Home is here anyway...

So I had a strange thought last night, how I’ve been electronically recording my thoughts for a LONG ass time now, and how it might be a good idea to save my old blog somewhere in case that website goes out of business and my useless musings from ’00-04 are lost forever. So, in saving them today, I perused and found a few passages that just made me giggle or smile for whatever reason, and actually made me kind of sad. I wish I could still write with the frequency that I used to and with the same sort of whatever falls out of my head is straight-up stop-the-presses interesting. Ahh, for the days of self-important youth! So yeah, here’s just a sampling of my musings submitted for your electronic approval (and amusement)…

Tuesday October 3rd, 2000

Today was so pleasant. Work actually didn't suck. I took the big scary public relations test and it wasn't so big or scary after all. There's this boy in there that sits next to me. He's semi-bomb, but anyway...he's always trying to be involved in my world--laughing at my jokes when I ain't even tell them to him, reading my shit, etc. So today I got done my test super-fast (I always do) but I didn't want to make a ruckus because I sit in the very back, so I decided to wait for Hench. He kept looking at me. So like the twelfth time he looked at me, I just looked back and gave him a half smile as if to say "Hey, what can you do?" and he laughed out loud. It was so odd. Just my luck though, he's probably retarded.

Sunday January 14th, 2001

We never got dressed on Sundays. Sometimes Butch was up before me, sometimes not. Even though I hated it, I'd watch football all day with him and he'd answer all my dumb questions about why the game was stopped and why can't they just do this or that? We'd have oodles of noodles and I would usually get really nervous that Butch refused to time it. Ever since the first time I made them by myself when I was in 3rd grade, I've made them the same exact way. Three minutes exactly and they're done. Butch has never timed them.


Tuesday January, 16th, 2001
He really is Krakow, Stephen. Here I am a crazy amalgam of Angela, Rayanne, and Sharon in the body of that Delia girl that liked Ricki before she knew he was gay.

Hench, Remember Matt Landman? And those shorts he was always wearing? Did I ever tell you he randomly kissed me once in Crazy Charlies? Pff.

This is a fax I got from my mom this morning. At my work. Where other semi-professional types could see it. She makes me crazy sometimes, but every onceinawhile she's silly and makes me laugh.  

Truth in Advertising?

Since we only have one female jock in the building, I was recruited to play "Female Voice #2" in a commercial today. In it, "Female Voice #1" refers to me as "the Fitness Queen". It was hard not to giggle through the whole damn thing.

Today's Comparison of Hampton Roads and Upper Virginia

House in Falls Church, VA

House in Newport News, VA.

Henchio, Oh Henchio...where for art thou?

I know that's a really lame title up there, but the song remains the same...WHERE'S HENCH!?!? She has fallen off the blogosphere. But then the title reminded me of that one party on 42nd street at what later became Templeton/Brendan/Tyler/John's house where Ba-Ba Gee (I think they were still Ba-Ba Gee then) played and Ian and Bax had a really immature exchange of insults ending in "-io", beginning with the always classy "faggio", and when Ian ran out of barbs said, "Back to Faggio". Freshman Friend (blech) was there and was trying to brag to them that he did all these keg stands and they just laughed at him.

Speaking of Freshman Friend, I remember the time he came over to NN8 when I wasn't there and Heather just let him in to take my surge protector (of all random things), then much later that evening Kristin was thoroughly in her cups and said "Look, Freshman Fucker, bring Mer's shit back or I'll kill you!". That kid was such a douche, but he was fun to abuse. Do you even remember his real name?

Back to present day...I know we agreed not to get political, but Howard Stern played a clip this morning that just made me feel sort of...vindicated. It was from Fox News Channel coverage of the innauguration, and the commentator was saying how fantastic everything is, then mentioned the snow in DC and how it looks pretty, even though it may have put a crimp in the festivities. Then she throws the show to Judy Bacharach from Vanity Fair magazine, who says "well, something SHOULD put a crimp in the festivities". At this point the Bushbot Fox News Commentator pretty much loses her mind and actually engages Ms. Bacharach about it, an exchange that went on for at least two minutes. Ms. Bacharach pointed out how tacky the whole show was in wartime, how that money could go to properly arm our soldiers in Iraq who are sitting ducks in their ill-equipped Hum-vees, etc. It was awesome! I absolutely couldn't believe this went to air on Fox News, but was superstoked to hear it. Even though Fox News claims to be fair & balanced (and totally aren't, see the movie Outfoxed), but unwittingly became so for a few minutes.

Nature vs. Me

I slept probably only two hours last night. My sinuses were completely blocked and when I say completely, I MEAN completely. I was five seconds away last night from giving myself a tracheotomy in order to get a few minutes of sleep. In an exercise of futility, I turned the cell phone off only to realize if someone wants to speak to you bad enough. They WILL get through, even if it means calling your roommate and waking her up from a dead sleep. At times, I would look at the T.V. to see what random show was flashing. At about 3 some movie came on called “May” which is probably one of the worst films I’ve ever seen. The girl murders her friends (if you can call them that) in order to stitch together a human doll. From now on the sleep timer is going to be on because if I’m not going to sleep, I’m sure as heck not going to be thinking about human dolls, ick! The Ring was on last week and I was afraid to venture out into the hallway, worried that Samara would be waiting me on the steps. (*am such a chicken)

Today I am gliding about work in a Vicks induced dream-like state. My voice has been reduced to a whisper, so my responses come out inappropriately (and unwanted) seductive and then move into a toad-like croak. Something like: “Art Department..thisss isss Lessslie…sigh…..4 trillion coupons…my plezure…..cough cough, cough, hack, cough.”

So I venture into the ladies room for some tissue. I must say, “Ladies please lay off the air freshener!” Air freshener is a cover-up device when used normally, but in large portions it can be an air stealing weapon of death and destruction. There was literally a gagging cloud of apple cinnamon goodness hovering in one of the stalls last week.

I decided to eat lunch early at my desk and shut my door. Shutting your door apparently does not mean “privacy” as I had erroneously thought. It really means knock more vigorously and then proceed to edge your way in as I mumble that I’m eating.

Yesterday there was an inch of snow on the ground that caused total pandemonium in Norfolk. See here’s the thing, the squall attacked at 3:30. Most of the local job places were letting off first shifters and opening their doors to the night crew. School buses were already on the road and when the snow stuck it melted and then refroze into sheets of ice. I wish I coulda taped “The Points” traffic report. The sky-lady was like, “Norfolk is a total gridlock, there are too many accidents to report. Long story-short, it took me 3 hours to get to my house, which on a normal day is only 15 min away. Looking on the bright side, my car is fine despite a few scary skids - and I am fine, if only for the next 30 minutes or so.

The radio station smells like a dirty sock, everyone has got the flu…

Okay, maybe it doesn’t smell like a dirty sock in here, but everyone does have the flu. Or flu-like symptoms. Am I the only person that is amused by the fact that symptoms of like 96% of conditions are described as “flu-like” symptoms? I’m not even sure why that amuses me so much. I remember once there was a meningitis scare in Wildwood, and the symptoms (besides those flu-like) were headache, tiredness, and neck-pain. That’s everyone I know. So we all had to take some Cipro.

It’s snowing here in AC and I don’t give a crap for crap. There’s just no payoff. I still have to come to work and risk breaking my neck (or another leg) trying to get into my car. It won’t accumulate enough to play in either, so I’ma just be grumpy.

I’ve been meaning to tell all of my electronic friends about Last.fm. It’s this fantastic website where you can make your own online radio station, and it’s not like those other crap-ass websites that claim you can make your own radio station by choosing genres or bands or whatever. This one you can actually pick THE songs you want to hear. Granted, I gave them a few bucks as donation so I could listen just to my songs, but it’s totally worth it. At first I thought this would be a great way for me to get back in the musical saddle the way Napster did for me so many moons ago...but for now I’m being stubborn and mostly just listening to Ben Folds Five, Blind Melon, and Lagwagon songs. Every onceinawhile it’ll throw in a song by a band it thinks I might like based on the songs I do actually like, but it doesn’t bother me. It’s way better at predicting what I might like than my TiVo, which, for some unknown reason thinks all I’d like is Spanish-language programming and cooking shows, neither of which I’ve ever watched on that TiVo. Not that I can allow TiVo recommendations anyway…I need room for my countless crapfest reality TV shows and amusing episodes of Days of Our Lives.

Which brings me to reason #5,678 that I hate George W. Bush…they’re pre-empting my only daily joy, Days of Our Lives, for his sham of a second inauguration; with the whole she-bang being a total waste of money and resources being reason #5,677.

Our Real Friendship??

Alas this weekend, I was reminded that there is a flesh and blood person to go along with my ELECTRONIC friendship. Thank you Carol Anne for a lovely Friday. Also, a special Thank You to ODU for suddenly becoming awesome in the 3 years since we left you. Those lovely new apartments would have been nice when I was there. I wish it could have been more of a weekend. Saturday & Sunday I spent lying about in my bed feeling like a crap ball. *My bad for kissing sick babies.

So I got to thinking, about ODU and CA and first memories of people. Not good memories (everybody has a thousand of those), but trying to find the first one.

My first memory of Carol Ann was through this horrid CD-stealing girl named Michelle. She had “borrowed” my Pulp Fiction CD and I had wandered to CA’s side of Rodgers hall to track her down. CA had also been a victim of this thief, and we both agreed upon her being a horrid troll. I could not understand anything of what CA was saying to me though; seeing as how she is from NJ-a fast speaking state and I am 1/2 North Carolinian and 1/2 Western (NOT West) Virginian—We are very slow speaking peoples. I did understand the words field trip and ended up riding with her and Dionne to Farm Fresh. 7 years later, I can understand the lingo. The rest goes into the halls of toilet paper throwing, horrid linguistics class, Mo-Mo, and 80’s Matt history. Can you hear the Miami Vice theme playing?

I DID get my holiday haircut!

Sooo, I’m cheating on my hairdresser again. Years ago I was a more trusting person with my hair when a mutant beast of a hairdresser misunderstood my “vision” of my head and simply cut without asking. It was sort of like a car accident, before I knew what had happened, I was already in the ambulance bleeding to death.

Now I’ve become selective. I have a schpeal I have to go throw before I can get my hair cut. I explain of the horror of short hair. The tears that it brought and I also come with a hair protection unit. This usually consists of the two tallest friends I have dressed in leather regalia and of which I have specially requested not to smile at hairdresser. We are all business these days. I have age criteria. The hairdresser must be no more than 6 years older than me. Her hair on her head must look like something I would like to have done. She absolutely must smile once or twice whilst I am talking to her.

Enter Barbie. So we used to do ads for a hair salon at my old job that featured the hairdressers pictures. All of these chics have awesome hair in the paper and it’s even more awesome in person. I had wanted Amber, but as a walk-in you can’t really request the hair dresser you desire. I ended up with Barbie. Now in the years since the butchering, I’ve come to trust Barbie. I no longer bring an entourage. I know longer shiver in the chair when the scissors pass. However, she’s not really changing my hair. She’s not helping me evolve and I have this feeling if left untreated, I’ll be living in the 2000’s with a ‘90’s haircut.

By a chance visit, I went to the salon and Barbie was off. Amber stepped in and did a fabulous job. Style-wise it was just a few snips difference, but I came out the next day and got compliments left and right. I went in a few days ago hoping to get Amber, and Barbie was like “I’ll get her.” While in the chair, she says “Someone else has been cutting your hair??!”
“Yeah, while I was in Roanoke.” I lied.

Now, for my next appointment I want Amber, but Barbie is in the same salon. How does this work? Do I fire her? Do I sneak in and out like a cheating client? Help!

President Gump?

I read an article today that once again bandied about the idea that people want Tom Hanks to run for president. In it Michael Moore said, “Who wouldn’t vote for Tom Hanks?” So, I set out on my own little extremely unscientific polling mission here at the radio station, and dagnabbit if that fat bastard wasn’t on to something. (It should be noted that it’s okay for me to refer to Michael Moore as a fat bastard because it takes one to know one, etc.)

Of the 19 people I polled, it was 13 to 6 in favor of my favorite Bosom Buddy. My republican boss was LIVID at that statistic. With each “yes” he heard, he would berate them with “But you don’t know his views on anything! He’s an actor!” So I asked him the difference between Tom Hanks and Arnold Schwartzenegger, and the only thing he could say was that Arnold had established himself as a political figure (by running for and winning the California governorship), the same with Ronald Reagan. So, according to his math, all Tom Hanks has to do to win their vote is run for and win the governors office somewhere.

I would totally vote for Tom Hanks. I’d be his South Jersey Campaign Liaison. I’d illegally register to vote in some red states and go vote there. I’d rent a helicopter to ferry me between said states on Voting Day. I’d do anything just to hear him say, “I am not a smart man, but I know what sovereign means.”

Holiday Hangover

Because Leslie threatened to electronically break-up with me, here I am…

Christmas was pretty bangin…I got a Sirius satellite radio (car kit & boombox), a bigger TV for my bedroom so I can stop squinting, a TiVO for my bedroom, a foot spa, new sheets & duvet cover, a New Yorker Subscription (thanks Hench), and a bunch of other stuff. It’s all really a fog now…a sugar enduced fog. We almost staged a coup this morning when my boss strolled in with some sort of cinnamon twisty cake. We simply cannot take any more baked goods, candies, or, really, treats of any kind.

The Christmas Hater in me was roused, though, and it really made me sort of sad. Here’s the deal. My bro and his girlfriend gave me a piece of paper for Christmas that said “One Digital Camera (coming in the mail)”. I was shocked, amazed, and humbled. What a nice gift! Now, I wasn’t expecting some kind of Sony 7.8 megapixel ridiculousness…so when his girlfriend openly fretted that the camera may not be so great, and since she ordered it off the internet she was worried that it would be a piece of crap for crap. I assured her that whatever it was, I’m sure it’s great. Cut to New Year’s Eve when I stopped over there to say hey. The camera had come in the mail. Yeah, it’s a keychain. I really had no idea how to react. The girlfriend immediately started blathering that she thought it would be good since I’m always carrying such small purses (wha, whaaa??) but then my sister got me such a huge purse for Christmas so now it’s silly (like somehow it’s my sister’s fault they got me a laughable excuse for a camera). My brother made a good show of pointing out it’s plusses; that it’s like a spy-camera, that it can take up to 80 pictures, blah blah blah…I was just left sort of cold.

The good person bound and gagged and locked in a cellar somewhere deep in my soul knows that I should be thankful to get any present, as it is much better than a sharp stick in the eye. But the evil, immature, pouty brat knocking the sides of my skull with a wiffle ball bat feels seriously gypped. I don’t want to get into what I spent on them, or how much more than me they both make, or anything like that. I really hate myself for having yucky feelings about the situation, I guess because I have no recourse. I can’t say anything to my brother and I’m not the type that would “show them” by giving them crappy gifts in the future.

What to do, my electronic friends? Or is this it? What are the crappy gifts you’ve gotten?

Did you forget to get your Holiday Haircut?