Friday, December 31, 2004
Tomorrow Dec 31 is NYE and I am working it at the bar, which is usually worth a ton of money. It better be. Scott is working at his bar, too. We’ll get together for “afters” and we’ll make it up to each other … sweet.
Make-up yum-yum is even better than regular sleepy tired yum-yum.
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
I can’t believe the pictures I am seeing from the news and from the web on the tsunami and the mud. It’s like a river of mud has engulfed the southern hemisphere of the world.
There may be 2 million people dead.
I can’t look at this.
If anyone’s still reading this please give to the reputable charity of your choice:
For the Indonesians:
Aceh Sumatra Relief Fund Inc.
164 Florence Street #2
Roslindale, MA. 02131
Indian Red Cross
Old No 132, New No 242,
Avvai Shanmugam Road
Gopalapuram, Chennai - 600 086
Ph: 044- 28350403, 044- 28115058
Sunday, December 26, 2004
I got a necklace, three CD’s (one from Scott, very romantic; one from Jules, one from Trey), a sweater, a bunch of cash from uncle, aunt, daddy, “Maggie” and D gave me some (I bet) lovely wine from D’s brother in France (he says his brother makes it himself – is there no end to this guy?) and cards from all over even one from Mel in Oregon.
(Melissa. Damn that reminds me I need to write her.)
“Maggie” is easily the hottest fucking piano player on the planet. I realize now it’s not just a silly girl friend crush. I want her so-o-o-o bad and I don’t care who reads this. I was never one for strange bi/lesbian tendencies but I look into her eyes and I melt.
We stayed up late last night talking about this and that and giggling till all hours on the couch and I was so freaking turned on and so crazy for her by the time I left Mademoiselle D’s to go home. I could have jumped her right then and there. Damn, damn damn damn.
She’s so easy to talk to and still so smart.
Then it got steamy. This may not be verbatim but: She mentioned some actress she was hot for, someone from like the ‘50’s (for real?!) and then I paused and then I said, “You ever kiss a girl before?”
Long pause, she looks at me kinda sideways and sips her tea… and so demurely … and she goes, “of course. Haven’t you?”
I turned totally red. I couldn’t help it.
I said, “well, not really.”
“But you want to?”
“Well… depends on the girl.”
“Well, no duh, right?”
I giggle and the giggle kind of trails off… and I look at her, and said, “But I think I will, soon.”
“Oh yeah? Anyone I know?”
“Well… I mean, ‘Maggie’, c’mon I think you know I love you.”
“Aww, that’s sweet. But I don’t mess around on D.”
A pout from me. “Not even one little kiss?”
“Now, [Yearning Heart] I think you know where that would lead, don’t you?”
“Oo! Tell me!” my eyes gleaming.
She leans closer to me. “With you, face down, in my lap.”
AAGGHHHHhhhh!!! My mind screams but I turn away. Then I look back at her and say, “Don’t be so sure. I might not like girls THAT much.”
“Liar. Want some more tea?”
Someday, I’ll get you, my pretty, and your delicious hunky husband too, both of you.
Friday, December 24, 2004
Thursday, December 23, 2004
It’s fecking cold.
D & “Maggie” and the boys are at Mademoiselle D’s, I’m really glad to see them.
I stayed over there practically all night and I swear it’s like me and her are sisters.
Sisters like where the little sister wants to totally FUCK big sister and brother-in-law.
My god if she ever read this I would die.
She brought her keyboard and he brought his guitar, the acustic one.
And they played, together, after the boys were all asleep.
I’m still gushing.
Big gushing goo.
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Hello. You’re the obnoxious ass who couldn’t put your cell phone down long enough to tell me what you wanted to eat tonight. How do I know you’re an obnoxious ass? Call it a guess. I bet you drive a Hummer, I bet you spend $100.00 a week just hauling your ponderous bulk to and from work, and now you gotta “circle back” with your “man in Chicago” on this “paradigm shift” while the “iron is hot” and you can’t put your fucking phone down for one minute and 35 seconds, to tell me what (or, indeed, even if) you fucking want to eat.
Because, sir, you’re an ass.
“Are we ready,” I ask as I approach your table.
“Yeah, hang on,” you say, without looking up.
“Oh, you’re fucking kidding me,” you say to your phone, “that was wrapped up at the conference a week ago.”
Was it a week ago? I think. How time flies….
“Yeah, see if you can get Karen or Hal to re-compile,” you say, then you look up at me as if I will confirm this.
I nod, yes, damn good idea. Get Hal on it, pronto.
I start to walk away.
“Yeah,” you say to the phone, and then look up. “Hold on – [to me] hey, hon, just a sec?”
I turn and come back and smile. “Ready to order?”
You order: “KCspecialmedjumrareandanotherMGD,” and then you go back to your phone call, “No, I mean with the fimmer on the uplink…”
“That comes with fries or a baked potato?”
“Hold on – [to me] It does what?”
I give up. “OK, that’ll be right out…”
He doesn’t notice.
I have a great idea for you and your phone. Stay with me here. I want you to take that phone, and I want you to place it under the left rear wheel of your Hummer, and I want you to drive over it - forward, backward, and forward again - until you’ve pulverized it into a mound of tiny cherts, each no bigger than a nickel. Then, I want you to put the pieces into a blender and, adding a little WD40, grind them into a smooth paste. Then I want you to pour the mess onto a fireproof surface - the driveway that leads into your gated community home will do - and I want you to set it alight and burn it and I want you to scrape up the ashes with a putty knife, and I want you to bury them.
Because, you, sir, are an obnoxious asswipe.
And you must never, ever speak on a cell phone again.
“But,” you reply, “I am an asswipe, and this is the source of my power and my glory.”
Yes, it will be hard for you. For a while you can deal with your painful withdrawals by speaking into your cupped hand, which you will hold against the side of your head while you imagine that you are talking to Karen or Hal. For a while.
“But,” you ask, “will I still be an obnoxious asswipe?”
I’m thinking, yeah, you will.
Friday, December 03, 2004
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Guy in Dramaturg Class: Oh, like you’d date a nerd.
the Yearning Heart: [witheringly penetrating look] …but, sir, I AM a nerd:
A young farm hand was walking past the fenced-in front yard of an elderly lady. He had a pitchfork in his left hand, a bag of feed over his right shoulder and was leading a goat by a short rope in his right hand. As he passed the old lady, who was rocking on her porch, he doffed his hat and said, “Howdy, ma‘am.”
“Don’t you ‘howdy’ me!” she replied. “You’re just planning on taking advantage of a woman who’s all alone!”
He stopped, bewildered, and said, “Ma’am, how could I do a thing like that? My hands are full!”
She answered, helpfully, “You could lean the pitchfork against the fence and set the feed next to it. I’ll hold the goat.”