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Bookie McBooks:
Sweet Sweet Music
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Today is the first day on paxil. Just before I picked it up, I read a bunch of stuff about how addictive it is. Great. I'm on such weeny little doses (5mg) to start, I'm not too worried. Plus, like it's any more addictive than the codeine I've been eating for two years now. Trip plans are nearly complete; we are waiting to confirm a night at this inn in Talbot County. We looked into some super-cheap sketchy little motels, but they seem overrun by drunken fishermen/truckers and are known to be both loud and extremely unpleasant. While a little sketchy is fun, being accosted on your way to the ice machine is not. There is no joy in Mudville. Being a kid certainly has it's difficulties, but being an adult sucks even more. At least today. At least dinner's good--involves leftovers from Mediterranean Express and homemade pesto. So I guess there's a small amount of something approaching joy in Mudville. Project Roadtrip is nearly complete. Plane and car taken care of; starting point, final destination, and the saturday night in between are all set. Sunday, we'll drive through Hell on our way to the swamp. Hopefully Hell still has a High's Ice Cream, although I haven't been able to verify this. Still, a town with such lovelies as "Lolethia's Bridal" and Birdsong's Peanuts must still have some sort of ice cream parlor, right? Glamourpuss admits to back fat. Recovery is fine and all, but back fat? I was a click monkey most of yesterday; weird sometimes what freelancers get paid for. This was pasting ink jet printer specs into a template. Ook Ook! Eep! When I got done monkeying, I felt like crap and Sweetie proposed soup and DVD. Nothing makes a girl feel better than watching The Fast and the Furious. "I live my life a quarter mile at a time". Vin ain't no Mr. Katt, but compared to the rest of the cast, he shines like a cursed diamond. I'd want 30 million for a sequel, too. Of course, since I'm All Girl, my roll would be Bisexual Scantily Clad Honda Ho, rather than A Bald Man with A Tortured Soul. So maybe I'd do it for just a couple million. September's Esquire is worth reading. Nice David Sedaris story about his brother Rooster's nuptials, fabulous shoes, and a long thing on last Sept. 11 from a journalist who was hauling trash at Ground Zero in the first week after it happened. Some of Our Nation's Finest are petty crooks- the mall between the towers was well looted after the buildings collapsed. A police captain suggested the looting was a sign of things returning to normal. So cops and firefighters always loot collapsed buildings? Who knew? The damn pictures made me cry, again, about the whole stupid mess, but the story is really pretty neat. Sad without having an inkling of any heroic nonsense or "American Pride" or talk of who did what when. Plan ahead: It's out on DVD in two short weeks! How did he ever learn to ride a bicycle in the first place? And what's up with his reluctance to commit to Miss Piggy? My wonderful doctor has suggested I think about two longer-term solutions to pain relief: methadone (sorry for the poorly written link; it's the most complete I could find without resorting to government listings) and a choice between three antidrepressants, which "won't make the pain go away, but it will bug you less". Assumedly with either of these options, everything will bug me less, all the time. Nothing wrong with that. But the last experience Ms. Hyper NonDepressive had on antidepressants was terrible. Anxious, 24-hour twittering, no sleep, no coping skills, itchy, couldn't eat. But when faced with "no, I'm not a junkie! No, Really!" I dunno what to do. My PDR isn't much help; nor is anything else I can find online. It's debatable which is a worse way to wake up: a 20-pound cat on my belly, or the glass recylcing truck setting off every car alarm on the block. I'm just about finished with the vet clinic; next client is the maker of the only just-for-catfish fishing line. My younger self worked a bunch of odd little jobs--pet shop, swimming lesson teacher to 4 yr. olds, telemarketer for vinyl siding (I was the closing champ, weirdly enough), teacher of medical transcription classes. I though those days were long, long, gone, but now it seems like I'm writing copy for the same odd group. Sweetie has a equally odd list: cabbie, dominoes pizza man, carnie, camp counselor. What's yours? I'm starting a piece on Jewish Soul Food. If you've got a hankering for a knish, call me and we'll go eat. And this bad ass judge thing is from a few days ago, but it's still bad ass. Hurrah for manatees! Although perhaps no hurrahs for these or these. Nice explanation of my problem: an incompetent disk. I'm trying not to be concerned, but more and more consistently, it hurts when I swim. And that is Bad News. I haven't had a myleogram, and hopefully I don't have to. No more painful tests, please. Shorty's recently got Gilligan's Pinball. On my 20th birthday, I blew 25 bucks playing it to the end. "Kona's getting mad". There's also Playboy pinball, which said "I like a condfident man" to me after giving me a bonus game. Special score shots reward the player with boobie photos. Empowering? Degrading? Yes, Please! Speaking of birthdays, I would be quite happy with a chocolate fondue wrap. Who wouldn't? This is long. Props to Rachelle for her dictating ability. Riley is 4.5, and well on his way to being the ultimate geek. At ~3, he greatly desired to "cuddle the bad man", referring to Darth Vader. So here's his treatise on Astronaut Life, emailed to his penpal, Emily. I like to play spaceships. The Star Wars guys are the astronauts. The astronauts get to be in their astronaut clothes. The astronaut ship is on the moon. They are hopping on the moon. They fell down a hole by a ladder. They helped each other up the ladder. Then they went down the ladder again. This time they walked inside of the moon. The astronauts walked and walked. They came to another ladder. They climbed up again. They headed back to their space ship. And they took off and they were at their home. They flew their toy ship with the astronauts inside. Then they took off their equipment and suits. Then they played and acted silly. Astronauts are great at acting silly. They can make silly faces out of their helmets. Then they stick out their tongues to make silly faces. They use their hands to go like this (wiggle fingers by face). And when that is over, they listen to their music. Astronaut music. Like on Star Trek. The astronauts keep on dancing while the music is on. Then the music is over and they turn it off. Then they twirl. They get back into their suits and fly again. But this time they fly to Mars. They walk around so quickly that they come to another spaceship that is connected to their spaceship. Well, there are aliens inside of there. The aliens are taking a nap. Then the astronauts step on the floor and some of the floor broke. And then they fell down. They saw another hallway. It leads to the astronauts' ship. And then they're back home. And they take a nap. And then their parents come home and they told them all about their adventures in space. They go off to another city and walk to another ship. Then the ground rumbles a little. Then they run in the ship really fast and it takes off. Woosh! They are off of the world. They go really far and they can't see their home anymore. And they put on their suits and they put on some more suits and more suits. There were a lot of suits in that spaceship. Then they met a friend and ate some cotton candy. And it was astronaut cotton candy. Then they went to their house. They cheered and laughed and listened to the music. Astronaut music. Then they watched an astronaut video. They watched until it was dark. Astronauts take astronaut baths in the living room. The bathtub is where you watch the videos. And then there's a train. They climb aboard but nobody is there. They chug along. There's a restaurant and a bathroom and a kitchen on the train. And then there is a plane on a train. They get inside. The airplane takes off. They fly and fly. They all get to be in one seat at the same time. This seat is really huge and big. It's where you eat breakfast on a plane. And they go crunch, crunch, crunch. The astronauts go get some celery and then they have some chocolate for dessert. They mix and mix and mix. And then they taste the chocolate with a big spoon and they keep on mixing. They get more chocolate. They gobble it all down and they get big, round bodies. And ai-yai-yai, it turned into a bubble. And the bubble popped. And their tummies got very, very small. And they went,"teee-heee-heee". The astronauts climbed and held hands. And then the airplane crashes. The astronauts are OK, but the plane crashed into pieces. The astronauts jumped out with their gear. And they fell out of the plane. But their protection didn't make them get hurt. [Editor's note: unlike Brothermine's kneepads.] There's this platform with a door. The door opened, and they see some water. They fall down the water and they sink right to the bottom. They're holding their breath because they took off their oxygen tanks. And they come to the platform and they burst through the hole and come down and back into the plane they go. This is a new plane. This is a brick plane. Bricks are very strong and do not break. And there are brick seats. Inside the plane it is fruity. It smells fruity and tastes fruity. This plane sinks in some water. It sinks down and down. The plane changed into a submarine. A yellow submarine. "We all lived in the yellow submarine..." (Riley sings). They lived in the yellow submarine. And they did tricks. The captain woke up to the astronauts doing tricks. They went like this and then like this (showing Han Solo doll doing flips). And then the captain did the tricks too. The astronauts and the captain acted like seals. They...you know how seals go like this? "Aww-aww-aww". And then they stopped. I am greatly enjoying my new LCD monitor. A fun ny thing: after so many years of using a distorted curved-screen CRT screen, this one looks quite concave. I'm sure I'll get used to it. Thank you, Sweetie's profit sharing! Mmmm. Local peaches taste like candy. I have yet to find any Fancy Ladies--believe me, I've been looking. The season is late this year, so bump the listed dates on the charts back a few weeks. Corn's finally here too. I just learned that Yakima is a bastardized spelling of a word that means "well-fed people". I feel quite Yakima this morning. Grilled corn for dinner, cobbler for breakfast. Friday I experienced the Grays Harbor County Fair in Elma. You should go next year. In a last-minute decision to escape Seafair, Sweetie and I headed for Mt. Saint Helen's. Can anyone tell me why there is an "s" on the end of Helen? There are about 9 Saint Helens; none of them have anything to do with mountains, although one preferred a "pallet of straw and stones" to a bed. She would be able to camp comfortably on the mountain. I am not a saint, so we stayed in a cabin. We had dinner at a place called Hattie's, which is the cutest place ever, even if the food is a little odd. They're the object of an 8-minute segment on the Discovery Channel tomorrow night, and I found this about them. The woman who seated us said she was just there to visit, but then ended up getting our water and drinks and menus. She went on about a bad accident she's seen coming back from Vancouver, and clearly had no desire to go home. They had a lot of antique crap around, and have a little gray kitty figurine hidden somewhere. If you find the kitty (name of "sauerkraut"), you get a treat. They sell hats and shirts that say "I found Sauerkraut at Hattie's".Sadly, after a very careful summer of long sleeves, I got my itchy rash on my face. I've never had it on my face before, and while it only makes me look a little pink in most light, I feel like creepy lizard woman from mars. Cortisone, aloe, and benedryl for a couple weeks should take care of it. Never again will I leave without my baby blanket of protection. There is a man- I won't call him a movie star-that of late has inspired in me a rather sick fascination--like picking a scab when you know it's not all the way healed. This man is bald, and has a freaky voice. You may have seen him in such films as Saving Private Ryan (which I haven't seen) and Boiler Room (which I saw but don't remember him in it, as I was ogling Mr. Katt). His current roll has the same name as brothermine's first cat. All this is nonsense. This article is what has me mentally picking at Vin Diesel like a scab. Help. I hope this article makes you all as happy as it made me. Deleted email, Mayor Mercury, and Tarheel Burgers, all in one random little piece. Eek. I couldn't sleep last night and stayed up reading The Nanny Diaries. Between having been a nanny for two years and a zillion years working in 'educational' toystores, I've seen too many parents and situations like the book describes to call it 'satire'. Satire: the last resort against an all-out lawsuit. I suspect that no matter what the job is, if you are related in some manner to the care of a child whose parents work, it is impossible to draw firm relationship boundries. Five years post-nanny, I still feel definite obligations to the neat little critter I saw for 50+ hours a week for two years. And I still get annoyed when I remember being told that mommy "used to come home from work and whip up a nice souffle" while I juggled laundry, "developmental activities" for a toddler, dog and garden care and was proud to find time for a casserole--which everyone loved. That souffle apparently happened twice in 12 years. I knew this, and I still felt as inadequate as the comment was designed to make me feel. These are the things that happen when you hire a person to raise your kid and some part of you understands that the hired person is doing a better job at it then you are. You can't say "I think my kid loves you more", as that would lead to major life changes you don't want. So you complain about the lack of souffles instead. Ugh. Next time, I think I'll just have some Sleepytime Tea or something. |
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