There are times I can't tell if it's day or night

Plane ticket-booked
Hotel-booked
Show ticket-booked
Ability to back out of this now-not applicable

I'm goin to Chicago-up until about 20 minutes ago I thought I might crap out
The Southside of Chicago...I have an urge to sing Paper Lace greatest hit. Tho I just realized that Daddy was a cop on the East side of Chicago. Not the Southside...there's a Black 47 song about the South Side of Chicago but I don't have the lyrics handy. I might find them before I finish the post...ahhh, found it and amended the title accordingly.
Here I am a miserably broke and rotten girl and spending a wad of cash to go to a show. Honestly-I should've been stopped. But I wasn't-so what the fuck, you know, what the fuck. It's another few dollars on a credit card and a little bit more debt to contend. Another debt and bill to pay-at this point it doesn't matter. What matter is not sleeping life away. Being mad once in awhile, holding on to the fire I have even in the face of the rain of reality that's what keeps me sane. OK-sane-ish. I make no promises as to the level of my sanity. I'm probably quite mad.
I've decided to return the offending party to my Dead to Me list. She's also Dead to Both of My Parents. I would love to drop out of this program. I just don't care anymore-I want to just let someone else win. But I also REALLY LIKE the subject matter and actually care about the field...so as much as I want to, I can't give up. I hate how my rational mind (or as I like to call him, Daddy) fixes these things so they're unavoidable. Mummy didn't make me think I should drop out-she got very angry and wanted me to fight-and I wanted so much to believe that I should stand up for myself about how lousy I have sometimes been treated by this program. When it's good it's very good and when it's bad it's horrid. But Da-well, he isn't angry or beaten he just wants me to finish the program because logically (I think he might be Vulcan) I owe it to myself to finish this task. Besides, we have a graduation party to have-whether it's in May or August there WILL be a graduation party. Even if it doesn't mean shite to me right now...it will eventually. With God on my side.
Otherwise:
WHen I was talking to Daddy today I said "I swear on the head of my dog...oh that's blasphemous." I laughed.
Cope and I went to the Dog Park today where he met a German Shepherd/Wolf and Cope was all like "I am SO bigger than you MR. Wolf Dog, bring it!" and Wolf Dog was like, "OH, hello tapas." Then there was this Chinese crested Yorkshire thing and he kept trying to have his way with my dog and it was horrifying at least Coupland fought back and didn't go ghey on me. Or, like, gheyer. Little dude had much fun at the Dog Park-he ran and ran and was psycho like little dogs do. People kept saying things like "That's my dog-his name is KoKo or Fluffyface or Poochie or Mr. DoggieFaceHead, what's your dog's name" and I would say "Coupland" and they'd be like, "OH-Coupland...ok...kewl..." It was really the highlight of my day....otherwise the day was a little too weird for me.

Hey Schoolgirl in the Second Row

Now some of you may remember that in a recent post I made a certain person Dead to Me. Well, I'm afraid that I made a slight miscalculation. It would seem that the error was slightly more my own than previously thought. It would seem that I actually have very little likelihood of graduating in May (Short of one of those milagros the kids are into) because I was wrong about the number of credits needed to graduate. Um, right. That shoulda probably been something I would've noticed at some point before 2 MONTHS PRIOR TO GRADU-FUCKIN-ATION! Right-so that's a bit of a problem. I need three credits to finish my degree. The "path of least resistance" is to get an internship. This is fine-but I have to get a JOB. As if it isn't frightening enough that I have to acquire gainful employment I have to also come up with some kind of way to get an internship as well-so I can graduate. I'd give up, but I'm just such a difficult girl I can't let it lie. So now I have look for not 1-but 2 jobs. This makes me terribly annoyed. As I am fairly sure my resume blows and the likelihood of getting a paying gig that will work with an internship seems like a long shot. Awesome. That's just, like, wow. I'm struck dumb at how much this blows. But I am removing the offending party from Dead to Me (I realize that should be impossible-but it's my list dammit) to On Notice because she didn't need to tell everyone else in the program my business.
Good things about today-according to one report I looked nice-nay, very nice. That was very pleasant to hear. A lady likes to hear her efforts aren't going unnoticed. Also good about today is that everyone agrees that Coupland looks smashing in his neckerchief, tres dapper.

It's a dog of a way to get around...

Alright-so I thought to myself, "Self, would there be a way to travel to Chicago that might not involve me driving my truck all those miles"--a little over 800 by my quick mapquest search. And I see that I can take Greyhound for $151 roundtrip. It isn't dirt cheap and it probably is dirty but I am thinking it might be better. It will come out that I will spend about the same on travel as I would on travel and hotel for one night and I was planning two nights hotel and I could do my reading and stuff for school so I wouldn't be way behind in that respect. So here is my thought-IF I can get Small Silly Dog watched (which as of Friday I can---does the offer still stand? I'll email you) for Fri and Sat night (we could meet somewhere around I-24 that is reasonable in distance--obviously giving preference to Dog Watchers) and I could take the bus to Chicago then catch the MTA or the El or whatever they call it there to the show (saving on parking probably).
It makes a lot of sense right now-but I dunno the not having a car would be a problem...but then again...the not having a car would mean not having to worry about driving after having put back a few...
A two day Chicago Transit Authority pass would cost $9 and then another $6 for the train (maybe $3 with student discount) I wouldn't have to drive at all. I would just take a series of buses and trains. The only drawback being that I would be sort of in limbo from the time I left the club until the time when I was able to catch the next bus. A stretch of time of about 3 hours. Not hard to kill in daylight inside but kind of a bitch at night in Chicago.
So---that would be the rub right there. That would be sort of a problem.
Hmph.
Probably should just drive. Tho....if there's something around there that's 24 hours then I could be alright. Depending on the hood.
Hard to make plans like that without knowledge of the area at all.

Edit: There's a station less than 7 miles from the club, much less of a pain to get to and from but there is still the issue that the buses don't run between 12am and 5am. That's really the only drawback.

I want to lie shipwrecked and comatose

Right so I watched the Eddie Izzard DVD I ordered whilst intoxicated the other evening. I'm saving the CD for when I drive to school on Monday or something. And I was feeling very British after that-like ya do-so I decided to watch one of my old VHS videotapes Now children, you may not remember VHS video tapes but once upon a time they were the most fantastic things, you could record right off the telly and watch the program at yr leisure. No, not like a Tivo because it would be there forever and you had to fast forward thru the commercials at what is comparatively a snail's pace. But you could always have the video- until you taped over it accidentally and you wouldn't even realize it was the video of your child's first birthday until you went to watch an episode of LA Law and the end scene was several small children with cake smeared on their faces. Also they were much better at collected dust than Tivos. A great failure of modern technology if you ask me. The loss of the video recorder is really killing apart of 20th century society that was quite fun--the mystery tape. My parents' basement is a veritable treasure trove of the forgotten television event. Ever wonder what the first Clinton inauguration was like? I have it on 2 LP cassettes-you can watch all of the proceedings from Clinton's swearing in to REM and Natalie Merchant. Ever wonder what sort of television programs I enjoyed watching in 1992? Find out with the exciting 4th box in our collection! Currently I am fast forwarding thru an episode of Nova about snowsports of some sort on a tape that was meticulously labelled with the name and episode number of all of Red Dwarf Series 6. I'm already finished FF thru an episode of Are You Being Served? something I must've taped during a bender because I've never in a sober state enjoyed an episode of that stupid show. Although I did once go as Mr. Humphries for Halloween. Just to be esoteric.
Tomorrow I'm going to pop in the Kids in the Hall tapes. Who knows what glorious wonders might be found on the feet upon feet of fragile tape recorded lo these many years ago off of Comedy Central. Why-there might even be an episode of the Daily Show from back when Kilbourn was the host...or some other fantastic bit of comedic gold that otherwise would have been lost forever.
Now-I simply must further dedicate myself to watching what is supposed to be classic British SciFi Comedy vids.

Giant snake, birthday cake

I'm trying to study for a midterm.
But there's a Fairly OddParents movie on Nick and I just discovered that every episode of the IT Crowd is available on youtube. I'm very much in the mood to not study. Also to eat hot wings and lay on the couch with the hot sauce dripping down my chin without concern for stains on my shirt.
If I were to have channelled half the amount of energy into studying that I put into online putzing I swear I would've graduated in 6 months with honors.
That is not an exageration.

UPDATE: Screw studying. I have sitting on the couch and being non-productive to do.

don't you think that I know that walking on water don't make me a miracle man?

Sometime this evening I must've angered Coupland. He's asleep on the other couch and despite my pleas he has decided to ignore me. Ridiculous looking fairy princess that he is he's all curled up on the dog couch. It probably even still smells like Baxter. It is a very dog friendly space that couch. When I first moved down here and had no furniture Mum and I found the couch at the Music City Thrift for I think $15. We then bought a set of sheets from Target and spent MANY hours sewing and stapling the sheets to cover the tobacco stained cushions. I don't need the couch-at all-but I think of all the time that took to make it and how Bax would sleep on it and how Cope does the same now and need it or not I keep it around. It makes me happy. In a sad way.
I've got the TV on-like I always do because the other option in silence and silence depresses me. All in the Family is on and some hippie dude is playing Jesus Christ Superstar while Archie is furious and talking about how Jesus wants you on yr knees not gyrating and shaking. It is no secret that I am unashamed in my love of Jesus Christ Superstar. It is an awesome production. I saw it with Ted Neeley as Jesus back in the mid-90's. By that time he was so way older than Jesus by then.
So-I'm tired or I would relate some stories. I was told again today that I should write more. Probably that was meant to mean more than people could read and enjoy on a wide scale as opposed to the small society of people that have access to this blog. Tho-of course, that society of people with access to this blog isreally the world. It's just that few people seem to be stumbling upon my fantastic musings of awesomehood. I would be a great professoinal writer. If only I could figure out something I had to say that was worthwhile. Also-I mostly only relate to computer screens anyway so it wouldn't be such a bad thing if all my interactions with humans was thru computer screens. It's less scary than actually talking to people. People are scary.

Now it's time for Monkey News! And Special Agent birthdays!

Lookie-a new template and blog title.
Exciting.
I'll probably change it in a couple of weeks or days. When I grow tired of it. But I needed a different look or vibe. Also, I am deliberately trying to get google hits---I should edit that last post so that my vitriol is less directed toward someone particular since my disguise was not good enough.
Here-I offer some humor. I may have had a shitty day (see previous post) but I feel it is my job to bring the funny to you-the reader, everyday.
Alright-humor:
I'm in class. Several people are in class-what with how it's class.
Prof: Blah, blah, blah midterm complete sentences blah, blah, intelligent people
Me: What about the exam written only in txt message speak?
Prof:What?
Me: You know, like "R U BZ? OMG I M BRD"
Prof: I haven't got that yet And you had to go and say something or I might've let it slide if you'd done it.

Me: Oh-my balls aren't nearly that big.
(nervous pause then laughter)
Prof: Ummm.
Me: Are you surprised?
Prof: A bit non-plussed.
Me: Oh. Haven't you met me?
Guy Next to Me: And if that offends you-don't watch the Aristocrats
Girl 2 people down: Wouldn't that be ovaries?
My opinion is that I have balls--people that know me have known for years that I have balls.

I'm trying to teach Coupland to dance or do his own version of a TV news. I think he's a total CNN personality type--he looks jaunty in his neckerchief (since neck sweat is the gravitas killer) Many people say I am evil for making him wear a sweater. But I think dogs in sweaters are beautiful things. We should get a St. Paddy's day outfit for him too so he is even more cute.

Did I have something else funny happen to me today?
Yeah, probably. But I'm drawing a blank...Let's see
woke up watched Golden Girls-Daily Show-Colbert-Golden Girls. Realized the Eddie Izzard video from the library was 2 days overdue. Went to the library-put in 2 apps for work there. Paid fines. Realized my drunken ordering of Eddie Izzard CDs and DVDs from Amazon could no longer be cancelled-decided there were worse fates than spending money I don't have on British Transvestites. Watched OLTL. During General Hospital released my inner transvestite by putting on eyeliner-decided I can't be TV cuz I'm a girl wearing makeup which is expected. Drove to school-listened to Ricky Gervais podcasts. Very funny stuff. Went to class. Came home. Drank wine. Watched Daily Show-Colbert-Golden Girls.
No...I can't think of anything I might've missed. OH-Little Dude got all bitchy repeatedly today. It was funny-because he thinks he's big but really the antithesis of big. When we went for a walk today he was being difficult and wanting to bother people and enforce his cuteness upon them so I picked him up and was carrying him down the street. Horrifying for all involved you would think. He reacted by going limp and laying his head against my chest. Freak.

FURTHERMORE: as a nerd I need to say this: today is Dana Scully's birthday. I regularly celebrate 10-13 and 11-21 but somehow managed to almost miss this. So-Happy Birthday Dana. Sure, you don't exist really-but I've been harboring a powerful girl crush (on Gillian Anderson too--I don't discriminate) for a way long time. So-on to a second bottle of red wine! Huzzah!

Graduate Studies is On Notice--In fact--to be fair--I'm On Notice

And if I don't get decent news from them they will join the person who saw fit to tell everyone else in the department that I wouldn't be graduating in Springas Dead to Me. I should've made this person Dead to Me a longtime ago. But I gave the benefit of the doubt and kept On Notice status. Well, too late now, that I heard about my impending non-graduation from a third hand source and then heard from a second hand source a surprised expression when I stated I planned to graduate in 2 months says that I'm already Dead to Her. She couldn't ask ME? She couldn't figure out how to get ahold of ME? No. That would indicate acknowledgement of my existence. Well, you know-I've been out of it the last few months...most of the year...2 months I guess...that would be the year...so it was a bad time to be out of it. Is tere a good time? I know-sorry my life got fucked up and I tried to be positive and stay with my eyes on the prize but I've had a very difficult time dealing lately and it's been nearly impossible for me to complete tasks. I'm depressed--some days more than others some not at all and some I can't function hardly at all. My bad-of course I would fuck up my life. I have successfully fucked up my life repeatedly and survived so other than the family shame of explaining why it isn't worth my parents making a trip here in May to see commencement it could be worse. And-I could still work something out with the University maybe--I've emailed them and my fingers are crossed. I'm not expecting much. Goddammit I will be glad when this stupid graduate degree is over. I'll be thrilled to have it-and I am glad I've done it--but I will be SO MUCH MORE GLADDER to not have to fuck with this stupid ass beaurocratic bullshit anymore. Because-to be honest-I don't like the way I feel like I'm treated by a small amount of the program.
I'm an anger ball today. I don't really mean it anyway but anger at myself and pissedoffedness at how stupid I was to believe what I was told by T about the job I've just lost. I forgot the first rule of the conspiracy minded and put upon:
Trust no one
There I went trusting. What an idiot. I could've had an awful job that I could stand but hated that would've been secure. But no-I took a job that paid better and offered flexible hours and made me not hate life for a little while. What a dumb move. If it doesn't make me miserable I obviously have no right doing it.
Gotta deal in the good old fashioned way--I'm looking very forward to going to Chicago suburbs next week to see B47. If that somehow ends up fucked then I think I will stab my eyes out with spoons just to make the constant nagging discomfort (not unbearable agony or even pain per se--but nagging discomfort and annoyance) of my existence have a definate source.
Some things I just don't need to hear. Ignorance, laziness and lack of any mojo is so much easier to deal with on a constant basis is so muh easier to go thru ones days with than knowledge, concern and lack of mojo.
The dog is very cute tho--and he is good to hug. Like a teddy bear that poos he is.

I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints

G passed away yesterday afternoon.
He lived next door to my parents my whole life-or my whole remembered life anyway. He had the same basic decorative scheme as long as he lived there...kept E's room for her long after she moved out-she moved back in when he got sick...right back into her room. He had one of the most extreme collections of rock music I've ever seen-stacks and stacks and stacks of vinyl until CDs came along and there's stacks and stacks and stacks of CDs. He loved music and could name the drummer bass player and writer and any other minute detail that might at some point come up in conversation. He loved pizza and beer and brats. He smoked Winston cigarettes and collected NASCAR memorabilia. He wasn't an exciting person-but he was dependable. He'd do whatever he could for people he cared about. He was family-not blood family--but family nonetheless.
The last time I saw him before I moved to Nashville we ate pizza and drank beer and watched NASCAR with the volume down while listening to Trans-Siberian Orchestra. It was July. That was Gary in a nutshell.
The last time I saw him he was out in his driveway raking the gravel. I scared the hell out of him by saying "Hello" before he saw me. These are better memories than one could regularly hope for. Sort of like before Grandma died and she remembered the lyrics to "Let me Call You Sweetheart" and seemed to actually know who I was for the first time in awhile. Sort of-not really-cuz G was in his mid-50's and Grandma in her 80's but I am looking for comfort. Dying in the midst of middle age is so unreasonable. I have friends that are nearly that old-barely more than a decade difference in age. Not fair. I suppose that fair don't mean much-when he recovered from cancer once but kept smoking--we make our fates I guess. But, there are things we aren't strong enough to overcome--that is I suppose why they're called DEADLY sins.
So-there's no calling hours and there will be only the smallest of service-probably just to appease the older generation that will have to bury her child-not for the deceased or the living. I could go home and would in a minute if it would matter...I won't tho. G knows I'm thinking about him--if I went home it wouldn't do any good...won't bring him back.
Such.Is.Life.
I should have that embroidered on a pillow or tattooed on my wrist.
BTW-the tattoo I want:
an oroborus with my ring as the decoration on the snake's body and a bright red eye
I've wanted it since I was 20 when I saw Scully get one on the X-Files (minus the ring decoration)
It seems to me that if I've wanted something for close to a decade it's not such a bad idea to go 'head and get it.
AT MY FUNERAL:
I want Could we Start Again Please from Jesus Christ Superstar played instead of a traditional service.
I want Matthew 17:15 and John 3:16 read instead of Psalm 23---my family will then promptly need buried since they will die that I want any Bible verse at all
Course-they might not completely die since I chose an Andrew Lloyd Webber song to be played...that has to negate whatever I believe right there.
Cremate me. I'm gone-there's no good reason to put me in the ground. I ain't comin' back-much as I might want to. Plant a lilac bush or some rhubarb...something that will carry over from year to year and remind people I existed.
After the service-and it better not be more than 22 minutes long...I want it to be like a rerun of a sit-com...I want everyone to get plastered on Jameson's and Smithwicks and overdose on cheese enchiladas and wings until every remaining person is laying on the ground longing for a cigarette listening to a metacyberstream Todd Snider, Billy Joel, Black 47, BR549, etc etc and on and on and whatever else might come along in the future (and there damn well better be a LOT of stuff to come along in the MANY decades I plan to live).
The first person I catch crying and being despondant gets haunted by me.
Seriously.
Peace-GH.
Peace.

bake me a country ham...

for class on Thurs--wait, digression:
Cartman: I know! Drugs are bad, cuz if you do drugs you're a hippie and hippies suck!
Ha ha! I'm back.
Right-so, totally classic South Park but that's not the point...
For class on Thursday the assignment is to draw a belief scape. Two problems with this:
1) I can't draw for shite
2) What the fuck is a belief scape?
I had this assignment last year and I just refrained from doing it claiming no artistic talent. But-I can't hide forever. So I started drawing...A couch and a little faggy dog (he likes it when I call him that, really he does) and Baxter's ghost behind the couch. My computer and TV playing Colbert and Good Times (I'm using time lapse drawing techniques). Lots of books and music. Ohio in one corner with horrid renderings of weddings and funerals and home=Dad and Mum. A collection of East Nashville sights and a hazy inarticulated drawing of downtown. Kroger is the big meeting place in East Nashville-close as I can tell. Kroger and, of course, the liquor store. A flag of California in another corner-for Mik. A note that if there's free space-imagine books or CDs there.
IT is a truly horrid drawing. It's going to take a lot of nerve to show it to other people-because it's embarassing...I SO can't draw.
I'll try to scan and post it here so the horror of my artistic skills can be shared by the reader of this blog.

Drunk, Hungry and Icy

(fic-y, but basically true-think James Frey with less Oprah scorn)

I sat on the couch the TV was playing Malcolm in the Middle but I wasn't watching it. Most of my energies were directed toward reading Daily Show fiction and trying to find a Chinese place that delivered.
Dial a random number "Do you deliver?"
"WHere do you live?" in broken English.
I tell them. "That is minimum $25 order there."
"Never mind."
"Do you deliver?"
"Where do you live?"
I tell them.
"I am new to the country-I don't know that."
By my map it's at the end of the street. I try to explain this. We have a communication problem. I give up.
I am drunk. I have been drinking since 3 and it is now a quarter to 7. Half a bottle-three quarters maybe, I wasn't paying that much attention, of wine, and two beers and no Chinese food. I have no thought other than a need for Chinese. When I convince the ghey little dog that it's in his best interest to stay inside I walk out of the door and see the truck is covered with a thin but vision impairing sheet of ice. I come dangerously close to falling on my ass on the ten step walk to my car and set off down the road without bothering to de-ice the windows or warm the car. Honestly, I'm not that drunk. I shouldn't be driving simply because of the conditions and my dark mood but I don't think I would fail a sobriety test. Famous last words. It's hard to say. At that point, I am hungry and cranky more than anything else. $25? What the fuck?
It occurs to me. I'm typing quite well for an intoxicated person. Tho my spelling is probably a little lacking-I am doing better than a lot of sober people I suspect.
I get to the end of the street and realize I have no idea which way to turn. I go left-no take away there...at least not that's open. I go right. I am bored with this and decide to fuck it and go to the Beast that ate the US and buy lousy micro-nese. This is food that, doused with enough soy sauce is discernable from Country Fried Steak. That and the color-it's much oranger. Oddly enough the "sweet and sour chicken" wich could just as well be orange sherbet is satisfying my craving. I couldn've saved a lot of time and energy by just drinking a bottle of soy sauce.
Earlier today, when I had aspirations of creativity, I was at Kroger when I ran into a couple of acquaintances. This always throws me off, my silent revelry shattered by recognition I become nervous and wonder if it is necessary to speak every time we pass in the store aisles. IT's a small grocery store. This is unavoidable-see someone a the start of shopping chances are you'll be shopping in tandem the rest of the trip. This nerve racking scenario has been known to have me contemplating running out of the store to do my shopping down the street rather than deal with this problem. I am socially inept.
Mum and I were shopping in Hillsboro Village the other day. Shop keepers spoke to us and pushed their wares as we browsed the racks. Mum took it in stride, talked and bought what she wanted if she wanted things, didn't if she didn't want somehting. She casually and effortlessly carrying on conversations. The whole trip I wanted to fade into the concrete worried that one of the clerks would direct a comment at me. Whenever someone spoke to us my immediate reaction was to walk quickly but politely toward the door and exit before we made some sort of eye contact that I feared indicated a promise of commerce. I am poor and embarassed.
I stood in line at WallyWorld with my egg rolls and sweet and sour chicken. The woman behind me tried to cut around me with her cart. "Are you in line?" I was standing between two check outs-what else might I be doing there? I nodded. "Then," she motioned forward.
"I thought it was polite to not push forward. Like reasonable space in line at an ATM." The hurried woman did not agree. I scanned and finished and left.
On my way home I listened to This American Life and reminded myself that I should make a point to listen to that more often.
Home, I checked my phone for messages. Sis had called at 1 in the afternoon and I wondered how I'd missed that-must've called during the one song that had managed to creep in between the pledge begging on WKYU when I was out driving around. Called her back and several phone calls were tossed back and forth as we tried to figure out how to send a file. I am not as technical as I fancy myself to be.
At WalMart there was a Xerox'd hand written sign:
MISSING
Piglet
Jack Russel mix
Black and White
Please Call
This is not my dog. Tho they share certain characteristics he doesn't answer to the name. Also-why would there be a sign on the East Side for a dog found wandering around on the far West Side of town. There are hundreds of such dogs-besides, the dog in the picture had a black nose and Coupland has a white snout. Coupland will be staying with me. He is my faggy little dog-whether either of us are particularly comfortable with the idea or not. When I walk him, I feel the need to wear a disguise for fear that someone recognizes me as having gone from a DOG to a dog. I'm also ashamed it took me so little time to get another dog-that doesn't seem right. Necessary for me, but not appropriate. He's a good boy tho-why just today we went for a ride and he spent the trip looking out the window being very small and then when we got home he took a long nap. When he woke up he whined and I fed him and now he is napping again-in between waking up and whining. He's tons of fun. Mum thinks he got lost because he's stupid. While I would not trust him with government secrets I get
the distinct impression he isn't as dumb as his inability to find his Baby would seem.
I need another egg roll. I should read more fanfic it distracts me from my internal dialogue. Which is far too derivative and NPR.

look at all the lonely people...

Today I am feeling very small and empty. Powerless and disconnected. My concentration is down. I've faked my way through the minimum school work I need to be able to get through the next few days but despite all of this spare time that I have since being made redundant (although still employed, odd as that is) I have none of the dedication to education I always assumed I would have if work were not an issue and I was financially secure enough to get through the next immediate period of time. Instead I find myself a blank and emotionless blob re-watching movies on Encore Love for most of the last 24 hours. Most of these films are, at best, ok. Playing By Heart is only watchable because of my fondness for Gillian Anderson and Jon Stewart. I can say for sure I haven't seen the film close to half a dozen times because it's good. It just has one pretty couple out of four. The Notebook is drek-the acting is good, the story is sad, but it is utterly bad for some reason that I am unable to pinpoint. The Fisher King is depressing as hell--it's probably the only GOOD movie I've watched on TV. The Aristocrats I watched that last night on my PC-it's funny. Sick as hell and I wouldn't recommend it to anyone because I wouldn't want to have that responsibility on my shoulders-but I do think it's about as amused by filth as I've been recently. Great cast too, one of the best in memory. In memory I can't remember another day I watched four movies (French Kiss-that predictable but at least kinda cute in a non-thoughtful way movie-was the fourth) in a day.
Everything seems so childish and silly. Everything seems devoid of meaning. I am very tired of death and disease and loss. I look at people and things and think about how tenuous this grasp on this world we have and how it unravels. I do not feel poetic. I am sad but hollow. Perhaps I could cry, but what could would my sadness be? It's better the departure than the continued existence. The pain must be unbearable-the waiting...I can't imagine. It seems like dying is always right the next space over. Like just when I've gotten over one loss or adjusted to some other change there is this new emotional upheaval demanding to be reckoned with.
Me. Me. Me. Me. I am selfish. I only think of me. Me. Me. Me. I am human. We all think in terms of ourselves. I remind myelf of that.It is not abnormally selfish. It isn't just me. Me. Me.
At this point I would like to say what I'm talking about. But I am suspicious and can't write it or type it for fear that it will happen because it has been set in stone. I give myself too much power. Speak the words-perhaps, but write it down, no Things happen that way-something comes over me and I know even though I in no way know. In the past it's an odd stray thought and not written words-but it seems a better choice to not tempt fate. I do believe that is not the right thing to say at this point. While things will not get better, things could continue for some time. Some long and painful dark deteriorating time.

Matthew 27:46--now with blasphemy!

Mum got here last night around 7. I greeted her with Coupland in hand, as got her bag out of the minivan.
"Oh! He is so adorable, he's just about perfect, much cuter than his picture. Aren't you Aren't you cuter than your picture?" Before the day was over she would decide that he simply doesn't photograph well. Or maybe it's his Mum that doesn't look too hot in pictures. How does a dog not photograph well? He's a dog-I've never known a dog to worry about extra chins or ten pounds. Me, well, I've seen enough pictures of me to know that I look much better in person. Or at least I hope I do-cuz in pictures I look like shit. In pictures, it's clear why I am never asked on dates. In person, I think my personality clears that issue up.
But anyway. Mum got here and we had dinner and drank some champagne. We toasted Coupland-he wanted a drink-but we said NO! Dogs that weigh less than a decent sized pork tenderloin should not drink alcohol. At one point she become amused with one of Cope's toys. She made me promise not to write about it-this is too bad, because it was hilarious and involved a toy that talks. I don't understand her hestitance to allow me to write about her quirks. The way I see it she isn't using all of her stories or personality traits and it is a major waste of a personality to not include these stories in my writings. All the time I get encouragement to write and write and write, then I start and I get limitations. She doesn't want to sound like a flake or a weirdo. But she is neither of these-she's my mother, a very unusual, lovely, intelligent person deserving of a narrative. I don't think Daddy has realized how writable he is, or maybe he wants to hear one of his stories on NPR one day when he's out driving around. Talk about a "driveway moment" That would take the damn cake wouldn't it? Hearing about yourself as described by your child on All Things Considered.
ANYWAY-Cope took to Ma like bread to butter. He just decided her lap was THE little dude hang out and everytime I looked for him he was in one way or another situated on her lap, or shoulder, or in some way near him. He's so ridiculously cuddly. Baxter was the King, a wonderful and handsome creature full of pride. He was amazing as dogs go, a creature to be reckoned with, everyone that met him was taken with his Baxter-ness. I miss him, even with Coupland here, I miss Baxter so much. I wish there was a way to have Bax back and , even for only a short time. He was my love. To not have him here seems inappropriate. He was always here. That he didn't get to meet Cope bothers me, I can only ASSUME that Bax approves of this little dog, I can't know. I know this much is true--they came to me with suspiciously similar stories. It comforts me to think that there is a correlation...
Except Coupland and Mum get along much better than Mum and Baxter. Possibly this has to do with Cope's small size--he's a highly portable dog. He is very cuddle-buggish. The dog and the mom spent the entire day on the couch curled up half or all the way asleep.
"My dog! My dog! Why have you forsaken me?" I exclaimed.
"Oh, Copie, you've made your mama sad. Look, she's gonna cry. You're gonna make your mama cry Cope, you better give her some love."
"Sigh," said the dog.
"Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?"
"Grrr-reow." Stretch."Hmph"
"Fine, fine, Mama, you just take that dog home with you. He doesn't love me. I get it. He loves you so much more."
Why even when we were watching Strangers With Candy (during the two episodes I was laughing like a damn fool and Ma didn't laugh at all but did read the dog one of the LIttle Golden Books I have sitting on the coffee table-perhaps to drown out the show she found so not funny) he did not watch the show that nearly gave him his name but spent the entire hour cuddling with his Gran.
All my love is gone.
I left for school shortly before 4. The dog seemed non-plussed. I figured he would spend my absence rejoicing. Some comfort comes from the fact that I was told that he cried "OH! WAH! OwoooOOOWWW!!" when I left and was inconsolable. He even insisted on going with Mum to Kroger and the liquor store. Rumour has it he was a good boy all that time, except for the whining.
Meanwhile, I realized when I got to school that I was an eejit and had left my wallet at home-course I had barely enough gas to get home, I probably could've made it--maybe...or not. One of my folkloristic cohorts offered to loan me $5 for gas and I'm happy to say I took him up on that. I think I could've made it home without the loan, but I gotta say it felt a lot less stressful driving home with the loaner gas than it would have been otherwise.
When I walked in Little Dude and Ma were asleep on the couch with NPT playing on the TV. My dog has forsaken me-there's no 2 ways around it. He likes my mummy best. Oh he's being all "Look how cute I am, all cuddled next to you on the couch right now." He probably is just lusting after Anderson Cooper-I have no illusions...the dog loves not me. He loves the warm and the attractive. At times that might be me--rare times when he can't get a better gig.

Dedicated to Filliam H. Muffman

Say it---go head I dare you. Say Filliam H Muffman without laughing. IF you can you are a better man than I am. Not that I'm a man-but that doesn't detract from how I have balls.
Tied for second place in the funniest thing about Thursday is this classic from Stephen and the Colberts. Not that I'm a crushing fan girl or anything. I'm too old for that shit--in what I understand is a masculine ranking of personalities I find that a better description isn't that I want to squee all over the internets about men of any sort-but there are a few that I'd like to go drinking with. That's really what makes or breaks a deal-would I want to be drunk with this person? If yes, then the criteria for cool are met in my brain (clearly, I will never go drinking with most of these people-so this is where the fandom comes in-the textual poaching if you will). Them what know me probably think-who WOULDN'T she drink with? Well, I wouldn't want to go drinking with Tony Danza. Oh, he's probably nice and all, but I wouldn't want to have a beer with him-it wouldn't be fun. Ellen Degeneres, I could totally see myself drinking with her. There isn't a chance in hell or Toledo I'd ever have a drink with Oprah, just no. I'd be on my third drink and she'd shut down the bar to tell me how disappointed she is in me for betraying her trust and worse yet, betraying mySELF by getting loaded in her presence. Why I'm ranking talk show hosts as drinking partners I do not know.
Here's more of a list-taking no time to consider whether or not these people actually partake of the demon alcohol:
Judge Judy-drink
Judge Maybelline-no drink
Ryan Seacrest-no drink
Christopher Meloni-drink
Gillian Anderson-drink
Denis Leary-drink
Bob Saget-drink
Dave Coullier-no drink
Roseanne-no drink
John Goodman-drink
Jon Stewart-drink
Stephen Colbert-drink
Amy Sedaris-drink
David Sedaris-drink
Paul Dinello-drink
Douglas Coupland-drink
Drew Carey-drink
Eric Idle-no drink
Michael Palin-drink
John Cleese-drink
Dave Foley-drink
Scott Thompson-drink
Bruce McCulloch-drink
Tony Geary-drink
99.9% of men that find me attractive-no drink
George W. Bush-no drink...or...actually, if I could get him to drink...and film it...and then show it on TV and discredit him...and laugh...such laughter....but it probably would work against me and I'd end up in the Ole Grey Bar Hotel---that's what the kids call it..the Slammer...the Joint...deep shit is where I'd end up....so I'm back to no drink with the ole Shubbery.

RIGHT-so, I'm back from that little flight of fancy. I could go on all night--even working back in time to the people that are dead and thus not much fun to throw one back with anymore. But in the time allotted I should say something amounting to approximately less than nothing.

The Mum is coming to visit for awhile tomorrow. Or, since that is a poorly worded sentence I should say: Tomorrow, Mum is coming to visit. Because the first sentence indicated that she was stopping by for tea and then would be on her way to other locations. Much of my energy for the day was put forth cleaning the place-re-ordering it somewhat so that she could comfortably walk in and not suffer an attack. She will probably have some sort of attack anyway-even at it's cleanest I have discovered that anywhere that will have me live in it is somewhat sloppy. The CDs over run everything-the ephemera, miscellany and iconography that covers most every spare inch of my apartment are forces with which to be reckoned. A weak sould would be troubled by some of the items, but I find clutter to be not stifling but invigorating.
I have to get up early in the AM to go to church. If you can call a Unitarian gathering church...it's for school. The assignment is to go to a service at a place of worship where I am not a member. If I over sleep I'm going to a Buddhist thing. That probably isn't church either I guess. I was going to go to synagogue, but there were weather advisories. Middle TN is so pussified, seriously, the whole damn region closed for the "storm of the century of the week" and we got not one solitary flake. This morning when I took dog out and I saw the complete lack of snow I laughed my balls off. Anyhoo-if I sleep thru the Unitarian services, both of them, and the Buddhist meditatioh and video (really, the largest part of the thing is a video...crazy practitioners of an ancient, peaceful religion, watching a video) I might just watch Mass from Notre Dame on cable. I was pushing to watch O'Reilly since many people see no division between religion and politics despite that nasty little seperation of church and state thing. And there are misguided souls that take everything he says as gospel-which reminds me,I'm a bit peckish and Colbert says that the BLT is the only "real" American sandwich. I should make one now...unfortunately, I'm out of bacon. I could have a lettuce and tomato but that doesn't sound American, that sounds like something the communists would eat. Vegetarian Communists, the biggest threat the liberty after Gluten Intolerant Libertarians, those people are just viscious.

I named dog-by the way-his name is Coupland. Cope, or just Co, if I'm feeling lazy. He doesn't seem to hate it, and it's better than calling him Dog. It also meets the criteria for naming namely it's:
esoteric
litery
not easy to shorten into a diminutive (this is why he isn't name Frederick)
completely inappropriate based on his size and appearance thus giving him an inflated since of dogportance

Oooh-exciting-the computer is almost done formatting. I'm going to bed when that's done.
Sadly, that leaves no time to post the fan fiction story I wrote...maybe another time.

Sourcing off the newb---some thoughts from the sister

The cause of such a reaction
OK. First of all, he is so effing cute, it's not right. NO!!!
OMG!!!!! Um, I think, of the list you submitted , my personal favorie for
this guy is
Lucky... here's why: It made me think of "Lucky Breaks/Luck Strikes/
Lucky Stars... So, it could be Lucky Strike... OR... Lucky Break... OR
Lucky
BRAKE. Now, just by looking at him (or as we would say in the theatre
"sourcing off of him") I think of these:


Squeeze Box
Babyhead
NuttyBoy
KingMystery
Jinky Knoob
Farnsworth
Butterbean
CakeMonkey
BabyLizard
FiendFace
BoyWonder
Angel--- Oh!Stop! Montgomery? (Monty-- the Angel from Montgomery?)
CocoPuff
BabySquirrel
GoatBaby
Penguin Face


That's my story.

Naming this beast just keeps getting harder.

Yesterday I was made redundant and I got a dog

--my answer to my dad's question "what have you been up to?"

The redundancy is no suprise and it came as a relief. I am looking for a job a bit more hardcore than before--I have to go to an application/training thing for one. It won't make me famous-but it will provide some observational humor. My main reason for being on the planet as close as I can tell. Then do the cover letter, resume polishing fun that I kinda hoped would wait until---oh, mid-May. Great, now I'm just a "candidate" for graduation-that's not impressive...I need a job! I want to keep my precious, precious cable television!
While still missing Baxter and not even pretending to feel otherwise I have dealt with my loneliness by letting a small and ridiculous looking creature into my house.While there is no denying he's cute-he isn't a girl (which was the plan) or fluffy (also the plan) but he is crazy and really well behaved. Except for how he turned off my David Sedaris live at Carnegie Hall CD--but I think that was an accident. And the sitting on my lap when I'm driving-that can't be going on. NO one with any sense at all would think that I am trying to "replace" Baxter. He has no name-I was calling him the mostly offensive without actually being specifically dirty (but quite fitting) Noblet-but I want to be able to say his name in mixed company so that will serve as a nickname but not as a name. Too bad, cuz it fits better than other options. I might just name him Dog-since picking a name is very hard.
He does need clothes tho-too bad he's a boy-since I found an awesome St. Paddy's day themed dress that would look FANTASTIC-so despite the awful nickname-I won't be dressing small silly dog in dresses.

There is one difference between President Bush and Jesus

It's a big one.

/that makes me laugh.

This post is not worthwhile.
Oh well.

now the world's a little older and the years have changed the river

I've been pretty unpleasant to be around lately. And I'm trying to get over it. It'll take awhile.
Here's a couple things.
I am actively trying to get a dog. Whilst B would've never been ok with me having a love but him I am quite sure that since I loved only him (as far as beasts go) while he lived he would not want me to be hiding my love away from some other needy mongrel. So-there will hopefully be another dog-this one a wee terrier of the sort sung about by Bruce McCulloch-will live in my home. Mik has said that it's ok if I name the dog . Which I think is a boy name-but can be a girl-most Jodys are female these days. I went to school with a girl named Jody-I don't remember her last name and I bet that's not how she spelled it---the only thing I remember about her is that at 14 she looked ready for menopause. I suspect she looks about 12 now. ANYWAY-Jody was one of the top picks for names--(the others, if I've listed them before I don't remember doing so and I'm sorry for the repeat so soon) were June Carter, Billy, and Townes. I thought that Mik was pretty attached to the name-she'd even said that was what she would name a dog---but she told me I oughta name my new bubby Jody.
So when we walk down by the river people can say-"Look-a yonder there goes Jody and the kid."
I'm very much hoping to have another dog soon. Not ever another Baxter-not ever a Baxter replacement, as he was special in a lot of ways and I miss him so much I still have trouble looking at his things and pretend they aren't there...his food...his dishes...his blankets and bed...it hasn't been a month yet it'll be a month on Wednesday. It seems a lot longer-and yetI still move around them like maybe if I wait long enough he'll come back. Isn't it sad (by which I mean pitiful)-but everyday-even tho it feels very much like a broken record I have to remind myself that he won't be there when I go home. It still seems like maybe he will come home----my depression and solitary existence has become pathological---I bet there are people that have lost husbands or wives that aren't has effected as I am.
Of course-I am a ridiculously strange creature. If my conversation with Mum is saying anything my tendency to not do drugs-wander around naked in mixed company and have random sexual encounters is quite unlike the habits of my g-g-g-generation ( No, I don't know why she has the insight into my g-g-g-g-generation but she probably does, since I am lame). Fuckin' hell-she called me "straight" tho she retracted that statement in consideration of the fact that I just don't do drugs- do drink and swear and smoke the occassional cigarette and I also enjoy loud music and dancing. And you know-I would do drugs-I'd do lots of drugs-if such habits didn't make me sick (a source of much embarassment, quite honestly). This strangeness is probably why I don't feel like my job is a guarantee-I think I was hired because it seemed like I was a likely habit for a pothead. I act like one-I look like one-my apartment screams "try to find my bong!" so assuming I was one wouldn't be that hard to believe. Sadly, I'm just a kind of messy, space-y, slightly dirty freak which isn't nearly as much fun to be around.
I'm waiting for the distinct honor to be bestowed upon me to be the first person to be fired for not smoking pot on the job.

don't it make you wanna smile?

"I've gotta new screen saver-it's Homer Simpson and he's floating on a background with Bart and Lisa behind him."
"My screensaver is Stephen Colbert vacuuming the American flag. "
"You're a dork."
"Ya think? So I'm suspecting you should try defragging yr C drive and cleaning yr temp files and running a spyware search.." (cut to me explaining in step by step detail from memory since I was making dinner at the time) "So, while you got that goin' ya wanna play a quick round of Dungeons and Dragons or Magic or somethin?"
"No my little nerd, I think yr doing enough magic just doing what you are."
"Alright-well, if you don't appreciate the real backbone of my skill set."
"Goodnight dear."
"Night, Ma."

Don't it make you wanna dance?

Hello, I'm a lazy ass hippie, and I am so easily distracted as to be unable to complete something as simple as a syllabus for my independent study without flaking off into thinking about...well, quite honestly, anything but writing the syllabus. Hell, I might even wash dishes or vacuum.
I wish I could find the chord to plug my record player into my speakers so I could listen to the Jerry Jeff album I bought at the Sally Army today...that would distract me from doing school work for awhile anyway. It is a 2 album set...that should be enough time to--well, by the time the album was over I'd probably have to stop "working" and watch the Daily Show. Sadly, I can't find the proper wires--since I live in a palatial home and it would require calling the help in after hours to find my misplaced electronic equiptment.
It's when I'm busy like this that I find it necessary to look up flights to places where I am not. I could TOTALLY fly to Newark, NJ for $112 round trip this weekend. That would...mean I was spending the weekend in Jersey...I hear they have trains that allow a person to leave there. Course, if I were to go to Jersey or the city I wouldn't be able to NOT make plans that would facilitate seeing awesome late night TV. To go and not take advantage of the available free tickets to live tapings would be a damn shame.
Bleh-I have no topic---I mean-I HAVE a topic, a well thought out, long researched, always becoming more clear and chock full o' insight, topic, the sort of topic people have made careers out of researching and can be carried on to infinity---but I have no organization skills. Everything gets done but I've never in my forsaken life been so organized as to know what I'm going to do in 2 weeks much less 2 months. Really, I just want to write on this syllabus: "Y'know what, I'm mostly thinkin' we should just go with the flow...see what happens...it's all good, right? K? Good-I'm goin' down to the pub for a quick pint before class, yr welcome to join me, my treat-if not-glad we had this talk.Right-I'm out-peace."
I consider myself in possession of some balls-but no one has balls that big.
Did I just agree to participate in an arbitron survey? What kind of madness has overcome me?
Alright-gotta go work on my intellectual gravitas.