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Six Unrelated Things

In Glorious Technicolor

1. I had a Proustian moment on my walk to work this morning–all because of architecture. The buildings in our neighborhood are old, you see; most date back a century or more. They were built in the European style, abutting the sidewalk (no front yards, only courtyards). So when you traipse down the street, you can’t avoid hearing the sounds of your neighbors’ domestic life: you’re pressed against their bedroom walls every step of the way.

I passed beneath a bathroom window, and I heard water running in the shower and caught a whiff of shampoo. It only lasted a second, but it brought back a shock of ambiguous memories. I don’t know where I was or how old I was when the memories formed, but the combination of that sound and that smell made me really happy. Bathtime fun with someone I loved.

2. A syllogism:

a. Artists are incurably weird;

b. The people with whom I work are artists;

c. Therefore, the people with whom I work are incurably weird (and must be punished).

3. Syllogisms aside, I really enjoy politics–particularly office politics. It’s such a big facilty here, with everyone divided into factions, that scheming to get what you want is always an amusing challenge. Kind of like Dangerous Liaisons without the sex.

4. My fratboy

quotient remains steady for today. I get points for breakfasting on cold, left-over pizza (my favorite, favorite delicacy), but those points are negated by the significant amount of left-over ratatouille (read: prissy food) I also consumed. Normally the empty beer bottles lying around would swing things back toward the fratrat side, but, well, they’re Beck’s.

5. Someone forwarded me an email today which I’m sure most of you have already gotten and deleted: “The 15 Telltale Signs That You’re Being Stalked by Martha Stewart.” I did, however, find one of the points amusing:

13. On her show she makes a gingerbread house that looks exactly like your split-level, right down to the fallen-over licorice downspout and the stuck half-open graham cracker garage door.

Don’t hate me. Well, okay, if you must.

6. My friend Zoddie feels a little down. Won’t one of you Atlanta ho’s drop him a line and take him out for a drinkie-poo?

7. I use Internet Explorer. When I surf, especially when I’m browsing links, I like to open links in a new window, just ’cause I sometimes find it difficult getting back to the page I started from. But after doing this a certain number of times, IE goes a little cukoo–like, my windows lose everything but the address bar and the right-click menus stop working and I can’t open any new programs. Is anyone else having this problem? Does it have anything to do with zapping javascript-opened windows? Is there anyway to fix it without holding the entire population of Redmond, Washington hostage?

Ha! (Although, with a little work it could be more like “Hahaheeheehoho!”)

California dip left to ferment in the back of the refrigerator for four months (give or take a week) is not edible. Interestingly enough, the same rule applies to spicy bean dip. In fact, based on careful observation, it’s my theory that this holds true for all dips. Somebody notify Scientific American ASAP.

(Which is my way of explaining that I’ve just spent the last bit of my holiday cleaning up the kitchen. As Homer Simpson might say when contemplating Patty and Selma in an oilwrestling match, “Uhhhhhhhhh… [shiver]”.)

Holiday pro: Once you’re an adult, there’s no more playing dress-up with mom and dad and/or attending silly events at the First Baptist Church Family Life Center.

Holiday con: Your friends’ holidays parties often invoke themes, which require elaborate costumes, theme-specific potluck offerings, or both.

Holiday pro: Rare free time spent with friends makes you realize how silly it is that you can only make time for one another on special occasions.

Holiday con: Holidays give you a chance to see the many personalities your friends possess as their alcohol tolerance ebbs away over the course of the day.

Holiday pro: Holidays give you a great chance to spend the day with your dog.

Holiday con: Spending an afternoon with your dog shows you how desperately in need of a bath she is.

Holiday pro: Time away from work gives you time to catch up on things around the house (e.g. reading, cleaning, sleeping).

Holiday con: Spending too much time in your own house makes you realize how you and your boyfriend have the same domestic hygiene habits as frat boys, including the week-old beer bottles (but not the hot sorority babes).

Holiday pro: Holidays give you plenty of time to go to the fagbars and not worry about waking up early for work the next day.

Holiday con: Every other homo within 300 miles has the same idea.

Holiday con: And the music sucks ass.

In bed at 10pm. Up at 3am. Back to bed at 7am. Up again at 8am. It’s a little frustrating.

At least I was entertained for part of it. During the second round of sleep, I found myself dreaming of Cocoa Beach, Florida (no idea why–I’ve never been there or anything–but it might have something to do with my childhood fascination with Larry Hagman on I Dream of Jeannie). Anyway, I was staying with Tom Chase–yes, that Tom Chase–who was acting as my real estate agent or something while I looked for a suitable summer beach house for Jonno and me. Tom went down to the basement to throw in a load of laundry, and when he came back, he suddenly noticed that I had an unfinished tattoo of a parrot that covered nearly all of my left thigh. I, of course, was terrified; in my book, parrots fall into the same category as unicorns do as far as tattoo subject matter is concerned: avoid them at all costs. Gradually I calmed down and went to pay my electric bill. Then I woke up.

It seems silly enough, but I checked my leg when I got out of bed, just to make sure. It was that intense.

Funny thing though: my electric bill’s due Wednesday, and I’d completely forgotten. Creepy, no?

Insomnia isn’t pretty.

Don’t look at me–Jonno’s got the pics.

On an unrelated note, I wish Mother Nature would get over this Robert Smith/Trent Reznor/Danielle Dax kick she’s on with all the grey and the glooming and the schvitzing and the no-swimming in the afternoons. Of course, if it were sunny all the time (like it was in May), I’d be complaining that it was too hot. Go figure.

Today’s genius worthy of serious, stone-cold worship: Christoper Durang. This afternoon, I reread Titanic, and I was really astonished that I’d forgotten how funny it is.

Case in point: Lidia, the Captain’s roughly 13 year-old daughter, is wandering about the ship’s dining room and suddenly plops down beside Teddy (a 20 year-old dressed as though he’s 14).

LIDIA: I used to keep a hedgehog up my vagina. (Pause.) But my parents made me stop because I kept feeding it in public. I think that’s being fussy. (Pause.) I got a funny disease from the hedgehog. They thought it was Dutch elm disease, but it wasn’t. After a while, I got a reputation, and then none of the boys would sleep with me. (Pause.) I used to bring lesbians on for a while, and they all had to get rabies shots. Am I boring you?

…

Could I borrow some of your lettuce?

TEDDY: Yes

LIDIA: Thank you. (She puts it up her dress.) I have a couple of hamsters in there now, and do they make a mess! (Keeps feeding hamsters. Fairly long pause.) My gynecologist runs the other way when he sees me coming. (She smiles.)

With all my laughing-to-the-point-of-sobbing, I’m sure the neighbors thought something awful had happened.

Ungh. Noon. Just getting up.

Head + back + shoulders = pain.

Good party.

All-purpose pick-me up for days like this: biggie fries and copious amounts of clear carbonated beverage. (Try it, you’ll see.) That and a Biore and I’ll be good to go.

Whee! We’re on for tonight after all. (There was some confusion as to whether we’d been included on the final line-up.) Off to Robert’s to pick up last minute supplies: several boxes of Kix (which’ll serve as dog food), a couple of cheap dog collars, and of course lots and lots of newspaper for those un-housebroken little puppies.

XO Wish you were here….