Monday, June 30, 2003

can i go home now?
Had a chat with the Ex earlier today. She really is good people. Breaking up is weird. That's it. I have nothing profound to say about it beyond that simple fact. I've been thinking about our conversation for the better part of the day. Not to find any hidden meaning or figure out if I could have possibly phrased something differently but more, I think, because i just miss having conversations with her so I keep replaying this one. Anyway. I was actually planning to write something about a conversation I was having with Mistah Lovah Lovah about aging and solitude vis a vis loneliness but now that I'm here I'm just not up to it.

and the winner is...

By the way, the winner for the BEST phrase I have heard all month goes to {drumroll, please} Mr. Sir J who, just this morning, uttered these fateful words:

"...the rest of the panty tasks were washed away during the kayaking portion of the race."

This will either be the name of my next band or the title of my next book depending on which career I get moving on first.


It is about time someone finally spelled out what exactly is appropriate for me (a woman) to wear. Thank you, Robyn for the link. You have no idea what a huge weight this is off my mind... (Keep going through to the "next slide" -- for those of you with a limited imagination they go ahead and dress up some mannequins like the sluts they are to illustrate the "don'ts".)

A moment of silence for Kate


Katherine Hepburn, dead at 96. World mourns. Kudos to you Katie! You were an inspiration, a goddess and an ass-kicking chick at a time when it didn't exactly pay to be different. Rest in Peace. You rock!

Well, it would appear that our little Angel became a man last night! We are just sooo proud. I don't have all the details yet because someone has yet to call me (probably still all snuggled up cute mongst the sweat-stained "love-sheets") {heart}.... yay! Good going! Nicely done and all that. And, also, while I'm on the subject and because someone asked, the background on the two boys who are rather suddenly in my life is as follows:

A long time ago when I was a tweenie living in Albu-turkey, New Mexico (yes, we have the same money) we lived in a house in the Heights (which, for those of you not from ABQ, is where the upper-middle class folks lived. We lasted about two years before moving to the South Valley where the hair was bigger and everybody had a pool in their backyard; it was called the Rio Grande!) Anyway, I was friends with two sisters who lived across the street from me (they had a Barbie townhouse and two parents. I was a bit put off by the sheer excess of this arrangement but live and let live, I say.) These sisters and I spent a whole lot of time running away from their bratty, snot-nosed, little brother who was, I think, 3 or 4 years old and who spent all his time trying to put his filthy, grubby little kid hands all over our stuff. Long story short, we moved. I lost track of the sisters.

About a year ago my mom ran into one of them and mentioned that I was a big rock star/web designer/ theatre critic/ doing Something-with-computers out here in Cali and passed along my digits. Fast forward to three or four months ago, I'm minding my own biz-ness when suddenly, from out-of-the-blue, as they like to say, these two 20-somethings sashay into my life armed only with skateboards and scraps of paper with some kind of mostly illegible writing on them. I'm the only one they could track down (Yay, me!) so it has since become my joy and my burden to shepard these youth as they traverse the modern Gomorrah, making sure that they bypass actual harm while still managing to have as much fun as is humanly possible and to get laid a lot! Now, those of you paying attention might by now have put two and two together (like i finally did last night) and come up with the fact that technically, by screwing around with Dirty Boy I am messing with my friend's little brother which is not just wrong, it's gross. And, I gotta say, I'm right there with ya. It took me a minute to get there (I'm telling you, all the drugs are just beginning to kick in) but, rest assurex, I'm there. As far as I'm concerned this is just a big ole slippery slope and if I don't nip it in the bud now it's only a matter of time before a 20 year old Boo is screaming at me to leave her friends alone! {Shudder} K. No more of that. From this day forth I am a socially responsible, upstanding, dating-within-my-generation citizen. Promise.

Sunday, June 29, 2003


Spent the week-end being out and proud. Well, kind of proud, mostly just out. First me and Boo went old school on the Volvo (not sure why it didn't occur to me that we could always just drag out a hose and a bucket of suds and spend as many hours as we wanted scrubbing in the sun last week-end but hey, I don't get paid to think...!) Anyways, by the end of our washing experience we were both very wet and very silly and it didn't cost a damn thing! take that, Carwash Man!!

Then, feeling like we got away with something, me and Boo went to the Dyke March to meet up with the CP and eventually with the Miss Bee/Ms.B contingent. Even ran into the Best Friend and her fabulous Entourage toward the end of the eve which was unexpected and therefore even more special.

Today [Sundee], dropped the kid off with CP then, having been ditched again by Emerson (who, as he is trying to get his life together, is officially excused) wandered around the Civic Center with the rest of the out and proud listening to country music and trying not to buy some really cool surgical steel jewelry which would have necessitated a piercing in places that have suffered enough abuse. Instead i got a very fancy pinky ring which sports the single word that pretty much sums up everything I hope to become. [as an aside, and for the record, when I mentioned the new ring to Dirty Boy his response was "what's it say: 'F*cked'?!" It actually says "Princess" thank you very much! DB=prick]

Notwithstanding the snottiness, and having nothing better to do with my life, I ended up going over to Chez DB where we sat on the couch and watched Snatch on his big screen. Oh, and I may have tried to kiss the bastard. For the continuing record, he wouldn't let me but get this...

{*alert* the following may very well be "too much information" for some of you readers out there who think of me as the sister you never had. If descriptions of PG-13 humiliation and naughtyiness vis a vis the Chickster and another consenting adult ooge you out, then click here instead to go to a site that not only champions a very good cause but which actually makes a hell of a lot of sense in terms of a workable global solution to ending hunger. Good folks. Give them money.}

So, we're sitting there and the movie is over and DB has just said I can't kiss him [saving himself for Other Girl I guess.] and we end up having the following conversation:

Chick: Damn. Now I have a headache.
Dirty Boy: You know how you get rid of headaches?
Chick: How?
DB: You have to get the blood re-directed away from your head.
Chick: What?
DB: Re-directed.
Chick: How the hell do you do that?
DB: Like this...{scoots over to my side of the couch and starts unbuttoning my pants}

I am not kidding. This is the boy who earlier in the evening would have nothing to do with my top half because he's saving himself for marriage or something and now,thirteen minutes later, he trying to send the finger family South for a little recon! I, of course, was incensed, appalled and not just a little indignant. I didn't make him stop or anything cause, Christ, the guy is talented and his hand felt really good, but still (!!) What is it with boys and their complete inability to follow the accepted rules of engagement??

So, as I was saying, Snatch, the movie. Good flick. Guy Ritchie has got one hell of an eye for the good-looking boys, i'm telling ya. I don't know what kind of arrangement him and the Madone have but he could have been the poster child for the 2000 Pride parade. Check out the five minute faux jerk-off session in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels with the beautiful boys suddenly deciding to drown each other in seltzer. Christ! If that's not homerotic, I don't know what is. Anyways....

All of this brings me back to my original point which is that I have no idea if I am even still gay. I was surrounded by close to a thousand of the world's freshest females most of whom were sporting neon signs stating that they were, in fact, "bent" and the hottest I got was over some dragqueen playing keyboards in a band called PepperSpray. (Speaking of which, if anyone knows the band and can get close to "Peg" could you ask him if he needs a wife/girlfriend/groupie/decent web designer and give him my number?)

I mean, I know I don't want a girlfriend right now. I'm pretty sure (despite all the recent activity) that I don't want a boyfriend either, so where does that leave me? I can't even pretend to be politically Lesbo since the one extended encounter I had with an actual female I spent all my time rolling my eyes while she tried to convince me to go cheer for some chick because she was going to get boo-ed because she had won some contest and some people thought she shouldn't have won cause she was "currently heterosexually partnered"... blah, blah, blah. I mean, c'mon! "Currently Heterosexually Partnered"? What is that?? Anyway. I'm not political anymore. I'm never going to have real sex with a girl ever again and the vast majority of my tingly feeling are being caused by the male side of the species... I'm beginning to see why real Rug-munchers are so afraid of us Bi-chicks. Couldn't make up our damn minds if our lives depended on it. In the interest of honest reporting though, I do have to say I got a slight buzz from some gal who stopped to inquire if I had any aspirin. CP claims i blushed and threw a sidelong glance or two after the lady in question. I maintain that Miss CP is still recovering from all the drugs she did in the late eighties and as such is not the most reliable witness but, I will admit I may have been somewhat intrigued.

At any rate, the sun stayed mostly out and the week-end stayed mostly good. I give it a six overall. I'm tired now, though. And my head still hurts.

Friday, June 27, 2003

No freakin' way!

This is the best reason I've seen to get Showtime. Jennifer Beales - mmmmmmmm......tasty!

Down among the washed

Once again, was riding the train of the well-scrubbed today and I noticed something. Nobody pays to ride the N. I mean nobody. (Except me but I'm not well-scrubbed.) It was weird. People were getting on multiple entrances, there was an occassional mad dash followed by a triumphant swoop aboard; backpacks were adjusted, people amiably shifted around to make room but nobody put any money into the coinbox. And nobody showed a fastpass. At first i didn't really think to much about it until I saw a girl get on, pause by the fare box, pull out her wallet, discover she had no singles then, with complete unconcern, she replaced her wallet, pulled out her phone and began to make a call. I'm not kidding. People were treating the farebox like a cup being passed after the silver guy stops moving. One lady got on with her kid and made a HUGE deal about her child putting 35 cents into the box and getting a transfer. Everyone smiled. "How cute! She's paying." It was decidedly weird. It was weirder when I realized that it's possible these people don't pay because they know the odds of them getting harrassed in a "transfer, please" kind of way by the MUNI police are pretty slim. It's just not that kind of line. I think there may be some sort of rule that the very clean don't need any other "proof-of-purchase." I could easily imagine every single person on that train (except me) striding into some shop on Irving street with a blouse -- no bag, no reciept, just the blouse -- crumpled in their hand, hoping to return it because it just didn't fit right. And I bet it would work. I bet the serious but concerned salesperson would take back that blouse and not even check it for stains. I bet they'd take whatever card was handed to them and ring up the refund including the sales tax, smile at that customer and sincerely inquire whether or not "there would be anything else?". Weird.

There was a lady on the train today who was not so much a lady as she was a watercolor sketch of a lady. I don't think I've every seen someone so completely drawn, if you know what I mean. Her lines were f***ing amazing! Anyway. I couldn't stop staring at her. Another lady noticed me being fixated, glanced at the object of my attention then back at me. Then she shrugged and continued reading her million and six page Harry Potter book. "Not very well-scrubbed." She probably thought. "I'll bet she paid full fare." I don't care. I want to take that watercolor lady and hang her in my livingroom. I think she'd go great with my couch.

Quick good-bye to some co-worker friends

Good-bye, Andrew. Michelle and Jim. I really enjoyed working/hanging out with you guys. It's people like you that make coming to work fun and I hope your next gigs are fulfilling and lucrative. Best of luck in the real world. Don't let the bastards get you down!!

I think I need coffee now. And another shower; only this time with sweet-smelling soap.

Thursday, June 26, 2003

A solution for you?

So, after much back and forth, I finally (finally) got Network Solutions to forward my domain name to the Hayseed house. Type in "" et voila! there you are at my temporary home page!! (Yay!) BUT, I want the address in the little IE window at the top of the browser to continue saying "" instead of having it display the re-routed path to Anyone got any ideas on how to make this happen?

I want to have a nine-way with the Supreme Court!

Well, maybe a 6-way because, now, apparently it's legal... How much ass is being kicked right now??

Alrighty, on to more important issues, like... my week-end. I'm guessing that now that we're allowed to be gay the festivities this coming Sat/Sun will be off the hook! which, leads us to our main concern of "what will I wear?" The Escort has informed me that he will be attired in fading indigo jeans and a "Lucy!" muscle T. He has further informed me that if I am not at least partially "all that" he will ditch me for the first person he sees who matches his outfit. I do not care because he doesn't know that I'm leaving him to go watch the Animatrix (and possibly Hedwig with the fabulous Emerson at noon. Hahahaha!!!) Sides, I don't really like the Sundee part of Pride. It's always so hot and the boys are all so Boy-ey! Sat. though. It's all about the Dyke march! The fabulous Miss Bee has invited Boo and I to meet up with them in the park for a little potty-luck and some quality chick scoping. Given that it is boiling today, the odds that it will be freezing on Sunday are good. Sat. however, may just be bearable. Mmmmmmmm, girls. Gotta love em.

Right. So, I was going to do today's posts as "literary critique" wherein I explore the complex relationships between the artist and her muse vis a vis the study of a series of uncompromising yet superbly artful reflections which are initially so varied that some may find it difficult to believe that they were penned by the same author. The ambition of that particular undertaking, however, would have produced an unwieldy masterpiece that may have been heroic to some yet precisely because of that heroism, would have shown weaknesses to be more like tragic flaws, defining qualities that we can lament but at the same time can't imagine this blog without. Ultimately I came to the conclusion that since this blog, like everything else in our modern society is essentially about love and loss, it seemed redundant and cursory to even attempt explication through words. That said, we now return you to our regular writing.

Back to the week-end... Looking forward to Pride. In a wierd mood this morning though. I had one of those dreams about the Ex last night . Damn! Say what you want (not that there's that much to say since the Ex is really a very sweet person) but that girl was (and probably still is) hot! I find myself in a very interesting predicament here onna counta, she probably still hates me and while I couldn't really predict how a surprise run-in would go, I do know that everytime I've seen her in the past I tended to want to smile largely... all I'm sayin is, it's weird to think that should we someday run into each other on BART my reaction would be "{Big smile} Hey!" While hers would probably be "{stony face} Oh. Hey." Know what I'm saying? I guess I'm just not used to wanting to see someone who I made a conscious decision to not want to see.

K. nuff of that. Decisions were made. Lives were changed. Beds must be lied in. Moving along now. nothing to see here.

By the way, this space is for rent. So, if anyone wants to post any notices or advertise anything feel free to drop me a line and we'll work out the logistics. That said:

"Daddy for medium height, super-cute, skateboarding boy toy. Must be willing to drive me around and buy me stuff. Will reciprocate by being extremely witty, hot in bed and adoring in public. Extremely well-built (extremely!), but on the skinny side. Not afraid of commitments. Send all responses to Angel via Chick's e-mail." [O.K. so Angel didn't really say any of this but I know he wants to. C'mon boys, let's step lively here. I want to get this kid laid by July 4th!)

Wednesday, June 25, 2003

The phone call wasn't anything, more news about nothing, but it started Chick thinking about phone calls in general. Like why people who you didn't want to call you back did and people who you did, didn't. Chick was missing people. She missed T and the Boy. She missed her old friends who were settled into lives that didn't have room for her. She even missed people who she hadn't technically lost. Like Q. Chick had left a few messages on her best friend's voicemail and received a few messages in return. The feeling was definitely mutual; that they should talk, get together, share stories, but no time was set. There were scheduling conflicts, deadlines - on both sides. Chick understood but it still made her sad. "I'm just hungry. I should probably eat." Chick decided, checking the time. "Or I'm about to bleed." She ammended, checking her datebook. A friend pinged her to check on the lunch situation. "Let's take care of the hunger first." Chick decided, getting up to go. "We'll deal with the gut-wrenching cramps later."

A new leaf

It has been brought to my attention that I am "too Victorian" in my writings. As someone who not only welcomes but actively encourages criticism (constructive or otherwise) I have decided that today's postings will be Hemingwayesque. I'm not sure if this is the start of a grand tradition (p'raps tomorrow I'll channel Dave Eggers -- nah, I'm not that cool. Anyway...) but it's what the people want and as such, it is what the people shall get!

It was usually pretty quiet around the cube. That is unless the dolls started talking. Then it got loud. The subdued yet constant chat like pigeons not quite sure if they're ready to roost but at the same time unwilling to call it a night. The dolls were quiet now. Waiting. Watching. Chick noticed that one of them was having a hard time making eye contact. Chick didn't care. She was used to the silence. The quiet, accusing "we 'belong' to you?!" that hovered in the air between her (to them anyway) grotesque typing humanity and their painted vinyl perfection. The question was mostly unspoken but acknowledged nonetheless. Chick surveyed the landscape. She played with her stapler for a minute, just to teach the dolls a lesson, then glanced at her to-do list. There was only one thing on it that she was actually interested in. The rest she considered "busywork". In the grand scheme of things, Chick supposed, it was all "busywork." Chick had some more coffee. Boss #3 pinged her with a query. Chick liked Boss #3. She thought he was smart. There were others in the office who were beginning to warm up to him as well. To appreciate his slighty skewed yet methodical coding. Chick was secure in her fondness though. After all, she had liked him first.

"Move buttons to SourceSafe" she read aloud from the list. Chick wondered what would happen if she didn't move the buttons. What if her OS decided to take a holiday and she lost her life's work, or worse, the client's files? Chick sighed and sat back. She missed her kid. Wednesdays were the worst. Nothing but work, cats, and sleep between her and her 5:30 pick-up the next day. 5:30 on Thursdays. That's when her life began again. This? This "in-between" time? This was busywork. "I've discovered a theme for my life!" she announced to the dolls but they'd stopped listening. Chick took another swig of coffee. There was a bake sale going on in the kitchen. Chick's contribution had been two pans of brownies. Now she wondered if maybe she shouldn't have left one of the batches at home, so she could eat it tonight. While she waited on the couch, with the cats, for the day to finally be over.

Tuesday, June 24, 2003

Why o' why don't I live in LA?? Oh right, I hate it down there. But that was "used to be"! Now there's all this cool stuff going on re: Grease 2 'n sheet!! Thanks to the fabulous Miss Diva (friend extraordinaire to the always vivacious Jason!) for this link. I love her because she was a part of that magical night and because she says she'll let me know when they're going to do it again next year!

In other news, Pretty Boy got a car. This is only funny if you happen to know the boy in question and you know that he's gotta be like 30 at this point and has never owned a car in his damn life or even had his license for that matter! O.K. maybe not funny, haha....

Then there's the part where we're all standing around talking and I laugh/sneeze and snot shoots out of my nose while the uber chivarous Sir J and Tony continue the conversation as if nothing untoward has just happened. Christ, I am nothing if not suave!

I knew it!!

So, Toni (why is everyone who works the phones at every casting agency named Toni??) just called from Big Name Casting. They want to submit Boo for some shoot for Hidden Valley [all very breezy tone, very la ti da]. Not super sure where yet, maybe Tahoe, "all day thing". They'll "do expenses", of course; "is she SAG"(??) Eek! What have I done?

2 old 2 B Hootchie?

On my way to work this morning I happened to pass by my favorite store of all time; a little boutique called Ragmatazz. Upon glancing in, I spied, there in the lower left side of the store display, a pair of pink, seude, velcro tennies. I began to salivate. beads of sweat dotted my brow. I feverishly checked the hours of business and considered the feasibility of hanging around outside for close to two hours until the manager arrived so I could explain my situation and perhaps get her to do one pre-sale...just one, please.... while I was thus captivated, a largish woman who appeared to be mid-forties, possibly fifty arrived on the scene with a set of keys. She saw me staring hungrily at the shoes and hopefully at her and laughed. "I'm just going into the side office" she remarked, "but those are nice. I have a pair." she nodded and winked and went on her way.

O.K. Here's the thing. Me liking the shoes? Cool. Fresh. Contemporary with just a hint of youthful whimsy, dare, i say, even slightly Fly. Her liking the shoes?? I dunno. She seemed very nice and all that but she was just so...old. When I was a twenty-nothing I worked at a "vintage" clothing store in the Haight called the Wasteland. I'm not gonna say we copped tude or anything but we were sort of expected to be half an hour beyond whatever was going on right now and we did act somewhat superior about it. Thing is, I remember these old ladies coming in (like 35-40!) with all this money and their newly lifted bodies buying stacks of stuff and (I'm not ashamed to say it) these women were regarded with just a trace of pity. Back to me. now. I want those shoes. I like Forever 21 dammit! I try to dress like a rebrobate. Granted not at work (usually) and not nearly to the extent that I did - back when the body was a bit more, shall we say... slammin'. But what does this make me?? Have I become one of them? I've already accepted the fact that I'm going to embarrass my kid(s) Will this be my area of annoyance? (Interestingly enough, my mom has been known to throw togther an enemble that makes her accessories cringe and throughout my growing years, I've at times wondered why she "couldn't just dress like a normal mom"... eh hem... realizing, of course, that that has NOTHING to do with this post, so... moving along...) I don't think I'm an embarrassment yet... My friends are still, for the most part, willing to hang out with me. But... (and here's the rub) even if I was pathetically clinging to the styles of my youth... I don't think I'd do anything about it. The one thing that makes sense to me as a 35 year old lady is that this is what I'm like. This is me. My hair won't grow longer than my shoulders, I will always scoff at {shudder} green food. I wear ripped clothes. I like old books bound with leather bindings and I love my kid's shoes. I'll age out of the other mid-twenties stuff (no more drama if it can be avoided, and definitely no more staring at someone for three hours in a club waiting for them to come talk to me then going home alone. In fact, no more clubs period. Clubs suck.) but the clothes thing... Nah. To all those ladies I snickered at back in my Wasteland days, a heartfelt apology. You go, my fashion-sistahs -- You're never to old to be Hootchie!

So, I participated in this survey last night. It took fifty million years to complete but it was interesting to see the sort of methodology utilized by our United states Governmental fact finding agencies.

[alert: Grad school geeking out ahead. If you're eyes begin to glaze over, skip to the next section. It's got puppies...]

First off, the materials were in English and Spanish. There are apparently no readers of any other ethnic flavor that our government is interested in. Filipino? nah, thanks all the same. Russian? Nope. Sorry. I found this interesting. Also interesting was the fact that the guy conducting the survey had to read each question (and all the responses) out loud. He had to. I tried interrupting a few times (for instance when the answer I wanted to give was listed first) but was informed that "all the answers must be read in case there is a more appropriate one in the list." I also realized that I suck at math. A part of the survey involved deciphering ad content. For instance: if a pillow is typically 12.99 but is on sale for 9.99 and you have a 10% off coupon, how much will you end up paying? huh? In real life i just hand over a twenty but that's not gonna cut it as far as the United States Government is concerned!

There were some great, questions about children's reading too. "Do you read more than 15 minutes a day to your school-age child?", "Does your child see you reading - often, sometimes, seldom, not at all?" Oh! and the best part was the end where I got to read made-up words. I dunno what they're checking with that but i gotta tell ya, who knew simply reading the word "floom" off a card could make a person so smiley??

Anyways, interesting experience. I highly recommend to anyone who is approached for (non-incriminating) data that they tell all. Everything in our world is based on numbers and the more of us out there adding to the national statistics the less likely (I would hope) it will be that truly evil things (like library closures in poorer neighborhoods) get suggested.


Monday, June 23, 2003

This apparently happened last week-end. My so-called friend down in L.A. went but neglected to inform me. {sigh} see... thing is, I sooooo thought my back was had... {shake head. won't. let. them. see. me. cry. quietly going back to work...}

Standing up to be counted...

Er... ah... I mean sitting down! So, I've been selected to participate in a nationwide survey regarding adults and reading. I received a brochure in the mail (which I promptly tossed into my oft cleaned, never smelly kitchen gar-bage receptacle) then Friday eve this guy comes around with a sheaf of papers asking if I am, in fact, the person living in ... blah, blah, blah and if i could answer a few questions. Suffice to say, I , like most of my fellow Americans probably would not have even opened the door had I known who this person was and what he represented but, since I did, I felt it behooved me to invite him the hell in. Long story short, The ole US of A is trying to get a feel for "adult reading patterns" and I (I) get to represent my block! Whoo Hoo! Jane Eyre, in the house, yo! Anyway, this, as with most things, started with "a few questions" yet quickly became "I'll come over Monday evening for 2 hours and ask you every imaginable question I can dream up about the ways in which you fancy yourself literate." {sigh} I mean, I suppose it's for the good of the country or something but what about Seinfeld? ... Speaking of which, I went ahead and assumed from the sheaf and the standard issue laptop that ole Jim Ferguson [6'2'', Caucasian male, early 50's, clean-shaven with greying hair] was not a serial killer but, in the event that I fail to post tomorrow, go to my house and check the crawlspace. Oh, and feed the cats. If, by chance, I'm not in the crawlspace and am instead someplace more easily accesible (like under the bed) I don't want them lunching on my remains.


Excuse me but what the hell?!

Speaking of which (40ish years young musician attempts to re-package herself as 20-something popstar -- news at 11:00!) I was talking to my kid yesterday and she mentioned that she "hates it when her leg gets fat." (!!) Upon further questioning it was revealed that "fat" is what happens when you're sitting and your thigh becomes "soft". To better illustrate (perhaps because she took my look of extreme shock tinged with dismay to mean I wasn't quite understanding what she was trying to tell me) Boo began poking various parts of her gymnast-tone, five-year-old body and saying "See! It's squishy." I, quite simply, was and am at a loss. Again, I know that this happens and I know that our society markets these images of unnaturally thin body types to increasingly younger girls... blah, blah, blah, but c'mon! 5 years old??? 5?!! {sigh} I, of course, tried to disguise my chagrin by pointing out that 1) muscles get "soft" when they are in thier relaxed state and that's what helps them stay flexible and stretchy and 2) I, myself, had some squishy bits that, just so happened to be among Boo's favorite places to snuggle when she needed some comfort and/or a rest and that these bits were actually quite cute, especially when we poked them and they jiggled. she (grudgingly, I think) accepted this second line of reasoning but still.... What the hell are we doing to our girls??????

Hullo, Happy, happyies!

I'm in a fabulous mood today. Had a splenderific week-end and all is right with the world (for now. breath is not being held...) Me and Boo spent Sat. rolling around Frisco like the big-shots we are. First, went for a casting call/photo-shoot thing at Fort Mason -- they're looking for people to be in an insurance ad. How sad has my life become that I am now stopped on the street and asked to participate in a casting call for insurance?? I think they just wanted my kid anyway. I'll have to get used to that... -- at any rate, photo shoot was quick and fun. Photographer guy was nice and let Boo do bunny ears on me for one of the shots (which given that we were numbers 398/399 respectively I gotta give him props for.) Then it was off to Fisherman's warf to be fabulous like the tourists only better because we know how much things are supposed to cost! Sunglasses were thrown on, french fries were eaten, marionettes were purchased -- I actually found a decent parking space so you know it was meant to be... Then home again, home again, to the happy abode. Chick's famous baked spaghetti for sup-sup and off to bed. {sigh} Life, she ees sweet.

Then, on Sunday... breakfast, Finding Nemo and thorough scrub-down of the old truck. I'd forgotten it used to be red. Anyways, Finding Nemo - finally! This was Boo's second time seeing it so she was very helpful and covered my eyes during all the scary bits. Very beautiful animation. Very sweet story. Nicely done, Pixar! Keep up the good work. Can I just say, do-it-yourself carwash places are becoming SUCH a rip! Sheesh. First you have to use their stupid tokens instead of real money which means you have to buy more than you probably need since you may need a tiny bit of extra time but not the whole two minutes extra.... And what's with the two freakin' minutes?? Who washes an entire car in two minutes?? Whatever. The spray gun is really fun so I will continue to go but sheesh, makes me mad. Boo was a trooper and a huge help both with the bubble brush and the after towel-down. Due entirely to her careful ministrations the lower half of my esteemed vehicle is spotless! Some Shlub (me) was in charge of the upper half so there are all these half-assed-dirt-re-distributed-into-circle marks but whatever! I can't be good at everything!!

Later that day: dropped off Boo with the CP and, un-able to go ahead with Plan A (Hanging at the Hayseed house watching the Animatrix -- the highly anticipated viewing having been mercilessly re-scheduled by Emerson) I ended up down at the Pier watching Dirty Boy and Angel attack things with thier skateboards. Other Girl was there as well, so the two of us sat (her looking bored, me being bored) for a good thirty minutes not talking to each other. Yipee! Betty Friedan would have been thrilled!

This is Other Girl:

OG: [early twenties, pink, pointy hair, "Emily's Cats" t-shirt with cut-off sleeves, oily jeans, converse high tops, studs in her ears, nose, tongue and belly button - to Dirty Boy whom she is rumoured to "like"] Hey!
DB: [trying to slide across a pointed rectangular concrete thing on a foot long plank of wood without killing himself] What?!
OG: When are we gonna f***??
DB: [Misjudges some crucial something; slams board into tiny lip thing at end of concrete rectangle and lands on his back fairly close to where we are sitting] Ahhhhhh.....!
OG: [Smiling tenderly down at him] Stupid.

O.K. so at this point I laugh. I have to! Apparently the site of DB bleeding goes a long way toward relieving any real or imagined animosity between myself and Other Girl and we begin to get along famously. For about an hour. Until her brother comes to pick her up.

O.K. so I have to take a moment here to do something that I am convinced is the right thing to do but which is painful for me nontheless. After much reflection (and after having taken a quick look at the numbers) I'm afraid I am going to have to rescind a pseudonym. I have decided that the nom de blog of "Beautiful Boy" is more a title than a permanent monniker and, as such, can be won or lost depending on the vagaries of fate and our esteemed panel of judges. Not to say that our former Beautiful Boy is no longer beautiful (I think of it like the Presidency or the Miss America pageant -- [you'll always be beautiful to me, man!]) but for the purposes of this blog, Beautiful Boy from earlier posts will henceforth be known simply as Pretty Boy (which is still really, really good!)

eh, hem...

Now then. Other Girl's Brother. Oh Mi GAWD! Can we just say CUTE!!!!! Can we all take a collective moment to appreciate the sheer perfection that a human male can achieve (especially one with long brown hair, cafe au lait skin, the cutest teeth I've ever seen and a waist you just want to lick butter off of... well, maybe YOU might not want to but I guarantee it would be because of some wierd dietary restriction, NOT because the thought didn't occur to you.... Sweet! This Beautiful boy (you knew it was coming) comes riding up, throws himself down on the steps and proceeds to engage us in a chinwag (I say "us" in the metaphorical sense; Other Girl completely ignored him). I am confused, captivated and delighted all at the same time until, surprise, surprise, he suddenly glances at his watch, stands, and orders OG to "C'mon" as apparently they "gotta go meet, Mom." Sorrow, Desolation. The sun may have chosen that moment to set.... {Sigh} Well, at least I know how to find him should I ever 1) turn straight, 2) need a daddy for my next baby 3) want to re-affirm my faith in all that is holy.

Friday, June 20, 2003

i guess i'm happy that strides are being made n stuff, but sheesh, "a personal covenant of lifelong faithfulness." seems like an awful lot to put on some situation you probably got into just because you one day thought someone's ass looked cute... I mean, I thought lesbians were bad...


The name of the kid I want is Rosemary. She's "developmentally delayed", "medically fragile", diagnosed with "explosive disorder" and I want her soooo bad. Fingers crossed people! Get on it, Caseworker-Boy! Let's make this thing happen...

Whew! That was close!

I came this close to thinking about posting something up here before going to get my special, free-trade, organic, picked by persons making more than 5 bucks per day, uber-aware mug o coffee with a shot of ghiradelli chocolate syrup on the side. Let's just say, I'm glad not only for you, my obsessed public, but also for the rest of the relatively oblivious free world that I came to my senses and re-thought that misguided attempt at a decision!

Now then, where were we? [sip] Ah, yes, today's post. Today's post concerns familiarity vis a vis casual conversation.

Run-in #1: On my way to pick up the kid yesterday, I notice cute dyke I recognize from days gone by (the strides in my confidence, BTW, can be measured in miles as I neither turned and ran, tripped over something tiny on the sidewalk nor forgot any names) I made eye contact, I smiled, I nodded as I hurried past, intent as i was on getting into my truck and to my child waiting, shivering alone in the cold for me to finally show up. (Actually, by the time i arrived at the camp, Boo was happily empoyed doing an United States puzzle; perfectly toasty, eating an orange. I swear that kid needs me not at all. Ah well, I will continue to cling to her until she kicks me away so she can ride unencumbered off into the sunset that is her grown up life.) At any rate, this run-in felt perfect. This is someone I know, whom I've spoken to on more than one occassion, whom I'm written a flirtatious note to now and again but (and this is key) this is not someone whose life I need to catch up on. Nor do I think she would burst into flame if she somehow missed hearing my hours long monologue re: work, kid, school, second kid, work again... blah, blah, blah. I know her, I like her, I may, at some point actually want to talk to her but for right now, I've more pressing issues to attend to.

I bring this up because this morning on the train I ran into one of my Dad's ex-girlfriends. The fact that she was in San Francisco and not in Phoenix where last I saw her (albeit 15 years ago) was in and of itself shocking; add to that, the fact that she looks exactly the same as she did back then and you get into truly bizzare territory. So, there I am clutching my transfer, hanging onto the rail thing (essentially looming over her) squawking "Dixie?" The female in question glanced up and said, with some aplomb (gotta hand it to Pops, he tends to hook up with smooth wimmins) replied: "Oh, hello, Chick." [she didn't really say Chick, but you get my meaning]. Which left us... where? My Dad and this female were together for 7 years, I met her a few times when they co-habitated in Phoenix. What I could remember off the top of my head was that she liked neutral colors and ate only the wings when my dad made fried chicken. Hardly a conversation starter. Still though, there I am, swaying above this lady to whom i can think of nothing to say, for the rest of the trip downtown, feeling weird -- why? Because, I felt like I had to say something. Why?? I didn't feel compelled to yak with my long-lost buddy yesterday, why all of a sudden must I begin channelling Miss Manners today in front of the woman who immediately bought me expensive new shoes after discovering what appeared to be {horrors} athelete's foot sprouting between my twelve year old toes during a visit to Pops one summer (I think it was actually sock fuzz -- Mom was furious when she found out that Miss Dix had not only doused us all with Tenactin, but then proceeded to wrap our old - perfectly serviceable - shoes in multiple layers of plastic shopping bags before carrying them out of the house to dispose of them in the curbside bin. God only knows what Dixie would have done if she saw what she took to be a flea.) I couldn't move or start reading my magazine or something, because now we'd acknowledged each other and it would have been rude. One thing that was made incredibly clear though was that when someone knows nothing of the last ten years of your life, getting them up-to-speed as it were is an incredibly daunting task. "Hmmm? No, I'm not working at the clothing store anymore, and I'm no longer dating Mike. I'm a lesbian now; unattached but co-parenting with a female Ex-partner of mine; living in Oakland; working as a Web Designer for a huge Insurance firm you've never heard of; also going to school to earn my EdD in Educational Policy. Kid is 5 and a half. She's great. Yeah, I still eat noodles all the time. Heh. [Dammit, I should have brought up the chicken wings!]" "Nice to see you to. Yeah, keep in touch! [Keep in touch??!]" {Sigh} life is wierd.

Thursday, June 19, 2003

What would Martha do?

O.K. now this is funny. (Thanks, Dawneileen)
I can't decide if it's the music or the duck that disturbs me most.

to Camp or not to Camp

This morning's dilema is as follows: I've been invited to go on a camping trip that involves canoeing to get the the campsite location. This is an organized trip and there is only one adult spot left. I can bring Boo though. The trip is four days long and relatively inexpensive.


  • I love camping
  • I've been needing a break for awhile now. If i don't get into a different head-space soon I will go insane
  • Chunk of time with Boo! Yay!
  • I won't be able to do alone stuff with Boo very much after the new kid gets here so the timing on this is good

    potential down-sides:

  • the canoeing part seems a bit sketchy. If it was just me I'd be fine but what if something (God, forbid) happens to the Boo and I need to get her the hell out of there? How quickly can we find help if we need it?
  • Boo is a city kid. She's gone camping before but not for extended periods of time and usually there's a Winnebago involved. I could see this being fun for her for two days but four...?
  • I only know one of the people who will be going on the trip. What if the others are health-freaks or way into R&B or nudists or something?
  • I will be expected to cook a meal for these people. (Hope they like noodles and gravy...)
  • What if it rains?

    Hmmmmm. Well, I'm going to be thinking about it all day so if anyone has any input feel free to comment.

    In other news, I was cleaning last night and I found a photo album that my Dad gave me after my Gramma (his mom) died. I'd already glanced through it once but what I didn't realize was that each little slot actually has pictures on top of other pictures! There were like 50 pictures I hadn't seen! The best one is of my Big Brother around age four sitting in the dark. All you can see are these red cowboy boots and some skinny legs. On the back my G-ma wrote "Van's favorite picture". I can't decide if I should send it to him now or wait until he's lecturing his daughters about some style matter then whip it out....
  • Wednesday, June 18, 2003

    this is moronic. Sometimes, however, you feel like a nut...

    Caseworker check-in

    Currently available - one "medically fragile" little girl and three baby boys.

    Damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it!!!!!

    missing the kid (still -- sigh). At least i see her tomorrow. Ole Caseworker is supposed to come by tomorrow eve as well and be very cheery about the fact that i've heard nothing about our potential new kid. Part of me feels really bad that I'm being such a complete baby about this and the other part of me really wants to throw things... ah well, I am nothing if not contrary. Big shout-out to the fabulous Miss Tail. Thanks for the ride to work today. It was just the kickstart I needed to get me focused and happy on this lovely Wednesday morn. All of that happy focus has since dribbled away in to nothing-ness but it was nice while it lasted.
    o.k. let me make something clear here. I started this blog to get stuff out of my head and into an attractively arranged template so I could stare at it occassionally and giggle to myself instead of keeping it all locked inside and sucumbing to some mysterious heart disease. Given that this is stream of conciousness-stuff, and that I am writing about my life, it is inevitable that I may, on occassion say something that paints someone in a position they made feel uncomfortable/annoyed with. I am sorry for that. If anyone feels they have been unfairly portrayed feel free to utilize the comments section to refute and/or e-mail me and, if I think you have half a case, I will publicly retract and/or apologize for any untoward statements. If, however, the things I said are basically true but because I was in a wierd mood they came across in an unsavory way, tough titty! I am a woman of many moods and I refuse to kowtow to certain members of my reading audience who are semi-offended by my characterization of them and their filthy degenerate minds/lifestyle. I probably won't write anything truly mean about anybody up here but if you're in my life you can expect that I will herald your accomplishments to the high heavens but that I may also, on occassion, be annoyed with you. Especially, if you're being a prick about some offhand comment I made on a blog nobody reads! k. glad we got that straightened out. I feel much better now... How bout you?
    I like old guys. My two current favorites here at work are of the older persuation and I just think they're the cutest! especially when they're being all crotchety about something. Actually only one of them is feisty like that. The other might as well be Mr. Rogers with his all his good-natured helpfulness... every once in awhile though he'll drop some pseudo-sarcastic gem that makes me think he'd probably be a hell of a lot of fun outside the office. If I ever quit this place he will be the first person I proposition.

    I'm back!

    Did we miss me? I was sick yesterday. I will not describe the type of sick due to the delicate sensibilities of some of my readers; suffice to say, much time was spent staring at the catbox (located in the bathroom) and wondering why the heck I don't clean that thing more often. No wonder I don't have any friends. (Actually, it just occured to me that the friends I do have are supposedly "allergic" to cats and that that's why they never come over... hmmmmm.... It's all beginning to make a freakish sort of sense.....). Anyway, I'm here and I'm realizing that I have nothing interesting to say so I'll stop for now. Hopefully, by lunchtime the mind will kick into gear and the witticisms will just spew forth....

    Monday, June 16, 2003

    and then there's this. (Thank you CL.) O.K. Sorry. I'll stop. It's just that the list of ales made tea shoot out of my nose is all....

    "See, that's the problem with TV, not enough hot lesbo action."

    I know I should be working but just when i finally start getting into some juicy standards document this comes via the e-mail:

    and I must click and read. I have to, don't you understand, I have no choice....!!
    I need someone to get this then invite me over to watch it...
    I have got to get better about avoiding conversations with Boss #2 that begin "So, how was...?" Weekend, show, physical therapy -- whatever it was, it sucked and it will be complained about until my eardrums burst or I begin hallucinating about the woods behind my house, one of the places were lived when I was growing up. Mmmm, green, growing things....

    Tony was just standing here, looking all cute and fresh, and telling me that his parents watch golf on TV. (Well, that wasn't the only reason he stopped by but the rest of the conversation was work related and therefore not interesting to me). Anyways, it got me thinking... Do people actually care that much about golf? I called the Big Brother to get some corroboration here, and apparently they do.

    week-end part one

    Now this is bliss - went to Summertime in the park with Mr. Lovah Lovah et al. Fabulous time, fabulous weather, much fun was had by all (In a very low-key kind of way.) How beautiful is Miss K.?? I'm tellin' ya, M-Love needs to stay on his damn toes with that one. I mean, it'd be slightly more fair if she was dumb or something but super cute and super nice??! I ask you! The fabulous Miss S. was looking super-fine as well. Very much with the dressed to represent (Vancouver in da house, yo!) and the hair going flip and the pretty green eyes. Man, if this is what the gals from up north are looking like these days I needs to move out! Especially now that it's legal to be gay up there.

    "This is not a question of being nice. This is not a question of being a Liberal. This is a question of equality, of giving a people of a different orientation the same rights that I enjoy''

    I'm going to use that in a dinner conversation at some point. "this is not a question of being nice...!" (Of course, I'll pretend i made it up, I mean, what's the point of being an American if you can't usurp a good quote from the 'Nucks?)

    The kid and I had a fabulous time all week-end. The CP was being all accomodating 'n sheet so I got to have Miss Boo all day Sundee as well (that's right folks, four days straight!) I cannot even begin to tell you how cool it is to look at your kid first thing Sat. morning and not immediately think about the 2 hour date you have with the bridge and the drop-off and the going home alone thing scheduled for later that day. I am happy.

    Things I like about the new schedule:
  • Nice solid chunk of time to just freaking hang out with the kid
  • Saturdays and Sundays with Boo exploring the world
  • Knowing if Boo actually ate the lunch you made that morning

    (This is huge, BTW; that kid never eats but I had no idea the extent to which she doesn't eat. Friday she came home with one uneaten sandwhich, half a carton of milk, most of an apple and a full bag of carrots. which leads us to the fact that Miss Boo managed to subsist an entire day on a small bag of cheese nips and some pirate booty. Concerning but good to know.)

  • Getting to wind down together after we've been out and about all day. Sitting on the couch staring at the TV which none of us has the energy to get up and turn on -- priceless!

    Things I do not like about the new schedule:
  • I do not get to see my kid for three whole days!!!!!!

    In other news - some guy got shot right next to my house. Now, I know this sounds very weird but I don't feel all that weirded out by it. I mean, I live in Oakland - people get shot.

    The fact that it was right next door makes me slightly concerned about retaliatory violence and all of that but really, in the grand scheme of things, this shooting was very directed. The shooters rolled up on this guy, some girl he was with started screaming, they shot him and left. I guess what I'm trying to say here is that they didn't shoot randomly into the crowd, they weren't just bored and out looking for someone to kill and there hasn't been anything like that in my neighborhood in the three years since I've lived there.

    I dunno, I still feel relatively safe. I mean, of course i'm going to be a bit more on the look-out and of course I'm going to try to plan to keep my kid as away from what I perceive as unsafe situations as much as possible, but really, given what I can afford and what I need to do, my current set-up housewise is pretty much it (good-size, relatively secluded, safe, beautiful and, for the first time ever, relatively free of awful landlordness) I don't want to move... I bring all this up because my front neighbor was pretty freaked out and it got me to wondering if perhaps I was not quite freaked out enough. She actually saw/heard it happening so I'm sure it must have been a more visceral experience for her. I feel bad for her having to witness that. I feel bad for the person who died and for that person's family and kids and parents and friends. I feel bad but at the same time I don't personally feel any more threatened. CP was a champ about the whole thing though, cause I have to say part of what I was dreading most was having to justify living where I want to live to the kid's other mom.

    So, yesterday the kid and I have the following out-of-the-blue conversation:

    Boo: Mom, what do you want most in the world -- besides me [interesting that she can read my mind enough to know my initial answer]
    Me: Um, a baby sister for you.
    Boo: K., I'll make you a deal. You want a little sister right? If I get you a baby sister, soonish, you have to get me a cell phone.
    Me: What's "soonish"? Like in the next month?
    Boo: Yeah. In the next month.
    Me: Deal.
    Boo: Deal. Shake.

    I do not even know where this came from but I do know that if we get a placement in the next month, hand-to-god, my five-year-old's gonna be sportin' a pink Nokia!
  • Friday, June 13, 2003


    Me, only, not really...

    Living Arrangement: Great house in the middle of Oak-town. That's right, no cool "practically in Berkeley" address for me, thank you very much! Live with one fabulous kid (most times) and two small cats which frequently band together into one big cat.

    Favorite (non porn) Magazine: The Sun. No lie, it's a remarkable, well-written, expertly researched magazine. and Maxim., you know...

    Favorite (actually porn) Magazine: Almost anything I'm in. Except for TeenBikerSluts (they made my butt look big).

    Favorite Smells: The ocean, my kid and fresh bread.

    First Thought of the Morning: Must continue sleeping, I wonder if I'll get in trouble if I call in sick again today...

    Favorite Foods: Noodles and gravy.

    Favorite car: Currently tooling around in a red Ford truck with a camper shell. I hate it and it gets sucky mileage but I look really good getting in and out of it so it stays.

    Who I would want to meet: Eartha Kitt, Angelina Jolie, Milan Kundera, Lyle Lovett (oh please God, let me one day meet Lyle Lovett).

    Favorite (non porn) Movie: Slaves of New York (cinematic perfection -- kind of...).

    Dream Job: Something having to do with setting educational policy at a national level and people in high places kissing my ass.

    Glass half empty, or half full: No glass, just the juice, all over my workpants.

    Type with Fingers on the Right Keys: Yes. Unless I want to get things spelled correctly. Then, no.

    Under my bed: Crap.

    Hair Products in Use Today: Sebastian No. 9 -- I stand in awe of that simple orange liquid.

    "Here comes the Star of the masterpiece 'Anne of Green Gables'!"

    O.k. so I stole this from Ernie but it is just so rare that I am rendered completely speechless...

    The next time some boy tells me I'm gay because I "haven't met the right man yet" I'm not going to bite his head off. Reasons for this newfound empathy are as follows: I do the same thing. Often times I find myself looking at the ladies and thinking "You, honey, are only making due because you have no idea what it's like to be with the Chick!" Case in point: There's this girl here at work who I soooo want to be my Pretend Girlfriend. Usually, i'm good. Usually, I can go over to her cube and think helpful, business-ey thoughts while leaning over her desk and avoiding direct eye contact. But, sometimes, hand-to-god, I'm over there and she's all frustrated about something and she leans back in her ergonomic, roller chair and she smiles in some completely over-it kind of way and I just want to take her into the handicap stall, push her up against the wall and make her feel good. Again, I'm not saying I want to go meet her family or convince her to leave whatever excuse for a boyfriend she's got. I don't want to stay up all night giggling with her on the phone or massage her feet after a long hard day at the office; I just want to run my tongue over every visible part of her shivering body for a few minutes then I want to come back to my desk and get the hell to work; is that so wrong??

    Oh, the humanity!

    The lovefest last night was not to be believed! The hugs, the laughter, the sheer unadulterated bliss of it all (a tear or two may even have been shed...!) I'm telling you, people, you do not know what joy is until you pick up your kid after not seeing her for three whole days!! The world is once again a shiny happy place. Boo loves her room by the way. I know this because she said "Mommy, I love it!!" Seriously, who needs hard drugs when you've got a perfect kid around??

    I was thinking today (on the train, as i left Boo's camp where I will go tonight to pick her up!) about boys. I was wondering what it is that makes them so vulnerable seeming (at least to me) all the time. Even the assholes seem as though they're covering up for some need to just get snuggly with somebody. I know, I'm sounding all girly but I'm not talking about that kind of snuggly. Believe you me, I am the first to try to wriggle away when a situation starts getting all "let's just hold each other..." but there is definitly something to be said for the fact that I know of at least three people who I could just go have a total breakdown in front of and (while they may take photos for later use) they're not going to think anything but how to make me feel better. A kiss, a hug, a hair ruffle, maybe a well-placed kick in the behind, and I'm ready to get back up on that damn horse. Do boys have support systems like that? I'm not one for generalizations (Ha!) but it seems to me that part of the problem is that everyone goes all squirmy wierd when a boy has trouble keeping it all together (at least in this culture, amoung the gents I see - o.k. now I've gone and ruined what could have been a kick-ass declarative statement by puting a bunch of contextualizers on it! Damn grad school, what have you done to me??!) I dunno though. Maybe it's just me puting my girly filter on a social situation I just don't understand. Hmmmm.

    So, I'm on the train today and I notice that it's full of the best smelling people I think I've ever been around. Really good, homey smells, not all tarted up like the 38 Geary or Uber Egg-span-seeve/BodyShop Like the 1 California, just nice, soapy clean. There's a boy here at work who smells like that. whenever he stops by to chat, all fresh and pressed I think "Wow, how is it possible that you're always so very clean?" (Sometimes I think it in a slightly mean way but that's only because I've just noticed some bizzare stain on what looked like an acceptably clean, work-appropriate shirt after i've already arrived at work and have been hobnobbing for the better part of an hour. Boss #3 generally looks all pulled-together as well but in a different way. Like he thinks about it. well maybe not like he thinks about it alot or on a daily basis but like he knows what looks good on him and strives for that when out shopping. Tony (gonna call him Tony cause he's all "toney, toney" n' shit) just looks like everything he owns happens to be clean and free of holes. Interesting.

    Thursday, June 12, 2003

    Does anybody else think it's funny that I get e-mail with the subject line "Carmen, satisfy your lover by increasing your penis size 2-4 inches!!!" First off, my name's not Carmen...

    See, I'm flexible

    Lanky Canadian Boy (1:14:36 PM): LANKY CANADIAN BOY????
    Me (1:14:46 PM): hmmm??????
    Lanky Canadian Boy (1:14:51 PM): lanky???
    Me (1:14:51 PM): i'm sorry, who is this?
    Me (1:15:01 PM): at least i didn't say fat
    Lanky Canadian Boy (1:15:06 PM): true
    Lanky Canadian Boy (1:15:07 PM): ok
    Lanky Canadian Boy (1:15:10 PM): i'll let it go
    Lanky Canadian Boy (1:15:13 PM): :-)
    Me (1:15:24 PM): Sir James (if iever write about him) would be "Ernest Canadian Boy"
    Lanky Canadian Boy(1:15:37 PM): lol
    Lanky Canadian Boy(1:15:57 PM): can't i have a new name, like "God's gift from Canada"??
    Me (1:16:11 PM): Um, how about "The Lush"
    Me (1:16:27 PM): The Lanky Lush
    Lanky Canadian Boy (1:16:36 PM): about "Mistah Lova Lova"
    Me (1:16:51 PM): Ha! Very nice! And so it shall be...
    Mistah Lova Lova (1:17:00 PM): yay!

    the 'rents

    This is my dad:


    Me: Hello?
    Lil Bro: S'up!
    Me: Dude! How was Vegas??
    Lil Bro: Splendid! Your Dad says 'Hi'
    Me: How's the Pops?
    Lil Bro: Good. He's got a new girlfriend
    Me: MmmHmm [news, but not surprising]
    Lil Bro: Rich, lives in vegas. Cute.
    Me: MmmHmm [news, but not surprising]
    Lil Bro: Did he tell you about the vette?
    Me: Nope.
    Lil Bro: He got a 'vette.
    Me: MmmHmm [news, but not surprising]
    Lil Bro: Oh... and he was talking about his will and stuff.
    Me: [Long pause] Daddy?
    Lil Bro: Yeah.
    Me: Your Dad?
    Lil Bro: Yup.
    Me: has a will??
    Lil Bro: Yeah, we were talking about his will and where he wants to be buried and stuff. On our way to the gym.
    Me: [needing to sit down] Your Dad went to the gym?
    Lil Bro: Yeah.
    Me: [Long Pause]
    Lil Bro: I know.

    This is my mom:

    Lil Bro: Your mom got a new car.
    Me: Cool. What's it look like?
    Lil Bro: Just say it's purple. When you see her, it's purple.
    Me: It's purple?
    Lil Bro: No. it's kind of blue.
    Me: [Long Pause]
    Lil Bro: But tell her it looks purple. And mid-sized. It's a purple, mid-sized car.
    Me: k.



    Big Brother: Hel-lo?
    Me: hey.
    Big Brother: Hey, Little sis, what's up?
    Me: I heard Mom got a new car
    Big Brother: Yeah. when you see it, tell her it's purple...

    Wednesday, June 11, 2003

    BTW, lunch was fab! We discussed Other Girl at length. She sounds normal (which will not stop me from being violently jealous but at least DB may not get completely jerked around by this one.) He says she's got a potty mouth too, which is scary when you think about it. Two attractive young things (one skater, one emo) slouching around the town, swearing like sailors. Their children will be a delight!

    I was going to practice pool tonight but my teacher Buddy P hurt his back and can't come so I may just wuss out. Hurting one's back has got to be the suckiest type of physical ailment that can happen to one. Or if not the suckiest, at least a close second. I'm sorry you're hurt, Dude. Wish I could help. Since I cannot, I will instead, go home and watch bad TV while I eat noodles and think fat thoughts.
    Alone. On the couch. Missing my kid. Sigh. k. Just needed to take that moment. I'm fine now.


    I am sooo thrilled I can't even stand myself!
    test - trying to put in some comment functionality. Go about your business citizens, nothing to see here....

    How to survive at work - take 1

    Ramble. I just got into a super-long rambley conversation with Boss #3 and it was great! He's so cute. We went from stylesheets to Grandmothers to Boo to Kick Ass Project Manager Lady(who I have a massive crush on -- actually, at this point, who don't I have a crush on??) Boss #2 is sitting in her little area nattering away to someone else, which in the grand scheme of things is excellent because it means she's leaving me the hell alone.... it' wierd; it's not that she's all that different from Boss #3, it's just that for some reason when she's being wierd it bugs me but when B-3 is being wierd, even if it's in the exact same way, I just blow it off.... Hmmmm... someday I will try to analyze why that is. Not today though. Today I will intensely dislike B-2 and have that be o.k.
    Whoo Hoo! Dirty Boy is going to have lunch with me! He says he's not going to kiss me anymore because 1) He's getting all committed to some other girl who's not me and 2) He's still got his panties in a twist about the cold sore reference but whatever. He's easy on the eyes and I needs some distraction right this second. Sux though, cause with the new schedule not to mention the other random creeping signs of total disinterest, I don't think Beautiful Boy is going to kiss me anymore either. (!!) Where am I going to get my kissing from?! Oh, well, I hear that there are moments in real life where kissing just doesn't happen. Perhaps we will explore that for awhile.

    In other news, LC and crew are going to be hanging with us in the park on Father's day which will be nice. Lanky Canadian Boy is going to try to be all upstanding n' shit cause he wants Boo to respect him. Ha! He says he's not going to drink or swear that whole day. I personally think it's sweet of him to think it but im also going to be ready for the hasty exit should his life suddenly necesitate a chronic binge. Hey, I've seen the photos/video, I know how he gets. ;-]


    You know, i woke up this morning in a significantly better mood than i was in most of yesrterday and I just have to say I am most fortunate in having the world's best landscape peeps as neighbors. I stumbled out the door this morning and, my God, my front yard (which is tended to and arranged by the fabulous Tall One, partner in crime to the also very cool Small One) is beautiful! There are plants and flowers and beautiful rocks doing attractively arranged things all over the place. Me likes. I especially like that none of us thinks even for a moment that i'm going to be seriously responsible for any part of the design/upkeep. I mean, the Tall One occassionally throws me a bone -- she was very effusive when i managed to get a bunch of smooth stones poured into a mostly rectangular shape -- but we all know who's Queen of the yard at our joint digs. Yay, landscape artists! We *heart*.....

    Tuesday, June 10, 2003

    Yay, the Lanky Canadian is back from his trip down south, and not a second too soon! He's all rested and tanned and happy-like... Yay, I say! We have big plans to go see the new Rugrats movie with Miss Scout (who, by the way, before she got annoyed with me and the CP and this whole new schedule thing requested that she be henceforth referred to as "Boo". In this, as with most things, her wish is my command). Above and beyond all of that, I now REALLY want to see Pirates of the Caribbean but since Miss Boo is not quite old enough and I no longer have immediate access to a ten-year-old, I'm not sure how I'm going to swing it. I may just bite the bullit and go see it by myself in another town. I like having my LC back. It's nice having someone who thinks Boo is just as bees-kneesish as I do, to go on and on (and on) about when she's upset with me and I'm sad and missing her and not going to see her for three more days!! o.k. I'll stop. Welcome back, LC, don't ever leave again!

    from Dirty Boy (6/9/2003):

    "Nice lesbo interaction! I think you may actually be regressing. what're you now, 12? My week-end was good. got laid. ate some sort of shellfish. Miss you. You never call, you never write...."

    This sucks!

    I hate the new schedule! I miss my kid! Wah!!

    Monday, June 09, 2003

    So how was *your* weekend?

    My goodness, my week-end was freaking packed with things and people to do and see! To begin, I spent the day at the Play-parenting workshop at Mocha which i had fairly high expectations of but which quickly (and i suppose predictably) dissolved into every other "meet n' greet" the world of the "aware gay" has ever produced. What is it with us gay people and our need to devulge our entire life stories when asked for a simple "Tell us your name and something about yourself"?? throw in "Where you are in the process" and/or "some of your experiences with your child" and it's all over but the singing as they say. Still though, it was not a total loss. The time we were all together (with the kids) was nice. Although, I have to say, for a place that's supposedly all about children's art the "mural painting" time was alot more "directed" than I had anticipated it would be. Here's me thinking that since this was a kid produced product then maybe the kids could choose what it should look like/how it should be colored but apparently what the Directress meant by "kid-produced" was that "I tell you what to paint and you [the child] paint it. That is unless you're to small to paint within the lines at which point I'll ask you to move 'outside the space' so another, more controlled child can realize my vision." I did get a cool book though and the Scout seemed to have a good time so, it all turned out fine. (Ha! while i was looking for a link to the parenting book I came across this one which leads us to our next topic...

    so, on my way out of the Mocha gig with my fifty-three children in tow, I hear my name being called and lo and behold there are three cute young dykes smiling largely at me and I have no idea who they are! Isn't that great! They don't call me Chick Magnet for nothing! anyway, I am pathetic and I suck and apparently i've met them all before and they're talking as if I remember and I'm hemming and hawing and have two squirmy babies who've just been buckled in so i throw around a few business cards and plead with them all to please "stay in touch," so we can "hang out" and it isn't until they've smiled and hugged off on thier merry way that I finally (finally) remember who the hell they are/were. Ole Blue Eyes was the current of the Aussie , CP's Ex one removed from me, if that makes any sense. The Aussie has since returned to her native clime but I gather they (she and Blue Eyes)still correspond. Hip Young Thing I met one afternoon at CP's whilst she was shooting one of her many films and the other, Serious AIDS Ride Girl I met in the company of one or the other of them a few months earlier. Why am I so lame? Second, why, whenever I meet gals of the lesbian persuation, these days, do I instantly think "I bet they'd really like T" How tortured and guilty am I that I'm still trying to fix her up with someone who won't trash her heart?? Whatever. No ladies for me, thank you very much. I am all about the babies....

    Segue #2 - Speaking of which, I also found out at the get-together that the big matching meeting I was being depressed about because I hadn't heard from anybody at the agency isn't happening until this coming Wed. Fingers once again crossed, world, let's make this happen! In a fit of something I spent all day yesterday making Scout's room into a duo-kid space. I'm actually pretty excited with how it turned out although I spent way too much money at IKEA (that place is frightening, yet, still I continue to go...)

    I'm soooo ready to just have that darn kid. sigh. I'm sure a huge part of it has to do with me being over work and having nothing else that really excites me about my current life (except for Scout. She always excites me. I can't think about her right now though because we're starting the new schedule and I already miss her and I'm not scheduled to see her until Thursday evening! I think I'm going to try to worm my way into their evening tonight. P'raps dinner... hmmmmm......)

    Anyway, that was the week-end. Let me know how yours went (use the "talk-to-me" link at right) and I'll post it here for the world's perusal.

    Friday, June 06, 2003

    It's a friends blog!

    I got a card in the mail yesterday from the fabulous Miss Bee ,mother no. 1 to the twins and the unbelievably fab Lil' LB, (For those of you new to my world, Miss Bee ought not be confused with the other Miss B, her partner in crime who is really more of a "Ms." B and who, while being equally fabulous, did not send me a card.) Can I just say, I heart my friends! There's Miss Bee, sitting in the coffee shop with her brood of fifteen all needing to be attended to and she thinks to not only write me a jaunty little note but also manages to get a stamp on it and throw it in the mail!! I stand in awe. A sweet note too. We wuv! Then, this week-end I get to watch the best friend's child who is also quite spectacular. We're going to this big foster parent training at MOCHA where for some reason the kids and the parents are split up into separate workshops (why do people do that??) so, while my babies are guaranteed a good time I'm actually losing out on the "hang-time" with them. whatever. The best friend and her esteemed partner aren't going anywhere anytime soon so i spose I'll be able to steal aforementioned child some other week-end..... How thrilled am i that all my buddies have cool kids right now? Very, that's how!

    In other news.... went to go check out Scout's summer camp. More "Self-centeredness and You!" instruction from the CP but I practiced my Zen breathing and we all came through it with hardly a scratch. I did realize on the way home, though, that part of my issue with CP is that I think she should be on her knees every waking minute of the day thanking the God almighty that she was blessed with such a super-riffic kid and she thinks more in terms of "Oh, I didn't realize until right this second here at the orientation meeting that I would have to drive an extra ten minutes every day to get my child to her really kick-ass camp. Hmmmm. Why did 'we' [meaning me] rule out the camp across the street from my house again? [Expensive, too old for our kid, and with four weeks of swimming -- Scout can barely be persuaded to run through the sprinklers]" I did not scream. I sat. I mused. I found my happy place. I channeled Budda. Anyway, enough of that. Back to my friends. I'm lonely today because the Lanky Canadian is off on some obscure jaunt down the coast -- again, I'm not sure why these people think they can just desert me on a whim but rest assured, jobs will be lost...! (Best friend keeps pulling the same thing where she's off to the spa for the week-end with Chick number 2, Lalalala... "Relaxation", she calls it! I call it "out of range should i need her sorry ass!!!" and don't give me this "works incredibly hard on socially concious issues, trying to move into a bigger place, raise a child and negotiate two relationships" crap! Tell it to the Marines!) So, there you have it. Lanky Canadian out in sun with pretty girlfriend. Me stuck in office with Boss number 3 (who's not so bad, actually), hoping Boss number 2 stays home sick again today.

    Thursday, June 05, 2003

    And now I'm in a good mood again! I love my Big Brother! Seriously, how is it that a fifteen minute conversation with the guy who stole my M&M's for years be so fulfilling? Dunno. But I heart you bro'. Keep on keepin' on...


    Well, the graduation was fun. I *heart* Joanne!! (one of Scout's classmate's mums) She's all Long Island and stuff. With the big emotions and the "Don worry about dit!" I love her! Sigh, so, I'm back and I'm tired. In one of those wierd moods that only CP can spark. I've been mad at her on and off for the last five years and it's not getting better. Usually (always) it's the "totally self-centered" thing -- the complete refusal to just do something for someone else if she can't see how it benefits her. so today we're being all uber co-parenty and she announces that she's not going to do something (i forget what) and that she's self-centered but "o.k. with it." I just don' know. It seems to me that I'm going to have to learn to deal with it since I'm stuck with her for the next 15 years (although, thank GOD for Sarah doing girlfriend duty. I don't what I'd do if I had to be invested in the rest of the woman's life) ... thing is She's not always awful. And she's a damn good co-parent. It just the selfish thing that kills me. Sigh. Oh well. the cermony was sweet, my kid is a princess and it's all over for the next little bit so.... If anybody knows how to make this stuff not matter so much, let me know...

    Pulling teeth

    Why is talking to Boss Number 1 so much like pulling teeth?? Sheesh, he sits in his office all day long dreaming up new and ingenius ways to irritate us then he goes all wounded puppy when someone has the audacity to quit for a better postition where they might, heaven forbid, actually get a raise (not to mention some respect)...! whatever.... I need to not let him get to me. It's just that every single time I talk to him it feels like a goddamn audit "so, how's school? It's finished right? and the kid, you expect her when? So, you're probably going to be able to do full-time this summer...?" I mean, if I thought for a second that he actually cared it'd be different but all he's thinking about is his stupid quarterly earnings.... o.k. breathe.... I will not let the bastard get me down. I will remember that he is a small, miserable little man with a failing business and a wife who is way too much woman for him... There. I feel much better now. I'm off in 47 minutes to attend the kid's grad ceremony! I intend to videotape, photograph and/or transcribe every single second of it onto a shimmering fabric woven from Jason's golden fleece... or maybe not. depends on how i'm feeling.

    Wednesday, June 04, 2003

    and another thing

    I also just wanted to say I think it is interesting that Dirty Boy didn't mind the "kisses like an animal" reference. Veeeerry interesting, indeed...

    "Hurry up and wait" still...

    Just got off phone with the Caseworker. He is a study in being encouraging while at the same time completely non-commital.

    Highlights from this particular conversation:

    "Good news! We're having a training that you should probably come to since we'll probably be seeing something come up for you fairly soon."

    "I should probably schedule another visit to the house just in case we get a bite this time. Hmmmmm. How about early next month?"

    "You're at the top of the list at this agency but then again, since you're looking for a younger child you'll probably be up against several other families on thier side."

    AAAARRRRGGGGGGG! There are 70,000 waiting children in the California Foster Care System. I just want one. Sigh. Oh well, good things come to those who've abandoned all hope. We shall persevere.

    In other news, i just found out my Big Brother is planning to participate in a triathalon in Hawaii. My first question is, of course, why even go to Hawaii if you're just going to torture yourself once you get there. Jason is also trying to get to Hawaii. Go visit his donations page and give him lots of money. (Technically it's going to the AIDS Project LA , so even if you don't feel like doing something just because I say so and/or you don't know him from Mathilda's second cousin, donate anyway, it's a good cause!)

    One day old and already in trouble

    Let me begin with a retraction. in yesterday's post I made up names for some boys I know. While I stand by my naming convention I admit that someone unfamiliar with the gentlemen in question may be led to certain assumptions that may not be true. That said, let me here state for the record that while I chose the alias "Beautiful Boy" specifically because the lad I'm referring to has long golden hair, super-pretty eyes and a slammin' physique, I did NOT in any way mean to imply that the person of "Dirty Boy" is at all below standard accepted levels of cleanliness and/or hygiene. In fact, I would have to say that my buddy DB's sleek little skater body is almost too clean -- the word "squeaky" leaps to mind. The reason I chose that particular nom de plume for my darling angel is because, quite simply, I don't think I've ever met an individual with his mind so firmly lodged in the gutter. That's all. Deny it if you will, DB but despite your butter-wouldn't-melt exterior, you are a filthy, degenerate and everybody knows it. Let me also state, for the record, that I in no way meant to imply that my Dirty Boy has any known comunicable diseases. All I'm sayin' is every time we make out I break out. Conclude what you will.

    Whew! Man, this whole anonymous thing is harder than I thought. I'm going to have to come up with a better naming convention. Speaking of which, my bub who shall henceforth be referred to as "Scout", is graduating Kindergarten tomorrow and I am so excited I can't even stand myself! Missy Scout, You are super huge and super-splendid and I can't even begin to think what I could have done in this life or the last to deserve such a great little girl but there you go. In other child news, there's a huge matching meeting at the agency today so i may just get a "possible placement" this time around. Not holding my breath or anything because then I would pass out and potentially miss a whole bunch of work-related tet-a-tetes but... gosh, it would be nice to know who our second bub is going to be.... anyways. More later, after I've swallowed a vat of coffee.

    Tuesday, June 03, 2003

    Inappropriate conversations - take 1

    So, anyway, I started this thing primarily because I am feeling this need to engage in wildly inappropriate conversation with my peeps at work. like to the point where I'm forcing them to listen to my ramblings well after the point where they've indicated in no uncertain terms that they are Not interested/passed out. Today I'm wanting to discuss my lip. My lip freakin hurts. It hurts because I let it be chewed on by two (yes, two) boys this week-end. Not sure what I was thinking with either of them but whatever. I'm pretty sure it was the second of the two who shall heretofore be known simply as Dirty Boy and not the first, Beautiful Boy (since it seems as though we now have a theme on our hands). The fact that there was lip chewing at all is remarkable given that I'm pretending to be a lesbian but, since THE BREAK-UP, ladies have got me wicked spooked and a girl's got needs dammit! I think Dirty Boy is responsible for the soreness because a) he is a freaking animal when it comes to kissing (I'm scared to try anything else -- I don't want to get hurt) and b) every single time we make out I get a massive cold sore eruption. (I know, sexy, but true). Beautiful Boy did his fair share of chewing as well and I was a tiny bit tipsy so I may have been getting a bit more banged up than i thought but still... My lip HURTS!
    well, here we go! As I'm sure every single blogger in the whole wide world has declared upon setting out to chart the ins and outs of thier mostly pathetic lives, I'm new to this, folks, so bear with me.
    First let say that I'm just not seeing any kind of chat/post comment feature so, for now, if you have anything you need me to hear drop me a line. Second, i know i tried to do this whole blogging thing a few years ago and it didn't quite stick so...we'll see how well i do this time around!