Words from the burbs

Okay, so one of the themes of this blog (and apparently my life, since it's reflective) is cleaning my house (the other is drinking alot and eating at restaurants-since I don't cook and am a lush). Last nite, Zule went to the Oxymoronotron show, I stayed home and carpet cleaned. Why? Well, basically, my mom and sister as my birthday present gave me: "a housecleaning". My reaction: "gratitude.... embarassment...horror...shame...gratitude". This means something! My cat is the dirtiest creature in the house, followed by Sweatone, and then Dbot, Zule and I are tied for last place. I grew up with a housekeeper, so I never really learned to take care of the house, but that is no excuse. Our housekeeper when I was little, Delores, used to iron my spandex jeans into creases just to fuck with me. If I were sick from school, she'd get super pissed b/c she liked to clean the house in total solitude, accompanied only by the T.V. Then, the jeans would have creases ironed into the front. Try wearing that to high school when you have a reputation as a metal queen!

My mom let me know that my grandfather is in the hospital. He has emphysema, so I'm going to go visit him this morning. My mom, who is the strangest and coolest person that I know (writer, artist, lived in  bus for four years with no plumbing until she renovated a barn to live in), said "Yeah, dad's in the hospital. Some people take vacations, he goes to the hospital for a spa".

My mom is a really interesting person. She grew up in the hills of Indiana, with 7 younger siblings, no plumbing, and a mom who was schizophrenic. When I was little, I'd outwait her at bedtime, knowing that she'd probably start drinking as soon as we were down at 8 o'clock, and I'd pop back up at about 9:30 p.m. for the good stories. Let me tell you, my mom has the good stories. Something about her mom standing above her bed with a knife in her hand, and then my mom hiding all of her brothers and sisters from her mom and waiting for her mom to go to sleep (schizophrenics don't sleep, so it was a long wait). If anyone has a reason to be a sad, my mom does. But in fact, she's probably the coolest person I know. Until I was 23, I was so worried that I would be schizophrenic and cause that much pain to my loved ones (my grandma was such a wonderful person when she was not ill, but when she was not sick- she was "flat" and tranq'ed to the gills. I did not want to live life like that). Its not genetic, but it does seem to generation skip. Read "I Know This Much Is True" by Wally Lamb. Good book on schizophrenia and loving the person who has it.

Zule and I went to pick up dbot today, at the cracker barrel, which Baal probably selects for some odd, sarcastic reason known only to him

on the way down, I saw the following:

a) 10 wooden crosses denoting where people had died on the road. I'm puzzled: Do Jewish, Arabic or non-religious people ever die in road accidents?

I've never seen anything alongside the road but crosses. I rather suspect a good percentage of the dead were drinking and driving.

b) an out of order sign on a pepsi machine that was written in both english and arabic at the Tennesse border welcome station. I hope it  said out of order in arabic, for all I know it said "this is a jihad, stand back from this pepsi machine for the love of allah."

At cracker barrell, I saw a baby with a mohawk, and lots of people talking on cell phones. And some kids sucking down coffee creamers from the little coffee creamer containers. I used to do that with my sister. The half and half was so sweet. It made me miss my childhood for one minute, to be there again, doing that, in that moment. I think I'm having angst because Monday is my 30th birthday.

Last night, zule, scott and I went to Bablyon and ate lamb and watched Aramie bellydance. Then Scott and I went to MSL and made fun of people. Well I did. I don't mean harm, I just find most people, myself included, to be good targets of derision.

Tonight is my first function at the bar association. I'm sure it will be uber-ghey, but I'm oddly excited. It turns out, an old friend of mine for 14 years is going to the same law school in the same "year". (Lawyers separate themselves by year, forever, so even at 85 you are a certain "year" at a lawschool). In a way, I have no idea why I'm going to law school. I think its just the only thing I would be good at (being a lawyer). If you've ever watched "Finding Nemo", I am exactly like the fish "Dorrie" in personality...so we'll see how this transalates to professional life.

I need to clean my house. My kitchen floor is slightly less sticky than the le brea tar pits in los angeles. To my knowledge, there are no animals stuck to my kitchen floor though, although that may explain a certain smell that is eminating from therein.

  I learned in a political science class in college that in the United States, through all means of production, it takes 5 kilocalories of gasoline to produce 1 kilocalorie of food.

I find it doubly interesting that our gasoline prices are so high, but the right is not objecting, b/c the additional cost per gallon is going to corporate interests and not to a tax, funding the state. The effect is still the same as if there were a sudden fifty cent a gallon increase in gasoline taxation. For the first time here in Louisville, I'm seeing super old super rich old ladies pumping their gas. Apparently, even they are avoiding the full service lanes because of the cost.

It is expensive!

I would detail the incredibly boring shit I do for a living, but know this.. the fate of our uncollapsed wavefront you and I call reality fucking HINGES on my recording of documents in the land records. Its that important. I bet youre some jealous bitches.

 

I went to story telling last nite and got drunk. I'm sure I was obnoxious, but since I dont recall the details, I'm unconcerned. I got a free glass of wine, and it was a fifth glass of wine and that was a bad call. Zule was like "youre stupid if you drink that".  He was right.

My little baby boy has a bad cough. He's such a sweetie pie. His grandparents found one of those hot wheels battery operated cars in the trash or something and fixed it up for him. So he tools around in a little monster truck. Maybe I should get him a teeny pair of balls to stick on the rear bumper? Has anyone else seen this? The truck balls phenomena? The first time I saw it, on the road near Nashville, I almost pissed myself laughing. God bless you, former confederate states, for your sense of "Git -R- Done"  humour.

     http://www.bullsballs.com/real/big/truck/balls3.html

You know, most people seem to think that whether a girl likes a boy, or a boy likes a girl, or any combination thereof is dramatic. Please grow the fuck up. I have an orphan sponsoree in Kenya who lives with his five brothers and sisters in a Kenyan orphanage without electricity b/c his parents died of aids and he probably will too. So the next time you hear anyone bitching about losing five pounds, or the fact that they can't hook up or something, please tell them to shut up. My avoidance of so-called drama is of legend. I will recuse myself from social situations, just to avoid "drama". Cancer and genocide are really "drama", the fact that someone got drunk and fucked the wrong person is not, at least in my book. But what do I know? I'm super pretentious and stuff.

Speaking of pretentious, I'm Unitarian. So we spend the entire time at church being liberal do-gooder people, and then right after church, everyone, including me, is in the drive through at McDonalds (there is one right by my church) fueling up on consumerism prior to returning to our east end lives of comfort and de facto segregation.

 

If  I had a soundtrack, my friends and I decided last night, it would sound like this:

"yeah, that chick was hot and stuff, but I really don't know, b/c I was really drunk".

most of my comments in a conversation run just like that.

today, i'm finishing a mural on my wall. Tomorrow, I'm going to my most recent addiction, "Art Sanctuary's Storytelling" at Molly Malone's.

I think I like hearing other people's life stories too much.

For the fans:

One time, years ago, Zule and I decided to go to Mexico for the evening (we lived in San Diego, so it was within twenty miles). We went down there and ran out of U.S. Dollars. The mood of the host company shifted dramatically, once we started using pesos. Just like a bad ketamine trip. So, after partying down dancing with Mexican ladies and gents in a cowboy bar at the very end of Revolucion, we went home. Sad news, we had forgotten to save enough money for the parking on the U.S. side. Dave just took off. (there is additional drama here, but Zule would kill me if I blogged it). Then, on the way home, Zule got super mad at me, b/c I ate a street vendor tamale and went back to being in a good mood. I will vouch, I did not get intestinal parasites from the tamale, it was delicious, considering it was probably made of dog or dead gringo tourists.

Okay, so Zule wants to take out life insurance policies on fifty random healthy young people, and just wait. He figures there is  a probabilitiy one will die off soon. You know what? I'd never want to cross zule. He's real smart and stuff. Like if we got divorced or something, he'd let me keep the house, but make me move the entire building somewhere else.

I think I'm going to go to Babylon this weekend watch the bellydancers. I'm going to bring my zils, and let the baby dance along. I may even dance. Doubtful, I'm rather a fringedweller. But they have the best food there, ever.

 

 

This morning, I let myself into the office. Then I went out to get the Wall Street Journal. When I got back to the office, I'd accidentally locked myself out. D'oh. Then it was catch-22 time. Do I call the landlord and get let in? Or do I wait for the attorneys, who have wierd office hours? I called the landlord and surely, no sooner had I done so then one of the attorneys came in, and looked at me puzzedly. I'm such an airhead.

Working and stuff. So I go out a lot. Rest is for the weak.

I'm hoping Rehnquist pulls a Shiavo and stays hooked up to feeding tubes and stuff and never DIES.

My friend Gary's blog got put in a local weekly publication, Velocity as a blog pick. Ironically, I'd been asking him if he was in Velocity last Saturday. His blog does rock and stuff.

www.mrquick.net

A friend of mine came over last night. Independently of me, he had been at the same place I was a day or two ago, and had independently seen a really strange looking person. So, we were trying to draw a picture of this person for Zule, so that he could understand why we were freaked out. When I woke up this morning, the little freaky pictures were taped on (1) my mirror, (2) my smokes and (3) my diet pepsi. Too funny!

Zule was supposed to go, but he got stuck at home watching our pukey toddler. Scott and I went to the mag and I had a blast! I was fully trashy and trashed. I did not win a fucking barbeque though. Damn. I'm hoping the pictures of me in the mens restroom surface soon. I bored Gary and Scott to death with drunk talk so they wrote on me. Happy Birthday, MAG BAR! Off to church. Surprisingly, unhungover. I think I need a post emoticon on this site to show whether I'm hungover or not.

Okay, update: I'm totally hungover. It hit me at noon. I must have been drunk still earlier. My favorite part of the night is when I fell on my ass at the walgreens' parking lot and scott had to pick me up. Thanks Scott, youre awesome.

I finally got out of work, there was some hold up trying to email enormous title document scans to an asshat attorney in chicago. Finally we just fed ex'd them. If you had told me at eighteen that I'd find love in the world of condominium and title work in real estate, I would have laughed. More to the point, I'm fairly good at it. I was helping Evil Randar look over a really messed up condominium plan for a california project, and the attorney is now offended, but changed everything over based on what Evil and I said. Ha! I met Evil about five years ago. We both worked at a crazy law firm in southern california. I was really lonely, and had no friends there. I have no idea why, but everyone hated me (I'm friendly and nice, so everywhere but there, I've always made friends rather easily). Evil Randar and I were both outcasts, but we became great friends, and caused lots of prank routing runs. All I have to say to the evil randar is "Okay thanks!".

I went to jazz in the garden at a Boone's nursery in Middletown. Quite fun. I ate a lot of hors d'oeurves and drank a lot of free wine, which will come as a surprise to no one.. Now I have to clean my house. BLAH!

Okay, so zule and I ate at Wicks today, and we were filmed from three different angles displaying that uniquely Kentucky thing: smoking in a restaurant for the local news. When I first moved back here from California, the first time someone asked me "smoking or non" when I went to a restaurant I giggled. Anyhoo, we were supposedly on the news. But we refused to be interviewed, since people take they smoking rights seriously here, and Zule and I are pro ban. Yes that's right, we are smokers who are pro ban and we did not want someone kicking our asses over that. Over having an offensive website, sure, we'll take that ass kicking.

Okay, so my friend who works at the state reformatory prison in La Grange just called me. They had two dudes escape, it was all over the news (probably eclipsing Zule and my moment- not that I watched it I forgot). The dudes never left the compound alive it turns out. They hid in a dumpster. The trash in the dumpster gets fucking squashed prior to leaving the prison. They dead. My friend had to id the bodies and call the parents. Now that is truly worthy of a blog. http://www.wave3.com/

Since its wednesday, I might as well start planning for the weekend.

On Saturday I'm going to the Mag Bar birthday bash. And then on Sunday, I'm going to the Atomic Saucer to show off some art I did.

I'm going to hop off here to go to Hooters with Jacqi and Bobby and all our boys.

"Feeding the Guinea Pigs" sounds like an euphanism, but I've actually been feeding these two really cute guinea pigs for some neighbors. Sweatone loves it and calls them "bunny oink oinks".

I left work early yesterday b/c sweatone had a bloody nose for two hours. Personally, I blame the Republican party, but I blame them for everything.

Ugg, I feel like crap. Lets just say its "Dark Pants Week" at my house.

Imagine bouncing on this down the street.

http://www.extremerestraints.com/stat/ec709.html

(NOTSAFEFORWORK< but funny as hell).

Okay, I drafted loan docs all day. If your not jealous, you should be. It so exciting! (that is a lie).

O why was I at that website? extremerestraints? Who knows. I get bored easily.

Apparently, the sex quiz post I posted has spread all over the internet like a 17 year old tijuana whore. Damn, I wish people read b/c of my life, not a quiz!

Baals stroller tires exploded at disney world. TRUE STORY.

Zule survived his hike.

I went to the mojo bash last nite and had a great time, sober.

What else? O yeah, I went to church today on a whim. www.tjuc.org. I also went to the fountains at the meagher center so sweatone could splash.

Okay at work, so I have a clock on my computer, in the lower right hand corner of the monitor and one on the phone. They are both wrong, compared to my cell phone, which goes by a satellite, and their slight discrepancy bugs the living shit out of me all day long (what can I say, except OCD). So,  I track my arrival by the slow clock and when I leave by the fast clock. I remembered to water the plants, yay!

I miss zule. Scott and I went to el tarascos yesterday with Sweatone. I miss Dbot too! Well off to nap. I am going to a party tonight, and my hair looks great! (see I am a girl).

Things about me that you may not know from reading the blog:

I have red hair and look like a mix between molly ringwald and elizabeth berkley.

I can say the alphabet backwards.

I bite my nails.

I love science fiction.

I love euchre.

I like to be left alone.

I really love my kids, even though I complain about them a lot. They make my life new, everyday.

I checked my schedule for law school online and I'm scared just looking at the classes. Ugg. 15 credit hours. Someone buy me a case of wine. Thanks!

I took this online test regarding sexuality at http://tests.studentcenter.org/take_test.php

I got a 65.82%.
That's pretty high. I lost points for never fucking an animal or a corpse. Beat that score, people.

Zule is happy, he is gone to New Hampshire. He has military ration packs to eat and a gps.

I cleaned my car today. I was supposed to go to Fat Jimmy's with Dunnaree, but did not want to take the baby out with a runny nose and fever.

 

For no good reason, the kitchen floor is sticky. its not like it was bukkake night or anything. Zule is leaving to go hiking and install servers in New Hampshire. He'll probably get lost in the woods. One time, he got lost in San Diego, in the desert, hiking trying to find the Devil's Punchbowl, armed with a hiking guide and a yuppie compatriot. He ended up calling me from Viejas Casino hours later, drinking beer. www.viejas.com

 I was frightened out of my mind. 

The plants are still alive at work, but I took out the coffee pot. I left it on all weekend, and it was reduced to charcoal. I think I fixed it though. Don't drink the coffee.

 

The fourth was great! At 2, Sweatone was in a parade. We ended the parade at the home of a local notable who has model trains running through his yard. Its like Norman Rockwell and stuff.

At the end of the block is our traditional Fourth of July block party. The biggest entertainment was the water balloon slingshot. Some frat dudes that live on our street would pull it taught and then BAM, hit any car that came down our street. Strangely entertaining. In the evening, the neighbors set of fireworks until the cops came to tell them to knock it off about 10 (no, I didn't call). I feel sorry for the fireflies on the fourth though, flying up in to the air, looking for glowworm in all the wrong places.

 

Zule and I drove Dbot to get picked up by BAAL in Murfreesborough, to meet at our traditional location: Cracker Barrel exit 78B. The server was gay, but not cool at all. Usually gay servers are cool. Not this one. I wanted to ask him if he'd tried Cracker Barrel's very own "Bone Suckin' Hot Sauce," but did not b/c BAAL was cracking me up too hard with his description of German commercials for cellphone ringer downloads.

On the way back, two interesting things happened: (1) we stopped at Smiths' Grove Kentucky. Dude, as soon as we got off the freeway, we saw Amish! They were blocking traffic with their buggies and their horses were shitting all over the street, but they're so cool, I forgive them. The gas station there, however, was the most frightening experience of the week.  If you have a stereotype that pops into your head when you hear the word "Kentucky", envision that. Nuff said. I hope the Amish open a gas station there. I'd rather pump my gas by hand with one of those old fashioned water pumps than endure the Smiths' Grove BP ever again. They have an all you can eat buffet for $6.99, but I have no idea what the food was or what animal it used to be. There was  sign that said "Broaster Chicken" over the buffet. Maybe its genetically modified or something. The people therein seemed genetically truncated.

2) About 70 miles from Louisville, I look over and a sign said "USED COWS FOR SALE." I shit you not. I have no idea what this could mean. At all. I'm so puzzled. Zule said "I prefer my cows to be virgins".

We were also blocked in traffic by trucks with large amounts of hay. I saw about five "China Buffet"s. I want to open one named "Va China Buffet".

This weirdness is nothing compared to San Diego though. One night, we were awoken by a loud banging noise outside our apartment, apparently a transexual in a wig was trying to break into our downstairs neighbors' patio. And that was on a weeknight at 9:30 p.m.

I love saying scotus, instead of supreme court of the united states. It sounds like "scrotum". The scotus is losing a non-scrotum wielding member.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/8430976/

Personally, I have no issue with a conservative appointment, as long as they are center and choice. I urge everyone to call their Senators and make your voice heard. It may have no effect, but, at least once I've done that I'll feel better about the appointee. Ladies, the years of reproductive freedom, however limited it may be, might be ending in this country. So don't drunk fuck dudes at parties, or you'll have to go to Canada if you get pregnant, or some butcher doctor who lost his medical license to have an abortion. I'm different than most pro-choice people though, I don't argue that it is not terminating a life, I just think that it is a totally unique situation, in which the life-to-be is dependent on the host. Until a "life" is viable outside of the womb, it should be a woman's sole discretionary decision as to what to do.

Last night, my friend Scott came over and we went to El Tarasco with Zule and the kids. Fun times! I tied a bandana around my leg a.k.a. the Silver Spoons look to see if anyone would comment. No one did. Well, we have to drive to Tennessee today. And I have to babysit tonight. My sister called me last night for my friend Charlie's number and said "Can I have Charlie's number? He's having a birthday party. You're not invited yet, can you babysit?" That's cold dawg. Charlie did call to invite me later, but I think it was a pity invite. I'll take it out on him in law school. He's going to be entering at the same time as I.