All Things Profane and Sacred

Had another large scale freak out yesterday. Went to pay the bills and realized there was no cashola in the bank. I can fake it through another month, but after that I'm pretty well fucked up the ass with a huge donkey dildo (Hee Haw). I have an interview in early January (surprise!) but I don't want to get too invested in it-I'm too afraid of the let down. I really super duper need this job, which means there is no way I will get it.

It would be a nice surprise to win the lottery and not have to deal with all these problems, which is probably why I'm spacing out more and more into fantasies of not worrying constantly about these things and looking constantly for income. J says money is its own problem, but it's a problem I'm willing to explore at this juncture.

Our boy Pogo is an odd little dog. The other day he was peeing, and due to how he's put together and the angle he was peeing at, the stream was shooting through his front paws. When he heard the noise, he looked down to see what it was, and got hit in the face with his own urine.

Home again home again, jiggidy jig. I spent Christmas eve and Christmas in a nice little beach house up in Washington with J and the boys (a wonderful gift from my mom). We spent Christmas eve walking around on the beach (it was in the mid-fifties-fuck that white Christmas shit), until I managed to walk into a quicksand like patch and sink up to my knees. J pulled me out, and I was happy to find my shoes still on the feet. We went back to our cozy getaway, strung lights, baked ham and enjoyed. Christmas we did mushrooms and spent the day zonked, laughing, eating chocolate, drinking whisky and watching the scenery. Today we did some more walking on the beach, checked out all the dead jellyfish on the shore, packed up and came on back home.

Boy oh boy I love Christmas. I remember the year my roomate struck a bargain with me-we could only have a tree if she could put a penis on top of it. Of course I complied-I wanted to drink eggnog, get stoned and lie underneath watching the lights and breathing the pine. This Christmas was the best though. We may make it a yearly tradition.

Wooof. Today has been hectic, running here and there getting shit together. We're going up to the beachhouse early tommorrow morning, so I am packing and wrapping and drinking and puffing. Unfortunately, we'll be taking the boys-our petsitter fell through after realizing it was Christmas weekend. That and Pogo is suddenly having pissing on the floor problems since the houseguest (HG) has arrived. We are now calling him, "Housguest-him that brings rains of urine." He says the shitstorm is yet to come.

Yesterday was not the day to drive to Salem. The rain was blowing around I5, and the morning was grey, so about all I could see as I hurled through the cosmos was the taillights of the vehicles around me and the reflectors on the road stripes. But I made it there ok and on time, found a parking spot (joy!) and watched the mornings arguments.

Argument was held in the Supreme Courtroom. The room was full of graceful columns, and curved up to the stained glass ceiling. It was a truly beautiful room, and the accousitcs were good despite the mumbling attorneys. Neither of the cases on the docket were argued in an especially striking way. I did notice that most of the attorneys' hands were shaking as they made their argument (everyone except a grizzeled old war horse who had been through a campaign or two).

I then bopped around Salem while the judge I was meeting did Judgely things, came back, met with her, chatted about this and that and pumped her for information, such as "what are you looking for in a clerk?" and "why don't you hire me as your clerk?" She is looking for September, and has strongly suggested I put in an application as a floater (temporary) clerk down at the trial court. She has also asked me to keep in touch, so I guess I didn't come off as a scuzzy troll or anything like that, although she is such a slight woman that I felt as big as a tank as I towered over her.

I'm blogging from J's computer today (which I had to drag from his den to my office-our house is fucking huge) because my mouse went out on my beloved laptop yesterday. Arrg. I will eventually call Dell and see what the deal is-thankfully it is still under the huge warranty I got. But today is full of busyness-I have the boys to walk, the house to clean, a trip to Salem to plan, a car to clean out, and a super secret houseguest to pick up. He'll be staying with us for an indeterminant amount of time, which means we will have some sweet much needed rent money. Cross your fingers that my trip to Salem goes well-I really really need some income.

An attractive nuisance is something that is dangerous and attracts children to play or investigate. I guess you could say Pennywise the Clown in Stephen King's It was a personification of an attractive nuisance. Also, Michael Jackson. Anyhow, back to the point-yesterday when it snowed, I discovered I had a big ice covered Michael Jackson on my hands. You see, my driveway is the steepest hill for miles around, so I had 3 kids body sledding down my driveway into the middle of the street. I felt like such a killjoy making J bounce them off our property, but I sure won't make any progress on my loans if I have to pay some negligent parent for their stupid child after said child does a header into the retaining wall or is run over by a car.

One of the most irritating things about snow in Portland (besides the way they ignore it until it goes away, leaving roads slushy, icy and dangerous) is that people seem to forget that cars still use the roads when they are bad. Cars driven by people who only drive in the snow once or twice a year. Cars that stop slowly, skidding and fishtailing all over the road. Last night as I ran my errands (cursing all the way, ho ho ho), I saw idiots skiing, playing and sledding in the middle of the fucking road. The stupidity level is just astounding.

Well, I see the Bush government is now defending torture and domestic spying. Does anyone want to start a pool on what horrorshow they will defend next? I want to put a dollar on forced sterilization and a dollar on medical experimentation without consent.

Although I usually don't do political posts, I want to drop a few words about my main man, Senator Russ Feingold. In 1998, I had the honor of voting for the man. Although it was an off year election, there was a raring battle between Russ and this evil lying man whose campaign focused on "partial birth abortions." The polling place I went to was packed-the line of people started just inside the door. In Wisconsin you can register to vote at the polls, so I got into the line to register to vote. After waiting about 45 minutes to an hour in line, I got to the front, filled out my voter registration and got into another long line to vote. As I inched my way to the front, the kindly old ladies running the show came out for an annoucement. The station had just run out of ballots. If we wanted to wait, more were being air lifted in. So I sat some more. I really believed in Senator Feingold, and I wanted to be able to say proudly when he accomplished things in the name of Wisconsinites, "I voted for him. Russ Feingold is my representative."

So even though I am out here in the barbarous west, and Russ is no longer really my representative, I can't help but feel that his accomplishments are partially (to a very small extent, I realize) my own accomplishments. Here is the text of Senator Feingold's remarks in response to the President's radio address:

"Yesterday morning, Republican and Democratic Senators blocked a flawed bill that extended parts of the Patriot Act that are set to expire without fixing the fundamental problems with the law. Nobody wants these parts of the Patriot Act to expire -- we want to fix them before making them permanent, by including important protections for the rights and freedoms of innocent American citizens.

With a few modest but critical improvements, like making sure that when the government seeks library records it has to show that those records have some connection to a suspected terrorist or spy, we can give the government the powers it needs while also protecting the constitutional rights of law-abiding citizens. The President can sign a bill into law tomorrow to reauthorize the Patriot Act if he will agree to the bill that the Senate unanimously passed in July or he could extend the law for a short period so negotiations can continue.

The President's shocking admission that he authorized the National Security Agency to spy on American citizens, without going to a court and in violation of the Constitution and laws passed by Congress, further demonstrates the urgent need for these protections. The President believes that he has the power to override the laws that Congress has passed. This is not how our democratic system of government works. The President does not get to pick and choose which laws he wants to follow. He is a president, not a king.

On behalf of all Americans who believe in our constitutional system of government, I call on this Administration to stop this program immediately and to fully cooperate with congressional inquiries and investigations. We have had enough of an Administration that puts itself above the law and the Constitution."

I voted for him. Russ Feingold is my representative.

Generally when J is done with work he comes home, walks the dogs and takes a shower. Last night I opted out of this walk on the grounds that it was freaking freezing and I didn't want to go. So, I was curled up in the library with Tom Robbins latest when J came back. Amid the usual running around and roughhousing, J was shouting "NOOOOOooo!" I felt like I had to investigate, so I put down my book and wandered on over. He was clutching a note and his eyes burned with revenge. While he was out, unknown persons had taken our pirate flag, leaving a note that said they would give us further instructions for getting it back "after the dangerous time."

The other day I was watching the news about some bum or other who has been dicking around (this is one of those legal terms of art that you learn in law school) while in office, and the reporter said that he could be tossed in jail "for up to 10 years" in a voice filled with awe and wonderment. I was not filled with awe and wonderment, unless you count wondering whether the reporter's head was filled with shit. As far as I'm concerned, a jail term of "up to 10 years" is nowhere near enough time in jail for anyone (whether it's those corrupt liberal Canadians who are making us Lefties in the states look bad, or those bastard Republicans who are so crooked they have to screw their pants on in the morning)who has abused the power of their office. As far as I'm concerned, abuse of office by police officers, judges, senators or presidents is treason. Last I checked, the maximum penalty for treason was death. Now, I don't favor the death penalty, and I don't think we should start swinging our axes yet, but I do think that 10 years is a pretty paltry maximum sentence considering the blatent fuckery some of these people are up to. (Up to which some of these people are? Damn you grammer nazi!)

I was showing J the presents I bought for my youngest brother when he pulled one out and said, "What's this? No, this is absolutely inappropriate." It was one of those tubes that is about 5 inches long and filled with water and kinda fun to squeeze and such. I picked it up, and read to J, "The Wonder Weiner. Fun for kids age 8 and up. What's the friggen problem?" J responded, "We are not getting your little brother anything he will stick his penis into, especially not something called a Wonder Weiner."

I think someone was jealous.

I had a busy weekend somehow. Warning: long rambling post ahead.

We scored some sweet free tickets to go see Ron "Tater Salad" White. J's kung fu instructor's second job is working on staging, and J happened to mention that we saw a very funny guy named Ron White on comedy central who was on blue collar tv, but who was funny anyway, and J's kung fu instructor said, "No way-he's doing a show this Saturday at Spirit Mountain Casino-I can get you comp tickets if you want." Mr. Kung Fu thought it was funny because there's never been anyone at the casino that anyone he knew wanted to go see bad enough to drive down. I thought it was funny because the tickets were $45 each and the show was sold out and here us poor folks got to pick up our free tickets at a special table next to all the people sitting around waiting to buy any overflow seating.

Casinos kinda depress me for some reason. I was also pretty surprised that you guys in Oregon let kids in your casinos-not necessarily on the floor, but everywhere else was pretty full of kids (even at 11pm when we got done). Anyhow, I was thinking that we could score some cheap drinks and eats when we were out there, but food and drink was horrible expensive so we just ate quick at the grill and got out of there. I always though food, drink and lodging at casinos was inexpensive (all the more reason to gamble my pretty), but apparently I was mistaken, at least in this casino.

Meh-I've never been a gambler anyhow-I'm way to cheap. My grandpa used to call it "giving money to the relatives." I've never quite gotten why people try to guilt Indian tribes for making money off casinos. Like they're going to be all, "Jeez, you're right. The few gambling addicts who ruin their lives and reputations are an excellent reason to go back to abject poverty and unemployment. And we totally forgive you for all the smallpox blankets and stuff."

Anyhow, getting back on track. We also made it down to Saturday Market this weekend. J just got a nice Christmas bonus, so he gave me some money to buy Christmas presents with. I've got a box to send home full of good stuff for all.

I've also got a box of baked beans ready to go off to Switzerland. I learned this summer that my friend in Switzerland can't get canned baked beans there, and she loves them. They are like candy to her. Since she has scored me lots of Swiss Chocolate, I figure she has some beans comming. I just don't want to have to write "canned baked beans" on the mailing contents slip.

Do you think it's coincidence that as I start to work on this brief, some jackass down the street starts making all this jackhammering noise? I feel picked on.

One way to really annoy Oregonians is to refer to Deschutes County as "De poop county" or "Poop chute county." After J stopped muttering about foreigners this and blatherdy that, we discussed the proper way to spell poop chute. As you can see by the post, I advocate the "chutes and ladders spelling." J claims that it is "poop shoot" because that is where poop shoots out of. Or "that is out of where poop shoots" if you're a grammer nazi and you haven't heard that it is now ok to end a sentence with a preposition, such as on, in or of.

The rooster that lives accross the street is huddled with two hens on the steps of the scary clown house (SCH). The SCH is directly accross the street from me. It is badly in need of paint and tends to gather newspapers on the porch. It has a big screen on the porch that is falling off. I have never seen anyone leave or enter the SCH. There is a dog inside that I can see standing in the window. Sometimes it barks. No one tells it to hush. I have never seen a person walking around in the SCH. There are no lights ever on in the main house. There is a light in the attic (isn't that Shell Sylverstein?) that is usually on, but there is a metal screen with a few cloths over it, so no one can see inside. The only visitor I've ever seen is a lawn crew that cut the grass, picked up the newspapers and left.

I'm not sure who planted the idea in my head that there is a flesh eating clown living there, but it's pretty pursuasive on a gray day while the wind rattles my eaves and I plot ways to acheive an income. If the place is vacant, why the dog and the attic light? If the place is inhabited, when are they doing stuff like getting groceries or walking the dog? Even if an invalid lives there, there should be visitors-nurses, meals on wheels, etc. WTF?

I was feeling pretty sorry for myself this morning as I was out walking the dogs at 6 am. The wind was blustering, the cold was biting and the dark was, well, dark. Of course, then I got an email from my Aunt telling me that it was five below in Madison and nobody in Wisconsin was gonna feel sorry for me out here in the 30 something degree weather.

My meeting with the attorney went pretty well. It gave me hope again (dammit) and it was nice to meet with someone in the legal community who I admired and really enjoyed talking with. I think the thing was simply that he was good at listening, and I haven't found that to be the case with a lot of attorneys. It's like they're going through an internal checklist of the things they have to say and then they spew them all out as fast as possible to move on to the next big thing. On the minus side, we were dressed very similarly (this does not happen all that often with me-who knew purple tunics were hip?) so I felt very junior high.

Every morning at 4:30 am, J's alarm goes off. Every morning he hits snooze, cuddles closer to me and says, "When I get home, do you just want to snuggle under the covers together?" and I always reply, "That sounds great." And then the day goes by, and we both realize that we have things to do and put off snuggle time and then it's somehow 9:00 and J needs to hop in bed while I'm still going strong. I don't see how I can have no income, and yet stay busy all the friggen time. My afternoon attorney meeting ran late, so I was late getting groceries and late getting home. I still need to portion the 21 lb. turkey I roasted yesterday into packages for pot pies or soup. Then I need to look up, read and understand a weird court of appeals case, because I was volunteered to help an attorney write an amicus brief, an attorney that I coincidentally had a coffee date with tommorrow at 9am. This attorney is well known and well established and if he thinks I'm smart, it would be very good for me. If he thinks I'm dumb, it will be very bad for me.

I have the feeling tommorrow is going to be hectic, up to and including my night shift out at St. Andrews.

Crazy Link madness:

For you orifice lovers out there.

If you're like J and you like bad hats, here's
a product you're sure to enjoy.

Give the gift of blasphemy this season.

Where to go if someone you know needs help

Some hot porn action

My astrologer blames my job issues on Mars going retrograde. Thanks a lot Mars. Asshole.