Tuesday, December 31, 2002

Our New Year's Eve Decadence

We had a snacky kind of lunch today at the Tip Top Cafe, which consisted of an order of onion rings we split.
Dinner is at 10 p.m. tonight at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse.
We figured 10 p.m. was a suitably decadent time to eat dinner, and we won't have to wonder whether we'll be able to stay awake until midnight, since we'll be out already.
We ran into a friend of mine who owns a B & B downtown, and she invited us to watch the midnight fireworks off her rooftop, but I ain't driving downtown with 200,000 drunk sons of bitches down there raising hell in their souped-up jalopies and SUV's.
I figure around midnight we'll be finishing up a glass of port or some other beverage I am not supposed to have instead of running the streets like a bunch of 20-something ne'er-do-wells.
Yes, I am old and starting to sound crotchety. This Canuck is running me ragged with her youthful enthusiasm and vigor. In fact, I am going to go take a nap now.
Happy New Year again, y'all.
Happy New Year!

We are back from the coast where we had a wonderful time.
I refused to wear sunscreen, saying the winter sun wouldn't burn me. I was mistaken. She, however, is golden brown and looks like an ad for a tropical resort.
We ran the gamut of weather conditions, but overall the beach conditions were close to perfect. They certainly compensated for the big, fat speeding ticket Officer Bubba slapped me with in George West, Texas on the way down there. Now I gotta take those stupid classes to avoid a jillion dollar fine. Eighty-four in a 70 mile zone. Big fucking deal.

On a jaunty little three-hour beach hike, Aviva went in the water and removed her bathing suit, waving it in the air for my edification.
I, being the freezing, shivering, fully clothed chicken shit I am, did not rise to the challenge and go in and get her. She remained a good sport however and emerged from the water topless, so there was that.
We went to Matamoros, Mexico on the way home yesterday. Aviva had been to resort towns in Mexico, but never a border town, and her delicate Canadian sensibilities were assaulted visually, audibly and olifactorily.
The men undressed her and repositioned her with their leering eyes. One scoundrel actually offered her beer or bottled water as we shopped in his dubiously authentic jewelry shop. He called me señor, the prick, and I got no such beverage offer.
I am used to walking with her and having both sexes leer at her, but in Mexico they actually licked their lips and drooled like mangy curs watching a juicy T-bone walk by.
Two hours of mercado shopping and we left, empty handed. Not even a bottle of Kahlua or tequila did we buy. She had nasty eye prints all over her.
On the long wait to get back over the international bridge, blind guys, beggars and junk salesmen threaded their way between lanes of traffic, surrounding us like magpies. I noticed smoke billowing up from my rear window interior brake light housing and had to stage a daring daylight rescue- taking Aviva's bottled water and pouring it into the housing. I heard a loud pop and the smoke stopped. The brake light exploded. But we averted a vehicle fire, so that was nice.
Somewhere near Corpus Christi, the skies turned an ominous shade of black and we found ourselves driving through torrential rains and hail. The only thing to do in such cases is keep moving, so we did.
My morning frijoles by then were percolating in my intestines like nuclear warheads, and I drove home slightly standing to avoid any pesky explosions.
We went for margaritas and tacos before we got to my house.
Then the next thing I knew I was awake, and it was today.
Happy New Year to everyone. We have no firm plans yet.

Saturday, December 28, 2002

Off to the Beach

Saturday morning. We are going to the beach where the temps are in the high 70's and there's a sugarless no alcohol low carb piña colada waiting for me (and something stronger waiting for her).
We had a little cocktail party last night. Ow.
Now it's time to pack and get on the road for South Padre Island.

Thursday, December 26, 2002

Thursday After Christmas

So far so good. We are having an amazing time.
Christmas Day was quiet and nice.
She gave me the most incredible, museum quality Inuit carved serpentine statue and some other very nice gifts.
Last night for dinner we had a bottle of Chassagne Montrachet, pecan crusted Chilean sea bass, six different kinds of mushrooms sauteed in olive oil and vermouth, and a salad of field greens with pomegranate seeds, sea beans and avocado in a mango vinaigrette.
Yesterday afternoon we scored some bean and chicken tamales, and Aviva was able to experience the apex of Tex Mex Christmas cuisine.
She likes Texas.
My cats' fur is making her crazy.
She got me a dish drainer.
I let her drive my car to Walgreen's.
We ate on the Riverwalk the other night and a storm blew through while we were there.
We have seen about 8 Cow Parade cows scattered throughout town.
Today we are going to the Alamo, and out for margaritas tonight.
She met my mother the other day. Mama liked her and asked if she'd moved in with me.
Time is zooming by.
I don't want her to leave.

Sunday, December 22, 2002


I had a wonderful time last night seeing my ex Cris and her brother Brett who lives in Portland. He's very funny and she is too, except her humor is dry and his is- what's the other side of dry, wet?
Anyway, Brett hates my haiku blogs so...

Poor Brett from Portland
Sorry you hate my haiku
Beats a soiled tampon

Anyway, Aviva is enroute, so I must make some last minute preparations.
Methinks my blog entries may thin out for a few weeks.
She hates for me to get too personal about our business, so if you see me posting this emoticon
just know that everything is peachy in the personal department.

Saturday, December 21, 2002

One More Day

Oy vey! Aviva's coming to town in about 33 hours.
Everything's come together pretty well, and I am ready for our vacation to start.
All I have left to do is vacuum. That sounds easy, but with two cats and a no-allergy-having person who hates to vacuum regularly, we are talking an ordeal of epic proportions.
James has been sneaking toys out of his basket and hiding them in every corner of every room. He favors the little cloth mice that might easily be sucked up in my 500-pound Kirby heavy duty Suck-o-Matic.
I know he's doing it on purpose.
He knows something's up.
He's like a jealous lover on a Mexican novella soap opera. He keeps glaring at me like I have wronged him. Fortunately, James is not a vindictive kitty. So far.
He will first try to charm Aviva with his adorable post-toddler antics, but if she doesn't take the bait, he'll just hide and pout instead of peeing in her shoes or suitcases. He may also puke for effect.
My old cat Bart doesn't care what I do or with whom I do it. As long as there's food in his dish and a sunny or warm spot to nap in, Bart is totally cool.
Tonight I am going to sequester both kitties in their bedroom, so they won't blame Aviva. Bart will be fine but the baby will be horrid, I just know it.
James will try to wrestle Bart all night, Bart will get fed-up and slap him around a little, James will cry real loud and bite Bart's neck, then Bart will pounce on James and pin him to the floor with his Virginia ham-sized torso. If I could just train Bart to keep him pinned all night, my life would be easier.
Ahh, I don't care. All I know is, my Christmas is fixin' to get a whole lot merrier in about 32 and a half hours.

Friday, December 20, 2002

Trent Lott Resigns Leadership Spot

A racist Republican? Whhaat?
The dude's white, Republican and from Mississippi. What were they expecting, Dianne Finestein? Of course he's gonna slip if he goes off script and speaks from his heart, which as we all know by now is lily white.
This is as silly as the GOP convention, where they brought in more black acts than a Motown Review.
Look at the fucking legislation over the last 100 years. The last decent Republican vis a vis racial equality was Abraham Lincoln.
Anyone who feigns shock at Trent Lott showing his true colors is either naive, delusional or just dumb as hell.
Do I think he should have stepped down from his senate majority spot?
No! I didn't think he was anything but what he was anyway, one more white boy wanting to keep the nigras and uppity wimmen in their places.
They'll just replace him with another GOP wasp male who hasn't yet made an accidental racist remark. At least we knew Lott was likely a racist bastard.
Now we'll just have to deal with another stealth honky.

Last night I called Aviva to discuss the end of Survivor.
It was late so we didn't stay on long.
After we hung up, I tried to read a little in bed, but the jackass neighbor across the street and two houses east had his Tejano music on so loud it was vibrating my windows.
I laid there doing a slow burn until 11:45, then I dialed 911 to make a disturbing the peace complaint.
This morning I awakened early, and since it's an hour later in Montreal, I called to say good morning to A.
I speed dialed but the phone didn't make the connection so I punched in her number.
We spoke briefly, but as we spoke I heard the call waiting beep. I didn't answer it because there's no reason for anyone but her to call me before 6 a.m.
After we spoke I turned off the bedside lamp and planned to catch a few more Z's.
As I lay there, I saw a bright flash through the living room window. I still had electricity, so I ignored it and closed my eyes. Then there was a loud rap at the door.
I went to the front door and asked who it was.
"Police Officer."
I opened the door and there stood a cute little cop.
Seems I had speed dialed 911, they had tried to call me back and when they got no answer...well, you get the picture.
So now I am awake and this is how my day started.

Thursday, December 19, 2002

Festive Survivor Haiku: An Overview

Rev. John: first to go
The pastor was too bossy
Heathens booted him

Jed, Dallas Dentist
Thought a whole lot of himself
The others did not

Robb, the cocky prick
Tried for last-stand sympathy
He's back bartending

Ken the Brooklyn cop
Such a pretty face and bod
Wrong tribe, poor fella

Jake the Texan guy
Chose brawn not brains for his tribe
The weak tribe killed him

Ted the rump humper
Won a truck but failed to kiss
Brian's silly ass

Clay, what can I say?
The mystery is, how did
he stay for so long?

That leaves sweet Brian
Shifty as a car salesman
He's favored to win

Tanya, poor dumb thang
So beautiful Tanya was
But dumb as a post

Brusque Stephanie Dill
Didn't play well with others
So they kicked her off

Shii Ann, such a mouth
Kissed the wrong asses too soon
Benedict Arnold

Erin, I miss you
Those giant fake bazoongas
and that nice, tight ass

Penny, evil one
Face glowed like Satan at night
Very bad mojo

Ghandia, the Diva
Teased Ted's big black boner
Then said she didn't

Jan, still in the game
Why, I can't begin to guess
Must be that fine ass

Helen, my fav'rite
Balls of steel, yet sorta sweet
Let's hope they choose her
My Ultimate Survivor Picks

Fourth Place: Jan
Third Place: Clay
Second Place: Brian
and the winner is:

Let's hope I am right. :)

Wednesday, December 18, 2002

Speaking of Haiku...

I forgot that I do haiku when I've nothing much to say. Therefore...

Winter is here now
I have to wear thick T-shirts
And long pants, as well

My kitties are bored
They gallop wild through the house
Like tiny Clydesdales

Drizzling outside now
I have a brand new roof though
Drizzle, bust a move!

Aviva, my love
Four days left to wait for her
Patience really sucks

So much left to do
Yet here I sit, blogging stuff
And drinking coffee

The kitties shed fur
And Aviva's allergic
Time to vacuum them

Come here, little James
Let Mama Hoover your fur
HEY! Don't hiss at me

Bart! Here, kitty boy
Let Mama Hoover you too
Oh no! My cat puked

Tuesday, December 17, 2002

I Got a Survivor Jones

Four days until A. gets here and the one thing keeping me composed is the thought of Survivor's last episode, which will be on from 7-10 p.m. central, this Thursday on CBS.
I am thinking the reunion show could have a catfight or two.
Between Ghandia, that pissy little Dallas dental student Jed and that infantile Palooka Robb, I think resentments may run high.
I'll be eyeing Brain's nose carefully.
And Jan, I wonder if she'll clean up pretty good...
Is that a Texas phrase, "You clean up pretty good?"
I forget what's national and what's Texas.
Does everyone get 400+ pickup truck ads on TV per day?
Is every month "truck month" in your state or province?
Do they have a lot of ads for steak sauce?
My nephew (14) went to Montreal last summer on a class trip with his Austin schoolmates. First thing he said when he got back was, "There are no pickup trucks there."
Hmm. First thing I noticed in Montreal (besides her) was all the Persian and Iraqi cab drivers. I didn't notice any pickups either, now that I think of it.
But, I digress.
Anyway, I haven't picked a winner quite yet. I'll announce my pick on Thursday.
Your assignment is to pick out a potential catfight on the reunion show and write a haiku or two about it on my BlogBack™.

Ted glares at Ghandi
"Yo, diva, did you notice
I got a new truck?"
The Charmaine and Brian Heidik Story

Hidden microphones in the Heidik household have revealed what happened before Brian took that violent punch to the nose from his buxom bride:

Brian: Honey, I'm home!
Charmaine: Did you win?
B: Uhh, no. I came in third.
C: But I wanted that money!!
B: I know dumpling, but that Helen and Clay outfoxed me!
C: Fuck that shit- you promised me a million dollars!
B: I know, precious, but...
C: But nothing! I need collagen! I need my implants enlarged! I need lipo! The poodle needs grooming! Our little son whatshisname needs, oh I don't know, baby toys or some fucking shit!
B: But you have that white Cadillac, darling!
C: It was used when I got it, you loser!
B: Well, we can get you a later model. We have a '96 on the lot- real sharp!
B: I'm sorry, sugar baby!
C: And look at you! You're too skinny to get any movie jobs! Your nose looks like a pelican beak with that skinny face!
B: Oh but baby, you can do another movie so we can afford all those...
C: Shut up, Pelican Beak!
B: But, but, but!
Charmaine then punches Brian in the nose. BAM!
B: You hit me! I'm... I'm bleeding!
C: Shut up!
B: I'm calling the cops!
C: Go ahead, you used car selling, no-surviving loser!
B: Hello 9-1-1? This is Nicole Simpson. I think you know my husband's record...

Monday, December 16, 2002

The Cocktail Party

When Aviva gets here, we are planning a very small cocktail party so she can meet some of my closest friends.
We've been going around and around trying to decide what to serve and we've finally come up with a theme. Please add any snacks we've missed.

-Hors D'ourves Porcupine
Wrap a grapefruit in foil, set on plate and spear with Vienna sausage chunks, Velveeta squares, rolled up cold cuts and green olives with pimentos. Garnish with parsley.
-Chex Mix
-Frito Pie in individual Frito bags
-Rack of Spam
-Spray on Cheeze with Ritz crackers
-Jell-O Mold
-Fruit cocktail, mandarin orange and Cool Whip ambrosia
-Whitman's sampler chocolates
-Celery and peanut butter
-Moon Pies and Little Debbie snack cakes
-Rice Krispie treats with holiday red and green M&Ms
-Tuna Surprise Casserole with mushroom soup and crushed potato chips
-Melted Velveeta and Ro-Tel tomatoes served with tortilla chips.

-Boxed White Zinfandel wine
-Lone Star beer
-Assorted Shasta sodas
A More Interesting Blog?

All right you complainers, here's perhaps a more interesting blog for you, filled with pathos, angst and drama.
• My best friend Anna may move to Fair Oaks, which is about 25 miles from me instead of 4 miles. She is not an outdoorsy type, but they are looking at a 7-acre spread. Think Lisa on "Green Acres" and you have Anna, as far as luxury and pampering go.
I can just see her, in her Gucci leather mules and St. John knits out there swatting scorpions off her leg.
I think she just wants to move there to be closer to Nordstrom's.
Her little boy Andrei fell and cut his chin the other day. Four stitches. He's potentially gay, so that may mess up any plans he may have had for a career in the drag queen industry.
• I finally found jeans that fit my disproportionately skinny legs, but I am horrified at the brand. Wranglers. I consider them the choice of the country music loving mobile home set, but I don't care. All I know is Old Navy jeans could fit someone with elephantiasis in their legs.
• Today at the grocery store I saw frogs legs for sale. I have never tried them, but then I have never eaten a cat turd either, but I don't have to eat one to know it would be disgusting. Why stop at their legs? Why not eat the rest of them too?
• I found out that my next door neighbor is a Class A scrounger. Before I throw anything away, I ask her if she wants it and she always does. Yesterday I gave her about 40 old fucked up T-shirts. She was delighted.
• Okay this blog wasn't that much better than the last few, but fuck it. For the price you can't go wrong. Besides, I have to go grout some things in the bathroom.

Sunday, December 15, 2002

Sunday Bloggy Sunday

Last night on HBO I heard they were going to rerun the entire season of the Sopranos the two weeks Aviva will be here. I wish I could hire a stooge to tape all the episodes for me. I can't be bothered trying to remember how to do it every time.
When CD burning first got hot, I bought a Sony burner for my iMac. I never could get the damn thing to work, so I ended up selling it to a friend in Michigan who ended up selling it to a mutual friend in Houston. I just can't get a handle on recording tapes, videos or CDs.
Another thing I don't understand is carpentry.
I have great hand to eye coordination and manual dexterity. I can sculpt a life sized gnat. I can draw perfect renderings of people or things. I just can't get wood and nails to go together.
Does that make me a bad lesbian?
I feel like I should be handier around the house but the fact is, if it has to do with electricity, plumbing or carpentry I am clueless. All I can do is paint and maybe spackle a bit if I'm pushed.
Okay, I'll admit it. I have nothing to talk about.
But people expect a daily blog and here it is.

Saturday, December 14, 2002

Thanks, God

Ahhh, such bliss. A brand new, perfect roof in a nice shade of sage green, clothes spinning in the dryer, a furnace that works and a beautiful woman who's coming to see me in 8 days.
The heating guy of course told me I needed a new unit but I told him just find out what's wrong with this one and fix it. So he cleaned it up, it worked fine and I got out for only $45.
Alas, he was not so lucky. As he went to leave, his van's drive shaft fell out. Yes, it fell out with a thud on the street below. Poor guy was stuck in front of my house waiting to be towed for five hours. He declined my offer to come in and watch ESPN, but I did give him some bottled water, fruit, an energy bar and some almonds. He was a nice guy and he smelled good, like spray starch.
The roofing guy was nice, too. I have convinced him he needs a logo, a brochure and a corporate identity, along with exterior signage and a few other tidbits. The cost should run- oh, about the same as the roof cost me. :)
Today I have to venture out and forage for goods. I have to go to Borders to get my main client a gift certificate and myself a Scrabble Player's dictionary, since Aviva's coming and she's addicted to kicking my ass at the game. In the 50 or so games we've played online, I have won exactly two of them.
The weather today is simply gorgeous. It's a bright, sunny day with temperatures expected to climb into the lower 70's. It'll be a great car detailing day.
So that's my haircut blog for today.
Enjoy your day, and be careful out there.

Friday, December 13, 2002

From The Smoking Gun.com

Despite snakes, monsoons, and food-stealing monkeys, the beach where CBS's "Survivor: Thailand" was filmed may have been safer than the California home of one of the reality TV show's final five contestants. That's because the wife of castaway Brian Heidik was arrested last month and charged with spousal abuse. Charmaine Heidik was busted by cops on November 17 following an altercation in the couple's suburban Los Angeles home, according to police and the below misdemeanor criminal complaint. The 30-year-old woman, who spent two days in prison before being released on her own recognizance, allegedly punched her husband in the nose. A bloodied Heidik then called 911, but he refused medical treatment when officers arrived. At her arraignment last month, Charmaine Heidik was ordered to stay at least 100 yards away from her 34-year-old husband and to not "own, use or possess any dangerous or deadly weapons." A Superior Court judge also granted Charmaine a one-time visit---in the company of a sheriff's deputy--to her former Quartz Hill residence to pick up belongings. Charmaine, who, like her husband, has starred in a variety of soft-core pornos, made an appearance on last Thursday's (12/5) episode of "Survivor," which was taped five months ago. She was one of several family members allowed a brief on-camera reunion with their contestant-relatives. Heidik, whose trial is scheduled for December 16, faces a maximum of a year in jail if she's convicted of the corporal injury to spouse charge.

Thursday, December 12, 2002

At the Grocery Store

Now that I am limited in what I can eat, I shop for fish at this very snazzy place because their selection is amazing. Tonight I got Chilean sea bass, albacore and some gorgeous gulf shrimp. If you haven't had Chilean sea bass, rush to get some, it's the most elegant, delicate, buttery fish you can ever hope to taste.
Meanwhile, across the aisle was a well-known lesbian socialite I know who will go nameless.
This woman is heiress to a zillion dollar fortune, from an old Texas ranching family. Their ranch and Rhode Island are about the same size. Their ranch house has been featured on America's Castles. They are richer than everyone in Texas.
She's an eccentric type. She takes her own special pasta to restaurants and has them cook it for her. So, I know she's a very fussy eater.
Well, I spied her looking at the frozen exotic meat section and what does she ask for? Duck.
She won't eat the pasta from a 5-star restaurant, but she'll eat something that could have come waddling out of the San Antonio River.
Duck sucks. I don't care if it's Peking duck, duck l'orange, roasted duck, duck salad or duck burgers, duck is horrible, dark and greasy.
Ducks are nasty creatures. They crap about every 30 seconds, and they bite.
Their quack is not attractive, and the only cute duck is a baby duck.
But she wanted a big, dead duck. To eat.
Duck. Yuck.
Survivor: The Perfect Pick

What is Santa bringing me for Christmas?
He's booting Clay the smarmy ferret off the island tonight.
He's got to.
Clay, the shiftless, layabout ASSman.
Clay, the cornpone Louisiana hayseed with an accent like a buzzsaw on concrete.
Clay, the backstabber.
Clay, the no-water getting, napping slacker.
Other than Jan, her unsightly ass and her peculiar death rituals, I see no other option. Okay, well, Ted is a loser but he's got a better disposition than Clay, the little bitch.
I see Helen as the architect of Clay's ouster. I see Brian in collusion.
Tonight's the night and Clay's the pigeon.
Oh yeah, baby.
Oy Freakin' Vey

Yesterday my brother Billy and I worked for 7 hours trying to untangle the mystery of 220 wiring. It turns out Robert, my dearly departed handyman, had jerry rigged the ground wire to the left thing and the left thing to the ground wire hole and the leaky roof may or may not have caused some contacts in the breaker box to foul or something.
All I know is, we had to go to two electrical stores (talk about boring shopping) and get two plug-in circuit things that cost me 69 fuckin' bucks.
We also had to switch some things around so the 220 for the air conditioner is now the 220 for the dryer, so come summer I'll have to get everything re-re-wired. But my dryer works, and that's all I wanted.
After all that manual labor all day, I was exhausted and dazed. My brother has the stamina of a pack mule.
That evening, the weather started getting chilly and my heater was not coming on. I turned the thermostat higher and it still didn't kick in, all night. The pilot light is on, but something between that and the thermostat doesn't work anymore.
Oh goody, another service call.
Meanwhile, the roofers are slated to come tomorrow and of course we are having a torrential rainstorm today.
James the Sensitive One is apparently afraid of men now, because when Billy arrived first he started hiding, then he emerged and started puking. He puked on the kitchen floor and Billy walked right through it. Men are far less aware of what they do to freshly mopped kitchen floors.
So let's review. This month: new electrical work, new roof, new radiator on my car, property tax bill and Mom's retirement home relocation costs. Add to that the cost of a new mouse for my computer, whatever the heater costs to fix and I have basically blown around $3,800, all in one month. Ouch.
After all that, I still feel great.
Aviva will be here in 10 days, and I won't remember a thing about the rest of this month.

Wednesday, December 11, 2002

Ai yi yi!

In 11 days Aviva will be here and I am starting to get my biggest ducks in a row.
My big brother is coming down from Austin today to fix my pesky 220 wiring and that means I'll get to be his assistant.
I have selected the perfect hardware store outfit and shoes so I can swagger around the hardware store, acting like I know what I'm doing. Bro will pick something out and I'll say, "Yep, that looks about right to me."
Then on Friday, the roofers will be here to start ripping off old shingles and putting on a new roof. Nothing like a crew of four neanderthals pounding on the roof all day to make for a productive workday.
I bought new hypoallergenic pillows because down feathers make Aviva sneeze and talk like Lisa Loopner from SNL. I tried one out last night and it was like sleeping on a bag of cement. That won't do.

In the news this morning, I see the U.S. has finally come out and said it to Iraq, "You use chemical weapons (gas) on us and we will nuke you."
While I hate the thought of going to war, I think this bold threat might help remind that clown Saddam that we are the biggest bad ass country on earth and we can level his crappy little state if we are pushed.
I'd much rather see the U.S. rattle their sabres than use them.
Yesterday on the news I saw a feature on teachers in Saudi Arabia, adult males teaching young males. They tell their students that Al Qaida is a noble organization and that the United States is evil.
Some of their textbooks even say that Jews must be killed and Israel must be eradicated. This is coming from our "ally" Saudi Arabia.
Saudi government officials waffled and claimed that these teachers and textbooks are not the norm. Bullshit. The Saudi government segregates classrooms so only the boys receive the bulk of the education. They force women to cover themselves like mummies and allow gay people to be stoned to death. Are we to believe they don't have any control over curriculum? Please.

Tuesday, December 10, 2002

Cracker Barrel

Those right wing, religious fundamentalist puppet/crackers at Cracker Barrel restaurant have finally dropped their homophobic stance on gay employees, and have instituted a policy that prohibits discrimination toward their gay and lesbian employees.
I have never been to a Cracker Barrel because I never saw the point of spending my queer dollars in a restaurant that blatantly displayed hatred toward gays.
Now that the coast is clear, I may go there, except I hear the food is pretty fattening and unhealthy.
Anyway, it's okay now for queers to graze at the Cracker Barrel...if you want.
If you'd like to send the CEO an e-mail, encouraging his company's arrival into the Real World where diversity is a good thing, he can be reached at:
Let's give him a little praise for seeing the light, shall we?

Monday, December 09, 2002


Huh? What the hell happened last night?
No way is Carmella going to divorce Tony. It was a cliffhanger, that's all.
Furio better keep his ass in Italy after Carmella blabbed.
The most classic scene was Tony on his boat serenading that creepy lawyer with the Rat Pack shtick.
Too many loose ends left untied last night, if you ax me.
«greybird *looking around*»

Hmmm... I think I fixed it! On with it, Karen. Where's Monday's post?

Sunday, December 08, 2002

Code Red

I see the code for my bloglinks has expired. I don't even know what that means, since GreyBird is basically my blogging brain in everything but the actual words I write.
I have humbly asked her to fix it, and let me thank her in advance for her assistance by offering a few Grey Bird haiku.

Oh, mighty Grey Bird
Such a computer braintrust!
She's a gen-i-ous

Bird's puppy Thilde
Has taught Mommy many tricks
Like fetch, sit and stay

Snowy in Birdland
Good thing she has a girlfriend
to shovel the snow

Saturday, December 07, 2002

Cleaning Out Drawers

I spent the day reviewing the last 15 years of my life, pulling receipts and cards and photos and printed e-mail and letters and trinkets out of my office file and art space cabinets until my eyes crossed.
I filled two Hefty big bags with junk I had no room for anymore.

Some of my castoff treasures (besides old letters and paper trash):
• A faux silver clam-shaped candy dish
• A watch with a dial approximately the size of an apricot
• A teddy bear statue
• 400 assorted pieces of shopworn blank letterhead paper
• 78 non-matching envelopes
• 3 giant plastic paperclips
• One sheer silk scarf with an autumn leaves motif (don't ask)
• 4 out of date calendars, unused
• 2,578 dried-out felt tip pens
• 34 bottles of acrylic paint, fossilized
• 1 jar rubber cement
• 6 petrified paint brushes
• 46 ugly generic florist vases
• 2 copies, The Globe tabloid
• 7 scratched, dented, stained or torn religious prayer cards
• 12 tiny plastic babies
• 4 Wallace and Grommit collector cards
• 32 Home Depot paint stirring sticks
• 12 pounds, broken stained glass chunks
• 12 really bad poems
• 3 battered reporter's notebooks
• 2 work aprons
• 57 hotel sewing kits
• 67 buttons
• 17 bottles hotel moisturizer
• 58 partially used match books
• 7 sets of boarding passes and used airline tickets
• 36 credit card receipts
• 3 nail clippers
• 1 broken miniature Caterpillar front end loader
• 1 very ugly freebie mousepad

That's just my office and artspace. The kitchen drawers are next. :0
Blog Salad™

In lieu of cleaning the cats' bedroom, vacuuming the house, scrubbing the bathtub or cleaning my car, it's time to toss another Blog Salad.™

-Here are the 10 most unsafe cities in the United States, according to a study:
St. Louis, Detroit, Atlanta, Gary IN, Baltimore, Camden, NJ, Compton, CA, Flint MI, Tampa and Jackson, MS.
I have been to St. Louis, Atlanta, Camden and Compton. Camden and Compton scared me the most. They take that 'boys in the hood' shit seriously in those locales.
If I were President, I'd find the money to rehab those 10 cities and provide their citizens with affordable child day care, education incentives, vocational training, real jobs and decent housing. It's a disgrace the way our government allows cities to rot.

-Dubya has not mentioned Osama bin Laden publicly since June. Now that we know he's still alive, how did Teflon George get by with this? Osama masterminded the 9-11 massacres. He's still the worst enemy America has. I wish he led an oil-rich country so Bush and his cronies had a reason they thought was important enough to go after him.

-Unemployment figures in the U.S. reached a 10-year high this week. Bush can't find bin Laden, he wants a costly war with Iraq, he's letting the Saudis screw us and he's not tending to the domestic budget at all. The surplus Clinton left us is GONE. We are in deep debt again. Who can still support this ineffective moron?

-Have you ever tried to find Chanukkah wrapping paper in Roman Catholic San Antonio? Let me say, it's tricky. Once I found some pretty silver and blue paper festooned with Stars of David, I wrapped all of Aviva's gifts, only to hear her say, "What? Chanukka's over, I want Christmas presents." I told her, "Too bad, you're a Jew and you're getting belated Chanukkah gifts."

-There are 20 different ways to spell Chanukkah.

-If you are diabetic and you eat a cucumber and half a bagel with a teaspoon of peanut butter on it before bedtime, your glucose level will be 10 points higher than usual the next morning.

-Some cats don't care about what you spray on furniture to get them to stop clawing. They just hold their breath while they are doing it. James is a scofflaw and I am thinking about kitty bootcamp for the fuzzy little bastard.

Friday, December 06, 2002

The James Report

As you may recall, James is my 18-month-old kitten who used to be the Pulp Friction poster boy in his little argyle sweater.
Now he's a big, muscle bound tomcat, yet his spoiled, adorable kittenhood mentality remains intact.
I recently acquired a new loveseat, upholstered in a sturdy, tapestry style fabric.
James and his accomplice Bart, my older tomcat, have managed to lacerate several spots on my new loveseat with their oft-trimmed claws.
The baby's foster mother Katie suggested I brew a tea out of some herb called rue and spray it on the loveseat. Rue?
In case the witchcraft botanica doesn't stock rue, has anyone else got any suggestions on how I can stop my bad, bad boys from tattering my furniture?
Meanwhile, Aviva likes cats, but she can't tolerate them in bed with her. Allergies.
James thinks my bed is his and he allows me to share it with him, providing he's allowed to stroll over me at will, and gets to get under the covers and fuse his spine to my ribs while he sleeps. If I move, he meows angrily.
James does not like the words no, get off, get away or stop it.
James is not a cat to reason with. He is uncompromising in his viewpoints and far too cute and fuzzy to kill.
Aviva is not a woman who will tolerate her allergies being stirred. She too is far too cute and fuzzy to kill.
So I have a dilemma. Shall I sequester the boys into their bedroom at night, with the door shut off from the heater in the hallway?
Or, shall I risk the wrath of Aviva, who has ways of communicating her discomfort that might include the words no, get off, get away and stop it?
One way or another, some pussycat will have to adjust.
All three are capable of retribution.
I know not what to do.

Thursday, December 05, 2002

Survivor: See ya, Jake

No doubt about it, Texas land developer (is that a real job?) Jake Billingsley is outta there tonight.
I may have been thrown off by a few picks, but not this time.
Jake has failed to endear himself to the remaining majority tribe and they want him outta there. He's the last of the Suck Guy tribe and that's all there is to it.
Frankly, it's all a formality until next week when we see the Chew Me Guy tribe members start to feed on each other. Jan better watch her wobbly ass. She's probably next.
Bye, Jake. See you back in Texas, Bubba.
A Word About Words

We need to get together and fix some words and phrases so they make sense.
For instance, when someone is being introduced to an audience in a business setting, superlatives are often used to describe the person:
"John is an ambitious, determined, uncompromising business leader..."
Uncompromising? Why is that considered a good thing? Sounds to me like John is a hard ass who lacks flexibility and refuses to listen to others.
Obversely, when someone is found to be doing something wrong, we might hear:
"She was caught in a compromising position."
What's wrong with compromising? Why does it get such a bad rap?
I wish some people in my life would be more compromising.
I wish some people in my life would be less uncompromising.
And I wish people would stop giving the word uncompromising such a good rap while discrediting the word compromising.
It's good to compromise.
It's bad to be uncompromising.
Just remember that.

Wednesday, December 04, 2002


Oy. She'll be here in 18 days.
She's very neat and tidy. I am more bachelor-esque.
How do kitchen floors and cabinets get so funky?
Attention: if you are an obsessive compulsive housekeeper, please contact me for a good time. Meals included. Hope you like salmon and spinach.
Please hurry.

Tuesday, December 03, 2002


I got my prosperity shit together years ago, thanks to Louise L. Hay and her excellent book, "You Can Heal Your Life."
I know God wants us all to prosper, and that poverty is just another way we tell ourselves we aren't deserving.
I am usually financially carefree and solvent, making good money to pay for things that bring me comfort and pleasure. I'm by no means rich, but I do have a comfortable life that allows me a lot of freedom.
Lately, the material world has conspired to test those values.
My property tax bill landed with a thud.
My roof has reached the critical mass stage. Massive rainstorms over the last several months have taken their toll. It's time.
My mother had to move and setting her up in a new place called for additional expenses nobody was anticipating.
Now my very sound and reliable Acura has developed a new wrinkle. Seems after I drove to Austin this weekend, she started leaking antifreeze on my brother's pristine black driveway. So, I refilled the little reservoir, said a prayer, checked it on the way home and had no overheating problems. No leakage when I got home, either.
Then yesterday, I went on a 20 mile round trip errand and found leakage again.
Last night, I went to the post office real quick and early morning rains may or may not have rinsed away any additional leakage.
Anna wants to have lunch today at Whole Foods. I simply told her if I don't show up, the radiator failed me. I am not going to be scared into staying off the roads, because I know I'll be okay regardless of what may occur. If the car starts overheating, there are tow trucks available.
So that's it. I'll take the car in tomorrow and hope for the best. I love my mechanic and trust him implicitly.
If it's a new radiator, I'll just be thankful for VISA and Mastercard trusting me enough to allow me to get it fixed.
When bills mount and resources are strained, it's just the Universe telling me something is out of balance and needs to be tended to, so that's where I'll put my energy.
I believe that in testing our core beliefs, they are only strengthened. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.

Monday, December 02, 2002

I've Gone Boring.

Sheesh. I am starting to bore myself.
All I think about lately is eating right, exercising and getting ready for Aviva's visit by trying to remove any vestige of allergens from my dust and kitty fur insulated domicile.
I am sleepwalking through work. Luckily my editor is, too.
My glucose levels are almost normal now. I can't fucking believe it. When I no longer need meds at night, I am going to tell that doctor this crap can be put into remission, and I plan to wag my finger in the process. My next appointment is in January. By then I plan to be within perfectly normal glucose range.
Harry Potter's first movie runs on HBO about three times a day. I am addicted to it. I can't keep from watching it. I've seen it at least 12 times already.
Uh oh, it's time to go. I have a dozen sugar free Jelly Bellys coming to me and the Harry Potter movie just started. Again.

Sunday, December 01, 2002


Damn, Edie Falco earned her Emmy tonight.
Carmella's so hot for Furio, my TV screen started steaming up. And Furio is acting like he's locked inside a tragic opera.
I could smell the olive oil and garlic sizzling when those two were on screen together.
They made Tony look especially large and sloppy tonight so Carmella could look at him and gross out while she hid her Furio-inflamed frenzypants.
One more thing...during the Billy Budd discussion, A.J. was making faces whenever someone made a gay joke, and he kept talking about his lit teacher Mr. Wiggle.
Could it be possible that Tony's son is (dramatic pause) ...gay?
Meadow's boyfriend- kack- it won't last. He reminded me a little of Sponge Bob Squarepants. His head was shaped like Bob's.