Serial Blogonomy

2005-04-28T20:36:00.000-04:00

I know that I've grown more and more conservative over time, but this is big.

George W. Bush talked in public and hasn't pissed me off once

(Yet.)

Shhhhhh. It's a secret.

P.S. More on children's day later. All went off without a hitch. Kiernan looks forward to a future career as an NYPD sketch artist.

Take Your Little Monster Adorable Child To Work Day

2005-04-27T19:46:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow is the famous day of the children and the working place. In my eagerness to appear enthusiastic and score brownie points in my new work digs, I have inadvertently gotten roped into chaperoning an activity for 36

(AAAAAHHHHH! YES, THIRTY SIX!!!!)

nine and ten year olds, one of whom is my "thinks-he's-my-freakin'-peer-only-child-syndrome-poster-child" little angel. I've also managed to involve Tim in the donations of the pastry and caffeine variety. Those brownie points better be a comin', yo.

But seriously. I finangled (is that a word?) three of my boys to pose as perps for the "activity" portion (as opposed to the sugar induced gyrations portion) of the event, mostly by convincing them that the hot chicks from the 4th floor looooove kids and would be there all day. This is the general idea: The kiddies get together, get told about a crime that just went down in a park on the west side (about a three block walk away) get shown the mugshots, and get told they have to go surveil the suspects. We all parade through Tribeca toward the park. Chaos ensues, children are lost, I get personally sued. The end.

No, no! Just kidding about that part! Seriously. We get to the park, where the boys are undercover, and the children assault them. Fun had by all. Playground time. The end. Hmmmm. Perhaps we should have planned this better?

No, really. It'll be fun. The big upside is that we're allowed to wear jeans (yay! Jeans!). The downside is that I ran out to buy a new pair over the weekend, which fit perfectly well at the time, but now have that suspicious tight rolly thing where my waist is supposed to be. Boooooo.

The additional upside is that my boss won't be in. He claims his court order won't allow him to be around children. I haven't decided yet whether I believe him or not.

No, no! Just kidding! No, really. I'm not sure. Shit. Don't people get fired for blogging?

Venus in an Airbrushed Mani

2005-04-26T22:40:00.000-04:00

Kiernan couldn't sleep last night. It's spring break, so it didn't really matter. Except for the constant

"I can't wait! I can't wait! Nidia's coming over!"

Nothing drains parental self esteem like a fully loaded, brunette mane-ed, big brown eyed hunk-a-twenty one year old latina babysitter. Especially when she'll sit down and make lego inventions with your kid and play Grand Turismo III better than you could have ever, ever dreamed. Kiernan actually cried after her first session, wailing

"But I'll never SEE YOU AGAIN!"

Guess it's safe to chalk him up as heterosexual. Hell, the guys at work are jealous.

Oh, and thank you all for your warm welcome back. The structure of having something to do while your baby and your baby daddy become absorbed with the Ramones documentary on PBS and shoo you away every time you dare to utter some silly thing or another is immeasurable. It's good to be back.

Also, this blog shouldn't have "More Pedro!" anymore, cause my boy had an off night. Stupid Smoltz. Stupid Wright/Piazza/Floyd-pop-fly-last-out giving me hope in the bottom of the ninth. Grrr.

Boooo.

(Just kidding. Let's Go, Mets!)

She's Baaaa-aaack...

2005-04-25T10:23:00.000-04:00

Tentatively, that is.

On a rare weekday off (due to Kiernan's ridiculous number of vacation days - hey, city of New York, how's about giving us parents a few days off, too?) I have found myself meandering back in to blog mode for the first time, in, oh, three months (?!).

Therefore, I am prepared to becme addicted once more to that insidious, horrible thing they call THE BLOG (isn't that like the star trek thing? No? It's borg? Okay, while I'm still a dork, I'm not THAT huge of a dork.)

In my first radical departure from my former bloggy life, I have reduced my blogroll to things that I actually read. Why did you think I kept the page up for so long? I'm too lazy to bookmark these things myself, you know.

2005-01-28T23:33:00.000-05:00

I got it, I got it, I got it(!)... and went out for pitchers of Sam Adam's with the boys. My boys? Yeah, they got it too. Good for them and me.

Let's get this straight. I'm a boy's girl. I like hanging out with guys who discuss football and critique women. Because they're less judgemental and catty and BAD than most women I've met. Don't get me wrong -- I get along just fine with other women-who-like-men. Women who are happy to be one of the boys. I'm that girl. That said, I got the division I wanted, which makes me happy. And so did my boys ( like I told them -- "my man is at home, but my boys? My boys are right here!" Um, let me add that "right here" was a horribly overpriced West Village bar, but that we were able to get 2 pitchers of Sammy for $15 bucks at a time. And that at least one of my "boys" is 20 years older than me -- but he's SMOOTH, yo. Life is good on the ol' fraud squad.)

Eden's little quizzle might sort things out for those of ya'll who might still be confused.

Wackiness: 38/100
Rationality: 40/100
Constructiveness: 38/100
Leadership: 66/100

You are a SEDL--Sober Emotional Destructive Leader. This makes you a Dictator.

You prefer to control situations, and lack of control makes you physically sick. You feel have responsibility for everyone's welfare, and that you will be blamed when things go wrong. Things do go wrong, and you take it harder than you should.

You rely on the validation and support of others, but you have a secret distrust for people and distaste for their habits and weaknesses that make you keep your distance from them. This makes you very difficult to be with romantically. Still, a level-headed peacemaker can keep you balanced.

Despite your fierce temper and general hot-bloodedness, you have a soft spot for animals and a surprising passion for the arts. Sometimes you would almost rather live by your wits in the wilderness somewhere, if you could bring your books and your sketchbook.

You also have a strange, undeniable sexiness to you. You may go insane.

Finger Crossing

2005-01-27T20:00:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow is IT! The DAY!

Tomorrow my training is over -- that's right, o-vah -- and I'm really really psyched up to get my assignment, which I really really hope is one thing as opposed to this other thing and, well... just keep your fingers crossed for me, okay?

And now, training homework and takeout food (the ever healthful sausage and pepper heros form the place around the corner. New Year's resolutions? What New Year's resolutions?). And the lovely, lovely so-escapist-I-forget-that-my-brain-hurts Apprentice. Thank you, Donald.

I Heart My Borough

2005-01-25T19:45:00.000-05:00

A Bronx Cheer
Mitch Keller, New York Times, Sunday 1/23/05

(Follow link for full article)

Let's face it: The Bronx, though many of us love it and are happy to live in it, though it has a greatness and even a grandeur evident to all but the unseeing, is Nowheresville to those who care about address and appearances. There is not an arriviste alive who aspires to have "Bronx, N.Y." as an official address. The folks back home in Harrisburg would not be impressed.

The Bronx is, in fact, a place that many thousands of people have aspired only to escape. It shows up in the "humble beginnings" part of the American success story, never in the "glorious arrival" part (baseball excluded). What is an essential fact that celebrity fandom knows about people like Ralph Lauren, J. Lo and Colin Powell? Sure, they started in the Bronx, but they made it out...

I'm a 10463 Riverdalian, but when people ask me where I live, I say the Bronx. Why would I want to conceal my association with a place that has the Grand Concourse, City Island, the botanical garden, the world's most famous zoo, Fordham University, the real Little Italy, Yankee Stadium and more park space than any other borough?

When I have time to kill, what am I supposed to do? Ogle the opulence on upper Independence Avenue? I'd rather take the bus to Arthur Avenue and ogle the olive oils and cheeses. You can buy an excellent cigar in the market there that they make right in front of you. Or maybe I'll stroll down to 231st Street and Broadway in Kingsbridge for a pastrami sandwich or a slice...

OCCASIONALLY, in conversation with New Yorkers who know the city well and to avoid sounding disingenuous, I do say I live in Riverdale. But most of the time it's simply "the Bronx." That is also the address I give when I travel, when I'm talking to people in a roadhouse down South or checking in at some rural motel out West. In those places the words "Bronx, New York" almost always elicit a double take, for there is not an American alive who does not recognize them and, thanks mainly to movies and television, have a strong idea of the place they stand for. Inevitably there is a remark like: "Wow. The Bronx, huh?"

I try to be on my best behavior with these people - friendly, generous, attentive. I have found that saying I'm from the Bronx gives me a sense of almost emissarial responsibility. People from "New York" are everywhere, and people everywhere are used to them. It doesn't mean much.

But the Bronx - that is a statement. That's a friendly poke in the jaw. That snaps Wyoming moteliers wide awake late at night. That makes me a representative of two separate places I like a great deal, New York City and the underappreciated, often ridiculed borough I live in. It seems important to behave accordingly.

2005-01-23T15:55:00.000-05:00

Oh, and, um,

Patriots!

Thanks.

STATE! OF! EMERGENCY!

2005-01-23T14:18:00.000-05:00

Psahw.

Yeah, yeah, New York got two feet of snow. And has approximately 20 gazillion miles of roads, and only twelve snowplows. Yes, yes, I undersatnd.

But if I see one more concerned newscaster telling us how to dress for the snow, I'm going to vomit. Or at least throw things at the television. You don't know enough to wear a hat in 18 degree weather? Then you deserve frostbite, dumbfuck.

I'm from Buffalo, people. Two feet of snow?! An average weekend.

Pussies.

2 Feet of snow in NYC? Hell, may as well blog!

2005-01-22T17:11:00.000-05:00

Oh, Donald.

After careful and repeated viewing (I missed the first half hour of the premier, so I caught the rerun last night) I have concluded that the face of the Apprentice, one Donald Trump, is a friggin' genius.

Sure, it was kind of boring and formulaic and you just knew the PM of the Book Smarts was gonna get it, since they made cleverly tried to mislead you into believing crackpot Danny was a goner. But it was like a trainwreck - you just can't stop watching.

High points?

Street Smart: The trashy, cheap highlights in the street smart girls' hair. And the bulldog peeing on that annoying blonde.

Book Smart: The glorious gathering of self indulgent pampered whiny people. Mocking the privileged NEVER goes out of style.

I normally loathe reality shows. But the Donald? The Donald, he knows what the people love.

Eden posted this little piece o' meme, and I thought, stealing! Why not?

What color is most reflective of you?What does THAT mean? Red? I guess? But not really, since the mom-career-life isn't quite as evocative of passion and fire as it could be... Taupe? I'm stumped.

How did you get the idea for your journal name? "Serial Blogonomy", as you might have guessed, is a play on serial monogamy. Since I've spent the last decade involving myself with and scurrying away from unfortunate long term boyfriends, I found it apt. These days, though, it could probably use some revision. Those days are further and further away all the time.

What time were you born? 11:31 p.m.

What song are you playing now, or wish you were playing? I'm listening to "selected Shorts" on NPR. But if I were going to chose some music, I'd probably put in Tim's limited edition Velvet Underground disc.

Has the death of a celebrity ever made you cry? As if.

What color underwear are you wearing? Hee hee... um, laundry colored. Take that as you will.

Do you want a baby? Nope, no sir, we've already got some, thanks. Actually, I had my tubes tied a couple of years ago.

What does your dad do for a living? He's a University librarian.

What does your mom do for a living? She was a medical transcriptionist, but I think she's made a career change to "professional wife". Yeah. Actually, I wouldn't really know - my mom's not big on communication. At least, communication with the satan's spawn known as Katie who must've accidentally crawled from her womb. Don't ask; I don't get it either.

What is your pet's name? MAX!

What color are your bedsheets? Dog hair chic. Ha! No, really, green flannel. Um, with a sprinkle of dog hair. Just a few. Seriously. I'm not as disgusting as you think I am.

What are the last 3 digits of your phone number?
Who wants to know?

What was the last concert you attended? I don't remember. Neil Young? Wait, we didn't go to that. Bar shows don't count... Seriously. I don't know. It was a long time ago, anyway. Maybe Phish? Don't laugh at me.

Who was with you? If it really WAS Phish, probably my ex-boyfriend Peter the drunken jackass. That's his real name.

What was the last movie you saw? In the theatre, Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou. On DVD, Tadpole (kind of a self indulgent prep school catcher in the Rye esque Upper East Side Story, but with sex. It was better than my description makes it sound.)

Who do you dislike most at this moment? I've recently been struck with a case of renewed hatred for my old boss, Paige. I think it was brought on by my fabulous new job and the nurturing, teaching management style, which she didn't know so much about.

What food are you craving right now? Tangy mustard sauce.

Did you dream last night? No, I hardly ever dream, unless it's disturbing and bizarre.

What was the last tv show you watched? American Chopper. Tim made me do it.

What is your fave piece of jewelry? The necklace Tim got me for my birthday. It's awesome - in a bohemian kind of way. Freshwater pearls. Buddha face. Awesome.

What is to the left of you? A dog-hair encrusted futon.

What was the last thing you ate? Toasted bagel with a schmear.

Who is your best friend of the opposite sex? Timmy coco puffs.

Write a song lyric that's in your head? None at the moment.

Who last imed you? My mother. I think we uninstalled the im after that.

Where is your significant other right now? Mopping the kitchen floor. After working all morning. Ha! I DO know how to pick 'em!

Do you have a crush? Not so much... unless you count Jon Stewart...

What shampoo do you use? Loreal Vive for curly hair. Yeah, it's low rent and not from a salon. Go ahead, kill me.

When was the last time you cut your hair? I trimmed the split ends a couple of weeks ago. But it's really long, so I rarely, rarely go in to get it cut.

Are you on any meds? Nada.

Do you have a mental disease? Let me count...

What shirt are you wearing? Lilac long sleeved t-shirt. Hoodie.

What time is it? 5:04 pm.

What color is your razor? turquoise and white.

What is your fave frozen treat? Iccceeee crrreeeeaaammm....

Are you sexy? Puh-leeeeaaze. Of course I'm sexy.

What's your favorite shopping store?Old Navy. Not because I like their stuff the best. Because I'm cheap, and my heart does a little flutter every time I see a sign that says "$20" next to a stack of jeans.

Are you thirsty? Um, yes, I do believe that was a twelve pack Mr. Duffy brought home before he started mopping the floor... ahem...

Can you imagine yourself ever getting married? Probably sooner rather than later. Which will amaze anyone who's known me any length of time.

2005-01-19T20:59:00.000-05:00

I've been remiss. I've abandoned you all.

Okay, okay, so I've been around... lurking on my own blog. And I noticed a hit explosion - and that a lot of those hits were coming from Tony, so thanks, Tony.

How do these people with fulfilling careers and family and a dog who freaks out every time you walk in the door deal with the regularity of the updating type thing? How does that happen? I'm dead when I come home, people. Dead.

Did I also mention that I'm depressed? Yes, I'm extremely depressed over one

Doug Brien

that field goal missing, making-the-Jets-lose schmuck. No, not really. Actually, I'm psyched about the Pats pounding the Steelers soon. It's the New England roots talking (remember my Red Sox phase? Thank God football is so short and sweet. Seriously.)

Also, a brand spanking new Fredonia New York native has a blog, and here it is. (Hi, Jo!)

Also also, I found out that I'm Wil Wheaton's long lost sister. And a lot of secret stuff about how people defraud New York City Social Services... but I can't tell ypu about that. But it's a lot. Hence, the dead tiredness. Okay, okay, a little -- did you know that prescription drug fraud through Medicaid is on par with actual illegal narcotics trafficing? Expensive AIDS medications and such. It's fucking amazing how much effort people put into crime - if they directed so much thought toward a legitimate career, they'd be CEO of Microsoft... or Halliburton... or, say, President. Weird.

Your Famous Blogger Twin is Wil Wheaton

You're a friendly, funny guy (or girl) next door
With more than a touch of geekiness

Who's Your Famous Blogger Twin?

34, My Ass

2005-01-13T22:05:00.000-05:00

You Are 34 Years Old

34

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe.

13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world.

20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences.

30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more!

40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

Yes, yes, I'm old before my time. Thanks go to Jen (for the link, not the premature aging).

But the Real Age calculator says I'm 27. Go figure.

Work: 40 hours per week
Commute: 12 hours per week (and counting)
Homework with the kid: 8 hours per week
Sleep: 56 hours per week
Bill for After School Program: $350
Ordering out because nobody's inspired enough to cook: $60 per week

Getting that pretty, pretty paycheck for the first time?

Priceless.

I Heart Girly Football Players

2005-01-09T13:52:00.000-05:00

You have to love it when your team wins, even if they play like girly men.

Enjoy it 'till you hit Pittsburgh / Boston, boys.

J-E-T-S Jets Jets Jets!

Saturdays = Good

2005-01-08T15:30:00.000-05:00

Before I begin, I just want to let Eden know that everyone is special.

Jets madness! Or not so much. I'm looking forward to seeing my team disappointingly lose their away playoff game this evening at 8:00. They were so good when they started... damn you, Chad Pennington's rotater cuff. Expect drunken disillusioned sports posts later this evening. They're saying 26-14 Chargers right now. Bleh.

Oh - but it's the weekend! And I was able to sleep past 6:30 am, which is always, ALWAYS a good thing. And I love my job. Nothing is better than having days off and actually looking forward to going back to work. And being 2 degrees from Kevin Bacon. Oh, and helping your kid set up his new Hot Wheels loop-deloop set, and playing cars all day (yes, I was THAT little girl, the one who had Hot Wheels and Star Wars toys and horribly mutilated her Barbies.) Being a parent is a great excuse to play with toys and not be accused of regressing.

Urbanimania

2005-01-04T19:05:00.000-05:00

Ha! The whole Urbaniak family is totally reading my blog. Better start posting something good, eh?

Katie:

Hi, I'm James Urbaniak's wife. James just told me the story of coming across your blog. (FYI he came to your site while searching for reviews of the play he's in at Lincoln Center: turns out his name and the word "rivals" appeared on the same page of your blog.) He was amused by your post and in no way took offense, but for the life of him can't recall why he would have been near 77th and Lexington that day in October. He laughed out loud as I read your apology. None needed, he says, and hello to Linus. James will be appearing in a one-man play, "Thom Pain (Based on Nothing)" starting the end of January 2005 and running through April. Okay, I'm not promising the character is entirely non-creepy, but he's not without charm.

Best,
julie

P.S. I guess you missed his turn on L&O as the perv who set up hidden toilet cameras. My parents were proud...

I love the internets. Oh, and you should really make it to Lincoln Center to check out The Rivals, and after that, get your fine theater loving self to see Thom Pain at DR2. (Oh, and follow the link - there's a picture for those of you who have no clue whatsoever what I'm talking about. Just picture him in glasses. There you go. Now you, too, can recognize James Urbaniak, my new best friend. I'd go see the show, but I have a kid, and that makes me automatically broke. You all pick up my slack.)

Damn You, Curtis Martin

2005-01-02T16:00:00.000-05:00

Aaahrrg!

I still have to do laundry today. It's 4:00. The Soap Opera, my beloved Laundromat down the street, is only open till 6:00 or something on Sundays. And those damned, damned Jets sucked me in.

It's soooo close.... such a good game, Jets against the Rams, currently 26-21 Jets with 7 minutes in the 4th... Yowza. Also, it's the decisive game for the playoffs. Curse you, Jets! Why must your athleticism compel me so? I need clean dress pants! DAMN YOU!

*Update - The Jets will still have a spot in the playoffs if the Bills lose against the Steelers, and with 2 minutes left on the clock out there, it looks like they might go no matter WHAT happens in the next seven minutes. Maybe I'll have clean clothes this week after all.

Happy 2005!

2005-01-01T15:40:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year!

Birthdaymas/New Year's Eve steak fest at the Old Homestead radically transformed into fish & chips and Maker's Mark at One and One. This was a direct result of our realization that "Hey, old school steakhouses want a lot of money when you go there! Trendy East Village Irish pubs? Not so much!" (And Paul the bartender was probably a lot cooler than the career waiters across town, anyway.)

We also went to see The Life Aquatic, which I enjoyed, but with these disclaimers:

(1) If you like that sort of Wes Anderson, Coen brothers quirky dry comedy thing, you'll like this.
(2) (1) applies if and only if you are not such a rabid fan of Wes Anderson's that you mercilessly compare this film to his others. If you can meet both requirements, go see the film - you'll dig it.

In the tradition of parents celebrating New Year's with no babysitter everywhere, we had a few beers, let the rugrat stay up to watch the ball drop, and shuffled off to bed before 1:00 to greet the day blissfully free of New Year's Day hangover hell syndrome. Sometimes it's great to have no life.
***

CoffeeGirl was nice enough to share her Year in Review format with me via email. All things considered, it's been a kickass year around here. Unfortunately, most of the kicking of the ass took it's own sweet time to show up, as the first half of the year was mighty slow. Without further ado:

What did you do in 2004 that you'd never done before?
started a business. Got really ballsy. Grew a little bit more backbone - but also learned that it's sometimes good to back down. Oh, and blogging. I have now blogged. You know, a "blogger". Like the media says all the cool kids are doing.

Did you keep your New Years' resolutions? Will you make more for 2005?
NO, I still smoke. Sometimes. But - YES! I stress less, and have also found a new and better job than the one that dissed me. Stupid asshats. And the so called "more" 2005 resolutions are, in truth, recycled resolutions from 2004, and 2003, and... well, I won't go on. It's just a little bit depressing.

What places did you visit?
Augusta and Bangor, Maine. Cape Cod, Massachusetts. The Mohonk House in New Paltz, New York. Jersey, but that doesn't count so much. My good old hometown, Fredonia, New York, and former stomping grounds in Buffalo, New York. Perhaps next year we'll do some visiting that doesn't involve relatives: imagine going where WE want to go! No way!

What did you get really, really, really excited about?
New job(s). My ever developing and happily maturing relationship with my main man Tim. Kiernan's ability to do homework without a three hour nag fest. Adding a family member - the Amazing Super Max!

What song will always remind you of 2004?
Cinnamon Girl by Neil Young, and perhaps a bit of Beast of Burden by the Stones. Yes, these are old songs, but they remind me of good times (see last entry)

What events merited celebration?
The new job! My God, no one can fire me unless I'm a grossly incompetent psycho - and they're even pleasant to work with! Who would have thought? Also, the new dog - sure, he ate some of Tim's good dress shoes, and our cell phone, and once stole an entire stick of butter from the kitchen counter - Oh, and the universal remote... wait a minute... stupid fucking dog. He's lucky we love him anyway.

Did anyone close to you give birth?
Nope. However, my old friend Jen's little brother Tim and his lovely wife Dayna are expecting, and this makes me feel both vicariously joyous and terribly old.

Did anyone close to you die?
Not this year, god forbid.

What do you wish you'd done more of?
Making money. Luxuriating. Reading things that come in long form (i.e., not the newspaper or magazines or blogs). Being mentally and physically healthy.

What do you wish you'd done less of?
Three things: smoking. Being depressed about joblessness / not doing anything to combat said joblessness. Eating crap while sitting around and being jobless.

Who did you spend the most time on the phone with?
That would be Tim. And they weren't even juicy and fun conversations, simply administrative details. Barring boredom, I probably talked the most to my brother Adam.

What would you like to have in 2005 that you lacked in 2004?
Money. It's a sin.

What date from 2004 will remain etched upon your memory?
This is really sad, but February 20, because we got Max from the Animal Care and Control center on 110th street. Really, I couldn't think of any other important dates, but I always remember that one because it's how we keep track of super mutt's age. Yes, I'm a big dog-geek loser.

What did you want and get?
Unconditional love. Oh, and jewelry. Heh.

What did you want and not get?
Unconditional babysitting.

What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned 29 on Dec. 31 of 2003. I went out to dinner in Yonkers (Y-O, Justin Quinn!) at an Irish pub called Rory Dolan's.

What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Some professional advancement earlier into it.

Did you suffer illness or injury?
Remarkably (given my clumsy, clumsy nature) no.

What was the best thing you bought?
The best.Jeans.Ever.

Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Whoa, there! That list is long! But... uh... Iowa Democratic caucus voters, for one (electability? What is this electability of which you speak?). And as in most years, the behavior of specific maternal family members was perplexing, at best, but I won't snark about that here. I save such things for late night drunken phone calls to my brother.

Where did most of your money go?
That's easy. I live in New York. Rent.

Compared to this time last year, are you...
...Happier or sadder? Immeasurably happier.
...Thinner or fatter? Measurably fatter.
...Richer or poorer? Potentially (as opposed to kinetically?) richer.

What was your favorite TV program?
I've gotta admit that I was a little hyped about the Apprentice. Stupid reality shows.

What was the best book(s) you read?
Last Exit to Brooklyn left horrible images in my head that aren't going away any time soon. Perhaps not the best recommendation, but damn effective writing.

What were your favorite films of this year?
I think my favorites are carryovers from last year. This is the fate of the broke ass parent - you don't see movies until they hit DVD and are rendered irrelevant in the annals of pop culture. That said, I eagerly await the release of I Heart Huckabees, among others; those carryovers I mentioned would include Lost in Translation and Mystic River, which never fails to reduce me to a blubbering pile of protective parenting hormones.

What was your greatest musical discovery?
Musical discoveries? Those would require actually purchasing CDs or understanding how to work an iPod. Not so much this year.

How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2004?
Dog walker chic, aka sneaker wearing fool. That is, pseudo-college-student schlub.

Who were the best new people you met?
Tony, the doorman at 72nd and 1st. Ira and Carl, the doormen at 86th between 3rd and 2nd. Maggie, the RN with the awesome dog, Max, just like MY awesome dog Max. Michelle, the public interest law student with the two well-schooled pit bulls. Didn't I just mention that I'm a pathetic dog geek? This would be concrete proof. Oh, and I would include a lot of really cool bloggers, but I'm a stickler when it comes to actually meeting the people face to face. That's right - I said it -I don't think bloggers count as actual people until I meet them. Ha!

Did you fall in love in 2004?
Sure... and keep doing it more all the time.

Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
I was naive enough to think the asshats at my last job were doing me a favor by letting me go on Dec. 5th of last year. Now, I know they're just asshats.

What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Getting out from under the old unemployment checks and taking the world by the cojones. Or, Upper East Side dog owners, anyway.

What was your biggest failure?
Allowing a simple thing like the loss of a really crappy job to undermine my confidence and self esteem for such a terribly long time.

Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2004.
Compromise is sometimes a good thing - but not always.

Quote a song lyric that sums up your year?
Obladi, Oblada, life goes on...

Happy Birthday to Me!

2004-12-31T00:00:00.000-05:00

30

Also, thanks to coffeegirl for her pre-birthday wishes... Yay! A new year, a new decade, and a new job. What could be better?

2004-12-29T19:15:00.000-05:00

Happpy:

Happy Birthday Jen!

Sad:

R.I.P, Jerry Orbach. You were the best bad cop around.

Sorry, James Urbaniak.

2004-12-28T21:12:00.000-05:00

Okay. I'm either a huge sucker, or I hurt James Urbaniak's feelings.

"Urbaniak" left the following comment on this post.

Thanks for acknowledging that I'm not actually creepy or weird-looking in real life. And "little?" I'm 5'10"!

-Urbaniak, ego-surfing

But, James... I googled your name just now, and 50 - even 100 - pages into it, I was still getting respectable reviews for your large body of film, stage, and television work. I certainly couldn't find my humble little blog in that pile of accolade. You kept reading for 100 pages? That's a lot o' ego, if you ask me.

Anyway, James, if I hurt your feelings, just know that I like you. That's why I noticed you on the street, you silly boy! Listen, though - you've gotta admit that you're working the creepy angle like De Niro worked the gangster roles.

A guy who gives away shoes to sate a foot fetish? A garbageman in a dark comedy about a freakishly dysfunctional family which includes a scene whereof your best friend beds your catatonic mother? Robert Crumb? Dude, that's creepy. Sorry. Oh, and little? Yeah, in a thin tall gangly guy kind of way.

I admit, I didn't see Legally Blonde 2, so you may have been very pleasant. Nor did I see Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, though I do have it qued up on Netflix. But with a name like that - you MUST be playing a creepy guy. Sorry. Oh, and the freaky threesome loving doctor who infects his his ex-girlfriends with Ebola on Law & Order? Sorry, man. I call it like I see it.

I'll give you this, though - you're a lot better (not to mention more normal) looking in real life. Next time you're hanging out around 77th and Lex, I'll say hi, and you can let me know your thoughts on the matter in a non-anonymous manner.

Your Friend,

Katie

My Boys!

2004-12-27T19:19:00.000-05:00

Yay, yay, MY BOYS just called from Connecticut -- they'll be here within an hour or two, yay! They also mentioned something about CHOWDER, which, as we all know, is best when it comes straight from Cape Cod. And PRESENTS, too. (Now really - what's Christmas without PRESENTS? 'Cause, I was all alone and had no presents. Or boys. I was sad.)

...

My first day with the NYC Fraud Busting Motherfuckers was today. It's secret. All I can tell you is that you'd better not ever, ever lie to me if you meet me, because I'll know. The Fraud Squad intends to teach me in the way of their superpowers.

And if I know you're lying to me, I'll probably karate chop you.

And then cut you with my special, free, city funded metrocard.

Hee-ya!

G-Mail? Can I pay you to take a g-mail?

2004-12-26T19:37:00.000-05:00

Yes, I am aware that gmail is in no way a hot commodity.

However, the Google people saw fit to grant me about 10 more invites. I suppose it's just their version of Christmas.

Here's MY version of Christmas: ask, and ye shall receive. Leave a comment, and the most oversaturated free email on the market is yours.

(Who loves ya, baby? Mommy does, that's who.)

ADAM!

2004-12-26T02:51:00.000-05:00

My little brother has a blog.

He hasn't done so much with it, but he will if you lovely ladies out there ask him to (*wink, wink!*)

Here's some background:

He's 22. Currently unemployed, but you know how it is when you're 22 (hey, more time to BLOG!)

He's really kind of cute, in a non-incestuous way (go! look at his picture on his blog! RIGHT NOW! You decide..)

He lives in Binghamton, but he's just started some nonsense about moving to Florida. Wha? 95 degrees and 95% humidity? What are you thinking, child? No! You're not 72... 22!

Wry humor, politically aware (if a bit, um, shall we say, obscure? Strange, even?) open to a variety of nutritional lifestyles, including hippie-type vegan, exclusively carnivorous, and especially ramen noodle based. Prefers to wear black. Likes some weird ass industrial music (which I introduced him to when I was 18 and he was 11; maybe not my best call, but he DID have a fabulous role model... [er - that would be ME])

Young women, have at him! Open season on the Adam!

Merry Christmas!

2004-12-25T13:41:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas, everybody! Merry Christmas, you old Savings and Loan!

(Whoa - this Jimmy Stewart moment brought to you by too much late night cable viewing...)

My sweet friend Jen emailed me this funny, funny website - may I present to you, the Dirty Snowman Kama Sutra.

Consider it my gift.

Merry Christmas - and lay off the eggnog, already! Do you have any idea how much fat that crap has?

Fa La La La La

2004-12-24T20:37:00.000-05:00

I took one for the team this time. I don't feel so bad about it, but I DO miss my boys. A lot.

This is how it went:

Monday

T: Did you confirm with the dog sitter?

K: Naw, I'll get right on that.

Tuesday

T: Have you heard from her?

K: NOOOOOO!

Wednesday

...And lo, there was rabid combing through Craigslist to find another dog sitter, preferably under $35 a night. And there was gnashing of the teeth, and a terrible dirty small kennel in Queens to which we would never, ever subject our beloved Maximillian.

And thus, Mother decided she should stay home and save us money and save our big dumb mutt from some undetermined fate involving kennel cough. And wrapped many gifts for small niece and nephew types.

So now, of course, I'm mighty bummed, but not so badly, either. Because I had many, many Christmases with Kiernan that Tim never got to see. And because I love them both more than anything, and I'm really glad that they're both able to see family that we all love and haven't seen for awhile.

I'm also glad because of the message Tim left on the phone earlier today, the message in which his mother shouted into the receiver, "When's the damn wedding, already?". I get to dodge that particular bullet, and leave it to my darling boyfriend. Ha. Family. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. Especially when they're cute and ruddy and Irish and eight and thirty-four, respectively.

Merry Christmas Eve!

2004-12-24T09:26:00.000-05:00

Rocking time-waster.

God knows, those are necessary. Time wasters, that is, not virtual lego people. But virtual lego people are pretty cool, too.

2004-12-24T07:37:00.000-05:00

They just left, bound by car service for the Port Authority. Sniff. Bye, boys. I'll be thinking of you and our blissful family life while I'm running my short con on tourists in Times Square.

Exploitation, Schmexploitation

2004-12-23T16:30:00.000-05:00

Since the ole ball and chain will be away for a few days, I was thinking I should get my groove on. Who's up for a night at Scores? Lap dances on me, yo!

Hee hee.

No, really. I support strippers, porn, and all other unholy pursuits that supposedly objectify we wimmen folk. I'm one of those obnoxious pro-sex feminists.

I mean, when you hear some diatribe about women being exploited in the sex industries and blah blah blahbiddy blah, doesn't it occur to you that "Hey... she's makin' some CASH fo that ass!" Am I right? Seriously. In most cases (and sure, there are exceptions, but they're NOT the norm) the girl was ready and willing to break into the business. She was excited about it. And she's now got a much bigger paycheck than she could possibly hope to earn at the Waffle House down the road.

What about gay porn? Are all of the bottoms out there also being exploited? How about the bear scene? Is it unfairly objectifying big fat hairy gay men? Huh? WON'T SOMEBODY PLEASE THINK ABOUT THE BEARS!

Maybe it's just me, but I somehow didn't think feminine equality meant that from now on, we're gonna send Daddy to hold your hand and make sure no big boys make you do bad things. I thought it meant we actually had brains and could make decisions for ourselves. Heh, loony, I know.

Whatever. I'm off to get that lap dance now. (Heh heh heh.)

I'll Have a Blue Christmas

2004-12-22T21:26:00.000-05:00

Due to a flaky dog sitter and our collective realization that if I stayed home with Super Max, we would save almost three hundred fucking dollars, I will not be attending the annual sort-of-inlaws Christmas soiree in Cape Cod.

I.E., I'll be home. Alone. On Christmas.

Aaaaaa!

It's kind of good. I can go into the city, and have it all to myself, as New York will most assuredly be a ghost town over the weekend. I'll buy myself assorted superfabulous appetizers to make a little one woman Christmas dinner. I'll buy a bottle of champagne. Hell, I've even got Netflix all lined up with girly movies that Tim doesn't want to see. Huzzah!

But, um... waaaahhhhhhh. Lonely. Three days. Then, new job.

In lieu of Christmas (and honestly, who needs relatives and stress and travel the day before starting a new job? Not this sister) we'll be celebrating a new tradition:

BIRTHDAYMASS*

Yes, my 30th birthday will be this New Year's Eve, at which point we will dine in a luminous and normally not-in-our-price-range-bucko house o' grub, exchange gifts, and do all that X-mas hoo-ha. Who cares about the day, right?

Shit. I don't even believe in God, anyway - it's just a nice tradition. Jeez.

Waaahhhhhhhh.

(The kicker, though, is that I've had "Do They Know It's Christmas" in my head for two days. Damned Live Aid. My life blows)**

* Yes, I am aware that those of us with birthdays this close to the dreaded holiday season greatly resent any combination of "birthday" and "Chrismukwanzachanukafestivus". In this case, however, I am willing to make an exception. Just this once.

** Not really. I mean, my life is pretty great, overall. But the song part? Yeah, that's really, really irritating. Damned British pop stars.

Three Goddamn Things, Goddammit.

2004-12-20T10:15:00.000-05:00

Jen asks, and she shall receive:

Three Names You Go By: Katie, Kathryn, Hey dumbass

Three Screennames You Have: rageokt, katie.courtney, serialblogonomy

Three Things You Like About Yourself: My badass analytical ability. That I have the wherewithal to adapt to just about anything. That I'm turning 30 this month, and just coming into my own, but still get carded everywhere. Also, when you get to know me I'm sexy as hell.

Three Things You Dislike About Yourself: My seeming inability to completely give up smoking. Passive aggression. A secret complete lack of confidence, paired with rampant nagging insecurity.

Three Parts of Your Heritage: Irish, Scottish, French

Three Things That Scare You: Terribly shortsighted foreign policy. Abandonment. The possibility that I could meander through life without significant professional success.

Three of Your Everyday Essentials: Coffee, carbs, cuddling

Three Things You Are Wearing Right Now: The best jeans EVER. Wool sweater (it's 11 degrees outside! GODDAMN!) Awesome organic cotton camisole.

Three of Your Favorite Bands/Artists (at the moment): Grateful Dead, Portishead, Lou Reed

Three New Things You Want to Try in the Next 12 Months: Organization (ha! fat chance!) Martial Arts (I haven't decided which one.) Shabu Shabu.

Three Things You Want in a Relationship (love is a given): Fire, equality, trust

Two Truths and a Lie: In the past decade, I've lived in four states, four major cities, and had over a dozen different addresses, but New York is my favorite. I have a huge conservative streak, but mostly of the libertarian rather than the family values sort. I have financial discipline up the wazoo.

Three Physical Things About the Opposite Sex (or same) That Appeal to You: Seriously masculine body type (i.e, big shoulders, big chest, etc.) Facial hair, particularly of the unintentional, stubbly sort. A HUGE sense of humor (it's usually necessary to have some brain power to achieve this goal).

Three Things You Just Can't Do: Watch/read chick-flicks/chick-lit without audibly gagging. Understand my female peers (unless they happen to be of the "one of the guys" sort, like me, in which case we get along just fine.) Tolerate early mornings without at least two rounds of snooze tag and some really strong coffee.

Three of Your Favorite Hobbies: Sloth, Lust, and Greed

Three Things You Want to do Really Badly Right Now: Waste my entire day in front of the computer (but I won't - I'll go Christmas shopping). When I actually GO shopping, buy myself lots of things (again - nada. Not gonna do it.) Cancel our Christmas plans and just stay home (not that our plans are so bad -- it's just that family together time doesn't always equate relaxation.)

Three Careers You're Considering: Philosophy Professor, Fraud Investigator Extraordinaire, dog breeder

Three Places You Want to Go on Vacation: Guatemala, Cambodia, Morocco

Three Kids Names: Kiernan (well, duh), Isabella, Colin

Three Things You Want to Do Before You Die: Own a nice chunk of property (you may have your own ideas on what "a nice chunk" means). Hike the Appalachian Trail - the whole thing, not just a short strip. Visit several extremely out-of-the-way and un touristed foreign destinations.

Three People You Want to Take this Quiz: George W. Bush. John Stewart. Pedro Martinez.

Apprentice That

2004-12-17T10:09:00.000-05:00

Yeah, I so totally called it for Kelly. I'm just that good.

Why ELSE is today a good day? Because it's my last day of walking some neurotic-ass people's dogs. (Well, I admit it, I'm gonna miss most of those little ~~shitheads~~ adorable little darlings...)

Oh, and the ode-to-dogs thing? I lied. Ha ha.

Apprentice This

2004-12-16T17:35:00.000-05:00

Tonight: The most important episode of the Apprentice...

EVER!

That blonde bitch needs to get smacked down.

Go Kelly! Go Kelly! Go, go, go Kelly!

I've considered the demographics, however, and feel that since Kwame succumbed to Bill last year, the Trump organization may be looking for something a bit more diverse. That is, white males should probably not win two years in a row, and thus that evil Harvard Jen bitch might win for the sake of political correctitude (Yes, it's a word, dammit - my word). Which would suck. Because, well... did I mention she's a bitch? And dumb, too? 'Sides, I just like that Kelly boy's style.

For the record, I was also digging Kevin. But how the hell did Sandie get into the final four? Anyone?

2004-12-16T09:43:00.000-05:00

Jumpin' jiminy!

Tomorrow is my last day as a dog walker. This is a good thing, considering that mother nature recently decided to open her can of artic-style whup ass. I'm taking next week off, so that I can ~~start~~ finish up my Christmas shopping, clean house, sleep late, and so forth.

In honor of the poochies, I shall compose an ode to all the dogs I've loved before.

Tomorrow.

(Who said I'm not good at nuthin'? I'm good at procrastination, that's what!)

2004-12-13T09:44:00.000-05:00

18 more days until I'm 30 and (ahem) a real adult.

Family Cooking Time With Katie and Tim

2004-12-12T14:09:00.000-05:00

"Don't I have an awesome ass? Seriously. And could you hand me the salt?"

"Sure, for the most part. Let me in to the cutting board."

"The most part?"

"Uh..."

"What, is it FLAT?"

"Oh, no. Definitley not flat. Especially right here."

"That's right, bitch. Now get to dicing."

Mutual of Omaha Blog Special

2004-12-11T18:06:00.000-05:00

Or, not.

Let me end my environmentalist bender by announcing the return of our little hawk friends, Pale Male & Lola.

They tried to rebuild, but the building had removed the pigeon spikes upon which the nest rested. They just kept pathetically circling the building, for days and days.

But now, hurray! The co-op board says they'll put a hawk-poop defense platform in place, and allow re-nesting. My faith in humanity - well, at least in the humanity of rich snooty bastard Upper East Siders - is restored. I guess a little bit of national negative press can do wonders. Rich asshats. Gah.

Now, back to your regularly scheduled blog:

I was the resignation letter fairy on Friday! With each badly printed (hey, my cartridge is going low - do these people deserve office quality? Noooo.) letter, chock full of referals to big pack-walking agencies who charge twice as much as me, that I distributed to each demanding, neurotic client, my heart felt a touch lighter and the wet rainy sogginess of the day mattered just a little bit less. It's great to resign, no matter how much you like your job. Isn't that always the way?

Save Pale Male!

2004-12-08T15:50:00.000-05:00

My inner nature dork always rears its geeky head when I walk dogs in Central Park, mostly because we pass the model boat pond and the famous hawk at 74th Street and Fifth Avenue, Pale Male. Pale Male was the subject of a PBS Documentary a few years back, and he's still being stalked via telescope today.

Er, until yesterday.

Building management decided Pale Male left a few too many undesirable secretions in front of the building, so they sent the staff up to the twelfth floor, stuffed the copious, ten year old hawk nest into garbage bags, and tossed it away.

What the fuck?

I passed the building today, and it was thronged by cameras and garden variety gawkers. Doubtless this was the kind of attention the building management desired. Again, (say it with me now!) what the fuck?

You just threw a New York institution in the trash. Didn't it occur to you that someone might notice?

(I guess Mary Tyler Moore lives in the building - they had her on the news last night, decrying the travesty and saying the management was full of shit when they claimed the tenants requested it. Go, MTM.)

What the fuck?

No, really...

2004-12-08T09:05:00.000-05:00

I totally left the house the other night!

Not that I'm agoraphobic. I mean, I totally left the house by myself (i.e.: no small children or animals in tow), after dark, TO A BAR. Specifically, Sala, a tapas bar on the Bowery, for the 4th annual inspirational celebrational Sag Party. Which was fun, despite the fact that I knew about two people there, including one of the co-hosts. And despite the drunken pilgrimage I undertook searching for the subway at one in the morning (hey, did I ever CLAIM to have a sense of direction? No? Then shut up, TIM).

I came away with this strange, smug sense that I had escaped a terrible fate in the world of professional theater technicians. Not that they're bad people; everyone I met at the party was witty and creative and fun, and my invitation in the first place came from a great old friend who I met as a (gasp!) technical theater major. It was just that, of those partygoers who confessed that they'd like to find another line of work, very few had anything but gigs on their resumes. It seems that your specialized little niche has the potential to become a specialized little cage, and I'm glad that I was able to branch out from that despite the fact that I am reduced to professional undertakings that an entrepreneurial twelve year old might consider a decent summer gig (ahem - need your dog walked? Cause I'm still in business for a week or so...)

ANYWAY.

It rained yesterday. Terrible, cold, soaking rain that has pummeled me for two days now. Oh, and I was hungover (see above). It got me to thinking (blearily) about New York rituals that may or may not occur in similarly congested urban landscapes.

1. Umbrella Etiquette
Think about it. Hundreds of people are streaming past one another on any given sidewalk in NYC at any given moment. On a rainy day, that means they're maneuvering their umbrellas and shopping bags and various other crap past each other. In umbrella terms, this means one of the people passing has to raise their umbrella high enough to a) not bash the opposing umbrella, and b) not to poke out the eyes of innocent bystanders. My question: is there an unspoken protocol regarding this? Is it, say, the holder of the larger umbrella who holds the responsibility to raise it? Is it sort of like walk-on-the-right, pass-on-the-left? And what's the deal with the white point-protectors you see around town? Huh? What? Help me, please.

2. Subway Etiquette
Hey, GUY ON THE TRAIN, you're supposed to let everyone off first before you move your fat ass and your cart full of junk onto the train. That means ME, jackass.

3. The Bar Party
Nobody in New York has an apartment large enough to contain a party. Nobody you or I know, anyway. So people have parties in bars. And more often than not, it's not even private - it's just a bar, with a bunch of people you know. And you're paying New York bar prices for the food, drinks, whatever (did I mention I had a $10 Bloody Mary the other night? Cause I had a $10 Bloody Mary the other night. Stupid bar prices.) The parties are still fun - and probably a lot more atmospheric than most people's apartments - but, it's weird. Just weird.

4. The Elongated Real Estate Relationship
You know the couple. They've been together for a couple of years, they moved in together, and now they HATE each other. But they can't move out, because neither is prepared to give up the spacious one bedroom they found and either move to a cheaper neighborhood or a smaller apartment. These people will stay together for years, and never break up - at least, not until one of them finds a new significant other with a n equally spacious / appealingly located apartment.

5. Dog Walkers
Last I heard, Peoria didn't have a big dog walking business boom. I leave my own dog home all day while I go out and walk other people's dogs, and he's just fine. What do people do in the suburbs? Do their dogs just pee all over their house? No. They're fine. Hmmmmm. Closely related to:

6. The Delivery Economy
Food, of course, is a given. But everybody else - from grocery stores to the Home Depot to Petco to wash & fold laundry services - will deliver to your door, at least if you live in Manhattan. It's cool, but it's also like, "Can't you do anything for yourself?"

That's all I've got. Like I said, it was raining all over my hungover ass, and to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure my poor little brain has dried out yet. Anyone else have some urban weirdness observations to share? Send 'em in. It'll save me the trouble of creating a new and original post.

Who da man? I da man.

2004-12-04T15:46:00.000-05:00

I'm leaving my life of dog walking leisure.

I'm leaving to become THE MAN.

No, you perverts, I'm not pre-op. Not the literal kind of man, but the figurative, "hey, man, stop keeping me down already!" kind of man.

I'm going to be issued a badge and a shield and a free metro card - did you hear me say free metrocard??!! - and going to have a fabulous health plan, not to mention able to retire with full pay in 20 years. (That's what, 50? Okay. I can stop working at 50. That would be fine.) And overtime, which means lots of overtime pay, because of Union backing that says, hey, buddy, it's past eight hours? Yer getting time and a half. Have a nice day.

And no, no, I'm not going to be a cop (though, can't you just picture me in the funny little hat and the giant utility belt and the kung fu moves, taking out bad guys? That would be fun.)

New York City wants me to come and investigate fraud. I'm on the Fraud Squad.

New York City also made me sign a bunch of confidentiality agreements, so if I want to avoid being dooced, I probably shouldn't say too much about the whole thing. Anyway, this is the deal: Back before I started this blog, I was unemployed for a long time, and I took a few civil service tests just for shits and giggles. This week, they mailed a few notices out of the blue, saying "Come over here! We want you!" and "No, no, we're totally cooler than they are! Come over HERE!" and, ultimately, "No, NO! We're cooler but we're also going to wave a lot more money at you! You know you want us!" and there I went, to a big conference room in the financial district where 150 other people were also vying for NYC's affections, and they picked 50 of us, and hey, guess what? I was one of the 50.

I go to school for six months (paid, with benefits). Then I start visiting and surveilling unsavory characters who do things like cheat welfare and jump child support payments. And that's kind of cool, especially since it appeals to both my liberal (people need welfare! feed small children!) and conservative (cheaters suck! you're ruining it for everyone, jackass!) mentalities. Oh, and my unhealthy Law & Order Obsession. The Fraud Squad definitley appeals to that, too.

More later. I start December 27th. Meanwhile, I'll be right here, polishing my badge and shield and practicing my kung fu moves.

OH - speaking of cops, read Laid Off Dad's thing about Bernard Kerik. It's funny.

And did I mention (Six Degrees of Blogination fans, take note) that Tim once sold Bernard Kerik and his son high end running shoes when he worked at Super Runners? (For non-New York residents, Super Runners is a local chain started by the guy who won the first Boston marathon. Tim worked there. He also sold shoes to Flavah Flav (sp?).) There were lots of suited bodyguards involved. They had to scope out the store before the sales guys could start their spiels on pronation and supination. I guess it just goes to show that there's something to be said for being lost in the wilderness of specialized retail in New York - you get to meet a lot of interesting people.

Baseball, John Stewart, and True Love

2004-12-03T19:54:00.000-05:00

John Stewart interviewed Steven King about his Red Sox book on the Daily Show last night.

Guess what?

Johnny is a Mets fan.

I just knew we were made for each other. Now, if only the Mets would stop picking up aging, downhill players (37 million for Pedro Martinez? WHAT? For a 33 year old pitcher who's lost 5 mph on his fastball in the last 2 seasons? Wilpon family, LAY OFF THE CRACK) then maybe they could win and John and I could be happy together forever.

In other news, I hope this Balco thing decimates the Yankees lineup and that they are forced to endure several mediocre "building" years. Ha. Stupid Yankees.

2004-12-01T08:56:00.000-05:00

I promise I'll do a real post soon. I'm just really busy. I'm changing careers; try it, you'll like it!

Until then...

Not big on trust, eh?

What is Your Shakespearian Tragic Flaw?
brought to you by Quizilla

From Jen.

Holiday!

2004-11-25T01:03:00.000-05:00

Shit, man. It's midnight. I've (we've) been waiting with baited breath for my brother to show up (from Binghamton, three hour drive to the city, he said he was leaving at 6 pm) since 10 o'clock.

I'm happy to invite my brother to Thanksgiving dinner. Round here, we've taken a liking to making our own traditions, and cooking a badass Thanksgiving is one of them. Last year, our only guest was Mac from round Buffalo way, but he was a great guest. He's a great guy (hint - great guys make for great guests.) Now that my little brother's moved within a stone's throw from the city, he's our soon to be regular and soon to be great (but not quite as great as Mac - hey, it comes with age) guest.

But right now, I'm worried. Hurry up, Adam! Damn! Did traffic fuck you up? Did you become entangled in a late evening conversation with an old friend that you lacked the fortitude to end? (Adam lacks fortitude in that way. Internet(s), I thought you should know.)

Aside from the Adam dilemma, I'm oh-so-thankful that Thanksgiving is once again not involvng crazy obese realtives, lame small talk about our respective professions, or the killing Tim's third cousin twice removed made in the bonds market. I'm thankful that I have an incredible, yet incredibly human and fallible man, who makes me laugh every other minute.

I'm thankful most of all for our gorgeous and genetically blessed son, Kiernan. He's a science genius, mathematician, and comedy writer already - and hell, he's only just turned eight!

Kiernan, if I haven't mentioned it before, has an autistic spectrum disorder known as Asperger's Syndrome. Out in California, they call it little geek syndrome or Bill Gates' syndrome. It entails an obsessive interest in one or two subjects - in Kiernan's case, scientific pursuits like animal biology or computers and playstation 2 (yeah, most of you are saying, "Playstation is a disability? Then aren't most kids disabled?" Nooo, we let Kiernan play this shit once a week. Yet, he still obsesses over it once a day. Seriously.)

Added to the one or two interests is a high verbal ability, a high IQ, and lack of social or physical skills - that is, Kiernan sure can't play ball, and the other kids think he's a little strange. But he's brilliant and thoroughly impresses every teacher he encounters. In my day, he would have been the smart awkward kid, but now there's a need to diagnose these things.

Luckily, he has a fabulous, award winning teacher who supports our decision NOT to medicate him. He just scored in the 90th percentile for the city practice tests (For non-New Yorkewrs, the city has introduced serious tests at the third gradse level - Kiernan's level - that determine promotion or failure. Kiernan kicked a lot of ass [this includes private schools, and he's in a public school] and he hasn't yet learned half of the material [including such diverse, abstract subjects as poetry and causal reasoning]). My boy may have some issues, but he's smmmahhhht. And he makes up for it by being the class clown. Trust me, you've not seen adorable until you've seen little toothless (his teeth are falling out late - he's in third grade, and yet he's looking like a jack o' lantern) pontificating, third grade-poop-fart-joking Kiernan.

So, yeah, I'm pretty thankful for him. And for his Dad. And for the fact that his dad, despite all of our college ed-ju-macted precautions, knocked me up at the fragile age of twenty and left me with such a great fucking kid. I'm especially thankful that we finally, as fully functioning adults, figured out that we're perfect for each other (pre-made family notwithstanding.) Fate moves in mysterious ways, especially when it moves in the wake of ten years of serial monogomay.

Dear God, how did I end up here?

I don't know, but I'm pretty pleased about it.

*P.S. Adam finally showed up at about 12:30. With some vague story about a hundred mile detour. I must investigate.

P.P.S. HAPPY FUCKING THANKSGIVING! May your turkey be moist, may your stuffing be buttery, and may the wine be plentiful. Huzzah!

The most sensational, celebrational, SIX DEGREES OF BLOGINATION III!!!!

2004-11-23T20:21:00.000-05:00

Morgan, the elderly English Setter, didn't want to go to Central Park today. Instead, she chose the streets, which means meandering between Madison and Third Avenues in the seventies. She picked a good day.

Morgan picked a good day because she trotted her ass right into the middle of a Law & Order shoot, on 73rd between Park and Lex.

I totally saw Dennis Farina in a goofy peach scarf! Jesse L. Martin watched Morgan playing with a Shiba Inu, and he SMILED! JESSE L. MARTIN HAD A SHIT EATING GRIN ON WHILE WATCHING ME (uh, I mean Morgan) PLAY WITH A PUPPY!

For those of you who aren't Law & Order geeks (admit it, people, you ALL watch the rerun marathons. They're better than all of that reality crap, and you know it) Dennis Farina is the old Italian guy they hired to replace Jerry Orbach, formerly known as Law & Order's curmudgeon detective. Jesse L. Martin is the hot, suave, young detective. The good cop. The veeeerrrrrry good cop.

I asked a techie when this episode was set to air, and he said sometime after New Year's. So, if you decide to check out some Law & Order after the holidays, and there's a scene in front of a lovely ritzy Upper East Side town house, and there's some girl in the background walking a big white dog, THAT'S ME, MUTHAFUCKA! Me and, of course, the fabulous chooser of walking routes, Morgan, favored pet of the gay Thurston Howell the III.

We Have a Winner!

2004-11-17T09:03:00.000-05:00

Best lame catcall I've ever received while walking a large pitbull down the street that made me simultaneously want to rip the guys nads out and laugh out loud at his sheer wit (or not):

"I'd go down too if you gave me a treat"

New York women are so used to catcalls. Ick. I envy the thick skin, because I, my friends, am a small town girl. Shouting degrading shit at women just isn't done where I come from. Though, after spending the weekend in a state whose entire population barely rivals that of my borough, it's safe to say I won't be headed back to the small towns anytime soon. Those catcalling assholes keep me on my toes, and, frankly, I LIKE being on my toes.

Giving Thanks

2004-11-09T21:54:00.000-05:00

I've only met Sean Zigmund once.

I'm confident that I'll meet him again; he is, after all, one of Tim's best, oldest friends. You should hear how he talks about that guy. The one time I met him was marked by humility (he let us know our horrible, embarrassing pile of laundry was human, and, *gasp* common!) and good company. Hell, he even did the dishes after dinner! Most of our guests don't do that. That's okay, we love them anyway. He's who I want to be when I grow up - he's got a great job (computer guru) with a progressive conscience (he farms for an organic co-op) and lives in my dream hometown, Burlington, VT.

Better yet, all of this goodness was confirmed about a month ago when Sean called Tim and told him he was donating a kidney to his uncle Eliot.

The surgery happened about a week ago. All is well with both donor and recipient.

AND, Sean blogged the experience.

If you want to know anything at all about kidney donation, check out Zigmuna's Blog.

Actually, Sean seems to be moving on to other topics as well... all ye liberals, take note. Smart, generous, wonderful man.

I've been thinking about Sean a lot in the month since he called with the news. I've asked myself, would I do that? Would most people? Probably not. That's why I've been reading up, picking the brain of the guy that would. You should, too.

In other news:

My brother Adam is here. Which rocks. And we're going to Maine for a few days - which could maybe rock, except it's with my psychotic extended family - I think we once called it family hell? - but it's not so hellish as just, well, tedious and depressing these days. I may update from there. You've been warned.

And now, presenting the rest of our lives...

2004-11-04T08:56:00.000-05:00

What can I say that everyone else hasn't said? Nadda.

I had a semi-coherent, long post assembled yesterday. However, Blogger broke out the tough love and deleted it before I embarrassed myself.

Four more years... I keep thinking,

"How bad could it be? Really?"

And then I remember,

"Oh, shit. He thinks he has a mandate now."

Well, well. While I still find it slightly astounding that half the country looks at this guy and thinks, "That's EXACTLY what I want in my Commander in Chief!", I still think I'm going to live. Moreover, I'm going to live quite happily in the good old U.S. of A. I can, at least, take comfort in the fact that I reside in a city that voted for Kerry four to one over Bush.

That's not an exaggeration - look up the county breakdown for Manhattan, Bronx, Kings, Queens, and Staten Island. NYC is also home to about 20 of the hundred top zipcodes for political fundraising this cycle. I care for the canines of those in the #1, #2, and #3 zipcodes in the nation (Lenox Hill, Yorkville [sort of Upper East Side subdivisions] and the plain old UES itself, 10021, 10022, and 10028, respectively.) Feel alienated in east Bumblefuck? New York welcomes you!

At least a few million folks in this country don't have their heads up their asses.

One more thing, and then I'll be off my soapbox - for a little while, anyway - and back to stories of dogs and dildos and wholesome city family fun.

To all of those voters who decided based on so-called "moral values" (in lieu of national security, terrorism, the crapper economy, and so on and on...) Doesn't our Constitution guarantee us each the latitude to worship or not as we see fit, without hindrance by the state apparatus? What if the majority were Islamic fundamentalists? (not my original thought, BTW. I can't remember where I read it, but it was recently and it was online, if anyone else caught and wants to help me cite the reference.) What if the Islamic fundamentalists out there voted on religious tenets alone, your minority evangelical Christian values be damned? And what if you then had to follow all of their laws, because they felt that their faith must not only be practiced by individuals of the group, but legislated so that ALL are forced to practice Islamic law?

That's a little bit how I feel, as an atheist looking at poll numbers that indicate HUGE support for a ban on homosexual rights, women's rights, rights for non Christians across the board. I don't have issues with whatever religion you want to practice - just don't twist it into legislation that binds me to your God.

The U.S. is majority Christian, you say? I say some things shouldn't be up to the majority.

Remember, up until the 1960's - let's face it, even beyond - the U.S. was also majority racist bigots and misogynists. Don't make it right, and don't mean it can't change.

2004-11-02T21:00:00.000-05:00

Oh yeah, THIS is good... reeeaalll good real time stuff, for those lacking the telly.

Dildo Dogs Cause Finger Mangling

2004-11-02T20:55:00.000-05:00

Ummm... my boyfriend just accused me of blogaholism. Which means I'm addicted to blogahol.

Hello, my name is Katie, and I am a blogaholic.

Also - the crushed finger? Ayyiiiee! Baxter the dildo dog was hassling me on the way to the girl's room. The client's bathroom door is covered in bathrobes - copious, large, fluffy bathrobes - which I pulled toward me to shut the door so that Baxter would refrain from sniffing my crotch as I peed. Unfortunately, the hinge side of the door MANGLED my left index finger into a bloody little stump (which, though Tim is trying to tell me different, does NOT require stitches. I'm that hard, ya'll.)

So, he made us a big pot of homeade badass chicken soup to fix my ills, and to fortify us through the longass night to come. Happy poll watching, everybody.

2004-11-02T20:30:00.000-05:00

Hey, here's a guy in Canada who would vote if he were here: An American Parrothead in Canada (is that sort of like an American Werewolf in London? Because I saw that movie for the first time over the weekend, and it was surprisingly unsucky.)

Also, anyone ever hear of the Redskin curse thingy? Because the Redskins DID lose last weekend (yeah, Greenbay! Way to influence the election in a pleasing way!)

New Jersey is cool

2004-11-02T20:20:00.000-05:00

Jersey STILL be Kerry country, despite Republican efforts to the contrary. I may never say this out loud again, but, I knew there was a reason I liked you, New Jersey.

go. vote. now.

2004-11-02T16:27:00.000-05:00

Can't blog... crushed finger...

Um, what are you doing reading blogs anyway? Get yer lazy internet addicted ass to the polls, pronto. Unless you're in one of those decidedly red or decidedly blue states. Then, you don't really count. No matter what your sixth grade social studies teacher told you.

One more thing - do the legions of befuddled elderly election workers lower anyone else's confidence in our electoral system? Because, when my guy found out my last name was spelled with a "C" and not a "K", it really threw him. I mean, he couldn't figure out what to do. It didn't seem like it would be too hard to slip some voter fraud past this guy. I'm just sayin'.

Johnny, how we loove thee...

2004-10-31T01:34:00.000-05:00

Anyone else catch the Seth Myers / Johnny Damon moment on SNL? That man has singlehandedly made the Sox my second favorite team (if you're reading, Johnny, yeah, my boyfriend and I are undergoing therapy in preparation for eventual MARRIAGE(!). However, if it doesn't work out, you're on my speed dial, baby cakes.)

And who else appreciates the meta approach to Ashlee - lipsynch-psychotic-hoedown-Simpson? That's some funny.

AND, who else thinks Kate Winslet is occasionally hot hot hot?

Damn... you know you're either

1) too young to leave the house, or

2) too old to do anything but watch the kid

when you're a regular Saturday Night Live fan. Oh, dear. I'm not even thirty yet, for fuck's sake! I still get carded, but the encroaching gray hairs prove it - I'm officially old now. I guess that started about eight years ago, when I became somebody's mom.

P.S. What's cuter than an eight year old who wants to be the grim reaper for Halloween? I'll tell ya. MY geeky scientific eight year old knocking on people's doors tomorrow and saying, "Trick or Treat! I am Death!" Tomorrow is the official day of "I am a slackass mom who needs to get to stitchin' on my kid's overly ambitious costume", i.e., "I was a former under-motivated costume design major." Which became, in later years, a philosophy major. Who says I can't pick the pragmatic disciplines?

P.P.S. Tonight I witnessed father-son bonding in its finest form. As I cooked dinner, Kiernan and Tim enjoyed a few cuts from Led Zeppelin's "How the West Was Won" DVD. Kiernan was a spastic asylum resident, flailing around in an attempt to emulate John Bonham. He'll either be a star or a spaz... it's too soon to tell.

Stupidest Op-Ed EVER (or, BAD PUNDIT!)

2004-10-27T09:08:00.000-04:00

So, the New York Post tends to publish a lot of, shall we say, crap. I read it every day (hell, it's only a quarter, and I've got a long train ride to sit through) and let me tell you, I've seen a lot of shit spew out of that paper's figurative piehole.

Yesterday's champion piece of turd had to be this little ditty in the Op-Eds, The Myth of the Undecideds.

Okay, okay, let's be fair. It was a bit partisan, sure, but that's not my problem. It was well researched, filled to the brim with numbers and statistics that no Post reader would ever think to fact check. It even acknowledged that the two candidates are neck and neck, albeit giving a slight edge to G.W. Which is to be expected from a Murdoch-driven cesspool of Republican hatemongering like the Post.

MY problem is that it was all WRONG.

No, no, not factually. Just wrong in that the electoral race is being approached from a national perspective (with such speculations as [I'm paraphrasing here] "...since Bush has 49% in the polls and Kerry has 47%, and we give 1% to the Libertarians and the Greens and Lyndon LaRouche and 1% just to Nader, Bush will clearly win! And even if one of these doesn't hold, if Bush gets just 4 million more votes... which is one half a percent...") That's not a direct quote. But the general idea is the same.

Listen up, dumbass! Because of the Electoral College, your percentage horse race don't mean diddly. So, you want to speculate on exactly how many popular votes Bush will receive? May I remind you that millions and millions of those votes won't matter in the end?

Hell, if we'd listened to this guy's logic, Al Gore would be POTUS and Bush would still be some failed businessman on a ranch in Crawford, Texas.

I was thinking - what if we had the same debacle as 2000, only the other way around? We don't even have to do Florida - let's do Ohio or somewhere, just to change it up a little bit. Let's say Bush wins the popular vote. That votes are disputed in some battle ground state or another. And that, ultimately, Kerry wins that state and thus the election. Poetic justice, baby.

How many Republicans would protest the Electoral College, call the election stolen, flip the fuck out for the next four years? How good would it feel for Democrats to think of their own little slogan - better than "Sore / Loserman ", of course (we're the creative types, right?) Maybe something along the lines of "Georgie, Peorgie..." I don't know. I'll have to put my people to work on it.

Anyway, you always hear the same defense - "Without the Electoral College, politicians would ignore the small states. If we went solely on the popular vote, they'd concentrate all efforts on, say, the nine most populous states and ignore the rest of us." SO WHAT? Right now, the most populous states are shit on. Right now, New York state contributes enough taxes to support half the mid-Atlantic coastal region, but we don't get diddly. Hell, we don't even get pandered to. Nebraska gets more per capita Homeland Security funding than we do. 'Cause, you know, the terrorists are really concentrated out there. Big target, Nebraska.

Awww, fuck it all. Just go vote. Unless you're in a big state. No, no, just kidding. Voting is important. Especially when you don't know a damn thing about the issues, but you think Kerry's just a little snooty. Argh. I hate people. That's why I walk dogs for a living.

Bleh...

2004-10-25T09:57:00.000-04:00

No Monday! No. More weekend, please. No work.

This weekend Tim & I decided we're going to a counselor. And hopefully the counselor will give us some anti-crazy juice, because we pretty crazy. The decision came in part because half the weekend (Saturday, to be exact) was spent in tearful mayhem fighting over something really, really small (um, we can't remember what it was.) The other half was spent all cuddly-like. The bad thing is, last weekend was also like that. I don't know what the deal is, other than that we're perfectly happy most of the time until, say, one of us puts the toilet paper roll on the wrong way (no, not really. I'm just joking) and then it's battle royale and we're breaking up. And then we're both sad and cuddly.

Maybe that's not so healthy?

THAT's why we're going to anonymous counselor person for the anti-crazy juice. Because neither one of us wants to pretend we're breaking up anymore - it takes too much energy. Better to be bland.

Maybe it's the stress of watching so much sports?

ALL CAPS DAY?

2004-10-22T17:24:00.000-04:00

TONY PIERCE SAID THAT TODAY IS "ALL CAPS DAY". HMMM. WHY NOT? WHO AM I TO QUESTION THE BUSBLOG?

SO, I'M DONE WITH MY OBNOXIOUS BASEBALL STREAK. AND STILL HAPPY AS A CLAM. I AM, OF COURSE, STILL ROOTING FOR THE SOX FOR THE SERIES, BUT I'M NOT NEARLY AS EMOTIONALLY INVESTED IN CRUSHING THE CARDINALS AS I WAS IN CRUSHING THE YANKS.

MY DAD'S COMING TO TOWN THIS WEEK. HE'S BEEN SURREPTITIOUSLY COMMENTING ON OLD POSTS LATELY. I REMEMBER, BACK WHEN THE BLOG FIRST STARTED, THAT PARENTAL READERSHIP KIND OF FREAKED ME OUT WHEN I WANTED TO WRITE ABOUT, UM, SHALL WE SAY, CONTROVERSIAL TOPICS. NOW, THOUGH? I'M RELATIVELY IMMUNE. WELCOME TO NYC, DAD, YOU BIG EX-MORMON GAY BADASS!

SPEAKING OF BIG GAY DADS, JOHN FROM BLURBOMAT (YOU KNOW - HEATHER'S HOT HUSBAND) POSTED A NIFTY DEFENSE OF GAY MARRIAGE TODAY. YOU SHOULD CHECK IT OUT, NOT ONLY FOR THE POST ITSELF, BUT ALSO FOR THE HUNDRED SOME-ODD INTRIGUING COMMENTS. GOOD TO KNOW BLOGGERS HAVE BRAINS, EVEN WHEN THEY DISAGREE.

FOR MY PART, YEAH, I SUPPORT IT. I SAY THIS KNOWING THAT RELIGIOUS FOLKS ARE OFTEN EXTREMELY PUT OFF BY SUCH AN IDEA, EVEN IF THEY HAPPEN TO BE SOME OF THE MOST TOLERANT INDIVIDUALS AROUND. THE THING IS, WE'RE TALKING ABOUT MARRIAGE LAW. THE STATE RECOGNIZED CONTRACT IS WHAT'S AT STAKE, NOT THE FOUNDATION OF EVERY RELIGION THAT SAYS HOMOS ARE BAD. THOSE CHURCHES THAT DON'T SUPPORT GAY MARRIAGES WON'T HAVE TO PERFORM THEM - IT'S NOT AN ISSUE. THEY NEVER WOULD HAVE HAD TO. LEGAL GAY MARRIAGE WOULD SIMPLY ALLOW SAME SEX COUPLES TO GO TO THE LOCAL JUDGE AND GET HITCHED LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE. HOW THE HELL IS THAT BAD? IT'S NOT AS IF SOME GAY POLICE ARE GOING TO COME AROUND AND CHASTISE YOU FOR BEING HETEROSEXUAL, OR EVANGELICAL CHRISTIAN, OR RACIST... OKAY, OKAY, THE CONNECTIONS ARE NOT SO WELL ARTICULATED. BUT I CAN'T HELP COMPARING THE RUCKUS TO THAT OVER INTERRACIAL MARRIAGE BACK IN THE DAY. THERE ARE STILL FOLKS AROUND NOW (I HAD THE MISFORTUNE OF HAVING ONE AS A NEIGHBOR LAST SUMMER, SHUDDER) WHO STILL THINK EVEN THAT'S TABOO. TIMES CHANGE. GET OVER IT.

RIGHT. HAPPY ALL-CAPS DAY.

Johnny be good... oh wait! You were! Thanks, then!

2004-10-21T01:28:00.000-04:00

Johnny Damon reaches official longhair boyfriend status with his kinda game winning grand slam!

Was that not nearly as enthusiastic as I meant it to sound? Okay, then.

OOOOWWWW!!! Muthafucka! Yeeeeeeeaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Fucking Yankee bitches!

Did I mention that I actually live in the Bronx, the borough that the Yankees call home? No? Did you also note that I use proper grammar occasionally? Yes? FUCK YOU YANKEES! OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

Oh, and, um. Yankees fans are the ugliest, least sportsmanship fans out there. They threw their crap all over the field twice last night, delaying the game, over (properly) controversial calls. Whiney ass pussies. FUCK YOU! Do you think you're helping your team by prolonging the already-prolonged game? Why didn't you let your guys get a little rest, eh? Might've won this one... but, oh! Too late! Already lost! It's a Sox series now, kids! Why don't ya comfort yourselves with more Sox longhairs suck jokes? Fuckers. Yankees fans are bad, surly fans, ya bastards. Never mind that I'm alienating half my readers. I don't care.

Oh, and my most hated Yankee? Jorge Posada. HUGE ASSHOLE. Luckily, none of us will have to see him again for a good six months. Hurrah.

More Love

2004-10-19T09:20:00.000-04:00

David Ortiz, you are my new boyfriend.

A really alert reader pointed out in the comments to the last post that I live in New York, yet cheer for the Red Sox. What insane irony! Well, here's the deal:

1. I hate the Yankees. A lot of people hate the Yankees. I cheer for the Sox not because I love them, but because I hate the Yankees. This resembles my political reasoning - I vote for Kerry not because I really really love him, but because he looks soooo good next to that asshat G. W. Bush. (Oh, did you read the New York Times Magazine article? Good stuff.)

2. I hate the Yankees because I really DO like one of their other (many) longtime rivals, the Mets. Even though the Mets suck. This reveals a lot about me, no? Masochism for everyone!

3. My dear sainted Grandma (who's actually Canadian, so shouldn't she like the Blue Jays or the Expos or something?) never, ever misses a Sox game, spending every temperate evening of the Maine summer patiently knitting, cursing about George Steinbrenner, and worshipping at the alter of Johnny Damon. Just kidding about that last part. Better start hitting, longhair.

4. The other side - the "in-laws, or not"- also has some New England going on. I get brownie points for liking the Sox.

Two more, kids, two more!

Love

2004-10-18T19:23:00.000-04:00

OhmyGodstupid resdsox don't fuck this up you fuckers dear god

4-2 do or die & martinez is about to pitch to matsui, even though he's at 104 pitches and starting to walk everybody & Jeter's mother...

fuckers

Three Things

2004-10-14T00:25:00.000-04:00

Yeah, three. Politics, Yankees, and the personal.

Politics

Is there anything new to say? No, really? Except that Bush is now stealing Kerry's "More of the same" line. So original, G.W. Clever, even. Not. No, seriously, having actually read the New York Times Magazine article that every left & right pundit is currently creaming over (at least until the newest bouncey debate polls come out) I can only conclude that I picked the right guy. Imagine, he was thinking seriously about terrorism strategy a decade before Bush was (not) elected! Fascinating! Perhaps he'll have a plan that actually works? Even MORE fascinating! Hell, I was voting for him anyway. This is just a better reason.

OH! I'm watching John Edwards on Nightline right now, and this leads me to wonder: Does EVERY STINKING STATE have a ruffley blue curtain for every candidate to talk in front of? I'm just sayin'.

Damn Yankees

Okay, Joe Torre. Now it's personal. You'd better let my 86 year old Grandma see a Red Sox series before she dies,because I'll be REALLY MAD if you don't. Oh, and my brother in law (well, not so much in law... Brother in Lawless?) will also be in a funk for weeks if the Sox can't do this thing. So, uh, let's get the bad pitchers out there, eh?

Aside: Today, bringing groceries home from the Key Food (red meat, if you must know...) Kiernan was joking around with me about tonight's playoff game. The joking turned into nasty-talking when he merrily chirped, "Derek Jeter sucks."

"No, honey. That's a very bad thing to say. Never say 'sucks.'

"Aside from the whole suck thing, Derek Jeter is awesome. Wouldn't you be psyched if he joined the Mets?"

"Yeah."

"So he doesn't suck, right? He's an amazing athlete."

"Yeah."

"Hate the team, not the player. HATE THE TEAM, buddy."

"Yeeesssss. Hate the Yankees. Haaaaatttteee."

Personal

Have I ever mentioned how truly excellent my man is? I came home tonight to Mr. Tim warming water on the stove, the better to soak my tired feet in. What a nice boy. Enough to forget that his mom (my "mother in lawless") laughed out loud and said "you're kidding?" when he finally, shamefully told her what I do for a living. Beeeatch. What, you thought I was a Wall Street trader by now? State College educations can only get ya so far, honey.

I am Superman, and I Know What's Happening

2004-10-12T09:09:00.000-04:00

Christopher Reeve - Superman, for those of you who have lived in a cave for the past two decades - died over the weekend, and that produced sadness in the hearts of the adults of Duff-Co Inc. The kid? The kid doesn't know from Superman.

Anyway, Esther expresses said sadness a lot better than I do. Perhaps that's why writing is her job.

Speaking of Boston...

2004-10-10T19:23:00.000-04:00

Check out Being Jennifer Garret. I've been reading her for awhile, and she always has the best, most recently updated and passionate Red Sox fan commentary. Among other good things, including her roommate's pit bull.

SPORTS! Jets 16 (4-0) - Bills 14 (0-4)

2004-10-10T19:09:00.000-04:00

Photo finish madness! Last minute game winning field goals! Yow!

Back in the day, back when the Bills lost four Superbowls in a row, I lived in Buffalo and the Bills were my hometown team. I couldn't have given a shit about football.

These days, I'm with a stereotypical male, a male who loves his Mets and his Jets and his Rangers. (He doesn't care all that much about basketball. But, given a choice, he'll cheer for the Red Sox or the Bills or the Patriots or the Sabres or the Canadiennes. He's equal opportunity. I, however, am partisan.) He's made a monster. I am Jets girl.

And I could care less that my hometown team just lost. Fuck 'em. The Jets are my football-love home town.

(Oh, did I mention that I'm hoping for a Sox - Yankees playoff? Only so the Yankees can succumb to their short sighted and horrible pitching lineup, and die in humiliation in the face of the Sox. I dig the Mets. The enemey of my enemy is my friend, and so forth. Not to mention that a Sox win would make my 86 year old New England Grandma very, very happy. Fuck you, Yankees.)

Newsy Bits

2004-10-10T14:15:00.000-04:00

Jacques Derrida died. Way to propel all of the comp lit majors into throes of existential angst, Jacques.

Also, Jen over at Good Intentions has a clip of Dick Cheney checking out Cate Edwards' ass. Priceless.

Jackass (and a degree of blogination to boot)

2004-10-10T13:47:00.000-04:00

Have I mentioned lately that I think Ursus is awesome? A jackass, sure, but awesome nonetheless.

We had a request for the Mary-Kate Olsen dish. Ask and ye shall receive.

It involves two sightings, actually, neither by me. One was by Ursus (see above for Ursus' awesomeness / jackass content.) Ursus' work brings him into the circles of the rich and famous and weird much more often than most normal people. The Olsens were included in that circle of rich weirdness on at least one occasion. But that's not the story I was talking about!

The real Olsen sighting that I had in mind was reported by one Tim, boyfriend (or "looovahhh", whichever you like - see Erin Go Blog - ) of the house.

Mary Kate wandered her waifish little ass into Tim's store, apparently seeking some fuel of the caffeinated variety. Only, he says she was the same size as Kiernan. Since Kiernan is an exceptionally scrawny and disproportionately tall eight year old boy, I found this disturbing. Intrepid reporter Tim also claims that she looked terrible, all wrinkly clothes and uncombed hair, generally unwashed and apparently just out of bed. Don't the Olsens have someone to go out and get them their coffee while they shower? Maybe she was just disoriented, going solo and all. It's hard to stand up straight when you only weigh 60 pounds and don't have your sister to prop you up.

I wish I were rich and famous enough that people would notice when I look terrible, instead of just thinking I'm a homeless crazy person. That might be a refreshing twist.

Oh, and speaking of sightings that I actually saw... I saw that indie actor guy (uh, would a little research on my part be helpful? Probably. Keep wishin'.) on the corner of Lexington and 77th st., outside the subway stop. I don't know this guy's name, and his roles are dubious at best, so you probably wouldn't know it, either. But, he played Simon in the movie "Henry Fool" with Parker Posey (that was so helpful, no? Oh. I'm sorry.) He also played the foot fetish pimp in the Sex and the City episode where Charlotte gets free Manolo Blahniks for allowing him to touch her feet. Yes, he's a creepy, weird looking little guy. But much less so on a street corner in a nice suit in real life.

Update: Yes, I felt guilty and actually looked up this guy's name. James Urbaniak was my celebrty sighting of the week. He played Robert Crumb in "American Splendor" (which was actaully a cool little film - I enjoyed it, anyway) and also appeared in "Confessions of A Dangerous Mind" and "Legally Blonde 2". Also, like all good New York City actors, he's portrayed the bad guy in episodes of both "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit" and "Law & Order: Criminal Intent". Thank me with cash.

Long Awaited Update Post (I just knew you were glued to your monitors!)

2004-10-08T09:21:00.000-04:00

Phew! Loong week. I still be alive, just busy busy busy. Which is good. That means money money money.

(One of my clients is a doctoral candidate in psychology. She wrote me a very nice email expressing concern over my stress level. It was so kind - yet, disturbing).

So, I haven't had so much time to post. Also, I was sick earlier in the week (did you note the "stuffed up" mood? That unkymood ain't kidding, sister) so every spare moment was spent lying prone on the couch feeling sorry for myself and cajoling the men in my household (Max included) to rub my poor tired feet and cuddle.

Now, though, I'm BETTER! I'm BACK! And I've GOT back! Whooo!

So, uh, so many things... whaddya want to hear?

1. More celebrity sitings - though, be forewarned, these mostly involve the fact that Mary-Kate Olsen is the same size and build as Kiernan -

2. Dog stories (mostly the status of gay Thurston Howell's refrigerator. And it's booze and tobacco content. And his general weirdness. Oh, and how his dog gives me occasion to explore Central Park, which is kind of cool...)

3. More dog stories, or "The freaks I meet in Pelham Bay Park" and how there was just a murder there, and then they found out there were teenage white supremacist cross burnings in the SAME GROVE WHERE I WALK ONE OF THE CLIENT DOGS, NOT TO MENTION MY OWN!

Oh, oh, and how I have a sex life again? That's a great story, but I'm not telling you that. You need to go to one of those titillating blogs for that.

And the debate - yeah, I watched it, but no comment. It's a VP debate. Soooo irrelevant. As John Stewart put it, kind of Death Star General vs. Student Council President (though, honestly, I thought it was a draw, but more because of the "expectations game" than anything else - don't you love politico-journo jargon?)

And how I'm watching the other debate tonight, which promises to be much more fun... and mama's buyin' some booze for that one, let me tell ya! (Which may or may not result in a second informal Pelham Bay Bronx poll. Call it "Pulse of the Borough").

Oh, and how I need to get up and shower RIGHT NOW and go to work, but I'm procrastinating. And how I'm pretty sure I walk about 15 miles a day (I could have finished the Appalachian Trail by now! Christ!) but I need to make sure with a pedometer, and how I have a blood blister on my heel (not pretty) but I start new health insurance Monday (yay, Tim!) and also how my day ends early today and I get to have actual LUNCH! In a RESTAURANT, not a subway car! With another adult, not an eight year old! Dear Lord! There might even be pints of beer involved! (That's why male friends are just cooler than female friends. They like pints of beer, not cosmopolitans. More cost-effective and less sugar-hangover inducing.)

Thick Skin

2004-10-04T17:10:00.000-04:00

I guess I'll know that I have finally arrived in New York when I can cross a street and pass a man on the corner muttering "Bitch! Watch your ass!" and not wonder whether he meant me. And not care.

He didn't look crazy.

Memeememe Me me!

2004-10-02T13:41:00.000-04:00

Man, so much ME! Me me me! Courtesy of Great Googly Moogly
. Bold means - yeah, I did that thing. Un bold means - no, I di'in't

01. Bought everyone in the pub a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula. (High School ex-boyfriend worked at a pet store. Until it burned down because of all of his stoner friends. Oh, and the stoner owner.)
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said 'I love you' and meant it
09. Hugged a tree (of course, I wasn't quite my natural, sane, hallucinogen free self, but...)
10. Done a striptease
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Stayed up all night long, and watch the sun rise
15. Seen the Northern Lights
16. Gone to a huge sports game
17. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
18. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
19. Touched an iceberg
20. Slept under the stars
21. Changed a baby's diaper (or 12,000)
22. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
23. Watched a meteor shower
24. Gotten drunk on champagne
25. Given more than you can afford to charity
26. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
27. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment (I guess it depends what "worst possible moment" entails. But yeah, a bunch of them.)
28. Had a food fight
29. Bet on a winning horse (even if it was only $1)
30. Taken a sick day when you're not ill
31. Asked out a stranger
32. Had a snowball fight
33. Photocopied your bottom on the office photocopier
34. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
35. Held a lamb
36. Enacted a favorite fantasy
37. Taken a midnight skinny dip
38. Taken an ice cold bath
39. Had a meaningful conversation with a beggar.
40. Seen a total eclipse. (Through one of those fourth grade cardboard "save your eyes" thingies...)
41. Ridden a roller coaster
42. Hit a home run
43. Fit three weeks miraculously into three days
44. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
45. Adopted an accent for an entire day
46. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
47. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
48. Had two hard drives for your computer
49. Visited all 50 states
50. Loved your job for all accounts
51. Taken care of someone who was shit faced
52. Had enough money to be truly satisfied (maybe now?)
53. Had amazing friends
54. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
55. Watched wild whales
56. Stolen a sign
57. Backpacked in Europe
58. Taken a road-trip
59. Rock climbing
60. Lied to foreign government's official in that country to avoid notice
61. Midnight walk on the beach
62. Sky diving
63. Visited Ireland
64. Been heartbroken longer then you were actually in love
65. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger's table and had a meal with them
66. Visited Japan
67. Benchpressed your own weight
68. Milked a cow
69. Alphabetized your records (and CD's and tapes and and and...)
70. Pretended to be a superhero
71. Sung karaoke
72. Lounged around in bed all day
73. Posed nude in front of strangers
74. Scuba diving
75. Got it on to "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye
76. Kissed in the rain
77. Played in the mud
78. Played in the rain
79. Gone to a drive-in theater
80. Done something you should regret, but don't regret it.
81. Visited the Great Wall of China
82. Discovered that someone who's not supposed to have known about your blog has discovered your blog
83. Dropped Windows in favor of something better
84. Started a business
85. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
86. Toured ancient sites
87. Taken a martial arts class
88. Swordfought for the honor of a woman
89. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
90. Gotten married
91. Been in a movie
92. Crashed a party
93. Loved someone you shouldn't have
94. Kissed someone so passionately it made them dizzy
95. Gotten divorced
96. Had sex at the office
97. Gone without food for 5 days
98. Made cookies from scratch
99. Won first prize in a costume contest (First grade. The "Letter People" parade. Remember the Letter People? I was Mr. K. I rocked.)
100. Ridden a gondola in Venice
101. Gotten a tattoo
102. Found that the texture of some materials can turn you on
103. Rafted the Snake River
104. Been on television news programs as an "expert"
105. Got flowers for no reason
106. Masturbated in a public place
107. Got so drunk you don't remember anything
108. Been addicted to some form of illegal drug
109. Performed on stage
110. Been to Las Vegas
111. Recorded music
112. Eaten shark
113. Had a one-night stand
114. Gone to Thailand
115. Seen Siouxsie live
116. Bought a house
117. Been in a combat zone
118. Buried one/both of your parents
119. Shaved or waxed your pubic hair off
120. Been on a cruise ship
121. Spoken more than one language fluently
122. Gotten into a fight while attempting to defend someone
123. Bounced a check (I didn't mean to! But alas, more than once...)
124. Performed in Rocky Horror
125. Read - and understood - your credit report
126. Raised children
127. Recently bought and played with a favorite childhood toy
128. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
129. Created and named your own constellation of stars
130. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
131. Found out something significant that your ancestors did
132. Called or written your Congress person
133. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over to be with the one you love (Hello, NYC!)
134. ...more than once? - More than thrice?
135. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
136. Sang loudly in the car, and didn't stop when you knew someone was looking
137. Had an abortion or your female partner did
138. Had plastic surgery
139. Survived an accident that you shouldn't have survived.
140. Wrote articles for a large publication
141. Lost over 100 pounds
142. Held someone while they were having a flashback
143. Piloted an airplane
144. Petted a stingray
145. Broken someone's heart
146. Helped an animal give birth
147. Been fired or laid off from a job
148. Won money on a T.V. game show
149. Broken a bone
150. Killed a human being
151. Gone on an African photo safari
152. Ridden a motorcycle
153. Driven any land vehicle at a speed of greater than 100mph
154. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced
155. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol
156. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
157. Ridden a horse
158. Had major surgery (I don't know what counts as major, but I've been under general anesthesia)
159. Had sex on a moving train
160. Had a snake as a pet
161. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
162. Slept through an entire flight: takeoff, flight, and landing
163. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
164. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
165. Visited all 7 continents
166. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
167. Eaten kangaroo meat
168. Fallen in love at an ancient Mayan burial ground
169. Been a sperm or egg donor
170. Eaten sushi
171. Had your picture in the newspaper
172. Had 2 (or more) healthy romantic relationships for over a year in your lifetime (Ummm... I'm not sure how healthy ANY of my relationships have been, but what the hell.)
173. Changed someone's mind about something you care deeply about
174. Gotten someone fired for their actions
175. Gone back to school
176. Parasailed
177. Changed your name
178. Petted a cockroach
179. Eaten fried green tomatoes
180. Read The Iliad
181. Selected one "important" author who you missed in school, and read.
182. Dined in a restaurant and stolen silverware, plates, cups because your apartment needed them
183. ...and gotten 86'ed from the restaurant because you did it so many times, they figured out it was you
184. Taught yourself an art from scratch
185. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
186. Apologized to someone years after inflicting the hurt
187. Skipped all your school reunions
188. Communicated with someone without
189. Been elected to public office
190. Written your own computer language
191. Thought to yourself that you're living your dream
192. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
193. Built your own PC from parts
194. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn't know you
195. Had a booth at a street fair
196. Dyed your hair (Red. Purple. Blue. Black. Red as in redhead red. Recently, brown to hide gray. Lots of premature grey. Gave up. Now have natural gray & black hair.)
197. Been a DJ
198. Found out someone was going to dump you via LiveJournal
199. Written your own role playing game
200. Been arrested (You didn't know that, did ya?)

Okay, okay. Some I wasn't sure. Some I've done similar things. I.e., #134: I've never walked the Golden Gate Bridge. I've walked the Brooklyn Bridge, though. And #159 - I've never had sex in a moving train. But I've done a lot of other stuff in a moving car. And #94 - I have no way of knowing whether I've made anyone dizzy just by kissing them. I guess if anyone who's ever kissed me ever finds this site, you could clear that up. But that doesn't seem like a good thing. Maybe more of a halitosis thing.

I didn't take notes this time...

2004-10-01T01:02:00.000-04:00

But, uh? This particular flub? This was downright Freudian. Yeowh.

"Of course we‘re after Saddam Hussein—I mean bin Laden."

Yeah, Bush. Priceless.

Jeebus! Debate Madness!

2004-09-30T23:41:00.000-04:00

Alright, alright. OF COURSE I just watched the debate. For the record, I thought Kerry kicked some ass!

Why, you say? Because he had answers while Bush shuffled around. Because all Bush had was "you can't support the troops while you change positions" (rearrange twenty times & you'll have all of Bush's rebuttals.) Because Kerry came off like a smart man while Bush came off like a jackass. Yadda yadda. Do we want a Jackass leading the country? No. THAT'S why I think Kerry kicked some ass.

Yet, I did an informal poll around the hood (let me tell ya, that's fun to do on the beer run following the debate.)

Total, in my working class (not welfare class, WORKING class) nabe in the Bronx?

5 Kerry, 1 Bush. 1 admitted non-voter. 1 whom I suspect is a non-voter (i.e., I don't think he has citizenship. My friendly local Pakistani 7-Eleven merchant.) That makes three Kerry, one Bush. Two were hollaed at from my fire escape.

"Hey!"
"What, me?"
"Yeah! Who you like, Bush or Kerry?"
"Wha?"
"For President! Bush or Kerry!"
"Yo, gimme Kerry."
"Word. Have a good night!"

One on line at the 7-Eleven (on said beer run).

"Did you watch the debate? I'm doing an informal poll."
"Naw, I was working."
"Who do you like? Bush or Kerry?"
"Aw, gimme Kerry. Defnitley Kerry. Anybody but the other guy."

And the lone Bush supporter, the first that I asked:

"Hi, I'm doing a highly informal poll. Do you like Bush or Kerry?"
"Bush."
"Why is that?"
"Well, you know the other guy, you don't know where he stands. Bush can take out the terrorists."
"Okay. Did you watch the debate just now?"
"I did. I can't trust Kerry."
"Okay. Thanks for talking to me! Have a great night!"

Three beers in her Katie is outgoing Katie.

In other news, I haven't posted lately cause I've been busy as a motherfucker.

Dog walking? I have a new client. He's the gay Thurston Howell the III. WASP to the hilt. Thoroughly annoying - talks to me like a child, assumes I'm incompetent. Jesus Christ. Calls me three times a day to make sure I'm not shutting his dog's tail in an elevator. But he's paying me a couple hundred a week. Worth the trauma. Actually told me, during our first meeting, that he uses the Village Voice to clean his dog's shit because that's all it's good for. Chahhhhhrrrrming.

Tim? We're all good. I was a little bit PMS-ey, I think. Sorry. I'll forgoe PMSing blog posts from now on, much like the Mormon blog posts. So unsexy. Eeeee!

Oh, and Bill O'Reilly was a slick move, too....

2004-09-26T20:13:00.000-04:00

So, did you know Bill O'Reily supports:

- Gay marriage? Rather, civil unions for everyone, hetero OR gay?
- Gay adoption? (In the worst case, kid's goin to foster care, scenario?) Wait -n doesn't everyone beleive in that? He actually said "a loving gay family, as opposed to the system".

And disputes:

- The war in Iraq?
- The lies and/or misinformation regarding WMD's?
-The automatic christening of George W. Bush?

The Bill O'Reilly interview on 60 Minutes was unexpectedly flattering. I was surprised.

(SHUT UP!)

Oh, and lest you think this is a girly, "my boyfriend did that bad thing.." blog...

2004-09-26T19:27:00.000-04:00

Way to save face, 60 Minutes! The whole "AL Zarqawi is bad. Forget those Bush Nat'l Guard memos..." was way smooth. You even got Powell in there, telling the U.N. that Zarqawi is bad in IRAQ. Good call. Make the conservatives dig you again. So many smart producers... except for that one, FEMALE one, 'cause everyone knows she sucks for the lack of fact-checking...

Redeaux

2004-09-26T18:50:00.000-04:00

Remember that quiz I was so psyched up about? The one that said I was a firebrand? According to that quiz, our problems are mostly my fault. That quiz was so right. Here are Tim's results.

You are a XPIT--Expressive Practical Intellectual Taker. This makes you a Manager.

You are cool, thoughtful and intelligent. Your approach and your sense of humor are under-the-radar, your charm is undeniable. You keep everything under control. You have distinctive vocal mannerisms. You may not have much interest in approaching strangers, but when you do, you are successful.

You will probably end up with someone beautiful, fascinating and off-balance. While your partner may steal the limelight, it's you that keeps things running smoothly and provides stability in your relationship. If you are with someone as contemplative and hard-headed as you, you can have a tough time.

Your greatest asset is that you tackle conflict as it rises -- you don't ignore it and let it brew. If you have a partner that *does* let it brew, it will make you crazy! You can find yourself fighting for two -- trying to anticipate your partner's needs and draw their feelings out -- which is exhausting and, well, not your job.

You would never cheat. You would make an excellent spouse. When your spouse's friends met you, they would think, "Crap, why couldn't I get that one?"

Of the 107668 people who have taken this quiz, 6 % are this type.

Man, why the fuck am I such a girl?

Sexless In The City

2004-09-26T11:41:00.000-04:00

I've added a couple of new things to my blogroll. (Actually, I constantly add new things to my blogroll. I just wanted to talk about these.)

Kinky Bitch

and

Dear Buster

Why do I want to talk about these? 'Cause they're sexy. Oh, and I'm lacking the sexy.

I went out and had a few beers with an old friend a few nights ago. It was fun. He told me I have the brain of a man trapped in a woman's body (which makes sense, considering that fucking gender genie thing - did I mention that before? That stupid gender genie thing that everyone's linking to is convinced I'm a man. It's like the Christina Aguillera SNL, in the Sex & The City final episode sketch, and she's Samantha, and all "I'm a maaaan..."). But, uh, I don't have the brain of a man - at least, it's well-tempered by estrogen. Because I freak out like only a girl can freak out.

This particular old friend also happens to be an old flame, so to speak, even though we still hang out and have a good old time as friends (without any specific benefits other than general friendship). Friendship notwithstanding, I spent most of that night fending off perceived sexual tension, mostly by talking about Tim a lot.(if either of you are reading this, it's ME! All me! Because I'm crazy and perceive sexual tension in the strangest of places! So, don't feel weird. or bad. or jealous. Or whatever. That's the ticket - just feel 'whatever'.)

So, the thing with me & Tim? It's been a few years. We're tired out by the usual things you must do to maintain a decent standard of living. You know, work and dishes and helping with the homework and cooking the dinner and so forth. All of our friends, wise enough in their younger years NOT to have gotten accidentally pregnant, are childless, and still have time to go into drama mode over a new boy, or to go to the bars at night and try to get laid with new girls. Or whatever it is single people without children do - I can't remember.

We don't have time for any of the above. We also fight a lot, mostly because we're both really stubborn and both like getting our own way just a bit too much. We don't find each other particularly sexy anymore. Sometimes one of us is sad and the other doesn't get it and gets kind of angry because the other thinks it must be something they did, but they're so tired form DOING all of the necessary things that they can't figure out what else they possibly COULD do so that the other wouldn't be sad. We love each other - very much - but sometimes we forget and say mean things, things like "I don't think this relationship is going anywhere - I don't see us doing anything like getting married - and we fight all the time, so maybe we ought to just forget about it." It's not much like a new, young people's relationship at all.

So, uh, all this old people relationship stuff leads to not-as-much-sex-as-Katie-needs to function like a normal human being. Trust me, it's a lot. I think the longest I've ever gone without was when I was single and pregnant (what, you wouldn't want to hook up with the single pregnant chick? You're kidding!) and even that was only about five or six months. I realized the other day that I haven't been single since Kiernan was six months old - he's eight now. (oh, and if that sounds weird, you have to know the back story. Mom & Dad didn't start operating as Mom AND Dad until a few years ago.)

Alright, alright, enough with the kvetching. Back to the old friend. This particular old friend ALSO happened to bring along a gift - a finely rolled parcel of mind-obliterating Jamaican ganja. Tim & I haven't smoked any pot in a LONG, looooooonnnnggg time. We're responsible parents & all of that. (Mostly, that just means we don't have any connections or extra cash anymore. It was a very nice gift.)

I came home. We smoked it (only half - we had to put the thing down without finishing...)

And for that night and the next, SEXFEST! Yay! The world has never been so at ease as when a certain two people were able to forget all of the anxiety causing, life-sucking stress and debt and crap that we try to wrap our poor tired brains around every single day and just get to fucking. Oh, and their fat bellies. They were able to forget about their fat bellies as well.

But the joint is gone now, and it's back to sexless in the city. Because we love each other, but we're tired, and stressed, and in debt, and too busy doing dishes and taking the dog out to pee. Blahrg.

So, then another, different, old friend calls, and she's all a tizzy about this new boy that she met on the internet who came to see her. And I'm all, "That's great! Aren't you happy?" And she's all, "Ooooh, I don't know..." and I couldn't carry on the conversation because I had to leave and go see a dog walking client, but I kept thinking about it for the rest of the day. I kept thinking things like, "Wow, that didn't make her happy? Why not? She'd probably die if she had to live in this house..." and other assorted negative crap. I'm very good at highlighting otherwise forgotten negative crap.

So, this morning, Tim crawled out of bed and climbed on the train at some un-godly hour, oh, five a.m. or so? (Do you wonder why he's not doling out the attention? That's why.) And he went to work while I snuggled in our big empty bed, with all of the pillows and blankets all to myself and the dog curled on top of my feet and keeping them nice and warm. And at 9:30, the phone rang, and I leaned over to answer it because I was just starting a slow, weekend awakening.

It was Tim. For no other reason than that he was thinking about me curled up in bed.

And what kind of asshole am I? I'm sitting there second guessing the poor guy.

"Why are you calling? For no reason? Huh?"

Tim told me, rightly so, that I have to stop projecting other people's negative perceptions about their relationships onto my relationship.

I just think I'm flat out, no holds barred crazy, and I don't understand. Do I need a shrink (uh, yeah, that goes without saying.) Do I need something beyond that? What? AAArg!

This is the real answer. I would have been with Tim for three years this Thanksgiving. I am a serial monogamist. Three years is my limit. I've kicked every man who's ever lasted that long to the curb within a month (give or take) of the three year anniversary. This one has a child with me. This one is a lot harder to just ditch. I think I'm scared shitless, but I'm not quite sure. Insight, anyone? Non-objective third party advice? Stiff slugs of whiskey? Or maybe more of that Jamaican stuff?

Any of the above would be appreciated. Yikes, what a crazy bitch.

Peace Train

2004-09-23T09:04:00.000-04:00

Cat Stevens:

Pacifist singer / songwriter. Performed a gazzilion floaty mellow happy hippy songs, including Peace Train, Wild World and the soundtrack to Harold and Maude.

A.K.A. Yusuf Islam, widely feared international Islamic fundamentalist terrorist honcho.

Did you see what all this Mormon talk did to my ads? Dear God...

2004-09-21T19:01:00.000-04:00

Brooks commented on the last post:

Mormons kind of creep me out.

Ha! As well they should.

No, seriously, Mormons - and this is not my independent opinion, but also that of several friends who have spent significant time out on the left coast - are some of the friendliest, nicest, most sincere people around. The nicest people to be found who also consider caffeine consumption to be a sin to be reckoned with.

Ex-Mormons will tell you how creepy they are. Born agains will tell you they worship the devil. I'll tell you I'm an atheist, but it's not because of them (I blame the liberal arts degree in philosophy. It'd be tough to make it through as a believer unless one had a serious stranglehold on one's faith which, needless to say, I did not.)

I've also noticed a big ex-Mormon presence in the blogosphere lately. Dooce, of couse, and her fine husband Blurbomat; I've heard This Fish is on the same page; hell, even Tony Pierce is talking about his friend's motorcycle riding ex-Mormon roomate.

I have to qualify my Mormon experience by saying that we were East cost Mormons, part of a congregation full of converts, as opposed to West coast Mormons, for whom belief in the Book of Mormon and the imbibing of Sprite and 7-Up with every meal is akin to a genetic code. East coast Mormons are like garden variety Sunni Muslims; West coast Mormons are more Wahabi jihadists with blond hair and a smile.

So, I started seeing through the "a woman's place is to make a comfortable home and to stand by the decisions of the head of the family (preferably while happily married and pumping out babies by, say, 25)" and the tithes as extortion (you're supposed to give 10% of all your income to the church, much like a collection plate. Only you have to put it in a little envelope with your name on it and if the Bishop notices yours has been a little light lately, well, no youth Temple trip for you!) at a relatively early age.

The political agenda kind of bothered me, too; as I said, we were converts, and my parents were good old fashioned New England liberal academics. They had me pretty indoctrinated at an early age -- I could recognize Jimmy Carter by sight in 1977, when I was, what, three? It stands to reason that a church so enamored of family values, pioneer spirit and apple pie at the pot luck dinner would have a natural affinity for the Republican party, but to spend the tithe money on lobbyists to block gay marriage in Hawaii? (For one - and that was a long time ago. But it bothered me that my personal income was going that way.) I distinctly remember one afternoon at church ( and let me tell you, you spent ALLLLL afternoon in Church - being Mormon takes a serious time commitment) listening to one very sweet lady's testimony on how we were all so lucky to have such a great man of God leading us, President Ronald Reagan. I was very confused. Around our house, Reagan was Satan himself.

That wasn't all of it. I was the smart kid that tried to get something out of Sunday school, rather than sneaking in to the woods at the back of the building and smoking cigarettes. I got pissed off when adults who were supposed to be teaching me the basic tenets of our mutual faith couldn't come up with answers to my most basic questions, and then shushed me with "It's a matter of faith. Maybe you need to work on your faith." Faith, my ass. I really wanted to feel something; for a time, I convinced myself that I did. But that faded, and I started to pretend I was sick on Sundays, and then to openly declare that I didn't believe anymore and was no longer going to attend church marathon. That was around 13 or 14. Caffeine soon followed. Ah, caffeine, you bastard gateway drug.

So, the kicker? The nail in the coffin kicker? My dad's excommunication from the Mormon church.

As I said, I ceased Mormon activity at around 13 or 14. Meanwhile, my father was asked to serve as Bishop of our congregation. The Mormons have a weird process for their clergy: the higher ups pray to God, asking who would make a good Bishop or Church Librarian or what have you. Once they have a decision, they ask, and you don't decline, because who are YOU to question GOD? Aside from your free time, it doesn't affect your life - Bishops can have a family, and so forth; in fact, a family (a LARGE family) is almost a prerequisite. They asked my dad. He accepted.

Only, thing was, my dad was a closeted gay man. A gay American, if you will. So God made a dilly of a pickle out of that one. And as the years passed, my dad finally concluded that he couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't be married (at least not to a heterosexual woman) he couldn't keepn pretending, and he certainly couldn't be Bishop of a congregation that hated his very kind. So, my courageous badass dad pulled a McGreevey on the whole chapel one Sunday afternoon, and he never went back.

(Aside: a few years later, I found myself in a psychiatric ward for a week [if you want to know why, see this post]with a fully believeing, yet gay, young Mormon. I think my dad was able to help him out a lot - every time he visited me in the hospital, he wound up talking to this kid for the whole time. In a good way. My dad's so cool.)

So, a couple of years run under the bridge, and here's 20 year old unwed preganat Katie. The Mormon CIA somehow found out about it and the Relief Society (sort of like the Junior League, but Mormon) started sending me handmade baby quilts and casseroles and doing the whole "take care of your own" thing for which the Mormons are rightly admired. No judgments, no sex out of wedlock adultery lectures, just nice people trying to help out. Mind you, it didn't sway me, but it was sincere and appreciated.

A few more months? My dad received his Mormon divorce papers in the mail. That is, they held a court (do other churches have court? it sounds so sinister...) and decided that all evidence pointed to my dad being an adulterer, and that since that's such a big sin, they were excommunicating him - reserving him a special place in Mormon hell (Mormons don't believe in hell - only "outer darkness".)

Thing is? He never commited adultery. Even when my parents were separated, he never dated or touched another soul, not until the divorce was legally final. And the other thing is? I surely did. I had the homemade baby quilts to prove it.

So I had to conclude that the Mormon version of God doesn't hold women to the the same standard as men, and that the Mormon God gets really pissed when his congregants embarass him by proving that he has pretty bad judgment, at least when it comes to picking Bishops. And that was the end of me ever considering faith in the Mormon God again. Especially when the Mormon God sent out the troops to convince my little brother (but not me or my sister - cause, you know, girls can't turn gay) that he shouldn't talk to our dad anymore because he was obviously one of Satan's minions. That's about the time my brother turned heathen, too.

These days, we're all heathens - even my mom ("you know, the church just doesn't work" Guess she needed to work on her faith, too.) I don't think we're any the worse for it. So don't worry about us. At least, not until judgment day.

9/20/82 (or, Happy Birthday, Adam!)

2004-09-20T16:27:00.000-04:00

Dooce -- a fellow recovered and radically reformed Mormon -- just reminded me of the time the Mormon missionaries from our church (two fine young corn fed Iowans, if I remember correctly - not even 20, so my brother is actually older now than they were then)came over for dinner, before our sister was born and Adam couldn't have been older than 2 or 3.

Missionaries coming over for dinner were not a huge deal. It's kind of expected among Mormons that you help these guys out, take them under your wing, cause gosh golly they sure don't know how to cook for themselves! (That, after all, would be women's work. The Mormons are very big on sex roles.) So, once every couple of weeks or so, we'd have a pair of gangly, earnest young men over to dinner.

This particular night must have been some kind of brought-to-you-by-Ortega tex-mex theme, because there were black olives and hot sauce on the table.

Adam, at 3, had a special passion for black olives that I can only compare to how adult Mormons must feel about their holy underwear. One of the elders -- I have no idea how anybody called the midwestern gangly still battling teen acne missionaries "elder" without guffawing all over their proffered Books of Mormon -- noted Adam's zeal and did what you'd expect some gawky 19 year old from Iowa to (not, however, what you'd expect someone referred to as "Elder")do. He dipped an olive in the hot sauce and gave it to my brother.

Now, my brother was a quiet, mellow, stoic kid. Still is. He wasn't one of those whiny crybabies; he sucked it up when he got hurt, and he couldn't care less if mom & dad left us with a babysitter. But this hot-sauced olive from hell made his little face contort into a magenta tinged replica of "The Scream", a position he held for a full ten minutes at least before he sucked in sufficient air to release THE LOUDEST HIGHEST PITCHED WAIL THAT EVER MADE A MORMON MISIONARY FEAR THE THREAT OF OUTER DARKNESS. And Adam has never enjoyed spicy food since.

Happy 22nd Birthday, Adam! Ain't it great to be a heathen?

Tim is a radio star

2004-09-19T19:40:00.000-04:00

Dear lord.

Tim is currently ranting live on WABC.

Somehow the guy started talking about Starbucks with him. He's advertising his actual store.

He does this - he'll call local talk radio, and they know him. It's bizarre. He's apparently been doing this since his teen years in Orange County, NY (at least he's not stoned on the air these days). He's smart enough to say something witty & interesting, and to give it right back to the hosts in a lucid enough manner that they don't just hang up on him. The last time was when Martha Stewart was sentenced - he called some radio guy to say just how happy he was, celebrating schadenfreude. He was a communications major in college; his big unrealized ambition was to be a sound guy for some front line war reporter for the BBC or NPR or Christian Science Monitor or whoever.

Back to Tim's current 15 minutes... Are we going to get to the political point? It apparently has something to do with McCain and Kerry - he burst into the room and turned the radio up really loud, without letting me know what the topic was --

Oh. It's this - Kerry is vague. We don't know what he stands for. These are Tim's thoughts for the New York metropolitan area (and Tim's no Bush fan.) He's going off so much that the host can't even cut him off.

The host just told him he's right to be cynical about both candidates. And imploring him to listen on Saturday nights (ha!)Oh, and told everyone to go to Tim's particular Starbucks. Which can only be good, I guess.

Oh, to be a psychotic news geek extrovert. At least I can be the mother of a psychotic news geek extrovert's child.

J-E-T-S JETS JETS JETS JETS!

2004-09-19T19:19:00.000-04:00

Have I mentioned that it's really fun to finally root for a winning team? Uh, Curtis Martin anyone? Yeee-ah. And little Mr. Pennington is shaping up nicely, as well. Jets over Chargers, 34-28 (though that last minute desperation Flutie doin' the touchdown by himself was pretty impressive. Make the most of your two minutes in the game, buddy.)

Oh, the non-winning team part... I haven't even paid my beloved Mets any mind since the All Star break (r.i.p, Art Howe) because they make me sad.

Sooo, GO SOX! (Love Mets = hate Yankees = love Red Sox. New England roots don't hurt - it's fun to talk baseball with my 86 year old rabid Sox fan grandma, too.) Yeah, they got pounded (11-1 Yankees) today, but they're still only 4 1/2 games back. If I can't have a Mets series (and the way they're looking, that's gonna be a few years), as least I might get a Sox one if they pull a few tricks.

I can say a lot of things about Tim, but one of the most telling would be that he's made me a sports fan. I can't wait 'till hockey season. Rangers, baby, Rangers. Or Sabres. I can't totally reject my Buffalo upbringing.

Free Free Free! Gmail Blowout! INSANE!

2004-09-18T18:44:00.000-04:00

Yeah, as if I hadn't mentioned it before, I have about 37,000 gmail invites lying around if anybody wants one. You don't even have to amuse me. That's how cool I am.

Pornolicious Politics

2004-09-18T18:06:00.000-04:00

Gashcroft
Originally uploaded by Katie Courtney.

Fun, fun, fun. Look close - if you don't get it, think Seurat. Found at NO BUSH IN '04.

Oh, wait. You can't enlarge it. I need to practice. Tutorial, anybody? This computer dumbass needs help. Anyway, that was my rainy Saturday experiment with Flickr. I think I dig it. And the Gashcroft thing? The picture is composed entirely of porn shots. It's fun. Check out the original at NO MORE BUSH IN '04

Yeah, they said "Firebrand". That's right.

2004-09-18T15:11:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking lately that I rely a little too heavily on quizzes when I'm too lazy or disheartened to post anything else. You'll note that the last several I've used have been incorporated into something more substantial.

However, this one was really fascinating. It's me - to a motherfucking tee (well, I see the unflattering parts more clearly than the flattering ones). Oh, and I emphasized the nice bits. So you'll rilly rilly want to read the words of such a fascinating creature (snort).

But seriously - take it if you like that sort of thing - it's pretty cool. I found it at Seriously Random.

You are a XSYT--Expressive Sentimental Physical Taker. This makes you a Firebrand.

You are volatile, sexy and sexually driven. You're magnetic and fascinating, but you don't really enjoy playing the field -- it makes you nervous and preys on your insecurities. But when you fall for someone you fall hard.

You tend to over-analyze things, so the slightest comment or action from your significant other can send you into a tailspin. You crave attention and validation from your loved ones, so if your friends don't like your partner or your partner doesn't like your friends it makes you suffer. Unfortunately the two are often in conflict -- you have excellent insight with your friends, but in a relationship you are blind. Trust your friends!

You blow hot and cold, with big highs and big lows. This makes the bad times very bad but the good times very good, so you tend to stay in a problem relationship much longer than you should. But when a relationship fails, you hold a grudge. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but make sure your grudge doesn't cloud your vision the other way.

What would help you most in your relationships is confidence. You need someone who can help you feel good about yourself and not worse.

You can be needy and jealous. Fortunately you are cute as hell.

Of the 86046 people who have taken this quiz, 5.8 % are this type.

I'm one out of eighty-six thousand, baby. You heard me right.

Hey, Ho

2004-09-17T20:20:00.000-04:00

Sorry I'm so slow... catching up from slow time, getting up to speed...

BUT I missed this story till today.

Johnny Ramone died yesterday at the age of 55, apparently of prostate cancer. Only one Ramone left (Tommy).

Who wants to go down to Joey Ramone Place by CBGB's and drink one for me... one for my homies?

WASP

2004-09-17T20:00:00.000-04:00

Last night, I had the rare pleasure of explaining something to my dear friend of many years, one Miss Jen.

It's a rare pleasure because, well, Jen knows a lot. She's got degrees up the wazoo and an unhealthy obsession with current events. But this, my friends? This bit of pop culture had eluded Jen. And if it eluded Jen, it may have eluded you too.

The question?

What is a WASP? (She thought it had something to do with Judaism. Ooooh, no.)

A WASP is a white anglo saxon protestant. You probably knew that part. A WASP is old money, connected to MA, NY or CT, north eastern liberal. A WASP may tend toward the uppity; certainly not toward the touchy-feely. Think George H.W. Bush (41). Does he look particularly hugable? No? That's what I mean.

I admit that I'm a bigot. A WASP bigot. I don't like those cold teutonic people (I know - I used to be employed by one). They freak me out, what with the flat-assed skinny women and the men in dress shirts even on the weekend. They're crawling all over Manhattan, and they disturb me in a deep down primal way. Worse than roaches. Oh, and did you ever read Bonfire of the Vanities by Tom Wolfe? Don't get in a WASP's way. They sting. Ouch. Scary.

So Anyway...

2004-09-17T18:43:00.000-04:00

This is kind of old news, I guess. But over at Eden's place, back around Sept. 8, there was a stir which resulted in a "Don't respond to my political opinions in my comment section - keep it in yer blog" policy. Now, I say Eden can do whatever she damn well pleases with her space; that's why I'm talking about it here, not there (and I must add that if you're NOT reading So Anyway, you should. Because I told you so.)

The post:

Vote for W or people will DIE!

"It's absolutely essential that eight weeks from today, on Nov. 2, we make the right choice, because if we make the wrong choice then the danger is that we'll get hit again and we'll be hit in a way that will be devastating from the standpoint of the United States." - Vice President Dick Cheney

Jee-zoos Christ.

Can someone please explain to me how W is ahead in these polls? Who are they polling? I hear people talking out in public and they hate W. I read blogs and people hate W (except for Jen). Where are these ignorant asshats who say they're planning to vote for a drug addict perjurer elitist?

Let's put the Vietnam issue to bed already. Anyone who was in the shit (Kerry, McCain) has every right to talk about who was & wasn't there and what they did. Anyone who wasn't in the shit (W, Cheney, etc.) should be ignored. Period. Besides, was this not 30 years ago? Bush's drunk driving arrest was more recent than that and no one likes to bring that up in a character debate.

Speaking of which, when are the debates? I can't wait to see W try and string together a sentence.

Well, definitely partisan, definitely full of piss & vinegar, but since when did THAT put anybody's panties in a twist? Um, Kids? It's a BLOG. Expect unqualified opinion, 'kay?

What really got me - and , apparently, Eden - was this comment by one Renee.

Re: Kerry and Vietnam - he's the one who keeps bringing it up. W has noted that Kerry was a reservist who happened to get called up and went where he was told. Good for him. It's a dead issue except to Sen. John "Reporting for Duty" Kerry.

The reason certain people (myself included, duh) think that Bush keeps us safer is that it's a known fact that most Dems including Kerry don't really think anything else will happen. If we let our guard down, it will. Bush won't let his guard down. Simple as that. I honestly don't think that you think anything else will happen. If you did, you most certainly wouldn't have the Bert and Ernie scale. It's not a joke. Please remember that on Saturday.

As for the debates, I personally thought W kicked Gore's boo-tay last go 'round (anyone remember that ridiculous "lock box" that wouldn't go away? VP Gore, what day is it? Lock box!!!). Leftist media saw it differently, of course. I expect to see the same results this time.

Renee, you are entitled to your opinion, like every other red blooded American. But for God's sake, woman! Do you honestly believe that "it's a known fact that most Dems including Kerry don't really think anything else will happen" ? Wha? WHO put that particular lump of shit into your pretty little head? I think a lot of Democrats (and others) oppose Bush precisely because he hasn't kept the defenses up in ways that matter (uh, Bin Laden, anyone?). You seem to be speaking in that doublespeak favored by uncritical Bush supporters: Iraq makes us safer. Diplomacy is bad. Terrorists hate freedom. Democrats are pussies. The economy is good.

And the rest: "I honestly don't think that you think anything else will happen. If you did, you most certainly wouldn't have the Bert and Ernie scale. It's not a joke. Please remember that on Saturday." (This was posted on 9/8; Saturday was the third anniversary of 9/11.)

Sweety, how, exactly, does mocking Tom "If it's yellow, it must be Tuesday!" Ridge's pathetic excuse for results translate to making a joke of 9/11? It's the Bush administration's handling of post 9/11 policy that's a joke, in my view. Probably Eden's, too, not to mention the hundreds of people besides she & I that overuse that particular button. I think it's called satire. Try it, you'll like it. Yarg.

Oh, and since it's Eden love fest day, I had to also include this rockin' "What kind of freaky mama are you?" quiz that she found. Cause we're both freaky mamas. And I looove me some crazy Generation X parents that make me feel like I'm not such a freak, afterall. Eden was a Power Puff mama. I'm....

You're an agitator! Your kids have grown up on the
front lines of rallies and pickets, and chances
are that you boycott at least one company for
its bad business practices. Your kids are
learning what matters to you and how they can
change what matters to them.

What kind of a freaky mother are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Disturbingly accurate, no?

Better

2004-09-15T18:19:00.000-04:00

I'm humbled. Seriously.

I'm touched that a bunch of people care about how I feel, especially since a lot of you are strangers. That's unbelievably affirming. Also, I'm slightly shocked and awed that you would come here and read my self indulgent crap in the first place. Yet, grateful. Hmm.

I've been flirting this "depression" thing for over 15 years. I remember a two week episode in the seventh grade when I just. Wouldn't. Leave. My bed. Classmates thought that I had moved away. I wasn't sick, or lazy, or horribly willful (though my bewildered parents tried calling me all of the above to make me just go to freakin' school). I was simply broken, and needed to curl up in the fetal position for awhile to fix myself.

In my late teens, I started to become really, frighteningly self-destructive. I drank too much and tried all kinds of crazy loopy drugs. Samantha from SATC had nuthin' on me. I was in college, but I didn't really go to college; I knew the truth - classes are for sleeping through. Within three years, I had made four suicide attempts, always by consuming vast quantities of medication (it got to the point where my shrink didn't want me to take anti-depressants, since I might use them.)

I'm not proud of all of that. It's hard to write it down - there are very few people out there that know the first thing about my story, and yet here I am, publishing it on the internet. I'm writing it down to illustrate how far I've come.

I'm 29 now. In the past decade, I've grown up a lot. I've figured out that my sadness comes from a long, long time ago, and that I have to figure out how to be now as opposed to how I was then. I've had a child and gotten him through eight years. That in itself kicked my ass enough to permanently end any two-week-fetal-position in bed ideas I might have harbored. I've gone through a long string of very nice men, picking and choosing what I thought would keep me happy and healthy, both at the time and for the long term.

I've also gone through a shit load of therapists, some touchy feely and terribly ineffectual, and others all "your life is your responsibility" tough love and oh-so-effective. I don't have one now, but I like to think I learned enough from the last one to last me a few years.

So, I know it comes sometimes. I know I'll get through it. It just gets kind of frustrating, especially when I can't find a trigger. That is, if I can't point to what set me off, it seems that much more uncontrollable, and I feel that much less adequate (vicious circle, that one), and this was one of those times.

Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks to the people who commented, and to the people who emailed (I'm sorry I never answered you, but yes, I'm feeling much better)...

AND, what says "Thanks" like an appropriately morbid Edward Gorey quiz??!! I love this stuff - so dark and dramatic, yet at the same time so silly. Kind of like a goth kid. Oh, and thank you for the inspiration.

You will be sucked dry by a leech. I'd stay away
from swimming holes, and stick to good old
cement. Even if it does hurt like hell when
your toe scrapes the bottom.

What horrible Edward Gorey Death will you die?
brought to you by Quizilla

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2004-09-13T17:09:00.000-04:00

Yes, folks, it's that time of year again. That's right. The first day of school. The day that my little munchkin becomes a part time ward of the state, and I get to have a life again -- for free, even.

I'm pleased by this. I'm also pleased by the fact that my dog walking service is starting to bring in some decent money, and by the fact that Tim just took a week of vacation and cleaned and reorganized lots of heinous corners of our apartment, and by the gradual shift in climate from "not that hot but stickier than Paris Hilton after a night at Bungalow 8" to "nice crispy snappy autumn sleeping weather". These developments are good.

The thing is, I'm not really excited about any of this. I'm not enthusiastic about much, truth be told. I'm irritable and cry at any perceived slight. In fact, my eyes are puffy from my last jag. I don't feel worthwhile or loved, to the point where I yell at those poor souls who try to tell me otherwise. I'm healthy and strong and beautiful, but I feel like doody.

I'm depressed.

I don't think medication would help - I think it's strictly personal emotional and psychological history, rather than a chemical imbalance - and it's really fucking with me and my family. This needs to end.

Help.

Top Ten Things I've Learned From Dog Walking

2004-09-10T23:22:00.000-04:00

1. Upper East Side women invariably have very flat asses and very thin lips. (No offense, Upper East Side readers. I'm sure you're the exception.)

2. Men in Harlem love me because I (don't have a) very flat ass or (very thin) lips. The catcalls serve as proof of this fact.

3. Everybody, no matter their borough or "help" affiliation, loves a cute puppy.

4. Dogs on the Upper East Side tend to be little whiny pussies who can't complete a walk around the block.

5. My Bronx dog (who can complete walks around twenty blocks without tiring) is much better behaved these days since I'm such a hardass from walking all of those little pussy Upper East Side dogs.

6. I aspire to be a tourist story (e.g., "I saw this crazy woman screaming at a cab that ran a red light, since he almost ran over her dog. Only in New York!")

7. Doormen are really cool people.

8. I am one with doormen since I am one of the "help".

9. Dogs don't give a shit whether you're the "help" or not, as long as you have treats (ohmygod ohmygod she's got TREATS!) and you are willing to take them outside.

10. If they say the veiny dildo chewing never happened, the veiny dildo chewing never happened.

Tucker... Unfiltered

2004-09-10T23:07:00.000-04:00

Christopher Hitchens (socialist cum hard-right conservative cum Vanity Fair Editor[?]) just made Tucker Carlson frown with respect on PBS. Hmmmmmm.

Dan Would Rather Not...

2004-09-10T18:28:00.000-04:00

... be vetted by a bunch of bloggers, I'm sure.

Can anyone help me with the details of the problem here? I'm not sure I understand. And no, that's not sarcasm.

As you may have heard, Dan Rather did a piece on George Bush's National Guard service on the most recent edition (Wednesday, Sept. 8)of 60 Minutes II. Apparently, part of the segment (I saw a few moments of it, but didn't pay so much attention)dealt with documents from Bush's advisers in the Guard, and were none too flattering.

Today, The New York Post published an article about the army of authenticators examining the documents.

- They're in Times New Roman 11. That's not right for a 70's era typewriter.
- They have all the marks of a Windows word processing program - i.e., the type is spaced so as to read fluidly (unlike a typewriter), the superscript in "187th", and so on. Again, 70's typewriters weren't commonly equipped with such features.
- One of the guys quoted in the Post said it looked to be the most obvious forgery he'd ever seen.
- BUT, 60 Minutes also had the documents authenticated - and they were given a pass.

So, none of the above presents any real challenge to my comprehension skills, although I've admittedly done next to no homework on the issue (walking other people's dogs keeps ya busy, don'tcha know!)

The thing I don't get is this: are the images shown onscreen during the segment - the ones that were suspiciously Windows era - claimed by CBS to be the original documents? Couldn't have 60 Minutes had some intern type them up in Word so that they'd look prettier on screen? Again, I'm not trying to be flip. I really don't know.

Part II of my discombobulation has something to do with the sordid journalistic nature of the New York Post. It's not, if you hadn't heard, the world's most reputable news source. It wouldn't surprise me at all if some Post reporter parroted the claims of an anonymous right-wing blogger and called "scandal!". Is the story bigger than that? Other news outlets, anyone? I'm trying to get a snapshot of whether this is just another NYC tabloid field day, or a real, live scoop (a la Abu Ghraib).

(And yeah, I know I'm lazy. You don't have to tell me.)

Since I haven't posted in three (?!) days...

2004-09-10T16:58:00.000-04:00

I found this at Her Own Invention.

Doggy Style Sex Toys

2004-09-07T20:00:00.000-04:00

Ewwwwwwwwww....

Name: Katie
Occupation: Sole Proprietor, Dog Walking service

It's always a little trying the first time you open up a new client's door. Will the dog be super protective and freak out? Will a puppy have lost all control and left piss and shit all over the place? You never know.

Today was a new one.

I started walking an adorable eight month old Boston Terrier today.

I unlocked the door to find Baxter in the middle of his living room, surrounded by puppy toys and the chewed up detritus of definite un-puppy toys. There was a bottle of shoe polish leaking on to the carpet, as well as a handily demolished brush. I followed the plastic trail to the bedroom.

There, all over the floor, were Baxter's mommy and daddy's

adult people's toys.

A pair of handcuffs. A big, veiny, penis shaped dildo. In pink. Feathers. Other stuff.

'Nuff said.

I debated whether or not to pretend it had never happened. He got into it in the afternoon. Right?

But I couldn't. After all, there was shoe polish on the floor. That's noxious - no good for young puppies. The other stuff (photographs, ziploc bags, other shoe maintenance paraphanelia) probably wasn't that great for him either.

I picked it all up and put it into the basket from whence it came. I put the basket on the dining table, out of Baxter's grasp. I put the shoe polish in the sink, after rinsing and removing their dirty dishes (what am I, a cleaning service, too?)

When we came home from the walk, I left a note:

Clients,

We had a great walk! But...

Baxter got into a little bit of trouble before I arrived. I've placed the things he got into on the table, out of his reach. You'll find a bottle of shoe polish in the sink.

May I suggest that you get him some "puzzle toys" ? You know, a stuffed Kong, or one of those food cubes. They help distract lonely puppies when their regular toys become boring.

Looking forward to tomorrow's walk!

Best,
Katie

I pray they're not so mortified that they never call me again. I could use the cash.

Shit, what would you do?

Hey, Mikey Likes It! But He Hates Everything! *

2004-09-07T01:02:00.000-04:00

* Free Gmail to anyone who gets that reference. Yeah, you'd have to have been born in the 70's, like me.

It won't be a surprise to many of you that I get Michael Moore's irregular newsletter.

Huge Discaimer:

I'm generally pretty far to the right of Michael Moore (who isn't, honestly?) Hell, I haven't even seen Farenheit 9/11. Is it out on dvd yet? If so, I haven't even rented it, and I'm a dvd kind of girl. I think he's a bit extreme and plays loose with the facts; lack of context, lack of background, and so forth.

That said, God bless him for being the lefty counterpart to blowhard assholes like Bill O'Reilly, Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, Michael Savage (well, I actually listen to him - he's more of a libertarian - but he's still pretty much an asshole blowhard), Laura Ingraham, Monica Crowley, and all the rest. He, Franken, and the limp Paul Begala are pretty much all we've got over on this side of the fence.

Here's the latest:

Why I Will Not Seek a Best Documentary Oscar
(I'm giving it up in the hopes more voters can see "Fahrenheit 9/11")

9/6/04
Dear Friends,

I had dinner recently with a well-known pollster who had often worked for Republicans. He told me that when he went to see "Fahrenheit 9/11" he got sodistraught he twice had to go out in the lobby and pace during the movie.

"The Bush White House left open a huge void when it came to explaining the war to the American people," he told me. "And your film has filled that void -- and now there is no way to defeat it. It is the atomic bomb of this campaign."

He told me how he had conducted an informal poll with "Fahrenheit 9/11" audiences in three different cities and the results were all the same. "Essentially, 80% of the people going IN to see your movie are already likely Kerry voters and the movie has galvanized them in a way you rarely see Democrats galvanized.

"But, here's the bad news for Bush: Though 80% going IN to your movie are Kerry voters, 100% of those COMING OUT of your movie are Kerry voters. You can't come out of this movie and say, 'I am absolutely and enthusiastically voting for George W. Bush.'"

His findings are similar to those in other polls conducted around the country. In Pennsylvania, a Keystone poll showed that 4% of Kerry's support has come from people who decided to vote for him AFTER seeing "Fahrenheit 9/11" -- and in an election that will be very close, 4% is a landslide. A Harris poll found that 44% of Republicans who see the film give it a "positive" rating. Another poll, to be released this week, shows a 21-point shift in Bush's approval rating, after just one viewing of the movie, among audiences of undecideds who were shown "Fahrenheit 9/11" in Ohio.

My pollster friend told me that he believes if Kerry wins, "Fahrenheit 9/11" will be one of the top three reasons for his election. Kerry's only problem, he said, is how many people will actually be able to see it before election day. The less that see it, the better for Bush.

But 20 million people have already seen it -- and the Gallup poll said that 56% of the American public has seen or plans to see "Fahrenheit 9/11" either in the theater or on home video. The DVD and home video of our film, thanks to our distributors listening to our pleas to release it before November, will be in the stores on October 5. This is very good news.

But can it also be shown on TV? I brought this possibility up in this week's Rolling Stone interview. Our contract with our DVD distributor says no, it cannot. I have asked them to show it just once, perhaps the night before the election. So far, no deal. But I haven't given up trying.

The only problem with my desire to get this movie in front of as many Americans as possible is that, should it air on TV, I will NOT be eligible to submit "Fahrenheit 9/11" for Academy Award consideration for Best Documentary. Academy rules forbid the airing of a documentary on television within nine months of its theatrical release (fiction films do not have the same restriction).

Although I have no assurance from our home video distributor that they would allow a one-time television broadcast -- and the chances are they probably won't -- I have decided it is more important to take that risk and hope against hope that I can persuade someone to put it on TV, even if it's the night before the election.

Therefore, I have decided not to submit "Fahrenheit 9/11" for consideration for the Best Documentary Oscar. If there is even the remotest of chances that I can get this film seen by a few million more Americans before election day, then that is more important to me than winning another documentary Oscar. I have already won a Best Documentary statue. Having a second one would be nice, but not as nice as getting this country back in the hands of the majority.

The deadline to submit the film for the documentary Oscar was last Wednesday. I told my crew who worked on the film, let's let someone else have that Oscar. We have already helped to ignite the biggest year ever for nonfiction films. Last week, 1 out of every 5 films playing in movie theaters across America was a documentary! That is simply unheard of. There have been so many great nonfiction films this year, why not step aside and share what we have with someone else? Remove the 800-pound gorilla from that Oscar category and let the five films who get nominated have all the attention they deserve (instead of the focus being on a film that has already had more than its share of attention).

I've read a lot about "Fahrenheit" being a "sure bet" for the documentary Oscar this year. I don't believe anything is truly a "sure bet." And, in the end, I think sometimes it's good for your soul to give up something everyone says is so easily yours (ask Olympic swimmer Michael Phelps why he gave up his spot in the last race to someone else equally deserving, and you'll know what I am talking about).

I have informed our distributors of my decision. They support me (in fact, they then offered to submit our film for all the other categories it is eligible for, including Best Picture -- so, hey, who knows, maybe I'll get to complete that Oscar speech from 2003! Sorry, just kidding).

Don't get your hopes up for seeing "Fahrenheit 9/11" on TV before the election. In fact, I would count on NOT seeing it there (you know me, I'm always going after something I probably shouldn't). Get to the theaters soon, if you haven't already, or get it from the video store in October and hold house parties. Share it with everyone you know, especially your nonvoting friends. I have included 100 minutes of extras on the DVD -- powerful footage obtained after we made the movie, and some things that are going to drive Karl Rove into a permanent tailspin -- more on this later!

Thanks for all of your support. And go see "Super Size Me," "Control Room," "The Corporation," "Orwell Rolls Over in His Grave," "Bush's Brain," Robert Greenwald's films and the upcoming "Yes Men." You won't be sorry!

Yours,

Michael Moore
mmflint@aol.com

P.S. If you want to read my dispatches for USA Today from inside the Republican Convention, go to www.michaelmoore.com.

Remeber his "win" last year? Ranters not welcome.

Ad Slut

2004-09-06T14:53:00.000-04:00

Yeah, you're right. I'm such a sell out. That's so not punk rock. Blah, blah, blah.

Yes, that's google ads that you see to the right side over there. It's basically unobtrusive, and any time you click on it, they throw a few pennies my way. If you love me, you might give it a few token clicks, just for shits and giggles.

I figure it's less blatant than a "Donate" link; I don't think there's anything wrong with that, per se, but I just don't feel comfortable asking people who are probably just as broke as I am for their money. I wouldn't ask in person, so why would I want to on my blog? Again, if YOU do it, I don't care. I'm not sending you my cash anytime soon, but I don't care. It doesn't offend me. But I'm happier with it this way - instead of sending me your cash, why don't you send me the man's cash? That works for us both, no?

In other whoring out news, anybody want some more Gmail? I swear, these invites are coming out my ears. You don't have to do anything special. Just ask, and ye shall receive. (oh, wait - since it's whore day - maybe if you have a blog you oughta link me to get one. That'll do.)

2004-09-06T13:25:00.000-04:00

Prison Bitch Name Generator

I found this pretty damn amusing. Maybe that's just me. The Tush Taster had it on his site. Check it out.

Love,

Back Room Baller

Really Shameless Hit Whoring

2004-09-06T12:18:00.000-04:00

(hell, it worked for Jen!)

Jennifer Hawkins thong Jennifer Hawkins thong Jennifer Hawkins thong yow!

Go Flop Yourself

2004-09-06T11:48:00.000-04:00

"He was for the war, then he was against the war. Then he was for it, but he wouldn't fund it. Then he'd fund it, but he wasn't for it." - George Pataki

"With 64 days left, he still has time to change his position at least three or four more times." - Rudolph Giuliani

"Flip flopper..." - Zell Miller, Dick Cheney, Mitt Romney

"...He said he was proud of that vote. Then, when pressed, he said it was a complicated matter. There is nothing complicated about supporting our troops in combat." - George W. Bush

"If telling that joke could create a job, they'd only have to tell it 1.6 million more times before George Bush creates his first one."

- Phil Singer, Kerry campaign spokesman

From the New York Times Week in Review, Sunday, 9/4, "We Repeat Ourselves" by Jodi Wilgoren

Dark

2004-09-05T13:31:00.000-04:00

So much darkness out there.

This is old news. If you don't know or haven't heard about it, you really need to pick up a newspaper.

Last week a group of Chechen separatist (Chechens, Arabs, Africans - every flavor of Islamic fundamentalism) rebels in Beslan, Russia held an entire primary school hostage on its first day in session after the summer break.

Dozens of children were forced to stand in the windows as human shields.

Children and adults were penned in the middle of classrooms that had become literal minefields.

The hostages had no food or water for three days and resorted to drinking their own urine.

Children - some as young as four and five - who cried or whimpered with hunger were threatened with automatic rifles.

Many of the same children eventually got their little heads blown to smithereens because Putin and the Russian government were not appropriately prepared for the crisis and didn't have adequate special ops personnel, helicopters, or contingency plans. Only a handful of emergency vehicles arrived on scene once the crisis broke. Children and teachers that managed to survive were driven to the hospital in private cars. Over 300 dead, including 30 terrorists of varying nationalities. On strechers, covered in sheets, on the lawn of the school. Estimates of 700 wounded. This ended Friday. New numbers are still coming in.

I haven't mentioned it yet because it's too close to home.

The photographs of the parents circling the school, wailing, keep killing me a little more every time I see them.

I have an eight year old son who's first day of third grade is Monday, September 13. He is adorable and brilliant and sometimes tiresome but above all, innocent.

I don't give a shit how noble you think your cause is, or if you think god is personally motivating you to these extreme measures. Targeting children proves only one point - that you're a monster and that you deserve nothing but a slow, torturous death. (But do I think the state should mete out that kind of justice? Not on your life.)

Hard retaliation isn't working - Putin learned that the hard way. Invading loosely geographically affiliated nations isn't working - ask the troops and civilians being targeted daily by motley, disorganized factions of suicide bombers in Iraq. Call me cynical, but I have a hunch that shuffling all of our bureaucracy so that we can have a new "Terror Czar" and bigger, better intelligence agencies doesn't sound like much of a solution either. Aren't we being targeted NOW? Then why does it matter if the system works better decades down the road? If we want to BE here for decades, we'd better figure it out a little quicker.

I'm a big believer in finding so-called "root causes". I don't mean appeasement. Bin Laden declared publicly on several occasions before 9/11 that his issue with the U.S. was our presence in Saudi Arabia and the Middle East in general. Our interventionist policies in Iraq have, in my opinion, exacerbated the terrorist threat. Why are we there? "To fight our enemies and bring democracy." Why do we have enemies there? Because we're there. It's this political catch-22 clusterfuck and it seems like the candidates aren't offering any new solutions.

It's debatable whether or not the Iraqi people are better off; in some ways, absolutely. In others, they are perhaps less secure than they were under Saddam's terror regime. I don't think it's debatable whether or not WE are better off. We've never been so hated. And it ain't because of our freedom. Do you really believe anyone hates us because we're free?

We haven't found Bin Laden (though, if we did, there would be another and another...). We've stirred up the mother of all hornet's nests in Iraq - and to what end? We've alienated any other nation that might want to help us. We continue to hear the ol' "chatter" about proposed attacks to affect our election.

(And again - how do they want to affect it? For Bush? Do they like him better? I had this conversation a few months back. My view then was that surely the people would take it as a massive failure on Bush's part and vote in Kerry. My friends set me straight - "Fuck dem peacenik dems! Let's blow Al Quaeda to the stone age! USA!". And they're quite right.)

All I want right now is a leader that can keep us sane and safe.

I know it's highly unlikely that the Beslan school scenario would play out here, but I especially want a leader to keep my child safe (subway suicide bombers? Indian Point? Anthrax? Haven't we caught the anthrax guy yet, either?)

I know that we enjoy some of the most elite defenses available to the free world. I also know that our system is vast and cumbersome and has great trouble responding to a small, coordinated, flexible attack. If Afghanistan had sent a Taliban army to attack us? No problem. Nineteen guys with boarding passes? Not so much. Have you been to an airport lately? It's more of a pain in the ass, sure. Safer, I couldn't say.

We need a broader vision. We need imagination. We need to ditch the neo-cons and their "No attack can happen without state backing" (last I heard, Osama had more wealth than a lot of states) bullshit.

Even if Kerry can't fix all of these problems, he'll at least try to avoid making them worse. Go Kerry Go.

Luc, ya Stinkin Frog... (I'm Part French, So it's Still P.C. for Me to Say That)

2004-09-05T01:51:00.000-04:00

I just finished watching The Professional on Bravo and remembered why it's one of my favorite movies.

Young Natalie Portman? Dear God.

Gary Oldman? Yeah, any time you get tired of Isabella Rosellini (or, are you tired of her already? Hmmm?) just give me a call.

And that next to last scene, when Jean Reno takes one in the back from Gary? For Natalie? And shoots him in the face and says "This... is for... Matilda..." Awww, man. It almost makes the weird unacknowledged pedophilia aspect worthwhile. Sweet, even. But hey, that's Luc Besson.

Gmail, she-male (oooh!)

2004-09-05T01:49:00.000-04:00

So, I got's me a bunch o' gmail invites (STILL - oh, wait, AGAIN). Anyone out there want me to pay you to take one? (That was a joke. What, you think I'm made of money? Sheesh.)

Fun Fun Fun

2004-09-05T01:36:00.000-04:00

Tony Pierce just posted via the Daily Kos:

Gossip maven (isn't that a great word? Almost as good as "doyenne") Kitty Kelley is about to release a fabtacular tell-all, unauthorized, thoroughly unsubstantiated biography of the Bushies that includes homosexual sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Well, not so many drugs. But some murder. And not so much rock and roll, but illegal business deals.

Let the rumour mill roll!