Monthly Archives: November 2007

Solutions

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you know those guys who hit mid life, get all upset, buy hair plugs and a red convertible? you know the premise, middle age, waning penis, waning hair line, mounting regrets? Okay.

Robert Zemeckis. Easily one of the worst offenders of the mid life freak out or ‘crisis’ if you will. His ‘crisis’ seemed to have started earlier than most, but the premise is pretty much the same. His penis was waning, he started spending obnoxious amounts of dollars on excess and hair plugs a while ago. the thing with this sort of freak out related excessive spending of resources is that it all smacks of cheap desperation and mostly just makes everyone feel embarrassed for him.
Of course there will always be that group of people who think he’s awesome.
The final sin and some recent news has sent my brain a-spinning with solutions. Robert, the next time you have the urge to dump too much money into another red convertible consider doing something more useful.
Take that money and donate it to the women of Saudi Arabia. Buy them guns, bullets and lessons so that the next time anyone even suggests that they be punished for being the victim of a brutal attack they can blow the balls off anyone who tries.
Then they can spread around the world helping their oppressed sisters.
Once we get that taken care of, they can sell the guns and donate the cash to another group. My suggestion would be a group that could create the universe’s biggest megaphone and then take it back in time to send a message to W reminding him that even if a dude speaks English and maybe smells nice, he can still be a brutal anti-democracy dictator. On this final point I accept that we won’t succeed. I know that no matter how many people can see that Musharraf is an international dink, Bush will still call him ‘friend’. Dinks of a feather and all that I guess.
ah well, i’m off to amuse myself with yarn and hooks…..and brains

oh whoa

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At about 9:30 this morning some aliens did that thing where they completely stop time so they can steal a body, finger the anus and drop it back off with no one the wiser (not even the aliens, because, really what are you going to learn from that). The thing is, they stole me. It totally sucked.
At about 9:30am they stopped time and whisked me away to their ship. After they were done with my butt (La Luna Grande) they moved on to more insidious activities. The first order of business was to take an ice cold pick, all slender and silver, and jam it up my nose so that it would pierce both my spenoid sinus and my frontal sinus along with my eyeball. Then they removed random bits of my brain and put them in jars.
The final insult was when they took photos of my holey old underwear and posted them on craigslist.
After they set me down in my office chair I immediately felt the results of their meddlings. My butt was uncomfortable, I had a stabbing pain on the left side of my head and I could not follow or maintain conversations with anyone.
Also, I felt a little dirty in the underpantal area.
All day it was headache and slowness. The aliens did this to me.
Or, perhaps the answer could be found in the full mug of coffee that I forgot to drink this morning. Hard to say. But let this be a warning to you. If you start every day with lots of caffeine, you will die the day you miss it, and aliens don’t want to ‘learn’ from us, or ‘make contact’. They’re just galactic bullies giving us the planetary wedgie.

yeah, i’m here

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I’m here, I’m fine. I appreciate everyone who took the time to check up on me. I needed it. I mostly spent the weekend sleeping, or trying to sleep or pretending to sleep or being crabby. I’m good at crabby.
In other crabby news
1) I could not possibly care any less than I do about the writer’s strike. I just don’t care. Yes, i am an avid supporter of unions, yes, I do believe that collective bargaining is what allows us to be humans at work and not donkeys 7 days a week. Sure, their issue is probably valid, what little I’ve heard of it sounds fine. I just don’t care. At this point, I don’t think anyone in hollywood, and I mean the vague hollywood that includes every damned thing on tv and in the movie theatres, should shut up about money until they start making things that don’t suck so very hard. How many different television shows can there be about moody doctors with issues? moody detectives with issues? magical crime fighters that solve crimes with super tweezers and their issues? a wacky family with wacky kids and in laws that live near by?
And I figure it’s just a matter of time before they make a Diff’rent Strokes movie. if we’re really lucky, Will Smith will play Arnold.
2) I’m half way through my 3rd pirate hat. After this christmas I am never making another pirate hat again. Ever. It’s not that they’re hard, they’re super easy, but I don’t like making the same pattern over and over. There’s just no challenge in it.
3) chester has entered into some sort of weird jealous phase. he’s decided that he’s the only one who can be by me. if maddie comes near, he growls. If maddie hears growling she’s all, “is that growling on the heather? I better investigate and make sure she’s safe!” and if she comes to investigate then chester is all, “didn’t you hear me? this is my lady! stop trying to be the boss of me!” and maddie goes, “the growling on the heather is getting louder! OH MY GOD”
and this escalates a bit until Maddie gets too close and Chester jumps on her and they fight. Then maddie really gets freaked because now there is real danger on the heather and she must help and defend the heather from all danger! She she really goes at it and chester thinks she’s really being a total dick for not only not leaving him alone but also for making him fight so he gets nuttier.
and none of it ends until I grab them and maddie accidentally bites me and I make them both go away.
on the other hand, thing are going better and I got to meet the famous KnitGrrl last week and we talked about art and penises and yarn and sex and gossip and old people and penises and once I touched her butt just so I could say I had. We went to the O’Keeffe show at the MIA…it was okay, only go if you are a member and it’s free. Then we saw the Kahlo show at the Walker. I recommend this highly. I say pay whatever they ask. or go on thursday night when it is free and stand in the long line. whatever. just go. Actually, I might go back when it is less crowded and see it again.
more…real stuff…later.

Dear Ghengis

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Tonight will mark one year since I last held you. One year since I fed you part of my turkey sandwich and half of my baby carrots. It’s been a year and the pain does not lessen. It’s been a year and all I want is for you to come back to me.
I love telling people your stories. I love telling them how awesome and charming you were. How I could deny you nothing, how you draped across my lap as I crocheted, how happy you were. You didn’t think you were a person, you knew you were a dog and you absolutely loved being a dog. You loved the dog park, you loved belly rubs and hiking and sitting up for treats. Everyone loved you when they met you.
You were my child. Those with children might take offense at that, but it is the only way I can describe how I felt about you. I loved you unconditionally, I was so proud of everything you did. I talked about you incessantly and displayed your photos everywhere. Your absence is not just a void, but a wound dug from my chest and left gaping and unhealed.
I still forget you are not here. Sometimes I leave work and imagine you waiting for me. They only last a second or so, but every realization is like a kick in the gut.
Levi created a beautiful box in which to place your ashes, stinky dinosaurs and collars. Today, one year after you gasped and grew cold in my arms, I will place you in this box. A photo of you, one of you bounding joyously across the dog park with the sun shining on you will be in the frame on the outside of the box. It is you at your happiest and exactly how I want to remember you.
I love you my little fella, my Mofungus T. Humongous, my Crocodile Bob
My Ghengis.
h