All Things Profane and Sacred

Today I'm-a hungering for a game of Axis and Allies. Mmmm. Running rough-shod over the globe. Waging a land war in Asia. Carving up Africa. Bombing Moscow. Too fucking bad my nemisis is back in the mental hospital.

A friend from home emailed me that she has bears (a mama and a cub) hanging out in her back yard.  I can't remember ever seeing a wild bear out roaming around.  I do remember leaving a bottle of honey out in the tree fort one night and finding it ripped to shreads the next day.  I thought it was a bear at the time (what could be more mundane than a bear after honey), but it was probably just a racoon or something.  Poor bears.  They used to be in charge, but now they're in hiding.

So I'm a big fan of craigslist personals. I can't help it, they're all so interesting. In the interest of public service, I've come up with some of the basic strategies that seem particularly unsuitable for catching a mate:

1. The "Dude, what's wrong with you Bitches/Bastards???" approach. I don't know, insulting the entire gender of the person you're looking to score with may not be the best way to recommend yourself. Surprising just how many of these are posted (included in this category are the always pathetic, "where are all the good men/women" ads).

2. The "I'm so lonely and pathetic" approach. Yes, I'll be your emotional crutch and make you whole again. You whiney sack of shit.

3. The "Gee I'm a fantabulous perfectionistic ass" approach. These generally contain a detailed list of mandatory traits only superman/woman could pull off. Boy. Wonder why you can't find anyone. It sure is fun to hang with someone who keeps you under a microscope and keeps reminding you how you will always come up short.

4. The "I'll wow you with intellectualism" approach. It's not very impressive when you misspell your $5 words or use them in a context that makes it obvious that you have no idea what you're talking about.

5. The "I love single mothers" approach. This is only found in M seeking W. Now, I don't know if this is just me (I can't speak for the single mothers), but I find this a little creepy. There's nothing wrong with being ok dating women with kids, but looking for a date with someone based on the fact that she has kids? Weird. To me that shouts pedophile.

Anyhow. That's my two cents.

*Update* I have now seen W seeking M ads looking for single fathers. I'm proud (?) to say I find this just as creepy.

Ah!  Sweet internet.  I had to fight tooth and nail to get this puppy installed, but here we are!  Up and running.  All things are again at my fingertips.  The birds are in the trees, the waters in the oceans, the world revolves, and I am at my keyboard-able to access 24 hour a day pornography.  Thank you, Al Gore.

The new neighborhood is weird.  While I was out for a run today, some weird lady waiting for the bus on the other side of the road yelled, "You go Girl" at me and gave me a thumbs up.  WTF? 

I went to stalker court today to see my mentor in action.  She must be a bad ass, because the large tattooed guy sitting next to me muttered "Oh, shit" when he saw her walk in.  Zing!  I didn't have much time to spend there, so I didn't get to see how his case went, but it was pretty interesting none the less.

I am exactly 5'7"!

I wove my wittle boy and wittle girl. Yes I do. Oh such fuzzy wuzzy schnookims. Der so good! Such good wittle pup! And mama's good wittle kitty! So cute! Who's a good boy? Who's mama's good girl? Such pals!

Ok. I just had to get that out of my system.

I was reading a description of the scene out at Pompeii, and how there are people preserved in the moment of their death that the tourists go and look at. I thought it was pretty weird to think that my dead body could stared at by some future generation as a tourist attraction. Then I thought that my body would probably be frozen in some horibly embarassing pose such as picking my nose, scratching my ass or going to the bathroom (ala Rodin's "Thinker"). Jebus. I hope there isn't an afterlife-I'd be pretty pissed off. Fuck you, future generations.

Ithyphallophobia -- fear of seeing, thinking about or having an erect penis

You know, the more I know about Barry Goldwater, the more I respect him. Pull your tongue in there MacDuff-yes, I know who Barry Goldwater is. The thing I like about reading fairly evenhanded political books is I discover politicians who I've really despised for their policies and discover things I like about them. Barry Goldwater was for gays in the military. He also encouraged John Dean during Watergate to just tell what he knew and let the chips fall where they may, despite any damage to the Republican party.

A few years back I found out that when the federal government was ignoring AIDS as "gay cancer" Orrin Hatch was working on getting more funds to address it as the dangerous health problem it was (and remains). While I had never approved of Orrin Hatch, you got to pause when you find out something like that. It gives me hope that despite the present climate and divisions, there are actually politicians who can look beyond their prejudices or their party affiliation and do the right thing.

Had a nice few hours on my radioactive porch today. I made sure to cream every inch of my poor body with sun block this time. I can justify sunbathing-I really really need the vitamin D. On the other hand, when I have skin cancer and wrinkly skin, I'll probably think about all the vitamin D I could've had straight from the bottle. Although I'm sure by then we'll discover that vitamins are what really causes cancer.

So I've got my shades pulled over the sliding glass door to the patio because it's very sunny out, and the door to the patio is half open. The cat took off for the patio at a run, hit the door with a loud "THOK," bounced off and headed more gingerly out the open portion of the door. If I was a more compassionate human being, I'd croon to her gently and see if she's hurt.

Instead I laughed my ass off. Poor kitty.

You know what's really good? Seeing your dog wag his tail in his sleep. I know, I know-he's probably dreaming about pooping on the floor or getting into the trash-but it's just so darn cute!

Just one more week in this madhouse and I'm retiring to my garden cottage in friendly Woodstock. How long, oh lord? The neighbors are rattling the walls with their techno, the loud sex lady is screaming her approbation of her lover's moves and arguing couple is, well, arguing. All I want is peace, rest. And having a bar within walking distance really caps the cherry.

At least loud sex lady should be done soon. I wish I could say the same about techno thumpers and arguing couple.

I picked the Clinton biography up at the library today. I'll give ya a definitive report when I've finished it up. For now I'm just flogging away at it-shit man, I'm paying by the day for a 900 page book.

I'm unwillingly drawn back into national politics due to my scandal jones. I don't understand what that's all about-I really didn't give a shit about the ever so titilating Clinton/Lewinsky mess-but give me some good old abuse of power, Watergate style,and I'm in. I think I'll get some stuff about the teapot dome scandal next library trip, and the last Woodward book about the current administration. I'd also like to read the Clinton biography, but since I'm 212 on the waiting list, I'm hoping the library is keeping it as a rental book (.50/day, I suppose I could handle that).

Yet another reason to vote out Bush-

I'm a-reading John Dean's excellent book (Worse than Watergate), and he mentions some stuff about continuity of government plans. Basically the plan calls for the white house staff to be flown to that super secret bunker hidden deep under ground in the event of any extreme emergency. So in case of nuclear attack, the president & staff can govern from under the ground where they're all safe and sound.

As I'm reading this, I suddenly realize that if we wipe all life off the face of the earth in a nuclear attack, the Bush white house will be left to repopulate the Earth.

My dog ate most of a soda can today. I am utterly baffled.

Today they tested the fire alarms at work. I shit you not. They couldn't do fire alarm tests after hours or during August when the place is all closed up. Oh no no no! That would be too easy for all involved.

Boy, those fuckers are loud. And everyone is all curled up inside studying for the bar when, BWAMP BWAMP BWAMP. And lights are strobing and fire doors crashing down. I was worried I had gone and had me a flash back. Scary scary stuff.

You know what I really really hate? When you go to disconnect a utility and they keep you on hold forever because you're really low priority, and they want to know ahead of time whether you're leaving the area or just sick of their shitty service so they can try to sell you more shitty services (Ooohh! Free shitty voice mail for 6 months! Wow!) when all you want is for them to disconnect your fucking phone and leave you alone.

Hey, Qwest! Here's an idea for you. Instead of waiting until your customers are totally fed up with your shitty service and then trying to entice them with additional shitty services you offer "free," maybe you should just offer good service from the start, and keep providing that service.

Like, don't charge humongous fees just to transfer service from one end of town to the other. Don't keep people on hold for several days. Don't skip sending out bills and then lie about it. Don't try to charge fees on anything that you'll back down on if someone gets pissed off about it. Don't pass on the cost of the lawsuits you brought down upon your shit-ass to your frazzled, fed up customers.

Ah. That feels better. Fuck you Qwest. I don't need your brand of shit no more.

Dog tongue touched my tongue. It was gross. And too uncomfortably close to beastiality for my tastes.

So many beautiful people out and about Portland today. I drove around with a friend in search of guitar strings and got a chance to take a look at parts of the city I seldom travel to. We drove from Woodstock through Hawthorn and ended up on Broadway where we purchased strings from a fine young man with the most beautiful blue eyes. Seriously, how do you handle such a mundane transaction with someone so heartbreakingly beautiful?

We ended up back on Woodstock at a coffee place. I attempted to buy decaffinated tea to sooth my rebelling vocal cords, but ended up with something entirely different. I didn't want to stir up a fuss-they were training someone new-so I just drank it down. Icy instead of hot, but just as pleasing on the pipes. I'm not sure what's up with the voice. I sound like I'm going through puberty. "Do you want fries with that?"