCGB, dropped in to eat with us. We killed two bottles of wine.
Today I got up at ten to six, dressed, and then took a bus, two trains, another bus, three planes, and a car. I was home by 6:35. I’ve blogged and uploaded photos and now I’m going to pass the hell out because I have to work tomorrow.
In which I can’t believe no one took off their pants.
Vuboq’s birthday party was a resounding success. There were twenty-five in attendance and between us we drank five litres of vodka, a fifth of rum, and half a bottle of tequila.
The most amazing part to me was that no one got loud, no one drove anything with an internal combustion engine or shot off a gun, and no one took off their pants. Vuboq’s friends are all refined, well-traveled, educated, and totally great at totally tanking without getting obnoxious.
I really enjoyed everyone I met – Vuboq is blessed with amazing friends. The conversations were fun and interesting (I even had a great talk with M. about Amma – he’d been to India and had met a hugging sadhu in a temple), the people were all beautiful, and the birthday cake? Was homemade and gorgeous.
I laughed a lot and talked a lot and got hugged a lot. If I’d had time to write about it yesterday I’d now be relating charming anecdotes in detail, but I opted instead for a nap yesterday afternoon and both of the laptops were getting heavy use anyway with five us here all needing to check email, bank accounts, and blogs on the Internet. (I didn’t bother to bring my laptop because I figured there’d be several here, but Jake didn’t bring one and Jay’s grounded Australian plug won’t fit in the adapter so he can’t use his at all so there’s only two.)
…I was about to relate last night’s events, but the Birthday Girl just told me to get a move on. We’re going to the mall to wander, and the weather’s gorgeous.
In which I’m here, bitches! At GBM! And it’s so totally wonderful omgwtfbbq!!!1!
It took three planes and ONE MILLION HOURS, but I finally made it to Baltimore. Vuboq and Clio Bluestocking picked me up from the airport, and then we came to Vuboq’s for pizza and wine. Yum! Pizza! And wine!
I think we were all pleasantly passed out by eleven. Hypenated said he snores if he’s been drinking, and he might have but I passed out so immediately it didn’t matter.
Right now we’re waiting for the coffee to brew, and then there will be an attempt toward brunch and bloody marys. Then there are no plans until six, when we’re all going out for Burmese fud, but Only Me needs international power adapters because elsewise he’ll be without laptop and cell phone.
This was about an hour ago.
In which there’s a hair emergency, bitches!
This morning I washed my new hair and conditioned it and slathered it with all the product I own, which isn’t much but should have been enough to control it.
Then I went outside, where it’s raining, and under an umbrella walked to the bus stop and then rode the bus and then walked a few blocks to work but by the time I got here my hair had stopped being sleek and straight and cute and had become instead this giant flouffy thing!
I NEED PRODUCT IN THE WORST WAY. I shall be visiting the salon on my lunch hour, OMG.
Update: Whew. I went to the salon, and they sold me productz! Yay!
In which it’s freaking growing back already.
I tried to go to Sweet Basil Pizzaria for lunch today but they were closed because they’re off having a baby or something. I wandered over to Merchant’s and ordered a sandwich, but they lost my order and I didn’t get it for a long time. I snarfed half of it and put the rest into a go box and walked back to work, where I logged in a minute late back from my break.
I have a box here at my desk containing half a veggie sandwich, some chips, and some potato salad. They also gave me a cookie for my trouble; hopefully it doesn’t have raisins or something equally gross in it.
The bad news is that I apparently possess supernatural powers of healing: I had three normal months after having my uterus scoured out (“normal” in this case meaning a schedule on which one bleeds for a few days, and then does not bleed at all the rest of the time), but now it seems the respite is over and I’m back to spotting all the time. This means my uterine lining is POSSESSED and is REPLICATING AT AN EVIL MAD RATE, A CONDITION THAT IS RIGHTLY TERRIFYING TO NATIONS AROUND THE GLOBE.
Stupid uterus.
In which I feel totally cute.
I got up early today and went and had my hair done.
I got highlights, I got lowlights, I got it cut using three different types of cutting devices, I got my eyebrows colored and waxed, AND I got free coffee. My hair is all blonde and straight and asymetrical bob and everything.
I’m so freakin’ happy! I shall have cute hair for GBM!
When I walked into work, everybody was all, “Your hair! It’s so cute!” and I was all, “Dude! Thanks!”
In which we turn and face the strange / ch-ch-changes.
Two years ago today, I was married and living in rural Iowa doing the American Dream thing, with the mortgage and the house under reconstruction and the quiet desperation and all that shit. The Ex was working in Cedar Rapids that week and I was very carefully not blogging about what a fucking relief it was to have him out of the house so I could have a break from the daily battle of either providing sex I didn’t want to provide or enduring a nasty fight instead. He’d been being a good husband for months by that point but I couldn’t bring myself to care. He’d waited too long, made me wait too long, and I found I just couldn’t thaw over a clean kitchen counter or a load of folded laundry… not after having literally begged for six years for just such small kindnesses.
I felt like a royal bitch but I was too fractured to stop being one. I was drinking a great deal, and working a part-time job when I wasn’t cleaning fucking house. I was miserable and rotting and totally ignoring it because I couldn’t figure out how to escape the double albatross of marriage license and mortgage. I had panic attacks all the time and I censored damn near everything I said because the vast majority of it was so terribly cruel it couldn’t be uttered. I felt frozen. If you’d asked, I’d have told you I was happy. I spent hours daydreaming about being single: not about handsome lovers or travel or riches, but about being alone in a small, clean space I had total dominion over.
One year ago today, I was separated. I was living in AmmZon’s house and starting a part-time job. I was drinking a lot and sleeping a lot and partying a lot, but I was beginning to feel more like me than I had in years. It was a transformative phase, and I remember finding incredible joy in simply not being nagged, not having to check in with anyone, not having to do anything I didn’t damn well want to do. I felt like I was decompressing, like I’d been chained at the bottom of the sea and had finally gotten free.
Today, I’m living thousands of miles away from all that. My whole life is different. These days, instead of being a wife on 27 acres with literally tons of belongings I’m a 39-year-old woman who owns no towels or flatware, no furniture or linens. [I own less right now than I did twenty years ago. If we count success by accumulation, I’m a miserable failure: I don’t even have a bicycle, let alone a car.] I’m just starting to make friends here, but for the most part I’m lonely. I live with my grandmother and work a full-time job that offers no room for growth that I’m incredibly grateful to have at all. I spend an awful lot of time alone inside my own head, thinking about ageing and what I thought I’d be doing the year I turn 40 and realizing I never had a plan: when I was younger I wanted to get married and play house but I don’t think I’d ever really visualized myself actually being that person…
Before marriage I was always looking for The One, but ever since my separation the mere idea of starting a romantic entanglement sends me into freakin’ orbit: I want nothing to do with anyone else’s desires or needs WHATSOEVER. I’m craving friendship and companionship, yes, but I’d probably gnaw my own arm off before I’d consider seeing anyone romantically. I’ve realized that when you’re in a relationship you’ve tacitly agreed to give a shit about another person and that you’re obligated to try, no matter how tired or needy you are yourself, pretty much whenever they ask you to. And I do not find the perqs of a relationship to be worth that cost. I’d rather be alone, quite frankly. It’s too expensive, to be always willing to try, to be always willing to give, to be always willing to put another first just for some dubiously good companionship and a little more money than you ever have when you’re alone.
I think I’ve finally become disabused of the notion of romantic love. Not because I’m a scrooge, but because I don’t think any such thing exists: a successful relationship is probably built of enjoyment and tolerance and understanding and honesty, and all of those things as far as I can tell are diametrically opposite of ‘romance,’ which seems to require in order to function a certain amount of misunderstanding and objectification. What I mean to say is that if you know someone well enough to actually be with them, you can’t possibly have ‘romantic’ feelings about them because by then you know they fart and you can’t possibly ever crave them in that romantic love sort of way.
The whole concept of romance has done hearts and culture more damage than fast food, I swear. Meh.
In other news, today is goblinbox’s seventh birthday! Happy birthday, goblinbox.com!
In which I’m ramping up for GBM.
As you know, I’m flying to DC over the weekend of St Pat’s for GBM. I’ve been trying to decide what to wear, which is problematic because all of my clothes are old and worn out and crappy, or they’re hand-me-downs that don’t really fit, or I’m just plain old feeling fat.
Then there’s the seasonal issue. I am always and forever traveling at season change, so I feel like I have to bring clothes for both warm and cold weather and I end up over-packing and still having nothing to wear.
So I’ve decided to give up entirely on the idea of dressing well since it’s so far out of my reach, and have made a hair appointment. Right now I’m growing out the red dye I’d used last year, and have unappealing roots of mousy brown shot with gray (because apparently I’ve become old in the past six months). I’m getting a trim and some foil highlights.
I was thinking about getting a real hair cut – like a new style and everything – but I’ve never been to this particular stylist before and don’t want to end up with something awful 48 hours before leaving for vacation.
I’m gonna be doing laundry and pre-packing this weekend. I’m so excited to be going to DC! It’s almost like having a real life.
In other news, my terrible cold has abated and I feel nearly human again. My room is still a mess and I still have no social life, my dog is still fat, I still have no car, and I’m still in debt up to my eyebrows… but at least I’m not deathly ill. One of these days I might even write an interesting post.
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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!
