Saturday, May 31, 2003

Below the Rim: the WNBA Game

The Good: Our seats were fantastic. Sixth row, cushy chairs, right in front of the basket.
The Bad: Our 7'2" Polish center can't shoot, can't defend and apparently cannot understand when the point guard yells, "Margo, run over to where I am pointing, you idiot."

The Good: Lesbians as far as the eye could see.
The Bad: That ubiquitous lesbian haircut.

The Good: Point guard Jennifer Azzi's biceps, delts and triceps.
The Bad: The way my g/f was staring at Azzi's muscles.

The Good: My girlfriend's tight black T-shirt and blue jeans.
The Bad: No bad, she looked totally hot.

The Good: Being at the game.
The Bad: Losing the game.

We left a little early to beat the traffic.
Watching the WNBA is fun as long as you don't expect much of the players.

Friday, May 30, 2003

The Spurs: Western Conference Champions!

After the Spurs scared me half to death last night in the third quarter with a horrible score differential, enter Steve Kerr in the fourth with quadruple threes from downtown and presto, Dallas was done. He played 12 minutes and scored 12 points, coming in ice cold from the far end of the bench. Yeow!
Now we have to face the New Jersey Nets in the finals.
Enter the dreaded wife beater Jason Kidd, whose face looks like he's been sniffing dirty cat litter.
The good news is, Kidd is a veteran of the Western Conference, where he was among several outstanding players. When he went to the watered down Eastern Conference, of course he was going to make the Nets look better, he's a giant fish in a smaller pond.
The Nets faced the Lakers last year in the finals and lost.
If the Spurs beat the Lakers in round two of the playoffs this season, does that mean they can beat the team the Lakers beat last season in the finals?
I think so.
The Spurs have no answer for Jason Kidd. Tony Parker is no Jason Kidd.
But we have Tim Duncan. Even when he's double teamed, we have enough perimeter talent to score when he's swamped.
If you like good, fundamental basketball with no ticky tacky fouls, no dramatic flopping, no dirty elbows or knees, and no hot dogging, no-look, behind the back, dipsy doodle bullshit grandstanding, watch these finals.

Thursday, May 29, 2003

Start Your Search Engines!

The Shoe:
Women's Waterproof Blue Euro Dub Chukka Style #85309
Size 8
Cornflower blue leather.

The Timberland Shoe website has them for $100., plus shipping.
I simply have to beat that price.
For the contestant who can find a spot on the web where I can save at least $25 on that specific shoe, you'll win a swell prize such as a book, a new CD or an authentic vintage lesbian pulp fiction novel from my personal collection.
The shoe must be that exact brand, color and model number.*
I must be able to order the shoe in the right size for the contestant to qualify for the prize.
This is a swell chance to exercise that pesky obsessive compulsive disorder!
Ladies and Gentlemen: Start your engines!

* has the same shoe on sale in pink and purple, but these have to be blue.
Walls, Calls and the WNBA

• The ceiling is done and it only cost me a few scrapes on my legs from the ladder.
Today, Sears beckons for wall paint and a new roller. None of this brush shit for the walls, it'll be roller all the way, babies.
• My friend and ex girlfriend (circa early 90's) Cris called me last night, giddy about her first date with Margaret the college professor. Cris is never giddy, she's a serious type who is never given to flights of fancy, but she was a regular Gidget last night.
The date sounded perfect for her. They both smoke, neither drinks and both are quiet types. Thank God they met. Cris needed some serious hoeing in her love garden.
• Meanwhile, some top drawer floor seats (6th row) for Friday's WNBA game came available, so I am taking my girlfriend.
We have a brand new WNBA team, the Silver Stars, who will be facing Minnesota. I know nothing of the roster, except we have a 7'2" center from Poland. My experience with women's basketball tells me she'll be clumsy and scared of the ball, but let's hope I am wrong.
I have been a harsh critic of women's pro basketball because they play below the rim and they jack up a lot of poorly selected shots, but maybe this game will be different.
Some of the roster are only 5'8".
I am that tall, so I could have been a WNBA pro! The only things I lack are stamina, coordination, poor shooting ability except for a nice hook shot three feet to the left of the hoop, a general disdain for playing team sports, and old age.
But I'm sure I have the right shoes, and that counts for something.
• Let's review.
Sears for paint
Lesbian gossip
Women's pro basketball
Damn, am I ever turning into a typical dyke. All I need now is a miniature Schnauzer, a travel trailer and a nylon windbreaker.

Wednesday, May 28, 2003

Shoes Blues

My girlfriend doesn't like to get too many gifts. I tend to be a gift giver, so we've had to compromise...a lot. The latest compromise was that she wants just one gift when her birthday comes in July (as if).
I was already obsessing about what the one gift might be, so when she told me what she wanted I got all excited.
She saw on one of her students some powder blue suede Timberlands, and she wanted them.
Last night we drove all over hell and back looking for those shoes. All the little teenaged clerks knew exactly the shoes we were searching for, but there were none in stock.
I was crestfallen. Enter
I think I may have found them, now I have to wait for her to look at the site and tell me if those are the ones.
Never mind all that- has some incredible deals on casual shoes and sneakers. Look at the "final score" section.
See? When we try to do for others, the Universe rewards us with really good shoe deals.
3 p.m. done painting

i am so tired i cant lift my arms or even shift to capitalize letters.
ceiling painting is some sort of cruel punishment. i used a brush because it's less messy and I didn't want to use a tarp because i trip over them. i must have been insane.
i have a date at 7 with la, i hope she can help prop me up and is willing to listen to my joints creak over the loud moaning that comes from excess fatigue.
right now a 2 pound dumbbell looks like too much to move. a can of diet soda feels like it weighs about 15 pounds.
i feel like gumby, left in the hot sun on asphalt pavement.
woe is me. ow.
Wednesday Blog-o-Rama

I should have awakened in a horrid mood.
• The Spurs lost a sure-win last night against the Dallas Mavericks. It's now 3-2.
I missed part of the second quarter because I ended up talking basketball with a long distance telemarketer for 15 minutes. He's a Kings fan, so I reassured him that the Maloof brothers would do whatever it took for them to be a better team next season.
• My living room and dining room look like Armageddon. Painting the ceilings today is not a choice, it is a must, lest my feng shui sensitivities be forever warped.
• I am one day away from a haircut and I awakened looking like a cross between a pineapple and a troll doll. No outdoor appearances for me today.
• I keep losing and gaining the same two pounds. I am calling it "new muscle weight."
I have been lifting weights a lot lately so that's my alibi and I'm sticking to it.
• My best friend Anna's son Andrei is worrying us. He's about to enter first grade and his early development was hampered by neglect in a Romanian orphanage. He spent his first year in a ratty little crib all by himself and I'm sure nutrition was lacking, not to mention vital physical contact.
Also, he's one of those kids who doesn't quite fit the little boy mold. He's not a jock, he isn't rough and he likes to sing and play with girls.
I keep telling her it's better to have a little Billy Elliot type kid than some big lug who grows up to be a frat boy and ends up wearing Dockers and button down collar shirts while he drinks beer at some titty bar.
He may have a rough childhood but I'll bet it'll make him a better man. His parents love him and will provide him with anything he needs for educational advancement, so he'll be okay, we just wish he was already okay.
• I am out of groceries. Well, I am out of cool groceries, that is. My fruit supply has dwindled down to a wrinkled mango, a bruised pear and two elderly lemons. Even my obsessively huge diet soda collection is waning.
• Yesterday, I got a tax bill for $868. I have it, I just hate to give it to those greedy bastards.

Still, I am in a curiously good mood.
I think it's because I've been reading Rumi before I go to sleep every night. It's sort of like a cross between the Bible and ee cummings.
Also, I received a copy of the double CD "Luaka Bop 10th Anniversary: Zero Accidents on the Job" from yesterday.
Luaka Bop is the record label founded by Talking Heads David Byrne, and this CD is a sampler of his artists' music.
Here's the thing. If you like obscure World Music with lots of percussion and beautiful vocals singing in exotic, foreign languages, this CD fills the bill.
I intend to blast it while I paint. I just know it'll make the work go fast.

Tuesday, May 27, 2003

Fugue State

Sometime in the last 24 hours an alien invaded my being and made all sorts of painting preparations in my living room and dining room.
Carpet is rolled up, furniture is moved and a ladder is leaning against the living room wall.
There is a fresh white ring of paint around the newly dusted living room ceiling fan, and evidence of recent trim paint application on the dining room window frame.
My fate is sealed.
I must spend Wednesday finishing what the alien started.
No more protein and soy milk shakes for breakfast. Too much energy brings the alien to life. I MUST PAY.
And you think this Blog was boring, Thursday's going to be a haircut Blog.
Still Cool at 70: Willie Nelson

Last night I hunkered down to watch the "Willie Nelson and Friends: Live and Kickin" special on USA network.
I like Willie pretty much. After all, he is a liberal, offbeat Texan personified.
Guys like Willie are why the rest of the U.S. doesn't bomb us off the map. Admit it, without guys like Willie, you non-Texans would totally hate us Texans.
He makes Texas seem like happy outlaw country, with his only crimes being smoking huge quantities of curiously strong pot, wearing his hair down to his waist and playing the world's most fucked-up old guitar.
Damn, does Willie have some friends.
Eric Clapton, the God of guitar, was humbled in Willie's presence when they did a duet of "Nightlife." Clapton's electric guitar blues and Willie's acoustic blues combined were heavenly.
Diana Krall, Elvis Costello and Willie did "Crazy." Diana and Elvis make a perfect couple.
Norah Jones and Willie did "Wurlitzer Prize" and I could see Willie was as turned on by NJ as the rest of us are. Her little smile could arouse a junkie.
Here's who else showed up to play: Paul Simon, Sheryl Crow, Kris Kristofferson, Shania Twain, Toby Keith, Lyle Lovett, Ray Price, ZZ Top, Shelby Lynne, Ray Charles, Leon Russell, John Mellenkamp, Kenny Chesney, Steven Tyler and Wyclef Jean.
The only really bad number was the duet between Wyclef Jean and Willie.
They played "To All the Girls I've Loved Before" in a reggae arrangement and Wyclef kept going off the lyrical map and befuddling Willie. They both looked so stoned it's a wonder they could play at all. Willie + Reggae= wrong, wrong, wrong.
Anyway, the show will be replayed Saturday May 31 at 1 a.m. central and Sunday, July 1 at 8 a.m. central. Borrow some pot from the neighbor kid and try to watch it.
It was that good.

Sunday, May 25, 2003

Bloggy Dim Sum

• Of course no publisher wants an option on a book from NY Times liar Jayson Blair.
He's a clown. Let him go work at Fox News.
• Seen on the street on my bike ride: two dead birds, one dead squirrel, four broken beer bottles, one used condom.
• You should see the form I have to fill out in order to visit my political dissident friend in prison. It's a bureaucratic masterpiece. My favorite question is, "do you want to visit this person?"
• Melly and I may go to Barnes and Noble today so I can use up my gift certificates. I also got to delete eight books from my Amazon wish list because I already got them. My goal is not to get any more books that will help me argue with Barcodie.
• My girlfriend la's daughter apparently wants the black and white kitten. She wants to name him Oreo. The kid is thinking cookie, the mom is worried about being PC. I think the name Oreo for a black and white kitty is cute.
The Bad, the Good and the Tofu

Bad: Went to paint, upstairs room, slanty walls near low ceiling, ceiling fan on high.
I reached up with the roller, miscalculated the distance between the blades and my hand and got whacked. Not a terrible whack, just enough to bruise the area. Ow.
Good: Snuck over to the g/f's house after 9. Hot tub, pool, hot tub, then pool again.
Tofu: Iron Chef challenge! This time a woman chef against Chinese Iron Chef Chen Kanichi. Canton vs. Szechwan! Chen won. Now I am craving Cantonese food.

Today: kitten viewing and the Spurs game. What bliss.

Saturday, May 24, 2003

My Helliday Weekend

Well, actually just today will be hell.
I threw out all my tattered old clothing, so I had to find an appropriate painting outfit in what remains. Now comes the question of shoes. I'm thinking something in a scuffed white Adidas leather, circa '93.
Sunday will be better. I am going with the girlfriend and her kids to see some kittens that belong to her sister's mama cat. I feel like Odysseus sailing past the sirens, trying not to succumb to the lure of an infant kitty. I blame Tracy for this with her damn Kitty Central blog.
Also on Sunday, Melly and I may do something. Maybe watch the game, where the Spurs will beat the Mavericks again.
Monday starts my holiday. All day, alone with the g/f. What bliss.
What are your big plans? Talk amongst yourselves.

Friday, May 23, 2003

Memorial Day Weekend Drudge

My good friends Cynthia and Ruben are adopting a baby boy in July. What's interesting is they are Mexican American and their baby boy is going to turn out be a blonde, pure Anglo- if his brother is any indicator.
The best part is, Cynthia is 42 and Ruben is 72, but the birth parents selected them among a field of others because they are just plain cool. She's a doctor of psychology and he's a Presbyterian minister with a ponytail and a '57 Chevy.
So, last Wednesday when I was at their house to watch the Spurs dismantle the Dallas Mavericks, they asked what I was doing this weekend. Thinking they were going to be having a giant poolside Memorial Day party, I said, "Nothing, what's up?"
Turns out the baby's nursery needs painting.
I was caught in a sting operation.
My Saturday is officially shot.
Then later Wednesday night, Cynthia asked what I intended my function to be once the baby got here. I replied the only way I could.
"Are you willing to baby-sit?"
"Oh, God no."
"Why not?"
"I am 50, I don't do shitty diapers."
"Why not?"
"Projectile vomiting. Who do I look like, Mary Delli Santi?"
"Never mind."
I simmered her down by telling her I'd ask la, a veteran diaper changer, if she'd help me baby-sit little whatshisname.
I asked la if she would.
She said, "Hell no, I've raised my babies and I'm done!"
It may take a village to raise a child, but Cynthia can consider me the village idiot.
I don't know nuthin' about changin' no baby and that ain't gonna change, neither.
Welcome to My Commencement

My pal Kelly over at Welcome to my Life has just graduated from college.
All single lesbians should check her out. She's funny, articulate, has a very nice voice and is cute as a kitten.
Why, if she weren't young enough to be my daughter, I'd...oh never mind.
Brava, Kelly!

Thursday, May 22, 2003

Tell All Books

I hope everyone who's deserting the sinking Bush ship only two years into this abysmal administration finds the same publisher to issue their memoirs so we can get boxed sets.
I don't want to miss one moment reading of the resident's foibles.
Tommy Franks was in line to lead the Joint Chiefs of Staff. To walk away from that speaks volumes in itself.
At this rate, another set of playing cards may need to be printed: people who ditched the pinhead halfway into his misadministration.

Some very interesting queer news on the political front.
It seems Congressman Mark Foley, a republican from Florida who's running for Senate, is gay. You have to wonder why a gay man would belong to a party whose platform does not support his sexual orientation.
Foley has a strong right wing, conservative voting record and for years he's denied his gayness when questioned. Too many others have come forward to out him, so the cat is out of the garment bag, whether Foley likes it or not.
Foley voted for the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA), which held that homosexuals couldn't be legally married.
Sounds like closet boy can't be loyal to his gayness or his political party. Why would anyone vote for someone with so much internal conflict?
I think a gay homophobic is far more dangerous than a straight one. All that internalized hatred can't possibly be mentally healthy.

Meanwhile on the Democrat side of the fence, it turns out Dick Gebhardt's daughter is a lesbian. Chrissy, a 30-year-old social worker, will be helping her daddy in his upcoming bid for the presidency.
Gephardt's campaign website makes a brief reference to Chrissy's partner, Amy, who is also included in a family photo on the site. The two live together in Washington, where Chrissy works with survivors of trauma and abuse at a mental health agency. Amy is also a social worker.
Score another point for Gephardt, and please note that he has the common sense to openly court the powerful gay and lesbian voting bloc.
My thanks to John Aravosis, whose fascinating and informative mailing list mentioned these stories.

In another area, you have to love Dubya's solution for fighting forest fires.
Giving the logging industry a legal green light to hack down more than 190 million acres of forests in order to prevent fires is like eating a whole cheesecake so you won't be tempted by it later.
The logging industry contributes $4.6 million a year to politicians, most of them- you guessed it- Republicans.
Just how many more ways will Dubya try to screw this country before he is ousted?

Wednesday, May 21, 2003

Bush Haiku

Whitman says, "I quit!"
The sky is smoggy and the
water smells like shit!

Fleischer says, "I quit!"
Pinnochio would quit too
I can't lie no more

Cheney says, "I'll stay"
Who else would hire an old
guy with heart trouble?

Rumsfeld says, "I'll stay"
It's easy to work for Rove
He's evil, like me!

Rice and Powell will stay
They say Massah George treats his
Black folks really nice

Saddam says he'll stay
with George Dubya at the helm
Saddam stays alive!

Bin Laden loves Bush
He uses him to show all
what jerks Yanks can be

Has Anyone Noticed?

We are back on "orange alert," Bin Laden and Saddam are apparently both still alive and pissed off, terrorism threats are increasing and we may be in more danger of terrorist attacks than ever.
White House Press Secretary Ari Fleischer is quitting, EPA head Christie Whitman is quitting, and many of Dubya's economic advisors have already quit.
We still don't know who sent the anthrax letters, the budget is so dicey Alan Greenspan is "guardedly optimistic," and unemployment is way up.
How can anyone in his right mind say that Bush is a strong leader?
His own people are abandoning this sinking ship.
If you are happy with Bush, please tell us why.

Tuesday, May 20, 2003

Random Glances Around Blogland

Finally I had some time to read my Bloggy link friends' stuff. I'd hyperlink but I am too lazy. Just go click the names on the right if you're curious.

• Seems Blogland Lothario and overall nice guy wKen got hacked by some Brazilian cyber terrorists. They probably envy his perky all-American cocksmanship.
• Kitty Central is that damned Tracy's new Blog devoted to pics of the feral kittens she has in her basement. They are so cute, if someone sees their pics and doesn't melt they have psychological problems and need immediate therapy.
• Barcodie has gone a bit too far in dressing up his little cartoon Barcodie character. I don't think the little guy holding an M-16 adds to his otherwise suave and sophisticated caché. No sense gilding the lily, I say.
• I have two Blogger friends I'll call Smelly and Cracy who seem to constantly outdiva each other.
I feel like a chewtoy being yanked between their powerful, feline jaws. Bitches, you both get more hits than I do, so simmer down!
• Jodi over at Because I Say So is so damned funny I just love her Blog. I wish she'd allow for comments, but she's stubborn like that.
• Raven at Milk and Pepsi is a Dallas Mavs fan. I am a Spurs fan. The two teams are battling it out right now for the Western Conference title. Her team is fucking around with hacking fouls and other pissant attempts to disguise their overall inferiority.
There could be a war between us over this. Bet on me, I am bigger and I have her home address and phone number.
• My sweet new gayboyfriend Robert's Nash Villain Blog was blank when I tried to read it. That's just wrong. He sent me a photo. Damn, he's cute.

Six Feet Under

Director Kathy Bates must have skipped a few doses of Prempro before directing the very dark episode last Sunday.
Suddenly Ruth is behaving like a U-Haul lesbian, moving too fast with George, a man she hardly knows. All I can think of when I see George is the movie "Babe," where he played the farmer. Oh well, at least he's not Arthur.
That won't last. James Cromwell's too big a star to be a supporting cast member.
David tricked out on Keith. I normally disapprove of infidelity, but I think David needed to be with someone else to solidify his desire to leave that awful relationship. Keith is so grouchy now he's not even pretty to look at anymore.
Speaking of infidelity, how many of you thought Lisa would walk in on Nate banging that dead guy's daughter in their bed? And speaking of which, is it me or was that a far leap to think a man worried sick about his missing wife would be screwing some trailer trash chick in his own bed while his baby slept five feet away?
Okay, what's wrong with Federico's wife? She gives me acid indigestion with all that rapid cycling emotional debris. Hey Vanessa: shut up and snap out of it!
Claire's abortion was depressing. Hint: screwing a bisexual guy is a great time for using condoms. I mean, come on, Russell can't remember to wash his hair. Is that really the kind of guy a girl should ride bareback?
And that Lisa. I saw the sneak preview of the season finale and spied her face. With all this anticipation, she better at least give us the courtesy of being dead.
After that episode, I wanted to take a shower to rinse off all the lactic acid I secreted by cringing too much. Oy, Kathy Bates. Take it easy on us.

Monday, May 19, 2003

Loose Ends

I have too much to do.
Every time I accomplish one thing, it seems I uncover something else that needs doing.
I patched my ceiling cracks. Now I have to paint the ceiling.
Once I do that, the walls will need painting.
I moved out my huge air conditioner. Now the window frame needs sanding and painting.
I installed a new air conditioner in another window. Now I have to move my stereo components so that wall isn't so cramped.
I finish one story. My editor sends another assignment.
I once had a baby raccoon as a pet. They are very strange little animals. They take one step forward and two steps backward. It's a wonder they ever get anywhere.
What I need to do is stop feeling like that raccoon and get on my new bike and ride until my head is clear and my tasks are prioritized.
But, no.
Instead, I Blog.
Later, I will blog about last night's Six Feet Under. How a television show can drag the viewer wherever it wants and shake them silly is beyond my comprehension.

Sunday, May 18, 2003

Iron Chef and Some Trashy Heavy Metal

Last night the Iron Chef featured a codfish battle. Neither chef used much of the actual meat but they did get wiggy with the roe, stomach and heads of the fish.
When I saw the creme brulee using codfish roe, the thought of a dessert fish dish was too nauseating to ponder and we clicked it off.
The girlfriend and I met Cris (my long-ago ex girlfriend) last night for drinks and dinner.
After some slightly uncomfortable note comparing about moi, things went pretty well. Cris liked la and la thought Cris was sweet.
We went to a Greek place for dinner and la and I split an order of the most wonderful pastichio with a bechamel sort of browned meringue on top. I wish that stuff was low carb and low fat, I'd eat it every day.
Before dinner, la and I removed the world's heaviest window unit air conditioner from my dining room window. We had to use a dolly and muscle it out to the curb.
She, being from a rather upper crust neighborhood, expressed great doubt at my insistence that some scavenger would pick it up and haul it away.
My neighbors Andy, Leeza and Pete scurried over as we were dropping it at the curb and expressed the same doubts. Andy was clearly worried he'd have to look at the ancient pile of crap until I called the city and paid them to haul it off.
I just snickered.
I made up a sign that read, "FREE AC 18,000 btu's U HAUL" and taped it to the monstrosity.
We left for dinner at 6.
When we returned at 8:45, all that was left were deep scuff marks on my sidewalk from some poor bastard having to drag it off. They even kept the sign.
la was suitably astounded. I just chuckled.
Recycling is best when it's convenient, I say.

Saturday, May 17, 2003

Continuing Music Battle

With the wretched sounds of Freddie Cannon still echoing in my head, the first thing I did this morning was order two new CDs from
One is "Beliza Tropical," the David Byrne compilation of popular Brazilian music, and the other is, "Luaka Bop 10th Anniversary: Zero Accidents on the Job," which is yet another compilation of David Byrne's, based on the catalog of his record label Luaka Bop.
Both are the kind of music that soften a frazzled brain while they breeze through the air.
I was telling la about a recording my late husband and I used to love back in the day.
It was Weather Report's "Heavy Weather." She went all over town to surprise me with a copy and it turned out to be a "super audio" version. Whatever that is requires a super audio CD player, which I do not have. I felt so bad for her, going to all that trouble.
Lately I've been chewing on Joni Mitchell's "For the Roses." It's a gorgeous CD with some great bittersweet songs about love, lost love, found love, etc.
Once again I'll pose my favorite question.
If you were stranded on a desert island and could choose only three CD's to play while you were there, which would they be?

Friday, May 16, 2003

It's a Conspiracy

I don't know what's happening, but the last three retail establishments I visited were playing nothing but 50' and '60's music.
I'm not talking the Doors and Jimi Hendrix, I'm talking Ruby and the Romantics, the Platters, Fats Domino and Gary Lewis and the Playboys.
I do not like squeezing melons to "Hang on Sloopy."
I loathe trying on clothing with a New Christie Minstrels' song blaring in my ears.
At Sears, I was buying a new air conditioner. The B-side 50's music was so horrible I had to go outside in the humidity and wait for package pickup.
I mean, the song, "You Make me Wanna Shout" is a cool song if I'm half lit and dancing in a bar somewhere, but at 10 a.m., I don't need the aggravation.
I was recently in this trashy Big Lots or one of those kinds of stores looking for some gardening stuff. I wanted to get in and get out fast, but the music was so good I dallied.
If they can play good songs like "Rock the Casbah" and "Tainted Love" why can't these other dumps do the same?
We have a new Super Target I recently visited to get some new doodads for my bike.
I walked in, all settled to have a leisurely shopping experience then I heard it, Freddie Boom Boom Cannon singing, "Where the Action is."
For the youth out there, here's the essence of that song:
Oh baby come on.
Oh baby come on.
Oh baby come on.
It's so great to meet your baby where the action is.
I stayed for one whooo too many.
That fucking song is still etching furrows in my brain.
An Infrequent Sports Blog

The Spurs beat the thrice-champion Lakers last night at their arena by an astounding 110-82. That's 28 points, also known as "giving the Lakers a basketball clinic."
Still, the ABC sports commentators, specifically Bill Walton, need to be horsewhipped and dragged down Pacific Coast Highway in Shaquille O'Neal's big, sweaty jock.
Picture this:
• Spurs' Tim Duncan scores on a triple team and draws a foul.
Walton: "Amazing defense by the Lakers! It's a miracle that went in. And the foul on Horry is questionable."
• Kobe Bryant jacks up a 17 footer and misses.
Walton: "Another fantastic and marvelous effort by the near-flawless Bryant."
Spurs lead by 6 points.
Walton: "We are witnessing the Spurs losing their grip and about to fade into Game 7."
• Shaq dunks.
As his dunk is replayed at three different camera angles, viewers miss a 3-pointer made by Bowen in the corner. No replay on that.
• Shaq at the free throw line. He misses.
Walton: "Its truly magnificent how the big guy has improved his free throwing ability."
• Duncan has already earned 32 points and misses one of two freethrows.
Walton: "Duncan is a notoriously bad free thrower, it really hurts his team in the stretch." He ignores that Duncan is MVP and the highest scorer in this game.

Well. I am here to say screw you, Walton.
You can now slither onto the Spurs bandwagon and slobber on them now that your Laker boys have been creamed in their own crib.
As for the Lakers, showtime is over. Shaq has lost a step, Kobe got nervous and you got no bench. Blame the refs, blame Phil Jackson's weak heart, blame it on the bossa nova, but it's over now for the world's most arrogant team.
And Jack Nicholson can stick a sock in it.

Wednesday, May 14, 2003

Newsy Bits

• The San Antonio Spurs beat the Lakers last night 96-94, squandering leads as high as 25 points. No matter, they won, but the last few minutes of the game were so tight they triggered in me a low fat pretzel eating binge and jacked up my morning glucose to 130.
I average about 110. Normal (non-diabetic) is 20-124. I blame the Lakers.
• Texas Democrat legislators ganged up and lammed it to Oklahoma this week to avoid the Republican's attempt to redraw the state's congressional districts in a bold attempt to water down Democratic strongholds.
When the Democrats didn't show up Monday in Austin, House Speaker Tom Craddick ordered Texas Department of Public Safety troopers to find the missing lawmakers, arrest them and bring them back. But on Tuesday, local law enforcement authorities in Oklahoma greeted the Democrats with big smiles and warm handshakes. Yay, Okies.
• Looks like my friend Christie who shot her partner Becky won't be charged. Seems Becky fell off the wagon and was arguing for the car keys to go get more beer. Christie had emptied Becky's gun of bullets at some earlier time, but after punching out Christie for a few minutes, Becky reappeared with another (loaded) gun and said, "Bet you didn't know about this one." Apparently, Christie inadvertently shot Becky when they were wrestling for the second weapon. Self defense. A horrid lesson about guns and alcohol.
• "WASHINGTON (May 5) - The State Department ordered nonessential diplomats and family members out of Saudi Arabia and FBI agents headed to the kingdom after an attack that killed more than two dozen people, including eight Americans." Good to see the war victory in Iraq has made all the al Qaida terrorists and radicals in the region calm down and stop the terrorist attacks. Not.
• LOS ANGELES (Reuters) - John F. Kennedy snorted cocaine with actor Peter Lawford while the two stayed at Frank Sinatra's Palm Springs house in the late 1950s, according to an excerpt from a tell-all book written by Sinatra's former valet." Gee, too bad JFK didn't know Dubya, he could have gotten his coke at the Harvard/Yale volume discount.
• Emily and Jacob are the current favorite baby names in America.

Tuesday, May 13, 2003

Cashing in

I have started the long, drawn out process of spending my birthday gift certificates.
Last night I came home with a great book by Molly Ivins on Dubya's adorable little political career, a CD of Motown classics, a CD of Stan Getz and Joao Gilberto, a book on lesbian astrology and a coffee table book featuring the cows in the San Antonio Cow Parade.
The Ivins book details Dubya's phony military career and how he scored the lowest possible points and still managed to sidestep a 100,000 person waiting list to become a pilot for the Texas Air National Guard.
This particular branch was filled with the sons of Texas congress reps, senator's kids, rich guys' kids and even some negroes. Of course, the negroes were all Dallas Cowboys.
Dubya's daddy was a Houston congressman at the time.
Nobody from this elite branch was ever called into active duty. This was a shelter for rich and famous young men so they could stay out of harm's way under the guise of serving their nation.
'Nuff said.
I still have almost $200 worth of gift certificates to spend. I may have to just haul off and buy a DVD player and start a DVD library.
I am always behind the trends.
I bought a Betamax as my first VCR. I drove a Volvo, then an Audi. I've always used a Macintosh computer. I don't know how to burn CDs. I don't know basic html. I don't know how to unzip zip files.
I do not know how to play in any of the high tech reindeer games.
My girlfriend la is equally clueless about high tech. She knows how to work e-mail and how to get to Pulp Friction, otherwise she's in the same techno darkness as I.
On the plus side, she doesn't like Bush, either. I couldn't be with a big Bush supporter.

Monday, May 12, 2003


My former-ex-now-back-together girlfriend (la) has a sister whose kitty just had babies.
la's getting not one, but two of them. There are five in the litter.
She wants me to go with her to see them as infants.
It's a trick. She wants me to get a new baby for James to torture.
Bart, my older cat would probably like getting James off his back.
I love kittens. I love other people's kittens, like Tracy's at Kitty Central.
I love their little pink tummies and their tiny little triangle ears. I love their itty bitty needle claws and I love it when they get mad and puff up, like they think they are very scary.
I have two cats already. Two furry, layabout male cats who already get by with far too much.
I do not need another cat.
I do not need another cat.
All together, I do not need another cat.
Survivor Amazon:
Jenna, I'll Be Damned!

The impossible has happened. Jenna won.
More on that later, because what's really the issue is this:
What in the hell was with Matthew and Jenna being all over each other at the end?
I can see a little pre-vote hand holding, and maybe a big hug for the winner, but did anyone catch their constant physical contact throughout the entire reunion show?
Melly and I both thought they were *doing it.*
Okay, now for the superficiality portion of this Blog.
Matthew cleans up nice! He was actually very handsome with a haircut and some decent clothes. And Jenna and Heidi both looked great. Now that Jenna has a million, she may not peel it off for Playboy or Hustler, but Heidi's gonna sell a lot of magazines.
As for Heidi, they said her IQ was among the top three in that whole group. She intentionally played that down. Apparently IQ isn't a major factor in the game.
But Jenna. Was that luck, or skill, or what?
Matthew should have chosen Rob to be his second banana. I think he would have gotten the votes had he done so. But like me, Matt probably thought Jenna would never make it.
I'm still no big Jenna fan, but as the youngest female in that crowd of jackals, I have to hand it to her for winning.
Melly took umbrage with my saying Jenna looked really pretty last night. Melly underestimates my shallowness.
After weeks of vitriol, it all boils down to my having to admit...the bitch was good.
But in my heart, Cwisty won.

Sunday, May 11, 2003

Sunday Afternoon

So many tales to tell before the big Spurs/Lakers game starts at 2.
While I was at the grocery store a few minutes ago, I spied a man who was wearing a "Lakers suck" T-shirt, and the "u" in suck was a big SPUR.
I complimented him, got his name and number and I plan to go buy one from him after I get through here. The perfect game apparel!
My recent ex-now-back-together-with-me girlfriend la brought her little kids over to my pad for a few minutes before she had to face mother's day at her spooky sister's house.
This was their first visit (boy 6, girl 9) and thank God my house is filled with all kinds of rocks and gemstones for them to wonder about. I gave them each a cool rock, and I avoided giving their mother the eye in her tank top and shorts I know she wore just to toy with me. So, that went well. I think the kids liked my pad, so they may be coming over soon for pizza and a video. I hope their mommy wears the same outfit.
At the grocery store, I wrote a $20 check for items totaling $7.50.
Then I either lost or forgot to get my change. Maybe it blew out of my pocket on the bike ride home. Maybe a fast dog bit it out of my shorts.
At any rate, I can lose hundreds at a casino, but let me lose $12.50 in change at a grocery store and I'll stew about it for years.
I am so excited about Survivor tonight. Seems so many people are into it.
Yesterday the bag carrier at the grocery store, a middle aged black man, and I talked about it like it was our kinfolk over there in the Amazon. I called the boob twins a couple of skinny white bitches and he threw back his head and laughed from the base of his belly. I just knew he was too polite to say it himself.
I read a recent TV study that broke down popular TV show rankings based on race.
Turns out Survivor made the top ten cut for blacks and whites.
I would love watching Survivor with my black friends because they talk back to the TV so fine. They take no shit, they observe everything and they act like the TV people can hear them.
And they use adjectives like crazy!
"Look at that lazy, no account, no wood gathering, manioc eating, no immunity getting, wide assed, shifty eyed fool."
And I'd just make my eyes big and say, "Mmm hmm."
Happy Mother's Day

I love my mother. She's 90 years old and still going strong, although she likes George W. Bush (because he reminds her of my big brother). She also thinks she still works for the Navy, so senility also factors into her assessment of the Resident.
Anyway, many of my readers are mothers. My own girlfriend la is a great mother. My best friend Anna is another great mother.
To all the mothers out there, thank you for having us. Thank you for rearing us. Thank you for agreeing to be our mothers.
My mother is an expert in malapropism.
Once she said to me, "Oh honey, you're making a mountain out of a molehole."
What funny thing(s) has your mother said to you?

Saturday, May 10, 2003

Survivor Sunday: Final Picks

Who is left:
Who is next to get the ax:
Jenna. Please. Finally, a no brainer.
That leaves three.
Matthew is Rob's compliant prison bitch, so Matt and Rob will vote off Butch.
That leaves two.
The jury hates Rob. The jury wants to perpetrate felonious crimes against Rob.
Rob has it coming.
Matthew never really screwed anyone.
Matthew really made no enemies, and he fished really well.
Matthew will win the one million dollars.
He can trade in that awful red Saturn.
Cats Don't Do This Shit

As I was taking a pleasant bike ride through my neighborhood this morning, I broadened my route and added some new streets.
Barreling down one new street, I was set upon by a smallish, ash gray shaggy mutt who chased me for a block, barking and snapping all the while. The dog's owner stood by and watched with great amusement.
I said, "Get your goddam dog off me" as I rode by. I doubt the owner heard, as I was pedaling at around 30 mph to escape the mangy cur.
I rounded the corner just in time to rouse the attention of a medium tall black mutt and a full size Dalmatian. They formed a V that I had to ride through, then they flanked me on both sides, running like greyhounds.
By then I was just pissed off and yelled, "HEY!" They backed off as my deepest big girl voice echoed off the surrounding houses.
When I first got the Red Streak, a friend said I needed a squirt gun filled with ammonia in case this happened. I laughed it off, thinking there were few unleashed dogs in my hood and how cruel it would be to ammona-ize them in the face.
I am going to get a 40-foot-range super squirter with a back-mounted ammonia tank and a barrel mounted laser site.
There are leash laws in this city. I am going to program Animal Control into my speed dialing. Dogs will be caught! Dogs will go to the dog pokey!
I like dogs, just not when they are chasing me on my bike with their fangs bared and their jaws snapping at me. By the time I get through with these dastardly bike chasers, the whole neighborhood is gonna smell like ammonia.
You don't see cats pulling this kind of shit.
Saturday: Bloggy Breakfast Burrito

• Ugh. I awakened with a stomach ache. Must have been the soybeans. Or the Healthy Choice sugarless ice cream I accidentally ate at 2 a.m. to console myself after the horrid Lakers beat my angelic Spurs. Ow.
• My recent ex/back again girlfriend came by yesterday. It was very nice to see her. We have decided to start seeing each other again on very limited terms. Maybe once a week, maybe less often. No expectations, no commitments, no heavy drama. Heyyy, I hear some lesbian chuckling out there. Oh well, we'll just have to see how it goes.
• I've been tempted to do a postwar recap but I am so disgusted I wouldn't know where to start. We spend billions to go after bad guys and never seem to get them.
For all we know, Bin Laden and Saddam are in a safehouse somewhere, divvying up the billions in American currency Saddam ratholed and planning something that'll make 9/11 look like a liquor store stickup. I have zero faith in the resident's ability to protect us, and full confidence in his ability to alienate us from every ally we've ever counted on.
Barcodie tells me I am "full of shit" regarding my thoughts about Dubya, then he referred me to some Blogger so I can become enlightened. Again, I do not consider other Bloggers to be the final word on world affairs. That he does says more about him than it does me.
Still, a tolerant liberal should allow for dissent. It often serves to illustrate my points far better than I can. :)
• On Sunday, Melly and I are getting together at Chez Zipdrive for the finale of Survivor. She's a lot of fun and great with the side comments. I hope our mutual disdain for Jenna and Rob doesn't explode the TV.
• I have hundreds of dollars worth of bookstore gift certificates to cash in, but I am postponing it so I don't come home with a bunch of sappy "healthy relationship" books instead of some good old fashioned escape reading. Methinks sometimes the best medicine for maintaining healthy relationships is to not think about them.
• James my cat needs a kitty psychotherapist. Last night at 3, he decided he wanted to have a conversation with me. Usually a quick swipe of my arm moves him onto the floor and he gets the hint. Not last night. When I say a conversation, I mean full blast, plaintive meows that remind me of Lassie telling Timmy someone's fallen down the well.
Turns out all the fuzzy little bastard wanted was to have his belly scratched. At 3 a.m.

What's on your plate this weekend?

Friday, May 09, 2003

Survivor: The Lackluster Review

Dateline: San Antonio
Time: 5 minutes before Survivor came on
The phone rings.
Karen Zipdrive: Hello?
Mystery Male Caller: Is this Karen?
KZ: Yes, who is this?
MMC: This is (mumble) calling to thank you for your support
KZ: What support?
MMC: Mumble mumble, Survivor, Christy.
KZ: Wait. You're calling for Christy?
MMC: We read a lot of websites and wanted to call around and thank people for supporting her. She really laughed about you calling her Cwisty.
KZ: Wait. She read my site?
MMC: Well, we give her reports and...
KZ: How did you get my number?
MMC: A Blogger friend of your gav...
KZ: A friend of MINE gave YOU my number???
MMC: Just kidding, this is Robert your prince...

How cool was that? For the record, he sounds like a beautiful man. Too bad we are both queer as hens teeth. Anyway...
• Buh Bye Heidi, and your coke bottle glasses and big teeth caps and fake boobs and galloping zits. See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya.
Please insert your own sophomoric parting shots here.
• Word up to Butch: Even YOU can prevent jungle fires, you little maniac.
• Poor, poor Jenna, first she has to fret about abandoning her mother, whose brain cancer has been a constant annoyance to have to think about, then her Zeta crown and Zeta Tappa Fly jacket was burned in the fire. Then she loses the other half of her brain, Heidi. Wahhh, my mascara is running.
• Watching Matthew and Rob eating all that meat was somewhat beyond disgusting. Watching stinky men eating suspicious meat has to be tops on the lesbian gross-out list.
And what's with the cars the producers give away? I still can't see a Pontiac Aztec on the streets without thinking of Colby back there, sleeping with his mama.
The red Saturn just seemed a bit too red to me.
Loved how Matthew had everyone get in the car to feel the A/C, then kicked all but Rob out 10 seconds later.

I dunno, folks. It's hard to pick a winner from this crowd of mangy mutts, but it's easy to pick the next loser, and I'll do it in haiku form.

Poor skinny Jenna
Bones showing, eyes bulging wide
Back to Pittsburgh, bitch!

Thursday, May 08, 2003

Survivor Afterburn

Stay tuned for the update coming soon.

-Who was the pre-show mystery phone caller who said he was Cwisty's representative, calling to thank me?
-Why they left Jenna and iced Heidi!
-Arson, or just stupidity?
-Those zeta crowns are priceless!
-How many weiners and undercooked chicken?
-Welcome to Saturn, space traveler!

and much, much more!

Well, I won't even hazard a guess this time. My once pristine picking record has been thoroughly shattered in the Amazon.
All the treachery, the double dealing, the lies, the superficiality, the duplicity, the nonsense, the hypocrisy- shit, it feels like I'm watching the Republican National Convention.
In an AOL poll, 77 percent said Cwisty didn't deserve to get voted off.
In the same poll, 37 percent picked Matthew to win, 29 percent picked Butch, 15 percent went with Rob, then 10 percent went for Jenna and 9 percent went for Heidi.
Matthew and Butch are the only ones with any dignity, so they'll probably get the ax.
The rest are devil spawn. Who knows which will be the final weasel?
Ach. I miss Cwisty.
It's all a Blur

I am not the going out to a mixer type.
The locale of last night's mixer was right next door to the Alamodome, where the Spurs used to play, but now they play at the SBC Center, further down the road. Game Two of the NBA playoffs was last night and the place was swamped with Spurs fans waiting to go to the game, mingled with a crowd of dykes.
The crowd was not my cuppa, for the most part. Mullets and pocket T-shirts don't quite get the job done for me. Cris, my ex from 10 years ago looked cute, otherwise all I saw was women who held no interest for me.
Nobody talked much about the Becky/Christie tragedy. Wrong crowd for that, they were A-list dykes and this was a decidedly C-list crowd.
Then Vicki walked in.
She's an old friend, a very cute, feisty lawyer who'd been hooked up for 14 years with a woman named Kim. Kim dumped her in February. Hmmm, I thought.
We ended up hanging out, considering buying some scalped Spurs tickets, then ended up at a little coffee house/restaurant splitting some chickeny pasta and a bottle of good Zinfandel. It was fun catching up with her and we caught a nice buzz.
When I got home, my recent former girlfriend called. She wants to get back together.
I said that sounded like a good idea.
Then Melly called, and we blathered until we were both talking gibberish and had to hang up. We're watching the Survivor grand finale together on Sunday night. That's all there is to it.
This week is turning out pretty damn good.

Wednesday, May 07, 2003

Of Mice and Death and Bikes and Dykes

• Texas in Springtime, where baby field mice get restless in the nest and soon start to skittle around looking for food and shelter. They seemed to like the homes of my pals Elaine and Ruben this season. Both own big, useless dogs.
They each asked with bold sincerity if they could borrow my cat James to come to their houses and do a little freelance work as a mouser.
Horrors! As if I'd loan out my babyboy to go and kill possibly rabid vermin.
The kitty kisses me on the lips! Do I strike anyone as someone who would welcome a little severed baby mousefoot on my lip? For God's sake! Dog people just don't get it.
• The local lesbian community is crackling with shock over the slaying of Becky Odom. Camps are forming. Battle lines are being drawn. My own sister Jan and I may be of different minds about the events that preceded the shooting.
The news media has so far been respectful and non-lurid. San Antonio is a tourist town. No ugly murders on the front page, above the fold. Page Three Metro is what the story got, and I think that was reasonable placement.
• I think my tall girl ego helped select my new bike. A 26 incher is a fine ride, but getting on and off is a little daunting, especially having to clear the tandem baskets in the back. I suspect inner knee bruises will become part of my permanent physiology. That's cool though, my thighs are getting so hard I am thinking come pecan season I'll be able to crack them without using a nutcracker. Biking is very good in the ass and leg departments.
• Tonight is the monthly mixer for professional dykes in town. A friend wanted me to be her wingman, but now that I am single again I may just need my own wingman.
So, I invited my single sister, the world's most perfect lesbian chickbait. We are totally opposite types, so I am thinking she can bird-dog for me and vice versa.
I hate mixers. They make me sweat and I get uneasy in large queer herds.
This mixer will be abuzz with gossip about the murder. My curiosity has trumped the sweat and herd mentality reservations.
I am not looking for anyone new. I am also not not looking.
I don't know what to wear. I don't want to wear business attire because I don't want to send a stuffy message. I don't want to be too casual either, because when people hear "self-employed" they often think "penniless bum."
I think this situation calls for faded jeans, a real expensive white shirt and some soft black leather clog/mules.
Yeah, that's it. I'm all set.

Tuesday, May 06, 2003

Oh, Shit.

"Two Women Shot in Terrell Hill, 1 Dies
A shooting in Terrell Hill has resulted in a death. The shooting happened at a home in the northeast side community a little before 8:00 p.m. Monday. Police say one woman suffered head trauma and was taken to Northeast Baptist Hospital. The other woman was shot in the abdomen and taken to Wilford Hall Medical Center by AirLife, but died shortly after arrival. One of the victims called 911 to report the incident. Investigators report that two women in their 50s lived in the home on Seaford Drive. Police are still investigating the incident. "

The two women were friends of mine. They'd been a couple for at least five years.
The one who died, Becky, was a great artist. She was a master glassworker whose work was absolutely gorgeous.
Here's some of her artwork.
She was a very feisty woman, but her sense of humor and talent made up for her temperament.
Last time I saw Becky was at the grocery store. We had a very upbeat, catch-up conversation and she mentioned she was attending "anger management" courses.
I remember I said, "Damn, Becky, I knew you were a bitch but now you're taking classes to get better at it?" She laughed and so did I. We agreed to get together soon so I could see her most recent work.
The other one, Kristie, was a very nice woman whom I believe held a Ph.D. in political science. She was on the staff of Governor Ann Richards when she was in office and became a professor after George Bush was elected governor.
I remember flirting with her once at a New Year's Eve party. I remember thinking she'd be fun to date if she wasn't partnered up already.
So. Kristie has apparently shot Becky dead. Kristie was said to have a black eye and perhaps a gunshot wound when the cops got there.
Rumors are flying. Self defense has been mentioned.
All I know is, I like both of them and this is one more case of two good people, one bad fight and another senseless death caused when another fucking gun was used in anger.
Muscle vs. Fat and so on

Yesterday was a very physical day for me.
Besides lots of shlepping and running around, I rode my new bike all over the place, then put 30 more minutes on my stationary bike during the last part of the NBA game.
I ate pretty light and drank lots of water.
So, I step on the scale this morning and I'm two pounds heavier. I am telling myself it's new muscle. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Yesterday I was in my driveway tinkering with my new bike.
Across my driveway live my neighbors, a very nice Jehovah's Witness couple and their two grown sons. They all seem very sweet and pious.
Well. While I was tinkering, the sons were home for lunch with some buddies of theirs. The parents were at work.
Oy vey, never have I heard such profanities coming from that house! Apparently the boys have strayed away from the Witness flock. I considered being a tattletale but then I realized it was none of my bidness.

My incoming e-mail has changed. What was once a cesspool of enlarge your penis and meet farm girls and their pets Spam is now a bunch of old fart mail about health and mortgages.
My snail mail was even worse yesterday. Seems AARP sent me an invitation to join. I think an evil friend must have squealed on me turning 50. AARP will have to wait, those geezer stalkers.

It's cloudy outside and it's supposed to hit the mid 90's today. That means humidity, which is far more loathsome than any other weather condition. This is the time of year when the snowbirds get to start snickering at us Southerners because of the heat.
Lakers Must Die

Game One
Round two of the NBA Playoffs
Spurs 87
Lakers 82

Monday, May 05, 2003

Karen Zipdrive: Speed Racer

I knew this would happen.
Today I bought a brand new, lightweight, dual spring suspension, 7-speed, 26 inch bike in metallic cherry red.
I just got back from a high speed, bump taking, car avoiding, corner careening marathon ride all the way to Walgreen's and back.
Man, I was like greased lightning.
I was power shifting, weaving, bobbing, the works. I didn't even bother with my driveway, I just downshifted and rode across the freakin' lawn, like a red streak.
En fuego!
I even wore some black biking shorts, which looked pretty damn good from the ass on down (but the front and side views still need a bit of work).
I bought a gel seat to go over the existing gel seat and a high-end cable lock. Now I have to go find the perfect basket for my grocery store treks.
And I have to WD-40 the rear brake lines because they screech and that's just not cool.
The gears are so well meshed the bike doesn't even tick when it's coasting, it just makes a swishing sound as it slashes through the wind at breakneck speeds.
I don't want to brag, but I think Lance Armstrong might feel a little intimidated if he saw me coming up from behind. The g forces actually make my face tighten as I bear down on the pedals.
Oh, I am fast on my new bike, baby. Today Walgreen's, tomorrow the world.
But first, a nap. :)
Grease is the Word

Yesterday I went to an afternoon croquet party.
Wanting to be proper, my hosts served mint juleps (I passed) and a delightful array of finger sandwiches and other prissy, croquet party fare.
I locked in on the tiny chicken salad finger sandwiches on whole wheat. I probably had four of them because they were so delicious.
They also contained a food I have not luxuriated in for more than seven months. Mayonnaise. Rich, creamy, full fat mayo.
My fat intake now consists primarily of olive oil and whatever fat remains on the leanest cuts of meat. I don't even use canola oil.
But the mayonnaise laced little chicken salad sandwiches were far too good to avoid, and after all, I was depriving myself of a mint julep.
So, this morning I was rather dreading my glucose test. No problem, it was only 112.
But here's what did happen when I awakened.
My face was covered in a thin film of oil. It was enough oil to make me have to use alcohol and cotton balls to remove it. Even my hair was a little oily.
Yes, whatever mayo was included in those four tiny triangles of chicken salad finger sandwiches made enough grease to ooze out of my facial pores the next day.
I imagine a big cheeseburger and fries would grease me up so bad I'd just slide out of bed.

Sunday, May 04, 2003

Wingman Ad

Has anyone seen the beer commercial in homage to the wingman?
We've all been there in a bar or at a party with a friend who needs to meet someone bad and we are there so he/she doesn't look pathetic.
So, he/she meets someone and you have to entertain that person's usually creepy friend while your dog makes time with whomever.
It's called the wingman position and it deserves official recognition.
I've been the wingman many times and I've had others return the courtesy for me.
The ad is genius. I think it's for Budweiser beer.
Watch for it.
Marble Falls

I took a long drive up a country highway yesterday to visit my brother at his new lake house in Marble Falls. The whole family was there, so it was a chance to kill several birds with one tank of gas.
I forgot what a pretty part of Texas that place is in. The whole drive was all about verdant green cedar, mesquite and oak trees and a sea of gorgeous wildflowers. It was nice to get on the open road and drive fast with those colors whizzing by.
Speaking of birds, my brother, sister-in-law, sister and her partner are all birdwatchers. They call it birding now, presumably to sound less nerdy. But there they were, all fanned out with binoculars watching birds land on the feeders.
My mother looked over the assembly of birders from the front porch and said, "All my kids are nerds but you." Ha.
When I got back home, I had arranged to meet my recent ex for coffee at a rustic little coffee house in town.
After several laughs, some reminiscing and some serious talk about What Went Wrong, she maintained that she needed to remain on her own to sort things out, yadda yadda yadda. She said she still loves me, but...well, you know the drill.
Call me crazy, but a breakup farewell that consisted of ten minutes of full length body clinching between our parked vehicles on a dark side road felt a bit contradictory to the final verdict.
Alas, I am not in charge of her emotional ambiguity, so I had to accept her decision and drive home alone late last night with unrequited happy pants.
The most valuable thing I have learned from my recovering AA friends is that when life presents circumstances that cannot be comprehended much less dealt with, it's easiest to just turn it over to God and await directions.
Often the directions are to do nothing, to continue doing what I would have been doing had ___ not happened. So there you have it. Cue up "Limbo Rock."
In other news, I have been making a conscious effort to will my glucose levels down.
With exercise and more weight loss, my metabolism has speeded up and my energy level has increased. This is all well and good but the process of further lowering my weight and glucose levels has been toying with my moods.
This morning I had a blood glucose level of 91. Seventy to 126 is considered non diabetic. The stress of the week had my levels bouncing from 100-170, so my dicey pancreas is mixing me up on all four planes.
Maybe she's right, maybe this is a good time to remain unencumbered.
Or maybe all I need is a good, uncomplicated fuck.

Saturday, May 03, 2003

The Hidden Diary of Catherine Zeta-Jones

Oh, buggar!
Saggy Balls is at me again, so soon after I have whelped yet another dimpled chin pup for the old wanker. If I have to see those quivery, crooked damp lips of his up close once more I shall have to wretch.
The saga continues with the fecking shagfest the media is doing on Saggy and me.
Only in Ameriker would a pic of me smoking a cigarette and downing a pint while holding the baby garner such bleedin' bloody hatred for moi.
It's jealousy. I am the world's favourite and they hate it.
We got one over on those wankers at Hello! magazine for having the nerve to print unflattering photos of me at my wedding. I am proud to have successfully hidden my broad arse from prying eyes thus far and those bastards had to pay.
Saggy Balls and I spent the money on soundproofing the children's wing. The nannies can deal with the incessant wailing of the Douglas dingoes, I've done my part.
Oh, rot.
Saggy Balls tells me the in-laws are coming over again. How I loathe the thought of Kirk eyeing my breasts again and pretending his cold stare is stroke related. I swear if I see one more dimpled chin male coming at me, I'll sue them for harassment and I'll win.
Must dash now, I'm due for a foot massage and my liposuction doc is coming 'round this afternoon.
It's so hard being fabulous moi.

Friday, May 02, 2003

Go Bush Go!

"WASHINGTON (May 2) - The nation's unemployment rate swelled to 6 percent in April, returning to an eight-year high as employers slashed payrolls even deeper. The ailing economy has lost a half million jobs in three months..."

Dubya's daddy jacked up unemployment as high as 7.8 percent during his reign of incompetence.
I think Dubya has plenty of time to beat daddy's record. I have faith in him.
Anna Anna Fabulous Anna

No, not Anna Nicole Smith, Anna my best friend.
Not only did she find time to throw my party, she's on her way back to Ethiopia to do more charitable work.
She's not even affiliated with a formal charity, she just flies over there and looks around and starts helping however she can.
In just a few years she's become buddy buddy with the Prime Minister, some major tribal chiefs, cabinet ministers and other Addis Ababa Bigwigs. When she sends out mass e-mails, I had to learn not to reply to the whole list because even I know it's tasteless to use the fuck word around the prime fucking minister of a country.
So far she's set up the Addis Ababa medical school with two computer labs that link the doctors there to global medical information that will save untold lives, she's established a training program for social workers, started up AIDS education program, and drug and alcohol treatment programs.
She also helped out an entire laid-off staff of 22 convention center employees by funding a restaurant they now own and operate quite successfully.
When 22 people in Ethiopia have jobs, their income helps support maybe 220 more people in their families who would otherwise starve to death. And I mean that literally.

She's in the baby steps of starting a Blog that I hope will be about her work in Ethie and the other cool stuff she gets into.
Melly has offered to help her install all the extra bells and whistles we all like to have, stuff like comments, counters, turn signals and shiny bright Bloggy doodads.
Melly, how's that going?
Once she gets set up, I will make a big to-do about it so you guys can get to know her.

After that cowboy/total stranger at my birthday party pressed a ten dollar bill into my hand, someone at the table said, "Now you have to pay it forward."
Anna kind of exemplifies that.
Sure, she drives a Benz, but it does have a crudely silk screened "I heart Ethiopia" bumper sticker on the back. She also has a babyseat in the back seat to transport Andrei, the little boy she and her husband Brad adopted from an orphanage in Romania.
She may be wearing Prada shoes, but that's Ethiopian mud and cow shit on the soles of them.
She and Brad make a lot of dough, but they use most of it for the good of people all over the world. Brad's just as righteous as she is.
She walks it but doesn't talk it much. That's the best part.
Too bad she cheats like a mangy dog in Scrabble, otherwise she'd be a fucking saint.
A Blogger's Quiz

1. The yard needs mowing and watering. What do you do?
a) go mow and water it
b) hire a neighborhood kid to do both
c) Blog about it
2. It's already the second of the month and there are bills to pay. What do you do?
a) write out the checks and send them
b) go to the post office and get stamps
c) Blog about it
3. It's time for lunch. What do you do?
a) make a nutritious meal
b) go out for a nice salad and some whole grain toast
c) Blog about it
4. You need exercise and fresh air to feel healthy. What do you do?
a) go ride your bike around for 30 minutes or so
b) walk to the store to pick up some healthy lunch items
c) Blog about it
5. You have a paycheck that needs depositing. What do you do?
a) go to the bank and make the deposit
b) pay bills, make the deposit, go to the post office to buy stamps and mail the bills
c) Blog about it
6. It's Friday afternoon and you have the evening free. What do you do?
a) make plans with a good friend to do something
b) beg the woman who dumped you to come over and have sex with you
c) Blog about it
7. You have hundreds of dollars worth of gift certificates for Borders, Barnes & Nobel's and Best Buy. What do you do?
a) go shopping
b) go to to get some ideas
c) Blog about it
8. You are leaving town tomorrow to visit your family. What do you do?
a) pack and start to get ready
b) gas up the car and wash it
c) Blog about it
9. It's getting hot in your office. What do you do?
a) turn on the air conditioner
b) change into cooler clothes
c) Blog about it
10. You feel guilty about being on the computer wasting time. What do you do?
a) log off and get something done
b) check your Blog for new comments
c) Blog about it

If you answered c to every question, you are a fascinating person who's willing to share her vitality with others all around the world.
Blog Salad™

So many things to say with no cohesion whatsoever...
• I started reading "Pigs at the Trough" by Arianna Huffington last night. It's about CEO corporate greed, how politicians cover for these bastards* and why they are ruining our economy.
If you dislike the GOP and are leery of the latest breed of wussy Democrats, this is the one book you'll need to light the fuse. Huffington's writing is hilarious, so it's not like an economics 101 textbook. Please hurry and get it.
*CEO Martha Stewart was the only bitch mentioned.
• After reading another of my birthday books, "Tell me what to eat if I have diabetes" I was so freaked out about fiber I had an apple and oatmeal for dinner last night. My glucose level was 102 this morning- which is really good. Fiber is a very good thing. Go eat some today.
• This morning after my shower I donned a fresh white T-shirt from Ogunquit, Maine with little lobsters sewn in across the chest. I wondered why I'd never worn it much and now I recall. It has asbestos threads woven into the cotton and I feel like I am being itched to death. It's sort of a modern day hair shirt. I'd use it as a dust rag but I'm afraid it would abrade wood.
• I got the classic CD "For the Roses" by Joni Mitchell from my pal Carol. I'd forgotten what a masterpiece it was but listening to it again was like being transported to a cool, breezy spot. I think it's my favorite Joni Mitchell album.
• I am still smarting about last night's Survivor. There is no justice.
• Bush landing in a fighter jet on the deck of the USS Lincoln to announce the end of the war was a brilliant plan. Made him look sort of commander in chiefish, considering he was an AWOL reservist in his day. Still, the American public will forget all about it by election time and instead will notice that the economy is in ruins. May 43 meet the fate of 41 and be vanquished to his "ranch" in Crawford, and may his Residential Liberry be filled with all of his coloring books.
• What the fuck happened to Dennis Miller? I watched his special on HBO and he's totally pandering to the right wing and the GOP now. They needed someone with genuine wit and intelligence on their side, but I wish it wasn't him. Still, the King of Run-on Sentences was rather funny in some spots. He's definitely jumped the old fart shark, though.

Thursday, May 01, 2003

I Feel Eviscerated

Survivor is rigged.
Those imbeciles and lemmings voted off the brave, hardworking, earnest Cwisty.
Have they no sense? Have they no decency?
Why is Rob still allowed to breathe?
Are Heidi and Jenna Satan's gogo girls?
Are Butch and Matthew Rob's prison bitches?
When a man spits on his hand and shakes mine, his word is his bond.
I spit on the frightening Speedos worn by Rob the Snake.
And what's with Matthew's mom? Could she be any spookier? The acorn didn't fall far from THAT fuckin' tree.
Then to top it off, right after the show ended here comes Bush, doing one of his classic slow motion speeches.
Eviscerated, I tell you. That was my TV experience tonight.
Survivor Picks!

I got on a Survivor mailing list, hoping to garner some insight so that I could start picking more accurately. Read what they said:

-- Matthew makes an incredible sacrifice so that others can be given the opportunity of a lifetime. But the newfound respect Matthew enjoys makes Rob rethink his new alliance.

-- Still stung by Rob's betrayal of the alliance, an enraged Jenna tells the entire tribe about Rob's secret plans, revealing his strategies to everyone. Will Jenna's revelations turn the tribe against Rob?

-- Feeling ostracized and betrayed, Jenna and Heidi refuse to help out around camp. Will this put the final nails in their coffins?

1. I wonder what Matthew sacrificed? He strikes me as a masochistic type, maybe he gave up a foot or a hand.
2. Jenna's got some nerve bitching about loyalty, but Rob has been a conniving little weasel and even Jenna would be credible delivering that news.
3. Jenna and Heidi have NEVER helped out around camp. Why start now?

If this crowd is smart, they will oust Rob next. After that, Jenna and Heidi will be picked off one by one. I think Jenna deserves the boot first, then Heidi.
But Rob's gotta go. I pick him to be the next one voted off.
Who do you pick?
There's Got to be a Morning After

The good news is my morning glucose was 105 (normal humans range from 70 to 124) so I didn't actually harm myself during last night's rabble rousing.
We had a very nice turnout at the restaurant, with about 25 or 30 good friends from all walks of my life. The margaritas were flying.
Melly made an entrance, which caught the eye of everyone there. We met for the first time and it was like we'd already known each other several hours. My friends were looking at me like I was an old lecher, which was the exact effect I was striving for.
She's one of those tall, cute girls but fortunately not Jenna and Heidi's type of cute. She'd probably hang out with Cwisty. Melly's very quick with the wisecracks and held her own with the drunks that followed us home after dinner.
Man, did I get some great gifts. I got books on politics, books on diabetes and enough gift certificates to buy books, CD's and videos for the rest of the year. We're talking like $400 worth of shopping possibilities.
In the midst of opening the gifts, a total stranger (sort of a cowboy/construction worker type) came up to me and pressed a ten dollar bill into my hand and said happy birthday. How cool was that?
I offered Trish my computer tech the ten to update my browser. She deferred.
I offered Melly the tenner to dance for us. She declined.
For some reason, once we got to my house, nobody wanted much to do with the sugar free strawberry-strewn angelfood cake. We did however want a lot to do with the magnum of champagne and another party favor I will refrain from mentioning, except to say Woody Harrelson, Cheech AND Chong would have been pleased.
Champagne is low in carbos, so I was able to indulge in quite a bit of it. I ended up giving an impromptu shoe fashion show, which went over as well as can be expected.
I called my recent ex girlfriend that afternoon, hoping to extend an olive branch and invite her to the party. I never knew ice crystals could actually form on the earpiece of a telephone. Suffice it to say, she did not show up. Methinks that chapter is sealed shut for eternity.
What really struck me was who *was* there. I am one lucky crone to have friends and family like them.
Fifty started out really well. I think I'm going to like it.
(Thanks to all who showed up, especially Anna who planned the whole thing. I love you guys)

P.S. Grey Bird gave me my own domain, Karen!
All I have to do now is figure out what to do with it! xox