Monday, April 11, 2005

Dirty Laundry

A very close friend of mine, Gordon, left a comment on my boyfriends page regarding airing out our dirty laundry on our blogs. I thought "What a great idea!" and proceeded to think of which shirt I would like to hang out on the line first. My first article of clothing is a button down pizza stained shirt that should have been given to Good Will a long time ago but still occupies a space in the closet. Gordon accompanied me and about 4 other freinds of mine including my boyfriend to New Jersey last spring to my family's cottage on the beach. One of the friends was his girlfriend Jen . Friend Y (we will call her this for confidentiality reasons) was an oldfriend of theirs from Greenpoint and friend X was a casual friend of ours also from Greenpoint. The invitation of X and Y was the result of a previous drinking party where at the time it seemed like a marvelous idea to invite them to New Jersey for the weekend. We arrived in 2 seperate cars on Friday night and proceeded to all get drunk. We decided that evening that we would make brunch the following morning as Y was hailed as an exceptional cook. So here I am Saturday moring in bed ..asleep...lets say around 10am ish. Y comes bounding into my bedroom and decides to wake me up as she feels its time to make breakfast. After 2 bleary eyed minutes I realize Y is drunk..again. At 10 am. After a trip to the grocery store with drunk Y in tow we return home. Eat and go to the beach. Now my particuliar vacation spot is not Miami beach. It is the Jersey shore mind you. After settling into our beach chairs..Y takes off her bikini top. I freaked and politely informed her that this was not the place for naked tits. OK problem solved. Top went back on. Go home ..dinner and X and Y seem to be becoming pretty damn friendly with one another. And pretty damn wasted. I encouraged both of them that if they were going to go to Karaoke night at the local bar with us they might want to take a power nap. (purely for the benefit of their singing voices, you know) This task was somewhat accomplished and we all go to the bar.

Now I am by no means boring and I clearly like a drink. But there is a point. A line in the sand if you will where you just dont cross it. X and Y crossed it at the bar. Let me set the scene. The specific town we are at is full of very rich very bland folks. Maybe some would say assholes but whatever. But what these rich bar goers found themselves tangled up in that night was a very bad episode of "Girls Gone Wild". Not their cup of tea for a night at the bar.

Anyhow, X and Y are sitting at the bar getting hammered and the stuff they were engaging in together is a perfect example of why the English language provides for our use the expression "Get a room." People are looking. People are staring. People are not pleased. PEOPLE ARE POINTING! The bartenders response? X and Y get cutt off. Y's response? She flashes her tits at the bar. X and Y were asked to leave. They left.
So my boyfriend and I remained as we were there to sing Karaoke, right? I performed an outstanding version of "She Works Hard for the Money" and "I love Rock and Roll". And my boyfriend "Runaround Sue".
We decide to head out to another bar. As we leave I look 3 blocks down the street and see cop lights. Lots and lots of cop lights. At first I tried to convince myself that someone had gotten pulled over for speeding or something. But something also told me to check it out "just in case" as these cop cars were parked right outside my cottage. I also caughta glimpse of an ambulance...never a good thing. 2 blocks away and I knew this werent no speeding ticket. I approach my house and am greeted by about 50 fucking cops and an EMT crew. So it turns out that on the way home from "Girls Gone Wild" X and Y wiped out on the sidewalk. Badly. X and Y are now sitting on my porch, beligerant incomprehensible and bloody. X is in his boxer shorts with his head cut up. Y has poured chardonay into the plastic cup which the paramedic had supplied for X to drink sterile water. X is cussing the cops out as he wants to carry on drinking. MAyhem! Mayhem had befallen me. Oh and did I mention Gordon thought it was a hoot to take pictures? (Thanks Gord! )
Basically, I saw red. The maroon..then a slight shade of rosey pink. But after an hour or so of the paramedics attempting to convince X to go to the emergency room to no avail...They dispersed. X and Y eventually went to sleep.

An hour passes and I hear sirens again. Across the street. But this time NOT, I repeat, NOT for us. I peer outside and the house across the street is exhuming smoke out the front door. I said hello again to the cops who had just been to our house 60 minutes before and was informed that the neigbhors were drunk and fell asleep with the oven on. Pfft. What kind of people do THAT?

So Gordon heres that old shirt a flappin in the wind.

Saturday, April 09, 2005

Lucky Stones

I am currently in top hangover form. I would like to take a moment to reflect on the sequence of events which led me to this point.
Last night my boyfriend and I decided to go out for a few drinks in the neighborhood. The evening started out at a bar that has mastered the art of making a great expresso martini. It also makes some killer mussels. Sitting next to us was a 50 year old woman named Deanna eating said mussels. Deanna told me she is 4 foot 11. I exchanged a few niceties with her and went back to my martini. Next thing I know Deanna takes out a little pouch and spills the contents of the bag onto the bar. Out came 6 or 7 stones of different sizes and colors, mostly various hues of green. Deanna tells me these are, in fact, lucky stones and asks me to choose one. "Take your time" Deanna says. I chose a flat smooth stone. Deanna put the stone up to the candle light and told me that based on this stone she can see that only one of my ovaries is working. She assured me though I would still be able to have children, 2 children, the first of which will be a girl. Deanna told me that I was Korean in my past life. Deanna instructed me to periodically keep the stone next to a house plant so that the negative energy can be absorbed. Deanna told me she does group readings and gave me her card. I put the stone in my wallet, said goodbye to Deanna and we left the bar.
We went to another bar and met some guy who was wasted. And weird. We left.
We then went to our usual bar which is an Irish pub with an awesome juke box. My boyfriend and I ordered some beers and some food (chicken wings and mozzerela sticks.) 2 guys sat next to us. Guys who looked normal enough..well for Bay Ridge at least. We all talked and 1 guy left.My boyfriend decided he wanted to go home too. I wanted to stay. We had only one set of keys so I walked him home r. You see in Greenpoint residents got the memo that it is not 1953 anymore and just cuz a woman is having a drink in a bar alone..this dooes notmean that she is looking to get laid. This memo obviously got lost in the mail on its way to Bay Ridge. I took my boyfriend home and returned to the bar where that guy was still sitting (the guy who was perfectly aware that the person I just took home was my boyfriend.) "So do you want to go soemwhere a bit more neutral?" he asks. "Say what?" I responded. "Somewhere we both havent been where we can get to know each other" he elaborated. I then politely explained that he got the wrong impression and excused myslef to the end of the bar where a bunch of regulars were sitting whom I know. I informed them that the guy over yonder was creepy. I went outside with oneof the regulars to have a smoke. Mr Creepy followed and proceeded to insult me in a vile fashion. Mr Creepy declared to both of us that he was only hitting on me becasue he believed me to be a "charity case." "What the fuck is wrong with you? You dont say that to a girl" Mr. Regular said. Put it this way, the verbal exchanges which followed could have filled up my office swear jar thats for sure. In the midst of the argument from around the corner came Mr. Regular's friend. "What seems to be the problem here" he says to the asshole. Mr. Regular retold the past 10 minutes. Before I know it this guy is telling the asshole a thing or two. The asshole says "oh yeah Im gonna get my boys down here in 10 minutes. You dont know who youre fucking with." Mr Regular's friend pulls out his wallet and shoves a police badge in his face."You do that asshole. Iwill get my boys down here too." This doesnt phaze The asshole. The asshole claims that he is in the mafia and he had stabbed John Gotti in the throat one time. Eventually the asshole went home.I stayed and drank 5 shots of orange Stolichnaya with the regulars. Its a good thing I had that lucky stone or else who knows what would have happened. Thanks Deanna.

Friday, April 08, 2005

Who threw a toilet in Lottie's front yard?

I would like to introduce everyone to my alter ego named Lottie. Lottie lives in Streetsboro, Ohio. I am by no means proud of this but yes I do own a myspace account and my alias is Lottie.(prfttt, yeah ok 4 mysapace accounts... there is also a Bill and a Bing and I cant believe I am admitting this..well little old me too.) I created Lottie becasue she is my idea of a perfect woman and because tv can get boring after work. Plus I get some pretty funny emails to Lottie's myspace account which are worth a fortune as far as I am concerned. I mean alot of people hate Lottie for some unfathomable reason. Anyhow, Lottie has had some seriously bogous shit happen to her. For starters..Lottie had someone throw an old toilet in her front yard. Lottie is always on a mission to find the culprit of this unforgivable act. Now alot of my Lottie fans think she is shhh! Dont let the cat out of the bag!, whatever you do! Lottie is also always on a mission to get her cable turned back on.Lottie has held a numerous jobs including working as a bartender at Typsy's Tavern and a cashier at an auto parts store. Lottie is currently a home attendant. She has been in jail and damn it..she frikin hates her kids not to mention her ex husband Darrel. Here is an excerpt from her blog:

"So there I was making pop tarts waiting for Hank's late ass to come over and help me with that fuckin toilet when I hear a car pull up the drive way. I started the monring with a bad case of the shits and I werent in no mood for his usual tall tales about "he couldnt come over cuz his fuked up kid put Thumper in the dish washer". Thumper is their mangly old rabbit they found in the CHinese Buffet parking lot. Anyhow I knows that was a lie, that Thumper being dead, cuz I saw Thumper the other day and he was just fine. Its Hank's stupid ass he should put in the dish washer. He aint had a shower in amonth. He stinks so bad I almost called up Maury for one of them shows where people aint taken no bath in a year. But my phone was fuckin turned off at the time so I didnt.I bet that asshole is probley sitting in his boxers sctaching his sorry excuse for balls while that fuckin toilet is still on my fuckin yard. I already had enough fibbin this morning when I see its 10:30 and Cody and Crystal were sitting on thecouch eating cheese curls saying the school bus didnt stop at the house this morning cuz the bus driver said he dont pick up no white trash kids with toilets on their lawn. I smacked the shit outta both of em for that lie but I cant take em to school cuz the fuckin car battery is dead. Fuk it. Theyre both dumb as rocks and that aint nothing no school is gonna fix. But yeah so this big old van pulls up my drive way with about 60 fucking kids in it. This ditzy blond gets outta the van and rings my bell. At first I thoughtit was that bitch Maria from Capital One! But nah. It was Shelly from the Jehovah Witnesses society or whatever theys called. Shes asking me about why is it I tihnk God lets people suffer. I said how the fuck should I know do i look like a priest? I said if its God shit ya wanna talk anout theres the Virgin Mary and baby Jesus sittin on my lawn by the bashed up manger... and she can ask them that stupid ass question. Crazy bitch. I m pretty damn sure she chose my door to come knockin on cuz with that fuckin toilet thereit must look like Im the poorest white bitch in town. She tells me no its me she needs to talk to cuz she already talks to God on her own time and starts explaining about her crazy ass religion. I took one look at her car fulla screaming kids and said..look here if being a Jehovah Witness means I gotta support 60 more kids you can go fuck yourslef. I said these two pieces a shit on the couch over there are enough. I told her if you likes kids so much take em too! Theyre fuckin yours cuz I sure as shit could use some peice and fuckin quiet around here. Shelly left. But before she done I asked her if she needed to buy an extra toilet for all thm kids a hers."

So, without further ado, I give you Lottie.

PS For all you people who arent in the myspace know, go to her blogs and it is very important you start from the beginning. So check out the older archive blogs first. I considered transfering her blog to blogger but..nah.

I bought a swear jar on my lunchbreak

Today, I bought a swear jar on my lunchbreak. My office sure needs one! Thank goodness when I went out today to get my chicken Cup a Soup they sold them in the back of the shop. Now I didnt go out lookin for one but I saw one staring at me at my office's local newsagent/deli/card store. The swear jar is brown, made of clay and it says "Swear Jar" on it so no one can confuse it for a"College Fund" jar which was also for sale at this particular store. They also had "World's Best Mom" mugs and other jars and coffee mugs which said a bunch of stupid on them. (I personally would of bought a mug if they had one that said "World's Best Foot" but there probably isant a large enough market for this phrase.) But ..sigh..we at my wonderful work needed a swear jar. In specific (I will call her employee #423a) desperately needed the swear jar. Now, you see, we are social workers. Being a social worker can defintely have its suck moments and you get pissed. Clients make you MAD! You get pissed and before you know it you swear. And since clients cuss at us its only natural that once that swear ball is rolling and as soon as the cleint leaves you just gotta swear too. Employee #423a swears alot. And loud. So it is for her own good that I bought this jar. Who knows if the boss comes around and she's all "Fing this" or "I am sick of this shit", you know swearin? Then what? So I bought the jar and told her that every time we swear we put in a quarter. Unfortunately, the general consensus was that 25 lousy cents was too high a price and we settled on a dime a curse word. Cheapos but I guess dimes add up though, ya know? Popular swear words at my work are (obviusly!) 1 Fuck 2 Shit 3 Bitch. You occasionally get your mutherfucker. But thats rare. "Ho" is also thrown around alot at work ESPECIALLY by employee #423a and this is moving into grey territory. I mean we are not sure ... is"Ho" actually a swear word? I am sure it is a nickel worthy offense. And motherfucker is (sorry employee #226j) a fat fine of a whole shiny quarter.Since some are not enthusiastic about the swear jar, and most importantly likely to not pay up, we are mandating that everyone signs a swear jar contract. This idea was thought up by my time magician workmate as she had a similiar "jar" for employee #602b. Employee #602b had to pay a quarter for every time he macked on a female coworker. Employee #602b signd a contract in order to enforce this. Employee #602b ended up shelling out in excess of 150 dollars before he transferred to another office in the Bronx. The bottom line? Potty mouthin will be saved for after work hours and for after work hours only from this point forth.

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

A Goddess with Mo Money

Today I woke up to my alarm clock at 7 am which is not usual for me. Usually no matter what, i wake up at 6am every day. Even though I set my alarm I wake up at 6 anyhow. My work friend told me the other day that she never uses an alarm clock. That in fact she doesnt even own an alarm clock! That is quite a talent if you ask me. ~~~~~
When I wake up with my alarm clock, the day usually starts off with me being super crabby. Me cursing. Me hating everyone. Me pissed.
I went to work...pissed. Especially after I thought I broke my cellphone...(Turns out I didnt however)
Two hours into the workday and my boss peeks his head around the cubicle and asks to see me and my time magician friend.
We, I am proud to announce, are getting raises! Do you know how good it feels to type that word? Raises.
I am so fucking happy! I have spent the rest of this day thinking about how I am not, from this point forth, going to be irresponsible with money. Actually, this is a lie. I didnt think about it that much. I thought about it a few times. Mostly I have thought about how this good news calls for a new CD. I am going to buy the best of Donovan.
But..Woh Woh Woh My horses are definetly being held tight! ...I just looked up Donovan's official website for the purpose of seeking out whether or not a best of album exists. But seek and you shall find. Well not a best of album but I sure did find the "gallery" section which boldly commands me to "Search for my Goddess". This is illustrated with what looks to me like a bunch of Skeletor's junkie concubines. It also has an eerie track about looking for my goddess playing in the background. Look Donovan, lets get soemthing straight I rarely if ever do what I am told. And looking for goddesses mine or someone elses is not on the menu for today.
Fuck it. Donovan is crazy weird but I will still buy his best of album. Which, my friends, does exist as I have just located it on Amazon AND it has Season of the Witch on it ...Hmmm. Maybe those junkie ladies on his website were "seasonal witches"? You know similair to how there are what i guess you would call compass witches in The Wizard of Oz, (Wicked Witch of the West, Witch of the East, etc), there could also be a witch for every season. If this is the case..those junkie ladies who are searching for their goddess are definetly winter witches.
Shit look what Donovan has done to me and I havent even BOUGHT the damn CD yet!
Anyhow, check the website out for yourself and see how scrambled your brain gets!

Moving along, my only other prevailing thought today has been of the tried and true self conscious nature. I am very self conscious about my teeth recently! I dont know why but i keep on thinking perfect strangers notice my teeth, you know, at the deli or something and think to she needs to get her teeth cleaned. And then poke their ugly husband and whisper "Carl, Carl, doesnt that girl need to go to the dentist? No not that girl the one with the shirt that doesnt match her skirt" Which is making it very hard for me to buy the usual morning pleasure pair of coffee and a pack of winstons. This is definetly a killer combo married in tooth stained bliss. I will have more money to afford the inevitable 2 dollar tax increase on tobacco! And shit what am I thinking? I AM a fuckin goddess. I got a raise didnt I?

Tuesday, April 05, 2005

North Star for November

North star for November

As long as I can remember
You have argued with August
And whispered to the winter
While I wander on the edge of the night
And stop to hear you closer
And for a small moment in
Dip my toes into tame tepid pools
Its skin wrinkles into seasons we will bury and
I spin its water into webs that smooth into September
You are talking in tomes
Narrating to the sycamore trees
Leaf by leaf
of the books and bibles they will build
Across the lake from me
Your shadow weaves its way over the waves
To the rose bush beside me
as I pray to the humble hues of reds and yellows
It wears like a crown
Like a north star for November

Previously posted elsewhere

Wanna know about my ex neighbors? I am copyin this from apost I made on another website. This nightmare is over.

I have decided that i AM GOING TO DEDICATE my XXXX blogs to summarizing the ongoinging transactions I have with my neighbors.
I will try in the next posts to breifly retell the past 6 months of fun I have had living next door to the most foul people I have ever met.
Ill set the scene for ya right here though.
I live in a building which has 6 aprtemnts all together. All of them are railroad aprtmetns which just barely leave elbow room for 2 people. But THE NEIGHBORS seem to be comfortable living in one aprtment with 6 adults and 2 babies.
The mothers are all 21 and on wlefare.

How do I know this?

Well my brother worked at our local deli for 6 months and every single one of them would come in and swipe their benfits cards.

So going forward. The neighbors seem to be under the assumption that they rent the hallway too. So every night we have a small party right outside our bedroom. The mothers in my building (there are 3 and I think the oldest is 23?) swap notes there. Why in the hallway/? Well its becasue there are some many fucking beds in all of their apartemnts that they cant fit in there.

So anyhow. Last weekend the boyfriend of the month of one the 22 year old "moms" next door was yet again out there with with her fuckin screamin kid. My boyfreind goes out to ask them to go inside their aprtment and the boyfriend was less than cooperative. So I said I pay 1200 bucks a month. This is not a discussion take the kid So outa nowhere this fine example of a lady comes charging out of her aprtment cussing at me and trys to hit me! I slammed the door in her face and she starts kicking my door! The the bitch calls 911 on me! So I have 2 cops at my door wiithn 5 minutes.
I filed a harrasment report this week against her.
This si what working my ass off to pay my rent gets me. Less rights than that lazy bitch who doesnt leave her aprtment all day except on Tuedays to cash her PA check.

Am I stupid?

Am I stupid or am I drunk? Well. Bwahahah. Both. But I do not understand how to search other poeple's blogs. Since I have made myselfone (a blog that is) I want to read and leave comments on other people's but I dont get how to do that. There is the dashboard page. Got it. You can read other people's "recently updated" blogs and then the other category..huh what is it?" Do you feel like browsing?" Well. yes..yes I do. So why cant I search blogs?
Does this facility or whatver exist on this thing? And where in the hell is it if it does?
I keep having to page back to that stupid dashboard place. I did read one funny blog someithing callled notesfromanoffice. That has potential. It was funny so far.
Shit now I am bored trying to figure it out and am left thinking about which of the DA's in Law and Order I would most like to screw. Iguess the answer is none of them. I would screw Dennis Ferrina. The cop. All the DAs are assholes as far as I am concerned.

Since I got home from work

Since I have gotten home from work not much has been accomplished. Do people accomplish things when they get home from work? I dont seem to and this bothers me.It bothers me becasue I think to myself..Here you go again, Sally. Pouring yourself a glass of wine and getting sucked into another episode of Law and Order. Again.
I have washed the dishes. Well. I have washed all the dishes enough so that the dish dryer thing is filled to the brim. Fitting plates and cups into interlocking spaces like a game of Tetris.
There is still the big wooden salad bowl left. The one which was left over from Saturday night. From my friend Naj's bday party . The one whic held the cucomber, tomato and yoghurt salad. The one which is still holds remnants of this Indian salad that now looks more like a concoction the characters in a Dickens novel may have eaten.
The one which I couldnt wash becasue following the birthday extravaganza which ended in some friend drama, I felt too hungover on Sunday to wash. The one which stayed put on Monday becasue I went out and got slammed at Bellvue (which sucks now even though I wasnt a loyal patron of it before anyway) last night and the only thing I could manage after that was making another pot dirty when I cooked up some Kraft Mac at 12:30. The one which I WILL wash tonight come hell or high water. (Is it wrong that I just wondered if hell is supposed to be capitalized?) (Is capitalized with a z or s in this context?) Hmm.
But i feel like when I get home the couch just grabs me. It calls my name from the subway stairs. It says Sally..come hither. And nothing is accomplished.
So since I have been home I have 1. created a blog for myself to write this blither 2. washed dishes 3. taken a bath 4. fed those naughty cats 5. put away some of the groceries 6. thought about putting the rest away 7. thought about cooking the chicken which is still in a bag on the floor 8. smoked about 7 Winstons (Yes other brand will do) 8. oops said 8 already 9. drank 4 glasses of wine 10. received a phone call from me mom 11. gone to the bathroom probably 3 times. Iguess number 11 was not neccesary to report.

Voices Carry

Hush Hush Keep it down now

After approximately 2 and a half years living in Greenpoint, I have moved to Bay Ridge. To sleep. A good one year of Greenpoint was spent devoid of sleep. A haze that I was partly to blame for but mostly the fault of others. The insomnia haze called my old apartment was ripe with the worst neighbors ever.

Nightime has now bestowed upon me a new blessing. The blessing of quiet. I can sometimes hear my naughty cats scampering around at 4 in the morning. But mostly I can my hear my boyfriend dream. Or I can listen to my own.

Although I escaped from a tiny railroad aprtment we now live in The Sleeper Car.

I dont think my old neighbors have ever heard of Til Tuesday.